Tag: activism

  • [CROP] // An Exploration of Cross Continental Creative Resistance

    [CROP] // An Exploration of Cross Continental Creative Resistance

    Scattered. Pin-points positioned. X-marks-the-spot on the site of intervention. Latitudinal lines of social disparity. Captured and activated between continental shifts in a spaciotemporal moment of defiance.     

    [CROP] is an acronym for Creative Resistance & Open Processes. Established with an ideology centred around inclusivity and accessibility, the collective aims to make art free. The participating agents come from “diverse and multi-disciplinary backgrounds, we use street art to question societal issues, while paying homage to some of society’s most marginalized and often unseen individuals.” [CROP] operates at the powerful intersection between art and activism. CHUZKOS exists as a parallel collective and South American counterpart. Founded by Idelette Aucamp and Boris Mercado the collectives have been able to explore continental conversations between Columbia, Ecuador, South Africa, New Zealand as well as an upcoming activation in Peru. Through these interventions art is utilized as a vehicle for positive change in opposition to issues plaguing society.

    The inaugural [CROP] project launched in Johannesburg last year. Sites of activation were peppered throughout the city and included Melville, Braamfontein, Maboneng, Parkhurst, Parkwood, Jeppestown and other parts of the CBD. “We initiated the project by hosting two collaborative workshops, inviting local photographers and creatives to be part of a core team that would co-create a concept for a public intervention on the streets of JHB, South Africa. During these creative labs, each member presented their portfolios, shared ideas and discussed issues related to the power of photography, design and collective efforts.” After selecting, editing and printing the images they were wheat-pasted at selected points across the cityscape.

    “Creative expression is a powerful tool of resistance that cultivates a sense of unity, pride and empowerment. By connecting like-minded artists, creatives, and organisations for the artworks, we also encourage those involved to continue conversations and relationship-building in their communities, and to independently explore ongoing project potential.”

    The latest iteration of [CROP]’s South African projects was Sililizwe Lase Khayamandi (We are the voices of Kayamandi) in July. This manifestation integrated a poetic element and was focused on the importance of collaboration within communities. It blended together poetry, photography, design, and urban art co-created by CHUZKOS and INZYNC Poetry and took the form of a poetry workshop & photo zine. The township adjacent to Stellenbosch translates to ‘sweet home’ in the Xhosa language. The open call invited photographers to submit images that depicted “social issues, promoted the critical visual exploration of the social environment, and captured our united resistance by focusing on local stories, landscapes, faces and emotions.”

    The final installations included poems from local community members – creating conversation between image and text. “South Africa’s past has been devastating and profound, with many inequalities created and maintained by apartheid, still evident today… Past neglect, lack of investment, poor infrastructure, overpopulation, violence, poverty and isolation from urban centres are all challenges people living in townships face today. Art however, is a powerful tool of resistance, one that inspires hope, encourages unity and empowers people to fight for change.”

    In Cali, Colombia during December 2016 CHUZKOS collaborated with Colectivo Telefono Roto (Cali) & Casa Fractal to create Cápsulas de Realidad (Reality Capsules). “The residency aimed to unearth realities of the housing crisis, we wanted to raise awareness about the social and environmental implications related to lack of housing, poor infrastructure, pollution in rural areas, public spaces being occupied by the homeless, relocation, and the fragmentation of society.” Images of these social realities were placed in middle class, trendy suburbs as a way to disrupt bourgeoisie denial. “The project was an act of independent cultural activism, highlighting the link between visual anthropology and urban intervention… We also interviewed Rafael Vergara Navarro, a well-known environmentalist and activist form Cartagena, who shared his opinion on the social and environmental impact the housing problem has on societies.”

    The upcoming [CROP] Lima Intervention will take place on the 22nd of September in Peru. This iteration will celebrate local rural culture in Pamplona Alta on the periphery of the city – a community forgotten and ignored. “The core team is made up of 12 creatives, including photographers, designers, muralists, graffiti artists, collage artists, and musicians. There are two workshops being hosted where artists will collaborate using photography, graffiti, collage and embroidery on photos to create a single large piece of artwork to be used in an urban intervention. Throughout the process our musicians set the tone by playing music and inviting audiences to participate.” At the heart of all [CROP] projects is the desire to create activations that transform and engage spaces.

     

    Supporters and connected organisations: Street capture, Pleekō,

    Core [CROP] Kayamandi team: Adrian van Wyk (InZync), Boris Mercado(CROP & CHUZKOS), Cale Waddacor (Dead Town), Gulshan Khan (CROP: Photographer), Idelette Aucamp (CROP & CHUZKOS), Lily Branon (Legacy Centre), Pieter Odendaal (InZync), Ryan Jarrett (CROP: Video), Salym Fayad (CROP: Photographer)

    Photographers: Barry Christianson (@thesestreetsza), Matteo Placucci (@matteo_placucci), Kgomotso Kgopa (@seedaforika), Thina Olona Zibi (@thinazibi)

    [CROP] Kayamandi Poets: Nthateng Machaea, Mxolisi Arthur Mbeleko, Sam Maricoh, Vusumzi Mokoena, Anele Sihlali

  • Mpumelelo Buthelezi documents Dryhook recyclers and explores the politics of labour

    Mpumelelo Buthelezi documents Dryhook recyclers and explores the politics of labour

    Cities are complex and incomplete, they have the potential to be key organising units of our time where people, jobs and ideologies are brought together— vessels through which hopes and dreams can be realised; and yet most of the time they fail us. Our cities remain exploitative, exclusionary, coercive and classist, with little regard for those struggling to make ends meet.

    The United Nations (UN) projects up to 68% of the world population will live in cities by 2050 (currently; 55%), with rates increasing fastest in low and middle-income countries. Every wave of urbanisation brings to the fore questions around quality of life and livability with work as a critical component of these questions.

    Our notions of ‘work in the city’ are very deficient; what counts as work, what is ‘important’ work and who is dignified through that work?

    In an ongoing project, Mpumelelo Buthelezi documents waste pickers and recyclers, particularly from the Dryhook area near Devland, Soweto. Through his work he is giving visibility to one of the most important ways of creating work in the city.

