African artists define women in multicolour

The first social media art trend I stumbled on, ‘my art when I started and my art now’ taught me of the evolutionary process of art in a way contemporary art has never reflected. It was fast-paced, multidimensional, and influenced by the immersive experience of a virtual world that is consistently exposed to fresh, unbridled ideas.

Since then, I've witnessed more of these trends and fallen in love with how they compel artists to create artworks that speak to far-reaching possibilities while questioning our impressions of art. I've been enthralled by how they energize the artist's mind to push the barriers around contemporary art's rigid principles through their vast interpretation of the themes. In fact, I had never seen the retelling of Africa's progressiveness echo across borders as much as it did through digital art trends. They make a point, they tell a story, they leave you bedazzled. And not subtly, but as conspicuously as you can imagine, stretching both artists and audiences’ comprehension of how art can exist and be distributed. 

The ‘show me how you paint women’ trend had been going on casually since May 2023, but started recirculating again in August of the same year. It had never come up before and was a new idea to elicit an expansive range of interpretations of what the image of women is or could look like, in the minds of various artists. It grabbed my attention quickly since—throughout the history of contemporary art—popular characterizations of African women like the Portrait of an African Woman and the Portrait of Madeleine have looked at us in a way that either projected the artist’s warped imagination of our appeal or in a way that depicted artists’ disapproval of our unconventionality. And even as younger African artists like Toyin Odutola try to erase this crooked perception of us in her multifaceted presentation of what African women are, we are still lazily perceived from Eurocentric sentiments.

I was looking to this trend for a reformed interpretation of the African women's essence. Not the thick-thighed, sultry-eyed women lacking any ounce of a personality aside from embodying sexual tools like contemporary art popularizes, but something more accurate yet eccentric. Think Toyin Odutola but in the unconstrained minds of digital artists. Soon enough, I found just what I was looking for when Twitter user Viola quoted one of the tweets and drew many African artists to the trend. It was astonishing to see these art pieces, not just because they were more accurate depictions of what I was seeking, but because they presented many unexplored depths in the appreciation of African women. They made me see a profoundness that I had formerly not considered – the African woman's flaws when she has power and when she is without, her hair when she exists in a world she governs, and her attire when there is no morality fashion police.

Amidst the myriad of works that were able to capture African women in a way that showed how digital art could embody the nuanced themes that contemporary artists often miss while picturing African women, some artworks were even more outstanding. Their works were able to stretch my thoughts around what women's depictions should embody. Artists like Ayobola, Jekein, and Chigozie – used multiple colours in their art to exemplify how African women, of any colour and tribe, with flaws or perfections, conventional or not, are beauty themselves, and our existence and contributions bring beauty to a place. Across various cultures in the continent, multi-colour combinations symbolize beauty – it's visible in our interior decor, for eventful occasions that we really like, with book covers, in food preparation, and fabric design. These three artists are telling a story about this aesthetic, about what is considered beautiful in this specific context, and through this social media trend, the image of women becomes a shared way for them to do so from diverse perspectives.

Jekein, 27 and Nigerian, looks at women – their bodies, their skins, and their specificity – as a mosaic with line patterns that enclose multiple colours like With Her Head In The Clouds, 2023. In her representation, African women exist in unique colour combinations that stand out from each other in a way that almost seems like they're not meant to tell one story, narrating the idea that there should be no logical explanation for unconventional traits in women outside the concept of their uniqueness because this is how they bring beauty to the continent.

Chigozie's brush strokes feel languid, yet defined, faint yet loud enough in rhythmical layers of hues expressed by the one placed next to it in a flattering manner. The women’s facial expressions are encapsulated by a salad of different tones: the creases in their frowns, the dip in their eyes when they appear lost, or the stretch of their cheeks, when they smile are highlighted by distinct shades. Her women are vibrant, vehement, or happy, but will live through life or live above it.

Ayobola's recent works show women sketched and painted in several colours and dramatic line art whose representations hint at an underlying narrative beyond what can be easily deduced, making her audience wonder what that story is and how it relates to the easily deductible narrative of the picture. Through the class of women that she portrays, high-society and the lower-middle class who are seeking closure, there is an appearance of sassiness, ignorance, or sneakiness, describing the many complexities that can coexist behind women’s outward appearance and asserts that it is these complexities that emphasize our beauty. 

In my exploration of African cultures, social media art trends have become my go-to for renditions that explain the nuance and cultural grounding of African representation through art. And so I pay keen attention to every trend—more than I would an exhibition announcement—because there has never been a time when I didn't transform and expand my opinions of my roots. With different theme calls, I have understood the heightened consciousness around puberty in African women through Tanzanian hyper-realism, the glint of African skin against native fabrics in watercolour by Ghanaian artists, and the similarities between art and the traditional symbols of beauty by Nigerian artists.

Chidinma Iwu is a writer interested in deep dives and analyses into underreported phenomenons that underpin large subcultures. She writes about technology, sustainability, gender justice, and culture as we know it for Worth, Paste, Fast Company, Shondaland, Daily Dot, ARTnews, etc. Read more of her articles or follow her on Twitter where she's dedicatedly yapping about the political and economical state of the world.