Some mistakes are just beautiful alignments...

The Fishermen play by author, Chigozie Obioma is one of those plays that I’ve yearned to see again since November 2018. It was the integration of the perfectly timed dancing that will always cement that play in my memory. Watching the stage brothers tap their feet and clap on the stage-floor and their bodies to create all sorts of rhythms was mesmerizing, and the audience was totally silent, soaking it all in.... so you can imagine how gassed I was to find out that the film adaptation is showing this year! Ticket secured, pronto!

I always aim to make a day out feel like a school trip focused on art. Luckily, I stumbled upon 'The' Gabriel Moses' Selah exhibition through BLK ART MAP, and it just so happens that the last day is the same as our trip! I recognize the artist's name, not because of his fame, but from a quick article I read. He said something that really stuck with me—he wasn't afraid to create and share his art without worrying about having an audience. I love that idea—remembering the true essence of creating instead of seeking approval first, and of course, just having fun with it!

The 31^st marks the day! I'm undeniably excited this morning. I just picked out some Too Good to Go snacks online for the trip. Planning to hit up an art exhibition, check out a plant stall on Brick Lane, and sip on chai tea at Cafe 1001 while thinking about adulting—all in one day! And to top it off? I've got my copy of The Fishermen ready to be signed by director, Zoey Martinson! Just took a quick look online to check the screening details and realized she's the auteur director? And the film's actually called The Fisherman—oops, didn't catch that typo. Honestly, I do stuff like this all the time and don't really sweat mistakes.

After checking out the film synopsis, I was super intrigued... a talking dead fish? Count me in! I figured I'd add a little more magic to the day by trying some bibliomancy before heading out. So, I flipped open The Fishermen to page 31, of course, since it's the 31st today!

It reveals a defiant father named Ikenna, a man who refused to allow societal constraints shatter his sketched out ‘map of dreams’. Seeing the title ‘The Eagle’ was very affirming as we all know of the Super Eagles, right? Felt like my hometown was supporting me in reaching my goals and of course, Moses is of Nigerian heritage. The flight references were intriguing as well as in many ways starting out this art critic blog feels like reaching new heights. Ikenna reminds me of Moses’ in many ways as aforementioned in the commentary before. Moses wasn't afraid to start putting his videos out on YouTube and funnily enough, they were football videos! Feeling aligned, I'm ready go... and I'll conclude the rest of the trip at the end of this article/blog/crit? :)

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Gabriel Moses: Selah Exhibition at 180 Studios

I’m so glad I went on a day when it wasn’t super crowded because the great use of space becomes more obvious– you can really appreciate how they use the space. Seriously, the unforgettable spatial elements was the first thing that hit me, and it totally changed how I experienced the art. Moses excels at curating dark, empty spaces, effortlessly drawing me into the powerful introductory cinematics. The intense lighting was striking, precisely timed to enhance each frame. This wasn't about showcasing a high budget or grandeur to quickly captivate his audience upon arrival. Oh no! This is an artist who is really considering how the space, ambience and atmosphere of exhibition can serve as a spatial supplement to the visuals.

Even amongst the grandiose aerial views of a supermodel hanging from a helicopter it's complied with juxtaposing ‘behind-the-scenes stills offering a candid insight. Even though, I felt the audio wasn’t as strong, the visuals made up for it and in a weird way, the lack of audial clarity felt right with the cinematography’s grittiness– a signature welcoming of Moses’ sharp yet rough, daring yet candid, innately genius exhibition. 

