Aworan: Representing the self and its Metaphysical other in Yoruba Art

Art Bulletin, The, Sept, 2001 by Babatunde Lawal

Among the Yoruba of Nigeria and the Republic of Benin, the word aworan commonly refers to
any two- or three-dimensional representation, ranging from the naturalistic to the stylized (Figs. 1,
2). A contraction of (that which), wo (to look at), and ranti (to recall, that is, the subject), aworan
is mnemonic in nature, identifying a work of art as a construct specially crafted to appeal to the
eyes, relate a representation to its subject, and, at the same time, convey messages that may have
aesthetic, social, political, or spiritual import. (1) It should be emphasized, however, that Yoruba
is a tonal language, so that the same word may have different meanings depending on how it is
pronounced. (2) For example, because of a change in the vowel tones, the word aworan refers not
to a representation--which is aworan--but to its beholder, being a contraction of a (the one), wo
(looking at), and iran (spectacle). (3) The meaning of the root verb wo (to look) remains intact in
the two words, linking the beholder to t he beheld.
In this article, I want to focus not only on the interconnect-edness of art and language in Yoruba
culture but also on how their cosmogony and concept of procreation draw on the metaphors of
artistic creativity. In the process, I will underline the nature, contexts, functions, peculiarities, and
poetics of visual representations, their impact on cultural behavior, and the extent to which
portraiture has been used to reinforce the body politic at both the physical and metaphysical
levels. As Richard Brilliant has rightly observed, "The synthetic study of portraiture requires some
sensitivity to the social implications of its representational modes, to the documentary value of art
as aspects of social history, and to the subtle interaction between social and artistic conventions."
(4) In addition, I will attempt to shed some light on the nexus between aworan (picture or
representation) and iworan (the act of looking).
Much of my data derives from field observations and interviews in Yorubaland, where I have
conducted art historical research since the 1960s. I have also made use of Yoruba oral tradition, a
good part of which has been studied by scholars in different disciplines and found to contain
substantial factual information that can be used for historical reconstruction. (5) The fact that I
conducted the field interviews in the Yoruba language (of which I am a native speaker) sometimes
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enabled me to play the role of a participant-observer and then follow up with questions pertaining
to the semiotics of images and spectatorship. Hence, my theoretical approach combines linguistic,
visual, iconographic, contextual, and anthropological analyses.
Omo Oduduwa: The Quest for Unity in Diversity
Numbering over 25 million people, the Yoruba are divided into several kingdoms, each headed by
a king (oba). Almost all the kings and their subjects regard themselves as Omo Oduduwa, the
descendants of Oduduwa, a mythical progenitor popularly identified as the first "divine" king of
Ife, the ancient city widely regarded as the cradle of Yoruba civilization. (6) Although Yoruba
culture appears to be homogeneous, there are significant regional variations, suggesting that what
we have today is a synthesis of previously diverse, even if related, elements. This phenomenon is
apparent in the Yoruba language, which has various dialects differentiating one kingdom from
another, (7) and in the fact that Oduduwa has a double identity. In some parts of Yorubaland, he is
regarded as a powerful warrior and the leader of an immigrant group that subjugated the
aboriginal population of Ife and established a new ruling dynasty that eventually brought the
whole of present-day Yorubaland under its hegemony. In other parts, the same Oduduwa (also
pronounced Oodua) is worshiped as an earth goddess who sustains humanity in the same way that
a mother nurtures her children. The fact that Oduduwa, the male warrior, is sometimes addressed
as a "mother" has led some scholars of Yoruba history and religion to suggest that the male aspect
is a later development, reflecting an attempt by a new dynasty to legitimize its hegemony by
grafting a male aspect onto a preexisting earth goddess. This dynastic change, often dated
between the seventh and eleventh centuries C.E., (8) reverberates in one cosmogonic myth
concerning a power tussle between two deities in the Yoruba pantheon. According to the myth,
the universe at first consisted of only the heavens and was governed by Olodumare, the Supreme
Being and the generator of ase (pronounced ashe), the vital principle empowering existence.
Assisting Olodumare to administer the universe was a pantheon of deities and nature spirits called
orisa, each of whom personified different attributes of the Sup reme Being, such as water, land,
creativity, industry, wisdom, beauty, fertility, vision, dynamism, healing, and so on. After some
time, 016-dumare decided to create land below the sky and assigned the job to the creativity deity
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Obatala. Unfortunately, Obatala got drunk after receiving the sacred instruments of his
commission and fell asleep by the roadside. Thereupon, a rival deity, Oduduwa, stole the sacred
instruments, descended from the sky, and created what we now call the earth. When Obatala woke
up and discovered what had happened, he challenged Oduduwa and a fierce fight ensued. The
Supreme Being later intervened, compensating Obatala with another assignment--to mold the
images of the first human beings, who later became inhabitants of the earth. (9) There are
indications that the warring factions later intermarried and united to form a central government in
Ife under Oduduwa, agreeing to rotate the kingship among themselves. (10) These events are
commemorated annually during the Edi, Itapa, Olojo, a nd Obatala festivals in Ife and its environs
when the devotees of Obatala--representing the aborigines--and those of Oduduwa--representing
the immigrants--engage in ritualized mock battles that usually end in favor of the Oduduwa
faction, after which there is a reconciliation. (11) Suffice it to say that the Omo Oduduwa ethos,
which seems to have influenced the Yoruba concept of portraiture, was apparently invented as a
political strategy aimed at forging a kind of "Unity in Diversity" relating the immigrant and
aboriginal groups--royals and commoners alike. (12).
Ere Eniyan: The Archetypal Human Image, and Onayiya: Creating a Work of Art
Of special interest to us here is the myth that the creativity deity Obatala molded the archetypal
human image (ere eniyan) from divine clay. According to the myth, Ogun, the deity (orisa)
associated with iron tools and weapons, put the finishing touches to the form, clarifying and
delineating the principal features, especially the face. The image (ere) turned into a living human
(eniyan) after receiving from the Supreme Being the divine breath or soul (emi)--a form of ase
(the enabling power). Since then, every image thus produced has been placed inside the womb of
a pregnant woman and left to develop from an embryonic form into a normal baby. Hence the
prayer for an expectant mother: "Ki Orisa ya ona ire ko ni" (May the Orisa [Obatala] fashion for
us a good work of art). (13) The implication is that procreation, in spite of its biological aspect,
has an artistic dimension as well: the human body is the handiwork of Obatala, a piece of
sculpture (ere) animated by a soul (emi). In other words, the body (ara) makes the spirit manifest,
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enabling an individual to have iwa (physical existence) in the visible world. Iwa denotes not only
the fact of being but also the distinctive quality or character of a person. (14)
The Yoruba identify a work of art as ona, that is, an embodiment of creative skills, implicating the
archetypal action of Obatala the creativity deity and patron of the Yoruba artist. The process of
creating a work of art is called onayiya (literally, ona, art, and yiya, creation or making), a term
implicated in the aforementioned prayer for an expectant mother. Yiya derives from the root verb
ya, meaning to create, fashion, or make. The fact that the female body mediates Obatala's creation
(15) has led some to translate iya, the Yoruba word for a mother, as "someone from whom
another life is fashioned" or the body "from which we are created." (16) The term jora denotes a
striking resemblance between a child and any of its parents or among members of the same family.
Thus, a naturalistic representation is called ayajora, a contraction of a (act of), ya (to create), jo
(to resemble), and ara (physical body of the subject). That is to say, the artist's main goal is to
capture individual likeness, as in a portr ait of one of the ancient kings (ooni) of Ife (Fig. 1). The
reason for the prominence of the head in Yoruba art will be discussed shortly. A conceptual
representation, on the other hand, is called aroya (a contraction of a, act of, ro, to think or
imagine, and ya, to create) because it is done from memory. (17) For example, the seated female
of Figure 2 is far from being a portrait of a known person. Rather, the image is a construct--a
figure for an altar signifying the Earth Goddess (Ile) in her symbolic role as the "Mother and
Caretaker of the World" (Iya Aye), hence, her appellation Onile (Owner of the House). The two
small figures in her hands represent the male and female aspects of nature, whose interaction
ensures the perpetuation of life on earth. (18) The emphasis here is not so much on empirical
observation as on the use of the mind's eye to visualize and give material form to an idea. The
literary equivalent of aroya (conceptual imagery) is arofo (oral poetry)--a shortened form of a (act
of), ro (t o think or imagine), and fo (to chant or utter).
Although it has individual and regional variations (just as the Yoruba language has subdialects),
the Yoruba sculptural style (evident especially in wood but also in stone and ivory sculpture) is
distinguished by stylized figures--standing, kneeling, or riding on horseback--with large heads,
elaborate hairdos, and protruding facial features (Figs. 4, 18, 20). (19) Through the apprenticeship
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system, young artists are trained to create images in the substyle characteristic of a particular
region as well as to master and interpret the iconographic conventions (asa) handed down from
the past. (20) The fact that much of Yoruba art functions in a religious context has stabilized these
conventions, imposing some limitation on the extent of change within the canon, while, at the
same time, allowing creativity, innovation, and the incorporation of new elements in time and
place. An apprentice graduates after demonstrating enough imo (mastery of time-honored
conventions), imoose (technical proficiency), and oju ona (li terally, artistic eye) to practice as a
professional. Oju ona can be defined as "design consciousness," (21) or the visual cognition that
enables an artist to select and process images from daily experience into schemata or templates
(determined by the Yoruba style), which are then stored in pictorial memory, to be retrieved and
modified when needed to express an idea. As a result, a well-trained artist does not need a life
model or a preparatory sketch to represent a particular subject. A carver, for example, begins by
staring intently at the wood while conjuring up the relevant schema from his pictorial memory.
Thus, the term aworan signifies much more than an image that recalls the subject. It also alludes
to the creative process, especially an artist's preliminary contemplation (a-wo) of the raw material
and the pictorial memory (iranti) necessary for visualizing and objectifying the subject. Thereafter,
the carver projects the schema onto the wood, reaches for his tools, and follows an established
proced ure: (a) sisa (blocking out), using a big adze to reveal mass and volume and to outline the
image(s), emphasizing the head(s); (b) onalile (tracking forms), using a smaller adze to clarify the
image(s); (c) aletunle (consolidation), using chisels and knives to further define the component
parts; (d) didan (smoothening), using knives and abrasive leaves to remove tool marks and rough
edges; and (e) finfin (incising), using a knife to accentuate facial features and body parts, cut
patterns, and create surface designs. (22) Modeling in clay

(later cast into brass or bronze) follows a similar procedure, though differences in material, tools,
and technique invariably produce different results. Carvings tend to look more linear and angular,
due to the subtractive technique, while modeled forms have a smoother finish because of the
additive technique. According to the artists interviewed in different parts of Yorubaland, the
creative process involves three deities, Obatala Ogun, and Esu. Obatala (creativity deity) p
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rovides the imaginative component, Ogun (iron deity), the tools for transforming the material, and
Esu (divine messenger), the vision and ase (enabling power) that facilitate execution. (23)
Oriki: Glorifying the Head in Word and Image
Literally meaning "head praise," the term oriki refers to a eulogy or poem (arofo) glorifying the
worthiness of an individual. It is chanted at critical moments to goad the head to action and
thereby spur a person to greater achievement. (24) For the head (ori) is perceived as the seat of
the ase (enabling power) that determines one's identity and existence, influencing behavior and
personal destiny:
If I have money
It is my Ori [head] I will praise
My Ori, it is you
If I have children on earth
It is my Ori to whom I will give praise
My Ori it is you
All the good things I have on earth

It is Ori I will praise

My Ori, It is you. (25)
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In effect, the head (ori) is the lord of the body and therefore must be acknowledged and given
pride of place. A similar message is apparent in the emphasis on the head in Yoruba art. It is
almost always the biggest and the most elaborately finished part of a typical figure sculpture, often
adorned with a crownlike coiffure or headgear (Figs. 1, 2, 4, 18, 20). (26) With this
complementarity of word and image in mind, the Yoruba linguistic scholar Olabiyi Yai has
suggested, "When approaching Yoruba art, an intellectual orientation that would be consonant
with Yoruba traditions of scholarship would be to consider each individual Yoruba art work and
the entire corpus as oriki." (27) This is because while most oriki (eulogies) undergo changes and
embellishment in the course of their oral transmission from one generation to another, they often
retain a core of historical or iconographic elements that defines the essence and character of the
subject. Moreover, Yoruba artists in the past were expected, as part of th eir training, to
familiarize themselves with the oriki of important personalities and the major orisa (deities) in
their community and with indigenous theology, which they took into consideration when creating
shrines and related images. Thus, apart from their aesthetic qualities, shrine images speak volumes
about Yoruba society, its social practices and worldview.
One of the fundamentals of this worldview is that the visible head (ori ode) is no more than an
enclosure for the inner, spiritual head, called ori inu, which localizes the ase that empowers the
physical self. (28) Although the ase emanates from the Supreme Being, it is mediated by Esu
(pronounced Eshu), the divine messenger and principle of dynamism in the Yoruba cosmos.

(29) One myth claims that before an individual is born into the physical world, its soul must select
an inner head (ori inu) from a collection of ready-made clay heads molded by Ajala, the heavenly
potter. Because of their association with personal destiny, these clay heads are abstracted and
made to look similar, though each is intrinsically different. The one selected by an individual
becomes an integral part of the metaphysical self, constituting the inner core of the physical head
and determining a person's lot on earth. (30) In the distant past, most adult Yoruba dedicated an
altar called ibori to the inner head in the form of a cone-sh aped object covered with leather and
adorned with cowrie shells (Fig. 3). Once used as currency, these shells allude to the wealth that a
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"good head" can bring to a person. Apart from concealing that person's fate (ipin), the ibori links
the self with Esu, who originates the motions, emotions, and actions associated with iwa, earthly
existence. As the divine messenger and the omnipresent agency of the Supreme Being in all living
things, Esu is asoju (the observer), (31) and thus the catalyst for sight. (32) Esu's connection with
the head, especially the face (oju), is illustrated by the popular notion that by blinking his eyes, he
can make a person look beautiful or ugly. (33) Even fellow orisa in the Yoruba pantheon depend
on Esu for their vision; according to a myth, he once confused Oduduwa's sight, with the result
that the latter mistook the divination deity (Ifa) for a leopard and ran away in fright. (34) In other
words, Esu activates the face, the site of perception and communication, reflecting the fee lings of
pain and pleasure, joy and sorrow, hope and despair, and other passions associated with temporal
existence and behavior. The Yoruba word for a facade is oju-ile (literally, the face of the house)
because the facade is to a house what the face is to the body, an index of identity. The doors of a
house open and close just like the eyes. That is why Esu images or staffs are often placed, for
security purposes, near the doorway, at the crossroads, and at the town gates. Some have two
faces looking in opposite directions (Figs. 4, 5), as though monitoring developments from within
and without, from left and right, from above and below, and from nearby and the great beyond.
(35) The cowrie shells on this staff denote the blessings that Esu may bestow on those he favors,
despite his prankishness. The flute or whistle motif identifies him both as the herald, who
coordinates the activities of all the deities, and as a gatekeeper, guide, and detective. He thus
exemplifies the principle of intelligence, vigilanc e, and surveillance, among others, in Yoruba
culture. No wonder that the Esu image illustrated in Figure 6, one of three once installed in a
public square in the middle of the village of Igbajo (about thirty-five miles from Ife) was
reportedly vandalized by Ijesa warriors during their invasion of Igbajo in the 1880s; (36) note the
damage to the left arm. Incidentally, Esu is anthropomorphized here, combining the look of a child
with that of an adult in allusion to the paradoxical, betwixt-and-between nature of the deity and
his association with the threshold--a recurring theme in much of his oriki (eulogies):
The short and tall one
Whose head is barely visible when he walks through a peanut farm
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Thanks to the fact that he is very tall

