Friday, May 14, 2021

a short story - by wildetect 2009

 I have tried my hand at the short story, mostly writing to repack the periphery noise but perhaps someone might find they resonate. Experts on the subject will definetly (H?) know much better, however i prefer to dabble for me, rather than the reader.


The bird whisperer - 2009


Konraad Jacobus Smit was an intensely quiet man, introspective reflective to the point of being extremely rude. To Konraad, peripheral talk did not interest him at all. He enjoyed his own company and chose not to speak, let alone meet people. The very thought left him feeling cold and in a strange way violated. His small holding was a suitable distance from the Karoo town he chose to settle in. He never received visitors and his trips to town were short and decisive. When the townsfolk tried to include him initially, many years before, he made it known in no uncertain terms, he wanted to be left alone. So for 40 years he lived off the interest of his parent’s substantial inheritance, not knowing or caring about whatever happened to the family home in Stellenbosch and the holiday homes dotted around South Africa. Konraads parents passed away disenchanted by their only son, who was lavished with attention, only to reject all emotional advances unequivocally. From a very early age he willfully shunned all forms of human interaction. Now days the only time Konraad interacted with anyone was when he gruffly walked into the institution that had been managing his financial affairs. He cared not for the entire amount or for the wealth of the full portfolio, only for that which sustained him at present. Konraad knew exactly what was happening around him, he was aware of what was expected of him. For reasons not even fully understood by himself, he just did not want to give up his thoughts, feeling that every thought or notion was a valuable piece of treasure. A treasure that would get depleted with every word carelessly spilled from his lips.

Konraad had a mysterious gift, a gift his parents could never understand. Where did Konraad receive this gift, this strange but wonderful ability. They fathomed over the meaning of Konraad’s gift, whilst he sat silently wishing only to be left alone with his thoughts. He watched owlishly the numerous professional people who tried to unpack and unpick the sacred trove of his mind. Reverting ever further inwards into the deep dark recesses of his inner sanctuary. Simply put, his strange gift was that he could call the birds. Konraad would sit outside on the grass and make a gargling rasping sound with his throat. A single bird would flop down from the sky and land close to him, not so close as to appear startling. The bird would appear drugged and confused, staring transfixed at the source of this strange sound. Within a short space of time birds would appear from all over. It wasn’t just the shear volume of birds but the variety, all mesmerized by the strange little man quietly gargling and gasping. The trees surrounding this spectacle would become heavy with birds. Konraad would tilt his beaked nose this way and that, perfectly mimicking a clucking chicken. Konraad would keep this charade going waiting for his favorite bird to make an appearance. The beautifully green malachite sunbird would dart this way and that through the throng of feathers, its beautiful plumage catching Konraad’s peripheral vision, before disappearing in another direction or behind a more drab, dull counterpart. The sunbird perfectly reflected his own mind and thoughts, with concepts racing through his mind, out of reach. Konraad read thousands of manuals for appliances, cars, "how to books", mathematical reference material and scientific journals. He would inevitably have better ideas, more advanced concepts than the ones put forward. He zealously guarded these concepts, however, squirreling them away like a crow, to be recalled at will and ripped and pulled apart at his leisure like a giant bird of prey. He would chortle and chuckle to himself , budgie like, for improving the relativity theory or a mathematical formula. He knew he had the answers sought after by the great minds of the day, but he would not impart with his nuggets. They were safely stored in the vault of his mind, never to escape the tightly sealed chasm, never to see the light of day.
There came a point in the calling of the birds that a single sunbird would hover effortlessly in front of him, beating its tiny beautiful wings thousands of times a minute. He would sustain this moment for as long as he could, all the while staring transfixed at the tiny frail bird in front of him, taking in the extraordinary beauty of this truly magnificent bird. The 2 creatures locked in a strange frozen moment , with thousands of onlookers.
As he reached out next to him, he reflected how ironic it was that he had been given this unusual gift. He continued to marvel at his ability and the trust this tiny bird put into him, a strange cold hearted creature, like a moth to a flame. Konraad was still enchanted by his extraordinary ability and the irony as he took aim at this little bird and squeezed off a single shot that exploded the entire mass of birds into a flurry of activity. The vortex of this turmoil left Konraad with the slowly fading flapping of wings and thousands of tiny feathers , mostly green, slowly , silently drifting to earth.

Monday, May 10, 2021

poem - rise the dark age of man

Rise the Ibis with the crow,
Eire of nature they will us show.

