Since receiving his MFA in Painting and Drawing from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago last year, artist Luke Agada’s career has taken off. Early exhibitions in intercontinental group exhibitions—“Collective Reflection: Contemporary African and Diasporic Expressions of a New Vanguard” at the 1957 Gallery in Accra, “Unusual Suspects” at the African Artists’ Foundation in Lagos and “When Wild Roses Grow ” at Berlin’s Kristin Hjellegjerde Gallery—established Agada as an artist capable of expressing cultural identity, ambiguity and self-examination in surrealist works rendered in color palettes reminiscent of his native Lagos. His first US solo exhibition at Chicago’s Monique Meloche Gallery in September of 2023 was followed by a prominent exhibition at Art Basel Miami Beach, where Roberts Projects presented his work in what turned out to be one of the most interesting booths.
All this for someone who has never lived before and has been drawing and selling paintings in his spare time while pursuing a degree in veterinary medicine. But after just a year working as a veterinarian, the Nigerian-born, Chicago-based artist quit to focus on art full-time—a pivot that involved moving from Lagos to the US.
“Far from home, with little familiarity and no family nearby, I felt a sense of longing and longing that eventually permeated my work,” Agada told the Observer. “The pictures I drew began to reveal fragments of my memories, reduced to simplified shapes, shadows and lines—remnants of my past. I sought ways to navigate this longing and explore how the migrant form adapts to the spaces of the world. “
Agada’s style is a fusion of Surrealism and postcolonial theory, and much of his work explores the concept of “third space” popularized by Homi K. Bhabha. With earthy tones, shadows and light, he shows the conflict of memory and migration in psychedelic places where cultural differences and dynamic forces create a place full of tension and distortions that do not represent individuals but the conditions of life.
SEE ALSO: Gillian Varney on the Lumen Award and Its Relevancy Thirteen Years Later
At the opening of “Between Two Suns,” the artist’s first Los Angeles show now at Roberts Projects, the Observer caught up with Agada to discuss her influences, how her life’s journey has shaped her work and what she hopes people will do. remove from display. As his star grows, expect to see more of him.
Your math distortions are unusual—what shaped your visual vocabulary?
In the early stages of my work, I was heavily influenced by European surrealists such as Max Ernst, Yves Tanguy and René Magritte, who based my work on traditional figure painting. Later I was attracted to various modernist movements, especially the modernist influence in American art that challenged conventional representations of the human condition. This interest sparked my desire to push the boundaries of representation in my work.
When I moved to the US for my MFA at SAIC, my approach changed dramatically. Far from home, with little familiarity and no family around, I felt a sense of longing and longing that eventually permeated my work. The figures I visualized began to reveal fragments of my memories, reduced to shapes, shadows, and simplified lines—remnants of my past. I sought ways to navigate this longing and explore how the migrant form adapts to the spaces of the world. My interest in Postcolonial theory grew during a class on this subject, as I found it deeply relatable.
Encountering the works of New York School painters opened a new way to develop the visual framework of my work. The emotions embedded in their work were palpable; they were invested in adding meaning to the forms that correspond to everything that happens to man. Their unique approach to chilling moments between the mediums of photography piqued my interest. Therefore, I shifted my focus from the orthodox surrealists to artists like Arshile Gorky and Joan Miró, who used the automatist technique while drawing on their surrealist influences.
Who are those ghost people supposed to be? You? Everyone?
Although I deeply connect with the emotional and psychological states of the figures in my paintings, they are not self-assertions. Rather, they represent states of existence, some of which are tied to specific issues or events.
What should people know about your style of painting?
My relationship with painting has gradually changed or changed over time. Previously, I paid more attention to the representative image only, which was more focused on the well-defined information of the subjects. However, I soon became interested in how the concept and method of figure representation among 20th century modern artists evolved. This made me realize that the theme of self-awareness is not the only foundation or final form that my work can take. I saw the need to go beyond reconstructing the identity.
The changing structure of the painting, among other things, has influenced my interest in organic and biomorphic forms that live on the border between Representational and Prehistoric Imagery, which accurately reflects my thoughts on some of my favorite conversations.
