Hallucinations Painting

Born Benard Mwangi Githinji, in 1995, I grew up in a village nearby Nakuru, where mythical fireside stories, old newspapers, dog-eared storybooks, and a boundless imagination were my gateways to adventure. It could be said that my choice of a black canvas and pastels is rooted in my childhood. My mother was a teacher, and we lived within the school compound. After the classrooms had emptied and the day had quieted, I would sneak back inside with a few chalk sticks pilfered from my mother’s stash. The chalkboard became my first canvas—a vast, dark surface where I could let my imagination run wild. Those early moments of creation, with nothing but chalk and a boundless mind, continue to influence my artistic approach today. I began my formal art education at Buruburu Institute of Fine Arts in 2015, but was unable to complete the diploma due to financial constraints. Undeterred, I committed myself to years of independent exploration, refining my craft through relentless experimentation. Now, I work from my studio in the heart of Kikuyu town, just outside Nairobi. Perched on the third floor of a residential apartment, my space overlooks a lush forest teeming with birds and insects. Among the many creatures, the paper wasp stands out—persistent and bold, often attempting to claim my studio as its own. My earliest encounter with one left a sting on my earlobe when I was a child, a memory that lingers. These days, I’ve found that hanging garlic cloves by the window is an effective and eco-friendly deterrent. My studio is called Studio 1.6, a name inspired by the Fibonacci golden ratio—a nod to the harmony and balance I strive for in my work. It’s more than a workspace; it’s a sanctuary. Here, I paint, learn, reflect, and occasionally laugh with my manager, while fending off the occasional paper wasp. My art is rooted in a rich tapestry of African stories, world philosophies, and the influence of great artists from the past and present. It is a mirror to the complexities of the human spirit, unearthing the emotions we suppress and the untamed thoughts we dare not speak aloud. Vulnerability is at the heart of my work—exploring the fragility of our inner child and exposing the raw, unfiltered state of being. My canvases are fragments of us all, meant to be hung, observed, and discussed—whether in whispers or critical tones. Through a fusion of human anatomy, expressive lines, and fluid curves, my paintings delve into the essence of the human experience.