| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 In an article in African Arts in summer 1975 the Italian scholar V.I. Grottanelli announced the discovery in Rome of a hitherto unrecorded late fifteenth/early sixteenth century ivory salt-cellar from Sierra Leone. It was no ordinary run-of-the-mill work, but what he justifiably described as a masterpiece of carving, of exceptional size and decorative detail, not least in the carving of the lid, which showed a large squatting male figure, naked except for a pair of shorts, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, a round shield on its left arm, and its right arm raised gripping the handle of a hatchet as if to strike (Fig. 1). In front of the figure was a smaller figure, its head bowed as if to receive the blow, and half-a-dozen decapitated heads. The ensemble understandably was interpreted by Grottanelli, and by others subsequently, as a scene of actual or symbolic execution. The identity of the large figure has been a matter of speculation. Most have supposed it to represent an African warrior leader or chief triumphing over his enemies. The wearing of the shorts with their codpiece and the appearance of hair drawn back in a pigtail at the nape of the neck have inclined others to think that the figure may be meant to be European (Curnow 1983: 133), although it is hard to imagine the circumstances in which a European would be shown in the pose of an executioner or warrior-chief. However what concerns us in the present instance is the weapon which the main figure holds aloft. Grottanelli explained that the right arm and hand gripping the hatchet were restorations modelled on the caryatid figures around the base of the salt-cellar, but that the restorers had no model for the weapon itself. It was clearly a chopping instrument of some kind, and there were published illustrations of generic African axes that might have provided a more plausible original of the kind of weapon the restorers were looking for, but the solution they settled on, a European-style hatchet, looks inauthentic even to the eye of a casual and nonspecialist observer. It is the aim of the present research note to suggest what kind of weapon the executioner-figure might originally have held and to draw attention to a group of similar weapons which have not hitherto been described in the literature about Sierra Leone. In 1985, while researching brass masks of chiefship among the Temne people of central Sierra Leone, I photographed an unusual weapon with a brass-bound handle and broad iron blade (Fig. 2). It was part of the paraphernalia of the chief ’s brass-masked ritual messenger in Kolifa chiefdom, Tonkolili district. The blade was pierced through in a number of places: two parallel rows of six and seven small rectangular vents through the broadest span of the blade and above them four larger vents around a central hole or hub forming a rough cross or wheel motif. In addition there were a number of pinholes around the edges of the blade and a curiou
{"title":"Ceremonial Bill-Hooks from Sierra Leone","authors":"W. Hart","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00653","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00653","url":null,"abstract":"| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 In an article in African Arts in summer 1975 the Italian scholar V.I. Grottanelli announced the discovery in Rome of a hitherto unrecorded late fifteenth/early sixteenth century ivory salt-cellar from Sierra Leone. It was no ordinary run-of-the-mill work, but what he justifiably described as a masterpiece of carving, of exceptional size and decorative detail, not least in the carving of the lid, which showed a large squatting male figure, naked except for a pair of shorts, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, a round shield on its left arm, and its right arm raised gripping the handle of a hatchet as if to strike (Fig. 1). In front of the figure was a smaller figure, its head bowed as if to receive the blow, and half-a-dozen decapitated heads. The ensemble understandably was interpreted by Grottanelli, and by others subsequently, as a scene of actual or symbolic execution. The identity of the large figure has been a matter of speculation. Most have supposed it to represent an African warrior leader or chief triumphing over his enemies. The wearing of the shorts with their codpiece and the appearance of hair drawn back in a pigtail at the nape of the neck have inclined others to think that the figure may be meant to be European (Curnow 1983: 133), although it is hard to imagine the circumstances in which a European would be shown in the pose of an executioner or warrior-chief. However what concerns us in the present instance is the weapon which the main figure holds aloft. Grottanelli explained that the right arm and hand gripping the hatchet were restorations modelled on the caryatid figures around the base of the salt-cellar, but that the restorers had no model for the weapon itself. It was clearly a chopping instrument of some kind, and there were published illustrations