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  Ernst Wagner

  

  On the left construction of the horizon and vanishing point, on the right with the viewer inserted (visualisations by the author)

   

  With the help of this grid, he succeeds in creating a way of convincing representation, an interpretation that photography (invented almost 400 years later) would also deliver. I.e. a representation that is ‘correct’ in terms of perspective.

   

  The woodcut itself also follows this principle of ‘correct’ linear perspective. The horizon is marked as the sea horizon in the right-hand window; the  vanishing point  of the grid lying on this horizon. This vanishing point also assigns a specific, clearly determined space to the viewer's eye. It is at the same height as the depicted artist, and on the right, the ‘male side’ of the image. In this way, the viewer is not only a witness to the event, but also a confidant and accomplice of the drawer / the artist.

   

  In terms of composition, the symmetrical layout is particularly striking. As in a coat of arms, we see two equal-sized fields on the left and right, divided by the grid frame. In both parts, two windows, also of the same size - each with a view to the outside.

   

   

  Subdivision according to centre lines, additionally thirds. The vanishing point is on the right perpendicular.

   

  In the left part of this emblematic image, the woman. The flowing cloth emphasises her nakedness rather than covering it. She is bedded on soft cushions, 'lying according to the artist's will' (to speak with Dürer in his accompanying text). Her raised lap turned towards the man, her eyes look closed, her left hand rests on her thigh. The table on which she lies works as a presentation plate.

   

  Dichotomies

  With this composition, the image formulates an almost striking dichotomy. To name just a few aspects that are particularly significant in our context:

   

  Woman: naked and thus ahistoric, i.e. "timeless", with closed eyes and diffuse spatial orientation.	Man: clothed and armed, watching closely, focused on the woman in front of him.
  Woman: In her passivity she has a powerful presence in the picture; she is - lying - the theme (the object) of the emerging drawing.	Man: He is actively engaged, sitting, taking action. He is an individual subject, drawing the ‘object’ on paper.
  In the window: 'free', lively nature.	In the window: reduced nature, mostly just the horizon line.
  Tall, naturally growing trees outside in the open air.	One small, domesticated and cultivated 'tree' in a pot, indoor.

   

  This dichotomy is not only emphasised by the narrow format and the symmetrical layout, but above all by the clear separation of the two ‘worlds’, which is achieved by means of the grid frame, i.e. an important tool in (Dürer’s) art. This again cements the structure of distance established by the artist: On the right, the male attention to the woman is conceived as (and through this reduced to) distanced looking and the spellbinding drawing of what he sees. The woman, on the other hand, presents herself - against a lively backdrop - as the ‘target object’ behind the frame. In this way, however, it is not only the clichéd gender roles being fixed, gender roles as they will be significant throughout the next centuries. But there is more at stake.

   

  Panofsky had characterised this kind of linear perspective "as a symbol of a beginning, when modern anthropocracy was setting itself up" (1980: 126). That perspective initially puts the world at a distance. Above all, it opposes ‘subject’ and ‘object’ to each other in a clearly separated way. The aim of this procedure and the underlying model of thinking is to make the world 'calculable' in a 'modern' way: At last, even in a picture, one can say whether a line, a shape is right or wrong. The world is thus degraded to a supplier of 'appearance data' (Rebel 1996: 198). The data selected are now recorded - through a technical procedure - by the isolated and disembodied eye. In this process, the eye is the representative of a specific 'pictorial intellectuality'. Dürer emphasises: "the eye is the noblest sense of all" (Rebel 1996: 200). This gives the rational mind the decisive role, which becomes the ‘signature’ of the Renaissance. And, perspective is its symbolic form, its paradigm. Linear perspective represents "the world as it can be in the idea alone. It constructs the world" (Belting 2008: 27) according to cognitive principles.

   

  In the woodcut, this rational, intellectual way of seeing belongs to the man. The woman, on the other hand, has her eyes closed, she does not look. (She is looked at.) With regard to the anthropocratic claim of the (male) rational mind, woman (as a sensually tangible allegory) thus becomes the indeterminate, unmarked “Other” (Latour 2017: 38). Ultimately she becomes the representative of the natural: she is naked, ‘as nature created her’ and thus timeless, i.e. untouched by a specific contemporaneity. She must - in order to become visible - be 'captured' by the man on the right, who has an individual face and is dressed in a contemporary manner.

   

  Above all, the specific form of relationship of the two sides to each other are decisive for our question. As already shown, we find here a clear subject-object relation. The man (who represents civilisation, culture, the domestication of nature) is the active, acting, looking, mentally grasping subject who now ‘subjects’ the woman as a passive object to his artistic appropriation (and through this the 'naked', non-civilised nature that is embodied by her).

   

  Latour points out that this conception is specifically European: "What occidental painting invented [...] and of which no trace can be found in any other civilisation" (Latour 2017: 38). From there, there is an striking parallel to the conquest of the "New World" by European powers in colonialism, as the image below shows.

   

  

  Theodor Galle/Jan van der Straet. Vespucci discovers America.1589. (https://www.deutsche-digitale-bibliothek.de/item/C6QXUXQLVIKAIVADBOAJ7ZM3WXLWTVT5)

   

  References

  • Belting 2008: Hans Belting. Florenz und Bagdad – Eine westöstliche Geschichte des Blicks. München (Beck)
  • Latour 2017: Bruno Latour. Kampf um Gaia. Berlin (Suhrkamp)
  • Panofsky 1980: Erwin Panofsky. Die Perspektive als „symbolische“ Form. In: Erwin Panofsky. Aufsätze zu Grundfragen der Kunstwissenschaft. Berlin (Volker Spiess)
  • Rebel 1996: Ernst Rebel. Albrecht Dürer, Maler und Humanist. München (Bertelsmann)
  • Zur Lippe 1981: Rudolf zur Lippe. Naturbeherrschung am Menschen. Bd. 1. Frankfurt (Syndikat)

   

   

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  Bernadette Van Haute

  Lawrence Lemaoana’s work, entitled SILENCE … FALLS (2017) consists of Kanga fabric with cotton embroidery, measuring 155 x 115 cm. Lemaoana is a South African black male, born in Johannesburg in 1982, who lives and works in Johannesburg. The work serves as an example of the ways in which young black artists in South Africa aim to express a specific South African identity which appeals to the global art world. 

   

  The use of Kanga fabric as medium is in itself very significant. Lemaoana states that: "Kanga fabrics [...] are used extensively in my work. Manufactured in the East, and brought to South Africa to be sold in markets and bazaars, the journey of the fabrics speaks of the idiosyncrasies and trade imbalances of globalisation. The textiles themselves though have a wholly different life in South Africa – they are regarded as significant markers of spiritual healing, imbued with great religious and spiritual power, used by diviners and fortune-tellers." (Afronova)

   

  The Kanga cloth is “used specifically in Emandzawe rituals, both as clothing for the sangoma [diviner] performing the ritual and as cloth on the shrine inside the shrine room in which the ritual takes place” (von Veh, 2017, pp. 13-14). The use of this fabric thus establishes Lemaoana’s identification with both global culture and black African culture which does not belong to a mythical past but is still very much alive today. His own familiarity with the sangoma becomes clear when he maintains that the ambiguity of the traditional healer’s utterings parallels that of headlines in the news media. He also exploits the deeper meaning embedded in the three colours white, red and black to heighten the impact of his highly topical messages.

   

  Lemaoana’s work is inspired by current socio-political events and the way in which they are reported in the local media. The composition Silence Falls evokes the #RhodesMustFall movement which began in 2015. This demonstrates the artist’s concern with the plight of the South African youth and his identity as an artist born in the 1980s – the so-called ‘born-frees’ who did not actually experience the ‘struggle’. The works of this generation of artists are described as “symptomatic of the new identity issues of the post-apartheid era. This young generation is appropriating a history that it believes has been confiscated and twisted in order to develop an alternative that takes into account its own subjective experience. Conscious of their responsibilities, these artists are helping to formulate and affirm a specific South African identity” (Pagé and Scherf, 2017, p. 8).  

   

  Lemaoana expresses his concern with socio-political issues through a critical engagement with mass media in South Africa. He is particularly concerned by the ability of the local media to shape social consciousness. By isolating news headlines and appropriating political slogans in his very own cynical way he “turns didactic and propagandistic tools on their head” (Afronova). As Lepage (2017, p. 117) states, Lemaoana uses the power of “words as favoured instruments in the political struggle”.

   

  The importance of Lemaoana’s work is vested in his participation in the Fondation Louis Vuitton exhibition in Paris in 2017. The exhibition was divided in three parts; the first one was entitled Being there: South Africa, a contemporary scene and aimed to show South African vitality through the works of 16 artists. In the accompanying catalogue the curators Suzanne Pagé and Angeline Scherf (2017, p. 8) explained that their choice of artists was “based primarily on the action of the artists themselves, on their engagement with the current economic and social institutions, their awareness and conviction that they can act and play a role: BEING THERE”.

   

  Interestingly the curators also comment on the fact that this younger generation of artists, in the context of ongoing economic and social divisions more than two decades after the end of Apartheid, sees it as its mission to transform “disenchantment into the energy for renewal” (Pagé and Scherf, 2017, p. 8). Achille Mbembe (2017, p. 16) elaborates on the current tensions in South African politics and culture which have led to a stalemate. In a society where consumption has become the quintessential state of being, the visual arts are in crisis, characterised by radical fragmentation and dispersion of reality (Mbembe 2017, pp. 23-24). “What is needed in contemporary South African arts”, writes Mbembe (2017, p. 24), “are concepts with which to seek out the real … . This will not happen without a new collective imagination that will help to facilitate the passage from the past and present to the future”.

   

  This is what Lemaoana has achieved in his art. His participation in the show confirms his status as a contemporary South African artist who has managed to decolonise his art by “seeking out the real” and grounding it in a local or national context. Furthermore, in Lemaoana’s works there is no room for, what Mbembe (2017, p. 25) calls, “tropes of pain and suffering” or the injuries inflicted “by the forces of racism and patriarchy” – tropes that are the characteristic traps of postcolonial discourse. His art is decolonised in the sense that all the resources of cultural and artistic modernity – both in terms of medium and narrative – have been mobilised in order to render itself more relevant to a modern Africa and a global humanity (Ekpo, 2017, p. 20).

   

   

  References

  • Afronova. http://www.afronova.com/artists/lawrence-lemaoana-2/ (accessed on September 19, 2017).
  • Ekpo, D. (2017). Manifesto for a Post-African art. Unpublished keynote address presented at the SAVAH Conference, Tshwane University of Technology, South Africa, September 21 – 23, 2017.
  • Lepage, A. (2017). Lawrence Lemaoana. In S. Pagé & A. Scherf (Eds.), Being there: South Africa, a contemporary scene (pp. 116-21). Paris: Fondation Louis Vuitton and Editions Dilecta.
  • Mbembe, A. (2017). Difference and repetition. Reflections on South Africa today. In S. Pagé & A. Scherf (Eds.), Being there: South Africa, a contemporary scene (pp. 15-25). Paris: Fondation Louis Vuitton and Editions Dilecta.
  • Pagé, S. & Scherf, A. (Eds.). (2017). Being there: South Africa, a contemporary scene. Exhibition catalogue. Paris: Fondation Louis Vuitton and Editions Dilecta.
  • von Veh, K. (2017). Textual Textiles: Gender and Political Parodies in the Work of Lawrence Lemaoana, TEXTILE,1-19. doi: 10.1080/14759756.2017.1337381 (Accessed September 5, 2017).

   

   

  published March 2020

   

   

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  Kerstin Pinther

  Moulding Tradition (2009) is a work done by the designers Andrea Trimarchi and Simone Farresin of Studio Formafantasma: It consists of a group of five ceramics in different shapes and forms: boat-like bowls of various sizes, vases and bottles. Some of the maiolica objects display special attributes which refer to the sea and to rescue operations on the water such as a pair of paddles and lifebuoys. Others use ribbons, printed with historical and immigration data, to tie framed photographs and other ‘décor’ to the vessels. The project is informed by the tin-glazed maiolica from Caltagirone in Sicily – itself a result of the encounter with (Moorish) Islamic ceramic traditions in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, which in the following centuries triggered a technical and content-related process of adaptation. From the early modern age onwards, maiolica thus became “an excellent indicator and agent of design transmission across the globe” (Ajmar-Wollheim/Molà 2011, 17).

   

  Among the ceramic vessels being produced up till now is the genre of the so-called teste di moro – vases that in a stereotypical, often grotesque and derogative manner depict the faces of people referred to as either ‘African’ or as ‘Arabic.’ In their original form as busts they most probably date back to the seventeenth century, when they were used as flowerpots to decorate balconies and terraces, suggesting an exuberant vegetation. By replacing this generic image with a black-and-white photograph of a known and thus named immigrant from Nigeria, Sofien Adeyemi, Andrea Trimarchi and Simone Farresin update the references and create a link to recent migration movements. A flask with an attached ceramic tile lists the names of the countries Adeyemi has traveled through on his way from West Africa to Italy. His (multiplied) portrait together with written information on present-day migration policies is attached to the ceramic form, thus literally adding a new level of meaning. Yet another  wine bottle recalls fruit picking, predominantly done by migrant workers under harsh and exploitative conditions.

   

  By introducing further elements of reality in traditional forms, Formafantasma with Moulding Tradition create complex discourses on the historical and present-day entanglements between Africa and Europe and the imbalance in their economic and political conditions. According to the designers, “contemporary public opinion polls have claimed that 65% of Italians believe that the immigrants are ‘a danger for our culture.’” In this context Moulding Tradition speaks of the blind spots of contemporary culture: Neither the explicit transcultural character of the maiolica which had contributed to – if not established – the fame of Caltagirone’s craft tradition is valued, nor are the descendants of those who once introduced this new ceramic technique welcomed. Moulding Tradition also alludes to the fact that in the most recent age of globalization nearly everything – data, information, images, objects – is free-flowing, but some people’s movements from specific geographies are monitored and restricted. Thus, it questions the ideology of cultural segregation and confronts it with the factual migration of people and goods as well as with the various historical entanglements. Furthermore, Moulding Tradition, for which the designers cooperated with a local craftsperson, can also be read as a comment on the role of craft in contemporary society as well as on the question of how craft is sometimes “locked into a tradition repeating [moulding, author’s note] the same objects over and over again” (Studio Formafantasma 2015). In order to counter this tendency, the designers left their products with a kind of raw surface, since normally maiolica ceramic is painted in bold colors after being dried thoroughly. In the case of Formafantasma’s maiolica, the objects remain ‘unfinished’ – a (blank) space to metaphorically be worked on and to open up a debate. Thus, Moulding Tradition stands for Studio Formafantasma’s conceptual and critical design-thinking approach. In this approach, the duo relies on textual information as well as on the haptic and aesthetic qualities of the substances they use: “[M]aterials are not only functional but also have the ability to evoke memories or to testify historical knowledge” (Studio Formafantasma 2015).

   

  The authors of Global Design History make clear how the most recent phase of globalization not only accelerates flows of people, images, information, commodities and capital, but also contributes to the various types of exclusion and border control regimes (Adamson, et al. 2010, 1f.). At a time when design is becoming increasingly politicized, the question of how designers respond to the hitherto biggest wave of flight and migration in the years 2015/16 becomes obvious. Indeed, similar to Moulding Tradition, there are other design objects as well as works at the interface of design and art which can be seen as tools for reflecting on migration and flight. In using design as a tool, the migrancy reference can often be found on more than only one level. Besides its content-related presence, it is also tangible via the objects’ materiality or techniques, which for their part often bear traces of mobility and cultural transfer. Thus, these objects speak strongly to the historical and cultural migration of forms.

   

  References

  • Adamson, Glenn, et al., editors. Global Design History. Routledge, 2011.
  • Ajmar-Wollheim, Marta, and Luca Molà. “The Global Renaissance. Cross-cultural Objects in the Early Modern Period.” Global Design History, edited by Glenn Adamson, Giorgio Riello and Sarah Teasly, Routledge, 2011, pp. 11–20.
  • Studio Formafantasma. “Studio Formafantasma on Words as a Tool for Design.” Design Indaba Conference, Talk on November 3^rd 2015, http://www.designindaba.com/videos/conference-talks/studio-formafantasma-words-tool-design.

   

  published February 2020

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  Patrique deGraft-Yankson

  We may be right to assume that the level of awareness just at a little over four years of its implementation should not be too alarming. However, analyzing such low level of SDGs awareness among a people a country whose president is a Co-Chair of the Eminent Group of Sustainable Development Goals Advocates in Africa leaves some cause to worry.

   

  The good news however is that, not being directly aware of the SDGs in the way they have been blueprinted does not mean the people are insensitive to its calls and claims. The fact is that, most of the demands of the SDGs are already embedded in the culture and belief systems of the people, and I consider this as an important resource to deploy for awareness creation and enthusiastic implementation of the SDGs.

   

  For the realization of UNs commitment to leave no one behind in the mobilization of the citizens of the world to achieve the 2030 agenda (UN, 2020) therefore, I am of the belief that efforts at linking the relevance of the 17 goals to cultural manifestations of the people should be highly considered. The image shown above is a demonstration of how various traditional symbols speaks to the SDGs in a language which is understood by the traditional Ghanaian. These symbols transcend language barriers and their meanings are inherent within their traditional belief systems, making the goals both physically and spiritually relevant to people.

   

  The meanings of the symbols are as follows:

   

  	Ese Ne Tekrema (The teeth and the tongue) Symbol of generosity towards one another. Through the formation of a linear relationship in diversity towards a common goal, both the personal and societal needs of the people will be realized.
  	Funtumfunafu Denkyemfunafu (Siamese/conjoined crocodiles) Symbol of brotherly feeling, caring and sharing. The society stays stronger when people coexist in the belief that we all smile and grow together when we feed and enjoy the good things in life together.
  	Dua Afe (Wooden comb) Symbol of sanitation, cleanliness and beauty. This symbol reechoes the essence of physical and spiritual wellbeing through personal and environmental cleanliness.
  	Nea Onnim No Sua a, Ohu (Anyone who does not know is capable of ‘knowing’ through education) Symbol of educational opportunities. This symbol plays down ignorance by reminding people of their inert capabilities to get educated to any level of their preference. In other words, opportunities for quality education exist for all.
  	Obi Nka Bi (No one bites the other) Symbol of equal regard, recognition and treatment for all. No one bites the other as a value ensures that all genders and age groupings have equal rights for existence in the society which allow them to listen and be listened.
  	Sesa Wo Suban (Change your life) Symbol of deterrence and admonition towards all unapproved societal behaviors that affect the natural environment. This symbol represents strong advocacy for transformation and dynamic life patterns that affect nature. One of the unacceptable life patterns this symbol is currently addressing is the Ghanaian youth’s preference for wealth through illegal mining which destroys precious water bodies
  	Pempasie (Sew in readiness) Symbol of production and sustainability. This symbol emphasizes the importance of societal preparedness and readiness for the future through effective production and management of all resources for posterity.
  	Aya (Fern) Symbol of resourcefulness through resilience, self-reliance, hard work and judicious engagement of the environment and its resources.
  	Nkyimkyim (Twisting) Symbol of collective action towards the building of the human society through initiative, dynamism, versatility, innovation and resilience. Indeed, building a successful society, like life itself, is not a smooth journey. The journey of life is tortuous and it requires a great amount of innovation and creativity to sail through.
  	Nkonsonkonson (Chain) A symbol of unity. This symbol, depicting two links in a chain, advocates for the need to heal the componentized society since in unity lies strength.
  	Eban (Fence) A symbol of love, safety and security. The fence symbolically secures and protects the family from unhealthy activities outside of it.
  	Hwehwe Mu Dua (Measuring stick) Symbol of examination and Self/Quality Control. This symbol emphasizes the need for circumspection in all human endeavors. It directs attention to self and quality control in everything including production and consumption. It admonishes against over consumption, over production and all forms of egoistic instincts and behaviors which adversely affect the general good of the society.
  	Nyame Biribi Wo Soro (God resides in the heavens) Symbol of reverence to the heavens, the abode of the Supreme Being. Recognition to the ‘heavens’, or the skies as the residence of the supreme being is tied to the belief that all good things come from the heavens – rains, sunshine, fresh air, etc. The ‘heavens’ need to be respected for continuous flow of life-given goodies.
  	Ananse Ntentan (Spider’s Web) Symbol of knowledge and wisdom about the complexities of life. This symbol alludes to the intricate personality of Ananse, the spider, a well-known character in Ghanaian/African folktales. In Ananse’s world, all facets of life need to be somehow manipulated, positively or negatively, for good or bad reasons. This sometimes led him to dire situation. Ananse therefore is a character for admonitions and reprimanding. Being conscious about the character of Ananse guides your steps against any unfair treatment to the world around you, be it the skies, on the land, in the waters or below the waters.
  	Asase Ye Duru (The Earth/Land is heavy) Symbol for reverence and recognition to the providence and the divinity of the ‘Earth/Land’ and everything associated with it. The ‘Earth’ is the mother to everything. It carries the entire humanity, trees, water bodies, the sea (and what is in it and beneath it), big and small animals, etc. This why it is described as ‘heavy’. Respect/reverence to the Land is respect/reverence to life.
  	Mpatapo (Knot of Pacification/Reconciliation) Symbol of bonding and adjudicatory factor which brings back parties in a dispute to a peaceful, harmonious and reconciliatory coexistence to ensure unified and strong societies and institutions.
  	Ti Koro Nko Agyina (One Head does not forma Council) Symbol for partnership, collaboration and teamwork. This symbol emphasizes the importance of cooperation and collective efforts in the realization of all goals. Obviously, the attainment of the SDGs is a collective responsibility. No one nation (one head) can make it happen. It takes the concerted efforts of the entire citizenship of the world.

   

  Bibliography

  • Adinkra Brand, A. (2020, November 15). African adinkra symbols and meanings. Retrieved from Adinkra Brand: https://www.adinkrabrand.com/blog/african-adinkra-symbols-and-meanings/
  • Kasahorow Adinkra Library, K. A. (2020, November 15). Adinkra symbols and meanings. Retrieved from Kasahorow Adinkra Library: https://www.adinkrasymbols.org/symbols/nkyinkyim/
  • United Nations, U. (2020, December 7). Sustainable Development. Retrieved from Uited Nations: https://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/development-agenda-retired/

   

   

  published January 2021

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  Ebenezer Kwabena Acquah

  Historical link between the Ga and the Yoruba

  It is believed that the Ga-Adangbe came from Ile Ife at Yorubaland in Nigeria through Seme, a settlement on the border between Nigeria and Republic of Benin of today. According to popular oral traditions, the groups migrated together crossing the Mono River but scattered after crossing the Volta River (Nortey, 2012). They settled on the Accra plains within the south eastern corner of Ghana (Kilson, 1974). Their initial administrative capital was Ayawaso but was later moved to Accra, as Ghana gained its independence in 1957 and Accra became the capital city of Ghana.

   

  Indigenous belief system among the Ga and Yoruba

  The Ga, like other ethnic groups in Ghana and Nigeria, believe in life after death. They demonstrate this belief through comprehensive funeral rites. The type of occupation the deceased engaged in on earth while alive is believed to continue in the next world and as such a coffin is carved to depict the work of the deceased for their burial. The Ga, just like the Yoruba people, belong to Islam, to Christian faith or to traditional religious beliefs (Leroy, Olaleye-Oruene, Koeppen-Schomerus, & Byrant, 2002). They believe in the immortality of the soul and on its re-birth, which are both essential to the Ibeji twin belief.

   

  The Ibeji sculptural figures in perspective and their aesthetic considerations

  The Ibeji figures among the Yoruba provide an insight into the recognition of twins within the Yoruba society. The visual sculptural form presents the viewer with a glimpse of what the Yoruba society cherishes through the lens of visual culture. The two figures are presented in semi-abstract forms showing a male and a female (based on genital characteristics). It also shows the relevance of beads in body adornment as found in their usage in the form of necklace, wrist-bands, and waist-bands. On the heads of the figures are scarifications (marks on the body) and both figures are holding a string of cowries.

   

  Cowries were extensively used during pre-colonial times in Africa as symbol of wealth and used as currency and medium of exchange, for symbolic messages, as objects of divination, as jewelry and as a religious accessory, as well as a powerful force that represents the eye of the gods and the womb of the goddess (Yiridoe, 1995; Wayne, 2010; Odunbaku, 2012). Also, the projection of the breasts of one figure is an indication of a female with youthful exuberance.

   

  The pronounced shapes in the figures are curves with minor angular forms in feet and ears. Both figures also show projecting and rounded forehead which are basic characteristics of many African figures. The head-gear is cylindrical and this is similar to that of the Dipo initiates among the Krobo of Ghana who are related to the Dangme.

   

  Though the basics of African aesthetic differ across cultures, the common ones would include symbolism, togeth­erness, luminosity, craftsmanship, self-composure, and youthfulness (Molokwane, 2010; Vogel 1986). In the Ibeji figures, it is envisaged that a culture of teamwork was involved in the production process, from the felling of the tree through carving to the finishing of the statuettes, building a sense of communal unity. The craftsmen usually work with a master-craftsman. In terms of craftsmanship, the figures are sculpted intricately, with exquisite details, body adornment, and to excellent finish that has made them stand the test of time.

   

  Symbolism is embedded into traditionally African made objects and the Ibeji figures are no exception. They have elegant glossy finishes that portray purity and well-being/good health. The author considers the statuettes (reference to the Ibeji figures) as being young: vibrant, healthy, and a source of strength.

   

  Recognition of twins in Yoruba and Ga societies

  In many traditional African societies, twins are considered of supernatural origin and raised emotional reactions ranging from fear and dislike to hope and joy (Leroy, 1995). It is believed that twins are able to grant happiness, health and prosperity upon their family. As such, their nurture is far more venerated than that of other children (Stoll & Stoll, 1980).

   

  Another similarity in terms of belief and practice between the Ga and the Yoruba is that twins share the same combined soul, and it is envisaged that when a new-born twin dies, the life of the other is exposed because the balance of his soul has become disturbed. To forestall any danger, a special ritual is carried out. Though the Yoruba carve a small wooden figure as a symbolic substitute for the soul of the deceased twin, the Ga only perform the ritual. If both twins have died, two of these figures are made among the Yoruba. These statuettes are called Ere ibeji (from ‘ibi’, meaning born and ‘eji’, two; ere means sacred image).

   

  The Ga believe that the twins are special messengers from the Supreme god and therefore highly revered. They also believe that they could bring either a good or bad omen to the society based on the way they are treated. The Yam Festival which falls on the Friday of the Ga Homowo festival celebrated in August, presents a special occasion for twins in the Ga community who are presented with special feast in a form of sumptuous meal and mashed yam with eggs. It is honouring the twins in the traditional families (Nortey, 2012).

   

  During the Homowo festival celebration on Friday, twins carry herbal mixture (leafy concoction) called “baa woo” that is prepared in metal containers and they move through the township in a frenzied manner amid singing and chants. The special concussion is believed to induce fertility and as such people bath themselves with it with the hope of bearing twins.

   

   

   

  Unknown artist. Ibeji Twin Figures of the Yoruba. Presentation in the museum. First half of the 20th century. Wood, red chalk, cowries, glass. Height 27,5 cm. Museum Fünf Kontinente, Munich. © Museum Fünf Kontinente

  Conclusion

  The belief in reincarnation and life after death are linked to the Ga and Yoruba ancestor belief. As part of the veneration of twin in families, the Yoruba carve Ibeji figures that has symbolic and spiritual relevance among the people. Among the Ga and the Yoruba, twins are revered and honoured. Furthermore, the two societies believe that every human soul has a chance to return to earth as a new-born, mostly within the same family. The wellbeing of any family is dependent on that of its ancestors and twins. Therefore, periodic prayers/rites are said and sacrificial gifts are presented to ancestral deities, including the Ibeji figures.

   

   

  References

  • Kilson, M. (1974). African Urban Kinsmen, The Ga of Central Accra. London: C. Hurst and Co. Ltd.
  • Leroy, F. (1995). Les jumeaux dans tous leurs états. Louvain –la - Neuve [Twins in every state], Belgium: DeboeckUniversité.
  • Leroy, F., Olaleye-Oruene, T., Koeppen-Schomerus, G., & Bryan, E. (2002).  Yoruba Customs and Beliefs Pertaining to Twins. Twin Research, 5(2),132-136
  • Molokwane, S., & Shorn, B. (2002). The African aesthetic as it informs the product form. In:Computer-Based Design. Proceedings of the Engineering Design Conference, King’s College, London, 9 -11 July 2002.
  • Nortey, S. (2012). Artistic Evolutions of the Ga Mashie Twins Yam Festival and Its Cultural Implications. Arts and Design Studies, Vol. 2, 2012.
  • Odunbaku, B. J. (2012). Importance of Cowrie Shells in Pre-Colonial Yoruba land SouthWestern Nigeria : Orile- Keesi as a Case Study. International Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 2(18), 234-241.
  • Vogel, S. M. (1986). African Aesthetics. New York: Center for African Art.
  • Yiridoe, E. (1995). Economic and Sociocultural Aspects of Cowrie Currency of the Dagaaba of Northwestern Ghana Aspects. Nordic Journal of African Studies, 4(2), 17-32.

   

  This article is part of a gallery: Perspectives from Ghana on Museum Objects in Germany

  Published January 2021

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• 

  Patrique deGraft-Yankson

  Akan definition of Colour

  The Akan people have no precise terminologies that assign a ‘name’ which interprets into the meaning of colour the way it is understood in English and other languages. In other words, most of the answers to the question ‘what is colour’ makes very little meaning to a pure Akan speaker whose understanding of colour transcends a scientific definition. In spite of several efforts by contemporary linguists to subject the Akan concept of colour to nomenclatural consideration, the traditional Akan people continue to describe hues by their relationship with similar colours in nature.

  Consequently, terminologies in Akan, which are associated with the word colour, are likely to describe what a hue looks like in association with the natural (or in few occasions, manmade environment) or how a hue makes one feel, think or behave. Among numerous attempts at coming up with an Akan word for ‘colour’, the ones many respondents settled on were yɛbea, subea, su, husuo, ahusuo and bↄbea. These words, which mean almost the same in Akan, literally describe the nature, quality or, probably more precisely, the physical look/appearance of something. By implication therefore, the terminologies deduced are more general and their usage go beyond the description of just the colour of an object or a situation under discussion.

   

  Colour names

  Colour names among the Akan people, are often given directly after identifiable objects within the known environment. Therefore, names given to colour in Akan have the tendency of affecting the perception, understanding and accurate adaptation of colour among the Akan people. Name, like colour itself, has strong cultural significance. Therefore, names that are understood in one’s language are likely to have better cultural associations and connections with their people than those that sound foreign.

  In this regard, many Akan people are of the opinion that all efforts at identifying names for colours should continue with the culture of associating colours with the local names of known objects among the Akan people. For instance, if there are names such as ahabanmon (fresh leaves) for green and akokↄ serade/akokↄ aŋoa (chicken fat) for yellow, there could also be names like ahabanfunu/ahatawfun (dead leaves) for brown, gyafrane/gyanframa (fire flames) for orange, gon/dwene (gray hair) for gray, etc.

   

  Number of colours

  The number of colours recognizable by a traditional Akan are as many as those identifiable and describable in nature. As already indicated however, recognized Akan colour names and their identification are mostly in relation to those discernible in nature, for which reason their descriptions are broadly categorized. The following are colours available in the traditional Akan language.

  • Kↄkↄↄ (Red)

  To a very large extent, kↄkↄↄ, the sound of the name of the colour identified as red among the Akan people is more onomatopoeic than semantical in interpretation. Kↄↄ, the root word, visualizes the sensation of the word glow. Therefore, kↄkↄↄ actually connotes more to complexion with a strong bright colour. It commands an ambience of hot brightness, usually with scorching visual sensation, rather than a simple colour name. For this reason, kↄkↄↄ is attributable to all objects that emit some warmth in their visual ascriptions. Therefore, whilst a ripe pepper is described as kↄkↄↄ, ripe mangos, ripe oranges, glittering gold, burning coal, sunny skies, flames, the skin of a ‘white man’, etc. are all kↄkↄↄ as well. In the Akan colour scheme therefore, colours that could be placed analogous to kↄkↄↄ include red, orange, pink, wine and the like.

  • Fitaa/Fufuw (White)

  Fitaa/fufuw is white, light, plain, spotless, clean, neat, pure, holy, untainted and incorrupt. Moreover, fitaa/fufuw is always associated with cleanliness, purity, victory and spirituality. It denotates white coruscating brightness, visual spotlessness and stainlessness. No matter where it is spotted, the associated psychological and spiritual experience comes naturally, and this is inert in almost every Akan.

  Another dimension of fitaa/fufuw is its direct association with light especially when it reflects bright objects to shine. When something shines or sparkles, or hyerɛn as it would be said in Akan, it is associated with brightness and for that matter, white. In this regard, a spark that would be lighted by any colour to give the feeling of brightness will be described as fitaa. The reason is that the psychological feeling of brightness invoked by the sensation is more important than its sensation on the eye.

