As the first female Congolese painter to achieve international recognition, Antoinette Lubaki etched an indelible mark in art history. Born in 1895 in Bukama, a village in the Haut-Lomami province of what was then the Belgian Congo, she transcended both colonial and gender barriers, creating art that would eventually captivate audiences across continents. Her paintings, rich with scenes of daily life, folklore, and the natural landscape, offer a remarkable window into Congolese culture and traditions. Yet despite her work’s international acclaim, her full story remains largely untold.

Antoinette’s artistic journey was inextricably bound to the colonial context that shaped her life and work. While her talent was extraordinary, the Belgian colonial system severely constrained her opportunities. She worked under oppressive conditions, receiving meager weekly wages for a mandated quota of artwork while being denied control over her own creations. Her artistic career, spanning merely five years, embodied the harsh realities of colonial rule. It began with her discovery by one Belgian officer and ended abruptly when another decided to suppress her work—a stark illustration of how colonial power could arbitrarily grant and withdraw artistic freedom.

Early Life

Antoinette Mfimbi’s artistic journey began in Kabinda, a region steeped in the rich artistic traditions of the Luba people. As the daughter of a village chief, she mastered the ancient art of mural painting, working with natural pigments like ochre and charcoal, wielding handmade tools passed down through generations. Her early works pulsated with intimate scenes of village life—childbirth, harvest dances, and ancestral spirits—themes that elders dismissed as mere “women’s tales.”

Her marriage to Albert Lubaki, a renowned ivory carver, sparked a creative partnership that would transform Katanga’s artistic landscape. Their collaborative works merged Albert’s bold, angular animal forms with Antoinette’s flowing human figures, creating a unique visual language that was distinctly their own. Together, they expanded traditional motifs to encompass the encroaching colonial world—automobiles, railways, and rifles appeared alongside ancestral imagery. Their murals, which adorned the walls of village houses, transcended mere decoration. They served as living chronicles of their community, capturing not only timeless celebrations—the dances, rituals, and myths—but also bearing witness to Congo’s rapidly changing reality.

Colonial Patronage

In 1926, Belgian administrator Georges Thiry—a visual artist and self-taught photographer—encountered the Lubakis’ striking murals in Katanga. At the time, European interest in African art centered almost exclusively on sculpture, dismissing paintings as unprofitable works that merely adorned walls and floors. These works, diverging from the era’s dominant realist movement, were often relegated to the realm of “primitive” or merely artisanal creation.

Thiry, however, proved an exception. As an associate of the Surrealists with a keen appreciation for Art Nouveau, his artistic sensibilities were remarkably ahead of his time. He immediately recognized the exceptional talent behind these murals, leading to his fateful meeting with Antoinette and Albert Lubaki, as well as Djilatendo. These artists, though now acknowledged as pioneers of modern Congolese art, remain largely overlooked in art history despite their works being widely exhibited in European salons, galleries, and museums since 1929.

Thiry’s patronage came in the form of paper and watercolors, ostensibly offered as support to preserve and exhibit their work beyond Congo’s borders. Yet this opportunity carried a significant cost: the artists were required to surrender ownership of their creations—a common but troubling practice of the colonial era.

With these new supports provided by Thiry, Antoinette’s artistic expression evolved in remarkable ways. She began fusing traditional motifs with colonial-era themes, skillfully employing indigo paints to explore the tension between tradition and modernity while subtly criticizing colonial disruption. The promotion of their work in European galleries fell to colonial official Gaston-Denys Périer, who not only marketed them as ‘exotic curiosities’ but also systematically undermined Antoinette’s individual artistry. In his writings and presentations, he deliberately merged her identity with her husband’s, seizing upon their shared initial ‘A’ and alleged technical similarities to present their distinct artistic voices as one unified expression.

Artistic Suppression

What began as patronage devolved into systematic exploitation under Périer’s management. The Lubakis found themselves bound to a rigid production schedule, receiving meager weekly payments for a mandated quota of artworks. Under this system, Périer accumulated 163 pieces, building his collection through what amounted to controlled artistic labor. The erasure of Antoinette’s identity reached its peak when her illustrations for “L’éléphant qui marche sur les œufs”—a groundbreaking work as the first Congolese book published in French—were misattributed to Djilatendo.

This institutional erasure of her artistry extended beyond mere misattribution. Colonial and gender prejudices worked in tandem to systematically obscure her individual voice, with many of her works either incorrectly credited to Albert or dismissively categorized as “communal” art. The final blow to her artistic career came in the 1930s when conflicts between Thiry and Périer resulted in the withdrawal of artistic supplies, effectively silencing one of Congo’s pioneering female voices.

Contemporary Rediscovery

For decades, Antoinette’s legacy lay fragmented—her surviving works scattered across private collections and institutions like Belgium’s Royal Library. A gradual rediscovery began in 2012 when the FondationCartier in Paris included her work in “Histoires de Voir,” though initially under her husband Albert’s name. This oversight was corrected in 2015 during the foundation’s landmark exhibition “Beauté Congo,” where Antoinette was finally acknowledged in her own right. Her work’s significance received further recognition at the prestigious Venice Biennale 2022, marking a pivotal moment in the reassessment of early modern African art.

Antoinette’s art represents a form of quiet rebellion. She adapted ancestral techniques to watercolor, proving Congolese traditions could evolve without losing their essence. Her work transcends “primitive” labels, revealing sophisticated commentary on identity and change in colonial Congo.

Yet her story also exposes the hypocrisy of colonial “appreciation.” Europeans admired her art in galleries while denying her autonomy and fair compensation. This duality—celebrated yet exploited—mirrors the experience of many African artists under colonialism.

Conclusion

Antoinette Lubaki’s story embodies both the promise and the perils of artistic expression under colonial rule. From her origins as a chief’s daughter painting murals in Kabinda to her emergence on the European art scene, she navigated complex cultural and political landscapes with remarkable creativity. Her innovative fusion of traditional Congolese motifs with modern themes helped establish a new visual language in African art, yet her journey also reveals the systemic constraints faced by African artists—particularly women—in the colonial era.

The transformation of her work from village murals to watercolor paintings under Thiry’s patronage initially seemed to offer broader recognition. However, the colonial art system, exemplified by Périer’s management, ultimately confined her artistic freedom. Despite exhibitions at prestigious venues, the European public’s limited appreciation for African painting in the 1930s resulted in just two sales. The misattribution of her work, including her unacknowledged illustrations for “L’éléphant qui marche sur les œufs,” reflects the period’s pervasive gender and racial biases.

The recent revival of interest in her work—from major exhibitions at the FondationCartier to the Venice Biennale—demonstrates the ongoing reassessment of colonial-era African art. Though much of her life story remains unrecorded, her legacy as Congo’s first internationally recognized female painter continues to grow in significance. Her experience illuminates not only the creative possibilities but also the profound limitations that shaped artistic production in colonial Africa, while her rediscovery speaks to contemporary efforts to rectify historical erasures and restore dignity to overlooked African artists.