Tag: art

  • The Creative Self, According to Scoop Makhathini

    Over December, Johannesburg is a city that empties. Residents escape to their family homes or holiday beaches, leaving the once-bustling metropolis surprisingly quiet. The Eastern Cape experiences a reverse effect as its towns and villages swell with relatives returning home. In Port Elizabeth, one of these returnees is Siyabonga Ngwekazi, who most of us know as Scoop Makhathini.

    A prolific television presenter, and a high priest of South African street culture, Scoop serves as a cultural medium, a multi-spectral prism of the country’s street artistry.

    Music and the arts, they come from this place that’s very godly, very heavenly’, Scoop says. Like any other medium, his talent has been to interpret the divine for an everyday audience; to draw linkages between past, present, and future; and to serve as an interpreter for the creative world.

    “I think that’s why I’m here — it’s to take these pieces, or blocks, of creative South Africa. Because I understand where they’re coming from. And I can chop it up into little bite-sized pieces for your mainstream audience to understand to be able to digest: to be able to understand the weird crowd, the off-centre crowd. In a medium that’s easy to them. Most creatives can’t speak about themselves. They can’t explain. It’s hard for them because they feel like they leave it all out on the canvas, or they leave it all out in the sculpture, or they leave it all out in the track. So analyzing them and getting someone to understand, ‘Oh this is why this person paints like this or uses these colours. Oh I get it. It’s also relatable to who I am’”.

    Often there is a chasm between Scoop’s TV audience, and the creative world he spends his time in, where so few people access media through television. His ability to reach across this gap, to a multiverse of audiences, is part his own artistry.  Anyone can be a TV presenter”, Scoop says, “but it’s about ‘What are you saying? Who are you speaking to?” In presenting, Scoop not only showcases local creativity to a mass audience. In doing so, he also interprets it, diagnoses it, and drives some of its biggest trends.

    Part of what allows Scoop to translate across diverse peoples and places is that he, like so many generations of men before him, moves in a cyclical way from Johannesburg to the Eastern Cape, and back.  Siyabonga grew up with three siblings. His mother was a teacher and his father a truck driver. He talks vividly about the bleak representations of black men in his 1980’s neighborhood: “the emerald green hat, the blue overalls, the checkered shirt, the denim jeans, and finally, “that boot”. “Those brown army boots with the steal toe that dads used to wear for MK or marches or toyi-toyi.” 

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    Amidst all this, Siya dug his dreams into hip-hop and basketball, reaching through his television screen for portrayals of powerful blackness, thousands of miles away. “Rap and [American] sports were the first time in the 80s you saw a black guy look like something. You saw guys with the cars and the clothes and the jewelry and the girls and the confidence and the bravado. That’s when you knew the difference between America and South Africa. And even though they were oppressed, at least they could be this.” It’s clear that from very early in Scoop’s life, clothes, television and street culture carried powerful identity politics, and emancipatory potential.

    Today, Scoop has 12 years of industry experience under his very-fashionable belt and a blossoming career.

    As a trend-spotter, pioneer, and supporter of the country’s creative industry, Scoop’s notoriety has come from his ability to bring attention to others. “I think it’s because when I started getting cred, I never kept it. I see who’s next. I hear who’s next. I’ve seen what notoriety can do for someone’s life. Be it bills, or be it the confidence, or be it helping out the family”.

    But there’s “this thing in Jo’burg”, he told me: “hoarding the props”. “People are very scared to tell someone how good they’re doing, or how that person inspired them, or how they’ve got respect for that person”. All for fear of losing their position. “When there’s nothing, it’s amazing how close everyone gets. But as soon as a breadcrumb lands in between two people, watch them scramble in the dark to find a crumb. Not even look for the loaf. Or the bakery.”

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    Scoop’s vision now is retrospective, focusing his prism on the knowledges of his ancestral past.  “I’d really like to be home in Port Elizabeth, learning about how to slaughter a cow, how to clean its insides. From birth to death, I need to be able to recite which ceremonies need to be done, which liquor is needed, which rooms certain things are kept in.” 

    Always a medium, Scoop’s own reflections serve as a refracted mirror of a generation — their conflicts and their creativity.

    “I [like so many others] have learnt about Jordan’s and Nike which has nothing to do with me! I’ve been to a school where all I’ve learned has fuck all to do with me! So I just want to learn about me. It’s been such a long road travelled now. What I’m really yearning for is to stay next to my father and have him teach me how to be black again.”

    For Scoop, the biggest risk to the creative industry is the loss of self. Especially since, “the creative realm is just a realm in search of self. These kids think they’re searching for a label or a t-shirt. Everybody’s just searching for themselves”. And that ‘everyone’ includes Scoop Makhathini himself.

    I go to PE and it’s always where I learn how far I’ve drifted from being a normal person”. It’s clear that despite being a celebrity, and having unique access to ethereal artistry, Scoop remains deliberately (and sometimes controversially) committed to his own messy personhood. His Twitter feed and his show ‘Forever Young’ offer intimate access to Siyabonga the person, beyond Scoop the persona.

    “I think it comes from a place [of] just wanting to be a human being, to experiment, to have views, even though they’re wrong. So often [in the industry], people have to fight to get liked. Everyone likes being liked, but I think I also like being disliked, because at least then I don’t have to retain that approval”. 

