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Title: Primitive art
Author: Franz Boas
Release date: February 2, 2026 [eBook #77834]
Language: English
Original publication: Oslo: H. Aschehoug & Co, 1927
Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Linda Cantoni, A Marshall and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
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INSTITUTTET
FOR SAMMENLIGNENDE
KULTURFORSKNING
[Illustration: (Institute Logo)]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 1. Front of painted box, Tlingit, Alaska.]
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.
[Illustration: PLATE I.
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 2. Jar from Zuni.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 3. Coiled basketry.]
[Illustration: Fig. 4. Twined basketry.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 5. Chipped flint implements: _a_ North America; _b_
Egypt.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 6. Part of surface of wooden sail, Vancouver
Island.]
[Illustration: Fig. 7. Painted board, Tierra del Fuego.]
[Illustration: Fig. 8. Bushman designs from ostrich eggs and from horn
bracelet.]
[Illustration: Fig. 9. Kaffer headrests.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 10. Paddle and shield, New Ireland.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 11. Plan of rawhide box, Sauk and Fox Indians.]
[Illustration: Fig. 12. Rawhide box, Sauk and Fox Indians.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 13. Design on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox
Indians.]
[Illustration: Fig. 14. Design on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox
Indians.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 15. Designs on rawhide boxes, Sauk and Fox Indians.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 16. Fringe from legging, Thompson Indians.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 17. Twilled weaving showing alternation of
patterns.]
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.
[Illustration: Fig. 18. Carving on bow of Bella Bella canoe, British
Columbia.]
[Illustration: Fig. 19. Rattle, Kwakiutl Indians, British Columbia.]
Expert workmanship in the treatment of the surface may lead not only
to evenness but also to the development of patterns. In adzing the
form of the object to be smoothed will determine the most advantageous
direction of the lines in which the adze has to be carried. In a large
Bella Bella canoe, the body of the canoe is adzed in horizontal lines,
while prow and stern show vertical lines. The wolf carved on the bow of
the same canoe shows surface patterns on its body and limbs (fig. 18).
Decorative use of adzed lines, is also found on a rattle (fig. 19).
In this specimen there is no technical need for the alternation in the
direction of the groves, and the fields on the top of the rattle can
the explained only as determined by the pleasure felt by the variation
of the simple activity in novel and more complicated ways.[23]
[23] See also page 41.
In chipping of flint zig-zag lines are produced by the meeting of two
lines on a ridge (fig. 20).
[Illustration: Fig. 20. Base of flint knife, Scandinavia.]
Technical experience and the acquisition of virtuosity have probably
led to the general prevalence of the plane, the straight line and
regular curves such as the circle and the spiral, for all of these are
of rare occurrence in nature, so rare indeed, that they had hardly ever
a chance to impress themselves upon the mind.
Plain surfaces are represented by crystals, by the cleavage of some
kinds of rock, or by the surface of water during a calm. Straight lines
by the shoots and stems of plants or by the sharp edges of crystals;
regular curved lines by the shells of snails, by vines, bubbles on
water or by smooth pebbles, but there is no obvious motive that would
induce man to imitate these particular abstract forms, except perhaps
in those cases in which regularly curved shells are worn as ornaments
or employed as utensils.
On the other hand, the straight line develops constantly in technical
work. It is a characteristic form of the stretched thong or cord and
its importance cannot be ignored by the hunter who hurls a lance or
flies an arrow. The technical use of the straight shoot may well have
been important in its derivation. Plants like the bamboo or the reed
may thus have helped man to discover the value of the straight line.
More essential than this seems to be the possession of a perfect
technique, which involves great accuracy and steadiness of movement.
These in themselves must lead necessarily to regular lines. When
the uncertain wobbling of the cutting tool is eliminated, smooth
curves will result. When the potter turns the pot he is making and
his movements are quite regular the pot will be circular. Perfectly
controlled coiling of basketry or of wire will lead to the formation of
equidistant spirals.
[Illustration: Fig. 21. Face painting, Tierra del Fuego.]
A number of other characteristic features may be observed in the art of
all times and all peoples. One of these is symmetry. Symmetrical forms
are found even in the simplest forms of decorative art. The tribes of
Tierra del Fuego[24] decorate their faces and bodies with designs, many
of which are symmetrical. Vertical lines on both sides of the body
or a series of symmetrically arranged dots running from ear to ear
across the nose are of this kind (fig. 21). They also use symmetrically
decorated boards with which they adorn their huts (see fig. 7,
page 23). The Andaman Islanders like to decorate their bodies with
symmetrical patterns (Plate II). Many of the designs of the Australians
are symmetrical (fig. 22) and in paleolithic painting geometrical forms
occur that exhibit bilateral symmetry (fig. 23). In a few cases the
elements arranged symmetrically are so complex that the symmetry can
have been attained only by careful planning. Examples of this kind are
necklaces of Indians in British Columbia in which we find as many as
eighteen beads of different colors irregularly arranged, but repeated
in equal order right and left.[25]
[24] W. Koppers, Unter Feuerland-Indianern, p. 48, Pl. 7.
[25] See Gladys A. Reichard, American Anthropologist, N. S., Vol. 24
(1922) p. 191.
[Illustration: PLATE II.
Andaman Islander.]
The causes that have led to the widespread use of symmetrical forms
are difficult to understand. Symmetrical motions of the arms and hands
are physiologically determined. The right and left are apt to move
symmetrically and the motions of the same arm or of both arms are
often performed rhythmically and symmetrically from right to left and
from left to right. I am inclined to consider this condition as one of
the fundamental determinants, in importance equal to the view of the
symmetry of the human body and of that of animals; not that the designs
are made by right and left hand, rather that the sensation of the
motions of right and left lead to the feeling of symmetry.
[Illustration: Fig. 22. Australian shields.]
[Illustration: Fig. 23. Paleolithic paintings.]
In by far the greatest number of cases symmetrical arrangements are to
the right and left of a vertical axis, much more rarely above and below
a horizontal one.
The prevalence of horizontal and the rarity of vertical symmetry
is presumably due to the absence of vertically symmetrical
movements,—except in those rhythmic movements in which the arms are
alternately raised and lowered,—and in the rarity of natural forms
that are vertically symmetrical.
In nature we see generally more fundamental differences in vertical
direction than in horizontal layers. In animals, legs, body and head
are on different levels. In landscapes, earth, trees, mountains and
sky follow one another in vertical succession. On the other hand, we
are liable to find in horizontal sequence sameness or variations of
analogous form. This may be one of the reasons why there are found in
ornamental art frequent arrangements in a series of horizontal bands
that differ fundamentally in pattern, while in each horizontal band we
find either symmetry, rhythmic repetition, or variations of similar
forms (figs. 24, 25, 26). Exceptions however, occur, for instance in
the decorations of Melanesian houses (Plate III).
Other causes may contribute to the development of symmetrical patterns.
In the making of coiled pottery or coiled basketry symmetry results
from the process of manufacture. By regular turning of the pot or
basket a circular form is produced. The process of winding twine around
a holder may have the same effect. In two-handed implements, such as
the bow of the bowdrill, symmetrical forms also develop, but implements
of this type are not by any means numerous and their occurrence is no
adequate explanation of the general occurrence of symmetry.
We must leave it undecided whether the circumstances here referred to
are adequate to account for the symmetry of form of such implements
as lance heads, arrow-heads, baskets and boxes. We must be satisfied
with the establishment of their general occurrence and the knowledge
that they have an esthetic value wherever they are found. Examples of
symmetrical arrangements are very numerous. The boxes from British
Columbia (fig. 274, p. 263), neckrests of the Kaffers (fig. 9, p.
23), Melanesian shields and paddles (fig. 10, p. 25), and the painted
rawhides of the Sauk and Fox (figs. 13-15, pp. 27, 28) may serve
as exemples. A special type of symmetrical design is found in our
heraldic style with its animals rampant on each side of a central
field. It is interesting to note that the same arrangement is very
ancient. It occurs on the Lions’ Gate of Mycenae. It has also developed
independently in prehistoric Peru (fig. 27).
[Illustration: PLATE III.
Decorated House, Northern New Guinea.]
[Illustration: Fig. 24. Patterns from bamboo combs, Malay Peninsula.]
[Illustration: Fig. 25. Design from bamboo spear, New Guinea.]
[Illustration: Fig. 26. Etruscan vase.]
[Illustration: Fig. 27. Peruvian designs.]
On objects that are frequently seen from different sides are found
forms that are symmetrical both ways, when seen right and left and when
seen up and down. Examples of this are the Australian shield fig. 22
(p. 33), and the parfleches of the North American Indians (fig. 89,
p. 97). On objects of similar character made by the same technical
processes and by the same tribe, such as rawhide bags (fig. 28) double
symmetry may also occur.
[Illustration: Fig. 28. Painted rawhide bags, Shuswap, British
Columbia.]
[Illustration: Fig. 30. Carved board Kaiserin Augusta Fluss, New
Guinea.]
In circular forms the diameter is often the axis of symmetry. In
other cases symmetrical fields are radially arranged and there may
be a number of repetitions. The circumference takes the place of the
horizontal, the radius that of the vertical (fig. 29).
[Illustration: Fig. 29. Designs of the Dayak.]
In a number of cases we find instead of normal symmetry an inversion of
the two symmetrical halves so that what is above to the right, is below
to the left. Arrangements of this type are, however, less numerous than
true symmetry. Such forms occur in New Guinea. They are due to the
decorative development of the two branches of a double spiral (fig.
30). This form results sometimes from circular rhythmic repetitions in
which the whole circle is filled by two or more units. This is found
for instance, in pottery from the southwestern Pueblos (fig. 31) and
also quite commonly in Central America.[26]
[26] See, for instance S. K. Lothrop, Pottery of Costa Rica and
Nicaragua, New York, 1926, Plates 39, 46, fig. 195.
[Illustration: Fig. 31. Designs from pottery of the ancient Pueblos.]
Other figures resulting from rotation, that is from a decorative
pattern applied rhythmically in the same direction, as for instance
the swastika and S shaped figures occupying the center of a decorative
field, present the same type of inverted symmetry. The same treatment
is found in the art of ancient Scandinavia (fig. 32).
[Illustration: Fig. 32. Bronze ornament, Sweden, 7th Century A. D.]
[Illustration: Fig. 33. Design from Peruvian textile.]
A curious development of this decorative device is applied in the art
of ancient Peru. On many fabrics we find patterns consisting of a
diagonal arrangement of squares or rectangles. In each diagonal the
same design is repeated, while the next diagonal has another type. In
each diagonal line the design is shown in varying positions. If the
one faces the right, the next faces the left. At the same time there
is an alternation of colors, so that even when the form is the same,
the tints and the color values will not be the same. A characteristic
specimen of this type will be described later on (p. 47).
The plan of one of these designs is illustrated in fig. 33.[27] There
are eight rectangular fields with two designs (1 and 2); those right
and left of the middle line and those above and below the horizontal
middle line are symmetrical in regard to form. In color, 1 corresponds
to 1^b and 1^a to 1^c; also 2 corresponds in color to 2^b and 2^a to 2^c.
The colors being in all these cases, on the whole, reversed. 1, 2, and
1^b, 2^b have a yellowish background and a red field surrounding the
tree shaped design; 1^a, 2^a and 1^c, 2^c have a light red background
and a greenish field surrounding the tree shaped figure. The whole
field, consisting of four sections, is followed in the whole decorated
stripe by another set of four sections in form like the preceding one.
