Sisal Tree Farm
So here we are—back in the sisal theme again. If you’ve been following my painting stories for a while, you’ll know that this is not the first time a Karoo sisal has crept its way into one of my canvases.Could it be that I was a sisal plant in a past life, given how they keep showing up in my work?🤪 Their spiky silhouettes have become something of a recurring character—quirky, stubborn, and beautifully out of place in the vast, rolling openness of the Karoo.
This particular painting was sparked by another wander around Witkrans Farm, in the Karoo near Middelburg in the Eastern Cape. I’ve visited plenty of farms in my time, but Witkrans left a particular impression—big skies, an old barn, and, of course, plenty of sisal. Yet the title of the work is not “Witkrans Farm” but “Sisal Tree Farm.” That choice is deliberate. At the end of the day, this painting isn’t a straightforward record of one place; it’s more of an imagined landscape—a blend of references, memories, and artistic license.
Why “Sisal Tree Farm”?
The name speaks to what drew me in most—the sisal plants themselves. They stand tall and dominant, almost sculptural, with that combination of toughness and elegance that I find endlessly fascinating. To me, they represent the Karoo’s character: hardy, enduring, and slightly eccentric. So while the barn and surrounding trees are drawn from Witkrans, the farm in the painting is less of a literal location and more of a space where my imagination could weave in all the elements I love so much.
Over the years, I’ve realised that I often paint in this way. I gather bits and pieces from real places and then let them settle together into something that feels true but isn’t tied to a single pin on the map. It allows me to create what I think of as “dream farms”—landscapes that feel authentic but are very much stories in their own right..
The Karoo Sisal Obsession
If you’re wondering why I keep circling back to the sisal plant, I think it’s because these beauties have such presence. In a region where vegetation often hugs the ground in tough little tufts, these spiky giants stand up with a kind of confidence. They’re survivors—thirsty, sun-baked, and still somehow dignified.
Each time I paint them, I feel like I’m adding a character back into the story of the land. They aren’t glamorous plants, but they hold their ground. They remind me of old farmers—weathered, quiet, and not particularly concerned with impressing anyone, yet impossible to ignore.
On Witkrans, these plants grew generously around the farmhouse, which meant I had the chance to study them up close—how the light sharpens along the edge of each leaf, how the plants throw dramatic shadows at sunset, and how, when grouped, they form little fortresses of spikes. It’s details like these that keep me coming back for more.
Borrowed Mountains and Imagined Roads
While the barn and trees in the painting are recognisable from Witkrans, I borrowed freely for the rest of the scene. The background mountains, for example, aren’t visible from the farm itself. They’re stitched in from further afield... because I simply couldn’t resist them. Distant Karoo ranges are like punctuation marks on the horizon—quiet reminders of scale and space. They lend the painting that wide, expansive feel that’s so much a part of the Karoo’s identity.
The road, too, is an invention. It wasn’t there in reality, but compositionally it felt necessary. Roads in paintings do wonderful things—they lead the viewer’s eye into the scene, offering a path both literal and figurative. In this case, the dusty track pulls you straight toward the barn, the focal point of the composition. The foreground shrubs and grasses reinforce this pull, guiding the eye forward and creating layers of depth.
It’s a classic compositional trick, yes, but more than that, it echoes something I love about Karoo life: the idea of journeys. Roads in the Karoo don’t just take you from A to B—they carry a sense of promise, of stories waiting to unfold just over the next rise. Yes! Its amazing—when I drive in the karoo I struggle to turn around and go back to my overnight lodging place— the next rise just draws me deeper!
The Barn at the Heart of It
The barn itself became the heart of the painting. Weathered, slightly sagging, yet dignified, it’s the kind of structure that holds decades of stories. You can almost hear the creak of its doors in the wind, or imagine the countless mornings when its doors swung open to release the smell of hay, oil, and dust.
I have a soft spot for barns and old farm buildings in general. They are the anchors of rural life—practical, unpretentious, and deeply tied to memory. In a landscape where nature dominates, these human-made forms stand as quiet evidence of perseverance. When I paint them, I’m not just depicting wood and tin; I’m paying tribute to a way of life that is slowly fading from the modern world.
A Painting of the Karoo Spirit
In the end, Sisal Tree Farm is more than just a scene pulled together from Witkrans and a few borrowed references. It’s a kind of distilled Karoo: the plants I adore, the mountains I can’t help but include, the barns that whisper of work and memory, and the roads that draw you deeper into the story.
When I paint, I’m not aiming to produce a photographic record. What matters to me is capturing the feel—that tug in the chest you get when you stand in the middle of the Karoo and realise just how big and beautiful it really is. My brushstrokes are a mix of memory, observation, and instinct, but always with the hope that whoever sees the painting will sense that same quiet awe.
Why It Matters to Me
I think part of the reason I keep returning to these themes is because they connect me back to my own roots. Having grown up with the rhythms of farm life, I’m always drawn to the way the land shapes people—and vice versa. Every sisal plant, every barn, every long road in the Karoo feels like it carries a story, and as an artist I get to retell those stories in paint.
There’s also something wonderfully grounding about it. In a world that moves so fast, painting the Karoo reminds me to slow down, to look closely at the texture of grass and fynbos, the line of a distant ridge or mountain range, or the way the light softens at dusk. These details aren’t small to me; they are everything.
Sisal Tree Farm is, in short, an imagined farm that feels real. It’s not tied to a single set of GPS coordinates, but it carries within it the essence of the Karoo: hardy plants, weathered barns, endless horizons, and the quiet dignity of a landscape that asks for nothing and yet gives so much.
Much of my work is by way of bespoke commission. Should a bespoke commission interest you feel for to email me at petebon@icloud.com