But Esu must climb the hearthstone in order to put salt in the soup pot ...
Labolarinde, (37) if you reach the frontier and do not encounter him at the citygate working in the
field
You will find him in the vicinity and he is always accessible to everyone, including the infirm. (38)
Ayajora: Portraying the Physical Self
The emphasis on ara (physical body) in the word ayajora reveals the objective of the Yoruba artist
in a naturalistic portrait (Figs. 7-15): to capture a recognizable likeness of the subject with an
emphasis on oju amuwaye (literally, earthly face), the face one is born with and which identifies
one's iwa (telluric existence). This face is time-bound, changing with mood and age. (39)
However, the artist frequently ignores the transitory emotional aspects, idealizing only those
features that facilitate identity, the emphasis being on jijora, or what Robert Farris Thompson calls
a "midpoint mimesis" between absolute abstraction and absolute likeness. (40) In the past, many
Yoruba treated the naturalistic representation of a living person with ambivalence for two main
reasons. One stems from a popular notion that every living person has a spirit partner ( a "lookalike") in heaven called enikeji (heavenly double) who offers spiritual protection to its earthly
counterpart. (41) The creation of a lifelikeness in ar t (a human-made "look-alike") is perceived as
a distraction that may jeopardize this relationship, causing the heavenly double to withdraw its
spiritual protection. The second reason has to do with the belief that through sympathetic magic, a
naturalistic portrait could be transformed into a surrogate for the human body and then
manipulated for positive or negative ends. For instance, in preventive medicine called idira or
isora (fortifying the body), a portrait, infused with charms, is kept in a secure place or a shrine to
immunize the referent from witchcraft and infectious diseases. (42) In sorcery called asasi (evil
spell) or edi (tethering), an image may be gagged or strangled or have sharp objects driven into
the eyes, ears, or throat to disable, maim, or kill the person it represents. In another type of
8

sorcery called apeje (instruct and obey), the subject is hypnotized, via a sculpted portrait, to act or
behave irrationally, such as dancing without music or laughing at random for no justifiable reason .
In some cases, a physical likeness is not necessary; giving the image the subject's name or
attaching an article from his or her body (such as clothing, a lock of hair, or a nail paring) will
suffice. (43)
Yoruba diviners trace most acts of sorcery to awon aye, the evil-minded ones, such as witches,
sadists, rivals, jealous neighbors, enemies, or close relations who either have a few old scores to
settle or simply envy the success of another individual. Of major concern is Esu, the unpredictable
trickster, divine messenger, and controller of fate who could be benevolent at one moment and
malevolent the next, capriciously turning joy into sorrow, and vice versa. He is the agent
provocateur who plays a lot of pranks with a view to reforming humanity. Like the trickster motif
in other cultures, Esu embodies what Lewis Hyde calls the "paradoxical category of sacred
amorality" by which societies articulate and regulate their social life and behavior. (44) That is
why the Yoruba code of ethics enjoins everyone to be courteous, sociable, respectful, humble,
diplomatic, and to "bear both wealth and poverty (45) Also, one must exercise self-control in the
face of provocation or temptation; one must learn a lesson from t he Olofefunra myth. According
to the myth, Olofefunra, a deity in ancient Ife, had a peculiar way of welcoming visitors to its
grove by laughing loudly and making humorous remarks as though he was reuniting with old and
long-missed friends. But should any visitor reciprocate, his or her facial features "would remain
permanently fixed in the contortion of mirthless laughter!" (46) By the same token, it would be
risky to allow oneself to be portrayed in a naturalistic and overtly expressive manner; there is the
fear that enemies might read arrogance into an innocent smile, steal the portrait, and instigate a
sorcerer to harm the subject through it. (47) This explains why naturalistic portraits are few and
far between in Yoruba art and there is little interest in physiognomy, that is, the use of the face to
reveal the "soul" or character of the subject. (48)

Ako and Ipade: Naturalistic Second-Burial Effigies for the Dead

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However, during second-burial ceremonies for the dead, naturalistic portraits appear with some
frequency (Figs. 7-12). (49) This can be attributed to two major factors. The first derives from the
belief that the soul of a deceased person now operates at a superhuman plane of existence and so
is immune to sorcery. (50) The second is that the mnemonic power of a life-size naturalistic effigy
(ako) vivifies the presence of the dead during the second-burial ceremony, enabling mourners to
treat the image as if it were alive. The costly ceremony usually takes place some days or weeks
after the burial of the corpse and is normally performed only for the rich and famous as well as for
those who had lived to a ripe old age and were survived by children. (51) One of the reasons for
the ceremony is that it would enable the deceased to carry over to Ehin-Iwa (the Afterlife) the
high status achieved on earth. Not until the performance of this ceremony will the soul of the
deceased leave the community. Failure of the child ren to do so in time or after a reasonable
period may cause the soul to haunt them in the form of a ghost. In addition, as an artist must have
been aquainted with the deceased to produce his or her visual likeness, the longer the interval
between the first burial (of the real corpse) and the second (of the effigy) the weaker the artist's
pictorial memory of the deceased. To circumvent this problem, an artist is allowed to use as a
reference point the face of a child who closely resembles the deceased. (52) This partly explains
why some second-burial effigies look much younger than the deceased at the time of death.
Thanks to modern photography, many families now keep photo albums from which a good picture
of the deceased (usually in his or her middle age) may be selected and given to an artist to
translate into a second-burial effigy. Since the image is usually costumed, the carver pays most
attention to the head, forearms, and legs, leaving the other parts of the body relatively unfinished
(Fig. 7). During a typical ako ceremony, the effigy, dressed in the best clothes of the deceased
(Fig. 8), would be displayed in his or her residence for a few days to allow friends, relations, and
well-wishers to pay their last respects. Specially designated family members chant the oriki
(eulogy) of the deceased at regular intervals. For example:
Oronaye (O!)
May you be fortunate
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May your fortune last

You, who have the great sword....
The sharp sword that draws blood
The one of great fame
My father is the great one being celebrated
A popular man of Owo
Great men of Owo, my father is the great one being celebrated. (53)
After the indoor ceremonies, the image would be carried in a public procession around the town
accompanied by survivors, all singing and wishing the deceased a happy retirement in Ehin-Iwa,
the Afterlife:
Do not eat millipedes
Do not eat earthworms
It's what they eat in the Afterlife
That you should eat
May you fare well
Until we cross paths
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Until you appear in our dreams

Shall we meet again. (54)
Through the effigy, messages are sent to long-dead ancestors. At the same time, the newly dead is
beseeched not to forget the living and to use his or her spiritual powers to protect them. (55)
After the public procession, the effigy is buried, destroyed, or abandoned in the forest. (56)
Figure 9 is a portrait of the late Queen Ameri Olasubude of Owo, carved by Lamuren for
Olasubude's second-burial ceremony in 1944. The portrait, however, was rejected by the family of
the deceased on the grounds that the artist did not achieve enough idealization. For instance, the
toes and fingers of the figure are touching one another (Fig. 10) instead of being carved separate,
as required by tradition. (57)
Unlike the ako, which is almost always a full figure that can be displayed in a seated position by
virtue of its articulated body and limbs, the ipade (a hunter's second-burial memorial) is usually
unarticulated. Only the head is finished, with the rest of the body given a rudimentary treatment,
as in the portrait of Chief Aniwe, one of the most powerful hunters in Ife before his death in 1962
(Fig. 11). It was carved by Taye Adegun. A short stick nailed to the chest of the figure serves as
the shoulders for fitting one of the garments of the deceased (Fig. 12). (58) In some cases, two
sticks shaped like a cross and draped with a hat and garment of the deceased may serve as a
substitute for a naturalistic effigy. (59) A portrait statue carved by Taiwo Fadipe of the late Chief
Akinyemi Osogun of Ife, a high-ranking priest of Ogun (iron and war deity) who died in 1964,
was later acquired by the Ife Museum of Antiquities. In 1976, I took a print of the statue to the
compound of the deceased, where I compared it with a photograph of him. The statue bore only a
faint resemblance to the deceased, but the three marks (abaja) on the cheeks are exactly the same
as those on the photograph, conceivably creating enough likeness for those who knew Chief
Akinyemi Osogun when he was alive. (60)

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That the memorial function of the "lifelike" image has a long history in Yoruba culture seems to be
attested by the discovery at Ife of several naturalistic, life-size brass heads dated between the
twelfth and fifteenth centuries C.E. (Figs. 13, 14). (61) Some of them wear crowns, while others
have holes around the hairline, apparently for securing real headgears or crowns.

Amost all the heads have holes at the neck (Fig. 13), indicating that they might have been nailed
to wooden torsos and attired in the same manner as the ako. Consequently, Justine Cordwell and
Frank Willett have suggested that most of the heads were probably used in funeral or secondburial ceremonies for kings and other distinguished persons. (62) This speculation has been
questioned on the grounds that the creation of a funeral effigy for a king (oba) is incompatible
with the public perception of him as a divine being who does not die but simply disappears "into
the earth." (63) In view of a ceremony in present-day Okuku during which the king of the town
makes sacrificial offerings to his "inner head" (ori inu) in a special room inside the palace where
many beaded crowns are displayed, though not on portrait heads, Henry Drewal is of the opinion
that the life-size Ife brass heads might have been "created to display actual regalia in a shrine
context," perhaps during an annual rite of purification and renewal for the king and his people.
(64) While the possibility cannot be ruled out altogether, it does not necessarily follow that all the
heads performed only this function in the past. Neither does the public perception of the king as
divine automatically preclude him from being honored with a second-burial ceremony. Despite the
king's liminal status and the secrecy surrounding his death and burial, it is public knowledge that
he is a flesh-and-blood human being who reigns and then passes away. The popular saying "Oba
mewa; igba mewa" (Ten kings; ten epochs) makes it clear that the notion that the king does not
die is only a metaphor for the antiquity and continuity of divine kingship among the Yoruba. As to
be expected, a good king would be fondly remembered; a bad one could be impeached by a
council of elders (called Ogboni in some areas) and if found guilty of a serious offence, forced to
commit suicide or executed. In fact, some unpopular Ife kings of the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries met with violent deaths at the hands of their subjects. (65) Moreover, a king's mortality
is explicit in the word abobaku, referring to "those who die with the king" in order to serve him in
the Afterlife. (66) The question then arises: If chiefs and other important persons could be
13

honored with a befitting farewell or second-burial ceremony--to enable them to carry over to the
Afterlife the high status achieved on earth--why not the king himself, the most distinguished
individual in a given community? That the ceremony was performed for kings in ancient Ife may
be inferred from a legend that palace officials once colluded with court artists to delay the a
ppointment of a new king. Instead of disclosing the death of the incumbent king to the relevant
authorities, these officials installed his effigy in a dark corner of the state room and continued to
conduct business as usual, issuing orders on behalf of the dead king. The senior chiefs and
members of the public unsuspectingly paid homage to the effigy until the deception was
uncovered. (67) This legend has two implications. First, it suggests that the plotters had
misappropriated an effigy that could have been used eventually for the second-burial ceremony of
the same king and which, predictably, would have received a similar homage and befitting farewell
messages. Second, it corroborates the thesis that the holes around the hairline of the life-size Ife
heads (Fig. 13) might have been used for securing a beaded crown with veil (some still have bead
fragments) that would have covered the face--as they normally do when worn by the king (Fig.
22). (68) The holes around the mouth probably sported a combination of beard and mustache that
would have further obscured the face, thus enabling the alleged conspiracy to succeed for a while.
Finally, that second-burial ceremonies for kings were common in the past is evident in the
Adamuorisa (Eyo) obsequy of the Awori Yoruba of Lagos. (69) Until recently, a new king would
not be allowed to perform certain rites until he had "completed the final funeral ceremonies of his
predecessor...which included the staging of the Adamuorisa..." (70) Two of the most memorable
Adamuorisa were performed for Oba (king) Akitoye on February 20, 1854, and for Oba Dosumu
on April 30, l885.

(71) However, unlike the ako figure, which may be carried in a public procession, the Adamuorisa
(Eyo) second-burial effigy for a deceased king is displayed inside the palace only. The effigy is
usually a banana tree trunk dressed up in expensive clothes and made to look like a real human
figure wearing a hat or crown, though the face is covered with cloth. The display is accompanied
by drumming and eulogizing, as is done for an ako figure. On the last day of the ceremony,
14

hundreds of Eyo masquerades in white robes participate in a public parade to bid the deceased the
last farewell. (72) Since a king's corpse is sometimes dismembered for ritual purposes, a secondburial effigy is, as it were, a "re-membering" of that body, providing a unique opportunity for a
farewell ceremony that would enable the deceased to carry over to the Afterlife the high status
achieved on earth.
There is ample evidence that the Ife heads might also have functioned in interregnum, succession,
and/or coronation ceremonies, among others. According to a Benin oral tradition, before the
fourteenth century, the head of a deceased Benin king (oba) was taken to Ife for burial and, in
return, a brass head would be sent to Benin along with other royal emblems to confirm the
successor on the throne.

This is because Oranmiyan, one of Oduduwa's youngest sons, founded the Eweka ruling dynasty
in Benin between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and ruled there for a while before
returning to Ife, where he eventually died. (73) The Benin practice may very well be a variation on
an ancient Yoruba ritual of removing the head of a deceased king and using it for the transfer of
royal power to his successor. (74) The latter then kept the head "among his principal objects of
worship." (75) Could the need to preserve the heads and memories of famous kings for a longer
period have led to the creation of their likeness in brass? If so, could this phenomenon be
responsible for the scarcity of the life-size royal heads? As yet, only about sixteen or so have been
recovered out of almost fifty rulers on the Ife king list. (76) Even then, only a handful of the heads
can now be positively identified with particular individuals. The mask in Figure 14, for instance, is
said to represent Ooni (king) Obalufon, the son of Osangangan Obamakin, an Ife indigene who
succeeded Oduduwa probably because he sided with the latter in his quest for political supremacy.
(77) Obalufon (also known as Alayemoore) ascended the throne after his father's death but
reigned for only a short period before being deposed by Oranmiyan, who had earlier left Ife to
found ruling dynasties in Benin and Old Oyo. Obalufon was recalled from exile to reoccupy the
Ife throne after the death of Oranmiyan. The exact time of his reign is unknown, though some
historians are inclined to put it at the beginning of the second millennium C.E. He is said to have
15

changed the t itle of the Ife king from olofin (owner of the palace)--introduced by Oduduwa--to
ooni (owner of the land) to indicate the return of the Ife indigenes (that is, the pre-Oduduwa
people) to power. (78) Before Obalufon ascended the throne, Ife had been constantly raided by
the Igbo, a pro-Obatala group in exile that refused to acknowledge Oduduwa's sovereignty. This
group was defeated, pacified, and reintegrated into Ife society during Obalufon's reign, when the
city witnessed an unprecedented era of peace, cultural development, and economic prosperity.
(79) Obalufon is remembered today as a great patron of the arts and as the one who introduced
brass casting to the Yoruba. Thus, it may very well be that the tradition of making life-size brass
heads at Ife began during his reign. The stylistic similarity of this mask to the other life-size heads,
dated between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries, suggests that it was probably made within the
same period. (80) Despite the popular legend that Oduduwa originated the bead-embroidered
crown (which he then gave to his sons, who subsequently left Ife to become kings in other parts
of Yorubaland), Obalufon is regarded as the epitome of that crown, apparently because of his
long, peaceful reign and his exemplary leadership. This may explain why at the coronation of a
new king in Ife, the crown would first be placed on Obalufon's "head"--a stone image--before
being put on a new king's head. (81) The openings below the eyes of the Obalufon mask suggest
that it was worn on the face. It is therefore not impossible, as Suzanne Blier has proposed, that
the mask might be integrally linked to this ceremony and "the related rites of rulership transition"
in the past, reflecting Obalufon's legendary contributions to the early formation of the Ife state and
his posthumous deification and association with prosperity and good government. (82)
A terra-cotta portrait head assigned to the same period as the Obalufon mask (Fig. 15) is said to
commemorate the usurper Lajuwa, the chamberlain who temporarily seized the throne after the
death of Ooni Aworokolokin, Obalufon's successor. There is an allegation that Aworokolokin did
not belong to the Oduduwa faction and that he "probably died by some foul means at the hands of
his courtiers, after his wife had been abducted." (83) Lajuwa reportedly hid his corpse, wore the
royal regalia, and started impersonating the king. The disguise succeeded for some time
apparently because, as mentioned earlier, the fringe of the beaded crown normally obscures the
face of the person wearing it (Fig. 22). But the trick was soon uncovered and Lajuwa was
executed along with accomplices, although his name continues to appear in some Ife king lists.
16

