© Nkiru Nzegwu

For most Westerners, the connections between Nigeria's contemporary art and its traditional arts are generally made at the visual level. A modern painting or sculpture is accepted as linked to the indigenous art traditions if certain recognizable popular forms are identified in the modern variant, or if the work follows the naive expressionist style popularized by the Oshogbo group of artists. Problems begin when visual parallels are not easily discernible and the painting, sculpture, print, or mixed-media installation displays a high level of sophistication and refinement. Because the connection between Nigeria's modern art and tradition is far too complex to be left to the limited interpretations of Western art historians, critics and curators, this essay attempts to fill some of the void in that critical interpretation. It explores the historical moments in the artistic creations of Olu Amoda, a Lagos-based metal sculptor. It does so through an analyses of his views on politics, his attitude regarding events within his social reality, the connections he is making between his art and tradition, his affinity with metal, and the production of a certain body of works in his uniquely personal style. Fundamentally, I explore the complex (non-imagistic) ways in which the historical and political issues as well as philosophical ideas of indigenous conceptual schemes manifest in Amoda's works. This examination helps to highlight the error and superficial positing of Euromodernist influences as the dominant influence in the works of African artists.

I

For some years now, I have followed Olu Amoda's creative progress with great interest and pleasure. At a time when art in Nigeria means painting a pretty picture, and many artists are hurriedly slapping paint on hardboards and canvases, Amoda has produced a polytonal sculptural idiom that vitally transforms found-metal (his medium of expression) into euphonic artistic creation. Although the art forms probe the interconnections between art, society and culture, and retrieve history for future generations, the tasteful nuance of the forms provide immense visual pleasure.

Euphony is an important speech act where meaning is defined by tone. Agreeableness in sound primes the ear to hear polytonally and distinguish words within the same sound cluster. An example, in Igbo, is -- akwa (cry), akwa (egg), akwa (cloth), and akwa (bed); and in Yoruba, it is -- oka (guinea corn) and oka (gaboon viper). In a tonal language context, such as exists in Nigeria, euphony is an important concept in creative expression since the mind thinks polysemously, and objects have multiple meanings that are richly coded with symbolisms. Within this polysemously structured environment, sculptural objects are concretized utterances, metaphoric sounds that voice parables, perform proverbs, and narrate histories. When such objects or "concretized utterances" are aesthetically agreeable, they can be conceived of as euphonic.

Amoda's superbly welded, poly-tongued sculptures have emerged as refreshing developments in contemporary Nigerian art. In the captivating Windows of Dreams and Doors of Paradise series (on display), he constructs new forms, language, and meaning by freeing his imagination from the restrictive Euromodernist injunctions of "art for art's sake." Amoda reaching into his artistic heritage for models of "living art," that resolves the artificial split between art and function. Selecting his model from architecture, he weaves his clients' identities and professions into the visual idiom of the doors and windows he creates to alter the spatial interiors of their homes. The doors and windows visually speak about things that are of importance in the lives of his clients. In one instance, he used a schematized form of the Mercedes Benz logo to create the central design of the front door to the home of a Mercedes Benz dealer (Doors 13 and14). On another occasion, he "weaved" a painter's palette into the design of the door of an artist friend's home, thereby signaling that the door led into the studio (Doors 11 and 12). In his home and studio at Majaro district of Yaba, the compositional designs of the metal grille of his windows are of aviary scenes, behind which large philodendron creepers, broadleaf lilies, and scalloped-leaf swamp lilies wildly bloom. For another client who is a single mother, he utilized a stylized silhouette of the woman and her daughter to design the heavy metal door, that firmly blocks visitors' access to the client's private quarters. For Mydrim Gallery (Door 7), he tastefully superimposed the gallery's logo on the design of the gate, where it functions as a visual marker and site locator.

Under Amoda's modernized re-translation of the traditional "living art" philosophy, Windows of Dreams and Doors of Paradise are sculptural forms in a utilitarian mode. They are functional art very much in the spirit the superbly carved aafin (palace) caryatids were verandah posts, the beautifully designed bas-relief wooden panels were doors, and the stylized elegant iron birds on Orisa Osanyin's staffs announced the orisa's ase (the divinity's life-force) and iwa (essential character). Working on the principle of relevance, new function art speaks to Nigeria's contemporary needs and life. It infuses creativity into everyday life and living, hence vitalizes and transforms it into a medium for aesthetic appreciation. Amoda extends this philosophy into everyday space by transforming doors, windows and gates into artistic expressions. His bold imaginative creations mend the Euromodernist split between art and utility, and accord contemporary art a salience it never had in modern Nigerian life.

