Back in late 2019, at a time when I was actively collecting, I came across the work of Abi Salami. Her stunning mixed media depictions of African women stood out in the sea of images posted on instagram by artists regularly tempting art enthusiasts like myself to feed our insatiable collector’s appetite.
The series entitled ‘My Africa, was a regal celebration of the African female form and an ode to Abi’s motherland. What captured my attention firstly was the purple, gold and blue hues that the skin of her African figures were burnished with. These colours gave the subjects an air of regality and royalty and their stances- proudly erected spines and extended necks, matched this. They were exquisite. I fell in love with the way that these African women seemed so self-assured, so strong, and even when holding a basket of fruit, having donned their sunglasses, looked so effortlessly cool. Adding another layer of texture to these painted works , Abi had cleverly fashioned her subject’s clothes and shoes from cut outs of distinctly African images- showcasing the beauty in the diversity of a continent home to thousands of ethnicities and cultures. The titles were a mix of lyrics from Fela Kuti songs, Nigerian pidgin phrases, and the kind of positive affirmation black African women need to tell themselves in order to survive a world that can at times be harsh and hostile. These titles turned these canvases into depictions of feminine strength, determination, hope and pride. Pride in being a child of mother Africa and a bearer of her royal blood.
I fell in love with the way that these African women seemed so self-assured, so strong, and even when holding a basket of fruit, having donned their sunglasses, looked so effortlessly cool.
However, soon I noticed that this wasn't the only story that Abi was here to tell. In a series of paintings that are evidently inspired by the work of Salvador Dali and other surrealists like Rene Magritte, Abi shared something many struggle to talk about, but many experience: issues of poor mental health. Her subjects in this series were still distinctly African but they weren't all necessarily conspicuously proud, royal and regal in their immediate presentation. Many of them seemed to be carrying weight. Sometimes this presented itself through their posture and other times in the items that were around them within the composition.
The skin was still varnished with purple, gold and blue: the purple often highlighting a strong woman, but a woman whose strength was almost performative; the blue, a woman who seemed sunken, who seemed to be soothing herself; And the gold, which at times didn't shine bright, almost gave the skin a sallow kind of tinge to it, showing an element of desperation or in someway despair. These women were not all happy and they were not all fine or more so they were fine, they weren't okay but they were putting on the act that they felt better than they were.
Throughout this series, I became aware of a number of signs and symbols which further eluded to the message that Abi was trying to convey of black women suffering with poor mental health but still having to appear fine. There was a very typically surrealist image of a stack of the chairs balancing so precariously, front leg on ear, front leg on ear- our daily balancing act. Then the eggs- possibly a symbol of the fragility of the woman's mental state or even a symbol of fertility, or there lack of. Many women would agree that the conundrum about whether to, or when to have a baby, or in fact whether they are able to have a baby is one of the biggest mental burdens for women.
In one painting, there’s a glass containing an elephant balanced on a woman's shoulder, possibly symbolising that idea of containment or confinement that one experiences when suppressing an emotion that society may deem unacceptable, or the act of trying to retain that one ounce of sanity or hope that lives somewhere within the dark abyss that shrouds all judgement.
Fast forward to 2020 and I saw a post come up on my feed about the sale of a T-shirt with the apt slogan printed across the front ‘Black Art Collector’. I wanted it. Upon further enquiry I realised that the t-shirt was being sold by Abi Salami whose work I was very much following at the end of 2019, but had not noticed so much since. I took a wander through her page having recognised the name but didn't see any of the artwork I was familiar with; it was a totally different body of work on display. So whilst I was inquiring about t-shirts I decided to take that as an opportunity to ask Abi more about the change in artwork. She was more than happy to talk to me about it and we scheduled a conversation over WhatsApp. It was early in the morning for her and late at night for me, with both of us in two polarised locations and a time difference of 10 hours. Although I was extremely tired and had had to have a power nap before the conversation, that feeling of tiredness quickly dissipated , when swarmed by the energy that Abi emitted through the phone which was wholly comforting and joyful and actually mirrors the change in her artwork. By the end of the conversation, I felt very much like a member of the ‘art community’ she fervently talked about building.
