I just completed this painting
as a tribute to
The Birth of a Beautiful Divinity, Ajé
Ajé (The Divinity of Profit, Prosperity and Wealth)
65” x 77”
2020
is Searching For Me).
I fling open the gates of my heart
visit me, Aje, visit me.
Can you see her?
do you see her eyes,
Aje’s limitless eyes of endless gifts,
searching for your heart?
Wèrèpè má so mọ́.
Devil bean weed, stop producing seeds,
Èyí tó o so lésǐn,
The seeds you produced last season
Baba ẹnìkan ò ka.
I went to the Odo Ogbe market, Ile Ife.
The market women went, “Oyinbo, come give us a hug.”
This world is beautiful.
Arresting house. The house, because it is so arresting, led to my arrest as its owner and builder. They came to arrest the house—not just the architect.
The house is the culprit. They came to place it behind bars. They had no problems with setting the designers and builders free as long as they are able to lock away the arresting building.
Obaseki, looked cornered. He certainly was not anticipating an encounter with me at the restaurant. His shrunken face looked collapsed with fatigue. The anxiety that he was feeling was palpable. His face began to twitch. It was bad enough when he saw me entering the restaurant. But the moment I informed him that Rufus was on his way to join us, his system could no longer handle the tension. He stood up. He patted his pockets.
“What is the matter?” I asked him. “Is everything fine?”
“Oh, I was-was-just checking my—my—my pocket. For my-my-my-house keys.”
“And is it in your pocket?”
Yesterday, my friend, Femi, called from Maryland and we had a long and beautiful conversation on the art of social distancing.
He wanted to buy a painting.
I told him I was happy to sell a painting and sent him a picture of the work.
I said the painting would look good as a Zoom backgrounder—like when FOX News calls and wants your opinion.
Are you going to panic because the artless interior of your home would suddenly become exposed to hundreds of millions of people on television and social media?
A silent demolition is going on.
When I was about 8 years old, I walked from Akarabata Line 2 to Iremo in Ile Ife, a distance of about three miles, every morning, at dawn. I was attending a private coaching class that started at 6 am, two hours before formal classes began at 8 am.