#ed11
28 Oct 2016
ja.
Wairimũ Mũrĩithi disappearing women, or, how i got my scars
Mandisa Buthelezi Crossing borders and reclaiming photography
Valentino Zondi 2ECOnd Encounters with CXLXVR
Mandisa B crossing borders and
Words by Niamh Photography by Shirin Mota
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Buthelezi:
reclaiming photography
h Walsh-Vorster ala and Mandisa Buthelezi
The history of South African documentary photography is one with a past over-saturated from the western male perspective, and historically photography has had a gross colonial and whitewashed background. However, in the past two decades we hear more about the women in photography, locally and on a global scale. More recently names like Zanele Muholi and Neo Ntsoma have broken new ground and become internationally recognized names by art connoisseurs and novices alike. From working in the construction industry to running her own media business, an Umlazi raised 25 year old has flown her way into galleries across provinces and across international borders. Mandisa Buthelezi’s photography career is helping re-imagine African-ness in photography and gives new hope for young South African artists to create their own opportunities. 5
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PROFILE
The first time we meet Buthelezi is to raise funds for her residency in France for Studio Vortex. Nonchalantly seated at a table in the usually buzzing Badger’s restaurant, we waited for all four women photographers to assemble before their walk into the heart of Durban city and later, for a quick treat at The Little Gujarat. The walk was hosted by The Durban Centre for Photography, a grassroots organisation that has given photographers like Mandisa a moment of stillness to learn, then grow and come into their own as photographers. Her first experience as an exhibited photographer, Ngale: Seeing Beyond, was with the DCP. We walk, talk and make photographs on this trip around the city. Reflecting on the things learnt at DCP, Buthelezi explains the theory she now tries to put into practice: “Reclaiming African visuals can only be done once you as a photographer realise the role and responsibility you have in documenting authentically without toying with the dignity of your subject.” With workshops headed by director Peter Mckenzie – a photographer known for his work at Afrapix, Drum magazine, and his Pan-Africanist view on decolonising the photographic medium – the DCP is well aligned with Buthelezi’s views.
“When it comes to the African narrative, especially in history, we have had the African story being told by non-Africans in a nonAfrican, degrading way.”
“When it comes to the African narrative, especially in history, we have had the African story being told by non-Africans in a non-African, degrading way,” she explains.
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PROFILE
Her latest body of work Izithunzi Zami, which she created during her two-week residency in Aixen-Provence, France, reflects this understanding. Buthelezi uses herself as the focus, documenting her own experiences without subjecting herself to any white, male gaze. “We as Africans must claim our identity and use the camera to derive our own narratives that speak the restoration of Africanism and its significance,” says Buthelezi.
“The world has, however, gone out of its way to make women believe they are not good enough, but it would never have lasted too long,” she adds. Her work speaks directly to issues of representation, especially as a black woman, photographing herself to tell her own story. Her latest self-portrait series, which is an intimate, soft and minimalist representation of Buthelezi’s reconnection with identity, has a classical photography feel, which resonates with any viewer. The
Her agency and the power of her chosen medium also helped shut down manifestations of patriarchal dominance in the field. “The practice belongs to whoever claims and owns it,” she says.
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images are powerful as they reveal a
sense of vulnerability, one that reflects the literal feeling of exposure Buthelezi experiences while in a foreign country. But it also showcases a universal reality – one of self-discovery. “The quality of the work women produce is in itself a testimony that women are here, women are owning the space and women have no intentions to leave. Women should photograph and not allow any form of intimidation to overpower them.”
Seeing value in what the medium can do is important, especially in a dystopian ‘post-apartheid’ South Africa where violent scenes play out on campuses, in service delivery shutdowns and vitriolic social media tirades. Photography, as Buthelezi sees it, can be used in these moments “to create dialogue, raise questions and to challenge systems put in place.” Photography has also been a tool for self-reflection and interrogation for Buthelezi. “It has challenged my thinking and has opened me up to explore the fullness of life, within and outside the frame. We are not in a static world.”
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PROFILE
For Buthelezi, no part of her journey has come easily. Making the jump from a corporate space to the mainstream art world and running her own company, MEL media has been a gamble. To keep her momentum going, Buthelezi surrounds herself with people who inspire and engage. Music too, has been a source of inspiration and motivation for the artist. Buthelezi has a solid relationship with The Rainbow, Pinetown’s prized jazz and music restaurant, where she has photographed and listened to some of the best African artists around.
“I am so very honored to be part of this and to be surrounded by such greatness.
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“I find most of my inspiration from musicians. Jazz musicians, but mostly African music. I am driven and most moved by language. I find the fusion between strong lyrics and music influences and contributes to my subject matter, which mainly revolve around culture and spirituality.” Currently Buthelezi’s work is being exhibited in China next to the legendary likes of Gisèle Wulfsohn, Neo Ntsoma and more contemporary names like Lauren Mulligan and Zanele Muholi.
