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Why art?

I believe it runs
in the family. The late Okpu Eze, sculptor and president of the Society
of Nigerian Arts in the 1990s, was my uncle. My father does art too,
though not professionally, same with my mum. As a child, I scrawled on
walls and cut up our sofa and got spanked. So I decided to explore my
talent, creating things. I grew up and decided to pursue art
professionally. Today, when I scrawl things and cut up stuff, I get
paid for it instead. I think that’s fascinating. So why not?

Training

I was trained at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (1995-2001). I read Fine and Applied Arts; and majored in Painting.

Medium

I used any medium,
anything that catches my fancy. I use acrylic in my paintings and then
found materials in my installations and other experimental forms of art.

Influences

I’m influenced by
anything that appeals to me. I’m influenced by other artists too,
whether nigerian or overseas. I’m also very interested in Architecture
and Design, as well as the fashion industry.

Inspirations

I’m inspired to
create things that will speak beyond my mouth. Any piece of art that
can stand on its own, that speaks for itself without me saying so much.
Anything that tends to be simple yet deep. I’m also inspired by
everything Imust have encountered in the last 30-something years.

Best work so far

I don’t have a best
work. Every work of art I create is unique, peculiar to itself. It’s
like asking a father to choose which of his children is best — it’s as
difficult as that.

Least satisfying work

Any work that is
still in my studio, that the owner has not collected. I just keep
criticising myself. I keep adding and removing stuff, touching and
retouching until someone comes and takes the piece away.

Career highpoint

All the points I’ve
reached in my career so far have had their own interesting points. So,
I can’t really pick any right now. I’ve had some thrilling moments; i
just can’t pin any down.

Favourite artist living or dead

I have a lot of
good artists I admire, but I don’t really think I have a favourite. I
admire people like Kandisky, El Anatsui and my late uncle, Okpu Eze.
There’s an architect I also admire, Savin Couelle; he is a great
architect, his works are ethereal and organic. I’m also a fan of any
classical and experimental architecture.

Ambitions

My ambition is to
see our contemporary life and culture borrow from our past/traditional
culture. If you look around today, so many of our buildings are modern
and europeanised — oyinbo stuff. Go to any european city, you will see
that they value architecture from different periods in history, whether
it’s neo-classical, victorian or gothic. But here in Nigeria, we rarely
see our traditional mud-hut incorporated into modern life. I would like
a reflection of our traditional culture in our general way of life —
speaking, dressing and so on. So the little I can do to make this
possible, that is my ambition.

Why art?

I believe it runs
in the family. The late Okpu Eze, sculptor and president of the Society
of Nigerian Arts in the 1990s, was my uncle. My father does art too,
though not professionally, same with my mum. As a child, I scrawled on
walls and cut up our sofa and got spanked. So I decided to explore my
talent, creating things. I grew up and decided to pursue art
professionally. Today, when I scrawl things and cut up stuff, I get
paid for it instead. I think that’s fascinating. So why not?

Training

I was trained at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (1995-2001). I read Fine and Applied Arts; and majored in Painting.

Medium

I used any medium,
anything that catches my fancy. I use acrylic in my paintings and then
found materials in my installations and other experimental forms of art.

Influences

I’m influenced by
anything that appeals to me. I’m influenced by other artists too,
whether nigerian or overseas. I’m also very interested in Architecture
and Design, as well as the fashion industry.

Inspirations

I’m inspired to
create things that will speak beyond my mouth. Any piece of art that
can stand on its own, that speaks for itself without me saying so much.
Anything that tends to be simple yet deep. I’m also inspired by
everything Imust have encountered in the last 30-something years.

Best work so far

I don’t have a best
work. Every work of art I create is unique, peculiar to itself. It’s
like asking a father to choose which of his children is best — it’s as
difficult as that.

Least satisfying work

Any work that is
still in my studio, that the owner has not collected. I just keep
criticising myself. I keep adding and removing stuff, touching and
retouching until someone comes and takes the piece away.

Career highpoint

All the points I’ve
reached in my career so far have had their own interesting points. So,
I can’t really pick any right now. I’ve had some thrilling moments; i
just can’t pin any down.

