Random Thoughts

  I started freelancing in twenty fourteen after been retrenched from a somewhat cushy job as a client liaison manager at a printing company. I have always been involved in photography in some way or other and decided to take the plunge and make it a business. I spent a lot of money on state of the art equipment and went about branding myself as a freelancer for hire. Here is what I have learned over the years. Get Up. Dress Up. Show Up. This is often the hardest thing to do and it often takes an act of will, a deliberate decision that has to be made. You need to remember that unless you make the effort nothing is going happen. The adage, “You get back what you put in” is very true. For me it was the whole “shower, shave and get dressed as if I was going to work” routine, even if the “office” was in the room next door. I still do it. That is exactly what you are doing. Going to work. Family Support:....... Is vital. My wife has a day job and for a long time we battled. My f...

Clarkes Estate is bordered by Owen Road to the north, 35 th Avenue to the east and the non-operational railway that goes to Bellville and the city “round the back”. It is directly beneath the flight path of planes landing at Cape Town International Airport when the south Easter blows. It also has the reputation of been one of the most dangerous little suburbs in the Elsies River area. It too is afflicted by poverty, unemployment, drug addiction and violent crime. I went early. Purposefully. The morning sunlight was going to give good light. The residents had not quite awakened yet and I was going to meet up with a City of Cape Town solid waste cleaning crew. Why. Well the whole thing about illegal dumping has been a curiosity for me. No matter where you drive through predominantly impoverished areas you will encounter dirt and refuse that has been dumped on open fields or on the side of the road. Main roads through Elsies River, the strand road through Eerste River, an area like Dunoo...

  Unbeknown to me I was standing on the spot where Dumisani Joxo died. The spot where he fell after been shot by a twenty two old cop. Even as we were led down the path next to the railway line and over the river the overarching question was how did this all happen here and why did it all happen so fast. To get to the site one has to cross the river bridge and walk down a pathway and along the railway line. The spot is halfway down the lane that is a dead end. The nearest flats overlooking the lane is about twenty to thirty meters away. There are gaps in the metal palisade fence that one can walk through to either cross the railway tracks or get out of the alley. We were told by a Clicks employee that the little community has been there for a long time and that Dumisani and the little group was very well known in the area. He described them as a peaceful and quite group that never caused any disturbance and Dumisani was known for keeping the peace in the area and worked as a car ...

  I am not really sure one can use beaches as a measure of how unequal our society is or how people are treated by a city that carries a very loudly proclaimed slogan as "The City that WORKS for YOU." Before I get into the stuff that concerns me, some context. I love my city. Cape Town will always be home. I live in an area that, on a good day, is fifteen minutes’ drive from the city centre. The nearest shopping mall is five minutes’ drive from home. Driving the wife to work is, on a good day, a seven to ten minute drive. The nearest beach is also at best a twenty minute drive and I have choices. So in the bigger scheme of things I am, I guess, privileged. Over the last few weeks I've been out driving to places to take pictures. I did the south peninsula on one day and days later went a little further on the False Bay coast to Monwabisi, Macassar and the Strand. Couple of days ago the wife and I went around the Deep South again and after a stop in Kalk Bay and Hout ...

  We started visiting a sick family member in Eerste River mid August. During one such visit a family member mentioned how he needed to get up at 3am the next morning to take someone to join the que at the local SASSA office sort out her child grant. My immediate question was why. The answer came back if you want to get helped this is what needs to be done. Otherwise you will never get what you need. I than found out there is a nightly camp that pops up of people coming there as "early" as 6pm on the night before to be first in line the next morning. The kicker is there was no guarantee you would come away with any measure of success. Our visits to the family became an almost daily event. The SASSA thing popped in the conversation every time. The stories took on a different spin every time. I found the need to capture this on camera grew every time we visited. So after checking out the lay of the land on one or two trips home I figured out how to get the shot. Anyway, I got m...

  September three, twenty sixteen was a special day. Yes is was my birthday. It was a Saturday and was the day a dream was fulfilled. Well kind off. Let me sketch the background. It goes way back. Big brother Michael was a photojournalist for the District Mail in Somerset West. So throughout my school career I wanted to be like my big brother. I wanted to do what he did. Write stories and take pictures. 1978 I was in standard nine or grade 11 as they call it now. Big brother was killed in motorcycle accident that year. It was devastating. Yet I carried on seeking my dream. Rhodes University would have been the place to be but finances at the time just did not allow for it. Instead I applied to the than SANS institute to study journalism. My application was unsuccessful. But that dream never died. I went and studied to become a teacher. That unfortunately, did not go according to plan either. After that plan failed I landed my first job at a photographic studio in Somerset West. J...