Thursday, August 7, 2025

An Ode To Cinema


 

“Most humans are drawn to visual harmony, challenges their visual system or aesthetic preference."

"Colours are the mother tongue of the subconscious." Carl Jung.


A film leader is a length of film attached to the head or tail of a film to assist in threading a projector for a moving reel of images that pass through a film gate. These strips of gelatine have always been enamoured by the complexity of the colours that precede the main images, colours and shapes that linger between the numbers during the countdown. 


The bright shaft of light that eventually sizzles into dust hairs that euphorically turn into luminescent forms that boggle the mind, this light seems to be the genesis of these marvels of the film medium, which  are what makes one nostalgic of the days of shooting on film and projecting the final reels.


Typically made from rejected or retired prints of previously released reels, these snippets conjure up another side to the vision sparked by the persistence of vision, and like painting in motion, they are what I would call film art.


***


This video poem, therefore explores changes in human cognition when indecipherable forms are persistently perceived, and the boundaries of the real seen through the boundaries of the real seen through new eyes.


And living in this multilayered video are translucent entities born of light and silver granules, replayed with light and hidden by light. The film gate - a crucible where opposing energies generate their light, is a sacred site.


Like a vast interface with unending flows of the unimaginable, this ode o cinema’s mysterious beginnings and endings, draws a circle in the life of the shifting contours of sight and sought.


Ultimately, the film art offers a personal space to inflict images of one’s unknowable imaginings, seeing what one wills and imagineers, a form of realising (MAKING REAL), the massive microscopic beings lingering in the light at the film gate.


The visuals are modes of self-fashioning owned imageries, signals toward the path still unfolding ahead, a liminal space where the possible in inevitable.


The forms and shapes that dwell in these entanglements between frames, can become forms of dream objects, what has yet to be named; that which invites the beholder to actively participate in shaping them.


Therefore, the video poem is a two-dimensional space of presences, evolving in relation ration to viewers’ perspectives, and their unsupervised methods of listening to inner ideas that rarely have a fixed course; activating forms of attention that escape closure.











Images By: Khahliso Matela


Monday, August 4, 2025

Still(ING) The Ocean


 O Sea, That Knowest Thy Strength


Effie Lee Newsome


Hast thou been known to sing,

        O sea, that knowest thy strength? 

Hast thou been known to sing?  

        Thy voice, can it rejoice? 

Naught save great sorrowing, 

        To me, thy sounds incessant

Do express, naught save great sorrowing. 

Thy lips, they daily kiss the sand,

        In wanton mockery. 

Deep in thine awful heart

        Thou dost not love the land. 

        Thou dost not love the land. 

        O sea, that knowest thy strength. 


“These sands, these listless, helpless, 

        Sun-gold sands, I’ll play with these, 

Or crush them in my white-fanged hands

        For leagues, to please

The thing in me that is the Sea, 

        Intangible, untamed, 

        Untamed and wild, 

        And wild and weird and strong!”


This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on March 28, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.

Thursday, July 3, 2025

Black Trauma And The Shortcomings Of Western Psychology - A Video Poem

 


A short talk with the formidable Professor Kopano Ratele.

Saturday, May 24, 2025

Where Are The Last Revolutionaries Of Our Time

Where are the last revolutionaries of our time;

the dreamers who listen to ghost whispering from the past in a language of anguish?


When ours is a creativity shaped by our traumatised heritage,

how do we face the night without our binding histories?


Where are the bodies of revolutionaries of yesterday, 

to spark raging flames in souls of newly oppressed freedom’s children?


And as we approach memory that exists at the crossroads of the future and present,

without losing sight of the shifting political grounds,

can this generation pray in a different language? 


Those disposed bodies were political.

They stir through memory, under the cold sun

celebrated only by the dead who rest in acoustics of spirits that destabilise the present.


They ask:”Where are the spirits of Boikie Tlhapi and his comrades,

when their bodies lie discarded, 

into dark bowls of a merciless earth where many black bones toil for wages?