II

My introduction to Amoda's art occurred in 1989, at a group exhibition held at the Goethe Institute, Lagos. Standing out from the other exhibits was Maitatsine I, a snorting metal horse in full gallop with a fiercely determined, off-angled rider intently aiming his spear at an arna (non-Muslim) prey. The work is explosive. The dramatic intensity of the furiously charging horse gives this superbly crafted sculpture tremendous energy and power. The entire weight of the animal rested precariously on the thin narrow span of the foreleg, successfully capturing the exciting, split-second moment before the back-hoofs and the second fore-hoof thunderously pound the earth. Upwards in an impressive arch, the spear and the taut extended arm of the rider sliced the air, sweeping downwards through the rider's off-angled body to the massive frame of the horse.

Mesmerizingly drawn to the horse, I peered at the sculptural collage carefully considering its style and material of construction. Close examination revealed a motley array of nuts, bolts, bits, screws, and other metal odds and ends. Superb craftsmanship and deep artistic vision are displayed in the intricate assemblage of materials. Each nut, bolt, hinge, and metal sheet was thoughtfully placed where it could play a similar role in the horse as it once did in its initial abode in some machinery. Metal sheet wraps around some metal bits to create a human form as it once formed the outer casing of a metal box. Similarly a bolt also connects two parts of the structure of the horse as it once did in some machine to join two metal parts together.

Anxious to see more of Amoda's work, I paid a visit to his scenic outdoors studio, then at Akoka. Set in the midst of lush greenery, this atypical studio frees the artist to draw directly from the surrounding peace and energy of the grove-like setting. Long rubber cables snake and coiled around the earthen floor. Attached to huge gas canisters, they enabled Amoda to reach all the remote corner of the studio with his acetylene torch. This flexibility allowed him to simultaneously create many works at the same time without having to move objects about. Thus, he was able to maintain a high productivity level and precision welding skills since he could effectively utilize every inch of space. All around the perimeter of the studio were evidences of the artist's inventiveness, dexterity and lively imagination that had been the main force of attraction. As I wondered about the studio, stepping over works-in-progress, and momentarily stopping to examine each finished or yet to be completed work, I marveled at the intricate interplay of mass and space, of the sensitive resolutions of the subtle problem of balance, harmony and narrative in each work. Amoda's artistic sensitivity seems to stem from an extraordinarily developed imagination that allows him to "see" counterpoints and balance. This cultivated creative vision is most magnificently displayed in the strong balance and liveliness of his grave historical piece titled, The Visitors, which he created in 1982.

Fig:The Visitors

The Visitors depicts a couple, a man in an agbada (voluminous robes) and a woman in a long wrapper with an iborun (shawl) draped over her left shoulder. The female form seems to lean on a thin long metal rod. The wafer thin metal sheet forms an iro (wrapper) and loosely envelops her from the waist down, giving her a soft demure look. Standing slightly forward to her left is her vitally animated male companion. A broad metal sheet is pinched, shaped and welded into the shape of an agbada. Framing the man's face are cascading shoulder length thin rods. These continue downwards at the back, to the waist and edge of the agbada. In contrast to the woman's cool reserved demeanor, the air about the man sizzles. The agitated tilt of his head, the rakish gait, and the uplifted gesturing arm, convey intense energy and vitality. The Visitors captures the active/passive attributes of a duality principle that Amoda has recurrently grappled with even in a number of sculptures. In this particular work, structural parallelism is displayed in the alignment of the active attribute as male and the passive attribute as female. The volatile passionate nature of the man is skillfully tempered by the cool levelheaded personality of the woman.

Captivated by the energy of the sculpture a question arises: Who are these visitors? At a superficial level, the figures seem to depict a harried Nigerian couple either on their way to, or hurriedly departing from their home or that of a relative or a friend. The theatrical gestures and the rakish swagger in the man's gait suggest an inebriated man whose loud gestures are obviously embarrassing to his more restrained companion. I recall seeing similar dysfunctional couples in departure lounges of local airports while waiting to board a flight. Just as the lounge settles into a lull, in walks one of those brash Nigerian "big men" in sumptuous flowing babanriga (big billowing agbada) with a tired, exasperated wife in tow. Craving attention, these publicity-seeking potentates set up minor stirs that draw quizzical glances from an irritated audience. The commotion drives their long-suffering wives behind impassive facial masks. So completely and exactly did Amoda capture this Nigerian "big man" idiosyncrasy that I saw familiar couples in The Visitors.

The polysemous character in Amoda's work comes into focus when indecipherable codes are encountered. Although the rakish swagger of the male figure undoubtedly captures the flamboyant trait of our bigmen, the rods frozen in mid-swing around the face puzzled. Is this a man or an egungun (ancestral spirit)? If this is a man, and not an egungun what are those rods doing around his face? The perplexity immediately hinted at the inadequacy of the initial interpretation and compelled further inquiry into the identity of the figure. On learning that The Visitors was dealing with a ruler's tragedy, I recalled aspects of Nigeria's history. I "saw" that, in fact, the rods are stylized representations of the stringed beads of the veiled ade nla crown, in which case the couple are royal personages. The Visitors is really a representation of an Oba and his Olori. Not just an ordinary Oba, but an important powerful one from the Oduduwa line.

