“she is saying something but what?” (Action)
the following questions were asked to 3rd year students during a short time with them. In the week we were looking at tracing. trying to explore the act, meaning,intention of/in/with tracing. asking if there is a difference in how we make use of this word, and the difference is there, how does it impact or change the way we approach the process and outcome of the drawing?
Trace: Questions posed to 3rd year students at Wits 2022
Trace: Questions posed to 3rd year students at Wits 2022
observational drawings
pastiche of objects from the harbour
attempts of rock bed drawings from sea point 2025
drawing of ocean scape 2025
different techniques of connecting
Sketch 1:Techniques and Perspectives
mapping strategies of reading, connecting with audiences from a different perspective.
Sketch 2: Rain and Frog Prompt
Sketch 3: Storyboarding
Feeling my way through a script.
Sketch 4:
Classroom Prep
Sliding Out Of Narrative (2018/2019)
Sliding out of narrative is an experimental research project that is attempting to engage vulnerability and concepts of visibility and invisibility in the public space. Being a literary project, it attempts to combine elements of non-fiction and fiction, while partially applying a theoretical framework to analyse the ways, in which a particular body performs and negotiates space, in an attempt to feel at home – or grounded- but particularly, it is looking at how the body, through multiple encounters finds itself sliding out of narrative. Performing visibilty and invisibilty.Writing is the main essence of this project and to accompany this text, there is a seires of threaded- paper based works and transparency sheets that form part of this main body of work. These are elements that I would like to refer to as extended essays to the preludes, which have been included in this book.This literary research work, is a project that intends to understand how vulnerability potentially organises the public and various encounters- whether individual or collective. This book attempts to emphasise a need for vulnerability in the present, as a way to resolve particular tensions that impact on ideas related to displacement, the self and the public space.Sliding Out Of Narrative (2018/2019) - MINI THESIS
Sliding out of narrative is an experimental research project that is attempting to engage vulnerability and concepts of visibility and invisibility in the public space. Being a literary project, it attempts to combine elements of non-fiction and fiction, while partially applying a theoretical framework to analyse the ways, in which a particular body performs and negotiates space, in an attempt to feel at home – or grounded- but particularly, it is looking at how the body, through multiple encounters finds itself sliding out of narrative. Performing visibilty and invisibilty.Writing is the main essence of this project and to accompany this text, there is a seires of threaded- paper based works and transparency sheets that form part of this main body of work. These are elements that I would like to refer to as extended essays to the preludes, which have been included in this book.This literary research work, is a project that intends to understand how vulnerability potentially organises the public and various encounters- whether individual or collective. This book attempts to emphasise a need for vulnerability in the present, as a way to resolve particular tensions that impact on ideas related to displacement, the self and the public space.interlude: wanderer
when an undefinable shift has taken place within; something is happening. when you know that there is no turning back; something is happening. when death stares at you; it is your eyes that will instantly hyper zoom and isolate what’s happening around; something is happening. when everything about the unknown scares you, an inner power leads; something is happening. it will be shapeshifting prayers that will follow you wherever you are because something is happening. I guess that is why I am drawn to literature that is about a people who are constantly moving; something is happening and it wants to move. when you have grasped a technique to flow, a strength to continue, a love to still want to exist despite it all, you will know that you are returning home.
I am rotating in this body trying to fit in to it/seeking an alternative Language for Recovering
Lessons from Making: Languages of Recovering
pausing,
to be given back distorted is to ...return.
stay as long as you want.
stay when the things you make remind you that you are home. stay when you are not ready to go. stay when the notations you make echo the things that you long for.
rotating:revolve. pirouette.swivel. alternate. to take turns.
the work.
to be seen by the work. to know that you are loved back by it. That is true love.
Molting: remove. peel off. discard. throw out. radiate.
Meditations on my creative practice (10 years professionally making.)
