Interlude Chapter 40 | How Referencing and Citation Forms The Backbone Of Fashion Design

Aug 1, 2025 | Fashion, Interlude

Fashion is rarely born in a vacuum; instead, it loops back to other places, other bodies, and other times. Acknowledging that almost every silhouette, textile, or stitch tells a story that’s been told before, in part, is not a failure of originality but a feature of the form. Fashion, like language, is built on memory, and it is shaped by cultural lineage and personal nostalgia, collective dreams and historical trauma. In this way, garments are layered expressions that leverage technical materiality to pursue the past, as it bleeds into the present. 

To understand this, we need to talk about referencing; and this is precisely what this ‘fashion nerd’ edition of Interlude entails. Can you believe it’s been 40 Chapters? I certainly can’t. In design, “referencing” is not a dirty word – it’s a form of communication, and a way of positioning oneself in relation to what has come before. From Margiela’s ghosts to Thebe Magugu’s storytelling textiles, the act of citing or sampling a past idea is deliberate and profound, and to me, it’s what makes fashion an art-form rather than merely a commercial pursuit. 

A fashion reference is a deliberate nod to something pre-existing – a garment, silhouette, motif, designer, era, or cultural moment. It can take the form of direct citation (a near replica), loose inspiration (a mood or aesthetic), or abstract sampling (a deconstructed trace). Referencing, citation, and sampling function much like they do in music, literature, or art. Think of how a track might loop a sample from an old soul record, or how a filmmaker might mimic their favourite director’s signature camera angles; such gestures are a signal: ‘I’ve seen this before, and I’m showing it to you again, through my eyes.’ Equally, they speak to the creators own reservoir of cultural curiosity; the things they have amassed, personally, to inform their work. 

Black Hat Bandits for Thebe Magugu’s SS22’s DOUBLETHINK Menswear project, photographed by Kristin-Lee Moolman and Styled by Chloe Andrea Welgemoed, via @thebemagugu IG

Kate Moss for Comme des Garçons, photographed by Juergen Teller, via @commedesgarcons_archives IG

Importantly, referencing is not the same as copying. Whereas copying is mindless mimicry (hello, Shein…), referencing is contextual and intentional. It asks: what does this thing mean now, in this time, through this lens? At its best, referencing introduces a past idea into a new conversation, allowing it to evolve. It also speaks to a broader cultural condition, as fashion is a collective aesthetic vocabulary – built over time, across borders, and through our shared memory. In this sense, every designer is in dialogue with an archive, whether consciously or not. Referencing makes that dialogue visible, and gives us the tools to read fashion as the designer’s attempt to make-meaning and tell stories. 

To train your eye for fashion references is important ; the more you look, the more that you see where it’s coming from. Silhouettes are a good place to start; is there a wasp-waist and full skirt reminiscent of Dior’s New Look? A boxy, oversized jacket nodding to 80s power dressing? Look at fabrics – is that raw denim a callback to Japanese and Americana workwear traditions? Then there are styling cues: socks with heels (a Prada classic), exposed seams (a Margiela signature), or even hair and makeup that recall a particular decade or subculture (Pat McGrath, we see you!). To truly see these cues is to become fluent in fashion’s grammar and over time, your eye and language sharpens. 

South Africa’s most cerebral and referentially fluent designer, Thebe Magugu, references the past with a specific kind of urgency. The archive is immense, so I’ll only make mention of a few. In his SS21 collection Counter Intelligence, Magugu engaged his work with political memory; drawing from interviews with female apartheid-era spies and the confessional accounts found in Jonathan Ancer’s book Betrayal – The Secret Life Of Apartheid Spies. The collection treated clothing as both documentation and disguise, and these references recontextualised through the lens of South Africa’s complex history, offering fashion as both archive and interrogation. Magugu’s work shows that referencing can function as a mechanism of truth-telling, especially in postcolonial contexts.

In Home Economics and African Studies, Thebe again turns personal and political memory into design. The angel-sleeved neoprene dress, printed with an image of women clinging to one another, is a cry against South Africa’s quiet but persistent war on women. Here, referencing becomes a way to critique cultural expectation and reclaim agency, pulling from everything from household imagery to domestic textiles. In African Studies, Magugu references childhood motifs and matriarchal habits as a way to claim a deeper authorship of African identity. These designs push back against the extractive gaze of Western fashion systems, offering instead an intimate, self-determined portrayal of what Africa looks and feels like when rendered by someone who lives it. This level of referencing, intersectional and deeply political, has exalted Thebe Magugu to the level of a cultural historian and sartorial theorist. 

At Dior, JW Anderson’s recent menswear debut was thick with layered references; some national, others archival. It is a terribly rattling thing to step into a house as storied as Dior, and be expected to both offer something new and entirely one’s own; while respecting the legacy of the house itself. One of the most poignant signs that Anderson is finding his feet, firmly so, was his use of Irish Donegal tweed to reinterpret the iconic Bar jacket, originally introduced by Christian Dior in 1947 as part of the “New Look.” The choice of fabric was for Anderson, an Irish designer,  a personal tether to heritage, and his way of recoding Dior’s classic Parisian glamour through a lens of his own national pride. Elsewhere in the collection, those cargo shorts featured side-looped flanges directly inspired by the sculptural architecture of Dior’s 1948 “Delft” couture dress. These acts of homage filtered through Anderson’s signature play with volume and gender. In reimagining house codes with a distinctly off-centre eye, Anderson referenced the legacy of Dior’s sculptural femininity, queered and unfastened for a new generation – in this context, for men. This collection, overall, was a masterclass in working with the breadth and depth of house archives such as the references bursting from Dior; and making them entirely one’s own. 

JW Anderson’s References Dior 1948 couture Delft Dress as Cargo Shorts, details via @jonathananderson IG

Martin Margiela SS97, via @oldmartinmargiela IG

Much can be said about Rei Kawakubo’s referencing; this is a whole space of study, to be honest. Rei Kawakubo’s Fall ’97 Adult Punk collection for Comme des Garçons took referencing into more chaotic terrain. Vogue described the models as “alien sprites” with mohawks and full theatrical makeup; while the collection played with decay and disorder, evoking a kind of deconstructed Victoriana — what Vogue memorably called “Miss Havisham’s couture atelier”, a referencing to the eerie Charrles Dickens character from ‘Great Expectations’. Underneath the aesthetic lay a deeper referencing mechanism: a challenge to the notion of coherence itself in fashion. The collection seems to be equal parts a nod to Victorian England and Japan’s Imperial age, all tempered by Kawakubo’s ability to ground her work in punk aesthetics. Kawakubo is one of the most preeminent leaders in citing punk as an attitude, and her unsettling designs were at the time interpreted as destructive. In this way, Kawakubo’s referencing is self-weaponised to say precisely what she wants to about fashion, beyond the societal discourse; often leaving viewers guessing about her true intentions.   