In this the background of 1 and 2, 1^b and 2^b is blue, of 1^a, 2^a
and 1^c, 2^c yellowish. The field surrounding the tree shaped figure
is yellowish in 1 and 1^b, greenish in 1^a, and 1^c. Taken as a whole,
the right side is practically the same as the left, turned upside down.
The order of fields on the left from the top downward and for the right
side from below upward, is according to the color of the background,
abbreviating, r red, y yellow, b blue:
r r y y / y y b b / r r y y / y y
b b / r r y y / y y b b / r r y y /.
[27] Walter Lehmann, Kunstgeschichte des alten Peru, Berlin 1924,
Plates 3 and 4.
[Illustration: Fig. 34. Designs from Peruvian textile.]
A second example is shown in fig. 34. In this specimen the diagonally
arranged fields marked 1, _a_, 2, _b_ [28] have the same color scheme.
[28] These remarks refer also to the fields marked as 1′, 1″ etc.
The larger fields in 1 are yellow, the lesser black. The larger fields
in 2 are pink, the lesser grey. The background in _b_ is grey, the
scroll purple. The background in _a_ is dark grey, the scroll light
purple.
[Illustration: Fig. 35. Pot of coiled pottery, Prehistoric Pueblo
Indians.]
Another fundamental element of decorative form is rhythmic repetition.
Technical activities in which regularly repeated movements are employed
lead to rhythmic repetition in the direction in which the movement
proceeds. The rhythm of time appears here translated into space.
In flaking, adzing, hammering, in the regular turning and pressing
required in the making of coiled pottery, in weaving, regularity of
form and rhythmic repetition of the same movement are necessarily
connected. These rhythmic movements always produce the same series of
forms. Examples of rhythmic surface forms determined by perfect control
of a technique are found in many industries and in all parts of the
world. Exquisite regularity of flaking is found in the Egyptian flint
knives (see fig. 5, p. 21). It is not so frequent in the flaking of
American Indians. The adzed boards of the Indians of the North Pacific
Coast bear chipping marks of great regularity that give the appearance
of a pattern (figs. 6, p. 23 and 18, p. 30). On surfaces that are to
be painted these marks are often polished off with grit-stone or shark
skin, while on unpainted parts they are kept, presumably on account of
their artistic effect. In Oriental metal work the strokes of the hammer
are so regular that patterns consisting of flat surfaces originate.
Other examples of the artistic effect of the regularity of movement
are found in the prehistoric corrugated pottery of the North American
South West. The coils are indented by pressure of the fingers and a
series of indentations form a regular pattern on the surface (fig.
35). The effect of automatic control is seen nowhere more clearly than
in basketry, matting and weaving. It has been pointed out before (p.
20) that evenness of surface results from regularity of movement. The
rhythmic repetition of the movement leads also to rhythmic repetition
of pattern. This is most beautifully illustrated by the best examples
of California basketry.
The virtuoso who varies the monotony of his movements and enjoys his
ability to perform a more complex action, produces at the same time a
more complex rhythm. This happens particularly in weaving and related
industries such as braiding and wrapping with twine. Skipping of
strands,—that is twilling (see fig. 17, p. 30) is the source of many
rhythmic forms and twilling is undertaken by the virtuoso who plays
with his technique and enjoys the overcoming of increased difficulties.
[Illustration: Fig. 36. Necklace of Thompson Indians.]
In many cases rhythmic complexity is clearly the result of careful
planning. I have referred before to the rhythmical arrangement on
fringes of the Thompson Indians of British Columbia, (p. 29).
Another good example (fig. 36) is a double necklace in which the
rhythmic series is—
black, red, yellow, green, blue, green,
both in the inner and outer lines while the connecting links have the
order
black, red, yellow, green, red, blue.[29]
[29] In this specimen (see American Anthropologist, N. S., Volume 24,
1922, p. 188), the connecting links between the two strings have been
misplaced, the inner string of beads being shifted three units to the
right, i. e. the central connecting link is attached to the first
yellow bead to the left of the red center; the others being shifted
correspondingly. They have been corrected here so as to bring out the
arrangement which was evidently planned.
Dr. Reichard[30] has discussed a number of other examples from the
same region which have similar characteristics. In one example the
arrangement of the fringe elements is more complex than in the one
previously described. Designating different colors by numbers and
dentalia shells by D, we find the order
1 2 3 D 2 1 2 3 2 1 2 D 3 2 1[31]
[30] American Anthropologist l. c., pages 198-199.
[31] Owing to a probable error the arrangement of the beads, the order
of the last five beads to the right is
D 2 3 2 1 instead of 2 D 3 2 1.
The change of D and 2 makes the arrangement symmetrical. The same
result might be obtained by changing the first five beads from 1 2 3 D
2 to 1 2 3 2 D and leaving the right end undisturbed.
Other examples of complex rhythms from this region have been given by
Dr. Reichard in the essay previously referred to.
In some instances the rhythms are not so distinct, but nevertheless
discernible. As an example may serve a neckband consisting of a double
string in which beads of various colors are interspersed among red
beads in the following order
-r- r--r---r --- r----r---r--r-
/ / / / | \ \ \ \
-r--r--r- -r---rrr---r----r---r--r-
In Eastern Siberia similar conditions occur.[32]
[32] See W. Jochelson, The Koryak, Publications of the Jesup North
Pacific Expedition, Vol. VI, pp. 688 et seq.; and in the publication
previously referred to by Dr. Reichard.
A fairly simple sequence is shown on an embroidered strip (fig. 37 a)
consisting in regular sequence of squares followed by three narrow
strips; the middle strip is a little wider than the two lateral strips.
[Illustration: Fig. 37. Koryak embroideries.]
A more complex rhythm is shown in figure 37 b. The long fringe which is
caught in the seam near the upper border of the embroidery is repeated
at regular intervals. An embroidered strip near the upper part of the
design is interrupted and the black bars on the central white strip are
omitted at these places. A division of the upper row of embroidery,
between the sets of fringes, into three parts of unequal length will be
noticed. Just under the breaks in this row are two groups of tufts of
seal fur, a little wider below than on top, and these are set off more
definitely by the arrangement of groups of white lines on the lower two
rows.
Still more complex are a number of borders embroidered in colored
yarn. In these we may distinguish between the rhythm of form and
of color (fig. 38). The arrangement is one combining symmetry with
rhythmic complexity. On one of these strips (fig. 38 a) some of the
rectangles with rhombic checkerwork have a white background; in these
there are two rows of blue or purple diamonds at each end and two rows
of red diamonds in the centre (design 1). Other rectangles have a
yellow background with red diamonds at the sides and blue ones in the
middle (design 2). Besides these there is one with red background and
black diamonds (design 3). The colors of the crosses are irregularly
arranged. There are four with predominating red and white (design 4)
and others with predominating yellow and blue (design 5). The most
symmetrical arrangement of this strip requires a yellow rectangle
in the middle of the front. One end of the stripe, as shown in the
illustration, has three short blue bars on a red background (design 6).
The peculiar cut at this end fits into a corresponding cut at the other
end and shows that the stripe as it is has been taken from a garment.
The general impression of the design is that the rhythm and symmetry of
the crosses is subordinated to the symmetry of the rectangles. For this
reason I have placed the crosses in the following arrangement in the
upper line, the rectangles in the lower line.
Crosses 4 5 5 5 4 5 4 4 5 4 6
Rectangles 2 1 1 2 1 1 2 1 3 1
Front Back
The embroidery on figure 38 b consists of four distinct elements; a
flower with leaves on each side (design 1); one branch with curved
leaves (design 2); one branch with terminal flowers (design 3). Besides
these there is one other element which occurs only once on the back of
the coat. It is marked design 4. The embroidered stripe is not sewed
symmetrically to the coat but has evidently been placed in such a
way that the arrangement in the front of the coat corresponds to the
sequence:—
2 3 2 1 _3_ 1 2 3 2
while the back is occupied by three designs (3). The small design (4)
is found on the back. The whole arrangement of the small designs on the
back being
2 2 4 2
Another specimen (fig. 38 c) consists of a double leaf design on a
plain background alternating with another design consisting of three
crosses. This pair of designs occurs in regular succession five times,
but under the left arm it is interrupted by the two patterns shown on
the right hand side of the figure.
[Illustration: Fig. 38. Koryak embroideries.]
In still another coat (fig. 38 d) we find the same series of designs in
symmetrical arrangement on the front and back. The middle is occupied
by a cross and the other designs follow as indicated. Under the right
arm appears an additional design, consisting of a central cross and
rhomboidal fields with central dots; while under the left arm a single
field is added differing in color from all the others but related to
them in form.
An interesting feature in this series is the overlapping of form
and color. This condition appears even more clearly in designs from
ancient Peru. I observed the occurrence of this rhythmical form a
number of years ago and called the attention of Mr. Charles Mead to the
phenomenon.
He described[33] a number of designs of this type which show a rhythmic
arrangement of six units, sometimes the same in form but different in
color. Sometimes with a double rhythm, one of form and one of color.
[33] Charles W. Mead, Six-Unit design in Ancient Peruvian Cloth, Boas
Anniversary Volume, New York 1906, pp. 193 et seq.
Plate IV, fig. 1 represents a border of vicuna wool, consisting of a
series of diagonal bars all of the same pattern. The sequence of color
is:
1. Bright red (1) with brown (7) dots.
2. Blue (2) with pink (1*) dots.
3. Dull yellow (3) with brown (7) dots.
4. White (4) with pink (1*) & brown (7) dots.
5. Dark green (5) with red (1) dots.
6. Red (1) with green (2) dots.
The triangular patterns (Plate IV, fig. 2) have the following sequence:
1. Background white figures red spots dark blue.
2. — dark blue — red — dark yellow.
3. — yellow — red — dark blue.
4. — brown — red — yellow.
5. — light blue — red — dark yellow.
6. — dark yellow — red — light blue.
The quadruple bird head pattern (Plate IV, fig. 3) has the following
colors for the background, bird, and bird’s eye:
1. Background pink 1 bird: yellow eye: pink.
2. — yellow 2 — red — yellow.
3. — dark yellow 3 — light yellow — yellow.
4. — dark red 1^a — yellow — pink.
5. — yellow 2^a — dark red — yellow.
6. — dark yellow 3^a — light yellow — light yellow.
[Illustration: PLATE IV.
Peruvian Textiles.]
A large cloak from Ica is embroidered with designs representing a man
with a bow and headdress (fig. 39). The figures are the same all over,
except that the position and the objects they hold alternate right and
left. The color scheme, however, varies: there are six distinctive
types. Considering only the colors of coat, legs and face we may
arrange them in the following order:
Coat. Legs.
1. Yellow dark blue
2. purple red
3. red dark blue
4. blue dark yellow
5. black dark blue
6. dark blue black
Face, above. Face, below.
1. dark yellow black
2. yellow white
3. brown dark yellow
4. blue red
5. brown dark yellow
6. dark yellow light yellow
The fifth and sixth type correspond in the rest of their color schemes
to the third and second types.
[Illustration: Fig. 39. Peruvian embroidery from Ica.]
The general arrangement of these types is as follows:
1 2 3 4 1 2 3a 4 1 6 5a 4 1
3 4 1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3 4
2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3
4 1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3 4 1
3 4 1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3 4
1 2 3 4 1 6b 5 4 1 2 3 4 1 2
4 1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3 4 1
2 3 4 1 6 5c 4 1 2b 3c 4 1 2 3
1 2 3 4 1 6 5 4 1 2 3 4 1
In the actual arrangement there are apparently three mistakes. In the
first horizontal line, the two figures marked with the note _a_ have
been exchanged. In line six and line eight the two figures marked with
the note _b_ have been transposed and in line eight the two figures
with the note _c_ have been exchanged. It will be seen that when these
transpositions have been effected the diagonal lines running from the
first row down to the left, follow a regular alternation of types. Type
6 is clearly related to 2, and type 5 to 3. Since in quite a number of
woven garments regular diagonal sequences may be observed, it seems
likely that these were particular determinants of the style. There are
in all, six different types, but if we imagine the lines continued, it
would be found that the same order will occur after twelve lines. The
embroidery does not represent a regular six-unit design but is rather
a four unit design of two distinct types—1 2 3 4 and 1 6 5 4,—in which
the former type is repeated twice and the latter once.
