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Lot Essay
René Mendès-France on African Art quoted in 1967:
In 1923, at Galerie Percier, with whom I used to collaborate — I was close to many artists, art lovers and dealers; some of them were interested and already collected fetishes and tribal art objects : Picasso, Lhote, Miré, Tzara, Breton, André Level, Henri Clouzot, André Lefèvre, Alferd Richet, Dr. Girardin, Paul Guillaume, Hessel, etc.
At the time, we mainly saw African objects: Belgian Congo, Middle Congo, Ivory Coast, etc. These were my first encounters with ‘primitive’ art. Gabon, Oceanic and American arts came later for us, during the time of the huge Surrealist wave and vogue.
I admire every beautiful production of ‘primitive’ arts, but I prefer African art above all.
Why? Maybe because I feel it is closer to my conception of plasticity; it is often animistic, but never completely decorative nor teratological. Also, maybe because their aesthetic styles, which are continued through a ritual tradition, unyielding in each African region, make me think about sculptors of the 12th, 13th and 14th centuries for whom religious emotion made their practices something like the occult, with a kind of magical power: In these two seemingly polar opposites – medieval art of Europe and ceremonial art of Africa – we find emotion, humility and mysticism as a result of the white sculptor’s and the black sculptor’s ‘State of Grace’.
I’m touched by the objects’ form and signification. For me, sculpturally and aesthetically, form and signification are inseparable. A form which is merely descriptive without symbolism is poor; it is a nebulous form, basically meaningless (a priori, abstract painting and sculpture). Conventional writing in cuneiform, Chinese, Hebraic, and so forth, are only tools exclusively understood through our perfunctory channels of communication.
The language of form, is quite exemplary through our use of sight to communicate, starting from natural realm of living beings and other things. Artists today deeply transgress this reality, bypassing tribal traditional rituals and the potential sovereignty of the fetish itself, or of this ancestor portrait or of that ritual mask.
Since 1923, and my first impression of African art, no commentary or essay about ‘primitive’ arts, their aesthetic, their magic or their meaning has changed my point of view on this subject.
Portrait, Ndoma, mask by the "Kondorobo Master"
Contrary to the image of Baule art as homogenous and consistent, this magnificent and unique mask reflects the porousness of “ethnic” boundaries, through which diverse artistic influences pass freely.
The typical Baule composition is adopted here; the arrangement of the face gives a sense of peaceful internal concentration: it is clearly structured around the straight line of the bridge of the nose, while the dual arches of the brows, each of which begins at the top of the nose and continues down the sides of the face until they merge into the edge of the almost flat cheeks, with those soft curves outlining a subtle heart shape. Meanwhile, the headdress (of a type called tré ba), arranged in three arches reflecting those of the eyes, is the ultimate in refinement. Its series of interwoven braids, plaited across the head, are carved in such a way as to suggest filigree spaces with an astonishing variety of juxtaposed and interlaced ridges; incisions, triangles and lozenges transform the hair into a wreath, surmounted by two crowning plaits (ko glo). Clearly identifying this mask as the work of a brilliant Baule sculptor, the scarifications (or baule ngole, "Baule trademarks"1 increase its ceremonial eminence and are marks of social distinction. These perfect signatures are distributed in a simple symmetrical arrangement, two series on each temple and at the corners of the lips, two horizontal lines forming a square above the bridge of the nose, and three protruding ridges at the top of the forehead alongside two rectangles.
Conversely, some stylistic elements are characteristic of influences from the other side of the River Bandama. Consider the relatively narrow chin and smooth face – elongated at the bottom, narrower at the jaws. Likewise, the fluidity of formation and the tension of form – both of which come to bear as the pronounced elongation of the oblong head gives way to a reflective high forehead – are features specific to the masks of the nearby northern Guro, on the right bank of the river, in Guériafla and Maminigui. These artistic characteristics2, which give this Baule mask exceptional breadth and indicate that it is the work of an artist from the Baule sub-group of the Warébo, who live in Baule territory to the west of Sakassou and Tiébissou, mainly in the village of Kondorobo. Before the lake was flooded by the creation of the Kossou dam, this village was not far from the Guériafla Guro. Indeed, one morphological element – the sculpting of the mouth – is typical of Kondorobo artists, but unlike the Guro style. Delicately chiselled, slightly parted although closed3, it points forward, presenting full and sensuous lips, though carved into the surface before being slowly sanded with leaves from a plant in the ficus genus4. A fairly similar approach to the mouth can be seen among sculptors from a sub-group based nearby, the Ayahu5.
