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ETROPOLITAN Lagos serves as a case study in urbanization and visual culture.1 As the 
economic and cultural capital of Nigeria, Africa's most populous nation, Lagos exerts a magnetic 
pull on people from all over Nigeria and across the West African subregion. From neighboring 
countries like Benin, Togo, Ghana and Liberia, Lagos is host to a motley of more than 200 
ethnic groups. Population figures show that this is one of the fastest growing cities in the world. 
In 1960, it had a population of about one million. Today, with a sprawl that now embraces 
what used to be the suburbs—Shomolu, Ketu, Mushin, Ikeja, Agege, Ogudu, Egbe, Festac 
<GLENDOBA REVIEW><African Quarterly on the ArasxVOI3@No2> 
•
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Student Art 
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friend 
B no 
i lor 
t mtlilf 
m ihe
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e
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HI mtcmUncc at MV imp™ urn irl tihtfwuon w 
Ifcj UHMQ Thu, perhaps n in indication of 
iht (id that Nigtraru irr not Btneralty 
rtuftnt IB in nhibmoni * fact ihii «eu 
m vtimdoiin whether ihert ire enough wdlorpniwd 
eihihitmm In juilify hrapin| Mimei 
un «vr IUMIVC juditnce. beann| m mind lhal 
ihccrHl [isullKtirleiliilxliomdocjnolconual 
m ht» much monc) a revlned but in how 
ninth knowledge u iliipri wi 
1i <\ in ihe lif hi of ihn ibul I uimnlci Ihe 
b-l »n eihihmon by iht tiuritnltunhc Departnwni 
.A hnc Ail, Ahnuilu Bdlo UnrwrtMy. 
hcUMl^ilhaieMDCCH 
.Ml ilv tut - ha>h lh>! make up the Dqwrliwm 
Sculpture. C«amici, Graphics. Texitlet 
*ui f'jmi^n were pri>pefk featured it the 
cihihil»>i> The Sthmil til Piiinimf pt denied 
VIRK while and jKcnmnluhed paintings. 
»«l rctlntk. thai Hould completely 
I heki i 
quarlm tlul an Khoob kit! the rnius in nun 
If you Ukt • k»A 41 I>k Jepsfci "Swaling il 
Out". ' (\»npiiiicy". "Ai il", "Hypocrisy" 
"Piilofue" « "My Simaru". you will find 
that bm t> • .iinieni whoM viriuou will he 
iicinoWKQfcd even ny Iv mo&t c\nK3l critic If 
you find fame of hit f»mlinfs difficuH to 
L-ompfthend. ihn tray he boaux he n con- 
Nigeria Magazine, NO. 113, 1974. 
Town, and several others—the population has exploded to well over six million. A 
significant number of youths from other parts of Nigeria and beyond, whose 
imagination has been stirred by tantalizing anecdotes about Lagos, hold on to 
the dream that this city is the center of civilization: their civilization. Lagos, for 
them, is a city flowing with milk and honey. Choked by a network of bridges that 
connect Apapa, Ikoyi, Victoria and Lagos islands to the mainland, Lagos has 
more than 50% of all the vehicles in Nigeria. But, as Lagosians will quickly warn, 
the city takes no bull: "Eko o gba gbere." 
Lagos is color. It is theater. It is music and movement. It is also a city of paradoxes. 
It is inclusive and accommodating, providing the weak and the strong, the wealthy 
and the indolent equal opportunities to succeed in their chosen tracks, "Eko gbole 
o gbole." Long before it became the dominant cultural discourse in the West, the 
inevitability of postmodernism had become a fait accompli in Lagos even though 
the people themselves do not necessarily couch this phenomenon in the current 
arcane |argon. It ,s indeed striking that much of what Western theorists belabor 
has been the norm in Lagos and, indeed, in some other African metropolitan 
centers. No greater confirmation of this assertion is needed than a visit to any of 
the numerous throbs of activities: Mile 12, Olosa, Jankara, or Oyingbo. Lagos 
coniures the visual equivalent of one huge, seamless canvas. It is a canvas of 
multiple forms, united by an enchanting kaleidoscope of colors. In terms of the 
dynamics of composition, Lagos comes across as an asymmetrically balanced 
Z X'IVTefVe' Pdatial buHdin9S of lkoyi' with ^eir designer gates 
t Hn "' ^ ^ ° * * and ' M ' » * « * - * > the crowded Zl 
ad 
Meta 1 o 1 * 5 M 1 ! - + f a ' * * * " bungalow, of Mushin, Shomolu, or Ebute 
<GIENDORA 
his paintings have a panieularlv dutrming 
jcvshmc 4n|v=)! 
VusMiffs "Gra/ii\j[" and "Hone lUct' 
should he mentioned not only for the cool and 
warm fcding> (hey convey but also for their 
spjliii urpiniijlion 
Ho*ever. I fed (bat some of the ptiniifijp are 
cither too naiw or unp«iMcriy In wand ihc 
searchlight of objective criticism. The> also 
viialc whatever solid repwunoo (he School of 
Painting may have been uru&ling (o build 
Their colour sdiane *JV hanli and drawings 
awkward. 1 am rdnrtng to S. AMtvadams's 
••Riiual" ami D. Acharaekf* "Me«y Mukntg 
11" In fact, you might wondef. on seeing 
Athanicks "Merry Milking whclhcc il was 
paintat by an •'Airport anisC oi by as Ml 
Mudeni. 
