Paying the Price for Creativity in Lagos and Abuja
By Tejiri, Off the Record Blog Feature
The Cost of Creativity Has Skyrocketed
The vibrant creative scenes in Lagos and Abuja have long been a point of pride in Nigeria. Yet, for many up-and-coming artists, filmmakers, and content creators, these cities are becoming prohibitively expensive creative playgrounds. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, the cost of using everyday locations for creative projects has surged – in some cases doubling or tripling compared to pre-2020 rates. Young musicians shooting music videos, photographers planning photo shoots, and influencers filming content are all feeling the squeeze. What used to be a nominal fee or a friendly handshake agreement for using a venue has morphed into demands for exorbitant cash payments, often on the spot.
Nigerian music star Timaya recently lamented how production expenses have exploded. “Before, we used to shoot music videos for ₦1.5 million. Today, it’s ₦50 million, ₦60 million, even ₦100 million,” he said premiumtimesng.com. While he was referring to overall budgets, it underscores a broader trend: every aspect of creating art – from hiring videographers to renting locations – now comes with a much higher price tag. Post-pandemic economic hardships and inflation have hit Nigeria especially hard premiumtimesng.com, and the creative industry is no exception. Venue owners and even public authorities, facing their own financial pressures, have hiked up the fees for anyone looking to use their space as a backdrop for creativity.
caught in golden stillness. The sky holds its breath— a pale warmth wrapping the city in haze. This is Harmattan’s hush, a dry-season lull where dust kisses the light and shadows stretch a little longer. Yellow buses move like notes in a restless symphony, bridges arch like verses across the island's pulse. Beneath it all, Lagos hums— loud, alive, unburdened by time. A city not just seen— but felt, like the echo of drums in the evening
From Lounges to Fast-Food Joints: “Settling” for a Location
For emerging artists, the challenges often start with finding an affordable location for a shoot or performance. In Lagos and Abuja today, lounges, hotels, clubs, and even fast-food restaurants often charge steep fees for access, far beyond the reach of a young creative’s budget. Many recall a pre-pandemic era when an aspiring artist could convince a cafe manager to let them film a music video after hours for a token amount. Now that same request might be met with a fixed rate card running into hundreds of thousands of naira – or a curt demand to “settle” (slang for paying a bribe) the staff before any camera can roll.
Take the example of Peter Fresh, a Nigerian-Belgian artist who recently returned to Lagos to film a music video. He chose the iconic Federal Palace Hotel area as a backdrop, assuming its open grounds would be accessible. Instead, Peter was stopped by security personnel who insisted on an immediate cash payment just to continue filming – even though it was an outdoor space he thought was public. “I was shocked,” Peter recounts. “I only had a small camera and a three-person crew, but the security guard acted like we were a Hollywood production disrupting the peace. He said we must pay him on the spot or pack up our gear.” The fee demanded was unofficial – essentially an extortionate bribe – and far beyond what a local up-and-comer could afford for a single scene. Peter Fresh’s experience is increasingly common: countless young creatives swap stories of being shaken down for money by guards and managers at locations around the city.
Even fast-food outlets and malls – places where youth culture thrives – have joined the trend. Some social media comedians in Lagos narrate how attempting to film a quick skit inside a popular fast-food restaurant can lead to staff or security pulling them aside. “They said I needed to pay ₦50,000 to the manager just to use my phone camera in the corner for 5 minutes,” one TikToker in Abuja told us, describing an incident at a local eatery. What was once a harmless bit of fun is now treated as a commercial enterprise to be monetized at every turn.
Why this sudden clampdown? Venue owners argue that professional shoots could disrupt business or require compensation, which is fair to an extent. However, the new fees seem wildly out of proportion, especially after 2020. Creatives suspect that many businesses see the booming Nigerian entertainment industry – with its YouTube millions and Instagram fame – and want a cut for themselves. A lounge owner in Abuja, for example, justified a ₦200,000 charge to an upcoming singer for a video shoot by citing “policy” and potential “exposure” for the artist. In reality, that artist hadn’t even hit the limelight yet. The policy appears to be: if you want our space, be prepared to empty your wallet.
