1 Art Journal Spring 2014

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Effusions. Spring 2014. Volume 19 Number 3. Published by the Art and Architecture History Association. Department of Art. Miami University. Oxford. Ohio. ©

COVER ART: HISTORIC TOLEDO | Carlton Kutz | Graphite Drawing

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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ARTISTJesse ThayerBenjamin MarkNathan FoleyJacquie WallaceCarlton KutzRebecca CassidyJoe PaushelJohn Fleming and Stuart SpauldingNada ShuaibBrandon LoweryVictoria Azzi

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NOTE FROM THE DEAN

Elizabeth Mullenix Ph.D

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As I thumb through the pages of past editions of Effusions, I feel inspired

by the vibrant work—in image and in text—that I see Miami students

contributing to this important journal for young artists and historians.

It especially warms my heart as the snow piles up outside, for there is

something restorative indeed about art: in the depths of winter, it is its

own kind of spring. I think this is true because art reminds us, reminds me

at least, that innovation and beauty and boldness and meaning are at the

very center of human existence. And that whether your text be modern or

post-modern, any act of expression that is done deliberately has

significance for it is an attempt to contribute to a dialogue about culture

and society, to shape a people or a place, to hold, as Hamlet would say, “a

mirror up to nature.”

As Interim Dean for the 2013-2014 school year, I have had the opportunity

both to speak with young artists about their expressions and innovations,

and to work with administrators to construct a strategic plan for the

College. As we imagine Miami and the College of Creative Arts in the year

2020, we imagine a place for learning and discovery where extraordinary

things can continue to happen. The seeds for this future vision (shed abroad

by the fruit of the past and present) are being nourished by such efforts as

found in Effusions. Open the pages of this wonderful journal and grow!

Elizabeth Mullenix, Ph.D

Interim Dean, Collage of Creative Arts

Professor of Theatre

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NOTE FROM THE CHAIR

Peg Faimon

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It’s my pleasure, as the Chair of the Department of Art, to welcome you

the 2014 edition of Effusions, an art journal publication produced by our

students in the Department of Art that showcases a wonderful array of

student work from across the College of Creative Arts.

Through their collaborative efforts, the Effusions team has gathered

together this wonderful collection of visual and written selections to

share with the university community, and beyond. This is a fantastic

representation of the best our College has to offer and we are extremely

proud of each year’s publication, and of the work of the editorial team. I

would like to congratulate them on their hard work, and thank their faculty

advisor, dele jegede. This is truly a wonderful representation of “engaged

and student-led learning.”

Originally in its history, Effusions focused solely on the work of the

Department of Art students, but recently the concept was expanded

to include entries from the entire Arts community. As an advocate for

multi-disciplinary perspectives, I am especially pleased that this journal has

maintained this direction, spanning a broad array of visual and performing

arts and design at Miami University.

This edition of Effusions provides you with a window to the energetic,

passionate, and creative world in which our students and faculty live. Enjoy!

Peg Faimon

Chair & Professor

Department of Art

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FACULTY ADVISORdele jegede Ph.D

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As Faculty Adviser for Effusions, it has been nothing but sheer delight

to work with this team of enthusiastic and dedicated students who have

always managed to find the time to put their skills and services at the

disposal of the collective. Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than

listening to The Team as members discuss issues, assume roles, assign

responsibilities, and focus on attaining set objectives. The outcome is the

current edition of Effusions, which is a testament to grit and unbridled

creativity.

This year has been the most fertile in recent times in terms of students

who joined the Effusions Team. This is good for continuity, since working

together over time is potentially healthy for forging a strong bond.

Continuity implies some relay. As veteran members of The Team graduate,

the vacuum that their exit creates has to be filled by incoming students.

This year, two members who have served longest on The Team—Victoria

Azzi and Mallory Hellenthal—are graduating. We thank them for their

contributions to the growth of Effusions and wish them success in their

future endeavor.

I hope that this edition of Effusions will inspire our students in the College

of Creative Arts to excel. Enjoy.

dele jegede, Ph.D.

Faculty Adviser

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EFFUSIONS TEAM

Standing L-R: Kelsy Chesser, Victoria Azzi, and Bethany Strotman

Sitting L-R: Catherine Mazanek and Ashton Spann

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Effusions as an academic art journal has allowed us as students to explore

and distribute the varied artistic disciplines within our student body here

at Miami University. Throughout the years, Effusions has functioned as

an opportunity for students to express the work they’ve done as artists,

art historians, architects, graphic designers, composers, photographers,

interior designers and otherwise in an effort to extend the readers’

experience to the broad spectrum of creative endeavors taking place

around us. Throughout the academic year, Effusions has been developing

itself artistically to more precisely express and define our image as a

distinguished student run academic art journal. With the help of graphic

designers, visual art editors and literary submission editors Effusions has

come together piece by piece to represent the brilliance and variance of

the students here. We really feel that this year’s edition has truly come to

embody the ideal form of an art journal that we would want to give to our

readers. Continuing on, we are proud to announce the Spring 2014 edition

of Effusions Art Journal.

The Effusions Team,

Victoria Azzi

Mallory Hellenthal

Naren Gao

Kelsy Chesser

Catherine Mazanek

Gabrielle Turner

Ashton Spann

Bethany Strotman

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UNTITLED #003Jesse Thayer

Steel WirePlastic

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THERAPUTIC OBJECT #1

Benjamin Mark

CopperSteel

FabricBoneLatex

SENSORY INPUT: TOUCH

Benjamin Mark

CopperSilver Plate

Latex

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HAWKER HURRICANENathan Foley

AluminumSafety WireField Rivets Ash Cotton FabricCleco ClampsWooden Crate

Through my insatiable desire to make things with my hands and learn about the aviation industry, I delved deeper into processes of aircraft construction. By spending countless hours working and talking about aircraft with my father, he passed on to me a strong passion for the field. With thedeconstruction of aircraft forms, shapes, and details, my sculpture talks in the language of aviation, as it is constructed of materials and assembled through processes used in the industry. My research of the physics that occur during flight includes the investigation of airflow, air pressure, vapor clouds, and sound waves. In my current work, I focus on creating conical alumi-num forms integrated with turned wooden spires assembled using aircraft construction techniques. This body of work uses language of avia-tion to communicate the mysteries and phenomena surrounding flight.

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YAK-28P FIREBAR

Nathan Foley

AluminumSafety WireField Rivets

Poplar

C-5 GALAXY Nathan Foley

Aluminum

Safety Wire Field Rivets

Ash Cotton Fabric

Military Crate Cleco Clamps

Steel RodRed Light

Glass Beaker

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Today I will be presenting on Cai Guo-Qiang, who is one of the most

influential contemporary Chinese artists alive today. He has exhibited

in over fifteen countries and various places within the United States,

from New York and Washington D.C. to Qatar, London and Denmark. His

background has been especially influential throughout his journey in finding

his own voice as a Chinese artist. Cai was born in 1957 in the Quanzhou,

Fujian Province in China. He grew up in a traditional scholar’s family.

His father was an amateur calligrapher and their home was a common

gathering place for traditional painters. The constant surroundings of

traditional Chinese mediums fueled his rebellious spirit early on. Cai began

adopting western art forms such as watercolor and oil painting. Besides

painting he was also interested in set design and theater. He attended the

Shanghai Academy of Drama in 1982.

In 1984 Cai hit a turning point in his career where he began

experimenting with new media. Examples of this are blowing wet paint

onto canvases with an electric fan, or creating whirlpools of painting. As he

used these new mediums he began reevaluating his relationship with the

west. He explained his feelings on China’s view of the West and how they

differ in artistic responses to contemporary events. He observed that while

western artists distinguish themselves from their predecessors by focusing

on contemporary issues, Chinese artists are yet to come to that realization.

So there was a sense of urgency. However, we felt we shouldn’t do as they

did, but that we should resolve our own problems in our own way. Yet when

he says, “in our way” he is not referring to traditional Chinese mediums,

rather at this time he turns away both from mediums typically associated

with either the East or the West. He started exploring nature, as a way to

avoid either Eastern or Western ideals. He quickly moved from just trees,

rocks, etc to natural forces such as fire.

The concept and combination of fire and gunpowder was what

finally caught Cai’s attention. As a Chinese artist, he took great pride in the

fact that gunpowder was invented in China. Not for the violent purposes

that it is used for today, but rather it was discovered while searching for

an elixir of immortality. Also, his birthplace of Fujian province was famous

manufacturers of firecrackers, which deepened his connection with this

medium. The concept of explosives and the destructive force of dynamite

captivated Cai Guo-Qiang. It was a constant presence in his childhood:

in movies, dramas, and cartoon books about the Cultural Revolution , it

surrounded him. The juxtaposition and contradiction that fascinated Cai

was that gunpowder was used in fireworks, which promoted ideas of

CAI GUO-QIANG: A CONTEMPORARY CHINESE VOICE Jacquie Wallace

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celebration, happiness, and unity. Yet, the same gunpowder was used to fill

bullets and explosives that killed innocent people every single day.

His attraction to gunpowder and explosions has been explained

by his need for freedom. He has been quoted saying that his early use

of gunpowder in painting was specifically connected to the political

environment of China in the 1980’s. The 1980’s in China were a time of

extreme repression and Cai found that explosions were an outlet from

this strict environment. He claimed that it freed him from social pressures

and institutionalized order such as state ideologies and rigid art academy

programs.

This admiration for all that encompasses the medium of

gunpowder can be seen in his early works. Self Portrait: A Subjugated

Soul, 1985/89 was one the earliest. Standing 167 centimeters tall and 118

centimeters wide, this work presents various contradictions. Originally

created in 1985, it combined mixed feelings of suffering and ecstasy. While

it is titled self-portrait, there are no recognizable facial features or anything

distinguishable about the darkened silhouette that emerges in the center.

Laying gunpowder on canvas and arranging it in a manner that he pleased,

followed by lighting it on fire made his gunpowder drawings. The damage

and residue left creates these images. The original work created two

separate interpretations. First, the idea of torture, repression, and suffering

alludes to the idea that he is the victim. Yet, another interpretation is that

he is presented in a god-like fashion, with a golden halo emitting rays.

This ambiguity lends more depth to the work. In 1989 after the student

demonstrations that ended in massacre at Tian’amen Square, Cai reworked

this piece, adding A Subjugated Soul to the title. This second part of the title

alludes to his projection of his feelings of loneliness and alienation, which

hints towards his feelings about being separated from his homeland during

this difficult time in China’s history.

