Walking into A Maze of Power at Rabat’s Mohammed VI Museum (opened 15 April 2025), one is immediately struck by its grandeur. The space is dimly lit, with dark walls that make the colours of the paintings pop. Towering, life-sized portraits of African heads of state fill the room, each framed by heavy drapes or architectural backdrops. These eleven oil-on-linen paintings were first shown in Paris and Dakar, and now make Morocco’s capital feel like an ornate royal gallery. Wiley is best known in Britain for his 2018 portrait of Barack Obama (seated amid a cascade of leaves and flowers), and here he applies the same lush, baroque style to a new cast of leaders. As the press notes, he “borrows from classical easel painting techniques, posing African leaders in a style mainly associated with European royalty and aristocracy”.
Portraits loom in high-contrast colour along the gallery walls. For example, one canvas shows Ghana’s former president in vivid kente cloth and traditional regalia, his figure bold against a scarlet velvet curtain. The scale is cinematic: even an adult visitor feels small under the towering frame. In these settings, familiar visual tropes are given an “Instagrammable” burst of pattern and pageantry. Wiley often asked each leader to pose with cues from Old Master paintings, and the effect is instantly sumptuous: you can almost feel the silk of robes and the gleam of gold trim. (Indeed, each painting “reflects distinctive cultural elements of each state, revealing an individual’s identity through the dual prism of the artist and his model,” as one gallery press note explains. Shades of crimson, emerald and royal blue dominate, set off by bright local patterns – it’s as if the gallery has been draped in the continent’s flag colours.
A visitor admires one of Wiley’s monumental canvases, dwarfed by its size. In this case, the portrait is of Congo’s President Felix Tshisekedi (dark suit, cane), shown against a green landscape stretching into the distance. Each portrait has a narrative composition. For instance, Ethiopia’s ex-president Sahle-Work Zewde stands demurely by a window, the city of Addis Ababa behind her, a delicate flower in hand. Madagascar’s former leader Hery Rajaonarimampianina sits astride a horse, sword on hip. Ivory Coast’s President Alassane Ouattara is shown with furrowed brow and sword in hand, as if ready to defend his country. Wiley’s technique was to take hundreds of photos of each sitter and then transpose them into these lush, semi-abstract settings. The result feels both familiar and uncanny: the faces are hyper-realistic, but they float in a stage-like realm of pattern.
Wiley’s artistic theme is clear. He is known for placing Black figures into classical contexts – in this case he treats modern African leaders as if they were European monarchs. The New Yorker notes his fascination with portraiture’s history, and here he even joked he will use “a pose” from old paintings regardless of context. Wiley himself says he aimed to examine “the depiction of power, both beautifully and problematically”. In other words, he’s not simply glorifying these rulers, but pulling back to consider what a presidential portrait means. As he put it, he wanted “a bird’s-eye view” of the political portrait tradition. Notably, he did not choose subjects for their politics – several have dubious reputations (from corruption allegations to ignoring term limits) – and he has pointedly kept the series neutral about their personal records. Instead, the composite effect raises questions about power itself: the cloth, thrones and symbols remind us of authority, yet nothing here feels propagandistic. As one critic observed, Wiley’s subjects include even two leaders whose armies clash (Rwanda’s Paul Kagame and DR Congo’s Felix Tshisekedi) – a reminder that art can spotlight uncomfortable realities without taking sides.
The Moroccan context adds another layer. A Maze of Power is part of Rabat’s push to be an African art hub (it opens just ahead of the new Museum of the African Continent nearby). Wiley’s travelling show – after Paris and Dakar – symbolises a bridge between West African art and global institutions. Early coverage in British media has been largely descriptive and intrigued. The Independent noted it as “an exhibition of portraits of African leaders as part of a years-long series exploring politics and image-making”. So far, reviewers highlight the dazzling aesthetic: the riot of pattern and the sheer scale make the gallery feel like an imperial salon. But they also flag Wiley’s own comment on seeing power “beautifully and problematically”. In other words, audiences are noticing that this is as much about ideas as it is about selfies – the exhibition invites thoughtful engagement with its political subtext as well as its striking visuals.
Key takeaways
- Grand Presidential Gallery: Eleven huge oil portraits of African leaders line the walls – from Ghana’s Nana Akufo-Addo in vivid kente cloth to Senegal’s Macky Sall – each rendered in Wiley’s signature style.
- Classical Meets Contemporary: Wiley paints with 18th-century European portrait techniques, but his subjects wear African dress and sit amid tropical motifs. The result is a bold collision of styles that “reveal[s] an individual’s identity” and even “lay bare contours of ego”.
- Theme of Power: The show deliberately plays with authority symbols (thrones, horses, swords) to question what a president’s image means. Wiley describes the project as a chance to view power “both beautifully and problematically”, giving a bird’s-eye perspective on political image-making.
- Political Context: Some of the sitters are controversial figures (one portrait even pairs two leaders whose armies have clashed. Wiley says the goal is not to judge them, but to highlight the trappings of office and the complexity behind the portraits.
- Morocco’s Art Scene: A Maze of Power ties into Morocco’s cultural agenda. After Paris and Dakar, its arrival in Rabat reinforces the city’s emergence as a centre for African art. Early press has noted its visual impact and thematic depth, making it a talking point for art and politics alike.
