Tag: blackness

  • Multidisciplinary artist Shikeith presents an arresting vulnerability and honesty

    Multidisciplinary artist Shikeith presents an arresting vulnerability and honesty

    Four years ago Philadelphia-born, multidisciplinary artist Skikeith shared the film #blackmendream, where he presented black men with the question, “when did you discover you were black?”. The directness of this question required the interviewee to give a direct answer. However, it brought to the fore a contemplation on how we perceive ourselves, as well as how and when racial identity and recognition become a bright spotlight in the lives of black men. It also allowed for contemplation around how the people interviewed navigate their blackness and their masculinity, with the people interviewed often expressing that the discovery of their racial identity often came through violence.

    The lived and imagined experiences of black men, particularly black queer men, is a common thread in most of Skikeith’s work. Linked to this is the unpacking of violence against, and reclamation of the black body.

    “I’m really tapping into the idea of conjuring up images of black men who exist together, whether that be supporting one another, crying, joyful, praying, anything that could disrupt perceptions of self. To open up to a new beginning,” Shikeith states in an interview with Dazed.

    His imagery comes across as a snippet of a hazy memory from an early morning dream, bringing out an arresting vulnerability and honesty. His more recent work, such as This was his body / His body finally his also speaks to Skikeith’s desire to present elements of himself and his own journey within his work. “… I have to realise how important it is to showcase my own story in my work, so that it can resonate for other black men – imagining myself in a state of art.”

    To view more of Shikeith’s work visit his website.

     

  • Artist and researcher Salome Asega on multivocality, dissensus and a speculative lens

    Artist and researcher Salome Asega on multivocality, dissensus and a speculative lens

    As an artist and a researcher, Salome Asega‘s practice is a celebration of multivocality and dissensus. The relationship between her practice as an artist, and her roles as a researcher and teacher, is an interconnected one. Each of these aspects inform and filter into one another. Asega explains that this connection comes from their collective ability to offer useful methods for igniting questions and picking through ideas. I interviewed Asega to find out more about her work.

    Could you please share more about your creative and academic background?

    I spent a year after finishing my undergrad degree tinkering with hardware and making interactive visuals for my friends in performance and music. This eventually brought me to a community of artists who were also working with technology in exploratory ways. I did an MFA at Parsons at The New School in Design and Technology, where I’m now a faculty member.

    I also come from a family of science and math people. When my family bought our first computer, my uncle, who was studying computer science at the time, used to mail me floppy discs of games he was working on. I don’t think I understood this as a creative technology practice at the time, but I like to thank him now for jump starting my infatuation with all things digital.

    In your bio you describe your practice as one that “celebrates dissensus and multivocality”. Could you please unpack why this is the foundation of your practice, and how you filter this through in your textual and visual projects?

    So many of my projects involve a collaborative or participatory process, which is grounded in conversations where we are making certain conceptual or design decisions. This very messy, messy process is sometimes rendered invisible when what’s in an exhibition is a final art object. When I say I celebrate multivocality or dissensus/consensus, I’m saying I value the process of working in community and I also acknowledge that it’s not easy.

    Having looked through your ongoing project, POSSESSION and your recent participation in the group exhibition To Break The Ocean, it appears that water is of particular interest to you, specifically the historical and cultural significance of water and its connection to Blackness and the African Diaspora. Could you please share more about your interest in this, and how you unpack this in POSSESSION and To Break The Ocean?

    I grew up in the desert, so I think the water is a natural draw for me. Beyond that, I’m curious about the ways the ocean and water show up in visual representations of time like how the ocean can represent the kalunga line in West African cosmologies. The ocean then becomes the split between cycles of past, present, and future, and also different dimensions– real world, spirit world. There is a speculative lens in much of my work and water presents itself as a material to do this thinking.

    Your participation in the group exhibition To Break The Ocean is with Iyapo Repository. Could you please share more about the idea behind this resource library and how it has evolved since its inception?