In 1986 Cai Guo-Qiang’s journey of finding his own style and

point of view continues in his piece titled Space No. 1, 1988, which was

first exhibited in Japan. He immigrated to Japan in 1986 and this work

was displayed in the Iwaki Exhibition in Fukushima Prefecture, Japan. This

piece included a variety of materials. The basis was paper shades that were

mounted on bamboo sticks that had gunpowder damage to them. The

damage to the shades highlighted their fragility, as well as the use of the

shades was a superficial return to Oriental aesthetics. The monochromatic

images created through this technique were a better form of self-

expression than other Western mediums he had tried. The paper shades

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resemble hanging scrolls, but they are completely stripped of their original

use, which is typically pen and ink or calligraphy. His move to Japan allowed

him to have a reflection and revisit of his own cultural traditions from a new

perspective. Throughout Japan’s modernization they took a different approach

to traditional aspects of life. Rather than reject “things from the past” and

traditional ideas they incorporated them into their modernization and modern

aesthetics. This concept was so foreign to Cai, because China had been so

against anything traditional, which they saw as backwards thinking (“Fuegos

Artificiales Negros”, 65). Being in Japan and seeing their use of the traditional

in Cai was given a new perspective on the relationship between China’s

traditional and modern aesthetics.

Cai rejected Japan’s idea of always looking to the West for solutions,

and wanted to promote finding resolutions from within the East. Cai’s work

A Gift from Iwaki, 1994 displays ene aspect of Cai’s work that sometimes is

overlooked, which is his ability and desire to involve local communities in his

projects. In this work he engaged the Iwaki locals into helping him implement

his plan. After one of the major wars in Japan’s history, this area of Japan

threw all of their wooden war boats into the ocean, to replace them with

iron ones. Through this project Cai, with the help of the local Iwaki people,

excavated these wooden boats. Extracting these huge ships from the ocean,

the people of this area were made to rummage through their history and

rediscover their own past. Inside the boats are ceramic statuettes of the

Bodhisattva Guomyin, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. These sculptures were

manufactured near Quanzhou, which is in a region famous for producing

porcelain for Chinese export. The sculptures likeness is objectified in the

context of the history of commercial exchange between Asia and the West.

This project, which was enormous in size, really engaged the community in

Japan as well as brought forth Cai Guo-Qiang’s commentary on the traditional,

and the relationship between the East and the West.

In another work Cai Guo-Qiang Borrowing Enemy’s Arrows, 1998

he excavated a fishing boat from Quanzhou. He then pierced it with about

3,000 arrows, and added a Chinese flag at the stern of the boat. The flag

fluttered in the wind from an electric fan, which was mounted in front of it.

This piece alludes to a legendary story involving the Chinese general Zhuge

Liang about a lesson of resourcefulness and strategy. The legend says that for

an impeding battle the military strategist Zhou Yu challenged Zhuge to produce

100,000 arrows in ten days or face capital punishment. It only took Zhuge

three days to acquire this massive amount of arrows. His strategy was that he

ordered men to fill twenty boats with straw figures and sent them out in the

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darkness before dawn so that the enemy was unable to clearly see what was

happening. The enemy fired arrows that lodged in the straw dummies, which

gave Zhuge the 100,000 borrowed arrows. This installation brings the legend

into modernity. It examines the dynamics of China’s emergence as a world

leader in the 1990’s. It references China’s emergence and it’s tactical strategy

of defeating its opponents with their own strengths.

Cai Guo-Qiang has been exhibited all around the world including

the United States. In 2002 he was commissioned to create a spectacle to

commemorate the Museum of Modern Art in New York City’s temporary move

from Manhattan to Queens. This event was the first pyrotechnic event allowed

in New York City following the events of September 11th, 2001. Cai Guo-Qiang

was aware of the significance of this event, because it was the first use of fire

in the city, after this horrifying event. Therefore he created a rainbow explosion

titled, Transient Rainbow. It was a rainbow arch with seven different colors,

and symbolized hope, promise, and renewal. Cai turned an explosion, which

to Americans at this time had brought back awful memories of horror, into a

beautiful spectacle. It allowed Americans to reevaluate their feelings towards

explosions, and bring them hope. It was created with over one thousand shells

with computer chips designed with precise height and time of each detonation

to create the arch. Cai is obviously aware of the essence of gunpowder: its

origin as an element of organic materials and its healing powers. It is also

interesting to observe how Cai has turned the Chinese concept of the potency

of fire into an idea that can potentially help heal the American people.

A similar explosion, but with a completely different message behind

it was created for the Valencia Institute of Modern Art (IVAM), in 2005. Cai

created Black Rainbow, which appeared in the sky at noon over the city’s

River Park. Cai Guo-Qiang was brought to Spain three days after the train

bombings in Madrid, on March 11. This act of terrorism killed over two hundred

civilians, and was the inspiration for Cai’s work. Because Valencia is known

for its extravagant and colorful fireworks; Cai was faced with the challenge of

creating a spectacle that would surprise onlookers. In an attempt to shock,

and respond to terrorism Cai inverted the brilliance of fireworks themselves.

Fireworks light up the night. Yet in this piece Cai created black fireworks

that could be seen during the day. This inversion is a symbol of increased

vulnerability of the world at the hands of terrorism. There were three phases of

the rainbow, all which created an eerie silence and omen of violence. Through

this work Cai was able to bring attention to the unsettling world we live in

today, where death and destruction is a part of everyday life. Cai Guo-Qiang

not only shocked the people of Valencia, but also made them a part of this

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project through employing various local firework companies to help set off the

explosions. Their involvement allowed them to even further identify with

this project.

An earlier work using explosions as a medium was created for

the opening of the Kassel International Art Exhibit in 1992. This work, Fetus

Movement II, opened the entire exhibit. Cai dug up concentric circles and

put explosives in each one. So around the largest circle, and the middle

island he created moats. He sat in the tiny center island of the circles and

connected himself to an electrocardiograph to monitor his heart and an

electroencephalograph to monitor brainwaves during the explosion. He also

had nine sensors buried outside the perimeter of the largest and outer circle,

which were attached to a seismograph that would chart the movement of the

earth. Through this recording of both his reaction and the earth’s reaction to

the explosion he wanted to unite the earth and the human spirit. At the same

time he was referencing the origins of the earth and the big bang theory.

During this explosion he had a double position, he was both the initiator of

the “cosmological explosion” as well as a recipient of its impact. He is quoted

about this work saying,

“Explosions make you feel something intense at the very core of your being

because, while you can arrange the explosion as you please, you cannot

control the explosion itself. And this fills you with a great feeling of freedom.”

Cai Guo-Qiang has continued planning and executing explosion

events, but he has also extended his medium base and created a variety of

installation pieces that have been exhibited around the world. Cai created

the work, Inopportune: Stage One for the Massachusetts Museum of

Contemporary Art in 2004. It consisted of six white sedans that simulate an

explosion through their tumbling motion through the air as well as lights that

are bursting out of them. The first car is perfectly fine, then as we approach

the second it simulates a flash of light, and then the colors get warmer. This

replicates an actual explosion, which first there is a flash of light, and then

colors emerge. Following the extremely warm colors, the cars tumble and

move into more dream-like colors such as purple, blue, and pink. Finally the

exhibit is completed with the last white sedan, which is perfectly normal, as

was the first sedan. This beginning and ending with regular cars, alludes to the

idea of a cycle or looped sequence that can always start again. This exhibit

presents a contradiction, something that Cai loves to present in his work, one

view there is a sense of terror that unfolds in front of our eyes, yet at the same

time it is something beautiful and dream-like. Cai Guo-Qiang was quoted,

“At the instance when an explosion takes place, humans are released from

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every restriction they possess…” This quote really exemplifies the beauty

and freedom that Cai finds in explosions, and why he continued this idea of

explosions but rather than with gunpowder he did so through

installation art.

In Cai Guo-Qiang’s Self Portrait: A Subjugated Soul we investigated

what Cai has termed his “gunpowder drawings”. Another interesting

gunpowder drawing is Car A created in 2005 as a part of the same exhibition

as Inopportune: Stage One, the work we just looked at. This gunpowder

drawing was a nice complement to the Stage One installation piece as it is a

drawing of the exploding cars. When questioned about the relationship of his

gunpowder drawings to his outdoor explosions or installation art he explained

that they are both created before the event or installation and even after.

It is another way for him to explore the work he is creating. Through these

drawings he is pushing gunpowder into the realm of two-dimensions, not just

its typical use for explosions. It allows for deeper conceptual exploration of his

other works.

Continuing with the “Inopportune Exhibition” we can explore more

of Cai Guo-Qiang’s installation works. In Inopportune: Stage Two, 2006 Cai

presents nine life size tigers that are penetrated with arrows. At first when

entering the audience can see the scene as a whole, but as they get closer

each individual tiger’s specific details become apparent. Each tiger has its

own emotion and Cai pushes to try and represent what the tiger was going

through. The tigers have a heroic feeling because even as they are being shot

at from an unknown source their reaction is heroic as they run and stand,

beautiful and defiant. Another contradiction is present in this work as the tigers

present a pure aesthetic beauty, yet the idea of hunting tigers is repulsive.

This tension between seduction and repulsion is present at the same time

in this work. In both Inopportune: Stage One and Inopportune: Stage Two,

the specific title of “stage” is also important. It presents the installation as a

theater set. It allows for a hyper reality to be mixed with theatrics, which leads

to ambiguity in whether it is real or a set. This is another contradiction that Cai

presents and pushes in his work.

In Illusion, 2004 Cai Guo-Qiang combines the idea of installation

works and explosion events. He has a looped video that is displayed on large

screens that shows a white sedan, similar to the ones in Inopportune: Stage

One, in the middle of Times Square in New York City. While people obliviously

walk past the white sedan is blown up. During the dramatic explosion the

hustle and bustle of New York City is completely indifferent. Next to the screen

with the video is the actual white sedan completely charred and burned which

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lends an unsettling air to the staged “illusion”. The looped video once again

hints towards the idea of rebirth and regeneration. Once again Cai presents

the audience with a contradiction, while the explosion is something that

creates terror, it also is dream-like and beautiful, something which you

cannot turn away from. The people of New York City seem apathetic to the

vehicle’s violent explosion. It is an intriguing exhibit as he combines his

explosion events and installation works to create something ambiguous

titling it Illusion, yet having evidence of its reality.

Some of Cai Guo-Qiang works make general statements about

society, but there are many that have direct political statements as well. For

instance, in Red Flag, 2005 he created an explosion event in front of the

Zacheta National Gallery of Art in Warsaw. He created a red flag that was

a combination of red cloth and red gunpowder fuses. Standing about 640

centimeters by 960 centimeters, it was attached to a flagpole that stood

on top of a soviet era truck, which was parked directly outside the entrance

of the National Gallery. The location was full of political significance as it

was the place of the assassination of the first Polish president, Gabriel

Narutowicz in 1922. Also, this was an assembly place for multiple protests

against the communist party in the 1980’s. He lit the flag on fire, and as the

fire crept across from left to right it produced a flag shaped cloud of smoke.

This burning of the red flag symbolized the end of communist control in

Eastern Europe. This was the first place that Cai’s work was shown in a

former communist country.