The ade nla crown undoubtedly marks the male figure as the ruler. Aware of the powerful herbal medicines that are hidden in such ceremonial crowns, and the numerous restrictions surrounding its wearing, it was all the more unusual to find an Oba in a hearty, jolly mood while wearing the crown. Ade nla crowns are usually worn once a year during the major festival of rededication, after the Oba had undergone spiritual purification. The solemnity of the occasion generally compels the Oba to act in a most dignified and reserved manner especially since the crown has transformatory consequences. Obas are closest to their divine essence, in fact, an orisa, at the moment they wear the crown. Subsequently, all their companions are high-ranking chiefs (male and female) and priests and priestesses. Custom forbids them to speak carelessly since their words are ofo, powerful utterances with esoteric force that will come to pass. Thus, the idea of an Oba wearing the veiled sacred crown, and publicly acting in an indecorous manner with just the Olori as his companion, is utterly unimaginable. If it is imaginable, as the sculpture obviously suggests, then something terrible has happened. There must be a tragedy.

Amoda intends The Visitors to capture the unimaginable, to speak to us of the rage of an Oba who at the moment of assuming his divine essence utters ofo against detractors and enemies. Alaafin Awole did so in the 19th century when the Oyo Mesi (the seven kingmakers and highest-ranking chiefs of the Alaafin cabinet) presented him with an empty, covered calabash. As tradition stipulates, this gesture required him to commit suicide. Shooting three arrows, one to the North, one to the South and another to the West, history recounts that he uttered a terrible curse. He cursed his people that they would be carried as slaves to the sea and beyond the sea, where slaves would rule over them, while they the masters would become slaves. In more recent memory, in the early fifties, another Alaafin, Alhaji Adeniran Adeyemi, was reputed to have done this when he uttered ofo at a daring man who sat on his throne with the aim of dethroning him. The foolhardy man not only turned mad, as chroniclers claimed, he died barking like a dog.

In Amoda's euphonic sculptural voice, we see the proud, dethroned Alaafin colorfully striding off into exile with a resolute steadfast Olori. The tilt of the Alaafin's head signs defiance. Frozen in midair, the thin metal rods of the beaded strings of the ade nla radiate grandeur and add a powerful air of resolve to the ofo utterance. They underscore the certainty of the ruler's curse, serving notice that though he has been politically stripped of his office, he still retains his divine essence.

Owing to its contemporary relevance The Visitors seems to allude to the modern tragic story of the 83 years old Alaafin Adeyemi II who, unlike Alaafin Awole who immediately died, became a "visitor" in a foreign land. Unfairly exiled from Oyo after the Lloyd Commission, which probed the 1953 Oyo riot had cleared him of any wrongdoing, Alhaji Adeyemi was forced to move to a residence in Oke Arin, Lagos. He lived there until his death in 1960. While in exile, the Alaafin suffered a great personal tragedy in the death of his son and heir apparent, the Aremo of Oyo, who was also living in exiled in Lagos. The tragedy in both the cases of the ex-Alaafin and the ex-Aremo is not that they returned to Oyo in coffins, but that their banishment were ordered by their own Yoruba son, rather than by a white colonial Governor. In fact, it was the Action Group government of Chief Obafemi Awolowo, then Premier of Western Region, which acted extrajudicially in ordering the exile.

III

These historical moments of Nigeria's history are enlivened by Amoda's refreshingly dramatic way of telling them. They bring history to life and add a euphonic flavor to the style and tone of narration. During my 1989 studio visit, I saw a number of memorable sculptures or "historical texts" in the Maitatsine series. Named after the leader of a botched 1982 jihad, the sculptural forms of mounted horsemen in this series, commemorate the Maitatsine disaster that many political leaders would prefer to forget.

During the social and economic depression of the early 1980s, an itinerant Muslim cleric or alkali named, Maitatsine, emerged. This maverick figure convinced the poverty-stricken talakawas (commoners) of Kano that the cause of the social problems lay in their impure lifestyles. He admonished that salvation lay in an unquestioned acceptance of his authority, in believers' total commitment to the Islamic faith, and in ridding the cosmopolitan city of Kano of unbelievers. Pledging their life to Allah and to their teacher, the jihadists emerged from their stronghold and launched a reign of terror on the city. Caught unawares, people were haunted down and slaughtered in the streets. Pregnant women were disemboweled and slain, and single women were branded prostitutes and flayed alive. Countless non-Muslims were massacred, Igbos, especially were targeted, and churches and businesses were razed to the ground.

