Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
MODERNISM
Decolonization in
Twentieth-Century
Nigeria
P O S TCO LO N I A L
MODERNISM
Art and
CH I K A OKE KE-A G U LU
In memory of my father
CONTENTS
ix
List of Illustrations
xiii Acknowledgments
1
INTRODUCTION Postcolonial Modernism
21
CHAPTER 1 Colonialism and the Educated Africans
39
CHAPTER 2 Indirect Rule and Colonial Modernism
71
CHAPTER 3 The Academy and the Avant-Garde
131
CHAPTER 4 Transacting the Modern: Ulli Beier,
Black Orpheus, and the Mbari International
183
CHAPTER 5 After Zaria
227
CHAPTER 6 Contesting the Modern: Artists Societies
and Debates on Art
259
CHAPTER 7 Crisis in the Postcolony
291 Notes
313 Bibliography
327 Index
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
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List of Illustrations
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FIGURE 3.18
Bruce Onobrakpeya, Eketeke vbe Erevbuye (Two Laziest People), 1961, 113
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Bruce Onobrakpeya, sketch for a panel of his Covered Way mural (detail),
1960, 144
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FIGURE 4.8
Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke at the opening of the Mbari Ibadan
inaugural art exhibition, 1961, 152
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List of Illustrations
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1914, 167
FIGURE 4.19
Jacob Lawrence, The Migration of the Negro, No. 22, 19401941, 170
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Head, classical style, Nok culture, ca. 400 bce200 ce, 203
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xi
List of Illustrations
xii
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE MATERIAL AND IDEAS gathered in this book came to life two decades
Acknowledgments
xiv
Sonoiki, of Art House Contemporary Ltd, Lagos; Vilma Eid, of Galeria Estao, So Paulo; and Ulf Vierke and Sigrid Horsch-Albert, of Iwalewa-Haus,
University of Bayreuth; they all helped me find many of the rare images
published in this book. Many thanks to Chike Dike and the late Emmanuel
Arinze for giving me access to the collections of the National Gallery of Art
and the National Council for Arts and Culture, respectively. My appreciation
also goes to Afolabi Kofo-Abayomi for giving me access to his private art collection, and to Chinwe Uwatse, Ndidi Dike, Ego Uche-Okeke, Peju Layiwola,
John Ogene, Ngozi Akande, Teena Akan, Chuma Okadigwe, Kolade Oshinowo, Hilary Ogbechie, Oliver Enwonwu, Olasehinde Odimayo, and Chike
Nwagbogu; and to my dear friends Uche Nwosu and Tony Nsofor, who assisted me in my research in Nigeria.
In England, I benefited from the valued advice and assistance of John
Picton, Doig Simmonds, John Murray, Christopher Atkinson, and Grant
Waters. I thank Ibrahim El Salahi for granting me a three-day interview at
his residence in Oxford. My gratitude goes to Nnorom Azuonye and Eddie
Chambers, who accommodated me and helped me find my way around London and Bristol while on research in the summer of 2003. I appreciate the
assistance given to me by the following: Helen Masters, of the British Empire and Commonwealth Museum, Bristol; Malcolm Staig, the archivist at
Goldsmiths college library, London; Lucy Dean, Simon Lane, and Dorothy
Sheridan, at the University of Sussex; Catherine Russell, at the Otter Gallery of Art, University of Chichester; Lucie Marchelot, of Bonhams, London;
Jessica Iles, of Browse & Darby, London; and Martine Rouleau, of the University College London Art Museum, London. Thanks, too, to Akin Adesokan,
Koyo Kouoh, Alioune Badiane, Hamady Bocoum, and Joanna Grabski for
their assistance with research on images.
I MUST MENTION THE most rewarding time I spent with the late Ulli Beier
and with Georgina Beier in Sydney, Australia, in the summers of 2000, 2005,
and 2009. The interviews and conversations that often continued until early
in the morning remain most memorable. I thank them also for giving me access to the vast Ulli and Georgina Beier Archive and for the frequent discussions and exchange of mails on their incomparable experience of African art
and culture. In a way, this book is in part a testament to Ullis unparalleled
work in modern Nigerian art and literature.
In the United States, several people have been of tremendous help in the
course of my research for this book. These include Janet Stanley, of the Na-
Acknowledgments
tional Museum of African Art Library, and Simon Ottenberg, Rebecca Dimling Cochran, Peri Klemm, and Dianne Stewart. I thank Okwui Enwezor
and Salah M. Hassan, my colleagues and coeditors at Nka: Journal of Contemporary African Art, with whom I have shared and debated issues relating to
African artistic modernism and specific aspects of this work over the years.
I have benefited also from working with Enwezor on several art exhibitions
that have helped me think through some of the important arguments presented in this study.
I thank James Meyer, Clark Poling, and Bruce Knauft, whose intellectual
generosity shaped my scholarly life at Emory University and beyond. I remain ever grateful to Sidney Kasfir as my mentor and friend; she kept insisting that I finish work on this book before life happened to it. I must mention Kobena Mercer, Esther Da Costa-Meyer, Simon Gikandi, Steven Nelson,
Peter Erickson, Valerie Smith, Okwui Enwezor, Salah M. Hassan, Sidney
Kasfir, Obiora Udechukwu, and Ada Udechukwu, all of whom read earlier
versions of this books manuscript and provided invaluable comments on it.
Through the process of writing this book, since its earliest iterations, I
received invaluable research funding and fellowships from Emory University, the Pennsylvania State University, Williams College, the Sterling and
Francine Clark Art Institute, the Woodrow Wilson Fellowship Foundation, and most importantly, Princeton University. Thanks to Hal Foster and
Thomas Leisten, at the Department of Art and Archaeology, and to Valerie
Smith and Eddie Glaude, at the Center for African American Studies, Princeton University, for allowing me generous research time and the resources I
needed to complete this book and bring it to its present form. I am especially
thankful to the Barr Ferree Fund, whose generous funding made the many
color reproductions in this book possible. I also wish to thank Monica Rumsey, my copyeditor; Ken Wissoker, the editorial director at Duke University
Press, for believing in this work long before it became a publishable manuscript; and Elizabeth Ault and Jessica Ryan for guiding me through the rigors
of manuscript preparation.
I will never forget Enee Abelman, Sarah, Sharon and Larry Adams, Olu
Oguibe, Simon Ottenberg, Toyin Akinosho, Jahman Anikulapo, Chinwe
Uwatse, Ndidi Dike, Janet Stanley, and Alhaji Abdulaziz Udefriends I met
along the way and who supported me and my work. My deepest gratitude
goes to Obiora and Ada Udechukwu, with whom I shared so many experiences before and after the dark days at Nsukka; and to Okwui Enwezor and
Salah M. Hassan, two most enduring friends.
Finally, I must mention here my deep gratitude to my mother, Joy Egoyibo
xv
Acknowledgments
xvi
Okeke-Agulu (Aruagbala), my brothers, Okwudili, Ikechukwu, and Ejikeme, and my sisters, Ogoegbunam and Onyinyechukwu, for supporting me
during all these years. My late sister, Uzoamaka, and brother, Uchechukwu,
saw the beginning of this work but not its completion in the form of this
book. I offer it to their memory. To Marcia, my dearest friend and wife: no
words can express enough my debt to you for sticking with me through the
rough yet exhilarating years that began at the House of Hunger and the art
studios in Nsukka and for being the mother of our most precious children,
Arinzechukwu and Ngozichukwu, who have made my life complete.
Introduction
POSTCOLONIAL
MODERNISM
during the first half of the twentieth century and its elaboration in the decade
of political independence, roughly between 1957 and 1967. It covers the decades of colonization yet focuses on the Art Societya group of young artists
whose careers began while students at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science
and Technology, Zaria, and in whose work we find the first concerted articulation of artistic modernism in postindependence Nigeria. In revisiting the
debates within the contemporary art world that emerged in Nigeria during
this decade, this book argues that by proposing the idea of natural synthesis,
which basically meant the selective use of artistic resources and forms from
Nigerian/African and European traditions, these artists inaugurated postcolonial modernism in Nigeria.
Consistent with the idea of natural synthesis is the acknowledgment and
appropriation of technical procedures and sensibilities inherent in modernism, particularly the deployment of experimental rigor and zeal to develop
Introduction
radically new formal modes. The results are works of art that show both a
deep connection with local artistic traditions and the stylistic sophistication
we have come to associate with twentieth-century modernist practices. In
embarking on this crucial work, these artists were inspired by the rhetoric and ideologies of decolonization and nationalism initiated by early black
nationalists Edward Blyden (18321912) and Herbert Macaulay (18641946)
and later by advocates of negritude and pan-Africanism, thus reminding us
that it is impossible to imagine modernism in Nigeria (and Africa) outside a
wider context of cultural nationalism. Notwithstanding that what I call the
independence generation of artists built on the achievements of their modern predecessors in Nigeria, their workas this book amply showswas
radically different in terms of both its formal ambition and the vigorous critical discourse it fostered. In mapping the emergence of this new work during
the period of national independence, this book demonstrates the specific
ways that aspiration to and experience of political sovereignty, in the hands
of young Nigerian artists, was translated into an artistic modernism closely
aligned to the experience and realities of Nigerias postcolonial modernity.
What is more, in the way it follows the antagonistic relationship between
the colonial regime and Lagos-based intellectual elite, the debates among
colonial art educators, curricular strategies within the art department at
Nigerias first art school at Zaria, where the Art Society was formed, and the
art criticism and national cultural programs in the early 1960s, the book
argues that modernism and political ideology, in the context of decolonizing
nations, were not mutually exclusive discourses. In fact, the books point,
mooted already by Elizabeth Harney and Geeta Kapur but without the directness attempted here, is that the conjunction of art and nationalist ideology is an important characteristic of postcolonial modernism as an international mid-twentieth-century phenomenon.1 This book thus crucially maps
the unprecedented, largely ill understood, yet fundamental artistic, intellectual, and critical networks in four Nigerian citiesZaria, Ibadan, Lagos,
and Enuguconnecting Nigerian, African, African diaspora, and European
artists, critics, and the cultural elite during the continents decade of independence.
The reader will also notice that this book goes beyond art as such, occasionally bringing into view my own reading of literature produced by Nigerian writers during this period. This approach is prescribed by the deep entanglements of modern art, literature, and drama as indexed in the journal
Black Orpheus and the Mbari Artists and Writers Club, Ibadantwo signal
forums of mid-twentieth century African and black artistic and literary mod-
Introduction
ernism. Still, the books underlying premise is that it is impossible to develop a historical perspective on modern and contemporary African art of the
twentieth century and beyond without the sort of close examination of the
political, discursive, and artistic transactions and translations that brought
modern art from the margins of cultural practice during the colonial period
to the very center of debates about African artistic subjectivity and cultural
identity in the years after the attainment of political sovereignty.
My hope, therefore, is that this book might serve as a model of the kind of
much needed expansive history of modern African art. It lays bare the often
ignored yet critical connections between political developments and transactions in the cultural-artistic landscape, and it places the work of individual
artists or their intellectual motivations and ideas within a larger context of
similar or antagonistic positions advanced by other artists and stakeholders
of an evolving art world. In fact, it is this kind of studywhich maps the primary political and cultural scene of modern art but also engages in a focused
reading of the work of exemplary and leading artists involved in the making
of these historiesthat African art history scholarship urgently needs. To
be sure, dual attention to the big picture and close analysis in one book can
have its shortcomings, but I would argue that the gains of such an approach
are inestimable for two reasons. First is that to date our understanding of the
development of modernism in Nigeria and Africa remains at the very best
fragmentary; a most pressing task of art history is reconstructing that history not so much to understand the art of yesterday as to appreciate how it
shapes the more familiar landscape of contemporary art. Second, in order to
show the very processes and contexts from which modernism emerged, as
well as its ambitions, arguments, and visual rhetoric, we must perforce embark on a meticulous reading of particular artists and their works and ideas,
which are central to this history. These two considerations inform the architecture of this book in the sense that in it I begin with the making of anticolonial subjectivity and with colonial modernism as a way to situate intellectual
and ideological origins of the work associated with the Art Society during
the independence period. In so doing, I strike a balance between narrating
through a selective compression of a sociopolitical history of Nigeria and a
critical examination of contemporary writings, as well as a formalist analysis
of specific artworks and technical protocols deployed by key artists. In the
process, I sidestep deep engagements with biographies of the individuals,
except in the rare instance where such information is relevant to the ideas
associated with such persons.
From the vantage point of researching and writing this book, I can already
Introduction
see the salience of its key arguments in the modern art of various African
countries, where groups of artists during the mid-twentieth century confronted similar colonial conditions and subsequently developed versions of
what this book calls postcolonial modernism. One need look only at the Old
Khartoum school in the Sudanwhere together with his colleagues, Ibrahim
El Salahi (born 1930), who figures in this study courtesy of the presentation of his work at Mbari, Ibadan, and in Black Orpheus, articulated a modernism built upon artistic resources from Islamic calligraphy, indigenous
Sudanese craftwork, and modernist pictorial techniquesor at the work of
the schools contemporaries, who formed the school of Casablanca and for
whom, in addition to everything else, Berber visual arts and ritual signs became primary sources for reimagining their work as modern artists. There
are other, similar manifestations in Egypt, Ghana, Algeria, Ethiopia, and so
on; what they have in common is that the impulse to rethink their work was
often catalyzed by their identification with the rhetoric of decolonization and
the attainment of national political independence. But these topics have yet
to be subjected to the kind of rigorous examination this book attempts on
Nigeria. What we have, instead, are isolated views of these important moments, studies of individual artists or groups, and writings that have inserted
these artists and their work into disconnected, ahistoric thematic rubrics.2
It is important to stress two other crucial points of this book, besides illuminating what until now has been a mythic, modernist era in Nigeria. First,
it is an attempt to plug a gaping hole in the art history of twentieth-century
Nigeria and, by extension, Africa. With the significant entry of contemporary
African artists into the international arena in the 1990s, and especially during the first decade of the twenty-first centurya phenomenon announced
by the 2004 ArtNews magazine cover Contemporary African art: The newest
avant-garde?understanding the genealogy of this new art has become
pressing. Is it really possible to fully understand, say, the magnificent metal
and wood sculptures of El Anatsui, the world-renowned Ghanaian-Nigerian
artist (born 1944), without any knowledge of his intellectual connections to
two Mbari artists, Uche Okeke and Vincent Kofi, and to Kwame Nkrumahs
politics and the rhetoric of African personality? The answer to this question will depend on how much we know about the influences that the artists presented in this book exerted on later artists, such as Anatsui in Nigeria and elsewhere, and about the ideas that informed their work during the
independence decade. Consider, for instance, that at the end of the Biafran
War (19671970), Uche Okeke (born 1933) became head of the art school at
Nsukka. He soon reorganized the art program and more or less institutional-
Introduction
ized natural synthesis, thus becoming the leader of the Nsukka school, which
was famous for its exploration of Igbo Uli and other West African traditional
graphic forms. It was this new school of artists, with its growing international reputation, that Anatsui joined in 1975, convinced of the relevance of
its curricular ideology to his own artistic sensibilities, which were already
primed by his attraction to Nkrumahs cultural politics.3 Knowledge of this
connection between Anatsui and Okeke and, by extension, between Anatsui
and postcolonial modernism facilitates a longer historical perspective of contemporary African art and troubles the trope of surprising newness that has
tended to follow, like a wondrous shadow, the work of even the most accomplished African artists today.
The second reason the history narrated in this book is important has already been insinuated in the preceding paragraph: the profound impact that
the work of the Art Society artists and similar groups in other countries had
on late twentieth-century Nigerian and African art. Apart from the fact that
by the late 1960s, which marks one chronological bookend of this study,
these artists (and their colleagues in Lagos) had become the acknowledged
leading figures in modern Nigerian art, their influence grew exponentially
in the subsequent decades. Take, for instance, three key artists presented.
Along with Okeke and his work at the Nsukka school, Demas Nwoko (born
1935) established himself as a major architect who, perhaps more than any
other modern Nigerian architect, articulated through his designs the successful synthesis of traditional Igbo, Japanese, and Western architectural design and principles.4 Bruce Onobrakpeya (born 1932), building on the printmaking techniques he discovered in the mid-1960s (see chapter 5) but also
on the massive network of artists associated with his studio in Lagos, became
one of Nigerias and Africas most influential artists. The stature and influence of their other colleaguesamong them Yusuf Grillo, Erhabor Emokpae,
and Jimo Akolois no less illustrious. In short, even within the irrefutably
complex, multiple trajectories that constitute contemporary Nigerian art in
the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, the idea of natural synthesis articulated by Okeke and the Art Society remains strong. This book
thus helps contextualize and historicize contemporary Nigerian and African
artists relationship with the postcolony and to make sense of the expanded
landscape of art since the last two decades of the twentieth century.5
The material presented here is the result of twenty years of sustained research, beginning with my very first major effort at organizing an art exhibition in the early 1990s. Sometime in 1992, Obiora Udechukwu, my former
teacher and colleague at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, suggested that I
Introduction
organize a retrospective exhibition of Uche Okeke to mark his sixtieth birthday in April 1993. I had not met Okeke, but I was fascinated by the opportunity to get to really know him and his work, given his reputation as the doyen
of the Nsukka school and a mysterious national figure who at the time had
retired in near seclusion to his historic cultural research center, the Asele
Institute, Nimo. In the course of planning that exhibition I was led to an
era, in many ways a distant one, a meaningful appreciation of whose scope
and core motivations, politics and legacies, a reading of the major texts
Ulli Beiers Contemporary Art in Africa (1968), Marshall Ward Mounts African Art: The Years since 1920 (1973), Jean Kennedys New Currents, Ancient
Rivers (1992)had not prepared me. Nor did those texts help me understand
the relationship between the formal, discursive, and ideological dimensions
of the work of Okeke or other leading figures.6 Access to Okekes personal
archives, including his stunningly meticulous diary entries from the mid-
1950s through the 1960s, spurred my two-decade-long study, not just of his
work, but also of his surviving former Zaria colleagues and their contemporaries. In fact, it was this interest in the work of the Art Society artists and
their contemporaries that set me to writing this book; it also helped me conceptualize the curatorial collaborationwith my friend and colleague Okwui
Enwezorthat became the complex, traveling exhibition The Short Century:
Independence and Liberation Movements in Africa, 19451994, organized by the
Museum Villa Stuck, Munich, in 2001.7 Needless to say, The Short Century,
because of its continental scope, made me particularly aware of the similarities between modern art and the politics of decolonization in Nigeria and
Africa. It made me consider the broader, more challenging questions that
have dogged the perception of modern African art, all of which are connected
to its relationship with colonialism and Western art traditions, its apparent
inauthenticity and derivativeness, its supposed lack of comparative sophistication, its troubling intimacy with cultural nationalism, and its dubious
connection with African modernity. Let me address some of these matters
to better frame the critical challenges this book confronts.
Introduction
between British indirect rule ideology and its attendant cultural practices
and on the other from theories and ideas associated with African decolonization in the first half of the twentieth century. In tracing the genealogy
and the political-discursive conditions that catalyzed this new work, as I do
in the first two chapters, my task is to question routine assumptions about
the origins of modern art in Nigeria (and Africa) by resituating and reframing its ideological relationship with colonialist thought. This is an important
art-historical problem, no less because it had been normal for historians of
modern African art to see a seamless, unproblematic link between the establishment of art teaching in colonial schools or in workshops established by
European artist-teachers and the rise of modern art in Africa. The usual argument is that since formal art teaching began under the watch of colonial
regimes and since easel painting and academic art was imported into colonial Africa through these encounters, it follows that the art made by Africans
after this European type of art education is a product of colonialism and colonialist visions. Against these notions, this book sets out to disentangle artistic modernism from this supposed colonial imagination, returning it to the
long history of anticolonial, self-affirmative theories, practices, and visions
that began at the turn of the twentieth century. For it is all too clear, as I detail in the first chapter, that with the entrenchment of formal colonialism on
the continent, African and black intellectuals in fields as diverse as religion,
sociology, literature, art, and politics set for themselves the task of imagining
an African modern subjectivity defined primarily by their own need for self-
assertion and their visions of political and cultural autonomy. Even when this
task was not vociferously anticolonial, it often staked a claim to an alternative
position at odds with the schemes and propositions of colonial regimes and
their apologists. This will to self-definitionwhich characterized the African anticolonial and decolonization movementslaid the grounds for the
work of that generation of artists in Nigeria and elsewhere who participated,
midcentury, in the making of what this book calls postcolonial modernism.
The assumption of a causal link between colonialist thought and modern African art has resulted in the long-standing underestimation of or outright disregard for the artistic accomplishments represented by this work,
as well as doubts about the significance of its contribution to the expansion
of the horizons of modernisms of the twentieth century. It is in fact necessary to return to this rather old problem, precisely because its damning effect
on the reception of African modernist work remains with us today. Let me
cite three examples of how a particular perspective on the colonial history of
Africa has undermined the reception and appreciation of modern African art
Introduction
of the type covered in this study. In their classic 1964 book on African sculpture, two eminent ethnologists, the Briton William Fagg and the American
Margaret Plass, summarily dismissed the work of African modernists thus:
we are not concerned here with contemporary African art, which for all its
merits is an extension of European art by a kind of involuntary cultural colonialism.8 More than three decades later, a European museum curator confidently justified the marginalization of contemporary African art in international art exhibitions by noting that it seems like third-rate artwork to
us because the art presented here emulates the Western traditionthis is
a criterion for selectionand because it is always lagging behind, regardless of how commendable the effort might be basically.9 And finally, only a
few years ago the British scholar Rasheed Araeen declared the naturalistic,
colonial-era portrait paintings of Aina Onabolu to be a form of mimicry
under the tutelage of colonial paternalism.10 Central to these three assessments of modern African art are two important, unflattering assumptions
about this work: first, the idea that it is a weak copy, a product of involuntary
mimicry of European art; and second, its apparent belatedness, that is to say,
its perpetual condition of being out of time, quintessentially anachronistic,
and completely evacuated of any radical potential.11
But these arguments about mimesis and modern African art miss a crucial aspect of mimicry, which, as Homi Bhabha has suggested, produces
the representation of difference that is itself a process of disavowal.12 In
other words, they ignore the radical potential of self-consciously deployed
mimesis. Moreover, they sidestep the rather complex strategies adopted by
colonial subjects committed to asserting, even within the limited political-
discursive space available to them, their right to determine and articulate
their own visions of modernity. Indeed, early-twentieth-century radical nationalists saw native beliefs and cultural practices as important elements of
a modern subjectivity that was quite comfortable with negotiating, against
all odds, its relationship with Europe. Thus my argument in this book is that
this model of colonial-nationalist subjectivity informed the work of the independence generation of Nigerian artists who invented a modernist artistic
identity from a rigorous and confident synthesis of Western and indigenous
techniques, design elements, and styles. In doing so, they asserted that modernist and progressive artists must be willing to acknowledge in their work
the diverse contradictory local and foreign elements that constituted Nigerian and African modernity.
Introduction
Introduction
10
Introduction
his school-bound son to thoroughly master the white mans system of writing
upon which colonial governance is based, such that he could write with his
left handin other words, so he could do what he wished with this acquired
knowledge.19 Despite his antagonism for the colonial regime, Ezeulu saw in
the written word not just a gateway to the new world order but also a tool for
self-enunciation and navigation through the maze of confounding modernity. He was, like many an African cultural nationalist, fiercely protective
of his ancestral heritage and cognizant of the inexorable value of aspects of
Western modernity to the constitution of his sons subjectivity in the new,
colonial world. This same incorporative, compound consciousness of African subjectivity was what the proponents of negritude, African personality,
and similar anticolonial ideologies sought to recoup when they argued for
the inclusion of Africa and African traditions in the making of postcolonial
modernity. In proposing this idea of compound consciousness, my intention
is to place emphasis on the agency or choice-making facility of the individuals involved; in other words, they are simultaneously products and agents of
history. In this sense I agree with the art historian Henry J. Drewal, who has
argued that what he calls multiple consciousness of Afro-Brazilians is not
to be mistaken for syncretism, which implies a blending and homogenizing process. As he notes: I would suggest we recognize the distinctiveness
of each faith, the simultaneous interplay and juxtaposition of multiple beliefs and practices for persons whose histories demanded a refined, subtle,
and effective facility for multiple consciousness.20
The work of artists presented in this book, I reiterate, was motivated by
the need to imagine the postcolonial self as a compound consciousness that
constantly reconstituted itself by selective incorporation of diverse, oppositional, or complementary elements. This might help us come to terms, for
instance, with what can seem an intriguing incidence of Christian themes
in the work of many of these artists. The Christians among themsay, Uche
Okeke and Bruce Onobrakpeya, who are practicing Catholicsdepicted
themes from the Old and New Testaments as well as from Igbo and Urhobo
religions and folklore, as if to assert their equal sympathies for the doctrine
and legacies of both religions traditions. Similarly Yusuf Grillo, a devout
Muslim, executed many major commissions for Lagos churches, to the extent that we must imagine his having a considerable understanding of and
familiarity with Christian iconography and ritual aesthetics. What we take
from this is that the modernism of these artiststo cite Biodun Jeyifos argument about parallel developments in modern African literatureis a product of a replete African world which derives its deepest truths and resources
11
Introduction
12
Postcolonial Modernism
Why do I insist on calling the work of these Nigerian and African artists
postcolonial modernism? This question is especially pertinent since, for
nearly two decades now, art history and visual culture scholarship has seriously engaged the question of how this work by African (and Third World)
artists fits into the narrative template of modernism, which is traditionally
understood to be the aesthetic manifestation of Western modernity. What
we can see clearly is that, years after the final waves of decolonization blew
over the world in the mid-twentieth century, the scholarship began, slowly at
first, to consider the cultural implications of the sovereignties won by what
would be known as Third World countries in Africa, Asia, the Caribbean,
and elsewhere. Important work on the African diaspora and Latin America
exemplified by that of Paul Gilroy, Nestor Garcia Canclini, and David Cravensought to name, describe, and analyze the art, literature, and other
forms of expression produced within a context of colonial and postcolonial
modernity. Quite pertinently, there is a general consensus that in these parts
of the world, the tapestry of modernity and modernism was not just woven
from diverse multicultural threads but was forged during the colonial encounter, as well as from the intermixture of histories, cultures, and subjectivities before and after colonialism.
The question that confronts us, then, is how to describe the foundational
concerns of artists whose work was catalyzed by ideas of cultural and social modernity and informed by visions of progress within the context of
a sovereign nation. I am convinced of the appropriateness of calling this
work postcolonial modernism for two reasons. For one, it reflects my belief
that, given what we know today about the specific political, cultural, intellectual, and discursive contexts of the work of twentieth-century avant-gardes
everywhere, all manifestations of artistic modernism ought to be qualified
in some way to reflect their origins, particularities, and horizons. Moreover,
it makes sense to name all modernisms, so long asthis is importantsuch
acts do not tempt us to view them in hierarchical order. This is so simply because nothing I have seen in the histories of modernisms around the world
makes any particular one, whether it manifested earlier or later in the century, any more or less profound.
In proposing postcolonial modernism as an analytical concept for this
Introduction
13
Introduction
14
the wide-ranging reassessment of the cultural politics of [modernism] inaugurated in the late 1980s.24 In this book, I recuperate and reanimate the
critical ambitions of literary postcolonial modernism as a way to give analytical rigor to the work of artistic modernisms in Nigeria and the African
continent. As I detail in this book, the literatures that have been subjected to
analyses as exemplary of postcolonial modernism were produced in the same
discursive spaces and contexts as the works of art with which I am concerned
here. Whether in the pages of the literary journal Black Orpheus, founded
at Ibadan, Nigeria, in 1957, or within the Mbari Club in the 1960s, African writers (Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Eskia Mphahlele, Christopher
Okigbo, for instance) shared the same concerns with their artist-colleagues
(Uche Okeke, Demas Nwoko, Bruce Onobrakpeya, Ibrahim El Salahi, among
others) about the implications and impact of political decolonization on the
thematic and stylistic directions of their work. Despite the fact that debates
on these questions were undoubtedly more developed and vociferous in the
field of literature, closer examination of contemporary art criticism, which I
offer in this book, convinces us that conversations of similar motivation and
substance occurred on the subject of art during the same period.
Given the above considerations, it is clear as day that the work of the Art
Society and their colleagues elsewhere on the continent in the independence
decade was decidedly postcolonial, in the sense that they initially imagined
their art as constituting a critical space in which the exhilarating drama of
cultural decolonization was enacted, and subsequently thought of it as a platform for articulating the contradictions of political sovereignty and crises of
postindependence nationalism and subjectivity. These two sequences of the
postcolonial, as I describe them in chapters 5 and 7, respectively, are evident
first in Uche Okekes Oja Series, a suite of drawings inspired by Igbo Uli traditional drawing (and in Achebes Things Fall Apart);25 and second, in Okeke
and Demas Nwokos crisis paintings (as well as in Christopher Okigbos
poems Path of Thunder), from the late 1960s. In conjunction with its postcolonial status, the work of these artists manifests the formal and discursive
sensibilities that have come to define artistic modernisms. First among these
is their belief in the significance of the artists role in fashioning a new art
and culture for the new nation and society, as a harbinger of the new. It is in
this sense that I describe Okeke, Nwoko, and their cohorts as constituting an
avant-garde. Second is their attempt to articulate and reframe their relationship with tradition and the past. Third is their focus on the invention of
formal styles unlike any developed before them. Fourth is the artists turn to
critical analyses and commentary on the postcolonial state as it was eclipsed
by political crises from the late 1960s onward.
Introduction
BEFORE I SUMMARIZE this books chapters, let me explain the logic of its
architecture. From the onset I had to confront the option of compressing the
scope by zooming closely into the independence decade, paying only passing attention to the context of modern art of the previous decades. There is
no doubt some sense in this approach. But the alternative route, taken here,
allows me to examine the longer historical, ideological, and intellectual context of the work that emerged in the late 1950s; otherwise we might miss or
fail to fully appreciate, as has been the case in the literature, the stakes of the
latter. Besides keeping the modern art of the independence decade in dynamic alignment with the preceding six decades of Nigerian art and political
history, the narrative arc of this book frequently swings between sweeping
intellectual and social-historical accounts to meticulous formalist and critical readings of particular artworks and texts. This is my way of insisting on
an approach to writing modern and contemporary African art history that
depends on the scholarly virtues of research-based critical storytelling and
close reading of works of art in order to reveal not just their visual intelligence but also how they relate to the world of the artist and his society.
This study is divided into seven chapters, the first of which sets the colonial context from which the postcolonial modernism of the midcentury
emerged. It argues, following the work of the historian Taiwo Olufemi, that
15
Introduction
16
Introduction
nial education was confronted by growing discontent in the colony about the
reaches of imperial power. I also examine how questions about relevance of
local content in the design of the art schools curriculum provided the critical context for the radical work of the Art Society. It is impossible to overstate the historiographic significance of engaging this history of Zaria, much
of which has been occluded from art historys view of a period that I insist is
most fundamental to our understanding of the stakes of twentieth-century
Nigerian art. The second part of this chapter dwells on the Art Society and the
sources of its ideas, particularly the theory of natural synthesis proposed by
its leader, Uche Okeke, as the organizing principle of the groups future work.
The chapter concludes by resituating the work of the Art Society within the
history of Nigerian art, arguing that it represents an advancement of Onabolus brand of colonial modernism (and a critique of Kenneth Murrays).
This context is important, for it goes against what the scholarship tells us,
which is that Murray, not Onabolu, must be credited with initiating the sets
of ideas championed by the Art Society artists.
The fourth chapter examines the emergence of Nigerian/African modernist and postcolonial art practice and discourse through detailed analysis
of the art criticism, reviews, and portfolios published in Black Orpheus, the
magazine that gave voice to a new generation of Anglophone African and
black diaspora writers and artists in the 1950s and 1960sas well as of the
exhibitions and workshops at the Mbari Artists and Writers Club, Ibadan.
This chapter affords us a view into the process of internationalizing an incipient postcolonial modernism through the work of Ulli Beier and his network
of international writers, critics, and artists. Chapter 4 specifically shows how
the journal, the club, and Beiers work fostered a community of emerging
contemporary artists and writers, now more aware of their collective cultural
and artistic experiences and objectives. It also discusses how this loose network to which the Art Society artists belonged fit into and participated in the
politics of modern Nigerian art and culture around 1960. It is inevitable that
Beier, a controversial, incomparably important art and literary critic and impresario, looms large in this chapter. But the narrative is less about him than
about his participation in the making of an increasingly complex, sophisticated art world that in just a few years saw a new generation of Nigerian artists and writers at its helm.
A key premise of chapter 4 is that the cultural and literary arguments of
negritude and pan-Africanism, disseminated through Beier, Black Orpheus,
and the Mbari Club, became major influences on postcolonial artistic (and
literary) modernism. This is important because it returns us to the claim,
17
Introduction
18
made in chapters 2 and 3, that the work of Art Society artists and many of
their Nigerian and African contemporaries followed the political and cultural ideologies associated with pan-Africanism and negritude rather than
the adaptationist ideas of British indirect rule educational policies.
In chapter 5 I engage in some detail the key individual work of some of the
Art Society members in the years following their graduation from Zaria. In
1962, during his short stay in Lagos and throughout his one-year residency
in Munich, Uche Okeke began a series of experimental drawings inspired
by traditional Igbo Uli art, thus realizing the full formal and conceptual implications of natural synthesis. Similarly, Bruce Onobrakpeya developed a
formal style that depended on the manipulation of designs and motifs of
his native Urhobo arts (Yoruba arts, too) even as he was experimenting with
printmaking techniques following his participation in summer art workshops organized by Beier at the Mbari Clubs in Ibadan and Osogbo. For his
part, Demas Nwoko developed a figural stylemanifest in his wood sculptures and in a suite of paintings on the theme of Adam and Eve while on
a one-year visit to Paris in 1962/63influenced by traditional Igbo figural
sculpture. On the other hand, their Art Society colleague Simon Okeke relied
on techniques and styles borrowed from early modern Western art to create
enigmatic, monochromatic watercolors, while in his canvases Yusuf Grillo
explored postcubist figuration and palette. Finally, Jimo Akolo, who was all
but an official member of the Art Society, continued to experiment with diverse Western modernist painting styles, particularly in the suite of paintings he produced in London in 1963. Chapter 5 reveals the society members
different attitudes toward the theory of natural synthesis and the role of indigenous art forms in their own evolving styles and suggests that the value
of the theory is not so much in its potential to authorize a unified nationalist art as in its enabling an unprecedented, diverse, and ambitious art that
defined the landscape of Nigerias postcolonial modernism.
Chapter 6 shifts the focus from the specificity of the Art Society artists
and their work to the intellectual and cultural firmament and art world of
Lagos, especially after 1963, when that city effectively replaced Ibadan as
the center of postcolonial artistic production and debate. Four important
factors guaranteed Lagoss new significance as the hub of modern art and
culture during this period. First was the radical transformation in 1962 of
Nigeria, a general-interest journal during the colonial period, into a powerful
cultural magazine with ample coverage of contemporary art and literature.
This shift took place under its first Nigerian editor, the novelist and amateur
anthropologist Onuora Nzekwu. Second was the establishment of the Lagos
Introduction
19
Chapter 1
COLONIALISM A ND T HE
EDUCATED A FRICANS
culture and African modernity and between colonial education and the foundation of modern African art. Thus my intention in this opening chapter of
a book on the history of art is not to attempt a comprehensive history of education in colonial Nigeria and Anglophone Africa; rather, I want to sketch
out salient ideas about and episodes in British colonialism, particularly how
the encounter between the ideology and practice of indirect rule, on the one
hand, and African nationalist visions of modernity, on the other, produced
mutually antagonistic models for modern art in Nigeria in the first half of the
twentieth century. This sets the ground for chapter 2, where I examine the
specific theoretical and conceptual processes that catalyzed the emergence
of modern Nigerian art from the ideological conflict between the colonizer
and the colonized, as manifested in the work of Aina Onabolu (18821963)
and Kenneth C. Murray (19031972). But this chapter also does something
else. It sets the ground, sustained throughout the book, for keeping the evo-
Chapter 1
22
23
Chapter 1
24
after the Berlin-Congo Conference of 1884/85) more or less meshed. However, this alliance was often riddled with conflict arising from misaligned
visions, attitudes, and convictions of the apostles of imperialism and Christian missionaries. The colonial governments primary goal, as outlined by
Egerton, was political conquest, euphemistically called pacification, and exploitation of the economic and natural resources of the colonies. The Christian missions, by contrast, convinced of their duty to bring the Gospel and
salvation to pagan peoples, combined evangelization through the church
with Western-style education through mission schools.
By the turn of the twentieth century, with colonialism firmly established,
the stage was set in the colonies for a clash, ultimately for resolution of the
rift, between the gospel and government, between the Bible and the gun. The
trouble, as Martin Kisch, a colonial government official in northern Nigeria
put it, was that mission education turned the African from the admired, lovable native to the despised, disreputable nigger.6 The end of this crisis,
however, raised the stakes of mutual antagonism between the educated elites
from the colonies and the colonial regimea high-intensity drama that, in
turn, laid the grounds for the independence and decolonization movements
of the postWorld War II era.
A century earlier, it was already clear, given the prevalent imperial assumptions in Europe, that the protocolonial administration favored education but only insofar as it was aimed at giving Africans basic technical training. The 1846/47 report of the commission set up by Earl Grey, Secretary for
the Colonies, recommended that colonial education should give the Africans
enough training to liberate themselves from habits of listless contentment
resulting from their inhabiting a bounteous tropical climate.7 It also envisaged that such education should prepare them for serving in the humbler
machinery of local affairs.8 Although the report was specifically in response
to the question of native education in the West Indies, it was also circulated
among governors in the British West African colonies. Little surprise then
that, a few years later, B. C. C. Pine, the acting governor of Sierra Leone, possibly influenced by this report, attacked the mission schools for providing
the natives literary education, given their lack of a culture suitable for intellectual pursuits.9
The Christian missionaries, for their part, saw literary education as a crucial tool of evangelization, for it speeded up the spread of the Gospel and
European cultural enlightenment among the natives. Yet by 1865, at the very
beginning of British imperialism in Africa, missionary education was already
under enormous pressure. Answering questions from the Select Committee
on West Africa, Reverend Elias Shrenk of the Basel Mission argued that the
natives needed to learn Latin and Greek to enable them to read newspapers;
the gift of such education, he suggested, ought to be seen as a reparatory gesture on the part of Britain in atonement of its sordid slavery past. The colonial
government, unconvinced of the merits of Shrenks apologia for missionary
education, set its eyes on a different model of education for colonized Africans. Helped in large measure by the work of American missionaries influenced by the work of the African American educator Booker T. Washington,
West African mission schools increasingly opted for industrial education,
which resulted in the simultaneous retrenchment from literary and humanistic studies and instead supported, willy-nilly, the colonial governments
emphasis on technical and low-grade education in the era of indirect rule.
Indirect rule has a complex history. The best-known and the most influential model of British colonial governance in Africa, it is usually associated
with Lord Frederick Lugardunder whose regime Nigeria was formed in
191410and derived in part from the earlier ideas of the French ethnologist
Gustav dEichthal, who advised the precolonial British Niger Mission against
disrupting the Islamic society of the Fulani Empire in todays northern Nigeria. The mission, he reasoned, would do better to leave the Muslim Africans
to develop in their own way, separate from the Europeans. DEichthals ideas,
well received in Britain, helped the colonial administration formulate the
terms of its later political engagement with Islamic societies in the region.
Apart from dEichthal, other important voices, such as the anthropologist
and self-proclaimed imperialist Mary Kingsley, argued that African colonization must be based on the recognition of the role of African cultural institutions as well as the difference of the African.11 In fact Kingsleys sympathetic
racism, built as it was on her brand of social anthropology, exerted tremendous influence on the development of the theory of indirect rule operationalized in Nigeria by Lord Lugard.12
The problem with indirect rules claim to preserving Islamic/African cultures and political structures lies in the colonialists underestimation of the
impact of their presence as political agents with ultimate coercive and judicial powers in the colonies. Moreover, Lugards rule in northern Nigeria,
legendary for its authoritarian excesses, did not reflect his supposed respect
for Islamic culture. In its editorial in response to a famous 1920 speech
by Lord Montagu, secretary of state for India at the British House of Parliament, in which he condemned the massacre of Indians at Amritsar, the
Lagos Weekly Record drew parallels between official terrorism in India and in
Lugards Nigeria.13 The journal noted that Montagus statement
25
Chapter 1
26
could be made to apply to Nigeria particularly during the terrible administration of Sir Frederick Lugard, to wit: when you pass an order that in
the Northern Provinces all Nigerians must Zaki before any white man,
when you pass an order to say that all Nigerians must compulsorily salute
any officer of His Majesty the King, you are indulging in frightfulness and
there is no adequate word to describe it.14
Evidently, the argument for the preservation of Islamic cultures by indirect rules apologists conveniently justified the systematic alienation of all
but a few northern princes from Western education, thereby limiting the
scale of popular access to political power within the context of the modern
state. From their experience in Lagos and southern Nigeria, the British knew
that uncontrolled Western education for the colonized, especially at the secondary and tertiary level, inexorably led to disenchantment with the colonial status quo and to the struggle for independence.15 Given its success in
stanching direct access to institutions of modernity by northern Nigerians,
indirect rule seemed the most attractive bulwark against the upsurge of anticolonialism, as articulated by the southern educated elite clustered around
Lagos in the interwar period. In the hands of Lugard, this system of government avoided meaningful education of the natives, and his critics in the
Lagos presshis eternal enemiesnever forgave him for that. To his critics, indirect rule colonialism, as Achille Mbembe has persuasively argued,
was not just about control of the bodies of the colonized through spectacular violence; its less obvious yet more pernicious objective was disciplining
the intellect of the colonized.16 If colonialism depended on systematically
stage-managing the colonized peoples access to the liberatory potential of
education, the only effective bulwark against it would be sustained counteroffensive and contestation of the assumptions of colonial education policies.
27
Chapter 1
28
cept the bad news from racial theorists, scientists, and Christian missionaries, believed in cultural relativity and in the possibility of mining the best of
three worlds. While conceding to Europe its ownership of the machinery of
progress, he was equally convinced of his own abilities and indeed his right to
self-determination, which necessarily included the application of the knowledge of Western culture to define the parameters of progress without European direction. Macaulay and other members of the educated elite, regarded
as disgruntled agitators by the colonial governmentA. W. L. Flemming,
a British official in the Gold Coast, once described them as West Africas
curseposed the toughest challenge to indirect rule and British imperialism
and, in fulfillment of the very fears of colonialisms apologists and apostles,
inevitably became the fountainheads of African political nationalism.
The major factor responsible for the making of the radicalized educated
elite as represented by Macaulay was its marginalization and disempowerment by the colonial government at the turn of the century. This retrenchment of Africans from the colonial secular and clerical hierarchy, which had
much to do with British anxieties about securing direct trade access due to
increasing competition from other European colonial powers, led to what
J. B. Webster described as a new regime of white prestige politics.21 Frederick Lugard consolidated this trend by the time he became the governor
general; predictably, he soon became the target of anticolonial attacks in the
print media and through petitions to the Colonial Office and even to Whitehall.22 More than any contemporary colonial officer, Lugard distrusted and
held in contempt the educated Africans, often seen as culturally inauthentic,
denationalized caricatures of the European rather than as serious individuals to be entrusted with official responsibility. Claiming that the members
of the educated elite were estranged from native cultures and, in the case of
the repatriated Africans, were not even part of them, Lugard argued that they
could not be given political power because they did not represent or speak
for the population at large.23 This argument is persuasive, paradoxical, and
downright disingenuous. It is persuasive because working for popular representation in the territories makes sense ideally; it is paradoxical and disingenuous because colonialism is a form of imposed dictatorship. The subject
peoples have no say in the form of government under which they live, nor
can its functionaries claim, by however great a stretch of the imagination,
any popular mandate within the colonies.
There is a second reason for the radicalization of the educated elite. Because Lugard and the administration wanted to preserve indigenous political
systems, it was expedient to support the so-called native authorities where
29
Chapter 1
30
31
Chapter 1
32
history in schools; above all, British history. It would be harmful to teach the
evolution of democracy under Cromwell, as it could induce the boy patriot
to deplore the woes, and discuss the regeneration of his country, instead of
attending to his lesson.33 Revolutionaries, he seemed utterly aware, begin
their work with the mastery of particular histories, and colonial education
ran the risk of razing the structure of empire by the simple gesture of offering history courses to African youths.
