The chandeliers can attract curiosity once. Programming guarantees loyalty forever… The National Theatre of old was not iconic because of its architecture alone. It became iconic because generations of Nigerians could claim ownership of its memories. Every artist had a story. Every student had an experience. Every family had a photograph. It belonged to all of us… The Wole Soyinka Centre deserves nothing less.
THE chandeliers are beautiful. They should be. After all, billions of naira were spent to restore what was once Africa’s most iconic cultural edifice. The walls are magnificent. The architecture is breathtaking. The ambience is world-class. There is every reason for Nigerians to be proud.
But there is one inconvenient question that refuses to go away: who exactly is all this beauty for?
More importantly, what will make the Wole Soyinka Centre for Culture and the Creative Arts iconic twenty years from now—the beauty of its chandeliers or the cultural memories created within its walls?
Will tourists travel thousands of miles to admire imported lighting fixtures or to experience the richness of Nigerian culture? Will our children remember the polished marble floors or the first play they watched there? Will the world celebrate our architecture or our artistic excellence?
The truth is simple. Nobody travels to Broadway because of chandeliers. Nobody remembers great cultural institutions because of their ceilings. People remember what happened there. They remember the stories that were told, the festivals they attended, the music that moved them and the communities that found themselves through culture.
Buildings don’t become iconic. Experiences do.
Without cultural programming, every theatre is merely an event centre wearing an expensive cultural agbada.
Perhaps that is where our national conversation must now shift—from infrastructure to intentionality.
For too long, we have spoken about rehabilitation. We must now begin to speak about utilization.
The greatest danger facing the Centre today is not that it will fail commercially. It is that it might become commercially successful as an event centre while failing monumentally as a cultural institution.
There is a difference.
A cultural centre should not be waiting for occasional bookings to survive. It must create reasons for Nigerians to visit every week. Programming must become its business model.
The irony is that artists have never argued against profitability. No serious cultural practitioner wants the Centre to become an annual subsidy burden on government. Indeed, we desire that it becomes Africa’s most commercially successful cultural institution. However, commercial success in the cultural sector is driven principally by programming and accessibility—not merely by premium rental charges.
Culture is profitable when it is consistent.
Imagine a programming calendar divided into cultural seasons.
From November to April, during Nigeria’s dry season, the magnificent indoor spaces should come alive with repertory theatre productions, international music concerts, literary festivals, film screenings, dance seasons, stand-up comedy festivals, opera performances, children’s theatre productions and cultural conferences.
Every month should have its own signature event. Nigerians should know that the first weekend of every month belongs to theatre, the second to music, the third to film and the fourth to cultural conversations. School tours should become a weekly occurrence. Universities should own particular performance slots annually. Resident companies should occupy some spaces permanently.
Then comes the rainy season.
The rains should not dampen culture; they should simply redefine it.
The outdoor spaces can become Nigeria’s largest Art Hub—a living cultural ecosystem operating throughout the year. Imagine an artistic village surrounding the Centre comprising open-air exhibitions, sculpture gardens, book fairs, indigenous food courts, weekend craft markets, cultural fashion showcases, poetry cafés, spoken-word performances, street theatre, children’s creative parks and cultural tourism experiences.
Why should every visitor merely walk into the building and leave? Why shouldn’t they spend six hours there?
Let there be permanent spaces for visual artists to exhibit their works. Let emerging filmmakers screen independent productions every weekend. Let indigenous musicians own Friday evenings. Let families know that Saturdays belong to cultural experiences. Let Sundays become heritage days celebrating Nigeria’s rich cultural diversity.
An effective Art Hub can become an economy on its own.
The sculptor earns. The actor earns. The food vendor earns. The costume designer earns. The bookseller earns. The photographer earns. The Centre earns. Government earns. Nigeria earns.
That is what creative economies look like.
The Centre should never sleep.
Imagine a twelve-month cultural calendar marketed internationally two years ahead. Imagine tourists scheduling their visits to Nigeria because of FESTINA, a National Theatre Season, a Pan-African Dance Festival, Children’s Arts Month, Nollywood Week or Indigenous Languages Theatre Festival.
Imagine cultural exchanges bringing performances from South Africa, Brazil, India, Japan and the Caribbean to Lagos while Nigerian productions travel abroad under reciprocal arrangements.
Imagine thousands of students visiting weekly to learn stagecraft, lighting design, cinematography, costume design, playwriting and cultural entrepreneurship.
Then imagine restaurants, cafés, bookstores and souvenir shops surrounding the Centre operating till midnight because culture has become both commerce and community.
That is how cultural institutions become profitable.
Not every inch of profitability must come from venue rentals. Sometimes, the greatest revenue lies in creating thousands of reasons for people to visit repeatedly.
The chandeliers can attract curiosity once. Programming guarantees loyalty forever.
The National Theatre of old was not iconic because of its architecture alone. It became iconic because generations of Nigerians could claim ownership of its memories. Every artist had a story. Every student had an experience. Every family had a photograph. It belonged to all of us.
The Wole Soyinka Centre deserves nothing less.
The next phase of its development must therefore move beyond infrastructure management to cultural management. Its greatest asset is not its walls. It is its possibilities.
The Centre must become a city within a city—a cultural republic where commerce and creativity coexist beautifully.
And so, perhaps we should stop asking how beautiful the chandeliers are and begin asking a far more important question: what stories are they illuminating?
Because when history is eventually written, no one will remember how magnificent the chandeliers were if the stages beneath them remained silent.
The lights were never meant to shine on themselves.
They were meant to shine on us.
- Adeniran, fta, playwright, theatre director, is National President, National Association of Nigerian Theatre Arts Practitioners, NANTAP.
