Unite for Parkerplace Abidjan.

Greetings to all you beautiful people and reggae lovers !
The ParkerPlace Abidjan needs you to help them survive through the Coronavirus crisis. Closed since March 18th 2020, we have no Financial support to continue paying our musicians and staff. We have initiated a solidarity chain to try to raise funds in order to assist our musicians and their families.
Twice a week, we create a live /direct show on our Facebook page- Parker Place Abidjan! Please visit , like and share. If you want to donate, this will help , 1 euro , 10 euros
It does not matter. If 1000 people give 1 euro each that makes 1000 euros and that will pay for food for one week!
Jah guide and thanks for your support !!

Just click on this link
To access the page for donating

http://www.leetchi.com/c/chaine-de-solidarite-parker-place

Lockdown New York

Here’s the story of my life during this pandemic written by Okey Uwaezuoke in today’s ThisDay Newspapers- https://okeysworld.wordpress.com/2020/04/26/in-new-york-and-smack-in-a-pandemic/

MalariaT

Returning to Lagos has been quite enjoyable in many ways. There was the fact of meeting inquisitive and familiar faces that wanted a share of the traveller’s loot, even if it is just about reliving the moments of the sojourn remembered after cold nights. There awaited one a thousand questions and a million undone things from time past. So one soared and fell through the next few weeks- happy in turns and mourning at the shortness of daylight. 

Those things aside- repeated narratives of recent history told to eager ears, there were the noises of the greatest season for the arts in Nigeria. The art fairs with their aspirations, presentations of entertainment, and lengthy conversations; the exhibitions of art and fashion running all week; a biennale even; the opening parties running concurrently in nearby joints all over Lagos- everything happening a rush as though to outdo the horrific Lagos rush hour traffic. 

Between sister’s home, seeing Kim, visiting a few friends and short stays in hotels, one ended each day with either a hangover or a sense of lost time- it is weird how there just seems to be not so much one can achieve. Burdened with more inadequacies, it is easy to lean back and glide with the blistering rush of cars and motorbikes and people. 

There was the event that split the color spectrum apart. There were the hanging and bending of lights. Color meant so much. Champagne also to drinkers. That was a chill show. This is the soothing feeling especially after a longer, exhaustive trip to a nearby venue by sea. Mildew and dim were more criteria there. Again, the teething period excuse. Color unsure.

Tinkles and dings. Fashion and so much foreign accent. Then there was this yellow evening of dancing. Seemed they turned their back to the sun and changed the location by sound. A disconnect in the tropical volume of grey and rainy days, scratching red and malaria itch. Whoring nights and blurry mornings that left nothing much to keep but numbers and silence. 

Of course something to be treasured was on every pedestal, rising or falling away. Art rules a little here, a little there. Books and Amala and gbegiri charmed to palmwine teased on foreign land. That place had promise of entrances to be gained at almost half the minimum monthly wage. Hide it in a book- white, buildings, no, anything, packed. The free choices seemed quite a treat, thank you.

So in every circus there will be that one tent that is meant for the visitor. The economics of spaces turns courtesies on a head. From Yaba to Shrine and Bogobiri or Beer Barn its Eko for show, for you and you and the Lagosian must watch too.

At exactly the center of everything comes that cube of contemplation were things want to be set right, want to stand tall and allow for a dark sky overhead. Point A to Z as eyes can see, it’s a blur only erased by the shortened distance between object and viewer. Champagne lines and ambitious entrée increase exclusivity. There were the ahss and the ooos, naturally. But again as in great advertising- every noise is good noise. So- next show.

In-between were the local festivities. This is definitely a bloated cityscape. Nothing untoward happened. It was drinks, smoking and the pleasures of everything else. There were the meetings, the goodbyes, the memoirs, and people with diaries crossing out to-do lists. Something kept all in check and suspicion. Even in partying, the professional colleague maintains his oga status like a badge of honor.  Superficial mingling and socializing, throaty laughter slurred and shaky. Libraries in memory of the dead or some rebels in cars were pictures. Big or small foot pussy in boots. We know the real loot. So the person pays with own life. They wait; they watch and are on the prowl all ways. Between popping malaria pills, play doctor and fun patient, I am not sure what I meant to say. It’s malaria typeset. Past bedtime and yet lost in resounding electric generating sets. I miss you, hotel. I can’t tell all.