Even a most cursory analysis of Lugards education program under indirect rule reveals that his vaunted desire to allow the natives to develop
along their own lines because of the natural difference between them and the
Europeans is a merely rhetorical posturing, totally discordant with the realities of government-sponsored schools. His preference for boarding schools
located far from native towns, for instance, had the objective of sequestering
the students from the harmful influences of their normal environment,
which no doubt included the evils of paganism and all the supposedly untoward primitive lifestyles to which natives were naturally disposed. Second,
the virtues inculcated in the students at school aimed to create new, loyal
subjects released from the stranglehold of their tribal cultures and primed
for the work of the empire. Perhaps only Lugard and other apologists of indirect rule failed to appreciate to the fullest the implication of his educational
program: that it was a machine for creating the very alienated natives that he
detested. For in sequestering the young students in boarding schools where
British masters indoctrinated them on the virtues of the empire and even
cleansed them of lifestyles and moral codes associated with their native cultures, they could not remain a part of the admired majority, content with the
supposedly simple primitive life in the villages. Lugards boarding school was
therefore a laboratory for training a generation of Africans psychologically
engineered to think, act, and reason differently from the unschooled pagans
in their normal environment but also to be different from the badly behaved products of the mission and private schools. Yet Lugard did not seem
to understand why the Lagos press accused him of moral slavery.34 One
thing is certain in all of this: Lugards indirect rule and educational program, rather than allow the natives to develop along their own path as he envisioned or claimed, achieved quite the opposite. For whereas indirect rule
compelled the educated Africans to push against the empire and colonial
system, the schools inevitably helped spread zeal among the youth for an
African modernity premised on the peoples right to political and cultural
self-determination.
33
The role played by ideas, individuals, and institutions from the United States
of America in African colonial education and politics is nothing short of remarkable, given the intensity of national rivalries and conflict of interests
among Western imperial powers. Even before the ascendance of the United
States in world affairs, particularly after the two world wars, and the simultaneous decline of Britains global political and cultural hegemony, Negro
Americans provided crucial models of colonial subjectivity to both the British
colonial administration and African radical nationalists. To the British, the
United States was both a source for useful models in the pursuit of the ideals
of indirect rule and a breeding ground for dangerous political pathogens
capable of compromising the integrity and viability of the colonial system.
The response to the two kinds of black American imports by colonial administrations, Whitehall officials, and the Africans themselves, predictable as it
was, reflected established ideological fault lines transecting colonized Africa.
Moreover, the three most significant Negro advocates of new black subjectivity within the context of racialized sociopolitics of post-Reconstruction
America, the men whose ideas exerted tremendous influence on twentieth-
century African nationalists, were unquestionably Booker T. Washington
(18561915), W. E. B. Du Bois (18681963), and Marcus Garvey (18871940).
In terms of the translation of their work in colonial Africa, it is not out of line
to suggest that, respectively, they represented acceptance of the status quo,
racial equality, and radical black ascendancy. While this might seem rather
reductive, let us note that colonial response to the work of these three men
clearly shows that while Washington became the darling of colonial regimes
in Africa (as he was with whites in the US South), Du Bois was regarded with
deep suspicion, and Garvey was all but considered a bona fide pan-African
terrorist in colonial government quarters. But what were the stakes?
The colonizers distrust of literary education found a powerful ally in
Booker T. Washington, whose industrial/agricultural education program
at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama was based on his staunch belief that
the advancement of black Americans lay in their acquisition of manual or
low-level industrial skills rather than the classical and literary education
offered in standard universities. Seen as less threatening to the racial status
quo, Washingtons program was popular with white southerners and liberal
northerners in the United States, conservative educated Africans, and Negro
American missionaries in Africa committed to gradualist racial self-uplift.
On the other hand, W. E. B. Du Boisone of the forces behind the estab-
Chapter 1
34
Renascent Africa
35
Chapter 1
36
ideas of Du Bois. Azikiwe and others like him embodied the colonizers worst
nightmare. Whereas the colonial administration could arrogantly declare repatriated Africans, seen as outsiders to native cultural experiences, inauthentic representatives of colonized peoples, it was reduced to a stutter when confronted by a generation of educated Nigerians who, to signal their mastery of
the game, claimed leadership of emergent cultural and township unions.42
Thus immunized against the colonizers mantra of the culturally alienated
native and schooled in the discourse of anti-imperialism and modern politics, these new Africans became more powerful adversaries of indirect rule.
Azikiwe first laid down his political ideas in Renascent Africa (1937), a text
that, with youthful zest and flamboyant language, asserted its pan-Africanist
heritage, waged an all-out war against indirect rule colonialism, and declared
the emergence of a new Africa from the debris of the old.43 He tactically
played up tropes of renascence and reawakening already established in the
Gold Coast nationalist J. E. Casely-Hayfords biofictional book Ethiopia Unbound (1911), unquestionably the most influential contemporary literary argument for African nationalism. For Azikiwe (as for Casely-Hayford) Africa
under colonialism was Ethiopia chained, and it was time she broke her fetters, reclaiming her freedom and retaking her rightful place on the world
stage. But for this task she needed the politically conscious educated class,
schooled in modern political discourse and practice, not the old African political cultures and the colonial regime. In shifting attention from the new
Africans relationship to the continents traditional cultures and religions
to the contemporary relevance or otherwise of old and new African political
systems, Azikiwe announced in unmistakable terms the political stakes of
pan-Africanism for modern Africa. Rather than remain obsessed with the
question of the modern Africans cultural authenticity measured against the
extent of his connection to an imaginary root culture, Azikiwe focused on
using the ideological rhetoric of pan-Africanism to attain not just racial accommodation but outright self-rule. It is here that he seems to have drawn
most from the Africa-for-Africans movement exemplified by Garvey.
African mental emancipation, Azikiwe argued, recalling Blyden, depended on the realization of the West African university, but the attainment
of political independence could not succeed without a concerted effort on
the part of the educated elite to unify and crystallize a sense of oneness for
the ultimate destiny of the country.44 His brand of pan-Africanism, as announced in Renascent Africa, must break the shackles of colonialism and restore Africas battered image and lost glories not so much by invoking the
vitality of the continents imagined cultural heritage as by mastering the cul-
ture of modern politics. Here, I am convinced, is the critical point, the conjunction of the anticolonial politics of the turn-of-the-century Lagosian and
West African educated elite, the black emancipation pan-Africanisms of Du
Bois and Garvey, and the continental nationalism of the mid-century West
African political elitea radical fusion that produced a self-defined vision
of African modernity completely at odds with colonialisms own version of
modern Africa. These two clearly defined positions in the colonial chess
game, as I argue in chapter 2, equally played out in the field of colonial-era
art and art education.
37
Chapter 2
INDIRECT R ULE A ND
COLONIAL M ODERNISM
also developed from the work of the pioneer painter Aina Onabolu (1882
1963), who, in an attempt to demonstrate the Africans comparative artistic
ability and in the face of colonialist and racist snobbery, broke with the artistic traditions of his ancestors. In the process, he developed a visual language
that was new, ideologically progressive, and, to use an even more appropriate term, avant-garde. Onabolus career as a painter began around 1900; he
soon built a considerable reputation among the Lagos black (and part of the
white) cultural and political elite. Moreover, he vigorously campaigned, initially without much success, for art teaching in Lagos schools. By 1920, he
had raised enough money to travel to England, where he studied art. Upon
his return in 1922, he continued to press for the inclusion of art in the curricula of Lagos secondary schools. Perhaps in response to his many memoranda on the need for an additional art teacher, the Department of Education
hired the young British artist Kenneth C. Murray (19031972) as an educa-
Chapter 2
40
tion officer with the mandate to teach art in Lagos and southern Nigerian
schools. However, and this is crucial, Murrays ideas about modern art for
colonial Nigeria directly opposed those of Onabolu. If Onabolu saw in art the
vehicle and tool for asserting the Africans modernity and as a means for pictorial performance of his modern subjectivity following similar arguments
made by many among Lagoss black educated elite, Murray saw things differently. Indeed, Murrays vision of African art mirrored the antimodernist ideological basis of Britains colonial policy in Nigeria and other parts of
Africa. Where Onabolu saw his work as a part of the radical work of emergent
anticolonialism, Murray firmly put his teaching and research at the service
of what one might call colonial nativism, convinced as he was, as were many
ideologues of colonialism, of the Africans cultural (if not racial) inferiority
and inability to meaningfully appreciate or master the uniquely sophisticated
European fine art traditions and practices. Thus while Onabolu broke with
the past by adopting new pictorial modes of representing the self as he imagined a future different from that of his ancestors, Murray resolutely resisted
the new because it alienated the old and, more troublingly, had the potential
to level the imaginary boundaries between the irrevocably yet differentially
modernizing Africa and Europe. In other words, Onabolu and Murray, I contend, represented two oppositional visions of modern Nigerian art during
the colonial period. While Onabolu preempted the postcolonial modernism
of the midcentury, Murrays art teaching unsuccessfully worked against the
artistic and ideological tradition laid down by Onabolu.
This argument is significant to the task of this book for two reasons. First,
it serves as a corrective art history, by which I mean a fundamental reinsertion of modern Nigerian art to the site of its ideological origins, a site defined, as I argue in chapter 1, by the struggle between the forces of the colonial status quo on the one hand and the voices of the anticolonialists and
nationalists on the other. Previous analyses of this early period often have not
disentangled or differentiated the work of these two pioneers, and in missing
the crucial fissures and tensions in their visions of the colonial modern, such
analyses fail to properly map the critical contours of early modern Nigerian
art. While there is consensus on the radical nature of Onabolus painting,
given that he set out to disprove colonial and racist assumptions about the
Africans artistic ability, how this constitutes an art-historical problemone
framed by the reimagining of the relationship between the modern artist and
the art of the past but also by the ways in which this problem is either exacerbated or ameliorated by the colonial experience and by the colonial art education developed by Murrayhas not received due attention.
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work for their supposedly radical work.3 It will become obvious in due course
that such arguments misrecognize the discrepant uses of traditional art and
craft by Murray and Nigerian modernists of the independence decade.
This chapter is also important to the claim I make in this book that it is
important to examine the impassioned, often acrimonious debates between
the apologists of empire (including the closeted ones among them) and advocates of cultural and political freedom, even before the birth of the Nigerian
nation in 1914, and to see within this contested terrain the grounds for the
oppositional visions of modern Nigerian art so utterly manifest in the work
of Onabolu and the Art Society on the one hand and that of Murray and colonial art education on the other. This chapters second section shows how
early debates about the character and direction of modern art in Nigeria reflected the fraught relationship of the increasingly dominant, even if unofficial, ideas of Onabolu and the institutionalized naive traditionalism inaugurated by Murray.
The point cannot be emphasized enough that in the colonial art education designed by Murray in the 1920s and 1930s, Nigeria relied on and remarkably affirmed the antimodernist ideology and practice of indirect rule
and, in so doing, nurtured a stylistic trend that, in its unvarnished, crude
nativism, clearly contradicted the aspirations of the cultural nationalists and
later artists who identified with the conceptual and political basis but not the
formal conditions of Onabolus modernism. Colonialism as such naturally
deferred the emergence of an effective and assertive Nigerian artistic modernism until the dawn of political independence when, as will be evident,
pan-African, nationalist, and anticolonial ideologies synchronized with and,
in fact, gave rise to a clearly articulated artistic idea and practice associated
with the Art Society at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology,
Zaria, and their fellow postcolonial modernists in Nigeria and elsewhere on
the continent.
In a 1963 memorandum to the Nigerian Council for Art and Culture on the
teaching of art schools and colleges, Aina Onabolu made a crucial statement
about his relationship with Kenneth Murray. After recalling the series of
interviews he had in April 1926 with the director of education, Mr. Gier, and
his deputy, Mr. Swanston, during which he pleaded for the appointment of
a European art teacher for Lagos schools to complement his own work, he
noted that in the summer of 1927 Murray was hired to teach in southern
Nigeria with good results. Then he added, Though we agreed to disagree
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expression to modern and secular African subjectivity in ways that the art
of his ancestors, profoundly limited in formal and narrative possibilities by
ritual imperatives, could never match. He also provided a detailed history
of English academic painting, no doubt with the intention of establishing a
particular art-historical knowledge not only with which he wished his work
to be associated but also from which modern Nigerian art must calibrate its
own trajectory.
It would be a mistake to miss the point of Onabolus identification with
the realist tradition of Western art and his claim, toward the end of the essay,
that Yoruba traditional masks, sculptures, and drawings were still crude destitute of Art and Science.7 Like his contemporaries in Lagos, he must have
been aware that once the genie of modernity was set free by longue dure historical processes and by the sudden impact of the colonial encounter, artistic
practice based on preserving what to him were irrevocably moribund traditional arts and craftsa refusal to appreciate culture as process rather than
product, as the social-cultural anthropologist Arjun Appadurai has argued
could not be the basis for a modern artistic subjectivity. Onabolu was, in
other words, convinced that ethnicity and the cultural practices and social
systems it circumscribed could not form a viable basis for modern life and
the art associated with it. As such, in anticipation of a future independent
nation, he looked to new ways of seeing and representing the world and the
social selfwhich is precisely what the science of perspective, associated
with Western painting, and even the less artful medium of photography afforded himrather than rely on techniques of representation linked to traditional and ancestral art. Realistic painting and photography could not only
incomparably record the lives of (modern) Africans in ways the stiff religious art of his ancestors could not; they also quite significantly provided
a powerful visual language for articulating the autonomous subjectivity of
Nigerians confronted with the challenge of building a new, modern culture
and nation. This is precisely the point made by A. O. Delo Dosumu in his
preface to Onabolus A Short Discourse on Art:
There is no greater expression of national life and character than Art and
no one but [an] African can fully express her joy and sorrow, her hopes
and aspirations, and her changing moods and passions. In this respect a
great role awaits Mr. Onaboluthe interpretation of Africa to the outside
world.8
Moreover, the leading members of the West African educated elite, many
of whom Onabolu painted, saw his work as part of the larger struggle for
African sovereignty. This much is evident from the many enthusiastic reports about his work, particularly in the radical Lagos Weekly Record but also
from Herbert Macaulays declaration, in response to a 1920 exhibition of
work by students at St. Johns Wood, that Onabolus art was a clear, marvellous vindication of our strugglea manifestation of our much repeated feelings that Africans are capable politically, intellectually and creatively.9 His
portraits of West African nationalists and sympathetic Europeans were thus
seen as a continuation of the struggle against European snobbery.
To be sure, in terms of technical accomplishment and formal ambition,
Onabolus work as a portrait painter is unremarkable, especially given the
particular tradition of Reynoldian Royal Academy painting with which he
identified.10 His portrait of Mrs. Spencer Savage (1906), generally regarded as
his earliest masterpiece, demonstrates middling competence in watercolor,
and his many portrait commissions in the years before and after his training
in London and in Paris (at the Acadmie Julian) proved, in the estimation of
contemporary observers, his mastery of the much coveted realistic figuration. If measured, however, against the traditional realism of Western academic painting, Onabolus sometimes awkward figuration, clearly obvious in
the rendering of the hands of Dr. Sapara (undated), and Adebayo Doherty (reputed to be his last painting), falls short. However, given that his oeuvre was
almost entirely restricted to what must be seen as the painterly equivalent
of studio photography, devoid of pictorial narrative, as his Sisi Nurse (1922)
shows (figure 2.1), and given his insistence even until the early 1960s on academic art training for Nigerian schools, I am compelled to believe that Onabolu never quite saw the task of modern African artists as extending beyond
representation of the modern self, as well as demonstrating to apparently
unrepentant Western critics his technical and intellectual abilities.
Compared to the work of the pioneer modern Indian painter Raja Ravi
Varma (18481906), Onabolus work shows the extent to which the Nigerian artist strayed away from the grand courtliness and pictorial mythologizing of the past associated with the academic tradition. Whereas Varma was
embraced by and thrived in the courts of Baroda, Udaipur, Travancore, and
Mysore and was supported by the British ruling class, the Raj, and the emergent nationalist elite and therefore alternated between portraiture, mythologies, and grand allegorical narratives in the true spirit of Western academic
painting, Onabolu appears quite handicapped, limited in his choice of subjects, and tied, as it were, to portraiture and the rare landscape painting. It
is tempting, then, to think that in his determination to break with the past,
Onabolu saw no pictorial grandeur in Yoruba or Nigerian history or myths
45
Figure 2.1 Aina Onabolu, Sisi Nurse, oil on canvas, 1922. Photo, courtesy of Art House Ltd., Lagos.
Estate of Aina Onabolu.
unlike his former student Akinola Lasekan (19161972), who painted scenes
of Yoruba legends and royal portraits (figure 2.2)and saw in the Lagos,
Ibadan, and Ife royal houses of his day no opportunities for grand courtly art.
We might even further submit that the fact that Onabolu had no firsthand
contact with European academic paintersas did Varma, who learned from
the Dutch painter Theodore Jensen while in the Travancore royal courthis
access to the full range of academic pictorial methods and imaginaries were
limited during his formative years. Apart from helping us understand the
extent of Onabolus academism, these considerations, we have to concede,
trouble the description of Onabolus art as nationalist if, following Benedict
Anderson, we take it that one of nationalisms imperatives is the invention
of (pictorial) myths of a deep national past. Varma certainly did so with what
Geeta Kapur has described as his ambition of devising pan-Indian vision
by subsuming the colonys demographic and cultural diversity in the hegemonic interests of [Indian] national unity11 (figure 2.3). Yet the fact that Onabolu put his portraiture in the service of the assertive sociopolitical ambition
of the Lagos intellectual elite and given the foundational role of this class in
the nationalist struggles of early-twentieth-century Nigeria, his work suggests that colonial-era Nigerian nationalism (shorn of pan-Nigerian national
allegories) did not follow the classic path theorized by Anderson or indexed
by Varmas paintings.
Nevertheless, it bears emphasizing that Onabolus initial attraction to the
Western academic tradition and pictorial realism at the very moment the
European avant-garde waged war against this tradition was the logical direction for a resolutely new, modern, progressive African art. His academicism,
situated as it was within the cultural context of an incipient African modernity, holds the same radical chargein its rejection of traditional artas
the modernism of his European counterparts seized by the fever of inventing
alternative ways of representing/evoking the reality and the world yielded by
industrial modernity. Put simply, he and his European contemporaries were
simultaneously developing new modes of paintingborrowed from or instigated by the cultural and historical otherfrom the ashes of tradition. This
antitraditionalism of the European avant-garde as adopted by Onabolu must
then explain the antagonism toward both by the contemporary European cultural and political establishment and the overseas colonial administration.
This is the root of the pedagogical conflict, as indicated in the 1963 memorandum, between Onabolu and Murray.
Apart from his attraction to the nationalistic rhetoric and practice that
had put the educated elite in the bad books of the colonial regime, Onabolus
promotion of high art valuesthe two quotations by Owen Meredith
47
Figure 2.2 Akinola Lasekan, Ajaka of Owo, watercolor and gouache on paper, 1944. The Newark Museum, Gift of Simon
Ottenberg, tr91.2012.38.8. Estate of Akinola Lasekan.
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so much to help his students find their place within the admirable tradition
of Western art as assist them in acquiring the tools with which to speak a
visual language that evoked the rationalism/realism of industrial modernity,
the mastery of which was fundamental to the politics of the native educated
elite. This is a way to understand, if one resists the temptation to think only
in terms of mimicry and authenticity, why the first act of pioneer modern
painters in the colonial worlds of India, Egypt, Nigeria, and elsewhere was to
master the Western academic and naturalistic painting mode.
Let us step back for a moment but only to reconsider the significance of
Onabolus academicism in terms of both his relationship with history and
the place of his work in the modernism of later generations of Nigerian artists. Reassessments of Onabolus work in recent art-historical scholarship
have revealed a faulty grasp by some observers of the task the artist set for
himself, along with a misunderstanding of what I think are useful ways of
imagining his academicism as radically modernist. Consider, for instance,
the artist, writer, and curator Rasheed Araeens assertion that the realism
of [Onabolus] work is a product of colonialism, not an opposition to it as
some believe.14 Araeen sees as fundamentally flawed the work of what he
calls Africas own historians, who have in different measures looked to Onabolu as the initial point of the continents entry into art history, when in fact
his work amounted to nothing but mimicry under the tutelage of colonial
paternalism. Araeens point, in essence, is that because of European colonialisms far-reaching, transformative effect on the cultures of Africa, it was
impossible for Onabolu (and other African artists) to claim agency or authenticity by speaking in a European visual tongue. Moreover, Onabolus failure to link his academism to the distinctive naturalism of ancient Ife sculpture, which would stand for his own tradition, and the inability of African
art history to argue for that ancestral connection instead of celebrating the
artists mimicry assured Africas marginality in what Araeen calls the mainstream history of modernism. Of Araeens many troubling pronouncements
on Onabolus modernism, the two that parallel more cogently the problem
of this book and this chapter are, first, Araeens erroneous assumption that
African modernism is one uniform, uninflected story of appropriating European artistic forms and concepts; and, second, his claim that Onabolus academism is nothing but mimicry and irresponsible abandonment of his African tradition. Here, Araeens critique, remarkably reactionary for its time,
retraces the criticisms of the educated nationalist elite by apologists of indirect rule.
Whatever part Aina Onabolu supposedly played in instigating the appointment of Kenneth Murray in the summer of 1927 as the first official arts
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manifest in many ways, not the least of which are moments when excursions into the archive confuse rather than clarify our view of the past. Consider, for instance, a page of text in Murrays archive consisting of statements
about taste, child art education, the relationship of fine art and craft, and
the universality of art and its place in the social imaginaryideas excerpted
from the British educator Joseph E. Bartons writing on On Art in Education for Citizenship.18 It has been argued that these notes represent Bartons
articulation of modernisms search for non-materialistic, spiritual values
and thus extrapolates a correlation between this idea of European modernism and Murrays view of African art as a practice animated not only by religion and magic but also by its production of use/value in everyday life.19 A
cursory look at Barton, an ardent defender of Parisian postcubist modernism in postWorld War I Britain, who in his famous six-part lecture series
on the bbc in 1932 pushed for popular acceptance of the formal purism of
functionalist architecture and abstract arta position so radical that Roger
Fry20 had to call for the reclamation of what he called the tremulous vitality
of artistic sensibility from Bartons mechanistic and functionalist aesthetic
suggests that Murray could not have found in Bartons ideas a positive influence. Whereas Barton argued in his book Purpose and Admiration that modernist abstraction was the most current and true manifestation of what he
calls the religion of beauty (by which he means, echoing the more familiar theories of Clive Bell and Roger Fry, art that is not so much concerned
with re-presenting the visual familiars of nature and the social experience
as in evoking pure aesthetic emotion through sheer manipulation of artistic
forms), Murray distrusted modernism for this very reason.21 Given Murrays
disapproval of modernisms nonspiritual basis, its expression of Western
modernitys failures, and its moral decadence, he must have seen Barton as
a key purveyor of the very ideas he hoped the new curriculum for native art
education would prevent from taking root in Africa.
Even the influence of the Austrian art educator Franz Ciek (18651946)
must be put in proper historical perspective to grasp the specific ways it relates to Murrays work. Quite rightly, a pamphlet in Murrays archive, produced by Francesca M. Wilson for the 1921 art exhibition of paintings by
Cieks students in London, irrefutably connects Murrays ideas about art
education with those of the Austrian. However, it is much more likely that
the Birmingham School of Art (at the time the top arts and crafts school
in England), where Murray had trained, had familiarized him with pedagogical methods that were much more fundamental than those of Ciek.
As it happens, Robert Catterson-Smith (18531938), a former principal at
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Birmingham and an important voice in the British arts and crafts movement, had developed and taught a radical method of encouraging the childs
power of artistic expression through memory drawing. This entailed requiring students to draw, from memory, images of objects shown to them for a
brief period of time rather than draw images by directly observing the objects. One of Catterson-Smiths best-known students at Birmingham, Marion
Richardson, adopted and refined his method and, with the help of Margery
Fry and her brother, the art critic Roger Fry, became an influential advocate
of memory drawing; it became a core part of Kenneth Murrays art teaching
in Nigeria. Birmingham also provided the context for Murrays encounter
with Cieks ideas, because Francesca Wilson, author of the Ciek pamphlet
in Murrays archive, was a history teacher at the Edgbaston Church of Eng
land College for Girls in Birmingham, as well as a friend of the Frys. This is
important, if only because it indicates that although the exhibition of work
by Cieks students, organized by Wilson, traveled for several years (along
with Wilsons text), Murray might in fact have come across both when he was
still a student at Birmingham. In any case, Catterson-Smiths and Richardsons idea of memory drawing, together with Cieks belief that the work
of education, which naturally destroyed creative originality, ought to be the
protection of children from outside influence so as to allow them grow from
their own roots, needed one more element to coalesce into Murrays pedagogy and his vision of African art: the element of the mystical and the religious, which came readily from the Sri Lankan philosopher Ananda Coomaraswamy (18771947).
A passage from Coomaraswamys 1918 book Dance of the iva, which was
included in a typescript of quotes in Murrays archive, describes how yoga
could, through invocation of various Buddhas and bodhisattvas and by ritual
purification and meditation, result in the emptying of the ego consciousness and the production of sacred images willed by the divinities with whom
the artist at that moment is in perfect communion. Elsewhere in Dance of
the iva, Coomaraswamy cites Sukracharyas injunction, which no doubt affirms the connection between art and spirituality, while making the case for
the primacy of the internally generated image, emanating as it were from
the true, mystically inspired self, over the images that remain merely in the
optical realm:
Let the imager establish images in temples by meditation on the deities
who are the objects of his devotion . . . in no other way, not even by direct
or immediate vision of an actual object, is it possible to be so absorbed in
contemplation, as thus in the making of images.22
What emerges from this tracking of Murrays development as an educator is a picture of Murray that is far more complex than previously imagined. For while there is no doubt that he was attracted to progressive models
of art teaching and child education in Europe, we witness the co-optation
and transmogrification of these ideas about nurturing artistic originality
and authenticity into arguments about African cultural exceptionalism, the
Europeans mandate to determine the conditions of Africas access to modernity, and indeed the unsettled question of European modernism itself. Art
schools for Africans, as imagined by Murray, were nothing short of what
Jacqueline Delange and Philip Fry have called protective centres for native
talent.23 The now legendary 1937 exhibition of paintings and sculptures organized by Murray for his students at the Zwemmer Gallery, London, clearly
illustrates this point (figures 2.6 and 2.7)
The Zwemmer show was a triumph for Murray. For years, he had sought
approval from the colonial administration to exhibit the work of his students
in London, ostensibly to convince both Whitehall and his critics in Nigeria of
the relevance of native art education. But the exhibition was also an emphatic
statement about the viability of his pedagogical method and his ideas about
African art.24 In every sense the exhibition proved to be immensely popular,
so much so that it remained open past its originally scheduled close. Art historians naturally point to the positive reviews it garnered, especially in the
conservative English press, as evidence of Murrays successful insertion of
modern African art into European cultural consciousness, as well as clear
proof of his foundational role in the making of modern Nigerian art. But
what does the Zwemmer show reveal about the use of products of empire in
the internal battle for Britains cultural modernity? How do the exhibition reviews confirm my reading of Murrays teaching as a process of creating African art that was anything but modern and progressive for its time?
Murrays alliance with Sir William Rothenstein, the principal of the
Royal College of Art who opened the exhibition, is revelatory and significant. Rothenstein, a vocal critic of abstraction and Parisian modernism, had
argued in 1931 that narrative realism, to him Englands national style, was
a viable bulwark against the senseless abstraction of the Continental modernists.25 The Zwemmer exhibition, which showed Africans doing real African art, rather than Europeans doing pseudo-African art, provided him the
opportunity to simultaneously argue for the retention and expression of national essences through art and to criticize English/European artists whose
modernism was linked to cubist formalist experimentation with African
(and Oceanic) sculpture. In other wordsthis applies to the shows enthu-
57
Figure 2.7 C. C. (Christopher Chukwunenye) Ibeto, Ibo Dancers at Awka, watercolor, 1937. Reproduced from Nigeria 14
(1938), courtesy National Council for Arts and Culture, Abuja. Estate of C. C. Ibeto.
siastic reception by the conservative pressthe exhibition proved that Africans had their own type of art, one quite different from either the sophisticated, narrative modernism preferred by Rothenstein and the academicians
or the despicably powerful abstractions of the formal modernists defended
by the likes of Fry, Barton, and Paul Nash. The exhibition, moreover, showed
the British art world the great lie of abstract modernism: the real African art
it claimed as one of its foundational resources was, after all, an illustrative,
narrative art. Furthermore, it is not insignificant that the Zwemmer show appeared in London just one month after a major survey of contemporary art
from Englands dominions (Canada, Australia, South Africa, India, New Zealand). While the latter show revealed the dominion artists familiarity with
nineteenth- and twentieth-century European styles, the pictorial naivety of
the Nigerian works readily confirmed the popular perception of the colonies,
unlike the dominions, as still in dire need of British imperial tutelage. This
I believe is the ideological lesson of the Zwemmer exhibition, the reason it
attracted such attention in the British press.
Murrays teaching and ideas about African art in the era of colonization
must be seen as indicative of his unwillingness to appreciate the ineluctable
fact that even in the so-called primitive non-Western society, artistic development could reflect the transformations in the sociopolitical space inaugurated by the colonial encounter and internal forces of change. But whatever
trouble we might have appreciating the grounds for his strong convictions
about the direction of art in colonial Nigeria disappears once we accept that
he was (perhaps unwillingly or unconsciously) in many ways a mainstream
colonial pedagogue profoundly sympathetic to the ideology of indirect rule.
Far from critical of colonial ideology, Murrays work was a part of the mainstream British-African colonial practice and discourse.26
Let me then press further the intellectual and political debts Murray owes
to the ideology of indirect rule by suggesting that if he had any clear agenda
as a teacher, it must have been to restore the original vision of Frederick
Lugard for native schools. In 1943, citing a passage from Lugards Memoranda
on Education (1919), Murray wrote: The primary object of the schools was
the preservation of indigenous arts unspoiled by foreign designs, and the
improvement of Native methods.27 Murray lamented this unrealized mandate, blaming the Native Administration Works Department, which tended
to focus on technical instruction at the expense of art. He noted the adverse
impact of such instructional procedures and the disillusionment of students,
most of them from noncraftsmen families, trained in the traditional arts but
unable to secure government jobs that usually went to those trained in Euro-
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ing of men like Eckart von Sydow. This is necessary for it helps us understand his work as a product of a discourse that was coincident with global
colonial encounters. To be sure, I use primitivism here in just two of its
proliferating senses: first, as a tactic used by European artists/intellectuals
to critique and disidentify with the rationalist, white, patriarchal basis of
modern Europes bourgeois society, which is how we often think of the artistic avant-garde; and second, as the outcome of European response to and
participation in the invention and discourse of (but also fear and fantasies
about) its racial-cultural other. Despite the temptation to see the first kind of
primitivism as progressive on account of its apparently rejectionist or critical stance against the sociopolitical status quo, I am convincedfollowing
Chinua Achebes critique of Conrads Heart of Darkness and the arguments
of Edward Said about European intellectuals participation in the production of orientalismthat the two kinds of primitivism are ineluctably conjoined in the production of the trope of the primitive, in spite of what might
be their dissimilar motivating politics. I thus argue that though Murrays
writings and lifestyle suggest that he might have been genuinely convinced
about the need to maintain the uniqueness of African indigenous cultures
and to protect them from Western civilizations aggressive inhumanity and
decadent materialism, his insistence on natural rural scenes as the genuine face of colonial Africa comes close to the second type of primitivism. In
other words, despite his criticism of the colonial regimearguably driven
by his realization that the governments policies were moving away from
the Lugardian adaptationist modelhis ideas about contemporary African
cultures and art were remarkably similar to von Sydows. In a way, Murray,
like European avant-garde artists of his day, inherited, as Susan Hiller has
argued, an unconscious and ambivalent involvement with the colonial transaction of defining Europes others as primitives, which, reciprocally, maintains an equally mythical western ethnic identity.33 Still, there is a crucial
difference between the work of Murray, whose primitivist imagination was,
from every indication, born of a compelling empathy and yearning for an immersive experience of African cultures and lifeways, and that of such artists
as Picasso and the Parisian avant-garde, for whom African and Oceanic arts
were just alien resources for reimagining their own ideas and experiences of
Europe and the West. Similarly, despite his intellectual debts to Lugard, it is
hard to imagine Murray in the same frame in which we find such an ideological primitivist as Lugard or even Mary Kingsley. The conclusion we can
draw from these fast and loose intellectual connections between Murray,
von Sydow, Kingsley, and Lugard is that insofar as their work produced or ex-
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tended the reaches of the adaptationist model of colonial practice, they were
engaged in what I would like to call imperial primitivism.
I must emphasize that Kenneth Murrays work as an art teacher was important but not for the reasons we find in the existing scholarship.34 If we extricate his work from contemporary intellectual debates or resist reading it
against the prevailing discourse of indirect rule colonialism, his art teaching
could certainly be and has routinely been misconstrued as radical, therefore even anticolonial and progressive. Isolated from interwar ideas about
native education and policies, his pedagogy appears groundbreaking, more
so if it is compared to its other local, historically, and geographically proximate antithesis: the supposedly atavistic academism of Onabolu. However,
only when we reevaluate or reinsert Murrays work into its intellectual and
political milieu are we able to appreciate it not as a precursor of the radical
work that emerged in Nigeria by the mid-twentieth century but as an index
of British colonial educational policies in Africa.
Clearly, both Murray and Onabolu played critical roles in the development
of modern art in Nigeria. The pertinent question is, what kind of modern
art did their work anticipate? For Onabolu, as we have seen, the task of the
modern Nigerian artist was first to dispel any racist assumption of the Africans intellectual inferiority; how better to show this than through mastery,
what Olu Oguibe aptly calls reverse appropriation, of the creative sophistication that post-Renaissance European art had claimed as its sole property.
It was important for Onabolu that the modern artist be subjected to rigorous
training in the principles of form, design, and image-making techniques. It
is unprofitable now to speculate the fate of Nigerian art had Murrays program not displaced that of Onabolu as the official curriculum for art teaching
in Nigerian schools. What is certain is that despite Onabolus marginalization in official art education, his art classes in private schools and in his own
studio created the rudiments of an emergent art world, a thriving platform
for articulating a modern artistic practice energized by his former students,
many of whom organized themselves into art clubs in Lagos.
One such club was the Aghama Youth Club of Fine Arts, founded in the
1940s by Onabolus former student A. O. Osula. As Donald MacRow suggested in 1954, the Aghama club provided an alternative avenue for free
expression among youth who, in fast changing Nigeria, had increasingly
fewer opportunities to partake in native arts, customs and festivals.35 The
clubs members (who in 1957 included Uche Okeke, just before he enrolled
in Zaria) engaged in life drawing, landscape painting, and other exercises.
They emphasized technical mastery and professionalization and, contrary
to Murrays pedagogy, had no interest in the supposedly vital native arts
and crafts. Moreover, in carrying forward Onabolus vision of the modern
through his youth club, Osula also pointed to the next logical phase of modern Nigerian art by suggesting the task facing artists after the question of
native artistic competence had been laid to rest.
In an important, though largely forgotten 1952 essay, Osula acknowledged
the significance of what he called Nigerias art of the past even as he affirmed his concern for the future of contemporary art.36 Faced with the two
distinct categories of artists he identified in colonial Nigeriatraditional
craftsmen and the artists who based their styles and techniques on European
exampleshe clearly identified with the latter, the modern artists, to whom
the future belonged. His vision of the modern, however, specifically called
for modern artists to reengage with traditional art, for which many self-
styled modern artists felt nothing but irritation, so as to mine the formal,
conceptual, and cultural reservoir of both new/foreign and old/native art:
Those who follow European ways and are influenced by Western techniquethey have to rely more on their own powers of invention and
imagination to create a new style which will incorporate something of
our past with that which is new and strange coming from abroad. They
have as much to learn from the traditionalists of the Nigerian interior as
from the artists of Europe. This synthesis, desirable though it may be, has
not yet been attained.37
His conclusion, at once emphatic and prophetic, explicitly noted the
futurity of the modernism he imagined in 1952:
Little by little the difficulties will be overcome and young Nigerian artists,
assimilating new techniques and media from Europe[,] will learn how to
ally these with the best of our own Traditional Art, creating a synthesis of
the old and the new, which will be the true Art of the present. Those who
are working towards this end may be unknown to all but a few to-day, but,
when they succeed, their worth must surely be recognised by all.38
Osulas ideas, broadly, are not without precedent. Two years before,
John A. Danford, a British artist and the regional director of the British
Council, published a watershed essay on Nigerian art.39 Unimpressed by the
myth of a pure African art, he contended that the so-called traditional art
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of Africa had always absorbed foreign influences that, in turn, reshaped local
traditions. As such, he argued, those who regret the introduction of new
ideas and methods from Europe in the field of artpresumably people like
Kenneth Murrayclearly misunderstood the nature of traditional art and
the possibilities of contemporary art. He then proposed a gradual blending
of the African and European Schools, the artist taking the best both have to
offer and building out of it a new School of Nigerian art.40
It is quite possible that Osula borrowed his ideas of blending the African
and European Schools from Danford. Yet more than anyone before him,
Osula understood and articulated the problem of the modern Nigerian artist in the colonial period: how to negotiate on his own terms the formal and
conceptual possibilities offered by traditional African and Western art. The
limited intellectual resources available to his contemporaries and, one might
add, the burden of colonial projection of African self-insufficiency seemed
to have compelled Osulas candid assessment; but he was also quite possibly
convinced that the fast-paced movement, from the beginning of that decade,
toward political independence meant that the enabling critical conditions
for the inevitable resolution of the problem of contemporary artistic subjectivity was imminent. Even so, neither he nor Danford suggested the specific
nature of this blending or synthesis or what aesthetic or conceptual program
they expected to spring from their prognostications. Chapter 3 takes up this
matter of synthesis as part of its concern with the discursive genealogies
of the theoretical framework proposed by the Art Society for its particular
brand of postcolonial modernism.
Notwithstanding the interventions and parallel modernist aspirations
of the young Lagos artistsmany of whom were taking correspondence
art courses offered by Onabolu and his former student Akinola Lasekan
(19161972), who himself took correspondence courses at the Hammersmith School of Art, London (figure 2.8)Murrays influence continued
to hold sway, entrenched as much by art teaching in government schools
as through national competitions and exhibitions organized by the British
Council and the National Festival of the Arts. The first of the British Council
shows, the Nigerian Art Exhibition of 1948 curated by Danford, was perhaps
the most important, not least because it was the first comprehensive survey
of modern Nigerian art. Not since Murrays exhibition of his students work
at the Zwemmer Gallery in London a decade earlier had an art exhibition attempted to set the ground for a discourse of modern Nigerian art. It included
works by Murrays former students, artists influenced by his teaching, as
well as Onabolus former students.
Chapter 2
68
range the most delicate brush strokes into a sensitive pattern could reasonably apply to many, if not all, historical and recent pictorial traditions. Moreover, to mention a glaring problem with his analysis, he does not explain how
this Nigerian style differs from what he calls the highly developed painting
of Persia or India, both of which, like modern European art, are much more
concerned with pictorial pattern and decoration than illusionistic depth. Apparently aware of the precariousness of his critical enterprise and the basis
of his primary assumption, he later wondered if it was not presumptuous to
derive a Nigerian style from the work of students in a single little-known secondary school. Yet by emphasizing the ethnic diversity of the students, which
invariably meant that they constituted a valid sample of Nigerian artists, the
Nigerianness of the style he had formulatednever mind that it was based on
the work of teenagersseemed to him all too evident. Concluding, he asked
how this new Nigerian style could be sustained and developed and, as if to
encourage recognition of his support for the Murrayindirect rule approach
to colonial modern art, he rephrased the now familiar Lugardian dictum: the
thing for the art teacher to do is to discourage plagiarism of European styles
based on the tradition of depth and atmosphere.42
process inevitable and contingentor to put it more starkly, Onabolus proposal, coming a year after the memorandum, may not have actually played
a determining role in the official decision to create the position eventually
occupied by Murray. Third, Onabolu, like Edward Blyden and other members of Lagoss educated elite before him, must have felt his own fair share
of the official antagonism directed toward educated nativesthis was the
subtext of his 1920 treatisebut may have decided that the radical potential
of formal education was the requisite bulwark against the mainstream colonialists objurgation of native artistic ambitions and agency. Thus, he may
have been undeterred by the possibility that whoever joined him in teaching
art might introduce artistic ideas incompatible with his.
I like to think that Onabolu had to have been very much aware of what
Olufemi Taiwo aptly describes as subjectivitys quirks, which dictate that a
teacher cannot control what a student does with her tuition or how she decides to exert her agency.43 He might, in fact, have been certain that, even
with the possibility that the Education Department would support a tribal
model of art and African subjectivity, the introduction of Western-style realism could still underwrite a viable modernist sensibility. He must have believed, in fact, that once the administration accepted any kind of formal art
teaching in the schools, it would unwittingly and inevitably release the genie
of native artistic agency. These speculations about Onabolus intention are
not far-fetched, for as will be seen, it is from Onabolus model of the speaking, self-aware colonial subject convinced of his connection to world historical culturesnot just to that of his real or imagined ancestors, as indirect
rule colonialism arrogantly arguedthat postcolonial modernism unfolded
in Zaria, Ibadan, and Lagos during the independence decade.
69
Chapter 3
THE ACADEMY A ND T HE
AVANT- G ARDE
THIS CHAPTER FOCUSES ON the history of the Nigerian College of Arts, Sci-
ence and Technology (ncast) in Zaria, the first degree-awarding art institution in Nigeria. In 1958 a group of ambitious ncast students founded the
Art Society, which became the inaugural act of mainstreaming modernist
art during the 1960s. The process of transforming the ncast art program
from a training ground for secondary-school art teachers and casual artists
into a school for professional artists, together with the tensions between
the college and its national publics, reveals how competing demands on the
institution dramatized the struggle between the colonial office and Nigerias
educated elite over the control and direction of modern art and its role in the
making of modern postcolonial culture. This history reveals quite importantly how questions within the British faculty and between the school and
its critics about the relevance of local content in the design of the art curriculum provided fertile ground for the radical work of the Art Society group
in and after Zaria. By engaging the new cultural history of Zaria, this chap-
Chapter 3
72
ter reconstructs a past that, until now, has seemed very distant due to lack
of access to relevant archival records of the period. My task in this chapter,
therefore, is to provide an intellectual history of the ncast art department;
to contextualize the motivating ideas of the Art Society; and in examining
their artwork, to offer a more compelling account of what really happened
at Zaria and what that has to do with the modernist movement in Nigeria in
the decade of independence.
The ncast Fine Arts program began on a very modest scale in the 1953/54
academic year at the Ibadan branch of the college, with two teachers, Mr. Roy
Barker and his wife, Mrs. V. M. Barker. As a subdepartment of education, the
art program had eight foundation students enrolled in either the three-year
course Art for Teachers or the three-year Commercial Art course. In its early
years the program offered classes in weaving, pattern and design, imaginative composition, perspective drawing, anatomical studies, mural decoration, still life, figure drawing, wood carving, and modeling. However, the
art program struggled mightily to assert its legitimacy as a relevant part of
Nigerias emergent academic community. But if the public was dubious of
the programs place within the academic institution and beyond, it must have
been in part because in its first years, the Art Sectionas it was originally
calleddid not have a streamlined academic requirement for student admission, thus creating the impression that unlike the other programs in the
college, art studies were laissez-faire and demanded from its practitioners
less intellectual investment. The programs administrators, conscious of its
critical public, devised ways of promoting the art program and its students
and graduates, mostly through art exhibitions outside the college and by way
of radio broadcasts. One such public relations event was the first gallery exhibition of students work, organized in April 1955 at the Exhibition Centre
in Marina, Lagos.
Quite likely an uninspiring show, the official opening of The Nigerian College of Technology Art Exhibition attracted important personalities, including
the flamboyant federal minister of Natural Resources and Social Services,
Adegoke Adelabu; the acting chief federal advisor on education, A. Hunt-
Cooke; and the assistant principal of ncast, Ibadan branch, K. O. Williams.
This high-caliber guest list left no one in doubt about the stakes of the show.
The eight exhibiting students, described in the catalog as the first students
to undertake a full-time training in Art in the Nigerian education scheme,1
included four sophomores in the Art for Teachers course and four freshmen
from the Commercial Art course.
In his opening address, the assistant principal stressed the exhibitions
importance as a public relations event designed to introduce the college and
its art program to a skeptical public. Emphasizing the future potential of the
program and its graduates, however, he noted that the College was proud
of the exhibition, not so much [because] of the work done, as the work it is
going to do, of which this was the first-fruits.2 Despite this tacit acknowledgment of the mediocrity of the exhibited work, the principal reminded his
audience of the students artistic potential, invariably seeking a deferment
of possible criticism of a program undergoing a series of structural and curricular transformations.
By September 1955 not only had the art program expanded into a full
Department of Art, with more faculty and students; it also relocated from
Ibadan to Zaria, with sixteen students enrolled that year for the four-year
course leading to a diploma in fine art. This course comprised two years
study in anatomy, perspective, objective study, outdoor study, design subjects, life drawing, pictorial composition, modeling, pottery or fabric printing, general knowledge, and English. At the end of the second year, the students sat for the Intermediate Certificate in Arts and Crafts, followed by two
years of specialization in painting, sculpture, or commercial design. Upon
successful completion of the diploma course, a further year of study in the
Department of Education was available for those graduates who intended to
teach.
