Simply Stunning

Verne and Monique
Wedding
Cape Town

"Are you sure this is the place?" Grant asks as he pulls up outside the facebrick house.
"I think so," I say, though I'm unsure myself. It's not all that different from the houses around it - nice enough, but not exactly the wedding venue that I had been imagining. I know that it's going to be a small wedding, but from this perspective, it doesn't look like the house could fit more than 20 people inside it. Maybe 30 at a stretch. I ring the doorbell, expecting a confused voice on the other end when I say that I'm there for Verne and Monique, but instead I'm met with the groom himself making his way down the steps to greet me. As he leads me through the house, I start realising just how much effort has been put into the day by Monique's family - champagne glasses line one table while a candy station that rivals even the best Sweets From Heaven lines another. Beautiful bouquets of hydraengas dripping with pearls sit atop collections of books making up the centre pieces for each beautifully laid table. A bright blue pool filled with white roses begs you to jump in. More roses held in glass teardrops sway from the side of the tent in the breeze. The more I look around me, the more I realise just how perfectly the space suits the two of them - it's simple, but stunning. I pull myself away to go and see the bride.

Monii is nervous, not used to being fussed over or being the centre of attention, but she's hiding it well. On the other side of the house, Verne's almost as bad, but both are handling the excitement and nerves by remembering one important thing - today is the day that marks the beginning of the rest of their lives together. As they come together and walk hand-in-hand onto the balcony to the applause of the family and friends that have gathered to celebrate them, it's as though a weight has been lifted off their shoulders. The speeches are filled with recollections and advice, the conversations with joy and laughter as old friends meet far-away family members and drinks are shared from picnic baskets filled with goodies. Some notice the geeky details like the Skyrim theme being played for the first dance (though few realise that the inside of the rings are inscribed with "Player 1" and "Player 2", a reference which I delight in) while others comment on just how beautiful the bride looks in blue. By the time the couple are ready to slip away for a short sunset photo shoot, the atmosphere has slipped into comfortable relaxation making it easy to sneak out almost unnoticed.

It's the first chance that they're really had to be alone all day, and as they watch the lights turn on over the city, the lean into each other and I step back, letting them have the moment to themselves. They talk, out of my earshot, but I can see it in the faces and their smiles. They could be talking about the cars, about games that they want to play, about work for all I know, but their expressions and the small gestures that they share speak volumes. It's the little things in life that mean that most, and it's clear to me that Verne and Monii mean the world to each other.

I would like to thank Verne and Monii for inviting me to be a part of their day, and would like to thank both the Mulholland and Franszen families for making me feel so welcome!

Playful

Verne and Monique
Cape Town

Monique and Verne are a playful couple. Mostly I've known them to love playing computer and board games, but it was the playfulness between them that stuck in my mind when I was trying to think of somewhere in Cape Town to do a couple shoot with them. I grew up in Cape Town, right up the road from where the two of them were staying, and all that kept running through my head was the idea of playgrounds. So we found one!

At first there was a bit of hesitation, both Verne and Monique not being used to being in front of the camera. But before long, all the awkwardness was forgotten and it became an afternoon of fun and laughter. From tyre swings to tiny slides, roundabouts to seesaw horses, there was a lot of talk about childhoods spent in parks and memories coming up left, right and centre. To top it all off, we found a perfect tree for climbing, and Monii graciously volunteered!

Thank you to Verne and Monique for a wonderfully fun afternoon reminiscing about childhoods, laughing and climbing trees. You guys were absolutely fantastic! This is actually the second shoot that I did with this awesome couple. Watch this space for the photographs from their wedding, coming next week.

Thank You, Amanda

Amy, Dee, Rosa and Samantha
Grahamstown

"Who?"
The question rings in my ears and I take a deep breath as I prepare myself for the explanation, which will inevitably be followed by bursts of confusion, opinions and a myriad of YouTube videos.
"Amanda Palmer," I reply, and am met with a blank stare that begs for something more.

I can't really blame them for their ignorance, as much as I would like to. If someone had mentioned the name to me as little as two years ago, my response would have been similarly indifferent. I did not understand the significance of the name then, just as they do not understand it now. It's my job to try and educate them, though it is not an easy task.



My education happened slowly, progressively. It started with a single video and a song that echoed in my head and my heart, its message resonating through me for a brief period, only to be forgotten in the everyday chaos that is life. Still, the message and vague memory remained along with a statement of:

"Fuck yes! I am exactly the person that I want to be!" 

If I believed in signs, I would have said that this was one. It had come to me at the time when I had only just begun to realise that the sadness that had been trying to drown me for more than two years was, in fact, more than just sadness and a feeling of having a few down days; that it was depression and that I needed help to keep myself afloat.

