Good Chat: Karabo Mooki
Through a string of disposable cameras, Karabo Mooki found his calling—photojournalism. Born and raised in Johannesburg, South Africa, Mooki sought community and connection through his lens, a pursuit later amplified by a frenetic stir of afropunk rockers and skateboarders occupying his circle.
Photos: Karabo Mooki / IG: @mookimooks.
Mooki's portraiture carries both a literal and figurative closeness. The connection to his subjects is palpable, we're left feeling less like distant observers and more like front-row participants—often short of breath. It’s a voyeuristic privilege—spontaneous, vulnerable, and kinetic every time.
By dismantling misconceptions of race, gender, sexuality, and class, Mooki offers a direct and unfiltered portrayal of identity and community. Captured amidst the chaos, Mooki's gritty portfolio kicks and screams counterculture—with work featured in Rolling Stone, i-D Italy, Photo Vogue, The Skateroom, The Wall Street Journal, and Monster Children.
In this edition of Good Chat, we sit down with Mooki to talk about growing up in Soweto, the power of authentic representation, and dashing the status quo to pieces. Read on.
Mooki, so great to connect, man. For those reading, tell us a little bit about yourself.
Thank you, I’m really hyped to have this opportunity. Introductions can be so layered, but I’ll keep it concise. I am Karabo Mooki, but everyone knows me as Mooki. I’m a photographer and director from Johannesburg, South Africa, and I recently relocated to Sydney, Australia.
Tell us about your journey into photography? What inspired you to first pick up a camera?
I gravitated to photography from an early age, attentively scanning through family photo albums and a collection of DRUM magazines. At age 10, I would hound my mom for disposable cameras, anticipating trips to the stationary store that ran a photo lab to see what magic I conjured up. Years later, I fell in love with skateboarding and by proxy, I was introduced to a plethora of skateboarders and photographers who were creating immaculate art in my eyes. Skateboarding implored me to want to document life as it was unfolding, but what inspired me to pick up a camera was my curiosity for human connection. In my twenties, I learnt I wanted to be able to use photography as a sacred tool and a gateway to connecting with and empowering communities I came into proximity with.
The humble disposable camera claims another victim. What did you graduate to?
The first analogue camera I owned was a Pentax K1000 – god bless that camera. I would take it out on skate sessions and it eventually became a travel buddy with me while I lived in Bangkok for almost two years until I discovered a world of medium format cameras. I also kept a Nikon D300S with my nifty 50 on me at all times - the cost of film has never been kind to us.
You grew up in Soweto, the largest township on the outskirts of Johannesburg. What was the scene like growing up there?
I grew up in Soweto as a toddler, and at the end of apartheid, my family relocated to a suburban area that was one of a few areas allocated for Black and brown families welcoming racial integration. I would spend a lot of my school holidays and weekend family visits in Soweto, but I was never exposed to skateboarding or punk culture during that time. The prevalent memories I had in the township was the lack of access, there was no social cohesion or infrastructure for the subcultures that would later consume me.
How has your background influenced your photography style and subject matter?
My background has helped emphasize the message of my work, which is a celebration of community. I find happiness in exploring political themes and stories that spotlight communities. Being connected to conversations that explore the importance of social awareness is a duty I feel honoured to be a part of - celebrating authenticity and upholding the trust that people instill in me as a storyteller.
It shows! Did you have any mentors or influences as you developed your practice?
Peter Magubane, Ernest Cole, Dawoud Bey, and Joseph Rodriguez have been great storytellers that I have sought inspiration from. Documentarians whose work upheld a deep sense of integrity and truth. They sought to tell stories of communities close to them, and the social-political work they achieved is everything I to aspire to in my work.
Tell us a little more about the punk rock scene and community in Soweto. What is the Dogg Pound?
The punk rock scene and community in Soweto is growing and there to stay. To me the emergence of the punk scene feels like a political statement that has given Black youth a space to navigate their identity in their environment.
The Dogg Pound was home to the band members of T.C.I.Y.F, it became a safe haven for skateboarders, artists and punk rockers in the community to gather with the rise of a growing counterculture scene in Soweto.
Your project Dogg Pound Days is a celebration of skateboarding and Afropunk counterculture in Soweto. How did the project first come about?
The documentation came about organically, I grew up loving skateboarding and the punk scene but these had been predominately white spaces, and when I came to learn about how the scene was growing in Soweto, I felt like it was a calling to be a part of sharing the story of a community I hold close to my heart. Working with the Soweto punk community, I was inspired by our determination to build something together against those who preferred to see us fail.
It’s not typically socially accepted being Black and gravitating toward these subcultures, and yet these young Black punk rockers have been spearheading a movement like no other in the township, and the movement resonates deeply with me.
