Bongani Tshabalala for Gibela by FEDE Arthouse
Bongani Tshabalala conceptualised Searching For Textures, a sensory studio based in Jozi, dedicated to reimagining spaces and places through the use of fragrance, music, food, photography, text, and product design.
The studio has developed an extensive line of scented products, along with lifestyle items that perfectly complement the environments where the scents are presented. The brand believes that fragrance is an extension of personal expression, much like fashion, art, or music. “Your choice of fragrance should feel as natural and intentional as selecting your outfit or playlist each morning.” Our debut fragrance collection draws inspiration from Bongani’s favourite cities, with each scent offering a journey to its essence. Paired with curated music, photography, and text, this range delivers a truly immersive sensory experience.
What inspired the creation of Searching For Textures, and how do you envision it contributing to the cultural and creative landscape in South Africa and beyond?
My role is, in many ways, that of an archivist. In South Africa, many archives are disappearing or being sold to private estates and corporations. A striking example is the SABC’s archive South Africa’s national broadcaster doesn’t even own its own historical footage. The entire archive before 1998 is held in an office in London, meaning that if we need footage from before then, we have to lease it. That’s an outrageous reality.
I first learned about this when I was around 20 years old, and I found it shocking. The idea that the SABC, which played a crucial role in documenting our history, has lost ownership of its own material is absurd. People worked tirelessly to create, film, and produce these records of our past, yet the average South African has little to no access to them. If someone wanted to watch the 1996 AFCON final, for example, they’d have to navigate endless barriers just to find it.
Understanding this, I felt that the least I could do was start documenting my own real-life experiences in real time finding meaningful ways to capture and express them so that they remain accessible to the broader public.
Your studio integrates fragrance, music, food, and photography to create immersive experiences. How do you approach weaving these elements together to reimagine spaces and places?
This studio came about almost by accident pure coincidence. Between 2017 and 2020, right before COVID hit, I was traveling a lot. I’d carry a small keyboard with me and make music wherever I went, documenting my experiences through photography. My photography has always been focused on architecture because I believe buildings tell powerful stories. They stand apart from people, yet they reveal so much about a place its history, its character, its evolution.
At first, all of this was just personal documentation. Then, during COVID, a friend suggested I put together a photo book. But to me, a photo book alone felt limiting it didn’t fully capture the experience of these places. So instead, I decided to write a book. There are only two physical copies of it in existence, and I may release it one day. Around the same time, I was learning about fragrances, and I started thinking about how we experience places through all five senses sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. That idea became the foundation for a broader creative exploration: telling stories about places through sensory experiences.
That’s how the studio came to life. However, at the moment, it’s on a soft break. After Deco X, I felt the need to step back and focus on something more personal work that reflects my own creative capabilities outside of a structured studio environment or brand-driven projects. That’s where my energy is now, and it’s been going really well.
How does Searching For Textures engage with the concept of regional values, particularly in navigating and celebrating South Africa’s diverse and complex cultural narratives?
My response to this is rooted in how my studio was formed through my travels and experiences in different countries, which deepened my understanding of the places I visited. While I’ve explored regional nuances globally, I intentionally didn’t focus too much on cities like Johannesburg and Cape Town, as they’ve already been extensively documented. However, regional values are deeply nuanced; even within South Africa, places just 40 minutes apart can have entirely different cultural dynamics.
For instance, growing up in Yeoville, I was surrounded by people from North, Central, and Sub-Saharan Africa, which exposed me to a wide range of cultural influences. In contrast, Soweto, just a short distance away, has an entirely different cultural fabric. This contrast exists everywhere whether in the music scenes of different provinces or in the ways communities engage with art and storytelling.
Take South African music as an example. Gqom wasn’t expected to have the longevity it did, yet it persisted because of a few dedicated artists who kept pushing it forward. Similarly, amapiano, with its melodic and widely accessible sound, has become a global phenomenon an example of how something deeply regional can evolve, adapt, and resonate far beyond its origins. The same applies to art, where contemporary black artists are reinterpreting historical works through their own cultural lenses. Artists like Wonder Buhle, for example, have taken inspiration from Monet and infused their own traditions and narratives, creating something entirely new yet deeply rooted in heritage.
Regional values, then, are not just about geography; they are about how culture travels, adapts, and finds new meaning. When artists fully contextualize these values in their work, they open up new ways to bridge cultural and artistic gaps beyond traditional spaces like galleries and institutions. This is why the question of culture is so complex its meaning shifts depending on context. Some view it through the lens of heritage and tradition, while others associate it with pop culture. But at its core, culture is fluid, alive, and constantly evolving.
