Old Money

An elder sits inside every sign of established success: title, red ceremonial clothing, tinted spectacles, gold.

Blood runs from his mouth into his white beard.

He remains composed.

That composure is the painting.

Placed against New Money, the work turns wealth into a generational argument. The younger man bleeds while making his fortune. This man inherited both the fortune and whatever history made it possible.

Time has converted struggle into pedigree.

Azekwoh is interested in what happens when money grows old enough to acquire ceremony, titles and respectability. Every fortune eventually develops a story about itself. Some parts are polished. Others are forgotten.

The blood in Old Money behaves like memory.

It returns to the surface anyway.