Red Heads of the African Bush

If you’ve ever been in Africa on a hot afternoon when the smouldering sun is intent on roasting anything which is stupid enough to be found exposed on the dry cracked hot plate of soil, then you will know what the intense heat of such an afternoon can do to an artist’s imagination. One of my favourite things to do on days when all sane individuals have retired to the cool shade of veranda’s and trees, is to brave the scorching heat and to walk into the veld.  Once alone I locate a small hill which will afford me an open view of a valley. From such a vantage point I can see miles across the swimming and dancing landscapes as the afternoon heat brings mirages and illusions of cool water flowing across the thirsty scene.

Once out of the stinging view of the sun, the hot shade of a Mimosa tree allows me to relax and enjoy the silence of the African bush.  It is a silence like no other and at first one could be excused for thinking that you have lost your hearing in the thick silence. It is like having a pillow over your head and just as you are about to click your fingers to reassure yourself that you have not lost your hearing suddenly some flying insect races past. Its sound passes, in stereo, first from one ear, then past your face and onto the next, punctuating the silence with its buzz. As you sit and wait, slowly your ears become accustomed to the soundtrack which accompanies the scene and you begin to hear the bush as if for the first time, the scene ushered in on an overture of sound from screeching cicada beetles.

To those who are familiar with the bush this will not be a new experience and will be one which is almost taken for granted.  For me who has had his ears anaesthetised by the white noise of the city however this is like regaining consciousness after surgery. The sounds of the hot afternoon begin to penetrate my memory banks of sounds deposited from the years I was raised in Africa.

I have never found it easy to paint in the outdoors; perhaps it’s the uncertain and disorderly nature of painting away from the familiar and ordered character of my studio that I find hard. Painting with watercolour under these conditions is difficult as the heat dries out the paper and pigment very fast, adding another layer of complexity to the process. On these occasions I rely on my camera, lenses and an ability to compile a scene which I will enjoy painting on my return to my little studio. During the long cold and damp months of an English winter, painting scenes like these will bring with them the warm memories and sounds of a hot afternoon in the veld. The contrast of colours are inspiring; from the vermillion orange of the aloe flowers to the duck-egg blue of the sky and from the rich browns and khaki shades of the grass to the deep greens of the mimosa trees.

The memory of this view and the small outcrop of iron stone boulders and shady mimosa trees will serve as the canvas on which I will paint the narrative of an afternoon spent in the company of these five lovely ladies the “red heads” of Harrison Farm.

Although I have many photographs of similar scenes I have used this lovely photo taken by my good friend and owner of Harriosn Farm & Harrison Hope Wine Estate, Ronnie Vehorn   &  The Traveling Writer

Less is More & Small is Big

One could be forgiven for thinking that the tiny studio on Tuckton Road Christchurch might not have enough exhibition space to be taken seriously, but that would be a mistake.  True, there is not a lot of space and if you wanted to swing a cat around this would not be your first choice of location. As a studio-cum-gallery however all the available wall space is occupied with landscapes, portraits of movie stars and animal portraits, the products of many, many hours of dedicated and focused work.

Rod Pease was introduced to brushes and paints in 1970 at the age of twelve when his father presented him with a painters box set. While Rod,who attended art college at the age of sixteen and seventeen wanted to paint, his father wanted him to have a “real job”. So it was that he entered the world of employment as an apprentice tool-maker,  a very technical and precise trade, now a quality which is reflected in much of his work today.

Rod, who also lived in the Netherlands for some time was able to have one-to-one tuition while living in Almelo, a town of approximately 72 000 people. It was only in May of this year, 2011, that Rod finally made the transition from tool-maker to full-time artist. Since then he has spent all his time behind the large shop window from where he can be seen from the street, painting at of his easel.

I spotted the little studio some months back and, ever curious and keen to meet a fellow artist, I turned the door knob one Saturday morning and introduced myself. Rod, who is of sight build and keen eye is a friendly and very helpful chap and I can guarantee that you will always find him ready to welcome you and open to talk about his work.

Rod has a very distinct style and gives great attention to detail.  This I assume is a trait he developed  from years of work machining items and components of incredibly accurate proportions and measurement. While I consider a tape measure with millimeters to be accurate, Rod’s choice of measuring tool would be a micrometer, parameters too tight for an impressionist brush like mine.