A rare feature that appears here, which the artist has borrowed from the Yaure (who also live on the right bank of the Bandama but further south), are the affixed brass strips. This addition, by reinforcing the impression of a being focused inward, becomes a symbol of prestige, an emblem of opulence that intensifies the feeling of secrecy and confers additional grandeur – the Baule, after all, treated brass as a substitute for gold. When polished with a leaf containing acidic sap, brass even had a reputation for shining more in the sun, glowing against the patina of the wood and its dark coating, obtained from a tree root (dyamela6) which produces a dark colour when crushed. Two narrow incisions have been made in the metal and in the wood, allowing the wearer to see, and he is guided by his akotos, his assistants, around him. But instead of nailing the brass plaques to the cheeks (in the shape of triangles, as in the famous Yaure mask in the former Paul Guillaume collection from 1919 to 19357 (Musée du quai Branly, Paris, France Inventory: 73.1965.9.2), the artist has ingeniously fixed them using copper wire, in a double crescent on the lowered lids, as if to protect them. This exceptional technique replaces the technique sometimes seen of colouring the eyelids in a lighter color.
This appropriation is in no way surprising. Having lived without masks in their original region (with the Ashanti in Ghana, for whom the use of masks was completely unknown), on arrival on the left bank of the Bandama in successive migrations from the 17th century, the Baule (as they readily admit) appropriated the use of masks from the indigenous populations who had long lived in the center of Côte d’Ivoire, the Wan, Mona, Koyaga, Yaure8 and Guro peoples. Although they borrowed the idea of human face masks from those peoples, the Baule abandoned their sacred value, their intrinsic symbolic and mythical purpose, giving them a new diametrically opposed role of masks for simple entertainment, the appropriation having led to a reversal in usage. And they replaced the lost religious meaning with inordinate ornamental value, amplifying the ostentatious characteristics of human beauty and allowing aestheticism alone to confer prestige on the effigies. The mask suddenly took on primordial importance for them. According to their novel view of society, it became a "portrait-mask” (ndoma, meaning "replica", “likeness”, “duplicate”), evoking a village figure celebrated for their beauty or social role. They are still in use today, following other masks, in daytime secular celebrations held in public. It is part of a series of six or seven masks given various names, according to sub-groups: gbagba, mblo in the area around Yamoussoukro, ngblo near Tiébissou, ajusu or ajemele in the Béoumi region, etc. In contrast to the sacred helmets worn by men (or bonu amuin), this portrait-mask, while not attempting to be a copy, emphasises the vigour of a character conforming to a typology, in order to provide an idealised representation, in order to symbolise an individual’s reputation. Above all, it offers striking proof that Baule artists did not tirelessly carve deities, spirits and mythical beings, and that masterpieces of portraiture are not the sole preserve of the West.
1For more information on these scarifications, see Alain-Michel Boyer, Le Corps Africain, Paris, Editions Hazan, 2007, p. 17-19.
2These are the artistic characteristics of Guro masks, and Baule masks influenced by the Guros, which so impressed and fascinated Modigliani as a painter, but above all as a sculptor – more than the Baule masks, which are mentioned too often in relation to the Italian artist from Montparnasse.
3Indicating that this mask cannot be a goli kpwan, since if it were the eyes would not be pierced and instead the dancer, wearing the mask higher on the forehead, would look through the mouth opening.
4Scientific name: Ficus exasperata, also called “Sandpaper leaf tree”
5For more information on an Ayahu mask, see an example recently sold by Sotheby’s. Catalogue: “Baule double-mask, Côte-d’Ivoire”, Sotheby’s, Arts d’Afrique et d’Océanie, Paris, 24 June 2015, p. 50-59.
6Scientific name unknown.
7Now in the Musée du Quai Branly, Paris. See the reproduction in KERCHACHE (Jacques) et al., L’Art Africain, Paris, Citadelles-Mazenod, 1988, p. 131, pl. 67.
8For more information on these influences, see Alain-Michel Boyer, The Sacred, the Secret, On the Wan, the Mona and the Koyaka of Côte d’Ivoire, English Translator: Jane Todd. Geneva, Cultural Foundation Musée Barbier-Mueller-Vacheron-Constantin, 2011.
