Bunmi Agusto took playing God seriously in 2017 when she first started to focus on the ideology of a Wonderland World called Within. Before that, the world was without form and void. Bunmi didn’t seem intentional about creating this world at first and needed encouragement, but after it came in the form of reassuring words from her father, one day, with the stroke of her paintbrush, she decided that there would be light in Wonderland. She saw that it was good. Bunmi created the skies, firmaments, The Wind, The Spirit and The Sun, and then she separated land from the seas. She painted her favourite trees of palms, braided roads and everything else she saw fit to install in this perfect world. After everything was achieved, she rested, though not for long, because as it is in world-building, the work is a continuous process.
The story progresses, Chapter One being a piece titled: Tell me your biography.
As an artist Bunmi understood that a biography was needed to first begin telling her story. At this time, the characterization of Within had started to develop rapidly, and the artist was in a phase where she had just created a world but did not have inhabitants, creatures or organisms living in or dominating it. A deep introspection of the world Within followed and after a thorough introspection Bunmi created a character in her image to live in the wonderland she created. After breathing life into the character, only a name was left. “Aliens” seemed to be a good fit, it embodied Bunmi’s underlying feeling of being a foreigner between the countries where she inhabited: London and Nigeria, and also the fact that the character she just created to live Within was also Alien to wonderland. Still, paying attention to details, it is safe to say that the real stories of the paracosm Within Bunmi Agusto truly began to fully evolve with the piece: The History of Aliens I.
The concurrent conversation about why paracosm exists is usually tied to a trauma response from childhood, and fair enough, there are many experts and self-proclaimed professionals on the subject who argue persistently that trauma plays a huge part in why artists tend to gear towards creating a fantasy world where they feel safer, stronger or in control of, but in regards to the strong spirituality or, in Bunmi’s case, magical realities, often attached to the histories of paracosm pieces painted, it is safe to say that artists who indulge in paracosm could also be recreating a phenomenon of their very own existence cycles in the world, and the part they feel they’re required to play as aliens in other people culture.
Bunmi Agusto manages out of the ordinary, finding ways to give meaning to our mundane lives and existence by being abstract in the most impeccable way. A paracosm within a person named within is a perfect pun. She earned her BA in Fine Art in 2020 from Central Saint Martins where she graduated with first class honours and was awarded the Cass Art Prize twice. She earned her MA in History of Art and Archaeology from SOAS University in 2022 and her MFA from the Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford in 2023, both with Distinction. At Oxford, she was awarded the Clarendon Scholarship for outstanding academic merit and was selected for the Mansfield-Ruddock prize at her Degree Show. She was also selected for the Bloomberg New Contemporaries 2023. She has been the subject of several solo and group exhibitions including Free The Wind, The Spirit and The Sun, Stephen Friedman Gallery (2023); Outside, kó artspace, Lagos (2022); Redefining the Trend – Histories in the Making, Christie’s, London (2022); 1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair, DADA Gallery, London (2022); Psychoscape, TAFETA, London (2022); Escape To Within, DADA Gallery, London (2021); London Grads Now, Saatchi Gallery, London (2021); Wheels To Water, Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, London (2020).
What is the one question about art and the process of making it that you wish people asked you about more often?
The narrative across all works. I am a world-builder so in the context of my art practice, that means that each piece acts similarly to a story panel in a graphic novel. People often try to engage with each piece individually, but the real magic happens when you consider how one bounces off, evolves from or reflects elements from another. So I guess I’d like to be asked more questions about the process of writing a story visually.
What are some of the most common ways, or very simple things you do that immediately draws inspiration to you?
Seeing other artworks. On average, I go to about two hundred exhibitions a year. I’ve spoken to some artists who prefer not to go to exhibitions because they are worried they would end up unintentionally copying someone. However, I argue that we all already regurgitate what we see anyway. My logic is that if an artist only pays attention to a select few artists then they are more likely to copy those select few artists, but if they are open to anything and everything, each influence would simply contribute a small percentage to something so large and complex that it is new. Newness is often just the next step in the evolution of what has been done before.
We feel you’re a successful artist. Maybe not, but that’s how we feel. As a successful artist, can you imagine for a moment that art didn’t work out as much as you planned, what could have been an alternative for you? And if you’ve never thought about an alternative, can you briefly explain why you will always put art first?
I considered many alternatives before choosing art. I’d be an architect, mathematician, filmmaker or engineer. The cool thing is that I’ve been able to build an art practice where I get to be all those things at once or at some point.
