The African Fashion Designer Award (AFDA) 2025 has recognised one of Nigeria’s rising cultural voices in visual storytelling, as Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni was announced winner of the African Iconic Fine Art Photographer of the Year category, a prestigious title newly introduced to honour excellence in visual arts beyond fashion design.
Her award-winning body of work, “African Preggy Ready to Party,” stood out for its bold, culture-rooted narrative that celebrates pregnancy, womanhood, and African identity through colour, composition, and symbolic styling. The series blends fashion, fine art, and cultural heritage, reimagining the African pregnant woman as radiant, confident, and beautifully visible.
This year’s AFDA selection process combined expert curation with public voting, giving the award both artistic credibility and widespread cultural validation. I
n the words of one of the AFDA Team, “Kikelomo’s work does more than capture maternity, it reframes it. She brings elegance, strength, and joy to, a subject often approached with limitation. This is fine art with cultural memory and modern energy.”
Other nominees for the award were Kester Kanayo Onyemaechi, Olamide Bakare, Tosin Bakre, Edirin John Duvwiama.
Solomon-Ayeni’s win is especially significant because the AFDA platform is known for spotlighting Africa’s most innovative voices in fashion, culture, and design. The expansion into photographic arts marks a deeper recognition of visual storytelling as part of Africa’s creative ecosystem.
This victory also adds to a remarkable run for Kikelomo in recent months, including international exhibitions in London, Berlin, Venice, and Spain, as well as cross-cultural projects through her organization, Red19 Global.
“African Preggy Ready to Party” continues to spark global conversations on representation, family, and the changing visual language around African women. And now, with this award, Kikelomo’s work takes its place among the continent’s most influential artistic contributions, proving once again that African creativity is not only evolving, but leading.
Mr Akisanmi’s art is what happens when reverence meets rebellion, reverence for nature, rebellion against convention. He doesn’t wrestle wood into obedience; he listens until it tells him what it wants to become. And in that listening, the miraculous happens, a stump becomes a storyteller, a discarded log becomes a lesson in endurance.The Talking Clock: Time as a Native Tongue
One of the most striking works from Rezuna’s collection is a rustic wall clock carved from raw wood, its uneven edges proudly preserved. The surface bears Yoruba numerals – Ejìlá, Èsán, Éfà – like an ode to ancestry. It’s not just a clock; it’s a reclamation of time itself.In a world where imported perfection often erases local memory, this piece insists that even time should speak our language. The natural fissures and knots across its face resemble continents, a quiet reminder that African time, with its patience and rhythm, is as sacred as the wood it’s carved from.
The Light that Listens: Another standout creation, a floor lamp entwined with rope and crowned by woven shades , turns illumination into intimacy.The lamps lean toward each other like elders sharing secrets. The interplay of bark, rope, and woven fiber creates a symphony of materials, an ecosystem of texture.
It’s hard to tell where nature ends and design begins; the entire form feels as if the forest itself decided to glow for a while. Mr Seun calls such pieces “functional sermons,” and indeed, they preach a gospel of craftsmanship that honors origin and purpose in equal measure.
The Table that Testifies: Then there’s the live-edge table engraved with scripture: “He prepares a table before me.” The grain swirls like ripples of prayer, the polish gleams like morning devotion. Here, craftsmanship becomes communion.
Each curve and imperfection is left intact, not hidden beneath resin, but celebrated. The inscription isn’t decoration; it’s a declaration. In this, Seun reveals his deepest creative thesis: that beauty is not opposed to faith, beauty is faith, carved and sanded into form.Wood as Memory, Metal as Modernity
Rezuna’s minimalist stools and dining sets, crafted from wood and steel, show another dimension of Akisanmi’s design intelligence. Sleek, functional, and unapologetically modern, they balance the organic with the industrial, proof that African design doesn’t have to mimic anyone; it only needs to remember itself.The slender steel frames serve as visual metaphors for resilience, light, strong, enduring, while the wood slabs above them pulse with warmth and personality.In these juxtapositions, Seun captures the rhythm of the continent: ancient and forward-looking all at once.
The Puzzle of Creation: Even in something as simple as the Rezuna Puzzle, a jigsaw bearing spiritual inscriptions, Mr Akisanmi invites participation. He turns art into dialogue. You assemble rather than merely admire. The puzzle turns into a metaphor because creativity is the process of putting faith, perseverance, and imperfection together until something meaningful is revealed.
