November 11-17, 2004

art

Can You Hear Us Now?

Malick Sidib, Vues De Does (View of Backs) (2001, negative; 2004, print), 16 7/8 inches by 13 inches, gelatin silver print mounted with cardboard, tape and painted glass.

African artistic voices ancient and contemporary come through static-free in a context-rich exhibition.

by Robin Rice

Years ago, I took an art history course naively called "Primitive Art." In the first class, each student was given an object from a nearby museum, an object that had not been catalogued. The assignment was to identify the origin and function of the piece and to write a paper about it. The works were neither highly valuable nor old. Mine was a slit gong, nicely carved but a sort of miniature, probably made as a gift for a foreigner.

The odd thing was that after serious warnings, we were allowed to "own" these things for the semester, to keep them in our dorm rooms and to handle them freely. Such laissez-faire behavior is contrary to good museum practice, and yet it gave us students an ineffable intimacy with these pieces. Though perhaps not fulfilling their original purposes, they became part of our lives.

The exhibit "African Art, African Voices," now at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, balances such casual object "ownership" with conventional exhibition techniques. In her introduction to the show's catalogue, Pamela McClusky, curator of African and oceanic art at the Seattle Museum, which organized the exhibition, says, "Wearing gloves to place a mask in a velvet-lined storage cart … I envision taking steps away from the sterile enclosure and back into the messy vitality of the mask's home environment." The show gathers some 150 objects, most given to the Seattle Museum by collector Katherine White, and attempts to demystify sculpture, jewelry, clothing, textiles and more by appropriately contextualizing them.

Elaborate beaded bridal jewelry from Kenya, including headpieces, necklaces and earrings, are shown with photographs of the pieces modeled by African women. We may easily think, "I'd like to wear those." On the other hand, signage must explain that a Maninka, Guinea-Conakry Hunter's Shirt identified the wearer as a highly trained, potentially dangerous man who should be treated with extreme respect. We dare not imagine ourselves wearing a shirt like this.

A primary message of the exhibition is that African art functions in multiple spheres, not isolated on a pedestal. A Mali Tyi Wara (Farming Animal) crest mask, which depicts a small horned animal on the back of a larger one, was not intended to be displayed as a singular carved wood sculpture. While it is quite satisfying in this context, it was actually made to be part of a complete costume and a behavior involving movement and fabric and music. Having entered a museum context, this 19th-century piece will be forever subject to white-glove treatment, but through video and other methods the exhibition effectively contextualizes the artwork in performance and as part of clothing ensembles.

An insightful essay by Robert Farris Thompson in the exhibition catalogue Art From Africa (a terrific holiday gift, especially when accompanied by tickets to the show) speaks of "a different art history, a history of danced art … by multimetric sound and multipart motion." Thompson incisively analyzes stance and gesture as we see it in statues and in motion. A vivid example is an elaborate Basinjom costume including mask and headdress—incorporating a dizzying array of cloth, wood, feathers, porcupine quills, mirrors, herbs, raffia, cowry shells, rattle, eggshell, metal and genet cat skin —which was used to confront and rehabilitate witches and other sources of evil. Thompson, who was initiated into the Basinjom teachings in Cameroon in 1971, brought this costume to the U.S. He explains the theory that when we place our bodies in positions determined by our ancestors, and when we dress as they did and move as they did, we align ourselves with the greatness of the past.

Visitors to the exhibition, which makes the best of the PMA galleries' expansive space, will be mesmerized by large, lively projections showing the kinds of objects we see in the exhibition as they are meant to be used.

The show also makes the case that African art is not frozen in time. A recently evolved fashion in Ghana is for custom-made coffins representing something the deceased loved. Here, a Mercedes-Benz coffin—commissioned for artistic display, not a funeral—is exhibited. And there are works by today's art-world darlings like Nigerian Yinka Shonibare (who coincidentally is showing astronaut outfits at the Fabric Workshop). It all reminds us that art is not static—not historically and not experientially. Art is lived—directly by those who create it and vicariously by those who see it.

African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back Through Jan. 2, 2005, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 26th and The Parkway, 215-763-8100