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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.
Now, please watch this one-minute clip after reading my short note.
Now, please watch this one-minute clip after reading my short note.
This morning I went to my usual coffee shop, not too far from my house in Austin, Texas.
It was my favorite hangout before the outbreak of the Covid.
But now, it has become only a drive-in shop, and I sat in my Jeep, waiting for the young woman to take my order.
“Tall coffee and a banana nut bread warmed,” I told her.
“Sure,” she said. “That will be five dollars and seventy cents.”
Someone just purchased this work, The Middle Passage.
Someone just purchased this work, The Middle Passage.
Smart move, I think.
Art is the smartest investment you can make.
Unlike the stock market, when the market falls, your investment does not go poof into thin air–as billions of dollars are disappearing during this COVID-19 market
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.
HOW MUCH? Èrò Ni Ọkọ Dídó
HOW MUCH? Èrò Ni Ọkọ Dídó
Check the naira amount in your pocket or the bottom line in your bank account.
Has that transfer gone through?
But what does a fellow do with money that rapidly gets useless?
What do you do when a piece of paper loses its promisedvalue?
It still says One thousand Naira, but it only buys One hundred Naira worth of garri.
In the year 2019 when I left Nigeria, I brought with me some naira currency notes, stacked in one-thousand denominations.
WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND?
“I was cursed by a mad woman,” said this caller.
It all began with a message I found in my Facebook messenger box.
“Prof, what is your WhatsApp number,” the Facebook message reads. “My number is xxx. I want to discuss something important with you and I don’t want to write it on Facebook.”