The Gospel According to Wood
At Rezuna Craft Africa, Seun Akisanmi and his group are constructing a renaissance rather than just a workshop. Mr. Seun restores the craft’s dignity in an industry that is frequently overshadowed by imported furniture and fads. His works discuss sacred utility, patience, and sustainability. They serve as a reminder that design can be modest and transcendent, local and infinite.Every piece bears the imprint of a narrative that is human, purposeful, and timeless rather than mass-produced. Through his eyes, the African home becomes a gallery, the everyday object becomes art, and the familiar becomes profound.
Ubuntu has an impact on you off-stage as well. Like a drumming recalling its own echo, it enters your bones and synchronizes your heartbeat with its rhythm. You don’t merely observe it.
Joachim “Jojo” Keke is not an arrival; rather, he is a return. He has a calm ferocity that comes from knowing the discipline of art as well as the suffering of life. Every flex and contraction sounds like a language that relies more on pulse and breath than on alphabets.
Jojo is a talkative man. His movement blends prayer and protest. Instead of just going to the stage, Africa remembers itself in him.
More than just a costume, his pants, which are vibrantly patterned in shades of burnt orange, magenta, and yellow, are an act of confession. With the singing of marketplaces, laughter, and the obstinate light of home, the colors hum against the black stage. His bare and marked chest conveys trust rather than weakness. He moves as if he has witnessed silence and has chosen to respond with rhythm.
Originating in the philosophy of Southern Africa Ubuntu unfolds like a muscle meeting memory: “I am because we are.” Every motion asks and offers: Will you see me? Are you going to move with me? Jojo’s motions move through space like invisible threads, connecting, repairing, and tugging. You feel him being held by the floor, then let go. When he jumps, the air trembles. Abruptly, you are no longer seated. It includes you.
He extends a hand into the emptiness during a silent moment. He may be offering assistance, but it’s unclear. But that’s what Ubuntu is all about, it’s never one way. You feel him being held by the floor, then let go. When he bends, rolls, and rises again, the air trembles.
Even though the performance is only ten minutes long, time becomes distorted. Instead of applause, what remains is the knowledge that we are all connected, frail, fierce, and human.
Jojo dances to be remembered, not to impress. to serve as a reminder that memory is movement and that shared memory is healing.
And there’s a humming silence when he finally stops. Because Ubuntu is a continuous performance. Long after the lights go out, it’s still a heartbeat.
Jojo is a dancer and theater artist who has a story in his muscles.
As Nigeria marks its 65th Independence Day, one of its daughters, Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni, CEO of Red19 Global, is being celebrated for making history in the art world. On September 20th, she launched a groundbreaking bi-continental art exhibition titled Oro Asa, Ohun Atijo (Cultural Words, Ancient Voices) in collaboration with Aafin Ilu Cultural Centre in Ede, Osun State, Nigeria. The exhibition ran simultaneously in Derby, United Kingdom, and Ede Nigeria, positioning her as one of the few Nigerian female curators to successfully execute a dual-location international showcase of this magnitude.
The UK version, which concluded on 28th September 2025, in Derby, was met with wide acclaim, attracting artists, cultural enthusiasts, including the Nigerian councillor in derby, Nduwke Onuoha. Meanwhile, the Nigerian version continued till September 30th 2025, providing a symbolic bridge between home and abroad, a perfect representation of the cultural resilience Nigeria celebrates today.
The exhibition featured works by a diverse group of contemporary African artists, including Dauda Ova, Chinwendu Chidi, Anthony Anisiebo, Edirin John Duvwiama, Shegun Oseh, Mercy Odukogbe, Rachael Okogie, Bukola Abiodun, Ibukun Oparinu, Medeyonmi Akran, Oluwatobi Ogundunsin, Attah George Unwuchola, Olaniyi Atolagbe, Oluwatosin Lamina, Ifeoluwapo Okunade, and Solomon-Ayeni herself. Together, their works explored tradition, cultural memory, and the echoes of ancestral voices, reminding audiences of the timeless relevance of African heritage.
Speaking on the significance of the project, Solomon-Ayeni noted: “Oro Asa, Ohun Atijo (Cultural Words, Ancient Voices) is not just an exhibition. It is a cultural dialogue, one that connects Nigeria to its diaspora while reminding us that our stories and traditions remain powerful tools of identity and resilience. It is also a confirmation that collaboration is the new gold. To unveil this project as Nigeria celebrates its Independence is a deep honour.”
For Prince Adewale Laoye, custodian of Aafin Ilu, the collaboration was historic: “This is the first time Aafin Ilu is collaborating on such an ambitious international exhibition, and it took Kikelomo’s vision and persistence to make it possible. She is proof of the global impact Nigerian women are capable of achieving in the arts.”
As Nigeria reflects on its independence, Oro Asa, Ohun Atijo (Cultural Words, Ancient Voices) stands as a shining example of cultural excellence, innovation, and the power of women leading change. Through her leadership at Red19 Global, Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni is not only redefining art management but also opening global doors for African artists.