Favourite artist living or dead

I have a lot of
good artists I admire, but I don’t really think I have a favourite. I
admire people like Kandisky, El Anatsui and my late uncle, Okpu Eze.
There’s an architect I also admire, Savin Couelle; he is a great
architect, his works are ethereal and organic. I’m also a fan of any
classical and experimental architecture.

Ambitions

My ambition is to
see our contemporary life and culture borrow from our past/traditional
culture. If you look around today, so many of our buildings are modern
and europeanised — oyinbo stuff. Go to any european city, you will see
that they value architecture from different periods in history, whether
it’s neo-classical, victorian or gothic. But here in Nigeria, we rarely
see our traditional mud-hut incorporated into modern life. I would like
a reflection of our traditional culture in our general way of life —
speaking, dressing and so on. So the little I can do to make this
possible, that is my ambition.

Facebook has its
moments. What I never hoped for, however, was to learn of the death of
Eni-Jones Umuko on Facebook. But that’s precisely what happened on
February 28, 2011.

My current Facebook
status reads, “Now this is terrible. I have just read that our much
loved and highly respected lecturer, extra-ordinary actor, and
visionary director, Eni-Jones Umuko has died in an automobile accident.
I hope he misheard somebody. What’s Eni doing dying just a few months
after Esiaba?” I think it captures both my shock at the news, and holds
a prayer that there had been some kind of error.

My hope of a recant
was quickly dashed by a text message from Georgina Ehuriah who
co-organised the ‘Return of The Minstrel’ tribute show for Esiaba Irobi
last year. It read: “Eni-Jones ran into a trailer this afternoon. I
just got the awful news. He is dead. We have been busy the past two
weeks planning Esiaba’s first year memorial, with him as the anchor…”
Then Big George Anozie responded to my status; “Hi. I’m afraid he’s
right. Eni is truly gone. May his soul rest in peace.” Confirmed.
Eni-Jones as we knew him was gone from this earth – forever. Forever!
At a time like this, I pray that my belief in reincarnation is true,
and that even though Eni’s exit may appear final to us, it really marks
the beginning of his fuller experience of the wonders of life and the
beauty of God’s infinite universe. So then, I sing to him:

Of a million and one ways to re-astral, brother,

it had to be the organic against masses of steel?

Without gifts of precognition, and telekinesis, this dance, chokes in an arena of the too ordinary.

We should see the oceans that hunger for us and own the power to will them to drought.

Those Nsukka Days

As it turns out, my
only experiences and interaction with Eni-Jones Umuko were at Nsukka. I
feel privileged to have been directed by him in some important
theatrical roles: as Iyase in Sam Ukala’s ‘The Slave Wife’; Dr Egbunike
in Nnamdi Ndu’s ‘Scars That Mar’; Elesin in Wole Soyinka’s ‘Death and
The King’s Horseman’, ‘The Masked Spirit’; and Afo in Emeka Nwabueze’s
‘When the Arrow Rebound’s. He also taught me African Theatre and
Advanced Acting Skills at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka.

Umuko was a great
actor and was intriguing as the Praise Singer in ‘Death and the King’s
Horseman’. I described his direction of that play as “out of this
world” in my piece ‘Esiaba Irobi, the intellectual terrorist’ (NEXT;
May 9, 2010). I have also previously acknowledged his writing and
performing skills in ‘Rhythm Wednesdays: Reflections on the Anthill
Days at Nsukka,’ in which I mentioned how “Eni-Jones Umuko knocked me
silly with his poems in Pidgin English.” But I think that it is in the
Preface to my 2010 play, ‘Funeral of the Minstrel’, that I acknowledge
what encountering Umuko meant to me and my training, thus: “Esiaba
Irobi taught me Theatre History, Improvisation, Basic Acting Skills and
Introduction to Playwriting… He was the most engaging teacher I have
ever had in my life. The only person that came close to him in the
classroom was Eni-Jones Umuko. These two people had drama flowing
through their veins. They made learning fun, and made us proud to be
dramatic artists at a time some people still sniffed at Dramatic
Arts… Irobi and Umuko made us feel it was the best thing in the world
to be a part of.”

