It’s three o’clock on a warm afternoon. We’re seated in a coffee shop in central Paarl, moving from outside under the trees to a quiet corner. Light cracks through the window, illuminating the sage green wallpaper, patterned with storybook-style birds and creeping vines. There are hanging plants, an eclectic mix of artworks, and pastel-toned ceramics – very on-brand for the guest.

I’m sitting down with artist Lené Ehlers. Over the course of two hours, we’ll talk about art and process – and a creative approach to life. About trusting your intuition, and following the path that feels most aligned.

Although we’re tucked into this cosy nook, beside a doorway where visitors come and go (one of whom is Lené’s mom), I imagine her back in her studio: a familiar pair of overalls, flecked with paint.

“There’s a pair of pants I always wear, and a T-shirt with paint spots – I have to wear that uniform, because the paint gets everywhere.”

The image adds to the idyll: life and work flowing interchangeably. The artist part of the process; blending into her work. Leaving touches of herself – like a signature. The hopeless – or in this case, hopeful – romantic embedded into every stroke.

I wonder about the interplay of living and working – the degree of separation (if any) required for the creative. Particularly for someone who lives in a home-meets-studio.

“Aren’t you tempted to just roll out of bed, pick up a brush, and do another stroke?” I ask.

“I used to be like that. But the thing with painting is that you need the right light. I’ve tried candlelight, but natural light is best – so I don’t have that temptation to work through the night.”

Looking at Lené’s pieces, there is considerable romance. The palettes are soft and calming. The overall effect is dreamy and sensory.

We talk about her chosen subject matter, and the feeling it evokes. The drawing of inspiration from something visually pleasing – and how this itself is a kind of fresh, radical concept. How the pursuit of the pleasurable, of beauty, might stand against modern art as we know it: pieces viewed with a sense of detachment or disillusionment. Works in white-walled spaces that require a certain kind of cerebral engagement.

Emotive. Sensory. Pleasing in palette and subject. Lené’s floral-driven works create a sense of softness and comfort. These are pieces to be lived with and enjoyed – not just observed.

“In traditional gallery spaces, I often feel like it’s a cold atmosphere to interact with art. Some people feel like they need to engage with a piece in a particular way. But in a warm space, you’re more comfortable. You can experience it in your own way.”

In 2022, Lené found a fitting ‘cosy’ home for her work after meeting Michael Chandler of Chandler House.

“Chandler House has this homey feel. I could immediately see my paintings living in that kind of space. Michael collects antique interiors – couches, kilims, ceramics – so it creates a picture. It’s immersive, and that suits the work.”

That show marked a turning point – both aesthetically and emotionally. It affirmed the path she was on, and helped define the distinctive style of her current work: painterly florals, thick with texture, laced with textile influences.

“At that first exhibition, Michael introduced me to a woman who imports Suzanis – traditional textiles from Uzbekistan. These have become a major inspiration in my work. He could see I had a pattern-driven aesthetic, but needed a little something more. From that show, I actually bought my first Suzani – so it’s a sentimental piece too.”

While Lené’s medium today is oil on canvas, her roots lie in floristry.

“While I was studying in Stellenbosch, I worked at a florist on weekends. When I graduated, I started doing flowers full time – working at different companies for around five years. Then I slowly began illustrating on the side, just for myself. That led to an exhibition in a gallery I’d admired. And it just built from there. Eventually, I started experimenting with paint, and now I’m doing full-on oils.”

Her earlier pieces, done in acrylic ink on paper, were more experimental – hints of florals embedded within patterns. Now, she’s arrived at something more grounded: flowers centre stage, with subtle echoes of pattern and textile below.

Lené’s current oil works are rich in texture – thick, expressive, and slow to dry. Sometimes a single piece can take up to three months to complete. And the process is tactile. Instinctual. Driven by feeling.

“I don’t overthink it. I start by going to the flower market and picking colours that speak to me. Then I arrange them in a vase, choose a cloth, and begin painting. I get a lot of joy from curating the still life before I even touch the brush.”