Friday, May 9, 2025

Researching Boikie


Human history has been shaped by processes of asking questions, and historical imagery, visions of cultural history that connected the past and present are essential elements for recollection of erased and censored memories.


The central node of my broader investigation into the disappearance of Boikie “Majestic” Tlhapi is predicated therefore on finding a conciliatory closure for family members, but also for the community that shaped his political awareness.


As a narrative vessel, Tlhapi’s life is a reminder that in order for transparency to take the fore society need effectively respond to complex and evolving questions of his death. As a filmmaker it has been an awakening journey of an inclusive discourse that I am to foster regarding the untruths and erasures of people in the not so distant past of white supremacist oppression of black people in South Africa.


Deeply rooted in memory and history, offering a powerful and experimental approach that encourages reflection on significant yet under-explored social histories, this article speaks against historical cliches that contuse contemporary perspectives of the past, deforming and reforming them for subaltern purposes of censor and erasure.


Ikageng is a place dense with often tragic stories and the story of Boikie Tlhapi, an activist who was “disappeared” by apartheid police, is indeed a sore spot for many people within the community, over and above his death - death as exile without return -  that continues to haunt the family.


There is now an inquest opened through The Foundation For Human rights, which aims to uncover the culprits in the deaths and disappearances f over 20 activists. This process has also affected certain processes regarding the research and development of the documentary.


The identified protagonist, Mr. George Mbathu has now been summonsed to appear in court by the NPA, and the court hearing are scheduled for April. He will stand together with Mr. Johan Venter, a former Station Commander who miraculously is still alive and residing in Potchefstroom.


And as the family anticipates recalling and speaking about the gruelling memory of their kin’s death, they have now requested that the director wait until the court case is underway, thus allowing for the film to follow the actual process of prosecuting suspects and finding compensation for the families concerned.



***


Boike’s life undeniably survived shifting political conditions marked by cycles of blatant brutality by the apartheid police force, persecution, collapse of familial unions and the disintegration of social structures. He witnessed the hard hand of supremacy slap the wits from his parents, and as an avid scholar and reader, his plight he saw mirrored in many literary works of revolutionary thinkers who continue to inspire the activists of today.


It is this light that I, Paul Khahliso Matela Zisiwe, propose an annual Boikie Tlhapi Memorial Lecture to be held in Ikageng, to commemorate the man’s spirit and intellectual propensity which fuelled his revolutionary ideologies and political acumen. This lecture will trace the loss, trauma and recovery of our collective memory of the stalwart.


As a curious storyteller whose practice investigates material histories, socio-political  and psychological issues, my research methodology to tell the story of Boikie Tlhapi entailed alternative forms of documentation (phone cameras, voice recorders and digital cameras) that highlight often-overlooked narratives surrounding places and objects, giving space to concealed voices and knowledge.


Re-assembling various documentaries in their style, the process itself reconfigures elements of the research into different modes of storytelling. Despite grappling with vast archives and narratives that reveal the complex pasts of political injustices, the research sparks urgent conversations about loss and displacement in black historical heritage while giving space to voices that often go unheard.


Taking the interviews conducted, their stories prompt reflection on historical omissions, collective memory and shape contemporary dialogue on how we can redress the past from a contemporary vantage point of socialised racism and endemic denial of white privilege by perpetrator of atrocities against black communities.


Two years of research, carried out in close collaboration with the family and close relatives and Boikie’s peers, has allowed for the production of a short documentary film, questioning the institutionalized narratives of South Africas historiography, particularly those concerning its past characterised by apartheid and racist policies, placing Boikie the activist as an emblem of resilience in the face of brutal white supremacy. 


Therefore, the feature documentary film envisioned after the completion of the research and development phase is dedicated to the people who perished in their attempts to fight oppression in search of freedom. It composes its melody of memories with a series of intimate narratives from those who lived along the fallen heroes, leaving lasting emotional traces.


And knowing how memory shapes not only (national) identities but also our understanding of history itself, it becomes incumbent to engage with painful remnants of the past navigating the interplay between those erased personal and collective identities.

