This summer I had the good fortune to be asked to write an essay on the photographic work of Nigerian photographer George Osodi .As a result I found myself esconced in the Metropolitan Museum Watson Library doing research and struggling over each word of each sentence! This was not to be a blog post but something more substantial and so the pressure was on!

Researching portraiture I found out that an exhibition on West African photographic portraiture was scheduled at the Met in early fall. So here I was yesterday off to the Met in search of this exhibition and another exhibition of South African Jo Ractliffe’s photographs. With the extraordinary exhibition on the Kong It seemed that it was Africa month at the Metropolitan Museum. While there were plenty of panels directing one to the wonderful Kongo: Power and Majesty exhibit, unfortunately there was almost no indication for the two photographic shows which had been tucked away on the mezzanine level off to the side of the modern and contemporary galleries. Not located next to each other, one could see one exhibit without even knowing that there was another one nearby. That was unfortunate.

The exhibition In and Out of the Studio: Photographic Portraits from West Africa though too modest in size considering that photographic portraiture was an established genre during the one hundred year period examined here included some true gems. The eighty photographs were drawn in most part from the Metropolitan Museum’s Visual Resource Archives with additions from the Department of Photographs.

The photographic material was mostly of small scale and included some wonderful postcards from the late Nineteenth century. At the time patrons would have themselves photographed professionally according to their wishes. Often they favored a formal portrait and these postcards would be exchanged as gifts and more often than not circulated beyond their circle of friends to end up in the collections of colonial collectors.

Amateur photography was practiced and there are some exquisite candid shots taking during leisure time from the early 20^th century of people from Saint –Louis, Senegal, evolving in a familial setting.

There are early photos, the size of a postcard, from Malick Sidibe, which are framed in decoratively painted cardboard. Works by Oumar Ka, Seydou Keita, J.D.Okhai Ojeikere and Samuel Fosso complete this small selection, which includes mostly early works of these artists who went on to shape a unique West African style of portrait photography.

The Aftermath of Conflict: Jo Ractliffe’s Photographs of Angola and South Africa was a very sobering exhibition. Mostly through photographic landscapes Ractliffe focuses on the aftermath of the Border War between Angola and South Africa (1966-89) and the Angolan Civil War (1975-2002) ,which ended up by being a proxy war between the US and the Soviet Union. By addressing themes of displacement, conflict, history, memory and erasure she sheds a stark light on the lasting effects of these conflicts on the local population and war veterans. . Her idea of landscape goes against the ubiquitous idea of the romantic African landscape rich in color, tone and texture. In other words her landscapes are not at all like the shots that I like to take as I walk the bush in Kenya where I favor deep vistas, and dramatic perspectives! Only using black and white film, in a very deliberate fashion she avoids dramatic perspectives, anything sensational and even shies away at times from being explicit as to what is the main point of interest in the landscape. She favors bleached out empty landscapes, with little tonal contrast. In no way does she attempt to seduce the viewer or allow any flight of fancy to creep up in our minds except for a pervasive sense of silence and emptiness.

A beach scene with the wreck of a Chinese ship in the background, shanty huts perched on the side of a hill littered with garbage, a close up of a thorn tree covered with drying laundry, a barren desert with objects perched on a stone outcrop give scant information as to the significance of the scenes.

The pole protruding from this outcrop carries a banner that marks the place as a memorial, of what? One is not sure. However this location is close to a Cuban base at Namibe I on Angola’s southwestern coast where an extensive network of trenches , bunkers, and antiaircraft defense are located.

A grass field that seems empty except for a sign saying “Terreno Ocupado” establishes the historical context of Angola with its long history of occupation and turmoil.

Conflicts that seemed abstract when she was growing up become subtly concrete as she reminds us of the many lives impacted by these wars. By making us feel their absence they become alive.

‘There are some very poignant things in the landscape, like these markers, that seem to say, “I have been here, people have been here.” ’ says Jo Ractliffe. Leaving the exhibition I found myself walking with a heavier heart.

With all the war news coming from Mali I thought it was timely to remember that Mali had a very active cultural scene. Last time I went which was for the Bamako Photography Biennale in 2011 I visitsd the studio of Abdoulaye Konate, a well- established artist in Mali whose works have been shown extensively internationally. I have to say there is nothing better than going to visit an artist in his own environment.

I was part of a small group of women mostly curators from the US, most of whom knew his work. I did not, so it was all a discovery. Born in Diré, Mali, he obtained his diploma from the National Institute of Art in Bamako and from the Higher Institute of Art of Havana, Cuba. Trained as a painter, he eventually turned away from paint to working solely with textiles and making very large-scale works. Paints were hard to find and Mali had its own traditional techniques that Konaté found rich in expressive potential. He uses textiles, gris-gris, found objects and makes powerful sociopolitical statements in his huge cloth panels.

