Anthony Azekwoh is Funny, Occupied and Occasionally Love-Avoidant
About a week ago, I texted Anthony about my desire to have a conversation with him, to highlight the exciting and perhaps, mundane parts of his life — nothing about his artistry or work; just Anthony. After a series of texts, we agreed to link at Yenwa Gallery, which, fortunately, happened to be where his second solo exhibition in Nigeria was ongoing. I should have known that meeting in a place adorned with his work would probably lead to us talking about his artistry and work, but that’s okay.
Walking into the Gallery minutes after I had arrived, Anthony was on a call with a colleague. He was dressed in a black native ‘senator’ attire like a man who was ready to make a woman swoon. I was sitting on a chair as he walked towards me. He got off his call briefly, looked at me with a cheerful, yet stressed smile and extended his arms in a hug. I stood up and leaned in. His embrace was warm.
Earlier that day, I had seen a painting he created, which was inspired by Rema’s artistry and his new Ravage EP — Ravager. I thought it was pretty cool and pparently, so did thousands of people. Besides the Ravage EP being an incredible body of work, it made sense that Anthony would be inspired by it because according to him, red happens to be his favorite color to paint — props to his insanely famous painting, the Red Man and the Red Lady, which pays homage to the former.
“What’s your favorite song on the EP?” I asked, beaming at him because he sounded pretty excited talking about it already.
“Smooth Criminal,” he replied enthusiastically, telling me about how he fell in love with it from the moment he watched the teaser video which was a part of Rema’s rollout.
Smooth Criminal is a pretty solid record, but then I asked, “You don’t like Red Potion?” It was more of me questioning his taste than suggesting another song he might be interested in.
Anthony gave me an unsure look and shrugged, like by doing that, he was resisting a wave of confusion.
“Hmm nah not really…” he said while opening his Instagram app. “Look at his nau,” he continued, playing the Smooth Criminal teaser reel — a less judgmental way of telling me he questioned my taste.
I laughed. “Fair enough.”
“How long did it take you to paint that?” I asked.
“I got the idea from the moment I saw the teaser, but I started working on it last night.”
“Oh cool.”
We talked for a bit about what we’ve been up to and then he asked about how I’ve been and I told him “Fine” which he followed up with “Nobody in this Nigeria is fine.” Little did he know that asking me about the state of my mental health would remind me of the fact that he had been more like a ghost in the past few months.
“For real, I’ve just been so busy. There has been a lot going on, man. You see how many calls I’ve been on since we started?” Nigerian men and lies.
“I actually lost my EA too,” he continued.
“Did she resign? Did he resign?” I asked.
“You’re so sexist, man.”
I laughed. “I literally asked if ‘he’ resigned too.”
“Damn. So sexist. What made you think it was a woman?”
“I literally said ‘he!’” I exclaimed, chuckling. I was frustrated.
Anthony shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Well, he got promoted.”
“To what?”
“My project manager.”
“What’s his name?”
“Fego.”
“Like F-E-G-O?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
Anthony chuckled. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.”
“Are you one of those people who don’t ask for further details when people tell you things?”
“About me or them?”
“About them.”
“I ask for further details but mainly for the wrong reasons. Mainly because I love gisting,” Anthony said in a giggle.
I laughed. “So if someone tells you they lost their job, would you ask them what happened?”
Anthony squinted in suspicion. “I feel like this is leading somewhere.”
“No. I’m really just asking.”
“Did you lose your job?” He asked with keen, amusing interest.
“No, I didn’t lose my job.” What a man.
“You know. I’d actually like to have one of those jobs where money comes in at the end of every month.”
“That stable 9–5 check right? It feels so good.”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“But I actually don’t think you’ll do so well at it. I think you’ll be late everyday and they’ll probably have to let you go.”
“Real.”
We talked more about 9–5 jobs, fraudulent jobs and Anthony talked about how ending up at Kirikiri for fraudulent activities is not much of an interesting concept to him. It wasn’t long after that Anthony decided to tell me more about his exhibition — There is a Country, and it was pretty exciting getting to know more about what was going through his head when he curated the experience. From Chinua Achebe’s personal account of the Biafran war in ‘There was a Country’ — and the circumstances surrounding it, to his view of Nigeria — Nigeria, an Institution and Nigeria, by the People, which manifested greatly in the 2020 END SARS Protest. He also highlighted the deficit in the society which is expressed in the Animal Talk series — a critique against People, Police, Politician and Pastor.
