Life Under Democracy

DALE YUDELMAN

UN

DE

r D

EM

oc

rA

cY

YU

DE

LM

AN

DALE

9 781431 406135

ISBN 978-1-4314-0613-5www.jacana.co.za

IN A DIgItAL worLD rIDDLED wIth UNprEcEDENtED vIsUAL trAffIc,

LIfE UNDEr DEMocrAcY Is A provocAtIvE EssAY of coNtrAst

AND socIAL coMMENtArY ExEcUtED IN YUDELMAN’s INIMItAbLY EDgY

stYLE, IN cohorts wIth NEw-gENErAtIoN tEchNoLogY.

DALE YUDELMAN dumps the baggage

of oversized photographic equipment and

heads unbarred into the bottomless

aufaitness of the life to which we have

grown accustomed.

screaming like motherless newborns,

his images smack the life into what we so

easily perceive as ordinary… Yudelman

delivers a personal, sometimes scathing,

and often humorous account of our unruly

and evolving democracy.

In a digital world riddled with

unprecedented visual traffi c, Life under

Democracy is a provocative essay of

contrast and social commentary executed

in Yudelman’s inimitably edgy style, in

cohorts with new-generation technology.

A salient social documentary,

inoculated against sensationalism,

traditionalism and drudgery. A work that

invests in the power of smaller moments

and features intimate and ‘un-canned’

images of south Africans in their

eighteenth year of freedom. A series that

speaks with resounding clarity on how the

politics of the day fi lters into reality.

Dale Cover-FA.indd 1 2012/08/06 12:37 PM

DALE YUDELMAN

Dale Pre&Post-FA.indd 1 2012/08/06 3:38 PM

2

At a pavement café, behind dark, ever-present Ray-Bans, Yudelman sits

watching a woman walk down the sun-beaten road. With each step the

city’s pavements gnaw at her soles – vigorously testing the mettle of the

voluptuously proportioned Winnie-the-Pooh slippers adorning her feet.

Rising mid-Americano, inwardly delighting at the colourfully shod

parade heading his way, he fumbles an apology and takes off after

the fl amboyant pair. Nobody minds the curt exit. Waiters instinctively

know he’ll be back; friends accept that being in his vicinity places

them on a permanent photo shoot.

Yudelman swings into his approaching-without-malice gait – best

described as an unaffected stroll. A casual air is a necessary posture

for a tall man about to converge on the path of a stranger.

For a while, he says nothing, keeping a safe, friendly following

distance. The entire odyssey – from noticing to the point of making

contact – has set off a mixture of purposeful calculation and a heady

desire to enthrone the pyjama-shoes in all their chunky, why-are-you-

on-this-pavement glory.

Inconsistent conditions and never-to-be repeated moments

are what make this uncertain playground an infi nitely compelling

storybook of unfolding possibilities.

After several decades of wielding an array of fi lm and later digital

cameras, considerations such as light, background and best angles are

calibrations that go on automatically in his brain.

The question of relevance hovers nearby, like a reliable but

overbearing parent. Undeterred, Yudelman stays close to the

fascination. Instinct tells him the bright yellow pavement specials

have an interesting tale to tell.

But fi rst, there is the matter of clearing some personal barriers:

his innate shyness and a culturally ingrained precept of respecting

the privacy of others. This is possibly the least comfortable moment of

street photography – striking up a conversation with an unknown entity.

By now, he has shadowed the woman far enough to gauge something

of her state of mind. She notices his genuine interest. Somehow they

begin to talk. And there on the tarmac, in the sunshine, a story unfolds.

In the fi rst few seconds, it’s about the warm weather, an easy

unifi er, they both experience this day as equals: it is on this even

plane that Yudelman prefers to keep this kind of interaction. Sensing

her openness, he compliments the celebrity slippers and asks if he

can take a picture with his phone.

Caught up in the playful web of his request, stopping for a

snapshot seems reasonably normal. After taking a few pics, he shows

her how they look, she’s happy they only reveal the smiley bears – and

not the face belonging to the scarred legs that have just left the day

clinic, about to carry her to a night shelter a couple of blocks away.

Dale Pre&Post-FA.indd 2 2012/08/13 8:14 AM

3

Quarrying for answers in the murky regions of the blindingly familiar

is what Dale Yudelman does best. In his testament of the lives of

fellow South Africans, in a country deep in the throes of a pubescent

democracy, people, events and even objects become part of

contemplative essays interpreting how front page news permeates into

the fabric of the collective experience.

