An immersive journey through the city’s alternative art spaces.
Johannesburg’s inner-city became the backdrop for Contra: an art festival spread across various rooftops, warehouses and galleries across the city during the weekend.
I started my journey in Asisebenze Art Atelier, an urban art studio in the heart of downtown Jozi. There, I found myself in a labyrinth of different textiles suspended by ribbons from the ceiling. At the centre of this colourful maze was stylist Nqobile Nxumalo who graciously helped fit me into a unique denim pinafore-style dress: one of her favourite pieces. As she weaved the straps around my figure, I watched the dress slowly take shape.
Nxumalo’s collection on display. Photo: Jamie Ho.My fitting of the denim phinifa. Photo: Jamie Ho.
“These are called ‘phinifa’,” she explained, as she tightened the straps. “It’s a traditional outfit for married women mostly.” Nxumalo’s work subverts the conventional roles assigned to women in African culture, allowing for a reimagining of societal expectations. Staring at my silhouette in the mirror, I admired her handiwork: the pleats and folds perfectly hugging my figure to create a bold and flattering silhouette.
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed from the next room. After unravelling myself from the dress, I went to investigate the source. A performance was being held by a few African spiritual healers seated around an assortment of candles and spiritual offerings. Every beat of the drum, piercing note of the trumpet, and squeal of the flute pulsed into a steady melody. I was entranced by how powerfully they commanded the room, warping the air with music.
My next stop was Transwerke, a towering building of crumbling brick and oval terraces originally built as a maternity hospital but now functioning as a creative hub for artists. I descended into the basement first. I stepped into the first room where a few children were busy painting. An array of patterned puzzle pieces were littered across the table: each one a country ready to be assembled into the continent of Africa.
The crumbling yet imposing architecture of Transwerke. Photo: Jamie Ho.Mixed media installation adorning the Transwerke halls. Photo: Jamie Ho.
After spending a few minutes here, an eerie rumble rippled through the echoey halls. I followed the sound and found myself in an open courtyard at the centre of the building. Red, yellow, green and pink streamers rained down from the treetops onto the central patio which breathed with loud, clashing sounds.
A woman was banging a bamboo stick against an empty drum barrel while children shook rattles engineered from cutlery and wire. I seated myself on the blankets at the centre of this whirlwind of sound and colour (a soundscape, I learned it was called). We were encouraged to pick up a few of the makeshift instruments, so I rattled a pan filled with bottlecaps and rice. My skin prickled as the sounds raised and waivered, bouncing off and around the tall walls surrounding the courtyard.
An assortment of instruments fashioned out of recycled materials. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Admittedly before this experience, I had only known the city from afar. CONTRA allowed me to step foot into a range of unconventional spaces that I would have never otherwise ventured into. I was able to plunge headfirst into art in all its various forms: from painting sessions to fashion pop-ups to sonic escapes. It felt like I wasn’t just viewing the art; I was in some way a part of it. And while the experience was vastly different across each location, it never felt incongruent or out of place.
Whether it be in the courtyards pocketed away between buildings, the basement of a dilapidated hospital, or the studios overshadowed by towering urban centers, each space was blossoming with life. It was comforting to know that art will always find a way, that it will creep up through the cracks in whatever concrete jungle it finds itself in, to exist in a very beautiful, very plain way.
Vuvu rating: 9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: A musician blowing a trumpet during a live African spiritual performance. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Wits Fine Arts students Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee presented their collaborative exhibition at The Point of Order.
The theme was inspired by Abdullah’s poem Citrus Soup.
Through installation, painting, and found objects, the duo leaves meaning open, hoping curiosity outweighs fear.
From August 27 to 28, 2026, fourth-year Wits Fine Arts students Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee presented a collaborative exhibition at The Point of Order in Braamfontein: There’s a Bug in This Citrus Soup.
The theme was inspired by a poem Abdullah wrote and shared with Camryn. It reads in part: “My conscience tends the sacred wound, my soup now cold from the ashes. The citrus leaks through my soul; When the water drys up, where do I go?”
An artwork by Abdullah Saloojee titled: Ant/One is many. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
After weeks of analysing it, Camryn said she found a deep sense of want and disappointment in the piece, which became the anchor for the exhibition. The citrus, the artists said, speaks to intense tension and a state of limbo. The bug itself is left open to interpretation; it can be an insect, a stomach bug, or a technical bug. Essentially, the bug is meant to symbolise disturbance and discomfort.
That disturbance shows in how differently they work. Camryn’s artworks are installation-based. Her paintings act as a base, then she builds around them with tangible materials that give them life. Abdullah’s work is orientalist, an art form which blends realism and fantasy. Yet their pieces have blended so well that people cannot tell which piece belongs to whom. “Another thing that visually combines our work is our fascination with found objects,” Abdullah said. Those objects have been integrated into several artworks.