We got started and immediately I knew this wasn’t going to be like a formal interview- more like a sister circle. Although there were only two of us, our outstretched arms, openness and desire to share was reminiscent of a house full of thriving black women animatedly sharing stories of the office, hair salon, home and beyond.
So why the change? I just threw it out there. No beating around the bush. The answer, one I wasn’t expecting, but wholeheartedly respected.
As explained by Abi, having lived with poor mental health herself, her mission was to share these experiences with her viewers in order to raise awareness and shed light on an issue that is often taboo in the African community. However, after being ‘rocked mentally’ by the events of 2020 (no need to further elaborate), an ex boyfriend, opened her eyes to the fact that by always painting the negative ways in which she felt, she had almost become fixated on that, thus not allowing herself to wade through it. This realisation prompted her to paint how she wanted to feel rather than her pain and there we can say part of the healing began. As well as this, like the black community world over, triggered by the assassination of George Floyd, Abi was ‘tired, tired of being under represented, tired of being targeted’ the need to ‘tell our actual story and celebrate ourselves’ was even more urgent than ever before. Catapulted out of the sea of covid chaos, armed with greater clarity, Abi’s work transformed to a more delectable message of self care, self preservation and self appreciation encased in a canvas of pastel tones, paler and softer yet still maintaining its bold blackness. A celebration of the black female form in its most holistically honest state- a gift more readily received by the world. This celebration of black femininity however, is so distinctly different to Abi’s previous works in style, tone, use of texture you name it. I had to find out why?
a more delectable message of self care, self preservation and self appreciation encased in a canvas of pastel tones, paler and softer yet still maintaining its bold blackness.
Your work has changed so drastically, it’s almost like two different people. Can you explain?
(laughs) I have bipolar so it's not necessarily strange. If you go back and look at my body of work I have a bunch of drastically different styles. I remember once when I was at a 2-day exhibition in 2018. I had all my different styles there and people kept thinking it was a different artist. I had to keep explaining, ‘Nope! All of this is me.’ During the event a psychotherapy, who was working upstairs in the building, came down and was looking at this one piece I had that was called ‘An Ode to my Anxiety.’ He looked at it and then he instantly said ‘You suffer from anxiety?’ I said yeah and confessed that I was bipolar. He said he could see it immediately in my work. ‘I can see the different personalities - the mania. I can see it all over your work.’ he said. So yes, that's why it looks like a full and drastic turn but, I think the similarity is within the form. I love figurative art. I think there's something so beautiful about the human body, particularly the female body. If you look at the work I created in 2019 there were a tonne of female figures. It's always been something that I'm really into and this time around I’m still focusing on female figures and celebrating blackness and also celebrating Africaness, it's just less direct.
Why are there less direct visual references to Africa? Is this a conscious decision?
Well part of me reframing my mindset around painting my mental health also included paring down on detail. If you look at all of the characters I paint now, they usually wear very monotone clothing. It's usually green or pink or white and I guess the general palate is more clean and clear, less congested. But, using green and white is actually me giving a shout out to my homeland Nigeria. I'm still tying in the African, I'm just not doing it in print because that's a tonne of detail and that's anti what I'm trying to do right now which is less detailed but still getting the same message across. I’m still doing it, but just not in such a direct way. In fact, when I was working on the outfits for some of the girls in this series, especially Child of No Nation, I went back and looked at the outfits worn during national service in Nigeria: the white shirt, green sleeves and collar, worn with the green khaki short. It was a way of tying it back to Africa without the print or detail.
Also in 2019 when I did the series and did use a lot of African print and African wear, what I was trying to do was shed light on the fact that mental health issues are an issue within the African Community. I wanted that to be direct and I thought that putting African attire on the people made it more relatable to people on the African continent or within the diaspora. I wanted them to see themselves in the art and think this is an issue that doesn't just affect Western people, it affects me too and we have to pay attention. We all know somebody that's probably suffering right now but because it's not discussed or it's not addressed, so many lives are senselessly lost because of that-it's not necessary, all we have to do is have a conversation and help the person get help.
Why is it so important for you to get this message across?
