WORDS Palesa Mohola PHOTOS Lea Crafford and Nanje Nowack/Courtesy of Southern Guild

As the recipient of Southern Guild’s international residency programme in Cape Town, the GUILD Residency, Simphiwe Buthelezi will present her solo exhibition at the gallery.

Born in Johannesburg, Simphiwe is a sculptor and installation artist whose rise in the art scene began in 2018, when she was awarded the Blessing Ngobeni Art Prize, which led to a residency at The Bag Factory Artist Studios in Johannesburg. Her work has been exhibited around the world, with her wider exhibition history including presentations in Kinshasa, DRC, and Miami, USA.

Her work is rooted in material exploration, cultural continuity, African spirituality and processes of self-discovery. She works with natural materials, including ‘icansi‘ (traditional hand-woven reed mats), glass beads, ‘tankrali‘ (Zulu seed beads), sea sand, seashells and metal. To retain their agency and sculptural integrity, she avoids bright paint, opting instead for natural, earthy tones and letting the materials lead her work.

“My work is always in dialogue with the sacredness of the reed mat,” Simphiwe says. “It fascinates me how a single object can unravel and transform into many forms – just like the people to whom it belongs: boundless, adaptable, enduring.”

She uses a creative process closely related to a practice called ‘ukubuyela e masisweni‘ – or ‘returning to the source’ – an existential and spiritual undertaking through which intergenerational materials become vessels for cultural memory, ancestral knowledge and new forms of meaning.

The new body of work for Kala, whose isiZulu translation is ‘weigh it’ or ‘measure it’, includes the work Mhlaba, the focal form for the exhibition’s central themes. It is a monumental sphere whose surface is layered with tactile constellations built from cut segments of ‘icansi‘, traditional mats hand-woven from ‘iNcema‘ bulrushes – a material that extends beyond its everyday function, as the mats are not only used in domestic contexts but are also used in ceremonies and rituals across South Africa. The artwork appears neither complete nor intact, looking as if suspended in a state between formation and erosion.

Another work, Abacus, is an extensive wall-hung installation made from ebonised, handmade clay beads that shift across a series of open contour lines. Released from the confines of the abacus’s conventional four-sided boundary, the instrument becomes mutable and porous, exposed to forces of motion, time, deduction and addition – transforming an ancient tool of calculation into a distorted meditation on what cannot be counted.

“Ultimately, Kala asks not how we measure the world, but what we choose to measure. It invites an alternative currency of value; one rooted in attention, care, and the belief that making remains a vital way of processing the conditions of the present,” says Simphiwe.

Kala will be on show at the GUILD Residency, Silo 5, V&A Waterfront, Cape Town, from 18 September to 12 November 2026. | southernguild.com

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WORDS Palesa Mohola PHOTOS Supplied

Sasol New Signatures continues to be South Africa’s longest-running platform for emerging visual artists to showcase their talents and gain recognition and exposure within the art world. This September, 2025 Sasol New Signatures winner Juandré van Eck is exhibiting a new body of work built on the ideas explored in his winning work, Cycles of the Mind – sculptures that invite visitors to interact with them directly, to give the work its breath and, in doing so, discover its voice within the valley.

“Winning Sasol New Signatures has given me the opportunity to push my practice further and realise my ideas on a much larger scale,” says Juandré. “Die Vallei van Adem asks people not simply to look at the work, but to activate it. Every interaction gives the sculptures breath and voice, making each visitor part of the artwork itself.”

Die Vallei van Adem is a fascinating collection of ceramic sound vessels that challenge the traditional relationship between artwork and audience. Each vessel is constructed from two connected chambers, where the smaller works produce higher tones and the larger forms produce deeper sounds, creating something that feels closer to a choir than a collection of individual objects.

“Juandré’s work demonstrates a remarkable understanding of material, concept and audience engagement. He transforms ceramics into something that is not only visually compelling but also deeply experiential, inviting participation in ways that expand our understanding of contemporary sculpture. It is exciting to see how his practice has evolved since winning a Merit award in 2024 and then being crowned the winner last year,” says Cate Terblanche, Sasol Art Curator and Sasol New Signatures judge.

