You’ve described your family as your greatest inspiration. How has that foundation influenced your creative journey in photography?

My family has been the bedrock of everything I am. Losing my father at a young age shaped me more than anything else. I spent four critical years in my village, Okeliwo, living with my maternal grandparents, and those years gave me lessons no institution in the world could ever provide.

My paternal grandmother taught me resilience. My maternal grandmother, the most celebrated akara seller in the village, taught me enterprise and the dignity of labour. Those experiences didn’t shape my creativity directly, but they gave me business instincts and survival skills that later helped sustain my passion for photography.

Growing up in Ogun State, what early experiences sparked your passion for visual storytelling before you studied photography in London? Honestly, none. My creativity didn’t begin in Ogun. It began when I moved to Lagos. My years in the village taught me resilience, but my real visual journey started in the city.

Initially, I studied General Agriculture in Nigeria, but I knew I would never be a farmer. I was too lazy for that. It was circumstance, not passion. My real calling came when I travelled to the UK and studied photography at the Westminster College and the University of Westminster. That was destiny. That decision launched a 37-year career that I still wake up every day grateful for.

Can you tell us more about the DAP Experience Centre and what inspired its creation?

The DAP Experience Centre is my legacy project. I wrote the idea down in my black book back in 2003. The vision was to create a place where you could travel across Nigeria without leaving a building.

Over the years, I have documented every state, every community, every landscape, amassing over four million images. The Centre is a way of archiving this heritage for future generations.

It’s a contemporary three-storey building that will feature: An immersive room, where lions leap from Yankari Game Reserve in Bauchi State and elephants march from J4 Forest in Ogun State.

A video room, with documentaries on the creation and history of Nigeria.

A photography library, dedicated to students and researchers. A boat room, simulating journeys from Lagos Marina through the Niger Delta to Lokoja and Makurdi.

A traditional darkroom, so young people can experience the magic of analogue photography.

A photography museum, charting the evolution from pinhole cameras to today’s smartphones.

An exhibition floor, where photographers can showcase work for free and earn income.

A shop, café, and botanical garden, with Nigerian-themed merchandise and spaces for learning micro-photography.

It is my way of giving back. A home for photography, culture, and storytelling. Your photographs appear on the Nigerian e-passport, the ₦100 centenary note, and even at Abuja International Airport. What does this mean to you?

It is the highest honour I could ask for. When I began, I never dreamed my work would represent my country at such a scale. I didn’t set out for fame or money. I just wanted to tell Nigeria’s story. To now have my work on the passport, on currency, and in national spaces is humbling.
As I like to say, only a thief would ask for more than that.

You’ve documented Nigeria’s architecture, food, festivals, and cultural heritage for more than two decades. What drives you to preserve Nigeria’s visual identity?

The lack of it. Too often, Nigerians are the loudest critics of Nigeria. You cannot call your mother a witch and expect the world to respect her. That’s exactly what we do to our country. For me, it’s about balance. I want to show Nigeria most people do not know. When I published Nigeria 2.0, I was shocked that the largest buyers were foreign embassies, the Chinese, the Dutch, and others. A friend even found a copy in a home in France. That told me something: the world is waiting for Nigeria, even if Nigerians sometimes cannot see it.

How do you balance telling Nigerian stories with creating works that resonate globally?

By being authentic. When you show Nigeria as it truly is, its landscapes, its people, its spirit, it resonates everywhere. Nigerians feel pride, and foreigners feel curiosity. Truth is what connects both worlds.

With over four million images in your archive, how do you decide what to showcase in projects like your upcoming 1,000-page pictorial book?

Painstakingly, for this new book, I spent nearly four months going through folders, negatives, and hundreds of old CD-ROMs. I found hundreds of forgotten images that had never been published.

The result will be a 10kg book, encased in polished wood, filled with unseen photographs. Nigerians will see their country in a completely new light. I believe it is my best work so far.

The Nigerian art industry often struggles with funding, recognition, and documentation. From your experience, what structural challenges require urgent attention?

Two stand out: First, funding. Most of us fund our work from personal resources. I have sold many things I owned just to complete projects. In Europe and America, the arts are funded because they are understood as vital to society. Nigeria isn’t there yet.

 

Second, copyright protection. Too often, our works are stolen. A birthday photograph suddenly ends up on campaign billboards. Music is pirated before release. Films are copied before they hit the cinemas. Without laws to protect creatives, it is difficult to thrive.

Government must act. And creatives must organise, form pressure groups, lobby, demand change.

You were on the committee that introduced photography into Nigerian polytechnics. How far has Nigeria come in recognizing photography as both an art form and a profession?

We’ve made progress. Photography is now more widely accepted. Parents who once frowned on creative careers are now encouraging their children. But there’s still more to do. We need stronger institutions, academic programs, professional associations, and legal frameworks, to sustain photography as both art and profession.

Many young creatives see art as passion but not business. What lessons can Nigeria learn in turning creativity into a sustainable industry?

Passion is only the starting point. To turn creativity into successful art, you need discipline, business sense, and persistence.
As a country, we must enforce copyright, fund the arts, and recognise creativity as a pillar of the economy. Otherwise, young people will find out too late that passion alone cannot put food on the table.

With the rise of AI and digital tools, how do you see the future of photography in Nigeria’s creative economy?

AI will not kill photography; it will expand it. When photography was invented in 1839, many artists feared it would end painting. Nearly 200 years later, art is thriving, and so is photography.

AI is the same. Those who embrace it will find new tools. Those who cannot will find other paths. But the essence of photography, the eye, the story, the soul, cannot be replaced.

Your documentary CREMATION is considered your best work yet. Do you plan to explore more filmmaking?

Yes, absolutely. Once the DAP Experience Centre is complete, I plan to go into documentary filmmaking. And what I have in mind has never been done in Nigeria before. Just like with photography, it will be about showing this country in new and unexpected ways.

What do you hope future generations of Nigerian photographers will take from your legacy?

I want them to see that it is possible to build even without government support. I want them to appreciate Nigeria’s diversity and beauty, and to continue telling our stories with pride.

My archive of four million images is not just mine, it is theirs. It is a record of where we’ve been and a guide for where we can go.

If you could capture one image today that symbolises Nigeria’s future, what would it be?