MoMA’s African Modernism: More Than Just Buildings

A crisp September breeze rustles through the trees lining West 53rd Street, where MoMA stands as a testament to modern art and, sometimes, modern debates. Enter the gallery, and you hear murmurs about the latest exhibition, ‘African Modernism and the Politics of Design’. The title alone, not unlike the architectural designs it showcases, brings with it a world of connotations and connections.

Inside, the exhibition spills from room to room, each space a new vista of color, form, and history. The works aren’t just blueprints or models—each piece tells a story of post-independence optimism and the struggle for identity in the African continent. These designs, born in a different era yet startlingly relevant, echo New York’s own journey through urban renewal, gentrification, and architectural soul-searching.

New Yorkers have a long, complicated relationship with design. Our skyline, a jagged silhouette, holds secrets and dreams. It’s a city old enough to be wise, young enough to reinvent itself every other decade. We’ve seen Victorian evolve into Deco, Deco morph into the brutal lines of mid-century modernism, and these days, the shiny, glass towers that some call progress and others call an eyesore.

MoMA’s exhibition is a timely conversation starter. As urban planners and developers play tug-of-war with the city’s fabric, these African designs, born of a desire to forge new national identities, resonate with a city in flux. The post-independence era in Africa, marked by bold architectural statements, offers a fresh perspective on our very own urban metamorphosis.

The irony, however, lies in the fact that many of these African architects were trained in the West, adopting and adapting styles that were in vogue here before being shipped back home to serve an entirely different purpose. It’s a circular dance of influence, one where modernism takes on different hues depending on whose hands shape it.

In a corner of the gallery, a young architecture student lingers longer than most. Her sketchbook is full of quick scribbles and half-formed ideas, each one influenced by the building blocks on display. She’s a native New Yorker, a product of the city’s complex weave of cultures and histories. To her, the exhibition isn’t just about architecture; it’s about identity, belonging, and the stories we tell through the spaces we inhabit.

And that, perhaps, is the most poignant takeaway from MoMA’s latest offering. As New Yorkers, we are constantly rewriting our own narratives—our buildings, our streets, our parks are more than mere structures; they are living histories. So, as we walk away from the exhibition, the question hangs in the air like the first chill of autumn: What will our own architectural legacy say about us? Will future generations find inspiration or warnings in our choices?

MoMA leaves us with this gentle provocation, a challenge to see beyond the surface and to consider the politics of design—not just in Africa, but here, in the city that never sleeps.

— Margaux Renier · Columnist