  • Tuntum

  One does not need to understand the word tuntum to be able to link its semantic association with weight and heaviness. Tuntum connotes darkness and visual weight, and technically expressed, all the cool colours on the colour wheel fall within the brackets of colours in this category. Tuntum connotes darkness, gloom and heaviness. To the Akan, tuntum does not only stand for black, but absence of lightness, brightness, shine, glow, gaiety, happiness and sparkle. This is not to say that tuntum in Akan spells doom. Just as with all the other colours, the reason behind its application is what matters most to the Akan. For instance, the weight and compactness of tuntum also represents unmatched strength and solidity. Hence, expressions such as black power, black beauty, black star and black magic connote the highest levels or degrees attainable in the referent condition. So, whereas tuntum or dark colours are used in the expression of gloomy and moody conditions or situations, they are also considered for situations that require seriousness, formality, deep concentration, calmness, maturity, strength and energy. Again, in its association with darkness and stillness of dark night, tuntum also connotes calmness, coolness, rest, quietness and serenity.

   

  The Akan Colour Chart: Minimal Dimensions of the Akan Colour Scheme

  The following charts present attempts at putting into perspective the minimal dimensions of the Akan colour scheme. As mentioned earlier, everything that qualifies to be described as colour from the Akan point of view can be located within three broad colour spectra—tuntum (dark), fitaa (white) and kↄkↄↄ/memen (glow, spark, shine), and they physically manifest in the shades and tints of black, white and red. Right from this point, it is clear that colour among the Akan is perceived more with feelings than just the light sensation it emits. Therefore, the colours that fall under these themes are believed to share more physiological, psychological and spiritual feelings than aesthetical feelings (even though that is an integral part). In the examples of natural colours associated with colour names in the tables below therefore, the ripeness of pepper, mango, orange and tomatoes are all described as kↄↄ, establishing the overall feeling they evoke. The greenness of a virgin forest, the darkness of rain clouds, the depth of the deep blue seas and the blackness of charcoal are all tumm or tuntum (dark) because of their command of psychological heaviness. The bright skies, the white flower, cotton and the grey hair are all fitaa because they share similar ambience and invoke the same feeling of brightness. It should also be noted that apart from tuntum (black, dark), fufuw/fitaa (white, bright) and kↄkↄↄ/memen (red, glow, spark, shine), none of the associated colours has a name in Akan. What they have, at best, could be discussed as descriptions. In other words, colours of objects are rather described than named.

   

  The following charts illustrate colour from the perspective of the participants in this study, as illustrated by the author:

  

   

  Figure 1: Akan colour category Tuntum and its natural colour associations. (Photo: the author)

   

  

   

  Figure 2: Akan colour category Fitaa/Fufuw and its natural colour associations. (Photo: the author)

  

   

  Figure 3: Akan colour category Kↄkↄↄ/Memen and its natural colour associations. (Photo: the author)

   

  From the above charts, the Akan colour reference scheme above was derived.

   

  Implications for design and design education

  Cultural understanding of colour from Akan perspectives will direct how colours could be appropriately grouped under the appropriate themes to enhance effective appreciation of design as well as effective communication. It would also ensure that the role of language and cultural interpretation of colour is given due recognition in the design education process.

   

  Reference

  • deGraft-Yankson, Patrique (2020), ‘Of the Akan people: Colour and design education in Ghana’, International Journal of Education Through Art, 16:3, pp. 399–416, doi: https://doi.org/10.1386/eta_00041_1

   

   

  published November 2020

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• 

  Prudence Lau

  State Theatre, originally named Empire Theatre, was opened in 1952. According to interviews with veterans from cultural circles, the Theatre was the “very origin of Hong Kong’s entry to the world of high arts” (South China Morning Post, Jan 11, 2017). It was Hong Kong’s cultural hub and only to be eclipsed by the City Hall that opened four years later in 1962. Located in North Point on Hong Kong Island, it was founded by a Russian-Jewish impresario Harry Odell, a legendary giant in the history of Hong Kong entertainment. Odell had started a film distribution company ‘Harry Oscar Odell’s Commonwealth Enterprises Corporation Ltd.’ in the post-war years and arranged for internationally acclaimed artists to perform in Hong Kong and in the theatre, including the late Taiwanese famous pop singer Teresa Teng, the late British tenor Peter Pears and Katherine Dunham’s Broadway dance company (South China Morning Post, March 2, 2016).

  
  The Theatre was also a popular venue for live shows such as Chinese drama, opera and musical performances. The roof of the auditorium is suspended from external parabolic concrete roof trusses, which are exposed to the public and serves as a prominent feature and trademark of the building. This ingenious design also freed the auditorium from pillars and allowed for flexible internal arrangements. Designed by a Chinese architect S.F. Liu, the Theatre is moreover fronted by a large decorative relief panel with the artwork by renowned Lingnan artist Mui Yu-tin featuring the ancient Chinese tale of ‘The imperial warlord Dong Zhuo and the legendary beauty Diao Chan’. Together with the framed squared architraves and banded windows harmoniously fronting the elevation of the Theatre, there is a distinct Modernist and Art Deco quality to the whole building.

   

  In 1959, it was renamed State Theatre, and due to practical reasons the building has since then been converted into a theatre-cum-shopping complex, and a multi-storey block with shops, residential flats and a night club was opened in the adjacent site. The Theatre finally ceased to operate in 1997, and has today changed its use to a billiard centre with removable partitions sealing off the upper deck of the auditorium. The rest of the complex currently consists of a rundown shopping mall, still in function, and small residential flats.

   

  In July 2015, a local property developer started to purchase various property rights within the State Theatre complex, and rumours of demolition and redevelopment of the site started to spread. Eventually, after substantial consolidated public efforts towards the Theatre, it was finally given a Grade 1 historic building status in March 2017. The State Theatre, narrowly escaping demolition, is only the third building after the Bank of China (built 1952) and the City Hall (built 1962) listed as a Grade 1 historic building in Hong Kong that is built after 1950, indicating a flaw in local heritage policy to value modern built heritage.

   

   

  published January 2020

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• 

  Hanni Geiger

   

  Shudu (2020), a dark-skinned mannequin based on Instagram and other social networks, is a CGI – a 3D computer graphic that, according to its creator Cameron-James Wilson (founder and CEO of the digital modelling agency THE DIIGITALS, https://www.thediigitals.com/), is considered the world's first digital supermodel. With currently more than 218,000 followers (@shudu.gram), she is one of the most booked models and has collaborations with major fashion companies such as Oscar de la Renta or the superstars Tyra Banks and Rihanna (Square, 2018). Yet the genesis of the mannequin and virtual influencer is anything but glamorous: after years as a photographer in the London fashion industry, Wilson retreats to his mother's garden shed in Weymouth, Dorset, and experiments with various design programs on a very cheap gaming computer (Jackson, 2018). In designing Shudu, he was primarily driven by a desire to work freely and “[…] focus on the art rather than the money” (Jackson, 2018). Shudu was intended to be a product of pure creativity, regardless of her later successful integration into the fashion industry (Jackson, 2018).

   

  It takes a closer look to detect the artificiality from the model. Thanks to various digital image editing programs such as Marvelous Designer, CLO and Daz 3D, Wilson deliberately adds small flawed constructions to his very naturalistic-looking mannequin (Jackson, 2018; Square, 2018): scars, hairs, wrinkles and pores provide more liveliness, and thus also more “truthfulness”, if one were to argue in the Benjaminian sense with the aura of the unique or authentic. Basically, this is a completely contrary approach to high-end fashion photography, which classically aims to remove any physical imperfections from the human models until they mutate into doll-like, enraptured beings. This already shows through the external observation of the virtual model that „authenticity“ in the context of digital media and the outdated understanding of reality as distinct from virtuality must be rethought and oppositions in the technical, but also especially in the philosophical-social sense must be questioned.

   

  In order to get closer to this „reality“ or the societal significance of the digital model, it is imperative to look at the controversial debates surrounding the black mannequin. As a white man, Wilson has more often had to face accusations of commercializing black culture, which is legal but equally questionable (Square, 2018). Under the rubric of “cultural appropriation”, “racial expropriation”, “racial capitalism” (Cedric J. Robinson) or “racist plagiarism” (Minh Ha T. Pham), the economic and social exploitation of inferior, marginalized cultures by the dominant white culture is understood as a neo-colonial approach, especially in the broad sector of industry. In this process, social as well as economic value is drawn from an ethnic identity, even generating a “commodity” from it, without thinking about the painful or unpleasant part or even giving minorities a share of the profits. Wilson's implementation of diversity and responsibility in the design process could, according to critics, be read as a clever marketing strategy – after all, “exoticized” phenotypes with very dark skin, high cheekbones and slender, tall stature are currently in vogue (Square, 2018). Particularly problematic in Shudu's design process appears Wilson's inspiration in the “Princess of South Africa Barbie doll”, a special edition Barbie launched in 2002 as one of the “Dolls of the World” collection (Khoabane, 2018). The digital avatar is said to have a similar origin and motivation: born out of the imagination of white companies and creatives to generate commercial success without knowing, considering or including the reality of people of color in the creation and sales process (Square, 2018).

   

  For a holistic understanding of the figure, however, it is also important to analyze it beyond stereotypical argumentation and against the backdrop of its time, its creators and its consumers. As Generation Z and digital natives, the creators and users of virtual influencers are inevitably shaped by the technological changes of everyday life. Their thoughts and actions are primarily derived from the fascination with digital design, which increasingly merges the real and the virtual and makes physically, socially and culturally significant differentiations recede into the background. Wilson seems to use the technical qualities of the digital image, such as its mutability and ubiquity, to draw a picture of a decidedly plural, heterogeneous society in a sustainable way that is independent of time and place. Unlike the dys- and utopian visions of the future of human beings in classical fashion photography or in numerous digital drafts of human beings in art, the figure that exists only virtually seems to be the digital embodiment of a thoroughly real and, above all, present world of life characterized by diversity. With her obvious distancing from the white, male and Western-dominated political and economic mainstream, Shudu offers a template for breaking with the universalism of imperially knitted modernism via strategies of so-called inclusive marketing, which consciously considers diversity in the design process¹.

   

  The fact that the digital visualization of a virtual body that stands for diversity, such as Shudu’s, is particularly suitable for creating meanings around the human body, goes back to the postmodern discourse on the epistemology of the body and the knowledge attached to it. As Jay David Bolter recognized in the early 1990s, we as human beings know something by virtue of our bodily and social situations and not through a process of abstract and disinterested thought (Bolter, 1996, 85). Time, place and context thus determine the so-called specific “situated knowledge”, which can never be universal (Haraway, 1988). While in the 1990s transhumanist, biotechnological processes such as genetic engineering and cloning changed the body, in the (post-)digital age a new attention to the physical is evident, which is shifted to the realm of digital image production (Kröner, 2019, 72–73). What becomes evident is that despite the temporary disappearance of the human body through its dissolution into data and bits, it returns on screen in an altered and far more flexible form than the carnal. Posthumanism, following on from the tendencies of postmodernism, then makes use of digital image genesis and manipulation to base the epistemology of the body and its situatedness on the complete rejection of humanism as a Western-determined anthropocentric unity and superiority. These aspects could be relevant precisely to the reading of Shudu. The hierarchical scaling of people according to gender, ethnicity, class, sexual orientation, ability or age, which is characteristic of humanism, is to be fundamentally abandoned with the rejection of the onto-epistemological superiority of the human species (Ferrando, 2008, 438–439). Human interconnection, the symbiotic relationship with the non-human (Haraway, 2008; Wolfe, 2010) and the recognition of so-called “more-than-human geographies”² are at the forefront of these conceptions of the body (Ferrando, 2008, 438–439). Beyond bias, dualisms and hierarchies, a (re)figuration of the human beyond the human that recognizes nature as well as technology in unity with the human (Haraway, 1985/2016) manifests itself in Shudu as a visual representation of Donna Haraway's cyborg figure. Thus, it seems that it is precisely thanks to the digital-technological “liquidity“ of bodies, techniques and media that Haraway's vision has been fulfilled: with the help of their transnational, hybrid nature, (digital) cyborgs develop subversive strategies of “writing” as a powerful form of political struggle against oppression (Haraway, 1988; Schmitz, 2016). Such “writing” (and thus also speaking) negates the dream of a common language and seemingly homogeneous identity (Haraway, 1988; Schmitz, 2016). In this respect, Shudu, as just such a (digital) cyborg, offers the template for multiple localization –against organic holism, unambiguous classification, and antagonistic dualisms (Schmitz, 2016).³

   

  This then also includes the fact that virtual figures such as Shudu can be designed, consumed, exploited, criticized and thus also shaped on a global level in a socially, gender and culturally largely independent way⁴ – unlike the real, expensive Barbie dolls. With more images of underrepresented people in global circulation, habitual ways of seeing and thinking can be permanently changed, which could open up opportunities for marginalized groups, also from an economic perspective (Slay, 2018). With his collaborations with numerous representatives of the Black community as well as the Black staff team of hair stylists, make-up artists as well as also real Black models he stages for certain brands alongside Shudu (Square, 2018; Wilson 2021), Wilson intervenes in the working world and the economics of fashion. By consciously involving people of color in the design, styling, marketing, sales and profits of his company, his digital embodiments of elastic otherness impact the direction of a society that seeks to transcend Western-determined barriers – from a variety of perspectives and fields of action.

  In this way, the initially small companies that originated in a decidedly plural society seem to be using both simple and advanced digital technologies to draw artificial images of a reality that has always been characterized by diversity and particularisms. The fact that the artificial figure (certainly also for marketing reasons and due to the entertainment industry) enters into a targeted interweaving with the analogue world through the staging with real people in real settings, increases its credibility and thus the social, economic and political influence of digital (human) images. Thus, these creators, who have long since outgrown their infancy and cooperate with big brands, seem to initiate a new “decentralization” of society as well as of the internet because of their politically underpinned messages about inclusion, heterogeneity and equal opportunities – and regardless of their possibly commercially colored motivation. If the dissolution of boundaries between the real and the virtual, nature and the artificial, the human and the non-human (Barron, 2003), and consequently also between art and commerce, responsibility and economy, truth and lies, majority and minority, genres, techniques and media no longer seem socially or scientifically relevant, the question of categorizing people according to skin color or ethnicity will no longer have to arise.

   

  At this point, however, AI should also be taken into account as another possibility of digital “humanization”, which, in contrast to the purely external formation already described, concerns an “inner”, algorithmically controlled shaping of the “human-machine”. The juxtaposition of both types of artificial human creation becomes relevant in the question of the generation of “truth”, which algorithmically controlled AI – unlike the digital images and animations of social diversity mentioned above – in no way answers with the claim to represent the social cross-section. As a neural network, AI processes data such as words and images statically, it calculates the probabilities and says what the majority says and thinks (Simanowski, 2021). However, if the production of AI-generated “human images” is mainly based on large, Western-managed companies and the knowledge infiltrated into the machine is fed from data sets of a white, male majority belonging to the global North – without being externally curated or supervised – every minority and individuality is silenced (Simanowski, 2021): data inclusion on the one hand thus means the exclusion of diverse social structures on the other. This would, as it were, preprogram the return of the “gatekeepers” whose disempowerment through the internet was previously welcomed so enthusiastically (Simanowski, 2021). In this case, it becomes clear that technological progress does not necessarily go hand in hand with social progress (Simanowski, 2021).

  Finally, it should be noted that the technologically induced change in the production and perception of the digital (human) image challenges us to critically rethink traditional systems of order. The interweaving with digital technologies seems to make the physical body and its interior comprehensible as an open system intertwined with its environment, whereby entrenched biases and dualisms could be invalidated and a multi-perspective view of society, politics and the economy could unfold. Whether this change in perspective can lead to a more open, even tolerant society in the long term will become clear in connection with further steps in the development and the future horizon of impact of the digital image in art, society, politics and science.

   

   

  Footnotes

   

  1) Inclusive marketing aims to create a sense of community through “authentic” cultural values inherent in the customer base. In doing so, the personal perspective of the designers, including their prejudices, should be excluded and a design for the whole of society that is as broadly conceived as possible should be created (Saputo, 2019; Maier 2021).

  2) The term goes back to the findings of new cultural geography, which is based on theories of human geography. The aim of its research is to question the contemporary relationship of people to the living beings and things in their environment. Among other things, this involves the correlation between the human and the non-human, nature and culture, people and technologies. See most recently the events at the University of Bern on “More-than-human geographies”: https://www.geography.unibe.ch/forschung/sozial__und_kulturgeographie/lehre/seminar_mehr_als_menschliche_geographien/index_ger.html.

  3) Against the backdrop of Haraway's theories, this multiplicity of localizations could then be conceived with the complete abandonment of the concept of identity, if relations were created based on choice in conscious coalitions and political kinship via so-called “affinities”. See Haraway 1988; Schmitz, 2016.

  4) It is important to remember that although digital images circulate worldwide, they are not equally accessible to everyone in the context of divergent cultures, political, religious and sexual restrictions. Participation in a digital “global culture” is therefore always accompanied by exclusions, interruptions and detours.

   

   

  References

   

  • Barron, Collin (2003). A strong distinction between humans and non-humans is no longer required for research purposes: A debate between Bruno Latour and Steve Fuller. History of the Human Sciences, 16(2), 77–99.
  • Bolter, Jay David (1996). Virtuelle Realität und die Epistemologie des Körpers. Kunstforum International. Die Zukunft des Körpers I, 132(November–January), 85–89.
  • Ferrando, Francesca (2018). Transhumanism/Posthumanism. Posthuman Glossary, edited by Rosi Braidotti & Maria Hlavajova, Bloomsbury Academic, 438–439.
  • Haraway, Donna J. & Wolfe, Cary (2016). A Cyborg Manifesto. Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in The Late Twentieth Century (1985). Manifestly Haraway (3–90). University of Minnesota Press, http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5749/j.ctt1b7x5f6.
  • Haraway, Donna J. (1988). Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective. Feminist Studies, 14(3), 575–599.
  • Harraway, Donna J. (2008). When Species Meet. Posthumanities, Volume 3, edited by Cary Wolfe, University of Minnesota Press.
  • Jackson, Lauren Michelle (2018, May 4). Shudu Gram Is a White Man’s Digital Projection of Real-Life Black Womanhood. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/shudu-gram-is-a-white-mans-digital-projection-of-real-life-black-womanhood.
  • Khoabane, Rea (2018, May 20). Meet Shudu: the world’s first digital black supermodel. Sunday Times. https://www.timeslive.co.za/sunday-times/lifestyle/2018-05-19-mock-princess-meet-shudu-the-digital-supermodel-turning-heads/.
  • Kröner, Magdalena (2019). Liquid Bodies. Ein subjektiver Überblick. Kunstforum International. Digital. Virtuell. Posthuman? Neue Körper in der Kunst 265(January–February), 72–115.
  • Maier, Birgit (2021, February 5). Du bist nicht alle – warum inklusives Design uns all angeht und wie es gelingen kann. OnlineMarketing.de. https://onlinemarketing.de/marketing-tools/inklusives-design-geht-alle-an-wie-es-gelingt.
  • Saputo, Sandy (2019, June). How Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty delivered „Beauty for All” – and a wake-up call to the industry. Think with Google. https://www.thinkwithgoogle.com/future-of-marketing/management-and-culture/diversity-and-inclusion/-fenty-beauty-inclusive-advertising/.
  • Schmitz, Sigrid (2016, July 12). Cyborgs, situiertes Wissen und das Chthulucene. Donna Haraway und dreißig Jahre politischer (Natur-)wissenschaft. Soziopolis. https://www.soziopolis.de/cyborgs-situiertes-wissen-und-das-chthulucene.html.
  • Simanowski, Roberto (2021, April 28). Identitätspolitik und künstliche Intelligenz. Es droht eine Tyrannei der Mehrheit (audio article). Deutschlandfunk Kultur. Politisches Feuilleton, ARD-Audiothek. https://podcast-mp3.dradio.de/podcast/2021/04/28/kuenstliche_intelligenz_identitaetspolitik_und_die_drk_20210428_0720_58851d76.mp3.
  • Slay, Nick (2018, April 9). Twitter Reacts to Virtual Influencers: Is Shudu Art or Appropriation? The Source. https://thesource.com/2018/04/09/twitter-reacts-to-virtual-influencers-is-shudu-art-or-appropriation/.
  • Square, Jonathan (2018, March 27). Is Instagram’s Newest Sensation Just Another Example of Cultural Appropriation? Fashionista. https://fashionista.com/2018/03/computer-generated-models-cultural-appropriation.
  • THE DIIGITALS. Shudu.Gram. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/shudu.gram/?hl=de.
  • Wilson, Cameron-James (2021, April 30). How Digital Models are Changing the Face of Fashion. Lecture at the Online Conference „The Digital Image – Social Dimensions, Political Perspectives and Economic Constraints“, Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich, April 28–30, 2021.
  • Wolfe, Carry (2010). What Is Posthumanism? University of Minnesota Press.

   

   

   

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• 

  Ernst Wagner

  The English Garden perceived as harmonious, lovely, picturesque or graceful to visitors in our present day, is charged with political resistance, struggle for power, projection of social utopias or flight into resignation. Like many interesting creations, these gardens are microcosms full of contradictions – particularly during the time they were created in the early 18th century: utopia and idyll, a mirror of society and its antithesis, dream and melancholy, imitation of nature and going beyond nature.

  
  Stowe House Park, less than 70 miles northwest of London, is considered to be the first and most definitive site of an ‘English Garden’ – Lancelot Brown (1716 – 1783) who was employed there was the first person whose life-long occupation was that of a landscape gardener. The Stowe gardens embodied the ‘English Garden’ paradigm like no other and Benton Seeley’s guidebook (1742), the first garden guidebook to be published in the world, helped to spread Stowe’s influence throughout the 18th century as the model for the ideal English garden.

  As a country estate of the Temple family, it was – many decades before the redesign – first committed to Baroque, i.e. French models: symmetrically laid out, geometrized nature, combined with the pompous splendor of the manor building. The early model was abandoned and the new complex design of 26 hectares followed more innovative principles, for good reason; however, it still remained a status symbol of the wealthy family.

   

  Thus the many buildings that were built in the park are demonstratively not Baroque. After all, Baroque embodied absolutism, which was despised. Instead, they were inspired by Renaissance, Gothic, antiquity, or Chinese architecture, pre-baroque styles or styles found geographically outside the borders of England. Each style tries to evoke its own mood: Gothic stood (and stands) for the morbid, the unearthly, China for the exotic, antiquity for the free citizenry.

   

  In this sense, the names of the garden parts can be understood as allegories: Temple of Concord and Victory, Grecian Valley, Stauen von Saxon Deities (Germanic Deities) or Homer and Socrates, Gothic Temple, Elysian Fields and many others refer to cultural regions that represent a different, supposedly better social order. It is about an alternative concept to the absolutist principles, about freedom. The dedication inscription on the Gothic Temple makes this very clear: “To the liberties of our Ancestors”.

   

  This directly decipherable political iconography is complemented by a differentiated iconology of forms. For example, the grass around the Temple of Ancient Virtue is subtly maintained as a lawn, while the grass around the ruins of ‘contemporary virtue’ grew wild until the ruins disappeared completely. The outdoors devours the contemporary, decadent, (neo-) absolutist tendencies. Thus nature was liberated from geometrizing corsets just as society was liberated from absolutism. As in free nature outside the garden with its unbridled forms, the garden becomes a free landscape in which free people move freely.

  This conception of how such a landscape garden should look was influenced by three main sources: from the personal memories of nature that English nobility brought back with them from their Grand Tours through Europe; various descriptions of exotic Asian gardens; and, finally, from the classical landscape paintings by Ruisdael, Lorrain or Poussin.

   

  Areas in the garden were designed for such three-dimensional pictorial stagings, which in Stowe featured over 90 selected scenes (or one might call them intriguing or harmonious compositions) that could be experienced from certain spots or areas in the garden. The visitor had to and has to set out to walk in order to experience all the spaces and perspectives along the way. Winding paths, which repeatedly open up to surprising glimpses of the unexpected, lift the visitor from everyday life and put him in a special mood. Hence, the course of the path is the central means of the landscape designer to develop his own dramaturgy. He steers the visitor and controls what he sees and when. What the visitor doesn’t see are typical walls. Instead the use of ha-has, a recess in the landscape similar to a sunken ditch, creates a vertical barrier while preserving an uninterrupted view of the landscape. The fine line between art and nature disappears.

   

  The ever-changing weather, light and appearance of the plants, and the multifold of views along the way, allow the visitor to immerse himself again and again in an entirely new visual experience. This sensual experience should have a purpose. In the five-volume Theory of Garden Art by Hirschfeld, published 1779-85 in Leipzig, the aims are clearly outlined: On the one hand, the education of the observer through the enjoyment of art (“inner true cheering up of the soul, enrichment of the imagination, refinement of feelings”) and on the other hand, the “beautification of an earth which is our home for a time”. The aim is thus the refinement of nature by man as well as the refinement of man by nature.

   

  The Temple family had initially acquired its immense wealth through sheep farming, and on the basis of its economic success it provided members of the English parliament for generations, including four prime ministers. English politics in the 18th and 19th centuries would be inconceivable without its influence. Richard Temple, 1st Viscount Cobham (1675 – 1749), who was a key figure in the founding of the park at Stowe, was initially a successful army commander in the War of Spanish Succession against France. In the early 18th century, however, as a supporter of the ‘Glorious Revolution’ (1688/89), which had led to the abolition of absolutism in England, he was marginalized by internal adversaries, which made the development of his garden so important for him.

   

  In search of an aesthetic alternative to the ideologically rejected French garden (as the embodiment of absolutism), Chinese or Japanese gardens offered a central source of inspiration. William Temple had already published a book on Asian gardens in 1690. These gardens were above all a counter-model to the symmetrical arrangement of geometrically limited flowerbeds, the prototype of which was the park of Versailles. The irregular, free composition of trees, plants, stones, and water in Asian gardens was the model for a natural appearance that was as natural as possible and, in turn, created with the highest degree of craftsmanship, that is, artificially. In 1738, this enthusiasm for Asian gardens led to the construction of a Chinese house in Stowe – the first in garden history – an innovation that found its successors in many gardens throughout Europe.

   

   

  Reference

  Sibylle Hoimann, Garten; in: Fleckner U., Warnke M., Ziegler H. (eds.), Handbuch der politischen Ikonographie, Vol. I, München 2011 (Beck), pp. 388.

   

   

  published January 2020

   

  

  Prudence Lau

  At the moment, I find it fascinating that such English and Chinese or Asian cultural exchange upon the built environment started so early on in the 18th century. It reminds me of the Chinese garden that focuses also on landscape, and an emphasis for reflection and escape from the outside world.

   

   

  published January 2020

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  Elfriede Dreyer

   

  Originally, South Africa was discovered by the Portuguese in 1488, but this was not permanent, just like the Dutch settlement in 1652 that is generally viewed as the birth date of the country. In 1795 the Cape Colony fell under British rule again; it reverted back to Dutch rule in 1803; and again to the British  in 1806. From the onset of colonisation, the transatlantic slave trade was immense and especially South-East Africa was a main source of slaves. The colonisation of Southern Africa had as main purposes the setting up of refreshment posts where food and other essential stock could be collected, as well as the trading of slaves. The indigenous nations were subject to the whims and fancies of the colonisers, and they were sexually and labour-wise exploited; families were broken up and those who resisted were punished and often killed by whipping, shackling, hanging, beating, burning, mutilation, branding and rape. In many cases the slave ships themselves were killer machines since the slaves were packed into the haul like sardines with little attention to hygiene.

   

  In addition, South Africa is extraordinarily rich in mineral resources and gold, which has brought about massive wealth, but also instability. Johannesburg was established in 1886, due to the so-called gold rush, with fortune seekers and diggers flooding to it from all over the world to the country. Since then the gold mines have attracted an influx of locals as workers, which contributed to much nomadism, but especially since 1948 during apartheid, such mine workers were ironically allowed to work underground but once aboveground they had to return to townships outside the large city.

  Since 1948 when the country became locally governed by the Afrikaner-dominated right-wing National Party, whilst still regarding Queen Elizabeth II as head of state as a relic of British imperialism, attempts were made to throw off the colonial yoke permanently, and on 5 October 1960 the country became an independent Republic. At all times there have been resistance to the ruling governments by groups of all cultural origin, but especially during the 1980s and early 1990s there was severe resistance to the ruling policy of segregation: a period that saw much abuse, violence and many incarcerations. In 1990 Nelson Mandela as leader of the oppositionist African National Party was released from prison and in 1994, as part of a peaceful handover, he was inaugurated as the new president of the country with the ANC as government.

   

  It is clear that, as a country, South Africa has been torn apart by politics, and especially by the impact of colonisation. The postcolonial impulse is therefore inordinately robust in this part of the world. The notion of the postcolonial is closely linked to that of the postmodern, and according to Gen Doy (2000:204), author of Black Visual Culture: Modernity and Postmodernity, much of current art practice is “often relating to issues discussed in postcolonial theory such as identity, displacement, mixing of cultures and peoples (hybridity) and indeterminancy.” Post-colonialism could be viewed as a response as well as a resistance to colonialism, whereby issues such as historical events, beliefs, traditions, conventions and languages are evaluated and critiqued in an attempt to uncover the superiority and centrality of certain systems of thinking. Ideas of superiority and power relations play a core role in postcolonial investigations, but a main problem in much postcolonial theory is to nurture the idea of static black culture, which in reality is constantly changing and adapting to new developments and ideas. Decoloniality or decolonialism originated as a Latin American movement which focuses on understanding modernity in the context of a form of critical theory applied to ethnic studies. Similarly it is a response to colonialism. It seems to be more radically critical than postcolonialism which indicates more of a general resistance. Coloniality is generally understood as the sentiment and logic essential to the evolvement of Western civilisation from the Renaissance to today. Foundational to decoloniality is the deconstruction or decoding of the coloniality of power. This logic is commonly referred to as the colonial matrix of power and has its own set of theories and methodologies.

  Since the 1980s, the work of internationally renowned South African artist William Kentridge (b. 1955, Johannesburg) has mainly served the purpose of commenting on socio-political issues in the country. He is best known for his prints, drawings, operas and animated films. A work of special interest is his The refusal of time of 2012 (hereafter referred to as ‘TRT’), since it presents a clear image of postcolonial legacies and decolonial sentiments that have resulted in an eclectic mélange of narratives, experiences and events. Particularly interesting is also how the artist mixes various kinds of technologies in sophisticated way.

   

  TRT premiered at Documenta 13 (2012) in Kassel, Germany, specially commissioned by the curator of Documenta 13, Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, and since then it has been exhibited at various other venues in Japan, Italy, Australia, the United States, Brazil, Holland and Finland. The work was produced in the artist’s studio in the Maboneng district in downtown Johannesburg and as a prelude to Documenta 13, a series of notebooks entitled 100 notes – 100 thoughts was published by Hanje Katz in 2011. In South Africa, the artistic production was shown first from November to December 2014 at the Johannesburg Art Gallery and then at the National Gallery in Cape Town in 2015. A collaborative piece, the artwork entails teamwork with Peter L. Galison, Philip Miller and Catherine Meyburgh. The chamber opera, Refuse the Hour (made in collaboration with Miller, Meyburgh, Dada Masilo and Galison) - with an international cast of eleven, including dancers, musicians, performers and vocalists - is the theatrical accompaniment that laid the groundwork for the artwork and is also an independent production. Prominent in the production is the artist presenting a lecture-performance on productive procrastination, myth, entropy, empire, black holes, the ancient Greek myth of Perseus and Einstein, surrounded by animations, swirling dancers, singers with megaphones, instrumentalists and a solitary physicist (BAM | Refuse the hour 2015).

   

  As an installation, TRT comprises five digital film projections on thirty-minute loops and a large automaton, occupying the entire space of a single, large hall. In the dark enclosed space of TRT, a hive of moving figures and intersecting stop-frame imagery ensues in the five film projections, creating an impression of vibrating energy. The complex imagery includes the artist as one of the performers, walking, reading and performing acts such as changing hats; a female figure, dancing and producing ‘wagon wheels’ and other acts; figures in comical scenes in colonial rooms à la George Méliès; figures in a laboratory-like space, maybe busy with experiments; dispersing and flying anamorphic fragments becoming human figures, representing a kind of chaos rendering; a rhinoceros; silhouettes; ticking metronomes and clocks; and imagery of inter alia megaphones, starry skies, stop-frame animations and drawings. On the other hand, chaotic time is presented as humanly, existentially and imaginatively inferred. Mortal conceptions of the physical body appear in the form of chaos imagery of disintegrating matter; and swirling moving figures, transgressed boundaries, and fleeting script and words render an awareness of temporality and transience in order to defy conceptions of certainty and fixed systems. The moving human agents in TRT ‘transgress’ the confines of the delineated boundaries of each projection by walking across the edges, and by so doing become displaced and emplaced in in-between, liminal zones.

   

  Kentridge positions the human body centrally in TRT. Technically, his scientific and conceptual method levies each projection that transforms intermittently from the graphic, more abstract imagery into the stop-frame animations to human figures (including the artist himself performing), clothed idiosyncratically in contemporary as well as traditional outfits. Other transmutations include a turn to colonial comical scenes with actors performing in rooms with historical architecture; walking and dancing figures; and figures in shadow procession, recalling some of Kentridge’s well-known earlier works. The sculptural automaton and ticking metronomes are given equal presence in the five film projections, which generates the comment that technological development has shown progress from elementary, handmade technologies to advanced digital technologies, but that the embedded techniques and processes are equally relevant.