Life under Democracy was inspired by the Ernest Cole exhibition

at the National Gallery in Cape Town, in February 2011. Cole’s images

feature life under apartheid. Yudelman’s series looks at life under

democracy after eighteen years of liberation.

Many of the images were shot in passing and are personal

daily reflections, while others involve more deliberate excursions.

In Life under Democracy, Yudelman returns to the areas he

photographed in the eighties, for the series Suburbs in Paradise,

which cross-examines white suburbia under the influence of

legislated segregation.

To gain perspective, he also visits some of the people and areas

Cole photographed. A sense of how much has changed begins to

develop and, in some cases, how much has stayed the same.

In a country where old anger is amplified by new barriers

imposed in the course of its almost two decades of democratic

rule, where infringements of power and corruption bear the same

watermark as the injustices of apartheid, the question he asks is:

How would Mr Cole feel about the freedom he dedicated his life

to achieving?

As if in conversation, Yudelman uses his iPhone camera as a means

of discourse. The senses are unified through a device historically

utilised for discussion, in turn mirroring the merging of a nation whose

past is omnipresent.

His images easily bear the burden of portraying issues and feelings

as distinctly as if they were actual objects. Transforming the social

experience into knowable, tangible material where the viewer gains

access to the emotion of the moment, enables further research along

tributaries feeding the cause or circumstance.

Yudelman’s observations are benefited by a photographic career

beginning in the late seventies, starting out as a photojournalist for The

Star newspaper at the height of the political turmoil in South Africa.

For the past fifteen years his focus has been on his personal work,

with exhibitions shown in galleries around the world. His artistic bent

for decoding social landscapes is fully realised in the art space –

producing work infused with a quirky visual vernacular.

Life under Democracy reveals a nation learning to live beyond the

confines and within the liberties of two opposing systems: the first,

extinct but not silenced; the second, crafted with the highest hopes

of freedom in mind. The story is of our response and participation in

realising the full extent of those dreams as viewed through the eyes of

a well-versed protagonist.

His experiences of past and present set the co-ordinates for this

self-imposed brief. Yudelman scours the foreground of the public

domain, where he taps into the backstory, looking for less tangible

indicators of change.

The opening image presents the first democratic ballot paper

issued in 1994. Eighteen years later this early relic of freedom is

considered old enough to be sold along with other memorabilia in an

antique store, its price tag serving as a reminder of the time when the

idea of a democratic South Africa was, for the oppressed, a prized

imperative; for others, a dangerous idea: and for all, a highly charged

proposition in the silhouette of a prejudiced unknown.

A sprawling cultural diversity as profound and disparate as South

Africa’s is no more obvious than at heritage sites. While the history

is based on the same facts, the similarities begin to disappear when

examining the emotional content of memories and the impact they

have on the psyches of different ethnic groups.

The series gives an insight into the challenges of remembering

the past and understanding the scale of what is implied in finding

meaningful validation for all. Among such jagged recollections: one

man’s hero is another man’s villain – where even God is not innocent.

At the other end of the rainbow, Yudelman highlights a child

playfully hanging from the rifle of an unknown Boer soldier, a statue

at the Paul Kruger Monument in Church Square, Tshwane. The child

almost blends into the sculpture, becoming a living addendum to the

bronzed past (p21).

Straddling the impressions of our adolescent democracy, Yudelman

gives a lucid account of the socio-political topography with all its

awkward insecurities, frustrations and rebelliousness. Within these

reflections, we see the concerns of a fledgling nation afraid to be seen

to be becoming like its betrayers; and how these replications in some

instances already go beyond a prediction.

The assertion of a new national identity, complicated by a

disfiguring and dysfunctional past, is currently pock-marked by greed,

corruption, high levels of unemployment and dropping standards in

healthcare, education and general living.

As much as he points out and celebrates individuals within the

multitudes, confident in their full and unrestrained national voice,

applying for equality, in search of equilibrium and a sense of worth,

so he also refers to the angst of a country – in and out of step with

an evolving understanding of itself: the practice and the concept of

democratic freedom.


4

Studying the emergent horizon, the work gives a transactional

analysis of the scale of cultural exchange required, and the

subcutaneous issues of racial division. It reviews the chasms created

by the racial segregationist policies of the apartheid government,

which led to South Africans becoming economically and culturally

dualistic and disassociated.

The signs and symbols pictured in the series reference inter-cultural

engagements and present responses in surprising places: a woman

wearing Orlando Pirates earrings – a sport and team better known in this

country for its predominantly black male supporters (p181).

