An ode, as we were taught, is simply a poem, a few lines of appreciation conveying deep emotions, but things changed when I came across the madhouse exhibition that turned poetry into a visual art, especially to commemorate a unique figure—an òdé (a Yoruba term for a person lacking wisdom).

My experience at the exhibition was quite thought-provoking, especially after reading the concept of the exhibition curated by Miss Gabriella that, in short, explained how the theme of the exhibition was to appreciate “the foolish, dull, or ODÉ aspect that is entrenched in the traits that make us humans of joy, growth, and ever-flowing life.” The first question that relayed in my mind was how can an ode be made for an òdé? Was there a criterion for lacking sensibility, and how can a piece of work create this narrative?

All these questions spiralled through my mind till I came across an unusual sculpture; it had a certain peculiarity to it. If I were writing to art historians, I would say it was a surrealist piece. A collision of the unrealistic with the realistic. It was a sculpture of a koi fish by Christiana Obafemi with a human face who had lost its “koiness” through the rest of his skin. I wondered what it represented, especially according to the theme of the exhibition. There was no particular description of the work, but I found it better that way. It made me think independently; thoughts of what it felt like to become an adult, perhaps the fish represented what it felt like to grow up. A loss of innocence, a loss of frailty, the loss of being an òdé.

Another artwork that sparked my interest was a collection of paintings by Akinsola Olamilekan. I was lucky to meet the artist and have him explain his vision; however, I personally believe that art shouldn’t be explained by the artist unless perhaps it’s needed. There’s a tendency to steal fragments the artist himself might not realise, so I would not express his vision but my experience through his work. His use of colours was a bit daunting. It reminded me of history: brown, yellow, and white seemed to fall on the brush of this artist. It transported me to a visceral point, especially when I noticed a common theme in his works. His paintings had a self-inflicted scorch. It felt as though the artist burnt his own works but remained the vitality of the subject, and his paintings mourned history. It missed it and wanted to remind us of it and maybe make the audience appreciate it.

All of the artworks also contributed greatly to the theme of the exhibition. However, the space left me with an indescribable feeling; having all the walls white seemed as though the gallery was a canvas itself. The paintings, photography, and sculptures seemed to tell a story; it was curated to remind us of something. It wasn’t like most exhibitions I had been to with large spaces, but it had a gentle demeanour as if it wanted us to live inside an ode. It was unexpected, but it resonated with me.

Overall, the exhibition was one of a kind; it settled on an unusual theme that I believed attracted many people to it. However, I would have preferred better attention to a few of the works. Some artworks seemed like they’d been forgotten because they lacked a more definite display. Unfortunately, I wrote this review a bit late and cannot prompt you to enjoy the exhibition, but I hope you find yourself in another one of their exhibitions.