As the introductory film concludes, the exhibition evokes a sense of a journey. You navigate down the sloping gallery room floor to proceed to the next section of the exhibition. The descending staircase at the gallery entrance and now, the sloping floor in the unapologetically dark space impart a sensation of kinetic depth. No seriously, I was somewhat shook about continuing with the rest of the show. As I faced my fear and moved deeper into the exhibition, I found the spatial layout to be incredibly captivating and alluring. It was intensely overwhelming (perhaps just for me?), but tastefully mysterious as you travel into the next area– 'The Colombia' room as named by me, for the following reasons:

Taking a left turn in this space, the first photo I see is Moses’ personal depiction of the notable Columbia pictures logo. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I have been working on an idea that involves the same logo. Although only because, I mistakenly assumed that the Columbia film image was written as ‘Colombia’. However, was still affirming as I did end up discovering that the logo was done by an oil painter. Moreover, the conceptual ideology originates from my afro-diaspora spiritual research within the country Colombia.  This is an idea that I am deeply passionate and these kind of moments always serve an undeniable universal confirmation of ‘being on the right track’. For obvious and very biased reasons, this was the standout photo in the room.

Taking in the rest of the left-side gallery wall. The photography is visibly dark and moody. Usually, I find that when photographers explore dark photography they end up producing monotonous collections. All for the sake of visual cohesiveness but here, Moses isn’t afraid to explore the depths of blacks and to that we are truly thankful for– what a visual delight!

The dark-skinned black models become almost submerged in the gravelly, bold black backgrounds. It's playful and lacks complete inhibition– a childlike visual exploration and manipulation of dark frames. In some of these shots, the background is softly subdued into the muses’ bare skin. I appreciated how the dark lightning did not present the barely clothed women in a garish objectifying way. It felt natural and comfortable to look it. The inhibited creative inquiry combined with fully grown women– shows that Moses is still an adult man that hasn’t lost his playful curiosity. 

Taking a glance at the rest of the 'Colombia' room, the artistic identity of Gabriel Moses becomes stronger. He stays close to his roots. The London-ness is undeniable even with non-native muses, there’s a street-smart-esque in all his creations. 

Another standout photo for me was the beautiful portrait of the woman with red roses in the background. The first thing that strikes me is the bright vermillion red hue that is across the floral background and adorns the muses’ cheeks. The fiery colour enhances the warmth of her bronze-umber skin tone. To me, it was like viewing a print from an original oil painting (can anyone guess the oil painter I immediately thought of?). Again, I love Moses' use of darks, the black dress blends seamlessly into background, and transforms a costume to an aesthetically pleasing silhouette feature. 

Oh my goodness! Every single gallery room was full of delightful surprises. Gabriel Moses is the gift that keeps on giving. Firstly, the use of the bright colour panel in the vertical screen split is aesthetically pleasing– using a green panel and a model with strong red makeup created an eye-grabbing high-contrast visual as the complimentary colours really stood out. This effect allows Gabriel to break the third wall as the audience naturally drawn to other side; capturing an unobtrusive sincere window into the 'ordinary' of the glamourous models’ lives and others. These insights ranged from a lone model, two young babies to even Kanye West. Mr West is shot in a natural lightning that almost made me forget the status of the subject. I thought that was reflective of Moses’ artwork and maybe persona, who knows... just simply interested in making art and his passion isn't diluted or negated by fame.

Next, I went to view the film titled ‘The Last Hour’. A timer is placed on the gallery wall above the entrance to the screening. Another timer also appears on the film’s protagonist. Gabriel is mindful with spatial curation as an enhancement to his visual narratives. Besides that, I generally felt the pressure of the time as the plot of the film developed.

The impending ticking digital clock imbedded into the skin of his bare chest. The dichotomy of the clock’s placement amongst the realistic cutaways into the everyday life fabrications creates a surrealist dystopian effect. The intensity increases as we pay witness to the character’s downward spiral into their coping vices. Seeking comfort in drugs and alcohol as he battles as the inevitable time bomb. The frames are chaotically directed resulting in a visual explosion. Moses’ is confident in handling absolute madness– the effect is the audience cannot escape the visual effects, I most definitely felt anxious and stressed from observation.  

Next, I headed into a beautifully laid out gallery room where the video and sculpture worked as a complementary pairing entitled ‘Hands Down’. The close stills of the skin texture alongside the subtle roughness of the bronze sculpture creates textural harmony. The spatial placement of the artworks added further to the cohesion. A vulnerable skin-to-skin contact is visually implied as both backs are facing each other and are both in a rounded and questionably protective in posture. You know, as an artist I love going up close to see the finer details. However, I found the room dimension allowed me to observe from a distance. It's amazing how even at a distance, the closeness of both artworks is still felt.