Another image that uses this style of referencing is ‘woman and

doll’ (p91). Here the image provides a gateway to the complicated

levels of social integration, which, while essentially portraying a

positive shift, is also laced with ambivalence around white people

adopting black babies. The price on the doll flaunts the idea that it is

easier to adopt a black child, as there are many more black children

up for adoption due to poverty and the problem of an ever-escalating

number of AIDS orphans. Although this practice is quite accepted,

there are still the concerns around children losing their cultural

heritage through cross-cultural adoptions.

Life under Democracy unravels a succession of stories within

a story; a multi-layered transcription articulated with an effortless

visual fluency. Yudelman is not merely quoting from reality, but, like

any good storyteller, allowing his subjects to describe themselves.

Revelling in the spontaneous spirit of South Africans, the work mirrors

a nation full of promise and an extraordinary ability to be expansive.

In spite of the difficulties they experience, and sometimes

because of the on-going challenges, their lives are a compelling

demonstration of strength and unfettered resilience in the face

of boundless uncertainty. Values become apparent through the

portrayal of the spaces in which they work and pray, what they

eat and where they shop. The essay draws attention to profound

instances of devotion in caring for fellow citizens; impossible

miracles requiring enormous strength of character; and a capacity

for nerve-straining enterprise.

Yudelman began experimenting with the concept of using his

iPhone for documentary images shortly before the inaugural Ernest

Cole Award was announced. On winning the award, he made a point –

as part of the Life under Democracy series – to visit Mamelodi Township

where Cole grew up (p217).

During his meeting with the Kole1 family members – some of

whom still live in the same house – he was introduced to Moses

Mogale, now a well-known jazz musician and music teacher in the

community (p193).

The iPhone camera finds its destiny providentially and immutably

altered in Yudelman’s masterful hands. Throughout the series he

utilises the square-format hipstamatic app which simulates the effects

of the old-fashioned disposable film and Polaroid cameras. Designed

to produce the unpredictable results of the early darkroom, it randomly

saturates the image with colour, or washes it out. With a selection of

built-in digitised retro lenses, films and flashes, it conjures up some of

the alchemy of the once highly chemical process of developing.

The intensified field created by the formatting matches Life under

Democracy’s investment in interpreting the fine print of daily life.

Unhindered by oversized equipment, he achieves a visual rapport that

is exquisite and robust all at once. His portraits are vibrant, poetic

studies of the constant stream of conversation between people and

their environment – intimate disclosures of the interior realm of his

subjects spilling into view.

Using spatially compelling compositions, Yudelman maintains a

tight grip on the material world by limiting the amount of information

in the image.

Intrigued by the ironies of life he invites the viewer to share his

amusement at the contradictions that surround us. ‘Protests’ (p28)

shows the second day of heavily-supported protest action in Cape Town.

Demonstrators in full cry are about to go on a blind rampage. In the

scene, to the left of the crowd and from his position in the middle of the

drama, he still manages to throw in a headline from the previous day,

which reads, ‘Municipal strike gets off to a SLOW start.’ It is at these

junctures that Yudelman ambushes what might have been a straight

photojournalistic shot and successfully expands the image to include a

mischievous comment on mass media and its defining role within reality.

Commanding subtleties form powerful optical snares in league

with Yudelman’s ethics of eschewing brash imagery (unless absolutely

required), allowing what he chooses to leave out of the frame to speak

as distinctly as what he chooses to include.

From the floor of a flea market in Cape Town, he invokes a chilling

omen commenting on the fate of the rhino – a wooden statuette of

the pre-historic creature with the horn missing (p74). Impossible

conversations, spanning alternate dimensions, are a defining feature

in this series: the viewer is easily guided to the place where what is

salient is not overshadowed by sensationalism.

Photographing on the street means that a considerable amount of

his time is spent sifting through the clenched reality of everydayness,

always in search of yet another clarifying dimension. His images

reveal the rich chronicles that flow beneath the surface of the flurried

ordinary. It is within the backdrop of these surprisingly regular mirrors

that we see ourselves with heightened clarity.

1. Cole, born Kole, managed to have himself reclassified as ‘coloured’ in order to evade the Pass Laws restricting the movement of black people.