The thing about talking about Nigeria is that you speak so much about the woes, chaos, instability and suffering, but you still have this feeling, deep in your soul that things will get better, and that is the hope that Anthony constantly speaks of, through his artistry.
“Do you ever think of leaving the country?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I feel like it’s not really my bag. I can travel out there for 3–6 months to have a moment of respite; you know? Just to cool my head and stuff,” Anthony said, rubbing his head. “But this is where my family is, my friends, everyone. Although, almost everyone is leaving now so things might change but I’m still very hopeful. There’s this belief that things will work out in this country. Things could get better and that’s how I feel sometimes.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
“This is really beautiful,” I said, pointing at the largest painting in his exhibition — No Victor, No Vanquished.
“Yeah it’s alright,” he replied in a pretend unconvinced tone.
I giggled. “Do you do that every time people tell you they love your work?”
“It’s just that I’ve seen them too many times and they’re just not as new to me anymore. Sometimes, I stare at stuff too much until I start hating them or start noticing it could have been better. For example, the Ravager painting.”
“I think the painting is pretty great though.”
“Exactly my point,” he said, looking at me. “It needed more work though.”
While we were still speaking, Anthony gets into another meeting, that required his passive attention.
“Have you ever created something with someone in mind?”
Anthony sighed deeply. “Like a romantic interest?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
He chuckled. “It wouldn’t logistically make sense to paint with a romantic interest in mind.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I said, staring at him. Like my stare would urge him to choose the path of righteousness and he’d tell me the truth.
“Okay. I’ve done it once,” he said. “I’ve done it once, okay? You got me. Cool.”
The stare worked.
“Maybe when writing… when writing, for sure. But what inspires me the most when painting is poverty.”
“But that description over there says you’ve never been poor,” I said, pointing at the note describing ‘Animal Talk — People’
“Wow,” Anthony said, almost shocked. “Okay yeah, but still. I don’t have as much money as I’d like,” he continued, vindicating himself.
After a couple of unmuting and chipping into his meeting, the call was over, but it felt like it never really started. He was attentive.
“What’s your favorite thing about painting?”
“I’d say connecting with people through my work.”
“Yea I noticed you love that.” I nodded. “You quote replies, retweet them and reply every comment.” I giggled.
He was smiling, almost blushing. “Yea, it’s really so exciting to see what people think about my work. For example, with the Animal Talk series, there were unique reactions to everything.”
Basically, minds were blown, questions were asked and thrill was found. And still.
In the next few minutes, Anthony interested me in his idea to have separate Twitter apps created — One for level headed people and another for not-so-level headed people. I thought it was a good idea.
“Do you believe in God?” I asked.
“Yes, but not in the traditional way.”
“Do you pray?”
“Yes, I pray,” he said, sternly. “I just believe that God is non-disciminate. Sometimes, the energy is in your favor, other times, it’s not. So even if what I pray for doesn’t happen, we’re still cool.”
“That makes sense.”
It made even more sense because a lot of people think that praying to God comes with an instant “Yes.” Sometimes, it’s “Yes,” other times, it’s “No” or… “Hold on,” but every time, we pray.
I think one of the coolest things about Anthony are his tattoos and their placements. In some way, there is a form of artistry to them — not surprising.
“How many tattoos do you have?”
Giving me an unsure look, he replied, “I think 18 or 21.”
“You don’t know if you have 18 or 21 tattoos?”
“For real.”
“There are two numbers between 18 and 21, Anthony.”
“Do you have tattoos?” He asked, in an attempt to avoid being judged further.
“No, I don’t.”
“Boo! Boo!” Anthony exclaimed, throwing air tomatoes at me.
It was so funny because I found it a rather dramatic but good attempt to make us ignore the fact that he didn’t know if he had 18 or 21 tattoos; not 18 or 19 or 20 or 21, but 18 or 21?
“Do you think you’re a vain person?” I asked.
He was replying some messages and glancing through his calendar, simultaneously. “Yea I think I am because in this line of work, there is not much of an appraisal. For example, an accountant could get some type of accolade or promotion at the end of every year, or a salary bump, but it’s not the same with this, so I have to be egotistical about myself and work to some level and you know, you can’t do what I do and not feel a sense of pride.”
