Artist: Moyo Okediji
Title: The French Medussa
Medium: acrylic on canvas.
Date; 2018
In 1810, the French government launched a bad-ass naval frigate, the Méduse, rigged with 40 guns. The Méduse participated in the Napoleonic wars, and also dabble in marine raids off the coasts of the Caribbean, before departing in 1816 for Senegal on its ill-fated trip for which it became notorious.
My love, best friend, companion, and confidant left me yesterday.
She finally drove away with her husband yesterday in the morning, to his place in Florida, several hours away from me.
Artist: Moyo Okediji
Title: The Trial of the Snail and the Tortoise
Medium: Acrylic on canvas
Date: 2018
THE CHILD BREAKS THE SHELL OF A SNAIL, NOT THAT OF A TORTOISE.
Kally Ozolua, the art editor of The Nation Newspaper has a good story on my arrest by THE NIGERIA POLICE.
Reminds me of a painting by Parmigianino, titled SELF PORTRAIT IN A CONVEX MIRROR, painted circa 1524 during the Renaissance. In the painting, the convex mirror from which Parmigianino is painting places the artist’s hand at the forefront of the composition, in a manner that exaggerates the hands, thus proclaiming the powerful quality of the craftsmanship within the hand of an artist.
Best In Africa
I was arrested for the first time at age 62. For building an Orisa house, in Ile Ife.
I made the statement to a bunch of police officers most of them young enough to be my children.
It was an act of humiliation at the least.
The greatest custodian of Ifa, the Araba of Ile Ife, Araba Adisa Mokorowale with Moyo Okediji July 26, 2017.
Friend welcoming me back to the US.
I’ve missed Babylon.
The land of alienation has its consolations.
I thank you all, my friends, for your support.
My first month in the United States, 1992.
I began to paint in my office at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
I was trying to discover myself again in a new world after leaving behind Nigeria and everything that was meaningful to me, everything that had anchored me.
At the airport and, incredibly, within this period, I gave birth to the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, the building in the background of this picture.
“The Police Area Commander (AC) is interested in the case,” a police officer with a cellphone said. “He just called to say that he is now at his seat, and wants to see all of you in his office.” The AC’s office was about one hundred meters across the yard, from where we were seated. We all filed into the AC’s office. He was seated, and his large desk was decorated with pictures, flags and small objects with personal sentimental values. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed rather too pleasant looking to be a police officer. Not until he stood up did I realize that his gait was forward-leaning, with the robust physique of a football tackler. You wouldn’t want to be in his way despite his handsome mien.
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.