What was it like working with bands like T.C.I.Y.F., Twenty One Children, and Shameless?
Unpredictable, but mostly unforgettable. It’s been an absolute privilege to have shared time with these musicians and I can’t wait for the rest of the world to fall in love with their music and their stories.
What does T.C.I.Y.F. stand for?
When I started my documentation of the band they were known as The Cum In Your Face, but I believe now they’re known as The Calm In Your Face. I guess the new name is a little easier to swallow.
Ha! My favourite thing to photograph has always been live music, as there's something about the raw energy of the situation, whether it's shooting a stadium band from the pit or capturing a living room mosh pit. What was the energy like on the Dogg Pound Days project and travelling with T.C.I.Y.F.? It looks chaotic in the best way possible...
The energy was addictive and contagious; there’s a certain unpredictability when you’re young, almost as if there is an infinite search for more chaos than tranquillity. No one day was ever the same, and a lot of the time, I felt an electricity in the air, like the calm before a storm. Spending time with the band taught me to become more intuitive and to search for the beauty in both the chaos and the mundane.
Just how important are bands like T.C.I.Y.F. and what they represent in regards to breaking down stereotypes in music and skateboarding culture, not just in South Africa but globally?
It is incredibly important for the world to engage in conversations of inclusion – and much like in 2020, we need to continue to champion for Black creatives to be involved in the storytelling of Black communities. As a society, we need to continue to dismantle the perpetuation of fitting the Black identity within a one-dimensional box.
This community of skateboarders and punk rockers have been cultivating a scene of their own, imploring the youth to define their own identity and reshape the narrative of what it means to be Black and from the township. This community rejected the idea of being left out of conversations and has been actively dismantling stereotypes and challenging the media’s voyeuristic perversion of what Soweto is. They continue to push for greater representation and to uplift a strong community.
How does community lend to interesting moments through a lens?
I learnt to embrace trust in many different shapes. I learnt the importance of building trust with community, and I learnt how to trust myself even when I doubt myself. I continue to learn to trust that I will make mistakes and that it’s all part of the process. It’s an infinite learning process that will test you at every opportunity.
The thing that stands out to me in the series is your ability to seamlessly be in the right place at the right time to capture some of these raw and powerful moments. When shooting live music or documentary-style photography, for that matter, are there any particular cues or moments you look out for? How do you approach storytelling through your photographs?
Again, being intuitive helps, and I believe that it is vital for storytellers to be connected to the story and the community. Authentic storytelling is driven from passion and excelled by those that are inherently connected to the community that they are documenting.
Any hot tips for shooting in such a rowdy setting?
Treat everyone with respect and stay hydrated.
What elements do you seek within a frame, and how far do you push these considerations?
I love natural light and organic moments, the rest is trusting the process and allowing the magic to reveal itself.
The project also captures the rise of skateboarding in Soweto and features The Soweto Skate Society. Are T.C.I.Y.F. and S.S.S connected?
Yeah, they’re all intertwined and all rooted from the same love child. SSS came first, and through the growth of the Soweto skate scene, T.C.Y.I.F was born. It was like a perfect storm.
How do you think these two countercultures crossover, and through your lens, what similarities do you see within the punk rock and skate communities?
There’s a monumental foundation of DIY ethics with no governing bodies dictating rules. I noticed an inherent rebellion that strives within these communities. The Soweto punk movement embodies a revolutionary spirit in an environment that was designed to segregate and keep Black people oppressed. The community has perpetuated the importance of social cohesion within South Africa, providing spaces for the youth to congregate and respectfully embrace and challenge each other’s ideas and beliefs, offering creative spaces for their revolutionary ideas to be celebrated freely in a post-apartheid South Africa.
Did you grow up skateboarding yourself?
Yeah, I got into it at 16, which seems relatively late compared to most kids today, but it’s stuck with me even now as I’m going on 37. Be careful what you wish for.
Your series Island Gals documents the rise of young Black women in skateboarding. Can you tell us a little more about the female skate movement in South Africa and the importance of capturing this evolving community?
It’s important to understand that South Africa has a tumultuous history with gender-based violence; the right to occupy public space is not equally shared amongst genders. Women are often met with harassment, micro-aggressions, and other threats that make them feel unsafe and unwelcome in public spaces. Crews of skateboarders, such as the “Island Gals” and “Spectrum”, are recreating the narrative by actively organizing and occupying spaces that many have previously felt uncomfortable being in. Their passion for skateboarding and community transcends through each individual, and there is an undeniable sense of dedication to skateboarding and pushing for greater representation within the sport.