    Ayodamola Okunseinde and I started Iyapo Repository in 2016 during a residency with Eyebeam, an organization here in New York. The project has so many entry points for us. We were thinking a lot about the rising number of e-waste sites on the continent and the ways we’ve seen folks repurpose those materials to make something new and beautiful. We were also thinking about the places we show up in mainstream science fiction narratives, and black folks are primarily shown as extras if they’re even shown at all. We were also thinking about access and literacy to digital tools, and how we could leverage our access to certain institutional spaces to bring resources out. Somehow we combed all these questions and concerns together and developed a pop-up resource library and workshop series that asks participants to build future artifacts with us using hardware, virtual reality, and some digital fabrication techniques. It’s been extremely energizing to take up space in speculative futures with other black people.

    Iyapo Repository focuses on physical and digital “artifacts”. Why was it important for you to include both kinds of artefacts? And how have you collated these to ensure their value and meaning to not get stripped away when placed in the context of a collection/archive?

    Our inclusion to have both physical and digital artifacts in the repository was to ensure we were designing for multiple methods of engagement. We can dream up and create artifacts with our participants remotely, but also also in real life. The engagements, conversations, and creative exchanges are what ultimately make up this project. I’m interested in getting folks to speculate and design collectively.

    When we show the artifacts in an exhibition, we include the original manuscript drawings and writing done in the workshop to provide contextual evidence for the final object. These documents are signed by our participants to make sure they are given credit as the archivist who “discovered” the artifact.

    Could you please share more about the Iyapo Repository and how participants become archivists influenced by how they imagine the future? Who participates in these workshops?

    We partner with museums, universities, festivals, community organizations, and after school programs to host us. I’m always thinking about how we can make unlikely partnerships to redistribute resources from one place to another. So if we’re working in a larger institution I want to make sure we’re also partnering with a community organization who can bring in their networks to participate in the project with us and take ownership of Iyapo Repository in that iteration.

    The project Level Up: The Real Harlem Shake is also interesting in its use of video game language and interaction. Please share more about the choice to develop this as a video game? Is this a kind of commentary on cultural appropriation, digital cross-dressing or identity tourism?

    In 2012, DJ Baur came out with a song called “Harlem Shake” that prompted people to make viral videos of them and a group of friends shaking wildly. Soon these videos took the top hit position over videos of the original Harlem Shake meaning you’d have to do some deep internet digging to find the original dance. I worked with curator Ali Rosa-Salas and dancer Chrybaby Cozie to develop a project that could counter this cultural erasure and assert the Harlem Shake as a dance form that is studied, learned, and passed off to others.

    You are also the co-host of speculative talk show Hyperopia: 20/30 Vision. Please share more about the show and how it connects to the other work that you do?

    Hyperopia: 20/30 Vision is a radio show Carl Chen (Lasik) and I (ConVex) started in 2015 at bel-air radio. Derek Schultz (DJ D) and Leila Tamari (LENZ) joined shortly after. The show originally was a way for us to ask experts to speculate the near future of their fields. Each episode, we want to imagine some essential element of a future — alternative economies, reproductive health, sustainable architecture, etc — and the ways technology creates opportunities or challenges towards the visioning. The format changed slightly for us to also have conversations as a team about our anxieties and optimisms around technological development presently. This show is another way think through ideas of futurity collectively.

    What are you working on at the moment?

    I’m currently a Technology Fellow at the Ford Foundation evaluating the arts and cultural strategies through technology lens. I’m spending the summer writing and reading in preparation for new projects this fall.

    Is there anything you have lined up for this year that you would like to share with our readers?

    I have a residency with Pioneer Works in Brooklyn  lined up for this fall. I’m also working with Geng (PTP) to produce a performance for Abrons Art Center at St Augustine’s Church in November. We’re pulling a group of artists together to think through the architectural history of this Church that tells an early history of segregation in New York.

    Photography by Naima Green
  • Amarachi Nwosu – Dismantling Stereotypes and Blurring Racial Lines with Cinema and Photography

    Amarachi Nwosu – Dismantling Stereotypes and Blurring Racial Lines with Cinema and Photography

    Amarachi Nwosu is a Nigerian-American artist currently based in Japan. She creates works within a multitude of mediums which include video, photography and text. With her lens, a visual exploration of contemporary African identity and diversity takes place acting as both a representation and celebration of Blackness. “…If women of colour are not behind the lens then we are less likely to see women of colour cast in front of the lens and only through representation can we truly shape change in the spaces that need it so much.”

