pksukati

My work lives at the intersection of UI/UX design, web design and visual storytelling, increasingly shaped by how AI is reframing the design process itself. I believe design should feel like it was always meant to exist.

The Sukati system is my design philosophy made manifest, a language of form, precision and deliberate mystery.

What began as a university application portfolio is now a personal endeavour consisting of creative direction and media.

Hieroglyphics draws inspiration from personal interests such as music, film and history. The name is a direct reference to Ancient Egypt and the messages left by our predecessors, embedded into what are now considered artifacts.

Their ability to immortalise their art is something deeply admired.

Hieroglyphics is exactly that — a form of posterity, a visual manuscript to our successors.

Short term lending in this country arrives wrapped in urgency, asterisks and numbers that only resolve once you have signed. BRGD's whole position is the inverse: state the number first, and let the applicant decide before anyone asks them to trust anything.

The wait is real. Eight to twelve weeks pass between a signed offer to purchase and registration at the Deeds Office, and for that whole stretch the seller keeps servicing a bond on a house they no longer own, holding proceeds they cannot reach. The money exists. It is simply somewhere else. BRGD advances against that gap: ten thousand to two hundred and fifty thousand rand, paid within twenty four hours, settled by the transferring attorney on registration.

Every design decision follows from the first paragraph. The rate is on the home page, not in terms: one rand twenty per thousand per day. The worked example is the least flattering one, a hundred thousand over thirty days repaying a hundred and three thousand seven hundred and fifty. The credit provider registration sits in the hero rather than the footer. Where competitors sell speed, BRGD sells arithmetic you can check before you are near a form.

Since 2023, Monday and Thursday evenings have been reserved for a sacred gathering. For those two hours each night, strangers from different cultural and racial backgrounds become brothers, bleeding for each other on the turf. Names matter less than the shirt you were handed. For those two hours the battles fought on the field become shelter from the battles waiting off it, a place where the week is set down at the touchline and left there until the whistle. The Hills Premier League app was built to steady those sacred sessions.

A timer that keeps kickoff honest. A window that opens and closes for matchday attendance. Rules and regulations that hold the league to its own structure. A table that updates itself the moment the final whistle blows, visible to any spectator, from anywhere, on any device. What was once carried in memory and argued over in the car park now sits written, settled, and shared.

Before there was a system, there was a signal. My sister, an editor whose cutting room craft has shaped work for Amazon Prime and Netflix, taught me that taste is inherited long before it is earned.

To design her portfolio was not a brief. It was an honour, and a blessing. The student inscribing a chamber for the first inspiration.

This website is a token of gratitude. May it hold her work the way her work has held me.

Before this was a commission, it was a friendship. A close friend became a client who paid my craft the respect it hopes to earn from strangers. Her work is the quiet labour of holding a hand and mending a heart. My own is living proof of that.

Her private practice is physical evidence of faith, determination & self belief.

The task was to create a digital sanctuary. A place to arrive, to breathe, and to begin. 𓋹 May this site reflect her work in mending the hearts of strangers. Consider this my thanks for the one she mended in me.