Similar observations may be made on the fabrics illustrated in Reiss
and Stübel’s “Necropolis of Ancon”. I have selected a few specimens
that illustrate the rhythmic repetition of color. Figure 40[34]
represents a band with red background on which are animal figures in
the following sequence:
_purple_, yellow, _green_, yellow, _white_, yellow, _green_, yellow
in other words a sequence of eight units consisting of one purple and
one white design interrupted by the symmetrical color sequence yellow,
green, yellow. The yellow designs are surrounded by a heavy black
border.
[34] Reiss and Stübel, Necropolis of Ancon, p. 67 b, fig. 3.
[Illustration: Fig. 40. Peruvian fabric.]
[Illustration: Fig. 41. Peruvian fabric.]
In figure 41[35] we have another band which consists of diagonal
patterns framed by red lines except in one place where a black frame is
found. As on the preceding specimen the black serves to separate the
red and yellow. The design is the same all through, and the order of
the elements as follows:
[35] Ibid, p. 67, fig. 6.
yellow red yellow brown yellow
black frame black zig-zag red frame red zig-zag red frame
blue-green yellow purple
red zig-zag red frame red zig-zag
In other words the essential sequence is yellow, red, yellow, brown,
yellow, blue-green, yellow, purple; a series of eight elements.
[Illustration: Fig. 42. Peruvian fabric.]
In figure 42 we find a border of simple interlocking S shaped designs
in the order, white, dark blue, light blue, yellow, brown; a series of
five elements which are repeated regularly.
[Illustration: Fig. 43. Peruvian fabric.]
Figure 43 represents a part of a design on a poncho in which, from
above downward we have a series of six pairs of a fret design in the
following arrangement:
green, red
yellow, blue
white, purple
yellow, brown
light red, black
the sixth line repeats the color sequence of the first.
Figure 44 is a somewhat complicated design which is not completely
shown in the section here represented. The principle of the pattern is
illustrated in figure 44_b_. The sequence of color of the S shaped head
design is purple, yellow, green, on a red background.
In figure 45 we have a decorative band with the color sequence yellow,
green, yellow, green, light yellow, white, yellow, green, yellow;
obviously a series of six units. The designs on the background of these
colors are all in red.
[Illustration: _b_]
[Illustration: Fig. 44. Peruvian fabric.]
[Illustration: Fig. 45. Peruvian fabric.]
[Illustration: Fig. 46. Peruvian fabric.]
In figure 46 a border is shown which has the color arrangement, from
left to right:
pink—black,
red—yellow,
light gray—dark gray,
black—pink,
yellow—red,
dark gray—light gray.
In this specimen there is a systematic inversion of color values; what
is light in the first set of three is dark in the second three. This
tendency is quite marked in a considerable number of cases. We have for
instance, a series of
white, red, yellow;—gray, pink, yellow,
where the white corresponds to the dark gray and the red to the light
pink.
The tendency to this repetition of colors is shown very clearly in
Mexican codices. For example in the Codex Nuttall, p. 82 (fig. 47),
we find in the figure in the left hand lower corner a base in which
stepped triangles are used with the sequence: yellow, red, black,
yellow, purple, reddish brown. On the same page, the feather fringes
on the coats of the figures represented are in the same order. Quite
a number of feather dresses may be found in which the same order is
preserved, as for instance on page 81 of the same Codex. The order
in which these colors are given runs sometimes from left to right;
sometimes from right to left, as for instance in the feather dress of
the lowest left hand figure, page 81. Sometimes a different set of
colors is used. On the feather headdress of a figure, page 75, we find
the order:
white, red, yellow, blue, purple, brown,
white, purple, yellow, blue, red, brown (twice),
and the latter order is repeated in figures found on page 67 in the
left hand lower corner on a base; in reverse order on page 67 on a
feather coat and also on page 62 in stripes on the figures in the lower
right hand corner. It seems that in this codex the order of colors is
quite definitely fixed.
Remarkable rhythmic repetitions are found also on bead work from the
Zambesi. On quite a number of specimens the following order of colors
is regularly repeated:
_Black_ white red yellow _green_ yellow red white. Or written in
another way: _Green_ yellow red white _black_ white red yellow.
[Illustration: Fig. 47. Patterns from Mexican Codex.]
These occur on a belt, a woman’s apron, a necklace, and on two
mats[36]. In a number of places blue is substituted for green, and
brown for red.
[36] Muller et Snelleman, L’industrie des Caffres dans le sud-est de
l’Afrique. Pl. XIX figs. 3, 5, 7. Pl. XXIV figs. 1, 2.
The rhythmic repetition and symmetry appears most clearly when we
substitute numbers for colors. I designate
White 1, Red 2, Yellow 3, Brown 3′, Blue 4, Green 4′, Black 5.
According to the description of the belt first mentioned, as given by
the authors, there is a regular repetition in the following order:
1 2 3 | _4_ | 3´ 2 1 | _5_ | 1 2 3 | _4´_ | 3 2 1 | _5_ |
1 2 3 |4´|
The same order is found on the handle of an axe which is decorated with
colored zig-zag lines[37].
[37] _Ibid._, plate XI, fig. 1.
On a pouch[38] there is a lower field arranged in rows of diamonds,
followed by a middle field consisting of zig-zag bands, and an upper
field consisting again of diamonds.
[38] _Ibid._, plate XXIV, fig. 3.
In this the order is from below upward
2 1 _5_ 1 2 3 _4_ 3 2 | 4 3 5 1 5 3 5 1 |
diamonds zig-zags
2 3 _4_ 3 2
diamonds.
Like symmetry, rhythmic repetition runs generally on horizontal levels,
right and left, although not quite as preponderantly as symmetry.
Piling up of identical or similar forms occurs in nature as often as
lateral symmetry. Plants with their vertical succession of leaves,
branches of trees, piles of stones, ranges of mountains rising behind
one another, may suggest vertical arrangements of similar elements.
However, much more common are repetitions in horizontal bands; of
simple arrangements of single strokes in rows; and of complicated
successions of series of varied figures that recur in regular order
(fig. 48, Plate V).
It follows from what has been said before that the forms here discussed
are not expressive of specific emotional states and in this sense
significant.
This conclusion may be corroborated by a further examination of
decorative forms.
[Illustration: PLATE V.
Kumiss Goblets of the Yakut.]
We have already indicated that the artistic value of an object is not
due to the form alone, but that the method of manufacture gives to the
surface an artistic quality, either through its smoothness or through a
patterning that results from the technical processes employed. However,
the treatment of the surface is not controlled solely by technical
processes. We may observe that in the art products of people the world
over other elements occur that are due to the attempt to emphasize the
form.
[Illustration: Fig. 48. Pottery vessels: _a_ Finland; _b_ Ica, Peru.]
The application of marginal patterns is one of the most common methods
employed for this purpose. In many cases these are technically
determined. When, for instance, a woven basket is finished off, it
is necessary to fasten the loose strands and this leads generally to
a change of form and surface pattern in the rim. The strands may be
turned down, wrapped and sewed together, they may be braided, or woven
together and left standing as a fringe. In a bark basket the rim must
be strengthened by a band, to prevent splitting of the bark, and the
band and the sewing set off the rim from the body. A thin metal disk
may have to be strengthened by rolling in the outer rim.
[Illustration: Fig. 49. Birchbark vessels; _a_, _b_, Amur River; _c_,
Shuswap; _d_, _e_, Alaska.]
The birchbark basketry of western North America and of Siberia
presents an excellent example of a marginal pattern originating
through technical necessity and regularity of motor habits. Necessary
protection of the rim is obtained by sewing on a hoop. The grain of
the bark runs parallel to the rim and if the stitches were all passing
through the same grain the whole rim of the basket would tear off.
It is therefore necessary to make the holding stitches of different
lengths. This is done in the most effective way by beginning with
a short stitch which passes through the bark immediately under the
strengthening hoop, by making the next stitch a little longer and
the following still longer. In this way the distance from the first
short stitch has become long enough to permit a repetition of the new
short stitch and by continuing in this way a marginal pattern of right
triangles develops. The same result may be attained by alternating a
few short stitches with a few long ones. From this results a different
type of pattern. The same method is used by the Golds of southeastern
Siberia (fig. 49[39]).
[39] See for a fuller description the remarks by F. Boas in James Teit
“The Shuswap”, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific expedition,
Volume II, page 478-487.
[Illustration: Fig. 50. Pottery vessels; _a_, _b_, Chiriqui, Costa
Rica; _c_ Ontario.]
In woodwork, pottery and in most kinds of metal work these technical
motives are not present. Nevertheless marginal patterns are widely
distributed, although they cannot be explained on the basis of
technical considerations. It would be quite arbitrary to claim that
all these marginal patterns were primarily suggested in those types
of technique in which a distinctive treatment of the margin is a
necessity, for these are relatively few in number and of highly
specialized character, while rim patterns are well nigh universal. It
is instructive to observe that in coiled pottery the whole body of the
vessel is generally polished off and that sometimes the impressions
of the modelling fingers are left on the rim. There is no technical,
compelling reason that requires this mode of treatment, but it is
intelligible as an attempt to emphasize the form. Examples of this
mode of treatment are very numerous. Rows of small pellets, moulded
rims or incised lines along the rim of pots (fig. 50), small marginal
curves along the rim of bronze disks, lines accompanying the rims of
flat dishes and spoons such as are used by the Alaskan Eskimo, incised
lines on the rim of a soapstone pot of the Hudson Bay Eskimo, and on
their ivory combs (fig. 51), the spur line decoration of all the Eskimo
tribes (see fig. 78, p. 86), the jutting out of the rims of dishes from
Oceania, or on pots from ancient Europe are of this kind. As F. Adama
van Scheltema has justly pointed out, we cannot reduce this world-wide
tendency to any other ultimate cause than to a feeling for form, in
other words, to an esthetic impulse that prompts man to emphasize the
form of the object that he has made.
[Illustration: Fig. 51. _a_, Part of soapstone kettle; _b_, _c_, _d_,
Ivory combs, Eskimo.]
In a number of cases the form is not so much accentuated as rather set
off, closed in and separated from the surrounding space by a formal
limitation, a marginal line, thickening of the rim or a sharp crest,
by which means the individualization of the object is attained. Quite
often these limiting bands develop into decorative fields and serve
the double purpose of limitation and of decoration. They may attain an
individuality of their own.
When the surface itself is decorated, these lines or ornamental bands
serve the additional purpose of limiting and closing the decorative
field. Examples of this kind are very numerous. We find them in
borders of our rugs, in architectural decoration, when the corners
and roof lines of a building are formed by ornamental stone work, in
book binding,—in short in practically all forms of modern decorative
art, but no less in primitive art. Blankets of the Alaskan Indians
(see figs. 269 et seq., pp. 259 et seq.), bronze work of ancient
Scandinavia, prehistoric pottery of Europe and of Central America,
gable boards of New Zealand houses, belts from New Guinea, baskets from
British Guinea (fig. 81, p. 90) and wooden cups from the Congo region
illustrate this tendency (fig. 52).
[Illustration: Fig. 52. Wood carving, Bambala, Congo.]
