Currently on view at one-off gallery. The exhibition opened 28 November and runs till 16 January 2021. 

The work examines our bodies in a space and a time of change. The forms are stripped to the bone, flesh and muscle exposed bloody contending with our ultimate and intimate nature, fragments of ourselves returning.

Restless in Rest I 2020 Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas🔴

Then And Now

 Time Loses No Time II (The Letter Series 2010)

Mixed Media on Canvas 30x30cm

The featured painting is part of the “Then and Now” Exhibition at the One off Gallery. 

Then and Now exhibits a range of paintings which are a small representation from The East African Visual Arts Trust (EAVAT) Collection currently held in perpetuity for the people of Kenya.  None of these works are available to purchase but have been paired each with a recent work from the same artist which is for sale.  Many of the works from the Collection were collected between 2000 and 2010; of particular interest is the comparison between the older works and the recent works by each artist. 

In the "letter series", I explored the old art of letter writing as being rendered obsolete by technology. I incorporated stamps, photos, film negatives, and actual letters penned by my father to my mother. The intimacy of the dialogue in the letters obscured with paint and text derived from poems. The letters in their intimacy a revelation of two distinct individuals seen and not just from the maternal or paternal perspective. 

“Times loses no time” represents “Then” and hangs alongside “Resume Your Flesh an Form X”(featured below) which represents “Now”. While the paintings are distinctly different, their context on the ideas of transition and the continuum of life are a theme I’m constantly exploring.

Resume Your Flesh and Form X (2020)

150cm x 100cm

MixedMediaOnCanvas 

Mother

October is a strange month for me. Saying this month stirs up emotions is an over simplification. No amount of elapsed time makes it easier. It’s the month we celebrate my sister’s birthday and we would have also celebrated my mother’s birthday too. Her birthday preceded my sister’s, mother’s birthday was on the 10th and my sister’s on the 11th. She died on the 8th, two days to her birthday. I no longer miss her as intensely as I used to. Saying this out loud feels like a betrayal of sorts and more often than not my mother appears in my dreams and not in any specific way just the usual; we’re about to go out, or we’re hanging out in the house. 

I never recall our conversations, just echoes of voices, the familiarity of her voice, her laughter, and feet moving from one part of the house to another. These dreams always end the same. I’d dream we’re going out on errands; you can hear feet hurrying outside, I always yelling, “I’m coming,” as I ran to the door. I turn to the sound of the latch, as the door locks behind me, only to see the car driving away. I run after it, never really catching up only to see the brake lights as it turns a corner and she’s gone.

I would wake with an ache gnawing ceaselessly at me. I’m reminded of her passing, and I begin to feel the familiar ache that reminds me of an old scab, one that irritates and itches as it heals. There’s no more pain only a reminder of the injury, I scratch away.....

In Progress

The works explore the constant search for meaning, consciousness, estrangement, and the reinventing of self.

Work in progress 

Studio, Siestas and Sleep Paralysis

I sleepily drift off,listening to the radio quietly humming. I cannot quite make out the station.How long did it take me to nod off? I am startled awake- it’s pitch dark and I forgot to switch on the lamp. My eyes can’t quite make out anything in the room. This is the type of darkness that swallows up its own shadow. I blink, blinking in the hope that my eyes will adjust and get accustomed to the darkness in the room. Nothing! It’s quiet, not even the sound of the occasional cricket can be heard. I move, trying to find my bearing, something moves, I cannot quite make it out, Jello-like, fleshy, dark,formless. I start to move but I am frozen, muscles in rigor mortis, I try blinking harder to wake up. I’m I still asleep? The darkness thickens, taking form. Strange!The form looks somewhat like me! Curiously, I lean in, my heart palpitates so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I lean in further, I blink, I turn, the form turns- mimicking me.I try sitting up and slapping my face into wakefulness-nothing happens. I’m panicking and tears sting my eyes- clearly I am now awake. The form that looks like me starts receding. I start towards it, and I fall. 

I’m falling, tumbling through an emptiness,towards a blindingly bright light. Covering my eyes, I squint at the intensity of it. Nothing makes sense-all makes sense. My life is reflected before me, I move, my body is light, lighter than air. I’m looking at the familiar, everything is familiar and somehow it all makes sense, no more,no less. My life lived. I feel a jolt in my heart and realize my eyes are watery. My fingers trace the tears that are running unencumbered down my cheeks and I wipe them with the back of my hand. I experience acceptance, joy at life, the awareness of it all- the pain and as my mind tries to make sense of it all. I’m I dead? Why I’m I seeing this? I am panicking! Only death would explain all this; How did I die? Suddenly I tumble and hit something cold and I am jolted awake -I’m on the floor sweating. Laughing hysterically with fear and relief, I look at the clock- it’s 3 PM! I ease back onto the studio sofa shaking, grasping my paint brush tightly and with mad determination I turn back to the canvas and recall I had taken a break, waiting for the paint to dry. I have looked into the abyss and its stare. All is right with the world...

Diary of An Artist

https://thesoleadventurer.com/diary-of-an-artist-during-covid-19-pandemic-beatrice-wanjiku/

The Rawness of Being.....

https://www.theeastafrican.co.ke/magazine/The-rawness-of-being-when-love-turns-sour/434746-5520258-5jccyb/index.html

In The Midst of The Weeds Beauty and Truth Lies

On my walk, I stop to remove blackjacks which have stubbornly stuck on my clothes in irritation....then stop. Stare surprised at the beauty of their flowers.

I ruminate at the trampled mushrooms....
from hurried steps..
Death arrived, a season interrupted.
I gaze at the cracked earth, awaiting rains seeds buried beneath, soon to break forth

I ponder at our interrupted lives
forced to adopt a different pace that requires more patience than movement
to arrive at our rebirth.
I continue on, carefully avoiding to trample on more mushrooms..
hoping to have gained a little insight.
in the midst of the weeds beauty and truth lies..
life goes on..

In the work I interrogate our reality and the space we occupy by offering an insight into the intersection of our consciousness an eternal quest to understand our realities.

Let slip the Reins V 

Let slip the reins VI 

Studio Rituals

Work in progress 

Would That It Were So Simple...

Saying happy belated new year is an understatement! The year is young and already we’re battling a pandemic. One which calls for isolation and quarantine. Luckily most of these isolated days are spent in the studio.
...all that is required of us to keep the virus from spreading is to self isolate and stay away from each other....would that it were so simple.

Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. 

— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28.