In the studio you will discover a mix of subjects, landscapes, portraits, figurative works and animal portraits, each painted with care and flair, capturing atmosphere and character alike. I am particularly struck by Rods use of colour, especially in his more dramatic sunsets. Rod’s palate is a colourful one but his mixing and use of colours remains true to the scenes he paints. There is a lovely naive richness about his application of colour, a richness which would throw some artists onto a panic. Rod however captures his subjects with a optimistic eye and a warm blend of colour; the more I see his work the more I like it.

Rod is also a member of “the Hub”, a group of local artists who meet regularly and who are seeking greater local and trans-local recognition. He is a member of the Bournemouth Chamber of Trade and Commerce and has a strong belief in local businesses and the  role it plays in sustaining the area’s character and prosperity.

If you are passing by and Rod is in, why not pop in for a visit, view his work and be inspired. Better sill, why not take a piece of his work home, you will find Rob’s art well priced and affordable. There is simply nothing as good as an original work on your wall, l especially when you know the artist.

 

Portraits with a story Attached

Generally I keep Friday’s open for local issues, appointments and opportunities to meet with interesting and creative people. This was one of my goals for 2011; to spend more time doing the things I love the most. Fridays have become my reading, writing, painting and meeting day and my diary pages are reflecting that, so far, I am on track. 

Last Friday I pencilled in a coffee date with Paul Stillwell a portrait artist who works out of his home studio in Poole Dorset. A mutual friend Bob Chivers, an architect and artist living in Hampshire, had introduced me to Paul’s work. At 10am promptly I rang the doorbell to Paul’s apartment and was rewarded by the buzz of the security lock and the gate swinging open. A warm handshake and a smile greeted me at the door to the apartment and soon the kettle was boiling and tea was being poured.

Paul is a quietly spoken man with a gentle spirit and a soft manner. He is laid back as you would generally expect from a creative mind but with a sharp twinkle in his eye and a good sense of humour. It was not too long before we were talking about his work, his life and the adventures that the love he has for his work has embarked him on.

The walls of his studio apartment are hung with what Paul calls his “best pieces”, portraits of celebrities, each signed by the celb and a few with a short message. I was immediately struck by the relationship Paul has with each portrait and the way he enjoys reliving the experience of painting the piece and the associated journey to get it signed.

Paul related a number of stories about the obstacles he encounters getting within range of a celb and the of the smoke and mirror tactics he has had to employ to connect with the person. To say that he has the tenacity of a British Bulldog is an understatement, travelling great distances, standing around for hours, dealing with the celebrity security cordons and over protective publicists are only a few of the hurdles he had to clear.

Paul’s rewards for his tenacity and commitment have however paid off and on the walls hang the signed portraits of Robert De Nero, Al Pacino, Jennifer Lopez, Johnny Depp, to name a few and I believe, his greatest achievement, the Dali Lama. These are more than simply signed portraits, they are milestones, milestones which are an important part of Paul’s personal journey, not only as an artist but also as someone exploring the spiritual nature and relationship between an artist and a subject.

I view and engage with a great many artists and their work but have always had a special regard for portrait artists. Having attempted portrait painting on several occasions myself and having downed my brushes in unfulfilled frustration, I was able to really appreciate Paul’s work. The one great quality of his work, which was immediately obvious to me, is Paul’s ability to capture “the attitude” of his subjects. Paul spoke of how the portrait of Robert De Nero defied his attempts to capture Mr De Nero’s subtle and almost secretive nature. After much effort Paul had one of those “eureka moments” when suddenly, after a few small brush strokes to the subtle curve in the subjects mouth, there before his eyes, emerged the depth he needed to capture the spirit of the man.

Our visit could have lasted much longer but I had already taken up two hours of Paul’s day. We had covered so many topics in our time together; painting, people and the nature of our journeys as artists. We had touched on the practical, the material and the spiritual. We had spoken about the demands that creativity makes on our lives and the price we willingly pay to honour the call to expression. We spoke about the commercial value of Paul’s work and his road to recognition as a popular artist. We discussed successful marketing and the compromises an artist has to consider in the quest for commercial retail status. Paul currently exhibits his work in galleries and has held a few small exhibitions that have produced a number of commissions.

