IJELE: ART EJOURNAL OF THE AFRICAN WORLD ISSN: 1525-447X Issue 5 (2002)

Nkiru Nzegwu

Olu Amoda's Laceration exhibition explores the jagged wounds and cuts of Nigeria's contemporary reality. It draws attention to a range of themes and sub-themes that are a legacy of that nation's corrupt system. According to Amoda, the exhibition makes visible, metaphors that are frequently misinterpreted. It speaks in oblique yet resonant tones about experiences that inspire the artist to create.

The works in the exhibition chart a path between the literal/figurative and the metaphoric. They raise questions about urban, social politics and provide a platform for audiences' analyses. Because Amoda believes that art should move beyond the purely decorative to the provocative, he wants his audience to critically engage his works. He invites them to approach with a critical mind and to always read between the lines. Much of what they will see are symbolic allusions to events that are subject to misinterpretations if they read literally and are seduced by the figurative. He cannot repeat enough that we must read between the lines. While this mental posture can be difficult, Amoda concedes that there are other reasons for misinterpreting his work. One is that human beings see the world differently and so their interpretations may not always converge with his own; and second is that people may not know the social cue for decoding visual images of different cultures and so they invent their own interpretations.

Born at Okere, Warri in Delta State of Nigeria, Olu Amoda studied sculpture at Auchi Polytechnic under Elis Erimona and Murphy Ajayi, two of Nigeria’s distinguished metal constructivists of the early nineteen eighties. Amoda encountered metal for the first time in 1981 and ever since, has created over 2000 metal sculptures that are found in all corners of the globe. The sheer vitality of his images has earned him international attention; and their global distribution means that he is not a provincial but a global artist.

Amoda chose thirty-two of his arresting sculptures and drawings at the time for th Laceration exhibition, out of which fourteen are shown in this online exhibition. Some of the drawings such as Release to the Wild and Kick Back, were done with palette knife and lithographic ink in a technique that conveys the immense speed of a racing horse and the powerful motions of a bucking horse. Amoda loves horses and Amoda cannot resist an opportunity to showcase the magnificent physique of this animal.

Nigerians have always been global people, and so the theme of globality is one that preoccupies Amoda. Ruminating on the global led him to think about the various ways people are interlinked with one another and the most popular mode of communication that makes this possible. For Amoda, the GSM is one of the symbols of globality that Nigerians have come to appreciate as a truly global phenomenon, and a great Dividend of Democracy, or “demo-crazy” as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti eulogized. Popularly referred to as “gsmism,” GSM cellphones have revolutionized Nigerians' mode of interpersonal interaction. Unlike in previous decades, when telephones were luxury items, and extraordinarily almost never worked, now everyone owns a working cellphone, and can be seen calling, flashing, and text messaging family, friends, and business associates.

The 86 x 72 inch panel that Amoda titled, Dividend of Democracy, evokes this synergy of contemporary global communication and democracy. GSM has fostered democracy by radically democratizing the means of communications. Both the poor and the rich can easily communicate with relatives in different parts of the world. But this equality of access is not all that it appears to be. Although cellphones may appear as a class leveler, they are not really so because the cost of buying and maintaining cellphones are prohibitive for a modest income-earner. Moreover, while it is true that GSM has liberated Nigerians from the tyranny of inefficient, government-run, telecommunication service of the past, it has delivered the poor and middle income earners into the unforgiving world of capitalism and the clutches of privateers of their commonwealth.

The point Amoda wants viewers to appreciate is that GSM has become a new ploy for impoverishment and for corrupt government officials to steal from the masses. In the first place, the cost of privatization of the nation's telecommunications network has not been beneficial to the nation and the generality of people. This is because the proceeds of privatization continue to flow into the coffers of corrupt government officials, as had been the case in past regimes. Meanwhile, more and more impoverished Nigerians are becoming GSM users. As they become addicted to its communication benefits, they increasingly pay a good portion of their paltry wages into the accounts of GSM providers and owners of networks. This enables the latter to easily raise the prices of their goods with the touch a button without necessarily improving their service.