Few designers are referenced as frequently – or as reverently – as Martin Margiela. You’ll be hard pressed to find a designer today who hasn’t, in some way, been inspired by Margiela’s work; long before there was Demna’s antagonist ‘enfants terrible’, there was Martin. In the 1990s, he rewrote the rules of fashion by deconstructing and upcycling before it was ever cool or even seen as interesting, and his influence continues to haunt runways today, especially in Japanese fashion, alongside designers like Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto who shared a similar appetites for abstraction and rebellion. They too referenced tradition (kimono shapes, ancient textiles) only to distort it. Together, this school of referencing rejects commercial glamour in favour of philosophical depth; ultimately, it’s referencing as a way to dismantle norms and reconstruct meaning from the ruins. 

In contrast, Thebe Magugu continues to offer a deeply local and politically resonant approach to referencing. His collections draw from South Africa’s archives – familial histories, apartheid-era documents, traditional dress, and protest movements. Magugu’s referencing locates global fashion in specific South African narratives, challenging Eurocentric assumptions about who gets to be in the archive. In his hands, referencing has become a method of cultural preservation and a political act. I’d argue, too, that Thebe’s work poses a kind of transmutation or healing by centering the past as something integrated into our current, creative conversations. 

Understanding fashion references sharpens your visual literacy, and it’s the difference between seeing a garment and reading it. Referencing teaches you how designers think and how they place themselves within a lineage, what they borrow, and how they build on it. For aspiring designers, this is crucial – albeit, exhausting to hone in on, I’d imagine; when life bears so much depth and complexity to draw from. Referencing helps one situate their work in context, and it shows that we are aware, intentional, and in conversation with history. For critics or consumers, it’s equally essential: it enables us to appreciate the depth behind a collection, to spot cultural references, and to interrogate questions of authorship and originality. Ultimately, it allows us to engender a deeper appreciation for fashion. Referencing, to me, is what makes fashion as interesting to think about, as it is to look at it. 

Indeed, referencing also opens up ethical terrain. When is it homage, and when is it theft? How does one draw from another culture respectfully? These are not easy questions, but they are the right ones to ask. Take, for instance, Martin Margiela’s seeming monopoly on the Japanese Tabi. There’s a rhetoric today that Tabis not made by Margiela are somehow ‘dupes’—a notion that’s laughable when you remember the split-toe shoe has existed in Japan for centuries, long before the Maison ever elevated it to fashion’s avant-garde pedestal.

Ultimately, referencing is a way for designers to participate in fashion’s larger, ongoing story. That awareness is what gives those ideas resonance and strength, as fashion functions as a living archive: a record of who we have been and who we are in the process of becoming. When designers reference the past, they are translating it, bending it into new forms, inverting its meanings, and reinventing its possibilities. In doing so, they remind us that fashion is an ongoing dialogue that spans generations, geographies, and ideologies.

The next time you encounter a collection, it is worth looking a little closer. Instead of asking only what is new, can we consider what is being remembered, reinterpreted, or reasserted?

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Louis Baker releases ‘Keep On’ remixes

Aug 1, 2025 | New Release, Music

Berlin’s Best Works imprint proudly presents the first of two remix packages for ‘Keep On’, a timeless soul song by New Zealand’s Louis Baker, featuring reworks from Andre Lodemann, DJ Philippa and Hollis P. Monroe.

Best Works founder Daniel W. Best first heard Louis Baker, a New Zealand-based soul singer, perform “Keep On” as the opening act for Fat Freddy’s Drop at the Tempodrom in Berlin in 2024. He knew he wanted to create a remix package of the song. His label partner, Andre Lodemann, was also impressed when he heard the track, so he did a remix himself. DJ Philippa and Hollis P. Monroe also delivered amazing remixes. There is something for everyone here. Stay tuned for Part 2 of the remix package on Best’s Friends Music, featuring remixes by Delfonic, Larse, and Gush Collective (coming in early September).

Louis Baker is one of New Zealand’s most compelling voices in modern soul. Hailing from Newtown, Wellington, Baker crafts timeless songs with rich vocals, honest lyricism, and deep grooves rooted in soul, R&B, and jazz. His breakout came early—selected from 4,000 global applicants to attend the Red Bull Music Academy in New York—taking part in lectures with legends like Just Blaze, Q-Tip, and Brian Eno.

Since then, Baker has made an indelible mark with multiple APRA Silver Scroll nominations (including the standout single Back on My Feet), and a self-titled EP that hit #3 on the NZ charts. His debut album Open (2019) and follow-up EP Love Levitates (2021) drew global acclaim, amassing over 56 million Spotify streams and praise from the likes of India.Arie and Rolling Stone.

Live, he’s equally at home in intimate clubs or grand concert halls—performing with the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra, touring across Europe, the UK, and Australasia, and appearing at international festivals including Sziget and Sonar. Deeply connected to his Māori roots (Ngāpuhi), Baker infuses his music with heritage, hope, and heart.

Listen to ‘Keep On’ here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Miche compiles the third installment of his ‘With Love’ series

Aug 1, 2025 | New Release, Music

With two critically acclaimed compilations already under his belt, DJ / collector miche returns to Mr Bongo with the third instalment of his ‘With Love’ series. Testament to his ever-expanding taste, Volume 3 isn’t just a subs bench call-up from the past compilations, it’s an evolution and progression casting the net deeper than before.

Keeping true to the series, but with some fresh surprises along the way, this carefully curated compilation is a celebration of soulful, independently released music from across the globe, and the amazing (often unsung) musicians and vocalists that made these records.

Across the third volume, miche explores a jazzier side of his tastes. “The deeper I went, the more I found myself gravitating towards jazzier music – not leaving soul behind, but following that same feeling into new territory”, he explains. Tracks like the gliding jazz funk found on Late Nite Music Band’s ‘Sundance’, or the glorious jazz-soul number ‘In Flight’ by Spectrym are shining examples of this.

 

That defining soulful thread of previous volumes is still in full effect throughout this latest edition. “There’s a healthy dose of impossible-to-find soul gems that have that unmistakable, heartwarming feel. Tracks like John Simmons’ ‘Ain’t Nothing Like The Love’, which I’ve adored ever since Zaf Love Vinyl played it, sit perfectly alongside records like Le Cop and New Way”, states miche.

