Master of Arts: New Work by Howard Morphy
Two weeks ago in Charlottesville
I had the great good fortune to receive an advance copy of Howard Morphy's
latest monograph, Becoming Art: exploring cross-cultural
categories (Berg,
2007). This new book is like a river stone, its arguments polished by years of
being turned over in the author's mind, flashing with brilliance; it is an
opportunity for extensive and satisfying contemplation and of great utility to
students of aesthetics and epistemology, anthropology, art theory and history,
and cultural studies.
Among Morphy's earlier
monographs have been deep studies of Yolngu ritual, in
Journey to the Crocodile's Nest: an accompanying monograph
to the film Madarrpa Funeral at
Gurka'wuy
(Aboriginal Studies Press,
1984), and Yolngu art, in Ancestral
Connections: art and an Aboriginal system of
knowledge (Chicago,
1992). Readers already familiar with those seminal investigations will find
their themes extended in
Becoming
Art as Morphy looks at ways of
integrating Yolngu systems of thought into broader, more world-encompassing
(i.e. cross-cultural) perspectives. Readers new to Morphy's work will be
delighted by an erudite but accessible introduction to Morphy's research.
Whereas the earlier works were undoubtedly written for an audience of
anthropologists, I believe that Morphy here seeks to reach a broader audience,
much as the book itself looks to move the world of the Yolngu into a larger
arena.The nominal
focus of the book is Yolngu art, which Morphy has studied for thirty-five years.
However, its scope is vast, comprehending in its well-illustrated 200 pages many
of the questions raised in the compendious
The Anthropology of Art: a
reader (Blackwell,
2006) that Morphy edited and published last year. He asks us to question overly
narrow definitions of art, especially what he terms the "exclusionary rules" by
which the Western category of "fine art" is determined. In doing so, he charts
an understanding of art across cultures that will allow us to better understand
the art of the Yolngu.
In order to understand the trajectory of Indigenous Australian art, it is important to consider the kind of thing art is to the producing societies and how that influences the relationships that Indigenous Australians see between artworks and the conclusions that they draw from those relationships. By making Indigenous art discourse part of the data of art history and critically examining the ontological concepts and their relationship to practice, we should become aware of conceptual similarities and differences between different traditions. And in the case of different art traditions that occupy the same temporal space we should be able to better understand how they articulate with one another--in the case of Aboriginal art, how Indigenous artists embrace contemporary Australian art worlds (p. 145).
Or as he
aphoristically sums up a fundamental principle early in the book, "there is a
dialectic between common humanity and particular ways of being human. It is the
common humanity that creates the possibility of anthropology; it is the
diversity of humanity that makes it necessary" (p.
7).That latter
quotation appears in the introductory chapter of
Becoming
Art, which is entitled
"Cross-cultural Categories and the Inclusion of Aboriginal Art." It is in some
ways the most daunting chapter of the book, as in setting the stage for the
development of subsequent arguments, it addresses critical definitions, and
relies on the reader's willingness to engage to an extent in matters of
anthropological theory more than considerations of Aboriginal art
per
se.
But for readers whose
primary interest lies in the field of Aboriginal culture, this chapter fully
repays the investment as Morphy relates his theme of cross-cultural study not
just to art, but to land rights, to the legacy of colonization and colonialism,
to the history of collecting by scholars and museums, and to the controversies
over the presentation of Indigenous art as either "fine art" or "ethnographic
curiosity." Moreover, it is studded with sudden insights that cut through years
of abstruse argument in these areas, as when he suggests that "the category of
fine art is not a category of objects but a way of viewing objects that are
prized exemplars of aesthetic value or, in the case of some more recent works
(following from Dada and Duchamp), conceptual significance" (p.
