Tag: cape town

  • Wildnernessking- Mystical Darkness

    Since the genre first screamed to life from the frozen wastelands of Norway in the early 90s, black metal has accrued a number of stereotypes. There are the associations with church burnings, Satanism, shady political views and misanthropy. More benignly, there is the cartoonish image of ridiculous poseurs, dressed in corpse paint and running around forests. But in reality, some of the most transcendent and powerful contemporary guitar music bears a proudly blackened heart. Take the Faustian anthems of Polish titans Behemoth, who decimated South African clubs on their blasphemous world tour this year or the unabashed romanticism of California’s Deafheaven. The latter draw deeply from shoegaze, indie and post-rock guitar abuse, in which they are joined by artists like Agalloch, Wolves In The Throne Room, Panopticon and Cape Town’s own Wildernessking.

    Since 2012, they have been making  some of the most exciting guitar music to come out of South Africa. While many local rock bands are focused on making twee psychedelic, they are keeping it both fucking brutal and classy. Their series of releases to date include all the blast beats, screaming, solos and lyrics about morbidity and death you could hope for. But EPs like ……and The Night Swept Us Away and The Devil Within highlighted the melodic nuance and conceptual sophistication of Dylan Viljoen, Keenan Nathan Oakes, Jason Jardim and Jesse Navarre Vos.

    The early releases have culminated in their first full length, this year’s Mystical Future. The song pushes its black metal core into directions that are both deeply personal and wildly cosmic. The songs highlight menacing vocals and apocalyptic burst of energy. This dance between melody and cacophony is similar to Godspeed You! Black Emperor at their best. People from outside of South Africa are noticing this powerful band, with sites like Noisey giving them major coverage. From their lair in the sun blasted tip of Africa, Wildnerssking are making music dark enough to envelop the globe.

  • Bubblegum Club mix Vol 7 by K-$

    In her bio she is described as an “internet sensation” we wouldn’t argue with that. K-$ (real name Kalo Canterbury) is a young dj on the rise. We first noticed her for a carefully curated Instagram feed and her very delicious OG-streetstyle looks but its through her sound that she is really starting to make waves. Hot off the release of her mix for NON (featured on Rinse FM) we spoke to K-$ about the exclusive mix she created for us, what she is up to at the moment and the importance of the internet to her as a dj.

     

    Can you tell us a bit about the mix you’ve created for us?

    With this mix, I wanted to create something lekker and bouncy. The songs I chose are all well recognised

    classic funk and disco because they’ve been sampled so many times within more

    contemporary music, especially in hip hop. Paying homage to some of the best bands, groups and

    artists to ever do it back in the day, in a commercially successful sense. Also, each of these songs

    carry that feel-good quality. Don’t tell me you can sit through any of these songs without busting

    out a quick boogie. I also named it “Green Tea Disco” because just like green tea, it’s refreshing.

    Plus I’m always drinking green tea when I make my mixes… Maybe I should start doing that in the

    club when I spin.

     

    What exactly is LIT…and can you tell us a bit about LIT Bassment Ting?

    LIT is a squad of DJs, producers and artists based in Cape Town. Well, we’re actually more like a

    family filled with proper experienced big names like Sumo Jac and Dplanet, to those of us new to

    the game and trying to come up, like me. It’s amazing in the sense that we all learn from each

    other, regardless of our level, so we constantly grow together. We can all hold our own as artists

    and entertainers, but we’re stronger together. We’ve all got each others backs, we all want each

    other to thrive – the support and love is unconditional and the banter is never-ending.

    If I could sum it up, we just have the same idea of what good fun and good music is, and we want

    to share that with whoever is open to it. That’s why we do LIT Bassment Ting. We went from

    throwing a weekly party at Bazinga Bar, to now throwing a monthly party on First Thursdays in the

    basement of House of H on Loop, which has kinda become our headquarters. Our first one was at

    the beginning of October and holy shit, it was LIT. We’re all excited about our second one, taking

    place on the 3rd. We plan to take over Cape Town this Summer. Just watch.

     

    Something exciting seems to be brewing in Cape Town, driven in particular by young

    people of colour and also queer / non binary individuals – why do you think this is?

    There’s a very positive thing happening in Cape Town where people of colour,

    queers and non-binary people are supporting each others art, ideas and movements. This support

    system has almost created a sense of comfortability, safeness and self-acceptance, and because

    of that we’ve become blatantly unapologetic. We don’t just dala what we must, we dala whatever we want,

    however we want, whenever we want to. It’s a gorgeous thing to witness, and an honour to be a part of it.

     

    Why has Joburg never been blessed with a K-$ set?

    I actually played Joburg once back in 2014 at Kitcheners. At the time I basically knew nothing

    about DJing in a technical sense, I just wanted to play some of my favourite songs to a crowd that

    would understand the music too. Things have changed a lot since then and my skills and sound

    have evolved, so I’d love to come up to spin as often as possible now. My pops recently made the

    move to Jozi, meaning I’ll be in the city more and more, and hopefully I’ll play and make

    connections every time I visit. On top of that, Joburg homies have always showed me love whether

    they know me or not, and I know I can bring something refreshing to the table. Holla at me!!!

