10 Questions with Tomisin Egbonwon
Tomisin Egbonwon (b.2001) is an artist from Lagos, Nigeria. She is a painter (acrylic, oil, and oil pastel) and poet working primarily in these mediums. Her journey began during the coronavirus pandemic. She would sit by the balcony of her 4-bedroom walk-up in Brooklyn, New York, and paint the sunsets with some old watercolour she had never used. It was almost as if she could capture the daunting silence. It would help her stay sane, but when they finally returned to campus, she would shift away from STEM, to escape atmospheric convection and soil science, to classes in poetry and art history.
This would change the trajectory of her life. Following that year, she would be engrossed in sketching, painting, art talks, long studio visits, art openings, and conversations at the back of a gallery office. Although she would maintain a job as a Sustainability Manager at Live Nation Entertainment, New York City, truly became her oyster, she would finally muster the courage to show her work, leading to exhibitions, features and publications four years down the line. All because she decided to try, she decided to challenge herself.
Coming from a background of a single-parent home, due to her mother's sudden journey with metastatic breast cancer, and her eventual death, Tomisin Egbonwo had lived with a heavy heart for so long, being on that journey with her. She has had to earn her womanhood and come into her own in the absence of her mother. Grief is an endearing yet sombre teacher that constantly informs her practice. It has been such a rewarding journey thus far that has led me to the doorsteps of very influential and passionate women who are so committed to their journey and purpose in the arts.
Art has given Tomisin purpose and allowed her to breathe again, so she devotes herself truly, and the fruits of her practice have been bountiful.
Tomisin Egbonwon - Portrait
ARTIST STATEMENT
Tomisin Egbonwon's practice revolves around using colour to present intense landscapes of African mythological stories woven from poetry and fiction. So she can create an intricate world that delves into themes of post-colonial Africa, womanhood, sanctuary building through architecture, complex characters, and symphonic composition. Everything in what she creates resides in her poly cosmos, and every experience in her life continues to shape her artistry and commitment to mastery.
The Higher Dimensions of Venus, Acrylic On Canvas, 20x24in, 2024 © Tomisin Egbonwon
INTERVIEW
Let's start from the basics. Can you tell us about the first moment you realised art was going to play a central role in your life?
Oddly enough, I think it was the moment I started to play around with garments. Sometimes, when I had an outingwith friends, I had nothing to wear. I would rip a top apart to make it more asymmetrical or wear skirts as tops because I think it looks better that way. It itched my brain perfectly, I felt less dull because it let my essence shine through. I think it was at that moment I realised I loved to re-invent things, that streak of using my hands helped me to gauge beauty. This spilt into other areas of my life and started to guide my taste in the arts. A table had to be the perfect cherry wood, or a ceramic bowl, a perfect hue of magenta, if not, it just wasn't right. For me, this practice made my life more interesting and less dull. It's a practice in itself that informs the lens through which I see life.
You mention starting to paint during the pandemic. What was the turning point that gave you the courage to share your work publicly for the first time?
Yes, that was a very interesting time. There was nothing else to do but stare at the wall, and I remember my roommate teaching me how to draw and paint sunflowers. Very cheesy, I know, but it helped with the daunting silence of that time, and helped me ground myself, but painting was a practice I continued post-pandemic, even with changingneighbourhoods. However, I was sort of hiding it, but I was also doing it very frequently. When you entered my apartment at the time in Brooklyn, I had my paintings all over the walls in the living room and bedroom. And there might be paint stains on the walls here and there, but it was only if you were my very close friend, my partner or if we lived together, would you know that I made art almost every day. I think the turning point was when people would come over to buy a couch we were selling, and they needed to measure the dimensions. People would immediately get stopped in their tracks and be like, "Wow, nice painting?" "You made this?". I was like Oh, y'all like this?! I was always surprised every time, because it was like my little secret, I had a veil over myself, because I was afraid of being seen as an impostor. Because it was all so new to me, and I had these stereotypes in my head of what a "real" artist looked like. Eventually, I started to share, and I think it was hard at the time, but it was also so liberating because it led me to find community and learning so much in such a short time. It took a lot of courage, but making that decision continues to pay off.
Adunni’s Haven, oil pastel on mixed media paper, 5x7 in, 2024 © Tomisin Egbonwon
Spring Feast, Oil Pastel on Mixed Media Paper, 7 x 10in, 2024 © Tomisin Egbonwon
How has your time in New York, both in art and your professional life, shaped your artistic voice?
