#wocart

ajksdahsfgkajsfdsjkagfhdjkf i am literally so proud of this pic!!!

this was a practice pic for shits and giggles because the reference photo really was aesthetically pleasing but it took on a life of it’s own.

Ojo Agi (b. 1992) is a self-taught Nigerian-Canadian artist.

Informed by anti-racist feminist theory, she uses her art practice to explore issues of race, gender and cultural identity. She aims to challenge the myopic lens with which women of colour are often portrayed; but also use each piece as an opportunity to learn and un-learn what is beautiful to her.

Whether she’s creating with art markers, oils or watercolours, potent emotions and delicate details permeate her work. Her greatest hope as an artist is to tell stories that people of any background can identify with.

She is currently based in Toronto, Canada.

You write about using each artwork you create as “an opportunity to learn and un-learn what is beautiful.” Can you elaborate on how you envision that process taking place in the minds of those who view your work?

 I’ve always had a passion for drawing the figure; however, when I was younger I almost exclusively drew white girls, a reflection of what I was seeing around me and in the media. By the time I started drawing black girls, I painted them in with caramel skin, hazel eyes and light brown hair. For a long time, none of my drawings looked like me and I never questioned it. Around 2011 when I started studying feminist theory, I began to make a conscious effort to paint women who represented who I am—of African descent, with deep brown skin, rounded noses and thick lips. This change has brought a new life and meaning into my work, which I create on brown paper as a metaphor for skin.

I use this example of myself to illustrate how my expectations of whose beauty belongs in art has evolved over time by actively seeking, absorbing and creating the images I did not grow up with. Centralizing black women in the conversation on beauty is my attempt at celebrating, validating and normalizing black women’s distinct features.

Sometimes people look at my work and ask me why I’m only drawing black women or why I’m not drawing white women (neither of which is actually true). Ultimately, it’s up to each viewer to do the reflective work to uncover why portraits of black women make them uncomfortable or why they feel affronted by the absence of white women. In doing so, hopefully they can also work on the process of “un-learning” what is beautiful to them.

Ojo Agi, And do you belong? I do.(2016) 

In many of your pieces you have chosen a gaze in which the subject stares directly at the viewer. What does this gaze mean for you in the relationship between the viewer and the artwork?

Traditionally, women in art have been objects of the male gaze. Using direct eye contact is a reclamation of this gaze, subverting the expectation that the women depicted exist for the consumption of others. As much as they are being looked at, they are also doing the looking. This positions them as subjects demonstrating power, control and defiance.

Additionally, having the subjects look directly at the viewer allows for a more personal connection with the pieces. As much as eye contact may represent authority and strength, it can also represent intimacy and vulnerability. The eye contact can be seen as an invitation for the viewer to come up close, without subjugating the women in the portraits as they maintain their intensity. 

I also believe that the relationship between the viewer and the artwork is influenced by the identity of the viewer. Each individual can project their own biases and beliefs into their interpretation of the work. For example, black women have told me that they look at the work and see themselves. It can then be said that they are looking into their own eyes and connecting personally with the subject because the artwork is essentially a mirror.

Ojo Agi, Aladi (2014)  from the "Daughters of Diaspora" series

In your series, For Sad Girls and Lonely Boys you write about the “sensitive side of people of colour that is not acknowledged by mainstream society.” Describe how you hope that your work subverts this commonly held belief and pushes them to think outside those stereotypes.

It’s very unfortunate to see how pervasive stereotypes that deny the humanity of people of colour are in all corners of our society. A study from the University of Virginia published in 2016 showed that a significant proportion of white medical students and residents genuinely believed that black patients experience less pain than white patients. Although this study was measuring (mis)conceptions of physical pain, the results are still shocking and exemplary of what society expects from people of colour on a psychological level. Somehow, after all we’ve endured, it still can’t be fathomed that we might hurt. 

The aim of “For sad girls and lonely boys” is to depict the humanity of people of colour. I wanted to show us as sensitive, vulnerable and delicate to counter the false narratives of our supposedly innate aggression, anger and violence. It’s my hope that this work will help change misconceptions about the black experience of pain, start conversations around black mental health and encourage those suffering in silence to seek help.