The School uf Graphics ewelled in varied 
prMentiilion pfe« ailvcrli.scmenli. iwocd 
and book jiickeK. book illu-irjumn, iinocul. 
package liejigo, table slands, poalen. pbolfgraphy 
and life drasin^i Most ni Ihe ptetes 
had an ama/mg degree of finish (hat tended 10 
ridicule [he Priming machine! However. I fee! 
thai there ihuukl he further ttupfcvcmentt and 
atlenpta ibould he made to up-date leaching 
metbods il graphic gradtiaies are not u> fold 
themselves in tmbarrasing silikitioin m Axtveriising 
Agencies keeping abreast ot modem 
advenising gimmick). This, however, D not to 
overtook Ibe fact that tne> hare availed theat- 
Mrves of cwry opportunity Ibe Department 
could offer and one would not hciiiate io give 
them due credit if one reslitetl that atwlcnm: 
discipline should rot be an end in itself 
The School of Textile* followed up in sho» 
withascintillaiHig Fashion Parade, liwuraeuf 
the most successful highlight* of the *<ek-long 
exhibition. And it did not only eihibii textile 
pieces designed and printed by itudenis. haniwoven 
nuterut. were also brougKi. weaving 
being ibe blest addition to irfflHw 
But I am dtnppoiatal viih the ceramics. 
This s a section where standard has refuted !o 
cvefl lha: of ba veai They achieved a feat with 
T OatlOnG ' ^ Or A l ° b ° International Market. ,f you are still not 
l t t d h Venues is comparable to the 
*>« - s e d the opportunity 
2 IP,°d0,ln 
Xancv of h 1 t " 
o saZ t ce 
ecomme datil , I ° VQntQ9e 9' 
t h i wi ZZ£ z x Z fz ° zii°zv; ' f° ° d tak Sh0d : ,i ° a loo ke-k Here at iif ' Oen beio the - - p a w °ns bot linkin h sideg Oshod s °f i 
colors- a svmohonv V 9 ^ °f h e a d s - H e r e ' l i f e is a cacophony of 
s, symphony of movements. From your privileged standpoint, you cannot 
Quarterly on the A*><Voi3G-No8> 
<62>
Lagos is color. It is 
theater. It is music 
and movement. It 
is also a city of 
paradoxes. It is 
inclusive and 
accommodating, 
providing the weak 
and the strong, the 
wealthy and the 
indolent equal 
opportunities to 
succeed in their 
chosen tracks, "Eko 
gbole o gbole" 
<GLENDORA 
but be intimidated by this expansive, festive congregation. This, perhaps, is one of 
the few spots in the world where one can observe the largest concentration of the 
African Diaspora. An endless stream of Molu E buses, danfos' and taxi cabs, all 
in their yellow colors, provides a colorful accent to the scintillating panorama. As 
that beguiling pop star, Lagbaja, crooned in one of his albums, "Dis is Lagos." 
The music—if we may use that term as this pertains to Lagos—that assaults your 
ears comes from diverse sources. First, the public buses: those rickety and 
reconfigured mechanical contraptions that frequent the highways and crooked 
alleys. Balanced precariously on the doorsteps, one hand wagging and slashing 
the air, are the "bus conductors" whose responsibility it is to collect bus fares. And 
this they do with a huge dose of enthusiasm and relish but with minimum decorum, 
decency or courtesy. By profession, Lagos bus conductors are insolent. These are 
"conductors" without any orchestra. Yelling at the top of their voices, bus conductors 
beckon to passengers: "Balende-e-e-e-l Obalende-O-o-o-o!" "Agege...Age-ri-ge 
lyana lpa|a...l" To this regular bellow, you must add other sounds—from 
irrepressible taxi drivers who would rather forgo functioning headlights than drive 
without perpetually placing their hands on the horn; to Okada, the commercial 
motor bikers who derive pleasure, it would seem, from embarrassing others with 
high decibel horns. Lagos is a city in perpetual motion, and artists could not have 
wished for a better environment to draw inspiration from. As they force their way 
through throngs of people on ever-busy streets, cart-pushers and other porters 
intimidate pedestrians. Street vendors meander through long stretches of traffic, 
advertising all manner of products, from "pure water" to lingerie; from "gala" 
sausage rolls to digital telephones that actually ring. Considering the determination 
and inventiveness of Lagos vendors, it might not be long before they sprint after 
commuters, carrying portable television sets that transmit live programs. "Dis" is 
Lagos. 
The Visual Arts 
Given the reluctance in some Western quarters to abandon the use of such 
demeaning terms as "tribal" in relation to African art, one can appreciate the 
conspiratorial unison with which culture brokers in Europe and the U.S. continue 
to respond to issues about contemporary African art. Let us make this very clear: 
the West finds it difficult to embrace the idea that it does not have—neither has it 
ever had—any monopoly on creativity. In scholarly circles, particularly in the West 
where the discourse of contemporary African art has become essentialized in recent 
times, defining the terms of reference remains a critical issue. In Nigeria, this is no 
less so. Considering the social, economic and educational handicap that many 
Nigerian art students face, the concern for financial success occupies a much 
higher stratum than any scholarly erudition on some abstract concepts that frame 
the production of art. What, you might ask, do contemporary Nigerian artists care 
about how their work is perceived, dissected, processed, and branded so long as 
they are able to "discharge" all their work on the exhibition circuit in return for 
cash? What do contemporary Nigerian artists care about contributing to the discourse 
of creative boundaries in an environment where society is largely unconcerned 
about a rarified discourse that thrives mainly on sheer academicism? Does it 
matter that Nigerian artists are categorized as modern or contemporary, popular 
or postmodern? Granted that artists have the right, at least on occasions, to 
remain artists and not be bothered by hair-splitting theories, we pose the question: 
how are Nigerian eggheads in the academe contributing to the debate on 
appropriate classificatory mechanism for African art? What is their position on 
modernism and postmodernism? What are their views on postcolonialism and 
visual culture? 
