The fascinating textile works of Lisa Ijeoma (1997) have their origin in personal and collective 'trauma'. Although trained as a painter, she chose to work with textile. From self-woven jacquard fabrics to pieces of fabric stitched and sewn over each other and patchwork, Ijeoma visualises scenes and landscapes about such major themes as the over-sexualisation and exploitation of black bodies and violence against people of colour. Ijeoma: “With a piece of cloth and a needle on my lap, I turn inside myself and the stories emerge naturally.” In her dark blue, brown and black creations, a sense of doom is never far away, nor are the feelings of beauty and power they evoke. A conversation with Lisa Ijeoma and the healing power of art.
How did you end up at the art academy?
Thanks to my mother actually, who encouraged me to go to the academy. Initially, I did painting and tried to find myself in painting coloured self-portraits. Those portraits were politically charged because very few people of colour have been depicted in the history of Western painting. I soon realised that with my personal search for my own roots, I would automatically touch on a much greater problem, namely the representation of people of colour in Western painting, both in front of and behind the easel.
“Drawing on experience, I try to place my intersectional identity in a contemporary context and draw attention to the historical stereotyping, objectification and exploitation of the body of colour in the 21st century.”
Lisa Ijeoma
In an interview, you mentioned that trauma is one of the major themes in your work. Can you tell us a bit more about that?
Everyone experiences trauma in a different way. I don't know anyone who doesn't have trauma or who hasn't made something that could cause trauma. I am particularly interested in personal and collective trauma that is passed on from generation to generation.
After earning your Master's degree in painting, you switched to handwoven textiles and patchwork. What caused that transition from painting to textile?
I realised that I could not effectively express on canvas such subjects as violence against people of colour, the voyeuristic view of a body of colour and intergenerational conflict. Painting as a medium is too fast, too fleeting for me right now. I like the slowness and intimacy that comes with working with textile, because it allows me to undergo and examine my traumas with a great deal of calm and patience. To me, sewing pieces of fabric together is a healing process. I also love the intrinsic properties of textile, such as softness, sensuality and texture.
Have you been aware of your skin colour since childhood?
I was born in Bruges, where I lived until I moved to Ghent. I had to deal with discrimination from an early age. Not that I've ever been a victim of particularly aggressive forms of discrimination, but under-the-radar racism like making casual remarks while boarding the bus or touching my Afro hair without asking. As a child, I was not really aware of my skin colour, but I did feel that I was different from the other children, who were all white. It's only when you get older and start listening to adults that you realise that that feeling of 'being different' has to do with your complexion and background. From that moment on, you are aware of it and it becomes part of you.
For me personally, it was a difficult search for self because I grew up in a white environment. My mother is white and my father is black, but we lived in Belgium and my father was often out of the picture for longer periods of time. I had few, if any, people around me who looked like me and who made me feel like the way I look is okay. How you respond to discrimination, of course, also depends on where you grow up, how you are treated at home, how your friends react, etc.
Did you have to try really hard to fit in?
Yes, and that's why I tried my best to look 'Western'. For example, I had my hair straightened, which required all kinds of chemical treatments. That’s not a problem if you do this because you want to, but not out of a desire to belong. But I just wanted to look like all those white girls around me who all wore a ponytail. As a child, I found it very difficult to build an identity that was not dictated by discrimination and racism.
You say you grew up in Bruges, in a white world. Where do your Nigerian roots fit in?
I have only met a few Nigerian relatives, so I do not know the Nigerian side of my family very well. But because I'm not white, I don’t quite belong to my Belgian family either. So, for a long time, I did not feel at home with my Nigerian or my Belgian family. I felt like I was living between two worlds and that I didn't really belong anywhere. In fact, I still feel that way, although I have now found a safety net with my mother, sisters, friends and partner.
Are there any advantages to living between two worlds?
As a child, I learned to adapt and assimilate quickly and because of that, I have become very social and can relate to everyone. Yet I miss a lot of my Nigerian identity because I have not fully understood it.
I would prefer to exist as ‘Lisa the artist’, in other words as myself, but I realise that that is a utopia because we are still a long way from seeing my work separately from who or what I am, from where I come from. We still all think very much in stereotypes, which makes it difficult to discuss topics like racism and colonialism. At the same time, that's what I want to do. After all, I am a black artist and cannot separate my art from myself or my experiences. In an ideal world, my origins would not matter, but unfortunately, we are not there yet.
What are you currently working on?
I’m taking a break right now because I recently made a lot of large works for my solo exhibition at Schönfeld Gallery in Brussels and a group exhibition at Geukens and De Vil in Antwerp. I just graduated and want to take time and space to reflect on my work and think about the future.
Do you use social media a lot?
I use Instagram to promote myself and gain an overview of what other artists are doing or to get inspired, but I don’t let myself be influenced by beautiful pictures and stories from influencers.
What book are you reading right now?
I'm reading Half of a Yellow Sun by Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Although I'm only on page 30, I can already recognise a lot of my Nigerian background in what she tells. Unfortunately, I have to read the book in English because I don't know any African languages. I am very sorry that I didn't grow up with that. I now know that I am part of the Igbo tribe, the third largest ethnic group in Nigeria. I often miss that part of my identity, also because your reality is partly determined by language and communication. My father mostly speaks to me in English because he speaks little Dutch, but English, French and a Nigerian dialect. I really regret that my father never taught me his native language. The book I'm reading now has certain words that my father uses and sometimes it seems as if he is reading along over my shoulder.