As I was busy observing this pairing, I heard other visitors say “Oh, there's more!” and I, hands down, shared the same sentiments (pun intended.) Honestly, I could probably talk about every single gallery room, but I would have missed my screening (even after spending an unintended two and a half hours there). 

Moving down the mysterious gallery hallways, I found my last room to critique.  It felt noteworthy as the lighting in custom metal photo frames increased the luminosity and radiance in this selection. These were my personal favourites: 

The soft lilac-blue undertones gracefully mimics the intricate textural softness of the lace material and creates a pearly highlight on the exposed skin – it's a delicious tone to use on deep-rich mahogany skin! He carefully considers different ways of capturing this skin tone. A softer approach is taken through the placement of the facial veil as the iridescent skin becomes tastefully subdued.  

By holding back on the sharpness of unveiled skin forces the viewer to take a deeper inquisition into the model; as the blacks lay within the fine details. The viewer now intensely gazes into the tear ducts, nostrils, the finger waves. It’s clever. He also uses blacks to frame the overall composition at a greater distance whilst simultaneously asking the viewer to take a closer inspection at the subject. 

I appreciated the reverse white balance in combination with various purple to blue saturations. The strongest saturation being ultramarine french blue (red tint); creates a rhythmic outline framing the subject into the photo in a collage-like manner. Besides the veil, the silver-egg shaped prop is another clever kinetic device as the strong light reflection among the metal surface draws your eyes away from the inescapable depth within the model’s gaze towards the bottom of the photo.

Having these two images in the same room highlights the different ways Moses uses visual textures to not only add contrast but different layers. This guy frames shots like a stylist frames an outfit as he technically dresses the scene.

So, in the previous one, we’ve addressed the framing black background and visual softness emitted from the lace and lilac hues. However, in this one, the background becomes the soft element and in replacement, the dark aspect is the highly sheened model.

The oil spill is an aesthetical prop that maximises the canvas’s glossy finish. Besides this, it acts as a framing device. The placement creates visual movement - literally akin to painter considering the ‘golden rule’ in composition. This is when photography becomes a painting, in my opinion. Notice how the spill is also placed against the floor work drawing the viewer into the dry surface area which gently mimics scumbling brushstrokes.  

If not for the film screening, I reckon I could have stayed for four hours just absorbing all of the creative genius but alas, I had to head to the The Fisherman screening!

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Zoey Martinson: The Fisherman screening (S.O.U.L Fest 2025 x ABFF Global)

Now when they said talking fish, I wasn’t expecting that kind of talking fish! Neither was I expecting the fish to take on the role as the protagonist's wise-cracking sidekick— think Timon from the Lion King! I immediately interpreted the fish as a symbolic nod to an inner guidance. Atta Oko names the fish Koobi suggesting an innate familiarity and close spiritual bond between the protagonist and the dead fish. This hints that the significance of the funny dead fish has deeper roots. The wisecracking comical style takes frontline in the script is interweaved with profound quotes that function as a deeper query into the spirituality seeped within the film. 

 “... the one place that gives even when those that come don’t deserve—the sea.”  

Roots are the spiritual home. The sea. The fish’s habitat. The idea of forgiveness and upliftment through inner guidance is presented here. As much as the quote takes on a redemptive stance, it also suggests greed. This moral contradiction becomes the underlying philosophical storyline within the script.

It’s not by chance that Atta receives the fish instead of being promoted as the captain. The notion signifies the spiritual undercurrents seeped throughout the film. Here, we have Atta is diminished to an oolu, meaning ‘someone who has served their purpose’ as his peers overlooked his hardworking years as a traditional fisherman in favour of a new fishing gadget. Yet in this moment what appears to be an insulting gift becomes an invaluable source of wisdom and abundance. It also hints at the widely thought concept of balance within the spiritual field—the coexistence of good and bad. For where there is greed, there is also redemption. Martinson may have script full of painfully cheesy jokes, but her choices have a profound effect.

