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ALL peoples feel the need, at some moment in their history, to come into that prolonged and fecund contact with the world of the senses from which there comes forth the verbal, musical, or plastic representation of the mind. But each one of them speaks its own language; thus a given people which has composed poems or orchestrated symphonies remains incapable of rising to plastic generalizations of a distinguishing accent. Outside of the French, the Italians, the Spaniards, the Flemings, the Dutch, sometimes the Germans—I hesitate to say the English—the societies of mediaeval or modern Europe have left the industrial art of the people only to attempt imitations, more or less disguised, of the great foreign schools. Now all the races, even the most primitive, possess the faculty of decorating pots, carving wooden figurines, making furniture, weaving stuffs, and carving metal. That is to say that any people in Europe which has not, in the general onward sweep of Occidental culture, known how to utilize the stammerings of these rudimentary arts, to make up a language of its own, a living language that expresses it in its highest desires, must seek to realize them otherwise than by images, which it does not know how to use because it does not love them. Besides, as civilization becomes universal, it perverts the needs of the people's soul, and the manifestations of that soul take on more and more of a mongrel character. To find a primitive art that retains its sap and can impart new and strong emotions to sensibilities that have preserved or regained their first ingenuousness, we must go to those peoples who have remained primitives.
ALL peoples feel the need, at some moment in their history, to come into that prolonged and fecund contact with the world of the senses from which there comes forth the verbal, musical, or plastic representation of the mind. But each one of them speaks its own language; thus a given people which has composed poems or orchestrated symphonies remains incapable of rising to plastic generalizations of a distinguishing accent. Outside of the French, the Italians, the Spaniards, the Flemings, the Dutch, sometimes the Germans—I hesitate to say the English—the societies of mediaeval or modern Europe have left the industrial art of the people only to attempt imitations, more or less disguised, of the great foreign schools. Now all the races, even the most primitive, possess the faculty of decorating pots, carving wooden figurines, making furniture, weaving stuffs, and carving metal. That is to say that any people in Europe which has not, in the general onward sweep of Occidental culture, known how to utilize the stammerings of these rudimentary arts, to make up a language of its own, a living language that expresses it in its highest desires, must seek to realize them otherwise than by images, which it does not know how to use because it does not love them. Besides, as civilization becomes universal, it perverts the needs of the people's soul, and the manifestations of that soul take on more and more of a mongrel character. To find a primitive art that retains its sap and can impart new and strong emotions to sensibilities that have preserved or regained their first ingenuousness, we must go to those peoples who have remained primitives.
It is
in the tropics or near the polar regions that men, in the heart of modern
times, have preserved practically intact the spirit of their most distant
ancestors. It is only there that they have not passed beyond the stage of
naturistic fetishism and the grouping by tribes. In one region the heat is too
intense; in the other region the cold is too severe. Here the seasons are too
distinct and too heavy; there they are too torpid and of too slow a rhythm.
Among the peoples of the tropics, even the most rudimentary effort to get food
and shelter is practically unnecessary, the effort to rise is too hard, and
with the polar peoples the only use of effort is to secure an existence, which
is vegetative and precarious, the nature of the country being too ungrateful
for the inhabitant to imagine that he could modify his surroundings to his
profit. Finally, neither in the one region nor in the other have any great
human migrations passed, to renew the race, to bring it the breath of the world
outside, because the course of these migrations has been turned aside by the
ice, the deserts, the overdense forests, and the too-vast oceans.
The
black race is perhaps that one among the backward peoples which has manifested
the least aptitude for raising itself above the elementary human instincts that
result in the formation of language, the first social crystallizations, and the
industries indispensable to them. Even when transplanted in great numbers to
places like North America that have reached the most original, even if not the
highest, degree of civilization that we find in modern times, the black man
remains, after centuries, what he was—an impulsive child, ingenuously good, and
ingenuously cruel; as in the case of other children, all of his acts spring
from immediate sensation. And yet his was the only one of the great primitive
races which, inhabiting a massive continent in large numbers, lacked neither
arms nor heads to modify its surroundings, discover new relationships, and create
new ideas. But this continent is divided into twenty sections by the sands, the
mountains, the brush, and the virgin forests; it is infested with wild beasts,
it is feverish and torrid, and is cut in two by the equator. Its northern
shores, those on the Mediterranean, are habitable for white men, and only these
regions have, from the beginnings of history, participated in man's great
future.
However,
if we revert to the earliest times we discover an Africa that was probably
identical with what it is at this hour, and consequently on the same level with
that of the tribes that peopled the north and the west of Europe—perhaps on a
higher level. War and commerce created constant relationships between ancient
Egypt and the Sudan, and Central Africa participated in the development of the
civilization of the Nile. From that period on, iron was worked in Nigritia,
while the old world hardly knew yet how to work in bronze, and the African
jewelry that is still made by the Somalis of East Africa, the Pahouins, the
Ashantis, and the Haoussas of West Africa, was brought by caravans from the
confines of Upper Egypt to the markets of Thebes and Memphis. The jewelry is
heavy, of a thick and compact material, with incrustations of blue and red
stones whose opaque glow spots the circles of mat gold or of somber silver.
