Last Thursday we sat down in a small studio in Maboneng with a stack of printed photographs, a notebook half-filled with scribbled directions, and a list of venues that had been recommended to us three times too many to ignore. The goal was simple: decide what the next issue actually covers, and what gets left out.

The conversation kept returning to the same tension. There are the stories that are easy to tell — a new mural going up, a well-known band releasing a record — and then there are the stories that take longer to surface. The ones that require sitting in a room for an hour before anyone says something useful. The planning session was mostly about making room for those slower stories.

We went through a shortlist of artists and spaces that have been on our radar since the beginning of the year. Some names came with strong opinions attached. One photographer argued for a piece on the small print shops in Durban that still do hand-pulled posters for local shows. Another editor pushed back, saying we had already covered that ground in a previous issue. The debate was useful, not because anyone won, but because it forced us to be specific about what we are trying to document.

By the end of the session we had settled on a rough structure. The issue will lead with a long-form interview with a Cape Town-based artist whose work has been appearing on walls across the city for the past two years. We will pair that with a photographic essay on a cluster of galleries in Johannesburg that operate without formal funding. There is also a playlist feature in the works, built around recordings from a DIY venue that has been running for just over a year.

What struck me most about the session was how much time we spent talking about what we would not cover. There were plenty of obvious stories we could have added, but the issue already had a shape, and adding more would have diluted it. The discipline of saying no is part of the job, even when it feels like turning down something interesting.

The next step is fieldwork. Over the coming weeks we will be visiting the spaces we discussed, recording conversations, and taking the photographs that will anchor the issue. The plan is not fixed — it rarely is — but it gives us a direction. That is enough for now.

When I started documenting the DIY venue circuit in Johannesburg, I had a notebook, a phone with a dying battery, and a list of addresses that turned out to be mostly wrong. The first week was less about grand discoveries and more about learning how the city actually works after dark.

The practical reality of covering underground culture is that nothing runs on schedule. A warehouse show in Jeppestown might start at nine, or it might start at midnight. The sound engineer is also the door person, and the person selling tickets is usually in the band. You adjust your expectations or you miss the whole thing.

What became clear quickly: the useful information never comes from a press release. It comes from the person stacking crates at the back, or the regular who has been coming since the venue was a textile factory. That first week taught me to ask different questions and to trust the details that seem too small to matter.

By the end of the week I had a working map of the scene, a list of contacts who actually respond, and a better sense of what makes a space worth covering. The constraints are real — noise complaints, unreliable transport, cash-only bars — but they are also part of the story.