There are, however, many cases in which the decoration is so closely
adapted to the form of the object that the stimulus for developing a
closing outline is not felt. The decoration of the field appears as
a picture fitted into the object. In still other cases the smooth,
undecorated marginal field serves as a border setting off the central
ornamented area. In basketry with radial decoration, we find often a
lack of border designs and a tendency to let the ornament run right up
to the rim where it seems cut off.
Another characteristic trait of decorative art must be mentioned.
Not only is the general form emphasized and limited, but its natural
divisions are determining elements in the application of decorative
patterns and bring it about that the decoration is arranged in distinct
fields. This is very apparent in pottery in which a neck is set off
from a body or in which the body is divided by a sharp angle into an
upper and a lower part. Such types are found in prehistoric European
art as well as in America (fig. 53).
On pouches of American Indians (fig. 54) body and flap are treated as
separate units. In moccasins, the uppers form a field separate from the
rim (fig. 55). In clothing, the patterns on collars, pockets or sleeves
are often considered as separate units. Wissler has called attention to
the influence of the structure of garments upon their decoration[40].
[40] Clark Wissler, Structural Basis to the Decoration of Costumes
among the Plains Indians, Anthrop. Papers Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., Vol. 17,
pp. 93 et seq.
[Illustration: Fig. 53. Pottery vessel, Molkenberg type, Megalithic
period.]
[Illustration: Fig. 54. Pouch, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 55. Embroidered moccasin, Apache.]
The tripartite division of the decorative field of Alaskan woven
blankets is determined by the position of the blanket. The wider middle
field is on the back of the wearer, the narrower, lateral fields are in
front of the body (see figs. 269 et seq., pp. 259 et seq.).
In garments made of single pieces of fabric, or in sewed basketry (fig.
56) we find the seams sometimes decorated so that the seam becomes a
decorative element. In other cases seams are accompanied by decorative
bands. In leggings and shirts of American Indians the seams are often
emphasized by the attachment of fringes.
In other objects prominent places are elaborated by the addition of
decorative elements.
[Illustration: Fig. 56. Birchbark vessels; _a_, _b_, _c_, Eastern
Indians; _d_, Koryak.]
[Illustration: Fig. 57. Pottery vessel, Arkansas.]
In clay pots, the handles are so treated (fig. 57). On shields the
central knob becomes an object of decoration. The handles of canes
or other knob-like terminations are often elaborated as decorative
elements.
Sometimes fields without natural breaks, such as wall surfaces, are
treated as units. Examples of this kind are our modern wall papers, or
the painted walls of ancient Egyptian buildings. Often the tendency to
break up the decorative field is so strong, that even where a natural
division is not given it may be broken up into smaller parts. We may
notice particularly that the marginal lines which emphasize or limit
the form, develop exuberantly and thus encroach more and more upon the
body of the object. In baskets from the interior of British Columbia
the marginal pattern has grown to such an extent that it occupies the
whole upper half or even more of the basket and is itself subdivided
into a number of fields that follow the outline of the margin (fig.
58). Similar conditions are found on the margins of blankets of the New
Zealanders (see Plate VIII, p. 182) and on the bronze work of ancient
Scandinavia.
[Illustration: Fig. 58. Imbricated basket, Chilcotin, British Columbia.]
Thus we reach the conclusion that a number of purely formal elements,
some of which are more or less closely connected with technical
motives, others with physiological conditions of the body and still
others with the general character of sense experience are determinants
of ornamental art. From this we conclude that a fundamental, esthetic,
formal interest is essential; and also that art, in its simple forms,
is not necessarily expressive of purposive action, but is rather based
upon our reactions to forms that develop through mastery of technique.
The same elements play also an important role in highly developed art
forms. If it is true that these elements are in part not purposive,
then it must be admitted that our relation to them is not essentially
different from those we have towards esthetically valuable phenomena of
nature. The formal interest is directly due to the impression derived
from the form. It is not expressive in the sense that it conveys a
definite meaning or expresses an esthetic emotion.
It might be thought that this condition prevails only in the domain of
decorative art, and that representative art, dance, music, and poetry
must always be expressive. This is to a great extent true so far as
representative art is concerned, for the term itself implies that the
art product represents a thought or an idea. It is also necessarily
true in poetry, in so far as its materials are words that convey
ideas. Nevertheless a formal element may be recognized in these also,
a form element quite analogous to the one we found in decorative art.
It determines certain aspects of the characteristic style. So far as
representative art is ornamental, the formal principles of decorative
art enter into the composition and influence the representative
form. In dance, music and poetry, rhythm and thematic forms follow
stylistic principles that are not necessarily expressive but that have
objectively an esthetic value. We shall discuss these questions more
fully at another place[41].
[41] See p. 301.
REPRESENTATIVE ART
While the formal elements which we have previously discussed are
fundamentally void of definite meaning, conditions are quite different
in representative art. The term itself implies that the work does not
affect us by its form alone, but also, sometimes even primarily, by its
content. The combination of form and content gives to representative
art an emotional value entirely apart from the purely formal esthetic
effect.
If has been customary to begin the discussion of representative art
with a consideration of the simple attempts of primitive people or of
children to draw objects that interest them. I believe that the art
problem is obscured by this procedure. The mere attempt to represent
something, perhaps to communicate an idea graphically, cannot be
claimed to be an art; just as little as the spoken word or the gesture
by means of which an idea is communicated, or an object,—perhaps
a spear, a shield or a box,—in which an idea of usefulness is
incorporated, is in itself a work of art. It is likely that an artistic
concept may sometimes be present in the mind of the maker or speaker,
but is becomes a work of art only when it is technically perfect, or
when it shows striving after a formal pattern. Gestures that have
rhythmical structure, words that have rhythmic and tonal beauty are
works of art; the implement of perfect form lays claim to beauty; and
the graphic or sculptural representation has an esthetic, an artistic
value, when the technique of representation has been mastered. When a
tyro attempts to create a work of art, we may recognize and study the
impulse, but the finished product teaches only his vain efforts to
master a difficult task. When man is confronted with a new problem like
the building of a house of new, unfamiliar material, he is apt to find
a solution, but this achievement is not art, it is a work adapted to a
practical end. It may be that the solution is intuitive, that is, that
it has not been found by an intellectual process, but after having been
solved it is subject to a rational explanation.
Just so when man has to represent an object, he is confronted with a
problem that demands a solution. The first solution is not an artistic
but a practical achievement. We are dealing with a work of art only
when the solution is endowed with formal beauty or strives for it. The
artistic work begins after the technical problem has been mastered.
[Illustration: Fig. 59 _a_. Embroidery, Huichol Indians, Mexico.]
When primitive man is given a pencil and paper and asked to draw
an object in nature, he has to use tools unfamiliar to him, and a
technique that he has never tried. He must break away from his ordinary
methods of work and solve a new problem. The result cannot be a work
of art,—except perhaps under very unusual circumstances. Just like the
child, the would-be artist is confronted with a task for which he lacks
technical preparation, and many of the difficulties that beset the
child beset him also. Hence the apparent similarity between children’s
drawings and those of primitive man. The attempt of both are made in
similar situations. A most characteristic case of this kind was told
to me by Mr. Birket-Smith. He asked an Eskimo of Iglulik to draw with
a pencil on a piece of paper a walrus hunt. The native was unable to
accomplish this task and after several attempts he took a walrus tusk
and carved the whole scene in ivory, a technique with which he was
familiar.
[Illustration: Fig. 59 _b_. Embroidery, Huichol Indians, Mexico.]
[Illustration: Fig. 60. Decorated fishskin garment, Amur River.]
The contrast between representation for the sake of representation and
representation as a work of art appears clearly in many cases. I select
a few examples. The Indians of the mountains of northwestern Mexico
wear beautifully embroidered or woven clothing, the designs of which
are largely based on Spanish motives. Heraldic patterns and isolated
animal figures combined with geometrical forms are the constituent
elements (fig. 59 _a_). Besides these embroidered and woven fabrics,
which are of excellent workmanship, we find small embroidered rags
(fig. 59 _b_), which are attached to arrows and serve the purpose
of representing a prayer to a deity. A roughly outlined figure of
a child expresses a prayer for the health of the child; that of a
deer, a prayer for success in hunting. The arrows with the attached
rags are stuck into the thatched roof of a temple where they are
allowed to decay. They are not intended as works of art but only as
representations that serve a temporary purpose; hence the disregard of
form and of exactness of workmanship.
[Illustration: PLATE VI.
Shaman’s Dress, Amur River.]
Quite similar observations may be made on the clothing of the Amur
tribes. The skin clothing worn by the people, particularly on festive
occasions, is beautifully ornamented in appliqué, or by painting. The
ornaments are in part geometrical, in part representative. Figures of
birds and fish abound (fig. 60). On the other hand the painted dresses
of shamans are roughly executed (Plate VI). They represent mythological
concepts and have a value solely on account of their meaning. The
interest does not center in the form. As compared to wearing apparel
they are crudely done, for the beauty of execution is of minor
importance.
[Illustration: Fig. 61. Upper row, pictographs of Ojibwa Indians; lower
row, of Dakota Indians.]
A third example is found among the North American Indians of the Great
Plains. Their representative art, in the strict sense of the term, is
almost entirely confined to a crude form of picture writing. They have
not developed a high technique of painting and the forms of horses,
men, buffaloes and tents are merely reminders of incidents in the life
of the people. The figures (fig. 61) are in no way ornamental and
bear no relation to the object on which they are depicted. They are
made for the purpose of representation only. They are not art in the
rigid sense of the term. Judging from the character of the figures
and their use we may safely say that the artistic interest is entirely
absent. We may even apply this observation to the picture writing of
the ancient Mexicans (fig. 62), which, as compared to their sculpture,
is of inferior value. The importance of communicating ideas outweighs
the artistic interest. We shall see later on that nevertheless there is
a definite relation between artistic style and the forms of inartistic
painting (see p. 164).
[Illustration: Fig. 62. Mexican painting from Codex Borbonicus.]
Incidentally it may be remarked here that the difference in interest
sometimes leads to contrasting art styles, provided the representative
work is also executed in a perfectly controlled technique. Thus the
Northwest Americans who have a very characteristic style of art
sometimes make carvings that are intended to deceive by their realism.
In one of their ceremonies a person is apparently decapitated and after
the decapitation the head is shown held by the hair. This head is
carved in wood and done with great care in a most realistic fashion. It
is entirely free of the stylistic characteristics of Northwest coast
carving and painting (see fig. 156, p. 185).
We revert now to a consideration of the simple, crude representative
drawings. The most important inference that may be drawn from the
study of such representations, graphic as well as plastic, is that the
problem of representation is first of all solved by the use of symbolic
forms. There is no attempt at accurate delineation. Neither primitive
man nor the child believes that the design or the figure he produces is
actually an accurate picture of the object to be represented. A round
knob on an elongated cylinder may represent head and body; two pairs of
thin, straight strips of rounded cross section, arms and legs; or in a
drawing a circle over a rectangle may suggest head and body; straight
lines, arms and legs; short diverging lines at the ends of arms and
legs, hand and feet.
[Illustration: Fig. 63. _a_, Carved figure, Philippine Islands; _b_,
Marble figure representing harpist, Thera.]
The break between symbolic representation and realism may occur in one
of two ways. The artist may endeavor to render the form of the object
to be represented in forceful outline and subordinate all consideration
of detail under the concept of the mass as a whole. He may even discard
all details and cover the form with more or less fanciful decoration
without losing the effect of realism of the general outline and of
the distribution of surfaces and of masses. On the other hand, he may
endeavor to give a realistic representation of details and his work may
consist of an assembly of these, with little regard to the form as a
whole.