Public Spaces That Aren’t So Public Anymore
Perhaps most alarming is how supposedly public spaces are becoming pay-per-use zones for creatives. Parks, beaches, roadsides, and other open areas in Lagos and Abuja are policed by a mix of official security and unofficial muscle, all on the lookout for anyone with a camera. The moment a tripod goes up or a drone flies, someone is likely to approach with an outstretched hand.
In theory, public parks are for everyone. In practice, authorities have set high official fees for creative use. The Lagos State Parks agency, for instance, now charges ₦500,000 per day for a “product photoshoot” in a public park, and up to ₦1,000,000 per day for filming a music video lasparkportal.lagosstate.gov.ng lasparkportal.lagosstate.gov.ng. Compare that to just ₦5,000 for an individual taking personal photos in the same park lasparkportal.lagosstate.gov.ng. The message is clear: if your creativity even smells like commerce or youth culture content, you’ll be charged top dollar for using public space. These rates have ballooned since before 2020, when such structured fees barely existed or were far lower. Many young directors simply laugh in disbelief at the idea of raising a million naira per day just to shoot in a park – a cost that might exceed their entire project budget.
Worse still, not all charges are official. In Lagos, the presence of “area boys” – local thugs who hang around public areas – has long been a reality. Now, they too have sensed opportunity in the creative boom. Film crews recount being aggressively accosted by these groups the moment they unload equipment on the street. “Once they see us turn off the main road, they chase our equipment bus,” one Nollywood filmmaker revealed. “They won’t even plead, they just block our way and demand, ‘Owo wa da?’ (Yoruba for ‘where is our money?’) before we can proceed.” In one notorious incident on the Lagos Island, a small documentary team was effectively held hostage by louts who insisted on a “settlement” fee for the community – even though the crew had a state filming permit in hand. Such extortion by local gangs has “skyrocketed production cost” for Nigerian filmmakers, according to a Punch Newspaper investigation punchng.com. What used to be an occasional nuisance has now become a predictable line item in a production budget: you either budget to pay off these informal gatekeepers or risk your shoot being shut down (or worse, your gear damaged).
Even uniformed security personnel get in on the action. Photographers in Abuja have described how security guards at certain public monuments or government buildings will intervene if they see a photoshoot, citing “security reasons” – but the standoff often ends once some cash quietly exchanges hands. It’s a thin line between official enforcement and opportunism. The result is that young creatives feel unwelcome in their own city spaces. A simple outdoor photoshoot that might be free in other countries becomes an obstacle course of fees, negotiations, and bribes in Lagos and Abuja.
The Global Contrast: Support in London and Nashville
These problems stand in stark contrast to how global creative hubs treat their artists in public spaces. In cities like London and Nashville, public creativity is often supported or at least regulated in a fair, transparent manner – not monetized exploitatively at every turn.
Take London, for example. As one of the world’s busiest filming locales, London certainly has rules – but they are clear and structured. The city is divided into boroughs, each with a film office where you can apply for permits easily filmlondon.org.uk. Small-scale street filming with a tiny crew is usually hassle-free. In fact, official guidance in London notes that for crews of five people or fewer with hand-held gear, filming on the street is “quite straightforward” filmlondon.org.uk – often no formal permit or fee is even required as long as you’re not causing a public disturbance. Compare that with Lagos, where even a one-man videographer can attract a horde of “authorities” asking for money.
