In a nation where history is too often forgotten in concrete silence, has dedicated his life to sculpting memory into public consciousness. From Ibadan’s warlords to Yoruba ancestral narratives, the artist on our Cover edition this week, speaks with iBAND Magazine about heritage, sacrifice, research, and why monuments must become classrooms for future generations.

Words Ireho Aito | Don’t Keep Your Art in the Finger! Images and Photographs courtesy Wale Asubiojo

Civilisations that survive are not always the strongest. Very often, they are simply the ones that documented themselves better.

The Romans understood this early. Through monuments, arches, busts, mosaics, public commissions, military carvings, manuscripts, and civic sculptures, they preserved the image of their emperors, victories, philosophers, and cities long after the empire itself collapsed. In many ways, Rome outlived Rome because it learned how to narrate itself publicly.

Ancient Egypt mastered the same principle. Today, the pyramids, colossal statues, temple reliefs, burial chambers, obelisks, and hieroglyphics continue to speak across centuries. Egypt remains relevant not only because of its civilisation, but because it monumentalised its civilisation. Its public commissions became a permanent conversation between the dead and the living.

Across Europe, Asia, and the Americas, nations continue to preserve themselves through visual memory. From the marble figures of Florence to the bronze war memorials of London, from the terracotta armies of China to the presidential monuments of Washington, societies understand that public art is not decoration. It is documentation.

And somewhere in Nigeria, in the middle of a society rapidly forgetting its own stories, sculptor Wale Asubiojo has devoted his life to fighting cultural disappearance one monument at a time.

There is a deep seriousness in the way Wale speaks about history. He does not sound like an artist chasing trends. He sounds like a custodian worried about vanishing footprints.

“When I set out to sculpt figures like Oluyole,” he says, “I’m not just carving wood or casting bronze. I’m trying to bring a person back into the room. And you can’t do that if you only know the name.”

This is a country where public monuments often fade into the background of everyday life, Nigerian multidisciplinary sculptor and cultural researcher Wale Asubiojo has chosen a different path that is rooted in memory, heritage, and historical accountability.

From the ancient military histories of Ibadan to children’s cultural education projects, Asubiojo’s artistic journey is driven by one conviction that art must do more than decorate spaces; it must preserve identity.

Born and raised in Ibadan, Wale got trained through years of apprenticeship, self-determination, and formal academic excellence, the sculptor has quietly built a career that merges public art, oral history, environmental consciousness, and cultural activism.

Wale Asubiojo is a graduate of Lagos State Polytechnic, Ikorodu, where he emerged as the best graduating student in Sculpture for his Higher National Diploma (HND), Asubiojo has worked with institutions including the National Museum of Unity, Ibadan, the Lagos State Council for Arts and Culture, and several artistic and educational initiatives across Nigeria.

Beyond sculpture, he has spent decades mentoring children through the Children’s Arts Movement International, now known as Children in African Scenario (CAS) through workshops, symposia, conferences, drawing sessions, indigenous language instruction, and creative mentorship, Asubiojo continues shaping younger generations long before they fully understand the value of what they are inheriting.

Perhaps the most powerful thing about Wale Asubiojo is that he does not separate artistic practice from social responsibility.

In this Cover edition, he speaks about struggle, research, Yoruba history, public monuments, neglected heritage, and why Nigeria must urgently reclaim its cultural memory.

“I Decided To Use Art To Create And Document History”

For many years, Nigerian sculpture has existed between public memory and public neglect. What first drew you into sculpture as a lifelong artistic language, and how did your early background shape the artist you eventually became?
Also, who is Wale Asubiojo beyond the studio?

For many years, I have been exploring ways to positively influence society through my work. Whenever I see sculptures in places I visit, I notice that people connect most with art that tells stories and teaches moral lessons. In Nigeria, however, most public art exists as abstract monumental sculpture that people cannot easily relate to historically.

These observations shaped the way I use art today.

As a child, I discovered that I had the talent to create things from almost anything around me. My father believed I would become a lawyer because of how logically I argued. But after I lost him, life changed completely. I moved from one place to another, staying with different people, while my education became unstable. Still, I believed I had a future.

I worked in hotels and several small jobs before eventually finding employment at Studio 74 Gallery inside Gateway Hotel, Abeokuta. That became a turning point in my life. Architect Akinrinade of Sotan and Sotan Williams Company saw my talent and encouraged me to study art formally.

In 1993, I was introduced to renowned sculptor Saburi Adisa Adebesin, former chairman of the Society of Nigerian Artists, Ogun State Chapter and I trained under him for almost five years alongside other young artists. His discipline, philosophy, and commitment to using art to respond to society deeply influenced me.

After my apprenticeship, I moved to Lagos and survived through construction and decorative art jobs such as POP ceilings, pillars, fountains, wall finishes, while saving money to continue my education.

I later enrolled at Lagos State Polytechnic, Ikorodu, where I studied Art and specialised in Sculpture. And completed my National Diploma in 2009 and Higher National Diploma in 2012, graduating as the best HND student in Sculpture.

Beyond being a sculptor, I see myself as a cultural worker, environmental activist, researcher, mentor, and community builder.

“Research Is Not Separate From My Work, It Is The Work”

Your works often move beyond aesthetics into historical preservation and cultural documentation. At what point did you realise that art, for you, was also a form of historical intervention?

I believe art should do more than beautify the environment. Its aesthetics and historical facts should merge to preserve memory and document the past for generations yet unborn.

For some time now, I noticed that many contemporary artworks are promoted without historical grounding. I wanted to create something similar to what early Christian artists did by using art to preserve stories, values, and teachings for society.

That was when I understood clearly that sculpture could become historical intervention.