   

  In TRT, preference is given to a conceptual engagement with the human technological condition instead of a lofty statement about science itself. Kentridge ‘relegates' science to technology and succeeds in generating comment and meaning through the very processes of the techniques used. In the five ancillary virtual ‘rooms’, an artificial environment has been created, entrenched in the technologies of the digital age, which has borne witness to emerging engineerings such as electronic communications, artificial intelligence and biotechnology. Symbolically comment is generated in terms of politics as ‘experimentation’ and human beings as the victims thereof. Set in virtual reality, the rooms in the Méliès-type comical scenes in TRT resemble colonial architecture, but notably these are graphically hand-drawn. Through very technique of the linear and expressive sketching of doors, windows and other paraphernalia, heterotopic ‘frames’ are created that resonate with the racial and gender regimes of the histories of colonial culture in South Africa. Several spaces are represented in the work, but in a dualistic sense they are both material and immaterial, and ambivalently premised.

   

  The flying particles in TRT subtly reveal thin red lines, crossing and indicating geographical points of intersection, but without explanation of what they represent. Metaphorically they could function as boundaries, relational reference points, historical markers, psychographical moments or points of reference wherefrom the ‘walk’ into time takes place or even the liminal ‘place’ where life and death meet. The particles become chaotic and finally disintegrate, almost in reflection of the processes of memory and how everything fades in time.

   

  References

  Doy, G. 2000. Black Visual Culture: Modernity and Postmodernity. Gen Doy London: I.B. Tauris. 

   

  About the artist

  William Kentridge (born 28 April 1955) is a South African artist best known for his prints, drawings, and animated films.  His political perspective is expressed in his opera directions, which involves different layers: stage direction, animation movies, influences of the puppet world. He has staged Il retorno d’Ulisse in patria (Monteverdi), Die Zauberflöte (Mozart) and The nose (Shostakovich). Berg's Lulu  premièred at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and in 2017 Wozzeck (Alban Berg) premiered at the Salzburg Festival.

   

   

  published February 2020

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• 

  Elfriede Dreyer

   

  The Richtersveld National Park in South Africa has some of the most beautiful and hardy vegetation in the world. The 'botterboom' ('butter tree') (Tylecodon paniculatus) is but one example hereof. According to Wikipedia (RICHTERSVELD 2008), "The plant appears to have wide tolerance of growing habitats, growing in weathered rock in the north to coastal sands in the south. The plants can reach heights of 2 m making them the largest of the tylecodons. Tylecodon paniculatus is summer deciduous. The plants conserve energy by photosynthesizing through their 'greenish stems' during the hot dry summer months. The yellowish green, papery bark is a very attractive feature of this plant and has given rise to the common name. During the winter, plants are covered with long, obovate, succulent leaves clustered around the apex of the growing tip. [...] In nature the plants tend to grow in groups, making a spectacular show when they flower. [...] The shrub is reported to have a surprisingly weak and shallow root system for its size." This plant is representative of many other African succulents and bulbous plants that have shallow root systems and can therefore easily adjust to desert and other harsh environmental conditions. They change their leaves into thorns and the surface to protect the plant against the loss of water.

   

  The metaphor of the succulent is of particular interest to an engagement with nomadic identity in the context of a continent such as Africa that has been subjected to "wicked, messy problems". Being similarly exposed to a severe environment, African people have accustomed themselves to survive in difficult circumstances and to a large extent have become nomadic as a result. In many cases they have adopted itinerant lifestyles and form groups for protection, safety and cultural coherence. Living on a vast continent, they are accustomed to long journeys; however, poverty, violence, civil wars, colonial and other imperial infiltrations and oppression have resulted in a focused nomadic condition where people are constantly moving and travelling in the search for a better life and even survival. Aligning contemporary culture with nomadism, Polish sociologist and philosopher Zygmunt Bauman (1996) appropriates the stereotype of the pilgrim who is on a teleological journey - ordered, determined and predictable - but cannot come to rest and leave a footprint in the sand. They operate through a 'shallow root system'.

  Bulbous succulent plants are essentially botanical rhizomes, a concept that inspired the notion of the rhizome as a philosophical concept, initially developed by Gilles Deleuze (philosopher) and Felix Guattari (psychotherapist) in their Capitalism and schizophrenia (1972 -- 1980) project. Deleuze and Guattari (1987:7) state that the "rhizome itself assumes many diverse forms, from ramified surface extension in all directions to concretion in bulbs and tubers". In "A thousand plateaus" (1987 [1980]) they introduce the concept of the rhizome as follows (assigned to cultural patterning):

   

  1. Principle of connection: any point of a rhizome can be connected to any other

  2. Principle of heterogeneity: any point of a rhizome can be connected to any other

  3. Principle of multiplicity

  4. Principle of a signifying rupture: a rhizome may be broken, but it will start up again on one of its old lines, or on new lines

  5. Principle of cartography and

  6: Principle of decalcomania: a rhizome is not amenable to any structural or generative model; it is a map and not a tracing.

   

  Deleuze and Guattari's model allows for a cultural view that entertains non-stable relationships, subjectivity, relationalism, multiplicity and volatile positions. Similarly, Italian contemporary philosopher and feminist theoretician Rosi Braidotti (2011:3) views the nomadic predicament and its multiple contradictions have come to age in the third millennium after years of debate on the "'nonunitary' - split, in process, knotted, rhizomatic, transitional, nomadic - so that fragmentation, complexity and multiplicity have become everyday terms in critical theory." Since the 1990s Braidotti has been engaged with the question as to what the political and ethical conditions of nomadic subjectivity are, grounded in a "politically invested cartography of the present condition of mobility in a globalized world" (Braidotti 2011:4).

   

  South Africa has experienced turbulent histories over the last two centuries and nomadic movement was brought on by volatile colonial, postcolonial and global upheavals, leading to political and social displacement and consequently hybrid identities. Having been a British as well as a Dutch colony, South Africa has since 1652 shown cultural patterns of movement in and out of the country, and from place to place. During apartheid non-whites or 'people of colour' were viewed as not belonging and were removed from the city; forcibly established in townships outside the city; only allowed as workers into the city; and had to carry passbooks (identity documents) on them all the time. For many decades now, in postapartheid South Africa, migrants from all over the continent have been flocking to the country in search of a better life and even survival, and they mostly live in temporary shelters. Many other sociological and cultural problems have emanated as a result of the migrant issue, based on subjective racism, xenophobia, crime and fear for the other.

   

  Identity (and subjectivity) in the African modernist context is neither stable nor fixed, and the corporeality of the artist-as body and the artwork-as-process in this specific part of the world henceforth has produced liminalities in many ways. Often rooted in a rural or small-town environment, African artists generally tend to move to multicultural, cosmopolitan cities where gallery and industry networks are in closer proximity. Those in the rural remote parts of Africa make it their business to connect through digital and social media in order to stay connected, current and noticed.

   

  The art of South African artist Diane Victor provides an eminent example of nomadic identity depiction. The artist utilises various ephemeral media in her work, such as ash, crushed charcoal and staining. In Perpetrator 1, 2008, a so-called smoke portrait, she has used the deposits of carbon from candle smoke on white paper to draw with. The work is exceedingly fragile and can be easily damaged, disintegrating with physical contact as the carbon soot is dislodged from the paper, and in this way speaks about the fragility, precariousness and insubstantiality of a nomadic human condition. Although the smoke portraits started with a series on AIDS victims in 2003, Victor continued to depict various other individuals, commenting on ephemeral politics and ideas, and life generally as a temporal entity. In this work she depicts a perpetrator with reference to the previous South African apartheid dispensation and the atrocities of its perpetrators, but also to counter racism and the violence committed in the name of political redress. The Perpetrator's race is indeterminate, but his gender is certain, as well as the cruelty of his dispensation. Severed from the body, the Perpetrator's head becomes a rhizome that is not 'rooted' in a body, but uprooted, derooted, and floating with tubular arteries as corms hanging from it like a beheaded monster.

   

  As an ephemeral, nomadic image, Perpetrator 1 speaks about a decolonial condition that presents the ambivalent Baumanian idea of the pilgrim-tourist who keeps going in circles, driven by an ideological sense of survival. Nomadic identity is essentially rhizomatic, and in Africa, as in many other parts of the world, the drive to belong and the utopian quest for a better life have resulted in identity being redefined, renegotiated, rerooted and sprouting in many directions.

   

   

   

  References

  • Bauman, Z. ‘From pilgrim to tourist – or a short history of identity’. In Hall, S and Du Gay, P (eds). 1996. Questions of cultural identity. London/New Delhi/Thousand Oaks: SAGE.
  • Braidotti, R. 2011. Nomadic subjects: embodiment and sexual difference in contemporary feminist theory. Second edition. Gender and culture: A series of Columbia University Press. New York: University of Columbia Press.
  • Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. 1976. Rhizome: Introduction. Paris: Éditions de Minuit. [based on Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s  Capitalism and schizophrenia project (1972 - 1980)].
  • Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. 1987 [1980, French original]. A thousand plateaus: capitalism and schizophrenia. Translated by Brian Massumi. London: Athlone Press.
  • RICHTERSVELD NATIONAL PARK - VEGETATION: BOTTERBOOM (Tylecodon paniculatus). 2008.Available: https://www.richtersveldnationalpark.com/vegetation_botterboom.html (Accessed 3 January 2019).

   

   

  published April 2020

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  Emmanuel Aklasu

  Owusu-Ankomah’s painting at first glance reveals a foreshortening company of energetic warriors, muscular framed with broad shoulders, muscled chest, and a narrow waist in a chiselled physique. The hunters were portrayed with huge hands, clenched fist, knuckles, strong legs visibly revealing biceps brachiis and dabs of varicose veins on the arms, thighs and legs evident of powerful and efficacious men. Before modern society, the average male spent most of their time hunting, protecting, and engaging in physical activities that increased their muscle mass and maximize their muscular proportions. Owusu-Ankomah’s production exhibits masculine competitiveness and a sense of adventure – the brave team were a-fire with passion, armed with sticks in a leopard-like graceful movement as the captain leads carrying a captured antelope shoulder high.

   

  The warriors are noticeably naked with only a string of grass costume wrapped around the private parts which is the formal and ceremonial attire for the ancient culture. Owusu-Ankomah’s choice of colour in rendering the human figures lends credence to the fact that colours have a strong position in identifying humans while hunting. Wearing hunter orange is the best way to ensure other hunters see you and don’t accidentally mistake you for game in complex backgrounds that are often green or brown. The artwork reveals harmonizing brown colours which tend to create a central focal point in the entire picture frame to evoke earthiness, emotions, security and safety related to the natural world. The tints and shades of hues enhanced the main features in the painting to vividly communicate the intended message as well as create an illusion of depth.

   

  A thick flora forms the background of the painting evident that the hunting expedition was carried out in a thick forest. As the fearless, able-bodied men advance through shrubs in high spirit of mission accomplished, an earthly scent swirled around them coupled with a sense of eagerness to meet a welcoming, expectant and jubilant community. Hunting is an extremely important mode of human-nature interaction closely linked to culture patterns and value systems. This engagement with wild animals is thought of as part of a deeper unity with nature, which means being part of nature in physical sense (Lowassa et al., 2012). Sustainable hunting prescribes taking as much as needed and as much as the habitat and the population can regenerate. Suffice to say, when hunting for a game form the basis of a year-long survival of a people, it calls for a deeper reflection. Owusu-Ankomah’s painting comes on the back of an ancient heritage of a distinct tribe in Sub-Saharan Africa.

   

  ‘Aboakyir’ translated ‘deer hunt’ is a festival uniquely celebrated by the Effutu (Simpa) people of Winneba in the Central Region, southern coast of Ghana, West Africa. The festival which is celebrated annually on the first Saturday in May has the historical antecedent of the replacement of a human sacrifice to a tribal god with a leopard – an alternative which resulted in the loss of many more lives than the sacrifice of a single slave. Consultations with the deity for a more humane alternative resulted in the “Wansan” (the deer) as a practicable and most acceptable substitute. The capture of a live deer, like the leopard, required many more hands than the members of the royal family could find. The additional hands required were solicited from the local militia as a service to ‘the stool – a symbol of chieftaincy, royalty, custom and tradition’. It was this change in form; that is, the involvement of the local militia, that the annual consecration and appeasement of the deity became a public, state-wide affair. This marked the birth and hence the origin of the “Aboakyer” festival.

   

  The design of the Effutu State emblem tells this story; the ‘stool’ on which the King is installed sits on the “Wansan” (the deer).

   

  

  Emblem of the Effutu state (Source: Palace of Oma Odefe)

   

  The festival is therefore important for the ‘stool’, its occupant and the entire royal stool family. It is a religious duty and an obligation for the general citizenry to ensure its celebration annually is sustained to honour the ancestors and protect their historic culture for posterity on the back of removing evil and predicting a good harvest for a prosperous life in the coming year. The week-long activity begins with two traditional warrior groups known as the ‘Asafo’ companies consult their shrines for clearance, protection and early catch. The warrior groups clad in distinct costumes with distinct musical instruments — the ‘Tuafo' and ‘Dentsefo’, move to their respective hunting grounds at dawn on Saturday, wielding sticks and clubs amid chanting of war songs. No weapons, other than clubs and sticks are used to catch the deer, as it must be brought back alive.

   

  By far, the relevance of Owusu-Ankomah’s painting is not in doubt as it fosters a deeper understanding of the historical and societal roles of hunting within Ghanaian communities. The painting holds both cultural and educational significance which sparks discussions on conservation, sustainable practices, and the preservation of cultural heritage. Consequently, bridging the gap between present generations and the rich tapestry of cultural and environmental history. The sight of the painting in Ghana’s National Museum serves as a poignant reflection of the nation’s cultural heritage and connection to nature. In this visual narrative, the core of historical period of a distinct society is unearthed.

   

  References

  • Lowassa, A., Tadie, D. & Fischer, A. (2012). On the role of women in bushmeat hunting – Insights from Tanzania and Ethiopia. Journal of Rural Studies 28(4):622–630.

   

  Further Reading

  • Anane-Frimpong, D. (2022). Aboakyir: Deer hunt festival. Link Retrieved on April 10, 2023
  • Rubiano, W. (2017). Planting trees for the aboakyer festival 2017.  Link

   

  Published March 2024

  

  Barbara Lutz-Sterzenbach

  An energetic scene. Five men in a flat landscape approach the viewer. Their bodies are naked - except for their loincloths - their faces grim. Muscles in the bright light stand out under the skin, their chests bulge voluminously - they are timeless heroes. The men do not look at the viewer of the picture. With their long, dark sticks firmly in their strong hands, they gather symmetrically around the bald man in the foreground. He presents himself with an antelope in his raised arms. His bald skull points to the left, as does the antelope's head.

   

  On closer inspection, some things are irritating. Are the men dancing or walking? Where is the animal spatially located? Somehow it is on the shoulder of the man, but the legs are captured by the men behind, who would be much too far away for that. Is an event, an episode (as in a photograph) depicted? Or does the symmetry of the composition speak more of a constructed symbol, a sign, as in an emblem? The latter would support the strict division into horizontal planes: with the islands of grass in the foreground, the flat, ochre-coloured plane in the middle ground and the forest with sky in the background. But then again many design principles undermine this order: the tense, energetic movements of the figures, the strong brushstrokes, the irregular shapes of the white clouds and the tufts of grass, the dynamic accents of the sticks.

   

  We know from our Ghanaian colleagues that what is depicted here, the catching of the animal, is part of a ritual celebration and a festival (the Aboakyer Festival). Here the moment is shown when the men have stepped out of the dark, hermetically sealed forest in the background with their prey and now present themselves in the bright light with their success. A comparison with the results of an image search on the internet for “Aboakyer festival” (Fig. 2) shows that this is the iconic moment. Here the idea of the festival seems to be condensed. And this also explains the emphasis on muscles: the hunters must be well trained to match the animal's speed and strength.

   

  

  Fig. 2 (Google search for "Aboakyer Festival" on 9.9.2023 - the first page of results) Screenshot: Ernst Wagner

   

  Owuso-Ankomah's painting focuses on the men with the animal. At first glance, the painting shows above all the strength of the men. The space thus becomes the backdrop for their performance. Their bodies are not only idealised but theatrically exaggerated, their muscles as if illuminated by a spotlight. The geometric centre of the picture, through which the horizon also passes, brings the loincloth of the leader into focus (see fig. 3) - perhaps an allusion to male potency?

   

  

  Fig. 3: Composition sketch (horizon and geometric centre) Photo: Ernst Wagner

   

  A comparison with photos on the same theme from the Heritage Centre in Winneba (see Fig. 4-6) shows clear differences to the depiction in Owusu-Ankomah's painting. In the artwork, both animal and hunter have their mouths open, exhaustion is evident in both. In this way, too, man, animal and landscape are connected - despite hunting and death. The artist uses the warm ochre tones in such a way that the earth, the human body and the animal hardly differ in colour. Since the animal is still alive, its head does not have to be held. Thus, visually, it seems to elude a depiction of "being trapped", also due to the ambiguous spatiality described above. It could almost just as easily be understood as a triumphant appearance of the animal, to which the men are subordinate as bearers and assistant figures - comparable, for example, to Jan van Eyck's depiction of the lamb (see fig. 7), which also marks a mediating position between victim and victor, between human beings and God.

   

  

  Fig. 4-6: Photos from the Heritage Centre Winneba Photos: Ernst Wagner

   

  

  Fig. 7: Van Eyck, Lamb of God, Image Detail: Ghent Altar. Oil on wood, 350 x 461 cm
  Cathedral of St Bavo, Ghent

   https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=109213 [28.10.2024]

   

  This image sets against each other contradictory concepts: static-symmetrical-ordered vs. dynamic; accidental situation vs. deliberate staging; documentation vs. sign; hyperrealism in body and space vs. symbolic charge. It sets these contradictions against each other in the unity of the painting.

   

  Reference

  • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7W7IkJvL32E

   

  Published March 2024

   

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  Patrique deGraft-Yankson

   

  Fortunately, contemporary Ghanaian artists like Vincent Akwete Kofi and Kofi Antobam, who by their training, developed both the skills and the mindset to create and fully appreciate African arts have played major interventional roles. They, through rigorous production of masterpieces over the years, led the move to redirect the wavelength of Ghanaian artistic expressiveness along the paths of decolonization. A typical example of these arts is the Crucifix, the selected object for this discussion.

   

  The Artist – Vincent Akwete Kofi

  The Crucifix is a sculpture in the round, measuring 45x10x19 inches, and was created by Vincent Akwete Kofi, a Ghanaian artist who lived between 1923 and 1974. Characteristically, Vincent creates outstanding sculptures in humanistic forms. His sculptures speak to traditional African philosophies, ideals and beliefs (Grobel, 1970), and he through his works, seeks to reinforce the beauty, dynamism and complexities of African art. Indeed, Vincent’s artistic posture was largely informed by his training in the then Achimota College in the Gold Coast (now Ghana), an educational institution which sought to bridge the gap between European and African forms of knowledge (Woets, 2014).

   

  Description and interpretation

  The Crucifix was carved in tropical hard wood, one of Vincent Kofi’s preferred media, with the style and subject matter reminiscing his belief in the creative and objective fusion of lessons from the history of modernism in the arts by an immersion in his Ghanaian heritage. Like his earlier sculptures therefore, the choice of this Euro-Christian theme throws lights on his Pan-Africanism and decolonization intents. 

   

  The sculpture is a depiction of a free-standing human figure with features that conform with his earlier wood carvings, such as depiction of enlarged head and heavy feet which are more representational than naturalistic. Again, the entire form is seen as being directed by the limitations of the tree trunk deliberately chosen for the work. This, of course is one of Kofi’s traditional wood carving styling.

   

  The Crucifix is postured in a clasped forward-bent lower limb. Like the lower limbs, the upper limbs of the figure which are raised over the head and stretched backwards, are also clasped together, depicting the entire image in a rather discomforting posture. Further strengthening the feeling of distress and discomfort in the image is the dropped and lifeless face and facial features of the image. The long thick beard of the image with the tightly fitting cylindrical hat on the head, carved after one of those won by royals among some sections of Ghanaians, give the figure an elderly look.

   

  Other significant features of the image are the exaggerated clasped, forward-bent and wobbly elephantine feet, dropped face with shuttered eyes, flaccid body/skin/muscles (which is visible even in wood), and the heavy beard.

   

  In trying to understand the presentation of the Crucifix, it is important to note that Ghanaians have stories about characters who lived and suffered similar fates as that of the Christ. The Fante people (a section of the Akan ethnic group), for example have records on a man called Ahor, who offered himself as a sacrifice to the gods, when the life of a human being was demanded as an antidote to a calamity which befell the people. Up to today, Ahor is celebrated in a festival called Ahorbaa to commemorate his brave and sacrificial feat. Other ethnic groups in Ghana have similar stories which render the Passion of the Christ not just a familiar phenomenon, but a lived experience recorded in the history of the people.

   

  Also worthy of notice is the familiarity of the various themes which characterize the story of the Christ, such as his kingship, miraculous personality, sacrificial journey and his eventual torture and death. The Crucifix therefore, was Vincent Kofi attempt at depicting the passion of the Christ in a way that would make it familiar and relevant to the people.

   

  The image in Kofi’s Crucifix was therefore needed to be presented as a man with royal personality, as depicted in the cylindrically shaped cap, which is symbolic of some of the Ghanaian royal millinery that depict kingship and authority. This is reinforced by a heavy beard to portray wisdom. Wisdom which is reserved for kings and aged people.

   

  Analysing from the experiences of a people whose history was not devoid of unpleasant experiences, such as enslavement, brutal torture and execution, the image presented in the Euro-Christian Crucifix could not have been a complete representation of the Man of Sorrow described in the Christian holy book (Isaiah 53:3). Kofi therefore saw the need to present a figure which paints a real picture of a man who had gone through an extreme physical pain. Those strong and heavy, yet wobbly feet were a symbol of a man overburdened with sorrows and sins of the world.

   

  Indeed, the man on the Crucifix was dead, with no chance of maintaining a smooth and shiny skin as seen in the Euro-Christian crucifix. In Vincent Kofi’s Crucifix, therefore, he, even in wood, managed to present a flaccid body/skin and muscles which, with the closed eyelids, dropped and lifeless face gave an impression of an extremely tired dead body. Probably an artistic rendition that comes close is Mel Gibson’s crucified Christ in his movie, the Passion of the Christ.

   

  Conclusion

  Early missionaries introduced the Christian religion with its attendant icons, images, stories and language in 1400s. Semblance in religious icons, images, stories and their associated functions made the acceptance of Christianity easier among indigenous Africans/Ghanaians. Vincent Kofi’s Crucifix could therefore be considered as a great effort towards connecting foreign Christian belief systems to known religious experiences, thereby making Christianity much more relevant to the African than it has been.

   

  References

  • African Artists in America (1978). African Affairs, 11 (3), 84-85.
  • Frank, B. (1999). The Visual Arts of Africa: Gender, Power, and Life Cycle Rituals by Judith Perani and Fred T. Smith (A review).  African Affairs, 11 (3), 14-16.

  • Kwami, A. (2016). Kofi, Vincent Akwete (1923–1974). In the Routledge Encyclopedia of Modernism.: Taylor and Francis. Retrieved 31 Dec. 2021, from https://www.rem.routledge.com/articles/kofi-vincent-akwete-1923-1974. doi:10.4324/9781135000356-REM845-1

  • Moore, G. (1967). The Arts in the New Africa African Affairs, 66 (263), 140-148.

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  Ebenezer Kow Abraham

  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah and the Placemaking Paradigm  

  Within the rebranding and the making of new identity for Winneba as enshrined in the Effutu Dream Project, the name Theophilus Kwesi Mensah cannot be overlooked in this intercourse. This is not only because he engineered the widely talked about installations: the Unity Monument, The Aboakyer Monument, The Fishermen of Akosua Village and the Monument of Ofarnyi Kwegya but the awe-striking aesthetical connotations he incorporated in the aforementioned works. Each of these statues were rendered to mimic the idea of Winneba as a community built on a collective space.  Being native of Winneba, heightened his understanding of how the amalgamation of economic, political, and cultural activities in the past, would accord him the impetus to express himself publicly. In so doing, he empowered his sculptures to ventriloquy the unique narratives that define Winneba and redefine this relatively old settlement yet burgeoning municipality as a dwelling place or a place worth visiting.

   

  

   Figure 1: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Ofarnyi Kwegya, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. Yeepimso Community Centre, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  Through the lens of placemaking, Ofarnyi Kwegya (Figure 1) and the Fishermen of Akosua Village (Figure 2) are two typical statues that has beautified the vernacular space of two historical settlements in the older southern half of Winneba.

   

  

  Figure 2: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Fishermen of Akosua Village, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. Akosua Village Community Centre, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  The two statues stand in the middle of Yeepimso and Akosua Village communities respectively as embodiments of vital ingredients helping in creating a sense of community, civic identity, and culture in both spaces. They have both transformed their unique sites as lively and attractive communities with the monumental figures not just becoming legible maps to the sites but turning the spaces into places that support human interactions. The site of the statue has become the most important and attractive places in the two communities. They have become the center of attraction where the community gather for entertainment and trade, especially at night when economic activities in the two communities are at their peak.

   

  

  Figure 3: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Unity Monument, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. The Unity Square, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  Another compelling monumental statue that has transformed the landscape of its site is the Unity Monument (Figure 3). Before the advent of the monument, the site of the statue (the Y-intersection – Winneba Traffic Light) was a deserted barricaded mere chaparral which displayed all forms of notices including obituaries and political posters (Mensah & Abraham, 2022). Yet, Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s statue has transformed the space into an ideologically charged space for a deliberative unity and peace agenda in Winneba. The environment is so aesthetically pleasing that people like to visit the site for selfies and sightseeing thereby generating income for the Municipal Assembly.

   

  

  Figure 4: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, The Aboakyer Monument, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. Osimpam Museum, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s ontological orientation of Winneba is multifaceted. Hence, he found significance in the century’s old festival of the people of Winneba, Aboakyer to sculpt a monumental statue to this honour (Figure 4). The Aboakyer Monument mounted on the roof-top of the Osim Pam Museum is at the heart of Winneba as an embodiment of Winneba’s heritage. Owing to the enormous narratives surrounding the Aboakyer Festival, it is seen as one of the most popular and most significant festivals in Ghana (Akyeampong, 2019). The people of Winneba are invariably identified by the Aboakyir Festival. Theophilus Kwesi Mensah captured the very essence of the festival by vividly depicting the most significant characters: the Supi, the Asafo warriors, and their cheer leaders in procession with the catch. 

   

  During the 2022 Aboakyer Festival, it was observed that both celebrants and tourist were awe-struck by the aesthetic connotations of the monument. People gathered around the site for various reasons. Whilst some were seen taking tourist photos, others were seen venerating the ancestors who in the past led the festival.

   

  In view of the Effutu Dream Project, Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s artistic ingenuity to a large extent has contributed to rebranding the Winneba Township by beautifying the place and making it attractive for tourist. However, beyond the beautification agenda, part of the underlining philosophy of the statues was to consciously bring to the fore, some compelling memories of Winneba in relation to the current narratives within the land.

   

  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah and the Collective Memories of Winneba

  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah capitalized on his creativity to translate some notable historical events pertaining to his beloved native, Winneba into tangible remnants of the recent past to shape and, indeed, consolidate the Effutu Dream Project.  Whilst usurping a storyteller, he equipped his statues to mimic the historiography of Winneba as collective memorials for the publics of Winneba. This is underpinned by his inclination to the truism that cities are built based on their histories and for that matter, Winneba cannot be gentrified without laying claims to the past publicly. Therefore, he ensured that whilst the Effutu Municipal Assembly initiated the Effutu Dream Project, the glorification of the public triumphs of Winneba was not taken for granted.  This desire culminated into transforming some important public vernacular spaces into storehouse of memories embedded and inscribed on the landscape of Winneba.

   

  

  Figure 5: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Ofarnyi Kwegya, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. Yeepimso Community Centre, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  

  Figure 6: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Fishermen of Akosua Village, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. Akosua Village, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

  Knowing Winneba traditionally as a fishing community, Theophilus Kwesi Mensah produced two major monuments, Ofarnyi Kwegya (Figure 5) and the Fishermen of Akosua Village (Figure 6) as a concretized instantiation to the noble trade that has in the past defined what place Winneba is.  Ofranyi Kwegya, is the statue of the unheralded giant master fisherman, an exponent of mid water trawling in Winneba who captured huge number of fish whereas the Fishermen of Akosua Village depict the famous trio: Zagada Afadzinu, Kwami Akpade and Sogbka Dagodzo who introduced artisanal fishing or subsistence fishing to Winneba.

   

  Although the fishermen portrayed in these monumental statues have died long ago, they constitute such significant heroes in the historiography of Winneba. In view of their important roles in the socio-economic phenomenology of Winneba, Theophilus Kwesi Mensah aimed at stopping their decay and position them into the realm of the timeless with the erection of their statues as memorials that transmit their archetypal narratives.

   

  

  Figure 7: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah, Unity Monument, 2021. Fibre Reinforced Polymer. The Unity Square, Winneba. Courtesy of Edem Dedi Photography.

   

  In view of Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s understanding of the political and dynastic heritage of Winneba, he engineered the construction of the Unity Monument in commemoration of the end of the protracted chieftaincy feud that had ensued in Winneba in the past. Ephraim-Donkor (2019) recount that since the latter part of the nineteenth century, the people of Winneba have clashed in violent struggle for power until 22^nd July, 2015 when the Supreme Court of Ghana, finally intervened. The feud was rooted in an uncanny clash of cultures within the same family three, resulting in a political quagmire as to which succession mode to follow, the male or female model. The people of Winneba traditionally follow the patrilineal line of succession, however the Acquahs who are for the female model, tasted power as caretakers but refused to cede power back to the original benefactors, the Otuano Royal Family (Gyatehs or Gharteys) who are for the male model.

   

  The female model became popular in Winneba because of their hospitality which allowed their Akan neighbours to live with them and rendered Winneba as a cosmopolitan community. Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’ depicted the two families, Gharteys and the Acquahs and a third figure representing the non-natives as a united force in the gentrification of Winneba as they erect a flag as signifier to this commitment. The Unity Monument does not only exhibit an aesthetically astute display of Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s artistic ingenuity but also, it encapsulates the political and dynastic history of Winneba whilst being a crucible of memory to the unity and peace in Winneba presently.

   

  As part of Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s memorialization agenda with regards to his statues in Effutu Dream, he produced the iconic Aboakyer Monument as a memorial to the Aboakyer Festival of the Effutus of Winneba. The Aboakyer, known throughout Ghana as the "Winneba Deer Hunting Festival," is held annually in early May. It commemorates the founding of Winneba some three centuries ago, when the Effutu, led by one Osim Pam and accompanied by the god Penkye Otu, settled on the coast at the end of their migratory journey from northern Ghana to the present location.

   

  Pedagogical Connotations of Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s Statues in Effutu Dream

  As artist academic, having been under the tutelage of the Emancipatory Art Teaching Project (EATP) by Professor kąrî’kạchä seid’ou, he is an alley of the blaxTARLINES community in Kumasi.  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s practice ties in with contemporaneity in the arts. In his teaching, he identifies with the philosophy that trainee art educators ought to think and act creatively. He does this by championing their epiphany in the studio as nexus of exploring emerging issues in art education. Through the studio, his statues in Effutu Dream creatively imparts on his students as agents of transformation in addressing the urgent call for equity, diversity, and inclusion in our educational structure and practices.

   

  Whilst his students have the liberty to choose their own masters, he has been readily available, and the doors of his studio was opened to all students who loved art whilst working on his statues in Effutu Dream. After all, he too has absorbed lessons from legendary Ghanaian Artist Academics such as Benjamin Menya, Kwamevi Zewuze Adzraku and Buckner Komla Dogbe. So, students with varied backgrounds are mainstays in his studio beyond the statues in Effutu Dream. He reckons the studio space as a crucible of intellect and a window to add to knowledge as his students pick his brain as apprentices there.

   

  

  Figure 8: Theophilus Kwesi Mensah working with his students (Courtesy the artist)
  

   

  Despite his inclination to EATP, he does not sway from being a traditionalist in the sense that he continues to enjoy working from the human figure. His preference to the human figure in his statues in Effutu Dream was informed by the truism that life changes and the language of sculpture evolves. So, it does not really matter if he is being repetitious with a subject that has preoccupied sculptors throughout history. Yet, as didactic symbols, he sought to make explicit what many sculptors make implicit in contemporary memorials in a classical sense with his figurative renditions.

