To Have and to Hold: Esther Nnaji

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.

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?

One of my earliest memories of making art dates back to 2020. I had just graduated from secondary school and was at home, waiting for admission.I remember one night when I was in the same room with my older sister. She was on her phone, going through her friend’s WhatsApp statuses, then she showed me an artwork one of her friends had made. I remember being so impressed by what I saw. Something about that artwork caught my attention, and that very night, I picked up a pencil and started sketching.

From that night onward, I found myself drawing almost every day. I would sketch my mum, my sister, and just about any picture I could lay my hands on. I didn’t have a phone of my own then, so whenever I came across a photograph, I would use it to practise. Sometimes I used pencils, other times pens, but I kept drawing. And somehow, I just kept going.

I don’t think my sister’s friend fully realises that he played a part in inspiring my journey as an artist. Looking back, I had always enjoyed drawing, even before that moment. During Basic Technology classes in secondary school, I was always drawing, and my work was often among the best in my class but I didn’t think too much about it nor did I have any plans of being an artist. So, in a way, the interest was already there. But seeing his artwork gave that interest a spark.

I’m genuinely grateful that my sister showed me that artwork that night. If she hadn’t shown me that artwork, I sometimes wonder whether my journey would have begun the way it did.

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?

When I first encountered the theme, “To Have and to Hold,” the first things that came to mind were spirituality, memory, ritual, and healing. This is because these are themes that often appear in my work. In the piece I’m bringing to KAFART, I use a woman, a clay pot, and an aloe vera plant to communicate these ideas. For me, the woman represents a vessel. She is someone who cares and protects, but beyond that, she is one of the reasons we continue to hold on to certain things even as time passes. Women have played a significant role in preserving knowledge and passing it down through touch, experience, and everyday practices. There is so much unseen labour involved in this, particularly in the ways women have cared for our bodies and preserved knowledge of healing across generations.

The aloe vera is also important to this work. it holds more significance than we sometimes realise. Beyond being an ordinary plant, it is associated with healing, nourishment, and care. The woman, the pot, and the plant are connected through this continuous exchange of care, memory, and healing.

For me, “To Have and to Hold” is about recognising the things we carry, the knowledge we preserve, and the practices we continue to pass on. Sometimes, these things are right in front of us, woven into our everyday lives, and we may not fully appreciate their significance until we take a moment to look more closely.

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 work I’m exhibiting explores the relationship between the female body, nature, healing, and inherited knowledge. Through the woman, the clay pot, and the aloe vera, I explore how ordinary things can become vessels that hold and carry memories, practices, and histories across generations. The aloe vera is a plant I have encountered repeatedly in Nigerian homes and neighbourhoods. Its familiarity made me think about the knowledge of healing and care that we inherit through everyday life, often passed down by women through touch and practice. The woman in the work represents a vessel of care and protection, while the clay pot becomes another part of this relationship between the body, nature, and the knowledge we preserve.

Through this piece, I hope viewers begin to recognise the significance of things they might otherwise overlook. I want them to consider the women who have preserved these forms of knowledge, the memories held in familiar objects and plants, and how these everyday practices connect us to our homes, our histories, and one another.

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?

My creative process is often inspired by my belief in God, observation, culture, research, my experiences with people, and how I see society. If there is something I feel needs to be said, I use my art to communicate it. Sometimes, there are feelings that words cannot fully express, and I turn to art to give them form.

I work across different mediums, but as a digital artist, my process begins with developing an idea, researching it, and making different sketches. I then move to my device, where I bring the work to life using infinite painter and Autodesk, moving from sketching to painting and allowing the process to flow. Throughout this journey, I acknowledge the guidance of the Holy Spirit, from the initial idea to the finished work.

I also understand the importance of being physically, spiritually, and mentally present when creating. I need to be well-rested, fed, mentally prepared, and ensure my device is fully charged before I begin. When I get tired or feel strained, I take a break, put my device aside, go for a walk, get engaged with something else or spend time with my family. I believe creating requires both commitment and knowing when to pause.

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?

One of my greatest fears is that we are gradually losing touch with our roots. I worry that our traditions, languages, food, values, and cultural knowledge are not being passed down to the next generation. Today, we have children who are growing up without learning to speak their dialect fluently, and cultural practices and histories that we barely talk about anymore. Even Nsibidi, an important system of symbols associated with the Ekpe cultural tradition, is something I feel deserves more attention and preservation.

I fear that if we continue this way, we may eventually lose parts of ourselves without even realising it. Things our ancestors practised and valued, from the use of cowries to our traditional beliefs, are sometimes misunderstood or dismissed today. This concern connects directly to my work, Let Me Be Held. Through the woman, the clay pot, and the aloe vera, I want to remind people that the things we encounter in our homes and communities carry histories and knowledge worth preserving. We should not outgrow our roots or treat our culture as something unimportant simply because it has always been around us.

I hope this work encourages us to hold on to who we are and reminds us of our responsibility to pass our knowledge, traditions, and cultural identity from one generation to the next. We should be able to move forward without forgetting where we come from..

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?

Showing my work at KAFART is a huge opportunity that I do not take for granted. I am genuinely grateful to the organisers for creating this platform, and I hope this experience will be meaningful not just to me, but to everyone who becomes part of it. My community, upbringing, and cultural background have shaped the way I see the world and create. Coming from the eaten part of Nigeria, I often return to my roots through research into spirituality and cultural practices that I believe deserve to be remembered. These experiences find their way into my artwork because I want to explore and preserve the knowledge and traditions that have shaped who we are.

Growing up in Kaduna state also exposed me to cultural influences beyond my immediate Igbo heritage, contributing to how I understand and express the world around me.

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?

Looking beyond KAFART, I am open to discovering where my artistic journey takes me. I don’t necessarily have everything figured out yet, and I believe some ideas are discovered along the way. For now, I continue to draw inspiration from my experiences, my observations of society, and my spirituality, trusting the Holy Spirit to guide my creative journey and the stories I tell through my work.

After experiencing my work at KAFART, I hope people leave with something to think about. I hope my work encourages them to look more closely at the things we often overlook, to reflect on their relationship with their bodies, their culture, and the world around them, and to recognise the stories and knowledge that deserve to be remembered. Above all, I hope they leave knowing that even the most ordinary things can hold meaning far beyond what we see.