The collective work of Black women in skateboarding has been impossible to ignore, and as a documentarian, I found myself in the fortunate position of working alongside these dominant forces to help share their message globally. Placing the lens on Black women in skateboarding has been important to help spotlight issues of inclusion and representation.
Outside of photography, what is your creative outlet? How do you pass time?
Playing chess has always been a good way to spend time with friends back home. I watch a lot of documentaries, go to galleries, tap into music and gigs, the usual art scene stuff. Getting out to nature, seeking out markets and good spots to eat, and spending time at the beach now that I live in Sydney.
Your work has been exhibited internationally, including at Art Basel in Miami, New York, Denmark, Cape Town, and Berlin, and you've won multiple industry awards. It's a prestigious list of affairs. What advice do you have for young documentary photographers wanting to follow in your footsteps?
So much can be said, I’d like to start off with; be patient, embrace failure, prepare yourself for a lot of rejection, being a creative in today’s era, which can be very lonely, don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s and advocate for yourself. There are a lot of people that will recognise your skill but won’t always value what you bring to the creative world.
Sound advice! What's in the crosshairs for Mook Sight? Is there an ultimate goal or achievement you're pushing for in your career?
I’m trying to figure it out day by day. Hoping for some more balance and to connect with people in the art and commercial landscape who are willing to work together. The ultimate goal is to be able to look back at stories that moved people and shaped a generation.
Are there any continual themes or narratives you aim to convey through your photography and impressive body of work?
I want to celebrate the communities I have the privilege of working with. I want to be a part of making the revolution irresistible.
Is there a particular photo in your portfolio that stands out to you? If so, which one and why?
I don’t know if it’s helpful for me to attach myself to one particular photo, but there are many memories that led up to the moments I was fortunate to capture that really fill me with love for this practice.
Is there any frame you 'missed' that still haunts you?
At this stage, there have been countless moments; it feels like every time I make a considered choice not to bring a camera with me. But that’s the beauty of life and photography; there will be opportunities missed, and there will be others that reveal themselves to you. It’s all about what you do with those moments to help you learn and grow.
Any new projects on the horizon?
I’m going to have to keep those ideas close to me for now. Hopefully, when the time is right, you’ll know more about it, and we can revisit this question then.
When working on ongoing projects, how do you stay motivated and inspired in your work?
Trusting the process and realising that it takes time to get to where you want to be. It’s not always easy psychologically, financially, or emotionally, but reminding myself to step outside of it helps me to realise the message of the work is bigger than capturing the perfect image.
Dream shoot scenario... pick a subject matter, a location, and a camera setup. Who or what are you shooting, and why?
It’s an overwhelming question with so many possible answers. A few people come to mind: my mother, bell hooks, Fred Hampton and MF Doom, as they’ve all impacted my life greatly. I would want to photograph them in the homes they were raised in with my Mamiya 645.
What cameras and film stock are you running at the moment?
I’m close to my Mamiya 645 and RB67. I also recently reunited with my Rolleiflex. And when it comes to film stock, I’m a sucker for Kodak Portra and Kodak Trix 400.
Mamiya glass, how good! Do you prefer shooting digital or film?
I have an unconditional love for film, and it will be the death of me financially. But I believe both have a place in photography. As long as you’re telling a story, it doesn’t matter what medium.
What's in your Hung Supply Sidewalk Camera Sling?
This bag is fascinating; every time I use it I make new discoveries, new ways to pack the bag with all its unique and accessible compartments. I took it with me on a trip to Bermagui recently, and I had it strapped to me every day. Currently, I have my Mamiya 645, with an 80mm lens and 35mm lens with rolls of film. Alternatively, I pack my Canon R6 Mark ii with an 18-70mm lens.
If you could only shoot one camera for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Anything analogue, I can’t be too particular, but if it's film orientated, I’d be happy with that life sentence.
What's the most surreal place you've ventured to on a photography assignment?
I got a call from the Wall Street Journal to go to Tugela Falls, located in the Drakensberg in South Africa, which left a lasting impression on my heart. But now that I’m based in Sydney, I’d love to explore more of Australia and get some assignments flowing.
Lastly, name three Instagram handles we should check out and why. They can be photographers, friends, inspirations...
@internetfamous—Jerry Hsu knows how to create impressionable work from everyday sightings, and his work is void of any ego.
@jenkemmag—If Big Brother skate mag were still alive, they would be siblings. Skateboarding needed this publication in a world of oversaturated vanilla skate media.
@lindokuhle.sobekwa—Photographer from South Africa whose work should be in international museums. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.
Thanks Mooks, see you around the traps.
Check out more of Mooki's work, HERE.