Alongside van Eck’s solo exhibition, this year’s broader Sasol New Signatures show features 123 selected artworks, including works by the Runner-up and Merit Award recipients.

Die Vallei van Adem and the 2026 Sasol New Signatures exhibition will open to the public on 10 September 2026 and run until 8 November 2026. | sasolsignatures.co.za

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PHOTOS Thea Cogil/Courtesy of Curación Collection

Sourcing clay from the land around him, South African clay artist Mick Haigh forms each vessel by hand before firing it in a long wood-fired kiln. Each piece carries the marks of flame, ash and chance, shaped as much by nature as by the maker.

His Kiln IV collection speaks to ritual and slowness, offering vessels made to be held, used and lived with.

Curación Collection shares this focus on process, material and intention: a commitment to the quiet beauty of everyday ritual. Here, Mick tells us about his practice and current body of work.

What do you hope people feel or carry with them after encountering your work in this space?

“Connection, that humans are not just visitors but part of this living planet. Finding your place at home here in this wild world changes a lot.”

Your work is shaped by earth, fire and time. How do these forces influence your approach to making?

“My approach is not cerebral; clay comes from the earth, not a plastic bag. Wood comes from trees and time from the sun. All these raw elements speak for themselves; I connect the conversation. My approach is counterintuitive: what can this clay around me do, what temperature will it vitrify at, how thick does the vessel wall have to be to stand up to fire, and how long will the fire heat take to vitrify the clay? So materials influence the making as much as my ideas about what to make.”

Can you speak to the role of slowness and process in your practice?

“Slowness and process intertwine through materials. Clay air dries at its own rate based on airflow and humidity, and wood burns at the rate of oxygen supply. My practice is governed by how my materials behave, and how much I can modify them.

“The sun and moon cycles happen independent of how busy we are. Our minds bend time. Natural materials like clay and wood behave outside of time. My practice captures this time, recording the slow process of turning malleable clay born of eroded rock over millions of years into hard, enduring rock again. Bending time through material provenance.”

What inspired you to create this body of work?

“My inspiration comes from knowing that living with meaningful objects can create meaning in our lives. How objects make you feel enhances your quality of life. Do we need more objects in this world? I think we need more feeling in this world.”

How does your current body of work explore a sense of place?

“Provenance is very powerful, connecting humans to source. Being rooted in the familiar warmth of earth, the non-challenging warmth of things made by hand for human comfort gives a sense of I am part of this place, not a superior observer but part of this living world which I affect and which affects me. Connection.”

What values do you feel you share with the Curación Collection, and the body of work you’re creating?

“Human living/leisure environment can only be as good as the evolved thought put into its creation. I create pieces which I feel are not available. I have thought about how I can supply vessels, artworks, pieces to enhance living spaces and quality of life. I feel much goes into the building and designing of structures, and not enough attention goes into how they feel because of what we put in them and how we use them. What we choose to live with. After decades of designing and making tabletop ceramics, I am now using my clay knowledge and skill to explore vessels as art pieces as feelings of expression. I strongly feel the living/workspace edit is long overdue. The values we have in common lie in the quality of feeling and expression, no more average to get the job done.” curacion-collection.co.za | mickhaigh.com

Mick Haigh’s work will be on display at Curación – 9 Orphan Street, Cape Town – from 6th August until the 30th August.

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WORDS Neyani Mphephu PHOTOS Supplied

For Nwabisa Ntlokwana, sculpture has always been about what cannot be photographed. Growing up with a mother who captured memory through a lens, she gravitated towards something slower and more physical – materials that hold weight, carry history and demand presence. That instinct has since evolved into Motherwood, her most significant body of work to date, which uses leather, wood and found materials to explore the relationship between motherhood, memory and legacy. The recipient of the inaugural DLO Energy Resources Group Artist Prize at RMB Latitudes, Ntlokwana is among South Africa’s most compelling emerging sculptors. Here, she reflects on her process, her materials and the stories she still feels compelled to tell.

Your practice is deeply rooted in personal experience, particularly your journey through motherhood and the legacy of your late mother. How did these dual influences first shape your decision to work with sculptural materials, and how do they continue to guide the stories you tell through your work?

“I grew up watching my mother capture memory in an instant, a single frame and fixed forever. That shaped me more than I realised at the time, but when I started working with sculpture I realised I was reaching for the opposite of what my mother did. Sculpture for me is about holding weight and presence, it’s not something that you can glance at and move past. I think I wanted to give her a way of seeing the body.

“Then motherhood came and closed a loop. I became a daughter who continues to carry a memory of her mother as well as a mother who is now creating memories of her own and the legacy I’d want to leave for my child.”

Your current body of work, Motherwood, explores the relationship between wood and leather as materials that mirror the life cycles of motherhood. Could you walk us through how you chose these specific materials and what they represent for you?

“I wouldn’t say I choose the materials that show up in my work – it’s really the other way around. My approach to materials is very childlike: with an open mind, curious, unafraid to ask questions I don’t know the answers to yet. That’s what gives me the freedom to experiment without worrying about getting it right. In that process of poking and playing and figuring things out, I end up learning something about myself and the materials become a kind of mirror for how I see who I am.”

You work primarily with leather, wood and found materials, many of which are unconventional or discarded. What draws you to materials that have had a previous life, and how does the idea of transformation play into your creative process?

“This is honestly the best part of my process. It’s quite a journey. Growing up, I had always been drawn to old things. They carry so much memory and endurance, and that’s something I relate to deeply, both as a mother and as an individual. I don’t think I would be the person I am today without my personal experiences. They have shaped how I see and touch everything I create. And nothing beats the joy of watching these objects come back to life, taking on a new form while still holding onto all the memory they carry within them.”

Receiving the inaugural DLO Energy Resources Group Artist Prize at RMB Latitudes is a significant milestone. How do you think this recognition will shape the trajectory of your career, and what does it mean for you as an emerging artist in South Africa?

“This achievement is an investment in what comes next, giving me space to breathe with the opportunities it’s created. The exposure fuelled by the DLO Energy Resources Group Artist Prize has already given me a freedom to create without fear rather than chasing opportunities simply to stay afloat. It’s also a reminder that our stories and our labour hold value – not just aesthetically but also economically. As creatives, we are often told to separate art from the business but this prize does the opposite. It’s empowering me as an artist and as a business which is something that you need to have a sustainable practice.”

What does the reality of being an emerging artist in South Africa look like day to day, and what are the biggest challenges you face in building a sustainable career?

“It’s a day to day balancing act. The romanticised idea of a full time studio practice is not a reality for many emerging artists. You are building a practice around everything that keeps you afloat. The biggest challenge is the cost of existing as an artist before you have made a cent, then there’s materials, studio space, transportation of the work to galleries. None of this is cheap, you are spending money before making any and nothing is guaranteed.

“Visibility is also a factor. In South Africa, there is a pool of artists who make exceptionally great art but there is a small collector base relative to the number of artists. This means we are all competing for the same opportunities, fairs, open calls, residences and gallery space. Getting in front of the right people often matters as much as the quality of the work.”

Your work speaks to how women carry memory across generations and continually reinvent themselves. How do you see your role as both an artist and a mother influencing the way you think about legacy and what you pass on, both creatively and personally?

“Becoming a ‘mother’ has completely changed how I view legacy. How I create is truly how I raise my child. Both are about what gets carried forward and what gets left behind. I think about the woman who came before us, like my mother. What they carried that was never written down or documented – but it lived on through the stories they shared with us, how they cooked, cared and held themselves through hard seasons. My work is partly an attempt to hold on to those memories and pass them on to the next generation. As a mother, I also feel a huge responsibility about what gets passed on – so I have to tread carefully.”

You’ve mentioned your ambition to create monumental sculptural works. Where do you see your practice heading next, and what stories do you still feel compelled to tell?

“Scale is the next step – these stories deserve to take up space. So it will bring on new challenges to my practice and my journey. As for stories, motherhood is a fraction of my identity and I don’t have a solid blueprint of life yet, so I will let the journey continue and let the work speak when it’s ready.” | @nwabisantl0kwana

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PHOTOS Zanele Muholi/Southern Guild

Universally regarded as the most significant prize in photography, the Hasselblad Award recognises lifetime achievement and the medium’s transformative impact.

“It is with great pleasure that we award Zanele Muholi the 46th Hasselblad Award,” says Kalle Sanner, CEO of the Hasselblad Foundation. “In their artistic practice, Muholi combines photography with activism, creating powerful and significant works in which human rights are central. We look forward to presenting an extensive selection of their work this autumn at the Hasselblad Center.”

The visual activist, humanitarian, and art practitioner is awarded SEK 2,000,000, a gold medal, and a Hasselblad camera. The laureate will also be honoured with a major solo exhibition at the Hasselblad Center in Gothenburg, Sweden, from 10 October 2026 to 4 April 2027, alongside a week of historic events, including a formal award ceremony, an orchestral concert, a book launch, and an artist talk at Moderna Museet in Stockholm.

“This prize is not mine alone. I carry it with the many faces, names, and histories that have trusted me with their stories. From Umlazi to every space where Black LGBTQIA+ people continue to fight to exist freely, this recognition affirms that our lives are worthy of being seen not as statistics, not as shadows, but as full human beings. For years, my work has been about visibility and resistance. It has been about creating an archive so that no one can say, ‘We did not know.’ When this honour comes, I receive it on behalf of my community; those who have been erased, those who are still here, and those who are yet to see themselves reflected with dignity,” says Zanele.

A curated selection of Zanele Muholi’s work is currently on display at Magugu House in Cape Town. By Our Own Hands, presented in partnership with Southern Guild, is co-curated by Thebe Magugu alongside Contemporary African Art Specialist Julia Buchanan. The exhibition, which runs until the end of April and also features work by Zizipho Poswa, reflects on making as a form of authorship, healing, and resistance.

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INTERVIEW BY Neyani Mphephu PHOTOS Nicholai Thomas for AITY Gallery

Bold, joyful, and unapologetically maximalist – Kyle Jardine’s dynamic paintings transform domestic dining spaces into celebratory sanctuaries, where queer community and the simple ritual of sharing a meal become a memorable experience. Each canvas in the Live, Love, Lobster series creates an imagined world, painted in fearless fuchsias, vermilions, and sapphire blues, where everyone has a seat at the table.

We spoke to Kyle about joy as resistance, radical inclusion, and the power of creating welcoming spaces.

What does the title Live, Love, Lobster represent to you, and how does it capture the essence of what you’re trying to create in these paintings? 

“My approach to my work, and the essence of it, is rooted in play. The title is a tongue-in-cheek wordplay on the popular phrase ‘live, love, laugh’. It’s a theme that echoes the concept of gathering and the common factors that unite us, with the most popular reason to gather often centred around food. 

The core of my work is heightened by my theatrical background. As in musical theatre, characters break into song in heightened moments, and in a sense my work captures that song in its own visual language. Ultimately, the work aims to capture a feeling or moment, something everyone can relate to and recognise themselves in.” 

Your work celebrates queer community and the concept of ‘kiki’ – creating safe gathering spaces. How have your own experiences shaped this vision of painting safe spaces into existence? 

“Drawing from my experience in theatre, as well as being included among a drag theatre family, and from my own lived experiences of feeling excluded or being bullied growing up, I create work that is inclusive and allows everyone to feel welcome in the worlds I build in my paintings. In a sense, it explores life imitating art, or vice versa, where the work itself becomes a reason to bring people together.” 

How would you describe your artistic philosophy, and what core beliefs shape how you approach your work? 

“My artistic philosophy is centred around love, joy and happiness. In an already chaotic world filled with uncertainty, there is an assurance that the experience of my work will leave you feeling better than when you found it. At its core, my work resounds with love, play and joyful themes. If I’ve been successful at channelling this into my work, then the essence is bound to reach the viewer.” 

The dining table appears as a central motif – what draws you to celebrate the ritual of the shared meal, and to choose domestic interior spaces rather than other settings? 

“I have a love and appreciation for interior architecture. The sense of home, belonging, and the central theme of a shared meal are things we can all relate to. As a homebody and a creature of ritual, I find great comfort in bringing loved ones together around a table.” 

Can you walk us through your creative process, and what’s your favourite part of building these layered worlds? 

“My process is never quite linear. There is something exciting and spontaneous about gathering inspiration through daily life. My process takes shape from sketches, gathered images, moments from songs. These culminate in the adventure of approaching a canvas and allowing the world to take shape. As a maximalist in the worlds I create, there is always room for more. The exciting part is seeing where it all ends up and what has risen to the surface.” 

The colour palette – bright fuchsia, vermilion, sapphire blue – is so bold and confident. How did you develop this visual language, and how do these colours shape the overall look and feel? 

“Colour echoes the sentiment within my work and the reason I create it. My work is a place where I get to use every crayon in the box; there are no rules or limits. It’s been a natural development, since I’m drawn to the brighter side of life and the optimism that colour ignites within me. The overall look and feel reflects a world that visually enchants the viewer; it’s a place of constant discovery.” 

What emotions do you want to stir in viewers when they step into one of your painted gathering spaces? 

“I want people to feel recognised and accepted. My paintings are imagined worlds where everyone is welcome. There is a great love that travels through my creative process, and if it’s able to reach the other side, my work is complete.” 

What’s next for your artistic practice, and how do you see your exploration of community, identity, and domestic space evolving in future work? 

“My journey in the studio is always evolving; it’s a creative space with no limits. I intend to continue creating on a broader level, with many more media to be explored – art that lives on fashion, furniture, and so much more.” 

Live, Love, Lobster is currently showing at AITY Gallery until 2 March 2026. | aitygallery.com

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WORDS Steve Smith PHOTOS Tink Photography, Supplied

A “vessel for life” is how Mick Haigh describes each piece in his new collection. Created from clay dug by hand from the riverbank near his home in the KZN Midlands, and fired in a Japanese-style Anagama wood kiln, the pieces are meant to be lived with, used, admired and passed down.

Mick views his role as a maker as that of both a guide and a witness: he shapes the clay and sets the kiln conditions, but he allows the materials to respond in their own way. No two pieces are alike – the slow, elemental Anagama process means that fire, ash and heat leave their unpredictable signature across the surface of each item.

Tell us more about the Anagama firing process.

“Anagama firing is about learning the kiln. Every kiln has its own character, and its shape and location make it behave in a unique way. How the kiln is packed influences the airflow, flame path and heat patterns, all of which have an impact on the reduction atmosphere inside. The placement of each object determines how it will look after firing: the fire enters at one end and exits at the chimney, and the flame’s path dictates everything in between.

“The process is long and demanding. A firing can last anywhere from 48 to 72 hours, with wood being stoked by hand every few minutes to keep the temperature up. At its peak, the kiln reaches about 1 180°C – hot enough to vitrify the clay, making it hard, glass- like and durable. Different types of wood, the rhythm of stoking and even the weather outside can all play a role in shaping the final surface. The marks of the fire – ash deposits, flame paths, colour variations – remain visible on each piece, recording the entire journey of the firing.”

What drew you to it?

“I am never fully in control of the fire; I can only guide the flame. It is a dialogue between maker and kiln. By working with and directing this seemingly random process, I can shape the outcome while still leaving room for chance. After firing, the piece itself tells the story of what happened, where it stood in the kiln, how the fire moved around it, and what marks the flame left behind.”

Has this always been your process?

“Yes – but my journey has evolved. Initially, I focused on making what I thought people wanted. Over time, I’ve shifted to creating in response to what the clay and fire themselves can produce. For me, form follows function, follows fun – it follows what wild clay and fire reveal as their best expression.”

What features does Anagama firing give your work?

“Anagama firing leaves its signature on every piece. The flame marks and ash deposits embellish the surfaces, softening the forms and giving them character. In the oxygen-deprived atmosphere of the kiln, earth pigments and oxides are transformed, shifting from static, solid hues into natural shades and tones that reflect the raw beauty of the earth.”

Where do you take inspiration from?

“It comes from absorbing the world around me. It isn’t a cerebral process; I don’t sketch pieces before making them. Living in nature provides rhythm and influence. I’ve never made pieces in a city, but I imagine they’d look very different from those shaped amid this natural landscape.

“I’ve had a lifelong fascination with earth and clay. The fact that I can dig clay from the ground in its soft, malleable form, and then, through firing, transform it into something of lasting value, continues to inspire me.”

What about the 2025 collection?

“It was inspired by building the Anagama kiln at my studio and working with wild clay that I dig locally. This allows me to create an ecologically sound body of work that’s rooted in place and process. Each piece is conceived as something made not just to be used, but to hold meaning, memory and presence. My hope is that they become keepsakes – companions that live with people over time.” | mickhaigh.com

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WORDS Gina Dionisio PHOTOS Courtesy of Africa Press

Located between two worlds – one wild, the other tamed – the internationally acclaimed Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden borders both a rugged mountain wilderness where leopards still roam and the suburbs of Stellenbosch.

In this garden of private myth on the southern tip of Africa, world-renowned sculptor Dylan Lewis explores the notion of the wilderness within. “I think that part of making this garden has been an attempt to understand my inner world by concretising psychological forms in a physical landscape,” he says.

The coffee-table book, The Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden, represents a walk through the garden. The text draws on excerpts from the sculptor’s tour to guide the reader through more than 60 sculptures spanning his career to date: his early birds; the large and iconic cats and African animals; and the human figures he has explored since 2005 – including shamanic images, male and female torsos, and increasingly abstract, large-scale works. Thoughtfully positioned along three kilometres of paths, each sculpture speaks directly to the landscape and its visitors about the inherent duality of the human condition – life’s dance of opposites and acceptance of our constantly shifting state. | dylanlewis.com

The Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden

(Africa Press)

The sculptures featured in this book engage deeply with their surroundings. Their textures draw inspiration from the natural landscape, echoing the rugged cliffs of nearby mountains and the gentle curves of distant hills.  

The book is available from The Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden for delivery and Everard Read Galleries.

One lucky VISI reader stands a chance of winning a copy of The Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden, valued at R650. Enter the competition, here.

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WORDS Steve Smith PHOTOS Supplied

Leah Rolando has you fooled – methodologically speaking. Although it may appear so, she hasn’t painted or drawn these works, and there’s no illustration software involved, either. In fact, beyond Photoshopping out the occasional piece of Prestik, there’s virtually no digital manipulation at all.

The Prestik is there because what you are looking at are photographs of three-dimensional sets that Leah has constructed from board, coloured Perspex and – sometimes – vinyl stickers. She creates abstract still-life vignettes, carefully lights them, and photographs them from various angles, depending on the shapes and colours she’s looking to conjure up from the interaction of the opaque Perspex with the shadows it throws. The actual image Leah shoots gets printed onto Perspex – again not, as you’d expect, onto paper protected by glass. Then there’s the framing, which is an integral part of the artwork. The kiaat wood for each print is hand-picked, and each has a small, inlaid spline of polished Perspex, taken from the colour used in the work. “I’m also experimenting with other techniques using Perspex instead of wood,” says Leah.

What Leah hasn’t fooled is gallerists, or savvy early adopter art buyers. A passing glance may register simple graphic shapes, but there’s a sophistication here that nods to US expressionist Helen Frankenthaler’s groundbreaking soak-stain paintings, Dan Flavin’s fluorescent light installations, and Henri Matisse’s cut-outs. Her work has been picked up by Everard Read gallery, and she’s had successful group and solo exhibitions at Open Studios Kommetjie and Art Under the Bed.

Her origin story

Leah’s path to art photography has had a few gentle curves in it. After studying fi lm and working in the film industry, she did a stint as a multimedia producer for a big media house, before packing that in for an extended holiday in Asia. During her travels, armed with a bottom-of-the-range professional camera, she took up street photography, which provided her with a more hands-on creative experience.

Once back in South Africa, she carved out a career as a product photographer – something that really kicked off during the Covid lockdowns as brands needed their products photographed for online shopping. “It became a bit of a niche for me, which is basically what my art is – it’s product photography with a very small, very controlled set.

“Shooting with Perspex started when I did a test shoot with a stylist friend of mine. I wanted to do some work for my portfolio that was dark and moody, so we did this still life… She brought along a hexagon-shaped panel of Perspex that we hung on some fishing line, and I had my diffuse light bouncing off a board onto the set. And as the Perspex spun around, we were getting different reactions out of the panel. It looked really beautiful – and I immediately saw that there was something there. And that’s where the idea originated.”

Now, balancing being a mom to a toddler with her own studio in Kommetjie, Leah has fully committed to this pivot into art photography. In her own words, here’s how she does it.

Her proccess

“Sometimes it starts with the materials. I’ll go to Maizey Plastics in Paarden Eiland – one of the biggest importers of plastics – and I’ll choose colours from their colour wheel, come home, and work backwards from there. ‘So, I’ve got an amazing piece of green neon; let’s see what I can do with that.’ Or I’ll come up with an idea, then source the Perspex colour. It really depends on where the idea comes from.

“I can also never plan exactly what a piece is going to look like. Light is not precise. You can never re-create the exact same moment twice, with the angle of the light, the shadow, how your lens picks it up… It all comes together in one instant that will never be the same again. I’ll have an idea of how the light is going to work, but it always surprises me on the day. I’ll take a number of images of the setup – but once I have the shot, I just know it.”

Her intention

“I’m being mentored by a few artists in Kommetjie, including Gill Alderman. She always says, ‘Leah, what is your intention? Because that’s what differentiates a fine artist from just anyone who makes art.’ You need to be clear with your intention. And my intention is to draw on inspiration that feels real to me. So with my Art Deco-inspired work, I think back to my childhood – to my mother, who collected Art Deco furniture; and my grandfather, who had an elaborate home. When I daydream about my childhood, for example, it’s the shape in my grandfather’s rugs that comes to mind, and they become a little more defined. And what will differentiate me from other artists is the fact that there’s a style there – it’ll make you think, ‘That’s definitely a Leah Rolando’.”

New directions

“I’ll have a new body of work for the Solo Studios exhibition in Riebeek Kasteel from 24 to 26 October. The basic concept is breeze blocks from the 1920s and ’30s, so I’m working with shapes that are a bit more retro. As I said, I’ve always loved Art Deco – my home has lots of Art Deco furniture in it – and these shapes come to me when I’m daydreaming.

“These are obviously more rounded shapes than what I’ve done before. I’ve touched on round shapes previously, but they never really took off , so I never fully committed – and now I’m going back to them. I know my gallery prefers angular work – bold, clean, simple shapes sell well (and are easier to make!) – but I think the rounder ones are more sophisticated. As an artist, you constantly seem to be pulled in two directions – make what sells, or follow new paths. I’m staying true to my intention.”

Below is Leah’s Instagram handle. Make a note of it. It’s not oft en we come across work that’s this new and fresh – and with several exhibitions coming up, this emerging South African talent is going to become increasingly collectible. Currently, the prices for her work range from R3 800 (for small, unframed pieces), up to R18 000 for a 1m x 0.9m piece. We reckon that’s a bargain. | @
leahrolando_art

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INTERVIEWED BY Gina Dionisio PHOTOS Courtesy of Gabrielle Kannemeyer and Ebony/Curated

Rooted in years of immersion, photographer Gabrielle Kannemeyer’s exhibition – As Necessary as Bread – documents the horse cultures of her community in the Western Cape, specifically in Cape Town and the Overberg. Through her lens, horse, rider and photographer converge as collaborators, holding the tension between colonial history and contemporary reclamation.

Here, she shares the personal and collective histories that shaped this body of work.

How has your upbringing and family background influenced your artistic journey, in general and in terms of As Necessary as Bread?

