In Conversation with Chioma Ebinama: Dreamy Watercolors that Reinforce Love After the Pain

Portrait by Sasha Arutyunova.

I’ve long been a stan of Chioma Ebinama’s visually soothing and therapeutic watercolor works. Ebinama’s art feels poetic and lyrical in how it centers Black womxn figures. The Nigerian-American, Brooklyn-based artist, currently quarantined in Europe, discusses Now I only believe in...love, a recent solo show at FORTNIGHT INSTITUTE, and embracing new practices during this lockdown era.

GG: Congrats on your solo show, Now I only believe in...love, can you talk about this current body of work and the premise behind it?

CE: Before I made any images for this show, I intended to title it After the meek inherit the earth. I wanted to make a fragmented narrative of the natural world calmly observing or recalling the demise of modern humanity. I think often about apocalypse and I am drawn to images of the natural world reclaiming human spaces. At the time, I was experiencing a lot of upheaval and change in my life. I suddenly found myself without a studio or home after nearly ten years in New York City. In an effort to embrace rootlessness I decided to embrace travel. All of the pieces were made in the course of four months of travel.  Although I am not religious, I knew I needed some kind of faith in order to stay afloat during a period of precarity. Now I only believe in…love came from a list of essentials I kept over that period, as I tried to discover “faith” based on my own earthly experiences. It evolved a lot over the course of making the work but I hope it shows that change and endings can be sweet even if initially they seem painful.

Devotees , 2020, watercolor on handmade Indian recycled cotton rag paper. Courtesy of the artist and Fortnight Institute, NYC.

For me your work feels very meditative and therapeutic, a necessity given the current times. Can you expand?

Making my work is very meditative, that’s specifically why I’m so drawn to watercolor. Watercolor is often described as an unruly medium. Beginners get frustrated in how difficult it is to control. But for me, it is a practice of control and surrender, a part of a larger effort in becoming okay with imperfection and uncertainty. I received a very basic education on how to use watercolor. I feel most free when I can follow my intuition and just play. I think intuitive practices, whether you’re drawing or cooking, are an essential part of feeling human. This feels like a really good time to indulge in such play.

Demon parade, 2019, watercolor on handmade Indian recycled cotton rag paper. Courtesy of the artist and Fortnight Institute, NYC.

You work with watercolor, Sumi ink, and various paper, what power do you find with this medium? 

My materials are very humble and familiar which allows for a kind of intimacy that you might not share with say a giant bronze sculpture. I like that paper is fragile and that water media further exposes its fragility. In a world that values seemingly limitless consumption, I really enjoy making work that is physical but also ephemeral. I also appreciate work on paper for its proximity to writing. I think I write more often than I paint. Working with ink or watercolor feels closer to both my hand as a writer, but also my voice—soft and deliberate.  

Installation view from Now I only believe in...love. Courtesy of the artist and Fortnight Institute, NYC.

What are you thinking about virtual engagement to keep promoting the exhibit?

To be honest, I’ve been conflicted about promoting the exhibit at this time. I’m happy that people have been enjoying the work and sharing it, but personally, it’s a time for self-reflection and, perhaps, to recede from my inclination to consume tons of information. I’m thinking about how I want to be and participate in the world when the pandemic ends. That said, I’ve been making videos discussing my work on FORTNIGHT INSTITUTE’s IG. This has been difficult because I’m shy on video,but does encourage me to consider new directions for a more socially-engaged art practice in the future. 

“I also appreciate work on paper for its proximity to writing. I think I write more often than I paint. Working with ink or watercolor feels closer to both my hand as a writer, but also my voice—soft and deliberate.“

What's next for 2020, but real talk, feel free, to be honest about these uncertain times we're in and how you're coping.

At the moment, I’m trying to sit with uncertainty and not think too much about the future. I’m currently quarantined with a friend in Athens, Greece. I’m staying connected to my loved ones all over the world via FaceTime, IG, and Whatsapp. I feel like I’m sort of nowhere in that I’m disconnected from familiar places and people, and yet I am everywhere in that technology has made me more accessible to my loved ones than ever before. I’m usually really terrible with texting, birthday calls, etc. I used to always keep my phone on Do Not Disturb during the day. But now being available via phone seems like the best I can do to nurture my relationships right now. 

That said, I guess I’m getting used to precarious living. This is actually the first year in a long time that I haven't been anxious about “what’s next”. I’m so grateful to share that I’m illustrating my first children’s book this year. This has been a dream since I was a little kid spending my summers in the library. My images will be accompanying the writing of renowned poet and editor Kevin Young.  It will be published with Make Me A World, a new imprint of Random House Books under the creative direction of artist Christopher Myers. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the need to use my creative energies in ways that are more collaborative and engaged with new narratives, so this feels like such a real gift.

Ancestors examining good hair , 2019, watercolor and sumi ink on handmade Indian recycled cotton rag paper. Courtesy of the artist and Fortnight Institute, NYC.