Changing Lives of Nyeleni

As a Jo initiation figure, my work has assumed many different lives over the course of its history. It stood on its own as a figure before it was mounted on a staff. Once on that staff, it was only one of many different artifacts brought on a symbolic journey. Upon return, it was separated from its staff and became a self-standing object again. Then, it went from being a purely aesthetic, symbolic piece of decoration – meant for one initiate in particular – to being a functional toy for someone completely different. Most of this, of course, is speculation – until I know about the collection history of my particular piece, these details will be difficult to verify. But, as assumed from the lives of other known Jo initiation pieces, this makes the work flexible in function and meaning.

The life of the work began in the hands of a divinely inspired carver. For this carver, the work was a recipient of wisdom from the cosmos, as merely transferred through his own hands. The piece itself was a vessel of wisdom, and it alone was the concern of its maker.

The piece then became the object of social attention, as it is introduced to its intended initiate. It becomes almost a person, a representative of the ideal wife, a potential “girlfriend” for the initiate, and a means of playful teasing and banter. From a sacred object to a conversation piece – like a coffee-table book or a magazine – the transformation of the object’s life and meaning is an important one.

But then the self-defined object becomes part of something larger. It gets attached to a staff, and that staff gets carried with a number of other staffs. Has the severity of its significance been decreased? Or, has it at least suffered the consequences of distraction from other sources? Does it lose its own intrinsic value?

If the answer is yes, it is about to be even further exasperated, as the initiation comes to a close. The figure has done its job; it is now like an empty vessel, a shell, a mere souvenir of an event that once was. The initiate for whom it was intended has no claim over it; instead, it is given to young girls to play with, for no particular purpose, fertility or otherwise. A mere household object, a means of a child’s distraction; the holiness of the object has practically disappeared.

Not only has the work itself evolved in function and meaning, but interpretations of the work have evolved, as well. As Kate Ezra pointed out in the article cited below, figures like this were once considered to be fertility dolls, until that theory was clearly disproved. Later, it was considered to be a depiction of a deceased family member; only later was this interpretation found to be pure speculation. Just as the meaning of the piece itself changed over time, historian’s interpretation of both function and meaning are equally fluid.

To me, this all emphasizes the overly simplistic nature of inarguable definitions and distinctions. Just like our minds, an object’s significance is fluid, as are the interpretations of it. To slap a categorization or a definition onto a piece of artwork with a much more nuanced meaning is neglectful of the true intent and real life of that piece of artwork.

Blog for 10/24

Discuss all the steps the artist needed to fulfill to complete the

work. Who were the likely patrons? What role might they have had in deciding the

form the work assumed.

For this blog post I was fortunate enough to have a book called The Making of Bamana Sculpture, by Sarah C. Brett-Smith at Rutgers University. The book conveniently delineates every step in the process of being a Bamana sculpter, including interactions with the spirits, negotiations in the human world, the economics of the commission, the place, timing, and pacing of the caring, the artist's motivation, his aesthetic objectives, and the process of carving itself. I will attempt to summarize and interpret as many of these categories as I find relevant!

First, to become a sculptor and get commissioned for work:

To become a working sculptor in Bamana culture requires a great deal of work and apprenticeship. A sculptor has a unique power that is not granted lightly. He must learn to control this power, this nyama, or “a potential power to act in the world that is inherently dangerous” (8), once he receives it.

The sculptor must develop a relationship with the spirit world that makes it accessible to him. As it turns out, this "relationship with the spirits feminizes the master sculptor, and... this process has social as well as ritual dimensions" (84).

Once developed, a master sculptor tends to have a specific personality. “Famous sculptors are difficult individuals. They are cantankerous at best, forthright to the point of rudeness, and their generally exceptional intelligence is often directed with venomous intent. They may, in the full flow of speech, stop abruptly, stare off into space, and simply walk away if their spirit calls.” (48)

Even then, individuals or communities in need of a sculptor's service have different artists to choose from, and "criteria for choosing a carver reveal striking similarities to those employed in evaluating women for marriage… clients assess the artist as though he were to become the ‘mother’ of the ritual object they are seeking.” (84)

Second, to negotiate with the client:

Artwork can be commissioned on behalf of an individual, or on behalf of an entire community. If on behalf of a community, the commissioner will be what is called a KOGLKJ. If on behalf of an individual, the commissioner will simply be a "cekun," a "leader of men, an important person."

