We have a running inside joke amongst the Moyé staff: “It’s much more fun on the inside.” Whatever we have posted for public consumption, what we have let you in on, is just the tip of the iceberg. A butterfly flaps its wings at Moyé headquarters, and we document the rain the typhoon left behind.
When Okay, It’s Recording was created, it was a way to map the creative ecosystem. We wanted to understand what was possible for 1 us in the creative world, who did what, and how we could get there to locate our seats at the table. I think that I gained more from Okay, It’s Recording than just an inside scoop. I have developed skills and ways of thinking that are now immeasurable and inseparable from my creative process. Skills beyond those I can put on a CV that I still learned on the job. Yes, I can pick up any editing software quickly, adapt to most cameras that aren’t mine, and creatively direct and edit. The most valuable lessons, the ones that have become integral to me, are those I learned away from my laptop and the camera.
Okay, It’s Recording became a good excuse to gallivant around Johannesburg. When the camera was off, Johannesburg found a way to infuse itself into me. It was the truth of where we resided. It became more than a setting, but a love, a muse, a host for umoya. And I experienced it myself. Okay, It’s Recording took us to the rooftop of August House, where we stayed after a long interview, admiring the cityscape. My friends and the interviewee, Leigh Le Roux, spoke of art, what it means to be a student, how the artist perceives time, anime, wise and sustainable cannabis use, and some things off the record. Le Roux gave us the best advice for following our spark. To this day, I remember the way he sighed when he spoke of the ways Joburg’s skin wore murals and the many ways illustrations can house narratives. It was the exhale of a man reawakened by passion. For a week, Joburg was all walls, walls, walls. And I developed a steadier illustrative practice.
It took us to interview The Brother Moves On’s Siyabonga Mthembu in a bar in Melville. Most of his good advice was recorded, but I remember he told me never to lose my gall. I remember packing up the camera, the sun in my eyes, when he asked Mphoentle and me what we wanted to become. I told him I didn’t know and I’d keep going. “If you’re approaching life like that, trust me, you’ll be just fine.” Encouragement does not come easily, especially to people like me—Black women. There was an impressiveness that came with something like Okay, it's Recording. Accolades, to those we interviewed, support from my staff, and skill-sharing, that I didn’t get from anywhere else.
Of course, some of the best teaching moments don’t happen pleasantly. Okay, It’s Recording once took us backstage to a band’s gig. This was the first time I got the inkling that interviewing should not be my primary practice. Firstly, the lead singer of the band kept referring to Ashley as the mastermind of Moyé. No matter how many times Ashley directed him to speak to me, he would only refer to her. I just jogged it up to the nature of this particular white band and made a note to myself to vet the bands we interview more so as not to interview microaggressive racists.
Later their lead singer’s girlfriend pulled out a cigarette—from where, I don’t know. She was pressing a plastic tumbler with ice on her cheek—in the night chill of early July. Her hand was shaking and blue. She was talking—no pauses—about how amazing it was that her boyfriend’s band was being interviewed. I was impressed by how she could smoke and talk miles per minute, about how amazing it is to be young, talented, and present. She went on and on about how cool it was that her boyfriend was in a band and how she was watching him look cool while we were being interviewed. We were all giggling at her performance of the “rockstar’s girlfriend.” I saw the band members roll their eyes. I saw her boyfriend chuckle with embarrassment. But she spoke with such earnestness and poetry that I wanted to hear her rapid-fire speech again. Ashley and I looked for that footage forever, still unable to find it, we are heartbroken. I wanted to interview her—a poet unrealised. I remember thinking “You and I, why are we behind the camera?” I tried to see if we had gotten footage of her saying that. I’m not sure if we lost the footage or not.
So, if this was such a growing experience, and if it holds such power to bring more experiences, why end it now?
I knew. I just knew. But what broke the camel’s back was when Neil Gaiman came across my TikTok FYP.
After getting over the initial excited shock of being seen by Neil Gaiman and being delusional that this one thing we shared might be a sign that I am destined for literary greatness, I took what resonated and left what didn’t.
What parts do I mourn, and what parts do I grow from?
Okay, It’s Recording made me brave. I could talk to, DM, or email anyone and ask for their time. I was never out of my depth because I had a licence to be anywhere I wanted to be. Talk to whomever. There was power, even just a little, in it. I learnt to play with dynamics. I learnt how to layer experiences, and how to set the conditions for an interview. What difference does it make to interview someone from the green room of a festival while they still have adrenaline or a musician in their studio? I also used it as a litmus test for places I was too afraid to go. This was my yellow canary.
That passion that all our interviewees speak with, I do not possess it for interviewing. It will come in handy, but it is taking too much time from us.
I can get anybody to talk. I might not record it in the way we were, but trust me: I will continue to make them talk. But it did give me and the staff an excuse to be an audience instead of craftspeople.
This type of journalism gave me perspective. But I can’t let this be my main practice. I can’t let this be the bread and butter for Moyé. In some cases, it has gotten in front of my other artistic pursuits. After I caught inspiration for a new short story, I would have to go home to edit soundbites for social media rather than write something new because of the deadline. At a friend’s birthday, I had to ask the host to lend me an extra room, and I edited through the height of a party. These times taught me dedication, but it can’t be my life.
Okay, It’s Recording that brought things out of me. Now, I am a keen watcher. It sharpened my skills as an observer of the human character. I know how to work with it. There is substance in what wasn’t recorded. The conversation in the back room. What’s off-record. And now I understand what we created. Okay, It’s Recording: the inciting incident, resting ground, comfort zone for the emerging, tired, and scared.
You will be missed.
Your Editor
Noku
Please Note: Although this obituary was published in July, it was first written and printed on June 23, 2024 and was presented on June 27 , 2024 for my Fine Arts course, including a video insert featuring Neil Gaiman. To my knowledge, the statements and news articles about Neil Gaiman’s sexual allegations emerged on July 5, 2024. Like many of you, I found his writing inspirational during my formative years. However, I neither ignore or take light the allegations against him. Please stay informed by reading multiple sources.
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