Abdullah wants his work to evoke sadness, but as a journey toward rediscovered hope. Camryn, in contrast, hopes her pieces “keep them on the verge, whilst still being curious but weird at the same time,” while evoking disgust and discomfort.
An artwork by Camryn Jessie titled: Early worms get eaten. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
Both have intentionally stopped doing things the ‘traditional’ way within Johannesburg’s contemporary art landscape: “We disrupt the space in subtle ways by keeping things natural, because you don’t have to do things in a certain way,” they said. Their goal is to get people interested without feeling stupid for not understanding. “The bug is something you don’t fully understand, but it ignites a curiosity,” Abdullah said. “Even though there is something strange and unknown, and that you are a bit scared, we hope that the curiosity outweighs that fear,” Camryn added.
In the end, the metaphorical bug can be feared and embraced. The journey gives space to acknowledge and learn to live with its uncertainties, discomforts, and weirdness.
Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee posing for a picture in front of their found object titled: The Window. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
FEATURED IMAGE: An installation by Camryn Jessie titled: Life leaks/life enters. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
Sudan is the world’s largest humanitarian crisis. It demands that we educate ourselves and stand in solidarity, recognising how art and culture become acts of resistance.
Sudan’s history is often reduced to coups, wars and dictatorships. But beneath the headlines are millions of people living through the world’s largest humanitarian crisis. Despite theseunimaginable struggles, they continue to fight with hope.
At the Kaza Kamba Pan-African Theatre Festival in Johannesburg on August 20-22 2026, the film Sudan, Remember Us transported audiences into the world of 2019 Sudanese protesters. In an interview with Brick magazine, director Hind Meddeb explained, “The violence of what we were seeing on a daily basis was so terrible, and not in the news, so I used the camera as a weapon”. She wanted the audience to feel the Sudanese people, “to feel the love and beauty of their culture, not just get a geopolitical explanation.”
Sudan, Remember Us poster. Photo: Watermelon Pictures
When Sudan is framed only in geopolitical terms of borders and political powers, people’s lives are removed from the story. Film’s like Sudan, Remember Us remind us that friendship, poetry, and community become tools of survival and liberation. A testament that creativity becomes a form of defiance and hope.
Still from Sudan, Remember Us. Photo: Watermelon Pictures
History shows how deeply the world’s silence and complicity have cost Sudan. Since independence in 1956, the country has gone through two civil wars, the genocide in Darfur and Omar al-Bashir’s 30-year dictatorship. His regime enforced strict Sharia law, persecuted minorities and deployed militias like the Janjaweed. Even after the International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for Bashir in 2009, his regime lasted until 2019 and was eventually taken down by mass protests.
Once the largest country on the African continent, Sudan split in 2011 after decades of civil war. The birth of South Sudan carried the promise of peace but has instead left a country torn apart. Borders carved by war became fault lines of power and survival.
On April 15, 2023, a power struggle between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) exploded into war. What began as clashes in Khartoum led to one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises, topping the International Rescue Committee’s Emergency Watchlist. Since 2023, more than 14 million peoplehave reportedly been displaced, and over 33 million people are in need of humanitarian aid. Starvation devastates Darfur and Kordofan, hospitals have collapsed, diseases spread quickly, and women and children face heightened risks of sexual violence.
Today, Sudan is split: the SAF controls most of the north and the east, while the RSF dominates Darfur and the Nuba Mountains in Kordofan. Drone strikes tear families from their homes and leave communities broken, while foreign powers fuel the conflict. Although the UN has warned that Sudan is now the largest humanitarian crisis in the world, aid appeals still remain hugely underfunded.
Sudan’s struggle is about human beings, their culture and their refusal to be erased. In a country where traditional media is tightly controlled, protest art becomes a platform for free expression. Women have transformed henna, once just used to mark marriage, into a weapon of resistance, writing anti-government slogans on their hands and feet. Poets, performers and activists risk imprisonment to speak truth to power. These acts matter because silence benefits those who profit from war.
Still from Sudan, Remember Us. Photo: Watermelon Pictures
Sudan is not just a war zone; it is where millions of individuals call home. To look away is to accept their suffering. To hear their story and raise their voices is to demand action: urgent aid, safer passages, and putting real pressure on those who profit from war. Sudan’s people deserve peace, dignity and the chance to rebuild.
FEATURED IMAGE: Still from Sudan, Remember Us. Photo: Watermelon Pictures
I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See invites visitors to discover the extraordinary hidden in everyday places.
On 4 August 2026, the Wits Art Museum opened “I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See”, an exhibition that explores the idea of home through photography. Rather than presenting home as simply a physical place, the exhibition challenges visitors to consider how belonging can exist in ordinary spaces and everyday moments that often go unnoticed.