 

***


Foregrounding personal narratives and memories, this researched filmic project became an ongoing exploration of Boikie’s multifaceted life, blurring the boundaries between documentary and experimental film through the use of abstract and poetic overlays. 


With interviews, one tends to negotiate unresolvable differences that seem endless without miniaturizing the psychic magnitude of the pain of loss, traversing psychic boundaries that limit the movement of ideas about the past and its effects on the present. The film is therefore another in the growing oeuvre of documentary films that question validity of histories and the lived experiences of black people under apartheid rule.


Together, these pieces form a rich and layered portrait of a young man who had secret political ideological leaning, involved in clandestine activities about which not even his closest kin were privy.

Was his garment construction business a decoy or a gesture of dissidence, driven by a refusal to accept the given political realities of dependence on white colonial masters?


Boikie is an epitome of a very deeply disciplined ideologue, from the reverent vein of Pan-Africanist political worldview, emboldened by an immense integrity and loyalty in covert situation. And trait this is proven true in fact by being the only one who dies on the day of the arrest.


And the circumstances as revealed through various voices, sets disappearance as a condition to reconsider the identity and beckons us to question how can we reimagine and critically investigate our current situations or positions to construct and manifest new approaches to resistance.


The presence of his absence is felt intimately by Boikie’s now ailing mother, who over the years has partially lost her hearing and speech, thus rendering her mute to even voice her discontent with the dragging saga of justice for bis murdered son. Therefore, the purpose of this research documentary film is to celebrate the man and his legacy that has yet to be brought to the fore, grounded on the fertile soil of Tlokwe’s valleys deeply intertwined with his personal and political life.


Boikie’s political and activist identity oscillates between hyper-presence and invisibility even today, when perceived from a lens of self-enrichment that is rampant among former comrades, and by exploring the landscape of his demise, we can locate our growing anxieties of crises within a world where colonial and political legacies are fused with the consciousness of our current moment and past events that are hidden beneath rock and sheets of dust.


Through Boikie’s story, whispers of lives caught in the dark and their refusal to settle, calls out from disappeared souls, guiding us toward our dim, shadowy collective conscience.


*** 


Saturday, April 26, 2025

Museums - A Note On Engaging Cultural Institutions



The J B Marks Municipality and more specifically, the city of Potchefstroom which was once the capital of Die Zuid Afrika, is home to a large number of museums and heritage sites that need to be celebrated, preserved and documented for archives and posterity. 

However, the region has yet to nurture and inculcate an appreciation for its arts and rich cultural heritage, appreciating the socio-economic value the preservation of such heritage through creative practices can bring to under-resourced communities.


Over the past four years, a complex discourse has emerged concerning the ways in which cultural institutions in the Potchefstroom and South Africa at large, navigate questions of historical violence and systemic injustice in the context of colonial history. Artists, historians and academics continued to employed various strategies to urge cultural institutions such museums and heritage sites these to address these issues, often merging activism with their artistic practice. 


As much as some of these actions have brought these matters to public attention, much of the discourse continues to unfold in private, with many institutions adopting cautious or noncommittal stances. The Potchefstroom Museums And Cultural Sites Committee, The NG Museum and The Totius House Museum such institutions, who in the face of political pressure and allegiances have opted to disengage from social engagement on matters of heritage preservation and presentation to communities that were excluded from these museums and institutions.


Sadly, this means that communal relationship with history is being compromised, as one observes biased and single-sided endeavours to preserve colonial history over the preservation and actual resuscitation of the heritage and historical archives of people of colour in the region. 


White historical preservationists feel threatened by the encroachment of black curiosity into matters, artefacts and heritage sites held dear by the nationalist morality of the Afrikaner community, at the expense of the censored and erased histories of indigenous communities who people the region prior to the influx of settlers on their expansionist mission.


Black cultural practitioners and artists continue to struggle to access these institutions, where colonial art and cultural exclusivist morale thrives; these puritanical spaces have become havens for appreciation of white colonial history and contemporary art, neglecting the other voice less privileged.


