The second beneficiary of the Positive Activism initiative is the social justice co-operative #paythegrants , a grassroots collective created to advocate for the rights of millions of people unable to access the Covid 19 Social Relief of Distress (SRD) Grant. The SRD grant was created to help millions of people in South Africa, but the administration of the grant has been hugely problematic, excluding many from accessing the assistance that they had been promised and so desperately needed. We worked with the #paythegrants team to put together a simple and informative website with clear details about their campaign. We also included a series of stories about the people affected by the various issues related to the grant application and distribution process. All of this was then repackaged as social media content and a long form article containing the stories of the human impact. We made this content over a very short period of time so that it would be ready for the court case on October 29th 2024 (read more below). We wanted the general public to have online access to the stories behind the case, and all of the information needed to understand the injustice of the issues; together with a place to contact them and give their support. #paythegrants is a grassroots organisation led with passion and determination by activists around the country. They get nothing from it other than the satisfaction of helping the wider community. Their focus is fairness and justice; and they stand as a voice for millions of people who are suffering due to insensitive and ill-considered bureaucracy. View the website we made for them here. Below is the article in full, first published in Daily Maverick in October 2024. In South Africa, the Social Relief of Distress (SRD) grant, introduced during the COVID-19 pandemic, now faces a critical legal challenge as calls grow for fairer and more inclusive social assistance. The Social Relief of Distress grant (SRD) was introduced during the Covid-19 pandemic and remained in place afterwards due to the ongoing distress caused by poverty, unemployment and hunger. Currently R370 (approx. £16) per month, the SRD grant, whilst small, could be a lifeline for many. However, there are significant injustices in the way the grant is currently administered. In 2023 the Institute for Economic Justice and #PayTheGrants initiated legal action against the South African government, challenging the exclusionary regulations surrounding the SRD grant. On Tuesday 29 October 2024, the hearing took place. The legal challenge highlights several critical issues that undermine the grant’s effectiveness and fairness. These include: Applications only being available online, excluding those without digital access and literacy; Means assessments that classify small personal loans, gifts and ad hoc payments, and payments received on behalf of others as income; Verification processes using outdated and incorrect databases; An appeals process that does not allow any new evidence; Payment delays to approved beneficiaries due to overly complex ID verification processes; Cancellation of pending payments after 90 days; Failure to adjust the grant value and means-test threshold for inflation; An inadequate budget cap that denies millions of eligible applicants, once the yearly budget is met. This case could set a crucial precedent for the future of social assistance in South Africa, potentially leading to broader reforms in the country’s social grant system to ensure that future programmes are fair, inclusive, and effective. These are the stories of ten people from two communities in Gauteng, Eldorado Park and Bekkersdaal, who rely on the grant to survive but have been left without payments or with too little to support themselves. UPDATE:   Legal Victory On the 23rd January 2025, the ruling was made that the application criteria to access the SRD grant was unconstitutional. The judge issued multiple directives to the the Department of Social Development and SASSA. Portrait of Vanessa Reece (© Thom Pierce 2024) Vanessa Reece As a diabetic with high blood pressure, Vanessa Reece needs to eat healthily, ideally vegetables and fresh fish. To do so is well outside of her budget of R370 a month from the SRD grant which also needs to cover household basics and bills. Instead, she is forced to survive on maize meal, potatoes and cheap junk food to counteract the hunger that is a side effect of her medication. Vanessa Reece at home in Eldorado Park (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Urika Pais (© Thom Pierce 2024) Urika Pais For two years Urika Pais has not received any grant payments because her partner, the father of their three kids, is visiting the DRC and is sending them R1,700 per month while he is away. These payments are considered a source of income, rating her ineligible for the nominal payment of R370 per month. “They have access to phone numbers and bank accounts, you give them the right to do everything. I tried to appeal, but it never works out. Applying and reapplying all costs money.” Urika Pais at home in Eldorado Park (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Tshepo Legoase (© Thom Pierce 2024) Tshepo Legoase Tshepo Legoase borrowed R800 from his older brother in June of this year. Since then, for the last four months, he has been rejected for the SRD grant based on having a “source of income”. Although he has tried to appeal, the sim card that he originally registered with has been lost, so he cannot receive the one-time confirmation PIN numbers that are sent to him. He says that there is no way to update his primary phone number and nobody to assist. Tshepo Legoase at home in Bekkersdal (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Tshegofatso Cawe (© Thom Pierce 2024) Tshegofatso Cawe At 20 years old, Tshegofatso Cawe lives with her mum and is studying Human Resource Management. She was hoping to be able to claim the R370 grant to help her with transport to get to and from college but she has been denied it on many occasions because her father occasionally sends her small amounts of money. Tshegofatso Cawe at home in Bekkersdal (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Oupa Maboke (© Thom Pierce 2024) Oupa Maboke Since the mines have closed, Oupa Maboke has been unable to find work. He has been waiting for unemployment insurance (UIF) payments for 8 months. Even though he is not receiving