To Have and to Hold: Kidamari Kwajafa

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?

My relationship with art started from when I was really young — I’ve honestly just had an imagination I consider out of this world. I really could see figures out of nothing, sometimes monsters, but never really paid attention to the ability at the time. There was also a time I drew something for my Biology notes, and my teacher liked it so much that she asked me to make a bigger version for the whole class so we could put it up on the classroom wall. I think that was one of the first moments I realised there was something in me worth exploring.

COVID happened in 2020, and honestly, I wasn’t really doing much school-wise. I had a lot going on in my head, trying to understand who I was and figure out my identity. I really had to be honest with what I was willing to live and die for — from that point I was turning 18 and needed a route. During that period, I started listening to wise people speak, exploring ideologies, and certain ideas really stuck with me — things like “Imagination is the preview of life’s coming attractions” and “Your gift will make room for you.” Those words made me pay more attention to my instincts and what I felt I was naturally drawn to. I started seeing creativity as something deeper, something I could actually build a life around.

But when I think about who first made me feel that creating was something I could do, I have to say my parents. My mum knows how to do so many things; she can just make things happen, and seeing that in her inspired me. My dad is also naturally gifted in his own way. He doesn’t even have to try to prove anything; it’s just who he is. Looking at both of them, I think I grew up seeing creativity and resourcefulness in real life, even before I fully understood what they meant. Honestly, I have cool parents, and I think a lot of who I am creatively comes from them.

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, for me, is about something tangible — something you can experience, something that becomes a memory and furthermore lives on. These are some of the things the theme means to me, amongst other things.

But then it also makes me think about what we choose to hold on to and what we choose to let go of. For me, I choose to hold on to culture — the things that connect me to my roots, my people, and where I come from. And what do I choose to let go of? My fears and limitations, especially the ones I place on myself.

I think those ideas are part of what stay with me when I approach my work. This practice gives me a way to make certain things tangible, to create something people can experience and carry with them as a memory. At the same time, it’s a way for me to reflect on the things we preserve, the things we carry, and the things we need to release.

For me, it’s not just about what you can physically hold in your hands. It’s also about what you hold within you — your culture, your experiences, and the things that shape who you are.

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?

This body of work is an extension of how I observe my environment, especially the authentic Afrocentric ways of life and the materials that have existed since time immemorial. I don’t necessarily like referring to these ways of life as rural, because I feel there’s so much knowledge, meaning, and value in them that we sometimes overlook.

Especially here in Africa, many of the materials I’m working with have been part of our lives since the beginning of time. I’d say about 98% of the materials I’m showcasing are things our people have known, used, and lived with for generations. For me, there’s something powerful about that continuity.

I want people to see what I mean when I say the future is in the past. Sometimes, what we’re looking for in the future already exists in the knowledge, materials, and ways of life we’ve inherited. That’s something I choose to hold on to our culture, our roots, and the things that continue to carry meaning across generations.

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? 

Honestly, I think my creative process comes from impulse. I don’t always have a fixed formula for how I create. But if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s energy. I think energy is everything, and I express whatever I’m vibrating on at that particular moment. Sometimes it’s just about how something strikes me and what I feel drawn to explore.

I think that also affects how people experience my work. Everyone sees things differently, and maybe when someone connects with a piece, they’re tapping into something that resonates with them personally. If you admire my work, that’s calm.

As for what might surprise people about my process honestly, a lot of things about me seem to surprise people, so maybe the way I create is just another part of that. I don’t think I can fully predict what people will find surprising until they actually see it for themselves.

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?

Honestly, I feel like this question was made for me. It touches something very personal. When I look at my ancestry, both from my paternal and maternal sides, I see deep connections to Africa and generations of history, movement, and cultural knowledge that existed long before me. Learning more about my roots has made me realise just how much history we carry, even in the things we sometimes take for granted.

Personally, all I really want to do is preserve African culture, especially the authentic aspects of it that we risk losing. I recognise that other cultures have influenced us in many ways, and there’s value in learning from one another. But sometimes, I feel we become so carried away with what belongs to other people that we begin to forget who we are and where we come from.

For me, rediscovering my own identity changed a lot of things. It made me understand the importance of remembering who I am, and now I want my work to help other people reconnect with themselves too. I believe there are so many skills, memories, materials, and ways of life across African cultures — not just my own — that are at risk of being forgotten.

Through my art, I hope to hold on to those things and keep them alive in a way people can experience and connect with. And honestly, when people see my work, I want them to recognise themselves in it. I always say that if you’re a fan of my work, then in a way, you’re a fan of yourself too. Because the things I’m expressing aren’t just about me; they’re about us, our roots, and the parts of ourselves we sometimes forget to celebrate.

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?

Honestly, exhibiting at KAFART means a lot to me because culture has always been at the heart of what I do. I want to preserve it, showcase it, and express the elegance of the Afrocentric aesthetic. So, whenever I come across a platform that genuinely wants to push culture forward, that’s something I’ll always want to be part of. I love the idea of creating spaces where our culture can be seen, experienced, and celebrated.

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?

There’s a lot I’m looking forward to. Towards the end of this year, I’m planning something called KWJCON, where people can come together, bring their own pieces, and customise or upcycle them with me and my people. I want it to be more than just a workshop — a space for art, music, creativity, and community. Somewhere we can hang out, create things together, enjoy ourselves, and even play some flag football or whatever we choose to. Just bringing people together through the things we love.

Beyond that, there are definitely a lot of collaborations coming, and I’m also working towards a solo exhibition. There’s a lot I want to explore, and I’m excited about what’s ahead.

But when it comes to what I want people to carry with them after experiencing my work, I want them to understand that not everything has been lost. Sometimes it feels like our cultures, traditions, and ways of life are disappearing, but there are people who carry those memories deeply within them. There are people who remember, who preserve, and who continue to express these things in different ways.

I want people to know that our existence and our culture are not just things of the past. We’re still here, and we’re going to keep finding ways to express who we are, where we come from, and what we carry within us. We’ve been here, we were here, and we’ll keep being here.