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Oh,
What a Blow That Phantom Gave Me! by Edmund Carpenter
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Toronto,
Canada;
1965
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 translated to hypermedia and edited by Michael Wesch 2002 |