Thato Toeba: Collage of Justice
When I first spoke to Thato Toeba, I was struck not only by their clarity of thought but by the calm resolve with which they inhabit multiple worlds — those of art and law, of memory and material, of Lesotho and Amsterdam and of the spiritual and the political.
It’s no wonder then that the jury of the 2025 FNB Art Prize described their practice as “a quiet force”, praising the maturity of their collage and assemblage work.
Though they only recently emerged onto the visual arts scene, Toeba’s voice is already unmistakable — deeply philosophical, political and informed by the contradictions of life in the Global South.
They are part of a rising generation of artists from the African continent who are not only creating new visual languages, but also interrogating the systems that shape our histories, bodies and beliefs.
Born and brought up in Maseru, Lesotho, Toeba’s journey into art was anything but linear. Their academic path initially led them into the world of law and social science, where they trained as an advocate and wrote a PhD on corruption and legal structures.
Their legal thinking — analytical, structured, yet deeply concerned with justice, has remained central to how they now navigate visual storytelling.
“Law sensitised me to the world,” they told me during our conversation, “not just as a profession, but as a way of seeing.”
It wasn’t until 2023 that Toeba held their first solo exhibition, Phate lia Lekana, a Sesotho phrase that loosely translates to “when you lie down, the earth beneath you equals the sky above you”.
It served as both metaphor and motif for their show, a meditation on duality, double consciousness and the space between the natural and the political.
Their use of collage, meticulously arranged archival photographs, personal family images and religious iconography, invites the viewer to read rather than simply look.
“Images,” they say, “are very similar to law in both their materiality and consequence. They present themselves as truth, as objective but, like laws, they are constructed. They serve power.”
This informs their practice of deconstructing documentary photography, especially the visual language of Western publications like National Geographic, which historically have framed the Global South as impoverished, exotic and dependent.
In their hands, these images are disassembled, interrupted, recontextualised and often placed next to intimate family photographs or archival images that tell a different story, one of joy, life and resistance.
As someone who writes, I was particularly drawn to the way Toeba spoke about building a collage as one would construct an argument.
“It’s like when you write,” they told me. “You’re not always stating your conclusion outright but you arrange the sentences, the metaphors, the premises in such a way that the reader arrives at a certain truth. Collage allows me to do that visually.”
Their background in legal writing and academic research shows in the conceptual rigour of their work. Whether dealing with religion, corruption, colonial legacies or gender, their pieces are never didactic. Instead, they open up space for viewers to question the familiar.
In one piece, for example, images from missionary-run schools in early 20th-century Lesotho are juxtaposed with fragments of gospel lyrics and playful family snapshots, disrupting the notion of “the civilising mission” by offering a counter-narrative grounded in lived experience and cultural memory.
“There’s a temptation to see ourselves only through the frameworks given to us,” they say. “My work tries to interrupt that, especially for people from places like Lesotho, where there isn’t yet a strong infrastructure for visual art.”
This is precisely why winning the 2025 FNB Art Prize is so significant, not just for them personally, but for the broader arts ecosystem in Lesotho and Southern Africa.
Sum of the parts: Hlala Unathi, Stay With Us, 2024 by collage artist Thato Toeba. Photo: Courtesy of Thato Toeba and Stevenson Gallery
“It’s still quite unbelievable,” they admitted when I congratulated them. “I mean, I pivoted from law and to find myself among artists I look up to … it’s affirming.
“I’ve had a lot of doubts about whether I can call myself an artist. I didn’t go to art school.
“But moments like this, where others recognise your work, where they see you as an artist, make that self-doubt feel a little less useful.”
They also reflected on the wider effect: “In Lesotho, we’re used to seeing musicians go international. But in the visual arts, we’re still emerging. I hope this creates more visibility for artists back home. It’s important that we believe it’s possible.”
While Toeba’s visual language is often quiet, subtle gestures, muted palettes, delicate compositions, the content is anything but. Their work engages directly with questions of power, equity and post-colonial identity, especially within African states still shaped by settler legacies and global inequalities.
As they explained during our conversation, even in seemingly neutral domains such as religion or health, power is always at play.
“When I was researching corruption, I realised the political isn’t confined to parliament or courts. It’s in the church, in the hospital, in the school curriculum. These spaces shape how we understand ourselves and others.”
They draw parallels between the documentary photograph and legal discourse, both of which often claim neutrality while reinforcing particular narratives.
“When The New York Times runs a story on poverty and includes certain images, that’s a political act. It suggests certain people or countries need intervention. The image becomes an argument.”
By placing found images alongside personal ones, Toeba creates a friction that invites deeper reflection.
“I want people to ask: ‘What is being left out of this story? What else might be true?’”
Despite the heavy themes, there’s also an unmistakable warmth in their work, an attention to intimacy, family and the everyday. They often turn to family photos, hymns and gospel music as sources of healing and connection.
“When you’re singing a song you love, you’re not thinking about your job or your political identity. You’re just being.
“That moment of being, of connecting to yourself is very powerful.”
And yet, as they remind us, even these moments of joy are not free from politics.
“Colonisation used our humanness against us,” they note, referencing how cultural dances were performed for colonial authorities. “I’m interested in those contradictions — how deeply the human is also politicised.”
This tension is at the heart of their work. They are always operating in two worlds: one rooted in natural life, the other entrenched in political systems. Their collages live in that in-between space, trying to reclaim something essential.
Looking ahead, Toeba is preparing for a solo exhibition at the Johannesburg Art Gallery next year. It’s a major milestone and one that they are approaching with deep thoughtfulness.
“Johannesburg is such an interesting city, especially as someone from Maseru. Everyone has a migration story connected to Joburg, even within South Africa. It’s a city of movement and collision.”
They hope the exhibition will open up reflections on migration, belonging and African connectedness. Drawing on their own experiences of living in multilingual shared spaces, they spoke about the deep relationships that form through language, gesture and shared memory.
“When I first lived with Xhosa friends in Cape Town, I didn’t understand the language. I had to translate mentally from Sesotho to English to isiXhosa. But, over time, that middle step fell away.
“What remained was something deeper — a kind of recognition.”
Their goal with the upcoming show is to create that same sense of recognition for audiences.
“I hope people see themselves in the work — not just their image, but their memory, their music, their struggles and joys. I want to make visible how connected we are across these so-called borders.”
In every way, Toeba challenges how we define an artist. They didn’t graduate from art school or spend years on the global residency circuit before being “discovered”.
Instead, they brought their legal mind, their poetic intuition and their lived experience to the canvas and, in doing so, is carving a space that’s entirely their own.
Toeba speaks with the clarity of a lawyer, the empathy of a storyteller and the vision of a philosopher. Their work is layered, political, deeply human and always searching.