The addition of some top-tier Turkish music showcases another side to his ever-broadening taste. Nükhet Ruacan’s ‘Gölge’ is something unique, a floaty Brazilian-inspired gem recorded in Turkey and not what you’d typically expect from Turkish records of this era. 

It also wouldn’t feel right to leave out a stop in Brazil, with miche looking to the work of Carlos Bivar whose track ‘Amargo Amar’ carries that undeniable groove of samba-funk from Rio.

Spreading the With Love message far and wide the series has led to miche DJing across the globe, “from batucada sessions in Timisoara, to all-night sets in a club in Beijing, and even an eight-hour Root Down With Love stage takeover at We Out Here festival, joined by Danilo Plessow, Jeremy Underground, and of course, my mentor and buddy Rainer Trüby.”

Volume 3 then, carries that message even further. It’s an eclectic but intentional collection, built for the music lover who wants to discover something new. Working just as well as a soundtrack to cook dinner to, as it does keeping a packed dancefloor moving into the small hours.

Listen to ‘With Love Volume 3’ here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

 

“I’ll wear that when I’m ready” – The Psychological Weight of our Wardrobes

Jul 31, 2025 | Most Read, Lifestyle, Fashion

Our wardrobes are representative of our psyches, and fashion is as much indicative of our emotional and psychological terrain as it is about clothing our bodies for functionality. This I know to be true; as someone who has always ‘loved’ fashion, and who has straddled the finicky line between having certain instincts for my personal style set against struggles toward any kind of accurate or healthy self-perception, especially around how I wish to be perceived. In my early to mid-twenties, my sense of personal style had to be – as the kids say – ‘extra’, and in almost all instances where I knew I was going to be perceived for my sartorial choices, I had to signal my affinity for the obscure and unexpected, every single time. I simply could not allow anyone, least not myself, to perceive me as ever taking the road most travelled. God forbid, I didn’t make a statement. 

A skirt over pants, a myriad of clashing textures – a chain hanging from my nose ring to my ear – chunky Dr Martens, bras over shirts, my poor but relentless attempts at upcycling, layers and layers and then some. In hindsight, my clothing choices served as emblems of my psyche then: non-conformist and deeply suspicious of authority, murky in my ability to make choices, and irreverent for a time in my life (teenhood) that was chaotic and uncontained. Equally, my clothing choices also expressed my penchant for joy and humour. Now, this is not to say that anyone who dresses with reckless abandon is necessarily expressing these ideas (I would never judge anyone, and in fact, I think maximalism is equally a healthy indicator of someone’s creative freedom or emotional exuberance) — instead, these are the conclusions I can examine, in retrospect, for myself today. I think examining our personal style choices is less about establishing a moral hierarchy and more about tracing the existential threads that bind us to the expression of our identities; and it’s an analysis worth undertaking, especially as we each navigate a world that demands our material allegiance to hyper-consumption; bloated shopping carts, fleeting trends and all.  

Photography courtesy of Alamy 
Photography courtesy of Pexels 

We all have clothes in our wardrobe that seem to be waiting for the version of ourselves that we haven’t quite stepped into yet; or maybe never will. The emotional weight and psychology of fashion as self-promise and styling can become either a form of self-actualisation or avoidance; and again, personal style is an arduous journey; the question is, how deeply should we be curating ourselves, or can we just live on with reckless abandon, changing our style from moment to moment and day-to-day?

The wardrobe as a space is rarely neutral. It is, in many ways, an archive of the selves we’ve performed, abandoned, or longed to become. In Jungian terms, our clothing serves as a kind of persona; the mask we wear to interact with the world, shaped by the roles we feel we must play. We dress, consciously or not, to signal belonging, to conceal insecurity, to assert identity, or to protect our vulnerability. The outfits we choose become a tool of translation from our inner selves to the outer world, and it’s precisely this that makes fashion as a construct so endlessly compelling, and as a commercial endeavour; so wildly successful as an enterprise. The most powerful thing that you can sell someone, is their sense of self. 

Fashion psychologist Dr. Carolyn Mair points out the self-regulatory function of fashion as it relates to human behaviour, writing in The Psychology of Fashion that, “what we wear affects how we feel, think and behave, and how others respond to us. Clothing is a powerful form of self-expression which can enhance self-esteem, improve confidence, and influence our psychological processes.” If dressing is a form of identity construction, then there is surely an ache that emerges when our wardrobe becomes populated by versions of ourselves we haven’t quite lived into, such as the dress that never made it out of the house; the boots we bought with confidence we didn’t yet possess, and for many of us, the pieces we bought that we might be one day be ‘thin enough’ to wear with comfortable confidence. 

These items can gather dust on our shelves as echoes of imagined selves and in their silence, and staring back at them, they might ask us: who are you dressing for? Is it the present self, the aspirational self, or someone else entirely? This tension between authenticity and aspiration, between now and not-yet, can become one of the most emotionally complex aspects of personal style, and the promise fashion makes to us that we can somehow adorn ourselves to finally feel and be enough. 

Aspirational fashion walks a fine line between transformation and illusion. On one hand, it can be a powerful tool for self-actualisation, as touted by the theory of enclothed cognition, coined by Hajo Adam and Adam Galinsky, which suggests that the clothes we wear actively shape our own thoughts, emotions, and behaviours. The researchers undertook studies centred around white lab coats to explore how clothing influences cognitive performance, and asked whether simply wearing a garment associated with a particular role — in this case, a doctor’s coat — could affect the wearer’s psychological processes. In one study, participants who wore what they were told was a doctor’s coat performed significantly better on attention-related tasks than those who wore the same coat but were told it was a painter’s smock, or who didn’t wear a coat at all. The researchers concluded that both the symbolic meaning of the garment and the physical act of wearing it had an impact on the wearer’s attention and cognitive control, and this suggests that our psychological understanding of our clothing is intimately activated through our perception. Thus, knowing why we wear something might yield results in ways previously unknown to our unconscious indifference. Clothing holds power. 

Dressing like the version of ourselves we want to become can enhance confidence,  cognitive performance. It’s why, working from home, I wake up and dress up each morning and I swear, it gives me the focus I need to separate my personal and professional life. 

