Nala.

She opened the first sketchbook at eight years old. Koko Mapula, her grandmother — a seamstress in a village between Polokwane and Mokopane — saw the margins of her school notebooks filled with lines and repetitions. A teacher called it obsessive scribbling. Koko called it patterns, bought her a dedicated sketchbook, and told her to keep going. That sketchbook still exists. It's on a shelf in the Maboneng studio, alongside thirteen others.

Fourteen sketchbooks. Fourteen years of patterns.

What's inside isn't tattoo sketches — or not only. They're systems. Geometric patterns that grow from a central point, branch out, get complicated, and resolve. Some fill entire pages with thousands of dots, one after the other, no continuous line. Dotwork before she knew dotwork existed. The first pages have irregular, separated, clumsy dots. The last pages have the density and precision of someone who's spent half a lifetime training her hand not to shake.

The matte finish eliminates reflections. On a wall with direct natural light — a north-facing living room, a hallway with a window — it doesn't compete with the light: it absorbs it. The portrait details are visible at any hour. The studs, the texture of the denim, the ear hoops.

Unframed means you choose. You can hang it with mounting tape, wooden clips, or a frame you already have. Or take it to be framed with something that fits your wall. The rigid tube protects the print during shipping. When you open it, lay it flat with something weighted on the corners for a few hours so it settles.

In **Paper and finish** you'll find the substrate specs. In **Print sizes** you'll find the available measurements. If you're unsure about the size, the practical rule is to measure the space where it'll go and leave at least ten centimeters of margin on each side.