(84) Lajuwa's long, wavy hairstyle might lend some credence to this story in that it seems to
betray his mixed ancestry, recalling the legend that Oduduwa and his group came to I fe from the
northeast, which some scholars have identified with the Nile valley or the Arabian Peninsula. (85)
Be that as it may, the palace conspiracy cited earlier is so similar to Lajuwa's that one is tempted
to take the two as different versions of the same event. Yet they could very well refer to separate
events. The chances are that Lajuwa had exploited an established tradition of using an effigy or a
human surrogate to represent or impersonate the king when he could not be physically present in
court or at a public ceremony. The cover provided by the beaded crown with fringe might have
encouraged this tradition, apart from the fact that, in the past, the king frequently used an
interpreter who already knew what to say. Even today, some kings are barely audible, leaving the
interpreter to speak on their behalf--which conceivably might have made it easier in the past for an
impersonator to pass for the king. For example, at Old Oyo, whose ruling dynasty was founded by
Oranmiyan (who later returned to Ife to depose Obalufon during his first term in office), a court
official called Osiefa specialized in impersonati ng the king legitimately wearing his crown and
receiving the same honors due the king when the latter could not be physically present at a
particular ceremony. (86) While there is no evidence as yet that a similar official impersonated the
king in ancient Ife, it is significant that one of the early Ife kings, Ooni Giesi, often asked his
daughter (Debooye) to represent him at certain ceremonies because he was too old to attend. (87)
The question then arises: Could some of the Ife life-size heads have been made at the beginning of
a new king's reign with surrogate, ritual, memorial, and other functions in mind? (88) The answer
to this question must await further investigation. Nonetheless, the prominence given to royal
regalia and bearing in many of the underlife-size portraits in the Ife corpus (Fig. 1) hints at a court
art patently concerned as much with the personal appearance of the living as with the collective
memory of the dead.
After studying them for more than four decades, Frank Willett, along with other scholars, has
observed that many of the Ife life-size heads share certain "family resemblances" both in form and
style. However, it is not clear at the moment whether all of them were made by only one artist,
artists from the same workshop, or artists from different workshops, removed in time and space.
17

(89) The similarities of the faces could be due to the fact that the artists probably did not work
directly from life models, and therefore had to depend partly on memory and partly on timehonored formulas for representing the human face. Note that a good majority of the heads have a
dignified look, with relaxed facial muscles; there is little or no attempt to express emotion. This
idealization recalls the premium placed by the Yoruba on composure, suggesting, at the same
time, that the artists might have been working within a stylistic idiom presumably aimed at relating
all the individuals portrayed as Omo Oduduwa, or members of the same "extended" family. (90)
Jean Borgatti has observed a similar tendency in other parts of Africa, namely, the downplaying of
"individual" in favor of "social" identity, when an artist simplifies the face to conform to
archetypes handed down from the past, though there is enough room for artistic inventions within
a given stylistic convention. (91)
Not all the naturalistic figures from Ife and Owo had functioned in second-burial contexts. This is
confirmed by the fact that some are not life-size, while others have their mouths gagged, recalling
the custom of muzzling the victims of human sacrifice to prevent them from cursing the
headsman. (92) We are also reminded of edi, the sorcery (mentioned above) for rendering a
person tongue-tied. One striking terra-cotta figure excavated from Obalara's land (Ife), dated
between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (Fig. 16), wears a skull pendant around the neck;
the face is contorted, with the mouth wide open, revealing the tongue. Other figures from the site
have swollen faces. (93) The finding of such representations amid ritual vessels and several human
skulls and bones has led to the hypothesis that the site "must have some direct relevance to human
death" and that "the terra-cottas also may have played some part in post-mortem ritual." (94) It is
significant that the site belongs to the Obalara family. The head of the family is a priest of Owinni,
a deified ancestor whose shrine once served as a sanctuary for smallpox sufferers. This fact, as
Peter Garlake points out, could very well link the terra-cottas to rites aimed at preventing the
recurrence of infectious diseases in the community. (95) Equally intriguing is a fifteenth-century
terra-cotta representation from Owo (about eighty miles southeast of Ife) of a basket filled with
severed heads slashed on the face (Fig. 17). According to Chief Obadio, the high priest of
Oduduwa in Ife, human sacrifice was offered to the deity in the past and that "terracotta human
heads adorn the ritual spots." (96) In that case, can we regard this basket of heads from Owo as a
18

variation of the practice at Ife? (97) Or are the heads substitutes for real ones in between major
sacrifices? Insufficient archaeological evidence makes it impossible at the moment to answer any
of these questions with confidence. What seems to be fairly certain is that in the past, naturalistic
por traits had precise, limited, and specialized functions in ritual and ceremonial contexts in which
recognizability of a living or deceased person was very important.
Aroya: Imaging the Metaphysical Self
Whereas in ayajora (the naturalistic portrait), a Yoruba artist endeavors to summarize the iwa, the
fact of being and the observable and recognizable features of the physical self, in aroya (the
conceptual portrait), he is more concerned with the essence of the subject or the metaphysical
self. This is particularly the case with memorials used in communicating with a dematerialized soul
in Ehin-iwa, the Afterlife (Figs. 18, 20). As it is invisible to the naked eye, this Other self--the
soul--can only be imagined. For this reason, most altar memorials are stylized to signify the return
of a dematerialized soul from telluric existence to "prenatal" spirituality, as well as its ability to be
omnipresent and to intercede with the orisa (deities) on behalf of the living. Accordingly, an artist
need not know the dead to create an appropriate memorial--though he would be briefed about
gender identity or any special mark worn on the face or body to identify the deceased with a
family or lineage. However, after leavin g the artist's workshop, the image usually undergoes
etutu, a personalization or naming ceremony aimed at establishing a spiritual kinship between
object and subject. The ceremony varies from place to place. In some cases, it involves the
dipping of a memorial into the water (omi iweku) used in washing the corpse of the deceased and
preserved for this purpose. In other cases, the image may be rubbed with the soil (ilepa) collected
from the grave of the deceased. Thereafter, a given image may be placed in a shrine, becoming the
focus of prayers, oriki (eulogies), and libations intended to influence the deceased.
The shrine figure performs three major functions in Yoruba religion. First, it is an ami (a signifier),
objectifying the human essence of the signified, making visible the invisible, and providing a locus
of veneration and devotion. Second, since art (ona) commands admiration--as indicated by the
popular Yoruba name Onaneye (literally, Art is honorable)--a memorial sculpture is ohun eye (a
19

dignifier), reflecting the high esteem in which the deceased is held. Third, it is aroko (a visual
metaphor), embodying a message; for example, the motif of a mother and child reminds a female
ancestor of her maternal duties as a provider and nurturer, while a lance-holding male figure
implores an ancestor so depicted to play the role of a protector. (98) These functions would seem
to account for the frequent use of the equestrian warrior motif (jagunjagun) to memorialize male
ancestors, in an attempt to secure their benevolence and divine protection. A nineteenth-century
example is said to commemorate Alaafin (king) Ofinra n (Fig. 18), a grandson of Oduduwa and
one of the earliest kings of Old Oyo, whose reign is often dated somewhere in the fourteenth or
fifteenth century. (99) Yoruba oral traditions identify Alaafin Ofinran, popularly called Sango, as a
great magician and warrior who led the Old Oyo cavalry to many spectacular victories, reportedly
using his magical powers to attract the thunderstorm to overwhelm his enemies in the battlefield.
On his death, he was deified and identified with thunder power. Alleged to have been salvaged
from the principal Sango shrine at Old Oyo before its destruction by the Fulani about 1835, this
equestrian statue conflates the historical and the mythological aspects of Sango--the warrior king
and deified ancestor who now hurls down the thunderbolt from the sky. A similar imagery
reverberates in his oriki (eulogy), often chanted in front of shrine images dedicated to him:
Your eyes are white like bitter kola nut
Your cheeks are round like red kola nut
Fire-spitting masquerader, you frighten the big cat....
Fire in the eye, fire in the mouth, fire on the roof
You ride fire like a horse! (100)
Accordingly, this statue of Sango has a "sight-and-sound" dimension that further deepens the
metaphoric meanings of aworan. It may be classified under what W.J.T. Mitchell calls the
"imagetext"--an inextricable weaving together of representation and discourse," so that the visible
20

becomes readable, (101) and audible. Contrary to expectations, Sango looks quiet and serene in
the statue; the horse is motionless. This manner of representation is part of a complex aesthetic
strategy aimed at dissuading Sango from violent eruptions; it is an exercise in "latent ambiguity,"
underscoring the fact that an artistic representation can hardly do justice to the kinetics of the
thunderstorm: the latter is better experienced than represented. The image falls into the category
of what Philip Wheelwright calls the "intensive symbol," which conceals and reveals at the same
time. (102)
One other important Yoruba tradition of memorial figure is the ere ibeji, a statuette dedicated to a
dead twin (Fig. 19). Underlying the practice is the notion that while twins are physically double,
they are spiritually one, and thus inseparable. If one of them should die, a statuette is made to
localize the soul of the deceased. It is usually kept in a safe place in the house and sometimes
given to the surviving twin to play with as if it were a doll, the main objective being to use the
statuette to maintain the spiritual bond between the living and the dead. The statuette, made to
reflect the gender of the deceased child, is normally commissioned from a carver on the
recommendation of a diviner. When completed, the statuette is washed in herbal preparations
before being handed over to the diviner, who then invokes the soul of the deceased twin into it.
Thereafter, the statuette is treated like a living child, being fed symbolically at the same time as the
surviving twin is having its food. If a new dress i s bought for the surviving child, a miniature is
acquired for the statuette. The one held by this woman represents her deceased twin brother, who
reportedly died about 1895, after which the memorial was carved. (103) The picture was taken in
the early 1960s. The smallness of the statue--and twin memorials in general--is both symbolic and
functional: on the one hand, it reflects the fact that, in the past, a good majority of the twins died
in infancy; on the other, the small size facilitates portability, especially when the statuette is given
to the surviving twin to play with or when the mother dances with it in honor of the deceased
twin. If both twins should die, another statuette is commissioned, and the two are treated like
living children in the hope that they will be born again to the same mother (Fig. 20). (104)
Tradition requires the carver to give both statuettes the same facial features to emphasize the
oneness in their twoness, even if the deceased twins were not identical. The statuettes are usual ly
placed in a shrine (Fig. 23) for contacting the souls of the departed twins in the Afterlife. The
21

belief that they are capable of attracting good fortune to their parents is reflected in the following
oriki (eulogy) of twins:
...The intimate two, the royal egrets, the natives of Isokun (105)
Offspring of the colobus monkey of the tree tops.... (106)
The intimate two by-passed the house [womb] of the wealthy
By-passed the house [womb] of the rich and famous....
But entered the house [womb] of the poor
Transforming the poor into a rich person.... (107)
Apepa [sorcery] cannot affect the natives of Isokun....
Both wizards and witches pay homage to the intimate two.... (108)
Ojo a ku la a d'ere: Portraiture, Posthumous Beauty, and Social Identity

The tradition of dedicating shrine figures to the dead is said to date back to an "Edenic" period in
Yoruba history called igba iwase (literally, beginnings of existence), when human beings reportedly
did not die as they do today. Whenever the physical body became too old or weak to sustain the
soul within it, all an individual needed to do was to enter a cave that led to heaven, where the soul
would reincarnate in a new body and then come back to resume earthly life. (109) Whoever was
tired of living on earth returned to heaven through the cave. Newly embodied souls entered the
earth through the same cave. Some powerful figures did not depart the normal way; they simply
turned into stone figures. (110) This is called didi ota (the art of becoming stones). According to
22

J. A. Ademakinwa, an indigene of Ife, where many ancient stone figures abound, such a person,
prior to death, would commission a portrait that would be hidden in a place known only to a few
close friends. It was these friends who secretly burie d the deceased and later announced to the
general public that a well-known personality had turned into stone, disclosing where the effigy had
been hidden, which would then be set up as a shrine to perpetuate the memory of the deceased.
(111) One such stone dated to the early part of the second millennium C.E. (Fig. 21) is said to
commemorate Idena, a famous hunter and one of the bodyguards of Oreluere, the custodian of
indigenous traditions and domestic morality in ancient Ife, who reportedly teamed up with Obatala
to challenge Oduduwa after the latter had usurped the throne. (112) Before being transferred to
the Nigerian National Museum in Lagos, the statue stood at the entrance of the Oreluere shrine at
Ife, the spot where Idena allegedly turned into stone.
The legend that the ancient ones did not die but turned into stones resonates in the popular
Yoruba saying "Ojo a ku la a d'ere, eniyan ko sunwon laaye" (It is death that turns an individual
into a beautiful sculpture; a living person has blemishes). (113) In other words, a person's earthly
existence begins as a piece of sculpture molded by Obatala and ends with the separation of the
empirical self from its meta-empirical Other; the human body becomes a corpse, reverting, as it
were, to what it was originally--an ere (sculpture). The phrase "a living person has blemishes"
bespeaks the Yoruba tendency to canonize the dead. Their code of ethics demands that a loss of
life be mourned, regardless of an individual's foibles before death; even former critics, enemies,
and detractors are expected to pay the proverbial last respects to the deceased. Similarly, an artist
is obliged to honor the dead with a well carved memorial, and he frequently makes the subject
look younger. As Mosudi Olatunji, the famous Imeko carv er, told Robert Farris Thompson in the
early 1960s:
If I am carving the face of a senior devotee I must carve him at the time he was in his prime. Why?
If I make the image resemble an old man the people will not like it. I will not be able to sell the
image. One carves as if they were young men or women to attract people. (114)

