Olu Oguibe © 1996

Five years ago almost to the date, I had the honor to speak on art criticism and Africa not so far away from this spot. At the time, I had taken what many saw as a hardline, uncompromising position in arguing that the business of the state of art criticism in Africa should be left with the Africans. It was my opinion, too, that this business is one that ideally should be conducted in Africa. The very idea of discussing art criticism and Africa in London or New York did not seem particularly appropriate to me then. Neither does it now. It is, I believe, a reflection of the sad state of that continent and its leaders that five years on it has fallen on us again to speak about art criticism and Africa outside the continent. Perhaps I ought to mention that in those five years I have had only one opportunity to visit Africa, only one opportunity to visit my country, and may not do so freely today thanks to the presence of a dictatorship that has driven and continues to drive the finest minds, including art historians and critics, out of that country.

The circumstances that have made it impossible for me to return to Nigeria in four years are relevant as we look again at the state and fate of art criticism in Africa, for it is those circumstances that make it inevitable that we must discuss and contemplate Africa from the outside. They are relevant because, while some may believe otherwise, the business of art and its criticism are inextricably tied to much wider and complex questions and dynamics of social and political environment and circumstance, and the health or decay of a society is inevitably reflected in the state of its art criticism. While art may grow and flourish under trying circumstances, albeit in an almost determinable direction, the criticism of art suffers with the general moral and intellectual configurations of a society in distress.

Criticism, afterall, is an intellectual pursuit dependent not on the same compulsive inclinations that we associate with the creative imagination; the drive to create, the moral compulsion to declaim on the state of society, the heroicist propensity to defy obstacles and inhibitions to the creative imagination, the will to rebel. Instead, criticism--art criticism--like bread baking or auto-repair, is dependent on the circumstances of the critic and her environment: her personal and social disposition, her level of stimulation, her ability to attend to the demands of engagement with objects and entities often outside the borders of priority, her disposition to provide a service that, indeed unlike bread baking, is yet to be seen by the public as essential and indispensable. The critic's chore is often a thankless one, and without the burden and expectations that popular appreciation brings to bear on a vocation, be it writing or governance, criticism is vulnerable to the vagaries of its social environment and very rarely does it rise above the failures and shortcomings of this environment. In cultures where the worth of rigor is constantly under pressure from the prevalence of moral compromise and the imminence of decadence, and the pursuit of excellence gives way to exigency and laxity, criticism inevitably suffers. A culture of criticism must inextricably go with a social atmosphere of tolerance, curiosity, availability to scrutiny, and the desire for progress. Equally, there must be relative public understanding and acceptance of the purpose and usefulness of criticism. Without these, and without a general will to excellence, a healthy critical tradition is almost impossible.

The institution of criticism develops, inevitably, as both the foundation and an extension, of the republican spirit. The freedom and will to question, to acknowledge the possibility of alternatives, to evaluate and in doing so discover areas of strength and weakness, to suggest--and if needs be demand--substitution, these are the requisite constituents of the republican ideal. Wherever one thing stands, another stands beside it, goes an Igbo adage. Without such understanding of the impossibility of absolutes, the freedom to question is obliterated. Wherever the freedom to question is threatened or obliterated, wherever the possibility of substitution and transition is denied, the room for a critical culture equally disappears. That dynamic of tension and continual reassessment that drives a society towards both consolidation and self-supercession, that dialectic of progress, is erased. Criticism. Republicanism. The recognition of multiple perspectives. An acknowledgement of fallibility. A culture without one is a culture without the other. Ultimately, a critical tradition is like the animal ability to feel pain. Without it a society looses the ability to properly articulate its strengths and shortcomings, and perhaps much more importantly, to steer clear of harm and the propensity for self-mutilation.

