Self portraits

In my experience you don't want to be drawing or painting yourself. The resultant picture will, by definition, be posed, and thus lack the sort of vibrancy and vitality I try to achieve when drawing others from life. However, there were a few rare occasions during my two years of military conscription between mid-1979 and mid-1981 when I found myself with enough privacy to turn the pen on myself. These are the few images I have managed to ferret out.

Somewhat the worse for wear (both me and the picture), I frankly cannot recall where or when I did this, but it would have been during the latter part of the 18 or so months I spent at 1 Intelligence Unit in Kimberley. My recollection is that this would not have been done in a mirror, but rather from a reflection in a pane of glass.

Here the eyes seem to have "that look," as Tim Rice wrote in Jesus Christ Superstar, "you very rarely find - the haunted, hunted kind".

Again working on a piece of military-issue lined paper, I think I would have done this during one of those relentless nights on guard duty. After wading through the large drawing, again done from a reflection in a window, I would have knocked off the two quicker ones below for a bit of fun, and the end result is no doubt better.

Again, I pore into the depths of my soul during guard duty.

The reason I'm so sure these were done from reflections in windows is that in this drawing you can actually see some sign-writing on the outside of the glass. Written in reverse - it's meant to be seen from outside - what is visible are the words, "Navrae" and a bit of the English, "Enquiries". I rather like the mood here, with the great coat adding an interesting dimension.

Just to show I wasn't that self-absorbed that evening, this is from the same set of pages. It shows a colleague on guard duty with me that night, reading. I enjoy the hand with watch. Note, too, the beret tucked inside the shoulder strap (I'm sure there's a name for those things!).

In the scrapbook

I can still only temporarily escape from those first two years of military conscription. In an Eclipse scrapbook, which I bought for R1.05 in 1980, I've found pictures which encapsulate my semi-freedom. There are drawings done on the Bonza Bay beach, but also more done at 1 Intelligence Unit in Kimberley. In most cases I have had to crop the large pages due to scanner constraints.

These quick sketches were clearly done at my beloved Bonzies beach while on pass - which entailed an 800km hitch-hike from Kimberley home, and back again about three days later. Note the woman on the left in the bottom drawing, with a wave peeling off behind. Those long stints in the army certainly made one appreciate all the more the wonders of the female form.

I rather like this quickfire drawing of a dog on the beach, which was at the bottom of the previous page, but had to be scanned separately.

While too tightly cropped, I still think the atmosphere of people on horseback enjoying the sweep of the beach is nicely evoked here. Doesn't the top horse have an interesting circus look to it?

I can't remember at all when I got to sketch this young African boy, but I do notice what looks like a bar stool in the main picture. I managed to merge two scans for this.

The drawing bottom left is of a carving I did from driftwood. This is probably the only record I have of the thing before it at some point lost a section. The remainder lives in our dining room. I find the visual correlation with the cat quite interesting. The young black boy seems to still be around, too.

But the liberty of the weekend pass was all to short-lived. Here I am back with the lads in that Kimberely bungalow.

This oke, from Durbs, would probably not forgive me for forgetting his name, which may come back to me when I least expect it. He was a delightful character, apparently forced out of active duty due to an absence of kneecaps!

This one had to be cropped too, so something of the same guy is lost at the bottom. Note how with a few swift lines I got the pose of Mr McIntyre at the top.

This is Mac again, including typical Durban slipslopped feet.

In this study of a sleeping Peter Bain I think I have, more clearly than anything previously, depicted the interior of a typical army bungalow. Note the steel cupboard, which had two sliding doors, and the steel, fold-up type bed. The pillow lines add an interesting touch.

I must have got hold of some pastels, or perhaps charcoal for the top drawing, which contrasts with the finer pen lines below.

Ja, that charcoal, or whatever, certainly lent itself to bold lines. That's Mr Bain on the right, thumb raised. Not sure of the other oke.

Another study of okes all seemingly willing the days away until liberation - but always aware that after those initial two years came a further two years' worth of "camps" spread over 10 years. What fun.

What working with felt-tipped pens does is make you use fewer lines, with each making so much stronger an impact.

I can picture this oke like it was yesterday. The vertical line of a "kas" is clear on the right.