    Although we expect celebrity role models to strive for exemplary leadership, there is something powerful in Scoop’s embrace of the imperfect: it gives others the audacity to lead when they might have once have been off-put by the pressure to be faultless.

    Like so many mediums before him, Scoop often speaks in metaphor. “I just like swimming upstream”, he says. “There’s not much to discover if I go that way with everyone else. There’s not much to discover about myself, about the world that we’re living in, about the people around me”.  And that is what creative ‘success’, he believes, should be about. “What really pains me?”, he says. “We’ll excel at so many things, but we will not excel at being ourselves”.

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    Photography by Jamal Nxedlana

    Assisted by Lesole Tauatswala

  • Illustrator Nokwanda Themba creates whimsical reflections of self and women of colour

    I caught up with young, up-and-coming illustrator Nokwanda Themba to chat about her work and her vision for the future.

    “I’m studying a BSc in Human Physiology. But I have been drawing since I was a child,” Nokwanda explained when asked about how her journey as a freelance illustrator began. Having always had an interest in art and not having any formal training in any kind of visual discipline, she took it upon herself to allow her enthusiasm for drawing to blossom by teaching herself various techniques and experimenting with different mediums. Working consistently at trying to refine her skills, the evolution of her work took off when she started working with fine point pens. From this point she could see herself growing into her illustrator boots and developing her own style.

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    Nokwanda draws inspiration from a wide range of illustrators and artists. Itumeleng Kunene whose fine liner work and focus on women has had a large influence on the way Nokwanda depicts the focal subjects in most her work; women. Nokwanda describes herself as a Womanist, “[meaning embracing] all kinds of femininity and just loving women,” she explained. Nokwanda has also gained the confidence to expand the range of her work by looking at the watercolour work of Ojo, the heroine within her pool of illustrators and artists from whom she draws inspiration. Nokwanda’s recent experimentation  with watercolours combined with her fine liner work has added texture and depth to her illustrations. This is not the first time she has tried to include a different dimension to her work. Nokwanda has also experimented with creating collages, taking direction from illustrators who have tried collage work in their own practices.

     

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    Nokwanda describes her illustrations as a reflection of her personality. “My work is whimsical, quirky. It’s got a lotta life!” she exclaimed. The similarities between her and her work became quite clear when her giggles and cute comments during our conversation reminded me of the squiggles and playful style of her illustrations. These fun doodles often surround the protagonists of her work; women of colour who wear their hair as crowns.

    Being a young illustrator who has stepped in from outside of creative circles as well as being a woman of colour, Nokwanda has found that not being taken seriously at times and being overlooked has been a challenge she has had to face. However, she continues to carve out a space for herself through her commission work, growing her online following and being part of exhibitions such as The Roof Top Exhibition hosted by SA Creatives last year.

    Nokwanda dreams of getting into design and one day creating what she described as “a Typo for brown girls”. Keep up-to-date with her work by checking out her on Behance and Instagram.

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  • Notion of Form // Constructing Platforms for Multi-Culturalism in a Global World

    Swathes of rich honey melt into tones of sun yellow. Individuals representing divergent identities are sheathed together. The rich cloth, draped over two figures, depicts a unified form.

    Mina Lundgren, Swedish artist and designer is the founder of Notion of Form. Employing a conceptual approach to the field of fashion, the project began out of a desire “to create a modern abstract expression that visualized diversity avoiding clichéd representations such as exoticism, symbolism or statement fashion.”

    Lundgren was fatigued and frustrated with the prevalence of “stereotypical multicultural fashion” and created the brand as a platform to explore alternative options. “I wanted to create a visual language that was universal in the sense that anyone, regardless of where they came from, could comprehend it.”

    Minimalist shapes are “explored through dynamic expressions” in which the “subtle and suggestive features of the abstracted body”. The visual language constructed in Notion of Form is founded on a “minimalist/maximalist” aesthetic in which bold colour, structure and form take precedence in this “raw essentialism”.

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    Notion of form is conceptually rooted in a sculptural approach in the field of cross cultural dress, as an attempt to navigate and avoid the pitfalls of ‘othering’. “The aim for Notion of Form is that its products can effortlessly be appreciated and integrated in different parts of the world.” As diversity is celebrated and visualized through abstract forms and colors.

    The project is also an innovative collaboration with Nigerian fashion photographer Lakin Ogunbanwo. For a long time, Lundgren had felt an affinity towards his vibrant and conceptually bold work. In which Ogunbanwo often explores and consolidates identity politics and a larger cultural collective in a visual field. “I love the rawness in his photography and how he works with the body as a form as well as his strong use of colours.”

    Navigating multi-culturalism in an ever increasingly globalised world is a challenging project to undertake. As a primary position Lundgren describes the importance of tolerance in order to co-exsist. “As a western cultural practitioner its especially important to not culturally appropriate, commercialize or commodify other cultures. Nevertheless, cultures are not stagnant phenomena and are results of multiple influences merged together through history and it’s important to understand our own role in society when creating new expressions.”

    She sees the future of Notion of Form extending into other collections and projects. “I’m interested in abstracting the body even more into pure forms. I want to investigate this both through commercial clothing and through an artistic approach.” Lundgren also plans for more collaborations that proliferate the Notion of Form philosophy.