of generic African axes that might have provided a more plausible original of the kind of weapon the restorers were looking for, but the solution they settled on, a European-style hatchet, looks inauthentic even to the eye of a casual and nonspecialist observer. It is the aim of the present research note to suggest what kind of weapon the executioner-figure might originally have held and to draw attention to a group of similar weapons which have not hitherto been described in the literature about Sierra Leone. In 1985, while researching brass masks of chiefship among the Temne people of central Sierra Leone, I photographed an unusual weapon with a brass-bound handle and broad iron blade (Fig. 2). It was part of the paraphernalia of the chief ’s brass-masked ritual messenger in Kolifa chiefdom, Tonkolili district. The blade was pierced through in a number of places: two parallel rows of six and seven small rectangular vents through the broadest span of the blade and above them four larger vents around a central hole or hub forming a rough cross or wheel motif. In addition there were a number of pinholes around the edges of the blade and a curiou","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"20-25"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45181454","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
There were several reasons to celebrate the temporary exhibition of Freddy Tsimba’s work at the newly renovated AfricaMuseum in Tervuren, a stone’s throw away from the center of Brussels. It was an important occasion as it was the museum’s first large-scale exhibition of contemporary African art and its first oneman show. It is also significant that it was an event recognizing an artist living and working in the Congo, unlike many shows that draw upon selections of works of so-called diaspora artists settled in Europe and North America. What is more, it was curated by In Koli Jean Boffan, an accomplished novelist of Congolese origin, who was not only instrumental in the conceptualization of this exhibition, but whose texts of a book in progress featured as a verbal echo of Tsimba’s life and oeuvres. The opening on October 28, 2020, sadly fell during the pandemic, just the day before the second lockdown in Belgium due to COVID19. But, in keeping with Freddy’s trajectory, battling patiently and persistently for years to make his creative endeavors known beyond his Kinshasa compound, the event reopened on December 1 in defiance of COVID’s relentless onslaught and much to the pleasure of surprisingly many curious visitors. According to some of the attendees, word of mouth spread quickly about this exhibition as it was something new and different for an institution associated with African arts of the past. The exhibition was showcased in the large polyvalent space, off the wide, underground corridor connecting the new entrance pavilion to the old museum building. This huge, white cube, devoid of any mise en scène,1 was appropriated by thirty-seven sculptures, fifteen metal masks, four paintings, and a small selection of historical pieces from the museum’s collection chosen by in-house staff and offered to the artist for selection. Upon entering, one was struck by the monumentality of many of these metal sculptures. For me this stark, sterile space actually enhanced the effect of their dramatic themes and materials relating to conflict and oppression (Fig. 1). The whitewashed environment contributed to an almost palpable silence, periodically disrupted by Freddy Tsimba’s voice at the back of the 1 Two figures of pregnant women in the installation I will not give them my diamond II (2014), largest of the three, H. approx. 210 cm., constructed of discarded keys.
在距离布鲁塞尔市中心仅一箭之遥的特尔武伦新装修的非洲博物馆，有几个理由来庆祝Freddy Tsimba作品的临时展览。这是一个重要的时刻，因为这是博物馆第一次大型当代非洲艺术展览，也是第一次单人展览。同样重要的是，这是一场表彰一位在刚果生活和工作的艺术家的活动，而不像许多展览那样借鉴了定居在欧洲和北美的所谓散居艺术家的作品。此外，它由刚果裔小说家In Koli Jean Boffan策划，他不仅在本次展览的概念化中发挥了重要作用，而且他的一本正在进行的书的文本是对Tsimba生活和作品的口头呼应。2020年10月28日的开幕式在疫情期间不幸落幕，就在比利时因新冠肺炎第二次封锁的前一天19。但是，为了与弗雷迪的轨迹保持一致，多年来他一直在耐心和坚持不懈地斗争，以使自己的创造性努力在金沙萨大院之外广为人知，该活动于12月1日重新开放，无视新冠病毒的无情袭击，这让许多好奇的游客感到非常高兴。据一些与会者说，这次展览的口碑很快就传开了，因为对于一个与过去非洲艺术相关的机构来说，这是一个新的、不同的东西。展览在连接新入口展馆和旧博物馆大楼的宽阔地下走廊外的大型多价空间展出。这个巨大的白色立方体，没有任何mise en scène，1被内部工作人员从博物馆藏品中挑选的37件雕塑、15个金属面具、4幅绘画和少量历史作品占用，并提供给艺术家供其挑选。一进门，人们就被这些金属雕塑中的许多纪念碑所震撼。对我来说，这个荒凉、贫瘠的空间实际上增强了他们与冲突和压迫有关的戏剧主题和材料的效果（图1）。粉刷过的环境造成了一种几乎明显的沉默，Freddy Tsimba在装置中的两个孕妇雕像后面的声音不时打断了这种沉默。我不会给她们我的钻石II（2014），这是三个雕像中最大的一个，高约210厘米，由废弃的钥匙制成。
