a color story: the MOMA artist

Second floor, MOMA. Entering different worlds in each room. There wasn’t a place or a destination — just the slow pace of observing and absorbing. With different styles and cultural influences, this was a familiar space but with an extra dose of grandiose measures. Statues or monuments could take up 10 folds of my hotel room just to measure their significance in the art world. Easing my way through the MOMA museum, the big names and projects awaited but in the meantime, the coffee was sitting. And the caffeine stimulating. My mind and body welcomed new art.

Ivory Coast artist, Frédéric Bruly Bouabré shared his world through his cardboard-medium displays of art. Without going into much detail about things that I didn’t understand or rather butchering the significance of the artist, my impressions mixed in with my first visit to the Art Gallery of Ontario David Milne’s work and the early humble beginnings of Basquiat. His work roomed a whole section, maybe three different rooms. It must be a lifetime's worth of work. I hoped it wasn’t just an African card with the whole Black Lives Matter movement. I hoped for substance- my expectations were congested with political influences. But, I was rather by its purity.

While working his government job, each cardboard painting illustrated a letter of his language with a vagrant warmth of colors. The artist took appreciation of his day-to-day and saw the beauty in the most mundane and smallest of things. He was too humble to consider himself an artist but rather than a human who appreciated the arts. He found gold where others gave a blind eye.

Unlike the trends, the Ivory Coast artist didn’t look much into serene landscapes and such. The fornication of jaguars or the story of the ‘long-tailed’ man finally finding its place in a woman caught much of the MOMA guest’s attention. No filter. A raw expression of his day-to-day. I found some of the pieces very humorous but remarkably fun. Where was this again and where could I get a piece of the artist’s imagination or at least his colorful perspective of his life?

His odd use of yellow, odd use of green, and even a light version of pink were common color motifs. Maybe it was the lack of accessibility to other colors or just his affinity towards them. The juxtaposition of the color borders reminded me of Cezanne’s playfulness. Could he have been inspired by his work? Or did they both just have great taste? If so, even in a different area of the world, how did they converge with similar color motifs? I wondered whether the color choices were over thought, and it was just the artist having fun with his daily ritual.

At the back side of his grand exhibition or display, there was a video running through a projector that interviewed the humble artist. There was a distinct scene where he discussed the work of chance and how it highly influenced him. This artist only served and gave (like his government job I assumed). But, he mentioned how the shape of water that spilled on the floor. There was a randomness to it that appealed to his senses. So, looking back, I think I got mixed up with randomness and luck. But in this situation, what’s the difference?

There was quite a number, maybe 400 displays of a thorough collection of the artist’s work and other collections. It may seem to be an early adopter model of the NFT model. They were numbered and had a certain profile — almost like a Pokémon card. The uncanny resemblance of it all. He was ahead of his time right? I was glad to be in the presence of his work even if it didn’t take itself too seriously. He kept his inner child for decades.

Then, again, I looked deeper into his colors. The yellows and the greens. Could they just be the artist’s simple derivation of nature? Sunlight, plants, and flesh? Was that his minimal approach to viewing his world? Like how kids tinted their windows with yellow crayons, Bouabré took the approach to another level. Let alone, like a kid, he drew his art quite quickly trying to get to the next drawing or assignment. His process even mimicked his art.

“Eh, Eh, Eh” The room called in a French dialect I assumed.

There was an interactive screen where you touch the card, a sampled voice of the letter announced. Press this card. A letter in the Bete people's language was announced. For some odd reason, I had my play with the system. It seemed fit as a drum machine. A, A, A, B. A, A, A, C. Repeat. The French tourists/visitors also appealed to their Daftpunk sampling senses. When the operator or the controller figured out my doing, the buttons magically had a lag towards them. The music show was over. But, the guests behind me tried it out themselves. Not as a student of the language but as a sampler drum machine.

Looking deeper through the museum’s website, the colors distracted from its meaning. The artist created a writing system for this dialect Bete people. “Bouabré’s invention of the first writing system for the Bété people, an ethnic group in present-day Côte d’Ivoire to which the artist belonged.” Kid-like drawing meets cultural significance plus a lifetime's worth of work. An artist’s artist who stuck his gun to his identity and self. How could you not just be in awe of that kind of dedication to being true to yourself?

Leaving his exhibition, his world, and his imagination, I felt my inner child exploding with curiosity and playfulness. The thought of creating a beat tape with his letter enunciation came into mind and maybe even using his colors. It would an homage to his world. But, for now, I found myself in a new world on the third floor.