    Buthelezi is a Soweto-born photographer with a background in engineering. He started this project after engaging with some recyclers who would come to collect waste around his neighbourhood. One conversation led to another, resulting in a visit to a few waste collection sites and a deeper understanding to the workers journeys and stories.

    “I’m hoping to document the waste pickers’ daily journey and communicate their stories around how they make a living through this work” explains Buthelezi.

    Waste pickers collect recyclable material around the city (scrap metal, plastic bottles, paper, cardboard etc.). They sort and organize the collected material into their various groups for the process and resell what they have collected to recycling companies. Typically, they receive R3.20/kg for plastic containers and R2/kg for cardboard boxes, making anywhere between R40 – R60 a day. Through their recycling methods these individuals are earning a living while also contributing towards environmental sustainability.

    Individuals, organisations and governments the world over are currently considering and conversing about ‘the future of work’. Most of these conversations place emphasis on automation and artificial intelligence as solutions —with the promise of more time for leisure and “higher order thinking”.

    Very few of these conversations are centred around economic threats towards those who contribute and create a livelihood through the informal sector. The politics of labour and leisure are inextricably linked to the current capitalist system that produces and perpetuates poverty. The same system used to oppress and exclude millions of citizens from participating in the fruits of a productive nation.

    The lifelong processes of allyship and activism are incredibly powerful in fighting for and contributing towards sustainable change. Buthelezi’s work is at an important intersection between documentation, storytelling, allyship and activism.

    When asked what he hopes to achieve with the project he replies: “I’m using the work to educate society around the important function that waste pickers play in society, most of whom are using this work as a way to uplift themselves and feed their families.”

  • Examining Byron Fredericks’ dynamic and relevant paintings

    Examining Byron Fredericks’ dynamic and relevant paintings

    Earlier this year Byron Fredericks presented his second solo exhibition; ‘Dala what you must’, at 666 Broadway in Brooklyn, New York. Dala is a relatively new South African slang word meaning “to do” or “do”— more appropriately applied as “you do you”.

    Based on the title, the show takes on two meanings; the call for one to take action deriving from a decision, mood or attitude and simultaneously references the idea of directness, as in “don’t beat around the bush”.

    Byron Fredericks is a Cape Town-born visual artist who earned his BFA from The Pratt Institute in New York, where he is currently based. His practice sees him using colour and mark-making to investigate ideas around identity and socio-political issues. Drawing on his own experiences as a “coloured” man growing up in South Africa he interweaves the Cape Coloured dialect into his work.

    Fredericks’ work pushes past the traditional borders of painting — actively ripping apart the partition between painting and drawing while inserting text to drive the point home. The works take on the character of hushed activism; activism that is subdued and requires engagement and questioning from the viewer.

    The surface of Fredericks’ work does not instantaneously reflect the complexity that lies beneath it. His work moves away from the literal, figurative style as a representation of the political. Flat planes of colour, very simple text and their inter-relationships are favoured over expressive and formalist approaches. He reveals his thoughts by engaging with materials and exploring their properties, and yet remains unbound by these materials. For an international audience, his work is an intriguing gateway through which to engage with political and socio-political narratives within a South African context. Titles such as ‘Gesuip‘, ‘Gympie‘, ‘Jika Zuma‘ and ‘Aikona, Buti‘ can be more effortlessly understood by a South African audience.

    Fredericks covers large areas of the canvas with paint and sometimes uses none at all; as with Tall Rich White Dudes (2017) and Die Voice (2018). His paintings are dynamic and versatile, with a wide range of textures and densities. Densities in this sense refer to his layering technique that establishes both a foreground and background to his work. He attributes this to his “loose painting and aggressive mark-making technique composed with texture in mind”. Fredericks is carving out a new visual language for himself. “It’s funny you say that because it’s been my way of proactively figuring out my visual language, which will be even more refined in this new series I’m working on,” he adds.

    Through his work, Fredericks is leaving marks and moments of himself everywhere. This positions his own story relative to colour. The surface is buttery and smooth and blends onto the canvas — pinks, blues, blacks and whites are embraced equally. His work succeeds in achieving aesthetic value while arousing our curiosities and challenging our perceptions. What seems fundamentally uncomplicated at first glance, becomes extremely multifaceted.

  • Gowun Lee // exploring social issues with a conceptual lens

    Gowun Lee // exploring social issues with a conceptual lens

    Describing herself as a visual artist who uses photography as her chosen medium, Gowun Lee explores social issues in a conceptual manner. She received her BFA in Photography from the School of Visual Arts, and her work has been included in exhibitions around the world, the most recent being the 2018 Aperture Summer Open titled The Way We Live Now in New York.

    Lee has moved from New York to South Korea for her ongoing project which brings light to the fact that the majority of LGBTQ people in South Korea have to hide their true identities, despite the increase in LGBTQ activism and awareness. This is represented visually in her series I’m Here With You, where the people photographed never face the camera directly. Instead their bodies are turned and their faces are hidden. “The LGBTQ individuals photographed – all facing away from the camera – remind us of how Korean society continues to neglect and refuse to accept them. “By creating these images, my intent is to both implicate the viewer in the nation’s larger refusal to acknowledge the identity of LGBTQ individuals and, more importantly, to spur us all to take action and change this attitude once and for all,” Lee says in an interview with the UK’s Daily Mail. This series is a powerful portrayal of lived experiences, and the way in which this affects people’s lives, with those photographed often alone within the frame. A creepy stillness becomes apparent with Lee’s compositional choices.

    To check out more of work visit Lee’s website.

  • anticlockwise Ingwembe – on the hunt for languages that question space and text

    anticlockwise Ingwembe – on the hunt for languages that question space and text

    Tsholofelo Seleke, Siyanda Marrengane and Refiloe Namise are the young, female artists who make up the collective anticlockwise INGWEMBE. The collective has an interest in “cultural objects”, including the wooden spoon (ingwembe). This is an object that is central to their creative and artistic practice, made clear from its presence in their collective name. When asked to unpack their name, the collective presented me with an explanation that resembles the format of a dictionary definition that combined the various associations attributed to the wooden spoon:

    *ingwembe/lesokwane: a woman’s tool, a tool that instills discipline, a signifier of power- of an ‘invisible’ power, a symbol of inferiority, of domestication, mixing and re-mixing.