People don't think poor mental health is an illness. My mum struggled for years to accept that I had poor mental health. In her head she just thought that when I came to America I was just trying to act American. I was seeing a therapist in 2014 and the therapist suggested that she come to the session with me. I don't know how she came, but by the grace of God she did. For the first 45 minutes my mum was very resistant to anything the therapist was saying. She didn't believe any of this was real. Eventually, my therapist had to break it down to her. I remember her saying, ‘you know it's possible for lungs to be sick yeah?’ ‘Like lung disease’, my mum responded. ‘Same with a heart, yeah?’ Again my mum understood this as heart disease. ‘Is the brain an organ? Is it possible for the brain to be sick?’ My therapist probed. And here it clicked for her; it is the sickness of the brain, it's not this nebulous feeling of having too much or not being in Nigeria suffering because you're worried about electricity or food or whatever. It’s an actual illness. You're just not producing whatever is necessary to think like a normal person. Through showing my work, I'm able to open up a similar conversation and create an environment in which I’m able to break down poor mental health for people in a way that they can better understand, even if it's about themselves. I can explain that just like some people have asthma or whatever due to a deficiency, others have a problem with producing chemicals in the brain like serotonin causing poor mental health issues . It’s the same; it's a deficiency. It is nothing to feel bad about. This for me is very empowering, and can save lives.
As well as being somebody who experiences poor mental health, you're a black woman. How does this play a role in your new body of work?
I take the black female form and paint it over and over again until it's normalised. I always make sure my characters have natural hair because I didn't grow up seeing natural hair. I remember several times during my childhood wanting to grow out my natural hair and being heavily discouraged against it. I think that if I had seen more images of natural hair growing up, I wouldn't have been so scared of my blackness and I'd have been way more confident.
Also, if I think back actually, when I grew up in Nigeria my skin was great. I didn't mind being black. It was great. However, when I got to the US. I suddenly discovered that I was a black person and my skin was always an issue. So now, the people I paint have this purple tint to them. I have always associated purple and blackness together. Initially wanting to differentiate my work, I found these really cool almost muted purpley colours that I now use for the skin tones. I love how it looks. I think it makes the blackness of the characters more striking and it draws you in because you're like ‘Wait! I know that's not the right skin tone but somehow it works’. It's my way of celebrating blackness -it's so regal and so grand. With the purple I feel like I'm making the skin more royal - something that needs to be celebrated. Therefore, hopefully the younger generation that looks at my work can feel like: This is me. I am royal. I am regal. I do not feel like I need to do anything to change myself because I'm good how I am.
Have these changes affected who your collectors are?
Yes, I would say that earlier on my collectors were almost exclusively black and since I started with this new style, which as you explained is more accessible, I've got people of different races buying my work. I think they appreciate the blackness in it and they love it .I often have people asking how do you get the skin tone to look so beautiful, so regal? A question that makes me glow on the inside.
How do you feel about this change?
I like that there's other people appreciating my work because of what I'm talking about. I think that it is important that everyone gets the message, because poor mental health affects everybody. Yes, I want to make sure that the people that look like me get that message too but I would rather everybody get that message. People need to understand that you need to take care of your mental health and you need to engage in self care. I also want people to understand that black women in particular are under different stresses than others and so we need self care more than anyone else. Therefore, my work is normalising that: normalising black women taking a day off and enjoying themselves; normalising black women wearing luxury items because it makes them feel good; normalising black women’s natural hair or whatever different hairstyles they choose, and having people realise that depicting that on a canvas can be considered fine art. It doesn't have to be just an art niche ‘black art.’ My art is black because I am black. Not black because that’s what I’m choosing to create.
What response have you had as a result of the change? And what effect has it had on you as an artist?
With this new style, unintentionally, it's made my message more accessible and I think people are responding to it well. My collectors are genuine. I talk to them at least once a week. They DM me, they're sending me hearts. One of my collectors purchased a piece as a surprise for his wife. He told me that the first thing she said when she saw it was ‘I am her and she is me.’ This almost made me cry. This is exactly what I want people to feel when they see my work. The response to this new body of work has been amazing. I like the fact that I’m somehow creating a community with these people from all over the world. I think community for me is the keyword. What I'm building right now is like an art community around Abi Salami.
Kommentarer