El Anatsui, born in Ghana, works and teaches in Nigeria. There he has developed into a multi-faceted, multi-layered artist. He began his career as a sculptor, but in a career that spans more than four decades he has worked in a variety of mediums. His first Canadian retrospective is currently on view at the ROM until Jan. 2, 2011. Presented there by its Institute for Contemporary Culture (ICC), this exhibit had been planned to have its North American premiere at the Museum of African Art in New York. Delays in the construction of that venue shifted the opening to Toronto. It is a lucky break, though in a three-year tour of the continent, it sooner or later would have come here. At least I am sure because this city was already known to him at the start of his career, when his left Africa for the first time in 1978 to attend a conference in Toronto. In 2009 he also gave a talk at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO).

While his earlier works touch on El Anatsui's African heritage, his later work seems free of any regionalism. Not that the early works need to be discounted. If anything, they set the groundwork for what came later. His is not the kind of art that we associate with 'native' work. Even his most African pieces, such as the ceramic, Omen from 1978, his large plates on which he stamped the visual symbols of his culture, or the salvaged wood and metal group sculpture, Akua's Surviving Children from 1996, combine regionalism with universal themes. This grouping and a single, tall, standing figure exude a touching sense of being alive despite having been created from drift wood and nails, and are devoid of realism.

One might say that only an African could have produced his most recent works, the giant wall hangings made from flattened bottle caps knitted together with invisible copper wire, but they do not speak of Africa as such. Such works as Sacred Moon or Three Continents speak an international, cosmopolitan visual language that is their hallmark. Some of these flowing, yet undulating, glittering pieces, which look as if they had been woven, were highlights at the Venice Biennale 2007. One can easily see why. These are works that will enhance any surrounding, except they are far too large for most places other than public spaces.

Nor will one refuse some of what this reviewer will call his wood paintings. They are a combination of sculpture and illustration in that El Anatsui has imprinted them with the ancient symbols that are still in use today by various Nigerian tribes. To us, they are simply pleasing images burnished into the wooden slats put together in a variety of shapes. Assorted Seeds II, 1989, is only one of several very different works of this nature.

Another work made of metal is his Peak Project. It consists of about 50 sheets of linked lids from Peak milk tins, a product widely sold in Nigeria, though it appears to be mostly produced in Holland. These sheets, which at the ROM take on a hue of gold, are formed into a row of amorphous shapes that seem to almost breathe. Unfortunately, the location allows for little light to reach them, which is a shame as they are easily bypassed because of it.

Which brings me to the distaff of this highly appealing, colorful and definitely delightful exhibit. Most of the explanations about the various works are in such small type they are difficult to read. This is made worse by the mostly deep blue walls on which El Antasui's works are hung. This color does not aid the works and so they sometimes have to fight to exist. Whether this was his choice or the ROM's curators I do not know.

Taking into account El Antasui's long career and his growing importance in the art world, it begs the question why he is being shown by the ROM, an institution more concerned with archeology, anthropology and dead or lost civilizations. True, this is a last-minute change in venue and the Art Gallery of Ontario may not have been available when the decision was made. Why then display him under the auspices of the ICC? El Antasui is not some kind of new cultural phenomenon. As an artist who reaches the Venice Biennale, he is worthy of being shown without any specific cultural tags attached to him.