UIF, it's the reason that his R370 grant application is being rejected every month. With no support, he has no means to travel and increasingly less chance of finding a job. “I’m not surviving, I’m not coping. There is no income at all. I cannot see my kids because I cannot go empty-handed,”. Oupa Maboke at home in Bekkersdal (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of George Stigling (© Thom Pierce 2024) George Stigling After first applying for the grant in 2020, George Stigling had to upgrade his ID from a book to the more current smart card to comply with their verification process. The upgrade itself was costly and George had to borrow money from friends to afford it. After two years, the payment resumed but he has not received the 20 payments that he was entitled to, meaning he now has to navigate the insufficient appeals system to rectify the situation. George Stigling at home in Eldorado Park (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Elizabeth Raiters (© Thom Pierce 2024) Elizabeth Raiters Elizabeth Raiters is 48 years old and survives on donations from her family because she cannot receive the SRD grant that she has applied for. It is declined on a monthly basis because she gets a R300 data allocation for her voluntary work which is paid into her bank account. This is classed as a source of income and given as a reason to deny her monthly support. Elizabeth Raiters at home in Eldorado Park (© Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Charmain Martin ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Charmain Martin When Charmain Robertha’s husband passed away, she was left as the sole provider for their 15-year-old daughter. Since then, she has had to rely on assistance from her friends and family to buy food and pay the bills. As little as R200 (approx. £9) has been enough for her to be denied the SRD grant due to “source of income”. Charmain finds herself in an impossible situation. If she borrows money she may lose out on the grant but if she does not, she cannot survive. Charmain Martin at home in Eldorado Park ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Boamogetswe Mogopi ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Boamogetswe Mogopi Whilst studying Boamogetswe Mogopi received a student grant for the first two semesters but was subsequently rejected when her sister lent her some money. Without the student grant, she had to quit her course and look for work. On applying for the SRD grant she has been continuously rejected as her student grant is still appearing as active on the system, and there is no way for her to cancel it. At 21, she has no way to study and no support while she tries to find work. Boamogetswe Mogopi at home in Bekkersdal ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Portrait of Dalene Raiters ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Dalene Raiters Dalene Cindy Raiters’ grant payments stopped when she was flagged for identity verification. As her ID documents had been damaged in a flood, she had to obtain a new ID card. She eventually started to receive the benefit again and, as she had been unpaid for two years, she was owed back pay, which was paid to her monthly as an additional payment of R370. Her grant was then declined as the R740 coming into her account was seen to be over the income threshold, making her then ineligible for the grant. Dalene Raiters at home in Eldorado Park ( © Thom Pierce 2024) Next week we will go behind the scenes of our #paythegrants portrait shoots. I look forward to your comments and questions below.

Turkana Rally - 90cm x 65cm - R32,000 Inventing a completely new way of funding a social initiative comes with it's fair share of trial and error. Sometimes the only way of finding out what works is to put an idea out into the world and see what people say. It has been my dream since starting Positive Activism to fund it by selling my artworks to individuals and businesses around the world who share the vision. Those who want to support us in our mission to build a better South Africa by promoting the community change-makers who are already making a valuable impact. My initial idea was to sell just one image a year in an exclusive edition of 25 signed prints. The aim was to keep it as simple as possible with one image that symbolised the generosity of the 2025 funding team. I thought that it could be interesting to have a new image every year that was exclusively available for the duration of that funding cycle. Thabo Lekhotsa - 90cm x 75cm - R32,000 I launched the idea, and very quickly people started asking me if there was a choice of different images. They loved the idea of buying art that also funds a social initiative but they wanted to have a piece of art that they decided on, rather than me. I asked myself "Why am I limiting the artworks that I am making available when I have a huge back catalogue of work to choose from? I have artworks that have been exhibited around the world in some of the most prestigious galleries, and some that have won awards. Why am I not generously offering a choice of my work, when asking for generous funding? And so I pivoted. I want the artworks to be exclusive and I want them to symbolise the funding of Positive Activism. I want them to be a talking point on the walls of the funders, and a daily reminder of the positive change that is being made because of their generous investment. So I have decided to make an exclusive single edition of a curated selection of artworks from my collection. One piece of each will be made available in a unique size (Portrait: 90cm x 75cm, Landscape 90cm x 65cm), signed on the front and marked with the edition "Positive Activism 1/1". Each piece is priced at R32,000 (approx. £1,400 | $1,800 | €1,700) and Inclusive of worldwide shipping. The artwork will be shipped with a certificate of authenticity, together with the story of how that image was made. Each funder will have their name permanently added to our website and they will receive regular updates about the projects we are working on and a full colour photo book containing all the stories from that year (shipped at the end of the year). Winnie's Tuck Shop - 90cm x 65cm - R32,000 At the moment I have made 15 pieces available, these are some of the most popular pieces from my catalogue. You can take a look at the collection here . I look forward to hearing your thoughts and comments.

