Shop in my Suitcase (Chapter 1 - The Kalahari)
I have just looked at the Facebook responses regarding the introductory post I made, and an Australian friend suggested that I could describe myself as a nomadic observer, and I liked it. So, here I am, the nomadic observer, at my computer again, trying to create a large “mental sculpture” of my suitcase experiences, by looking at the five distinct “destinations” in my oeuvre in the hope that clarity will appear.
I think, for a creative, the “green, green grass of home” is not all that green or simply green, because he or she is attuned to other elements which other people may not be paying attention to. The creative or sensitive person has so many channels of consciousness which could be on alert all the time.
One experiences texture, colour, emotions, music and interpersonal relationships slightly
differently, I think. Perhaps I am completely mistaken? As creatives we may divulge more of our inner worlds in our crafts, but perhaps all people experience this heightened state of consciousness? If I am presumptuous to think that creatives are more attuned to their surroundings, please forgive me. Then let me at least state that I experience it this way.
Growing up in the Kalahari with many cousins nearby was exciting; we played and had carefree farm fun. We went to boarding school as I have already mentioned. I did not want to go the local high school, because I wanted to take art as a matric subject. In 1980 my parents allowed me the privilege to attend the Diamantveld High School in Kimberley. This was one of the biggest gifts my parents and the Lord had allowed me to possess.
Art and the arts became the centre of my world. I sang in the choir, participated in the house dramas and it felt to me that I was at university. I really and thoroughly enjoyed my high school years, because I loved the arts. Looking back over the years since then, I know that I was obsessed with art or actually still is. How did that come about? I am not able to answer you satisfactorily, because I was not a prodigy. The colour, the possibilities, the healing aspects and the possibilities for connection which the arts offer still want to make me dance. In a later chapter I will talk more about my postgraduate studies in which I could further the passion for the arts as a collective.
Unfortunately, I could not go to university to study fine arts due to bursary issues. Creating art and learning about art were truly my passion and to this day I cannot explain why these fixations had chosen me, but they did and I am still smiling. I learned about the old South African masters and the prominent leaders of the European art movements and I was mesmerized. Every Friday when we could go to town, I visited the William Humphreys Art Museum in Kimberley on my way back to the hostel because I could not get enough of the art works on display there.
My teacher was the acclaimed realist painter and illustrator, Carine Marais. Her skill inspired me. However, realism did not become my preferred mode of expression; there were simply far too many styles and other exciting things to do and try in the art arena, I discovered over time. I wanted to learn about music too during high school, but I could not take music and art as a “combo” because the timetable did not allow it and we did not have a piano. However, after high school I entered the music realm as an amateur for my own happiness. I did an adult piano beginner’s course at teachers’ college and that satisfied some of my musical questions.
The reason why I am mentioning music, is because I will harp more on this string in other blogs. I am tempted to keep on writing and in doing so I may divulge too much personal struggles which may dim the mood slightly. Now that I have alluded to dimming the mood, I think I need to sneak in two concerns of mine quickly, which are: the lack of arts awareness in the Northern Cape (or perhaps I should say, the lack of arts awareness in our farming community) and then the lack of art galleries where local artists can exhibit.
How does one cope with isolation? Well, I tried to circumvent the lack of gallery representative spaces by printing my Kalahari art on “useful” items, but even this did not really work. I could not find outlets for my wares. I really wanted to make a contribution to the tourism sector in our area, but the owners of settlements who can showcase my bespoke Kalahari art (done by a local artist) did not care for it. Here and there things did sell at interesting shops, but they closed down and then I had to take my Kalahari items home in a box or put them in my suitcase (to stick to the title).
Now that I am reflecting as a 60-year-old artist the most prominent thought that refuses to leave my head space is: One needs a gallery of one’s own. Selling through outlets who do not care for the arts can be a big mistake and selling online has not delivered any promising results in my case. It is the prayer of my heart – not just for me but for other creatives too – that local South Africans and the Northern Cape business communities will start to regard the arts favourably and see these modalities as vital aspects pertaining to a thriving creative economy for all, especially the unemployed. (I know job creation is a very difficult topic, and I don't have any answers, just concerns.)
I do not have a chip on my shoulder, and I am not crying helplessly in my little corner, but the isolated or countryside citizens of our dear country need to be exposed to the arts more frequently so that they can experience the benefits we as creatives are convinced about. I must say that my writing feels political now. (If I am sounding political, I will smile and say: Vote for the Arts Party!) At school level the arts have been reduced to mere words in a textbook (I feel) and most learners will never experience their tangible values because the balance is completely on the side of the technology and the sciences and now with AI who can do almost anything for us, how will we spend our leisure time productively?
During 2025 I published my coffee table book Kalahari Kwashale en Sketse which showcases my Kalahari expressions over a 40-year period. I am not trying to sell this book here and I won’t supply a link where you can buy it, because I don’t have one; it is a self-published book, and I print a few when I have some money to do so. I am mentioning this deliberately, because I so desperately wanted to find an outlet for it, not because it is my book, but I wanted to make a contribution to our local shared heritage, but alas, it seems an impossible task. Let me explain why I say so.
I phoned far and wide, wrote emails and came to a cul-de-sac; this dream will not sprout wings became a recurring refrain. Numerous times I tried to reach the Department of Tourism, but they never answered any of their three numbers (if I remember correctly). I was told during a telephonic conversation with a friendly and honest shop assistant of the Transfrontier Park that the administration it involves, if I want to sell anything there, which I will have to comply with, will simply make it impossible for me as an individual to get any of my wares on their shelves.
I am old enough now to know that the world does not revolve around me, but as a seasoned visual arts teacher I wonder how we want to create jobs and inspire the next generation to reach their full potential and discover their giftings (which are lifelines), if we don’t want to allow local creatives to become part of the economic cycle. I do understand that my work may be too expressive and that it is definitely not everyone's cup of tea and that for a myriad of reasons people may not like it, but something has to change in the Northern Cape with regards to the arts.
I mention the Northern Cape, because I hail from there and I feel I may speak about my province. Leaders of certain provinces should not be surprised by the lack of creative expression in their areas; creatives take their suitcase and go elsewhere. On a more hopeful note: Just remember, there is art in your heart.
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