"Komo masks and other communally owned objects have clear public functions, but… small human figures are usually commissioned by individuals," the book clarifies (100). Therefore, my piece was likely commissioned by a cekun.

Once the cekun chooses the artists, they must agree on the terms. Most often, the sculptor chooses not to inquire into the functional purpose of the piece. The artist distances himself from the client’s goals, maintaining a “know-nothing” policy. “This attitude of nonjudgmental comprehension enables the sculptor to listen to his clients’ ritual and psychic needs with acute attention" (101).

The details of the piece itself must be negotiated. Often, the "Bamana client often makes specific visual requests: the horns of their Komo mask must be longer than those of village x, the old mask had too many teeth, or the human figure bust be a likeness of the client’s grandfather" (101). But, when it comes down to it, the artist has the final say; the commissioner, in reality, has very little role in deciding the form of the work:

"When the emissary or client approaches the sculptor, he will mention these specifications, and the aesthetic dialogue that results is an accepted part of the commission process, for the artist does not wish to carve an object that will diminish his reputation. Sculptors acknowledge that they have a responsibility to fulfill their clientele’s visual expectation… however, they also direct their more obtuse clients." (101)

Third, to determine the payment:

It is important to note that “what we term ‘payments’ for ritual carvings are still largely viewed as ‘gifts’ or laada by the Bamana” (107). The commissioner must pay the artist in three installments, all with different intentions: “subsistence for both the sculptor and his extended family for the duration of the commission [usually grain, a sheep or goat, and payment of ongoing expenses], ritual offerings made during the course of the sculpture’s execution, and the exchange of cattle, other livestock, and/or slaves for the finished object” (107)

Fourth, to divine the details of the piece:

Determining the image of the piece involves "prolonged attempts to obtain visionary images through a spirit familiar" (179). The visual phenomena that they experience in these attempts are signs form another world, so when recreated, “their importance does not like in their appearance, but in their function as an abstract code that enables the artist to communicate with the invisible” (179).

Often to “harness the inspiration that comes from the alternate world,” the artist must “protect himself by ingesting special drugs, aim for a visual equilibrium that does not threaten traditional assumptions, and develop his visual memory so that he can recall the exact features of a mask he ahs only seen preifly by night. Finally, he must maintain a sexual abstinence that assures his purity when at last he picks up his adze" (179).

Therefore, despite the important role of the commissioner, deciding the form of the artwork lies far from the commissioner; in fact, it lies beyond the artist himself and in the world of the divine.

MIDTERM: Tradition in Dogon, Benin, Igbo, and Yoruba Pieces

I have chosen these four objects because I believe they provide ample exhibition of their cultures' traditions and are therefore a fine platform for analysis. "Tradition" I am here defining according to Miriam Webster: "an inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought, action, or behavior."

IGBO JANUS MASK

This mask exemplifies Igbo tradition in both behavior and thought, and, specifically, the intersection of the two. As we learned, the Janus mask exists on the upper level of masking association and is associated with special powers of protection, as the two faces and four eyes can see all sides of the world (not only front and back but also earthly and spiritual); this inherited world view is nothing if not tradition. The contrast in colors suggest a balance, and the elaborate decoration of the coiffures display an attention to detail that connotes the importance of the tool.

But an important and more subtle point may be the Uli markings on the faces of the masks. This body painting is a behavioral tradition that sometimes – but not always – is rooted in belief, playing two parts of the definition of “tradition” interestingly against one another.

