Creative Authorship Is Photographer Rogers Ouma’s Vision

When Rogers Ouma first laid eyes on the glossy pages of Vogue, he was in a quiet Kenyan village, flipping through old issues his cousin had collected like treasure. His cousin, a literature teacher with an eye for beauty, kept a modest stash of early-2000s fashion magazines that would prove formative. “I grew up between the city and the village, and it was in the village that I first encountered fashion magazines—thanks to my cousin who collected them. I’d look at images in early 2000s Vogues and think, ‘How is this even possible?’ That curiosity stayed with me,” he reminisces. 

What began as a distant fascination with high fashion’s surreal gloss quickly grew into something more urgent: a visual hunger and a drive to make things just as arresting as he’s seen across those pages. It’s a fire that still burns now, years later, as Rogers has carved out his place as one of East Africa’s most compelling visual storytellers, though, less interested in trends than in timelessness, and always chasing the feeling that those Vogue pages first sparked. For someone now known for rich visuals and narrative flair, Rogers’ origin story is deeply spirited. The camera was always meant to find its way into his hands. A visiting Austrian mentor, while Rogers was tutoring maths, changed his trajectory in an instant. “He handed me a camera and said, ‘Let’s go for a test shoot.’ I had no idea how to use it, but I shot a thousand photos that day. They were all terrible, but he told me that’s exactly how it starts,” Roger explains, and this spark of experimentation—unfazed by perfection—is something Rogers has never lost. A high achiever at school, with multiple pathways ahead, Rogers rejected multiple scholarships to study abroad in the U.S., Austria, and India, choosing instead to stay in Kenya and pursue media studies in Nairobi. “I chose to stay in Kenya and enrolled myself at Multimedia University to study media and broadcast. That’s when I started shooting full-time.” Moving to the city was initially a rude awakening; within days of moving from Kisumu, he was robbed at the bus station—camera gone, savings wiped out. Rogers, already used to improvisation, simply borrowed a classmate’s camera and edited on his roommate’s laptop. “Having gear wasn’t going to stop me. I’d shoot when they were in class, then post the work on Facebook. Eventually, I grew a crazy fan base—people started paying attention.” 

Photography by Rogers Ouma

Imbued with Nairobi grit, people noticed Rogers’ work, and granted him something of an underground cult-status. Rogers is an OG on the East African scene. His early work—self-taught —began gaining traction, and landed a feature on Vogue Italia while he was still a student. A huge full circle moment, to which Rogers says, “at first, I was replicating the kinds of visuals I’d seen in Vogue, and for people around me, it was something completely new. That visibility gave me momentum.”

Even as his technical skills evolved, Rogers’ vision stretched beyond beauty for beauty’s sake. Though principally a fashion photographer, Rogers’ subject matter spans across social, racial and environmental justice, all intersections he feels are intrinsic to African sartorial and creative identities, “I’m very open-minded in what I shoot,” Rogers notes, 90% of the time, I gravitate toward non-conforming styles. Highlighting queerness or social justice in my work can be dangerous in Nairobi—it’s illegal to be queer here. But for me, it’s important to tell these stories.” Rogers has had collaborators scrub themselves online after shoots for safety, their identities erased to avoid violence or backlash. One such project, featuring queer creatives, found itself exhibited in New York through OKAYAfrica, “That was major. It meant that stories from here, our truths, were being seen elsewhere,” Roger notes with conviction. 

Rogers is deeply committed to the potential of East Africa, but points out that how the region is framed by the global creative industry is still problematic. “East Africa is still so untapped when it comes to fashion and creativity. There’s so much happening, but almost zero visibility internationally. That’s why collaborations like the ones I’ve created with The New Originals matter, they’re actually committed to amplifying voices from here. Eben and the team from TNO are one of few international teams who travel somewhere and collaborate directly with the creatives in that place.”

Rogers is strategic about changing this narrative, as he lays the groundwork for a more equitable creative ecosystem in East Africa. His call to action is simple; work with the local creative community. “If I have a client who wants to shoot in a different location—Lamu is there. Mombasa is there. I’ll take care of everything. We have equipment, we have a team. If you want to transport something to Lamu, I know people who fly jets. If you want to shoot in the Maasai Mara, I know the people, I know the way there.” This issue is intimately tied to the continual tensions and reclamation of  ownership on the continent. Rogers recalls international productions parachuting in and using Kenyan soil as backdrop, without engaging local talent. “There was a day when a huge brand flew in an entire crew, and the only locals on set were two of my friends—one a makeup artist and designer, and the other assisting by carrying the umbrella. That’s it.”

Rogers’ own education in the importance of authorship arose from his background in humanitarian-led news. While studying, Rogers landed a job at Camera Pix—an esteemed Kenyan production house founded by the son of legendary photojournalist Mohamed Amin. “Being employed in that company gave me a lot. People in my class were in lectures; I was on planes, travelling across Africa. I used to film for CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera, NGOs—all of that.” Those years on the ground, immersed in real stories, taught Roger how to find the human thread in every story, to document without spectacle, and to shoot with a sensitivity and respect for the context and people involved. This hard-won documentary sensibility has never left his fashion work, as is evident to the deeply enriching and compelling portrayal of his imagery; “we’d create human interest stories, political stories, health stories. That’s why my fashion photography looks like a documentary. Even when I’m shooting fashion, I’m telling a story.” As Rogers emphasises, he has worked on sleek commercial campaigns—products, clean backdrops, imbibed by sterile minimalism—but these briefs don’t ignite him the way fieldwork does. “I can shoot the fancy stuff, clean backdrops, whatever—I’ve done those campaigns—but I won’t show them. What I want to show is the documentary side. That’s what makes it all click for me.”

