flowering in times of the Coronavirus

Dear all

So here we are where no one thought we would be just a short while back. I myself had to go through a whole process of coming to terms with the realities around this particular virus and the pandemic it brought about. One aspect that took me off my high horse was the realization that this is a time for us all to slow down, to take stock, to reflect, to act as a global collective. We have not done that well up to now. The shocks ensuing from our belief in endless prosperity were too small and the threat of climate catastrophe still too abstract for many. It took a little microscopic organism to remind us of our vulnerability, and the need to think of ourselves as part of a whole. And act accordingly.

We do not foresee much or any performing for the next five months. We are very fortunate to be ensconced in our little cottage just outside of Stutterheim in the Eastern Cape, surrounded by nature, with a large property to move around and play – even as we enter a complete lockdown in South Africa for the next three weeks. We will use this time to the full to create, to focus on things we hardly ever get the chance to do, and to cherish being together as a little family.

There is much insecurity for us all regards how this will pan out, if and to what extend we will be able to get back to normal again and how we will be able to manage all of this financially. But from our side, you can be sure of the following:

  • our online subscription service will keep running and be strengthened. this is
    • your best way to keep experiencing our performing and creativity, our views and life-stories,
    • our primary means of income during these times, and also
    • our preferred way for you to support us financially, if you so wish and are able to
  • we plan tentatively for a month-long tour in South Africa as from July-end and will
  • travel abroad in September for a shorter European as well as another Canadian tour through to December
  • these plans will be approach in a very flexible manner, taking heed of our responsibility to our own and others’ health as well as directives laid down by the various authorities
  • we will remain in touch with you all through newsletters and emails

To get back to our online service, now is really the time to subscribe. Not only will you help us to get through this crisis financially, but you will be served with experiences to keep you inspired, stimulate deeper thinking and move and nourish you emotionally. As with our performances, to achieve these things, we continuously dig into all the wells of our hearts, minds and creativity through recording, writing, drawing, filming and photographing. The extensive library of works, dating from the turn of the millennium, covers a full spectrum of emotional colours and textures. And the weekly releases bring you our most fresh aesthetic, topical and life-related expressions.

Feedback from our current subscribers are overly positive. But we do need more subscibers to make us viable during these months. And we simply would love to share our (hard) work more widely!

You have various options –

  • pay by PayPal, stop order or EFT.
  • There is the basic monthly subscription offer of $4 (US), or
  • you can choose your own amount (for those who want to give more).
  • Start directly or choose to have a seven-day free trial first.
  • To save, subscribe for a year or even three years in advance.

To subscribe in any of these ways, to view the platform (with free samples), or simply to find out more, go here.

Below find (as usual) a list of the latest releases, with the Coronavirus theme starting to feature prominently!

And right here, as an open release for all of you, we offer you one of Joke’s latest poems. I don’t want to add anything more on the extraordinary times we are living in. I want her words to have the final say.

With warm regards to you all

Francois (and Joke and the little Mira)

the flowers know

by Joke Debaere

around four o’clock in the afternoon, these flowers open up’
she says it with her hands full of groceries
I listen with my arms full of daughter

there is not much time for that fact
but while we walk down on the stairs, towards the house with view on the ocean,
my head hooks itself on those flowers

while the new virus is spreading fast & I try to understand what this means – how it might

make people more afraid, more extreme right winged, close – the – borders – we – don’t – trust – the – government – and – each – other – anymore,

while I too feel how my imagination slips every now and then towards: I – contagious – my – father – & – then – it – will – be – deadly,

while I put articles next to each other, find it unjust that people who heal – as usual, in the broadest term – get so little space,

while I too read the horror of hospitals that can not, can not, can not, can not, please go home, the dying patients –

while I carry that bundle of more or less thirteen, fifteen, kilo’s, that heap of little girl, bundle of being, bundle of hope, towards the guestroom,

the rhythm of the flowers – how do they know that it is more or less four o’clock in the afternoon – still pulls me

if the tanks come
– suppose they come –
if the end comes
– suppose it comes –

the rhythm of the flowers will stay alive

while I carry that little heap of warm hope, half asleep, downstairs,
something in me connects with their way of living

it is that knowing
that knowing, underneath and through everything and all,
that is is almost four o’clock in the afternoon



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