23

So it is that twin memorials (ere ibeji) are often carved to recall people in their prime (Figs. 19,
20), notwithstanding the fact that a good majority of twins died in infancy. (115) If naturalism
(ayajora) is required, as in the life-size brass heads from Ife (Figs. 13, 14) or in second-burial ako
effigies (Figs. 7-10), the artist idealizes the portrait, transforming it into an ere (sculpture) and
emphasizing composure while ignoring accidental facial features such as scars and deformities
associated with iwa physical existence. As Rowland Abiodun points out, "The deceased person
may have lost an eye, ear or even a few fingers during his life, but the [ako] effigy allows for a
reconstruction of these parts." (116) Thus, death transforms the ugly into the beautiful; "a living
person has blemishes." A memorial destined for the altar may be criticized while in the workshop
of the carver, but once consecrated and placed on an altar, it is no longer criticized because it
partakes of the sacredness and spiritual beauty associated with the dead. (117) Thereafter, the
focus is on its ritual rather than formal values.
In the past, many Yoruba wore permanent face marks that identified them with particular families,
lineages, or subethnic groups. (118) The same marks adorn the faces of secondburial statues, altar
memorials, and ancestral masks, thus relating the living to the dead and the human to the divine.
(119) As Frank Willett aptly observes, "It is indeed one of the surprises of living in Yorubaland
that one does frequently see people whose features remind one very forcibly of a particular
sculptural style, yet the sculptures are not portraits of individuals, but they are supposed to look
as if they might be." (120) In short, the Yoruba style, particularly in woodcarving, combines the
generic with the specific, relating the individual to the collective, stressing "social identity" and
thereby epitomizing the quest for unity underlying the Omo oduduwa concept. This quest finds its
most popular political expression in the image of the oba (king), the temporal and spiritual head of
a given community and a personification of its corporate existence. In the past, the king seldom
left his palace except on special occasions, and when he did, he usually wore a beaded crown with
veil that partly concealed his face (Fig. 22). However, this tradition has since been modified, so
that the king appears more frequently in public today without donning the crown, doing so only
on certain ceremonial occasions. Most crowns have a stylized face in the front that serves as the
king's official face. The same face (or a similar face--should a new king decide to replace an old
crown) identified his predecessors in public and will do the same for his successors. This face,
24

commonly identified with Oduduwa, transforms the king into a masked figure--an icon conjuring
up the image of the mythical progenitor, functioning as a paradigm of the oneness of the king and
his subjects, on the one hand, and of the reigning king and the royal dead, on the other. (121)
Itunra'nite: Is Obatala a Self-Reflection of the Yoruba Artist?
According to Yoruba cosmology, the decision of Olodumare (Supreme Being) to create humans
was prompted by a desire to transform the primeval wilderness below the sky into an orderly
estate. Human beings are called eniyan (the specially selected) because, as a divination verse puts
it, they are the ones ordained "to convey goodness" to the wilderness below the sky. (122) In
other words, divinity abides in humanity, and vice versa. It is therefore not surprising that some of
the orisa (deities) allegedly assumed human forms in order to accompany the first humans to the
earth--which easily accounts for their personification in shrine sculptures and spirit medium-ship.
Ogun, the iron deity, led the way, using his machete to cut a path through the primeval jungle,
laying the foundation for Yoruba civilization. (123) The popular name Ogunlana (Ogun paves the
way) commemorates this archetypal event, emphasizing the importance (first) of stone and (later)
of iron tools in agriculture, urban planning, lumbering, archi tecture, warfare, and art. (124) We
are also reminded of Ogun's vital contributions to the human image molded by Obatala, detailing
the face and "cutting open" the eyes later activated by Esu. The resultant image--a "masterpiece"-embodies a special ase (transformatory power), inspiring and sustaining the creativity manifested
in the visual and performing arts and enabling the Yoruba collective to continually redesign its
environment as well as to re-present itself through body adornments and idealized or
conventionalized portraiture. As one divination verse remarks:
If I am created, I will re-create myself
I will observe all the taboos
Having been created, I shall now re-create myself. (125)
25

Three major questions remain, however. Since the creativity deity Obatala also assumed an
anthropomorphic form in order to accompany the first humans to the earth, was the archetypal
human image a self-portrait? Or was Obatala originally a mortal who once lived in ancient Ife and
was deified as an orisa for his phenomenal creative endowment? Or was he a figment of the
imagination and a self-reflection of the Yoruba artist? That Obatala was a deified culture hero, if
not a self-reflection of the Yoruba artist, is evident in the popular Yoruba saying "Bi eniyan ko si,
orisa ko si" (No humanity, no deity). (126) In other words, the worshiped depends on the
worshiper for its existence; divinities are human constructs. (127) Put differently, it is eniyan
(humanity) that visualized and anthropomorphized the orisa (divinity), Simultaneously inverting
the process to rationalize its own creation. This act of self-reflection and self-re-creation
(itunra'nite) constitutes the divinities (orisa) into a sort of superhuman Other--an extension of the
metaphysical self--providing a basis for involving them in the ethics, aesthetics, poetics, and
politics of human existence. It has resulted in a conventionalized form of portraiture that easily
relates the self to the body politic, called Omo Oduduwa, (128) on the one hand, and to the
superhuman Other, venerated as Olodumare, the orisa (divinities), and deified ancestors, on the
other. Whether Oduduwa (the Yoruba mythical ancestor) is an earth goddess or a historical male
figure is not an issue here. Much more important is how the concept of a common ancestor
(alajobi) has been used to create a sociopolitical framework and a mode of portraiture in which
myth and reality, word and image, the human and divine are intricately joined to forge a Yoruba
identity out of previously diverse, even if related, groups.
Iworan: Portraiture, Spectacle, and the Dialectics of Looking

Since the face is the seat of the eyes (oju), no discussion of aworan (representation), especially
portraiture, would be complete without relating it to iworan, the act of looking and being looked
at, otherwise known as the gaze. To begin with, the Yoruba call the eyeball eyin oju, a refractive
"egg" empowered by ase (mediated by Esu), enabling an individual to see (riran). As with other
aspects of Yoruba culture, the eyeball is thought to have two aspects, an outer layer called oju ode
(literally, external eye) or oju lasan (literally, naked eye), which has to do with normal, quotidian
26

vision, and an inner one called oju inu (literally, internal eye) or oju okan (literally, mind's eye).
The latter is associated with memory, intention, intuition, insight, thinking, imagination, critical
analysis, visual cognition, dreams, trances, prophecy, hypnotism, empathy, telepathy, divination,
healing, benevolence, malevolence, extrasensory perception, and witchcraft, among others. For
the Yoruba, these two layers of th e eye combine to determine iworan, the specular gaze of an
individual. The stress on the root verb, wo (to look at), clearly shows that aworan (portrait or
picture) is a "lure" for the gaze--to borrow Jacques Lacan's term. (129) As noted earlier, the term
aworan is a contraction of a (that which), wo (to look at), and ranti (to recall [the subject]),
alluding both to the capacity of a representation to recall its referent and to an artist's preliminary
contemplation (a-wo) of the raw material and the pictorial memory (iranti) involved in visualizing
and objectifying the form. As Lacan has pointed out, the act of looking is influenced by a host of
factors, such as desire, mood, knowledge, cultural milieu, and individual whims and caprices, and
it is a reciprocal process as well. What we see (animate or inanimate) also "sees" us and has a
particular way of relating to our eyes. (130) This illusion is most striking in aworan (especially a
portrait), which stares back at the aworan (spectator), turning him or her into an iran (spectacle),
if not another picture (aworan), (131) The fear that a viewer may subjectively read into a portrait's
gaze what was not intended by the artist or the subject may very well be one of the reasons why
many Yoruba in the past (especially the rich and privileged) refrained from having themselves
portrayed naturalistically or in a manner that may trigger jealousy in the have-nots and awon aye
(the evil-minded ones). A divination verse sums up the mutual suspicion associated with the gaze
in the following manner:
You are looking at me; I am looking at you.
Who has something up his/her sleeves between the two of us? (132)
Some may resent how a portrait seems to snub them; others may be frustrated by something they
see about themselves in that portrait--something they subconsciously want to be but, somehow,
cannot be. It is as though the achievements of one person have hindered the progress of another.
27

It should be pointed out, however, that naturalistic effigies of the dead are not treated with the
same suspicion, being primarily intended to mark their last physical, even if symbolic, appearance
among the living. The popular saying "Oku olomo ki i sun gbagbe" (Those survived by children
do not sleep forgetfully) (133) explains why most second-burial portraits have their eyes wide
open (Figs. 7-12). It is an appeal to the departed to remain vigilant in the Afterlife, protecting the
interests of their living relations and interceding with the deities on their behalf. (134) When
installed indoors, seated on a stool, a second-burial effigy receives many salutations, becoming
apewo (a focus of the gaze) and recalling the phrase "It is death that turns an individual into a
beautiful sculpture; a living person has blemishes." (135) Some relations would look at the effigy
straight in the eyes while chanting the oriki (eulogy) of the deceased, imploring its soul not to stay
too long in the Afterlife before reincarn ating as a newborn baby. Former peers may talk to the
image, calling the deceased by name and pledging to assist in completing any unfinished project or
in ensuring that the toddlers left behind do not suffer. In 1967, at the second-burial ceremony
(ipade) of a hunter at Ifo, near Abeokuta, I witnessed what the Yoruba would call awosunkun,
that is, "look and cry." The effigy had just been delivered to the family by the carver and was taken
to the backyard of the house for a dress rehearsal before the real ceremony began in the evening.
It was rendered in the same style as that of Chief Aniwe (Figs. 11, 12), except that it had three
vertical marks (pele) on the cheeks. Placed against the wall, the effigy was fitted with a cotton
smock (dansiki) and a pouchlike hunter's cap (adiro). Then, some people knelt down and prayed
in front of it. But the children of the deceased just stared speechlessly at the effigy, unable to
control the tears welling up in their eyes and running down their cheeks. For them, it was a sad
reminder of a physical self--once full of life, energy, and enthusiasm--now gone irretrievably with
the past, to be encountered in an immaterial form only in dreams, visions, and flashes of memory,
according to the dirge cited earlier. (136)

Whereas most second-burial figures are life-size and intended for public and open-air display, a
good majority of the altar figures are smaller in scale, being designed to fit into private,
prosceniumlike indoor spaces or small rooms serving as sites for offering periodic prayers and
sacrifices to the deities or ancestral dead. Here the view of the figures is restricted to a handful of
28

people such as the priest in charge or the owner of a given altar and those seeking spiritual
assistance. Nonetheless, the diminutive and schematized forms of most altar figures, barely visible
in the dimness of an indoor shrine, tend to place the figures at a considerable remove from the
worldly, creating an illusion of an otherworldly space into which a beholder gazes in awe of the
sublime (Fig. 23.) (137) With protruding eyes and looking like extraterrestrial beings, the figures
(especially those with well-defined pupils) return the viewer's gaze so fixedly as if seeing beyond
the visible or reading the viewer's mind. In the scopic encounter (and from the author's personal
experience) one soon begins to identify with, or see oneself in the figures--not necessarily in the
Lacanian sense of a mirror image in which the self is alienated (138) but, rather, in a futuristic
sense (as the figures are not mimetic) of what this mortal self shall eventually and inevitably
become: an ere (sculpture). This calls to mind, once again, that popular saying "It is death that
turns an individual into a beautiful sculpture...." Some altar figures (especially those without
clearly defined eyes) seem to look inward, as if in a reverie, or as if meditating on the fate of
humanity. (139)
The Yoruba ambivalence toward the gaze is summed up in the popular phrase "Ejeji la a wo
eniyan; bi o ba se yinyin, a se eebu" (We look at a person in one of two ways: either to commend
or to condemn). (140) The positive aspect, which elicits commendation (iyin), has to do with the
adun (pleasures or benefits) derived from looking or being admired. What attracts and nourishes
the eyes (oju) is the ewa (beauty), isona (creativity), or ara (tour de force) manifested in a given
spectacle, portrait, or a work of art in general. Any striking evidence of the beautiful or the
virtuosic is said to fa oju mora (magnetize the eyes), ba oju mu (fit the eyes), becoming awowotun-wo (that which compels repeated gaze) or awoma-leelo (that which moors the gaze. (141)
The genuine or a precious object is called ojulowo (literally, the eyes have money), implying that
the object is so unique that "the eyes can spend any amount to look at it." An image is designated
awoyanu (literally, that which causes the viewer to gape) if it manifests such an incredibly high
artistic skill as to suggest the use of occult powers. Consequently, the Yoruba use the same term,
dun (delicious), for a palatable meal and a memorable spectacle, both arousing a desire for more.
In the words of a Yoruba poet:
29

What do we call food for the eyes?

What pleases the eyes as prepared yam flour satisfies the stomach?
The eyes have no food other than a spectacle....
Never will the eyes fail to greet the beautiful one;
Never will the eyes fail to look upon one-as-elegant-as-a-kob-antelope.
"Egungun masks are performing in the market; let us go and watch them."
It is because we want to feed the eyes." (142)
Thus, for the Yoruba, a verbal description, however vivid, can never match a direct observation.
This is illustrated by the popular saying "Irohin ko to afojuba" (Listening to a report is not the
same thing as being an eyewitness). The term aworeriin (look and laugh) often refers to a funnylooking image or a satirical performance, although it may also be applied to a poorly executed
portrait that exposes the subject to public derision. Any image or spectacle (such as a performance
by Gelede masks) that entertains and educates at the same time is called awokogbon (look and
learn). The term awodunnu (look and feel the sweetness in the stomach), on the other hand, refers
to a spectacle or image that fills one with joy. Yemoja, a fertility goddess and the source of all
waters, is often called Awoyo (literally, the sight that fills the stomach) because of the popular
belief that looking at her altar figure or into a pot of sacred water with pebbles from the Ogun
River (which is sacred to her) fills her devotees' wombs with children. (143)
So far, we have dealt with the benefits of looking. What are the positive sides of being looked at,
directly, or indirectly through one's portrait? Compliments (iyin) from admirers about one's
physical endowment, character, taste, dress, or achievements boost one's ego and confidence and
may also facilitate social mobility within one's community. One becomes a gbajumo, the Yoruba
30

term for a celebrity, which literally means "someone known to two hundred [many] faces." (144)
Since only a few achieve such a status, most people find solace in the possibility of obtaining the
spiritual benefits of the gaze from Olodumare (Supreme Being) and the orisa (deities). As a matter
of fact, the root verb wo (to gaze or look at) also means to nurture, to look after, or to cure,
(145) as evident in the prayer for a newborn child, "Olodumare a woo" (May the Supreme Being
look at or after it). In this context, wo (look at or after) is synonymous with toju (literally, bring
up under the eyes), meaning to take care of. A medical facility is lle itoju (literally, a house for
health care). A successful treatment is iwosan, a contraction of i (act of), wo (being gazed at), and
san (be cured), or iwoye, that is, i (act of), wo (being gazed at), and ye (be saved). In preventive
medicine, as mentioned earlier, the portrait of an individual may be kept in a shrine to immunize
the subject from infectious diseases or sorcery. Now and then, a woman who conceived and had a
child after offering sacrifices to an ancestor or a particular deity may return to its shrine to deposit
a votive mother and child figure portraying herself and the child. (146) That such portraits are
under the protective gaze of the ancestors or orisa is obvious in popular Yoruba names like
Ogunwoo (Iron deity, look after this [child]) and Sangobamiwoo (Thunder deity, help me to look
after this [child]). The following invocation to Ifa (the divination deity) sheds more light on this
phenomenon:
Ifa, fix your eyes upon me and look at me well
It is when you fix your eyes upon one that he is rich;
It is when you fix your eyes upon one that he prospers. (147)
This type of gaze is called oju rere (the benevolent eye) or oju aanu (the merciful eye). (148) It
follows, therefore, that the Yoruba altar, called ojubo (literally, face of the worshiped), functions
as a kind of mask that facilitates ifojukoju, namely, "a face-to-face communion" between the
worshiper and the worshiped, enabling the latter to appreciate the oriki (eulogy) rendered in its
honor. (149) It is worth noting that the most sacred symbol of a deity--an organic substance or a
collection of charms--is usually concealed inside a wooden bowl with a face carved on it to
31