In the height of these atrocities, President Shehu Shagari and the Federal Legislature under the chairmanships of Joseph Wayas and Ume Ezeoke carried on with business as usual in Lagos. In Kano, the city of the massacre, Governor Abubakar Rimi and his legislature reacted with stunning indifference, naively hoping that the problem would go away. The press alerted the nation of the crises. But more interested in playing politics than in good governance, the Federal Government, dominated by the National Party of Nigeria (NPN), and the Kano State government, controlled by the People Redemption Party (PRP), wasted valuable time as they schemed to embarrass each other with the event. By the time public opinion was galvanized by the press and the Armed Forces were called out to restore order, the jihadists were so buoyed by their early successes that they believed they were invincible. Refusing to back down in the face of superior military firepower, they took on the Army and Air Force head on, and fought to a bloody suicidal end.

Composite studies of lone and group riders, both in the round and in two-dimensional relief plaques, abound in Amoda's studio. A three-dimensional variation of the Maitatsine theme is the Surge. The sculpture portrays a group of mounted fanatics, savagely slashing, jabbing, and tearing, and madly dashing after an unseen prey with spears jutting out at awkward angles. As with other works in the Maitatsine series, the horses in Surge are the focal point of the sculpture as they were in Maitatsine's jihad. Amoda's detailed attention to these animals is counterbalanced by his abbreviated treatment of the warriors. It seems that he deliberately paraphrased the fighters to underscore their collective loss of identity and individual responsibility before a consuming religious passion. His position seems to be that the loss of individual identity has robbed these religious fanatics of a vital aspect of their humanity. The careful attention he gave to the horses suggests that only the animals, which have forcefully been conscripted into this heinous exercise, is worth individuated attention.

Amoda's thematic exploration of horses covers a wide range of forms and follows an additive, welding process of construction. Metal is used as a medium to achieve his dreams because they best survive the test of time, he claims. Since his first close contact with horses at Auchi, Amoda has focused on the agility, speed and power of the animals. Many hours were spent at the Lagos Polo Club and at Polo matches minutely studying and sketching the different slow, swift, and graceful movements of horses and their riders. From his days at Auchi Polytechnic, the infinite range of movement of equestrian forms captured Amoda's interest. This fascination has crystallized in works that range from the slightly naturalistic, as in the Maitatsine series and Dancing in the Sun I and II, to the highly stylized forms in the Polo series, and to the satirical pieces, as in A Little Bit to the Left. The latter is a comical representation of the official emblem of the State Democratic Party's (SDP).

At the other emotional end of the Maitatsine series is Dancing in the Sun I & II (art work in the background), a two-dimensional sculpture that focuses on the lithe prancing form of two cavorting horses. These two-dimensional forms are specifically created for Nigerian clients who prefer that sculpture to be mounted on walls rather than displayed in the round. It is significant that this patron/artist interaction has resulted in the proliferation of two-dimensional welded relief compositions. It is often the case that art historical evaluation of contemporary African art minimizes the degree to which Nigerian patrons and collectors have been instrumental in developing new aesthetic genres and forms.

At the heart of Amoda's seemingly obsessive, yet innocuous preoccupation with the aesthetic form of horses is a deeply held commitment to a number of social and political issues that go to the very foundation of Nigerian national unity and nationhood. Read critically, he intends the Maitatsine series to ask: To what extent can we claim to belong to one nation when Nigerians are killed with impunity in one part of the country simply because of their religious beliefs? Troubled by the horrendous human tragedy, Amoda wonders what it is about the political, social, and economic culture of the North that generates such intense uncontrollable feelings of hostility toward other Nigerians? Why must religious fervor constantly translate into a fanatical movement that eliminates the right and life of others? In one decade alone, Nigerians have witnessed grisly horrors, unleashed by one maverick Muslim cleric after another. First it was Maitatsine; then Maruwa, less than two years later; then another infamous cleric in Bauchi; as well as a host of others whose names do not register in national memory, either because of the limited scope of their operations, or because their plans were nipped in the bud.

Amoda is well aware that no adequate answer can be given to the troubling issue of northerners antagonism towards southerners without addressing the prevailing sociopolitical conditions and religious culture that foster the climate for such tensions. His aim, therefore, is to create many "tongued" works that invite people to reflect on the social and political situation of the country. Preoccupied with opening up spaces for dialogue and change, Amoda names and sets up the Maitatsine series as a foil against which Nigerians are enticingly drawn into a closer examination of the reasons for the numerous religious flash points in their history. Such a study, he hopes, would inevitably lead to a reassessment of our commitment to national unity since we would be hard pressed to find a justification for the killing of Nigerians. Ultimately, Amoda's goal is to ask us to consider that, if after eighty years of unification, there are still intense ethnic and religious antagonisms in Nigeria, then perhaps, it is time to seriously consider whether we really should be together.

