Crossing the national border between South Africa and Namibia held its own grim fascination; the stern officialese; the strictly formalised process of leaving and entering; the anxious faces of tourists, uncertain in this sudden existential moment, alarmed by loud stamping noises from behind a bullet-proof glass partition. It is a venerable rite of passage, approaching a nightmare, but stoically borne. Back home, I have to trust my memory to create a painted version of my journey; to re-live some of the landscapes. In doing this, I like afresh the problematic flat dimensionality of layered paint, the ambiguous order of a chaotic mess, and the ironic coolth of emotionally charged colour. I feel I have succeeded if a successful photograph cannot be taken of the work; that something is left to the intimacy of a primary encounter.
I certainly hope to be painting and showing pictures till I die. This I say to myself over another cup of milky tea. A hill with trees. The sea at sunrise. The sea almost any time of day. Blindingly bright days. Cold and bleak winter weather. The golden glow of autumnal light. All these things we can share. No-one can take this away from us. (Oh dear, I clean forgot about global warming. Shit shit shit!) Nicolaas Maritz, Darling, April 2019