Although my creative aptitude dates back to my childhood, 1986 represents a turning point in my life as an artist. That was the year I sat for "A" Level exams in French and Fine Arts. Preparations for the examination had put enormous demands on me, especially as I was studying at home all on my own, besides having to keep a job as optical technician at Monte Christo, one of the leading optical firms based in Eastern Nigeria.

It was during the preparations for the examinations that I learnt, for the first time, the blending, not necessarily the orchestration, of colour. It was a very exciting experience and it enabled me to paint a few portraits of local folks and friends for a few naira. But the real excitement came when, in the same year, I was "lucky" to see the opening of the maiden Aka exhibition on television. I wasn't really sure what an art exhibition was or what the aims were. But I was enthralled as I listened to some of the Aka artists explain their works. I was particularly touched by the works of Boniface Okafor. The entire experience struck a strange chord in me. I was suddenly able to transcend, on a modest scale, the art of portraiture.

In 1987, I arrived the University of Nigeria to take a degree in art, after a fierce "battle" with my father over my choice of to become an artist. He had wanted me to study law or modern languages for reasons best known to him. But I am glad that I came to Nsukka just in time to witness a little of Olu Ogwibe's much-talked-about radicalism and his penchant for the stultification of conventions. After I saw Oguibe and Greg Odo's unique exhibit, Art in the Street, at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, I felt highly motivated, or should I say, challenged. This feeling culminated in 1990 in the maiden exhibit of the Visual Orchestra, an exhibiting group which I and a few others had contrived in 1989.

In 1991, the Visual Orchestra was at almost moribund. The urge to remain afloat, if that is what it really was, saw me forging new alliances. Two other classmates and I collaborated in a group exhibit; we called it Sacred Energies. Besides Nsukka which was our base, it took us to Enugu and Port Harcourt. The financial demands for the exhibition were so biting that I personally sold my cassette player to be able to participate.

The Visual Orchestra was revived in 1992 with additional membership. Since then I have exhibited annually in Nigeria, not only with the Visual Orchestra, but also singly and with other groups (such as the Pan-African Circle of Artists), participating in an average of four exhibitions a year. I don't make all the money, though; I am not what anyone would call rich. But I am a fulfilled artist, in my own judgement, and am happy to be able to make some small contributions towards the survival of mankind which, to me, is the primary role of the artist.

The last eight years of my life are peopled with lessons, or should I say experiences, bitter-sweet, as they may be. Experience, I am told, is a very good school, although the fees are high. My generation and the one before it have very little or no encouragement for the artist. So I have learnt to be both singer and dancer at once. It is such an attitude that enables one not to be consumed by the survival-of-the-fittest syndrome which has enveloped our psyche in the dying years of this very remarkable century. It further strengthens the spirit, encouraging the average artist, like me, to walk tall and straight through Golgotha, en route the initiation ground, bearing his own cross.

It was J.F. Kennedy, one of American's most illustrious presidents in the 20th century, who said that

When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry cleanses. For art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstones of our judgement. I see little of more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.

By "free", I am sure that Kennedy must be referring to freedom from want and socio-economic shackles, the kinds that have gripped our society in recent years. In our world - a world of Mercedes Benz, of contradictory values, of wasteful building, thoughtless acts, and nihilist trends - Kennedy's humanist vision for the artist remains unattainable.

In an environment like ours, where almost everybody is money-minded, and where artists are fast anchoring their creativity on monetary gains alone, it is very difficult for the humanist and socially committed artist to survive. Intellectual decertification will be quick to occur; collective amnesia and disillusion can take a great toll. But I am happy that I have not lost my compass on the sea of art. I have remained in motion, bound by time and other shackling existential realities. The road has been rather lonesome in the last eight years. But there is a glimmer of hope in the horizon, always. So, like Peter Pan, I can scream, "I am love! I am life! I am the little chick that broke out of the egg!" Because I know that the rainbows shall soon adorn the barren skies and give birth to a beautiful new sun.

C. Krydz Ikwuemesi
April, 1998.