Cai Guo-Qiang did not just focus his political commentary on the

communist party or China but rather commented any countries relevant

politics. In his 2006 solo exhibition at the Guggenheim in Berlin, Germany

he created Head On. This exhibit consisted of ninety life size wolves that

galloped and leapt full force towards a glass wall. The wolves were created

from paper mache, plaster, fiberglass, resin and painted hide. The wolves

are walking in the first room. In the next they are jumping in a unified arc,

only to collide “head on” with this glass wall. The glass wall is the same

exact height and width as the Berlin wall. This piece has an enormous

amount of political undertones, first being that the wolves’ cohesiveness

led to their downfall. This clearly focused on the human fallibility of following

any collective ideology too blindly, as well as constantly repeating the same

mistakes unthinkingly. While this exhibit did reference German history, it

also can be seen as Cai’s interpretation on China’s people following the

collective ideas of Mao Ze Dong during the Cultural Revolution.

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The last piece I want to discuss was done in 2009 where Cai Guo-

Qiang had co-exhibitions at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) and The

Fabric Workshop Museum. One of the main spectacles was an explosion

event at the entrance of the Philadelphia Museum of Art titled, Fallen

Blossoms: Explosion Project. Rather than a political undertone this was

a reflective exhibition. Cai was originally asked to work on this project in

2008, but with his involvement with the Beijing Olympics conflicted. After

being asked again, he agreed in 2009, and by then the long time director

of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Anne d’Harnoncourt had unexpectedly

passed away. Her friendship with the director of the other collaborating

museum, The Fabric Workshop museum, Marion Boulton was what inspired

Cai during this exhibition. Cai Guo-Qiang became very interested in time

and the various ways in which we mark it’s passing, as well as the complex

relationship it bears to the question of memory. He created a large flower

on the East Entrance of the PMA, which faced Benjamin Franklin Parkway

and the heart of the city. As he lit the fuses, the flower began burning from

the center and moved outwards towards the petals, finally ending with just

embers, which faded into silver sparkles. It mimicked Boulton’s recollection

of her memories of Anne. It produced a sense of nostalgia, as well as

reminded the audience that life can perish just as quickly as it flourishes.

The works created by Cai Guo-Qiang analyzed today are only a

sample of his vast variety and quantity of pieces. He creates each piece

with individual thought and makes it specific to the geographic location. He

comments on politics, history, and social issues. Cai’s interest in gunpowder

and explosions have not only set him free from the confines of his past in

China but also allowed him to investigate his relationship and feelings about

the rest of the world. In an interview he is quoted saying, “ In contemporary

media we often see explosions portrayed as acts of terrorism because they

destroy structures of political or cultural significance. But at the same time,

if it were not for this era, artists would also not be able to think of explosions

as acts of beauty.” I think this quote embodies Cai Guo-Qiang’s feelings about

explosions and his investigation into the contradictions such as beauty versus

terror. Cai Guo-Qiang presents unique perspective as one of the forerunners

of China’s contemporary artists. As he continues to travel and exhibit around

the world we can see his ideas being adopted globally.

Works Cited

“Alternative Content.” Deutsche Bank. N.p., n.d. Web.

20 Nov. 2012. <http://db-artmag.de/en/53/

news/cai-guo-qiang-at-the-guggenheim-

bilbao/>.

“AO Art ObservedâÂ�¢.” AO Art Observed RSS.

N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Nov. 2012. <http://artob

served.com/artists/cai-guo-qiang/>.

Cai, Guoqiang. Cai Guo-Qiang: Fuegos Artificiales

Negros = on Black Fireworks : Institut

Valencià D›Art Modern, 20-V/12VI-2005. Va

lencià: IVAM Institut Valencià D›Art

Modern, 2005. Print.

Cai, Guoqiang. Cai Guo-Qiang. New York: Thames &

Hudson, 2000. Print.

Cai, Guoqiang, Carlos Basualdo, Takaaki Matsu

moto, Amy Wilkins, and Marion

Boulton. Stroud. Cai Guo-Qiang:

Fallen Blossoms. Philadelphia:

Fabric Workshop and Museum, 2010. Print.

Cai, Guoqiang, Mayo Graham, Pierre Théberge, and

Jonathan Shaughnessy. Cai Guo-Qiang:

Long Scroll. Ottawa: National Gallery of

Canada, 2006. Print.

Cai, Guoqiang, Thomas Krens, Alexandra Munroe,

and Guoqiang Cai. Cai Guo-Qiang: I Want

to Believe. New York: Guggenheim

Museum, 2008. Print.

“Projects.” Cai Guo-Qiang. N.p., n.d. Web. 1 Nov.

2012. <www.caiguoqiang.com>.

“Welcome to ARTstor.” Welcome to ARTstor. N.p.,

n.d. Web. 18 Nov. 2012. <http://www.

artstor.org/index.shtml>.

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HISTORIC TOLEDO

Carlton Kutz

Graphite Drawing

I’ve always loved architecture, more specifically older architecture because of the ornate details and the unique characteristics. This was a drawing I did of an older house in the downtown Toledo area. Older houses have so much more individuality and character to them compared to houses we see today popping up in suburbs. With this drawing I really wanted to capture the details of the house including areas of light and shadow to really bring the drawing to life. I begin to think of the house much like how a person would pose for a portrait.

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ABSTRACT FACT

Carlton Kutz

Oil Paint

COLD WINTER

Carlton Kutz

Oil

This abstract piece was based on the mood and experience of a cold harsh winter. Instead of doing a visual abstraction of a winter scene I wanted to create a piece that provoked a similar feeling and mood that would be associated with a cold winter’s night.

This painting was done from the figure and I approached it in a style much like that of cubism. Instead of doing a realistic rendering of the figure it was more important to break up the space and merely suggest a nude figure instead of capturing all the details. It was also important to flatten out the space by creating a single plane for the background and for the figure.

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With this body of work I became very interested in artificial lighting and the way it behaves in a space. It is amazing how much the mood of a scene changes at nighttime, in comparison to day. The lighting itself can become very complicated as colors interact with surfaces and colors mesh together. Night is a time when our senses are the most vulnerable, since we rely heavily on our vision, and there are moments in some of the paintings that become very dark and mysterious. We find comfort in the illuminated areas, as they provide this area of safety where the space becomes clearer.

SPRING STREETCarlton Kutz

Oil Paint

29

Furthermore the night paintings deal with a very mundane, everyday scene that may not be visually interesting to a viewer, but I believe it can become of interest when done as a painting. I want to draw attention to everyday scenes that people tend to walk by without taking a second look and trying to find the beauty in them. At nighttime you literally see things in a different light and a different mood, whether it is a comforting scene or a scene that provokes a level of concern, and discomfort.

STANDARD LOANCarlton Kutz

Oil Paint

30

The issue of fakes and forgeries in the African art world has been in

the forefront of discussions since Western taste for African art has

skyrocketed. This matter ceases to be black and white, or right or wrong,

when its deeper considerations are approached. Authenticity is at its heart;

the desire and need for genuine African art initiated this business in the

first place. Furthermore, the values ascribed to African art – beginning with

whether or not it is even considered “art” - by Western audiences warrant

discussion, particularly when juxtaposed with African ascription of value

and its ramifications for how Africans approach fakes. Specifically, the

West’s obsession with the old or antique determines objects’ value and

drives many of the fakery practices that have essentially become the face

of the forgery trade. The lack of consideration for both internal and external

viewpoints and value judgments is astonishing, especially since the West

proudly exclaims their purchasing of African art as evidence for their open-

mindedness and multiculturalism. What is needed is a serious self-criticism

that bores into the very core of the forgery issue: the West’s imposition of

value on other cultures and their arts. Once the question of the importance

of authenticity is approached, there may be some resolution on the issue

of fakes. At the least, a deeper and more complete understanding of the

reasons behind the Western world’s attitudes will be reached.

Scholars seem to agree that a forgery must involve intention to

deceive, or the passing off of an object as something it is not. This deceit

may happen at any stage in the object’s sale: with the carver himself, the

first buyer, the middlemen, or the dealer (Sieber in Shelton 1976: 23). It

is difficult to pinpoint where exactly the fraudulent process starts. Often

false or incomplete information is passed along to different buyers, making

them unknowingly complicit in the fraudulence. However, they are at

fault for not demanding a more complete or verified record of the object’s

“authenticity.” The intentionally deceitful characteristic of forgeries makes

this a moral issue. The assumption is that most would not condone this

kind of behavior. The complexity lies in the fact that most buyers, whether

casual tourists or African art specialists, are familiar with the forging

process, yet they still buy the pieces. The continual purchase of these

objects encourages their very existence.

The creators of these fakes spare no expense in making the

object look convincingly old and “authentic.” The idea of “authenticity” is

integral to the processes that are undertaken to transform “fake” works

into seemingly genuine works. To be authentic commonly refers to a

work’s creation in traditional form by a traditional African artist and used in

A WESTERN PORTRAIT OF AUTHENTICITY: FAKES AND FORGERIES IN THE AFRICAN ART WORLDRebecca Cassidy

31

a traditional context. Of course, this definition itself is rife with problematic

assumptions and stereotypes. Putting those aside for a moment, consider

the intricate methods that are invented by creators of African fakes. Terra-

cotta sculptures are often excavated, but since many are fragments, they

are pieced together to form a whole object. Thermoluminescence (TL) tests

are used to verify an object’s authenticity, so having large authentic pieces

interspersed among newly-crafted pieces increases the odds that the tests

will give the object a green light. Holes will even be dug into the fake pieces

so that real fragments can be buried inside. The verification depends on

the TL tests specifically targeting the real pieces, so there is risk involved,

but such forgers have certainly mastered their craft. A piece known as the

Kuhn ram (Fig. 1) was created using an excavated and intact front body that

was then attached to various other found fragments. Verified through tests

as 1,000 years old, it was sold for $275,000 at a Sotheby’s auction (Brent,

2001:26). Only afterwards did Michel Brent find the forger himself, a man

named Amadou, who explained the processes in which he and many others

participate in order to garner a profit.

Other less technical techniques are used as well, largely in regard

to the aging of the piece. Newly-made objects will be buried in termite hills,

deliberately broken only to be fixed, or placed in bags inside animal pens

(Ellis in Shelton, 1976: 26). The piece may be immersed in various baths to

enhance the patina, and a fire may be held under the bath for weeks at a

time. Tree bark, plants, and stones are used to make paints that replicate

the look of patina. Burial in soil is also common, and the Kuhn ram was

actually buried for ten months. Urine, waste water, dung, and acid are used

to corrode the surface and make it appear worn. These time-consuming

processes must be worth the profit. This is, after all, a profession. One

man named Karabenta is a “specialist” in terra-cotta fakes in the Bankoni

style, and his fakes are even recognized and called “Karabentos” (Brent,

2001:26). This should raise some questions regarding the status of forgers.