     

    You truly are an “internet sensation”! How important has the internet been for K-$?

    The internet is everything to me. On a personal level, I taught myself how to play instruments and

    DJ using the internet as my only resource. It opened my mind at a very formative point in my high

    school career and showed me how big the world is. I found many sources of inspiration lurking in

    various corners of the web that influenced my style, the way I think, the way I learn, the shit I like,

    my taste, the way I carry myself. I think because I respected and understood the net when I was

    young, using it as a tool just came naturally. Like my Instagram. That started as pure fun,

    pushing an aesthetic that was true to who I am and no one else, and that persona has just taken

    on a life of its own and I’ve continued to grow with it. I think it reflects in the music I play and the

    way I play it too. The internet really is a wealth of knowledge right at your fingertips, and despite

    the way many assholes abuse it, there’s so much we can gain from it.

  • Bubblegum Club mix Vol 6 by Thor Rixon

    Cape Town based producer Thor Rixon has blessed us with an eclectic mix, filled-to-the-brim with deep melodic gems and  beautifully textured soundscapes, all his own original productions. The mix was originally performed live at Churn Festival where Thor performed alongside other local and international acts pushing the boundaries of electronic music.

    Thor revealed that most of the music that made it on this mix was produced earlier this year when he spent a few months living in Berlin and according to him the rich concentration of great electronic music coming out of Berlin was a huge influence to both his live performance and his production.

    Keep and eye out for Thor Rixon’s upcoming album set to be released in December but for now listen to this exclusive mix and acquaint yourself with the direction his ever expanding sound is taking.

  • Taariq’s got the sauce

    “Be like water my friend”. This is one of Taariq Latiff’s favourite quotes. It also exemplifies the way he has tackled the growth of his Cape Town-based design agency, Chocolate Sauce. The story for Chocolate Sauce began when he started doing freelance work in 2009 during his third year at varsity. Two months into his first job as a POS designer for makeup products he felt like he should be doing something more. He then left to start designing a boutique interior for a branch that was opening up in Johannesburg. Unfortunately the plans for the store fell through, leaving Taariq with his biggest life lesson. Soon after this he began building a luxury leather brand with his friend Chad and his wife Erin, called Research Unit. Although orders grew, Taariq was not content with designing one type of product. He encountered one more major setback, after which he was offered another freelance job at a start up online store. However, it was not long before the feeling of his creativity becoming dormant began to creep in again. “I had an anxiety attack and quit one morning. Sitting in my room I wondered where I’m going to find work from clients. Around lunch that day I got a call for a client looking to start a kids brand,” explains Taariq. The next day he had his first client and a 50% deposit. “That day I bumped into Rushana, my  first freelance gig during campus, and she was looking for a designer. So from there to now… [It’s] quite a rush to be honest considering I’m just a kid from Grassy Park, parents never had much yet still gave as much as possible. Knowing that’s how I was raised, to add value without having anything of monetary value,” Taariq expresses.

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    The name for the agency, Chocolate Sauce, comes from playing with the experience of association. “I wanted to leave a pleasant, gourmet taste in people’s minds…Chocolate sauce is also your base additive when dressing a dessert. It’s ‘simple’ and ‘extra’ all together,” Taariq explains. The agency is known for its meticulously crafted concepts, and aims to provide multi-sensory and functional designs that work for their clients’ needs and desires. Having started off in Cape Town, Chocolate Sauce does work for clients all over South Africa and some projects for international clients. “It’s not just a one man show anymore…Transitions are pretty daunting, but I’m addicted to risks and find myself in a constant state of emotion…Our projects are getting bigger and we get to work a lot more systematically when [a] client hands over various facets of his business for us”. The agency began its journey focusing on industrial design and has since broadened its scope, now working on branding, product design, website development, fashion and interior design. Chocolate Sauce has been involved in development and visual styling for fashion and utility accessories, visuals for a rural water filtration system, a collection of marks and logos that Taariq has crafted over the years, as well as worked on many other projects. Some of these projects include the Skate for Great project which involved coming up with an illustration on a skateboard for a non-profit organization, as well as working on 2BOP‘s AW16 designs by creating illustrations based on the love for 6 Bit games.

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    When asked about the difficulties of starting a design agency in Cape Town as a person of colour, Taariq explains that he tries not to see them but he knows the quality of his work is often judged according to him being a person of colour. He also explains that it has been difficult breaking the mindset of what he feels he should charge and then cutting himself short by not charging enough because of attitudes of clients. Starting and building relations with new clients have also been a lot more difficult for Chocolate Sauce. Despite these challenges, Taariq and his team have an inspiring philosophy behind their work, which is a reflection of Taariq’s meticulous nature. His explanation of their philosophy was simple and to the point; “work to code, you need to follow guidelines, research and be thorough”. Cleaning up and prepping for the next project is key!”. Taariq let us in on the reason for his recent trip to Japan, explaining that this was a childhood dream. However, business was not far from his mind as he is also looking for inspiration and opportunities to set up a branch there.