   

  Whilst the public may tend to be passive receptors of his statues in Effutu Dream, his students cannot afford to be indifferent. There are obvious educational imperatives they naturally cannot ignore. As far as they look and see the statues, there are predisposed to learn from them by asking questions. Reis (2010) citing Silva (1984) concerning public art claimed that even if we do not pay any attention to it, daily contact influences our attitude towards the conservation of artworks and our intellectual and sensory appropriation of them. What more do students need to get motivated in their studies aside having the opportunity to see the works of their lecturer installed all over the community? As artist academic, Theophilus Kwesi Mensah thrives to integrate his vast knowledge in the art into the practice of cultivating artistic design talent. His contribution to knowledge is application oriented. His statues in Effutu Dream make meaningful contributions to practical solutions that are at the core of art education. His students garner the nuances of what he says in the classroom when they see his statues in town.

   

  Conclusion

  Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s ingenuity as a sculptor, draftsman and an academician are undeniable, so too is his energy and prolific creative output in the wider Effutu Dream Project. Within a trilogy of paradigms, he displays a profound representation of Winneba as a beautiful place to live and work. He does so by immortalizing four important collective memories of the town whilst using Fibre Reinforced Polymer, a material that stands the test of time and exudes a sense of eternalness. In the process, his students tapped into his creative sense both at his studio and on site.

   

  Whilst Theophilus Kwesi Mensah’s artistic praxis is eclectic, what I have sketched is a heuristic effort to describe his monumental contribution in the Effutu Dream Project in his beloved Winneba where he lives and practice as artist academic. The few details I have carved may at times be minor, but they add up to have a larger impact to his contributions in the effort to redesign and develop Winneba.

   

  References

  • Akyeampong, O. A. (2019). Aboakyer: traditional festival in decline. Ghana Social Science Journal, 16(1), 97.
  • Farman J (2015). Stories, spaces, and bodies: The production of embodied space through mobile media storytelling. Communication Research and Practice 1(2): 101–116.
  • Mensah, T. K. & Abraham, E. K. (2022, June). The unity monument: A hope of the end to the political quagmire in simpa. Paper Presented at The Creative Arts Conference, University of Education, Winneba, Ghana
  • Reis, R. (2010). Public art as an educational resource. International Journal of Education through Art, 6(1), 85-96.

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  Paul-Henri Souvenir ASSAKO ASSAKO

  Through its form, it reveals the modern urban context, a composite universe whose harmony is constantly negotiated in the logic of the delicate assemblages that characterizes the artist's technique. The work also reveals the socio-cultural mutations of which the artistic practice becomes an expression with its new form. Through the processes of recycling and assembling industrial waste, through the monumental appearance of a work whose silhouette recalls a human figure, through its installation on a roundabout, La Nouvelle Liberté brings together the elements of a manifesto of the transformation of cultural practices and particularly of the visual arts in the second half of the 20th century in Cameroon.

   

  

  Screenshot from the entry about Douala on Wikipedia

   

  This sculpture is special because of the context in which it was created. The commissioning of the work was part of the first projects of the very first and almost unique contemporary art center in Cameroon, doual'art (1991). The Centre was born in the aftermath of the adoption of the law on freedom of association (law No. 90-53 of December 1990). The approach to artistic promotion that it adopts is defined by the principles of artistic act-action-activism as the main modalities of intervention in the city of Douala. It is in this approach that doual'art commissioned the sculpture from Joseph Francis Sumégné.

   

  Doual'art's artistic project SUD2017 (Link) is a clear expression of the freedoms to which Cameroonian society ardently aspires, according to the president of doual’art, Marilyn Douala Bell. She describes its context as follows: “while the project’s gestation began in 1981, after the election of Francois Mitterrand as president of France, the two principal triggers occurred in the 1990s in Cameroon: firstly, socio-political movements incited the people to seize the street and reclaim “democracy” and, secondly, there was the promulgation of December 1990 law authorized freedom association for the first time in this country” (I. Pensa & al., 2017, 9).

   

  Nouvelle Liberté is one of the major works that marks the transformation of artistic practice in Cameroon which now focuses on the contemporary national society in its various historical, socio-cultural, political and economic aspects. The work takes a great conceptual dimension; it draws material from the field of negotiation and change of cultural meanings in the same context that inspires the image it reflects. For Sabine Breitwieser “for many this field has become the basic practice, focusing on actions and processes along the connecting line between the arts, everyday life, and politics” (A. Alberro & S. Buchmann,2006, 9-10).

   

  Joseph Francis Sumégné explores the urban world both from the material and the conceptual perspective. According to Joana Danimbe (2021), the city is a field of experimentation that affects the work of this artist. The process of making the work and its title place the observer in a critical relationship with urban modernity. The sculptural work echoes the city in which it is erected. It echoes it by its constructed form through a process of assembling diverse heterogeneous elements, industrial waste (plastics, metals, alloys of all kinds) that the city has difficulty in absorbing.

   

  

   Sumégné, Nouvelle Liberté, Detail (Creative Commons)

   

  The difficulties posed by the management of industrial waste is only one aspect of the work, which questions the impact of the accelerated modernity of the mentalities of city dwellers, which Yakouba Konaté notes as new and characteristic in African cities (Assako, 2011, 103). In this context of modernity par excellence, it is difficult to guarantee the harmonious development of those who live there. The latent tribal and communal tensions in these cities are a sufficient proof of the fragility of this harmony. For example, the nickname "Nju Nju (evil spirit) of Deido” given to Sumégné's work highlights some aspects of the limits of collective integration posed by the cities. The artist reminds us that: “this negative designation is based on the strong protests voiced by native populations against La Nouvelle Liberté. After these first polemics, mainly concerned with aesthetical features of the sculpture, a violent controversy was raised by the media on the origins of the artist (who hails from the western part of Cameroon) taking the fold of an ethnic struggle between the indigenous people of Douala. For such reasons, La Nouvelle Liberté was officially inaugurated only eleven years later, during SUD 2017” (I. Pensa & als., op cit., 93).

   

  The city of Douala, the economic capital of Cameroon, makes the facts of social and cultural transformation, industrialization and related issues in Cameroon remarkably appreciable. Douala is the most important port city in Cameroon and Central Africa. It is a city of great industrialization. The economic opportunities offered by the city make it a real national and international pole of attraction and an important migratory drop-off point as well. The city is therefore a center of great demographic concentration and mixing. It is reputed to be the most polluted city in Cameroon due to its industrial and economic activities and its human density. It is also the city most exposed to social implosion due to the high number of young people who find themselves in precariousness and in search of decent employment. The balance of urban life depends on the city's capacity to promote a process of integration which leads to the construction of a collective identity.

   

  

  On the right: J.NicolasKondaYansa. Vue aérienne de Douala (Creative Commons).

   

  This is the phenomenon that the image of Sumégné's work has succeeded in bringing about in Cameroon over the past twenty years. It has crossed the phase of rejection and critical questioning to become the object of collective appropriation and an emblem for the Douala people in particular and the Cameroonians in general. "By recovering rejected objects, the artist becomes by force of circumstances a full-fledged actor in the organization of urban life, sharing the basis of his innovative thinking on the relationship between cities, cultures, representations of working-class neighborhoods and environmental ecology. “In his thinking, the city is a place where the intimate (the family side, religion and its rites) and the universal (openness to other cultures within the city) meet” (Joana Danimbe, op cit., 33).

   

  However, this collective identity is not given. There are permanent conflicts between rural and urban, rich and poor, order and anarchy, libertinism and freedom, civic-mindedness and uncivil behavior, etc. For politicians, however, national development is expressed through actions that are generally in vain and aimed at giving a 'modern' appearance to cities. It should be noted, however, that the urban ecosystem, on a social level, lives on the permanent 'daptaïsme^[1]' (S. Andriamirado, 2002) of city dwellers in search of a balance between the socio-economic and political references of Western modernity and those relating to the various local customs that are superficially apprehended. In such a context, flourishing in the city takes its trajectory from inventive intuitions as demonstrated by Sumégné in the process of shaping La Nouvelle Liberté. The artist's bold work imposes itself on the city dwellers in the form of a new experience. He magnifies this experience through the novelty and singularity of the codes of representation of his artistic work. The elements offered by the city and used by the artist to create his works are chosen on the basis of two main values: they are true generators of ideas and they are  inspirers of structures.

   

  The verticality of Sumégne's work is evident at the Deido roundabout, which is one of the main entries of the city of Douala. The sculpture has a human silhouette and stands on a concrete pedestal. Its posture describes a movement whose balance is suggested by an asymmetrical gesture and a distribution of masses and volumes in relation to the vertical axis. The ascending tension of the monumental sculpture is supported by the base of the right foot, crosses the trunk, the head and ends on the globe which caps the upper end of the work. The movements described by the limbs make the sculpture even more dynamic. The bent left leg crosses the right leg at knee height from behind. The position of this leg structures the pelvis and the part above the knees of the figure in a truncated cone shape. The upper left arm is raised above the head to hold the globe and the right arm is bent and oriented as if to rest on the hip with the fist closed.

   

  

  Steve Mvondo, NadègeNN: Sumégné, Nouvelle Liberté (Creative Commons left / right) 

   

  A dynamic posture that gives the work pride of place, but also conveys a sense of fragility. This proud appearance is further suggested by the expressiveness of the statue's circular head, which draws a smiling face or a sun. The attention paid to the elegance of the statue can be seen in the details of the adornment on the work. The neck is outlined with a grey band that acts as a necklace. The same band is used to define the belt worn by the figure. A sort of waistcoat covers the figure's torso and contributes to the attention to the adornment being a characteristic detail of the work. The care given to the detailed elaboration of this kind of waistcoat enhances the drawing, engraving, upholstering, painting and sculpting skills, which allow the artist to easily interweave the traditional with the modern and the modern with the traditional through the technique. The technical game describes a stirring of the memory in which Sumégné crosses the past and the present in a delicate process of balance, harmony and construction of a work of art that the work gives to appreciate.

   

  The accelerated modernity of mentalities is accompanied by deviations rather than guaranteeing the expression of freedoms favorable to the construction of a collective identity and a more social dimension of the meaning of development in the cities. The Cameroonian city must cease to be a mere showcase for political celebration / instrumentalization and a springboard for socio-professional accomplishment for city dwellers and become the real space for a new life, a sustainable life. Art, as illustrated by Nouvelle Liberté, has embarked on this path by investing itself materially and conceptually in the urban environment: The contemporary art scene in Cameroon's economic capital, which is one of the most active and committed in urban Africa, is itself in constant movement. Objects, ideas and practices are given new meanings on a daily basis, often politically, and which, like “La Nouvelle Liberté", highlights questions of identity, the right to speak and self-determination (D. Malaquais, 2006, 122).

   

  Published 2020

   

  References

  • Alberro Alexander & Buchmann Sabeth. 2006.  Art after conceptual art, Vienna, Austria, Generali Foundation, pp.9-10
  • ANDRIAMIRADO Virginie. 2002. « Tout est prétexte à la création », entretien avec Ndary Lo, in « Africultures, n° 48 » Éditions l’Harmattan, 63-67
  • Assako Assako PH.S. 2011, l’art au cameroun du XXe au début du XXIe siècle : étude des expressions sculpturales en milieu urbain, thèse de Doctorat/Ph.D. en histoire de l’art, Université de Yaoundé
  • Danimbe Joana.2021. Joseph Francis Sumegne, le méditoire du Jala’a, Paris, Ed. Fondation Blachère
  • Dominique Malaquais, « Une nouvelle liberté ? Art et politique urbaine à Douala (Cameroun) », Afrique & histoire 2006/1 (vol. 5), p. 111-134.
  • Lagnier Sylvie. 2001. Sculpture et espace urbain en France, histoire de l’instauration d’un dialogue 1951-1992, Paris, Ed. l’Harmattan
  • Pensa Iolanda & als. 2017. Public art in Africa, Genève, Metis Presses

   

  ^[1] Vocabulary borrowed from the Senegalese sculptor NDARY LO, who designates "daptaïsme" as a philosophical principle on which his art is based, and which consists in adapting to everything and in all circumstances. The artist collects salvaged objects that he diverts and manipulates according to the circumstances of his creation. So, the urban ecosystem adapts and cobbles together alternative solutions on a day-to-day basis.

   

  

  The artist working in his studio 2019 (Photo Ernst Wagner)
  

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  Osuanyi Quaicoo Essel

  Different cultures may practise different hair beauty culture. Some of the hair beauty cultural practise could be unisex or may distinguish between sexes. In this instance, hair becomes a tool for sexual differentiation and serves as a precursor to one’s gender. It may tell which part of the world a person hails from. That notwithstanding, one may borrow hairstyles from different cultures other than his or her own for fashionable reasons since fashion inspiration is multicultural. Based on the cultural orientation and the role of a particular hairstyle to a group, society or institution, hair aesthetic ideals may be preserved as a tool for identity construction. A typical example of a hairstyle that has remained resilient even in the face of (neo)colonial and imperial hair aesthetic regimentation of the West on Africa is kentenkye hairstyle (Akan Women’s Hairstyle, 2008), popularly renamed as dansikran. Legendary has it that, queen mother Nana Kwaadu Yiadom II, (1917 - 1945), the sister of Nana Prempeh I, of the Asante Kingdom, performed the majestic Adowa dance during the restoration of the Asante Confederacy around 1935 in her kentenkye hairstyle, which inspired the then Governor’s description of her kentenkye hairstyle as a 'dancing crown' (Akrase, 2008) due to its visual effect during the dance. The phrase ‘dancing crown’ was linguistically corrupted as dansinkran which has become the popular name of the hairstyle.

   

  The dansinkran hairstyle is noted for its simple, yet iconic stature in purely indigenous Ghanaian cultural milieu. Its selection was informed by its historical epoch, purely indigenous natural hair beauty care and treatment and socio-political significance in Ghanaian chieftaincy. It has proven to be an unadulterated Ghanaian hair fashion practice necessary in the decolonisation of hair fashion discourse. It is important in the decolonisation of hair discourse in the sense that it is purely Afrocentric which has evolved from its symbolic status to contemporary appropriation. The use of purely natural and sustainable hair treatment cosmetics with little or no harmful effect on the body makes it worthy of handing down to youth. This is because, there has been influx of artificial hair cosmetics with detrimental dermal effects which many youth subscribe to in the name of modernity without recourse to its side effects. The historical significance and interest of this hairstyle for posterity, especially as something of Africa practise, contributes in this regard to the decolonisation process. Dansinkran polity and politics among Akan kings, queens, chiefdom and the society in general reinforced its choice.

   

  This hairstyle is achieved by trimming down the peripheries of the crown of the head almost to the skin while the remaining portions are trimmed to define the oval shape of a wearer’s head. The haircut gives the head a calabash-like shape. A natural black pomade-like colourant mixture composed of powered charcoal, soot and sheabutter, is then applied to the hair to give it intense blackened appearance. Charcoal has been in use for hair treatment in precolonial Ghana for many centuries. Considering the intense heat coupled with dust particle in Ghana and other African countries, the use of charcoal as hair treatment helped to protect their hairs from dust build up, dirt, oil and sebum that settled on scalp and negatively affects hair quality and growth. It implies that charcoal promotes hair growth. The natural hair colourant used in this process armours the hair with lustre and protection against bacteria and fungi. It nourishes the scalp and protects it from dandruff infections and maintains the hair’s natural moisture level. The eye lashes are also darkened to complement the facial look of a wearer.

   

  The haircut helps to focus on the facials of a wearer since the hair receives little or no elaborate ornamentation. Usually, queen mothers who wear this hairstyle are not supposed to wear earrings during possessions or durbars. Judging from the benefits of charcoal in natural hair treatment it is not surprising that it features as essential ingredient in modern cosmetics manufacturing.

   

  The dansinkran hairstyle serves as a socio-cultural barometer, political signifier and as a religious marker. This hairstyle help to identify queen mothers and female kings from other females. It is a symbolic hairstyle that was a preserve of the Akan feminine chiefdom and royals. Some priestesses also wear this hairstyle. Politically, the hairstyle symbolises authority, royalty and power of a female king or queen mother. In this sense, the hairstyle is status-defining in terms of the social rank. It is considered as inevitable lifestyle heritage that needs to be preserved among the chiefdom. When a king or chief passes on, a queen mother who is not wearing that hairstyle is not allowed to pay homage to him/her.

   

  In the case of queen mothers, they complement this hairstyle with a feminine Ghanaian fashion classic named queen mothers’ style. This classic consists of a wraparound fashion of a six-yard fabric that stretches from the chest regions to beyond the knee, which is accentuated by another six-yard fabric draped in toga style. The wearing of this classic in addition to the hairstyle has bestowed onto it, the name dansinkran, hence, both the hairstyle and the classic are named as such. Despite the symbolism of the hairstyle, it now worn by the youth in contemporary times. It has acquired the name sweat. The only difference is that the youth who wear the hairstyle do not apply the charcoal mixture on their hairs. It has become unisex hairstyle among the youth.

   

  The Western hair superiority politics could not erode the many centuries old hair identity visual code and marker that characterised the majority of the chieftaincy institutions in Ghana. As a traditional lifestyle culture that has proved unyielding despite black hair discrimination and politics, it is an important tool in the decolonisation of Afrocentric hair beauty culture practice and education.

   

  References

  • Akan Women’s Hairstyle. (2008). Retrieved from https://www.abibitumi.com/community/culture/akan-womens-hairstyles/
  • Akrase, N. (2008). Pomp, power and majesty. Retrieved from http://akrase.blogspot.com/2008_01_01_archive.html

   

   

  published March 2020

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  Natalie Göltenboth

   

  When I first entered Anna’s house¹, I was surprised to hear that it was a temple of the Afro-Cuban Santería religion, a place determined by the presence of the orichas – the sacred beings of Santería.  The objects of the interior did not reveal but seemed to hide their sacred meaning for the uninitiated viewer.    

   

  On our way through the house, Anna introduced me to a doll dressed up in white: Obatalá, the paternal oricha of wisdom and justice, with a cream cake on his right and a wide-eyed Bambi on his left. On the sideboard in the corner we greeted Yemayá, the maternal oricha of the sea, represented by a plastic bowl filled with water in which various floating animals swung and a Barbie, whose light blue lace dress complemented the turquoise colored water of the bowl. Finally, in a small wardrobe, the soup tureen of the goddess Ochún was decorated with two elegant Barbies in golden outfits, staring out of the darkness with their always flawless smiles. Two foreigners, charged with western ideals of beauty, who, in this context, had been commissioned with representing Ochún, the oricha of femininity, love and freshwater.

   

  The representation or illustration of sacred powers through everyday objects, such as toys, dolls and knickknacks, have held a strong fascination for me since I literally stumbled upon them in Santero households, and, thus, the question of how this transference of powers and meanings to ultimately mundane objects could occur has long accompanied me on my fieldwork.

  How can we interpret the fact that Ochún, the Afro-Cuban goddess of love and freshwater is visualized by a glittering Barbie doll sent to Cuba by Cuban family members living in the USA.

  We should take a look back to the beginnings of the history of this religion for a better understanding of these dolls on the altars of Afro-Cuban Santería. Between the 16th and the 19th century, people were moved from one world to another on the sea routes of the transatlantic slave trade, which connected West Africa with the Caribbean (and this, in turn, with Europe), where they would henceforth work as slaves on the plantations of white landowners.

   

  We should consider that people from Nigeria, Togo and Benin who had been deported to Cuba arrived in the New World without any luggage. The carved wooden sculptures of their gods, power objects, masks or costumes were left behind together with the African coastline. The transfer of religious concepts from Africa to Cuba, the Caribbean or Brazil, therefore, took place primarily in the minds of these people and remained dependent on this imaginative reservoir for long periods of time.

   

  Despite the fact that the Cuban social anthropologist Don Fernando Ortiz² still managed to collect some old carved wood oricha representations which had been produced during the colonial period in the 1930s to 1950s, the tradition of carving sculptures had not been resumed in the new situation in Cuba. The wooden oricha representations of Nigeria and Benin were replaced by smooth porcelain Madonna statues and the serious looking saints of Spanish folk Catholicism. Slaves from West Africa who were forced to worship the statue of Santa Barbara reacted with a phenomenon known as the syncretism of the Caribbean: statues of the Madonna and saints were interpreted as “reservoirs” of African deities and treated as such.   

   

  In the course of these syntheses, Santa Barbara is venerated as a representation of the virile oricha Changó, ruler of fire, thunderstorms and lightning. The Virgin of Regla, with her blue and white Madonna robe, is associated with Yemayá, the maternal oricha of the sea, and the Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre, in her church near Santiago de Cuba, is worshipped as Ochún, the oricha of love, creativity and sexuality. This possibility of reinterpretation, of “declaring something to be something else,” is tantamount to breaking the link between form and content and is the precondition for the unusual appearance of Barbies on the Santería altars.   

   

  As the colonial supplies in holy figurines diminished, colorful multiples of saints from Cuban mass production are found nowadays instead of the statues. Together with plastic dolls, Barbies or everyday objects, these new assemblages bear witness to the change of time and values, of new desires and new myths that move the people of Cuba today and are visualized on the altars.      

  Despite the fact that the connection of object and meaning has been blown up in modern Santería arrangements, it remains unclear to what extent new narratives are woven into the conception of the orichas when they are represented by new material objects: how much Madonna can one find in Yemayá, the oricha of the sea, and what is the relationship between a Barbie and an oricha? Referring to Marshall McLuhan’s³ famous statement that the medium is a significant part of the message, we can try a more specific interpretation of Barbies on Santería altars.

   

  Original Barbie dolls are commodities acquired in stores in the USA and sent as gifts by relatives. As commodities and gifts, they mirror family ties that have continued over decades connecting Cuba and the USA, countries that have been politically separated since the Cuban revolution in 1959. In addition, Barbie dolls are not only saturated with the sacred aura of the orichas, they are also simultaneously encrusted with a fine texture of Cuban dreams of consumption and the feverish delirium of departure. Like Catholic saints, Barbies are figurines which are highly charged with their own narrative: the story of Ken and Barbie in the US American glamour world is a story of success, power and consumption. In this sense, Barbies on Afro-Cuban altars represent the fusion of idealized body and lifestyle imaginaries with sacred Afro-Cuban entities and deified ancestors. And, in the end, the forces of the orichas are conjured for reaching exactly these reasons: to provide their adepts with power that enables them to achieve their goals and realize their dreams – be they capitalistic or of another sort.

   

  The reclassification of the Barbie doll from toy to altar object does not happen suddenly. The dolls have to undergo a transition process to become part of an altar installation. The dolls that appear on altars have been subjected to a ritual cleansing ceremony using decoctions of herbs associated with a particular oricha, which allows them to bear the vital power “Aché” of the sacred being. A bundle of herbs and other substances have been placed inside their bodies. Throughout these preparations, nothing has changed the appearance of the doll, which preserves its fashionable style and smile. What has changed is the idea about the object and hence its place – the Barbie is now part of a sacred altar installation.

   

  Barbie dolls watch the strollers from the illuminated doorways that line the dark streets of Havana. Powerful representations of forces, imaginations, places and practices, connecting Africa and Cuba as well as Cuba and the USA, blending  boundaries between dolls and gods, toys and power objects, commodities and sacred beings. They connect long-separated families and fragmented religious concepts. They guard the entrances of homes and watch over the desires of their inhabitants, who rely on the power of their Barbie goddesses.

   

   

  Footnotes

   

  1) Natalie Göltenboth. “Yemayá und der Spielzeugdampfer – Zur Sakralität der Ready-mades auf afrokubanischen Altären.” In Ideen über Afroamerikaner – Afroamerikaner und ihre Ideen. Beiträge der Regionalgruppe Afroamerika auf der Tagung der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerkunde in Göttingen 2001, edited by Lioba Rossbach de Olmos & Bettina Schmidt. Marburg: Curupira, 2003, pp. 107-127.

  2) Fernando Ortiz. Hampa Afrocubana: Los Negros Brujos. Miami. Universal, 1973.

  3) Marshall McLuhan. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Men. 1^st Ed. New York: Mc Graw Hill, 1964

   

   

  References

   

  • Brown, David H. “Thrones of the Orichas. Afro-Cuban Altars in New Jersey, New York and Havana”, African Arts, Oct. (1993) 44-87.
  • Danto, Arthur C. Transfiguration of the Commonplace. A Philosophy of Art. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1981.
  • Göltenboth, Natalie.2020. „Invoking the gods – or the apotheosis oft he Barbie doll“ IN: Philipp Schorch, Martin Saxer et al. Exploring Materiality and Connectivity in Anthropology and Beyond. London: UCL
  • Göltenboth, Natalie. “Yemayá und der Spielzeugdampfer – Zur Sakralität der Ready-mades auf afrokubanischen Altären.” IN: Ideen über Afroamerikaner – Afroamerikaner und ihre Ideen. Beiträge der Regionalgruppe Afroamerika auf der Tagung der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerkunde in Göttingen 2001, edited by Lioba Rossbach de Olmos and Bettina Schmidt. Marburg: Curupira, 2003, pp. 107-127.
  • Holbraad, Martin, and Morten Axel Pedersen. “Things as Concepts.” In The Ontological Turn. An Anthropological Exposition. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2017, pp. 199-238.
  • Willie Ramos, Miguel. “Afro-Cuban Orisha Worship.” In Santería Aesthetics in Contemporary Latin Art, edited by Arthuro Lindsay. Washington: Smithsonian Press, 1996, pp. 51-76.

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  Lydia Waithira Muthuma

  The two statues

   

  Walking around the rest of Nairobi’s city centre one comes across other statues that have no viewing restrictions. I comment on two of these that resonate, in a particular way, with the narrative of founding postcolonial Kenya: Kenyatta’s 1973 and Kimathi’s 2007 statues.

  Kenyatta (c.1894-1978) the first president and founding father of postcolonial Kenya, had a second statue made out of cast iron, by James Butler, a British national. It was finished in 1969, shipped to Kenya and unveiled in 1973. It depicts Kenyatta wearing the robes of a university chancellor –he was the chancellor of University of Nairobi from 1970 to 1978. It stands in City Square.

  

  Figure 2. James Butler, Jomo Kenyatta, Nairobi, City Square, 1969 (unveiled in 1973), Bronze, 750 cm © Lydia Muthuma

   

  Kimathi (1920-1957) also has a statue installed along Kimathi Street. He is the self proclaimed Field Marshal of the anti colonial Kenya Land and Freedom Army (KLFA) colloquially known as the Mau Mau. This movement was proscribed in colonial times and during the era of the first and second presidents of Kenya (1952-2003). But in 2003, Kenya’s third president, Mwai Kibaki, eventually unbanned Mau Mau and commisioned a statue in honour of Kimathi. The sculptor, Kevin Oduor, at the invitation of Kenyatta University's Department of Fine Art, made this statue.

   

    

  Figure 3. Kevin Oduor, Dedan Kimathi, 2006 (unveiled in 2007), Bronze, 450 cm © Lydia Muthuma

   

  The two statues (excluding the 1964 one) have similarities and differences that can be considered within the context of political history or through the artistic lens since they form part of Nairobi’s visual urban landscape. These statues represent two political figures, considered national heroes and therefore meriting public showing. Mass and volume, employed as the basic building blocks, are used to express emotional energy in a bid to engage the viewer’s affects. The chosen site of each statue (the situ) mediates the public’s affects.

   

  Siting the statues

   

  

  Figure 4.  Location of the different statues © Lydia Muthuma

   

  Jomo Kenyatta’s 1973 statue is placed in City Square with about one acre of land setting him apart from the surrounding buildings. Anyone walking into City Square, walks into this statue because it is the focal point. In traversing the square or accessing nearby buildings, one must pay visual homage to Kenyatta’s 1973 statue because of its setting; the geographical centre of the square (cf. figure 4 & 5).

  

  Fig. 5 City Square

   

  Kimathi’s statue is set in different surroundings. By the year 2007 when Kimathi’s statue was installed, empty 1-acre plots, other than City Square, were not to be had in Nairobi’s centre. In fact a heroes' corner was designated about 5 km due west, in 2006, but was deemed unsuitable for Kimathi's statue. The street named for him, right in the middle of the city, was the preferred site. So on a tall plinth, Kimathi stands at the southern end of Kimathi Street. (cf. figure 4 & 5) There is hardly any viewing distance because Kimathi’s statue stands on a tiny traffic island, amidst tall buildings like Corner House (15 stories) and the Hilton Hotel (20 stories). The statue is in the middle of a busy traffic junction – where Mama Ngina Street meets Kimathi Street. And because it is immersed in both vehicular and pedestrian traffic, viewers are treated to short interrupted glances of Kimathi, atop a pyramid-like plinth that was designed by members of Kenyatta University’s Department of Fine Art. Fleeting, staccato snap shots that punctuate the flowing vehicular traffic comprise the everyday viewing experience. Lack of space, attendant hubbub and noise are inextricably bound up with Kimathi’s statue.

   

  Meanwhile ample space and limited, if any, vehicular or pedestrian traffic, are the elements surrounding Jomo Kenyatta’s 1973 statue. He is represented twice life size to Kimathi’s mere life size. Unlike Kimathi, Kenyatta sits comfortably on a tall rectangular plinth. No wonder some say of Kenyatta's 1973 statue, “he is majestic, aloof...”, they are responding to—among other factors— the viewing experience, the physical placement and context of this sculpture. (cf. Figure 4 & 5)

   

  Through the artistic lens

  Statues of great men are often linked to significant historical happenings. Investigating their historical context is one way of ‘reading’ them. But it is not the only one. They can also be viewed as artistic components of the landscape they inhabit.

  

  Figure 6 Kenyatta’s 1973 statue surrounded by the iconic Kenyatta International Convention Centre and Times Tower. © Lydia Muthuma

   

  While the 1964 statue of Kenyatta was installed to mark the attainment of the country’s Republic status, (cf. figure 1.) it does not form the main subject of this article because of its inaccessibility to the ordinary Kenyan.The second statue of Jomo Kenyatta, which is the subject of this paper, was installed in City Square in 1973. Its situ (the 1973 statue) is about half a kilometer away from the Parliament buildings as shown in figure 4. It is curious that ten years after unveiling the first statue of Kenyatta (1964 to 1973) a second statue of the very same president was installed in City Square, near the first one. One wonders what prompted the erection of this second statue. Was the first lacking in any way? Because contemporaneous historical happenings do not supply a plausible answer, I turn to reasons artistic to account for the ‘double representation’ of Jomo Kenyatta.

   

  City Square was designed in the 1930s as Nairobi’s most central public space. During this era, the colonial government was working hard to convince London that Nairobi could become the capital of a ‘federated’ East Africa with internal self rule. Kenya was to go the way of Australia or Canada within the British Empire. Nairobi Town Square (now City Square) was designed to show off the High Court (now Supreme Court). The visual focal point of Town Square was a statue of the then reigning monarch, King George V of Britain. But when the second world war signaled the beginning of the end of the British Empire, and the Mau Mau rebellion, similarly signaled the end of colonial rule in Kenya, the statue of King George V had to come down. Change in political leadership caused change in displaying of statues. Therefore from 1964, when this statue was dethroned, City Square was without a focal point – visually.

   

  Even with the addition of the Kenyatta International Convention Centre (KICC) building, as a visual extension of the Supreme Court, the square still lacked visual balance and focal point. Thus in 1973, a second statue of Jomo Kenyatta was installed in order to solve this aesthetic problem. It took up the place that had borne King George V. The sculptor of this second statue, James Butler, was to fabricate work for a given site.It is in this sense that Kenyatta’s 1973 statue is considered site specific –the site was incomplete without the statue because previously it had held the statue of King George V, which was removed in c. 1963. Between 1963 and 1973, this spot was without a statue. Re-filling the gap, in this site, supplies a rationale for the repeated representation of Jomo Kenyatta –outside parliament in 1964 and in City Square in 1973; same person in the two statues.

   

  Dedan Kimathi’s statue is not site specific: it was first fabricated then a site decided upon –later. In comparison to Kenyatta’s 1973 statue, Kimathi’s, while smaller in size, is provided with little, if any, viewing distance. It is placed amongst tall buildings at the intersection of two busy thoroughfares. However, whatever its artistic (de)merit, it comes with a wealth of historical re-imagining. Kimathi’s statue is considered an active element in the processes of decolonisation today. (Mwangi, E. 2010)

  Again, unlike Kenyatta’s 1973 statue, Kimathi’s was not fashioned during his life time. It is posthumous since Kimathi was condemned to death by hanging, in 1956, for the crime of unlawful possession of a firearm. In reality though, his crime was rebelling against colonial rule as leader of the KLFA also known as the Mau Mau. The sentence was carried out in 1957 and his body deposited in an unmarked grave.Fifty years later – 1957 to 2007 – Kimathi’s statue was unveiled. The time lapse calls for a scrutiny and rationalization of ‘re-calling’ him from the dead. Why the need to represent him, by installing a statue, 50 years after his death? Political history is rife with explanations that are still on-going. (Julie MacArthur, 2019)

   

  An artistic probing of Kimathi’s statue; if it brings back this Mau Mau hero to life and whether it was meant to, presents several challenges because the statue appears more symbolic than an actual re-presention of Kimathi. This is because of its size and situ. Its scale, in comparison to the adjacent built environment, is miniscule. It does not command viewership although it is right in the middle of the public. Its size renders it pedestrian and somewhat not worth more than a passing glance. There is little about it to catch the eye of a passerby. It can be mistaken for one more ‘live’ pedestrian attempting to cross the street. It is ‘camouflaged’ by its size which makes it blend into the pedestrian traffic. Its success, in engaging the viewer’s affects, is debatable. And a significant contributor is the statue’s site.Once Kimathi’s statue was completed, a decision was arrived at to install it at the junction of Kimathi and Mama Ngina Street, within busy vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Viewers are treated to snap shot sights of it amid the unending caravan of commuter buses. This style of ‘seeing’ is easily translated into a similar mode of remembering; snap shot, unclear memories of Kimathi – who was he again?

