In conversation with Lucille Junkere: On design and ancestry
What facilitates reconnection? Curiosity and openness are two words that came to mind whilst I spoke to Lucille Junkere, an artist, educator and textiles researcher specialising in plant colours and embroidery. Our conversation touched on ancestral wisdom, the language of indigo dye and identity. Whilst listening to Lucille speak about her craft and how it has presented many opportunities to strengthen her connection to her African ancestry I was reminded of the importance of creating space to listen and share narratives, which can aid the process of better understanding lived experiences of people within the African continent and wider diaspora.
What initially sparked your interest in indigo dye, more specifically the Adire cloth?
I knew about Indigo dye from school through learning about people like William Morris, a British textile designer. However, I also did my own research and learned about an African tradition of indigo dye. Around the age of 20 I started a degree in London and worked a couple of part-time jobs. I didn’t have much money, but I remember going to Brixton Market and met this Yoruba woman who was selling Adire cloth. At the time I didn’t know that it was Adire, but I was drawn to it. I had never seen anything like it. In spite of my meagre budget I knew I just had to have a cloth, so I bought it. I knew that it was hand-dyed, but I didn’t know much about it. It was years later that I discovered that it was a stencil cloth from Abeokuta, Nigeria.
When I decided to spend more time on my creative practice I started researching more about natural dyes. I particularly wanted to reconnect with something that made sense to me in terms of an intuitive connection, and that is what Adire is for me. For those of us in the African diaspora it can be difficult to know our specific African identity. We can use DNA testing, but it is particularly challenging because of the work that was done to severe the links to ancestral connection. Many of us, including me, have found the courage, strength and peace to just follow an intuitive connection. The strength of colour in the Adire cloth, the meaning of the patterns all means something to me, so I follow that path.
Has your work as an artist helped you in fostering a closer connection to your African ancestry?
Most definitely. A few years ago, I secured a Winston Churchill Travel fellowship to learn more about the Adire cloth from artists based in Abeokuta and share my practice with them in exchange. Before I went one of my Yoruba friends in London was teaching me a bit of Yoruba. It was important for me to know how to communicate in the indigenous language that might have been my language. My fellowship was very much outside of the traditional way of a Western person coming to do fieldwork and document without really feeling personally connected. I am guided by the Yoruba approach to indigo dye, even though I incorporate my own techniques. My visit was centred around collaborating and sharing ideas with the artists and wider communities.
Can you talk about your experience doing fieldwork in Yorubaland?
Whilst I was there, I was referred to as Oyibo (white person/foreigner) by some of the people, which bothered me. When I arrived, I wasn’t expecting some fantastic moment where people would clap to welcome me home and claim me as Yoruba, but people went outside of their way to make me feel like an outsider. That’s how I was treated most of my life in the UK, so it bothered me to experience that. For some people to mock me because they thought that I don’t know my African identity was so inappropriate and disrespectful, compassion is needed.
At one point I got fed up with being referred to as Oyibo, so I used my Yoruba knowledge to tell a woman off. She replied to me in English and asked, “If I can’t call you Oyibo, what must I call you?”, we ended up having a conversation about it. I shared with her how I felt, as a person from the diaspora, to be treated as an outsider. All I ask from people in the continent is just for them to have an ounce of understanding about what has happened. My fieldwork not only offered an opportunity to reconnect through cloth but also an opportunity to discuss our shared experience of what happened on the other side.
I think that knowledge transfer is a key issue (between and within the African diaspora and continent). During your participation on the Forum, you spoke of a breakdown in knowledge transfer regarding the Adire cloth in Jamaica – Have you seen an increase in interests as a result of your work?
Definitely. I do a lot of talks and workshops but there is only so much that one person can do. There are lots of people connecting through different creative practices, which has helped to keep that African retention. Though, this is not through cloth making. This is the second year that I am in Jamaica through a Leverhulme Fellowship grant, it will be more practical and will include more activities. I felt that we need to start with design first by exploring the language of patterns before touching on the process of dye. There is a lot more interest which is a bit overwhelming at times. I am trying to find the best ways to share knowledge about the Adire cloth with people.
Can you talk about the story behind your work ‘The Yoruba Blues’?
There’s a place in Jamaica called Abeokuta, it was given its name after slavery was abolished by Yoruba indentured workers that arrived on the Island to work on plantations. The Yoruba Blues is my response to my Travel Fellowship in Nigeria. The work has exhibited in the UK and at the National Gallery of Jamaica to pay tribute to the Yoruba presence in Jamaica. Some of the metal work here in Jamaica reminds me of patterns that I have seen in Yorubaland. I have been sketching these patterns for years and I have turned them into patterns that might appear around a neckline.
After the abolishment of slavery, the attitudes, racism and treatment of former enslaved Africans and their descendants didn’t change much. This was also the case for indentured workers, who were still brutalised. I think that it is remarkable that they still held onto their identity. My work pays a quiet tribute to this. I incorporated indigo, because it is a strong part of my practice and hand-made cotton paper, because of the connection to the cotton plantations. However, it is not about staying in the misery of slavery, more so reconnecting to communities in different spaces through a title. A celebration of the connection between the two spaces.
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All images published with permission.