The SA creatives to watch

Meet the local creatives Making waves

‘my parents encouraged me to draw and paint. They’d often buy my sister and I the tools and supplies we needed. I put my love for these activities on hold for many years to focus on other things, such as chess, breakdancing and baking. When I was in matric, I applied to medical and business school but was rejected by both. A friend encouraged me to apply to design school because she believed I had a natural ability for drawing, based on a dog-eared, black book I’d filled with graffiti. I gave it a shot, working hard towards developing my own style and learning as much as I could about fine art and graphic design. Needless to say, I’m happy she encouraged me.’

Tladi says that while having creative freedom is a bonus, inspiring other people is the most important aspect of his career. ‘Entertaining and educating people with art is an incredible feeling.’ But what exactly is his definition of art?

‘I think it’s great to find new images in an existing artwork and for it to keep your mind occupied whenever you look at it. But I don’t think that’s exactly what art is. Many artists draw or paint straightforward content. For example, a portrait is just that: a portrait. You won’t find something new in it every time you engage with it, but it can make you feel different. For me, that’s more important than creating a busy artwork that doesn’t move you at all.’

I ask him whether he believes creativity is human nature something that should be learned or nurtured?

‘I believe some people are more creative than others, thanks to how we define creativity.’ He adds: ‘If you can draw or sculpt that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re creative. Those are just skills that can be taught, learned, and refined through practice and repetition. Engineers, businessmen, scientists and chefs can be creative. It might be a different kind of creativity, but it can still be considered as such. Skills can be taught, but creativity? Not so much.’

I ask Tladi what motivates him. He says it’s experimenting with different mediums and working on new themes. ‘I express myself best through art. It feels like I’m pouring out all my emotions and making the pen bleed ink when

I hold it. It also genuinely makes me happy. I wake up and look forward to it, and I go to bed feeling sad that the day’s over and I can’t create anymore. In reality, I need to pay my bills and build a foundation for my future, right? It’s crunch time now that I’m in my 20s. Last year I moved to Japan where I’ve been living ever since. I needed a new start, to learn a new language and play in a different pool. I hope to stay here for a while, as it’s making a difference to my latest work.’

As his work is an extension of his imagination and thoughts, he finds it challenging to determine when a piece is finished. ‘I usually base it on a gut feeling, which sounds ridiculous, but that’s honestly what it is. As an artist, you need to ask yourself whether what you’ve created will get your desired message across or not. If it’ll evoke an emotion in its viewer(s), if it’s ready to be presented to a potential new owner and if you’d hang it on your wall. As creators, we all have a personal set of questions we ask ourselves to help us determine if an artwork is complete. Our hunch is usually right.’

Over the last three years, love, religion, nature, astrology and geometry have been major themes in his work. Since last year, he’s been focusing on these, along with African art, history and mythology. While he wouldn’t say his work conveys specific emotions, he’ll admit that due to its detailed nature, it often contains hidden messages or meanings.

As to what his artworks have taught him about himself – besides patience and perseverance – it’s ‘how to focus in a world of distractions, be disciplined and hungry for improvement, keep believing in yourself and make the small things count. The little details make all the difference.’

“It’s all in the details” is the phrase that best describes artist and illustrator Lebo Tladi, who creates ingenious, hand-drawn artworks to inspire you and spark your imagination. Many prestigious galleries have displayed his work, and he’s always been imaginative. Surprisingly, becoming an artist was never his intention.

Architectural designer Lubabalo Zondani believes architects must improve peoples’ lives and the environment. ‘We can do this by developing adaptable, low-tech construction methods for projects that have budget restrictions or lack resources, such as schools, temples, housing or community centres,’ he says. Zondani’s proudest achievement is working on the Accelerated School Infrastructure Development Initiative (ASIDI), a project to rebuild 50 rural schools in the Eastern Cape. ‘These developments promote social inclusion and offer a secure environment to children,’ he adds. In the long term, he wants to make a significant difference to the environmental and human impact of SA’S buildings.