Currently, African artists and scholars in Western cultural and educational 
institutions are at the vanguard of confronting discriminatory attitudes that color 
opinions, critiques and decisions in matters pertaining to contemporary African 
art and artists. Through a spate of exhibitions, attendance and participation at 
conferences, in cyberspace chat rooms and at informal gatherings, in numerous 
m Quarterly on rlic /to><VOI3@No2> 
<63>
publications, at several professional fora and on innumerable platforms, 
stereotypical assumptions are being queried. Modernist canons are being ruptured, 
artificial boundaries and compartments challenged, and the notion of contemporary 
African art as peripheral, adjunct or intuitive is often rigorously contested. 
Postmodernism, in contradistinction to the enlightenment and rationalist hegemony 
of modernism, is concerned with the celebration of inclusivity and multiplicity. 
Western cultural brokers, particularly those who are committed to the supremacy 
of a linear narrative, are no longer granted the comfort of inflicting any patronizing 
agenda on contemporary African art. Modern art must be seen as an integral 
part of the Western agenda under which the African continent was mindlessly 
partitioned and European culture imposed on the "natives." It became normative 
for the colonized to view their own world—indeed, to conceive it—from the 
perspective of the colonizer. Postmodernism is concerned—and I say this with 
healthy skepticism—with subverting the modernist rationalization of cultures. This 
cultural rationalization recognizes a linear axis; it celebrates the primacy of science, 
technology, and industrialization while undermining the resilience of spirituality 
and the resilience of the human spirit. It is the homogenization of cultures that 
postmodernism is committed to preventing. The notion that there is a global 
culture which is dominated by white, European male canons is no longer tenable. 
But if the change in attitude that scholars and artists in Western cultural centers 
envisage is to be enduring, and if contemporary African artists are to capitalize 
on the rumored or actual death of modernity, African artists and scholars must 
also see themselves as part of the global movement. Here, I throw in a cautionary 
note. The global doctrine that I envisage does not insist that one should be 
purged or sanitized of one's individuality or cultural identity. This globalism indeed 
celebrates a polity where individuality is recognized as an empowering attribute; 
where the collective does not privilege one single dominion. Contemporary Nigerian 
artists and scholars are, hopefully, aware that an isolationist approach that neglects 
the battles being waged in other fronts is unproductive and self-deprecating. 
Contributing to the discourse necessitates that Nigerian artists be conversant with 
trends in the field, not necessarily that they might be better placed to copy them, 
but that their work might benefit from an appreciation of what they can do to 
contribute to a global culture. An understanding of the criticalness of culture and 
society in the determination of what constitutes art is a sine qua non to the production 
of vital art. Impressive as the tenets of postmodernism are, contemporary Nigerian 
artists run the danger of becoming irrelevant and totally marginalized if they 
hanker after ill-digested Western fads. A critique of postmodernism from the 
perspective of the Nigerian and the African artist provides a platform from which 
dissenting voices may be clearly heard. 
How does the current situation affect Nigeria? Environmental, social, political 
and cultural conditions substantially influence creativity. The issue is not whether 
Lagos is postmodernist enough. Rather, it is what brand of postmodernist art 
does Lagos produce? It is imperative that a skeptical attitude be adopted in 
contemplating these, issues. The social, political and economic conditions that 
encourage creative indulgences in Lagos differ substantially from those of Western 
artists. It must be recognized that nothing diminishes the contemporary Nigerian 
artist faster than the misguided notion of wanting to be more American than 
America. 
Western cultural 
brokers, 
particularly those 
who are committed 
to the supremacy 
of a linear 
narrative, are no 
longer granted the 
comfort of 
inflicting any 
patronizing agenda 
on contemporary 
Lagos has always enjoyed the unique privilege of playing host to the cream of 
Nigerian arhsts. As the cultural and, until early in the 1990s the political capital 
of Nigeria, artist.c activities derive their legitimacy only when they have been enacted 
or re-enacted in Lagos. All artists, groups and schools-from Aka to Ona, Auchi 
to Zana, from Osogbo to Ondo-acknowledge the drawing power of Lagos. 
Since the era of Aina Onabolu and Kenneth Muray, the primal power of Lagos 
withm he Nigerian visual arts world has never been in doubt. Unfortunately, this 
has not gone beyond national borders. The magnetic power, not to mention the 
economic potentials of Lagos, has not earned ,t the desirable international, 
continental or even regional clout. A little over a decade ago, in the m,d-1980s, 
Logos appeared on the verge of assuming the role of Africa's cultural capital. But 
this has since proved to be a ch,mera. Politically and economically, this was a African art 
<GLENDORA 
,e A,,,><Vo,5(,,,No2> 
<64>
convulsive period in Nigerian history. Wracked by corruption and administrative 
ineptitude, the country found itself in the throes of a succession of military takeovers. 