Photography courtesy of Pexels 
Photography courtesy of Pexels 
So, what happens when we accumulate clothes for lives we’re not yet living? What’s to say of the habit of “saving” special pieces for occasions that never come, or when buying garments suited to an imagined lifestyle can tip into fantasy? Fashion might start to resemble self-help culture here as a form of visualisation, or a way of manifesting a new identity. We know that, as a culture increasingly experiencing a loss of collective autonomy, the constant performance of ‘bettering’ ourselves can become its own kind of trap; a cycle of endless self-optimisation under the guise of personal empowerment. 

Again, I don’t think we need to be morally prescriptive here, instead, can we hold space for a more nuanced awareness? When those future versions of ourselves don’t arrive, or when life doesn’t align with the image we’ve dressed for, what remains? Are we holding onto garments that once felt aspirational but now hang heavy as emotional clutter? Is it actually even really that deep? 

Across social media, personal style has become a kind of visual shorthand for identity that is curated and easily recognisable. The rise of the “signature style” and the capsule wardrobe movement reflects a broader cultural desire for coherence and control, and perhaps a tightly edited wardrobe of neutral tones has come to signal discipline and a sense of self that doesn’t waver. I think of my earlier style — more experimental, eclectic — and compare it to my current affinity for ‘less is more’. Still, I find myself wondering: is this shift actually an expression of a hard-won inner clarity? Or am I, like, selling-out? The beautiful thing is, though, that personal style is a life-long process; it’s present with us in all the seasons of our experience.

Similarly, such rigid consistency across how we dress can risk reducing style to performance rather than expression. In contrast, bell hooks wrote passionately about clothing as a space of liberation, particularly for Black women, whose identities have long been policed and politicised. In her work, clothing was  intellectually and politically relevant as a site of resistance, creativity, and truth-telling, and bell championed the right to dress in ways that reflect multiplicity over any kind of conformity or strategic legitimacy. This is truly personal, sartorial freedom. 

When we shift our look daily, monthly or weekly are we actually just simply being honest? Perhaps dressing differently each day is a reflection of the many selves we hold within, and maybe that’s the whole damn point; that seizing the mood of the moment, as we change with nuanced effect each day, is an act of self-respect. I suppose if there’s one noble thing fashion can do, it’s to remind us that none of us are fixed or unoriginal; our clothes are simply one small part of the entire complexity of who we are.

I guess, I’ll stay layering; my recklessness charged toward self-acceptance. 

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Instinct Over Everything With Photographer Katinka Bester

Jul 29, 2025 | Interviews, Creatives

Most South African creatives cut their teeth on home soil, honing their craft locally before setting their sights abroad; chasing the dream of international recognition and spreading their wings. Katinka Bester, however, followed a counter-narrative. Today, as a veteran photographer (though young as she still is), Katinka’s formative years were spent in the visual capitals of New York and Paris; running circles around spaces most in fashion could only dream of accessing. She cut her teeth under the exacting eye of industry legend Ulrich Knoblauch and rubbed shoulders with fashion’s global inner circle; building her vision in the epicentre of style before circling back to South Africa with a uniquely sharpened lens. 

Now, with a body of work that suffuses technical precision with poetic instinct, it’s almost surreal to imagine that her earliest forays behind the camera included muses like Isabel Marant, or that she was present during the golden days of Self Service, on the cusp of Bella Hadid’s ascent, or in the thick of it at a Supreme party alongside Virgil Abloh and Tremaine Emory. Katinka’s testing ground was the fashion frontier — and most refreshing about her is the way she views those mid 2010s experiences: as fun, irreverent, and ultimately inconsequential to her sense of self or creative purpose. As Katinka later tells me, “I’ve always had a good head on my shoulders.”

What’s the opposite of clout-chasing, as the kids call it today? Of myth-making? This refusal to pedestalise the hype is perhaps Katinka’s most fundamental quality professionally (aside from her phenomenal talent) — a grounded relationship to reality, to fame and to the fleeting nature of it all. That a 22-year-old South African bartender from Cape Town’s iconic P&G’s could end up shooting backstage at Paris Fashion Week or brushing past Chloë Sevigny at a Supreme party, is a reminder that talent, spirit, and an openness to possibility might be the best passport of all; these are the substances of instinct, timing, and a kind of creative courage that can be neither taught nor bought.

All photography courtesy of Katinka Bester
“I didn’t set out to become a photographer,” Katinka reflects. “At one point, I actually thought I’d study law, but deep down, I always knew I was creative, and that I needed to be around people.” Katinka speaks with a candour that cuts through any illusion of a carefully plotted career path, and that “I had a tough childhood. My mum was very ill when I was growing up, so for a long time, I was just trying to survive. After she passed away when I was 22, I had to find my own way.” Photography, as it turns out, found her, as a salve for her grief and a tool to make meaning of the world that she’s been ever-observant of. “Someone suggested I come work on a set, just to see what it was like. I had no idea what I was doing, but I loved it — I was barefoot, laughing, totally in the moment.” Set has an incredible way of nourishing those of us with a proclivity for chaos; finally, we can embrace unpredictability and flock around in flow state. The best set are like compressed passages of time shared with other creatives and of course — perfect for Katinka, whose eye thrives on distilling the fragmentary essence of essential and raw moments. 

This sense of spontaneity — of letting life unfold in wild, unscripted ways — is something Katinka has carried since her days behind the bar at Power & Glory, part of the bar’s initial set of bartenders who shepherded its glory days;  “It was wild — we had no rules, played our own music, threw people out if we didn’t like them,” Katinka laughs. “It was a creative hub, really. All these incredible people passed through, even international celebrities when they came to shoot films. That time really confirmed for me how much I love working with people, and that I thrive in chaotic environments.”

Starting as a ‘digi’ on sets — a digital assistant – and quickly known for her speed and precision, Katinka’s work alongside photographers and clients was edified in frenetic environments. Ulrich Knoblauch, one of South Africa’s most revered fashion photographers, became her mentor and gateway to the wider world of New York and Paris fashion. “I honestly owe so much to him — he believed in me, pushed me, and brought me into international space.”

