Amorphous Resonance

Memories and glass have a lot in common- precious, fragile and amorphous. Glass can take on any form according to the artisan that forms it. Our memories, as well, take on unique forms as we all live our own lives. Just like glass, our memories also need to be cherished and polished from time to time to keep them glistening and resonant in our lives and future generations. 

On the table before you, lies cherished objects owned by the members of the Vox Chamber Choir- each telling their own stories of life, love, heartache and happiness. Below is a description of each of these objects for you to explore and hopefully resonate with as well. 

Object #1 - 

These bottles originate from the Vaalharts Irrigation Scheme near Hartswater, developed in the 1930’s as a poverty alleviation project during a difficult chapter in South African history. Like many everyday objects of the time, these bottles eventually found their way to a landfill outside the town. In keeping with common practice then, the landfill was periodically set alight, leaving the glass permanently weathered and softly “sandblasted” by fire and ash. During redevelopment work in the 1980s, the bottles were rediscovered and later gifted to my father, Kobus Ras, by antique collector Danie Oberholzer. To me, these bottles represent something deeply human: the paradox of fragility and endurance. Glass breaks easily, yet survives for centuries. Scarred by fire and buried underground, these ordinary objects endured. In many ways, so do people.

Object #2 - 

This bottle originally belonged to Kobus Ras Snr., who was born on a farm in the Boshoff district during the Second World War. At only nine months old, he lost his biological mother after a severe asthma attack while she was breastfeeding him. His adoptive mother, unable to breastfeed herself, used this very bottle to nurse an underfed and vulnerable infant back to health. The bottle’s unusual design, intended to lie beside the baby, features two openings that helped regulate airflow and milk flow during feeding. Within the Ras family, the bottle has become more than an object. It is a quiet symbol of nurture, resilience, and survival, and a reminder that even in moments shaped by grief and uncertainty, care can still carry life forward.

Object #3 - 

This collection of small medicine bottles were unearthed on my ancestral farm just outside Rustenburg, North West. Our family has been living on the farm Rhenosterfontein since the late 1800’s, making me the fourth generation of Robbertse’s to call this piece of land my home. We often find remnants of our family’s past whilst digging in the garden, walking on the farm and even ploughing fields. I often wonder if my ancestors were aware of these little time capsules they left for us to discover and I often wish these objects could tell me the tales of times gone by. 

Object #4 - 

Sometimes, a bond between friends can be just as strong as familial bonds. This little handmade ceramic figurine was created by me under the tutelage of my childhood friend, Nalize Buys. We grew up together, went to all the same schools, the same classes, the same university and we even studied the same course - Fine Art. Where I am more of a painter, Nalize is a ceramist. The sculpting process really took me out of my comfort zone, and it is far from perfect. The fact that it has been glazed with a layer of liquid glass only enhances its imperfections, but I believe that's what makes it beautiful. This little figurine will forever be a fond by-product of my lifelong friendship with one of the most beautiful and creative humans I know. 

Object #5 - 

This strange and colourful glass contraption sparks the most interesting conversations whenever guests visit my home. Everyone always tries to guess its function, but to their surprise, their predictions are always incorrect. This object is a vintage Galileo glass thermometer that measures ambient temperature by using the principle of buoyancy. As the surrounding liquid changes, its density changes, causing the spheres to rise or sink accordingly. I acquired this strange invention from my eccentric great aunt, who always collected the most interesting things in her overcrowded study. It always brings back the fondest memories of clutter, dust and the smell of mothballs whenever I used to visit her as a child. 

Object #6 - 

After I resigned from teaching to spread my wings and see the world working on an international cruise liner, the world came to a sudden halt on March 13th, 2020. The following day all the passengers disembarked from the ship, leaving the crew members stranded in a bubble of anxiety, confusion and blind panic. As the pandemic unfolded, all crew members were confined on these ships for a period of 5 months while repatriation plans were being made that constantly failed. Quarantined in their cabins, life seemed grim. No one knew what this virus was, how long it would last, if their family was safe, how they would get home, or what the “home” they would be returning to would look like. At that time, I was wearing this perfume - “Le Bleu” by Jean Paul Gaultier. And to this day, every time I smell this scent, it takes me back to the time I was stranded in an ocean of uncertainty. 

