All around Amina,
Brittle bones broke. 
She saw cartilages crushed cruelly; War, she realized, was wickedness wrought. 
Terror tore through throats.

Then, suddenly, a sharp silence.
Sermons, speeches, sanctimonious sayings of let us be patient.
Amina alive, but barely.
Checked clothes, curtains, fabrics, currently coated crimson.
Darkness draped over doors.
It was over.

Peace, present finally, after pressure, pleas, and prayers.
Exhausted exhalations escaped her lips.

Battles, she had been told, were for brave boys.
But.
She stared upwards, saw shadowed skies. Small stars.
She realized saving her family, saving herself, was a process that didn’t ask:

What is your gender?

Subscribe now

We existed in a bubble. I guess that was why it was beautiful, the heart aching fragility of it all. Everything was an almost. We almost weren’t, and in the same breath, we almost were.

I open my eyes and there are china plates breaking all around me.

I stare straight ahead. The pieces fly in all directions, suspended in slow motion.

It is absolute chaos: the sharp, cracking sounds, the flying shards.

I feel untethered, yet a grin tugs at my mouth, my chin lifts, and a laugh escapes my ribs.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” a voice had asked.

In the space where a drizzle becomes a downpour, I am running.

Raindrops strike my bare arms, my face, some trapped like weight between my eyelashes.

I laugh and look back, tugging the palm nestled closely in mine, watching a matching grin stretch across your lips.

“We are all gathered,” the priest says in a solemn tone, “to witness the joining…”

His voice fades into a drone. I can’t take my eyes off your face. Your smile is warm, besotted, entirely in love.

Then the crowd shifts into my line of sight.

I black out.

When next I come to, I am standing among other bodies, my arms outstretched, raised upward.

The wedding song is playing. The newlyweds are mumbling sweet nothings to each other.

I close my eyes to the sight, force my bones to move, and then,

I dance.

Subscribe now

A Note from the Studio

I used to share short stories like this exclusively on my Instagram Stories which we know is fleeting. But I wanted a space for permanence. A place where these words could stay on a digital wall rather than disappear in twenty-four hours.

To clarify: this piece isn’t based on my own life. It’s a glimpse my mind took into the life of someone else, a sudden window into a stranger’s heavy moment.

Wherever they are now... I find myself wondering if they are doing okay.

Basheera Ohuni Abdulsalam

Visual Artist, Writer, Dreamer.

Basheera Abdulsalam’s studio challenge is this, don’t think too much, let the brush do some of the talking.

I randomly met a type of weight that seems to sit on my chest, way before I reach for my journal, pencils to sketch, or even before the brush touches the surface. It’s the kind of feeling that stays secret, silent, wordless and heavy, until a brush finally finds it.

I now realize that some feelings don’t need or want advice. They don’t need to be analyzed, solved, or talked through. They just want a canvas to be expressed through movement, a painting, or a sketch. No long speeches necessary.

Sometimes I don’t know what I’m trying to say until the colors start speaking for me.

This face wasn’t planned. I didn’t set out with a blueprint for these eyes or the shape of the shadow. But the feeling? The feeling was entirely planned. It emerged as a face that says an emotion my heart instantly recognizes without needing an explanation.

This is why I paint. To give form to the spaces inside me, and to let the canvas speak when words seem to not be enough.

Is there a feeling you’ve carried recently that couldn’t quite find its words?

set it free.

write, sketch, paint, draw, make something.

Abi Ocia’s Offering, and Running are art in song form btw. goosebumps<3

Subscribe now

Traditional portraiture tells you exactly where to look. It demands that you meet the eyes, read the expression, and decode the exact identity of the person on the canvas. But with my Her Grace series, I wanted to try something completely different.

By obscuring the faces, turning a figure away, casting a profile into deep shadow, or letting form dissolve into color, the paintings stop being about a specific, single person and instead become an open space for the viewer's own emotions, the painting becomes an open mirror for your own inner life.

When I paint a clear face, I tell you exactly who someone is. When I turn them away or cast them in shadow, I’m asking you who you are.

Part I: The Spine and the “Old Brag of the Heart”

For the first piece in this series, I found myself returning to a beautiful line by Sylvia Plath: “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”

When you look at this composition, your eyes are immediately drawn to the sharp contrasts. There are deep, uncompromising shadows set against a brilliant crimson fabric that trails down the form, punctuated by a sharp, geometric silver earring that catches the light.

This image is about raw, undeniable posture and presence. We carry our strength, our history, and our literal posture in the spine. By focusing on the back and the slope of the shoulder rather than a facial expression, the piece embodies that quiet, interior realization of simply existing, the steady, rhythmic “I am.”