There is a lot of things that I do not want as part of the fabric of my being. An unspoken non-negotiable, The first buffer zone. I want to make freely in places without the external noise. second buffer zone. The broader conversations were, and still are internal, and not meant to be known.third buffer zone. I have only ever made to soothe what I couldn’t give myself in material form. I wanted to soothe what was uncomfortable in spaces that I adopt into my own. To speak even when I did not want to. To push myself out of corners when circumstances would want to put one there. To reconfigure and bring a gentle ease in my shared lived, personal and creative spaces. To bring security to me/you/us, even when it feels temporary. To bring stillness coming from fragmentation. To release shock. I share my vulnerability in moments where I cannot articulate, in real time, to a public that is always seeking an answer. Answers that I cannot give. Artists see but, we are seers of our own worlds, while others project - outwardly.
Every mark is a wish. My wishes.
Every mark is a wish for existence. A co-existence of sorts, no matter how imperfect, strange, beautiful, grotesque, or other.
untitled: you can not name what does not want to be known.
so when you decode my drawings, politely, don’t observe it only in its entirety. give yourself grace to observe each mark closely, intimately without feeling a pressure to know. interact with the work with your own vulnerability because it asks you to not be perfect but to just be. stand as close to it as if though you were in a conversation with someone you loved, for as long as you want.
Pause, and trust what it is that it is responding back to you with, in silence, is the truth.
away from the noise.
studio adlib: “I did my Best” a vision board 2018 - present
rawness. untreated. unprocessed. undefined.inflamed. sore. red. chafed. unhealed. exposed. tender. sensitive territory.
bleeds. haemorrhaging into loose threads.
seeking barriers. mutating. 2018. new skin. skin barrier. body regenerating.
Backpedalling. Back to Love. Bring it Back to Love
how did we get here? to be given back distorted. falling apart. undone?
adlib: sketch for a speaker/hearing what can’t be heard
Transfiguration I. convert. mutate.recast. transmute. change.alter.
Transplanting: shifting.carrying. modifying. rearranging. relocating.transferring.
percolate.merge with. eating my heart out.oozing
Transfiguration II. change.modify. reshape. renew. reconstruct.transmogrify.remodel
I’d be dishonouring what’s within if I stopped.
I’d be dishonouring what is within if I didn’t return renewed.
shifting between drawing and fiction: Frameworks for becoming and affirmations (excerpt)
excerpt from an unfinished text (non fiction)I walked past a modest home, where a young mother was interacting with her toddler son, Tshepang (Trusting) – sharing a beautiful moment on their stoep. The little boy was playing freely with innocence, and as I walked closer towards their view, I watched his mother responding back to him with the slight glimmer of light that was left in her. She was struggling with drug abuse because in the township everyone knows everyone’s burdens. I make reference to her because of my inherent belief that all of us are born with hope and goodness. I continue to think back to the mother and assume that something traumatic may have happened to her in order for her to become the way she is - alive but not fully present. Although 2 year old Tshepang and twin sister know who their mother is, I am burdened that his innocence is protecting him from seeing what is happening to her and rightfully so to the woman who is smiling back at him softly.
I was broken by the scene with the mother because the love that her baby boy reciprocated back to her was unconditional and non-judgemental. It came from something that was pure. The mother was frail, and her skin was impacted by the damage of drug abuse and malnutrition as a result of poverty...
***
Our bodies speak when they are in distress.our bodies know before our mind can grasp what it is that it is walking into. I was walking in the streets of Bern during a cold winter period (2017). It was the annual Festival that takes place before Lent called Fastnacht, a pagan carnival that stems from villages in the medieval period. it is an event where the locals would dress into costumes that were monstrous in character. I was told then that the intention of these characters is to chase away evil spirits.
I was approached by a holy man of Indian descent who was dressed in an orange robe. We were in a narrow allyway that was packed. Families were moving up and down fulfilling errands in preparation for the holiday season. The holy man, proceeds to stop me and asks if he could speak to me. I agree. My encounter with the man was surreal and unusual under the circumstances but I still sit with some of the insights he picked up from me. he said that I needed to pay attention to my body when it is in good health and to pay attention when it exudes its natural yellow pigment. He said when it is triggered or in distress – my undertone turns red – putting my body in dis-ease. He’d proceeded to communicate as well how the things that I desire are secrets between myself and God…
my mother always says she knows when I am happy. she says she picks it up in the yellow glow of my skin.
