It’s like you’re thumbing your nose at death. Sometimes my work takes on a festive “Day of the Dead” quality, like I’m saying, “I’m not scared of you.” I’m laughing in the face of it, givin’ them a big send off. All this stuff is about to die. It’s like taking pictures of people in their deathbeds. That sounds fucked up, doesn’t it? “Oh, there’s somebody dying; lemme take their picture.”
Seven years after independence from British rule was achieved, in October of 1960, Ojeikere and other artists committed to moving their country beyond a colonialist mindset by exploring the points where European and broadly defined African cultural sensibilities collided and diverged.
Scott and I followed the bull and story and found ourselves side by side with the ranch hands as they tried to lure and lasso the bull. At some point, I looked up from the action and noticed more than a dozen police rifles aimed in our direction, targeting the bull. Nobody had to ask me to move. I ran, but not Scott. He clung to a ...
Opie’s new body of work signals a departure point in some ways, and thematic continuities elsewhere. The images comprising this show create a fictive space. They do not capture a world that already exists beyond Opie's lens, but instead will a mysterious and dark world into existence.