Kindling Review

Cape Town based artist Bruce Mackay exhibited Kindling at Wolves in Jo’burg for the month of February. I went to check out the opening night (3 February).

I stepped into Bruce’s quaint world of delicate line work, forestry, birds, tree-sailor people (you betcha) and antique keys.

Like peristalsis, I strode across the room to inspect two pieces that promptly caught my eye. The attraction came in the form of two lino prints, beautifully laser cut into wood. 

One of the two linos. 

The detail and craft in these pieces made me so happy. I got that warm fuzzy feeling of antiquity, of the ‘old world’ where I imagined Bruce as a flannel-wearing, bearded woodcutter, handcrafting works of art from his cottage HQ; fire place crackling, birds singing the theme song of ‘The Sound of Music’… Sigh, handcrafted goodness (and sleep deprivation).

 “Those would make rad tattoos, shotgun?”

This is the first thing I said when I made eyes at a man and woman illustration pair done in pen and ink, with their feral, ‘I’ve come from the sea but been lost in the woods for a long long time and can speak to trees and animals’ look about them. Their faces, old and weathered with the sense of wisdom and sadness that comes with time - would make amazing characters in a graphic novel. Or look great on my forearms. Either way, I loved them.

Kindling as a whole comes down to balance: gentle intricacies in the illustrations that aren’t fickle or flimsy. Art that’s striking but doesn’t have to shout or shock to get your attention. 

And the very name ‘kindling’ – something as small and insignificant as little sticks and twigs, when bunched together and ignited, can start a raging fire that can wipe out an entire forest. The art is pretty; nature is harsh. Balance.

Barring the Old Mother Hubbard of parties just 10 km away (Jozi Fest), and that there wasn’t the usual Friday night bustle and drink hustle at Wolves (which is a damn shame), Kindling was well worth checking out. To balance that out however, I know full well that any ensuing Thursday night would've made up for the lack of attendance. Ten fold.

You can check out more of Bruce's delightful work here and here.

Images by Chris Corbett

Outlines, Bylines and Pickup Lines - an exhibition review for Revolution Daily

(See the real thing here or just keep scrollin' scrollin' scrollin' scrollin')

So it was the first week of January and as wistfully expected, there wasn’t much going down in Jozi. No crazy-big parties. Bob Rocks was still closed. We were all broke. We are all still broke. What’s a girl to do? I know! How ‘bout not get wasted and choo-choo-train dance to electro and go to this little gem instead?

Enter: Outline, an exhibition by Koos Groenewald.





I arrived at Wolves on the opening night, expecting to see some familiar faces but for the most part, assumed everyone was still on holiday. I was wrong. Wolves may not be a big place, but it was packed with freshly tanned, eager-eyed Jozinis, slapping their jaws together with such vigor that it actually felt good to be back.


Outline was more than an art exhibition – it was a play date. It felt right. So did the niche-brewed beer. And Wolves, set in the heart of Illovo, Jo’burg, was the perfect backdrop for Koos’ quirky, playful illustrations.




Koos’ style is fun and reminds me a little of Quentin Blake’s sprawled illustrations from Roald Dahl novels – naughty, irreverent, cheeky. The character and mischievousness in the faces of his animals, human-like expressions at that, have a way of making you grin. And the human faces? Well, they’re the kind of humans I want to make friends with. There’s a crazy energy to Koos’ childlike scrawls, something dangerous.




But let’s just get one thing straight; there is a difference between ‘childlike’ and ‘childish’. The former is awesome and imaginative, naïve in a way that suggests zero ego and hardened cynicism. Childish is just, well, silly and rudimentary. Koos’ work is certainly not the latter.The childlike element might also have something to do with the fact that these illustrations were created from one line.




One line.




Yup, like that game where you put pencil to paper, freely scribble some lines, create a shape then ask, ‘What is it?’ This is a game I’d like to play but can swiftly confirm would need labels and descriptors. I envy kids who can, without a doubt in their minds, create. Little artists making little metanarratives in crayon. That’s basically every kid. That was me as a young lass. That’s Koos Groenewald.





Review by Lauren Bow and photographs by Chris Corbett.


The exhibition runs until 31 January, so best you come play. Check out the Facebook event here and see more from Koos here.