The metal sculpture, Students, also incorporates and extends Amoda's critical view of the everyday. Nobody is spared his acerbic gaze. On the one hand, Amoda indicts Nigerian leaders who have shortchanged the nation's youths and left them with misplaced priorities. On the other hand, he roundly chastises the youths for their own shortcomings, and for accepting to play the victim. He looks at what Nigerian youths could be doing by comparing them with youths in other countries. While their counterparts are protesting global issues that affect them locally, he finds Nigerian youths totally unprogressive. The few so-called progressive ones among them are engaged in destructive criminal activities that do not enhance their own life's worth, such as protesting government corruption by burning down buildings including the headquarters of the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC).

The rowdy city of Lagos is Olu Amoda's reality. Its limitations are what he depicts in unforgiving ways. This Lagos Red Panel and This Lagos Yellow Panel, constructed out scrap metal, reflect the dynamism and energy that drives the city. They also capture the city's sharp rough edges such as the abuses of the highways which the introduction of the seat-belt law attempted to rectify. Although many saw this law as a step in the right direction, Amoda insists on highlighting its idiocy. In his view, Nigerian lawmakers ought to know that the law cannot really work since they have not addressed the real difficult problems of traffic regulation, road maintenance, and transportation. The irony of the seat-belt law is that it protects only the driver, not the other road users. In the chaos that is Lagos traffic, drivers of commuter buses, joined by taxi cabs and private cars owners’, drive against the traffic with impunity. Taxis weave crazily in and out of traffic. Commuter buses careen madly down the road with doors ajar, their conductors hanging precariously to the doorway, and performing dare devil leaps and jumps. These stunts force other motorists to swerve dangerously to avoid running over these hapless conductors, and in the process, they endanger the lives of pedestrians and bystanders.

For Amoda, Lagos lawmakers cannot really claim to be oblivious to these problems since they too use the roads. They know that the police, road safety corps and the new LASTMAN have no capability to correct these problems so why focus on passing laws that cannot work. Once upon a time seat belts did not attract much attention at police checkpoints. Now, with the passage of the seat-belt law, it has become a basis for shaking down drivers and extorting money by poorly paid policemen and traffic cops; not for safe driving.

Reflecting on these road safety issues prods Amoda to recall another hazard of Nigerian life: the tragic decay of its health care facilities. Most have become death centers. In the cause of preparing for this exhibition, his close friend lost a sister-in-law because the orthopedic hospital in Lagos refused to admit the accident victim. This was after a 48-hour trip from the scene of the accident, and numerous stops for treatment at hospitals on the way. There is no question that the state of decay of health facilities calls for urgent attention. It creates an unwholesome situation in which doctors and nurses are pressured to run their own private dispensary within a government hospital so as to save lives. These activities convince Amoda that lawmakers have their priorities backwards. They should be tackling the more pressing issue of health insurance scheme rather than the national identity scheme. In short, lawmakers' ineptitude serve to convince him that whether or not Lagos is cast in a red, yellow or grey light, the jagged sharp edges of the city continues to threaten people's quality of life.

At the Blast They Ran recalls the bomb blasts that tore up a congested Lagos neighborhood, where the Nigerian army located its armory. It recalls the mad rush of people escaping the terrifying explosions of bombs and artillery shells in the armory. Etched in the collective memory of Lagosians are the plaintive cries of children being crushed in the stampede and by falling walls, and parent's mental anguish as they vainly tried to save their children and homes. The city's emotional anguish spilled over as it witnessed the endless processions of officials, and listened to the empty promises of these ghoulish characters.

Indeed, national well being would come from energizing Nigeria's value system with moral goodness and principles. But Nigerians have figured things out differently. In fact, they have niftily pulled out a trick that earned them the incredible title of the happiest people on earth. Owanmbe, the round metal sculpture, refers to the real “owanmbe” experience that engineered this coup. Owanmbe refers to the Nigerian penchant for partying, merrymaking, laughing, and dancing. In the midst of all their economic hardship, chaos and confusion, Nigerians can be found every Friday night hosting sumptuous street parties, wake keepings, naming ceremonies, birthday, or wedding parties that last until dawn. Although these rounds of merriment do not cure their country's ills, the social activities has the anticipated effect of relieving their stress, making them one of the brashest, daring, happy go lucky people on the planet.

Citation Format:

Nkiru Nzegwu. “Olu Amoda's Lac·er·a·tion: A Jagged Beauty of Metal,” IJELE: Art eJournal of the African World: Issue 5, 2002.