5

1. Freedom, 1974 | 2. The Star press card, 1979 | 3. Wits University protest, 1982 | 4. Transformation invitation, 1984 | 5. Livestock – collaboration with

Arlene Amaler-Raviv, 2003 | 6. Reality Bytes, 2002 | 7. i am… 2007 | 8. Made in RSA, 2010 | 9. Suburbs in Paradise, 1983 | 10. In a City, 2011

1

4

2

5 6

7

9

3

10

8


6

The viewer’s question might be: ‘How do we walk past the same

thing and not see this?’ The answer points to the integrity of the

storyteller’s unflinchingly sensitive gaze, the nearness of our own

isolation and our estrangement from what surrounds us.

This realisation is not for the observer to bear alone. Yudelman’s

unique viewpoint remains a reliable presence throughout; a redeeming

dose of sanity. Just as things become too stark he zooms in on a

security guard wearing a maroon beret, standing beside a newspaper

billboard that exclaims, ‘Malema berets sell like hot cakes’ (p116).

Yudelman is a credible witness: fascinated enough to invest in the

smaller slices of life in search of a greater truth. Seeking to interpret

the many facets of shared experience, he displays a willingness to

interact and the patience to be constantly noticing.

Having a camera conveniently lodged in his phone, Yudelman is

prone to replace words with images. In company he can appear to be

distant, preferring to live the emotional content of his life through

his photographs. It is in his work that his infinitely social nature

becomes apparent.

Except for indulging a lifelong appetite for rock music,

Yudelman’s time is spent on a career-sustaining assortment of visual

excursions – art galleries, spending time at flea markets and antique

stores searching for collectibles, with a particular interest in the

design elements of retro packaging and signage.

Despite an above-average aversion to large noisy gatherings and

an inclination to expend as few words as possible, he is popular in

academia and at photographic conventions for delivering dry-witted,

insightful talks and lectures on his craft.

Part of the appeal lies in his technical agility and his capacity to

talk about Photoshop and digital post production as knowledgeably as

traditional wet-finger photography. Committed to creating images that

penetrate reality, Yudelman remains a close conspirator of the ongoing

advances within the medium. His overriding ethic, regardless of the

equipment he is using is: ‘Keep it interesting.’

From the outset, circumstances seemed to pre-empt destiny, with

photography making an early claim on Yudelman’s soul. As a toddler,

his nursery doubled as a darkroom for his father, Louis Yudelman.

Family legend has it that the residual chemicals from those early days

got into his bloodstream, and firmly inculcated a life-long passion for

image making.

He first began taking pictures with a vintage Argus C3, at age 10,

and was later given an Asahi Pentax 35 mm at 14. In his early teens,

he and his father, still a well-respected and practicing photographer,

attended camera club meetings together at the public library in

Johannesburg.

His mother, the late Evelyn Yudelman, was highly creative, well

known for her glasswork and mosaic murals. She took great pride in

her son’s blossoming talent and, in his youth, the two went on regular

excursions into the countryside looking for stimulating subject matter.

The nurturing support of both his parents has played a powerful role

throughout his career.

At 16 he won the National Schools Photographic Salon with

a photograph of his mother running through the woods. At 17, he

became the youngest associate of the Photographic Society of

South Africa.

Before he turned 20, Yudelman held his first solo exhibition

at the Pentax Gallery in Rosebank, Johannesburg and in 1984, he

held a fondly-remembered group exhibition (Transformation) with his

father and two brothers, at the Market Theatre Gallery in Newtown,

Johannesburg.

From 1979, he worked at The Star newspaper as a staff

photographer until his departure from South Africa in 1986, after

becoming disillusioned when the apartheid government declared a

state of emergency and harsh censorship laws were imposed on the

media. First moving to London and later Los Angeles, he freelanced

for various newspapers, design agencies and magazines, before

returning to South Africa a decade later.

The focal point of Yudelman’s career, since his return, has been to

produce images extracted from his immediate environment and prompted

by the belief that there is enough to talk about in his own back yard.

Having been showcased in over seventy exhibitions locally and

internationally, Yudelman’s photographs are held in many private and

corporate collections worldwide.

The work is a consequence of a studied eye, brokered over

30 years of constant image making. Enthralled with the many-layered

dimensions of reality, his anthology of images is a manifestation of

how modern photography is able to escape the bounds of the ‘record’,

creating an authentic and evocative account of recent times.

