AUGUST 2025 EDITION

Yes, I know — this was supposed to be a Sunday note. Life had other plans. But design waits for no one, and maybe this Monday delivery feels even more special — a spark at the beginning of your week.
That aside been thinking how, reading is an act of resistance in a society that thrives on the normalization of ignorance.
It is one of the few joys that asks nothing of you. No performance. No productivity. Just presence. That’s why it heals—it lets you exist without expectation.

The African renaissance is looming in all spheres and it didn’t just appear — it was seeded long ago by visionaries who dared to value what others dismissed. Alan Donovan was one of them. In the 1970s, he traversed Africa, gathering artefacts that were once neglected, discarded, or disparaged. Where others saw “mundane” or “backward,” he saw soul. His home in Mavoko still stands as a reminder that our future is only as strong as the heritage we preserve.

The African Heritage House is more than architecture; it’s a vessel of memory. Its form borrows from the towering mud of the Great Mosque of Djenné in Mali, the palaces of Morocco, Swahili arches from Zanzibar and Lamu, and the earth homes of Ghana and Burkina Faso. Step inside, and thousands of artefacts await — ceremonial costumes, weaponry, jewellery, textiles, brassware, pottery — each whispering a fragment of a continent’s story.

Alan Donovan’s journey began in 1970, among the Turkana of Northern Kenya. Immersed in their nomadic world, he collected art, costumes, and material culture, which later anchored his first exhibition in Nairobi. That spark grew into a lifetime of preservation. Today, the African Heritage House rises like a terracotta beacon above the Athi plains, carrying within it not only his collections but also a vision of Africa that is proud, rooted, and unashamedly itself.

The living room opens like a painting—mustard chairs cutting sharp against the green outside, the ceramic-tiled fireplace holding its own rhythm. It feels almost like home here in Africa, where our landscapes also draw grids of land and water, stitched together by horizon lines.

Wire-cut bricks curve in quiet confidence, catching light like woven cloth. This space speaks of proportion and restraint—reminding me of Kenyan stone homes where nature and walls meet without fuss, where beauty is in how the structure breathes.

Cedar cladding, marble veins, a glowing pendant like a woven sieve. The kitchen here is intimate yet expansive, echoing how our traditional homesteads cradle both fire and gathering. Luxury, pared back to touch and texture.

Adele Dejak’s work that feels both intimate and monumental. She has this way of turning everyday materials—brass, beads, even what looks like the glossy rolls of old cassette tapes—into objects that command presence. Her studio flow is fearless yet deeply rooted in our culture, almost as if she’s sketching the spirit of Africa into wearable form.
This bag was crafted from woven strands reminiscent of old-school cassette tapes. Handmade by women artisans along the Kenyan coast, it embodies memory, music, and material reimagined.

More than adornments—but sculptural statements. Forged in brass with geometric precision, they echo African regalia while remaining thoroughly contemporary. Each ring feels like wearable architecture: bold, fearless, and unapologetically African.

Her bracelets bend and twist like poetry in metal. Each curve whispers of African rhythm—drums, dance, and ancestral continuity. Worn alone, they exude minimal elegance; stacked together, they create a powerful, resonant symphony of identity and strength.

Let’s talk lighting. Not just the decorative kind, but the way light shapes a room, sets mood, and anchors design. As designers we talk endlessly about furniture, textures, colour, yet light—arguably the soul of a space—rarely gets the respect it deserves.
Think of it: downlights, wall sconces, table lamps, floor lamps, chandeliers—each one brings its own rhythm. Learning how to layer them, balance them, and work with the 4Ks (Kelvin, Colour, Contrast, and Control) can quite literally make or break a space. Lighting is storytelling, and the more I study it, the more I see it as architecture’s quiet rhythm.

With a new week comes a new studio obsession. I invite you to click on my select texture of the week image above—Sage the colour or maybe the spice that wades evil —to see what’s inspiring us this August. I’ll see you next week, my boo. x