Cyrus Kabiru's works fashioned from found objects and industrial waste are the talk of the art world. Just don't call this born rebel an 'African artist', writes Oliver Roberts I'm in Cyrus Kabiru's studio at SMAC gallery, Woodstock, and I keep stepping all over his materials. A rusty bicycle chain. A shark-toothed sprocket. mini_story_image_vleft1A whole lot of other bits that I can't identify, metallic, industrialish stuff. One time I stand on a bicycle bell and the ring punctuates our conversation as if we're chatting in a kitchen or a dining room, waiting for the oven timer to go off so we can sit down and eat together.Kabiru, from Kenya, is already pretty well-known for his C-Stunners, glasses that he makes from found objects and trashed electronics, and his next project is converting black mambas into works of art.The black mamba, if you don't know, is a specific type of bicycle used on the streets of Kenya, Nairobi in particular, but it's an object, a machine of heritage and nostalgia, that is slowly being replaced on the roads by motorbikes.So Kabiru's reworking of these old bikes is a tribute to that, to a disappearing landmark, and for Kenyans of this generation, the gradual vanishing of the black mamba is perhaps also emblematic of a fading patriarchy because many a boy or girl's father owned a black mamba and would use it daily to get to work, to do business on and even to transport his family (the bike was often modified by attaching a kind of seat over the rear wheel - up to three people could ride pillion at any one time).Like Kabiru's C-Stunners (which, since being shown at places like Milan Design Week and Harlem, New York, have attracted interest from celebrities such as rapper and actor Mos Def who, on a recent visit to Nairobi, specifically asked to meet Kabiru), yes, like his C-Stunners, Kabiru's black mamba project is steeped in all kinds of conscious and subconscious metaphors.mini_story_image_vright2Kabiru's explanation for the invention of his C-Stunners is as follows: his father used to wear glasses when he was young and he crushed them one day by mistake. What followed was a "beating" by his grandmother.After that, Kabiru's father hid the glasses. When Cyrus was seven he told his father he wanted to own glasses just like him. Instead of getting him a pair, Cyrus's father - probably still carrying some kind of latent disturbance from his own lost-glasses incident - challenged Cyrus to make his own instead.And so it is that father-as-disciplinarian has also been directly responsible for Kabiru's artistic dismantling of the black mamba."My dad used to have a black mamba and he made me hate it," Kabiru says. "First of all, the bike had an extension at the back and it bounced all over the place when you rode on it. Then, I was the only person who was made to wash the bike. I wouldn't play in the evenings after school like other kids because I'd have to wait for my dad to come home from work [on the mamba] so I could wash the bike."Over the weekend I used to take the bicycle apart and clean each part one by one. He made me hate the bicycle because of that. But, my dad, I like him. I always wanted to be in the army and he made it like that, that same discipline, like living in a barracks. In a way, I feel like I grew up in the army and that same discipline applies in my life nowadays."story_article_left1Kabiru mentions his desire to be in the army several times during our meeting. It's sort of odd coming from a guy who has always been rebellious. He could very well have the discipline and mental fortitude to be a great soldier, but you get the feeling that he'd constantly be up for insubordination. Plus you'd imagine that dismantling his rifle and turning it into a sculpture would be kind of an issue.In 2013, Kabiru was a fellow at TED's "The Young, the Gifted, the Undiscovered" in the US, and there's a Q&A on the TED blog in which he talks at length about being a rebel in his community, how he had to fight against cultural norms and expectations to become an artist."I was a bit rude to everyone," he says. "I don't care. I don't follow what people want - I follow what I want. I don't really like people. I want to go my own way. When I was a little boy, grown-ups thought I was a bad example. They used to tell their kids, 'Work hard. If you won't work hard you'll be like Cyrus.' I was very different. I was always in my house, doing art, painting and making sculptures, and no one understood what I was doing."The bit there where Kabiru says he doesn't really like people, don't let it put you off. He has the misanthropic streak typical of most artists but he certainly is not an unpleasant man. Actually, he's quite soft-spoken, and serene, and genial, but he's also feverishly focused on what he wants to be, and very forthright when it comes to the subject of African art, the way it's perceived and presented.mini_story_image_vright3"People always say, 'You are an African artist.' No. I am not an African artist, I am an artist from Africa. Most of the artists, they always talk about 'African, African, African', but there's no need for talking or giving the story of Africa because everyone knows about Africa, so it's like you are selling the history instead of selling the art."Another problem we have nowadays is that we are selling poverty more than creativity. It's like, 'I'll tell you about my background instead of telling you about my work.' We need to change this. I don't want you to see my work and see my background; I want you to see my work and see my future."It's for these reasons that Kabiru is reluctant to give more information than necessary about his past. Even when I ask his age he will not tell me. He goes, "Mmm ... I'm old. But in art we don't have age." (He is not old. He was born in 1984. I looked it up.)He is also hesitant to sell his work through galleries because he's worried the gallery might start to control his ideas, send him off in a direction he will typically rebel against."I want to make it so my work is so good that collectors are coming to me, not the other way around. I don't want to chase. Also, I don't do my work to make money, I do my work to make me happy."Cyrus Kabiru's work can be viewed at SMAC Gallery...