[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].
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?
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…
Mohlokomedi wa Tora
»Lebohang Kganye, SASOL New Signatures 2017 overall winner’s exhibition is up at the Pretoria Art Museum. Her 2017 winning work was groundbreaking in terms of the animation approach she used to make the video installation in telling her family’s journey to Johannesburg. The pop-up book animation effect was pervasive in twofold. While on the one hand it nuanced story telling by way of mimicking leafing through a book during reading it also recalled a stage play mode of representation. Now the results of her winnings which has to be translated into a solo project exhibitions are ready to be perused by all and sundry.
>>> Of all the expressions that I have encountered to date on the social media networks the expression ‘Mmmmmm’ is an odd encounter. In my limited experience ‘Mmmmmm’ together with its variant expressions which are en-vogue is very illusive in its intent whether read in context or out of context. You could blame me for being insensible, however I for one have always considered this expression closer to the palate than the ear drum. Unless if somehow my wires have become undone ever since hitting the big four zero•
»» The warning signals of the neglect of our boys has never been whistle clear as it is today. It is easy to blame someone but all this cold violence against women that we are witnessing begs a simple question. How do we raise our boys in comparison to girls? Have we evolved what it means to be a man in our contemporary society the same way we have evolved the idea of a woman as an identity and are continuing to do so in our effort to socially redress the role of women and parity thereof? No. Boys are neglected and are expected to grow into men who will love and protect our sisters, daughters and mothers as well as brother and fathers ««
»During a mellow debate which took global center stage on the minds of fans of double O’ seven which toyed with the question as to who should portray Mr. James Bond when Daniel Craig steps away from the role of the British spy a lot of commentators both abroad and home exclaimed that it was about time the franchise transformed. A univocal sentiment was bellowed: it was about time someone in the caliber of Will Smith or Idris Alba took the role in a bid to show that the franchise had entered the 21st century; that it, the franchise, was mindful of our global community (with Smith in mind this will be rather on the extreme, but why not? After all writers are versatile in spinning myths in any direction they so desire). I don’t know what flared up this explosive thinking that gripped at the British psyche as far as its gift to the world is concerned but unlike you I suspect that it was the casting of Naomi Harris as Miss Moneypenny that caused paradigmatic anomaly within the grand narrative of the famous British Spy syntactic construction thus making the latter thinking possible. May I hazard to say it is only a matter of time that the unfathomable happen. Perhaps in our lifetime. It as if someone let the door ajar to invite fantastic ideas inside.