– Simone Tredoux


Dale Setting-FA.indd 9 2012/08/06 4:05 PM

10 Electronic information board – Houses of Parliament – Cape Town


11President Jacob Zuma election poster – Imizamo Yethu, Hout Bay, Cape Town


12 Old South African flag on badges – Day of Reconciliation – Voortrekker Monument, Tshwane


30 Striking municipal workers loot vendor’s stall – Cape Town


31Yudelman appears on front page of Cape Times – Cape Town


32 Newspaper billboards – Cape Town, Johannesburg, Tshwane


33


116 Arthur Mzingisi – Newspaper House – Cape Town


117Mthungameli – Boksburg


118 Security cameras – Hout Bay, Cape Town


119Air freshener – Voortrekker Monument toilet – Tshwane


190 Cassette tape – Milnerton fleamarket – Cape Town


191Musician – Cape Town | Nevis Cameron – Melville, Johannesburg | Derick Mokwena – Johannesburg | Musician – Kalk Bay, Cape Town


Sakie Ndala – Mamelodi192


193Sakie Ndala – Mamelodi Moses Mogale – Jazz musician – Mamelodi


220 Book – Milnerton fleamarket – Cape Town


221Nelson Mandela Square – Day of Reconciliation – Sandton City, Johannesburg


99

The Ernest Cole Photography Award is a new award in South Africa,

initiated under the auspices of the University of Cape Town Libraries,

offering a unique opportunity for photographers to complete an existing

project. The award, named after documentary photographer Ernest Cole,

was made possible by the generous support of the Peter Brown Trust, the

Gavin Relly Educational Trust, the Kirsch Family Trust and Orms.

Ernest Cole was born in South Africa in 1940 and received his fi rst

camera as a gift from a clergyman. Before leaving South Africa in the

mid 1960s he worked as a photojournalist for Drum magazine, sharing a

darkroom and friendship with photographer Struan Robertson. On his own

initiative Cole undertook a comprehensive photographic essay in which he

showed what it meant to be black under apartheid. Out of this came the

book, The House of Bondage, which was published in New York in 1967,

and immediately banned in South Africa. He never returned to South

Africa and died in exile in New York in 1990.

Cole was a courageous documentarian who at times risked his life

to share his imagery with the world. ‘He wasn’t just brave. He wasn’t just

enterprising. He was a supremely fi ne photographer,’ said David Goldblatt,

the renowned South African photographer.

The Ernest Cole Photography Award has been established to stimulate

in-depth photography in South Africa, with an emphasis on creative

responses to South African society, human rights and justice. The

award is open to anyone whose work looks at South African society, with

preference being given to people living within the country. The purpose

of the award is to support the realisation of a signifi cant body of work with

which the photographer has been engaged. For more information please

see www.ernestcoleaward.org.

THE

ERNEST COLE

PHOTOGRAPHY AWARD


This edition first published by Jacana

Media (Pty) Ltd in 2012

10 Orange Street

Sunnyside

Auckland Park 2092

South Africa

(+27 11) 628 3200

www.jacana.co.za

© 2012 photographs: Dale Yudelman

© 2012 text: Simone Tredoux

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-4314-0613-5

Also available as an e-book

d-PDF ISBN 978-1-4314-0614-2

Design and layout by mr design

Set in TradeGothic 8.5 pt

Printed by Ultra Litho, Johannesburg

www.daleyudelman.com


DALE YUDELMAN

UN

DE

r D

EM

oc

rA

cY

YU

DE

LM

AN

DALE

9 781431 406135

ISBN 978-1-4314-0613-5www.jacana.co.za

IN A DIgItAL worLD rIDDLED wIth UNprEcEDENtED vIsUAL trAffIc,

LIfE UNDEr DEMocrAcY Is A provocAtIvE EssAY of coNtrAst

AND socIAL coMMENtArY ExEcUtED IN YUDELMAN’s INIMItAbLY EDgY

stYLE, IN cohorts wIth NEw-gENErAtIoN tEchNoLogY.

DALE YUDELMAN dumps the baggage

of oversized photographic equipment and

heads unbarred into the bottomless

aufaitness of the life to which we have

grown accustomed.

screaming like motherless newborns,

his images smack the life into what we so

easily perceive as ordinary… Yudelman

delivers a personal, sometimes scathing,

and often humorous account of our unruly

and evolving democracy.

In a digital world riddled with

unprecedented visual traffi c, Life under

Democracy is a provocative essay of

contrast and social commentary executed

in Yudelman’s inimitably edgy style, in

cohorts with new-generation technology.

A salient social documentary,

inoculated against sensationalism,

traditionalism and drudgery. A work that

invests in the power of smaller moments

and features intimate and ‘un-canned’

images of south Africans in their

eighteenth year of freedom. A series that

speaks with resounding clarity on how the

politics of the day fi lters into reality.

Dale Cover-FA.indd 1 2012/08/06 12:37 PM

Documents

Life Under Democracy