Bustle and bluster often conceal an otherwise inherent logic to ‘traditional’ markets and other local, communal systems of commerce. Vendors talk above one another, vying for your attention; people and goods move at opposing paces; there are at least 10 sellers within earshot at any particular spot. Yet, there is a choreography to the marketplace that unfolds through the day. Different street carts occupy the same space at different times, deferring to the routine of the city. People converge and disperse with the ebb and flow of different services. A familiar sight for many in 'developing' countries, traditional markets are places of gathering as much as they are sites of commerce. These public spaces, specifically the large informal markets of Lagos that deal in second-hand goods, waste and the surplus of the developed economies in the Global North, are the focus of Nigerian architect and curator Tosin Oshinowo's project on view at this year's Venice Architecture Biennale, Intelligens, curated by Carlo Ratti.

As Oshinowo highlights, markets are crucial to the socioeconomic fabric of Lagos, the largest urban agglomeration in Nigeria and one of the fastest-growing metropolitan regions in the world. Moreover, the city makes up 65 per cent of the country’s economic activities, making its market spaces doubly significant to the infrastructure of the city. Alternative Urbanism: Self-Organising Markets of Lagos, which won Oshinowo a special mention at the Biennale’s Golden Lion awards this year, thus foregrounds the ideals of a circular economy and collective resilience.

Focusing on the intensive methods of adaptation and resourcefulness prevalent in three 'self-organised' markets—Ladipo Market, Computer Village and Katangua—the display combines film, photography and on-ground data to depict how these spaces and the informal systems comprising them operate. Oshinowo Studio’s installation at the Arsenale in the Curator’s Showcase is conceived as a contained space, with three 3x3-metre walls that create a sense of enclosure. Within the installation, video documentations of the three markets play on loop, while on the outer walls, data and maps depicting the different zones and forces that shape the marketplace and its functions are enumerated. These diagrams were crafted in Katangua market from recycled denim, adhering to Ratti's circularity manifesto for the Biennale.

The Nigerian architect hopes to present the alternative urban condition of the markets—which emerge from grassroots as opposed to interventions from top-down systems of planning—as a future model for urbanism. In line with her curatorial theme for the 2023 Sharjah Architecture Triennial, the project unravels narratives of progress from the Global South that are predicated on scarcity, on need over desire. "To be able to develop the same scale of capital creation [as former colonisers], it involves either the exploitation of land, exploitation of resources or exploitation of labour. If you don't have these three things, you cannot create the same scale of development," she notes in conversation with STIR.

The reality, of course, is that colonial and capitalist models—both former and neo—still run on the exploitation of those in the ‘developing’ world, barring them from crossing the threshold into ‘developed’. Such exploitation is exacerbated by the climate crisis, incessant resource deficits and ceaseless migration from rural to urban areas that rapidly urbanising regions such as Lagos are particularly susceptible to. Despite contributing less than five per cent to global carbon emissions, regions in the Global South are expected to bear the brunt of the progressivist ideals of former colonial powers. They are expected to pursue an ideal of progress without the actual means for it. As Oshinowo continues, "We can't replicate [that scale of development]. So if we don't think realistically about creating [an other] urban condition, an urban condition that works off a different model, it [will] never be attainable."

Oshinowo began to fully build on this strand of research after her stint at Sharjah, building on the themes of resourcefulness that she touched on with the curatorial programme for the design event. Both projects vitally question what development would look like if viewed from the perspective of those cultures who have long been exploited, for whom the conditions of modernity—access to technology, conventional urban planning, resource distribution and transport infrastructures—were arrived at without becoming industrialised first. She hopes to reveal the spatial paradigms of such an impossible condition as a model for a future that can no longer depend on the mirage of excess. By focusing on how Nigerians adjust to conditions of modernity, and more specifically, make do with what is denied to them or thrust onto them, Oshinowo flips the gaze from what is conventionally seen as progress to a modernity that emerges from tradition.

While for Sharjah, touching on the traditional Arabic kasbahs, Oshinowo drew out threads of ephemeral architectures, and how that might become a more resourceful means of living, here she draws on the traditional connotations of informal Nigerian markets. As she notes to STIR, marketplaces hold special reverence within Yoruba culture. These have been indispensable spaces for indigenous peoples and are hence central to conceiving towns. Tracing their relevance to contemporary society, Oshinowo showcases the principles of circular design and resource efficiency underpinned in the operations of these markets. As she notes, mechanics and technicians in these enclaves can repair, recycle and regenerate ‘waste’ or ‘end-of-life’ items with extraordinary skill, countering hyperconsumerism and the idea of object obsolescence that has led to inordinate waste and planetary depletion. Such a response to adversity exists outside of normal modes of governance or planning, established by the resilience of local communities and the necessity for such ingenuity in the face of disparity. Highlighting the informal conditions through which these markets developed—catering to the influx of migrants from rural areas to Lagos—there is the suggestion that it is this that makes them intrinsic to the socioeconomic realities of people in Lagos.

For instance, Ladipo market, the largest auto parts market in West Africa, emerged due to Nigeria’s economic downturn in the 1980s, catering to people from lower economic backgrounds. Today, it has been pivotal to city expansion, a dynamic trade culture and skill upgradation for many migrants. Similarly, Computer Village, which deals in new and used electronics, evolved from a residential zone to a commercial one. No one knows how much area the market encapsulates, but it is a full-blown technology hub that generates over $2 billion in revenue yearly.

In conversation, Oshinowo shares fables of the miracles performed in these markets and how they parse otherwise structured policies and upend rules and systems. Ladipo, for instance, deals in car parts since cars are heavily taxed and boasts a cheaper assembled car than a new one. Traders in Computer Village can turn an iPhone 13 into an iPhone 13 Pro, sidestepping the fact that these devices are not made to be opened and upgraded. Even as Oshinowo spotlights how alternative models of urbanism present themselves as logical means to negotiate modernity, it is vital to note that the Lagos state government aims to develop the city into Africa’s model megacity through public private partnerships, that would effectually do away with ephemeral interventions in the name of the broader public good—through “urban renewal” and “inner city regeneration”.

In contrast, the films in Alternative Urbanism do not exoticise the image of poverty, but foreground the will of those who work within systems that do not see them. "The biggest issue is our perception of progress. And if we can change that, I think we are closer to finding a realistic solution to some of the world's biggest problems. The regions of the world that are at the forefront of this are the places that are working with scarcity, not because they want to, but because they've had to," she remarks in conversation with STIR. What's also worth considering in the project is the conception of an alternative – what that means, and its position within a showcase such as the one Ratti puts on at Venice.

The image of 'alternative' as a future paradigm for thinking-with communities in matters of development and urbanisation is a critical stance within Ratti’s showcase in the Arsenale. While many projects in Intelligens focus on adaptation through a technocratic lens, imagining design strategies that mould natural systems or digital and artificial technologies to their own ends, Oshinowo's call to look to cities in flux, shaped by the communities who inhabit them, is a hopeful interjection. As she comments, "I see a world where the regions that have been at the foreground of circularity become more important, because if they're the ones who are able to understand and develop technologies that allow us to complete the circle of waste, then they should become the pioneers as opposed to those that are producing the most.” Someday perhaps, sheer gumption may rule the world.

The 19th International Architecture Exhibition of La Biennale di Venezia is open to the public from May 10 to November 23, 2025. Follow STIR’s coverage of Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 (Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective) as we traverse the most radical pavilions and projects at this year’s showcase in Venice.