Tracing over three decades of artistic inquiry, Otobong Nkanga’s practice weaves connections between land, body, and material, exploring how colour and texture carry the histories of extraction, belonging, and renewal.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
Presented at Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ traces more than three decades of Otobong Nkanga’s practice, from her early studies in colour and form to her recent large-scale installations. The exhibition brings together drawings, tapestries, photographs, and site-specific interventions that reveal how the artist’s deep engagement with material continues to shape her inquiry into land, extraction, and transformation.
Nkanga’s reflections on colour, texture, and process uncover how material carries memory, history, and politics. Clay, oil, and plant matter become agents of storytelling, mapping the complex relationships between people and their environments. Through each gesture of weaving, mixing, and layering, Nkanga invites viewers to contemplate what it means to live and create within an ever-shifting landscape.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
Stephan Rheeder: Your exhibition brings together early works, recent ones, photographs, drawings, and you are adding new elements in situ to some emblematic works. In what ways do you see the older works speaking to the latest works under this reactivation? What unexpected dialogues or tensions emerged when you intervened in your past pieces?
Otobong Nkanga: What is interesting with regard to this exhibition is that one of the oldest works here is the Colour Study of 1992, when I was at university in Ife. During that time, I worked a lot on making colour palettes — really delving into mixing colours across spectrums, from darker tones of red, green, and blue, to lighter shades. When I look at later works, such as the Unearthed tapestry series, I can see how those early studies continue to inform everything I do.
At the university, I learned to understand the nuances of colours — the range of yellows, for example — and how to balance proportions of colour across a piece. That one year of study has deeply influenced my practice. Even my early drawings shaped how I think about layering and structure; the needlework that entered those first works still exists in my current ones.
So when moving through this exhibition, you can see how the early pieces set the tone for what came after — how the works from 1992 connect directly to those made in 2021, 2022, and 2024.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
You often explore materials like minerals, soil, plants, textiles, ropes, ceramics, etc. When selecting materials for “I Dream of You in Colours”, how much does the material’s origin (locality, extraction history, ecological footprint) shape the form or meaning of the work? Can you give an example of a material you chose for its story rather than its aesthetic quality?
A lot of the works in this show are really about thinking through the materials themselves — even ceramics, and what it means to fire or inscribe in earth. In the work Carved to Flow, for example, I used oils from different parts of the world: olive oil from Greece, oils from the Middle East, West Africa, and North Africa.
When we think about these places — rich in resources yet often sites of turmoil — it’s impossible to separate material from politics. In the Middle East, olive trees that have stood for centuries are now being destroyed by war. The Nablus soap tradition, once sustained through generations, is disappearing. We can also think of Congo and other regions where extraction defines both wealth and suffering.
Materials are never empty; they contain histories, knowledge, and possibilities. In Carved to Flow, the soap represents a chain: the soil that grows the trees, the trees that produce oil, the oil that becomes the economy, and the knowledge passed through generations. Even charcoal — made by burning organic matter in the absence of oxygen — speaks to landscapes under stress. For me, steel, oil, and plants all hold stories of origin, transformation, and shifting meaning through time.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
The show traces recurring themes in your work: territory, land, mining or extraction, the body in relation to space, and memory. Could you describe how one of these themes has changed in your thinking over the years, especially in relation to global politics, climate crisis, or colonial legacies?
Over the years, these concerns have sharpened. The world is realising that what we took for granted in our landscapes isn’t eternal. I’ve always been preoccupied with land, material, and extraction — I come from a place where these are everyday realities. You grow up understanding limitations, seeing that some things are possible elsewhere but not where you are from.
As you move through the world, you realise that some places live in the future, while others haven’t yet reached it. Some are already in the climate crisis — floods, droughts, no electricity, disappearing farmlands — while others are just beginning to experience it.
Politically, too, I grew up in a time of dictatorship, and though we now call it democracy, it isn’t truly that. Meanwhile, other parts of the world are moving toward authoritarian politics. You recognise the signs; you’ve lived them. So it’s not about having a theme — it’s about existence. My preoccupations have stayed the same because they come from life itself. The work follows from that.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
The notion of “layers” is central in your description. Besides physical layers in materials or surfaces, how do you conceive of psychological, historical or social layers in your work? How do you imagine audiences moving through or uncovering those layers in this exhibition?
This idea isn’t directly addressed in the recording, but it runs through much of what I spoke about, especially when discussing colour, tapestry, and multiplicity. The works are constructed through physical layers and layers of meaning: material, emotional, historical, and social.
Later, when I talk about the poetic and political (see Q6), I describe my approach as one of strata — different levels that allow entry from multiple perspectives. So, while not explicit, the concept of “layers” is present in how I think about range, rhythm, and depth across every medium.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
Your practice often involves a kind of “entanglement” between human bodies, landscapes, histories of extraction and trade, and more abstract ideas like memory, relationality, and healing. How do you balance the poetic or affective dimension of your work with the political or ecological urgency it often conveys?
There are so many ways to look at the world — political, social, and emotional. For me, it’s about opening a dimension where things aren’t literal. You can approach from the poetics of things, from feeling, from empathy. Everything has the poetics, but also something political. It depends on which layer you’re working in.
I don’t set out to make something poetic or political — it’s more about engaging with life, language, and relationships between humans and other life forms. I explore the etymology of words and the meanings materials carry, to understand their power. That range of meaning allows the work to move between worlds — politics, poetics, social engagement, and history — all at once.
Installation view of ‘I dreamt of you in colours’ at MAM Paris. Photo: Pierre Antoine
Many of your works change when activated in new contexts or re‐exhibited with added elements. How do you decide what needs to be adapted for a new exhibition? What stays constant, what must transform?
With each exhibition, it’s about time and the non-tangible elements that shape perception — light, air, movement. Sometimes you adjust a work slightly so that light falls on it properly, or to change how air passes through the space. You adapt according to what the corners offer, how the works speak to each other, and the nature of the space itself.
It’s never a fixed formula or franchise. Each presentation depends on context — the curator, the budget, the scale, the dialogue between works. Sometimes the space invites expansion; other times, you have to reduce. Flexibility is key.
Still, the essence of the work remains constant. Every piece should hold its own power wherever it’s placed. When you walk into the exhibition, there’s no theatre — just the works themselves, asking to be seen, thought about, and questioned.
‘I dreamt of you in colours’ is on view at Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris until 22 February 2026. For more information, visit MAM Paris.