As we shook hands and I departed from Paul, his studio apartment and the company of his portraits, I couldn’t help feeling like I had got to know all three in a rather profound and special way.  I intend to keep a close eye on Paul and his work and look forward to another inspiring Friday’s visit to this gifted young man and his inspiring work and ongoing story.

 

Exhibitions and Opportunities for friendship

There are few things, for me, that are as engaging as talking to creative people about their passion for art or crafts and so it was, with much excitement and anticipation, that I headed towards Lee, a small village in Hampshire. http://ow.ly/5y0AV . I had been invited to attend by Janet Langford an extremely gifted lady whose miniatures defy belief in their detail. Janet is the wife of Alan Langford a respected member of the society of equestrian artists. Janet is a lady who is accustomed to “life in miniature” having been a biological researcher for thirteen years. I had met the couple at a similar exhibition in an equally unobtrusive location near Lyndhurst, Hampshire some months before.

English summers are renowned for being unreliable in delivering consistency when it comes to perfect weather.  Saturday however was an exception and as I fastened my crash helmet and fired up my cruiser I decided that this would be one of those rare and perfect days. My home is only ten minutes from a main artery which feeds the east bound traffic onto the A31 and into the morning sun and towards Lee and an unknown group of artists.

After a short and very pleasant trip up the A31 to junction 3 I geared down and slowed sufficiently to negotiate the narrower secondary roads of the Hampshire countryside. The route to the exhibition hall was well signposted, a welcome asset as the small parish church hall is very well hidden.For those who are used to, and indeed prefer glitzy high street exhibitions, the sight which greeted me may have screamed “amateur exhibition” but while the exhibition was held in modest surroundings, the quality of the work was anything but amateur.

A friendly and sincere greeting at the door, where a cover charge of £1 was suggested, ushered me into a hive of creativity activity. The exhibition was very much focused on “working artists” which meant that each artist sat at an easel or table working at an unfinished canvas, board, paper or work with a display of their work behind them.

I walked from stand to stand within the exhibition chatting to each artist and enjoying watching them, each pouring their skill and passion into their work. The magic of visiting live working exhibitions is that you have the opportunity to view the artists alongside their work and techniques, a rare privilege. One is also able to talk to the artists about their work, their techniques and their dreams and to hear, first hand, their reasons for allowing creativity to control their lives.

I really want to showcase the artists which time allowed me to meet and chat to. Let me introduce those who I did meet and who were only too happy to chat about their art and their creative inspiration. First up was Alan Langford who I introduced with his associated link in the beginning of this post. Next was Jenny Morgan who had some lovely portraits to show. After a nice long chat I wandered over to David Pritchard a man of extreme detail and patience. His work is, well, amazing; judge for yourself.

One reason for visiting exhibitions where there are artists in res is so that one can connect with the art through a personal narrative given by the artist, Marina Stuart is no exception. Marina is a deeply spiritual lady who loves to talk about her faith and the way is affects her work and life.

Tony Clegg was so busy talking to other people who I only had a brief time to chat during his lunch break. As you would expect from a confident artist, he was willing to talk about some of the amazing washes he creates in his work, thanks for the tips Tony.

Next was Barbara Rousseau a pastel artist who is also only too happy to share tips and ideas about where to start when contemplating pastels as a medium. I was very inspired by her work and the strong way in which she used her colours, especially a particular work with a strong sky (I love sky’s).

As someone who has always avoided pastels, talking to Barbara Rousseau and Colin Courtice made me want to rush out and buy my first set of pastels. Colin offers classes and judging from his relaxed manner, I may just consider a class in the New Year.

On the “craft” side I met Janice Fry a designer and maker of pottery. Janice displayed a number of lovely pieces and after talking to her I was convinced that she was well placed to assist the creative students, who attend her courses, to discover the adventure which awaits all those who “touch the clay and potter’s wheel”.

If time had allowed I would have gladly spent more time with the other great artists at the exhibition but the English summer outside the hall was proving it’s self an unreliable travelling companion. I did not pack a rain suit and wanted to get back to Bournemouth before getting drenched. I left the exhibition inspired and encouraged  with the knowledge that “creativity demands expression” and I was en route back to my own studio and the canvas on my easel which awaited my attention.

