Chapter I: Part 1

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INSTITUTTET
FOR SAMMENLIGNENDE
KULTURFORSKNING

SERIE B: SKRIFTER

VIII

FRANZ BOAS: PRIMITIVE ART

OSLO 1927

H. ASCHEHOUG & CO. (W. NYGAARD)

LEIPZIG PARIS LONDON

OTTO HARRASSOWITZ HONORÉ CHAMPION WILLIAMS & NORGATE, LTD.

CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS

INSTITUTTET
FOR SAMMENLIGNENDE KULTURFORSKNING

PRIMITIVE ART

BY

FRANZ BOAS

PROFESSOR OF ANTHROPOLOGY AT COLUMBIA
UNIVERSITY IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK

OSLO 1927

H. ASCHEHOUG & CO. (W. NYGAARD)

LEIPZIG PARIS LONDON

OTTO HARRASSOWITZ HONORÉ CHAMPION WILLIAMS & NORGATE, LTD.

CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS

PRINTED IN NORWAY

DET MALLINGSKE BOGTRYKKERI

PREFACE

This book is an attempt to give an analytical description of the fundamental traits of primitive art. The treatment given to the subject is based on two principles that, I believe, should guide all investigations into the manifestations of life among primitive people: the one the fundamental sameness of mental processes in all races and in all cultural forms of the present day; the other, the consideration of every cultural phenomenon as the result of historical happenings.

There must have been a time when man’s mental equipment was different from what it is now, when it was evolving from a condition similar to that found among the higher apes. That period lies far behind us and no trace of a lower mental organization is found in any of the extant races of man. So far as my personal experience goes and so far as I feel competent to judge ethnographical data on the basis of this experience, the mental processes of man are the same everywhere, regardless of race and culture, and regardless of the apparent absurdity of beliefs and customs.

Some theorists assume a mental equipment of primitive man distinct from that of civilized man. I have never seen a person in primitive life to whom this theory would apply. There are slavish believers in the teachings of the past and there are scoffers and unbelievers; there are clear thinkers and muddleheaded bunglers; there are strong characters and weaklings.

The behavior of everybody, no matter to what culture he may belong, is determined by the traditional material he handles, and man, the world over, handles the material transmitted to him according to the same methods.

Our traditional experience has taught us to consider the course of objective events as the result of definite, objective causation. Inexorable causality governs here and the outer world cannot be influenced by mental conditions. Hence our hesitating wonder at the phenomena of hypnotism and suggestion in which these lines seem no longer sharply drawn. Our cultural environment has impressed this view upon our minds so deeply that we assume as a fundamental fact that material phenomena, particularly outside of the field of human behavior, can never be influenced by mental, subjective processes. Still, every ardent wish implies the possibility of fulfilment and prayers for objective benefits or for help do not differ in principle from the attempts of primitive man to interfere with the uncontrollable course of nature. The credulity with which fantastic theories bearing upon health are accepted, the constant rise of religious sects with abstruse dogmatic tenets, as well as the fashions in scientific and philosophic theory prove the weakness of our claim to a rational view of the world.

Anyone who has lived with primitive tribes, who has shared their joys and sorrows, their privations and their luxuries, who sees in them not solely subjects of study to be examined like a cell under the microscope, but feeling and thinking human beings, will agree that there is no such thing as a “primitive mind”, a “magical” or “prelogical” way of thinking, but that each individual in “primitive” society is a man, a woman, a child of the same kind, of the same way of thinking, feeling and acting as man, woman or child in our own society.

Investigators are too apt to forget that the logics of science,—that unattainable ideal of the discovery of pure relations of cause and effect, uncontaminated by any kind of emotional bias as well as of unproved opinion,—are not the logics of life. The feelings underlying taboo are ever-present among us. I remember that as a boy, when receiving instruction in religion,—that is in dogma,—I had an insuperable inhibition against uttering the word “God”, and I could not be brought to answer a question that required the answer “God”. If I had been older I should have searched for and found a personally satisfying explanation for this inhibition. Everyone knows by experience that there are actions he will not perform, lines of thought that he will not follow, and words that he will not utter, because the actions are emotionally objectionable, or the thoughts find strong resistances and involve our innermost life so deeply that they cannot be expressed in words. We are right in calling these social taboos. It requires only a dogmatic standardization to transform them into true taboos.

And magic? I believe if a boy should observe someone spitting on his photograph and cutting it to pieces he would feel duely outraged. I know if this should have happened to me when I was a student, the result would have been a duel and I should have done my level best to do to my adversary _in natura_ what he had done to me _in effigie_ and I should have considered my success as a compensation for the harm done me;—all this without any psychoanalytic meaning. I do not believe that my feelings would have differed much from those of other young men. Again a standardization and dogmatization would bring us right back to “magical” attitudes.

Dr. Tozzer’s[1] collection of superstitions of College students with the enlightening remarks by those who hold the beliefs will be read with profit by all those who are convinced of our mental superiority and the lack of ability of clear thinking among the primitives.

[1] A. M. Tozzer, Social Origins and Social Continuities, New York, 1925, pp. 242 et seq.

