by Ifeoluwa Olutayo.
These signs follow those who believe. Signs are all there, the elevation of mundanity, love’s many forms and a testament to the technical talents of the artist.
I went sign searching again over the last weekend, and I happened upon a debut exhibition at the Ark by Anny Roberts, a place that played host to the first of my sign-searching last year.
For many, love is that rush, that swell, the heightened senses when you’re in the presence of the focus of your affections. It’s confirmation that you’d go to the ends of the earth (as is pecuniarily possible in Tinubu’s Nigeria) for this individual, catering to their every need, as is also infinity-monogrammingly possible.
I may fall into this “grand gesture” category–my friends refer to me repeatedly as a lover-boy and thoughtful (platonic and romantic) lover–but I am also drawn to expressions of love in the slow push-and-pull of life. The “I thought of you and got you this”, the “I remembered something that you didn’t even think I was listening to”, the “acts of service”, the “stolen glances”, my favourite; parallel play.
The mundane acts that make it all the more apparent that you are cared for in the ways that matter to you and are seen for who you are. That’s what sells it: Mundanity is elevated into pure pleasure when it’s grounded in the personal, in how much it matters to someone you care about and how much it matters to you to just exist in this routines, certain of happiness as long as you’re with these people (plato or rome).
Cynthia Ugwudike is no stranger to the concept of love as routine, a thrill to be found in the constant repetition that is the protagonist in life’s slow charge towards the end. These ideas are imbued in her debut exhibition, In the Eyes of My Lover, which is, in her words, something that has evolved from just capturing how a lover’s gaze would rest on her, into a continuing re-evaluation of self-love and acceptance.
It’s one that carries a shirking off of the responsibilities love has been burdened with due to culture and late-stage capitalism, the performance of it, and a capturing of what it just is.
For her, it’s existing in routines. Her journey here was one that situated her deeply within herself, caring for all parts of her as her first love. This understanding is what her works try to communicate as parts of a wholly developed understanding of love–at its best outside of external validation–working with her curator, Chisom Peter Job.
I have a soft spot for sculptures and textile art, as I think the technicalities are just as important as the emotive and thematic responsibilities of a body of work, and with textile, I’m in awe whenever these two considerations meet for a performance for the ages. Cynthia’s work speaks of a great technical know-how and, without the context it carries, is still an achievement of incredible craft. The layers in each work brings depth to the experience, background in felt, rug tufting to highlight distinct portions in her frame, and punch needling for the star of most of the works, herself (or her limbs) in various routine activities.
I loved how she in this form carried the hallmarks of love with the shape of her nose; it’s a small detail that may not carry any symbolic meaning but i like to think that everything smells good when you’re in love (plato or rome). The routines here serve as the gaze captured, a witnessing of a significant other, friends, family or even herself.
Burdened with the context, it transcends form, bringing to the fore important questions to ponder, about how we see ourselves and how we love, figuratively, and literally (the distinct layers in the works give an emerging-out-of-the-frame characteristic, mentioned in detail by Cynthia herself).
Works like Pink Duvet and Under the Pink Duvet capture her in rest, existing alongside her cat, Mani, a constant in her life and a focus of her affections. Capturing these moments reinforce that sometimes, being with a loved one (read her cat) in routine moments is bliss.
Plantain and Eggs, again? takes these ideas further, as the artist captures a recurring moment of bliss with her cat and a meal, which she says she eats every day, unfailingly. Tarkwa Bae brings to life a shared routine–one with her friend Remi–in her life, her trip to the beach and immortalises not only the happiness contained in those trips, but a snapshot of the delights to be found in shared repetition and what that connection means to both parties.
Cynthia also tries to capture, outside of these routines and shared moments, the feeling of love, as she understands it to be from experience. Works like All Consuming and Over Pouring depart from the tangible into intangibles, embracing a more abstract nature than the other works to represent what love is, when you look a bit more deeply. With All Consuming, love becomes a burning desire, an obsession, beset by an unease, which is represented by a clash of colour across the piece, distorting the balance. It reflects an inner nature that is all too real to me, passion and desire becoming this consuming force.
On the other hand, Over Pouring–even though it captures some of that same passion–reflects a calmer feeling, in representation as far as the colours are concerned, and in perception. With this, we acknowledge the feeling that consumes us, but in all of that devouring, we find devotion and consideration. It’s crazy and beautiful all the same. Over Pouring captures the love that flows out of us, into those life has allowed us to witness and to be witnessed by.
Love Island is the centrepiece of the first part of the exhibition’s experience, a rug that in a sense captures all of the colours, moods, complexities and elevated mundanities of love that Cynthia has captured. It speaks to a whole, one that is a mess of contradictions, but posits that all of it is very real and true.
Looking at the world we painfully inhabit, love suffers beneath the weight of expectations brought on by a global village running into the ground due to late-stage capitalism, and it is easy to get lost in pecuniary expectations or performance for the crowd. Cynthia shirks all of that off with a sense of clarity; we need to reflect on what love is to us, questioning all that has been told to us about what love is. For Cynthia, it’s one that embraces her routines and breeds grounds for unfettered consideration. What is it for you?
We also need to love ourselves, embracing all of our being, and never caving in to external influence, no matter what the world demands of us.
Narratives abound, and signs were present.
What signs?
Undeniable technical dexterity, the colours of love, self-love’s wonderful gaze, and a riveting debut exhibition.