   

  Conversely, in City Square, Jomo Kenyatta sits in the absence of interfering traffic; in the absence of impinging tall buildings and with ample viewing distance.  Commendations like: “the statue (Kenyatta’s 1973) is an island by itself and can be approached from multiple areas both visually and physically which is a valuable status within space defining elements (…) It has the unmistakable character of an icon and can easily be the best defined statue in the country (Kenya),” are not unusual. Truly, the site of a statue influences the viewer’s response. http://www.archidatum.com/projects/jomo-kenyatta-statue-james-butler/

   

  Conclusion

  Perhaps because of the historical circumstances the two statues –Kenyatta’s 1973 and Kimathi’s 2007 are viewed differently. They also evoke varied responses. What cannot be overlooked is that their siting (situ) contributes to their visual perception, which in turn influences the remembrance and mental picture retained by the public.

  The siting of both statues corresponds with Kenyatta being the central character in Kenya’s decolonisation narrative while Kimathi occupies the more peripheral position. Kenyatta (1973) sits in City Square while Kimathi is amid the hubbub of downtown Nairobi.

   

  References

  • http://www.archidatum.com/projects/jomo-kenyatta-statue-james-butler/
  • Mwangi, E. (2010). The incomplete rebellion: Mau Mau movement in twenty-first-century Kenyan popular culture. Africa Today, 57(2), 86-113.
  • Shanguhyia, M. S. (2019). Julie MacArthur, ed. Dedan Kimathi on Trial: Colonial and Popular Memory in Kenya’s Mau Mau Rebellion. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2017. xxvi+ 406 pp. Bibliography. Index. Paper. ISBN: 978-0896-803176. African Studies Review, 62(2), E12-E15.

   

   

  published October 2020

   

   

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  Priscilla Kennedy

  CONNECTING THE DOTS

  A Pilgrimage.

  My studio is literally a skein; an element that forms part of a complex whole. Everything that forms part of its composition to me is like a thread being pulled through the eye of a needle to form a tapestry of narratives as body of works. I have absolutely no idea of what impact the connection of these dots/knots will fabricate or the entirety of its arrival and that to me is where I get immersed in roller coaster of jouissance. That is how the idea of process even in the most pleasurable way becomes an integral part of the context in which I work as an artist.

   

  Unravelling.

  Here, I connect the dots/knots within the current situation running through my artistic journey. The space in itself has multiple sub spaces I call ‘moods’’. I swing in-between these moods literally in pursuit of a certain expression towards my interests and concerns. These mood swings take off from my IDEA BOARD (https://www.explore-vc.org/en/galleries-content/idea-board.html) where my thoughts appear partially in flesh. That for me becomes my point of departure into streams of decision making. In totality, it’s a snapshot of all my thoughts as a cohesive whole where I can make choices guided by my ultimate motivation at a given time, on a particular body of work.

   

  Then I swing into my RED BOOK (https://www.explore-vc.org/en/galleries-content/red-book.html) where I narrow down my thoughts into writings as part of a research. In transition from the previous mood of writing to this new mood is the optimum to my purpose, which refers to the making or the tangible expression. I deliberately swing back and forth between these two moods to create a certain dialectical relationship between them as a deliberate and crucial aspect to my practice. This opens up my explorations and discussions of the subject of the body, the politics of marginalization and subjugation from a feminine perspective with the use of materials and techniques connected to a certain body presence (craft).

   

  Enchanted by the Familiar.

  I see the body as a fluid material that morphs with time or momentarily based on certain conditions or instances. It is like that one thing that is connected to several things. I am interested in that materiality of the body that allows it to be transient. And in terms of that materiality, what it can become and what it can do.

   

  So, to me, the idea of the female body aside its continuous flux is my interest in something about it that creates a permanent or ongoing relationship with itself. That is how the idea of the hand with regards to craft becomes crucial to my practice. This is in reference to its past and present subtle association with subjugation or oppression or basically how the idea of subjugation and oppression is tied to work categorized in the frame of the domestic. That sense of marginalization or the coupling of an idea to a body that makes it lay claim to a certain power absence is of interest to me.

   

  With the hand, I rethink the value of craft.

  Through that there is already an acknowledgement of a certain distance that is brought back to close proximity with the body through intimate artistic approaches like thread embroidery and tambour beading. This is where I swing to my TAMBOUR TRESTLE SPACE (https://www.explore-vc.org/en/galleries-content/tambour-trestle-space.html), here, I make laborious and intimate embroideries that feature beads. I perceive this process of beading as a metaphor in reclamation of the self, while highlighting the residue of power that still lingers within the very same system of subjugation. It is a subtle performance that happens in the studio yet inherent to the context.

   

  A thousand Yards Away and Within.

  I am tempted to refer to my whole studio as a bigger idea board where certain themes and artistic strategies come together to form narratives and contributions to subjects of interest. In constant exploration and experimentation, a mash up of all these themes and artistic strategies may birth a work of art that offers a blend of fabric cut-outs merged with beaded patterns or forms in the current state of my practice. Yet, I am open to exploring diverse forms of expressions in relation to the context as time goes on.

   

  Absorbing the Far Fetched.

  I connect with materials from a perspective where I perceive them as political instruments that exist in time and not only as objects of enjoyment. I believe in the idea of a common vocabulary in the use of familiar materials and objects because they inherently possess personal and cultural meanings from spaces they have been.

   

  In Pursuit of…

  If I’m to imagine my destination (the ideal work) from the swinging I’ve been doing for some time now, I assume I’m going to arrive at a magical tapestry composed of fabric cuts outs of feminine bodies fused with other forms of embroidery that may features threads and beads. These materials and artistic approaches may be composed to create fantastical characters, emerging out of a playful hybridization of the human body and sometimes other life forms.

  My destination may not be a narrow one, I believe, but one of diverse interesting processes where I can achieve limitless possibilities in my creative projects. The narratives within the symbolic realm of imagery seek to emancipate the oppressed feminine body through a material and technique culture.

  

  Ernst Wagner

  

   Fig.2 & 3: Table in front of the window with bead embroideries (Photos: Priscilla Kennedy)
  

   

  In the photo we see the artist's studio; in it, work tools (such as rubber gloves, a sewing machine, rulers), materials to stimulate the artistic process (e.g. image sources, sketchbooks, materials) and artistic work results. The room is painted white, even the crumbling block in the right-hand corner. This echoes the idea of the "white cube" with neutral walls as a currently still valid basic model for exhibition spaces of contemporary art. Everything is very clean and tidy. On the three tables in the room, materials and tools are arranged like in a still life. For example, on the table in front of the (curtained) window, an arrangement showing, among other things, a round embroidery frame with a bead embroidery that is not yet finished: work in progress. Everything is obviously deliberately placed in this museum-like working space, which thus develops a programmatic expressiveness.

   

  

  Fig. 4 & 5: Print outs on the wall, red book (Photos: Priscilla Kennedy)
  

   

  Fabrics, textiles play a major role in this scenario. They are simply material (the kente fabrics on the right) or supports for the two larger works (also on the right). But they also play a major role in the many pictures (DIN A 4 printouts on the left wall), now as depicted clothing: women's dresses in older prints, on works of art (from ancient Egypt) to more recent photographs. Surprisingly, there are images of the vestments of Catholic priests and, beyond that, abstract fabric patterns, ornaments. Working with fabric (which also includes the embroidery frame) is repeatedly found as an important field of work for feminist-oriented artists or for a feminist-oriented visual language in contemporary art.

   

  The DIN A 4 printouts are partly annotated in writing, which reinforces the impression that we are dealing with a "picture atlas" in the sense of Aby Warburg or an "atlas" in the sense of Gerhard Richter, i.e. an often surprising compilation of pictures which in this combination can or should provide very systematic suggestions for pictorial design and for reflecting on contexts.

   

  This also includes the other collections of pictures in the room, in the photo album, on the computer or in transparent sleeves (on the right-hand table), which are obviously often biographically oriented, for example through the baby and children's photos, or through images of their own artistic works.

   

  The overall picture is thus dominated by central aspects of current "global art", an art that could just as easily be shown in Berlin or New York. In this one, however, site-specific aspects, i.e. aspects related to Kumasi, Ghana or West Africa, emerge again and again: the kente fabrics, the photos in the album, even the materiality and construction of the walls speak of the place of origin.

   

  

  Fig.6:  Priscilla Kennedy, o.T., experimental study (courtesy the artist)

   

  This coming together of different thematic layers becomes clear once again in a detail, the painting that the artist presents in her studio on the right wall and which she herself sees as a technical experiment (see illustration below).^[1] It shows an adaptation of Ingres' painting "Great Odalisque" from 1814, now in the Louvre. The superimposed head of an older white man (Arthur Schopenhauer) is reminiscent of the same pictorial strategy that the Guerilla Girls successfully tried out with the odalisque in 1989 by putting a gorilla head on it ("Do women have to get naked to get into the Met. Museum?"). While the other elements of the work vary the forms from Ingres' painting, mainly in colour and technique, there is one crucial addition in this work: a small baby in silhouette, black, looking up at Schopenhauer and casting a shadow on the pale odalisque body. The whole thing is printed or embroidered on a transparent, light fabric that throws folds.

   

  

  Fig. Ingres, The Great Odalisque, oil on canvas, 1814, Louvre (Copyright CC)
  

   

  These references make the picture seem familiar to Europeans, but in its combinatorics and with the harsh contrasts it is enigmatic, just like Kennedy's studio itself. Here, an icon of Western art is cheekily alienated, here the canvas becomes a thin nettle, here the woman becomes a man, the soft cushion becomes a hard wedge, the white woman gets a black baby. On the one hand, objects and their meanings are thus unambiguously designated and named, but at the same time, through the artistic formulation and its combination, they are placed in an enigmatic resonance space, which immediately eludes the unambiguous settings that have just been made. An "in-between space" between black and white skin colour, man and woman, opaque and transparent, old man and young child, European (old) art and West African (young) art.

   

  If one looks back through this image (which is taken here - against the artist's intention - as a key image) to the studio, one finds very similar constellations there: empty chasubles of Catholic, i.e. male priests against female bodies in erotically charged clothing, falling, soft fabrics against rigid measuring instruments from geometry lessons, physicality against abstract patterns and ornaments. With such contradictions Kennedy creates an experimental constellation, she spans a field that reports on possibilities in between without letting them culminate in a final work. The open, unfinished field of experimentation thus becomes the actual "work".

   

   

  ^[1]              "This work does not have a title. I considered it as an experiment to try printing with a blend of embroidery. What is actually piercing through from the back is also part of the experimental process where I made heat transfers again behind the fabric to see the interplay of images from various directions of the material. I do not consider it as a work but as an experiment. " (Information from Kennedy to the author via email on 5.10.2022)

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  Runette Kruger

  Cape Town based Tokolos Stencil Collective uses stencil and graffiti to address socio-political issues such as lingering racial inequality, labour exploitation, segregation, and poverty. The name of the collective refers to a dwarflike mythical being, the tokoloshe, that materialises at night to frighten unsuspecting victims, now mobilised by the Collective to “terrorise the powers that be”, or, the status quo of inequality (Tokolos-Stencils, 2015). The declared aim of the Collective is to highlight continuing spatial and social segregation in a post-apartheid South Africa (Botha, 2014).  

   

  The social discrepancies whereby the majority of South Africans continue to experience social and economic isolation are addressed by Adato, Carter and May (2006), who cite the Poverty and Inequality report of 2000. In the report, South Africa is described in terms of two parallel worlds, “one, populated by black South Africans where the Human Development Index (HDI) was the equivalent to [that of] Zimbabwe or Swaziland. The other … [populated by] white South Africa in which the HDI [was] between that of Israel and Italy” (Adato, Carter and May, 2006, p. 226). This inequality had, disturbingly, only deepened between 2000 and 2006, and in a March 2018 report by the World Bank, South Africa is cited as the most unequal country globally in 2015, based on the Gini coefficient of 0.63 of that year (World Bank, 2018, p42). The Gini coefficient measures the gap in income between the wealthiest and poorest members of a population. A score of 0 would indicate absolute income equality, and a score of 1 would indicate that one person owned all the wealth. This disparity, as well as the resultant exploitability of the poor, informs the Tokolos Stencil Collective’s main subject matter.  

   

  The most widely recognizable image associated with the Collective is the Remember Marikana stencil, which combines these words with an image of Mgcineni Noki, known as Mambush to his friends and family, or, within the context of the Marikana massacre, The man in the green blanket. The Marikana event played a formative role in the establishment of the Collective – it was founded in 2013 on the day of the first anniversary of the event (Anaya, 2014). The massacre is widely regarded as a watershed crisis, comparable with the Sharpeville tragedy of 21 March 1960, now commemorated as Human Rights Day.

   

  Noki was a community leader who became a prominent news figure in the days before the Marikana massacre, identifiable by the bright green blanket tied around his shoulders. The Marikana massacre took place on 16 August 2012 when striking miners working at the London-based Lonmin Platinum Mine in the North-West Province were gunned down by police wielding automatic rifles, violently ending a six day build-up of tension. Noki grew up in Thwalikhulu, a small village in the Eastern Cape, and was aged 30 at the time of his death. He had a wife and two year old daughter who lived in Carletonville, about 100km away. He is reported to have attempted to de-escalate the growing violent skirmishes, and to focus the gathered strikers on their aim – to increase their wages. The evening before the massacre, the miners were led to believe that if they returned to work, wage negotiations would begin. In the hours before the final events, while the miners’ repeated requests for negotiations were ignored, they were finally beseeched by their union to withdraw. Weighing up the growing indications of a final crack down, Noki began to lead a group of miners away from the outcrop of rock that had been the main scene of conflict over the course of the week. As they reached the nearby settlement their path was blocked by police and barbed wire. Noki led the men another route, only to be blocked again. The ensuing gunfire on the group led to the death of 17 men, Noki among them, identifiable by his green blanket as he lay on the ground. A second group of men were also attempting to leave the site, and were fired at with 295 bullets, resulting in 17 more casualties. The strike continued for another five weeks before the mining company agreed to negotiate. Pay was increased by 7% (Davies, 2015).

   

  I specifically chose this image of Noki, his arm raised while exhorting and encouraging his fellow workers, instead of the dehumanising imagery of up-close, lifeless mineworkers that was freely shared by the press. In contrast, this image in the Remember Marikana stencil shows him as a leader with courage and purpose, and has become an iconic symbol of the struggle for dignity and an adequate wage among the most exploited workers in South Africa, on whose labour an economy that they are unable to access, has been built. Commenting on the lot of the under-classes in 1940, during the impending humanitarian crisis of the Second World War, Walter Benjamin (1969, p. 255 original emphasis) reminds us that “every image of the past that is not recognized by the present as one of its own concerns threatens to disappear irretrievably ... To articulate the past historically ... means to seize hold of a memory as it flashes up at a moment of danger [failing which] even the dead will not be safe”. The Remember Marikana image reminds us that it is crucial to prevent the sacrifices of the most vulnerable members of society from slipping into the amnesia of oblivion.

   

   

   

  References

  • Adato, M., Carter, M.R., & May, J. (2006). Exploring poverty traps and social exclusion in South Africa using qualitative and quantitative data. The Journal of Development Studies, 42(2), 226-247.
  • Anaya, V. (2014, September 10). Tokolos Collective: “Cape Town is a very oppressive place for the poor”. Wiriko Artes Y Culturas Africanas. Retrieved from https://www.wiriko.org/tag/marikana/
  • Benjamin, W. (1969). Illuminations. Edited by Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken.
  • Botha, N. (2014, November 21). Tokolos Stencil Collective: 'Crap' art designed to unsettle. The Mail & Guardian. Retrieved from https://mg.co.za/article/2014-11-21-tokolos-stencil-collective-crap-art-designed-to-unsettle.
  • Davies, N. (2015, May 22). The savage truth behind the Marikana massacre. The Mail & Guardian. Retrieved from https://mg.co.za/article/2015-05-21-the-savage-truth-behind-the-marikana-massacre.
  • Tokolos-Stencils. (2015). Retrieved from http://tokolosstencils.tumblr.com/. 
  • World Bank. (2018). Overcoming poverty and inequality in South Africa: An assessment of drivers, constraints and opportunities. Washington DC, USA.

   

   

  published March 2020

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  Stefan Eisenhofer

  The philosophy of borrowing materials and tools, as well as visual motifs, from the local environment goes back to his student days at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology in Kumasi in the late 1960s. It was the creative efforts of local artisans there that inspired him to become interested in the philosophy of "Natural Synthesis" from 1975 onwards at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, where he is now Professor of Sculpture. This manifesto of the so-called "Zaria Rebels", whose members included Uche Okeke, at that time also a lecturer in Nsukka, postulated that local traditions should be interpreted using modern materials and techniques. This idea was to have a lasting influence on El Anatsui.

   

  A striking example of its expression in his work is the metal "tapestries" he has made since the late 1990s, which are actually sculptures rather than wall hangings. They consist of thousands of aluminium bottle caps discarded by Nigerian distilleries. Sorted by colour and prepared by El Anatsui's many assistants, they are stitched together with copper wire into "tapestries" several square metres in size. The tiny pieces of aluminium are arranged in patterns that evoke the narrow-band kente textiles made by Asante and Ewe weavers. However, this classical form of West African cloth is subjected by El Anatsui to a radical transformation in these works, which undermine the idea of metal as a rigid material. He transforms into something pliable and almost sensuous. Closely linked to this is the concept of a "nomadic aesthetic" involving fluidity of ideas, impermanence of form and indeterminacy. For El Anatsui this especially includes encouraging and even forcing the curators of his exhibitions to hang his works in accordance with their own ideas. He himself sees his wall hangings as physically unfixed and insists that there is no final and mandatory way of hanging them.

   

  In addition, El Anatsui creates connections with the aesthetic, political and economic roles of textiles – as an important component of global trade and consumer history, and as a significant vehicle for the transfer of ideas and creative ingenuity across cultures. Furthermore, he refers repeatedly to the function of kente cloths as a way of memorializing something, for they are often linked to events, people and historical or current issues: "You can memorialize a lot of things in cloth instead of having a statue in bronze," says El Anatsui and takes this up not only by naming some of his works after kente cloths, but also through the fact that the bottle tops he uses to create his "cloths" come from brands of liquor with names that refer to historical events.

   

  El Anatsui's wall hangings directly continue his idea of creating "transformations" of regional West African phenomena, and experimenting with materials that are important in the local cultural context. His artistic career began with wooden food trays from local markets which he decorated with burned or carved versions of adinkra symbols. The next phase was characterized by a series of broken and partially mended clay pots which served as a reflection on the current political situation in many African countries, and at the same time as an optimistic reference to the fact that clay pots are repairable and new uses can always be found for them: "When a pot breaks it's not the end of its useful life," says El Anatsui. Even breakage can lead to something new.

   

  In the 1980s he again turned to wood as a material, and discovered the chainsaw as a particularly suitable instrument for working African hardwoods. The chainsaw became for him a metaphor of the long history of violence to which the cultural traditions of Africa were, and still are, exposed. "Each process has its own peculiarities or language. [The chainsaw´s] language [is] of violence, of tearing, of clawing, of dividing," says El Anatsui.

   

  In the abstract wood sculptures of this phase the seed is already sown for something that runs through his work to this day: aesthetic comments on globalization and consumer culture, on the wastage of goods – and human lives. It is this aspect that has led to the great popularity of some of his works, for instance "Visa Queue" (1992), and in particular "Akua´s Surviving Children" (1996), which was made in Denmark while he was grappling with the theme of the slave trade. The stylized human figures made of driftwood show the damaging effects of water, wind and weather, the chosen material in itself a symbol of unprotected exposure: "The wood having (like the slaves) been torn from its land source and exposed to the hostile elements of water and wind."

   

  Linking aesthetic creations with political and economic issues is also a characteristic of those works in which he takes up the world's growing ecological challenges. This applies to his "Peak Project", created in 1999, which consists of numerous freestanding "peaks" made from thousands of glittering milk tin lids. Once again, the unfixed nature of the work is a prominent feature, the "peaks" taking on a different shape at each exhibition site. The open-endedness of his works can be seen in "Coal Pot", a work exhibited in the sculpture garden of the University of Kentucky Art Museum. It consists of a 15-feet iron cauldron filled with large pieces of Kentucky coal. In the course of time, the coal will disappear, gradually changing the appearance of the sculpture.

   

  El Anatsui has always been concerned with West African traditions facing the Global North under conditions of modernity, and in his special way he strives to give them new life and meanings that are of relevance today.

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  Bea Lundt

  The picture of Christine de Pizan and our knowledge about her life show that this is not true. Christine de Pizan (1364 – c. 1429), born as Cristina da Pizzano in Venice, was a poet and author at the court of King Charles VI of France. Christine produced a large number of vernacular works, in both prose and verse. Her works include political treatises, mirrors for princes, epistles, and poetry.

  This very famous miniature is an illustration from a book, handwritten in the years between 1410 and 1414 and preserved at the British Library in London (Harley MS 4431, Vol. 1, fol. 4 r). This manuscript contains texts by Christine de Pizan and is called The Book of the Queen, as it had been produced on behalf of and dedicated to Isabeau of Bavaria, wife of King Charles VI of France. There is another miniature showing Christine on her knees dedicating the book to the French queen. Christine can be identified by her facial features and style of dress.

  

  Detail of: Master of the Cité des Dames and workshop, 1413 - 1414, parchment, 36,5 cm x 28,5 cm, British Library, London. © British Library, London. Photo: the author

   

  In the centre of the aforementioned picture, a woman is shown sitting at a table and writing into a voluminous book. With her left hand, she is erasing coloured letters with a knife and with her right hand correcting them. This dynamic gesture of self-correcting fills her working situation with life. On her head is a headdress typical for a widow, the guimpe/wimple. Around the desk, we see some fictive architecture with a broad symbolic meaning: it shows a room which is specifically tailored to an intellectual working woman but also opens to the outside, as there are windows, an arch, and entryways. The roof of another storey marks the building as a town house. Though the scene is an interior one, the colours on the woman are bright, and there are warm red colours around her. This is different from older pictures showing clerical female authors in the narrow, closed rooms of a cloister.

   

  ‘Je, Christine’: An independent author defining her role in society

  The picture shows a professional female author in an urban context in the process of writing a book and working for the public, where she is honoured as being part of the highest level of society. There are similar pictures with Christine sitting behind her desk with an open book and people coming and arguing with her in a lively manner. In one, a young man, who has been identified as her son, stands in front of her and speaks to her. Another one shows four men visiting her in her room and discussing her writings with her. Sitting Christine, standing men: the arrangement shows that the guests will leave soon. Such encounters are also atypical for a cloister, which is said to be the usual space for educated women.

   

   

   

  Detail of: Master of the Cité des Dames and workshop, 1413 - 1414, parchment, 36,5 cm x 28,5 cm, British Library, London. © British Library, London. Photo: the author

   

  As experts see it, it was Christine herself who ordered the illustrator to characterise her in this manner. Several autobiographical comments of hers document that she liked to show herself living this individualist intellectual lifestyle. Traditional scholars call this typical for the Renaissance, which began a bit after Christine’s lifetime. Very often in her books we find ‘Je, Christine’ (‘I, Christine’), at the beginning of a chapter.

   

  Christine’s life story

  Christine was born in Venice in 1364 as the daughter of a doctor of medicine and astrology. He was called to the French court in Paris. Christine married a royal secretary and had three children. But then her father, her husband, and the king who had supported the family died. Christine was 25 years old and had to care not only for her children but also for her old mother and younger relatives living with her. She decided not to marry again but to support her living by writing. Her oeuvre contains poems alongside utopian, philosophical, historian, didactical, allegorical, and autobiographical texts. Noble families ordered her books and paid her well. In her old age, she escaped from the civil war in Paris to a cloister nearby where she died around 1429.

   

  The first secular female author in Europe

  With her Italian-French background, Christine is an example for the migration of intellectuals in southern Europe in the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance. She was not herself noble but came from an academic family and remained near the court. She was privately educated, mostly by her father, and also educated herself using the offer of the erudition centre in France. Living within a totally Christian cosmos with a spiritual way of thinking, she was not a clerical but rather a secular woman. In her books, she fought for gender equality, especially in education, as well as for recognizing the extraordinary performances of women in the past and in her own time. She wanted this knowledge to be part of a new understanding of history. She sharply protested against texts which reduce women to sex objects. With her pugnacious notes, she provoked the first literary quarrel about femininity and masculinity in Europe, the ‘Querelle des Femmes’.

   

  The masculinisation of literacy and education in the modern era

  In premodern Europe, competencies in literacy were considered more or less ‘feminine’. Girls learned to read at least the Bible to their families; noblewomen were taught languages and literature to be able to marry into different countries. The ideal for masculinity was fighting strength; sitting with books seemed to be viewed as non-masculine. Many kings and noblemen were illiterate. This changed in modern times. Literacy became part of the public world and school education developed as a privilege of men.

  In the colonial period, Europeans attempted to impose this central European order on the African colonies: women were relegated to the private sphere, while men had the privilege of acting in public, which was more valued. The colonisers argued these gender roles were anthropologically fixed constancies, and they had the civilising mission of transferring this pattern to their colonies. But African scholars insist that in precolonial times, polar structures of different worlds for men and women did not exist, exactly as they had not in premodern Europe.

   

  Conclusion: Confirming non-dualistic, fluid gender concepts

  As we still need to fight against the discrimination of women and girls in educational systems worldwide, the message of the picture might be encouraging. This visual icon helps to deconstruct a common myth about Europe and to reject static ideas about continuities of bipolar gender structures. Even in the European Middle Ages, independent female authors were shown, combining inside and outside worlds. To see that it was different in history motivates us to see the hybridity of gender structures on both continents, which do not merely follow the dualistic scheme of men working in public professions and women working as housewives.

   

  References:

  • Christine de Pizan: Le Livre de la Cité des Dames. Stock 1986 (French).
  • Christine de Pizan: The Book of the City of Ladies (Penguin Classics) rev. 2000 (English).
  • Christine de Pizan: Das Buch von der Stadt der Frauen. Originally in Middle French. Translated and with commentary and an introduction by Margarete Zimmermann, Orlanda Buchverlag Berlin 1986, dtv 1999 (German).
  • Roberta L. Krueger: Towards Feminism: Christine de Pizan, Female Advocacy, and Women’s Textual Communities in the Late Middle Ages and Beyond. In: Judith M. Bennett, Ruth Mazo Karras (eds.): The Oxford Handbook of Women and Gender in Medieval Europe. Oxford University Press 2016, pp. 590-606.
  • Henry Kam Kah: The Sacred Forest. Gender and Matriliny in the Laimbwe History (Cameroon), c. 1750-2001. Berlin 2015.
  • Oyewumi, Oyeronké: Colonizing Bodies and Minds. Gender and Colonialism. In: ibid (ed.): Invention of Women. Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses. Minneapolis, MN 1997, pp. 121-156.

   

   

  Edited by Kelly Thompson.

   

  published August 2020

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• 

  Niklas Wolf

  In ancient Egypt there was an elaborate system of reproduction around representative works of art. Gypsum casts of royal statues ensured that images of rulers were comparable and consistent nationwide. The formal type of a portrait bust, however, is as special as the material of Nefertiti’s representation. Stone figures, combined with a publicly effective installation, corresponded to ideas of permanence and a ruler’s longevity. The stone bust’s surface is coated with gypsum, which enabled a particularly fine design, and brightly coloured paint. The latter is preserved in its original condition (Tyldesley 2018).

   

  Technology, material, surface and the design of the object play an important role in Nora al-Badri and Jan Nikolai Nelles’ project The Other Nefertiti (Pinther 2018). This project intentionally raises a number of questions that refer to discourses about provenance and access to both one’s own and foreign cultural assets, as well as their relocation. Moreover, it points towards a possible democratization of globally significant, mobile artefacts. What happens to a visual object when it is reduced to the essence of its digital data? How can digital processes and media be part of such discourses, and even possibly their solution?  As part of an artistic intervention, the two artists penetrated the space of the museum and photographed the bust with concealed scanners, from which they were able to generate a multitude of detailed data to create a 3D print. Within the framework of a Common Creative License, this data is accessible online to the general public and provides “immaterial material” for future images as well (Nelles 2016). Anyone with access to the Internet and a 3D printer will therefore be able to print a copy that corresponds to the shape of the original, thereby democratizing the cultural asset. This gesture directly counteracts how strongly the accessibility of such assets are typically regulated – not even amateur photographs are permitted in a museum context, as the Berlin State Museums (Staatliche Museen zu Berlin) retain sovereignty over the object and its image. Both the generation of the data and the symbolic return of a Nefertiti copy and its burial in the Egyptian desert were documented on film. The project thus becomes part of a discourse critical of museal practices such as those of the Berlin State Museums: in reaction to the publication of the data, they referred to the legality of ownership, the ban on photography and the possibility of various – strictly regulated – accesses to the object and its reproductions. (SPK 2016)

   

  Questions of accessibility and the relocation of cultural assets were also the topic of a seminar held at the Ludwig Maximilian University in 2019. A female student, who gave a lecture on the relocation of Nefertiti, contributed to the discussion by printing a Nefertiti bust using data from the Nefertiti hack. In contrast to the Berlin original and a printout based on Nelles and al-Badri’s data, this bust was greatly reduced in size and made of fluorescent material. A significantly expanded conception of art developed amidst questions of reproducibility, reproduction, aura and figurative trademarks. Unlike the officially signed copies produced by the Berlin Gipsformerei, these replicas are made at a greater distance from the original. No direct contact is necessary, the distribution is globally possible. There are several processes of translation and transformation that create new networks between bust and recipient. First, an immaterial object – the data set – is created, which gains new materiality through printing. The latter is freely scalable, a series of enlarged or downsized reproductions can be made, which would nevertheless correspond in scale to the dimensions of their source; materially, a Nefertiti created that way would never (want to) correspond to the bust of Nefertiti. Artists thus become the authors of new “truthful” objects. The story of the original begins to overlap with the narrative of its reproduction: the intriguing story of outwitting and interrogating the museum becomes an immaterial and performative work of art, which exists on an equal footing with the shapeless dataset and the multitude of printed and altered Nefertiti busts.

  What can an object do as a representative? Which discursive spaces does it operate within? What kinds of questions can be asked of the original and copy? Which terminologies are capable of describing new metamorphical translation processes and aesthetics?

   

  Critical comments on the Nefertiti project point out that simple, transportable scanners would not be able to capture images that would allow such high-resolution data sets. It is possible that Nelles and al-Badri gained access to professional scans commissioned by the Berlin State Museums or that they themselves had a replica of the bust scanned (SPK 2016). Both remarks are difficult to verify after the fact and do not affect the intention of the project.

   

  Little is known about Nefertiti’s life; she encountered the global visual memory through a singular object, the portrait bust exhibited in Berlin, which stands for timeless glorified beauty and power in its own right. Questions about the accessibility of such images are already inscribed in the contexts in which they were created. In the ancient Egyptian tradition of exhibiting, powerful pictures worked between showing and concealing, they functioned as temporarily enlivened representatives of royal or divine power (Hornung 1971). Closely bound to constantly changing contexts of religion and rule, they had a constitutive memorial function in society, represented absent power, and were threatened by iconoclastic destruction. With the beginning of the colonization of the African continent by Western powers, Egypt’s cultural heritage was of particular archaeological and political interest to both public and private collections, as well as the art market.

  (Read more on the history of the Nefertiti bust and the concept of partage...)

   

   

  In contemporary terminology used to discuss ancient Egypt, terms of similarity (likeness) were summarized in discourses between original and copy: tut means (perfect) similarity; image, role and model coincide in one object and correspond to each other. Tut ankh is a living image (Tyldesley 2018) – (…) conceptual art was designed to represent the exact nature of a thing or person in the simplest way possible (…) (Tyldesley 2018). Perhaps the busts of Nefertiti – the dislocated cultural artefact in Berlin, as well as the multitude of possible reproductions from 3D printers worldwide – fall into very similar transcultural categories of representative likeness.

  Delve deeper into the reception history of the bust.