DOGON KANAGA MASK

The Kanaga mask of the Dogon is used for a specific traditional function: the climax of the Dama celebration. It represents a traditional belief system and a specfic yet evolving ceremony; similarly, Kanaga masks that we have seen tended to be similar, with slight variation. This one in particular exemplifies traditional associations of white and black: as we learned, white is often associated with the world of the ancestors, and black is often associated with the unknown. Therefore, the colors of this mask are fitting with the traditional behaviors and beliefs surrounding death.

The animal here represented is far from realist, but as we discussed, could be a crocodile, which is believed to aid in the river crossing into the afterlife. It is clearly an animal not only from the positioning of its legs, but also from more subtle features: for example, the shape of the eyes as triangles would never occur in a human, and the angular pattern on the back is also in distinct contrast to decorative or symbolic facial markings.

Tradition, therefore, here takes on the form of spiritual symbolism in visual representation.

BENIN PLAQUE

This plaque’s significance with regards to tradition is particularly interesting, because it provides an explanation not only of religious tradition, but of political tradition, as well. As The Royal Arts of Africa explains, the plaque depicts a palace altar, one dedicated to King Ewuare. But the plaque is not merely political; the religious symbolism is clear. The tower in the center resembles a python, which is traditionally associated with the god Olokun, of wealth and the sea. The tradition therefore of using the power of religion to bless a political figure is embodied in a piece of art place in a jointly religious and political location.

The interaction of religious and political tradition is revealed in the book’s explanation that pythons are also associated with the god of lightning, and that “thunderstones” are also present in the image – significant because Ewuare “is credited with using a powerful medicine to break the ‘thunderstones’ into tiny pieces” (Blier 60). The tradition, therefore, of assigning divinity to kings is embodied in this artwork.

Here we can also see modes of traditional dress. The four figures, presumably priests, sport robes, facial markings, and head dressings. The shapes of the eyes and noses are characteristically Benin, making the piece clearly identifiable according to cultural tradition.

YORUBA VESSEL

This piece is interesting because, at first glance, it might appear to be more practically than ritualistically functional, when compared to the pieces above. But with careful attention to the form of it, it becomes clear that this is not merely just a container. As the book explains, this was an important tool in the Ifa divinations. These divinations at first may seem comparable to the divination associated with Glele that we read about in our week on Dahomey, but instead of determining an answer (such as to the question of which animal to associate a king with), this in particular seems more sacrificial or healing-related in nature. Therefore, a female figure kneels to the guards, with an elaborate coiffure and telltale facial markings, demonstrating the important ritualistic nature of the tradition.

One element of the piece that sparks curiosity is the texturization of the lid. The patterned indentations and their arrangements in rows may suggest something about time, and the number of rows may be significant – but it is difficult to tell.

This point is an interesting one to leave on, as it reminds us of the difficulties in gleaming the details of tradition – behavioral, religious, or otherwise – from art and art alone. As we discussed in our very first class, a lack written records from this region leave us with many questions regarding tradition. But the aesthetic and thematic value of the art itself, while dangerous to conflate into immutable definitions of tradition, certainly hold their own value in our understanding of it.

What role do religion, psychology and socio-political identity play in your work?

my figure

The context of my piece provides a great deal of insight into the religion, psychology, and socio-politics of the Bamana. As Kate Ezra said in A Human Ideal in African Art: Bamana Figurative Sculpture:

“More so than masks that tell us about the Bamana world view through the symbolic language of their constituent materials and animal imagery, the figures provide more direct insight into Bamana ideas concerning people and their lives. By portraying men and women with particular features, attributes, and gestures, they illustrate Bamana concepts of beauty and ideals of character and action. Bamana figurative sculptures show people how to look, how to behave towards each other, and what goals to strive for…. The figures are unique in that they do this directly, with tangible, visible forms, and in public contexts that are accessible to all members of the community." (Ezra 1986)

As far as religion goes, it has been posed that my figure could have been used in association with either fertility or the ancestors. Fertility is more likely, as my figure is wooden, and it appears that mostly iron sculptures are used in ancestral rituals. Historian Kjersmeier once postulated that the figure could have been given to young girls to dance with, to ensure that they would be able to bear children upon developing.