The fish can be seen as the first entry of spiritualism. At the start of the film, Atta appeared to be startled by the talking fish. Although, I found it peculiar that he didn’t disregard and rebuke in typical African fashion as such a bizarre first discovery would be seen as 'juju'. Instead, Atta simply doesn’t want anyone else to hear a talking fish so attempts to hide it. The instant need to protect the fish from being visible highlights his duty to preserve tradition from colonial ruling; and perhaps, his first contact with his own intuition? I mean he did decide to leave his modernised workplace marking his own rediscovery of self-value.  

As he grows accustomed to his new spiritual companion, he no longer attempts to hide it. However, this display of intuitive pride comes with society scrutiny. There’s a close relationship between intuition and having a childlike spirit as it requires belief with no inhibition. As people age and become exposed to implied limitations, they fear to dream beyond reality, possess a wild imagination; and trust their internal compass. It is indeed a rare sighting and Atta’s sanity is questioned by his younger peers as he freely talks to Koobi openly.

Here, it becomes clear as to why this film took five years to develop from a short feature to a full-length film. It’s the thoughtful choices. The odd grouping of the main cast is a great example of this.  Following Atta’s departure from his workplace, he forms his own fishing team which consists of himself, and the youth named Shasha, Kobina and Emmanuel. A group of misfits according to imposed societal restraints of ageism, gender and poverty. Rather than showcasing commonly used visuals to depict these barriers e.g. walking cane prop for old age, an exaggerated use of derogatory terms towards untamed women or inhumane scenes of the less affluent, Martinson makes the strategic decision to use another quote as a visual aid: 

“Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime.” 

Everyone knows this quote. Incredible! It was narrated after the young orphans sold Koobi which is interesting because throughout the film, their want for material substances as a symbol of status and power is persistent. Martinson uses poverty to underscore the capitalist by-product of colonialism. On the other hand, the elder, Atta understood the fish's teachings were the origin of their ‘lifetime’ abundance. For example, when Koobi becomes a source of luck leading Atta’s group to win copious amounts of money, Atta’s choice to give up their winnings is crucial. Instead of helping his comrades fight off the bitter losing team, he decides to ask for Koobi back, recognising the true value of Koobi’s teachings, which are revealed as the foundational matriarchal principles. The colonial effect on African spirituality is delicately implied throughout the film in tender, heart-breaking moments. Martinson casually inserts easy wisecracks to reveal deeper themes of tradition and spiritualism whilst echoing the contradictory universal balance between redemption and abundance versus greed and colonialism. 

Atta’s role as an elderly figure represents the cultural tradition in a new generation. He struggles to keep up with or accept the ever-advancing world, where technology is in continuous development and taking prevalence over human interaction and wisdom. Through this ordeal, Martinson proposes a satirical investigation regarding the impacts of colonialism and technology by questioning what is really needed for the human development. Is it advancing technology to navigate the seawaters rather than using an internal compass? Or acquiring money as a quick solution rather trusting a spiritual guidance to abundance? This question doesn’t ask for an answer. Martinson’s stance is clear as the genuine triumphant moments occur when the colonial disruption of the traditional system in Africa becomes reversed as the matriarchal system is prioritised.  

For example, Shasha’s designation as the lead captain is due to her vast knowledge. It would be expected that Atta would take up the role himself—after all, that's why he created this group and given that women were not allowed to lead the crew. Secondly, when his wife eats Koobi, a clear spiritual invocation takes place, allowing Koobi speaking through her. Her lack of apprehension before consuming Koobi indicates familiarity, whereas Atta is in complete shock again. Her preparation of the dish reveals her innate knowledge of using spiritual guidance and tools to their full advantage, akin to Shasha’s expertise of navigating the seawaters. The contrast of external and internal communication showcases the matriarchal principles within the precolonial African belief systems. It’s interesting that this takes place at the end of the film; she never needed to grow any kind of relationship with Koobi. He doesn’t speak to her only through her. She becomes Koobi.

