OjuOponIfa

In the beginning of the nineties, when a group of young – perhaps fresh from school -- fine artists stepped out to the public in an exhibition titled Young Masters, they created more than a stir. They unsettled some seated posturing. Audaciously, they not only proclaimed that they were poised to offer fresh coating to the features of the gallery, which as co-notated in the subtext of their show, had grown stale; they also conferred status of ‘master on themselves’. Of course, they did not get away so easily with the audacity; they were named, labeled and critically pummeled, even as it was clear that since many of them were fresh from art school, they were driven in this mission, by the exuberant resourcefulness, enterprise and energy conventional to their age; and were merely responding to the dynamics of shifting paradigm in global art discourse at the time – this era was in the throe of post modernism debate, remember. The ‘freshers’ as they were described in one particular critiq

Why I Fired My Secretary It was my thirty-fifth birthday, and I wasn't feeling too hot that morning anyway. I went to breakfast knowing my wife would be pleasant and say ?Happy Birthday. And would probably have a present for me. She didn't even say ?Good Morning, Let alone any 'Happy Birthday' I thought. Well, that's wives for you. Maybe the children will remember. The children came in to breakfast and didn't say a word. When I started to the office I was feeling pretty low and despondent. As I walked into my office, my secretary, Janet , said, 'Good morning boss, Happy Birthday' So I felt a little better; Someone had remembered. I worked until noon. Then Janet knocked on my door and said 'You know it's such a beautiful day outside and it's your birthday. Let's go to lunch, just you and me. I told her that it was the best thing I've heard all day. 'Let's go'. We went to lunch. We didn't go where we normally go; We w