… Don’t forget who you are – are affirmations that have been difficult to uphold in physical time. I suppose my creative practice and the works that have been birthed from it in the last few years will continue to be a sounding board. “Find your way”- is a reminder to not lose yourself or oneself, while “shine your light” - implies a need to exude the light that is within; “Tracking 1 and 2” is a call to touch base within, by not forgetting the paths travelled. These are invitations to stay on the tracks. “Manuscript” a reminder that your story can be rewritten, and “If I ..”is a recurring prompt towards redemption.
This is why I continue to build a connection between drawing and writing (fiction). In the same way that I insist that drawing is a map or, that drawing is writing, it is because the physical act of drawing is guided by a personhood that can only be understood subjectively,(awakening to our own becoming). it is a physical act that visually directs, grounds and compasses how we negotiate co existence, as well as our imagination of it, using a language that is not just verbal but of a visual kind, a formless kind - like a clue that is open to be deciphered collectively in a manner that is not uniform. drawing becomes a manifestation of desires and dreams that point towards sincere and hopeful possibilities of finding a way.
drawing, in the context of my own practice, has revealed it’s shapeshifting purpose as a silent mirror. it is not so much about a skill of achieving likeness, controlling it, but rather, the skill that I am mostly interested in is what it prompts: if we listened to the medium during the stillness, what are the meaningful lessons that we can take from it to import into our own lived experiences? and does this mean that we could unlock the key for meaningful change in our immediate and shared circles?
Fiction is a technique for navigating the ongoing battle of good vs evil. In naming fiction as a buffer zone where goodness and anything light can suffice, is to be doing the valuable work of fighting for liberation. We no longer contain our ideas on a ground level meaning that the desire to see a world free from hurt and pain is not an impossible dream. It is attainable but what other ways are available for us to be able to articulate these things and are they safe?...
hold on to your dreams (love is stronger)
heading is adapted from “WEE GEE’s” Hold on to your dreams (1980)*
interlude: inner notes with an inner being
KEEP YOUR HEAD UP TO THE SUN!
KEEP YOUR HEAD UP TO THE SUN!
when i lost all hope you showed me love
when I lost all hope you showed me love (after Monica)
Twice seen, heard Once:signals and the (un)consciousness
experimental text on disorientation, uncertainty, anxiety, fear, doubt place making and trust
you will betray your own heart if you don’t listen to what it wants!
unnamed doodle 2025
are you paying attention to the details that are in your day?
are you paying attention to your spirit when it translates what it sees?
diverted thoughts:
de ja vu...
are you paying attention to the details that are in your day?
counting, seeing, de ja vu - all in a day
a re-do?, again and again? to undo all of it in a day.
I have seen something like this before and I don’t like what it’s making me to feel.
Endings:
death is imminent.
... death reminded me about compassion.
... death reminded me about kindness.
... death reminds us of endings.
... and death reminds us of a different beginning.
and just don’t forget to look after self, yeah?
unconsciousness:
Did you know..?
that..?
I like to wear my heart on my sleeve?
...and that (water, crowds, trucks and love) scare me...?
Did you know that I could have died a long time ago?
Yearning :
Did you know... that...I have a wish to float without feeling scared that I will drown?
careless whispers?:
2. are you paying attention when your spirit is translating to you what it sees?
I want to tell you...
I want to tell you...
I want to tell you...
I want to tell you ...
I want to tell you something but I think I may be imagining things.
diverted thoughts:distractions
“and by the way, eh” - how does one write down the call of a hardy dah. hadeda?
How does one write down the call
of a loerie bird?
how does one calm down their nerves, isolate their anxiety, calm their heart and hypnotise it to still believe in the good like it used to.
and, I am seeing things that are beginning to scare me too...they are not good.
diverted thoughts part two:
Did you know...?
birds have always fascinated me while growing up.
My parents bought me a bird book and it had all of the species from Africa.
I don’t know where it is but I remember holding it in my hands when I was in the back seat of my dad’s blue Toyota Tazz.
I still remember some of them that I see, but only vividly in all of their diversity and curiosity.
I still remember that some female birds have dull earth toned feathers.
when they walk in solitude they are incredibly regal.
I started to notice sterlings in the city.
some with blue and some with red details underneath their wings.