The radical idea being canvassed by Amoda is that the religious flash points may, in fact, be signals of the inherent incompatibility of the diverse constituent groups of this country. Certainly, they are indicators of more fundamental fissures in the foundation of the nation. He makes this point with United By Alliance, a steel-plated hollow shaped gong, that mutely "sounds" the inscribed names of Army officers who have been executed for plotting to overthrow the government. At the upturned end of the gong, a circular, flat metal sheet seals up the hollow cavity. Rising from the center of this circular sheet is a thin pole on which a flag is hoisted, and on which a hat perches at its apex. The downward drape of the flag draws attention to the 'V' shaped forms decoratively skirting the circular edge of the gong. The six 'V' shape forms are victory signs. They reference the six successful coups in Nigeria's history: the two coups of 1966; and the others in 1975, 1983, 1985, and 1993.

The close proximity of the six victory signs and the names of executed officers amplifies the peculiar irony of military rule, in which the executioners (successful coup plotters) and the executed (unsuccessful coup plotters) are involved in exactly the same illegal act. Yet one group is vilified and killed, the other group is lauded and honored. Pushing the debate beyond the "end justifies the means" cliché, Amoda raises the question of legitimacy for military governments. Is not the act of coup plotting rooted in illegality and morally reprehensible? If all coups are inherently derive from illegal basis, then the success of a plot cannot nullify the illegitimacy at the root of the plot. Right?

United By Alliance underscores this point by tarring both the successful and aborted coup with the same brush. It addresses the hypocrisy of successful plotters in striving to transcend the criminality in their act by outlawing coup d'etats, the very mechanism that brought them to power. Amoda's argument is not simply that military rulers have no power to kill other coup plotters, or that they cannot claim a moral and juridical right to kill its opponents. His message is that regardless of their role as champions of law and order, the successful coup plotters are criminals by the very same standard that they are using to judge and execute unsuccessful plotters.

This state of affairs in which criminals are running the government constitutes a public invitation for democratic change to be instituted. Amoda's skillful introduction of the touchy issue of democracy highlights the polytonal voice of his sculptural language and of United By Alliance. He invites us to also attend to the political issue of ethnic cleansing, inherent in the politics of coup d'etats in Nigeria. The names inscribed on the wall of United by Alliance are more than just symbolic reminders of the conceptual defect of coup plotting, or of the frustrations of millions of Nigerians over the military's obstruction of the democratic process. They are about a disturbing practice of ethnic cleansing in the Nigerian Armed Forces.

United By Alliance highlights the fact that Benue State army officers have consistently and systematically been the targets of execution in the aftermath of unsuccessful coups. Formerly a dominant group in the officer corps of the military, the number of high-ranking Benue State officers has been decimated in a series of executions. In 1976, a number of them were killed after General Bisalla's failed coup. Ten years later, in 1986, a substantial number was executed after General Mamman Vatsa's aborted; and in 1990, another batch lost their lives following the coup of Gideon Orkar. The fact that nearly all the victims were from one state indicates that ethnic cleansing was as much a vital objective as the consolidation of Hausa/Fulani interests in the Armed Forces.

Amoda's focus on these executions sheds light on the negative effects of regionalism in Nigerian politics. The divisive nature of that politics suggests that national unity must have been built on an extremely shaky ground. United By Alliance allows us to revisit the turbulent history of northern Nigeria and the constructed idea of a monolithic, Muslim North. The review serves to remind us that indigenes of Benue State have historically been disenfranchised and dispossessed under the hegemonic rule of Hausa/Fulani leaders. The executions of officers from this region testify not just to the vicious nature of regional politics, but to the fact that coup d'etats are manipulated to serve hegemonic ends. Depressing, as this information may seem, Amoda does not urge resignation. It is true that coups will occur since ambition, greed and avarice are powerful incentives, and fawning reception awaits successful plotters. But he believes that the deterrent to coup plotting lies in the repeated administrative blunders and economic ineptitude of successive military regimes. This in his view would eventually galvanize people to reject military adventurism in politics.

IV

Fig. Before the Finish Line

While the critical challenge of United By Alliance is that Nigerians should dispassionately reflect on their differences and determine the future of the nation, Amoda wants to ensure that this undertaking proceeds with much critical rigor. He casts a cynical gaze at the political scene to urge us not to let our guard down. In Before the Finish Line, he presents a political arena in which weighty issues of national interest and unity are being discussed by a large group of aspiring politicians. Whether or not these national issues will be given careful consideration is a matter of conjecture as Amoda assembles his answer. His response is a freestyle installation of autonomously distinct, yet uniformly similar male figures shuffling along in unison to some unforeseen destination. Both the steel-plated and rust colored mini-men have clean, lean graceful lines. The satire in the work begins with the fact that all the figures in this political race are the same length, the same height, the same lithe form, and the same character. With great aplomb, Amoda inquiries of us what we expect from a horde of sleek politicians who, regardless of their vast number, look alike, run alike, think alike, and act alike.

