thoroughly modern tribal: african art is big these days
David A. Keeps, in an article in the LA Times on November 4, 2004, writes that "in Palm Springs and Los Angeles, as with other cities caught in the grip of midcentury madness, the arts and crafts of Africa are experiencing a revival as home décor. The work resonates with the spirit of Modernism: the reduction and abstraction of shapes in which form follows function. The primitive wood carving and metalsmithing from Africa exudes a sculptural purity of form that adds drama and a sense of history to 20th century architecture."
Popular as trophies from safaris in the 1920s, a home décor fad in the beatnik 1950s, and an expression of black-is-beautiful cultural pride in the 1970s, African ritual and domestic objects cast a different spell on today's designers. In the cover story of the November-December issue of Metropolitan Home, Arthur Dunnam's design for a Park Avenue apartment integrates tribal masks with Art Deco and French furniture, including a contemporary table wrapped in rope by the Parisian designer Christian Astuguevieille, whose work, Dunnam says, "is very much influenced by African art."
"From the 1920s onward, when you look at photos of the chic interiors of sophisticated travelers, you will see African artifacts," Dunnam says. "Though the look is certainly becoming more commonplace, I don't consider it a trend. It has always been an iconographic part of cosmopolitan 20th century design because people with an appreciation for modern art and a sense of style tend to have African art among their personal possessions."
Decorators who have ripped their way through continental European, Middle and Far Eastern inspirations are also looking at African furniture and tapestries as a visual counterpoint. At the 20th century furniture gallery Pegaso International on La Cienega Boulevard, beaded bride and groom headdresses adorned with birds perch on Italian tables. The juxtaposition works not only with streamlined minimalism but also with embellished period styles.
The latter is a mix that defines the Los Angeles home of actress Alfre Woodard, who has collected East African artifacts and contemporary South African art for two decades. "The things that I am most attracted to," she adds, "are those in which you can feel the presence of the artists who created or the people who owned them."
Ever since the first shields, masks, tools and textiles made their way from colonized African nations to the museums of European capitals in the early 1900s, these objects have helped redefine figurative art and graphic design. Picasso's 1907 masterwork "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" twists the human face into a replica of an African mask, and the seemingly random squiggles found on ancient Kuba cloth from the Congo are instantly recognizable in the later paper cuts of Henri Matisse and the post-Pop work of Keith Haring.
"Slowly but surely, everything in Africa is changing," says Lee Lacy, the director of the Lacy Primitive and Fine Art in Los Angeles. "Young people are moving to the cities, and as tribal traditions disappear, the art ceases to exist." For that reason, he adds, pieces made for actual use instead of for the tourist trade are more valuable.
Because most of the craftsmen are anonymous, the more precisely a piece can be traced to a particular region and tribal craftsman, the more it is worth. At Sotheby's May auction of African, Oceanic and pre-Columbian art, an early 20th century wooden bowl attributed to a Yoruba tribesman known as "Olowe of Ise" sold for $534,400.
"Collectors are intrigued by African art for what it represents culturally and historically as much as they are attracted to its aesthetic simplicity of form," says Jean Fritts, Sotheby's worldwide director of African and Oceanic art.
The African art now being collected also includes contemporary sculpture and painting created for its own sake. Africa's fine art explosion, Wolfe says, "is just the bomb right now. For the first time, Africans have the economic and political freedom to express themselves without having to be sign painters."
Yet in the early '90s, Wolfe began amassing a collection of commercial signboards and figurative paintings on grain sacks used to advertise movies. These paintings are as integral a part of Wolfe's home life as the African antiques that fill his loftlike gallery and home at Sawtelle and Santa Monica boulevards.
Another collector and exhibitor says, "When I walk through our house, I can feel the power of these pieces and what they represent," he says. "Their spirit takes me out of the cellphone world to a plane on which everything in life was connected."
Not all the stories are happy, though. Under the light of a floor lamp that sprouts tentacles, a flea-market console serves as a small altar for 13 gleaming reliquaries from the Kota tribe of Gabon in the living room of one collector. Resembling small Cubist statues, these brass- and copper-covered funeral effigies of dead tribesmen hold bundles filled with bone fragments of the deceased.
The 13 "guests," as their owner refers to them, began arriving after he saw a 2003 exhibition of reliquaries in Paris. They are a bittersweet prize, reminders that war, genocide, famine and AIDS have brought many African artifacts to the market. "They are the most personal family objects that exist," says Weis. "And the fact that they are being sold for food and medicine is heartbreaking."
