In the past few years, as podcasts have proliferated and embedded themselves in the fabric of culture, they've paradoxically become a punchline. Spend enough time on social media and you'll stumble upon exasperated harangues by people claiming society has had enough of podcasts. Spend some more time and perhaps you'll stumble into the corner of the internet where male podcasters are regarded as walking, breathing red flags. In this precinct of social media, while female podcasters aren't quite held with the same level of contempt, they're also treated with suspicion. The opening sentence of an essay by Naomi Ezenwa for Culture Custodian titled The Great Decline of Meaningful Conversation in Nigeria’s Media Space adequately captures the consensus on podcasts in this part of the world: “Everyone has a podcast—or is about to launch one. From living rooms to YouTube studios, microphones are plugged in, ring lights are on, and conversations are being recorded at a dizzying pace.”

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More insightful is the second paragraph, in which she takes on the question of whether the explosion in podcast popularity reflects increased consumption of the form. “As Nigeria’s talk media continues to grow, we must ask: is anyone actually listening, or is everybody just talking?” She writes. Spotify’s Top Podcast list, one of the many dispatches the company released last December to mark the end of the year, adds an interesting dimension to the conversation. The top five podcasts in Nigeria are: Apostle Femi Lazarus, Apostle Joshua Selman, I Said What I Said, The HonestBunch Podcast, and The Oyedepo Podcast. The obvious throughline is that a critical mass of podcasts here are faith-based. This becomes clearer when one glimpses the top ten podcasts, seven of which are faith-based. This observation has already begun to stir an array of conversations, everything from the outsized power religious figures wield over the country, to the dichotomy between the religious fervor that pulses through the country and our dysfunctional society. 

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The more salient and surprising observation however is that the seven putative faith-based podcasts on the list are in fact not really podcasts. As one of the more freewheeling media, there's hardly a single definition of what makes a podcast. Podcasts however share a few things in common. They tend to favour a conversational tone and are episodic. The archetypal podcast typically has anywhere between a single host and a small cohort who dispatch opinions or narratives into a microphone. Podcasts are typically built around the hosts, whose personalities, made manifest through podcast episodes, drive audience loyalty and shape the show’s sensibility. By contrast, the faith-based podcasts on the list are simply recordings of church services, lacking the conversational style or narrative structure that defines typical podcasts. 

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“Well, that still leaves three true podcasts in the top ten,” one might conclude. Except that in number 10 is a nondescript account that posts scraps and snippets of the wildly controversial internet personality Geh Geh, culled from all corners of the internet. Many of the episodes sound grainy and their runtimes range between two and eighteen minutes. Even more bizarre are the episode titles, which include: Four Signs Your Girlfriend is Into Hookup, Davido album is the Best in 2025, and You’re a Celebrity. This leaves I Said What I Said and The Honest Bunch Podcast, which sit at numbers 5 and 6 of the top ten list respectively, as the true podcasts in the top ten list. 

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While Spotify doesn’t release quantitative data on podcasts to the public—monthly listeners, streaming numbers—the paucity of true podcasts on Spotify’s Top Podcasts list suggests that despite the seeming ubiquity of the medium, podcast consumption in Nigeria remains low. One rebuttal to this assertion is that the overwhelming presence of Christian podcasts on Nigeria’s top podcast list is simply a function of Nigeria’s huge Christian population. This theory however falls apart once one looks to Kenya, which, despite a Christian population of roughly 85-90 percent of its total population (nearly double the percentage of Christians in Nigeria) has in its top Spotify podcast list a healthy mix of podcasts from genres as varied as romance, self-development, and comedy. In South Africa, a country whose Christian population makes up 80-84 percent of its population, a similar dynamic is at play. With podcasts like Trevor Noah’s What Now, Podcast and Chill with MacG, and True Crime South Africa in its top Spotify podcasts list, the nation displays a strong and healthy level of podcast consumption.

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Having established that despite the seeming ubiquity of podcasts in Nigeria, podcast consumption remains pitifully low. The question then becomes what the reason is for this dynamic. I suspect the problem is two-fold. On one hand, Nigerians haven’t yet adequately taken to the medium of podcasting. Winding down after a day of work or simply passing time by listening to a podcast are not widespread activities, especially considering our level of internet penetration which most studies place at around 50% of the population. A lot of work is still required to adequately sensitize Nigerians to the medium. This could take the form of targeted marketing campaigns, strategic partnerships with telcos to subsidize data for audio streaming, or even community-driven listening initiatives that demystify podcasts as a “niche” pastime.

On the other hand, the ecosystem itself has not matured enough to sustain widespread adoption. Discoverability remains poor, monetization pathways are uncertain, and creators often struggle to maintain consistency without institutional support. Until key players develop clearer infrastructures, such as platform-backed curation, local investment, and stable revenue models, the average Nigerian consumer is unlikely to see podcasting as an essential part of their media diet.

Still, this obscures the larger and more trenchant problem, which is that the vast majority of podcasts are focused on co-opting viral conversation topics and trends as opposed to cultivating any real sense of thematic identity or providing value to listeners. What emerges, then, is a glut of interchangeable shows, each chasing the same headlines, recycling the same talking points, and offering little that feels durable or necessary. In a media landscape saturated with familiar clattering, audiences have little incentive to commit their time to content that feels ephemeral, derivative, or totally unmoored from a coherent perspective.

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There’s something telling about how an artist chooses to close a year. 

Ara The Jay didn’t just stage his second annual end of year concert, NIMO LIVE; he made a statement. His live performance on December 20, 2025, at Alliance Française felt like a marker in motion, a moment that solidified his growth as a performer while pointing firmly toward what comes next. 

From the moment Ara walked on stage, there was a calm confidence in how he carried himself, someone fully comfortable in his space. He didn’t need to prove anything, and that, strangely, became the point. The way he moved, the way he interacted with the crowd, was enticing to say the least. 

This wasn’t just about running through songs from The Odyssey, his latest album. It was about how those songs have grown in a live setting. By the time the third set rolled in, a full run of Ara’s own records backed by a live band, the room felt locked in. You could hear it in the sing-alongs and see it in the way people leaned forward instead of reaching for their phones. The band added weight and warmth, letting familiar records breathe in new ways. 

The guest moments were thoughtfully placed. M.anifest and KiDi brought different textures to the stage, but nothing felt like a distraction. When newer voices like 99 Phaces and Ess Thee Legend performed, it felt like a real community rather than co-signing. 

Ara’s out-the-blue drumming set caught a lot of us off guard, in the best way possible! There was a collective “wait, since when?” in the room. It turns out Ara The Jay has been playing drums in church for years, and suddenly everything made sense. For a moment, it felt like watching someone unlock a new side of themselves in real time. 

Ara’s looks for the night matched the confidence of the performances: bold but unfussy, expressive without trying too hard. 

The production design quietly did its job in the background, which is exactly why it worked. The screens weren’t screaming for attention; they were telling a story, marked with distinct motion graphics on theme with The Odyssey album cover art. It all came together seamlessly almost without you noticing. 

The audience gave back what they were receiving. The energy stayed high, but more importantly, present. People were there to feel the show. That says a lot about where Ara The Jay sits culturally right now. 

Thinking back to the first Nimo Live, the growth is impossible to miss. This show felt more grounded, more assured. And if this is how Ara chooses to close chapters, it’s hard not to be curious about what a future NIMO LIVE III might look like.

As 2026 begins, this concert feels less like an ending and more like a blueprint. Ara The Jay is no longer just refining his sound; he’s shaping his live identity. If NIMO LIVE II is any indication, what lies ahead will be bigger, bolder, and even more intentional.

The Golden Globes have always existed at the intersection of film, culture, and fashion, but in 2026, the red carpet felt especially assured. This year’s standout looks were about precision and intention. From sculptural couture to immaculate tailoring, these were the moments that defined the night and will linger far beyond award season.

1. Teyana Taylor:

In a custom Schiaparelli gown, Teyana Taylor delivered one of the most memorable looks of the evening. Strategic cutouts sculpted the body with architectural precision and Tiffany jewelry, while the diamond-encrusted thong detail added provocation without veering into lewdness. It was daring yet controlled. 

 2. Ayo Edebiri:

Ayo Edebiri appeared every bit regal in Chanel. The look carried a quiet authority, presidential in its restraint. Polished, composed, and timeless, it was a moment!

3. Tessa Thompson:

Tessa Thompson’s Balenciaga look was strapless perfection. Clean lines and impeccable structure created a silhouette that felt both modern and enduring. The simplicity of the design allowed craftsmanship to take center stage, reinforcing Thompson’s reputation for intentional, fashion-forward choices.

4. Wunmi Mosaku:

Wearing custom Mathew Reisman and Messika jewelry, Sinners star, Wunmi Mosaku radiated grace. The fluidity and color of the gown were exquisite, beautifully complementing her baby bump without compromise. It was a look that celebrated form, movement, and femininity with effortless sophistication.

5. Lori Harvey:

In Roberto Cavalli, Lori Harvey opted for understated glamour. The fit was immaculate, the design restrained, and the overall effect quietly striking. In a room full of statement-making gowns, her look stood out for its confidence and simplicity.

6. Sheryl Lee Ralph:

Sheryl Lee Ralph’s Harbison Studio ensemble was chic Afrocentrism at its finest. The detailing paid homage to cultural heritage while remaining firmly contemporary. It was elegant, intentional, and deeply rooted in identity.

7. Colman Domingo:

Colman Domingo’s custom Valentino suit was tailored to perfection, styled with Boucheron jewelry. Every detail felt considered, from the cut to the subtle embellishments that elevated the look beyond classic menswear. It was refined, expressive, and not as expressive but unmistakably Domingo.

8. Chase Infiniti:

In Louis Vuitton, Chase Infiniti delivered a compelling blend of monochrome and metallic. The silhouette was strong and well-balanced, offering a modern edge that felt both experimental and wearable. A forward-thinking fashion moment.

9. Ryan Destiny:

Ryan Destiny embraced Old Hollywood glamour, pairing her look with Chopard jewelry that added timeless opulence. The result was classic without feeling dated; a reminder that elegance never goes out of style when executed with intention.

10. Damson Idris:

Damson Idris was effortlessly dapper in Prada. True to form, he delivered sharp tailoring and understated polish, letting clean lines and confident styling do the talking. Handsome, refined, and reliably impeccable.

This year, the women held it down and brought the show to the carpet, while we look forward to a more tailored season ahead for men in their red-carpet suits amidst all the beauty of the night. These ten moments sealed the deal.

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Zino Vinci, is an artist from Newham who’s work explores different themes such as friendship, romance and social issues. But this project specifically is an elevation of what makes him as a rapper so engaging to listen to.  His most recent project ‘Rap Is Art Vol 1’, exclusively on SoundCloud, has made a statement and has become popular with many rap fans. Its release reflects a time where it seems that hip-hop music is losing popularity in the mainstream and consumers no longer seem to find value in its art. This mixtape reiterates the importance of this form, and acts as a new life to Vinci’s musical career so far. Within this interview we discuss their inspirations, hip-hop’s importance and his experiences within the music industry as a rap artist. 

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What were your first interactions with music? 

Zino: From my parents, I'm Nigerian and they played a lot of Nigerian gospel music. I’m from a really small tribe in Nigeria called Isoko, so they played a lot of the music from there. It stood out to me because the language isn’t similar to what you would necessarily consider a Nigerian language to sound like. I always thought that was so beautiful. I have my older sister as well who is five years older than me and she played a lot of grime, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna and Beyonce. So it was a weird combination of a lot of songs. At this point, I wasn’t even listening to music, I was more so just hearing it in passing. I was playing wrestling games and listening to heavy metal. My friend told me about Drake and I thought he was really cool. Chief Keef was about for me during this time, and Meek Mill. Then I discovered a song called ‘Yonkers’ by Tyler The Creator and that was the first song that made me want to go and actually listen to music. 

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I really do hear the Drake influence, especially in this mixtape. What inspires you as a rapper? 

Zino: As a kid I always thought you had to be the baddest gangster to be a rapper and then you realise it's more so about expression and storytelling. I would see artists like Childish Gambino showcasing how you could be yourself and be the coolest rapper. Being a rapper is one of the coolest things you can be, every archetype of person deserves to be represented. 

I would get DM’s from younger people saying how they used to be afraid to share their love for comics and then saw me doing it and now feel more confident in showing that side of themselves. That’s what inspires me to help people be more confident in expressing themselves with who they really are. 

I think that’s the most amazing thing about rap music, it's so interactive. You can know so much about your favourite artist about what they believe and love.

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‍Do you ever worry that people who listen to your music may know too much about you? 