provide an ocular outlet for its content (Fig. 24). Such a face also implicates Esu the agent of
sight and receiver and courier of all the sacrifices offered to a deity. (150)
This brings us to the consequences of being looked at in a negative manner. To begin with, any
transgression of the social, moral, or dress codes often attracts frowns (ibojuje), uncomplimentary
remarks (eebu), and such actions as may affect one's reputation or career. However, the gaze most
feared by the Yoruba is that of an aje (a woman with mystical powers) or an oso (her male
counterpart), whose oju okan (mind's eye) is deemed to have both beneficent and maleficent
aspects. Its maleficent aspect, called oju oro (poisonous eye) or oju buruku (evil eye) generates-according to popular belief--enigmatic rays that penetrate the victim's body, either directly or
through a portrait, causing high blood pressure, mental derangement, malignant sores and tumors,
paralysis of the limbs, infertility in men and women, epileptic seizures, and debilitating diseases,
among other effects. Anyone who dies suddenly after complaining of seeing strange faces in
dreams is suspected of being a victim of awopa (literally, killer gaze). This term is also used
sarcastically for an incompetent doctor (known for wrong diagnoses) and whose patients are
more likely to die than survive their illnesses. (151)
Aiwoo!: The Politics of Image Concealment
The emphasis on observable representations in the current discourse of the gaze tends to ignore a
practice common in sub-Saharan Africa whereby images are deliberately concealed to stress their
ontological significance or "affecting presence." (152) For instance, among the Baule of Cote
d'lvoire, as Susan Vogel has observed, "the act of looking at a work of art, or at spiritually
significant objects, is for the most part privileged and potentially dangerous. ... The power and
danger of looking lie in a belief that objects are potent, capable of polluting those who see them."
(153) The Yoruba have a similar concept, as expressed in the popular admonition "Eni to ba wo
iwokuwo, yo ri irikuri" (Whoever looks at the forbidden will see the fearful). In other words,
delightful as looking may be on certain occasions, it could be fraught with danger at times. This is
because eyin oju, the refractive "egg" called the eyeball, could weaken or be extinguished like a
lamp if exposed to the sight of the "forbidden," which , in Yoruba thought, may range from ghosts
32

to potent charms and images. Such phenomena are called awofoju (literally, look and be blinded)
or awoku (literally, look and die), depending on the mystical powers attributed to them. (154)
Only initiates or those whose eyes are ritually protected may safely look. The images in this
category derive their mystique partly from folklore and partly from the fact that they are
frequently covered up when displayed in broad daylight. For example, before being taken out of
the shrine for a special ceremony in the forest, the stone images of the creativity deity Obatala
(right) and his consort Yemoo (left) are wrapped in white cloth (Fig. 25). Tradition requires that
the bearers of the images chant a special incantation, which, as Phillips Stevens puts it, "will cause
the images to become lighter and their bearers more comfortable. If the incantation is not sung
with a will, or if it is neglected entirely, the bearer of the images will tire and become weak." (155)
Conscious of the onlookers, who keep a safe distance, the bearers often turn the occasion into a
performance, using cadence and body language to dramatize the sacredness and heaviness of the
wrapped images.
Whenever an exceptionally potent image is to be exposed in a public ritual that takes place mostly
at night, a curfew is usually in force. During the event a voice warns intermittently, "Don't look at
it! [Aiwoo!] ]"; 'You see it, you die! [Wori, Woku!]"; "Don't look at it! [Aiwoo!]." This is
particularly the case with the Agan, a mythological being that comes out on the eve of the annual
festival of masks (Odun Egungun) honoring the "Living Dead." The Agan image (sometimes
represented by a bundle of charms, a carving, a masked figure, or spirit medium) is enveloped in
darkness and closely guarded by attendants holding whips. As the procession approaches an area,
the residents are cautioned to put out all the lights within and outside their houses to ensure total
darkness. Now and then, an eerie voice cuts through the night, followed by a chorus proclaiming
the Agan's supernatural power. For example:
Agan's arms are smaller than the sand fly's
Its tail is not as big as the ant's
Yet 1,460 men lifted Agan
33

And could not lift it to knee level. (156)

One divination verse hints at the dire consequences of spying on the Agan:
Do not set your eyes on me
No one looks at the Orombo (157)
If the Agan comes Out in daytime
Trees will fall upon trees; palms will fall upon one another
Forests will be razed to the ground
The savannah will burn out completely
This is what the Ifa oracle predicted for Mafojukanmi [Do-Not-Set-Your-Eyes-on-Me]
Popularly called Agan. (158)
According to Peter Morton-Williams, a British anthropologist who did fieldwork in Yorubaland in
the 1950s, the Agan was accompanied by other "unlookable" beings during the Egungun festival
at Ota:
It is important here to draw attention to the calculated use of sound effects and picturesque
language against the darkness of the night, to project a surreal vision of the unseeable while, at the
same time, denying the people confined indoors access to its material representation. (160) The
ultimate aim is to control visual behavior and instill a reverential fear of the sacred so complex
that the mere realization that one has seen the forbidden may precipitate the psychosomatic
complications popularly associated with awofoju (look and be blinded) or awoku (look and die).
34

My escort to Ota had spent the night with his kinsmen, shut in another house, and he told me the
next day that they had all been very much afraid, for they believed that Agan and Mariwo had
magic which enable [d] them to "see" and attack anyone they wanted, wherever he was hidden in
a house. On the last night of the festival, there is again a terrifying incursion, under the same
conditions, with people locked in their houses with lights extinguished. This visitation is of Aranta.
The Aranta is said to be accompanied by the voice of many animals and birds, and the sound of
"witchcraft," made with a variety of voice-disguisers. (159)
New Forms, Old Values: Contemporary Developments
Since the turn of the twentieth century, Yorubaland, like other parts of Africa, has been witnessing
unprecedented cultural, political, and economic transformations due to the impact of Western
education, modern technology, and increasing urbanization. Yet many Yoruba have not totally
abandoned their ancient customs. Mass conversion to Islam and Christianity, both of which
associate traditional sculpture with paganism, has led some Yoruba to adopt new forms as
camouflage in order to continue with those indigenous values to which they are still emotionally
attached. While modern photography has encouraged a good majority to record important events
in their lives through individual and family portraits, the fear lingers that a printed image is
susceptible to sympathetic magic. Hence, individuals keep their photograph albums in a secure
place to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. Some Yoruba herbalists advise that one
should hold one's breath while posing for a photograph to immunize the image again st sorcery.
Photographs now play major roles in a number of public and private ceremonies, either alone or in
conjunction with sculptures carved in the traditional style.
The image on the lap of the seated woman in Figure 26 (carved by Ajayi Ibuke in 1970) represents
the current king of Oy6, Alaafin Oba Lamidi Adeyemi II, who is required to be present, in spirit
but not in person, at certain public ceremonies intended to promote the social and spiritual wellbeing of his subjects. I took this picture in Oyo in 1972 at the grand finale of the annual festival in
honor of Sango, one of the ancient kings of Old Oyo who was deified and is now associated with
thunder power (Fig. 18). The carved image has a photograph of Oba Adeyemi attached to stress
35

his liminal role as a living representative of Sango on earth. (161) All the important guests arriving
at the venue bowed before the "photo-sculptural" image of Oba Adeyemi, and during the
ceremony it was the focus of attention. The drummers, dancers, and Sango-possession priests
performed before it most of the time. During the intervals, praise singers entered the performance
arena, moving back and forth in front of the image and chant ing the king's oriki (eulogy). The
audience responded intermittently with "Ka-bi-ye-si!" (Long live the king!). At the end of the
ceremony, the chief possession priest faced the image, as if it were the king himself, and wished
him good health, long life, and the continued blessing of Sango. In fact, when not in use, this
carved portrait is usually kept inside the Sango temple in the Koso area of town, an act that
metaphorically places the king (Oba Adeyemi) under the divine and protective gaze of Sango.
Enlarged photographs are now a popular substitute for carved effigies in second-burial
ceremonies, being buried in the same manner as the effigies. (162) In some cases, a second-burial
memorial for a hunter (ipade) may be no more than an assemblage of flintlocks, hunting dress, hat,
and charms, in front of which is displayed a photograph of the deceased. Those who can afford
the expenses now commission naturalistic, Western-type memorials in cement, stone, or marble in
honor of deceased parents. (163) Yet, in times of crisis, these memorials often double as shrines
for clandestine rituals enlisting the spiritual aid of the dead.
There is a peculiar use of photography in twin rituals that denies the specificity of its naturalism in
order to emphasize the oneness in the twoness of twins. For instance, if one of the pair should die
without leaving behind a photographic image, the surviving twin is photographed in the dress of
the deceased, becoming its proxy in the photograph, whether or not they are identical. This
photographic image thereafter serves as a means of maintaining the twins' togetherness in life and
death. If the twins are of the same sex, the photographer sometimes exposes the image of the
surviving twin twice on the same paper, so that the living and the dead (represented by the living)
appear to be sitting side by side in the print. But if the twins are of the opposite sex, the surviving
twin is photographed in a male dress and then in a female's. The two images are eventually
combined in the final print as if the twins had posed together (Fig. 27). (164) Such photographs
are thought to have spiritual powers and are som etimes placed in shrines, receiving offerings of
36

food like the carved statuettes. (165) As Marilyn Houlberg observed in the field, "The life of the
survivor is said to depend on the existence and veneration of the photograph, just as it would be
in the case of a wood image." (166) Through this photomontage technique, contemporary Yoruba
photographers perpetuate old values in new forms, especially the tradition of deemphasizing
individual identity for a collective one, which, in the case of twins, affirms their sameness.
In sum, despite the impact of Western aesthetics and modern technology on the Yoruba, they have
not completely given up their belief in the ontological, mnemonic, and ritual significance of
aworan (representation). Art in the traditional styles continues to be made, though it is gradually
being modified to reflect the dynamics of change. Naturalistic portraits of living persons (in oil
painting and other media) are now a commonplace in Yorubaland, due, in part, to a growing
acceptance of the documentary function of modern photography and, in part, to a significant
decline in the fear of sorcery, especially among the elites in the urban areas. Sometimes, as we
have seen in twin memorials, the physical likeness inherent in photography may be ignored to
make it serve a conceptual and ritual function, so that the same form may be duplicated to
represent the self and its metaphysical Other. In short, a strong belief in an interface of the visible
and invisible, the tangible and intangible, the known and unknown ma kes it evident that the act of
looking and seeing in Yoruba culture is much more than a perception of objects by use of the eyes.
It is a social experience as well, involving, on the one hand, a delicate balance of culturally
determined modes of perceiving and interpreting reality and, on the other, individual reactions to
specific images and spectacles.

Notes
The first version of this article (titled "Beyond Physiognomy: The Signifying Face in Yoruba Art
and Thought") was presented at a special session of the African Studies Workshop, University of
Chicago, Jan. 27, 1998. I am grateful to Ralph Austen, Andrew Apter, Fredrika Jacobs, Howard
Risatti, Robert Hobbs, Sharon Hill, Allan Roberts, Polly Nooter Roberts, and the anonymous Art
Bulletin readers for their thoughtful comments. Special thanks are due to John T. Paoletti and
37

Perry Chapman for their criticisms, insights, and suggestions, Lory Frankel for her meticulous
copyediting, and Ulli Beier, George Chemeche, Justine Cordwell, Ron Epps, Robin Poynor,
Robert Farris Thompson, Frank Willett, and Richard Woodward for photographic assistance. I
would also like to acknowledge the research support provided by the Faculty Grant-in-Aid and
the School of the Arts Research Leave programs, Virginia Commonwealth University. Translations
are mine unless otherwise indicated.
(1.) See Babatunde Lawal, "The Role of Art in Orisa Worship among the Yoruba," in Proceedings
of the First World Congress of Orisa Tradition, ed. Wande Abimbola (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department
of African Languages and Literatures, University of Ife, 1981), 318-25. Whereas aworan is a
generic term for all artistic representations, the word ere refers to an image in the round, that is, a
piece of sculpture. The word ere denotes an intricate design or pattern, although it is also used to
describe a tour de force manifested in the visual and performing arts.
(2.) For example, awo means plate; awo, fishing net; and awo, secrecy.
(3.) See also A Dictionary of the Yoruba Language (Lagos: Oxford University Press, 1968); and
R. C. Abraham, Dictionary of Modern Yoruba (London: University of London Press, 1958).
(4.) Richard Brilliant, Portraiture (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1991), 11.
(5.) See Samuel Johnson, The History of the Yorubas from the Earliest Times to the Beginning of
the British Protectorates (Lagos: Church Missionary Society, 1921); Saburi 0. Biobaku, ed.,
Sources of Yoruba History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973); Wande Abimbola, ed., Yoruba Oral
Tradition (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department of African Languages and Literatures, University of Ife,
1975); Toyin Falola, ed., Yoruba Historiography (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press,
1991); and Abiodun et al. In his extensive study of oral tradition in Africa and other parts of the
world, Jan Vansina has demonstrated that, while they may not be as reliable as written
documentation, oral traditions "embody a message from the past" and so can contribute much to
the reconstruction of the past, provided that they are used with caution and correlated with
38

independent evidence. See Vansina, Oral Tradition as History Madison, Wis.: University of
Wisconsin Press, 1985); and idem, Art History in Africa (London: Longman, 1984).
(6.) The city's name Ife is an abbreviation of Ile-Ife, meaning "the place from where civilization
spread to other lands." The two names are used interchangeably in the literature on Yoruba art.
For consistency, I use Ife throughout this article, except in quoted passages and bibliographic
references.
(7.) Notwithstanding the fact that they spoke different dialects of the same language, each
kingdom was independent of the other and identified by a distinct name. The term Yoruba
formerly applied only to the Oyo subgroup. However, after the British colonization of Nigeria in
the 19th century, the term was used to categorize all the kingdoms speaking the same language as
the Oyo. For a good introduction to the history and culture of the Yoruba, see G. J. Afolabi Ojo,
Yoruba Culture: A Geographical Analysis (London: University of London Press, 1966); and
Robert S. Smith, Kingdoms of the Yoruba, 3d ed. (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press,
1988). For a comprehensive survey of Yoruba art, see Robert F. Thompson, Black Gods and
Kings, Yoruba Art at U.C.L.A. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1971); and Drewal et
al.
(8.) J. Olumide Lucas, The Religion of the Yorubas (Lagos: Church Missionary Society, 1948),
93-97; Ulli Beier, "The Historical and Psychological Significance of Yoruba Myths," Odu, Journal
of Yoruba and Related Studies I (1955): 19-22; and Idowu, 25-27. For details, see Biodun
Adediran, "The Early Beginnings of the Ife State," in Akinjogbin, 77.
(9.) For details, see John Wyndham, Myths of Ife (London: Erskine Macdonald, 1921), 13-34;
Phillips Stevens, "Orisa-Nla Festival," Nigeria Magazine, no. 90 (1966): 187; Idowu, 18-27;
Fabunmi, 6-7; Smith (as in n. 7), 14; and Isola Olomola, "Ife before Oduduwa," in Akinjogbin, 5161.

