90 Days In

“Within me is possibility, and I will spend my years trying to make sure that Thought becomes Matter.”

It has taken me 90 days to process what this year is beginning to look like. Every time I tried to write my thoughts, I was met with a block. This year, more than ever before, the weight of doing things intentionally has sat heavily on me.

December rolled by, and I remember sitting in the store of my phone vendor in Computer Village in the final hours of 2025, making one last purchase before the year closed. I was changing my phone. Those who know me know it is almost a yearly ritual, but this time felt different. More than just scratching an itch, I was getting this phone because I wanted to get serious about filming this year. So there I was, using all the money in my account to get a new device, and at the back of my mind was one thought: I do not want to get to 31st December 2026 and not have anything to show for it.

For the first time, I really felt within me the possibility of stewarding all my gifts and finally putting structure to my life and my work.

Should this be an update letter? I do not know. But if you have followed my work, you know that when I write, it usually means I have a lot to empty out. So brace yourself, because the letters may come in quick succession. But let me begin here:

How are you?

How were January, February, and March? In the midst of all the chaos and all the grim news, I want to ask, like my friend Kingie does, how is your heart? I think it is increasingly becoming our responsibility to find the pockets of sunshine that still exist in our currently bleak sky. In another letter, I will share how I have stayed sane. But for now, let me get into my thoughts.

January began, and I geared up to do a lot with my job. I had only started at the end of November 2025, and even though I questioned myself, I decided that this year I was going to get out of my head and commit fully to my duty. After all, I had prayed for such an opportunity, and I was going to show that I was valuable.

I love my job, or should i say loved?.
Sikeeeee. I am already speaking in past tense.

I never really gave full context for what I did, so let me do that briefly here, but be rest assured that i will dedicate a letter sharing my experience with it. I was Programs Lead for a contemporary art space in Lagos, tasked with creating community-based initiatives that would place them at the center of conversations around thoughtful art events and programming. And even though, barely a month into the job, I had already identified certain red flags, I decided to stay for two reasons. First, I wanted to really give it a chance. Second, I believed I had the opportunity to cause real change in the art ecosystem.

So it became easy to wake up every morning and wait for my Shuttlers, on an empty stomach and with a bleeding bank account, because I had stopped focusing on my business as a photographer. Commitment is something I take seriously, and my thinking was simple: as long as I was there, I would do everything within my power to give my all.

So, from ideating artist talks to film screenings and poetry evenings, I was doing the brain work. And my joy would be full every evening a program went successfully, even if I would most likely come home tired, hungry, and end up retired to the corner of my parlor floor, which has become my favorite corner of the house.

I did all of this while still trying to show up for my own audience. I still coordinated personal projects, covered weddings, and held community events for myself in February. At the beginning of March, I showed at my first art fair of the year, the +234 Art Fair. And sincerely, three months in, this year has demanded something of me in every breath. Good and bad. Exciting and draining. I have held duty and delight in the same scale. But as I sit here writing this letter, after spending the entirety of last week slowing down, I can finally say this:

I can breathe again.

I had my friend come over from Port Harcourt, and we went to a few places. It was good to have some company. And when I look back now, I can beat my chest and say that I laid a solid foundation. I dared to actually do different things and do things differently, if you get what I mean. The first three months taught me something, and in the subsequent letters I will try to fully extrapolate those lessons. But for now, here are a few thoughts I had penned down in my notes while I was still trying to form language around what I was feeling.

When I think of myself in relation to all the things I have done in the past decade, I do not know if I can fully answer the question, what do you want for yourself? I genuinely believe I am still in process, and while to most people that process may look refined, it still feels shapeless within me sometimes. I have been many things and one thing at the same time. I have been a writer, photographer, filmmaker, and cultural convener at different points, but at all times I have been someone who consistently shows up as a creator at every opportunity.

And I think that for a while I was bothered by the question of how to show people the different things I do. That question created friction within me. The result was that I stayed constantly in my head, and the ripple effect of that was that I did not share as much as I should have.

I think it is an incredibly brave thing to get to a point in your journey where you are capable of reengineering yourself and trying something new. I do not think success in itself is a variable we can fully control. What we can control, however, is our evolution — how we allow time to change us in relation to the things we hope to do and become. It is an incredibly brave thing to say to yourself: within me is possibility, and I will spend my years trying to make sure that thought becomes matter. It is an incredibly brave thing, I tell you.

And something I am learning in this season is that a large part of success first begins with vehemently believing that you are valuable. What I have struggled with the most in these first three months is sharing. I did the work, but I got stuck trying to curate the perfect presentation of it. Somewhere along the line, I became more concerned with how it would be received than with the simple act of letting it live.

And I remember one evening on my way home, saying to myself: the problem a lot of us have is that we are stuck in an endless loop of trying to create the perfect avatar. We have grown so used to the high standards of production as a result of the service we render to others, that we forget that, when building a personal brand, people do not only connect to results, they connect to process too.

So that is what I am carrying into the next quarter of this year: a willingness to be seen in the middle of becoming. A willingness to share before everything feels complete. A willingness to trust that process, too, is worthy of witness.

And if you are stuck in the same dilemma, let this be your nudge to get out of your head. You, your work, and your voice are needed now. Create more than you consume. More than you compare. More than you criticize.

As my favorite, Nneka Julia, said