Zino: I’m a pretty open book. I don't feel like there is anything I really have to hide. With music there’s always a new story to tell. I think that everyone is along for the journey. Kendrick Lamar has the ‘The Heart’ series. I think it’s so beautiful how you could listen to ‘The Heart Part One’ and hear him discuss how he’s an underground rapper trying to make it. Then ‘The Heart Part Two’, he’s talking about how they think he’s Tupac. ‘The Heart Part Three’, he’s talking about how he’s that guy. I, as a fan, was along for that journey. I was like 10 years old saying that Kendrick is the guy and now I'm older I was right. But I was along for the journey and I'll be there for the rest of my life. 

I think it’s crazy, because I would be talking to people and they mention something about me and I think “how do you even know this”? And they respond “you said it five times in a song”. Sometimes when you write these personal songs, it’s like you're in a trance you don't realise, it just flows out. To you, it's a common thing, but for someone else that’s new information. That made me realise that everything you say on a song is really important. I get that in hip-hop Hip Hop there are filler lines or you may inflate something. But people are listening to everything you're saying. Especially if you sell yourself as a lyrical artist. 

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Why did you decide to call this mixtape ‘Rap is Art’? 

Zino: I grew up in an era where every other rapper had a remix to ‘Black and Yellow’. We grew up on ‘Aint on Nuttin’, everyone was on the remix. That is an element of hip-hop that was just gone. But I was listening to the Fakemink song and I thought it was so cool, I thought the beat was incredible and I really enjoyed the cadence. So I rapped on it. 

I already had an idea of a tape and calling it something beautiful, like ‘every bar’s a brushstroke’ or something art related . Me saying ‘Rap is Art’ is like me saying “of course I’m an artist because rap is art”. When he [Fakemink] said “I'm not a rapper, I'm an artist”, it triggered something in my head. I just thought it was a bit mad coming from him. We know what it is though. I have never heard a painter say “I'm a painter not an artist”. It doesn't make any sense to me. Rap is a highbrow artform at its finest, it shouldn't be seen in any other light. I love hip-hop, it changed my life, it changed so many lives. It's one of the reasons why so many people care about music. Everyone has had a period of time where they were feeling low and they had a hip-hop anthem. I wanted to make the most hip-hoppy beautiful SoundCloud tape ever! 

Shot by Lovell Small

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What’s your favourite song? ‍

Zino: I love ‘ZSL Freestyle’. That’s my favourite one right now. 

When I first started rapping I was always under the conscious rapper banner. I never liked it. Because I thought it was too restricting. I prefer being called a “woke” rapper because that is just me being aware of social issues. Conscious feels like you know the answers to everything and for me and my music, I’m talking about different antidotes. When I did the ‘ZSL Freestyle’ I was just talking my shit, I’ve never done that before. In the past I was more so, “I can't say this, they’re going to say, you can't do this”. But I have grills and chains in all my videos. I dress in streetwear. I can look any way I want and still be aware of social issues and injustices and still be Z Saint Laurent. I played it to some of my female friends and they loved it. Z Saint Laurent is a different era I'm going in. Right now I’m trying to find the balance in having fun lyrics as well as informing people about life and my perspective. 

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Through the production choices it felt like you were drawing two worlds together. Showcasing the shared history that both Black Brits and Black Americans have through music. Was this by intention? 

Zino: Of course, Black Americans were so impactful with so many things. Hip-hop is a genre that was birthed by Black Americans. I even have an interlude by Sharloola who is an amazing poet. And she talks about how it was birthed by hundreds of years of oppression in America. Of course we have parallels, similar drum patterns back in Africa or sonics in Jamaica. But if we’re talking hip-hop it's a Black American thing. I will always be thankful to that part of that diaspora for making this a thing and welcoming so many people into doing it. 

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There are also some really vulnerable moments in this project. On songs like ‘Immortalised’ and ‘Don't lose your soul’. You discuss your relationship to the music industry. Why did you decide to include that? 

Zino: When I first got into the music industry I didn't necessarily know what I was getting myself into. If you're a young person and they give you money to do the thing you've been hoping your whole life to do, you assume it's going to be one way and it isn't like that. This isn’t a unique experience either, I've spoken to different artists and they have said the same thing. You think, “perhaps if I make the best music then I will be the best” and that’s not the case. As a human it can be really disheartening putting all your effort into something and not receiving anything back. Especially when people are like “you're going to be the best, trust me”. And I trusted it and it's not paying me back. There’s people who are working 9-5’s making music and now you're asking for more shifts because music isn’t working as much as it used to. Now you're stuck in a loop of hating your job. 

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Zino: The past year I didn't really enjoy rapping. I felt like it was more of a job. I saw it as a means to an end, rather than being inspired to make some music. I’m in Newham, East London. That's the poorest part of London and one of the worst places to live according to some statistics. I personally love it. I'm not leaving but it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want my mother to keep working as hard as she does, I don't want my dad to be working this hard. I want some sort of relief and I think that this is the avenue to get it. I love rap and I want to make an impact but bills have to be paid. You do not want to be impoverished for the rest of your life especially when you're so close. I can’t quite now im far too deep in it. 

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Do you think making this mixtape has changed your relationship to making music? 

Zino: Yes. It does make me cringe a bit when people say that ‘CEO of my friendship group’ is their favourite song. I made that song in 10 minutes in my boxers. But it’s nearly 10 million streams so clearly it connected with a lot of people. To me, it was a song of the time and I was very young, but I always wanted to be known for making tasteful music that made people think about how I pieced things together. I always wanted to be a rapper’s rapper. So when your biggest song doesn't reflect that you can feel eh. But I made it at the end of the day so I can't really complain, can I?

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On Shot by Lovell Small you discuss the consumers of rap music and how they may perceive it. How at times the people listening to the music may not fully understand it. Why did you choose to address this? Zino: I love ‘ZSL Freestyle’. That’s my favourite one right now. 

Zino: I was being mad woke in my own way. People ask me why I do the illuminati sign. But it’s not the Illuminati sign, it's the Roc nation sign . This is black excellence to me, Jay Z is a rapper who started off selling drugs, found his art form, and gave opportunities for other black people to do the same thing. That’s how we got J.Cole! I always thought it was weird that anytime a black person does anything the devil did it. Why would the illuminati pick a random rapper in New York to represent them? Even the ancient aliens theory. The idea that Africans are too dumb to make pyramids. I just think it's so dumb, it diminishes everything that Africans or Black people did and do.  Also, a lot of the fans care more about sonics over character. I just feel like I can’t listen to someone who in their sane mind is a bad person. That doesn’t align with me. 

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What is next after this mixtape? 

Zino: We’re doing another EP. The working title is ‘The Odyssey’. I started ‘The Odyssey’ before ‘Rap Is Art Vol.1’. There are a lot of introspective songs. I think being a woke rapper is so cool, I'm talking about subject matters I've never spoken on before. I have a song called ‘Long sleeved T-shirt’ and it speaks about self-harm and what comes with that. The long sleeved t-shirt could be used to cover up their scars but this long sleeved t-shirt can also be a metaphor for so many other things that we put up against to cover our scars. I’ve never written about things like this. ‘Rap is Art Vol 1’ is like the baby brother of what the next tape is going to be.

Nigerian streetwear has a pricing problem. Not because the clothes are expensive. Clothes can be expensive. That's fine. The problem is that expensive has been confused with valuable. High price tags have been conflated with luxury. and mediocre quality has been justified with "You're not the target audience."

And it's exhausting to watch.

The famous line Nigerian streetwear brands love to use when people question their pricing: "You're not the target audience."

As if that explains anything. As if that justifies ₦475,000 for a basic t-shirt with a screen-printed logo. as if that makes it okay to charge luxury prices for mid-tier quality. But let's be clear: "you're not the target audience" is not a defense. It's a deflection. Because the real question isn't "who can afford this?" The real question is "what am I paying for?" And most of the time? The answer is clout. branding. association with a celebrity name. Not craftsmanship. not innovation. not design excellence. just proximity to someone famous.

pricing ≠ luxury

Virgil Abloh, the late creative director of louis vuitton menswear and founder of off-white, understood something fundamental about streetwear and luxury that Nigerian brands seem to have missed. He said: "The one thing that I think the luxury market needs to understand is that culture has changed. I don't know if there's any way to underline that any further. This should be in bold writing, that luxury by a 17-year-old's standard is completely different from his parents'. His version of luxury is streetwear." Virgil understood that luxury isn't about price. It's about cultural value. It's about what resonates with the generation defining taste right now. But he also understood accessibility. When asked about off-white's high prices and the irony of talking about youth culture while making inaccessible clothes, he admitted: "yes, they are. I try to do lower priced things when I can. I am also trying to have two conversations at once, since if you want to have a conversation with the high-end, you have to be high end."

Virgil acknowledged the tension. He didn't hide behind "you're not the target audience." He recognized the contradiction and tried to balance both worlds. Nigerian streetwear brands? They just price high and the people call it luxury.

Let's break down what most Nigerian celebrity streetwear brands offer:

basic silhouettes. t-shirts. hoodies. sweatpants. nothing innovative. nothing experimental. just standard cuts. screen-printed logos. maybe embroidery if you're lucky. no intricate details. no unique construction. just branding. mid-tier fabric. not luxury textiles. not performance materials. just regular cotton, often sourced from the same suppliers as much cheaper brands.
celebrity association. This is the real product. You're not buying the hoodie. you're buying proximity to the artist, the influencer, the entertainer who slapped their name on it. And that last part? That's what you're really paying ₦500,000 - ₦1,000,000 for. Not craftsmanship. Not design. Not quality. Clout.

These brands don't seem to understand: A good number of Nigerian youth know value. They might love the celebrity. They might follow them on instagram. They might stream their music or watch their content. But when it's time to spend money? They're discerning. They can tell the difference between a well-made piece and overpriced hype. They know when they're being sold branding instead of quality. They recognize when the price tag is inflated based on name recognition, not actual value. And that's why these brands sell maybe 10% of their inventory to actual customers and send the other 90% out as PR.

Gifting to other celebrities. sending pieces to influencers creating the illusion of demand and desirability. Because if they relied on actual sales? on people willingly spending their money on these pieces? most of these brands wouldn't survive six months. 

Stolen designs. Not inspiration. Not being influenced by. Straight up copying. Nigerian streetwear brands will raid foreign brands' design catalogues from 5 years back, find graphics, typography that worked, and just... copy them. print them on their shirts. sell them for ₦450,000.
Imagine. You're not even getting inspired by patterns and reinterpreting them. You're not taking elements and making them your own. You're not creating something new that's in conversation with existing work. You're just ctrl+c, ctrl+v.

You're going through foreign brands that will not find out who you are - finding designs that already succeeded elsewhere, reproducing them and then charging premium prices for it. As if copying counts as creativity. As if theft is design. as if Nigerian consumers won't recognize a particular graphic or a palace print when they see it. The audacity is incredible. You're selling plagiarism at luxury prices. and when people call it out? "You're not the target audience." No. The target audience is people who don't know enough about streetwear history to recognize that your "original design" is actually a lifted undercover graphic from 2008.

Virgil also said: "streetwear is a term for people without resources creating something that resonates with their demographic." That's the essence of streetwear. It's a cultural expression. It's creativity born from limitation. It's making something meaningful with what you have, but Nigerian celebrity streetwear has flipped that. It's not people without resources creating something meaningful. It's people with resources (fame, money, platforms) creating something commercial. They see streetwear as a money-making opportunity. a side hustle. a way to monetize their existing fanbase. Not as a cultural contribution. Not as a creative expression. not as building something that represents a movement, a moment, a message.

just: "I'm popular, people will buy what I make, let me start a clothing brand." and the result? loud, low-quality streetwear that says nothing. contributes nothing. builds nothing. it's just merch with a higher price tag.

And yet, Nigerians are fixated on these brands. Because the person behind it is famous. Because wearing it signals that you can afford it, that you're connected, that you're part of the in-crowd. But what are you really wearing? What does the piece itself say? What cultural statement is it making?

Nothing. It's a logo. a name. a status symbol with no substance. And when you compare that to what streetwear is supposed to be, to what virgil built with off-white, to what brands like supreme or stüssy or a bathing ape represented culturally, the gap is stark. Those brands told stories. They represented subcultures. They meant something beyond the person wearing them. Nigerian celebrity streetwear? it means "i have money" or "i know this person." that's it.

Imagine if Nigerian streetwear brands actually focused on:

Storytelling. What does this collection represent? What cultural moment are you capturing? What narrative are you telling through design?
Craftsmanship. not just screen-printing logos, but experimenting with textiles, construction, techniques that showcase skill and innovation.
Accessibility. making pieces that the youth you claim to represent can actually afford. not ₦450,000 t-shirts, but thoughtfully priced pieces that don't sacrifice quality.
Cultural contribution. building something that represents nigerian creativity, not just copying western streetwear aesthetics and slapping a celebrity name on it.
Longevity. creating brands that will outlive the celebrity's current relevance. brands built on design integrity, not just fame.

That's what streetwear could be. That's what it should be. But as long as celebrity brands keep pricing high without delivering value, and as long as consumers keep buying into the hype, we're stuck with loud, low-quality streetwear that means nothing and costs everything.