Katinka’s entry into the world of fashion was anything but conventional; “Ulrich started shooting the First Looks for Self Service Magazine, it’s this intense backstage moment before models step onto the runway,” she explains. “You don’t know if you’re going to get your shot. Designers can be cutthroat, they can be yelling ‘Vogue can stay, Interview can stay, everyone else — out,’ It was wild. Ulrich got headhunted to do other work and eventually brought me in. I bought a ticket to New York and just went for it.” Self Service is something of a myth today, and the bi-annual Parisian publication is perhaps the last stop on the road that winds out of fashion’s print publishing heyday. Katinka’s approach in those early days was unapologetically gutsy, and she recalls barreling late into an Alexander Wang show, weaving under legs and demanding space in the ‘pit’ (the chaotic frontline for photographers at shows). Yet, as Katinka notes, her photographs reveal none of the frenzied battle behind the scenes and that, “I’ve always been instinctive. When you’re working backstage, there’s no time to curate — you shoot fast, and you shoot with feeling,” she says. “That kind of working environment taught me to trust my eye and my body, to shoot from intuition rather than overthinking. It’s become part of my style. I know how to get the shots I want.” There can be this perception that the best artists or creatives are those who endlessly deliberate and rework every frame; thousands of shots later, and exhausted time spent. I have always been suspicious of this kind of methodical obsession, and whether it has little bearing on true skill or talent; often, it feels typically self-indulgent. Rather, Katinka’s ability to carve the precise image she wants out of imperfect circumstances or compositions renders her work radically and totally free from artifice and constraint. Sensational. 

What began as assisting soon morphed into a solo practice, as designers began requesting Katinka directly; “That’s how I started shooting house shows; when a designer hires you to shoot their backstage privately. I worked with Isabel Marant, Lemaire… I remember sitting at the table with Christophe Lemaire, thinking: ‘What is my life?’ I was a 22-year-old South African girl — and I was somehow part of this world.”

“She was this incredible presence — always a glass of champagne and a rollie in hand,” Katinka says of Isabel Marant, who I feel is truly one of the most chic women to have ever existed. “There was this moment after one of her shows where we locked eyes and I just knew — she was saying, ‘I see you.’ There was a kind of unspoken respect between us as women, across very different worlds.” That mutual respect extended into creative trust, “when Isabel asked me to shoot her party in a Studio 54 kind of way, I said yes — but on one condition,” Katinka notes, of the cheeky hubris often only afforded to us by youth, “I told her I needed my own barman and champagne on tap, because the only way to really capture that energy was to become one with the crowd,” Katinka grins. “It worked! I got the shots, and I had the most fun doing it.” 

Continuing the lore, which has me in a grip, Katinka notes with a shrug, that “I crashed Vogue’s 100-year party in Paris,” as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Ulrich told me, ‘You’re Katinka, you can get in anywhere.’ I didn’t have an invite, but I was standing there with Self Service in my hand, looking the part. The bouncer let me through and gave me a VIP wristband — later I found out they can get fired if they don’t recognise someone important enough. So he must’ve thought I was someone famous! Next thing I know, I’m in VIP with Lenny Kravitz, drinking Veuve from stemless glasses and dodging oversized joints. It was insane.”

All photography courtesy of Katinka Bester
Behind the madness and the magic, there were also moments that left an impression for different reasons. “I saw a girl faint backstage once,” Katinka recalls. “The models were so painfully thin — thinner even than they appear in photos. We tried to feed her, but she refused. That moment stuck with me. Fashion is beautiful, but it’s also brutal and it’s not real life.” As Katinka emphasises, she is a natural child; and to be back, rooted in Cape Town, was a non-negotiable. Bearing the dual afflictions of enchantment and emptiness — as the world of fashion is only too masterful at imbibing us with – Katinka returned home. “I came back with zero regrets. After everything — my mum’s passing, the whirlwind overseas — I just knew I wanted something more rooted,” she reflects, “I started investing in property, building a life where I didn’t have to rely on anyone. That was important to me, having grown up with very little. I’ve always had a good head on my shoulders, and I just wanted to build security for myself.”

Now based in Cape Town, Katinka finds herself at a creative crossroads, balancing the weight of experience with a longing to return to instinct. “The industry today feels… difficult,” she says, candid as ever, as I’m learning Katinka’s disposition is a full expression of refreshing honesty. “There are so many platforms, so many expectations, and so little time for real craft. Sometimes I feel like I’m drifting away from the reason I started shooting in the first place. I’m trying to find my way back.”

If Katinka’s early career was built in the chaos of backstage fashion and global runways, her current work emerges from a deeper place; rooted in trust, intimacy, and a fierce devotion to the inner life of her subjects. “My work is a poetic dance to me, and I’m always interested in playing with light, colour, and, most importantly, my subject,” she explains. “Empowerment has always been a huge thread running through everything I do. For me, the process is actually more important than the final image itself.”

That emphasis on process is what sets Katinka apart, and it is the felt experience when viewing her images; “over the years, I’ve worked with so many people, sometimes those experiencing a photo shoot for the very first time. I approach each session with care, trying to gently uncover and decondition them — to help them find their own power. It’s a kind of beautiful psychology that I absolutely love being part of.” Ironically, for someone so adept at making others feel seen, Katinka finds visibility unnerving. “I’m probably a bit hypocritical because I’m actually terrified of the camera myself,” Katinka admits. “Interviews terrify me. But I have this enormous respect for the bravery it takes for people to show themselves in that way — to be vulnerable and open. For me, patience is key. I try to show my subjects how truly beautiful they are, even when they can’t see it yet.” It’s no small thing holding space for someone to reveal themselves. Whether through a lens or a conversation, it’s an intimate job and over the years, I’ve come to recognise it as my most essential purpose when interviewing: to create a space for someone’s truth to surface; unforced and entirely their own.

That mutuality is central to Katinka’s practice — a resistance to the industry’s more extractive tendencies. “Something I always keep front of mind is that whoever I’m shooting, it’s a mutual assembly of expression. My subjects are never objectified. That’s hugely important to me. In our industry, I think that’s often missed,” Katinka says. “To get the best out of someone, you have to attune to their needs — not expect them to conform to yours. That’s a big misconception that I see a lot.” Even in Katinka’s personal projects, nothing is fixed. “I never really know how an image is going to come out,” she says. “I might have an outline, but I almost never stick to it rigidly because the shoot is always a mutual creation. It’s that openness and shared expression that makes the work so meaningful.”

While people remain her favourite subject, Katinka’s gaze is also always toward land, light, and the strange and beautiful world of nature. “I reference paintings a lot, and often try to see landscapes in an abstract way. I notice shapes, light, and the animals that seem to emerge from those forms,” Katinka explains. “As a typical Cancerian, I find emotional depth in nature — it’s where I often go when I’m feeling low or depressed. For me, photographs are the way I give back my inner world.” Cancerians are the zodiac sign known for an almost permanent immersion in the watery depths of the emotional body, intuition and nostalgia; glancing through Katinka’s work, this foundation is entirely traceable throughout. 

