Sunshine Alaibe is one of the new generation of cultural leaders redefining how African art is created, curated and experienced. A Lagos-based curator, art consultant, entrepreneur and cultural strategist, she has become a leading voice in Nigeria’s contemporary art landscape, championing artists while helping to build stronger ecosystems for the continent’s creative future.
Leadership and entrepreneurship run deep in her story. She is the daughter of former Managing Director of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC), Timi Alaibe, and the late Alaere Alaibe, founder of the premium fashion brand Pretty Woman and the non-governmental organisation, The Family Orientation, Education and Empowerment (FREE). Yet Sunshine has carved out a distinct path of her own, driven by a belief that art is most powerful when it serves people.
That philosophy sits at the heart of everything she does. From curating exhibitions and advising collectors to developing digital platforms and community-led initiatives, Alaibe is helping to create sustainable opportunities for African artists while expanding the global conversation around African visual culture.
Her professional journey was shaped in the United Kingdom, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in art history from University College London (UCL), followed by a Master’s degree in International Management from the University of Exeter, as well as a Diploma in Strategic Management and Leadership. Today, she is not only helping shape the future of African art but also ensuring that more women have a seat at the table and a hand on the wheel in an industry that is evolving at remarkable speed.
Interview by Yinka Olatunbosun
You started out painting and drawing as a child before pivoting from creating art to enabling it. Why is that transition important to you?
From a very young age, I was gifted with the ability to create art, spending much of my time painting and drawing. My A-levels teacher strongly encouraged me to pursue a career as an artist. But creativity, for me, was always multi-layered. I was equally drawn to systems, to the question of how industries are built and sustained, to the infrastructure that allows creative work to exist in the first place— and I wanted to use all of it. The pivot was less a departure from art and more a decision about where I could do the most meaningful work.
Moving from London’s deeply institutionalised art scene back to Lagos must have activated a culture shock. How were you able to navigate the arts and culture ecosystem in Lagos?
In my first year in Lagos, I worked as an account executive at an online art platform and that turned out to be one of the most valuable entry points I could have had. The art world here was intimate in a way London’s never quite was. Mainly because the ecosystem was still forming, still finding its edges, there was a remarkable openness to it. I met artists at every stage of their careers, attended exhibition openings, auctions, and pop-up exhibits, and found that people were genuinely willing to share what they were building, what they were thinking, and where they wanted to go.
What Lagos gave me was access, where if you showed up consistently and with genuine curiosity, the doors opened. A major part of your lifestyle involves visiting artists in their private studios to share ideas.
What has that experience taught you about art, artists and the art market?
The studio visit is one part of a much larger practice of engagement. My work takes me across ecosystems — London, Paris, Ghana, Lagos — and what I am really doing in all of those places is the same: sitting with the people who are building this industry, in whatever form it takes.
Sometimes that is an artist’s studio. Sometimes, it is a conversation with a gallerist in London, a collector in Ghana, or a fellow founder navigating the same structural questions I am navigating here on the continent. What that breadth teaches you is pattern recognition. You begin to see which conversations are happening globally and which ones Africa is not yet part of, and why. Most importantly, you understand where the market is moving.
If you are to advise someone on collecting art, what are some of the considerations to ponder before diving in?
Buy what you love.
The Lagos creative calendar is notoriously high-octane. What is your ultimate, nonnegotiable nighttime wind-down routine to disconnect from the noise?
I am actually quite simple about it. Phone off by nine. An hour with my devotional, my journal, and a hot cup of chamomile tea. That is it. After a day of coordinating a media platform, whilst facilitating community across multiple time zones, the wildest thing I can do is be still.
How would you describe your personal style?
Clean, modest, always elegant. Most days, you will find me in something simple and well-considered. On special occasions, I might reach for a bold colour, but even then, the silhouette stays clean. The goal is always to be refined, elegant, but never excessive.
Have you been involved in any project that fuses art, music and fashion? What does it teach you about the cultural ecosystem?
