OLU OGUIBE: curated by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung

5 - 26 September 2020

    curated by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung
  • Installation view IV, 2020





    The sadness descends again
    Sodden like a sheet of ice
    Yet, somehow through the shawl
    A smile, stubborn as a thumb

    Pries its way to life
    A cotyledon of light
    Defies the night.

    Olu Oguibe, “The Sadness Descends Again

  • Olu Oguibe, New York, April 2020, 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    New York, April 2020, 2020
    Mixed media installation
  • "OLU OGUIBE" curated by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung

    The exhibition is part of the gallery festival with international curators in Vienna "curated by"


    With this eponymous exhibition, Galerie Kandlhofer hosts painter, sculptor, conceptual, artist, poet, curator, scholar and art critic, Olu Oguibe, in his first one-person gallery show in Austria.

    The backbone of the exhibition is a tripartite of monumental and commemorative works which Oguibe has produced from the year 2000 onwards. Monumental not only because of their importance or aesthetic brilliance, their conspicuousness to posterity, but also monumental because with these works, Oguibe has crafted spaces, forms and ideas that in themselves serve as memorials of particular events, moments, histories or occurrences within world history. Such incisive moments and realities we cannot afford to overlook nor forget, and neither can we afford to wait for some institutions to raise ‘official’ monuments for their remembrance.

    While the works do not need to be monuments, they perform the core characteristics of mnemonic devices — that is the ability to make think of, to remind, to remember. Without wanting to delve into the current debate of the felling of confederate, colonial, racist and otherwise violent monuments around the world, it is worth taking some time to pose the question: what is remembered, by who, for whom and from what vantage point? One might fairly say that one thing the monuments being pulled down have in common is the fact that they were made to celebrate those who, in one way or the other, were perpetrators of despicable violences.
    The three works that make the foundation of this exhibition, however, speak from the vantage point of the disenfranchised, of those who have had to suffer and bear the burden of monumental violence. These works speak with the sensibilities and sensitivities of a history of those oppressed, without needing or trying to be moralistic. Rather, in their forms and aesthetics, the works perform the crux or that which is embedded in the German term for memorial, Denkmal, which is to think (denken) and again, by, time after time (mal). In this way, they go a long way to serve as mementos, commemorare, to bring to remembrance.

  • Speaking before the Art and Health session of the World Congress on Medicine and Health in Hanover on July 27, 2000, Oguibe expatiated on the magnitude of the AIDS pandemic in Africa:
        "As we speak, experts estimate that 13 million people in sub-Saharan Africa have already died of AIDS. That is more than the entire populations of whole countries put together. Another 10 million are expected to die over the next five years. (…) On the average no family would be spared a death, no community let untouched, and no culture could claim to be whole again. It is no consolation to know that by the middle of this century, if this crisis is unchecked, sub-Saharan Africa would have lost more human beings and resources to the AIDS plague than it did in all of four centuries of slave trade, internal wars, and colonial domination. We are speaking, then, of an epic holocaust the like of which has not been seen before. We are looking at the valley of the dry bones."
    Then, he posed some pertinent questions to the medical professionals gathered in Hanover, that happen to be of particular relevance to not only this exhibition in Vienna, but to the essence of art as a whole:
        "One looks at the African predicament and wonders; how can we speak of art in the face of such calamity? How does one think of art in the face of survival itself? How does one make art among the dead and the dying? We are here today to investigate the role of art in human health and well-being. But in a predicament where entire populations are under threat of annihilation, and with them the heritage and cultural memory of centuries, perhaps the imperative is not to find the role of art in health, but to look instead into the role of health in the survival of a people and its culture. Art is for the living, and in a land of the dead, how can there be art?"

    curated by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung
  • Olu Oguibe, Installation view III, 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    Installation view III, 2020
  • Thirty four years before Oguibe posed these pertinent questions, another poet, Christopher Okigbo, must have been grappling with the same questions when he wrote the poem "Elegy for Alto”:

    (with drum accompaniment)
        AND THE HORN may now paw the air howling goodbye…
        For the Eagles are now in sight:
        Shadows in the horizon-
        THE ROBBERS are here in black sudden steps of showers, of
        THE EAGLES have come again,
        The eagles rain down on us-
        POLITICIANS are back in giant hidden steps of howitzers, of
        THE EAGLES descend on us,
        Bayonets and cannons-
        THE ROBBERS descend on us to strip us of our laughter, of our
        THE EAGLES have chosen their game,
        Taken our concubines-
        POLITICIANS are here in this iron dance of mortars, of

        Of our dissonant airs; through our curtained eyeballs,
        through our shuttered sleep,
        Onto our forgotten selves, onto our broken images;
        beyond the barricades
        Commandments and edicts, beyond the iron tables,
        beyond the elephant's
        Legendary patience, beyond his inviolable bronze
        bust; beyond our crumbling towers-
        BEYOND the iron path careering along the same beaten track-
        THE GLIMPSE of a dream lies smouldering in a cave,
        together with the mortally wounded birds.
        Earth, unbind me; let me be the prodigal; let this be
        the ram's ultimate prayer to the tether…

        AN OLD STAR departs, leaves us here on the shore
        Gazing heavenward for a new star approaching;
        The new star appears, foreshadows its going
        Before a going and coming that goes on forever…

  • Olu Oguibe, Installation view V: Detail "Biafra Time Capsule", 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    Installation view V: Detail "Biafra Time Capsule", 2020
  • Okigbo, the poet, the librarian, the activist, the field-commissioner joined the rebel army of the secessionist Republic of Biafra in 1967, to fight against the oppressions of the Nigerian state, and was killed on the field in Nsukka a few weeks after the onset of the Biafra war. This war of genocide by the Nigerian army against the Igbo, mostly, but also the Annang, Efik, Ejagham, Eket, Ibeno, Ibiobio and Ijaw, is at the core of Oguibe’s second piece in the tripartite in this exhibition. Commissioned for the Athens section of documenta 14 where it was first exhibited, Biafra Time Capsule is a visual and sonic journey into, through, and by one of the most mediatized and discoursed conflicts of the 20th century. Magazines, novels, history books, photographs, speeches and other props that tell of the unfathomable atrocities of the Biafra war guide the viewer through this peregrination into a not so long distant past that still echoes in the present. Being caught up in the Biafra Time Capsule is encountering the history of the war that lasted 1967 to 1970, which Oguibe experienced firsthand as a child. In this time capsule witnesses from within and without share their experiences from a plethora of vantage points of ethnic, economic and political, religious and cultural factors that fuelled the war and enabled a genocide as the world watched on while millions of Biafran children, men and women were killed on the front, or from starvation and illnesses.
    The Biafra Time Capsule is also a testimony of the impact of imagery, imagination and images in mass communication, in the arts as much as on the psyche of a people. It is impossible to erase the images of starving or malnourished Biafran children from our collective memories. The Biafra Time Capsule gives us a frame, an ‘encadrement’ might be a better notion, within which one can shell oneself while embarking on this journey of encountering such violent histories, or it might be the capsule within which the bitter pills of history are encapsulated for us to swallow — though with caution, but without losing its tenacity, at the end.

  • Olu Oguibe, Installation view II: Detail | "New York, April 2020", 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    Installation view II: Detail | "New York, April 2020", 2020

    So “how can we speak of art in the face of such calamity? How does one think of art in the face of survival itself? How does one make art among the dead and the dying?”… In 2020, these questions no longer seem to be questions of some past, or questions related to some specific geographical space like the African continent. The chickens seem to have come home to roost, as the whole world has been gripped by the cold hands of death with the COVID 19 pandemic. In not even one year, the world has seen 649.8 thousand deaths from or related to COVID 19, 16.28 million confirmed infections and 9.9 million recoveries from COVID 19, with the USA topping the list of deaths worldwide with an estimate of 149 thousand deaths and counting. So what can artists do in the face of such calamity?

