Art in the Age of Anxiety: “Blood Clots” By Kayode Ojo
By Emilee Bick and Cameron Liberty
Amidst the many art galleries of the bohemian Lower East Side lies Salon 94, an exhibition space edgier than most. The latest offering features a photo of a woman’s legs, sprawling from a delicate violet perfume bottle. Nearby hangs a picture of a bloodshot eye, and another of a raw piece of meat, a knife and a fork poised to dig into the red flesh. This is “Blood Clots”, the latest show curated by African-American sculptor and photographer Kayode Ojo, 28.
The simplicity of the gallery, with its stark white walls, poured concrete floors, and exposed wooden beams, provides a sharp contrast to the visceral pieces of mixed media and photography that Ojo selected to provoke the viewer. “Blood Clots” focuses on mental and bodily anxiety, a theme Ojo finds especially present in these politically fractured times. He chose pieces that explore class divides and decay.
“In 2018 there is an idea of the digital and smooth, a young and privileged identity,” Ojo says in his deep, smooth voice. “People don’t accept the fact that the body can get sick and… fall apart.” He leans back in his swivel chair and says with a vexed sigh, “It is being pushed under, but it is still there.”
Ojo said the concept of the show began with the idea of bruises. From there, he began to think about what happens when one bleeds, as a metaphor for inner and outer pain. Blood has to flow with ease through the body, and clots at the site of a cut or injury, he explained. But a clot at the wrong place or time could mean a life-threatening heart attack or stroke. “It’s kind of a… a precarious nature,” Ojo added. His preoccupation with sickness is at odds with his outward appearance; tall, fit and broad-shouldered, he projects easy confidence in a crisp, monochromatic navy outfit.
Ojo was born and raised in the small suburban town of Cookeville, Tennessee, but later moved to New York City to study photography at the School of Visual Arts. Internships at the David Zwirner Art Gallery and the Team Gallery were inroads into the New York art world, which eventually landed Ojo at Salon 94. He then traveled to Switzerland to represent the gallery at Art/Basel, one of the art world’s premier events. Two months later he began contacting artists and selecting pieces to be in “Blood Clots,” which opened in late June.
Ojo began his project by embracing the color schemes of red, purple, and black. Some of the artists had been previously represented by Salon 94 and he then had them view and critique each other’s art. “A lot of these artists have taken risks,” Ojo says, “and for them it’s not just about being aesthetically pleasing.”
“Blood Clots” also examines race and privilege. As a black man Ojo is keenly aware that the gallery world is dominated by wealthy white people, leaving little room for the perspectives of women, people of color, and other marginalized groups. “But Salon 94 is different,” he says. “I want people to think about others’ anxiety and how it affects different class structures. We have to see this suffering and shine a light upon it,” Ojo explains, with a dour look on his face, “but we still have to create a safe space for our art.”
Photographs by Khalik Allah, an African-American photographer and videographer, show three black people in Harlem. In one, a woman smokes and looks away from the camera pensively. In another-a single bloodshot eye that seems to follow the viewer. “People often think they were shot somewhere else in the world,” Ojo says of the photos. “But they were actually shot right here in New York City.”
These portraits contrast with pieces depicting excessive wealth. Ojo’s sculptures, titled “Overdressed,” comprise of jewelry, luxurious fabrics, and human hair extensions. The pieces call to mind rich, hunched over old ladies. Nearby a photo by Jessica Craig-Martin shows a woman’s manicured fingers scooping black glistening caviar out of a bowl.
The centerpiece of the exhibit is a simple sculpture entitled “Clot,” from which the exhibit derives its name. It consists of a disfigured hollow ball, cracked in half and connected to a rectangular white post. A viscous liquid falls through the shell of the ball onto a blue disc. “One viewer saw this and said he was reminded of his eye surgery that he had,” Ojo says. He looked at the interviewer expectantly, waiting for a reaction.
Photos by Emilee Bick
