Shegun Oseh’s photographs do not merely depict; they interrogate. They are mirrors held up to both the self and society, reflecting shared human experiences through a singular alchemy of experimental techniques, aesthetic rigor, and the quiet weight of their messages.
Tradition and familial bonds recur throughout his work, but what lingers—what unsettles and provokes—is his choice of subjects, and the deliberate, almost surgical way he presents them to the viewer. Consider Shadows of My Past, a series of four images that function as visual haikus: sparse, enigmatic, and vibrating with implication.
Here, love is rendered in pixelated silhouettes, glimpsed through dim light and strategic obscurity. Oseh shows just enough—a clasp of hands, the brush of feet in greeting—and no more. The pixelation, far from being a mere stylistic tic, serves as a kind of erasure, stripping away the superfluous until only the idea remains. Hands Entwined in Prayer and Foot Touching in Greeting are titled with deceptive simplicity, their compositions equally restrained. They are not images so much as suggestions, visual metaphors for the unspoken rituals of human connection.
Oseh’s approach is, at its heart, deconstructionist. But where deconstruction in lesser hands might devolve into cold formalism, his work pulses with life. The pixels, the absence of detail, the deliberate withholding—these are not tricks but acts of distillation. What matters, he insists, is not the technical bravura of the image but the humanity it contains. And if that humanity can be conveyed in its rawest, most elemental form, as it is in Shadows of My Past, then the photograph has done its work.
It brings to mind Jung’s shadow self—the part of us that operates beneath the surface, governed by instinct rather than intention. The conscious mind deliberates; the shadow acts. Oseh’s photographs operate in much the same way. Where conventional photography might drown the viewer in detail, his work pares it all away, leaving only the primal essence: a gesture, a contrast, a suggestion. There is no room for misinterpretation because there is nothing to misinterpret—only what the viewer brings to it.
This preoccupation with the fundamentals extend to Oseh’s meditation on time. In Time Will Tell, he places a young hand beside an old one, their fingers interlaced. “One smooth with youth,” he writes in his artist’s statement, “the other weathered with years. The old hand, lined with stories, has held laughter, sorrow, and resilience. The young hand, eager and unmarked, holds dreams yet to unfold.” The image is a memento mori and a promise, all at once.
He pushes the idea further in 3 Generations, a photograph of a grandmother braiding her daughter’s hair while the daughter, in turn, braids her own child’s. The granddaughter, not yet initiated into the full ritual, practices on a doll. The composition is a study in recursion, a visual echo of how tradition is passed down—not through grand proclamations but through these small, intimate acts of mimicry.
Oseh’s palette is predominantly monochrome, though when color does appear, it is muted, warm, almost nostalgic. Backgrounds dissolve into soft focus; the figures, even when partially pixelated, remain the sole anchor. There is a hierarchy to his compositions, a deliberate orchestration of attention.
His is an art of economy, where every omission is as calculated as what remains. It is no surprise, then, that his work has found homes in galleries from Palma to Dubai—Casa del Arte, Boomer Gallery, Fox Yard Studio, Artexpo New York, Andakulova among them. But the true test of Oseh’s photographs is not where they hang, but what they stir in those who pause to look. They are, in the end, less about seeing than about recognizing.
Oyedele Alokan is passionate about culture and the arts. He uses his thoughts on artworks to draw attention to larger socio-economic phenomenon. He’s an editor at TheBlotted.com
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