Nairobi's artists struggle to rise above a waning art scene
| Nairobi, Kenya
This post is part of the project chronicling life in Nairobi, Kenya throughout the month of April.
Midmorning Mondays, round the back of Nairobi鈥檚 middle class pubs, you鈥檒l find Dickens Otieno waiting.
He鈥檚 after the empty beer and cider cans swept up after the weekend鈥檚 merrymaking. For this 32-year-old artist, trash tin is sprung tight with colorful potential, waiting to be reborn.
Otieno is one of the hundreds of painters and sculptors struggling to make a living in a city far from famous for its art, or its art market.
Galleries are closing, the few art buyers are hit by the economic crisis, and allegations swirl of cartels of middlemen manipulating international dealers into choosing work by a select few.
A year ago, as paint prices rose and picture sales fell, Otieno switched from brush and canvas to metal cutters and tin. At least his raw materials were now free.
Today, in his rented corner of a studio in an artists鈥� enclave in Nairobi鈥檚 Industrial Area, he鈥檚 experimenting with what he calls 鈥渨eaving鈥�.
On a mesh of chicken wire, he鈥檚 feeding strips of tin in and out, creating a patchwork of woven metal which becomes his new canvas. Last year, he sold six pieces crafted from this novel approach, for as much as $600 each.
鈥淭he market here only wants Masai figures or wild animals, that鈥檚 what the tourists buy, that鈥檚 what people here understand,鈥� he said.
鈥淵ou need courage to risk to do experiments with your own way, we all need money and these things are hard to sell. But I cannot copy others, I will get bored. I need to discover the best ways to express myself.鈥�
The 鈥渞isk鈥� he talks about is that the few spots around Nairobi where art is displayed and sold will refuse your work if it is too unconventional.
The city鈥檚 best-known modern art gallery, RaMoMa, closed last year. Another, Gallery Watatu, has been recently refurbished but it is not yet clear if it will take experimental work from local newcomers.
Without space to exhibit, many here fear they will never win the exposure they need to break into big-money international markets which have so far focused on work coming out of Africa鈥檚 west and south.
鈥淚 have to say there are some places here which have a kind of goodwill towards artists, but they are still wanting a certain type of painting,鈥� said Tom Mboya, who shares Otieno鈥檚 studio.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a small market, and it鈥檚 getting smaller. I worked nine years in the hotel industry before finishing and starting painting. It鈥檚 my passion, but none of us can say we are in this to make good money.鈥�
Beside him, Esther Mukuhi, who works from the same shared studio, nodded in agreement.
鈥淚 know of many of us who are turning away from art and looking to open some small kind of business,鈥� she said. 鈥淣owadays, it is too hard to sell art and make a living.鈥�
Despite the challenges, however, there is hope. In the studio next door, Dickson Kaloki stood before a painting of a ghostly female figure overlaid by the outlines of slum shacks.
鈥淭his to me is about how politicians and big people use us in the slums, the same way that some men exploit women,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hese are things people need to see, to be reminded about. Who will do that, in a way which remains in the future, if it is not artists?鈥�
