Koto Bolofo is possibly one of the most energised humans I have ever met.
The globally renowned fashion photographer’s work has appeared regularly in international editions of Vogue since the 1980s. He has shot campaigns for countless fashion houses, from Miyake to Hermès, authored more than 20 books, created several films and is represented in major museum collections.
He is standing in front of his first retrospective in his native South Africa, and I can’t keep him still — or, more precisely, get him to a table for our planned sit-down at The Westcliff.
Having just landed from Paris, he leaps and gesticulates with his natty hat, recreating some of his most iconic shots, which adorn the walls of the Roger Ballen Centre of Photography alongside works by 40 other South African photographers.
The expansive exhibition was curated by our fashion director, Sharon Armstrong, with input from the African Fashion Research Institute, and opened to the public yesterday.
We are ridiculously pleased to have Koto in the room. He is the godfather of South African fashion photography and quite literally the first African photographer to break into the hallowed echelons of high fashion.
I immersed the photographic paper, a white sheet of paper, and suddenly an image appeared. It’s like sorcery. I was stunned. I couldn’t understand the chemistry. I was hooked
— Koto Bolofo
He is a man with many, many wonderful stories, which he tells with the same enthusiasm with which he poses for pictures. He puts his entire spirit into it.
There is the story of his family’s dramatic and long escape from apartheid South Africa involving at least one hijacked plane, a double-cross that landed the family in jail sleeping on cardboard boxes, several asylum-seeking sojourns across multiple countries, and digressions into his father’s strong emphasis on education for his sons — as well as for other exiles for whom he single-handedly organised scholarships.
“We found ourselves in Geneva. My father was a schoolteacher all his life, but he couldn’t teach there because he didn’t speak French. So the UK was the next stop, but we were all separated for a year. My brother and I stayed in an orphanage. It was just hectic.
“When I see the separation of families — I’ve experienced that. It’s horrible as a child. I used to cry every night. They were nice people, but as a child you don’t understand what is happening. Eventually, we were reunited; we lived on a council estate. It was rough, with a lot of moving around.
“For me, that built the stamina to say, ‘I want to be somebody.’ When I was a teenager, I would tell my mom I needed to be famous. And there was a defiance in me, and I was strong because of the energy of my parents.”
They lived in a council flat in London. “It was dreadful. People would pee in the elevator. I was the only African in my school; everyone else was from the West Indies and wanted to become bus drivers like their fathers.”
It was clear to the young Koto that this was not his life plan. Academically, he says he was a disappointment to his father, who wanted a doctor to join the liberation movement. Instead he got a son who ditched his finals and whose artistic passions were not precisely matched by his skillset. He says he really could not draw — so only got into a basic art school — but the minute he entered the darkroom, he had an epiphany.
As a refugee, you are stateless, just floating. You have no country to go back to. We arrived in the late 1960s, early 1970s. I got my British passport in 1992 — that’s how long it took, and I’ve got the certificate to prove it
— Koto Bolofo
“So I immersed the photographic paper, a white sheet of paper, and suddenly an image appeared. It’s like sorcery. I was stunned. I couldn’t understand the chemistry. I was hooked.”
He hustled to shoot a portfolio, using his art school friends as models and exchanging photos for products from designers and jewellers. Then came a chance encounter with a strange white guy with dreadlocks who loved his work and suggested he show his portfolio to the editor of New Styles and Sounds, his friend.
It was his lucky break — and that guy with the dreads was Boy George, who released his first single a few weeks later. Koto’s stories are like this: joyous, serendipitous, peppered with the heavy hitters of popular culture, and all strung with the golden thread of his singular vision.
Franca and Carla Sozzani, doyennes of Italian fashion and Vogue Italia, were close friends, mentors and lifelong collaborators. Richard Avedon took him under his wing, telling him to stick to his guns and his own vision.
“It was that endorsement — about four people who made me what I am today.
“As a refugee, you are stateless, just floating. You have no country to go back to. We arrived in the late 1960s, early 1970s. I got my British passport in 1992 — that’s how long it took, and I’ve got the certificate to prove it.”
What has he learnt?
”You have to love people. We meet at a moment in time, and in that moment I have to create safety.
“But you also have to be very strong and protective of your work. Sometimes I could be temperamental and say, ‘No, I want to do it this way’. And I’m glad I did that. You have to protect your work from the beginning.”
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