An excellent example of the former method is the Filipino wood carving,
fig. 63 _a_. Head and chest show the concentration of the artist upon
the delimiting surfaces and an utter disregard of detail. The same
method is used in the figure of a harpist belonging to the ancient art
of the Cyclades (fig. 63 _b_).
In fig. 64, an African mask, the surfaces of forehead, eyes, cheeks
and nose are the determinants of the form which has been treated
decoratively with the greatest freedom. There are no ears; the eyes are
slits with geometrical ornaments; the mouth a circle enclosing a cross.
In fig. 65, representing a painted carving from New Guinea, the outline
of the face, emphasized by the hair line, eyes, and mouth, is easily
recognized, but all the other parts are treated purely decoratively.
[Illustration: Fig. 64. Wooden mask, Urua, Congo.]
[Illustration: Fig. 65. Carved board, Papua Gulf, New Guinea.]
The opposite method is found, for instance, in Egyptian paintings and
reliefs in which eyes, nose, hands, and feet are shown with a fair
degree of realism, but composed in ways that distort the natural form
and which are perspectively impossible (fig. 66). A still better
example is the drawing, fig. 67, an attempt of one of the best Haida
artists from Northern British Columbia to illustrate the story of
an eagle carrying away a woman. The face of the woman is evidently
intended as a three-quarter view. Facial painting will be noticed on
the left cheek; the left ear only is shown as seen in profile; the
mouth with teeth is placed under the nose in mixed full profile and
front view, and has been moved to the right side of the face. In the
lower lip is a large labret shown _en face_, for only in this view
was the artist able to show the labret with its characteristic oval
surface. The nose seems to be drawn in profile although the nostrils
appear _en face_.
[Illustration: Fig. 66. Egyptian painting.]
[Illustration: Fig. 67. Haida drawing representing eagle carrying away
a woman.]
In a graphic representation of objects one of two points of view may be
taken: it may be considered as essential that all the characteristic
features be shown, or the object may be drawn as it appears at any
given moment. In the former case our attention is directed primarily
towards those permanent traits that are most striking and by which we
recognize the object, while others that are not characteristic, or at
least less characteristic, are considered as irrelevant. In the latter
case we are interested solely in the visual picture that we receive
at any given moment, and the salient features of which attract our
attention.
This method is more realistic than the other only if we claim that the
essence of realism is the reproduction of a single momentary visual
image and if the selection of what appears a salient feature to us is
given a paramount value.
In sculpture or modelling in the round these problems do not appear
in the same form. Here also attention may be directed primarily
towards the representation of the essential, and the same principles
of selection may appear that are found in graphic art, but the
arrangement of the parts does not offer the same difficulties that
are always present in graphic representation. As soon as man is
confronted with the problem of representing a three-dimensional object
on a two-dimensional surface and showing in a single, permanent
position an object that changes its visual appearance from time to
time, he must make a choice between these two methods. It is easily
intelligible that a profile view of an animal in which only one eye
is seen and in which one whole side disappears may not satisfy as a
realistic representation. The animal _has two_ eyes and _two_ sides.
When it turns I see the other side; it exists and should be part of a
satisfying picture. In a front view the animal appears foreshortened.
The tail is invisible and so are the flanks; but the animal has tail
and flanks and they ought to be there. We are confronted with the
same problem in our representations of maps of the whole world. In
a map on Mercator projection, or in our planiglobes, we distort the
surface of the globe in such a way that all parts are visible. We are
interested only in showing, in a manner as satisfactory as possible,
the interrelations between the parts of the globe. We combine in one
picture aspects that could never be seen at one glance. The same is
true in orthogonal architectural drawings, particularly when two
adjoining views taken at right angles to each other, are brought
into contact, or in copies of designs in which the scenes or designs
depicted on a cylinder, a vase, or a spherical pot are developed on a
flat surface in order to show at a single glance the interrelations of
the decorative forms. In drawings of objects for scientific study we
may also sometime adopt a similar view-point, and in order to elucidate
important relations, draw as though we were able to look around the
corner or through the object. Different moments are represented in
diagrams in which mechanical movements are illustrated and in which, in
order to explain the operation of a device, various positions of moving
parts are shown.
In primitive art both solutions have been attempted: the perspective
as well as that showing the essential parts in combination. Since the
essential parts are symbols of the object, we may call this method the
symbolic one. I repeat that in the symbolic method those features are
represented that are considered as permanent and essential, and that
there is no attempt on the part of the draftsman to confine himself to
a reproduction of what he actually sees at a given moment.
It is easy to show that these points of view are not by any means
absent in European art. The combination of different moments in one
painting appears commonly in earlier art,—for instance when in Michel
Angelo’s painting Adam and Eve appear on one side of the tree of
knowledge in Paradise and on the other side of the tree as being driven
out by the angel. As a matter of fact, every large canvass contains a
combination of distinct views. When we direct our eyes upon a scene
we see only a small limited area distinctly, the points farther away
appear the more blurred and indistinct the farther removed they are
from the center. Nevertheless most of the older paintings of large
scenes represent all parts with equal distinctness, as they appear to
our eyes when they wander about and take in all the different parts
one by one. Rembrandt forced the attention of the spectator upon his
main figures by strong lights, as upon the swords in the great scene
of the conspiracy of Claudius Civilis and his Batavians against the
Romans, but the distant figures are distinct in outline, although in
dark colors. On the other hand, Hodler, in his painting of a duel draws
compelling attention to the points of the swords which are painted in
sharp outline while everything else is the more indistinct the farther
removed it is from the point on which the interest of the artist
centers.
Traits considered as permanent characteristics play a rôle even in
modern art. Until very recent times the complexion of man was conceived
as essentially permanent. At least the strong changes that actually
occur in different positions have not been painted until very recent
times. A person of fair complexion standing between a green bush and
a red brick wall has certainly a face green on one side and red on
the other, and if the sun shines on his forehead it may be at times
intensely yellow. Still we are, or at least were, not accustomed to
depict these eminently realistic traits. We rather concentrate our
attention upon what is permanent in the individual complexion as seen
in ordinary diffuse daylight. We are accustomed to see the accidental
momentary lights weakened in favor of the permanent impression.
In primitive, symbolic representations these permanent traits appear
in the same way, sometimes strongly emphasized. It will be readily
seen that children’s drawings are essentially of the character here
described. They are not memory images, as Wundt claims, except in so
far as the symbols are remembered and reminders, but compositions of
what to the child’s mind appears essential, perhaps also as feasible.
A person has two eyes which have their most characteristic form in
front view, a prominent nose which is most striking in profile; hands
with fingers which are best seen when the palms are turned forward;
feet the form of which is clear only in profile. The body is essential
and so is the clothing, hence the so-called Röntgen pictures in which
covered parts are drawn. These drawings are a collection of symbols
held together more or less satisfactorily by a general outline,
although single traits may be misplaced. The same traits prevail
commonly in primitive drawings. When Karl von den Steinen had the
South American Indians draw a white man, they placed the moustache
as a characteristic symbol on the forehead, for it sufficed to place
it as a symbol on the most available space. The Egyptian paintings
with their mixture of profile and front views and transparent objects
through which hidden parts may be seen (fig. 68) must be viewed in the
same manner. They are not by any means proof of an inability to see and
draw perspectively; they merely show that the interest of the people
centered in the full representation of the symbols.
[Illustration: Fig. 68. Egyptian drawings; above: bowl and pitcher;
below: sleeping person covered by blanket.]
When exceptionally great weight is attached to the symbol, so that
it entirely outweighs the interest in the outline, the general form
may be dwarfed and forms originate that, from our perspective point
of view, lose all semblance of realism. The most characteristic
case of this kind is found in the art of the Northwest coast of
America, in which the whole animal form is reduced to an assembly of
disconnected symbols. A beaver is adequately represented by a large
head with two pairs of large incisors and a squamous tail (see pp. 186
et seq.). However, in this case we are no longer dealing with crude
representations, but with a highly developed art. Its form proves that
in its development symbolic representation has been of fundamental
importance.
[Illustration: Fig. 69. Eskimo etching on walrus tusk, Alaska.]
[Illustration: Fig. 70. Bushman rock paintings.]
[Illustration: Fig. 71. Paleolithic painting representing bison.]
The second form of representation is by means of perspective drawing,
in which the momentary visual impression regardless of the presence or
absence of characteristic symbols, is utilized. This method is not by
any means absent in the drawings of primitive man as well as in those
of children, but it is not as common as symbolic representation. In a
way most crude symbolic forms contain a perspective element, although
it does not extend over the whole figure, but only over parts which
are more or less skilfully put together, so that a semblance of the
general outline is maintained. This is the case in Egyptian paintings,
in those of Australians and in North American picture writing (see
figs. 61, 62). In other cases the art of perspective drawing rises to
real excellence. The silhouettes of the Eskimo may be mentioned as a
case in point (fig. 69). Their figures are always small, scratched into
ivory, antler or bone, and filled with hachure or with black pigment.
Form and pose are well-done. Although there is generally no perspective
arrangement of groups, each figure is well executed and renders a
single visual impression. We find perspective of groups in the rock
paintings of South Africa (fig. 70), not perfect, but indicated by the
overcutting of figures and by the relative sizes of objects near by and
of those seen at a distance. Perspective realism of single figures is
even more fully developed in the paintings of later paleolithic man,
found in the caves of southern France and of Spain (fig. 71). Less
skilful efforts at perspective representation are not rare. On mattings
from the Congo region, on basketry hats from Vancouver Island (fig.
72) rather clumsy attempts have been made. In those from the former
region there are animals in profile in the latter whaling scenes: men
going out in a canoe and hauling in a harpooned whale.
Much more common are carvings in wood, bone or stone, or pottery
objects that are not symbolic but true to nature. Ivory carvings of the
Eskimo, Chukchee and Koryak (fig. 73), prehistoric carvings, pottery
from North America are examples.
[Illustration: Fig. 72. Hat of the Nootka Indians.]
As stated before, a sharp line between the two methods of graphic
representation cannot be drawn. In most cases symbolic representations
are at least in part perspective, either in so far as the general
form is maintained, or as parts are shown in perspective form; while
perspective representations may contain symbolic elements. When
the Pueblo Indian paints the form of a deer with a fair degree of
perspective accuracy (see fig. 142, p. 167), but adds to it a line
running from the mouth to the heart as an essential symbol of life;
or when the symbols are arranged with a fair degree of correspondence
to perspective order we have forms in which both tendencies may be
observed. Indeed, some degree of conventional symbolism is found in
every drawing or painting, the more so, the more sketchy it is; in
other words, the more the representation is confined to salient traits.
This is particularly true in all forms of caricature.
If representative art did develop into absolute realism, stereoscopic
color photography would be the highest type of art, but this is
obviously not the case. Setting aside the emotional appeal of the
object itself, an accurate copy of a natural object, such as a glass
flower, a painted carving, an imitation of natural sounds or a
pantomime may attain an intense emotional appeal, they may excite our
admiration on account of the skill of execution; their artistic value
will always depend upon the presence of a formal element that is not
identical with the form found in nature.
[Illustration: Fig. 73. Koryak carvings.]
Stress must be laid upon the distinctive points of view from which the
two methods of graphic representation develop, because the development
of perspective drawing is often represented as growing out of the
cruder symbolic method. As a matter of fact the two have distinct
psychological sources which remain active in the early, as well as
in the late history of art. Vierkandt[42] designates the various
methods of representation as suggestive (andeutend), descriptive
(beschreibend), and perspective (anschaulich). Of these the former
two correspond to what I have called here symbolic. They differ
only in the more or less fragmentary character of the symbols. The
perspective type does not develop from the former two as the result
of an evolution; it is based on a distinct mental attitude, the early
presence of which is manifested by the realistic, perspective paintings
of a number of primitive tribes.