I saw a white dove outside of my grandfather’s house for the first time. its entire body was a blinding bright white. When I walked out, it did not fly away. it continued to stay in the middle of the quiet road, and by the time I’d walked away from it, it was still there when I looked back.
illuminated.
I saw an eagle for the first time pivoting in the skies in Livingstone...
flashback:
I remember seeing a white owl for the first time at the zoo, I was in preschool then. It was asleep on a branch that was on the left of its enclosure and when it was my turn to view it through the glass, it woke up slowly as if it sensed my presence. it turned its head sideways towards me and stared back as if it had been waiting for me...
close
diverted thoughts part three:finding purpose
* sighting a dead frog during a rainfall in Jo’burg suburbia.*
Another Ending:
Death
“Allow it to be!”
“Allow Everything to be”
the depths we go Through to hide our truest selves
The depths we go through to hide our truest selves 2025
Disambiguation III: Arrivals, Crash Landings, Departures and a Reawakening
an experimental text on navigating shock, trauma, creative exhaustion, hyper empathy and energy“WE” may have been swallowed whole by an inheritance that “we” don’t want.
So now that “we” have arrived here, what will “we” do with it?
absorbed into the darkness. absorbed into a world already described. absorbed by others and their politics. absorbed by desires and negotiating which ones belong to us and “I”. absorbed by illusions. absorbed by trying. “but we have been here before - why are you surprised?”. absorbed by the effort of fulfilling “their” movements as the personal neglects its own. a death of the multiple selves residing within. absorbed by forgetting. absorbed by power, seduced by clout. absorbed by the hunt. disorientated by the pace. I don’t mind falling behind.
exhausted from giving but will continue to do it because that is who you/we are. absorbed by conflicts that don’t belong to us. absorbed by anxiety. drowning in shock. absorbed because now “you’ve become just like them!” because projections never end. on second thoughts… “BREATHE”
so I recite softly:
“I am not the people who hurt you…”
and I recite again softly:
“I am also not them…”
absorbed by expectations because I no longer know what I want.
absorbed by ladders too high to climb. absorbed by titles. absorbed by the delusion. absorbed by lies. absorbed into daily violences In spaces where we may be misleading each other. do you remember what your voice sounds like untainted?
absorbed by seeing. absorbed by promises.absorbed into speech. speak the truth in the circles. absorbed by pretence.“BREATHE” absorbed by the past. How did we get here, again “BREATHE” absorbed because we want to be chosen. absorbed by knowing too much. absorbed into the games. Hypnotised. “we” are all sinking.“BREATHE
interactions/place are starting to feel claustrophobic. “we” need time apart.
absorbed by (people) pleasing. absorbed by talking. absorbed by desperation. “BREATHE” absorbed in the manipulation. absorbed by the trauma. “BREATHE” my body is morphing and spaces reveal what rests within because spaces trap energy. absorbed into alliances. absorbed by the “us vs them” conversations. absorbed by fitting in. absorbed by NOISE and absorbed into it. trust where you are being led. “BREATHE” absorbed by distractions. absorbed by the loyalty tests. absorbed by fatigue. absorbed by image. absorbed by control “lets switch over to video mode, I want to see your reactions”. absorbed by being there. we are just hurting each other now. absorbed by broken situationships. maybe we need to be clear. but even when we sit here, one of us still bleeds.“BREATHE” it is just too dark here. “BREATHE” absorbed by looks. absorbed in misunderstandings. absorbed by the idea of us. I am learning about love. "BREATHE” absorbed by doing. absorbed by everything that is external. too many narcissists. “BREATHE”too many bullies.“BREATHE” RESIST!“BREATHE”PUSH BACK HARDER!“BREATHE!”
looping never stops. bartering. exchange. trade. underscoring. “BREATHE” absorbed by this transactional language. tongue tied. I no longer want to speak this broken language. “places”/ “spaces”/ “faces” are dishonest and I think that I have arrived here before. absorbed by absorbing. the inner beings are starting to retract within for self preservation.
It knows that this is not who I/you/we are or who I/you/we want to be.
“we” seem to be absorbed whole by things that are untrue.
dissolved
“BREATHE”…
I no longer want to do the work of convincing anymore because my heart has run out of proof.