Subscribe now

Part II: Her pull, is it magnetism?

In the second piece, the atmosphere shifts completely. The background burns with a warm, blazing ochre, while the figure’s face is entirely blocked out in dense shadow, turning her hair and head into a monolithic, crown-like silhouette.

This work captures the internal weight and gravity of the feminine essence, drawing on the heavy pull of the moon and ocean tides. She doesn’t need a facial expression to communicate with you. The heavy texture of the brushstrokes and the ambient heat of the background carry a quiet, burning power, one that feels entirely self-contained and holds no obligation to explain itself to anyone.

Part III: The Ebb and Flow of Surrender

The final piece is the one that seemed to make everyone stop and comment when I first shared glimpses of it, and it brought to mind Maya Angelou’s words: “...through the ebb and flow of the turning tide.”

This is the most minimalist and abstract composition of the three. The figure is rendered as a soft, lavender-pink form, completely surrendered to a bleeding, heavily textured crimson atmosphere.

I think this piece has this pull because it represents the ultimate moment of surrender. She isn’t fighting the tide; she is moving with it, almost dissolving into her environment. It resonates because it strips away all the visual noise of the world, leaving nothing but pure form, mood, and color harmony.

Leave a comment

Bringing it Back to the Studio

As I sat with my laptop, moving my fingers over the trackpad and layering tones, I was reading this poetry. The words and the digital brushstrokes began to gist with one another in real-time. One piece spoke to the next, the themes of vulnerability and presence moving across the screen and each idea, until these three distinct figures stood together under the umbrella of Her Grace.

Living and working in Zaria heavily influences the way I handle space. The architectural forms around me, the way the sun hits earth-toned walls, the deep, geometric shadows cast by the afternoon heat, and the quiet stillness found amidst a vibrant cultural landscape, sometimes informs the “breathing room” in these paintings. The negative space surrounding these isolated figures is heavy with the atmosphere of my environment.

The digital space simply allowed me the fluid freedom to let these pieces grow, shift, and find each other organically. But whether painted on a screen or on a canvas, the emotional weight, the meticulous layering of color, and the rhythmic marks come from the exact same human heart.

I often get asked about how my digital work relates to what happens on a physical canvas. Even though these pieces were painted digitally, the emotional inspiration and artistic approach come from the exact same language I use when working with physical mediums. The digital space allows for a distinct kind of atmospheric experimentation, but the feel behind the paintings remains identical.

These paintings were inspired by lines from poems that made me pause, stop, and close my eyes.

“Each and every day, some of us make our way, through the ebb and flow of the turning tide”. Maya Angelou and “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.” Sylvia Plath

I wonder if someone sees it too, the interconnectedness of all of these, the women as muses, the colours, the poetry, the weight, the meaning, some imagery that needs an unforgettable experience to unveil.

I’m really glad i made these. I’d love to hear how you interpret these moments. Which of these figures do you see yourself in the most? the vulnerable view of the crimson dressed woman, the warmth of the second woman in silhouette, or the almost abstract last piece. which speaks most clearly to where you are in your own journey right now?

Let me know in the comments, email or leave a comment below. I love hearing the stories you project onto the canvas. <3

Subscribe so you don’t miss my next post.<3

Nearly a year ago, I packed up my brushes, my canvas, and my thoughts and traveled to Abuja for Caustival.

Looking back at it now, my heart feels just as warm and full as it did the weekend of the festival. Navigating a city I’m not so used to was daunting. By the time the festival reached its peak, I was completely exhausted, (normal thing for introverts) so much so that I had to skip the rave just to find my grounding and make my way back to where I was staying.

But looking at the photos now, I realize the energy of that space matched exactly what I was trying to capture on canvas.

Caustival was centered around the theme “Vybrant.” For me, vibrancy isn’t just about loud colors or surface-level brightness. True vibrancy is found in the spirit of people who push for collective progress. That kind of energy has to be bold. It has to be deep. It has to be deeply personal.

The short films selected for the program were incredibly thought-provoking, the exhibition space was brilliant, and the artworks by the other artists were amazing. But what truly anchored me was the people.

The Weight of “Should”

The first piece I brought to life for the show is titled “Breakthrough Again”.

It shows a central figure emerging from a torn, heavy red landscape, set against an airy sky filled with floating, lined clouds. Across that red boundary, I wrote out the constraints that society constantly hands down: “As a woman you should…”, “Women shouldn’t wear…”, “Young girls should prioritize…”

During the exhibition, someone came up to me and asked about those “shoulds.”

I remember looking at them and saying, “Women everywhere are tired of that word.” It got a laugh from the crowd in the moment, but it’s a truth I hope stayed with them long after they left the exhibition space. Breakthroughs and freedom are mutually dependent on each other. To get to the blue sky, you have to rip through the horizon of what people tell you you’re allowed to be, remove and separate yourself from the norm that stifles you.