Be honest, how hard, on a scale of 1-100, has evolving into a coherent artist been? That is, how hard was it before you got to the point where you feel, at least a little, that people do finally understand the things you’re trying to say and imagine? (For this question, kindly share a little about your last exhibition and how you feel it was received by the audience)
Before 2020, maybe seventy out of a hundred. I’ve hit my rhythm since then so maybe it is now a five out of a 100. Around 2020 to early 2022, I had a pretty clear idea of the world I was building but the big picture was not yet apparent to many viewers. I have a couple of different registers I can hit across painting, drawing, printmaking and the digital so some people saw my work as slightly dissonant. I didn’t mind because I was prioritising my private world-building process over legibility to viewers and I knew I would eventually fill in the gaps at the appropriate time, which I’ve done quite a bit. It’s about trusting the process and building a visual language. It is slow, patient work. My last exhibition Lands of the Living was challenging in its way because it was such an emotional period in my life and subsequently an emotional body of work. My father —who I was extremely close with— had passed away a few months prior and I made this body of work whilst grieving. The exhibition consisted of a series of works on paper that illustrated my father transitioning to the afterlife and that event subsequently triggered some characters from my inner world to create Egúngún masquerade costumes to wear and commune with the dead. So the series began with Father’s Transition and ended with Simultaneous Reunions in which my father’s spirit returns to the physical plane in masquerade form. I’ve curated most of my solo exhibitions and Lands of the Living was no exception so I was deeply engrossed in every single detail of the exhibition. I cried in my studio multiple times, but all in all, it was a very cathartic process. I also got a lot of paper cuts during that process so my works quite literally have my blood, sweat and tears on them. In terms of how it was received, I think a lot of people truly felt that body of work. People were tearing up in front of certain works. Young children and teenagers were deciphering the fantastical narrative across the works. It’s been months since the show and someone told me the other day that it was the exhibition that they have had the strongest emotional reaction to in their lives. So I was very much touched by the reception to Lands of the Living. It was a space to grieve.
There is a common saying by Ursula K. “The creative adult is the child who survived; – judging from this saying, are there things you survived as a child that led to you becoming or choosing to become a creative adult?
Funnily enough, a friend recently said to me that he likes hanging out with me because I have lost less of my inner child than the average person. So I’d say the things that survived was (1) just simply wanting to have fun at the end of the day (2) looking at the world with a sense of wonder (3) thinking of how endless possibilities are. These qualities make me experimental, perhaps quirky, perhaps eccentric, and then creative. Being creative is just constantly asking “What if?” and following through on the various tangents that questioning creates.
We tried our hardest to evade the feeling of asking a question as trivial as money. It is hard to ignore because this is Africa, and a lot of their artists are underprivileged, so for anyone who might get to read this interview, we have to talk about funding. How did you manage with the funding for art? And while you take time to answer that, also take time to answer this: Are you equally in art for the money?
I don’t think money is a trivial topic, especially with the current state of the economy. I am currently based in the UK, not Nigeria, and have been for many years and there are way more funding opportunities here than in Nigeria. When I was in university here a few years ago, I was very eagle-eyed about any opportunities the college emailed us about. I ended up applying and winning some grants to cover the cost of art supplies so that was pretty useful for a while. Nowadays, I think it is also important to have multiple streams of income. The different streams don’t even have to be outside of the arts. For example, I’ve done a bit of consulting for theatre and television projects lately. A number of my artist friends also teach at universities part-time to support their practices. It is great and lucky to have multiple streams of income where the work feeds into each other and strengthens each other. I am not in the art for the money. I am not sure many people can be “in the art for the money” because there are more secure, consistent and lucrative career options. Yes, being an artist is a more economically viable career than it has been in recent decades —especially in Nigeria— but it is often a labour of love. However, at the end of the day, one has to survive and build a sustainable life for oneself and if people are willing to pay you to do work you love that you were going to do anyway, that’s great! It builds a very streamlined, fulfilling life. So yes, I have made art my career and yes, I do hope to be adequately compensated for my work. Additionally, I do have a set of morals and values that I would unlikely compromise my work and myself for.
Lastly, who supported you mostly, throughout the journey? Use this as a floor to say thank you to them, and also those other artists that inspire you.
My father Olabode Agusto. There were many times I was anxious and had imposter syndrome, but he believed in me wholeheartedly and cheered me on. Once I started my art career, he believed that I was doing what I was put on this earth to do. He referred to my work as “magic”. He was a listening ear whenever I wanted to discuss my ambitions. He would talk about my work to anyone who would listen. So a massive thank you to him.
