Kambui Olujimi: Zulu Time exhibition catalog

36, 37:
Christmas Bus,
from Killing Time
38–39:
Litmus Test,
from Killing Time
This page and facing:
Solitaire,
from Killing Time
44, 45:
Never Adds Up,
from Killing Time
when the normal rules, values, hierarchies, and modes of apprehension
are temporarily suspended in favor of a new and radical freedom.
This freedom can be simultaneously bewildering and illuminating,
unsteadying and exhilarating. For Bakhtin, the carnivalized situation
“… combines the sacred with the profane, the lofty with the low, the
great with the insignificant, the wise with the stupid.” It involves a
decisive upending of normal life with all its rules, categories, hierarchies,
and stratification. Bakhtin called this “life drawn out of its usual
rut” and “life turned inside out.” I’m not suggesting that Olujimi is
beholden to Bakhtin, but rather that what Bakhtin might have called a
“carnival impulse”—involving eccentricity, disruption, fresh identities,
an elevation of humble things, a humbling of powerful things, and
vigorous transformation—is essential in Olujimi’s work, and indeed is
a major reason why his artworks are so unusual and cathartic.
As humans pursued ever more advanced rockets for space
exploration, satellite transportation, and sophisticated weaponry,
technological marvels have been attended by whopping failures, when
rockets and missiles ignited into chaotic infernos. Images of these
events are commonplace in the popular culture. For his wall installation
consisting of flags from his T-Minus Ø series (2017), Olujimi
selected Internet images of exploded rockets, with all their flash points
and fireballs, hurtling debris and oddly delicate smoke tendrils. He
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