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  • Open Time Coven – Mxit and Mythology

    Bogosi Sekhukhuni consolidates millennial media technology and inherited cultural practices – creating complex modes of identity in the digital age. Although geographically located in Johannesburg, the web of his reach extends far beyond the metropole. “I was raised to understand myself as an African first, and secondly as a South African. My grandmother is from Botswana and I grew up regularly visiting Gaborone. From a young age I was surrounded by my mother’s peers, a lot of whom were visitors from around the continent.”

    Aspect of heterogeneity precipitate through other elements of his life too. Over the course of his career Sekhukhuni has constructed a visual language matrix. He refers to this process of historical excavation as “throwback visual culture mining”, drawing on his own subjective experience as well as a larger discourse of popular culture. Influences are drawn from his experience of the “black aspirant middle class” and growing up with early South African social media technologies such as mxit. “I mainly draw influence from other artists or people through the attitude they present their ideas in more than the content itself.”

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    As a conceptual artist, his practice orbits around notions of dismantling oppressive and outdated knowledge systems. “It’s tragic that our curriculums pay homage to the ideas and histories of others more than our own. To me, this is a fundamental problem. Our obsession with the future is based on a materialist approach to space-time. I’m interested in learning about how my ancestors understood reality and applying that to my practice and life.” Sekhukhuni aims to amend the Pan African agenda and shift its focus to spiritual development. “I think we need to draw more from African spirituality and realise the potential for social transformation that’s inherent in it. We need more right brain female energy in African leadership.”

    Sekhukhuni engages with the information economy in his work. His recent launch of Open Time Coven serves as a new platform of access and intervention. As a manifestation of his online presence, the site is a direct conduit to share his ideas to a global audience. Art products and a store will be hosted on the website by Sekhukhuni and his collaborators every new moon. He will also be participating in an annual studio residency exhibition at the Bag Factory – exploring the trauma culture in Johannesburg. Restore the Feeling opens on the 28th of July.

  • Creative Open Call announced by the British Council’s Connect ZA Arts Programme

    The British Council’s Connect ZA Arts Programme supports, highlights, and extends collaborative cultural exchanges between South Africa and the UK. They work across a wide variety of art forms in order to discover and nurture new and existing talent and connections between young people aged 18 to 35. They’ve been pioneering innovative ways to understand and engage creativity for three successful seasons and, following hot-on-the-heels of the reconceptualization of their visual identity in partnership with Bubblegum Club, are launching their next dynamic and exciting phase through the 2016/17 Creative Open Call.

    Whether you are an individual, a small to medium sized creative organisation, or a large scale cultural institution, Connect ZA invites your bold proposal to culminate in a “high quality live, or digital performance, showcase or other public facing event” through the open call titled ‘New Partners, New Projects, New Spaces’. As the call states; “We are looking for a strong mix of projects that may be a combination of more than one art form” but there is particular emphasis on proposals engaging the sectors of live performance and visual art. The call also strongly encourages applications from women in order to try to address issues of their underrepresentation within creative industries.

    Connect ZA are eager to back original and potentially ground-breaking new projects that are devised and designed for a contemporary urban context, as well as for the correct age demographic. It is also important that proposals are mutually beneficial for artists, audiences, and participants in both countries and that they are able “to engage and extend reach across multiple digital platforms,” such as social media. There are amounts of up to £3 500, £7 500, and £15 000 available within the three different Creative Categories so, if you have a great idea, but aren’t able to realise it without some financial support, check out the full guidelines here and download the application form here. Take note that applications close on Monday 18 July 2016. Fingers crossed!

  • Sewing black history back on to the streets – in conversation with Nkuli Mlangeni, founder of The Ninevites.

    The Ninevites was a resistance movement who scoured the South African frontier during the late 1900s. Having started the collective under The Ninevites name in 2012, Nkuli Mlangeni would do so because of how fascinated she was in its story, which was shrouded in so much myth.

    What the Kagiso native found crazy was that so many people didn’t even know of their story. The Ninevites lends its name from the Bible, whose people were religious rebels who challenged God.  These young men engaged in criminal activities under a colonised South Africa and sought to challenge the injustices faced by themselves as well as their people.

    Yet what pushed the artist, designer, and collaborator to choose this name was the context in which she found herself working at the time. She worked in the media and curated pieces in Cape Town, and started to see how in spaces, advertising in particular, black culture was being misrepresented.

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    Fashion as the political

    Nkuli decided that she wanted to make things, things like those made during fashion week, but would use “normal” looking people as her models. It is in the normal that she finds her inspiration. For her, black style and how she sees it occurring on downtown Johannesburg’s streets and walkways is being shown in “Move” and “Drum” Magazine. She believes two different styles are at play: those represented in Fashion week and those where she get her inspiration, from such streets and her neighbours.

    The artist draws her style from Ausi Lele, from her mother’s friends, guys, the people who hang out in Kagiso. She loves the kind of style that you don’t pay too much for, the kind that requires you to work with things you already have and are most practical.

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    Yet there is another goal within her work, and that is about wanting to bring people together through fabric.

    Nkuli recently came back from having done research in Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru. For her, South American cultures have similarities to those found in South Africa. Her interests lie in south-to-south collaborations where our histories are similar: there is a shared sense of a colonial history and a sense of responsibility to our waning traditions. She wants to make collaborations within this space, learning from each other’s ideas and the techniques of each other’s crafts.

