Random Experiences - 2022

In Response to Caluba - 06/05/22

This thought has plagued my mind for years, and I don't seem to have gotten any concrete answer.

I think it's something about tye artist's dilemma of being so explicit and yet so vague.

And this is no artist's fault, and maybe not the viewer's fault. The mind of man just so happens to be in this swirly pool of unique and convoluted experiences, such that we, most times, view and interpret what we see and experience from our own very biased and limited perspective of what life is.

I say it's the artist's dilemma because one single piece of art can be the culmination of decades of experiences. Telling vivid tales of growth. Of development. Of transformation. Of the extremities of light and dark and the shifts in between. It can tell of work. Gruelling work. Sickening work. Brave work. Courageous work. Humbling work. Work often carried out in the dark corners of the soul.

It can tell of so many things and yet all we see as viewers may just be the beauty of swishes, or the nice blend of colours.

And the artist looks, and waits, for that one soul who may, perhaps, take a look at the piece and see the blood, tears, laughter and soul that went into EVERY DAMN LINE in the canvas.

You know, it's how some artists can never put a dot to paper if it isn't from soul, because what is art if it's just bland?

But then, that's the artist's hell. To pour out your soul and watch people slap it with nonchalance.

Somehow, it's also the artist's heaven. Because what is art, again, if it doesn't provoke the viewer into sincere contemplations and pungent introspection? I feel it's an artist's pride (and I accept my bias in making this statement as I'm no artist), to stand aside and watch the observers scratch their head for what exactly the artist felt and experienced, or what he/she meant or intended to relay as each brush and swipe was made.

That joy in seeing that you are as mysterious as the Universe, sitting back and watching people try to decipher your core essence like scientists on a mission.

Sometimes, we hit jackpot with the very tiny few who gets us at a glance. And this is like a rare gem to find. This "getting" of an artist's essence, or the essence of a work, is hard because the ones who "get it" may not be able to translate that "getting" into words.

It's like the deep calls to deep feeling. So, even when we ask, "what do you think my soul was expressing on this canvas?" We may be met with answers that might fall so short of originality, simply because words (language) cannot do justice to the fluidity of the soul. Language is a very efficient means of transposing the soul's talk, but it falls short in capturing it's entirety.

It's how I feel when I see this particular piece. I've seen you do takes on others but this speaks to me as the culmination of the journey of vulnerability.

It's deep. I don't even know if I can accurately capture how I feel EVERYTIME I look this up, and even right this moment.

And I accept that my interpretation might be tainted with viewer's bias.

The word that hits me every time I see this is VULNERABILITY. In the fullness of the strength of what that word represents.

It's how we've been made to cower in fear, and shrink ourselves in silence, hiding who we really are on the inside for outward acceptance, or at least, to not be judged or put under the light of malicious criticism.

In practical situations, it's not being able to think, or say, or do the things our souls want to do because we fear how it's gon' be perceived or accepted.

I remember one poem of Ken Saro Wiwa... The words that strike out at this time are;

*"Give me three rights of man,*

*The right to think my thoughts,*

*The right to say my thoughts,*

*The right to stand erect,*

*And call my soul my own."*

It kinda sums up the goal of vulnerability for me, which I feel you achieved with this piece.

I'm thinking of the struggles you might have faced on the journey to achieving this level of vulnerability.

I see the casts or the plasters, and in thinking of the work that you've put in to ensure they fall of.

Again.

This is viewer's bias.

But from experience, there's just so much of hiding in the dark, and "protecting" one's self with the symbolized casts/plasters, and sometimes, we almost say, "who can blame us?"

With the whole misplaced culture of conservatism, and the vice-like, almost tyrannical grip of judgemental sledgehammer wielders who not only hold the knives but also have the yams, I see this as a scream of victory on the journey of freedom.

The specifics of your story as the artist will definitely be different from what I have in mind because we truly cannot know what we aren't told, but the essence gets to me, even though I may not have hit the nail on the head in trying to verbalize the "getting" of this piece.

I put this up some days ago... It's always been a dream of mine since I consciously started my journey. It's symbolic to me, this particular piece of yours.

Look at the openness of your stance, complete exposure and with palms exposed, and the standing under the light... The symbolism of "nothing left to hide". A "this is me for me" exclamation.

It's what my journey has been these last few years. And I'm not even close to this level of vulnerability yet.

But then, like I said severally, it's probably transference that's just happening.

Maybe it's me imposing my own meaning on what this piece represents...

But again, is art not, in a way, meant to be like this?

Like a mirror?

Where millions can gather around a piece, yet, each man comes to the pool of observation and finds a version of himself reflected in the image before him.

If this be one of the pillars of art, then I say it's completed its work in me.

Because I look at this, and see the possibility(ies) that await(s) me if I keep on walking this path.

In the end, I consider it a worthwhile journey, one for which this piece stands as the symbolic culmination of the many strides taken on this path.