“I still cannot believe it. These are great beings, giants in the field of photography and I am so very honored to be part of this and to be surrounded by such greatness. It has to be uphill from here with those kind of energies around my work,” remarks Buthelezi. Looking ahead, the artist is thinking of trying her hand at film, and continuing her growth in Johannesburg. True to her style, her future isn’t quite set in stone, but you can be sure it’ll be a bright one.
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Onit Nelav:
A Time Traveler lost in thought 12
PHOTOGRAPHY
by Valentino Zondi
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We live our lives trying to make sense of it all, our reality seems to forget about all that is colourful, artistic and creative. Maybe it’s a misconception that we’ve adopted through time, maybe it the dying out of our reality, maybe it’s just that we fail to see the world in grey and our inner visible selves in colours.
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PHOTOGRAPHY
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Our biggest mistake as artists and creatives is that we share work just to be validated when we should be sharing for the sake of developing our industry via the sharing of ideas. 15
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PHOTOGRAPHY
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Makoti kapa lefetwa? (For the unapologetic mkhwekazi) Words and photographs by Tshepiso Mabula
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PHOTOGRAPHY
‘Otlo nyalwa ke mang?’ is the question every young black girl is bound to answer at some point in her life. It is the reassurance to one’s parents that their child is not a lefetwa (one who missed out on marriage). In many African homes the institution of marriage is one that is considered to be sacred, and the most joyous time in a girl child’s life is the day of her traditional wedding. On that day the humble makoti dances timidly next to her new husband while being careful not to show too much personality, lest her in-laws judge her good standing as a wife. The perfect makoti is 22
said to be one who is passive, one who waits silently for her next instruction from ubaba’sekhaya (the man of the household). If a young girl is perceived to be too forward, educated or opinionated, or if she is seen to be doing things that are not ladylike (smoking, drinking) or if she ‘knows too much’, she is considered unsuitable for marriage. This series seeks to question the idea of a perfect makoti in black communities, and whether patriarchy is perpetuated by traditional laws in a marriage. Using a series of studio portraits this series questions whether women still have power over how they are perceived and whether they have power in their own households. 23
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PHOTOGRAPHY
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ART
Marijuana: a chronograph
Words and photographs by Charles Harry Mackenzie
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The following is an excerpt from a visual essay on marijuana from an experimental series of essays illustrating the varying effects of ‘drugs’. The sole purpose of my ‘chronographs’, as I call these essays, is to capture and adequately describe drug experiences by novel, currently unexplored means. Basically, an encyclopaedia of sorts that is not strictly ‘objective’, yet is still, in the first-hand sense of the word, ‘empirical’. My chronographs are created in such a way as to transcend the traditional limitations and complications of language, balancing my words with art to create a more dynamic, malleable and subjective language than is traditionally allowed for – in words alone. For example, my use of the term ‘subjectivity’ here is meant to portray, not the fact that these essays are strictly interpretive, but rather that they have meaning only – and I cannot stress this enough – in the very moments that they are absorbed by the eyes and the minds of the reader (read: subject). The ideas shared in my chronographs are like simulated experiences transcribed onto L.P discs; they only make a sound when you let the needle of your mind fit into its grooves. In other words, my chronographs are successful only if the effects that they portray are perceptible to the reader – as if they experienced, or even dreamed them – first hand. You can find this outcome in the first essay of the series, MDMA: a chronograph. Marijuana: A chronograph is not yet complete, but you can see photographs from the forthcoming essay below. All photos taken here have only been superficially processed. All double exposures were taken “as is” — in camera — during the experience. It is important to note this because I hold these photos to be evidently representational of the marijuana experience. Therefore, the fact that they have not been significantly edited is important — these are photographs that were quite literally “captured in the moment”.
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ART
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ILLUSTRATION
Thato Simelane 2
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I grew up with a desire to be an astronaut, but when I realised that not all dreams can be practically pursued, I picked up a pencil and thought ‘I’d rather draw stars and imagine myself in the cosmos.’
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ILLUSTRATION
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ILLUSTRATION
Snalo Ngcaba
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I’m inspired by a combination of things, my work has no constraints really, I see something I like and I draw it. I’ll enliven it with patterns that come to my head, different colours, or odd geometric shapes. it’s a mental process I go through every time, constantly challenging myself to see how “next level” I can take things.
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ILLUSTRATION
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ILLUSTRATION
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illustrations by
Andile Khuzwayo
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ILLUSTRATION
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For me it’s all about the stories and the interpretation of the artwork. I sometimes create work and show it to different people just to hear their response and it’s amazing how different people see different things from something that looks so simple to me. I wanna tell South African tales visually. I noticed that once you capture the eye then it becomes easier for the person to relate. I tell people that my work is inspired by my heritage and life experiences, but sometimes I create to send a message across to everyone. We as South Africans can be whatever we want to be if we set our minds to it.