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| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 Classifications, typologies, labels, and other organizational tools help us wade through complex cultural contexts and specificities. They may be a point of departure that suggests clarity, providing a veil of reassurance. Yet, if not subject to renewal in terms of temporal and spatial considerations, they can become static mechanisms that constrain and obscure the wealth of changing and seemingly anomalous factors that are essential features of dynamic cultural realities. As Gonseth et al. have stated, “the world cannot be defined solely in terms of classifications ... it has to be looked at through, between, over, and above the expressions of our codes” (2013: 19). In the domain of art, the naming and labeling game (attribution, provenance, identification of object types) is a major concern, with very different issues preoccupying scholars and those in the private sector. Where the monetary value of art works remains the fundamental driver, perennial “stylistic” criteria of authenticity related to ethnic labels are repeatedly evoked and maintained to preserve easily recognizable market indicators. In scholarly circles, Renée Bravmann definitely “opened the frontiers” in 1973 by showing “avenues of mobility” beyond the “frozen cultures” of William Fagg’s 1960s “one tribe, one style” ethnic paradigm (Bravmann 1973: 9, 10; Fagg 1965: 11), yet the “single stories” approach, to which Gagliardi and Biro (2019:1) have recently referred, in which an object is attributed to “a whole group of people or a geographical area,” is still currently used. Maxime de Formanoir (2019) has shown how the so-called Kota label, for example, applied in a 2017 major Paris exhibition to no fewer than 102 “reliquary figures”—aesthetically aligned simply on the basis of morphology and style—has obscuring their exact regional provenance and context of production and use. My concern here goes beyond the preoccupation with style and ethnicity, two vast topics of debate (see Gagliardi et al. 2020: 16–21) which remain prime Western art historical and art market concerns, that are at times a little too intertwined. What interests me has to do with the reading of interethnic visual forms, their local performative and ritual use, interpretation and labeling. To exemplify this I will deal with a cultural feature of the Congo-Gabonese Atlantic coastal region, but essentially from the Congolese sector of Kwilu province of Congo-Brazzaville, where I undertook research in the 1990s. As I have not conducted research north of the Congolese border, this research note unpacks an unbiased and hopefully useful southern view of local specificities that characterize a part of a more extensive, variegated landscape of practices and beliefs. My study of the literature and field research conducted in Congo-Brazzaville has led me to realize the extent to which intertwined, changing realities may be confusing to those unfamiliar with the terrain (Hersak 200
|2022年非洲艺术夏季第55卷第2期分类、类型、标签和其他组织工具帮助我们应对复杂的文化背景和特殊性。它们可能是一个表明清晰的出发点，提供了一层保证的面纱。然而，如果不在时间和空间考虑方面进行更新，它们可能会成为静态机制，限制和掩盖不断变化和看似异常的因素，而这些因素是动态文化现实的基本特征。正如Gonseth等人所说，“世界不能仅仅用分类来定义……它必须通过我们代码的表达来看待”（2013:19）。在艺术领域，命名和标签游戏（物品类型的归属、出处、识别）是一个主要问题，学者和私营部门的学者关注的问题截然不同。在艺术作品的货币价值仍然是根本驱动力的地方，与种族标签相关的常年“风格”真实性标准被反复唤起并保持，以保持易于识别的市场指标。在学术界，勒内·布拉夫曼（Renée Brafmann）在1973年通过展示超越威廉·法格（William Fagg）20世纪60年代“一个部落，一种风格”的种族范式（Brafmann 1973:9，10；法格1965:11）的“冻结文化”的“流动途径”，无疑“打开了边界”，但加格里亚迪（Gagliardi）和比罗（Biro）（2019:1）最近提到的“单一故事”方法，其中一个物体被归因于“一整组人或一个地理区域”，目前仍在使用。Maxime de Formanoir（2019）展示了所谓的Kota标签是如何在2017年巴黎的一次大型展览中应用于不少于102个“圣物箱人物”的——仅仅基于形态和风格在美学上进行了排列——掩盖了它们的确切地区来源以及生产和使用背景。我在这里关注的不仅仅是风格和种族，这两个巨大的辩论话题（见Gagliardi等人，2020:16-21）仍然是西方艺术历史和艺术市场的主要关注点，有时有点过于交织。我感兴趣的是对种族间视觉形式的阅读，它们在当地的表演和仪式使用，解释和标记。为了举例说明这一点，我将讨论刚果-加蓬-大西洋沿岸地区的一个文化特征，但主要来自刚果布拉柴维尔奎鲁省的刚果地区，我在20世纪90年代在那里进行了研究。由于我没有在刚果边境以北进行研究，这份研究报告揭示了一种公正的、希望有用的南方观点，即当地的特殊性，是更广泛、多样化的实践和信仰景观的一部分。我对文献的研究和在刚果布拉柴维尔进行的实地研究使我意识到，交织在一起、不断变化的现实可能会在多大程度上让那些不熟悉地形的人感到困惑（Hersak，2001年）。在缺乏关于特定物体的历史证据和收集数据，以及雕刻师和使用者的匿名性（无论是选择的还是强加的）的情况下，选择性阅读似乎是唯一可能的解释途径，因为它们更容易处理。我之前提到过对庞大的讲孔戈语的综合体的同质化和简单化解释，这是一个从加蓬南部延伸到安哥拉北部的社会文化实体（Hersak，2001年）。这种“单一故事”的失实陈述可能部分是由于难以处理该地区存在的大量文件，这些文件可以追溯到16世纪以后，但也可能是由于最近的实地调查很少。在阅读一个地区的共时和历时文化特征时，对象类型的识别一直受到学术分类法的约束。例如，在早期文献研究笔记中，去掉了公认的模糊术语“恋物癖”（至少在英语中是这样），该术语自接触时期以来就一直使用
{"title":"Power Objects: On the Transient Nature of Classifications, with Examples from the Kwilu Region in Congo-Brazzaville","authors":"Dunja Hersak","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00654","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00654","url":null,"abstract":"| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 Classifications, typologies, labels, and other organizational tools help us wade through complex cultural contexts and specificities. They may be a point of departure that suggests clarity, providing a veil of reassurance. Yet, if not subject to renewal in terms of temporal and spatial considerations, they can become static mechanisms that constrain and obscure the wealth of changing and seemingly anomalous factors that are essential features of dynamic cultural realities. As Gonseth et al. have stated, “the world cannot be defined solely in terms of classifications ... it has to be looked at through, between, over, and above the expressions of our codes” (2013: 19). In the domain of art, the naming and labeling game (attribution, provenance, identification of object types) is a major concern, with very different issues preoccupying scholars and those in the private sector. Where the monetary value of art works remains the fundamental driver, perennial “stylistic” criteria of authenticity related to