In the early hours of 20 November Mr Koos Malgas, of celebrated connection to the Owl House in Nieu-Bethesda, died in hospital in Graaff-Reinet of complications following a stroke. He was in his early sixties.

Quite a bit of debate, often contentious, has centred around the extent of Koos' creative contribution to the Owl House. Some say that he did all of the physical work in the Camel Yard, others insist that Koos did not do much more than mix the cement for Helen Martins. It always appeared to me that Koos was forthright and unequivocal about the work that he had done. But is the question really that important? I feel that the most remarkable aspect was the extraordinary collaborative relationship, the creative synergy that grew between the two of them. They worked together for about twelve years and they peopled the Camel Yard with over 500 sculptures. This is evidence alone of the success of their collaboration and their dual determination to carry it through. Koos always remembered with fondness the way that he and Helen would sit over coffee and discuss plans for the latest sculptures.

One has also to recognise that their relationship stood in contrast to the harsh racial divide of the sixties and seventies - and even compounded that by threatening gender propriety. Just as the Owl House questioned conservative notions of what constitutes art and creativity, their association tilted at, and for some, even symbolised a confrontation with social bigotry. A worthy cause somehow made more appropriate by the fact that this was motivated mostly by a stubborn determination to get the artistic job done.

For all its vaunted spirituality and ethereality, the Owl House is also a monument to commitment and truly hard work. To fully comprehend the phenomenon of the Owl House one has to imagine not only Helen Martins' own traumatic story, but also the previous remoteness and isolation of the Nieu-Bethesda community. Today it is easy to cruise into the village, to flick on a light or hitch to the internet. In those days Nieu-Bethesda, which had been defeated by the Depression, missed out on the post-war boom as the town was literally bypassed and eclipsed by the growth of larger centres such as Graaff-Reinet. The village shrank and poverty spread. Physical and spiritual isolation gave rise to the Owl House but also dictated the circumtances under which it was made.

A couple of years after Helen Martins took her own life in 1976, Koos left the village in search of work. He wound up in Worcester where he found a fairly good store-keeping job with a hardware company. He married and started a family. In this time, the Owl House went into decline, was later 'discovered', and then steadily rose to prominence as a national heritage. A support organisation, the Friends of the Owl House, located Koos and persuaded him to return to Nieu-Bethesda to maintain the Owl House.

This was the situation that pertained when I moved to the village in 1993 and shortly after became involved in the formation of the Owl House Foundation. The Foundation was created to administer the Owl House by legal arrangement with the owners, the local municipality. When I was appointed curator in 1996, this was primarily with a view to effecting restoration procedures. At about the same time, Koos was already having trouble with his health and he decided to retire on a disability pension.

But, thankfully, that was never sufficient cause to keep Koos from the Owl House. So, for a couple of years I worked, with Koos as 'advisor', patching and fixing many of the figures that he had built. This created circumstances that he met with remarkably good humour. I would inevitably insist that whatever the state of the sculpture, it would have to be repaired. Koos, though, had made the thing to begin with and was quite prepared to tear it down and make a new one. I know that my insistence on restoration did not really make sense to him and, admittedly, did not always to me. But he would always diplomatically assure me that if my tortuous methods did not succeed he could make the work much stronger the second time around. To be sure, he and Miss Helen had had no idea that they were building for posterity, and their resources had been stretched to the limit.

While we were working, Koos was continually interrupted by the steady flow of visitors. Despite the fact that a chest complaint made it difficult to talk, he was always informative, engaging and entertaining. He also managed to develop a considerable industry in replica owls with which to support his extended family. After Koos found it too tiring to come to the Owl House many of the visitors would ask directions and seek him out at his home. Such was his renown.

So, wherever the story ends and the myth emerges, Koos Malgas' name is correctly and irrevocably, and if you will pardon the pun, cemented into the history of the Owl House. And, as with many of our cultural treasures, Helen and Koos' Owl House stands like a beacon in our historical passage.