But how does it begin?

“I have synesthesia – when I feel something, I see a colour. So the palette very much comes from a certain state of mind.”

The work unfolds intuitively – following the flow of a line, or called to a colour, by instinct. It’s an approach to process, but also a kind of ordering principle to life. A way of being in flow. Living a life defined by your own terms. Engrossed by the work, and letting what feels right lead.

And for those wanting to be led by that freedom of feeling; by the freedom to lead a creative life – what is her advice?

“Start small. But take aligned steps. People ask me: should I get a gallery? Should I go it alone? I can’t answer that. That’s between you and your journey. You have to do what feels right for you. There are no right or wrongs.”

Before we part, I ask Lené about her dream exhibition space. I half expect her to say a sunlit gallery in Paris, or the splendour of the Tate or the Louvre. But her answer is simpler. More grounded. Entirely in keeping with everything she’s said.

“I see my artworks in cosy heritage homes. A warm place with wooden floors. Above a mantelpiece. That would make me very happy – to know that my paintings were in a happy home.”

Words by Georgina Selander

Photography by JD Allin

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Amy Ayanda is a Cape Town based multi-disciplinary artist and musician. We recently collaborated with her to produce an original artwork for our Joburg store at 44 Stanley. The piece is inspired by our richly coloured Wild Fire Double Cloth, a reversible, 100% cotton throw. We sat down with Amy to talk about process, palette, her journey into motherhood, and the importance of slowing down.

“I’m having a love affair with blue.”

Amy is standing in front of an easel in her Mowbray studio. Behind her is a large floral scape. There’s the distinctive yellow. Warm browns. Swirls of rich blue. It’s a piece that seemingly captures the point at which she finds herself now, artistically.

“There are styles that I have become known for – like the landscapes and the florals. But last year I went through a phase of covering everything in blue. I think it was a sense of needing time to pause.”

Amy’s relationship with colour reflects her evolving process and, lately, the necessity of slowing down. It’s about breaking free from static visions of yourself. The breathing room that comes with change. And the freedom to reiterate and to reimagine.

“My final show at art school was quite conceptual. I’d done large landscapes, oil paintings, and layered work with mixed media and dried flowers. I was producing art that people loved, but couldn’t afford. When I stepped out of that, I didn’t really know what kind of art I made, and I had to figure that out. There wasn’t that application of the marketing side of things, and I felt a bit confused about who I was producing my work for and why.”

But something shifted quite soon thereafter. Around 2017, when Amy’s first child, Frances, was a year old, a kind of fearlessness took root. A vanguard, stick-it-to-the-man spirit that would bring life to the emerging Amy Ayanda brand.

“At the time, I was waitressing for 7 or 8 hours a day, and still breastfeeding. Pumping in the bathrooms and walking away from my shift with R300 a night. And then I just decided, I’m going to spend that time in the studio and, as a joke, sell my paintings for R300 each. I started making small-scale pieces, painting on paper. I would paint every single night. When my partner, Dean, came home from work, he would take over with Frances, and I’d make as much as possible. I’d photograph it, and sell it on Instagram. I made so much money that first month that I decided to quit waitressing. That changed my life.

It was such a cool period. Frances and I had so much one on one time. We’d walk in the forest, and have beautiful, connecting time. And then at night I’d go into my studio at the bottom of the house and just work – sometimes until 11pm – but it was exciting.”

From there – through an intense period of self-practice and late night studio sessions – Amy began to develop her characteristic style. Refining the Fine Art education she’d received at Michaelis to cultivate a more intuitive artistic voice.

“I think the trick was actually not being so precious about it. I stopped holding on to what I thought something should look like, and went for whatever was coming out of me at the time. I went through the motions of thinking, ‘What does the consumer want?’ But each day I went back into the studio, and worked on making it more and more my own. Over time I developed this style of repetitive mark making, and found I enjoyed working with certain colours.”