If you're starting a streetwear brand: ask yourself why.
Is it because you have something to say? something to contribute culturally? or is it because you're famous and you think people will buy anything with your name on it? If it's the latter, don't. We have enough of those already. And if you're buying Nigerian streetwear: ask yourself what you're paying for.

Is it quality? design? cultural significance? Or is it just clout?
Because pricing doesn't make it luxury. A celebrity name doesn't make it valuable. and "you're not the target audience" doesn't make overpriced mediocrity acceptable.

Nigerian streetwear can be better than this. it should be better than this. But only if we stop giving these loud streetwear brands a platform and start focusing on the brands with actual value. The ones not clouded by celebrity noise. the ones doing real design work, telling real stories, building real cultural contributions. 

Because it's too early to have the industry filled with this much substandard mediocrity. Nigerian streetwear is still young. still forming. still defining itself. And if we keep rewarding copy-paste designs, celebrity clout, and overpriced basics with our attention and money, that's what the industry will become. But if we demand more, if we support brands with vision, craftsmanship, and cultural integrity, we can build something actually worth the hype.

The choice is ours.

The New York City sky turns a heavy, slate grey early these days. It is that specific time of year when the days are short, the light is scarce, and the cold bites through even the heaviest layers. Riding through the city this week, watching the winter settle in, I found myself overcome by a sudden, visceral wave of emotion.

Perhaps it is the season, or perhaps it is the inevitable reflection that comes with the end of a long year, looking at the synopsis of the last twelve months, tallying the things I have accomplished against the things left incomplete. To the outside world, I am a celebrity stylist and a fashion director. I am the person responsible for the polish and the perfection. But today, stepping into this new arena of journalism, I am stripping away the layers to speak on something that has been weighing on my spirit.

I am a person who believes fiercely in intention. In my business and my personal life, transparency is my baseline. My moral compass is the center from which every decision extends; I strive to leave a positive impact in every room I enter. But I am not perfect. I am dyslexic. I am tired. And I am realizing that in the pursuit of creating beauty for others, we often forget to extend grace to ourselves.

In the creative industry, there is a silent, pervasive assumption that if the output is beautiful, the creator must be fine. Because I dress well, because my nails and hair are done, because I am consistent in the gym and my business appears to thrive, the world assumes perfection. They assume I am a machine that runs on inspiration and requires no maintenance.

Rarely does anyone ask, "How are you?" without chasing it immediately with, "Can you do this for me?"

Too often, the question isn't even asked at all. The conversation jumps straight to the favor, the demand, the deadline. I want to speak on behalf of all creatives when I say that we are not merely engines of production. We are people. We live, we breathe, and we have lives outside of the things we make.

We need to fundamentally shift how we view talent. We must stop viewing creatives as disposable commodities or vending machines for ideas. It takes an immense amount of spiritual and physical energy to produce something that has never existed before. To see a vision in your mind, bring it to fruition, monetize it, and build a life around it is a feat of endurance. It is a specific kind of labor that only we can do, yet the infrastructure rarely supports the human doing the work.

Many of us do not have the safety net of corporate jobs with built-in healthcare. There is no "off" switch in this life. We rarely disconnect because there is no time card to punch. Even when we try to take a moment to breathe, our phones are often blown up by texts and emails demanding immediate attention, blurring the lines between our livelihood and our sanity.

I want to urge us all to build a habit of pausing. Before you put unnecessary pressure on the next creative you work with, or any human being, for that matter, ask yourself what they might be carrying. In this industry, we often spend more time with our business relationships than we do with our own blood families. These relationships matter. But we must remember that the person on the other end of that email is a mother, a brother, a sister, a father, a daughter.

Sometimes, a slow response has nothing to do with you. It might mean that person is feeling unsafe, overwhelmed, or is simply having a human moment that they don't feel free to share. There is a terrifying fear in our industry that if we admit we are struggling, if we admit we are having an off week or month, we will be deemed "unstable." We worry that our livelihood is at risk if the mask slips. We feel forced to choose between being professional and being honest. This needs to stop.

As we look toward the future and prepare for the years ahead, I am asking for a return to humanity. I am asking you to look past what a person can do for you and see the person standing there. We all deserve time to be in a safe space. We all need a minute to decompress.

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Picture Credits: @yb_captures

In an era defined by hyper curated trends and "follow the leader" mentalities, Gunna has emerged as a rare outlier: an artist standing firmly on his own, rebuilding his brand with a level of intentionality that feels more like a movement than a marketing strategy. As the North American leg of his Wun World Tour officially reached its peak this December, the narrative surrounding Gunna has shifted. He is no longer just a musician, he is the architect of a complete transformation across mind, body, and creative spirit.

The rebrand didn't start on a stage; it started within. Gunna's physical transformation, a journey of health and discipline, served as the catalyst for his mental evolution. He has traded the chaotic energy of the past for a lifestyle rooted in "conscious elevation." Whether discussing his views on relationships or his artistic legacy, he now speaks with a groundedness that reflects a man in total control of his story.

This isn't just about fitness; it's about a shift in frequency. By prioritizing health and maintaining a positive "spin" on his journey, his mind has followed his body's lead, creating a version of Gunna that is more focused, present, and, as 2025 has proven, simply unstoppable.

Nowhere was this evolution more apparent than the tour's massive stop in Los Angeles at the YouTube Theater. For Gunna, LA wasn't just another date on the calendar; it was a bridge building moment. The curation was intentional, bringing together global forces to show the breadth of his influence:

• The Global Bridge: Bringing out Asake highlighted Gunna's deep connection to the Afrobeats movement, proving his sound resonates on a global scale.
• The Hometown Vibe: Inviting LA native Wiz Khalifa grounded the high concept show in West Coast royalty, creating a "perfect composition" of complementary artists.

For those on the ground in Inglewood, the experience felt less like a concert and more like a cinematic event. Photographer Sean Muniz described the production as a "movie," noting that the set design was "insane." Departing from the standard empty stage, the production featured multiple interactive levels and rugged features. In a moment of pure theatrical tenacity, the team even integrated a dancer on a pole screwed directly into a massive "rock" feature on stage.

This immersive approach turned the arena into a living, breathing world, showcasing what can happen when a close knit team is on one accord. As the curtains fall on the North American leg, moving from the sold-out energy of Los Angeles to the final dates in the Pacific Northwest, the results speak for themselves. Between the community building Wunna Run Club 5K series and a setlist that deftly balanced "Drip Too Hard" classics with the soulful depth of his latest album, One of Wun, Gunna has successfully navigated his way to the top.

With the international leg heading to global markets in early 2026, the world is about to see what happens when an artist refuses to be stopped. If 2025 was the year of the rebuild, 2026 is shaping up to be the year of the reign.

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Picture Credits: @seanietsunami300

From meeting as young artists to sharing stages around the world, the energy of Scotts Maphuma and LeeMckrazy has always been undeniable. Whether you hear "Bathini bona" or "Bare ke LeemecKe!", you know that what you are going to get is going to be something special.

The two music sensations have dominated the Amapiano scene since they first met, and this year was no different. 2025 has seen the two continue to thrive, with their presence across various tracks, including 'Nakupenda', 'Sya'Waver', ‘HAMBA NABO', 'Ngibolekeni to 'Jealousy 'Ba Rata Monate' and' Zama Zama', just a few of the songs they have been part of. 

Their earliest collaborations came around the time when they met before either of their careers had taken off, where they would be in studios with the likes of Mellow and Sleazy and would be in camps alongside Cowboii making music together, the time in which songs like 'Bayazi' were made. Since then, they have maintained a relationship that has proven highly fruitful, extending beyond music to include them as people and individuals who are similar. "I think the reason we work well together and get on is because of our similar ways of growing up. Since we're both from the dusty streets of the township, and we share almost the same stories,  we understood each other fast." Scotts says about their relationship as people and what brings them together as collaborators. 

Comparisons have long existed between the two in their friendship and in how people view their music as individual artists. However, for both, this is neither something they feed into nor something that affects them. "We understand, and we know that we are two different brands, but we are on the same team, so you can't actually fight your teammate all the time. The goal is for both of us to win; it's a healthy competition for us." They share with me how they feel about the need to compare and pit people against one another. 

This year, their international influence grew, with two consecutive sold-out performances of their first UK headline shows in Birmingham and London, cementing their status as rising global talents. In this moment, we celebrate them as part of the new school of Amapiano artists who continue to push the genre forward. As individuals, they bring their own flair; together, they create something that stands out. There have always been talks, and the question has always been asked: when, if ever, will we get a combined project from the two, which, rightly so, feels like something fans and audiences would appreciate. Again, neither of them has missed this. However, in this context, it's all about timing. "We are just waiting for the right time to drop a joint project. We're excited to share new music with our fans and will announce it as soon as everything is set." Scotts shares with me.

The timing is essential, especially after a busy year for both of them. LeeMck released Krazyway (Agent 2.0) and his joint project with Khalil Harrison, SkeemSam. Meanwhile, Scotts dropped his recently released EP Piato (Chapter 1). The two of them are certainly putting in their hours and solidifying their contributions to the Amapiano genre. As we continue to track the genre and its evolution, this year has seen a shift: increased popularity has led to the emergence of 3-Step, which grew significantly throughout the year. Not to mention the constant evolution of experimenting with different elements in the mix. The roles that both ScottsMaphuma and LeeMckrazy play are notable, as they represent the new school of piano artists alongside their counterparts, including Cowboii and Mellow & Sleazy, who have also continued to bring a different flair to the scene. This is also reflected in where the sound is now. "Amapiano is very much bigger than us now, and the only thing that's gonna keep it moving is if we keep on working together. The sounds we make, the way we collaborate with other artists, can only continue to go." 

The results will continue to show in the years to come; however, this year is also a clear indicator that neither of them has plans to stop anytime soon. With an international focus, they plan to spread their message worldwide, taking the stage across Africa, Europe, and beyond. From what we have seen, this is more than achievable for them, and it is more than just about being able to do it and saying you did; it is also about seeing how far they can go and where they can reach. "We're looking at international collaborations, you know, because as an artist you need to spread your wings and see how far you can go," LeeMck says when speaking to where they see the next phase of their career going. 

As we speak, what exactly makes their ability to work together so successful is clear: the amount of respect they have for each other. Beyond being two of the buzzing Amapiano artists of the moment, there is a friendship that exists between them, and with that comes a level of respect that they have for each other, which is evident even as you see them together outside of the context of performing. Their camaraderie is what keeps them going as collaborators, driving them to do their best for themselves and for each other. "We believe in working together and loving what we do." Scotts shares on what makes them come together as collaborators. Their individual backgrounds in the genre contribute to this, as they bring different perspectives to the tale. For LeeMck, who began performing in choirs at a young age, his love of music grew there before he ventured into other forms. And for Scotts, who has always been a rhythm person and used to dance a lot, he infuses that energy and those vibes into his sound. You can see how it works for both of them in their current positions. 

The two met at a gig they were both booked to perform at, cementing a friendship and collaboration that has blossomed over the years. Not just as a pair when it comes to the sounds of "Bathini bona" or "Bare ke LeemecKe!", but also as individual artists, there is no doubt that their presence and contributions will continue to thrive, whether together or apart. 

Credits 
Photographer: Oulayma Conteh @ikuollie
Creative Director: CO.ZA / @Kosi_s
Producer: Seneo Mwamba @seneomwamba
Lighting: Seyi Opesan @jimmysjpeg
Production Assistant: Whitney Sanni @its.whit_
Brand PR:  @suurmgmt
Design: @shalemalone
CGI: @jr_ecko
Writer: Seneo Mwamba @seneomwamba
Special thanks: @sonymusic @taponeswa

Nigerian-British poet, filmmaker, and photographer Caleb Femi’s debut collection, POOR, has already left an undeniable mark on contemporary poetry. Femi, the first Young People’s Laureate for London, saw the book first published in the UK in 2020. The book went on to win the Forward Prize for Best First Collection and received widespread critical acclaim, appearing on multiple year-end best-of lists across British media. Now, with the release of its American edition set for January 27th 2026, POOR enters a new phase of its life.  

Deeds Magazine sat down with Femi to unfold the layers of youth, masculinity, and survival in South London that shaped POOR, and to consider how the work resonates in conversation with American literary traditions.

Caleb, welcome back! We were last in New York for the launch party of The Wickedest, when you mentioned working on five things at once. Before we unfold the US release of your debut, tell us, in your own words, what have you been up to over the past year?
I remember that night in New York fondly. Since The Wickedest launch, life has been a whirlwind of creativity. Over the past year I’ve been fully focused on getting my concept hub SLOGhouse off the ground. SLOGhouse is a creative space – a kind of ideas laboratory – where my team and I take concepts from a spark of inspiration through to full realisation. Most importantly, like everyone else in these challenging times, I've been learning how to breathe and find balance in a world that sometimes makes it difficult.

