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If there is anyone here who believes in divine timing raise your hand. Now as I get older, it seems that my past informs its present, how the creativity is released.

2017, in the wake of my mothers passing we managed to release an EP and perform it in front of a massive crowd. Since then, quite honestly, it has felt as though I have mainly been running on adrenaline from being a mother but also from the grief.

Rose was released on her years mind. And well, this time I’ve managed to open a show the day before her birthday. I use to think it was my grief trying to find a distraction; but now ,I’m beginning to see that I just want her near in all that I do. Everything that I do in this life seems to tie into mothering, land, and flowers; always flowers. It began as a way to understand my heritage, my Great Grandmother Christine who was a coloured woman and bought her own land in Constantia and turned it into a cut flower farm. It is now a rhythm I include in my everyday. Collecting flowers in jars, hanging them to dry, cutting pasting and sewing with my Grandmother Jean’s old threads. Perhaps to make meaning of everything that has gotten us here. Of everything lost. A constant practise and meditation of my own kind.

Some will say; there is also a part of my art making that is more commercial now that I’ve been working on illustration for the past year or so. If you asked me five years ago if I would be selling flower prints at a market with a toddler on my hip; I would’ve said no. But here we are. For so long I believed the more commercial prints couldn’t exist alongside my more conceptual “fine art” pieces; but the only person who was saying I could not do both was me. Sure, there is a fear that this will undoubtedly be cheapening the work that I make. But I also can’t keep creating with the fear of what people might think or what others will choose to put their value on.

I wanted to exhibit at Ground again because I wanted the work to be more personable, much like the connections my store prints have with the people at the market. I love the humanness of showing my work at a market, the way people interact with the work and tell me their stories without knowing anything about me; why they felt connected to buying the piece. There was something I wanted to extend here by exhibiting at Ground and not in a more formal Gallery set up, the viewer would be able to sit next to the work and continue their everyday alongside it.

There are moments where doubt and depression take over; moments where I mourn a version of myself that perhaps could have been. So many changes, my body especially. And then there are moments of clarity and celebration; when I think about what has happened to get me here and a small tear runs down my cheek. I didn’t plan on becoming a mother; I didn’t plan any of this. But somehow, everything has worked itself out. The Divine Timing perhaps. For the first time in a long time; the art is art for art sake; and I’m not creating for the outcome of a sale. It feels liberating. The process has just begun.

Return to Land, Return to Skin opens tonight and is up until next month at Ground Art, hopefully you can check it out! AA x

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Not so secret: How to get your Fine Art prints going (Cape Town based artists)

I often get direct messages from young artists, asking if I could share with them the ways in which I go about creating my works into prints and essentially, a product. I love meeting new people, so most of the time if someone asks me what to do I invite them for tea and it turns into a wonderful meeting. I am however, in a transitional phase, where my mornings will soon not be mine anymore as I head into a homeschooling (unschooling) curriculum with Frank. So here are the tricks of the trade I guess, that some people would consider a trade secret. I’m all for supporting artists in ANY way that I can, and besides, it’s nothing a bit of research wont fix.

OK, so first step is scanning the artwork. I use high res scanning at Art Lab at the Old Biscuit Mill; I think there are a few other places that do high res scanning, but their scanning bed is HUGE. So if you have works around size A0; they will easily be able to scan this for you.

Second step is getting yourself a large flash drive or hard drive that you van store all of your artworks on. You will need to collect the high res scans and pop them on there. Once thats done you will go to a place called WET INK at the Woodstock Exchange, there are two lovely men who work there who will be able to chat to you able their different printing solutions for your artworks.

Packaging: Chipboard can be found and cut to your prescribed size at The Deckle Edge (@ R4 a cut), and sleeves (A6-A3) can be found at Plastipak in Woodstock! If your works are larger than A3 I would suggest packaging in tissue paper and a tube.

And there’s it* I hope that info helped a fellow art maker along their way!

