To Have and to Hold: Muniba Maiwada

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 when I was very young. I have always enjoyed drawing and creating things with my hands. I didn’t think much about becoming an artist back then; I simply loved making things.

As I grew older, I realised that art could be more than creating beautiful images. It could tell stories, preserve memories and ask questions that words sometimes cannot express. Today, I draw inspiration from things I observe, experience and sometimes fear we might lose.

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?

I immediately thought about little things that are not really little — things we see fading right in front of our eyes without even realising it.

Sometimes, we only recognise the value of something when it is almost gone. Our traditions, familiar objects and everyday cultural experiences are slowly changing, often without us consciously deciding to let them go.

The theme made me ask myself: What are we holding onto, and what are we allowing to disappear? My work is an attempt to hold onto some of these memories through painting.

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?

My work explores familiar cultural experiences through images of a bride holding kaskon turaren wuta and a mother setting down clay pots for her daughter.

There is something special about visiting a bride and being welcomed by the fragrance of her home. That smell can stay with you long after the wedding.

The clay pots carry another kind of memory — secret recipes, family traditions and knowledge passed down through generations. Today, they are gradually being replaced by modern cookware.

It makes me wonder: When the object disappears, do some of the memories attached to it disappear too? For me, it is not just about a pot; it is about everything the pot has carried.

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 work usually begins with an observation, a memory or a question that stays with me. I think about the story I want to tell before deciding how to translate it into an image.

I mainly work with acrylic, and I enjoy experimenting with colours, textures and surfaces. My process is not always straightforward. Sometimes, a painting changes completely from the idea I started with.

I spend a lot of time stepping away from my work and looking at it again. I know a painting is finished when I feel it has communicated what I wanted to say without needing anything more.

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?

I think about our traditional wedding experiences — from Kamu to Qunshi, budan kai, siyan baki, kalangu and kidan kwarya. These were not simply wedding activities; they were part of a whole cultural experience.

Today, weddings are increasingly becoming dinners, bridal showers and cocktail parties, while traditional musical instruments and performances are sometimes replaced by DJs.

There is nothing wrong with change, but I wonder: As we modernise, what are we taking with us, and what are we leaving behind?

Through my work, I want to document these traditions and the feelings attached to them before they become things that younger generations only hear about.

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?

Exhibiting at KAFART gives me an opportunity to share stories that are deeply connected to Northern Nigeria and the environment I grew up in.

Our clothing, ceremonies, jewellery, homes and everyday interactions have shaped the way I see the world. Many things I once considered ordinary have become important sources of inspiration for my art.

I believe Northern Nigerian artists have so many stories to tell from their own perspectives. I want to contribute to that conversation by showing the beauty, complexity and richness of our culture beyond the narratives people are already familiar with.

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?

I am excited about exploring the relationship between tradition and the future, especially through my interest in futuristic aesthetics and cultural identity. I want to keep experimenting with materials and visual language while telling stories that remain connected to who we are.

After experiencing my work at KAFART, I hope people look at familiar things differently. Perhaps they will remember a wedding, ask their mother about an old tradition or look at an object in their home and wonder about its story.

I want people to leave with two questions: What are you holding onto, and what are you allowing to disappear?