Still other considerations should caution us against the assumption of a radical difference between primitive and civilized mentality. We like to see this distinction in greater individual mental freedom from social bondage expressed in a free critical attitude that makes possible individual creativeness.

Our much admired scientific training has never proved a safeguard against the seductiveness of emotional appeals, just as little as it has prevented the acceptance as gospel truth of the grossest absurdities, if presented with sufficient energy, self assertion and authority. If anything, the late war with its organized governmental and private propaganda should make us understand this truth. Opinions energetically propagated and spurious facts diligently disseminated color the thinking of the people, and not only of the uneducated. The intellectual is deceived as easily as the untutored by sanctimonious professions that conform to the moral code of time and place and flatter the feeling of self-righteousness. They gloss over the conflict of deed and word and, when uttered by those in authority, make criminals appear like saints.

Our advantage over primitive people is one of greater knowledge of the objective world, painfully gained by the labor of many generations, a knowledge which we apply rather badly and which we, or at least most of us, discard just as soon as a strong emotional urge impels us to do so, and for which we substitute forms quite analogous to those of primitive thought.

The much maligned introspective psychology proves to the unbiased observer that the causes that make primitive man think as he does, are equally present in our minds. The particular behavior in each case is determined by the traditional knowledge at the disposal of the individual.

* * * * *

The second fundamental point to be borne in mind is that each culture can be understood only as an historical growth determined by the social and geographical environment in which each people is placed and by the way in which it develops the cultural material that comes into its possession from the outside or through its own creativeness. For the purpose of an historical analysis we treat each particular problem first of all as a unit, and we attempt to unravel the threads that may be traced in the development of its present form. For this reason we may not start our inquiries and interpretations, as though the fundamental thesis of a single unilineal development of cultural traits the world over, of a development that follows everywhere the same lines, had been definitely proven. If it is claimed that culture has run such a course, the assertion must be proven on the basis of detailed studies of the historical changes in single cultures and by the demonstration of analogies in their development.

It is safe to say that the critical study of recent years has definitely disproved the existence of far-reaching homologies which would permit us to arrange all the manifold cultural lines in an ascending scale in which to each can be assigned its proper place.

On the other hand dynamic conditions exist, based on environment, physiological, psychological, and social factors, that may bring forth similar cultural processes in different parts of the world, so that it is probable that some of the historical happenings may be viewed under more general dynamic viewpoints.

But historical data are not available and when prehistoric research does not reveal sequences of cultural changes, the only available method of study is the geographical one, the study of distribution. This has been emphasized in the last third of the past century by Friedrich Ratzel. It has probably been most rigidly developed in the United States. I illustrated this method in 1891 by a study of the distribution of folk-tales in North America[2] and it has become more and more the method of analytical study of cultural forms.

[2] Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. IV, pp. 13-20; also Science, Vol. XII (1888), pp. 194-196.

Its very fruitfulness, however, has led to extremes in its application that should be guarded against. I pointed out, in print in 1911 and often before and since that time in speaking, that there is a certain homology between universal distribution of cultural facts and their antiquity. The fundamental principle involved in this assumption was fully discussed by Georg Gerland in 1875,[3] although we are hardly ready to accept his conclusions. The data of prehistoric archaeology prove that some of these universal achievements go back to paleolithic times. Stone implements, fire and ornaments are found in that period. Pottery and agriculture, which are less universally distributed, appear later. Metals, the use of which is still more limited in space, are found still later.

[3] Anthropologische Beiträge, Halle a/S, pp. 401 et seq.

Recent attempts have been made to raise to a general principle this point of view which, with due caution, may be applied here and there. Herbert Spinden in his reconstruction of American prehistoric chronology, Alfred Kroeber in his analysis of cultural forms of the Pacific Coast, and quite recently Clark Wissler have built up, founded on this principle a system of historic sequences that appear to me as quite untenable. That widely distributed cultural traits develop special forms in each particular area is a truism that does not require any proof. That these local developments may be arranged in a chronological series, that those of the most limited distribution are the youngest, is only partially true. It is not difficult to find phenomena that center in a certain region and dwindle down at the outskirts, but it is not true that these invariably arise on an ancient substratum. The converse is often true, that an idea emanating from a center is diffused over a wide area. Neither may the origin always be looked for in the area of the strongest development. In the same way as we find animals surviving and flourishing in regions far distant from the locality in which they developed, so cultural traits may be transferred and find their highest expression in regions far away from their origin. The bronze castings of Benin; the wood carvings of New Zealand; the bronze work of ancient Scandinavia; the giant stone work of Easter Island; the early cultural development of Ireland and its influences over Europe are examples of this kind.

Equally unsafe are the methods used by Fritz Graebner and Pater W. Schmidt who claim the stability of certain very old and, as I fear, fictitious correlations between cultural traits.

It is probably not necessary to point out the utter inadequacy of Elliott Smith’s attempt to reduce all ethnological phenomena to a single, and anthropologically speaking, late source and to assume a permanence of cultural forms that exists nowhere.