Adjutants grow strong, await the feed,
staring wide eyes, mans rampant unchecked greed.

Diamond Tiara's, Gold ruby rings,
burning all flesh, painful red stings.

Harbingers of death flock in the periphery,
hooded creatures herald a dark, light epiphany.

Blazing red moon, controls our wild sea,
darkest day noon , we shall soon see.

The good in man shall yet him save,
from the conspirators pale rider & the grave.

Dont be hornswoggled by the impending storm,
the thunder klap signals mankind to warn.

Man awaits the end of his dark day rising.
free from his own blindness, is now not surprising.

Our vision is clear as we see beyond the dark night,
salvation is near as we walk thankfully towards light.

QJD 2017 

poem - present future past.

Empires built with the bones of others,

flesh & blood of fathers ,sisters, brothers, mothers.


Empires now revisiting the bricks of its stolen past,
foundations from pilfered flesh will sadly never last.

Sins of the fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters,
as histories bronzes now sink down in cold silent still waters.

Scream at mans mountains, built by tone deaf hands,
winds of change a blowing, a gale force fan.

Veneers of our own poise established thinking,
perforated full of holes & is now rapidly sinking.

Limbering towards our new uncertain future,
creation of which, has been our own set creature.

Frailties of visions,  pathetic greedy selfish man.
outcomes now known, we setting our final plan.

Staring wide eyes  through an impenetrable veil,
persevere forward , we can now only simply set sail.

Looking up but we all just see down,
head to feet, not sensing the divine crown.

Beneath ones skin , we see the sky,
now delve deep into ones own simple minds eye.

A reckoning is being sought from men long since dead,
metallic unfeeling eyes, current bronzed minded heads.

People now seeking justice from histories infringement masters,
hunting for past architects of this current systems deplorable disasters.

A structure built on the back of human suffering with greed,
will struggle with its longevity and will fail to succeed.

A true structure built on good values, spiritual justice & fine morals,
is a structure born from honorability, worth more than fine corals.

Remember what we learn about building structures on earth,
is that its about using honorable foundations in an empires birth.

wordsmith - Tarquin J Notsmad


Monday, November 30, 2020

Recognising basic human dignity

From time to time one has a conversation that keeps one thinking for a very, very long time, after the fact. Long before covid19,  when one could actually shoot the breeze with complete strangers and occupy ones time getting to know people, without the threat of catching something airborne and very deadly. 

I was walking architectural building plans through the municipality to get stamps from each department, to eventually get final approval . The heritage department always has very interesting characters, who actually care enough about history to actively find a job that looks to preserve it. 

So it was on this particular day many, many years ago - I had just steamed through the land usage department and then flew through the zoning department. They then sent me to the heritage department on the 14th or 16th floor - I forget now. Anyway it was one of those council rooms in the back and beyond of the municipality building, that one could sense slow history growing on the walls, on the desk and in every corner of the room. 

One would ring the bell and wait and eventually an enlightened heritage official would make their way to the front desk,  from a place beyond the publics scrutiny. It was the usual checking of the plans, the position, the erf, the suburb - either you got sent back to zoning or through to another more complicated heritage department and process. 

For some reason when all was verified and found in order, the small talk led to the topic of "recognising basic human dignity." yes I know right - rather a BIG jump from "You been busy?' to such a meaty topic. But such is the organic nature of conversation - it can spark like wild fire in a million different exciting directions. 

Well this next story is possibly well known, possibly told differently, possibly nothing like i remember it 20 years down the line. however I'm remembering the tale told me, from many, many  years back, in a heritage department office. On a very slow day, when my mind was occupied with paying bills and trying to just survive life. Really much like today, right now. So the telling of this remembered story will have holes and I might even miss the original point completely. As I said , conversations that keep one thinking for years down the line, don't necessarily remain accurate to the telling, only really accurate to my perceived understanding, which granted might be limited.

Amongst the deep history photos and heritage items the professional behind the counter started setting the scene to what I found to be a great tale. In the interests of telling the story and not getting caught up in the current climate of political correctness, I'm deliberately just going to leave out every single name, place and any information that will spark a step left riot and then take the focus away from the crux of the tale. Which remember is, recognising basic human dignity. 

Many years ago a certain very famous world museum painstakingly was collecting and had collected much art and items of deep interest and many, many  objects from a very proud, grand and once greatly established nation. A proud peoples who have been subsequently completely brutalised by the advent of a very greedy human driven new order. In the wake of such a long , over hundreds of years decimation process, much important heritage history was at risk now of being lost and in much need of being painstakingly preserved. So this very famous museum stepped up to take on this very important and expensive task of curatorship. 

