Then & Now: Lynn Acutt’s photography shop
Saturday, February 20 2021
LYNN Acutt was one of the most prominent professional photographers in Natal.
A scion of the Acutt family, his grandfather arrived in Durban in 1850. After 11 years in the motoring industry, Acutt decided to pursue his love of photography.
In 1928 he embarked on his new venture which quickly prospered and in the early 1930s moved to premises at 343 West Street. He also had a
large studio at 22 Convent Lane which housed the advertising and postcard sections.
In the old photograph dated 1934, Acutt’s West Street shop can be seen with two other old Durban businesses: just in picture on the left is Adams Booksellers, and on the right, JF King Ltd (Kings), the gunsmiths and sporting shop.
The recent photograph, taken from further back, shows the venerable Adams still in its landmark shop. The Acutts and Kings premises
are today a single store occupied by Clicks.
From the 1930s to the 1960s, the Local History Museum purchased a large number of Acutt’s photographs and, being professionally taken, the quality is superb.
Although the city purchased many photographs from other sources and has received countless donations, those by Acutt form a key segment of the museum’s collection, although they only represent a small selection of his work.
Apart from commercial work (photographs of factories, offices, weddings, funerals, accident scenes and models for adverts), Acutt was was also an official photographer for The Natal Mercury and African Film Productions Ltd.
He also went on long expeditions around South Africa and to Mozambique. His car was specially altered for his requirements, which included a roof adapted as a portable platform.
The 1934 photograph is the only close-up of Acutt’s shop, and it was once framed and hung in the shop.
After he moved across the road to Embassy House (326 West Street), Kings took over Acutt’s shop.
During later alterations to Kings, the photo was about to be thrown out but was saved by one of the contractors. Without its glass, thick dust damaged the photograph.
It will now be donated to the Local History Museum to join the many companion photographs from Lynn Acutt’s studio.
WHEN people look into what they should do as a side hustle to earn extra income, they often seek what’s trendy and that’s usually something that’s online, to do with e-commerce or drop shipping.
“I urge them to ignore that and pivot towards their skills set for a market that exists, whether it be walking dogs or teaching swimming,” Nic Haralambous, author of the newly-released book Start a Side Hustle: A Playbook for a New Economy, told the Independent on Saturday.
While singing the praises of the internet for the access it gives to distant markets, he cautioned people to ignore information Google offered about ideas for side hustles because, on the day, many other people will be acting on that advice and flooding the market.
As an “obsessive entrepreneur” for the past 20 years, Haralambous also stressed that side hustles should aim to be just that, supplementing one’s income, rather than vehicles to make billions.
Haralambous recommended that people starting a side hustle aim to make about R3 000 a month to supplement a salary and offer a more sustainable life.
While it requires mental adjustment and commitment, costing time normally spent on activities such as seeing friends and family over weekends, he pointed out that people needed to debunk the myth that one needs to “suffer” to build something sustainable.
Turning to companies that employ people with side hustles, Haralambous said, depending on the generation in which they were born, they either take a hard stand on not allowing side hustles or, like younger companies, recognise that it could make employers want to stay with them and work harder.
Haralambous said the economy, which could expect 20 brutal years ahead because of state capture and deep-seated corruption in South Africa, needed small business to enable more people to have more money to stimulate the economy.
Launched off the back of his book, Haralambous has started an initiative for those wishing to start a side hustle, through the site https:// www.slowhustle.org/
His book is published by Tafelberg and retails for R192.
THEN, suddenly, nothing happened.
Monty Python’s “nothing happened” from Flying Circus and And Now For Something Completely Different is one of the gang’s finest works of art in a body packed with genius.
From some quick memory-refreshing research, and Python fans who know every line can yell at me if this is not 100% accurate, it seems “Then, suddenly” was an import.
Nowadays, suddenly nothing happening is like being in a Zen state. Just about every day, then suddenly nothing happening would bring delight and joy to millions of people.
The car alternator didn’t suddenly crack and stop working. The grass-cutter thingy didn’t suddenly run out of nylon. Load shedding did not suddenly power itself up again. The wi-fi did not “suddenly nothing happened” when you tried to connect it.
Covid suddenly didn’t happen more suddenly than it did. And the suddenly available vaccines actually were, to everyone.
Suddenly Covid happening has added another certainty that goes with “death and taxes” – change.
It’s inevitable for everyone and all things, and one has to learn to roll with it, grasp it or get trampled by it.
It can be difficult or exciting. There’s so much of it it can be overwhelming, and lead to mental health problems.
Suddenly nothing happening means routine. Some call it a rut. But routine exists for a reason: it works.
Take a family getting ready in the morning for school and work and shopping and cooking and cleaning and all those other daily happenings.
The routine ensures things move apace, with the least disruption. No one loses a shoe/shirt. Homework, car keys and cellphones are where they were left.
Uniforms and work clothes have been washed and ironed, and sweatfree gym bags are packed and ready to go.
Aaaah, the joys of a rut where suddenly nothing happens.
When suddenly nothing happens, no one falls victim to the desperation felt on the couch this week.
Put it down to heat stroke. In spite of a nest of five fans around the sofa and four around the bed, and the two in the kitchen, the February heat was just swishing around in sweat.
Some online searching revealed a mist fan on special and, dragging my son along as muscle to carry said fan, we headed into the heat.
Even the store aircon didn’t provide relief, but the misty fan on display did if you got within 6cm of it.
However, the shelves were empty – clearly others had seen the special first and they were all gone, bar the ones with fancy names and even fancier price tags.
While sheltering in the wonderful gale of another massive fan, we searched for alternatives.
One was the industrial fan I was nestled against and there was one other on a pallet, both the sole survivors of the cold rush.
We wove them into the nests. Lesson learnt: in a busy superstore with folk bustling and PA systems buzzing, other sounds are muted. My two precious purchases make the same noise as a helicopter. A little one, but with big, noisy rotors.
I’m cool with that, though. Now the neighbours can listen to our TV and ear plugs are the order of the night.
At least I can’t hear when suddenly nothing happens.