The transformation from an art-education institution (the model of art
pedagogy established by Kenneth Murray a few decades earlier; see ch. 2) to
an academy for professional artists and designers became complete in 1957,
when the program phased out the three-year Teachers Certificate course.
This shift is crucial, for it signaled an important makeover of colonial art
education, one emphasizing the training of teachers rather than professional
artists. To press this concept further, it meant the final realization of Onabolus (no doubt inflexible) vision of a Nigerian art academy; but whereas
Zarias orientation did not align with the strictly British Reynoldian Royal
Academy model, it did serve as an advanced program for many students
already introduced to rigorous art-making procedures, either in the studios
of Aina Onabolu or Akinola Lasekan or in the art clubs (figures 3.1 and 3.2).
What is clear, though, is that the cool reception of ncast by a critical public
put considerable pressure on a school in search of relevance in Nigeria and
recognition in Britain. This recurring institutional anxiety, itself indexical of
73
the pervasive angst between the colonizer and the colonized in the last days
of empire, played out in an intradepartmental squabble among the British
faculty members on how best to raise the programs profile. For instance,
Donald Brooke, a lecturer in sculpture and an acquaintance of the famous
English sculptor Henry Moore, believed that bringing high-profile artists
like Moore to the school might be helpful, while Roy Barker, as departmental chair, was more concerned about seeking affiliation with a British art
school. Thus, the first formal attempt at affiliating the Art Department with
the Slade School of Fine Art, University College London, in the 1957/58 session led to Slade Professor A. H. Gerrards appointment as Zarias external
examiner, although negotiations between the two schools were ultimately
inconclusive.3
The failure to secure London affiliation was not Zarias only problem. A
devastating challenge came in the form of withering criticism of the art program broadcast on national radio by Nigerias most famous artist, Ben Enwonwu (19171994), sometime in the spring term of 1958.4 Although a transcript of the broadcast does not seem to have survived, Enwonwu must have
criticized the overwhelmingly European faculty and the art schools curricular focus, which by then had only one Nigerian artist, Clara Ugbodaga, on
the teaching staff. At the First International Congress of Black Writers and
Artists at the Sorbonne (Paris, 1956), in a contemporary reformulation of
the age-old charge levied against the colonial regime by the Lagos intellectual elite at the turn of the century, Enwonwu criticized the marginalization
of qualified Nigerian artists in the colonial dispensation. The political problem faced by African artists, he argued, was manifest in the total control of
art programs, like the Nigerian Festival of Arts, by Europeans who insisted
on fallacious standardization.5 He may have returned to these questions in
his radio address with particular focus on the Zaria program.
The ncast reaction to Enwonwus broadcast was firm. In a letter reminiscent of the trademark indisposition of colonial administrators to criticism by native intellectual elite, the college registrar, W. A. Husband, requested that the federal government take official disciplinary action against
the artist.6 The governments lack of interest in sanctioning Enwonwu for the
offensive broadcast, however, and the quick resolution of the confrontation
seems to have been founded on anxieties about popular nationalist backlash
against the colonial regime.7 Described by the magazine West Africa a few
years earlier as one of the worlds most unusual civil servants,8 Enwonwu
was officially the Federal Art Supervisor in the Information Office. Without a
specific task attached to his portfolio, his national visibility and his flamboy-
75
Chapter 3
76
ant and prideful personality often collided with the strictures of colonial civil
service. In any case, Zarias hyperbolic response to the Enwonwu broadcast
reminds us of pervasive and elevated anxieties in the administration about
public perception of the college and its art program.
Within weeks of the Enwonwu episode, the art department sponsored a
lecture, also broadcast on national radio, defending the program and its relationship with its Nigerian environment. Written and most likely presented
by the art department chair, Roy Barker, in a conversational style reminiscent of the popular bbc talk series of the period, the broadcast helped the
program in its struggle for national relevance. While no direct mention of
Enwonwu is made in the lecture, there is no doubt that it was a response to
him, using the same public medium through which he had unleashed his
critical onslaught. The Barker broadcast, moreover, was meant to confront
the challenge of establishing an art history of Nigeria in the light of new discoveries and old materials associated with the countrys diverse ancient cultures. It was also designed to address the corollary problem of calibrating
the art schools relationship, in terms of its curricular offerings, with these
same traditions, which had assumed increasing significance in the Nigerian
national imaginaries. Barkers position, however, was quite clear. Despite
the acknowledged richness of Ife, Benin, and Esie sculptural traditions, he
argued that the days of the traditional wood carver had been eclipsed by the
contemporary in-between stage; that is to say, a transitional social milieu
demanding a different kind of artist, one who now stands free, sometimes
uncomfortably free, in a bewildering, rapidly changing country.9 The new
artist, Barker argued, must confront ideas foreign to the constricted field of
practice within which his ancestors in [the] seldom-changing community
worked:
We may look back nostalgically to the glories of the past. We may decry
this new Art. But let us understand that the change has come about.
There are new things to say. There are new ways of saying them. Let us
not be afraid of accepting ideas and techniques and above all do not let us,
at this stage of our development, insist on a National Art or even on an
African Art. Who shall say what these abstractions are? Can the European
define African art? It is better to accept the new ideas from outside. To
fight them is blind follyto spite ourselves and deliberately to limit our
future growth. Our National Characteristics and our African Art will not
appear by forcerather will false characteristics appear. Characteristics
which have become the Europeans accepted ideas of them.
It may be argued that an acceptance of the foreign methods will re-
77
Chapter 3
78
istic (to the extent it participates in national identity discourse). Despite the
tendency in Western modernist art history and theory to dissociate modernism from nationalism and to suggest their mutual antagonism, modernism
in decolonizing societies often engaged productively with the discourse of
the national.11 The problem with Barkers argument was therefore the failure
to come to terms with the idea that, in the process of developing a complex,
diverse, and sophisticated contemporary art in Nigeria, the study of Nigerian
and African art and cultural history can go hand in hand with the acquisition
of foreign methods.
Although African art and Western art history, as such, were not taught as
regular courses in Zaria during the ncast years, some of the teachers gave
occasional lectures or seminars in world art. For instance, Diana Madgett,
a British artist who came to Zaria in 1957 after teaching at the University of
Hong Kong for five years, gave lectures on Japanese and modern European
artists. As Barkers radio program reveals, Zaria was particularly burdened
with the question of calibrating its curriculum to justify its location within
a specific national context. The inclusion of local content in the Zaria curriculum, however, began in 1958 with the arrival of Barkers successors, the
British painter Patrick George (b. 1923) and the Canadian sculptor Paul de
Monchaux (b. 1934), newly graduated from the Slade (figure 3.3).
In March 1959, de Monchaux, and two other teachers, G. E. Todd and
Diana Madgett, along with two students, Uche Okeke and M. A. Ajayi, went
on a ten-day study tour of southern Nigeria. The excursion covered different aspects of Nigerian cultural and artistic heritage, including the ethnographic museums recently established by Kenneth Murray at Ife, Benin, and
Lagos. The group also visited important sites and monuments, such as the
iron-studded monolith Opa Oranyan, said to have been installed in the ancient city of Ife during the reign of the first Yoruba king; the famous Tsoede
bronzes, named after the founder of the Nupe Kingdom, at Tada (figure 3.4);
the soapstone sculptures at Esie first documented by the German ethnologist
Leo Frobenius in 1911; the old centers of glass-bead manufacture in Bida; and
indigo-dyed cloth at Abeokuta. They also visited the palaces at Esie, Benin
City, Akure, Ikere, and Owo to view their royal collections. Their itinerary
included visits to major modern public art commissions, such as John Danfords bronze statue Emotan (1954) at Obas Market in Benin City (figure 3.5);
Enwonwus wood sculpture ensemble Risen Christ (1953/54) at the Anglican
Chapel, University College, Ibadan, and his bronze statue of Queen Elizabeth II in Lagos, commissioned by the Foreign Office in 1957; as well as
several sculptural projects in Lagos by Enwonwus great rival, Felix Idubor
Figure 3.3 Group photograph showing Paul de Monchaux (center) and art students of the Nigerian
College of Arts, Science and Technology (ncast), ca. 1960. Simon Okeke is seated left of de
Monchaux. Photo, courtesy of Paul de Monchaux.
(19281991). Along the way, the group engaged in discussions on contemporary Nigerian literature, particularly the works of Cyprian Ekwensi, Chinua
Achebe, and Amos Tutuola, quite likely prompted by Okeke, who was already
collecting Igbo oral literatures. In addition to being a fledgling poet, he believed that contemporary art and literature faced similar challenges in decolonizing Nigeria. A month later, Patrick George and another teacher, G. E.
Todd, took textile students to Zaria city to study local dyeing techniques,
while another team of newly hired art teachers embarked on a similar trip
in December 1959.
The effect of these study tours on the departments course offerings was
immediate. Building on discussions with Okeke during their trip on the impact of Western and indigenous art on contemporary Nigerian art and on
the prospects of professional art practice in Nigeria, de Monchaux gave lectures and seminars on African art, the art of Benin, and Yoruba sculpture between May and June, relying on his own photographs and trip notes but also
Figure 3.5
John Danford with
plaster figure of
Emotan, in his
Chelsea studio,
London, 1953. The
statue, later cast in
bronze, was installed
at the Obas Market,
Benin City, in 1954.
Keystone Pictures
USA / zumapress
.com.
Chapter 3
82
on the writings of Ulli Beier and Leon Underwood. Clara Ugbodaga invited
Enwonwu to give a lecture on contemporary Nigerian art, and T. A. Fasuyi,
a former student, came to speak on traditional Nigerian art. These lectures
demonstrated the art departments newfound commitment to expanding
and nationalizing its curricular offerings.12
The other problem faced by the ncast Art Department had to do with the
status of its certification. With the departure of Patrick George in the summer of 1959, Clifford Frith (b. 1924), a painter and former teacher at Camberwell School of Art and Goldsmiths College, became the chair. Soon after, he
resuscitated the stalled affiliation process, predictably with Goldsmiths.13 In
late December 1959, Patrick Millard, the respected British landscape painter
recently appointed principal of Goldsmiths, visited Zaria. Although Goldsmiths declined a formal affiliation with ncast, the mere fact that it moderated Zarias examinations brought the recognition by the Federal Ministry
of Education in Nigeria of the ncast diploma as conferring graduate status,
a dramatic shift from the years of subgraduate categorization of the schools
certificate by the government.
Frith further built on Patrick Georges effort to introduce some African
art in the Zaria art curriculum, as he believed that the students ought to be
exposed to both European art and their own cultural heritages. To this end,
he installed artifacts on loan from the Jos Museum in vitrines along the corridors and invited occasional lecturers in African art. Yet despite these curricular changes in the art department and the improved status of its diploma,
doubts grew about the programs viability and its relevance within and outside the college. Compounding the situation was the fact that ncasts art
graduatesits ambassadorslooked to secure careers in secondary education, teacher-training colleges, or the civil service, because independent
studio practice was widely considered precarious and undignifieda mere
hobby for the gainfully employed or the preoccupation of those unable to
secure decent jobs elsewhere. The Carr-Saunders Commission, appointed
in 1962 by the northern regional government to supervise the founding of
its new university, caused great clamor among Art Department staff and students when its report initially omitted the art program from the list of ncast
programs to be absorbed by the new university.
The report compelled Clifford Frith to solicit the support and endorsement of famous British artists and intellectuals. After failing to persuade
the celebrated painter Francis Bacon to visit Zaria, in early 1961 he invited
the painter Isabel Lambert (19121992)an important British member
of the figurative avant-garde better known for her professional and personal
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Once the decision was made to keep the Art Department as part of the
new university, the faculty had to consider the place of art history and African
art in its curriculum. In spite of the occasional seminars and lectures on African and Nigerian art since Patrick Georges tenure, the official incorporation
of art history into the program became a matter of intense dispute within the
department. In a sense it highlighted the fact that structural and curricular
changes in the educational sector were part of a slow, contentious process,
even in postindependence Nigeria.
Two teachers, Donald Hope and Eric Taylor, opposed the introduction of
art history to enhance the departments academic standing.17 It was impossible, they argued, to teach the history of European art as an academic discipline, because the teachers and students at Zaria did not have direct access
to works of art. And even if European art historians were invited to teach
in Zaria, they would be frustrated by the absence of art museums there or
anywhere in Nigeria. In their view, rather than introduce regular courses in
African art, the new university could only establish limited and elementary
art history classes taught with lantern slides and photographs, as was already being done in the college. This argument turns on its head Enwonwus
famous 1956 critique of colonial art institutions to the effect that, whereas
European artists had unfettered access to excellent specimens of African art
in European museums, African artists at best see only reproductions and
third-rate examples of European art.18
The argument that Hope and Taylor presented against teaching the history of African art to Nigerian students at the new university is even more remarkable for the authors inability to imagine African artworks as objects of
systematic art appreciation, criticism, and history, especially in a new nation
in need of meaningful perspectives on the history of the arts and material
cultures of its constituent peoples and societies and on its place in world
history. To them, nothing in ancient, traditional, or contemporary African
visual arts qualified as fine art, a fact nullifying any claims they may have
had as legitimate subjects of art history. To drive home this very point, they
suggested that art students take courses in the proposed departments of
African History and Archaeology and African Studies and Anthropology or
have teachers from those departments give occasional lectures in the Art
Department.
Taylor and Hopes memorandum highlights the differences in opinion
within the Art Department on the proper response to the problem of adapting its program to the needs of postindependence Nigerian students and
society.
85
Given the widespread perception of fine arts inferiority as an academic pursuit and despite Enwonwus national renown, the decision by four of the
eleven students admitted in September 1957 to confront the status quo was
nothing short of historic. These students came to Zaria with the ambition to
become professional artists after their art training. They were not prepared
to cede to their counterparts in other disciplines any claim to or air of academic superiority, in part because they entered Zaria highly recommended.
Of the four, Uche Okeke (b. 1933) had already had a successful one-person
exhibition at the Jos Museum in 1956, an achievement only a few contemporary Nigerian artists could claim; Demas Nwoko (b. 1935) won the silver
cup for best all-around entry in art in the Western Regional Festival of Arts;
Bruce Onobrakpeya (b. 1932) completed eleven paintings commissioned by
the United African Company for the main pavilion during the Ionian Sports
event in Ondo in 1957; and Jimo Akolo (b. 1934) had won several first-prize
awards in painting at the Northern Regional Festival of Arts and was included in the 1956 exhibition of paintings and prints by Keffi Boys at the
Museum of Modern Art, in New York.19
Other alliances soon followed, with Nwoko and Uche Okeke as the nucleus
of a widening circle of friends in the art department. Three students from
the previous class, Yusuf Grillo (b. 1934), Simon Obiekezie Okeke (1937
1969), and William Olaosebikan (life dates unknown), joined the group of
four.20 Early in the 1958/59 session, four new studentsOkechukwu Odita
(b. 1936) and Oseloka Osadebe (b. 1935), secondary school mates of Nwokos,
and Ogbonnaya Nwagbara (19341985) and Felix Nwoko Ekeada (b. 1934)
completed the group, providing the critical mass the leaders needed to push
for formal recognition of their association.21 Following initial discussions
by Demas Nwoko, Uche Okeke, and Simon Obiekezie Okeke on the possibilities of forming a Nigerian art society, an inaugural meeting of an association simply called Art Society took place on October 9, 1958. A month
later, Simon Okeke was elected president, Uche Okeke secretary, and Onobrakpeya treasurer, with Mrs. Hart, wife of the college principal, serving as
patron of the society.22
The aim of the Art Society was to encourage the study of Fine Arts and
hold weekly discussions on varied aspects of West African culture with special reference to Nigerian culture.23 On different occasions they discussed
folktales, water spirits and deities, burial customs, marriage ceremonies, use
of local names, indigenous mural paintings in Nigeria, and body marks, as
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86
well as the ancient art of Benin, Ife, and Igbo-Ukwu. From the onset, the
society planned to publish its own magazine, but the idea was shelved indefinitely in November 1959 due to lack of funds. However, the students magazine, Nigercol, offered useful space for the writings of some of the Art Society
members, particularly Uche Okeke, who published articles in all four issues
of the annual magazine.24
Impressively enough, Uche Okekes publications were based on primary
research in traditional Nigerian cultures. For instance his article Birom
Burial, an account of burial and funerary practices of the Birom people of
the Middle Belt region, appeared in 1958, followed by Ibo Folk Tales, his
first important essay on Igbo folklore and religion, illustrated with four of his
own drawings. In 1960 he published the poem Ebinti Song, and Odita contributed the essay Nigerian Art and Artists, a panoptic account of professional artists in eastern Nigeria, from traditional blacksmiths in Awka to Ben
Enwonwu and Uche Okeke. The magazines last issue included two Okeke
poems: Ewu, an ode to a sacrificial goat, and Moonlight, on the theme of
childhood play in the village square.
The themes of these Nigercol publications by Okeke and Odita, consistent with the aims of the Art Society, are significant not least because they
were among the first meaningful efforts to include Nigerian art and cultures
among the resources and materials to which contemporary artists and scholars must pay attention. It was as if Okeke and Odita realized that the basis of
any constructive engagement with local expressive cultures by contemporary
artists and art historians was primary research focused on these cultures. In
this way they preempted and indeed may have encouraged the March 1959
southern Nigeria tour by art department faculty that ultimately led to occasional lectures on Nigerian arts and cultures by resident and invited scholars.
They must have realized that only through such direct engagement with the
local cultural environment could contemporary artists and scholars commence the daunting yet necessary journey toward establishing a meaningful
discourse on Nigerian art in the art academy.
In a very significant way, the exchange of information and ideas about
indigenous cultures of Nigeria within an academic environment was a subversive gesture, because it provided its members a cultural counterweight
to Zarias Western-oriented curriculum. The society members readiness to
share information and experiences unique to their own ethnicitiesor as in
the case of the Birom text by Okeke, from their places of residencetestified
to a nationalist impulse, an eagerness to claim the diverse ethnic cultures
and traditions as part of a collective national heritage. However, notwith-
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clude that foreign affiliation was the only viable option in a decolonizing
Nigeria. Rather, as with nationalist politicians who, preferring immediate independence, rejected the gradualist approach to political independence prescribed by Britain, the Art Society wanted instant and complete autonomy
from British institutions and lobbied to restructure the program with more
local staff and curricular content. In this sense they might have agreed with
the South African writer Ezekiel Mphahlele (Eskia Mphahlele), who argued
in 1959 that gradualism, as a political tactic in the liberation of southern
Africa, paralyses the African intelligentsia as a liberatory force.26
The Art Society disbanded in June 1961, on the eve of the graduation of
Uche Okeke, Demas Nwoko, and Bruce Onobrakpeya. Concerned about the
antagonistic relationship between the society and the fine art students association and the general distrust of the groups activities within the Art Department, the societys triumvirate did not wish to see their junior colleagues
bear the burden of their three years of troublemaking. More to the point, the
society had outlived its relevance in Zaria, then in the process of becoming
a new, regional university. Looking to the future, Uche Okeke noted in his
diary that the struggle now lies outside of the Zaria College.27
Natural Synthesis
Although the Art Society was quite firm in opposing the continued imposition of foreign artistic and educational institutions and ideals on soon-to-be-
independent Nigeria, its opposition did not amount to outright rejection of
Western art or any benefits that could accrue from adapting its institutional
structures to suit the Nigerian environment. Its vision of contemporary
Nigerian art was qualified by the same sense of realism adopted by its Egyptian modernist counterparts, who in the 1940s and 1950s came to terms with
the inevitability of alien European practices, without which their hope of
participating in the discourse and making of modern art would have been
impossible.28 It was obvious to the Art Society that the first stage in the development of modern Nigerian art depended on art instruction by Western
artists and art teachers schooled in the canons of European art. But they
also realized that the changing political climate called for a new relationship
with Europe and its art and institutions, a new order anchored in the critical
agency of the Nigerian artist and in his freedom to determine the terms of
his engagement with his ancestral heritage, with Europe, and with the postcolonial world.
Unabashedly accepting of Western notions of progress and moderniza-
tion, the group nevertheless resisted an uncritical nativism and the unidirectional spread of shades of what Geeta Kapur has called modernist universalism.29 To the group, notions of political, economic, and cultural progress
and modernization, though dependent on the encounter with the West
mostly through colonization, had to acknowledge the cultural specificity of
all artistic expression. In a move that must be seen as the fulfillment of A. O.
Osulas 1952 prediction of the emergence of artists whose work would result from a synthesis of Western and local art traditions and styles, the Art
Society adopted natural synthesis as a theoretical model for its new work.
In his presidential address marking the first anniversary of the Art Society at the beginning of the 1959 fall term, Uche Okeke outlined the idea he
would call natural synthesis a year later. Exhortatory and upbeat, he criticized the shortsighted schemers of [Nigerias] inadequate educational system, which he said was responsible for the poor state of its contemporary
art, and stressed the role the society had to play in championing the cause of
art in independent Nigeria and Africa. In a key passage, Okeke states:
In our difficult work of building a truly Modern African art to be cherished
and appreciated for its own sakenot only for its functional valueswe
are inspired by the struggle of such modern Mexican artists as Orozsco
[sic] and his compatriots. We must fight to free ourselves from mirroring
foreign culture. . . . We must have our own school of art independent of
European and Oriental schools, but drawing as much as possible from
what we consider in our clear judgment to be the cream of these influences, and wedding them to our native art culture.30
Three aspects of Okekes argument are noteworthy. First is his claim for
the aesthetic autonomy of modern African art; he wished to distance it from
traditional African artworks, widely regarded in his time simply as functional, ritual objects. Second is his rejection of cultural colonialism, symbolically manifest in the push for the Goldsmiths College affiliation. The
significance of the Mexican artists alliance with their countrys revolutionary movement was not lost on Okeke who, with his Art Society colleagues,
was influenced by and identified with the work of Nigerias political nationalists, as well as of pan-Africanists, including Nnamdi Azikiwe and W. E. B.
Du Bois. Third is his argument that modern African arts inclusion of alien
forms and concepts did not necessarily compromise its autonomy or integrity. Instead, the new artist could appropriate whatever he wished on his own
terms.
Okeke formally proposed the idea of natural synthesis in his second an-
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if for Murray the recovery of traditional art and crafts is the basis of contemporary African creative authenticity, natural synthesis located that authenticity in the exercise of the will to determine what aspects of that tradition
could be mobilized in fashioning a resolutely modern art that would not be
beholden to the glories of traditional arts. I argue, then, that in prescribing
the appropriation of the traditional art as a partial resource for a critical reformulation of a self-consciously modernist art, natural synthesis authorized an
instrumental approach to traditional African art completely different from
Murrays desire to revalorize it, such that it could serve as a bulwark against
the supposed corrupting influence of decadent Western art and civilization.
In another section of his presidential address, Okeke explained his use of
synthesis, noting that I am often tempted to describe it as natural synthesis, for it should be unconscious, not forced.33 Although it is quite tempting
to think of synthesis in dialectical terms or to think of unconscious in the
light of Freudian psychoanalysis, there is no indication that Okeke and his
colleagues, while at Zaria, had any interest in or familiarity with Hegels dialectic or that they were keen on philosophical propositions subsumed under
Hegelian logic and Marxian dialectical method. He might also have been
unaware of Jean-Paul Sartres elaborate, theoretically labored attempt a decade earlier to read negritude poetry in dialectical terms but on the basis of
race and class in metropolitan France. Based on conversations I have had
with Okeke over the years, it is clear to me that he imagined his idea of synthesis as operative in two ways. First, as a condition, meaning recognition
of the historical reality of postcolonial society as constituted by indigenous,
premodern, and Western elements, each no less valid or important than the
others. And second, as a practice, one that assumes the artists capacity to be
an active mediator of culture, cultural formations, and ideas. Taken together,
what is implied is the purposeful blending of distinctive, disparate, yet mutually entangled heritages in order to live meaningfully or authentically in a
contemporary postcolonial and unapologetically modern society.
Moreover, Okeke seems to have relied on the ideas generated at the beginning of the decade by Dennis Duerden and A. O. Osula, who in their discussion of contemporary Nigerian art used synthesis to describe the kind of
work around which future artists must establish their theoretical framework
and operative modalities. Besides the fact that Duerden and Osula had previously proposed the idea of synthesis as a critical paradigm for the new work,
it was also the favored mode of articulating the work of African and black
writers, philosophers, and social scientists of the period. It is fairly accurate
to suggest that in the 1950s synthesis was in the air, generated as it was by the
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paradoxical mix of realism and romanticism of African, Africanist, and Afrophile intellectuals who grappled with the challenge of reconciling the imperatives of cultural identity and political destiny in a decolonizing and modernizing Africa. This much is evident from the deliberations of the First and
Second International Congress of Black Writers and Artists in Paris (1956)
and Rome (1959), at which convened many influential black intellectuals and
politicians. The First Congressdescribed by conservative French media as
a Cultural Bandung, after the 1955 Asian-African Conference of newly independent and anticolonial states in Bandung, Indonesiawas held at the
Sorbonne and supported by giants of the French left intelligentsia, including Sartre, Thodore Monod, Claude Lvi-Strauss, and Pablo Picasso (who
designed the conference poster). Organized by a network of black intellectuals situated within and around the negritude movement and the influential
francophone journal Prsence Africaine, the Paris congress called for the study
of black cultures, with the purpose of demonstrating their contributions to
global civilizations. The Rome congress, taking place months before Okeke
wrote the drafts of his text, in particular urged African artists and scholars
to transcend European models through experiments with traditional African
expressive forms and languages.34 Moreover, the Society of African Culture,
formed in the wake of the Paris congress and in collaboration with Prsence
Africaine, was mandated to enable the revitalization of black cultures and
to participate in the creation of a modern universal culture. In other words,
whether or not synthesis was used to describe the task of black and African
artists and intellectuals of the age of decolonization, there was a widespread
but by no means unchallenged understanding that this work must entail the
reflexive appropriation and combination of European and African cultural,
technical, and conceptual resources. This discursive environment provided
the wider context for Okekes formulation of natural synthesis and, more
generally, for the ideas and work of the Art Society in Zaria and beyond.
To be sure, Okekes suggestion that synthesis must be unforced and his
characterization of their synthesis as natural sidestep two major considerations. First, awareness and assertion of ones cultural identity involves sets
of complex operations that are anything but intuitive. Second, his description of their conceptual program as natural belies what one might call its implication of a tactical synthesis; that is to say, a systematic approach to image
making in terms of which artistic traditions to explore and what specific
elements from those traditions to subject to formal examination. Clearly,
then, by describing the project as natural he aligned it with the tendency
of political nationalism, as Benedict Anderson has argued, to insist on the
In his 1881 lecture at the Liberia College (now the University of Liberia, Monrovia) titled The Idea of an African Personality, the educator and writer
Edward W. Blyden (18321912) made a strong case for Africas unique cultural history and experience in the face of the continents encounter with
Western civilization. African personality from then on became a key concept in pan-Africanist discourse and practice. Blydens argument is based on
the recognition of a contemporary perception of black people as Europes
other: its maligned, unredeemable antithesis.
Those who have lived in civilised communities, where there are different
races, know the disparaging views which are entertained of the Negroes by
their neighbours, and often, alas, by themselves. The standard of all physical and intellectual excellence in the present civilisation being the white
complexion, whatever deviates from that favoured colour is proportionately depreciated until the black, which is the opposite, becomes not only
the most unpopular but the most unprofitable colour.37
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Arrayed against the black man, Blyden argues, are the prejudices that have
become a fundamental, if not always acknowledged, part of social practice
in Western society, prejudices encoded in literature read by Africans who, in
turn, internalize the racism inherent in them, ultimately resulting in self-
doubt or blind imitation and adoption of Western values.
Nevertheless, the solution is not in looking to foreigners but in learning
from our brothers in the interior who know better than we do the laws of
growth for the race.38 Even when the Negro adopts those aspects of Western
culture that are beneficial to him, he must bring in his own racial consciousness; such borrowing, argues Blyden, needs to be shaped by the Negros race
individuality. Blyden suggests that only through recourse to the emotions
and sensibilities natural to him, not through uncritical, ultimately unsuccessful mimicry, could the Negro stand any chance of exciting white peoples
real curiosity and respect.39 Though we are all human beings, ran his argument, we are not the same, and the sooner the Negro realizes that, in other
words the sooner he asserts his racial and cultural difference, the better become his chances of developing a naturally and culturally conducive modern society. It has to be said, though, that in spite of his spirited criticism
of racism, Blydens conception of race, like those of Alexander Crummell
(18191898) and W. E. B. Du Bois, is based on nineteenth-century European racialist thought. He accepts rather than questions a discourse of race
bolstered by ersatz scientific and skewed moral argumentsthat was responsible for the oppression of black people.
In the postWorld War II period, Kwame Nkrumah (19091972), the first
president of Ghana and a leading pan-Africanist, brought the idea of African personality back into mainstream decolonization discourse. Yet despite
its attractiveness and symbolic power, African personality has no specific
meaning; it is one of those indefinable concepts or terms that is nevertheless charged with potential meaning, depending on the particular context
of use. Ahmed Skou Tour (19221984) of Mali, for instance, spoke of the
economy, law, and education as rediscovering or rehabilitating the African
personality, while Nkrumah referred to the need for an African personality
in international affairs, by which he meant asserting an African voice on the
global scene. In another instance, Nkrumah argued that the revival of African personality was an important goal of pan-Africanism in the postindependence era, implying that the concepts are indistinguishable. It is safe to say
that African personality refers to ways of claiming or asserting the humanity
of black peoples in Africa and the diaspora and is a symbolic expression of the
political aspirations of African peoples. In that the term describes rhetorical
gestures deployed to counter the burdens placed on black peoples by the experience of racism and colonialism, it is an ideological and propaganda tool
for African decolonization and independence movements.
Rather than propose an atavistic return to an imagined precolonial, pristine condition, African personality implied an active process of subject formation based on appropriated elements from traditional/indigenous and
modern/Western cultures, politics, and social practices. Viewed in the context of African nationalist movements, the phrase simultaneously signified
the Africans projection and expression of a personality different from that
of the European and his rejection of European control of his subjectivity.40
These political and ideological aspects of African personality are precisely
what Uche Okeke and his colleagues wished to identify with through the
theory of natural synthesis, and it is in this sense, then, that the two ideas
come close to and are indeed analogous to negritude, invented in Paris during the interwar period.
1930s, negritude (in French, ngritude) derived from a belief in the singularity and greatness of the black race. Though largely a literary movement, it
inspired an artistic movement in Senegal in the 1960s, as many African artists associated with its Afrocentric aesthetic. Rather than merely be preoccupied with literary and intellectual matters, negritude derived from the alienation felt by black migrs in mainland France confronted, even traumatized,
by the impossibility of a raceless French utopia attainable only through total
immersion in French language and culture. Despite the fact that the colonial
policy adopted by France, better known as assimilation, made the colonial
subjects from certain parts of the empirein reality a tiny percentage of the
black eliteFrench citizens, it spectacularly failed to shield them from the
prevalent racism they encountered in the motherland. Thus, their double
displacement or alienation, their physical and cultural distance from African
traditional culture, and their social isolation from metropolitan society inevitably led to negritude as a self-affirmative movement.41 As Csaire argued,
negritude is both a psychic journey toward self-reclamation, a process of reconnection to a real and imaginary African past, in order to demonstrate the
status of the black peoples as products and agents of history:
[I]f someone asks me what my conception of Ngritude is, I answer that
above all it is a concrete rather than an abstract coming to consciousness.
And it seemed to me that if what we want is to establish this identity, then
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can artistic tradition(s), the negritude visual and literary aesthetic evoked
qualities that Senghor imagined as unique to black people. And since African myths and generic extrapolations from Western anthropologies of Africa
played a vital role in Senghors enunciation of negritude philosophy, artistic
expressions associated with it often avoided concrete references to art forms
and design principles specific to any particular African society. Thus, the
conjunction of modernist art and negritude philosophy at the cole des Arts,
Dakar, in the early 1960s resulted in work, such as Papa Ibra Talls Royal
Couple (1965), characterized in large part by visual rhythm, rich patterns,
figural elegance, masks, royalty, and folklore, all meant to evoke memories
of real and imaginary glorious African pasts (see figure 3.6).45 This work, because it did not seek to invent a visual language based on any specific Senegalese artistic heritage, reflected the artists interpretations of Senghors for-
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Art Society encountered it, mostly through the journal Black Orpheus, along
with pan-Africanism and African personality.
Given Okekes emphasis, in natural synthesis, on the exploration and adaptation of indigenous Nigerian art forms as bases for the Art Societys work
remember the lines in Okolobia, blending diverse culture types, / the cream
of native kind / adaptable alien typethe question that must be asked is
this: to what extent did the work that he and his colleagues produced while
in Zaria reflect this idea? To this I argue that close analysis of this body of
work reveals that the painting styles of the Art Society group did not so much
reflect a thorough grounding in Nigerian artistic tradition as show these artists grappling with the formal lessons of the work of European symbolists,
postimpressionists, and later modernists. This raises crucial questions about
the relationship between praxis and rhetoric, between desire and reality. It
calls for a reevaluation of our understanding of how the work of these artists
evolved over time and of the claims made about the work from this period.
But I first examine the Art Societys exemplary Zaria-period work and only
later reflect on its relationship to the theory of natural synthesis and, beyond
that, Nigerian art history.
UCHE OKEKE READ considerably about and was familiar with the work of Euro-
99
ture plane. The color work is evidently fauvist, but the paint application is
inconsistent, with heavy impastos in the bottom areas and livelier brushwork toward the top of the canvas. Similarly, in Egbenuoba, which refers to a
masked performance of the hunters cult among the north-central Igbo, the
figure is depicted as a fierce, mustached adult male with a titled-mans red
cap adorned with red, spiked branches. The dramatically rendered ocher skin
and facial featuresparticularly the dome-shaped, flaring nostrils, the burning, semicircular eyes, and the cantilevered eyelidsare set against the blue
and red torso and a green-blue background. In these pictures Okeke combines the structural serendipity of Igbo carved face masks with an expressive
palette. In so doing, he arrives at a pictorial language redolent, though in an
indeterminate way, of early twentieth-century European modernist painting.
But if there were any doubt that these are truly the works of an artist in
search of an appropriate visual expression of his engagement with modernist
painting, the very different style of several other paintingsincluding Madonna and Child (1961), Christ (1961; figure 3.9), and Jumaa (1961)confirms
their experimental status. These latter paintings, stridently graphic and severe,
are characterized by flat, hard-edged areas of color enlivened by stocky figures
with stylized facial features rendered as distinct sculptured forms. In Madonna and Child, light and delicate brushwork combine with clearly defined
and boldly colored shapes. The effect, both graphic and decorative, is remarkably reminiscent of stained-glass painting. Jumaa, a landscape composition
with five men clad in white, flowing robes in the fore- and mid-ground and
a fringe of umber adobe houses in the back, is especially striking; even with
few descriptive details the figures are solid, architectonic, and monumental
(figure 3.10).49 Even a cursory comparison between the formal style of this
work and that of, say, Egbenuoba reveals drastically different approaches to
color, form, and composition, all in various ways alluding to his interest in the
visual rhetoric of the early European modernist avant-garde.
In yet another painting, Ana Mmuo (Land of the Dead) (1961; figure 3.11),
described by Okeke as a purely experimental work, the artist makes an
unprecedented and intriguing turn to abstraction, combining elements he
appears to draw from the pictorial styles of Joan Mir and Paul Klee, whose
works he was reading about at the time. Against a background of large abstract and organic shapes of cadmium red, orange, and yellow are solid black
lines describing amorphous forms of spirit beings implied in the works title.
The banishment of illusionistic space and volumetric form in some of his
other pictures reaches its logical conclusion here, leaving only broad shapes
of color and superimposed linear forms. Ana Mmuo is important in the development of Okekes painting precisely because it seems to occupy a critical juncture, a point when his experimentation with various stylistic modes
rooted in European modernism led to an epiphanic momentthe realization of the possibilities of Igbo traditional mural and body art as sources for
his painting.50
There is another aspect of Okekes work from Zaria that no doubt complicates our view of his formal experiments. Back in the summer of 1958,
he visited the Jos Museums ethnographic collection and made sketches of
objects, as well as extensive, meticulous typological studies of body marks,
design motifs found on artifacts, and tree bark patterns.51 Throughout the
following year, he produced a large series of fantastical, crisp pen-and-ink
drawings, exemplified by Nza the Smart (1958; figure 3.12), composed from
a bewildering range of abstract motifs but depicting characters from popular
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Figure 3.10 Uche Okeke, Jumaa, oil on board, 1961. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Uche Okeke.
Igbo folktales.52 Nza illustrates the tiny sunbird that outsmarted other animals by disguising itself as a larger, monstrous bird. In this drawing, Okeke
represents the birds elephantine legs and torso with motifs adapted from the
rough patterns of palm tree trunks, while weblike patterns define the formless outlines of its asymmetrical wings. Another drawing from the series,
The Fabled Brute (1959), shows a composite animal covered by spiral forms
massed together to form a dense, warty skin. As in Nza, the snarling beast
in this drawing, which in some ways reminds one of the tormented horse at
the center of Picassos Guernica (1937), is mostly two-dimensional except for
the thick dark lines suggesting the articulation of its legs and head and the
hatched lines defining the beasts upper palate. The legs and webbed feet,
antlers, serrated teeth, and bulging eyes are flat and belie the artists interest
in surface patterning and design rather than suggest forms in space.
It is no wonder that Okeke set these drawings in the world of Igbo tales,
wherein characters taken from the phenomenal world are given to paranormal feats in wondrous circumstances, often involving episodes and characters from the land of the dead, where anything is possible. The bound-
Figure 3.9 Uche Okeke, Christ, 1961. Collection of Iwalewa-Haus, University of Bayreuth.
Uche Okeke.
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Figure 3.11 Uche Okeke, Ana Mmuo (Land of the Dead), oil on board, 1961. Gift of Joanne B. Eicher and Cynthia, Carolyn Ngozi,
and Diana Eicher 9731. Photo, Franko Khoury. National Museum of African Art, Smithsonian Institution. Uche Okeke.
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DEMAS NWOKOS WORK, like that of Okeke, traversed several stylistic modes,
demonstrating both his own personal dialogue with modern European artists and the exchanges occurring between Art Society friends. By the beginning of his junior year (1959), Nwoko had adopted a vivid expressionistic style marked by rapidly delivered brushwork, a palette of earthy colors,
and clumsily drawn figures with anxious facial expressions (Earning a Living
and Churchgoers, both 1959). His penchant for deadpan humor and social
commentary is manifest in another of his early pictures, Beggars in the Train
(1959; figure 3.13). Dealing with the same theme, almsgiving, as Okekes
Jumaa, Nwoko here mixes pathossuggested by the laconic disposition of
the three figures, who seem to suffer from some uncertain bodily affliction
with a representation of the beggars as caricatures, as despicable monstrosities dominating the dark, claustrophobic interior of the train coach. Indeed,
the deformed monstrous face, evident in Beggars, would be an important,
enduring characteristic of Nwokos style.
By 1960 Nwokos palette and facture had come so close to Okekes that
some of each ones works could be easily misattributed to the other. His previously energetic brushwork all but disappears, and his surfaces become flatter, his forms more precisely drawn or delineated. A second version of Beggars on the Train, with its clearly defined compositional elements and more
confidently drawn figures, shows this dramatic change.53 Where the volumetric space of the trains interior in the first Beggars is subtly evident, in the sec-
Figure 3.14
Demas Nwoko, Ogboni
Chief, oil on board,
1961. Artists collection.
Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
table faces. It is as if the men recruited to protect the officers and the late
colonial regime have turned into deaths messengers, executioners waiting
impatiently for the final hour of liberation. This is what makes this painting
perhaps the most poignant comment by any Nigerian artist on the tension,
anxiety, and disquiet between colonial officers and their Nigerian subordinates on the eve of political independence.
Despite the compelling conceptual density of this painting and its focus
on a critical period in Nigerian political history, we must note that, stylistically, it owes much to the artists studies of European modernism. For al108
Figure 3.15
Demas Nwoko, Nigeria
in 1959, oil on board,
1960. Artists collection.
Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
though the work sidesteps pictorial realism, its smooth and resolved surface texture and brushwork, along with the solidly drawn figures, recall the
antiexpressionist formal clarity characteristic of Neue Sachlichkeit painting in
Germany in the interwar period. But there is no clear stylistic consistency in
Nwokos work in his senior year. For instance, in Praying Woman and Churchgoers (both also from 1960), the style is more resolutely expressionist, and
there is an energetic vigor in the brushwork, an almost insouciant air that belies the rather serious atmosphere conjured by the themes. Nwoko displays
in all these pictures sufficient familiarity with modes already established by
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Figure 3.16 Demas Nwoko, White Fraternity, oil on board, ca. 1960. Collection of National Council
for Arts and Culture, Abuja. Photo, the author. Demas Nwoko.
European modernist painters. In both form and composition, the 1960 pictures assert the artists ability to appropriate, manage, and control techniques
of delivery learned from an encounter with modern European painting.
Nwokos use of contrasting color and exaggerated, highly stylized forms
for dramatic effect is most evident in White Fraternity (1960; figure 3.16), in
which a dark, amorphous, supine figure tries to separate four interlocked
white and yellow hands that appear to be connected by a single arterial system. The areas of flat color and the epigrammatic rendition of the hands,
flowers, and thorns suggest first the conspiracy of the white race to maintain
the oppressive apartheid system in South Africa and, second, the impossibility of breaking Western collective control over the destiny of independent
black Africa. In this and other pictures, Nwoko pushed his use of arbitrary
color and inventively stylized forms to their dramatic limits, further in fact
than did Okeke in his own flat, preAna Mmuo paintings of 1961.
If White Fraternity is indicative of Nwokos short-lived attention to the pictorial value of two-dimensional forms and shapes (although he returned to
this style after Zaria), he still did not completely jettison the figural style developed in, for example, Nigeria in 1959. Nevertheless, his palette remained
expressionistic, as it did in Bathing Women (1961; figure 3.17), which depicts
Figure 3.17 Demas Nwoko, Bathing Women, oil on canvas, 1961. Artists collection. Photo, the
author. Demas Nwoko.
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a group of naked rotund women bathing in a forest stream; and The Leopard (1961), in which a cluster of birds and animals mock a crouching leopard
from behind a curtain of forest plants. In both paintings, pictorial space is
totally collapsed. The striking exuberance of tropical foliage, the insinuation
of the naturalness of female sexuality (as well as the projection of male sexual
fantasy in Bathing Women), and finally the attention to the decorative value of
color, shapes, and patterns all recall the naive naturalism of Henri Rousseau
and the modernist primitivism of Paul Gauguin, two French postimpressionists whose work Nwoko and Okeke were studying at the time.
strikingly similar to Nwokos, particularly in the representation of nonperspectival space and a palette of intense, often complementary colors. A self-
confessed admirer of Gauguins Tahiti paintings and of the work of Vincent
van Gogh, Onobrakpeya was attracted to Gauguins renderings of pastoral
and mythological subject matter in rich, somberly symbolist color.54 Yet although he draws parallels on the one hand between the brilliant sunshine of
Tahiti and the south of France (where Gauguin and van Gogh, respectively,
resided and painted some of their best-known work) and on the other the
sun-drenched southern Nigerian forests where he sets his mythological compositions, there is a remarkable difference. Onobrakpeyas painting, against
our expectations, evokes not so much the brilliance of the tropical as the
shaded, saturnine atmosphere of the deep forest floor. This much is evident
in Eketeke vbe Erevbuye (Two Laziest People) (1961; figure 3.18), in which two
spindly figures from Urhobo folklore impossibly wrestle atop the stalks of
cocoyam plants, and Hunters Secret (1961), where a red-colored, tortoiselike
form gazes at a green female centaurlike spirit. Here the artist paints in what
he refers to as his mythical realist mode, conjuring pictorial equivalences of
the mythological fantasies of Urhobo oral narratives.
Onobrakpeya collected folktales as part of his cultural workin the process of reimmersing himself in his native culture through its oral traditions,
as well as simply recording them for posteritybut also as sources for his
artistic subjects. In this, his interest in folktales compares with Uche Okekes
work involving Igbo tales. But unlike Okeke, whose imagery often focused
on characters from Igbo folktales, Onobrakpeya included in his paintings
the mythological landscapes that provide visual context for the actions of the
human, animal, and metaphysical subjects of the folktales.
Even when Onobrakpeya takes on an unremarkable subject, as in Land-
scape with Skull and Anthill (1961; figure 3.19), his intense symbolist color and
foreshortened space yield an almost surreal landscape that seems to make
sense only in the world of mythology and folklore. In other words, Onobrakpeya depends on his adaptation of European fauvist and symbolist formal
styles for his visual interpretation of indigenous folkloric subject matter, the
exploration of which he and his Art Society mates considered important for
modern Nigerian art.
Figure 3.19 Bruce Onobrakpeya, Landscape with Skull and Anthill, oil on board, 1961. Artists collection.
Photo, the author. Bruce Onobrakpeya.
