Last year we worked with 18 brilliant disabled creatives on our Young Artist Development Programme (YADP). Their work is featured in a new zine called “Department for Wonder and Play”, more about this here. In addition to the digital and physical publication, we’re going to spotlight each artist on the blog so you can get a deeper insight into their work and process. Over to Ife to talk about her artwork.

This piece took me to a place I didn’t think I could depict. I had initially written the pitch with my immediate image of play in mind: a living room and invading moonlight.

Growing up, I spent most of my time in the many living spaces I shared with my siblings. Time well spent if you ask me – dancing, singing, watching and rewatching movies or shows, playing (fighting and begging for) the PlayStation.

On the flip side, I was confined to my room many other times for various reasons. As I got older, the only thing I was able to do was stay in bed.

This moved the PlayStation to my mind. In the spirit of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe’ I had to explore what action would look like on the other side of the thing that stifled my wonder.

I wanted the painting to highlight the difference of confinement and mobility. Now even more than ever, my mobility is my easiest sense of play and freedom.

Simple joys I cherished deeply were running, pilates, and girl dinner. I now count these as glimpses of light in dark spaces of deep pain. My snowflakes falling on mink coats that’ll point to my Mister Tumnuses.

I use poetry to build landscapes and healing spaces of love. This is for myself and based on what I have witnessed in others. I wrote ‘points’ right after Valentine’s night and ‘freed carousels’ as what could’ve been January reflections.

I believe the two present my journey of endless mental play. Facing realities and placing them next to the imaginations and excitements that have spurred me on during the loneliest waves of grief.

Both show different facets of my joys and griefs.

Each side demonstrates a wonder towards reality and a deep desire to retreat.
Similar to the poems, the piece and accompanying memory prints present memory beside reality. Both are somewhat merged into one through the warm palette and earth tones. However, both still feel very distinct through action, the feeling of change, or lack thereof. I used texture throughout the piece to tell the story of a layered experience – one that is rich in development and emotional growth, yet rugged and refining.

This has been my cave of residence. My mind, that has crafted worlds of wonder and play through reflection and perseverance. It has drawn strength from moments of play with siblings from childhood which has persisted throughout adulthood. Play has
kept me wondering. I no longer have to question why I am tucked away in such a personal experience because play has moved my tomb into a garden.

Both poems are copied below.

FREED CAROUSELS

chime

chime me back in

chime me back in to the last moment I heard
your
song

i have
feigned
myself
breathless

prancing
into
curious caverns
of wandering minds

so hurl me

hurl
me into
blazing
rings of
love

behind
scuffed windows
i wept you
broken symphonies to trail

to
flush the tunnels
study the tracks
flick the lights back
on
and load
them with truth

even
if you’ll
find me

find me
perched
pretty

ankles
doubled over
twinkling deceitfully

fling me

fling me
happy and dizzy

whirl me
from
moonlight
right into your
playful day

i will
forget
to chase
the taste
of my own
whimsical enchantment

sweep me up
to our
last
phase

beam me
merry with a
fresh
breath

twirl me to the
start
of your tune

or
plug me right into the
end
just
so i
can start it
again

POINT

this cave points towards the sun
but I’m tucked in a corner
Shivering
Wearying my eyes of moisture
Because I can’t feel the sun inside me
Here I can hear the echoes of my girlfriends
Under warm springs
I can particularly hear them singing behind the waterfall
Because the cave is right behind it
I can just about catch a glimpse of the purple skies
But my hip won’t allow me to move towards the heat
Even when I do
They’re convinced that my crawling is evidence that
I will not need help out of this hole in the sky
So I rot here
Sometimes I will cheer from here
At times I might perk up and try to join your conversation from here
One of them will wave from there while the rest
Will insist on ignoring my giggle echoing around the canyon gliding with its robin shaped shadow marking the rocks
Because apparently I did not ask enough
I did not explain that the cave is in the sky and I have been shivering for months
That you are under the warmest spring on earth the water falls where the sun rays land
So I tuck myself away further
Hiding in my tears
Because they will be my only waterfall
Until He finds me

Thanks so much to Ife for sharing her poetry with us.