At the time of
writing that preface, I had no idea that just a few months down the
line, I would be writing about the passing of Eni-Jones. It is so hard
to fathom. Every death like this makes us evaluate and re-evaluate our
mortality. Perhaps the person that has articulated this tragedy best
for me is Artist and Poet, Olu Oguibe who chipped in a comment on my
page, that “Eni-Jones has travelled on to join his good friend. The
eagle has left his perch. Dark clouds all around me.”

Unbelief

There is still a
lot of shock in the reactions of friends to the passing of Eni-Jones.
Writer and director of ‘Aramotu,’ Niji Akanni states: “Eni-Jones dead?
Please, Lord, let someone check again and tell us here it’s not true.
Lord, please. Esiaba, Eni-Jones and I: we were the Three Musketeers for
a brief while at Paul Robeson Buidling. Lord, please.” Unfortunalely,
the Lord had already allowed it. Onuora Ude, Dramatist and Umuko’s
former student, wonders; “It is hard to believe – Amankulor, Enekwe,
Esiaba, and now Eni-Jones…?” Former Anthill anchorman, Jachimike
Adiele, says it is “So sad. And we were all together at Abuja mourning
and celebrating Esiaba not so long ago.” While Umuko’s former student
at Nsukka, Eni Kenneth Efakponana chips in that “It’s very sad. I was
with him on Friday. I was supposed to pick up Esiaba’s plays from him
for consideration for production to mark Esiaba’s one year remembrance.
He was already planning for the event. It so sad.” What can anyone say?
The two great artists are probably sharing peppersoup on the other
side, reviewing their lives and making some kind of sense of it all.

Yet at this point I
must applaud Eni-Jologho Umuko (Eni-Jones to us) for what I believe was
a beautiful life. He loved life and enjoyed it to the maximum. He was
probably the only lecturer during our student days I remember partying
together with. I would walk into a bar with a friend and if Eni was
there, he would buy us a couple of Premier beers. I remember a man who
might have said to the collector of souls who came for him, “It is OK.
Ok. I had fun here. Let’s go.” Eni-Jones Umuko is dead. Long live
Eni-Jones Umuko.

Eni-Jones Umuko died on February 28, 2011. He is survived by one wife and four children. He was 57.

Nnorom Azuonye is the Publisher of ‘Sentinel Literary Quarterly,’ ‘Sentinel Nigeria’ and ‘Nollywood Focus’ magazines.

Asa’s earliest
memory was singing through the painful hours it took her mum to braid
her hair for school when she was little. As a child, Bukola Elemide
(her birth name) had realised the power of music to exorcise pain and
disillusionment. And she never let go of that knowledge. “The
recollection that stands out the most is that I was constantly singing,
that was all I did. My parents often scolded me for it.” Of course it
must not have helped that her father, a cinematographer, had an
eclectic collection in his audio library. Asa cut her musical teeth
listening to Juju, Apala, Blues, Afro beat, and Raggae; trying them out
and gradually forming her own musical sense from these influences.

Born in France, Asa
moved to Nigeria at age two, living in several places before finally
settling in Lagos. She chalks her peripatetic life to “decisions that
your parents make and you just follow.” She did eventually finish her
secondary education at Federal Government College, Jos.

Growing up in
Nigeria is not one of happy reminisces for the musician who was the
only female of four children. “It is normal for an African girl to take
up the mother role; you are trained to be responsible. But I am a free
soul, and I spent a long time fighting for freedom.” Asa’s need to
break out of the mould resulted in an insularity which she is now only
coming to terms with. “Asa has just grown; I missed out when I was a
teen because I was so into my own world,” she says.

She ultimately
attained her long-sought freedom when her parents endorsed her decision
to relocate to coastal Badagry, on the outskirts of Lagos State, to
study music. This time, she says, was six months well spent mastering
the guitar. With the hindsight of two successful albums, and a number
of international nominations and awards including the 2008 Prix
Constantin for French new talent, Asa sees her Nigerian upbringing as
the inspiration for her musical success. “I learnt morals and a
compassion that I would not have had growing up in Europe. In Nigeria,
you learn to improvise, to become a survivor. My family went through
phases of tough times, Nigeria toughens you that way. You learn to
think.”