Karabenta has his own perceptible style, just as an artist would. Undeniably,

innovation and creativity are involved, as is skill in rendering the fakes so

closely to the originals. Indeed, Brent believes that many forgers, while

earning a very decent living, are “waiting for the time when they can step

out of the shadows and own up to their considerable skills as legitimate

creative artists” (2001:26).

Some forgers use other signs of age to boost the price of their

product. The flags of the Fante military groups in southern Ghana (Fig.

2) have been increasingly faked due to internet markets facilitating their

32

sale. Before the internet, publications highlighting the flags raised interest.

Popular in the United States because of their bright colors, large size, and

symbolic visuals, demand for them has dramatically risen. In 1983, one of

these flags sold for $5,800 (Ross, 2010:1), a rather enticing sum. Dating of

these flags usually relies on whether the Union Jack or Ghanaian tricolor

flag is present. The Union Jack implies a date before 1957, when Ghana

gained independence. Figure 2 is an example of a pre-independence flag.

Upon independence, many of the Union Jacks were replaced with the tricolor

flag of Ghana (Fig. 3). After witnessing the taste for antique, workshops

began sewing flags with the Union Jack to suggest an older age. One flag

replaced the Union Jack with the tricolor in 1967 only to revert to the Union

Jack in the late 1990s to appeal to the art market. 95% of the flags that still

have the Union Jack were made specifically for the international art market.

These fake flags can be either good or poor quality. Some makers use old

textiles, old uniforms, or cloth from worn out flags in their recreations.

Unsurprisingly, some artificially age new cloth (Ross, 2010:4).

Like the terra-cotta forgers, skill and innovation are seen in the

making of these flags: “As with all replicated genres and materials of African

art, the abilities and strategies of the replicators are vastly underestimated”

(Ross, 2010:4). Considered inauthentic according to common thought,

these recreated flags require technical sewing skill, imaginative ideas for

adages, and aesthetic inclinations toward color and pattern.

Clearly, the apparent age of an item is meaningless and essentially

subjective. Supposed “experts” commonly give completely opposed

diagnoses of African objects: one expert will insist it is authentic given its

wear, while another will insist it is fake precisely because of its wear. Often

the object’s age is misrepresented due to frequent use over a short time

(Shelton, 1976:22). A new object could very well appear older (out of real

use) than an actual antiquity (out of dis-use, but “authentic” nonetheless).

Authenticity debates, aging methods, and forgers who wish to be

recognized as artists are just a sampling of problems that boil down to the

West’s obsession with the old and the value system that cultivates less-

than-ideal situations.

The obsession with the antique is incontestably Western. While

not an African society, the Kwoma of Papua New Guinea provide a helpful

foil to a Western mindset. The Kwoma society often makes replicas to

replace originals because their natural materials have decayed, and there

is a need for another, usable one (Bowden, 1999:333). In fact, the more

accurate the copy is, the higher its value. Since a well-made replica

Figure 1: Kuhn ram. Photo courtesy Michel Brent.

Archaeology. archive.archaeology.org

33

contains everything the original had, they see no difference in value

(Bowden, 1999:335). Old traditions are certainly important, as seen by the

continuation of an object’s form, but they are not held captive in a single

object. The usefulness and functionality of the object are put above anything

else. A forgery in this culture is nonexistent. In this society, too, a catering

to European taste is observed. Normally left to rot, the originals began to

be collected and sold to Europeans starting in the 19th century (Bowden,

1999:333). The Kwoma certainly did not agree with the Europeans’ partiality

for original, useless objects, but they obliged and reaped the benefits. A

parallel is seen in African societies.

In Yoruba society, for example, the word asa most closely means

“tradition,” a set of behaviors, deeds, and habits that define a society.

Their tradition is “permanently open to innovation informed by preceding

phases in the process.” Their word da means “to break,” so da asa, literally

“to break tradition,” translates as “to innovate/create” (Yai, 1999:34). Like

the Kwoma, the Yoruba value the old, but they do not dwell on it. In order

to create something, the Yoruba must break, or deviate (ya), with tradition.

Their words for carving and designing include the word for deviation (Yai,

1999:35). Constantly holding on to past styles and forms would make new

designs impossible. For the Yoruba, creativity involves the ability to observe

the past and the present and come up with an “appropriate” solution for

the future (Drewal, et al, 1989:77). In other words, the creation of objects

requires looking to past useful designs while heeding the present to see

what is now practical. The Yoruba regard the carver’s work as one stage

in the object’s journey to find its identity, whatever that turns out to be.

This identity may change with every generation or user (Abodunrin, et al,

2001:197-8). For these reasons, it is understandable why Africans produce

fakes seemingly inconsequentially.

The Western world’s obsession with the old – specifically the

African antique – stems from multiple sources. Certain Western values

must first be addressed. Western philosophy that knowledge comes

from creative human beings is significant. Many African societies believe

humans themselves are not creative but embody the wisdom and

knowledge of deities or ancestors, who then guide humans to artistically

create (Ben-Amos, 1986:61). The African artist is thus respected and

recognized, but value is not based on the artist as individual since his work

is guided by greater minds for a greater group purpose. For the West,

great art contributes something new to the world; it should be unique

and innovative. Newness is a mark of creativity (Bowden, 1999:337).

Figure 3: Asafo flag, Fante, Ghana. No. 2 Company

Santpond, 1965².

Figure 2: Fante military flag. Ghana. No. 2 Company,

Saltpond, ca. 1940¹.

34

Consequently, fakes are devalued and unwanted. Nobody wants an

object that has been reproduced thousands of times, contributing nothing

original. A forgery, or even an innocent reproduction, lacks “artistic

integrity” (Bowden, 1999:334). Forgery appears to be the result of

monotonous, senseless doing, instead of inspired, purposeful creating. It

“misrepresent[s] achievement” (Bowden, 1999:334). Age comes into play

here. The origin of the piece is believed to hold the key to determining and

verifying the achievement of the artist. Every collector wants a little piece

of African history (Hay, 2008:15). The concern with preserving the real, a

“peculiarly European attitude toward time,” insists that the genuine be

distinguished from the fake. However, this results in fixation on the object

(McLeod in Shelton, 1976:50), whether it looks “real” enough or “old”

enough or “used.” The context of its use is subverted, which was supposed

to be the focus all along. The complementary art forms of dance, song,

or poetry are ignored in favor of the preservation of one object that the

West has deemed worthy to be “immortal” (McLeod in Shelton, 1976:50).

Philip J.C. Dark describes this phenomenon as the “grand conspiracy” of

the West: to “embrace all things and see that they are given our values, fit

our taste, become the conveyors of our bland discernments” (in Shelton,

1976:57). The West assumes they are saving Africa’s antiquities. The West

knows best, and it claims certain objects as most important in an African

tradition that it actually knows nothing about.

The “tradition” to which Western collectors and museums refer

when speaking of “authentic” African art is rather arbitrary, however,

and quite out of touch with African history. This mistaken “tradition” is

exactly what necessitates the need for African art to be old, perpetuating

fakes and forgeries. An isolated, internally congruent Africa from pre-

colonial days has taken a permanent place in the Western memory and

understanding of Africa. Africa’s art is essentially tied to this structure,

making it complicated to undo such underdeveloped thinking. The mid-19th

to early 20th century epitomizes the Western image of “authentic” Africa

because it is “untainted” by the West (Kasfir, 1992:41). It is indeed ironic

that the West reverts to a “pure” Africa, yet the West fails to realize how it

is tainting Africa still today with its overbearing value system and its control

of the African art market. Filmmakers will often remove Western influences

from their films, like t-shirts or dresses, to create what they believe to be

a more realistic depiction of African culture (Kasfir, 1992:46). This is absurd

considering the fact that they are filming real people doing real things in

their real culture. Instead of understanding the changes that have occurred

35

over time, Westerners want to impose their own ideas of authenticity on

African cultures.

Africa’s history is a long saga of many changes, some happening

as fast as those that occurred during colonization. It is impossible to

precisely point to when “traditional” Africa started and ended, which

assumes that before Europeans came, Africa was a static, timeless place

(Kasfir, 1992:43). Recall the Yoruba’s evolving tradition, which is constantly

deviating and creating while still adhering to a certain set of societal ideas.

From the Africans’ viewpoint, the tweaking of their artistic habits to please

tourists and collectors does not seem so severe or strange. They have

been modifying their methods for centuries, and this is simply another

deviation. Furthermore, the idea of replication, according to the Asante, is

economically efficient. Why would someone not take advantage of such

high demand? In the past, African, as well as Western, artists would alter

their production according to a patron’s wants or needs. Today’s situation

is no different to African artists, who may see these works as a kind of

commission (Kasfir, 1992:45). The question should be why the West sees

these works as distinguishable from earlier artistic practices, and why they

seem blinded to the fact that they are commissioning the reproductions.

Unfortunately, the obsession with the old and the resulting value

judgments have not always had such innocent consequences as tourist

art or airport souvenirs. The looting of Mali and the virtual destruction of

countries’ cultural heritage are, tragically, very real ramifications. While

those who are looting their own country are certainly not innocent, the

existence of such an enterprise is due to rapidly increasing foreign desires

and dizzyingly fast price augmentation for such objects. Schmidt and

McIntosh claim in their book Plundering Africa’s Past (1996) that only the

poorest level of society is participating in this looting, out of necessity

(1). A right is being stolen from the Malians – to their own cultural past.

No longer are they in control of where their ancestors’ objects live out the

rest of their days, nor do they even have the chance to encounter these

objects to explore their history. Outsiders are deciding which objects

are most valuable, isolating a whole nation from their heritage (Schmidt

and McIntosh, 1996:4). McIntosh boldly denounces everyone involved

in the antiquities market as complicit to cultural genocide (Schmidt and

McIntosh, 1996:51). Museums, set up according to Western standards, do

not foster intimacy. They are out of touch with their own people, leading to

frequent and apathetic theft (Schmidt and McIntosh, 1996:8). In Nigeria, the

government created an ordinance in 1953 by which it attempted to regulate

36

the trade of antiquities, which were defined as culturally important objects

made before 1918 (Schmidt and McIntosh, 1996:126). The demarcation

year of 1918 seems just as arbitrary as similar Western boundaries.

The governments are not encouraging of culture, its importance, or its

conservation, negatively affecting the views of the people. Dr. dele jegede

reflects that “[through this] dilemma, ...Africa continues to lose not only

monetary benefits but, more devastatingly, its past, pride, and creative

virility...” (Schmidt and McIntosh, 1996:126). It could be that their making

of forgeries is a way to take back some of this loss. There are obvious

monetary gains, but perhaps it recreates their traditions in a setting which

gives them control for once. The objects probably end up being sold, but

the creator may get the last laugh when a foreigner is duped. If not, it may

be cathartic to be able to revisit ancestral techniques and styles, and this

time, the foreigners are not receiving the real goods.

