|
|
Golgotha…
Golgotha… Golgotha,
the place of skulls. Golgotha, where Jesus Christ fell into the
hands of brutally productive barbarians, died, descended to
Hades, and rose gallantly again – all in three days. Golgotha,
where the followers of Jesus wept and laughed. Golgotha, where
humanity was renewed, as the Gospels suggest. Like the last
supper before it, Golgotha, with the passion of Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, holds singularly transcendental significance for much
of the human race. Both incidents, however, have their political
and revolutionary significations. I shall return to this in
another project. In the present project, comprising works from
1990 to 2005, I have looked beyond the apocalyptic banquet more
commonly known as The Last Supper, out to the road to
Golgotha…the place of death and rebirth.
The politics and
significations of Golgotha defy the speculations of theology and
the harangues and exploits of postmodern, hit-and-run churchmen.
It underscores the inevitability of death and decay as
preconditions for renewal and regeneration. It underlines the
mortal essence of the human animal as a roadmap to the
otherworld, which religion calls eternity. More than that,
Golgotha vanquishes existential pain and sorrow, not by
circumventing or ambushing them, but by walking through the
experience in the pursuit of happiness.
Here, my notion of
Golgotha is pleasantly metaphorical. It encapsulates my
perception of the Nigerian project – a perpetual gesturing at
fulfilment, which never comes true, owing to the exertion of a
wicked oligarchy which thrives on the suffering of the majority.
Nigeria is headed for Golgotha. It is a downhill momentum. No
one knows what will happen at the foot of the hill. For sure,
the experience, as a matter of logic, will be catastrophic. And
therein lies the primary meaning of Golgotha. But the
significance of Golgotha depends on its secondary essence – the
capacity to renew, to rise again, like the legendary phoenix.
For so many went to Golgotha, but not all were able to rise
again. Wicked people shared Golgotha with Jesus Christ, but they
could not share eternity with him, without prejudice to what
Christ himself said to the repentant robber on the other
cross.
In the 1980s, Nsukka/uli
artists, according to Simon Ottenberg, sought to change
politicians through their works. Of course, they could not
succeed. I am not painting or drawing to change Nigeria’s
bread-and-butter politicians in the 21st century. And
can I? I am only reacting to my environment which has
degenerated and been dehumanized by a crop of fire-eating,
gladiatorial leaders. I am only interrogating my place in that
environment in relation to other factors which share the same
experience and vision.
As Nigeria marches
towards Golgotha bearing the cross of the decentralization of
violence, corruption, and injustice, Golgotha, for me, becomes
an omelette. You have to break an egg to make an omelette. Such
a positive vision of Golgotha is what the present collection of
works holds. In a subtle way, the paintings and drawings are
cathartic heralds of a new dawn.
C. Krydz Ikwuemesi
Heavensgate,
October 22, 2005
|