“BREATHE”…
create In stIllness .
create away from the/their N O I S E.
BREATHE
BREATHE
absorbed by consuming. “BREATHE OUT” “BREATHE OUT” absorbed by hatred.“BREATHE OUT” absorbed by fear.“BREATHE OUT” BREATHE OUT” “BREATHE OUT” “BREATHE OUT”absorbed by coldness. coldness.coldness. coldness. coldness. coldness. coldness. coldness. coldness. absorbed by time. absorbed by the fire“BREATHE OUT”“BREATHE OUT.
“FADE OUT”
check your blindspot, sounds like … is trying to make … y..o..u step funny!
“BREATHE OUT”
solitude
will
always
be safer.
*interlude*
I don’t want the praises. they make me cringe internally. I don’t want the praises. I don’t want the praises. they. make. me. cringe. cringe. they make me cringe.
I still
don’t
want
the
praises.
tainted.
so no, “I don’t want to time travel anymore I just want to be here!” - Erykah Badu.
“BREATHE”
now that I am here,
feet numb.legs aching. burning bones. joints locking.lips numb.body tense. improvisation is the body’s programming. still jumped even when it was tired. jump! jump! jump! jump!jump! jump! jump! jump!jump! jump! jump! jump! jump! … jump!jump!jump!jump!jump!…jump!… jump!..jum..m..p! I can’t breathe. jump! jump! jump!ju..m.ppp! but still its too high to reach.
ju….umph
I was taught no one ever gets left behind.street friends, perservere
is there a way to undo it all?
perhaps “normal” is better? a taste of something that feels a little bit more traditional? (like looking back?) no! push forward.
I think “we” have been here before. passionate, hopeful, willing, deliberate consistent, careful.
derailed.
unthorough, uncouth, offensive, vulgar, removed far out and far right.
“we” have also been here before, polite, nice, tolerating while turning inside out. turning upside down!
“I”:looking away, you become unrecognisable because trust is such a foreign concept within and so “I” look for it in a skewed concept of “them”. an obscured trust. “I” have become scared to even ask who am “I”?/who is “I” because “I” stopped writing with, alongside and for that important question:
who is it all for?
“BREATHE OUT”
so “I” step back. revoked the access within. recognised where “I” stand and chose contentment.
“I”:NEVER GIVE UP!
beautiful things can become contaminated too.
“I”:NEVER GIVE UP!
//
*smoke disappearing*
“learning how to disappear”
“BREATHE OUT”
roots dangle mid air. mishandled. ripped. detached from the ground, urgently wanting to be returned back into the darkness.
body covered in dust. suggest the best way to undo it all, after the body has avalanched through space and time to survive?
“crash landing!”
“I”: I met different versions of self. a softer “I”, a quiet “I”, a bolder “I” , and “I” that was more sure. an “I” that went with the flow. because that’s how “we” move. can I ask for that pace again?
and if I could get it back before danger lurked, ahead, I would not have asked “how did “we” get here?”
spiralling in different languages because I am not sure if this voice was audible enough.
and still, “we” have been here before and still you spiralled again. DAMN!
even when “I” have fallen. why does it feel like I have not landed? legs up, hands up. body, just floating in one place.
someone once asked “so where does all of this come from?”
-it is an unwanted inheritance I said.
whose language is it anyway? “their” indoctrination? “their” reality. “their” movements. “their” positioning. I don’t want “their” traumas. I don’t want “their” anger nor do I want “their” tears and confusions. fighting other peoples fights is exhausting. it is time for difference. a different language and tone.people are messy.spaces are messy. they leave all of their nightmares behind with you.
the last attempt. diversify. inclusivity. values.principles. humanity. what is my politic? integrate. hope. more hope. Stay Alive.
pause
deep inhale
show me hope. teach me peace. gift me with patience. I want to speak in all of its dialects.
…so I ask again, is there a way to undo it all, cause if not, politely,I ask please count me out.
I can’t run from myself, there is nowhere to hide
I can’t run from myself there is nowhere to hide (after Whitney Houston’s I have nothing)
Emotional Intelligence I
emotional intelligence: spiritual, psychological and “emotional hygiene” after Daniel Goleman 2024 markers in a note book