Nigerian Art Class Review

Spoiler: I survived

In our most recent poll, taking a Nigerian art class won at 42%, followed by “interview a Nigerian” at 32%. Unlike eating Nigerian food, I was looking forward to this one. Of course I took a friend. But this time, I didn’t have to recruit one. I got a legit volunteer! What? A milestone for the newsletter, for sure.

Art mural at Ceracerni in Lagos, Nigeria 2025

A few weeks ago, my camp friend, Alison, asked if she could join in one of my “Day in the Life,” adventures. As fate would have it, Alison is a self-proclaimed artist (“a semi-abstract expressionist” to be exact). She is also the biggest camp proponent of aqua-cise and works harder than anyone else on camp to keep our camp pool clean and cared for (not a small feat). For a long time, her WhatsApp tagline read, “trust me, I’m an artist.” Which did not make me trust her, but did make me like her. And she has a cat named Opal. I only share this because I think she’d want you to know. To be clear, I hate cats.

Also, as fate would have it, the only day we could all align our schedules was on Alison’s birthday. And as the American International School would have it, it was a “teacher only” day, so Ray and Teddy were obliged to join.

I figured the boys would have fun, as this was a spin art class, but Ray was pretty upset when we came to get him from a camp friend’s house, and he was forced to quit his Rocket League tournament.

All the same, we set out. I made Alison a birthday crown which she proudly wore. Of all people that don’t take themselves too seriously it’s artists. It took about 30 minutes to get to the art studio and Ray chose to use this time to moan loudly, as if in agony, to protest.

Despite much moaning, we arrived at Ceracerni’s art studio. This is undoubtedly a regular house turned into a “business” with zero signage to be found. This is common here. You just walk in the gate and pray you’re in the right place.

The first thing I noticed was that the outdoor patio space was nicely decorated. There were several pottery wheels with two children making pottery. Then there was a walkway of murals and a large wooden table with games for customers to partake in. Except two employees were enthralled in a board game. They didn’t even look up to greet us, they just continued taking turns rolling the dice and moving the pieces on the board.

Sometimes I forget customer service is not a thing here.

I can’t remember if I finally got the nerve to interrupt the employees’ game or went on a search for someone, but I eventually found a tall skinny Nigerian who at least acknowledged our presence. He demanded I show a confirmation that I had indeed signed up and paid for 4 people to take art classes. The sun was beating down, Ray was going strong with his moaning, and at this moment I wanted to scream, “I signed up on YOUR website, don’t YOU keep track of that somewhere?!”

Instead, I fished through my spam box for several minutes, grateful for my SPF 45. I finally found the confirmation email. But the skinny guy had wandered off. I re-tracked him down and showed him my confirmation. Thankfully, with that, he accepted we had booked a class and that he would need to do something at work that day. He began by taking us on a tour inside of the art house.

Ray, annoyed with the multiple delays, intensified his moaning.

Alison asked, “Is there an injured cow among us? I swear I hear some animal that’s injured”

Everyone laughed. Except Ray.

Inside the house/business was amazing. Each room was beautifully designed and painted, even the bathrooms. Here are a few of my favorite rooms:

It almost felt like we were back in America. Except the AC notably wasn't working in several rooms. The art cycle room, which was the activity we were signed up for, was especially hot. The air conditioner read 16 degrees Celsius (60 F), but this was fake news. It felt like a sauna in there.

Ray and Teddy exploring the art cycle at Ceracerni, 2025

Sweat dripped down my face, as the skinny guy explained how to do the art cycle. Thankfully, it was easy. Pick out 5 colors, pedal a somewhat questionably mounted bicycle which is connected to a gear situation and squirt the canvas as it spins. I let Ray and Teddy pick out my colors while Alison excused herself, to cool off for a minute in an effort to prevent a heat stroke.

I had brought a trash bag to wear, but the workers had plastic ponchos ready, so we didn’t get paint all over our clothes, a welcome surprise.

After a few minutes, Alison returned to the room, feeling a little better. The workers had prepped the paint bottles for squirting by that point and I put my poncho on. The thin plastic immediately stuck to my wet skin and became a type of cling wrap wetsuit only perpetuating my body heat. But nothing was going to stop me now.

Even Ray had stopped his moaning in the anticipation and excitement. Teddy, wanting to join me, climbed to an unsafe perch atop the handlebars of the bike. Something that would be banned in America for fear of a personal injury lawsuit.

I began cycling. The gears jumped and jerked loudly with every other pedal, but it worked! The thing spun round, and Teddy and I squirted paint colors all over the canvas.

Next was Alison’s turn. She requested to borrow my poncho, “to spare wasting another single-use plastic.” I warned her that it was soaked, but she went for it anyway, tearing off the wet sleeves and putting the big hole over her head. This is true commitment to the environment, people.

She spun and squirted her canvas. The instructor tried to give her tips to go faster, but she had her own artistic vision and told him, “I understand how physics works! I don’t want to go faster!” They eventually came to some mutual understanding of each other’s goals, and I think Alision was still happy with her final piece.

Next it was Ray and Teddy’s turn to do their art projects. The website specified that the art cycle was for “12 years and up only,” but Ray, freshly emerged from his cocoon of bad attitude, really wanted to do art cycle. His legs happened to be long enough for the pedals, and it's Nigeria, so the workers let the boys change their activity to art cycle without issue. Ray pedaled and squirted paint while Teddy stood on a half-broken chair so he could squirt paint on the canvas. We oohed and awed as the color spun across the canvas.

By the time we finished we were hot, thirsty and hungry. Just then a kind lady delivered two cold Fantas, two cold Cokes and a few plates of puff puff (a sweet fried bread similar to a donut hole), fried chicken and vegetable spring rolls to the room. Initially I planned to not touch the food. As you remember, in my previous post I learned what I already knew: Nigerian food isn't for me. But it smelled so good, and we ended up all digging in. Some of the food was spicy but to my surprise, it was all delicious.

Finally, we were led back outside to the outdoor patio and table of games while our paintings dried. The workers were no longer playing the board game…maybe they had even gone to do their work?

The boys entertained themselves by building houses and fences out of Jenga blocks. The tall skinny guy delivered our paintings to us once they were dry. With that we took a few more photos, and we made our way back to camp.

Overall, I give Ceracerni’s an 8.5/10 as this was really a fun place. The majority of the point deduction being due to lack of AC.

On the way home I asked Ray if he had fun after all.

“Kinda.” He replied.

Which sounded like code for, “I loved it, but don’t dare damage my pride with such an admission.”

PS.

I’m headed to France on Wednesday! I'm joining a girlfriend from America for a long weekend of cheese, croissants and pretentious French things. Because of this, our regular monthly newsletter will be delayed to Monday March 10th. If you have complaints, come join me in Paris and you’ll forget all about them.

You can vote on our next “Day in the Life” activity in that newsletter. For now, au revoir!