It’s too much work to start on white canvas – Polly Alakija

How would you describe your style? I don’t consciously have any kind of style. To me, your art work is your signature. I hope I have a Polly style. I hope my style is unique to me. I just try to be honest with myself. If there is anything, I think it is figurative, relatively […]

It’s too much work to start on white canvas – Polly Alakija

How would you describe your style?

I don’t consciously have any kind of style. To me, your art work is your signature. I hope I have a Polly style. I hope my style is unique to me. I just try to be honest with myself. If there is anything, I think it is figurative, relatively easy to read. It’s not conceptual. You can see objects and recognize that it’s a story. 

How affordable are your works?

I am very affordable. I want to make sure that if you like my work you can buy a Polly. I do try to commercialise my work. So I do a lot of reproductions. If you can’t buy a Polly for a million naira, you can buy one for a thousand naira. If you like my work, I want you to be able to have access to it. That’s what I’m trying to do. 

Is there any particular reason you choose to work with earthy colour tones?

I’m not quite sure why because when I work, I always kind of work onto a middle tone. I always start with the colour as it is, maybe that’s a bit of laziness, but I can’t cope with starting work on a white canvass. That’s far too much work to do. Anything you put onto white is a huge contrast. Whereas, if I start with a middle tone, I’m half way already to whatever I want to do. Whether I’m going light or dark. 

Where the earthiness comes from?

That earthy tone is because it rhymes with any colour. I love colour, I respond to colour but I never dictate. When I work on something, the colours kind of suggest themselves. When I create something, if I sit down say I want the colour scheme to be xyz, I know it won’t work out. The colours kind of suggest themselves. A lot of people also ask me how come my colours are so strong. A lot of artists, especially those who have trained in Nigeria where there is a lot of colour mixing going on. I rarely mix my colours. As they come out of the tubes, is how I use them. You look at paint manufacturers; they’ve been making paints for hundreds of years creating these beautiful colours. As far as I am concerned it is beautiful as I see it come out of the tube. I’m always lecturing the young artists and students who work with me and tell them to stop murdering their colours. 

Where did you train and how did you start working in Nigeria?

I’m from the UK and I grew up there. My family is very much into the arts. We did music, dance, painting. We always had loads of art going on in the house. For me it was normal to paint and draw. It was normal to have an artist in the house painting. We always went around with sketch pads in our pockets, playing music and all that. That’s my background. There was no starting point for me. I grew up in the 70s, 80s UK which is completely different from now. I was independent quite early and went to art school to do a foundation course. I was always working while I studied and quite enjoyed having an income and being independent. So I then did a teaching diploma afterwards because it was a quick way to earning an income and being independent. That’s how I went into education. I have always liked combining education and with working as an artist. I had my first studio space at 17 and have always had one since then. My late husband brought me here. My first trip to Nigeria was in 1986 when he brought me here for a holiday. We got an old VW Jetta and we drove across Nigeria, from Lagos to Jos, Zaria, Kano, Sokoto and ended up in Niger by accident. But I loved it. 

Could you tell us the idea behind your work, ‘Falomo Under bridge, Ikoyi?’ 

It is partly the result of me trying to commercialize my work. It’s all about doing limited edition prints. But I kind of feel I’m not going to do a print of a painting that I’ve done. I tried moving back to the UK in 2011 and failed miserably. My agent there was telling me, “Polly, nobody is going to buy these big canvasses. You should try to start painting small canvasses. I’m basically unable to do small canvasses. I find it very, very difficult. Then I realized that if I do prints, I could paint ridiculously big and then reproduce it small. My comfort zone is murals and painting in public space. But nobody in England was willing to let me do that. The first object I painted was an old caravan and it just caught everybody’s imagination. The moment I did that, people started saying “Polly can you paint my truck,” can you paint my this and that and they just kept suggesting. What I like about it is that there are sorts of layers about it. This is an old molue. We all identify with these old molues. You remember going on one of them and have a story about it. You can access the image and appreciate it without difficulty. 

What was the motivation behind the composition?

It is a combination of things that come together in this. I have painted these other vehicles and I had the opportunity to paint the molue, so it became the canvas. I was working with somebody who had a home for physically challenged children and I thought, let’s use this as a PR stunt to create awareness for your home. I didn’t want to dwell on the negatives so I decided to paint able bodied people instead. There is a group of dancers I worked with at Freedom Park, Lagos. I painted them in this work. The story started formulating in my mind, they dance in Freedom Park which is beside the Colonial prison, they have the freedom of being able bodied which these children do not have. The black lines of the molue which could also represent the bars of a prison, or the strings on a talking drum as the dance all happened with drumming. All these different elements came together.