Wow, I think about New York like a metaphorical womb. I think it changed me a lot as a person, but also helped me find and finetune my artistic voice. There's so much noise out there, especially in New York, because the stakes are so high, but when you know where to look, you might stumble on gold. For me, as a Black woman, I think that I was looking for spaces with people who looked like me, and there are so many brilliant minds within that space. The works of other Black contemporaries have made an impact on me in understated ways, conveying various modes of working through different media. The works of Simone Leigh, Maya Beverly, Naudline Pierre and Wangechi Mutu have changed me in ways that I can not forget. They have shown me what true craftsmanship is, and I think that visibility is so important. When you walk into a show and you look at the works and you feel something different each time, that is what New York gave me, it sharpened my eye. Most importantly, the sharpening of my eye led to more clarity in the vision I have for the world I'm building and where I'm taking my practice. Professionally, it led to some of my first exhibitions in New York and featured in publications, allowing me to spark conversation about my work in person and the evolution of my artistry. Lastly, the locals live such an artful life, and they taught me to live for joy and community. Everything else is a bonus, and that will always be a strong value within my professional practice.
Grief is a profound influence in your story. How does your experience of loss inform the emotional depth of your paintings and poetry?
I think experiencing deep loss is such a potent force within my practice, because I think it makes you raw, and in turn, your way of working becomes raw. With grief, I think those raw feelings can be transformed into something meaningful and constructive within your life, or something destructive. I decided to be constructive by using it as a foundation within my practice. The emotional depth appears through those raw feelings showing up in my use of tonal and abstract colour painting in my work. It also appears through the construction of stanzas, scenes of fervour are brought to life through the senses. Thinking about how I would feel lying on a green pasture resting on a tree trunk with soldier ants marching around its periphery, those feelings are conveyed throughout the rest of the poem. The ability to capture that through my mind, and really get lost in my imagination I think is informed by that loss, because the imagination and the mind becomes a refuge after that experience. Grief becomes a tool that deeply fuels my creativity in such a boundless way. Working in this way, I'm able to tell a story that culminates at a harmonious point. People often inform me that my work carries an essence of its own, and that makes it all worth it. Most importantly, I think that loss, a deep feeling or numbness that comes with grief, leaves me with substance to dissect and sit with that I end up conveying in my work through different scenes. I think the substance I'm working with right now is liminality, the quiet echo of a cabin, or the emptiness of an abandoned potter's quarter. Most of my work right now is exploring the rawness of liminality and how heavy emptiness can feel.
Aduke’s escape, Acrylic on Canvas, 36x36 in, 2025 © Tomisin Egbonwon
Your work blends African mythology with fiction and poetry. What draws you to these elements, and how do you weave them together on canvas?
Storytelling is what comes next after portraying the feeling, building upon that feeling aids in forming an image in painting and writing, because I arrive at a chiselled version on the other side. It's about this intangible feeling that can be felt across time that draws me to African mythology. Before I get to the canvas, I'll write out a scene as if I'm writing a short story, which really immerses me in this place. I'll write out what I'd like to add through research on cultural artefacts and rites, thinking of the role they might play in this scene. When I get to the canvas, I want it to be a type of stage, where, beyond the image, one thinks of the lives of these characters off this stage I've set. African mythology gives me archetypes and themes to work with that are rooted in cultural artmaking and history. It's why the characters or title of the piece bear names from ethnic tribes, as I want the viewer to be curious about their story and why it's important. I think there's so much material, stories from African mythology to draw inspiration, expand on, or re-invent through fiction and poetry. One of my works, "Adama", explored this by imitating the reddish sand you might find in the eastern part of Nigeria and the ancient houses of the Igbo Kingdom, particularly the Mbari House. A sacred two-story house, rooted and built in the Mbari art form used for spiritual rites and offerings to earth deities. My work is taking a modern approach to these ancient practices and architectural artefacts, and telling new stories through that lens.
You speak about 'sanctuary building through architecture'. Can you explain what this means in your visual practice?
Just building upon the previous question on using a modern lens to view African mythology and the Mbari houses, I think sanctuary building through architecture is a tenet in my work that is here to stay. Within African culture pre-colonisation, there are several types of notable 'houses' that were used for divination(shrines), art making, and communing. These buildings were centred around sanctuary and community, using vernacular architecture. I'm deeply fascinated and inspired by it, because their techniques are deeply rooted in vernacular architecture built with their environment, culture and climate in mind. Within my visual practice right now, there's a strong element of sanctuary. Questions I ask myself are, Where is the sanctuary located? What does it look like, and what materials are used in building this place? The answers construct for me what makes the building a sanctuary. I look at archives and visit museums of African history and artefacts to inform my understanding of this concept of sanctuary within African anthropology. For example, wood, red clay, and other earth tones might suggest warmth and safety, so choosing that palette informs the type of architecture I'm signalling. Furthermore, I go deeper into this idea when thinking about the question "what makes a house a home?" A sanctuary becomes a safe place through our choice of architecture and physical objects informed by culture. This is where research comes in, because without these elements, a house is just another building.
