A bronze sculpture - Plaque - Benin - Nigeria

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Surya Rutten
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Selected by Surya Rutten

Has over 25 years' experience in Asian art and owned an art gallery.

Estimate  € 2,000 - € 2,400
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€55
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€50

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Bronze plaque from Nigeria of Benin culture, titled “A bronze sculpture,” original/official, weighing 7 kg, 70 cm high and 30 cm deep, produced at the court of the Oba in Benin City, Nigeria.

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Description from the seller

A fragmentary plaque in the style of Benin, Nigeria, depicting a Portuguese figure holding a flintlock firearm, with a sword at his waist, dressed in the manner of a sixteenth-century Portuguese warrior. The four sides are bordered by “rosettes” adjacent to mounting holes. The plaque displays a multilayered, naturally developed patina; see enlargements at the end of the image sequence.

The depictions of Portuguese warriors on the sixteenth-century bronze plaques of the Kingdom of Benin rank among the earliest visual testimonies of direct encounters between a sub-Saharan courtly state and Europe. Produced at the court of the Oba in Benin City, in what is now Nigeria, they document not only commercial exchange but also a controlled visual appropriation of the foreign within an established courtly iconography.

From the late fifteenth century onward, Benin maintained diplomatic and economic relations with Portugal. The expeditions of Diogo Cão marked the beginning of an intensive phase of coastal contact. Trade included pepper, ivory, and—at a later stage—enslaved people; in return, metals, especially brass in the form of manillas, as well as weapons and textiles, reached West Africa. This imported metal provided the material basis for numerous cast works now collectively known as the Benin Bronzes.

The relief plaques, which originally adorned the pillars and walls of the royal palace, functioned as a visual archive of dynastic power. Within this context, the Portuguese figures do not appear in isolation but are integrated into a strictly hierarchical pictorial order. Their presence is therefore not a documentary coincidence but an expression of political significance. The inclusion of European actors within courtly iconography signals the Oba’s claim to inscribe even transoceanic contacts into his sphere of symbolic control.

From a formal-analytical perspective, the Portuguese are identifiable by characteristic attributes: European headgear, puffed sleeves, short doublets, swords, or arquebuses. Physiognomic difference is emphasized through beards and through a particular treatment of the facial surface, such as stippling that suggests lighter skin. These markers are not caricatural but typifying. They establish alterity without depriving the figures of dignity. In many compositions, the Portuguese appear upright, sometimes frontal, sometimes in profile, occupying a visually stable position.

Particularly noteworthy is their recurring association with maritime motifs—fish or other aquatic symbols. This iconographic linkage can be interpreted cosmologically: within Benin courtly thought, the sea was regarded as a source of wealth and supernatural potency. Foreigners arriving from the sea could thus be perceived as bearers of special powers, whose integration into the courtly order further legitimized the Oba’s authority.

The plaques are therefore better understood not as ethnographic snapshots but as political image programs. They visualize the Kingdom of Benin’s capacity to incorporate external actors into an existing system of rank, ritual, and meaning. The Portuguese do not appear as conquerors but as elements within a network dominated by the court. Their representation attests both to economic entanglement and to symbolic appropriation.

The violent seizure of numerous bronzes during the British expedition of 1897 and their transfer to European museums—among them the British Museum and the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin—has placed the objects within a further historical framework: that of colonial displacement and contemporary restitution debates. Today, they stand not only for early modern globality but also for the asymmetrical violence of the nineteenth century and ongoing efforts toward museological recontextualization.

Taken together, the depictions of Portuguese warriors may be read as visual nodes within an early Atlantic world. They point to trade, technology, and diplomacy, while simultaneously attesting to the aesthetic sovereignty of an African court that did not passively record the foreign, but actively shaped and translated it into its own system of order. Our piece attribution and datation is given by the extent of our knowledge and for reference only. Without TL test, the piece remains subject to authentication.

