Activism comes in many forms in post-apartheid SA. Most recognisably, there is the protest march: solidarity expressed in speeches and songs and movement. The aim is usually disruption or spectacle, or a combination of both, a drawing of public attention towards a cause. Often, however, this mode of protest is more smoke-and-mirrors than sturm und drang — as with the EFF’s underwhelming “national shutdown” earlier this week.

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Then there are the less well advertised activists: whistle-blowers, community organisers, fundraisers. People who feed and teach and build. They are no less brave, no less committed and they outnumber the attention-seekers many times over.

Artists, too, can be loud or quiet in their activism. Some artists declare their political convictions and activist credentials repeatedly and insistently. Some artists simply pursue ways of making work (and of being a citizen) that attempt to intervene constructively in the lives of others, their contributions to the upliftment of individuals and communities all the more substantial because these are not explicitly signalled.

SUSAN WOOLF FALLS INTO THE LATTER CATEGORY.