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IN THIS ACCOUNT OF THE work of the Art Society in Zaria, we are constantly
reminded of the subtle differential emphases in the artist-members pictorial styles, despite the pervasive influence of the European avant-garde. We
must note, though, that the work of the 1962 group (which includes Oseloka
Figure 3.21 Yusuf Grillo, Sabada (Dance), 1964. Private collection. Image courtesy of Bonhams.
Yusuf Grillo.
Figure 3.22 Yusuf Grillo, Harvest, oil on board, early 1960s. Collection of Mr. G. Hathiramani.
Image courtesy of Bonhams. Yusuf Grillo.
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Figure 3.27 Clifford Frith, Harmattan Landscape with Figures, oil on canvas, 19601961.
Collection of Grant Waters. Clifford Frith.
Even the paintings of Jimo Akolothough the fourth member of the 1961
painting class, he refused to join the societytestify to the importance of the
European avant-garde in the evolving style of a group linked as much by ideological convictions as by similar artistic interests. In Akolos late Zaria work,
such as Hausa Drummer (1961; figure 3.31), there is the same combination
of flat areas of intense color and modeled, volumetric facial features already
noted in Okekes paintings. Moreover, the interplay between the cobalt blue /
cadmium red of the drummer and his drums and the warm green of his shoe
sole is reminiscent of Okekes use of the same colors in, say, Egbenuoba. De124
Figure 3.31 Jimo Akolo, Hausa Drummer, oil on canvas, 1961. Courtesy, University of Sussex. Jimo Akolo.
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the Art Society group, how do we make sense of Okekes claims about natural synthesis and national consciousness, about imagining a Nigerian modernism that is no longer beholden either to Western art or to the arts of the
traditional African and Nigerian societies? Where, indeed, is the rebellion
that art historians and critics ascribe to the society if it is not indexed in the
work that its members were making at the time? One way to untangle this
paradoxical European modernist stylistic sensibility in Art Society work is
to suggest that the groups initial attraction to early European modernism
was consistent with its overall program, which, as Okekes statement on the
societys last day of existence suggested, would continue beyond Zaria. It is
thus not so much that they misrecognized the challenge posed by the theory
of natural synthesis as that the Zaria work was only the first step toward the
realization of its full artistic implications.
While the stylistic connections between the work of members of the Art
Society and the European avant-garde now seem quite obvious, we are less
certain about the reasons for their attraction to postimpressionist and fauvist painting, as opposed to the more radical cubist style ostensibly linked
with African art or even to nonobjective abstraction. Conscious appropriation
of the latter or its derivatives, come to think of it, could have been a useful
political gesture, one that might have played well into the politics of artistic decolonization by demonstrating the Nigerian artists right, as it were,
to take back from Europe African sculptures gift to Parisian modernism.
Moreover, such a focus on modernisms debts to African sculpture could
have delivered to the Art Society the opportunity to critique colonialisms
role in the making of European modern art, since African artifacts and material cultures flooded Europe under the auspices of colonial trade, science,
and military campaigns. In any case, a different, more helpful way to think of
the Art Societys attraction to postimpressionism is, perhaps, that they identified with the historic and sweeping impact of the late nineteenth- and early
twentieth-century European avant-garde on the post-Renaissance tradition of
constructed naturalism; but they were not so keen on the radical abstraction
of Picasso-Braque cubism, the nonobjective aspects of surrealism and Dada,
or postWorld War II abstract expressionism.
Compared to early modernist painting or to the work of their teachers
who also included Clara Ugbodaga, who taught drawing and whose work in
the late 1950s involved what one might call a postcubist collage aesthetic
the work of the Art Society can seem quite ordinary, much as European modernist riffs of African sculpture can sometimes seem pedestrian compared
to their original African models. But given that these young artists Euromodernist style was only the first step in a journey that they imagined from
the beginning would go beyond their Zaria tutelage and because they were
simultaneously building the infrastructure of that next phase through research into traditional Nigerian art forms and oral traditions, it is fair to conclude that the artistic significance of their Zaria work derives totally from its
place within the modernism anticipated by the theory of natural synthesis.
Moreover, given the critical influence of the European historical avant-
garde on Art Society (and Akolos) painting, does Okekes disagreement with
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those who live in Africa and ape European artists in his 1960 speech not
amount to a denial of the groups conscious appropriation of modernist international styles and aesthetics? This may well be the case; in a way it points
to the dialectical tensions, the push-pull, attract-resist, and infinitely fraught
relationship of the colonized African self and its European imperial other.
Evidently, in the process of asserting cultural and artistic autonomy, it was
imperative for these artists to learn and unlearn, to use and discard, the same
critical tools fashioned by modern European artists in their own struggles
with tradition. As this books introduction suggests, this tactic is amply reflected in the ideological practices of the era to which the work of the Art
Society is ineluctably tied.
I am thinking also of the fact that, embedded in the dialectic of African independence, in its political and cultural manifestations, was a simultaneous
rejection of imperial Europe and an attraction to its knowledge base and
political systems. We know that Edward Blyden initiated his idea of African
personality while holding on to the tenets of Christian doctrine, that Lopold
Senghor advocated African cultural independence and uniqueness among
the negritude poets though he articulated his theory of negritude using ideas
borrowed from French colonial ethnology, and that Kwame Nkrumah sharpened the political edge of African personality with the aid of Marxist and
socialist thought. The list goes on. In all these instances, the advocates of
African political and cultural identity appropriated and, in the process, reimagined what to them were progressive and useful aspects of European
socioeconomic and political experience. Their politics affirmed the right of
the African to assert his reauthenticated identity, which is, nevertheless, contingent rather than fixed but also effectively constituted by the multiplex
encounters between inherited and appropriated cultures and knowledge
systems. That African and African diaspora intellectuals of the postWorld
War II period saw this as the ideal model of African postcolonial modernity
is evident, as noted earlier, from the deliberations and communiqus issued
at the Black Writers and Artists Congresses of 1956 and 1959. To be sure, the
Rome congress resolution on African literature encouraged writers to go beyond Western literary models in their search for new forms of expression,
while its Commission on the Arts resolved that there was an over-riding
obligation imposed on all black artists to produce within their culture a liberation of all different forms of expression.58 These strategies are writ large
in the idea of natural synthesis and in the Art Societys turn to the European
historical avant-garde as an inaugural gesture in the process of articulating
the postcolonial artistic self.
But I cannot help thinking that Uche Okeke might also have been referring to a different kind of international art, the inalienably European and
international academic realism of Aina Onabolu. The difference between
the Art Societys Zaria-period work and Onabolus, in terms of a relationship
with European art, is both historical and conceptual; for whereas Onabolu
looked to a premodern tradition framed by the visual theory of one-point
perspective, the Art Society identified with the antitraditionalist work of the
European modernist avant-garde. Onabolus inflexible faith in formal academism and his unwillingness to imagine or acknowledge, even as late as the
1960s, different ways of constructing the artistic image outside the strictures
of the one-point-perspective system separates him from the kind of work anticipated by natural synthesis. In other words, the society replaced the academism of Onabolu (and Akinola Lasekan), radical as it was earlier in the
century, with the experimental aesthetic of the historical avant-garde. It is in
this sense of a conscious appropriation of European artistic forms as a means
of redefining the task of the modern African artist that the Art Society work
is genealogically related to that of Onabolu and is also the reason its work is
conceptually, not to mention ideologically, incompatible with the kind of art
enabled by Kenneth Murrays pedagogy.
Despite the reasons suggested here for the Art Societys attraction to the
work of the precubist avant-garde, the fact that it was to this early, somewhat dated, period of European modernism that they anchored their work
deserves brief commentary, because critics of modern African art might see
this as proof that these artists came late to the modernist party and thus were
anything but avant-garde. There are two ways to look at the issue. First, by
relating the Art Societys work to its specific cultural milieu, still dominated
on the one hand by neoacademic mimetic realism and on the other by nativist, naive imagery, the extent to which it represents the inaugural manifestation of postcolonial modernism in Nigeria becomes clear. I believe that
this is what Michael Crowder meant in 1962 when he declared, it is fair to
say that the young artists who are coming to the fore today in Nigeria are at
the vanguard of a cultural revolution compatible with the countrys independent status.59 It is in this sense that Onabolus work, given the state of art
in Nigeria and the racial-sociological context of colonialism at the beginning
of the twentieth century, was progressive and advanced and appears (as does
the Art Society modernism) quaint and belated only when viewed exclusively
from the warped mirror of European art history.
Second, given that the members of the Art Society had access to cubist
and later abstract expressionist art, I speculate that their attraction to pre-
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vious modernist work was a conscious decision. As their later work confirms, none of the artists were drawn to the radical formal abstraction proposed by cubism and later pushed to the limits of optical flatness by the
Russian constructivists and the American abstract expressionists. This might
be related to the Art Societys other project of depicting subject matter relating to their cultural experiences, as well as to the influence of Clifford
Friths and Patrick Georges British figurative modernism. The Art Societys
connection to European modern painting, as outlined here, has important
art-historical implications. Due to the societys claim to a critical mandate
informed by anticolonial national consciousness, criticism of its work has
tended to merge Zaria-period theoretical aspirations and artistic work, as if
the one completely explains the other. As this chapter makes clear, if we were
to focus strictly on the groups formal style, we would be hard pressed to reconcile it with the theory of natural synthesis. Many observers have done just
this but without looking closely at the less obvious aspects of the work and
its motivating theory. Part of the problem, it seems, is the failure on the part
of scholars to fully appreciate the ramifications of the idea of natural synthesis but also, more crucially, the fact that ideas often have gestation periods.
They take time to materialize, if they do so at all. So no matter how much we
scour the Art Societys Zaria work for the elements of the cream of native
kind insinuated by Okekes poem, we are left only with themes and subjects
pertaining to contemporary and traditional Nigerian cultures and peoples.
While they were working within the academic context of the art school and
while they schooled themselves in the methods of the European modernists,
the actual synthesis of Western and African formal elements simply had to
wait for another day, as chapter 5 details, after Zaria.
Chapter 4
TRANSACTING
THE M ODERN
Ulli Beier, Black Orpheus, and
the Mbari International
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caine, this glowing fire of black culture, and that the objective of the congress
was the affirmation, exaltation, and glorification of the culture of the black
peoples of the world.2
The Paris conference is important to the making of artistic modernism in
Nigeria precisely because it catalyzed and to a large extent shaped the ideas
and critical vision of Ulli Beier (19222011), a Jewish German instructor of
English in the extramural program at the University College, Ibadan, who
(so this chapter contends) was the single most influential figure in articulating this modernism. Impressed by the robust debates and presentations by
distinguished intellectuals convened at the congress, Beier also realized that
the nascent anglophone African writing, some of which he encountered in
Nigeria, could never match the vitality of its francophone counterpart without an anglophone literary forum comparable to Prsence Africaine. Within
one year, in collaboration with the German writer Janheinz Jahn (19181973),
the foremost advocate of negritude literature, he cofounded Black Orpheus,
a literary magazine that soon became the defining space for the work of the
new generation of anglophone African and black diaspora writers and artists. Four years later, Beier also founded the Mbari Artists and Writers Club
at Ibadan in partnership with several young African writers and artists, including Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke. This chapter narrates the specific
ways Black Orpheus and the Mbari Club, propelled by Beiers art criticism, his
curatorial projects, and his international network of critics and artists, produced within the space of a few years the most important theater of postcolonial modernism on the African continent during the midcentury.
To be sure, the role of Black Orpheus and the Mbari group in the development and propagation of modern African literature during the 1950s and
early 1960s has received some critical attention from literary scholars; still,
how these two legendary institutions actively participated in and shaped the
discourse of artistic modernism in Nigeria and Africa is largely unexamined.3
In this chapter I track this emergent discourse through analyses of art criticism, reviews, and portfolios published in Black Orpheus and by way of exhibitions at Mbari Ibadan. I show the specific discursive protocols through
which the cultural and literary arguments of negritude impacted and shaped
mid-twentieth-century Nigerian artistic modernism, through the critical
agency of Ulli Beier in particular. This is important because it returns to the
preceding chapters claim that the work of Art Society artists and their Nigerian contemporaries is indebted to what one might call the tactical root finding of pan-Africanism and negritude rather than to the adaptationist ideas of
Kenneth Murray. Further, an examination of the particular issues and critical
networks that defined this period of great political transformation will help
The first and only Black Orpheus editorial statement, printed in the journals
inaugural issue, observed that because a great deal of the best African writing published in French, Portuguese, or Spanish remained inaccessible to
English-only readers in Africa, the journal hoped to break down colonial language barriers by publishing this new literature in translation.4 The journal
would also publish Afro-American writers, because many of these are involved in similar cultural and social situations and their writings are highly
relevant to Africans.5 Finally, reiterating the objectives of both anglophone
pan-Africanists and the negritude movement, the editorial proclaimed a dual
program: to encourage new African writing and study the great traditions of
oral literature of African tribes. For it is on the heritage of the past, that the
literature of the future must be based.6
The editorial did not explain the meaning or origin of the journals name.
It is significant because it came from the title of Jean-Paul Sartres introductory essay for Senghors seminal anthology of negritude poetry.7 In it
Sartre compared the Orphic poetry of the new black poets with the story of
Orpheus, who in Greek mythology descended to Hades to reclaim his bride,
Eurydice, from Pluto. By naming the journal after Sartres essay, Beier and
Jahn identified it with the idea of a symbolic return to and revalidation of ancestral Africa implied in both Sartres articulation of negritude and Csaires
seminal creative work Cahier dun retour au pays natal (1939). In other words,
the model of cultural reclamation proposed by negritude and powerfully articulated by Sartre was fundamental to the Black Orpheus critical project.
Though the editorial made no mention of the visual arts, focusing instead
on its mission as a literary journal, Beiers desire to extend its work to African art was clear from the outset. During his tenure as coeditor (19571966),
the journal regularly featured portfolios, vignettes, essays, and reviews on
art; indeed, it was the only major, consistent voice for contemporary mid-
twentieth-century African and African diaspora art and artists on the continent. An examination of Beiers exemplary texts on art in Black Orpheus
reveals how far his critical interventions went in determining the journals
coverage of modern art; what is more, it provides a perspective on how his
art criticism and ideas about modern art shaped and nurtured the discourse
of modernism in Nigeria and Africa as a whole.
Ulli Beier arrived in Nigeria in October 1950 with his artist-wife, Susanne
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Wenger, a founding member of the Viennese Art Club. Her work, well received in Paris in the 1940s, was influenced by Jungian psychoanalysis.
Hired as an assistant lecturer in English phonetics at the University College, Ibadan, Beier later transferred to the Extra-Mural Department, where
he became a roving tutor for the western region government, a position requiring him to visit major towns to set up classes in African culture and literature.8 In addition, his frequent travels afforded him the opportunity to further his interest in the visual arts of the Yoruba and other southern Nigerian
cultures and to conduct seminal research, which he later published in the
government-sponsored Nigeria magazine and elsewhere.9
While Beier published a remarkably diverse range of art and artists in
Black Orpheus, two strings connect them. First, he presents to his Nigerian
audience artist models who, in his estimation, have attained the right mix
of modernist, antiacademic impulse and a sympathetic translation of indigenous African forms and concepts; second he supports emerging Nigerian and foreign artists who have shown a similar attitude toward modernism. Thus, Beiers inaugural contemporary art-related Black Orpheus essay
focused on the work of Susanne Wenger (19152009), who had become a
priestess of the Osun cult in Osogbo, where they lived until Beier left Nigeria in 1966. To Beier, Wengers work exemplified a progressive and radical
interpolation of negritude ethos into the artistic sensibilities of European
modernism.10 Moreover, she belonged to the ranks of Western artists and
scholars who, disillusioned by the failed promise of technological progress
in the aftermath of World War II, embarked on a journey to reestablish a connection with the irrational, mysterious life forces tragically lost by modern
Europe. Going beyond the merely formal interests of the Parisian modernists, she and others like herincluding Placide Tempels (19061977), Pierre
Verger (19021996), and Maya Deren (19171961)went to Africa (or Haiti
in Derens case) to immerse themselves in African culture and its philosophy. Wenger, Beier argues, went the furthest in penetrating more deeply
into the mysteries of traditional African life.11
In this essay, Beier offers Wengers work as a visual equivalent of literary
negritudein the sense of an art that synthesizes European and African cultural experience and artistic traditions. This new art, though situated within
the modernist pursuit of innovative, experimental form, rejects the aestheticism of Parisian modernism to instead identify with the more mystical aspirations of German expressionism and the affirmative, universal humanism
of negritude. Althoughas Beier illustrated with Wengers Ogboinba (Ijaw
Creation Myth); see also her Iwin, (ca. 1958; figure 4.1)this type of work is
Figure 4.1 Susanne Wenger, Iwin, screen print, ca. 1958. Iwalewa-Haus, University of Bayreuth collection. The Susan
Wenger Foundation, Zbing am Heiligenstein.
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did the work of the French fauvist Georges Rouault and the cubist Pablo
Picasso,17 his experiment with the formal style of the Khajuraho temple
sculptures from South India, famous for their sublimely erotic imagery and
ritual symbolism, escaped Beiers analysis.18 Earlier in his career, Souza had
protested the prevailing influence of second-rate realismwhat Beier called
Victorian imagery in Nigeriaby turning to native Indian art, developing in
the following years an intensely iconoclastic style that his critics often found
too shocking for commentary (figures 4.2 and 4.3).19 Thus, Beiers claim
that it is an Early Christian, rather than a Hindu atmosphere that we sense
in his work20 ignores the fact that Souza combined both with a modernist aesthetic sensibility and with what one might call postcolonial and post-
Christian existential ennui, graphically indexed in his oeuvre.21 Despite these
observations, Beiers overall argument is that Souzas successful synthesis
of various indigenous and Western artistic modes, his invention of a powerful and original personal style, and his rejection of staid academic realism
provides a crucial model for West African artists at the cultural crossroads
of late colonialism. While he does not make the connection, Beiers suggestion of Indian modernism as a model for West Africa remarkably echoes the
widespread hope on the part of the regions nationalists that Indias political
independence in 1947 would inspire immediate sovereignty for African nations. (Even before that, the early twentieth-century Lagos intellectual elite
had looked to Indian nationalists in their own struggle with British colonialism.)22 More broadly, he hoped that artists from the non-Western colonized
world or oppressed minorities such as blacks in the United States would develop a radically new art based on their political and cultural encounter with
Western modernity and its associated aesthetic traditions.
A few months before the publication of the Souza piece, Beier made a trip
to Zaria to see the work of Jimo Akolo and some members of the Art Society.
He was impressed and surprised by the quality of the work, so much so that
he was convinced it signaled the emergence of a distinctly Nigerian modernism, which he had thought impossible, as he noted in the Wenger article
only months before. In a short but important Black Orpheus essay on Demas
Nwoko published shortly after his Zaria trip, Beier introduced Nwoko as the
most compelling and innovative of the Art Society artists. Nwokos work,
moreover, provided Beier the opportunity to restate once more the problem
of modern art and colonial education in Nigeria: the failure of Onabolus and
Murrays followers to identify with the formal experimentation of the European avant-garde, beholden as they were to the sedate anatomical correctness
and sentimental story telling of so-called Victorian art.23
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The trouble, Beier argues, is the erroneous assumption that the Nigerian
artist must assert his cultural and national identity simply through the choice
of local subject matter rather than by experimentation with culturally familiar form or aesthetic qualities. The preponderance of folkloristic subjects,
village scenes, and other genre imagery, he noted, could not be the basis for
determining the character of Nigerian modernism, because the means of
realizing themes, rather than themes themselves, are what matters in discussions of style in art.24 Against this colonial modernist status quo, one cannot
but admire, declares Beier, with the Zaria group in mind, those few young
artists who have not succumbed to these trends but are poised to connect,
albeit dialectically, to the aesthetic rhetoric of international modernism.
The publication of Demas Nwokos work in Black Orpheus thus marks the
crucial moment of alliance and alignment of the work of the Art Society at
Zaria with Beiers critical muscle against the bipolar anchors of colonial modernism represented by Aina Onabolu and Kenneth Murray. This text also coincided with Beiers famous art review in Nigeria magazine, in which we see
the extent of Beiers belief in Nwokos work, as well as in his Art Society colleagues Uche Okeke and Bruce Onobrakpeya and their friend Jimo Akolo as
exemplars of progressive and modern Nigerian art. The review and the show
itselfboth unprecedented in their scope and impactmark the triumph of
Beiers art criticism and his successful insinuation of the Art Society artists
into the national consciousness; but the context of the production and reception of the exhibition and review also highlights the intense struggle for the
drivers seat among power players in the expanding Lagos art world.
Nwoko, and to a lesser extent Bruce Onobrakpeya in organizing the art section
of the exhibition are not entirely clear. But we know that by May 1960, after
much deliberation, the council appointed a selection committeecomposed
of Michael Crowder, Aina Onabolu, Nora Majekodunmi, Afi Ekong, and
othersfor the exhibition to be installed at the Kingsway Stores premises
in Lagos.26 Within the same month, after a visit to Zaria by Mrs. Majekodunmichair of the Lagos branch of the arts council at the suggestion of
Crowder, the editor of Nigeria magazine and staunch supporter of the Art
SocietyUche Okeke, Simon Okeke, Bruce Onobrakpeya, and Jimo Akolo
were invited to submit work for the Kingsway show. The plan to exhibit at
an offsite location rather than at the main Victoria Island grounds appears
to have been prompted by news that the powerful Federal Council of Ministers had appointed Ben Enwonwu to take over from the Lagos branch the
responsibility for the official arts and crafts exhibition. But a crisis erupted
when, in July, the Lagos branch received a directive from the government
to take over the official art exhibition from Enwonwu, who had resigned his
curatorial appointment.27 The arts council, in turn, invited Uche Okeke to
cocurate the exhibition and, along with his friends, to execute murals at the
arts and crafts pavilion.28
On August 25 and 26, as part of the arts councils publicity program,
Radio Nigeria broadcast an interview by Deinde George with Okeke, Nwoko,
and Onobrakpeya in which their work for the Nigeria Exhibition was highlighted. Okeke used the opportunity to affirm his belief in the significance of
the Art Societys natural synthesis in Nigerias emergent modernism:
We are faced with alien artistic medium of expression in painting and
have continued to experiment with them [sic], thereby giving new expression to our art forms. Thus by way of natural synthesis of old and new we
strive to evolve what may well be New Nigerian Art.29
Although Crowder managed the publicity given to the Zaria artists and arranged meetings between them and senior government officials, their
friendship soon unraveled, if only for a time (figure 4.4). Okeke and Nwoko
in particular seem to have drawn the ire of Michael Crowder and Nora Majekodunmithe British wife of the Federal Minister of Health, Dr. Moses Adekoyejo Majekodunmi, arguably the most influential figure on the Lagos art
scenefor more or less taking over, without oversight, the pavilions design
and decoration.30 Even so, the higher-stakes feud between Enwonwu and the
expatriate members of the Lagos branchit came to a head in July and August, when Enwonwu mass-circulated a letter exhorting Nigerian artists and
141
Figure 4.4 Okeke and Onobrakpeya working in Michael Crowders residence, Lagos, summer 1960.
Photo, courtesy of Uche Okeke / Asele Institute, Nimo.
OKEKES VAST MURAL Mother Nigeria (1960), painted on straw mat support
and measuring about thirty-by-fifty feet, depicts a mother figure in a brilliant lemon yellow dress with her children gathered in her maternal embrace. Rendered in flat colors, with the figures defined by hard-edge outlines,
their anatomical features only barely suggested, the composition achieved a
powerful monumentality, both through suppression of unnecessary details
and by its sheer scale. Although there is no indication of the ethnicity of the
mother figure or her childrenperhaps an acknowledgment of the fraught
nature of ethnic nationalism in Nigerian politicsthe image of a dominant
mother gathering her children together forcefully conveyed the need for the
countrys fractious ethnicities to rally together under the protection of free
mother Nigeria. A symbolic representation of unity in Nigeria, Mother Nigeria predictably turned out to be a major attraction for the more than five hundred thousand visitors to the fair.
Bruce Onobrakpeyas mural consisted of fourteen large panels on the
covered way that connected the art pavilion to the craftsmens pavilion. Each
panel had an autonomous image; his style ranged from the realistic rendition of a butterfly in one panel to an abstract geometric image of a figure with
a long pipe in another. On the whole, the artists decorative program relied
on generous use of hard-edge geometric shapes, bold decorative patterns,
and schematically rendered forms, thus announcing Onobrakpeyas talent as
a superb illustrator. The multipanel mural depicted episodes from Urhobo
folktales (figure 4.5) but also included contemporary Benin and Urhobo personages and ceremonial events. For his part, Demas Nwoko, besides assisting
Okeke, executed his own mural (also helped by Okeke) at the crafts section of
the Arts and Crafts pavilion. Part of the composition, dealing with the theme
of Nigerian crafts, depicted four figures engaged in embroidery, leatherwork,
smithing, and welding.33 Like that of Okeke and Onobrakpeya, Nwokos work
was rendered in flat colors, but his palette and pictorial programconsisting
of dominant brilliant reds and white, his figures and major color areas marked
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Figure 4.5 Bruce Onobrakpeya, sketch for panel of his Covered Way mural (detail), gouache on
paper, 1960. Photo, the author. Bruce Onobrakpeya.
Figure 4.6 Demas Nwoko, mural, Arts and Crafts pavilion, Nigeria Exhibition, Lagos, 1960.
Reproduced from Nigeria 68 (March 1961), p. 31. Courtesy National Council for Arts and Culture,
Abuja. Demas Nwoko.
out with heavy white or dark linesresulted in the most dramatic and accomplished work of the group (figure 4.6). The refusal by the three artists
(least so with Onobrakpeya) to seek recourse to illustrating iconic, easily recognizable African/Nigerian art forms, amply evident in Enwonwus authentic African style, or to produce the kind of pictorial realism popularized by
Lasekan, Onabolu, and Enwonwu left no one in doubt about their desire to
inaugurate a new pictorial order, the authenticity of which depended not so
much on a literalist deployment of indigenous themes and pictorial symbols
as on its articulate deployment of modernist formal principles.34
The art exhibition drew forty-one participants, ranging from artists with
formal art school training to those who, as with traditional African artists,
had apprenticed with master sculptors. Of the first generation of Nigerian
artists, Akinola Lasekan showed his realistic portraits of Nigerians besides
his well-known Market Scene (National Gallery of Art, Lagos collection); J. D.
Akeredolu (19151984), the putative originator of thorn carving, small figures carved from thorns of the wild cotton tree (shown in the crafts section),
was represented by a wood sculpture, Mallam; and Lamidi Fakeye (1928
2009), a former student of the famed Yoruba sculptor George Bandele and
possibly the best-known graduate of Father Kevin Carrolls workshop at Oye-
Ekiti, exhibited six sculptures. Onabolu was surprisingly absent from the
exhibition.
Among Kenneth Murrays students, A. P. Umana (b. 1920), exhibited several paintings, as did Enwonwu, represented by older Murray-period work,
as well as more recent sculptures and paintings, including Head of Afi (ca.
1959), a bronze bust of the Lagos-based artist Afi Ekong (19302009; figure
4.7). Enwonwus putative rival on the Nigerian art scene, the sculptor Felix
Idubor (19281991), who was initially apprenticed to a Bini master carver
but later taught at Yaba Technical College, exhibited his own bronze Head of
a Woman, in addition to two other figures.35 Where Enwonwus Head of Afi
displays the artists mastery of academic portraiture, Idubors, with its highly
polished surface and almost impersonal features, is remarkably evocative of
early Benin court style.
Despite the fact that the exhibition ostensibly presented a wide-ranging
panorama of then modern Nigerian art, the sheer number of works by members of the Art Society group, in addition to their popular onsite murals,
provided them an enviable opportunity for national visibility. They garnered
considerable media attention in the form of interviews with Radio Nigeria
and a full-page Nigerian Daily Times feature on their murals and contributions to the exhibition, triumphantly titled big job for young artists,all
perhaps part of the scheme by Michael Crowder and his arts council cohort
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tive on a show of eclectic work ranging from the impressive to the mediocre. Like John Danford a decade before, Beier clearly saw the independence
show as the manifest beginning of a new phase in contemporary Nigerian
art, which consisted of artists of widely different backgrounds and ideas,
such as Lamidi Fakeye, who trained in a traditional Yoruba workshop, and
the classy Slade-educated Ben Enwonwu, whose work demonstrated all the
routine and all the ideas acquired by moving for years in the artistic circles
of Europe.37 In spite of his guarded enthusiasm for the work of the sculptors
Fakeye, Ovie Idah, Festus Idehen, and Osagie Osifo for their conscious and
sophisticated use of traditional forms, he concluded that the young Zaria
artists were the shows greatest revelation.38
In his usual telegraphic style, Beier framed his artists in the best possible light. Jimo Akolo, the coolest formalist among them, reflects in his
workhere the critic seems to invoke the colonial British stereotype of Muslim emirate candor, simply because the artist comes from a northern Yoruba
townthe cool, detached dignity of northern Nigeria; while stating that
Yusuf Grillo, the most technically advanced, has an inclination toward a
well-constructed compositional style suited for mural painting (figure 4.8).
Bruce Onobrakpeya, with his fertile pictorial imagination and fine sense
for the decorative, came through as a talented illustrator and experimental printmaker, whereas Simon Okeke, using a meticulous renaissance [sic]
technique, painted fascinating, weird, and mysterious figures distorted according to some hidden law we cannot fathom. These pictures, rather than
the ones in which the artist tried to depict, as Beier says, the pretty side of
life, have the same affective power as the artists apparently frequent horrific visions. Unsurprisingly, Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke, according to
Beier, produced the most important work in the show, partly because they
adapted formal qualities of Igbo sculptures in their work rather than directly
quote them, as did the less artistically accomplished and older Festus Idehen
and Osagie Osifo.39 Moreover, their work, unlike anything before it, is more
genuinely and more authentically Nigerian while it is at the same time far
more modern in approach. It is the finest monument to Nigerian Independence we could have wished for.40
Even if we grant Beier the privilege he claimed to subjectively assess the
Nigerian Art exhibition, we cannot ignore some of his more tendentious,
overdetermined declarations. Consider, for instance, his all-important concluding statement on the authenticity of the Zaria work. His analysis neither
explains the parameters of authenticity for Nigerian art or how Nwoko and
Okeke might have met them any more than, say, Idehen or Fakeye nor con-
147
vincingly makes a case for their supposedly more modern approach. Nevertheless, the Nigeria magazine review fits into Beiers larger critical project,
already begun in Black Orpheus with his Wenger, Souza, and Nwoko essays.
It shows Beier at the height of his advocacy for a new approach to modern art
that, until the emergence of the Zaria group, was either too nativist, as that
of Murrays students was, or, in the hands of Onabolu and his followers, too
naturalistically Victorian.
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to both the intellectual types and curious audiences and spectators from
the streets, the clubs programranging from sophisticated intellectual debates to popular events involving neighborhood participantsnot so much
resembled the legendary Parisian or Viennese avant-garde caf milieu, as
Gene Ulansky has suggested, as embodied the communalistic idea inherent
in the concepts of mbari and the market square.44 For the Igbo mbari, a village would appoint professional artists and amateurs to build, in seclusion,
the mbari monument in honor of Ala or some other powerful tutelary deity.
During the construction phase, the artists also spent time learning dances
to be performed at the public opening and dedication of the monument, an
occasion of great celebration by members of the commissioning village and
their guests.45 Mbari as a concept thus encompasses the material and visual
qualities of Igbo architecture, sculpture, and painting, along with the kinesthesia of the dance and ritual performances enacted during construction
and on the occasion of the public presentation of the project. Mbari also
connotes, as Herbert Cole has argued, the very process of accomplishing
these visual and theatrical forms; that is to say, mbari is the act of sculpting, building, painting, dancing, and singing in honor of the deity.46 In additionthis is quite importantmbari is a monument to collective artistic
imaginaries of the Owerri Igbo, a site for the paradoxical entanglements of
myths, experiences of colonial modernity, moral education, and erotic fantasies; indeed mbari is the sensate and metaphysical world invoked and enacted through word, action, image.47 Thus, in naming the club after Igbo
mbari, its core members clearly wished to situate their work, even if only
rhetorically and philosophically, within the paradigm of communal rather
than elitist art practice.
But there is another aspect to the invocation of Igbo mbari in the motivating ideas of the Mbari Ibadan: the subversion of generative tension between
individuality and collectivity with the context of the mbari. In the Igbo mbari,
for instance, the members of the commissioning community are described
as the creators of mbari, although the actual complex is designed and supervised by recognized master artists hired for their artistic reputation. It is,
then, not necessarily a denial of the creative imagination of master artist and
his cohort of sequestered community members selectively appointed to represent their families in the building process; rather, it is a reaffirmation of the
minority role of the individual within the cosmological network of phenomenological and metaphysical forces embodied by the community.
As if to announce their departure from the traditional Igbo model and to
establish the modernist basis of their practice on the occasional moments
Mbari International
The Mbari gallery gave Beier an opportunity to expand his curatorial work
and, with a circle of friends who served as art critics for the gallerys exhibitions, to articulate his vision of modernism with the work of artists he saw as
the new vanguard of the unfolding postcolonial order.49 With partial funding
from the Congress for Cultural Freedom, he embarked on an ambitious, unprecedented exhibition program, bringing to Nigeria for the first time significant artists from the rest of the continent, Europe, Asia, and the Americas.50 Mbari, in other words helped Beier consolidate his position as the most
influential figure in Nigerian art in the mid-twentieth century, even as the
gallery became the indisputable space where the international dimension of
postcolonial modernism became manifest.
The inaugural art exhibition at Mbari, a well-publicized joint show by
Uche Okeke and Demas Nwoko, opened on July 20, 1961, with the clubs
president, Ezekiel Mphahlele, and Dr. Onabamiro, the western regions minister of education, in attendance (figure 4.9).51 While this exhibition is important because it contributed to the rising national stature of Okeke and
Nwoko soon after their triumphant performance at the Nigerian Exhibition
during the independence celebrations in October 1960, my particular interest is in how it provided Beier the opportunity to lay out his artistic doctrine,
which I believe is fundamental to an understanding of the aesthetics and history of postcolonial modernism.
Beiers brief introduction in the exhibition brochure reiterated the arguments he had been making for Okeke and Nwoko: their rising fame even
while studying at Zaria, their campaign for modern Nigerian artists to come
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Figure 4.9 Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke at the opening of Mbari Ibadan inaugural art exhibition,
1961. In the center background, Uche Okekes Madonna and Child (1961). Reproduced from West
African Review 32, no. 408 (December 1961): 42.
to terms with the artistic traditions of their country, and the influence of
Igbo sculpture on their work. He also remarked on the distinctness of their
emerging personal styles, in spite of their very close friendship, and the considerable maturity they had attained since their first joint show in Ibadan a
year before. What we can take from Beiers text is this formulation of the new
art as a process of coming to terms with Nigerian art traditions but with the
kind of aesthetic distance that is the hallmark of the indisputably modern.
To emphasize the clubs international outlook, the next three exhibitions
at Mbari featured works by artists from outside Nigeria, which coincided
with the art program of Black Orpheus. Both simultaneously championed
the work of artists in Africa, Asia, South America, the United States, and
Europeartists at the forefront of defining modernisms inspired by the experience of colonization, racial discrimination, and the encounter between
Western modernity and indigenous cultures. In the years 19611963, the
finest time for the visual arts within Black Orpheus and the club, the gallery
hosted at least seventeen mostly one-person shows by Nigerian and international artists; several of them were also featured in Black Orpheus.
Art from Makerere, the first of three shows in 1961 after Okeke and
Nwokos inaugural exhibition, consisted of photographs of painting and
sculpture rather than original works. The exhibition, which opened in August 1961, featured artists associated with the art program at Makerere University College, Uganda. A one-person exhibition of work by the Dutch master printmaker Ru van Rossem, a professor of graphic arts at the art academy
in Tilburg, Holland, opened in October. In November the Sudanese artist
Ibrahim El Salahi became the first African artist to get a one-person show
at Mbari or any art gallery in Nigeria. Salahis exhibition proved to be the
most important of the three, not least because of Beiers belief that his work,
clearly more advanced than that of any Zaria artist, was exemplary of a rigorous and progressively modern art combining a deep reflection on African art
forms and a mastery of techniques of European modernists.52 Moreover, it
must have confirmed for Beier his sense that the new art coming out of Zaria
was part of a nascent international phenomenon, just as the literary work of
the Ibadan-trained writers was aligned with the postcolonial literary world
constituted by writing from former colonies in Africa and the Caribbean, as
well as from black America and Europe.
Beier had met Salahi and his colleaguesincluding Ahmed Shibrain,
who also showed at Mbari in 1963quite by chance. It began when Donald
Hope, an art educator at Zaria and coauthor of the memorandum criticizing
the effort by other faculty to introduce art history into the Zaria program
in 1962, advised Beier to visit the Guyanese artist and art historian Denis
Williams (19231998) in Khartoum, Sudan.53 Beier thus included Khartoum
in his 1961 continental tour, funded by a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Williams, in turn, introduced him to Salahi, Shibrain, and Kamala
Ibrahim (Ishag), who were to become key members of an emerging Old
Khartoum school based at the Khartoum Technical Institute.
Salahis Mbari exhibition, a rather modest affair, consisted solely of ink
drawings on paper, yet it turned out to be of historic importance and a
major influence on the work of some Nigerian artists, including Bruce Onobrakpeya and Obiora Udechukwu (b. 1946), a leading figure in the Nsukka
school that coalesced around the work of Uche Okeke in 1970 and after.54
Although seen by the rather limited number visitors who attended Mbari
exhibitions, Salahis work received wide circulation through two important
reviews by Beier in Black Orpheus and West African Review (war) and through
a small monograph published by the club after the first one, featuring Uche
Okeke. Salahis exhibition was also significant in that it expanded the normative geography of modern African art, which, perhaps reflecting a colonial-
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era paradigm, had separated into northern and so-called sub-Saharan African domains, a scenario that belied the network of political alliances forged
among African nationalists from all corners of the continent, especially after
the Bandung Conference in 1955. One might argue, in fact, that the international scope of Mbari and Black Orpheus depended singularly on Beiers
transnational network, which in turn devolved to the important relationships
cultivated by artists and writers across national borders beyond the Mbari
and Black Orpheus years.
In the Black Orpheus review of Salahis exhibition, Beier painted a picture
of an artistic genius emerging from a culturally and artistically arid area:
Great artists turn up in unexpected places. When going in search for new
African artists I was certainly not expecting to find one in Khartoum.55 The
Sudan, Beier proclaimed in obvious error, has no artistic tradition, except
Arabic calligraphy; Khartoum, with its alienated art school and without
modern art exhibition venues, seemed a most unlikely place to encounter an
artist who might be one of the most accomplished in Africa.56 According to
Beier, the artists work evolved from the unexciting academic portraits and
landscapes he painted while at the Slade School of Artforeign conventions Salahi later found meaninglessto a thrilling new work based on
his post-London experimentation with Arabic calligraphy. Beier thus argues,
as he had with the work of Okeke and Nwoko, that Salahis mature work
began with a tactical disavowal of his formal training at the Slade, followed
by research in and experimentation with indigenous Sudanese artistic forms
and ideas.
What Beier does not explain, however, are the factors responsible for the
radical transformation of Salahis work, particularly what his artistic choices
had to do with the reception of his work in Khartoum. Salahis training at the
Sladeat the time still led by Sir William Coldstreamexposed him to a
range of academic and modernist painting styles and resulted in work such
as Untitled (195457; figure 4.10); but upon returning to the newly independent Sudan in the late 1950s, he quickly abandoned the Slade work, turning instead to the gestural draftsmanship of Arabic calligraphy, the graphic
symbolism of Arabic texts, and African decorative design (figure 4.11). In
the work Salahi exhibited at Mbari, he had just begun to explore the graphic
poetry of Arabic calligraphy through an experimental process of deconstructing and reconfiguring calligraphic texts and notations and indigenous
Sudanese design patterns.57 This resulted in a graphic pictorial styleink
drawings in which the artist freely combined mystical abstractions, ritual
scripts, and enigmatic imagery into what one might call the graphic poetry
of Arabic calligraphy.
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We now know that the local reception given the Slade-period work in Salahis first exhibition in the Sudan turned out to be, for him, an unexpected,
transformative moment. Apparently shunned by a public committed to the
Islamic aniconic mandate, thus quietly opposed to his impertinent figural
style, and rankled by his own sense of alienation, Salahi spent the next two
years researching local folk art and Arabic calligraphy in order to develop
a new form and style acceptable to his audience. That is, had he been concerned only with his own aesthetic preferences or the internal logic of his
evolving style, he might not have rethought his work the way he did. In other
words, he discovered that his Slade-period work was meaningless to his audience, those with whom he earnestly needed to connect.
In reading Salahis work, Beier argues that the long-faced animal and
human figures that populate his pictures share allusive formal affinities
rather than direct stylistic similarities with West African Senufo masks; this
is what accounts for their profound Africanness. The artist had to descend
into his own African soul to retrieve the imagery in his pictures because he
could not find it in the Sudan, which Beier had described as an arid cultural
zone with few or no important artistic traditions. True, Salahis intensely personal figurative imagery has no formal antecedent in any Sudanese imagistic
traditions, not even the ancient Nubian figurative art. Several of the abstract
patterns occurring in his pictures, such as the ubiquitous checkerboard, were
directly borrowed from indigenous designs on craft objects. Thus Beiers assertion of Sudans poor artistic heritage discountenances ancient Nubian and
Arab calligraphy as valid constitutive elements of Sudanese arts. This is not
surprising, but it must be seen in the context of the then prevalent assumption that African art was more or less synonymous with its sculptural art,
which invariably led, as Beiers text demonstrates, to the perception of West
and central Africa, with their many traditions of figurative sculpture, as the
continents most artistically fertile zones.
In any case, Beier was fascinated by Salahis novel formal experimentation with Arabic calligraphy and folk art designs, his stunning mastery of
line and drawing, and his mystical symbolism. In the West African Review,
Beier notes that while the formal rhythm and sophisticated elegance of the
drawings derive from the letters of the Arabic alphabet, their pictorial integrity did not depend so much on the literal depiction of Arabic script, which
is nonetheless present as legible text, as on adapting the calligraphic flourish and structural principles of the script (figure 4.12).58 Combining these
elements with non-Arabic graphic patterns and designs extracted from local
baskets, mats, and gourds, Salahis works resulted in a perfect and success-
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Figure 4.12 Ibrahim El Salahi, Untitled, ink on paper, 1961. Image courtesy Iwalewa-Haus,
University of Bayreuth. Ibrahim El Salahi.
ful blending of cultures, thus accounting for the fact that the Sudan itself
is at the nexus of Arabic and non-Arabic African cultures. Soon after Beiers
Salahi essay, Denis Williamss Black Orpheus review of Salahis 1963 show at
the Galerie Lambert, Paris, pressed further, with greater critical sophistication than Beier, the conceptual implication of the confluence of Arabic and
African forms in Salahis work. His images, Williams notes,
are disclosed with the lyrical clarity of the Arabesque in lines that enclose
and release instinctively African myths. . . . His attitude is not that of the
magician, not mental, not that of a mind capitulating on the secrets of
nature. It is an argument with the myths of the ancestors: a subjection to
myth, a fervour that is nothing if not mystical.59
Besides Salahi and the Old Khartoum school artists, Beier sought out
other artists who soon became a part of the expanding Mbari international
network. At University College, Legon, in Ghana, where he saw Vincent
Kofis monumental wood sculptures, he decided thereupon to introduce
them to the Black Orpheus readership in 1961 prior to exhibition at the Mbari
gallery in 1962 (figure 4.13).60 The show of five of Kofis major sculptures
was quite popular, attracting considerable attention from the local community, particularly at Mbari-Mbayo in Osogbo, where the African American
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artist Jacob Lawrence (19172000) saw it during his first visit to Ibadan and
Osogbo in October 1962 (figure 4.14).
Writing about Kofis wood sculptures in Black Orpheus, Beier noted that
they radiate a certain rugged, untamed power, in part because of their characteristically solid, bulging forms and rough chisel work.61 His figurative
style, unlike the naturalistic sculptural style he learned and taught at the art
school, depended on dramatic distortions and the introduction of limited
interstitial spaces so that the compositions would retain the columnar form
of the logs from which they were carved (see figure 4.14). In Crucifixion (ca.
1960), for instance, Kofi depicted a tall figure with two short, paddle-shaped
hands raised above its head but without the cross. By fitting the crucified
figure into the narrow log form, eliminating Christs cross, he invented an
apocryphal crucifix. Rather than remind us of the biblical story of salvation,
Kofis heroic figure, tortured and burdened by some indecipherable, awesome force, expresses the universality of pain. It is perhaps for this reason
that Beier found this work both attractive and bewildering.62
At once heavy and archaic, Kofis early sculptures, in Beiers view, do not
readily evoke any specific African sculptural tradition and might as easily fit
into the modernist tradition of such sculptors as Constantin Brancusi and
Henry Moore. He argues that because Ghana has no great tradition in wood
carving, as have the Ivory Coast to the West of it and Nigeria to the East,
Ghana was a natural site for the emergence of one of the most gifted modern West African carvers.63 How might this be? Beier suggests that the lack
of great indigenous traditions in Ghana, sparing its modern sculptors both
the anxiety of influence and the burden of tradition, thereby afforded them
the freedom to create a new and original sculptural form:
Here [in Nigeria], our sculptors seem to be burdened by the heavy weight
of a great tradition. Some of our artists repeat feebler and watered down
versions of their forefathers work, [and] in their desperate desire to free
themselves, get lost in their attempt to adopt and digest European forms.
