The Woodshed

As a child we would all make-believe we were prince’s and princesses. Cops and robbers. Cowboys and Indians. In the late 60s and 70s we chose to be astronauts. We grew up surrounded by movies, comics and stories brimming with science-fiction themes. In those early days of space travel and the Apollo program, toy-shops were full of robots and rockets. Science was the stuff that dreams are made of. Whenever we got a toy we would play with it all day long. If it broke, we would keep it in our collection and use it in our imaginative play as battle-damaged. We would inspect it closely and we tried to figure out how it worked. All too often taking a robot apart and attempting to put it back together. There were always pieces left over. But that didn’t matter. Twenty five years on, as an adult, I can still recall the excitement, smell, texture and magic of discovering a new item. But that recollection is something much stronger than mere nostalgia for the toys that had once fired my childish

After writing my version of the Jo'burg chronicle's - a chapter lasting almost six years - I have returned to the Mother City. [ ... meaningful pause] I think the only way to truly appreciate where you are is to have some frame of reference - many many years ago my art lecturer (George - a short and bearded man that always seemed to wear a pair of blue garage overalls) at Rhodes University sat us down and shared this with us: To taste life one needs to develop tastes that are on both sides of the spectrum. Truly decadent and downright awful. The decadence would not be understood if decadence was all you ever had. Granted - I'm still in the honeymoon phase of breathing in this city, and by NO MEANS do I want to create the impression that good 'ole energetic Jozi is 'downright awful' on the contrary BladeRunner City was fantastic - but man the air certainly seems sweeter when you're driving 10m from the Ocean. It's as simple as that for me. Stay tuned for