    Amarachi creates her work in various locations around the world. Her acute awareness of different energies and cultural representations within different regions of the world has led her to make creative choices in her shooting process that highlight the unique qualities of a specific region. Such decisions are discernible through her choice of colours, location, models and even the team she chooses to work with on a project. The artist believes that this approach to her projects results in a visual representation that possesses several dimensions.

    Traversing between art, fashion and documentary photography a human connection between herself and the people she photographs is imperative to her practice. This connection is cherished by the artist as she believes that in photographing people, she is telling their story as much as she is telling her own.

    With an already established name and client list, Amarachi has created work for adidas Tokyo, Vice Japan, Highsnobiety and her most recent show-stopping credit, Black in TokyoBlack in Tokyo is a short documentary by Amarachi depicting the experiences of five people of colour who have moved to Japan from Eritrea, the United States and Ghana.

    The film explores the challenges of being black in Tokyo while simultaneously taking a closer look at the experiential opportunities that have helped expats of colour build successful businesses, careers and relationships. The documentary forms a part of Melanin Unscripted, a platform Amarachi created to blur racial lines and dismantle stereotypes by revealing complex cultures and identities from around the world.

    Her practice inhibited within the space of fashion takes on a multifaceted approach where Amarachi frequently takes on up to three behind the scenes roles in one project. She often acts as the photographer, creative director and stylist on a shoot, considering every detail of a project instead of just purely focusing on composition.

    Amarachi is a multifaceted creative expressing the lived experiences of contemporary Africans all over the world through her lens. Her work aids in blurring racial lines and dismantling stereotypes through exposing complex identities and cultures all over the world. Amarachi’s work is then a visual manifesto that indicates to her viewer that African identity is not linear or one-sided, and that narratives surrounding Blackness are complex and diverse.

    Watch Black in Tokyo below:

  • Faggotry (Embodied) // activating queer spaces with multidisciplinary artist Elijah Ndoumbé

    Faggotry (Embodied) // activating queer spaces with multidisciplinary artist Elijah Ndoumbé

    Summing up everything that Elijah Ndoumbé encompasses is no easy task. The magnitude of their brilliance is enthralling and their approach is delicately interrogatory and essentially decolonial. Calling Elijah an artist is a fitting label but really Elijah is gifted & accountable to the need of expressing themselves and members of their community through various channels.

    Born to a French father with Cameroonian roots, Elijah’s father was considered métis in the country where Elijah was born and initially racialised, Paris, France. The term métis suggests “racial impurity” due to being part European and part African, Africa being considered inferior. There was no conversation about Elijah’s father’s Blackness. The only time Elijah would indulge in their ancestry would be through the traditional meals their Cameroonian grandmother prepared. Elijah later moved to the West coast of America, where Elijah’s white mother is from.

    PXSSY PALACE ST. GEORG [Munroe and Nadine] (Point n Shoot | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
    Elijah’s ballet classes in suburban America subtly posed questions about their race and gender. Ballet class was filled with slender, white girls with perfectly arched feet and Elijah had a more prominent ass, darker skin and flat feet.

    “The thing about ballet is that it is a form of dance that relies on a particular and biased body type…this experience of art was very fucking gendered and very racialised and I didn’t realise it at the time because of the context of the space that I was raised in…I don’t want to be the only weirdo in the room, I want to feel seen. When you feel desperately isolated and alone because you know something is different about you and there is shame attached to that, like throughout my childhood, there was shame attached to the desire I have and the ways in which it would show up in my life or the ways I would respond.”

    U DON’T EVEN KNOW ME, captures of @zengaking & @ma_tayo (1) from larger series (120mm | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé

    Elijah’s becoming was profoundly jolted during their time at Stanford University where they were “severely politicised.” Studying “Power” and “History” within the context of their bachelors in African & African American Studies and Feminist, Gender & Sexuality Studies intensely informed Elijah about the dynamics of the violent histories that riddle their body, their family’s bodies, and the bodies of members of their community. Subsequently, this questioning of embodiment has nuanced Elijah’s work. “It’s actually quite a decolonial way of thinking – to burst out of the frameworks and to imagine what it looks like for us to build our own while simultaneously infiltrating the ones that exist…I’m a non-binary trans person, who has body dysphoria, also regardless of my complexion, I’m also Black, I’m a person of colour, I’m of African decent; I carry these things in the end. I carry a multitude of things and those things are going to show up in all spaces.”

