Day 128 - Terracotta from Mali
April 21, 2019
I embark on my exploration of the galleries devoted to Africa, Oceania, and the Americas, starting with gallery 350, which centers on sub-Saharan African art. And I realize that the first thing I need to learn is just where present-day Mali and Burkina Faso (to choose only two from a host of possible examples) are. I take a picture of a map of Africa helpfully posted near the entrance to these galleries; I expect I'll refer to it often.
Most of the objects on display are masks or figurines carved of wood. In general, they depict humans, animals, or in some cases composites with both human and animal features. They largely date from the 19th and 20th centuries, although some are much older, bespeaking the continuity of some artistic traditions. According to the captions, many of the objects served ceremonial functions; they were used, for example, in initiation and healing rituals. Carrying one of these figures around in a religious rite initially strikes me as strange and exotic. But I suppose it's no more so than carrying a statue of a Hindu god (Shiva?) around the South Indian temple we visited (not to mention dressing and undressing that statue and putting it to bed every night)- -- or, for that matter, carrying around a statue of the Virgin at the San Gennaro festival and pinning dollar bills to her robes.
One object that had a more utilitarian purpose is a support post for the roof of an open-sided shelter where men of the Dagon people in Mali congregated to rest and chat. The post is carved in relief and features a woman with absolutely enormous boobs. Maybe these had spiritual significance as well, but I suspect they were mostly intended to attract and please the male gaze.
The function of today's object, a foot-high terracotta seated man from 13th century Mali, is not altogether clear. The man sits with his legs crossed, his left arm wrapped around his right leg and his head resting on his right knee. To me, the figure's posture and expression convey the essence of depression and grief: His eyes are closed tight, his mouth open as if in a wail. The caption says that the hunched position, shaved head, and lack of ornaments recall mourning practices that are widespread in Africa, and that such figures may have been placed on domestic altars dedicated to ancestral or protective spirits. Whatever its purpose, the figure is utterly arresting.
Most of the objects on display are masks or figurines carved of wood. In general, they depict humans, animals, or in some cases composites with both human and animal features. They largely date from the 19th and 20th centuries, although some are much older, bespeaking the continuity of some artistic traditions. According to the captions, many of the objects served ceremonial functions; they were used, for example, in initiation and healing rituals. Carrying one of these figures around in a religious rite initially strikes me as strange and exotic. But I suppose it's no more so than carrying a statue of a Hindu god (Shiva?) around the South Indian temple we visited (not to mention dressing and undressing that statue and putting it to bed every night)- -- or, for that matter, carrying around a statue of the Virgin at the San Gennaro festival and pinning dollar bills to her robes.
One object that had a more utilitarian purpose is a support post for the roof of an open-sided shelter where men of the Dagon people in Mali congregated to rest and chat. The post is carved in relief and features a woman with absolutely enormous boobs. Maybe these had spiritual significance as well, but I suspect they were mostly intended to attract and please the male gaze.
The function of today's object, a foot-high terracotta seated man from 13th century Mali, is not altogether clear. The man sits with his legs crossed, his left arm wrapped around his right leg and his head resting on his right knee. To me, the figure's posture and expression convey the essence of depression and grief: His eyes are closed tight, his mouth open as if in a wail. The caption says that the hunched position, shaved head, and lack of ornaments recall mourning practices that are widespread in Africa, and that such figures may have been placed on domestic altars dedicated to ancestral or protective spirits. Whatever its purpose, the figure is utterly arresting.
I note that many of the objects here are part of the Michael Rockefeller collection, and many come from a now-defunct museum called the Museum of Primitive Art. The fact that that name is so intensely distasteful and would never be tolerated today does say something about the way that our country, or at least its elite, has evolved for the better in the last 60 years, Trump notwithstanding.
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