    “My deepest desire is to create inspiration and eradicate false beliefs and fears of success,” says Taariq in response to how he hopes to have an impact on young people and his broader community. He is trying to get the message across that people can use whatever resources they have available and start immediately. This is reflected in the kind of work that Chocolate Sauce produces in that the work they create is “simple, modular and expandable at any time”.

    His vision for the future of Chocolate Sauce is one which includes a space that houses a design cafe; “a space for prototyping and inspiration that surpasses mediocrity,” Taariq explains. To get hold of the Chocolate Sauce team and to keep up with the kind of work they are doing check out their website as well as their Facebook and Instagram account.

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  • DJ Diloxclusiv’s Dancefloor Distinction

    Lale ilalilale! Wavuka ekseni awazi ulalephi!” For the past two hours, our cluster of festival-goers had supplanted the Wodumo chant over almost every beat that descended from the decks of that Oppikoppi stage. Somewhere amid the heaving hilltop congregation, a whistle punctuated each off-beat, driving the chant forward. The gqom banger, Wololo, had become so infused in the crowd’s party consciousness that we could string together a remix from any tempo and cadence, pleading for our sonic release. The dancefloor rung with anticipation for what felt like an inescapable necessity: for our sound to drop.

    When the minimalist grit of a gqom beat finally aired that night, it felt like deliverance.  Like the genre itself, the audience quickly locked into oscillation between tension and euphoria. A glitchy percussive drive encased the Red Bull stage — unapologetically dance music, unapologetically reverberating elokshini. All of this at a historically-white, historically-rock festival.

    The first minute of that set was enveloped in a sense of urgency, as we clutched at one another’s shoulders, asking, “Who is this?!” Eventually, the DJ took up the waiting microphone: “Uright?” The beat motored forward through the dust. “Hello Oppi! My name is Diloxclusiv. I’m all the way from Cape Town”. The crowd raised hands in recognition. “Does anyone know gqom music?” A chorus of resounding affirmation responded.  “Ok masambe ke! I don’t talk too much”. 

    And so Diloxclusiv (Vuyisa Genu) began his set, spinning a turn-up tapestry of local house, kwaito and gqom. I later learned that he was a dancer. No wonder, since his music had movement as its impetus, commanding the feet into action. Somewhere in the middle of his set, an interjection of Afropop, as Letta Mbulu’s ‘Amakhamandela (Not Yet Uhuru)’ set a choir of voices, and a swinging national flag, to the sky.  A struggle song come to remind us that dancing, particularly in this country, is at-once celebration, protest, mourning, and communion.

    Diloxclusiv, as dancer/DJ/artist, speaks from and for his place, as though there were no alternative.  He grew up in New Crossroads township, Nyanga, and later moved to Hazeldean in Phillippi. Around 2003, Diloxclusiv started playing paid gigs, initially at house parties and later at larger events. Remembering his very first set, he told me: “that was one of the longest sets I’ve ever played. I played from 4pm till 2pm the following day. Back in my area, there weren’t DJs, plus I had no friends with cars. Music was the only thing that kept us moving. I remember one group of ladies dancing to my old-school songs. They kept saying ‘Repeat DJ!’ I repeated because the crowd loved the music I was playing. So we could play a song 10 times before changing it.”

    As a presenter on UCT radio, Diloxclusiv’s popularity soon resulted in him hosting his own show: Kasi Flava, which later became The Blend.   With a growing reputation, he has received bookings at some of the Western Cape’s most popular nightclubs and festivals.  Cape Town “is one of the most difficult cities to play for”, he told me. DJ’s struggle to get support from the media, and from the Department of Arts and Culture. Township events, he went on to say, are particularly under-supported. Oppikoppi had been a long-term dream for Diloxclusiv, and along with Vic Falls Carnival and Black Coffe Block Party, had been among his favourite performances.

    When I asked him about his musical influences, Diloxclusiv described kwaito as his “first love. I still believe kwaito is not dead, just hybernating, soon to come out like a massive butterfly”. Defiantly local in his sonic pallette, he is critical of South African (particularly hip hop) artists that impersenate soundscapes from elsewhere, more appreciative of palpaby local genres like ispaza and motswako. This has been the primary attraction of gqom. “I was one of the first DJs to play gqom in Cape Town”, he said. “The first DJ to play gqom on Vuzu’s Hit Refresh, and the first DJ to play gqom at the 2013 Boiler Room sessions in Amsterdam”.  The moment Dilo dropped gqom on that Oppi stage will undoubtedly also be documented as a historic first.

    Gqom’s raw minimalism succeeds because it is both ostentatious and lacking in pretention. An unapologetic genre. As an artist, Diloxclusiv is very similarly characterised. He is an unabashed advocate for the music that does not, and could not, exist elsewhere.

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  • Simphiwe Ndzube: symbolic threads of reclaimed identity

    Conceptual threads perforate the surface of fabric, textured by intimate histories negotiating a post-colonial experience. The Cape Town based artist, Simphiwe Ndzube, engages with a spectrum of mediums. These materials often include the appropriation of found objects – through which he stitches together a visual narrative, located in the experience of blackness in post-apartheid South Africa. “Articles of clothing and fabric become a skin, bound together by thread and combined with found objects, which both reveal and conceal forms.”