    It is in such a space that The Ninevites function to bring artists, designers and crafts people together. Nkuli uses this name as a facilitator in making such projects come to life. She spends her time researching and looking for artists, and then working with them to move an idea forward.

    In her latest project, Nkuli worked within the collective to create intricate handmade rugs. Under the collective’s name, she brought two graphic designers, one from Brazil and the other from South Africa, to work on the styling of the rugs. She also brought in a weaver, Mario – a resident in the city of Lima in Peru.

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    Tradition made for now

    It is through such works that we see Nkuli’s obsession with tradition, drawing particular inspiration from the way it is worn by those who follow it.  She gives the example of Zionists, whose religion is steeped in traditional beliefs. She loves how their followers wear their uniforms with such pride, taking care to keep them crisp and white. Right now her biggest inspiration comes from her Ndebele heritage, paying much homage to their motifs in her works.

    Nkuli’s latest works with textiles yielded a piece titled “Mangaliso rug” – a modern take on signature Ndebele design. Its name contains a history, yet its function as a rug makes it applicable to our every day lives.

    Nkuli explains that in her previous works she would print the images of black heroes on children’s T-shirts. She does so to remind people that these people exist. In giving these works the images and names of people in black history, the designer has brought their story back into our lives. She sees such names as a good entry point to having the much needed conversation about our past and to make people question their own understandings of it.

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    Her other works also hold the names of Mangalizo, Queen Zinga, and Thomas Sankara. Nkuli is interested in such stories. She says many are not happy ones, yet they are stories that need to be told and are still relevant, as many black men and woman go through such hell, still today. They are “garden boys” during the day and then fathers at night. Many of them have grown without fathers and yet we have judges who proceed to throw stupid comments about black men, knowing nothing of the many lives that she knows nothing about.

    Yet Nkuli does not consider herself political. As much as her references may be seeped in the political, she does not think of herself as knowing or being educated enough to talk about politics. She wants to work from intuition. She does it because it looks good and because it is accessible to those who would make use of it.

    Black life as living history 

    In creating such works of homage to black life, Nkuli also hopes to move away from the misrepresentation and commodification of black life. Citing the works of Thabiso Sekgala, Santu Mofokeng, and her favourite photographer of all time Sabelo Mlangeni, she sees their works as showing the lives of black people not as objects for consumption. She draws much inspiration from the works of Alexia Webster who documented pantsula life, seeing their works as the celebration of black lives.

    Looking at her work we see a creator unashamedly and beautifully borrow from local crafts and culture. We see her work as paying a type of homage to a living culture under threat in South Africa but by also remoulding it. She creates art that we can wear and use in our homes so as to re-introduce us to black heroes of our past. In doing so, Nkuli shows us how our culture can evolve to suit the complex interactions that youth have to engage in. As black bodies, we wear our history in our skin, in our clothes, and our ideas.

    Nkuli’s work is tantamount to such an expression. Her work reflects a navigation of black selves in a post-colonial space in search for our own spaces. She sees fashion, textiles and style as very much being inspired by her love of cloth. Yet for her, it also plays a much deeper function of connecting people and their ideas to a common purpose.

    You can follow Nkuli on Instagram and on her blog.

  • Skattie Celebrates – Spotlight on Rose Gelderblom Waddilove

    Fashion and design website Skattie has been piloting a new way to give emerging artists exposure with their  Celebrates parties. The concept is that a gallery space is hired out for one night only and turned into an exhibition/party.  There previous exhibitions looked at  Laura Windvogel and Unathi Mkonto, while this weekend’s will focuses on Cape Town artist Rose Gelderblom Waddilove.

    Rose trained in print media, but works across painting, performance and new media.  As she told us- ‘Stories of art and pain have motivated much of my research’. A recent trip to occupied Palestine had been especially significant- ‘it has allowed me an opportunity to reflect on the state of the nation in South Africa, the symbolic ending of apartheid and issues of solidarity and identity’.  This focus on the contemporary moment in South Africa incorporates a particular fascination with ‘the position of an individual within the crowd’.

    For her Skattie show she will be showing a broad spectrum of her prior work. These will include prints she made while studying at UCT and performance piece collaborations with artist Adam Jon Williams.  A particular highlight is the painting she made on the border wall in the West Bank.  The party will also showcase some of her new work, dealing ‘with major statistics, crowds, trauma and loss. This year marks 50 years since the declaration of District 6 as whites only area. 2016 marks 40 years since the 1976 Soweto Uprising as well as 20 years of the Constitution. My most recent work aims purely to begin to locate creative self-expression at this moment in time’.

    Alongside the exhibition, Skattie will be providing a downloadable online publication of Roses work, created in partnership with Art Africa magazine. The party will also feature a wide line up of dj’s for the evening. It starts at 6PM on Saturday at the Ava Gallery, 35 Church Street, Cape Town.

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  • In conversation with Milisuthando Bongela: Black consciousness through a critical art and the art of the critical consciousness

    Our discussion would be held at one of Joburg’s popular high-end speciality stores, chosen for its open Terrace restaurants that would allow for the best enjoyment of the warm morning rays.