To ensure that we arrive at the correct answer, Amoda obligingly provides extra leads even though the overstated uniformity of the runners' suffice. First, he informs us that this race is symbolically representative of all political races and elections that have been held in Nigeria, at least since independence. Then, drawing from our knowledge of Nigerian political history, he asks us to factor in the runners' self-absorption, their egoist delusions, and narcissistic concerns for their own welfare. Thirdly, he wants us to dwell on the all-male constitution of the runners in the leadership race and to reflect on the excluded gender. Provocatingly, Amoda queries: given the chauvinist attitude of Nigerian politicians, their egoism, disinterest in nurturing, and utter lack of accountability, and combine this with their past history of ineptitude, administrative bungling, and political disasters, what constructive solutions and programs can we reasonably expect from this cast of politicians?

Hope rather than pessimism is what Amoda wants to sell. In his view, it would be foolhardy to relapse into lethargic pessimism and to forego political participation. The reason for this can be found in Tribute to Igwe, a powerful and moving memorial that proves the need for informed political action and good governance. In one of its outrageous demonstrations of insensitivity, the all-male Armed Forces Ruling Council (AFRC) under the command of the retired General Ibrahim Babangida, introduced in 1991 a number of unutterably harsh structural adjustment programs (SAP) without the least consideration for the plight of ordinary citizens. Stretched beyond the limit of human endurance, the ill-served citizens erupted in what was officially known as the SAP riots. During this 1991 uprising, the gluttonous AFRC all-male elite club unleashed its all-male goon squad (the army and police) on starving protesters who were made out to be unpatriotic citizens. About on his own business on the day of the uprising, the dimwitted goons ostensibly captured the nationally celebrated xylophonist, Igwe, as a "rioter". Severely beaten, he was thrown with other "captives" into a suffocation chamber where he and twenty others died.

Recalling the tragic events of Igwe's death, and the prompt exoneration of the security forces that followed, Amoda conceived Tribute to Igwe, both to affirm the xylophonist and to celebrate his musical accomplishments. Although the memorial unequivocally indicts the AFRC and its "law enforcement", its importance also lies more in its recovery and narration of history in a voice that restores the dignity and worth of ordinary people.

The installation memorial is composed of copper plaque, cloth, welded metal xylophone, and a wood stand. Set in a recessed corner of a room is the three-foot high, white wood stand on which sits a miniature metal xylophone and a player. A deep narrow searing crack runs down the middle of the stand. The ugly crack represents the gaping chasms in our national consciousness created by the rapacious avarice of our all-male leadership. At a deeper spiritual level, the gap also invokes the cycle of life and death; symbolically marking the painful wound experienced by Igwe's mother at his birth, by his family at his death and by the entire nation at his untimely death. Resting on the red draped stool in front of the stand is a xylophone once played by Igwe. The dark red cloth doubly alludes to the blood that was spilt at his birth and at his death. Also, it speaks of the blood of countless Nigerians, poured as libation for the gods of corruption, avarice and egoism. At the top of the wood stand, slightly out of reach of the xylophone, hangs a longitudinal narrow copper counter-repoussée plaque with a pictographic signature of the deceased. The xylophonist is shown fully clothed in ceremonial attire, seated against the horizon, and obliviously and serenely playing a timeless silent tune that fills the void of infinity.

The morale of Tribute to Igwe is that political participation is crucial if we are to avoid the sorts of dictatorial policies that marked part military regimes. We cannot afford to leave matters in the hands of those who have repeatedly proven that their interest in national politics is self-directed. As Amoda sees it, the future of Nigeria is too important to be treated with either levity or apathy. If we are desirous in having a country we have to be prepared to build one.

V

Amoda straddles the past and the present ever cognizant of the history that lies in between, and retaining a deep appreciation of the spiritual, interconnected nature of life. As he asserted in one of his artistic statement, he believes that "expressing myself mystically has a lot to do with the past, which also has a place in the present which in turn forms the springboard for future generations." For him, life is a continuous process of rejuvenation, of replenishing, and of recycling. "New ideas are old, and old ideas are new." Although he sees life as constantly transforming and changing its form, Amoda believes that life is indestructible, that it never destroys into nothingness. This philosophy of the indestructibility of life enables him to reject the idea that a material could be useless. As he sees it, what is supposedly useless and precious can be turned into something useful and elevated to immense artistic heights. And so condemned motor scraps are rescued from their roadside graves and junkyards and transformed into impressive works of art.