   

  References

  • Hornung 1971: Hornung, Erik. Der Eine und die Vielen. Altägyptische Götterwelt, Darmstadt 1971
  • Nelles 2016: Nefertiti Hack. Artist homepage: http://nefertitihack.alloversky.com (25.01.2019)
  • Pinther 2018: Pinther, Kerstin; Weigand, Alexandra (Hrsg.). Flow of Forms / Forms of Flow. Design Histories between Africa and Europe, Bielefeld 2018
  • SPK 2019: Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz: „Nefertiti Hack” ein Schwindel?, 09.03.2016. http://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/meldung/article/2016/03/09/nefertiti-hack-ein-schwindel.html (25.01.2016)
  • Tyldesley 2018: Tyldesley, Joyce. Nefertitis Face. The Creation of an icon, London 2018

   

   

  published February 2020

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• 

  Mahmoud Malik Saako

  The Koma figurines did not only enrich the stock of African artwork but evoke the minds of a great culture represented or embedded greatly in these art pieces. These figurines have been classified into anthropomorphic (the use of human features), and zoomorphic (the use of animal features), based on the stylistic representation while some are both anthropomorphic and zoomorphic (they possess both human and animal features). They are some of the anthropomorphic figurines that have one head and two faces or one body with multiple heads while some have a head with a conical shape.  Those anthropomorphic coned figurines are the most common types and are consisting of a head with a long conical neck or body.

   

  The Koma figurines could be equated to those of Nok and Ife (in Nigeria), Sao (around Lake Chad), the Akan funerary clay figures (in southern Ghana), and the Jenne and Bankoni clay figurines of the Inland Niger Delta (in Mali). Beyond their artistic significance and historical products, the Koma figurines have generated some interest among intellectuals in and outside Ghana including antique dealers.

  Before the scientific investigations commenced in the 1980s and 2006 onwards, the communities within this geographical area known as "Komaland" were encountering or recovering these terracotta figurines when they were digging for soil to build their homes. The people then referred to them as kronkronballi which literary means "children from an old-time". These figurines are either found in house or burial mounds within the area. The culture of the current inhabitants of the area where these figurines are found do revere their ancestors, and any disturbance of the ancestral graves or the removal of any burial goods either intentionally or accidentally must be expiated by sacrifices, and all the grave goods are reburied at the same place. Since the people are far remote from the creators or ancestors of these figurines, many of the damaged ones were either thrown away while a significant number of them were taken home and given to children as toys.

   

  Moreover, art dealers in Ghana and West Africa recognized the commercial value of these Koma figurines long before the scientific investigations by the first anthropologists, archaeologists, and historians. These Koma figurines were, therefore, sold at the various art markets in northern Ghana (in Bolgatanga at the craft village) and southern Ghana (in Kumasi and Accra art centers) to foreign tourists. It is through this medium that Koma figurines have found their way into many European and Western museums.

   

  Furthermore, scientific excavations in the 1980s and the subsequent excavations in 2006 onward by a team of archaeologists in Ghana and abroad, have attracted the attention of the world through conferences and publications. The Koma figurines were initially appreciated based on their aesthetic values but the subsequent archaeological excavations subjected them to more rigorous scientific analysis and historical classification such as social, cultural, political, and environmental. The scientific excavations have also to some extent put a stop to the numerous lootings of the sites that were hitherto very rampant.

   

  The archaeological investigations in recent times and based on radiocarbon analysis from pieces of charcoal dated the site between the 6th and 14th centuries AD. But further investigations are still ongoing to identify the authors or creators of this supposed complex civilization in northern Ghana though, parallel has been made to the Lobi in Ghana and Burkina Faso.

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• 

  Werner Bloß

   

  Administrative, esoteric and patriotic purposes until the first half of the 19^th century

   

  After an initial sighting the clothing can still prove to be expectable in the context of its time and regionality. While the medieval weapon seems useful for the guard's task, the hat's purpose can be seriously doubted. But peculiar as the outfit might be, it must have identified its possible former wearer as a civil servant, who was authorized, e.g. to punish violations of the rules. To protect the vineyard, a Saltner had to be reliable, vigilant, fearless, persuasive and loud. In addition to this executive function, there was also an esoteric one: Myths have developed claiming that a Saltner is able to defend himself successfully not only against thieves and ravenous animals, but also against attacks from the otherworld. Thus, the formerly more modest hat might have taken on a fetish-like function as well, alongside an expectedly Christian context — similar to the magic „Hexenkreuz“ (a shoe-length iron forged in the shape of a cross, von Hörmann 1872, p. 41-47) which should be part of the equipment of a Saltner too.

  
         

  Fig. 1, 2: Meraner Saltner, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1875/1899 © Germanisches Nationalmuseum
  

  In addition, there are other striking features of the costume. Apart from the hat, many handed down costumes of vineyard keepers look very similar to that of an outstanding Tyrolean folk hero. As to the beard, most vineyard keepers on contemporary pictures also come very close to Andreas Hofer, the leader of the Tyrolean popular uprising of 1809 (fig. 3). Thus, two hero constructions could be woven into the image of these objects: the brave guardian with supernatural powers and the defiant folk hero who successfully defended his country against the Bavarian occupiers (at least for a short time).

   

  

  Fig. 3: Franz Defregger: Andreas Hofer, 1894, oil on canvas, Tiroler Kaiserjägermuseum, Innsbruck (© CC-BY-4.0 CC) 

   

  Tourist purposes in the course of 19^th century

   

  A steady evolution of this appearance towards hypertrophic splendor (cf. Ramming 1997, p. 119) could be observed. Whom did the vineyard keepers want to impress? Did the scary outfit or its models also have the function of a lure, even a courtship dress? One could speculate a lot about this, as well as the question of the addressees and the success of this posing in the rural environment. Indeed, there were harsh rules that state how vineyard keepers had to behave towards women (cf. von Hörmann 1872). Like the myths of nocturnal seduction attempts by witches in the vineyard, they also point to the possibility of their transgression (Matscher 1933, p. 217). The clearest indications of courtship even in the sexual are found indirectly where the vineyard keepers discovered their tourist attractiveness in the later 19th century. Here it was not only a matter of inspiring the exoticism expected from the outside. The Saltner in the role of „Papageno“ (Halbritter 2005, p. 88) offered a masculine performance to a changing — even female — audience, too. And the public, frightened by the wild man in the vineyard, gladly paid for this thrill with the usual, officially regulated tax for trespassing — and then sent a postcard with a picture of such a strange imposing guy out into the world (op. cit. p. 88-104, fig. 4).

   

  

  Fig. 4: Meraner Saltner. Postcard sent 1907. © CC-BY-4.0 austria-forum.org

   

   

  Use in the attempt of nation building until after 1900

   

  The emergence of traditional costumes in the 19th century was due to an increased interest in regional distinctiveness. The dependence on supra-regional trade, a corresponding desire for a special appearance and the burgeoning tourism in picturesque South Tyrol drove this development further. The purchase of the object by the GNM in 1899 was completely in line with the museum's historistic concept. Unique characteristics were to be collected to support the idea of nation-building in the German-speaking area which includes parts of South Tyrol (Austria till 1918, then Italy) too. The interest in the costume can thus be attributed to an implicit concept of „Großdeutschland“, the desire for identification even far beyond the national borders of that time (and also today). In 1905 the Saltner-figurine became a part of a multi-figure panorama of German traditional costumes in the museum. But 100 years later Jutta Zander-Seidel, curator of the exhibition „Kleiderwechsel“ (that means "change of clothes") at the GNM judged harshly about the former exhibition practice: Neither does the object represent the peasant costume of the past in its historical authenticity, nor does it reach beyond documents of historicized festive culture at that time (cf. Zander-Seidel 2002, p. 76).

   

   

  From carnival use to cultural appropriation and appreciation

   

  On top of that, the object wasn't even bought in South Tyrol at all, but from a Munich costume fund. The painter Franz Defregger is said to have worn it at a Munich artists' masked ball in 1883 (Ramming 1997, p. 16-18). Was it merely a product of his imagination, made to poke fun at the strangers across the near borders, at those archaic mountain people with their culture, which at the time was perceived as weird, backward, even exotic? There is evidence that Defregger designed costumes too (Irgens 2010, p. 14).

   

  Then it would also be possible that parts of the costume were actually copied, e.g. by using early photographs of Native Americans, perhaps to make the appearance seem even more exotic. The foxtails hanging down on both sides of the face, the necklace of wild animal teeth or the splendor of the feathers come quite close to such cliché images. And Franz Defregger showed great interest in Chief Rocky Bear, for example, whom he met and portrayed in 1890. Rocky Bear had come to Munich (Bavaria) with Buffalo Bills' Wild West Show as a living exhibit (Assmann e.a. 2020, p. 123). But this was seven years after the masked ball. In addition, the object at the GNM is said to have been touched up in the early 20th century, so that it could fit the cliché of the pictorial and written sources of the 19th century even better (Selheim 2005, p. 274).

   

  In the same supposedly colonialist view, Defregger made a painting for an Austrian encyclopedia called „Kronprinzenwerk“ (1885-1902, fig. 5). In this illustration, the figure of the Saltner is used just as clichéd and exoticizing for his country, Tyrol, as we know it, e.g. from images of snake charmers and the Indian subcontinent. But the picture shows a man who looks much like both the Nuremberg specimen – and the artist himself. Could this still be a form of self-exaltation, an act of othering (Said 1985)? If we take into account that Defregger himself was a native Tyrolean, this perspective escapes its chauvinistic dress and shows us a completely opposite form of individual expression and a corresponding search for identification: When abroad, the successful painter dressed like a person of status in his native country.

   

  

  Fig. 5: Franz Defregger: Ein Saltner bei Meran. 1890, Xylography by M. Kluszewski. © CC-BY-4.0 austria-forum.org

   

   

  Conclusion

   

  It has taken one century for this change in function to be clearly named in the GNM (cf. Zander-Seidel 2002, p. 148): from an uncertain practical object of use to a product of tourist expectations, from a carnival costume to a decided construction of national identification and back again. The outfit of the vineyard keeper is neither particularly artistic nor valuable. But the questions it is able to generate lead far into a dense field of visual communication across times, national borders and continents, to ideas of foreignness and (self-) exoticization and ultimately to the question of how we deal with them today. The costume of the Saltner and its related outfits seem to come from the supposedly “good old time“. But they illuminate a rather fleeting moment in which historical upheavals in Europe (e.g. early globalization, increased emigration, advanced secularization, consequences of colonialism, desperate search for identity and nation building) are reflected in a peculiar object. They can lead to the question of how to deal with other traditions on the one hand or with the individualization of (male) appearance (e.g. in the later star cult) on the other. The fact that a whimsical hat can still serve an extremely dubious yet visually powerful purpose today was demonstrated by the million-fold shared footage of the self-proclaimed "shaman" storming the Washington Capitol in early 2021.

   

  Special thanks to my students at Gymnasium Wendelstein who enriched this analysis with plenty of valuable questions and discoveries.

   

   

  References

   

  • Assmann, Peter/Irgens-Defregger, Angelika/Hess, Helmut. 2020. Defregger. Mythos — Missbrauch — Moderne. Innsbruck, München: Hirmer.
  • Ramming, Jochen. 1997. Weinberghüter und Heimatwächter. Der ‚Meraner Saltner‘ zwischen Amt und Emblem. In: Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 20. Paderborn. München. Wien. Zürich: Schöningh. p. 116-141.
  • Halbritter, Roland. 2005. Saltner – Weinberghüter – Touristenschreck – Vogelscheuche – Papageno – Alpenindianer. „Ihm gebe Kreizer a comprar tabacco; dann still sein gut Freund“. In: Der Schlern, Bozen. August edition 2005, p. 88-104.
  • Irgens, Angelika. 2010. Was Tiroler und Indianer im Herzen verbindet, Bayerische Staatszeitung (BSZ). 23.04.2010 (ePaper) and: Unser Bayern 4/2010, München (Verlag Bayerische Staatszeitung)
  • von Hörmann, Ludwig. 1872. Die Saltner. In: Der Alpenfreund, Monatshefte für Verbreitung von Alpenkunde unter Jung und Alt in populären Schilderungen aus dem Gesammtgebiet der Alpenwelt und mit praktischen Winken zur genußvollen Bereisung derselben. Dr. Eduard Amthor (ed.), Volume 5, Gera, p. 41-47, proofread for SAGEN.at by Mag. Renate Erhart, august 2005. Spelling carefully reworked and brought up to date: http://www.sagen.at/doku/hoermann_beitraege/saltner.html. Called on 7.02.2021
  • Matscher, Hans. 1933. Der Burggräfler in Glaube und Sage. Bozen 1933. Found at sagen.at and carefully reworked by Leoni Wallner. December 2005. http://www.sagen.at/texte/sagen/italien/meran/burggraefler_matscher/wimmetzeit.htm. Called on 7.02.2021.
  • Said, Edward. 1985. Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient. London: Penguin Books.
  • Selheim, Claudia. 2005. Die Entdeckung der Tracht um 1900. Die Sammlung Oskar Kling zur ländlichen Kleidung im Germanischen Nationalmuseum. Published by Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg.
  • Zander-Seidel, Jutta (ed.). 2002. Kleiderwechsel. Frauen-, Männer- und Kinderkleidung des 18. bis 20. Jahrhunderts (Die Schausammlungen des Germanischen Nationalmuseums). Published by Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg.

   

   

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• 

  Patrique deGraft-Yankson

  Exploring an Enigmatic Piece of Traditional Cameroonian Sculptur

   

  The Veranda Post found in Museum Fünf Kontinente is an exemplification of the extent to which indigenous Africans mutually reinforced socio-religio-cultural existence and expressiveness of form through sculpture. Various examples of these artefacts abound in the collections of African plastic artforms found in many museums across the globe. The beauty in experiencing, analysing and speaking about this artwork (as well as many of its kind), lies within the absence of authenticated historical and analytical literature on them. This makes it possible for the observer to exert complete authority of personal perception and interpretation devoid of any fixed attitude that dictates, interfere or curtails aesthetic enjoyments, interpretations and judgements, as attempted in this presentation. 

   

  With the dimensions of 199 x 60 x 50 cm, the Veranda Post found in Museum Fünf Kontinente is one of the numerous examples of the African artistic expressiveness, confirming the artistic prowess of the traditional African. Examples of these artefacts abound in the collections of African plastic artforms which record indigenous religious beliefs, practices and performances that date back from the beginning of African history.

   

  As typical of most indigenous African sculptures, this work is not only uncaptioned, but the artist/creator is not known. What is known, however is that, its peculiar characteristics and style makes it easily identifiable and representative within the milieu of popular African sculptures. According to the Museum Fünf Kontinente records, this work was collected from 'Kamerun'. 'Kamerun' was an African colony of the German Empire between 1884 and 1916, which was located in the region of today's Republic of Cameroon (Wikipedia, 2020). Comparing the characteristic features of this sculpture with similar sculptures described by some art historians as Veranda Posts created as part of ancient African monumental architectures found in the Cameroons Grassland (Willett 1981) therefore, it is not difficult place it within that category. Hence its caption.

   

  As can been seen from similar ‘posts’ and judging from the elaborateness of the images created on them, the major reason for the production of these posts was more to afford the sculptor or sculptors the opportunity to decorate the buildings with stories, rather than serving as supports (see figure 1).

   

  

  Figure 1: Ancestor statues, carved door-frame and verandah posts (Source: Willett 1981)

   

  As said above, the beauty in analysing and speaking about this artwork (and many of its kind), lies within the absence of historical and analytical literature. The fact that this makes it possible for me (and for that matter any other observer) to exercise personal powers of perception and interpretation without any fixed attitude to direct or curtail their aesthetic interpretations and judgements made it my object of choice for this project at the Museum Fünf Kontinente.

   

  Going by Margaret Trowell’s generalisations about African art, this Veranda Post can be classified under the ‘spirit-regarding’ art. Like many others of its kind, this work, which has front and back views, is flanked with human and other figures, ostensibly those of ancestors and is symmetrically disposed about a vertical axis, rendering it frontal at both sides.

   

  Analyses of the images created on this pole reveal striking similarities between the age old traditional religious practices of the African and the Western religious beliefs and practices brought in by the earlier missionaries.

   

  At the direct look of the object from the front (as it has been positioned at the museum, but actually one of its two sides), a prominent kneeling figure with hands clasped together unto the chest (much like the praying hand) can be seen in a pose that looks very much like the kneeling praying postures at Christian worships. To the African, this posture is not only assumed at prayer sessions as a visual image of submission to God’s authority, but is also exhibited as a sign of respect, humility and total surrender to a superior authority. For the sculptor to present the kneeling man as a central figure and subsequently rendering all other human figures in similar submissive postures therefore makes the theme of prayer, submissiveness and spirituality very strong in the composition.

   

  

  Figure 2: The kneeling or praying figure

   

  The kneeling man is placed right below two human faces whose prominence and positioning easily pass them for elders, superiors, or better still, ancestors. Before the ancestors, all supplications are made, and through them, request are carried through to the supreme God.

   

  

  Figure 3: Ancestor figures

   

  The importance of the two faces and emphasis on their superiority is further strengthened by a strong demarcation between them and the kneeling man through a thick rigid contoured line that forms a partition between the elements. This could be interpreted as a spiritual borderline that separate the spiritual world from the physical world. Generally, the African believes in the existence of the physical and the spiritual worlds as separate entities and this demarcation clearly depicts this belief. Also worthy of notice is the orientation of the demarcating border which rhymes with the praying hands of the kneeling figure, thereby visually connecting the figures. This carefully chosen placement of the two faces in the composition alludes to the supremacy of the ancestors and their exclusive existence in the after world as well as their connection with humans.  

   

  

  Figure 4: The spiritual borderline

   

  Another striking imagery is created with the placement of a very visible image rendered in concentric circles. Among many African ethnic groups, the circle represents completeness, holiness, perfection and other such attributes ascribed to the supreme being (God). Among the Akan people of Ghana, for instance, the Adinkra symbol called Adinkrahene (king of Adinkra symbols) is presented as concentric circles. This symbol represents authority, leadership and charisma. The sculptor most likely created a bull’s eye of this symbol as an indication of exactly where this particular post belongs. The post could possibly be one of the furnishes for a palace or the abode of a traditional priest. This could also suggest the likelihood of the prominent kneeling figure being the King or the chief priest. Considering the atmosphere created by these symbols, the circle, with the kind of prominence it exudes could also represent the omnipresence of the supreme being, thereby heralding the people’s belief in the iniquitousness of God and His closeness to mankind.

   

  

  Figure 5: The concentric circles

   

  Other recognizable images of animate and inanimate objects in the work include crocodiles, lizards and geometric shapes. Whilst it is likely that the geometric figures may have been deliberately presented to create balance, simulate a built living environment and arouse aesthetic sensibilities, the images of animals like those of the crocodiles have significant meanings as far as African culture and belief systems are concerned. Among some ethnic groups in Africa, crocodiles are believed to be the souls of ancestors who come back to live with men. Examples are the crocodiles in the Crocodile Pond at Paga in the northern part of Ghana who virtually live peacefully among the people. There are numerous African stories about crocodiles coming to the aid of men to either protect them or lead them to safety. Their inclusion in this particular work therefore is to establish the existence of spirits among men, especially as humans pray to seek their guidance and protection.

   

  

  Figure 6: The crocodiles

   

  Considering where it was created and where it is located now, as well as the current effort towards extracting a meaning out of its symbolism, this veranda post and many other such African artefacts in several museums around the globe have demonstrated how images and symbols resonate relationship between cultural practices around the world. The confluence of symbolic interpretations of the icons in the traditional African religions and the Euro-Christian religion, as depicted in this veranda post, gives justification to Africa’s unquestionable acceptance of Euro-Christianity and all the associated visual cultural practices.

   

  For comparison, also read Karin Guggeis' analysis of this object here.

   

  References

  • Roy, C. (2019). Signs and Symbols in African Art: Graphic Patterns in Burkina Faso. Signs and Symbols in African Art: Graphic Patterns in Burkina Faso. https://africa.uima.uiowa.edu/topic-essays/show/38?start=13
  • Wikipedia. (2020). Kamerun. Kamerun. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cameroon
  • Willett, F. (1981). African Art. London: Thames and Hudson.

  

  ISB_Team

  This 'Veranda Post' is variously referred to (mostly in relation to its architectural-functional context) lintel or "te ken dy dye" (in the local Bandjoun language - PHSAA), porch post, house front pillar, post, cult house post (M5K, p. 17), Cameroon post / family crest (Macke at M5K, 13, 24). Post, however, in the sense of sign (post-it) is suggested by PdGY to address the communicative function. Other designations do not address the function, but limit themselves to the given, perhaps to avoid any pre-interpretation: 'sculpted wooden block' (Kecskési 1999 n. 108) or 'large carved square wooden block' (Kecskési 1976, p. 22).

   

  Object biography: The object was taken before 1893 by Max von Stetten during expeditions on the Bamileke Plateau (south-western Cameroon), where it was presumably part of a meeting house of a confederation. Stetten (1860-1925) was German commander of the Kaiserliche Schutztruppe for Cameroon until 1896. Cameroon was a German colony at that time. The exact circumstances of how the object came into Stetten's possession are unknown, as is its original location and context.^[2] In 1893, the Royal Ethnographic Collection acquired the pillar as a gift from Stetten.^[3] In 1912, a photograph of the pillar was published in the Almanac of the Blaue Reiter. It is currently on display in the permanent exhibition in the Museum Fünf Kontinente Munich in a niche - a mirror allows a view of the second side (see Fig. 2). Along with other objects from the collection, it is currently the subject of a transnational project on their provenance (GI).

   

  

  Fig. 2

   

  Status: In comparison with carved mullions on façades of royal residences in the Cameroon grasslands (Fig. 3),^[4] other mullions or door frames in the Museum Five Continents (M5K, p. 17, Kecskési 1999 No. 11, 70, 75) or in the Humboldt Forum Berlin, there is a partial similarity of motifs, but a strikingly 'archaic' formal language. Other examples are clearly more 'elaborate'. The multitude suggests that this type of pillar is quite typical of works from this period in this region of West Africa.

   

  

  Fig. 3

  Interpretation

  The current view of the work

  For the interpretation, the following questions lend themselves to art lessons: Form, iconography (meaning of the motifs), function, theme (or core idea) of the object, i.e. an interpretation.

   

  With regard to the guiding idea of multi-perspectivity, two positions will be addressed: On the one hand, the view of today on the basis of ascertainable contexts, which seeks to understand the object from its time of origin and its context of origin. On the other hand, the view of the object by the artists of the Blaue Reiter. The comparison of these perspectives seems particularly relevant from an art didactic point of view, even though other perspectives would be conceivable, e.g. from the point of view of museology, provenance research, from the context of current restitution debates, etc. However, these are addressed in the teaching suggestions.

   

  Shape

  At first, the pillar develops an immediate physical presence for the visitor: through its sheer size (larger than life, almost square in plan), the materiality of the massive, cracked block of wood (the outline is irregular and probably corresponds to the tree) and the clear, concise, reduced language of form, whose meaning seems inaccessible. The surface treatment is archaic, the wood is more hewn than carved.^[5] Thus it appears powerful and at the same time mysterious, which is supported by its presentation in the exhibition on a plinth and without glazing (see Fig. 4).

   

  

  Fig. 4

  A closer look reveals how the sculptor interweaves various modes of representation between complete abstraction (circle, rectangle) and representationalism (human figures, animals) in a compositional way^[6] , monumentalising the individual motifs through internal symmetry, geometrisation, frontality and statics. This is supported by the painting (see Fig. 5). In this reduction, everything narrative is missing. The representation becomes emblematic, it becomes a symbol.

                  

  

  Fig. 5, 6 and 7

  This is also supported by the overall composition, which obviously follows a calculated geometric order. It is strictly horizontally divided into individual zones, only once do lizard tails protrude into another zone. However, the separation into individual layers is ingeniously overcome compositionally by the strict axial symmetry in the vertical, but also by the point-symmetrical arrangement around the respective centres. The result is a tension between the contradictory compositional principles (see Figs. 6 and 7) that is decisive for the effect of the pillar.

   

  The lack of any narrative on the one hand and the high creative effort on the other underline once again that it is about a symbolic level. This can perhaps be deciphered, even if its immediate complex order makes it seem above all direct, sensual.

   

  The secure decoding of the iconography (what the individual motifs as well as the arrangement meant in the context of origin) is not possible with today's state of knowledge. Oral culture has left no written sources that could be consulted. Moreover, the oral tradition has been torn down - not least due to colonial destruction. However, since the work obviously has a symbolic language with clear iconography, this level cannot be left out in art lessons. German-language literature and oral experts from West Africa were consulted here. The results contradict each other, but nevertheless yield a court of meaning (see Fig. 8, in which the individual attributions of meaning are named)^[7] , which provides a certain direction.

   

  

  Fig. 8

  In addition, the block is painted in three colours. These also carry meanings: Black could symbolise suffering, white could be the colour of the dead and symbolise mystery, red, the colour of blood, symbolises life (PHSAA). The light-dark contrasts themselves symbolise life and death (Kecskési 1999).

   

  Function

  PdGY suspects that the pillar - as part of the architecture of the house - stood at the spatial interface with the public (on a path) in order to communicate the significance of the house, presumably a cult house, to the outside. The object could therefore have been part of the façade of a particularly distinguished house^[8] , also with a supporting function for the roof. It communicates what happens in the house or who lives or resides there.

   

  Kecskési, on the other hand, considers a free positioning in space (Kecskési 1976, p. 22) and suspects an ancestral tablet. This in turn would fit the following determination by Gouaffo: "The 'Blue Rider Post' is a spiritual object. According to oral traditions, the object was placed in the sacred house like a statue. Caps, chains, bags or skeletons could hang from the object. Secret societies like the 'Losango' used the statue to perform certain rites, for example to cleanse the village of evil spirits." (Albert Gouaffo in GI) KG also suspects the context of a meeting house of such a secret society. Common to all assumptions is that the pillar stood in the context of a house with a sacred or cultic function.

   

  'Theme' of the object: Basically, three different levels can be delimited, some complementary, some contradictory. First, the communication function on the façade or at the entrance to the outside. Then the pictorial formulation of a certain understanding of human being-in-the-world is asserted; man is ultimately embedded cosmologically.^[9] At the Humboldtforum Berlin, in turn, such pillars from West Cameroon are also seen as the "architecture of power", power exercised by the rulers or the secret societies through impressing and deterring.^[10]

   

  Second perspective

  The interpretation provided above can be countered by a second perception of the pillar, as it appears in the almanac "Der Blaue Reiter". This almanac, an artist's book, was published in 1912 by Franz Marc and Wassily Kandinsky. The reception of this book is over a hundred years old, but it is significant for the development of European art, as it is a good example of how artists of this time created a new frame of reference by referring to non-European art. In this respect, the Blaue Reiter clearly differs from Cubism, Expressionism or Dadaism, which were all being developed at the same time.

   

  

  Fig. 9

   

  In the Almanac, on pages 21 to 27, there is an essay by the painter August Macke entitled "Die Masken" (The Masks), in which a relatively small illustration of the pillar in question is embedded (see Fig. 9). Macke's contribution, like all the other texts in the Almanac, was probably written at a joint meeting of Macke, Marc, Münter and Kandinsky in Murnau.^[11]

   

  Visits to ethnographic museums are documented above all for Wassily Kandinsky, who was a trained ethnologist, and Franz Marc. Marc had also admired sculptures from Cameroon in particular during his visit to the Berlin Ethnographic Museum in 1911. And it was he who was ultimately responsible for the insertion of the photograph of the post in Macke's article.^[12] In his letters to Macke, Marc writes about this. On 14.1.1911 about the objects from Cameroon in the Berlin Ethnological Museum: "I remained amazed and shaken by the carvings of the Cameroonians"; and later that he would furnish Macke's article in the Almanac with "ethnographic wonders" (MW).^[13] In the text itself there is a single, very brief reference to "carved and painted pillars in a Negro hut", by which presumably the post was meant.

   

  The text itself represents Macke's conception of art. In it, "intangible ideas", "mysterious forces", an "invisible God" express themselves in the world of appearances and "cultic expressions". The invisible materialises in the visible. This realm of the visible includes not only art, such as that of Giotto or van Gogh, who are classified as 'primitive', but also nature. Children's drawings, the folk art of the 'primitives' and 'savages' or non-European cultural forms are also expressions of the mysteriously invisible. These themselves are - and this is decisive - equal to each other. There is no hierarchy, no distinction between high and low, between high art and popular culture. All forms speak - as Macke characterises it - in "strong language". For Macke, the pillar in the museum is then an example of "the tangible form for an intangible idea, the personification of an abstract concept" (Macke 24). He also calls this the figure of an "idol".

   

  The approach underlying this thinking sounds familiar; we have known it since the Platonic theory of ideas. However, this approach does not justify the selection of this particular post, as other posts from the museum's collection would also have been available.^[14] Here one can only assume. I suspect that there are various factors that led to the selection: the archaic power of the forms; the initially wild and carefree-looking, additive combination (or montage) of the various principles of representation in the individual motifs (concrete - abstracted, geometric - organic, symbolising - depicting), which on closer inspection, however, then reveals itself to be consciously composed; or the coarse, physically perceptible materiality of the cracked, thick block of wood in impressive dimensions. PdGY also speaks of "wonderfully composed".

   

  In the work, everything is represented with great sensual power that is the opposite of an "empty" image in European "cultures that have already passed through a thousand-year course, like [...] Italian Renaissance" (Macke 24) and from which Macke renounces: "We must bravely renounce almost everything that has hitherto been dear and indispensable to us as good Central Europeans [...] in order to get out of the fatigue of our European lack of taste". (Macke ibid.)

   

  In art lessons, the question arises to what extent the image that Marc or Macke create of the pillar (as representative of the idea of an idol) goes together with what the object presumably was and is in its original context. Or to put it another way: are they designing a certain, exotic image that does not correspond to the object itself? ^[15]

   

   

  Fig. 10 Historical photos of the exhibition of the India Department in the Munich Museum around 1910 (source M5K)

   

  References

  • GI: Juliane Glahn and Marta Krus: CAMERUNS RIGHT TO CULTURAL OBJECTS. https://www.de/prj/zei/de/pos/22656808.html
  • Kecskési 1999: Maria Kecskési. Art from Africa - Museum of Ethnology Munich. Munich (Prestel) 1999
  • Kecskési 1976: Catalogue for the exhibition African Art. Andreas Lommel (ed.). Munich (Bruckmann) 1976
  • M5K: Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde München (ed.). The Blaue Reiter and the Munich Museum of Ethnology. Munich (Hirmer) 2009
  • KG: Karin Guggeis. The Blue Rider Post. (2021): https://www.explore-vc.org/en/objects/expanding-the-canon-of-art-at-the-global-north.html
  • PdGY: Patrique deGraft-Yankson. The Veranda Post. (2019) https://www.explore-vc.org/en/objects/the-veranda-post.html and oral interview on 23.4.2022 in Bayreuth, Iwalewahaus.
  • PHSAA: Paul-Henri Souvenir Assako Assako. Information by email 20.5.2022
  • Wikipedia: Cameroon & Max von Stetten
  • MW: Macke Wolfgang (ed.). August Macke - Franz Marc: Briefwechsel, Texte und Perspektiven. 1964. Cologne (DuMont).
  • Macke: Macke August. The Masks. In: Almanac "Der Blaue Reiter", 1912, edited by Franz Marc and Wassily Kandinsky, pp. 21-27

   

  Appendix on iconography

  • Anthropomorphic figures: ancestral couples / guardians and protectors of the royal residence. These anthropomorphic figures are treated with respect as extraordinary personalities. They are considered ensouled beings, spirits with supernatural powers. (PHSAA) Depiction of all human figures in similar postures: theme of prayer and submission to spirituality. (PdGY)

  'Front' side from bottom to top:

  • Two people: Ancestral couples / guardians and protectors of the royal residence (PHSAA). People pray for the guidance and protection of the ancestors (PdGY).
  • Lizards: The symbol of the lizard warns everyone; it symbolises death. (PHSAA) PdGY sees here two crocodiles (ancestral souls returning to live with humans) instead of lizards.
  • Circle: motif of the sun, symbol of life and power; the moon, image of woman and symbol of fertility. (PHSAA) The circle represents completeness, holiness, perfection and other attributes attributed to the supreme being (God). (PdGY)
  • Kneeling figure: King or priest (PdGY)
  • Line of demarcation between the spiritual and the physical world
  • Two heads above: Ancestors (PdGY)

  'Back' side from bottom to top:

  • Python (geometric frieze at the bottom of the 'back' side): royal totem/sacred python, guardian of the dynasty (PHSAA).
  • Male figure with chin beard as emblem of sovereignty (Kecskési 1999)
  • Enigmatic form with a pair of horns ending in a hand (?) at the bottom (Kecskési) on a rectangle with two flanking lizards.
  • Anthropomorphic figures
  • Circular area

   

   Footnotes

  ^[1]                 The object is variously referred to, mostly in relation to its architectural-functional context: lintel or "te ken dy dye" (in the local Bandjoun language - PHSAA), porch post, house front pillar, post, cult house post (M5K, p. 17), Cameroon post / family crest (Macke at M5K, 13, 24). Post, however, in the sense of sign (post-it) is suggested by PdGY to address the communicative function. Other designations do not address the function, but limit themselves to the given, perhaps to avoid any pre-interpretation: 'sculpted wooden block' (Kecskési 1999 n. 108) or 'large carved square wooden block' (Kecskési 1976, p. 22).