    Milisuthando Bongela arrived in her Sunday best. Wrapped in a confidence and strength that hinted at the unwitting voyeur, that this woman had set her own path. Having studied Journalism at Rhodes University, established the successful blog Miss Milli B and having recently been appointed as the editor of the arts section of the Mail & Guardian, she has already accomplished so much. I wanted to find out about the ideas and the driving force behind this black woman’s power.  I wanted to know how she defines her place in our “New South Africa.”

    It’s at this country’s contradiction where our conversation takes flight. Where spaces of subduing luxury are a short distance from an energy filled city centre, with stores filled to the brim with cheap Asian goods and low priced vegetables sold on bustling side walks. Milisuthando speaks of how this luxury, such as the restaurant that we found ourselves in, would cater to a demand for leisure, a leisure that is at the very heart of “white life”.

    Milisuthando is not afraid to deal directly with what she considers the crux of our country’s racial challenges in that white privilege continues to exist even though we have a constitution that provides for the equal rights for all her citizens.

    Leisure as the site of our problems 

    She makes mention of how our current day acts of leisure is how the spoils from the conquered are enjoyed. Even now we find colonialism still being justified in such performances of indulging in a colonial past. She gives the example of her recent visit to a restaurant that featured cocktails named after dead English writers, with walls covered in Moroccan themed tiles and cast iron sculptures of a cow riding figure. Such nostalgia seeks to remind us of a time where racial hierarchies are actively enforced. It seeks to symbolically recreate moments of power without making a challenge to the prevailing inequalities.

    It is in this space of leisure that Africa continues to find herself. I make reference to the example of how our continent has become a hot bed for volunteerism where one’s tourist experience is focused on volunteer work.  It is through such “charity” that those from the global north come to gain their humanity by engaging with those deemed destitute and in need of saving.

    Milisuthando identifies the global south as historically being the place where such privileged bodies are able to perpetuate themselves through “naturalist study”. The beginnings’ of anthropological discipline was one where black communities were seen as living in a past and natural state. The knowledge from here would be used to justify a false contrast to western bodies. Those whose studies would never turn this gaze on themselves and question how their ideas would be used to perpetuate a prevailing inequality.  Milisuthando takes her analysis forward discussing how to this day  “we never have the space within our own work to ask ourselves these very same questions.”

    Within her own work she finds herself asking the same hard questions. She loves to work with beautiful things but then asks to what end are these pleasures for?

    Describing herself Milisuthando writes:

    “I believe we are in an era where substance and what comes out of your mind rather than what you are wearing will be more important for the survival of our sanity as a human race. So while fashion and beauty are necessities in urban life, I’m not particularly interested in the seasonal trends of either, but rather fashion and beauty, as well as art, film and literature as mirrors of where we are as a culture.”

    For her the ethics of what we do cannot be ignored.

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    It is in this same blog that the black woman features prominently in her online work. One sees images of beautiful black woman as creators of cultural content. She features Black models making waves on British catwalks, to a post on a modern day Sangoma who tackles the issue of money and love and even a beautifully shot film dealing with sisterhood and friendship. For Milisuthando it becomes important to deal with the issues affecting black life in her work. She has especially taken on this task on her newly acquired platform at the Mail & Guardian.

    For her our work must be one steeped in the ethic. The goal can no loner be one of equality. “What use is equality when we cannot use it to make a positive difference?” Milisuthando calls for the empowerment of a people so that they can liberate themselves, changing the very structures that ensure their repression.

    Our current problems have been very much made by those with power. It is wealthy corporations that destroy the livelihoods of others through their ecologically destructive industries that allow for our economic “development”. Even our current lifestyle trends are steeped in such discourse as it is only the rich who are able to afford the organic non-GMO foods and yet it is through their wealth that such a need for more “safe food” is created. Right now unhealthy processed food is being sold to poor communities at discounted prices, I interjected. She agrees stating how when one needs to eat one must eat, “they have messed up the earth and now only the rich can be healthy.”

    Yet this idea of rich and poor is not the full picture. Milisuthando argues that we still follow the very same system of making money and doing business that the so-called rich are also using. She calls on a need to look outside of the capitalist system that has already disconnected us so much from the environment that now finds itself “discovered” in such leisurely fads as being organic or healthy.

    Milisuthando makes reference to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie by describing our situation as being of one where “we have come full circle.” We seem to be in this pattern of returning to a “healthier” past. It’s this system that reduces who we are so that we find ourselves constantly needing to “re-discover.” She argues against this “going back” as she was never really separated from an environment and nature in the first place.  “I am already here and don’t need to return. I must just be conscious?” Having had to exist in Jo’burg means having to buy into the ides of acting individualistically, of being disconnected and needing to reconnect through materialist consumption.

    Working at the Mail & Guardian

    The Mail & Guardian is still very much a business and Milisuthando in taking up the position there would have to adjust to a commercial medium with its even much larger readership base. Now she would be speaking to an even more diverse crowd but would also need to be able to write about their stories. Milisuthando was more than ready for the task as the newspaper hired her because of the earlier work she produced for her blog. Those very ideas brought her here but now she would have to adapt their message to a different platform.