    Untitled [A Kween, Ascends] (120mm | Cape Town, South Africa | 2017) | Credits: Shot by Thandie Gula-Ndebele and Nazlee Arbee
    Creative Direction and Styling by Elijah Ndoumbé, Nazlee Arbee, and Thandie Gula-Ndebele
    Makeup by Thandie Gula-Ndebele
    Assist by Tandee Mkize
    Initially through the pen, Elijah struggled with this questioning in the form of written pieces that require prolonged simmering in love and care. Elijah was then captivated by expressing themselves through a camera lens and with inspiration and guidance from BBZ London based cultural consultant and video artist, Nadine Davis, Elijah began poetically capturing themselves and members of their community through photography and videography in various personal and global contexts.

    Now based in Cape Town, South Africa, Elijah has captured the emotionally intense experiences of Trans womxn who experience a lot of casual violence, through their work with the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Taskforce (SWEAT) in a video called SISTAAZHOOD: Conversations on Violence. There are also a couple of photoseries’ accessible on Elijah’s website. The prominence of visual work attributes to the attention paid to this creative outlet but there are infinite ways for Elijah to exist.

    Danyele, a muse (120mm | Palo Alto, California, USA | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé

    More recently, Elijah has had the privilege of “doing the work of making space to think”, this time has been an incubation period, in which Elijah has played with other mediums. For example humbly picking up a pen to doodle with some Miles Davis in the background and a “fuck it” mentality. Elijah’s exploration of themselves as an illustrator stems from their desire to be free from operating in fear, especially through a medium that will potentially fuel their other creative expressions. Furthermore, Elijah wishes to deconstruct the notion that only formal training like “art school” certifies one as an “artist” and the labelling of their creation’s as “art”.

    Elijah has also been gravitating to the creative medium they first formally explored, dance. Complimentary to these embodied movements  that resemble freedom and release are Elijah’s well versed music mixes, which could blare through the speakers of events like the Queer Salon. Created by Elijah and facilitated with a Black & Brown Queer DJ duo, Nodiggity, the Queer Salon makes space for Queer, Trans and non-binary Black, Brown and indigenous people of colour to be prioritised through art. While lamenting with me over experiences on dancefloors in Berlin and public restroom lines in Johannesburg, Elijah accentuated their urgency to continue building and facilitating safe and sustainable community spaces.

    Elijah’s current phase of rest has revealed a beauty of the unknown to them and reinforced that despite daily negotiation of their textured identity, their artistry will always be an unyielding, irrefutable and indispensable embodiment of them and theirs.

    Catherine, portrait of (120mm | Palo Alto, California, USA | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
    Express. (Point n Shoot | Cape Town, South Africa | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
    Habibiatch (Point n Shoot | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
    Portrait of the Artist in Their Home Studio (120mm b&w | Cape Town, South Africa | 2018) by Thandie Gula-Ndebele
    Eli Ndoumbé live at Yours Truly (Digital | Cape Town, South Africa | 2018) by Thandie Gula-Ndebele
  • Live from Berlin: FAKA performing Bottoms Revenge and writing love letters to black men

    2016 has been the year of FAKA. The creative duo of Desire Marea and Fela Gucci have outdone themselves and broken cultural ground with every drop and every performance this year. On the 21st of April 2016 they gave an exhilarating live performance that set the Stevenson SEX exhibit alight. While a new video for ISIFUNDO SOKUQALA – sensual with a touch of the supernatural – has them sketching an imprint on the local cultural scene. For queer culture, for trans culture, for bottoms, for women – for everyone who believes we should be able to be ourselves without fearing for our safety in our so called civilised society. Their performances enlighten and expose ignorance and their space within the current conversation around sex and gender is pioneering and so sexy. In consistently immaculate styling and composed, powerful performances they walk the line between provocation and seduction – posing challenges to the heteronormative hegemony and offering healing and inspiration to those brutalised by it. Currently at the Berlin Bienalle performing their highly anticipated piece titled ‘Bottom’s Revenge’. Their humour, vision and power transcend social censorship and reveal that seduction is a feeling, and sex is something society perverts and polices to serve patriarchy and its princes and princesses.

