Design Week unfolded slowly, over a few warm, rain-dotted days where the city seemed to hum with anticipation. Joburg has always felt alive to me, vibrant and restless, but this time something new lingered in the air: curiosity.
It was my first Design Week, and only the city’s second, yet there was a sense of familiarity in the unknown. Each day arrived with something to look forward to. An exhibition, a gathering, a quiet moment between strangers who understood the language of form and feeling. The weather shifted between sunlight and cloud, as if echoing the pulse of the week - calm yet electric, grounded yet full of promise.
Thursday set the rhythm for design week, the city humming with openings and conversations. My first stop was JCAF, where Structures explored the relationship between people and the built environment — how space, place, and race shape the way we exist within the world. Among the installations, Série Blanche by photographer Jellel Gasteli lingered with me. A meditation on time, light, and landscape. The series captured Tunisia’s traditional white stone mosques in Djerba, overexposed until they appeared ethereal, as though Gasteli had photographed the very spirit of the place. As someone who has always been drawn to architecture, history, and photography, the work felt deeply personal. Simple yet powerful, like stillness made visible.
Nearby, Dinokana by MADEYOULOOK offered an experience that reached even deeper. The installation told the story of the Bahurutshe and Bakoni people, their displacement, return, and enduring connection to land and rain. Spread across three parts, Dinokana unfolded through a terraced landscape referencing traditional water systems, clippings of the resurrection plant as a symbol of resilience, and a 20-minute soundscape woven with songs of rain and harvest, field recordings, and memories, all carried by a Johannesburg thunderstorm.
This specific installation spoke directly to me, a reflection of my own heritage and the stories of the people I grew up learning about. Standing there, listening to the soundscape, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and connection. It reminded me of the stories we'd gather around for growing up, of how rain has always been sacred to our people, a language between the earth and the divine. Seeing that part of my culture reimagined through art felt like witnessing memory made tangible.
Later that afternoon, I visited TONIC for Ari's Listening Room, curated by Andile Buka, a sensory exploration through sound. AK Jenkins opened the space with a thoughtful blend of gospel, jazz, hip-hop, and avant-garde, creating an atmosphere that felt both nostalgic and new. Watching people connect through sound, strangers swaying to shared rhythm, reminded me how creativity bridges the spaces between us.
By Friday, the rhythm of Design Week had settled, slower, more intentional. The day began at HERE, where a panel discussion titled Visions and Voices: Fashion’s New Narratives brought together designers Wanda Lephoto (Wanda Lephoto), Shelly Mokoena (Connade), Mikael Hanan (Fields), and Jackie May (Twyg Magazine). The conversation unfolded around identity, sustainability, and the growing responsibility to tell our stories as Africans, before the world tells them for us. As someone who hopes to use my creativity to reflect our histories and heritage in new ways, I found the discussion deeply grounding. It reminded me that fashion, like storytelling, holds immense power when it speaks to the people who understand its language most intimately, those at home.
I ended the day at The Price of Gold exhibition, where seven artists and four designers reimagined the city through the language of material, memory, and form. My favorite installation was by Respect Your Elders, an ode to memory and transformation. Vintage furniture, worn fabrics, and a record player spinning quietly in a corner filled the space with nostalgia. The tea sets reminded me of my grandmother’s fine china, and the patchwork couches spoke to the beauty of resourcefulness, how something can always be turned into something else, reimagined, rebuilt, renewed.
Saturday carried its own rhythm, beginning at the Viviers Open Studio at The Glass House, a serene space where texture, form, and light seemed to move in harmony. Seeing each piece up close, the intricate tailoring, the quiet drama of fabric and structure, reminded me that design lives in the details. From there, I stopped by Athena A’s store and studio to preview their upcoming jewellery collection. Each piece felt deeply personal; delicate yet strong, thoughtful in design and meaning. As someone whose personal style balances minimalism with expressive, statement pieces, I found the experience deeply inspiring. Watching how each piece evolved from idea to form reminded me how creation is often a conversation between patience and curiosity.
Johannesburg felt like the perfect backdrop for Design Week — alive, layered, and full of movement. There was something deeply grounding about watching the city open itself up to creativity, becoming both stage and story. To see art, design, and conversation coexist so effortlessly, to see people gather in shared curiosity, reminded me of what makes this place so special.
I left with a renewed sense of purpose toward my own creative path. There’s something about witnessing others in the act of making that reignites the desire to create, connect and express. Throughout the days, I was reminded that communication and connection can take many forms, a soundscape, a garment, a gesture, a moment of stillness. And at the centre of it all is us, the people; building, shaping, and redefining what it means to exist and to see.
Perhaps that’s what Design Week ultimately celebrates: the simple act of saying, this is me, this is how I see the world, and how I see you within it. I left inspired, hopeful, and eager to see more spaces like this emerge. Spaces that allow new voices to speak, and new stories to take shape.
Until our next adventure.
From my heart to yours,
K.