Collectives of impassioned artists and festival organisers struggle to find municipal venues with cultural relevance because these venues cradle white heritage and history and black presence might contaminate these revered spaces. Bureaucratic strategies are employed to exhaust any efforts to utilise these spaces for contemporary artist expression as they embody the undying spirit of white supremacy.


And truly is unfortunate that the new generation of museum administrators and heritage site managers have not evolved a sense of urgency in regards to transforming these institutions into participatory and emancipatory spaces for social and cultural dialogue and exchange.


But can any contestation of a superstructure that we have inherited and which, as heritage professionals and artists, wish to dismantle entail methods that would eventual destroy the same heritage and art we yearn to preserve?


And knowing that no activist action should reach a point where they are characterized by desecration of these sites of collective memory, one wonders how; in light of the exclusivity that these sites enjoy in the face of the plurality of social narratives that were silenced.


These places were meant to to stimulate new processes of learning and understanding the diversity of our cultures, but it appears there are those shielded historical memorabilia that serves to legitimise white supremacist rule over people who of colour who needed to be forgotten and relegated to the oblivion of unrecorded pasts.


As opposed to the current protectionist stance taken by museums housing colonial memorabilia and artefacts, a discussion around new curatorial methodologies and the changing relationship between museums, artists, and audiences need be explored.

These heritage professionals aught be rethinking institutional models, forging new forms of collaboration, and expanding the role of art and heritage in public life, advancing a more collaborative and dynamic cultural exchange.


These institutions should be producing alternative forms of evidence, constructing archives that challenge dominant narratives and creating spaces for collective healing and remembrance. They must interrogate white literary practices that oppose or complicate narratives of black progress.


Yet, it always happens that with each yearly attempt to establish a festival dedicated to appreciating art and cultural output from black communities falls on deaf ears, met with blatant opposition and disregard because the festival is not Aardklop, a revue of white cultural appreciation patronised by banking cartels and white solidarity political movements.


And when a provincial Arts And Culture office and its staff are impotent to change the status quo, artists are left to take matters into their own hands, to hone independent strategies for expressing their views on socio-political issues assailing their communities. 


Arts and craft markets are monopolised by white establishments who readily have access to these institutions and their facilities, yet black artists struggle to establish their own enterprises in those facilities, left with the despondent resolve for conformation and normally such acts tend to be destructive in the long run. 


When these establishment direly need uniquely inter-historical approaches to cultural appreciation, they simply foster segregationist enclaves that stand independent of one another to the detriment of social cohesion and inter-cultural dialogue.


***


And there is always an exception to the norm as is the case with the Klerksdorp Museum, which has being at the forefront to integrating communities through its activities that range from oral history discussion and collection of archives from communities around Matlosana for preservation in the museum archives.


To date, this museum has hosted portable skills training initiates and various learnerships that enrich the community, and the institution continues to be a haven for craft markets, performances and exhibitions that explore the artistic spirit of various communities in the region.


The museum continues to present exhibitions that question records of social movements and displacement, communal resilience, and cultural memory, blending history, craft, and participatory storytelling into a dynamic mix that engages audiences of all ages.


***


Undeniably, there’s a plethora of managerially dysfunctional institutions syphoning funds for personal enrichment within the province, and MmaBana Art And Culture Foundation is a livid example of this misguided state institution that entrenches the erasure of black artistic expression in the North west province, but we watch.


Pantsula Dance competitions are ceaselessly held in the Matlosana region (crowds dancing their poverty away) and no theatrical play are produced, while AfriForum Theatre is  inundating white audiences with propagandist sponsored art, where their white artists are fed while black fraternities are fighting over crumbs from the table of an arts minister and his minions. 


White establishments conduct fashion shows in these cities, exposing and marketing white couture artists and their Eurocentric unsuitable fashion trends, without any input from black designers.

 

And where are the departmental heads who spend holidays in white-owned resorts, while community-based leisure and entertainment venues languish in under-resourced districts of crime-infested townships without security cartel who honed their skills in the South African military?


