Well my daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to Ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze
Now, I don't blame him 'cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue"Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk
It seems I had to fight my whole life through
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue"Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean
My fist got hard and my wits got keen
Roam from town to town to hide my shame
But I made me a vow to the moon and stars
I'd search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful nameWell, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry
I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew
At an old saloon on a street of mud
There at a table, dealing stud
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue"Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye
He was big and bent and gray and old
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' How do you do!?
Now you gonna die!"
Yeah that's what I told 'emWell, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beerI tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smileAnd he said, "Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
And I know I wouldn't be there to help ya along
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong"Yeah he said, "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do
But ya ought to thank me, before I die
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
'Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "Sue"
Yeah what could I do, what could I doI got all choked up and I threw down my gun
Called him my Pa, and he called me his son
And I come away with a different point of view
And I think about him, now and then
Every time I try and every time I win
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name! Yeah

De collage van foto’s die ik heb verzameld gaat ook meer in op voorwerpen waarbij voor mij herkenbaarheid naar boven komt, herkenbaarheid naar thuis. Koffie en theemoment staan voor de gezelligheid en momenten dat we samen aan tafel zitten en gesprekken tot stand komen. De eieren heeft vooral een verwijzing naar het weekend, samen aan tafel ontbijten (vandaar ook de tafel in het eerste werk wat een belangrijke functie heeft voor mij). De deurklink de plek waar nieuwe gezichten en bekende gezichten achter te voorschijn komen voordat ze zich begeven in mijn thuisomgeving. De weilanden natuurlijk zoals ik al eerde benoemde de omgeving, de rust en ruimte om mijn huis.

What makes a place a home, where do you feel at home, and have you ever felt like your home has disappeared?
“Home is a place where when you arrive, they have to let you in. When estate agents are […] trying to sell you a home, you say to them: ‘No, a home [is something] one has, what one wants to buy is a house’. So, there’s a sentimentality and nostalgia implicit in the word ‘home’ – as I suppose shown clearly in E.T. with ‘Phone Home, Phone home’ – which makes me a little bit weary.

Where does one feel comfortable and at ease in the world? [For me it’s in] many different places: in the physical home in which I live in, in my studio – which feels like home – and in the context of collaborators […] where there is the ease of contact, of communication and familiarity, of not being on your guard, that makes one feel at home. 

Conversely of course, in South Africa one is much less at ease at home than one is when traveling abroad. There’s a sense of danger at street corners, around the house at night: a product of the violent crime levels in Johannesburg. Which means there’s a vigilance associated with being at home in Johannesburg […]. Which is why, when sometimes arriving in a European city where one can walk the streets at night and spend one’s time in outdoor cafes, one feels: ‘Ah, this is what home could be.’”