This continued for a few years, as Amy established a successful business with a body of work that took inspiration from local landscapes, fynbos and flora, and colour. But after the burnout she experienced post-COVID, and the birth of her twins, she recognised the need to slow down, and to take a more considered approach to her work.

“Back then I had this drive in me that was quite intense. It enabled me to build my brand, but it also wasn’t sustainable. I was still doing things at the pace before I’d even become pregnant with the twins. So recently it’s been about making changes to value myself, and my work. I needed fresh colour. Even looking at my brushstrokes – they were very tight, and controlled. But over this year of slowing down, everything is just looser and freer.

I still paint flowers, landscapes, and images of people holding one another. But they’re a little bit more abstract – not necessarily the mother-child connection, because I think that connection isn’t restricted to having birthed someone. And my views on the ideal way that mothers should mother, or breastfeed, are out the window. My first birth with Frances was very natural and all went according to plan. But my twin birth was 7 weeks early, and I couldn’t breastfeed. That almost spiritual way that you believe mothering or birthing takes place isn’t the same for everyone. That also helped me become a better mom. And so birth then became a big part of the images I made.”

Slowing down has allowed her to be more intentional about her craft. Although the frenzied online sale culture of COVID made her work widely accessible, she’s creating room for more one-on-one connections and collaborations. And finding joy in smaller moments.

“I really love walking. I’ll go to Newlands or Rondebosch, or the Pipe Track if I’m feeling brave. Painting also brings me back into a state of meditation – it’s like a diary entry. I’m soaking it all in. I’m grateful that I can just be with the kids and be a bit more quiet and observe more, because I think there’s a lot to gain in observing.”

In many ways, Amy’s journey as an artist has come full circle. She now lives and works in her childhood home in Mowbray – a place that provided a safe container for her early creative expression. A place that continues to fuel her connection to memory, and to motherhood.

“My studio is my old lounge, where my dad used to sit and listen to his radio. There’s a fireplace here, and it was always a very warm space. When there were thunderstorms, my sister and I used to move our mattresses in, and open the curtains. The fire would be going, and we’d watch the thunder and lightning through the window. That memory is quite a special one, and sometimes when I’m in my studio, or when Frances walks in, I think of that.

We moved back in in 2021, when my twins were 9 months old. I was the youngest of 3, and now I have 3 children. And my child goes to the same school that I went to, across the road. So it feels like quite a 360 for me. A beautiful in-sync, flowy line of time that’s come back together. Sometimes it’s scary, because being a parent is scary, but I have this sense of knowing, because home is a safe place.”

Seeing Amy now, a grown artist, and mother of 3, begs the question: what was she like as a child?

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been painting and drawing, and making up stories in my mind. I always wanted to redecorate my bedroom. I would focus on it, and it would become my whole life for a weekend. I’d even save up money to buy paint tubs and redo the walls. My room was a different colour so many times. So I always had that energy to change things up, and go for it. My parents were incredibly supportive. They didn’t think any idea was too big. When there was passion around it, we were always supported.”

This connection to home and to memory is something that Amy brings to her work. Her piece for Mungo incorporates the colours of the Wild Fire Double Cloth, and marries her earlier styles with where she finds herself now: the vivid pinks with the cooler blue tones, and the familiar fast-paced mark making with softer strokes.

“I really love this landscape. And I think both art and cloth speak to each other – to calm, sensory home environments. With weaving and with art, there’s story behind it, and process. And the fact that it’s local – there’s nothing cooler than that. We’ve got so many amazing talents here. Why look anywhere else?”

Reflecting on Amy’s course, there is a lot to be proud of. There are hallmarks of courage, and persistence. To produce a significant body of work, pursue paths in both art and music, build a brand, and raise three children… It is no wonder that she is frequently asked, ‘how do you do it?’