I remember how I felt when POOR was first introduced in the UK, and now reading it again, it is almost like revisiting an old friend. After five years and numerous awards, why do you believe it is important, now more than ever, for this work to be brought back to light and to an American audience?
It’s amazing to think it’s been five years since Poor first came out. Back in 2020, the book spoke to a moment and a place but the core themes have only grown more resonant since then. In the years that followed, we’ve all lived through some pretty seismic changes: a global pandemic, a louder global conversation about racial injustice, and ongoing struggles with inequality. Poor was always about giving voice to experiences of community, race, class, and hope within hardship. Now, more than ever, those conversations are alive worldwide, including in America.

Bringing Poor to an American audience at this moment feels timely and important because the themes in it aren’t just British – they’re universal. I want Poor to reach people who might see their own stories reflected or at least gain insight into lives that mirror struggles in their own cities. The issues of disenfranchised youth, of finding joy and magic in tough circumstances, of grappling with the legacy of structural inequality – these are as relevant in Chicago or New York as they are in London. Sharing Poor with American readers now, after it’s matured and gathered energy over five years, is like reopening a dialogue. My hope is that it sparks fresh discussions and connections in a context that, while different, has its own very similar echoes of the world I wrote about.

Looking back, I’m sure you feel as though you were a completely different person in 2020. If not, then at least a younger version of yourself. What is apparent to you now that wasn’t then?
The Caleb who wrote Poor in 2020 was hungry to express a very specific slice of life – I poured my heart into capturing my youth in Peckham, the pain and beauty of it. Now, five years on, I can say I’ve grown and my perspective has broadened. One big thing that’s apparent to me now, which I maybe didn’t fully grasp back then, is that there are even more wonderful things in the world to experience than I had imagined. Back then I thought I understood the breadth of life – the struggles and the joys – but traveling, meeting people from all over, and pushing myself into new creative arenas has shown me that my world is so much larger than I thought it was.

That perspective keeps me humble and excited for what’s next.

When I spent time in New York this summer, I was struck by how differently readers interact with books compared to Europe. Here, literature feels deeply community-based – from bookstore bars to book clubs and retreats. In Harlem, for example, you’ll come across authors who take to the streets not only to sell copies but also to interact directly with their surroundings. With that in mind, American readers are encountering POOR in a different cultural context. What conversations do you hope the book sparks here that might be distinct from those in the UK?
That’s a fascinating observation, and it gets me excited about Poor finding a home in this different literary ecosystem. Honestly, the conversations it might spark in the US are the great unknown that I’m really looking forward to discovering. Every community will interpret a story through its own lens. In the UK, Poor sparked conversations about council estates, youth clubs, and the specific dynamics of London’s changing neighbourhoods. In the US, I hope readers will bring Poor into their own community contexts – maybe it’ll resonate with people in the Bronx, South Side Chicago, or Oakland in ways that I can’t fully predict. I’m eager to see the book take on a new life with new layers and intersections in America.

One thing I’ve always intended with Poor is for it to be a conversation starter rather than a prescriptive statement. The book was meant to be part of a trans-global conversation about the experiences of marginalised communities, not a didactic text that tells people what to think. I didn’t write it to control or shape anyone’s narrative. I wrote it to share a piece of my world and invite others to share theirs in response. So if American readers start discussing parallels between Peckham and, say, Brooklyn or Detroit – or even if they debate differences – that’s fantastic. I hope Poor inspires people to talk to each other about their own communities. The best outcome is if it encourages community storytelling, people saying, “This reminds me of my neighbourhood,” or asking, “How do our experiences overlap or diverge?” Those are the organic, grassroots conversations I’m excited to see unfold.

POOR touches on subjects of belonging, grief, boyhood and much more. In your opinion, are there aspects of the American experience or literary scene that mirror the world you depict in POOR?
Absolutely. Even though Poor is grounded in the specifics of South London, it asks readers to zoom out and consider the collective experiences of working-class cities throughout the West. Many American cities share the same stories at their core. The book is, in many ways, an indictment of the same forces that shape urban life in America: the legacy of colonialism, the grinding gears of capitalism, and how those play out in architecture and environment.

Within Poor, everything is filtered through the framework of Black youth culture in a London estate. But if you strip away the place-names, the essence could be the story of kids in any number of American cities. There’s a shared resilience and creativity I’ve seen in both British and American youth communities. Hip-hop was born in the Bronx and found an echo in London’s rap scene – young people on both sides of the Atlantic use music, style, and language in similar ways to survive the concrete jungle. So yes, the American experience has many mirrors to what I write about. Readers in the U.S. will see parallels in the systemic challenges, things like over-policing, underfunded schools, or gentrification, and they’ll also recognise the joy and vibrancy that come with making the best of limited resources. The U.S. literary scene has long grappled with these themes too, so I think Poor enters a conversation American writers and readers are already engaged in, reinforcing that these struggles and triumphs transcend any one city or country.

British and American poetry traditions share a lineage but often speak in different cadences. What, if anything, do you admire or absorb from U.S. poets past or present?
I’ve always felt that I’m in conversation with poets from everywhere, and American poets have been a huge influence on me. In fact, in Poor I directly nod to a few American voices that mean a lot to me. I quote lines from poets like Joshua Bennett, Claudia Rankine, Nate Marshall, and Terrance Hayes within the book. Each of these writers brings something unique that I admire. 

There’s a long history of British writers finding new meaning for their work when it reaches America, from Baldwin’s time in Paris to grime artists performing in New York. Have you felt that same sense of reinterpretation or renewal while bringing POOR across the Atlantic?
Yes, absolutely. Even as Poor is just now formally releasing in the U.S., I’ve already felt a kind of renewal in the process of bringing it here. It’s a bit like hearing a song you wrote being covered by someone else – you suddenly pick up on different notes. When I share poems from Poor with American audiences, I notice they react to things in ways that London audiences might not, and that in turn makes me see my own work differently. Certain references or slang that are commonplace in South London might prompt curiosity or a fresh understanding here. That reminds me that literature lives and breathes differently depending on where it lands.

If POOR began as a love letter to South London, what kind of letter does its U.S. release feel like now? A conversation, an invitation, or maybe a continuation of something larger between two creative worlds?
I’d say the U.S. release of Poor feels less like a single letter and more like I’ve entered into an ongoing conversation, one that crosses the ocean. It’s as if that love letter to South London has grown up and found a pen pal overseas. When Poor was just in the UK, it was my intimate message to my home. Now, bringing it to America, it feels like I’m opening that message up and saying, “Alright, your turn, how does this resonate with you, and what can you tell me about your home in return?” So it’s definitely a two-way conversation. American readers will bring their own experiences to it, so the book becomes an invitation to dialogue.

It’s also a continuation of a larger dialogue that’s long existed between creative communities in the UK and the US. We’re often grappling with similar core questions – like how we got here as a generation and where we go next. The release of Poor here adds another voice to that transatlantic discussion. It’s adding a London perspective into American narratives, and in doing so, it carries forward a shared story about working-class life, inequality, art, and hope on both sides of the pond.

When American readers land on the final page of POOR and close the book, what do you hope stays with them from literally a chapter of your life? Is it a feeling, a question, or maybe a kind of recognition?
More than anything, I hope they walk away with a sense of recognition – a feeling that, even if the specifics of my life in South London are different from their own story, there’s a common human heartbeat between us. Whether a reader is a young person in Atlanta or an elder in Seattle, I want them to recognise some part of themselves or someone they know in these pages. That recognition can breed empathy: maybe someone from a very different background finishes the book and feels like they’ve lived a bit of my life, or sees their neighbours’ struggles in a new light. That would mean a lot to me.

I also hope there’s a feeling of catharsis. Poor doesn’t shy away from grief, anger, or loss. I delve into painful memories and the weight of injustice, but I do it to unearth those emotions and share them. If a reader goes through those poems and feels a release then it’s done one of its most important jobs. And tied to that catharsis, I’d love if readers feel a surge of invigoration, a kind of inspired momentum to keep moving forward. Despite the heavy themes, Poor is also about hope and resilience, about finding magic in the margins. So ideally, closing the book leaves someone not in despair but galvanised, asking themselves what they can do in their own world or simply feeling less alone in their fight. Whether it’s a question about societal change or just the subtle uplift of having been understood, I want that final note to energise them. In essence, I hope Poor gives its readers a mix of recognition, relief, and resolve.

My final question is more out of curiosity on my end: out of all the photographs accompanying your poems, what led you to choose the nail clipper for the cover? And what does it signify to you?
Ah, the golden nail clipper, I love this question. That nail clipper is a humble, everyday object, something virtually everyone owns or has used. In the homes I grew up around (and certainly in my own household), a nail cutter was a staple item you’d find in a drawer or bathroom shelf. It’s mundane and ordinary, and that’s partly why I was drawn to it. I wanted the cover image of Poor to be immediately relatable – something anyone might recognise and have a memory of. At the same time, the nail clipper being gold is intentional.

For me, the gold nail clipper hints at finding luxury or value in the everyday. In communities that are economically poor, there’s still a rich sense of style and pride. People might not have much, but they often have one object that brings a bit of sparkle, a little symbol of aspiration or taste. A nail clipper works the same whether it’s gold-plated or plain steel, and that’s the point: making it gold doesn’t change its function, but it speaks to our desire for beauty and status, even in small things. So that image encapsulates a lot of what Poor is about, ordinary people with big dreams. It’s an everyday tool dressed up like treasure. I thought that was a fitting emblem for the book, and I hoped it would make people pause, maybe smile, and think about the mix of hardship and hope inside.

Related articles:
Exploring ‘The Wickedest’ at Caleb Femi’s Book Launch in NYC
3 Poetry Books You Should Read This Black History Month

To describe the atmosphere in the O2 Shepards Academy as electric feels like an understatement. That vibrant energy set the tone for Destin Conrad’s Love On Digital tour as it made its way to London before closing out in Manchester.​

The R&B song took to the stage in a maroon jumpsuit with black gloves and black shades, exuding full superstar vibes before entertaining the crowd for an hour and a half. The audience's energy was electric, singing along passionately to hits from his debut album and previous EPs, creating an immersive concert experience.

​The last time Destin took to the stage in London was in 2024, as part of his Submissive tour, playing two nights at Camden's KOKO and making an appearance at the Recipe Festival. Returning to this moment, it feels like a significant step forward in his journey. With nobody else on stage besides his two-piece band, he brought everything to the stage, showcasing his development.​

Before taking the stage, he was joined by Mack Keane and CARi, who served as the opening acts, warming up the crowd. CARI delivered a 30-minute set playing songs from her debut EP FLUX, including the tracks “Luvhiii”, Colder in June”, Bleeding”, as well as a cover of Ne-Yo’s “Closer”.

Opening the show with Mr E Destin, who performed several of his songs, the audience was fully engaged, singing along word for word. Moments of the show included album favourite “BAD BITCHES” which had the crowd singing at the top of their lungs, along with other hits like “JUMPIN”, "THE LAST TIME”, "DELUSSIONAL”, "PBS”, as well as “ ITS ONLY YOU”, "OUTTA CONTROL”, "BILL$ “, and "SAME MISTAKE”. Destin, who clearly appreciates London, was treated to not one but two guest appearances from friends kwn, who performed her EP standout “Do What I Say”, and Sasha Keable, who joined him fortheir track “AUCTION”.

​All in all, Destin’s show showcased his current position in the R&B space, as he delivered a well-worth-seeing performance of his GRAMMY Award-nominated album and let people know he has a lot more in store for where he is going. 

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It’s something of a paradox: even as the year slowly grinds to a halt, as the drudgery of work slowly starts to give way to the lassitude of the festive season, the pop machine keeps churning at an even greater intensity. This week in pop culture, as usual, has brought a flurry of sizzling hot topics, many of which satisfy our primal desire for entertainment. But beyond this, many of the issues in this installment function as public reckonings of sorts, asking, urging, prodding us to ponder the society we live in. The welter of criticism lobbed at Timothy Chalamet is one such topic, bringing to the fore the internet’s tendency for mindless antagonism. Following a speech in which he praised his performances over the past few years, a critical mass of people began to call for him to show more humility. Others have been less charitable and have taken to calling him names. What’s especially confounding about this incident is that his charisma is what initially inspired his feverish following. 

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In this installment of PopTakes, I also interrogate and share my thoughts on an array of topics including the new Diddy series, the controversy stirred by an essay Charlie XCX published on her Substack, as well as others.

