Kofi Frempong; Reminding us of the power of process

The scent of graphite and paper fills the air as Kofi Frempong’s hands move across yet another blank canvas. In this moment, he is simultaneously in his Toronto studio and in a French kitchen at three years old, watching his father transform emptiness into beauty. This connection between past and present, between Ghana and Canada, between doubt and purpose, defines his very existence.

As I sit with Kofi, listening to his story, I am reminded of the many diaspora children who carry homelands in their bones while building new lives elsewhere. There is something familiar in his journey, a melody that resonates with those of us who have navigated multiple worlds, belonging everywhere and nowhere at once.

Born in Ghana, Kofi’s story begins with separation. At three, his parents left him with extended family while they established themselves in France. This early fragmentation would become a theme in his life and work, the spaces between, the connections across distance, the healing through creation.

“When I turned four, they brought me to France,” Kofi recalls. “My mom said I was drawing from two, or three in the kitchen. I saw my dad turn a blank piece of paper into something beautiful. I enjoyed the process of turning a blank sheet to something beautiful.”

The power of this memory, watching creation unfold, speaks to the profound impact of witnessing artistry in childhood. How many of us found our calling not through grand declarations, but through quiet observations of those we admired? Kofi’s parents, perhaps unknowingly, provided him with a sanctuary for transition.

After a year in France, the family moved again, this time to Montreal, then Toronto for grade one. Each migration demanded adaptation; each new classroom required reinvention. Art became Kofi’s constant companion, his native tongue in a world of changing languages.

“I would draw and trace all the time. It was all about the process,” he explains, his voice softening. “I would be doodling, and I was scared I was going to get in trouble. Instead, my teacher was amazed, and the students were also impressed.”

This moment of validation in fourth grade, when his fear of punishment transformed into recognition, marks the first time Kofi acknowledged himself as an artist. At ten years old, he claimed an identity that would both sustain and challenge him for decades to come.

What follows in Kofi’s story is a pattern many creatives will recognize: the embrace of passion, followed by doubt, then abandonment, and ultimately, return. As Maya Angelou might remind us, there is power in the cycles of our lives; each departure prepares us for a more meaningful homecoming.

In high school, art became Kofi’s refuge. “I was able to escape some of the trials of high school. There was no pressure, only the pressure I put on myself as an artist,” he shares. This sanctuary was soon breached by new anxieties. “I was introduced to paint, and I was unsure of how to navigate. I used to have anxiety around painting, so I would try to avoid it at all costs.”

The transition from drawing to painting marked the beginning of Kofi’s crisis of confidence. What had been a source of freedom became a source of fear. His journey through Humber College and later Centennial College, both times landing on academic probation, speaks to the profound disconnect between his artistic identity and his academic experience.

“One of the course leads had a talk with me and said that art was not the career path for me,” Kofi remembers, the memory still fresh. “I finished up the year, and switched to Centennial, and was on academic probation again. I got the same talk again, and I think I convinced myself that maybe art was not my passion.”

How many of us have abandoned our callings because someone in authority questioned our path? How often do we internalize external doubts until they become our own truths?

“Seven years passed, and I had not touched my artwork. I actually felt like a hypocrite,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. This period of artistic dormancy, this seven-year winter, speaks to the cost of self-betrayal. Kofi was helping others yet neglecting a vital part of himself. The irony is palpable: a healer in need of healing, a guide who had lost his way.

What brought Kofi back to art was not a dramatic revelation, but a series of life shifts that gradually realigned him with his truth. “Once again, I got the admiration when I posted my art on Instagram, and this brought me back to grade 4,” he says, a smile touching his lips. The validation he received as a child echoed through time, calling him home.

The moment of his public return to painting; standing before a crowd of 500 people marks a pivotal point in Kofi’s journey. “I got up in front of the crowd, and I heard a lot of negative talk. It all went silent, and I went back to France. I remembered that it was about the process. As soon as I went back there, I was reborn.”

In this moment of performance and vulnerability, Kofi transcended his anxiety by returning to his artistic origins, the joy of process rather than the pressure of product. This rebirth represented a return to self.

When asked to chart his growth through a single painting, Kofi selects “Safi,” created during a period of separation from his wife and children. “What makes her significant is I reflected on the amazing Black women who have entered my life. What stands out in that picture is the eyes. Most people assume it is a woman. I thought about all the women who have poured into me.”

This piece, this tribute to feminine strength and support, reveals Kofi’s emotional intelligence and his capacity for gratitude. In a world that often celebrates individual achievement, he acknowledges the collective effort that sustains us.

Another significant work, “The Breath Before,” emerged after a two-year hiatus from art. “What I have struggled with is my work-life balance. Family always takes priority. I can take care of everyone else, and this is not always the best thing,” Kofi reflects. The tension between care for others and care for self is a familiar struggle, particularly for those from communal cultures where individual needs are often subsumed by collective responsibilities.  “I leaned into the process, and it turned out to be my best piece, not my favourite, but the best one.”

When I ask Kofi about his future self walking through a gallery of his works, his response reveals both contentment and aspiration. “Exactly how it feels now, just larger. I can create what I want to create, at a larger scale. The fact that people connect with my art, I don’t have to depend on a sale to support me.”

This vision of creative freedom, of art sustained by connection rather than commerce, speaks to a mature understanding of purpose. Kofi’s hope that his art gives people permission to pursue their own goals” transforms his personal journey into a collective gift.

To younger artists finding their visual language, Kofi offers wisdom born of experience, “Lean on the process. What I live by is creating safe spaces that are conducive to love. On an individual level that applies. If you are able to do this, your creativity opens up.”

As our conversation draws to a close, I am struck by the circular nature of Kofi’s journey; from the child watching his father create in a French kitchen, to the man creating spaces for others to discover their artistic voices. His story has become about the courage to reclaim abandoned parts of ourselves, to integrate our fragmented identities into something whole and beautiful.

In a world that often demands specialization and certainty, Kofi Frempong reminds us of the power of process, the value of vulnerability, and the healing that comes when we dare to pick up the tools of our childhood and begin again.