community reflections

Let me start from the beginning. How can I say this? Luckily, I didn’t have to learn how to do art. It came naturally, from the root.  By that I mean, it was in me when I was born. Whatever I saw, I could draw it, even when I was very young.  Cars, people, whatever I saw around me I would draw. Even now, just lying on my bed, if I imagine something, if an image comes into my mind, I can draw it.

My parents are from Peddie but I was born in Gqeberha (then Port Elizabeth) in 1983. Because of forced removals during apartheid, my family of six was moved from Port Elizabeth to Mdantsane, 15 kilometres outside East London, and I grew up and went to school there. When I was about twenty-one years old, after high school, I went to Mdantsane Art Centre in East London. It was very broad, covering drama, film and art. In art, the courses were mostly practical; they didn’t teach any art theory. I learned some good skills. However, I didn’t like the attitude of the teachers. It was as if they didn’t want to do anything in depth. I’m a fast learner. Sorry to say it. But it’s true. I wanted to learn new things. I was desperate for inspiring art classes. Also, at that time I was still young. I didn’t have anyone to show me the lanes—you know, someone to motivate me. It was only myself. And it was hard to inspire myself. It was a difficult time.

So, I left Mdantsane Art Centre in 2012. I saved up money and eventually I found a college called African Culture in Cambridge Street, East London. I registered there for a three-month art course. I learned some new skills like wire work but then one day, after I’d been there for two months, I arrived one morning for classes and the doors were closed. They were not just closed but locked. Locked! I couldn’t believe it. They had just shut down the college without telling us. Many of us were affected by this scam. There were students who had come all the way from places like Butterworth and who had had to pay for accommodation and so on as they were far from home.  We had all paid for registration already and we had paid fees up front for the courses we had chosen. Some people had paid for twelve months already. It was a big loss for all of us. Not one person got a certificate.

I heard later that the college had moved to Joburg. Yoh, I was so disappointed. It had all been for nothing. I really felt for the other students who had lost a lot of money.

After this, I became very depressed and unsure about my future. I decided East London was not a place where I belonged; city life wasn’t for me. I needed a change. So, I went back home to Peddie, to my parents’ house.

Growing up, I knew Cebo Mvubu from Peddie, and he knew me.  I knew his family and he knew mine. He was my mentor, if you know what I mean. When he came back to Peddie, he would tell me all about Keiskamma Art Project in Hamburg and about everything he was doing there. He showed me the beautiful artworks they were making in the studio. In this way, he sparked my interest in Keiskamma. Sometimes he invited me to go to his art college in East London, where he was studying at that time. Anyway, when African Culture closed its doors and I came home to Peddie—I think it was my second day back at home—Cebo said, ‘Siya, if you want to join us at Keiskamma Art Project, you are welcome. ‘

I said, ‘What?’

He said, ‘Yes, brother, you are welcome.’

Yoh! I packed my bags and I went straight to Bodiam, to Cebo’s house. Then I went with Cebo to Hamburg, to the art studio there. That day, a Tuesday if I remember thoroughly, everybody was looking at me—this new guy who wasn’t from the area. They gave me a practical in wire work to see what I knew. I had to make a doll. I knew how to work with wire so I did it well. Imagine this! I passed! Then they said I must come back the next day. I said, ‘No problem.’ (I had to walk all the way from Bodiam to Hamburg, up and down. It was a long way but I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity!) As I said, the first exam, I passed. The next day they gave me another exam. I passed that too. On the Thursday they said, ‘Okay, Siya, we are on target. We are making these flowers out of wire and felt. Can you do this?’ I went there and got myself busy. Yoh, it was nice to make art again, I’m telling you.

There was a guy there, a Rasta by the name of Shylock Khoza. I think he was the boyfriend of the late Nomfusi Nkani, who was a very talented artist working at Keiskamma Art Project. He says to me, ‘Bra, you know mos how to do these things!’

I said, ‘Yes, I’m a fast learner somehow.’ We laughed.

I’ve learned many new skills since I’ve been with the Project. In the early days there were a lot of workshops, teaching us different art techniques. It was very inspiring. Before long, Keiskamma felt like my family. It was as if I was born there.

Ever since that day in 2014 I’ve been the person doing wire work at Keiskamma Art Project. But it’s not only wire work that I do. As you know, the medium of our work is mostly embroidery. Luckily, my grandmother had already taught me how to sew to mend my clothes, so because of my grandmother I already knew some stitches. But through the workshops I learned how to do new stitches, and then I came up with my own stitches too.

As an artist, I have taken a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. When we get a commission, I explain the concept or the story to the embroiderers. Then I have to do the illustrations, and choose the colours and the stitches for the different parts of the artwork. It’s difficult driving the process but I try my best. Recently we did a big commission for Amazon.  I had to take it on my shoulders and we did it. I couldn’t believe it when, finally, it was done! It was a great feeling.

As an artist, I’ve got my own ideas, to make the studio full of different things. But because I belong to Keiskamma, I can’t just do my own thing. We are a collective. Sometimes that is challenging for me. Moving from a township to a small village has also brought challenges. But what I have learned is that things are changing here. Before, Cebo and I were the only men on the Project, but now other men are joining.

What I’ve learned, is that Keiskamma Art Project is my second family. I’m one Siya at home—a man, a father, my parents’ firstborn—but the moment I go to the studio, to my Keiskamma family, I change. I become different. I come out of my one home, and I go to my second home. In my second home I need to help the embroiderers; to understand their problems, and make them mine. I encourage people to share any negative thoughts or feelings. We also laugh together. But at the end of the day, I also have to say, ‘Guys, we are here to work.’

I would never choose to go back to where I was before. I was nowhere. Now I’m somewhere. I’ve learned a lot of things, about art and about life, from Keiskamma Art Project.  For that I will always be grateful.