20).The next three
chapters form "A Short History of Yolngu Art." Morphy begins by tracing the
history of Yolngu contact with outsiders, largely from the second decade of the
twentieth century, and examining the records of Yolngu material culture that
emerged from those encounters through the work of missionaries and
anthropologists like Donald Thomson. A subtle awareness permeates this part of
the book of the fortunate circumstances that have allowed what history we have
of the Yolngu to have emerged as it did. The relatively recent contact and the
early participation in that contact by the enlightened and sympathetic Thomson
(and the equally sympathetic missionaries Webb, Chaseling, and Wells) spared the
Yolngu from the depredations of social Darwinism that plagued other parts of
Australia. In the
Centre, it was not until Frank Gillen turned his attention to the Arrernte that
much consideration was given to recording Indigenous culture, and even then, it
was with the presumption that it represented only a more primitive stage in
human evolution, worthy only in how it recorded what we no longer were. By
contrast, early studies of Yolngu art have granted an unprecedented scrutiny to
the subject for what it revealed about a society that was recognized as holding
complex and sophisticated traditions of its
own.Moving beyond this
period of early contact, Morphy examines the emergence of bark painting into the
marketplace, in the first place as an economic engine for the support of the
mission communities. Later, as the work became familiar to audiences in the
southern cities, there began the process of exhibition in galleries and museums
in Australia, as well as abroad through the work of advocates like Karel Kupka.
Complementing this growing engagement by outsiders with Yolngu art was the
interest of the Yolngu themselves in deploying their art as a means of reaching
out to white Australia. The Elcho Island Memorial, the Yirrkala Church Panels,
and finally the Bark Petition were all important demonstrations of Yolngu belief
in the ability of their artwork to cross cultural boundaries and communicate
their concerns to a broader
audience.The final
chapter of this first section, "Dialogue and Change," charts the growing
acceptance, through the work of Tony Tuckson and Stuart Scougall, of Indigenous
art in Western institutions of fine art, especially as represented by the
collections of major Australian museums. But it also looks at the way this
engagement altered the forms and techniques of Yolngu art production. In this
respect, Morphy's outline becomes art history in the conventional, Western
sense, examining changes over time in production, materials, and subject matter.
As he does so, he is able to remind us once again how the lens of "fine art" has
successively refocused through time, not just (spatially) with regard to
indigenous traditions worldwide but also with the production of aesthetic
objects
within
Western traditions as yesterday's masterpiece becomes tomorrow's embarrassment.
The next section of
Becoming
Art, "Engaging with Art
History" builds from this base. Morphy begins with a chapter that offers a
primer in the understanding of Yolngu art from within Yolngu traditions and from
a Yolngu perspective. It encapsulates some of the material presented in detail
in Ancestral
Connections. Its concentrated
format provides an excellent introduction to the complexities of Yolngu
conventions in painting, examining the connections between designs, clans, and
country, and also elucidating the ways in which (as in Western art history
again) one is able to create "sets" of artworks on the basis of such
elements.What follows
next is the most surprising and in some ways satisfying chapter of the book,
"Style and Meaning: Abelam Art Through Yolngu Eyes." Any treatise that attempts
to present an ethnographically alien style of (for instance) art always walks
the fine line between the familiar and the strange. Too much of the former
risks overemphasizing common humanity, too much of the latter, our diversity;
too much of either inevitably does some violence to the complexity and the
problems of extending understanding across the cultural
divide.Morphy neatly
avoids this trap and provides a wonderful example of the struggle to achieve
cross-cultural comprehension by presenting the history of a conversation that
occurred in 1976 in which the great Yolngu artist Narritjin Maymuru, his son
Banapana, Morphy, and Morphy's academic advisor, Anthony Forge, took part.
Forge's own area of study was the art of the Abelam people of Papua New Guinea.
The Abelam have little to say about the content of their paintings and do not
relate them to mythic stories or cultural histories in a way that corresponds to
either Yolngu or Western methods of organizing either the thematic or
iconographic elements of their art. By allowing us to witness the manner in
which Narritjin and Banapana "make sense" of the images of Abelam art, Morphy
allows us to gaze at a reflection of our own attempts to bridge such divisions,
to observe the strategies by which we may be able to approach an understanding
of what we mean by art, how we define its elements, and how we interpret
it.This episode of
cross-cultural investigation leads to Morphy's discussion of "Art Theory and Art
Discourse Across Cultures." In this chapter he attempts to look at the
distinctive ways in which anthropology and art history have tried to approach
the art object, often unnecessarily and self-defeatingly working at cross
purposes to one another. With respect to the art object the disciplines have
too often emphasized their differences rather than what they have in common.