ethnic labels are repeatedly evoked and maintained to preserve easily recognizable market indicators. In scholarly circles, Renée Bravmann definitely “opened the frontiers” in 1973 by showing “avenues of mobility” beyond the “frozen cultures” of William Fagg’s 1960s “one tribe, one style” ethnic paradigm (Bravmann 1973: 9, 10; Fagg 1965: 11), yet the “single stories” approach, to which Gagliardi and Biro (2019:1) have recently referred, in which an object is attributed to “a whole group of people or a geographical area,” is still currently used. Maxime de Formanoir (2019) has shown how the so-called Kota label, for example, applied in a 2017 major Paris exhibition to no fewer than 102 “reliquary figures”—aesthetically aligned simply on the basis of morphology and style—has obscuring their exact regional provenance and context of production and use. My concern here goes beyond the preoccupation with style and ethnicity, two vast topics of debate (see Gagliardi et al. 2020: 16–21) which remain prime Western art historical and art market concerns, that are at times a little too intertwined. What interests me has to do with the reading of interethnic visual forms, their local performative and ritual use, interpretation and labeling. To exemplify this I will deal with a cultural feature of the Congo-Gabonese Atlantic coastal region, but essentially from the Congolese sector of Kwilu province of Congo-Brazzaville, where I undertook research in the 1990s. As I have not conducted research north of the Congolese border, this research note unpacks an unbiased and hopefully useful southern view of local specificities that characterize a part of a more extensive, variegated landscape of practices and beliefs. My study of the literature and field research conducted in Congo-Brazzaville has led me to realize the extent to which intertwined, changing realities may be confusing to those unfamiliar with the terrain (Hersak 200","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"26-35"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48553337","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Decorative Arts of the Tunisian École: Fabrications of Modernism, Gender, and Power","authors":"A. Kallander","doi":"10.1162/afar_r_00661","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_r_00661","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"93-94"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"41636843","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 In Things Fall Apart (1958) and Arrow of God (1964), Chinua Achebe was concerned to show that Africans before the intervention of Europeans had culture, government, religion, philosophy, astronomy, music, dance, science, art, and architecture. These novels were set in the precolonial era, toward the onset of colonization in Igboland in Eastern Nigeria (Fig. 1). Traditional architecture has long been used as an index to measure humankind’s state of development or their response to their environment in terms of using available materials to afford protection over the elements, animals, and fellow people. Beyond these basic essentials, however, Vitruvius, in his treatise De Architectura Litori Decem (27–23 bce) considered philosophy, music, meteorology, astronomy, and engineering as related to architecture (Dmochowski 1990: v). It is within these and other contexts—like environment, religion, tradition and language—that traditional Igbo architecture will be examined to illustrate its symbolic attributes in this essay. Labelle Prussin (1969: 1) considers architecture first as a building process where humans manipulate materials at their disposal and hence as building technology. It is also seen as a concept that examines the nature and quality of the space created. Finally it is considered as the sublimation of a culture’s symbolism and therefore an array of its graphic and formal system of values. Similarly, Aniakor (2002: 273) appraises Igbo architecture within the matrix of society’s ideas, symbolism, space, building materials, and technology. Even when one views Igbo architecture as the art of space and space organization, a building is a spatial entity formally quantified into three-dimensional form as a structure. This is made possible by master builders who manipulate available materials to form distinct styles of architecture. The skill is a form of expertise, but the building design derives from ideas of the society. This interplay among form, symbol, idea, and expertise is crucial to any understanding of Igbo architecture. Aniakor further notes that “the ability of architecture to symbolize derives from the fact that it is a social institution and thus lies in the social matrix of the human society” (2002: 273). Traditional Igbo architecture, an aspect of the people’s material culture and artistic heritage, will be shown to intersect with and be contiguous with other components of Igbo cultural attributes, worldview, and mores using aspects of the fictive, but materially valid, environment in the novels Things Fall Apart1 (Achebe 1958) and Arrow of God2 (Achebe 1964).
