Encounters with the Frog
At the studio in Ikise (G.A.S. Foundation, Nigeria) I was never alone. Lizards, flies, some other flying insect no one knew the name for, ants, spiders… and the Frog.
I don’t think I’m scared of frogs, but I really don’t like them. I find leaping animals hard to track. They jump around and I don’t know where they are going next, which way. Fast, agile, unexpected movements that stress the hell out of me. And then frogs, specifically… maybe it is their skin. I don’t think I have ever touched one, but I find their skin a little bit disgusting. I imagine it being slimy, a tad wet, sticky, somehow also rough. Yikes.
I remember catching tadpoles in the river in Panticosa with my mom when I was small. Tiny black spermatozoon-like beings swimming against the current or hanging out safely in the shallow ponds naturally created by the river rocks. Thriving in the freezing waters coming down from the Pyrenees. My mom loved them and passed that love onto me. A love that didn’t grow as these babies grew. Frogs… I mean, real yikes.
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The Frog of Ikise loved my studio.
In the mornings I would find it hiding inside the sculptures I would leave on the floor drying overnight, wrapped in plastic with bags also inside the different holes and cavities the sculptures had or I had created to take clay out of their insides to make them lighter and less prone to crack. As the Frog would jump out of her hole of choice for the night, I would jump too. ‘Fucking hell’ possibly coming out of my mouth in surprise, fear and disgust, all at once. She would leap to one of the corners of the studio and stay there wishing to be invisible, the colour of its skin somehow indeed helping her disguise, blending with the colour of the floor.
If I didn’t see her in the morning after the sculpture unwrapping rituals, I would feel relieved, thinking she had left, at last. Lo and behold, I would, hours later, see her inquisitive, springy eyes coyly looking at me from the inside of a bucket with water or wet clay. Like I get it, girl. It’s hot outside and these places are not only cool, but also cosy. I know you love it. But also… go away?!
Once I found her in between the bags I had wrapped some clay with in the small room connected to the main studio space. I just never knew where I would find her, but rest assured, she was always there.
Her favourite sculpture to squat in was one I called ‘Eternal Dance’. Two figures intertwined are engaged in a spinning movement that seems to never end. One’s body blending with the other’s. Forever linked, like the Yoruba twins, Ibeji. Some sculptures, like ‘Eternal Dance’ come to me from the shape of the chunk of clay I have in front of me as I set to work. I love working like that —guided by the clay, rather than imposing a plan onto it. I am now making a new version of that one. One that is not being visited by amphibious beings in my urban studio in London.
On Friday, the team from the Yinka Shonibare Foundation came to the studio. I showed them what I am up to, gearing up towards my first (serious / official) solo show in London in 2026. From all the things I showed them I believe that the one that stoke them the most was the new version of ‘Eternal Dance’. The way my fingers’ marks travel across the surface, the different textures. It was Belinda who made the connection with the Ibeji. A reference I loved as Yoruba culture keeps coming to me.
In the evening I had booked a Yin yoga and reiki session. I had been incredibly exhausted, jumping from one thing to another. Like the Frog, I find myself between worlds most of the time: my art practice and the quietude of my studio and my role at the London LGBTQ+ Community Centre with all its loudness —the team, the increasing pressure, events and never-ending conversations. Like the Frog returns to water to recharge, I am lucky to have my practice to retreat and go inwards. At the same time, it is a busy practice, a full-time job squeezed onto three days a week. And my entire brain sometimes hurts. My body stalling. A feeling I hate as an active, energetic person.
So I had booked the class to have a little date with myself, recharge batteries and just be told what to do for 75 minutes. What one of my exes called —‘posh people stretches’. At the beginning of the class we were encouraged by the teacher to get a spirit animal card. And so the Frog came back to me. When I saw the card I thought, ha! There you are, old friend. And before checking its meaning on the book that accompanied the Spirit Animal Oracle Deck, I thought it was a reference to my life as a constant back and forth between things and worlds, jumping around all the time. As it turned out, the Frog is connected to water and therefore, with healing, cleaning and cleansing. Like the tadpoles I used to catch (and return to the water, by the way) with my mom in the summer in Panticosa, Frogs are born in water where they spend the first months of their life until they go to the land.
“But no matter how ‘Earthy’ the Frog becomes, its need for cleansing and rejuvenating is regular. Frogs tend to become overworked and undernourished, so it’s vital that such sensitive creatures practice self-care”.
Oh well, oh well.
Just as I had gone to that yoga class to have a moment of solace, a much needed one after the first two intense months back in London after a long time not only away, but also living very differently, my nemesis, the Frog came back with its wisdom. A friend, no longer a foe. A reminder to take care of myself, water being this element for renewal, water being my happy place. I will never look at frogs the same way.
It’s Sunday and I’m doing very little, for a change. Rum.gold is my company today.
And if, like me, singing and dancing alone in the comfort of your house rejuvenates you, here’s my current tune of choice.
As always, thanks for reading! ♥︎