39

(10.) Adediran (as in n.8), 90; and Isaac Akinjogbin, "The Growth of Ife from Oduduwa to 1800,"
in Akinjogbin, 98.
(11.) For details, see Abiodun A. Adediran and Samuel A. Arifalo, "The Religious Festivals of Ife,"
in Akinjogbin, 305-17; and Joel Adedaji, "Folklore and Yoruba Drama: Obatala as a Case Study,"
in African Folklore, ed. Richard M. Dorson (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1972),
321-39. See also Blier, 3, 386.
(12.) For a review of the evidence, see Robin C. Law, "The Heritage of Oduduwa Traditions:
History and Political Propaganda," Journal of African History 14, no. 2 (1973): 207-22; Ade
Obayemi, "The Yoruba and EdoSpeaking Peoples and Their Neighbours before 1600," in History
of West Africa, ed. J.F.A. Ajayi and Michael C. Crowder, vol. 1 (London: Longman, 1971), 196263; Isola Olomola, "The Eastern Yoruba Country before Oduduwa: A Reassessment," in The
Proceedings of the Conference on Yoruba Civilization, ed. Isaac A. Akinjogbin and G. 0.
Ekemode (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department of History, University of Ife, 1976), 34-73; Ulli Baler,
"Before Oduduwa," Odu, Journal of Yoruba and Related Studies 3 (1956): 25-42; Robin Horton,
"Ancient Ife: A Reassessment," Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria 9, no. 4 (1979): 69150; and Samuel 0. Arifalo, "Egbe Omo Oduduwa: Structure and Strategy," Odu, Journal of West
African Studies, n,s., no. 21 (1981): 73-96. To further reinforce the Omo Oduduwa doctrine, the
Yoruba al so call themselves Omo e k'aaro, e o ji ire? (Those who love to say, "Good morning, did
you wake up well?)--alluding to the emphasis on courtesy in their culture. The quest for social
harmony is emphasized in the proverb "E k'aaro e o ji ire ki i s'omo iya ija" (figuratively, Good
neighborliness and quarrelsomeness are not compatible).
(13.) Idowu, 71. This prayer is necessary because Obatala is characterized in some myths as a
habitual drinker who, when drunk, creates albinos, hunchbacks, cripples, and other disfigured
persons.
(14.) For details, see Wande Abimbola, Iwapele: The Concept of Good Character in Ifa Literary
Corpus," in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 389-418; Lawal, 1974, 239-49; Rowland Abiodun, "Identity
40

and Artistic Process in Yoruba Aesthetic Concept of Iwa," Journal of Culture and Ideas 1 no, 1
(1983): 13-30; and idem, "The Future of African Studies: An African Perspective," in African
Studies: The Future of the Discipline, Symposium Organized by the National Museum of African
Art (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1990), 63-89.
(15.) The identification of the female body with procreation was probably responsible for the
taboo in the past that a woman should not engage in sculpture because it might interfere with her
reproductive power. Hence, only postmenopausal women were allowed to do figurative pottery.
Although this taboo is still strong in rural Yorubaland, it is no longer honored by the Westerneducated Yoruba in the urban areas, who now allow their daughters to specialize in sculpture in
art school.
(16.) See Beier, 19-20. Another Yoruba word for mother is iye or yeye, which means, according
to several field informants, "the one who laid me [ye] like an egg." Because of the tonal nature of
the Yoruba language, it is significant to note that while ya means to visualize or fashion in any
medium. ya means to draw. I am grateful to several Yoruba artists for the ideas expressed in this
paragraph, most especially, Michael Labode of Idofoyi, Ayetoro, Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko
(both interviewed in 1971), Ajayi Ibuke of Oyo (interviewed in 1972-73), Gbetu Asude of Ife
(interviewed in 1971); and George Bamidele of Osi Ekiti (interviewed in 1973).
(17.) The carver Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko drew my attention to a cognate term, arogbe, a
contraction of a (act of), ro (to think or imagine). and gbe (to carve).
(18.) The Earth Goddess is frequently represented on the altar as a pair of male and female figures
to symbolize her androgynous nature and the fact that she transcends the manifestation of gender
in the physical world. For more details, see Babatunde Lawal, "A YA GBO, A YA TO: New
Perspectives on Edan Ogboni," African Arts 28, no. 1 (1995): 36-49, 98-100; Peter MortonWilliams, "An Outline of the Cosmology of the Oyo Yoruba," Africa, Journal of the International
African Institute 34 (1964): 243-60; and E. Roache-Selk, From the Womb of the Earth: An
Appreciation of Yoruba Bronze Art (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1978).
41

(19.) Although Yoruba artists have produced works in various media, ranging from clay and ivory
to stone, iron, and brass, a good majority of them are in wood. This is partly because wood is easy
to sculpt and partly because much of Yorubaland lies in the rain-forest zone with abundant trees
for carving.
(20.) For more details, see Peter Lloyd, "Craft Organizations in Yoruba Towns," Africa, Journal of
the International African Institute 23 (1953): 30-44; and Abiodun et al.
(21.) Abiodun, 1990 (as in n. 14), 76-77.
(22.) See also Kevin C. Carroll, Yoruba Religious Carving (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1967),
94-95; and Tunde Akinyemi, "Ise Ona Sise," in Ise Isenbaye, ed. T. M. Ilesanmi (Ile-Ife, Nigeria:
Obafemi Awolowo University Press. 1989), 257-59.
(23.) I am especially grateful to indigenous carvers suds as George Bamidele of Osi Ekiti, Ajayi
Ibuke of Oyo, and Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko for their hospitality during my fieldwork. For
more information on ase, see Pierre Verger, "The Yoruba High God: A Review of the Sources,"
Odu, University of Ife Journal of African Studies 2, no. 2 (1966): 19-40; and Rowland Abiodun,
"Understanding Yoruba Art and Aesthetics: The Concept of Ase," African Arts 27, no. 3 (1994):
68-78, 102-3.
(24.) For more information on oriki, see Chief J. A. Ayorinde, "Oriki," in Biobaku (as in n. 5), 6376; Bolanle Awe, "Notes on Oriki and Warfare in Yorubaland" in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 267-92;
and Karen Barber, I Could Speak until Tomorrow: Oriki, Women, and the Past in a Yoruba Town
(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991).
(25.) Wande Abimbola, Ifa: An Exposition of Ifa Literary Corpus (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford
University Press, 1976), 133-34 (trans.). Yoruba text: "Bi mo ba lowo lowo / Ori ni n o ro fun /
Ori mi iwo ni / Bi mo ba bimo laye / Orin ni n o ro fun / Ori mi iwo ni / Ire gbogbo u mo ba ni laye
/ Ori ni n o ro fun / Ori mi iwo ni."
42

(26.) For more details, see Babatunde Lawal, "Orilonise: The Hermeneutics of the Head and
Hairstyles among the Yoruba," in Hair in African Art and Culture, ed. Roy Sieber and Frank
Herreman (New York: Museum of African Art; Munich: Prestel, 2000), 93-109.
(27.) Olabiyi B. Yai, "In Praise of Metonymy: The Concepts of 'Tradition' and 'Creativity' in the
Transmission of Yoruba Artistry over Time and Space," in Abiodun et al., 107.
(28.) For details, see Babatunde Lawal, "Ori: The Significance of the Head in Yoruba Sculpture,"
Journal of Anthropological Research 41, no. 1 (1985): 91-103.
(29.) For more on Esu, see Idowu, 78-83; Joan Wescott, "The Sculpture and Myths of EshuElegba, the Yoruba Trickster," Africa, Journal of the International African Institute 32, no. 4
(1962): 337-54: Juana E. dos Santos and Deoscoredes dos Santos, Esu Bara Laroye (Ibadan,
Nigeria: Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, 1971); and John Pemberton, "EshuElegba: The Yoruba Trickster God," African Arts 9, no. 1 (1975): 20-27, 66-70, 90-91.
(30.) Wande Abimbola, "The Yoruba Concept of Human Personality," in La notion de personne en
Afrique: Colloques internationaux du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, no. 544
(Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1971), 80. See also Lawal (as in n. 28), 91103; and Rowland Abiodun, "Verbal and Visual Metaphors: Mythical Allusions in Yoruba
Ritualistic Art of Ori," Word and Image, Journal of Verbal-Visual Inquiry 3, no. 3 (1987): 252-70.
(31.) Christopher L. Adeoye, Asa ati Ise Yoruba (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), 30.
(32.) In the Yoruba language, the word oju refers to both the face and the eye; the eyeball is eyin
oju (the egg of the eye). The face, as used in this article, also implicates the eyes, except when it is
necessary to differentiate the one from the other.
(33.) William Bascom, Ifa Divination: Communication between Men an Gods in West Africa
(Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1969), 159.
43

(34.) Ibid., 97.

(35.) See also Nathaniel Fadipe, The Sociology of the Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: University of
Ibadan Press, 1970), 285-86.
(36.) Philip Allison, African Stone Sculpture (New York: Frederick Praeger, 1968), 21.
(37.) Labolarinde is the name of the individual being asked to go and look for Esu's figure at the
city gate.
(38.) Pierre Verger, Notes sur le culte des Orisa et Vodun a Bahia, la Baie de tous les Saints, au
Bresil et a l'Ancienne Cote des Esclaves en Afrique (Dakar, Senegal: IFAN, 1957), 127. Yoruba
text: "A le kuru A le ga / O nlo ninu epa atari re nhan firifiri / Opelope giga ti o ga / Esu ni o gun
ori aro ni o fi bu iyo si obe. . . . / Labolarinde, ti o ba de bode ti o ko ba ba ni enu odi ni nro oko /
On na ni o da oko nibiti arugbo le de." See also Pemberton (as in n. 29), 25; Beier, 28; and
Adeoye (as in n. 31), 32.
(39.) For the Yoruba, iwa has two aspects, the external and internal; the one has to do with
physical appearance, and the other with character. Both aspects are taken into consideration in the
assessment of an individual's beauty (ewa). For instance, a person with a beautiful body but who
has an unpleasant character is regarded as no more than a wooden doll, whereas the popular
saying asserts, "Iwa I'ewa" (Character determines beauty). For details, see Lawal, 1974, 239-49.
(40.) Robert F. Thompson, "Yoruba Artistic Criticism," in The Traditional Artist in African
Society, ed. Warren L. d'Azevedo (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1973), 32.
(41.) For more on the Yoruba concept of the spirit double, see Raymond Prince, "Indigenous
Yoruba Psychiatry," in Magic, Faith and Healing, ed. Ari Kiev (New York: Free Press, 1964), 9394; and Idowu, 173. In the case of twins (ibeji), some Yoruba believe that an individual has been
44

born along with his or her spirit double. For details, see Marilyn Houlberg, "Ibeji Images of the
Yoruba," African Arts 7, no. 1 (1973): 20-27, 91.
(42.) Frequently, the patient may be given some herbal mixture to drink or an amulet to wear on
the body to link the portrait with the portrayed.

(43.) Informants wish to remain anonymous because of the sensitive nature of the materials.
According to them, to prevent abortion or premature delivery, for instance, a piece of twine may
be wound around the belly of an image representing the patient. This ritual is called oyun dide
(tying of pregnancy). The twine would be removed a few weeks before the baby was due,
otherwise, normal delivery would be impossible. In sorcery, the same method may be used to
delay or postpone delivery indefinitely. That is why any woman with an unusually long pregnancy
is advised to consult diviners to help trace the cause. A patient with persistent or chronic body
pain is sometimes given a small effigy to be kept very close to the body so that the pain can
transfer into it. After a while, the effigy is thrown into a river to cool the pain. Gagging an effigy
may cause the subject to stammer or become incoherent or speechless. This is called edi
(muzzling). Another form of edi involves binding up an effigy's limbs with a string to hamper
movement or cause paralysis. William Fagg illustrates a bound figure in his book Miniature Wood
Carvings of West Africa (Greenwich, Conn.: New York Graphic Society, 1970), pl. 24, although,
according to him, the function of the string is unknown. An image with a swollen leg or scrotum is
expected to cause elephantiasis, though the same image may be used to effect a cure. In a special
ritual called apeta (invoke and shoot) or apepa (invoke and kill), a clay effigy is procured and then
shot at with a gun or poisoned arrow. The subject is expected to die sooner or later. Among the
Fon of the Republic of Benin, "power images" variously called bocio (bo, charm, and cio, corpse)
and atin vle gbeto (atin, wood, vle, resembling, and gbeto, human being) perform similar
functions. Some bocio are portraits of specific individuals, while others represent personified
nature forces. For details, see Suzanne P. Blier, African Vodun: Art, Psychology, and Power
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995).
45

(44.) Lewis Hyde, Trickster Makes This World: Mischief Myth, and Art (New York: Farrar Straus
and Giroux, 1998), 7-10. See also Lawal, 1974, 242-43.
(45.) Timothy A. Awoniyi, "Omoluwabi: The Fundamental Basis of Yoruba Traditional
Education," in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 379.
(46.) Idowu, 11; and Fabunmi, 8.
(47.) As cautioned in the popular proverb: "Bi isu eni ba tu, nse ni a a f' owo bo o je" (After
cooking a good yam, one must cover one's mouth while eating it). In other words, to avoid the
jealousy of the have-nots, one must not parade one's good fortune in public. See J. O. Ajibola,
Owe Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford University Press, 1979), 63.
(48.) In the past, physiognomy was considered an important aspect of portraiture in the West. For
a review of the literature, see Hans P. L'Orange, Apotheosis in Ancient Portraiture (1947; reprint,
New Rochelle, N.Y.: Caratzas Brothers, 1982); Flavio Caroli, Storia della Fisiognomica: Arte e
psicologia da Leornado a Freud (Milan: Leonardo, 1995); Christopher Rivers, Face Value:
Physiognomical Thought and the Legible Body in Marivaux, Lavater, Balzac, Gauthier, and Zola
(Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994); Fredrika Jacobs, Defining the Renaissance
Virtuosa: Women Artists and the Language of Art History and Criticism (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 1997); Jennifer Montagu, The Expression of the Passions: The Origin and
Influence of Charles Le Brun's "Conference sun l'expression generale et particuliere" (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1994); Ernst H. Gombrich, "The Mask and the Face: The
Perception of Physiognomic Likeness in Life and Art," in Art, Perception and Reality, ed. Ernst H.
Gombrich, Julian Hochberg, and Max Black (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1972),
1-46; and Joanna Woodall, ed., Portraiture: Facing the Subject (Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 1997).

46

See also Daniel P. Biebuyck, ed., Tradition and Creativity in Tribal Art (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1969); and Robert F. Thompson, African Art in Motion (Los Angeles: University
of California Press, 1974).
(49.) A second-burial figure is called ako if it represents a deceased chief or community leader and
ipade if it represents a deceased hunter. However, the ipade may also represent those who are not
hunters, including women. See P. O. Ogunbowale, Asa Ibile Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford
University Press, 1966), 60-61.
(50.) The following song sung during an ako display in Owo is also significant: "May I be
privileged to bury my father / May I be privileged to bury my father / Despite all evil machinations
/ Despite all evil farces / I will carry my father through the path of honour...." See Abiodun, 10-11.
Note the oriki for deceased twins cited below at n. 105.
(51.) For more information on second-burial images, see Justine Cordwell, "Naturalism and
Stylization in Yoruba Art," Magazine of Art 46 (1953): 220-25; Willett, 1966, 34-45; Abiodun, 420; Babatunde Lawal, "The Living Dead: Art and Immortality among the Yoruba," Africa, Journal
of the International African Institute 47, no. 1 (1977): 50-61; and Robin Poynor, "Ako Figures of
Owo and Second Burials in Southern Nigeria," African Arts 21, no. 1 (1988): 62-63, 81-83, 8687.
(52.) Abiodun, 14-15. In other cases, the child, clad in the best dress of the deceased (regardless
of whether the dress is Oversize), is led around the town, functioning like a living effigy. If the
deceased was a chief, the human surrogate would be greeted, addressed, and paid the same
respects as one. However, the human surrogate is not buried like an effigy. See Lawal (as in n.
51), 52.
(53.) Abiodun, 11 (trans.). Yoruba text: "Oronaye o / Wa na ire / Wa a bero toli o / Oluda
iramen.... / Agada mimi ye rekun eje / Urogho ola / Ba mi le esule o / Oma owootoon woosin
ogho / Urogho ola, ha mi le esule o."
47

(54.) Yoruba text: "Maj'okunrun / Maj'ekolo / Ohun ti won nje l'ajule orun / Ni ki o ba won je / O
di gbere / O di arinako / O di oju ala / Ki a to rira." "For variants of this dirge, see Bade Ajuwon,
Funeral Dirges of Yoruba Hunters (New York: Nok, 1982), 66-67; and Babatunde Olatunji, Asa
Isinku ati Ogun Jije," in Iwe Asa Ibile Yoruba, ed. Oludare Olajubu (Ikeja, Nigeria: Longman,
1978), 77-78.
(55.) To the Yoruba, the souls of those who died prematurely do not go directly to the Afterlife
(Ehin-Iwa). Such souls may relocate in foreign lands, reincarnate in bodies identical to those
interred, and continue to live like normal human beings. Some reincarnated souls (akudaaya) may
even remarry and have children. For details, see William Bascom, "The Yoruba Concept of the
Soul," in Men end Cultures, ed. A.F.C. Wallace (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1960),
401-10.