Not sure if man preserves his history for the lesson of never wanting to repeat it or because he wants  to simply remember what happened - there is a difference. 

The museum spent many millions to preserve the objects in specially built glass cases , temperature specific and light deprived housings. The incredibly vast collection of items from this now decimated great nation, was staggering and took much effort and many millions to preserve on just a daily basis.

The curator of the museum , a very enlightened great nation heritage professional, who was deeply passionate about the preservation of this fascinating material was visited by the current chief of all the great nations, who's long heritage was now preserved in this great world museum. 

Now this very old great chief , shuffled into the curators office , he couldn't speak a word of English , he was dressed in the mighty clothes of his great nations legacy - passed down from father to son, over many generations, its wear was old but still very powerful to the gaze. the curator was very tempted to try preserve the incredible history on display in front of him. But instinctively knew the difference between history and the present. 

The great chief flanked by 2 of the great nations current strongest warriors, also dressed in the clothing that represented their deep heritage. Spoke in the language familiar to him and interpreted by one of the young warriors. After an incredibly detailed very respectful interaction,  the great chief summed up what he was there for, he thanked the curator for the incredible work he had done in preserving his nations artefacts. 

He deeply thanked the museum for the incredible work it had done in preserving all this valuable heritage information. But he made it known that the great spirit that oversees the remaining members of the nation. who in a vision to him,  had told him to bring home all the items of his nation in the museum. So he wanted the curator to box the entire collection , stored in several massive museum buildings, under sensitive expensive conditions, to be ready for his collection. To be taken back to the plains of his people, to be respectfully given back to the nation and the earth that had been robbed of its incredible legacy.

The curator was completely astounded - he petitioned and implored and told the 3 nations representatives it was absolutely impossible - much would be lost in the process and it was completely foolish and would never ever be allowed. The great chief just respectfully stared and like all great men, made it clear , it was not open for negotiation.

The curator and the museum immediately solicited the countries best lawyers , employed the greatest legal minds and went into a court room battle over the validity of this completely outrageous claim. The museums legal bench was loaded with the greatest current minds they could afford. the type of minds that cost many millions just to get an opinion from. 

On the day of the first court hearing the chief arrived with just his 2 warriors - he shuffled into the courtroom  and was very present with every facet of the unfolding proceedings. Through interpretation the court wrote down every word of this great old chief,  as he spoke in riddle and rhyme. And petitioned for the return of his nations deeply symbolic heritage.

The court case went right to the supreme court in the land over much time, costing many millions in the process.  Eventually a very wise judge at the very end of a very long legal process concluded that all the artefacts indeed belonged to the great nation. And should be respectfully given back to them. so they can respect and honour their dead, their customs and their people. The full cost of the entire legal process was for the museum to carry.

The museum was absolutely devastated, the curator was completely broken. The court set a day when the start of the handover would begin, when the chief with his entourage of many helpers would arrive to start the process of packing up, boxing and taking back their great nations heritage.

The designated court day eventually arrived and the chief stood in the exact same office he had occupied many months before - the same 2 warriors on either side of him. The now completely broken curator could hardly look up as he was devastated at his life's preservation work being completely destroyed. 

The chief started talking and the warrior interpreted the wise old mans words. The curator didn't really hear much, but he did notice that the chief had arrived with just the 2 warriors, as before. The curator didn't get much from the long detailed discussion but he did understand the chiefs very last few words.

"The museum can keep all the artefacts, exactly as they have done over the many years,  exactly in the current condition they reside in at present". 

At that the old chief turned to leave the small office,  the curator was incredulous - WHY!! why  did we just go through this incredibly expensive, time consuming process , if nothing was ever going to change? 

The chief,  through his interpreter said - "But things have changed! You now know that all these artefacts, belong to our great nation and not to you."

This powerful little tale , told to you from my memory of a conversation, in a very slow day heritage office, 20 years back, has got me thinking about what's happening right now. 

Do not ever underestimate the recognition of peoples basic human dignity. And sometimes its just a simple perception and perspective change that's required. A healthy change of established thinking is more powerful than the actual moving around of structures, architecture and established precedents. 


Tuesday, May 12, 2020

covid19 - behold the rise of the average Joe's, behind the curtain big brother.