Modern Art Criticism in Africa

As I pointed out five years ago, every art tradition invariably produces some form of critical consciousness and practice. To quote from that treatise, "the truth of history is that wherever there is a tradition of artistic practice, and that means every society and every culture, there is always a system of appreciation, assessment, definition of values and taste." One is compelled, however, to revisit that assertion in light of the foregoing observations and conclusions on the necessity of a free, republican atmosphere as condition for a thriving critical tradition. For, as I also pointed out if only flittingly, whereas Africa's classical cultures had developed institutions of art appreciation and criticism, one must account for the continent's failure in all but a few cases, so far, to go beyond popular criticism to produce equally sophisticated and sustained systems of appreciation, assessment, and the definition of values and taste, in the age of the nation state.

It is noteworthy that in the 20th century the serious vocation of modern art criticism in Africa may be traced to Aina Onabolu, the man who has also been severally although not entirely accurately, cited as the continent's earliest modern artist. As Ola Oloidi's excellent scholarship on Onabolu, as well as the artist's own publications, records and notebooks reveal, not only was his departure from the traditional form and canon predicated upon a deep critical reassessment of that canon in light of the demands and possibilities of a new age and society, this practice of criticality Onabolu equally extended to the new form that emerged largely due to his efforts. The artist's divergences from the position of the teacher Kenneth Murray, are today well-known, and the evidence shows that his convictions, and his application of those convictions in both his pedagogy and critical treatises, precede Murray.

In West Africa, while all manner of art journalism and commentary may be located in the intervening period from the 1930s to the 1950s, same level of systematic criticality would only find replication later in the writings of Akinola Lasekan, another artist and teacher. Of course one cannot fail to acknowledge Leopold Sedar Senghor's discourses on African art. Yet Senghor's discourses remained in the area of theory, revealing a rather narrow knowledge of contemporary African art for his period, and in the main both woolly and heavily predicated upon an essentialist rather than critical reading of classical African art. In the late 1950s and the early 1960s, Nigeria remained the hub of modern art criticism in the region, perhaps the finest examples of this tradition manifesting in the writings of two individuals rarely associated with the positive development of art criticism in the region: Ulli Beier and, and the painter and sculptor Okpu Eze. Beier's groundbreaking work in Nigeria magazine in the late 1950s introduced a new generation in Nigerian art and, considered within that cultural context and milieu, was as significant as Clement Greenberg's announcement of the advent of the abstract expressionists in American art. In our time Beier-bashing has become the favorite sport of a new wave of critics who are heavy on passion and thin on thoroughness, critics some of whom, if I may say, do not author their own texts. Yet Beier's reputation cannot be accurately assessed without an acknowledgement of his contributions to modern art criticism in West Africa. Okpu Eze, also, though better known for his sculptures than for his expressionist paintings or art criticism, stood out among a crop of art writers in Nigeria in the 1960s including the novelist Cyprian Ekwensi, for the depth and vastness of knowledge of the visual arts evident in his unfortunately few writings in Nigeria magazine.