We climbed up to the second floor of his house to his studio where we were welcomed by a couple of his assistants. Against the back wall was hanging a diptych: “Croix de Sang”, “Croix de Lumiere” 2010.The panels are made out of stitched thin strips of colored cloths layered on top of each other and carefully arranged in a gradation from black to white with strips of contrasting color bursting through arranged in the shape of a cross. The effect was dramatic and achieved great optical effect.    Konaté sees color in black and indeed the depth of these panels, which appear at once austere and rich attest to his approach. There is something Rothko like about these works in terms of depth of color, and spiritual meaning. Using the same layering and gradation technique he turns to more vibrant colors like blue, here the symbol for the Touaregs in the North. These works are his most recent works and draw on the striking plumage of the guinea fowl. These birds appear in Malian tales, legends, theater and literature.

Konate runs a studio and his assistants are the ones who stitch each strip to the backdrop cloth panel. They unrolled for us to see a panel still in the process of being made. It revealed the construction method. Long horizontal lines were drawn working as guidelines for the layering of the strips.

Konate’s panels are bold visually, most of the time abstract though at times he will include figures, which are flattened, abstracted.  He will also include gris-gris, which are amulets that are used for protection against evil. When used extensively these huge white drops made out of cloth create a sculptural effect. Konaté addresses important socio political themes in his works. Some of his major themes have been environmental issues, Life under dictatorship, AIDS, the relationship between power and religion, genocide.

This piece is called Bosnia, Angola, Rwanda. Konaté tells us that it represents the wounded writing a message in blood. He bought children’s clothes in the market, most of them second hand clothes coming from the West and gathered them together laying them down on sand.

This panel is called Asalme and speaks of what Konaté describes as the biometrique generation. The same body is reproduced in different sizes. The reality of immigration is the underlying subject.

Abdoulaye Konaté’s work was just shown at the Revue Noire in Paris in 2012, at Iniva in London, 2012, Documenta 12, 2007, Africa Remix to name a few. He also won the Artes Mundi prize in 2008. I wonder what new work will come out of the military crisis in Northern Mali.

Racial politics of Tuareg nationalism

Tinariwen are a band of Touareg-Berber musicians from the Sahara desert region of Northern Mali. They have performed internationally and their fifth album Tassili won the Award for Best World Music Album in 2011. It was recorded in the rocky desert as you can see in the video.  Tinariwen share their perspective on the events in Northern Mali and offer an alternative perspective. Make sure to read the post and the following comments which provides further insights on the issues.

Tinariwen-speaks-out-on-the-coup-in-mali

Arriving late at night after a late flight from Paris I settled with my traveling companions from the Museum for African Art in the Salam hotel, which lay on the West Bank of the Niger River in Mali’s capital, Bamako. Jerry Vogel, our knowledgeable American guide and Senior Adviser for the Museum for African Art, soon gave us some local tidbits of information that made me realize how complex Mali’s perspective must be on the recent events that had taken place in Libya.  Qaddafi has been very generous with the Malians and provided significant economic support, investing heavily in infrastructure and improving their living conditions over all. In particular, money given by Qaddafi has funded in great part the neighboring stately buildings. I found myself wondering how his death would impact Bamako’s economic situations. In a strange twist, which illustrates the many paradoxes typical to that part of the world, the hotel we were staying in was overrun by American military personnel accompanying the delivery of military equipment to the Malian forces posted up North.  There was some serious politicking going on, or so it seemed to me. Why were the Americans there was my first question.

Bamako was shrouded in haze; the air was laden with sand and dust, which blew down from the Sahara. I found myself very quickly itching to get out of the city and discover rural Mali, in particular the Dogon country, which was to be one of the highlights of the trip.

 I didn’t have long to wait because the next day we flew North into Mopti, which is located just South of Timbuktu and the Sahara desert.  After driving through a somewhat barren landscape for a couple of hours in the blistering heat we arrived in Dogon country to the town of Sanga which is situated at the edge of the Bandiagara Escarpment, a sandstone cliff up to 1600 feet high, and 100 miles long.  Because it sits near a dam the town benefits from a fair amount of water. This allows for active agriculture. I stared in amazement at women and children who undeterred by the rocky terrain cultivated green onions on tiny patches of land scattered between the rocks.