    So she did her research and went online looking at the content that got the best responses. She found that her most successful pieces were the ones that didn’t rely on jargon. Milisuthando would begin to engage in sort of “self censorship” but not one in which she didn’t want to offend. Her goal would be to find ways in which she could better connect with her readers. She would begin “appealing less to the head and more to the heart.” The focus of her work would be about moving away from the “intellectual talk” that she considers to be very much exclusionary to those who do not have the full command of the English and academic language. “Jargon does not disrupt the space and also serves to perpetuate the oppressive language of the dominant”. Within a white supremacist world we are constantly excluded from knowledge through language and so Milisuthando would look to appealing to our hearts in order to include more people in the discussion.

    Where black people have had their fire extinguished she has had to find new ways to include them but in ways that are not anti-white. Her work is already having an impact and readers are now sending letters, a new thing for the arts section of the newspaper. Her readers are starting to take the arts seriously, no longer relegated the site of leisure but one whose enjoyment was also “consciousness”. It is through a narrative that one begets feelings and where people can start to engage and interrogate ideas. This is her goal as writer for Mail & Guardian to use the narrative to start the much-needed discussions.

    Towards a Consciousness as solution

    Here is where her work draws its power.  It is through her own experiences that she is able to connect to her readers.  Her political end goal becomes one in which you have to shed a self that is based on material possession and holds an individualistic understanding on relationships. One must critically evaluate themselves, finding and identifying new goals that will allow us to function as a black collective in achieving our new found desires. Milisuthando makes reference to an Ubuntu whose sense of shared values is one crucial to understanding a liberation that cannot be achieved alone.

    She further identifies anger as also being vital to the cause in its ability to rouse our political consciousness. It is not enough to burn the paintings. “Yes I can be angry but I, as a writer, am also more.” She is more than just her black anger but also a black body striving for something beyond a place of pain.

    Living in a white supremacist world means “being stripped down to our physical form, robed of our ability to fly.” A black consciousness becomes one where we are forced to engage with such processes beyond our direct control. For her, spiritual mediums are the ones who understand such connection and such a consciousness becomes a form of metaphysical awakening on an intellectual level. Yet such metaphysical and intellectual, should not be seen as distinct as one cannot function without the other.

    It is here that our discussion, in a sense, came to its full circle. It is here Milisuthando’s love of beautiful things would make a deep connection with me. It is amongst the beauty that she can escape the pain and enjoy life. Yet for her experiencing such cannot be without responsibility and has, like this current generation of black creators, taken on the torch to create a beauty that does not come at the expense of another’s power.  It is in this creation of a space where not only black is the beautiful but is also a safe space in which a black beauty can also thrive.

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    [all photographs taken in the Johannesburg Art Gallery]

    The two tapestries featured are The Zulu Kraal, by various Rorke’s Drift Weavers(1973) and The Israelites Crossing the Red Sea by Jesse Dlamini, Miriam Ndebele & Josephina Memela (all of Rorke’s Drift)

    From the Pre-Raphelite room, the painting featured is “St. Elizabeth of Hungary” by James Collinson

  • Jet Life: Dope St. Jude’s global hustle and contribution to black knowledge production

    Monday April 10th saw Dope St. Jude and Kyla Phil, pulling up in Roeland street to scoop me en route to Dope St’s birthday dinner. We sped off towards Cape Town’s suburbs and a sanctified celebration of the life of this artist from Elsies River. Dope St. Jude gracefully glides through identities, wearing concurring crowns of artist and activist whilst embodying such potency it speaks to power and pleasure. An entertainer by nature, but also an educator through the proliferation of a persona that makes people wys about black girl magic and the inequalities of the beautiful and totally bogus racist Mother City.

    With the gift of keeping it real while rapping, Dope St. Jude is currently in Finland with Angel-Ho, performing, and contributing to the conversation about alternative platforms and methodologies for knowledge production on a panel at In-between: Art, Education and Politics in the Post-Welfare state, a week long event hosted in conjunction with Chimurenga and The Pan African Space Station at Checkpoint Helsinki. Her new EP is set to drop in the near future and the album artwork is already out. The images reference archetypes of femininity and Africa, and while contributing to the discourse around representations of black women, they also contribute to the refreshing representations of blackness and Africa coming from African artists. Through using our heritage and beautiful brown skin to tell stories these images enter a pantheon of other artworks rewriting the meaning of blackness a la the Noirwavers who set 2015 alight with beautiful artworks featuring blackness and Africa in regal, opulent sometimes even religious regalia.

    When you are born with dark skin and/or a vagina, your identity becomes something beyond you, potent in its ability to alienate and antagonise. These stereotypes are laid before us, having been produced and reproduced by misogynist white media and patriarchal white capital for centuries. But we are making a future where the truth about blackness, queerness, gender and Africa have representation in all spheres of experience; music, visuals, text, print, photography and so the list must go on until equality is won. It is this knowledge that artists like Dope Saint Jude propagate, and this is why her work and persona is so important. This reflection of the relationship between art and activism, emphasizes the role of creativity in contributing to changing ignorant and conservative perspectives. This is how artists like Dope St Jude are impacting our world, and it is a most wondrous and welcome change.

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  • Joshua Williams – Space, Movement, Memory

    Joshua Williams is a young Cape Town artist who works in painting, photography and sculpture. His focus on space and walls has a subtle, but potent, political relevance to contemporary South Africa. The following conversation with Bubblegum Club is accompanied with an exclusive photo-essay provided by Williams.