Pinky Mashiane - © Thom Pierce 2023 I have known Pinky Mashiane for a couple of years now. She is one of the most inspiring people that I have met in my various missions to document the change makers of South Africa. I wrote about her in the Daily Maverick for my project The Actionists and she was the first person that I reached out to when I decided to move Positive Activism in this new direction. I have never met anyone who is as certain about their own personal direction, and as motivated to work for the rights of others. In fact Pinky's origin story demonstrates her character perfectly. Here is an extract from the Daily Maverick article ... Walking through a wealthy suburb of Pretoria, Pinky saw a gardener being shouted at and threatened by his employer. Without thinking twice she marched through the gate, announced that she was from the Department of Labour and declared that she would have to report the employer for what she had just witnessed. She didn’t work for the Department of Labour, and she had no means to report the man for his abusive behaviour, but he believed her story, and tried to bribe her to not report him. Pinky refused the money and insisted that he give it to the gardener, along with an apology. She took both their numbers so that she could check that the mistreatment never happened again. It was at this point that she realised that she had the power to change people’s lives for the better.  Joanna Mkhoza - © Thom Pierce 2024 The work that Pinky does through her organisation UDWOSA (United Domestic Workers of South Africa) is aligned to her character. She is a fierce defender of the rights of her contemporaries and she spends every waking hour fighting for justice in it's various forms. Domestic Workers are some of the most poorly treated people in South Africa because their job is mostly informal and unregulated. The desperation for work often leads people to accept conditions and treatment that border on human rights violations, putting up with it so as to keep food on the table. The UDWOSA help domestic workers and gardeners with all sorts of different issues from sexual harassment to unfair deductions for breakages. They support the enforcement of a minimum wage and help with mediation between employers and their employees. Very often they attend court cases where their clients are claiming compensation for injuries, abuse and non payment; to offer support and advice when their clients need it the most. Sarah Makuwa at home - © Thom Pierce 2024 A good example of their work is illustrated through the story of Sarah Makuwa: Sarah was working for a family in Pretoria in 2012 when she was blinded in one eye by an open bottle of drain cleaner that fell from the top shelf. Her employer had asked her to move all of the cleaning products to a lower shelf. Instead of taking her straight to hospital, Sarah was made to wait until the husband got home and was driven to hospital two hours after the accident took place. She stayed in hospital for 3 months, but when the family was asked to pay for medication they refused, saying that they didn’t have any money. On returning to work she found that the electricity had been cut off to her living quarters, and the toilet had been blocked. After three months she was forced to leave and told that they could no longer employ her. 10 years later and Sarah still hasn’t received any compensation, but she is working with Pinky to get justice for her injury. Pinky Mashiane - © Thom Pierce 2024 Spending time with Pinky, you realise that her phone doesn't stop ringing, so much is the demand for her and her organisation. And she mostly does it out of her own pocket, volunteering her time and energy at the expense of her own family life and personal welfare. But she takes everything in her stride and approaches it with a humour and patience that comes with the confidence of knowing that her work is a vital service to others. I am really proud to feature Pinky and UDWOSA as the first project for Positive Activism. They are everything that I hope this initiative will be; a vital service to enrich the lives of others. They are the benchmark for the type of organisations that I am looking to work with and an example of the way that individuals in South Africa are working diligently for the rights of themselves and others. Find out more about UDWOSA by visiting their website, hosted on the Positive Activism platform, www.udwosa.co.za Leave your comments and questions below.