Seller's Story

Wolfgang Jaenicke’s engagement with African art did not begin in the field or the marketplace but in a quieter, more inward space—among papers, books, and objects that belonged to his father. The archive on Germany’s former colonies was not arranged to tell a single story; it suggested many. It invited scrutiny rather than reverence, and it taught Jaenicke early on that objects are never mute. They carry time inside them—fracture and continuity held in the same form—and they ask to be read as carefully as texts. For more than a quarter century, Jaenicke has worked as a collector, dealer, and intermediary, though none of these terms quite captures the shape of his practice. What used to be grouped, too casually, under the heading of “Tribal Art” has never appeared to him as a sealed or historical category. It is, instead, a set of living traditions, constantly negotiating the present. His academic training—in ethnology, art history, and comparative law—provided a grammar. The language itself he learned elsewhere. In Mali, Cameroon, Côte d’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, Togo, and Ghana, knowledge emerged slowly, through repeated encounters that hardened into relationships, and through trust built not all at once but over years. Mali became the gravitational center of this experience. Between 2002 and 2012, Jaenicke lived and worked in Bamako and Ségou, where he ran Tribalartforum, a gallery overlooking the Niger River. The space resisted easy chronology. Sculptures and ceramics shared the room with photography, and works by Malick Sidibé—images of Malian youth in the 1970s, self-assured and exuberant—hung alongside older ritual forms. The effect was not nostalgic but clarifying: past and present did not cancel each other out; they sharpened one another. The war of 2012 ended this chapter abruptly, as wars tend to do. But it did not dissolve the work. Together with Aguibou Kamaté, Jaenicke regrouped in Lomé, closer to the places where many of the objects originated and to the routes they continue to travel. Since 2018, Berlin has become another point on this map. Galerie Wolfgang Jaenicke now operates opposite Charlottenburg Palace, supported by a small team of specialists. Its focus rests, in particular, on West African bronzes and terracottas—materials shaped by earth and fire, and by forms of memory that resist easy translation. What distinguishes Jaenicke’s practice is not only its geographical range but its internal tension. Fieldwork is paired with provenance research; commerce is treated as inseparable from responsibility. In collaboration with museums and scholarly initiatives, circulation is framed not as extraction but as an ethical process that remains unfinished. The aim is not to remove objects from the world and seal them off, but to keep them readable within it—to allow them to continue speaking, even as the conditions of their speech change.

A fragmentary plaque in the style of Benin, Nigeria, depicting a Portuguese figure holding a flintlock firearm, with a sword at his waist, dressed in the manner of a sixteenth-century Portuguese warrior. The four sides are bordered by “rosettes” adjacent to mounting holes. The plaque displays a multilayered, naturally developed patina; see enlargements at the end of the image sequence.

The depictions of Portuguese warriors on the sixteenth-century bronze plaques of the Kingdom of Benin rank among the earliest visual testimonies of direct encounters between a sub-Saharan courtly state and Europe. Produced at the court of the Oba in Benin City, in what is now Nigeria, they document not only commercial exchange but also a controlled visual appropriation of the foreign within an established courtly iconography.

From the late fifteenth century onward, Benin maintained diplomatic and economic relations with Portugal. The expeditions of Diogo Cão marked the beginning of an intensive phase of coastal contact. Trade included pepper, ivory, and—at a later stage—enslaved people; in return, metals, especially brass in the form of manillas, as well as weapons and textiles, reached West Africa. This imported metal provided the material basis for numerous cast works now collectively known as the Benin Bronzes.

The relief plaques, which originally adorned the pillars and walls of the royal palace, functioned as a visual archive of dynastic power. Within this context, the Portuguese figures do not appear in isolation but are integrated into a strictly hierarchical pictorial order. Their presence is therefore not a documentary coincidence but an expression of political significance. The inclusion of European actors within courtly iconography signals the Oba’s claim to inscribe even transoceanic contacts into his sphere of symbolic control.

From a formal-analytical perspective, the Portuguese are identifiable by characteristic attributes: European headgear, puffed sleeves, short doublets, swords, or arquebuses. Physiognomic difference is emphasized through beards and through a particular treatment of the facial surface, such as stippling that suggests lighter skin. These markers are not caricatural but typifying. They establish alterity without depriving the figures of dignity. In many compositions, the Portuguese appear upright, sometimes frontal, sometimes in profile, occupying a visually stable position.

Particularly noteworthy is their recurring association with maritime motifs—fish or other aquatic symbols. This iconographic linkage can be interpreted cosmologically: within Benin courtly thought, the sea was regarded as a source of wealth and supernatural potency. Foreigners arriving from the sea could thus be perceived as bearers of special powers, whose integration into the courtly order further legitimized the Oba’s authority.