It has often been observed that cultural traits are exceedingly tenacious and that features of hoary antiquity survive until the present day. This has led to the impression that primitive culture is almost stable and has remained what it is for many centuries. This does not correspond to the facts. Wherever we have detailed information we see forms of objects and customs in constant flux, sometimes stable for a period, then undergoing rapid changes. Through this process elements that at one time belonged together as cultural units are torn apart. Some survive, others die, and so far as objective traits are concerned, the cultural form may become a kaleidoscopic picture of miscellaneous traits that, however, are remodelled according to the changing spiritual background that pervades the culture and that transforms the mosaic into an organic whole. The better the integration of the elements the more valuable appears to us the culture. I believe that it may be said that the coherent survival of cultural features that are not organically connected is exceedingly rare, while single detached elements may possess marvellous longevity.

* * * * *

In the present book the problem of growth of individual art styles will be touched upon only incidentally. Our object is rather an attempt to determine the dynamic conditions under which art styles grow up. The specific historical problem requires much fuller material than what we now possess. There are very few parts of the world in which we can trace, by archaeological or comparative geographical study, the growth of art styles. Prehistoric archaeology in Europe, Asia, and America shows, however, that, as general cultural traits are in a constant state of flux, so also do art styles change and the breaks in the artistic life of the people are often surprisingly sudden. It remains to be seen whether it is possible to derive generally valid laws that control the growth of specific art styles, such as Adama van Scheltema has tried to derive for North European art.[4] With increasing technical skill and perfection of tools, changes are bound to occur. Their course is determined by the general cultural history of the people. We are not in a position to say that the same tendencies, modified by local historical happenings, reappear in the course of art development everywhere.

[4] Die altnordische Kunst, Berlin, 1923.

I wish to express my thanks to those who have assisted me in gathering the illustrative material for this volume. I am indebted to the American Museum of Natural History, especially to Dr. Pliny E. Goddard for permission to have drawings made of specimens, for liberal help in their selection and also for the use of illustrative material from the Museum publications. I am also indebted to the Field Museum, Chicago; the United States National Museum, Washington; the University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania at Philadelphia, the Free Public Museum of the City of Milwaukee and to the Linden Museum at Stuttgart for illustrations of specimens. The drawings were made by Mr. W. Baake, Miss M. Franziska Boas and Miss Lillian Sternberg.

INTRODUCTION

No people known to us, however hard their lives may be, spend all their time, all their energies in the acquisition of food and shelter, nor do those who live under more favorable conditions and who are free to devote to other pursuits the time not needed for securing their sustenance occupy themselves with purely industrial work or idle away the days in indolence. Even the poorest tribes have produced work that gives to them esthetic pleasure, and those whom a bountiful nature or a greater wealth of inventions has granted freedom from care, devote much of their energy to the creation of works of beauty.

In one way or another esthetic pleasure is felt by all members of mankind. No matter how diverse the ideals of beauty may be, the general character of the enjoyment of beauty is of the same order everywhere; the crude song of the Siberians, the dance of the African Negroes, the pantomime of the Californian Indians, the stone work of the New Zealanders, the carvings of the Melanesians, the sculpture of the Alaskans appeal to them in a manner not different from that felt by us when we hear a song, when we see an artistic dance, or when we admire ornamental work, painting or sculpture. The very existence of song, dance, painting and sculpture among all the tribes known to us is proof of the craving to produce things that are felt as satisfying through their form, and of the capability of man to enjoy them.

All human activities may assume forms that give them esthetic values. The mere cry, or the word does not necessarily possess the elements of beauty. If it does so it is merely a matter of accident. Violent, unrestrained movements induced by excitement; the exertions of the chase and the movements required by daily occupations are partly reflexes of passion, partly practically determined. They have no immediate esthetic appeal. The same is true of all products of industrial activity. The daubing of paint, the whittling of wood or bone, the flaking of stone do not necessarily lead to results that compel our admiration on account of their beauty.

Nevertheless, all of them may assume esthetic values. Rhythmical movements of the body or of objects, forms that appeal to the eye, sequences of tones and forms of speech which please the ear, produce artistic effects. Muscular, visual and auditory sensations are the materials that give us esthetic pleasure and that are used in art.

We may also speak of impressions that appeal to the senses of smell, taste and touch. A composition of scents, a gastronomical repast may be called works of art provided they excite pleasurable sensations.

What then gives to the sensation an esthetic value? When the technical treatment has attained a certain standard of excellence, when the control of the processes involved is such that certain typical forms are produced, we call the process an art, and however simple the forms may be, they may be judged from the point of view of formal perfection; industrial pursuits such as cutting, carving, moulding, weaving; as well as singing, dancing and cooking are capable of attaining technical excellence and fixed forms. The judgment of perfection of technical form is essentially an esthetic judgment. It is hardly possible to state objectively just where the line between artistic and pre-artistic forms should be drawn, because we cannot determine just where the esthetic attitude sets in. It seems certain, however, that wherever a definite type of movement, a definite sequence of tones or a fixed form has developed it must become a standard by which its perfection, that is, its beauty, is measured.

Such types exist among mankind the world over, and we must assume that if an unstandardized form should prove to possess an esthetic appeal for a community it would readily be adopted. Fixity of form seems to be most intimately connected with our ideas of beauty.