As a result, Weis and Lazzaro consider themselves merely custodians of the funerary artifacts. "It might sound a bit wacko," Weis admits, "but when they arrive, we light incense and have a ceremony, welcoming them into our home."
--> Check out my own Ugandan art page!
Popular as trophies from safaris in the 1920s, a home décor fad in the beatnik 1950s, and an expression of black-is-beautiful cultural pride in the 1970s, African ritual and domestic objects cast a different spell on today's designers. In the cover story of the November-December issue of Metropolitan Home, Arthur Dunnam's design for a Park Avenue apartment integrates tribal masks with Art Deco and French furniture, including a contemporary table wrapped in rope by the Parisian designer Christian Astuguevieille, whose work, Dunnam says, "is very much influenced by African art."
"From the 1920s onward, when you look at photos of the chic interiors of sophisticated travelers, you will see African artifacts," Dunnam says. "Though the look is certainly becoming more commonplace, I don't consider it a trend. It has always been an iconographic part of cosmopolitan 20th century design because people with an appreciation for modern art and a sense of style tend to have African art among their personal possessions."
Decorators who have ripped their way through continental European, Middle and Far Eastern inspirations are also looking at African furniture and tapestries as a visual counterpoint. At the 20th century furniture gallery Pegaso International on La Cienega Boulevard, beaded bride and groom headdresses adorned with birds perch on Italian tables. The juxtaposition works not only with streamlined minimalism but also with embellished period styles.
The latter is a mix that defines the Los Angeles home of actress Alfre Woodard, who has collected East African artifacts and contemporary South African art for two decades. "The things that I am most attracted to," she adds, "are those in which you can feel the presence of the artists who created or the people who owned them."
Ever since the first shields, masks, tools and textiles made their way from colonized African nations to the museums of European capitals in the early 1900s, these objects have helped redefine figurative art and graphic design. Picasso's 1907 masterwork "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" twists the human face into a replica of an African mask, and the seemingly random squiggles found on ancient Kuba cloth from the Congo are instantly recognizable in the later paper cuts of Henri Matisse and the post-Pop work of Keith Haring.
"Slowly but surely, everything in Africa is changing," says Lee Lacy, the director of the Lacy Primitive and Fine Art in Los Angeles. "Young people are moving to the cities, and as tribal traditions disappear, the art ceases to exist." For that reason, he adds, pieces made for actual use instead of for the tourist trade are more valuable.
Because most of the craftsmen are anonymous, the more precisely a piece can be traced to a particular region and tribal craftsman, the more it is worth. At Sotheby's May auction of African, Oceanic and pre-Columbian art, an early 20th century wooden bowl attributed to a Yoruba tribesman known as "Olowe of Ise" sold for $534,400.
"Collectors are intrigued by African art for what it represents culturally and historically as much as they are attracted to its aesthetic simplicity of form," says Jean Fritts, Sotheby's worldwide director of African and Oceanic art.
The African art now being collected also includes contemporary sculpture and painting created for its own sake. Africa's fine art explosion, Wolfe says, "is just the bomb right now. For the first time, Africans have the economic and political freedom to express themselves without having to be sign painters."
Yet in the early '90s, Wolfe began amassing a collection of commercial signboards and figurative paintings on grain sacks used to advertise movies. These paintings are as integral a part of Wolfe's home life as the African antiques that fill his loftlike gallery and home at Sawtelle and Santa Monica boulevards.
Another collector and exhibitor says, "When I walk through our house, I can feel the power of these pieces and what they represent," he says. "Their spirit takes me out of the cellphone world to a plane on which everything in life was connected."
Not all the stories are happy, though. Under the light of a floor lamp that sprouts tentacles, a flea-market console serves as a small altar for 13 gleaming reliquaries from the Kota tribe of Gabon in the living room of one collector. Resembling small Cubist statues, these brass- and copper-covered funeral effigies of dead tribesmen hold bundles filled with bone fragments of the deceased.
The 13 "guests," as their owner refers to them, began arriving after he saw a 2003 exhibition of reliquaries in Paris. They are a bittersweet prize, reminders that war, genocide, famine and AIDS have brought many African artifacts to the market. "They are the most personal family objects that exist," says Weis. "And the fact that they are being sold for food and medicine is heartbreaking."
As a result, Weis and Lazzaro consider themselves merely custodians of the funerary artifacts. "It might sound a bit wacko," Weis admits, "but when they arrive, we light incense and have a ceremony, welcoming them into our home."
--> Check out my own Ugandan art page!
posted by john at
01:48