I ask Katinka whether she’s always had an eye for seeing what others might not be able? “I think I’ve always had an eye for it,” she responds, “Even as a child, I used to comment on the world around me — the surroundings, the details. That sensitivity has stayed with me and continues to shape how I see and capture the world.” Katinka is an intermediary between moments that existed and those of us who were not there or couldn’t see it; as I’ve said before, there is something shamanic when photographers are able to collapse time and reveal presence. This is witch-work, baby. 

Right now, Katinka is on a break and involved in personal projects as she confronts the existential crisis that commercial work has stirred in her. As an antidote, she began offering her services free of charge to local brands — with the only prerequisite being that she could be conceptually involved. This act of service can be wholly transformative for a brand. As Katinka muses, “Photography is expensive — I would know!” — adding that these collaborations have led to some of the most gratifying work she’s done in recent years.

Then there’s the recent shoot she did with stylist Liza Lombard, one I’ve been returning to on a near-daily basis to fawn over. While Katinka might be feeling jaded in some ways, I suspect she’s at the threshold of being in her element; and as her life has demonstrated, she will know where she needs to be, and what she needs to do. As is customary for CEC, I ask Katinka for her words of wisdom; “the most vital thing is to trust your own artistic voice,” she says. “We all draw inspiration from others and we all love to reference, and that’s important — but your personal reference, that inner voice, is your creative identity. That’s what sets you apart.” Katinka is also a firm believer in mentorship and acts of service. “Keep teaching. Keep inspiring. If someone reaches out to you, take the time to respond. It’s your responsibility to share what you know and help build the community. No one else can replicate your image — not exactly, not fully — even if it’s of the same subject, so don’t guard your creativity. Generosity is part of growth.” 

I know that I can be flippant with my use of the word ‘iconic’, but in this context, it couldn’t be more apt or true; Katinka Bester is iconic, in every sense of the world – may we all be as comfortable in the mountains as we are backstage (or in the thick of our places of chaos), and may our inner dualities always guide as to build our most exceptional and beautiful lives. 

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Good Good Good x Calla Debut a Zero-Waste Capsule for SS26

Jul 25, 2025 | Fashion, Community

For SS26, Cape Town-based brand Good Good Good introduces new shapes and colours to its ever-growing zero-waste ‘Strip-Stripe’ Capsule. The brand also launches its debut collaboration with Parisian footwear brand Calla, made with colourful fabric offcuts from the past 10 years of Good Good Good collections. The ‘Strip-Stripe’ Capsule is Good Good Good’s latest solution to work with fabric waste from the regular T-shirt and fleece production runs at its 30-year-old heritage manufacturing facility, Together MFG, based in their home city. 

Good Good Good founder and creative director Daniel Sher joined his mother-in-law’s manufacturing business in 2016, where he started producing for his own brand alongside a number of other independent South African labels in a small rented portion of the factory. Six years later, Daniel moved his manufacturing service out of his mother-in-law’s factory, right after Together MFG was selected as the sole South African manufacturer for Christian Dior’s 2022 collaborative collection with South African LVMH Prize winner Thebe Magugu. Having soaked up invaluable amounts of experience and expertise from his mother-in-law, the factory had established itself as one of the country’s most prominent boutique clothing manufacturers, and Daniel and his factory felt ready to move out.

All photography courtesy of Good Good Good, by Luke Kuisis

Along with their machinery, all of Good Good Good’s offcuts, which had been stored and hoarded since 2016, also accompanied the team in the relocation of their factory. It is from these offcuts, as well as newly produced waste, that the ‘Strip-Stripe’ Capsule is made. For SS26, Good Good Good offers patchwork T-shirts cut from 100% Southern African-sourced cotton single jersey and a selection of other garments cut from premium French terry fleece in the brand’s seasonal colours. The manufacturing process behind these garments is arduous. With meticulous attention to detail, offcuts are selected by hand and cut down to their desired shapes, including linear strips, blocks and diamonds. Strips need to be sewn together two at a time, then ironed straight to avoid bowing, before being added to the greater piece of ‘Strip-Stripe’ fabric. Eventually, the piece of ‘Strip-Stripe’ fabric is large enough to cut the panels of the garments from. The garments are finally cut, made and trimmed, one-by-one, in some of Good Good Good’s core silhouettes, including the Heavy T-Shirt, Clubhouse Jersey, Hoodie, Drawstring Shorts and Balloon Trousers. Each ‘Strip-Stripe’ garment is completely unique. While some strips are set to fray, adding character as the garments are worn more, they are constructed to last and maintain their shape. 

For Good Good Good’s debut collaboration with Calla, on the other hand, the brand selected offcuts from its first 10 years of collections, which have been composed of colourful textiles produced by some of South Africa’s most prominent textile designers and mills, including homeware textile mill Mungo and designer Benjamin Nivison. After placing her namesake ready-to-wear brand on a hiatus, Calla Haynes’ collaborative spirit inspired her to seek out artisans in Morocco and to start the “The Boucharouite Project”:  initiatives that focus on two key themes of Sustainable Design – recycling textiles and supporting traditional craft. Good Good Good is pleased to be able to contribute to this project by sending its offcuts to Marakech, Morocco, where Calla’s network of artisans cut and wove them into rugs before cutting them into panels and making a small run of babouche slippers from them. As is the case for Good Good Good’s ‘Strip-Stripe’ Capsule, this collaboration is a sustainable solution to curb fabric waste that is both considered and beautiful.

 

All photography courtesy of Good Good Good, by Luke Kuisis

Join for the in-store launch at Duck Duck Goose from 10am – 6pm on Friday 25 July, 120 Bree Street. The Launch Party will also be held on Saturday 26 July at One Park from 7.30pm – late, with music from Foetal Position and Full Inbox. 

 

Lookbook Credits

Photographer: Luke Kuisis

Stylist: Erin Simon

Make-Up: Saskia Buxton

Models: Tanya Slater & Max Melvill

 

Press release courtesy of Good Good Good 

 

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Samthing Soweto’s ‘Touch Is a Move: Good Morning’ is Out Now

Jul 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

Samthing Soweto is back with his long-awaited second album, ‘Touch Is a Move: Good Morning’.
The album title draws from his personal philosophy and ritual. “Touch Is a Move” echoes a rule from games played in childhood: once you touched a piece, you had to make the move – no hesitation, no take-backs. It’s a phrase that grew to reflect a way of living with courage and decisiveness. “Good Morning” was born from a simple ritual Samkelo began in 2023 – a daily greeting to his online audience that became a method of maintaining community and connection. Together, these phrases speak to the album’s intention: a decisive exploration of how simple rituals, words, and connections shape who we become.