Since a perfect standard of form can be attained only in a highly developed and perfectly controlled technique there must be an intimate relation between technique and a feeling for beauty.

It might be said that achievement is irrelevant as long as the ideal of beauty for which the would-be artist strives is in existence, although on account of imperfect technique he may be unable to attain it. Alois Riegl expresses this idea by saying that the will to produce an esthetic result is the essence of artistic work. The truth of this assertion may be admitted and undoubtedly many individuals strive for expression of an esthetic impulse without being able to realize it. What they are striving for presupposes the existence of an ideal form which the unskilled muscles are unable to express adequately. The intuitive feeling for form must be present. So far as our knowledge of the works of art of primitive people extends the feeling for form is inextricably bound up with technical experience. Nature does not seem to present formal ideals,—that is fixed types that are imitated,—except when a natural object is used in daily life; when it is handled, perhaps modified, by technical processes. It would seem that only in this way form impresses itself upon the human mind. The very fact that the manufactures of man in each and every part of the world have pronounced style proves that a feeling for form develops with technical activities. There is nothing to show that the mere contemplation of nature or of natural objects develops a sense of fixed form. Neither have we any proof that a definite stylistic form develops as a product purely of the power of the imagination of the workman, unguided by his technical experience which brings the form into his consciousness. It is conceivable that elementary esthetic forms like symmetry and rhythm, are not entirely dependent upon technical activities; but these are common to all art styles; they are not specifically characteristic of any particular region. Without stability of form of objects, manufactured or in common use, there is no style; and stability of form depends upon the development of a high technique, or in a few cases on the constant use of the same kind of natural products. When stable forms have been attained, imaginative development of form in an imperfect technique may set in and in this case the will to produce an esthetic result may outrun the ability of the would-be artist. The same consideration holds good in regard to the esthetic value of muscular movements used in song and dance.

The manufactures of man the world over prove that the ideal forms are based essentially on standards developed by expert technicians. They may also be imaginative developments of older standardized forms. Without a formal basis the will to create something that appeals to the sense of beauty can hardly exist.

* * * * *

Many works of art affect us in another way. The emotions may be stimulated not by the form alone, but also by close associations that exist between the form and ideas held by the people. In other words, when the forms convey a meaning, because they recall past experiences or because they act as symbols, a new element is added to the enjoyment. The form and its meaning combine to elevate the mind above the indifferent emotional state of every day life. Beautiful sculpture or painting, a musical composition, dramatic art, a pantomime, may so affect us. This is no less true of primitive art than of our own.

Sometimes esthetic pleasure is released by natural forms. The song of a bird may be beautiful; we may experience pleasure in viewing the form of a landscape or in viewing the movements of an animal; we may enjoy a natural taste or smell, or a pleasant feeling; grandeur of nature may give us an emotional thrill and the actions of animals may have a dramatic effect; all of these have esthetic values but they are not art. On the other hand, a melody, a carving, a painting, a dance, a pantomime are esthetic productions, because they have been created by our own activities.

Form, and creation by our own activities are essential features of art. The pleasure or elevation of the mind must be brought about by a particular form of sense impression, but this sense impression must be made by some kind of human activity or by some product of human activity.

It is essential to bear in mind the twofold source of artistic effect, the one based on form alone, the other on ideas associated with form. Otherwise the theory of art will be one-sided. Since the art of man, the world over, among primitive tribes as well as among civilized nations, contains both elements, the purely formal and the significant, it is not admissible to base all discussions of the manifestations of the art impulse upon the assumption that the expression of emotional states by significant forms must be the beginning of art, or that, like language, art is a form of expression. In modern times this opinion is based in part on the often observed fact that in primitive art even simple geometrical forms may possess a meaning that adds to their emotional value, and that dance, music and poetry almost always have definite meaning. However, significance of artistic form is neither universal nor can it be shown that it is necessarily older than the form.

I do not intend to enter into a discussion of the philosophical theories of esthetics, but will confine myself to a few remarks on the views of a number of recent authors who have treated art on the basis of ethnological material, and only in so far as the question is concerned whether primitive art is expressive of definite ideas.

Our views agree fundamentally with those of Fechner[5] who recognizes the “direct” appeal of the work of art on the one side and the associated elements that give a specific tone to the esthetic effects on the other.

[5] G. T. Fechner, Vorschule der Aesthetik.

Wundt[6] restricts the discussion of art to those forms in which the artistic work expresses some thought or emotion. He says, “For the psychological study art stands in a position intermediate between language and myth.... Thus the creative artistic work appears to us as a peculiar development of the expressive movements of the body. Gesture and language pass in a fleeting moment. In art they are sometimes given a higher significance; sometimes the fleeting movement is given a permanent form.... All these relations are manifested principally in the relatively early, although not in the very earliest stages of artistic work in which the momentary needs of expression of thought dominate art as well as language.”

[6] Wilhelm Wundt, Völkerpsychologie, Vol. 3, Die Kunst; third edition, Leipzig, 1919, p. 5.

Max Verworn[7] says: “Art is the faculty to express conscious processes by means created by the artist himself in such a manner that they may be perceived by our sense organs. In this general sense language, song, music and dance are art, just as well as painting, sculpture and ornamentation. The graphic and plastic arts in the narrow sense of the term result from the ability of making conscious processes visible in permanent materials.”