“My father has always been a big part of my journey. He left school quite young and became a plumber, like my grandfather before him, who was a builder, just like my great-grandfather, and my uncle, who’s a carpenter. I come from a long line of independent tradesmen. People who make things with their hands. My family is full of storytellers by nature; that’s a big part of how we connect, by trading stories.

“Through family, I came to know and love horses. My father would take me along to friends and family and even clients on job sites, who owned horses. In these familiar spaces, I felt a sense of deep belonging when I was a young girl.

“Later, as I entered other equestrian spaces when I learned more about disciplines like dressage and showjumping, I became aware of how few people from my community were present there. That feeling stayed with me. As Necessary as Bread is, in many ways, a return to my own history. I think it’s also an act of reclamation. It’s maybe my way of saying: we were here, we are here.”

What drew you to focus on horse culture as a way to explore South African histories of displacement, erasure, and continuity?

“We make sense of the world through what we know, and what I know is my family, my community, and horses. There was a period in life when I felt quite dislocated and estranged from these things. I found myself longing to reconnect. Horses always felt like a gift from my father, a constant when very few other things were. They became the thread that guided me back to where I started.

“Like many people my age, I grew up hearing stories about the beautiful home and land my family once owned in Stellenbosch and how it was taken from us during the Group Areas Act. My dad has very few photographs from that time, so for me it feels more like myth than memory. A kind of inheritance made up of stories.

“Those stories were always told with a mix of pride and grief, as if to say: we are here today, and we carry on despite everything.

“The horse culture I grew up around never fully resembled the magazines and books I collected as a child. There were almost no equestrian images that reflected my reality or the people I knew. The horse was the constant, yes, but the representation was missing. Later, my dad would take me to local eventing shows, and I learned other riding styles, expanding my sense of the culture and its diversity.

“Studying fine art taught me how to research and contextualise what I was seeing. When I returned to horses as an adult, it wasn’t just out of nostalgia; it was to understand this culture deeply. To trace its histories and to explore why it matters. Photographing horse culture in my community became a way to insist on continuity, to resist erasure and to build something that could outlast memory.”

You describe this body of work as a “counter-archive.” Could you expand on what counter-archiving means to you in this context?

“For me, archiving means being both witness and collaborator. I see it as being a conduit for stories that already exist within my community but might otherwise remain invisible.

“A counter-archive resists absence. It is an archive that speaks back to the dominant, class-coded imagery that has historically excluded certain people from equestrian narratives.

My work is collaborative and participatory, rather than objective extraction. It is about making space for presence, joy and cultural memory where absence has prevailed.“

Were there specific moments or encounters while making this body of work that surprised or shifted your perspective?

“Absolutely. It’s one thing to be immersed, holding subjective views through participation, but the camera forces you to step back, even briefly, and see differently.

“Travelling to new places and hearing people’s stories constantly challenge my perspective. I think I value that the most: being surprised, being forced to question my assumptions, and seeing through someone else’s eyes. Those moments of exchange have deepened my understanding and my sense of responsibility to the work.”

How do you hope audiences will engage with and respond to the exhibition?

“I hope people take their time with these images, long enough for them to stir something inward. I want them to feel the beauty, yes, but also to be curious about expanding their perception of their immediate environments.

“If the work can complicate what someone thought they knew about horses, leisure, or who ‘belongs’ in equestrian spaces, then I think that’s also great.”

Can you talk us through your creative process?

“My process is rooted in immersion and relationship-building. I spend time simply being present – listening, talking, learning about families’ shared histories with horses.

“Sometimes I set up backdrops and collaborate on staged portraits at people’s homes or at the shows. Other times, I spend hours at shows, moving between people, observing and photographing moments as they unfold. I often am invited to join and photograph families for special occasions like matric balls, confirmations and weddings, where horses are part of the celebration.

“Sometimes an image appears fully-formed in my mind, and if it resonates with the people involved, we go and make it together. The process is fluid and intuitive, always guided by a mix of observation and collaboration.”

As Necessary as Bread is showing at Ebony/Curated until 25 October 2025. | ebonycurated.com

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The post ‘As Necessary as Bread’ at Ebony/Curated appeared first on Visi.