Geometrical figures are dear to all primitive peoples, whether they paint their
pots, decorate their huts, weave their clothing, or stripe the skin of their
faces or their bodies; and cutting into the African jewelry in every direction
we find again these geometrical forms—short, fat, dense, and pressed closely
together. As mathematics, the science of inert forms, preceded biology, so
geometrical ornament preceded living ornament, and certain child peoples, incapable
of interpreting life, have arrived, in ornamental art, at the highest degree of
power. The human mind proceeds always from the simple to the complex, but when
the great artist appears to unite the most differentiated living forms through
a single arabesque, or when modern science tries to express all its conquests
in mathematical symbols, the mind is invariably brought back to primitive
sources, the very ones at which instinct slaked its thirst. The result is
always the impressive agreement between the most obscure feeling and the
highest form of reason.
In
general, we need not seek, in the art of the Negroes, anything more than that
still unreasoned feeling which merely obeys the most elementary demands of
rhythm and of symmetry. When the youthful peoples follow the instinct which
urges them to impose on the living forms that come from their hands a vaguely
architectural appearance, an awkward, rough symmetry, they unquestionably obey
an imperious desire for synthesis, but this synthesis is of the kind that
precedes experience and not the kind that follows it. The sculpture in wood of
the Negroes is still very far from the great Egyptian sculpture, for example,
whose advent coincides with that of a social and religious edifice of the most
powerful architecture. Perhaps it is a first sketch or presentiment of Egyptian
art that we see in Negro sculpture—one which may carry us back almost as far as
the appearance of man in Africa. From such a beginning may well have come the
sudden start for the ascent, through the long centuries in the great fertile
valley where the black and white races fuse. Then, after the slowest, the
loftiest, the most conscious stylization, after the art of the Nile has sunk
into the sands, the Negro again prolongs the immobile inspiration of Africa
until our own time. But to him we must not look for metaphysical abstractions,
for he gives us only his sensations, as short-lived as they are violent—an
attempt to satisfy the most immediate needs that spring from a rudimentary
fetishism. And perhaps it is even because of his fearful candor in showing us
rough surfaces, short limbs, bestial heads, and drooping breasts that he
reaches his great expressiveness. These sculptures in wood—black wood on which
the pure blues, the raw greens, the brown reds take on a violence so naïve that
it becomes terrifying—have a simplicity in their ferocity, an innocence in
their mood of murder, that command a kind of respect. Brute nature circulates
in them, and burning sap and black blood. Although man is afraid of them, he
cannot help recognizing and loving his impulses—rendered concrete in the
crawling crocodiles and the crouching gorillas which are sketched by long
strokes in the wood and which decorate the doors and beams of his hut or the
sides of his tomtoms.
How are
we to discover, in the confusion and the ebb and flow of the tribes and the
industries of Africa, the stronger currents which would have led, without a
colonization of the continent by the European peoples, to a conquest by the
blacks of a more enlightened inner world? The Haoussas and the Ashantis,
especially, devote themselves to all the basic industries—weaving, ceramics,
iron-working, gold-working, embroidery, jewelry, and carving in wood and ivory,
and those of the Negroes of the Sudan or of western Africa who yield to the
current of Moslem propaganda have a presentiment, on coming into contact with
the spiritual spark of Islam, of the existence of a higher life. They
frequently surpass the Berber artisan in working metal and leather for articles
of luxury. But we must go back farther into the past of this dark land—this
land fertilized by blood—and find the traces of a need belonging to a still
very confused but strongly affirmed aesthetic order, since destroyed among some
of the African peoples, by the immigrations of other black men and the
invasions of the whites. Among the natives of Guinea, Niger, the Gaboon, and
the Ivory Coast, we find idols, dance and war masks, objects of daily life, and
weapons whose prototypes undoubtedly date back to a very ancient period,
perhaps an immemorial period, and these works bear witness to a desire for
stylization that is not alone very accentuated, but also powerfully original.
The plastic synthesis, here, borders on geometry. The ensemble of the work is
subjected to a kind of schematic rhythm which permits itself the boldest
deformations, but always allows certain expressive summits of the object
interpreted to remain. The kingdom of Benin, which was one of the first to
receive the Portuguese navigators and in which there developed, doubtless about
the end of the Middle Ages, the greatest school of Africa, had admirable bronze
workers. By their powerful feeling for embryonic life they became very near
relatives of the archaic Chinese sculptors, of the Khmers and the Javanese.
They twisted black serpents together to make of the rough and scaly coils in
which they writhe the supports for copper stools. Their pots often took on the
aspect of a human head and with lines of great purity; other vessels were
ornamented with strongly built rude, and very summary sculptures in which the
familiar silhouettes of the dog, the lion, the cock, the elephant, and the
crocodile are indicated, sometimes with a strong tinge of irony. At this
period, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Africa seemed, moreover, to
be emerging from its long nightmare. The Bushmen, contemporaries of the Negroes
of Benin, peopled the south of the continent; far from the equator, the
deserts, and the forests of Central Africa, they lived in a healthier climate
where stock raising is possible, where wild beasts are rarer and game is
abundant. They could, had they persisted, have given a decisive impetus to the
mind of the Negro races. Living more often from rapine than from hunting, their
nomadic and adventurous life multiplied their relationships with the tribes and
the soil of Africa at the same time that it sharpened their senses and
subtilized their mind. On the walls of the grottoes, where they hid the herds
they had stolen, they have left frescoes of red ocher in which we see, living
again, their hunts, their wars, their dances, and beasts that flee or march in
line. The form is only an approximation, but the flat spot is vibrant, and the
silhouettes, looking like shadows on a wall, march with a single movement—oxen
that are pursued, antelopes climbing a slope, great gray birds crossing the
sky.
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