    A dynamic tension between empathy and assault is constructed through the distortion of figures in Ndzube’s work. The underlying violence in the act of cutting, puncturing cloth and pulling threads is countered by assembling the amputated pieces together. He often draws from the, “context of disability and the physical violence of the genocides committed against black bodies both during and after the advent of European Imperialism”

    “The act of stitching is a therapeutic and meditative process, a form of repair, but it also acknowledges the past experiences and wounds that persist and influence me as an artist.” Cultural exchange and an exploration of historical time is made manifest in the work. The presence of both monetary and symbolic capital is articulated through the diasporic movements of the textiles Ndzube acquires. “Africa has become a repository for the second hand clothing companies, in which an uneven exchange of capital gain takes place between the exporters and the locals who buy and sell these clothes.”

    The cloth figures in his work often visually resemble notions of Black dandyism. “The dandy resists conformity to Western stereotypes through a complex subversion and reinterpretation of style and Western modes of dress. I have been looking at sartorial groups like the Swenkas, a group of black dandies that emerged during the grip of apartheid in the quasi-urban settlements of Johannesburg”

    These suave ‘rebel-figures’ undermine projected expectations and limiting classifications through a reclamation of identity – embodying multiple representations within one form. “He is a warrior figure that bears both scars of cultural, social and political imposition, yet despite this, he stands in defiance. He refuses to conform to any social conditions that seek to render him powerless and to hate himself. He is self-defined.”

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  • Submerge: Sculptural Surrealism and the SKEET Aesthetic

    Neoprene, the material of wetsuits, prepares us for submersion. Slipping into neoprene means we are about to sink into an otherworldy place. It’s no wonder then that neoprene has been the signature medium of designer Petro Steyn, the creator of Skeet.  The avante-guarde fashion label includes neoprene bunny masks and surrealist dresses that are both ethereal and gritty in their aesthetic. These are clothes of mysticism, excavating the enchanting alter egoes of their wearers, and showcasing their submerged magic.

    Neoprene so far has become my favourite medium as it is so versatile in form. It has the ability to mould around any shape, keep the form, support it, and to some extent protect it’. The material connotes superhuman shapeshifting, even invincibility. Neoprene’s toughness also resonates with the name, Skeet. It started as a nick-name my sister used to call me. It is an Afrikaans metaphor. It means, ‘Jy is gehart.’ You are strong, tough loved and protected…taking everything in your stride’. 

    Skeet even describes her process as one of submersion — allowing oneself to be engulfed in the creative process.  ‘You have to be flexible in the flow of executing things and not be closed up in a final idea of the thing. Because the only constant thing is change. You have to flow with that idea. Once you flow you realise why and how you’re doing it.’ And as with anyone submerged underwater, sound and speech are secondary for Skeet – she’s an artist that doesn’t talk much. Instead, it’s the underworld aesthetic that she hopes will enchant audiences.

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    Skeet trained at the Haute Couture School of Fashion Design in Cape Town soon after finishing her tertiary education.  ‘The freedom and creativity I experienced kept me happy and content. I grew up with a mother and gran who taught me the basic skills of dressmaking so I had a good understanding of that already’.

    She began by designing simple streetwear — a collecting of hoodie-come-scarves and a range of other items under the label Misfit. Skeet also spent a number of years teaching pattern-making. ‘I loved teaching, and have a 3-month pattern-making course I give on demand since the school I studied/taught at closed in 2008’. Around the same time, she launched the label White Noise. This was when Skeet first started working with neoprene, getting cut-offs from surf shops. She also spent some time designing tracksuits and harem pants. This included a comic-colourful collection of tracksuits styled as monsters and octopuses — fantastical creatures of the submerged.

    Indeed, Skeet has been able to dive in and out of these two, very different, spaces, below and above the surface: from simple streetwear to outlandish couture. Her more avant-garde pieces have featured on the covers of The Lake and La Petite magazines. ‘The cut/shape of a silhouette will be unique to Skeet, either super simple and basic, or crazy weird and sculptural. As you progress you become aware of things that are continuous throughout the journey. I guess this is how your style or uniqueness becomes more defined. Neoprene has been there from the early start. So you can imagine what the new collection will be made of…’

    Skeet’s new project will launch in October this year. Follow $keet on Facebook and on Instagram.

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  • Anthony Smith- Waar brand dit?

    Anthony Smith, founder of South Africa’s most befokte clothing label, 2Bop, has always lived by his own rules and he’s proving that you don’t need to buy into the lily-white-old-boys-club-hierarchy of the traditional Cape Town creative industries in order to level-up. As a kid he’d be skating and shooting hoops and skieting games from the rough Northern areas to the idyllic Summerstrand and Kings Beach while his ‘art’ teacher plotted new drawing formulas for the class to conform to. Even back then he was too organic for graph paper, could dallah pump fakes against the systems of constraint. Smith tells me about growing up in a coloured community in PE and at 15, being a bit insecure moving from a ‘ghetto school’ to a ‘fancy private school’ where “all the kids knew Shakespeare and shit” but how he soon realised that kids were just kids, the only difference was access. So he’d make his own spaces, skating across racial divisions and jamming the arcade games which flourished in the blind spot of apartheid’s gaze.