GQ: what informs your approach to architecture? Lubabalo Zondani: One of the first lessons or principles we learn as students is that form follows function. The idea was developed by American architect

Louis Sullivan who’s known as the “Father of Skyscrapers” and mentored the legendary Frank Lloyd Wright. My simple understanding of this statement is that whatever you design, how it looks should come second. The main priority and objective is its function: what and who is the building or structure for? If you resolve and nail that, everything else falls into place. Many aspects are considered when responding to this statement. From concept (plan or intention), technology (materials used), context (the site and surroundings), right up to the final product, when the building’s fully resolved – which it never really is. Ultimately, it means translating the non-physical design problem into the physical building product.

I strongly believe designs should fit in with nature, rather than force nature to make way for manmade buildings. Buildings should form part of the landscape as opposed to sticking out like a sore thumb. Clients are as integral to the brief as the topography of the plot or site. Although the architect Frank Gehry once said,‘i don’t know why people hire architects only to tell them what to do.’ I don’t want a client to hold my hand and make me draw, but I do want and need them to be a part of the process.

GQ: what's your signature style?

LZ: Far more important than style and making buildings look pretty is the rich process of conceiving and developing good design solutions. Buildings should be sustainable and have a sense of identity in the landscape. I gravitate towards vernacular architecture, characterised by its reliance on needs, construction materials and traditions specific to its particular locality. It’s a type of architecture that’s indigenous to a specific time and place, as opposed to being replicated from elsewhere. Historically, vernacular architecture has incorporated the skills and expertise of local builders instead of formally-trained architects.

GQ: how do you overcome challenges?

LZ: There’ll always be issues: the argument for good design over cheap construction, difficult clients or contractors, deadlines and even politics. But two nuggets of advice I can offer when it comes to resolving any issue is to allow others to express themselves. Whether you’re at the office among colleagues or with a client or contractor, allow others to voice their opinions. Listen carefully and make judgments from there. Secondly, invite multiple viewpoints. Ask people to go beyond the “I love it” reaction many architects want to hear. Don’t ask if they like it; ask if it solves their needs or addresses their requirements. Get past your initial frustration with your client, and it’ll challenge you to come up with good ideas.

GQ: Your favourite project?

LZ: Going to Afrikaburn in Tankwa Town. It was magical, life-changing, enlightening, challenging, and a physically and emotionally overwhelming experience. I met a lovely artist, Carmel Ives, who I collaborated with on a build, “Pipe Dreams”. In this case, build refers to artistic, creative, wooden structures made of recycled materials, which are set alight, surrounded by thousands of people on spiritual journeys. I decided to work with Ives again on an art piece featured at this year’s Afrikaburn, which the committee loved. We designed a shell-shaped structure filled with sound-generating objects using wind, water, steam and fire. It was called “Gaia’s song” after the Greek goddess who’s the personification of Mother Earth.

GQ: how has tech disrupted the architectural space?

LZ: In the realm of architectural design, the only thing that seems to develop faster than hardware is software. On top of new updates to ubiquitous applications, such as

Revit, Vectorworks, AUTOCAD and Archicad, there’s been an increase in the number of mobile apps for architects, including tools for measuring, drawing, projectmanaging and sparking inspiration. It’s common knowledge that Building Information Modelling (BIM) is now a staple part of the construction industry, and an architect that hasn’t adopted it yet must get to grips with the technology.

GQ: what does the future hold for architecture?

