Tradition as Innovation in African Art
Through November 2, 2008
Ahmanson Building, Plaza Level
LACMA
The “Tradition as Innovation in African Art†exhibit currently displayed at LACMA seems to be an exercise in re-appropriation. With “avant garde†being a reference to the numerous artists and works of the Modernist period influenced visually by African work, one would expect to have the show dedicated to snatching back its pieces in order to debase any Picasso figure with horizontally slit eyes. Instead, it reveals to the viewer how the objects featured—mostly West African works from the 19th century and some from the 20th, the most recent having been created by Kenyan artist, Magdalene Odano, in 1995—have practical as well as profound reasons for being created and used. As a result it pushes the boundaries of expectations we have in understanding how art can be utilized through its visual devices.
A jarring example of this is a water spirit mask created by the Ijo peoples of the Niger Delta Region in Nigeria during the 19th century. Perhaps to an American viewer, the piece is a nightmarish phantasm, poised and ready to attack. It is only through LACMA’s explanation that we learn how the mask is the Ijo’s referent for water spirits, energies which are “beautiful, playful and beneficent being[s]†that “bestow children, money and success for those who pay them respect.†It’s sad that we miss out on seeing it being put to its original use via ceremonial dance. Nonetheless, it and its caption imparts that there is much more lying behind the surface. As a side, part of this demystification might have to do with the fact that African masks do more to (negatively) affect America’s imagination about Africa than any other type of that continent’s artwork. Just ask anyone who went on Disneyland’s Jungle Cruise ride as a kid or saw a trailer for The Endless Summer (1966).
While there are other masks on display, what’s more striking is how practical objects are imbued with tremendous creativity. An arresting example is an anthropomorphic harp made during the late 19th to early 20th century by the Zande peoples of the Democratic Republic of Congo. It has stout, manly legs which serve as the base of a torso which becomes the body of a musical 
instrument. The character’s stomach is flat with two holes, one near the chest, the other near the navel, with five smaller holes making a vertical row for strings. The neck is very long, stretched and extending out at an angle of about thirty degrees. Appropriately, it serves as instrument’s neck with a tiny head at its end, looking down at its corporeal features. Made of wood, hide, string, metal wire and resin, it is is a little too anthropomorphic for some viewers (several visitors couldn’t stop making remarks on the penis). But as a tool and an instrument, the entire harp itself provides a connection to the player’s own form and is useful as an “ancestral messenger to the gods†when it is being “played to accompanying ballads.†Form and function combine for practical utilization in this ingenious masterpiece.
A skirt was especially inspiring. Unfurled and laid out like a tapestry, this piece of clothing was made by the Zande peoples of the Democratic Republic of Congo during the late 19th-early 20th century. It has thick yellow lines that lead into directions which are both pleasing and confusing. Sometimes serpentine, other
times just barely forming a swastika, the shapes and colors seem to intentionally disrupt any evenness. With stylistic likenesses of Dadaism and Cubism, but without those movements’ frank disregard for their former traditions, the skirt is said to have used its “[…] asymmetrical designs†as “strategies used to conceal the skirt’s esoteric meanings from men.†A piece of ceremonial clothing that is done in a secret code for only women’s knowledge and appreciation? That’s tough—and awesome.
It’s going to take a while, and a few more leaps of imagination, before “ethnic†art becomes Art. But with LACMA setting up its first permanent African gallery space, right at the entrance of its Ahmanson building, Los Angeles’ art communities’ own boundaries are being pushed in the spirit of are, a Yoruban word which “[…] means itinerantâ€. Instead of disparaging, the term is “bestowed on an artist who ‘travels beyond his own boundaries and surpasses the familiar.†And you would be wise to do the same by paying “Tradition as Innovation†a visit.
all images courtesy of LACMA
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