In southern Africa, though art journalism thrived especially from the 1930s right through to the sixties, this was inevitably tainted in large part, as would indeed remain the case till only recently, by the ethical difficulties of a racially segregated discourse. Significant redemption would perhaps eventually appear in the sharp cultural citicism of the young Lewis Nkosi whose first book of essays announced the arrival of one of the continent's finest minds in the early nineteen-sixties. Despite lingering difficulties some of which I come to presently, South Africa, and to an understandably less extent Zimbabwe, today stand at the very forefront of art criticism in Africa. Ultimately I must defer to our panelists today who are very well placed by their location, expertise and involvement, to further enlighten us on the details of modern critical practice in these regions. Yet I believe it relevant to make mention of what I consider one other major landmark in the making of modern art criticism in Africa; namely the institution of debate over the essence and purpose of criticism, and the advent of a social art criticism through the promotion of an aesthetics of relevance in Nigeria in the late nineteen-seventies. For this momentous shift which may only be compared perhaps to the recent emergence of debates over provincialism and internationalism as well as licence and censorship in South African art and criticism--should the later lead to positive results--one man is responsible, and I crave your indulgence to acknowledge, once again, Ola Oloidi's central position in the articulation and shaping of the history and criticism of modern art in Nigeria, and in Africa. Though some of the questions Oloidi raised upon his return from Howard in the mid seventies had been broached a few years earlier by the Ghanaian Ato Delaquis in Transition and subsequently in Ch'Indaba, Oloidi brought a new rigor and intellectual depth to those and other questions, but most especially to the investigation of the nature and purpose of art, and the adoption of functionalism as a critical paradigm. The legacies of this intervention may remain in the nature of the finer examples of art writing in Nigeria today, and perhaps more evidently in the eventual recognition of criticism as a vocation in that country, in public acceptance of the figure of the critic, and in more recent times, in the eventual decision of Nigerian art writers and critics to come together under a formal forum for the discussion of questions of aesthetics and relevance in emergent cultural production, perhaps the first such formal organisation in Africa. It is questionable as to whether the rigor and meticulousness that characterised the criticism Oloidi sought to engender is evident in the level and quality of art criticism in Nigeria today. Yet it is safe to say that he laid the groundwork for a meaningful and rigorous culture of criticism, and any perenial or emergent failures in the pursuit and perpetuation of this example must find their explanation in that larger arena of a society's struggle against the obliteration of excellence.

A few words on the state of art criticism in Africa

It is useful at this point, perhaps, to make a few comments on the state of art criticism in Africa. Some years ago a friend of mine, the literary critic Afam Akeh in a particularly acerbic yet understandable attack on the rise of sloth in Nigeria wrote a piece with the sarcastic heading: Hi, My name is mediocrity! Sadly, while mediocrity may seem a rather harsh qualifier for much art writing in Africa today, a country by country survey would reveal a state of practise not at all far above that category. With the possible exception of some of the countries already mentioned; Nigeria, South Africa, Zimbabwe, possibly Egypt, the rest of the continent is beholden to traditions of art journalism that leave much to desired. Not so long ago, another friend, the artist Wosene Kosrof returned to Ethiopia where he much was celebrated. While coming back to America he brought with him, in addition to much sadness, a handful of articles on his work in the Ethiopian press, all of which left him apologetic. We ought, of course, to acknowledge that the distinction that Oloidi also made some decades ago between serious art criticism and the rather leisurely vocation of art journalism, ought to be borne in mind, making it unsafe that we use the later to assess the state of the former. It equally should be borne in mind that art journalism even in the West, is in general a preoccupation indulged in largely by folks who often have no clue how to write about art, and the vocation of serious criticism, therefore, remains one in which only a few individuals may be found, whether in Nigeria or Zimbabwe, or indeed in Britain or America. Nevertheless, the almost complete absence of any serious criticism in large parts of the continent from Gambia to Kenya, is quite disturbing, and while I have ventured vaguely to point in a certain direction for explanations, this state of affairs must engage our speakers today if we must articulate specific and necessary interventions to address the lack.

For now I will dwell briefly on those localities where serious criticism is in evidence, albeit sometimes on a scale that is less than ideal. Between independence in 1960 and the advent of new dictatorships in the early nineteen-eighties cultural and critical production in Nigeria both witnessed inflorescence and were in large part guided by an open atmosphere of engagement and certain understanding of the culture of excellence. In the years hence, however, the moral fabric of the country has collapsed, and the old values that governed not just cultural production but the conduct of every day life, also, have been superceded by an overwhelming new era of ineptitude, corruption, general moral and social decadence, and vulnerability to the demands of exigency. In all works of life and all pursuits, therefore, be they intellectual, political, or even religious, a new culture has emerged at the heart of which is the sacrifice of the pursuit of rigor. This ultimately manifests itself in a general fall in standards in both art and its criticism. Also, because of the systematic institutionalisation of authoritarianism in that country, a parallel culture of intolerance and militarism has arisen. Discourse and debate have given way to the use of force in all but few areas of daily life, from intellectual and cultural pursuit to the conduct of domestic affairs. A new generation has grown up without knowlege of values other than those of incompetence, dogmatism and the conviction that anything and anyone has a price. In such circumstances serious criticism without compromise becomes a dangerous vocation, and so not for any direct threat or indeed acknowlegement from the state, but because those fundamental conditions for the nurture and growth of critical culture have suffered severely. A society without a real sense of the possibility of alternatives produces a culture without room for alternative vision. It is this that now threatens to destroy completely, the seeds of critical endeavour that were sown in that country.

