The Story Behind Ayanda: One of Three Sisters in the African Queen Collection

Sometimes, the most meaningful pieces of art emerge not from planning or foresight into a collection but from moments of pure creative instinct. Such is the story behind my latest piece, Ayanda – the third in what has unexpectedly become a trilogy of sisters.

Where It All Began

The African Queen Collection has been an evolving journey for me, one that is experimental and driven by a desire to create something new. It began with photography, then evolved to incorporate paint overlays – including oil, acrylic, and spray paint – all working in opposition to create something entirely new. The first African Queen was born from this experimentation, followed by Purple Reign, where I began adding more embellishment with acrylic paint and gold metallic leaf.

But I had no idea where this series was heading. I didn't even know if there was a series. Sometimes I think that if we see the end before we begin, we channel ourselves into predictable outcomes. Collections like this tend to evolve naturally, guided by the response of those who matter most – friends, family, collectors, and supporters who aren't afraid to tell you when you're on the right track.

Enter Ayanda: The Third Sister

When the second piece was also quickly acquired by a collector, I felt compelled and motivated to create a third. Three sisters – identical in looks but each with her distinct personality. And so Ayanda was born.

These three younger sisters now form a unique subset within the broader African Queen Collection. Looking at them together, you see the same face, the same essential features. Still, each tells a story with a choice of clothing and colour variations, although maintaining the vibrancy of Africa. Each carries herself differently through colour, texture and style.

The Vision Ahead

Over time, I believe this collection will expand to include eight sisters – three identical, like Ayanda, Zinhle, and Thandikwe, and the other five, differing in age, with their unique features. This is what I suspect will happen, but who knows? Maybe the creative art of uncertainty will reveal a different path.

What strikes me most about this journey is how organic it's been. From the first experimental African Queen to Purple Rain, then the departure into pure painting with Eliza, and now this unexpected family of sisters – each step has led naturally to the next, guided by instinct rather than plan.

Ayanda represents more than just the third in a series. She's evidence that sometimes the most profound artistic discoveries happen not when we're searching for them, but when we're simply following our creative instincts wherever they lead.

The painter in me, it seems, has finally found his voice alongside the photographer. And these three sisters are just the beginning.

Warm regards,
Martin Osner

The Turning Point: Eliza

The real turning point came when I painted Eliza. Curiously, she wasn't even intended to be part of the African Queen Collection initially. She emerged from a completely different project – a collaboration that would challenge everything I thought I knew about my artistic boundaries.

In mid-2022, my daughter Samantha and I were working alongside Ramzi Mansour, a friend and renowned international photographer we were representing at our gallery. We were drawn to his female portrait studies and felt he could bring something special to our stable. Ramzi, being the visionary he is, suggested we present a substantial joint exhibition, together, all three of us.

In preparation, we found ourselves hunting for a venue. Eventually, we settled on a large hall that needed to be customised into a gallery showcase, including lighting, display units, and the works. A perfect location for a three-way show featuring Samantha Lee Osner, Ramzi, and myself.

Now the challenge was curation. How to create cohesion between three different artistic approaches? Ramzi had his fine art photography, which he had spent a considerable amount of time working on, sorted. Samantha decided to work with mixed media – using photography as a base with layers of paint on canvas – to create her stunning Précis collection. But now the big question, what would I then showcase?

The Bold Decision

I've always maintained that I'm a painter trapped in a photographer's body. Standing in that enormous space, I made a bold decision: I would step away from photography entirely and paint the exhibition from scratch, using photographs only as reference.

The theme we'd chosen was "Memoirs of Light," and I decided to focus on memories of yesterday, positive memories that carried emotional weight. This led me back to my childhood and to Eliza, who was far more than just a live-in housekeeper to our family. She was our second mother, the one who cared for my brother and me while our parents worked full-time jobs. She fed us, tended our scrapes and bruises, and was there for all the moments that matter in a child's life.

I painted Eliza as I remembered her when she was dressing for church or family gatherings, resplendent in her Sunday best. Starting with her face, I worked slowly, methodically, sometimes doubting whether I'd finish in time for the exhibition. But once I captured her essence, confidence flowed, and within weeks, Eliza had come to life on the large aluminium canvas one and a half metres in height, the medium I chose to work on for this show.

From Eliza to the Sisters

After the exhibition's success, I found myself with a leftover piece of aluminium and an urge to continue painting. I put it on the easel and began another African female portrait study – what I thought was simply a continuation of the Eliza creative process.

But this time, I wanted to explore the vibrancy of African life through colour. Moroccan hues of yellow and orange are offset by colours of blue, green, and turquoise that capture the sunshine, the ethnic richness, and the very essence of a culture that pulses with life. As I worked on her face, that familiar self-doubt crept in. But then came that wonderful moment every artist knows – that bubbly sensation in your stomach when you realise something is working.

When I was two-thirds of the way through the painting, an art collector saw it and purchased it straight off the easel, unfinished. "That's mine when you're done," he said. There's nothing quite like that validation, that immediate recognition of value in your work.

Inspired by the success of the first piece, I decided to paint a second, this time for our gallery. I kept the facial structure identical but changed everything else. When finished, looking at them together, they have very similar, almost identical facial structures. The first became Zinhle, painted on aluminium, and the second Thandikwe, painted on canvas. Side by side, they worked beautifully together.