Art Worlds in Ghana

Coral Paint agreed to be a sponsor and give us discounted supplies. Unik Image, which was going to give us a heavy discount, instead printed our posters (which look fab) completely FREE. Now we can spend the money on more art supplies. Woot woot. Also did I mention that Paloma Restaurant is providing some dishes for free, and Larry (Aminu)’s sister will cook up a huge pot of jollof rice for everyone?

Musah’s been busy buying supplies at the market. He, Larry, and Sharif met with the kids for more workshops yesterday. (Serge Attukwei Clottey is rejoining us next week once he’s done with his residency.) Musah was telling me about the pieces the students at Adab are doing…a mosque, a typical home in Nima, women fetching water. I can’t wait to see. In the meantime, I have lots of rounds to do, dropping off posters at various media houses and embassies. Can’t believe the event is one week from today.

And now I’m off to Chale Wote, that street art festival in Jamestown I mentioned in a previous post. Musah and Larry are both doing a painting on a building, Attukwei has his own show, and a bunch of my other friends are involved – Ato and Adwoa from the FCA; Bernard Akoi-Jackson whom I finally got to sit down with this week; Toke Olagbaju, a friend of a friend who runs I Heart Accra…and more.

Wiz Kudowor was perhaps the gruffest of the artists I met, but he warmed up as we kept talking. Walking into his studio was like a dream come true for an art geek like me. He has huge canvases of abstract figures, cityscapes, and adinkra symbols. His work has a textured airbrushed effect, because he uses rollers to create the shapes and layers, and a knife to sharpen the edges. He has a number of favorite subjects or “types” of paintings, one of which is a quilt made out of squares of color. Curves of blanket bend and wave, and two embracing figures emerge from under the depths.

Wiz does not say much in person. He prefers to let his art speak for itself. (“But shouldn’t I get something in return for traveling all the way to your studio?” He smiled but stayed silent.) Wiz did, however, let me look at an interview he had in a Nubuke Foundation pamphlet from his recent exhibition there. (It’s not unusual that he was at Kofi’s place — the artists are all buddies. The show Kofi was going to display cancelled last minute, and Wiz stepped in.)

In that interview, at least, Wiz had plenty of sharp words to share. “Right now,” he said, “it looks like we wait for certain westerners to come and ‘discover’ some artists in the country; then they suddenly become canonized and then the discussions start revolving around them. What are we doing ourselves? We have such a huge storehouse of talent in Ghana, but what are we doing about it? Ghanaian art is probably not making waves internationally because we’re not adventurous enough” (Bernard Akoi-Jackson, March 2010).

I couldn’t agree more.

As quiet as Wiz was, he was happy to show me his work. He let me pull out all his paintings, from the tiny ones piled against the windows to the huge ones packed in by the wall. He had me take them all the way out so I could have a full look; he lined up diptychs and triptychs properly.

As I was getting ready to leave, I took out a small square of canvas I’d admired. It was painted blue with brushed shades of purple. “I’d be interested in buying this piece from you, if you’d be willing to sell it and it weren’t too expensive,” I said.

Sitting in his chair by the window, Wiz breathed in and out. He looked at the wall, then he turned and said, “It’s yours. Let me sign it for you.”