Photography by Rogers Ouma

Even when his peers were preparing for final exams and graduation ceremonies, Rogers was out in the world, already working. It is precisely this expansive vision and determination that has brought Rogers to South Africa, to live between the two regions,“South Africa always had something for me because of the access, and the creatives bending all these norms and everything,” Rogers explains, “I’ve seen crazy stuff being done in South Africa. If I can be free and shoot, that’s me. You will find me there, and that’s what South Africa offers in constant supply.”

For Rogers, the dream is to facilitate the kind of burgeoning creative economy in East Africa that already exists in places like South Africa. His perspective is a poignant reminder of our relative freedom—both creatively and politically—and the importance of access in shaping artistic futures. I’m reminded of the continued work for liberation all across the continent: the ability to create boldly, safely, and without apology, and with the kind of respect and opportunity that Africa deserves on its own terms; far beyond the systems of voyeurism and culture-vulturing that still exist. South Africa’s cultural infrastructure and cross-disciplinary networks offers a rare scaffolding for artists to grow and thrive, despite our need for so much more in this respect. I’m reminded, too, that each creative is working towards a broader model for the future that resists extraction and instead nurtures creativity from within. 

So what’s the endgame, I ask Rogers, after all is said and done? Rogers intimates his vision for seizing this moment of renaissance on the continent,  is a hope to be part of a lineage of ‘greats’, who changed image-making on the continent; “if you backtrack to James Barnor or Malick Sidibé, that’s the vision. It’s timeless. I want to be in my 80s, and the kids are looking at my images the way I looked at their work, thinking ‘oh, this is historic’. I just wanna shoot and create cool stuff that stands the test of time.”

Photography by Rogers Ouma

Written by Holly Bell Beaton

 

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‘Mfecane’ Photo Series Explores the Duality of Destruction and Reinvention

In a new photographic series titled, ‘Mfecane’, Cape Town-based photographer Raphael Blue Bromilow  teamed up with creative partner and stylist Liam Cowie to bring to life an interpretation of their mutually beloved film Beau Travail. After months of conversation and ideation they decided to execute their concept with Ntsika Bungane of Internet Girl who brought his own unique vision onto the field.

Blending fashion, symbolism, and raw emotion into a visually striking narrative, the series stars Ntsika Bungane, frontman of the band Internet Girl. Known to his audience as a rockstar, this photo series presents a new side of Ntsika — showcasing his personality from a different angle.

The series takes its name from ‘Mfecane’, a period of upheaval and transformation in Southern African history. The term, derived from a Zulu word meaning ‘Crushing’, speaks to the forces of destruction and creation – displacement and emergence – that shaped the region. This duality underpins the imagery in this body of work.

Raphael shares about the work, “Visually, Mfecane draws inspiration from Claire Denis’ Beau Travail (1999), particularly its restrained yet deeply textural approach to storytelling. I was captivated by how she sculpted an austere world through elemental contrasts. In these images, I’ve woven together salt, skin, sky, water, foam, and wire to evoke a subtle, tactile response—an interplay between sensation and structure. 

It becomes clear that while referencing these tactile physical elements, imbued in them are the overarching metaphors of the series. Wire could be seen as just metal but represents restraint, resilience, captivity and freedom. 

Photography by Raphael Blue Bromilow, featuring Ntsika Bungane, Styling by Liam Cowie

Ntsika was an essential collaborator for this vision. His presence in front of the camera is both striking and fluid, capable of embodying a spectrum of emotions with an understated intensity. This duality breathes life into the minimal studio environment, making it feel at once abstract and deeply human. In post-production, my focus was on proximity—getting as close as possible to the subject to reveal the nuances of his expression. Through this process, the dialogue between his emotions and the raw, textural elements of the scene became even more pronounced, reinforcing the quiet tension that defines this body of work.” 

About Ntsika, Raphael tells us more about his background: “Raised in the suburbs of Johannesburg, he often felt a disconnect from those around him—his clothing, speech, and artistic expression setting him apart. A few years ago, he channeled this outsider energy into forming Internet Girl, a genre-defying band blending alternative rock, pop, and electronic influences. Fast forward five years, and Ntsika has emerged as one of South Africa’s most compelling young talents. His band is now touring across Europe and the U.S., while he expands his creative reach into modeling and acting.”

“His presence in front of the camera is both striking and fluid, capable of embodying a spectrum of emotions with an understated intensity. This duality breathes life into the minimal studio environment, making it feel at once abstract and deeply human. In post-production, focus was on proximity—getting as close as possible to the subject to reveal the nuances of his expression. Through this process, the dialogue between his emotions and the raw, textural elements of the scene became even more pronounced, reinforcing the quiet tension that defines this body of work.” Says Raphael.

Photography by Raphael Blue Bromilow, featuring Ntsika Bungane, Styling by Liam Cowie

This fashion art series is not only a collaboration between creatives but showcases the merger of fashion and photographic culture in South Africa, where a new generation of artists is reimagining genres in groundbreaking and transformative ways.