(56.) For more information on second-burial images, see Cordwell (as in n. 51), 220-25; Willett,
1966, 34-45; Abiodun, 4-20; Lawal (as in n. 51), 50-61; and Poynor (as in n. 51).
(57.) Willett, 1966, 37. See also Abiodun, 14-15.
(58.) Frank Willet, "A Further Shrine for a Hunter," Man 65 (1965): 66.
(59.) For an illustration, see Ajuwon (as in n. 54), 132, 133.
(60.) These face marks identify an individual with a particular family or lineage. For illustrations,
see Lawal (as in n. 51), pl. 1. Two different views of the image are illustrated in this article.
(61.) See, for example, Cordwell (as in n. 51), 220-25; Willett, 1967, 26-27; and Eyo and Willett,
34. The German anthropologist Leo Frobenius was the first to bring the Ife heads to the attention
of Western scholars in the early years of the 20th century. See Frobenius, The Voice of Africa
(1913; reprint, New York: Benjamin Bloom, 1968).
48

(62.) Cordwell (as in n. 51), 224; Willett, 1967, 23, 26-27; and Eyo and Willett, 34.
(63.) See, for example, Rowland Abiodun, review of African Art and Leadership, ed. Douglas
Fraser and Herbert M. Cole, Odd, n.s., 10 (1974): 138; and Henry J. Drewal, "Ife: Origins of Art
and Civilization," in Drewal et al., 66-67.
(64.) Drewal (as in n. 63), 66-67.
(65.) Akinjogbin, "Ife: The Years of Travail, 1793-1893," in Akinjogbin, 148-49.
(66.) Ironically, even though abobaku is a commonly used term, it is forbidden to say openly that
a king (oba) has died (ku). Rather, one must use the euphemism obawaja, meaning "the king has
ascended the roof" to join his ancestors.
(67.) See Idowu, 224-25. According to the legend, the next king was so angry with the plotters
that he ordered their execution, including all the court artists involved. See also Willett, 1967,
150.
(68.) The fact that the crowns worn by some of the Ife brass and terra-cotta heads do not appear
to have a beaded veil (Fig. 1) may indicate that between the 12th and 15th centuries, ancient Ife
kings did not cover their face when appearing in public. If so, it would he unnecessary to conceal
the face of their second-burial figures. However, the absence of a veil on the crown worn by this
figure cannot be taken as incontrovertible evidence that the kings of the time appeared in public
without veils. From the dress of the figure, it is evident that beaded ornaments formed an
important part of the royal regalia at this time. Indeed, the Are crown, said to predate the arrival
of Oduduwa in Ife, had a veil, though it is uncertain whether it was made of heads (see Adediran
[as in n. 8], 84-86; an Are crown is illustrated in Omotoso Eluyemi, Oba Adesoji Aderemi: 50
Years in the History of Ile-Ife [Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Ogunbiyi Printing Press, 1980], pl. 25). The
Oduduwa dynasty is credited with introducing the bead-em broidered crown with veil and bird
motifs to the Yoruba. But according to Olomola (as in n, 12), 56-57, the Oduduwa dynasty would
49

seem to have simply used a preexisting design as a model for its beaded crown. The question then
arises: Is the absence of a beaded veil on the crown worn by many of the Ife (post-Oduduwa) king
figures due to the technical problems of modeling the veil in clay and casting it in brass?
Alternatively, the type of crown worn by a good majority of the Ife figures may very well belong
to the category of coronets called orikogbofo (casual headgear) worn by the king within the
palace, when his face was uncovered.
(69.) Bode Osanyin, "A Cross-road of History, Legend and Myth: The Case of the Origin of
Adamuorisa," in "The Masquerade in Nigerian History and Culture: Proceedings of a Workshop,
September 7-14, 1980," ed. Nwanna Nzewunwa (School of Humanities, University of
Portharcourt, Portharcourt, Nigeria, 1982, mimeographed), 411-14. One legend traces its origin
to the 17th century during the reign of Oba (king) Addo, while another claims that it began in the
18th century when Oba Ologun Kutere was on the throne.
(70.) Ibid., 432-33.
(71.) Ibid., 410; and Michael J.G. Echeruo, Victorian Lagos: Aspects of Nineteenth Century
Lagos Life (London: Macmillan, 1977), 69-70.
(72.) As Olumide Lucas (as in n. 8), 145, has observed, "Even the Oba [the reigning king] ... may
himself be an Eyo [masquerade] on that day." Since the 1940s, the function of the Adamuorisa
festival has been expanded. Whereas in the past it was staged to honor only kings, chiefs, and
members of the royal family, today it may also be staged to honor distinguished citizens of Lagos
and to mark important events. See Osanyin (as in n. 69), 433.
(73.) Jacob Egharevba, A Short History of Benin (Ibadan, Nigeria: University of Ibadan Press,
1960), 12. According to Egharevba, this tradition stopped when Oba Oguola (who reigned in the
13th-14th century) requested the king of Ife to send a brass caster to teach Benin artists how to
cast in metal. An Ife brass caster called Iguehae was later sent to Benin City. See also Willett,
50

1967, 132; and Paula G. Ben-Amos, The Art of Benin, rev. ed. (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1995), 20-25.
(74.) Nathaniel A. Fadipe, The Sociology of the Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Ibadan University Press,
1970), 206.
(75.) Ibid., 207.
(76.) For a review of the Ife king list, see Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 96-121.
(77.) Adediran (as in n. 8), 90; and Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 96-97.
(78.) Adediran (as in n. 8), 91; and Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 96-97. Alaafin (owner of the palace),
the Oyo title for the king, evidently derives from olofin, which is said to have been first used by
Oduduwa.
(79.) Adediran (as in n. 8), 91-93. Until recently, some scholars had assumed that it was Obalufon
who led the Igbo raids on Ife because he had been deposed by Oranmiyan (see, for instance,
Adedeji [as in n. 11], 326-27, quoting J. O. Abiri; and Blier, 388-89, quoting Adedeji). But, as
Adediran (ibid.) and Fabunmi, 17, have pointed Out, the defeat of the Igbo occurred during the
second reign of Obalufon (Alayemoore), when the Ife heroine Moremi allowed herself to he
captured by the Igbo. She later married the Igbo king, acquired knowledge of the Igbo war
strategies, and then escaped. She returned to Ife and revealed these strategies to Obalufon, and
the Igbo were routed when next they raided Ife. See also Duro Ladipo, Moremi (Lagos:
Macmillan, 1971).
(80.) For a comprehensive review of Ife art and culture, see Willett, 1967.
(81.) Fabunmi, 10-11. See also Adediran (as in n. 8), 90-91; and Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 98-99,
105.
51

(82.) See Blier, 385-90. According to Frank Willett, 1967 (150), the Obalufon mask might have
been worn by somebody masquerading as the king, possibly playing the role of Obalufon at
certain ceremonies.
(83.) Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 99.
(84.) Willett, 1967, 57, 150; and Sir Adesoji Aderemi, "Notes on the City of Ife," Nigeria
Magazine 12 (1937): 3-6.
(85.) Johnson (as in n. 5), 3-8; and Saburi O. Biobaku, The Orgin of the Yoruba, Humanities
Monograph Series, no. 1 (Lagos: University of Lagos, 1971), 8-13.
(86.) See Johnson (as in n. 5), 59.

(87.) Akinjogbin (as in n. 10), 104. According to some accounts, Debooye later succeeded her
father, although others claim that she became king not immediately, hut several years later. Only a
few female kings are mentioned in the Ife king list, the most famous being Luwo.
(88.) At Old Oyo, there was a custom of commissioning a carved, though sylized, portrait of a
new king to serve as his surrogate at certain public and private ceremonies. The tradition has
survived at present-day Oyo, (see below at n. 161 and Fig. 26). Elsewhere in Africa, among the
Kuba of Zaire, it was the practice in the past to make a stylized portrait (ndop) of a new king at
the beginning of his reign, which then served as his surrogate on certain occasions. This portrait
was also involved in the ritual transfer of royal power from a deceased king to his successor. See
Jan Vansina, "Ndop: Royal Statues among the Kuba," in African Art and Leadership, ed. Douglas
Fraser and Herbert M. Cole (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1972), 41-55; and
Monni Adams, "18th Century Kuba King Figures," African Arts 21, no. 3 (1988): 32-38, 88.

52

(89.) See Willett, 1967, 28-30; and idem, "Stylistic Analysis and the Identification of Artists'
Workshops in Ancient Ife," in Abiodun et al., 49-57. Because of the heads' formal and stylistic
similarities, Kenneth Murray ("Ancient Ife: Letter to the Editor," Odu 9 [1963]: 71-80) has
suggested that a good majority might have been made by one or two artists within a short period.
Agreeing with Murray, Blier, 395-99, is of the opinion that, given the fact that most of the heads
resemble the Oba1ufon mask (Fig. 14). they may very well be associated with that famous ruler.
(90.) The leading Yoruba historian Isaac Adeagbo Akinjogbin refers to the Omo Oduduwa
concept as the "Ebi Commonwealth"; that is, an "extended family." See Isaac A. Akinjogbin,
Dahomey and Its Neighbours, 1708-1818 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 14-17.
Some of the Ife heads have striations and raised weals on the face, but we are not sure at the
moment that such facial markings refer to particular individuals. Since people with similar facial
markings are to be found in the northwestern and northeastern parts of Nigeria, hundreds of miles
away from Ife, is it possible that such heads refer to outsiders? It is significant, however, that
some Yoruba oral traditions identify Oduduwa as coming from the northeastern part of presentday Nigeria.
(91.) Jean Borgatti. "Portraiture in Africa," African Arts 23, no. 3 (1990): 35-36; see also Borgatti
and Richard Brilliant. Likeness and Beyond: Portraits from Africa and the World (New York:
Center for African Art. 1990).
(92.) For illustrations, see Willett, 1967, colorpls. v, vl, pl. 62.
(93.) See Peter S. Garlake, "Excavations at Obalara's Land, Ife: An Interim Report," West African
Journal of Archaeology 6 (1974): 111--48; and Eyo and Willett, fig. 30.
(94.) Garlake (as in n. 93), 1.16. For other representations of diseased persons in Ife art, see
Willett, 1967, 63, p1. 40, figs. 7, 8.
(95.) Garlake (as in n. 93).
53

(96.) Omotoso Eluyemi, "New Terracotta Finds at Oke-Eso, Ife," African Arts 9, no. 1 (1975):
34. See also Willett, 1967, 68.
(97.) According to Rowland Abiodun, the heads represented in this basket may be those of
"strangers," since it was forbidden in ancient times to sacrifice an Owo indigene in local shrines.
See Rowland Abiodun, "The Kingdom of Owo, in Drewal et al., 101.
(98.) For details. see Bahatunde Lawal, "From Africa to the New World: Art in Yoruba Religion,"
in Santeria Aesthetics in Contemporary Latin American Art, ed. Arturo Lindsay (Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. 1996), 3-37.
(99.) Richard Law. The Oyo Empire, c. 1600-c. 1836: A West African Imperialism us tile Era of
tile Atlantic Slave Trade (Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1977), 32-33.
(100.) Beier, 31. Indeed, the frequency of the equestrian warrior motif in Sango's oriki reflects the
critical role played by the cavalry in the heydays of the Old Oyo empire, between the 17th and
19th centuries, when its kings (alaafin) controlled a good part of northern and southwestern
Yorubaland. We are also reminded of the importance attached to Sango's apotheosis during the
period when his veneration as an ancestor was elevated to a state religion (transforming him into a
deity [orisa] and many Sango priests served as tax collectors or resident governors in tributary
kingdoms. For more details, see Law (as in n. 99), 104' and Morton-Williams (as in n. 18).
(101.) W.J.T. Mitchell, Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1994), 88-89. He defines "imagetext" as a work that combines image
and text.
(102.) Philip Wheelwright. Metaphor and Reality (Bloomington. Ind.; Indiana University Press,
1968). 94-95,
54

(103.) Robert F. Thompson, "Sons of Thunder, Twin Images of the Yoruba." African Arts 7, no, 3
(1971): 8-9.
(104.) For more on Yoruba twin memorials, see ibid., 8-13. 77-80; Houlberg (as in n. 41), 20-27,
91-92; Mareidi Stall, Gert Stoll, and Ulrich Klever, Ibeji: Zwillingsfiguren der Yoruba/Twin
Figures of the Yoruba (Munich: By the authors. 1980); and Babatunde Lawal, "A Pair of Ere Ibeji
(Twin Statuettes) in the Kresge Art Museum," Kresge Museum Art Bulletin 41, no. 1(1989): 91103.
(105.) According to one Yoruba legend, twins were first born in Yorubaland at Isokun village in
Old Oyo.
(106.) The Yoruba associate twins with time. colobus monkey because this animal often gives
birth to two babies at a time,
(107.) Tradition requires mothers of twins to dance frequently in public in honor of their living
children or to appease the souls of deceased twins. On suds occasions, they are showered with
gifts of all kinds by relatives and onlookers to enable them to meet the expenses of taking care of
themselves and the children.
(108.) O. Daramola and A. Jeje, Awon Asa ati Orisa Ile Yoruba (Ibadan. Nigeria: Onibon-Oje
Book Industries, 1967), 282-83.
(109.) According to the myth. the Supreme Being withdrew this privilege, replacing it with death.
(110.) See also Idowu. 13. There is a tendency among the Yoruba to regard as embodiments of
ancient ancestors sculptures accidentally washed out of the ground by floods or recovered its the
course of laying building foundations. Such sculputures are usually placed on altars with a view to
harnessing the spiritual power of the souls they represent. The town of Esie, about ninety miles
from Ife, has more than eight hundred such stone figures. The present inhabitants of the town
55

claim that their ancestors found the sculptures in the town when they first settled there in the 18th
century, so these figures are venerated as petrified aborigines. For more details, see Allison (as in
n. 36), 21-24; and Phillips Stevens, The Stone Images of Este, Nigeria (New York: Africana.
1978).
(111.) J. A. Ademakinwa, Ife: Time Cradle of the Yoruba (Lagos: Pacific Printing Works, 1953),
40-41.
(112.) Idowu, 22; and Fabunmi, fig. 2.
(113.) Adegboyega Sobande, "Isinku ni Ile Yoruba," Olokun, no.9 (1970): 26.
(114.) Cited in Thompson (as in n. 40), 58. Thompson's interviews with several indigenous Yoruba
carvers and critics reveal that one of the most important criteria for an ideal sculpture among the
Yoruba is that it should represent the subject in the prime of life (see esp. 56-58). I have
documented similar comments from carvers in Osi Ekiti, Oyo, and Ayetoro in northeastern,
northcentral, and southwestern Yorubaland respectively. Frank Willett (1966, 37) has also
observed that an ako second-burial effigy of the late mother of Chief Sasere Adetula of Owo
(carved in 1943 by Ogunleye Ologan) "represents her as a yotmng woman...." The fact that this
phenomenon is evident in both naturalistic and stylized portraits shows that it is deeply rooted in
indigenous Yoruba aesthetics and cannot be explained solely by the practice of modeling the face
of a second-burial effigy after that of a child who closely resembles the deceased. A similar
tradition has been recorded in Benin City. According to a legend, King Ewuare of the 15th century
once commissioned the royal brass caster and woodcarver guilds to make his portrait. The
woodcarvers portrayed him as he really looked in old age, whereas the brass casters depicted him
as a much younger man. King Ewuare was displeased with the woodcarvers and demoted them.
See Borgatti and Brilliant (as in n. 91), 32, quoting Ben-Amos (as in n. 73). For a discussion of
the concept in other parts of Africa, see Thompson (as in n. 48), 5-7. It should be noted, however,
that not all Yoruba representations emphasize the prime of life. In the edan ogboni, a pair of male
56

and female brass figures that serves as an emblem of the Ogboni society, the stress is on maturity.
It signifies the desire of members for long life and prosperity. See Lawal (as in n. 18), 37-38.
(115.) For more on Yoruba twin memorials, see n. 104 above.
(116.) Abiodun, 8.
(117.) See Lawal, 1974, 245.
(118.) Illustrated in Lawal, 1996, 236-37.
(119.) For more on Yoruba masks, see Drewal et al., passim.
(120.) Frank Willett, African Art, rev. ed. (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1993). 212-13.
(121.) For more on Yoruba crowns, see Robert F. Thompson, "The Sign of the Divine King:
Yoruba Beaded-Embroidered Crowns with Veil and Bird Decorations," in Fraser and Cole (as in
n. 88), 227-60; and Ulli Beier, Yoruba Beaded Crowns: Sacred Regalia of the Olokuku of Okuku
(London: Ethnographica, 1982).

