Ayobola Kekere-Ekun Quotes

The key is being intentional about actively recognising what you are getting back otherwise you're gonna learn to turn bitter and not allow yourself to be vulnerable. You will compromise something and I think one of my biggest fears is breaking what makes my practice my practice, because I still don't know what it is. And as much as I don't mind, the occasional gamble, the soul of my practice isn’t something I'm willing to fuck with.

Also, I mean, at the risk of psychoanalysing that's also a way to protect yourself, and your ability to make more work. At the risk of sounding cliché, there’s a price to pay for creating. It is a give and take, but I think its human nature and dwell on what you've lost. But I do think the work definitely gives back to you, at least it does to me.

I dream about them. And I just wonder if they're fine. And if they're happy and well. There's always a sadness when you let work go. But it's something I also had to make peace with early on, because I knew I wanted to have certain conversations with my work. It's counterproductive to only talk to yourself about certain things, the conversation has to go beyond me. You can't engage people if you're not going to talk to them. You have to let the work go because, at some point, it's kind of cruel. When the work is done, they become beings in their own right. And I don't think I would want to be trapped with my maker for my entire life.

I don't revisit it. Not with the original intention anyway. If I go back to it, it's because it's moved to like the experimentation corner of my studio and I test things out on it. But I don't revisit it with the original intention of making that piece. It's either it just wasn't ready to be or just didn't want to exist in that form. Yeah. So yeah, when the skeleton is done, and I'm happy with it, I move on to what I call the meditative bit, which is basically just finishing the work. It's like the difference between like, a new relationship and marrying someone. At that point, I know you. I know your dodgy habits. I can predict what you would do if a squirrel wandered into the bathroom. You know, I know you. It's that process of just existing together and finishing the piece. I love you, but there are little to no surprises left at that point. So it's a different kind of love. It's like more steady and tolerant. It sounds really weird. Like I'm talking about a person, but it really is what it feels like.

There is. There's always a chance I might never see them again. And I do have quite a few pieces that I haven’t seen since they left. And I do think about them, like are they happy?

Sometimes I think about pieces for months or years before I actually do anything about them. But once the idea is resolved, then I get to my favourite part, which is the planning. And that's basically where I decide everything about the physicality of the work. Colours, what papers to use, grammage fabrics, texture, what details need to come in, what tools, what materials. And then I start building what I call the skeleton, which is the initial outline. The first layer of colours, outlines for figures, that sort of thing. And if I am not excited about the skeleton, I don't continue. It's not gonna go well. Fortunately, that doesn't happen very often, because it's kind of sad when it does. But I've also learned the hard way there's no point forcing the work. It’s a waste of time, and it does a disservice to me and the work really. It's unkind to try to force something to be.

The process tends to be pretty similar. For different pieces, it starts with like resolving the idea, and how the idea kind of translates to a physical piece. Sometimes I sketch. I find myself sketching more often these days. Sometimes you just need help figuring out how the forms will interrupt space. But I don't start to anything until the piece is clear. It has to be as clear as possible. I would say, like maybe 70 80%, clear, the remaining 20% tends to resolve itself. It's like I'm building a jigsaw puzzle, where I'm the only one who can see the end image, and then I have to translate it for everyone else. There's not a lot of room for error, so I need to know exactly where I'm going. Otherwise, I can't take anyone else with me.

It's a bait and switch. Yes. I think it's a bit like going to therapy. And when you have your aha moments, it’s followed by Oh my God! What else? What else have I been missing? It’s kind of like that. I think from time to time, everyone should be encouraged to reconsider what they think they know. We are trained, especially in the world we live in now, we are trained to come to swift conclusions without being very critical of how we got there.

There's also the use of material, which confuses people at first. What on earth is it? Because you're not quite sure what you're looking at, and that curiosity compels you to dig a little deeper, and just try to make sense of what you're seeing. It forces you to reconsider what you think you know, about the material, because, I mean, it's just, it's like the blandest materials, you know. It's just there, you know. You don't really think about it, and you don't really think about what it could do. And so when you see it used in such an unusual way, it does kind of trigger reconsiderations of what you think you know, and how you think you know, it. This feeds into everything.

What unifies them? I think it's subverting expectation, you know, it's that bait and switch, The physicality, the visual nature or visual identity of my work. It's like a bit of a trick. Because you see the work in one way; they are pretty bright, colourful, it's just a pretty picture. It's just something fun to look at. And the more you engage with it. That is when you start to realise I'm not necessarily saying anything happy, or pleasant, or fun, you know.

Yes. Your degrees are printed on it. Money is printed on it. It’s what you’d distract a toddler with or wedge a table with. You know, it's so universal it’s a great Trojan horse quite frankly. Because everyone is familiar with it in some form, or the other. But it's boring and universal enough that you never actually give it a second thought.

So I think the issue starts to come up when you’re not honest with yourself about those distinctions and how you are willing to engage with them. What your limitations are, as well. And you know, how you can correct for them. It's a weird business. It's a weird business, but even at my most bogged down, miserable, you know, even when I'm stretched thin, and I've scheduled one too many things, I have one too many deadlines. I can't, I cannot literally think of anything else I'd rather be doing. Like I literally cannot picture myself doing anything. What on earth would I be doing?

It’s a weird one. It's work, but it's not. I really had to separate parts of myself to deal with different parts of my practice. Because while my work is quite literally my life, and whether or not that is healthy, that's a different conversation entirely. I suppose, if a lawyer told me their work was their life, I feel sorry for them. So whether or not that's healthy is a different conversation. But my work is my life. Every decision I have made in my personal life, since 2014, has been in service of the practice. I've had to learn to separate a side of myself that understands it's not just an expression of my being, it is quite literally my career. It's my job.

When I was younger, my dream was always to live a life where I would wake up, and do whatever I wanted. And for the most part, I'm already living that life. I think that's a big part of what keeps my life going. It's a big part of what drives my practice. I'm doing exactly what I wanted to do, how I want to do it. I'm saying exactly what I want to say how I want to say it without compromising my vision or intention. It's something to be grateful for. I would say that freedom, that sense of freedom, is my fuel. Freedom to explore the world on my own terms.

In the evenings, I tend to read. I enjoy doing random research, like really random research. The last thing I searched last night was if you could take your multivitamins at night! I take walks. I walk every evening. And my new life's mission is to befriend all my neighbours’ cat. It's going pretty well. I have four favourites so far and I’ve named them all, Louise, Toothless, Void and Chonky. I also watch movies, series, you know, normal deactivate your brain type stuff.