To Wood Not Lost

Earlier this week, a good friend of mine dragged me to Alliance Francaise for an art exhibition. Come to think of it it must have been late last week. Anyway, I went in with wearing my usual hurried look and was immediately arrested by a schene I may have witnessed before but which possessed a brilliance and depth of detail (an I am a sucker for detail) that I had not encountered in a long time.

We parted ways, my friend and I, as I took in the wood sculptured awkwardly in that genuinely African fashion which leaves you with something beautiful even if you had not intended for it to be so. Then there was the beadwork; and I use beadwork loosely here. Little strips from newspapers were put together, some colored before the reunion of the pieces, and rolled up to form a long “bead” through which thick thread (or thin rope) was passed and woven into a foundation resembling a hide sometimes and old cloths at other instances.

Needless to say, I took a few pictures, even after I was forbidden to do so a long while after I had been seen looking for an angle to capture the colour and contrast of lighting.

The rest I shall leave for you to indulge yourselves in.

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