The grove came close to being lost. Farming, felling and the ordinary pressure of a growing town had cut it back badly by the middle of the twentieth century, and the shrines in it were in poor repair. Its recovery from the late 1950s onward is bound up with Susanne Wenger, an Austrian artist who settled in Osogbo, was initiated into the tradition, and worked for decades with local carvers, builders and priests on the shrines, sculptures and walls that stand in the grove today. The New Sacred Art movement that grew around that work is why the site looks to a visitor the way it does.
In 2005 the grove was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List, and the festival that ends inside it now draws tens of thousands. Both facts are usually told as a rescue, and both complicate the picture. Much of what reads as ancient in the grove is recent, made by named people within living memory, which does not make it less sacred to those who worship there but does make the heritage description harder to write honestly. The listing also brought money, a tourism industry and a state interest in the festival's calendar and its presentation.
Whether that protects the worship or slowly replaces it is genuinely argued. The case that the two are entangled rather than opposed, that cult and heritage economy now sustain each other, is made at length in Peter Probst's study of Osogbo. The case that the visitors are an intrusion is made regularly in the town. The atlas records the disagreement rather than settling it.