erected in the 1980s in honour of the ‘victims of terrorism’. Obviously the victims were supposed to be white and terrorists assumed to be black. So I’ve used the inscription, ‘terrorisme’, an Afrikaans word, and juxtaposed it with the image. The word points to an actual historic monument in South Africa and has arisen from an identifiable historical period of oppression. In a sense it signals the idea of the split identities of black women as both ‘comfort’ and ‘threat’, as perceived by white people under apartheid. Black women were obviously seen as the people who would look after their children, love their children. But at the same time they’re seen as the ‘enemy’. AC: And, of course, what their relationship with the white child effectively did was remove from black women the opportunity to care for their own children or indeed, in some cases, to even produce their own children. So this was yet another form of containment under apartheid. PS: Yes, and another thing which interests me is that the nanny’s role of surrogate mother also made her a threatening figure and the target of many myths during the years of the ‘swart gevaar’ or ‘black peril’. During this time there were always stories going around that if, for instance there was going to be a black take-over that one of the most terrifying places would be in the domestic space because that was where black women had power and opportunity. And I experienced an anxiety about that so-called split subject—my beloved nanny—when I was little. That in the end makes the subjectivity of black women really complex and virtually impossible to represent for me, other than through lots of fractured, different stories and different images and different ways. AC: The thing which interests me about the Tula-Tula series is that here the ambivalences are contained within a single series and repeated in different ways. The fact that you gave it the name of a famous Zulu lullaby tula-tula—is also significant. Again it’s about a potentially ‘shared’ experience between black and white. Paradoxically the white child recognizes and is soothed by the lullaby which also nurses and comforts the black child. At the same time the pose in the snapshot is resonant of Christian religious iconography and consequently the viewer becomes conscious of an uncomfortable juxtaposition between violence (‘terrorisme’) and the nurturing sacrifices one might associate with the Madonna figure. PS: ‘Tula’ is also a command to ‘keep quiet’ or ‘become quiet’. If one thinks of the sign of ‘tula-tula’ you hear the voice of a black woman and that’s a kind of nourishment. AC: AC: You mentioned the difficulties in dealing with subjectivity. One of the big questions this raises is whether or not it’s possible or even desirable to

DOI link for erected in the 1980s in honour of the ‘victims of terrorism’. Obviously the victims were supposed to be white and terrorists assumed to be black. So I’ve used the inscription, ‘terrorisme’, an Afrikaans word, and juxtaposed it with the image. The word points to an actual historic monument in South Africa and has arisen from an identifiable historical period of oppression. In a sense it signals the idea of the split identities of black women as both ‘comfort’ and ‘threat’, as perceived by white people under apartheid. Black women were obviously seen as the people who would look after their children, love their children. But at the same time they’re seen as the ‘enemy’. AC: And, of course, what their relationship with the white child effectively did was remove from black women the opportunity to care for their own children or indeed, in some cases, to even produce their own children. So this was yet another form of containment under apartheid. PS: Yes, and another thing which interests me is that the nanny’s role of surrogate mother also made her a threatening figure and the target of many myths during the years of the ‘swart gevaar’ or ‘black peril’. During this time there were always stories going around that if, for instance there was going to be a black take-over that one of the most terrifying places would be in the domestic space because that was where black women had power and opportunity. And I experienced an anxiety about that so-called split subject—my beloved nanny—when I was little. That in the end makes the subjectivity of black women really complex and virtually impossible to represent for me, other than through lots of fractured, different stories and different images and different ways. AC: The thing which interests me about the Tula-Tula series is that here the ambivalences are contained within a single series and repeated in different ways. The fact that you gave it the name of a famous Zulu lullaby tula-tula—is also significant. Again it’s about a potentially ‘shared’ experience between black and white. Paradoxically the white child recognizes and is soothed by the lullaby which also nurses and comforts the black child. At the same time the pose in the snapshot is resonant of Christian religious iconography and consequently the viewer becomes conscious of an uncomfortable juxtaposition between violence (‘terrorisme’) and the nurturing sacrifices one might associate with the Madonna figure. PS: ‘Tula’ is also a command to ‘keep quiet’ or ‘become quiet’. If one thinks of the sign of ‘tula-tula’ you hear the voice of a black woman and that’s a kind of nourishment. AC: AC: You mentioned the difficulties in dealing with subjectivity. One of the big questions this raises is whether or not it’s possible or even desirable to

erected in the 1980s in honour of the ‘victims of terrorism’. Obviously the victims were supposed to be white and terrorists assumed to be black. So I’ve used the inscription, ‘terrorisme’, an Afrikaans word, and juxtaposed it with the image. The word points to an actual historic monument in South Africa and has arisen from an identifiable historical period of oppression. In a sense it signals the idea of the split identities of black women as both ‘comfort’ and ‘threat’, as perceived by white people under apartheid. Black women were obviously seen as the people who would look after their children, love their children. But at the same time they’re seen as the ‘enemy’. AC: And, of course, what their relationship with the white child effectively did was remove from black women the opportunity to care for their own children or indeed, in some cases, to even produce their own children. So this was yet another form of containment under apartheid. PS: Yes, and another thing which interests me is that the nanny’s role of surrogate mother also made her a threatening figure and the target of many myths during the years of the ‘swart gevaar’ or ‘black peril’. During this time there were always stories going around that if, for instance there was going to be a black take-over that one of the most terrifying places would be in the domestic space because that was where black women had power and opportunity. And I experienced an anxiety about that so-called split subject—my beloved nanny—when I was little. That in the end makes the subjectivity of black women really complex and virtually impossible to represent for me, other than through lots of fractured, different stories and different images and different ways. AC: The thing which interests me about the Tula-Tula series is that here the ambivalences are contained within a single series and repeated in different ways. The fact that you gave it the name of a famous Zulu lullaby tula-tula—is also significant. Again it’s about a potentially ‘shared’ experience between black and white. Paradoxically the white child recognizes and is soothed by the lullaby which also nurses and comforts the black child. At the same time the pose in the snapshot is resonant of Christian religious iconography and consequently the viewer becomes conscious of an uncomfortable juxtaposition between violence (‘terrorisme’) and the nurturing sacrifices one might associate with the Madonna figure. PS: ‘Tula’ is also a command to ‘keep quiet’ or ‘become quiet’. If one thinks of the sign of ‘tula-tula’ you hear the voice of a black woman and that’s a kind of nourishment. AC: AC: You mentioned the difficulties in dealing with subjectivity. One of the big questions this raises is whether or not it’s possible or even desirable to