“I’ve learned to be quite fearless. A lot of this has taken a lot of grit. Selling art is incredibly difficult. Marketing it is incredibly difficult. But I’ve been quite fearless in the way I’ve jumped into things. I like the idea of building community, and making people feel like they can do something – that they can take a chance, because it’s definitely possible. You don’t need a ton of money. You just need to be brave.”

Find Amy Ayanda’s artwork for Mungo in our Joburg retail store at 44 Stanley, Milpark.

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How many of us can say we bring our whole selves, our values, emotions, and life experiences, to work every day? It takes a special kind of job to make space for who you really are. For Master Weaver and founder, Stuart Holding, ​​Mungo isn’t just a business; it’s the reflection of a life lived fully. Stuart’s journey began in the mills of Yorkshire, where he trained as a weaver in his formative years. From there, his path took unexpected turns, from a stint in Australia to a new beginning in South Africa. Along the way, he embraced some wild adventures, found love, had children, and even explored unconventional projects like weaving with dog hair. Mungo stands as the culmination of Stuart’s experiences – a legacy of family, passion, and a lifelong commitment to the art of weaving. Join us as we sit down with Stu to talk about the story behind Mungo and the man who brought it to life.

Stu Holding was born in High Bentham in Northern Yorkshire. This region, along the River Wenning, was known to be one of the centres of weaving in the 18th Century.

When did your passion for woven textiles begin?

In many ways, weaving textiles was almost destiny for me. I grew up in High Bentham, a town with three textile mills. For many, working in the mills or the surrounding farms was a natural career path. I remember being about 11 years old when my mother would send me to the corner café. I’d often stop outside the mills, peering through frosted windows to watch workers inspect woven fabric, holding it up to the light to check for faults. It was captivating. Those moments sparked a lifelong interest in textiles.

At 16, I started my apprenticeship at the Wenning Silk Mills, spending five years “going through the mill” as the saying goes. It was there I developed a deep respect for the craft of weaving. To this day, the transformation of yarn into fabric amazes me. Standing in the Mungo Mill today, watching the first few metres of cloth come off the loom, still blows my hair back.

After completing my apprenticeship and qualifying as a Loom Overlooker at 21, I left High Bentham and spent a few years travelling before settling in South Africa, where Mungo would eventually take root.

1960s snapshots: Left – Stu Holding’s home in High Bentham, a hub for weaving and agriculture in Britain. Right – A young Stu with his guitar, embracing his creative side.

What happened next?

In the 1970s, I moved to South Africa, where I met my wife, Janet, a potter. We eventually moved to Plettenberg Bay, a coastal town on South Africa’s Garden Route, where I began training local yarn spinners. My early weaving experiments involved mohair, which I turned into blankets, jackets, and waistcoats. I sold these at the original Old Nick trading store, part of the Old Nick Village, a historic homestead that Janet and I have expanded into a hub for creative studios, workshops, and retail stores.

Stu met Jan in 1974 after he moved to South Africa (they met through his dog, Cassie).

How did Mungo become a family-run business?

About 15 years ago, our children, Dax and Tessa, joined the business, taking Mungo to new heights. Tessa brought a strong creative vision, shaping the brand’s visual identity and marketing, while Dax focused on upholding the company’s core principles: quality, innovation, sustainability, and transparency. One major milestone was achieving GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) certification in 2019, which was a proud moment for all of us.

It’s incredibly rewarding to have them onboard, contributing to Mungo’s future growth while maintaining its ethical production practices and commitment to sustainable textiles.

Top left: Stu Holding in action. Bottom Left: Jan and Stu holding and their two dogs. Centre: Stu tinkering with a loom with Dax’s assistance. Right: Stu firing pots.

How did cloth-making expand into what Mungo is today?

In 1998, I was gifted two Lancashire looms dating back to the 1880s. These were the very looms I had trained on during my apprenticeship. I refurbished them and started weaving small runs of cloth in a studio at the back of Old Nick Village. I kept the doors open, allowing visitors to watch the weaving process. This connection between the maker, the product, and the process became fundamental to Mungo’s philosophy.

