Professor of Art, Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, United States (US), Dele Jegede, in this studio talk with Assistant Editor (Arts) OZOLUA UHAKHEME shares his studio experience and views on INEC and relevance of art movements to the growth of arts, among other issues.
What is your studio work schedule like? How many hours do you spend in the studio per day?
My studio work schedule is perennial and interminable. In one respect, my studio is a cerebral deal. I nurture and incubate ideas mentally over a period of time. I annul the usual distinctions between the physicality of practice and the fertilisation of ideas. So, you can say that my studio practice is both meditative and performative. What matters most to me is the gestation of ideas, which may take anything from a flash—a sudden burst of insight—to eternity. My studio work covers just an aspect of the totality of my commitments. As a professor, my commitments range from conducting research to teaching; carrying out quotidian academic chores to making art. I divide my time between writing and painting. Whenever I am in the practice zone, I remain in the studio for as long as I have to, regardless of the time of day.
What are you working on currently: exhibition or commissioned works?
I am currently working on a solo exhibition, which will be my second in the last four years. My forthcoming exhibition, which will be in a major gallery in Lagos, stems from my latest exploration of ideas and new media. It will be a combination of figurative and conceptual aesthetics. It is a body of work that I have been working on specifically to commemorate my 70th birthday, which comes up this year.
How many works are you working on concurrently and why?
It is difficult to itemise. At any given time, I have upwards of two, three, or four canvases that I am working on. And, as you may have suspected, a blank canvas is something of a battleground; it presents its own challenges and dares you to make your move. There are times when issues are resolved amicably between you and the canvas; when it honours your moves and reciprocates your gestures. But there are other times when the canvas becomes recalcitrant and uncooperative: when you reciprocate such stubbornness by turning the stupid canvas against the wall and leaving it there for as long as it takes. This is purgatory of sorts for the poor thing. It is a test of wills. Some times, this practice works. You go back and voila! Case solved. But at other times the canvas remains unyielding, and you may have to resort to extreme measures such as painting over it completely. There! You just exercised your power as an artist. The Yoruba say that, “Ohun ti ko lenu, ki i gbon ju eni.” “That which cannot speak should not outwit one.”
Of all the media, which one do you find challenging to handle and why?
I see a medium—any medium—as a means to the attainment of an idea. A medium is part of a process, the mastery of which is fundamental to any successful assertion of your expressivity. That is foundational. At my stage in professional practice, I have come to prefer certain media to others. I favour two-dimensional platforms and continue to experiment with new media. In recent years, I’ve limited my romance with oil-based media, preferring instead to focus on water-based processes. The challenge here is to limit my exposure to fumes and potential hazards that are an expected consequence of a studio space with circumscribed ventilation systems. Besides, artists owe themselves a duty to take necessary precautions and avoid health risks that are posed by exposure to certain media.
In your personal collections of your own paintings, are there works you will never part with? If yes, what is the attachment to them?
Potentially, every work is like your child. You gave birth to it. And this explains the attachment. I am often reluctant to part with my work. I hoard my work. I prize it above monetary recompense. This seems inevitable because my time is split among several endeavours as professor. Yet, part of you often must be with your work. Even at that, you are never fully parted with it since you do have multiple processes of reproducing the same piece although Walter Benjamin’s notion of the diminution of aura and authenticity is worth noting in this respect. Here’s the deal though: I will rather give my work out free to someone with incurable love of art, but no means than sell it at an exorbitant price to someone, who has the means but no respect for the art.
As a seasoned artist, what is the relevance of art movements or guilds to the growth of art practice?
The critique of art formations and movements falls within the purview of art historians and art critics. This is one area that is relatively under-developed in Nigeria. Contemporary art is that precisely because we are all still in the moment; we as yet do not have the mandatory spatial and temporal distance that is a necessary component of enduring historicisation. Art movements will continue to remain relevant, even inevitable, so long as there are artists who continue to work and experiment. At times, you need decades to be able to compartmentalise movements. Traits that may initially be fugitive or indiscernible have a way of settling down later. For example, based on their creative longevity, it should be relatively easy at this point to examine the stylistic trajectory of the works of, say, El Anatsui, Bruce Onobrakpeya, and Kolade Oshinowo. But we may not as yet have the spatial gaze that will help us determine which of these artists is central to any broad-based movement, and which is at the cusp of inscribing or initiating a movement. As for guilds, they are an inevitability, regardless of the nomenclature that they claim—society of this, association of that, or whatever else may emerge.
Considering the many debates on different national issues in politics and economy, how has the visual artists fared in contributing or adding his or her voice to the talk?
There is no doubt that visual artists have realised the economic viability of their profession. What I don’t know as yet is the extent to which they have translated such viability to political capital. Nigerian artists have a responsibility to express their political opinion and exercise their political rights without let or hindrance. Demas Nwoko once demonstrated the innate propensity to exercise political right when he threw his hat into the political ring a generation or so ago. Our inimitable Fela Anikulapo-Kuti once formed a political party. Of course, we do not all need to be candidates before we make our contributions to on-going political debates. Such contributions may come in the visual agendas and portfolios that artists present to the public. Jelili Atiku, for example, has shown the capacity for performance art to engage in subtle or covert critiques of cultural, social, or political systems.
There may be understandable reasons why visual artists are not known (as yet) for the public exercise of their political views. Some may be dismayed by the unbridled sycophancy that has become normative. Right now, Nigeria is on the right path in one respect: the embracement of democratic practices. Oh yes. Feel free to quibble about the democratic process itself; it certainly is far from being perfect. But regardless of its shape (which is a function of the dramatis personae) what Nigeria should continue to celebrate is the institutionalisation of the democratic process. In its most execrable form, which is what we are currently seeing in Nigeria, a democratic dispensation is better than a military dictatorship. I am optimistic that the days of peremptory broadcast on national television by stern-looking military dictators, interspersed by martial music, are over forever. That is worth celebrating. But Nigerians have a duty to protect this incipient democracy.
That said, what is appalling is the lack of civility that has characterised the political discourse. There is a shocking display of gratuitous grandstanding, crudeness, uncouthness and plebeian mentality particularly among the top hierarchy of the political class. A top citizen of the country, one who, though not elected, enjoys all the pomp and pageantry that come with an exalted office, could use some decorum and exercise decency in the choice of words for opponents. Disagreeing with a political opponent should not entail being disagreeable. It certainly should not warrant wishing anyone dead. I have looked, in vain, for a robust campaign that is based on issues and not on trivialities and sophomoric vituperations especially by political operatives that include a once-demoted governor and a former minister who appears to specialise in nothing but corrosive utterances that belie the dignity and equanimity that his status is supposed to command. Where is the decorum? It is astonishing that a political umpire, who was appointed by the government, has been dragged into an unnecessary political fray, which is clearly aimed at impugning his integrity. Everything, including the kitchen sink, is being thrown at INEC. It is surely unsettling to read statements and see political adverts, which virulently attack a man who cannot (and should not) volunteer a response at this point. In all of this though, our cartoonists should be having a field day. I’m not sure that I have seen enough impactful cartoons that are devoted to searing critiques of the on-going political buffoonery and sophomoric outbursts by certain personalities.