He asked some deep questions.

I enjoy talking. I enjoy the stimuli of intelligent conversation. And I hope to see underlying questions in retrospective. I talk some more when asked a question. I learn from talking. I learn from sharing. Let me share this fantastic interview with Omenka Online, the magazine for the Ben Enwonwu Foundation. Oliver Enwonwu, the son holds the grounds very well. He is also the President of the Society of Nigérian Artists.

Here is the link to my interview- https://www.omenkaonline.com/tony-nsofor-on-language-the-subconscious-and-the-mundane/

Flying over the Confluence in Oguta

We all love a good spin. From childhood, we are taught lessons through stories. The Igbo hyphenates stories- we are good with proverbs. From Achebe down, some of us have been able to expand and weave stories that elaborate on the meaning of these proverbs. Maybe that was how we had the birth of the African novel. The African folklore is full of superstition, mystery and scientific phenomena, which get easily misinterpreted. We swallow it all, hook, line and sinker! The story of the Oguta Lake and Ulashi river confluence is an example. We as natives love the idea of being custodians of such a wonder of nature. One such story is about how the deities of the two bodies of water that doesn’t mix (in a logical way, at least) are a couple deity of the husband Ulashi and wife Ogbuide who quarrelled over something I can’t remember. Does anyone ever really remember the beginning of quarrels in supposedly long-term relationships! Anyway, the two deities fight is still ongoing, and the waters can’t mix. Till date, I haven’t heard of any human who went swimming around the confluence. Maybe it will get on National Geographic one day, though the terrain is in the Niger-Delta area where militants patrol. From the novels of the renowned author Flora Nwapa, we get glimpses of Oguta and the Lady of the Lake, as devotees call the mermaid. Recently I acted in Agwaetiti Obiuto, the movie adaptation of Onyeka Nwelue’s Island of Happiness. The novel opens with this line-

Every year, thousands of people travel to Oguta – a town in the heart of Imo State to ride across the Lake, where there is a Confluence.

The stories around the Blue Lake are many. There is a tradition of throwing a coin into the Lake as a prayer for a peaceful and rewarding journey to the other side. There are days when the worshippers of the Lake Goddess do not go to fetch water; and there are stories of sightings of Ogbuide the water mermaid taking on the form of a beautiful, long-haired woman to visit the local markets. I must have heard some of these stories in a half-hearted way. The memories are deep-seated in bedtime stories, where the child drifts off to fantasyland or Neverland. Such stories brought dreams of me swimming through the lake at top speed like the man in the series The Man From Atlantis, and more recently like Aquaman. Some of my happiest memories of childhood were lived in festive periods in Oguta with all the family members present. My father taught me to swim by throwing me shoulder-high from the ferry into the lake, and watching me struggle to stay afloat. That was how I learnt to swim. Yearly, a seasonal flood swells up the lake and submerges our farmlands on the other side. Animals like hippopotamus, manatee, crocodiles and other deep-water animals have been cast to shore. The devastation of crops causes a yearly economic disaster that spreads through the shores of the Niger River, where Ulashi connects. Houses by the lake get destroyed also. This tragedy is felt in most of the communities of the oil-rich Niger-Delta regions of Nigeria. Unfortunately, the undocumented landscape makes it difficult to dispatch search and rescue teams or provide aid to farmers who are locked away from land by the swell! Yearly, people die when the floods come. Also, the destruction of farmlands causes an increase in the price of food crops in the village. I have wondered so long about how the confluence in Oguta will look from the sky. When my drone went up from the shore where our boat berthed, the camera revealed an amazing landscape that hasn’t been explored. I am excited at the thought of flying closer to document these and other landscapes all across Africa. With my camera and drone, I must delve deeper. The boat will help give access. Water is everywhere, leading down to the Atlantic. It’s a beautiful landscape, and my village is a great tourist destination. The homes are ordered nicely and line up by properly made roads.  But I must warn you- all the great infrastructural developments like electricity, and pipe-borne water that was enjoyed many decades ago is now non-existent. You are welcome to visit my family house (the bright ceiling at the crossroads beside the big, partly burnt field in the drone shot of my village above). We will swap places at starting the electric generator every day to charge our gadgets and cool drinks in my small fridge. I think we can give you a week of pure fun here. We will have a picnic daily at the lake, swim and visit the confluence. We will also see the shrines of Ogbuide and Ulashi. Oguta is calling. In some ways too, it is a cry for help. Things have to get back to shape. There was a time when holidaying there was the trip. Now it is more adventure than chill.