But evidence for this is scarce, as the account of the dance “does not correspond to any other accounts of Bamana rituals concerning human fertility, which usually involve women of childbearing ways” (Ezra 1986). Another option for my figure is that it could be a depiction of a deceased family member, particularly a twin. Still, “past generalizations concerning the contexts of Bamana figure sculpture are misleading,” says Ezra. She proposed that my figure could have been mounted on a staff that was used in healing ritual; after the healing, the figure would b broken off the shaft, and young girls would keep it as a toy.

Because my figure is a nyeleni, the most likely option is that my figure could be associated with a Bamana society called the Jo society. This association has strong socio-political significance. Upon initiation, its members would be taken on a certain retreat, and while returning home, the society would use sculpture in dances for the initiate.

Psychologically, this has huge significance, particularly sexually, as Ezra describes:

“That nyeleni figures are identified with sexually appealing unmarried women is evident in the jokes made about the figures. For example, when the initiates arrive in a village in which they are to perform, thet give their statue to the head of the young men there. They tease him, saying that the statue is his girlfriend, and that he can spend the night with her if he gives them money. Later, after… Jo initiation, the statue is referred to as a “widow”. It is stripped of its finery and put away for the next group of initiates seven years later."

Other nyeleni figures, used in Jo initations.

Hence, the religious, psychological, and socio-political implication of my piece are large.

While I am relatively certain that my figure is a nyeleni used in Jo initiation, there are other possibilities, as Ezra says: “Similar forms also characterize Bamana figures used in contexts other than Joe including puppets that are meant to portray seductive female characters.” One example is the following figure:

This is a nyeleni that was not used in a Jo initiation, but rather

as a simply a portrayal of a seductive female character.

Alternatively, it could be another type of figure used to initiate Jo women: the sonkalani (for specific initiates called Boso).

a sonkalani sculpture -- an alternative to nyeleni,

used in Jo initiation of the Boso.

This, however, is unlikely, because sonkalani look much less like independently-standing figures, are often more elaborately decorated, and have less emphasis on facial features.

For 10/3

How does the original context or use inform our understanding of its symbolism?

My figure is a nyeleni, a form used by the Jo as a “representation of the physical qualities desired in young, marriageable women” (van Damme 2000). Its use, therefore, what not only aesthetic, but also educational, showing both young boys what they should be looking for in a marriage, and showing young girls what they should strive to look like. The concept of the figure as a type of idealized shrine explains the abstractness, the natural impossibilities of the body, and the absent level of realism.

In what ways do features of your work add to our understanding of its meaning?

The aspects of the female form that the Jo appear to value are “projecting breasts jutting buttocks, and slim waists… the elongated, pole-like middle part of the torso,” and others (van Damme 2000). Because this is something of a symbol and a teaching tool, everything is therefore exaggerated; this helps our understanding to be more comprehensive, because nothing is subtle, and very little is left to the imagination.

How does the local meaning(s) differ from its later colonial and post-colonial meanings?

If this figure were used as a teaching tool to young girls today, it would be highly criticized and extremely controversial. At the same time, however, modern magazine covers and fashion shows promote a remarkably similar body image, with the exception of large hands and feet and a conical navel. Therefore, the local meaning and post-colonial meanings of this figure are, interestingly enough, not extremely different.

List c.5 questions that you would like to have asked the artist, patron, or user.

--Where would this figure be kept?

--How many would be in an average home?

--When would it be used as a teaching tool? In what contexts? Who does the teaching – parents or teachers?

--Who would make them? Was it a ceremonial process?

--What determines the thickness of certain appendages – legs, arms, neck? What determines the style of the coiffure? Is it preferential or thematically significant?

New Sources:

http://www.jstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/stable/pdfplus/3821074.pdf

African Verbal Arts and the Study of African Visual Aesthetics

http://www.jstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/stable/pdfplus/1506006.pdf

Blooms

http://www.jstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/stable/pdfplus/3336610.pdf

Sculpture

http://www.jstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/stable/pdfplus/3336576.pdf

Human Ideal