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The Internet Reacts To The New Diddy Series

In the past year, we have collectively watched, with a mix of shock and disdain, as details on the range of crimes committed by Sean “Diddy” Combs have unraveled. The disgraced rapper and music business mogul is currently serving a sentence of four years and two months after being convicted of transporting individuals for prostitution. In the months leading to his conviction, countless clips revealing troubling behavior from Diddy surfaced on the internet, including one where we see him assault and drag Cassie Ventura, his long-term former partner, down a lobby. And yet, this new documentary—Sean Combs: The Reckoning—still manages to deal a heavy blow to whatever’s left of his reputation. In an article for The Guardian, Stuart Heritage writes: “Sean Combs: The Reckoning feels like the moment of no return for him. It does such a thorough job of laying out and backing up so many horrific allegations that his way back to stardom is surely blocked forever.”

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Diddy’s disgraced situation notwithstanding, some have still found ways to fawn over him. In a now-deleted tweet, popular Nigerian streamer and internet personality Shank Comics writes: “What I admire about Diddy is his perspective on the grind. His mind. The way it evolves. It's crazy! That was his talent. The ability to change or adapt. He just got lost in the pursuit of power.” After facing intense backlash, he summarily disavowed the tweet. “To be absolutely clear, I do not admire, support, or defend him in any way,” he writes in the statement. In the blitz of takes and counterpoints that have attended the release of the docuseries, my personal favorite has been a tweet, now-deleted by the way, which says something to the effect of Black people having exposed Diddy and R Kelly and that white people need to do the same with the Epstein files. 

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Social Media Picks Apart Charlie XCX’s Substack Essay

Everyone who really knows British Alt-Pop singer Charlie XCX knows she teems with ideas, interesting ones. Hardly a few minutes pass in an interview before she begins pulling at the frays of an exciting topic, displaying her characteristic iconoclasm. So her literary debut—if we can call it that—was in a sense only a matter of time. This week she posted on X an essay she titled The Death of Cool, in which she contends that coolness and commercial appeal are mutually exclusive. Put differently, she argues that one can be cool and popular. When the post popped up on my feed that Tuesday evening, I bookmarked it with the intention of reading at a more convenient time. That plan was disrupted prematurely when I began to notice hateful tweets about the essay. Contradictory, poorly edited, solipsistic, and self-serving are some adjectives her critics deployed. 

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To determine if these critiques, however scathing, were warranted I hastily dove into the piece. Many of the sentences are hard to follow. Mostly because they run for so long and fail to incorporate proper punctuation. Some of the arguments she makes are either repetitive or contradictory. And yet, the essay is both exciting and insightful. Her premise—you can be cool and popular—holds. Meanwhile, the punctuation problems can easily be corrected by an editor. What I find problematic is the public’s tendency to withhold grace from people and monomaniacally focus on the negatives as opposed to giving balanced opinions. 

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Is Timothy Chalamet Proud or Confident?

My answer to the titular question is “Who cares?” For a while now Timothy Chalamet has been on an electric press tour promoting Marty Supreme, a sports comedy-drama film produced by Josh Safdie. In it, Chalamet plays the lead character Marty Mauser, an aspiring ping pong champion. In an interview released this week, Chalamet waxes lyrically about his performance in the film. “This is probably my best performance, you know, and it’s been like seven, eight years that I’ve been handing in really, really committed top-of-the-line performances. And it’s important to say it out loud because the discipline and the work ethic I’m bringing to these things — I don’t want people to take it for granted. I don’t want to take it for granted. This is really some top-level shit.” Apparently, this rubbed many the wrong way, hence the allegations of conceit. A similar incident transpired in the wake of his Oscar reception where he said “I’m really in pursuit of greatness.” For some reason, people seem to be triggered when artists don’t put up the expected facade of meekness, which speaks volumes about the kind of society we live in today—one that prizes authenticity only when it's subject to our whims or preferences.

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When we think about brand campaigns, we think of innovation, intrigue, and psychology, as well as other pragmatic strategies that enthuse customers to think and feel a certain way. The competitive nature of branding and the unpredictability of customer proclivities often force brands to create strategic and innovative ways to attract and sustain customer loyalty. These strategies don’t always work, but when they do, they bring unparalleled results that emphatically justify the time and resources invested. Below, we look at some of the various episodes of marketing ingenuity that propelled brand images to global reach and cultural relevance. We look at the brand campaigns that actually worked.  

1. Spotify Wrapped:
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Spotify had an idea that eventually became a requisite annual activity for music lovers around the world. By compiling and curating user data into distinct, alluring categories such as “You’re in the top 0.5% of listeners” or “Your music personality is…”, Spotify found a way to effectively harness the interplay between identity, culture, and user data. Essentially, the brand found a way to compel listeners to actively engage with the app through massive organic channels, requiring little to no ad spend. The rationale behind this campaign is simple but effective—prospective and passive users are nudged through social online pressure: a compulsion to follow the crowd or be part of a distinctive, provisional social trend.

The ingenuity behind this campaign goes beyond branding theory and behavioural psychology; it also cuts across user-friendly interfaces and engineering predicated on making distribution channels seamless and carefully optimised for sharing across multiple social media platforms. The Spotify Wrapped campaign has managed to empathetically embed Spotify as an annual highlight in pop culture, making it an intricate part of our digital ethos. For the brand, this provides a buffer to keep conversations going and a foundation on which to layer future innovations.

2. Apple – Shot on iPhone:

‍Shot on iPhone is a simple but effective, long-running global brand campaign that showcases videos and photos taken on iPhone devices, usually by everyday users. The campaign began over a decade ago and is predicated on highlighting and emphasising the iPhone’s camera quality. By centring the customer, Apple has managed to sustain and revitalise the campaign by letting the images speak for themselves.

This minimalist approach has expanded to include competitions, social media galleries, and professional creatives. The strategy earned Apple the Grand Prix for Creative Effectiveness at Cannes Lions, one of the advertising industry’s highest honours. By making customers an active part of the campaign, Apple effectively created a sense of belonging, expanding its product appeal into a symbol of creative identity.

3. McDonald’s – “Taste the Future” AR Experience:

‍This campaign reframed McDonald’s as something more futuristic, fun, and participatory. It did not require downloading a game or visiting a designated location; instead, it was embedded within packaging and in-restaurant touchpoints. With the product as the entry point, the experience felt additive and interactive rather than disruptive.

The campaign was simple: consumers scanned QR codes or AR markers that transported them into a digital world of gamified interaction. Designed to reach younger, digitally driven audiences, the experience encouraged organic social sharing through striking visuals and easy-to-share media. With this campaign, McDonald’s aligned itself with contemporary digital behaviour, subtly modernising the brand without altering what people already love.

4. Nike × SKIMS – “Bodies at Work”:

‍Nike consistently seeks collaborative experiences that further its goals of expansion, relevance, and cultural impact. In September, the brand partnered with Kim Kardashian’s SKIMS for the Bodies at Work campaign. This collaboration positioned NikeSKIMS as a chic new activewear line that blended Nike’s performance engineering with SKIMS’ aesthetic sensibility.

The appeal of the collaboration extended beyond the brand names themselves. Featuring athletes such as tennis legend Serena Williams and Olympic gymnast Jordan Chiles, the campaign made a bold cultural statement about strength, bodies, and women’s active lifestyles. By prioritising both performance and style, NikeSKIMS became a brand athletes did not just want to wear but also wanted to align with.

5. Pinterest × Emma Chamberlain – Sea Salt Toffee Coffee:

‍This campaign marked a partnership between Pinterest and Emma Chamberlain’s coffee brand, Chamberlain Coffee. It was Pinterest’s first-ever co-branded product in its 15-year history, and it proved highly successful. The flavour profile and aesthetic were inspired by the “Fisherman Aesthetic,” a visual trend combining rustic textures, coastal elements, and maritime imagery that brought the sea salt toffee concept to life.

The campaign was further amplified by Emma Chamberlain herself, who shaped much of the creative direction directly on Pinterest. By creating mood boards and visual inspiration on the platform, the campaign felt authentic and naturally aligned with Pinterest’s culture of discovery.

6. Dunkin’ × Sabrina Carpenter – Strawberry Daydream Refresher:

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‍This campaign was one of Dunkin’s standout promotional highlights of 2025. Dunkin’ partnered with singer-actress Sabrina Carpenter to create a limited-time summer beverage called Sabrina’s Strawberry Daydream Refresher.

The accompanying commercial took a different aesthetic approach. Rather than a straightforward, typical advertisement, it was a quirky, retro-style piece starring Carpenter as a “Daydream Matchmaker.” Dunkin’ leveraged Carpenter’s substantial Gen Z and millennial fan base, fuelling ongoing brand buzz and affinity. The experience was made participatory through the “Daydream Hotline,” where fans could call a number to hear a message from Sabrina and receive an exclusive promo code.

By embedding additional elements such as merchandise, reward perks, and interactive experiences, the campaign became a compelling intersection of creative advertising and consumer engagement.

7. Louis Vuitton × Takashi Murakami Revival:

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‍ Louis Vuitton revived its illustrious partnership with Japanese artist Takashi Murakami to mark the 20th anniversary of their collaboration. The revival blended early-2000s fashion nostalgia with contemporary, next-generation aesthetics, extending its cultural relevance far beyond a typical seasonal release.

Zendaya’s involvement significantly amplified the campaign’s reach and appeal. Her presence helped position the revival as youthful and aspirational, embodying the brand’s values of boldness and global resonance. Beyond advertising, the campaign extended into immersive pop-ups featuring cafés, cinematic experiences, and collectable items, transforming the collaboration into a full cultural event.

8. Gap – Better in Denim ft. Katseye:

‍This campaign became one of the most successful fashion campaigns of 2025 by making denim culturally relevant again. Through a thoughtful mix of cultural timing, creative direction, and execution, the campaign reintroduced vintage denim styles, such as low-rise jeans, in a way that felt modern and desirable.

By leveraging Katseye’s growing cultural presence and social following, Gap infused the campaign with energy and credibility. The result was a cultural takeover, with viewership and engagement skyrocketing across multiple platforms.

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These campaigns ultimately prove that effective branding is a composite of multiple factors, including strategic partnerships, cultural awareness, market insight, and an understanding of social dynamics. For the brands that succeeded in 2025, it is clear that they did not rely on gimmicks; instead, they built experiences rooted in the genuine interests and behaviours of their audiences.

The strongest campaigns do not attempt to do everything. They do enough—turning products into experiences, audiences into collaborators, and marketing into culture. These campaigns resonated with people, and that resonance is what made them work.

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Deeds Magazine had the honor of covering Saint & Citizen two-day takeover during Art Basel Miami, and it was unlike anything I've experienced. Running from high noon until late into the night, Saint & Citizen delivered a masterclass in curation, a "fashion oasis" that felt miles away from the typical Miami hustle. It transported guests to a tropical, jungle-like sanctuary where you didn't just attend, you lingered. From the moment I arrived, the production whispered one word: Intentionality. Every aspect, from the specific curation of art on the walls to the duration of panels, down to the sonic journey of the DJ sets, was meticulously crafted. The team behind this vision understands that true luxury is found in the details.

The visionaries steering this ship are founders Paula Grant and Corey Edness (Co-founder and Chief of A&R/Creative Services). The C-suite driving this cultural vehicle includes Deondre 'Trakmatik' Collins (COO), Jareiq "JQ" Kabara (Chief Brand Officer), Marina Skye (Creative Director), and Joey Harris (Chief of Talent and Cultural Relations). These aren't just organizers, they're multi-hyphenate cultural architects who have spent years in the trenches of creativity. Their chemistry was palpable in the event's execution: seamless, vibrant, and deeply community-driven.

This year's programming was built around the theme "The Living Originals", a celebration of the artists, designers, musicians, and thinkers shaping culture right now. Giving them their flowers while they're here to smell them. Across two days of expansive programming, Saint & Citizen created a multi-sensory ecosystem where art, fashion, film, music, and design converged. In a cultural moment where audiences are starving for lineage and connection, this event responded by building a space where creators lead and communities feel anchored to something deeper.

The programming at the Rubell Museum offered a refreshing pause from the typical Basel circuit, nowhere more so than during the session with Ghanaian visual futurist Prince Gyasi. He led a thought-provoking conversation on his mission to "redraw the image of Africa for the rest of the world." For too long, the story of Africa that reaches the public has not been told by Africans. It's beautiful to witness the intentionality of this generation reclaiming that narrative, not from a place of force, but from empathy and understanding.

Gyasi's session highlighted that Africa isn't just "one thing." By sharing these stories authentically, the global scale can finally take notice and honor the rich culture and artistic visionaries emerging from the continent. The intellectual energy continued with actor Damson Idris joining choreographer Jamaal Burkmar for an intimate dialogue on storytelling and the role of film as prophecy. This depth was mirrored by celebrated South African artist Nelson Makamo, who grounded the event in legacy with a session on how memory and portraiture shape emotional landscapes.

The conversation extended into the business of creativity with industry titans Emma Grede and LaQuan Smith, who dissected the nuances of cultural capital and the future of American luxury.