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    There’s a richness to childhood experiences which we never really realise at the time; how can you properly articulate the victory of discovering Double Dragon 2 in your grandparent’s street when you’d started to expect all the good games to be in the white areas? Or the excitement for other kids being good at the games because it meant seeing all the levels and characters and bosses without spending your own 20 cent pieces? It’s not about some kind of misplaced nostalgia, it’s about formative experiences that remain relevant to 2Bop today. Smith’s brand has never bought into the legacy of inferiority that still remains ‘post-apartheid’, it’s always taken pride in local culture, manufacturing locally and channelling Afrikaaps or coloured club culture through remixed Strictly Rhythm Records aesthetics. But all of this diverse texture is exploded open, utilised in a way that opens up appeal rather than shuts down access, drawing on the value of the lo-fi as a platform for the imagination. You can play just about any game today on an emulator and that’s cool, it doesn’t hack the power of the OGs who know the Juicy lyrics when they see them. Smith’s already two-steps ahead, establishing his own company called Premium MFG and Co., producing for like-minded clients and upcoming brands. He also his eye on eventually going full circle to actually producing video games and is already bringing arcade style home by creating a new game controller prototype.

    For all of his success, Smith’s incredibly humble and expresses immense gratitude for his team and the counter-culture checkpoint at Corner Store in Cape Town. He’s cracked the code and is subverting the structure through the communal and collaborative, bringing on interns, hiring young designers, and creating work with all different kinds; from well-established artists to a 6 year-old kid named Kayden. Smith’s pioneering a new business culture; while you were rushing to take notes, he was utilising the resources to make full colour print-outs for logos of the future. While you were networking with corporates, Smith was realising the value of friends who could hustle with heart and who held skills that didn’t fit into lame-ladder job descriptions. There are other ways that you can do things, power in articulations that don’t conform to narrow definitions of language and 2Bop’s the turnaround jump shot. What company do you keep?

    You can follow 2Bop on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram and get gedruip through purchases here and here

    Editorial: Anthony is in pieces by 2bop, i & i & Patta

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  • Taking back control over the black imagination: In conversation with Mary Sibande

    It’s a special moment when one is given the opportunity to talk with their heroes. I first met Sophie during her exhibition as the main attraction in Mary Sibande’s solo exhibition ‘The Purple shall Govern’ in the Grahamstown National arts festival. Seeing Sophie, a life sized ebony skinned sculpture in Victorian dress, for the first time reminded me of one of my fond childhood memories of playing dress up. Just like Sophie I too would have a blue dress that would be shielded by a white apron. Like the little protagonist of ‘Alice in wonder land’ I wanted to be “pretty”, I wanted to be a lady and just like Sophie I would love to lather myself in layers of petticoats and puffy sleeves. Such, as I recall the memory, would act as a separation between me and my reality. The bigger the “poof” the closer to my own dreams. I would be able to situate myself fully submerged in my imagination.

    Yet it would be through Mary Sibande, the creator of this Sophie character that I would finally be able to engage with her motives for the character of Sophie. So often are we so emerged in our own idealizations that we forget that ideas made home within our minds have their own context from which they sprung. Our interview would be one of a debate about the character of Sophie and Mary’s process of delivering her work.

    Motlatsi Khosi (MK): You “blew up” in 2013 as the Standard Bank Young Artist Award winner (SBYAA) and your images were regularly in public space such as billboards in the Johannesburg CBD featuring your work and the tag line “the purple shall govern”.  And then you went silent. What have you been up to for the last 3 years?  What has your journey been like as an artist moving from working within the private home to public space sensation within the art world and receiving all the international and local recognition?

     Mary Sibande (MS): My prize as the Standard Bank Young Artist Award recipient in 2013 was the culmination of a few years of focused work. The acknowledgement of my work in this way presented the opportunity and challenge of finding other sources of inspiration. I have not had a solo exhibition since 2009, but the intensity has not subsided as I have responded to calls for my work to be shown internationally, mostly in group exhibitions, art fairs and residencies.

    Due to being a recipient of the award my work titled “the Purple Shall Govern” went on a national tour, gracing some of the leading museums in South Africa. Beginning of course at the Grahamstown National Festival, making stops at Iziko National Gallery in Cape Town, Oliewenhuis Museum in Bloemfontein and making its final stop at the Standard Bank Gallery in Johannesburg.

    I was invited to a residency in Michigan University at the Penny Stamps School of Arts. I was also given the opportunity to present a talk in Detroit. During my stay I was able to visit Toledo art museum in Ohio to witness the inauguration of my work at their Collectors dinner.  In the same year, I presented my work in a group exhibition titled ‘My Jo’Burg’ at La Maison Rouge in Paris. The show was an assemblage of work that presented the diverse range of work and modes of visual and cultural productions by South African artists. I was also invited to participate in the prestigious 12th Lyon Biennale in France. As well as Lagos Photo in Nigeria to exhibit photographic prints from my Sophie series.