Watch the latest video with Ntsika by Royd Ringdahl titled ‘Treat Him Like a Baby’ here

Creative Credits:
Photography by @raphael_blues
Stylist @liumcowi
Starring @ntsikabungane
Video by @roydr_
Produced by @katyaaaaaaaafromcapetown
Mua: @lexi_makeupartist
Stylist’s Assistant: @galajwinkler
Lighting Assistant: @__ifemi_
 

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Is The Creative Industry Uniquely Positioned to Thrive in an Impending Economic Downturn?

When the stock market shudders and the world’s wealthiest hedge their bets, the creative class gets to work. History has shown us that periods of economic collapse are paradoxically fertile ground for disruption and reinvention. We are currently in familiar terrain with a global recession alarms sounding once again; amid trade wars, post-pandemic disillusionment, inflation spirals, and climate-induced anxiety—it’s hard not to feel a familiar knot of dread tightening. What if, instead of despair, we see this moment as an inflection point?

We could all go without another economic obituary and as capital retreats, the creative industry is particularly primed for this moment. Our industry has always relied on community and collaboration as its nexus. Creatives are accustomed to working with limited resources—whether it’s budget constraints, supply chain disruptions, or shifting market demands. 

This mindset of ‘making something from nothing’ positions us perfectly when the traditional models of production and consumption falter. The creative industry has always operated on a foundation of community and collaboration, often forming informal networks and collectives long before it became the norm in other sectors. I’d argue that the emergence of informal systems that are flexible, organic, and built on shared values—are actually foundational within the creative sector in South Africa.  

Basically, we’re inherently suited for a time when reliance on rigid, centralised power structures becomes less than possible. 

Imagery courtesy of Unsplash
Recession has, historically, been a strange bedfellow to artistic renaissance. The 1970s New York art scene exploded in the wake of financial collapse, while The 2008 crisis saw the wave of ‘indie-sleaze’ and grunge romanticism that swept those early days of Tumblr and Facebook. Punk, hip-hop, guerrilla protesting and zine culture were all born in times of economic distress. When systems collapse, so do gatekeepers, and when prestige institutions are no longer viable, the playing field levels—just a little. In such liminal spaces, we can see how new ideas take root and creative ingenuity flourishes on the edges; our resourcefulness necessitates our survival. Personally, I’m excited to see what subcultural phenomenon will emerge from this hellish timeline. 

The current economic downturn is happening alongside massive shifts in global politics and trade. The fragility of global supply chains—exposed brutally by the pandemic—and now impeded upon by the Trump presidency’s imposition of tariffs, will continue to destabilise the world. For the creative industry, this signals a reckoning. The high-volume, low-margin model that has dominated fashion and content production is unsustainable, financially and ethically. We’ve long heard the call of this. 

Brands that once relied on mass outsourcing must now rethink everything from sourcing to logistics, and this opens the door for more localised, slow, and transparent models.

One of the defining traits of creative resilience is the ability to value-hack—to reframe scarcity as strategy. In practical terms, this means a shift from ‘more’ to ‘enough.’ In the context of fashion, this would mean smaller collections, multi-use garments, recycled fabrications— the circular economies we have dreamed of— and for art, this would occur alongside pop-up studios, print-on-demand models, all led by artists and brands who can adapt quickly and lean into their limitations.

Perhaps the most exciting outcome of this moment is the inevitable resurgence of collectivism. In times of hardship, the myth of the lone genius crumbles, and leaning on one another for jobs, support and an expanded network is such that everyone gets to eat. 

If there’s one thing we can count on in the face of tough financial times, it’s that creatives will keep showing up for each other. I reckon that in the face of uncertainty, we will actually see more spaces that facilitate support for creatives, being intentionally built from the ground up. I’d like to imagine a network of resource banks for stylists, or co-operative studios, tool libraries, and knowledge exchanges—whether online or IRL—scaled for people and accessibility. I think of Ryan Hing’s Evolve Studio, which offers slots, free of charge, for young creatives to experiment with their ideas. Ryan’s advocacy for community and knowledge sharing is something we could all take cue from, as it lays the foundation for a new model of creative kinship. 

Interdependence as a value is so recession-core, babe. As Baba Mosia says, ‘tough times never last, only tough people do’. 

Digital spaces, too, are evolving. Platforms like Discord, Substack, and Patreon are allowing for slower, more intentional community-building, in which audiences are built through dialogue. Substack, for example, is the respite to our short attention spans, with the platform being a space for long-form essays that nurture thought and deeper connection between writer and reader. Substack is set to become one of the fastest-growing platforms for independent publishing, and this shows us that despite our fears around AI, we still want to listen and learn from one another in tangible and extended ways. 

As always, there’s a political undercurrent here, of course; as wealth inequality grows and the billionaire class remains protected, the rest of us are left to build new economies of care and connection. In the context of contemporary creative economies, especially those formed in response to precarious financial conditions, Sara Ahmed’s theory of affective economies provides a compelling lens beyond the financial. We have to find new ways to engage in value exchange, beyond money, and into modes of expression such as care and emotion. In these spaces, as Ahmed writes in The Cultural Politics of Emotion, “emotions do things,” circulating between bodies and signs, shaping both subjectivities and collectivities. A tee, or a  collectively made zine, generates connection, belonging, and sometimes necessary dissent. This relational, emotional labour becomes a type of value in itself. Within this framework, the creative act becomes a site of affective circulation—in which emotion becomes both the message and the medium. 