The exhibition celebrates the legacy of renowned South African photographer David Goldblatt in what would have been his 95th year. Inspired by Goldblatt’s belief that photography reveals what is often overlooked, the exhibition explores themes of identity, memory, belonging, and place. It features work by nine predominantly Johannesburg-based photographers documenting diverse experiences of life in and around the city, alongside photographs from the “Of Soul and Joy” photography initiative. The exhibition’s title comes from a memorable encounter in which a stranger described Goldblatt’s work by saying, “I understand what you do. You show us what we do not see.”
That sentiment is reflected throughout the exhibition. A passer-by may see only a busy Johannesburg street or an ordinary neighbourhood, while someone else recognises it as a place of comfort, memory, and belonging. The exhibition encourages viewers to pause and reconsider these familiar spaces, revealing the stories that exist just beneath the surface.
One of the exhibition’s greatest strengths is its curation. Each body of work flows naturally into the next, allowing the conversation around home and memory to develop seamlessly as visitors move through the gallery. Although each photographer presents a distinct perspective, the exhibition never feels disjointed. Instead, every collection builds upon the last, reinforcing the central theme and making it easy to understand the exhibition’s message without it ever feeling repetitive or forced.
A picture of one of the art works displayed by Sanele Sithole
Among the featured artists, Jabulani Dhlamini’s “Poloko: In Soweto” stood out most. His work explores the hidden histories of Soweto through photographs of homes, portraits, and personal stories. Rather than focusing solely on well-known historical sites, Dhlamini captures everyday spaces that have quietly become symbols of resilience, identity, and belonging. His photographs reveal how residents have transformed apartheid-era houses into places that carry personal and collective memories while also reflecting on the legacy of the 1976 Soweto Uprising and his own family history.
As someone from Soweto, Dhlamini’s work resonated with me on a personal level. The homes, streets, and familiar surroundings he photographs are places I have seen countless times, often without giving them much thought. Seeing these everyday spaces displayed in a gallery reminded me that what feels ordinary to those who live there can also hold extraordinary meaning. His photographs challenged me to look beyond what is immediately visible and appreciate the stories, memories, and histories embedded in places I have always called home.
More than a photography exhibition, “I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See” succeeds in encouraging visitors to slow down and look closer. Its thoughtful curation ensures that the works complement one another, while its central theme of home is communicated with clarity and sensitivity. By the time visitors leave the gallery, they are reminded that home is not simply a place on a map but a feeling shaped by memory, identity, and lived experience. It is an exhibition that quietly asks us to reconsider the familiar and, in doing so, reveals the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary.
A performance project featuring spoken words, chants, movements and musical art. It is a reimagination of Arther Rimbaud’s poem titled ‘A season in Hell’.
A season in Hillbrow, directed by Sibahle Mangena and Gerard Bester… what were my expectations? In all honestly, the performance far exceeded anything I had anticipated. I had expected an hour of a performance that somehow resembled ‘The greatest showman‘, where performers just burst into song mid-sentence. I had even thought to myself how will such an in-depth, poetic masterpiece be turned into musical play?
Safe to say, calling this performance a musical would be highly undermining its artistry. A group of high school students from the Windybrow Arts Centre took to the floor of the Southwest Engineering building an immaculate form of storytelling. A form that might make one assume is wiser than their years. Simply using school desks, their bodies, their voices, and most importantly their words.
Still of cast dancing during performance. Photo: Kamogelo Lesabe
The performance started with what seemed like a recitation of the beginning of Arther Rimbaud’s poem. As someone who knows this poem well, I quickly realised, that was far from the truth. Each student in the set up classroom delivered these short, punchy one-liners that incorporated words from the poem and mixed them with the real lived experience of Hillbrow. They mingled a clever play on words that spoke to issues of education, poverty, crime, gangsters, safety, hope and love while maintaining the main themes of suffering, alienation, self-destruction, and rebellion taken from the poem.
They carefully tackled these issues from the wide spectrum of the repercussions of apartheid and xenophobia boiling all the way down to the potholes in the street and how a Mageza drives on the road. They mixed all Nguni languages with the Shakespear kind of English which made the performance identifiable to a South African context. They sang amagwijo with all their emotion, they danced on tables, they even used comedy, which only South Africans would understand, to relate to the audience. They represented the theme of rebellion by not conforming to traditional ways of storytelling but rather speaking out against rigidity, limitation, unbelief, and societal standards. Rebellion against real issues faced by South Africans and contextually South Africans who daily experience life in Hillbrow.
Their costumes were an art of rebellion themselves. Wearing torn skirts, untucked school shirts, ties pinned to their shoulders instead of their necks. Similarly to the stage they performed on which was set as a classroom, how they sat, stood and danced on the desks, how they piled desks on top of one another to create what they called “a castle”. That for me screamed a unique and unconventional take to the interpretation of Rimbaud’s work.
