FORUM
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The Forum is an opportunity for readers to interact with the magazine on the major issues confronting the tribal arts community. To participate in an ongoing discussion of these and other topics, go to the Letters section.
The Editorial of our Summer / Autumn 1999 issue.
Enthusiasm for tribal art does not necessarily entail travel to the places where it is or once was made and used, but many people-be they scholars, collectors, dealers, or simply curious-find that such travel greatly enhances their understanding. Indeed, sometimes curiosity about a place engenders a passion for its art. To some, art is the clue to the people; to others, the people are the clue to the art. In either case, the growing interest in what what can be called "ethno-tourism" deserves attention in journals such as this one. A member of our staff who recently returned from a relatively remote destination wished to share some thoughts on the subject.
Travel within the actual world of tribal arts, unlike reading this magazine, entails being seen as well as seeing. We travel to observe, and yet our presence and our actions are closely watched. We are not quite Martians, but we are visitors from a strange and different world. Our behavior can communicate ideas as clearly as our words can.
A primary reason for being in Mali, or Madagascar, or the Marquesas, is that we are trying to reach beyond our own culture, to absorb the sights and sounds of a place we met first through its art. If dances are performed for us on demand, for payment, we may worry about a lack of "authenticity." However, we are seeing masks and musical instruments in use, which we would not see otherwise. We are also telling our hosts that they have something that outsiders value. This is a transaction, and we negotiate a compromise. They perform at our convenience, and allow us to take photographs. This is not fake; it is a deliberate simulation known as such to all parties.The one thing most visitors to these "developing" or "emerging" nations have more of than do the local inhabitants is money. And by definition-or we would not be there-they have something we want. In some cases that something may be a material object, and of course money will change hands. But sometimes what we want to take away with us is not a carving but simply a photograph, even one as innocuous as an image of something that provides context or documentation for a material object.
In the Mahafaly region of southern Madagascar, for example, enormous ancestral tombs have been built at enormous expense. Most of a family's wealth is spent to erect these tombs. Here, the hereafter is where it's at. Not many travelers brave the rigors of travel in that area, but those who do have come to see these tombs. Postcards sold in the local airport proclaim Madagascar, pays de l'art de la sépulture (region of the art of the tomb). So why shouldn't the family be paid for allowing photographs of their tombs? We are on their land, photographing their property. Sometimes the only payment desired is a copy of the photograph, which can be a rare treasure among people without Kodaks.
By offering compensation for dances, for other activities performed on demand, for taking photographs of things that might not otherwise be accessible to us, we are saying "You have something we value." It has been relatively easy to justify the conservation of natural resources, the flora and fauna, of places like Madagascar. But it is also essential to conserve the human resources; not only physical survival, but also cultural survival, in this rapidly changing world.
Jonathan Fogel