Click here to purchase Flora Nwapa’s masterpiece Efuru- https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Efuru&i=stripbooks-intl-ship&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

The picture above is from a scene in Onyeka Nwelue’s movie Akpaetiti Obuito. I am pictured (backing the camera) being confronted by the corrupt community leader.

Also, Onyeka Nwelue’s book- https://www.amazon.com/Island-Happiness-Onyeka-Nwelue/dp/1983955434

Blind to the Beauty

How can Oguta remain like this? We have this little paradise waiting to be cultivated. But we all run away from it for selfish gain. We turn our faces away as the waste of daily living is dumped into the lake. We fear to swim in the beautiful Blue lake because we have dredged deep into the heart of the earth. We fear for what lies deep within the troubled waters. The lake lies wasting in the dying sun while we are making plans to replace it. We return home with forex to build our shallow swimming pools in our backyard, and empty the dirty waters into the lake. Why won’t the lake be mad, and carry away the children of erring parents? Why won’t the forsaken lady seek her revenge? The water lily grows long and serpentine underneath, dancing in the slow waves, waiting. Nature will pay us back with what we give to it. Who will swim in the lake with me? The dredger in Umudei village. The litter at the shore. No one swims in the beautiful lake anymore. They travel on it to the neighbouring villages to trade. They stack bags of cassava pegged to the bottom of the lake for days, washing away all the cyanide and smell. That is why our akpu does not smell. That is also why Ihu Ohamiri stinks. But we are happy when we eat our cassava. You would think that you are eating pounded yam. The lake carries away all the stench.Every Christmas now, a church holds an end of year crusade in Mgbidi, a village on the road to Oguta. Their members wear this fluorescent yellow coloured posters that burn the eyes in the harmattan dryness.It is long since our people went mad. The ancestral gods have gathered dust at the corners. Worse, they are now firewood at mother’s kitchen. We found a new religion. We also found oil. Now nothing else matters but these two… not even other natural resources that our fathers lived on. No, oil is king. On Eke, the traders line up to buy produce from those who live across. Oguta people do not farm around their homes. Our farmlands lie on the other side of the lake. So Oguta looks more like an estate without greenery. The local governments in Nigeria have lost their autonomy. The state governors control the local governments. The people at the grassroots live with their waste, they live without social amenities like electricity and pipe-borne water. We live on borehole water that we must make to survive. We are our own government. We are no government. We know no government. We do things our own way. There is no way we can continue this way. We are blind to the beauty that is ours. We live like strangers in paradise. This is the new history we are writing for the children.

The Family House

Our home in the village sits at the crossroads where 3 roads meet. So it must be a magical place to live in. I remember waking up on some mornings to find a basket full of sacrifices on the road. My young friend Nonso is a thriving native doctor. I must ask him why this is important. The sacrifices seem to have reduced, since I put a strong searchlight in front of my house. I needed to light up the area, as some young vandals had come to steal the battery from the NDDC solar lamp post. Apart from playing soccer, people come to the field of Trinity High School to learn to drive. I have taught some friends on this field. The cattle sellers drive their cows to graze here also. From my vantage point on the second floor, I drew inspiration for some of the images in my series of paintings A Thousand Cattle, Two Hills. As night falls, people come there to smoke weed, etcetra… The vast space has allowed me to enjoy working on larger canvases. My latest canvas cannot even fit into the door to my studio, so I have to paint outdoors. I am free here. The spaces are for flying. The air is light. The lake is nearby. This is truly home.

About Uche Edochie and Tolu Aliki

I wrote this essay for the catalogue of Uche Edochie and Tolu Aliki’s amazing show HALFWAY THROUGH A THOUSAND MILES. If you saw the exhibition, I hope you find convergent views. If you didn’t, I hope you see some of it through my words. There is colour, there are pure colours and light in the window of art called Nigeria. It is fresh and strong. Read on.

