Authenticity among the Kwele

The text that follow, by Leon Siroto, an ethnologist
that lived among the Kwele and studied them. Speaking
of fakes and authenticity, I think this text is
very interesting.



Beete masks existed primarily to dance. [...]
no frontal masks were used for ritual purpose
other than dancing.

[...]

Ritual masking using wooden types waned before
the 1920s. Some nostaligic lineages commissioned
a few for their own entertainment. Probably no
more than ten masks from the beete era came to
France in the early 1910s. The aparent absence
of Kwele masks in German museums is surprising.

[...]

In the late 1920s colonial administrators in
French Equatorial Africa grew aware of the rising
value of African traditional sculpture on the Paris
market. Those who saw a few masks among the Kwele
commissionned more from the same men who had
carved masks for beete in its heyday. Both cash
incentive and love of carving motivated these
artists, many of whom were young men when they
took up their calling. At least two excellent
carvers were still working when I was among the
eastern Kwele in the early 1960s.

The lure of cash also encourgaed the growth in
the 1930s of a school of Kwele "débrouillards",
ressourcefull young men with no previous training
who strove to work things out on their own by
improvising on models seen in the workplaces of
the masters. From what I saw and was told, these
amateur made masks were carved in innocence,
with no intent to deceive and no knowledge of
what would appeal to Europeans. This cottage
industry in traditional mask types produced many
examples that went from subprefecture to
prefecture to Brazzaville and Pointe-Noire,
tributaries flowing into rivers flowing into
the sea.

These colonial masks came to Paris in the mid and
late 1930s. Some found their place in the then
Musée d'Outre Mer. Others came up on the market,
where they were greatly admired and quickly sold.
Their unusual style and great quality allayed
all doubt about their authenticity. Moreover, in
those years there were fewer collectors, and they
were concerned more with intrinsic form than with
any validating dossier of ceremonial use.

Some carvers adhered to their precolonial training
and made masks as if they would be worn in the
dance, furnishing them with holes at the top and
sides for the cords that would secure them to their
wearer's heads. Other carvers, no less accomplished,
knew that Europeans wanted the masks for souvenirs
and decorative effects; they spared themselves the
trouble of burning through the harness holes.
Some solid maskslike objects had face on either side,
a complete departure from tradition.

In the following decades, as the general African art
market vastly increased, anxiety over too fulsome
a supply led to the dogmatic equation of authenticity
with "tribal ritual use". This watchword expressed a
romantic assurance that an artist trained in a
traditional, technologicaly simple society could not
produce affecting imagery without total faith in his
local religion.

Yet the example of the Kwele masks seems to refute
this premise. Traditional Kwele carvers working
beyond the end of their religious tradition produced
masks rightly considered to be masterpieces of both
Kwele and African art. The absence of an adequate
corpus of precolonial masks prevents the assumption
that later works were in any case inferior. Indeed,
according to the specific details of the carvers'
lives and their freedom from traditional strictures,
some may have done their best work after the fact.
This exception would apply only to the carvers who
had begun their careers before the twilight of beete.
One would not expect the carvers and carpenters in
following generations to excel in a tradition they
had never learned. This is not to say, however,
that all or most carvers excelled - according to
western standards - in traditional times.

Whether of internal or external origin, most copies
run counter to the Kwele masters' rationale.
Traditional Kwele carvers understood that their
masks represented spirits as personae and varied
the features to make this apparent. The facsimiles
that dealers and auction galleries fail to screen
out of their stock often originate in the workshops
of non Kwele ethnic groups, often in other parts
of africa.

Lately, dealers have become stuck to the tar baby
that grew out of their "authenticity equals ritual
use" formula. Collectors and scholars have begun to
remark on the absence of harness holes and signs
of wear on the great masks of this genre. Rather
than leave the question open, some sellers have
invented a scenario suggesting that the traditional
Kwele danced about thrusting some of their masks
outward at their sides, manipulating them as if
operating a steering wheel. The dignity of the art
is thus sacrificed, perhaps for posterity, for
the extrinsic value of the object.


Ref:
East of the Atlantic, West of the Congo, Art from Equatorial Africa.
exhibition catalog by Leon Siroto, Kathleen Berrin editor, 1995
ISBN 0-88401-080-5

__________________
Frédéric CLOTH

Hi Frederic,

I agree - the account of carving among the Kwele is very thought provoking. It also reminds me of the story behind the wood sculpture that is the focus of my introductory essay. Baxter Rains, the sculptor, did it on commission. The person who commissioned it intended for it to be a fake. Baxter, who retained his integrity in the matter, notes that making it changed the artistic direction of his work. Things move in strange wasy sometimes.

Regards, and happy new year,

Steve Price

Masks without harness holes

Dear Frederic,

Thanks for posting Leon Siroto's interesting contribution to the topic of authenticity. I'd like to comment on just one small aspect of this very rich article, that of masks without harness holes.

Some months ago, I came across a Vili mask (also like Kwele, from the western Congo basin), which, judging from the quality of the carving, the pigments, and patina seemed to have been made for ritual use. However, like the Kwele masks to which Mr Siroto refers, it had no harness holes. The Vili maskon the other hand, had clear signs of having been held with some frequency with both hands against someone's face. The interior of the mask has rather convincing greasy deposits where the wearer's nose, forehead, and chin came into contact with the mask. Also, the sides of the mask, both on the inside and the outside had signs of frequently having been held (greasy deposits on the inside and darkening of the pigment on the outside). I admit that these signs of wear can also be simulated, but in the case of this Vili mask, I find the patination quite convincing. However, it is altogether possible the patination has been artificially "enhanced."

Mr Siroto seems rather sceptical concerning the supposition that the Kwele masks without harness holes were held while being danced. Does any one have any other examples of masks without harness holes or masks that were hand held while dancing? Finding examples of masks that we hand held while dancing would not necessarily weaken Mr Siroto's thesis, but it would help us understand and be better able to evaluate masks without harness holes.

Thanks,

Bruce

One example of hand held mask that are I've often seen in the literature is the Troh mask of the Bangwa (Cameroon) that is supposed to be too powerful to be weared without danger (and therefore is put on the shoulder of the dancer). Here's a picture of that mask coming from "African masks from the Barbier-Mueller collection" (ISBN 3-7913-2709-7):



Speaking of masks that aren't weared recall me of a text I read about the Punu:

Alisa Lagamma in her "Art of the Punu Mukudj Masquerade" (1996, Columbia University) reports the fact that mukudj masks can both be weared and used to be hanged on walls.

In this later use, they are hanged above the doorway usually together with bones, horns, tusks and/or skulls of animals, photo of family members or of political figures, Christian votive images,...

This use of mukudj masks in salons is indeed more common than the use as a performance mask.

Obviously, those masks do not need to be deeply carved on the back, and do not even need eyeholes to be pierced. They are also often a bit smaller and require less labour to be made.

To commission such a mask to a local carver is less expensive (7500 CFA, where a performance mask would cost 9000 CFA).

It is probable that this tradition isn't very old. It has been observed in the nineties in Libreville and in southern Gabon, and A. Lagamma give the hypothesis that this tradition is inspired by white peoples that usually hanged masks to their wall as decoration.

__________________
Frédéric CLOTH

Masks without harness holes

Dear Frederic,

Thank you very much. This material is very helpful.

Best wishes,

Bruce Leimsidor