In 1923, at Galerie Percier, with whom I used to collaborate — I was close to many artists, art lovers and dealers; some of them were interested and already collected fetishes and tribal art objects : Picasso, Lhote, Miré, Tzara, Breton, André Level, Henri Clouzot, André Lefèvre, Alferd Richet, Dr. Girardin, Paul Guillaume, Hessel, etc.
At the time, we mainly saw African objects: Belgian Congo, Middle Congo, Ivory Coast, etc. These were my first encounters with ‘primitive’ art. Gabon, Oceanic and American arts came later for us, during the time of the huge Surrealist wave and vogue.
I admire every beautiful production of ‘primitive’ arts, but I prefer African art above all.
Why? Maybe because I feel it is closer to my conception of plasticity; it is often animistic, but never completely decorative nor teratological. Also, maybe because their aesthetic styles, which are continued through a ritual tradition, unyielding in each African region, make me think about sculptors of the 12th, 13th and 14th centuries for whom religious emotion made their practices something like the occult, with a kind of magical power: In these two seemingly polar opposites – medieval art of Europe and ceremonial art of Africa – we find emotion, humility and mysticism as a result of the white sculptor’s and the black sculptor’s ‘State of Grace’.
I’m touched by the objects’ form and signification. For me, sculpturally and aesthetically, form and signification are inseparable. A form which is merely descriptive without symbolism is poor; it is a nebulous form, basically meaningless (a priori, abstract painting and sculpture). Conventional writing in cuneiform, Chinese, Hebraic, and so forth, are only tools exclusively understood through our perfunctory channels of communication.
The language of form, is quite exemplary through our use of sight to communicate, starting from natural realm of living beings and other things. Artists today deeply transgress this reality, bypassing tribal traditional rituals and the potential sovereignty of the fetish itself, or of this ancestor portrait or of that ritual mask.
Since 1923, and my first impression of African art, no commentary or essay about ‘primitive’ arts, their aesthetic, their magic or their meaning has changed my point of view on this subject.
Portrait, Ndoma, mask by the "Kondorobo Master"
Contrary to the image of Baule art as homogenous and consistent, this magnificent and unique mask reflects the porousness of “ethnic” boundaries, through which diverse artistic influences pass freely.
The typical Baule composition is adopted here; the arrangement of the face gives a sense of peaceful internal concentration: it is clearly structured around the straight line of the bridge of the nose, while the dual arches of the brows, each of which begins at the top of the nose and continues down the sides of the face until they merge into the edge of the almost flat cheeks, with those soft curves outlining a subtle heart shape. Meanwhile, the headdress (of a type called tré ba), arranged in three arches reflecting those of the eyes, is the ultimate in refinement. Its series of interwoven braids, plaited across the head, are carved in such a way as to suggest filigree spaces with an astonishing variety of juxtaposed and interlaced ridges; incisions, triangles and lozenges transform the hair into a wreath, surmounted by two crowning plaits (ko glo). Clearly identifying this mask as the work of a brilliant Baule sculptor, the scarifications (or baule ngole, "Baule trademarks"1 increase its ceremonial eminence and are marks of social distinction. These perfect signatures are distributed in a simple symmetrical arrangement, two series on each temple and at the corners of the lips, two horizontal lines forming a square above the bridge of the nose, and three protruding ridges at the top of the forehead alongside two rectangles.
Conversely, some stylistic elements are characteristic of influences from the other side of the River Bandama. Consider the relatively narrow chin and smooth face – elongated at the bottom, narrower at the jaws. Likewise, the fluidity of formation and the tension of form – both of which come to bear as the pronounced elongation of the oblong head gives way to a reflective high forehead – are features specific to the masks of the nearby northern Guro, on the right bank of the river, in Guériafla and Maminigui. These artistic characteristics2, which give this Baule mask exceptional breadth and indicate that it is the work of an artist from the Baule sub-group of the Warébo, who live in Baule territory to the west of Sakassou and Tiébissou, mainly in the village of Kondorobo. Before the lake was flooded by the creation of the Kossou dam, this village was not far from the Guériafla Guro. Indeed, one morphological element – the sculpting of the mouth – is typical of Kondorobo artists, but unlike the Guro style. Delicately chiselled, slightly parted although closed3, it points forward, presenting full and sensuous lips, though carved into the surface before being slowly sanded with leaves from a plant in the ficus genus4. A fairly similar approach to the mouth can be seen among sculptors from a sub-group based nearby, the Ayahu5.
