To Have and to Hold: Damilola Adewole

The Kaduna Fashion and Art Festival (KAFART) is back this year for its 6th overall edition and 1st edition as a biennial. The theme is “To Have and to Hold.” We had earlier spoken to the festival director, Ganiyat Sani, about what this edition promises. We spotlight some of the exhibiting artists and designers, asking them questions about their creative origins, their distinct interpretations of the theme, and how their heritage and local communities shape the narratives they choose to preserve against the threat of erasure. Here is Damilola Adewole.

Take us back to where your relationship with art began. What are your earliest memories of making, and who or what first made you feel that creating was something you could do, and perhaps needed to do?

My relationship with art began like a high school rom-com where the boy and the girl start off hating each other, only to fall in love and become inseparable. In primary school, I hated art because drawing was always so frustrating. That changed in my first year of secondary school when I met our art teacher, Mr. Efe Ronald Chesterfield. Oh, he was marvellous! Seeing his paintings and mandala designs sparked a flame in me that later grew into a blazing fire. He seemed to have noticed it too, because he offered to teach me how to draw and paint, and I would spend every free moment in the Fine Art Lab, even after school hours. My very first painting with him was a night-scene seascape. It was so beautiful that some of my classmates who saw it couldn’t help but wonder how I pulled it off. After it was framed, it was acquired by my school’s CEO to be displayed in her radio station’s office. A few months later, Mr. Chester (as I fondly call him) had to leave, so Mr. Idowu Stephen, our second art teacher, and I became close. He trained as a ceramist at Ahmadu Bello University (ABU), Zaria. He taught me until I graduated and inspired me to study art at ABU as well.

The year I decided to study Fine Art was boat-rocking news for everyone who heard it. My parents, who both work in science fields, were stunned and had many questions. My teachers and school administrators were so shocked that they had to call my parents to be sure they were aware of my decision. It was assumed that I would go into the sciences, or perhaps join the art class to study law, but not Fine Art! Thankfully, my parents supported me, and they still do. I am glad I was delusional enough to make that decision.

Every time I create, from then till now, it feels like a calling of some sort, as though I had a burning bush encounter and can’t help but do this. Art, for me, is ministry, and I feel closest to my Creator when I create.

I started crocheting around the same time, in JSS 2, as a hobby. It was not until 2023, and later in 2025, that I made it my primary medium of expression, after encountering the works of other crochet artists online, like Katika, amongst many others. It was a eureka moment because I had been searching for what could make me stand out in the art space. I used crochet for my final-year project for my Fine Art Bachelor’s degree at Ahmadu Bello University, where I trained as a painter, and it was an absolute success. I am enthralled to see how much I can explore crochet in my practice because it has sooo much potential. And just like that, art and I have become inseparable lovers who started off hating each other.

This year’s theme, “To Have and to Hold,” asks what we choose to hold, what we let go, and the cost of holding on. When you first sat with those words, what did they stir in you, and how do they show up in the work you’re bringing to KAFART?

“To Have and to Hold”… “To be or not to be”… For me, it stirred up questions of identity and what makes us who we are beyond the physical things we see. Over the past year, I have explored the fragility of human life through the lens of flowers. I like to view human life as a flower, much like the Bible often does: it buds, blooms and quietly fades away as if it never existed. So when I saw this year’s theme, it really resonated with me. It made me ask: what do we really have or own, and what do we hold on to after we leave? What moments really shape who we are? And, as my work The Yearning of the Hibiscus suggests, are we reaching out for what we already have? I am left with more questions to ponder. Will holding on cost me something, or does it mean I have learnt to make peace with what I hold on to, like my piece Eirēnē: Thunders of My Serenity?

Tell us about the piece, or body of work, you’re exhibiting. What is the story behind it, and what do you hope someone feels or understands when they stand in front of it?

