Senayt Samuel Jacob 2007 C-type print Text (not illustrated)

Art that deals with displacement and exile; coming out as a lesbian with strict Muslim beliefs; progress at the cost of tradition – if you’re picturing a show at the ICA or an edgy independent gallery, think again. Tate Britain is the host though this time we’re not talking Turner Prize, but who knows: one of the artists exhibited in Imagine Art After may one day be up for the prestigious prize.

Imagine Art After is an ambitious exhibition that maps out six artists’ experiences of home – often comprised of more than one place – and journeys away from home, calling attention to the realities of a world that persists in bringing about forced geographical displacement.

The show’s curator and creative producer, Breda Beban – a British based artist from the former Yugoslavia, paired artists who have left their homelands to make the UK their home with artists who have remained in the shared country of origin. The artists got to know each other online via Guardian Unlimited and these dialogues were the starting place for the artworks on display. Ranging between the ages of 21 and 47, it is not only geographical distances that the artists traverse via the world wide web between London, Addis Ababa and Tirana, among others, but life experiences.

The photography and narrative texts of Senayt Samuel’s series, Rooted, hint at complex life experiences that have led her from Ethiopia to the States and now to England. For Imagine Art After she returned to Ethiopia, the first time in ten years, to revisit old friends and places, resulting in some unexpected encounters. One photograph, ‘Jacob’, captures an old flame sitting next to his wife. The accompanying text acts as Samuel’s voice behind the camera – recording the thoughts running through her head as she takes the photographs, to which the posed and smiling subjects are oblivious. There is a mixture of happiness and sadness in these texts as Samuel ponders on missed opportunities, as well as the contradictions in her sitters’ hopes and dreams.

One photograph, ‘Frehiwet’, in particular captures this – three generations of women stand together: the grandmother embraces her granddaughter and the mother stands slightly apart. The text recounts the grandmother’s description of how many young people have perished trying to cross the Sudanese and Libyan borders. Happily her daughter is not one of these people, yet with a harsh mix of familial love and disappointment she feels sad for her daughter. Samuel captures a sense of loss in leaving as well as escape from such situations: “I have the best of both worlds because I can choose what cultural influence to follow”.

In contrast to Samuel’s rich fabric of experiences and people, artist Estabrak, who immigrated to Britain from Iraq aged five, focuses on one aspect of her life. Her double screen film – Self Portrait with Aunt and Rebecca – takes the spectator into the conflicting world of the love Estabrak has for her family and for her lover, Rebecca, which goes against her family’s Muslim faith.

One screen contains beautifully tender shots of Rebecca, achieved through unconventional filming that rejects full-face shots in favour of oblique angles of the edge of Rebecca’s chin and smiling lips – Estabrak’s camera-eye traces Rebecca, revealing the trust and tenderness between the women.

Yet, as a spectator it is difficult not to feel that this is too up-close and personal – especially as Rebecca’s initial unease before the lens is plain. The moments when Estabrak teases Rebecca out of herself into laughter and spontaneous conversation manage to redeem the film from being forced.

By respecting her aunt’s wishes to keep her face hidden in line with her Muslim dictates, Estabrak films her from behind through a fixed camera shot – setting up a complete contrast to the animated close-up portrait of Rebecca. This film records Estabrak’s attempt to reconcile her aunt with the fact that she is a lesbian. The aunt’s rigid position and back to Estabrak’s camera speaks volumes and I wonder if this piece would have been more affecting without the tearful dialogue that goes round in frustrating circles. The aunt rarely comes across as a person, more as a representative of the forces against Estabrak, but, as the artist illustrates, this is due to cultural dictate as much as personal choice. Estabrak’s boldness is apparent in these intimate, yet very contrasting filmic portraits. A reminder of Tracey Emin’s self-absorbed daring, Estabrak is one to watch.

Denis Hyka and Violana Murataj’s collaborative film, Finding Grandma’s Garden, also takes on a two screen format. Murataj, based in Tirana, takes her handheld camera on a journey through the back streets of Tirana to Hyka’s Grandmother’s house. On the facing screen is a close-up on Hyka’s face tracking his response to Murataj’s film, which takes him on a journey that he has not undertaken since leaving Albania ten years ago. The unravelling and fragmented journey mirrors the archaeology of Hyka’s memory whose quietly emotional response conveys a deep sadness of being far from home. This film effectively grapples with the complex idea that home is not a fixed place, but is located in the movement and memory of those who come and go.

Brightening up the Tate’s grandeur are Addisalem Bizuwork’s oil paintings that tightly pack text and image to capture scenes of daily life in Ethiopia. Drawing on graffiti and billboards, the text loudly proclaims the title of each piece, such as ‘To Live’ and ‘To Dominate.’ The cartoon-like figures are dwarfed by the text and their soulful eyes carry a sense of endurance that is oddly heightened by the bright pinks and yellows of her palette. Bizuwork has achieved a surprising pathos in her paintings, which stays in mind.

It is the artists who have stayed behind that capture the terrain of their homelands. Bizuwork looks to the city, whereas ‘Muyiwa Osifuye looks to the cultural heritage of Nigeria and Benin. His pairs of photos record the kings of the Yoruba people, once active rulers and now ceremonial figureheads, alongside images of the land their ancestors ruled. The photos capture a cultural heritage caught between tradition and modernity. One king sits in embroidered regal dress cutting an incongruent figure next to his TV and DVD player. Osifuye lays no claim to criticise either tradition or modernity – instead he captures a sense of the inevitability of change, including the ancient landscapes that are interwoven with roads and pylons.

Imagine Art After is evidence that Tate Britain is aware of the inevitability of change and the necessity of recording it: as much as for posterity’s sake as to give a voice to the artists that, as Beban puts it, “live at the hard edge of political change.” On the scale of things Imagine Art After takes up a few small corners of Tate Britain, but track them down and the artworks positively bring the gallery to life and there is no ambiguity in that.

Tip: pick up a map of Tate Britain when you enter the gallery as Imagine Art After is exhibited in three different locations: the Lightbox on level 1 and two galleries on level 2.

More info: http://arts.guardian.co.uk/imagineartafter