Rooted in the Wild: Art and Nature
- Kirsten Bamboulis

- Jun 4
- 2 min read
South Africa has a way of sticking to your heart and soul. The bush, the birdsong, the people, the animals moving through the land as if time itself belongs to them. Once you've witnessed it, it never truly leaves you. I was lucky enough to grow up inside all of it, surrounded by multiple cultures, extraordinary people, and a natural world more breathtaking than I have words for.
Animals have always held a special place in my heart. They are the soul of my art, and almost everything I have created has been inspired by the beauty of animals and the natural world around them. They are not just subjects to me. They are a language I keep returning to, the truest way I know how to express myself and the world around me.
"How beautiful is this world we live in?"
I remember days at Cape Town and Sun City, with monkeys and baboons roaming freely, bold as you like, stealing food and causing delightful chaos, completely unbothered by the humans gaping at them. I remember being woken in the early morning hours by the hadeda ibis, South Africa's infamous alarm clock, whose call carries across every suburb and reserve with an almost comedic authority. Lakes and dams with crocodiles and hippos. Lodges where the wildlife simply moved through, unbothered.
These weren't spectacles to me. They were just life. The backdrop of a typical South African childhood that is, in truth, extraordinarily lucky.

Then, as these things do, life shifted. A health condition hit me hard, the kind that forces you inward, that strips away the noise and asks you to find what actually matters. I turned, instinctively, to two things: art and animals. It was in that difficult, searching period that I began to truly learn. About endangered species. About the pressures bearing down on the natural world. About what we stand to lose.
It gave me a new outlook. Not a heavier one, but a clearer one. A sense of purpose where there had been only beauty before. The animals I'd always loved became something more: a reason to pay attention, to speak up, to keep creating. Every piece of art I make now carries that with it, a quiet hope that whoever sees it might feel even a fraction of what I feel when I think about animals and nature.
I don't think it's a coincidence that it took slowing down to really see what had always been around me. Sometimes it works that way. The world doesn't change. You just finally stop long enough to let it in. So take a moment today and let the world in.
Experience the wildlife through my art
Every illustration begins with a moment like the ones I've described here.
Come and see the world that's shaped me.