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    MK: Your work has led you across continents and you have lead it forward.  It has evolved from a particular context and history yet you yourself are growing in both your skills and ideas.  The travels to unfamiliar places must have offered new contexts to influence your work. How did they influence your work? 

    As the show progressed I had to re-curate it according to space and context, this meant that elements of the show were added on and taken at different stages.   My visit to La Maison Rouge coincided with my residency at the Musée d’Art Contemporain du Val-de-Marne (MAC VAL Museum) also in Paris. This was an incredibly rich residency where I conceptualized and made work using the hosts of resources made available to me there. I worked with talented textile and Fashion Students to create the work. I worked with a seamstress who was able to translate my ideas even though our different languages would be an obstacle to our work. I was assigned a foundry that was able to make my fiberglass figure. I eventually constructed an installation piece in one of the spaces in the museum and was met with great approval. The museum also commissioned some of the previous body of works to be made into billboard posters, making the little town of Vitry-Sur-Seine (outside of Paris) into a giant ‘Sophie’ gallery.

    The body of work ‘The Purple Shall Govern’ has been seen in a few manifestations. The body of work seems to build its own momentum as it seems to attract the attention of curators from leading museums. One such invitation came from the Swedish sculpture park called ‘Wanas’. This was an exciting proposition for me as I was asked to create work that would be installed in a forest. The works durability had to be taken in consideration and so the installation was made entirely of fiberglass sculpture. It was here that my visual language would be thoroughly tested.

    I have also participated in the Winter Sculpture Show entitled ‘A Place in Time’ at Nirox in Johannesburg, responding to an annual call for artists at their exhibition space. The commission made it possible for me to create a four meter steel sculpture titled the “Mechanism”, the work was a larger than life presser foot and needle of a sewing machine. The work was paying homage to one of my greatest tools that I use to make my work.

    MK: Who is your character Sophie that features so prominently in your work? She has your face yet her image speaks to the South African story of woman, of black lives and a stolen collective humanity. 

    MS: Sophie is an ambiguous hybridized figure from my imagination. She is also supplemented by family histories or stories from my matriarchal lineage. To begin with, her naming is derived from the process of naming black women by their employers who considered their ‘given names’ too difficult to pronounce. This is one of many reasons for why I gave her that name.

    I considered that naming is equally a process of de-historicizing, removing, obliterating, and or defacing and individual. I regard this being a violent process. My Great Grandmother was named “Fanedi” at birth. This tongue twister of a name was removed from her birth certificate and she would then be referred to by the Christian name ‘Elsie’.

    The other source that Sophie stems from is the fiction that furnishes dreams or aspirations of this matriarchal lineage. I attempted to take the place of each woman and project what may be available to them as ways of escaping servitude. The fiction is informed by both my ideas and reflections given to me by these women.

    Sophie is the embodiment of the maid, the ubiquitous domesticated body described by W.E.B Du Bois in the book ‘The Souls of Black Folk’ who served as a warning within itself and the context that nourishes these personal/political but omnipresent battles. Sophie is me, my mother, my grandmother and great grandmother working to re-engineer our history.

    MK: I personally see two concepts in your Sophie character. The being of a woman in domestic garb reimagined in Victorian dress. Her agency, her dreams, a corporealized visualization in statuesque beauty. A black body one step closer to her mistress. Her story reminds me of Fanon’s Black skin white mask chapter ‘The Woman of Color and the White Man’ where for the character of Capecia her ascension into white society could be achieved through a white husband.  For the character of Sophie it is being attained through clothing as a means of getting closer to white society. Both characters could be unfairly judged as suffering from an inferiority complex but I would argue that both show the contradictions of agency in what it means to be a black woman under a colonial maze. 

    MS: Sophie’s aspirations do not lie in wanting to be anything (i.e. white woman) other than what she is. She is a black woman and a mother. Sophie’s desires are located in an elsewhere space or dream space, the material objects of her desires are illusive and can only remain as dream objects. Closing her eyes is the only way to concretize them. Perhaps her desires can be described as ‘envious’, an adjective which is committed to attaining freedom in response to a context wherein freedom is denied materially. The dresses hybridize a different identity by forging the blue fabric that usually makes workers overalls with the suggested form of a Victorian dress. With this combination an alternative maid’s uniform is created, and symbolically attempting to transcend beyond the dichotomy set up by the racial ideology of the colonial and apartheid gaze. The women in my family have not responded to describing themselves as inferior, but present to me the possibility of multiplicity. Sophie attempts to disempower that constructed dichotomy.

    MK: The second Sophie is woman overwhelmed by her once emancipatory garb. What was once Victorian luster depicted by the previous Sophie has transformed itself into malignant colonial nightmare? She is overwhelmed. Her face now overshadowed, her features fighting to make themselves seen or has she just give up to that fact that she will forever be locked in her own materiality. Does this work serve as a warning to choose our tools well lest they end up oppressing our own selves? 

