NIGERIAN ART…

NIGERIAN ART…

WOW! What a rare talent…

Oresegun Olumide is another raw talent
Nigeria has
– The uncelebrated artist’s works of art can
compete with any in the world
– He graduated with a distinction from
Yaba College of Technology
Oresegun Olumide
Oresegun Olumide is one genius of an artist
to have come from Nigeria. The 2006
graduate of Yaba College of Technology,
Lagos graduated with a distinction. He
studied painting from the department of
Fine Art.
Olumide disclosed to journalists that he set
up his personal studio Reality Edge Studio in
Ikorodu since he graduated.
He works
mostly with oil on canvass.
With his special brush, Olumide breathes life
to work of arts. Born into the prestigious
Balogun Kuku clan of Ijebu Ode, Olumide
disclosed while he does paintings with water
falling off his characters.
Olumide said: “Everybody loves water but
many do not think of appreciating water.
Every day, everybody touches water but
nobody thinks of creating something about
water. That was the challenge I took and
decided to do series of water on the body

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PHOBIA

  DID U KNOW
Achluophobia- Fear of darkness.
Acousticophobia- Fear of noise.
Acrophobia- Fear of heights.
Aerophobia- Fear of drafts, air swallowing, or
airbourne noxious substances.
Aeroacrophobia- Fear of open high places.
Aeronausiphobia- Fear of vomiting secondary to
airsickness.
Agateophobia- Fear of insanity.
Agliophobia- Fear of pain.
Agoraphobia- Fear of open spaces or of being in
crowded, public places like markets. Fear of
leaving a safe place.
Agraphobia- Fear of sexual abuse.
Agrizoophobia- Fear of wild animals.

What’s in a name?

Heather Matarazzo

This is not a typical blog piece, though nothing about me is typical, so it fits appropriately.

I have been hesitant to write anything about my life that is deeply personal, because that requires an incredible willingness on behalf of the writer to be vulnerable and honest. However, I am always up for a challenge.

I’m 9 or 10 years old. I’ve snuck into my parents’ bedroom and am quietly walking across their carpet, praying that I don’t make a sound. I open their closet and find the brown metal box. My heart is pounding, hands shaking. I crouch down, balancing on the balls of my feet, ready to jump up and escape at the potential first creak of the stairs. Silence. So far so good. I lift the top up slowly. It doesn’t betray me by squeaking. I’m grateful. My little fingers search through the vanilla colored tabs labeled…

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