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Louise Thomas
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On a bustling street in London’s affluent Fitzrovia, a new gallery has set itself a challenge: to represent the underrepresented. From Venezuela to Nigeria, Tanzania to Colchester, gifted artists from across the globe are seeing their work hung in Hope 93, which opened its doors this month.
“I love an underdog,” said Aki Abiola, the ex-banker and art aficionado behind Hope 93. “I wanted to create somewhere where people can feel like they belong.”
The idea for the gallery came after Abiola spent five years on the Tate’s acquisition committee, where he advised the group on which underrepresented African artists to put on display.
“I really didn’t like the lack of inclusivity in the art world,” he said. “I wanted to do something different – with people from all backgrounds.”
Hope 93’s first group show brings together work by 12 diverse artists. There are monochromatic portraits of Black women by the self-taught Tanzanian painter Sungi Mlengeya. Nearby, honey-toned Yoruba figures emerge from Renaissance-inspired foliage in Celestial Bodies by Tunji Adeniyi-Jones, whose work represented Nigeria at this year’s Venice Biennale.
Not far away hangs a figurative oil painting by 25-year-old Emily Gillbanks from Colchester, who was the youngest person to complete her MA from the Royal College of Art in London. “I’m sure she’ll have her first solo exhibition soon,” Abioa added.
“This isn’t a charity,” he added. “You can see the talent hanging on the walls. It’s just typically I tend to look after female or minority artists.”
At the end of the gallery’s entrance room hangs 48 individual thickly painted white flowers on a rainbow of backgrounds by the Haitian-American artist Guy Stanley Philoche, for sale at $1000 each. “It’s a beautiful message behind his work [Give Us Our Flowers] about showing appreciation, giving people their flowers, while they’re still alive,” said Abiola.
He added of the cost: “Fine art is expensive. So, I wanted to have some accessible price points. We also have paintings that are £350.”
Price aside, walking into fine art galleries can feel frightening. “If you don’t have pedigree, it’s intimidating. I still feel nervous walking into those spaces” explained Abiola in the gallery’s lounge room complete with a sofa, record player and more of Philoche’s flower adorned works. “I want Hope 93 to be known for having incredible art on the wall and also having a lot of fun. Diverse. Open. I want people to sit down and ask questions without feeling embarrassed.”
Hope 93’s basement floor is entirely dedicated to Brian De Jesus’ debut solo exhibition, filled with large abstract oil paintings that are inspired by Venezuelan party music and are caked in concrete. “Brian, by his own admission, is from the ‘ghettos of Venezuela’” Abiola said. “No one had ever shown his work before and he’s got this incredible work ethic where he wakes up, paints until the afternoon, then jumps on a delivery bike to Deliveroo for the rest of the day. Discipline. And look at this body of work.”
When Abiola walked into De Jesus’ studio and asked him what was available, the painter laughed. “He said ‘Aki everything is available,’” the gallery owner recalled. “‘No one has ever bought my work.’”
As Hope 93 opened its doors to the public, Abiola accidentally invited around 400 people to the launch party. In the basement, sat a DJ booth, dozens of pairs of raver sunglasses and a well-stocked bar designed by De Jesus’ ready and waiting. As with the artists on the walls – everybody was invited.
“I want people to visit and want to come back,” said Abiola of his aspirations for Hope 93. “Art is very personal. There are no right or wrong answers. But what I want people to take away from here is that art is for them.”