  • Olu Oguibe, Installation view I, 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    Installation view I, 2020
  • Like with other iconic and monumental works, Oguibe's most recent work embarks on and tackles the crisis we all find ourselves in with the latest and ongoing global pandemic. The images of endless queues of military vans carrying corpses in Italy, images of mass graves in the central park, images of soldiers in their military outfits patrolling the streets around the world ensuring people stay at home, the images of deserted streets taken over by rodents and other shy animals, just as much as the images of oversaturated hospitals or makeshift clinics in football stadium all over the world cannot leave us indifferent. The images and the soundbites of the pandemic can be actually so overwhelming that one can't see the forest for the trees. When I expressed a slight concern in an email to the artist about the rush by some artists to try to tackle difficult sociopolitical issues while they still unfold and without the distance afforded to see what is at stake, he replied: "With the pandemic, the experience is ongoing as you rightly point out, and the flurry of images and the noise of media coverage are part of that ongoing experience. Still, not all aspects of the experience are actually shared. The idea of mass graves in New York City in 2020 is too surreal and distant to register in most people's minds. Leave it for a couple of years, and it becomes intellectualised as a subject of study, and even more distant when presented as art. It becomes aesthetic."

  • Olu Oguibe, Iuventa, 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    Iuventa, 2020
    Mixed media sculpture
  • But the sensibilities and sagacity of a great artist allows for him/her to find the appropriate distance from which to look at the forest to be able to comprehend the sheer magnitude, and utter depth of the darkness of that forest. It is this aptitude that allowed for Oguibe to do another of his monumental pieces for documents 14 in Kassel, 2017, an obelisk Das Fremdlinge und Flüchtlinge Monument (Monument for strangers and refugees, 2017). This piece that not only was an epitome of the global state of refugeeness, but also the most controversial, fundamental and discussed art piece for documenta 14 that placed a mirror in the face of a predominantly Christian society, or one that claimed to live by and is structured by the virtues of Christian values, a biblical quote “I was a stranger and you took me in,” in Arabic, English, German and Turkish. And this in the middle of what was derogatory called a “refugee crisis.” Despite being in the middle of a whirlwind, the artist could afford himself the appropriate distance of not only bearing witness, but also commemorating and paying respect to those who had been forced to leave their homes in search of breathable air. It is no doubt that the obelisk was met with so much indignation from the extreme right wing of society, but highly celebrated and revered by all others who found dignity in humanity. This quest into the crux of the ‘state of refugeeness’ — psychologically, politically, socially, economically, artistically — still drives Oguibe as he explores onwards themes of migration, flight, hospitality and refuge, this time with a series of works that acknowledge personalities and institutions like Domenico Lucano (Mimmo), Carola Rackete, Jugend Rettet, and others that have gone out of their comfortable and privileged ways to help humans — refugees — who have been stranded and are in dire need.

  • Olu Oguibe, 2m Apart (Floor Plan for Social Distancing), 2020

    Olu Oguibe

    2m Apart (Floor Plan for Social Distancing), 2020
    Floor painting
  • In another recent email exchange for the exhibition, the artist wrote that his exhibition is about
    the precariousness of existence and the ever-presence of cataclysmic or colossal, life-changing crises: be it war, pandemics, or other upheavals that always have the potential to turn our collective of personal worlds upside down, including displacement and inevitable flight from home. In looking at the challenges of our existence in the permanent shadow of colossal, these works also remind us of human resilience and fortitude, and the need always to rise to our better selves in order to help both us and others cope. (…) The works themselves are traces, diaries, archives, quiet comments snatched from carefully gathered fragments of history and experience that are not only pertinent to this moment but resonant across time. The different circumstances themselves remind us of how insignificant we often are in the face of cataclysmic crises like a pandemic or civil strife, and yet how critically important we are in facing up to such crises and containing them.

