In 2022, two wooden sculptures stood on the riverbanks of Brooklyn. Configured as bodies with multiple heads, the monumental works – part of a larger group titled Agali Awamu, which translates as “Togetherness” – towered over those who interacted with them. They appeared as an antidote to the silver, white or green reflective buildings that stood behind them: hand-carved and human-like, with mouths that appeared to be singing or whistling, and eyes barely open, perhaps to signify a joyous introspection. While one was made up of two bodies conjoined at the hip, the other had billowing hair and carried faces on its back and belly, which seemed to be singing in harmony. The sculptures looked peaceful, and protective of each other and of those who walked past them.
From far away these figures, created by the Ugandan-born, New York-based artist Leilah Babirye, looked regal. They stood tall, adorned with glistening belts and jewellery. But up close, you noticed that their ornaments were made up of rusty chains, old wire, used bolts and bicycle parts – objects once discarded, deemed as meaningless, but whose beauty had been noticed by the artist. She reused them for a celebratory monument of power and protection.