As we expanded, we built the Mungo Mill in 2017, a double-volume building next to our original retail store. Today, the mill houses close to 100 employees and about 20 looms. Visitors can witness over 150 years of weaving technology, from warp-weighted weaving devices to antique Lancashire looms, and even the latest state-of-the-art Dornier machines, which were custom-built for us in Lindau, Germany.

Left image: Stuart with his son, Dax, both wrapped in the Ikat cloth woven by Stuart. Right image: Stuart carefully hand-knotting the resist sections on the warp, preparing it for resist dyeing to weave an Ikat hanging.

Stu Holding’s original waistcoats and coats at the Old Nick Fabrics store in the 1980s, now the Mungo flagship store in Plettenberg Bay, South Africa..

Did your early life in the Yorkshire mills influence how Mungo operates today?

Absolutely. The Yorkshire textile mills where I grew up were my first inspiration. I admired how they co-existed with the natural environment, and I wanted to bring that same philosophy to Mungo. It created a self-sustaining community, with gardens, allotments, and vibrant local markets.

We’ve incorporated that spirit into the Mungo Mill at Old Nick Village. The Mungo Mill is a beautiful space, designed by Italian architect Andrea Christoforetti, and surrounded by koi ponds and lush gardens. We host a weekly market that supports local artisans and small-scale manufacturers. It’s a place where work and nature come together, much like the mills of my youth.

Vintage drawings and photographs of Old Nick Village. The original building is now home to Mungo’s flagship store in Plettenberg Bay..

How does Mungo stand apart in today’s fast fashion-driven textile industry?

What we’ve created at Mungo is quite different from the mass production of cloth we see today, especially with the rise of fast fashion. We focus on small-batch production of high-quality home textiles, made with intention and care for both the natural environment and the people who create them. Our process is slower and more thoughtful, but that’s how we ensure that every piece we make upholds our core values of sustainability, transparency, and respect for the craft.

Stu standing on the Keurboomstrand rocks overlooking the ocean.

How do you understand creativity?

As I get older, I find myself reflecting more on where I’ve come from and how it shapes who I am today. I always knew I wanted something different to the world my parents came from — something creative. To me, creativity isn’t just about artistic talent; it’s about living a life full of adventure. Whether it’s climbing the highest mountain or paddling down the longest river, it’s that spirit that defines a creative life to me.

The natural beauty of this place we live, with its dramatic landscapes, wild ocean and mountains, indigenous forests, and rich biodiversity, deeply connects me to the environment. There’s a rhythm to life here dictated by the seasons, tides, and changing light that influences my creative process in many ways. I’ve always known I didn’t fit into the corporate world where rigid structures and predefined paths often stifle creativity. Here, surrounded by nature, I found the freedom to express myself and explore alternative ways of doing business.

Watch the video below to learn about who we are.

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Antique looms and why we run them | An insider guide to the Chelsea Flower Show | In search of joy.

Talking Certifications.

The Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) is the world-leading standard for the production of organic textiles. It sets the bar high, with rigorous social and environmental criteria for each step of the supply chain – right from seed and soil, to the spun fibres and finished product. In 2020 we became South Africa’s first GOTS-certified company. An exacting and undoubtedly expensive process that involves annual auditing of each of our departments – but one which we stood behind in our pursuit of sustainable textile manufacturing.

On August 18th we were pleased to be part of the discussion around certification – as we hosted an open dialogue on our GOTS certification from our our Cape Town store on 78 Hout Street. The talk was held in connection with the 2023 Africa Textile Talks, and featured a conversation between Africa’s GOTS representative, Muktar Dodo and our designer, Lenore Schroeder – mediated by Twyg founder, Jackie May.

Timely and interesting conversations grew from the initial dialogue, as makers in the local textile and fashion industries discussed the role of organic fibres, as well as challenges to certification in their various sectors, and need for support and transparency.

