Culture of Colour: Part One

Asha and Dharmesh
Grahamstown

"I thought I'd be nervous," Asha says, smiling as she stands before me, draped from head to toe in jewels that make up the most beautiful dress I think I have ever seen in my lifetime, "but I just feel normal." And it strikes me that even on one of the most important days of her life, she seems like her normal, bubbly, friendly self. While some brides turn to monsters on their big days, Asha has kept her cool throughout the journey to her day, and it's been a long journey.

Yellow, red, purple, blue, pink, yellow, red.

From the outside, the house looks the same as always - the only visible difference is the garland that dresses the patio's doorway, the main thoroughfare for the guests who will be coming for the first of three ceremonies. Once inside though, the lounge has been transformed into a small temple and it lends an air of excitement to the day.

Though the room is empty when I arrive, within minutes it is filled with friends, family and neighbours, more people than I would have thought the room would allow for, who have all come to celebrate with Asha and to wish her well by joining in to paint her skin with a mixture of chickpea flour, turmeric, rose water and other natural bits and bobs that make up the Pithi paste. Though it starts as a solemn and serious affair, the room is soon filled with chatter and laughter, light and colour as each of the guests takes their turn to adorn the bride with paint and pass on their few words of sage wisdom.

Green, pink, yellow, red, blue, orange, white.

The Masonic Hall is mostly empty when I arrive. I'm a little early, but it's worth it for the chance to take in the details - the statuettes and bright garlands, the salts and spices, the powders and string - before the hordes of people begin to file in. It's time for the Grah Shanti to begin.

"I drove from PE," one of the guests informs me as I wait for the bridal party to arrive.
"It's only right," he continues, "that she has family here."
His words hang in the air, his thought uncompleted, but I know what it is that he isn't saying. The memory of Asha's father hangs heavily over the festivities, a constant reminder of the pain of loss that comes from love. But the Daya women are strong, and today is about celebration, initiation and family. I'm reminded of this as the family come forward towards the end of the ceremony to be bound by red string, as they stand together as one with Asha at the centre, a uniting source of mutual joy.

A Lifetime of Happiness

Lolita and Tshepo
The Monument
Grahamstown

Grahamstown is quiet on Sunday mornings. There are no cars lining the road or stopped at the traffic lights and few people mill around the streets, especially at this kind of time. But there is one house, on this particular day, that is filled with hustle and bustle, noise and excitement. It's an environment fitting for a wedding day - the energy is contagious and though I'm not used to being up quite this early, I am wide awake and ready to capture those moments that Lolita and Tshepo will remember for a lifetime.

I have always considered Lolita to be beautiful, and myself lucky to be her photographer, but this morning she is glowing as the bright morning light shines through the windows and falls on her, wide-eyed and nervous, but filled with excitement and expectation for the day ahead.

Just a few houses away, Tshepo is quiet and calm as his friends celebrate around him. Already dressed and anxious for the big day to begin, I can see that he has no doubts.

In both houses, cellphones ring and voices echo from room to room as the friends and family members run around putting together the finishing touches, until finally it is time. Ribbons and jewels, gloves and shoes are slid into place, and Lolita emerges in a gown that would be fitting for any modern-day Disney princess while the men pile into cars and make their way towards the Monument.

People slowly trickle in, starting with Tshepo and his groomsmen, followed by family and friends and finally concluding with the bride and her bridal party who are greeted once more with exuberant singing and dancing, smiles and well wishes. It is a day for celebration, and the celebrating rings through the hollowed venue and fills it with joy, laughter and song. As Lolita arrives, it starts and it continues throughout the ceremony, throughout the reception, throughout the day - a truly jubilant occasion, filled with happiness and laughter making for a wedding unlike any other that I have had the privilege to capture with my camera.

Nerves which have been written across the bride and groom's faces throughout the morning are forgotten as they stand before each other, knowing that this is where they are meant to be, and that they are meant to be here together with the backdrop of Grahamstown to one side and their friends and family behind them. From the moment they are joined, they are inseparable - they are truly one - and it comes naturally to them.

It is a beautiful day for a wedding in Grahamstown, and the quiet of the morning has been broken with sounds of celebration and love. Things are the way they should be. Lolita and Tshepo are married, and have a lifetime of happiness ahead of them.

Love Is...

Angus and Sara
Grahamstown

I thought that I knew where the best view in Grahamstown was. I, like many before me, used to think that it was the view from the Monument, looking over the wall of Fort Selwyn and seeing the Cathedral laid out at my feet. But, on one beautiful afternoon, I was shown just how wrong I was.

I remember Angus saying the last time he was in my studio that cameras make him uncomfortable, but with Sara beside him, he just can't stop smiling. The grins refuse to fade from either of their faces, and as I ask them to look into each others' eyes, it's like they are acknowledging a shared secret - one that no one else knows and that they won't let on. They dance around each other as they position themselves, comfortable in each others spaces. There is nothing that these two don't share as they have made space for each other in their lives.

