Nigerian Chutzpah: Notes on the Artist Known as Slawn

Photo of Olaolu Slawn by Georgia Jones 

saatchiyates.com  

 

"My style is all about feeling over form ..." 

 

 

I. 

 

One of the young artists included in the Saatchi Yates summer exhibition whose work I didn't discuss in a recently published post [1], is the man who brings "Nigerian chutzpah to the London scene" [2] and is usually known by the mononym Slawn. 

 

Such is his presence, for better or worse, within contemporary British culture, however - he designed a unique version of the FA Cup in the 2023-24 season in order to promote the competition amongst a younger generation of football fans and he also designed the set and stauette for the 2023 BRIT Awards - that this seems something of an oversight. 

 

So, for the record, I did like his large and energetic canvas Diaspora (2025). Using acrylic, ink, and spray paint, Slawn combined elements not only of street art and abstract expressionism, but surrealism - all those eyes! 

 

Having said that, however, there's something about him and his work - or perhaps more precisely the uncritical media fanfare surrounding him and the cynical promotion and exploitation of his work by the (predominantly white and wealthy) people in the art world - that troubles me (even if it doesn't seem to trouble him). 

 

 

II.      

 

Let's start from the beginning ... 

 

Olaolu Akeredolu-Ale was born in Lagos, Nigeria, in October 2000. A clever and creatively-minded teenager, he and his skateboarding pals founded Motherlan in 2018; an art collective cum streetwear brand. 

 

In the same year, Slawn moved to London and enrolled to study graphic design at Middlesex University in 2019, taking up a paintbrush shortly afterwards and quickly establishing a strong social media presence. 

 

He had his debut exhibition in September 2021, at The Truman Brewery (Brick Lane, E1). Interviewed in The Face around this time, he is famously quoted as saying of his work:

 

"I don’t even know why people want this shit. ​I wouldn't buy this shit. I just have no interest in my art. I make it so I can fuck about." [3]

 

Evidence perhaps of his iconoclastic spirit and Nigerian chutzpah ...   

 

Such an honest (and sadly accurate) appraisal of his own work didn't, however, have a negative impact on his career as an artist and in autumn 2024 he held his first major London exhibition at the Saatchi Yates gallery: I present to you, Slawn - click here. 

 

One of the works was a giant mural spanning the full length of an entire wall. Composed of a thousand small rectangular canvases, each was hand-painted and each priced £1000; all of which were sold. 

 

But what can one say - without using his own four-letter term - of the dozen or so large, colourful canvases that made up the rest of the exhibition ...?   

 

The gallery press release for the exhibition speaks of the work being "rooted in both Yoruba heritage and contemporary societal themes" [4], but, frankly, this sounds like the kind of thing Marcus at Modern Wank would tell one of the wealthy poshos looking to buy some new toss at a reassuringly high price to put alongside the old shit they already own [5].    

 

I can accept that one might read some of Slawn's playful figures with their oversized red lips in terms of race and identity, but whether he can be said to address such complex issues is debatable. As the cultural critic Tomide Marv has noted, Slawn is a mix of artist, hustler, and performer ultimately more interested in collaborating with world-famous brands than producing art to raise political consciousness or inspire people to want to know more about Yoruba history [6]. 

  

Still, I'm not about to criticise him for that. And I certainly don't think he's merely a talentless chancer - far from it. But neither am I going to pretend that his work is comparable to that of Jean-Michel Basquiat, as I've seen it suggested by some idiot online and to which I can only respond: 

 

I've posted in praise of Basquiat. Jean-Michel is a hero of mine. Slawn, you're no Jean-Michel Basquiat [7].       

 

 

Olaolu Slawn: Diaspora (2025) 

Acrylic, ink, and spray paint on canvas (170 x 225 cm)

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The post I'm referring to - 'Reflections on the Summer Exhibition at Saatchi Yates: Once Upon a Time in London (2025)' - was published on 8 August and can be read by clicking here.     

 

[2] Quoted from the press release for Once Upon a Time in London by Purple PR, a shortened version of which can be read on on the Saatchi Yates website: click here. 

      I'm not quite sure I know what the phrase Nigerian chutzpah means, though one assumes the writer is using it in a positive sense to signify boldness, even if this Yiddish term originally carried a more negative connotation suggesting impudence rather than just audacity. 

 

[3] Slawn interviewed by Brooke McCord for The Face, Vol. 4, Issue 9, (November, 2021): click here to read online. Slawn has also stated on social media that it doesn't matter to him whether he makes money through art, fraud, or crime, so long as he is rich at the end of it. 

 

[4] To read the press release for I present to you, Slawn (12 Sept - 1 Nov 2024) visit the Saatchi Yates website by clicking here.  

[5] I'm referring here to a character played by Harry Enfield in Harry & Paul, a British sketch show, starring Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse, first broadcast on BBC One in 2007. Along with Modern Wank, Marcus also has an antiques store called I Saw You Coming. Click here to watch a sketch on YouTube.  