  ^[2]                 The first German trading posts were established in Cameroon as early as 1868, and in 1891 German military "expeditions" were launched in Cameroon. In 1884, the German Consul General concluded protection treaties with regional rulers and thus proclaimed the protectorate of Cameroon as a German colony. The seizure of the hinterland, which included the grasslands, took place over the course of the following 30 years. (Wikipedia) Even if the provenance is still not clear today, one can certainly share the Humboldt Forum's assessment of such objects that - even if they were not looted through acts of war - they are nevertheless "an expression of unequal power relations and structural, colonial violence". (https://www.smb.museum/nachrichten/detail/ethnologisches-museum-weg-frei-fuer-die-rueckkehr-der-ngonnso-nach-kamerun/)

  ^[3]                 In the entry book it is noted: "Gr. square block, 1.80 cm high made of heavy wood, carved on both sides with humans and lizards, heavily damaged by termites". (https://onlinedatenbank-museum-fuenf-kontinente.de/) In 1895 Stetten published detailed "Travelogues" in the Deutsches Kolonialblatt.

  ^[4]               http://www1.biologie.uni-hamburg.de/b-online/afrika/kamerun/palast.htm; http://www1.biologie.uni-hamburg.de/b-online/afrika/

  ^[5]                 The block is almost certainly worked with a chisel.

  ^[6]                 "decorated with geometric, anthropomorphic and zoomorphic forms" (PHSAA)

  ^[7]                 All performers avoid a complete decoding. They only make suggestions for individual motifs.

  ^[8]                 It could have been the house of a 'priest' whom one could consult there and through whom or ancestors one could pray to God (PdGY).

  ^[9]                 "Expression of the cosmogony of the universe of the peoples of the Bamileke plateau; expression of the belief system" (PHSAA).

  ^[10]                The assertion of power is also included by PHSAA.

  ^[11]                Catalogue: August Macke, Lenbachhaus Munich, 1987, Bruckmann. Munich. S.164

  ^[12]                He simply titled the painting "Cameroon", the name of the country of origin (the country whose sculptures he admired).

  ^[13]                There are other illustrations in the text: a bird's head from Brazil, a figure from Easter Island (see Fig. 9), one from Mexico, a bird mask from New Caledonia, a cloak from Alaska[13] and a child's drawing entitled "Arabs". Except for the child's drawing, all objects are from the then Royal Ethnographic Collection in Munich (M5K, p.11). They are only titled with the respective country of origin, e.g. Cameroon. Macke was obviously involved in the selection as well as the layout, as his layout sketch shows (M5K 24).

  ^[14]                It is not certain what was shown in the presentation at the Royal Ethnographic Collection in Munich at the time, which covered 400 square metres in six rooms in the north wing of the Hofgarten arcades in Munich. The only thing that is certain is that photos of the ten objects depicted, which came from various parts of the world, were lent to the artists for the publication of the Almanac. Photos of the presentation do not exist. "Whether Marc and Macke [actually also] saw the work in the exhibition at that time can be assumed with a high degree of probability, since it is after all very large and thus impressive." (Information Karin Guggeis 26.7.2022)

  ^[15]                In this context, it seems of interest that neither Marc nor Macke take up in their own pictorial language the aesthetics of the non-European works they "celebrate" here.

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• 

  Yaw Sekyi-Baidoo

   

  The Akan linguist¹ staff icon represents various aspects of the philosophy, values and symbolism of clan, town or ethnicity. The elephant icon, like other symbols of the Asante empire, is used in fabric and stool designs as well as the finial of the staff (Sarpong (1971:24), which is an important group formal identity symbol. Users of the staff include storytellers, clan linguists, and, most characteristically state linguists. Yankah has this to say about the state linguist staff:

   

  “Every Akan chief or king has two or more staffs. The higher a chief’s status the wider the range of staffs, since and important chief deals with a greater variety of social and political situations and has to match various situations with relevant messages (1995: 33).”

   

  The meaning and artistic significance of the finial of the linguist staff may be seen by considering the choice and artistic design of the finial, the identity of the user, and finally, the context in which the staff is used. The identity of the user, in this context, is the linguist of the King of Ashanti, a very powerful Akan monarch, whose influence and control is acknowledged over centuries and across different parts of Ghana.

   

  The paper examines the motivations for the choice and representation of the Elephant-Calf symbol, and the overall cultural and social significance of the use of this symbol.

   

   

  The Symbol in Context

  Two aspects of the image might are important for our current discussion: the finial itself, and the upper shaft on which sits the base carrying the finial. The upper shaft consists of two veiny lines which with a wisdom knot in their middle. The next is the finial – Mother Elephant with its Calf Standing on it.

   

  The choice of the elephant is based on the preeminence of the elephant as an animal. The elephant is universally used as a royal symbol of power and strength, and among the Akan of Ghana, Kwarteng (2006) reports that the paramount chiefs of Denkyira, Eguafo, Abura, Ajumako, Abeaze, Offinso, Wassa Amenfi have elephants as their royal symbol. The elephant is called ‘sono’ in Akan, and the morphological connection between the name and the Akan expression for immensity ‘so’ seems to emphasize the natural immensity of the elephant, which is also be expressed in the following:

   

  ‘Ɔson akyi nni aboa.’

  (There is no animal beyond the elephant).

   

  The leadership and protection associated with the elephant is represented in the saying:

  'Wodi esono akyi a hasuo nya wo. '

   (When you follow the elephant you are safe from the early morning dew of the bush)

   

  The Akan see the immensity of the elephant from the social, political and spiritual perspective also. Socially, the flesh of the elephant is socially significant as it, unlike all other animals, provides meat for the whole community for an extended period. Politically, its parts, skin, ears and tusks are crucial aspects of the insignia of royalty. Again, spiritually, among animals, the elephant is seen to have the greatest ‘sasa’, a kind of spiritual force normally associated with humans. The ‘sasa’ is a spirit which protects its possessor through life and which assails its killers after its death. Sekyi-Baidoo (1994) reports of extensive activities for preventing the ‘sasa’ of the elephant from escaping from the carcass to assail its killer. Overall, the elephant stands for physical, spiritual and social preeminence among the Akan.

   

   

  The Representation

   

  The Upper Shaft

  According some traditional consultants, the veiny lines, as seen above, represent the demands of the governance of the empire, which are controlled by the knot, symbolising the cohesion, control and direction of the Asantehene.

   

  The Parent Elephant

  The finial representation captures the side view of the elephant, showing major aspects of its immensity and power - the body, which showcases its immense size, the heavy legs, showing its matchless stability, strength and force; the trunk, with which it breathes, smells, grasps and lifts objects and produces sound; and the tusk, with which it digs, lifts, gathers, attacks and defends itself.  The limbs and the trunk are presented in neutral posture: both feet firm on the ground and the trunk lowered – not picking anything nor blurting - suggesting placidity. On the other hand, the tusks, bigger than natural, are lifted, pointing to an ever-readiness - not to attack, but to defend. It is on this placid but defence-ready image of the elephant that the dependant calf is placed - for optimal comfort and security. It is explained that this image symbolizes the prosperous relationship between the Asantehene and the people over whom he rules - not intimidating them with his supreme power and authority, but ensuring their peace and security.

   

  The Calf

  Interestingly, unlike the elephant, the calf is presented panoramically - without the details of ears, tusk and trunk - its source of perception, control, nourishment and defence, for which it would depend on the mother. This is understood to symbolise the governance relationship in the Ashanti Kingdom where the subjects look to the Asantehene for intelligence, protection and support.

  According to traditional informants, the elephant-calf image is sometimes interpreted as symbolizing the permanence of the supremacy of the Ashanti Empire - from 1701 to present – perhaps, unlike others powers which rise and fall.

   

  

   

  Significance

  As intimated above, beyond its art and royal attraction, the elephant-calf image of the Ashanti royalty reflects ethnic and universal ideals of effective leadership, which is for cohesion and protection and, rather than for oppression.  This is evident in the symbol of the wisdom knot and the image of the elephant carrying the calf.  This education on the effective use of power is relevant to majority/minority and local as well as international rich/poor contexts. On the reverse, it also points to the Akan and universal idea of responsible followership - submission and trust, and is easily utilised for the education of children. The image, thus, represents an effective blend of governance, culture and education.

   

   

   

   

  References

  • Kwarteng, K. O. (2006). The elephant in pre-colonial Ghana: Cultural and economic use values. Journal of Philosophy and Culture, Vol. 3 (2) June 2006: 1 -32.
  • Sarpong, P. (1971). The sacred stools of the Akan. Accra: Ghana Publishing.
  • Sekyi-Baidoo, J. Y. (1994) The Aesthetic and cosmological features of the Akan hunters’ song. MPhil Dissertation, Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana, Legon
  • Yankah, K. (1995). Speaking for the chief: Ȯkyeame and the politics of Akan royal oratory. Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.

   

   

   

  Footnote:

   

  1) The term „linguist“ has been adopted in Ghana for the Akan designation  „Okyeame“ in an attempt to find an English equivalent for the role of the chief´s or king´s diplomacy attendant. This may have arisen out of the acknowledgement of the linguistic capabilities displayed by the attendants, whose main resource was language.

   

   

  published January 2021

   

   

   

  This article is part of a gallery: Perspectives from Ghana on Museum Objects in Germany

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• 

  Leonie Chima Emeka

   

  Four figures of captured Africans in black and white marble support a massive triumphal arch on their shoulders. On white marble cushions rests the heavy construction with a sculpture of the doge Giovanni Pesaro in its center. flanked by four virtues — Fides, Fortitudo, Caritas and Justitia — the effigy states justice, faith and militant power as the virtues of the Venetian Republic under the reign of Giovanni Pesaro.¹ With striking vividness the tomb seems to propagate the subjection of the black body in favour of the Venetian civilisation.

   

  The literally black skin of the slaves, their round faces, full lips and swallowing round eyes encourage the assumption that what we see here is a typed representation of the so called ‘Sub-Saharan African’. Our perception today is materially influenced by the knowledge of images of Blackamoors in American and European popular culture, as well as the concrete exploitation of the black body during colonialism and slavery. The experience of Venetians in the 17th century, however, was considerably different to our postcolonial and post-slavery perception today. What nowadays generates emotions of horror and contempt, was meant to advertise a short reign that lasted merely one year from 1658 until the doge's death in 1659.² The tomb was built in 1669, ten years after Giovanni Pesaro’s demise, according to the design of the famous Venetian architect Baldessari Longhena (1598-1682).³

   

  The figures of the black slaves are by most accounts ascribed to the German sculptor Melchior Barthel (1625-1672) and relate, not to Africans captured in the transatlantic slave trade, but to the people enslaved in the war against the Ottoman Empire in defence to the island of Candia (today Crete) which was partly lead under Pesaro’s command.⁴ The weapons and armour which adorn the entablature suggest that the tomb in the shape of a triumphant arch refers to a victorious war. The iconography of victory, however, is a vast exaggeration of the truth, as Pesaro had not been considered successful in his defence of Candia and “ironically the island fell in the hands [… of the Ottoman; note from the author] in 1669, as the monument was completed”.⁵ Other than the slave’s de-humanising features might suggest the monument does not legitimise systematic exploitation of the black body equally to blackamoor iconography. Although the transatlantic slave trade had already started when the Pesaro tomb was completed, many more Europeans suffered enslavement in North Africa than has previously been commonly acknowledged.⁶ Venetian enslavement was such a common experience, that “both Ottomans and Venetians counted their imperial rivalry partially in terms of slaves taken and returned”.⁷

   

  In 1669 Great Britain, which later became the most investigated in the transatlantic slave trade, lost more people to Ottoman enslavement than the other way around. The military strength of the Ottoman Empire rather suggests that the compositional subjection of the black marble slaves are meant to refer, or even constitute, a military strength that was strongly challenged in Pesaro’s lifetime. Unlike the blackamoor iconography, the grave is not to be understood as a visual manifestation of the transatlantic slave trade and colonialism, but postulates a militaristic superiority that was in fact strongly challenged.

   

  Although the black marble slaves in Venice precede blackamoor imagery and its historical context, one cannot disconnect our perception from the traumatic history that would follow. It is hard to overlook the de-humanising effect of the eternally oppressed African sculptures and not to remember the disturbing past of systematic enslavement and its visual representation in de-humanising blackamoor imagery. Even if compared to another massive monumental sculpture featuring Africans as captives the black marble slaves remain singular in their artistic strategy of de-humanisation of the black body.

   

   

  

  © Leonie Chima Emeka

  Giovanni Bandini, Grand Duke Ferdinando I de' Medici 1597-99,
  marble, and Pietro Tacca, I quattro Mori, 1621-26, bronze, height 33 ft. 3 in. (10.14 m) 

   

  

  © Leonie Chima Emeka

   

   

  

  © Leonie Chima Emeka

  Pietro Tacca, I quattro Mori, 1621-1626, Piazza Micheli, Livorno

   

   

  The Monument to Grand Duke Ferdinando I de' Medici in Livorno, Tuscany, is considered the first public monument in early modern Italy to depict enslavement of the black body as a violent act and might have served as a model for the black marble slaves in Venice.⁸ The four bronze figures were manufactured in 1626, only 33 years before the Venetian sculptures, by Pietro Tacca. The four Livorno slaves are in fact a later addition to the monument of the likeness of Ferdinando I. Grand Duke of Tuscany.⁹ Tied to the pedestal they are meant to be understood under the control of Ferdinand I. It is the slaves’ strength and the explicitly forced subjection of these muscular bodies that indicate the elegant but lean Ferdinando I as a strong, assertive and powerful figure.

   

  The four attributes of power completed in Pesaro’s youth, might have offered an alluring imagery for the later Doge, who had been highly criticised and actually taken to court for his military actions in defence of the Isle of Crete.¹⁰ Also the Venetian slaves represent physical strength as they support the massive tomb on their shoulders. The round eyes and big lips in the grimacing round faces which are contorted to an almost animal expression, however, mark the Pesaro slaves as hideous beings. The Venetian Slaves surpass their models in Livorno transcending the degree of de-humanisation to evoke the impression of the African slave as inferior. The slaves in Livorno, who wear a challenging or defeated expression, invite sympathetic emotions while the Venetian figures are deformed to almost caricatures. The status of dominance and subjugation is already apparent in the Venetian figures themselves. Not the presence of the chains, nor their mere position marks them as victims of subjection. It is rather indicated that the subjection is already incorporated in their hilarious features. In presence of the Pesaro slaves one cannot help but feel the uncomfortable impression, that it is the slaves themselves, their explicitly depicted inferiority, which legitimises their enslavement. Barthel’s artistic strategy of de-humanisation marks a shift in the representation of the black body in European imagery. If racism is defined as the naturalisation of the inferiority of the black body it concludes: the Monumento al Doge Giovanni Pesaro is a racist monument before systematic racism.

   

   

  Footnotes

   

  ¹ Identification of virtues: da Mosto, p.250.

  ² Da Mosto, p.253f.

  ³ Da Mosto, p.251. Longhena’s plan can be found in the Zentralinstitute für Kunstgeschichte in Munich.

  ⁴ Ascription and life dates: Kaplan, p.186. Residency in Venice and Ascription: De Mosto, p.251.

  Ascription to Ottomans and War of Candia: Da Mosto, p.238, p.249, p.253. Kaplan, p.186.

  ⁵ Kaplan, p.186. Although Kaplan and De Mosto name “Turks”, I chose the term Ottoman according to Lowe’s statement, that the term ‘Turks’ was often used to describe the whole Ottoman Empire. Da Mosto, p.253.

  ⁶ Davis, p.87ff.

  ⁷ Rothman, p.429

  ⁸ Rosen, p.38.

  ⁹ Construction of pedestal and sculpture: 1597 and 1599 by Giovanni Bandini ibid., p.38.

  ¹⁰ Da Mosto, p.254.

   

   

  published July 2020

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• 

  Bongani Mkhonza

  In this chapter, I trace the original source of the image that inspired the artwork by Sethembile Msezane titled, ‘Chapungu- The Day Rhodes Fell (2015). I envision that to get to the bottom of it, the etymology of the word ‘chapungu’ as used in the title of the artwork will have to be retraced and given context. The second section of the chapter discusses the content of the artwork in relation to how it endeavors to employ the old classical imagery in an attempt to negotiate new meanings. Lastly, borrowing from a family of critical discourse analysis theories (Fairclough and Wodak 1997; van Dijk 1997; Wodak 2001b) the strategies of monumentalisation as constructed by the dominant political culture will be analysed.

  
  What is in the title? The etymology of the word ‘chapungu’.
  
  The word chapungu is associated with a language used by the Shona people found in Zimbabwe. The Shona language developed as part of the greater Bantu heritage populating the central and southern Africa. According to the online VaShona project dictionary, the word chapungu refers to: “Any large, rapacious bird of the Falcon family, esp. of the general Aquila and Haliaeetus. The eagle is remarkable for strength, size, graceful figure, keenness of vision, and extraordinary flight” (https://vashona.com/en/dictionary/sna/chapungu). The Shona tribe of Zimbabwe created myths about the chipungu bird. Some elements of those myths seem to have been inspired by other world’s mythologies of birds with mythical powers. In the beliefs of the Shona, “the bird called chapungu (bateleur eagle) is a good omen, bringing protection and good fortune to a community” (Muzari 2013:1). The chapungu bird is also seen as a symbol of strength hope and renewal. The attributes used by the Shona people to describe the myths and beliefs about the chapungu bird seem to flow into the metaphor of a phoenix bird. Accordingly, I maintain that the context is key in recapturing the derivation of meaning behind the title of Msezane’s artwork. Shedding light on the etymology of the word ‘chapungu’ brings us to appreciate the connection between Cecil John Rhodes and the Shona people of Zimbabwe. Of course, to assume that the title ‘Chapungu - The Day Rhodes Fell’ (2015) is not connected to Cecil John Rhodes might be too farfetched. Evidence drawn from history shows that there is a direct relationship between Rhodes and Zimbabwe (formerly known as Rhodesia). Moreover, when you ask the Shona people where does the word Zimbabwe originate from, they will inform you that it is a Shona word for ‘Stone houses’. Stone houses are a “historical stone structure known as Great Zimbabwe, which is the second largest in Africa after the Egyptian pyramids” (https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/role-cecil-john-rhodes-british-south-african-company-conquest-matabeleland). Cecil John Rhodes and the British South African Company (BSAC) invaded Zimbabwe in 1890. After the invasion, the lands were named the Southern and Northern Rhodesia, to honour Cecil John Rhodes (https://www.sahistory.org.za/people/cecil-john-rhodes). This connection enlightens us in terms of what might have probed the artist to use the Shona word, ‘Chapungu’ as part of a title of her work.

   

  Old image new meanings
  The foreground of the artwork depicts an image of the artist spreading her arms far wide projecting a takeoff position. It is known knowledge that humans will never fly by flapping arms with wings. Therefore, this self-defining act transforms her incapable human physicality into a metaphysical creature that is capable and ready to fly. The act by this metaphysical creature can also be received as its yearning for freedom and justice. Moreover, it also becomes a creature that is able to defy and transcends time and space. In her artists statement Msezane (2016) concedes that “she employs strategies of creating self-definition that are deeply rooted in looking at her own past, be it through spirituality or relearning South African history and its alternate narratives” (Msezane 2016). The image of this creature is strategically deployed for the audience to perhaps liken its agency to that of a myth of the phoenix rising from the ashes.

   

  Associated with the temple of the Sun in Egypt, and re-invented in Greek mythology, the story of the phoenix has been appraised as one of the world’s most-loved stories. It is the mythology of the world of modern monsters as told and retold by writers, philosophers, artists and poets through generations. Tacitus and Ovid are the two great authors from the classical period who stand out when painting a picture of the phoenix mythology. Perhaps it is mostly because of the way that Tacitus ventures out to humanise the attributes and actions of the phoenix and he refers to it as ‘he/him’. While, Ovid negates the phoenix of subject pronouns which are only used when referring to people. In telling his story, Ovid refers to the phoenix as ‘it’.

   

  Tacitus narrated the story in the following detail, “in the consulship of Paulus Fabius (A.D. 34) the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of the Phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited Egypt. It was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance. The first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. However, this duty is not undertaken rashly. He collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. When he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigour, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance” (Bulfinch 19AD:[sp]).

   

  Ovid’s story is almost similar the one told by Tacitus. Ovid’s version is narrated as follows: “Most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. The Assyrians call it the Phoenix. It does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. When it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. In this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these ‘materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odours. From the body of the parent bird, a young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long as its predecessor. When this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent’s sepulchre), and carries it to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun” (Bulfinch 19AD:[sp]). To this end, Msezane’s (2015) artwork references a known classical image of the phoenix to negotiate her struggle to recover her lost forms of visibility as a black woman in South Africa. In this way, it can be said that she is born again. Msezane (2016) is quoted as expressing that, “by examining past and present representations of black women…, in public and private domains, [she] focuses on the omission of iconic black women in history and mythology” (Gallery Momo 2016:[sp]).

   

  At the background, the stage of the statue of ‘Rhodes falling’ is set. The site is loaded with the ambience of euphoria, yet almost similar to the scene of tragedy; it also gives you a baffling feeling of trepidation. A sense of uneasiness perhaps also emanates from an inferred ever presence of violence. Intended or imagined, the violence is visibly signaled by a force of a crane removing the statue. To anyone with eyes and curiosity, the crane’s arm also propounds an idea of a machine-gun. Unlike Camus’ (1942) existential theatre of the absurd, this background theatre in Msezane’s artwork seems to seal the fate of Rhodes, as if ‘he’ was going to be destroyed either way. Either by the truck that is physically depicted removing ‘him’ to a point of obscurity or by the machine gun.

   

  Monuments and dominant political power
  In concluding notes, monuments form part of a critical discourse in the legitimisation of a dominant political power structure. The public installation of powerful elites as iconic figures is either a precursor or descendant of the formulation of a nation. Either way, monuments and monumentalisation are a political construct that is trapped within the discourse of inclusion and exclusion. In response to this dilemma, Msezane’s artwork (2015) deploys a struggle to affirm the existence of the excluded in the formulation the powerful symbols for the nation. Most of all, her work challenges the percieved role of national symbols and commemoration spaces as key features in the portrayal of women as invisible subjects in history. As a young women growing up in Cape Town South Africa, Msezane looked around and saw no reflection of herself represented in public space such as the statues and monuments. Her performance piece where her female black body stands upright holding her wings straight out to the sides as if a phoenix rising from the ashes is indeed an act of self-affirmation. Msezane asks for no permissions but use the re-imaging as a strategy to re-insect her female black body as evidence of her existence.

   

  Bibliography

  • Birch, D. 2009: The Oxford Companion to English Literature (7 ed.) The Theatre of the Absurd (1942). Oxford University Press.
  • Bulfinch, T. 2019: AD Bulfinch’s mythology: the age of fable: the age of chivalry: legends of Charlemagne. New York: Modern Library.
  • Fairclough, N. and Wodak, R. 1997: Critical discourse analysis, in T. van Dijk (ed.), Discourse Studies: A Multidisciplinary Introduction. Vol. 2. London: Sage, pp. 258–84.
  • http://www.krugerpark.co.za/africa_bateleur_eagle.html (Accessed 20 January 2019).
  • https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/role-cecil-john-rhodes-british-south-african-company-conquest-matabeleland (Accessed 19 January 2019).
  • https://www.sahistory.org.za/people/cecil-john-rhodes (Accessed 19 January 2019).
  • http://www.unwomen.org/en/news/in-focus/women-and-the-sdgs (Accessed 23 January 2019).
  • https://vashona.com/en/dictionary/sna/chapungu (Accessed 20 January 2019).
  • Msezane, S. 2016: Artist statement. Gallery Momo, Johannesburg.
  • Msezane, S. 2017: Kwasuka Sukela: Re-imagined Bodies of a (South African) 90s Born Woman. Exhibition catalogue 2017, Gallery Momo, Cape Town
  • Muzari, G. 2013: When a luck-bringing bird falters. The Standard News. Zimbabwe.
  • van Dijk, T. (ed.) 1997: Discourse Studies: A Multidisciplinary Introduction. 2 Vols. London: Sage.
  • Wodak, R. 2001: What CDA is about — a summary of its history, important concepts and its developments, in R. Wodak and M. Meyer (eds), Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage, pp. 1–13.

   

   

  published November 2019

   

   

   

  

  Janina Totzauer

  "Rhodes Must Fall" - Personal Experiences of a Guest Student in Cape Town

  
  The protests around Rhodes Must Fall were a unique and cathartic experience for me as a German guest student in Cape Town in 2015. When I arrived in January, the city was on fire. Literally, because it was the hottest summer in a long time and Table Mountain had caught fire; figuratively, because something was boiling under the students. While the fire-fighting helicopters thundered over our heads, I caught up within a few weeks what the German school books on colonial history denied me. Cecil Rhodes, great colonial ruler and self-proclaimed philanthropist, had once donated large tracts of land to the University of Cape Town, securing for himself an imposing statue on the main campus. Sitting on a throne, the eternal bronze image gazes down from the heights of Table Mountain to the plains of Cape Town, the so-called Cape Flats, where even today many of the poorest of the poor live. The only problem with his patronage is that he illegally appropriated the building land that secured him the eternal gratitude of the university, befitting a colonial ruler. In other words, he stole the land from the locals and drove them out.
  
  Twenty-one years after the fall of Apartheid in South Africa, it seems overdue that such a ruler be overthrown. The first generation of "Free Borns", all South Africans born in free South Africa after 1994, had reached their third year at the University of Cape Town and they yearned for this reminder of the colonial past to fall.
  
  I remember hot afternoons spent in the streets. We demonstrated; all of us, white and black, "coloured" or "Indian" as they say in South Africa. Water bottles were passed around, the heat brought some of us to our knees. By the second demonstration, there were many more of us, hundreds. The driveway to the university was blocked. We were better organised. Water bottles, oranges and yoghurt were passed around. When I squinted puzzled at the countless milk cartons, they explained to me that they were there in case we had to wash our eyes out if the police would shoot at us with tear gas. I was still laughing. Later that afternoon, I provided milk to screaming faces and watery eyes. Art students staged performances and the main leaders fired up the crowd through the megaphone. "Rhodes Must Fall!", "Decolonise our University!" In between, old struggle songs were sung in Zulu. Songs that once accompanied the fall of Apartheid. I didn't understand a word, yet the power of the crowd pierced me. Something big was happening here, the history of the country yearned to be rewritten in the coming weeks.
  
  I pushed my way to the student-organised congress about the next demo on the main campus. I wanted to know where to help. The atmosphere was heated. There was a lot of shouting. Anger spoke from many speakers. I wanted to get involved and raised my hand when, after a while, it was announced that no white people were allowed to speak today. I couldn't believe it at first. I was raging inside. I was on your side. I had been forbidden to speak and I was outraged. To this day, that small and subtle moment is a big turning point for me. Over the next few weeks, I worked my way from indignation to the realisation of what a privilege life I must have lived if I was so outraged to be banned from speaking for once. What a democratic paradise I must have grown up, if I take it for granted that I am allowed to speak and be heard. The fact that the ban was issued because of my skin colour brought me back into the prevailing conflict. If this one ban on speaking upset me so much, how must the majority of people in South Africa have felt during Apartheid. A trauma that even the first generation "Free Borns" have not yet let go of.
  
  We were standing in front of a government building - I don't remember which one exactly - when the howling grenades went off. We were only about 40 students that day. I knew many of them from the art campus. It was hot and they kept sending white students forward to demand water from the government building's securities or to stand in the front row as a buffer against the police who besieged us. Skin colour as a defence mechanism. The demonstrators implied that whites were less likely to be attacked by the police. That they would be treated more politely and thus have their water bottles refilled. Just two small examples of grievances that seems to be out in the open in South Africa, but disappear under the colourful emblem of the "Rainbow Nation". When a small scuffle broke out between the young demonstrators and the few police officers, there were suddenly two bangs. So loud that the world seemed to sink into eternal silence afterwards. Everyone bursted apart, a young man sunk to the ground. He held his ears. He was later taken to hospital in a taxi.
  
  It is the 9th of April when the protests are heard. The university has been closed for weeks because of the demonstrations, but today everyone gathers on the main campus. Cecil Rhodes is going to fall. We can't believe it yet. A crane is ready and thick winches hang around his body. Mr Rhodes' head is dripping with red paint, his jacket decorated with graffiti for weeks. We stand on the steps at Cecil's back, also looking down on the city. The city that in a few minutes will be a bit more free. More decolonised. There is singing and dancing. For the first time in weeks, the mood is exuberant. There are hundreds of us, representatives of all political parties take the microphone again and again, wanting to make sure they were there at this historically important moment. And then it happens, the statue is lifted from its pedestal. The crowd screams, drones circle in the air. Smartphones capture everything for eternity. And when the construction fences can no longer hold back the crowd, people also dance on the truck that slowly drives a Cecil Rhodes crowned with a dirty bucket off campus. The crowd continues to dance into the evening hours and as classes tentatively resume at the university the following week, the spirit of revolution is in the air. "We have been heard". To this day, the fall of Cecil Rhodes stands for a first strike in the struggle for the decolonisation of South Africa, not only on university campuses.

   

  Published December 2021

   

  Translation by Matthew Bremner

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• 

  Stefan Eisenhofer

  In 1971, El Loko moved to Germany to study sculpture, painting and graphics with Joseph Beuys, Rolf Crummenauer and Erwin Heerich at the Staatliche Kunstakademie Düsseldorf, where he graduated as a master student in 1977. He created woodblock prints, sculptures, installations, drawings, graphics, photographs, paintings and performances in almost four decades, using an extremely wide range of working techniques and forms of expression. El Loko participated in numerous solo and group exhibitions on several continents and his work has been widely published. In addition, he repeatedly organised workshops for artistic and intercultural exchange in Europe and Africa.

   

  El Loko, who lived and worked in Cologne (Germany) until his death in 2016, was one of the first African artists to venture into the art worlds of the West. His autobiographical book "Der Blues in mir" (The Blues in Me) - published in 1986, written in German and illustrated with woodcuts by the author - vividly recounts how he had to fight for and invent his identity and his path as a human being and artist at that time.

   

  In Germany, El Loko experimented from 1972 onwards primarily with woodcuts before turning to painting in the mid-1980s. His series "Landschaften" (Landscapes), which interspersed colourful architectural elements with human faces, bodies and body parts and aesthetically dealt with the theme of threat, confusion and alienation in an urban context and how to overcome them, subsequently gained great popularity.

   

  Subsequently, it became characteristic of El Loko that, for all the diversity of his work, he took up certain themes almost cyclically. His series of works "World Faces", "Cosmic Letters" and "Figure Landscapes" played a special role here, which he reinterprets again and again, seeking different perspectives and positions. Through a non-hierarchical treatment of the face or the bust portrait, the "World Faces" convey the vision's striving to abolish the differences between people of different origins, world views and gender. A utopian striving for a universal language and a global identity manifests itself in his series of works "Cosmic Letters", in a sense an alphabet of his own characteristic visual language. In paintings and pigmented steles made of wood and steel, El Loko combines ornaments, figurations, signs and ciphers of different origins and strives, by means of this symbolic sign language, for an art language that can be understood worldwide and for the construction of a meaningful world of his own.

   

  Inspired by Joseph Beuys and the dissolution of the conventional bourgeois concept of art, El Loko also turned to temporary art actions from 1976 onwards. He developed his "duel performances", which combined poetry, song and drum rhythms and were characterised by the principle of rhetorical surprise and immediate reaction to each other.

   

  In his installations, El Loko deals primarily with Western images of Africa and clichés in an often provocative manner. In his popular work "How to explain pictures to a pack" (1995), he ironically takes up Joseph Beuys' action "How to explain pictures to a dead hare" (1965): A gathered pack of 70 animals stands in front of a map of Africa hanging on the wall, composed of various elements and symbols like a puzzle. With this installation, El Loko not only posed questions about images of Africa, but also traced his own situation at the same time: The pack as the world that lies outside of him looks on the one hand expectantly, on the other hand more or less uncomprehendingly at him as an artist. In "The eternal mask" (2006), the artist painted 50 portrait photos of Africans with acrylic, alluding to Western views of African people: Through the disfiguring colour, the faces lose their individuality, become anonymous and frightening. In his work "Africa down", partly done in Cologne (Germany) and finished in Cape Town (South Africa), El Loko addresses the positions of Africans in the world. The visitors to the exhibition were forced to walk on 256 photos of Africans and 53 African national flags lying on the floor, through which the artist makes the oppression and devaluation of Africa and its people through colonialism and through corrupt, selfish and ignorant African rulers almost physically comprehensible. His provocative installation "Mohrenköpfe - Hohlköpfe" (2005), which questions the role of kleptomaniac politicians of black skin colour who systematically ruin their own continent and do not care about cultural matters or the economic or social development of their countries, aims in a similar direction. As in all his works, El Loko was not interested in simplistic answers or accusations, but in a serious examination of painful and uncomfortable topics as well.

   

   

  
  Image 1: Vogelakrobatik, 1996, 250x30x20 cm //  Image 2: PE.VO.TO.7, EL Loko, 2017, 135x99 cm  //  Image 3: El Loko at Museum Fünf Kontinente (Karin Guggeis, El Loko, Stefan Eisenhofer)  //  Image 4: Dokponou (Der Gescheiterte - The failed), El Loko, 2013, Acrylic on canvas, 80x120 cm.  //  Image 5: Vogelakrobatik, 1996, 250x30x20, Museum Fünf Koninente, Munich. All images: Copyright Museum Fünf Kontinente, Munich.