I look forward to the next invitation and another opportunity to indulge my love of mixing with creativity at its best.

Chapter 52

What a way to start my birthday, cards, gifts and telephone calls; a Facebook page filled with good wishes and blessing. Rich indeed is the man who has many friends for friendship is truly the only substance which transcends time itself and outlasts the fabric of temporal gifts.

Today, Monday 23rd May 2011, my diary is empty and I will enjoy the privilege of the freedom to enjoy some serendipitous adventure hidden in the hours ahead. It is my practice every birthday to read the words of Almustafa, from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, as he speaks wisdom to the people of Orphalese.

 He is asked by an astronomer to speak about TIME and he answers:

“You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable. You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.

Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing. Yet the timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness, And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream. And that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.

Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless? And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not form love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds? And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless? But if in you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.”

Kahlil Gibran, 1883-1930 (The Prophet)

A Studio Community

It seems that the creative potential in each one of us is ignited when the combination of ideas and restless energy reaches critical mass and we spontaneously ignite into expression. At flash point we head for our studio’s, overflowing with the desire to commit it all to canvas before the image fades and the colours disperse in our minds eye.

 Today is such a day and a simple walk into a local shopping precinct to enjoy a casual cup of coffee while watching the colours and the movements in the public open spaces was all I needed to combust. It also helps that the temperature today is comfortable enough to leave the studio door open, inviting the garden light and the summer colours and energy to join me.

 I have been preparing for a number of pieces which I have wanted to paint for a while. Perhaps it is this amazing English light and the crisp clear colour I am experiencing which has sparked the tinder today.

Painting is a solitary experience for me; not that I would choose it any other way and nor do I find the solitude a lonely experience. It is in such a place that I begin to find companionship in inanimate objects. I have never discussed this with other artists but wonder how many other creative souls experience the same state of mind when engaging with their brushes, paints and canvas. Like many studios, mine is filled with all the materials, tools and substances you would expect in an artists intellectual pantry; it has its own unique character, smell and spirit.

My studio, while being is a very personal place is not a private one and enjoys company and hosting friends. The space is like me, turned inside out with my ideas, passions, memories and thought on view for all to see. The items and objects which make up the sum total of everything that occupy the space represents and showcases much of who and what I have become. There is my favourite set of brushes, standing in a Talisker Single Malt whiskey box, a memento from a memorable visit with an old friend. There are photo’s of friends, family and images which have always been special to me. Stuck in the corner of a frame are the long white teeth of two thorns from a Mimosa Tree, from where Thornwood Studio derives its name. I grew up with these trees on our farm in South Africa; their aromatic wood is one of the primary sources of heat for cooking the finest mutton chops in the Eastern Cape as well as heating our large old homesteads in the winter. Fixed to the studio’s low ceiling hangs a large shofar made from a Kudu horn; I sound this horn from time to time and love its deep resonating moan. Books, materials and music CD’s punctuate tops of shelves and ends of tables, each item having its own familiar place, like some local resident who is always to be found at their favourite table at a street café. 

 As I unlock the door each day it’s like walking into a room full of friends and acquaintances. I have bright happy friends like the old music centre which is a constant entertainer and source gossip; there’s the family of coloured antique bottles on the window ledge and the small glass crystals which dance their rainbow light around the walls when the sun shifts and animates the space. I have a few really  grumpy friends too, such as the bad-tempered electric pencil sharpener who, from time to time, will suddenly grab a delicate pencil and in a hot temper will trash the wood and the graphite. I keep the old boy simply because on better days, when his mood is not so sour, he sharpens like a real pro. I also have an old hairdresser’s swivel stool which has a stubborn temperament and refuses to ever adjust to the height I need. One of my hardest working studio comrades is my faithful dehumidifier, a trusty mate who keeps our studio home free of dampness during the long cold, wet winter months. He never ceases to produce the clearest distilled water which I bottle and store to use with my watercolours.    

The rag-tag bits and piece of furniture which house the whole studio community are a motley bunch of tramps and vagabonds. Characters who I have personally saved from the death rows of countless scrap yards or the terminal sentences handed down by people making room for new furniture. Each character in my studio remains loyal and grateful for the reprieve they have received from certain destruction, happy in their redemption and committed to pledge allegiance to the cause.

