The Enduring Vehicle Art of West Africa’s Bustling Streets

The tradition of vehicle art in West Africa has a multifaceted origin. While its roots can be traced back to the colonial era when colonists first imported vehicles, art researcher Ife Adegbie focuses on its vibrant post-colonial development. As car ownership became widespread in the 1970s, a unique phenomenon unfolded. "Vehicle owners began personalizing their cars by naming them and painting route information on the back windshields," Adegbie explains. "This practice quickly evolved, with owners developing distinct visual identities."

In response, traditional signage artists who had long been creating hand-painted signs for businesses and public spaces adapted their skills to meet the new demand. Gbenga Samuel, a Lagos-based signage artist, never set out to do vehicle art. "As an artist, people bring vehicles for us to design, and we must do it," he tells OkayAfrica. In recent times, the canvas has evolved too — from trucks and minibusses to keke napep (tricycles). And where Samuel once worked primarily with brushes and stencils, vinyl stickers now dominate. "Although the new techniques are faster," he notes, "hand-painted designs last longer and command more attention."

Interestingly, vehicle art themes are similar across Nigeria and West Africa, reflecting shared cultural experiences while revealing personal narratives. Religious iconography — Mary and baby Jesus, the Last Supper, and the Garden of Eden - feature prominently on cargo trucks. Commercial buses opt for simpler designs, favoring religious expressions and local sayings like "The Lord is My Shepherd" and "Surulere (slow down)."

Beyond decoration, these designs mirror society. A clasped hands motif might symbolize a prayer to God or an apology for nearly hitting pedestrians in Lagos traffic. Simple sayings like "No Food for Lazy Man," "Alhamdulillah (praise be to God)", or "Born to Rule" speak volumes about local values and aspirations. "Soro Soke" conjures up a not-so-distant history. These transform everyday vehicles into moving galleries reflecting a collective ideology and personal stories.

These personal stories are often significant to the vehicle owners. Henry, a tricycle rider, says the inscriptions on his vehicle — "No King as God" and "First Lagos" — represent his faith and the significance of the route he replies. "Berger is the first place you arrive once you enter Lagos," he explains. Seyi, a bus driver, who has "Mr Money" pasted on his front windshield, says it is to manifest wealth.

At the center of this storytelling are artists like Samuel, who have become interpreters of individual expression and cultural trends. "They describe what they want, and we inscribe it on the vehicles," Samuel explains, highlighting the collaborative nature of vehicle art.

The shift in canvas — from trucks and buses to compact tricycles — has pushed artists to evolve their techniques. While Samuel laments the fading art of hand drawing, he acknowledges the practical advantages of vinyl. “Back then, people preferred freehand painting and stencil designs. Now they buy already printed designs of famous people and phrases," he notes. This technological shift has made the art form more accessible but perhaps less personal.

Despite these changes, the essence remains — vehicle artists transform mundane transportation into cultural artifacts. They don't just decorate vehicles; they document the hopes, beliefs and humor of their communities. As West African cities grow and change and tricycles replace buses in these congested cities, vehicle art endures as a grassroots gallery of public expression. Vinyl may have superseded hand-painting, but the messages are still rooted in local culture. While the materials, techniques, and canvases evolve, the tradition's core purpose remains — mirroring society and reflecting identity and aspirations through mobile art.