10.21 — 12.22

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INSPIRED BY THE FEAR OF BEING ORDINARY

We are the outcasts that broadcast the future in the present. We exist outside of convention. No box fits us. No leash can bind us. We are the products of the voices in our heads they told us not to listen to. We never conform. Sometimes we whisper. Sometimes we shout. Both powerful in equal measure.

Ourworkisalovelettertothebelievers.

Anartisticaurevoirtothedoubters.

Cultish®anti-est.2020.

Promised Land

OCTOBER 2021
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

FEAT. BABY DAIZ

Stripped of choice, without direction / They manipulate us with engineered affection / The foundation of their truth built on sand / We’re never getting to the Promised Land / Unless there’s a rejection of the lie / The lies / Cut ties that bind the blind / Severe the hands that sow self-doubt / Compulsion to self-sabotage rooted out / Trip the feet that march us to a grave / Graves into gardens, gardens into glory / Write your own story / Once prisoners of false prophets / Now free evermore / We rise / We soar.

FEBRUARY 2021
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

FEAT. BLXCKIE

Generation Next What an awful fate, to be buried, alive, in a coffin of convention. To be a slave to an idea that crumbles to dust under thoughtful scrutiny. To deny self, as an act of selflessness. Here is the tribe of beautiful turbulence. The ones who embrace memory loss as a superpower. They remember to forget the toxic teachings of the past. The ones that make all things new. Here is the collection of catalysts. The ones that move in purpose, not circles. The ones in control, but are impossible to control. The ones who are flawed, yet at once, flawless. Here are the fearless few. The ones who speak death to self-doubt. The ones that have burnt the coffins built for them, and planted themselves in the ashes.

APRIL 2021
PARIS, FRANCE

In neon matrimony, till death do us part. We’re a disaster. A monsoon in the city. An eternal wasteland. Pinned to the floor. Unshakeable. Immovable. Quivering. A tidal wave at the front door. Invite it in. A beautiful disaster. Mistress to nothing. Chains around our necks, and rings around our fingers. We are the New Romantics.

JUNE 2022
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

FEAT. FHATUWANI

You are an outlier. You are a disruption to the status quo. You are an electric charge to humanity’s heart. You are other. Set fire to the spaces you occupy. Burn them down and rebuild them beautifully.

Make the familiar feel new. Take the past and inform the present. Create tomorrow, today. Don’t shrink for the nay-sayers. See with your eyes or feel with your soul. Never conform. Shy convention, and rise.

JULY 2022
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

FEAT. KASHCPT

Cut. Rip. Sew. Cut. Rip. Sew. Submerge. Strip. Add. Art. Cloth transformed to manifestos of individuality. Declarations of identity. Constitutions of creative autonomy.

DECEMBER 2022
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

¹In the beginning was the art, and the art was with us, and we became the art. ²Through us, all things were conceived, delineated, and brought into being. ³In us was the light; that life breathed into coterie. ⁴The light shines through the culture, and the culture carries it on.

OCTOBER 2022
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

Welcome. Kick your shackles off. Hang your taught beliefs on that hook.

Want a drink? We’re serving liberation on ice. Make yourself comfortable. Our home is yours. We’ve got some friends coming over. We think you’ll like them. We know you’ve been through some shit. They have too.

DECEMBER 2022
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

Tag, you’re it. You’re the convenors of counter-culture. The antidote to stolen autonomy. Anarchy in a velvet glove. Deaf to dogma. Your mark left on the wall, on the world, in the world. You’ve tagged their hearts, and vexed their souls. They’ll never forget you.