Words by Shannon Devy It’s a dazzling summer Saturday morning in Cape Town, and I’m washing down a Nosh bar with a Coke in a parking lot in Gardens. I’ve got a needle phobia and a tattoo booked across the street, so I’m raising my blood sugar in preparation. I neck the rest of the soda, lock the car, and push through the doors of the famous TOMB tattoo. It’s probably the sugar, but I feel cheerful. The shop is a riot of colour. Part shrine, part fever dream, it’s packed from

“I think that, at the heart of all my bodies of work there always lies the sense of belonging. Whether it is in this land, whether it is within yourself and also within the day-to-day routines.” Words: Dan Charles Not long after leaving her studio in Woodstock, my phone buzzed with a barrage of texts from the artist Alka Dass. She had sent me an assortment of screenshots and links to all of the poems that we had spent a good portion of the afternoon gushing over while drinki

I'm sitting on the floor, surrounded by his life. Dust and detritus everywhere costume fragments, etching plates, drawings, photographs, paintings. The birds are loud outside, and so is the sea. It's quiet otherwise. Just me and the accumulated weight of it all. There’s a sign he used to make and stick up on the building site of our childhood home, where I grew up: “Mind Your Mind.” A warning about bumping your head. I feel mine bumping against something heavier now—the archi

The spindle, whorl & wheel are tools, cognitive artifacts and archetypes that have come to create the modern human mind. For tools are creators of worlds. This month I'm going to spin a real ramble of a yarn. It seems fitting—I've always been drawn to cloth, to the art of textiles. I come from a long line of people with all kinds of sensory sensitivities, and as such was raised to appreciate the weave, quality and the breathability of a fibre. I also come from a long line of