    There is an immediate link between the word anticlockwise and ingwembe. Anticlockwise brings to mind the idea of movement, flow and direction. Combined with ingwembe, one is able to imagine the rhythmic movement made when using a wooden spoon for cooking. The prefix ‘anti’ makes those who encounter their work aware of the fact that they are working against the flow and rhythm of institutions, texts and spaces that deny the presence of people of colour, particularly women of colour. Their work is what they refer to as “coll[activism]”; a recognition of the importance of collaborative creation and activism. This is also a concise way to present the operation of their art practice.

    “We are questioning the use of space- how a space is used, can be used, how it was previously used, imagined, how far it can be occupied, in various ways. This interest is often sparked by contexts, and how we read objects in different spaces. We explore these interrogations through sound, visual imagery, objects, texts and performance (performance-based installations/installation-based performance). Anything that can be experienced (seen, read, smelt, heard, felt, touched) can be a text. We enjoy the possibilities of being more…and see the importance of learning, teaching, sharing knowledges in ways that can be read differently.”

    In this exploration they are also on the hunt for a language that exists outside of the art world, one which is more “public”. This language can be seen, heard, felt, smelt and spoken, and is more fluid. When asked how they would recognise this language, anticlockwise expressed that “You will know it when you see it” stating that “this language is continuously being recreated.”

    Their first event Noma Yini: Round 1 was the closing of an event that was held at NGO (Nothing Gets Organised) in March 2016. The project was a collaboration with Eastside Projects (based in Birmingham) and facilitated by Gabi Ngcobo. It was based on the idea of a circuit, as well as the exchange and sourcing of materials around Nugget Square in Jeppestown. Participation took the form of a workshop and the making of portable chairs.

    Having tasted the stress and excitement of creating an event, anticlockwise took on another – OK’salayo. It began as the celebration of a friend’s recent job, and then transformed into a full on party, with a ‘silent’ landlord offering them a space at a former panel beaters. There is a OK’salayo 2.0 in the making.

    At the moment the collective is working on the idea of an experimental school called ama-fly-by-nights. “It is everywhere, yet nowhere, and it exists within us”. This school focuses on forms of knowledge production that are open and allows for narratives to be expressed in various languages (oral, visual, sonic, etc.)

    Follow anticlockwise INGWEMBE on Instagram to keep up with their work.

  • Delphine Diallo’s ‘Women of New York’ – empowering women

    Delphine Diallo’s ‘Women of New York’ – empowering women

    Delphine Diallo, currently based in Brooklyn, New York, is a French Senegalese photographer and visual artist. Completing her studies at the Académie Charpentier School of Visual Art in Paris she worked in the music industry as a graphic designer, special effect motion artist and video editor before moving to New York to explore her own practice.

    Combining her artistry with activism Delphine momentums various possibilities for the empowerment of women, cultural minorities and youth forward. The mediums in which she practices include both analogue and digital photography, illustration and collage, virtual reality and 3D printing.

    Her arresting imagery acts to challenge societal norms and champion women with mythological, anthropological, sexuality, identity and race explorations.

    Delphine’s project Women of New York makes use of classic portraiture to create visibility. For this project, she photographed women and girls of New York which was compiled into a book format and featured 111 females (a symbol of oneness).

    For this project, the artist used the method of blind casting via Instagram posts and having her assistant handle the model calls in order to rule out discrimination and limiting women and girls who want to participate from forming a part of the project.

    “I feel like if I select women, then I’m discriminating against other women who want to participate. I’m not going to do that. So, my assistant handles the model calls I post on Instagram, and 30 women might reply, and because they’ve expressed interest, they are part of this project.

    I want to give each woman who has felt defeated, unprotected, ignored or degraded, a new light to shine on her brilliance and beauty. And, for the women who have always felt empowered, despite society dismissing her in the workplace, educational institutions, media outlets, and even in her home, I want Women of New York to illuminate her strength in ways she may never have imagined.” she expressed in an interview with 99u.

    Delphine’s images are strong and show these women and girls in a confident, powerful light. Her project has created visibility and a face that speaks to what it means to be a female in New York today. Her work holds power in that it celebrates beauty and is a clear indication that womanhood cannot be seen as an embodiment of one way of being.

  • Celebration as a form of political engagement – the significance of AFROPUNK at Constitution Hill

    It is quite fitting that basic ideas that make up South Africa’s constitution are also the slogans that have become so closely tied to the core of the AFROPUNK festival and the online platform – “No Sexism, No Racism, No Ableism, No Ageism, No Homophobia, No Fatphobia, No Transphobia and No Hatefulness”. Considering that the AFROPUNK organizers are heavily invested in spaces with historical significance, it makes sense that Constitution Hill would be the first location in South Africa where the festival would be held.

    Referring to this slogan Manushka Magloire, the director of community affairs at AFROPUNK, expressed that, “This is our NO HATE doctrine or rules of conduct if you will, when entering a space in which we honor and exalt the beauty in and of one another. NO HATE is at the epicenter of the foundational core of what we look to embody as an organization and platform. AFROPUNK is the microphone of thought & a lens of perspective – if our mission is to celebrate individuality, freedom of expression in every form imaginable and unleash creativity.”

    This extends the significance of the festival beyond being a moment to breathe for alternative black culture. It becomes another wing with additional rooms in the house of freedom and justice that people of colour in South Africa, and around the world, continue to build through their engagement with multiple politics and activism.

    When asked about the importance of making politics and activism a part of how AFROPUNK operates, Manushka explained that, “By virtue of being born black or brown in this world is and of itself a political act. By virtue of accident of birth, we are born activists.”

    As explained by AFROPUNK co-founder Matthew Morgan in an earlier interview, the festival is about celebrating black excellence. It could be argued that this celebration is a form of political engagement or activism in and of itself. In the same way that sharing the images and stories of South African struggle heroes and heroines in the different spaces at Constitution Hill allows for remembrance and a celebration of black historical figures.

