days in drawing
In this ongoing project, I document previous years using my phone’s image library as a reference tool. For each day I took a photo, I select an element to draw. The number of images determines the size of the drawing, and I continue drawing until every image has been recorded.
Each piece is titled according to the number of days I had a photo for—2017, for example, is titled 227 Days because I took photos on 227 days.
The project continues to evolve as I add more years, building a visual archive that captures bits and pieces of my everyday life. These drawings serve as both a reflection and a record of each respective year.
227 Days (2017)
Pen drawing
3350mm x 400mm
2018
October 2019
Pen drawing
297mm x 420mm
2020
In October 2019, a trip through Japan and South Africa unfolds across a collection of illustrated memories.
The Japanese segment begins with a sketch of the Rugby World Cup stadium and a scene featuring Niel in a custom World Cup outfit. Nearby, a shoe by designer Issey Miyake draws attention—a piece inspired by biomimicry, where the structure of a ladybird’s underside has been ingeniously replicated in the sole.
Further along, a visit to Chiharu Shiota’s immersive installation, "The Soul Trembles," at the Mori Art Museum. Japanese architecture, fish motifs, and drawings of kimonos are also seen throughout the drawing.
Our trip to Japan was followed by a visit home. Here, a depiction of the vast Karoo landscape as seen from above, a visit to my grandmother, and a very clear memory of the fragility of her skin—it felt more like paper than skin. Also sketched is a scene at the local traffic department, where a temporary shack contrasts sharply with the urban sophistication of Japan.
November 2019
Pen drawing
297mm x 420mm
2020
November 2019 reflects a renewed connection to my Afrikaans identity.
The drawing features two images from an exhibition at Cape Town’s Zeitz MOCAA: William Kentridge’s immersive installations and a piece by Ghanaian artist El Anatsui, woven from thousands of recycled bottle caps.
The drawing also captures my time with the herbalists Antoinette Pienaar and Oom Johannes. Her hands are shown holding native herbs, and at the bottom of the drawing, her truck, known as die groot wit haai (“the large, white shark”).
My other grandmother makes an appearance. She told me how she still plays piano in her dreams, even though her hands have been twisted by arthritis since her mid-30s.
Two things always stand out when I return to South Africa after months abroad. One is the beauty and expressiveness of the Afrikaans language; the other is the cultural quirks. The former is captured by a drawing of DJ Opperman’s book, Tobias en sy groot rooi tas, and the line, “Jy’s ‘n doos, maar ek dra jou in my hart” (a line from a play). The latter is illustrated through a memorable story in Die Rapport, recounting a woman’s love for her adopted chicken and how her husband was subsequently banned from eating KFC in her home.