Curatorship blemishes exhibition, writes Zingi Mkefa
- Johannesburg
- Bob Gosani : A retrospective
- Where: Bailey Seippel Gallery, Arts on Main
- When: Until March 30
Every famous photographer is associated with a particular iconic picture they've taken.
In the case of the South African Bob Gosani (1934-1972), the images forever associated with him are his "tauza dance" series, in which black prisoners are seen dancing naked in the courtyard of the Johannesburg prison, the Old Fort, in Hillbrow.
The humiliating "dance" was meant to demonstrate to warders that no weapons were concealed anywhere on - or in - the prisoner's body.
These images can be seen on the walls of the Apartheid Museum at Gold Reef City in Johannesburg, and now on the walls of the Bailey Seippel Gallery at Arts on Main, in an exhibition titled Bob Gosani: A Retrospective.
It's hard to imagine that the photographer, whose work we revere - and whose photographs include candid shots in 1957 of Nelson Mandela in boxing gear before he was jailed for sabotage, and the most intimate images of jazz singer Dolly Radebe - began his career as a "lanky, inarticulate 17-year-old who began his sentences with the words, 'The thing is ...'".
But, according to Jurgen Schadeberg, the celebrated photographer who took the young Gosani under his wing in those early days at Drum magazine, this was the Gosani he met.
In a book entitled The Finest Photos From the Old Drum, Schadeberg described Gosani as one who seemed "unsuitable for switchboard work or journalism".
As a result, Gosani was passed on to Schadeberg in the magazine's photographic department and started out as an apprentice.
"After he'd been helping me for some time in the darkroom," Schadeberg writes, "I organised a camera for him and took him with me on assignments.
"He soon learnt the skills of picture-making and after a few years became one of the outstanding photographers on Drum."
This retrospective should be assessed on two levels: the artistic and historic value of the Gosani images, and the curatorial craftsmanship that holds the exhibition together.
Let's start with the craftsmanship, or lack thereof. It's disappointing, if not downright upsetting, that an exhibition showcasing work of this calibre should have been put together so shoddily.
At the gallery entrance there is nothing in writing that serves to contextualise for viewers what they are about to see.
There is no clear vision or articulated plan explaining why these particular photographs were chosen, and how they aim, as an exhibition, to say something of value to us in 2010.
Worst of all, while there are interesting anecdotal paragraphs that serve as long captions to the images, there are spelling and grammatical errors throughout, leaving one in doubt as to the seriousness with which Gosani's work is regarded.
But his images will encourage you to overlook these glaring errors. They will invite you to remember that, tough as apartheid was, black people in particular had richly textured lives that were full of the dignity and tenderness that the oppressive system tried to wipe out of history.
You will see random girls on the street captured candidly, laughing while showing off their favourite looks.
You will see gangsters dressed in the finest fabrics, cruising in the most stylish of cars.
And, of course, you will see the darker side of apartheid too.