So, how do we define and navigate these regional values in a way that honors their origins while allowing them to expand and take new forms?
How do you feel about global design movements such as cubism and brutalism (which you reference) manifests specifically in your work?
As I mentioned before, I’m trying to move away from that particular body of work I gave it its time. But the state of design today is tricky. Someone asked me a similar question before, and I think we need to go back to the root of it: a lot of people aren’t interested in learning anymore. Not in the sense of formal education, but in the broader sense reading, researching, and truly understanding the history and context of what they create. There’s a saying that nothing is really new under the sun, and I think that holds true, especially in design.
For example, when I was studying Cubism and its origins, particularly in Paris, I became fascinated by the way black artists and intellectuals thrived in France. The French Revolution was monumental, and I’ve always admired how the French aren’t afraid to take action when they’re dissatisfied they strike, they protest, they make themselves heard. That spirit of resistance and reinvention is something I deeply respect.
Pablo Picasso, in particular, was a major influence. When I visited the Picasso Museum, I was able to trace his entire journey through his work, seeing firsthand how his sketches evolved into a fragmented yet cohesive visual language. At first, Cubism feels like chaos almost madness but when you step back, it all makes sense. That concept resonated with me, not just in art but in architecture as well.
Brutalism, for example, is something I see as inherently African. Look at Central and North Africa the University of Timbuktu, the geometric structures that define the region’s architectural history. Even in South Africa, buildings like Ponte Tower in Johannesburg embody this raw, almost defiant aesthetic. These structures challenge conventional design principles, creating forms that seem improbable yet somehow function perfectly.
This intersection of Cubism and Brutalism became the foundation for my last collection, which I showcased at Decorex. I was drawn to the idea of merging chaos and order, fragmentation and cohesion. In my crockery designs, I played with form each piece maintains a perfect structure at its core (whether it’s a cup, a bowl, or a plate), while the surrounding panels vary in size, fitting together in an almost puzzle-like way. The Cubist influence is in the fragmented elements, while Brutalism informs the bold, unconventional shapes. It’s a fusion of two styles that shouldn’t logically work together, but somehow do a kind of mishmash that settles into something beautiful and functional.
That was the driving concept behind my first collection of crockery: embracing structured imperfection, where disorder finds its own balance.
What new themes, mediums, or collaborations are you excited to explore in your ongoing journey to expand the boundaries of sensory and cultural storytelling?
I’ve been working on a series called For the Homies, which is essentially a way for me to showcase my skills in product design while creating functional art pieces inspired by personal experiences and cultural touchpoints. Each piece in the series reinterprets iconic designs, giving them new meaning and purpose beyond their original form.
The first piece I created was a Togo couch-inspired incense holder transforming the large, iconic design into a small ceramic sculpture with a functional twist. The concept behind the series is to design objects for the home, but more importantly, for my homies, my friends and community. Each piece draws inspiration from a particular memory, object, or cultural reference that has shaped me.
For instance, I designed puffer jackets for plants, which act as sculptural pot covers resembling oversized, quilted jackets. Another piece is a jewelry holder inspired by Pierre Paulin’s Conversation Couch, blending aesthetics with utility. One of the most meaningful projects I’m working on is a piggy bank in the shape of a Super 16 Toyota taxi, a nod to the taxi culture I grew up with where saving coins for fares was a part of daily life. This piece pays homage to that experience, connecting the act of saving money with the broader cultural significance of taxis in my community.
Another standout piece is a Telfar-inspired vase, reimagining the shape of the iconic Telfar bag as a ceramic flower vase. A friend once joked that I used to sample music, and now I’m sampling design which is actually a fitting way to describe my creative approach.
I have six more pieces left in the series, including one that will be featured in an upcoming exhibition. Initially, it was unclear how my work would fit into the show’s context, but after discussions, we found a meaningful way to incorporate it. This new piece ties back to my upbringing and cherished childhood memories whether at my grandfather’s home in Lesotho or my father’s place in KwaZulu-Natal. It will be made of ceramic, infused with deeply personal touches that reflect the stories and experiences that inspired it.
While I don’t always label myself an artist perhaps due to imposter syndrome I believe titles should be earned. That said, I feel incredibly fortunate to be part of a group of talented creatives showcasing at this exhibition. Ultimately, my goal is to create work that resonates beyond its physical form, allowing people to connect with it on a deeper level.