Lastly, it is important to draw attention to African artists who are

working both traditionally and creatively. Yoruba carver Yesufu Ejigboye

carves traditional religious objects as well as modern airplanes for

decoration (Fig. 4). He carves ibeji figures (Fig. 5) which are normally

labeled “traditional” African art (Houlberg, 1976:15) for sale to anyone.

These carvings are not from the typical pre-colonial time period, so

their value as antiques is certainly low, but their authenticity is more

indefinite. Would lack of patina cause a buyer to say these are inauthentic

reproductions – no matter the quality of craft? Their unsoiled look does

not match current aesthetic taste, devaluing them, even though they are

perfectly adequate for traditional cultural usage. Figure 6 shows an ibeji

also made by Ejigboye, though this one shows encrustation from 20 years

of use. Would this piece sell on the market simply due to its clear signs of

use? Or would it be disregarded as too obviously worn and therefore fake?

Is it too young to be an antique? Or does the story behind its use suffice?

These questions prove that the complexities of the issue of fakes and

forgeries may boil down to taste and Western subjectivity. Moreover, the

question looms of whether his airplanes, the work of a free-thinking artist,

will ever be considered “traditional” African art, or even art at all.

Fakes and forgeries in African art stir up complex issues regarding

ideas of authenticity, obsession with the old, ascription of value, and

imposition of Western taste and standards onto African society. The

deceitful aspect of forgery is off-putting, although fake advertising is

ubiquitous, nowhere more than the West. This is one instance of the double

standards that abound in current understanding of African art. The Western

Figure 4: Yesufu Ejigboye posing with his airplane and

an in-process ibeji³.

Figure 5: Ibeji made by Ejigboye. 2 pairs for sale to

anyone4.

Figure 6: Ibeji by Ejigboye, after 20 years of ritual use5.

37

domination of the African art market is confirmed by the amount of forging,

faking, and reproducing that occurs, as well as by the tragic looting that

has taken place across much of Africa. Westerners are simultaneously

the cause of such controversial practices and the ensuing critic. However,

given the difference in cultural opinion regarding tradition, age, and value

ascription, it is no wonder that fakes, forgeries, and innocent reproductions

like tourist art abound. Unlike the West, where the creativity and originality

of an artist is heralded, Africans stress usefulness and practicality. Often, this

means that old styles and forms are repeated, but difference in aesthetic

over time is also embraced as natural evolution of their society. The Western

audience cannot comprehend the history of the African societies they claim

to embrace: they are dynamic, adaptive cultures. Perhaps the taste for

Western art is a fad, and if it is, the specific questions regarding fakes and

forgeries will be trivial, but the broader issues still need to be addressed,

specifically the one that places Western values above all else.

38

Bibliography

Abodunrin, Femi, Olu Obafemi, and Wole Ogundele, eds. Character Is Beauty :

Redefining Yoruba Culture and Identity (Iwalewa-Haus, 1981-1996). New

Jersey : Africa World Press, Inc, 2001.

Ben-Amos, Paula. “Artistic Creativity in Benin Kingdom,” African Arts, Vol. 19, No. 3

(May 1986): 60-63, 83-84. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center.

JSTOR.

Bowden, Ross. “What Is Wrong with an Art Forgery?: An Anthropological

Perspective.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 57, No. 3

(Summer, 1999): 333-343. The American Society for Aesthetics. JSTOR.

Brent, Michel. “Faking African Art.” Archaeology 54, no. 1 (January 2001): 26.

Academic Search Complete, EBSCOhost.

Cornet, Joseph. “African Art and Authenticity,” African Arts, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Oct. 1975):

52-55. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Drewal, Henry John, John Pemberton III, and Rowland Abiodun. “Yoruba: Nine

Centuries of African Art and Thought,” African Arts, Vol. 23, No. 1 (Nov.

1989): 68-77, 104. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

“First Word.” African Arts, Vol. 9, No. 3 (April 1976): 6-7. UCLA James S. Coleman

African Studies Center. JSTOR.

“First Word.” African Arts, Vol. 20, No. 4 (Aug 1987): 1,3,6,8. UCLA James S.

Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Hackett, Rosalind I. J. “Art and Religion in Africa: Some Observations and

Reflections,” Journal of Religion in Africa, Vol. 24, Fasc. 4 (Nov. 1994):

294-308. Brill. JSTOR.

Hay, Jonathan. “Editorial: The Value of Forgery.” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics,

No. 53/54 (Spring – Autumn, 2008): 5-19. Peabody Museum of Archaeology

and Ethnology. JSTOR.

Houlberg, Marilyn Hammersley. “Collecting the Anthropology of African Art,” African

Arts, Vol. 9, No. 3 (April 1976): 15-19+91. UCLA James S. Coleman African

Studies Center. JSTOR.

Kasfir, Sidney. “African Art and Authenticity: A Text with a Shadow.” African Arts, Vol.

25, No. 2 (April 1992): 40-53, 96, 97. UCLA James S. Coleman African

Studies Center. JSTOR.

LaGamma, Alisa. “Authorship in African Art.” African Arts, Vol. 31, No. 4, Special

Issue: Authorship in African Art, Part 1 (Autumn 1998): 18-23. UCLA James

S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Lessing, Alfred. “What Is Wrong with a Forgery?” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art

Criticism, Vol. 23, No. 4 (Summer 1965): 461-471. JSTOR.

39

Maquet, Jacques. “Art by Metamorphosis.” African Arts, Vol. 12, No. 4 (Aug 1979):

32-37, 90-91. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Mungazi, Dickson A. Gathering Under the Mango Tree: Values in Traditional Culture in

Africa. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 1996.

Ross, Doran H. “True Colours, Faux Flags, and Tattered Sales.” African Arts 43, no. 2

(Summer 2010): 1-7. Academic Search Complete, EBSCOhost.

Sasser, Elizabeth Skidmore. The World of Spirits and Ancestors In the Art of Western

Sub-Saharan Africa. Texas: Texas Tech University Press, 1995.

Schmidt, Peter R. and Roderick J. McIntosh, eds. Plundering Africa’s Past. Blooming

ton: Indiana University Press, 1996.

Shelton, Marie-Denise, compiler. “Fakes, Fakers, and Fakery: Authenticity in African

Art.” African Arts, Vol. 9, No. 3 (April 1976): 20-31, 48-74, 92. UCLA James

S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Steiner, Christopher B. African Art in Transit, 100-127. Cambridge University

Press, 1994.

Willett, Frank. “True or False? The False Dichotomy,” African Arts, Vol. 9, No. 3 (April

1976): 8-14. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Yai, Olabiyi Babalola. “Tradition and the Yoruba Artist.” African Arts, Vol. 32, No. 1,

Special Issue: Authorship in African Art, Part 2 (Spring 1999): 32-35, 93.

UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center. JSTOR.

Images Notes:

1. Figure 2: Asafo flag, Fante, Ghana. Agya Amissah for No. 2 Company, Saltpond,

ca. 1940. Cotton, 105cm x 164 cm. Collected 1979. Fowler Museum at UCLA. Gift of

Nancy and Richard Bloch.

On left, termites attack bottle from Asafo phrase “Termites can destroy everything

except the bottle.” Company likens itself to the bottle. On right, winged lion based

on British griffon and its invincibility. Asafo phrase “Will you fly or will you vanish?”

applies to rivals unable to escape company’s power.

Taken from Ross, Doran H. “True Colours, Faux Flags, and Tattered Sales.” pp 6.

2. Figure 3: Asafo flag, Fante, Ghana. Kobina Badowah for No. 2 Company Santpond,

1965. Cotton, 104cm x 160cm. Collected 1981. Fowler Museum at UCLA.

Made as “copy” of above flag. White stripe in Ghanaian flag replaced the yellow one

from 1964-66. Images have same interpretation but the griffon was replaced with the

common Fante multi-headed dragon.

Taken from Ross, Doran H. “True Colours, Faux Flags, and Tattered Sales.” pp 6.

3. Figure 4: taken from Houlberg, “Collecting the

Anthropology of African Art,” African Arts, Vol. 9,

No. 3 (Apr 1976): 16.

4. Figure 5: taken from Houlberg, “Collecting the

Anthropology of African Art,” African Arts, Vol. 9,

No. 3 (Apr 1976): 17.

5. Figure 6: taken from Houlberg, “Collecting the

Anthropology of African Art,” African Arts, Vol. 9,

No. 3 (Apr 1976): 17.

40

LADY BOYJoe Paushel

Low-fire earthenwareGlazesMixed media

PAGEANT POUTJoe Paushel

Low-fire EarthenwareGlazesMixed Media

41

LAY IT ON THICKJoe Paushel

Low- fire Earthenware Glazes

Mixed Media

42

BOYS WILL BE BOYSJoe Paushel

Low-fire Earthenware Glazes Mixed Media

43

44

THE HOTEL AND THE SEISM: FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT AND THE IMPERIAL HOTEL IN TOKYO

John Fleming and Stuart Spaulding

Frank Lloyd Wright has been praised for his skill and insight as an architect.

A project that he took pride in was the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, where he

was charged with overcoming volatile seismic activity. Shortly after the

project was completed, the Great Kanto Earthquake put it to the test. The

design for the Imperial Hotel was undeniably successful when subjected

to the violent tremors. However, Wright’s explanation of the structural

systems that accounted for the building’s survival and relative success is

undoubtedly controversial. There has been much scholarship reviewing the

event, creating a confusing network of claims and counterclaims.

This paper will evaluate Robert Reitherman’s questioning rendition

of the hotel’s success, as well as Joseph Siry’s publication on the role of

the Truscon Company in its construction to render an alternative account of

the Imperial Hotel’s aseismic success. This will place it within a historically

cohesive timeline, clarify structural performance, and conclude that the

remarkable design was the product of collaborative innovations by several

parties rather than the accomplishment of a lone-genius.

The success of the Imperial Hotel during the Great Kanto

Earthquake of 1923 has had a major impact on architectural history

and widely influenced the general public. This can be attributed to its

widespread publication and, arguably, aggrandizement. The story of the

hotel quickly became a legend, though the perceived singularity of Wright’s

accomplishment was misconstrued. Wright received a radio telegram from

Tokyo that read:

Hotel stands undamaged as monument of your genius. Hundreds of homeless

provided by perfectly maintained service. Congratulations. Okura

This telegram was subsequently published in newspapers and formed the

foundation of the myth that the Imperial Hotel was the lone survivor of the

earthquake.1 In line with this hyperbolic conception, Wright explained his

success in such a way as to claim sole authorship of the aseismic design.

This aligns with his reputation for self-promotion and sensitivity to public

persona. In an explanation of the hotel, he wrote:

I spent six years on studies of earthquake conditions. It never left

my consciousness. And we solved the problem of the menace of the quake

by concluding that rigidity couldn’t be the answer, and that flexibility and

resiliency must be the answer. So we built this building. If could flex and

return to normal. And it did withstand the great quakes.