Only few have attained the originality and power of Vincent Akweti Kofi.64
Beiers argument, strikingly similar to the earlier one about Salahi and the
supposed cultural aridity of the Sudan, is silent on two important aspects
of Kofis work. First, leaving aside the claim that Ghana was not home to a
so-called great tradition of sculpture, such as those of Baule, Benin, Yoruba,
and Senufo, Kofi sought to anchor his determinedly modernist style to what
he called Ghanaian inspiration.65 That is to say, he was no less concerned
about the connection between his own work and Ghanaian/African artistic
traditions as any other modern artist anxious about the fraught relationship
Figure 4.13
Vincent Kofi at Mbari-
Mbayo, Osogbo, 1962.
Photo, Ulli Beier.
Estate of Ulli Beier.
Figure 4.14
Jacob Lawrence
with Vincent Kofis
Drummer, Mbari
Mbayo, Osogbo, 1962.
Photo, Ulli Beier.
Estate of Ulli Beier.
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Unlike Beier, Moore avoids insinuating Tibero as a model for West African artists. Nevertheless, the artist must have come across to Beier as a
progressive black artist, versed in the language of modernist painting yet
ideologically and spiritually committed to his African ancestry. Tiberos
opposition to abstraction and his adoption of a realist style informed by a
postcubist stylization and simplification of the human figure indicates, perhaps, that Beier was less against modernist realism as such than premodern,
pseudoacademic narrative illusionism.
Although most of the works shown at Mbari Ibadan or featured in Black
Orpheus were by academically trained artists, Beiers earlier interest in the art
of the mentally ill was part of his broader understanding of what constitutes
progressive art. Stressing originality of vision irrespective of the artists social
status, level of training, or formal style, he began thinking about the possibility of establishing an alternative space in which he could encourage artistic and theatrical productions outside the academic circles of Ibadan. Thus,
barely a year after the opening of Mbari Ibadan, a branch of the club opened
at Osogbo, a smaller, less urbanized Yoruba town northeast of Ibadan.
More popularly known as Mbari-Mbayo, the Mbari Club at Osogbo was
the brainchild of Duro Ladipo (19311978), a Yoruba actor who soon became
a celebrated Nigerian playwright and dramatist.70 Imagined by Beier as a
truly popular creative arena rather than the elitist space that, to his disappointment, Mbari Ibadan had become, Osogbo was to be primarily an experimental workshop for nurturing artistic talent, uninfluenced by Western
art and academic practices. Although Beier continued to promote the work
of formally trained artists, Mbari-Mbayo represented a facet of his artistic
philosophy that can be traced not to his dalliance with negritude and its invocation of the mythic pasts but to his longtime attraction to outsider art,
which to him represented truly original artistic creativity. Mbari-Mbayo thus
provided Beier with the opportunity to explore and expand these interests
without exciting the antagonism of his Mbari Ibadan colleagues.71 Its gallery often cohosted, with Mbari Ibadan, exhibitions of work by Nigerian and
international artists also featured in Black Orpheus.
During his tour of southern Africa in 1960, Beier met the Mozambican architect and painter Pancho Guedes (Amncio dAlpoim Guedes; b. 1925) and
his colleague, the South African architect Julian Beinart.72 Beier also met the
Mozambican painter and poet Malangatana Valente Ngwenya (19362011),
then a twenty-five-year-old whose artistic talent Guedes recognized and encouraged. Although Beinart (and Guedes) came to Ibadan to direct the first
summer art workshopmodeled after similar programs that Beinart had
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already established in Loureno Marques (Maputo)an exhibition of Malangatanas work did not materialize until June 1962 at Ibadan, from where
it traveled to Osogbo.73 Beinarts article on Malangatana, amplifying the arguments Beier had already made for the artists work in the exhibition brochure, appeared in Black Orpheus almost simultaneously.
Beinart noted that most black artists in the western native townships in
the Loureno Marques area, like their counterparts in Nigeria, as Beier argued, either thrive on corny postcard traditionalism or are enthralled by
European models. However, Malangatana was among the very few southern
African artists who had attained a personal synthesis of their own experience which [was] rooted deeply in an African past and at the same time exposed to the new contacts of a different cultural experience.74 Disconnected
from decorative folk art traditions of the townships, Malangatana invented a
personal style that combined his technical naivet with an ambitious, fertile,
and terrifying pictorial imagination (figure 4.15).
Described by Beinart as a brand of surrealism but without the intellectual games of European surrealism, Malangatanas work conjoins erotic fantasies, occult visions, and eschatological concerns.75 In Secret Voyage, one of
his earliest major paintings, a great long-haired nude and a strangely skeletal
figure dominate a landscape filled with disembodied eyes and heads, multicolored humanoid forms, and flowers. The palette is eclectic, the brushwork
unsure, the drawing loose, yet the artist seems to have been impelled by the
need to quickly and completely describe the myriad forms populating this
imaginary landscape. A true dream picture, according to Beinart, Secret
Voyage conveys the seamless oppressiveness of a terrible nightmare and enigmatic visions of a troubled mind. This and others of Malangatanas early
works, such as To the Clandestine Maternity Home (1961), left no doubt of his
unusual ability to invent pictorial compositions that powerfully articulate the
unpredictable outcomes of the clash of the postcolonial subjects multiple
religious, social, and political worlds (figure 4.16).
In his Black Orpheus article, Beinart reproduced several paragraphs from
Malangatanas unpublished autobiography that revealed his experiences as
the son of a migrant-worker father and a mentally disturbed, overprotective
mother. The excerpt narrates his childhood life of poverty in a family and
society where sorcery and militant Christianity coalesced, resulting, Beinart
invariably suggests, in the fantastic imagery the artist depicted in his canvases. By inserting the artists interesting autobiography in the middle of
his text, Beinart confirms Beiers assertion that the artist is full of stories;
more importantly, the artists own text frames the paintings within a bio-
Figure 4.15 Malangatana Ngwenya, Untitled, oil on canvas, 1961. Image courtesy Iwalewa-Haus,
University of Bayreuth. Fundao Malangatana Valente Ngwenya.
Figure 4.16 Malangatana Ngwenya, To the Clandestine Maternity Home, oil on canvas, 1961. Image courtesy Iwalewa-
Haus, University of Bayreuth. Fundao Malangatana Valente Ngwenya.
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before the dissolution of Die Brckeand 1923. It included such important works as Kneeling Woman (1914) and Girl before a Mirror (1914; figures
4.17 and 4.18). The latter depicts a naked woman with a disarticulated and
distinctively African masklike face standing before a mirror, her reflected
nude figure amplifying the erotic tenor of the composition. The anatomical
structure of Kneeling Woman, on the other hand, conveys a powerful presence despite the figures otherwise alluring pose. This formal quality arguably derives from the influence of African statuary, a possibility made more
concrete by the presence of what must be an African carved stool in the
background. The exhibition also included Melancholy (1914), The Sun! (1914),
Mother (1916), The Three Kings (1917), and Table of Contents for the J. B. Neumann Portfolio (1919).
Beiers introductory text in the exhibition brochure did not, as one might
expect, adopt the kind of polemical language evident in his critical work. He
did not, for instance, justify this show of work by a European modernist in
Nigeria, whose artists, as he argued repeatedly, needed proper redirection.
Rather, he more or less synopsized the radical aesthetic and politics of the
Die Brcke and Schmidt-Rottluff s place within the group. Die Brcke (the
Bridge) was formed by four architecture students, Fritz Bleyl, Erich Heckel,
Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, and Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, in Dresden in 1905. The
older members, including Emil Nolde, Edvard Munch, Cuno Amiet, and
others, joined later, yet the groups internal logic, according to Reinhold
Heller, demanded a new cohesion of individuals with a mutual identity in
the concept of youth.78 Nevertheless, Beiers analysis of Die Brcke is revealing, particularly in the way he frames it:
They wanted to take art seriously. [Max] Pechstein once said: Art is not a
game; it is a duty towards the nation, it is a public matter. They wanted
to shake off every type of academic routine. They believed in the absolute
supremacy of the artistic personality and rejected all traditional rules.
They were not interested in the imitation of nature. They were disinterested in the problems of space, proportion and perspective. Above
all they protested against middle-class aestheticism. They did not want to
paint pretty pictures, which could adorn the drawing rooms of well-to-do
citizens.79
It is hard to miss the point of Beiers argument, for its relevance to the
Nigerian situation is quite clear: The politics and aesthetic of Die Brcke supported his criticisms of the academic realism of Aina Onabolu and Akinola
Lasekan and the bourgeois lifestyle of Ben Enwonwu; it also provided a mod-
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ern art-historical basis for the nationalistic rhetoric and modernist aesthetic
of the Art Society and its generation of artists. Although he did not make the
point, the fact that Die Brcke itself was formed by a group of architecture
students protesting academic oversight and official exhibitions in Dresden
must have convinced him of the equally historical importance of the Art Society in the Nigerian context.80
Moreover, Beiers claim, that of all the Die Brcke artists Schmidt-Rottluff
was most directly influenced by African sculpture, reveals why he decided
on a show of his prints and not the more formally experimental works of
Erich Heckel or Max Pechstein. With Schmidt-Rottluff s prints it was easier
to demonstrate that African art had influenced the work of European artists,
thus making more forceful the argument he had advanced earlier with the
work of Susanne Wenger. If indeed African sculpture and Yoruba adire respectively influenced the formal experimentation of Schmidt-Rottluff and
Wenger, Beier seemed to say, then the Art Societys wish to turn to indigenous sculpture, mural art, and folktales for inspiration demonstrated their
connection to a very positively modernist sensibility.
In his Black Orpheus review of the Schmidt-Rottluff exhibition, Denis Williams provides further justifications for exhibiting the German expressionist at Mbari. Though he contrasts what he calls the logic and clarity of the
French and the clumsy and fumbling work of the German Die Brcke,
both movements, he argues, jettisoned the debris of nineteenth-century
art, opening possibilities for a vital and direct approach to pictorial communication never before witnessed in the art of Europe.81 For him, Die Brcke
searched for the ecstatic, the hieratic, as functions of reality crucially essential for the life of the imagination. In this quest, Schmidt-Rottluff, like other
members of Die Brcke, found it necessary to invent unambiguous plastic
and pictorial forms dissociated from customary cultural vocabularies. It is
for this reason, therefore, that the groups works, Williams implies, are of tremendous significance for African artists searching for new forms expressive
of the contemporary experience.
Beier and Williams thus propose Schmidt-Rottluffwhose work was exemplary of the European historical avant-gardes search for a new aesthetic
at a crucial point in Europes fast-evolving modern experienceas a model
for Africans who themselves were at an equally critical juncture in their cultural and political history. The fact, as Beier and Williams saw it, that the
Europeans realized their radical aesthetic through formal experimentation
with African and Oceanic art provided the ballast for two key arguments they
made for modern African art. First, because the German expressionists bor-
rowed from African sculpture in the process of defining European modernism, contemporary African artists might as well return to the original inspirational source to develop new formal solutions, not just subject matter, for
their own artistic problems. Second, in so doing, they lay claim to an international modernist heritage without relinquishing the uniquely African artistic identity resulting from their formal experiments. These considerations
further explain Beiers and Williamss reasons for championing the work of
some of the Art Society members, as well as those of Vincent Kofi, Ibrahim
El Salahi, and others, during this period.
Another major show at Mbari Ibadan was the exhibition of works by
Jacob Lawrence, who, along with the African American expressionist painter
William H. Johnson (19011970), was featured in Black Orpheus. Beier first
encountered Lawrences The Migration of the Negro series (1940/41) in the
1941 edition of Fortune magazine; he saw some of his other paintings in
the presentation of Cedric Dover (the author of American Negro Art) during the 1956 Sorbonne Congress of Black Writers and Artists. The opportunity to show the artists work in Nigeria came shortly after the 1960 independence celebrations, when the American Society of Art and Culture
(amsac) organized a major program in Lagos featuring poet and playwright
Langston Hughes, singers Nina Simone and Odetta, and other renowned
African American writers, performing artists, and musicians.82 The Jacob
Lawrence exhibition at Mbari, opened on November 1, 1962 by Nigerian historian Dr. K. O. Dike, principal of the University College, Ibadan, was organized by Beier in collaboration with amsac.83 In addition to Lawrences Migration series, the exhibition featured his War series (1946/47; figures 4.19
and 4.20).
In his brief introduction in the exhibition invitation, Beier remarked on
the qualities that made Lawrence an outstanding painter:
Jacob Lawrence has said that painting is like handwriting. And indeed
his own work is as private and personal as a mans handwriting is. Completely unconcerned with fashionable artistic movements and isms,
Jacob Lawrence tells the story of his people. Only an artist who is very
mature, and sure of what he is after, could continue to tell stories in a time
when abstract expressionism is the great fashion and when the word literary has become a term of abuse in the fashionable art world.84
Although Beier found attractive both Lawrences penchant for telling the
untold story of his people in pictures and his rejection of the then fashionable, introverted abstract expressionist mode, he also notes that the artists
169
work was not merely illustrative. Rather than appear in a mimetic, naturalistic style, the severely distorted and gesturing figures, in the tradition
of modernist painting, powerfully convey human suffering. Writing about
Lawrence and William H. Johnson in Black Orpheus, Beier further notes Lawrences mastery of the rigorously composed pictorial space, as well as the fact
that his paintings seem constructed and built up according to very severe
laws of pattern.85 These personal compositional codes, from which the artist
has developed a unique style, facilitate his mastery of expression as gesture.
Thus, his paintings, Beier argues, are highly moving, powerfully expressive,
andcontrary to Cedric Dovers suggestion, in his book American Negro Art
(1960), that they required extended captionscommunicate visually the
essence of their subject matter by means of gesture.86
Jacob Lawrences Nigerian visit was brief, lasting only ten days.87 However,
he had seen enough of Yoruba culture and enjoyed the cultural atmosphere,
particularly at Osogbo, to make him wish for a longer visit in order to steep
myself in Nigerian culture so that my paintings, if I am fortunate, might
show the influence of the great African artistic tradition.88 Two years later,
he returned to Nigeria with his wife, Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence, after several failed attempts to get approval from the US government.89 During this
eight-month second visit to Nigeria, the Lawrences stayed on the top floor of
Ulli Beiers residence at 41 Ibokun Road, Osogbo. There, Lawrence painted
at least eight temperas, in addition to doing several drawings, which he exhibited at Mbari Ibadan in October 1964.90 In the artists statement, printed
on the exhibition invitation, Lawrence said:
Two years ago in November 1962 I was invited to have an exhibition in
Nigeria; an honor accorded me by the American Society of Art and Culture and the Mbari Club of Artists and Writers. It was my first visit to
Nigeriaindeed my first visit to the Continent of Africa. As a painter the
visit to a country which has made so great a contribution to modern art
was an experience of great value. As an American Negro I had looked forward to this experience with excitement and curiosity. The visit in 1962
was so stimulating, visually and emotionally, that I have returned to paint
my impressions of Nigeria. I hope sincerely that these paintings are a social statement of some value.91
While we are unsure what Lawrence might have meant by the expectation
that his Mbari paintings constitute a social statement of some value, his
intention to transpose resources from African artistic traditions into a contemporary artistic language reminds us of a similar aspiration of the Art
171
Chapter 4
172
Figure 4.21 Jacob Lawrence, Street to Mbari, tempera, gouache, and graphite on paper, 1964.
Photo: National Gallery of Art. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. James T. Dyke 1993.18.1. ars, NY.
Figure 4.22 Jacob Lawrence, Four Sheep, tempera and gouache on paper, 1964. Private collection.
Photo: The Jacob and Gwendolyn Lawrence Foundation / Art Resource, NY. ars, NY.
Figure 4.23 Ahmed Shibrain, Calligraphy, ink on paper, ca. 1962. Image courtesy of
Iwalewa-Haus, University of Bayreuth. Ahmed Shibrain.
mentation, says Williams, are now being strained by these new artists to encompass on one hand the findings of contemporary plastics and on the other
to reflect something of the dynamic or modern African thought.94 Asserting the pivotal role of Shibrain and Salahi in the group that was on the way
to becoming a Khartoum school, Williams claims that this nascent school
constitutes the most formidable body of talent to be found anywhere . . . on
the African continent today.95 Let us note in passing, the crucial difference
in Williamss and Beiers understanding and valuation of artistic tradition
within the Sudanese context. Whereas Beier saw Sudan as a culturally arid
region, because it did not have the familiar sculptural traditions that had
come to represent African art, Williams, perhaps more conversant with the
high status of calligraphy in Arab aesthetics, regarded this particular form
as equal to sculpture in West Africa and thus with comparable influence on
modern Arab artists.
Although Shibrains work is based on the tradition of solar wood engraving prevalent in Sudan, he creates visually impressive textual characters by
reducing forms to their fundamental structures, with emphasis on the contrast between heavy and thin lines and the dynamic tension between negative
and positive spaces. In these drawings the gracefulness of Islamic arabesques
is animated by the confident expressiveness of an artist for whom the abstraction inherent in Arabic calligraphy provides the opportunity to explore the
graphic possibilities of pure form. In strictly formal terms, Williams suggests, the drawings that Shibrain showed at Mbari come closest to the work
of the lyrical abstract French painter Hans Hartung.96
Whereas Beiers and Williamss art criticism is determined to chaperone
the new African or black modernist work, Louise Achesons critical introductory essay to Skunder Boghossians work concentrates mostly on the artists
subject matter and avoids making big claims for the work. Noting recurring images of birds, insectlike forms, skeletal figures, and eggs, she suggests they result from the artists exploration of a new brand of surrealism
in the service of his Afro-Metaphysics.97 In this metaphysical cosmos, the
artists work from this period shows, life turns to death, to rebirth, and to
life again in an endless cycle (figure 4.24). Significantly, Acheson argues
that Boghossians formal inventions owe more to the influence of African
art and Western technique than by Coptic [sic] art of Ethiopia; although in
certain paintings some decorative motifs and formal structures are Byzantine in feeling.98
Achesons reading of Boghossian is, at the very least, most curious, for two
reasons. The first is that it assumes, quite wrongly I think, that what she calls
175
Figure 4.24 Skunder Boghossian, Jujus Wedding, tempera and metallic paint on cut and torn
cardboard, 1964. Blanchette Hooker Rockefeller Fund, The Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Digital Image The Museum of Modern Art / Licensed by scala / Art Resource, NY Estate
of Skunder Boghossian.
African art is foreign to Ethiopia and that Christian Orthodox artistic traditions are synonymous with Ethiopian art, especially given that Boghossians
early painting, as Solomon Deresa has rightly pointed out, was influenced
by Konso and Oromo funerary sculpture.99 Second, Achesons interpretation precludes the obvious influence of the painting and ornamental design
traditions of Ethiopian Christian art on Boghossians use of dense, circular,
or dotted marks to enrich parts of his canvasesa trend that began sometime in 1962 and became increasingly inalienable in subsequent years. As
a student in Paris, Boghossian had come under the influence of negritudes
call for the recuperation of black subjectivity and in due course encountered
the paintings of the Chilean surrealist painter Roberto Matta and the Cuban
painter Wifredo Lam, which profoundly affected him.100 An artist of stupendous eclecticism, Boghossian was also attracted to the cosmogonies and my-
thologies of the Dogon peoples of West Africa and the metaphysical realism
of the Nigerian writer Amos Tutuolas novels; taken together, they account
for the pictorial complexity and compositional splendor of his masterpiece,
Night Flight of Dread and Delight (1964; figure 4.25). In any case, it is indeed quite likely that Beier recognized this enigmatic rather than literalist
conjunction of surrealist imagery, Ethiopian Christian ornamentation, and
Oromo funerary sculpture in Boghossian, for that would place him squarely
in the league of Salahi and Kofi, two exemplary Africans developing an aesthetic resulting from a combination of formal aspects of European modernism and indigenous African art.
Similarly, the work of Agnaldo dos Santos seems to have recommended
itself to Beier for its evocation of an African feeling, not from any direct relationship with a particular tradition of sculpture in Africa, except perhaps
that of the Nguni of South Africa. Beier met dos Santos, a former apprentice
to the renowned Brazilian modern sculptor Mrio Cravo (b. 1923), during a
1962 tour of Bahia and Recife, Brazil. Of African descent, dos Santos made
work with a certain African feeling about it, as Beier described it, despite
the fact that he was barely familiar with African-based religious practices and
had little or no knowledge of African sculpture.
Dos Santos made wood sculpture singed and polished to a black sheen;
but his expressive forms evoke African sculpture no more than they evoke,
say, Mexcala-style figures from the post-Olmec culture in Mexico. The unmistakably archaic quality of his figures, such as Nun (1950s1960s; figure
4.26), without parallel in modern sculpture, is due in part to his surface
treatment but also to the compactness of his figures. Like an ancient carver
working with crude tools, he seems unwilling to do more than define the
basic anatomical features, presumably because of some ritual imperative
(figure 4.27). In this narrow sense dos Santoss work might be said to induce
an African feeling; that is, if we are willing to suppose that religious and
ritual needs, as earlier European modernists assumed, determined form in
African sculpture.
Conclusion
The fortunes of Black Orpheus and Mbari Ibadan differed, as did their longevity and overall impact and reach. Mbari Ibadan had considerably lost its
original verve after 1964; by that time many of Beiers early collaborators at
Ibadan had dispersed or moved on. The journal survived under Beiers direction for ten years, before its quick decline after the twenty-second number
17 7
Figure 4.25 Skunder Boghossian, Night Flight of Dread and Delight, oil on canvas with collage,
1964. North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh. Purchased with funds from the North Carolina State
Art Society (Robert F. Phifer Bequest), 98.6. Estate of Skunder Boghossian.
181
Chapter 5
AFTER Z ARIA
IN CHAPTER 4 I EXAMINED the role of Black Orpheus and Mbari Ibadan in the
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capacious archive of the modernist heritage from which their new work derived some of its technical and formal protocols. To be sure, I do not claim
natural synthesis to be the singular force motivating this new work. Rather,
I suggest that the underlying idea, that individual artists had the freedom to
negotiate their relationship with inherited and appropriated artistic sources,
remained paramount even as those artists, unfettered by the strictures of
the academy and the demands of the curriculum, began to assert individual
preferences. They did so in terms of media and themes and how they positioned themselves and their work in the context of the discursive spaces of
the evolving modern art scene.
This chapter is important to this books larger narrative for two reasons.
First, a close reading of key moments in the unfolding work of leading members of the Art Society, as presented here, shows how stylistically different
this work is from that of their predecessors. Second, by demonstrating the
stylistic diversity within the work of this small group of like-minded artists,
this chapter foregrounds a crucial argument: that it is impossible to reduce
postcolonial modernism in Nigeria to a given set of formal tactics; that is to
say, a national style.
On completion of their final year of work at Zaria in June 1961, Uche Okeke
and Demas Nwoko spent some time in Ibadan, where, as part of the inaugural events of the Mbari Club, they had a joint exhibition of their work; as
a focal point, Okeke painted a large mural inside the Mbari courtyard. To
Okeke and Nwoko, the prospects of a career as practicing artists seemed attractive and feasible, especially when, in their final year as students, the visiting German ambassador, Count von Posadowsky, impressed by their work,
announced the award of a travel scholarship to each of them to live and work
in Germany. Thus, after the Mbari exhibition, Okeke began preparations
for his trip to Germany, while Nwoko, having already received a scholarship
from the French embassy, made arrangements of his own travel to France.
Germany was especially attractive to Okeke, for he had developed a keen
interest in the Weimer-era Bauhaus schools and wished to establish a similar institution in Nigeria. As he imagined it, this Bauhaus-inspired research
center and museum, to be sited in his ancestral hometown of Nimo, would
be dedicated to the working out of new African Art-Culture, providing
artist-teachers, artisans, and students space for theoretical and practical experiments with old and new methods and materials.1 The trip to Germany
After Zaria
185
Figure 5.1 Uche Okeke, mural at the courtyard, Mbari Ibadan, 1961. Reproduced from West African
Review 32, no. 408 (December 1961): 42. Uche Okeke.
was therefore a crucial step toward transforming his modest cultural center,
established in Kafanchan with a growing art collection and library in 1959,
into a major national, privately run institution.
While his travel documents were being processed, Okeke lived in the
Abule-Oja suburb of Lagos, where he began a series of experimental drawings inspired by Igbo Uli, a purely decorative form of traditional body drawing and mural painting in eastern Nigeria. The direct impetus seems to have
been the designs he made for his cousin, a metal-gate fabricator, in which
the main motifs were spiral forms reminiscent of those found in Uli art.
The project seems to have reawakened in Okeke his earlier interest in this
art form and triggered an impulse to go beyond the tentative engagement
with its pictorial possibilities suggested by his late-Zaria-period painting
Ana Mmuo (see ch. 3, figure 3.11) and the mural he did for the courtyard at
Mbari Ibadan (figure 5.1).
The mural, painted on two walls of the interior courtyard (often used for
theatrical performances), consisted of flat, organic, abstract shapes similar
to the ones he had used in Ana Mmuo. However, while the earlier work combines black, linear forms with bold shapes of color, the mural featured amorphous shapes of black and Indian red that seem to float, unanchored, like
aquatic organisms across the blank wall space. Recognizing the novelty of
Okekes style, the critic Dennis Duerden speculated that these forms might
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be human figures or leaves blown in the wind, or birds, but they are dancing
and floating, mysterious and compulsive and very distinctive.2 Nevertheless,
the mural figures appear to be variants of the flat shapes bounded by black
lines that Okeke painted in Ana Mmuo, except that the empty spaces within
the lines in the earlier work have now been filled in with solid black or red.
But where the connection between the formal qualities of Igbo Uli art and
those of the Mbari Ibadan mural and Ana Mmuo is tentative, the Uli provenance of his drawings from late 1961 onward are decisive and unmistakable.
A brief outline of the main aesthetic principles and forms of Igbo Uli is necessary for an appreciation of Okekes post-1961 pictorial experiments and the
extent to which this new work announced the realization of his own interpretation of the theory of natural synthesis.
Among the Igbo of eastern Nigeria, Uli artists, who were exclusively
female, relied on an extensive lexicon of motifs that differ in form and meaning from one Igbo community to another, though several motifs were more
widely distributed. A considerable number of motifs were abstractions based
on natural formslocal flora and fauna, celestial bodiesand man-made
objects. These range from what Obiora Udechukwu has called archetypal
shapessuch as the ntup (dot), akala (line), isinwaji (curvilinear triangles
and rectangles), and oloma or nwa (circles and crescents)to more complex
motifs derived from them, including agwlagw (the concentric coil associated with the sacred python, prevalent in Igbo metal gate designs) and mb
agu (the double triangle representing the leopards claw).3 These motifs were
usually deployed on the wall or the human body in compositional schemes
determined strictly by individual stylistic predilections rather than in accordance with any communally sanctioned system or any relation to their symbolism or meaning. Although the matrices, techniques, and pigments are
different for body drawing and wall painting, the design principles and motifs are similar. But whereas body painters make use of just one pigment,
also called Ulia clear liquid from certain plants that oxidizes into a dark
ink and fades after several daysmural painters have a palette of two to
four colors made from natural sources.4 For his work Okeke focused on the
body art, relying on its most salient formal characteristics: primacy of the
line, simplification of otherwise complex forms, and what one might call
the poetic balance of negative and positive space (figures 5.25.5).
Signs of Life, an undated series of drawings produced between late 1961
and early 1962, clearly gives a sense of how Okeke approached his new work.
While he interspersed bold motifs with lines that typically end in spiral agwolagwo motifs, suggesting an attempt to deviate from traditional conventions,
Figure 5.3 Uli mural, Nsugbe, Anambra State, 1994. Photo, the author.
After Zaria
the Uli motifs and designs remain unchanged from the indigenous prototypes. The result is that these drawings lack the spatial poetics of traditional
Uli. Thus it is fair to speculate that in the Signs of Life series, Okeke was
simply trying out pictorial possibilities by juxtaposing motifs drawn directly
from the Uli corpus. Put differently, his primary interest was in familiarizing
himself with the motifs and their behavior in diverse spatial contexts before
mobilizing them to perform more complex pictorial tasks.
In 1962 Okeke made From the Wild Regiona set of three drawings with
borders reminiscent of the Uli drawings collected in the 1930s and now at
Oxford Universitys Pitt Rivers Museumand the Oja Suite, his first major
Uli-inspired series, named after the Abule-Oja neighborhood in Lagos. Typical of the Oja Suite drawings is From the Forest, depicting a shrub growing
along a vertical axis on the left side of the composition, while similar linear
forms suggesting a forest background occupy the rest of the picture plane
(figure 5.6). The image resembles a very shallow depth-of-field photograph of
a tendriliferous plant in a forest, yet the lines are crisp and elemental. That
they are spontaneous, gestural marks requiring acutely coordinated mental
process and rapid hand movement is attested to by the effortless manner in
which single lines negotiate various paths, at times angular, at other times
curvilinear. In Head of a Girl, a straight vertical line runs from high up on
her forehead down to the nostrils, which are merely indicated by a corrugated
M- or W-shaped line (figure 5.7). This line, broken below the nostrils, ends in
an agwlagw mark, which represents the mouth. Crossing this vertical midline are two horizontal ones marking either the upper eyelid on the left or the
eyebrow on the right. As with the mouth, the same agwlagw motif, representing her bundled or curly hair, suggests the eyes and pupils in one single
gesture. Even the many other short gestural lines tend to end in spirals, as
though several autonomous centripetal forces pull the lines toward the center as soon as they emerge. It is also as ifwhen one imagines the drawing
processthe artists pen was dancing on the paper, leaving the drawing as
an index of that activity. This reading is apparently not entirely far-fetched:
Okeke has himself made a connection between dance and Uli, in that both
the artists hand and the dancers movement are lyrical gestures.5 It might
seem like a small point, but the use of the spiral motif in this work, as well
as in many others in the Oja Suite, is in fact a key aspect of what I want to
call Okekes system.
This system is most evident in another quite remarkable drawing from
1962 (figure 5.8). In it, we initially see vertical lines broken into long and
short linear marks. Between some of them are high-density zigzag marks,
189
Figure 5.8 Uche Okeke, Owls, ink on paper, 1962. The Newark Museum, Gift of Simon Ottenberg, tr91.2012.38.42.
Uche Okeke.
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some of which end in spirals. These are mostly in the lower part of the picture and at the top corners. In the top right area especially, we see bolder
marks, suggestive of dense foliage. On top of these is a large spiral at the apex
of a triangular formation of spirals, four of which are placed diagonally on
the picture plane. Between the two sets of spirals are marks reminiscent of
kala isinwaji motifs, and around all of these are concave lines breaking up
the vertical ones. Once we realize that the title of this drawing is Owls it all
begins to make sense: the two sets of lower spirals are pairs of eyes belonging to two owls, the kala isinwaji being their vastly exaggerated beaks, while
the moon hovers above them. Whereas in Head of a Girl the spiral form signifies the hair, eyes, and mouth, in Owls, it signifies (birds) eyes and the moon.
In other words, with just one graphic gesture, the artist represents human,
animal, and cosmic forms. Thus there is a conscious decision on Okekes
part to invent new ways of seeing and representing not only the folktales he
collected but also genre subjects. Indeed, this system of notation in its very
extreme tends to become somewhat abstract, as is the case with some of the
works he produced during his residency at the Franz Meyer Studios, Munich,
in 1962 and 1963.
The Munich Suite drawings include a few head portraits, such as Munich Girl, which presents another clear case of the polysemic power of the
spiral form (figure 5.9). The eye on the right is unambiguously present, or
so it seems, for the spiral mark that asserts its presence is, really, a lock of
hair hanging down her forehead and ending in a curly bang. Perhaps testifying to the precariousness of this signifying gesture, the viewer has a hard
time differentiating the left eye from what might be a long strand of hair
that seems to hang over the eye, ending abruptly. Other Munich Suite ink
drawings continue these visual tropes, modified only by the unique graphic
qualities of brush and ink (compared to pen or charcoal). Thus, whereas in
Munich Girl the lines glide effortlessly across the picture plane, defining the
subjects curly hair and frilly dress in linear detail, in Birds and Girl with
Flowing Hair there is a struggle to force the liquid lines into curvatures-that-
refuse-to-be-spirals and to tame the ink-loaded brush well enough to negotiate without breaking subtle curvatures and spirals. It seems, nevertheless,
that what Okeke has done in all these drawings is confront us with the polysemic potential, actually the emptiness, of the motifs/signs. They do not
carry meaning in themselves; instead, the context fulfills their signifying
task. This is the ultimate lesson of the Oja and Munich suites.
My argument for the instability of the spiral form in Okekes work draws
from the research and writing of Rosalind Krauss and, more pertinently,
Figure 5.9
Uche Okeke,
Munich Girl, charcoal
on paper, 1962.
Reproduced from
Art in Development:
A Nigerian Perspective
(1982), p. ix. Uche
Okeke.
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194
is the second phase, which he defined as the search for a unitary system
of notation. Within this phase, says Bois, is the first of two periods during
which, as in the artists Three Women (1907/8), the same geometric sign, the
triangle, is used over and over with a different semantic function, each time
determined by its context.7
This unitary system of notation to which Bois refers is evident, as we
have seen, in Okekes use of one icon, the agwlagw spiral, which in Uli
represents the coiled python but which acquires a polysemic potency in
Okekes drawings. While the spiral form serves a unifying purposeafter
all, it seems as though every line aims at ending up a spiral or a segment
of itits referents are not static; its meaning depends entirely on the other
lines, motifs, or spaces to which it relates.
Yet the polysemy insinuated by Okekes drawings is culturally motivated;
this is evident in their connection to Uli spatial program. The compositions
depend on a key formal characteristic of Uli: the dynamic and poetic use of
negative and positive space to organize the picture plane constituted by the
body or the wall. Chike Aniakor eloquently captures some of this when he
argues that
In uli, the line dances, spirals into diverse shapes, elongates, attenuates,
thickens, swells and slides, thins and fades out from a slick point, leaving
an empty space that sustains it with mute echoes by which silence is part
of the sound. . . . At other times, the line is a sweeping curvilinear shape
with dotted edges powered by rhythmic echoes of negative spaces.8
In other words, the motifs engage their surrounding space in a dialogic and dialectical conversation, thereby turning empty space into zones
of silence that amplify the positive spaces defined by motifs and outlined
forms. For this reason, Uli body artists are sensitive to what constitutes appropriate designs for each human canvas. They will, as Cole and Aniakor
have noted, amplify a thin girl with bold patterns and modify corpulence
with delicate ones.9
I want to suggest that this same principle is evident in Okekes drawings
of 1962, where, for instance, the intervening spaces between the brief notations of plant/zoomorphic forms play an active rather than a passive role
in our experience of the plants/animals or figures. They do not constitute a
background; rather they are the mute echoes by which silence is part of the
sound of which Aniakor speaks. In a way, the empty space seems willing
and ready to lift or clear like a mist, revealing more of the forms it covers
or holds back. This deferred possibility is what makes it an active yet nega-
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196
thereby merging it with the ground from which it always projected, Okekes
drawing participated in what might be called the dialectics of figure and
ground. That is, in these drawings, neither the figure nor the ground, the
positive or negative form/space, subdues the other; instead, they hold off and
sustain each other in a visual symbiosis.
Okekes 1962 and 1963 drawings, therefore, are crucial not so much for
formal inventiveness as for heralding what must be seen as the ultimate
artistic implication of the idea of natural synthesis. For it is here that he successfully and rigorously examines and exploits the formal potential of an indigenous art form, based on a sensibility that comes from his internalization
of the experimental approach to image making typical of twentieth-century
modernism. Unlike his Zaria paintings, in which he adapted figural qualities
of Igbo sculpture in a rather illustrative, albeit inventive, manner, his post-
Zaria work relies on a sustained inquiry into the principle of design, as well
as the conceptual parameters of a specific, traditional art form, Uli body art.
Given this premise, what does one make of Ulli Beiers assertion in 1968 that
[Okeke] was less interested in adapting certain forms of traditional African
art. To him it was of vital importance for the artist to study and understand
the content of African art?11 To be sure, Beier rightly notes Okekes deep
interest in Igbo folklore, which furnished the themes for many of his works.
But he apparently did not recognize the significance of the change that occurred in the artists work after 1962. Beiers statement flies in the face of the
decisive role Igbo Uli played in Okekes reconstitution of his formal style, an
experience crucial to understanding the artists vision of postcolonial modern art and his place in it.
As Okeke did before leaving for Germany, Demas Nwoko executed a large
mural, The Gift of Talents (1961), in Tedder Hall at the University of Ibadan
before he left for Paris in late 1961 for a nine-month course in scenography
and fresco painting. Where Okekes mural marked the beginning of a decisive break with his Zaria-period work, Nwokos articulated a figural style inspired by Igbo sculpture but with a palette and color attitude still redolent of
postimpressionist painting (figure 5.11).
Unlike the resolutely abstract composition of Okekes Mbari mural, the
main feature of The Gift of Talents is a dark, deific female form distributing
stringed beads to her wards, who are represented in two horizontal registers: at the top, smaller figures try out their ornaments; the lower register
shows seminaked figures already donning their beads, as well as naked ones
Figure 5.11 Demas Nwoko, The Gift of Talents, mural, Tedder Hall, University of Ibadan, 1962. Photo,
Obiora Udechukwu. Demas Nwoko.
reaching for theirs. Although the theme has biblical originsthe Parable of
the Talents in the Gospel according to Saint Matthew (25:1430)Nwoko
locates the scene in an imaginary Igbo world by replacing the male master in
the biblical story with Ana, the Igbo earth goddess. Crucially, the disfigured
facial anatomies, the schematically rendered trees at the flanks, and the surrounding flora, as well as the palette, are reminiscent of his earlier work. So
rather than mark a rupture in style, the mural connects Nwokos Zaria work
with his evolving 1960s painting and sculpture.
In France, Nwoko designed the stage set for Mozarts opera Die Entfhrung aus dem Serail during the Thtre Lyriques annual summer school at
Vichy. This was his second major stage design, after the one he did for Wole
Soyinkas A Dance of the Forest in October 1960. He also had a well-received
joint exhibition with Uche Okeke at the now defunct Galerie Lambert, Paris
(May 1962).12 The trip to France, followed in 1963 by another short-term
study of theater design in Japan, hastened the shift of Nwokos focus from
painting and sculpture to theater design and finally to architecture from the
late 1960s onward. Nevertheless, in Paris he produced an important set of
five paintings, the Adam and Eve series (1962), in which his early mature
style became apparent.
Nwokos Adam and Eve ostensibly refers to the biblical first couple, but
they also quite pertinently signify the principle of dynamic duality implied
by the aphorism ife kwulu ife akwudebe ya (when something stands, something else stands beside it), a concept discussed in this books introduction.
They also draw on Igbo sculptural representation of the primordial or ancestral couple, which is a recurrent form in African sculpture. Specifically,
Igbo sculptors made male and female pairs of tutelary figures, usually kept
in family or communal shrines. These wood figures, to which the living give
votive offerings, often stand frontally, palms facing up, perpetually ready to
receive ritual gifts, their columnar legs ending in fat, stunted feet with barely
defined toes (figure 5.12). Nwoko mixes some of these elements with Western iconography in his Adam and Eve paintings and sculptures.
Nwokos series, four of which are now lost, consisted of two paintings depicting a modern European couple in an urban setting (figure 5.13) and three
other paintings of a naked couple set within a primordial, tropical, Eden. The
first two, based on Nwokos observation of Parisian life; one shows an elderly
couple in winter clothing clutching each others waist and facing the viewer
with severe expressions. The woman holds a tiny dog, wearing what must
be protective body covering, by a short leash. Because Nwoko came from a
198
Figure 5.13 Demas Nwoko, Adam and Eve, oil on canvas, 1962. Artists Collection. Photo, the author. Demas Nwoko.
culture in which elderly people often enjoyed the company of their extended
families, the sight of a lonely couple and their dog, as the picture conveys,
seemed pathetic and ridiculous to him. Nevertheless, the transformation of
quotidian scenes into a simultaneously comic and serious commentary on
the human condition, the smooth brushwork, the use of complementary
colors, the caricatured facial features, and the densely packed composition
are all holdovers from his late-Zaria painting.
In the other three paintings, Nwoko has transformed the male and female
figures in The Gift of Talentsthe two in white skirts, their backs turned to
the viewerinto an Adam and Eve couple. There are familiar codes from the
biblical story: paradisiacal conviviality of bird, man, and beast in one panel,
and the postexpulsion story of lost innocence and existential hardship for
the biblical first couple in another (figure 5.14). The lushness of the flora
After Zaria
in the one canvas and the withered thorny vegetation in the other, with the
contrasting expressions of satisfaction and apocalyptic guilt on the faces of
the couple, further amplify the tragic implications of that primordial act of
disobedience. In what should be the second of the three pictures, however,
Nwoko shows Eve bathing in a brook while Adam, attracted perhaps by her
nakedness, spies on her. This apocryphal scene reminds us of his Bathing
Women (1961; see ch. 3, figure 3.17) and thus conflates the biblical story with
what might be autobiographical narrative.
Back in Nigeria in 1963, Nwoko joined the theater arts faculty at the University of Ibadan, producing sets and costumes for Mbari Ibadan plays. That
same year, he produced an important wood sculpture, Adam and Eve, in
which he translates into three dimensions the figural style based on Igbo
sculpture he had already explored in his Tedder Hall mural and Paris paintings (figure 5.15). Despite the fact that Adam and Eve and another carved
figure, the seated Philosopher, also of 1963, held the promise of a new sculptural style based on a structural analysis of Igbo wood sculpture, the style of
the two works indicates that Nwoko imagined traditional sculpture not as a
model to be faithfully quoted but, as with Okeke, as a basis for developing a
distinctly personal, modernist style.
Building on the lessons of the 1963 wood sculptures, in 1964 Nwoko
began to work on a stylistically coherent, rigorously focused body of work:
terra-cotta sculpture inspired by ancient Nok figuressub-Saharas oldest
sculptures, produced by Iron Age cultures from northern Nigeria. The significance of this work is twofold. First, it marked the culmination of his
formal examination of his relationship with indigenous Nigerian artistic traditions (as it happened, it was his last important series as a fine artist).13 Its
intensity and experimental rigor not only matches Okekes work based on
Uli; it also testifies to their shared ideas about the role of specific indigenous
art forms in the emergence of postcolonial modernism. Second, in looking
beyond his native Igbo culture for an inspirational source, he announced his
divergence from Okekes and other Art Society artists ideas about ethnicity
and artistic modernism in postindependence Nigeria. To appreciate the extent of Nwokos achievement with his terra-cotta sculptures, let us consider
briefly what ancient Nok art had to do with his work.
Classic-style Nok figures have large cylindrical heads, triangular or semicircular eyes with prominent perforated pupils, tubular torsos and limbs,
and minimally defined, stumpy hands and feet (figure 5.16). Even in their
weathered state, these ancient figures, dating from around 500 bce to about
200 ce, are modeled with impressive coiffures and headdresses, armbands,
201
Figure 5.16
Head, classical
style, Nok culture,
terra-cotta, ca.
400 bce200 ce.
Photo Corbis.
and neck and waist beads. Although Nok figures are relatively small, the size
of certain heads and fragmentary body parts suggest that some figures might
have been up to four feet talla considerable feat for artists using a supposedly rudimentary clay-firing process. This corpus is remarkable for its surprising artistic meritand for its age, particularly within the context of Nigerian archaeology and cultural historyyet Nwokos attraction to it hinges on
the fact that it helped him clearly articulate, as never before, an artistic vision
already in formation in his undergraduate studies at Zaria.
Nwoko was interested in the formal style of Nok terra-cotta, the process
involved in its modeling, and the clay-firing technology that made it possible.
He started experimenting with clays used by traditional potters in southern
Nigeria around 1964. However, in the attempt to replicate the varied surface
patina (produced by resinous matter) characteristic of ancient pottery and
Figure 5.15 Demas Nwoko, Adam and Eve, wood, 19621963. Artists Collection. Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
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terra-cotta, he realized that the open-air firing normally used by local potters
would be inadequate due to its thermal inefficiency and low operational temperatures. All this led to a ten-day terra-cotta sculpture workshop organized
by Mbari Ibadan and the Department of Extra-Mural Studies of the University of Ibadan in the summer of 1965.
