Yiadom-Boakye’s wonderfully enigmatic subjects are largely fictitious, crafted from the recesses of her imagination, or with fleeting reference to found source material. Both drawing upon and challenging the traditions of painting, Yiadom-Boakye plays with the form of portraiture to produce open-ended works that blur the boundaries of narration and revelation.
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Keep The Moon Amongst Ourselves
After the teeming traffic of Kennington Road, stepping into Corvi-Mora is an effective retreat from the jostling city. An enclave made of raw brick, the gallery perfectly suits the sensitivity of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye’s latest exhibition: 16 new works presented under the title Keep the Moon Amongst Ourselves. Shortlisted for the Turner Prize in 2013, Yiadom-Boakye is a master of speculation. In 2023, she became the first black British woman to receive a retrospective at Tate Britain; a sad fact that in no way diminishes her deservedness of the show.
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Just Beyond My Reason, 2024. Charcoal on paper, 162 x 94.5 x 4.5 cm. Courtesy the Artist and Corvi-Mora, London
"the tentative balance of resignation against resilience"
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, A Herald In Spring, 2024. Oil on linen, 200 x 180 x 3.6 cm. Courtesy the Artist and Corvi-Mora, London
The exhibition is titled after a poem by Yiadom-Boakye; the only printed material provided by the gallery, in lieu of a standard press release. The poem is an appeal to resist the ‘Devil’ – a figure that can be read as representative of various global perpetrators of structural oppression. A storyteller at her core, Yiadom-Boakye’s purposefully minimal compositions invite her audience to fill in the gaps she creates. As viewers, we are given space to make our own connections between the paintings.
"a theatrical set-up, within which everyday actions are elevated, and charged with meaning"
The exhibition is characterised by the tentative balance of resignation against resilience. Upon entering the gallery, one is confronted with The Maximum (2024): a portrait of a boy in a red and white striped t-shirt, and one of four paintings contained in the gallery’s antechamber. Only the boy’s torso is visible; we see a portion of his raised arms. The cropped composition prevents us from knowing whether he rests his head in his hands in repose, or stretches his limbs towards an imagined heaven. Just as the boy reaches beyond the canvas, the viewer is left grasping for possible narratives.
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Sing To The Quick, Speak To The Dead, 2024. Oil on linen. 105 x 75 x 3.6 cm. Courtesy the Artist and Corvi-Mora, London
To his right, four sitting female-presenting figures populate Vernacular Warnings (2024). The figure on the right slumps in her seat, her gaze cast down – in contemplation? Or dozing? The central two figures make unabashed eye contact with the viewer. A benign smirk plays across one’s lips, while the other’s smile indicates joy. On the far left, the youngest subject looks to her elders, as if for guidance from prophets – her chin resting upon her hand, draped across her raised knee.
"a glimmer of hope, a way forward, emerging from pervasive gloom"
The sense of the prophetic is continued in No Capital to Sing For (2024). Two women sit opposite one another on the floor, each with one leg outstretched and one bent at the knee. Their poses are mirrored except for the raised arm of the right-hand figure, who stretches her finger towards her companion in a gesture recalling Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. From the story of creation to creating a story – the viewer must decide if the motion is revelatory, accusatory or emphatic.
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, The Lifting And The Lifted, 2024. Charcoal on paper. 62.2 x 83.7 x 3.8 cm. Courtesy the Artist and Corvi-Mora, London
If the gallery’s anteroom is dedicated to figures suspended in time, space and context, the larger portion of the gallery feels like a stage – a theatrical set-up, within which everyday actions are elevated, and charged with meaning. In An Oracle in Flight (2024) a man holds an animal’s skull, while in the background a man is depicted mid-stretch. The latter’s taut muscles are at odds with the expressive paint strokes that constitute the background; his simple stretch contains enough vitality that one imagines he might outrun death.
In The Lifting and the Lifted, a choir of seven men is depicted in charcoal. The communal act – the joyful experience of singing together – speaks to the exhibition title: the conspiratorial collective, keeping the moon amongst themselves.
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Vernacular Warnings, 2024. Oil on linen. 130 x 170 x 3.6 cm. Courtesy the Artist and Corvi-Mora, London.
"a quiet yet radical act, crafting works at once elusive and beguiling"
Besides singing, another one of life’s great joys is dancing with abandon. In A Herald in the Spring (2024) a dancer kicks one leg and flails her arms to the right. The jubilant lime-green of her leggings is the only bright pigment within an otherwise muted painting; in contrast to the dark plumes that encircle other subjects, she is shrouded in an aura of light. Turning away from the viewer we see only her profile. Faceless, she enters the realm of the symbolic – a glimmer of hope, a way forward, emerging from pervasive gloom.
With their muted tones and oil swatches, the works in Keep the Moon Amongst Ourselves recall those of the Old Masters; paintings in which Afro-Caribbean diasporic members have often been derogatorily depicted. The artist transforms this visual language in a quiet yet radical act, crafting works at once elusive and beguiling. Yiadom-Boakye’s decontextualised vignettes foreground the boredom and beauty in the everyday; presenting black bodies with panache, pride and – most importantly – without recourse to trauma.