    Reflecting on the decision for AFROPUNK to be held at Constitution Hill Manushka explained that, “AFROPUNK Joburg will take place at Constitution Hill – a prolific location with a storied history. It’s important to highlight this unique celebration of liberated freedom of expression and individuality that uplifts the collective experience of black & brown communities across the globe will be on the grounds of a former prison that housed Mandela, Ghandi and Winnie amongst others who gave their lives to fight for equality. The SA Constitution was born here – arguably the most progressive of its kind- with a preamble of WE THE PEOPLE. Words shared by the US Constitution as well. In these current times, these values & ideologies serve as the rallying cry to unify the 99% the world over in our collective fight for justice.”

     

  • FAKA – Speaking With the Gods

    Faka, the dynamic duo of Desire Marea and Fela Gucci, are proudly representing black and queer creativity with potent sound and vision. Along with their glam imagery and performance pieces, they make music which combines the brute force of Gqom with the optimistic ghost of bubblegum township pop, kwaito and gospel. Their artistic manifesto is best epitomized by the song `Izitibane zaziwe ukhuti zibuya ebukhosini’ (Let it be known, that queerness is a thing of the Gods) which they released with the accompanying statement: ‘ this is an ode to all the powerful dolls who risk their lives every day by being visible in an unsafe world. This is a celebration of those who have fearlessly embraced themselves. Because when your identity is the cause of your suffering in the world, you begin to feel the very source of your greatness in the world’.

    This hopeful message underlies the mysterious and alluring debut EP Bottoms Revenge. Adapted from a live piece of the same name, this three track Ep is thirty minutes of outrageously psychedelic `Ancestral Gqom Gospel.’ The opening ‘ Isifundo Sokuqala’ starts with a false sense of calm, until it introduces hypnotic static. The 18 minute title track is ambient odyssey through inner and outer space. Such a terse description undersells how unique their music is, but that’s because it hard to describe something so singular. If I had to pin it down, I’d describe it as sounding like releases from an alternate timeline where Brenda Fassie teamed up with post-punk synthesizer abusers Cabret Voltaire to ritually summon a benevolent matriarchal elder god.

    Appropriately, the EP is released on NON records, a collective which has been steadily building an impressive catalogue of provocative music. In such dark  times, where a racist maniac has just been elected to the most powerful political position of Earth, this expression of individualism and refusal of labels feels like a welcome act of aesthetic resistance.

  • Fear of The Youth Ep4 – high school students weigh in on Fees Must Fall

    Fear of The Youth is a new web series about the interests and concerns of Johannesburg youth. The series is produced by filmmaking crew, Germ Heals. In episode 4 Germ Heals speak to high school students about the Fees Must Fall movement, their concerns regarding tertiary education and their thoughts on governments interventions in the space.

  • Umuzi- redefining creative economies through education that is accessible and free!

    South Africa is currently in a critical place of rising consciousness, with far-reaching and irrevocable implications for the dismantling of ongoing oppressions, systemically enforced, both subtly and overtly, in our so-called ‘post-apartheid’ state. Through the explosion of movements such as #FeesMustFall, we have been able to bear witness to the beginning of a new, self-determined redefinition of this country. Umuzi directly speaks to these politics as a radical example of an alternative system of education that is accessible and free, and so I have decided, somewhat unconventionally, to reproduce the majority of our discussion below (there are some minor copy edits, collaboratively approved, pre-publication). Umuzi is about creating the next generation of creative professionals in order to challenge the South African narrative and their work is a tangible, practical manifestation of non-oppressive alternatives. As such, the conversation below can perhaps provide some insight into emancipatory operational structures for institutions in the future South Africa, currently in the process of being created. The conversation is also reproduced here in this format, as self-authorship is essential to the way that Umuzi functions. I caught up with Creative Director, Nthabiseng ‘Thubz’ Lethoko (referred to below as Thubz); Cohort 4 Recruit, Dimpho Saal (referred to below as Dimpho); and previous Cohort or alumni, Kgomotso ‘Neto’ Tleane (referred to below as Kgomotso).

    Before we jump into the conversation, you should know that Umuzi are currently recruiting the next Cohort of Umuzi Recruits, set to take flight in mid-October. If you want to be part of this movement and you believe that you have what it takes, show them what you’ve got by applying at www.umuzi.org or hit them up on their Facebook page.

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    GW: So Umuzi started in 2009 with single-use film cameras and was directed at high-school students, how have you evolved from the Umuzi Photo Club of the past into the Umuzi of today?

    Thubz: I’m glad that you started at the very beginning, because it touches on why we exist in the first place. Umuzi started through the realisation that there is a massive problem in terms of the black creative community; access is restricted and kids can’t actually get to this thing, because there is just too much money in between. We exist to bridge this gap, where access to privatised institutions is limited. The main reason that we do what we do, is because there is no transformation happening within the privatised sectors of the creative community or within creative schools… there is very little that is feeding the industry in terms of black creative talent and that causes an even bigger problem because the people who are going into the institutions do not understand the stories that they are trying to communicate to the mass market; they don’t live or understand those stories, which creates a very warped perception and outcome. That is the situation we are trying to change; we are trying to infiltrate that so that it becomes real and relatable or understandable.

    Dimpho: I want to add to what Thubz is saying; money is a big problem but that also connects to other factors. As high school students you are fed certain information, or you receive certain perspectives from your parents; pressures to follow a mainstream career path, even if that isn’t necessarily linked to what you want to do. Because money is such an important aspect, you aren’t provided with the options that private institutions offer- say to actually become a visual artist- so then you are forced into doing other things. Umuzi really addresses some of these complications.

    GW: A lot of this really speaks to the reality of a non-reformed education sector… even in terms of art classes often being exclusively provided within privatised schools; in public schools it’s sometimes not even an option.

    All: Yes!

    GW: This actually leads into the next question which is directly about the politics of education in this country- so we have already been speaking about bridging critical gaps but I guess there are also many other aspects; for example, in terms of creating non-hostile learning environments. Obviously we’ve recently had the #SansSouci protests. Is there anything else that you would like to elaborate on in terms of how Umuzi engages these politics?