Tselane Mafemekoane for PEPFAR - © Thom Pierce 2021 By now you probably know what Positive Activism is: Positive Activism is my new initiative providing free, high quality websites and promotional content to small, under-funded human rights organisations in South Africa. It is funded through the sale of exclusive artworks to individuals and organisations around the world who share my vision and want to join me on my mission to create tangible, positive change. At The Start Line I came up with the idea for Positive Activism in 2018. I wrote down the bones of it and started sketching out how it might look and feel. After 6 long years, I am finally at the start line; the place where I get to "launch the product", the place where the work begins. It has taken me so long to get here because I was missing the one crucial element that made it all make sense. I was missing the WHY. In the years since I came up with the first idea a lot has changed; I moved cities, I started a family and I made a lot of work. With every photograph I took I asked myself the same question; "Why am I doing this?" Siyabonga Ndlangamandla from The Actionists - © Thom Pierce 2023 Working With Purpose I have always wanted to make work that has a purpose. Not a subtle changing of the narrative, or a valuable document of our times for the history books of the future; but an immediate, tangible purpose. Something that can change lives now, that can be of use to someone today. As I was making my long term project " The Actionists " in 2023/24, several of the people that I was featuring asked if I could help them create a website. I learned that a website can be the defining factor in their success, making them visible to possible funding organisations. An internet search is the first port of call for most people when they want to quickly find out about an organisation and, without a website, it can be a dead end. I realised that creating a compelling web presence can be really expensive; you need good photographs, quality writing and a simple but effective design...all skills that I have. I concluded that, I could find a way to fund this idea then I could make something that has an immediate purpose to those small organisations whilst simultaneously creating documentary photographic projects that can be repackaged as exhibitions and articles for years to come. These are compelling stories in their own right. The origin stories, the passion and dedication of individuals working to create change at the the detriment of their own personal lives, financial stability and safety. I realised that I could still tell these stories but if the primary focus is on supporting the organisation, I can do it with a purpose that is immediate and valuable to them. So I found my WHY, and I am really excited about it. BUILDING A BETTER SOUTH AFRICA I have a vision for building a better South Africa by supporting the people who are already doing the hard work; providing invaluable services to their communities. There are hundreds of them around the country, passionately advocating for the right of others, operating on a shoestring out of the kindness of their own hearts. They form small organisations, encourage friends and family to get involved, and spend their own money, what little they have, on the resources they need to keep going. I've seen it happen and I know the impact that they have on their communities. My dream is to find these extraordinary people and empower them with the tools to support themselves and expand their reach, whilst they continue to help everyone else around them. That's my dream and my job now is two fold; make the work and find the funders. Oupa Maboke from #PayTheGrants - © Thom Pierce 2024 Making The Work I now have a list of at least 30 amazing organisations that need this service. Every time I mention it to someone who needs it, they light up as if it is the gift that they have been waiting for for years. That's how I know it is important. That's how I know it is worthwhile. Each month I will be promoting the work of one organisation, whilst creating the website, promotional content and articles for another, to be promoted the following month. In the lead up to launching Positive Activism on the 1st February 2025 I have been working with three incredible organisations; United Domestic Workers of South Africa , #PayTheGrants and the Dobsonville Human Rights Center. You will get to know all of them much better over the coming months. This year, to fund Positive Activism, I will be selling exclusive prints of this piece: Nosipho Eunice Dala Finding The Funders I wanted Positive Activism to have a unique approach to funding. It feels really important that the initiative is funded independently, instead of relying on corporate backing or grant applications. This is for a couple of reasons: Firstly, I cannot create this work if it is being overseen by a corporate that is concerned about their public image. This work is far too important to be reduced to a branding exercise. I've tried it before and it just doesn't work. Secondly, writing funding proposals and applying for grants is a whole job in itself. A job that would take away from me actually making the work. There are many hotly contested funding opportunities out there, but to get them takes personnel and resources that I simply do not have. What I have is my art. My dream is that I can find a small group of people around the world that believe in Positive Activism enough to want to contribute towards funding the initiative. In exchange for their support I want them to have an exclusive artwork from my collection, a book of all the projects and regular updates throughout the year so that we can celebrate the wins together. My hope is that funding Positive Activism will provide an experience for those who want to be a part of creating positive change in South Africa. The artwork above (Nosipho Eunice Dala) is available in an edition of only 25 signed prints. These are reserved exclusively for the Founding Funders of Positive Activism who will be supporting the initiative to grow throughout 2025 and who will be permanently added to our funders page . Thanks to John Caldwell, Gabbi Kannemeyer and Bruce Archer for being the first to join the Founding Funders team and to the South Africa Development Fund , without whose support I would never have got to the starting line. Let me know your thoughts below, I look forward to taking this journey with you. Thom