The album unfolds like an ordinary day in Soweto, beginning with the crescendo of an early morning and winding down into the late evening’s reflections. Told through a blend of interludes and songs, it follows a day in the life of five-year-old Samkelo in the early 1990s. We are introduced to uMama, uGogo, bhut’ Lungisa, sis’ Amina, and sis’ BhiBhi through his eyes. We hear his thoughts, see his world, and witness the wonder of living across different generations in his home. The voice of young Samkelo becomes our guide. And although in real life he is the third of four children, the album returns to a time when he was “iqanda lakubo” – the last-born.
These memories are not only presented as nostalgic flashbacks but as vivid threads woven into the fabric of the present.
Running alongside these interludes is a collection of love songs, each one exploring a different dimension of love: romantic, familial, complex, vulnerable, playful, and much more.
 
Listen to ‘Touch Is a Move: Good Morning’ here 

Connect with Samthing Soweto:
Instagram: @samthingsoweto
Facebook: @samthingsoweto
X: @samthingsoweto
TikTok: @samthinsoweto
YouTube: Samthing Soweto

Press release courtesy of Sheila Afari PR

Raz and Afla release ‘We Taya’ Remixes

Jul 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

Wah Wah 45s are proud to present ‘We Taya‘ (DMX Krew Remix), the second in a series of remixes reinterpreting and celebrating last year’s Echoes Of Resistance LP, the sophomore album from Afro-electronic duo Raz & Afla. Raz Olsher and Afla Sackey converge worlds through their dynamic fusion of electronic and traditional African rhythms, forging a path that is as bold as it is innovative. Rooted in their deep-seated passion for music and cultural exploration, they seamlessly blend their distinct musical backgrounds to create a unique sonic landscape that captivates audiences worldwide.

Raz Olsher is a visionary producer and composer known for his boundary-pushing electronic soundscapes, bringing his expertise in blending diverse musical elements to the duo. His meticulous attention to detail and penchant for experimentation form the foundation upon which Raz & Afla’s sound thrives. Already part of the Wah Wah 45s family with his band Afrik Bawantu, Afla Sackey is an esteemed percussionist and vocalist with roots tracing back to Ghana. He infuses the duo’s music with rich traditional African rhythms and melodies. Afla’s virtuosity on percussion instruments and his soulful vocals add a visceral, organic dimension to their compositions, creating a mesmerising auditory experience that transcends cultural boundaries. Together, Raz & Afla defy genre limitations, seamlessly weaving together electronic beats, Afrobeat grooves, and intricate percussive textures. Their music resonates with a deep sense of cultural authenticity and a forward-thinking approach that pushes the boundaries of contemporary music.

‘We Taya’ is a standout single from the Echoes Of Resistance LP. In its original form it’s an uplifting and politically conscious piece with some serious dance floor bounce. Following on from the anthemic and hugely popular remix of ‘Shikor Shikor’ from BBC 6 Music’s Jamz Supernova and Sam Interface, renowned London based DJ, producer and engineer Edward Upton, better known as DMX Krew, tackles ‘We Taya’ with aplomb and comes up with a life affirming Afro-disco/house monster replete with vibrant guitars and sparkling keys. “It was great fun to let out my jazzfunk teenage self and play some Rhodes piano and a synth solo on this jam.” Edward Upton (DMX Krew)

With a growing discography that includes critically acclaimed releases and collaborations with musicians from around the globe, Raz & Afla continue to carve out their place in the international music scene. Their electrifying live performances are celebrated for their energy and the profound connection they forge with audiences, making every show a vibrant celebration of musical diversity

and unity. We Taya (DMX Krew Remix) will be part of the Remixes Of Resistance album project, released August 1st 2025.

 ‘We Taya’ (DMX Krew Remix) here 

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Babon present ‘Cacti Traveler’ and ‘Mirage’

Jul 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

Introducing their forthcoming debut LP ‘Tropical Desert’, which drops September 26th on Wonderwheel Recordings, Indonesian instrumental jazz outfit BABON present the album’s first two singles, ‘Cacti Traveler’ and ‘Mirage’.

‘Cacti Traveler’ is the story of an intergalactic journeyman who travels through a tropical landscape, uncovering the past and glimpsing possible futures. His journey traces the history of tropical development, from independence to the industrial revolution and modern life, moving from lush forests to a deserted wasteland. The brass melodies narrate the story, weaving through the air as life unfolds—each note capturing moments of wonder, sorrow, and hope. As the journey deepens, hip-hop-inspired beats emerge, echoing the steps of the Traveler. It all culminates in a spiritual jazz finale, a nod to the musical roots that continues to shape BABON’s sound.

‘Mirage’ (out July 25th) is a journey into the psyche of a man lost in a desert. Almost losing his mind, he continuously recollects himself in order to keep going. The song features prominent synthesizer melodies, a new sonic element which provides a glimpse into BABON’s future explorations. BABON’s hip-hop influence comes through in the song’s verses. Reverb drenched guitars and an emotional solo expresses the character’s inner turmoil as he navigates an expansive landscape.

BABON is an instrumental band from Indonesia consisting of Rayi, Wahyudi and Rori. Their sound weaves traditional Indonesian genres such as keroncong and dangdut with western and world music influences, such as middle-eastern-grooves and afro-funk. BABON’s songs tell stories of environmental degradation and its inherent human drama. In a live setting the band expands to a 7 piece. They describe the fusion of their unique sound and environmentally fuelled imagery as ‘Tropical Desert’ music.

Listen to Cacti Traveler and Mirage

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Art Themes || Theme Six: Paper Cuts

Jul 24, 2025 | Creatives, Art

Paper — ephemeral, everyday, yet deceptively fragile — is a material we often associate with impermanence. Yet, in the hands of artists, it becomes a powerful conduit for memory, narrative, protest and play. The following selection of artists, forming our next iteration of our bi-monthly art round-up, engage with paper not merely as medium, but as metaphor and method. Whether torn, printed, folded, stitched, or digitised, their works explore themes of identity, transience, nostalgia, and resistance. 

Some artists use paper to mine the past while others critique the present. All six artists reveal how something as transparent and light as a sheet of paper can cut deep, revealing hidden seams in culture and selfhood. In this roundup the line between the delicate and the incisive remains razor sharp. 

