What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
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Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
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.
The burial ceremony was brief.
There were many more people than I expected. It was the first burial ceremony I ever attended in my entire life. Scores of nurses from the school of nursing were in attendance. All of them wore dark glasses and white uniforms. They looked like angels. I didn’t know many men were in the nursing profession. They stood together in the blazing son, men and women, some wiping their faces with handkerchief, others lifting up their glasses and dabbing up tears.
AFTER THE CIVIL WAR
When the civil war officially ended in Nigeria in 1970, a different type of civil war began.
It is what you may describe as the asymmetrical civil war: the war by the desperate and poor against all others in the country.
Welcome to the new world.
It’s not going to look like your father’s world.
So, this lady came to the Àkòdì Òrìṣà, and asked the women artists working there, “What are you people doing here? What is this place?”
The curator said, “Madam, this is the Àkòdì Òrìṣà, and as you can see, we are working.”
OSUMARE: RAINBOW GALLERY
At the Akodi Orisa Sanctuary, Ile Ife, we have just completed the Rainbow (Osumare) Gallery.
The Rainbow is the mixture of fire and water blazing with luminous intensity across the middle belt of the sky, affirming the unity of all colors, all peoples, all races, all tongues, all hands and heads, committed to the principle of creativity.
I once visited a rich single lady living in a gorgeous house with the most amazing furniture.
After we ate, I felt relaxed and we started a great conversation, with expensive wine served in elegantly shaped goblets.
That was when wahala started. The expression in her eyes changed. She became slightly alarmed.
“Would you mind not placing your leg on the table?” she requested softly.