Foluso
Akodi Orisa resident artist, Foluso.
painting, architecture, textiles, terracotta, performance.
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MY SUGGESTION
A friend, who is also a devout, church-going Christian just talked with me a few minutes ago. He called from Nigeria.
“What is wrong with these kids?” he asked me. “Why can’t they protest peacefully? What has their quarrel against police brutality got to do with burning down buildings, and looting stores? They are criminals. They are worse than the politicians they are criticizing. If you place them in positions of power, they would do worse.”
I didn’t respond. After all, I didn’t call him. He called. He must have something really important to say to have spent his money calling me.
VISUAL PROVERBS: ABO
VISUAL PROVERBS: ABO
Let’s play with words.
Let’s play with images.
Let’s construct figures of speech.
Let’s do òwé, and ride it down the lane of memory.
Let’s break things all down; then pack them all back together.
Let’s see what will fall out, what will fall in.
Let us now begin to speak in proverbs.
Welcome to the new world.
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.”
Igbohoism
What is Igbohoism?
1. You need drinking water. You pay taxes to the government. The government refuses to provide you with drinking water, because the politicians would rather steal your money for their own personal purposes.
You dig water wells to provide you with water to drink and use for your household needs.
That is Igbohoism.
I took a break from work
Yesterday I took a break from work, and for the first time since the Covid outbreak in 2019, ventured out.
With Adetola Wewe, my friend visiting from Nigeria, I went on a boat ride.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Nine)
Some fire seemed out of Papa Ru as he sat, something which would be clear to someone who knew him well, and might not be noticed by others.
I saw the difference in the grey dim to his eyes. It was less in the bow that formed around his shoulders as he leaned forward on the table, under which Obaseki was hiding. But Rufus was hardly aware of his own body yet. It was the first time he left his room since we carried him there the moment we arrived from burial. He seemed to have a hard time just keeping his face from falling off his head. As if to ensure that did not happen, he pressed his chin into his palm, his elbow resting firmly on the table for support, seemingly carrying the entire weight of his torso.