I am interested in challenging the anatomy of new forms and meaning that he imagines as he adapts to a new environment. Doing this creates tension between them and the space they are in. The spaces are a mixture of memory and imagination, yet they are not autobiographical, as sometimes I create a space that can only exist in a painting.
I want the paintings to have a life of their own, so there is always an ongoing dialogue between my hand and the objects that touch the contemporary poetry as I layer, add and remove paint to reveal the underlying painting. Little by little I embrace the multiplicity of ideas because they open up an unlimited number of possibilities and entry points to a painted picture. Picasso and Georges Braque breaking down the picture plane to the fourth level was a good example for me.
Although conceptual concepts are important, I do not prioritize them over painting values. This is because painting often works beyond the artist’s intentions, especially when first encountered. The meaning of the image usually reveals itself later. Therefore, I look at my work with an open mind, I am always alert and sensitive to where the process leads me, even if I am working from a certain point of view.
How has your exposure to the rest of the continent influenced the development of your artistic and/or narrative style?
Learning to really “see” is one of my most important achievements as an artist. It has enabled me to view the world contextually, through the lens of the human story—understanding that each person’s perspective is shaped by their unique experiences, histories and cultural contexts. Despite the fact that the world is incredibly interconnected, with great diversity among people of different cultural backgrounds and nations, the idea of ”one story” still prevails. This oversimplification reduces complex people and experiences to a mundane narrative. I have been very interested in handling forms in borders; recognizing that the interpretation and meaning of genres, like visual language, is shaped by each person’s experience and perspective.
This realization became especially clear to me when I encountered the work of certain modern artists, such as the New York School and the abstract painters. Being involved with their activities gave me new emotions and revealed opportunities that I had never considered in my career.
I have read that you find inspiration in both scholarly writings and literature; What can you tell me about those influences in particular? How do you translate text into visuals?
Recently I have been interested in postcolonial theory and literature, especially some of Homi Bhabha’s writings which have helped me in my understanding of the Third Space of international migration and culture, the two oppositions between places, between the East and the West and how that happens. contributing to the creation of hybridity and complex cultural identities in a global environment. Part of my work is derived from other lexicons, such as migrant or foreigner, which are used to describe this new identity and their adaptation to the third space.
The paintings actually resist concrete indications of the theoretical part of my influences. They only carry the feeling of my thoughts and thoughts as I sample the visual references that represent the knowledge and feeling I am trying to convey. So there is nothing literal about the method of paintings that directly points to my interest in Postcolonial theory, scholars have done great justice in explaining that thought through text. It is the interpretation of all the elements that work together in the paintings to evoke the same feeling we have about the subject.
Direct translation of text into visual information or a diagram would be an unnecessary and overly graphic account of what has been said. This would be too much to ask of a painting technique because it would not have the desired effect that other media such as film, animation or montage would have in doing the same thing. Rather than doing that as an artist, I focus on capturing emotions such as tension, movement and change.
Drawing is slow, not just as a medium or process, but in its potential to be. It has a tendency not only to be immediate but also to have a long-term effect or impact that must be digested over time. Therefore, I feel that the purpose of painting lies in serving as a stimulus to stimulate feelings or thoughts about a subject, and the most effective way to do that is not to give you all the visual information or to tell you what you already know. Sometimes, a solid diagram won’t force more information on you than necessary—that would be “propagandist,” but rather give you a few key ingredients to draw on, and the rest is up to you. This is why individual meanings and the meaning we all give to forms can be positive. It’s like taking a Rorschach test- our personality is revealed by how we perceive it.
What do you hope people will take away from the theme of “Between Two Suns”?
First, I hope they are able to visually digest, communicate and enjoy the formal part of the activities. Through the conversations around us, I hope to invite them to reflect on the ideas of migration and hybridity and offer a visual reflection on the precarious balance between survival and dispersion. And by rejecting the structural comfort of clear definition, I hope to leave a space for the audience to confront their own ideas about identity, migration and shared space.
