[D]ear reader ever since 21 days lockdown announcement I have been extra conscious of my feeble existence. Don’t get me wrong I know that it’s a fact that there will be a full moon one day without me in this world to expecienc it [you are more than welcome to rewrite that sentence in a manner appropriate to your current state of mind].
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The act or instance of grasping and holding firmly.
[T]here is a paucity that grips the world in a dazed haze today. It’s like going through an experience you are not equipped to tackle with no choice but to do whatever it takes to go through the experience. It’s a buzz around in circles, but you have to cross the bridge even though you are not sure whether you will make it to the other side or not. But if you do make it to the other side is there anything there?
i looked at her face
And i was confronted by engraved tributaries
Spidying in trickles trinkets in a thousand cracks impressions
By the wink and dosing suns
That peer, skip and dunked away during her lifetime
Silvered not by artificial means, nay-nay
But a grey of knowledge
At certain points in our life we meet people who influences how we see things. At the very best such moments are not really prolonged. It could be a conversation lasting for a few minutes or under fortunate circumstances it can turn out to be a philosophical exchange that lasts for years. However such finer moments in our lives are not really marked by their prolongations. They are marked by the exchange itself. They are marked by what one take away from them. From there on wards it really doesn’t matter how often one can be exposed to the one who have insight into things that we wrestle with. They have cleared the cobwebs. We return to them to iron whatever creases that may remain. This might be an extended privilege on our part because we already know what needs to be done.»»
» Sometime in 2005 the exhibition Take Me To The River (TMTTR) took place at the Pretoria Art Museum¹. That exhibition featured a group of international artists amongst them South African artists, Nicholas Hlobo, Sharlene Khan and Churchill Madikida (now Songezile Madikida). At that time the Genesis II exhibition was at its infancy. I recall how at the opening of that exhibition on the evening of Wednesday 25 May Together with some of the Education Assistants (Museum Volunteers) of that time, Thami Msimango, Nthabiseng Rachel Montshiwa and Mxolisi Xaba, we looked at what the TMTTR as a project had achieved; which was the group exhibition as well as the incorporation of art made by learners from Gatang Secondary School. This left us with a satisfied feeling that the learners eventually when they arrived that evening to for the opening would see where art can take them and where it eventually belonged when an artists is established; when their work became heritage.
SAKHILE MOLESHE: The Final Call
Released: December 21, 2018
label: Imilozi Music
Number of tracks: 15
Here is an album that challenges monotonous conventions while proving that an album does not have to be one thing; it can be many things held together by artistic innovation and creativity.
In this essay my aim is to discuss the Biography of the Jack Purcell sneakers. It will emerge that there is no way that the story can be told without considering the space within which the shoe has been bought and the processes that leads to its acquisition.
»When I first received the invitation to this exhibition I thought I would perhaps see an array of paraphernalia of what amuses artists when they are at home chilled and not occupied with the uncertain nature of the visual art object. After all can one really work all day long without rest? As an artist, unless you are employed in a dimly lit sweatshop, there must be something else that occupies you during your art practice on any given day. I walked away from my viewing of the exhibition fortified in the idea that artists wrestle all day long with making art; even when they are suppose to be taking a breather«
‘a small lateral or terminal protuberance on the stem of a plant that may develop into a flower, leaf, or shoot’
I am still cranky from being away from the wordmachianikon for most of this year but the writerly bug juice beckons; the writing about nothing or everything or something gropes around. There is just a myriad of experiences that flood my psyche. To log into one is to gingerly watch every step of where I am going because everything is so muggle lest I get lost in the byways. So perhaps I should use a delicate scalpel to slice off this little tale…
‘the state of being away from a place or person’
At this time of the year people make resolutions to do better in the New Year. For a guy who does not make resolutions I think it is great if the resolutions that they have made the previous year have been realized even if it is partial. Whichever way you look at it this is the time of reflection. A time of taking stock of things. I am not a guy who shoulder New Year’s resolutions very well simply because I just think resolutions can be a strict way of living one’s life. Since in the past when I made resolutions I tended to drop them quarter-way in the New Year after a stern concentration of seeing them through for a spell. Look, I acknowledge that there are moments when one just makes a decision to do something with their life and the pursuit it naturally. For some people it comes without effort. Like those artists who work day and night, throw consignment all over Gauteng in hope, topped with some spunk, to withstand the torrents until someone gives a big break.