May we always find Solace in each other, 2022

screen-print and spray paint on paper and felt
50 x 90 inch

In 1981, my father had a son. In 1982, father, mother and child were separated. My father, Fitz, had had to leave Monrovia and had moved back home to Nigeria. His girlfriend A.R. and their son, subsequently relocated to the USA: an even bigger separation.

For a period of eleven years, my father would write letters, to which there were barely any responses. In 1992, all communication died, leaving him with no known address and no way of staying in touch with his child for the next sixteen years.

How does one begin to reconcile with the brutal harshness of an abrupt and deliberate loss of communication? Where would one even begin to mend a fractured relationship that is riddled with so much pain, loss and absence?