    They took time out of their Bienalle schedules to answer a few questions for us. Read and weep.

    When did you realize your creativity and identity could impact your environment? 

    We realised this when we realised that our own lives were actually conceptual, they were a well executed creative idea that came quite effortlessly from our need to cope with and transcend the social displacement that comes with being black and queer. Our growth as people made us realise that there are more effective ways to navigate the aesthetics, the artefacts, and all the movements that form our identities in ways that might threaten or influence the structural environment we are juxtaposed with on the daily. Seeing how this affects our everyday experience of the world opened us up to very intimate truths about our world and a lot of that informs our practice. We see art as an equally intimate way to communicate (not so) new truths, and it’s the best way to plant new ideas in the minds of people who consume it. Art has the power to influence culture and for us culture is the highest governing power

    What does the future hold for FAKA in SA and beyond? 

    We are releasing our EP Bottoms Revenge very soon. Beyond that our focus will be to create tangible structures that can reflect our ideology as artists, structures that will hopefully be able to support the upcoming legendary children. We have been fortunate to receive multiple platforms and our voice is strengthened by that. Every young black queer artist deserves that but it is not the case and we don’t want them to go as far as we have gone to be heard.

    What message do you have for other men trying to find ways to be loving and sexual outside the pervasive S.African toxic and violent masculinities? 

    Insert Fumbatha May’s “A love letter to the Black Man”.

    This performance comes at a critical time for marginalized people’s internationally, do these events inform your work at all? 

    Yes, and they always will because we exist there too.

    In a country terrorised by violence against the female, the queer, the trans and whoever else doesn’t fit into the missionary mould of god fearing christian or suited up capitalist, FAKA have come to remind us that the human body is for fun, for sex and we should all have the freedom to enjoy it without shame or fear. FAKA!

  • 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.

    MiliB3

    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.

    MiliB2

    [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

  • The girl without a sound: Buhle Ngaba’s call to action for a conscious generation

    Our story begins with a little girl, bright eyed and curious, in search of her place in the world. This is a story whose tale can be found in all of us yet whose journey resonates mostly with those who find themselves denied their place.

    This is the story told in the children’s book by Buhle Ngaba, beautifully titled, The Girl without a Sound Buhle describes herself as a Black female post apartheid storyteller whose exact moment and place is now, the South Africa context. She is an actress who seeks to find new ways to tell stories which for her has mostly been through her theatre background. Yet for her, writing this book could have only made sense using this medium, as this was her way of finding her voice.

    The protagonist loves to tell stories. She starts her journey in search of her voice. She is born special yet finds herself with a golden cocoon, where her voice should have been, unable to make a sound. She finds herself ignored with fewer people looking into her eyes and listening to her stories. It is here that her winged guide appears and introduces her to the stories of little girls that looked just like her who had so much courage. So begins her journey through books of magical places as she search for her voice.

    Buhle started writing this book as a letter to her Aunt, who features prominently in her life, whose birthday she had forgotten. Weaving this story was her action in response to that unfolding moment. She had a message for her Aunt but ended up sharing so much more. She had a story to tell.  Buhle would later post this message on social media using the tag #booksforblackgirls. At first it was called “a girl without a voice” but would later change it, at the instruction of her editor to make it more accessible, to the girl without a sound. This change would mark her move to a more visual representation of her work. The online response was incredible and it was here that she realized that she had actually written a story. She would begin shooting for the images for the book soon after.

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    A story of Language

    Imagery plays such a significant role in this book because of its ability to transcend the written word. In her recent visit to Colombia, Buhle would be reminded of its power in how her non-verbal performance was understood by non-English speakers, as they were able to relate to the injustices of an apartheid South Africa. For her the dialogue in the book would have to be minimal so that the readers would be able to insert themselves into the story.

