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PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
There is an old Yoruba proverb that says “The child insisting that his mother must not sleep will also not get any sleep.” (Ọmọ tó ní ìyá òun ò ní í sùn kò ní fojú ba oorun).
Women who nurse babies know the challenge of getting enough sleep while a baby is still unable to understand the difference between night and day. The baby keeps waking up to feed, cry, poo and pee.
The mother must attend to all the needs of the baby during the night. Typically, for the mother, therefore, it is a long, wearying night.
The poor mother gets up in the morning having caught almost no sleep, exhausted and drained physically and emotionally.
Yet she must face another day of sleeplessness and ceaseless labor until the baby grows up.
Now think of the story of Ijapa.
INTERNATIONAL REVIEW OF AFRICAN AMERICAN ART.
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.
My new classroom is inside my laptop.
Today, I delivered the first two classes via my laptop to my students.
All my students, colleagues, friends and family also live inside my tiny laptop, where we shake hands, hug, and do just about anything we want. I didn’t know there was so much space inside my tiny laptop.
At the airport
At the airport and, incredibly, within this period, I gave birth to the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, the building in the background of this picture.
Another of the paintings I just discovered in my garage.
Another of the paintings I just discovered in my garage.This painting, however, has the distinction of being one the oldest canvases I have in my possession—painted in 1992. It was the painting in which I had a breakthrough. It was in this painting that I unlearned everything my teachers taught me.I realize that in life, we do not see things like a camera.
My art class before the Coronavirus.
My art class before the Coronavirus.
I dreamed about it last night–I was teaching, and there was this really brilliant student who did everything perfectly.
As I went to take a closer look at her work, I woke up.
What really happened was that I had fallen asleep with my music playing. And what really woke me up was Peter Tosh, singing,
