Each August thousands of devotees gather in Osogbo to honour the Yorùbá goddess of fertility, Oṣun. At the height of the celebration, a procession winds its way through the Nigerian city before arriving at a verdant grove, where white-robed pilgrims cleanse themselves in the deity’s namesake river. Folklore suggests that a group of migrants once encountered Osun in this very place.
They had been driven from their village by drought and famine, and this seemed like a promising spot for settlement. But, as they set about clearing the land, the goddess appeared and instructed them to relocate a short distance away, leaving the grove as her sacred place. In exchange, she promised protection and prosperity, provided the refugees offered an annual sacrifice to her. Legend tells that this rite has continued uninterrupted for centuries ever since, evolving into the Osun Osogbo Festival as we know it today.
A Unesco World Heritage site spanning roughly 75 hectares, the Oṣun Osogbo Sacred Grove is a treasure trove of biodiversity. It harbours upwards of 400 species of plants, with more than 250 known for their healing properties. The river itself, nourished by the roots of these medicinal herbs, is believed to carry potent, curative powers. And alongside nature’s bounty, a proliferation of man-made sculptures honouring various Yorùbá deities can be counted among the grove’s riches too.
The Flying Tortoise Gate – a magnificent concrete arch beckoning visitors into the realm of the òrìṣà (deities) – is one such sculpture. Erected in the early 1960s, it was jointly crafted by Austrian-born artist Susanne Wenger and local sculptor Adebisi Akanji, who were part of the pioneering movement that, over many decades, transformed the grove into a monumental art space.
An early proponent of Surrealism, Wenger and her husband, the critic Ulli Beier, moved from London to Nigeria in 1950. She subsequently resolved to spend the rest of her life there, became an initiated Yorùbá high priestess and adopted the name of Adùnní Olórìṣà. By this point, the grove was in a state of disrepair. Most shrines had been abandoned and one, known as Ayé Dákun Yípadà (World, I beg you to reconsider your ways), was destroyed by religious fanatics. Osun’s high priestess called on Wenger, propelled by her artistic skill and profound faith, to repair the shrines in the late 1950s. So she assembled a group of local artisans expert in various crafts, including bricklaying, textile work, carpentry, wood carving, painting and blacksmithing. Beyond their skills, Wenger intentionally sought craftspeople who had an affinity with the Yorùbá faith or, as she put it herself, an ‘òrişà within them waiting to be aroused’.
‘Mama believed everyone to be an artist,’ says the current chief priestess of Oşun, Adedoyin Faniyi, one of Wenger’s several adopted children – the activist/ artist Nike Davies-Okundaye (Wol Nov 2023) is another. ‘So, she gathered various artisans working in different parts of Osogbo and nurtured their creativity. These people came to be known as the New Sacred Art Movement, some of whom are still alive today.’
The group included dozens of artisans with diverse artistic languages, all of whom were mentored by Wenger. Among the founders were Akanji, her closest associate and artistic leader; Sàngódáre Gbádégesin Ajàlá, a textile artist from a lineage of Sàngó (the god of thunder) priests and another of Wenger’s adoptees; and the carpenter Buraimoh Gbadamosi. Also included were Foyeke Ajoke and Songo Tundun, who specialised in shrine paintings, an art form traditionally associated with women in Yorùbá culture.
Their creations are scattered throughout the grove, greeting visitors with surreal details, Cubist forms, stone finishes and meticulous wood carvings. At the entrance to the Oșun shrine, a gigantic tree stands beside a stone sculpture of Eșù, the divine messenger, created by Gbadamosi. Hiding among the shrubs elsewhere is Obàtálá Greeting Alájere, a looming figure with bulging eyes created by Wenger in the 1970s. Other notable works include Saka Aremu’s statue of the goddess Oşun, considered his masterpiece, and Lasisi Isola’s Igbó Fá entrance gate and walls, which leads to a private area reserved for initiations and rituals. This list is by no means exhaustive; indeed the sheer volume of artworks attests to the dedication and consistency of Wenger and the New Sacred Artists, who worked for more than six decades to develop this holy site.
But their sculptures, initially rendered in concrete-covered clay, were not built to last. Weather and climatic factors caused many to deteriorate, including the Flying Tortoise Gate, which collapsed in the 1990s. In an effort to preserve the sculptures and support ongoing artistic work, the Adunni Olorisha Trust/Foundation was established in 1998, raising significant funds that enabled large-scale restoration efforts in the following decade.
After Wenger’s death in 2009, Ajàlá, Akanji and the surviving New Sacred Artists reassembled to begin restoration works and train the next generation of artists. Among them is Akanji’s son, Adebisi Nurudeen, who in 2014 helped to recreate the Flying Tortoise Gate with his father, relying on photographs and memory. To guarantee its longevity, we used high-quality materials such as strong metal reinforcement rods and netting and then used high-quality coloured cement for its finishing to retain its colour,’ explains Nurudeen, who has led the restoration team since his father’s death in 2023. Our goal was to restore it to its original form as accurately as possible.’
Susanne Wenger’s influence extends far beyond the grove. At the 2024 Venice Biennale exhibition, Foreigners Everywhere, five of her early cassava-starch monochrome batiks, depicting scenes inspired by Yorùbá cosmology, are displayed alongside pieces by Ajàlá. The exhibition’s theme of alienation resonates deeply with the life story of Wenger, an Austrian artist who found home in Nigeria, while Ajalá’s works, which depict the initiations of olóriṣàs (individuals consecrated to Yorùbá deities), echo motifs that can be found within the sacred grove.
This year, like those before it, the holy site filled with drumming and dance as practitioners from around the world joined in celebration. The Arugba, a maiden entrusted with the sacrificial offering, made her way towards the river, while the pious filled jerry cans with healing water for loved ones who couldn’t partake. Presiding over it all were Osun and her concrete custodians. Thanks to the efforts of the New Sacred Restoration Team, their grove will remain a place of pilgrimage for generations to come.
A version of this article also appeared in the November 2024 issue of ‘The World of Interiors’. Learn about our subscription offers. Sign up for our bi-weekly newsletter, and be the first to receive exclusive stories like this one, direct to your inbox