  • Olu Oguibe
    New Monuments Series, 2020
    Acrylic on acid-free watercolour paper
    Triptych, each:
    76 x 107 cm
    29 7/8 x 42 1/8 in
  • Another thread of reflection that could arise within the framework of the works presented in this exhibition would be the notion of ruination. Not the ruin itself or the debris, but an engagement and reflection on the project, the acts, the processes of ruination. In thinking about Oguibe’s body of work from the 1980s until today, one is lured into reading works like the Biafra Time Capsule (2017), Das Fremdlinge und Flüchtlinge Monument (2017), Ashes (2002) on the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the world trade centre, Many Thousand Gone (2000), Oklahoma (1995), a memorial for the children who died in the Oklahoma bombing, to name but a few, through the prism of perilous states of being. In “Imperial debris: Reflections on ruins and ruination,” Ann Laura Stoler discusses ruinations as processes that “bring ruin upon.” As she writes “By definition, ruination is an ambiguous term, being an act of ruining, a condition of being ruined, and a cause of it. Ruination is an act perpetrated, a condition to which one is subject, and a cause of loss. These three senses may overlap in effect, but they are not the same. Each has its own temporality. Each identifies different durations and moments of exposure to a range of violences and degradations that may be immediate or delayed, subcutaneous or visible, prolonged or instant, diffuse or direct. By the dictionary again, ruination is a process that brings about ‘severe impairment, as of one’s health, fortune, honor, or hopes.’ Conceptually, ruination may condense those impairments or sunder them apart.”

  • Olu Oguibe
    Is this the end of coal, 2020
    Acrylic on acid-free handmade paper
    Sextych, each:
    57 x 78 cm
    22 1/2 x 30 3/4 in
  • To think of Prof. Dr. Olu Oguibe’s art works in this context is to deliberate on the vulnerabilities of our being, of the sandy grounds on which human relations are built, on the uncertainties we are constantly confronted with in this world we have crafted for more worse than better since the birth of the capitalist and colonial enterprises, it is to think of the decrepitude of health and social systems in countries with the most sophisticated economies in the world in which the scissors between the rich and the poor is unacceptably wide. Though Oguibe’s works are not about ruination, the works are reminders that we’re often one chance moment away from (potential) ruination, and highlight the ever-present threat of ruination. To cogitate on Oguibe’s work in this context is to accept the atomity of the human experience in the largess and colossality of planetary being, it is to reflect on deeply corrupt systems that enable unhinged sociopolitical, health, economic structures carved and conditioned by precarity that have enabled forced migration and flight, wars and illnesses across the globe. An engagement with (as in ‘Auseinandersetzung mit’) Oguibe’s work is thus to embrace humility in the face of such moments of magnitudinous adversities and their prolongations in the history of human presence on earth. But it is especially to think of how singular and collective human efforts and humane interventions have been and will be crucial in overcoming  these moments of exigencies. It is to think of art not just as a form of expression or witness or comfort or alleviation, but essentially as the straw to clutch on when drowning. Art as the “cotyledon of light that defies the night.” So, an engagement with Oguibe’s art is also to think of how humanity escapes and survives precarity, as much as to deliberate on rehabilitation, recuperation and reparation in times when Things Fall Apart.

  • Olu Oguibe
    Untitled II (Matanzas), 2020
    Watercolour on acid-free watercolor paper
    3 sheets, each:
    76 x 107 cm
    29 7/8 x 42 1/8 in
  • If you are afraid of your reflection
    do not come my way
    at times I am a mirror
    If I am a receptacle
    you will see your life
    and the particles of your death
    collected in me
    There is no serenity here
    past the slow rattle of our quick decay
    lying in ambush around the street corners
    Mirror or receptacle where no dreams
    come to roost in the night, I travel
    from where we have been to
    where we might have been
    Keorapetse Kgositsile, excerpt from “Things Fall Apart (after and for China Achebe)” in This Way I Salute You


                                                                                                                 Text: Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung, Curator