At the workshop, Nwoko devised a sunken outdoor kiln similar to the
bowl furnacea very old type of iron-smelting furnace still used in Nigeria as late as the nineteenth centuryby combining designs of the ancient
northern Nigerian kilns with the open firing method used by contemporary
Igbo potters. Nwokos kiln achieved the optimal firing temperatures needed
to fuse the mix of grainy white sand particles and clay he used for his sculptures. The kilns design also caused the clay objects to come in direct contact
with the burning teak logs, so that resinous matter from the wood gave the
fired clay objects a variegated color and surface quality comparable to those
of Nok terra-cottas. The result, as critic Denis Williams noted rather hyperbolically, was historic: As for the aesthetic merit Mr. Nwoko has produced
work, in my view, immeasurably superior in concept and in sensitivity to the
finest examples we know from Nok, and hardly inferior, in the originality of
his idiom, to the masterpieces of Ife.14 Nwokos ingenious effort to re-create
an ancient firing technique and process for his terra-cotta figures testifies to
his experimentalist sensibility, a willingness to venture into uncharted territory motivated by the possibility of realizing a new way of making art. Yet
in replicating both the methods and furnace technology putatively used by
the Nok sculptors, he established an ancient genealogy for his new sculptural language.
There is yet another aspect to this series. Given the fragmentary state of
the Nok corpususually consisting of heads without torsos, figures without
heads, or fragments of bothNwokos mostly full-figure compositions rhetorically reconstitute and make whole the Nok artistic heritage. Yet this is not
a merely restorative project, an attempt to revive the formal style of classical
Nok. Rather, what makes this body of work so utterly fresh is, paradoxically,
its idiosyncratic archaism, a quality we have seen in the sculptures of the
award-winning Brazilian sculptor Agnaldo dos Santos (cf. ch. 4).
Despite the compelling ancient appearance of Nwokos sculpturesthey
do not look like objects of recent manufacturehis terra-cotta figures represent contemporary Africans rather than subjects who existed in the past.
A female figure, Titled Woman (1965), with huge anklets, arm bangles, and
necklaces, for instance, depicts a modern titled western Igbo woman in her
ivory and coral bead ornaments and fly whisk (figure 5.17). Another figure
with a long flowing gown, small wristbands, and a huge dome-shaped coiffure or headdress comes across as a contemporary, perhaps even urbanized,
African woman of no specific ethnic origin. On the other hand, two well-
known figures, Senegalese Woman and the Asele Institutes Philosopher (1965;
figure 5.18), wear generic traditional attire, but rather than represent fabric
folds realistically, Nwoko uses rounded threads of clay to barely suggest fold
lines, thus guaranteeing both the archaic effect of the sculptures and, in a
sense, their timelessness.
It is clear from the foregoing that Nwokos experimental work, based on
Nok (and to some extent ancient Ife) terra-cottas, though coming slightly
later, compares with Uche Okekes Igbo Uli-influenced drawing and painting, in the sense that both artists derived their aesthetic logic from the formal
characteristics of a particular traditional art form. The result is a coherent
After Zaria
body of work that further argues for the viability of natural synthesis as a
theoretical model for new work in Nigeria. But his appropriation of Nok
sculptural language for Nwokos own work is significant for another reason:
it shifted the notion of native belongingness inherent in Okekes understanding of natural synthesis, as well as the constitution of artistic heritage, from
an ethnos to a nation-state basis. Moreover, Nwokos Nok-inspired sculpture
invariably raises important questions about how different Art Society artists
imagined their relationship with ethnicity, culture, and history in postcolonial Nigeria. For it departs from the assumption implied by the Zaria-period
mandate that members research the art forms and traditions of their native culturesin other words foregrounding claims of ethnic authenticity as
nationalismwhich authorized Okekes Igbo Uli-based work. Yusuf Grillo
makes this point about the centrality of ethnicity as the locus of nationalist
subjectivity in Nigeria:
The very first thing for an artist (Chinese, Japanese, Nigerian, European
[sic] etc.) is to know who he or she is. You have to know where you are
coming from. You have to know your roots. Not because you are an artist, but for the simple reason that you are a person. For example you have
been born in Benin. You have to know Benin, its traditions and history. If
you are born in Ife, you ought to know all about Ife, the origin, mythology,
the names of past Obas, the belief system and the culture of the people.15
Grillo, it seems to me, suggests that the assertion of a Nigerian identity
implies an open identification with ones ethnicity, whichif we are to believe anticolonial, nationalist politiciansis the locus of both political and
existential authenticity in the context of the modern multiethnic nation-
state. But there is no consensus in the Zaria group on the question of the role
of ethnicity in the national imaginary. For instance, Okekes pervasive focus
on Igbo arts and culturesas an artist, a folklorist, and a historiantestify
to Grillos way of thinking about nationalism, whereas Nwokos sculptures
suggest sympathies with transethnic nationalism; indeed both represent two
distinct positions on the centrality of ethnicity and religious difference in the
discourse of Nigerian national politics in the postWorld War II period.16
Despite the pan-Nigerian and pan-Africanist outlook of early twentieth-
century politicians, emblematized in the late 1930s by the Nnamdi Azikiwe
led Nigerian Youth Movement (nym), ethnicity became a major factor in the
rhetoric and practice of politics in Nigeria during the last decades of colonization. Nationalist politicians took this roada process described by James
Coleman as regionalization of nationalismpartly to fend off questions
Figure 5.18 Demas Nwoko, Philosopher, terra-cotta, 1965. Collection of Asele Institute, Nimo.
Photo, the author. Demas Nwoko.
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about the authenticity of their popular mandate and partly to appeal to the
strong ethnic nationalisms of their constituent power bases.17 Among the
political elite, in other words, ethnic identification was a crucial part of their
quest for national sovereignty, although it also complicated feelings of national belongingness among the nations diverse constituent peoples.
In his rigorous experimentation and total identification with Igbo Uli art,
Okeke seems to echo the brand of nationalism anchored on ethnic identity.
On the other hand, Nwoko, like the early nym and the associated Zikist movement, substitutes the national for the ethnic; in other words, for him one is
first a Nigerian, then an Igbo or Yoruba or Hausa. Nevertheless, Nwokos
nationalism does not amount to a denial of ones ethnicity. Instead, it is the
recognition of an orientation and allegiance to a wider social and political
space, the nation-state, which in the Nigerian situation is, however, always
fraught with difficulties arising from fractious interethnic relations. By seeking inspiration from Nok culture in the mid-1960s, Nwoko reiterated and
signified his politically unfashionable commitment to the idea of a Nigerian
nation with common national interests and heritage.18 His work proposed
that whatever belonged to one ethnic nationality or group (contemporary
Jaba people) could be rightfully claimed by any citizen (Nwoko, an Igbo) of
Nigeria. This is what makes Nwokos Nok series an important political statement masked, partly at least, by the force of its formal achievement.
Bruce Onobrakpeyas work in the early 1960s developed along two crucial,
though ultimately complementary, lines. On the one hand, he sought to exhaust and transcend the possibilities of standard printmaking techniques
and procedures; on the other, he focused on developing a new expressive
style based on his study of his native Urhobo art, Benin royal and ritual sculpture, and Yoruba adire textile design. The meeting of these two paths sometime around 1965 resulted in the distinctive style that would characterize
his mature work.
Unlike his Art Society colleagues, Onobrakpeya (along with Jimo Akolo
and Solomon Wangboje, also from Zaria) participated in and gained tremendously from the Mbari Ibadan and Mbari-Mbayo, Osogbo, summer workshops led by the South African architect Julian Beinart and the Dutch sculptor and printmaker Ru van Rossem (figure 5.19). Having garnered some
critical attention for his experimental printmaking while in Zaria, Onobrakpeya was introduced in the workshops to new and unorthodox materials
After Zaria
209
Figure 5.19 Bruce Onobrakpeya and Ru van Rossem at summer workshop, Mbari-Mbayo, Osogbo,
1964. Photo, Ulli Beier. Estate of Ulli Beier.
and techniques that suited his approach to image making. Moreover, Julian
Beinarts assertion during the workshops, that a vibrant modern art in any
country must seek inspiration from its folk art traditions, coincided with
Onobrakpeyas focus on Urhobo folklore and art as sources for his themes
and design forms. To him, Beinarts statement further vindicated the Art
Societys prescription of rigorous inquiry into indigenous art and craft as the
basis for new work.
Apart from the theoretical impetus that Onobrakpeya got from Beinarts
ideas, Ru van Rossem introduced him to copper engraving and etching techniques that would, by dint of a studio accident in 1967, yield innovative technical procedures characteristic of his printmaking from then onward. Van
Rossems workshops convinced Onobrakpeya of the viability of printmaking
as major art form, one not only amenable to an incredible range of formal
and technical experimentation but also with the potential to supplant painting as his primary medium. Coincident with this gradual shift of emphasis
away from painting was a drastic reconfiguration of his pictorial style around
1963 and 1964. Onobrakpeyas paintings increasingly took on the graphic
elements of his Zaria-period linocut and lino-engraving prints. This is evident in Man with Two Wives and Dancing Masquerader (both 1965) where, de-
Chapter 5
210
spite the occasional modeling and painterly passagesas in the mans face
Onobrakpeya achieves a dramatically graphic effect mostly with structural
Prussian blue outlines and bold decorative patterns and images set against
flat pictorial space (figures 5.20 and 5.21).
The impact of his printmaking on his 1965 paintings is profound, so
much so that the paintings formal qualities seem to derive directly from
those of his prints. Note, for instance, that the same compositional elements
characteristic of his early printsflat color, reductive palette, bold structural
lines, decorative patterns, extreme stylizationappear in his 1965 canvases.
Whereas in his earlier paintings and prints, such as the covered way mural
at the 1960 Nigerian Art exhibition or Quarrel between Ahwaire the Tortoise
and Erhako the Dog (ca. 1960), he used what one might call generic abstract
decorative patterns, by the mid-1960s he was looking to specific indigenous
design and art, as Okeke had a few years before. Appropriating Yoruba adire
textile design and Urhobo and Edo sculptural forms and motifs, Onobrakpeya developed a pervasively decorative style often dependent on folk narratives for thematic focus.
Around 1965, after he finished at Zaria, Onobrakpeya concluded that although he had received national renown for several notable book illustrations using conventional woodcut and linocut, these traditional printmaking
techniques offered him no further technical challenges. He thus developed
a collage process using canceled linoleum blocks to create composite relief
panels. Calling this new work bronze-lino, because he built his images
from linoleum-cut panels and gave them a bronze finish to enhance their
visual appeal, he developed a sculptural relief style based on printmaking
processes and materials. In Skyscrapers (1966), a bronze-lino piece published
in Nigeria magazine that year, he built a composite relief panel with linoleum
blocks, from which he printed illustrations for Cyprian Ekwensis 1962 short
story collection An African Nights Entertainment.19 Arranged on a rectangular
plywood support, the blocks define a geometrically irregular outline resembling the silhouette of an urban cityscape. Partly because each block has its
own independent system of textureswith its own pictorial composition in
reversethe panel is nonnarrative and resolutely sculpturesque and, with
the bronzed color, invokes diverse traditions of relief sculpture, from royal
Benin to the Italian Renaissance and early twentieth-century modernism.
Onobrakpeyas subsequent bronze-lino works, such as Untitled and Pot (ca.
1966), become more pictorially complex, combining legible forms and expressive abstract gestures achieved by pouring glue over all or parts of the
composition. He extends the textural range by gluing found objects onto the
composition (figures 5.22 and 5.23).
Figure 5.20 Bruce Onobrakpeya, Man with Two Wives, oil on board, 1965. Collection of Federal
Society of Arts and Humanities, University of Lagos Library, Lagos. Photo, the author. Bruce
Onobrakpeya.
Figure 5.21
Bruce Onobrakpeya,
Dancing Masquerader,
oil on board, 1965. Photo,
the author. Bruce
Onobrakpeya.
In 1967, having acquired an etching press similar to the one used in the
Mbari workshops, Onobrakpeya began in earnest to make copperplate engravings and etchings at his new painting and printmaking studio in the
Palmgrove area of Lagos. It was here that an incident occurredthe artist
called it a hydrochloric acid accidentthat yielded the third process that
revolutionized his technical procedures. He had ruined his first zinc plates
because instead of nitric acid, he had used the more corrosive hydrochloric
acid to etch them. Months later, Erhabor Emokpae, a fellow artist working at
the time on the monumental Olokuna tall wooden sculpture covered with
copper coins, now in the collection of the National Council for Arts and Culture, Lagosintroduced him to Araldite, an epoxy resin glue. Onobrakpeya used the resin to seal corroded parts of his zinc plates, but in the test
proofs, the hardened drips of glue formed unanticipated deep bosses on the
212
Figure 5.22
Bruce Onobrakpeya, Untitled,
bronze lino, ca. 1966.
Collection of National Council
of Arts and Culture, Abuja.
Photo, the author. Bruce
Onobrakpeya.
Figure 5.23
Bruce Onobrakpeya, Untitled,
bronze lino, ca. 1966.
Collection of Federal Society
of Arts and Humanities,
University of Lagos Library,
Lagos. Photo, the author.
Bruce Onobrakpeya.
paper. He realized that by pouring more glue on the plate, he could abrade
and engrave the raised resin surfaces to produce a hybrid image combining delicate intaglio printing and soft embossed reliefs. He called the prints
pulled from these altered plates deep etchings or plastographs because of
their unique three-dimensionality (figure 5.24).
Onobrakpeyas initial deep etchings, exemplified by Bathers I (1967), attest to the technical challenges of controlling his newfangled medium. In
this work depicting three figures with impressive body decorations, a proliferation of accidental marks and deliberate designs spreads across the entire compositional surface, creating a pictorial tension absent in his earlier
prints or paintings; the bathers seem only barely able to resist dissolving
into the formless space around them (figure 5.25). But as he mastered the
deep etching and plastography techniques, Onobrakpeya seemed to come
After Zaria
215
Figure 5.25 Bruce Onobrakpeya, Bathers I, deep etching, 1967. Reproduced from Bruce
Onobrakpeya: The Spirit in Ascent (1992), p. 37. Bruce Onobrakpeya.
As the work of Uche Okeke, Demas Nwoko, and Bruce Onobrakpeya demonstrates, the desire to develop formal solutions to the conceptual problems
raised by natural synthesis was a strong motivation for post-Zaria work.
Simon Okekes work reveals a different understanding, perhaps even a rejection, of the formalistic implications of natural synthesis operative in the
work of the Art Society triumvirate. For Okeke, the desire for a style rooted in
the traditional arts of Nigerian peoples or for the invention of a radically new
Chapter 5
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form, different from the familiar language of figural realism acquired from
his art school training, was not important to his modernist vision.
Upon graduation from the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology in Zaria, Simon Okeke was appointed curator of the National Museum, Lagos, a position that provided him ample opportunity to study and research the museums extensive ethnographic collection. In 1962 he traveled
to Salisbury, Rhodesia (now Harare, Zimbabwe), with that collection. The
works were to be included in an exhibition organized by John Picton of the
Lagos Museum and Frank McEwen, who convened the First International
Congress of African Culture (icac), held at the Rhodes National Gallery in
Salisbury (now the National Gallery of Zimbabwe), from August 1 through
September 30. Attending that historic conference were such art world dignitaries as Alfred Barr Jr., founding director of the Museum of Modern Art,
New York; William Fagg, keeper of Ethnology at the British Museum; and
Roland Penrose, cofounder of the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London;
as well as the surrealist artist Tristan Tzara and several African scholars and
artists. During the conference, Simon Okeke delivered a well-received paper
on Nigerian art, later visited the Great Zimbabwe and local cave art sites,
and met a number of contemporary artists working in Salisbury. While these
experiences shored up Okekes profile as a curator and expanded his understanding of the arts of Nigeria and Africa, they seemed to have had little effect
on the development of his work as an artist. Nevertheless, his trips to major
museum collections in France, Greece, Italy, and Libya might have deepened
his appreciation of the Western premodernist figurative traditions evident in
his post-Zaria work.
Despite the fact that Simon Okeke continued to make sculptures after
Zaria, he turned to watercolor as his primary medium, developing a formal
style described by art historian Marshall Ward Mount as the most unusual
of the Zaria graduates.20 Presented in Okekes first major art exhibition in
1963, which was organized by Nigeria magazine at the Exhibition Center,
Lagos, these watercolors secured his reputation as a painter. The watercolors
are intriguing in part because of their sculptural illusionism; that is to say,
they strikingly mimic the impressionistic three-dimensionality of his earlier
sculptural reliefs. The optical quality of the drawings is achieved, first, by
meticulous abrasion of the heavy paper that has been washed with dark
colors to reveal the constituent pictorial elements of his composition. By
selective and successive use of dark lines, shading, and further abrasion, he
modified the image until it acquired a virtual three-dimensional quality. The
resulting strong chiaroscuro (sometimes a softer sfumato) effect speaks to a
After Zaria
keen sense of mass and volume acquired from his training as a sculptor and
his familiarity with European Renaissanceera pictorial techniques.
His sometimes strangely androgynous, oval-headed, long-limbed human
figuresdenizens of his imagined premodern, pagan societyseem to
emerge from a dark chthonic realm. They appear to be either actively engaged in occult drama or trapped in ritual matrices, the latter suggested
by beaded ornaments, ceremonial gear, and a proliferation of ritual pots
and egg-shaped forms. Because of these formal and thematic aspects of the
watercolors, Uche Okeke aptly described his artist-friend Simon Okeke as a
ritual realist (figures 5.26 and 5.27).21
Let us note a crucial point, which is that the evocation of the mysterious
through Simon Okekes pictorial style and subject matter was his particular
means of responding to what he perceived as the ravages of European and
Christian civilizations on Igbo culture and traditional society. Motivated by
his own interpretation of the theory of natural synthesis, he had faith in the
possibilities of a new, progressive order resulting from the disastrous cultural conflicts that defined African colonial modernity:
I was born in a pagan society which had its charms. I felt myself surrounded by mysteries, supernatural influences and the wonders of a pure
happy life. Then came the abrupt change over to Christianity and its teachings. To the new converts, the indigenous culture became a taboo and a
mark of primitive living and a sure way to hell. Inspired art became a sinful outrage against the new religious thought. . . . At present, the sophisticated urban life polluted by the worst elements of Western civilization
makes one feel a homeless, soulless, materialistic machine. But I entertain a belief that the Christian religion can exist side by side with a sound
indigenous culture.22
It must be said, however, that despite Simon Okekes rather naive and
clichd view of what he calls pagan society and modern urban cultureor
indeed the tactical shifts from the autobiographical to the anthropological
voicehis firm belief in the cohabitation of religions and the synthesis of
cultures must be seen as the basis for his thematic concerns. Still, we are
hard pressed to find the connection between his desire for a postcolonial cultural synthesis and the sort of formal syntheses evident in the work of Uche
Okeke, Demas Nwoko, and to a lesser extent Bruce Onobrakpeya.
I thus find untenable the claim by Uche Okeke that Simon Okeke was
deeply influenced by the sculptural works of Nok, Igbo-Ukwu, Ife and
Benin23 or the assertion by Jean Kennedy that one is tempted to see in
217
Figure 5.26 Simon Okeke, Lady, mixed media on paper, 1965. Mr. and Mrs. Joe Obiago collection. Image courtesy of
Arthouse Contemporary Ltd., Lagos. Estate of Simon Okeke.
Figure 5.27
Simon Okeke,
Off to Battle,
mixed media,
1963. Princeton
University
Art Museum.
Museum
purchase, Mary
Trumbull Adams
Art Fund 2013
43. Estate of
Simon Okeke.
[Okekes] work influences from the famous bronzes at Igbo-Ukwu, east of the
Niger River, where Okeke was born in 1937.24 To be sure, Uche Okeke might
have been driven primarily by the desire to extend his own formalist interpretation of natural synthesis to the work of his former Art Society colleague,
thus demonstrating the groups ideological unity beyond Zaria. On the other
hand, Kennedys view of Simon Okekes work as bound to the ancient art
of his native Igbo-Ukwu reveals her uncritical acceptance of what had then
become a canonical, if unfounded, story of the Art Societys radical rejection of Western art in favor of Nigerian art traditions as the source of their
new work. The consequence of Kennedys roots-finding exercise is to make
us lose sight of the crucial fact that the artists training in modernist figurative sculpture while at Zaria, his studies of Western museum collections,
and his keen interest in science fiction and indigenous Nigerian cultures
219
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220
anticipated a visual language evidently unrelated to any ancestral Igbo or ancient Nigerian art forms. His watercolors reveal that Okeke readily combined
traditional academic techniques, which he rigorously pursued in the Zaria
sculpture studio and after, and contemporary figural language (remarkably
similar to Ben Enwonwus), with which he explored themes relating to mid-
twentieth-century Igbo culture.
It is important to emphasize, on the evidence of Simon Okekes pictorial program, the difference between his work and that of Uche Okeke and
Demas Nwoko, for whom the search for a new style based on exploration of
the formal qualities of indigenous art was a primary preoccupation. Okeke
was convinced that the ideological basis of natural synthesis, though important, did not warrant or necessarily imply a search for new formal styles
extracted from any specific indigenous Nigerian artistic traditions. If, as I
argue, the years after Zaria saw the realization of the work anticipated by
natural synthesis, this work also reveals that even within the Art Society,
there was no collective agreement on the specific stylistic direction of the
new work, precisely because natural synthesis did not authorize such unitary style. In other words, although these artists concluded that political and
cultural independence implied freedom to formulate new work based on the
realization of the importance of both inherited and appropriated traditions,
they differed in the extent to which these ideological questions should affect
or dictate their formal styles.
If anyone looking at contemporary Nigerian art in the early postindependence period had any doubts about Jimo Akolos significance as a painter,
his honorable mention at the Sixth So Paulo Bienal (1961) and mural commission for the Northern Nigerian House of Assembly in Kaduna laid those
doubts to rest. Yet like Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke, Akolo set his eyes
to further travels and training in Europe, but for different reasons: while his
colleagues saw the European trip as an opportunity to enhance their technical expertise in the cultural work they imagined for themselves, Akolo saw
in Europe prospects for refining his painterly skills. Thus after two successful exhibitions at the Exhibition Centre, Lagos, and at Mbari Ibadan in the
summer of 1962, he traveled to England later in the year, with the assistance
of Dennis Duerden. In London, Akolo took courses at the Hornsey College
of Arts and Crafts, producing several paintings in 1963, some of which were
included in his one-person exhibition at the Commonwealth Institute in Feb-
After Zaria
221
Figure 5.28 Jimo Akolo, Fulani Horsemen, oil on canvas, 1962. Courtesy of British Empire and Commonwealth Museum.
Bristol, UK. Photo, the author. Jimo Akolo.
After Zaria
223
Figure 5.29 Jimo Akolo, Untitled, oil on canvas, 1963. Courtesy of British Empire and
Commonwealth Museum, Bristol, UK. Photo, the author. Jimo Akolo.
dark and light, almost white, color. The sudden shifts from black to white and
from cadmium red to occasional cobalt blue and yellow ocher dramatically
convey a mood that is at once disturbing and tense, effectively reifying the
works dark, understated, subject matter. The drips here, unlike elsewhere,
are agitated, as if violently splashed against the canvas surface, leaving irregular traces of paint. Perhaps he is trying outsomething equally evident in another painting, Northern Horsemen (1965; figure 5.31)the gestures of action
painting or just practically emphasizing that the painters primary task is
making pictures rather than telling stories or championing cultural ideologies.
If Akolos work powerfully extends his Zaria-period critique of the Art
Society, it also reminds us once more that the problem of artistic-cultural
authenticity and freedom in the context of the decolonized nation was not
a simple matter. Undoubtedly, in their aspiration to develop postcolonial
224
Figure 5.31 Jimo Akolo, Northern Horsemen, oil on canvas, 1965. Courtesy of University of
Sussex. Photo, the author. Jimo Akolo.
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modernism, members of the Art Society and Akolo were concerned with the
meaning and implication of the idea of freedom symbolized by political independence. Yet where key members of the society sought to define their modernism by situating it within the rhetoric of cultural freedom, which implied
developing a new artistic form based on indigenous forms and aesthetics,
Akolos modernism argues for the individual artists liberty to appropriate
and claim, on his own terms, any relevant modernist and Western traditions.
Akolos position on the question of postcolonial artistic language is moreover
remarkably similar to that of the Senegalese painter Iba Ndiaye (19282008),
who in rejecting Ibra Talls institutionalization of the negritude aesthetic at
the cole de Dakar in the early 1960s stoutly defended his commitment to
the formalist concerns of the postWorld War II school of Paris. It also reminds us of the Ethiopian abstract painter Gebre Kristos Desta (19321981),
who in affirming his enchantment with modernist (abstract) painting rather
than his Ethiopian Christian art heritage, famously declared: What interests
me is pure play with forms and colors. Im not attracted by political and religious aspects of art.27
evident in the work of the artists examined in this chapter, they saw themselves as cotravelers on a journey of discovery, as inspired wanderers compelled by the thrill of political independence to push modern Nigerian art
in many uncharted directions. And as Uche Okeke noted later, despite their
intensely individualistic work, they were mutually committed to experimentation with diverse artistic forms and concepts, which he identifies as
the hallmark of modern Nigerian art after 1960. Predictably, this quest for
new imagery and attitudes, the bewildering cacophony of it perhaps, elicited
vehement criticisms (as the next chapter shows) from older artists and critics disturbed as much by the loud, aggressive, and supposedly substandard
quality of the emerging art as by the collusion of expatriate critics in pushing
it to the mainstream.
Chapter 6
CONTESTING
THE M ODERN
Artists Societies and Debates on Art
tural activity in the first years after Nigeria gained independence from the
United Kingdom, Lagos quickly attracted many of the leading artists, critics, and writers. By the middle of the 1960s, Lagos had completed its evolution as Nigerias modern art capital, thanks to the supporting institutions
established during this period.1 Apart from the many artists who relocated
from Zaria to Lagos, graduates of the local Yaba College of Technology and
a few artists returning home after training overseas also settled in Lagos.
They were attracted by the many exhibition opportunities offered by the invigorated Exhibition Centre and other emerging art galleries, the patronage
from foreign agencies and expatriate collectors, and employment opportunities in civil service, schools, and the arts industry. The shift from Ibadan
to Lagos moreover precipitated a significant change in the scope and tenor
of debates, discussions, and transactions within the Nigerian art circles during the 1960s.
Chapter 6
228
Of the few available venues for art exhibitions in Lagos in the early 1960s,
the Exhibition Centre and the American Society of African Culture (amsac)
gallery were the most important. Established by the colonial government in
1943 as a space for exhibiting work by emerging contemporary Nigerian and
expatriate European artists, for decades the Exhibition Centre offered the
only functional space for shows in Lagos. Yet if the center seemed adequate
for exhibitions by the few practicing artists in 1950s Lagos, the influx of artists from Zaria and overseas after 1960 made the addition of alternative exhibition galleries in the city both necessary and urgent. Thus when Michael
Crowder became director of the center in 1959, his regular schedule of exhibitions by young and established Nigerian artists inaugurated an era of unprecedented growth in the art industry, but it also made more apparent the
inadequacy of the center as the sole space for contemporary art exhibition
in Lagos.
On the other hand, amsac, which like the Congress for Cultural Freedom
was funded by the cia, was mandated to promote African culture by building
bonds between American blacks and black Africans who had their struggle
for freedom in common.3 Merging in 1957 with the Council on Race and
Caste in World Affairs (corac), which monitored the extent of communist
exploitation of race relations for political gains and officially incorporated in
1960, amsac, with its West African regional office in Lagos, promoted work
229
tial essay Into the Abstract Jungle, a veiled critique of the council and its expatriate officers support of young abstractionists. For his part, Okeke wrote
to Evelyn Brown at the Harmon Foundation, We have no central art organisation in this country and I must tell you frankly that Mrs. Majekodunmi
cannot judge or value my work. They are different from what she understands.9 Simon Okeke also believed that the council, with its British bias,
denied Nigerian artists access to the more desirable US art markets.10 These
critical observations notwithstanding, the Lagos branch organized contemporary art exhibitions at the National Museum, Lagos, and facilitated the participation of Nigerian artists in overseas events, such as the 1962 So Paulo
Bienal. It also established Gallery Labac (an acronym for Lagos branch of
the arts council), the citys first commercial gallery, directed by Afi Ekong
(19302009), the most visible female artist on the Lagos scene and a well-
known television personality.
A scion of the royal house of the Obong of Calabar and daughter-in-law of
the Atta of Igbirra, Ekong studied fashion in England at Oxford City Technical School (now Oxford Brookes University), as well as art and the history of
fashion at Saint Martins School of Art and the Central School of Art and Design in London in the 1950s. She had her first exhibition, the first by a woman
artist in Nigeria, at the Exhibition Centre, Lagos, in 1958. She also had a well-
publicized solo exhibition at the Galeria Galatea in Buenos Aires, Argentina,
in April 1961. In her work, which often depicted masks and genre subject
matter, she sometimes combined a rich palette of brilliant color activated by
expressive brushwork; at other times her colors are muted and heavy, with
understated brush marks (figures 6.2 and 6.3). Ekongs appointment as executive board member and art manager of the Lagos Art Council and art
supervisor of the Gallery Labac confirmed her influence in the Lagos art and
social scene and assured her a listing in the New York Times Magazines feature on the new African woman in 1963.11 In 1962 she ran Cultural Heritage, a
Nigerian Television Channel 10 cultural promotion program featuring Nigerian traditional dances alongside the work of several young and established
Nigerian artists, including Felix Idubor, Yusuf Grillo, Simon Okeke, Uche
Okeke, and Festus Idehen.
The Gallery Labac, designed by a prominent Lagos-based British architect, Robin Atkinson (b. 1930), was not dedicated simply to exhibiting contemporary art. Rather, it displayed and sold works of contemporary artists
as well as craft worksmostly traditional jewelry and souvenir-type wood
sculpturesfrom around the country. One might think that the lack of emphasis on contemporary art in the gallerys operations was symptomatic of a
231
Figure 6.2 Afi Ekong, Meeting, oil on canvas, 1960. Federal Society of Arts and Humanities
collection, University of Lagos Library, Lagos. Photo, the author. Estate of Afi Ekong.
Figure 6.3 Afi Ekong, Cowherd, oil on canvas, early 1960s. Federal Society of Arts and Humanities
collection, University of Lagos Library, Lagos. Photo, the author. Estate of Afi Ekong.
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visions projected onto the cultural sector by these groups catalyzed perennial
debates about the relevance of the council; a dramatic display of competing
ideas was sparked by a memorandum that Ben Enwonwu wrote (December
1960), seeking the reorganization of the council in order to professionalize it.
Enwonwus memo, written just months after his conflict with the Lagos
branch over the 1960 Nigerian Art exhibition to celebrate the nations independence, is striking in its tone and substance. Apart from insisting on
educating the masses through public lectures on art and art history to be
organized by the council, the memo proposed that the reorganized body
be mandated to combat all reactionary tendencies which would lead to
commercialisation of creative talents in the society. It also proposed the
following:
Members should be given authority to prevent an attempt by any other
members of the Council from wielding a bad influence in the country
by publishing fallacious views of Nigerian art.
To create a distinct qualities [sic] between true art and its counterfeit;
and to prevent egalitarian ideas of artists which are bad from prevailing
in the society whereby young and inexperienced artists and craftsmen
are encouraged to regard themselves as rival[s] of the more experienced
and advanced artists.
Members of this body should be Africans. And this body should be
limited in its membership to Nigerians.13
While the earlier Nigerian Art exhibition clash must have reminded the
councils expatriates and Nigerian members of the well-rehearsed grounds
for Enwonwus antagonism toward them, his desire to have the group sanction the delegitimization of its expatriate members and authorize his challenge of their relevance or the pertinence of their work (by restricting the
councils important art-related programs to Nigerian-only professionals)
opened a new battle line. While there was apparently no formal response to
the memo, Enwonwu soon moved his campaign for a Nigerians-only professional body, what he called a Nigerian academy of art, outside the council,
momentarily collaborating with Uche Okeke to forward his agenda.
WHILE THE ARTS COUNCIL was the undisputable locus of activity and debates
on art and culture during the 1960s, the Federal Society for the Arts and
Humanities (fsah) complemented the councils work. Unlike the council,
fsah was nongovernmental; it focused on nurturing and institutionalizing the modern and contemporary arts of Nigeria. Founded by some well-
known art patronsthe first chief justice of independent Nigeria, Sir Adetokunbo Ademola; Chief A. Y. Eke, registrar of the University of Lagos; and
other members of the Lagos social elite, including Nora Majekodunmi of the
arts councilfsah also included some Lagos-based artists, including Bruce
Onobrakpeya, Erhabor Emokpae, and Yusuf Grillo, who was later appointed
fsah secretary.14
Besides organizing contemporary art exhibitions, mostly at the J. K.
Randle Hall in Lagos, the signal project for fsah was to open a national gallery of modern art and a recital hall in Lagos. By the mid-1960s the society
had secured the support of the Ford Foundation, New York, to help finance
the gallery project; subsequently, fsah initiated an unprecedented art acquisition program, amassing perhaps the most important collection of 1960s
work by both emerging and established Nigerian artists.15 The fact that fsah
occasioned the convergence of Lagoss social and cultural elite for the promotion of the visual arts was remarkable, both for what it says about widespread optimism in the first years of the independence decade and because
the groups commitment to building a national collection was one of the
earliest symbolic gestures by this class of Nigerians to imagine the nation
through art. The gallery project never materialized, however, due to friction
between government officials, who wished to control the administration and
funding of arts and culture, and fsah members, who were unwilling to cede
such powers to state bureaucrats.16 The failure of the project, moreover, revealed widening fissures, as the decade wore on, between a political bureaucracy that saw nothing of modern arts supposed cultural and symbolic capital and a social elite that believed this art was crucial to the making and
consolidation of a new national culture. With everything else that was happening in the political sphere, the collapse of the very project that gave fsah
its raison dtre signaled the end of utopian visions inaugurated by national
independence.
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sional artists organization was already a part of the Art Society initiative.
For while disbanding in the spring of 1961, the Art Society leaders vowed to
continue the groups work beyond college (cf. ch. 3). Arriving in Lagos after
graduation, some of the society members continued to meet informally and
soon began exploring the possibility of a national association of artists. This
is where their goals and that of Ben Enwonwu converged.
In late October 1961, Uche Okeke, just back from Zaria and on his way
to Munich, met with Enwonwu to discuss the formation of the Nigerian Art
Academyalready proposed to the arts council by Enwonwuas well as
their shared misgivings about the council. Their meeting, which led to the
November 18 inauguration of the academy, was also attended by several renowned artists, including Aina Onabolu, Felix Idubor, Demas Nwoko, Simon
Okeke, Yusuf Grillo, Festus Idehen, Bruce Onobrakpeya, Afi Ekong, Clara
Ugbodaga-Ngu, Jimo Akolo, Erhabor Emokpae, T. A. Fasuyi, J. Nkobi, and
M. A. Ajayi. Onabolu and Enwonwu were elected president and vice presidentdirector, respectively. Fasuyi was appointed secretary, and Uche Okeke
was named publicity secretary. Despite widespread interest shown by the
academys inaugural members, however, the idea died soon afterward. Why
the art academy idea failed is unclear, but we could speculate that the initiative was doomed from the onset for two primary reasons. First, it must have
been confronted by the complicated logistics of creating a state-sanctioned
professional organization with the powers of censorship. Given the tension
already existing between the artists and the still powerful expatriate officials
of the arts council, the academy, which must have been viewed as a possible power rival to the council, stood little chance of getting official support.
Moreover, recalling the explicit resentment for the social elite expressed in
Enwonwus Times article and his antagonistic memo to the arts council of
just months before, it is impossible to imagine how he could have secured
governmental support for this project, even with his official position as the
federal art adviser. Second, given the conflicting agenda of the two principal players within the academyEnwonwu and Okekeits core mission,
as imagined by Enwonwu, was unsustainable. Here was Enwonwu, bent on
both asserting his leadership and preeminence and controlling the irreverent, supposedly misguided young artists with their egalitarian ideas; then
there were Okeke and his cohort, committed to breaking out of Enwonwus
shadow and becoming an alternative to his leadership of the art scene.
The academy thus seems to have been a collateral victim of the struggle
between the old guard and the young avant-garde, with their irreconcilable
ideas about the role of modern art in postindependent Nigeria. But whatever the reasons for the collapse of Enwonwus initiative, the fact that it at-
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they reintroduced the idea of professionalizing the council by restructuring it in ways far more radical than those Enwonwu proposed in his 1960
memorandum.
Throughout 1965 and early 1966, there were frequent deliberations within
the arts council over a proposal to establish an Institute for Culture, a governmental entity that would take over and professionalize the councils work.
As outlined by the committee charged with implementing the report on the
institutebased on memoranda by Afi Ekong and other artist-members of
the councilthe institute would consist of four academies, sited in Lagos
and the three federal regions, supported by the council and by the existing
professional societies and associations.19 In spite of enthusiastic support for
the institute by the councils sna bloc, resistance was firm and passionate, so
much so that Major J. G. C. Allen, who had submitted a withering critique of
the initiative, resigned his membership. Others, including the former Zaria
teacher Clara Ugbodaga-Ngu, who led the short-lived and little-known Association of Nigerian Artists, were critical of the proposed institutes elitism
and of the fact that it seemed to duplicate the work of African studies programs in the newly established universities. Faced thus with an unprecedented internal crisis but also in consideration of the costs involved, the
national committee of the arts council shelved the institute idea, although it
continued to support sna.
In any case, despiteor perhaps because ofsnas early successes, arguments within the Lagos and national art worlds about the fate and direction
of modern Nigerian art reached a new high in the mid-1960s. In the pages
of magazines and newspapers, young artists and critics, appearing in the cultural public sphere for the first time, engaged a broad range of issues, from
the vexing question of the arts councils relevance to the paradoxical failings
of the sna, from abstraction in the work of emerging artists to the scale of
their paintings and the price of the new work. In some sense, then, the snas
founding catalyzed the consolidation of discourses on modern Nigerian art
initiated by Aina Onabolu in 1920 and sustained through the years, in different measures, by the work of Kenneth Murray, Dennis Duerden, Ben Enwonwu, Ulli Beiers network, the fsah, and the arts council.
While opening the snas inaugural exhibition in January 1964, Ben Enwonwu, in his dual role as federal art adviser and the societys nominal
patron, declared that artists were expected to
stress the importance of the academic nature of art, and of the studies
necessary for an African today who wishes to become an artist in the true
sense. Through its debates and researches, the Society (of artists) will
evolve new aesthetic principles based upon knowledge. It will afford reasons to academic debates on what is true art and what is its counterfeit.
The societys accepted principles will help to determine what constitutes the difference between a great work of art and a lesser one, the difference between art and craft, and the difference between an artist and a
craftsman. The Society of Nigerian Artists will go further in formulating
new aesthetics of African art.20
Apart from the fact that this statement recasts the main points that Enwonwu made in his 1960 Times article, in which he warned of the threats the
social elite and the lack of leadership posed to Nigerian art, his invocation of
what he calls the academic nature of art implies both a claim to the rigor
demanded by modern art practice and the relevance of quality control in the
art profession. Although he might not have been speaking of an academy in
the institutional sense (as he hoped earlier), he clearly still believed in the
value of an effective system of regulation and a structure for imposing and
maintaining artistic standards. Only within this disciplinary ordernot in
the riotous, apparently laissez-faire attitude of the young Lagos artists and
their supportersEnwonwu implied, could a new aesthetics of African art
emerge. But we must note, if only in passing, that in this speech Enwonwu
referred to the formulation of an aesthetic of African rather than Nigerian
art. This appeal to an African artistic identity is significant no less because it
was out of step with the aspirations of many of the younger, independence-
generation artists in the audience, whose focus since the establishment of
the Art Society had been the search for and articulation of a Nigerian artistic
character. Whereas Enwonwu continued to espouse ideas associated with the
politics of African nationalistscoded into the rhetoric of pan-Africanism
and negritudethat saw Africa and the black diaspora as the relevant space
of identity formation, the younger artists, as if heeding the theory of national culture proposed by Frantz Fanon (19251961), rallied instead to the
politically realistic but no less fraught banner of the national.
The January 1964 inaugural speech was only the latest example of Enwonwus relentless criticism of trends in postindependence Nigerian and
African art. Only months before, he had published a widely read essay, Into
the Abstract Jungle, in Drum magazine. In it he blamed European critics for
the emergence of abstraction as the fashionable mode of expression among
Nigerias young artists. These funny artists, Enwonwu argued, are
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specious and contorted cadences of sprung rhythm, the heavy use of alliterations and assonances within a line, and the clichd use of double and
triple barreled neologisms.26
Both the formalist writers and their fellow abstract artists, their critics
complain, were condemned to a state of literary inauthenticity because of
their inordinate mimicry of distinctly European artistic/literary models.
In art especially, according to Ben Enwonwu, the real culprits were European critics who, because of ignorance about the religious and social aspects
of African art, were leading Nigerian and African artists into the abstract
jungle rather than up the artistic garden path. This justified his assertion
that no foreigner could sit in judgment on African art except for an artist, for
only then could he appreciate the profound, if subtle, differences between
African and European art.27
Enwonwu invoked another influential Nigerian voice in his offensive
against abstraction. He cited an article published in Nnamdi Azikiwes West
African Pilot by Akinola Lasekan, Uche Okekes former art-by-correspondence
teacher, who at that time taught at the University of Nigeria, Nsukkas art department. Enwonwu stressed Lasekans clarion call about the disturbing speed
with which young, poorly trained Nigerian artists were taking up abstraction
as the style of choice. Lasekan, who himself attained national fame for his political cartoons in the Pilot and his book illustrations, had in fact proffered two
quite sympathetic and more nuanced reasons for the emergence of abstraction
in contemporary African art. The first was the young artists desire to align
their work with contemporary global trends informed by scientific logic; the
second was their endeavor to differentiate their work from the cheap, mass-
produced image economy, too reliant on realism and mimesis.28
The claims Enwonwu makes in the Drum essay deserve closer scrutiny.
First, most of the young artists, many of them graduates of either Zaria or
the Yaba College of Technology, Lagos, had established careers at odds with
Enwonwus caricaturish view of supposedly indolent European modernists
lolling in the coffee bars of Montparnasse or Greenwich Village. The Nigerian postcolonial modernists combined their studio work with employment
as teachers and designers in the public and private sectors; the case of Uche
Okeke was unusual, in that he maintained an independent studio practice
while remaining focused on building his cultural center. Thus in postindependence Nigeria, the closest thing to Enwonwus coffee bar milieu was Mbari
Ibadan, which nevertheless was a structured organization with paid membership and a staff responsible for the production, presentation, and publication
of the important new African artists and writers of the early 1960s.
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of, say, Demas Nwoko, Jimo Akolo, or Uche Okeke, as Enwonwu may have
imagined; the changes that occurred in their work were internally consistent
with their artistic and ideological convictions. What we cannot dispute is that
the expatriates, who in any case were the pioneer critics in the field of modern Nigerian art, provided the independence generation of artists the path
to the national mainstream that had been for years singularly dominated by
Enwonwu.
The paradox of Enwonwus argument about the role of expatriate critics
in the rise of abstraction is that Beierthe most influential European critic
working in Nigeria at the timehad no sympathy for abstract art, and none
of the young artists he vigorously supported worked primarily in an abstract
mode. Erhabor Emokpaewho, more than any other Nigerian artist of the
period, occasionally produced abstract paintingswas not among Beiers
favorite artists; he was instead a protg of Afi Ekong, who introduced him
to the Lagos art scene. Enwonwus attack on abstraction as signifying cultural recolonization thus seems fundamentally flawed, because abstraction
was neither characteristic of new trends in Nigerian art nor the preferred
aesthetic of the supposedly dangerous European cultural Pied Pipers. His
critical interventions might therefore be seen as part of a high-stakes intergenerational struggle for the direction of Nigerian art. They were especially
so seen, as the general criticism he received suggests, by young artists, who
considered him antiprogressive and resistant to the emergence of new voices.
Given the obvious differences in Enwonwus and Akinola Lasekans career
paths and artistic styles, their common criticism of abstraction had to have
been motivated by other considerations. Enwonwus work, to be sure, ranged
from radical stylization to naturalistic figuration and often depicted female
figures with elongated arms and necks that evoke the rhythm and grace of
African dance, as in his Beauty and the Beast (1961; figure 6.4). His realistic
portraits and landscapes, in their painterly vitality, contrast with Lasekans
sedate, illustrative style, thus making them strange bedfellows in the style
debate. I am convinced that these two artists criticism of abstraction was a
pretext for resistance to the generational shift taking place in the Nigerian
art scene. That is to say, obnoxious, trendy abstraction was not so much a
problem of style as the symbol of everything that was wrong with the emergence of a new artistic context and sensibility, one with which Enwonwu and
Lasekan could not identify.
Although Enwonwus ire was directed at the Zaria graduates, with whom
he vied for national attention from 1960 onward, there were other eligible
targets, allies of the Zaria group nevertheless, such as Erhabor Emokpae
243
Figure 6.4 Ben Enwonwu, Beauty and the Beast, oil on canvas, 1961. Federal Society of Arts and
Humanities collection, University of Lagos Library, Lagos. Photo, the author. The Ben Enwonwu
Foundation.