AA x

Good ol’ Faithfuls

I’ve been having writers block, not that I am a writer let’s be honest. But the blog posts have been few and far between, mainly because I don’t like wasting time so wouldn’t want to write about bullshit. Anyone remember when I made fun of bloggers but then I started a blog? yes thats meh. But really though; I want my posts to be meaningful, useful and have a point to them. So I thought for process purpose; it would be great to get down to the basics. I am a painter, I have painted since I was about 15 give or take 12 years of practising. I studied Painting for four and have continued over the last four making a bunch of artworks I am not quite sure that I like but I make them anyways. Here is the low down on my brushes…

I use to be awful at taking care of my brushes, leaving them in the water so the coating comes off of them and then wood absorbs the water (face palm). Not cleaning them properly only for me to buy more (that is the worst).  So how I clean them; I use two jars, and clean once and then clean again in the clearer water. Luckily I do not paint with oils at the moment so it makes my life a little easier as I do not have to work with turpentine or anything hectic. I then take a little bit of soap in my hand and rub the brushes in circular motions on the palm of my hand and rinse again under a tap, making sure to get the paint out as much as I can in the ferrule (the part that holds the hairs together) . Lay them to dry horizontally on a towel you don’t mind messing up.

I love a good flat brush (my large one pictured above); it has a square end, with medium to long hairs. I mainly use it to get good coverage, bold strokes but also use the edge for line work and straight edges. Long haired flat brushes are also good for your varnish coat once the work is complete.

Angular flat brush; this one I use for curved strokes and is also cool for dot work with the little tip. Similar to a flat brush (love a good flat brush)

This here is a round brush; honestly I do not use it as much as my flat brushes; well at least not this big guy. But it is great for more controlled washes for when you want to get your first layer down and kind of map out where things will go. It becomes wider the more you press it down. I find there isn’t enough control with them; so work loosely with these guys.

Detailed round, smaller flat brushes.

I love the smaller detail round brushes. Since I have been going more intricate with line work in my mountains these have been great; and ofcourse some smaller flatties. Once I have paid down the main parts I go in with detail with these.

So there it is; take care of them brushes! They are expensive and it adds up if you are replacing them quarterly. Hope this helped someone along their way to becoming more creative!

AA x

Lili and Frank

So I have been playing with the idea of starting something new for the clothing and home side of the store; it is still in is early days; but it had all become a little much and I needed to make some sort of change. I decided to dedicate a name and space for something new; a shift to separate but also allow the clothing a space to develop at it’s own pace. My thoughts are… rather shift things now than later on when it’s more difficult to rebrand.

I started the clothing side of what of the store last year and it has grown into something wonderful. But clothing is really hard; there are some days when I want to throw in the towel and call it a day… but at the same time, it is extremely rewarding to see people happy in your clothing.

My grandmother left us with all sorts of bits and bobs. She left SO many kiddies clothes patterns. I guess I didn’t think of it before but now I am at a place where I want to start producing a small run of kiddies clothes along side the ladies capsule collection I’m building. When I think about it, it feels overwhelming. But when I really think about it, it all feels right an as it should be.

It is messy and not exactly the way I would like to change things over, ideally my new branding for L&F would have been in place; but I have learnt since building a brand that design and branding really come secondary to process, storytelling and playing. That is the stage I am in now with all of it.

So a few changes that will be happening; I am discontinuing my handpainted product; I find that it takes up too much time that I should be spending on my painting and illustration. All handpainted goods will be discontinued, what you see on the store now is the last of it.

Everything will still remain under the umbrella of Amy Ayanda; but Lili and Frank will have a dedicated content and social media space. I will be launching my new Website towards the end of March, for now everything will run much the same until its change over.

If you have any further questions please feel free to email me amyayanda@gmail.com

 

Best

AA x

Our Birth Story 22nd of January 2016

“What would happen to our lives, our world, if the parent could unconditionally affirm the child, saying in so many words: “You are precious to us; you will always have our love and support; you are here to be who you are; try never to hurt another, but never stop trying to become yourself as fully as you can; when you fall and fail, you are still loved by us and welcomed to us, but you are also here to leave us, and to go onward toward your own destiny without having to worry about pleasing us.” 
― James Hollis, Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: How to Finally, Really Grow Up

All Images by Caroline Mackintosch for An Ode to Nude

 

Today you are three. While I say often, “I cannot believe how fast you have grown,” the space between then and now has been important, slow and full of growth in it’s own right. But today I tell the story of your birth.