[6] See Tomide Marv; 'Slawn's Art is Not That Deep', an opinion piece on theblotted.com (31 March 2024): click here. 

      For a more positive view, written by Juliette Eleuterio, see the article 'Artist, Skater, Designer, Mowaloa Model: Who Exactly is Slawn?' (2023) on culted.com - click here. Clearly a fan she writes:

      "Working on canvases, murals and just about anything Slawn can get his hands on, his playful street and pop art-style may seem like just that, a bit of fun, at first glance. This notion is reinforced by the artist himself who has often been quoted as questioning why others even follow or show any interest in his art as he is just messing about. Though up close, it's clear that Slawn knows what he is doing, with his art diving into the themes of political challenges, racism, human psychology and other societal concepts." 

[7] Surprisingly, even The Guardian's arts and culture correspondent says there's "more than a hint of Jean-Michel Basquiat about Slawn". However, he is not comparing them in terms of talent, but referring to the fact that both men tried to disguise that they were from relatively wealthy backgrounds: 

      "Basquiat created a myth about himself being a Haitian-Puerto Rican street kid prodigy who slept on benches in Tompkins Square Park. While he might have been homeless at times, he also grew up in a Prospect Park brownstone, went to private school and knew MoMA inside out. Like Basquiat, Slawn has told reporters about his down-and-out existence in Lagos before he was 'discovered' by the British grime MC Skepta while working in a Lagosian skate shop and encouraged to move to London. 

      But while he might have slept at friends' houses and in cars, he also went to the exclusive Greenwood House school in the bougie Lagos suburb of Ikoyi, and mixed with other Nigerian tastemakers such as fashion designers Mowalola Ogunlesi and Ola Badiru." 

      See Lanre Bakare, '"I got offered a gram of cocaine for a painting": is Slawn art's latest enfant terrible?', The Guardian (24 September 2024): click here to read the article and interview online.  

      Obviously, my response is a paraphrase of the famous remark made by Democratic nominee Senator Lloyd Bentsenduring during the 1988 US vice presidential debate with the Republican nominee Senator Dan Quayle, after the latter compared himself to President John F. Kennedy. 

      For my post of 11 October 2017 on Basquiat and the question of black dandyism, please click here.  

 

 

Reflections on the Summer Exhibition at Saatchi Yates: Once Upon a Time in London (2025)

Saatchi Yates: Once Upon a Time in London 

12th June - 17th August 2025 

 

 

I. 

 

Only a few days to go before the summer exhibition at Saatchi Yates [1] comes to a close. So, if you want to see it, you'd better get your skates on ...

 

According to the press release prepared by Purple PR, this group exhibition is a celebration of those British artists who, over the last 70 years, have called London their home and it draws upon the history, diversity and culture of a city that has been "a major artistic crossroad where artists have challenged conventions and redefined the artistic landscape" [2].  

 

Still, don't let that and further clichéd guff about the way in which London has "evolved but remains a constant beating heart of ground breaking art" - or how "the current community of London artists [...] create masterfully painted surreal portraits that delve deep into the human psyche in a post digital world" - put you off, as it was clearly written by an idiot (or perhaps, who knows, generated by artificial intelligence given all the right prompts). 

 

Never prejudge an exhibition by its press release: that's my advice; just go see things for yourself [3]. 

 

 

II. 

 

The problem with a show of this kind, in which very different artists from different eras, working in very different ways and with very different concerns, are placed side by side is that difference is often flattened out in the name of continuity, coherence, and the identifying of correspondences so as to open up a dialogue between past and present: Messrs. Bacon, Freud, and Hockney meet Jadé Fadojutimi and Olaulu Slawn.  

 

Maybe that's a noble goal which, if successfully achieved - and I'm not convinced this show pulls it off - allows us to see how one artist takes up the challenge or initiative of another, albeit in a new context and in a new manner, for a new audience (it's never just solely a question of influence and imitation):

 

"Many things change or are supplemented from one initiative to another, and even what they have in common gains in strengh and novelty." [4]  

 

Rightly or wrongly, however, I suspect that Once Upon a Time in London was conceived and curated more as an opportunity for the gallery "to show off their roster of emerging artists with Saatchi legacy artists as a backdrop" [5].  

 

     

III. 

 

Having said that, there were certainly artists included in the exhibition whose work I'm always happy to see; Francis Bacon and Frank Auerbach, for example. 

 

I particularly liked the latter's vibrant portrait Catherine Lampert Seated II (1991), a medium-sized, predominantly yellow coloured oil on canvas, which sold at auction to a private collector a couple of years ago for £630,000 [6]. 

 

There are other artists, however, whose works I could quite happily live without ever having to look at again; sorry Damien, sorry Tracey.