In South Africa, we know that formal infrastructures often fail to support emerging creatives, and such affective economies are especially powerful. Collectives like Broke, that operate as cultural ecosystems built on shared feelings—of frustration, pride, resistance, and hope—show us that affective economic thinking is a key to unlocking opportunity in SA’s creative future. When Broke drops a product, it signals allegiance and joy under pressure. Here, financial success is a byproduct, and in our country, it’s especially true that emotion circulates as capital and cultural production is a powerful, collective act for us all. Recession-era creativity is rarely flashy, and it’s almost always a route to making meaning under pressure; despite the difficulties of the times. 

Currently, we are part of a generational shift, too, in how we define success and sustainability. Younger creatives have opted out of traditional pathways and the pandemic changed the face of work forever. We are seeing an emergence of what theorist Silvia Federici called a “reproductive commons,” in which energy and labour are redirected toward sustaining life—emotional, material, artistic—outside the extractive logic of capital. In these commons, care can actually be built into the infrastructure of our industry through how we choose to create our brands, collectives, or careers. How beautiful is that? 

In the end, what this moment asks of us is courage. Courage to imagine beyond market metrics, courage to centre the soft, the slow, and the shared. We are being called to build economies that account for feelings and co-dependence—currencies that aren’t part of quarterly reports (though important, too), and define the way we survive and thrive together. People turn to culture for both escape and reflection, and the creative industry is already in the business of providing that space. 

Ultimately, the creative industry has the agility, the shared purpose, and the emotional intelligence to lead in moments of crisis. While other sectors may falter under the weight of economic shifts, creatives are already accustomed to thriving in uncertainty—we’ve always known how to make magic from scraps. This time, we’re going to throw everything at the wall—and see what sticks.

 

Written by Holly Beaton 

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MANA Drops her debut EP, ‘Orb’

MANA has launched her debut EP, ‘orb’, a 7-track collection of live recordings that push the boundaries of genre and storytelling. Featuring ethereal electric piano, a double bass, intricate drums and guitar, orb is anchored by MANA’s husky vocals. The EP is a magical realist folk tale about the Moon losing her confidence, weaving an enchanting narrative throughout. 

This year, MANA also drops two singles from the EP—Dots Passing and Every Seven—on all digital platforms. These tracks come with a striking short film, Every Seven, that delves into themes of loss and impermanence through the lens of a small, interconnected community. The film adds a visual layer to MANA’s emotionally charged sound, giving viewers an unforgettable experience. A deeper insight on the film is available on her Substack.

The release was kicked off by a premiere at the Labia Theatre, where Every Seven was screened in cinema, followed by a live performance by MANA, featuring Khaya Mthembu-Salter (guitar), Luke Verrezen (bass), Matthew Keswell (drums) and Vuyo Nkasawe (keys), enhanced by stunning lights and visuals from artists Kamil Adam Hassim and Inka Kendzia. It was a night of pure magic—a true testament to MANA’s artistry. 

 

 

About MANA
3 years into her career, South African-Peruvian MANA has performed across Europe, South America and Africa and completed residencies in affiliation with Sun Ra Arkestra and the renowned Birds Eye Jazz Club. Back home in Cape Town, she is celebrated for independently creating never-before-seen immersive concerts and transcendental music toeing the line of neo-soul and spiritual jazz.

 

Listen to Orb here

Watch the Short Film here

 

Press release courtesy of MANA

 

Boogie Vice, N-You-Up, and Trulybles team up on REK’D

Rekids REK’D offshoot release ‘Make A Wish’ this May, the latest single from French artists Boogie Vice and N-You-Up. ‘Make A Wish’ is an energetic cut made for sunny weather, bringing infectious energy and featuring a debut, freestyle vocal from Congolese DJ and pianist Trulybles, who also plays the church organ coming in at the halfway mark, and whose voice shines in both the original and the jacking, club-ready ‘Kinky’ mix.

“The original mix is sunny and has some of the influences of Trulybles’ church music as he played the organ on it. The Kinky mix is a bit darker, to be played later in the night.” – Boogie Vice & N-You-Up

“I was just being my usual self, chatting and joking around with Boogie and Nick. Music wasn’t even on my mind at that moment. Boogie and Nick invited me to hop in the booth and join their session. I didn’t think much of it, but I decided to go with the flow. Once I was in the booth, I just let my personality shine through. I was being my crazy self, and the energy was infectious.” – Trulybles

Boogie Vice is a Paris-born, Cape Town-based DJ and producer known for his groovy house and disco-infused sound, with releases on Ed Banger, Circa99, and CUFF. N-You-Up hails from Southern France, blending jazz, funk, and disco on labels like

Nervous Records and Get Physical, while Trulybles is a jazz-trained musician whose hybrid sets fuse live piano and DJing, making his debut vocal appearance on Boogie Vice & N-You-Up’s ‘Make A Wish’ for REK’D.

Listen to ‘Make A Wish’ here

 

Press release courtesy of Dispersion PR

Rocky Dawuni’s single ‘Rise’ Nominated for a Grammy

Three-time GRAMMY nominated musician and activist, Rocky Dawuni, straddles the boundaries between Africa, the Caribbean and the U.S. to create his Afro Roots sound that unites generations and cultures.

Rocky is a UN Goodwill Ambassador for the Environment for Africa, a UN Foundation Ambassador for the Clean Cooking Alliance, an Ambassador of Born Free USA and for the World Day of African and Afrodescendant Culture which is a globally recognized by UNESCO. Through these and other designations he uses his music to shine a light on crucial issues facing humanity across the globe through live concerts, speaking roles, panels, youth empowerment and more.  