Had I come across the song a month, a year, a lifetime earlier, had I been exposed to Amanda in another way, had I had a different introduction, I am fairly certain that our relationship (or, should I say, my relationship with her music) would have been entirely different. Instead, when my boyfriend showed me a Dresden Dolls video weeks later, the image that sprang to mind was of a beautifully imperfect Palmer posed on a stool with a skirt falling in waterfalls around her and speaking to me, just me, from her podium.

From there, my love for the music and the person behind it blossomed to the point where, on finding a group intent on bringing her to South Africa for a performance, I knew that I had to get involved somehow. I had to show my support and thanks for this beautiful person and what she stands for. And what better way to do so than to use the skills available to me? With that in mind, I gathered as many like-minded people as I could find on a Saturday afternoon and hosted an Amanda Palmer photo shoot in my small garage studio.

Our joint passion for the town and the idea of a Palmer Arts Festival performance led to the decision of a Grahamstown specific effort rather than a general plea for a South African tour. Stationing myself behind the camera, where I am most comfortable, I was able to capture our messages, our interpretations of her music, portrayed in a way that we hoped would capture the attention of the woman herself.

Regardless of whether she ends up in Grahamstown/Cape Town/Johannesburg or not, I felt that the messages and the love behind them remain true - Amanda Palmer remains in my (and our) mind(s) and we love her for the person she is, the songs she sings and the difference that she makes in our lives.

Thank you for that, Amanda, and keep doing what you do!

Childhood

Alexia Geldenhuys van Zyl
3
Grahamstown

I do not have any children, and at this stage of my life that is a very good thing. I am not even 24 years old and the closest thing that I have to a child is my cat, Puddims. But I do have a goddaughter, and there is little that I love more in the world than spoiling her rotten.

Yesterday was Alexia's third birthday, so Grant and I headed over to the Geldenhuys/Van Zyl house with our hands filled with the presents that we had found (and made) for her. The look on her face when we walked in was priceless as she saw the giant frog that could not be wrapped surrounded by Hello Kitty covered gifts. Not being old enough to open them herself, I had to help her by making the first tear and then watching her pull it and exclaim "BABY!" as she unwrapped each individually wrapped fluffy toy, followed by her other gifts which she was less excited about naming, but more excited about playing with. Grant and I always get Alexia fluffy toys, possibly because I want to get them but cannot possibly justify keeping them for myself, so end up giving them to someone who I know will appreciate them as much as I do. But this birthday, we decided that she was getting old enough to start learning as well. So we got building blocks with the alphabet and numbers and pictures on them so that she can start getting some learning in while she plays. We also got her bath gel that we know will cause her hours of joy and her parents hours of cleaning up - a toy that no parent would get their own child, but that others feel no guilt in buying.

Watching Alexia play with her toys always makes me feel young. She plays with such abandon, with such vigour as though this is the best thing in the whole wide world. I miss being that age, when every new toy is the best thing in the world and disappointments are short lived. It's certainly a good mindset to have, but one that we, as adults, have some trouble getting to grips with. But for now, I am more than happy to watch from the sidelines as Alexia grows and hope that I will be there for her when the frivolities of life start to fade and seriousness starts taking over.

Slutwalk Grahamstown

SLUTWALK GRAHAMSTOWN
29 October 2011 


Slutwalk. It sounds crude and offensive and harsh. But sometimes you have to be harsh and crude and offensive to get people to take notice, and that is exactly what the point of a Slutwalk is.



The idea of Slutwalks started in Toronto in April this year and have since spread throughout the globe. Every major city is having their own Slutwalk where women arrive dressed however they please and saying for once and all: "What I wear is no excuse to rape me." Legs, cleavage and navels abound as women dress in short skirts, skimpy tops and even, in some cases lingerie. But this is exactly the point. Dressing in what someone might think is an inappropriate manner is no excuse for rape. Using it as an excuse for rape is unacceptable and society needs to realise this.

Grahamstown's very own Slutwalk might not have had the attendance of ones in bigger cities (like Cape Town, Johannesburg, Durban as well as the international alternatives), but the spirit was certainly there. The turn-out was around 100 people all dressed to kill and shouts of "Wathint' abafazi wathint'imbokodo" (translated as You strike a woman, you strike a rock) filled the streets. Signs were passed out and pink ribbons were attached around wrists, necks and used as headbands.



Photographers may not have been the most popular people around - no one particularly wants to have photographs of themselves splattered on Facebook even at the best of times - but there were tons of them around regardless. Faces were hidden, comments of: "If this gets into the newspaper, I'm going to sue" could be heard and I snuck around in between protesters to try and get the necessary shots without being too obtrusive.

At the end of the day, Slutwalks are entirely necessary in societies where it is still acceptable for the excuse of clothing to be used as an excuse for rape. Hopefully, in the years to come, this will no longer be the case, and I am fairly sure that Slutwalks would have played a part in the revolution. At least they show that there is still hope.