JohnJohannesburg, is an East Rand–born multidisciplinary creative currently based in Johannesburg, South Africa. His practice moves fluidly between visual art, design, music, and street expression, but always with a single thread running through it: a mirror held up to society. His work questions inner existence, the behaviors of human beings, and the social conditions that shape life in the city..
For JohnJohannesburg, tagging became both a form of breathing and a form of rebellion. His mark in the city is not just about visibility, but about existence itself. Through his pseudonym, he explores how one makes a mark in a world where the odds are stacked against you, and how silent rebellion can still shape collective memory. This conversation reflects on that practice of marking space, resisting invisibility, and simply existing.
Interviewer: Let’s start with your tag — KANG. What does it mean?
JohnJohannesburg: KANG is a pseudoword that comes from the Sotho word “ka eng”. Which asks the question: with what?
With what resources — when the economy is like this?
With what jobs — when opportunities are closed off?
With what connections — when the networks don’t include us?
There aren’t even fresh trees — so how do they expect a Black man to breathe?
That’s what KANG is about. It’s peripheral commentary. It’s asking: with what are we supposed to build, create, and dream when everything around us is stacked against us?
Interviewer: Your tagging does actually feel like a kind of social commentary. So, who is the message really for? Is it just another layer within the city, or do you imagine a specific audience recognizing it?
JohnJohannesburg: Honestly, I don’t do it for anyone. For me, tagging isn’t about asking questions or demanding attention. It’s something that exists in the background of people’s minds rather than right in front of them. You’re looking at things without realizing you’re looking at them — that’s where the tag operates. It’s not about whether people see it or not; it’s about how it lingers at the edge of awareness.
Interviewer: So, even if it’s not about visibility, it still contributes to culture, right?
JohnJohannesburg: For sure. It’s part of the culture of writing. We see ourselves more as writers than graffiti artists. Writing has always been about reacting to society — it’s a kind of rebellion. By putting something in the streets, I’m contributing to that culture, to that reaction. It’s not rebellion for the sake of it, but it’s still a disruption, still unexpected.
Interviewer: That’s interesting because it leads into my next question. Johannesburg has gone through heavy waves of gentrification, especially places like Braamfontein and Maboneng. Spaces are changing. How do you see that impacting your work and tagging in general?
JohnJohannesburg: I’ve experienced gentrification personally. I’ve lived it. When it happens, you either get pushed out, or you try to create your own slice of the city. My vision is to build something with my people — a space for us, by us — the same way other parts of Joburg have been reshaped. I don’t want to be just displaced. I want to claim and redefine space with my community.
When it comes to tagging in gentrified areas, I actually like the challenge. The more polished and “friendly” the space becomes, the more exciting it is to tag there. The risk makes it meaningful — whether that’s within the writing community or just as a personal act of rebellion. It’s a kind of silent revenge, leaving a mark where you’re not welcome.
Interviewer: So in a way, gentrification almost intensifies the meaning of tagging?
JohnJohannesburg: Exactly. The more unwelcome you feel, the more powerful the act becomes. For me, it’s not about being seen directly — it’s about leaving traces that people can’t ignore, even if they don’t know who left them. It’s that silent rebellion.
Interviewer: Beyond tagging, you’re also a DJ, a graphic designer, and a creative director. Do you see any connection between those practices and your tagging?
JohnJohannesburg: Honestly, no. Tagging exists on its own. It doesn’t connect with my other work. DJing, graphic design, creative direction — those things are loud, public, performative. Tagging is different. It’s quiet, subtle, and sometimes even dangerous. It’s not about blending them; it’s about letting each live in its own lane.
Interviewer: Even if they don’t connect directly, does tagging impact the other work you do? Like, after a night in the city tagging, does it influence you when you step into your other roles the next day?
JohnJohannesburg: Yeah, definitely. It influences me in the sense that tagging is also an observation — of the community, of society, of how people react when they encounter it. That experience keeps me inspired. It keeps me young. The adrenaline keeps me open-minded. So even if it’s not directly linked to design or DJing, it benefits everything else I do by sharpening how I see the world.
Interviewer: Looking back on your journey as a multidisciplinary artist, what do you think your mark says about you and your place in the system?
JohnJohannesburg: To be honest, I don’t care. I don’t care how I’m perceived or what my work says about me to others. For me, tagging is just breathing. It’s about existing fully and unapologetically. That’s all that matters.
Interviewer: And finally, do you have any advice for other creatives navigating the space of making their mark?
JohnJohannesburg: Yes. My advice is simple: JUST BE.
Listening to JohnJohannesburg, one quickly realizes that tagging for him is not about artifice or spectacle. It is about survival, existence, and the refusal to disappear. His tag — KANG — crystallizes a question many wrestle with daily: with what resources, with what opportunities, with what breath are we supposed to build?
Whether in the city streets, in his design practice, or in his music, John insists on one thing: to exist fully and unapologetically. His marks are not made to be explained or to satisfy outsiders — they are acts of presence, acts of breathing. For other creatives navigating their own struggles with visibility and meaning, his advice is disarmingly simple but deeply profound: Just be.