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I’m in Cape Town, walking down Main Road, Rondebosch. Its 9am. I’m looking for some place to get something to eat and I have a back spasm.
The early morning drive from Hermanus to the airport didn’t really help, and neither did getting stuck in the traffic into the city. I catch a glimpse of some wasted old geezer in a window as I walk. Oh shit, that’s me shuffling along there.
After a while I shuffle into a place that offers a breakfast begel. I get a packet of Panado from the Checkers and settle down uncomfortably. The Panado helps and I continue on my mission, which is to get to the Italian Art Shop. I aim to get some Gum Arabic, for I have embarked on the strange mission of making my own watercolours. Despite that, I buy some marked – down Maimeri watercolours. They’re very good and are no longer being brought in. I also invest in a lovely Rosemary quill brush. Then, full of visions of swashbuckling watercolours issuing forth from the new brush, I head back to Hermanus to see my chiropractor.
That evening, sitting on the beach near the estuary, I give the new brush a bit of a turn. Still in pain and sitting weirdly. the little colour sketch is distinctly un – straight, the whole thing subsiding to the right. Ja nee, skeef back, skeef everything else.
The recent weeks haven’t been exactly prolific. A long niggling flu virus has afflicted our household and badly affected everything. I’m trying to organise and finish work for an end-of-year show. I think I’ve spotted a gap for all these watercolours that I’ve done over the past year or three. They need to be seen, and with a bit of wandering around the back roads of the Overberg, I can put together something meaningful. And these back roads need to be explored. Within a 50 kilometer radius of where we live, there are all sorts of undiscovered gems.
So I get over the back spasm. I get over the niggling flu. I get on the road a bit and do some drawing. Then off to the airport again to fetch Cathy. Turns out she picked something up on the plane. Then I get it too. Another viral malady, all over again, like Groundhog Day or something out of Kafka. We just can’t get going. things are just adamantly SKEEF. There’s not much time left before the end of year crowds invade our town, bringing money to buy art. Am I going to make it or will the viral onslaught prove to be my undoing?
Watch this space….
Yes, my friends. The show at Stellenbosch opened two weeks ago. We had a good turnout and some sales. Sean o’ Toole gave us a charming opening. He read from his short story about an artist searching for Pierneef sites. The ghost of Pierneef appears to scoff at the idea, to scoff at his own paintings even. I enjoyed that. Several times, alone, quasi lost and staying in dubious lodgings, I too have felt the sniggering of Oom Henk over my shoulder.
the marathon, day 2
Hanging this show was gruelling, with a lot of archaic twiddling of fishing line and a good deal of hammering. It took Monique and I, ably assisted by one Anton Chapman, a full four days to get it looking right. After the flutter of the opening I went through to Stellies several more times and then tuned out. With my frozen shoulder hurting like hell, and clutching a copy of James Whyle’s The Book of War, we headed to the nether reaches of the Overberg.
On the pont at Malgas
Two days under the big sky at De Hoop was good medicine, but I still needed to get further away. We went across the pont at Malgas and on dirt through stony farmland to Witsand. There were jackal buzzards and blue cranes. The farmhouses were neat and well kept. Aside from a crazed Telkom van narrowly missing us at high speed, there was no one about. We could have been in the 1970s. We went on past Vermaaklikheid to the remote outpost of Puntjie, which has cottages dating from the 1890s. The fynbos was broken by tall aloes as we ascended the last hill and got to a firmly locked farm gate. Clever bastards, keeping Nirvana to themselves. Cathy and I took a picnic lunch of bread, cheese and cold wors and then turned back home…
the mythical kingdom of Puntjie
Mr Miles
Deep in the hinterland of the Overberg there is a hamlet called Baardskeerdersbos. Every Autumn and Spring, the resident artists open their doors for the B’bos Art Route. The visitor will see a mixed bag of creativity, from woodworking to pottery and quilting. The kingpins, however, are Joshua Miles and Niël Jonker, and I always look forward to seeing what they’ve been up to. Joshua Miles is now recognised as one of our best exponents of the woodcut. His colour prints of landscape and pastoral life are alluring little gems. Recently he has moved to a more monochrome spectrum. The work seems to suggest a dialogue between a very old printmaking technique and its modern cousin, the digital image, where the old medium is simply far more intriguing than the new. (Pierneef, a brilliant printmaker, would have been interested.)
the tonal woodcut
B’bos has been in existence for many years, for no obvious reason as far as I can tell. In the late 1600s a party of sleeping explorers had their beards trimmed by scary looking spiders – hence the name. Since the artists moved in and yuppie art buyers followed, property prices have risen. There’s a division of sorts between the new and old inhabitants, who can still be seen around town on their donkey carts. They looked friendly, but I moved quickly on because as a teenager I saw Deliverance and I know how nasty those hillbillies can be .
the moment captured
Niël Jonker has been painting the Overberg region for a few years now. He paints outside, on the spot. This takes some courage. Once you’ve found your site and set up your kit, you find your subject changing with the light. You have to work fast, there are flies buzzing around you, it’s hot, and the wind keeps blowing sand into your palette. Strange then, that this difficult and noble business has come to be seen as the domain of the amateur. (What serious young art student would be caught en plein air with brush in hand? Uncool!) Mr Jonker, who makes a mean loaf of ciabatta bread, has recently turned his hand to sculpting. The bronzes in his garden suggest a significant talent there too.
Mr Jonker
In an artworld full of hype and commercialism, the B’bos Art Route offers a glimpse into a rare authenticity. These artists are committed to place and practice – and their homes and families are evidence that they are thriving. Vorentoe, B’bos kêrels!
Travels with Pierneef 