 Despite this agricultural activity times are hard for the local population. Desperate for business now that tourism has almost vanished as a result of the kidnapping of French journalists a couple of years ago, young adult girls and boys pursued us insistently trying to sell us their goods or to hold our hands to help us walk through the markets and over the unpaved village paths hoping for some desperately needed cash. It quickly became very uncomfortable. There was no way I could or wanted to buy all the goods and as I am fiercely independent, I for sure did not need help walking! At once I was reminded that the economic dynamics particular to colonialism have not vanished with post-colonialism including the paternalism, huge economic disparity, and racial and gender prejudices. Just being there and touring the village felt problematic and yet we were welcome. Knowing French, which I do, went a long way towards negotiating these awkward and even tense encounters. It helped me engage with the people I met on a more personable level by breaking down the anonymity and shift away from perspectives based on stereotype.

 On our way to our main destination, the Dogon and Telem villages, we stopped at a divination site, a large rectangle of dirt framed by small rocks. A pattern of symbols had been carefully drawn in the dirt. The diviner explained that each symbol stood for some archetypal concept (travel, desire, family). Villagers consulted with him when they were confronting their life problems and it was by closely examining the footsteps of a jackal wandering through this symbolic code that he was able to give individual seekers direction going forward. As I found out, there is nothing simple about this coding system!  Indeed the Bambara divination is based on fractals, the mathematical properties of which are way over my head! So I’m moving on.

As we approached the Bandiagara Escarpment, nothing in the flat landscape prepared us for the magical sight we were to meet at the edge. Before us, as we stood there, we saw ancient villages nestled at the foot of the escarpment and beyond, the vast Seno plain. This area is steeped in history: According to oral history, the Telem settled in that area during the 12^th Century A.D. They were cave dwelling people and buried their dead in the cliffs. One can see holes in the cliffs where graves have more recently been dug out. The Dogon came later during the 14^th / 15^th century from Mande near Bamako to escape Islamization. They built their villages in defensible positions along the wall of the escarpment.  Hearing about the waves of settlements reminded me that the history of peoples in Africa is a history of displacement as it is still today.

Throughout the late 19^th and 20^th century, these burial sites in the cliffs became seen as a treasure trove because they were an invaluable source for ancient Dogon pottery. The Dogon people also interred their dead in big ceramic urns, which were then buried in the earth. We visited an ancient grave site later in the trip. You could see the top of the urns, which were barely visible in the grass. Excavations are still going on today.

We descended into the village of Songho from the top of the escarpment by going down a steep set of steps. As we meandered through the village we caught a glimpse of daily life. Mud granaries with their steep roofs were some of the more typical architectural structures. Wooden carved ladders that looked like sculptures to my eye leaned against the walls of the granaries allowing access to the stores of millet or sorghum. 

The mud mosques and minarets – Islam did eventually catch up – and the togunas where the council of elders meets to make decisions concerning the community were also architecturally interesting. Togunas have very low thick roofs to prevent any one from standing upright in case of disagreement. I could not help thinking that some of the parliamentary sessions in Europe and the US could use such a thing! Wise men, these African elders! Often, the togunas are held up with carved pillars, which have been sought after as art objects by western collectors. Doors and shutters are traditionally carved and some of the more ancient ones also figure in Western collections of African art. Ugh! It is sad to think that many of these historical pieces are now outside of Mali. Yet, I thought those doors and shutters attractive and the fact that they were recently made did not bother me. Old or not, they reflected the Dogon people’s aesthetic sense.

Our next destination was the male circumcision cave. Inside were phenomenal red and white paintings of animals and plants. The simplified, almost abstracted forms were very pleasing to my eye, which has been shaped by the modernist aesthetic. Circumcision is still practiced today every three years and these paintings get repainted each time.

The crowning event of the day was the Dama dance, a masked funeral ritual at the Tirili village. The performance has been tailored as entertainment for the tourist but it is based on an actual ritualistic dance or masquerade, which takes place every three or five years at most.

The traditional purpose of the dance is to chase the departed souls out of the village so they can become ancestors. I was totally enthralled, enchanted, and impressed by the skill of the musicians, who elders of the community are dressed in garments made of indigo thick cotton cloth and the strength and the virtuosity of the dancers who bore colorful dress and various masks, one more fascinating than the next.After parading all in a group, each mask got a chance to be center stage and dance its role to the rhythmic sound of the drums.  Carefully orchestrated and with dramatic flair, the dance was a most beautiful spectacle.

On our way back, as we drove along a ridge, we got a final view of these remote villages, which are at once timeless and deeply steeped in history, now in the shadows as the sun set behind the escarpment.

