Severed heads, bared teeth, sharpened spears, huge genitals—what’s not to like?

Such features mark the commanding Mbembe (m-BEM-beh) wooden sculptures of aggressive warriors and nurturing mothers, the yin and yang of sub-Saharan African culture. The MET’s exhibition provides a rare opportunity to see early works by unknown African artists from south-eastern Nigeria near the border of Cameroon. These pieces have not been shown together for over forty years, since they were first displayed in Paris in the early 1970s.

Carved for the most part between the 17^th and 19^th centuries, the huge pieces originally adorned either end of enormous hollowed-out communal drums, which have not survived. These instruments were played to celebrate spiritual and social life and to communicate with neighbours over ten kilometers away. Lest we forget the original purpose of the sculptures in the exhibition, drums tastefully play in the background, rather like a heartbeat. And who doesn’t love a beating drum at the end of the day? 

Three of the warrior-hero icons commemorate specific leaders, ensuring their place in history. Perhaps the most dramatic representation of the conquering warrior is the large standing statue of the Mbembe Chief Appia. (Like the other artifacts I am discussing, this figure dates from the 17^th to the 18^th century.) Founder of the village that is named for him, this squat, muscular figure holds an enemy’s head, which is larger than his own. After Appia died, he became the symbolic leader of a league of men who had each decapitated at least one enemy.

Other identified sculptures include the statues of Mabana and N’Ko. The seated figure of Chief Mabana balances a large trophy head on one knee. Like Appia, he is the founder of an eponymous village. The figures of Appia and Mabana may both have been freestanding statues, or they may have been displayed as independent sculptures when the rest of their original drums deteriorated.

The standing figure of Chief N’Ko is headless. Apparently N’Ko asked that, upon his death, the sculpture be decapitated and the head buried with his body to remind future generations that their freedom rested on the sacrifices of their ancestors. Incidentally, N’Ko may not have a head, but he is nothing if not well hung!

Although it dates from the 19^th to early 20^th century, my favourite warrior is the seated male figure with rifle and bowler hat. So stylish, yet so mad.

Of particular interest is the inspiration for the exhibition, Mother and Child Figure, acquired by the museum in 2010. This Mbembe interpretation of maternity integrates the two figures:  The baby appears to float horizontally across the lap of the (vertical) mother. This arrangement contrasts with Seated Mother and Child, where the upright child assumes the mother’s vertical posture.

Other highlights of the maternity-themed display include a seated female figure who appears to be cradling a (now missing) child, and a mother with pendulous breasts, who is nursing the child lying horizontally across her lap.

This small but powerful exhibition was organized by the museum’s curators in the Department of the Arts of Africa, Oceania and the Americas, Alisa LaGamma and Yaëlle Biro.  Although there is no accompanying catalogue, LaGamma’s essay in the Museum Journal provides an in-depth examination of many of the works in the exhibit.

Together the Mbembe mothers and warriors represent the development of gendered icons that still resonate culturally.

Warriors and Mothers is at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, until September 16th 2015.