SOLDIER is making art that makes you “stop and lick”

If there is a London crew to be part of (or, at least, have on your radar) right now, it’s the one that consists of Slawn, Onyedi and SOLDIER. All three have something of a relationship with Nigeria, but it’s in London that they’ve made their mark. Taking over the art and fashion scene (Onyedi and Slawn are, of course, behind the Lagos skate shop Motherlan), they’ve graced the cover of i-D and collabed with the likes of Skepta. But it’s SOLDIER that’s really doing things different. His latest collab, for instance, is with none other than KFC. 

If you’re familiar with SOLDIER’s work (which muses on immigration and Black identity through a vast array of mediums, most notably his iconic camo print), teaming up with KFC is equal parts a surprise and to be expected. It certainly fits within the self-proclaimed “disruptor[‘s]” style, but it’s also the kind of thing that continues on his trajectory of “push[ing] boundaries”. What’s the collab then? It’s lickable wrapping paper — obviously. Think hints of cranberry and sage (and all the flavours of the chain’s Christmas Stuffing Stacker Burger) brought to life by SOLDIER’s characteristic silhouettes: “[they’re about] capturing movement and celebration […] [the] paper reflects the joy and chaos of the holidays”. 

Here, SOLDIER sits down with HUNGER to chat the Lagos creative scene, leaving Nigeria as a teen, and making art that makes you “stop and lick”. 

You left Nigeria at 16. How did that leap of faith shape your art?

Well, that was the first time I was essentially bold and made a decision to live for myself and not for anyone else — I think as an artist that’s very important because it opens up that world of living for yourself. Leaving Nigeria and having no one else to rely on was the reason I took art so seriously. And it was nice to live solely for my passion, dreams and art and — that’s how I got to where I am now.

What’s different about the creative scenes in Lagos and London for you?

The creative scene in Lagos still has a lot that needs to be learnt. It’s very hard to make a living from a creative job unless you already come from privilege. The London scene also has its drawbacks. Especially with being an outsider — there’s a lot of proof for anything to happen for you. But there’s lots of amazing people who I’ve met along the way that have broken boundaries in both Lagos and London so, essentially, they are similar in a sense. 

The i-D cover with Slawn and Onyedi is legendary. How has being part of that crew’s energy shaped your path?

Those are my boys. They’ve always been there, always had my back and have always been supporting my crazy ideas. They make things fun. It’s one thing leaving home by yourself, but it’s another thing leaving a country and meeting other people that can relate to your situation. I love every single thing they do and a lot of things that I do now started off the back of my friendship with them. 

Your camo print started as rebellion. Has its meaning evolved with your success?

Yes it definitely has. I think things evolve with age and time. When I was a bit younger, I was more of a disruptor. I was skating and designing all the time. The older I get I’ve been doing a lot more thinking and figuring out things in the world — my very existence is still a disruption in itself, but I’d rather focus on beauty and knowledge and have my work experienced in that way, too. 

You’re super selective about collectors. What makes someone right for a SOLDIER piece?

A big part of it plays into putting my pieces in the right place. I love selling work to people that look like me and champion the people that I champion — collectors with a deep understanding of African art as opposed to those that buy art to make money off a Black artist.

Making London your museum — was that about access or attitude?

Definitely an attitude. As a Black person you don’t necessarily have access and one of the things that you have to learn is getting access through your attitude.

You’ve said galleries won’t “f*** with you” yet. Is that fuelling your experimentation?

I mean that has kind of changed — as I said, I came in as an outsider and approached everything without a formal art education. I just moved forward and did the best work that I could, and it’s worked to a certain extent. The galleries do fuck with the work now, but having that lack of something at the beginning means I pushed harder. 

The Christmas paper uses silhouettes similar to your Festival Dance project at Glastonbury. How do these projects connect?

Both projects are about capturing movement and celebration. With Festival Dance, it was about music and freedom, while the KFC Christmas paper reflects the joy and chaos of the holidays. The silhouettes distil those experiences into something visual, letting the viewer project their own memories and stories onto them.

Lickable wrapping paper is pretty out there. Is that the kind of disruption you’re after?

Definitely. Art should make you stop and think. Or, in this case, stop and lick. Collaborating on something so unexpected with KFC lets me push boundaries. It makes people rethink what art can be and where it can live. It’s about breaking rules and having fun while doing it.

That passport series hits hard. What made you tackle immigration through art?

One of the things that is troublesome to me is the idea that people who are born in different locations and places are restricted in how they can travel and move around the world. Especially in my case, being born in Nigeria, I learnt fast that travelling isn’t easy and there’s a lot of issues with visas. I feel that anyone born into this world should have the ability to travel as they want — that’s the reason why I tackle this in my work. To try and spread light and understanding of this, as some people just aren’t aware. Travel creates opportunities and those that cannot freely lack those opportunities. I want to bring that awareness and level the playing field as much as I can.

The KFC Lickable Wrapping Paper will be available from 20th November, until stocks last.