In August of 1985, General Ibrahim Babangida, through a palace coup, 
summarily relieved General Muhammadu Buhari of his duty as Nigeria's fifth 
military ruler. The economy, as usual, became one of the central rationalizations 
for effecting change of government. Nigerians had become so familiar with soldiers' 
game-plan that they could predict the reasons any power-hungry soldier making 
his first radio and television broadcast would give for seizing power: political 
instability; hospitals without drugs; social malaise; indiscipline; increase in crime 
rate, unemployment and, of course, a wobbly economy. The list could be longer, 
of course, depending on the imagination and inventiveness of the new despot. It 
was not any different when Babangida seized power. Remarkably, this period was 
probably the most buoyant for contemporary Nigerian artists. The tone for this 
cultural renaissance was set, remarkably enough, during the Buhari era. This was 
when art graduates realized, like thousands of others who graduated into the 
unemployment market, that there could be a silver lining in the dour clouds. One 
of the first areas where the necessity for economic survival prompted a new creative 
enterprise was the fashion industry. Although this was not restricted to collegetrained 
designers, it was obvious that Nigerian artists had latched on to something 
exciting—something that also brought in money. The lesson that was learned 
from this particular enterprise was clear: self-employment was best employment. 
Soon, the art scene swarmed with a seemingly endless parade of exhibitions: 
group and solo. At the National Museum in Onikan, the Didi Museum on Victoria 
Island, the Signature Gallery at Apapa or Ikoyi, the French Cultural Center, the 
Italian Cultural Center, the Goethe Institut, USIS, at the University of Lagos, and 
numerous other public and private spaces, a succession of art-related activities 
became routine. Bruce Onobrakpeya's Ovuomaroro Studios played host, as usual, 
to a stream of students and professional artists seeking improvement, even as its 
flavor among visitors also grew. In popular parlance, art began to happen 
everywhere. The National Museum, in particular, capitalized on this, charging 
fees for its exhibition spaces. Still, the queue of artists waiting to rent the space was 
long. Even much longer was the line of top diplomats, government functionaries, 
business executives and friends of the arts at openings. At almost all of these 
exhibitions, there was usually a particular group whose presence was constant: 
art writers. During this time, a new protocol for opening art exhibitions was 
established—almost. It was one that had a decidedly Nigerian flavor. It consisted 
of acknowledgments, speeches, more speeches, and then the usual tape-zapping 
activity, performed more for media photographers than for the artist. The sale was 
on. Officially. In a development that made a mockery of the prevailing economic 
doldrums that Nigeria found itself in, artists' prices rose sharply. And their patrons, 
many of whom were beneficiaries of the liberalization policy of the Babangida 
regime, a policy that unleashed a torrent of banks on the nation, could not find 
enough works to purchase. Some art writers, those faithful "friends of artists," 
blinked uncomfortably with envy. Many wished, humorously of course, that they 
were artists. Contemporary Nigerian artists had .never had it so good. It was so 
paradoxical: a struggling economy became the catalyst for a booming arts market. 
Among the many factors that unleashed this creative fervor was the War Against 
Indiscipline (WAI) program that was initiated by the Buhari government in 1984. 
People were encouraged to perceive and create beauty in their environment. Local 
counties vied for the neatest local government awards. The desire to beautify the 
environment found favor with designers and artists. For the first time, public art on 
massive scale attracted the attention of bureaucrats at various levels, state and 
local in particular. In Lagos, murals sprang up on public walls. Perhaps the best 
example dating from this period was the stylized mural on the walls of the 
Orthopedic Hospital in Igbobi. At Ikeja, the statue of Chief Obafemi Awolowo 
mounted a pedestal and flashed the familiar victory salute. At Idumota, Yusuf 
Grillo's gracious Eyo sculpture was erected, just as Herbert Macaulay's statue was 
mounted on the rostrum, to preside over public affairs at the Sabo junction. Many 
more public sculptures, some of which were an eyesore, sprang up at various 
public places in Lagos and the sprawling suburbs. The other factor that spurred 
V 
<GLENDORA mVWVI xAfrlcan Quarterly on the ArlsxV0I3@No2> 
<65>
The other factor 
that spurred visual 
activity in the 1980s 
was Babangida's 
deregulation 
strategy which 
wiped out the 
middle class and 
created a new class 
of nouveau-riche, 
many of whom 
flirted with the arts 
visual activity in the 1980s was Babangida's deregulation strategy which wiped 
out the middle class and created a new class of nouveau-riche, many of whom 
flirted with the arts. Suddenly, collecting became a serious pastime among this 
class, heightening the dizzying pace at which artists struggled to show their work. 
This was also the era of elegant architectural designs, particularly at the new 
residential areas in Ikoyi and Victoria Island as well as other exclusive residential 
areas scattered in suburban havens. This was also the time that designer gates 
made their triumphant entry into Lagos. Artists like Olu Amoda popularized this 
genre, turning a simple decorative device into some of the most wonderful relief 
works that also double as security devices in Lagos. 
The Art Market 
Babangida's economic poltergeist soon dissolved into the lagoon mist, just as 
the General lost favor with the public and found comfort in tactical retirement. By 
the early 1990s, the numerous banks that sprang up as a result of the market 
reforms collapsed on a massive scale. Many of the bank executives went to jail, 
not necessarily because they loved it. Others fled the country. Art patronage 
floundered and the arts stuttered. It was not unusual for erstwhile collectors to 
return pieces that they had earlier purchased at exhibitions. Even before the 
economic death knell made nonsense of this new culture of collecting, artists 
were known to have been given a raw deal by some collectors. The idea was to 
attend the formal opening of an art exhibition and indicate interest in purchasing 
some pieces. Red tags were then promptly placed on them, indicating, in effect, 
that such pieces had been sold. At the end of the show, the patron would now 
begin the second act: haggling over the price. The artist, stupefied and angry, 
would in most instances agree to a lower price. Even that did not guarantee that 
payment would be prompt. 