Morphy wants instead to deploy the techniques of anthropology "to develop an art
history that is sensitive to the different ontologies of art
cross-culturally--to different ways in which people talk about and conceive of
artworks" (p. 145).He
also illuminates the cross-cultural examination of artworks by contrasting the
manner in which Kuninjku and Yolngu arts organize themselves. Here again,
readers of Ancestral
Connections and Luke Taylor's
major study of Kuninjku art, Seeing the Inside: bark painting in Western Arnhem
Land (Oxford, 1996)
will find themselves on familiar ground, although the synthesis of the
differences in the traditions that Morphy offers here is enlightening
(especially after the preceding discussion of Abelam art). Less experienced
students of the art of Arnhem Land will find this a valuable lesson in the
distinctions that exist in the art of the Top End. Thoughtful readers in either
category will be encouraged to consider this cross-cultural approach more
broadly within the realm of Indigenous
art.The book's final
section, "Yolngu Art and the Chimera of Fine Art," returns to the themes
expounded in the preliminary chapters and looks back over the questions that
still vex many discussions of Indigenous Australian art. Although it is widely
accepted that Aboriginal art has a place in the cultural constructs of the
Western art world, its markets and museums, there is still much disagreement
among the commentariat about what exactly that place is and how the art is to be
handled there. (I am somewhat abashed to admit to having reiterated some of
these arguments myself over the years of writing
here.)These
disagreements manifest themselves in the physical arrangement and presentation
of Indigenous art in the Western spaces given over to culture, in museums and
galleries. Although the question of whether to include Indigenous artworks is
largely settled, it still informs debates over the presentation and display of
objects in art museums. Is Indigenous art better served by being segregated
from other types, as Renaissance art is from Modernism? Is it appropriate to
include detailed information in the display that provides cultural context,
explicates meaning or utility? Or does such ethnographic data distract from the
aesthetic contemplation of form, or worse still, implicitly devalue the
object?Morphy engages
with these questions in a large part, I believe, to silence them. The question
is not one of "art or ethnography," as though these categories are mutually
exclusive and inherently hostile. We do not need to decide for one or the
other, but to recognize that the perspectives that inform each enhance our
appreciation overall. The understanding of an art object from Yolngu country
placed in a Sydney gallery benefits from the inclusion or the availability of
cultural contextual material that the audience or viewer does not bring with
him, in the manner that he brings an understanding of Christianity, visual
perspective, or Romanticism to the gallery, however unconsciously. Providing
information about the ownership of clan designs does not, or should not,
constitute an identification of the painting in which they appear with an
inferior aesthetic.On
occasion, the segregation of Indigenous art within the gallery may be a means of
enhancing a culturally appropriate understanding; indeed, segregation of Dhuwa
from Yirritja paintings may be just as appropriate. The converse is also true,
of course, when the juxtaposition of traditions assists in comprehending
something larger about the nature of art. And it is to this point that Morphy
wants to direct us. As suggested earlier, the concept of "fine art" is a
misleading one. It is itself, even within the Western tradition, a recent
invention, as culturally bound as Yolngu representational strategies, but far
more problematic when it reduces the field of vision and discards large and
potentially valuable compasses of
experience.Morphy is
concerned with breaking down barriers. He sees this book as a "journey
connecting Yolngu art to more general discourses about art" (p. 171). Perhaps
even more importantly, he wants to bring Yolngu discourse about art into an even
larger conversation. He hopes that we can come to not simply see Yolngu art for
what it is in its own context, but to hear what Yolngu have to say about their
art and by extension about their culture, their civilization. In the uneven and
unequal dialogue between cultures that has occurred in Australia over years
since colonization began, the Indigenous people have learned a great deal more
about the culture of the colonizers than Europeans have learned about
them.The Yolngu have,
since the beginning of contact nearly a century ago (and indeed with the
Macassans in centuries preceding) used their art as a means of reaching out to
the aliens in their midst. Morphy's book is a quietly passionate plea for us to
construct categories of knowledge that will encompass their ideas, so that we
may better recognize our common humanity and respect our human differences. He
hopes that this will happen not only in art galleries and museums, but in part
on the basis of such recognition as may occur in those spaces, in all of the
many other arenas in which Yolngu and
balanda
meet, in which Indigenous and settler Australians are joined.
Posted: Sat
- December
15, 2007 at 11:40 PM
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A collection of personal reflections and readings on the art of the indigenous people of Australia, their culture, anthropological studies, the art market, and whatever else strays across the cultural horizon.
If you don't wish to leave comments on the blog itself please fee free to contact me directly. Will Owen
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Published On: Dec 16, 2007 12:01 AM
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