To be shackled within one’s own living space, under complete house arrest lockdown, on mass, is a concept not familiar to a free minded person. However the notion of getting sick with covid19 or worse, inflicting this scourge on others, is why I’m counting my steps around my own backyard. My wings clipped, my choices now very limited, whilst I appreciate the far off distant stars and worlds through the safety of my own limited imagination. These imposed restrictions are understandably for the protection of mankind’s future survival. I for one - want to be part of that solution, I’m definitely not looking to flout the rule of law.

However this lockdown experience has created a thought process which I have never really considered before. 

Even after reading Orwell or any number of future big brother controlled worlds. I still never thought total domination by others was ever possible within my spectrum of the world.  Especially having come out of the 80's,  living in SA , where everyone knows the lessons of complete control is best never ever to be revisited. Oh, but how quickly we all forget. For me now it’s been about our own choices, the raw steering wheel of ones life choices, splintering deep into ones own hands, as you turn into the wind or go with the flow.

Now I don’t have a choice, now I’m starting to have to think outside of what I’m previously used to.  The lines crisscrossing my every path have now backed me into a very small corner of my property.

Regimes that have sought to capture man and control his every thought and movement are definitely out there, make no mistake. however when one considers oneself a free person, the concept of a regime or anyone really wanting to control and spy and watch your every move within a glass bottle, is really an alien notion. A free person, rather thinks all people would rather want to live their own exciting free lives. Pushing forward on their own, without trying to put control mechanisms in motion, to fully restrain the freedom of all others. 

Well there's a Pollyanna notion for you. simply put there are those who have no real imaginations of there own and who would really enjoy controlling every aspect of everyone else's lives without conscience. 

Its a proven fact when looking at existing controlling regimes across the world, who do exactly that. so one must never be fooled to think its not possible - those unfortunate peoples ancestors where once chartering free courses,  with life's steering wheel firmly in their individual grasp,  without asking permission to breath. Now they are fortunate to go to the privvy without asking permission. 

Now freedom is relative - we are all still governed by very important moral and natural universal laws, which in the most part are non-negotiable. And mostly these laws are respected by honourable humanity,  because they make complete sense. However there are some who flout these very important laws and sadly they will reap the whirlwind of their collective disrespect, if they are not harvesting it all in full already. 

So there is a semblance of control within the choices we make. Don't jump off a mountain - the law of gravity will lead to consequence - don't go deep under water without a tank - you wont be able to breath. natural laws  even for your extreme Liberalite. laws that simply need to be adhered to, what ever the gnashing teeth char grin of having to obey them by those who want to be free from all shackles of obedience might think. Absolute unfettered anger to the natural law of gravity, wont stop one dyeing if falling out an aeroplane at 1000 feet. (without a parachute) We clearly know its wisdom not anger that rules the day. 

What I’m talking about now here, is regime controllers or individual controllers that start to put cameras everywhere, who consider it very important to monitor all chatter and then to bring out big sticks to control those who step over the newly appointed regimes now clearly demarcated lines and newly imposed laws. What might i ask qualifies a controller? 

I was once told, I forget where and by whom - "beware , beware, of the stupid laughable military march creators, because the inevitable boot in the face is only moments away." you see at first watching the completely beyond horizontal, straight legged knees up march is very, very  funny to behold, because of the fervent discipline of marching in such a complete ludicrous fashion, until it becomes downright frightening when you look to the eyes. Always look to the eyes to see what's moving the legs.

What I’ve now noticed within these times of increased justifiable control, is suddenly people step up whom you have never ever really noticed before.  To now assume full control of the lives of the all and the many. I’m fully for making sure i don’t give this sickness to anyone, or i don’t receive it from anyone. I’m fully for pacing around my own backyard whilst the world settles down to its new norm of passive aggressive control by others. However what is going to take some getting used to, is those people that take away my choices without understanding the facts behind my decisions. Not that it’s anyone’s business, oh but suddenly it’s become everyone’s business. I’m talking about the anonymous note brigade, behind the curtain average Joe's big brother citizen.