[42] Das Zeichnen der Naturvölker, Zeitschrift für angewandte
Psychologie, Vol. 6, (1912), pp. 347 et seq.
The theory of a continuous development from symbolic to realistic art
is one of the numerous attempts to prove a continuous development of
cultural forms, a steady, unbroken evolution. This view-point has had a
deep influence upon the whole theory of ethnology. Evolution, meaning
the continuous change of thought and action, or historic continuity,
must be accepted unreservedly. It is otherwise, when it is conceived as
meaning the universally valid continuous development of one cultural
form out of a preceding type, such as the assumed development of
economic forms from food gathering through herding to agriculture.
In past times these three stages were assumed to be characteristic
of all human development, until it was recognized that there is no
connection between the invention of agriculture and the domestication
of animals,—the former developed through the occupation of woman who
gathered the vegetable food supply, the latter through the devotion
of men to the chase. The men had no occasion to become familiar with
the handling of plants, and the women had just as little opportunity
of dealing with animals. The development of agriculture and of herding
can, therefore, not possibly be derived from the same sources.
It is no less arbitrary to assume that social forms must have developed
in regular universally valid sequence, one certain stage always being
based on the same preceding one in all parts of the world. There is no
evidence that would compel us to assume that matrilineal organizations
always preceded patrilineal or bilateral ones. On the contrary, it
seems much more likely that the life of hunters in single family units,
or that of larger groups in more fertile areas has led to entirely
different results. We may expect continuous evolution only in those
cases in which the social and psychological conditions are continuous.
After this brief excurse, let us revert to our subject. Representations
become works of art only when the technique of their manufacture is
perfectly controlled, at least by a number of individuals; in other
words, when they are executed by one of the processes, that are
industrially in common use. Where carving is practiced, we may expect
artistic form in carvings; where painting, pottery, or metal work
prevail, artistic form is found in the products of those industries in
which the highest degree of technical skill is attained. The Eskimo
carves in ivory, antler or bone, of which he makes his harpoons and
many other utensils; his best representative work is made with the
knife and consists of small carvings and etchings in which he applies
the same methods that he employs every day. The New Zealander carves
in wood, makes delicate stonework, and paints; his best representative
work is made by these methods. Metal work and ivory carvings from
Benin (fig. 74), headmasks from the Cameroons (fig. 75, p. 82), wood
carvings from the Northwest coast of America (see figs. 154-156, pp.
184, 185), pottery from Peru, from the Yoruba country (fig. 76, p. 82),
Central America and Arkansas (fig. 77, p. 85), basketry of the Pima,
embroideries (see fig. 39, p. 47) and woven fabrics of the Peruvians
are other examples.
[Illustration: Fig. 74. Bronze casting, Benin.]
[Illustration: Fig. 75. Headmask, Cross River, Cameroon.]
[Illustration: Fig. 76. Terra cotta head from Ife, Yoruba country.]
Since representations that are intended to have artistic value are
made in the most highly developed technique it is not surprising
that the formal style of the technique gains an influence over the
form of the representation. The angular lines of weaving with coarse
materials and the steplike forms of diagonals which are determined
by this technique impress themselves often upon representations and
become part and parcel of a local style. There develops an intimate
relation between the formal and representative elements that brings it
about that representation receives a formal value entirely apart from
its significance. The deeper the influence of the formal, decorative
element upon the method of representation, the more probable it becomes
that formal elements attain an emotional value. An association between
these two forms of art is established which leads, on the one hand to
the conventionalization of representative design, on the other to the
imputation of significance into formal elements. It is quite arbitrary
to assume a one-sided development from the representative to the
formal or _vice versa_, or even to speak of a gradual transformation
of a representative form into a conventional one, because the artistic
presentation itself can proceed only on the basis of the technically
developed forms. At another place we shall discuss this subject more
fully (see pp. 118 et seq.).
In all aspects of life may be observed the controlling influence of
pattern, that is of some typical form of behaviour. As we think in a
pattern of objective, material causality, primitive man thinks in a
pattern in which subjective causality is an important element. As our
personal relations to blood relatives are determined by the pattern
of our family, so the corresponding relations in other societies are
governed by their social patterns. The interpretation of the pattern
may change, but its form is apt to continue over long periods.
The same stability of pattern may be observed in the art products
of man. When a definite type has once been established, it exerts a
compelling influence over new artistic attempts. When its control
continues over a long period it may happen that representations
are cast in an iron mould and that the most diverse subjects take
similar forms. It appears then as though the old pattern had been
misunderstood and new forms had developed from it. Thus, according to
Von den Steinen, the figurines on carvings from the Marquesas, which
originally represented two figures back to back, have determined the
type of entirely new representations, or, as he prefers to put it,
they have been misunderstood and developed in new ways. I do not doubt
that in some cases this process of misinterpretation occurs, but it is
not the one that interests us at this place. Striking examples of the
overmastering influence of a pattern may be found in many parts of the
world. The style of the Northwest coast of America is so rigid that
all animal figures represented on plain surfaces are cast in the same
mould (see pp. 185 et seq.); the overwhelming frequency of the spiral
in New Zealand is another example; the interwoven animal figures of
early medieval Germanic art; the angular patterns of the North American
Indians (see p. 176); all these illustrate the same condition. In an
art, the technique of which does not admit the use of curved lines
and in which decorative patterns have developed, there is no room for
curved lines, and the curved outlines of objects are broken up into
angular forms. The patterns, or as we usually say, the style, dominates
the formal as well as the representative art.
However, the style is not by any means completely determined by the
general formal tendencies which we have discussed, nor by the relations
between these elements and the decorative field, but it depends upon
many other conditions.
One more point must be discussed here. Attention has been called to
the apparent absence of purely formal elements in the art of those
tribes that are from an economical and industrial point of view most
primitive, namely the modern Bushmen of South Africa, the Eskimo
of Arctic North America, the Australians, and in remote times, the
paleolithic hunters. The statement is not quite correct, as has already
been pointed out by Vierkandt, because other tribes that live on the
same industrial level, do not share these characteristics; particularly
the Veddah and the Andaman Islanders. Furthermore, it is not by any
means certain that the South African rock sculptures were made by the
Bushmen. It seems fairly certain that the best ones of those recorded
were made in early times and that the living Bushmen know little
about their origin. In the South African paintings and petroglyphs
and in the art works of the other tribes mentioned before, we find a
highly developed realistic art which exhibits an astonishing truth of
perspective perception, in rest as well as in motion. Verworn has based
on this observation a distinction of what he calls the physioplastic
and ideoplastic art; the former containing truthful, momentary visual
images, the latter representing nature remodeled by thought and
therefore, in a conventional style.
[Illustration: Fig. 77. Pottery head from Arkansas.]
I do not believe that the assignment of these styles to distinct levels
of culture is tenable, for physioplastic representations are not by
any means confined to the tribes of simplest economic structure,
nor, as indicated just now, are they common to all of them. We must
avoid in these matters, as well as in all other ethnic questions,
treating tribes too much as standardized units. Individual variation
in physical appearance as well as in mental life is as important in
primitive society as in our own. There are artists and craftsmen in all
forms of society, as there are believers and unbelievers; there are
creative artists who rise above the level of the skilful artisan and
tradesmen who are satisfied with a slavish, though accurate adhesion
to existing patterns. Where representative art has fallen under the
rigid control of technique, there is little opportunity for the
development of a naturalistic style; where the technique is free, there
we may also expect free forms. This condition is realized in two ways,
namely, in those cases in which representative art is not enslaved by
a one-sided technique, and under conditions in which a high degree
of freedom in the use of a variety of technical processes has been
attained. A study of the whole range of art products shows that where
a technique is practised that gives tree range to the development of
form, naturalistic forms, that is forms relatively free of stylistic
mannerisms, although sometimes of bold generalization, occur. Carving
in wood, bone, ivory or stone, and modelling in clay are the principal
arts that give this freedom which is not so easily found in graphic
representation. Therefore we find in many cultures that are otherwise
under the strict control of conventional style, at least occasionally
figures in the round that are naturalistic. Examples are found in the
art of the North Pacific Coast; in bronze castings, wood carvings
and clay figures of Africa (figs. 74-76); in pottery of the ancient
inhabitants of Arkansas (fig. 77); and in stone work from Mexico, as
well as in Peruvian pottery. On the other hand, our modern realism
is based on the emancipation from a single rigid style that controls
all art production. Such freedom is not found to the same extent in
primitive art with its more limited number of technical processes.
[Illustration: Fig. 78. Ivory and bone carvings, and tattooing of
eastern Eskimo.]
Another error seems to me to underlie the theory propounded by Max
Verworn. It is not only incorrect to assume that representations true
to nature are confined to tribes on the lowest economic and industrial
level, it can also be shown that at least those living at the present
time have ideoplastic art as well as physioplastic art. This is
particularly true of the Eskimo. While they do produce a remarkable
number of realistic carvings and etchings, they also have a number of
conventional, geometric designs which are of regular occurrence. Most
prominent among these are the alternating spurline and the sequence
of Y shaped figures (fig. 78). The latter has sometimes a symbolic
meaning, just as other conventional geometric designs among other
groups of people. With small circles at the end of the bifurcated Y
it is interpreted as a flower. Furthermore, the clothing of men and
women is always decorated with motives that indicate or emphasize the
parts of the body they cover, as the shoulderblades or the breastbone.
Particularly among the Alaskan is this conventional art ideoplastic in
the meaning of Verworn.
We have also shown examples of the geometric, ornamental art of the
Bushmen (fig. 8, p. 23); however, we do not know whether it has a
symbolic meaning. Their ornamental art is very meagre because they have
so little that can become the subject of ornamentation.
It seems more than likely that man of later paleolithic time whose
implements are quite on the same level as those of modern primitive
tribes, who adorned his body and who used geometrical ornaments on
his bone implements, decorated also his clothing and other perishable
possessions of which no trace remains. If we imagine the remains of
the modern Indians of the plains, or those of Australians exposed for
thousands of years to the wet climate of Europe, nothing would remain
to give us an insight into the complexity of their culture and into the
existence of their symbolic, that is, ideoplastic art.
SYMBOLISM
We have seen that in the art of primitive people two elements may be
distinguished; a purely formal one in which enjoyment is based on form
alone, and another one in which the form is filled with meaning. In
the latter case the significance creates an enhanced esthetic value,
on account of the associative connections of the art product or of
the artistic act. Since these forms are significant they must be
representative, not necessarily representative of tangible objects, but
sometimes of more or less abstract ideas.
In our previous discussion we have also shown that representative
art may be, and generally is, strongly influenced by technical form,
so much so, that in many cases the natural prototype is not readily
recognized.
It is remarkable that in the art of many tribes the world over,
ornament that appears to us as purely formal, is associated with
meanings, that it is interpreted. Karl von den Steinen found that the
geometrical patterns of the Brazilian Indians represented fish, bats,
bees, and other animals, although the triangles and diamonds of which
they consist bear no apparent relation to these animal forms. The
design on top in figure 79 represents bats, indicated by the black
triangles. The figure below it represents the uluri, a small object
of clay used by women in place of a breech clout. The third figure
represents a fish, the large scales of which are indicated by diamonds.
The fourth and fifth figures also represent fish, while the last one is
called young bees.
[Illustration: Fig. 79. Ornaments of the Auetö Brazil.]
[Illustration: Fig. 80. Ornaments of the Karayá.]