Two sets of kidnappings happened last week one in Timbuktu and the other south of the Niger River in Hombori. This makes me realize how lucky we were three weeks ago during our visit to Mali. I don’t mind discomfort and a bit of an edge but killing and kidnapping is altogether something else. In a way I feel privileged to have been able to go North to the Dogon country, get to discover its treasures, and come back safe. It seems it could get a lot worse before it gets better. When I was staying in  Bamako I noticed American military personnel staying at our hotel. They were not wearing fatigues but I recognized the look. Indeed I read a few days later that the US had sent some trucks and other machinery (not troops ) to take up North where trouble was brewing. So a military build-up is under way  in part to deal with the increase of armed Touaregs and other coming back from fighting in Libya. This is such a blow to tourism, and to the Bamako Biennale.  For further information, check these articles online.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/europe/witness-says-1-european-tourist-killed-3-others-kidnapped-from-a-timbuktu-restaurant-in-mali/2011/11/25/gIQA0y1vvN_story.html?hpid=z4

http://www.europe1.fr/International/Mali-le-passe-sulfureux-des-otages-833797/

In October 2011, as part of the White Light Festival,  Peter Sellars’ Desdemona showed at The Rose Theater at Lincoln Center. The show, written by the acclaimed author Toni Morrison, tells the story of Othello’s characters—particularly Desdemona and her African maid Barbary—reuniting after death.

I was intrigued by the performance; I have often wondered what happens to our literary heroes after they are gone. In Shakespeare’s Othello, the main character kills himself after murdering his lover Desdemona. So what was it like for the spouses to meet after death?

The reviews introduce Desdemona as a play, though when I spoke to Morrison she insisted, “there’s nothing theatrical about it.” Instead, “Desdemona” is a poetic conversation, half sung in Malian by the African singer Rokia Traoré, who interprets the old servant Barbary, and half recounted by Tina Benko who portrays both Desdemona and the Moor. Rokia Traore’s voice is accompanied by two male musicians, one on a tom-tom and the other on the guitar.  The beat is similar to reggae: slow and repetitive.

Peter Sellars creates a minimalist scenery; the two women, barefoot and dressed in white, sat amidst glass bottles and floating light bulbs. They remained close to the floor throughout the entire length of the show, leaving most of the stage empty.  A sense of intimacy and closeness is achieved by this restrictive use of space.  I felt as if I was both part of the women’s reunion, because they seemed so approachable and inclusive, and yet I also felt kept at a distance and reminded of my place as a spectator. Indeed, the slow and monotonous tone of their exchange at times gave me the impression I was listening in on a heart-to-heart. The performance catches their conversation mid way, which makes it difficult to understand at first.  However, after a few minutes, Desdemona retells the story of herself and Othello, which bring us back into the loop.

The show is about the reunion of two cultures after they have been freed from social expectations by death. Indeed, in Shakespeare’s Othello there is a clear separation between white and black but the divide remains implicit. Racism is a given but it is never discussed openly. In Morrison’s version though, the ones who have been persecuted, especially Barbary, are able to stand up for themselves. During the conversation between the two women, Desdemona calls her maid ” her oldest friend.” After a short silence, Barbary corrects her and coldly replies,”I was your slave.” Most of Sellars’ show is about redefining misunderstandings and about Africa finding its voice. Yet, though the continent comes off as strong and independent, it also has its flaws. Othello represents the violent side of Africa. When Benko portrays him, her voice deepens and her tone becomes aggressive. She brings forth his violent nature, which is even more noticeable in contrast to the women’s poise.  While in the Elizabethan play the Moor nearly looses his noble reputation after killing his lover, in Morrison’s version there is the possibility of redemption.

The actresses’ words unravel as elegant prose, a fusion of imagery and truth, which we are invited to read on the screen behind them. After the show I heard members of the audience mistaking Morrison’s text for Shakespeare’s, and though Morrison assures us she was “not competing against” the playwright, the confusion is understandable. Her narrative creates a delicate universe. It reflects on love and pays homage to death through the mournful Willow Song, which concludes the performance. Though the play lingers a bit and the rhythm becomes repetitive, the poetic quality of the exchange and the intimate songs brought me into a trance that lingered after the show was over.

“I am writing for the blog Happening Africa,” I told Mrs. Morrison when I introduced myself to talk to her for this review. “Happening Africa?” She replied, “You’ll like the show, then.”

African travel and art: Isabel S Wilcox is off to Mali with the Museum for African art to visit historical sites and artistic centers in up country Mali. The very knowledgeable, Jerry Vogel is guiding the group. A good stay in Bamako follows with the Photography Biennale being the main focus, then off to Paris for Paris Photo. Reports on the wonders of Mali will be forthcoming.