My name is Emeka, and if you asked me to describe Lagos in a word, I'd probably say "contradiction." It's a place that can lift you up one moment and drown you the next, a city of raw energy, creativity, and endless struggle. For an artist like me, it's both a muse and a battlefield.
When I first started painting, I had no idea how tough it would be. My early works, deeply influenced by traditional Nigerian themes-stories passed down through generations-began to attract some attention. I poured my soul into every brushstroke, capturing the essence of my culture. But Lagos isn't an easy place to be an artist. Recognition is fleeting, and the pressure to constantly innovate gnaws at you. The art scene here is competitive, and with every step forward, the stakes get higher.
I struggled with more than just creativity. Financial constraints weighed heavily on me. I couldn't escape the realities of life in Lagos-rent that never seemed to stop rising, bills that never took a break, and the constant pressure to meet society's expectations. My family was supportive, but they had their own ideas of success, and their concern often felt more like pressure. They wanted me to thrive, but they didn't always understand the path I had chosen.
Then came Isabelle. She was a well-known curator, the kind of person whose opinion could make or break an artist's career. When she took an interest in my work, it felt like the opportunity I had been waiting for. She pushed me in ways I wasn't expecting, encouraging me to blend my traditional roots with contemporary techniques. I was hesitant at first-afraid that in trying to appeal to a global audience, I might lose my authenticity. But Lagos had taught me one thing: survival means adaptation.
As my reputation grew, so did the complexity of my relationships. My peers-artists who had been friends and collaborators-became competitors. Every gallery opening, every exhibition felt like a contest. And then there was my love life, complicated and messy, as it often is when you're trying to balance passion with ambition. I found myself pulled in all directions, struggling to stay true to my vision while dealing with the realities of a career in the arts.
But amidst all the chaos, Lagos never stopped being my muse. The streets were alive with color and sound-the market stalls spilling over with fabrics, the music that seemed to pulse through the veins of the city. There was always something happening, always something to inspire me. The city gave me energy, even when it exhausted me.
The international exhibition was my biggest test yet. Isabelle had managed to get me a spot, and it felt like the culmination of everything I'd worked for. My work was displayed alongside artists from all over the world, and for the first time, I felt like I truly belonged on a global stage. It was a success, but it also made me pause. After the high of the exhibition, I found myself questioning what success really meant to me. Was it the recognition? The money? Or was it something deeper-something tied to the stories I'd been telling with my art all along?