Influenced by the soulful beats of Fela Kuti and the positive messages of Bob Marley  – Rocky Dawuni’s infectious, sing-along sixth album, Branches of the Same Tree, (Cumbancha) was nominated for a GRAMMY for “Best Reggae Album” (2016) featuring the Afro Dancehall mashup video “African Thriller.”  Branches highlights Dawuni’s ability to communicate a universal, uplifting message that crosses borders and reaches out to the hearts of millions. The influential “Songlines Magazine named the album one of the “Top 10 Most Essential Reggae Albums of All Time!”

Rocky released a Ghana focused EP “Voice of Bunbon, Vol. 1”  which was nominated for “Best Global Music Album” for the 2022 GRAMMY Awards. Three videos were released for the EP including “Ghost Town” shot in Los Angeles, CA by photographer Casey Bridges (son of legendary actor Beau Bridges) which is a poignant tribute to 2020 as well as “Beautiful People” which was shot by rising Ghanaian cinematographer Slinghot in Rocky’s home village of Bunbon, Ghana which explores how “a deep sense of appreciation and gratitude can shift our gaze to recognizing our personal and communal power.” In a time when divisive rhetoric on the rise and the political climate prefers to build walls over bridges, Rocky’s music is a refreshing message about global unity and a worldview of oneness. 

Rocky released “Neva Bow Down” featuring Blvk H3ro in late 2022 which was nominated for a GRAMMY for “Best Global Music Performance.” In spring of 2023, Rocky collaborated with world renown Jamaican Reggae group, Morgan Heritage on their smoking track “Afreeca the Future” also featuring Lord Alhajiam of Daara J fame from Senegal.

Rocky has now released his brand new single “Rise” through AQUARIAN Records accompanied by a video filmed by renowned Ghanaian twin photographers Twinsdntbeg. “Rise” was shot at the original Tuff Gong Africa studios in Ghana (built by Rita Marley in honor of Bob Marley) which Rocky has now taken over and is rebuilding into a global cultural incubator, recording studio and youth complex currently dubbed The Sankofa Center.

Rocky was nominated for yet another GRAMMY for ‘Rise’, sharing “‘Rise’ is a song that speaks to the consciousness that is so needed in this time. I am thrilled for the global attention that this nomination has brought to this first single from my forthcoming album.” Africa is truly rising.

Listen to ‘Rise’ here


Press release courtesy of AQUARIAN Records

Jabulile Majola releases his debut solo EP, ‘Isitifiketi’

As one of South Africa’s most exciting rising voices, Afro-Folk singer Jabulile Majola has built a loyal and dedicated following through his emotive storytelling, blending folk, acoustic, and traditional sounds. Now, he shares Isitifiketi – his debut solo EP – a deeply personal body of work rooted in faith, identity, and community.

The Zulu word isitifiketi translates to “certificate” – something witnessed and recognised. For Jabulile, this project is exactly that: an archival record of where he’s been, who he’s become, and the stories that have shaped him. “This project is about identity,” he says. “It’s rooted in time, movement, and the places and experiences that shape who we are. Growing up at a Children’s Home in the Midlands of KwaZulu-Natal, storytelling was everything – from folk tales to stories about the world beyond. Life in the countryside was slow, and our imaginations made distant places feel close. Isitifiketi is a window into that world – a reflection on my faith, my memory, and my journey of becoming.”

Photography by Endinalo Moni

Across seven songs, Isitifiketi unfolds with clarity and emotional weight. The songs are deeply reflective, speaking to loss, longing, and the search for spiritual grounding. The EP includes previously released singles Isineke (featuring Thando Zide), uBhubesi, and Uyinkosi Yamakhosi, as well as a remastered version of the fan-favourite Woza Mntana.

At first listen, Isitifiketi sounds centred in loss and grief. Several songs trace the ache of losing loved ones – whether through death, abandonment, or emotional disconnection. But as you listen to Jabulile Majola’s poetic lyricism, you learn that it carries far more than only sorrow. 

Faith, too, runs through the project. Not as rigid doctrine, but as something lived and felt. In Isitifiketi, the divine is not distant. It is present in every breath of memory and in every line of song.

Perhaps most impressively, Majola manages to turn echoes of pain heard across generations, communal hardships, into something sung and celebrated. These are songs that speak softly but strike deeply.

The heavy themes are delivered through an unrivaled tenderness – an emotional honesty that gives the EP its warmth. Bamba Isandla Sam’ is the exact admission of fragility, “I’m all feathers underneath”, that helps turn Isitifiketi into a healing body of work. While the ambiguity between romance and parental love in Woza Mntana allows us to see love for what it is. On Isitifiketi, love is not always easy or whole, but it is held with the utmost care.

The EP was developed by Cape Town-based independent record label Quiet Life Co. It is released by Quiet Life Co and distributed globally by PLATOON. Produced and mixed by Ross Dorkin (Beatenberg) with Greg Abrahams producing Woza Mntana, The EP was mastered by Mike Zietsman (PHFat), and features a Dolby Atmos mix on supporting platforms by Vicente Espi.

Isitifiketi balances high craft with emotional intimacy. Through voice, memory, and spirit, Jabulile Majola crafts something both deeply rooted and far-reaching. Isitifiketi is a sonic ceremony – an archive of loss, healing, and becoming. It doesn’t try to be loud. It just tells the truth, with grace.

