After several years of addressing serious social issues in my art, I felt it was time to just be playful. The Sheeple series started as a ceramic sculpture, with knitted woollen elements.

When I photographed her for an exhibition catalogue, I saw the potential for a painting, and from there the sheeple developed a life of their own, behaving more and more like divas as they went along!

Limited edition sheeple prints are available from the El Gecko Publishing store.

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.”
(Christopher Reeve: “Superman”)

Arising from the Africa Weeps series, these works acknowledged the role of single mothers, many of whom are refugees.

I feel that many single moms fall into the category of everyday heroes… as they juggle the need to earn livings and meet the needs of their children. The works are a tribute to those who guide their children through situations of social meltdown and uncertainty with grace, dignity and courage, often being torn between attending to work, or being with the children, to guide and protect them.

This series expresses the hopelessness facing many of this continent’s people. It covers the plight of women and children in so many parts of Africa, refugees, the so called “lost generation”, displacement, conflict, the spectre of joblessness and the big divide between 1st world/3rd world rich/poor in the continent.

To deal with these painful social issues, without making them too “in-your-face” to live with, I adopted a visual language, using running paint to depict social meltdown, and metallic foils to suggest that these people have value, even if the world dismisses them, or the 1st world element of the continent, in contrast with the poverty of the 3rd world life so many are struggling with.

Many of the women and children are depicted as faceless, because the rest of the world often sees them as nameless hungry masses, rather than unique individuals. The paintings celebrate the spirit of the children, who despite the terrible conditions so many live under, facing the bleakest of futures, still manage to embrace life with a dignity and cheerfulness.

Coming from a long line of architects, I grew up with a love of old buildings and good design. Life in the historic heart of a city can often be bittersweet. You are immersed in a cosmopolitan buzz that is absent in suburbia, surrounded by wonderful old buildings, designed and built when good design and workmanship took precedence over saving time and money. But all buildings, if not maintained, will degrade over time, so a degree of urban decay and its companion, crime, is often present in these older parts.

The worldwide phenomenon of urban decay becomes particularly noticeable when amplified by the rampant crime. In South Africa, the draconian excesses of Apartheid led to a pendulum swing reaction, so that the new Government was too soft on crime. This has resulted in the ironic situation where criminals run free on the streets, whilst honest residents live behind bars and razor wire. The old Premier Milling building, elegant in its functional simplicity, beautifully proportioned and with arched windows to break the austerity, is one notable victim of this. It has been abandoned, and has now reached the point where it is probably too late to save it. I’ve been photographing, drawing and painting it in recent years, chronicling the sad decline, in protest against the loss of our heritage icons.

This ongoing series examines the effects of conflict and war, and the need to bridge the divides we construct between ourselves. It all started in 2007 with a black and white painting, with one red poppy, called “lest we forget.” It evolved with variations on the theme, until a series with block patterns emerged, symbolising both chess (a war game) and the chequered flag (winner takes all.) The poppies were a reminder of the cost in human life, metal foil to denote the things one holds valuable enough to fight over and as usual, the running paint spoke of social meltdown.

The latest variant to emerge from the war series is a softer one, perhaps not so much war per-se, but any conflict or dispute, and it reminds us that there is never only one side to any story. It may look cut and dried as the parties square off across a boundary, often with obvious differences on the surface, but there is seldom one side that is all totally good, and the other totally bad. There is a need to look for common ground in order to seek a resolution to conflict.

A series which began with the idea of combining horns and thorns, i.e. cattle with large horns and the large paired thorns found on Acacia Karoo trees, which bear a striking resemblance to each other. With the obvious symbolism of cattle being protected in thorn kraals, it encompassed thoughts of protecting what one holds valuable, which is relative, depending on who you are.

If you’re a Dinka Tribesman, your cattle are literally your life, of the greatest possible value. Due to cattle-feuds and raids, it is no longer enough to protect them in kraals of thorns. In Southern Sudan, Uganda and Kenya, cattle wars have led to the death of literally thousands, and herdsmen protect their cattle with AK 47s.

By contrast, in 1st world countries, cattle are just another commodity, and can be depicted more flippantly. Valued possessions often revolve around fixed property, which is protected with razor-wire and alarm systems. There is also a need to protect ourselves. So the range of images in this series is quite wide, and combines painting, drawing, photography, and ceramics.

Chess and Monopoly are games, but reflect a much bigger picture. On many levels, from whole nations, down to individuals, we are in a struggle to hold onto what we hold dear, while simultaneously dispossessing others (whether consciously or by default.)

This chessboard installation is made up of individual pieces, each telling a story … maybe someone’s home, land, wealth, poverty. Perhaps an oppressive leader, a homeless bushman, someone whose shack is their castle, or whose castle is their prison. The works form a big picture, ‘a cacophony of voices trying to be heard’. But, as with each of us, they also have their own unique story to tell. So each is for sale individually. They have been made using many different media and techniques, yet what unites them is the encaustic… hot wax melted into them.