The importance of this philosophical belief emerges when we seek to understand the artistic principle of Nigerian art, and the subject position of contemporary artists in relation to their cultural background and tradition. As historically constituted subjects whose formative experiences occur in a specific cultural location, Nigerian artists inevitably reflect on various aspects of specific traditions which they have synthesized and translated through the conceptual framework of their modern identity. Though their contemporized geometric forms and motifs are deeply rooted in traditional philosophies, these translations do not strive for formal or visual resemblances. Because the created visual idioms are different and are often so radical, a hasty uninformed critic would unwittingly ascribe European modernist influences to the art.

The influence of cultural tradition on contemporary Nigerian creativity occurs in complex ways. In Amoda's case for instance, the influence begins with his use of Ogun's material for creative expression. Among the Yoruba and Itsekiri, Ogun is the Orisa or Deity of iron and metal smiting. The creative power of Ogun is perceived to run through the channel of ancestry and lineage, and may be identified by the prefix of 'ogun' in personal and family names: Akobiogun (first born of Ogun), Ogunbiyi (Ogun has begotten this), Are-ogun-buna (one who gets money from Ogun), and Ogundipe (Ogun consoles us with this). Since this ancestral channel is mutually identical to family totems, an individual is distinguished by the attributes that run in his or her lineage. Therefore, Amoda's affinity with metal is not entirely unexpected since his Ijebu father, who made his home in Okere, Warri, was a professional goldsmith, widely recognized for his originality and talent. By the time Amoda was born in 1959 his father had retired from goldsmithing. This phenomenon that would have made the son's interest in metal work and welding unusual were it not for our knowledge that professions tend to be lineage-based among the Yoruba. His initial response to metal as indicated in his artist's statement validates this totemic/genetic link:

Working with metal since 1981, Amoda has deeply reflected on his philosophy and role as an artist. His reflection has led him to a conscious realization of his creative path:

Amoda's claim that his art benefited from a mixture of the old and new, reveals the presence of another conceptual scheme that is not governed by the physical laws of three-dimensional reality. Amoda is not only conscious of recycling metal but also of recycling Ogun. This happens by virtue of a complex logic of beliefs. Within the Yoruba belief system, users and owners of metal objects like cars, motorcycles, or guns generally take out an "African insurance policy." This requires that libation and prayers be offered to Ogun to protect the user or owner from accidents. The invocation of Ogun's spiritual protection is a prerequisite to the use of the metal implements and objects. Libation and invocation transforms one's car or motorcycle into the spirit's abode. Because spiritual energy is self-sustaining and self-replenishing, Ogun's protective force inheres in the metal throughout the duration of use and even after the car has been disposed of as scrap. Since the magnetism of spiritual energy never dissipates, it can subsequently be rescued and recycled with the found-metal into works of art. So, producing art with such ionized metal parts entails riding the spirit of Ogun, a process that requires a creative vision that is purified by the power of the resident spirit. Most importantly, however, the works are powerful spiritual amulets, protecting and vitalizing the spatial environment of the client.

Amoda's recollection of his early years throws light into how he came by his philosophy of living art, and of how he absorbed the connection between art, beauty. Central to this process of knowledge acquisition is Lambeth, his father's former apprentice, whom Amoda fondly remembers as a large impressive colorful man with gold rings and teeth. Lambeth was a regular visitor in the Amoda's home, and the young Amoda often visited the latter's studio which was three houses away. Many of these trips were undertaken when new and former clients of Amoda's father returned to commission gold trinkets for special occasions. Armed with his father's designs, the clients were taken to Lambeth, a skilled craftsman, who then produced the jewelry.

The cordiality between Lambeth and his former master, gave Amoda free access in Lambeth's studio. He remembers being fascinated by the blow torch, by Lambeth's characteristic rhythmic beat on the anvil which he tried to mimic, and by the latter's, clients' and family members' flamboyant use of their body as an environment for integrating art and beauty. The idea that the value and beauty of art lies in its use is not only central to the beautification goal of goldsmithing, it is the central idea of the living art philosophy, which Amoda is practicing today. Living in the milieu of goldsmiths and clients, Amoda absorbed the idea that the comeliness of an exquisitely fashioned gold trinket lies in its performance in enhancing the aesthetic presence and aesthetic space of the wearer. Art, he was gradually being taught, derives its value from its transformation of spatial environments from a physical state of unbecoming to that of comely beauty.