Object #7 - 

A nearly empty bottle of Chanel Chance holds one final drop. I wear this perfume for every concert with our choir, Vox Chamber Choir, and its elegant floral scent reminds me of the uplifting moments we create together on stage. Like live music, the fragrance is fleeting - it blooms briefly, then fades. The glass bottle becomes an impermanent vessel for the memories and magic we share in performance.

Object #8 - 

Preparing for a wedding is a season of "strange magic," defined by tiny details and the quiet awareness of a life about to change forever. Every choice feels significant as moments suspend between dreaming and becoming. Among these preparations, choosing the perfect scent—one that felt timeless and soft—became a precious memory that eventually wove itself into the fabric of the wedding day. The power of scent allows a single breath to pull a person back across the years to a specific heartbeat. Though the perfume has since been discontinued and the bottle now stands empty, it remains a "glass memory". It still carries the lingering, delicate scent of that day, acting as a vessel for what the mind might otherwise forget.

Fifteen years later, opening the bottle remains a ritual. With one breath, the years disappear, returning the music, emotions, and the promise of forever. It is a simple glass bottle that remains entirely full of memories.

Object #9 - 

Simple, colorful hoop earrings assembled by hand, each carrying delicate glass charms. Their playful design recalls the small rituals of curiosity and creativity that often fade in adulthood, while the fragility of the glass reflects how easily that part of ourselves can be neglected. Lighthearted yet delicate, the earrings become a reminder that our inner child still needs nurturance, protection, and space to exist within adult life.

Object #10 - 

Created in the style of traditional Italian Murano glass, the ring was handcrafted by local artist Marthie Wienekus. Embedded within the larger glass setting are delicate miniature flowers, suspended almost as if preserved in time. I have long been drawn to both flowers and glass; objects of beauty that are often associated with delicacy and impermanence. This piece brings those two fascinations together into something wearable: a small, luminous object that carries fragility, memory, and beauty in equal measure.

Object #11 - 

Venice, Italy, is arguably one of the most beautiful cities in the world. So beautiful, in fact, that I made a completely emotional purchase at the Murano Glass Gallery after a glass blowing demonstration whilst on holiday. How else are you supposed to commemorate your first time in Europe?! This brightly coloured floral type design is called millefiori - an Italian term meaning “a million little flowers”. An ancient and intricate technique achieved by creating multicoloured patterns within glass rods (murrine) that are revealed in cross-section slices. In this case, these “flowers” have been encased in molten glass, sealing them for eternity. A reminder of the absolute beauty and artistry that exists in the world which inspires me every day. 

Object #12 - 

These three blown glass orbs were gifted to me by one of my best friends during my time as a Fine Arts student. I was always envious of my classmates who were able to make these magical translucent orbs in the “hot shop” of the Glass Studies studio. I could never stand the intense heat of glass blowing, as I have always had a fear of fire and burning. My best friend, who made these orbs, gifted them to me after our first semester and I have always cherished them. Even more so after my friend sadly took her own life a short time after due to an immense battle with her mental health. Every time I look at these orbs glistening on my window sill, it gives me a bittersweet feeling - happiness to have had such an amazing friend, but sadness knowing that she is no longer here with us to make more wonderful memories together. 

Object #13 - 

This glass self portrait sculpture was created as a part of my final BTech art exhibition at the Tshwane University of Technology. It was created through a process called kiln moulding - where a plaster mold is formed around a wax sculpture which is then removed once the plaster has dried. The mold is then turned upside down into a kiln and filled with nuggets of clear glass. The kiln fires the glass at a temperature of 1400 °C which allows the glass nuggets to melt into every detail of the mold, resulting in the sculpture you see before you. Although I never furthered my glass artmaking career, this piece is a reminder of the time in my younger life where possibilities seemed like magic and wonder. 

Object #14 - 

In 2026, I began teaching in a makeshift, crowded room that fell far short of the colorful, welcoming space I had imagined as a student teacher. While cleaning an old, dusty cupboard, I discovered a simple, empty glass bottle that seemed full of possibility. To bring life into the room, I placed a single tiny flower inside it for their first class.

