- From Mudiare Onobrakpeya
Barely over a year, Nigerian visual art sector has lost four men whose creative fires were still burning fiercely. They are Zinno Orara, Abraham Uyovbisere, Olu Ajayi, and Tam Fiofori. They weren’t done. They were still painting, documenting, mentoring, still showing up with something to say, something only they could say, and yet, they’re gone.
It’s hard not to wonder: what if the story had played out differently? What if there were structured grants, endowments, or even a modest health insurance plan for practicing studio artists and craftsmen—those who don’t sit in the safe corridors of academia, but wrestle daily with light, form, pigment, and memory? Perhaps, just perhaps, they would still be with us.
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Contrast this with our university teachers. Many of them, thanks to institutional frameworks, enjoy longer, more supported lives, like pensions, sabbaticals, HMOs. Their creative colleagues, however, often navigate the harsh terrain of self-employment with no safety net, no institutional lifeline.
These weren’t old men slowing down. They were still in stride—commanding exhibitions, making new work, investing in others.
Zinno was still unveiling deeply moving pieces. Uyovbisere’s palette was still refined and evolving. Olu Ajayi had just begun a new chapter of creative maturity, and Uncle Tam was still capturing the spirit of a nation through word and lens.
We celebrate them, yes. But we must also mourn the systems that failed them. For a nation that takes so much pride in its culture, we offer our culture bearers far too little security. If we want a future where creativity thrives, where art doesn’t come at the cost of wellbeing, we must rethink how we honour, not just the dead, but the living.