So as I close this post, it is, to this inanimate community that I must now head as they await instruction on how to aid or inspire me with my next creation or project. What I do know for sure, is that as soon as they hear the key turn in the studio door they will quickly assume their places and be ready for duty and to welcome me back with the greeting, “Long live our noble artist, God save the artist”   

 You can also read this posting on my Total Art Soul profile

Autumn Fires

I sat with the fire this evening until it died, I felt like I owed the blaze that much at least, especially as I had called it to perform. Each fire is special, just as people are; they have a character of their own and eachs burn very differently.

Tonight the fire in question is the one I made just before sundown. It was composed of all the summers’ flotsam and jetsam  from the garden and various successful and unsuccessful projects. Never the less all the materials were combustible and ready to await their turn in what I call my autumn fires. These fires are a convenient way of disposing of the year’s contribution to the combustible waste which has been consigned to the disposal pile. In keeping with my strictest green agenda I assembled all the various candidates in a final line-up and put the match to the kindling. One by one I offer the flames the sacrificial martyrs and sit back to enjoy this years autumn blaze.

In Africa it is said that within each fire, be it cooking or recreational, a story is born. There is something very magical about staring into the heart of the fire and the heat of the coals. Somehow the dancing flames help to interpret ones thoughts and if spoken out immediately, a new story unfolds. Tonight is no different and although my location is urban, my thoughts are rural. Fortunately there is a light wind tonight and the passing of the breeze through the branches of the trees on my property masks the sound of traffic, barking dogs and car alarms. Tonight I could be on an African farm listening to the call of the Night Jar and the merry chirp of  crickets as they announce the arrival of the night.

As I said, fires are special things and tonight, as I watch the flames lick the wood, twigs and logs, I am reminded of the history of each component on the pyre. There is the branch from the tree which my little girls swing hung from, the legs from the pine frame beds which my wife and I had purchased almost twenty-four years ago, beds which provided comfort and rest for family, friends and strangers, such an important part of the hospitality in our home. Theres rose cuttings from this seasons amazing growth and part of the boundary fence which blew down last winter in a storm.

The last volunteer to embrace the flames was the most recent branch from the Lilac tree. This is the old friend who, apart from presenting an obstacle during the mowing of the lawn,  provided wonderful shade during many previous summers for the various birthdays, anniversaries and seasonal parties we have hosted in the back yard of our home. This year however it succumbed to a terminal disease and I could not save it.. As I throw this branch on the hot fire I have a premonition, its of a fire still to come where its remaining comrades will form the majority of the fuel and most of the kindling.

Nope, there is no life support left for this fire, no more fuel and no reprieve, no more contributors to the final performance only the fading glimmer of coals drawing their last deep breaths from the cool night air.  I will wait for the last breath and the glow of life  to fade from its orange eyes before I pronounce the last rights; then I’ll head inside to where there is the buzz of family voices and the warmth of new reports from today’s adventures. I will quietly slip inside and join those who were not witness to the stories which were told by tonight’s autumn fire.

Lunch with R.D.(Bob) McKenzie

I first met Bob and his wife Fay way back in 1981 in South Africa when I was apprenticed to an electrical engineer. At the time the McKenzie’s owned the farm Gray Rocks near Queenstown in the Eastern Cape. Bob was at the time heavily involved in cattle breeding programs, dairy and various other farming operations. My company had been employed to ensure that the farms electrical installations complied with the regulations required for connection to the national grid. Now, nearly 28 years on, standing in Bob’s studio in “The Barn” it seemed like that history was a world away, in another dimension.

Bob has since retired from cattle breeding, moved to a small holding  and as I understand it, only has limited involvement  with the industry; all his time now being focused on his other great passion….painting. Fay is well renowned in the area as a caterer  par excellence and, as well as catering for various occasions also runs a carvery from their lovely home which is open for limited bookings and special occasions. My reason for the visit, quite apart from the lovely lunch which Deborah, Amy and I enjoyed was to catch-up with our friends Bob and Fay and to view Bob’s studio and his new works.