Maia Lehr Sacks (South African) 

‘Ventral’, 2025, folded paper

Maia is best known for folded paper sculptures, delicate ink drawings, and mixed-media works that blend craft, drawing, and environmental themes. Her work deeply engages with memory, repetition, and nostalgia: she repeats stitches, folds, or marks to evoke the cyclical nature of remembering in a meditative way, and to materialise traces of lived experience.

Her delicate origami sculptures are folded with rhythmic repetition, echoing the nature of recall, embodying time as physical form. Moving beyond traditional origami, Maia experiments with ancient and modern folding techniques that curve and shape 2D paper into intricate three-dimensional structures, blending fragility with strength.

For Maia, paper is not just a medium but a companion in the process of self-reflection and creative exploration. The repetitive act of folding mirrors the way memories unfold—imperfect, subjective, yet undeniably present. Her work captures this tension between memory’s elusiveness and the material certainty of paper.

Emerging from childhood experiments with paper folding to her current refined practice, Maia’s work redefines paper sculpture in South Africa. Her art is a quiet meditation on impermanence and persistence, inviting viewers to witness the beauty and complexity born from a simple sheet of paper.

Photography courtesy of the artist’s website and Instagram archives

Pam Puck (Italian-America) 

‘Think You Can Hurt Me? You Can’t Even Find Me!’, 2024

Pam Puck’s sculptures are built from paper mache, a material that brings together fragility and strength, playfulness and depth. Initially a ceramic sculptor, Pam uses the tactile nature of paper pulp to shape figures that are both humorous and vulnerable. Drawing inspiration from folk, outsider, and medieval art, their work mixes mythology with personal experience—touching on themes of mental health and sexuality.

As a fluid and unusual medium, paper mache allows Pam to create imaginary characters like monsters and imps that feel alive and full of story. The handmade, textured quality makes these figures feel both familiar and strange, approachable yet unsettling. The way Pam builds up and shapes the paper mirrors the process of exploring hidden emotions and thoughts, encouraging us to look deeper still.

Photography courtesy of the artist’s website and Instagram archives

William Kentridge (South African)

‘Paper Procession 3’, 2023, Steel, Aluminium, oil paint

William Kentridge is best known for his politically charged works that combine sculpture, drawing, film, performance and theater. His multidisciplinary approach and intellectual depth have earned him international acclaim, including exhibitions at major museums like MoMA and the Tate. In Kentridge’s words regarding his practice, he shares, “How much do you glean from what you read, and how much of what you read is changed by what you’re seeing around it?”

In his exhibition, ‘What Have They Done with All the Air?’, William Kentridge returns to paper as a central medium — not just as a surface, but as an active stage for political inquiry and historical layering. Presented by Goodman Gallery, the works stem from his theatre production ‘The Great Yes, the Great No’, inspired by the 1941 Atlantic crossing of the Capitaine Paul Lemerle. Drawings on paper as well as paper as a texture on sculptures serve as both scenographic elements and narrative devices, layering character portraits, vegetation and fragments of political text. Kentridge’s manipulation of paper is reasserted as material presence, resisting disappearance. Paper here becomes a carrier of image, history, and metaphor, a tactile counterweight to digital removal and historical erasure.

Photography courtesy of the artist’s website and Instagram archives

Dima Yarovinsky (Tel Aviv)

‘I Agree’, Paper, 2018

Dima Yarovinsky is a multidisciplinary designer who pushes information design into the realm of political and societal reflection. In his artwork, ‘I Agree’, Dima uses paper to render the abstract mechanics of digital consent into a tangible, overwhelming form. By printing the full Terms of Service from platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Tinder onto scrolls of A4 paper in standard legal formatting, Dima translates invisible digital contracts into physical objects that expose the imbalance between users and tech corporations. Each scroll is laden with the number of words and estimated reading time, making the inaccessibility of these documents visually and spatially undeniable. Here, paper serves not only as medium but as evidence — a tool of confrontation and critique that reveals the scale, opacity and potential coercion embedded in everyday online interactions.

Photography courtesy of the artist’s website and Instagram archives

Lily Bunney (London)

‘Star (Complete)’, 2024

Working primarily on squared exercise book paper, Lily Bunney explores the intersection of analogue craft, digital aesthetics, and female intimacy. Her recent series, ‘girls peeing on cars’, uses pointillist drawing to depict scenes of women urinating between parked vehicles — a visual metaphor for informal solidarity and care between friends. Paper plays a structural and conceptual role: the grid underpins her methodical mark-making while evoking systems of order, repetition, and constraint. Bunney’s manipulation of paper — often layering it with plastic gems or low-fi materials — draws attention to the tension between sincerity and surface, intimacy and abstraction. Her work questions how images are read, filtered, and shared, positioning paper not just as support, but as interface.

Photography courtesy of the artist’s website and Instagram archives

Sitaara Stodel (South African)

“Four Walls” Collage Installation was part of RESERVOIR’s ‘Space Register’ group exhibition with UNTITLED, 2024, photography by Mia Thom and Slater Studio 

For Sitaara Stodel, who’s currently doing her MFA, paper is more than just a surface but a vessel for memory, identity and the instability of home. Working primarily in collage, she manipulates found family photographs and printed imagery, sourced from antique shops and markets, to construct intricate, deeply personal narratives. These paper fragments are torn, cut, and stitched to become a means of reckoning with a life marked by displacement. Having moved house over forty times, often into spaces her family could not afford, the transience of domestic space permeates her practice.

Paper in Stodel’s hands becomes fragile proof of a life lived in motion — brittle with age, soft with nostalgia, yet sturdy enough to hold reconstruction. She tears into scenes of suburban interiors, sea-facing homes, and glossy household objects, then reassembles them with gold thread, which could be seen as a deliberate act of remaking and re-owning memory. Each collage is a quiet act of resistance against erasure.

 

In tracing the edges of paper — its folds, tears, and textures — these artists reveal more than technique; they expose the fragility and resilience of the human experience. Paper, in their hands, is not passive. It holds memory, enacts resistance, reimagines myth, and reconstructs belonging. Whether through political critique, personal history, or formal experimentation, each artist demonstrates how this humble material can carry the weight of meaning and how, when pushed to its limits, it cuts through noise with uncommon clarity. In a world increasingly digitised and disembodied, these works remind us that even the most transient materials can leave a lasting mark.

“Four Walls” Collage Installation was part of RESERVOIR’s ‘Space Register’ group exhibition with UNTITLED, 2024, photography by Mia Thom and Slater Studio 

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za