    Thubz: The way that we educate and upskill our Recruits works off of 3 Pillars: Education, Community and Content. With regards to the Education Pillar, our aim is to provide skills in order for our Recruits to secure employment. They get a certificate at the end of the process, but we are really focussed, at the end of the day, on ensuring our Recruits are employable. In this way we are quite different from traditional education systems. This is supported by all of our Managers; we all come from the creative industry where we’ve had to learn to clearly understand those environments. It’s not like we’re coming from text books; we’re coming from real life and that’s what the job experience angle means. The work that is created here, or the challenges that we give, are based on realities and we expect real results. Our Recruits learn things that they would actually be expected to do when entering the creative economy- so they enter being ready. The second Pillar is Community. The first aspect of that is the community of Umuzi itself; we are constantly communicating with our students in one way or another, from our very first Cohorts until now. We provide an ongoing system of support for our students and they can always come back…  Kgomotso, maybe you want to talk about that?

    Kgomotso: Just to pick up on what we were saying with regards to the traditional way of learning; when I first came here it was very different to how it is now. Back then, you would come in and you would study and write tests. Now, you accumulate briefs and then engage in real life experiences, often working around your own community. As Thubz was saying, if you want to move into the industry, you enter with a lot of real experience. But not everyone wants to work in predefined structures or positions, so Umuzi also engages community in the sense of providing a space for you to do your own thing. Even after you have graduated, you can still come in and work from here and build your own thing. It’s also a great space for collaboration because there are so many creatives here; you can literally turn around and find a great writer or a graphic designer and involve them in your project. The energy here is amazing because you are surrounded by people who are continuously producing and that gives you the drive to create new content.

    Thubz: That actually made me think about our bigger hope and dream. Right now we are Umuzi and we are producing these awesome, young, creative people and it seems like we have the social capital because we are the hook up between them and the industry. But if you think about it like an infinite hourglass, the sand comes from the top and goes to the bottom, but over time, the sand starts to accumulate from the bottom and rise to the top. That’s kind of the situation with Kgomotso; he’s graduated but he’s coming back here and using the people within our space for his own projects. So our hope it that when the first or second Cohorts are the group heads, or senior art directors, or executive creative directors, or managing directors… once they have the social capital, the whole thing will flip.

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    GW: That’s quite unique; I don’t really know other institutions that do that… it’s like they take your money and kick you out the door.

    Thubz: Ya… so I also feel like we maybe shouldn’t be put on too much of a pedestal right now, because it’s not actually about us, it’s about that moment when everything flips over.

    Kgomotso: The community part of it is crazy because if you go to a creative event, it’s hard not to spot Umuzi people, from all of the groups. In the next two or three years, it’s going to be massive… it’s going to be something else!

    Thubz: We’re hoping for that change to happen really soon.

    Dimpho: A few months ago we attended the One Club Creative Bootcamp. When I got there, I had conversations with students from other institutions and many were saying that they only do practical work in their fourth year, which is really weird! We do that every single week and we present every Friday, so our skills really are practically harnessed. We don’t have set textbooks, so that’s not the way that we learn; our learning material is, for example, often visual or our Managers compile what they think we need at that point in time and that’s really special. Through these non-alienating, practical processes, we are equipped with what we need- at the end of the day, people want to see content.

    GW: It’s pretty political; this idea of organic knowledge rather than that being this stale construct based on restricted access and locked away in the cabinets of ivory towers.

    Thubz: I love what Dimpho was saying because that speaks to the third Pillar, which is Content. That basically means that when you leave, are you able to work? Do you understand what is happening and are you employable in that moment? The way that we measure ourselves is from industry feedback; ‘your people are awesome, I want to work with them, how can we employ them?’ So we measure ourselves from that perspective, rather than from self-created hype or hollow self-promotion.

    GW: I was reading a few of the available articles about your work and they mentioned how it started through photography and that something important about that was how it transcended language barriers. Maybe it’s a bit of an off-centre question but because we’ve been speaking in the ways that we are, I want to ask about the politics of language within the space?

    Kgomotso: I think from my experience, the language of Umuzi… I can’t say it’s like this specific language or that specific language, it’s like Kasi slang or like how I would speak to some of my friends. If I had to say that Umuzi was a person, I would say that it was someone who grew up in Joburg, in the hood… but in the 90s though

    [All laugh]

    Dimpho: While we may learn in English, we are often aiming to get into the industry in order to amend certain problems. So Umuzi is not just developing creatives; it’s developing professional creatives. For now, we need to get into that space and be able to professionally communicate with everyone, while still bringing in that real person that Kgomotso just mentioned. In this way, we can start the work of telling our own original and authentic stories.

    Thubz: I mean the language question is also a part of that flip we were talking about. When you get into a professional environment, you need to be professional enough to translate what you want to say in a way that they can understand, but you also need to be able to use vernac confidently; because you know, that they know what you are talking about.

    Dimpho: I remember we were, at some stage, watching an ad it was trying to speak to the black community but everything just felt totally wrong and that happens so often! That is why we need to be the change.

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    Recruit Name: Lesego Maphutha – Graphic Designer/Art Director
    Artwork: Black Label – Celebrating woman of power throughout the year ( Poster Campaign )

    GW: That leads to the next question I want to ask, because a lot of the articles I have read are like; ‘Umuzi’s cool because it’s about disadvantaged youth.’ They actually use and repeat this reductive terminology as the primary description of the people engaged in this space… So I want to try to address that by explicitly asking about the diversity of the Umuzi Recruits?

    Thubz: There is so much! We range from a 19 year old, right through to a 29 year old- that’s a difference of 10 years! But what is important is that those people still feed off of each other and create together; there are no barriers or hierarchies where it’s like ‘oh, I’m older than you’ or whatever.

    Kgomotso: We are all so different! For example, you get people from rural KZN who come to learn here, you get people from Soweto, you get people who grew up in the burbs, and so the cultures and backgrounds are really varied. I think that’s one of the reasons why we end up having such a diversity of content; because we all have different ways that we see the world and our surroundings.

