Born in Belgium, 1971. Lived part of my childhood in Ahoada, Nigeria. In 1994 I started a lettercarving studio in Ghent, Belgium. I carved letters in stone for 25 years. in 2008 I finally decided it was time to get serious about...
Read MoreBorn in Belgium, 1971. Lived part of my childhood in Ahoada, Nigeria. In 1994 I started a lettercarving studio in Ghent, Belgium. I carved letters in stone for 25 years. in 2008 I finally decided it was time to get serious about art so I went to de Academie of Fine Arts in Ghent and got my degree sculpture in 2015. Since then I have done group and solo exhibitions, mainly in Belgium.
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The world is a big place, home to more than 8 billion people, each carrying dreams and desires, hopes and struggles; and in the midst of it all, my privilege to be an artist. I feel a responsibility to reflect on the vulnerabilities of our shared existence—the fragility of humanity, the delicate balance of society, and our dilemmas in the pursuit of progress versus the destruction of nature. Through my work, I try to question our place within this vast and intricate whole.
Carrara marble fascinates me for its place in art history, its elegance, sturdiness, and perhaps its poshness. In my installations, I like to pair it with something as fragile and fleeting as a thermal blanket. This combination highlights the contrast between strength and fragility, permanence and change, privilege and need. Through my work, I try to invite the viewer to reflect on our world, examine our position within it, and explore the fragile connections that binds us all.
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these times / any time
wake upit’s 04:18 amend the nightmarethe unrestthe grinding insomnialook at the starsbrightening upthe midnight skyand the darknesshiding the painthe howlsthe cracking woodsthe swells of fearoverwhelming the chestof fire-staring men
for hope is a forcenot a privilegea driver of lifea long-longed sunrise
screams moveleft and rightup and downpavementto penthousefrom mento womento childrenthe money! the money!the money!they screamin the face of deathand destructionwrapped in goldcover the headcover the deadbury the fallenforget the ugliness
stroll the white sandsgo for a swimhang up your laundryplay the piano
the phallus of men will standtoweringlike statues of heroesand conquerorsand the ladiescomplicitwill singsoft spoken wordstheir tongueslicking the earsof the soldiersmen and womenand the men and women to beuntil death be forgottenand houses turn to palacesbuilt with bricksstolen from our neighboursand marblewhite marbleshining bright in the midday sunburning the toes of anyonedaring to enter barefoot
washed up on the shoreor left in the drying sunburied in the rumblethe bodies we rememberthe bodies we forget
