direct insperation for project

 

 

 

Not sure who made this...

 Artwork of recycled media by Nick Cave

The Butcher Boys by Jane Alexander

 

This is probably my favourite art piece. I took these photos when the piece was exibited at the Iziko art gallery in Cape Town. The artwork represents the oppressors of the Apartheid years - the animal parts symbolising how they stripped themselves of their humanity. 

Insperation***

 

Shoes by Moschino

Project: Where do I come from

The process...

1. I structured the jersey with wire by feeding it from top to bottom

 2. I attatched a stand to the ends of the wire

 

 

 

 3. I hardened the jerey with a homemade fabric hardener mix - white glue, water and cornstrarch

 4. I cut out a few butterflies :)

 5. Attached it to another wire structure

 

 

My final handywork :)

The story behind my project piece

Sadly the first memory that comes to mind of my deceased grandfather: him watching the 7 o’clock Afrikaans news on SABC2 and swearing at every person of colour appearing on the screen. I could never understand the relation between Christian values and racism of the Apartheids years. My piece: A jersey of my grandfather hardened with white butterflies swarming out. The hardness could be symbolic for the way of thought and his way of expressing it. The jersey could be symbolic for a cocoon where specifically white butterflies emerges – a depiction of me not wanting to be formed by the Afrikaner/Apartheid way of disgrace – the butterflies being a symbol of new life and the whiteness of peace.

 

Our family get-togethers show me the importance of family. My gran still spoils us with potbread and homemade spreads which I love.

My mother and her date's transport on for their matricdance was an "ossewa" which was traditional transport and a culture icon of the Afrikaners.

Afrikaner Heritage

I think  that my father’s emotional bond with his job as policeman changed him as person – made me unconsciously cautious to change and to a profession that could drain  or affect me emotionally and mentally. This even though I admire both my father and mother’s work they did for people and the community. My mother was a nurse before she switched to admin, working with medical aid, to have better hours to spend time with us and raise us.

A few of my extended family worked for the government and some still do. Two of my uncles are still in the police force and one uncle followed in my grandfather’s footsteps by working for Transnet.

My grandfather was a short man but was looked up to by all children. He and my grandfather raised my mother and her brothers and sisters in a household with strict rules and morals based on Christianity. But they were also raised in the Apartheids-years which sadly rubbed off on especially his sons. Unfortunately the first image of my grandfather that comes to my mind when I think of back to the school holidays that we spent at their home in Graafwater, were of him watching the 7 o’clock Afrikaans news and swearing at any person of colour appearing on the screen. I could never understand the relation between Christian values and racism. But also just thinking about it – it being a recurrent topic in my thoughts and everyday life experiences – I found it being one of the most sick mind sets one could possibly have. I believe white people were brainwashed to think they was better than people of colour. And I in fact feel a sense of pity for those infected by this way of thought.

Even though I loved my grandfather I hated that side of him. I never want to be like him. This probably sounds harsh and my mother would probably be pretty upset with me when she found out that I shared this with everyone (just because she loved him so much and want to remember him in dignity) but I have to be true to myself. This is a part of where I came from but is not where I want to go…

I would rather treasure the positive aspects in my culture and share them with my children one day.

My mother and her brothers and sisters did “volksdanse”. This was a Afrikaner tradition where the young people participating was called ‘niggies’ and ‘nefies’. Traditional dances were danced to songs like Siembamba and Japie my Skapie. This tradition took place where friends and families came together, like at picnics and other festivities. “Volkspele” was a movement that was established to spread the custom of the Afrikaners. Traditional outfits were worn by the youngsters which derived from the Voortrekker costume – “niggies” wore dresses with fitted waist, full skirts and volumous sleeves and was pared with headpieces called, “kappies”, drawstring small handbags and handkerchief neckpieces; the “nefies” wore waistcoats decoratively embroided with South African flowers.

I can vaguely remember being teached a few of these traditional dances in primary school. Her’s a few pictures of my mother in her teens enjoying the tradition:

  

 

 

I also inherited an artistic talent from my father as well as my mother. They are both very artistic but not either of them took it further which my dad admitted he regrets.

by my mother ...

my father... 

myself...

