Within a single life, several voices emerge — past lives and future selves. 

These voices infiltrate the senses and shape reality. 

A smell, a faded memory of a wall, the haze of the harmattan sun — 

versions of self appear in a non-linear fashion, registering forms of the past that obstruct and fissure the present. 

This waywardness of time forms the basis of dwelling away from home. 

I feel as though I am always running on Lagos time. 

Overloaded with imagery and memory, I practice constantly locating myself through making. 

Questions have always come more easily than answers—they invite a stillness where time and phenomena can unfold, until a response rises of its own accord. 

I find that a question lives in repetition, 

drawing us back with every turn of thought. 

In recent times, I have wondered 

“what is a black rainbow?” 

My practice explores ideas of lineage, family archive, alternative forms of citation, and Black ontology. It is about what remains unseen but eternally felt: straying landscapes, broken clocks, nocturnal thoughts, Nigeria, preservation, residue, still time, unruly time, unruly events that strike you at your core of being. 

I’m interested in how the body engages with space, especially in settings where visibility is intensified, exploring how cultural events and conditions manifest through mediums such as charcoal, concrete, oil paint, and objects often from home or construction waste. 

Concrete is tough and unyielding, its strength growing with time. 

Charcoal, a residue of burning, holds heat but loses its marks easily. 

what, who, are the remnants of a rainbow?