When that first flower wilted, a learner quietly replaced it, sparking a lasting tradition where students would bring in new flowers from gardens or sidewalks. Each contribution reflected the unique personality and kindness of the child who chose it. Over time, the bottle traveled from school to school with me, evolving from a simple container for flowers into a vessel for memories. Today, the bottle still sits on my desk as a reminder that teaching is built from small, repeated acts of care rather than grand gestures. It serves as a constant lesson that even the smallest efforts can bloom into something deeply meaningful.

Object #15 - 

Fairyworld Captured in Glass invites viewers into a miniature world where tiny villages, fairies, gnomes, and woodland creatures live beneath glowing glass domes. Crafted from natural materials such as seeds, twigs, bark, petals, and moss, each scene tells a delicate story of life hidden within the forest floor. Mushroom thrones, pinecone hats, and tiny handmade homes transform ordinary natural objects into magical landscapes filled with imagination and wonder. At its heart, the work celebrates the beauty of small things and the fragile magic found in the natural world. The figures remind us to slow down, to listen closely to the earth, and to treasure the quiet wonders that so often go unnoticed.

Object #16 - 

My wedding day was meticulously planned for two years as a perfect outdoor ceremony beneath blossoming trees. However, nature had other plans when a steady, relentless rain began falling early that morning. While coordinators and guests rushed to protect the details, I found a sense of peace, realizing that the beauty of the day was something the weather could never ruin. In an extraordinary display of love, guests carried chairs over their heads and gathered drenched flowers to transform an indoor space in an instant. We eventually exchanged vows before towering glass windows as a storm echoed around them. Though it was not the wedding we had originally envisioned, it became something far more beautiful—a "rain-soaked miracle". Ten years later, we  discovered that the room where we wed had been demolished, leaving only shards of glass behind. I kept these broken fragments as a reminder that blessings do not always arrive in polished forms. These shards now rest in our home, carrying memories of a perfect moment from a place that no longer exists.

Object #17 - 

There is something deeply special to me about this Venetian glass dip pen. I bought it as a teenager while touring Europe with the Mpumalanga Youth Choir, long before I imagined where music would eventually take me. One of the very first compositions I ever wrote was penned with this glass quill and ink, because I wanted to feel connected to the old master composers who once sat writing music by candlelight with ink-stained hands. I have kept it ever since. The tip has unfortunately broken over the years, but somehow that only adds to its history and charm — a fragile little witness to the beginning of a lifelong journey in music.

Object #18

These vintage glasses once belonged to my father, who was born in 1952 and wore them while he was in Grade 12, around 1969 or 1970. For years they rested quietly in a cupboard, until one day I asked him if I could have them. I later fitted the frames with my own prescription lenses and wore them myself for quite some time. There was something deeply meaningful about seeing the world, quite literally, through the same glasses my father once wore as a young man. One of the arms has since broken off, but that only adds to the sense of history they carry — a small, fragile object filled with memory, inheritance, and connection across generations.

Object #19 - 

 The story behind this green glass ball, as well as its function, is not clear to me or my family. I acquired it from my great aunt after she passed, almost discarded by the family as it seemed worthless. But, to me, it seemed important enough to keep as an heirloom. A touching reminder that not all family heirlooms have to be significant or worth a great sum of money to be cherished. Seemingly worthless objects still carry memories and meaning. 

Object #20 - 

This trophy seems unassuming, but it is in fact an integral part of Vox Chamber Choir culture. The Marianka Naudé Floating Trophy “Burning The Floor With Passion” Teen is awarded annually during the Vox Choir Camp Potjiekos Competition - an elaborate and cut throat culinary extravaganza between the four Voxtets - Team Sebastian in the Sky with Diamonds, Team Heilige Hildegard Harmoniste, Team Spanton, and the current reining champions - Team Fanny Mendelssohn Memorial Voices. Although quite serious business, this award is also a symbol of our choir’s teamwork, camaraderie, and genuine love for one another - a cornerstone in Vox’s foundation. Liefde, Frasering, en Aanvaarding. 

Object #21 - 

This brown glass cigarette ashtray stood in my grandfather’s sitting room for as long as I can remember. As a child, I always saw him using this ashtray, and over time it became closely connected to my memories of him. We shared a very special bond, and whenever I see this ashtray, I immediately think of those moments together. What was once an everyday object now holds a strong sense of memory and connection for me.