This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

27th June 2009

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Cartoons and cartoonists have been much in the news (and in the courtroom) recently. But, as numbers are bandied about – two lawsuits, seven million rand and so on – there is one figure that should not be forgotten: fifty. That’s how many years South Africans have known and loved “Jojo”.

This affable character was created by Len Sak in 1959 and appeared first in Drum magazine, then the World newspaper and subsequently the Post and the Sowetan. In the 1980s, Jojo had his own TV show on SABC 2 and, in celebration of Jojo’s half-century, a selection of the images produced for this series now form the basis of an exhibition currently on display at the Standard Bank Gallery in Johannesburg.

Jojo is many things – passive observer of township life; social commentator; educator (he was involved in voter education before the 1994 elections and has since turned his attention to HIV/AIDS and the prevention of cholera); activist (a staunch advocate of literacy and numeracy campaigns, he has also spoken out against domestic abuse); even economist (criticising the textile imports that have resulted in so many job losses at local clothing factories).

Above all, of course, he is good-humoured. With his small shock of “Afro” hair on an otherwise bald egg of a head, his trademark braces holding up black trousers that barely stretch around his large waist, his white shirt bulging over his paunch and his spindly legs, Jojo is an inherently comical character who presides over the lighter side of city living.

He guides clumsy would-be suitors (both men and women) through their romantic successes and failures. He keeps a respectful distance from oversized, domineering mamas. He notes the foibles and follies of those pursuing leisure activities at racecourses, in boxing rings, on soccer fields and even in body-building competitions. He chuckles at township dogs that only bark at white people.

Jojo’s large, open face indicates the sympathetic attitude he has towards his fellow South Africans – but he is not everyone’s friend. Jojo has no time for pushy salesmen, inept government officials, negligent parents, abusive men and greedy or opportunistic businesspeople. Indeed, one of the interesting features of this exhibition is that current social and economic issues (such as the repossession of goods bought on credit) are addressed in images that date back to 1985.

The Standard Bank Gallery’s practice is to host two exhibitions simultaneously and it is intriguing to consider the ways in which these are in dialogue with one another. At the moment, while Jojo’s anniversary is commemorated downstairs, visitors to the gallery walk upstairs into Nontsikelelo Veleko’s “Wonderland”.

Like Sak, Veleko records everyday urban life. The difference, however, is that her subjects do not represent collective identities; instead, her photographs depict individuals who stand out from the crowd. Their colourful clothing and quirky fashion senses, their cheeky or defiant facial expressions and their earnest or playful poses distinguish them from their environments (the streets of Cape Town, Durban and Johannesburg). Alternatively, the distinctive environment itself is the subject: murals, public art, signs in offices, poster-covered bedroom walls.

In his introduction to the catalogue of “Wonderland”, John Fleetwood writes of “a tension between an imagined construction of life and the reality in which many young South Africans find themselves”, suggesting that Veleko’s work considers the interplay of “manufactured identities” and the social “moulds” SA’s youth are expected to fit into.

Referring to her previous work – investigating androgyny in pantsula culture or documenting the “political statements, professions and banalities” of graffiti artists – Fleetwood notes that Veleko’s interest in those who have “consciously defined and constructed” their individuality stems from her own frustration with “living in the Jo’burg city centre where the identity that she had created for herself was rejected”. Hence the wariness, even cynicism, regarding assumptions about race and culture expressed in her fabricated URL www.notblackenough.lolo.

Of course, original or unique self-fashioning is nearly impossible; many of the citizens in Veleko’s wonderland have derivative identities that mimic or borrow from globalised popular culture. Brand names are ubiquitous: Nokia, Smirnoff, KIA, Versace, FHM, Puma.

Nevertheless, set against the artificial grassy lawns, ivy covered swings and photographs of fairytale castles that decorate the exhibition space, these images of actual (if unusual) people living in contemporary SA suggest that Fleetwood’s claim on Veleko’s behalf is valid: “imagined personas” can “infiltrate the ‘real’ world” and we discover that “these carefully constructed identities have been true and real all along.”