    MS: With the body of work ‘The Purple shall Govern’, I push and strive towards an abstract space of emotions. I engage with contemporary fears and desires referencing as a starting point a historical event. The Purple shall govern was a slogan coined by the people in 1989 after they had been sprayed by the apartheid police, who laced their water cannons with purple dye to identify them after the teargas, gun smoke and dust had settled.  This opens up ideas that are less representational and more abstract. The work engages with anger, violent reactions and a response to the bewildering apartheid and colonial after taste.

    Mary_SIbande Bubblegum Club Interview

    MK: I am also seeing two major themes in your work, domestic work and Victorian aspirations. Two opposing worlds which for South Africa has a major significance especially in relation to what it means to be both female and situated within the (continued) Apartheid.  Within such a white supremacist space where Victorian dress still has major symbolism to those who would still revere a colonial past. The Victorian dress crudely representing white woman and the domestic dress crudely representing the black woman. In your works do you see these two words as cohabitating under the white supremacist masculine with Sophie being able to perform such heroisms as in your work depicting her on a life size horse or with arms flayed with staffing “putting a spell on the you”. Do you see the relationship as one that is toxic with one feeding on the other or is the story not as simple as “black and white”. 

    I find inspiration in women who work hard, juggling between being objects of servitude and being women. I find there is little room left to celebrate them and Sophie’s complexities become an aperture to contrast, contradict and challenge a mono-narrative. I recently listened to Chimanmanda Ngozi Adichie issue a warning which she called ‘the danger of the single story’, what I found valuable about this is that in navigating through their lives these women had agency and they expressed it outside their context of being exploited and used. They raised kids, had husbands and lived.

    MK: Do South Africans who engage with your work respond to it differently to your viewers abroad?  Has your work, instead, taken on a common understanding in how it has been received? One of the biggest contradictions can stem from the artists intention which can act in contradiction with how their audiences read their work. Are artist ethically responsible for work that speaks to their viewer, if so, does this mean that they have to carefully curate their work to suite their viewers? 

    MS: I find that the open-endedness of art allows viewers to engage with the work from any direction. The audience comes to the work with baggage and the combination of that visual and sensory experience can be fruitful. I do not try to fit the work to cater for an audience for I believe that the processes of making have their own integrity. The audiences have not determined what I make.

    I have been on various residencies and with each one I have found suitable shifts in my work; the contexts have nurtured experimentation which I have welcomed. What has been interesting is the universal image of the black female which tends to be based on stereotypes, but with these images there are slight shifts and difference. I made a work titled ‘a conversation with Madame C.J Walker’, wherein I found an overlap of her story with my mother’s. I had been on a residency in New York during Black History Month in the US.  Ms. Walker had found her wealth after slavery by making hair straightening cream. The concoction made her the first black female millionaire in the 1920’s. Although my mother is not a millionaire, she worked in a hair salon as a teenager which encouraged her to open up various small businesses when she left for Johannesburg. Their entrepreneurial ventures became the door to actualizing a freedom.

    There is a universal relating to the work as the institutions of apartheid, colonialism or slavery where centered on limiting the black female body in all the possible forms. The work often opens imaginative possibilities of how to think of this body.

    MK: My understanding of Sophie and what she represents would often be in conflict with Mary’s understandings but such, I ask the reader, should not be shied away from but rather fully engaged with. My discussion with Mary reflects the various interpretations on what it means to experience art, experience blackness as art and also the image of black in art.  Such difference represented the diversity in what it means to engage with black thought and those who inspire its ideas.

    Keep up to date with Mary’s work through her Instagram. You can also follow her on Facebook.

    Editorial image credits

    Photography: Brett Rubin

    Styling: Jamal Nxedlana

    Hair & Make up: Orli Meiri

    Image 1:

    Mary wears a gillet by Black Coffee, accessories from The Source and a Khanga head wrap.

    Image 2:

    Mary wears dress by Black Coffee, headpiece by Qba Nkosi, boots & accessories from The Source.

     

  • BubbleKoppe – Curating Digital Archives

    Digital space is becoming an ever expanding archive. These platforms operate as constructed mechanisms of power that begin to shape collective memory and identity.  BubbleKoppe engages in this process. Founder, Justin Ronne, says “I consider myself somewhat of a curator of Air Max culture and BubbleKoppe is my museum.” A scrolling display of organic forms showcases the ‘Golden Era’ of sneakerdom. The kaleidoscopic colour palette ranging from neutral tones to neon designs is visually unified by an iconic ‘bubble’ heel. The online exhibit would make any sneaker devotee salivate.

    BubbleKoppe merges an affinity for Nike Air Max cushioning technology with a unique Cape Town flavour. “There were people in Cape Town that were always into and collected Air Max sneakers, I just gave us a name.” The project began as a Facebook group in 2011, but now boasts an impressive network of 10 000 followers on Instagram. “Your sneakers say a lot about you. Throughout the decades certain sneakers have identified with a certain audience or certain place. Cape Town is Bubble City no doubt about that, we wear more technical sneakers down here and are more into basketball footwear than other parts of the country.”