|《非洲艺术夏季2022》第55卷第2期《分崩离析》（1958年）和《上帝之箭》（1964年）中，Chinua Achebe关注地表明，在欧洲人干预之前，非洲人拥有文化、政府、宗教、哲学、天文学、音乐、舞蹈、科学、艺术和建筑。这些小说发生在前殖民时代，即将在尼日利亚东部的伊博兰开始殖民（图1）。长期以来，传统建筑一直被用作衡量人类发展状态或对环境反应的指标，即使用可用材料来保护元素、动物和人类。然而，除了这些基本要素之外，维特鲁威在他的论文《建筑》（De Architectura Litori Decem，公元前27-23年）中认为哲学、音乐、气象学、天文学和工程与建筑有关（Dmochowski 1990:v）。正是在这些和其他背景下，如环境、宗教、传统和语言，传统的伊博建筑将在本文中被检验，以说明其象征性属性。Labelle Prussin（1969:1）首先将建筑视为一种建筑过程，在这种过程中，人类可以随意操作材料，因此也是一种建筑技术。它也被视为一个考察所创造空间的性质和质量的概念。最后，它被认为是一种文化象征意义的升华，因此也是一系列图形和形式价值体系的升华。同样，Aniakor（2002:273）在社会思想、象征、空间、建筑材料和技术的矩阵中评估了伊博建筑。即使人们将伊博建筑视为空间和空间组织的艺术，建筑也是一种形式化量化为三维结构的空间实体。这是由大师级的建筑大师们创造的，他们利用可用的材料形成不同的建筑风格。技能是一种专业知识，但建筑设计源于社会观念。这种形式、符号、理念和专业知识之间的相互作用对于理解伊博建筑至关重要。Aniakor进一步指出，“建筑的象征能力源于它是一个社会机构，因此位于人类社会的社会矩阵中”（2002:273）。传统的伊博建筑是人们物质文化和艺术遗产的一个方面，在小说《Things Fall Apart1》（阿切贝，1958年）和《God2之箭》（阿切贝，1964年）中，它将利用虚构但物质有效的环境，与伊博文化属性、世界观和习俗的其他组成部分相交并相连。
{"title":"Traditional Igbo Architecture: A Symbolic Evaluation","authors":"Chinedu Ene-Orji","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00657","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00657","url":null,"abstract":"| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 In Things Fall Apart (1958) and Arrow of God (1964), Chinua Achebe was concerned to show that Africans before the intervention of Europeans had culture, government, religion, philosophy, astronomy, music, dance, science, art, and architecture. These novels were set in the precolonial era, toward the onset of colonization in Igboland in Eastern Nigeria (Fig. 1). Traditional architecture has long been used as an index to measure humankind’s state of development or their response to their environment in terms of using available materials to afford protection over the elements, animals, and fellow people. Beyond these basic essentials, however, Vitruvius, in his treatise De Architectura Litori Decem (27–23 bce) considered philosophy, music, meteorology, astronomy, and engineering as related to architecture (Dmochowski 1990: v). It is within these and other contexts—like environment, religion, tradition and language—that traditional Igbo architecture will be examined to illustrate its symbolic attributes in this essay. Labelle Prussin (1969: 1) considers architecture first as a building process where humans manipulate materials at their disposal and hence as building technology. It is also seen as a concept that examines the nature and quality of the space created. Finally it is considered as the sublimation of a culture’s symbolism and therefore an array of its graphic and formal system of values. Similarly, Aniakor (2002: 273) appraises Igbo architecture within the matrix of society’s ideas, symbolism, space, building materials, and technology. Even when one views Igbo architecture as the art of space and space organization, a building is a spatial entity formally quantified into three-dimensional form as a structure. This is made possible by master builders who manipulate available materials to form distinct styles of architecture. The skill is a form of expertise, but the building design derives from ideas of the society. This interplay among form, symbol, idea, and expertise is crucial to any understanding of Igbo architecture. Aniakor further notes that “the ability of architecture to symbolize derives from the fact that it is a social institution and thus lies in the social matrix of the human society” (2002: 273). Traditional Igbo architecture, an aspect of the people’s material culture and artistic heritage, will be shown to intersect with and be contiguous with other components of Igbo cultural attributes, worldview, and mores using aspects of the fictive, but materially valid, environment in the novels Things Fall Apart1 (Achebe 1958) and Arrow of God2 (Achebe 1964).","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"66-81"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42346387","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 This study probes into the iconology, history, and representation of the horseman figure in Yorùbáland and art. Although literature abounds on this topic, many such writings have approached the topic from the investigation of visual cultures and plastic representation of the horse. The present study employs multidimensional and unconventional approaches arising from considerations of iconology, religion, orature, and socioreligious performative festivals among the Yorùbá. The aim is to expand the research frontiers of the history of the horse and representation of the horseman figure in Yorùbáland and add new narratives to existing discourse on the topic. Following extensive and perplexing scholarship on the horse and equestrian figure in Yorùbáland, the present research is premised on sources guided by the Yorùbá maxim ọ̀rọ̀ sùnùkùn, oju sùnnùkùn ni a fi nwòó, meaning, “a bewildering situation requires an infrequent approach.” This maxim is generally recalled when a situation seems to defy known solutions. Such puzzles require unusual approaches. Here, the proverb is recalled to justify different methods of inquiry, especially those unexpected from an art historian like me. Beyond the historical importance of the horse as a war machine and object of prestige—which I can justifiably say has been overflogged by scholars from different academic disciplines—the iconology of the equestrian