Here are the facts: ArtThrob was started by Sue Williamson as a website in August 1997, just before the opening of the second Johannesburg Biennale. For the past 25 years, ArtThrob has been reporting on the national arts scene and the involvement of South African artists in the international art world. It has witnessed the births and deaths of many galleries and institutions, the peaks and valleys of many artists’ careers, and the nooks and crannies of visual culture in a country trying to make sense of its ever-unravelling history and ever-shifting identity. As Sean O’Toole once noted, “It is older than blank projects, SMAC, Stevenson, WHATIFTHEWORLD and a host of other vanguard retail galleries. It has been around the block, and then some. It predates the Cape Town Art Fair, Art Joburg, Latitudes and Turbine Art Fair… It outlasted Art Ventilator, Art South Africa, Contempo, One Small Seed, The Lake, Adjective and a host of other snazzy print magazines about art.” 

Since the beginning, ArtThrob has had two missions: to develop a robust culture of thinking and writing about South African art that is free and accessible, and to support writers who dedicate their intellectual output to enriching the discourse of South African art. The website has given a voice to young writers on art, many of whom have had few other outlets for their skills; articles and reviews by noted critics and art historians have also added to the discourse. Many who have gone on to become prominent academics, artists, curators, thinkers and writers published in ArtThrob at some point in their careers. I could drop names (and, in some sense, the back cover of this book is an exercise in name-dropping), but, ultimately, ArtThrob is not a manufacturer of prestige. 

I’d argue that ArtThrob is special specifically because it is not prestigious. It is provincial, in the best sense of that word, in that it is made by and for a community. It is a publication that, come rain or shine, chronicles what is happening in South African art, from the ephemeral pop up show to the grandiose museum retrospective. This is why, I think, ArtThrob may be seen as inconsequential in the day to day, but is, in fact, profound in its aggregative effect, providing an indispensable, collated record of art history over the past quarter of a century. While the rest of the media landscape chases after the profitability of clicks and controversies, ArtThrob rewards a community of faithful who care enough to think carefully and urgently about art making in this country.

The reason why ArtThrob has survived countless stumbles and struggles is not because it has developed a successful business model, but because it has cultivated a steady stream of devoted readers, passionate writers and dedicated editors. It stands today as a testament to curiosity, critical thinking and the undying pursuit of art. If this foreword is bordering on the fervorous, it is because I am one of the zealots who believes that art is more important than us, that we are servants unto it when we are generous with our time and our language. Former editor Michael Smith once remarked, albeit jokingly, that art criticism was like the “geeky little brother” of art making. I disagree. To paraphrase my friend Shona van der Merwe, writing is what consecrates that which art practice and curatorship hopes to achieve.

Now, I should probably share some notes on my methodology: over six months, I read every single article ever published on ArtThrob, keeping track of those that felt interesting to me. The reason why this book is organised chronologically, as opposed to thematically, is to capture the sense of serendipitous discovery I felt as I journeyed my way through the archive. I then sifted through those and pulled out the articles which I felt stepped out of the traditional ‘review’ to take a temperature of the broader social, political and art historical climate. From that selection, I narrowed it down even further. This book reproduces about sixty articles from an archive some thousands strong. 

As for the curation of this chronology, there is no real throughline. Rather, I imagined the mixtape to be my organising principle. The same way a playlist can span various genres and eras by linking together subtle motifs in songs, this book connects one essay to the next by following undercurrent themes. My attempt was to create a reading experience that could touch on many different voices and ideas without jumping all over the place. Even so, this book might feel a bit all over the place compared to more encyclopaedic or retrospective books on South African art. I embrace this. I love all that is spontaneous and reflexive about the writing in our archive. 

To that end, many of the essays in this anthology are of their time; they do not necessarily reflect the writers’ present-day opinions and beliefs. The reason why I have made this potentially unpopular decision – that is, the decision to revive some heated debates or dredge up some old grudges – is because I am interested in the politics of the artworld. Politics is, to borrow from Teju Cole, “a matter of discourse and discursive compromise.” In revisiting our archive, I was interested as much in what or whom was written about as I was in how it was written. Without this discourse, art is just another form of hegemony. 

It was discourse, not hegemony, that I wanted to capture in this anthology, which is why some of the big names in our industry might not be as prominent as one might expect. Moreover, this publication could not include so many incredible writers, artists, spaces and stories that have graced the ‘pages’ of ArtThrob over the years. I encourage anyone interested to seek them out in our archive, which is freely accessible on our website. There is so much to learn, discover and appreciate. This book is just the tip of the iceberg. 

December 2022

Please join us for the launch of ArtThrob: 25 Years of Art Writing in South Africa on Saturday, 6 May at A4 Arts Foundation in Cape Town. The launch will feature short talks by our founder, Sue Williamson, former editors Sean O’Toole and Matthew Blackman and current editor Keely Shinners. Email janos@a4arts.org to reserve your seat. Otherwise, you can order a copy of the book here.