Her story on this Independence Day is a reminder that Nigerian creativity knows no borders.
Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni has been called a “restless visionary,” a Nigerian-born visual artist whose lens dwells on maternity, womanhood, and resilience, often blurring the line between abstraction and social commentary. Her journey from Lagos to international platforms has marked her out as one of the strongest visual voices to emerge from Nigeria in the last decade. In this exclusive conversation with The Nation’s Samuel Oamen, Arts & Culture Desk, she reflects on her practice, her global exhibitions, and her mission to use photography as a tool for advocacy and family bonds.
1. You’ve been described as a restless visionary whose lens dwells on maternity, womanhood, and resilience. How do you see your work?
For me, photography has always been more than documentation. My goal is to use my art as a voice, to encourage child protection, safeguard women, promote family bonds, and contribute to the fight against sexual and gender-based violence. Sometimes my images lean toward abstraction, but they always speak directly to these urgent social issues while celebrating resilience and humanity.
2. Let’s go back to where it all began. How did your journey start publicly?
My first major public showing was in 2011 with the X-Perspective collective at the Goethe-Institut Lagos, curated by Yetunde Ayeni-Babaeko. That platform gave visibility to emerging women photographers and set the tone for my career. I exhibited three images, but one titled Door to Her Soul stood out, attracting attention and even making sales. It was validating; it told me my work had a place in the larger conversation.
3. In 2014, you returned to the Goethe-Institut with Battle Scars, a breast cancer awareness exhibition. What did that mean for you?
That project was deeply personal and socially urgent. One of the survivors I was assigned to was named Mabel. Mabel could not afford her medications, and the cancer was spreading fast. It was sad that the teaching hospital was often on strike, resulting in delays in chemotherapy treatment. Mabel eventually died before the exhibition date. Battle Scars wasn’t just about making beautiful images; it was advocacy. Proceeds supported the Sebeccly Cancer Care Foundation, and it carried a curatorial weight that merged art with tangible impact. That experience affirmed for me that photography can be a tool for protection, healing, and social awareness.
4. You also built a photography brand, Red19 Photography. What inspired that?
Red19 began out of a desire to celebrate families, maternity, newborns, and childhood milestones. Over the years, it grew into a trusted studio brand in Lagos. We participated in expos and community events, often offering free portraits that gave families cherished memories. That family-first ethos built loyalty and recognition.
5. Beyond the family market, you’ve had activist collaborations. Can you talk about one that really shaped you?
Yes. One that stands out is our work with the Lagos State Domestic & Sexual Violence Agency (DSVA) since October 2017. In 2022, we documented one of their major symposiums, and that gave my photography a new kind of weight: aligning my lens with survivor-centred storytelling and public education.
6. Your exhibitions expanded internationally beginning in 2023. How did it feel to break onto the global exhibition stage?
It’s been humbling and exciting. In London, I presented Teehi, Iya-Amo, Pregnant Talking Drummer, and Hello My Baby at The Holy Art Gallery, and I showed the African Preggy Ready to Party series at the Madeke Gallery Modern Art Exhibition. From there, my work expanded across Europe, with exhibitions at Cipriarte Venezia in Venice and Casa del Arte in Spain. These were not just isolated shows; together, they created a rhythm and momentum that connected my work with diverse audiences across borders.”
7. In 2024, you presented at Black History 365 in London. What made that moment special for you?
Yes, on November 2, 2024, with Our Heritage UK. I presented pieces from my Backing the Baby series, which celebrates the African tradition of mothers carrying children on their backs. For me, this was about reframing that practice not as vulnerability, but as power, a foundation of family bonding and resilience. The audience response was overwhelming. People spoke of déjà vu, of memories it unlocked. That was deeply moving.
8. Some critics say your photography reframes maternity and womanhood as sites of power, duality, and cultural memory. What do you say about that?
Kikelomo: I embrace that. For me, maternity and womanhood are not just cultural symbols; they are responsibilities, sites of protection, and continuity. If my work reminds society to value and protect women, children, and families, then I know I’m on the right path.
9. Looking back now more than a decade since your first exhibition, what stands out the most in this journey?
Kikelomo: The consistency of purpose. From Lagos to London to Venice and Spain, my work has stayed centred on protection, bonding, and resilience. Each exhibition has been an opportunity to move people toward empathy and action. That, for me, is the restless vision I’ve carried since 2011.
10. And finally, looking forward, what should people expect from you in the next phase of your career?
Kikelomo: I plan to expand red19 beyond photography. We will launch red19 global in the United Kingdom. We will provide global support for art creators so they and their work can get more international visibility and recognition, which will result in sales for them. Our photography services will still be a part of us. I also plan to exhibit my work in the famous New York art expo.
