The Mytho-politics of Elena Njoabuzia Onwochei-Garcia
Elena Njoabuzia Onwochei-Garcia, Fly on the Wall, 2022, Oil and chalk on polycotton. Photography by the artist.
Of Nigerian, German, and Spanish heritage, Elena Njoabuzia Onwochei-Garcia’s large-scale installations interlink the past and contemporary histories. The eclectic quality of her work takes on historical research and references from classical Spanish literature and discloses the conflicts that may arise from multiple narratives.
However, this aspect of contradictions between shifting perspectives are addressed with receptivity, opening up the tension and uncertainty as the viewer enters the confined space constructed in between the suspended papers of Japanese washi. The movement of the viewer animates Onwochei-Garcia’s fictionalized and life-size identities, enhancing their destabilizing force and agency. The clamorous scenes and the jumbled arrangement of the elements create both a monumental but fragile presence.
Onwochei-Garcia’s use of literature and allegories consider the recurring cycles of power and oppression, her installations as stage-like or theatrical environments that deliver insight on how myths are formed and the underlying conditions upon which the histories are fabricated. Onwochei-Garcia’s methodology is a reminder of the cyclical pattern in which histories are used for the aberration of truths, with the intention to uphold hegemonic structures that exclusively benefit the governing authorities. Her depiction of past myths draw relevant parallels to contemporary discussions such as surveillance, fake news and media manipulation.
In her most recent participation at the inaugural exhibition of Elizabeth Xi Bauer, Onwochei-Garcia displays her latest work Nonsense Begins (2025), following her signature large-scale cut-out collages in the style of magical realism. Here, she approaches the blame & fear culture which is a continuation of her studies on societal structures and power dynamics. In this work, the collective of interlocked creatures seem to be engaging in a repetitive act of exchanging verbose, passing information from one ear to another. Their fluid gestures are the mechanics of rumor-spreading, the whispers and the shifts of meaning that inherently occur as the message travels through motion. In the context of blame culture, this chain of communication is central to creating a ripple effect in society that implicates both the speaker and the receiver in an ongoing behavior of deflection, accusation, degradation, and mistrust.
What projects are you currently working on?
I’m currently working on an installation series titled Brutus, Are You Asleep? Coming off last year, most of my work was created for a solo show, but this year my projects feel more dispersed. I like to think of all the works existing together at some point in the studio before they make their way to their respective exhibitions. This series is designed from a studio space and that has been an opportunity to experiment not only with composition but also with installation and materiality. It feels like my most politically charged work.
I first started creating paper paintings on Washi, then moved into cutout compositions, and now I’m experimenting with painting on stone. These elements previously existed separately, but I’ve been thinking about how I could weave them together within the installation. I’m experimenting with the spatial setup and considering how the materiality influences the viewing experience.
How was your introduction to Japanese Washi paper?
When I was younger my parents gave me a beautiful Japanese calligraphy set. I must have been 13 or 14 at the time. That was my first introduction to Washi, I was drawn to how ink moves across that material. As I got older, I started using it as a painting surface because I loved its smoothness, especially in contrast to canvas, which tends to hold onto the paint due to its grain—creating a grid. Washi sort of sits between wall and textile and has this fluidity that allows for molding and reshaping in ways that a traditional canvas frame doesn’t.
Your work has a theatrical quality, often referencing classic literature. Are there any contemporary plays, performances, or writers that influence you?
In terms of contemporary performance, Pina Bausch comes to mind. There’s a haunting quality about her work that resonates. I’ve also researched Ingmar Bergman’s literary works, though I haven’t seen the plays themselves. And while he’s not contemporary, Federico García Lorca is among my references. I did a whole series inspired by The House of Bernarda Alba, it was created leading up to the fascist regime and he was eventually killed by Franco’s forces.
But I’ve always enjoyed studying classic Spanish literature with the theories and analysis surrounding it. For example, writers like Miguel de Cervantes and Lope de Vega. I find it interesting how their symbolism operates within its own internal logic. I think you have to work within that framework, and that places you within an alternative mindset of your own to navigate.
Elena Njoabuzia Onwochei-Garcia, Las Dulcineas (front and back), 2024. Tempera and pastel on washi 239.7 x 78 cm. Photography by Elena Njoabuzia Onwochei-Garcia.
Speaking of Spanish plays, you do have Spanish heritage, is that correct? Do you feel that your heritage has shaped your approach to storytelling through art?