The plaques are therefore better understood not as ethnographic snapshots but as political image programs. They visualize the Kingdom of Benin’s capacity to incorporate external actors into an existing system of rank, ritual, and meaning. The Portuguese do not appear as conquerors but as elements within a network dominated by the court. Their representation attests both to economic entanglement and to symbolic appropriation.

The violent seizure of numerous bronzes during the British expedition of 1897 and their transfer to European museums—among them the British Museum and the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin—has placed the objects within a further historical framework: that of colonial displacement and contemporary restitution debates. Today, they stand not only for early modern globality but also for the asymmetrical violence of the nineteenth century and ongoing efforts toward museological recontextualization.

Taken together, the depictions of Portuguese warriors may be read as visual nodes within an early Atlantic world. They point to trade, technology, and diplomacy, while simultaneously attesting to the aesthetic sovereignty of an African court that did not passively record the foreign, but actively shaped and translated it into its own system of order. Our piece attribution and datation is given by the extent of our knowledge and for reference only. Without TL test, the piece remains subject to authentication.

Seller's Story

Wolfgang Jaenicke’s engagement with African art did not begin in the field or the marketplace but in a quieter, more inward space—among papers, books, and objects that belonged to his father. The archive on Germany’s former colonies was not arranged to tell a single story; it suggested many. It invited scrutiny rather than reverence, and it taught Jaenicke early on that objects are never mute. They carry time inside them—fracture and continuity held in the same form—and they ask to be read as carefully as texts. For more than a quarter century, Jaenicke has worked as a collector, dealer, and intermediary, though none of these terms quite captures the shape of his practice. What used to be grouped, too casually, under the heading of “Tribal Art” has never appeared to him as a sealed or historical category. It is, instead, a set of living traditions, constantly negotiating the present. His academic training—in ethnology, art history, and comparative law—provided a grammar. The language itself he learned elsewhere. In Mali, Cameroon, Côte d’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, Togo, and Ghana, knowledge emerged slowly, through repeated encounters that hardened into relationships, and through trust built not all at once but over years. Mali became the gravitational center of this experience. Between 2002 and 2012, Jaenicke lived and worked in Bamako and Ségou, where he ran Tribalartforum, a gallery overlooking the Niger River. The space resisted easy chronology. Sculptures and ceramics shared the room with photography, and works by Malick Sidibé—images of Malian youth in the 1970s, self-assured and exuberant—hung alongside older ritual forms. The effect was not nostalgic but clarifying: past and present did not cancel each other out; they sharpened one another. The war of 2012 ended this chapter abruptly, as wars tend to do. But it did not dissolve the work. Together with Aguibou Kamaté, Jaenicke regrouped in Lomé, closer to the places where many of the objects originated and to the routes they continue to travel. Since 2018, Berlin has become another point on this map. Galerie Wolfgang Jaenicke now operates opposite Charlottenburg Palace, supported by a small team of specialists. Its focus rests, in particular, on West African bronzes and terracottas—materials shaped by earth and fire, and by forms of memory that resist easy translation. What distinguishes Jaenicke’s practice is not only its geographical range but its internal tension. Fieldwork is paired with provenance research; commerce is treated as inseparable from responsibility. In collaboration with museums and scholarly initiatives, circulation is framed not as extraction but as an ethical process that remains unfinished. The aim is not to remove objects from the world and seal them off, but to keep them readable within it—to allow them to continue speaking, even as the conditions of their speech change.

Details

Indigenous object name
Plaque
Ethnic group/ culture
Benin
Country of Origin
Nigeria
Material
Bronze
Sold with stand
No
Condition
Fair condition
Title of artwork
A bronze sculpture
Height
70 cm
Depth
30 cm
Weight
7 kg
Authenticity
Original/official
GermanyVerified
6241
Objects sold
99.7%
protop

Rechtliche Informationen des Verkäufers

Unternehmen:
Jaenicke Njoya GmbH
Repräsentant:
Wolfgang Jaenicke
Adresse:
Jaenicke Njoya GmbH
Klausenerplatz 7
14059 Berlin
GERMANY
Telefonnummer:
+493033951033
Email:
w.jaenicke@jaenicke-njoya.com
USt-IdNr.:
DE241193499

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