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  Ebenezer Kwabena Acquah

   

  This essay seeks to draw readers’ attention to the National Theatre of Ghana in order to recognize its relevance within the country’s visual cultural landscape. The National Theatre is a monumental edifice situated in the nation’s capital, Accra. It is supported by the government, and largely devoted to musical performances and stage productions, among others (Wilson, 1988). Theatrical performances in the National Theatre are part of the nation’s cultural heritage and present the people with creative thoughts and reflections on life. The establishment of the National Theatre of Ghana was, to a large extent, largely supported by the National Theatre Movement of the 1950s by cultural experts like Efua Sutherland and Professor J. H. Kwabena Nketia (Agovi, 1990).

   

  The National Theatre was completed on December 16, 1992, commissioned and handed over by the Peoples Republic of China to the Government of Ghana on December 30, 1992 (www.nationaltheatre.gov.gh/history/ retrieved 2020, August 7). The Theatre was designed to be used by people from all walks of life and diverse age groups. Since its inception, the National Theatre has hosted a number of performances and exhibitions from both local and international communities with the intention of promoting visual culture in a heterogeneous global landscape.

   

   

  Location, Structure, and Artistic Appreciation

  The boat-like building is located near the junction of Liberia Road and Independence Avenue, adjacent to Efua Sutherland Children’s Park, in Accra’s central district.

   

  Three distinct structural forms comprise The National Theatre building, with each structure housing its own performance group/company: the National Theatre Players, National Dance Company, and the National Symphony Orchestra. A closer look at the entire structure reveals three distinct parts aside from the structural forms mentioned earlier. The upper part portrays three boats joined together, supported by rectangular piers with curved outward projections, and a rectangular base with entrance and exit openings. In fact, the entrances and windows seem to be carved out of the rectangular base. All of the entrances are elevated from the ground level with a staircase, which leads up to the glass entrances and into the building (https://3rdworldarchitecture.wordpress.com/2018/02/04/national-theatre-of-ghana/ retrieved 2020, August 7). The base is designed to create a projection at the entrance that provides visitors with the necessary protection from inclement weather.

   

  

  National Theatre. Aerial view over National Theatre. Photo: Cheng Taining, 1997, link: https://archnet.org/sites/1413/media_contents/15315.

   

   

  Above the base, there are distinct white forms. They taper upwards from the centre and meet towards the outside of the base. The walls curve inwards and are lifted just above the solid base, with glass in between them, making the base and white forms more distinct and thereby reinforcing the differences between them. Small white tiles cover these forms, giving the building its shape and colour. A closer look at the shape of the National Theatre reveals a display of three boats/canoes or fishing vessels that meet at a central point, which takes the form of a captain's bridge. The entire structure is supported by curvy piers and rests on a rectangular base as presented in the image above.

   

  A careful study of the architectural ‘language’ of the National Theatre reveals a combination of interior and exterior Asian architecture, symbolic Ghanaian forms and boat construction. Generally, Chinese architecture is based on the relevance of influential local cultural traditions and adherence to hierarchy (Lianto, 2020). It prioritizes spatial designs with balanced symmetrical central pivots and a reverence for nature and aesthetics. Additionally, the dominant use of red represents happiness, which is also found throughout the interior of the National Theatre.

   

  The curvy structure of the theatre in general nods towards Asian architecture. The seating space is segmented along stepped floors and the undulating structured ceiling is reminiscent of waves with openings defined by lighting systems. In fact, the use of sculptural forms and other Ghanaian art works effectively combine with the architectural structure to convey the visual cultural landscape of the National Theatre.

   

   

  Sculptures in Public Space

  Sculptural forms executed by Ghanaian artists are carefully displayed outside the National Theatre. The following image shows a sculptural work that depicts a Sankofa, a traditional Ghanaian symbol.

   

  

  Emefa Jewellery, Sankofa, 2015, H: 11ft., Presented by Values for Life NGO to the National Theatre, Photo: Wisdom Dzigbordi.

   

  The Sankofa represents taking the opportunity to reflect upon the past and applying significant and relevant ideas to current developments. Thus, the past has something relevant that must be considered and utilized as part of contemporary practice.

   

   

  Education and Cultural Relevance

  The National Theatre of Ghana is a significant cultural centre in Accra, Ghana and the entire form of this visual cultural structure provides people from diverse walks of life a place for entertainment and relaxation. The building is a visual architectural icon for the city and is an influential hub for creative art performances. It therefore serves as an important edifice to promote the arts, offering both Ghanaian and foreign artists a place to express their creativity.

   

  In addition to providing entertainment and relaxation, the theatre seeks to educate people and stakeholders (who periodically use the place) on the responsibility of the National Theatre of Ghana as a strong cultural institution that ensures the development of culture, including the performing arts, and the need to respect cultural values. Through this education, the activities of the theatre are brought into focus, preserved, promoted and transmitted to the next generation for posterity and the promotion of visual culture across the world.

   

   

   

   

   

  References

  • Agovi, K. E. (1990). The origin of literary theatre in colonial Ghana, 1920-1957. Research Review, 6(1), 1-22.
  • Frimpong, M. (2015). Towards an audience development plan for the National Theatre of Ghana. Unpublished Thesis. University of Ghana, Legon.
  • Lianto, F. (2020, August 9). Building structure system of Chinese architecture, past and present. Retrieved from https://www.academia.edu/33602498/BUILDING_STRUCTURE_SYSTEM_OF_CHINESE_ARCHITECTURE_PAST_AND_PRESENT
  • National Theatre of Ghana (2020). History of the National Theatre of Ghana. Retrieved on January 10, 2020 from http://www.nationaltheatre.gov.gh/history
  • Wilson, E. (1988). The theatre experience (4^th ed.). New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company.
  • 3rdworldarchitecture.wordpress.com (2018, January 4). National Theatre of Ghana. Retrieved from https://3rdworldarchitecture.wordpress.com/2018/02/04/national-theatre-of-ghana/

   

   

  published August 2020

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  Patrique deGraft-Yankson

   

  School crests, school logos or school emblems as they are variously referred to are a popular feature in the functions of all academic institutions in Ghana. They are normally designed to visually reflect the key ideologies and philosophies upon which educational institutions thrive. In determining a logo for academic institutions therefore, efforts are put in place to ensure that they serve an appreciable level of visual representativeness. By this, school logos in so many ways establish emotional connections with parents, students and other stakeholders, whose interpretations and perceptions determine their level of confidence and trust in the institutions.

   

  This logo, by its very visual appeal, informed by the familiarity of the key compositional element and simplicity, generates a point for discussion. Moreover, the popularity and the history of Achimota College always makes it an important destination for various studies pertaining to senior high school education in Ghana. In my current interest in the study of icons and symbols therefore, the Achimota School crest comes handy, worthy and accessible.

   

  The designer of the Achimota School crest is not really known as most of the literature on the school's history is silent on the subject. However, judging from the fact that the key concept behind the logo emanated from a popular quote from Dr Emmanuel Kwegyir Aggrey, the Old Achimota Association attributes both its origin and design to him (OAA, 1973). The creation of the Achimota School crest follows strictly the conventional crest design procedures which inform the design of several school crests in Ghana. It is composed of a classic narrow base shield, with the all-important motto of the school, ut omnes unum sint (Latin phrase meaning ‘that all may be one’), rendered in an arc form below the shield to provide a mantling and support of a sort to the design. In a rather minimalistic fashion, the key element of the design which also represents the main ideal of the school (the piano keyboard) has been rendered in amazing level of simplicity which makes it easy to perceive and reproduce by all graphic reproduction methods.

   

  By this design process, the Achimota school logo offers a depth of meaning without being too literal in its composing elements. It has a pleasing contrast between dark and light, and connection to the existing school structures. Most importantly, the logo has sustained the semiotics and narratology which students, parent and stakeholders have always responded to since the establishment of the school.

   

  It can be said that the logo of the Achimota college is more than a visual representation of the ideals of an educational institution. By mere consideration of the diversity in the caliber of people who masterminded its foundation, the school’s logo could indeed be described as the very foundation upon which the school was built. The logo seems to echo silently a belief that underscores the essence of peaceful coexistence of all manner of people, as exemplified in the collaboration of people of different colours from different parts of the world coming together to establish an institution of that caliber. It must be noted that the use of black and white keys of the piano to signify the harmony that comes along with peaceful co-existence of people of all races mean a lot more than anti-racial advocacy. It is obvious that Aggrey, drawing from his own experiences as a black young man who has been able to successfully attain the feats that could be equaled to what any white young man of his age could attain, was drawing the attention of the African youth to their own strength and capabilities. This is because Aggrey lived in a time when the “black man” looked up to the “white man” as an embodiment of all wisdom and custodian of all the goodies that mankind needed for their existence. The idea that he, as a black young man could attain a higher education just as the white man had not been very much considered. Aggrey making himself a case for the possibility of the black race mixing up perfectly with the white race to produce something good therefore seemed to be the underlining principle for the creation of the logo of the Achimota school.

   

  The question of Aggrey creating this logo not for some cooperate body or a church is also an interesting factor to consider. As far back as 1924, Aggrey sought to established the efficacy of ‘education’ in the promulgation of ideals, principles and philosophies. This is deducible from the efforts he put in co-founding the Achimota College with Sir Frederick Gordon Guggisberg and Rev Alec Garden Fraser; opening up the college for both male and female; and ensuring that teachers were made up of blacks, whites, males, females. This indicates Dr Aggrey’s confidence in education as an important avenue for the promotion of peaceful co-existence and harmonious living.  He believed strongly that quality education would contribute to balance and a peaceful society, and promote his conviction that ‘black keys of the piano give good sounds and the white keys give good sounds, but the combination of the two gives the best melody’. What a beautiful reason for all mankind to live as one!

   

  Considering ongoing efforts towards the achievement of a coherent global community, as well as the premium laid on education as a single unit that can be used to achieve the sustainable development goals, it could be concluded that the relevance of the Achimota school logo is important today more than it has ever been.  It therefore makes a whole world of sense to argue that the logo of the Achimota school could be considered as a strong icon for well-balanced education and a perfect advocate for education for sustainable development (ESD).

   

   

  References

  • Old Achimota Associstion (1973). Dr Aggrey. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from Retrieved 03 https://sites.google.com/site/oaa1973akoras/home/founders/dr-aggrey
  • Wada, K. (2010). Achimota School. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https://www.blackpast.org/global-african-history/achimota-college-achimota-school-1924/

   

   

  published August 2020

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  Paul-Henri Souvenir ASSAKO ASSAKO

  The image is a photograph showing details of the French artist Christian Lapie’s public installations in 2001 in the city of Ngaoundéré, capital of the Adamawa Region in Cameroon. The work consists of five modules composed of nine figures, ranging between 150 and 450cm each and laid in a semi-circular radius of 1000 cm. The pieces are made of wood and placed vertically in an upright position. The upper end is shaped like a head, giving each piece the appearance of a human silhouette. Arranged like a gathering of people dressed in local traditional attire, called boubou (a long, loose-fitting garment worn by both sexes in parts of Africa), the works are aligned in a semi-circular arc.

   

  The work’s detailed structure is closely linked to its title Djaoulérou, which means "traditional space, place of meeting and reception". The artist echoes customs in a context where the relationship between traditional practices and Islam remains ambiguous. Islam provides an opportunity for certain members of local society to acquire privileged positions under the auspices of religion. Religion’s role in the political game has proven to be so important that post-colonial politicians have laboured to maintain control of the religious sphere in every region. Religion presents challenges for politicians in terms of governance and control. Maud Lasseur (2005, 95), echoing this sentiment, maintains that: “During the colonial period and under the regime of President Ahidjo (1960–1982), Christian missions were thus contained to the south of Cameroon so as not to hinder the Muslim aristocracy of the Far North or thwart the unifying political project of the first Cameroonian president”. 

   

  The monumental character of the work, the rhythm and movement suggested by forms treated with little attention to detail, the variations in volume and the different dimensions of each silhouette make the installation look both impressive and expressive. Each individual group of statues, displayed at the same time in different places in the city, shows how the "mysterious objects" made by a foreign artist present unfamiliar traits regarding the city’s socio-cultural imagination. The work breaks taboos: an unusual appearance that creates artistic experience, tradition and beliefs, which have become subject to manipulation and political propaganda within the society.

   

  The work’s destruction reflects the fragility of a slavish society instrumentalized by politically motivated religious arguments in the 2002 legislative elections in Cameroon. The fact that a French artist has carried out an unusual and iconoclastic installation project in this city is seen as a provocation, particularly by the Muslim cultural authority. This religious and political authority occupies a very influential social position as "guardian of the temple" (custodian of traditions) and is in a position to incite people to commit acts of such magnitude.  In addition to setting fire to the works and proceeding to uninstall them, public authorities definitively closed down the Franco-Cameroonian alliance of Ngaoundéré because of the social unrest the works provoked. This cultural centre for Franco-Cameroonian cooperation had supported the artist's installation project.

   

  The act of vandalism perpetrated on Christian Lapie’s work exposes Cameroon’s national society in search of landmarks. Art, and particularly sculpture, has played an important role in expressing belief systems. The cosmogonic universe and the world view of the populations that have succeeded one another in this territory have been revealed through artistic representation. The bold production and reproduction of anthropomorphic, zoomorphic, geometric and imaginary forms is typical of these societies. As in many countries in sub-Saharan Africa, art has helped what people see, think, imagine and believe (J.P. Notué, 2005). Because of the lack of critical understanding of their history and the changes they experienced, societies are confronted with major shocks that have an impact on their development. Among these shocks are an ambiguous relationship to religion. Its consequences are the religious and political manipulation that societies are sometimes subjected to. One historical reason for this is the attitude of missionaries who made no discernment in the positive values of the tradition and the absence of doctrine and deep convictions of these values (E. Mveng, 1985). 

   

  Cameroon’s colonial religious legacy is one of the most important sources of the ethical foundation of its society in the 21st century. The generalization of the religious profession of faith/conversion seems to have fostered a latent form of "alienation" among the urban society. There is a superficial knowledge of both the principles of modern culture and the traditional environment, two references whose slavish play of opposites have political stakes. In Cameroon, the policy of conviviality between Islam, other religions and local cultural practices implemented by Sultan Njoya in the Kingdom of Bamum presents elements of inspiration for a compelling form of social emancipation. The policy of inculturation and multi-confessionalism has favoured the cultural openness of society and preserved, for example, the sustainability of the region’s remarkable creative industry. Art, belief systems and politics are all values of cultural expression fundamental to society.

   

  The work breaks taboos: the artistic experience created by its unusual appearance calls upon traditions and beliefs that have become subject to manipulation and political propaganda within the society.

   

   

   

  References

  • Mveng Engelbert. 1985, Histoire du Cameroun, tom 2, Yaoundé, Ed. CEPER.
  • NOTUE Jean-Paul, TRIACA Bianca, 2005, Bandjoun, Trésors royaux du Cameroun, Milan, Ed. 5 continents.
  • Maud Lasseur. 2005, in «  www.cairn.info/revue-afrique-contemporaine-2005 ».
  • Assako Assako PH.S. 2011, l’art au cameroun du XXe au début du XXIe siècle : étude des expressions sculpturales en milieu urbain, thèse de Doctorat/Ph.D. en histoire de l’art, Université de Yaoundé 1.
  • www.christianlapie.net/oeuvres/16/djaoulerou
  • www.christianlapie.net/mobile/news/326/.%20http:#news
  • www.christianlapie.net

   

   

  published February 2020

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  Dong Xiaoling

   

  In the 13^th century, when traffic and information were sparse, Marco Polo, a Venetian, came to China by land and served the Chinese Yuan imperial court from 1275 to 1295. The white Chinese porcelain vases, which he took back to his motherland and which are archived at San Marco Museum in Venice today, are reputed as a symbol of the Chinese vogue that went viral in Europe 300 years later. The Travels of Marco Polo has stirred European’s imagination of China^[1] , and also promoted Europe's maritime exploration.

   

  However, before the opening of the new sea route between China and Europe in the 15^th century, Chinese porcelains were rarely exported to the European market as a commodity. The trade of Chinese porcelains to Europe was monopolized by Arab merchants, while European merchants could only obtain fewer Chinese porcelains from West Asia and Egypt in the form of intermediary trade. Unlike silk and spices, which were easy to carry and transport, Chinese porcelains were mostly sold locally by means of land transportation because of their fragility and weight. They were closely connected with local culture, after which they were imprinted with local aesthetic characteristics and shipped to Europe. However, Chinese porcelains were not what they had always been. Forerunner of great geographical discoveries as he was, Zheng made seven large-scale ocean voyages during Ming Dynasty from 1405 to 1433, but did not establish direct contact with Europe.

   

  Comparatively, European humanism and capitalism were at an embryo stage. From the 15^th century to the 17^th century, European fleets represented by Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands carried out sailing explorations in order to seek new trade routes and trading partners as well as develop the capitalism in Europe.

   

  First, Chinese porcelains were shipped to Europe as ballast. However, the European upper class favoured them by virtue of their smooth texture, delicate and hard casing and exquisite emblazonment. European royal nobles and bishops all were keen on owning Chinese porcelains to show off their wealth and status. European royal families’ love to Chinese porcelains did not ease in spite of the fact that they had little understanding of the materials and techniques and far away China. Philip II of Spain (1527-1598) had a collection of 3,000 pieces. Although Europe started importing Chinese porcelains on a big scale, a mysterious atmosphere always clung to these exquisite utensils. At that time, some people in Europe even thought that Chinese porcelains could play an anti-virus effect.

   

  The French doctor Loys Guyon (1527-1617) and Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682) of England studied Chinese porcelains. Père Francois Xavier d'Entrecolles (1664-1741), a French missionary, was in Jingdezhen, China, for 7 years during the 17^th century. In 1712 and 1722, he wrote reports on the details of Chinese porcelains making which he observed and inquired into and mailed them back to the Jesuits in Europe, making it possible for French to imitate porcelains locally.

   

  Already in 1575, Italian Medici Grand Duke Francesco's factory made an attempt to produce porcelains, which was the first imitation recorded in Europe. Such a kind of Medici pottery bottle with blue and white patterns is collected in the Louvre. Both the white glazed blue painted pottery in Delft, the Netherlands, and the Nevers kiln in France have imitated the decorative style of Chinese porcelains. However, in terms of materials, they came in pottery or soft porcelain. The alchemist Bottger did not calcinate the earliest European porcelain at Meissen, Germany until 1709. In this process, the aesthetic taste in Europe had gradually changed. The fashion of loving oriental artifacts had gradually spread from nobles to rich bourgeoisie. As the demand for relatively cheap goods had also become more and more vigorous, porcelains had gradually turned a part of the daily life of the common. The nature of Chinese porcelain had gradually changed from collectibles to daily commodities.

   

  In order to meet the needs of European society, East India Companies in European countries imported a large number of porcelains from China in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. In China, this kind of porcelain for export was called export-purpose Chinese porcelain.^[2] From the change of shape and pattern the export-purpose Chinese porcelains can be roughly classified into traditional styles, hybrid styles and foreign styles.

  1. Traditional styles (The shape and decoration of porcelain have not been influenced by foreign styles, and are no different from products on the Chinese market.)

  From the opening of the new sea route in the 16^th century to the lift of the ban on maritime trade in 1684, it was illegal for Chinese to export porcelains. As per the ban on maritime trade in the Ming Dynasty, non-governmental maritime trade was strictly prohibited, while official tribute trade was allowed with strict restrictions. Foreign countries could only conduct limited official trade with the Ming authorities. Since then, the Qing authorities have repeated the ban on maritime trade. The production and shipment then were at great risks.

   

  Merchants usually purchased Chinese porcelains in Guangzhou and then shipped them abroad from Macao, making the export-purpose Chinese porcelains dominated by traditional Chinese style at this stage. It influenced the early stage of the Chinese style in Europe as well as the reproduction and imitation of Chinese porcelain with soft pottery in Europe. Chinese porcelains were mainly used as daily necessities, such as dishes, bowls, bottles and pots. But there were few ornamental porcelains as well. The decorative patterns mostly came in cloud-dragons, deer, horses, cranes, monkeys, flying butterflies, birds and insects, folding branches and flowers, fairy ladies with babies, city walls with mountains and waters, auspicious characters, etc.

   

  

  Unknown, Blue and white porcelain vase, 1700-1710, Victoria and Albert Museum London.

   

  The style of blue-and-white porcelains represented the life of the easterners to Europeans. A great number of Chinese porcelains of this kind are recorded in the archives of Dutch East India Company.

   

  On the one hand, few Chinese porcelains were exported to Europe with a higher price; on the other hand, the pure oriental shape made Chinese porcelains deviate from the daily needs of Europeans. For example, easterners’ habit of eating rice and using chopsticks makes bowls the most common utensils in the East, while westerners’ custom of eating bread and using knives and forks has not made bowls, with a deep-walled shape, the mainstream of European tableware by far. Because the typical Chinese tableware consists of fewer parts compared to Western dining habits, Chinese porcelain dishes could only be used for holding cakes and pastries in Europe. For example, porcelain pen containers were used as wine cooler, and porcelain fish tanks were used as flowerpots... Chinese porcelains were constrained in terms of use, and often modified or displayed as ornaments. Therefore, a new style came out in the course of development.

  2. Hybrid styles. (Chinese traditional style couples with foreign ornaments and vise versa, or Eastern themes couple with Western ones for hybrid ornaments.)

  It is the stage of free transformation of Chinese style porcelains. Among this type, porcelain with traditional Chinese themes, or a mixture of different themes from China and Europe, combined with European shapes is the most representative. Part of the changes in the shape of European porcelain came from metalware, and part from the changes in lifestyle brought about by trade. For example, since the 17^th century, Europeans have been importing black tea and coffee from the East and chocolate from Mexico. These hot drinks come brown in color after brewing, and white Chinese porcelains serve as the most suitable drinking utensils. The emergence of new eating habits has promoted the transformation of Chinese porcelain utensils. The Dutch enlarged the size of traditional Chinese small teacups and designed a lug.^[3] Kraak porcelain^[4] and Mandarin style were the most representative.

   

  

  Unknown, Dish, ca. 1635-1655, Kraak Porcelain, Diameter: 47,5 cm, Bibliographic Reference: Clunas, Craig (ed.). Chinese Export Art and Design. London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 1987, p. 38, fig. 16.

   

  Kraak porcelain is a form of blue and white porcelain exported from Wanli Period of Ming Dynasty (1573-1620) to early Qing Dynasty. It was mainly shaped in dishes, bottles and bowls, and represented by trimmed patterns. These patterns came round, diamond-shaped and lotus petal-shaped, with designs of flowers, birds, fish and insects, landscapes, figures and auspicious mascots commonly seen in Chinese porcelains. Later, exotic religious myths and social life themes appeared in trimmed patterns. In terms of techniques, the traditional way of drawing the outline of the pattern on the surface of the porcelain body with a writing brush and then filling it in with color was adopted. Kraak porcelain is a kind of export-purpose porcelain with the largest quantity and the longest influence period of more than 100 years. After that, blue and white porcelain in Kangxi Period (1662-1722) of Qing Dynasty came in western rendering techniques in drawing, showing a maximum of eight or nine color gradations on the porcelain body. And it drew much popularity among westerners.

   

  The word “Mandarin” was a name for Chinese officials when Portuguese traded with Chinese merchants in the 17^th century. In the 17^th and 18^th centuries, many missionaries and painters came to China and recorded their experiences there, including their life and work with Chinese officials in addition to preaching.

   

  Most of the decorative patterns depicted the life of officials and wealthy merchants in Qing Dynasty, who enjoyed a rich and leisurely family life. These descriptions and landscape paintings further aroused European‘s curiosity about live in China. Aiming at this market opportunity, Guangzhou Porcelain Workshop launched Mandarin style products for European and American markets. Some patterns use the perspective technology of European oil paintings, and the expressions of the characters are vivid, which conforms to the aesthetic orientation of Europeans. These patterns presented a desirable pastoral oriental atmosphere for westerners. Playing in picturesque courtyard gardens, hunting in enchanting springtime, harmonious coexistence between human beings and nature, and vivid home life scenes embodied elegant Chinese costumes, fascinating home decoration, exquisite garden scenes, and charming family happiness. These themes greatly satisfied Europeans’ curiosity and yearning for the East.

   

  

  Unknown, Three Vases, 1700-1720, Procelain, Jingdezhen, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden.

   

  3. Foreign styles. (Chinese porcelains satisfying the requirements of European merchants in terms of shapes and patterns, calcined elaborately to serve European consumers’ needs. Most of the patterns were drawn in strict accordance with the prints and patterns as required by customers, so they were usually called custom-made porcelains.)

  One type was produced in the 17th century. Since Europe had not yet mastered the technology of porcelain-making, Chinese porcelain workers imitated the pottery of European style according to the requirements of European merchants. Chinese Porcelain competed with European pottery in this way and earned a lot of silver used as currency.

   

  

  Unknown, Vase with Angel, 1700, Porcelain, H: 36cm, Victoria and Albert Museum London. Bibliographic Reference: Clunas, Craig (ed.). Chinese Export Art and Design. London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 1987, p. 60, fig. 40.

   

  Another type emerged when the Chinese style in the West reached its peak in the 18th century and Chinese characters and landscapes imagined by Westerners appeared in the patterns. The pictures are humorous and interesting, while the number is quite limited. In addition, there were porcelain carvings, figures and animals.

   

  The pattern was typically formed by heraldry (the special signs of European and American aristocratic guilds, groups, etc. In the 18th century, China sold up to 600,000 kinds of heraldry porcelain to Europe). In addition, characters (out of Greek or Roman fairy tales, the Bible, European customs-based sketches), ships, landscapes, flowers, etc. used to be popular themes among Europeans. Besides, European living habits were taken into consideration in terms of modeling.

   

  

  Unknown, Souceboat, ca. 1740, Porcelain, L: 18,4cm, Victoria and Albert Museum London. Bibliographic Reference: Howard, David Santuary. Chinese Armorial Porcelain. London: Faber and Faber Limited, 1974, p. 295.

   

  Apart from blue and white, multicolored and famille rose ones were among this kind of style. Because of the higher cost, longer period of capital occupation, more complicated procedures and greater commercial risks, this variety did not turn a mainstream among export-purpose Chinese porcelains in spite of their distinctive features. Especially in 1769, the first production line of British Wedgwood Porcelain Plant rolled off, when European porcelain production began to leap from the handicraft era to the industrial era. Since then, importing Chinese porcelains has grown unprofitable, and the porcelains in Chinese style turned gradually out of date.

   

  In the course of trade development for nearly 300 years from the 16^th century to 19^th century, from “Made in China” to “Making Chinese Porcelains”, the Chinese vogue going viral in Europe represented a process of Europeanization of Chinese cultural practices. In this process, lacquerware, woven carpets, clothing, furniture, wallpaper and garden architecture were as well used for reference, quotation and modification in Europe, and finally integrated into the social context of Europe, influencing and even changing the artistic outlook of Europe. Nowadays, the shortened distance and accessible information across the world enable us to see the diversity of cultures more quickly and accurately. More possibilities for cultural exchanges will definitely be springing up in the future.

   

   

  FOOTNOTES

   

  ^[1]              China in the 13^th-19^th centuries was only a Far East country geographically along with India, Southeast Asia, South Korea and Japan

  ^[2]              Due to the limited space, the export-purpose Chinese porcelain in this paper refers specifically to the exported ones to Europe.

  ^[3]              Lin Lin's, Research on Porcelain Trade of Dutch East India Company in the 17^th-18^th Centuries, pp 31-34.

  ^[4]              Its name probably originated from Portugal Caraack, meaning “giant merchant ship”.

   

   

  REFERENCES
  

   

  • WangYong, A History of Art Exchange between China and Abroad, Beijing， 2013
  • Shanggang, A new compilation of the history of Chinese arts and crafts, Higher Education Press , 2007
  • Etiemble, L’Europe Chinoise. The Commercial Press, Beijing, 2013
  • Liwei, Through the silk Road, Beijing, 2018
  • Hugh Honour，Chinoiserie: The vision of Cathay, Peking University Press, 2017

   

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• 

  Ming Zhang

  The importance of the series entitled by "Dream of Dunhuang"

   

  The Dunhuang Dreams series from the 1990s marked the emergence of a new opportunity for meticulous figure painting. After his in-depth study of the Dunhuang murals and his many field trips, Yongli Tang drew inspiration, adhered to the core of traditional painting and incorporated the expressive strengths of Western painting to achieve a bold innovation in artistic expression.

  In the creating of meticulous figure paintings, there are three crucial ingredients, including the use of line, modeling and coloring.

   

  Modeling and Line

   

   

  Fig. 2: Part of painting of hairpin ladies in the Tang Dynasty ,Zhou Fang, active late 8th–early 9th century, Ladies Wearing Flowers in Their Hair, handscroll, ink and color on silk, 46 x 180 cm, Liaoning Provincial Museum, Shenyang province, China - copyright: public domain / Wiki Commons.

  
  Fig.3: Part of Memories Of Childhood, Yongli Tang, 1998, Copyright: the artist.

   

  Line is the most basic language of Chinese painting, and Chinese painting is concerned with the use of frames and calligraphy and focused on the expression of the structure and rhythm of the object's form, instead of the shading and the in-depth of the object. The series of works is mainly presented by the use of line in the traditional painting while the shading and the linear perspective of the sketch is enlighteningly integrated in the form of relief.  The series Dream of Dunhuang innovatively uses linear sketches to portray and shape exaggerated figures, with extreme variations between lines. The spirit of the lines fits the mood created by the picture, while the light and dark faces are integrated to provide a detailed portrayal of the main figure. The juxtaposition of realistic and extracted Dunhuang symbols, modern and ancient figures, temporal and spatial wholeness, and a conceptual form of expression are harmoniously presented in the picture, and the modeling has both traditional cultural roots and modernity.

  Coloration

  Dunhuang murals have undergone thousands of years of natural and man-made changes in color, with some peeling and mutilating. It looks like a rich, deep, ancient palette that allows the viewer to achieve a secondary aesthetic pleasure. Being in the sacred, quiet rock cave, the soul is purified, and the individual remains in the flow of the years, achieving spiritual transcendence.

   

  In order to pursue the sense of history in Dunhuang murals, Yongli Tang used Black and White as the main colors and interspersed with azurite, stone green, earth red and other traditional colors for embellishment. The color of cooked brown was used to present the figures’ skin. The author could not be confined with the realistic object so that he exaggerated color changes to highlight the subjective emotional orientation of the picture.

  In the series of works, virtual dyeing method was innovatively applied to highlight the freehand of the picture.  Dyeing high places or low places could be switched freely according to needs, and dyeing is not limited by the line, which presents a vague sense of void.  In addition to the traditional color setting techniques, for example, flat painting, rendering and over-dyeing, the author developed the method of shedding. The thick painting and shedding methods set off each other. To be more precise, the author piled up degummed white powder on the base color, then chafed and patted, with some of the white powder falling off naturally. The rest was blended with the base color.  The use of large areas of white color does not cause the picture to be chalky. During the painting process the shedding of white color is like the painting of the freehand work. With the controlled brushwork, there are uncontrollable and accidental factors, which gives the mottled and dappled left on the murals by the years. The thickness, light and dark, cold and warm of the white color is presented in an exceptionally subtle way, creating a harmonious and quiet relationship between religious culture and modern beliefs.

  Material Texture

  Stable social and cultural environment made the painting language of meticulous painting was solely and smoothly developed for quite a long time. In the late 1980s, political, economic and cultural changes leaded to the activation of the painting community and the reflection on tradition. New painting materials were triggered a change in creative thinking.

   

  In his artistic practice, Tang Yongli discovered the texture beauty of the materials and used it in the painting process: mineral colors have a sense of luster, strong covering power, and can be repeatedly modified; the watercolor is rich and delicate; the shedding effect of degummed white powder reproduces the oxidation and wind erosion of mural; the layering of these colors gives the picture a sufficient sense of history and ethereal inspiration. Tang Yongli uses this as an opportunity for a new language, to expand and to strengthen it, as well as to form a new language paradigm. The beauty of the material texture becomes part of the creation and an aspect of the work to be tasted. The author chooses colored silk as the bearer, which is tough and can be used in a variety of techniques such as thick painting, shedding and reverse painting, and pigments such as ink, mineral color, lithopone powder and watercolor are used.

   

  Classical meticulous painting can only do addition, not subtraction. The use of these material techniques breaks the border of the painting on silk. It also allows us to add and subtract freely and to change a single direction to a multi-directional expression (i.e., highly realizing self-consciousness).  The expression of the free state of mind, workmanship, painting, color, texture and other factors become a new organism.

  Summary

  The series of Dunhuang Dream presents the interaction of multiple factors, scholarly artistic interrogation and the creation of diffuse imagery, as well as the attribution and transmission of spirit. It opens artistic horizons for the modern development of meticulous painting. The development of Chinese contemporary art has always been to move forward with the review and inheriting of history. They find visual art resources to reinterpret, redevelop and re-create them with a contemporary view, thinking and aesthetics, which will form a dynamic and growing tradition.

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