About the photography and visual narrative portraying Jabulile as ‘The Every Day Man’ photographer Endinalo Moni shares, “I don’t really care how big I get or how many people I shoot, my biggest career moment will forever be my shoot with Jabulile Majola. On our first day we shot in four locations around the Northern Townships and at Monwabisi Beach. My favourite images were shot in my neighbourhood, Khayelitsha. I kept sending the shots I had hoped he’d choose for his cover but everyday I had a new favourite.”

 

Listen to Isitifiketi here

 

Press release courtesy of Quiet Life Co

Studio Bananaaa releases their third short film, ‘Umfana ka Ma’

First launched at Design Week South Africa in October 2024, design and creative entity Studio Bananaaa’s third short film, ‘Umfana ka Ma’ (Mama’s Boy) is now available to view online.

The film explores how taxi drivers form a vital role in society, transporting more than 15 million commuters throughout South Africa daily, despite the prejudices they face from commuters and fellow road users. “Having taken taxis most of my life, I’ve experienced the important role taxi drivers play and witnessed the, often negative, stereotypes put on them,” says Simphiwe Khumalo, founder and creative director of Studio Bananaaa. “We wanted to strip away these stereotypes and tell the story of a young man whose daily task is providing for his family.”

‘Umfana ka Ma’ shares the personal story of a young Johannesburg taxi driver as he navigates an ordinary work day. Offering the viewer an insight into his life, its pressures and the frustrations he feels as he transports commuters, the film’s message is one of human connection and the simple needs and desires we all seek. Explained through a first person account by the narrator himself, the viewer bears witness to this familiarly human side when he receives a gift from his mom – a handmade crochet Mama’s Boy hat, synonymous with the Studio Bananaaa brand.

Showcasing an urban landscape familiar to many South Africans, ‘Umfana Ka Ma’ not only documents daily urban life in our cities, but proves how impactful the placement of certain design elements can be in conveying positive, community-centric messages.

ABOUT STUDIO BANANAAA:

Founded by Simphiwe Khumalo in 2023, Studio Bananaaa is a creative concept studio that serves to express South African stories and ideas through art, fashion, music, design, photography and film. Collaborating with artists, such as Bahati Simoens; photographers, such as Thabo Mthombeni, and designer Sannie, the studio has developed limited-edition product drops, in-person activations – including a concept store and anti-road rage campaign, as well as a children’s book and three short films.  

Creative Credits:

Co-Directed by Simphiwe Khumalo and Thabo Mthombeni

Produced by Katleho Motaung

Starring Mpumi Mkwanazi and Constance Mbatha

DOP Sims Phakisi\

 

Visit Design Week South Africa and Studio Bananaaa’s websites

Follow @studio_bananaaa and @designafricasouthafrica on Instagram

 

Press release courtesy of Design Week South Africa

 

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Coven Presents the ‘Resurrection’: A Party Prioritising Nostalgia and Belonging

According to COVEN, a new Cape Town-based collective, “Club culture is not dead — it’s simply on life support and in dire need of a resurrection.”

COVEN co-founders and event organisers Nabeel and Taahirah aim to provide a space where attendees feel a strong sense of belonging at their immersive events. The collective strives to give birth to a new age that celebrates the magic in the mundane, and to remind individuals that reality is not something to be fixed — it’s something to be felt. 

As of May this year, COVEN presents ‘Resurrection’, a party which prioritises belonging and connectedness with a strong sonic emphasis on nostalgia. About their first party taking place on 17 May, COVEN says, “The idea was to host a throwback party, with the focus on genres of music that used to dominate the club scene back in the day. We personally struggle to enjoy what is currently on offer as the party scene feels so homologized and sanitized. The music at almost all of the parties we’ve been to in the last two years feels like BPM wars and it’s never any songs we know. That’s where our idea stemmed from. We wanted to throw a party to resurrect club culture, hence the name ‘Resurrection’.”

Their narrative aims to be a full-scale rebellion of the norm. Most importantly, COVEN provides the space to dance to the music you love and miss. They’ve structured the sets as such: three sets of R&B/Hip Hop/POP club classics, one set of electro house, Eurodance and topping it off with a set of Vocal Trance (all of the song choices will be focused on the classics 1997 – 2015). The DJ lineup features a host of prolific acts like Keagan Chad, Ray Bennett, Queezy, Kdollaz. 

All imagery courtesy of Coven
Nabeel and Taahirah share, “We wanted to throw a party to resurrect club culture. Initially, we found it very difficult to find our feet and plan this event as we’re both just regular people who aren’t part of the music or event space. We have given this a lot of thought and especially wanted to work with  DJ’s to create sets that are cohesive but also offer attendees some variety.” They also emphasise that their main aim is to create a diverse lineup that appeals to a wider audience as this would be a party for everyone who loves good music and is yearning for nostalgia. “A party for the people at a decent sized venue where ticket prices are reasonable and everyone is guaranteed to have a good time as an alternative to the international acts which are cool but always cost an arm and a leg”, Nabeel illustrates.

To Coven, representation means more than just aesthetics and imagery; it’s etched in the fibre of who the collective is and aspires to be. They are constantly looking toward leading the charge toward inclusivity and change.

Event details:

Date: 17 May 2025

Location: District, 61c Harrington Street, District Six, Cape Town

Time: 20:00 till late

Genres: R&B, Hip Hop, pop, Electro-House, Eurodance, Vocal Trance, Classic Trance

Tickets: Available online at Quicket or at the door. 