[7] Die Anfänge der Kunst, Jena, 1920, p. 8. “Kunst im allgemeinsten Sinne ist, wie das Wort schon sagt, ein ‘Können’.”

Richard Thurnwald[8] accepts the view-point of Wundt when he says, “Art, however inadequate its means may be, is a means of expression that belongs to mankind. The means employed are distinct from those used in gesture, language and writing. Even when the artist is intent only upon the repetition of what he has in mind he does so with at least the subconscious purpose of communicating his ideas, of influencing others.”

[8] Richard Thurnwald, Handbuch der vergleichenden Psychologie, herausgegeben von Gustav Kafka, Vol. I, p. 211.

The same onesidedness may be recognized in Yrjö Hirn’s[9] opinion, who says: “In order to understand the art impulse as a tendency to esthetic production we must bring it into connection with some function from the nature of which the specifically artistic qualities may be derived. Such a function is to be found, we believe, in the activities of emotional expression.”

[9] Yrjö Hirn, The Origins of Art, London, 1900, p. 29.

It will be seen that all these authors confine their definition of art to those forms which are expressions of emotional states or of ideas, while they do not include in art the pleasure conveyed by purely formal elements that are not primarily expressive.

Ernst Grosse[10] expresses similar views in somewhat different form. He stresses the practical purpose of artistic forms which appears to him as primary. However, he assumes that these forms, while devoted first of all to practical purposes, are intended at the same time to serve an esthetic need that is felt by the people. Thus, he says, that primitive ornament is by origin and by its fundamental nature not intended as decorative but as a practically significant mark or symbol, that is to say as expressive. If I understand him correctly this practical significance implies some kind of meaning inherent in the form.

[10] Ernst Grosse, Die Anfänge der Kunst, 1894, p. 292.

Emil Stephan[11] concludes from his detailed discussion of Melanesian art that technical motives offer no sufficient explanation for the origin of artistic forms (pp. 52 et seq.). He considers all ornament as representative and sees the origin of art in that unconscious mental process by which the form appears as distinct from the content of the visual impression, and in the desire to give permanence to the form (p. 51). For this reason he considers the artistic forms also as equivalents of the way in which the form appears to the primitive artist.

[11] Emil Stephan, Südseekunst, Berlin, 1907.

Alfred C. Haddon[12] and W. H. Holmes[13] seek the origin of all decorative art in realism. They discuss the transfer of technical forms to ornament but they see in these also results of the endeavor to reproduce realistic form, namely; technical details. Henry Balfour[14] agrees, on the whole, with this position but he stresses also the development of decorative motives from the actual use of technical processes.

[12] Alfred C. Haddon, Evolution in Art, London 1895.

[13] W. H. Holmes, Origin and Development of Form in Ceramic Art, Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, Vol. 4, 1886, pp. 443 et seq.

[14] Henry Balfour, The Evolution of Decorative Art, London 1893.

Gottfried Semper[15] emphasizes the importance of the form as determined by the manner of use. He also stresses the influence of designs developed in weaving and of their transfer upon other forms of technique, particularly upon architectural forms.

[15] Gottfried Semper, Der Stil in den Technischen und Tektonischen Künsten, 1860.

Alois Riegl[16] is also inclined to stress the representative character of the most ancient art forms, basing his argument essentially upon the realistic paleolithic carvings and paintings. He sees the most important step forward in the attempt to show the animals in outline, on a two-dimensional surface which necessitates the substitution of an ideal line for the three-dimensional form that is given to us by every day experience. He assumes that geometric ornament developed from the treatment of the line, obtained by the process just mentioned, according to formal principles.

[16] Alois Riegl, Stilfragen, 2nd edition, Berlin, 1923, pp. 2 et seq.

Setting aside the assumed sequence of these two aspects, his view-point is distinguished from that of the authors referred to before, by the recognition of the principle of form as against that of content.

The principle of form is still more energetically defended by van Scheltema, who tries to prove definite developmental processes through which the formal treatment of North European art has passed, first in the Neolithic period, then in the bronze age and finally in the iron age.[17]

[17] F. Adama van Scheltema, Die altnordische Kunst, Berlin, 1923. For a comprehensive review of works on primitive art up to 1914, see Martin Heydrich, Afrikanische Ornamentik, Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, Supplement to Volume XXII, Leyden, 1914; also the bibliography in Eckert von Sydow, Die Kunst der Naturvölker und der Vorzeit, Berlin, 1923; and Herbert Kühn, Die Kunst der Primitiven, München, 1923. An excellent review of the subject has been given by Elizabeth Wilson, Das Ornament (Dissertation, University of Leipzig).

Alfred Vierkandt[18] also emphasizes the fundamental importance of the formal element in the esthetic effect of all manifestations of art.

[18] Prinzipienfragen der ethnologischen Kunstforschung, Zeitschrift für Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft, Vol. XIX, Berlin, 1925, pp. 338 et seq. See also Jahrbuch für historische Volkskunde, Vol. II; Vom Wesen der Volkskunst, Berlin, 1926; Rafael Karsten, Civilization of South American Indians, New York, 1926.

