Nieuwoudtville is a quaint, otherworldly little town sitting squarely at a biased crossroads in the middle of immense fields. The main artery is the very ordinary R27 leading inland from semi-coastal N7, up the escarpment, across the border between the Western and Northern Cape provinces and into the Karoo proper, towards Calvinia. At about a right…Details
Morning came, light slowly oozing into our tent’s quiet darkness. The wind had long exhausted its last breath and with that, new weather had moved in, warm and cloudy, casting a pale veil over the land. I took a thirty minute round-trip walk down to the park’s ablutions block, lucking out as the sun briefly dashed out of the cast to…Details
But, for now, I am trying to shake a cold loose and get a hold of my runaway time and spirits.
This was shot on Tafelberg Road at the foot of Table Mountain, Lion’s Head is in the background.
Growing up in the south of France, I think I might have taken flowers for granted. As a kid I never doubted their supremacy and thought they were as intrinsic a part of nature as clouds and oceans. Québec, I knew, mostly lacked said flowers, but I assumed that was an exceptional stigma brought on by…Details
One of the major rules of branding is that once an image is created, and it had better be a strong one, we must be very, very careful about any subsequent changes to the look. But since I am no Coco-Cola or Nike, I can afford to bend the rules. I love designing – not always very effectively – new logos and styles, so I make a point to change often.Details
This weekend’s run was a partial repeat of one I had done many years ago, along the southernmost flank of the Brooklyn mass. I rode the R subway all the way down to its conclusion in Bay Ridge, warmed up to the foot of the gigantic Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and launched into my return home on…Details