So you might perhaps live in a complex of houses - when you step off your property,  there is now suddenly any number of behind the curtain camera judges who are quick to post your every movement, even those just to your car, on a group chat. everyone jumps to their phones in horror as you are judged and termed "prowling around the neighbourhood, inflicting germs on the elderly and the vulnerably innocent." the community of behind the curtain judges rush to their note pads to now leave very early morning notes on doors and cars,  before fading back into the shadows of the night. (I really hope they wore masks, gloves and sanitised the note left on the car - which would then align with their attempts to control others without being hypocritical) 

The real point of this is A controlling regime doesn’t appear out of nowhere, I now realise it takes time to layer its way into our periphery vision. What I'm now realising is, it is comprised of behind the scenes many invisible minders and controllers,  using the might of the average Joe's, reporting on their fellow citizens. These self elected keepers of all virtue suddenly assume control of the all and the free. The regime is slowly putting citizen against citizen, family member, against family member.  Our all valuable decisions and choices are now given over to others and we get used to these others now drawing lines in the sand that we cannot step over. we become part of the straight leg, beyond horizontal march brigade, we become overtly unanimously citizenised , beyond what's acceptable for any free minded person. as we watch our legs go straight out before us , as we easily follow suit and march with aggressive furvert into the abys of the well known outcome. 

This is all happening over and above Police enforcement. where some police enforcement is now taken out of all logical control by a few over zealous police minders. 
The new future world order norm is, one better get used to being watched scrutinised judged and found wanting. Maybe we were always watched , all the time, already - we only noticing now because average Joe's citizen , behind the curtain watcher is stupidly emboldened with face mask to step out from the shadows,  and to now anonymously slap our hands when we overstep the new imposed lines. what's next , hours in the hold for walking on the beach, A hanging at dawn for being 5 minutes late after exercise curfew, a bullet in the face for not wearing a face mask. It appears there are those who will try control your life because it suddenly now gives complete and utter meaning to theirs. 

So these are very interesting times and my future self might look back, whilst I’m washing my hands, trying to avoid the now very much needed for my own complete safety, 3D camera in the corner of my own bathroom. Whilst I await the notification that I’m a good model citizen.(extra points if I report on my neighbours and family) I will be classed a good citizen for washing my hands for the hundredth time even in isolation. my raw blistered skin held up to the 3D camera for the average Joe's on monitoring duty to send me a clapping hand emoji via text. FYI, 3 clappy hand emojis gets you a restricted cup of weak tea - because coffee will make you far to alert and to be alert is against Joe's and the minders rules - don't forget now to take your 3 red pills in the morning, 2 green at lunch and 3 yellow in the evening.  so you can relax and not think to much as you slowly drift into a Joe's induced coma and watching you snore is a fetish for some on the other side of the 3d camera.

So Whilst we try appease the anonymous behind the curtain camera note delivery big brother Joe's of the world. I might just smile because even whilst I’m washing my hands and the skin is now very raw to the bone. My freeman  mind is actually skydiving with no face mask, over the city, enjoying the uncontrolled free fall, (the irony is I'm scared of heights) Where i know, no big brother average Joe's citizen is able to ever take away my creative imagination.  so all one can say to the inevitable future is , bring it on - clip my walkabout freedom - however the freeman who lives comfortably in his own thoughts, can never have his creative imagination clipped. 

But its important to realise, that if there was a way for others to view and control your inner imaginative thoughts,  you can bet your bottom dollar - average Joe's, behind the curtain camera big brother and their sinister behind the scenes extremely dangerous minders, will definitely use it, to invade and control your creative imaginative headspace. to slap your hand and purify your thoughts with shock therapy at 2:30am, all for the protection of mankind’s future survival.

So watch out for the banded together Joe's (Judges Over Evil ' Society) marching straight legged beyond horizontal boots to the air,  down your street - chanting "we walk straight, so you better get out the way or if you dont ..................................,"  

Beware , beware of the self appointed Joe's, behind the curtain minders of all your freedom. you have been warned - 2020 hindsight will always be fraught with clarity of vision, that's if you learn to flush the pills and keep the steering wheel firmly in your grasp - splinters and all. while you deftly learn to duck and weave the smashing military boots to the face. 



Friday, February 28, 2020

wildetecture is when conceptual nature starts to fill our architectural built environment periphery vision - we might just have turned a corner on our big box , small box current design mind. sculptural architectural future. the concept of living within an architectural sculptural building is worth exploring. 




Sunday, November 3, 2019

wildetecture opens a design office in Hong Kong

We have a new chapter officially starting as of today - its now official , wildetecture has opened a design studio office in Hong Kong - so now we are taking our wild Africa / Europe inspired design studio and fusing it with incredible new concepts in Asia. brand new design ideals - im very excited to see how this experience influences our design approach.

wildetecture - Cape Town South Africa
wildetecture - Hong Kong

welcome along for the journey ------....