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ILLUSTRATION
Kgodisho “Zito” Mowa
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I get inspired by nature, life in the city, and life in the village. Growing up in Rural Limpopo has played a huge role in how I see things. In the village we are not exposed to most of the modern technology or latest clothes or gadgets, so it makes my work unique and that helps me to not sink in the uniform that most creatives wear.
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disappearing women, or, how i got my scars words by Wairimũ Mũrĩithi photography by Jamie Dimitra Ashton
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SHORT STORY
several years ago, i got into a matatu and a man touched my thigh, once, twice, a million times over a million lifetimes. i told him to stop. the man next to him told me it was because my skirt was too short. so i began to wear longer skirts. two days after that, a man at Odeon reached out and squeezed my breasts between his long fingers the way we were taught to look for ripe tomatoes. i told him to stop. he told me my shirt was cut too low for him to resist. i began to wear shirts with a higher neckline. a few days after that, a man at work ran his hand over my ass and smiled at me like we were part of a big secret together. i told him to stop. he said my trousers hugged me like only he would like to, that he was only being appreciative and if i didn’t want him to be, i shouldn’t wear such tight clothes. my pants got baggier, my dresses got looser. one weekend, my uncles sat in a circle and pointed out the things they appreciated about my body. i told them – with a glare, be49
SHORT STORY
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cause i dared not with my mouth – to stop. they told me that as long as i remained single, i still belonged to them. i went and found myself a man to marry. several months later, my husband hit me again because [as if it matters] later, he apologised (again), and while i was busy forgiving him (again), he slipped it in that we should be growing our family. we had a daughter together. the ghosts that lived in my hospital room died again, of heartbreak, when they heard me weep. at a party three weeks ago, someone in the crowd caressed my fully covered breasts and disappeared before i could tell him to stop, maybe because they had gotten bigger, or because [who cares? i care i care i care] so i went home and chopped off my boobs and bled for two million centuries. my shirts, my carefully chosen shirts, no longer fit me. last weekend, my husband stumbled into our bed piss-drunk and grabbed my ass. i told him to stop, but he said my butt belonged to him and then i told him it did not and then he hit me hard across the head and i think i remember our daughter crying and then i woke up and felt the crater he had dug between my legs, deep, deep into the beginning of the world. he told me that’s what love felt like sometimes; he had not noticed the holes in my chest because you know, he’s never really been a boob man. the next morning i sliced off my ass, layer by layer of self, and i bled some more. my pants, those pants, no longer fit me. on tuesday, one of the men at the construction site down the street slapped at my hips and cried out to his friends to look at this woman with a flat chest and a flat butt, but hips that compensated for all lack. i told him i did not want his hands on me. he asked me if i thought he cared what i wanted. 51
i turned around and hobbled back home and carved and carved and carved until my hips lay on the floor. still i had blood, still i bled, this is no longer my blood. yesterday morning, i drove to the doctor’s office to get something for the pain. he touched me. he touched me again. he kept touching me. he did not stop touching me. he told me he had always liked skinny women [what?] i drove home, sat on the bathroom floor and cut and bled and cut and bled and cut and bled until i disappeared. on my way to elsewhere, i hovered over my daughter’s school and watched in horror as her teacher slid his hands into her panties, worked his fingers inside her, held her mouth shut until he was finished. my daughter—no breasts, a little girl’s hips, skinny thighs, a flat butt— went home and took a knife and scraped at where it hurt. she bled (her blood) and bled (my blood) and bled (past bloods) and bled (future bloods) and bled (so much blood) until it stopped hurting. she floated up to me and held my hand. and asked me in a whisper, can they reach us here?
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SHORT STORY
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SHORT STORY
THE STACCATO STRUGGLE by Yasthiel Devraj
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POETRY
photography by Desmond Bowles 55
POETRY
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BOOKS
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As South African journalists, the stories that we submitted to international newspapers encompassed the panoply of Western editorial obsessions: AIDS, aid programmes, conflict, corruption, conservation… Our local media was fixated on the looming succession battle within the ruling African National Congress, and thus back on the parochial squabbles that defined daily life. Our careers were a feedback loop, and the press we consumed was the press that we wrote.