Still of “castle” built with tables. Photo: Kamogelo Lesabe
. It was “powerful work of emergence by emerging voices” said Stacy Hardy, one of the creators of this performance. Work of emergence to address current and detrimental issues in the heart of Hillbrow.
The high schoolers truly outdid themselves in relaying the message of reimagining such an enigmatic poem.
Vuvu Rating: 8/10
FEATURE IMAGE: Cast of A season in Hillbrow performance. Photo: Kamogelo Lesabe
RELATED STORIES:
Wits Vuvuzela: REVIEW: Michael: Discovering the making of the King of Pop, May 2026
Wits Vuvuzela: REVIEW: The revival of Sophiatown, April 2026
Wits Vuvuzela: REVIEW: The Heart is a muscle, April 2026
At Decorex Joburg, “Soft Life” looked a lot like everyone else’s life, the continent was missing.
Decorex Joburg, one of Africa’s largest design and decor exhibitions, returned to the Sandton Convention Centre between July 30 to August 2, 2026, under the banner of “Soft Life”.
The theme was a move from the city’s hustle culture to a calmer, intentional design of spaces and pieces. Walking through the five floors I noticed minimalist styling with small tweaks repeated from booth to booth that demarcated exhibits. This made me question whether Africans have a sense of what soft life looks like in their own eyes, and not with a Western gaze.
What does “soft life” actually mean at a design exhibition in Africa, is it a colour palette or is it a philosophy? Decorex seemed to be a lot more about the form through the pale woods; ivory tones and muted neutrals presented as calm and intentional. The pendant lights shaped from soft, feather-like layers of ivory were undeniably elegant, but nothing in them spoke to what “soft life” is in Africa. I found myself wishing they had been exhibited in a bolder way, maybe a light carved into a traditional symbol or covered in African print.
Picture of a geometric pattern in black, white and green with curved wooden legs by Meetlo. Photo: Reatlehile Mashamba
The absence of the continent’s voice raised an unavoidable question even though the show was elegant and soft. The question is whether Africans can genuinely see themselves in this version of softness, or whether we’re being handed a Western idea and accepting it with ease.
Being African is not a simplistic beige colour, it’s the bold brown colour of an animal hide that carries specific meanings, spiritual significance and ancestral meaning. Vukari Art offers a range of handcrafted luxury home decor made from 100% unique Nguni cowhides, with features such as rugs, wall hangings and matching cushion covers. Vukari’s stand was unapologetically African, it took me to my roots, gave me a feel of what Africa was before we became accustomed to a certain lifestyle. According to The Art and Heritage of African Animal Skin Rugs cowhides were traditionally valued for their utility in various contexts across the continent and remain a symbol of both functionality and natural elegance. In an exhibition centered around the “soft life” these designs offered a version of softness rooted in individuality and inherited wisdom rather than a borrowed idea of a colour palette.
In contrast, Design Week Lagos: Homeexhibited their designs using an opposite approach with carved wooden panels with a mask-like figure, a hand-thrown ceramic form and straw woven rugs underfoot, it wasn’t as bold; it was another way of portraying Africa. The mask-like figures were a symbol of Western Africa, often representing ancestral spirits, deities or serving as ceremonial objects rather than decoration. This offered two different, equally valid African expressions, proving that softness and identity aren’t always mutually exclusive.
Leaving Decorex, I kept asking myself, “what does soft life actually mean in South Africa and who does it cater to?” For some part of the exhibition, I felt that Africa’s soft life could have been borrowed from an idea that screams simplistic with a solid colour palette. An African soft is allowed to feel and look different through its unique symbolisms, materials and colour palette with no expectation on what to deliver. Decorex lived up to its promise; it was soft and intentional, but it could include some parts of Africa.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture showing signage of the Decorex sign at the Sandton Convention. Photo by Reatlehile Mashamba
The Melville Art Mile reactivates the creative heritage of the suburb.
Once a month, the Melville Art Mile creates a walkable art experience in the heart of student life in Johannesburg, Melville.
Artists, are given the opportunity to exhibit their work in a way that is accessible to all.
Melville is reclaiming its spot as Johannesburg’s creativity hub.
Ask anyone who has been a university student in Johannesburg; they have been to or at least heard of Melville. From the cute cafes to the busy bars to the grand graffiti adorning almost every crevice of the area, Melville creates a vibrant, friendly atmosphere that differs from its neighbouring suburbs.
The suburb has begun to center itself as Johannesburg’s creativity hub. Student culture has shifted the legacy of the environment from a quiet, calm Afrikaaner area to the lively, artsy dynamic it has become.