45

It should be noted that, although Wright uses the term “we”, he

did not acknowledge the contributions of other parties anywhere in the

document.2 In fact, he explicitly claims in another work that he “could get

no help from the engineer” in regard to the hotel’s structure.3 It is clear

from Wright’s writings that he claimed full credit for the hotel’s aseismic

success, and that he understood the reasons for which it survived.

Structural Evaluation

Recent scholarship, however, questions Wright’s explanation of the

hotel’s aseismic systems. Robert K. Reitherman, in his article titled “The

Seismic Legend of the Imperial Hotel”, submitted to the World Conference

on Earthquake Engineering, provides a clear evaluation of the hotel’s

earthquake resistant performance. It compares Wright’s account of effective

tactics with current industry standards to create an unbiased assessment

of the building’s capabilities.

The Waiter’s Tray

According to Wright, there were two design features integral to the hotel’s

earthquake resistance: the “waiter’s tray” floor system and the shallow

pile foundation. His intent was to have twin center supports in which

continuous cantilevered slabs run the length of the building and project

out through the exterior wall as balconies (Figure 1). He believed that this

model, transferring the load away from the exterior walls, would prevent

the floor slabs from collapsing even if those walls were disconnected.

The result was a structural model with “all supports centered

under the floor slabs . . . instead of resting the slabs on the walls at their

edges.”4 Wright believed that the building succeeded due to the continuous

concrete floor slabs resting on a central structure, allowing it to flex and

reflex, “balancing the load.”5 He describes this system as cantilevered,

yet the floors rested on exterior walls comprised of a double shell of brick

poured solid with concrete. Therefore, the result is a structural system

designed to support a cantilever from the core that performs as a one-way

span. If Wright designed the core and floor slabs to be able to bear the

expected load as a cantilever, then the addition of the exterior walls (which

turn the system into a one-way span) excessively increases the load-bearing

capacity. The structural system seems to operate as an overdesigned

version of traditional reinforced concrete building.

Figure 1

46

The Battleship

Next he addressed the problem of how to rest a monolithic mass on 60

to 70 feet of mud. He turned to the battleship as a model. He regarded

the mud as a protective layer that would dampen the tremors if the

building floated on it as “a battleship floats on salt water.”6 He theorized

that this soft, ground water laden soil would provide a flexible surface on

which the building could rest, and keeping the piles shallow and detached

from bedrock would allow the building to “ride” the seismic waves. He

rejected the common practice in Tokyo to drive deep piles into bedrock,

characterizing the practice as “a foolish rigid one.”7 The center supports

would have nine-inch diameter tapering concrete piles driven into the soil

to allow for flexing. They were spaced two feet on centers each way, over

the entire area that the wall footings extended (Figure 2). Reitherman’s

evaluation of this system is that it was a workable solution to the tremors

themselves, but over time was more harmful than alternatives could have

been. “It is likely that the underlying mud, rather than being a ‘merciful

provision- a good cushion,’ was rather an amplifier of the ground motion.”8

It was effective in that it filtered out the higher frequency tremors so the

building was only subjected to longer, slower rocking. His final conclusion,

however, is that the shallow pile foundation was the direct cause of

significant settling during and after the quake. He claimed that the short

pile foundation was “in fact the probable primary cause of the damage

experienced in 1923 from the earthquake and in subsequent years due to

ongoing settlement.

Taller buildings in Tokyo, which used deep pile foundations

(and which probably tuned in more to the ground motion due to their

greater height, and hence longer period of vibration) suffered less

damage, indicating that the usual foundation design method was a sound

approach.”9

The Kahn Trussed Bar

Another question that Wright fails to explicate in his post-quake literature

is the role of the Truscon Steel Company of Japan in the design of the

structure of the Imperial Hotel. Wright acknowledges the use of the Kahn

Trussed Bar, but does not credit Julius Kahn or the Truscon Company

with any of the hotel’s aseismic success. In an advertisement run in the

Figure 2

47

Japan Advertiser on April 13, 1924, the Truscon Company claimed that

they provided over 1,000,000 lbs of reinforcing steel for the concrete in

the hotel, and use the survival of the building as an advertisement for

their company.10 It seems that, at least from the Truscon Company’s

perspective, a portion of the success of the hotel’s earthquake resistance

should be attributed to the Kahn Trussed Bar and the design of the

reinforcing steel.

The Truscon Steel Company of Japan was a branch of the Trussed Concrete

Steel Company of Youngstown, OH and formerly of Detroit, MI. One of the

features of this company was the “Kahn Trussed Bar”, invented by Julius

Kahn. It addressed the problem of failure due to shear force in concrete

beams by adding reinforcement perpendicular to shear cracks. Kahn used

a series of experiments to observe that concrete beams tend to fail due to

shear stress, and crack at roughly 45 degree angles from the length of the

beam. His solution was to add reinforcing steel perpendicular to the places

where the beams tend to fail, creating a system that most effectively

resists shear failure. The bars themselves were created from single pieces

of rolled steel that were wide and shallow. The outermost edges were

scored and bent upward

I had fallen down on the steel deliveries I had contracted for in America and

found that the American Trading Company had a large stock of Kahn bars in

Tokio. The lightening of the roof slabs by the use of this system appealed to me,

but the furring of the ceiling entailed did not. But I consented to the redesigning

of the floors on this basis, expecting to save greatly in weight and cost.

to create the 45 degree members, but preserved the center of the steel

as a flat, straight member to resist tensile stress.11 The final result was

a cohesive steel bar that resisted both shear and tensile stress and

could be placed into concrete formwork as a single unit (Figure 3). This

particular method of reinforcing concrete is extremely effective for the

hotel’s situation. Complete detailed drawings and designs of the reinforced

concrete. . . . These drawings show clearly the exact location of each

reinforcing bar and the detailed size of all the concrete work. Each bar,

when it leaves the factory, is given a distinctive mark which corresponds

with its marking on the drawing. Each bar is designed for a distinct place in

the structure, and the builder can tell at a glance where it belongs.

Studies conducted after the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906

Figure 3v

48

concluded that most of the damage buildings usually sustain is due to

horizontal stress rather than vertical. The violent horizontal movements

of an earthquake require the vertical structure to pull the building mass in

the direction of the tremors, placing it under heavy shear stress.12 This is

specifically troublesome for concrete structures because the concrete is

only strong in compression, making it highly susceptible to destruction in

an earthquake. Therefore, the hotel’s use of the Kahn Trussed Bar, which is

specifically designed to resist shear stress, was likely a critical factor in the

hotel’s success.

It is apparent that the Truscon Company was hired sometime

during the design stage of the building, and that their system replaced a

previously existing scheme. It seems, however, that the Kahn bars were

used as a method to save money and also to decrease the weight of the

floors, and were not Wright’s first choice of material. He wrote:

The low quality of steel in Japan made it necessary for Wright to

import it from America, and it seemed that he turned to the Kahn bar only

after his own steel deliveries failed to arrive. He did not mention the Kahn

bar as an earthquake resistant feature of the construction.13

Furthermore, it is unclear as to the role of

Wright in the design and placement of the reinforcing steel. He claims

all credit for the structural integrity of the hotel, but his actual role in the

placement and sizing of the steel reinforcement is questionable. In the

award letter written by Aisaku Hayashi, the Truscon Company is quoted

to have agreed to furnish plans for the structural design of the hotel,

as well as to provide the steel itself. The Truscon Company consistently

offered the service of structural design, and this service is extremely

thorough.14 Truscon described that any building in which the Kahn system

was used was provided with the idea that Wright may have not been

directly responsible for designing the structure is further evidenced by a

correspondence between Wright and R. M. Schindler, the manager of his L.

A. office while Wright was in Japan. Schindler says, “‘the structural features

which hold the Imperial Hotel together were incorporated only after

overcoming your strenuous resistance.’”15 This would imply that the source

of the structural design of the hotel was not Wright at all, which could

indicate that the Truscon Company was very influential in the structural

composition.

49

Historical Context

Contemporary earthquake resistant design features several axioms that

have developed over time. They include base isolation, the use of a seismic

joint, reinforced exterior walls, and the act of tying together the floors and

walls.

Base isolation, in essence, is the concept of protecting a

building from seismic impact by isolating the foundation from the rest

of the structure. This tactic can be traced back to the 6th century BCE,

when buildings in an ancient Persian city were discovered to feature two

foundations: one of which was embedded in the earth and the other formed

a smooth plate that the rest of the building rested on, and, in the event of

seismic activity, the upper foundation was free to slide above the lower

one.16 It seems that Wright’s conception of the floating foundation was an

implementation of a form of base isolation, where the mud layer would act

as the isolator between the hard earth and the

What saved the Imperial was the principle of flexibility, flexible

foundations, flexible connections, flexible piping and wiring systems,

flexible continuous slabs cantilevering over supports—passing clear through

the outer walls to become balconies or projecting cornices. building. It is

likely, however, that Wright’s inspiration for the floating foundation came

from his time working with Adler and Sullivan in Chicago, rather than

ancient Persia. The condition of Chicago’s wetlands is actually very similar to

the site of the Imperial Hotel, and Wright’s design for the hotel’s foundation

is similar to John Root’s floating raft of concrete, perhaps combined with

Adler’s concrete footing foundation in the Stock Exchange Building.17

The seismic separation joint is another aseismic tactic that is

commonly employed in current must have created a stiff, rather than

‘flexible’ structure, in the usual seismic use of the word. . . . The stiffness

probably decreased the amount of nonstructural damage, and also probably

decreased the dynamic response of the building to the ground motion

earthquake resistant design. It is most often used in buildings with complex

shapes that would have an irregular seismic performance.

The designer separates the building into parts with shapes that

have predictable responses to seismic activity. Reitherman acknowledges

this feature of the hotel and calls it an early and thorough use of the seismic

separation joint. It seems that the joint, although utilized in the hotel,

was not acknowledged by Wright as particularly effective in earthquake

resistance, although it has become one of the prominent axioms of

50

aseismic design today.18

Another relevant tactic to the hotel is the outer wall construction.