GRAPHIC AND PLASTIC ARTS

THE FORMAL ELEMENT IN ART

An examination of the material on which our studies of the artistic value of objects of primitive manufacture are founded shows that in most cases we are dealing with products of an industry in which a high degree of mechanical skill has been attained. Ivory carvings of the Eskimo; fur clothing of the Chukchee; wood carving of the northwest coast of America, of New Zealand, the Marquesas, or central Africa; metal work of Africa; appliqué work and embroidery of the Amur River; pottery of the North American Pueblos; bronze work of ancient Scandinavia are examples of this kind.

The close relation between technical virtuosity and the fullness of artistic development may easily be demonstrated by an examination of the art of tribes with one-sided industries. While people like the African negroes or the Malay are in possession of many industries, such as basketry, carving, weaving, metal work and pottery, we find others among whom the range of industrial activities is so narrow that almost all the utensils for their manifold needs are made by the same process.

The Californian Indians present an excellent example of this kind. Their chief industry is basketry. Almost all their household goods, receptacles for storage, cooking vessels, mortars for preparing food, children’s cradles, receptacles for carrying loads, are made of basketry. As compared to this industry others employed for the manufacture of weapons and tools are insignificant. The building of houses, of canoes, woodcarving, and painting are only slightly developed. The only other occupation in which an unusual degree of skill has been attained is featherwork. A great deal of time is therefore given to the manufacture of baskets and an unusual degree of virtuosity is found among the basketmakers. The beauty of form, the evenness of texture of the Californian baskets are well known and highly prized by collectors. At the same time the baskets are elaborately decorated with a variety of geometrical designs or by the addition of shells and feathers. (Plate I.) Basketmaking is an occupation of women and thus it happens that among the Californian Indians only women are creative artists. They are virtuosos in their technique and on account of their virtuosity productive. The works of art made by the men are, as compared to theirs, insignificant.

It so happens that conditions among the northern neighbors of the Californians are reversed. From Puget Sound northward the household goods and implements of the Indians are made of wood, and much of the time of the men is spent in woodworking. They are skilled joiners and carvers who through constant practice have acquired virtuosity in the handling of wood. The exactness of their work rivals that of our very best craftsmen. Their boxes, buckets, kettles, cradles, and dishes are all made of wood, as those of the Californians are made of basketry. In their lives basketry plays a relatively unimportant part. The industry in which they have attained greatest proficiency, is, at the same time, the one in which their decorative art is most fully developed. It finds expression, not only in the beauty of form of the woodwork, but also in elaborate decoration. Among these people all other aspects of decorative art are weak as compared to their artistic expression in woodwork or in art forms derived from woodwork (fig. 1). All this work is done by men and hence it follows that the men are the creative artists while the women seem to be lacking in inventiveness and artistic sense. Here also virtuosity in technique and artistic productivity go hand in hand.

Maidu Baskets. 1-2. Butterfly design. 3. Raccoon design. 4. Rim: mountains; body: flying geese. 5. Moth-miller.]

As a third example we might mention the Pueblo Indians of the Southern United States. In many villages of this region pottery is the dominant industry and in pottery is found the highest expression of art. The form of the clay vessel is characterized by great regularity and it becomes the substratum for decoration. Since pottery is a woman’s art, women are the most productive artists among the Pueblos (fig. 2). However, the industrial activities of the Pueblos are not quite so one-sided as those of California and British Columbia. Therefore the men who are experienced in industrial work devoted to ceremonial purposes are not lacking in the ability of artistic expression.

I believe these examples demonstrate that there is a close connection between the development of skill in an industry and artistic activity. Ornamental art has developed in those industries in which the greatest skill is attained. Artistic productivity and skill are closely correlated. Productive artists are found among those who have mastered a technique, among men when the industries are in their hands, among women when they are devoted to industrial activities.

It will be admitted that aside from all adventitious form elements, the product of an experienced worker in any handicraft has an artistic value. A child learning to make a basket or a pot cannot attain the regularity of outline that is achieved by the master.

The appreciation of the esthetic value of technical perfection is not confined to civilized man. It is manifested in the forms of manufactured objects of all primitive people that are not contaminated by the pernicious effects of our civilization and its machine-made wares. In the household of the natives we do not find slovenly work, except when a rapid makeshift has to be made. Patience and careful execution characterize most of their products. Direct questioning of natives and their criticism of their own work shows also their appreciation of technical perfection. Virtuosity, complete control of technical processes, however, means an automatic regularity of movement. The basketmaker who manufactures a coiled basket, handles the fibres composing the coil in such a way that the greatest evenness of coil diameter results (fig. 3). In making her stitches the automatic control of the left hand that lays down the coil, and of the right that pulls the binding stitches over the coil brings it about that the distances between the stitches and the strength of the pull are absolutely even so that the surface will be smooth and evenly rounded and that the stitches show a perfectly regular pattern,—in the same way as an experienced seamstress will make her stitches at regular intervals and with even pull, so that they lie like beads on a string. The same observation may be made in twined basketry (fig. 4). In the handiwork of an expert the pull of the woof string will be so even that there is no distortion of the warp strings and the twisted woof will lie in regularly arranged loops. Any lack of automatic control will bring about irregularities of surface pattern.