    She finds that language can be very restrictive and looks for non-verbal ways to communicate. A child must also be able to hear the stories and so the intention was to make them draw the images in their own minds. They must be able to experience the story with the protagonist. The writer does this through the style of magical realism. She worked directly with the photographer, Neo Baepi, in directing the photography used for the book. She specifically wanted a background of a wall where she would be able to cut the illustrations onto the frame. These illustrations would later function as the visual guide for the reader as they follow the footsteps of the protagonist on every page.

    At the start of the story the reader is greeted with the words “for the one’s with moonlight in their skin.” Buhle explains that for her the moon represents the black woman, older and in particular our grandmothers. The image of the feminine is a constant throughout the book. The guide comes as a woman and we follow the journey of the girl. For her the moon represents a state of changing, ever present yet very mysterious. For Buhle Black women follow such characteristics as we too are made up of such extremes.

    As black woman we are elemental, we give birth to life. We are also made up of something strong as it takes so much to bring up children in a world that is anti-black. At the same time we too can be sad and vulnerable to the hardships we face. She felt that this book needed a dedication and this was her call to the reader. It was meant for those who feel such as she felt that these words would speak to their condition as Black woman.

    The story of Magic

    What affected Buhle to writing this book was her experience of going to the shops and finding no books for black children. Her Aunt’s child, who at school was reading Harry potter, would even ask why is it that only Jessica could be Harry and not her?  Buhle wants to tell the stories where black girls can see themselves within the pages.

    She argues that black girls are not expected to be queens and princesses. Yet we also cannot always be strong in response to such pressures. Black children should not have to be “strong” they are meant to be children but find themselves in a hostile space that can rob them of their opportunity for magic.

    Black life is one of violence. It is one where we are constantly reminded that we are deemed valueless in both our lack of representation in the books we read and the cultural content that is not made for us, surviving as a historically marginalized group. It is also one where we are constantly told that we should feel grateful for our current gains even though we live in pain and anger over our continued unjust conditions.

    The story of the little girl becomes one of having to find new stories about ourselves. The little girls reads stories of others who look just like her and have achieved so much even though they themselves have also lost their voices. It is here that she is encouraged to seek out her very own sound within the world. The little girl chases a glimmer in the distance, yet never finds its source. Instead she collects various treasures on her journey. For Buhle the journey is constant. You will never understand it unless you live it, taking with you the various experiences you gather on the way. It is such experiences that also drive her to speaking out declaring that she will no longer be silent in order to make others be more comfortable around her.

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    The story of a Call.

    Amidst the growing political protest with the student movements and calls to decolonize the university seems to permeate the realization that the education system has failed those it was meant to serve. Students no longer find value in the books and theories that speak to the challenges and material realities. There is the call redefine a curriculum that would exclude those from the production of knowledge that is meant to impact.

    Buhle’s book is apart of this story. Where most of the focus is on primary, secondary and tertiary education, she has decided to engage with the age group that easily left out of the discussion. Her book is apart of the movement to re-write the curriculum in the image of the young children it targets.

    Yet the journey in this fiction is not limited to children. Buhle makes the important point that we are all responsible for our own inner child. We must also look after her. Even now as adults the cocoons in our throats tighten up and even we need the tools to start thinking about how we can free our own sound. For her, as an artist, it is her responsibility to not ignore but to be responsive to this violent reality of ours. She wants to create a response that is both honest but also beautiful.

    Through her book she is able to create a world of magic in which one’s voice has been found. The world can be a dark and debilitating to the point where one is almost paralyzed in shock. In reaction to this she wanted to respond to such with hope and strength, a guide to finding the next baby step forward. This book creates a place where we as black girls can feel whole because there has to be a place where we can feel whole. As soon as we realize that such a place is ours then comes the call to action to make that place a reality. We are then called to transform the world.

    In the book it’s the image of the butterfly that escapes from the silenced voice. It functions to represent the transformative nature of being, but such is only possible through a willingness to change. The little girl must first do the work in the world and only then can we make it our own.

    Buhle explains that all the work she does to some extent tries to encourage others to tell their own stories. She runs workshops for children in whom she encourages them to tell their own stories and feels that too many children who, just, like young self, feel that the world constantly ignores them. Buhle argues that we need to let go of such complexes that say that we need to rely on others to do this task for us.

    Her book is available for download so share and answer its call to Action!