In London’s truly public spaces (like Trafalgar Square or the Royal Parks), you do need permission filmlondon.org.uk, but the process is handled by the city and fees (if any) go into public coffers with accountability. There’s no random guard pocketing cash; you apply to the council or management, pay a standard fee, and you’re good to go. Many emerging UK artists and student filmmakers can film in public with minimal bureaucracy, allowing them to hone their craft without going broke. Street performers (buskers) in London are often free to perform or need only a simple license – the city sees them as adding color, not as nuisances to be taxed arbitrarily.
And then there’s Nashville, Tennessee – the famed “Music City” known for nurturing talent. Walk down Broadway and you’ll find dozens of bars and lounges inviting young musicians to play at open mics or songwriter nights. These venues often don’t charge artists to perform; on the contrary, they provide a stage and an audience because they know supporting new talent is the lifeblood of the music scene. Public spaces in Nashville, too, are far more accessible. The city’s Metro Parks department offers a film/photo permit for as low as $125 per day for local residents (about ₦100,000) nashville.gov – and even a yearly permit for $250 that gives you access to all parks nashville.gov. That permit allows unlimited visits to shoot in any public park during normal hours nashville.gov. In other words, with one permit that costs the equivalent of a single day’s park fee in Lagos, a Nashville creative can film all year round across dozens of parks. The contrast is stark: Nashville’s authorities actively make it easier and cheaper for creatives to use public spaces, whereas Lagos State charges a small fortune for each day.
Moreover, public creativity is part of Nashville’s identity. Open mic nights (which are typically free to sign up for) are a staple, and the community and businesses take pride in “discovering” new talent rather than squeezing them. Cities like London, Nashville, New York, or Los Angeles certainly have commercial venue hire fees too – you can pay a lot to shoot on a private stage or high-end location – but there is a baseline of free or affordable public venues for grassroots creators. Importantly, creators in those places don’t live in fear that a security guard or a street hustler will extort them for simply expressing their art in public.
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This city doesn’t chase grandeur—it wears it.
Lagos and Abuja: Creative Capitals or Creative Captors?
Lagos loves to call itself “Africa’s entertainment capital” facebook.com, and Abuja as the nation’s center has aspirations to cultural vibrancy as well. The Nigerian government has unveiled big plans to grow the creative economy, aiming to turn Nigeria into a global creative powerhouse riotimesonline.com riotimesonline.com. But on the ground in these cities, one must ask: Are they truly fostering the artistic growth they claim to support, or stifling it?
It’s a troubling paradox. On one hand, Nigerian music, film, and art are reaching unprecedented global heights – Lagos is producing Afrobeats superstars and Nollywood is beloved across Africa. On the other hand, the up-and-comers who will be tomorrow’s stars are being nickel-and-dimed at every turn locally. How many talented young filmmakers or musicians have quietly abandoned a project because the “location fees” became too much? How many viral content ideas never got made because a uniformed official scared off the creators in a public square? The very culture that makes Lagos and Abuja attractive to investors and earns them international attention is being taxed and extorted internally in a way that could choke its future.
The post-pandemic era should be a time of creative renaissance – indeed, there’s an explosion of new voices and projects – but if every gate is locked unless you can pay double or triple the old toll, that renaissance will only favor the rich or well-connected. It calls to mind a poignant question: Do city leaders and business owners see young creatives as contributors to be encouraged, or as cash cows to be milked?
Hard Questions for Local Businesses and Authorities
Perhaps it’s time to hold a mirror up to those in Lagos and Abuja who control the spaces and purse strings. Beyond government policies, the attitude of private enterprises can either make or break a local creative ecosystem. Here are some hard questions that need answering:
Are bars and lounges letting new artists perform without charging them? In a true creative city, small venues serve as launch pads for talent. Do Lagos and Abuja bar owners welcome fresh singers and bands for free showcases, or do they ask artists to pay for stage time or bring a costly entourage?
Are clubs or fast-food brands giving back to the communities that build their culture? The youth often set trends and give these businesses free publicity on social media. Do brands reciprocate by supporting youth art programs, sponsoring open-mic nights, or allowing their premises to be used occasionally for creative projects at little to no cost? Or is it all one-way traffic where the creative energy is exploited for profit?