    Thubz: That’s actually really important because often, the assumption in the industry or in the media, is that a township is a township and that everyone goes through the same stuff. So if you come from a township, the attitude is like, ‘oh, you went through that thing or you know what we’re talking about.’ But something I’ve really experienced through Umuzi, is that every single township is so different; they all have their own cultures and unique lingos, which are so rich and beautiful!

    GW: Obviously Umuzi is very youth-focussed and relatively early on there was the shift from the high school students to the tertiary level. Is there more you want to say about the youth aspect of the work or why the youth are so important within creative industries?

    Dimpho: The youth are a huge demographic in this country and it’s really important that we are spoken to in a way that we understand. Because we are from that place, we know how to speak from it in a real way. Also important is the fact that we have witnessed the recent shift or explosion in youth consciousness within this country. We have been right in the middle of a transition, and so we have witnessed both perspectives in terms of the youth of the past and the youth of today… we carry a bit of both.

    Kgomotso: I think we are living in a very crucial time; there are so many things that are happening and changing and it is mostly because of us. We have seen so many injustices happening for such a long time and now we are directly addressing these things; often through creativity. It’s up to us to communicate the things that are happening and we are finding that we are able to do this even with people who maybe don’t understand or properly see what’s going on. So it’s massively important as the youth of now, that we create content that is able to communicate these things.

    Thubz: I think the youth of today is like a juxtaposition between now and the youth of ‘76. It’s been a really long time since they’ve had a voice, and I’m not exactly sure what the reasons for that are, but they’re speaking and it’s important to listen to that now! That’s something we feel quite strongly about at Umuzi.

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    GW: There’s maybe something interesting here that connects the economy to the politics. I think contemporary youth sometimes get quite frustrated when older people look at them like, ‘oh, they’re pretty useless because they’re not employed by this age, or they don’t have this by that age, or they’re not married by that age’ or whatever… without necessarily realising how much things have changed; it’s a totally different operating system. But the point is that that attitude kind of implies the lament of ‘where are the youth’ or ‘where are the great youth leaders of today?’ But now it’s like ‘whoa, they’re here!’ And not only are they here in conscious ways that don’t buy into empty rhetoric, but they’re also totally remaking things in really interesting ways… they’re creating their own economies.

    Thubz: We’re touching on something really important which we haven’t spoken about; because there hasn’t been a huge culture of young creative professionals within our communities, there are almost no role models. Getting your family to understand- before you even talk about the money- that you want to, for example, be a designer or an art director; they often don’t understand what that means. So you are already challenged, within your home to try to explain yourself. You don’t have a successful next-door neighbour you can point to, or you don’t have an uncle who knows somebody, who knows somebody, who will hook you up, so that your mom will feel comfortable or secure enough to let you go into that industry. So the great leaders have always been here… they just haven’t had the opportunities… especially from a creative perspective.

    Kgomotso: Being in this time and looking at the media landscape, I think that one of the ways in which the youth have been able to claim their power is through social media. Today there are so many ways to put your voice out there, so in that way, there is also an important direct link between the youth’s consciousness and the format of media itself. There’s this ability to have a direct voice…

    Dimpho: …You don’t have to wait for specific events anymore. You can raise your voice and speak about a topic at any time and it’s always amazing how many people actually want to speak back.

    GW: I guess that’s another kind of flip or feedback mechanism, because Umuzi is engaging with a changing media landscape, where you learn that your own voice is a powerful thing.

    Kgomotso: Exactly. As much as social media is a virtual thing, it’s also the real word and about real things that are happening. We can recognise those connections and carry that perspective into the work that we do.

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    Recruit Name: Kgodisho “Zito” Mowa – Graphic Designer/Art Director
    Artwork: The Mzansian ( Social Media Campaign )

    GW: I want to ask a bit more about the operational specifics- I know that you have had various recruitment campaigns; how does this aspect function?

    Thubz: We have a recruitment drives every couple of months- I think right now it’s every 4 to 6 months. With every drive we have a campaign. Because we are so fluid and learn and evolve so much within the periods between recruitments, we try to take what we have learnt from previous Cohorts or from new people who have come in, and we let that influence us in developing the next campaign. We refer to the people who come in on specific recruitment drives as Cohorts and we are now on Cohort 5. The Cohorts aren’t annually structured; it’s more organic than that.

    GW: That’s quite important, because for people who may have been restricted from entering other institutions, it’s often like, well, what are you supposed to do after that? Through Umuzi’s intake process opportunities are opened up, rather than shut down.

    Thubz: People also drop out of school at different times and for different reasons. People find themselves in many different situations. With us, you don’t have to then sit and wait it out for the rest of the year, while not pursuing your goals.

    Kgomotso: And this structure is also something that has evolved over time. In the beginning it was more of a traditional, annual thing. So it’s an example of the ways that Umuzi adapts in relation to the realities of this country.

    Thubz: Umuzi is a working example of free education. There is also a small stipend provided for transportation; so access is a critical consideration throughout our entire operation.

    GW: Next I want to ask; do you perhaps want to mention any successful or notable alumni?

    [All laugh and make comments about ‘pretty much everyone’]

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    Recruit Name: Kgomotso “Neto” Tleane – Alumni Photographer
    Image Description: Image taken at Fees must fall” used for the  “Take your power to the polls” campaign

    Thubz: It’s a difficult to say ‘these are the people’, because there are those who are successful and are under the spotlight, and then there are those who are successful and aren’t under the spotlight. I guess I could say, once again, how we measure ourselves is through the industry response or through actual employment. Throughout 2015, we had an 80% employment rate which is pretty phenomenal if you think about it!

    GW: I want to ask a bit about what the days look like or how things are actually structured. I know you have also had some really great Master Classes; I saw on the blog that you’ve had sessions with Lebogang Rasethaba, Zwelethu Radebe and Dr Peter Magubane. Maybe you can tell me a bit more about the way things function and also about the mentorship aspect?

    Thubz: We are constantly evolving; so the way that we did things with Cohort 1 is very different to the way that we did things with Cohort 4. For the first 3 months of the year, you go through what we call a crash-course. In those months you go from department to department- there are 6 (photography, graphic design, digital marketing, traffic, videography, and copywriting) and you spend 2 weeks in each… everyone moves around and gets a taste of everything. After that, you move on to specialisation, where for 6 months you intensively focus on the department you came here for. If you change your mind about what you want to do during the crash-course, you are able to make that change.