 

Hirst's Nothing Can Stop Us Now (2006) - part of his Medicine Cabinet series - may, as a concept, interest, but, unfortunately, as an object it bores after a few moments; much as Emin's neon heart - Wanting You (2014) - bores as soon as one has read its message (if not before) [7]. 

 

 

IV.

 

Ultimately, I didn't go to the Saatchi Yates summer show in order to see old works by artists I already knew and like (or knew and disliked), but new works by artists I didn't know of ...

 

Artists such as Benjamin Speirs, whose large porno-surrealist canvas, Metamorphosis (2025), certainly caught my attention when I first walked into the gallery. This was a painting which wouldn't have looked out of place at the Time to Fear Contemporary Art exhibition that I loved so much at Gallery 8 back in March of this year: click here.

 

The red-haired nude figure with a strangely twisted and elongated body was only spoiled for me by the fact she was wearing flip-flops: I hate flip-flops, for the reasons explained in an early post on Torpedo the Ark that can be accessed by clicking here.   

 

I was also quite taken with Danny Fox's Black grape vape, purple tape, Guaguin's cape (2024); a large canvas which not only referenced Guaguin, but also had elements that reminded me of Matisse. I would quite happily hang this on my wall, although if I'd been offered the chance to take but one picture home, it would probably have been Our Vegetative Virgin (2020) by Jadé Fadojutimi ... 

 

Why this one? 

 

Because of the title. Because of the lovely colours. Because I think this young woman (of Nigerian heritage who was born in London and grew up in Ilford) has real talent [8]; her work containing both abstract and figurative elements all cleverly orchestrated and full of a certain exuberance that is hard to resist.

 

I think this description from Rebecca Mead pretty much hits the nail on the head: 

 

"Amid vibrant gashes, iridescent arcs, and urgent lines, a viewer may discern the contours of leaves, flowers, butterfly wings, waves, or suns. But Fadojutimi’s swirling images seem to capture a state of mind as much as they do a state of nature - they are always energetic, and sometimes ecstatic, blooming into color and motion and light. [...] They are an alternative place to dwell." [9]    

 

Despite the obvious speed they are painted at, Fadojutimi's canvases allow one to breathe like little engines of fresh air.  

 

Top Left: Jadé Fadojutimi: Our Vegetative Virgin (2020)

Top Right: Benjamin Spiers: Metamorphosis (2025)

Bottom: Danny Fox: Black grape vape, purple tape, Gauguin's cape (2024)  

 

Notes

 

[1] An independent commercial gallery opened by Phoebe Saatchi Yates and Arthur Yates in October 2020, it is described by Dora Davies-Evitt as the buzziest gallery in London. 

       Since opening its doors five years ago, Saatchi Yates has become the place to be seen for a young crowd of glamorous gallery goers who know how to put the art in party. See 'Once Upon a Time in London: Saatchi Yates heralds a new chapter in British art', Tatler (11 July 2025): click here.

      The Saatchi Yates gallery is at 14 Bury Street, St. James's, London SW1. Visit the website by clicking here.      

 

[2] This from the press release written by Purple PR; a global communications agency who provide services including editorial procurement, product placement, and high profile event management for clients in the worlds of art, fashion, beauty and lifestyle. Visit the Purple PR website for more information: click here. 

      The Once Upon a Time in London press release can be read on the Saatchi Yates website: click here. 

 

[3] Obviously, as a writer trained in the art of the press release by the amazing Lee Ellen Newman, I rarely follow my own advice and usually go straight to any available literature about a show - both promotional and critical in character - in advance of actually looking at the pictures. But it's a habit I'd like to break if possible.  

 

[4] Gilles Deleuze, 'Nietzsche and Saint Paul, Lawrence and John of Patmos', in Essays Critical and Clinical, trans. Daniel W. Smith and Michael E. Greco (Verso, 1998), p. 37.    

 

[5] Nigel Ip, 'Review: Once Upon a Time in London - Saatchi Yates, London', blog post dated 7 July 2025 on nigelip.com: click here. 

 

[6] For more details see the Christie's website: click here. The Lot Essay, detailing the close relationship between Auerbach and Lampert, is particularly interesting. 

 

[7] I didn't realise until visiting this exhibition at Saatchi Yates just how much I dislike Emin's neon signs and the bullshit that surrounds her unflichingly honest and sometimes painfully initimate sculptures. Having said that, I do like her piece entitled My Favourite Little Bird (2015); but then this is a (slightly sentimental) figurative work rather than a conceptual (and confessional) work pushing an overt message. 

      For a far more positive reading of Tracey Emin's neon works, see the article by Erin-Atlanta Argun on myartbroker.com (31 October 2024): click here.     

 

[8] In 2019, Fadojutimi became the youngest artist to have a work placed within the collection of the Tate; I Present Your Royal Highness (2018).   

 

[9] Rebecca Mead, 'The Intensely Colorful Work of a Painter Obsessed with Anime', in The New Yorker (11 November 2024): click here.