The Interview of Chidinma Solomon, the Artist behind Jachi Gallerie.
By Winston Sylvans for Echiché Network
Across Sub-Saharan Africa, textile waste is growing at an alarming rate. The region generates an estimated 5.8 million tonnes of textile waste annually, much of it driven not by local production, but by imports. Each year, Africa receives approximately 900,000 tonnes of second-hand clothing, largely from Europe and North America.
The environmental consequences are severe. Around 80% of textile waste is either openly dumped or burned, contributing to pollution and climate change. Burning just one tonne of synthetic textiles releases approximately 3.6 tonnes of CO₂ equivalent. Additionally, discarded textiles are a growing source of microplastics in rivers, oceans, and soil.
In West Africa, the situation is especially visible. Ghana alone receives 15 million garments every week in markets like Kantamanto, where 30–50% quickly become waste. Nigeria, one of the largest importers of second-hand clothing globally, brings in goods worth over $120 million annually, according to Business Insider, further straining already fragile waste systems. Although Nigeria has officially banned the import of used clothes, local markets still flourish with them.
This growing crisis has led some to describe the phenomenon as “waste colonialism”, where the Global North exports not just clothing, but its environmental burden.
Yet amid this crisis, momentum is building. The African fashion scene has grown significantly in recent years, with Nigeria at the forefront. Initiatives like Woven Threads — a flagship programme of Lagos Fashion Week (LFW) and Style House Files — are working to drive circularity, sustainability, and responsible production across Africa’s textile value chain. For artists operating at the intersection of waste and creativity, this shift in the industry’s consciousness carries real significance.
Within this context, Solomon Chidinma, a Nigerian artist, is rethinking what textile waste can become. She began working with fabric scraps a few years ago, as a student at Alex Ekwueme Federal University Ndufu-Alike (AE-FUNAI) in Ebonyi State, where she studied Fine and Applied Arts.
As a student, Chidinma could not afford new materials, which led her to explore discarded textiles from tailoring shops and local markets. What started as an experiment has grown into a distinct artistic practice, a practice that transforms waste into textured, emotionally driven works rooted in personal and collective memory.
Beyond its environmental toll, textile waste carries economic and cultural consequences. The influx of low-quality fast fashion has created a paradox: while the trade generates income, it also overwhelms waste systems and undermines local textile industries.
The Interview
Can you take us back to when you started working with discarded materials and what sparked that shift?
Chidinma: I started creating art a couple of years ago. Two years into it, I was thinking of something that could make my work unique.
I had the idea to use fabric in my work. My intention was not even to use discarded fabric materials, but to buy fabric. But I was a student then, and it was expensive.
One day, while I was coming back from school, I saw textile waste littered all over the front of a local tailoring shop. Fabric scraps were everywhere, even clogging the gutters. So I thought, ‘why don’t I start with this waste fabric that is already here?’ I started visiting tailors around me and asking them, I asked them to keep the scraps and call me when they had enough for me to pick up. Not many of them agreed. Some insulted me, some called me a ritualist. They thought I wanted to resell them or use them for spiritual things.
But a few people gave me their scraps, and I started with that. I posted the first work I made on Facebook and the reaction was amazing.
That was when it became a real thing for me. I doubled down on it and started telling more tailors about what I was doing. When they saw the work, many of them began to understand the vision and started giving me more materials. That was also when I realised I wasn’t just using textile scraps — I was doing something important for the environment, reducing the amount of textile waste that goes into landfills and waterways.
Have you considered working with other materials?
Chidinma: In the long run, I might diversify into plastic or metals. But for now, I want people to know me for fabric. I love the patterns, the colours, and the textures it brings. When I go out and see people dressed in beautiful clothes, sometimes I’m tempted to walk up to them and say, “Can you give me your dress?” For now, it’s just fabric.
While materials may change, the core of her work remains tied to emotion and storytelling that fabric brings.
What does an initiative like Woven Threads, run by Lagos Fashion Week, mean for artists like yourself working with textile waste?
Chidinma: Initiatives like Woven Threads are incredibly important for artists like myself because they create a bridge between creativity and responsibility. They allow us to rethink how we source and use materials, while still telling authentic African stories.
“It’s not just about creating visually compelling pieces, but also about contributing to a system that values longevity, culture, and conscious production.”
As an artist, working with textiles is already a form of storytelling, so embracing sustainability and circularity adds deeper meaning to the work. It’s not just about creating visually compelling pieces, but also about contributing to a system that values longevity, culture, and conscious production.
Ultimately, it opens up new possibilities for innovation while preserving the integrity of our craft.
What is your process like when you get the fabric scraps?
Chidinma: Most times, I know what I want before I source. My body of work revolves around emotions and human feelings — the things people carry in their hearts and minds that they cannot express. So I have the concept in mind.
Sometimes I collect scraps from tailors, but I also buy thrift from local vendors who have clothes they cannot sell and want to dump. When I want to create a piece, I pick colours that match what I intend to create.
How does your heritage show up in your work?
Chidinma: When I source fabric, I love to look out for patterns and materials that are popularly worn by Igbo women to August meetings. I see many of them being dumped, even though they are very beautiful. There are fabrics with kri-kri star designs, some with pineapple patterns and small curved motifs.
When I use them in my work, they add something special. I prefer them to plain fabrics because of the significance they hold for me.
What would success look like for you?
Chidinma: Success for me is for people all over the world to know that beauty can come from broken things. Something that people think should just be discarded can still have value. I also want people to appreciate fabric more. Many people see fabric only as something to cover our bodies, but there is a lot more to it.
Another important message in my work is preserving memories. The clothes I use belonged to different people across Nigeria. Sometimes when I pick up a dress, I ask myself: Who owned this? Is she alive? What kind of life does she live?
For me, the work is about preserving memories of people who have lived and people who are still living.
Reducing textile waste in Africa will require systemic change and creative solutions. Artists like Solomon Chidinma offer one possible pathway: not just recycling waste, but redefining its meaning. In her work, discarded fabric is no longer just waste. It becomes material, memory, and message, a clear reminder that one person’s trash can really be another’s treasure.