figure in Yorùbá society is so strong that the horse’s importance is reflected far beyond academia; it even has a place in the play of Yorùbá children. I remember quite vividly how, as a seven-year-old Yorùbá boy, at playtime we used to climb on the backs of our elder siblings and, sometimes, our bigger mates, while they rested on their hands and knees, imitating the horse, while surrounding playmates clapped their hands and sang “kútúpà kútúpà” (mimicking the rhythm of a horse’s hooves in motion and hailing the human “horse”), and “ẹṣin do ndo” (“the horse, high up”), as other children applauded and acknowledged the superiority of the child on the back of the “horse.”1 At that time the interesting and enjoyable thing, for me, was riding on someone else’s back. I also recall that we sometimes fell and sustained injuries from such antics. Now, as an adult, especially an art historian, the performance reverberates in my memories. Now that I am aware that my ancestors were trans-Saharan traders from Mali, I have more personal associations with the idea of horseriding. The history of the introduction of the horse to Yorùbáland suddenly becomes germane to the discourse that connects my present place with my ancestral space.2 My family history was gathered from my uncle, Olaide Abass— professor emeritus of computer science at the University of Lagos—while we were discussing matters concerning our family compound at Ẹdẹ3; he asked if I knew the reason why our family compound is called Ilé-Ìmàle. I told him I thought it was because
b|非洲艺术夏季2022年第55卷，第1期。2本研究探讨了骑马人物在Yorùbáland和艺术中的形象学、历史和表现。虽然关于这个话题的文献很多，但许多这样的著作都是从视觉文化和马的塑料表现的调查中接近这个话题的。本研究采用多维度和非常规的方法，这些方法源于对Yorùbá中圣像学、宗教、文学和社会宗教表演节日的考虑。其目的是扩展Yorùbáland中马的历史和骑手形象的研究前沿，并为该主题的现有话语添加新的叙述。在Yorùbáland中关于马和马术人物的广泛而令人困惑的学术研究之后，本研究以Yorùbá格言(格言)为指导的来源为前提，即“令人困惑的情况需要很少的方法”sùnùkùn, oju sùnnùkùn ni a fi nwòó。当一种情况似乎无法解决已知的问题时，人们通常会想起这句格言。这样的谜题需要不同寻常的方法。在这里，这句谚语被用来证明不同的研究方法是合理的，尤其是那些像我这样的艺术史学家意想不到的方法。除了马作为战争机器和声望对象的历史重要性之外——我可以理正气正地说，来自不同学术学科的学者已经夸大了这一点——马术人物在Yorùbá社会中的形象是如此强烈，以至于马的重要性远远超出了学术界的范围;它甚至在Yorùbá儿童的游戏中占有一席之地。我还清楚地记得，当我还是一个七岁Yorùbá的男孩时，玩耍的时候，我们常常爬到哥哥姐姐的背上，有时也爬到哥哥姐姐的背上，而哥哥姐姐们则趴在地上，模仿马的动作，而周围的玩伴们则拍手唱起“kútúpà kútúpà”(模仿马蹄声的节奏，欢呼人类的“马”)和“ẹṣin do ndo”(“马，高高在上”)。当其他孩子鼓掌并承认孩子在“马背”上的优越性时。在那个时候，对我来说最有趣、最愉快的事情就是骑在别人的背上。我还记得，我们有时会因为这样的滑稽动作摔倒受伤。现在，作为一个成年人，尤其是一个艺术史学家，这场表演在我的记忆中回响。现在我知道我的祖先是来自马里的跨撒哈拉贸易商，我对骑马的想法有了更多的个人联系。把马引入Yorùbáland的历史突然变得与我现在的地方和我祖先的空间联系起来的话语密切相关我的家族史是从我的叔叔Olaide Abass——拉各斯大学计算机科学的名誉教授——那里收集来的，当时我们正在Ẹdẹ3上讨论有关我们家族大院的事情;他问我是否知道我们家的大院为什么叫il -Ìmàle。我告诉他，我认为这是因为这个院落的成员大多是穆斯林，他们经常被Yorùbá基督教团体称为ìmàle (ìmọ æ líle的压缩，意思是“难以理解”)，这是对伊斯兰教及其从业者的一种嘲笑。然而，教授告诉我我错了——il -Ìmàle这个名字是il Mali(“马里的家”)的不准确说法。他告诉我，我们的祖先是跨撒哈拉的商人，他们骑马从马里来到伊洛林，后来应Ẹdẹ镇当时的蒂米(国王)的邀请，来到这里定居下来。他接着讲述了我们的祖先如何找到通往Ẹdẹ的路的故事，我们现在知道那里是我们的家乡。更重要的是，马在Yorùbá的世界观中具有象征性的显著地位，因为它与非常重要的历史和社会政治制度有关，例如Yorùbá神话中历史上重要的定居点的建立，以及它与关键的王权地位的联系。塞缪尔·约翰逊(1921:4)《通过两首伊夫诗和Ojúde-Ọba节日重新审视Yorùbá马术人物的历史和形象学》
{"title":"A Reconsideration of the History and Iconology of Yorùbá Equestrian Figure through Two Ifá Verses and the Ojúde-Ọ ba Festival","authors":"A. Akande","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00655","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00655","url":null,"abstract":"| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 This study probes into the iconology, history, and representation of the horseman figure in Yorùbáland and art. Although literature abounds on this topic, many such writings have approached the topic from the investigation of visual cultures and plastic representation of the horse. The present study employs multidimensional and unconventional approaches arising from considerations of iconology, religion, orature, and socioreligious performative festivals among the Yorùbá. The aim is to expand the research frontiers of the history of the horse and representation of the horseman figure in Yorùbáland and add new narratives to existing discourse on the topic. Following extensive and perplexing scholarship on the horse and equestrian figure in Yorùbáland, the present research is premised on sources guided by the Yorùbá maxim ọ̀rọ̀ sùnùkùn, oju sùnnùkùn ni a fi nwòó, meaning, “a bewildering situation requires an infrequent approach.” This maxim is generally recalled when a situation seems to defy known solutions. Such puzzles require unusual approaches. Here, the proverb is recalled to justify different methods of inquiry, especially those unexpected from an art historian like me. Beyond the historical importance of the horse as a war machine and object of prestige—which I can justifiably say has been overflogged by scholars from different academic disciplines—the iconology of the equestrian figure in Yorùbá society is so strong that the horse’s importance is reflected far beyond academia; it even has a place in the play of Yorùbá children. I remember quite vividly how, as a seven-year-old Yorùbá boy, at playtime we used to climb on the backs of our elder siblings and, sometimes, our bigger mates, while they rested on their hands and knees, imitating the horse, while surrounding playmates clapped their hands and sang “kútúpà kútúpà” (mimicking the rhythm of a horse’s hooves in motion and hailing the human “horse”), and “ẹṣin do ndo” (“the horse, high up”), as other children applauded and acknowledged the superiority of the child on the back