After being awarded the prestigious Silver Lion for his contribution to this year's Venice Architecture Biennale, Brooklyn-based artist Olalekan Jeyifous shows no signs of slowing down. Currently in the midst of preparing his entry to the next Sharjah Architecture Triennial, he also recently celebrated the opening of Climate Futurism, a group exhibition that highlights the power and efficacy of artists’ methods and processes to imagine a more equitable future – and is working on a public monument to former United States Representative Shirley Chisholm as part of New York City's She Built NYC initiative, among other projects.
Equipped with a BArch from Cornell University, Jeyifous's work re-imagines social spaces that examine the relationships between architecture, community, and the environment. He has exhibited widely at venues including the Studio Museum in Harlem, the Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, and the Museum of Modern Art in New York, where his work is featured in the permanent collection of the Department of Architecture and Design.
We spoke with Jeyifous to discuss his recent success, utopian approach to art and architecture, and why he feels science fiction could help the discipline break with exclusionary practices.
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AD: First off, congratulations on your success at this year's Venice Biennale. Can you tell us a little about your contribution and how it came about?
OJ: Thank you! My Venice project evolved from a visual essay commissioned for the book Where Is Africa, edited by Emanuel Admassu and Anita N. Bateman, and published by CARA (Center for Art, Research & Alliances). Shortly thereafter, I received my invitation letter from Lesley Lokko for the Venice Biennale. This was actually an unexpected shock, considering I had taken part in the previous Biennale and wasn’t certain I would be invited to this one.
My speculative world-building projects are always evolving and iterative. So, I saw the Venice Biennale as an incredible opportunity to expand upon the narrative I initiated for Where Is Africa, turning it into a more elaborate and immersive eco-fiction. Interestingly, the project represents a starkly contrasting paradigmatic vision of a retro-futuristic world I crafted for an exhibition at MoMa in 2021 titled "The Frozen Neighborhoods", or TFN. TFN examined a severe and authoritarian legislative response to the global climate crisis that ended up disproportionately impacting marginalized communities, resulting in their immobilization and isolation from the wider world. It also dealt with how a network of communities within predominantly Caribbean Brooklyn, NY responded to those conditions in the intervening years.
For my Venice project, ACE/AAP (African Conservation Effort/ All-Africa Protoport) the rapid removal of exploitative and extractive colonial powers from the continent paves the way for a sustainable technological era, powered by algae and focused on extensive global hyper-mobility across the African Diaspora. The story spans from the early years post-African independence to around *1X72 (X indicates that this is an alternate timeline to our own) with a spotlight on the controversial development of the latest All-Africa-Protoport located on the Barotse Floodplain in Zambia's Western Province. This location features an integrated hybrid network of tidal, solar, and algal energy production aimed at bolstering food security, conserving biodiversity, and supporting the five proprietary AAP travel systems. However, the question of the potential impact on local customs and culture remains a central topic of contention within the larger context.
AD: Your work is – to a large extent – inspired by architectural utopianism. Why did you settle on this approach and what is your process when starting a new project? What do you think are the benefits of designing in this way?
OJ: To be honest, "architectural utopianism" is basically how I place the work within the broader context, which I’ve been told is important to do regarding artist statements, the "canon" and such (laughs). What I’m interested in is examining contemporary or historical sociopolitical, environmental, and economic realities through the prism of science fiction. The genre allows for the amplification of these realities and their placement into imaginative and inventive scenarios, providing the freedom to be as extravagant or restrained as you like. It's an approach where you get complete control over the boundaries and visual language.
I cannot emphasize enough the importance of nurturing speculative practices that employ the "architectural medium" to investigate possibilities, implausibilities, critical and subaltern perspectives, and whimsy within a field that frequently reinforces isolating, regressive practices and policies, and often maintains traditional exclusionary structures.
It stems from my architectural education at Cornell University. During that period (1995-2000), the emphasis was on conceptual exploration rather than practicality. This enabled me to really delve into robust narratives, develop concepts, test different modes of visual representation, and create "artwork" free from the constraints of clients, budgets, office settings, and sometimes even physical limitations. To be able to retain this type of practice as a livelihood has been a great honor and privilege.
I cannot emphasize enough the importance of nurturing speculative practices that employ the "architectural medium" to investigate possibilities, implausibilities, critical and subaltern perspectives, and whimsy within a field that frequently reinforces isolating, regressive practices and policies, and often maintains traditional exclusionary structures.
AD: In your opinion, what role do architecture and public art play when it comes to reclaiming political power, identity, and ownership? How is this reflected in your work?
OJ: This is a question that I grapple with constantly! The short answer is: the impact can vary significantly.
While public artwork and architecture can have the power to uplift and play a crucial role in recognizing the histories and contributions of displaced communities or amplifying marginalized voices, they can also serve as a means to placate these same communities by replacing real material investments or reparations for the violence they’ve endured with murals, sculptures, or well-intentioned architectural projects that lack any long-term infrastructural support for their maintenance. If this is something one cares about, it can create a very complex and conflicting space to navigate.
While public artwork and architecture can have the power to uplift and play a crucial role in recognizing the histories and contributions of displaced communities or amplifying marginalized voices, they can also serve as a means to placate these same communities by replacing real material investments or reparations for the violence they’ve endured with murals, sculptures, or well-intentioned architectural projects
Lately, I’ve been discussing a daydream and working idea I have with my friends and colleagues who navigate this space, calling it "Percent for Policy". It would function as an expansion of the existing "Percent for Art" programs across the country, effectively mandating some kind of action, legislative reform, or tangible investment in the communities or displaced residents whenever a public artwork is commissioned to commemorate or celebrate that community. I haven’t worked out any details but I may reach out to folks with a track record of getting things done to see what they think.
AD: What projects are you currently working on?
OJ: I’m in a group exhibit at Pioneer Works called Climate Futurism alongside fellow artists Erica Deeman and poet Denice Frohman, as part of the Headlands Fellowship. This exhibition, curated by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, will be on display until December 10th, 2023.
Coming up next is the Sharjah Architecture Triennial, opening on November 11th through March 10th, 2024. I’m currently finalizing the installation for this event, and afterward, I’ll be starting work on a solo exhibit at Art Omi, scheduled to debut in the spring of 2024. And then, I manage my usual array of public art commissions, typically handling 5-6 of them concurrently.
AD: What issues do you believe architects and designers should be paying more attention to right now?
OJ: Consider fostering more collaborations with neighboring fields and welcoming the expertise of others. Within architecture, particularly in its educational context, there’s a frequent misconception that we are or should be seen as innate polymaths, but that isn’t the case for the majority (any) of us.
Within architecture, particularly in its educational context, there’s a frequent misconception that we are or should be seen as innate polymaths, but that isn’t the case for the majority (any) of us
Beyond that, I don't particularly advocate dictating what should be someone's life's work or what they should deem "important" to dedicate themselves to. I'd say try not to reinforce exclusionary practices and compensate people you employ, fairly. Life is hard and exhausting; seek joy, community (if that’s your thing), and love along the way.
