You know that old saying, “One day, we’ll look back and laugh?”
Well, that’s what Montle Moorosi is doing full-time, as an avatar banished to the internet and now also as a really, really good artist. He’s doing the one thing that will not take away the past, but will sure make the future look cooler. He’s making it okay to smile.
Remember this old, kak joke?
“What’s worse than finding a worm in your apple?”
“Half a worm?”
“No. Rape.”
Full disclosure:
Rape is never and will never be funny. Like being a racist isn’t funny. Cheating on your husband isn’t funny. Stealing cell phones isn’t funny. Being poor isn’t funny. Hitting a homeless dude and driving on isn’t funny. It’s all shitty. But let’s be honest – people are shitty. They go to Tiger Tiger, beat up the cleaning lady and then cry like babies in court, trying to defend and lie their way out of shit. Montle never lies. He calls a spade a spade and he calls himself a dick when he is one. He’s so honest it’s become refreshing. Refreshing and revolutionary.
Since his very public dismissal from FHM in 2013 and yeah, I will bring it up because it’s not too soon. It’s done, it’s dusted, it was what it was and it was a mistake. A big mistake, sure, but it’s not big enough to justify the overall apathetic dismissal of a mind as bright, forward-thinking and courageous as this dude. He lost everything for that issue but he also spoke at the Design Indaba for chrissakes. He was once considered one of the brightest writers this country had to offer the world. Now he’s one of the best artists I’ve seen in ages. Other people who attended the very first Worst Thursday art exhibit, showcasing Montle’s first body of art, will agree with me. Montle Moorosi is back and he is not Bill Cosby. Bill Cosby is actually a proper doos. It’s a different medium from the written word but Montle’s art has got the same old flavour that made everyone sit up and take notice in the first place. It’s poes funny.
Before you accuse me of sucking his dingdong too much here and start commenting on our illicit affair because I’m a chick who doesn’t hate him – screw you. He’s been whipped like a slave, I’m pretty sure he’s self-flagellated plenty of times in between eating green jelly on Instagram and it’s over. So don’t be a dick. First Thursday is here to stay so try not to freak out from your high horse there at the Art Times; ous respect your shit and always will. This is where it’s at in my personal opinion.
His weird art career all started when he was pretty ill last year, I think. He was bedridden and just like Frida Kahlo, another revolutionary who didn’t give two fucks, he taught himself to draw. Mostly pretty white girl hair but that developed, grew faces, dragon heads and even satirical legs that make you look forward to each Instagram post he records of a finished piece of work.
I rocked up to the venue early to buy the portrait he did of me – one of his earliest ones – because I’m really vain. Our relationship has always been purely cyber, swapping our written work, pictures and ideas. It was cool to meet him and ask about his artistic process when creating a representation of a brown piece of shit. He was almost too nervous to talk about it because he was wearing some very white slacks. Basically he’s poking fun at the pretence, the cliques, the fakes, the judgemental PMSie, overwhelmingly prejudiced ideas on creativity and socialites. It’s more than that. Sometimes it waxes political, sometimes it is surreal and sometimes he is just trying to draw white girl hair, a bit better. It’s all intriguing, steeped in meaning and humour and I’m now the proud owner of an original.
I took a bunch of pictures of the exhibit.
Make up your own mind but do yourself a favour and get over the past. This is worth people’s time. Lol.