 

Purchase your ticket to Resurrection here

Press release courtesy of Coven, written by Niyaal Rakiep

Lucilla Booyzen on Founding SA Fashion Week

South African fashion is in its infancy. Albeit a mighty, sharply attuned infant, it is young, and the natural trajectory of growing up, is to experience growing pains. To be young is to be brimming with possibility, and seizing said possibility is a mantle many have taken up. In writing about fashion in South Africa, I’ve stuck to the suggestion that our youth is our greatest weapon. It means that a blank slate is before us, and we get to decide how to illustrate it. I believe this, fully and wholly, and this month’s Interlude expert is an illuminating embodiment of this sentiment. In 1997, Lucilla Booyzen crossed the threshold of a post-democratic South Africa with a plan; founding South African Fashion Week.  

SA Fashion Week has played a critical role in putting structure to an industry that was still figuring itself out. It created a formal platform for designers to be seen, taken seriously, and to build businesses around their work. It was the first time that fashion in South Africa was approached with the clear purpose of creating a collective platform that could assist designers to seed as commercially viable brands and entrepreneurs. 

Since then, it has remained one of the few consistent engines driving the growth of the South African fashion industry—building visibility, pushing for commercial sustainability, and carving out space for local talent to be recognised on their own terms. Even as globalisation deadened our garment and textile industries, and changed the face of commerce and consumption rapidly, SA Fashion Week has stayed focused on backing designers and insisting on the value of local work. 

Portrait of Lucilla by Johan Venter

SAFW SS25 Tadi Wa Nashe photographed by Eunice Driver

As I write this, SA Fashion Week is hosting its SS25 showcase in Joburg, approaching nearly 30 years as a backbone of the local fashion industry. Fashion is not an easy industry, and we don’t have the government buy-in that we should, or that so many designers we speak to on CEC have emphatically recognised as one of the biggest missing gaps in building a sustainable fashion economy. It is also important to note that, for many of the prizes and residencies such as LVMH and International Woolmark Prize internationally, global platforms tend to require some kind of formal showcase as part of a brand’s background in order to qualify. Suffice to say, whether you’re a fashion non-conformist or part of the changing face of fashion itself, local fashion weeks are critical. Lucilla is South African fashion’s fairy godmother in this respect.

When Lucilla talks about the early days of South African fashion, the landscape was a very different place. “In the 80s and early 90s, fashion in South Africa was mostly entertainment-driven,” she reminisces. Brands and magazines hosted shows, and producers like Lucilla were tasked with putting on a spectacle—creating concepts, sourcing venues, and building the entire event experience. “I did the Cameo Stocking Shows for ten years, which were incredible, and I worked internationally, traveling with South African buyers to Europe, the U.S. and the East.”

It was on these international buying trips—which Lucilla calls the ‘fashion train’ through cities like London, Paris, Milan, and Berlin—that the seed for South African Fashion Week was planted. “It was during one of these trips that I had a realisation that we didn’t have a formal platform in South Africa where designers could choose to show their work,” she says. “Producers were choosing the designers for shows—those who made us look good, to be honest, and I’ve always had a deep sensitivity to the idea of being chosen versus choosing for yourself. Designers had no agency, no marketing platform of their own. That needed to change.”

“By 1997, I knew the time had come,” Lucillla muses, on taking the leap, “I remember the moment clearly—it was February, and I felt this absolute clarity. I went straight to a friend who was working in PR and said, ‘We’re starting a fashion week.’ And that was it. South African Fashion Week was born. Twenty-seven years ago.” Lucilla’s background is in education, she tells me, and her experience as a high school teacher is the foundation upon which SA Fashion Week was born. Passing through her eyes and hands, many designers have found a home to test out who they’re becoming;I am still a teacher. I believe deeply in transferring knowledge and exposing people to the inner workings—the secrets—of an industry. Every industry has its secrets, and fashion is no exception.”

The 90s was a transformative decade for fashion globally, marked by the rapid rise of international retail giants. The internet was beginning to shape how we viewed commerce, with online shopping just on the horizon. In the fashion world, globalisation was starting to take hold—retailers and fast fashion were expanding into new markets at an unprecedented rate, on this Lucilla notes that “the more I travelled and immersed myself in global fashion, the more I realised how far we had to go. I saw the rise of international fast fashion—Zara moving out of Spain, Uniqlo out of Japan and H&M out of Sweden—and I knew it was just a matter of time before these giants arrived in South Africa.” This shift presented a clear challenge, as Lucilla saw it— that South African designers, who had largely operated in a more insular local market, needed to compete with the international brands that were inevitably making their way to South Africa, our designers needed to be ready. We needed to build them up before they were pushed out.”

The apartheid regime was oppressive in innumerable ways; one among them was just how isolated South Africa had been from the rest of the world. This scar, and the lingering sense of disconnection it created, meant that the country’s industries—fashion included—were largely cut off from global knowledge and networks. This isolation left South Africa politically and socially fractured, and economically and creatively stunted, with much of the world’s cultural exchange bypassing the country. “When I started inviting international buyers and fashion insiders to South Africa, I told them, ‘Don’t just tell me we’re amazing. Tell me what’s wrong—what’s holding us back.’” Lucilla notes on her determination to make South Africa’s fashion scene competitive on a global scale, and she knew that the honest truth—however uncomfortable—was essential. “Across two or three seasons, the feedback was consistent: garments weren’t being cut to international blocks, which meant they couldn’t be ordered, graded, or sold at scale. Designers didn’t know how to price their work or sell internationally. They just hadn’t been exposed to those systems.”