I photographed Fatima Babu on the streets of Thoothukudi (formerly Tuticorin) just 18 days after the police killed 13 people who were protesting the expansion of a copper smelter that she had been campaigning against for 24 years. Fatima was seen as one of the leaders of the movement and the police, who were having to answer questions about their violent reaction to the 20,000 strong crowd, were out to get her. I had no idea of the severity of the situation until I arrived in the bustling coastal town, on my own with no idea where I was going or who I would be meeting. I had the name of my hotel and the number for a man called Raj. That was all. Raj and I had spoken once before and he told me that he couldn’t say much over the phone, but that I should rather fly through Chennai, stay at a certain hotel and call him when I was settled. This was my first time in India and Thoothukudi chaotic, noisy, humid and overwhelming. I found my hotel and took a walk to the estuary to get a sense of my surroundings, but the piles of rubbish and smell of toxic pollution didn’t encourage a long stay and I soon found myself back at the hotel, phoning Raj and ordering a variety of curry dishes from the hotel restaurant. We agreed to meet at the hotel the next day and to do the interview and studio portrait in my room. When they arrived Fatima looked rattled. It turned out that they had walked in to the hotel and seen the chief of police for the whole Tamil Nadu region in the lobby. He was staying in the same hotel as me, here from Chennai to protect the reputation of the police, and in many ways to target Fatima as one of the leaders of the protest. I had traveled a long way, through Uganda, Dubai and Chennai to get to meet and photograph Fatima but still my priority was her safety. I asked her if she wanted to abandon the shoot but she was steadfast, it was more important to tell the story. After the interview we left the hotel by the stairwell and the back door and, with Fatima hiding in the back of the car, we drove through the streets of Thoothukudi to find a place for the portrait. I wanted to be out on the streets because it told the story of the protest but due to the precarious nature of the situation that we found ourselves in, we didn’t have a lot of time. The light was going, we only had one chance. We stopped the car, I got out and set up my flash and took a couple of test shots . When I was happy, Fatima swiftly emerged from the car and stood in the spot that I had chosen. I took several quick portraits whilst, under breath, Fatima repeated “Quickly, quickly, quickly”. We jumped back in the car as she said, “that’s it, it’s too risky now, people know I am here". And that was it. The only opportunity we had. After 4 flights and 18 hours of travel I got the portrait and no second chances. Fatima and her team left soon after and I returned to my hotel room, shaken and ready to leave after less than 24 hours. You can read Fatima’s story from The Guardian here. I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments below. T

In 2018 I made an epic journey around the world to photograph environmental defenders whose lives were at extreme risk for the stand they were taking. These were not just any old environmental activists, these people were actively putting themselves on the line everyday to oppose the military, corrupt police, drug cartels, big business and armed wildlife poachers. At the time it seemed quite normal, but in hindsight it was insanely dangerous. The articles are available on The Guardian. The photographs are credited to me and the stories to Jonathan Watts, for the most part we worked separately, and I traveled alone, walking in to situations that I had absolutely no idea about. The environmental editor Jonathan Watts did a great job writing the stories, and in many cases had already conducted the interviews but on one of the trips to the Philippines I was lucky enough to have him and a videographer Leo Plunkett come along with me. Six years later and this is the first time I have written about the experience of making The Defenders, and the first time I have allowed myself to reflect on the situation that we put ourselves in over those few days in Mindanao. We needed the nuns on our side. That was the key to our safety. Not that the nuns posed any threat to us, but they had the inside information on the volatility of the situation in Datal Bonglangon village and, knowing the reasons why we wanted to visit, they could organise transport and call ahead to lay the groundwork for three white guys turning up in a village which had recently been torn apart by the massacre of 8 farmers. We were told that we needed to be careful. We had to be honest with the villagers about why we were there, but the soldiers couldn’t know who we were. So the community was prepped by the nuns, and transport was organised. We only had one day because once we were out, if word got around that we were journalists, a second day could be much more precarious for us, a piece of advice we ended up ignoring, and almost regretting. The village of Datal Bonglangon is basically nestled inside a massive coffee plantation at the top of a mountain. The road is a dirt road that becomes impassable when the rains come. The coffee plantation is guarded by armed soldiers. The villagers themselves were stuck. The plantation was encroaching upon their land and their resistance was responded to with extreme violence. Whilst the army did not seem to have