Keeping it light.

'I'm not very taken with your blog at the moment.' My daughter Skye confessed as we shared a moment of introspection at the days end.

Skye was weary after a day in the hospital ward, attending to all the ills, that are a consequence of terrible politics in this country.

All the results of that inadequacy, the failure to address basic human needs, lie in those hospital beds.

The human cost of poverty: Babies dying of malnutrition, and neglect. People too diminished by hopelessness to fight their alcohol or drug addiction. Too detached to care about passing on aids and syphillis to their children. Burnt in shack fires. Sick from contaminated water. Breathing in the germs of over-crowding.

'This is not why I did medicine.' Skye said sadly.

I can understand why my blog feels so thin to her. Can see why she can't 'hear my voice' amidst the writing. 'Where are your stories? You have so much to say...' my daughter laments.

Perhaps the same sense of sadness, the odd juxtaposition of my own reality against the acheing pain of 'out there', means... that I must (for now, at least) keep it light.

xxx

elle

Hot designers.

Tearing across town on a Sunday afternoon to the Cape Town Convention Centre, for a stolen few hours in searing heat is not a great idea. Much better to laze by the pool, or better still 'nap' with Mr Nielson, better known as Sid, in our air-conditioned boudoir.

Nevertheless, as sufferers of FOMO in varying degrees, Malu, Balu and I, (yes those are their names!) braved the crowds, and hit the design hall with feigned enthusiasm.

In between all the usual suspects, were little gems of ingenuity. Copy, copy, copy is oftentimes the mantra that dominates South African design. It comes from being a season behind the rest of the world, making it temptingly easy to rework whatever emerged out of Europe or America.

I rather liked these elaborate 'miners' hats, part of the uniquely South African dress code for local soccer lovers. Crafted with enormous creativity, and individuality by very enthusiastic fans.

Visitors to the 2010 world cup are going to love them, although they may find themselves less enamoured with the vuvuzela's that are usually accompany the outfits.

Of course. while I stood around enduring the noisy crowds, Malu and Balu restored themselves with a little neck and shoulder massage.

Unlike lots of the fare on show, my Friends are all real originals!

xxx

elle

Moving Artistry.

Sometimes you just know its time to move on. And this takes courage. Letting go, of what no longer works for you. Taking a risk. Starting anew.

So Cath and Steve packed up the old house in Talana, and moved to fresh soil.

Waking up to a new day dawning.


Breathing in the quiet of a country morning, just outside your door.

Making all of us long to sleep in a garage!

Seeing all your teasures. As if for the first time.

Noordhoek is the new Claremont my darlings....

xxx

elle

What a difference a year makes!

Sue Pam-Grant along with her husband Dj, both moved us, and made us cry with laughter at their iconic play Curl up and Dye in the early 1990's, a time of change and challenge for South Africa.

Dj carved a pair of swans for Sue, on the romantic head-board of their marriage bed. It acts as symbol for the never-ending love that may bind a man and woman across time.

With her latest installation, Practise 365/To be exchanged, Sue explores another notion of time with a daily ritual of art making, using mixed media on a paper bag as stage and canvas of a sort. Sue explains that her mark making, in an assemblage of memory and the imagined, 'traces our narrative back as it navigates and challenges our physical time line, and unconscious lineage.'

Ever the stage director, Sue's installation included an invitation to the public to navigate the space, eventually removing 'their' mark from the body of work. In this exchange the journey from the personal to the collective, is itself marked and respected.

365 days...I am inspired by that careful deliberation. Mr Nielson better known as Sid, says that I show that sort of commitment, only to the sweet jar on my kitchen counter. We may run out of bread and milk, I might throw in the towel on a degree or artwork, but by jove that sweet jar is not to be defeated!

Is there something you need to give a whole year to?

A daily honouring.

No excuses. Regardless.

Let Sue's glorious practise inspire you:Starting:

Today!

xxx

elle

Hats for your Hearts Content.

With all this talk of bad hair days, my friend Lesley of Hearts Content, suggested a little milinary inspiration.

And of course, it doesn't take much more then a little lace, a flower and some feathers,

To get my daughters, Skye and Erin into a party mood!

We are all swooning over these exquisite creations, by the gloriously talented Helen James.

You may never need to worry about a bad hair day again...

All that mystery, drama, and romance...

Captured by Helen for a head, closest to you!

Find Helen's exquisite creations at Florica on etsy.

Bedding for those bad hair days!

I've never managed to become one of those women who have regular appointments at the hair salon.

Come to think of it, I've never been one of those women who have regular appointments of anything!

Once or twice a year, I drag myself off for a bit of a cut and blow.

Consequently.

I do have quite a few bad hair days.

I was just wondering if I could get a set of these complete with Angelina Jolie's lustrous tresses!

Would come in handy on those bad hair nights!

xxx

elle

Bedding available on Threehearts on etsy

Post on 4 posts

It all began with an old brass, four poster bed!

Mr Nielson better known as Sid, and I found it in a small shop in Hillbrow, (this when Hillbrow still had shops, and not just drug dens, shebeens and brothels!).

We gazed at it with longing, since it was far beyond the means of our student budget but eventually convinced the shop owner to let us lay-bye it over a few months!

Then it was ours.

Far too big for our little bedroom, but so grand and romantic, that it made even our humble Hillbrow flat feel elegant.

In time, of course, that flat turned into a cottage, and then a house, and then a bigger house... like a series of Russian dolls that fit into one another.

And, eventually, we gave the old brass, four poster bed away, choosing instead a capacious king size refuge, that would accomodate our growing brood.

But, o the glorious memories of that four poster bed.

xxx

elle

Sylvia.

When I was about thirteen I discovered Sylvia.

In her writing I found a perfect refuge.

A place where the dark beauty of torn words, seemed to echo the yearnings of my teen-age heart.

I read her with a fierce hunger, craving the shadow and edge of her poetry.

I liked to shock passing adults by quoting her liberally, and took to reading A Alverez's, 'The savage god', in the childish belief that it would augment my reputation as an emerging, (ahem) intellectual!

At fifteen I discovered Anais, and in her diaries found a wild, wanton openness that was entirely foreign to the world view of my home.

When Anais declared, that some read to confirm their misery and others to deny it, I resolved to extend my reading, beyond the troubled works of the like of Sylvia, Virginia and Ann!

Still, the dark words call.

And, still, they are so beautiful...

Child

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with colour and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose names you meditate...
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images should be
grand and classical

Not this troublous
wringing of hands,this dark
ceiling without a star.

Sylvia Plath

Sage to strangers!

I once met an intuitive.

She called to me through an open doorway.

'But you have a calling dear', this said earnestly.

At last!

I was dazed for days listing all the probabilities!

Sage to strangers is one of them, I kid you not.

Sit next to me on the plane, at a dinner party, in a crowded subway, and baby I will change your life!

This is probably why I love these little renditions of an 'almost moment', found on the glorious missed connections blog.

Nothing like the wise words of a passing stranger; to inspire you, guide you, offer up a new direction.

See you in the cloakroom at the Baxter theater, I'm just waiting to change your life!

xxx

elle