“Do you love yourself?”
He hesitated. “Not yet.”
“But like, you’re trying?”
“Hmmm… am I?”
“What do you love about yourself?”
He was quiet for a second. “I have things I ‘admire’ about myself. For instance, I’m good at solving problems. I can do things simultaneously, while keeping a clear mind through it all. Therapy has helped a lot with that too.”
“How long have you been in therapy?”
“Two to three years.”
I nodded. “That’s impressive.”
“What else do you love about yourself that isn’t work-related?”
He sighed.
“Your cool tattoos?” I gave him a hint.
“I think you’re funny too, -ish.” Another hint.
“Oh I’m hilarious.” he said in a grin.
“Hmm… Just a little.” I chuckled.
“In fact, my standup comedy career is coming soon.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“I’m for real, I have jokes written down,” he ascertains, opening his Notes app.
He did have jokes written down.
“Anyway,” he continued after showing me his jokes. “I would get back to you on that annoying question in ten years,” he said in mock irritation. “Can’t think of anything not work-related that I love about myself right now.”
“I’ll wait.”
I looked at the paintings again and asked, “If you were not painting, what would you be doing?”
“I’ll be dead,” he said assuredly.
I chuckled. “But you wanted to be a Chemical Engineer?”
He chuckled. “I don’t know what Chemical Engineering is about. I kept trying to explain to everyone for five years until I dropped out.”
He did drop out from Covenant University in 2021. According to him and obvious to everyone, his life has changed since then. Personally, I think it’s really important to know what you want from life, go for it with a firm resolve and bet on yourself. Just like Anthony.
“What painting was the most fun to create in this exhibition?”
“None,” he said immediately.
“None?” I was almost surprised.
“None,” he reiterated. “But oh, ‘…And Proud’ was fun to paint. It’s upstairs.”
“Should we go?”
“Yea sure, let’s go.”
“Oh I also loved painting ‘Light’,” he said, when we got upstairs.
One thing about Anthony’s painting — the details in them are perfect!
“Are you a perfectionist?”
“No, I don’t think I am. I’m very much into the process and I allow myself to get better with each process. You know, learning from experience and stuff. A good example is the Ravager painting. It wasn’t perfect to me, but it was all a process.”
“…that was fun,” I added.
“Yes. Pretty fun.”
We took a walk round the floor, while Anthony responded to more work messages.
“I’ll be attending a wedding party this weekend,” he said.
“Me too!” I was excited.
“Where’s your party holding?” Anthony squinted for a reply. Hoping the coincidence follows through.
“Ikeja.”
“Hmmm I’m not sure it’s the same wedding.”
“Not sure too. If we happen to link though, that’d be great.”
“Yeah. Why’s everyone getting married though? There’s a wedding epidemy.” He sounded more confused than curious.
“It’s almost as if everyone decided to get married this year. Like there’s an ultimatum.”
“Exactly”
“When are you getting married?” I asked, jokingly.
“Don’t worry, everyone is going to be so stunned when I announce my engagement.”
I chuckled. “Are you in love?”
“No.” His answer was swift.
“Remember one time we had a conversation about being love-avoidant and we talked about the qualities of a love avoidant and how we think we exhibit them? Do you think you’re still a love avoidant?” I asked.
Anthony was thinking. In a way, it felt like he was trying to recollect. “I guess so.”
“Do you think it’s dependent on how much you love the person or how you are feeling in that moment?”
“Maybe. Because right now, I’m stressed. Work and everything. And I wouldn’t want a situation where someone adds to that stress.” He shook his head.
“Do you shoot your shot?”
Anthony giggled. “I don’t believe in chasing…”
“I don’t mean work shots now,” I interrupted because a part of me could not believe what she was hearing.
“Yea exactly,” he reaffirmed. “Like this year, I haven’t done it. It’s very rare. The energy for chasing and the time is just very stressful. What if they don’t feel the same? What will my family say?”
I sighed. “Do people shoot their shots at you?”
“It happens.”
“Have you been in a relationship before?”
“I was in one, my first one, this year actually.”
“Really? And you always behave like you’re sworn off love.”