One event captures the soul of the suburb, the Melville Art Mile, a monthly event along the Melville Strip.
Canvases spill out onto the streets, loud laughter can be heard all around, and handmade trinkets are on display. This is the scene that greeted me when I visited on Thursday, May 7. The event invites people to enjoy a night of art, music, and community by providing an accessible way to curate and consume art, a welcome detour, especially for students.
Artwork by Indoni on exhibit at Melville Art Mile. Photo by: Kerese Govender
The Melville Art Mile offers opportunities for young emerging artists to display their work. This provides them with the push they might need to fulfil their dreams. A singular compliment on their brushstrokes from a stranger or even a few new followers on Instagram, is sometimes all it takes to get one foot out the door.
Many artists credited Melville in their artistic journeys as this environment is one of the only places that one can paint without anyone disturbing them, in reference to graffiti art. “Melville has always been known as an artist sanctuary.” Aubrey Moloto, the founder of Melville Art Mile, told this reporter.
Thalia Ngcobo, a young artist with work on display at the event, shared, “This is a great opportunity especially for those who are starting out, because starting out is scary. Doing this is the first step in your career.”
The Melville Art Mile is considered an “open market for artists because there’s nowhere in Johannesburg where you are able to sell your artworks to a public audience and receive all the comission,” Moloto explained while discussing the benefits of exhibiting at this event. “All you need to do is fill out an online form that can be found via the organisation’s social media pages and wait to be selected. Melville artists and businesses are prioritised as “this is for them, by them,” he further commented.
Artist Alex Dibakwane and his artwork, Ancestral Disputes, on exhibit at Melville Art Mile. Photo by: Kerese Govender
Moloto shared that the initiative of the organisation is to remind the city as well as everyone around it that Melville, at its core, is a creative space. Another goal is to boost the economy of the area.
Every turn that you take, every street you walk down, and every exhibit you enter, shows you exactly what Melville is becoming – a space for creatives to exist without (too much) worry.
The neighbourhood is more than just its dangerous reputation. Moloto hopes to “shake that narrative” through the First Thursday monthly Melville Art Mile events. The organisation’s driving force is to regenerate Melville’s creative roots and bring back life to the local businesses by boosting the economy and providing work for everyone in the neighbourhood, from students to residents to artists.
“Melville is a great example of what Johannesburg should be,” explained Neil Badenhorst, a frequent attendee at Melville Art Mile.
According to event attendees, art has a pretentious culture attached to it. In theory, art is meant to be something accessible and interactive, a source of community. However, in practice, it has become a very clinical experience. The welcoming and vivid feel has been disrupted by an elitist and alienating crowd.
Yet, this is not the case in Melville. In Melville, art is for everyone.
It belongs to those who cannot afford a ticket to an art gallery. It belongs to those who can sketch in their sleep. It belongs to those who do not understand the difference between acrylic, watercolour, or gouache. It belongs to those who can mould a block of clay into a masterpiece.
FEATURED IMAGE: Attendee looking at artwork on display at the Melville Art Mile. Photo by: Kerese Govender.
As a fashion design graduate, I view the Met Gala with a more demanding eye than the average spectator. I look for textile innovation and historical literacy. When the 2026 theme was announced as “Costume Art,” I was ecstatic. It was a call to treat the human form as a canvas.
This theme offered a limitless playground, yet the evening proved to be a game of hits and misses. While some evolved the silhouette, others simply slapped a painting onto fabric. True “Costume Art” requires transformation, and only a handful truly understood the assignment.
However, one cannot discuss the artistry on the steps without acknowledging the tension on the streets. The evening’s opulence faced heavy scrutiny as Jeff Bezos served as honorary chair. The record-breaking $42 million (R701.87 million) proceeds drew criticism, with protesters outside highlighting the disparity between the gala’s excess and Amazon’s labour controversies. This corporate undertone, marked by the notable absences of stars like Bella Hadid, Zendaya and New York’s mayor, Zohran Mamdani, left the event feeling more like a private billionaire function than a cultural zeitgeist.
So I followed with that unease at the back of my mind, but with my eye and pen poised.
The ‘almost’gallery: honourable mentions
These looks were undeniably stunning and technically brilliant, but they missed my top spots because they felt a bit too ‘safe’, or in one case, incomplete, compared to the architectural risks taken by my favourites.
Laura Harrier (Di Petsa): A masterclass in ‘wet look’ draping that turned her into a Greek marble statue, though the silhouette felt familiar.
Kendall Jenner (Gap Studio): A sophisticated take on the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Had she worn her monumental wings on the carpet rather than just in the museum photos, she would have secured the win.
As stunning as those classic references were, a few attendees truly understood the assignment, transforming the body into a living canvas in ways that felt entirely new.
