Artist Paints Evocative Portraits That Celebrate African Heritage

“Self Love I,” oil on linen, 2024.

When compared to other art forms, portraiture is arguably one of the most intimate. It requires a level of understanding, trust, and reciprocity between an artist and their subject, one that, under a skilled hand, is often reflected in a completed composition. This exchange is what Osimeh Godstand seeks throughout his own practice.

Upon a first glance, it’s clear that Godstand’s paintings exist, first and foremost, for the sake of their subjects. The Nigeria-based artist often depicts women in various contemplative moods, their facial expressions and gestures so intentional that their personalities immediately become evident. Rendered with lavish textures and vivid colors, it’s almost as though these figures speak to us from beyond the canvas.

For Godstand, this is precisely the point. Each painting functions as a voice for the person featured within it, presenting both a personal and communal history inside one composition.

“I see my art as a voice for myself and all those who cannot voice their feelings, a way to engage in a dialogue that transcends time,” the artist explains.

These themes are particularly salient for Godstand, given his position as a contemporary African artist. Throughout his work, the artist emphasizes the resilience, heritage, and culture of the Black community, not just within Africa but in the diaspora and beyond.

“Black culture, African history—it’s always been about expression, about finding ways to speak even when you’re silenced,” Godstand adds. “That’s what my work is trying to do.”

My Modern Met had the chance to speak with Osimeh Godstand about his creative practice and thematic underpinnings. Read on for our exclusive interview with the artist.

“Solitude I,” oil on linen, 2023.

“CMS 1n 9ths,” oil on card, 2023.

What originally drew you to painting as your primary medium, and how has your personal style evolved throughout the years?

It’s funny how things turn out. I never really planned on being a painter. Music was my first love, but then, in secondary school, even without any formal art classes, I just found myself drawing all the time. It was like something inside me needed to get out. When I finally got the chance to actually study art, it just clicked. Painting, especially, felt like the right way to express what I was feeling, what I was seeing in the world around me.

At first, I think my style was a bit more straightforward, maybe a little more focused on just getting the likeness right but, over the years, it’s definitely evolved. I started to realize that it wasn’t just about painting what things looked like, but about capturing what they felt like. That’s when I started experimenting with those hazy backgrounds, using solvents and different techniques to create a more atmospheric feel. I wanted to create spaces where those hidden emotions, those unspoken feelings, could really come to the forefront.

I’ve also become more comfortable with complex compositions, tackling those bigger canvases. It’s like I’m trying to create a whole world within the painting, a space where all those emotions and stories can coexist. The colors have also become more vivid, more expressive, as I want the colors to really sing, to convey the intensity of the feelings I’m trying to capture.

It’s been a journey. I think my style has become more about capturing the essence of human experience, about giving voice to those feelings that are often left unsaid. It’s about creating a space for empathy, for connection, and for recognizing the beauty and complexity of our shared humanity.

“Finding Peace,” oil on linen, 2024.

“The Rose,” oil on linen, 2024.

What is the relationship between you and the subjects you paint?

Over the years, through conversations and interactions, I realized that everyone wants to be heard and given a chance to express how they feel, yet it often seems that no one truly listens, and that everyone is too busy to truly hear.

I see my art as a voice for myself and all those who cannot voice their feelings, a way to engage in a dialogue that transcends time. I weave compelling narratives of individuals, encouraging them to embrace their identity and history, and to always acknowledge their profound beauty, regardless of circumstance.

“Solitude III,” oil on linen, 2024.

“Lagos Island cms,” oil on linen, 2023.

Are there visual themes that you find yourself returning to time and again?

Thinking about my work, it’s funny how certain things just reoccur. I guess you could say my art keeps circling back to a few key visuals.

First off: emotional states. I mean, that’s the whole point, right? Trying to capture those messy, unspoken feelings. It’s like I’m constantly drawn to the way people feel and about telling about my life-hood and my environment.

My paintings range from moody cityscapes of Lagos Island to human portraits, especially of the female form, which are executed on large-scale linen surfaces and hardcard. I’m always telling these narratives, you know? Stories of people, their struggles, their beauty. My environment and the people around me—especially strangers who eventually end up becoming good friends—are both a big part of what I do.

I’ve also got this thing with atmospheric and hazy backgrounds. I use all sorts of tricks to create this kind of dreamy, almost blurred space. It just feels right, somehow pouring my emotions onto my canvas.