He laughed.
“How was it for you?”
“It was good at first. Then I was the problem. I fucked up.”
I nodded. “The avoidant lifestyle.”
“Yeah, avoidance and also my inability to face myself in that particular moment. I hit a couple of lows in work and life and in that moment, there wasn’t a lot of self love. That’s where self love comes in,” he said, nodding at me and making a reference to the question on self love I asked earlier.
“Right.”
“And if someone else is loving you in that moment where you don’t like yourself so much, it can make you feel worse. I was overwhelmed and eventually, I got through that hard time and had a realization, like do you know what would have been great during that hard time?” He paused. “A partner.”
“Exactly.”
“Isn’t that crazy?”
I smiled. “It is.”
“It was an interesting, revealing process, brought me back into therapy.”
“That’s actually great because you want to be better.”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly.
“Or you’re just in therapy so you can have someone who’d listen to you on a regular?” I asked sarcastically.
He chuckled. “I need to be better. If I’m not better, I’m wasting everybody’s time.”
Word.
“Do you miss her?”
“Yea, sometimes. On some days, I see something funny and I’m like, this would have been hilarious if I could share with her, but then, the way my life is moving right now is very unstable.”
“I hear you.”
“Yeah.”
“So personally right? I find it really weird dating a writer…” I started.
“Yeah, that’s fucked up,” he interrupted.
“Exactly,” I said, before I realized that I was actually a writer. “What do you mean that’s fucked up?!”
We laughed.
“Can you date an artist?”
“Have I dated an artist before?” He asked himself. “When you say date though, what do you mean?” He was actually genuinely curious
“What else does it mean? What do people mean?” I asked in perplexity and deep concern for the state of the dating pool.
“Omo, the streets is rugged now o,” he said, like he just had an epiphany.
“I don’t mean situationships, okay? Cross out ‘Oh we’re just talking’ type of date. I mean the actual date, not the Lagos date.”
“Ohh. Nah. I can’t date an artist.”
“Why?”
“I feel like our lives will be too similar.”
“Exactly! Like you’d be in the same box sometimes, like ‘Oh I just painted something, do you want to see?’” I said in mock tone.
He laughed. “Do you get?”
“Do you ever feel like if you shared more with a person, there’s a tendency that they’d like you less?”
“Is there a thing like that?”
Yeah there’s a thing like that, especially if it’s with people that are not very keen on liking you. Like when you tell them more about yourself and your experiences, they just see you like every other regular person.”
“Yea, I get that because I feel like sometimes, people have an idealized version of me because I’m ‘Anthony Azekwoh’ and that’s why I don’t take a lot of shots seriously. You’re shooting a shot at Anthony Azekwoh, the brand, not at Anthony Azekwoh, the man. They have the same name, but we’re completely different people.”
We talked further about grief, how it can be ever-consuming and how never-ending its visits are. Anthony has been very vocal about the loss of his friend, Soluchi and his grandmother over the years — an inspiration for one of his favorite paintings — Light.
“I really like this painting,” Anthony said, pointing at “…And Proud”
“Yeah, it’s a very cool painting,” I replied. “You’re such a cool person.”
“Yeah,” he said in a smirk.
“Sometimes,” I continued, giggling.
“Anyway, that’s basically all my questions for you.”
“You won’t ask me what I want to be in the future?”
“What do you want to be in the future?” I chuckled.
He hesitated. “An Astronaut.”
“How?” I was curious.
“You see, now I can’t wait to be an astronaut and make it, so that when I’m giving TED Talks about being the first African artist to be an Astronaut, I can tell people you laughed at my face and didn’t believe in me.”
“All those ‘back then’ stories, right? That sounds good though, it’ll make your success story sweeter,” I said, giggling.
“Exactly.”
“Astronaut,” I said again in disbelief.
“Do you know what’s funny?” Anthony started. “I can draw so much faster now, but before I start drawing, I ask myself if I can actually execute what I intend to.”
“Do you have that fear always?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do,” he said. “Have you watched Spiderman 3?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“You know that moment when Peter lost his powers and felt helpless?”
“Yeah, that was crazy.”
“I feel like that sometimes.” He looked at me. “So I have to draw first and then, when I start, I’m like, ‘Oh yea, I still got it.’”
He smirked.