    GW: Taking into account some of the gaps we have spoken about, that exposure and option to shift is kind of amazing; there seems to be a reflexivity to the fact that many incoming creatives may not have actually had exposure to the variety of career paths that exist?

    Thubz: Exactly. Then in the last few months of the programme, the Cohort is sent for work experience, where they really get to test out everything they’ve learnt during the process.

    GW: Do you want to say anything about the Master Classes?

    Kgomotso: What’s interesting for me is that we get exposed to a lot of black professionals, so that’s really inspiring and a lot of the things that they say are relatable to us. So, in ways, that fills the role model gap we were speaking about earlier.

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    Recruit Name: Tshepiso Mabula – Cohort 4 Photographer Recuit
    Image Name: Tshepiso Church – Part of a series

    GW: I’m going through the nitty-gritty here, but how do the exhibitions work?

    Thubz: The exhibitions used to be about the old annual structure, so they would look at the whole year of work and celebrate that. What we do now, is we have something called #COM or Creative of the Month. People get to submit their work online and there’s a panel that then selects an overall winner. The plan- we’ve only done one so far- is that we will print all of the work that comes in and this is going to form future exhibitions. So anyone, from any Cohort, past or present, is able to submit, again returning to the Community Pillar.

    GW: I want to then quickly ask about some of the individual projects I’ve picked up on; like The Bicycle Stokvel project and the Backroom Space project. From what I can tell, it seems like there’s a willingness to highlight the work that Umuzi students do; their own initiatives that occur even beyond the institution?

    Kgomotso: There is a supportive attitude towards individual projects and that’s important because often, like in those examples, these projects are about taking art out of inaccessible spaces and making it available to the communities and to the general public. So these are ways that the Recruits are applying and putting their knowledge into practice.

    GW: We’ve had a really generative discussion and I think we’ve picked up on some important dynamics in terms of how Umuzi operates, so I think let’s close it up by just asking if each of you perhaps want to share some final words?

    Kgomotso: For me, Umuzi changes the way that you see things. Even if you already come from an alternative perspective, it helps you to structure your work and hones your ability to articulate that. Through Umuzi I feel like I’ve been enabled to create real work with strong purpose.

    Dimpho: I’d like to pick up again on the point of creating visibility around the creative sector as something able to provide viable careers. Through Umuzi’s work, people within our communities are exposed to that, so all of these processes are generating real change.

    Thubz: I want to touch on what Kgomotso said in relation to the projects, which really relates to our role and our vision. I really connect with the work that Umuzi Recruits are creating because that really is challenging the South African narrative in one way or another. They are breaking down walls, which is awesome and makes me really excited… because art and creativity don’t belong inside the walls of specific, predefined spaces.

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    Recruit Name: Kgomotso “Neto” Tleane – Alumni Photographer
    Image Name: 0.01 and x2 vote- The Honey (Ongoing online Campaign)
  • Pussy Party Politik

    It’s dark and warm in the sweet sweat-scented nightclub. Exclusively female and femme-identified DJs stroke the decks — a sonic pleasure patrol, an Empress insurrection. There’s a Hello Kitty pussy-cat vagazzling the DJ booth, backlit by velvet and a lick of pink lighting. Think Pussy Pride. Pussy Play. Pussy Power. Pussy Party. It’s a story about how femme bodies might take back the dancefloor.

    Pussy Party pops off every second Wednesday of the month at Kitcheners, offering a platform in which femme DJs and artists can “practice, incubate, exchange and expose”. The organisers describe it as“an experiment in amplifying feminine energy on the dance floor”, an act of “yielding beyond the gender binary”, a femmeditation. In a thickly and narrowly-defined masculine industry, Pussy Party has sought to nurture and celebrate young female and femme-identified talent: each party is preceded by a three-hour workshop for aspirant femme selektas.

    Three months in, Pussy Parties have boasted a fierce line-up of femme foxes: SistaMatik, FAKA, Lady Skollie, DJ Doowop, DJ Mystikal Ebony, LoveslavePhola, and Lil Bow.  But the curators, creators, and dancefloor equators behind Pussy Party are DJs Phatstoki and Rosie Parade. Rosie Parade (AKA Coco) is part of Broaden a New Sound, music curators for Kitcheners.

    When we arrived at Kitcheners, in 2009, courtesy of Andrew the DJ, there was nothing. There wasn’t 70 Juta. There wasn’t Smokehouse. Nothing was happening at Alexander Theatre. Kitcheners was a dive bar. I had my 21st birthday here at a time when what is now the bathroom was the office, when Great Dane was just an empty hall. Initially Kitcheners was the type of venue anyone could book. Butin late 2014 we were conscious to say ‘Okay, what’s happening to the space around us? What’s happening to the club? What’s happening to the dancefloor?‘

    Phatstoki (AKA Gontse) is a music mixologist and penetrating photographer, whose artistic raw material has been gathered through a lifetime of traversing city, suburb, village and Soweto, where she now lives. Phatstoki’s fluid audio-eclecticism resonated with Broaden a New Sound, whose mandate has been to curate genre-bending, and in this case, gender-bending night-spaces. ‘Phatsoki’s had this series of mixes called Boobs and Honey ’Rosie Parade remembers. ‘Boobs and Honey! Those are literally like my top two things (laughs) ’The two groove goddesses, Rosie Parade and Phatstoki became reciprocal fan-girls, teaming up to create what is now Pussy Party.

    ‘I remember walking through the club and being approached constantly’, Rosie Parade says, ‘being pressurised constantly by men.’ Whether a baggy hoody, or a tight skirt, or a long dress — each garment is re-imagined as the self-same solicitation. And so, femme bodies are propelled through a current of pull—stroke—squeeze—clutch. The crowd become an excuse to make the brash laying of hands appear accidental. And the dancefloor — ‘Hey baby’ — becomes — ‘You look like a million dollars’ — an exercise — ‘I like your…’ — in carving out space and protecting one’s borders. Just the presence of a woman in a nightclub, particularly if alone, can be read as implicit consent for all manner of invasions.