The construction is similar to the filled-cavity masonry walls required in

California today. This demonstrates that the hotel showed an early use

of a currently accepted aseismic tactic. This seems contrary to Wright’s

explanation of the structure as a cantilevered system, because he is

attributing much of the success of the hotel’s survival to walls that Wright is

claiming are not load bearing. This contradiction is further evidenced in that

Wright explicitly denied the presence of reinforcing steel in the outer walls,

but Julius Hoto, the Japanese structural engineer for the project, states that

reinforcing steel was actually present in the walls.19

Wright claimed that the hotel acted as a flexible building when

he stated in “American Outwits Quakes”20 that the Truscon Company’s

influence on the hotel’s structural design shows that the connections

between floor and wall were not flexible. The drawings of the Kahn

reinforcing system show that the beams were embedded in the concrete

wall.21 The most flexible feature of the structure is the separations between

sections using the seismic separation joint. The sections are actually

relatively small, rigid forms that have a large amount of reinforcement given

their size. Reitherman’s analysis of the layout concludes that it22 thus it

seems that the actual building acted less in the way Wright described, but

more closely to the way R. F. Moss, vice president of the Truscon Company,

described when he wrote that “all parts of the foundation should be so

well connected together that all will move as a unit.”23 This implies that

the Imperial Hotel was conceptually similar to many of the other successful

buildings in Tokyo during the earthquake, the very buildings he thought were

technically misguided. Examples of this were the buildings constructed in

Tokyo by the Fuller Company where “The heavy steel skeleton was crafted

to make the whole edifice vibrate as a unit and thus suffer minimal damage,

like a monolithic concrete building.”24

Wright’s Role

Wright provided detailed and numerous explanations of the method

through which the Imperial Hotel survived the Great Kanto earthquake. Two

of his most noted tactics were the “waiter’s tray” structural system and

the “battleship” shallow foundation system. Subsequent analyses of the

51

building’s seismic survival have called the practical performance of these

tactics into question. Furthermore, evidence of the role of the Truscon Steel

Company of Japan in the structural design implies that the reinforcing steel

system in the hotel was not devised by Wright. The way in which Imperial

Hotel resisted the earthquake is full of controversy and contradiction. It

is apparent that Wright’s accounts of its success are imprecise, though

it is unclear whether it is an intentional misguidance by the architect or

an actual misunderstanding of the structure. It is possible that Wright’s

literature on the hotel’s success was intended to propagate his public

image as a “lone-genius” architect. Objectively, the hotel seems to have

actually survived due to a combination of many ideas and influences

that created a building that demonstrated an early use of contemporary

earthquake resistant tactics. Wright seemed to believe his hotel was an

anomalous engineering masterpiece, but it was within the timeline of

aseismic design development. His innovations had precedent, such as

the floating foundations in Chicago, the existing work of the Truscon Steel

Company, and the rigid monolithic construction in Tokyo. It is apparent that

the design was the product of a collaborative effort because many of the

most publicized aseismic tactics have been shown to be least effective.

However, strategies such as the exterior wall construction and employment

of the Kahn Trussed Bar in construction proved to be the most effective.

The preconceived depth of Wright’s engineering mastery is contrasted by

his misguided explanation of successful strategies. This misunderstanding

suggests that Wright collaborated with or was influenced by exterior

entities, which most likely include Adler and Sullivan, John Root, and The

Truscon Steel Company of Japan. It remains that the Imperial Hotel

survived the earthquake because it successfully employed many

earthquake resistant strategies. In this instance, Wright cannot claim the

status of groundbreaking visionary, nor can the hotel be labelled as an

exceptional feat of engineering genius. In the sole context of the Imperial

Hotel, Wright is an innovative architect within the historical timeline of

earthquake-resistant design.

52

Notes

1 Farr, F., 1961. Frank Lloyd Wright. New York: Scribner. p. 169

2 Wright, Frank Lloyd, and Donald D. Walker. 1955. An American Architecture.

New York: Horizon. p. 149.

3 Wright, Frank Lloyd, and Bruce Brooks Pfeiffer. 2008. The Essential Frank Lloyd

Wright: Critical Writings on Architecture. Princeton: Princeton UP. p. 220-21.

4 Wright, Frank Lloyd, and Donald D. Walker. 1955. An American Architecture. p. 152.

5 Ibid, p. 152.

6 Ibid, p. 150.

7 Ibid, p. 151.

8 Reitherman, Robert K. “The Seismic Legend of the

Imperial Hotel: How did it Really Fare in the Tokyo

Earthquake of 1923?” AIA Journal 1980: 43-46. p. 44.

9 Ibid, p. 44.

10 Siry, Joseph M. “The Architecture of Earthquake

Resistance: Julius Kahn’s Truscon Company and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Impe

rial Hotel”. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 67, No. 1

(March 2008), p.91.

11 Ibid, p. 80.

12 Moss, R. F.. “Lessons in Building Taught by the Japanese Earthquake Disaster,”

Engineering World 24, no. 1 (Jan. 1924), p. 22.

13 Wright, Frank Lloyd, and Bruce Brooks Pfeiffer. 2008. The Essential Frank Lloyd

Wright: Critical Writings on Architecture. p. 187.

14 Kahn System Standards: A Handbook on Reinforced Concrete. Detroit: Trussed

Concrete Steel, 1913. p. 13.

15 Reitherman, Robert K. “The Seismic Legend of the Imperial Hotel: How did it Re

ally Fare in the Tokyo Earthquake of 1923?” p. 46.

16 Jameel, Mohammed and Mohd Zamin Jumaat. “Seismic isolation in buildings

to be a practical reality: Behavior of structure and installation technique”.

Journal of Engineering and Technology Research. Vol. 3(4), pp. 99-117, April

2011.

17 Condit, Carl W. The Chicago School of Architecture; a History of Commercial and

Public Building in the Chicago Area, 1875-1925. Chicago: University of

Chicago, 1964. p. 49, 137.

18 Saunders, Mark. “Seismic Joints in Steel Frame Building Construction.” Modern

Steel. April 2005: p. 2.

19 Reitherman, Robert K. “The Seismic Legend of the Imperial Hotel: How did it Re

ally Fare in the Tokyo Earthquake of 1923?” p. 46.

53

20 “American Outwits Quakes”, Los Angeles Times, 17 Sept. 1923, pt. I, p. 6.

21 Siry, Joseph M.. The Architecture of Earthquake

Resistance: Julius Kahn’s Truscon Company and Frank Lloyd Wright’s

Imperial Hotel. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 67,

No. 1 (March 2008), p. 93.

22 Reitherman, Robert K. “The Seismic Legend of the Imperial Hotel: How did it Re

ally Fare in the Tokyo Earthquake of 1923?” p. 46, 70.

23 Siry, Joseph. “The Architecture of Earthquake

Resistance: Julius Kahn’s Truscon Company and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Impe

rial Hotel”. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 67, No. 1

(March 2008), p. 94.

24 “American Outwits Quakes”, Los Angeles Times, 17 Sept. 1923, pt. I, p. 11.

54

ARCHITECTURE RENDERINGS

Nada Shuaib

Images from mixed-use high rise design project in Seattle from the 2013 Alumni Traveling Studio.

55

56

ANGEL Brandon Lowery

57

58

The overarching tendency in the acquisition, collection, and study of

African art is to equate authenticity to notions of age; furthermore it is

to sequester the cultures from which these artworks derive into some

pre-colonial context. There is a vast amount of injustice in such a practice

and it truly limits the amount of knowledge that can be ascertained.

It forms boundaries – physical, temporal, and cerebral – that are at

once unnecessary and at the same time filled with prior self-held or

culturally placed assumptions. These assumptions may be irrelevant to

the parent culture under inspection. The recognition of these notions

and their questioning allows for a greater conversation to exist; yet, at

the same time, it creates issues as to how one is supposed to go about

a contemporary and efficient conversation on the topic of African art.

The conversation has been started. But if one is not to rely on Western

assumptions about African art or one’s own assumptions (no matter how

they may have developed), how does one know where to take this dialogue

to produce substantial meaning? I’m not sure there is an answer to the

aforementioned question. To be honest, I’m not sure there even should be.

In this paper, I am not going to attempt to redefine the field of

African art. Such a task is too impossibly large a scope for a single paper.

Instead I am going to attempt to convey the immensity of African art in a

single example –the kente cloth produced by the Ashanti [Fig. 1] – because

in this one example there is such an enormity encapsulated in such

supposed simplicity, a piece of patterned cloth. My goal is to leave one

enamored, not because of the grandeur of this example, but rather because

it is so mundane. Because if the mundane can be filled with such life, then

the implications to the extraordinary are truly limitless and perhaps that is

how African art should be defined.

Kente cloth was originally produced by the Asante (also known as

the Ashanti) although today, it has earned a more global presence. During

the seventieth century, historical circumstances relating to colonialism and

the gold trade in the once proclaimed Cold Coast led to the emergence of

distinctive kingdoms. From these various kingdoms and under the military

prowess of Osei Tutuan, an Asante Confederacy was born.1 Today, the

Asante comprise a large part of modern day Ghana and are given to the

larger group of the Akan, as they mainly speak the language given to this

1 Douglas Fraser, “Symbols of Ashanti Kingship,” in African Art & Leadership, eds.

Douglas Fraser and Herbert M. Cole (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press,

1972), 137-53.

KENTE CLOTH: THE MUNDANE AS A MARKER OF THE MARVELOUS

Victoria Azzi

59

namesake.2 It is important to note how the categorization of the Asante,

in a way, already contradicts the previously articulated assumptions about

African cultures. The Asante are a relatively young people. Not to say that

they do not have an ancestry that extends past the formal declaration of

the kingdom, but rather that a romantic notion of a pre-colonial Asante is

historically inaccurate. In fact, it is hard to know anything definitively about

the cultures that comprise the Asante, or even the larger category of the

Akan, in the pre-Islamic or even pre-colonial period.3 It is, therefore, most

beneficial to think of this culture in terms of fluidity and change, as one

should really think of all cultures. Even though there is little that can be

known about the Asante before these significant encounters, the result is

just as valid and legitimate as anything that came before.

In many ways the Asante kingdom is much like any other kingdom,

particularly insofar as an elaborate system of regalia would ensure the

respect granted to and authority of the King. And much like the adornments

associated with any European monarchy, the materiality of these objects

is often most lavish, and exceptionally so in the case of the Golden Stool;

however, sometimes the richness of tangible objects is not in the material

itself. The cloth created by the Asante, which adorns not only the King [Fig.

2] but also all manner of people, is an art unto itself; yet, set these cloth

pieces in an art museum and they will not speak beyond mere aesthetics.

Many of the groups that comprise the Akan, but particularly the Asante,

have a proliferation of items comprising their material culture that combine

verbal expressions with visual motifs.4 Communication becomes an art in

its own right. This intersection between the verbal and the visual provides

a tool for communication about the owner or wearer, as well as, instruction

for all those who are attuned to the meaning. Sometimes the associations

are merely symbolic, i.e. a lion as a symbol for bravery and power. In other

instances, the verbal phrase and corresponding imagery is much more

evocative, i.e. a spiral stylized version of a ram’s horn is reference to the

phrase, “Slow to anger but unstoppable when aroused.”5 The discourse

created by the layering of such objects is one that is vibrant and full of

nuance and very much embedded in the culture. The materialization of

2 Herbert M. Cole, “Akan Worlds,” in A History of Art in Africa, eds. Monica Black-

mun Visona, Robin Poynor, Herbert M. Cole, and Michael D. Harris (New York: Harry

M. Abrams, Inc., 2001), 194-227

3 Cole, “Akan Worlds,” 194-95.

4 Cole, “Akan Worlds,” 195-96.

5 Cole, “Akan Worlds,” 195.

Fig. 1 Ashanti, kente cloth. 20th century. Cotton

and silk woven textile. The Minneapolis Institute

of Arts, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Fig. 2 Herbert Cole, Asante Chief in regalia, with

kente cloth. 1977. Photograph. University of

California, Santa Barbara, California.