The creative industry is very intertwined, and the boundaries between disciplines are largely administrative. When I was managing O’DA Art, the OBIDA Shop sat right next to the gallery, and that proximity was its own education. OBIDA is a brand rooted in African excellence, refinement and craftsmanship — watching how their creative vision operated deepened how I thought about the art on the other side of the wall. Directing Lagos Gallery Weekend (LGW) opened up further opportunities to work across those disciplines. Our partnership with ‘A Place Called Mars’ brought live music directly into the gallery space. Hearing a phenomenal guitarist like Nsikak perform inside a room full of art does something to you. That experience clarified the vision for LGW going forward. If we are serious about reaching the broadest possible audience, we cannot stay within the boundaries of the visual arts alone. Music, fashion, film, design, performance — each carries its own community, its own entry point. Collaboration across creative disciplines should be encouraged.
What was the rationale behind creating Lagos Gallery Weekend?
Lagos has over 100 cultural spaces — galleries, museums, institutions — whose hard work often goes unnoticed. What Lagos Gallery Weekend does is amplify visibility. It says: here, all at once, across the city, is everything this industry has been building. Come and see it. There are so many businesses that are not being credited for the work that they do. I have been in spaces where so much was accomplished and not many people knew. LGW is, among other things, a corrective to that.
The third edition was a significant stepping stone. We saw over 6,000 visitors move across the city over the course of the weekend, engaged 150 students from 5 local schools, and activated over 40 art events across Lagos. We hope to continue building on this uphill trajectory.
Having a name that rings a bell is likely to be an icebreaker. Does it help to have that privilege or does it constantly raise expectations for you?
I love my name! My mother gave me this name, and I will always honour what it means — to be a light wherever I go. Does it open doors? Sometimes. But it also means the work has to be excellent. Every project I put my name to is being measured against the reputation attached to it. Lagos Gallery Weekend, WO’AMA Africa, Art Report Africa — none of these could afford to be mediocre. It does not make execution easier, it just means more people are watching when you do.
You founded WO’AMA Africa to create a vital support system for professional women across the African art sector and diaspora. What has been the outcome thus far?
When we started WO’AMA, we noticed a need for better community and wellness support, particularly in sharing non-financial resources. Far too many practitioners, especially women, are navigating this ecosystem in isolation. While women own a significant portion of art businesses here, there hasn’t always been a strong culture of collaboration between them, and that’s the missing link WO’AMA was created to address. Today, we are a community of over 100 women — practitioners, founders, curators, consultants — all building careers across the African art sector and diaspora. The WO’AMA Art Business Conference 2024, held in December at the Alliance Française in Ikoyi, brought together artists, cultural leaders, and business minds to tackle how to navigate the business of art from an African perspective. People showed up because they recognised that the gap was real and that this was a serious attempt to close it. We are set to hold our second edition in November 2026, themed “Art Business and Power”, hopefully a platform for more engagement like this.
Many artists still depend on the traditional structure of gallery representation to sell their works. What does the current art market demand?
The current market rewards artists who understand their own practice well enough to speak about it, who have a documented body of work, who have cultivated relationships with collectors directly.
That does not mean abandoning the gallery model; instead, it means understanding it as one node in a broader ecosystem. I believe Gallery representation provides infrastructure, relationships, and legitimacy in certain markets. But the market now demands more than one point of entry.
In an era where people increasingly consume art through phone screens, how do we preserve the slow, intentional, lifestyle-driven appreciation of physical art?
I actually think our phones have made it easier to appreciate art. I discover so much through social media from artists’ pages, to new galleries, and interesting art events happening across the world that would not otherwise be at the front of my mind. Physical art absolutely demands a body in front of it to fully appreciate its essence, but one needs to know about it first in order to seek it out. If we create enough entry points — guided tours, free student programmes, weekend routes through the city — we can encourage more people into these spaces. And once someone stands in front of a work that genuinely moves them, I believe it will change their perception of art and culture as experiences to be had in person.
From a curatorial point of view, what are your expectations for the Nigerian art scene?
My expectation is that the Nigerian art scene becomes a self-sustaining ecosystem with its own critical language, institutions, and audience. I would like to see more experimental and conceptual curations. I also want to see more support from our governments — specifically, funding for projects in the art space so we have more rope to expand, inspire, and cultivate art initiatives. Beyond that, I would like to see more documentation. The history of Nigerian contemporary art is still being written in real time, and much of it is at risk of being lost because we have not built the archival infrastructure to hold it.