Radically cropped, the guy on the right loses something, but I had to include this, which I drew while okes were watching squash at that Kimberley base.

The Hobnob

In my previous posting I suggested that I had reached the end of my two years' military conscription (1979 till 1981) in so far as I had recorded events in my sketchbooks. I had not counted on Noddy's Drawing Bollocks. This notorious little junior drawing block, bought for 75c, followed me around for a while, judging by its contents, and one of the places it went was The Hobnob while on pass. This was the "ladies' bar" at the Bonza Bay Hotel. Sadly, this historic hotel was flattened in the 1990s, and with it a treasure trove of memories, and the heart of Bonza Bay as a little coastal hamlet nestling against towering, milkwood-covered sand dunes.

I doctored the drawing book's cover rather naughtily. The dates, 80/81, were added far later when I tried to pin down exactly when I worked in the book. The following are some of the drawings I found in it.

The Hobnob was the alternative option to the Bonza Bay pub, a men's only drinking hole where generations of Bonza Bay's finest whiled away the hours. For us, as young adults, the Hobnob was where you got to chat to the chicks. This looks a lot like my brother Alistair, or AB, and he seems to having some success with the lady.

Two more quick sketches, again in the somewhat too thick felt-tip pen, of AB, who died prematurely in 1996, aged 41.

Among the manne who frequented the Hobnob was Peter Thesen, who at the time was just launching his Numbers disco in East London. Today, 30 years on, it is a thriving business.

I've racked my brain, but can't remember Carl's surname. He went bald quite young, but was the last to let such a thing get him down. I last saw him playing for a band at Club Foot on the outskirts of Grahamstown about 25 years ago.

We must have taken a break from a Sunday lunchtime jol at the Hobnob and hit the strand, because this seems to be an elderly couple taking their pooch for a drag.

Another of the young set who frequented the Hobnob. I can't quite place him.

Definitely AB again. He used to think he resembled John Denver, with his large-framed glasses.

This is a view across the bar counter, it seems, of someone seated in one of the dozen or so cubicles that lined the perimeter of the venue. Down some stairs was a restaurant, the Family Tree, and outside in a passage was a large family tree of the Church family, who owned the hotel.

This seems to be a general view of people eating in the Family Tree.

I'm fairly sure this is a guy who arrived at the PE Tech art school soon after me, called Lyndsay van Blerk, also sketched at the Hobnob. My brother Ian bought some of his serigraphs which were powerful anti-apartheid statements, including images of the infamous BJ Vorster.

A few lines capture a few people around the Hobnob bar.

A right old toff, with his wife, at the pub.

Another mystery man sketched, no doubt, while I too got through several frosties.

Then, a sudden switch. We're back in Kimberley, at 1 Intelligence Unit, and this guy in our bungalow was, as the days got fewer, letting his true nature come out. Here he is applying makeup, while dressed in some tight-fitting stuff. I had forgotten about this rather amusing interlude. To the okes' credit, obviously gay members of the HQ company were accepted without any qualms.

The aforementioned guy, seen from the back, with some sort of slinky top. The one on the left is probably not too amused.

This, I suspect, includes the same dude and his pal. I have worked in some shading lines for fun.

This may not be related to the preceding drawings, but the ou on the left looks familiar.

Back to that gay performance, which I recall had us in stitches. It was just so incongruous having this effeminate oke acting out in a totally un-military way.

Same old place, familiar old pose. It seems I never tired of sketching people parking off.

That bold, black koki pen caught a few more okes in familiar pose.

Yet another oke wedged between steel "kaste".

Something different. Here a few lines caught this skinny oke (probably Mr Selkerk, mentioned earlier) leaning forward, possibly to check out something he was being shown.

The same "Bluebottle" legs - I've just been listening to the Goon Show - with more characters seen about the bungalow.

This disgruntled dude - note the little knee bumps - seems not too chuffed with life.

And finally, some black faces. At least that's what it looks like. I can't recall at all when these were done.

Another guy with a profile that does not seem Caucasian.

I rather enjoy the sense of space in this ephemeral drawing of okes outside.

Incredibly, having clearly spent some time doing this, I can't remember it either. May have been the entrance to the HQ.