Galleries 
Investment in the contemporary art market in Lagos is a huge risk. First, there 
is no reliable blueprint that allows investors in this area to chart a business path 
without occasional or, at times, sustained bouts of harassment or intimidation by 
enthusiastic but idle public officials. To run a successful gallery, one must be 
prepared to negotiate a labyrinth that is mined with unpredictable challenges 
from several interest groups. In a nation where there is no sustained policy on the 
visual arts, where the Ministry that ,s charged with responsibility for providing firm 
guidelines is itself often afflicted with disjunction and mired in petty bureaucratic 
politics, art dealership has evolved on its own, often in fits and spurts Developments 
tend to indicate that federal and state governments' investments in the visual arts 
have not yielded anticipated results. Unable to attract any appreciable membership 
or incapable of sustaining streams of v,s,tors on regular basis, plagued by a rash 
of thefts, and severely strapped for cash, the National Museum at Onikan marketed 
itself as an alternative space for contemporary art 
Meanwhile, the National Gallery of Art at the National Theater, Nigeria's premier 
XZ t°r 7tempOrQ/ y Qrt' r e ~ ° bunted space, locked within the most 
tele ' • T V * *" Mmi 9 ~ e n t »«'«* °«°rd. The oppressive 
e 3 Z T o l 1 tlOnd G a " e r y C ° m b i n e s * * humidity t o pose considerable 
war s cOnce I " 0 " W ° r k e r S W h ° Q r e r e q U ' r e d t o t e n d *> * o s . h aPl e S S a r t 
Tn he °eZ 9 6 Qrt W ° r k S ' t h e q U 6 S t l O n IS n°< Aether deterioration will set 
Pi omles N u "* ^ d e V Q S t a t ' n9? T h e N a t — ' Gallery poignantly 
gobbles and X t l r i i belea9Uered ^ T 
SSZU he i 77 
cultural policy ancI ceded1 M'n'Ster °f Culture went a9°inSt 
NationalCoun , o A r , and c T ""' P ™ ' 
Nigerian Artists « £ £ £ % £ " I f *• ' — - of the Society of 
ministers before the National r I °P l n ' O n ^ ' ° b b y a s u c c e s s i o n °' 
appear that this new s/at ,7 o d T e V e n t U a " y r e 9 ° i n e d "S StatUS'3 " ™°M 
is good only on paper. The gallery, in spite of its good
intentions, is severely hamstrung by lack of consistency in policy implementation, 
which itself is a direct result of the high rate at which ministers of culture are hired 
and dispensed with. Since 1984, when the Second Republic was terminated by the 
Buhari coup, there have been thirteen ministers in total, with responsibility for 
culture.4 
The apparent instability created by such a high turnover of public officials has 
had remarkable reverberations in the private sector. At the height of the economic 
burst, some of the galleries folded up while new ones experienced premature 
demise. Two major private galleries that weathered this turbulence are Didi Museum 
and Signature Gallery, both of which are located at Ikoyi. It is safe to say that, 
today, riding on the goodwill created by a new democratic dispensation, old 
galleries are expanding, and new ones are emerging once again. Among these 
are Mydrim and Nimbus, both of which are also in Ikoyi. Chike Nwagbogu of 
Nimbus seems poised to introduce new ideas to the business of marketing art 
works. Apart from having a sophisticated taste for the new breed, he initiated, in 
1999, an auction sale whose significance lies in its novelty and the promise of 
sustenance. In spite of all of this, the professionalization of galleries in Lagos 
remains rudimentary. 
Artists and Epochs 
In the fall of 1999, I had the opportunity to visit Lagos after a hiatus of almost 
seven years. It was not long before I came to the conclusion that my expectations 
for new creative flanks were grossly unrealistic, premature, and misplaced. 
Contemporary visual expressions in Lagos remain at the crossroads. Other than 
those artists who have already established themselves, Lagos has not, in the last 
decade or so, been blessed with many new artists whose work merit more than a 
tepid nod. It is this lack of infusion of a new dynamism that introduces an element 
of stagnation. One is constrained to ask: what are the art and design schools up 
to? My optimism for an invigorated art circuit in Lagos has a direct correlation with 
my exposure to, and greater appreciation of the tenor of visual expressions on a 
global scale. In other parts of Africa—Johannesburg and Dakar, for example— 
new creative frontiers are being tackled and new idioms are being explored. Old 
ideas are being revisited, recycled or reconfigured in a way that affirms the cultural 
heredity of South African artists at the same time that it amplifies their voices not 
only in their country but beyond. In comparison, Lagos, with a smug sense of 
complacency, looks ossified and dated. Even anachronistic. 
There are several questions that can be posed in determining whether Lagos is 
creatively stagnant, or is charting a productive course. What new thoughts are 
artists grappling with? In the realm of ideas, how daring, compelling, innovative, 
outrageous, even mind-boggling, are Lagos artists? In what ways do artists in 
Lagos contribute to the global mix in contemporary art? What new languages or 
idioms, what "strange" but riveting works are being produced? Who are the ones 
on the cutting edge? Are there groups of like-minded, probably unorthodox but 
passionately committed artists who are bent on rupturing the existing order? Are 
there any new schools, or new art caucuses? What are the existing outlets where 
artists can brainstorm, disagree, or be provoked into making the huge leaps— 
both in imagination and in actuality—without which the arts are confined to recycle 
themselves and eventually peter out? In terms of methods, techniques, and 
approaches, what are the challenges that artists in Lagos are confronting? What 
new media or combinations—in photography, electronics, computer and video 
art, installations and non-traditional modes—are being explored? One is not 
even going to ask about the impact of cyberspace on the creative tempo. 