any jurisdiction over the village, they were clearly keeping a close eye. I’m not going to go into the full story of the massacre here, you can read the full story by Jonathan Watts for The Defenders series here. But what I will say is that what we encountered when we entered the village was a community torn apart, families who had lost numerous loved ones, and an anger, sadness and frustration that affected us all profoundly. Leo and I had four days on the island of Mindanao, Jonathan came along only for the one day to the village as he had a tight schedule to stick to. So on day one, Leo and I got the nuns on side. Day two we visited another village, just to get a feel for the area, to take some establishing shots and to find out the broader context of life in the rural Philippines. On day three we went to the village… From what I recall it was a pretty long journey, the roads were bad and the majority of the trip was spent winding up an informal mountain pass. The landscape was beautiful; a lush, thick, deep green that is only achieved through intense humidity and heavy rain. We were accompanied by three fixers/bodyguards/interpreters who gave us the illusion and confidence of safety. But when we arrived I think it is fair to say that we were all a little on edge. Jonathan Watts is a tall man. Very tall. And people in The Philippines are obsessed with basketball. As we drove into the village we parked right in-front of the informal village basketball court and, on exiting the car, were greeted with elation from the community who could not believe that, at his height, Jonathan was anything other than a professional basketball player. This broke the ice. We relaxed a little. As with many visits to communities, we started off with a community meeting to explain why we were there. This was not as simple as it may seem as we became aware of a couple of heavily armed soldiers circling us and eventually standing within earshot of our meeting and observing our every move. When another man is watching you, whilst holding a machine gun, it’s quite hard to feel comfortable, but I was amazed at how Jonathan managed to find the space and time to conduct long and involved interviews with several members of the community, most notably Marivic Danyan the young lady who lost her husband, father and brothers in the massacre. I have worked with several journalists, many of them very good, but to observe someone of such skill as Jonathan go about his work was something I will never forget. The time and space that he allowed for people to talk, and the depth to which he took those interviews was truly impressive. I’m not sure he would feel comfortable with reading that, but credit where credit is due. Long story short, we did the interviews, we got the photographs and film footage and we returned to our hotel with a feeling of relief and achievement. I think we went out for a seafood dinner. Job done? Not quite. “I need to go back to the village, we didn’t get the drone footage.” Leo greeted me with in the morning. My heart sank. I was very pleased that we had got back to the hotel without incident, without being followed, and without drawing undue attention to ourselves, and wasn’t keen to give it another crack. We inquired, through the nuns, as to whether it was safe and it was suggested that there has been some chatter about journalists snooping around. We were told not to go back to the village but that we could try and get as close as possible without being seen. Jonathan had left early in the morning to go and interview a fisherman in Palawan, so it was just Leo and I. I could not possibly let him go alone and, sadly, he was far more spirited (read ‘braver’) than me. So off we went, back up the mountain. This time more nervous than before (me, not Leo). The threat of rain was imminent and we knew that if it started to pour we needed to move quickly. The road would become impassible and being stuck at the top of a mountain, on the wrong side of a violent army was probably not going to work out in our favor. We found a spot to work from, looking out over the coffee plantation, our fixers keeping watch from a tower. The car was turned around, idling, ready to go and we were under instructions that if they spotted the army coming towards us we were to get in the car and drive, no questions asked. It’s 2018 and the drone has a battery life of about 8 minutes. The plan is to fly the drone for 8 minutes, jump in the car and drive. Leo put the drone up. The drone disappears. We think it has been shot down. The footage is on the drone. Leo jumps into the coffee plantation to find the drone. I stand by the car ready to go. It starts raining. Honestly, I’m scared. Our fixers have come down off the tower, they say that they have seen the army driving towards us. I don’t have communication with Leo. We can’t leave him there but we need to go. Now. Leo appears from the thick undergrowth. He hasn’t found the drone. I call it - “Leave it, we have to go”. I get the feeling he would have gone back in but with the rain is getting heavier and, with the threat of the army on our tail, we just need to leave. On the way home the rain has caused a huge landslide of mud across the road, we cannot get through and have to wait for a Caterpillar loader to come and clear the road. A nervous wait, that seemed to drag on for hours. I don’t think I have ever been so happy to get on a plane before. As the wheels come up and we ascend through the clouds a huge sense of relief washes over me. We did what we came to do, but I cannot ignore how close we came to not making it out. We almost didn’t make it home. Looking at the story now, on The Guardian website, it’s amazing to think that such an extraordinary experience resulted in a powerful, but fairly standard journalistic piece. It strikes me that our experiences over those four days were just drop in the ocean of the fear and anxiety that the villagers of Datal Bonglangon wnet through every day.

