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Support local: Proudly South African artists & illustrators
As you might have gathered from some of my previous posts, I’m a huge fan of supporting local brands and makers. Also, whenever I need to buy an item of clothing, homeware or even consumables, I always try to check that it has been made in South Africa and preferably somehow supports small business. Of course, this isn’t ALWAYS possible, but I try… Anyway, since the coronavirus pandemic hit our shores, leading to the announcement of stringent lockdown measures and an almost total shutdown of the economy, many South African small businesses have been struggling to stay afloat. Now, more than ever, it’s crucial to support and buy local. In…
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Learning to appreciate the process
Here’s a little confession I bet many of you might find surprising: I’m a perfectionist. I know it doesn’t seem that way. By all accounts, I’m pretty laid-back and quick to let things go when they don’t work out according to plan. But I have a sneaky suspicion that these are the methods I’ve developed over time to protect myself from disappointment and constantly feeling like a failure. That’s a post for another day, however. The point is: I think there are two kinds of perfectionists in this world.
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Thought: Deliberate imperfections
In a Navajo rug there is always one clear imperfection woven into the pattern. And interestingly enough, this is precisely where the Spirit moves in and out of the rug! – Richard Rohr Known as the “spirit string,” this imperfection is an integral part of the traditional Navajo rug weaver’s art. You see, they believe that during the rug making process – a particularly time-consuming and creatively rigorous one – part of their spirit or soul gets woven in. So, in order to find its way out again, they purposely leave a small piece of yarn sticking out slightly from the surface of the rug. In this way, the soul/spirit…
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Blowing in the wind
There is something arrestingly beautiful about the oh-so-domestic scene of clothes hung out to dry. Whether fluttering ever so slightly in the breeze or whipping about madly in the wind, the colourful dance always draws my eye, forcing me to stop for just a moment to appreciate the magical marriage of the mundane and the magnificent. In fact, I often step back and appreciate the unassuming work of my hands after draping a freshly washed batch of laundry over the clothes horse or pegging it to the line. A silly, self-indulgent little act I’ve always considered to be something of a private pleasure, shared by few… or none. However, a…