Evolution between albums

Asa’s debut image
may have positioned her as Bob-Marley and Tracy Chapman rolled into a
youthful, contemporary whole, but with her sophomore album, she appears
to have embraced a more feminine and optimistic sense of style and
music. This, she explains as a change in mindset: “While composing my
first album, I was like an angry teen; I wanted to talk about so many
disappointments without seeing it from the world’s point of view. I was
an angry person who did not understand why things were the way they
were.

Having said all
that I had to say in my first album, I now am less burdened; and with
‘Beautiful Imperfection’, I am speaking from the point of view of a
woman who has experienced life. I have a renewed sense of self and I
know that there’s room for negotiation. I just wanted to be happy and
uplift people with my music.” Blood red nails, a carefully made-up
face, coiffed dreadlocks and form-fitting attire are a further
reflection of this change in outlook. Especially for a musician whose
national appeal had – besides her soul searching lyrics – had a lot to
gain by her eschewing of a feminine flamboyance in favour of a more
staid, if unconventional, appearance.

Asa’s anger,
however, still targets naysayers, who peddle untruths about her.
Speaking on a recent libel suit she launched against a media company,
which had sought to query her sexuality and relationship her with her
best friend and manager of eight years, she exhibits a contemplative
equivocation. “I did sue them. People do not watch their mouths, and
it’s especially horrible when it is not true. But with these
situations, you never know if it’s the right thing to do.”

Beautiful Imperfection

While still
largely cut from the same poignant socio-political criticism mould of
her self-titled debut, she softens things up in ‘Beautiful
Imperfection’ with pop track ‘Be My Man’, admitting a more sensitive
side that she now thinks she is “mature enough to explore”. “My
favourite movie is ‘Pretty Woman’. There is something vulnerable about
a woman who finds her Prince Charming. I’m still cheesy that way,” she
laughs self-effacingly.

Asa’s musical
identity is inspired by her native Yoruba word for ‘hawk’; and one
would think that the young musician who punctuates the interview with
native proverbs, and whose songs (particularly Awe from her debut) are
a wonderful employment of native Yoruba idiom, would be one to boast a
remarkable knowledge of the language; but she reveals, “I don’t speak
Yoruba as well as I sing it; most of my childhood we were spoken to in
English, and in school punished for speaking vernacular. I think that
was one of the biggest mistakes our parents made.”

Taking flight

The
single-mindedness that Asa shares with the avian inspiration for her
name informed a decision to return to the European country of her birth
in 2006 for musical opportunities which she felt she had exhausted.
“Nigeria is a wonderful place to acquire inspiration but pursuing an
individual definition of success is difficult back home. There’s a
close-mindedness concerning what constitutes success.” If she had done
as the society had deemed propitious, she would have kept pace with her
mates, attended university and perhaps gotten a job hustling the nine
to five. “Our parents have brainwashed us with the belief that success
is a direct result of education.” She sings ‘bata mi a dun koko ka’, a
yoruba pedagogical rhyme, to illustrate this. Nigeria is no doubt one
great music export richer for Asa’s refusal to be judged by society’s
standards.

Her remarkable
debut and sophomore albums have been internationally certified platinum
and gold respectively; the latter since its release in October, 2010.
Nominated for Best Female Act at Victoires de la Musique (French Music
Awards); the young guitar-wielding musician recently thrilled the
British media to a performance showcase as part of her on-going tour of
Europe.

These among other international recognitions are more than enough
proof that the world needs a paradigm shift. “Besides,” says the
diminutive 28-year-old who has worked extensively with producer Cobhams
Asuquo and collaborated with Nigerian rappers like 9ice and Naeto C,
“travelling the world and trying out restaurants in the countries I
visit is so much fun, even if my band and I have been on the bus,
camping out on tiny bunk beds all week.” Asa will be performing on a
double bill with Ivorien Reggae Musician Tiken Jah Fakoly on April 4 at
the Barbican, London, as part of her European tour.