The masterpieces: when fashion becomes art
Emma Chamberlain set the bar in custom Casey Cadwallader for Mugler. Drawing from Van Gogh’s impasto techniques, the gown utilised hand-painted resin and moulded silk to capture the tactile texture of a canvas come to life. She didn’t just wear art; she embodied the medium of painting itself.
Yu-Chi Lyra Kuo provided a moment of monochromatic brilliance, channelling the Winged Victory through Jean Paul Gaultier’s architectural pleating. The atelier transformed soft fabric into chiselled marble, celebrating the artisan’s ability to turn textile into stone.
Sabine Getty offered a haunting metaphor for the decay of art. The Ashi Studio bodice featured surrealist hands that seemed to sculpt her form, while the shredded silk skirt appeared to unravel like an ancient, deteriorating canvas. It was a masterclass in using deconstructivism to tell a story of loss.
Anok Yai, in Balenciaga, delivered the night’s most profound transformation, coating her skin in bronze pigment to embody the ‘Blac Madonna’. While others wore art-inspired gowns, Yai used her skin as the medium. It was a powerful reminder that fashion can re-contextualise the human body as a sacred object.
However, the brilliance of these living masterpieces only made the night’s failures more glaring.
The unfinished canvases
Simone Ashley’s Stella McCartney gown felt pedestrian. The body-chain aesthetic lacked innovation and failed to engage with the theme’s sculptural possibilities. Similarly, Kim Kardashian prioritised her signature cinched branding over thematic exploration. Her Allen Jones collaboration felt more like high-budget cosplay than the “Living Sculpture” it aimed to be.
The evening’s most egregious oversight came from Deborah Roberts, who arrived in a Christopher John Rogers gown she had already debuted at the 2022 New York City Ballet. For an event centred on innovation, re-wearing a years-old socialite gown felt dismissive of the Met’s prestige.
Finally, Zoë Kravitz in Saint Laurent was a masterclass in the mundane. A basic black lace gown offers zero artistic provocation in this context. For a designer, the lack of innovation is jarring; it wasn’t “bad” fashion, it was absence of a vision.
Ultimately, the 2026 Met Gala proved that when you give designers the world as their canvas, the results are polarising. We saw the heights of technical brilliance, where fabric was manipulated to look like marble or wet oil paint, and we saw the lows of creative stagnation, where ‘basic’ was the order of the day.
As a journalist and a designer, I believe the Met Gala should be the one night where ‘wearability’ is the last thing on anyone’s mind. We want to be challenged; we want to see the boundaries of the human form pushed until they break. This year showed us that while anyone can wear a dress, very few can truly embody a masterpiece.
For those who dared to treat their bodies as a canvas, the result was nothing short of legendary. For the rest? There’s always next year’s exhibition.
Vuvu rating: 6.9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Rough fashion illustration, edited by AI. Graphic by: Daniella Ripamonti
Street skate culture is alive and thriving in the heart of Jozi.
F City hosts a skate competition in Selby.
Young skaters flock to the event to show off their tricks.
Skate culture facilitates youth development and community building.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
On Saturday April 25, wheels were rolling and sneakers were skidding in Johannesburg’s inner-city as F City Market brought skateboarding to the streets of Selby.
The afternoon was filled with cheers as a group of young skaters from central Johannesburg crowded around a small wooden ramp, eager to showcase their skills. The prize: a brand new skateboard courtesy of Crispy Skateboards.
This was young Isheanesu Hove’s first day doing a double kickflip: a move which crowned him the winner of the competition. “Skating to me, it means life,” Hove says, proudly clutching his newly won board. “It inspires me.”
This event is one of many hosted by F City Market in collaboration with Crispy Skateboards to bring skating back to its roots. Joe Dludla and Rhandzi Rhay, two students who founded the movement, were spurred by the lack of skating events in Johannesburg.
With most events being larger-scale or enclosed in skate parks, Dludla and Rhay saw a need to create an alternative space on the streets of Braamfontein for the youth by the youth.
Street skating is central to what Dludla calls the “core culture of skateboarding,” an activity that isn’t limited to skate parks, but open on the streets and accessible to all. “It’s a very small niche scene, so we need to keep it alive,” he adds.
At its core, the space is dedicated to uplifting the youth and providing them with a platform to hone their skills. Each month, F City hosts a youth development mentorship programme in collaboration with Growing Alexandra Skate Club, which aims to cultivate growth and creativity among the youth of Jozi.
As this initiative is still relatively new, it is in desperate need of volunteers. Dludla and Rhay encourage anyone with a skillset to share their craft– from skateboarding to graffiti to music. “We’re trying to influence the next generation of kids,” Rhay says.