Navigating the sea of ‘sustainable’ buzzwords can seem overwhelming in a world where real solutions are easily lost in a mix of clever marketing speak and greenwashing. That’s where certifications stand strong as beacons of credibility. In order to safeguard the health of our families and communities for the future, organic agriculture is essential, and although certification might involve very real and immediate cost to company, the longterm value is priceless.

Whilst we’re currently flying the GOTS flag on our own, we hope to positively impact the industry and the future of responsible design. Proving that there is a demand for organic textiles, and supporting a growing industry of innovators and change makers.

2023 Africa Textile Talks

The discussion was part of the full programme of the 2023 Africa Textile Talks, hosted by Twyg and Imiloa Collective. Organised between South Africa and Mauritius, the annual event offers a full day of inspiring talks and panel discussions focussed on, and celebrating, sustainability, environmentalism and circular solutions in the fashion, craft and textile industries. The talks offer a platform to spotlight textile innovation, whilst creating a space to address issues like the need for credible supply chains, industry support systems and intra-continental collaboration, the importance of circularity and transparency within the industry, and the role of certifications. The day provided a refreshing opportunity to network and to explore responsive solutions, as we look to reimagine Africa’s fashion and textile landscape amidst globally relevant issues.

2023’s line-up began with a presentation by Kenyan textile artist and creative director Sunny Dolat, who took the audience on a narrative journey of textiles from around the continent with this keynote talk entitled ‘African Textiles – Vessels of Memory, Identities and Heritage.’ Referencing iconic African cloths such as the east African Kanga, Malian Bogolan, the Kuba Cloth of the DRC, and the Ghanian Kente Cloth, he evoked the long and rich history of the textile making on the continent, recalling the power of cloth to communicate, commemorate and preserve intangible heritage. Amidst Sunny’s impressive body of work, his recent project for Documenta Fifteen, entitled Return to Sender, drew attention to the dumping of textile waste in Africa by the Global North. In a thought-provoking spotlight of the west’s the gross overconsumption and rampant appetite for textiles, Sunny redirected 144 bales of clothing waste from African countries back to Europe.

Sunny Dolat

Following was a panel discussion, moderated by Esethu Cenga of Rewoven Africa, between Krelyne Andrew from Sappi, Noreen Mwancha from Rethread Africa, Deon Saayman of Cape Wools SA and Carolina Li of DDI Mauritius. Noreen’s work as the co-founder of Rethread, a Kenyan biomaterial startup using agricultural waste for textile production, drew particular interest – with the company’s recent development of a fabric produced from pineapple fibre, a responsive textile innovation that sits alongside the need to improve and support local livelihoods, whilst improving land productivity and maintaining biodiversity. Krelyne’s talk highlighted Sappi’s release of an innovative new product – a renewable dissolving pulp product that can be used in a multiple sectors, including the textile industry.

Krelyne Andrew, Noreen Mwancha and Deon Saayman

Designer and founder of hand-woven mohair textile brand, Frances V.H Mohair, Frances van Hasselt, shared her design process and love for South Africa’s most prized natural fibre in an evocative talk entitled ‘Farm to Fibre: A Story from a Karoo Mohair Studio.’ Frances took us on a vivid and visceral journey through the rich and robust landscape of the semi-arid Karoo – where her studio is based and where she finds unending inspiration.

Lukhanyo Mdingi then presented a beautiful short film about the provenance of their cotton fabrics in Burkina Faso, followed by a panel discussion, moderated by Bielle Bellingham, on how design influences the future textile economy. On the panel were maker and textile artist, Tinyiko Makwakwa, Natalie Green of knitwear brand, INKE, and Merchants on Long fashion buyer, Sumendra Chetty. Conversations arose around the role of design – and the need to harness its power to rethink, reimagine and improve the world we live in. To design deliberately, to change the way we shop, and the importance of designing not only new products, but new behaviours.

