When heritage tells stories of yesterday, today & tomorrow
Reflections on JR center for Yoruba culture in Lagos
Some places don’t just tell a story—they bring it to life. The John Randle Center for Yoruba Culture and History, located in Lagos’ cultural district of Onikan, is one such place. From the moment I stepped through its doors, I was struck by the power of its architecture and immersive design. Created by Nigerian architect Seun Oduwole and his studio, this building is more than a museum—it’s a work of art.
With its metallic facades inspired by Yoruba weaving patterns and geometric motifs reminiscent of traditional textiles, the structure seems to converse with its environment. Its green roof blends seamlessly into the urban landscape, giving the impression that the museum emerges organically from the earth. Inside, the immersive scenography takes visitors on a journey through Yoruba creation myths, characters like Sango and Yemoja, oral traditions, fashion, crafts, music, cinema, activism, and literature. This is not just an exhibition; it’s an experience that fuses past, present, and future using modern technologies like virtual reality.
The site’s history is equally compelling. Originally built in 1928 by philanthropist Dr. John Randle to provide Lagosians with access to a public swimming pool—a need overlooked by British colonial authorities—the space has been reimagined as a vibrant cultural hub. Today, it celebrates not only Yoruba heritage but also African resilience and creativity.
My visit left me deeply moved—not just by the beauty of the space but also by the questions it raises about the place of African art in the renaissance of the continent.
The Fashion section: preserving Yoruba Craftsmanship
At the heart of the John Randle Center lies a fashion section that celebrates Yoruba craftsmanship by inviting contemporary designers to reinterpret ancestral techniques. From Adire (indigo dyeing) to Aso Oke (handwoven royal fabric), glass bead jewelry to macramé accessories, designers like Lisa Folawiyo, Abiola Olusola, Adeju Thompson, Ugo Monye, and Ituen Basi breathe new life into these traditions.
The immersive scenography highlights these artisanal practices through weaving videos, artisan stories, and displayed objects that allow visitors to explore their history and processes. The creations range from Ugo Monye’s majestic reimagining of Agbada robes to Adeju Thompson’s fluid, gender-neutral pieces modernizing Adire techniques. Lisa Folawiyo elevates cotton lace while Abiola Olusola embellishes her silhouettes with intricate bead embroidery—proving that Nigerian fashion can rival international luxury while staying deeply rooted in cultural identity.
By providing a platform for African designers to reinvent these traditions, the JR Center for Yoruba culture demonstrates how fashion can be a powerful tool for preserving heritage. This initiative illustrates how traditions evolve through contemporary creativity while inspiring a new generation of artisans and designers in Nigeria and beyond.
The paradox of capital flows in African Art markets
Walking through the galleries of the John Randle Center, I couldn’t help but think about the many African artworks still far from home. Sculptures, masks, and artifacts—often looted during colonization—now reside in European museums or private collections in London, Paris, or New York. In my podcast ACT, during a conversation with Christophe Person, we discussed this paradox: while African art is gaining increasing recognition on international stages—with record sales at Sotheby’s, Christie’s or Piasa —much of it inevitably leaves Africa.
This phenomenon is driven by imbalanced capital flows. Foreign collectors often have far greater financial resources than their African counterparts. As a result, works that could inspire and educate on the continent end up displayed thousands of miles away from their original context. This economic imbalance not only deprives Africa of its tangible cultural heritage but also limits local institutions ability to grow.
The crucial role of African Collectors
In this context, African collectors have an essential role to play. They are not just buyers; they are custodians of the continent’s cultural heritage. Figures like late Sindika Dokolo or Herbet Wigwe have shown that it is possible to act differently. By repatriating major works to Africa and supporting their exhibition in accessible spaces, these collectors help preserve Africa’s cultural essence while stimulating local markets.
But their mission goes beyond acquisition: they must also support creating infrastructure capable of conserving and showcasing these works. Initiatives like the JR Center prove that it is possible to create spaces where African creativity can be celebrated in all its richness and complexity.
My experience at the John Randle Center also reminded me that this cultural renaissance isn’t limited to museums—it extends to art fairs, cinema, and local initiatives redefining our relationship with heritage.
Benin: A cultural laboratory
Benin exemplifies this dynamic with ambitious projects around its restituted heritage. After recovering 26 royal Dahomey artifacts in 2021, the country launched two major initiatives:
The Museum of the Epic of Amazons and Kings of Dahomey in Abomey (designed by Françoise N’Thépé), set to house these treasures by 2026 within its UNESCO-listed palace grounds.
The Museum of Contemporary Art in Cotonou, envisioned as a hub for West African contemporary art.
These projects demonstrate that it is possible not only to repatriate works but also to give them new life on the continent. As Marie-Cécile Zinsou sums up: “We cannot build a sustainable African art market without strong institutions AND without a generation of collectors ready to invest in them.”
Cinema as a Tool for Reflection
Mati Diop’s Dahomey sensitively explores tensions surrounding Benin’s restituted artifacts. Through poetic narration where statues “speak” in Fon language, the film questions their place in a society rebuilt without them. This dialogue between past and present underscores how these objects are not dead—they can become catalysts for imagining a different future.
Art Fairs: Stimulating Local Collections
Events like ART X Lagos in Nigeria or 1-54 Marrakech in Morocco also play key roles in this cultural renaissance. These fairs are not just commercial showcases; they actively encourage local acquisitions while giving African artists international visibility. In 2024, 40% of buyers at ART X Lagos were Nigerian—a promising sign for developing a robust domestic market. In Abidjan, La Nuit des Galeries, part of Abidjan Art Week, brings together local artists and collectors around a shared vision: democratizing access to art while stimulating local acquisitions. These initiatives show that a sustainable ecosystem is emerging across the continent.
As I left the John Randle Center that day, I passed a group of children with their parents. Their enthusiasm reminded me why all this matters: these works are not just objects; they are mirrors through which our children can see their history, identity, and potential.
The return and preservation of African artworks on the continent are not merely questions of historical justice—they are necessities for inspiring future generations. And it starts with us—collectors, institutions, entrepreneurs—who have the power to change this narrative.
Reflecting on this transformative visit, I wonder: how can we all contribute to ensuring our heritage tells its stories where they began? The future of African art depends as much on physically returning works as on our collective ability to innovate and breathe new life into them—for today and tomorrow.