There are “koek-susters” and “hertzorg koekies” being sold to hordes of Voortrekker descendants each month, baked by black under-paid maids, munched with other delicacies flooding craft markets and festivals where boere culture is celebrated. Mothers and fathers unnamed, making an entire ultra-nationalist racist community rich from their labour; washing laundry for unrepentant slave-holders who perpetually undermine black effort for self-determination.


***


But, returning to museums and heritage sites preserved for settler nationalist pride, I foresee a retaliatory epoch where all preservatories of colonial history are attacked and destroyed because of their reluctance to acknowledge black presences throughout history. 


The Voortrekkers have to revisit their recollections of their journey guided by natives throughout this harsh terrain, and only through the torching of their falsified memorabilia, will they learn the truth of their unwelcome annexation of our ancestral lands.

Those snipers, religious zealots and militants who are on holiday in the African Safari, from their conscription in Israel where they killed thousands of Palestinian children, we should remind them of their vulgarity and bloodstained heritage.


Those Indians who still look at black folk as the untouchables, the Dalit, should now be taught what it means to be preservers of ancestral heritage. Africa cannot watch whites and Islamist vandalises marauding through the continent destroying any monument of an intelligence they can’t comprehend and deem diabolical. 


Museums in Potchefstroom and across South Africa continue to preserve and exhibit specific art historical lineages, deeply divisive colonial memorabilia and stolen artefacts from indigenous peoples, as well as a variety of eerie and racially derogatory samples from anthropological collections. These collections have to be reassessed, to provide tools for these colonial structures and institutions to better reflect the communities with which they share space


***


The power of visual erasure through the absences of photographic images of people of colour proves to date that it was a concerted mission to not represent black cultures in museums because they would bring into question the origins of trauma experienced by black people.


In these spaces, our perceptions are constantly called into question, reimagining collective mourning as a form of resistance against society’s expected reactions to our collective erasure, forcing us to see beyond boundaries of discomfort and pain.


Dismantling the artistic and architectural infrastructure of white supremacy housed in these museums and heritage should be our concern, but can retrieving and uncovering archives restore the erased peoples of South Africa, and re-energize the social stakes of heritage preservation within our present predicament?


Global uprisings against racism have come to the fore in recent years, and a notable shift in various heritage preservation and art institutions has been witness with the many moving toward decolonial exhibitions which reckon with racial discrepancies forged by past colonial experiences. The talk about inclusivity and diversity are rampant and 


Operative methods have been employed to redress western colonial imbalances in exhibition spaces, thus allowing for a visibility of otherwise invisible cultural byproducts from people of colour, but there persists an absence of cultural knowledge from postcolonial experiences.


Historically however, collections in contemporary art museums have preserved and revealed specific art historical lineages. These stories, however, are ultimately influenced by the social and political context in which museums collect. Over the last few years, some have deaccessioned works—a practice of collection care where some objects are routinely removed from their collections—with the specific intent to make room for works by artists whose ideas and art have been left out of the established canon, especially artists of colour.


Conversations on decolonial repair as both a tool for and a method of engagement with the current state of the world are essential if museums and spaces of heritage preservation are to become authentic vantage points that bring together real and imagined worlds, both past and present.


Interestingly, the Klerksdorp Museum has found methodologies focusing on key questions regarding collecting, archives, and museum practice, inviting audiences to share their personal objects and narratives, instead of letting our differences separate us, creating new alliances within communities.


They have begun to question on how to address the fragility of their collections, their care, custodianship, preservation and eventual loss in the face of the climate catastrophe, in an attempt to quantify the impact of such loss on communities. Hence their drive to digitise most of their literary collection of letters, speeches and other paper based records that could be damaged by floods or fire, for an example.


Their commendable and exemplary move calls upon the rest of those “family” museums and their administrators to question their moral compasses, to ponder the demise of their well preserved enclaves in the face of the “global cancel culture”, and all decolonial efforts that will render all falsifications of history by the coloniser null and void.


Paul Zisiwe 2025