“the other south.”


Playing in the squatter camp

Laughing, and tumbling like

Empty cans and chip packets

Watching the people and the gossip

Flowing generously

As the promised water would if

It could

As free as the air

Wrapped in time together

And the minutes are sweet.

Obey the Sign

Stop smiling and yield

As stubborn as you are

This is one of those times.

Up and Up

(leaving nothing we can hold on to

without paying the price).

Break from your rapture and


In the beginning was The Word

Today – the New Storyteller

See ye see ye:  The writing’s on the


The Shabeen


It’s the middle of the day

You have bills. Yet

Drink in hand you sit

with your lime and lemon joy.

Looking all around you

Where there’s nothing left but


We’re stuck here in this void

Of Fermentation

And the enemy’s invisible to

both of us.

Washer Woman

Lady in white displays her skills

See how lovely

For so little

Your clothes could look this good

Washer Woman

Lady in white displays her skills

See how lovely

For so little

Your clothes could look this good

Slap Chips

Friends, food and

Hey! A camera after my



What do you have to become?

What do you think you need to be?

I don’t think you thought

About it properly-

The real meaning of immortality.

Oxford Road


We could go for


Young Girl

Finding joy is the art of children

Like hearing music

That is not there.

The Protector

On his shack the scarecrow


And whom, may I ask,

Are you scaring away this time?

Three Brothers

Brothers, we never went nowhere

Never needed to either!

Belly shouts shake laugh lines deeper

Before you the bearing of true masters,


Clothes Line

On the field their dreams

Are filled

With roaring crowds

The colours over bright

The dreams die out

When the whistle blows

But sell up again.

You should’ve seen me bro!

Next time.


We scrub.  And rising from the

washtub of Reality

Where cultural myths soak every Age

Pretty multihued bubbles on the wind.

“the other south”

Spending time in South Africa renews my soul. I observe a country in flux and rebirth. Attempting to gain understanding of South Africa’s diverse and changing cultures is a monumental task.

I became both a photographer and an encaustic artist about ten years ago, and as I care profoundly for the country where I was born, I have chosen to document many aspects of daily life in South Africa. Hidden within South Africa’s many cultures and multiple geographies lie a photographer’s dream.

The photographs are produced in my own darkroom and are Silver Gelatin Prints.

The viewer is encouraged to imagine a story from each image with particular attention on the emotions triggered by images. Perhaps the poetry provides clues to other perspectives too?

Lesley Ann Price

Poetry by Alicia Thomas Woolf