Another colonial reversal is the display of ancestral pride. Atta refuses to succumb to the manipulation of the ancestral roots deriving from the derogatory western term, ‘juju’. He isn’t afraid to dance ‘barbarically’ on the tables, breaking free from social restraints. His dance represents the ancestral fighting spirit.  It’s ironic that Atta’s dance saved Koobi from being the star-piece sushi party delicacy as the idea of consumption here is historically tragic. The value of the fishing proverb becomes subtly inverted. Martinson shows that yes, the single fish is a plentiful source as the sushi will feed many guests. However, the spiritual abundance is mutilated into a capitalist format and of course, by nature will only be eaten for the ‘day’. In juxtaposition, when Koobi is eaten by Atta’s wife in a traditional African dish, the consumption is a joyful and spiritual experience. At the party, Atta symbolically overturns a painful history of the enslaved Africans. 

The film serves as a care package to descendants of the enslaved as the notion of ancestral roots taking precedence is healing. Atta represents the real fight taking place; the fight for generational preservation. His request back for Koobi further reveals his personal lineage battle; despite Atta’s roots, even the fruits from his family tree are beginning to rot. His daughter, Naa, steps away from tradition and is ashamed of his fisherman job title. Martinson hints at Naa’s disconnection through her discourse with Shasha: 

Shasha: Do you miss the sea?

Naa : Some of us don’t swim.    

The ideology of swimming isn’t literal here as we know that as a child, Naa had a close bond with fish, as her dad proudly recalls her compassionately returning her ‘fish friends’ back to the sea. She doesn’t even acknowledge the sea in her response— the very place that homed her childhood friends, the place of spiritual guidance and abundance. Unfortunately, her answer acknowledges that her spiritual inhibition has become lost with colonialism. It further indicates the gradual memory loss of her native identity. 

Although Shasha again becomes a figure for tradition, a figure of the reclamation of identity, the questioning mirrors the essence of the matriarchal internal guidance from The Great Mother archetypes as she urges her child to recall her ancestral roots. These roots provide the ancestral tools of spiritualism required for colonialism resistance. It’s beautifully comforting as it suggests that collective consciousness still mothers, guides, and lives within the children of the westernised second-generation diaspora.

If I had to create a strapline for the film, it’s simple: spirit still lives on. 

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Oh what a day! I didn’t get to go the plant store or buy any Good-to-go snacks but Tesco reduced section niced me 😊 Anyways, thought I’d share some more trippy alignments other than the 'Colombia' room.

After roaming through the mysterious gallery space, I came across a ‘time will test them' sign at 1:01pm. I'm not that superstitious at all, this timing just felt right and kinda scary? In fact, I walked away in a panic because I found the gallery space intense enough. I came back to take a picture in front of the sign and unbelievably it was 1:11pm.

But yeahhh I'm back home, cosied up in my bed and I decide to glance back at 'page 31'. In hindsight, Ikenna really reminds of Atta- their needs to preserve their traditions is very similar. Feeling the magic one more, I thought I'd indulge in another bibliomancy session. Typically, I choose number 7 because naturally it's my favourite number. 

On page 7, lies a proverb and a poem. The Igbo proverb reminded me of the sign 'There's no ego when it comes to hustle. If small boy know road follow am' that I saw at Moses' exhibition, but from a spiritual perspective. In this context, however, an individual must gain an ancestral ego and fully surrender to the journey, trusting that whilst walking a perhaps new and unfamiliar 'road', the 'footsteps' of the many ancestors accompany them offering guidance.

Secondly, the poem by Mazisi Kunene’s reminded me of the Atta’s refusal to allow the western ‘madman’ to defile the tradition, the ‘sacred grounds.’ In a similar fashion, Moses’ central placement of African sculpture within the gallery room surrounded by photographic walls is also spatially rebellious. It's undeniable that:

spirit still lives on across all generations.