If the panels were the mind of the event, the music was its heartbeat. The reunion of Pusha T and Malice (The Clipse) was something far greater than a performance, it was a cultural reset. Seeing them on stage together was nostalgic, intentional, and undeniably powerful. The Clipse aren't just a rap group, they are fashion, they are visionaries, they are two individuals with something profound to say. Their impact spreads across different genres, races, and ages, and seeing them reunited reminded us that their art brings everyone together.

The energy remained high with global producer Kaytranada, who delivered a genre-blending set of house, funk, and hip-hop. Progressive R&B artist KWN took command of the main stage with a soulful performance of "Worst Behaviour," while DJ Spinall closed out the weekend by turning the venue into a massive dance circle. His high-energy, cross-continental set moved from Afrobeat to electronic, keeping the crowd locked in until the house lights finally came up.

Saint & Citizen is more than an event, it's a movement. It's a place that feels like home, where there's something for everyone to feel connected. You walk away feeling a richness, empowered to be more intentional in your own story and in every aspect of your life. It's a reminder that you don't have to wait for Art Basel to find this feeling, every day can feel like Saint & Citizen, wherever you're from.

Photographs by Danaér MENSAH @danaerxy

Picture this: a perfect 85-degree Miami night. Walking up to the venue on South Beach, the entrance was lined with Maseratis, Bugattis, and Bentleys, flanked by a fleet of black trucks. The marble structure set the tone before I even stepped inside. Descending into the plush, dimly lit space, the atmosphere hit immediately. Everyone dressed in their finest, champagne flowing, handcrafted Swiss timepieces glinting under low lights. This wasn't a typical industry gathering, it felt like an exclusive concert or private gala, high-energy and effortlessly luxurious.

Luxury Swiss watchmaker Hublot took over the legendary Basement at The Miami Beach EDITION to close out Miami Art Week and celebrate the 20th Anniversary of the iconic Big Bang. The evening proved these watches aren't just timepieces, they're a lifestyle, a status symbol, an accessory that elevates any look.

The energy shifted when the night's headliner took the stage. 50 Cent is one of those artists who always delivers, and he didn't disappoint. He performed wearing a bespoke, one-of-one Hublot timepiece created specifically for him, featuring unique colors honoring his character in the upcoming Street Fighter film, a gold chess piece topping the dial (a nod to his Le Chemin du Roi champagne), and "50 Cent" engraved on the caseback. The ultimate flex: art and horology combined.

What stood out most was how Hublot captured a very specific vibe, blending raw, urban edge with sleek, sophisticated polish. The brand isn't afraid to take risks, mastering the ability to fuse two different audiences and create an entirely new lane. The result is watches with beautiful, vibrant colors that never lose their timeless, finely crafted feel. Hublot is one of the few brands that can accomplish this mix so seamlessly.

This philosophy was on full display with the unveiling of the Big Bang Street Art Collection. Available in four striking colorways and powered by the in-house Meca-10 movement, the watches feature cases made of composite concrete with "cracks" filled with UV-reactive luminescence, the perfect physical representation of the brand's DNA: bold and artistic, yet engineered to perfection.

Notable attendees including Khalid, Marco Donatelli, Pepe Garcia, Leon Bridges, Diplo, Swae Lee, Ty Dolla $ign, and Sofi Tukker moved through the crowd, proving Hublot's audience is as diverse as it is influential.

It was a refined escape from the usual hustle of the Wynwood Art Basel circuit. Hublot successfully transported that vibrant audience to the elegance of Miami Beach, merging two distinct worlds into one seamless experience. As the night wound down with MEDUZA on the decks, one thing was clear: Hublot continues to redefine what luxury watchmaking can be—unapologetically bold, impeccably crafted, and always unexpected.

Photographs by Bolanle Adebomi @signedlanle @lanlespov

For nearly two decades, YouTube has been an undeniable force in the global export of African music, collapsing borders, building communities, and amplifying voices through the power of visual storytelling. As African music continues its worldwide ascent, I sat down with Addy Awofisayo, Head of Music for Sub-Saharan Africa at Google and YouTube, to unpack her behind-the-scenes role, the shifting dynamics of Africa's global influence, and what she believes lies ahead for the continent's creative economy.

Awofisayo's work sits at the intersection of culture, technology, and advocacy. Her mandate is simple yet expansive: to champion African music, elevate its creators, and strengthen the continent's creative ecosystem across YouTube and the wider Google network.
"I work across Google's music ecosystem to ensure that artists, songwriters, producers, labels, collection societies, and others see YouTube as their platform of choice, or at least one of the platforms they rely on to share and amplify their creative work," she explains.

When asked what pulled her into the media space, she smiles, almost as though the answer has been waiting her whole life.
"I think for me, it didn't even start with music. I was fascinated by storytelling, and I was fascinated by the creative space. As a kid, I loved Tales by Moonlight (a classic NTA TV show). I never missed it, wherever I was, I always found a way to watch it. But I never really saw it as a career.

"I started in finance at Microsoft for about five years, then pivoted to healthcare consulting, then to public policy. And it was within public policy that I started getting introduced to media, and media as a policy area. I became fascinated by what you can do in the media and entertainment space. That's when I realized, oh, I can channel my storytelling passion and also create a system for creatives that allows them to thrive, that allows their stories to get out there."

Addy is a lifelong music lover, driven by a passion for storytelling, but her journey did not begin at YouTube. She moved across disciplines: finance, healthcare, policy, media, before stepping fully into the creative space. In her words:
"I was always curious about the space, about the creative economy, the intellectual curiosity about how the space came to be—how people monetize, how people own their content, their IP. I just kept learning and growing my knowledge, surrounding myself with people already in the space who were doing well. I was working with the YouTube Music team whenever an opportunity showed up, even though that wasn't my role. My role was non-music. My role was YouTube Creator Ecosystem."

Today, Awofisayo is a defining influence behind some of the biggest African concert livestreams on YouTube, from Burna Boy's historic sold out night at Madison Square Garden to Rema, Wizkid, and Asake's landmark O2 Arena performances. I ask her what drives these projects.

She leans in. "When Burna Boy sold out Madison Square Garden, there was so much noise online, but if you weren't there physically, you couldn't grasp the magnitude. I thought, This moment shouldn't be confined to the walls of MSG. People deserved to experience it."
At the time, livestreaming wasn't common among African artists. "Most artists saw YouTube as a place to upload music videos or behind-the-scenes clips. Meanwhile, artists in the US and Latin America were livestreaming major concerts. I kept wondering, why isn't this happening for Africa?"

She pitched the idea to Burna Boy's team. "It was all 'maybes.' Maybe it would create excitement. Maybe it would build FOMO for his next show. But they believed in the idea, and it changed everything. Not only did you have the people at Madison Square Garden experiencing it, you had millions of people globally experiencing it and talking about it. There was just a greater appreciation for the art, for the culture, and for the space."

We further discussed where African music stands globally today, and what comes next for the continent.
"There are two examples I use: K-Pop and Latin music. Seeing how far those genres have come, but also understanding the data—what helped those genres get even bigger is that people from their home markets have easy access to the music. The hindrance we have in Africa is that we still don't have a lot of people online. A lot of people are not yet on digital platforms. So even though streaming is a thing now, we are barely scratching the surface when it comes to Africa.

"When that barrier breaks and more people from the home countries of these artists can stream their music, that's when we're going to see a big boom, more appreciation, more monetization, more tours, and more opportunities for artists.

When asked about the toughest part of her work, Awofisayo doesn't hesitate. "Infrastructure," she says plainly. "Our market just isn't ripe enough. We're not there yet in terms of infrastructure, regulation, and the policies needed to support the creative economy or IP."

"That makes it really challenging for creatives on the continent who are trying to grow and build an audience. For instance, with internet barriers, you can't reach as many people in your home country. So to monetize digitally, you have to start thinking about your export audience because that's where your money will come from."

An example she gives is live events: "Even down to attending shows, it's hard for people to pay a high ticket price because you're only tapping into a fraction of the market. So when people say, 'Why not make it free or discounted?' Well, if you do that, how are you supposed to put on a great show? How do you pay the right cameraman, videographer, editor? It becomes a whole industry and infrastructural issue."

So how does YouTube help dismantle the idea of Africa as a monolith?
"YouTube gives everyone a voice," she says. "Someone in Uganda can tell their own story and show the world what being Ugandan looks like. Ultimately, the responsibility lies with us, Africans, to tell our stories the way we want them to be seen. We must be the ones pushing our narrative."

As the year winds down, I ask Addy what she hopes African artists focus on moving forward.
First, she emphasizes sonic identity. "There is so much diversity in African music, our beats, our tones, our instruments. Artists should lean into that. That's what makes us distinct. When you hear Latin music or K-Pop, you immediately recognize it. African music has that same richness. Really showing that off is important because that's what makes us unique. We shouldn't be afraid to tap into what makes us distinct."

Then she turns to collaboration. "I love what collaborations have done for African music. They allow artists to tap into new fan bases and introduce global audiences to our sound. Look at Rema and Selena Gomez, or Ayra Starr and Rauw Alejandro, these collaborations expand fan bases, open new markets, and introduce more people to African music who otherwise may not have encountered it.

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Ayobami Ogungbe is reclaiming narrative through thread, image, and texture. The Lagos based multi-disciplinary artist weaves together photography, traditional basket-weaving techniques, and collage to create visual stories that honor his coastal hometown of Badagry.

Ogungbe's practice is an act of remembrance and resistance. By incorporating indigenous weaving methods passed down through generations of Badagry's coastal communities, he creates a contemporary visual language that bridges past and present. His work asks us to reconsider what we know about West African history and whose stories have been centered, in the telling, or silenced. Through his art, Ogungbe is ensuring that the contributions of indigenous peoples are no longer footnotes but central chapters in our understanding of Nigerian and West African identity.

Tell us about yourself and your artistic practice.
My name is Ayobami Ogungbe, and I'm a multi-disciplinary artist from Lagos, Nigeria. My work combines photography, weaving, and collage techniques to tell stories about my community.

I picked up photography as a Mass Communication student at The University of Benin, studying photojournalism. Weaving, I picked up from the culture of my hometown, Badagry, being a coastal town, the people wove baskets and mats. I inculcated that into my practice to present a new contemporary visual language.

What themes or subjects are central to your work?
My practice is mostly centered around my hometown, Badagry, its culture and traditions, its very rich history, and contributions to what is the Nigerian socio-cultural landscape today and West Africa at large.

How does your practice connect to action and change?
My practice connects to action and change because it mobilizes a kind of re-documentation and re-engagement with history, with the aim of re-educating and re-platforming my hometown's contributions to the present. It centers the stories of indigenous peoples who have for long been sidelined for the most part, and it calls us to reexamine indigenous knowledge systems and how they can birth fresh contemporary ideas.

What do you hope viewers take away from your work?
My priority is to use my practice to inspire change. Art is a very powerful tool, and it can mobilize, educate, and give a strong sense of belonging and pride. These are things I believe we all deserve as viewers and makers of art. So personally, I would love my practice to at the very least touch lives positively, no matter how small.

What's one thing you want people to know about your journey as an artist?
That I will continue to do my best.

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Lagos' Newest Art Space Debuts with a Psychological Journey Through Mixed Media

A new chapter in Lagos' contemporary art landscape begins with MOVING PIECES, the debut exhibition at Nuru Gallery. Opening November 8th through December 27th, the show marks both the gallery's launch and a deeper creative evolution for artist Upson, whose work has become synonymous with the city's pop-culture zeitgeist.

Founded by 25-year-old creative director Khadijah Okoya, Nuru Gallery positions itself as "a space for layered African expression", a mission statement that feels less more like a manifesto when you step into the seafoam-green floored space on the fifth floor of Eleganza House. The gallery's concrete ceiling and textured walls create what Okoya describes as an atmosphere of "floating between sky and structure," a deliberately childlike yet sophisticated environment that serves as the perfect canvas for Upson's world-building.

The exhibition unfolds across five mixed media works: Pinterest, District of Financials, Wheels Are in Motion, Kaos at the Opera, and Graduation, each functioning as a chapter in what feels like a three-dimensional artist's monologue. This is Upson inviting us into his creative process, from the chaotic spark of initial inspiration to the final, deliberate brushstroke.

Pinterest, the exhibition's opening salvo, nods to the contemporary artist's digital reference library. Its brawling, energetic characters capture that pre-form moment when ideas still exist in beautiful chaos. District of Financials introduces something more narrative: an imagined Lagos ruled by two omniscient women, populated by characters driven by ambition and self-determination. The journey culminates in Graduation: both symbolic ascension and celebration of the artist's next creative threshold.

Upson's influences are worn openly: Yayoi Kusama's obsessive patterning, the tender monstrosity of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, the heartfelt creatures of Pixar's Monsters Inc. But what emerges through his evolving sketches, pastel chalks, and layered textures is entirely his own, a psychological landscape where wild things roam, monsters possess hearts, and fear collides gracefully with wonder.