The event extends beyond just skating; it’s a culture rooted in creativity and artistic freedom. As co-founder of Crispy Skateboards, Kaelik Dullaart says, “It’s the music. It’s the aesthetic. It’s the attitude. It’s the community.”
Drawn together by a love for skating, the space has become more than just an event; it has become a family.
As the sun set, the kids departed as a group back to their homes in town; skateboards ablaze beneath their feet.
Picture of the young skateboarders on Webber Street. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of a skater suspended in the air mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
In the high-octane world of South African Fashion Week, a runway is usually a transition, a place where models move from point A to point B to showcase a garment. But for House of Olé, the Spring/Summer 2026 showcase transformed the runway into a breathing, multidisciplinary studio. It was a bold statement of ‘The Comeback,’ signalling that after a strategic hiatus from the runway, the brand’s return was about more than just clothes; it was about a new philosophy of survival.
The show was a sensory assault in the best way possible. Before a single look walked, the stage was set with the ‘invisible’ architects of beauty. A makeup artist stood at the start of the ramp, applying live finishing touches to models as they sat, before embarking on their walk. In the centre, a visual artist stood with a brush in hand, painting onto the suits as they passed.
The result was a ‘Human Art Gallery.’ Models did not just walk; they performed. Some lounged on velvet sofas positioned along the runway, remaining still as statues, inviting guests to observe the textile and the tailoring as they would a masterpiece in a gallery. This was not just a fashion show; it was an immersive performance piece, underscored by the raw vocals of a live singer that echoed through the Hyde Park studio.
Photo of the Runway from the House of Olé at SAFW SS2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
“They really have lived up to the anticipation”, noted guest and choreographer Nomza Monake. “I’ve seen Olé’s work before, but today just took it to another level. I loved how they fused the arts together. It was not just a fashion show, but a fashion show with a difference… I’m just so sold.”
Behind this theatricality lies the sharp business mind of Ole Ledimo, the designer and founder of House of Olé. Ledimo is acutely aware that the industry he returned to is different from the one he left. “When times are tough, it forces us creatives to dig even deeper,” Ledimo explained backstage. His response to the economic squeeze during his time away from the runway was to embrace a radical variety, mixing high-end, hand-painted couture with accessible ready-to-wear to maintain and win new clients.
When asked about the defining piece of the night, Ledimo pointed to a garment aptly titled “Collaboration.” It served as the anchor for his vision of the season. “It’s something I feel like as artists and human beings we need to do often,” he said. “Coming together, I think that’s what made the collection amazing, bringing the guys that have been my friends, working together for many years, from backstage into the actual show.”
The collection itself challenged the rigid boundaries of the “modern gentleman.” Ledimo’s suits, architectural, bold, and defiant, were worn by models of all shapes and heights, pushing back against the stereotypes of how men “should” dress. “The colour pink doesn’t define your masculinity. It’s a colour,” Ledimo asserted, defending the need for self-expression. “Sometimes it’s people’s opinions that hold us back.”
House of Olé Spring/Summer 2026 collection lineup for SAFW 2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
As the final model took their seat on the runway sofa and the live singer’s last note faded, the message was clear: Ole Ledimo has moved House of Olé beyond the stitch. By bringing the “behind-the-scenes” directly onto the ramp, he proved that the future of South African luxury is not just about the clothes; it is about the collective power of the artists who bring them to life.
Vuvu Rating: 9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of a model surrounded by art pieces on the runway for the House of Olé, SAFW SS2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
The Atlas of Uncertainty offers a profound perspective on African migration, redefining our understanding of belonging.
Atlas of Uncertainty opens at Wits Origins Centre.
Various artists, writers and researchers celebrated their work during the opening ceremony.
The exhibition holds significance in today’s divided society.
Picture of papier-mâché boat sculpture entitled ‘Mashuna and Hakuna nija’ by artist Onys Martin. Photo: Jamie Ho.
The Atlas of Uncertainty exhibition opened at the Wits Origins Centre on Saturday, April 18, inviting visitors to question the current agenda around migration, urbanisation and belonging in Africa.
From a paper-mâché boat constructed from receipts to a woven tapestry stitched with burlap, the exhibition offers a more humanising lens for viewing the global phenomenon of mobility: not as burdensome, but as inherent to humanity.
Rooted in three African cities, Johannesburg, Accra, and Nairobi, the Atlas looks beyond the borders that divide us. Migration researcher Loren B. Landau highlights that the current scholarship neglects to capture the complexities of Africa, thereby revealing a need to move “from the counting to the feeling; from the census to the senses.”
To understand the vast complexities that define the continent, the Atlas is not only working across borders, but across different media, disciplines, platforms and ways of thinking. Urban sociologist Caroline Wanjiku Kihato explains that this “lets different ways of knowing sit alongside one another, without forcing them into a single voice.”
