peter

aking.wednesday.klein libertas.black suit.interviews.super water.mania on the grass.white out.

friday: cut glass

Halolight/abstracto/sonrotse/en so en so. Friday, stellenbosch, belville vs Parow. A night of glass eyes filling, being thrown against the stage, tossed on the warmwind crowd chasing winter away 'til later. Quad party. Wilgenhof. On fire. Thanks to the farmerwho'sreallyalover we (Inggs, Tecla, Murray) got in the back way, through the aloe plantation, by way of a museum (?). But yes, we did work. Reviews to follow [in respective publications].

belville vs parow

satanic mills

blake/peake/dante/escher/darksatanicmills/neonbibles/blackdoorstriplights/descendingstair/gormenghast/fate/ assignmentsduringvac/circles/sleep/end.

wednesday/posts below

Slashdogs/Fokofpolisiekar. Left around 8pm from Cape Town, detour through the hinterland of Bothasig to deliver some pictures to a vampiric band, got to Klein Libertas round 9pm and headed straight for the bar. Talk/talk no pouring of drinks. Ice-

eyes to the sea crowd. 

Quite transcendental shooting Fokof: half conscious of what's happening around you, half focused through the lens, dodging firework shower of burning cigarettes, water, beer, stagedivers etc. 

Obsession with religious iconography starting to affect my perspective. Jesus. Dylan Thomas. Rock Room later. Me, Tecla and Murray, newfound party boy. Ons longe ingeasem. Got home at 5am. Morning star/Tafelberg. 

FOKOFPOLISIEKAR

Beyond the boundary of hills aglow with neon crosses, along the N1 highway: a road travelled before, and before, and now, again, our heads against the car window - “koppe kap teen die ruit van die kar/en ons sigarette aan” – anthems for youth once burning with energy, now seemingly fated to apathy, playing on scratched CDs; sunlight swallowed by thunderheads and overhead the dry rain of falling oak leaves; with them we spiral to Stellenbosch to see the idealist bands of past summers.

Youth: how important it has become. Has this become a generation that only trusts themselves; their contemporaries? “Net die jonk glo soos wat net die jonk van hart kan glo”.

A vacuum of complete stillness, where we scream and rage and fight against nothing, against silence, into silence, or perhaps just against ourselves.

Iconography: the visual images, symbols, or modes of representation collectively associated with a person, cult, or movement. Neon crosses on the hillside, cigarette stars, halo-headed Van Coke.

It's incredibly difficult to take an original picture of Fokofpolisiekar. I had an idea (as well as a lot of vodka) in my head and so..mind-eye co-ordination, despite a swirling night. Messiahs, doemprofete and such.

And yet, still tonight, we will forget, perhaps for a moment, and lose ourselves in the past, in being young, to rock, to roll beneath the lights and the crosses in the sky… For now we follow the stars: lights in the sky, people on the stage, silver in our minds, not knowing what we’re following or where we’re headed in the vast, dim world of understanding.

[passages from Anticipating The Second Coming article in Blacklight magazine]

DHF

Revelry. Starting on a Tuesday night tends to leave the rest of the week a little woozy; a little under milkwood. Bible black en so en so..

gereeld te hoog gelig|vroumens ons moet vlug

Check out the interview with Die Heuwels Fantasties on spinearth.tv. A backroom practice, northern lights, crosses in the sky.