A pot of well-rounded form results also from complete control of a technique. Primitive tribes make their pottery without the aid of the potter’s wheel, and in most cases the potter builds up his vessel by the process of coiling, analogous to the coiling of a basket. Long round strips of clay are laid down spirally beginning at the bottom. By continued turning and gradual laying on of more and more strips in a continued spiral the pot is built up. Complete control of the technique will result in a perfectly round cross section and in smooth curvatures of the sides. Lack of skill will bring about lack of symmetry and of smoothness of curvature. Virtuosity and regularity of surface and form are here also intimately related.

A similar correlation is found in the manufacture of chipped stone implements. After the brittle stone has been roughly shaped it is given its final form either by pressure with an implement that squeezes off long, thin flakes or by indirect chipping. In the former case the flaking implement is held in the right hand and by sudden pressure with the point of the flaker long flakes or small bits are removed from the surface. When the worker has attained complete control of this technique his pressure will be even and executed with equal rapidity; the distances between the points of attack will be the same and he will move his flaker in regular lines. The result is a chipped implement of regular form and surface pattern in which the long, conchoidal depressions caused by the flaking off of thin chips are of equal size and regularly arranged (fig. 5).

When indirect chipping is applied the thin part of the object which is to be worked is placed on a hard, sharp edge and by a smart blow on the body of the flint a strong vibration is produced which results in a break just over the sharp edge. In this way, place and size of the flake are perfectly controlled by the expert craftsman.

Quite similar are the conditions in woodwork. The smoothing of large surfaces is generally done with the adze. A skilled worker handles his adze automatically. The strength of the stroke and the depth to which it enters the surface of the wood are always the same and the chips removed have always the same size and form. The workman will also move the adze in even lines and strike the surface at even distances. The result of automatic action is here, also, evenness of surface and regularity of surface pattern (fig. 6).

These conditions are well-described by Sophus Müller, who says,[19] “A great part of the work on flint must be designated as luxury, and was done with the sole intent of producing a masterpiece of handiwork. When making an adze blade all that is needed for practical purposes is a good cutting edge. Smoothness of face, back and sides is not necessary, particularly since a large portion of these were covered by the attachment to the handle. With coarse and conchoidal chipping the blade would be equally serviceable. However, the maker wanted to produce excellent stone work, to the making of which he devoted all the care, taste and skill at his command and by this the manufactured objects undoubtedly increased in value. These objects might be called therefore, in the strict sense of the term, works of artistic industry.”

[19] Sophus Müller, Nordische Altertumskunde, Strassburg 1897, Vol. I, p. 190.

All these examples show that complete automatic control of a technique, and regularity of form and surface pattern are intimately correlated.

However, besides these, attempts at decoration occur in which a mastery of technique has not been attained. Among a few tribes almost all artistic work is of this character. Among the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego are found only meagre examples of painting, lacking in skill (fig. 7). The patterns are simply dots and coarse lines in which the arrangement is the essential artistic element. It is intelligible that a feeling for symmetry may exist without the ability of perfect execution. The modern Bushmen scratch patterns on ostrich eggs which serve as receptacles for water (fig. 8). Here we find the intent to give expression to form but with inadequate means. It is important to note that the same motive, two circles connected by a narrow band, occurs several times in these etchings. The circle might be suggested to the workman by the perforation of the shell of the ostrich egg through which the water is poured out, but the combination can hardly be derived on the basis of Bushman industries. Shall we consider the pattern as the result of the play of their imagination or as an attempt at representation? It seems to me important to note that the neighbors of the Bushmen, the negroes of the Zambezi, use the same pattern and that rows of triangles and diamonds, such as are used by the Bushmen, are found on their implements also (fig. 9). The pattern may therefore have come from an outside source.[20] Perhaps the decoration on ostrich eggs is poor only on account of the difficulties of handling the material. At least the zig-zag patterns (fig. 8), found on a bracelet, show a much greater technical perfection than those found on the ostrich eggs.

[20] F. von Luschan, Buschmann-Einritzungen auf Strausseneiern, Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, Vol. 55 (1923), pp. 31 et seq.—Hendrik P. M. Muller et John F. Snelleman, L’Industrie des Caffres dans le sud-est de l’Afrique. (Pl. XIV, Figs. 2-5). See also P. C. Lepage, La décoration primitive; Afrique, Paris, Librairie des arts décoratifs, Plate 5, where similar designs are shown on pottery vessels.

Here may also be mentioned the painting and carving of the Melanesians. We see among them a wealth of forms in carvings of excellent technique. In some specimens, particularly from western New Guinea, we find complete mastery of the art. In the majority of cases, however, there is an imperfect control of technique, while there is an astounding multiplicity of forms. The lines generally lack regularity and evenness (fig. 10 _a_, _b_). There is no clear proof of a general degeneration of the art and we may perhaps assume that in this case the development of a keen sense for form among all the carvers and painters of the tribe did not go hand in hand with a corresponding mastery of technique. It is not unlikely that foreign influence has led here to an exuberant form perception.