A number of clay dishes that were said to represent animals were in
part characterized by distinct heads, limbs, and tails, while others
bore no resemblance to the forms that they were claimed by the natives
to represent. A general similarity of form, however, exists between the
purely conventional and the realistic forms, which suggested to Von
den Steinen the conclusion that the former developed from the latter.
Later on Ehrenreich corroborated these observations both in South and
North America. A small number of designs with names are shown in fig.
80. The diamonds in the first figure on top, represents wasps nests and
may be compared to the young bees in fig. 79. The zig-zag band in the
second figure, which is symmetrically arranged and has rhythmically
repeated elements of unequal lengths, represents bats. In form these
are identical with the frigate bird of New Ireland (see fig. 101, p.
107). The third figure from the top represents the marking on the skin
of the rattlesnake, and the remaining figures also are marks on the
skin of various snakes.
[Illustration: Fig. 81. Basketry patterns from British Guyana; _a_,
snake pursuing frog; _b_, man; _c_, dog; _d-f_, wild nutmeg.]
W. E. Roth has recorded the significance of basketry designs of the
Indians of British Guiana.[43] Some of these designs contain realistic
figures, but many of them are geometrical derivatives of zig-zag bands
and meandric forms such as occur on coarse twined basketry in many
parts of the world. Most of these forms are explained as animals; some
identified by their form, others imitating the pattern of the skin
or being suggestive of parts of the body. There are also a number of
plant representations (figs. 81, 82). In some of these the meaning of
the form is readily recognized as in the snake pursuing a frog (fig.
81 _a_) or in the human form (fig. 81 _b_). The body of the snake is
represented by a broad meander, its head by a triangle. To the right
of the head is the frog. Less evident is the dog shown in fig. 81 _c_.
The interpretation of the designs in figs. 81 _d_, _e_ and _f_ and 82
seems quite arbitrary. The meanders fig. 81 _d-f_ represent the wild
nutmeg. In _e_ the vertical connecting bar of the double T represents
the main branches, the horizontal one the secondary branches. Fig. 82
_a_ is called the centipede, _b_ savanna grass, _c-f_ periwinkles, _g_
butterflies, and the three designs _h-j_ represent snakes. The square
in the pattern in the left hand lower corner of _j_ is the head of the
snake.
[43] W. E. Roth “Introductory Study of Arts, Crafts, and Customs of
the Guiana Indians” 38th Annual Report, Bureau of American Ethnology,
Washington 1924, pp. 354 et seq.
[Illustration: Fig. 82. Basketry patterns from British Guyana; _a_,
Centiped; _b_, Savannah grass; _c-f_, Periwinkles; _g_, Butterflies;
_h-j_, Snakes.]
Ehrenreich was the first to observe the highly developed symbolism of
the North American Indians and his observation gave the impetus to the
studies of North American art which were largely instituted by the
American Museum of Natural History in New York. His observations were
made among the Cheyenne, and on account of their importance, they may
be quoted here;[44] “Representations of heavenly phenomena are found
in their highest development among the agricultural Pueblo tribes,
whose whole cult consists essentially in magic performances intended
to secure rain. Besides this, geographical motives are used, such as
mountains, rivers, trails, camping sites, which are important to the
Indians who inhabit the endless prairies. A typical example is found on
the ornament taken from a moccasin (fig. 83 _a_) in which a dark blue
series of triangles represent mountains, a light blue stripe a river, a
red one a trail. A second ornament, also taken, from a moccasin (Fig.
83 _b_) shows a series of tents. Red dots in the triangular tents
represent fire.
[44] Ethnologisches Notizblatt, vol. II, 1, pp. 27 et seq. (1899).
[Illustration: Fig. 83. Designs of the Cheyenne Indians.]
“The hoods of cradle boards are generally richly ornamented. The
design of a specimen purchased by me is of peculiar interest on
account of the representation of abstract ideas (Fig. 83 _c_, _d_).
As usual, the upper surface of the hood is white, which color, in the
symbolism of the Indians designates the sky and life. The margin is
formed by a green line and the whole surface is divided into three
fields by two convergent blue lines. The large lateral fields are
strictly symmetrical. They contain three groups of stars represented by
rectangles. The lowest line,—four red rectangles with enclosed green
centers,—represent large, bright stars; and the top row, red without
centers, are the children of the stars. It is uncertain whether by this
term the smallest stars or falling stars are meant.
“The middle field, bounded by blue lines, represents the path of life
of the child. In this field are found peculiar green figures which
terminate above and below in T shaped ends. They are diamond-shaped
and enclose a red and yellow checkerwork. They designate the child’s
good luck or the success that he will have in life. In this case green
symbolizes growth and development; yellow, maturity and perfection;
red, blood, life and good-fortune; all of which are related to the
deities. The lower rim of the hood is interrupted on both sides by
small white and blue squares. These are said to represent the child’s
age. I did not learn what was meant by this expression. Probably the
change of seasons was meant, since the alternation of blue and white
signifies the change of winter and summer.
“The hood ends in a square flap which bears in its center a green
diamond terminating in cross bars, but smaller and simpler than the
corresponding figures of the central field. It represents the heart.
The blue lines and angles in the corners of the flap are continued in
the same way on the opposite side. They represent the unexpected events
of life. Attachments on each side are the child’s ears; the short lines
of beads embroidered on the back of the flap represents the hair of the
child.”
Based on these results a somewhat extended study of the symbolism
of American Indian art was undertaken, in the course of which A. L.
Kroeber investigated the art of the Arapaho; Roland B. Dixon, that
of the Californian tribes; Clark Wissler, that of the Sioux and
Blackfeet, and H. H. St. Clair that of the Shoshone. Later on the study
was extended over other adjacent areas.
[Illustration: Fig. 84. Moccasin, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 85. Knife case, Arapaho.]
The results obtained by Kroeber indicate a close similarity between the
symbolism of the Arapaho and that of the Cheyenne. Here also abstract
ideas appear in considerable number. It will suffice here to give a
few examples. On a moccasin[45] (fig. 84) “the longitudinal stripe
signifies the path to destination. A small stripe at the heel of the
moccasin (not shown in the figure) signifies the opposite idea, the
place whence one has come. The variety of color in the larger stripe
represents a variety of things (which naturally are of many different
colors) that one desires to possess. The small dark blue rectangles
are symbols that are called ‘hiiteni’[46]. The white border of this
moccasin, on account of its color, represents snow. The figures in
it represent hills with upright trees. The stripe over the instep
signifies ‘up hill and down again’ (its middle portion being elevated
above the ends by the instep of the foot). The dots in this stripe
represent places left bare by the melting snow.” The knife scabbard[47]
represented in fig. 85 “has at the top a cross signifying a person. The
triangles above and below it are mountains. On the lower part, on the
middle line, are three green squares, symbols of life or abundance.
Red slanting lines pointing towards the squares are thoughts or wishes
directed towards the desired objects, represented by the life symbols.”
[45] A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bulletin American Museum of Natural
History, Vol. XVIII, pp. 39, 40.
[46] _Hiiteni_ is explained as meaning life, abundance, food,
prosperity, temporal blessings, desire or hope for food, prayer for
abundance, or the things wished for (A. L. Kroeber, _ibid._, p. 40).
[47] l. c. p. 88.
Observations among the Sioux Indians made by Clark Wissler have given
similar results. The design on a legging (fig. 86) may serve as an
example. It represents a battle.[48] The diamond-shaped center is here
the body of a man. The large triangles are the tents of the village in
which the battle took place. The pronged figures represent wounds and
blood; the straight lines supporting them, the flight of arrows. The
crossed lines are said to represent arrows and lances.
[48] Clark Wissler, Decorative art of the Sioux Indians, Bulletin
American Museum of Natural History, Vol. XVIII, p. 253.
[Illustration: Fig. 86. Legging, Sioux Indians.]
The Assiniboine, a closely related branch of the Sioux, did not yield
much information in regard to the meaning of designs, but the few
fragments collected by Robert H. Lowie[49] show that the principles
found among other tribes are or were not unknown to them. The designs
found on a drum illustrate this (fig. 87).
[49] Robert H. Lowie, The Assiniboine, Anthropological Papers American
Museum of Natural History, Vol. IV, p. 26.
“The gray central field is itself a drum; the concentric rings around
it are rainbow symbols, and the four sets of slanting lines (yellow,
black and whitish) represent the sunshine. The green color between
these lines denotes clouds; the four following rings the rainbow, and
the external ring has no ascertainable meaning. On the other side there
is a star in the center; the black circle stands for night, the blue
color at the circumference for twilight, and the oblique red, yellow
and white lines for the sunshine.”
[Illustration: Fig. 87. Drum of the Assiniboine.]
Some Arapaho designs are interpreted as representing geographical
features or a village in its geographical environment. In the specimen
shown in (fig. 88) “the two large triangles at the end represent tents;
the center diamond two tents; between them a white stripe with black
dots in it represents a buffalo path with buffalo tracks in it. The
four red obtuse triangles along the sides are mountains; small yellow
triangles enclosed by them are tents; the double blue lines surrounding
the entire pattern represent mountain ranges. Small rectangles in this
border, colored red and yellow, represent lakes.”
Geographical interpretations are quite common among most of the Indian
tribes of the Great Plains. Mountains, caves, trees, streams, lakes,
trails, and tents are commonly symbolized in the angular forms of
their paintings and embroideries. As compared to these the association
between abstract ideas and geometric form is rather rare.
A few examples may also illustrate the explanations given by Shoshone
Indians.[50] The interpretations are largely geographic. In fig. 89
the red central rectangle represents the ground, the green background
trees. On this green ground is a lake, indicated by the blue area in
the center, the yellow line dividing the central field, is an inlet
of the lake. The obtuse blue triangle on the sides of the central
rectangle represents mountains with timber. The triangles on the short
sides are also mountains. The yellow apex is the sun shining on the
mountains, the red middle part of the triangle the ground, the green
area at the base, grass at the foot of the mountains. In the corners
we find small triangles representing sand and over them the yellow sun
light.
[50] These are taken from observations by H. H. St. Clair at Wind River
Reservation. Lowie did not succeed in obtaining any explanations at the
Lemhi Agency, Idaho.
[Illustration: Fig. 88. Rawhide bag, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 89. Design from parfleche, Shoshone.]
On a second Shoshone parfleche obtuse triangles in the central
rectangle and smaller triangles in the longitudinal borderstrips
represent mountains, a red line in the center stands for a river, and
right angle triangles are tipis.
Another Shoshone parfleche of similar pattern, was explained as
follows: a blue line enclosing an inner rectangle is a fort or
enclosure surrounded by the enemy, represented by red and green squares
of the border. A yellow and red line passing through the center is the
pass by which the people escape.
[Illustration: Fig. 90. Bamboo case, Melanesia.]
[Illustration: Fig. 91. Zuni bowl, broken and edges ground down.]
A consistent geographically explained ornament has also been described
by Stephan (fig. 90). The upper zig-zag line (_a_) represents a snake;
the rectangular fields under it (_b_), the sea moved by the wind. The
dark corners of the rectangle (_c_) indicate calm on deep water. The
central field with cross hachure (_d_), rain on the sea or ripples
on the water. The lowest bands (_e_, _f_) and the top band (_a_) do
not belong to the sea picture. (_e_) is explained as the veins of the
coconut leaf, (_f_) as a kind of grass.
In the opposite end (_a_) is not explained, (_b_) is a snake. The rest
of the design fits in with the geographical pattern, (_c_) being rocks
beaten by breakers.
I am indebted to Miss Ruth L. Bunzel for the following consistent
interpretation of a Zuni bowl,—part of a deep bowl the upper part of
which has been broken off. Her informant explained it as follows (fig.