    Can you tell us a bit about yourself- how you became an artist, and what creators and experiences have influenced you?

    I have always had an interest in the visual which carried me through my school days and extended to studying at Michaelis School of Fine Art. Art allows me to explore and attempt to understand my surroundings. All my accumulated experiences influenced me to this point of exploration and understanding.

    Creators that influence me would be firstly God, then my parents and my family members and those that came before me. They are my true inspiration. The image and object makers who explore, engage, interrogate and play should be an influence to all of us.

    Your work focuses a lot on texture and detail. What is it about close details of surfaces that captures your imagination?

    In order to answer the question I will provide a brief background of my process. Most of the surfaces I photograph, and the close details, are part of larger surfaces. I either use pre-existing walls as a visual reference or construct my own. I always work large when producing these surfaces.  I find this to be natural way of working with cement as a material.

    Walls themselves encapsulate people within spaces or exclude them. They act as markers of space and power by demarcating a group, a class, a culture. I find myself reproducing them realistically as I experience them. But as I look closer at the surfaces,  particular parts of the surfaces have specific movements embedded in them. It is this movement of the surfaces which captures my imagination, as it eludes to other things embedded within the wall.  Like residues, scars, wounds and traces. The subtle nuances in walls- parts that are smooth, rough, decayed, painted or raw. By extracting them from a larger whole, I convey an abstract impression of my engagement with the surface.

    Spaces evoke different feelings and different experiences for everyone. My interest in the spaces is to do with the memory that is embedded in the surfaces. As we move through spaces we leave a trace behind. When occupying a space there is always evidence of movement in the spaces. If the walls are kept in good condition it says something. And if the walls are not kept it says something.

    Another theme seems to be waste and abandoned spaces. How did you come to be interested in these types of spaces, and what do you think their artistic significance is?

    I find that to be a particular reading of my work, as I have not considered it as specific interest before.   Rather, it’s something that is always there. It is not something which I engage with by choice but much rather am confronted with. These abandoned  spaces exist in the periphery. They have either been abandoned by choice or are not engaged with. For example, District Six. This site has been vacant for some time. Its condition says something about our current time. To me the vacant land itself becomes its own monument for District Six. The memory site of District Six has become a monument of waste and abandonment.

    What is wasted and what is abandoned reveals something about the current condition. As we consume we discard. As we focus on our consumption we neglect the discarded. Something is discarded by choice. It is deemed by the person or by a group of people to be of no use or no value, and therefore becomes abandoned.

    Do you see your visual themes of waste and abandonment as having a wider social or political meaning?

    I think there is social and political meaning in most things. For example, another symptom of our condition is the Rhodes Must Fall movement. As an Arts practitioner, I must engage with the movement.  But this engagement doesn’t mean only focusing on the politics of institutional violence, systemic oppression and marginalised voices. It also means engaging with how events have impacted on art.  And the reality is that art has suffered. This movement was initiated through art. A statue at the University of Cape Town had human faeces thrown at. Already within this dialogue, we are alerted to human waste used as a tool. Subsequently the statue was removed, and has become waste. It was treated with the same regard as it was initially engaged with.

    Fast track to two months ago… as the student movement has progressed Shackville emerged. This protest or demonstration consisted of a shack being erected close to where the statue was removed, in response to a student housing crisis. Shackville was a way to confront the periphery and situate it in the centre of RMF and UCT. Certain events transpired which resulted in the shack being demolished and removed. Paintings were burnt. So it is clear that not only has art itself become wasted and abandoned but monuments, protests and demonstrations were abandoned. My understanding is that of the strategy of the protesters was to use waste as a tactic to abandon monuments. Later protestation and demonstration itself wasted art. While Shackville itself was abandoned through force, violence and criminalization.

    Currently UCT is in the process of cleansing and sanitizing its Arts collection. This is a response to the student movement. The students decided the art was waste and now the committee is in the process of abandoning more art.

    Waste and abandonment are not so much themes as they are realities we currently faced with in the South African context.

    What projects and work do you have planned for the future?

    I am studying towards my Masters at the University of Cape Town. Therefore I will be continuing to engage with ideas of traces, residues, scars,wounds,cleansing, sanitizing of surfaces, walls, spaces, memory, images, objects, textures, details, waste, abandonment and the realities of spaces, memory, demonstrations, protests, institutional systemic and symbolic violence.

    I hope that in future the pre-1994 generation and the post 1994 generation will understand each other. The pre 1994 generation should engage with why my current “colour-blind”, “born-free” and “RMF” generation is destroying art and monuments without simply criminalizing them.

    Ultimately we should understand the role of art, expectations of art and its functions in spaces. As we move further away from 1994 as a marker in space and time we need to understand the present and further re-evaluate what is useful and functional for the current moment.

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  • The Stevenson’s Instagram takeovers; Social media as a tool to subvert traditional art neuroses

    The Stevenson gallery, a contemporary art space in Johannesburg and Cape Town, focusing on both national and international artists, is once again pushing the boundaries of the exhibition format beyond the confines and limitations of the white cube. The first exhibition series within this vein was Ramp at the Gallery in Cape Town, where the old loading-dock ramp of the front entrance (the space had previously been a factory) was utilised by young artists to create site-specific installations. Ramp acted as both a literal and figurative transition space between the gallery and the street outside and saw an interesting and diverse body of work emerge from Nyakallo Maleke, Buhlebezwe Siwani, Mitchell Gilbert Messina and Lady Skollie. 