(19341984) and Okpu Eze (19341995). More than any others in the Lagos
scene, Emokpae and Eze fit Enwonwus picture of the young, brash artist
lacking rigorous academic training. The proud, charismatic Emokpae, the
son of a Bini chief, had a tendency to create controversial work, which made
him one of the most visible artists in Lagos. Not formally trained, he worked
under a graphic design master at Kingsway Stores, Lagos, until 1953, when
he became a graphic artist in the Ministry of Information. His art career
began around 1954, soon after he transferred to the Enugu office of the Ministry, where he devoted more time to his art but also to reading.33 In Enugu,
Emokpae met Afi Ekong. She, along with Prince Abdul Aziz Atta, at that
time her husband, provided him with art materials; they became his first
patrons. With their encouragement he returned to Lagos in 1958, where he
joined West African Publicity Ltd., a subsidiary of the London-based media
conglomerate Lintas.
Michael Crowder describes Emokpaes early paintings as naturalistic,
lush, and tend[ing] towards the idealisation of the female somewhat like
[Ivan] Tretchikoff, the self-taught and vastly popular South African painter
whose work is similar to that of the American realist painter and illustrator Norman Rockwell.34 But Emokpaes style during the late 1950s does not
exhibit the elegant drawing and gaudy realism of Tretchikoff. If the clumsy
execution and nonnaturalistic palette in My American Friend (ca. 1957) is a
measure of Emokpaes formal style during this period, it is safe to say that he
was, like his Art Society counterparts, drawn to the formal lessons of postimpressionist painting (figure 6.5). By 1962 Emokpae was already painting
the pictures that would distinguish him from other young artists also on the
threshold of gaining critical attention in Lagos.
In one of his best-known paintings, Struggle between Life and Death (1962),
Emokpae pays homage to modernist abstraction with black and white, reductively bold and geometric pictorial elements reminiscent of the suprematist
work of the Russian avant-garde painter Kazimir Malevich (figure 6.6). Yet
Emokpaes interest went beyond formal experimentation to include the use
of colors and shapes for their symbolic power. In Struggle, the juxtaposition
of reversed black and white squares and semicircles, with the addition of his
palm prints, serves as a visual code for the dialectical relationship between
life and death, being and nothingness:
I see in life and death a dialogue between the womb and the tomb. They
are the parentheses within which we love and hate, laugh and cry, grow
and decay. This duality appears in varying dimensions throughout the
complex pattern of creation and has been very largely the determining
245
246
Figure 6.6 Erhabor Emokpae, Struggle between Life and Death, oil on board, 1962. Collection of
Afolabi Kofo Abayomi. Photo, Anthony Nsofor. Estate of Erhabor Emokpae.
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Figure 6.7 Erhabor Emokpae, Dialogue, oil on board, 1966. National Council of Arts and Culture,
Abuja collection. Photo, the author. Estate of Erhabor Emopkae.
Figure 6.8 Erhabor Emokpae, The Last Supper, oil on board, 1963. Photo, Clmentine Deliss.
Estate of Erhabor Emokpae.
Independence Fantasy, a 12 6 monstrosity which he thinks the organization will lap up for a mere 3,000.37
Although neither Emokpae nor Eze was specifically mentioned in Zakis
text, the fact that two of their paintings illustrated it suggests that their work
was implicated in the critique. Emokpaes Tears of God (1964), much larger
than Ezes, is a three- by eight-foot oil painting on board. Pictorially nonreferential and bare, it features a large encrusted circular swirl at the top right
corner and another lateral streak at the lower left in an otherwise dark, blank
picture plane. The formal qualities of paintings like this further secured
Emokpaes reputation as the poster boy for all that was wrong with abstraction in the eyes of Ben Enwonwu and other critics.
To critics like Zaki and Enwonwu, the huge asking price for Tears of God
(315, more than $7,000 in current inflation-adjusted buying power), was
further proof of inordinate youthful ambition on Emokpaes part (and other
young so-called abstract painters, too)an ambition to command prices
generally thought to be reserved for such established contemporary masters
as Ben Enwonwu and Felix Idubor. This was not a simple matter, given the
hallowed space that Enwonwu in particular occupied in the public imagination. In fact, it was the scandalous price that Emokpae was asking for Tears
of God that prompted the popular Nigerian novelist and occasional art commentator Cyprian Ekwensi (19212007) to publish High Price of Nigerian
Art, a widely read critique of big, abstract, pricey paintings by young Nigerian artists. In this text, Ekwensi described his encounter with one of Emokpaes paintings:
A very impressive painting by Nigerian Artist Erabor [sic] Emokpae, covering an area eight feet by four feet [sic] and leaving little room for other
paintings in the exhibition by three Nigerian artists. The exhibition was
attended by the usual clique of American collectors, sophisticated Nigerians, and television and still cameras. For that price a large percentage
of jobless Nigerians would happily give their services for twelve calendar months. How many Nigerians were appreciative enough to write a
cheque for that figure and have the painting delivered? And again, was it
becoming the vogue to sell paintings by the square foot? The answers to
these questions and to many others which plague the mind about Nigerian
art and Nigerian artists can best be answered by the artists themselves.38
It will come as no surprise that Ekwensi interviewed the two enfants
terribles of abstract art (Eze and Emokpae) and their chief antagonist (Enwonwu) for this inquiry, but it is Enwonwus response that concerns us as
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he ties together the high price of contemporary art with the core problem he
tackled in his Drum magazine article: the negative influence of European
Pied Pipers on young Nigerian abstractionists.
According to Enwonwu, the highest price a Nigerian artist should ask for
a painting is eighty guineas, which makes sense to him, given that even he
would charge three hundred guineas only for what he considers a masterpiece.39 The problem, as he saw it, had much to do with the lack of standard
criteria for art evaluation in Nigeria whose art market is unlike Europes advanced one, where the price depended on such reasonable benchmarks as the
artists reputation, training, age, professional experience, and the labor input
of a given work. Apart from the fact that he saw no logical basis for any Nigerian artistparticularly those he considered inexperienced, lazy dilettantes
who had found a safe house in abstractionto compete with him in the art
market, Enwonwu was convinced that the rise of abstract art was a consequence of the scandalous state of the unregulated market. As he put it, the
absence of even a basic understanding of the business of art forces the artist
to be a mere imitator of European artists; as a result Nigerian art is being
dragged into an abstract jungle.40
These debates, elicited ostensibly by Emokpaes singular gesture of demanding what his critics considered an inordinate price for a painting by a
young artist, further indicated the degree to which Nigerian art had become
a multilayered, contested terrain by the mid-1960s. Erhabor Emokpae represented one of its facets in his desire to be unfettered by African artistic
traditions, yet he walked along a parallel path of creative self-determination
with the Art Society group, whose members were grappling with the consequences of natural synthesis. Both groups, joined by the perception of excessive ambition, had to contend with the opposition of the old guard, represented by Ben Enwonwu and Akinola Lasekan, which was anxious about
the displacement and reconfiguration of the normative order by the independence generation.
It bears emphasizing that Emokpaes aesthetic program, more profoundly
influenced by then recent modernist work, was similar to that of Okpu Eze,
whom Ulli Beier referred to as a Nigerian surrealist, and of Colette Omogbai (b. 1942), the painter from Zaria who also identified herself as a surrealist. In calling Eze a surrealist, Beier seems to have thought of surrealism in
terms of the artists depiction of unreal and mythological subjects by means
of stylized figural and abstract forms. But as Ekwensi astutely observed, Ezes
paintings result from the effort to capture attitudes, movements, rhythm,
dynamism, fleeting moments, unstable designs.41 Even if the constituent
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Figure 6.10 Colette Omogbai, Anguish, ca. 1963. Image courtesy of Iwalewa-Haus, University of Bayreuth.
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mental and his parallel fear of and distaste for pictures of great intensity.44
Though she does not directly address a specifically Nigerian spectatorship,
speaking of generic man instead, there is no question about her target, for
she ridicules most, if not all, charges leveled against young artists like herself, Emokpae, Eze, and others who unapologetically dismissed illustrative,
pretty, or narratively coherent work:
Art to man is not a thing in itself. It is dependent. Paint must be explained
in terms of words and in story-telling words too. Man believes in meaning
that can be expressed by clear and distinct ideas. He fails to realise the fact
that to look for an explicit meaning in art is a fundamental error, based on
a complete misunderstanding of the medium.45
Further on, she states that
Man frowns at Modern Art. It is no use since it has no meaning. It is useless because it is out of keeping with the Old Masters vision. It is art of
the toddlers, Man dismisses carelessly. . . . Sit down my child, your eyes
have not seen as many days as Abraham. Wait till you have stiffened for
fifty more harmattans.46
In these passages, Omogbai, then a twenty-three-year-old Zaria graduate,
responded indirectly but nonetheless forcefully to critics of expressive, nonrealistic, visually disturbing workwork generally and erroneously lumped
under the rubric of abstraction. Her stance against pretty, mimetic, or narrative imagery, her insistence on the individual artists freedom to experiment
with new forms, and her right to question received aesthetic traditions must
be seen as part of the demand by a young generation of artists for fresh,
sophisticated artistic practice, the future of which would be in its hands. That
this new work and criticism sympathetic to it were opposed by older artists,
along with the fact that it was stridently challenged by some emerging critics, testified to a general anxiety it caused in the Lagos art scene of the mid-
1960s. Omogbais essay thus marked the moment when the genie of postcolonial modernism had escaped from the proverbial lamp and taken flight,
ready to confront the past and present in its own voice, poised to assert its
claims to the driving seat of Nigerian art.
I BEGAN THIS CHAPTER by noting the shift that had occurred in the early
1960s when Lagos displaced Ibadan as the center of discourse in contemporary art and culture. Whereas Black Orpheus was the voice of the Ibadan era,
Nigeria magazine, a much older general-interest publication, provided critical space for art discussions in 1960s Lagos.47 It bears emphasizing that the
rise of Nigerian artists and critics as major players in debates on contemporary Nigerian art coincided with the displacement of expatriates who, for the
most part, determined the tone and scope of the discourse in the first years
of independence. As we have seen, Ulli Beier, with his circle of expatriate
friends Gerald Moore, Denis Williams, and Julian Beinart, contributed most
of the art criticism published in Black Orpheus during Beiers editorship.
Nigeria magazine, on the other hand, though also initially dominated by expatriate contributors, expanded its coverage of art criticism and commentary
by Nigerians, especially during the editorship era of Michael Crowder (1960
1962) and, even more so, the Nigerian writer Onuora Nzekwu (b. 1928; editor
19621966). Thus we could argue that if Black Orpheus inaugurated the discourse of postcolonial modernism, Nigeriaafter its makeover as the cultural
magazine of postcolonial Nigeriaprovided the space for its elaboration.
Until Crowders tenure as editor, coverage of contemporary art in Nigeria
was rare. But once Crowder took the helm, while simultaneously serving as
director of the Lagos Exhibition Centre, he marshaled resources toward support of contemporary art, particularly the work of Zaria graduates. Even so,
Nigeria magazine under Crowder, in terms of its contemporary art coverage,
was still eclipsed by Black Orpheus. Everything changed with the arrival of
Nzekwu, whose inaugural novel, A Wand of Noble Wood (1961), joined the
work of Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, and other independence generation
writers in grappling with the consequences of Euro-African cultural conflict
in colonial and postcolonial Africa. From the start of his tenure, besides including a highly influential literary supplement, Nzekwu established a section called Art Gallery, a lively space for short art reviews and commentaries that, in addition to the combative letters-to-the-editor section, captured
the raw, discursive energy of an emerging field. Moreover, apart from featuring art and artists presented at the Exhibition Centre, the Art Gallery
covered events at the galleries of amsac, Mbari Ibadan, and Osogbo, thus
strengthening the magazines position as the leading platform for contemporary art in Nigeria. Looking at the list of post-1962 contributors to the art
pages of Nigeria and in the way it changed from expatriate writing to Nigerian voices, one could reasonably say that Nzekwu gave voice to his fellow
emerging Nigerian artists, writers, and critics as they defined and occupied
the postcolonial modernist mainstream. Put differently, Onuora Nzekwu
irrevocably inaugurated Nigerians effective controlperhaps even decolonizationof the discourse on their own art and literature.48
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THE ACCOUNT THIS CHAPTER gives of the debates surrounding and the developments in Nigerian art in the first half of the 1960s, though necessarily
incomplete, sufficiently maps out the important questions that artists and
critics contended with in Lagos in the immediate postindependence period.
One major development, signaled by the increasing critical discourse in
Nigeria magazine and elsewhere and the founding of the Society of Nigerian Artists, was the simultaneous marginalization of expatriate critics and
the emergence of Nigerian critical voices. In a sense, this was precisely what
Enwonwu had pushed for since the 1956 Black Writers and Artists Congress
at the Sorbonne. Enwonwus Drum essay, intended to elicit responses from
other Nigerian artists and critics, must be seen as a fresh attempt on his part
not so much to suppress emerging artists as to displace entrenched expatriates from the drivers seat of contemporary Nigerian art criticism. The problem was, of course, that as the Nigerianization of art discourse unfolded, it
did not follow the direction he anticipated, due to the emergence of younger
voices resolutely loath to accept his leadership and opposed to his vision of
modernism.
Despite disagreements on stylistic trends and because of increased traffic
in artistic practice and debates, the Lagos and Nigerian public took notice of
this efflorescence, leading to calls for greater visibility of new and emergent
as well as established artists. In fact so popular were such national sentiments that Nzekwu was motivated to publish a historic two-part series, Our
Authors and Performing Artists, in the first half of 1966.49 But the sudden
end of his editorship of Nigeria soon after that series was published also
speaks to the critical juncture at which the newly independent Nigerian nation had arrived that same year. For whereas the celebration of the stars of
Nigerias literary and artistic modernism was an emphatic statement about
the dramatic transformation that had occurred within the short period of
political sovereignty, Nzekwus departure belied the crisis that had engulfed
the new nation, following the first military coup of January 1966 and the subsequent civil war of 19671970.50 In other words, postcolonial modernism
in Nigeria, after riding the euphoric wave of political independence, came
of age at the very moment the nation, weakly constituted as it was, began to
unravel.
Chapter 7
CRISIS I N T HE
POSTCOLONY
THIS FINAL CHAPTER focuses on the work of Uche Okeke and Demas Nwoko,
who combined the search for new formal modes to characterize their defining work with reflections on the deteriorating political conditions of the
Nigerian nation. In my view, the postindependence political crises, the military intervention in 1966, and the civil war all adversely affected the sense
of cultural nationalism that had earlier inspired members of the Art Society
and others of that generation in Ibadan and Lagos. In other words, the resurgence of high-stakes regionalism in the postindependence era left its mark
on the art and culture sector, the most obvious case being the rise of Mbari
Enugu and the unprecedented political art produced by Okeke and Nwoko
between 1965 and 1968. By emphasizing the work of these two artists in
this chapter, I do not wish merely to highlight their status as leading artists
of their generation of postcolonial modernists; rather, I contend that their
work during these years marked a critical moment when postcolonial modernism moved beyond the assertion of artistic autonomy or engagement with
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End of a Dream
Soon after Nigeria became a parliamentary republic in 1963, it began to experience tremendous stress; its constituent regional polities and ethnic nationalities, riven by inter- and intraparty conflicts, contested for power at the
center. Although these tensions were already evident during the late colonial period and had led to the regionalization of the decolonization process,
they became more intense after independence with the exit of the common
enemy, the British Empire. These political crises brought heightened disillusionment and uncertainty about the national project and created mutual distrust among the major ethnic nationalities and fear of the latter by the minor
groups anxious not to be overwhelmed in their own regions. The invariable
result was greater assertion of ethnic and religious differences, which in turn
catalyzed political contestations that troubled an already weak sense of national unity.
Mutual suspicion over tactics and motives among the major ethnic groups
and their allied political parties was manifested, to cite a few important examples, in the rejection of national census numbers in 1962/63, the federal
governments declaration of a state of emergency in the western region during the same period, and massive irregularities during the 1964/65 federal
and regional elections.1 These crises provided further justification for military coups and political assassinations in January and July 1966, which in
turn led to massacres of Igbo civilians in the northern region that September
and the civil war of 196770.2
Nigerias postcolonial predicament had wide-ranging effects on art. For
one, the cultural nationalism that had inspired members of the Art Society
and their colleagues in Ibadan and Lagos was replaced during the middle and
late 1960s by doubt and angst about the role of art and culture in the independent but increasingly distressed nation. Second, anxieties about the fate
of project Nigeria led to the failure of the governments dreams for robust
and effective national art and cultural institutions (led by the Nigerian Council for the Advancement of Art and Culture, Lagos (ncaac), and the Lagos
cultural elite (represented by fsah, the Federal Society of Arts and Humanities). Third, whereas the thrill of political independence did not quite motivate many artists to produce work in praise of the new nation, they were
quick to anticipate and confront, as this chapter relates, the sobering realities
of the unraveling postcolonial body politic.
Mbari Enugu
In 1963 Uche Okeke moved his cultural center, originally established in 1958
in Kafanchan (a northern Nigerian town where his family lived), to Enugu,
the capital of the eastern region. That same year, a group of eastern Nigerian
artists, writers, and playwrights, motivated by the desire for an effective platform for advancing a specifically regional cultural agenda, formed the Mbari
Enugu. They were led in this venture by the Nigerian dramatist John Ekwere
(life dates unknown). Within the next two years, this new alliance made possible unprecedented, dynamic creative interaction between a community of
contemporary dramatists, musical performers, visual artists, writers, and
critics from eastern Nigeria (figures 7.17.3).3 Though conceived as a laboratory for ambitious and experimental art, music, theater, and literature, the
government expected Mbari to catalyze a renaissance in the regions contemporary arts and culture.
As it turned out, the expectation that Mbari Enugu would spur the development of the regions culture and arts became urgent when the eastern region, as the Republic of Biafra, seceded from Nigeria in May 1967.
Many Mbari artists, writers, and dramatists, together with their counterparts
returning from other parts of Nigeria, joined the Arts Section of the Biafran Directorate of Propaganda and took part in cultural workshops directed
by the Nigerian poet and novelist Gabriel Okara (b. 1921). The Arts Section
was led by Uche Okeke, who was assisted by Ogbonnaya Nwagbara, Okekes
former Art Society colleague. At this point the goals of postcolonial modernism in (eastern) Nigeria changed from inventing an aesthetic ideology
informed by the experience of political sovereignty to supporting the young
republic. While a full account of art in Biafra, particularly the work of artists and writers in the cultural workshops, must await a systematic study,
the remarkable transformation of the work of modernism in eastern Nigeria
is strikingly reminiscent of the drastic paradigm change in Euro-American
avant-garde art inauguratedas the art historian Benjamin Buchloh has arguedby the Russian constructivists in the early years of the Russian Revolution.4
261
I begin this last section of the book with two opening lines of Thunder
Can Break, the first poem in Christopher Okigbos collection Path of Thunder. I do so not just to acknowledge this poets remarkable lyric power but
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precisely because these lines telegraphically capture, as only poetry can, the
fragmentation of the postcolony. Okigbo was a founding member of Mbari
Ibadan, and with Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe was an exemplar of the
generation of writers who, like their counterparts in the visual arts, engaged
in debates about form and content in postcolonial literary modernism. As
the literary scholar Obi Nwakanma has noted, the sense of boundless freedom symbolized by political independence inspired the formal experiments
and thematic focus of Okigbos inaugural collection, Heavensgate, completed
in 1961.6 But the political upheavals that began in western Nigeria around
1963 turned Okigbo (who sympathized with the travails of the opposition
party leader Obafemi Awolowo) and other Nigerian writers from mandarins
to militants, in the words of the critic Ben Obumselu.7 Scholars have quarreled over meaning in Okigbos famously cryptic poems, with their allusions
to dizzyingly diverse European, Asian, and African traditions and their eclectic borrowings from classical and contemporary poets, but there is no denying that his Path of Thunder poems, written in 1965 and 1966, are compelling
works of prophetic vision. In them we simultaneously encounter the journey
of a poet toward resolution of an inner personal journey through the sheer
symbolic power of the word and confront a terrifying prophesy of a nation
sliding into chaos, horrific ethnic cleansing, and war. Okigbo, as the literary scholar Dubem Okafor rightly noted, is able to bring together, for compressed poetic treatment, the strands that constitute the messy conjuncture
that was postindependence Nigeria and Africa.8 Two memorable lines from
the poem Come Thunder capture this:
The arrows of God tremble at the gates of light
The drums of curfew pander to a dance of death.9
If Okigbos Path of Thunder prophesied or at least anticipated the cataleptic trauma suffered by a nation at the brink of civil war, Wole Soyinka dissected and analyzed the political crises as they unfolded in his own poetry
and prose. In the suite of poems October 66, written in the wake of the
first military coup (January 1966) and the July countercoup that precipitated
the mass killing of eastern Nigerians living in the north, Soyinka chronicled
or, rather, reflected upon the violence perpetrated on his fellow citizens in
haunting lines. The events of 1966, as his poems seem to affirm, dramatically closed off any residual hope of salvaging the body politic buffeted by the
harsh realities of its postcolonial condition. The desolation of the cosmic and
natural realms invoked, for instance, by the first stanza of Soyinkas Harvest
of Hate is total, yet it powerfully conveys a sense of failure and utter disruption of sociopolitical normative order:
265
Figure 7.4 Uche Okeke, Crucifixion, gouache on paper, 1962. Artists collection. Photo, Obiora
Udechukwu. Uche Okeke.
266
Figure 7.5 Uche Okeke, Primeval Forest, gouache on paper, 1962. Photo, ArtHouse Contemporary Ltd., Lagos.
Uche Okeke.
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Figure 7.6 Uche Okeke, Nativity, oil on board, 1965. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Uche Okeke.
plating Igbo metaphysics and the possibility of using it as a source for deep
meditative works of art. Writing to Nwoko, he stated that he had gone a lot
more metaphysical. . . . I have worked on the theme of Oyoyo and I think
there is rich material for drama of life unborn.12 Oyoyo (also called ogbanje
in Igbo and abiku in Yoruba) refers to certain children who die prematurely
only to return to the same mothers several times because their ties to the
world of the unbornbonds normally severed at birthremain willfully unbroken.13 The prevalence of and enduring belief in the ogbanje phenomenon,
despite the spread of Christianity and Islam, is attested to by its representation in modern literature, theater, and art, the best-known ogbanje character
being, perhaps, Okonkwos daughter Ezinma in Achebes Things Fall Apart.14
In turning to such subject matter, therefore, Okeke, like many of his contemporaries, contemplated an aspect of indigenous cultures at odds with the
Christian as well as the modern secular worldview. Oyoyo, in a way, marks
his return to the persistent question of cultural conflict in societies that, as a
result of the colonial encounter, had come under the hegemony of Christian
Europe and its cultures.15
In this painting, several awkwardly drawn and deformed figures cower
behind towering, ancient trees in the deep shadows of the forest, their atten-
Figure 7.7 Uche Okeke, Adam and Eve, oil on board, 1965. Artists collection. Photo, the author. Uche Okeke.
Figure 7.8 Uche Okeke, Oyoyo, oil on board, 1965. Artists collection. Photo, the author. Uche Okeke.
tion focused on the ogbanje figure rendered in brilliant yellow, with her back
turned to the viewer as though she stands at the threshold of the worlds of the
living and the dead.16 Except for the figure squatting in the foreground with
its hands covering its face, the others gaze with curiosity at the ogbanje. The
preternatural light of this nocturnal scene, along with the fawning, spectral
figures, conveys a feeling of tragic, inexorable metaphysical drama that the
viewerstanding in for the distraught and powerless family of the ogbanje
is condemned to watch. This onerous burden, it seems to me, is the key to
the covert meaning of this work.
While Okeke did not explicitly make this connection, it seemshere I rely
on the salience of the theory of intentional fallacygiven the other works he
was making at this time, that Oyoyo might in fact also be about Nigeria. I am
thinking here of the newly born nation that had suddenly developed signs
of sickness and, by 1965, could either miraculously turn around toward the
living or simply continue on its death-bound journey, lured by bewildering
powerful forces, just like the ogbanje figure in Oyoyo. The yellow figure in the
foreground is, to put it differently, poised at the threshold of being, simultaneously pulled by incommensurate opposing forces of coherence and disintegration, of life and death. This idea of (the nation as) the born-to-die figure
implicated in multiple cycles of hope and despair resonates with the last
sequence of Elegy for Alto, Okigbos final poem in Path of Thunder, written
just about the time Okeke painted Oyoyo:
An old star departs, leaves us here on the shore
Gazing heavenward for a new star approaching;
The new star appears, foreshadows its going
Before a going and coming that goes on forever. . . .17
To be sure, the literary scholar Mounira Soliman has argued that the ogbanje phenomenon has been deployed by West African writerswho mine its
implied concept of reincarnation and its antagonism of existential orders
to project different socio-political agendas at different times in the history
of their countries.18 In Ben Okris The Famished Road (1991), Ade, a friend
of Azaro, the ogbanje and central character in the novel, likened fictional
Nigeria to the ogbanje/abiku, which, Like the spirit child, keeps coming and
going. One day it will decide to remain. It will become strong.19 But where
Soliman locates the political ideology of Wole Soyinkas abiku in the tension
between collectivity or the tradition of the family (representing the body politic) and individualism or the self-determination of the abiku, Okekes ogbanje
is the nation itself that must decide either to return to the sensate world of
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resolution. That moment would soon be followed by a more devastating display of even greater violence by the invading alien culture and regime. Although Okeke had already represented this subject in an Uli-inspired drawing published in the 1962 African Writers Series edition of Things Fall Apart,
his ambitious return in 1965 to this particular moment of conflict in the
novel, by way of his 1965 painting, is significant.21 One way to make sense
of this choice is to suppose that although the people of Umuofia lost the war
with the colonizers, the one raging instance during which the community
demonstrated its refusal to surrender its freedom without a fight presented
to Okeke a model of collective action for a society whose survival is threatened by overwhelming outside forces. In that climactic episode, the people
of Umuofia courageously provide a firm answer to the haunting question
that Okigbo asked in the fifth section of his Lament of the Silent Sisters:
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And how does one say no in thunder?22 In painting this subject, therefore,
Okeke memorializes that singular imaginary act of popular resistance and
returns it, if only symbolically, to the oral history of the Igbo people, whose
complex sociopolitical organization and practices Achebe had reconstructed
through the fictive narrative of Things Fall Apart.
But if Okekes Conflict was based on a work of fiction, Aba Revolt (Womens
War; 1965) reimagines an actual historical event; namely, the revolutionary action in 1929 by women in eastern Nigeria against the colonial regime
(figure 7.10). When Okeke conceived his picture, contemporary political developments had all but eclipsed the momentousness of the Womens War, yet
the event nevertheless had become a popular episode in modern Igbo folklore. Described in colonial literature as the Aba Riots, as if to reinforce the
false stereotype of Africans as unruly, the phrase was also likely to elide the
fact that the first major organized challenge to the well-established southern
Nigerian colonial regime was conceived and promulgated by women. Such a
mass revolt nevertheless spoke to the uniqueness of Igbo society, particularly
the power wielded by Igbo women, at least until the institution of a modern patriarchal society.23 Okekes pictorial account is in fact an exercise in
visual mythopoesis, which is made obvious by the depiction of the leader of
the women in the left foreground as Nwanyi Mgbolodala, a legendary Igbo
Amazon remembered for her powerful, gigantic breasts. This conflation of
characters not only connects modern Igbo political history to a deep past, it
also amplifies and elevates the action of the leader of the Womens War to the
status of myth.24 That is to say, Okeke extends the significance of that event
beyond its temporal specificity and instead proposes it as a model of ethical and radical action for all time. To be sure, the scene depicted in Conflict
presents the Womens War of 1929 as a heroic, even if ultimately unsuccessful, last-ditch refusal by Igbo womenrecalling the Egwugwu-led confrontation by the Umuofia peopleto hand over their destinies to the invading
Europeans without a fight. In this sense, these pictures, seen against the
background of heady regional politics of the 1960s, come across as subtle
yet powerful enunciations of Igbo nationalism that, a few years later, would
catalyze the Biafran secession from Nigeria.25
Compositionally, the monumental figures of the protesting women
occupy a shallow pictorial space, effectively conveying a sense of impending, even if briefly frozen, violent action. Their spiked hair, contorted expressions, and powerfully deformed bodies and the missile-shaped left arm of the
womens leader (to the left), combined with the crude, expressionist brushwork and the accents of flaming red paint all over the picture, coalesce in a
disturbing and compelling image. Okekes intention, it seems quite obvious,
Figure 7.10 Uche Okeke, Aba Revolt (Womens War), oil on board, 1965. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Uche Okeke.
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276
was not to create a pretty picture; rather, the energy evoked by the facture
and style of the painting comes close to articulating the dangerous powers
unleashed by the irate women.
The deployment of naked womens bodies in this work complicates,
though it does not refute, any claims one might make for it as a history painting. While ethnographically plausible, given that Igbo women routinely wore
only waist wrappers in the early twentieth century, Okeke more crucially invoked a powerful imagery that may not have been mobilized in the Womens
War of 1929 but which is well known in many African cultures as a sublime
biopolitical weapon: the naked womans body.26 Generally described as the
curse of nakedness, the grave flaunting of especially postmenopausal naked
bodies is considered by the Igbo the ultimate means of seeking justice, particularly when the communitys well-being is threatened by the nefarious
action of (usually male) individuals or corporate entities. The logic seems
to be that such demonstrations remind everyone of the connection between
the procreative power of the womans body and the survival of human populations; between the autohumiliated, exposed body and the rupturing of cosmic order, which can result in death or madness for the victim of the curse.
Clearly then, Okekes painting links the Womens War, perhaps even argues
that its effectiveness must be connected, to the curse of nakedness, which remains today one of the rarest, most dreaded expressions of collective outrage
by African women on behalf of their communities.
It is tempting, moreover, to think that Okeke used the performance of
the aggressive and violent Mgbedike-type masquerade, traditionally owned
by warrior-grade men in the north-central Igbo area (or even the more terrifying and ritually potent Egwugwu), as a visual model for this painting.
The large beastly masks, fortified with powerful charms and often wielding weapons that could be used against rivals or irreverent spectatorsas
memorably presented in Herbert M. Coles documentary video Beauty and
the Beastembody the untamable power of wild spirits and animals.27 In
their study of Igbo masks, Herbert Cole and Chike Aniakor have noted that
these masks, as personifications of strength, bravery, and virility, project
the ideals of middle-age men in a theatrical context.28 But let us emphasize that the aggressive power projected by the Mgbedike-type masks in this
painting is equally a theatrical surrogate for the crucial work of the age-grade
associations that owned such masks in the past, which is primarily to wage
war and protect the community. Thus the symbolic, visual, and dramatic
gestures associated with the mask are supreme displays, a kind of dramaturgical memorialization of a communitys confidence in its warrior grades
long after it has lost its sovereignty to the modern nation-state and well after
such indigenous military institutions transformed into social clubs known
for their masked displays and community development projects. It is in these
masking and similar dance events that we can find the Igbo performative
iconography of war, and it is to them, it seems to me, that Okeke sourced
the dramatic tenorachieved through the bulky figuration, the intimidating
gesture of raised arms, and the surge of closely packed figures toward the picture planeof Aba Revolt (Womens War).
In conflating the curse of nakedness associated with the biopolitics of
womens bodies and the aggressive violence of male masks, therefore, Okeke
invokes two powerful resources available in the Igbo world for administration
of justice and defense of the community against oppressive alien forces. Seen
in this light, the figures of Egwugwu in Conflict and half-naked women in
Aba Revolt are one and the same: embodied terrifying power deployed for the
defense of a community whose very sovereignty is under attack. Combined
with the anxiety signified by the artists expressive figural mode and painting
style, the subject matter of Aba Revolt and Conflict testify to a troubled colonial past and insinuate the gathering crisis in the postcolony.
A similar stylistic transformation such as the one that occurred in Okekes
paintings in 1965 played out in Nwokos work in 1967 and 1968, at the onset of the civil war. Unlike most Igbo who fled the western and northern regions to go back to their homelands in the east, Nwoko, a staunch believer in
the Nigerian national imaginary, remained in Ibadan, the central city of the
western region, throughout the war.29 Remarkably, he produced several key
works during this period, in addition to commencing work on his first and
best-known architectural projects: the design and construction of the New
Culture Studios and the Benedictine monastery in Ibadan.30 For instance, in
the wake of the coups and pogroms of 1966 and the initial hostilities of the
civil war, Nwoko in his painting and sculpture pushed even further his penchant for figural caricature, which in fact revealed an attitude that, on closer
reading, constituted a form of critical commentary on contemporary politics.
On Nwokos use of the disfigured or caricatured form as a formal device, note
that whereas his late Zaria work suggests a dark comedic view of political
(Nigeria in 1959) or genre/personal subject matter (Bathing Women; see ch. 3,
figures 3.15 and 3.17), the Paris paintings project a parodic vision of the citys
residents and the biblical primordial couple (illustrated in ch. 5), and in the
late 1960s work, his figuration, characterized by greater deformation, implies an indictment of humanitys tragic imperfections, which had brought
on the catastrophic crisis into which the Nigerian nation was plunged.
27 7
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Although Nwokos work covered a wide range of subjects, his crisis paintings of 1967his last significant pictures before he turned his full attention
to architecture and furniture designare remarkably unified by an unprecedented preponderance of red and yellow cadmiums in his palette. It is as if he
wished to emphatically assert the relationship between his palette, the subject matter of his painting, and the bloodletting of the pogroms and conflagrations of civil war. This is most evident in two paintings from 1967, Crisis
and Hunter in a War Scene. It is not important, it seems to me, whether or
not these pictures were painted after the first shots of the war were fired in
May of that year, for there is no significant difference, in terms of the traumatic effect on noncombatantswomen and childrenbetween the spectacular violence of the civilian massacres of 1966 and the equally vicious tactics employed by soldiers on both sides of the hostilities. What is crucial to
understanding Nwokos critical enterprise, as these works attest, is that he
also makes the connection between the intervention of the military in Nigerian politics, the devastation of the population, and the fraying of the fragile
bonds of nationhood.
Crisis shows several terror-stricken, half-naked, wide-eyed women and
children fleeing a scene of horror, the sources of their panic somewhere beyond the picture plane (figure 7.11). A few of the women support their drooping breastsreminiscent of Okekes warring womenwith their hands, in
an enigmatic gesture that must symbolize their state of frightening emergency. Nevertheless, Nwoko seems concerned with the human condition in
a general sense rather than committed to depicting particular histories or accounts of the Nigerian crisis. He achieves this by presenting a mise-en-scne
of stereotypical victimhoodfrightened, nonethnically located women and
children in an unidentifiable non-place, like actors on a bare stage. It is not
so much that he is unwilling to identify the scene of the crisis, which would
help identify the victim and the villain, the aggressor and the aggressed;
rather, he seems concerned less with taking sides in the unfolding Nigerian
crisis than with identifying with the helpless recipients of violence wherever
the crisis plays out across the regional borders.
This same tendency to draw on the experience of the civil war to make a
universal comment on the horrors of armed conflict is evident in Hunter in
a War Scene, in which a thin, naked man sits in an arid red field, his hunting
gun by his side, as he contemplates the horror all around him (figure 7.12).
Scattered within the picture plane are flat, floating anthropomorphic shapes
representing dead people and iconic notations of desiccated vegetation and a
network of thorns. But what is the painting about? What does a hunter have
Figure 7.11 Demas Nwoko, Crisis, oil on board, 1967. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
to do with war and the killing of men rather than wild animals? According
to Nwoko, the painting was inspired by a scene he observed at Nsukka, the
first major theater of the Biafran War. Against the better-equipped national
army, the ragtag Biafran troops, armed with Dane guns and machetes, were
decimated; a lone surviving fighter was found among the dead, dazed by the
imponderable carnage he had just witnessed. But while the painting may
be a putative record of an observed postbattle scene, it reveals something
of Nwokos estimation of Biafra, faced as it was by a superior national army
backed by global powers, as an impossible idea that could only invite the
desolation of the breakaway republic. Moreover, the futility of a war of independence executed by civilian conscripts against a more powerful professional army, along with the national armys savage tactics, made the senselessness of war itself all the more apparent, as this work suggests. Here we
are reminded of the surreal encounter, suffused with potential violence, in
the last stanza of Wole Soyinkas poem Civilian and Soldier:
I hope some day
Intent upon my trade of living, to be checked
In stride by your apparition in a trench,
Signalling, I am a soldier. No hesitation then
But I will shoot you clean and fair
With meat and bread, a gourd of wine
A bunch of breasts from either arm, and that
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Figure 7.12 Demas Nwoko, Hunter in a War Scene, oil on board, 1967. Artists collection. Photo, the
author. Demas Nwoko.
Figure 7.13
Demas Nwoko,
Combatant I, oil on
board, 1967. Artists
collection. Photo, the
author. Demas Nwoko.
Figure 7.14 Demas Nwoko, Combatant II, oil on board, 1967. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
283
ious optimism about the dividends of sovereignty, Soldier marks the crumbling of the progressive, if already fragile, national imaginaries that funded
cultural and political work of the early 1960s and the inaugural terrors of the
postcolony presided over by the military. Second, these two works are important signposts in Nwokos and Nigerias postcolonial modernism. If, as
chapter 3 contended, the visual rhetoric of Nigeria in 1959 is deeply inflected
by the young artists encounter with the work of the early twentieth-century
European avant-garde, Soldier emerges from a stylistic detourcatalyzed by
the theory of natural synthesisthat is characterized by appropriation and
sublimation of the formal protocols of ancient Nok sculpture, a critical process at the core of what Nwoko and his colleagues anticipated from successful cultural decolonization.
Figure 7.15 Demas Nwoko, Soldier (Soja), front view, terra-cotta, 1968. Artists collection. Photo,
Demas Nwoko. Demas Nwoko.
285
Conclusion
As this, the final chapter makes plain, Uche Okeke and Demas Nwokos work
in the late 1960s raised the stakes and expanded the meaning of the political
in postcolonial modernism. In other words, whereas political engagement by
their generation of artists had previously revolved around claiming freedom
for self-narration and developing a postcolonial artistic language, it now included prognostications on and critical analyses of the distressed body politic. While this latter task had been taken up earlier by a few contemporary
dramatists and writershere Hubert Ogundes Bread and Bullet (1949) and
Yoruba Ronu (1964)33 and Wole Soyinkas Dance of the Forests come to mind
286
Figure 7.18 Demas Nwoko, Dancing Couple (Owambe), terra-cotta, 1968. Artists collection. Photo, the author.
Demas Nwoko.
Chapter 7
288
Nwoko and Okeke heralded a new visual politics that simultaneously marked
the full immersion of modern Nigerian art in the unruly politics of the postcolony. This body of work, to be sure, emphatically fulfills the objective of the
Art Society a decade before, which is the participation of the Nigerian artist in articulating the symbolic production of the postcolonial self in all its
complexities and contradictions; and, as Aina Onabolu did decades before,
Nwoko and Okeke boldly asserted in these late-1960s paintings and sculptures, with greater vigor, the right to decide the language and tone of their
own critical self-assertion.
There is no doubt, though, that the apparent reformulation by Okeke and
Nwoko of the role of art in the postcolonial state raises a fundamental question about the very nature and meaning of postcolonial modernism. Here is
the problem; if, as I argue throughout this book, postcolonial modernism
was an argument for self-making in the context of the decolonizing nation,
might we say that once the relationship between the artist and the postcolonial state changes, as indexed in Okekes and Nwokos work described in this
chapter, does it still make sense to lump this new work with the work preceding it? I propose that by becoming critical of the affairs of the postcolony
soon after willing it into existence, Okeke and Nwoko expanded the work of
postcolonial modernism and thus realized the full implication of mbari, the
name (cf. chapter 4) Achebe gave the collective of writers, artists, dramatists,
and critics established in Ibadan in 1961. The Igbo mbari thus provides a fitting conceptual model for postcolonial modernism in all its varied stylistic
and thematic manifestations. But how can this be?
Let us note that although the Igbo mbari was a monument to Ala and
other deities and a celebration of a communitys achievements, it included,
as Chinua Achebe has noted, all significant encounters which man has in
his journey through life, especially new, unaccustomed, and thus potentially
threatening encounters.34 In other words, in celebrating the gods and the
human society, the mbari artists featured magnificent portraits of the gods
and heroes and symbols of progress but also figures of disruptive forces
terrifying diseases, colonial forces, abominable charactersthat must be
confronted, neutralized, or appeased as part of the ritual of social renewal.
The artists engaged in sheer display of artistic skill and vision, visualized
the aspirations of the imagined community, and flagged moments, sites,
and agents of social disorder. This sense that mbari artists conceived of their
work as celebration and critique but also as a platform for expression of individual desires and collective imaginaries suggests a productive way of thinking of the relationship between the postcolonial modernist and the nation.
Whether it is the exploration of new and exciting visual language or the depiction of folklore and mythological subjects, genre themes and allegories of
sociopolitical fragmentation, or commentary on colonial power relations and
critique of postcolonial violence and dysfunction, the work of the artists discussed in this bookfrom Bruce Onobrakpeya to Erhabor Emokpae, from
Colette Omogbai to Ibrahim El Salahi, from Demas Nwoko to Jimo Akolo,
from Simon Okeke to Uche Okeke, among otherscould have easily found
a place in the Igbo mbari complex. And just as, according to Achebe, the
celebration of mbari was no blind adoration of a perfect world or even a good
world . . . an acknowledgment of the world as these particular inhabitants
perceived it in reality, in their dreams and their imagination,35 postcolonial
modernisms relationship with the nation was one of critical examination of
and commentary on the cultural and political dynamics of late colonialism
and the postindependence period.
In the end, what the work detailed in this book tells us is that during the
mid-twentieth century, nationalism and decolonization as ideas and practices in Nigeria andas we now knowother parts of Africa and beyond,
were primal catalysts of a short-lived yet historically significant, complex,
tangled, multilayered, and fraught artistic modernism.
289
NOTES
Introduction
1. For similar arguments, see Kapur, When Was Modernism, and Harney, In Senghors Shadow.
2. See, e.g., Vogel, Africa Explores.
3. See Okeke, The Quest, 4175, and Ottenberg, New Traditions and The Nsukka
Artists.
4. See Godwin and Hopwood, Architecture of Demas Nwoko; Okoye, Nigerian Architecture, 2942.
5. See Enwezor and Okeke-Agulu, Contemporary African Art.
6. See Beier, Contemporary Art in Africa; Mount, African Art; and Kennedy, New
Currents.
7. See Enwezor, The Short Century.
8. See Fagg and Plass, African Sculpture, 6.
9. See Hassan, The Modernist Experience in African Art, 216.
10. Araeen, Modernity, Modernism, 278.
11. Shohat and Stam, Narrativizing Visual Culture, 28.
12. Bhabha, Location of Culture, 122.
13. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 114116.
14. Nkrumah, Autobiography, 5263.
15. Nkrumah defines consciencism as the map in intellectual terms of the disposition of forces which will enable African society to digest the Western and the
Islamic and the Euro-Christian element[s] of Africa, and develop them in such a
way that they fit the African personality. The African personality itself is defined
by the cluster of humanist principles which underlie the traditional African society. See Nkrumah, Consciencism, 79.
16. Taylor, Two Theories of Modernity, 183.
17. John S. Mbiti famously asserted the status of the individual in Africa with the
Notes to Chapter 1
292
dictum, I am because we are; and since we are, therefore I am. See Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, 109. The tenability of this assertion has for years
been a matter of intense philosophical debate. But there is ample evidence from
popular sayings, proverbs, and aphorisms of diverse African peoples to suggest
that individual subjectivity is for the most part strongly linked to an awareness
of its dependence on a network of relations with other human and metaphysical
beings.
18. Shutte, Philosophy for Africa, 47.
19. See Achebe, Arrow of God, 234,
20. Drewal, Memory and Agency, 242243.
21. Jeyifo, Perspectives on Wole Soyinka, 117.
22. See Appiah, Postcolonial and the Postmodern, 62.
23. Italics added. See Young, Postcolonialism, 57.
24. Moore-Gilbert, Postcolonial Modernism, 551.
25. See my Politics of Form, 6786.
Notes to Chapter 1
of his liberal culture and attainments, and lastly prove conclusively that Sir Frederick Lugards infernal rule in Nigeria is nothing short of a policy of military
terrorism, of subordination and domination which are at variance with the cherished traditions of British Imperial rule. See Amritsar and Ijemo: A Parallel
and Suggestion, Lagos Weekly Record, August 7, 1920, 5.
14. Amritsar and Ijemo: A Parallel and Suggestion, Lagos Weekly Record, August 7,
1920, 5.
15. Margery Perham, Lugard, 491. The first radical nationalist northern politicians,
including Aminu Kano, the leader of the Northern Elements Progressive Union,
and Saad Zungur of the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons, were
also among the first northerners with postsecondary education. See Coleman,
Backgrounds to Nigerian Nationalism, 356.