Subscribe now

Collective Resonance

The sister piece to the first piece is “Speak Up”.

Progress isn’t quiet at all, and it doesn’t happen in isolation. This painting captures that electric, surging collective energy, showing figures cloaked in deep, saturated red pushing upward against a striking blue sky, their fists and voices raised. women and men, old and young, all agreeing with one voice that they deserve better

It’s almost a year later, I remember these two pieces hanging side by side in that Abuja gallery, I realize how valid and relevant these conversations still are. The things we spoke on during those exhibition talks haven’t faded. If anything, the necessity to speak up has only grown.

A Warm Space

To everyone who took time out to attend, support, and encourage me, people who knew why this was important, thank you. Seeing people experience the work alongside me, feeling the warmth of the community in a city that felt unfamiliar at first but later became fun and memorable, was deeply heartwarming.

Progress demands our voice, but it also demands a community to hear it. Thank you for being part of mine. <3

If these voices resonates with you, let up keep the conversation alive. Leave your thoughts below, and walk into this studio space with me by subscribing.

Let’s all see what boundaries we can tear through next.

Stay Brave *

If you are reading this, it means you have supported my journey as a contemporary visual artist, welcome <3. You’ve followed up with my studio updates, saw my canvases at exhibitions, or just shared some moments with the poetry and art I post on my Instagram stories.

I’ve built this space because Instagram grids are too fleeting for the stories behind the art. Here, I want to take you deeper into my studio, my notebooks, and the fluid, sometimes very soft and unhurried world where my pieces come to life.

To begin, I want to talk about a piece that created a very specific magic for me: Mysteries of her gaze (ii).

Leaning Into the Flow

As an artist, I am drawn to emotion. a curiosity that seems to holds me by the neck seeks me out and I find myself constantly looking for the visuality of dreams, identity, and vulnerability. When I began working on this watercolor series, I was looking for a medium that could match the shifting, intangible nature of our internal feelings. I feel like I found it.

With watercolor, you have to collaborate with the water. You guide the pigment, but ultimately, it moves where it wants to. In Mysteries of her gaze (ii), those cool, translucent washes of cerulean and moss green were allowed to pool and breathe on the paper, creating a feel of weightlessness. I then layered fine, rhythmic ink lines over the washes, mapping out the architecture of her face.

This series became a dedicated exploration of the magic that makes the woman such a magnificent muse. It is an attempt to showcase that subtle, yet powerful thing within her beauty that holds our interest, renders us speechless, and completely enthralls us.

The Ghost of Someone You Know

(close-up shot of the watercolor painting titled Mysteries of her Gaze (ii) )

This painting has carried a fascinating life of its own outside the studio. It was first exhibited publicly in Abuja, as part of an incredible, all-female group exhibition by LEORANG titled “For her eyes only”. Standing in a gallery and watching people interact with your vulnerabilities is always an intense experience, but this piece brought forward an interesting phenomenon.

On two entirely separate occasions, viewers walked up to it, paused, and insisted that the portrait looked exactly like someone they knew in real life.

I love that. The woman in the painting wasn’t rendered from a specific, single living model; she was born from an emotional headspace. Yet, through the fluid, impressionistic nature of watercolor, viewers projected their own memories, their own loved ones, and their own histories onto her features. She became a mirror.

The Fine Details

• Title: Mysteries of her gaze (ii)

• Medium: Watercolor and ink on premium archival paper

• Dimensions: 11.5 x 16 inches

• Year: 2021

(Photograph of watercolor painting titled “Mysteries of her Gaze” (ii) )

Acquisition & Direct Collector Access

Because my goal for this space is to build a closer relationship with those who value my practice, subscribers here will always get primary, early access to original works before they are listed on global marketplaces like Saatchi Art.

Mysteries of her gaze (ii) is an original painting and is currently available for national or international acquisition. If her gaze strikes a chord of familiarity in you, or if you would like to discuss adding this piece to your private collection, you can reply directly to this email or reach out through my contact profile.

What Moved Me This Week

Before I close this first chapter, I want to dedicate a corner to the community. Here is a piece of writing by another independent creator that completely captured my mind this week:

What I will also say is that women are magicians. I don't mean magic like the kind you were warned to avoid, I mean magic as in spinning story as lifeline, as in turning a wound into a star, as in holding an apocalypse in your core and smiling believably -Eloghosa Osunde in Vagabonds.

Thank you for stepping into the studio with me today. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below: Does her face remind you of someone you’ve met before?

With love and a reminder to “dream with eyes wide open”.

Basheera