What Kuona theft says about Kenya’s creative economy

For more than five days, artists Nadia Wamunyu and Patti Endo lived in uncertainty after a combined 24 art pieces were stolen from their studios at the Kuona Artists Collective on Dennis Pritt Road.

The incident has sparked fresh concerns around security in creative spaces and what art theft signals about growing local appreciation for Kenyan work

The missing works came to light when Patti, who works next to Nadia, discovered two of her own pieces were missing on March 26. She took to Instagram to alert fellow artists and art lovers. Her post quickly went viral, triggering a wave of support that eventually led to the works being returned on March 27.

“When I posted, people really responded,” Patti said. “They were forwarding information and looking out.”

When the BDLife met them at Kuona, a section of their walls stood bare — spaces that only a week earlier had displayed carefully framed works. Nadia remained visibly shaken, fielding hugs and quiet support from colleagues.

Initial investigations suggested the theft was an inside job. While there were claims about the suspect’s mental health, both artists remained cautious about speculation.

“No one wants to come forward with the full truth,” Patti said. “It feels like the person thought they could impersonate me and sell my work at a lower price.”

Security gaps were also evident. Kuona has no full-time administrative office like a formal gallery; the collective is coordinated by a volunteer team and runs largely on trust among artists.

The night of the theft, there was no guard on duty and no CCTV coverage. The artists have since raised the matter with the property’s landlord.

The theft has drawn attention not just because of what was taken, but also for what it reveals about the changing status of art in Kenya.

“From a sadistic point of view, a culture’s art comes of age when it is worth stealing,” Kenyan writer Morris Kiruga once wrote in a blog post on major Kenyan art thefts.

Several commenters on social media echoed this view, suggesting that the theft, while traumatic, might signal that art is finally being recognised as a store of value.

Art dealer Shine Tani, founder of Banana Hill Art Gallery, said theft often involves intermediaries who sell pieces well below their actual worth.

“There are times when a buyer realises they’ve been sold a stolen piece and returns it,” he said, recalling a similar case at his gallery.

According to Tani, some stolen art may be pre-sold, making it hard to trace once it changes hands, especially if it leaves the country. Even clients can be culprits.

“We’ve caught people trying to sneak out pieces before,” he said. His gallery eventually increased security to protect both artworks and patrons.

Still, a lack of structured legal and institutional support remains a challenge. Renowned artist Patrick Mukabi recalls trying to report stolen works at a police station.

“They didn’t take me seriously until I mentioned the value — Sh200,000,” he said.

Mukabi believes interest in art is growing. “About 80 percent of my buyers are Kenyans,” he said. “They understand the value of what we create.”

But with that appreciation comes the risk of opportunism. Art theft may now be more than an isolated issue; it may reflect the increasing commodification of creative labour.

Under Kenya’s Copyright Act (2001), visual artworks are protected as intellectual property. The Penal Code also provides for imprisonment for theft, including stolen art.

But enforcement remains patchy.

The recovery of the Kuona pieces has brought relief, but also a call to action. For artists like Nadia and Patti, trust within collectives must now be balanced with better systems of protection.

“If someone can just walk away with our work,” Patti said, “we need to ask harder questions.”

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