There was a time when men didn’t speak often but when they did, the earth leaned in.

When the Word Dripped from His Mouth is not just a painting. It is a visual chant, a moment frozen in sacred transmission. In this piece, i wanted to channel the weight of oral tradition and ancestral memory, drawn from his Esan heritage and the influence of my grandfather, Chief Umobuarie.

Rendered in silhouette, two figures occupy the canvas, one speaking, one receiving. The man’s mouth glows with soft golden-red drips: not paint, but wisdom passed down like palm wine from elder to heir. His words are not loud, but they carry the gravity of lineage, of names, of night-time storytelling beneath the stars.

This work captures a pivotal exchange, the kind of moment that shapes identity but cannot be written down. The woman doesn’t interrupt. She listens with more than ears. Her posture reflects reverence, and the energy that passes between them becomes visible in pattern, form, and spirit.