To Whom It May Concern is an intimate letter stitched into public space — a call, a confrontation, and a gesture toward repair. The phrase, often used when the recipient is unknown or withheld, becomes a site of tension: a letter addressed to systems, histories, ancestors, and futures that may or may not respond.
The exhibition unfolds as an epistolary landscape in which tapestries operate as textile-based letters and surfaces that hold memory, fracture, and repair. It explores how histories — shaped by displacement, extraction, and systemic injustice — continue to inhabit bodies, psyches, landscapes, and everyday spaces. It holds space for confrontation and care, asking not only what needs to be said, but what it means to listen, to respond, and to take responsibility.
The exhibition opens with Not Everything That Is White Is Pure, a provocation that unsettles assumptions of innocence, neutrality, superiority, and order, implicating both material and ideological constructions of colonial modernity. The act of address is already unstable, shaped by histories of misrecognition and refusal.
In Bantu Blues, history and identity are held in tension. The title draws on the imposed taxonomy of “Bantu,” shaped by colonial and apartheid systems of classification, while “blues” evokes musical lineage and a register of mourning, endurance, and expression. Through stitching, the work reclaims this weight, dislodging it from administrative violence and re-situating it within embodied memory. Reparation begins here as an act of re-inscription.
In Uzung’ a wothi, uyashisa ungawu lokothi, tenderness reaches a limit and begins to fray. What emerges is not its opposite, but its escalation — care sharpened into vigilance, into alarm.
The work gestures toward a firestorm, sitting within a landscape marked by inequality, ruination, strained infrastructures, and the slow violence of abandonment. It marks a threshold where accumulated pressure can no longer be contained, where what has been suppressed begins to surface with force. Reparation becomes urgent, unstable, and contested.
This tension culminates in Return to Sender, where the direction of address is interrupted and reversed. Drawing on bureaucratic language of failed delivery, the work engages misaddress — being named incorrectly, received partially, or not received at all. Violence, projection, and imposed meaning are returned to their origin, unsettling the burden of repair.
The exhibition closes with Incwadi Encane: Take Care. The shift in language moves from distance to intimacy. It is both ending and charge — an insistence on responsibility, mending, and sustained care.
Across the exhibition, tapestries function as soft archives, holding what exceeds institutional record. Rooted in Black feminist and decolonial lineages, tenderness is positioned as a political stance — resistance to hardness, insistence on care, connection, and accountability.
Thread becomes a line of relation between past and present, absence and presence, self and other. Making becomes knowledge production: embodied, relational, resistant to erasure.
This exhibition does not assume a distant viewer. It situates you within the address — implicated in the histories it holds, and responsible for the futures it gestures toward.

















