Happy Valentine’s Day
Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends. I love you all minus none.
Me, here, painting away on a beautiful Valentine’s Day, seven years ago.
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Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends. I love you all minus none.
Me, here, painting away on a beautiful Valentine’s Day, seven years ago.
I laff so-tay las’ night my head fall commot my neck.
And I’m not making up this story.
My Chinese friend called me and said her friend, Tunde, who lives in Canada, wanted me to tell her the meaning of “Cat” in Yoruba.
“Why didn’t Tunde just tell you what ‘cat’ means in Yoruba himself?” I asked surprised.
What is Male?
Who is male and who is female?
It all depends on time and space, as my father told me just before he joined the ancestors last year.
About two weeks to his transition, my father called me and said he needed to tell me something important.
KING CHARLES:
The light is awful! Ha! who comes here? Are my eyes seeing double? What is this strange object in our bedroom? Camilla, do you see what I see? Are you for real? Speak, you apparition, trying to scare a new monarch!
EGUNGUN:
Ayam Egungun, the Ancestral Spirit of those your ancestors named Southwest Nigerians.
KING CHARLES:
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil?
Henry Drewall, the philosopher of sensiotics, wrote a couple of days ago that, “Moyo mi owon — you have turned pain into paint…for us to see and feel….”
He should know. Sensiotics is the archeology of feelings within the human sensibility.
This painting shared here is about the pain and joy of departures and arrivals, as one of my Transatlantic Series: in 1992, I started it in Nigeria just as I was relocating to the to the United States, where I completed it.
YORUBA DISINFORMATION IS MUNGO PARK
This morning, a friend of mine who is a professor at a university here in Texas woke me up with, “Hey Moyo, what is the meaning of Yoruba?”
This professor called me on WhatsApp video.
Disinformation is as old as the human tongue.
Let me take that back.
Disinformation predates the human tongue.
Disinformation started with the body language of making signs.
When you smile, when you really are plotting to hit a fellow, that is disinformation.
I have returned to drinking coffee again.
For a long time time, I boycotted coffee.
My entire system just needed a break–coffee, alcohol, and all other vices you could imagine or not imagine–I threw away.
I wasn’t feeling good with myself.
After some six months, things have changed.