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Igbo "Beautiful Maiden" Masks
- By Monroe, John
- Published 21 March 2008
- Primitive and Pre-Columbian Art
- Unrated
Monroe, John
John Monroe, assistant professor of history at College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at Iowa State University.
View all articles by Monroe, John
III. A Third Example
At this point, I should note that for many collectors of African art, signs of use can be a crucial part of the esthetic whole a particular sculpture presents, and therefore add considerably to its value. In some fields of collecting - baseball cards, say - the only valuable pieces are those in "mint condition." An African sculpture in "mint condition," on the other hand, is worth much less than a well-used piece. In part, this comes from the role sculpture tends to play in African cultures. Generally, in Africa, the category of "art object" as we know it doesn't exist, or only began existing recently. Traditional objects tended to be made (and still tend to be made, in many cases) to serve a particular purpose, whether magical, utilitarian, or as props in a larger spectacle that integrates sculpture with music, dance, and drama (like the Mmwo masks I'm talking about here). The best-loved objects, which also tend to be the most beautiful, are the ones that show signs of having been used.
Signs of use add another dimension as well, one that's a product of non-African perception. As the pioneering African art dealer Paul Guillaume noticed early in the last century, signs of rubbing, encrustation, abrasion and so on create surface textures - patinas - that are very rich and subtle. A nice patina, like the one on the face of the second mask above, adds a great deal to an African sculpture's esthetic presence. When African objects first started being collected in Europe, this patina was seen as "dirt" and removed; thanks to the efforts of connoisseurs like Guillaume, sensibilities changed. For me as a collector today, the sheer beauty and uniqueness of the surfaces of African objects is one of their major attractions.
In the time since we found our second Mmwo mask, my wife and I have continued collecting, and have gathered together a number of other examples.
One is a much newer piece, collected by a Peace Corps volunteer in the late 1960s. It is also "authentic" but makes a very different impact from the last piece I discussed. Many collectors, in fact, would be turned off by its flamboyance.
Here, as you can see, the surface is painted with European enamel and the crest is made of papier mâché over bent coathangers. The carver has decided to add flash by using crocheted doilies in bright colors, along with an array of trade goods, including metallic Christmas tinsel, lampshade fringe, filmy blue nylon, and a mirror framed in chartreuse plastic. While some collectors might find this mask inferior because it seems less "purely African," I appreciate the sheer exuberance with which it appropriates and transforms an array of items non-Africans might write off as "gaudy" or "cheap." The combination of elements shouldn't work, but somehow, in my opinion, it forms a surprisingly harmonious whole, one that remains clearly identifiable as Igbo even with all the novel ingredients from far-off places.
Because of the way the mask is made, signs of use are more difficult to identify on this piece. The papier mâché elements attached to the mask are so fragile that they probably would have disintegrated if left a long time in the humid conditions of southern Nigeria. The carved face and wire superstructure, on the other hand, appears to have been used multiple times - the face has at least three layers of white paint beneath the one currently visible, and the wire is either tarnished or wound in layers of weathered cloth. The carved portion of the mask shows little wear on the interior, because it seems to have been designed to sit on top of the wearer's head like a cap. In this case, a dancer's face would be covered by the translucent nylon, rather than the mask itself. Head-crest masks of this kind are fairly common among the Igbo.
This mask, then, in addition to being a favorite of mine, also gets us back to the broader question of "authenticity" that began this essay. It shows clear signs of tribal use, but even so would leave a large number of collectors and dealers cold. The African art most highly valued in the marketplace is generally the art that seems to have come from a world that pre-dates European contact. Older pieces are more highly sought-after, and often strike non-African observers as being somehow "purer" than newer ones. In my opinion, however, creative intelligence is in fact a far more resilient thing - it can show up in all sorts of unexpected places. The challenge is to recognize it, and that is a matter of learning to speak another culture's language of beauty.
IV. Sources of Further Information
Finally, here are two suggested references:
Aniakor, Chike and Herbert Cole. Igbo Arts: Community and Cosmos (University of California Press, 1984).
