(Gosh, I thought it'd been about 3 weeks since my last post on Bollemakiesie and see its more like 6, so this post is for me to get back in the saddle, instead of under it.)
Along the way, both on this blog and off, the question comes to me: what is Bollemakiesie?
For anyone curious, it literally means something like 'somersault' or 'head over heels'. It suggests joy and exuberance. Most days and certainly every week, I see something around me in Cape Town or from the world at large that makes me go wow, I'm glad that exists, I'm grateful to see that.
Some of the blogs I love contain slews of beautiful images and few to no words. And yet not all the things I respond to and am delighted about exist as images. So I expect there will be more words on Bollemakiesie from time to time. And down the line, I hope more music and sound too.
A picture may be worth a thousand words but for music there are no words.
Bollemakiesie is a uniquely South African expression as far as I know, though likely has a Dutch root. In response to being daunted by the scope and quality of the blogs I enjoy, I wonder: what can I share with you that will be worthwhile and make you want to 'bollemakiesie' too? I suspect it'll reflect more South African and African character. But not exlusively. There's too much wonderful stuff in the world to shut any out on account of its origin.
And beyond that, as this is an exploration, it will reflect a unique set of curiosities and interests. Perhaps they overlap here and there, or a lot, with your own.
Embedded in my psyche, from somewhere, is an appreciation of the charm and worth of old things. Not just for being old. But for being beautifully designed, and made to last. Or hilariously specific to their time, now vivid as oddities and reminders of change. Some beauty is simple, some intricate. Some is decayed and other fresh.
Great new design and art doesn't spring fully formed out of nowhere. No matter how radical, it is shaped and informed by what came before. Or by the inherent nature of things, which goes deep and way back. In a way then, the key is to see the timeless.
Recently, at a little bookseller on St George's Mall I found a slim navy blue book ~ Stray Birds by Rabindranath Tagore ~ printed in 1933, first published in 1917. The cover is used, almost burnished, but undamaged, lettered in gold. It has presence. One edge of all the pages is rough, the pages themselves textured with wide spaced phrases of timeless poetry . This chair, this table, this book, this tree, they are not done. They become more rare by continuing to exist as things disappear.
Very often what is 'new' is being sold or promoted to us. The flipside of this is apparent at any good flea market or second-hand store where amazing things go cheap. Living only in the new can result in everyone looking very similar and living in catalogue home interiors - the peril of the popular. Stretching the scope of your appreciation back a few years or decades expands the kaleidoscope for expressing your individuality. There is mystique in old things that suggests a different movie. Its fun.
I live in an old house, standing here more than a century. The walls are thick and my study window is set back under a porch. I seldom to never need to heat or artificially cool the space. Sun shines in during winter. And in summer, the interior is in deep shade. So when I look to build a house, I will learn from this one.
I'm excited and exhilarated by new architecture and technology but one of the 'greenest' easiest actions I take is to buy less new stuff. Ironically, much that is old is as under-appreciated as it is irreplaceable. My floors are wide planks of honey golden oregon pine.
