There is an increasing authority to the paintings of Coster Ojwang’ that pleases both the eye and the heart.

What delights the eye is their sound structure based on taut drawing, plus the succulent application of paint that defines and celebrates subjects he clearly loves.

The heart is uplifted by the authenticity of the paintings. They reveal an artist who is basing his work on disciplined study.

Instead of dabbing bright colours around the canvas apparently purely for their decorative effect, Ojwang’ is now using his palette as a descriptive tool, as can be seen in his current exhibition, at the Polka Dot gallery at The Souk in Karen.

For instance, in a view over Mai Mahiu from the Rift Escarpment, fields of red and ultramarine compete with the expected shades of green. But it is in perhaps three or four paintings that I sense he is really beginning to find his way; confidently exploring the land and cityscapes.

His Fauvist use of racy vermilion in Gilgil Hills II is stunning; while the quieter blues, duns and greys of its companion piece Gilgil Hills III offers a more reflective view.

My only caveat here is that both were based on photographs, which means Ojwang’s initial problems of form, composition and single point perspective were sorted before he even reached for his brush.

I liked too his paintings of the National Archive in Nairobi. The colours are restrained but precise and the atmosphere he evokes (particularly in the smaller of the two works) is convincing.

What is apparent in this small exhibition of around 25 paintings is that Ojwang’ like all good artists is on a journey. He is heading from the naturalistic aesthetic of his earlier works towards…. well, where?

In his later paintings, exemplified by a small cityscape in the racks that remains unhelpfully untitled, he is beginning to flatten the image and present the urban landscape as a series of interlocking colours and shapes.

By emphasising the primacy of his paintings’ formal qualities over their subjective meaning he is heading down an interesting road, at the end of which lies abstraction.

This progression towards non-figurative painting is a journey only he can make and its end is not inevitable. Ojwang’ can — and does — stop at several points along that road, as this exhibition demonstrates.

I am curious to see where he will end up.

Commercialism

Ojwang’ is sharing the exhibition with the Ugandan Ismael Kateregga, an artist for whom the chocolate box was invented.

There are 17 of his paintings on show, seven at around 90cm by 120cm and a series of 10 smaller works, each 20 by 20, framed and ready to go. It is these smaller works that attract the most, possibly because everything Kateregga has to say can be said at that size.

For certain he handles paint well, draws competently and composes surely yet he seems to run out of ideas rather quickly, as exposure to a room full of these pretty snapshots in sugar almond shades establishes rather too clearly.

It would be kinder to say Kateregga has confidence in his métier and is consistent in his subject matter…. busy markets, street scenes and boats on the beach.

Oh, and that popular stand-by wildlife, represented here by elephants and zebras.

For me his work lacks excitement in spite of all his skills and his paintings fit comfortably into the world of ad agency commercialism.

This is particularly evident in the larger paintings in which fragments of a scene are strategically placed around the Golden Mean, with the rest of the canvas left blank.

If there were only one or two of them we could see them as try-outs of form, composition and colour — but they are such a feature of his work we begin to suspect that they might be a little gimmicky as well as clever.

It is almost as though they were picture spreads from magazine soap serials with lots of space left for a box of type headed The Story So Far…..

Kateregga’s big market scene shows he is more than capable of filling his canvas so why leave us with just a few fragments?

Does he fear sustaining his paintings over the full measure will make them awkward and stiff?

But that just a part of them will be as fresh as that tune that sticks in your head?

They said of Sinatra that his intervals were as important as the notes he sang, but Kateregga is not, alas Ol’ Blue Eyes by any stretch.

And for him, My Way might not be the right way after all.