(122.) Cited in Akinsola Akiwowo, Ajobi and Ajogbe; Variations on the Theme of Sociation (IleIfe, Nigeria: University of Ife Press, 1983), 11. See also Lawal (as in n. 104), 23-24.
(123.) See, for instance, Idowu, 84-85.
(124.) Polished stone axes and iron tools are sacred to Ogun, suggesting that the one preceded
the other in his iconography.

57

(125.) E. M. Lijadu, Ifa: Imole re ti ise Ipile Isin ni lle Yoruba (Ado Ekiti, Nigeria: Standard Press,
1908), 35. Yoruba text: "Nje bi a ba te mi, ngo tun ra mi te / Eewo ti a ba ka fun mi, ngo gbo /
Tite la te mi, ngo tun 'ra mi te,"
(126.) Idowu, 60; and Wole Soyinka, Myth. Literature and the African World (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1976), 10.
(127.) For details, see Karin Barber, "How Man Makes God in West Africa: Yoruba Attitudes
towards the Orisa," Africa, journal oft/me International African Instittute 51, no. 3 (1981): 72445.
(128.) The Omo Oduduwa doctrine assumed a new aspect in 1945 when Yoruba students in
London formed the Egbe Omo Oduduwa (Oduduwa Descendants Club), a cultural organization
charged with the responsibility of advancing the cause of the Yoruba in colonial Nigerian politics.
The organization eventually developed into a political party (the now defunct Action Group)
whose membership included non-Yoruba politicians. The leader of the party, Chief Obafemi
Awolowo, was fond of wearing a special hat that soon became fashionable among his followers,
enabling them to project a common identity at party rallies and conventions. See Arifalo (as in n.
12), 72.
(129.) Jacques Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-Analysis. ed. Jacques-Alain
Miller, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: W. W. Norton, 1981).
(130.) Ibid., 67-119. For a recent review of the literature on the gaze, see Margaret Olin, "Gaze,"
in Critical Terms far Art History, ed. Robert F. Nelson and Richard Shiff (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1996), 208-19.
(131.) The word iran (spectacle) should not be confused with iran (generation) or iran (the tail of
a tortoise), even though the three words have the same pronunciation.
58

(132.) Lawal (as in n. 118), 39. Yoruba text: "O nwo mi, mo nwo o,/ Tani seun ninu ara wa."
(133.) See Idowu, 205; and Olatunji (as in n. 54), 79. Fairly naturalistic memorials also occur on
the superstructures of Gelede headdresses during a special farewell ceremony intended to
terminate the participation of a deceased member in the annual festivals.
(134.) See Abiodun (as in n. 97), pl. 103.
(135.) Having grown up in, and traveled throughout, Yorubaland, I have witnessed several
second-burial ceremonies involving naturalistic memorials such as ako, ipade, ajeje, and related
forms, like the Eyo Adamuorisa (Eyo) effigy of Lagos. Igbogbo, and Ijebu, Unfortunately, most of
these opportunities predated my research interest in the subject. More recently, I encountered
other ceremonies while on social visits to some towns but had no camera on me to record them.
(136.) However, the Yoruba believe that the soul of a deceased parent can be reincarnated as a
grandchild and begin a new life on earth. Lawal (as in n. 51), 50-61.
(137.) For illustrations, see Ulli Beier, A Story of Sacred Wood Carvings from One Small Yoruba
Town (Lagos: Nigerian Printing and Publishing Company, 1957).
(138.) See Bice Benvenuto and Roger Kennedy, The Works of Jacques Lacan: An Introduction
(London: Free Association Books, 1986), 55-58.
(139.) The inward look on the face of certain altar sculptures has led some scholars to compare it
to the countenance of devotees possessed by a deity.
(140.) I am grateful to Chief Ifayemi Eleburuibon, a famous Osogho-based Yoruba diviner, for
drawing my attention to this saying taken from the divination versa (Idikan), in an interview on
July 6, 1998.
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(141.) For Yoruba chants meant to attract positive gazes, see David A.A. Adeniji, Ofo Rere
(Ibadan, Nigeria: University of Ibadan Press, 1982).
(142.) Adeboye Babalola, "Ounje Oju," Olokun 9 (1970): 39: "Ki l'a npe l'onje oju? / Ki l'o nyo
oju bi oka ti nyo ikun? / Oju ko l'onje meji bikose iran.... / Meji pataki n'irufe re / Idan, orisi iran ni
/ Ewa, orisi iran nu l'eyi / Oju ki irewa k'o maa ki i / Enia ki iko adarabiegbin k'oma wo o.... /
"Eegun npidan l'oja, je a lo wo o." / Onje oju la fe fi fun un...."
(143.) For details, see Lawal (as in n. 118), 39 n. 3, 128-29.
(144.) The word gbajumo can be etymologized as igba (two hundred), oju (faces or eyes), and mo
(know).
(145.) Abraham (as in n. 3), 667.
(146.) See William Bascom, The Yoruba of Southwestern Nigeria (New York: Holt and Winston,
1969), 111.
(147.) Idowu, 77 (trans.). Yoruba text: "ifa te ju mo mi ki o wo mi 're / Bi o ba te 'ju mo 'ni la
l'owo l'lowo / Bi o ba te ju mo 'ni la ri're."
(148.) In her review of the literature on the subject, Margaret Olin (as in n. 130), 209, notes,
"There is usually something negative about the gaze as used in art theory." This may partly be due
to an emphasis on the "evil eye" in Judeo-Christian thought. According to Jacques Lacan (as in n.
129), 115, whose theory is a major influence on contemporary hermeneutics of the gaze, "there is
no trace anywhere of a good eye." In his words (118-19), "The eye may be prophylactic, it cannot
be beneficent--it is maleficent. In the Bible and even in the New Testament, there is no good eye,
but there are evil eyes all over the place." The existence among the Yoruba of the notion of a good
eye (oju rere or oju aanu) contradicts this assumption and calls for a more open-minded approach
to the subject. For a critique of the paranoid implications of the Lacanian theory of the gaze, see
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Norman Bryson, "The Gaze in the Expanded Field," in Vision and Visuality: Discussions in
Contemporary Culture, ed. Hal Foster (Seattle: Bay Press, 1988), 104-8.
(149.) As a result, flattery, drumming, dancing, and commemorative displays are often employed
to influence the deities in Yoruba religion, as Andrew Apter has rightly observed. See his Black
Critics and Kings: The Hermeneutics of Power in Yoruba Society (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1992), 99. For other implications of the face in Yaruba art, see Lawal (as in n. 28), 91-103.
(150.) Wande Abimbola, Sixteen Great Poems of Ifa (Zaria, Nigeria: UNESCO, 1975), 233. That
the other orisa (deities) depend on Esu for vision is most evident in the iconography of Ifa, the
divination deity. Most divination trays (opon Ifa) have at least one stylized face said to represent
Esu, enabling Ifa to reveal the past and foretell the future. See also Bascom (as in n. 33), 34; and
Hans Witte, "Ifa Trays from Osogbo and Ijebu Regions," in Abiodun et al., 58-77.

(151.) Abraham (as in n. 3), 667.

(152.) For a survey, see Mary H. Nooter, ad., Secrecy: African Art That Conceals and Reveals
(New York: Museum of African Art; Munich: Prestel, 1993).
(153.) Susan Vogel, Baule: African Art/Western Eyes (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997),
110.
(154.) According to popular belief, shortly after its abandonment at the crossroads, a secondburial effigy would momentarily be animated by the ghost of the deceased and its eyes would be
filled with tears as the mourners return home. If the effigy is buried, the ghost would stand on the
spot, sadly staring at the mourners. Tradition enjoins the mourners not to look back after
disposing of the effigy; whoever does so runs the risk of seeing the tearful face of the figure or the
ghost and would subsequently die if certain propitiatory rites were not performed.
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(155.) Stevens (as in n. 9), 194.

(156.) Oludare Olajubu and J.R.O. Ojo, "Some Aspects of Oyo Yoruba Masquerades," Africa,
Journal of the International African Institute 47, no. 3 (1977): 269.
(157.) The term Orombo alludes to the unseeable.
(158.) Solomon O. Babayemi, Egungun among the Oyo Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Board
Publications, 1980), 8-9 (trans.). Yoruba text: "Ma foju kan mi / Enikan ko gbodo foju kan
Orombo / Nijo Agan ba jade osan / Igi a ma wo lu igi, ope a ma wolu ope / Igbo a ma jona
tagbatagba / Odan a si jona teruwa teruwa / A difa fun Mafojukanmi / Ti i je Agan." Solomon
Babayemi translates the name Mafojukanmi figuratively as "You must not see my face," which is
correct. But I prefer the literal translation of the name, which is "Do not set your eyes on me."
(159.) Peter Morton-Williams, "The Egungun Society in South-Western Yoruba Kingdoms," in
Proceedings of the Third Annual Conference of the West African Institute of Social and Economic
Research (Ibadan, Nigeria: WAISER, 1956), 95. I had a similar experience as a child growing up
in Yorubaland. In some towns, the sound of bull roarers (oro) would fill the air as the procession
moved from one ward to another, as if deliberately intended to awake the uninitiated, stressing the
fact of their exclusion. In some cases, a sacred image may be brought out in daylight but
concealed. Among the Ijebu subgroup, women are not allowed to see the charm of the Agemo
masks, even in a concealed form, because of its use to reinforce the patriarchal social system.
Women are therefore warned in advance to stay indoors: "Orisa is treading the highways / Lord of
Life / Who dares behold him? / Who dares scan the features of the god! / A chance glance, a
chance death! / Swellings on your body like ripe corn! / Glimmering shadow! / A s urreptitious
glance, a surreptitious death." See John Pemberton, "The King and the Chameleon: Odun
Agemo," Ife: Annals of the Institute of Cultural Studies (Obafemi Awolowo University, Ife) 2
(1988): 52. In other cases, a sacred image may be seen by the general public but not at close
range. A good example is the headdress of the Iya mask, which represents the Great Mother
among the Ketu and Egbado subgroups. The mask usually comes out at night during the annual
62

Gelede festival that is held in her honor. When the mask appears in the dance arena, all lights must
be extinguished. For details, see Henry J. Drewal, "Art and the Perception of Women in Yoruba
Culture," Cahiers d'Etudes Africaines 17, no. 4 (1977): 553.
(160.) Similar traditions of concealment have been observed in other parts of Africa and are
exemplified by the so-called acoustic masks, which appear only at night, using sound rather than
visibility to indicate their supernatural power. For details, see Rosalind I.J. Hackett, Art and
Religion in Africa (New York: Cassell, 1996), 55-56; and Edward Lifschitz, "Hearing Is Believing:
Acoustic Aspects of Masking in Africa," in West African Masks and Cultural Systems, ed. Sidney
L. Kasfir (Trevuren: Musee Royale de l'Afrique Centrale, 1988), 221-27.
(161.) Since such an image is made at the beginning of an alaafin's reign, one can only wonder
whether or not a similar tradition obtained in ancient Ife with which the life-size brass heads may
be associated, one way or the other.
(162.) Sometimes, a framed photograph of the deceased may be carried in a public parade before
the corpse is interred; in other cases, photographs are carried in a public procession during annual
memorial celebrations. For illustrations, see Margaret T. Drewal, Yaruba Ritual.' Performers, Play,
Agency (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1994), fig. 3.4. For Western influences on
contemporary Yoruba portraiture, see idem, "Portraiture and the Construction of Reality in
Yorubaland and Beyond," African Arts 23, no. 3 (1990): 40-49, 101. See also Stephen F. Sprague,
"Yoruba Photography: How the Yoruba See Themselves," African Arts 12, no. 1 (1978): 52-59,
107.
(163.) See Drewal, 1990 (as in n. 162), 40-49.
(164.) Sprague (as in n. 162), 57.
(165.) Ibid. See also Houlberg (as in n. 41), 26-27; and idem, "Collecting the Anthropology of
African Art," African Arts 9, no.3 (1976): 18-19; Susan Vogel, ed., Africa Explores: 20th Century
63

African Art (New York: Center for African Art; Munich: Prestel, 1991), 44-47; and Olu Oguibe,
"Photography and the Substance of the Image," in In/Sight: African Photographers, 1940 to the
Present (New York: Guggenheim Museum, 1996), 243-46.
(166.) Houlberg (as in n. 165), 18.
Frequently Cited Sources
Abiodun, Rowland, "A Reconsideration of the Function of Ako, Second Burial Effigy of Owo,"
Africa, journal of the International African Institute 46, no. 1 (1976): 4-20.
Abiodun, Rowland, Henry J. Drewal, and John Pemberton III, eds., The Yoruba Artist: New
Theoretical Perspectives on African Arts (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994).
Akinjogbin, Isaac A., ed. The Cradle of a Race: Ife from the Beginning to 1980 (Portharcourt,
Nigeria: Sunray, 1992).
Beier, Ulli, Yoruba Poetry: An Anthology of Traditional Poems (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1970).
Blier, Suzanne, "Kings, Crowns, and Rights of Succession: Obalufon Arts at Ife and Other Yoruba
Centers," Art Bulletin 67 (1985): 383-401.
Drewal, Henry J., and John Pemberton with Rowland Abiodun, Yoruba: Nine Centuries of African
Art and Thought (New York: Center for African Art, 1989).
Eyo Ekpo and Frank Willett, Treasures of Ancient Nigeria (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980).
Fabunmi, Michael A., Ife Shrines (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: University of Ife Press, 1969).
64

Idowu, E. Bolaji, Olodumare: God in Yoruba Belief, rev. ed. (New York: Original Publications,
1995).
Lawal, Babatunde, 1974, "Some Aspects of Yoruba Aesthetics," British Journal of Aesthetics 14,
no. 3: 239-49.
-----, 1996, The Gelede Spectacle: Art, Gender, and Social Harmony in an African Culture
(Seattle: University of Washington Press).
Willett, Frank, 1966, "On the Funeral Effigies of Owo and Benin, and the Interpretation of the
Life-Size Bronze Heads from Ife," Man, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, n.s., 1:
34-45.
-----, 1967, Ife in the History of West African Sculpture (New York: McGrawHill).
Babatunde Lawal is professor of art history, Virginia Commonwealth University. He has published
extensively on traditional and contemporary African art, most recently The Gelede Spectacle: Art,
Gender, and Social Harmony in an African Culture (1996). A new book, Sango: Art, Spirit
Mediumship, and Thunder Power in Yoruba Culture, is nearing completion [Department of Art
History, School of the Arts, Virginia Commonwealth University, P0 Box 843046, Richmond, Va.
23284-3046, blawal@titan.vcu.edu].
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