SAFW SS25 DAY 1 Photographed by Pierre Van Vuuren

SAFW SS25 DAY 1 Photographed by Pierre Van Vuuren

This was a wake-up call for Lucilla, demonstrating the talent was there, but the technical and commercial knowledge was lagging. “So I started bringing in people to train them,” Lucilla continues. “One of the first was a woman named Marie, a French aeronautical engineer who later studied fashion. She came to South Africa and spent ten days training 15 designers—and I invited fashion lecturers too, because they also needed that knowledge. It was transformative.”

One of South African fashion’s biggest challenges in its early days was fabrication. Lucilla recalls, “Designers would go to places like Oriental Plaza in Johannesburg or similar outlets in Cape Town, buying fabrics imported from who knows where—China, India—there was no consistency. They’d take orders and then realise they couldn’t deliver because the fabric wasn’t repeatable. And the quality just wasn’t there. You can’t build a luxury business on that kind of instability.” While more established designers in the luxury space had access to better materials, younger, emerging designers struggled to source quality fabrics or tap into reliable supply chains. “So we pivoted. We started telling them, ‘Print your own fabrics.’ The moment you decide to create your own print, you have to tap into something deeper. You can’t just copy a Japanese motif—you have to ask yourself, ‘What is my story? What am I reflecting on?’ It forces you to connect to your culture, your design soul. It’s unavoidable.” 

“That was the beginning of what has become one of our greatest strengths,” Lucilla emphasises, and “designers like Thebe Magugu, who showed with us for a few seasons, began developing their own prints. Sindiso Khumalo, who started purely as a textile designer, created this incredibly strong print language before moving into full collections. Then Rich Mnisi started printing, followed by names like Mmuso Maxwell and Lukhanyo Mdingi—each one slowly building their own aesthetic vocabulary.” Lucilla believes South African fashion’s explicit vision of self-determining fabrication shift is part of what caught the international gaze now so firmly set upon South Africa, “we even brought out VideoFashion, a global industry channel that would broadcast our collections to buyers around the world. It made the world sit up a little and say, ‘What’s happening in South Africa?’ That said, even today, the barriers are challenging. We lack access to consistent supply chains and there are weaknesses within the broader fashion value chain. Those are still the things holding designers back from selling internationally at scale.”

Perhaps Lucilla, and consequently South African Fashion Week’s greatest purpose is driving the commercial viability of fashion and its economic impact. As Lucilla puts it, “It’s incredibly difficult to turn talent into money. That, for me, is the biggest challenge.” She recognised early on that while South Africa was bursting with raw talent, transforming that into a sustainable business model was no easy feat. Still, some three decades later, this challenge remains. 

Lucilla has always maintained that for South Africa to compete with global fashion capitals, the country must embrace a designer-led industry. “Everyone’s on their own little mission. Until the powers understand that we need a designer-led industry in this country, we will never reach the levels of the European, American, or even Asian markets,” she asserts. “You can only build your identity and culture through design—across all the arts.” This ethos is particularly evident in her thoughts on manufacturing and its relationship to brand value, to which she notes that “There’s this constant argument: let’s put millions behind manufacturing. But manufacturing can be done cheaper elsewhere. If it’s designer-led—say it’s a Naked Ape shirt—there’s an emotion linked to it. That changes the price. You’re not buying a shirt. You’re buying a South African emotion.” For Lucilla, the future of South African fashion lies in the ability to merge creativity with a strong business foundation, giving local talent the platform and support to thrive and ultimately: a robust, fulfilling creative economy that changes lives. 

I ask Lucilla about how the platform has evolved over the years, and where she sees South African Fashion Week heading in the future, “we’ve narrowed down our platform this season. In the past, we were open to new designers using the platform. Now, we’re focusing on the designers who are making money—those who understand that we’re a marketing platform, not a sales generator. Our role is to create awareness and the designers must learn alongside us as to how to turn that into business.”  By refining the scope of the platform, she believes that designers who are truly ready to approach their work as a business-led career, will benefit from the visibility South African Fashion Week provides. As she puts it, “Fashion Week is a launchpad. It’s not the end point. The designers who truly succeed understand the importance of using that exposure to push their business forward.”

I don’t have to wax lyrical about the promise of South African fashion. If you’re reading this, you invariably know it and experience it yourself. Fashion is as much a fantastical dream, as it is a nuts-and-bolts machine that demands much of those who ascend its stairs. Lucilla’s view, grounded in realism, is clarified by her deep commitment to South African fashion. The future is something she believes in, but it’s one that requires both creativity and discipline. When I ask Lucilla what makes South Africa so compelling to her, bias aside, she responds, “One thing that makes us unique in South Africa is our diversity—culturally, aesthetically, creatively. We’ve always had a strong educational base, and we are all learning together. We’re connected to over 24 fashion schools across the country. There’s this incredible loyalty from families too, that I’ve seen. If a child wants to study fashion, they can get full support. That’s powerful.”

This is the foundation upon which the future of South African fashion is being built—an industry that is rooted in diversity and a commitment to learning and growth. 

The future of fashion in South Africa? Support, education, and the unity of vision. 

 

Written by Holly Bell Beaton

 

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