Art follows two main paths. The first path is that of art for art’s sake. This perspective insists that art should be consumed and experienced for its intrinsic aesthetic value, suggesting that any meaning beyond the object’s beauty is irrelevant. On the other side of the pendulum lies the second path, which views art as narrow, partisan, or political propaganda designed to serve the interests of a specific group.
Ernest Cole, the pre-eminent South African photographer, created art that occupied neither end of the spectrum. Born and raised in apartheid South Africa, Cole’s photography reflected great artistic works that maintained high aesthetic value while documenting the lives of ordinary black South Africans living under the oppressive regime of white domination. His art, along with that of other South African photographers, revealed the inhumanity and brutality of an unjust system. They responded to the pressing need to demonstrate a higher purpose in their photography. Nothing could serve a higher purpose than affirming black lives’ humanity and ordinariness.
In his photography, Cole revealed the agency of black lives, presenting a rich tapestry of experiences by emphasising their humanity and simultaneously showcasing the dehumanising conditions faced by black individuals. Through his work, Cole exposed the falsehood of the apartheid system while notably highlighting the resilience and dignity of his subjects. Unable to endure the restrictions on his artistic expression, Cole obtained an exit permit to the US. Apartheid authorities permitted those deemed a threat to the system to leave South Africa permanently. Cole encountered similar conditions in the US, particularly in the southern states.
Cole’s oeuvre has gained significant public attention recently, serving as a testament to his work’s enduring relevance and impact: beginning with the reissue of his book House of Bondage — a title that symbolises the entrapment and oppression experienced under apartheid — which he completed over 10 years, as well as a film by Raoul Peck, Ernest Cole: Lost and Found, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival last year. Peck was awarded the L’Oeil d’Or prize for best documentary. It also received the best documentary award at the 2025 Joburg Film Festival and is screening at Ster-Kinekor cinemas across South Africa.
Peck’s documentary reveals the extraordinary life of a person most South Africans have not seen or heard of. It captures Cole’s struggles with a longing for home, a lack of support for his sustenance, and insufficient resources for his work while also highlighting his singular goal of perfecting his photographic skills and the challenging conditions that black South Africans face. While the documentary pays tribute to an exceptional photographer, it does so in a manner that conveys empathy and underscores the significance of his work. The film presents a poignant portrait of him, yet he remains committed to his mission of exposing the inhumanity of the apartheid system. It invites the audience into the world of Cole and his extensive public archive. Peck’s film is masterfully crafted, matching the high quality of Cole’s work.
In House of Bondage, Cole provides a detailed account of life under apartheid. The combination of carefully selected photographs and text tells the story of a people dehumanised by that system and by colonialism. In Cole’s work, we see the power of an image and its ability to tell a story, creating a connection between the viewer and the image. His black-and-white photography conveys empathy, a closeness to his subjects, and identification with their plight. The choice of these colours allows us to focus on the individuals who are the subjects of his camera. It is timeless and minimises distractions because the images will forever be etched in our collective memories.
Through his photographs, he revealed the horrors of the apartheid system. Thus, we bear witness to the brutality and banality of a regime characterised by oppressive policing, a pass system that rendered African people temporary visitors in urban areas; the destruction of so-called “black spots”, a euphemism for the eradication of African townships to make way for white settlements; cheap labour, exemplified by domestic workers in white suburbs; vibrant shebeen life; “Whites Only” signs; and the rise of a small African middle-class, constrained by race and colonial laws.
The weight of these oppressive conditions is evident in the faces of Cole’s subjects. To aid in examining the black-and-white photographs and interpreting the texts, Mongane Serote, James Sanders and Oluremi Onabanjo offer an essential and thorough analysis of the intellectual and political context of apartheid, illuminating the systemic issues that sustained the oppression captured in House of Bondage.
The story of Cole is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a narrative shared by many exiles. Relentless persecution forced individuals to seek safety in other countries, and Cole was no exception. His precarious life in the US illustrates the effects of displacement. He felt loneliness from being separated from his family, home country, and familiar surroundings. Nevertheless, his life in exile was marked by resilience and a steadfast determination to see a free and democratic South Africa. Like Dumile Feni and others he could not witness the fruits of his lifelong work documenting the atrocities of the apartheid system, as he died shortly before the emergence of democratic South Africa.
His work has significantly changed international public opinion against apartheid, contributing to the freedom we enjoy today. However, a poignant question remains about whether the material conditions that gave rise to his pictures have improved for the better.
In his introductory text to the book, “On Looking at the House of Bondage Now: A Lament, An Indictment,” Mongane Wally Serote observes, “If those who saw or experienced the Ernest Cole photographs when they were published in 1967 froze in disbelief and shock, outraged that people ever lived life that way, fifty-five years after its publication, they should be shocked into full-blown disgust to find that indeed, life for the majority of Black people in South Africa is still the same.”
The prospect of a better life for all remains challenging for working-class and rural communities. Our political class and those who hold economic power are not “shocked into full-blown disgust” by the deteriorating living conditions of most South Africans. We should not be surprised when, as Serote warns, many Coles of South Africa living in a post-apartheid era will soon emerge to demonstrate against the state of affairs.
However, we possess the ability to improve the living conditions in South Africa. What we need is a strong political will to do so.
• Mandla Nkomfe is the deputy chairperson of the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation.
For opinion and analysis consideration, e-mail Opinions@timeslive.co.za
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.