of the “horse.”1 At that time the interesting and enjoyable thing, for me, was riding on someone else’s back. I also recall that we sometimes fell and sustained injuries from such antics. Now, as an adult, especially an art historian, the performance reverberates in my memories. Now that I am aware that my ancestors were trans-Saharan traders from Mali, I have more personal associations with the idea of horseriding. The history of the introduction of the horse to Yorùbáland suddenly becomes germane to the discourse that connects my present place with my ancestral space.2 My family history was gathered from my uncle, Olaide Abass— professor emeritus of computer science at the University of Lagos—while we were discussing matters concerning our family compound at Ẹdẹ3; he asked if I knew the reason why our family compound is called Ilé-Ìmàle. I told him I thought it was because","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"36-49"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"44509010","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 Based on archaeological excavations conducted in the 1970s by Merrick Posnansky in Begho (Ghana), this paper outlines a new cluster of early African ivories located in central Ghana.1 This group dates from the same time of other clusters widely recognized by the literature on early African ivories, such as those located on Serra Leoa,2 Owo, Benin, Calabar, and Kongo.3 Ivories belonging to some of these clusters are well documented in historical sources of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, including records in European collections as early as the mid-sixteenth century. Fragments of other ivories were found in archaeological contexts dating from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, namely in Portugal (Manso, Casimiro and Gomes 2021) and Ghana (Posnansky 1976). When compared against each other, the internal cohesiveness of these clusters becomes clearer, as well as their differences. We structured this paper into three sections in order to present our arguments for outlining Ghana’s cluster of early African ivories. First, we discuss the position of Begho in the trans-Saharan trade and how it fostered the development of local industries, including the production of small ivory objects. Second, we present evidence for considering the two fragments of side-blown ivory trumpets found by Posnansky in Begho as a product of the Akan peoples4 and we rebut the arguments of Ezio Bassani, who classified them as a subset of the Kongo cluster (2008: 35–38). Our reasoning stems from the relevance of Posnansky’s archaeological findings and from a deeper stylistic analysis of these objects. Third, we contrast Ghana’s ivory trumpets with trumpets from other early African clusters—namely Serra Leoa, Benin, Calabar, Kongo and another cluster in West Africa whose specific location remains undetermined, in order to strengthen the idiosyncrasy of Ghana’s ivories.5
{"title":"Early African Ivories","authors":"L. Afonso, Carlos Almeida, J. da Silva Horta","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00652","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00652","url":null,"abstract":"| african arts SUMMER 2022 VOL. 55, NO. 2 Based on archaeological excavations conducted in the 1970s by Merrick Posnansky in Begho (Ghana), this paper outlines a new cluster of early African ivories located in central Ghana.1 This group dates from the same time of other clusters widely recognized by the literature on early African ivories, such as those located on Serra Leoa,2 Owo, Benin, Calabar, and Kongo.3 Ivories belonging to some of these clusters are well documented in historical sources of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, including records in European collections as early as the mid-sixteenth century. Fragments of other ivories were found in archaeological contexts dating from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, namely in Portugal (Manso, Casimiro and Gomes 2021) and Ghana (Posnansky 1976). When compared against each other, the internal cohesiveness of these clusters becomes clearer, as well as their differences. We structured this paper into three sections in order to present our arguments for outlining Ghana’s cluster of early African ivories. First, we discuss the position of Begho in the trans-Saharan trade and how it fostered the development of local industries, including the production of small ivory objects. Second, we present evidence for considering the two fragments of side-blown ivory trumpets found by Posnansky in Begho as a product of the Akan peoples4 and we rebut the arguments of Ezio Bassani, who classified them as a subset of the Kongo cluster (2008: 35–38). Our reasoning stems from the relevance of Posnansky’s archaeological findings and from a deeper stylistic analysis of these objects. Third, we contrast Ghana’s ivory trumpets with trumpets from other early African clusters—namely Serra Leoa, Benin, Calabar, Kongo and another cluster in West Africa whose specific location remains undetermined, in order to strengthen the idiosyncrasy of Ghana’s ivories.5","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"10-19"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"44982454","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Postcolonial Modernism: Art and Decolonization in Twentieth-Century Nigeria","authors":"Chinedu Ene-Orji","doi":"10.1162/afar_r_00662","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_r_00662","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"95-96"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"43200040","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