My labour started at 8am, Dean had just left for work and I went for my morning ritual on the porclain express. I was spotting, first sign. I called my sister and she told me she would come get me to take me to the hospital. We weren’t fully sure if labour had started so I told Dean I would confirm once in the Hospital and seen to.

I considered a home birth; but being so young and unsure of my body, I didn’t have the trust that things would run smoothly and did not have the knowledge of finding a doula to facilitate that process. I didn’t have medial aid when I found out I was pregnant. When we were five months I went to a doctor who said my birth at Kingsbury (just the birth and not the overnight stay) would cost us R60k. I lolled. So I went to Retreat for my next checkup, my local MOU. I hadn’t even driven into Retreat before. There was a long line already. I needed to pee. We all shared the same pee cup and the scale didn’t work properly. There were abandoned puppies outside. I remember seeing a group of very young looking pregnant girls, they must have been about 15/16. They were all standing together with their bellies. We always had to wait a very long time to see the doctor. I always regretted never packing a lunchbox and a book. The midwife would come in and do the same talk about how to put a condom on. Then we would go one by one for our HIV/AIDS test. It was finally my turn to see the nurse, I went in. “Are you still on medication?” “yes” I replied. “You will need to be transferred to Groote Schuur, you will be seen to by Doctor Bhavi”. I was transferred to our main Hospital of the Western Cape; were I would be seen to monthly by a psychiatrist as well as a doctor, to make sure my mental health was stable alongside my growing baby. They don’t issue medication at the small MOU’s so this is why I was moved.

We didn’t do much reading or birth preparation. We didn’t have the money and Dean worked during the week. I suggested Youtube but we didn’t make the time. The labour pains started as small cramps, similar to period pain. The midwives told me I would only get a bed around 4pm, so I would have to wait. We walked alot, the pain got worse but not unbearable. I could hear woman in labour around me, it sounded as though they were possessed; I was pretty terrified. I hadn’t prepared at all for this. “excuse me sister, I was hoping I could get some pain meds before things get worse…” I was ready for the drugs, the nurse told me that she could give me some morphine for the pain in a bit…I eventually got my bed, the pain was more intense now. I was sharing a space with another woman in labour, the other beds were empty. The nurse was charting the baby’s heartbeat. I asked for the meds again… “Oh no, it’s too late now”, she replied. She looked at her watch “this baby will be out at the end of my shift, 7 o’ clock, don’t worry, you’re young and it’s going fast” she said. The pain began to get unbearable; as the contractions came I would get sick next to myself into a packet and clutch onto anything I could find. It wasn’t time to push. I was exhausted.

“How long have you been on medication for?” asked Dr Bhavi. “since I was 18” I replied. I was diagnosed with Bipolar in 2014 and went off the medication as soon as I found out I was pregnant. “I don’t think you have Bipolar”, she said to me. Misdiagnosed by a doctor who refuses to speak to me now. “I am fine, I am more stable than I have ever felt”, I reply. “Pregnancy will do that to you” she said.

The labour escalated fast. My mother had suggested I suck ice but they didn’t have that kind of thing in the public hospital let’s be honest. I shouted alot at Dean. It was time to push and I had depleted most of my energy. My eyes rolling back. I knew I needed to push but it was too difficult. They told me they could see her head, I pushed. They told me her head was out, I pushed again. Then she slipped out, along with a hella water and blood and magical things. They don’t tell you it feels like a big dump; but it does. She was out, and we took one look at her beautiful face and fell in love. That’s how it always is I guess. I hadn’t realized my power up until those moments, when the afterbirth came and I saw all the nutrients I had carried for her. I stood up and went to pee after that. It burnt alot but I was ecstatic. A new kind of energy overtook and has continued through to the third year of her being here. Frances Elliot was born at 8:05pm. Weighing in at 2,5kgs.

I looked up with my new baby in my arms from the ward I was in, it was full moon then and it is full moon today. I watched the sun cover Devils Peak, gradually coming in and the moon descending. A new day, I hadn’t slept. It was all too new. She was on my chest and I left her there; where she suckled and has slept up until now. We were naked, wrapped in each other. You had arrived. It was glorious.

We received the bill for the birth about a week later, R30. R30 for the birth and all of my psychological care and maternal care covered. That’s about $2,15. I think I was so ready to judge our government care because I didn’t understand it. But there I was. Giving labour in a room with other woman in labour. Made to feel I was nothing special, made to feel a part of a bigger power. Held by everyone in the space. I am in awe of the midwives who work in Government care and have devoted their lives to every single kind of woman in this country. I was taught how to get her to latch by the other woman who slept in the ward with me, it was all their third or fourth time giving birth. Surrounded by woman who were welcoming me into motherhood. They showed me how to change her nappy, how to latch, how to wrap. They told me to just leave her on my chest so she could hear my breathing. I felt so held. That evening was worth more than R60k, sorry Kingsbury.

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Frances, I hope one day you read this. There is so much I wish my mother wrote down. You are three today. This time three years ago I was still walking. You have brought me a sense of peace that is very hard to describe but I want you to know I will love you unconditionally, forever. You are precious to us, you will always have our love and support x Happy Birthday, Mom

Our new Summer Collection, Wild Flower

A Fashion Story from the Cape of Good Hope

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“Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events half understood and half remembered…”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

 

Photographer: Paige Wood

Models: Electra Nathania & Jacqui Baker

Direction: Amy Ayanda Lester

All garments sewn by Claudine Huijser for Amy Ayanda Studios. All handpainted garments by Amy Ayanda.

 

This month, friend and photographer Paige Wood came on board to help us tell a story for our new Summer Collection, Wild Flower.

The Collection was shot at Good Hope Nursery in Cape Point South Africa, where Roushana Gray from Veld and Sea lives, runs workshops on sustainable living and promotes off the grid life.

 

Our new collection consists of our new Ramie Cotton Jumpsuit and Cotton Wrap Skirt, a new summer wrap dress and new colour ways of our timeless Georgie wrap and tote bag.

Our handpainted bags, head wraps and sarongs are one of a kind and created once off.

For the full collection of images, check out our facebook page ❤ Our store goes live soon! Look out for the post xx AA Studios

Remember, France

I cannot believe how fast you have grown before our eyes. You are utterly exquisite in your words, impulses and little songs which you like to make up for each action. I am so proud of you already and I guess there was such a huge part of me that wanted to share this with everybody.

I recently found myself in a deep reflection of who I am and what you will take from me as you go out into the world to become YOU. The world is a big beautiful scary place France… full of things that will inspire you and equally exhaust you. Fears run through my mind of how I will keep you safe from all of it but at the same time give you agency to be brave and carry things alone.

If you become anything like me, you will feel alot. And that is ok.

While I know I am strong, I also know that it is ok to crumble. While I know that working hard is important, I also now realize how important soul work is. Time to rest and recharge. Play music, dance, draw, cook at home. All the things I do already but with complete and total attention.

As trivial as this might seem; I want you to know that I will not let you have the memory of me telling my phone what I had for breakfast. Because well, who the fuck cares. This life is just too short to be wasting it the way we have on social media and honestly, I am sorry or exposing you to it without giving you the privacy you deserve as a tiny person growing and learning, taking it all in.

As I removed your photographs, there was a sense of huge relief within me. There was a sense of power and protection. While I want the world to see my love for you, I also want to be your shield while I still can.

I want you to remember that while this world is phenomenal in its beauty (which gives you even more impulse to share); it doesn’t need to be enjoyed by anyone else except you. So enjoy it. Take it in, relax, breathe. (I’m pretty sure this has become a letter to myself…) The modern world is so incredibly fast paced;I have become desensitized by the way in which we sit and watch Instagram stories or by the way we curate things to seem perfect when they are not. I have felt an incredible sense of pressure to share and it all left me this weekend. I feel relieved.

I want you to remember my resilience, my passion and resourcefulness.

I want you to remember that I love you.