Significant epochs and milestones in the visual arts are measured not necessarily 
by the volume of works sold at art exhibitions, however important a factor this may 
be, but by the quality of the works—the pathos and aesthetic dislocation that they 
inscribe, the visual bite or conceptual energy that they harbor. Creative authorship 
could sometimes be onerous, particularly where those who are involved appreciate 
the historical enormity of their contributions. In this regard, artists, philosophers, 
writers among others fall within the vital bracket whose responsibility it is to 
<GLENDOHA BEVIEW></4/;7cw; Quarterly on the -4//.<><V0l3@No2> 
<67>
encapsulate social thought in physical, abstract or textual forms. As visionaries, 
artists inspire the polity and capture social dreams, endowing them with physical 
presence. They catalyze robust ideas at the same time that they fire the social 
imagination: the communal elan vital. Lagos has always been central to 
contemporary art in Nigeria. It is a tradition that dates back to the 1920s when 
Chief Aina Onabolu initiated a dialogue with the colonial administration, resulting 
in a commitment to art education. This tradition has its own historical undulations. 
In the first two decades of this brief history, Onabolu and Murray invested their 
time and resources in laying what has turned out to be a solid foundation of art 
and art education in the country. Of course, the initial focus was on Lagos where 
they taught art in a number of secondary schools. By the 1950s, there had been 
a sufficiently large body of students interested in art to warrant its introduction at 
the tertiary level. Yaba at this time experienced the beginning of what was to be a 
long and continuous series of expansions of the art curriculum. 
In the sixties, Lagos began to assert its presence in the cultural area. This was 
the decade of Nigeria's independence. The presence of Grillo and Onobrakpeya 
in the city changed the tempo in visual circles, just as the combination of Michael 
Crowder, Ulli Beier and, to some extent, Eve de Negri, provided the necessary 
critical checks and balances. This was the golden era of Nigeria Magazine, then 
in its fourth decade of publication. It was the authoritative source on a variety of 
topics, from local festival to vintage photographs; from close-ups on artists to 
poems and scholarly articles. As a corollary of this development, patronage 
experienced its first boom. With active encouragement by expatriate interests in 
Lagos—the Wolfords, the Mundy-Castles and the Vaughn Richards among othersit 
was no longer necessary to be apologetic for daring to be an artist. The paradox 
to this development was that by the end of the decade, local interest had been 
sufficiently stimulated to initiate the rise of indigenous patronage of the arts. 
The first serious attempt at catering to the taste of patrons began with artists like 
Festus Idehen, Felix Idubor, and Tayo Aiyegbusi at the vanguard of an incipient 
galleries business. In this, their activities complemented those of the Exhibition 
Center at Marina, the primal space for contemporary artists in the city. There were 
also Gallery LABAC and Afi Ekong's Bronze Gallery. With the passage of Chief 
Onabolu early in the sixties, Ben Enwonwu, the colossal modernist, reigned as the 
doyen; his status as Federal Art Adviser was echoed in the equally imposing figure 
of Sango, itill at the facade of NEPA in Marina. Yusuf Grillo began his ascendancy 
as the sole authority on large-scale and tantalizing murals that still adorn the 
waNs of pubhc buildings in the city-at Adeniran Ogunsanya Shopping Complex 
and the Gty Hall among others. St. Gregory's College gave appointment to a 
young art teacher: B.R Onobrakpeya. It was an appointment that would have 
significant reverberations in the visual firmament. The Society of Nigerian Artists 
was founded. Lagos was where things were happening 
In the seventies, Emily Aig-lmoukhuede's Gong Gallery was the dominant name 
17 9Q"e r y , F r ° m itS n u d e u s a t L a k e Street, i t expanded to Leventis and 
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5 A Glimpse into Our
Above: UnW/ed, Abayomi Barber 
Preceding page: Muraina Oyelami, Sis 
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Wole Lagunju, Yoruba Culture, 1996 
<CLENDOBA REVIEWxAfrican Quarterly on the ,4/T5><V0I3@No2>
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Above: Victor Ekpuk, Another Fisher man's Story, Acrylic painting on Islamic Slate, 1997. 
Opposite page: Oshodi Oke, Kolade Oshinowo, Acrylic on canvas. 47.5" x 45", 1999. 
<GLENDORA REVIEW?'><African Quarter/yon theArtsxV0l3@No2> 
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Nkechi Nwosu-lgbo, Expecting Tomorrow, 
Acrylic, photographic film & photographs on paper, 50 x 65.5cm, 2000. 
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Top: Uche Edochie, Picking up the pieces II, Acrylic on paper, 65 x 50cm, 2000. 
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Osahenye Kainebi, Clown, Power and Poverty 1999 Mixed media (8 panels), size 244 x 325 cm. 
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independence in the sixties, certainly knew what it was to stand tall and proud 
amongst other students in an era when being an art major was tantamount to 
obligatory mendicancy. Although, in recent years, Onobrakpeya has rekindled 
his love of painting, producing large canvases that are grounded in historical, 
social and mythological narratives, his primary affinity stays with printmaking and 
allied media. In this, Onobrakpeya continues to plumb the creative mines, producing 
works that move away from the low relief terrains that printmaking thrives on. He 
has persistently expanded the visual vistas, allowing his eclecticism to blossom in 
three-dimensional installations that recall sacred shrines and groves. On the other 
hand, Grillo's multidimensionality is best appreciated at the intellectual level where 
his grasp of existentialist tenets accounts for his fertile embrace of new media, 
most of which he pioneered. Grillo's mastery of Christian theology not only 
demonstrates his embracement of diversity (he is a devout Muslim), but it also 
confirms the point that existentialism and religious thoughts are not mutually 
exclusive. Today, most prized mosaic murals and stained windows in Lagos and 
other parts of Nigeria bear his unmistakable imprint. This is in addition to an 
uncanny versatility in three-dimensional and relief sculptures, as can be seen in 
the major commissions that he has successfully executed in this medium. 