60

these objects is as vast and as varied as the proverbs and symbols that

can be represented. As before stated, sometimes this material quality is

entirely lavish, but sometimes, as seen in kente cloth, the material is subtly

inlayed with value.

Within the threads of kente cloth, the proverbs are not as readily

seen and are often instead articulated through the naming of the cloth or in

the naming of a design.6 Weavers can choose to juxtapose the names of

the designs and the cloth to create meaning; however, unlike in the cases

of gold weights or adinkra cloths, these associations are not always at the

forefront of how evaluations of value are made.7 Instead the value of kente

cloth is literally woven into it.

The process of creating even a single simply-designed piece of

kente is extremely labor-intensive and requires a large amount of training

and skill. This process has been documented in various texts and I will

attempt to convey a large part of the nuances; nevertheless, West African

narrow strip weaving is a skill that must be observed to fully gain its

magnitude, especially in the case of kente. First, West African narrow strip

weaving refers to the weaving of strips of cloth that are less than 15 inches

in width, with the intent of sewing at least two – but in most cases more –

strips together to add to this width.8 This, as one has probably gathered, is

the technique employed by the Asante to make kente cloth. Furthermore,

kente is often singled out of this category as being the most intricate and

tightly woven.9

Before the narrow strips comprising kente can even be conceived

thread has to be made. In the past, this meant hand spinning and dying

cotton or, for the more expensive pieces, repurposing the thread from silk

imports. Today, most of the thread is synthetic and mechanically produced

and dyed. But regardless of the thread type, the same techniques for

producing the strips are utilized. It is important to note that such techniques

are only taught and executed by men, often in a workshop type setting.

Ashanti women may be involved in the creation of the thread beforehand or

6 Shea Clark Smith, “Kente Cloth Motifs,” in African Arts, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Oct. 1975)

(Los Angels: UCLA James S Coleman Africn Studies Center, 1975), 36-39.

7 Smith, 39. 8 Venice Lamb and Alastair Lamb, The Lamb Collection of West African Narrow Strip

Weaving, ed. Patricia Fiske (Washington, D.C.: the Textile Museum, 1975). 9 Herbert M. Cole and Doran H. Ross, The Arts of Ghana (Los Angeles: Museum of

Cultural History, University of California, 1977), 38-47.

Fig. 3 Herbert Cole, Ghana, Bownwire: Men

Weaving Kente Cloth Strips. 1973. Photograph.

University of California, Santa Barbara, California.

61

the final decoration after; however, women are not involved with the actual

loom.10

The loom, itself, is not the most complicated piece of equipment

and can be likened to European treadle looms. It is comprised of a cloth

beam, beater/reed, heddles in pairs with heddle pulley and foot pedals

attached, and the wrap, which provides tension on one end from its

resistance on the ground. The design of the loom allows for not only easy

storage but also for the simple switching between strips, if a weaver would

decide to alternate between different pieces for any number of reasons.

Furthermore, although similar looms are used across West Africa, there is

some variation in the design and aesthetics of the parts of the loom, but

these generally have no effect on functionality.11 The process of creating a

textile involves the passing of weft thread(s) through the warp threads that

are spread apart across the loom. Foot pedals attached to the heddles are

pushed to separate the warp thread. This allows the shuttle(s) holding the

weft thread to be passed through. Then the pedals are pushed to move the

heddles again therefore reversing the warp thread position. The shuttle(s)

can then be moved through the shed. This process is completed a large

amount of times to even produce an inch of woven length [Fig. 3].

Although the loom is not a particularly complex tool, the manner

in which is utilized in the creation of kente can make the process quite

complicated. For example in a complex cloth the weaver must have a

clear conception of not only the individual pattern to be woven but also its

relationship to the other patterns, even before any threads can be attached

to the loom. Consider the afore-stated in conjunction with the fact that

there are over 300 patterns that have been documented12 and the enormity

is merely scratched. As briefly stated before, all the patterns have different

names and associations that can go beyond aesthetics if the weaver or

wearer would so choose. Furthermore, the strips that are created by the

Ashanti are normally only 4 inches in width,13 meaning a large quality of

almost nearly identical strips (probably two different types of strips that

will then be alternated) are required to give the piece overall uniformity

and symmetry [Fig. 4]. For an 8 feet by 10 feet piece of kente, twenty to

twenty-four 10-foot in length strips would have to be combined.14

10 Lamb, 19.

11 Lamb, 20-23.

12 Cole, The Arts of Ghana, 41.

13 Smith, 36.

14 Smith, 36.

Fig. 4 Herbert Cole, Ghana, Bonwire: Men

Weaving Kente Strip-Cloth. 1975. Photograph.

University of California, Santa Barbara, California.

62

The manner in which these smaller patterns are executed depends

on the pattern itself. Warp striping is the simplest method available. One or

two colors are introduced to the warp creating a strip pattern. Even here

the term simplistic seems inaccurate. Around 300 threads threaded through

two heddles and a comb create the wrap.15 Weft striping is a bit more

complex. Strips can be created through the horizontal or weft direction by

varying the color used. Different weight threads may also be introduced

during this method to add variation. The most complex of the methods

utilized by the Ashanti is the supplementary weft pattering technique.

Best used for the creation of the elaborate patterns favored by the Asante,

designs are inlaid by utilizing supplementary wefts in the same shed with

the ground weft and no extra heddles are required. But only adding to the

complexity, extra heddles are often utilized. This utilization allows for the

supplementary weft to float on the face of the strip in the formation of the

pattern.16 The patterns are often executed numerous times in the same

strip and as aforementioned then may be attached to strips with the same

pattern again. This means that clean and accurate execution is paramount.

As it now can clearly be understood, this connection to the time and skill

involved in the creation of kente cloth is a large part of the derivation of its

value. In some cases, the inclusion of silk does in fact add a material-based

value. In large part, however, the materiality becomes secondary to notions

of complexity and execution. What at first may seem mundane, simply

clothing, becomes a piece of skilled and nuanced craft that has an intended

aesthetic value elevating it to art [Fig. 5]. Yet, the museum context certainly

limits this understanding.

Hung as tapestries, it is easy for most viewers to see and

appreciate the aesthetics. The brilliant coloration only enhances this effect.

But if the cloths are nested in their parent culture, they are worn, adding a

movement and vitality that is otherwise lost. Furthermore, the museum is

unable to capture the amount of skill required to create even a single strip,

let alone an entire piece of kente, something that would be understood

in Asante society. In fact, until relatively recently, kente cloth was worn

largely as an indication of one’s standing in society because it was so labor

intensive and therefore costly.17 But perhaps the largest injustice that

contemporary museum culture places on kente cloth is in its isolation in,

15 Smith, 36.

16 Lamb, 9.

17 Peter Adler and Nicholas Barnard, “The Ashanti Cloth,” in African Majesty: The

Textile Art of the Ashanti and Ewe (London: Thames and Hudson Ltd, 1992).

Fig. 5 Herbert Cole, Retinue with Ghanian

woman wearing royal kente cloth and gold

regalia. 1986. Photograph. University of

California, Santa Barbara, California.

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and confinement to, the past.

I began this discussion by saying cultures should always be seen

in fluid terms. Kente, as an item of culture and art, should not be limited to

its mere traditional sense. It should not only be viewed as an art object or

an ethnographic object; but even further, kente should not be sequestered

to a specific period in time. Kente is still a significant part of a living culture.

Kente and its variations are still worn by the people of the Asante. Life and

death occur in these textiles. Battles of culture and identity are waged –

within the Asante homeland and abroad.18 Kente in its artistic brilliance,

historical depth, complex creation, cultural significance, or even in its

mundane reality becomes much more than a series of woven threads.19

There is much more to kente than can be grasped. And if it is not yet clear

that what may at first seem like a mundane item from a distant culture is in

fact much more extraordinary, kente cloth was even declared the National

Cloth of Ghana in 1959.20 Through this declaration kente has made the

transition from a seemingly mundane cultural object to an emblem of a

modernizing nation state. It has successfully transcended any temporal or

strict culturally placed attachments and has transitioned with fluidity and the

timelessness often associated with “High” art.

Taking this into consideration, it is not in the least bit surprising

that kente has become a motif or point of inspiration for many

contemporary Ghanaian artists.21 I think there could be a strong argument

made, if there was any remaining doubt about kente’s role as not just a

culturally utilitarian and aesthetic object or national symbolic object but

an art object, that kente fits into canonical inspiration for African artists

and non-African artists and therefore holds significance that is evident

in its aesthetic qualities. The new manifestations of kente at times may

“cheapen” its value, but even in such cases, its appropriation signals an

18 Debra J. Dickerson, “Kente Cloth Politics: The White Man’s Ice, Know-Nothing-

ness, and Black Futility,” in The End of Blackness (New York: Anchor Books, 2004),

124-247.

19 John Picton, “Seeing and Wearing: Textiles in West Africa,” in The Poetics of

Cloth: African Textiles/ Contemporary Art, ed. Lynn Grumpet (New York City: Grey Art

Gallery, New York University, 2008).

20 Kofi Anyidoho, “Ghanaian Kente: Cloth and Song,” in The Poetics of Cloth: Afri-

can Textiles/ Contemporary Art, ed. Lynn Grumpet (New York City: Grey Art Gallery,

New York University, 2008).

21 Anyidoho, 39-40.

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appreciation – even if misplaced.22

So much more could be said about any of the roles kente fulfils

as listed above and the discussion was by no means exhaustive. Which

brings the point home once again, kente is a piece of cloth. In the most

basic sense it is nothing more than cross-woven thread. But the beauty that

comes from it, although very aesthetically derived, makes the mundane

quite marvelous [Fig. 6]. Kente is filled with so much vitality because

it not only the material reality of history, but also the material worn by

many people as history happens. Its value cannot be understood through

materialistic terms but through terms of time. Whether that time is in

the creation of a single piece of kente, in the historical roots of the kente

tradition, or in the amount of time a person spent living in the cloth. Kente

exists in a state of duality. There is nothing so marvelous about kente that

would negate its mundane utilitarian function; yet at the same time, there

is something so powerful that if it were not recognized as something

significantly more important a great amount of beauty and knowledge

would be lost.

22 Pamela McClusky, “An Art of Persuasion Regalia From the Asante Kingdom,” in

Art From Africa: Long Steps Never Broke A Back (Seattle: Seattle Art Museum, 2002),

79-113.

Fig. 6 Ghanaian, Kente Cloth: (Mmaaban, “unity

is strength”). Woven textile. Seattle Art Museum,

Seattle, Washington.

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