There is something disarming about how Babalola Kazeem paints a face. It is not just portraiture; it is confession by colour. Both Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) and Yellow Clothing is Innocent are, on the surface, studies of young Black girlhood, but look closer and you will see the quiet rebellion of softness. Kazeem’s oil on canvas work does not shout; it hums, it lingers, and it stares back at you as if to say, “I know you are looking, but do you see?”
Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy), painted in 2018, greets you first with warmth that is not quite warmth. The burnt oranges, bruised purples, and unexpected blues flicker like candlelight on brown skin. The girl’s eyes are alert, and her face is painted with emotion rather than light. With each stroke bearing the weight of empathy, the brushwork has an intimate yet alive quality.
This is not just a portrait; it is an encounter. The audience is allowed to observe a vulnerable moment without being bothered. Kazeem’s colour palette creates a symphony of contrasts, cool shadows pulsing beneath hot tones, as though the skin itself is translating feeling into pigment. The background dissolves into abstraction, soft, muted, and ghostly, allowing the figure’s presence to dominate. There is something profoundly African about that composition, a refusal to fade into the background.
The title Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) becomes a whisper of spiritual irony. Is the gaze merciful, or is she the one offering mercy to the world that sees her? Her expression balances fragility and resistance, and that tension is what makes Kazeem’s work magnetic. It is not sentimental. It is truthful.
Yellow Clothing is Innocent (2023) follows, which is more colorful, audacious, and purposeful in its provocations. Yellow Clothing is an assertion, whereas mercy is introspection. Her hair is arranged in gentle, round knots that evoke childhood as the girl leans diagonally across the canvas. However, the scene is complicated by the maturity in her eyes. She looks up, not to get away but to inquire. A still life arrangement with bottles and leaves behind her suggests order and tradition through its serene domesticity. However, everything is interrupted by that striking yellow fabric.
That yellow is a protest in pigment form, not just a decorative accent. It is the color of light that is unruly. It spills, bleeds, and challenges the observer to confuse brightness with innocence. The phrase “Yellow Clothing is Innocent” feels loaded in the context of Black childhood and Black femininity; it could be interpreted as a critique of the way colonial color lenses interpret purity or as a reclamation of joy in its purest form. Despite the world’s doubts, Kazeem seems to be telling us that innocence, like art, exists.
This artwork reveals an understanding of composition. In the still life on the upper right, the bottles, plants, and flowers represent growth and containment. They stand in contrast to the wide flow of the yellow fabric, which shines freely and refuses to be contained. It feels like a gentle dance between being grown and still holding on to childhood.
What binds these two works is Kazeem’s unapologetic use of colour as character. He does not use it to beautify; he uses it to narrate. Each hue carries its own emotional frequency: ochres for memory, cobalt for questioning, vermilion for defiance.
I appreciate how Kazeem portrays Blackness as a kaleidoscope rather than a single tone. Mercy’s strokes are intimate, like disclosing a secret. While in Yellow Clothing, they seem more expansive and free, as if the artist has exhaled. From tenderness to self-assurance, from quiet grace to bold affirmation, the paintings collectively create a timeline of artistic maturity.
And let us not ignore the subtle feminism in this work. Kazeem’s portraits of women do not pose for the viewer’s pleasure; they exist within their own agency. Their gazes, direct, defiant, or distant, are never passive. These are not muses; they are mirrors. They force us to confront how we perceive Black women and how often we project narratives onto their stillness.
There is a line between realism and reverence in Kazeem’s art that few artists manage to tread without tripping into sentimentality. He paints with affection, yes, but also with honesty. His brushwork tells the truth, and truth, when rendered in oil, becomes almost sacred.
Viewing these two works side by side, one feels the artist’s evolution not just in technique, but in trust. Mercy (A Gaze of Mercy) looks like it was painted by someone asking questions, while Yellow Clothing is innocent like someone who has found some of the answers. Yet both remain open-ended, like good stories; they do not conclude, they continue to breathe.
To look at Babalola Kazeem’s paintings is to feel seen, even in your unspoken corners. His art understands that mercy and innocence are not states of being; they are acts of endurance. In his colours, we find not just beauty, but becoming.
https://muckrack.com/kikelomo-solomon-ayeni Kikelomo Solomon-Ayeni is a multi-skilled, award-winning artist (visual and written), Art Curator and Jury, Art Reviewer whose work has been featured on Vanguard Nigeria, Daily Trust Nigeria, The Daily Independent Nigeria, The Nation Nigeria, The Nigerian Tribune, and others.