    The Instagram takeover series extends this spatial interrogation to the digital realm in a way that starts to unravel some of the gatekeeping distinctions between what constitutes ‘gallery-worthy’ art and what doesn’t. Not only does the Instagram format start to consider everyday social media articulations as potentially valuable artistic expressions, but it also raises questions around dissemination and access to art works, particularly important considering South Africa’s current socio-political landscape, where galleries could often be experienced as intimidating and inaccessible spaces.

    A purely instrumental and commodifying logic is also undermined through the use of a format where the ‘art objects’ themselves can easily disperse, circulate and cross-pollinate. The rich body of work that has thus far emerged from the series speaks to the value of loosening some of the constraints and pressures of the traditional exhibition space where reputations and ‘cohesive’ physical bodies of work often need to be firmly established in advance of any opportunities. Importantly, the series sees the artists having direct access to the Stevenson’s account, uploading their content in a completely unmediated way- a turn that subverts some of the neuroses around artistic production where content is often heavily filtered through the eye of a predefined and often institutionally trained ‘expert’.

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    The series began with Fela Gucci’s evocative and intimately personal Tsohle, which is described in the statement as reflecting the diverse influential elements of a complex identity and artistic practice, with Tsohle “being a gospel song that signifies the hope of everything coming together.” The work that emerged from this takeover interrogates the complexities of black queer identity through a body-politics that radically reimagines the possibilities for expressions of honesty and truth, and articulates fluidity as a sacred digital force. This takeover has, in part, opened up room for the inclusion of FAKA (comprised of Fela Gucci and Desire Marea) in the Stevenson’s upcoming group exhibition titled SEX (curated by Lerato Bereng), highlighting the potentialities that are being created for interactions and dialogues between ‘internal’ and ‘external’ exhibition spaces.

    The second body of work to emerge from the takeovers was Tiger Maremela’s F5 (alt.ZA) + other imaginings described by Maremela’s statement as including three murals, “which might provide answers as to what might lie at the end of the rainbow, F5 (alt. ZA) attempts to ‘refresh’ South Africa and provides alternatives to white supremacist capitalist heteronormative imperialist patriarchy in the context of South Africa… Alternatives to hypermasculine and heteronormative masculinity and racist beauty standards are provided.”

    The third artist to have instigated a takeover is Jody Brand, aka Chomma, who’s Drying Tears relates to a politics of sisterhood and radical self-care. Brand states; “We realise the capabilities of our human potential amidst powers which denigrate our existence. We are femme, pro-black, pro-queer and pro-hoe. This work stands in opposition to forces that attempt to silence us and relegate us unworthy”.

    Speaking to the Stevenson’s Stefanie Jason, she stated that something exciting about the series was the democratic way in which artists are selected for participation, as well as the way in which the Stevenson remains open for individuals to self-propose takeover residencies, potentially radically opening up space for innovative engagements which subvert some of the traditional restrictions of art practice in South Africa. Keep an eye on the Stevenson’s website for future Instagram takeovers, with the next participant being art-book designer and graphic artist, Gabrielle Guy.

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  • Battle of the CBDemons; The spiritual-synaesthetic-sound and Afro-anime-tinge of a revolutionary new club culture

    Fuck your false sense of reverence as you snort and swallow for sensation, lapping up the glitter of smashed glass in sweaty rooms. Different artillery is required for these cities where hate can be placed on a heart through the harsh angles of the grind through grimey streets. In a summoning by the Open Time Coven, and as a unit of the tribe Angelboyz Choir (comprised of Bogosi Sekhukhuni, Angel-Ho, Fela Gucci and Desire Marea of FAKA, and Neo Mahlasela of Hlasko) artists Angel-Ho (of NON Worldwide Collective) and Bogosi Sekhukhuni have joined forces to create Battle of the CBDemons, a sonic narrative that churns the metaphysical in an archetypal battle to purge the hostile and desperate infestations of life in the CBD.

    The Battle of the CBDemons discharges cloud-ground lightening to reassemble ancient mythologies with modern technologies, cleansing the way that meaning is crunched between foreign teeth. It bleeds a shield for shallow love, staking a space to reassemble all the parts of self that have been so thoughtlessly dispossessed. It is a synthetic Lebombo Bone burning clean, a fever-dream to blaze through the night at accelerating speed, the 3D printing of a sacred chant. Sounds and samples are manipulated on the edge of a sword, refracting light to a frantic phantasmagoria where the avatars gleam in dirty constellations. There is something of the complicated African orchestral filtered through pixelated pop culture to create a new sonic cosmology, a new technology of healing. Not only does the mix cleanse and create anew the makers, but it also acts as a physically affecting interface for the listener; vibrating Kemetic force to strengthen their engagements with the world.

    Battle of the CBDemons is an answering-back to the vampiric energies of stagnant representations; it kicks Tay AI in the shins and looks the Sakawa Boys straight in the face. It’s a digital, crystalline, plastiglomerate rooted in a genetically-evolved contemporary Africa. This is redefinition of club culture. Listen through. Don’t be embarrassed of the things it touches. This is the love-child of a communion of future sounds.