Uche Edochie, Conversations II: School Fees, acrylic on canvas, 2018Tolu Aliki, The Elect and the Electorate, acrylic on canvas, 2018Witness- An account of Two Contemporaries

One can’t talk about the artwork better than the artist himself- his artwork is the first and original statement! It is a more daunting task when the artist also writes about his work. I will start by avoiding descriptions of individual pieces in this exhibition. Tolu Aliki and Uche Edochie share from their souls, presenting telling self-portraits. Let us enjoy the evidence before us- exuberant outbursts of colour celebrating life in its various nuances! Halfway through a Thousand Miles is a visual narrative of the journeys of two artists living in Lagos. History, destinations, aspirations are explored in a probing manner. There is the light humour, and then the melancholic palettes! The journey of life is about halfway gone and both artists share the limelight. There is no faulting the craftsmanship.

Aliki studied Mass Communications and spins titles like Colors of Passion, Intimate Moments, the Good Life, Shades of Love, etc, all thematically situated in sensuality and a heightened enjoyment of the finer things of life. The intention tends towards perfection, his cunning to erase traces of the method of application.

As the curator, Edochie sees ‘an unexpected beauty in the …heroism of (Nigeria’s) citizens’. His paintings are psychedelic flows that surprise in the transitions between two colours, keeping the palette fresh and airy. Edochie’s working experience is in 4 phases- the first two relate to art practice while the last two revolve around sexuality and relationships, topics that receive more hush treatment (unfortunately) than they should in these climes. Both artists compliment each other. On the one hand are the mature dark nuances of colour; on the other, we have the pastel, graphic colour of a dandy! So this combination works. Well. Even before he graduated from Art School, Edochie knew what needed to be done. He started to fill in the gaps in the interpretation of his work, writing at every opportunity. For both artists, Colour is applied as a labour of love. Colour is theme and light creates other illusions. Aliki brings his signature childlike stylization of form and use of pure colour to contrast the extravagant splays of Edochie’s strokes verging towards a dangerous, passionate cadence. Aliki’s work playfully, yet emphatically holds attention in its stylization of form, while Edochie masterfully weaves explosive colours through bodies making them shimmer like beings stepping into celestial lights.Tolu Aliki, Half full or Half empty, acrylic on canvas, 2018Uche Edochie, Dark Places II: Doubt, acrylic on canvas, 2018

The creative person lives with the fear of not communicating, of being misread! Fine art allows such an engagement with the audience. The picture is an open plain. In the pieces in this show, both artists explore the human condition and political narratives, a tendency that logically comes with maturity- the growing awareness of responsibilities, of family, of leadership, of leaving something worthwhile behind. The works presented insist on celebrating the resilience of the Nigerian spirit trying to get ahead despite the bad press, despite the daunting living conditions. The artists spin tales as witnesses of all that is good about Nigerians. In these climes, they find an eager audience willing to grab at anything that will increase the value of living here. The artworks are autobiographical and homemade. The viewer sees forms woven in emotional and emotive poses. Then there are the standalone portraits on flat backgrounds. We trudge through the dismal Nigerian life, with the strange energy of people driven by the baking hot tropical sun, flashing teeth bared in laughter (hopefully).

The connection is immediate. Back then in Nsukka, Edochie delighted in his eye for details, revealing objects as though with bionic vision. Life and its toll happened, and the artist sees all reality in shades of psychedelic, opium colours. The business of life must be taken face-up. Aliki responds with flat planes of pure colour balanced in contrasts that regale in the two-dimensional surface. And yet the brilliant colours insist on making subconscious connections with the viewer. The firmness of his hand is without a doubt.

One has to tread softly through the hall full of impassioned, sometimes raging colour. Life is the fierce performance without beginnings or end, a journey eclipsed by unfettered optimism that charges the space. The journey of a thousand miles must be taken, one step at a time. Or you miss the suggestions. Art flirts flatter and provokes all life. But we live in an age where Time and Space has been transcended in many ways. Halfway through looking at the works, one feels a familiarity. Tolu Aliki and Uche Edochie are our contemporaries. But there is the individuality of experience that should be investigated. There is so much effusive brilliance. There are the dark notes. The audience must speculate on this.