Muktar Dodo

Yvette Tetteh of the Or Foundation was in person, joined by her colleagues Sammy Oteng and Kennie MacCarthy, who streamed in from Accra, Ghana. Their powerful presentation discussed the impact of waste colonialism, bringing into stark reality the effects of fast fashion, mass production and hyper consumption, and the toll it is taking on Ghana and the Global South. The talk spotlighted Accra’s Kantamanto market, one of the world’s largest secondhand clothing markets, where approximately 15 million garments arrive weekly – of which only a small percentage are suitable for resale, with about 40% ending up as waste.

In an inspiring feat, Yvette recently swam 450km of the Ghana’s Volta River, from Buipe to Ada, in a drive to raise awareness around the impact of textile pollution on the quality of water. Serving as part of her broader initiative known as the Agbetsi Living Water Swim, Yvette collected water and air samples, to research the presence of microfibres in the river, and call to light the effects of decades of exploitative global trade.

Tinyiko Makwakwa, Natalie Green, Bielle Bellingham and Sumendra Chetty

The day rounded off with a presentation from Tina Smith of the District Six Museum, whose talk brought to life the power of cloth as a tool to both document and heal. Head of Exhibitions at the museum, Tina’s discussion entitled ‘Memory and Cloth’ showcased the use of textiles as part of the museum’s methodology and aesthetic framework, becoming vessels to mediate the past and navigate identity. Tina was accompanied by Patience Watlington, Jean Pretorius and Sylvia Ganget, who presented their personal stories of being involved with the museum’s ‘Huis Kombuis Memory Project’ – a project that mobilises creativity to access memory and lend a reflexive lens to issues of loss, through the revival of home-based crafts like embroidery, sewing and appliqué work.

A big thank you to Twyg and the Africa Textile Talks for creating a platform to engage in forward-thinking dialogue, and to collaborate and connect. It felt both timely and refreshing to have had an open space to discuss, network and reimagine the future. We look forward to 2024’s talks!

All images kindly provided by Rizqah Dollie @thedolliehouse

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Katrin Coetzer is a Cape Town-based illustrator, who recently produced a series of illustrations for a new range of gift cards for our brick-and-mortar stores in South Africa. We talked to her about her work and artistic philosophy, her most compelling sources of inspiration, and her thoughts on our newest piece of workwear apparel, the Mungo Artist’s Apron.

Can you speak to your upbringing, and some of your early influences?

I was born in Cape Town, an only child to medical workers with creative skills. I had a happy childhood with lots of animals, many freedoms and artistic pursuits. Books, plants and animals were primary sources of exploration, fun and engagement in my childhood and I’ve carried it through to my work. My mother kept a notebook and markers in her handbag ready for me whenever I needed occupying.

Our family farm in Botswana had a formative influence on my spatial sense of who we are in the world. It was a strong contrast to busy urban life during the school holidays where we would do nothing but walk in the bush and quietly observe every living thing. I also had a very special art teacher aged 3 -12. Mavis Foale introduced the magic that can be brought from material limitations and affirmed my art making such that I really believed for the first time that art making could become a vocation.

Did you study art, or find your way to it naturally?

I studied Applied Art at Stellenbosch University and then a Postgrad in Illustration at the same institution. I loved it and might have kept at academics if practical work hadn’t taken over. The critical skills from theory and philosophy classes which felt useless as a twenty-year old starting out in graphic design turned out to be far reaching later in life. I know that art school isn’t for everybody but I’m the sort of worker who likes to know the “rules’ before I break them.

What does your studio look like?

My studio is a converted office in a Victorian house in Rondebosch Cape Town with a tiny view of Devil’s Peak. It has a bay window and a fireplace and it faces west, the wrong way for good light so I have many lamps and a heater. It is literally full of materials, paper, pigments, art and objects. I tend towards control and order in the work I produce but my studio is a chaotic compost heap of stuff. Erin Road is a hub of fruiting banana trees, private school moms in SUVs and a steady Malawian expat community.

Who (or what) is a major source of inspiration?