A rare feature that appears here, which the artist has borrowed from the Yaure (who also live on the right bank of the Bandama but further south), are the affixed brass strips. This addition, by reinforcing the impression of a being focused inward, becomes a symbol of prestige, an emblem of opulence that intensifies the feeling of secrecy and confers additional grandeur – the Baule, after all, treated brass as a substitute for gold. When polished with a leaf containing acidic sap, brass even had a reputation for shining more in the sun, glowing against the patina of the wood and its dark coating, obtained from a tree root (dyamela6) which produces a dark colour when crushed. Two narrow incisions have been made in the metal and in the wood, allowing the wearer to see, and he is guided by his akotos, his assistants, around him. But instead of nailing the brass plaques to the cheeks (in the shape of triangles, as in the famous Yaure mask in the former Paul Guillaume collection from 1919 to 19357 (Musée du quai Branly, Paris, France Inventory: 73.1965.9.2), the artist has ingeniously fixed them using copper wire, in a double crescent on the lowered lids, as if to protect them. This exceptional technique replaces the technique sometimes seen of colouring the eyelids in a lighter color.
This appropriation is in no way surprising. Having lived without masks in their original region (with the Ashanti in Ghana, for whom the use of masks was completely unknown), on arrival on the left bank of the Bandama in successive migrations from the 17th century, the Baule (as they readily admit) appropriated the use of masks from the indigenous populations who had long lived in the center of Côte d’Ivoire, the Wan, Mona, Koyaga, Yaure8 and Guro peoples. Although they borrowed the idea of human face masks from those peoples, the Baule abandoned their sacred value, their intrinsic symbolic and mythical purpose, giving them a new diametrically opposed role of masks for simple entertainment, the appropriation having led to a reversal in usage. And they replaced the lost religious meaning with inordinate ornamental value, amplifying the ostentatious characteristics of human beauty and allowing aestheticism alone to confer prestige on the effigies. The mask suddenly took on primordial importance for them. According to their novel view of society, it became a "portrait-mask” (ndoma, meaning "replica", “likeness”, “duplicate”), evoking a village figure celebrated for their beauty or social role. They are still in use today, following other masks, in daytime secular celebrations held in public. It is part of a series of six or seven masks given various names, according to sub-groups: gbagba, mblo in the area around Yamoussoukro, ngblo near Tiébissou, ajusu or ajemele in the Béoumi region, etc. In contrast to the sacred helmets worn by men (or bonu amuin), this portrait-mask, while not attempting to be a copy, emphasises the vigour of a character conforming to a typology, in order to provide an idealised representation, in order to symbolise an individual’s reputation. Above all, it offers striking proof that Baule artists did not tirelessly carve deities, spirits and mythical beings, and that masterpieces of portraiture are not the sole preserve of the West.
1For more information on these scarifications, see Alain-Michel Boyer, Le Corps Africain, Paris, Editions Hazan, 2007, p. 17-19.
2These are the artistic characteristics of Guro masks, and Baule masks influenced by the Guros, which so impressed and fascinated Modigliani as a painter, but above all as a sculptor – more than the Baule masks, which are mentioned too often in relation to the Italian artist from Montparnasse.
3Indicating that this mask cannot be a goli kpwan, since if it were the eyes would not be pierced and instead the dancer, wearing the mask higher on the forehead, would look through the mouth opening.
4Scientific name: Ficus exasperata, also called “Sandpaper leaf tree”
5For more information on an Ayahu mask, see an example recently sold by Sotheby’s. Catalogue: “Baule double-mask, Côte-d’Ivoire”, Sotheby’s, Arts d’Afrique et d’Océanie, Paris, 24 June 2015, p. 50-59.
6Scientific name unknown.
7Now in the Musée du Quai Branly, Paris. See the reproduction in KERCHACHE (Jacques) et al., L’Art Africain, Paris, Citadelles-Mazenod, 1988, p. 131, pl. 67.
8For more information on these influences, see Alain-Michel Boyer, The Sacred, the Secret, On the Wan, the Mona and the Koyaka of Côte d’Ivoire, English Translator: Jane Todd. Geneva, Cultural Foundation Musée Barbier-Mueller-Vacheron-Constantin, 2011.