FROM APRIL 2019 ISSUE OF WEST END PHOENIX

Ekow Nimako with the head of his sculpture Cavalier Noir

The Leslieville artist Ekow Nimako makes sculptures out of a surprising medium: Lego. Almost always monochromatic, frequently black and composed of both animals and human- like figures, his art is deeply focused on representation, Blackness and identity. Black children, he says, are his ideal audience: “They’re not going to go into the art world and see themselves. That’s who I’m building for”

When and where did your practice start?

The long answer: 1984, when I was five years old, when I started getting into Lego, without really knowing that’s what I wanted to do. That’s what started my training. The short answer is in 2014, when I had my first exhibition, “Building Black.” That’s when I became a Lego artist. I love to create worlds. Coming from a Ghanaian household, you get an understanding about oral tradition. And I was always drawn to artwork that had a strong sense of narrative. I haven’t always been particularly interested in high-concept art. I appreciate representational art and the recognized skill that goes into that – that is honed for hours and hours.

What about representation? There’s long been a debate about a pan-African or global Black identity. What are your feelings about Blackness as an overarching category?

I consider Black consciousness magic. I’d argue that there is something powerful and unifying about coming to understand one’s Black identity in this world, because anti-Black racism is so pervasive. And at the same time, it’s juxtaposed with Black culture being so consumable. It’s a commodity that gets traded, bought and worn. The magical element is understanding the power within, but also understanding that paradox of being Black in this world. There are definite differences, but you also know when you see another Black person that there’s something shared.

There’s a very robotic or android-esque quality to your work. Where does that come from?

I’m fascinated with androids and cyborgs, and also the future and futuristic landscapes. The first thing I did after seeing Back to the Future II was go home and start drawing.

You once described “Cavalier Noir,” a sculpture of a Black child atop a unicorn, as your seminal work. Why?

It was a challenging sculpture. But creating a piece that has such force and is so Black – not in the sense of the colour, but the rider has cane rows. Black hair is such a political statement. To create an equestrian-style monumental artwork that isn’t an old white man on a horse was really important.

Who do you think of as your audience?

I want my work to gain as wide an audience as possible. And I definitely want more continental Africans and Afro-diasporic people to know about my work – more than any art professional who understands sculpture or movements of art that have come before or after, and can break down my work on an intellectual or aesthetic level based on their understanding of art.

Kind Words Bring the Serpent from its Hole

Who is your ideal audience?

It’s young Black children, because I know they’re not going to go into the art world and see themselves. That’s always the most important audience to me. That’s who I’m building the work for.

It feels like there’s a sense of reclamation in taking something people think of as a child’s toy and making art from it. How does that link to mythology or Blackness?

Yeah, I’d say there is a reclamation, because Lego wasn’t made for Black children necessarily. It’s universal, but not really. It’s like The Simpsons, where yellow becomes default white. So there’s definitely something empowering about taking this material not meant for us and representing and creating us. And not only that. I’m very aware of the virtuosity of it, too. I want to be recognized as a Black sculptor who uses that material, but I also want people to appreciate the aesthetics. It’s important to me that the best person to ever do it is a Black man.

BUILDING BLACKNESS, BRICK BY BRICK