The day after an underground explosion wrecked a section of Lilian Ngoyi Street (formerly Bree Street) in the Johannesburg city centre in July, many Instagram users were surprised to see photographs of beautifully dressed, perfectly coiffed appearing to have been taken while they were wandering serenely through the scene of devastation. Soon these were followed by pictures of “regular” citizens moving along, around and over the deep rifts in the tar: small kids running gleefully, youngsters staring pensively, blurry pedestrians going about their business.
The images under the title The Rumbling were, of course, entirely fabricated — the work of self-styled artificial intelligence (AI) artist Thekiso Mokhele — and they rapidly divided opinion. Some felt that Mokhele was exploiting the newsworthiness and visual impact of the blast to boost his own profile, with scant regard for the severity of the situation and the human suffering it wrought. Others found the material inspiring, a phoenix-from-the-ashes vision of Joburgers overcoming infrastructural neglect and thriving against the odds.
For those in the latter camp, AI made possible what could not be achieved through actual photography in the immediate aftermath of the event. A bit like having a robotic rapid response unit, but for emergency aesthetic needs. Nonetheless, letting some time pass would arguably have been appropriate, allowing the catastrophe to distil in our collective consciousness as well as in the artist’s individual imagination.
Moreover, it may just be that layers of difficulty in producing works of art — in this case, jumping through hoops to obtain permission to access the site before demolition and resurfacing, paying models to pose for the camera, and taking on all the risks and logistical challenges of a photo shoot — do indeed add layers of meaning and signification. Perhaps their “value” in both commercial and humanist terms is that they speak to artists’ commitment and sincerity.
These debates will be with us for some time as AI-generated content becomes easier to produce and more difficult to differentiate from art “made by humans”. There are ethical issues to address, no doubt, but it is pointless to be moralistic. AI is here to stay and we all have to come to terms with its benefits and pitfalls. Still, you don’t have to be a Luddite to gain pleasure from the fact that there are some things that a robot cannot do; here a switch from the visual to the performing arts is edifying.
A robot cannot, for example, impress an audience with juggling skills or feats of strength or daring acrobatics. A robot can be programmed to achieve the same outcome, sure, but what wows us about humans executing these and other superhuman tricks is precisely the threat that things could go wrong (along with our admiration for the hours and hours of practice that it takes to pull off a stunt with apparent ease).
The fallible humanness of the artist, as well as her or his reaching beyond human fallibility through the combination of talent and sheer grind, is at the heart of Zip Zap Circus. Since 1992, Zip Zap has been helping young people to “pursue their destinies” — a claim that is in no way overblown, as anyone who knows about the company can attest. Its work is driven both by a desire for social and economic upliftment, and by the highest standards of professional artistry.
In Moya, which toured France and Switzerland for three months earlier this year before returning to SA stages, the Zip Zap ensemble tells a story of inclusion and empowerment. There is an astute political awareness undergirding this show, which is rooted in Cape Town but pan-African in its purview and global in its appeal. Moya is an unmitigated joy to behold.
Many of the traditional circus arts are on display, woven together with sharp dance numbers and comic exchanges. Music and lighting add to the spectacle. What impresses, however, is not only the scale but the detail: each performer draws gasps with a display of balance, power, speed, concentration, grace and poise.
Ours is an era in which one can very quickly lose confidence in what is real and, indeed, what is human. Zip Zap offers a delightful antidote to a world going virtual and artificial.
• ‘Moya’ is at the Teatro at Montecasino from 31 August to 10 September.
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