Amoda remembers his father looking over his artistic creations and quietly telling him that he had strong skills in metal and that was where his artistic strength lay. The father's urging collided with the son's desire to move in other directions. Amoda was at that very moment working toward becoming an architect. Rejecting his father's advice, he enrolled to study architecture at Auchi Polytechnic. A chain of events, however, led to him to art, and to end up living his father's prognostication. He switched from architecture to Fine Arts when he discovered that the instructional style in the Fine Arts department encouraged individual experimentation and creativity, while the architecture department did not. Because the latter department stressed conformity and order, he realized that his creativity, which he was very interested in developing, was being stifled. The switch to the Fine Arts department afforded him the opportunity to take courses in metal smiting and welding, and to discover that he had an uncanny intimacy and rapport with metal.

Strangely, yet understandably, the homegrown idea of art as a useful, functional object remains a very odd concept in the colonized mind of some educated Nigerians. Fortunately, the windows and doors in Amoda's Windows of Dreams and Doors of Paradise are seriously forcing them to interrogate this prejudice. The idea that art and utility are intricately intertwined emerged in Amoda's work when he was commissioned by a patron to construct a metal gate, while completing his National Youth Service Corps program at the Fine Arts studio of the Center for Cultural Studies, in Lagos. The sculptural commission provided an excellent opportunity for a slow but detailed examination of the concept of living art, and facilitated his experimentation of how our personal and collective dreams could be given physical form in ordinary life. The work that emerged departed stylistically from his earlier realistic works such as The Peacock (in his personal collection) and Standard Bearers (acquired by the National Council of Arts and Culture). The new genre initiated a personalized style of aesthetics that reshaped the iconographic vocabulary of his pictorial forms.

Amoda's integration of art to gates and windows in the Windows of Dreams and Doors of Paradise series constitutes an actual realization of the idea that sculpture is a living art. The originality of Windows of Dreams and Doors of Paradise lie in the very unconventionality of using windows and doors as legitimate material for artistic expression, as it does in the bold compositional forms he designed for the windows and doors. With most Nigerian house burglary proofed, Amoda undertook the daunting task of convincing his clients that making a home impregnable to armed robbers could be aesthetically done without unsightly steel bars and without sacrificing security for aesthetics. Each door and window he created is an original design, employing heavy steel bars and thick gauge sheet metals, and then tastefully fortified with heavy found-metal parts. Completed, they look like three-dimensional drawings grandly sketched into the gap that once served as windows or doors.

Sitting in Amoda's living room staring through the metal aviary scene to dense swamp shrubbery, and reflecting on Nigeria's history and on how Amoda's sculptures bring that history to life, I mused at the myopic and stereotypical assumptions about Africa and contemporary African art that have obstructed Westerners appreciation of this art. Rejecting exoticization and primitivity, Amoda's function-oriented art is making impressive gains toward eliminating the depressing prison-style window grills that are constant reminders of our self-imprisonment. His creative dialogue with space and history, and his groundbreaking original designs, are fast expanding Nigerians' conception of spatial interiors in ways that reflect the turbulent unstable values of our contemporary times. With the establishment of his Riverside Art and Design Studio in Lagos, he has been able to interest a growing number of people into commissioning doors and windows for their homes. An indication of his success is that, artisans who normally would have produced a functional institutional-style window grilles and doors, are fast copying the designs of his doors and gates.

NOTES

1. Olu Amoda is the founder of Riverside Art and Design Studio, Lagos. He studied art at Auchi Polytechnic, then Bendel State, Nigeria, and in 1983, he majored in sculpture. Since then he has worked as a professional artist. He also teaches sculpture, drawing and modeling at Yaba College of Technology, Lagos. Amoda was once the president of the Lagos Chapter of the Society of Nigerian Artists (SNA). He has won a number of distinguished prizes in art, received numerous residencies, and has exhibited in Nigeria, Germany, Canada and United States. He was born in 1959.

2. Newly revised, this essay was originally written four years ago and published in the premiere issue of Nka: A Journal of Contemporary Art. Most of the information that is presented here remains essentially the same as in the original work. It is still the outcome of an extensive four and a half years process of interviews, conversations, research analysis, interpretation and evaluation of the art, politics and philosophy of Amoda. New material on Amoda is presently being prepared for publication.

3. This door is in the residence of Chinwe Uwatse at Festac Housing Estate.

4. This is in the home of Amudatu Amoda, Financial Controller of Concord Press Plc.

5. Owned and managed by Mrs. Ogunsanya, Mydrim Gallery, is located at South West, Ikoyi, Lagos.

6. Orisa Osanyin is the divinity or deity in charge of herbal medicine.

7. References was made to this commission in the editorial tribute to the late ex-Alaafin, West African Pilot, Tue, February 16, 1960, 4.

8. I have discussed this issue of space, time, and reality in another paper, "Art as Time-Lines: Sacral Representation in Family Spaces Sacred Spaces and Public Quarrels: African Cultural and Economic Landscapes, eds., Ezekiel Kalipeni and Paul Tiyambe Zeleza (Trenton, NJ.: Africa World Press, 1998).

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