The Man.
The Man.
I was going through a bunch of old drawings and happened upon this 2016 drawing I did during the summer.
It is The Man.
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HOW TO DEVELOP A MUMUCRACY
HOW TO DEVELOP A MUMUCRACY
My friend in Nigeria said she is starting poultry.
She said she would just buy a couple of hens, feed them, and daily she would collect eggs from them and eat them.
“Impossible,” I said. “The hens would attack you and poke out your eyes.”
II
II The doctor is Seyi Ogunjobi, an artist in residence at the Obafemi Awolowo University’s Center for Cultural Studies. He has been assisting me to build the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ. At the exact time the police was storming the construction site of the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, Ogunjobi, a Leeds doctorate in creative arts, was moderating a discussion in the lecture theater of the Center for Cultural Studies, at the Obafemi Awolowo University campus. Part of the seminar series of the center where Ogunjobi works, his duties include hosting the seminar series, at which invited guests presents on a regular basis. Yesterday, Ogunjobi was moderating a seminar that I presented, titled, “Invisible Canvas: Painting as Performance in Ile Ife.”
Post-Naija Flip-Flop
Post-Naija Flip-Flop
We are now in a Post-Covid Era.
It doesn’t mean that the Covid is over. It simply means that our lives have witnessed the ravage of this virus, and we are still here to talk about it.
Can we say we are in a Post-Naija era?
It doesn’t mean that there is no Nigeria any longer. It simply means that we have witnessed the ravage of this virus and we are still here to talk about it.
LET THERE BE SOME QUIET, PLEASE
Could the Christians in southern Nigeria please help us in reducing the environmental noise pollution level in the region?
It is impossible to do any serious intellectual work as Christians yell and scream on their megaphones and public address systems from their churches every hour of the day.
MY NEW WIFE
I met Antonia at a wedding party in Akure in 2011.
The wedding party was inside a high-end hotel, where the big politicians and rich people stay when in Akure.
My friend who was a commissioner had given me a room in the hotel, because I was writing an exhibition catalog, and needed a place with good internet service and constant power supply.
Road rage
“Oloriburuku! Were! Olosi! Alakori!” Road rage yelling coming from all angles.
I am covered in sweat as I sit patiently behind the wheel.
The AC of my truck has broken down. And the automatic window winder is not working. But my sweat glands are working.