As part of my series The Price of Gold , photographing miners with silicosis around South Africa and Lesotho, I visited Mr Dlisani and his family at their home in Teko Springs, Eastern Cape. He told me about his time working on the explosives team in the gold mines and his subsequent 18 months in hospital for a lung disease, from working in the mines, for which he received no compensation. We chatted inside the small, one room rondavel (round house) where he and his family lived. The kitchen was a two burner electric stove, stood in the corner of the room, with the food and cooking implements stored neatly under the bed. I decided that the only real option I had was to photograph Mr Dlisani and his wife inside their one-roomed home. The resulting photograph was underwhelming and I left feeling like I hadn’t quite done their story justice. To listen to such hardship and then not be able to translate it into a compelling image is always disappointing, but you have to work with what is available to you. I got into the car and, as I was reversing, I opened the window to thank Mrs Dlisani for her hospitality. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” she asked. I was in a bit of a rush to get to my next shoot but I didn’t want to be rude so I got out of the car and followed her around the corner. She showed me the rest of their home, the large kitchen which, due to bad weather and poor building materials had collapsed. With no job, no compensation and lungs that were severely damaged from working in the mines, Mr Dlisani had no choice but to leave the house to go to ruin and move his family into the rondavel. As soon as I saw the building and heard the story I knew that we had to retake the portrait. The crumbling kitchen not only created a more dramatic scene but was also an honest visual narrative that told their story in an instant. This is what you hope for as an environmental photographer, every time you arrive at someones house. A simple scene that tells the story. I went back to the car, got all my equipment out, setting up a light inside the building as there was no electricity and little natural light in the room. I was tempted to use a wider shot of the house, placing it in the context of the rural landscape. Because of the lighting it was well balanced and it possibly told a broader story about their lives but I felt that the tighter crop of the final image simplified it and focused on the family more than the building. The story, after all, was about Mr Dlisani and so I wanted for him and his relationship with his family to be the main reading of the image. The building acted as the perfect frame, leading the eye towards the family whilst simultaneously telling a visual story about their lives. With much of my work the context is needed, so once you know the basics about Mr Dlisani and his illness, the way he was treated by the mine and his inability to support his family, the photograph is even more powerful. It could, however, have had so much less of an impact if I had not got a second chance at the portrait. This portrait was taken in 2015 and from that moment on I have always looked a little bit further when I feel like I haven’t got the image that I need, especially when I am advocating for the rights of the person I am photographing. It seems like I am doing them a great disservice if I do not take a bit more time and more of an effort to do the best that I can.

In this terrifying world of AI generated images and ubiquitous content creators, many creatives need to find a new way to exist. The challenge is to make the work that you are passionate about, paid for by people that appreciate it; and to earn enough to keep the lights on, the kids fed and to carry on making the work. That is my personal definition of success. There are two parts of my work that I am passionate about: art and activism. I love selling my artwork to people who appreciate it, and I love making advocacy projects that change other people’s lives for the better. In the past I have made human rights projects that have significantly impacted class action court cases ( The Price of Gold, 2016 ), and others that have given a valuable voice to people whose livelihoods were being threatened for someone else’s profit ( Postcards From Xolobeni, 2017 ). These are the projects that change lives, these are the ones I feel compelled to make more of. THE MISSION Simply put, the mission is to create work that has an intrinsic purpose. I have labored over this idea for years. Trial and error. Making projects to see what sticks, to see what actually has an impact. But the thing I keep on coming back to is that the work should have value simply by existing. Not from getting it published in an international newspaper, or from exhibiting the work in a famous gallery. The work should have purpose just because it has been made. Now maybe this is a lofty dream but I keep on thinking of the barber who gives free haircuts to homeless people so that they can look smart enough to apply for a job. Sure it makes for great social media content, but it also serves a purpose simply by existing. It is a generous use of the barbers skills, it has meaning and it potentially changes lives. I kept thinking that there must be something I could do that has purpose just by existing. Something where just by making the work, other people benefit. Ideally, the people in the photographs. I have spent years trying to find the right project. Much of that time was spent thinking, conceptualizing, testing, failing and trying again. I couldn't shake the feeling that the solution was within touching distance, but I just couldn't reach it. I knew the answer was simple and staring me straight in the face. And then it landed. POSITIVE ACTIVISM The idea was simple. And it was staring me right in the face the whole time. In fact I had put together and dismantled the parts of the idea several times over the last five years, they just weren't fitting together quite right. But eventually they fell into place. Positive Activism helps under-resourced human rights initiatives in South Africa to make a greater impact by providing them with free, high-quality promotional and advocacy tools. I have worked with hundreds of activists and human rights organisations over the years and every one of them needs a web presence. Every one of them needs compelling content. Every one of them needs a way for the public to engage, support and share their important work. And every one of them needs to stand out to potential funders. Positive Activism provides a web presence, social content, media articles and publicity material to the organisations and activists who do not have the funding to pay for it. It's a