Reader Highlight: Oluwafunmilayo Obasa
Oluwafunmilayo Obasa, a non-fiction writer, poet, and photographer, is passionate about documenting muffled stories with her art. Her words paint the spontaneity of her imagination, humanity & equality [for all], desires, and emotions, in abstract ways, forging a relationship between society and existence. Some of her works are published in African Writer, Cephalopress, Brittlepaper, Kalahari Review, etc. When she is not writing poems or essays, she enjoys binging on cartoons and playing games.
For the first post in our series highlighting members of our masthead, Editor Edison Angelbello talked to her about poetic practice, inspiration, and how she approaches poetry.
Edison: What made you want to become a reader at Non.Plus?
Oluwafunmilayo: So many things. You hardly ever see a magazine that is “dedicated to the weird.” I love that phrase! It suits me so much. And I am a strong advocate for people, myself included, who write poems that deviate from the norm, or that sound somehow to people. I also applied because I thought it would be cool to join an inclusive group, and I do not regret one single bit of it. I love how diverse the team is!
E: Could you speak a little bit to your poetic practice, what themes guide you as you write? What do you keep coming back to?
O: I do not have a definite poetic practice, writing poems feel so random to me. So, sometimes, when I have a writer’s block, I do not get worried or pressure myself to write. I hate the pressure because I feel writing is best done when it comes from within, not when you force it out. The random bursts of zeal to write matter the most to me.
The major themes that guide me are history, feminism, psychology and an intersection of the three. There’s so much misogyny in Nigeria (and all around the world) and apathy towards women in history that I cannot ignore the drive to write about these topics. The constant attack on women riles me up occasionally. And I become dismayed by biases men and women alike reinforce about the role of women in Nigeria. It’s so pervasive and I dislike that very much.
Other sub-themes like solitude and religion guide me as well. Although I no longer consider myself as religious, I think there’s so much to learn (the good and the bad) from merely observing religious people. In fact, I love observing people and I try to fathom why they adhere to their ideas and values. And solitude? My goodness, it’s such a lovely thing to explore. As an introvert, I crave it very much. I can’t imagine what I would feel like if I didn’t find time to stay alone and listen to my thoughts daily.
E: In addition to being a poet, you’re also a photographer. Has photography changed the way you look at poetry? Or likewise, has poetry changed the way you approach photography?
O: I can’t say for sure. I think it goes both ways. Sometimes my poetry influences my photography. It urges me to find ways to make my photos elusive. Other times, it is photography that influences my poetry. I have come to like photographers who take simple, yet complex and piercing images without the excess colour grading, filters and retouching that often make photos look unrealistic. I love how raw these images are and how they literally strip the subject(s) naked, and actually attempt to tell their stories without giving them a different, untrue colour. So, I try to achieve this effect with my poetry. Sometimes, when I do not want to hide the true essence of a poem (because my reason for writing poems is to be as elusive and covert as possible), I want my words to come out the way they are within: raw, unfiltered, with their true colours. I think about photographs that have so little yet evoke strong emotions in the viewer and I think of how I can make my poetry stand out in that manner.
E: Are there any specific poets or collections that have been influential to your work, and any particular artists that influence your visual art?
O: Frankly, and I know this may sound weird as a poet, but I mostly draw inspiration and influence from nonfiction and fiction writers, and yes photographers who take simple but evocative images. Yes, I read poetry from time to time, but I do so merely to understand how form and language can be shaped and how I can apply those shape-shifting techniques. Writers like Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, Lawrence Hill who wrote the book of Negroes, one of my favourite books and Toni Morrison, she’s so good, I don’t even know where to start all influence me to write the way I do. They have all written about gender and race in subtle, yet striking ways. It’s really hard to explain. As for visual art, photographers like Yagazi Emezi and Yurie Nagashima a inspire me so much. I particularly adore Nagashima’s works on gender and feminism in Japan and how she expresses, so acutely, the freedom of women in her pictures.
E: What role, if any, should poetry play in the world right now?
O: Activism. I see poetry as activism. And seeing it in this manner reminds me of Chinua Achebe’s generation and how they wielded the power of poetry against the corrupt government. Another instance I will give is one that occurred during the ENDSARS protests in Nigeria. It was so beautiful to watch as Nigerian poets wrote about police brutality creatively. They wrote about death, sorrow, grief, all relating to police brutality in Nigeria and all over the world. I also believe in having a voice and the strength it possesses. So, activism and voice go hand in hand.
E: Do you have any advice for aspiring artists striving to make good art in the world today?
O: To all aspiring artists striving to make good art in the world today, I say to you that your voice possesses great strength. Use it wisely, for things you care for and are passionate about. Today, I know it’s easy to get overwhelmed and overshadowed and discouraged, particularly during these times of Covid-19. But for me, the voice is the most important gift you can ever have to overcome those drab feelings.