The Atlas of Uncertainty is a powerful revision of how we understand African cities. It uproots mainstream narratives surrounding migration, opening the space up for uncomfortable yet necessary conversations.
Spatial practitioner, Carina Kanbi provides some insight into the actual making of the project and how its themes of migratory politics were mirrored over the course of its conception.
Going all the way back to 2023, when the project first began, she notes challenges faced by the artists working across borders, not only in physically transporting the works, but also in handling bureaucratic restrictions between countries. “The exhibition did not begin this morning,” she explains. “It very much began in transit.”
And staying true to this theme of mobility, the Atlas will remain a piece of art that will remain in perpetual movement. While it is on exhibition until July 3 at the Origins Centre, it is also planned to showcase in Accra and Nairobi in 2027.
Each piece of the Atlas reverberates with the passion of its creators. Each tassel holds weight.
Each shard aches with feeling. As the cracks of division deepen in our world, the value of this exhibit lies not only in its ability to challenge the status quo, but in its ability to reach where data and statistics cannot, to reconnect with our ability to be human.
Close-up of artwork titled ‘I am the Graffiti on the Cracked Wall‘ by Windybrow Arts Centre. Photo: Jamie Ho.Picture of ‘Strangers and Spaces’ by Austine Adika. Photo: Jamie Ho.Close-up of ‘A Map of Dreams and Realities’ by Billie McTernan. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of artwork titled ‘When We Travel, Where Do We Settle?” by Wezile Harmans. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Main Street in Johannesburg transformed into a car-free zone, inviting people to take back the city centre through art, community, cycling and music.
Johannesburg reimagined its city centre, as Main Street closed to cars and reclaimed by the people.
Music, art, cycling and children’s activities filled the streets, creating a sense of community, safety and connection.
Inspired by cities globally, Main Street Sundays is part of an experiment to revitalise the city .
On Sunday, April 12, Johannesburg reimagined how we can experience the city. What is usually jammed with traffic, became a space for walking, cycling, art and connection. The initiative was led by Jozi My Jozi in partnership with Young Urbanists. For one full day Main Street in Marshalltown was closed to motor vehicles and belonged to the people.
There was something happening on every corner. Music played, book clubs met in the open, art filled the streets, people skated, played games and searched the stalls. It was more than just a street closure, it was a reclaiming of public space from cars.
“Our mission is to bring people back to the city,” said Jozi My Jozi Education Workstream Coordinator, Senty Maphosa. “Let’s relove, let’s reimagine what the city could look like.”
Globally, cars dominate 80% of public space. But as Thandile Manyifolo, BA Architecture Student and Deputy Chairperson of the Jozi My Jozi Chapter at Wits University reminds us, “urban spaces were designed for people to live in. If people come secondary to that, are they really fulfilling their purpose?”
Organisers emphasised that reclaiming the streets is not just about daytime activities but also creating more opportunities and innovation for young people into the evenings.
The event offered a glimpse into how urban space can return to being people centric. Children played freely, with a programme created in partnership with Play Africa, the day included interactive learning activities, face painting, chalk art, sports and a gallery.
People felt at ease, walking around taking photos on their phones, dancing and laughing. There was a sense of belonging. “Today is all about community, it’s all about collaboration and it’s all about bringing back a sense of pride and inspiring people,” said Maphosa.
Jozi My Jozi is reimagining Joburg’s CBD. Photo: Hannah BrownA game of table tennis is held on the street. Photo: Hannah BrownKids area in partnership with Play Africa. Photo: Hannah BrownAs Main Street closed to cars, cyclists rode through the CBD. Photo: Hannah BrownA music group performs at the event. Photo: Hannah BrownSkateboarders took to the city streets, performing tricks. Photo: Hannah BrownVisitors play a game of foosball. Photo: Hannah BrownJozi My Jozi signs during Main Street Sundays. Photo: Hannah Brown
Inspired by cities including Bogotá, Paris and Cape Town’s Bree Street. The event is part of a larger experiment to revitalise the city, reimagine the use of urban space and see what happens when streets are closed to cars and given to pedestrians.
For Johannesburg, Main Street Sundays was the first of what many hope will become a regular event. “We are starting something that will have a domino effect in the long term to open up the streets of Jozi, not just Main Street, but the entirety of the city,” said Manyifolo.
It showed us what Joburg can feel like, where the city is not just a place to quickly pass through, but one where we can come together, connect and move safely.
FEATURED IMAGE: Cyclist from the Sentech Croozers rides a stance bike at Main Street Sundays. Photo: Hannah Brown
In episode six of We Should Be Writing season 7, the team unpacked the evolution of music as a form of expression and protest, through four decades in the South African context. The episode explores the journey of South African music and its consumers from the 80s, 90s, early 2000s and contemporary listeners. From the […]