LZ: It’ll never die because people will always need shelter. Sustainability holds the key to an environmentally positive future. We need to protect our environment and climate by living economically and using energy efficiently. The line between public and private space is becoming increasingly thin and blurred. We must make room for quality, eco-friendly spaces. The worlds of 3D design, virtual reality

(VR) and engineering have accelerated at an incredible pace, and there’s been serious forward-thinking. Homelessness needs to be eradicated. We need more “green” buildings and environments with positive impacts on human health, environmental quality, social relationships and urban systems. New methods are being tested. For example, you could work in a tower made of wood or mud in the future because rammed earth – a mud mixture used in rural South Africa to construct houses – is tipped to be the material of the future. »

Seagram Pearce’s passion for photography can be traced back to his childhood. When he was seven, he travelled overseas with his mom. ‘We had a Pentax SLR given to us by my favourite uncle, Jon. I remember trying to take a photograph on a busy street in London and realising that for it to turn out well, it was all about timing.’ Photography became his hobby, and it really took off when he was gifted a digital camera in matric. ‘Having gotten the travel bug at an early age, I was perpetually riddled with the itch to explore. Seeing some of the most spectacularly beautiful places on earth unleashes a new level of creative juices in me.’ Whether it’s in the remote depths of the Desert of Hami in China or in Spain’s older cities, Pearce’s life is a grand adventure. GQ: what inspires your approach to photography?

Seagram Pearce: I’d like to think my approach is to make things as simple as possible. I have an unhealthy obsession with light, which is what gives photography its form and essence. I’m constantly “light watching”, wherever I go. My visual tastes are inspired by so many styles or genres that I’d never be able to match myself to one in particular. Yet, for every frame I’ve ever taken, I’ve always made lighting a priority.

GQ: what’s your signature style?

SP: Dramatic lighting, if possible. Mood and atmosphere, if I can create it. The more soul I can capture in a scene, the lighting or a person, the better.

GQ: what type of projects do you gravitate towards and why?

SP: I love both the automotive genre and photographing people. I can’t just shoot one type without desperately needing to create the other. Throw in a plane ticket – the more remote the destination, the better – and I’m all over that project like Family Guy’s Peter Griffin in a flashback montage.

GQ: who or what have you enjoyed shooting and why?

SP: I’ve had the privilege of taking portraits of some incredible people. I’ve also spent a fair amount of time with some of the greatest cars on earth. I thoroughly enjoy everything I shoot. If I had to think of something I shot recently, it’d be putting two Pagani supercars together: the Pagani Huayra from the Transformers movie and the Zonda S. It was beautiful to see the design changes Pagani have made in such a short space of time. That Huayra was also going straight from South Africa back to the official Pagani Museum, which meant I wouldn’t get another opportunity to shoot it again. Rare opportunities like that are incredible.

GQ: Your work’s emotive. what's your thought process behind capturing a moment?

SP: Having talented models and actors helps because you can give them great scenarios to play out, taking them through the emotive process. I need to hang in that moment with them for the split second I need to create a frame. I think of my style of light as emotive too. The visual mood is created with ambience,

which can’t exist without light. Finding the best time of day to shoot at makes all the difference.

GQ: what story do you want your photography to tell?

SP: The only way I can tell a story is through my personal photography. Commercial work is too brief. It has a story, but it’s singular to that of the client or product. Yet personal work, for me, is about people. That’s why I love photographing portraits. During a decade of shooting, I’ve started so many different portrait series on a range of people. I’ll only share a fraction of these series with other people. The rest of them stay with me until I feel like I’ve got enough faces to complete that series. I often joke that only once I kick the bucket and my agent’s going through my archives, will he find all these series I’ve been shooting my entire life, because I’ve never shared them with anyone. He’ll curate them and host a gallery exhibition in my memory. All the stories in those series will finally be told. That’s the poetic tragedy of photography, I think.

GQ: who else would you like to work with in the future?

SP: It’s a bit of an odd one, but I’d love to take Elon Musk’s portrait. I’d love to do something, extravagant, such as the portrait sessions GQ does for a cover and cover story. I’d have Elon in a spacesuit in the middle of the desert, or standing inside one of his Falcon Heavy rockets... Also, Morgan Freeman. Just to hear Morgan Freeman say any sentence to me with my name in it would give me my movie-narration moment. That’d be a bucket-list experience ticked off. Also, Morgan Freeman has such an incredibly interesting face. How I’d love to sculpt it with light.

GQ: what’s next for photography?