Prior to graduating from Zaria in 1972, Kolade Oshinowo had determined that 
the future of contemporary art lay in a thriving, energized exhibition circuit. Using 
exhibitions as his weapon, Oshinowo launched at the tepid art scene in Lagos 
and began a frenetic and demanding exhibition schedule. His success in this area 
has left no one in doubt that, as that popular (even if a bit vulgar) saying goes, 
you produce foam only by peeing on one spot. Oshinowo remains the most 
conservative in the exploration of media: his main forte remains painting. Within 
this ambit, however, he remains perhaps the greatest stylistic explorer that Lagos 
has produced. Although there is something patently Oshinowoesque in every 
piece that he produces—a creative DNA, if you wish—each work differs from the 
other in subtle shades that are appreciated only where one is privileged to review 
his oeuvre. Is he a realist, an Impressionist, a Postimpressionist, an Expressionist, 
or an abstract painter? Is he a documentarist, a landscapist, a social critic or a 
conscientious observer and student of nature? He is a little bit of all of these. 
In the 1970s, Abayomi Barber, the self-effacing multidimensionalist, began a 
quiet revolution in a nondescript space on the campus of the University of Lagos. 
Returning to Lagos after more than a decade of studies and work in London, 
Barber joined the faculty of a program that metamorphosed into the Center for 
Cultural Studies later in the decade. It was in the art studio of the Center that 
Barber began to work his magic on young and impressionable minds whose 
main offences were that they were addicted to the visual arts, and were indigent. 
The result is what is now referred to as the Barber School, undoubtedly a critical 
core of what I call the Lagos School of Realism. Exemplars of the Barber School 
include Muri Adejimi, Kent Ideh, Olu Spencer and Toyin Alade. The Lagos School 
of Realism, on the other hand, would include artists like Biodun Olaku and Josy 
Ajiboye, the cheerful, large-hearted pragmatist whose name is synonymous with 
cartooning in Nigeria. Olaku and Ajiboye simulate the verve and minutiae of life. 
Although both of them favor mimesis, they differ stylistically. Olaku's style of realism 
palpitates: a residual energy tends to make his paintings bubble in a way that 
recalls Honore Daumier. On the other hand, Ajiboye charts a personal track that 
traces a remote indebtedness to the Wyeths and Norman Rockwell. 
The works of Muri Adejimi and Toyin Alade continue to fascinate their admirers. 
Adejimi works in the stable safety of what goes as the Nigerian version of Surrealism. 
Now, neither Muri nor his mentor, nor, indeed, any of his peers in the Barber 
School, seems to be dogmatic about Surrealism. They are not overly doctrinaire in 
the mold of Andre Breton, the Parisian thinker whose 1924 manifesto extolling 
psychic automatism gave Surrealism its credo.5 Although psychic automatism is 
the essence of European Surrealism, Abayomi Barber's African version is shorn of 
all the philosophizing. Combining aspects of Western art training with elements of 
traditional apprenticeship method, Barber instilled in his "apprentices" a painstaking 
grounding in the rudiments of visual observation, stressing the importance of 
skills over the fickleness of chance, intuition or misguided creative gumption. In 
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the mastery of skills and techniques, no less than in the synthesis of imported and 
local ideas, Muri Adejimi remains the dominant artist and the crowning jewel of 
the Barber School. 
The eighties was the most impassioned and active era: it was politically convulsive, 
economically challenging and culturally stimulating. As many young artists from 
Yaba, Auchi and Zaria flocked to the city, the exhibition scene came alive. Rahman 
Akar, the astute business strategist, began to lay the foundation of his Signature 
Gallery. At Iganmu, Bisi Fakeye stood tall and, with the solid support of two 
idealistic young artists from Yaba College of Technology, Biodun Olaku and Bunmi 
Babatunde, started what has crystallized into the Universal Art Studios on the 
apron grounds of the National Theater. There, Fakeye established a formidable 
creative bridgehead that challenged bureaucracy and won (so far at least) the 
respect of some administrators. At issue was the power to function as artists, 
unfettered by the demands of regular appointments, and unshackled by the choleric 
temper of clueless bosses. This move was risky at that time as most artists, particularly 
the successful ones, found it easier to work from the safety net that regular 
employment offered. Thus, Bunmi Babatunde, Biodun Olaku, and Bisi Fakeye 
established a colony that has confirmed the success of the self-employment dictum. 
Meanwhile, Olu Amoda arrived at Akoka from Auchi in 1983 and promptly began 
his experimentation and romance with metals turning scraps into |ewels. Hrs singleminded 
exploration of medium has become an obsession. Amoda's work combines 
poetry with sensitivity to social and political imbroglio in a way that invites 
comparison with the work of Melvin Edwards or, to some extent, Richard Hunt. 
This was the decade of the women, even if their ascendancy would amount to no 
more than a mere tokenism personified by Lara Ige and Ndidi Dike. Is it that 
Lagos is unsuitable for women artists, or that women artists have conceded the 
field to men? 