Cabin at Alape, oil pastel on canvas, 10x14 in, 2025 © Tomisin Egbonwon
Adama, oil pastel on mixed media paper, 7x10 in, 2024 © Tomisin Egbonwon
Colour seems to play a vital role in your storytelling. How do you choose your palette when beginning a new piece?
Building off my previous answer, my colour palette plays a vital role in storytelling and my visual practice as a whole. It's important because colour is really good at triggering the senses. I want viewers to experience immersion and have a visceral reaction to the work that triggers all the senses. Resonance is then formed through the audience referencing their own memories, for example, an image formed through a colour palette might evoke remembrance of time spent at a cabin on a river, bathing in the sunlight crackling through a window in the kitchen. And that's how I choose a palette, I think about the senses, and what the particular hue of a colour might represent and the story I can build around that. I think about what the scene smells like, or if the air is stale, or what sounds might be made, is it the sound of a swooshing river nearby or snapping twigs. The answers to these questions determine what atmosphere I want the work to convey, and in turn, what colours I'll use. These choices are deeply rooted in the effects of colour on the human psyche, being the bedrock for telling these stories.
You describe your world as a 'poly cosmos.' What does that concept mean to you, and how does it guide your creative process?
I joined poly and cosmos together, meaning "several universes", to represent the strong world-building aspect in my practice. Of course, this is not a new concept, but as an artist who paints, writes, and once dabbled in film photography, it's representative of the different mediums that are vessels of creative expression for me. Although what I create through different mediums might look different, they all belong to the same world and emanate the same vision at their core, which is why storytelling through painting and writing go hand in hand within my practice, because sometimes I want them to intertwine. Maybe curiosity about a character in a painting leads to reading literature(fiction and/or poetry), I wrote about how her story culminates. The canvas is a stage for me, so I think of the polycosmos as the theatre. Each work might be one of several chapters in the same story, with the same characters, but two chapters can never be the same. I want to be able to reference works of the past in creating new ones, because time is not linear within my polycosmos. This concept really guides my process and the higher vision overarching the work I create.
Objects of Nature, Oil Pastel on Canvas, 10x14 in, 2025 © Tomisin Egbonwon
Looking ahead, what are you most excited to explore or challenge in your work as you grow your practice further?
I'm excited to learn more about African history and the rituals of craftsmanship for making these artefacts. How has that affected the social behaviour of the people belonging to the various ethnic groups in question around the continent? I want to perform more research using online and physical archives, converse with art historians and archivists on the artisanal mastery that was achieved in the ancient periods. Particularly, I'm thrilled to challenge myself in my drawing practice, conducting studies by physically drawing these objects and artefacts, I think it will help my vision come through stronger. Generally, I will be fine-tuning all the processes I've outlined in this interview and expanding on them.
And lastly, where do you see yourself and your work in five years from now? Do you have any long-term goals or projects you would like to share with our readers?
Wow, thinking about this makes me emotional. I think five years from now, my practice would have transformed and matured so beautifully, and I would have realised a lot of the ideas I've spoken about here. Right now, I'm documenting my research and making new work. This work will be featured in a collection titled 'Objects of Nature: African Mythology and Sanctuary Building through Vernacular Architecture and Artefacts of African Descent.' I've started the collection already, so I'm hoping to end the year on a high note with a couple more works centred around this idea.
It's going to be a lot of hard work within those five years, lots of collaboration, talks, residencies, fairs and group shows, but it's work I enjoy, and it's always worth it in the end. Long-term goals are working on and presenting my debut solo exhibition towards the end of this decade, such a long way to go, but the days go by so quickly. Sograteful to the Al-Tiba9 team for this collaboration, and I'm looking forward to working together in the future.
Artist’s Talk
Al-Tiba9 Interviews is a promotional platform for artists to articulate their vision and engage them with our diverse readership through a published art dialogue. The artists are interviewed by Mohamed Benhadj, the founder & curator of Al-Tiba9, to highlight their artistic careers and introduce them to the international contemporary art scene across our vast network of museums, galleries, art professionals, art dealers, collectors, and art lovers across the globe.