16. Mbembe, Provisional Notes on the Postcolony, 12.
17. See Perham, Lugard, 491.
18. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 3746.
19. Olusanya, Henry Carr and Herbert Macaulay, 282.
20. As Judith Byfield shows, some elite women in Lagos also defended polygamy,
wore traditional dress, and criticized the economic disempowerment of women
because of Christian marriage and new ideals of respectable womanhood. See
Byfield, Unwrapping Nationalism, 12. See also Mann, Marrying Well, 8991.
21. Webster, The African Churches, 255.
22. Whitehall is a colloquial reference to the seat of the British government.
23. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 8081.
24. Afigbos The Warrant Chiefs is an excellent account of the impact of the so-called
warrant chiefs invented by the colonial administration among the Igbo, a people
known for their fierce political independence and distrust of authoritarian government. Disdain for these warrant chiefs and the colonial regime coalesced
into the popular uprising by women (the Aba Womens War) in eastern Nigeria
in 1929.
25. See Perham, Colonial Sequence, 143.
26. Perham, Colonial Sequence, 86.
27. For a description of the difficulties faced by Lugard upon rejection of his request
by the Colonial Office, see Osuntokun, Lagos and Political Awareness, 267
272. James Bright Davies, the editor of the Times of Nigeria, for instance, accused
Lugard of rancorous negrophobism, which was responsible for the natives apparent sympathy for the Germans. Because of this, Davies served a six-month
jail sentence that raised his popularity as a champion of political independence.
28. Perham, Colonial Reckoning, 34.
29. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 460.
30. See Lyons, Evolutionary Ideas, 123.
31. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 433. My emphasis.
32. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 435.
33. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 452.
34. Lugard, Dual Mandate, 439.
293
Notes to Chapter 2
294
Notes to Chapter 2
8. Dosumu, Preface.
9. Quoted from Oloidi, Art and Nationalism in Colonial Nigeria, 193.
10. Onabolus students and admirers called him Nigerias Joshua Reynolds and
Mr. Perspective.
11. Kapur, When Was Modernism, 145178.
12. Onabolu taught at the C.M.S. Grammar School, Wesleyan Boys High School
(later called Methodist Boys High School), Eko Boys High School, Kings College,
and Christ Church Cathedral School, Lagos. He also taught private art classes for
most of his career.
13. Onabolu, Short Discourse, 8.
14. Araeen, Modernity, 278.
15. Letter from Kenneth Murray to E. R. J. Hussey, January 27, 1933. For his disapproval of art professionalization in the English sense, see Murray to Arthur
Mayhew, October 11, 1932. Kenneth Murray Archive, National Museum Library,
Lagos.
16. Murray, Art Courses for Africans, 1021.
17. Murray, Art Courses for Africans, 1021.
18. Murray does not indicate the specific text(s) by Barton to which he referred. But
these notes are consistent with the ideas Barton expressed in his six-part series
on modern art, to be discussed shortly. See the typewritten page titled J. E. Barton on Art in Education for Citizenship, Kenneth Murray Archive, National
Museum Library, Lagos.
19. Ogbechie, Ben Enwonwu, 42.
20. Fry, Sensibility versus Mechanism, 497499.
21. Barton, Purpose and Admiration.
22. Coomaraswamy, The Dance of iva, 21
23. Delange and Fry, Introduction, 7.
24. Murray, Exhibition of Wood-Carvings, 1215.
25. Rothenstein, Whither Painting?, 1115.
26. Ogbechie, Ben Enwonwu, 44. Similarly, Ola Oloidi (in Art and Nationalism,
194, n. 9) states: Murrays admirable teaching ideology went hand-in-hand with
his vocal and dissenting response to the current European attitude towards Nigerian antiquities. Here, I think, is the problem with the current assessment of
Murrays contribution to Nigerias art history: there is an unwillingness to separate his work as a teacher of modern art from his work as a visionary ethnographer and museologist noted for his dogged, ultimately successful campaign to
establish a Nigerian national ethnographic museum.
27. Murray, Arts and Crafts, 156.
28. Murray, Arts and Crafts, 157.
29. Murray, Arts and Crafts, 162.
30. See von Sydow, African Sculpture, 210227. The last section (225227) begins
with a question: Is there a Renaissance of African Art in Africa?
31. Von Sydow, African Sculpture, 226.
32. See Stevens, Future of African Art, 150160. Stevens also helped compile the
295
Notes to Chapter 3
296
book Arts of West Africa, published in 1935 as a textbook of sorts for art teachers in need of models of traditional West African art. In his introduction to the
book, Sir William Rothenstein reiterated the need to salvage the dying arts of
West Africa for the regions future artists, who would have to rely on the art of
their ancestors to create an authentic African art: How can the little that still
survives of the old vision and cunning of hand be preserved in Africa, and how
should they be continued? See Rothenstein, Introduction, ixxi.
33. Hiller, Editors Foreword, in The Myth of Primitivism, 1.
34. Olu Oguibes assessment of Murrays work, in the context of modern Nigerian
art, is an exception. See Oguibe, Appropriation as Nationalism, 243259.
35. MacRow, Art Club, 250257.
36. Osula, Nigerian Art, 244251.
37. Osula, Nigerian Art, 245247.
38. Osula, Nigerian Art, 249.
39. Danford, a sculptor, created the Emotan statue at the Obas Market in Benin City.
The figure, rendered in the classic academic mode, portrays the legendary Benin
Queen.
40. Danford, Nigerian Art, 155.
41. Duerden, Is There a Nigerian Style of Painting?, 5159.
42. Duerden, Is There a Nigerian Style of Painting?, 59.
43. Taiwo, How Colonialism Preempted Modernity, 8.
Notes to Chapter 3
6. Registrar to the assistant principal, Zaria branch, May 2, 1958. ncast files, dfa-
abuz.
7. Acting permanent secretary, Ministry of Education to the registrar, May 25,
1958. ncast files, dfa-abuz.
8. See Matchets Diary, West Africa (April 10, 1954): 323.
9. N. B. S. Talk Series: The Development and Teaching of Art, undated typescript, 1. ncast files, dfa-abuz.
10. N. B. S. Talk Series, 2.
11. On this topic, see Kapur, When Was Modernism, 111; Karnouk, Modern Egyptian
Art, 1.
12. Details of the excursion to southern Nigeria by Zaria teachers and students and
the courses offered by de Monchaux are from Uche Okekes diary entries and information de Monchaux provided me (via e-mail) on December 8, 2010. At the
Asele Institute, Nimo, in August 2002, Okeke gave me full access to his 1957
1965 diaries. See Okeke, Extracts, 270289.
13. Frith was a former student of Victor Pasmore at Camberwell, the bastion of the
Euston Road School that at one time had William Coldstream as head of a team
that included Lawrence Gowing, Claude Rogers, and William Townsend.
14. Frith met Lambert and her first husband, the composer Constant Lambert,
through a mutual friend, Michael Ayrton. They became close after Isabel married Friths good friend Alan Rawsthorne. Frith provided this information to me
via e-mail on February 2, 2011. For further information on Lambert (aka Isabel
Rawsthorne), see Jacobi, Cats Cradle, 293314.
15. Sir Julian Huxleys reply to Clifford Frith, January 25, 1962. ncast files, dfa-
abuz.
16. Letter and recommendation from Clifford Frith to the principal, N. S. Alexander,
February 14, 1962. ncast files, dfa-abuz.
17. Memorandum, Teaching the History of Art in the University of Northern Nigeria, signed by Donald Hope on May 19 and Eric Taylor on May 21, 1962. ncast
files, dfa-abuz.
18. See Enwonwu, Problems of the African Artist, 435.
19. The exhibition Paintings by Nigerian Schoolboys appears to have traveled to other
venues between 1957 and 1958. A copy of this press release is in Akolos file
in the Harmon Foundation Collection. Library of Congress, Washington, DC,
Manuscript Division, Harmon Foundation Collection, African Artists, Box 83,
Jima [sic] Akolo.
20. Like U. Okeke, Nwoko, and Onobrakpeya, Grillo had already distinguished himself
as a young artist, having won medals and certificates in the Nigerian Festival of the
Arts for three consecutive years. For his part, Olaosebikan, a schoolmate of Akolo
at Government College, Keffi, was also mentored by Dennis Duerden. Quite likely,
Akolo, who himself did not become a member of the society, may have pulled
Olaosebikan into the Art Society groups circle. On the other hand, Simon Okeke,
like Uche Okeke, came from the Awka district, in the eastern region.
21. Odita and Osadebe were in the same art class with Nwoko under the legendary
297
Notes to Chapter 3
298
teacher Roland Ndefo (19241999) at Merchants of Light School, Oba. In the fall
of 1960, Ikpomwosa Omagie (life dates unknown) joined the society, making
her the groups only female member. From every indication, she did not complete the diploma course.
22. On February 9, 1959, Simon Okeke resigned the presidency of the Art Society.
The next day, Uche Okeke replaced him; William Olaosebikan became the secretary. In 1960, Okechukwu Odita became the secretary after the graduation of
Olaosebikan, Yusuf Grillo, and Simon Okeke.
23. See J. I. Vaatsough, Students Activities, Nigercol (May 1960): 23.
24. The issues ran from May 1958 to May 1961, the year the Art Society and the college disbanded.
25. In his diary entry of January 15, 1960, Okeke stated, in response to Mr. Friths
talk about affiliation with Goldsmiths: I can foresee the danger of a European
Art Empire in the nearest future if something drastic is not done soon enough.
Our local condition, materials etc should be taken into account should truly
national art be evolved in this space age.
26. See Mphahlele, Dilemma of the African Elite, 324.
27. See Okeke, Extracts, 289.
28. Karnouk, Modern Egyptian Art, 2.
29. Geeta Kapur uses this term to refer to the work of progressive Indian modernists between the 1940s and 1960s, including F. N. Souza, Akbar Padamsee, Tyeb
Mehta, and Jeram Patel. See Kapur, When Was Modernism, 272, n. 11.
30. Okeke, Art in Development, 1. Italics are mine.
31. Okeke, Art in Development, 2.
32. Okeke, Art in Development, 2.
33. Okeke, Art in Development, 2.
34. See Jules-Rosette, Black Paris, 65.
35. Sartre, Black Orpheus, 21.
36. Okeke, Art in Development, 2.
37. For extracts from Blydens speech, see Legum, Pan-Africanism, 263265.
38. Legum, Pan-Africanism, 263265.
39. Legum, Pan-Africanism, 265.
40. See Okafor, Development of Universities in Nigeria, 17.
41. See Csaire, Discourse on Colonialism, 98.
42. Csaire, Discourse on Colonialism, 9192.
43. Allen, Introduction, 308.
44. Csaire, Discourse on Colonialism, 90.
45. See Harney, The cole de Dakar, 18.
46. Fanon, On National Culture, 173.
47. Fanon, On National Culture, 174.
48. Demas Nwoko, taped interview with the author, in the presence of Uche Okeke.
Idumuje-Ugboko, Nigeria, August 21, 2002.
49. Okeke titled this work Beggardom at the time he painted it, as his diary notes indicate. Jumaa refers to the Friday Muslim religious service.
Notes to Chapter 4
50. On March 15, 1961, Okeke noted in his diary: Worked on my painting 'Anammuo.' A purely experimental piece. It is a beginning of a fight which may be life-
long! My love for pure linear effects and shapes (abstract shapes) should be from
now on fully exploited. I should study more closely our traditional mural decoration style. Awka Division [the administrative region to which his hometown,
Nimo, belonged] has a good many examples of these decorations. I should more
markedly show my contempt for mere superficiality inherent in naturalism. As
far as that goes I am all out for my ancestral heritage!
51. In 1956, before enrolling in the ncast, he worked as a curatorial assistant at the
Jos Museum and was therefore quite familiar with its collections.
52. Some of these drawings accompanied his essay in Nigercol, and more were included in a monograph published in 1962 by Mbari Publications.
53. This second work, listed as Beggars, is illustrated in Mount, African Art, 141.
54. See Darah and Quel, eds., Bruce Onobrakpeya, 31.
55. Goldwater, Primitivism in Modern Art, 346.
56. Frith ventured into abstraction while studying under Victor Pasmore at Camberwell School of Art and Crafts (now Camberwell College of Arts, a branch of the
University of the Arts, London). At Zaria he continued with abstraction alongside his better-known figurative work.
57. Jimo Akolo, taped interview with the author, Zaria, August 10, 2002.
58. See Socit africaine de culture, Report of the Commission of the Arts, 456.
59. See Crowder, Nigerias Artists Emerge, 30.
299
Notes to Chapter 4
300
Notes to Chapter 4
27. In a letter to the Federal Minister of Education dated July 29, 1960, Enwonwu
stated that the Ministry of Commerce and Industry had decided to dispense
with his services in connection with the exhibition of Arts and Crafts . . . and
[they] have preferred a European who is not an artist to undertake the Exhibition
Organization. Ben Enwonwu to the Hon. Aja Nwachukwu, M.H.R., Minister of
Education, Nigerian Arts Council folder, Kenneth C. Murray archives, National
Museum, Lagos.
28. Okeke designed the main mural on the front wall, while Onobrakpeya and
Nwoko designed murals along the pavilions covered way and the craftsmens
section, respectively. C. Mitchell and Company, a media firm, commissioned
Yusuf Grillo to design a mural on the theme of Nigerian agricultural products.
29. In his diary report on the interview, Okeke wrote this statement in quotation
marks.
30. In discussions while they were executing the mural projects at the arts and crafts
pavilion, Okeke and Nwoko (and sometimes Onobrakpeya) expressed resentment at the high-handedness of the arts council officials, particularly the chair,
Nora Majekodunmi.
31. Enwonwu, African Art in Danger, 16.
32. As the next two chapters will show, these contestations, particularly between Enwonwu and younger Nigerian artists, had become more clearly defined by the
middle of the 1960s.
33. For an illustration of this section of Nwokos mural, see Beier, Contemporary
Nigerian Art, 31.
34. Throughout his career, Enwonwus formal style vacillated between realismas
in most of his landscape paintings and portraitsand a figural stylization evident in many of his dance series and in large-scale compositions, such as his
Beauty and the Beast, 1961.
35. Idubor ran a well-known studio; several of his apprentices later established successful careers. Among them was his brother, Francis Osague (b. 1941), and Osagie Osifo (b. 1939), who were also represented in the exhibition.
36. Beier, Contemporary Nigerian Art, 31.
37. Beier, Contemporary Nigerian Art, 27.
38. Beier, Contemporary Nigerian Art, 3031.
39. Beier, Contemporary Nigerian Art, 51.
40. Beier, Contemporary Nigerian Art, 51.
41. The need for this space assumed new urgency when the organizers of the Nigerian independence celebrations rejected Beiers proposal to stage Wole Soyinkas
play A Dance of the Forests. The outright, though predictable, refusal to support
the play, a dark view of the colonial past and postindependence future by Nigerias supposed cultural elite, most of them expatriate officers in the colonial administration, confirmed Beiers growing suspicion that the emergence and sustenance of new and experimental Nigerian expressive arts must happen outside
state-owned institutions, away from the brazen conservatism of both the expatriate and national cultural elite.
42. The Farfield Foundation and the Congress for Cultural Freedom, it was revealed
301
Notes to Chapter 4
302
in 1967, were cia-sponsored organizations. The congress in particular had several well-known international artists and writers as its front men. Funding from
the congress primarily came through Mbaris first president, Ezekiel Mphahlele,
who after leaving Nigeria became the African representative at the congresss
Paris office. For further details about the funding of Black Orpheus and Mbari,
see Benson, Black Orpheus, 3339. For the cia connections with Farfield Foundation and Congress for Cultural Freedom and their roles in US cultural politics
during the Cold War, see Saunders, The Cultural Cold War.
43. Other members of the club included the South African Begum Hendrickse and
the Nigerian writers Francis Ademola, Amos Tutuola, D. O. Fagunwa, Yetunde
Esan, Mabel Imoukhuede, Kenneth C. Murray, and Segun Olusola. There were
many more.
44. Ulansky, Mbari: The Missing Link, 250.
45. For an elaborate study of Igbo mbari, see Cole, Mbari, and Cole and Aniakor, Igbo
Arts.
46. Cole, Art as a Verb, 3441, 88.
47. Cole, Mbari Is Life, 87.
48. In fact, it was precisely the sense that the club could not forge a meaningful
connection with its local community that led to Beiers decision to support the
desire of Duro Ladipo, the popular Yoruba language dramatist, to establish a new
space in Osogbo, farther away from Ibadan and the university crowd, in 1962.
The Osogbo space, popularly called Mbari-Mbayo, became the first of many
Mbari clubs to be established in Nigeria in the early 1960s. Other Mbari clubs
were in Lagos and Enugu, the capital city of the eastern region.
49. Earlier in 1952, he had converted a walkway in the University College Library,
Ibadan, into a gallery space, where he organized Sango, an exhibition of sculptures from the shrine of his friend and royal mentor, the Timi of Ede, and Artists against Apartheid, a show of solidarity with the accused in the 19561961
Regina v. F. Adams treason trial in South Africa.
50. The Exhibition Centre, Lagos, run by Michael Crowder, remained quite important, especially when Ibadan lost steam with Beiers relocation to Osogbo and
when some of the inaugural members settled in Lagos and elsewhere.
51. The wntv (Western Nigeria Television) Spotlight program gave them a thirty-
minute feature, while the federally owned nbs (Nigerian Broadcasting Service),
Lagos, announced the opening in the evening news. Segun Olusola, a producer
at wntv, and Chinua Achebe, acting director of programs at the nbs, were members of the Mbari Club.
52. See Beier, Ibrahim Salahi, 4850.
53. Beier, letter to the author, by facsimile, October 10, 2003. For a brief but very
useful critical biography of Williams, see Hazlewood, Notes on a Life, 1415.
54. H. M. El Amin, Esq., secretary for cultural affairs at the Sudanese embassy, Nigeria, opened the exhibition on November 15, 1963. It closed on December 9. In
an interview with me (at Mushin, Lagos, August 7, 2002), Bruce Onobrakpeya
confirmed the enduring impact of Salahis work on his own painting.
Notes to Chapter 4
303
Notes to Chapter 4
304
Notes to Chapter 5
305
Notes to Chapter 6
306
Romarovich. Ulli Beier was apparently the contact person between the gallery
and the artists; he had helped to arrange for two shows of El Salahis work at the
same gallery in 1963 and 1967. Ibrahim El Salahi, conversation with the author,
Oxford, England, June 20, 2003.
13. After 1968, Nwoko devoted much of his professional life to architecture and furniture design but also publishing and politics. At that point, he moved away, as
it were, from painting and sculpture as a means of creative expression.
14. Williams, Revival of Terra-Cotta, 413.
15. Omoighe, Interview with Yusuf Grillo, 64.
16. See Schwarz, Nigeria, 52.
17. Coleman, Backgrounds to Nigerian Nationalism, 319331.
18. Obafemi Awolowo, a foremost nationalist and champion of ethnic nationalism,
had famously argued: So long as every person in Nigeria is made to feel that
he is a Nigerian first and a Yoruba or Ibo or Hausa next, each will be justified to
poke his nose into the domestic issues of the other. See Schwarz, Nigeria, 254.
19. See Ekwensi, An African Nights Entertainment.
20. Mount, African Art, 135.
21. Okeke, Peep into the Vistas II, 9.
22. Excerpt from Simon Okekes 1959 artist statement, published in Okeke, Art in
Development, 2122.
23. Okeke, Peep into the Vistas II, 11.
24. Kennedy, New Currents, Ancient Rivers, 46.
25. Akolo is a Muslim from the Yoruba-speaking town of Kabba, in northern Nigeria.
26. See a review of Akolos Ibadan exhibition, titled Tradition and Individuality, by
an unnamed author in Daily Express [Lagos], September 26, 1962, 3.
27. Head and Desta, Conversation with Gebre Kristos Desta, 25.
Notes to Chapter 6
307
Notes to Chapter 6
308
19. The Academy of Art was to be located in Lagos. The institutes primary functions
were the establishment of study commissions, research fellowships, summer
schools, lecture tours, and bursaries for international travel.
20. Enwonwus speech is quoted in a review titled Exhibitions, by a contributor
identified simply as Artist. See Artist, Exhibitions, 69, 72.
21. Emphasis in original. See Enwonwu, Into the Abstract Jungle, 25. Admitting
the essays polemical nature, Enwonwu stated that Nigerian art needed such
debates, for it is the privilege of the Nigerian intellectual or artist or writer to
determine the course of his cultural future (29).
22. Enwonwu, Into the Abstract Jungle, 25.
23. Enwonwu, Into the Abstract Jungle, 26.
24. Mazrui, Meaning versus Imagery, 153.
25. Chinweizu, Prodigals, Come Home! 112.
26. Chinweizu, Onwuchekwa, and Madubuike, Toward the Decolonization, 173. The
phrase Hopkins Disease as used by the critics, describes the influence of the
nineteenth-century British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins on some supposedly
alienated, undecolonized Nigerian and African writers.
27. Enwonwu, Into the Abstract Jungle, 26.
28. See Lasekan, Problems of the Contemporary African Artists, 3132.
29. Rothenstein, Whither Painting?, 10771080, 1115.
30. Enwonwu Comments, 349352.
31. Some Enwonwu scholars have stressed the ritual potentialities of his work,
going so far as to claim that he successfully deployed his famous portrait of
Queen Elizabeth II (1957)because he invested it with ritual powerto prod
the Crown into granting independence to its subjects. See Nzegwu, The Africanized Queen.
32. Beier and Crowder had no doubts about, indeed often emphasized, Enwonwus
virtuosity, particularly as a wood sculptor. Recalling the reasons for his criticism
of Enwonwu, Beier described him as a great wood carver and potentially a very
great artist! However, Beier says, Enwonwus major problem was his lack of
consistency: Well, Picasso went through innumerable phases, but each phase
represented a new period of exploration. Bens different styles meant that he
was catering for different public tastes. I went to visit him often in his Lagos
studio. He usually would say things like this: Dont look at thatthis is not my
real work. I am just doing this for the nuns. Or I just have to do this portrait of
such and such ministers little daughter. My real work is here. And then he led
me to the back room where he would be working on a fascinating wood carving.
I feel that he dissipated his energies [Beiers emphasis]. See Ulli Beier, letter
to the author, October 9, 2003. For Crowders critique of Enwonwus work, see
Crowder, Nigerias Artists Emerge, 30.
33. See Jegede, Essential Emokpae, 199.
34. Crowder, Nigerias Artists Emerge, 36.
35. Emokpaes reflections on the philosophical basis of his work, as told to Odia Eromosele Oniha in 1973. See Jegede, Essential Emokpae, 199.
Notes to Chapter 7
36. One reader, Shane Carthy, responding to Emokpaes earlier claim that Christians
promote cannibalism when they ritually eat and drink the body and blood of
their deity, questioned the basis of what Carthy called Emokpaes new theology.
See Carthy, Cannibalistic Christianity, 79. In a later issue of the magazine,
Emokpae also took issue with what he called the arrogance of the Christian religion. He returned to the question of the Christian God and the origin of good
and evil: This may be a long way from The Last Supper but they are part of the
thoughts that went into its creation. In it, I said the exercise of the Eucharist is
cannibalistic and I stand by it, this does not mean that Christians are cannibals,
so I should not be misunderstood. See Emokpae, Cannibalistic Christianity,
167. Carthys final response to this debate is intriguing: Christianity without
Christ, as a cultural situation, is pretty thin, and as a theme for a painting could
easily drive an artist to abstractionism, a style which might not suit his genius.
Carthy, Cannibalistic Christianity, 316.
37. See Zaki, Towards an Art Revolution, 235, 304. This painting is 6 12.
38. Ekwensi, High Price of Nigerian Art, 36.
39. Quoted in Ekwensi, High Price of Nigerian Art, 40.
40. Enwonwu, quoted in Ekwensi, High Price of Nigerian Art, 40.
41. Ekwensi, One Step Beyond, 299.
42. See invitation brochure to Colette Omogbais exhibition of paintings at the
Mbari Ibadan (August 3, 1963), in the Ulli and Georgina Beier Archive, Sydney,
Australia.
43. Lawal, Without a Feminine Touch, 303.
44. See Omogbai, Man Loves What Is Sweet and Obvious, 80.
45. Omogbai, Man Loves What Is Sweet and Obvious, 80.
46. Omogbai, Man Loves What Is Sweet and Obvious, 80.
47. Nigeria magazine originated with Nigerian Teacher, established in 1933 as a
general-interest magazine.
48. The expatriate readership did not fail to respond to the political implications of
this editorial shift. Carey P. Cox, writing from Ibadan, complained that the late
arrival of his copy of the magazine was in fact a sad reflection on the policy of
Nigerianisation signaled by Nzekwus editorship. On the other hand, though,
Kenneth Murray praised the editor for introducing the literary supplement, for
getting the new outlook among writers before the public. See Pats and Slaps,
Nigeria 76 (1963): 3.
49. See Our Authors and Performing Artists, part 1, 5764; part 2, 133140.
50. After fleeing Lagos in the wake of mass killings of the Igbo people in parts of
Nigeria, Onuora Nzekwu later joined the Biafran cultural workshops directed by
the Nigerian poet and novelist Gabriel Okara.
309
Notes to Chapter 7
310
asserted its independence from the Federal Republic, in response to the 1966
massacres of the Igbo in the northern region. The war ended with the surrender
of Biafra in January 1970.
3. The Mbari Club network consisted of the Eastern Nigeria Theatre Group (entg),
a young drama group originally called the Ogui Players, founded by Ekwere; the
Lawrence Emekaled Enugu Musical Society; Gabriel Okaras Writers Club; and
the British Councils Art Club, directed by Uche Okeke.
4. See Buchloh, From Faktura to Factography, 83119.
5. Thomas, Shadows of Prophecy, 342.
6. Okigbo commenced work on the collection in October 1960, just days after political independence. See Nwakanma, Christopher Okigbo, 202.
7. Obumselu, Cambridge House, Ibadan, 3.
8. Okafor, Dance of Death, 214.
9. Okigbo, Come Thunder, 66.
10. Soyinka, Harvest of Hate, Idanre and Other Poems, 50.
11. I do not argue that Okigbos poetry is essentially more prophetic than Soyinkas,
esp. given that Soyinkas 1960 drama A Dance of the Forests is a prognostic warning about the possibility of failure of the sovereign postcolonial state.
12. Uche Okeke, diary note, March 18, 1963, Asele Institute, Nimo.
13. Azaro, the protagonist and abiku in Ben Okris novel The Famished Road, explains
why the abiku desired to return to the land of the unborn rather than tarry on the
earthly plane with their human parents: We disliked the rigours of existence,
the unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the world, the labyrinths of
love, the ignorance of parents, the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference
of the living in the midst of the simple beauties of the universe. See Okri, The
Famished Road, 1.
14. See Achebe, Things Fall Apart. Chapter 9 deals particularly with the ritual of
breaking Ezinmas bond with the world of the ogbanje. See also J. P. Clark[-
Bekederemo] and Wole Soyinkas Abiku poems, first published in Black
Orpheus 10 (1961/62). They were also later published in their respective individual collections: Clark, A Reed in the Tide; Soyinka, Idanre and Other Poems.
15. In Things Fall Apart (191), Achebe describes the suspension of a young female
convert by Reverend James Smith, the zealous new priest. She had apparently
allowed her heathen husband to mutilate her dead child, believed to be an ogbanje. Although both Christian converts and animists alike believed in the existence of ogbanje, the Reverend Smith saw anyone with such residual paganism
as unworthy of the Lords table.
16. The ambiguously drawn figure of the ogbanje suggests that it could also be a
male.
17. Okigbo, Elegy for Alto, Labyrinths, 72.
18. Soliman, From Past to Present and Future, 151.
19. Okri, Famished Road, 478.
20. Achebe, Things Fall Apart, 215.
21. See the African Writers Series edition of Achebe, Things Fall Apart.
Notes to Chapter 7
311
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Heinemann, 1975.
Shepperson, George. Notes on Negro American Influences on the Emergence of
African Nationalism. Journal of African History 1, no. 2 (1960): 299312.
Bibliography
325
Bibliography
326
INDEX
Index
328
Index
329
Index
330
Bathing Women (Demas Nwoko, oil on canvas, 1961; fig. 3.17), 110, 111, 112, 201, 277
Baule, tradition of sculpture, 158
Beauty and the Beast (Ben Enwonwu, oil on
canvas, 1961; fig. 6.4), 243, 244, 301n34
Beauty and the Beast (Herbert M. Cole,
video, 1985), 276
Beggars in the Train (Demas Nwoko, oil on
board, 1959; fig. 3.13), 106, 107
Beier, Ulli (19222011), 16, 306n5; and aesthetic produced by encounter of international modern art practice with local artistic traditions, 172; and Africa Awakening
(early 1960s), 160; art criticism of, 119;
and artistic modernism, 132; author of
Contemporary Art in Africa (1968), 6; and
Ben Enwonwu, 252; and Black Orpheus,
17, 131, 13334, 13638, 140, 148, 149, 177,
art criticism in, 257, reviews in, 15354,
15658, 160; championed work of some
Art Society members, 169; and Colette
Omogbais paintings, 252, 253; and development and transaction of postcolonial
modern art and art criticism, 183; and Die
Brcke, 166, 168; and emergence of Nigerian art, 228, 238, 242; and Indian artists, 300n22; and influences on Skunder
Boghossian, 177; and interest in art of
the mentally ill, 135, 136, 161; and Langston Hughes, 304n82; the Mbari Artists
and Writers Club at Ibadan, 132, 149, 151;
and Mbari gallery, 151, 153, and exhibition
brochure, 15152, 162; and Mbari-Mbayo,
161, 302n48, 302n50, 303n70; and Nigeria magazine exhibition, 14648; and
1961 continental tour, 153; and Okpu Eze,
252; organized shows at Mbari, Ibadan,
of Schmidt-Rottluff prints, 165, 168,
169, and exhibition brochure, 166, 168,
304n79, invitation, 169, 171; and Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology, 138, 140, and authenticity of work
at, 147, believed art coming from part of
nascent international phenomenon, 153;
and photographs by, 159, 209; promoted
work of formally trained artists, 161; and
proposal to stage Soyinkas play A Dance
Index
Rottluff exhibition, 168; featured sculptures of Brazilian artist Agnaldo dos Santos, 172; fortunes of, 177, 181; founded at
Ibadan, Nigeria, in 1957, 14; gave voice to
new generation of Anglophone African
and black diaspora writers and artists, 17;
and German writer Janheinz Jahn, 132,
165; and Ibrahim El Salahi, 4, 154, and
Denis Williamss review of 1963 show
at Galerie Lambert, Paris, 157; inaugurated discourse of postcolonial modernism, 257; and Jacob Lawrence and
William H. Johnson, 169, and Ulli Beier,
171; and Julian Beinarts essay on Valente
Malangatana, 162; and Labac magazine,
233; and late-1960s postcolonial Nigerian art and poetry, 19; and modern art,
13334, 13638, 140; and negritude, 99,
299n4; and Nigeria magazine, 257; and
other art critics in, 160; primary authors
of art criticism in, 257; role of in development and transaction of postcolonial
modern art and art criticism, 183; signal
forum of mid-twentieth-century African
and black artistic and literary modernism, 23; and Ulli Beier, 17, 132, 13334,
13638, 140, 257, and interest in art of
the mentally ill, 161, published emerging poets, novelists, and playwrights, 149,
and his Susanne Wenger, Francis Newton
Souza, and Demas Nwoko essays, 148,
promotes the work of formally trained
artists, 161, reviews by, 153, and transnational network of, 154, and Vincent Kofi,
158, wrote most of essays and art reviews
in, 160; voice of the Ibadan era, 256; Wole
Soyinkas Abiku poems in, 310n14
Black Writers and Artists Congresses:
(1956), 258; (1959), 128
Bleyl, Fritz, 166
Blyden, Edward Wilmot (18321912), educator and writer: author of The Idea of
an African Personality, 9394; concept
of African Personality, 128; early black
nationalist, 2; intellectual tradition of, 35;
member of Lagoss educated elite, 69;
proposed West African University, 31, 36
331
Index
332
Boghossian, Skunder (19372003), Ethiopian artist: exhibited at Mbari, 172; influenced by negritude, 176; and Wilson Tibero, 305n100; work of, Louise Acheson
essay on, 17576; works by, 176, 178; and
Ulli Beier, 177
Bois, Yve-Alain, 193
Bonhams, auction house, London, 116, 119
Brancusi, Constantin, 158
Bread and Bullet (Hubert Ogunde, 1954), 286
The Bridgeman Art Library, 49
British arts and crafts movement, 56
British Councils Art Club, directed by
Uche Okeke, 310n3
British indirect rule, 7, 18. See also indirect
rule
bronze-lino, technique developed by Bruce
Onobrakpeya, 210
Brooke, Donald, 75
Brown, Evelyn, Harmon Foundation, 231
Bruce Onobrakpeya: The Spirit in Ascent
(1992), 214, 215
C. Mitchell and Company, 301n28
C.M.S. Grammar School, Lagos, 295n12
Cahier dun retour au pays natal (1939), by
Aim Csaire, 133
Calligraphy (Ahmed Shibrain, ink on paper,
ca. 1962; fig. 4.23), 174
Camberwell School of Art and Crafts, London (now Camberwell College of Arts),
82, 181, 297n13, 299n56
Camille, Roussan (19121961), 299n4
Canclini, Nestor Garcia, 12
Carr, Henry, Lagosian lawyer, 27
Carroll, Father Kevin, workshop at Oye-
Ekiti, 145
Carr-Saunders Commission, 82
Casely-Hayford, J. E., 36
Catterson-Smith, Robert (18531938),
British Arts and Crafts movement, 5556
Central School of Art and Design in London, 231
Csaire, Aim (19132008): and negritude,
9596, 299n4; and Cahier dun retour au
pays natal (1939), 133
Christ (Uche Okeke, 1961; fig. 3.9), 101, 102
Index
333
Index
334
Dosumu, A. O. Delo, 42
double consciousness (W. E. B. Du Bois
idea), 10
Dover, Cedric (author of American Negro
Art), 169
Dr. Sapara (Aina Onabolu, undated), 45
Drewal, Henry J., 11
Drummer (Vincent Kofi), 159
Du Bois, W. E. B. (18681963): and African personality, 16; and black emancipation pan-Africanisms of, 37; and Booker T.
Washington, 34; called for literary education of black Talented Tenth, 27, for standard black universities, 34; concept of race
based on nineteenth-century European
racialist thought, 94; exerted tremendous
influence on twentieth-century African nationalists, 33; influence on educated class
of Africans, 35; irritating racial equality of,
3536; Nnamdi Azikiwe and, 35, 294n43;
and notion of Double Consciousness, 10;
short story by, 22; work of, 89
Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa, Lord
Frederick Lugards influential book, 31,
209n10
Duerden, Dennis, art critic: assisted Jimo
Akolo to travel to London, 220; education officer and art teacher at Keffi Boys
Secondary School, 67; in discussion of
contemporary Nigerian art used synthesis, 91; mentored William Olaosebikan, 297n20; and nature of influence on
young artists in Nigeria, 242; and Uche
Okeke, 185; work of, 238
Earning a Living (Demas Nwoko, 1959), 106
Eastern Nigeria Theatre Group (entg),
262, 310n3
Ebinti Song, Uche Okeke (poem, 1960),
86
cole des Arts, Dakar, 97, 98
Edgbaston Church of England College for
Girls, Birmingham, England, 56
Edo sculptural forms and motifs, 210
Education Policy in British Tropical Africa
(1925), historic white paper, 34, 294n38
Efik (people), 311n25
Index
335
Index
336
Index
337
Index
338
Index
339
Index
340
Index
341
Index
342
Index
Murray, Kenneth C. (19031972): adaptationist ideas of, 132; and Aina Onabolu,
16, 4043, 47, 51, 52, 54, 62, 64, 6869,
140; and Ananda Coomaraswamy, 56; and
Ben Enwonwu, 242, 296n4; and Black
Orpheus, 233; British art teacher, 16, 39,
52, 68; colonial models established in
Nigeria by, 160; colonial modernism of,
17, 140; criticized African artist seeking
mastery of stylistic modes and pictorial
techniques of precubist era, 52; development as an educator, 57; disapproval of
modernisms nonspiritual basis, 55; educational (pedagogical) ideas of, 5960,
6162, 65, 73, 129; encounter with Franz
Cieks ideas, 5556; established ethnographic museums, 78; fashioned new arts
and crafts curriculum that became model
for southern Nigerian schools from early
1930s onward, 52, basis of contemporary
African creative authenticity, 91; followers
of fail to identify with formal experimentation of European avant-garde, 138;
and Francesca M. Wilson, 55; and Frederick Lugard, 5960, 63; and George A.
Stevens, 62; graduate of Birmingham
School of Art in England, 52, 55; and indirect rule, 59, 68; influence of, 66; insistence on technical art education for
production of craft, 27, 4142; invested
in recovering native art traditions and in
training artists whose work would satisfy
needs of rural and city dwellers, 54; and
Joseph E. Barton, 55, 295n18; and Margaret Trowell, 6162; misunderstanding
of his art education in scholarly literature,
5455; naive naturalism of his school,
54; nativism of, 41; Nigerian writer,
302n43; 1937 exhibition of paintings and
sculptures organized by, at the Zwemmer Gallery, London, for his students,
57, 66; and Ola Oloidi, 295n26; and Olu
Oguibe, 296n34; primitivist imagination
of, 6364; recommended apprenticeship
with master traditional carvers for those
who wished to practice professionally, 54;
role in developing modern art in Nige-
343
Index
344
Index
345
Index
346
Index
347
Index
348
Index
board of Nigerian Council for the Advancement of Arts and Culture, 307n8;
and mission of National Arts Council,
233; and modern art, approach to too
naturalistically Victorian, 148, task of,
45; and modernism, 42, 51; nationalism
and his art, 47; naturalistic, colonial-era
portrait paintings of, 8; and postcolonial
modernism, 40, 69; promotion of high
art values, 47; role of in articulating symbolic production of postcolonial self, 288;
saw no pictorial grandeur in Yoruba or
Nigerian history or myths, 45, 47; students and admirers called him Nigerias
Joshua Reynolds and Mr. Perspective,
295n10; studio of, 73, 306n1; trained in
London and in Paris (at Acadmie Julian),
45; and Uche Okeke, 129; and vision of
a Nigerian art academy, 73; and Western
academic tradition, 47; work of, 21, 39,
as art teacher, 5051, 54, 62, 64, as a part
of the radical work of emergent anticolonialism, 40, discussion of, 45, 47, 4951,
literary, 43, 44, preempted postcolonial
modernism of midcentury, 40, reassessments of, 51; works of, 45, 46
Onobrakpeya, Bruce (born 1932), 142,
209, 297n20, 307n15; and Art Society,
113, 208, elected treasurer, 85; attended
meeting to discuss forming Nigerian Art
Academy, 236; and Benin sculpture, 215;
bronze-lino, technique developed by, 210;
collected folktales, 112; completed eleven
paintings commissioned by United African Company for Ionian Sports event in
Ondo in 1957, 85; and concerns about
implications and impact of political decolonization on thematic and stylistic
directions of his work, 14; and Demas
Nwoko, 112; and Edo sculptural forms and
motifs, 209; and Erhabor Emokpae and
Araldite, 212; featured on Nigerian Television Service, 237; and Federal Society
for the Arts and Humanities, 235; and
folk narratives, 210; and formal syntheses
evident in the work of, 217; graduated in
1961, 88; helped organize art section of
349
Index
350
Index
351
Index
352
postindependence (continued)
cultural practice, 263, and society, 84,
237, students, 84, Western government,
311n33; period, 289; Senegal, 93; years,
interregional rivalry in, 83
post-Renaissance, 64, 127
Pot (Bruce Onobrakpeya, bronze-lino work,
ca. 1966), 210
Prayer (Ibrahim El Salahi, oil on Masonite,
1960; fig. 4.11), 155
Praying Woman (Demas Nwoko, 1960), 109
precolonial, 25, 95
precubist, 52, 129, 246
premodernism, Western, 216
Prsence Africaine, influential francophone
journal, 92, 13132
Price-Mars, Jean (18761969), Haitian
writer, 131
Prince of Wales College, Achimota, in the
Gold Coast (Ghana), 62
Princeton University Art Museum, 219
Progressive Artists Group (pag), Mumbai-
based, 137
protonationalists, 27
Purpose and Admiration, book, Joseph E.
Barton (1933), 55
Quarrel between Ahwaire the Tortoise and
Erhako the Dog (Bruce Onobrakpeya,
mural, ca. 1960), 209
Queen Elizabeth II, 78, 308n31
Radio Nigeria, 141, 145
Ramsaran, J. A. (life dates unknown),
299n4
Raullerson, Calvin H., director of amsac,
Lagos, 229
Ravi Shankar (Naoko Matsubara, woodblock
print, 1961; fig. 4.28), 180
Rawsthorne, Alan, 297n14
Rawsthorne, Isabel, 297n14. See also Isabel
Lambert
Renascent Africa (Nnamdi Azikiwe, 1937),
36, 294n43
The Return of Shango (Ulli Beier, 1995),
303n70
Reynoldian Royal Academy, model, 73;
style, 45
Richardson, Marion, 56
Robertson, James, former governor, Sudan;
later, Nigeria, 35
Rogers, Claude, 297n13
Rothenstein, Sir William, principal, Royal
College of Art, 57, 59, 242, 296n32
Rouault, Georges, French fauvist, 138
Roumain, Jacques (19071944), 299n4
Rousseau, Henri, 112
Royal Couple, tapestry, Papa Ibra Tall (1965;
fig. 3.6), 97, 97
royal house of the Obong of Calabar, 231
Royal Ontario Museum, 180
Sabada (Dance) (Yusuf Grillo, 1964; fig.
3.21), 115, 116, 117
Saint Martins School of Art, England, 231
Salahi, Ibrahim. See El Salahi, Ibrahim
Sango, exhibition of sculptures from shrine
of the Timi of Ede, 302n49
Sango cult, Yoruba, 300n10
Sango sculpture (1964), by Ben Enwonwu,
for Nigerian Electric Commission, Lagos
(fig. 6.1), 229, 230
Sango shrine, Osogbo, 304n82
Santosh, G. R., key member of Neotantric
school, whose abstract paintings explored
magical signs of tantric yantras, 300n22
Sartre, Jean-Paul: existentialism of, 240;
giant of French left intelligentsia, 92; and
negritude, 91, poetry, 93, 96, 133
Schapire, Dr. Rosa, Estate of, 167
Schmidt-Rottluff, Karl (18841976), German expressionist artist: exhibition
at Mbari Ibadan, 165; member of Die
Brcke, 166, 168, of all most directly influenced by African sculpture, 168; and
Ulli Beier, puts together show of work of,
165, 168, writes exhibition brochure for,
166, 304n79; 168; works of, 16566, 167,
and review of by Denis Williams, 168
Second International Congress of Black
Writers and Artists, Rome (1959), 92,
98, 128
Secret Voyage (Valente Malangatana, painting), 162
Sekoto, Gerard, 303n68
Senghor, Lopold Sdar (19062001),
Index
353
Index
354
Surrealism (continued)
162, 175; and Okpu Eze, 252; and Skunder
Boghossians work, and his new brand
of surrealism in service of his Afro-
Metaphysics, 175; and Ulli Beier, 136,
252; and Valente Malangatanas work, 162
The Susan Wenger Foundation, Zbing am
Heiligenstein, 135
Symbolism, 186; graphic, of Arabic texts,
154; hard-edge, 253; mystical, Salahis,
156; pictorial, 286; ritual, 138
Symbolists: Art Society and European, 99;
color, 112, 113, and Bruce Onobrakpeya,
113; and Paul Gauguin, 112
Table of Contents for the J. B. Neumann Portfolio (Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, 1919), 166
Taiwo, Olufemi, historian, 15, 23, 69
Tall, Papa Ibra, 98, 226; work of, 97
Tate Gallery, London, 139
Tears of God, oil on board, Erhabor Emokpae (1964), 251
Tedder Hall, mens residence hall, University of Ibadan, 196, 197; mural at, 201
Tempels, Placide (19061977), 134
terra-cotta: and Demas Nwoko, 201, 2034,
works in terra-cotta by, 205, 206, 207, 283,
284, 285, 286, 287; Nok sculpture, 201,
2034, 205; works, 203, 205, 206, 284, 285,
286, 287; workshop organized by Mbari
Ibadan and Department of Extra-Mural
Studies of University of Ibadan, 204
Terry Dintenfass Gallery, New York, 172
Thtre Lyrique, annual summer school at
Vichy, 197
Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe, 1958), 14,
268, 27274
The Three Kings (Karl Schmidt-Rottluff,
1917), 166
Thunder Can Break, first poem in
Christopher Okigbos collection, Path of
Thunder, 263
Tibero, Wilson, black Brazilian artist:
Gerald Moores essay on in Black Orpheus,
16061; and Skunder Boghossian,
305n100; visited Senegal with friend Gerard Sekoto, 303n68
Index
355
Index
356
Index
357