How a Museum Exhibit Can Leave a Writer Speechless:
African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back at PMA

by Sherella Gibbs
Ga Wree Wree Mask 
Early 20th century Dan, Liberia, Guinea, and Côte d'Ivoire. 
Wood, cloth, bells, leopard teeth, hairpins, cowry shells, and twine. Height 19 3/4 inches

Chris Rock said it best: "How can a black man fail black history?" In Bring the Pain (DreamWorks, 1996) he explains how he thought he'd automatically pass a college course in black history. After all, he says, "I'm black-- I got this!" Well, he failed it. And we all laughed at the irony and truthfulness of the punch line.

On a dismal Sunday afternoon, I became the butt of this joke. I went to an African art exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back.

I come from a place where the word museum is followed by a groan and almost always, a look of disgust or bewilderment. I never go to a museum unless assigned, say on a class trip. So when my writing group decided to convene at the museum that Sunday, I groaned, crinkled my nose and showed up an hour late. I could think of much better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.

When I got to the exhibit hall, I tried to put on my best impression of an art lover. Everyone around me was so serious; I wanted to play the part. But my thoughts began to wander and I soon scowled at the idea of visiting museums. Why do they just stand here and stare? Then I noticed everyone had what I thought were MP3 players. Later I found out they were digital tour guides. That was interesting, so I decided to check my coat and get one.

I practically had to beg the exhibit's gatekeeper to give me one. Turns out, I went through the back of the exhibit hall and bypassed him. When I finally convinced him to give me one, I swear, he christened me with it. I giggled.

I eyed a few exhibits before using the tour guide. A handful of people were huddled by a display of masks on seven-foot black stakes, all with the tour guides pressed to their ears. So I joined the club and listened to the tale of the Ga Wree Wree mask.

The Ga Wree Wree mask is from the Liberian Dan tribe. It wore a cone-shaped, red cloth hat sprinkled with cowry shells. The brim was made of wooden hairpins pushed up by a band of five or six rows of tightly woven cowry shells. The strap for the hat, which was secured under the wooden mask's chin, was a red and blue beaded necklace. Small cow bells dangled from it. It could have been festive. But the eyes of the wooden mask were piercing and lifeless. They were half-inch slits. The nose and the mouth were shaped nicely, but the eyes looked like they were made with a devious carelessness.

The Dan people believe that their masks inhabit the spirit of supernatural a spiritual force called Gle, who manifests itself in dreams. The dreamer, always a man, reports his dream to the elder council. The council then decides if a mask should be made for the dreamer to manifest the Gle's spirit. It is said that the person who wears the Ga Wree Wree inhabits the ancestral spirits who make decisions that control the religious and social life of the tribe.

I stood in front of the mask astounded, more by my ignorance than by what I was learning. Up until that moment, I had thought African masks were just art. I'd seen them on TV, hanging on people's walls.

My writing group was on its way out. I decided to stay because I had arrived late. I walked around and lingered at a wooden statue, pressing the tour guide to my ear. I was equally impressed with the intellectual significance of this exhibit. I wrote that down, thinking it would make a great essay for the group exercise, but then realized that it was a silly notion. Surely every culture is deep and intellectual.

I put the pen and paper away.

So this is what coming to the museum is all about, I thought.

African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back.showed at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) between October 2 and January 5. Additional information about upcoming shows can be obtained by calling (215) 763-8100 or by visiting the museum's website at www.philamuseum.org.

 

 

Copyright 2004 | Contact Us | Submission Guidelines | Staff | Obtain a Copy | Home