Like Nigeria, independence unleashed a new wave of cultural optimism in Zimbabwe which was quickly followed by serious cultural activism manifest in the vigorous pursuit of progress in education, literature, the arts, and criticism. For some it is questionable whether this spirit lasted at all. Even so, the most concrete difficulty of art criticism in Zimbabwe, perhaps, is the absence of sufficient constituents of a critical apparatus: namely media, institutions, promotion and patronage. In the past decade a number of publications have come and gone, and some have managed to hold on, yet it is evident that for a country still in the early stages of nationhood and sociopolitical consolidation, the necessary level of state support for culture and the attendant promotion of a critical establishment is lacking. And only with these, only with a sustained phase of support and encouragement, and dedicated involvement in education and the recognition of the worth of criticism, can such establishment take root.

The place of art criticism in the new South Africa is of great interest, and I apologise if I am unable for lack of time to speak on this at any appreciable length. It is notable, however, that in the years since the establishment of liberal democracy in that country, a new era of cultural and critical participation across racial lines has ensued. Nevertheless, the apparati of criticism remain, in the main, in the hands of a particular group and class in that society, and the dangers of this situation have manifested themselves recently in the employment of those apparati to berate or silence black interrogation of white artistic practice which involves the utilisation of the black body. A specific example of this is the manner in which protests by black women against white licence and violence to the black body in visual imagery have been treated with contempt bordering on dismissal and censorship by art critics, and in turn by the insensitive employment of the power of the critical apparati in promoting without question, artists whose practice venture into this arena of great historical and political importance. The questions thus raised, I hope, are ones we would have time to address today, namely the value and vagaries of power in the determination of critical practice, and the perenial issue of sensitivity and critical responsibility without infringement of the rights of the individual within a democracy, including artists, to express themselves.

In theory, South Africa has the greatest potentials today of nurturing an effervescent and vigorous critical establishment, one that serves the return of confidence to its artists, and the necessary widening of public expectation and understanding of art. The institution of liberal democracy, if followed by the establishment and consolidation of a true republican environment, combined with the country's material strength and its aspirations to a central place in the world in the next century, all offer enormous opportunities for the promotion of serious art criticism. It is my hope that our colleagues from that country would use this opportunity to enlighten us even more on the situation, and that we are able to contribute through our discussions today to the articulation of a vision that brings those potentials to fruition.

On Prospects and Challenges

In conclusion I should like to caution, as we discuss today, that a viable, thriving critical tradition is not produced by abstract and esoteric ideas and registers drawn from redundant pseudo-leftist liberation rhetoric, but through production, participation, dedication, and the establishment and promotion of concrete apparati of critical practice. It would not be enough that we extrapolate on the merits and demerits of art criticism in Africa, or bemoan with or without conviction the intervention of so-called outsiders, or indeed indulge in mouthfuls of sophistry and philosophical reverie, if we do not throw our weights behind admirable efforts at providing the tools and avenues, as well as the right social and political atmosphere, for the pursuit of African art criticism. Its good to talk, ladies and gentlemen, yet talk is cheap, just like faith without work is vain and of no worth. Critical responsibility, cultural vigilance, the acquisition of competent language, all of these must be grounded in the will to contribute to the erection of structures and opportunities for criticism. With those secure and in place, there is no doubt whatsoever, that modern African art criticism will find its place, slowly but steadily, especially as we venture into a new century.

Thank you.