Contrary to much
that has been written, stone carvings made by modern Canadian Eskimos
do not constitute an indigenous art newly discovered but ancient in origin.
These carvings came into being after 1949, as the direct result of the
teachings & promotions of James Houston, an artist representing first
the Canadian Handicraft Guild & later the Canadian government. The
carvings share little with traditional Eskimo art or even with Alaskan
or Greenlandic souvenirs, though they do show marked resemblances to Houston's
own art work. Full credit goes to him, not for liberating a repressed
talent, but for creating a new, delightful art that brings financial assistance
to needy Eskimos & joy to many Western art connoisseurs. Most of these carvings
are massive, heavy & fragile, designed to be set in place & viewed
by strangers. The traditional role of art is gone: object has replaced
art. Traditional perspective is gone: stability & single perspective
have replaced mobility & multiple perspective. Traditional notions
of discovery & revealing are gone: asked by the Queen how he decided
what to carve, an Eskimo replied that he consulted Mr. Houston because
he had no desire to produce anything unsalable. That Eskimos could
move into a new art form with ease & success is significant: clearly
old resources combined with new notions of individualism. That the government
should promote this art is understandable: such publicity increased Eskimo
income, helped certain government agencies & policies, and appealed
to Canadian nationalism. What is less commendable
is the acceptance of this propaganda as reliable and this art as "Eskimo."
To link art with souvenirs seems equally misplaced. "It's the power
of belief," writes Froelich Rainey, "which makes all the difference
between original native art and contemporary native crafts." Can the word Eskimo legitimately be applied to this modern stone art? I think not. Its roots are Western; so is its audience. Some carvers have been directly trained by Houston; others follow a governmental manual. Carvings are produced by Eskimos working at craft centers in the north and by tubercular Eskimos in southern sanatoriums. Not a few are made by Chinese in Hong Kong, a competition that led the Canadian government to put labels of "authenticity" on Eskimo-made carvings. The following news item shows how complicated even this became:
In addition to carving
stone, Eskimos were trained to make totem poles, pottery & prints,
though all were alien to Eskimo culture. Production of totem poles was
abandoned and pots sold poorly, but prints proved enormously popular.
They combined Siberian designs with techniques learned directly from Japanese
printmakers. By error, Siberian designs were included in a booklet on
Canadian native designs and Eskimos were given this booklet for reference.
Many Eskimo prints displayed in art museums & printed on Christmas
cards owe their forms to this error. That Eskimo artists
have the desire & confidence to improvise is a happy situation. I
regret, however, that the new ideas & materials they employ are supplied
by us, not selected by them. We let the Eskimos know what we like, then
congratulate them on their successful imitations of us. What shall we call
this new art? Eskimo? If so, what does that word mean? In the United States,
many of the plastic Christian art objects are produced by Jews: plastic
Jesuses for dashboards; grains of sand from the Red Sea embedded in plastic
cubes with the caption: "He trod on this"; even a plastic do-it-yourself
crucifixion kit. The fact that Jews make these doesn't mean they are Jewish
art. They remain Christian art - made for, used by & believed in solely
by Christians. Eskimo art is made
for, used by & believed in solely by Westerners - that is, until recently.
Now it also serves to give identity to the Eskimo themselves. Having deprived
the Eskimo of his heritage, even memory of this heritage, we offer him
a substitute which he eagerly accepts, for no other is permitted. And
so he takes his place on stage, side by side with the American Indian
whose headdress comes from a mail-order catalogue, who learned his dances
at Disneyland & picked up his philosophy from hippies. He knows no
other identity, and when he is shown the real treasures of his culture,
when he hears the old songs & reads the ancient words, he aggressively
says, "It's a lie, a white man's lie. Don't tell me who I am or who
my ancestors were. I know." |
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Pages
103-105
Oh, What a Blow That Phantom Gave Me! by Edmund Carpenter Holt, Rinehart and Winston - New York, Chicago, San Francisco Copyright 1972, 1973 by Edmund Carpenter |
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Translated
to hypermedia and edited by Michael Wesch
2002
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