When excavating the roots of African diasporic trauma, one happens upon a mystical seam…The African Jetset series takes a shamanic twist, this retrospection is the future.
Art of the Gele is fixated on Nigerian glamour in the shape of the extraordinary and ultra-fabulous headgear sported by Nigerian women, known as gele. From market women to society doyennes to clergy and First Ladies, what the origami-like folds and intricate structure of the gele represent is a formidability of gesture wielded with élan. This series is a “throway salute” to this distinct ...
Preview from the first volume of my graphic novel series “Hotel Legba” in which the Yoruba gods of the diaspora converge at the crossroads.
Digital glittertech: the tech maketh the man…
Afropunk Festival, Ikorodu, Lagos, Nigera 1982. The kids came dressed as cats, we don’t know why…
A Dark Fairytale, a Mystery Ballet — for the Lunar New Year.
A Dark Fairytale, a Mystery Ballet— for the Lunar New Year.
Needs must.
Old habits die hard: when I was a teen I was preoccupied with oil crayon drawing images of my two sartorial idols, Grace Jones and David Bowie. I lost the bulk of my teen output in a fire… Fast forward decades later, the pastels have been replaced with mouse / cursor / AI and a ton of art direction. It’s still Bowie, and Ms. Jones (and all her legacy iterations: Ajak Deng, Grace Bol, et ...
Sketches for Untitled Kingdom Volume IV: “Literary & Debating Society”, an episode in which the girls at the orphanage fortuitously receive the wrong uniforms, instead of the ones ordered for them at the behest of the First Lady. The backstory: the orphan schoolgirls have now figured out how to wield certain forest magic elements in their favour, and set about to end their isolation and ...
I used a fairly straightforward reference image of myself at the TWA Lounge (JFK), peppered in some psychedelia prompts in Midjourney that matched the era and ended up with these:
Some AI sketches for the Late Great Dame. A long time ago I had a dream where I sat behind Elizabeth the First, among a college of priestesses (sort of arranged like a choir behind the preacher)—so I couldn’t exactly see her. Later on in the dream, a friend who appeared as a high ranking gentleman, guided me through a crowded hotel lobby to meet her. She sat in a frosted phone booth, a ...