The Problem With Joburg Creatives

When the Work Loses its "Why"

Johannesburg has long presented itself as a cultural power house: restless, layered and politically inclined. From protest theatre to experimental fashion, from kwaito to contemporary visual art, the city’s creative legacy is rooted in urgency and intent. Yet within much of today’s creative scene, there is a growing disconnect between the work being produced and the reasons it exists at all. The problem is not a lack of talent or access, but a crisis of purpose.

The Death of Research and Curiosity

At the core of this disconnect is the gradual disappearance of research as a serious practice. Research is increasingly being viewed as an aesthetic shortcut rather than a discipline: a mood board, a few references, a buzzword-filled statement. Deep engagement with history, theory and lived experience is now optional.

This is important because research is more than just academic labor; it requires an ethical commitment. Without it, work floats free of context, repeating old ideas through new lenses. When artists stop asking why something exists, who it serves and what it responds to, creativity becomes decorative rather than interrogative.

Where Is the Social Commentary?

We would be kidding ourselves if we said Joburg is a neutral city. It is shaped by inequality, migration, violence, desire, resistance and survival. Historically, its artists have responded directly to these realities. Today, most of the creative projects seem strangely disengaged from the social conditions that make the city what it is.

This absence of commentary does not signal neutrality, it signals comfort. When creatives avoid political or social responsibility, it is often because critique threatens access, funding or social capital. The result is work that is visually polished but intellectually hollow: content that circulates well online but says very little

Culture as Costume

One of the most troubling patterns in the scene is the way culture is mined rather than understood. Wealthier creatives (often insulated from the material realities of the communities they reference) borrow aesthetics, language and symbols without accountability. There’s a big difference between being inspired by someone’s culture and profiting off of it.

Culture becomes a costume: something to be worn, then discarded. The people whose lives give these aesthetics significance are rarely centered, acknowledged, or financially rewarded. This is not collaboration, it is extraction. And it reinforces the same inequalities that art so often claims to challenge.

Queer Stories, Straight Profit

A similar dynamic plays out in the commodification of queer narratives. Queer pain, joy and resistance are increasingly used as raw material by straight men who face none of the social risks attached to these identities.

The issue is not that straight creatives should never engage queer stories, but that they often do so without humility, accountability, or redistribution of power. When representation becomes a branding strategy than a responsibility, it strips queer narratives of their political force and turns them into marketable trends.

Cliques and Creative Flattening

Social media has intensified the formation of creative cliques; tight circles that validate one another, recycle the same references and reward conformity. These networks offer protection and opportunity but also stifle risk leading to these creatives forgetting their responsibility to motivate and inspire. Belonging becomes more important than integrity. Over time, the scene starts to feel smaller, not larger - dominated by a few recurring faces, styles and narratives.

Ironically, many of these creatives are deeply compelling as individuals. In isolation, they are thoughtful, curious and complex. But within group settings, that complexity often collapses.

Group dynamics encourage performance: the right opinions, the right aesthetics, the right alliances. Difference becomes dangerous. As a result, individuality is traded for acceptance and the work suffers.

Dunusa: A Test That Many Failed

Dunusa was more than a venue, it was a cultural infrastructure built by and for black and queer creatives, a space that offered visibility, opportunity and community in a city that routinely erases both.

When it was shut down there were few public statements, little organized resistance, no sustained creative or political response. This was a litmus test for whether the scene truly believes in the spaces, narratives and communities it profits from. For many, Dunusa was valuable only when it functioned as a backdrop. Once it required defense, it became expendable.

But as many people remain silent, it is a breath of fresh air when creatives like Mickyle Berling (@mickyleberling_) take a stand - she wrote her Master's thesis on the Dunusa market, exploring how the second-hand market, its traders, and thrift culture weave Johannesburg's forgotten spaces into "living architecture."

Toward a Reconnection

The solution is not nostalgia for a “better” past, nor moral purity. It is a return to intentionality. Joburg creatives must relearn how to research deeply, engage ethically, and position their work within the realities of the city they claim to represent.

This means asking uncomfortable questions, sharing power, and accepting that good work may not always be popular or profitable. It means valuing substance over access and purpose over proximity.

Until the work reconnects with its why, Joburg’s creative scene will continue to look busy, stylish and hollow - full of movement, but going nowhere.