My first sitting with Irenosen Okojie was unusual for this series, since it took place not at her home but in my studio. It was November when I went to pick her up at the station, finding her warmly wrapped and masked against the icy cold winter’s day. Irenosen is a writer, arts project manager and curator. She has won the AKO Caine prize for African writing, and the Betty Trask award for her 2016 novel Butterfly Fish, in which a mysterious brass artefact connects a lonely young woman with her family’s past in Nigeria.
Back at home, we defrosted with a mint tea and discussed the sitting. When drawing or painting someone in my own space, the first thing I think about is which chair I might use, and over the years I have built up a small collection for exactly this purpose. In this instance we decided on a leather armchair, a favourite of mine which has featured in previous portraits of family and friends. I thought it would work well with Irenoson’s slouchy lilac dungarees and striped coral cardigan.
Irenosen had brought some of her books to be included in the portrait, so we debated how best to integrate them into the composition. She was also adamant that she wanted to be portrayed as defiant, arranging her eyes in a playful mean squint. This was of a piece with her bold and positive character.
I always try to foster conversation with my sitters, mainly because I enjoy getting to know them, but also because a relaxed relationship tends to create a good atmosphere for drawing. Not for the first time in this series, the subject of mothers surfaced. Irenosen mentioned her mother’s strong opinions about how she chooses to wear her hair and present herself. She then told me about coming to boarding school in England with her older brother when she was just eight, her parents remaining in Nigeria. I can only imagine how difficult it was to be thrown into a foreign culture at that young age, while being the only black child in the school.
But the highlight of the sitting was glimpsing Irenosen’s incredibly rich imagination, which came through in her renditions of stories from the rural setting where she grew up, wild legends and folklore narrated around the fire. This took me back to my own childhood, when my family spent the winter months on an African farm without running water or electricity. The harsh, beautiful atmosphere of that place is seared into my memory. Evenings around the fire produced a steady stream of tall stories, voices ringing in the darkness as we sat mesmerised by the dancing flames, the Milky Way gleaming seductively overhead in a huge expanse of sky.
I managed three drawings of Irenosen, conscious that I wouldn’t include much by way of surroundings in the portrait, since they weren’t expressive of her own life or character. As usual, I painted the figure, clothing and chair in the advance of the second sitting, as well as a first pass on the face. By suggesting some floorboards at the bottom and sides of the image I hoped to ground the chair in the composition, and to give the picture plane some depth; this is also why I painted Irenosen’s shoes rather big and chunky in the foreground.
It was June when Irenosen came to the studio again. By this time the project had gathered a satisfying momentum, a flow of production that seemed to bring me a step or two closer to completion each day. As before I met Irenosen at the station, only this time it was a warm summer’s day, and we could work with the doors wide open. Irenosen made some positive remarks about my paintings propped up around the studio, which were gratefully received. (Artists like myself, who suffer constant doubts about their work, are not difficult people to flatter). Sadly the armchair was no longer available, having been reduced to a heap of straw and leather shreds by my young Labrador one unguarded night.
In this sitting I tried to capture Irenosen’s defiant expression. The highlights cast on her face by the bright summer light, giving her a healthy youthful glow, made this an especially rewarding task. After she left I painted the background in blue, echoing the cover of the book she is proudly clasping in the portrait. I used scrubby brushwork and layers of thin paint to produce a slightly ethereal texture, hoping this would bring to the painting something of the magical quality I associate with Irenosen’s imagination.