As we consider where to go for the second half of their photo shoot, I am going through the regular Grahamstown favourites – the Botanical gardens, the Monument, Grey Dam perhaps if they are looking for something a little different – but they have somewhere else in mind. We head onto the highway, and I wonder where they are taking me, especially when they tell me to turn off only a few k’s down the road. As I manoeuvre the little car between the potholes that line the road, I wonder what I've gotten myself in for, but as we pull up alongside a single house set on a hill and the view comes into sight, I understand completely why this is the location that they've chosen.

From here, we are on top of the world, looking down on it in all its glory. From here, you can see everything – Grahamstown as a whole – painted in sunset tones, and as they stand together looking over it all, I can see how at home Angus and Sara are. While I am tiptoeing, worried about potential snakes, they are in their element, surrounded by nature and the place that they call home. As they walk between the strands of long grass, their hands clasped together, supporting each other, I smile to myself.

This is their secret, this peacefulness and love, and a Love Is... comic comes to mind. Love is... Tranquility.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Rosa Brandt
22
Grahamstown

It's been a busy day for photography, and clothes and props are strewn across the studio floor in between empty glasses of wine and bottles of "cheerleader beer". Laughter and giggling can be heard ringing through the garden and the house beyond as my friends and I chatter between shots.

"I love this jacket," Rosa announces as she slips it on over her dress and poses for a shot or two in it. It's one of my favourites - the black leather one from my days in Korea - and it suits her perfectly. But the jacket is just the beginning, and before long the studio has turned into an extended wardrobe for outfits to be tried and tested and fun to be had. It's like going clothing shopping with your best friend, and knowing that you won't end up spending any money - you just get to look great in an outfit for a few minutes before moving on to the next one. It's like the fashion shoot that I have been dreaming of, and Rosa makes a wonderful model for it with her slim frame and her outgoing personality.

It's not just the clothes that get the Rosa treatment, but the props as well as she picks them up and transports us into her imagination. She jumps from socialite to entertainer, from naughtiness to innocence with an ease that brings out the actress in her, and it's wonderful to witness and capture. It's easy to remember while I watch her why it is that we are friends - her easy going nature makes her a pleasure to be around and brings out the fun side of me that often gets ignored and lies dormant for months at a time.

It's the last shoot that I have a chance to get with her, her Grahamstown visit a short one this time around, but it's one that will linger in my memory, bringing a smile to my face for a long time to come - tiding me over until the next time I get to see her.

Scheherazade

Amy Goodenough
23
Grahamstown


I'd never noticed the tattoo before - the font that twirls around itself to tell a story just like its namesake. Though it's not loud or bold, it speaks volumes about its owner. "Scheherazade" it reads. The storyteller.

As she pivots herself on the edge of the chair, as her hair sways back and forth and as she lies on the warm white rug, Amy Goodenough tells me her story through the way that she moves and the ring of her laughter. I have known her for years, but it feels as though this hour spent in the studio has granted me some kind of insight into her person that I didn't have before.

She reads through her favourite book, selecting passages to read aloud to me. They are passages that I have heard before, but hearing them in her voice makes all the difference, and the words ring through the studio leaving their echoes in my memory so that each time I think of Lemony Snicket, my mind will immediately jump to this afternoon spent together.

As she writes in her journal, I watch her hand fall across the page, her concentration, her word weaving, and I am left in awe. I cannot think of a tattoo more apt for her than Scheherazade, and I will think of her ever more as the story teller.

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!

A Part of Their Story

Michael Marabini and Vicky Heideman
Grahamstown

"Hey, Mike."
Grant moves his chair away from the desk as he answers the call - never the world's best multi-tasker - and begins to pace around the house. Into a room one minute, out the next, up and down the hall - his typical phone call routine, but this is no typical phone call.
"You want me to do what?"
I motion with my arms trying to catch his attention and involve him in a game of charades so that I can figure out what's going on.
"Yes, she is."
He catches my eye, but refuses to participate any further than that.
"Yes, she does."
I narrow my eyes now, wondering what exactly it is that I "do".
"Okay, bud. Meet you there."
He hangs up the phone and sidles back in front of his computer, ignoring the glares that I am sending in his direction.
"What's going on?" I finally shout, giving in to my frustration and curiosity.
"Oh," he says as though he's just realised that I'm there. "We're meeting Mike and Vicky at Home Affairs in half an hour."
He turns back to the PC.
"Uh... why?"
"Just as witnesses."
"To..."
"Their marriage."

Fast forward three years, and there I am, my camera in hand, snapping shots of Mike and Vicky. They're fresh from their honeymoon and standing before friends and family in full wedding attire saying, "I do." It's an anniversary party, really - a reason to celebrate three years of happy marriage with those that they love most. And once again, I am a part of their happy moment. I'll also be the one to remind them of their anniversary a year down the line.

A year and a half later, and Mike and Vicky stand in my studio under the harsh, bright lights. I like to think of the pictures that I take as family photographs - a monument to the life that the two have built for themselves around each other, and a testament to the love that they share. They laugh and make fun of each other, they tease and taunt and compliment. They try to stay serious, but they just can't do it for more than a few seconds at a time - can never take themselves too seriously. It's just not who they are. Five years in and Mike and Vicky are just as in love as the day they got married. It's not something that can be said for every couple, not even for most. But I look at them, and I think to myself that I can see them being just as happy in five, ten or twenty years to come.

Thank you, Mike and Vicky, for allowing me to be a small part of your story.