Kisumu is one part of Kenya I have yet to visit. Happily, the area has come to me instead, in the form of the annual exhibition of the Lake Basin Arts Group.

This band of brothers (no sisters on show, although I would like to think women are welcomed) derives its inspiration from the scenery and activities around the lake… a loyal celebration by artists of the land of their birth — and as such, I would like to add that it should be highly commended.

I would like to add that, but unfortunately… the overall standard is uneven and in that lies a microcosm of the problems of rural-urban migration. If you are any good, the argument goes, you get yourself to the capital, place yourself in the care of one of the big name galleries, and paint or sculpt away until rewarded by a glittering client list, international fame and an embarrassingly huge accumulation of wealth.

Or not.

You may care to ask the big city dwellers Thom Ogonga, the Okello clan and Fred Abuga if it is true.

The development of Kisumu as a regional crossroads could end such migration, however, and generate success for those who opt to stay.

Already there are signs of a regeneration of interest in the provincial arts scene. William Ndwiga of the Nairobi-based Little Art Gallery has set up a satellite in Kisumu, while at the other end of the country we have the Diani Beach Art Gallery serving visitors to the Coast.

Meanwhile we have what we have, and what we have is represented by this charming collection of western Kenyan talent showcased at the National Museums, on Museum Hill, Nairobi.

Of the 32 paintings on offer, all but one were in acrylics on canvas, a medium chosen because of its cheapness, availability and speedy drying. What acrylics in these hands seemed to lack was the richness and luminosity of oils. Many of the pictures appeared chalky.

The exception to the all-conquering acrylics was one unlabelled confection of seeds, grasses, sisal, shells and a small gourd arranged into what may have been a vase of leaves.

Of the nine painters, Meshack Odera stood out for his strong sense of design, seen to advantage in a vase of red tulips, called Untitled II.

His Gauguinesque view of a couple of fishermen out in their boat was well observed, one of the men taking a swig from a pink plastic jug, and the scene was so presented that the viewer practically joined them in the hull. That one was called Untitled I.

An artist with no hesitation about naming his pictures was Vavick Odhiambo, who seemed to use titles irrespective of content.

His offering of a young woman in traditional costume sucking a lollipop was called Cultures Clash, yet I would have thought it was a happy melding of cultures rather than a clash. No matter; it’s his picture, he can call it what he will.

Coster Ojwang showed a shimmering lakeside scene called Fishy Business, but just when I was warming to his talent he spoiled things with the obligatory portrait of Mandela… and like so many, this likeness missed the mark.

From Victor Peko came an attractive view of hippos snorting in the lake, wreathed in a morning mist, while Odango (no other name given) showed his liking for pattern with The Power of Music. It echoed the Jazz Age, with its two women in silhouette against a matrix of dancing colours.

Daniel Ochieng, a new name to me, offered an interesting semi-abstract called Circles based on the heads of elephants.

This annual show, in spite of my reservations about overall quality, offered much to enjoy.

Somewhat less enjoyable was an exhibition on the other side of the museum called Controlled Chaos.

The artist, one Amandeep Singh, undoubtedly had talent — as an enthusiastic salesgirl was keen to point out — but it was of the commercially driven, superficial kind you tend to find in advertisements.

The exhibition of around 36 rather gaudy illustrations (bright yellows next to magentas and streaks of viridian) featured gurus, temples and Sikhs plus a few mystical scenes, one of which included a toucan.

All were well drawn and professionally presented. So why did this show leave me depressed? I am always banging on about the need to underpin art with some fundamental skills. Perhaps it was because that here there were the skills but not, for me, the art.