An excellent website compiling photographs taken by the colonial administrator G.I. Jones, who was also an early scholar of Igbo arts: See >>
At this point, I should note that for many collectors of African art, signs of use can be a crucial part of the esthetic whole a particular sculpture presents, and therefore add considerably to its value. In some fields of collecting - baseball cards, say - the only valuable pieces are those in "mint condition." An African sculpture in "mint condition," on the other hand, is worth much less than a well-used piece. In part, this comes from the role sculpture tends to play in African cultures. Generally, in Africa, the category of "art object" as we know it doesn't exist, or only began existing recently. Traditional objects tended to be made (and still tend to be made, in many cases) to serve a particular purpose, whether magical, utilitarian, or as props in a larger spectacle that integrates sculpture with music, dance, and drama (like the Mmwo masks I'm talking about here). The best-loved objects, which also tend to be the most beautiful, are the ones that show signs of having been used.
Signs of use add another dimension as well, one that's a product of non-African perception. As the pioneering African art dealer Paul Guillaume noticed early in the last century, signs of rubbing, encrustation, abrasion and so on create surface textures - patinas - that are very rich and subtle. A nice patina, like the one on the face of the second mask above, adds a great deal to an African sculpture's esthetic presence. When African objects first started being collected in Europe, this patina was seen as "dirt" and removed; thanks to the efforts of connoisseurs like Guillaume, sensibilities changed. For me as a collector today, the sheer beauty and uniqueness of the surfaces of African objects is one of their major attractions.
In the time since we found our second Mmwo mask, my wife and I have continued collecting, and have gathered together a number of other examples.
One is a much newer piece, collected by a Peace Corps volunteer in the late 1960s. It is also "authentic" but makes a very different impact from the last piece I discussed. Many collectors, in fact, would be turned off by its flamboyance.
Here, as you can see, the surface is painted with European enamel and the crest is made of papier mâché over bent coathangers. The carver has decided to add flash by using crocheted doilies in bright colors, along with an array of trade goods, including metallic Christmas tinsel, lampshade fringe, filmy blue nylon, and a mirror framed in chartreuse plastic. While some collectors might find this mask inferior because it seems less "purely African," I appreciate the sheer exuberance with which it appropriates and transforms an array of items non-Africans might write off as "gaudy" or "cheap." The combination of elements shouldn't work, but somehow, in my opinion, it forms a surprisingly harmonious whole, one that remains clearly identifiable as Igbo even with all the novel ingredients from far-off places.
Because of the way the mask is made, signs of use are more difficult to identify on this piece. The papier mâché elements attached to the mask are so fragile that they probably would have disintegrated if left a long time in the humid conditions of southern Nigeria. The carved face and wire superstructure, on the other hand, appears to have been used multiple times - the face has at least three layers of white paint beneath the one currently visible, and the wire is either tarnished or wound in layers of weathered cloth. The carved portion of the mask shows little wear on the interior, because it seems to have been designed to sit on top of the wearer's head like a cap. In this case, a dancer's face would be covered by the translucent nylon, rather than the mask itself. Head-crest masks of this kind are fairly common among the Igbo.
This mask, then, in addition to being a favorite of mine, also gets us back to the broader question of "authenticity" that began this essay. It shows clear signs of tribal use, but even so would leave a large number of collectors and dealers cold. The African art most highly valued in the marketplace is generally the art that seems to have come from a world that pre-dates European contact. Older pieces are more highly sought-after, and often strike non-African observers as being somehow "purer" than newer ones. In my opinion, however, creative intelligence is in fact a far more resilient thing - it can show up in all sorts of unexpected places. The challenge is to recognize it, and that is a matter of learning to speak another culture's language of beauty.
IV. Sources of Further Information
Finally, here are two suggested references:
Aniakor, Chike and Herbert Cole. Igbo Arts: Community and Cosmos (University of California Press, 1984).
An excellent website compiling photographs taken by the colonial administrator G.I. Jones, who was also an early scholar of Igbo arts: See >>
© John
Monroe
With the permission of Tribal Art Forum