For those who've followed Lagos' creative scene, Upson needs little introduction. His long-running collaboration with musician Cruel Santino has produced some of the city's most distinctive visual work, including the first Flowers of the 1st Orchard manga and the complete visual identity for Subaru Boys: FINAL HEAVEN. Having explored digital art, illustration, graffiti, and painting, his practice remains driven by experimentation and hunger for new visual territories.

This exhibition, however, marks a turn inward, toward what the gallery describes as "deeper psychological terrain." Upson emerges as a defining voice within Lagos' current generation of artists exploring mixed media, anime aesthetics, gaming culture, and immersive world-building with equal parts whimsy and depth.

The exhibition also introduces Temitope El Shabbazz's V1 Bench, a sculptural seating piece that grounds the show with monolithic presence. Built from meticulously sanded layered wood components, the bench embodies what El Shabbazz calls his "desire for play"—an object that manages to be both timeless and tender, elegant and permanent.

This collaboration between Nuru's in-house design arm Nuruhai, Upson, and Temitope creates what Okoya describes as "the kind of easy, instinctive rapport found in two childhood friends finishing each other's sentences—seamless and gently mischievous." It signals the gallery's broader ambition: to bridge creative direction, curation, and storytelling in ways that feel globally attuned yet distinctly local.

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Created for younger, culturally attentive audiences ready to collect and preserve memory, MOVING PIECES positions Nuru Gallery as an intimate site for slow-looking, emotional resonance, and playful depth. In a city whose art scene continues to evolve at breakneck speed, this feels like a deliberate invitation to pause, look closer, and linger in the spaces between thought and form.

MOVING PIECES by Upson
November 8 – December 27, 2025
Nuru Gallery
5th Floor, Eleganza House
15B Joseph Harden, Lagos Island

Website: nuru-gallery.com
Instagram: @nuru.gallery

For press inquiries and private viewings, contact Nuru Gallery directly through their website or social media.

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African Books by African Authors for the African Readers

On March 13th 2025, I participated in a panel discussion where I told attendees that years ago, I set myself on a challenge to read a book from every African country–but I lied. The truth is I only ever bought a fraction of those books and read about three of them. For long, I forgot about the challenge altogether. It was only when I recognized how little I knew about the world beyond my immediate surroundings, that I hoped to revive this pursuit–and this time, share my reading list with others who might feel the same curiosity.

After the panel, a South African author who was also a fellow panelist and on a book tour at the time, asked me which book from his region I had read. For some reason, I could not utter one of my favourite childhood books, ‘Tsotsi’ by Athol Fugard. It hadn’t occurred to me that this book, although the story is set in South Africa, I had never considered it a South African book, per se. Somehow without knowing, I had created those invisible rules in my head about what classifies a book from a specific region.

In that regard, I began thinking of the rules that I wanted to apply to this reading list. Firstly, each author must be the originators of the country they represent. This means no settlers, no diasporic members, no bypassers, etc… Why? Without making this too political; representation matters. By mere coincidence, if a native reader were to stumble upon this article hoping to find an author from their own country, regardless of whether the storyline directly concerns that country, then this should be the place they can. 

Secondly, all selected works must be novels. This means no memoirs, anthologies, short stories, or poetry collections. Why such a narrow scope? In my experience, I found that literary niches aren’t for everyone, and to really capture the collective voice of a country, I believe novels tend to speak from the soul of the community in a way a few forms do.

Finally, you will quickly notice that there are exceptions to the rule–or better said, some rules are meant to be broken. As I researched for this project, I realized not all nations have access to or have been granted English translations of their literary works. If this was the case, I must say I’d have far more interesting recommendations to offer. However, I am also aware that not everyone speaks French and if the goal is to reach a global readership, English editions are preferred.

Regardless of whether you agree or disagree with the selections, my hope is that you learn something new–because I certainly did. When we speak of resistance and especially in modern days, nothing rings as true as the AES coalition. I was genuinely surprised to learn how difficult it was to find a fiction story on the great Mali Empire, for example. Novels during the late Sankara’s era, or even an English edition reciting at heart the everyday life in Niger. 

Now I know that there are hidden gems out there that for some reasons unknown to me, they did not appear during my research. And so, rather than presenting this article as the ultimate guide, or the one and only list you will find of a book from your country of origin, take this matter as an effort of representation, accessibility and a small step in the right direction; highlighting literature of the motherland and its authors whose voices emerge from it.

1. African Psycho - Alain Mabanckou (Congo)
If I were to create an imaginary hierarchy of African literature that I believe to be the best books ever written, then ‘African Psycho’ by Alain Mabanckou would be on top of the pyramid. There’s nothing more unsettling yet thought-provoking than to be forced into the mind of a psychopath of the Republic of the Congo (Not to mistake with Republic Democratic of the Congo) and coming to the realization towards the final chapter that this individual could possibly live among us. Despite Alain’s sentiment towards my country of origin, the Republic Democratic of the Congo, which reflects throughout his passages, it would be almost disingenuous of me not to recognize this book as what it is–a masterpiece in narrative.

2. Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe (Nigeria)
It wouldn’t be an African literary list without Nigeria A.K.A the giants of Africa were not involved. Some may argue author Wole Soyinka or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie to be a better representation; however, before you judge my final decision, just hear me out. If you were to select one book, one story, regardless of any series or era, then it would be without a doubt ‘Things Fall Apart’ by the late Chinua Achebe. This debut novel follows a Nigerian family in the pre-colonial era and shows how in its compelling narratives, they ultimately fall into the hands of their opponents. Besides the obvious groundbreaking storytelling, the passage of time is masterfully handled, keeping readers engaged until the very last page.

3. This Mournable Body - Tsitsi Dangarembga (Zimbabwe)
A read that truly shocked me during my earlier attempt at this challenge was ‘This Mournable Body’ by Tsitsi Dangarembga. I must admit that I knew nothing about Zimbabwe’s history prior to reading this book–and like the best stories do, this opened my eyes to an entire new world I had been unfamiliar with. This novel gives a glimpse into the life of an old Zimbabwean woman at the bottom of her luck. Her struggle to make ends meet and secure affordable housing is deeply woven with the country’s history and the social and economic conditions it faced after independence. Perhaps what is the most intriguing aspect of this book is the unexpected turn of events throughout this story, which seemingly transforms the main character who was for long placed at the sidelines of her own story, to the middle point of a totally different narrative.

4. The Scent of the Father - Valentin-Yves Mudimbe (DRC Congo)
‍Known to many as one of Africa’s greatest minds and Congolese author of ‘The Invention of Africa’, the late Valentin-Yves Mudimbe is a force to reckon with and that I’m afraid I’ve only become aware of his work far too late. Often overlooked in the literary world, his influence is still felt towards the newest generation of Congolese writers wanting to experience just a thread of his excellence. In this case, the exception to the rule applies. The reason I chose this book consisting of essays that I have yet to obtain and read is because of this quote from the description; “For Africa to escape the West, says Mudimbe, it must become aware of what remains Western in the very concepts and forms of thought that allow it to think against the West...” I believe ‘The Scent of the Father’ is only the beginning of a journey through Mudimbe’s large catalogue.

5. The River Between - Ngugi Wa Thiong'o (Kenya)
When it comes to an African pioneer who influenced my work the most without my knowledge, ‘The River Between’ by the late Ngugi Wa Thiong’o still echoes through me. From the very moment I wrote a poem sharing his title, to the time I had the opportunity to purchase this exact book at my own launch, Ngugi’s writing follows me wherever I go and I am still inspired by his words today. I couldn’t possibly do justice with an explanation as I am still unfolding what is a very hard read I must say; however, worth every drop of a tear. It explores the role of christianity forced upon by the early settlers and how this Kenyan tribe is torn to build a new form of existence not only in this period, but also in its future to come. I am of the opinion that if you can get through this work of art, then you can pursue any other works of Ngugi's.

6. The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born - Ayi Kwei Armah (Ghana)
A father of African literature that I’ve surprisingly only heard of this year although I knew of this book years ago is ‘The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’ by Ayi Kwei Armah. Not to take away from any of his shine; however, for those who are intrigued, I read Ghanaian author Yaa Gyasi’s ‘Homegoing’ as part of the challenge. There’s something gravitating from the title of his debut novel alone, and when you find out that the story is about a man resisting temptations in a quest to preserve his integrity, a whole picture is revealed before you. Unfortunately, I believe Ghana is often overshadowed by their African cousins, namely Nigeria. Which is a fuss because this novel has awfully good reviews.

7. Neighbours - Lilia Momple (Mozambique)
This hits close to home for me because if it wasn’t for a friend that I made along the way who comes from Mozambique, it wouldn’t have sparked a curiosity in this country who I thought was French-speaking; however, it happens to be a Portuguese past colony. Where ‘Neighbours’ by Lilia Mompele fall in line is that it’s a murder story set in Mozambique where a rumour of foreign invasion causes torments to this group of households in the capital city of Maputo. From my understanding as a future reader of this book is that the story urges you to face the country’s complex past and its current state.

8. Allah is Not Obliged - Ahmadou Kourouma (Ivory Coast)
Perhaps a region that doesn’t make much noise in the literary world; however, is vastly known throughout the continent for its booming music is none other than Ivory Coast. I am glad to share ‘Allah is Not Obliged’ by the late Ahmadou Kourouma as I plan on reading this in the feasible future. The story is about a young Ivorian boy who, after his mother’s passing, is seeking a new life in a neighbouring country; however, has fallen victim to the war and is forcibly drafted as a child soldier. He must succumb to unimaginable adversary and it is with the famous words; “ALLAH IS NOT OBLIGED TO BE FAIR ABOUT ALL THE THINGS HE DOES HERE ON EARTH,” that he may find meaning in the suffering.

9. The Heart of Redness - Zakes Mda (South Africa)
As I mentioned before, it would be hard to beat my childhood favourite ‘Tsotsi’ with any South African book I may read moving forward; however, representation matters and certainly in a region with a rich history of destabilization by its settlers. When I came across ‘The Heart of Redness’ by Zakes Mda, it spoke to me. For now, I can not wait to make this read come true. A South African who went on exile during apartheid returns to his home country to find it anew. Followed by an eccentric love story, false promises of a tribe and a deep look at a terrain recoupling after blood was shed for centuries, I think it is a good look into the psyche and spirit of the new South Africa movement.

10. Woman at Point Zero - Nawal El Saadawi (Egypt)
I don’t think there’s a single writer that I’ve watched their short clips on the internet without ever reading their actual work more than this feminist anchor. So when it was time to rekindle this forgotten challenge, I set my eyes on ‘Woman at Point Zero’ by the late Nawal El  Saadawi. Only the future will tell when I get the chance to read it. As an Egyptian woman born into a poor family in the countryside, manages to break the shackles of her childhood, she ventures into a life full of lessons. Every relationship she comes across becomes a harsh reminder that, and I quote; “the only free people are those who want nothing, fear nothing and hope for nothing.” The story ends with her finding freedom in her own form of tragic yet realistic ending. 

11. Ghost Season - Fatin Abbas (Sudan)
I still remember when I  first saw the cover of this debut novel in its German edition. Firstly, it must be said that I have a long deep love story with the nation of Sudan for I believe they are masters in poetry. Although that may be the case, I wasn’t as much familiar with their novels, which I believe would really allow outsiders to penetrate into the depth of its country. So this is a must in due time. ‘Ghost Season’ by Faith Abbas captures the nuances of artificial borders, whether it’d be physical, ethnically or religiously. As tension rises in a town between Sudan and South Sudan, a single dead body brings a group of different individuals there together. The story follows their journey at the midst of a civil conflict.

12. Call and Response - Gothataone Moeng (Botswana)

13. The Purple Violet of Ashaantu - Neshani Andreas (Namibia)

14. The Happy Marriage - Tahar Ben Jelloun (Morocco)

15. The Shadow King - Maaza Mengiste (Ethiopia)
Not to sound like a broken record; however, ‘The Shadow King’ by Maaza Mengiste was one of these few instances where I purchased the book for the challenge and never got around to reading it. As an apology to our beloved readers, I will share a short description instead. It is the beginning of WW2 where the current Ethiopian emperor struggles to defeat the Italians. Only when an orphan who works as his maid offers a plan to maintain their spirit that its people begin to see a glimmer of hope. Lyrically intertwined with Ethiopia's history and women empowerment, it serves as an homage to the forgotten female heroes of history.