Playing dress-up!

 Like mother...

Like daughters...

My dad is sceptical of everything and everyone. I think this is partly because of his years in the police force – all the evil he witnessed. Which is understandable but we didn’t enjoy the harsh restrictions he made for me and my sis during our teens. I believe this just nursed our teenage slyness and adventurous sides that we probably inherited from him too which we noticed in the photographs and stories my mom shared with us about how he was when she met him.

  where my adventurous spirit comes from - dad*

Exploring nature**

dad

With my father as the head of the house, my sister and I looked up to him but I feel like my relationship with my mother is much stronger than with him. This probably came from when we were when my father were still in the police force and worked shifts, resulting in my sister and I spending more time with my mother and sadly not a lot of time with him.

When he was home we made a point of spending time together as family. One of the activities we did as family that I enjoyed the most was the trails we explored with our walks on Table Mountain. This is where my love for nature started. And today I feel lucky to date someone that shares my love for nature and actually works in the mountaineering industry. My father took a little while to warm up to him but enjoys his company now.

My first climb, made possible by my awesome boyfriend***

 I love these photos of my sister and I :).

She's three years older. Since I can remember I was jelous of her beautiful skin that tans golden without her even trying compared to mine - 5 min. in the sun, pink - not really my color...

I have very fond memories of my childhood days spent with her lively spirit <3 .="." class="separator" p="p" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">

These stracksuit are by the way my mother andgrandmother's handywork

I thought that it was pretty cute that somewhere in our lifetimes we had photographs taken of us in more or less the same poses. In both photos the older brother/sister is positioned left from the viewer’s point of view.

My sister and I                                       

My dad and his brother                                        



My Myburgh's heritage

Unfortunately I didn’t know anyone of my father’s side of the family.. He had only one brother who died in a tragic accident. He does not really speak about this and his parents to us. His parents also died before my sister and I could meet them. It feels like there is a gap in my heritage, not being able to know anything about the family my surname came from.

This is the only photograph I have of my father’s parents. The first thing I noticed was that his mother was absolutely beautiful and that she knew something about style. I can see a few facial features of my dad in his dad’s. I’m the only one in our household with height and I feel like it could be one of the most obvious features I probably inherited from my dad’s father.

More family dynamics...

My grandparents brought my mother up with a belief system of strong moral values that was most probably formed by their Christian religion. Before my parents got married, they dated and moved in together – a step that my grandparents did not approve of. My parents loved each other but were forced by my mother’s parents to get married because they lived together. They were happy to get married but would have probably waited another while before taking the ‘big step’.  They experienced many ups and downs of which the rest of my family could confirm.

They are happy today but I will never understand how living together, keeping in mind how immoral it was according to my grandparents, could make one force one’s child to get married. How can one decide the fate of one’s child so blindly .What if their marriage didn’t work out? Who would be to blame for the pain caused? I’m very happy for my parents, against all odds including the high percentage of failed marriages, they are still going strong.

Their marriage teaches me that when the going gets tough, you don’t just give up on the one’s you love and made a promise to, even if it was many years ago.

One of the first sewing machines my granmother used. Today its one of the first things you see as you enter our home

This sundress was a gift from my gran to my mother for Christmas. My grandparents did not have money to buy gifts; instead my garn made every child an outfit to wear to the beach for the December holidays.



 

This is a dress both my sister and I wore when we were little. This was only one of the garments my gran made for her grandchildren. Her love for children and sewing can be seen in the detail on the dress. She made us feel super special.

My mother and my grandmother

My dear grandmother holding me on the day I was baptized.



My beautiful mother in her teens in front of the back door of my grandparents' house in Graafwater, a small 'dorpie' near Lambertsbaai, where she grew up and my grandmother still lives.

My mother is the one person I could always go to in tears and happiness. She’s been a role model to me since I can remember. Most of her great qualities I have noticed came from my gran. I have been greatly influenced by their good heartedness and great work-ethic. They have always shown me that the woman is the pillar in a family and that what you own does not define you but what you can do with what you have, implementing  a creative and positive outlook.  This makes me feel secure as person and most importantly, as a woman, in a so-called man’s world.