"My mother is always my first reference in anything I do. I think she’s so cool. She has this way of living life that allows her to be completely free in herself, anyone that has met her will understand this. There is nothing I think she can’t do and I believe she sees herself the same way. My mother is so important to me. I think all mother’s are very important. Her mother is very important, her mother’s mother is very important. My peripatetic mother was my first introduction to anything art, her collection has grown as I have. As her only child the paintings, trinkets and books which over time she has accumulated have become like my siblings with our family growing more as we wander the globe.

 

My inaugural memory of consciously experiencing art was in Tanzania. I was around four when we moved to Arusha, a popular layover city for the adventurers planning to conquer Mt Kilimanjaro with the city itself being at the foot of Mt Meru. When we moved, Arusha was at the centre of international political conversation being the site of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, the ‘Geneva of Africa’ as some would say. I’ve grown to learn this but my primary memories of the three years we spent in Arusha consist of the space we lived, almost like a hamlet, or an enclave, a small community of families who each called one of the five houses in our compound home. I remember being the household translator, having picked up Swahili within my first year the dynamism of Arusha’s markets was something I quickly became accustomed to. I remember the two friends I made who lived across the compound gates Salima and Laila, spending hours with them creating new worlds of colour and adolescent joy. But most significantly I remember the paintings.

 

My mother collected a lot of art whilst we were in Tanzania. Being the birthplace of our new tradition she prioritised local grass-root artists, those who created for the sake of creation. She herself knew or cared nothing about the administrative aspects or history of art, what she did know was the power it held as an item which holds memory, a physical representation of a journey and history. Our walls were decorated with black figures, becoming almost like an ode to those who ever breathed in Tanzania. I’ll forever appreciate her for this, unknown to me then my experience with the art and local artists would become the catalyst to the entire entity of Àṣẹ.

 

In conversation with the renowned Bill T. Jones for Document Journal the great Hank Willis Thomas states “Art and humanity are indivisible”, I see so much truth in this. My reasoning for naming this project Àṣẹ was because I believe art to be the power that pushes action in our mortal realm. It’s a way to attempt to understand life and the previous ways of it and there is so much beauty in my mother being my introduction to this power. Art is the most important way of teaching, it is the most important way of preserving history ensuring that the histories of those who came before are not lost for the generations to come. It re-dignifies histories when social systems fail to do so, restoring their meaning, value and significance. A transcendent link exists between my mother as my first teacher and the art which she has allowed me to learn from.

 

In reflection I have and continue to learn how interconnected life, art and legacy can be. She was my first guide, my mother is Zambian and in Bemba tradition it is believed that the mother is the portal that transports the child from the spiritual to physical realm. The art she nurtured became more than accessories on our Arushan walls, they became a language, a bridge across time. Through her I’ve learnt of art being not just something which reflects humanity, but preserves it passing wisdom from one generation to the next. Just as my mother embodies freedom, so did the art she introduced to me. A presentation of the histories, triumphs and struggles of those who preceded me. In essence the lessons of my mother and art are inseparable; I’ll forever be grateful to Arusha for being the place where I began to understand this."

 

 

Taizya Adedeji

Artistic Director