A visual dedication to Fela Anikulapo Kuti

Fabric paint on cotton (2006)

Fela, I may have failed you here. But an artist does not always represent reality. I blame it on Sorrow, Tears and Blood though - it was somberely playing in the background while I applied brush strokes. I was still trying to see sense in the notion that 'fabric paint, just like watercolour, is a sensitive medium and may not allow layer upon layer to be applied on the surface', unless one is experimenting. Well, I won't say that was motive. I was not out to disprove anything,
I had acknowledged long time ago that art is a personal thing. What works for one person doesn't necessarily work for everybody else. I swear Fela, I was not using your iconic image in vain. Sorrow, Tears and Blood was weighing heavily on me. And the fact that I had set the player on 'repeat-one' mode did not help me very much - fabric paint stroked as if forever on the cotton, which almost became wet to a point of the colour running wild within the contours of the fabric, almost rendering my creation border-less and blurry. Unlike my earlier habit of destroying creations I thought did not represent what I was trying to interpret, I held on to the above piece for the sentimental value it bears. As a result, every time I look at it, Sorrow, Tears and Blood plays in my mind rekindling a special memory.

Fabric paint on cotton (2008)

It would take a while before I could reach for my brushes again, but when I did, again overcome by your advocacy for the masses, I reflected my view of your album cover on the cotton once again. I must say I was less concerned with self-restriction that my need to create meaningful work normally has on me on this occasion. And that striking image of you holding your horn prompted me to represent you in monochrome using the background of a black cotton fabric as a shade for the less visible parts of your figure as you stood on that cover. Zombie was seeping from my speakers then and for some reason, I was reminded of Thandiswa Mazwai's rendition of this incredible song in the 2006 edition of The Cape Town Jazz Festival. She nailed it Fela. I swear you would have fallen in love with her right there. But who would not; she's an admirable gift to music. I'm sure you know her by now, she's sings for the people too, a bonafide artist. You guys on the other side are said to see everything. I'm sure you know of this gem.

With that remembrance, I found myself gentle and economical with those strokes of white. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that I was using only one colour. But again, Thandiswa's fragile voice I remembered of her homage to you, inspired this delicate approach. Do you know that she controlled her voice so well that the peaks in her vocals were almost scolding? I'm sure you saw that Fela - spirits are said to see all.

I hope you like the monochromic representation more than the multi-coloured one above. If you don't, know that I love you nonetheless. If it's not my ideas in my efforts you'll relate to, then hold on to the love and admiration I have for you.
I could say rest in peace Fela, but knowing how troubled Africa is today, I doubt you will find value in my words about rest. Instead sing on! Sing louder wherever you are. For what you had been singing about is as relevant today as it had been all these years.

© Deon Simphiwe Skade
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