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It’s a late Sunday afternoon, I make my way through Battersea Park in autumn twilight, and a forgiving breeze spurs me on towards rays of gentle sunset. I arrive at Pump House Gallery with the common relief of finding something unfamiliar. Annie and two other visitors stand adjacent to the door. I am caught in…
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Series – Dithapelo Tsa Barapedi Cradling a candle and matches, Kekana steps through air thick with Thandiswa Mazwai chanting Thongo Lam. She kneels in a corner of the room, flicks the match aflame, and sets the flame over the candle. The flickering light, steady on the floor, illuminates more than what the eye can see.…
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It is a mighty feat to gather one’s roots, to pull yourself out of firm soil in pursuit of creating work far beyond our consciousness and time. Lesego Seoketsa’s residency journey is the time-lapse of a blooming garden. Oh, how lush, how beautiful. Seoketsa’s residency begins with her seeking to expand her series ‘Amacici’, a…
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Harrison Tipping is the living emission of radioactive focus, and I am caught in its radius. His energy permeates my phone’s screen ionising atoms along the way and transforming all matter into believers. It takes an immense amount of courage to pursue a career most have failed in, to know that you are one of the…
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It is not entirely incorrect to believe that you are the centre of the universe. The universe is constantly expanding in every direction at an equal rate…
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The African vernacular experience is a tapestry of language and its dialects, familial cultural norms and their tribal nuances, the pursuit of greatness anchored in the gravitas of communal duty. It is on this tapestry of intersectional culture, in a west London gallery that my social axis is tilted. The door is opened by a…
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Like most of my adventures, this one starts off sketchy. It follows a blank stare from the car rental agent, deflecting my empty pleas when I cannot produce my South African driver’s license. ‘I left it in the flat, can I show you a copy on my phone instead?’, I don’t realise how ridiculous I…
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A former would-be lover, after realising the concavity of the kind of love and life I wanted to inhabit said something that has stayed with me. There is a split second between receiving, processing and reacting to information. In that time, I realised he was right. I do live with my head in the clouds.…
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I am flailing, mid-air, mid-worlds. I have cut myself from the ground, from home. I am desperate for warm soil, familiarity, but the flailing takes to flying and I can’t explain how I am happy here. I am waiting for the African hair store to open when a breeze gathers around me – London feels…
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