The studio has a number of spaces, some where Bob paints are smaller while others areas are larger where he hosts regular week-end painting workshops; I was not disappointed and found Bob’s studio was just as I had always remembered  and it.  There were few works on the easel and a stack of paintings standing, either commissions awaiting collection or others requiring framing, something which Bob also does himself.

  

Bob paints a range of subjects but essentially he loves landscapes and seascapes and if you add a few cows to the equation it is an irresistible combination for Bob’s eye. I understand that he has painted from being a young man and was inspired by many of the great artists but on a local lev, mostly by the late Les Elliott. It seems that Les inspired many people to paint including his own son Dale Elloitt who is also a well-known and respected South African Artist and friend of Bob’s. 

From the first time I saw Bob’s paintings at a local art exhibition I fell in love with the colours in his pallet and his ability to capture the essence of an Eastern Cape landscape. I am fortunate to own two of Bob’s paintings and a print or two which still entertain my imagination and I often use them to sharpen my memories of “home” now, seated at my dinning room table over 5 000 miles from the Eastern Cape.  Bob’s own words will give you a taste of how inspirational his environment is to him:

Over to you Bob ;” The fabric of the African Landscape must be one of, if not the most diverse and varied on the face of the earth. I am indeed fortunate to be situated more or less in the middle of it, here in the Eastern Cape, within easy reach of the most beautiful coastline in the world, lush tropical NAtal,the arid semi-Karoo and the incredibly varied Orange Free State. All this together with the exquisite tapestry of so many human cultures. The growing awareness of the Eastern Cape as a game farming area is drawing viewers and hunters from all corners of the  world. The area also boasts perhaps the highest concentration of pedigree livestock farms in the Republic of South Africa. All this put together makes it a veritable Eden for an artist. My deep love for all in nature makes painting this sort of environment not only a pleasure but also a privilege.”

What more can be said?. I came away from The Barn and The Studio, Bob, Fay, their animals and a tasty dinner table filled and inspired. Inspired by Bob’s love  for painting and also the deep fulfilling touch of friendship and a shared passion for creativity and expression.

You can see more of Bob’s work on-line.

    

“The Girl Next Door”

Don’t you just love those moments when the unexpected happens and what appears to be just another relatively ordinary day turns out to be something quite special. I am now talking about the serendipitous event which introduced me to an exciting new talent.  

 On my recent trip to South Africa, during a visit with my brother in the quiet little town in which I was raised, I was literally introduced to “the girl next door”. During a conversation at the dinner table my sister-in-law simply mentioned that the young lady who lived next door was learning to paint. As someone who is passionate about art and especially the potential of a new artists work, I was immediately interested in meeting her.

 The next morning I arranged to pop in and meet Kelley Marriott and asked if it was in order to see her work. Kelley is a lovely bright 14 years old with a warm and friendly manner. In a very relaxed and hospitable manner she invited me into their spacious home and into her room which serves as both bedroom and studio. I say “studio” simply because, as rudimentary and understated as it is, it is from here that she is painting some truly excellent paintings.

 Kelley, who attends Queenstown Girls High School, has been drawing and taking general art lessons for a number of years. I was however amazed to learn that she had only been painting in oils for about two months but had already found a style which was fast becoming unique and as individual as she is.

 Kelley had enrolled a month or two earlier to do a painting weekend with South African artist Bob McKenzie, who as it happens, lives and works from his home and studio on a small holding on the outskirts of the town. I have painted with Bob before and he is a great teacher but clearly Kelley was way ahead of the pack and all it seems to have taken from Bob was a few instructions.

 Kelley paints onto prepared and primed hardboards of generally the same size. After preliminary brushing and sketching directly onto the board she starts to build in the colour. Kelley admits that there is much too still learn before she will feel totally confident about her technique but from where I was looking it won’t take long. She was keenly awaiting the next two-day workshop with Bob McKenzie which was due to take place in a day or two.

 As we chatted about her work and some of the challenges she may face in establishing her self as a recognised artist, I was more than encouraged, by the light in her eyes, to believe that we have not seen or heard the last of Kelley and her evolution into an exciting young artist. Kelley is a far from being an amature and with the raw natural talent she possesses, I predict some exciting work from her “little studio”.

     

Out of Afrika – New Impressions.

There is no feeling quite as secure as knowing that you are accepted, recognised, at home and safe among friends.