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- Continental Shift
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BOOKS
Book Review: Continental Shift words by Johann Harmse
illustration by Jess Jardim-Wedepohl Much praise has been extended to Bloom and
a history in this country and the rest of Africa,
Poplak’s ambitious new book, a recounting of 9
they have emerged as the organising principles of
years spent travelling Southern and Central Af-
a new era of journalists.
rica and an attempt to shed light on some of this
It is in this context that Continental Shift is so
continent’s elusive and often contradictory re-
welcome, offering both an insightful introduc-
alities. This praise comes largely from those old
tion to the modern realities of our African neigh-
hands that reported on Africa during the time of
bours and a sophisticated example of how to en-
the American “War on Terror” that Poplak and
gage with Africa journalistically today.
Bloom describe above. But Continental Shift holds a distinct significance for young journalists
The original story of Continental Shift, write
in this country, journalists who face the challenge
the authors, was the story of China-in Afri-
of reporting on a rapidly changing society in an
ca. It appeared to them, as it did to many at the
amorphous digital culture within what is actively
time, that this was the ‘defining phenomenon’ of
described as a dying industry.
21st century Africa. As they actually travelled through the continent, however, this lens proved
The national protests that captured South Africa’s
too unfocused. Obscuring. Insufficient. Bloom
attention in 2015 were, to those that listened, an
and Poplak eventually settled on a new aim: to
exhibition of the myriad values of this generation
develop a set of snapshots that would function
of politically active students; a hard-line rejection
individually rather than collaboratively. The re-
of domineering colonial attitudes, structural ex-
sult? Ten essays, each dedicated to exploring the
clusion, sexual violence, xenophobia, social apa-
diverse and often contradictory parallel realities
thy and Afro-pessimism. While these ideals have
within individual African countries.
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BOOKS
‘It’s a heady mix of memoir, ethnography, analysis, travel writing and at times comes close to a type of political poetry… this is also a gripping tale because of its reliance on first-hand experiences and field work, several conversations and interviews, and sharp observations - Herman
on the ground.’ Wasserman
It’s close attention to the African context. It’s comfortability with subjectivity, open questions and loose ends. It’s engagement with the same issues of modern colonial interference, exclusive definitions, xenophobia and Afro-pessimism. In many ways Continental Shift is an expression of the new values of modern youth journalism. Perhaps more importantly, it is presented using the kind of innovative, content-driven marriage of journalistic techniques that will become necessary to transform journalism into a sufficient tool to realise the kind of work these values aspire to produce. Work, for example, like tackling South Africa’s great continental shame. Throughout its chapters, Continental Shift staggers a heartfelt unpacking of the 2011 xenophobic attack on four Chinese immigrants in the North West settlement of Ganyesa, South Africa. This story tentatively threads together the realities of distinct African countries within a deeper conversation on the politics of difference in Africa and the more intangible processes of becoming and belonging, processes from which immigrants are so profoundly excluded. It is this same conversation, about difference, becoming and belonging, that threads together the goals and values of the new generation of South African journalists. Affirmed Africans hell-bent on dismantling exclusive and insular ideas about personhood and rebuilding our relationship with the rest of Africa, we are hostile to attempts to reduce our connections to others and deeply suspicious of what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie described as the danger of a single story.
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Continental Shift is no such story. Apart from addressing the continental blight of xenophobia, it also performs the welcome work of conducting real-time assessments of modern-day African realities. The scope and skilfulness of Poplak and Bloom’s work makes Continental Shift valuable reading for these budding Afroists, those who wish to sharpen their vague understanding of countries like the Central African Republic and populate their perceptions of these ‘empty’ countries with meaningful and contextualised insights. Beyond that, we need only learn to write as lucidly and accessibly as Poplak and Bloom. In this regard, a thorough reading of Continental Shift is a fantastic place to start. We are seeing the rise of a new set of ideals in South African journalism, particularly among the new generation. These values are exemplified in Continental Shift just as they were in the protests of 2015, but they are not the brain-child of this generation, indigenous products of our place in time. While Poplak and Bloom were reporting in the South African “feedback loop”, Mariama Bâ, Nuruddin Farah, Camara Laye and others had long been framing this continent and its distinct countries as a places of uncertain realities and complex, elusive truths. South Africa, it seems, is finally catching up.
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CREATORS AND CONTRIBUTORS
Edition 11 creators and contributors Niamh Walsh-Vorster Dave Mann Johann Harmse Wairimũ Mũrĩithi Yasthiel Devraj Sihle Ntuli Shirin Motala Charles Harry Mackenzie Tshepiso Mabula Desmond Bowles Jamie Dimitra Ashton Sthembiso Kubeka Valentino Zondi Thato Simelane Kgodiso ‘Zito’ Mowa Snalo Ngcaba Andile Khuzwayo Edition 11 cover by Jess Jardim-Wedepohl / @jesswedepohl
P.S. To all our readers currently involved in Fallist movements: forwards ever, backwards never.
photography by Sthembiso Kubeka
To all our readers opposed to Fallist movements: ‘tsek 63
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