Colour and paper. My biggest creative compulsions are about colour. I feel as though I’m thinking about colour combinations or gradations of monotones all the time. I’ll mentally file ideas for colour themes and draw from those when a matching opportunity comes up in an image execution. I love paper. The way an unmarked piece is already a beautiful form in itself and the way in which every mark or manipulation to it leaves an obvious trace. I heard someone say recently that paper eats pigment and that is probably my favourite thing about it.

How would you describe your artistic philosophy or style?

I like to think my ambition for each image I create is to always hit an interesting midpoint between the perceived world and the inner dream world. Equal parts observation and imagination are good for most things I think…

My creative process has mostly two modes; one I call directive, in which the image is planned researched, plotted, rendered. In this mode the end result is pre-imagined and known. In the second mode which is essentially a flow state, I am at play and the images and constructions pour out from who knows where. I love both and they’re mostly complimentary.

Can you find a parallel here with your personal philosophy?

Yes, I’m always trying to understand and interpret existence. I watch, observe, interpret, then try and fail to make sense in creating tiny worlds.

What does your process look like?

My regular job is as a commercial freelance illustrator so the work begins with a client’s request and then I begin the process of visual problem solving, research and image production to match the client/art director’s need. When I’m making self-directed work I’ll refer to my notebooks and sketchbooks where I hoard unrealised visual and sculptural ideas. There are many. Both processes start in analog mode with scrap paper, a pencil and a huge curiosity about the world.

Can you talk through the illustrations you did for Mungo?

In the depth of winter we dream of summer! My inspiration was summer in my home town. Cape Town is nothing if not an outdoorsy town and the life here is always geared for a towel or a picnic blanket moment. I started drawing people in different scenarios with their Mungo towels and just kept going as my longing for a beach holiday grew. I wanted to include silence and talking, relaxation, joy and rest in the scenes. I used my favourite gouache pigments for a flat-painterly effect with opaque colours. Towels and blankets are a lovely subject matter towards creating characters absorbed in their pragmatisms and comforts.

What challenges did you face getting to where you are now? And how this impact your life and art?

With the expanding personal and public responsibilities as an adult in the world and more than anything as a parent and a partner; the major current challenge is always the battle for solitary time. Likely not all artists will agree with me but I tend to think of art as a selfish pursuit. Perhaps it’s selfless in the honesty and expression it requires, but certainly selfish in the time it demands of the artist to be alone, childlike and to show up for the work. I had a relatively easy way up in life with most of the privileges you could want. Working for yourself is a constant challenge of invention, trial and error. Self-reliance supported by art is hard and jointly supporting a family with it even more so. So I think it’s helped me recognise my selfishness and tempered it a little bit. The challenge of time also highlights the temporality of absolutely everything and so I am not precious about what I create although I can become overly sentimental thinking about the transience of people and place.

What else keeps you busy?

My growing kid keeps me very busy. Also cycling, walking, birdwatching, swimming, reading in bed, cooking, treasure hunting. I like to find pottery shards in the dirt near old dumps and printed skirts in Observatory’s vintage shops.

What are your thoughts on the Mungo Artist’s Apron?

I’m definitely the target audience for aprons, I wear my Mungo Artist’s Apron every working day. My German grandmother was an apron person and we gave her one each Christmas when she was alive. I aim to follow in her footsteps. An apron is a signifier of a hand-worker; it signals preparation and consideration. The Mungo Artist’s Apron is long and generous but it doesn’t swamp you. I’d never come across a linen apron before and I think it’s such a clever textile for this type of workwear. It’s somehow sturdy and soft at the same time. Kind of perfect.

Where do you see yourself going forward?

To sustain the thing I already do and to do more of it. In the post-pandemic, politically confusing world order, with mounting climate worries, I find my formerly reliable sense of ease has shifted. I hope to figure it out and be a bit kinder and calmer moving forward.

Illustrations by Katrin Coetzer @trini_prins. Photographs by Rebecca Meissner @becsmadevisible