Jacob Jari is a Professor of Fine Art at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. In this interview, he talks about his preference for using discarded materials, on creating platforms for artists, and more. Excerpts:
An exhibition is currently holding to celebrate you at age 60. How do you feel about this?
I have been planning this exhibition for the past two years. It is normal for artists to organize retrospective exhibitions to mark a milestone in their age, especially at 60. I turned 60 in April, 2020 and this was when the exhibition should have opened but the coronavirus forced a postponement. It was then rescheduled to open on 24th October, 2020 but the EndSARS protests forced another rescheduling to 7th November, 2020.
What informs the type of art presented at the event being that they are most likely not all you have produced in your lifetime?
I’m showing paintings and sculptures in my collection. It is true that the paintings I am showing are not the only works I have produced but they are the only works, which are still in my possession. I decided, however, to include all those in my collection, such as the ones that have been given to me by other artists and works that I bought. At this exhibition, therefore, there will be 82 works by 47 artists, collected over a period of 41 years. Only two artists did not train in Ahmadu Bello University. The works therefore, provide a glimpse of four decades of the Zaria Art School.
You are currently a Professor of Fine Art at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. It’s one thing to be a practicing artist and another to teach it. How would you describe your experience doing both?
In our country presently, most artists who survive only on their creations live at the mercy of patrons. In many instances, therefore, the patron’s taste shapes the nature of what is created. Teaching has helped me pay bills and to liberate myself from the patron’s shenanigans. So, I have found being a teacher and an artist fulfilling.
You are known to use discarded materials for your work. How did your work evolve into this form of art and do you ever consider others?
I was taught how to use conventional media while training to become an artist. I initially worked with oil for over 10 years after graduation. As I grew in my practice, I became aware of the power of conceptual art in social commentary. Conceptual art stresses process over product and plays down the importance of conventional media. I therefore, drifted into the exploration with other media such as discarded cornstalk, fabric and paper. My work with them illustrates how things discarded can be reinvested with beauty; a symbolism for how discarded people can still be useful in society.
Your work has featured in exhibitions across the world, from Berlin to Dakar, Nairobi to London and, of course, Nigeria. How would you say these journeys have expanded your horizon as a creative person?
I think for those of us who are creative, anywhere in the world is a comfortable space to perform in because a creative work in Nigeria is a creative work anywhere else. A footballer in Nigeria can be a footballer in Eswatini, for instance. There is nothing really too peculiar about my works showing in a few cities abroad.
The same goes for workshops and residencies where you have been part of a good number, like Braziers International Artists Workshop in the United Kingdom, Wasanii International Artists Workshop, Naivasha, Kenya, to mention a few. To what extent do you think these opportunities open doors for artists? Will you say Nigeria is doing well in creating such platforms?
There are different kinds of art workshops, but one of the most profound series known as the Triangle Arts Workshop was set up in 1982. The two workshops you mentioned were part of the Triangle Arts Workshop. At its peak, it had affiliates in about 70 countries around the world. Participation was open to any mid-career artist who wished to spend two weeks away from home with about 24 other artists drawn from different parts of the world, creating and discussing art in a serene environment, all expenses paid. Many African participants also benefited from free return air tickets. In Nigeria, Aftershave International Artists Workshop represented this workshop. A participant usually got exposed to different ways of art making. Many Nigerian artists have participated at the Triangle Arts Workshop and have grown to become successful artists consequently. The regularity of staging the workshop in Nigeria was crippled because of the absence of art funding. So, Nigeria is not doing well in creating such platforms.
How do you view the development of art in Nigeria, generally?
There is noticeable effort by the private sector to develop art in Nigeria. Auction houses with affiliation to other world-renowned art houses have sprung up and vibrant art events are now held regularly, not to mention the constant exhibitions held in private galleries. Nigerian art is therefore, constantly in the news and as a result, a few foreigners have made our country a tourism destination despite our challenges. The public sector in Nigeria, however, is still struggling to keep pace.
What particular work of yours remains most dear to your heart and why?
It is always difficult to isolate one work and regard it as the best. One’s disposition at a given time makes some works more attractive than others; therefore, the works keep trading places as one’s disposition keeps changing. At this moment, the one that occupies my mind is not on display. It is called ‘Guess Who is Coming to Dinner’, conceived after a 1967 film directed by Stanley Kramer, where the race issue in America is interrogated. With recent developments even in our part of the world, the film has become iconic because race manifests itself in different forms. I created this work in 1999 as my first performance.
At age 60, what type of work do you crave to create that you haven’t?
At this age, one’s sharp and ambitious desires are blunted by a long engagement with reality; but if I was to try something different, I would probably wish to direct some skits, which promote the need to grant all of us a second chance at what we have once failed to do correctly.