Setting aside any esthetic consideration, we recognize that in cases in which a perfect technique has developed, the consciousness of the artist of having mastered great difficulties, in other words the satisfaction of the virtuoso is a source of genuine pleasure.

I do not propose to enter into a discussion of the ultimate sources of all esthetic judgments. It is sufficient for an inductive study of the forms of primitive art to recognize that regularity of form and evenness of surface are essential elements of decorative effect, and that these are intimately associated with the feeling of mastery over difficulties; with the pleasure felt by the virtuoso on account of his own powers.

I can give at least a few examples which illustrate that the artist has not in mind the visual effect of his work, but that he is stimulated by the pleasure of making a complex form.

The raw hide boxes of the Sauk and Fox Indians are made of a large piece of hide which is carefully ornamented according to a definite plan (fig. 11). The boxes are made by folding the hide. There are five sides of approximately equal width (1-5). These are the four sides of the box: front (5), bottom (4), back (3), top (2), and a flap (1) covering the front. A strip on each side (_a_-_e_) is folded over and the marginal piece (_d_) belonging to the bottom segment is folded in along diagonal lines as we fold in the ends of a paper wrapper, so that the marginal strips, _e_ and _c_, form the sides of the box. Another similar fold is made in _b_ when the top is folded over the top opening of the box. The folds at the bottom are sewed in firmly, while the fold on top remains open. The resulting form is shown in fig. 12. Those parts of the surface that are entirely invisible are indicated by horizontal shading (fig. 11). These are folded in and sewed in on the inside of the box. Those parts that may be seen when the box is opened are indicated by diagonal shading; while the white area is that part of the surface that is visible when the box is closed and tied up. It will be noticed that the fields _c_ and _e_ overlap on the short sides of the finished box.

The decoration of these boxes is carefully laid out on a flat piece of rawhide. Corresponding to the five faces of the box most of the designs are divided into five equal fields and corresponding to the folded margins two marginal fields are set off from the central field. This, however, is so narrow that in folding part of the lateral design is turned over so that it becomes invisible. When the boxes are folded the cohesion of the pattern is completely lost. Not only do the folds fail to agree with the divisions, but owing to the method of folding and the complete covering of the field _d_ and of part of _e_, the whole pattern is broken up and on the short sides we find only fragments adjoining in the most irregular way (fig. 12). When the box is closed field _e_ adjoins field 1, and the overlapping section _c_ adjoins it in the middle of the narrow side. On top it adjoins field 2 and at the bottom field 4. The whole formal idea of the carefully planned pattern is lost in the completed box. We find even patterns laid out in four strips instead of five, so that the fundamental pattern and the sides do not coincide (fig. 14). It will be seen, therefore, that the artist spends his ingenuity in decorating the rawhide but that in the box the fundamental ideas of his carefully planned decoration are lost.

The disregard of the original pattern is such that in some specimens (fig. 15) part of the design has been cut off in order to make the sides fit together. In our illustration the parts cut off,—the right upper corners,—have been reconstructed.

It might be said that similar conditions prevail in modern, patterned fabrics that are made into garments. In this case the manufacturer tries to attain a pleasing effect for the fabric as a whole. If economy of material did not interfere, the tailor would fit the pattern together, but we always feel the conflict between the pattern and the requirements of the finished garment.

As another example I mention a legging made by an Indian woman from the interior of British Columbia. It bears the usual decoration,—a long fringe along the outer seam. The fringe consists of a long piece of curried skin cut in narrow strips. These strips are decorated in rhythmic order (fig. 16), a string decorated by one glass bead and two bone beads in alternating order is followed by a plain string, next by one decorated with single alternating glass and bone beads, then a plain one and finally one like the first. When we indicate the plain and decorated strips by letters, we find the arrangement

. . . | A B C B A | A B C B A | . . .

repeated over and over again.[21] The important point to be noted is, that when in use, the fringe hangs down without order along the outer side of the leg so that the elaborate rhythmic pattern cannot be seen. The only way in which the maker can get any satisfaction from her work is while making it or when exhibiting it to her friends. When it is in use there is no esthetic effect.

[21] James Teit, The Thompson Indians of British Columbia, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, New York 1900, Vol. I, p. 382; see also Gladys A. Reichard, The Complexity of Rhythm in Decorative Art, American Anthropologist N. S., Vol. 24 (1922), p. 198.

Other cases occur in which motives are applied that are practically invisible. Thus in mattings from Vancouver Island, the weaver will alternate the direction of the strands in squares without any attempt to set off the surface in colors (fig. 17). When the matting is new these patterns may be seen in reflected light, but after a very short time they disappear almost completely.

Similarly the woven patterns on arm rings from the Ucayali are practically invisible.[22]

[22] Max Schmidt, Besondere Geflechtsart der Indianer im Ucayaligebiete, Archiv für Anthropologie, N. S., Vol. VI (1907), p. 270.

To sum up: Objectively the excellence of workmanship results in regularity of form and evenness of surface which are characteristic of most uncontaminated primitive manufactures, so much so that most objects of every day use must be considered as works of art. The handles of implements, stone blades, receptacles, clothing, permanent houses, canoes are finished off in such a way that their forms have artistic value.