NB: THIS ESSAY IS FEATURED IN THE CATALOGUE FOR UCHE EDOCHIE AND TOLU ALIKI’S EXHIBITION HALFWAY THROUGH A THOUSAND MILES. This exhibition closed on the 14th of October, 2018. Follow Uche Edochie and Tolu Aliki on Instagram for more stories and pictures of their works. Also, the works for this show and other works by Uche Edochie can be found on http://www.ucheedochie.com.

Artist’s statement

Power Play and Other African Stories (for the exhibition Ballot Boxes and Beasts of Power)

DSCF6391wTravelling through Africa has familiarized one somewhat with the slow induction into native life. Being Nigerian, I already carry a baggage and move under the shadow of an uncomfortable stereotype. Thus, engaging with Abidjan, dissociating with negative stereotypes, while reviving an artistic practice is hard work. When I started painting, I kept travelling back and forth virtually. The Internet brought daily stories from home. I see a clearer picture of our troubles- leadership and corrupt political practices have hindered Nigeria for too long.

Ballot Boxes and Beasts of Power is mainly an exhibition of paintings about votes, power, leadership and politicians; and how their lives affect everyday life in Nigeria. On the one hand are the almighty politicians who turn to monsters in their quest for power; and on the other, I represent the most vulnerable people affected by the tragedy of leadership in any society- the women.

Discovering supply chains for my art materials took some time. At some point, I sent and bought materials from Nigeria. All the tools must be in place, at hand, before I start working. It is a performance of classical music where each instrument is ready and waiting for its time to be used. I am the composer, stringing thoughts with media, creating forms and marks. It is a delight when the only thing on one’s mind is to paint, to use media, and be affected by each media’s peculiar qualities. I try to explain this as part of the reason for the stylistic variations in my work. Each medium has properties. I have the mindset.89fb104c-ea9d-4ea0-b738-076ede3decf4 2

From trying to make sense of the reasoning behind party defections (where politicians who may have spoken glowingly about a political party the week before, suddenly turn round to castigate and disassociate from that party); to inspiring the masses to vote out these politicians whose integrity seems wanting; another body of work has been created with a view on 2019, the year for the next elections to choose a new government.

The antecedents have been unpleasant. There is a general perception that the government of the day has failed the common man. In the news in Northern Nigeria, you hear of Boko Haram maiming, kidnapping and sacking villages, of armed herdsmen perpetuating similar acts in villages in the middle-belt, destroying farmlands unchecked by an inefficient security service. The government response after some of these attacks is that these marauders and terrorists overwhelmed the security personnel on the ground.

Yet the nation could spare 33,000 security personnel for a state governorship election in Western Nigeria, a region that is deemed peaceful and away from all the violence in the news. The election has been reported as rigged, and the results from that election are being challenged in court by the opposition who claim to have evidence of rigging, ballot box snatching, intimidation of voters by security personnel, etc.

The stories from Nigeria are enough to keep one engaged. Staying in the moment, being contemporary means engaging actively in the stories of one’s times. It is documentary narrative, investigation and protests against the ills of the society in which one lives. The paintings in Ballot Boxes and Beasts of Power follow the news closely like daily commentaries on the state of the nation. Keeping up often becomes difficult when one has taken on the responsibility of playing out the drama. Art graphically illustrates. My work reads like the popular cartoonist Mike Asuquo’s illustrations, only in a much more robust abstract style. Also, the ambitious sizes of some of the pieces (some are over 8 feet wide) are in another league.

My work is dark humour, satire and a comedy of sinners and their casualties. Distorted bodies fill the space; sometimes these monsters have no feet- referencing the unguided, selfish and self-sustaining defections. In the series, I use sections and angles to suggest the cuboid of ballot boxes. Limbs appear and disappear irrationally into folds of cloth; tortuous colour is applied in rapid succession to suggest the mad furore of the season. As the series developed, it became more and more necessary to introduce women, positioned as vulnerable victims of dirty politics. They keep the family unit together and protect the infants from an unfamiliar, unfriendly world of adults breaking moral codes wantonly.

