MUSCLE

With no single protagonist or linear narrative, MUSCLE immerses us in a spectacle of strength, through an intimate portrait of bodybuilders in the slums of Lagos. Inflated muscles, bulging veins, and luminous skin glistening with sweat fills the screen. Shot almost entirely with close ups, the camera hovers so near its subjects, moving softly like breath on skin that at times figures become blurred, abstracted forms. The lack of depth of field as bodies are layered and the action is contained, conveys a sense of discipline and restriction. Ashadu’s slow, measured pans across backs, chests, and arms meditate on visibility, drawing attention to the embodiment and representation of the Black male body without rendering it singular or fixed. The metallic clang of barbells is punctuated with guttural sounds of exertion against the ambience of the streets and we discern this is a makeshift outdoor gym. Breath and muscle move in syncopated sonic choreography, and the men’s commitment to the ritual of maintaining the body is evident. At intervals, the men drink sachets of ‘pure water’ – an act marked by class-coded significance. Ashadu frames the water with the precision of product placement, alluding to capitalist structures. In patriarchal societies like Nigeria, the construction of masculine identity and thus its constraints, necessitates a performance of masculinity. A convergence and imbrication of gesture, tone, activation and perception. In MUSCLE, this amplified and fragile portrayal of strength requires the validation of an audience. As the men work to refine and tailor their bodies, we witness their desires manifest in physical form, and gain insight into the immaterial realm of affect that resides in each of them.