The eighties was indeed an exciting period. Coinciding with the prevailing wave 
of enthusiasm in the visual arts was a complementary vibrancy that came from a 
totally unexpected quarter: the print media. As media organizations, particularly 
newly established ones like The Concord, Newswatch, ThisWeek and The Guardian, 
energized the nation through creative and refreshing packages, there emerged a 
core of writers on the arts desks—Ben Tomoloju, Toyin Akinosho, Jahman 
Anikulapo, and Gbile Oshadipe and many others—whose focus on arts and 
culture opened up a new chapter for the literati and the cognoscenti. This was 
also the period that cartooning made the biggest impact, what with Bisi Ogunbadejo, 
Boye Gbenro, Obe Ess, Dotun Gboyega, and the late Dokun Abioye, undoubtedly 
one of Nigeria's greatest draftsmen. Active cartoonists of this (and of a much 
earlier) period also included Kenny Adamson, Cliff Ogiugo, Osasuwa Osage, 
Ebun Aleshinloye, Bayo Odulana, Tayo Fatunla and Moses Ebong. This was the 
decade that the Cultural Policy was launched. 
It is apparent from the foregoing brief overview that one's disappointment with 
Lagos pertains to the relative dormancy that the nineties brought about. This may 
be attributed to a variety of reasons, perhaps the most plausible being the onset 
of the apparent systemic decay that is a concomitant of several years of mindless 
political tinkering by the military. This apparent stagnation may also be attributed 
to an entrenched political ineptitude and the platitudinous proclivity that was the 
hallmark of bureaucracy, especially in the federal department of culture. The Nigeria 
Magazine was eased into unceremonious desuetude by the authority of a Federal 
Director of Culture who mistook the seething anger of a nonplused public for 
acquiescence. This was a department that must indeed be indicted for perfecting a 
sadistic approach to matters pertaining to artists. The directorate silenced the 
Nigenan Magazine and substituted the voice of its director for the cultural collective. 
n squandered several opportunities at initiating or facilitating what may have 
been a vibrant biennial on the West African coast, and insulated itself from critical 
professional groups. But even such egregious insensitivity to critical issues in the 
held was perhaps not the singular most devastating factor. This honor must be 
g ven to the educational system where instructors were so embattled by a barrage 
b band T 0 ™ W ° e S t h a t Q " t h e y d l d w a s slmP'y e-st. Truancy, cul.ism, 
brigandage and acute indigency combined to strip colleges and universities of 
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their sense of mission. Absenteeism became the standard by which students' 
graduation was computed: the longer your college was shut down because of a 
rash of strikes, the better your chances of graduating without learning much. GR 
NOTE 
1. The notes from which this article was based were generated in the fall of 1999 when I 
was in Lagos to undertake research on visual culture in Nigeria. The research project was 
made possible by a grant from the Central Research Committee of Indiana State 
University, to which grateful acknowledgement is hereby made. 
2. "Molu E" is the local name for public buses in Lagos. When, in the sixties, these buses 
were introduced as a replacement for the wooden truck known as "bole kaja," it was 
given a number of aliases. One of these was "mold it," a reference to the temperamental 
and irreverent bus conductors who were ready, at the least provocation, to mold any 
cheek that refused to pay the correct fare. In time, "molu e" became a derivative of 
"mold it." Other aliases of the bus were "digi e" ("dig it") and "jalekun e," ("break its 
door"). "Danfo" is the term used for (ideally) 9-sitter mini-vans that are much more 
nimble than the molu e, and faster to fill up. It is a coinage that implies independence. 
The uniform yellow color that these as well as all taxi cabs in Lagos spot was introduced 
during the tenure of Alhap Lateef Jakande, the civilian governor of Lagos from 1 979 to 
1983. For a detailed focus on popular culture in Lagos, see Patrick McNaughton, dele 
iegede et al, Five Windows into Africa. (Interactive CD-ROM) Bloomington: Indiana 
University, 2000. 
3. This author was then the President of the Society of Nigerian Artists. Shocked by the 
arrogant attitude of the Minister of Culture at that time (1991), the Society began its 
campaign by publishing a full page advertisement in the Sunday Tunes drawing the 
attention of General Ibrahim Babangida to the minister's egregious disregard for public 
policy. After the minister, Lamban Gwom, was removed from office, the Executive of the 
SNA, again at the behest of this author, met with Sam Oyovbaire, the new minister of 
culture. Eventually, during the term of Walter Ofonagoro, the anomaly was rectified and 
the National Gallery returned to its statutory role as a parastatal. 
4. The following are the names of those who, beginning in 1984, served as ministers with 
responsibilities for arts and culture, in order of succession: Emeka Omeruah; Anthony 
Ukpo; Tony Momoh; Maman Ankah; YY Kure; Lambam Gwom; Jerry Gana; Alex 
Akinyele; Uche Chukwumerije; Walter Ofonagoro; John Nwodo; O|O Madueke; 
Graham Douglas. 
5. As one of those who were inspired by psychoanalysts Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud, 
Andre Breton encapsulated the Surrealist ideal in the "Manifesto of Surrealism" which 
was published in 1924. He defines Surrealism as "Pure psychic automatism, by which one 
intends to express...the real functioning of the mind. Dictation by thought, in the absence 
of any control exercised by reason, and beyond any esthetic or moral preoccupation... 
Surrealism is based on the belief in the superior reality of certain forms of association 
heretofore neglected, in the omnipotence of dreams, in the undirected play of thought." 
See William S. Rubin, Dada, Surrealism, and Their Heritage. (New York: Museum of 
Modern Art, 1 968), p. 64. (Quoted from Gardener's Art Through the Ages, (1 l th Edition). 
New York: Harcourt College Publishers, 2001, p. 1037.) 
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