Exploring identity – Tatenda Chidora's Metamorphosis continues

Only the rhythmic shh, shh, shh of a homekeeper’s broom could be heard amidst the steady buzz of the Malilangwe wilderness. It was a hot day — the kind that lulls you into a meditative state, where the mind wanders. And in the artist’s eye, the pile of seed pods gathering beneath the bristles was more compelling than the birds, the trees, the view over the dam. So he asked her to stop sweeping and gathered them.

“They’re not something I think a lot of people see,” says Tatenda Chidora, a Zimbabwe-born, South Africa-based photographer. “Maybe the trees as they go, but we never look at them in any kind of detail.”

This moment at Pamushana in late 2024 marked the beginning of Singita’s ongoing relationship with Tatenda, as part of our Africa Is… series — a collaborative project with artists from across the continent — and an evolution of his body of work titled Metamorphosis.

By constructing masks from found and natural materials, Chidora explores masculinity, identity, and belonging. “When we hide our faces, are we still who we pretend to be? What changes happen within us, and how does that translate?”

Metamorphosis continued to evolve in mid-2025 when he visited Sweni, and again with his return to the Kruger National Park in March 2026 — both times alongside videographer Julian Robinet, who documented his creative process and the seasonal shifts that alter the landscape.

“When we step out of our everyday worlds into the bush, we start to notice more,” says Tatenda. “I think everything that surrounds us should be appreciated.”

Weeks spent traversing some of Southern Africa’s most remote wildernesses yielded bounties of bushwillow, pod mahogany, Delagoa thorn, and wooden banana pods — materials he shaped into a collection of masks. “It’s about giving things new life. The seed pods represent an element of metamorphosis, even though I’m using them as a prop.”

Sometimes subtle, sometimes profound, metamorphosis is the natural process of change in stages, often from one form to another. It’s a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly; a tadpole emerging from the water as a frog; a person becoming a new or different or truer version of themselves over time.

“The reason why I cover faces is this metaphor of people hiding themselves. When you cover their face, you’re covering their identity,” Tatenda says. “It’s about peeling back a layer at a time.”

Understanding this explains why the seed pods drew his attention that day at Pamushana. They were evidence not only of what is, but of what could still be. “Seed pods disperse to different places but also hold life. One day, they will germinate somewhere and become a whole tree. The seed itself carries potential, the power to grow.”

And much like this, a mask isn’t only a means of hiding, but of becoming. An invitation to introspect. A reminder that change is constant — even when it feels imperceptible. That we, like the humble seed pod, hold the capacity to transform.

“The beautiful thing about transformation is that it happens to us as human beings every day.” But often, the change around us feels far greater than the change within us. Seed pods suggest otherwise. Wearing a mask both obscures us and makes it easier to reflect on how far we’ve come.