What role should private enterprises play in supporting local creativity, especially among emerging youth talent? It’s not just a moral question but a strategic one. If Nigeria’s creative industries are to grow, everyone from big hotels to corner restaurants can play a part. Should a hotel like Federal Palace have a policy of offering one day a month where indie filmmakers can apply to shoot for free? Can shopping malls designate “creative zones” where filming is allowed without harassment? Companies could implement corporate social responsibility initiatives that directly nurture young artists – be it granting free venue use, funding a community art space, or simply training their security staff to treat creatives with respect.
These questions don’t have easy answers, but posing them is the first step to changing the status quo. Right now, it often feels like many businesses in Lagos/Abuja want the clout of being in a “creative capital” without actually investing in the creatives themselves. They enjoy the cachet that comes when a famous music video is shot at their location (and the hefty fee that comes with it), but would they lift a finger to help a struggling young artist who has talent but not money?
Toward a More Creative-Friendly Future
It’s clear that something has to give. For Lagos and Abuja to truly nurture the next generation of artists, a mindset shift is needed – from both public officials and private sector players. This doesn’t mean everything should be free or that businesses shouldn’t make money. It means recognizing that art and culture thrive on access and opportunity. If every space is gated behind unfair fees, only the privileged will create, and that’s no recipe for cultural vibrancy.
There are some hopeful glimmers. A few forward-thinking businesses have started offering discounted “creative hours” for young people – for example, an Abuja café recently began allowing student photographers to use its space on slow weekday mornings at no charge. In Lagos, a collective of filmmakers is lobbying the state government to reconsider the blanket ₦1,000,000 park shooting fee, proposing a tiered system that waives fees for small local crews and first-time filmmakers. These are small steps, but important ones.
City authorities could also step in with better regulation and clear guidelines. If filming in a public space requires a permit, make that permit affordable and the process transparent. Perhaps create a one-stop creative permit that covers multiple locations at a subsidized rate for indie projects. And crucially, crack down on the unsanctioned extortion – no creative should have to fear harassment by “area boys” or rogue security when they have followed the rules. A stronger police handle on street extortion and a publicized channel for creatives to report harassment could deter many of these incidents.
For now, many Nigerian creatives persist in spite of the hurdles – a testament to their passion. As one young Lagos filmmaker told me, “We’ve learned to improvise. If they block one location, we find another. If we can’t afford the big fancy spots, we’ll use a friend’s rooftop. The stories will still be told.” This resilience is admirable, but it shouldn’t be an excuse for those in power to shrug off the problem. Imagine the explosion of creativity if the playing field were even a bit more fair – if artists could focus on art and not on paying off everyone in sight.
In global hubs like London and Nashville, part of what makes them creative havens is an unwritten social contract: the city benefits from the art, so it also supports the art. Lagos and Abuja need to embrace that philosophy, not just in words and branding but in concrete action. Otherwise, the slogan of being “creative capitals” will ring hollow.
In the end, nurturing creativity is in everyone’s interest. A music video shot in Lagos that goes viral brings attention (and sometimes investors or tourists) to the city. A hit song from an Abuja artist can put the city’s name on the global map. The more the local scene flourishes, the more everyone – including businesses – stands to gain in the long run. It’s time to move beyond short-term profiteering and think about the cultural legacy being built.
Closing Reflection: Will Lagos and Abuja choose to champion their young creatives or chase them away with relentless charges? The answer will determine whether these cities remain merely consumers of creative talent (enjoying the fruits when an artist “makes it”) or become true incubators of creative talent that launch the careers of tomorrow’s superstars. The world is watching, and so are Nigeria’s youth. It’s high time to ensure that the streets of our creative cities are paved with opportunity – not lined with tollbooths at every turn.
For the ones who listen between the lines—It’s been Off the Record.
