When art intersects with activism, it has the power to transcend boundaries, challenge norms, and ignite conversations that matter. Zanele Muholi’s recent win of the 2026 Hasselblad Award—often dubbed the ‘Nobel Prize of photography’—is a testament to this very phenomenon. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how Muholi’s work goes beyond mere aesthetics. It’s a bold statement about identity, resistance, and the enduring fight for visibility. Personally, I think this award isn’t just a recognition of Muholi’s talent; it’s a celebration of their unwavering commitment to amplifying voices that have long been marginalized.
One thing that immediately stands out is Muholi’s ability to merge artistry with activism seamlessly. Their series, Somnyama Ngonyama and Faces and Phases, aren’t just photographs—they’re archives of resilience. What many people don’t realize is that these works are more than visual masterpieces; they’re acts of defiance against systemic erasure. Born during apartheid, Muholi understands the weight of untold stories. Their lens doesn’t just capture faces; it captures histories, struggles, and triumphs. If you take a step back and think about it, this is what art should do—challenge, provoke, and heal.
What this really suggests is that photography, in Muholi’s hands, becomes a tool for social change. The Hasselblad Foundation’s recognition of their work isn’t just about artistic merit; it’s an acknowledgment of the power of visual storytelling in shaping narratives. From my perspective, this award is a victory for the LGBTQIA+ community, for Black lives, and for anyone who’s ever felt unseen. Muholi’s words—‘I resist in order to make sense’—resonate deeply. They remind us that art isn’t just about beauty; it’s about survival.
A detail that I find especially interesting is Muholi’s emphasis on archiving. In a world where Black and queer histories are often erased, their work is a deliberate act of preservation. ‘Nobody spoke to us about why we needed to produce and save stories of our communities,’ Muholi said. This raises a deeper question: What happens when entire narratives are lost? Muholi’s photography isn’t just for today; it’s for future generations to see themselves reflected in history.
If we expand this further, Muholi’s win is a cultural milestone. It challenges the predominantly white, heteronormative gaze that has long dominated the art world. In my opinion, this award is a step toward decolonizing art spaces and redefining who gets to tell whose stories. What makes Muholi’s approach so compelling is its authenticity. They don’t just document; they participate, resist, and exist within the communities they portray.
Looking ahead, Muholi’s solo exhibition at the Hasselblad Center promises to be more than a display of photographs. It’s an invitation to engage with stories that are often overlooked. Personally, I’m excited to see how this platform will further amplify their message. But here’s the thing: Muholi’s work isn’t just for galleries. It’s for the streets, the classrooms, and the hearts of those who need it most.
In conclusion, Zanele Muholi’s Hasselblad Award win isn’t just a personal achievement; it’s a collective victory. It reminds us that art, at its best, is a mirror and a hammer—reflecting reality while breaking down barriers. As Muholi puts it, ‘Let’s produce content with a purpose.’ And in doing so, let’s ensure that no story, no identity, no struggle is ever forgotten.