    Justin Ronne

    Ronne’s interest in sneakers began two decades ago but he began taking the venture more seriously in 2008. His collection ranges from 200 pairs of sneakers – of which in excess of 60 pairs are Air Max sneakers. “I remember geeking out at other kid’s Air bubbles. I used to dream of owning certain pairs – the technology really amazed me and was unlike anything else I had seen before. I got my first pair of Air Max shoes in 1996 (Nike Air Ripped) after begging my parents for a couple of years.”

    His curatorial strategy is centered around finding and displaying rare Air Max models. “I wanted to find and post all the obscure forgotten about Air Max models, the rarely seen and unpopular Air Max’s that I thought were often much better. They deserved to be known by more people, especially sneaker collectors throughout the world.” Five years later he is still stumbling across Air Max’s that he has never seen before.

    BubbleKoppe uses the internet and Instagram as the primary source of research. “Certain things will jump out at me and I will know what to use…I do try to post different images focusing on the different types of Air cushioning technology from Nike. Air Max, Air Zoom & Air Tuned most frequently.” The project engages with a global audience. Name the Bubble? is a strategy in which knowledge within the network of BubbleKoppe is drawn upon to contribute to the growing archive of information and surrounding discourse. The virtual space is also acts as digital meeting place in which individuals can share and contribute to the production of culture.

    Nike Air Total Max Uptempo %22Neon%22

  • Big Hate Permanent Vacation in Hell Mixtape vol 1 – Seasons in the Abyss

    The frustrations and brutalities of urban life have often lead artists and musicians to depict cities as Hell. For Percy Shelly, smoky London was the abyss while a century later Bertolt Brecht saw it in sunny Los Angeles.  More recently, Hell has been central to Hip Hop. In the 90’s Mobb Deep unleashed Hell on Earth while Tricky offered it around the corner.   In 2014 Vince Staples confidently predicted ‘I’m probably fitting to go to hell anyway’.  And now Cape Town based producer Big Hate is taking us on a Permanent Vacation in Hell.

    This ambitious mixtape is structured like a concept album based around a cynical trip through CPT, a city of ‘broken dreams and summer nightmares’.  Its intention from the cover art onwards is to mock pretension and excess.  It starts with a fake news announcement at the airport welcoming the listener to a bullshit trip through a ‘raggedy ass motherfucker’ of a city. As the ambient track swells, a vocal sample from Abel Ferreira’s crime epic King of New York is introduced.  The lines of dialogue between Lauren Fishburne and Christopher Walken reappear as a distorted leitmotif throughout the project-:

    Jump:  Yo, congratulations, Frank. Congratulations, man. Them Columbian motherfuckers, they took permanent vacation in hell, if you know what I mean.

    Frank White: Well, I must’ve been away too long because my feelings are dead. I feel no remorse.

    The mixtape combines hyper-specific local references (City Bowl Sis Khetiwe, 1820 Settlers Bandwagon ) with music that draws inspiration from hip hop, kwaito and 90’s RnB. Smoky  samples from Old Dirty Bastard and Ginuwine float through the murk. The satirical aspects of the work come through clearly on tracks like the acidly titled Trust Fund Yacht House Boyz.  But at other points, it seems like Big Hate is really just revelling in being offensive for its own sake. The final track is an outrageous ‘tribute’ to musician Taliep Petersen, whose own wife plotted to have him murdered. On one level, I enjoyed the complete absurdity of this mocking song, but on the other it seems in terrible taste. Nevertheless, despite a certain puerility in lyrics, the EP is an enjoyably atmospheric trip through Hell.

  • Unathi Mkonto: Architect of modern masculinity // Boys of South Africa

    Conceptions of the masculine form are in a constant state of flux. Unathi Mkonto captures a redefined kaleidoscopic facet in his strikingly subtle images. Boys of South Africa emerged in January last year out of a desire to document the overlapping social and physical spheres around him. “I don’t believe masculinity can be strictly defined. I seek to express beauty, rejection and failure. I am better because I have failed myself.”

    The online magazine merges multi-disciplinary skills rooted in architecture and fashion. Many of the photographs depict urban landscapes foregrounded by half-clad male figures. “In my work I trying to humanize the historically, apartheid-inspired built environment which forms [the] backdrop of the photograph. I am working backwards [from] fashion. Fashion is about putting on clothes and here the clothes are discarded away from the body”

    His black and white images are imbued with a quiet nostalgia – Mkonto describes the aesthetic as “uneventful and timeless”. Although the title, Boys of South Africa, ties the photographs to a specific spatio-temporal context. Through the work, he represents a kind of identity “that is very specific to South Africa. It has to do with minds and the emotions.”

    R1-09612-0012

    This overarching sense of ease, coupled with an undercurrent of socio-political tension underpins the dynamic images. “I am genuinely proud of my work and to share my life with the rest of the world. I respect the people I shoot and they trust me, trust is priceless.”

    The first volume of Boys of South Africa included line drawings. Since then, Mkonto has extended the project into the realm of photography. “The vulnerability that one can expose in photographic film” prompted the transition. Although in his personal practice he continues to draw and render preliminary studies for sculptural works. Mkonto hopes that in the future Boys of South Africa will exist in a tangible form. “The idea of printing a special edition is exciting.” He also sees potential in challenging advertisers and create work in print, video or film.

    Boys Of South Africa