The Yearning of The Hibiscus and Eirēnē: Thunders of My Serenity are two works from my ongoing Floral Symbolism Series, which explores human fragility and the coexistence of contrasting realities. The Yearning of the Hibiscus tells the story of longing: having something yet seeking more, or seeking a different experience regardless of the uncertainties of what is longed for. Eirēnē: Thunders of My Serenity flips the coin to tell the story of someone who has made peace with who they are, where they are and what they have, and as such has begun to transform everything around them.

When you stand in front of my works, I want you to go through a repeated cycle of questions and answers about yourself, your society and reality as you know it. Ultimately, though, I want you to stand in front of my work and be whole; that is, to be conscious of your divine self, because there is more to you than this clay vessel that is bound to fade like a flower.

Take us through how your work comes to life, from the first spark of an idea to the moment you know it’s finished. Which materials, rituals or habits are essential to you, and is there anything about your process that would surprise people?

Each piece is birthed differently; some have had a natural delivery and others a cesarean section. It often starts with a feeling or prompting of some sort. Then comes the searching and researching to find the flower through which I can express that feeling. I see flowers as beings that are capable of communication. What follows is a marriage between mortal figures and floral forms, which is translated into the image I crochet.

My work is much like pointillism in that I work one single crochet stitch at a time, using two strands simultaneously, from the bottom up. A surprising element? Hmmm… my work is its own support. So imagine writing backwards, one letter at a time, except you’re not writing on paper but in thin air. Yes, that is how my works are created. 

KAFART asks what endures in the face of erasure and forgetting. Is there a story, tradition, skill or memory from your culture, family or community that you feel is at risk of being lost, and how does your work help you hold onto it?

“Aalọ ooo, Aalọ!” Yoruba culture is rich in riddles, proverbs and storytelling. The Yoruba say, “Bí ọmọdé kò bá bá ìtàn, á bá àrọ́bá, àrọ́bá sì ni baba ìtàn,” which translates to “If a child does not witness history, they will meet the narration, and the narration is the father of history.” These stories, riddles and proverbs were used to teach morals, impart wisdom and entertain, and they challenged the intellects of the audience. This culture, once prevalent in every home, has become so scarce that you have to seek out locals/indigenes, experts, historians and a few online content creators to learn them. I have adopted a principle similar to Yoruba storytelling to create visual riddles that challenge the thoughts of the viewer while teaching them valuable principles of life.

Also, while it is not from my own culture, I often saw local northern women crocheting intricate designs for themselves and their children during the years I schooled in Zaria. Bringing the idea of spending time to create something intricate and intimate into my practice, and sharing it with the world, is my way of holding on to that memory.

What does it mean to you to show your work at KAFART, and how has your community, your city and the way you grew up shaped the way you see and make?

Schooling in the north was a culture shock for me! From the architecture and colourful wall decorations in Zaria city, to the northern women who crocheted, to the overall way of life, everything was a great contrast to Ibadan, where I grew up. My works have been influenced by these colours, the intentionality of these women, and years of observing the vibrant flowers that grew on the Ahmadu Bello University/Zaria landscape, such that where others see the mundane, I see untold stories.

I first met Ganiyah Sani at TEDx Samaru last year. I had heard of KAFART before then, so listening to her speak about how she started was absolutely inspiring. As a result, it is truly thrilling and humbling to show my work on a platform built on vision, passion and grit, alongside other artists from home and abroad with authentic stories, in a city close to where I trained as an artist and drew a lot of inspiration.

What is the work you haven’t made yet that excites you most, and what do you hope people carry with them after experiencing your work at KAFART?

Woooosh! It’s hard to pick just one! I am currently seeking to stretch my Floral Symbolism Series to express the divinity of human life through thermo glows, while also exploring colours in crochet to reflect healing, wholeness and stories yet to unveil themselves. I believe we humans move and reflect varying degrees of light and/or energy, and that will be the extension of my ongoing series. I’m spellbound just thinking about it!

After experiencing my works at KAFART, I hope people carry with them a sense of wholeness despite whatever pain, loss, uncertainty or contrasting reality they might bear. To have that sense of peace and to hold on to it. To Have and to Hold