perfect fit. I have the skills and experience to make the content and there are hundreds of organisations that need and deserve what I can give them. The Problem In order to make this valuable work I need to fund it. Making the work is relatively cheap for me to do; I have all the equipment and the skills that I need, so my expenses are mostly travel related and, because most of the work that I make is now in South Africa, the travel isn’t a major expense. But at 46, with two kids and a mortgage, I have a responsibility to generate an income, and without one I cannot justify making human rights projects. “Why not charge the newspapers and magazines who publish your stories?” I hear someone suggest… I could, I often do, and I will continue to do so when offered. But the amount that they pay is minimal compared to the time it takes to create the work. Mainstream media outlets often want exclusivity, or first publication, when they are paying, so that reduces the possibilities even more. How much better would it be to be able to offer the work without needing to be paid? To spread it far and wide without the promise of exclusivity but with the promise of high quality and minimal expense. That is a better model for advocacy because it is much more likely to be published broadly, and advocacy is all about building support. THE SOLUTION Sell the artwork to pay for the activism. Perhaps it’s a bold idea, but I already sell the artwork. Now I’m not just selling a piece of art, I’m selling an investment into social change. A chance to make a difference in other people’s lives, by doing the same thing as you were going to do before, by buying a piece of my art. But the offering is so much bigger than that because now you are part of the story, and you deserve to know what happens and what change your money is making. And then you get to make it part of your own story. TURNING ART INTO ACTIVISM My dream is that I can sell my artwork to independently fund Positive Activism. In fact I believe in the idea so much that I am making all of my certified print collections exclusively available to funders of this initiative. When you buy a piece of art from any of my collections you are not just buying a piece of art for your wall, you are also helping to support me in making Positive Activism. And so that you get to be a part of the journey you will get regular updates on the projects that I am making, access to behind-the-scenes content, a book featuring all the projects that your investment has helped to create, and other ways to engage on a deeper level. MAYBE Maybe you think this is a crazy idea. Maybe you think it’s exciting. Maybe it’s just what you have been waiting for. Maybe you want a piece of art on your wall that is a conversation starter, a reminder that your money has gone further than just an aesthetic pleasure. And maybe you want to keep up with that story and enjoy the journey. Maybe you want more than that, maybe you want to have a say. This isn’t for everyone, I know. But it is for some of you. And if I can find enough of you, together we could do something special. I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments below. T

I had lunch with a “client” in Johannesburg last week. He was buying an artwork from me and, since he was staying in town for a few days, we decided to meet up so that I could give him the print in person. We were talking about the new house that he is building for his family in North Carolina, a passion project that he would be doing much of the carpentry for himself, once the foundations were secure. He was buying the print from me as part of a collection of art for their library. He told me that his wife had decided on one rule when buying art for their house, which was that the artwork needs to mean something to them. It needs to be more than just a nice picture. It needs to have a story that resonated with them. Much of his work has brought him to Southern Africa over the years and so he has a deep interest in the people, cultures and landscapes of South Africa and Lesotho. I imagine this is what drew him to my work. When he displays that artwork in his new house it won’t just be a decoration for the walls, but a conversation starter for anyone that takes an interest. It will lead to a story of his own life and work in South Africa, opening doors to deeper conversation, allowing him to talk about issues that matter to him. The Art You Buy Is A Statement About Yourself… It is a reminder to you, and everyone who comes to your home of who you are and what you stand for. It’s the breadcrumbs that leads to a clearing where your interests, philosophies and personality are revealed to others. Much of the time it leads to the ideal version of you; that time when you were your most interesting self or those issues that define the most vibrant and radical edges of your personality. It made me think a lot about who I want to make art for, what I want them to feel and, outside of the obvious financial reasons, why I want them to buy it. It occurred to me that why I make the art is as important as the art that I make. Because I want the people who buy my work to love what they see, but I also want them to love what they feel when they look at it. I want the story of why I make the art to become their story, an extension of themselves and their place in the world. I Make Two Types Of Work: Art & Activism. The activism I make is an ongoing series of projects that provide free advocacy and promotional tool to under-resourced human rights initiatives in South Africa. I call this Positive Activism . The art that I make is for people who are interested in the world. It’s for people with a humanitarian heart. People who embrace the rich variety of the human experience. People who want to build bridges and people who are passionate about seeing a change towards tolerance and equality. I sell the art to fund the activism. When you buy a piece of my work I want you to feel a part of the ongoing story to make work that changes lives. This is because you are part of it. You are funding it. Every time you look at the print on your wall I want you to be reminded of the broader value of your investment, the ongoing, positive impact that it is making. And I want it to become a part of the story that you tell about why you bought the artwork and what it means to you. I would like it to be part of your story so that when someone comes to your house and compliments you on the nice picture on the wall it isn’t the end of the conversation, but the start of a whole new one that speaks to who you are and how you exist in the world. Isn’t that, after all, what art is for? I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments below. T