As a little boy I spent most of my early childhood at boarding school in a hostel and away from my home.  Those were the days when it was deemed very necessary for a border to bond with their hostel and school in order to fulfil the systems obligation to deliver one’s education successfully. It also caused the most crippling moments of homesickness, insecurity and longing. I am not comparing my fifteen years in England away from Africa as an immigrant to the experience and memories of being in a hostel or implying that I am in some form of forced exile but simply that being away from “home”, forced or by volition has its moment’s of  homesickness, insecurity and longing.

On the rare occasions when there was a home weekend scheduled and our parents were permitted to whisk us home on a Friday for one full day and two sleeps, the world would become a brighter place. The best feeling would come early on the Saturday morning, at first light, when I would awake in my own bed and feel the comfort of the warm freshly washed, sun dried and ironed flannel sheets against my skin. With this sensation would come the realisation and affirmation that I was home where I was accepted, recognised and safe among friends.

My parents, the hostel and our family home and farm have long since  morphed into someone else’s story.  As I stepped off the Virgin Atlantic flight from London Heathrow, at Oliver Tambo airport in Johannesburg, heard the loud familiar banter of African tongues, felt the warmth of the Southern Hemisphere against my face and breathed in the thin Highveld air, I had that old familiar realisation and affirmation, I knew exactly where I was; I was home.

The first few days back in our home town Queenstown were consumed with wanting to rush to and fro touching, seeing, tasting, listening and greeting. Suddenly, even a mundane drudge to the local supermarket, turned into an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the familiar and to gain new impressions.

Of course the added joy to this trip was that I was sharing these moments with my wife and twelve year old daughter. My daughter was born in the UK and only ever visited Africa once when she was two years old. Her memories of that visit were very unclear so now to see her experiencing the country she had seen and heard so much about from her sisters and had seen on video and in photographs, was a great joy. It was becoming part of her safari of the spirit and her personal experience; African was now sowing its own special seeds in the fertile soil of her memory and imagination.  The impact of those moments will resonate with her forever and, just as the billboard outside East London airport say’s, “the first commandment of adventure is, Thou shalt return” .She will need to return sometime again in the future, for her own reasons and not mine.

When revisiting places which hold permanent residence in ones memory the fear is always that somehow, in ones absence from them, they will have changed their character. It seems that the longer one is away the more it is likely that fantasy and reality will combine to create an illusion of an original memory; dimensions change, colours change and the pictures fade a little.

The original question I asked myself, while standing in my silent studio the night before our departure from England was, “will the colours be the same and the memories as vivid?” I need not have been concerned, the colours were as bright and clear and the memories just as vivid as I had hoped for. I knew this as we feasted our eyes on the first stunning sunset, while our car weaved its way from the coastal airport and city of East London, up through the mountains of the Eastern Cape towards Queenstown.

It was however the first early morning, sitting in a duck blind waiting for the first flight of Teal, Yellow Bill, African Shell Duck and geese to land on the mirrored water of the wetland area that nudged my attention to the detail around me. It was while watching the day quietly creep over the ridge of the mountains to the east of Harrison Farms borders and observing how the warm morning light washed the distant mountains of the Winterberg Mountains. It was while soaking in this silent application of the colours of an African morning pallet that I learned a great secret. The Spirit of the Great Heart, which Africans believe shapes this continent, mixes a fresh pallet and applies new colours each morning without fail; there it was happening before my eyes, a picture taking shape, wash by wash in vivid colour.

My time “back home” delivered all I had hoped for in terms of refreshing my memory of colour and the new impressions I so need. We enjoyed the generous dynamic of “still times, safe places and special friends” which rekindled and refreshed our hearts, minds and spirits. From sitting under the clear sky’s surrounded by the sounds of the fire and the smell of thorn wood fires to being sniffed by wild elephants; I have returned to my studio with vivid memories, colours and stories to tell the canvas’s and boards which await their opportunity to host my new impressions. I have just enough inspiration to last me untill I must, once again honour the first commandment of adventure and return to the familiarity of home and “the spirit of the Great Heart” for another lesson under African sky’s.

In the language of the local Xhosa people, until then, “Nkosi Sikelel‘ iAfrika” God bless Africa