For most of my life, art wasn’t just a hobby—it was my entire being. From an early age, I knew I was born to create. I won my first national art competition in South Africa at the age of five, and throughout my childhood and adolescence, art remained my calling. I was awarded scholarships, exhibited internationally, and believed wholeheartedly that my future was in art.
But life took me in a different direction. For two decades, I poured my creativity into design and advertising work. While it was fulfilling in its own way, something was always missing. As luck would have it, we moved to an island where, according to our permit, I wasn’t allowed to work. My husband’s businesses were doing well, and for the first time, we could afford for me not to work. It was amazing—I didn’t have to sit behind a computer, pushing lines around on a screen by fractions of a millimeter. I was free to explore, be loose and playful with my art.
Then COVID struck, and we lost everything. We were forced to move back to our home country. I felt stripped down to my core, and it hit me: all I had left was my art. It was the one thing I was born to do. It’s as if I had spent years trying to be someone I wasn’t—asking a dog to act like a hamster. I could no longer deny my creative soul.
Even after years of formal education, awards, and exhibitions, doubts persisted. Was I good enough? Had I imagined my talent? Could I really sustain myself financially through my art? These questions still linger, but I realise now that they’re part of every artist’s journey. It’s not just about talent—it’s about having the courage to show up every day and create.
I’ve learned that art isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. It has the power to tell stories, connect people, and reflect the times we live in. The women in my Shuna, Assile, and Bamako series are a reflection of this realisation. Their strength, their stories, remind me that art is a contribution to the collective human experience. And now, as I embark on this new chapter, I know that pursuing my art is not a choice—it’s who I am.
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