SP: It’ll never go away completely. Just like any art form that’s ever existed throughout history, it can still be done by anyone who chooses to. There’ll always be a huge part of the global population that’ll want to experience the visual medium. The future’s wildly unseeable, but one constant will remain: we, craftsmen of light, creating our beauty for the world. »

Filling spaces with shapes that connect observers to the raw essence of humanity, Robin Kutinyu’s work reminds us that we’re carved from the same spirit, bound to the divinity and sentience of the natural world.

‘My father was an acclaimed sculptor who specialised in wildlife and was also an oil painter. I began sculpting at the age of five, doing rhinos and finishing my father’s pieces. Having honed my skills, I sold my first collection of sculptures when I was 10: birds and turtles. Ever since then, I’ve been obsessed with animals, the human figure and sculpture, and the movement and anatomy of animals and humans.

‘Another characteristic I got from my father was to excel in everything

I did as if I were born to do it. Having this attitude will help you advance to the next stage of your evolution. Always put in 100%, and you can’t go wrong.’

Kutinyu’s been in

South Africa for 17 years. I ask him if his birthplace, Zimbabwe, influences his work. ‘It’s not that

I’ve detached from my roots, but I’ve always seen myself as a more rounded, universal artist with a zest for evolution and individual identity.

I’m influenced by the world, not just where I came from.’

With his work, Kutinyu attempts to capture the essence of his subjects and immortalise a specific moment. ‘My work’s about the soul of my subject, not just it’s outer form worked to perfection. I’ve made my way from understanding my material and the possibilities this gives me to turn an abstract idea into an image or a concept.’

He finds capturing human movement challenging because it’s so varied. Studying the likes of master sculptors Donatello, Bernini and Rodin, Kutinyu discovered the different forms the human body can be presented in. Choosing the right expression and media for an idea is what sets his work apart.

If someone were to sculpt him, how would he like them to capture his soul? ‘That’d be difficult,’ he replies. ‘I have multiple personalities, which means I’m one thing today, but tomorrow I might be something else. I’d want them to capture every single part of me – artists make the worst subjects for this reason.

If I had my sculpture long enough, I’d want to change it.

‘For me, it’s important to evolve, and for my work to maintain a sense of being new. It must be relevant enough to attract an audience. You either

Robin Kutinyu is a stone and metal sculptor who has an international reputation and an impressive portfolio that covers a variety of styles and materials. He’s best-known for his humanoid figures, African equine animals and endangered species.

evolve or stagnate, which is why I challenge myself to be innovative and maintain my creativity.

I think humans are creative by nature, but they can also be nurtured. You can’t learn true creativity because it’s intrinsic. It’s what drives you to be innovative, enables you to produce magic, and it’s what gives you your signature style. That, to me, can’t be learned. It can only be nurtured by a master or, in some cases, it can be self-taught.’

When a sculpture’s born, it’s usually given a title, which in many cases is significant. But it’s not as linear for Kutinyu. ‘My process of naming my sculptures is bizarre.

I’ll only come up with a name during the final stages. Not only is it the last thing I do, but it’s also the most difficult.

It’s more the energy of a piece that brings it to life than its name. The most significant prerequisite for my work is that it has to radiate life.’

He maintains his creativity by working on multiple projects at the same time and draws inspiration from a range of sources. ‘A sculpture might develop from an idea that forms in my mind. A certain texture may create an image or I might travel thousands of kilometres to stumble upon an unexplored quarry. I’ll wander around in it, listening to the stone, calling out to me to be worked on. Quite often, I see a complete sculpture in nature. It could be a rock formation, as an example. There’s never a shortage of ideas but the problem is finding the time to execute them all. Unfortunately, you can’t do everything you want to in a lifetime.

‘Through my work, I hope to preserve wildlife, which is sadly vanishing by the day. I’d like to, at least, have my work studied hundreds, if not thousands, of years after I’ve gone. Most of all, I want to leave behind the legacy of my family name.’