Thus it was easy to create works around my earlier series- Women of Nigeria and A Thousand Cattle, Two Hills series, as all these were contributory effects and implications of the power games in Nigeria. As the stories and body of work for Ballot Boxes and Beasts of Power grew, one felt freer to sit back and absorb the real present- the landscape of Abidjan poignantly rendered in some watercolours and a huge canvas. This distraction was a breath of fresh air, like a swimmer reaching upwards while fighting the waves of a fast flowing river.

Then other works about the people of Abidjan, the men and women happened. One’s interactions and struggles learning a foreign language have left impressionable marks. The vivid stories allowed one to rethink past sojourn in other African countries and the reception from some of the natives of those countries.

A rebranding of Africa is pertinent. The pre-Independence fathers of Africa spread the gospel of Pan-Africanism. At the dawn of independence of many African countries, they developed policies that presented Africa as a beautiful bride to the world. Post-Independence, Africa has suffered myriad wars, genocides and other turmoil caused by the uneasy unions of nations created by colonial masters who mainly seemed to be mapping their real estate. The chaos of peoples of diverse nationalities having to share, to be subjugated, has led to conflicts, despotism, and nepotism and corrupt practices that mired the image of Africa. Making sense of experience as a visitor means taking into cognizance the collective history of Africa- post-colonial past, slavery, colonialism and bad leadership. Formal education and the news media have strongly shaped the retelling of the story of Africa. African history has been negatively impacted by these two forces, seen in some quarters as agents of a perpetual colonialism on the continent.

DSCF5123As Chinua Achebe earlier said, Africans must begin to write their own stories. This idea is similar to what Uche Okeke, member of the Zaria Rebels and founder of the Nsukka School proposed in his essay Natural Synthesis. We should all go back to our traditions and use what we can to represent our contemporary existence. It is Sankofa, the Ghanaian word that translates to ‘go back and get it’. My series A New African History has been affected by some of these ideas, by firsthand experience in teaching and discovering that the educational system may not create the kind of positive mindset that will lead to an African Renaissance and self-sustenance of individual talent.

Then came the hugely popular Marvel Comics Movie Black Panther. The story of an African Hero and democracy resonated well with an international audience that has been tired of all the negative press about Africa. For me, that movie only scratched the surface at the potentials and opportunities for using the African image to change perceptions. My New African History series starts by celebrating real-life African heroes like Sundiata, Mansa Musa (Mansa Musa Travels), the pharaohs, civilizations and cultures like the ancient Benin Kingdom of Nigeria, the great walls of Zimbabwe, Timbuktu etc. In my travels to Francophone Africa, particularly in Senegal, some of the renowned scholars delved deep to make archaeological research to substantiate evidence of a glorious African heritage.

This body of work is only evolving, and of course one needs to dust history books and investigate the gaps in the narratives told by either missionaries or colonialists who communicated their response or perception of another culture.DSCF5329w.jpg

Galerie d’Art Houkami Guyzagn is housed in a three-storey building that includes rooms for artists at the top two floors, a bar/lounge on the first floor. There are a restaurant and gallery space for exhibiting artworks with offices. As the date of the opening of this exhibition draws near, my interactions with collectors, artists and other patrons of Galerie Houkami Guyzagn has enriched my understanding of the Ivorian (and my knowledge of French, hopefully) Suddenly my work veers towards painting portraits, making notes of the beautiful landscape of Riviera 2 with its undulating landscape.

The residency has been a rewarding period of artistic exchange and assimilation. My excitement can be evidenced in the large body of work created in the short time span. Other ideas are trickling into my subconscious, some of which I am working on tentatively in the collages. I also realize that any new work may not necessarily be the most powerful. But the beginnings are the best parts of the journey. The accidents are more, and there is much more passion. Stereotypes have not been formed yet.

My head is full of stories, of probing questions, or suggestions. Sometimes I present troubling images, sometimes screaming images. The energy is my blood flowing out in the plastic medium of painting. I am responsible for my actions. As a human, I own all the weakness you see. I present all the force of brilliant colour. Bear with me. My story is full of tears from thinking back to the motherland. Half the story has not been told. But I have started somewhere. Let’s see how you continue in the conversation.

The exhibition Ballot Boxes and Beasts of Power opens on September 13th at Galerie Houkami Guyzagn, Abidjan.