Looking back in black and white to see more clearly

Photo albums are a portal to another time — in which we might not even have been alive — and they allow us to find out more about people and spaces.

- Lesego Chepape

That’s how I got to know that my mother was more than just my mother. Before she was the woman who packed my lunch and reminded me to take a jersey, she was a young girl, a student, a dreamer. She had secrets and desires captured in the grain of 35mm film.

She kept those rolls of film hidden in a cupboard that also held her ID book, her old payslips and an expired passport. It was a sacred place, guarded by dust and silence.

I would sneak into that drawer like a pilgrim seeking truth, pull out the strips of negatives, and hold them up to the light.

Through those tiny images, I saw her dancing barefoot at a house party, smiling in oversized sunglasses, standing next to strangers who looked like friends. Those glimpses into her past softened me. I loved her more tenderly, knowing where she came from.

That memory came rushing back when I stepped into the In Black and White analogue photographic exhibition at the UJ FADA Gallery. I was twenty minutes late — blame the Joburg traffic — but as soon as I walked in, time slowed down.