16. Silence is My Mother Tongue - Sulaiman Addonia (Eritrea)

17. The Fortune Men - Nadifa Mohamed (Somali)

18. In the United States of Africa - Abdourahman A. Waberi (Djibouti)

19. Weeding the Flowerbeds - Sarah Mkhonza (Eswatini)

20. Baho! - Roland Rugero (Burundi)

21. A Girl Called Eel - Ali Zamir (The Comoros)

22. Three Egg Dilemma - Morabo Morojele (Lesotho)

23. The Hand of Iman - Ryad Assani-Razaki (Benin)

24. Michel the Giant An African in Greenland - Tété-Michel Kpomassie (Togo)

25. So Long a Letter - Mariama Bâ (Senegal)

26. Swing Time - Zadie Smith (Gambia)
From reading the book description alone, you wouldn’t think that it is a story that I’m particularly fond of; however, I have seen‘Swing Time’ by Zadie Smith everywhere that at this point, it’s a must read. It is a dangerous act to read a book solely because of its visual familiarity and it rarely occurs to me to be the case. Two dancers who happen to be friends with one who’s talented and the other is idealistic. What could possibly go wrong? I hope our Gambian readers will give me an E for effort.

27. The Fury and Cries of Women - Angèle Rawiri (Gabon)

28. The Ultimate Tragedy - Abdulai Silá (Guinea-Bissau)

29. Bound to Violence - Yambo Ouologuem (Mali)

30. Told by Starlight in Chad - Joseph Brahim Seid (Chad)

31. The Lazarus Effect - Hawa Jande Golakai (Liberia)

32. Radiance of Tomorrow - Ishmael Beah (Sierra Leone)

33. The Ardent Swarm - Yamen Manai (Tunisia)

34. Harraga - Boualem Sansal (Algeria)

35. My Friends - Hisham Matar (Libya)

36. And Crocodiles are Hungry at Night - Jack Mapanje (Malawi)

37. Edo's Souls - Stella Gaitano (South Sudan)

38. All Your Children, Scattered - Beata Mairesse (Rwanda)

39. By Night The Mountain Burns - Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel (Equaterial Guinea)

40. Co-wives, Co-widows - Adrienne Yabouza (Central Africa Republic)

41. How Beautiful We Were - Imbolo Mbue (Cameroon)
Who’s guilty of having books on her shelf that she never read? I guess that would be me. In all seriousness, ‘How Beautiful We Were’ by Imbolo Blue drew my attention the second I added it to my wishlist. In a fictional village, environmental disasters seem to take place throughout the childhood of a young girl due to the lack of care and greed of a dictatorial regime. The little girl grows into a revolutionalist, while it becomes her living mission to free her people.

42. The Lives and Deaths of Véronique Bangoura - Tierno Monénembo (Guinea)

43. So Distant From My Life - Monique Ilboudo (Burkina Faso)
When you think of the late Thomas Sankara and now-president Ibrahim Traoré of Burkina Faso, the lack of literature by Burkinabé about their history and English editions is not something I would have put two and two together. Thankfully, that is why Monique Ilboudo exists and ‘So Distant From My Life’ sounds as daring as an important story to highlight. A man from a fictional West African place becomes obsessed with the idea of migration. He endures the dangerous route across the Sahara to Morocco, where he is repatriated. His desperation leads him to the encounter of a French widower and as an opportunity unveils, tragedies continue. 

44. Desert and the Drum - Mbarek Ould Beyrouk (Mauritania)

45. The Mourning Bird - Mubanga Kalimamukwento (Zambia)

46. The First Woman - Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi (Uganda)
If you made it this far, even you must admit that I have an impressive collection of unread books. ‘The First Woman’ by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi is no different, sitting as a reminder of my shortcomings that can still be rectified in the future. The story follows a young Ugandan teenager who can no longer stay silent about the void she feels inside and demands that her family give answers about the absence of her mother–the woman who brought her to life. To quote; “Her search will take her away from the safety of her prosperous Ugandan family, plunging her into a very different world of magic, tradition, and the haunting legend of 'The First Woman'”.

47. Afterlives - Abdulrazak Gurnah (Tanzania)

48. Beyond the Rice Fields - Naivo (Madagascar)

49. Eve Out of Her Ruins - Ananda Devi (Mauritius)

50. NATIVE DANCE An African Story - Gervásio Kaiser (Sao Tome and Prínciple)

51. The Madwoman of Serrano - Dina Salústio (Cape Verde)

52. In the Net - Hawad (Niger)
This is a bit of a sensitive spot to me because Hawad does not identify as a Nigerien although he was born in what is a modern Niger territory. At this stage, I had to make the difficult decision to still highlight the poetry collection ‘In the Net’ as an exception to the rule due to the fact it is one of the few English editions I came across in this region. Despite the controversy, I have a deeply new-found love for Niger as I spent my summer in New York with an auntie who even showed up to my book presentation in Harlem. It would have been an incomplete list without the giving nature of the Niger people that I’ve come to adore.

53. Contes et poèmes des Seychelles - Antoine Abel (Seychelles)
As they say, beggars can not be choosers and although, I do not believe it is a necessity for every author to translate their work in English, boy did Seychelles sure made it a challenge to me [laugh.] This poetry collection ‘Contes et poèmes des Seychelles’ by Antoine Abel may not appear as a treasure find now; however, only for those who learn to appreciate Google translate in due time.

54. White Can Dance too - Kalaf Epalanga (Angola)
Once again, the world will never get to witness the sweat, blood and tears I had to endure just to find ‘White Can Dance Too’ by Kalaf Epalanga. As a nation that shares past history with my country of origin the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Angola and its people have a special place in my heart. To obtain and read this book when time sees fit would be interesting to view how much we align and differ due to a shared history.

As someone who discovered Zaylevelten in February this year, when he released Watching Me, I consider myself one of his early fans. (Earlier fans, those who found him through before 1t g0t crazy or l0cked 1n—tapes he released in 2024—might chafe at this characterization.) Lying on my bed, one cool evening after work, I performed the distinctly 21st-century ritual of scrolling through X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, dutifully scanning its interminable sea of text and visuals for my latest dopamine hit. After what felt like 5 minutes I stumbled upon a snippet that stopped me in my tracks. “‘Watching me’ out on all plats,” the caption read. In the video, which pulses with the slightly off-kilter and grimy feel we often see in US and UK underground scenes, two guys dressed in all black outfits prance around over a discordant track. The clip is fashionably upbeat. The aspect ratio is distorted so that every person or object looks unnaturally long and lyrics in the font of Charlie XCX’s Brat haphazardly pop up on the screen. I was immediately arrested by Zaylevelten’s but even I couldn’t predict his surreal rise this year.

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Since then, I’ve assiduously followed his blistering rise. Zaylevelten’s every release has sent shockwaves throughout the pop landscape, seemingly consolidating his base and strengthening the resolve of his antagonists. No more intense has this endless cycle of polarization been than in the days and weeks that followed the release of then 1t g0t crazy, a smorgasbord of tracks that foreground his distinctively Nigerian interpretation of Trap music, which he auspiciously released on the first of October this year. All of this has culminated in the deluxe edition of the project, cheekily titled then 1t g0t crazier. Indeed in this spruced-up edition, things get more intense. then 1t g0t crazier tops up its original version with the addition of four new tracks, two of which feature Odumodublvck and Mavo.

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One of the chief pleasures of then 1t g0t crazy is its textured exploration of contemporary youth through a decidedly Nigerian lens. Consider, Guide Pass, a standout track on the project. Here he trains his attention on the familiar situation of friendships coming to an abrupt end as a result of the change in fortunes of a member of the friendship group. In the song’s overture, he addresses whispers of rancor between him and a friend, clarifying that he has no problems with anyone, he has simply transcended the friendship. “No be say we get issue I don pass you,” he intones. 

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Other times he’s more cavalier, nonetheless his unbridled swagger persists. In Pawon, a callback to Olamide’s single of the same title, he conjures a decadent scene. Inebriated and throbbing with virility, presumably at the cusp of sexual relations with a woman, he sings: “Upstairs. Make she climb up. I don high up. I no fit calm down baby climb up,” he raps. Abruptly, the song cuts to a different scene. Here he’s faced with a different dilemma: he has just received a lump sum and is pleading with his interlocutor not to forget the password. As with many other Hip Hop acts he often dawdles along moral boundaries, exploring subjects such as fraud, sexism-addled sexual relations (pun very much intended), and drugs. Depending on what moral standards you uphold, some of these themes might come across as off-putting. And yet, his ceaseless interrogation of morally questionable themes, paired with his sensibility for slang and unbelievably smooth flows, confer his music with frisson. Listening to the project feels a bit like being in the first flush of youth, feeling like the world is your oyster and nothing is beyond reach.

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The four new additions on then 1t g0t crazier crackle with this familiar frisson. On Isa Lot, an ode to his, apparently, immense level of swagger, he regales himself and his audience with syrupy smooth flows and, occasionally, poignant lyrics that can catch one off guard. Between exuberant boasts and hilarious quips such as when he raps “Lamba anytime I’m yearning with a thot,” he sneaks in lines whose playful delivery might belie their depth: “Soft life from a hard life/ Tenski now my music don dey massive.” Wuse Tu, featuring Mavo and Lowzy, is similarly exhilarating. It’s just a shame that Idanski, which was already close to perfection, is undercut by a lackluster, bluster-riddled verse by Odumodublvck in the remix. 

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Earlier, I expressed astonishment at Zaylevelten’s increasingly rapid rise to fame. If a recent tweet he made is any indication, he also shares in this astonishment. “If someone told me I’d have over 5 songs touch a million streams by the end of this year I woulda called cap, we’ll keep going crazy I love y’all,” he writes. In explaining his rise, several theories abound. And yet, the most compelling one remains that his ascendancy owes something to his intrepid exploration of subjects that deeply resonate with young adults today.

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Across the vast belt of the Sahara and Sahel — from Niger to Chad, Sudan to Somalia, and across Mauritania — lives the fictional nomadic people known as the Khal’rin. Their entire creative identity is built around camel-hair art, an expression shaped by desert life, spiritual memory, and survival.

They say:

“The desert gives the camel, the camel gives the culture.”

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ORIGINS — Where the Art Began

Legend says that the first Khal’rin artist, Sahelah the Weaver, survived a fierce sandstorm by burying herself in a tent woven from camel hair. When she emerged the next morning, the wind had carved natural patterns into the fabric — shapes that resembled dunes, stars, and desert spirits.

Inspired by this “gift of the wind,” the Khal’rin began trimming, weaving, and painting camel hair as a way to communicate with the desert and honor the animals that carried them through it.

To this day, every Khal’rin child is taught:

“The wind shapes the hair, and the hair teaches the hand.”

‍ART FORMS OF THE KHAL’RIN

1. Camel Hair Carving (Live Fur Art)

The most respected practice is shaving detailed patterns into the coats of living camels a tradition echoing real practices seen in parts of Sudan and Somalia.

Motifs include:

• Dune Spirals — protection
  
  
• Desert Star — guidance
  
  
• Ancestor Lines — family identity
  
  

Camels become walking tapestries, carrying the stories of their owners.

2. Camel-Hair Weaving

Tents, shawls, and robes are woven from soft camel underhair, with patterns that act as coded messages — blessings, warnings, and clan symbols. This craft, influenced by weaving traditions in Mauritania and Niger, carries deep meaning through every motif.

3. Fired-Skin Lanterns (Hide Art)

Camel hide is stretched, dried, and painted. When lit, the lanterns cast shadows of dunes and spirits, used during festivals and night journeys.

4. Mane Dyeing

During rites of passage, camel manes are dyed with natural pigments seen across East African nomadic cultures:

• Yellow — bravery
  
  
• Black — wisdom
  
  
• Rose — joy

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VALUES AND SOCIAL MEANING

• Respect for the Camel: Considered a spiritual companion, never a mere animal.
  
  
• Skill Equals Honor: Master groomers (Maheeri) hold high status.
  
  
• Community Creation: Most artworks are made collectively.
  
  
• The Desert as Teacher: Natural forms inspire all designs.
  
  

MAJOR FESTIVALS

1. Talam-Sa (Festival of First Shear)

Held annually during the dry season across Khal’rin camps in Sudan and Chad.

Events include:

• Camel-hair design contests
  
  
• Clan bonding rituals
  
  
• Lantern parades at dusk

Winners of the fur-carving competition are given desert jade beads — worn only by master Maheeri.

2. Weaving of Promises

A marriage tradition practiced in Mauritania and Niger regions: both families weave a camel-hair tapestry symbolizing the joining of households.

3. Rite of the Mane Flames

Across communities in Somalia and Northern Sudan, youths dye a section of their camel’s mane to mark adulthood and identity.

MODERN PRESSURES

As younger Khal’rin migrate to cities like Nouakchott, Niamey, Khartoum, and Hargeisa, camel herds shrink and ancient practices risk fading.

Still, the culture adapts; blending old patterns with new symbols while preserving its essence.

Elders say:

“As long as the camel walks, the art breathes.”

WHY IT MATTERS

For the Khal’rin, camel-hair art is a living language — a thread connecting ancestors, land, identity, and community. It shows how desert societies across Niger, Chad, Sudan, Somalia, and Mauritania transform survival into beauty and tradition into art. It is proof that culture doesn’t just survive the desert, it grows from it.

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