My heritage is Nigerian Igbo, German and Spanish: all of which have rich storytelling traditions. But, Identity is this thing where its facets will appear, submerge, and then resurface again, often, but not exclusively, in response to their changing atmosphere. Right now, Spanish has become more prominent in my response to. I think growing up around Latin films and the intense emotional drama you often find in Spanish cinema has been a significant influence.
In terms of perspective, I think it’s about understanding that there could be many different takes of an event and being wary of certainty. I’ve been reading Mariana Ortega’s ideas on the mestiza mentality which is being in a constant state of betweenness. I’ve heard comments about tension and discomfort in my work, and I think that position of discomfort exposes a lot of the power dynamics at play. In removing the spectator’s agency over the painting by making the painting the wall, I place them in a position that the most vulnerable are subjected to. Inhibiting how they move around the work, how close and far from it they can be.
“I’m interested in exposing the activity of creating and revealing that no image is pure, that all images come from somewhere else, colliding and suturing the meeting of different stories at a moment of tension.”
What is your research process behind a work like? Can you walk us through the typical stages?
“...Which mentality is best to help endure this reality? Is it by being an idealist or a realist?”
I try to avoid keeping my process the same, but I think there are patterns that have emerged. A series often begins when I’m grappling with something I don’t quite know how to respond to. For my latest one, I was considering how intense and ridiculous everything feels right now. Which provoked the question, which mentality is best to help endure this reality? Is it by being an idealist or a realist? From there I read, and read and read any material, philosophy, literature, pop culture that might offer insight.
A recent touchstone for example was, Don Quixote de la Mancha, where the two protagonists represent contrasting worldviews, Don Quixote being a symbol of the realist. Alongside that reading, I draw as constantly as I can, making hundreds of drawings and sketches from art history and pop culture. I then cut them out to play around collaging them. I often create the key characters first, not creating a likeness to their original characters but more expressions of the “psychological” environment that determines their actions and limits their agency. Turning their bodies into a myriad of symbols and gestures. For example, in one of the main paintings from my series At Court, the central figure has a tambourine inside their stomach—to evoke its anxiety, the unsteady and shaky sound [it produces from within]. The characters’ bodies are inflicted and restricted by these symbols.
Once the compositions are fixed, I draw them onto Washi. I then rip apart the paper, paint along the edges of each element, so you can see the construction of the image visible from the back. I’m interested in exposing the activity of creating and revealing that no image is pure, that all images come from somewhere else, colliding and suturing the meeting of different stories at a moment of tension. I’ve been reading on Walter Benjamin’s concept of fascination. It talks about ways of keeping the eye engaged, and I think about that a lot, allowing viewers access as another means of entering the work. So, all the structural qualities are expressed on the back of the painting. The painting’s front acts as an illusion, smoothing over and disguising everything the fabrication of the scene.
If you could create a piece of commentary that reflects the current state the world, what would it focus on?
My current work kind of touches on this (specifically the title) which references a time in Roman history, when Caesar’s rise to dictatorial power provoked people to take to the streets. This led to the public graffitiing of the walls with ‘Brutus, are you asleep?’. Brutus was the figurehead of democratic/republican values of the time, I believe. The work has a nightmarish tone, which connects to today, perhaps a new Cesarean era. It focuses on the fragility of the future. Recently, I have felt keenly a sense of responsibility for the next generation or a fear about what the future holds for them. It’s dark, but within that darkness, I think I’m trying to find a sort of strength that I want to hold in a painting.
“The work has a nightmarish tone, which connects to today, perhaps a new Cesarean era. It focuses on the fragility of the future. ”
In a dream scenario, which historical figures would you like to place your work in dialogue with?
Goya and Velázquez have been constant references. Max Beckmann’s work also draws me in, even though there’s something about it that pushes me away at the same time. I really resonate with the ambiguity of Paula Rego’s work and I’m fascinated by her technical skill and vivid imagination.
Where can we find you in 2025? Is there an interest to work in or exhibit at any specific locations?
I will be exhibiting a large body of my work in the Kunstverein Ludwigshafen in Germany’s exhibition program "Genius Loci: Notes of Places”, a series of exhibitions across different historic sites. I’m also going to be in a Greek residency with The Paddocks Gallery in May. And more details about the other projects to come! I get very excited by places that are not white cube because then you have this personality to react to and consider. In terms of locations, I’d love to do something in Spain at some point to respond to an architecture which has such a synthesis of influences at its core.
Note: This interview was conducted over video call and the transcription has been minimally edited for readability.