    Then there are those femme bodies that outwardly supersede gender circumscription. Courageous, embattled bodies living dangerous, defiant and godly in a beyond-binary space — whose bodies are cowardly read as provocations to violence.  As Desire Marea of FAKA once told me, a proximate dance might result in a punch to the face.

    ‘Looking at the dancefloor’, Rosie Parade explained, ‘there came a point [where we as Kitchener’s management thought] ‘Okay there’s a lot of guys. Women [and femme-identified men] are telling us that they feel unsafe. That’s not a positive club environment. I’m privileged that the management and staff at Kitcheners trust and respect me. So it’s about ‘What do I have that I can use?’ And for me, this space, and these people, this is what I have that I can use’

    ‘Maybe’, says Phatstoki,‘there’s a space for women/femme energies to actually own the dancefloor — not just necessarily own the dancefloor so that guys can hang around, but own the dancefloor ‘cos we actually wanna party, for us. We are the party, so can we actually be given the space to do just that.’

    Go to an instalment of Pussy Party and you’ll still find many men. ‘To be quite honest I don’t think femmes want to exclude men’ Phatstoki says. ‘We just want some goddamn respect! Maybe this is a way we can teach them. Ya’ll are more than welcome, but ya’ll need to know what this party is about. If you don’t like it, by all means [leave]… if you wanna appreciate our efforts and party with us, please do…’ But understand that ‘it’s not your night tonight, you know’.

    True to its name, Pussy Party, in monthly cycles, sets out to be a place of warmth, and pleasure — to cradle and excite us. It changes its shape to let us in, remoulding the club-space into a femme-positive experimental sanctuary. It can ache for us. It can be potentiallylife-giving. But, as with any pussy, right of admission is reserved. There are pre-requisites of respect, appreciation and recognition that Pussy Party is grappling with enforcing.

    ‘Actually’, Rosie Parade says,‘what’s been simple is: put women behind the decks, or femme-identified individuals behind the decks [and] the femmes in the space respond. Tell people that it’s a space for femmes and honeys will come through’.

    Both Rosie Parade and Phatstoki know that this is the awkward, messy, beautiful beginning — of a movement to disrupt club cultures. ‘It’s still marginalised. You couldn’t do this on a weekend. We’re mid-week and we’re mid-month. It’s not payday weekend’. 

    They also know that Pussy Party, as it stands, attracts a particular, pre-defined Model C, middle class. ‘But [for this space], this is how it starts’, says Phatstoki. ‘I want to bring these issues up, and depending on how we address them, that’s when I’ll know if we’re serious about the movement or not. [We need to make sure we] don’t forget those who go through the most [regarding this subject].’

    The Pussy Party agenda aspires to openness. ‘Come through and tap us on the shoulder and say what’s up. This is the night to come through. If you have a problem coming through, tell us about the problem. I think you need to admit where you’ve gone wrong and made mistakes ’Rosie Parade says. ‘Openness. That’s a big part of a femme party’, Phatstoki adds, smiling. ‘That flexibility. It can stretch’, laughs Rosie Parade, and it can shrink. It can self-lubricate’.

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  • Imraan Christian: The Decolonizing Gaze

    Imraan Christian is a young photographer and filmmaker from the Cape Flats whose work is  capturing international attention.  After graduating from the University of Cape Town in 2014, he was on hand to document the explosive events of Fees Must Fall in October 2015. His  photographs are a powerful record of the wild days of student protest erupting across the country, with his keen eye capturing both the passion of the young protesters and the violence of the state response.  While much of the media tried to infantilise and criminalise the student’s demands, Christian lets the slogans on placards wielded by demonstrators speak for themselves.  An image captured on a march from UCT reads- ‘post-apartheid racist society says: you are poor because you are uneducated. Go get a degree! Colonial elitist universities say you are too poor to take yourself out of poverty.  # we are fucked’.  Such eloquence contrasts with the brutal images of police meeting students with tear gas, stun grenades and assault.  The establishment’s inability to understand young people is captured in a darkly humorous image of higher education minister Blade Nzimande standing behind a gate with a look of total incomprehension while a protest storms around him.

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    Christian’s powerful photographs quickly went viral on social media, and were syndicated in international publications. But these photographs are just one aspect of his artistic project. His diverse portfolio ranges from the South African Film and Television Awards nominated documentary Jas Boude (co-directed with Georgina Warner) to numerous photography projects .  This work is united by the desire to confront structural racism and inequality, and its corrosive effects on the lives of young people.  In the series Rise From The Roots, he used the fashion editorial format to ‘subvert and transcend the accepted colonial narrative of a group of black men being dangerous and/or criminals’, by showing the elegant clothes of the ToneSociety collective on the streets of Cape Town. A similar subversion occurs in Jas Boude, which follows a group of skateboarders from the dangerous Valhalla Park into the city centre.  Through the film’s intimate focus on character the spatial inequalities of Cape Town, and South Africa more generally, become glaringly apparent.  Behind the image of a gilded tourist trap, the city is characterised by catastrophic violence, poverty and trauma. The State is all too happy to have these problems contained in ‘peripheral’ spaces on the Cape Flats.  Black and coloured youth are trapped between a lack of formal opportunities, criminal stereotypes and a system eager to send them to the prison or the cemetery.  Christian is challenging this bleak picture, through both his work and career.  At a young age, he has challenged hateful typecasting of young coloured people by winning international acclaim through his sheer mastery of visual mediums.

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    His more recent projects blend political documentary and protest art. Death of a Dream is a stunning and disturbing response to state repression, in South Africa and beyond. In it, student activists are decked in funeral black. One stares at the camera with simulated bullet wound, fired by a sinister masked gunmen behind her.  The point is clear- both the physical death of young bodies, and the symbolic destruction of their hope for a better future.  The photos are staged so perfectly that the activists almost seem like mythological figures of death, their gazes drilling into the viewer’s skull.  Along with documenting contemporary South Africa, Christian’s imagery resonates with global issues of power, control and oppression.

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