| 29 On a Sunday afternoon in April 2021, I met virtually with painter Kwame Akoto, proprietor of the Almighty God Art Works studio located off the Suame Roundabout in Kumasi. The last time we had met in person was 2018, when I stopped by his studio to see his latest production and to bring Doran’s greetings. Akoto had learned of Doran’s passing in September 2020 from LA gallerist Ernie Wolfe, a mutual friend, who had called him immediately to share the news. During our recent conversation, Akoto was eager to share his feelings and memories of his long relationship with Doran Ross. This piece summarizes our exchange, where Akoto alternated recollections, hymns, and prayers as his tribute to “a great man.” Doran first met the prolific artist Kwame Akoto in 1995 on one of his frequent visits to Kumasi, when he would traverse the city taking stock of the community of sign painters working at a given time. For many years, Akoto, commonly referred to by his friends as “Almighty,” produced a large range of commercial paintings such as shop signs, banners, and other forms of advertising, as well as self-driven creative works mostly purchased by international customers. Over the previous decade, Almighty God Art Works’ commercial production or “sign writing” had progressively been supplanted by digital printing in line with the evolution of the local advertising industry. Digital placards are cheaper and more versatile than handpainted signs, and most businesses today favor photographic compositions that allow for advertising a broader range of products. For Akoto this change in business patterns has meant more time to dedicate to “creativity work.” This is where Akoto experiments with different visual languages and messaging to create paintings that are at once deeply serious and whimsical, poetic and very matter-of-fact. Christian themes, portraits of local and international figures, moral recommendations, and self-portraits are just some of the recurrent elements of Akoto’s iconography— often quite literally expressions of his worldviews and beliefs and plays on the tension between realism and paradox (Ross 2014a: 9). Despite the variety of subjects depicted, Almighty’s very direct
{"title":"Remembering a Great Man: A Conversation with Kwame Akoto of Almighty God Art Works","authors":"Silvia Forni","doi":"10.1162/afar_a_00629","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1162/afar_a_00629","url":null,"abstract":"| 29 On a Sunday afternoon in April 2021, I met virtually with painter Kwame Akoto, proprietor of the Almighty God Art Works studio located off the Suame Roundabout in Kumasi. The last time we had met in person was 2018, when I stopped by his studio to see his latest production and to bring Doran’s greetings. Akoto had learned of Doran’s passing in September 2020 from LA gallerist Ernie Wolfe, a mutual friend, who had called him immediately to share the news. During our recent conversation, Akoto was eager to share his feelings and memories of his long relationship with Doran Ross. This piece summarizes our exchange, where Akoto alternated recollections, hymns, and prayers as his tribute to “a great man.” Doran first met the prolific artist Kwame Akoto in 1995 on one of his frequent visits to Kumasi, when he would traverse the city taking stock of the community of sign painters working at a given time. For many years, Akoto, commonly referred to by his friends as “Almighty,” produced a large range of commercial paintings such as shop signs, banners, and other forms of advertising, as well as self-driven creative works mostly purchased by international customers. Over the previous decade, Almighty God Art Works’ commercial production or “sign writing” had progressively been supplanted by digital printing in line with the evolution of the local advertising industry. Digital placards are cheaper and more versatile than handpainted signs, and most businesses today favor photographic compositions that allow for advertising a broader range of products. For Akoto this change in business patterns has meant more time to dedicate to “creativity work.” This is where Akoto experiments with different visual languages and messaging to create paintings that are at once deeply serious and whimsical, poetic and very matter-of-fact. Christian themes, portraits of local and international figures, moral recommendations, and self-portraits are just some of the recurrent elements of Akoto’s iconography— often quite literally expressions of his worldviews and beliefs and plays on the tension between realism and paradox (Ross 2014a: 9). Despite the variety of subjects depicted, Almighty’s very direct","PeriodicalId":45314,"journal":{"name":"AFRICAN ARTS","volume":"55 1","pages":"29-31"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2022-02-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48254832","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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