- By Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni
There is something disarming about how Babalola Kazeem paints a face. It is not just portraiture; it is confession by colour. Both Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) and Yellow Clothing is Innocent are, on the surface, studies of young Black girlhood, but look closer and you will see the quiet rebellion of softness. Kazeem’s oil on canvas work does not shout; it hums, it lingers, and it stares back at you as if to say, “I know you are looking, but do you see?”
Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy), painted in 2018, greets you first with warmth that is not quite warmth. The burnt oranges, bruised purples, and unexpected blues flicker like candlelight on brown skin. The girl’s eyes are alert, and her face is painted with emotion rather than light. With each stroke bearing the weight of empathy, the brushwork has an intimate yet alive quality.
This is not just a portrait; it is an encounter. The audience is allowed to observe a vulnerable moment without being bothered. Kazeem’s colour palette creates a symphony of contrasts, cool shadows pulsing beneath hot tones, as though the skin itself is translating feeling into pigment. The background dissolves into abstraction, soft, muted, and ghostly, allowing the figure’s presence to dominate. There is something profoundly African about that composition, a refusal to fade into the background.
The title Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) becomes a whisper of spiritual irony. Is the gaze merciful, or is she the one offering mercy to the world that sees her? Her expression balances fragility and resistance, and that tension is what makes Kazeem’s work magnetic. It is not sentimental. It is truthful.
Yellow Clothing is Innocent (2023) follows, which is more colorful, audacious, and purposeful in its provocations. Yellow Clothing is an assertion, whereas mercy is introspection. Her hair is arranged in gentle, round knots that evoke childhood as the girl leans diagonally across the canvas. However, the scene is complicated by the maturity in her eyes. She looks up, not to get away but to inquire. A still life arrangement with bottles and leaves behind her suggests order and tradition through its serene domesticity. However, everything is interrupted by that striking yellow fabric.
That yellow is a protest in pigment form, not just a decorative accent. It is the color of light that is unruly. It spills, bleeds, and challenges the observer to confuse brightness with innocence. The phrase “Yellow Clothing is Innocent” feels loaded in the context of Black childhood and Black femininity; it could be interpreted as a critique of the way colonial color lenses interpret purity or as a reclamation of joy in its purest form. Despite the world’s doubts, Kazeem seems to be telling us that innocence, like art, exists.
This artwork reveals an understanding of composition. In the still life on the upper right, the bottles, plants, and flowers represent growth and containment. They stand in contrast to the wide flow of the yellow fabric, which shines freely and refuses to be contained. It feels like a gentle dance between being grown and still holding on to childhood.
What binds these two works is Kazeem’s unapologetic use of colour as character. He does not use it to beautify; he uses it to narrate. Each hue carries its own emotional frequency: ochres for memory, cobalt for questioning, vermilion for defiance.
I appreciate how Kazeem portrays Blackness as a kaleidoscope rather than a single tone. Mercy’s strokes are intimate, like disclosing a secret. While in Yellow Clothing, they seem more expansive and free, as if the artist has exhaled. From tenderness to self-assurance, from quiet grace to bold affirmation, the paintings collectively create a timeline of artistic maturity.
And let us not ignore the subtle feminism in this work. Kazeem’s portraits of women do not pose for the viewer’s pleasure; they exist within their own agency. Their gazes, direct, defiant, or distant, are never passive. These are not muses; they are mirrors. They force us to confront how we perceive Black women and how often we project narratives onto their stillness.
There is a line between realism and reverence in Kazeem’s art that few artists manage to tread without tripping into sentimentality. He paints with affection, yes, but also with honesty. His brushwork tells the truth, and truth, when rendered in oil, becomes almost sacred.
Viewing these two works side by side, one feels the artist’s evolution not just in technique, but in trust. Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) looks like it was painted by someone asking questions, while Yellow Clothing is innocent like someone who has found some of the answers. Yet both remain open-ended, like good stories; they do not conclude, they continue to breathe.
To look at Babalola Kazeem’s paintings is to feel seen, even in your unspoken corners. His art understands that mercy and innocence are not states of being; they are acts of endurance. In his colours, we find not just beauty, but becoming.
https://muckrack.com/kikelomo-solomon-ayeni Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni is a multi-skilled, award-winning artist (visual and written), Art Curator and Jury, Art Reviewer whose work has been featured on Vanguard Nigeria, Daily Trust Nigeria, The Daily Independent Nigeria, The Nation Nigeria, The Nigerian Tribune, and others.