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Oyinbo drove us home from the burial ceremony.
Rufus and Felicia sat in the middle row of the bus. I sat all by myself at the back row. Nobody said a word as Steve drove slowly and solemnly through the city, negotiating the traffic with the dexterity of a spider moving through its tightly woven web.
When he was new, Steve found it difficult to drive through the city, because in Britain, they drive on the left side of the road, but in Nigeria people drive on the right side. Also, Steve found the drivers on the roads of Benin City extremely rough for his temperament.
I am pleased to announce the publication of an essay that I wrote in 2004–sixteen years later.
The journal is the INTERNATIONAL REVIEW OF AFRICAN AMERICAN ART.
The essay, on the work of Bing Davis, is titled “Flying Back Home.” I describe Mr. Davis as an “Afronaut.”
I did not use the term “Afrofuturism,” because that term was not even in theoretical usage at that time.
The Àkòdì Orisa artists did not know how to design textiles when they joined the center.
So, the first thing they did was to produce their own uniforms. We took them through the process of designing and making their uniforms, as the picture here shows
I’m building an art gallery in Austin TX.
The gallery is now nearing completion—hopefully, it will be ready in January 2021.
It’s only a modest gallery, just to satisfy the need for an African art gallery in Texas, such a great state, yet without such a gallery devoted to the art of Africa.
The architect is Beau Frail, from Florida.
The Engineer is R.D. Hammond, from Texas.
In a corrupt system
remain stubbornly and fiercely honest.
The single honest man
in a system that is corrupt
is like a tall palm tree
standing among perennial brambles,
blades and grasses. That single
palm tree will remain
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (Part Four) Obaseki’s eyes were boring into my back as I…