As a sculptor, research is not separate from my work. It is the work.

When I create figures like Oluyole, I am not simply modelling clay or carving forms but trying to bring historical personalities back into public consciousness. That means studying oral traditions, palace histories, old photographs, praise poetry, scars, beads, clothing, movement, and even posture.

Without research, you end up creating a generic African figure. With research, you create testimony.

Artists must become cultural historians because many African histories were never fully written in books. They exist in oral memory, shrines, chants, festivals, and family lineages. If artists do not help preserve them visually, much of that history may disappear forever.

 

“Oluyole Represented The Spirit Of Modern Ibadan”

The monument of Iba Oluyole at the National Museum of Unity, Ibadan, is both artistic and deeply symbolic. Why was Oluyole the right figure to begin this public sculpture initiative with?

I became interested in Iba Oluyole because he played a major role in shaping modern Ibadan politically, militarily, socially, and economically.

He began as a blacksmith who specialised in weapons before becoming one of the most respected military leaders in Yoruba history. He distinguished himself during the Owu Wars and later became Bashorun of Ibadan.

Oluyole helped transform Ibadan into a major regional power. He defended the city against external threats and became a symbol of leadership and courage.

But beyond warfare, I was also interested in his reforms and governance philosophy. He opposed the Oyo tradition of killing the Aremo, the crown prince, which reflected Ibadan’s pragmatic political culture.

To understand Oluyole properly, you must also understand Lagelu, the original founder and generalissimo linked to the earliest Ibadan settlements. My research into both figures helped me see Ibadan not just as a city, but as a historical civilisation built through migration, warfare, spirituality, and resilience.

“I Did Not Do It For Personal Gain”

You personally financed much of the Oluyole project while waiving professional fees. Why was that sacrifice important to you?

I have always looked for opportunities to give back to society.

When I visited the National Museum of Unity at Ibadan, I noticed there was no major sculptural monument representing the institution’s identity. I simply volunteered to donate one, not just for aesthetics, but for education and historical preservation.

The resources available for the project were far below what was required, but I decided to continue anyway. Whenever I earned money from other jobs, I used part of it to support the monument project.

I did not do it for personal gain. I did it to show that society can still be served through sacrifice.

I belong to Yoruba society, and I believe my culture needs me.

“Direct Modelling Is Difficult, But It Gives Me Freedom”

Your process of direct concrete modelling is physically demanding and technically uncommon today. Why do you remain committed to it?

Direct modelling is in my blood.

It is one of the most affordable methods, especially when resources are limited, though it is extremely demanding physically. I enjoy the process because it allows me to engage every detail directly using additive and subtractive techniques.

Many artists prefer casting because it offers more flexibility with clay modelling before mould production. But direct modelling gives me raw immediacy and freedom.

I work across several media except metal foundry casting like bronze and gold. Those require expensive foundry processes.

Direct modelling may be the cheapest method, but it is also one of the hardest.

“Nigeria Has Not Done Enough To Preserve Its Heroes”

Do you think Nigeria has done enough to preserve indigenous heroes and cultural narratives through visual culture?

No, I don’t think so.

The dominant religious systems in the country have distanced many people from indigenous memory and heritage. Traditional heroes and cultural symbols are often misunderstood or dismissed as fetish.

Government institutions have also not done enough.

Many young people today do not know where museums, theatres, libraries, or cultural centres are located. Historical education has weakened, and because of that, people are becoming disconnected from their roots.

Until we return to grassroots cultural education, preservation will remain difficult.

“Public Sculptures Can Reconnect People To Their History”

How can monuments and public art reconnect younger Nigerians to identity and collective memory?

I often think about the famous Sango sculpture created by the late Professor Ben Enwonwu at Marina in Lagos.

Whenever people see that sculpture, they remember Sango’s majesty and significance immediately.

That is the power of public art.

When monuments are placed in civic spaces with historical accuracy and meaning, they become educational landmarks. People stop, ask questions, take photographs, and begin conversations.

A child may ask, “Who is this person?”

That single question can open the door to history.

“The Whole City Can Become A Museum”

If properly supported, what kind of national transformation can public art inspire in Nigeria?

Public art speaks to society every day. You do not need to buy a ticket or enter a gallery. You simply pass through a roundabout, a museum, or a civic square, and the work begins communicating with you.

If projects like this receive proper support through funding, logistics, research assistance, accommodation, and manpower, we can create something transformative across Nigeria.

Imagine cities where roundabouts celebrate indigenous heroes instead of anonymous structures. Imagine sculptures of Queen Amina, Awolowo, Ogunmola, Latosa, or local founders standing proudly in civic spaces.

People begin to see their history as worthy of honour and that changes national psychology.

Public art can strengthen tourism, revive local economies, create employment for artists and historians, and most importantly, rebuild cultural confidence.

Over time, the entire city becomes a museum.

“Our History Is Not A Footnote, It Is The Main Text”

Looking at your philosophy, achievements, and decades of artistic exploration, what is the deeper message you hope Nigerians and the global art community will hear through your work?

My philosophy is simple, art should help people remember what society is trying to forget.

For decades, I have worked through some kind of neglect, limited institutional support, and financial struggle. Yet I continued because I believe the work matters beyond me. And my message is this, our history is not a footnote, it is the main text.

Too often, our cities reflect foreign memory more than African memory. But my sculptures are a refusal to let our stories disappear.

Culture is not decoration. It is infrastructure for identity. When governments build roads without building memory, they create nations without cultural spine.

I also want the world to understand that supporting artists and researchers in Nigeria is not charity. It is investment in living archives that matter globally.

And finally, my deepest message is this, remember us while we are still here to tell the story.

iBAND Magazine, Celebrating Visual Arts from the Original.
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