CLIENT: CIRCUS NINJA / THE BINDESCRIPTION: VECTOR ILLUSTRATIONYEAR: 2006
The Bin in Cape Town was a truly magical place. Blaise was the proud owner of one of the freshest independent shops the Cape Town streets have ever seen. Not to forget the hard work of Pierre and Cecil. The Bin was an institution.Above is a limited edition I did with Blaise's clothing line Circus Ninja. It was eventuall printed on a burgundy coloured fitted T.The Bin closed is no longer, and I think Paul White from Headline Payoff summed it up best in his piece Requiem for a bin:
I'm doing my internship just around the corner from where The Bin used to be and I walk past it every now and then. Actually, I have always tried to not walk right past it, rather to walk on the other side of the road or take a detour because it's been too devastating to be too close. I walked past it today and I felt such intense sadness. Outside, the painted bins still stood, not even in order. What the fuck is "IB"? I asked myself and where's the "N"? Yes, the building has been given a new coat of paint and it's now the home office for "Filcon projects" whatever that is (good luck to them in whatever it is that they do), but it just looks so empty and unlived in.
I think what makes me so sad in my soul is that The Bin was such an intensely creative space and now it's gone. I remember chip rolls from Cape Malay Takeaways with Rudi and Blaise, lazy Sunday afternoons drinking beer out of paper bags, real people and a real attempt to do something differently. Christ, this feels like the end scene of Titanic, when Rose walks down the staircase and there standing in front of her is everyone who was on the ship.
There is Kronk, crazy-talented nutball that he is, lying on the floor with his head in a box, screaming about something or other.
Just to his left is the hugest fucking block of polystyrene I've ever seen in my life, complete with ninja stars to throw into it.
In front of a writhing Kronk and a huge polystyrene megalith, Pierre aka The RCM is sitting at his computer, designing his little heart out, protected by his fedora and blazer.
I reach my hand down to touch the couch beneath me, it's one of those kind of brushed, silky feeling couches – with one of the strangest colour schemes I've ever seen in my life. The other couch has been painted and redecorated in typical Bin style, Warren Lewis typography deluxe.
Brian and Filipa from Fly On The Wall are also here, Brian laughing manically as we discuss which jungle animal we would most like to be and complain about not being able to tie bumble-bees to strings.
In steps Blaise, long-haired, moustachioed impresario of this entire circus. Wearing a worn out vest and some shorts and looking like some permanently smiling Satanic ringmaster, he and Rudi (wearing his trademark white Converse Allstar lows and skinny jeanpants) light cigarettes together and smoke inside. Inside! No fucking PC bullshit here – this is The Motherfuckin' Bin! Put your cigarettes out on the fucking floor if you want to.
Downstairs, Justin is lovesticking all over the place – painting on the walls and manning the till when he feels the need, thick-rimmed glasses flashing acknowledgement as we cross eye-paths.
Liam Lynch, everyone's favourite photographer (say otherwise and you'll have a skinny-jeaned horde ready to tear your eyes out, spit on them and stand on your ultra-clean shoes) arrives. Hair flaming in the sunlight, arms all squidded out, mind razor sharp, he slides in and the conversation takes an altogether more serious and possibly metaphysical turn. Taking pictures here and there as he feels the need, as if it's the most natural thing in the world (which to him, it is) more cigarettes are lit as the conversation rolls on.
Where are Jack and Rose when you need them?
What a team of people. What a ragtag cigarette-smoke-sodden collection of South Africa's creative future. I am honoured that I was able to interact with the people, the space and the time that was The Bin. No one was perfect, but that was cool. Everyone was talented. Perhaps for me, the best way to sum it up is, "it was the kind of place where people only wore their sunglasses when it was sunny."
And you know what made The Bin such a great experience? The fact that I haven't once mentioned the fact that it was a shop. The Bin was a meeting place for like-minded people, where whatever was cool was what you decided it to be.
To all of you who were involved in The Bin, thank you. Thank you for creating a place where Hp really felt at home.
Godspeed you black rubbish receptacle,
Paul (Hp)
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