A Tie in the Desert: When Croatian Diplomacy Meets Karoo Sheep

The early morning departure from Pofadder carried the weight of discovery. We had spent valuable time at Pella, collecting reference material like precious stones from that dusty hamlet where South Africa's dates grow beneath desert palms. As we made our way back toward home, the urgency was simple: reach familiar ground before sunset painted the horizon.

Halfway between Pofadder and Keimoes, something in the landscape demanded we stop. Here was the true semi-desert of the Northern Cape, not quite Karoo, not quite anything else, but distinctly itself. An old farm gate stood sentinel beside a dirt road that stretched toward a distant windmill, where sheep had gathered for their necessary drink in this arid terrain. The scene held that particular quality of light and space that defines the vast interior of South Africa, where distance becomes a character in every composition.

The windmill turned lazily in the afternoon breeze, and the sheep moved with the patient urgency of creatures who understand both drought and survival. This was material worth stopping for, worth capturing another fragment of the land's endless story rendered in dust and shadow and the geometry of necessity.

Some time after returning from that journey, an unexpected invitation arrived from the Croatian Embassy. They asked if I might consider donating a painting to participate in a world tour art exhibition promoting the origins of the necktie, which they proudly claimed originated directly from Croatia. The proposal intrigued me, though it required investigation. How does one incorporate a necktie into the language of South African landscape painting without compromising the integrity of either?

The answer lay in that scene between Pofadder and Keimoes, with those sheep gathered around the windmill in the semi-desert light. The composition began to take shape: place one sheep at the farm gate entrance and drape a tie around its neck, subtle enough that the vast scale of the South African landscape would remain the primary voice, while the diplomatic requirement would be quietly satisfied.

The painting evolved through careful consideration of scale and placement. The tie needed to be present but not obvious, integrated into the scene rather than imposed upon it. In the grand theater of that Northern Cape vista, with its endless sky and patient earth, a single sheep wearing a necktie became both absurd and somehow fitting a gentle commentary on the unexpected ways art serves diplomacy.

At the first exhibition opening in Pretoria, I was met at the door by a Croatian diplomat. As I introduced myself, he broke into uncontrolled laughter. My questioning, confused expression prompted an explanation: he and his colleagues had spent considerable time studying my painting, searching for any connection to neckties. Much later, they discovered the small tie draped around the sheep's neck at the farm gate entrance.

That reaction was precisely what I had hoped to achieve. The painting worked on multiple levels, as a legitimate landscape capturing the character of the Northern Cape's semi-desert region, and as a subtle diplomatic gesture that rewarded careful observation. The sheep with its unexpected formal accessory became a quiet ambassador between two very different worlds: the practical realities of South African farm life and the cultural heritage claims of a European nation.

The success of the piece lay not in making the necktie prominent, but in allowing it to exist naturally within the broader narrative of the landscape. Like so much of South Africa's story, the most interesting elements often reveal themselves only to those willing to look closely, to spend time with the details while never losing sight of the vast context that gives them meaning.

That semi-desert scene between Pofadder and Keimoes, with its windmill and gathering sheep, had served multiple purposes: as artistic material, as diplomatic bridge, and as reminder that inspiration often arrives through the most unexpected channels. Sometimes a simple sheep at a farm gate, wearing civilization's most formal accessory, becomes the perfect metaphor for art's ability to connect distant worlds while remaining true to the essential character of place.

The Croatian tie exhibition toured the world, carrying with it a small piece of the Northern Cape's vast quiet, wrapped around the neck of a sheep who knew nothing of diplomacy but everything about survival in arid land.