Of course, there are also the vivid and atmospheric colors. I just love how oil paints can create these rich, intense hues. It’s like they have a life of their own.

Those are the things I keep coming back to. It’s like they’re part of my artistic DNA.

“Bounded by Amity II,” oil on linen, 2024.

“Self Love II,” oil on linen, 2024.

“A Sunday Morning,” oil on card, 2024.

What does it mean to be a contemporary African artist, and how does your work relate to the broader African art scene and culture?

When I think about what it means to be a contemporary African artist, it’s not about some label or a box you fit into. It’s more about carrying a weight, a responsibility, you know? We’ve got stories to tell, stories that haven’t always been heard.

Think about it. Black culture, African history—it’s always been about expression, about finding ways to speak even when you’re silenced. That’s what my work is trying to do. I’m trying to capture those feelings people keep bottled up, the struggles, the doubts, the search for acceptance. That’s something we all share, but it hits different when you’re dealing with the weight of history, with societal pressures that try to push you down.

We’ve always used art to tell our stories, to fight for our voices. From the spirituals that carried coded messages during slavery to the murals that rose up in the civil rights era, art has always been a way to resist and to reclaim our narrative. My work is just another chapter in that story.

I’m trying to show the beauty in our struggles, to remind us that our history, our identity, and environment is something to be celebrated. We’ve got a legacy of resilience, of finding beauty even in the hardest times. That’s what I want to reflect in my art.

I blend styles and use colors that feel alive because that’s how our culture is—a mix of everything, a constant evolution. It’s about connecting with people on a human level, but also acknowledging the specific experiences we carry. It’s about being part of a long, powerful tradition of using art to speak truth, to heal, and to inspire.

“Solitude II,” oil on linen, 2024.

What are some of your favorite paintings from recent years, and how are they exemplary of your overall practice?

Thinking about some of my recent work, a few pieces really stand out and feel like they capture the heart of what I’m trying to do.

First, there’s Solitude. That one was a deep dive into those quiet, internal spaces. It’s not just about being alone; it’s about the weight of unspoken emotions, the feeling of being unseen even in a crowded room. I blurred the background to really focus on the figure, on that sense of isolation. It’s a prime example of how I try to make those internal struggles visible, how I try to give a face to those feelings we often push down.

Then, there’s Lady Shakara (Lady Conceit). That one was a bit different, more vibrant, more of a direct commentary on social pressures. It’s a playful, but pointed, look at how societal expectations can create these masks we wear. The bold colors and confident pose are trying to celebrate the strength and complexity of identity, even when it’s wrapped up in societal expectations. It’s a reminder that we have the power to define ourselves, to embrace our history and our beauty, even when the world tries to tell us otherwise.

The Red Scarf Series was a real exploration of narrative. Each piece in that series tells a story, a fragment of a life, using the red scarf as a symbol of connection. It’s about weaving those compelling narratives and giving voice to individuals and their journeys.

These works all reflect my core practice: to capture the emotional depth of human experience, to give voice to the voiceless, and to celebrate the beauty and resilience of our shared humanity. They’re all part of that ongoing dialogue that attempts to connect on a deeper level, to create art that resonates and speaks to the soul.

“Lady Shakara I (lady conceit),” oil on linen, 2022.

“Innocent Gaze,” oil on linen, 2023.

What do you hope people will take away from your work?

Honestly, more than anything, I hope people see themselves in my work. I want them to feel seen and heard, especially those who feel like their voices don’t matter. You know, in our heritage, in Black culture, we’ve always found ways to speak, to share our stories, even when others tried to silence us. That’s what I’m trying to continue.

I hope people walk away feeling encouraged, like their struggles, their joys, their whole story is valid. I want them to recognize the strength and beauty that’s always been a part of who we are, a legacy we carry. I want my art to be a reminder that we’re not alone, that our experiences, our emotions, they connect us.

“Lady Shakara III (lady conceit),” oil on linen, 2024.

Do you have any exciting projects coming up this year?

I’m really excited about a new project called A Wish to Be Celebrated. It’s a deep dive into the desire for recognition and validation, something I think resonates deeply within our community. It’s about capturing that yearning for our stories, our contributions, to be acknowledged.

Osimeh Godstand: Instagram

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. My Modern Met granted permission to feature photos by Osimeh Godstand.

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