91): “We call the whole design ‘cloud all alone’. When a person does
not go to the dances when they dance for rain, after her death she
goes to the Sacred Lake and when all the spirits of the other dead
people come back to Zuni to make rain, she cannot go, but must wait
there all alone, like a single little cloud left in the sky after the
storm clouds have blown over. She just sits and waits all alone, always
looking and looking in all directions, waiting for somebody to come.
That is why we put eyes looking out in all directions.”
Consistent symbolic interpretations have also been given for ceremonial
objects of the Huichol Indians.[51]
[51] Carl Lumholtz, Symbolism of the Huichol Indians, Memoirs American
Museum of Natural History, Vol. III, page 125, fig. 133.
[Illustration: Fig. 92. Ceremonial object, Huichol Indians, Mexico.]
On a “front shield”, a sacred object (fig. 92) fertility symbols are
represented by geometrical figures: “The cross in the center represents
four clouds on the horizon, the colored segments completing the inner
circle represent red and blue birds (swifts) soaring above the clouds.
In the second circle are shown crosses representing red, yellow
and blue corn. In the outer zone is a zig-zag line in red and blue
representing Mother East-water, a Deity. Nine triangles between head
and tail of the serpent, crowded together, represent mescal (a narcotic
cactus) which is considered related to corn and is held as a prayer for
rain and for health.”
Another example is a sacrificial back shield (fig. 93),[52] in which
the symbol (_a_) represents a serpent, (_b_) white clouds, (_c_) black
clouds, (_d_) rain, (yellow and white stripes); (_e_) three flowers,
(_f_) a squash vine, these two representing vegetation, springing up
after rain; and (_g_) the earth with its hills.
[52] Page 146, fig. 173.
Similar representations are found in embroideries in woven garments,
thus a zig-zag line on a pouch[53] (fig. 94) represents lightning, the
crosses the Pleiades.
[53] Carl Lumholtz, Decorative Art of the Huichol Indians, Memoirs
American Museum of Natural History, Vol. III, p. 325, fig. 257.
Turning to Polynesia, von den Steinen[54] has given us a full
description of tattooing of the Marquesans, from which it appears that
in the minds of the natives the designs have definite significance.
I mention a series of black triangles on rectangular bases, called
the Fanaua, women who died in child birth (fig. 95 _a_); the cumulus
clouds of the northwind (fig. 95 _b_). In fig. 95 _c_ the upper row was
called by one informant, “the fellow with the step of the rooster”,
the lower one “the hero Pohu and his house”. Another informant
from another village, designated the figures with raised arms as
legendary miscarriages consisting of a chest, the low semicircular
and rectangular figures as others consisting of ribs only. Of the two
analogous figures, 95 _d_ and _e_, the former is called a crab, the
latter a turtle, while 95 _f_ is called the bath of the hero Kena.
[54] Karl von den Steinen, Die Marquesaner und ihre Kunst, Berlin 1925;
also W. C. Handy, Tattooing in the Marquesas, Bernice P. Bishop Museum,
Bulletin 7, Honolulu 1922.
[Illustration: Fig. 93. Woven ceremonial object, Huichol Indians,
Mexico.]
[Illustration: Fig. 94. Design from a pouch, Huichol Indians.]
[Illustration: Fig. 95. Tattooing designs, Marquesans.]
We find in our civilization cases in which form or color composition
possess symbolic significance entirely apart of their form values. The
most obvious case is that of the national flags. They are not only
ornamental, but possess a strong emotional appeal. They call forth the
feeling of national allegiance and their values cannot be understood
on a purely formal basis, but are founded upon the association of the
form with definite fields of our emotional life. The same is true of
certain symbols. In Germany, at the present time, the swastika as the
symbol of antisemitism, and the David’s star as the Jewish symbol have
very definite political significance and are apt to excite the most
violent passions when used for decorative purposes,—not on account of
their form, but because of the emotional reaction to the ideas they
represent. Military insignia, emblems of secret societies, students’
emblems and other regalia exert the same influence through their
associations. Owing to the strong emotional value of these patterns and
the specific character of the associations, the use of the ornament
may be restricted to special classes of objects, or reserved for
privileged classes or individuals. Thus, among ourselves, the cross,
or the flag, cannot appropriately be used at all places and at all
times, and insignia of rank are confined to those who have the right to
wear them. Just so, totemic devices may be used only by the privileged,
not by those who belong to another totem. Strong emotional values are
commonly associated with all forms that are used in important rituals.
The simple ornaments of cedarbark dyed red which are used by the
Indians of British Columbia have such an appeal, because the ornamental
attachments symbolize the gifts that the wearer has received from his
supernatural protector.
It is readily recognized that these conditions can prevail only
when the interpretation of the ornament, and with it its emotional
significance are firmly established in the minds of the people; if all
react without fail, without hesitation to the same pattern. This is not
by any means the case everywhere. On the contrary, many cases are known
in which there is considerable wavering in regard to the meaning of the
symbol. One person may interpret it one way, another, another way. For
instance, in the designs of the Californian Indians, the same form will
be called by different people, or even by the same person at different
times, now a lizard’s foot, then a mountain covered with trees, then
again an owl’s claw. It is conceivable that an individual may feel
a strong emotional value of a design, but in a case of variable
associations the symbol has no binding emotional value for the whole
tribe. It will be the less relevant the more variable the individual
and tribal associations. I believe this is also the reason why among
ourselves an expressionistic art is impossible, or why at least it
cannot appeal to the people as a whole. It is possible for an artist
to train a group of followers and admirers in the symbolism that he
cultivates, but it is exceedingly unlikely that such symbolism should
develop in such a way that it would be felt automatically by all of us.
In music a few associations of this type exist. We feel, for instance,
the difference of mood in the major and minor keys; the former mood
joyful and energetic; the latter gentle, moody or even sad. It is well
to remember that these emotional tones are not by any means everywhere
connected with these two forms, but that in the music of other people
that have something comparable to our major or minor, the relations
may be quite different. We also feel a certain energy connected with
the major key of E flat, but undoubtedly this is due to very specific
associations that are not valid in other cultural areas.
Expressionistic art requires a very firm and uniform cultural
background, such as is possessed by many peoples of simple social
structure, but that cannot exist in our complex society with its
manifold, intercrossing interests and its great variety of situations
that create different emotional centers for each of its numerous strata.
It is, therefore, important to know whether there exist firm
associations between form and significance, and whether these
associations are accompanied by strong emotional reactions.
[Illustration: Fig. 96. Patterns representing the star, Arapaho.]
The former question may be investigated in two ways: By studying the
variety of forms which are used to represent the same objects, and
conversely by illustrating the variety of explanations given to the
same form. Arapaho designs collected by Kroeber offer a favourable
field for this study. The range of forms interpreted as the star
(fig. 96) is based on the tendency in the art of the Plains Indians
to use triangular and quadrangular figures and narrow lines, and on
the scarcity of polygons. We find, therefore, as representations of
stars, crosses, groups of squares, diamonds and a cross with triangular
wings. In the last quite exceptional figure of this series the star is
represented by a hexagon. In some cases the association between the
form and its meaning becomes more intelligible through the general
setting in which the design element is found, as for instance, through
the color contrast between design and background.[55]
[55] See A. L. Kroeber “The Arapaho”, Bulletin of the American Museum
of Natural History, Vol. 17.
The variety of forms which are used to represent a person may serve as
another example (fig. 97). Some of these are similar to the forms used
to represent the star.
Still another example is the representation of the butterfly (fig. 98).
In this series one of the designs representing the star will be found.
[Illustration: Fig. 97. Patterns representing persons, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 98. Patterns representing butterfly, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 99. Examples of chevrons from Neu-Mecklenburg; _a_,
Carved bamboo; _b_, Embroidered mat. The chevron to the left on the
bamboo represents a palm leaf, an armring or a worm; the same design on
the mat, tracks of a crustacean.]
Conversely a diamond is explained as a person, a turtle, the navel, a
mountain, a lake, a star, an eye. The setting of the design does not by
any means explain sufficiently why these varying interpretations should
be used.
A rectangle represents a camp circle, brush hut, a mountain, the
earth, a buffalo or life; a triangle with an enclosed rectangular or
pentagonal figure (see fig. 117, p. 120) is explained as a mountain
with trees, a cave in the mountain, a brush hut or a tent.
The second form in fig. 98 is explained as a butterfly or the
morning-star.
In bead embroidery we find frequently a central design in the form of
a diamond, from the acute angles of which, extend straight lines. To
the ends of these triangular designs or other small forms are attached.
In fig. 152 (p. 178) some of these designs are shown. The first one
is taken from a pouch (_j_); the central diamond represents a person,
the triangular designs at the ends of the lines, buffalo hoofs. A
similar design (_k_) from a moccasin represents the navel and arrows;
the background is snow. In a third example (_q_) the central diamond
represents a turtle, the lines its claws and the small patterns at the
ends of these lines, eggs.
Another example of the variation of explanation of the same design is
found in designs from New Ireland[56] (fig. 99). The chevron represents
the leaf of a palm, an armring, a worm, the foot of a bird, tracks of a
crustacean, or fish bones.
[56] Stephan, Neu-Mecklenburg, p. 114, fig. 120. The same figure is
found in the same author’s “Südseekunst”, p. 15, fig. 19, with somewhat
different explanations, presumably due to an oversight.
The great variety of these interpretations of the same figure and of
the many forms by means of which the same ideas find expression, show
clearly that the terms by which designs are described must not be
conceived simply as names, but that rather a certain association exists
between the general artistic pattern and a number of ideas which are
selected according to tribal usage, and also in accordance with the
momentary interest of the person who gives the explanation.
Often the range of ideas associated with forms follows a fairly
definite pattern in each tribe. We may compare this condition with
attitudes which we assume in regard to forms that may have varying
types of symbolic connotation. To a Canadian, a British flag surmounted
by maple leaves would be closely associated with patriotic feeling, and
in this connection the maple leaf has a definite significance; in other
combinations it may appear with quite a different meaning. A red maple
leaf may be symbolic of the fall of the year.
During the World War the bloody hand was used on posters to excite the
populace to hatred, because it was symbolic of the imaginary cruelty of
the German soldier and this association was assiduously cultivated by
word and letter. In another setting a bloody hand may be a symbol of
suffering or of sacrifice, as the red hand impressed on church walls or
sanctuaries.
A white rose may be a symbol of death or innocence. A crescent may
bring up a thought of Turkey, a beautiful summer night, or it may be
conceived purely as form.
Not only is the significance of designs variable, the explanations of
forms found on the same object seem often quite incoherent. The cases
are not very numerous in which we find a clearly defined, consistent
symbolism extending over the whole pattern.
Judging from information given by Stephan in regard to paintings and
carvings from Melanesia,[57] the explanations, varied and incoherent as
they may be, are given without hesitation and although the same pattern
elements are not given every time the same interpretation, the whole
grouping, expressed at any given time, seems to be clear in the mind of
the person who gives the explanation.
[57] Emil Stephan, Südseekunst, p. 86.
In by far the majority of cases the interpretation appears to us as
entirely incoherent. The terms by which the same forms are designated
by different individuals and at different times are so varied that it
is difficult to assume that we are merely dealing with names of design
elements.
As a typical example of lack of relation between the symbols composing
the ornament may be mentioned an Arapaho knife scabbard[58] (fig. 100).
“The green lines forming a square at the top represent rivers. The
figure within is an eagle. The two larger dark portions of this figure
are also cattle-tracks. The two rows of triangles on the body of the
scabbard represent arrow-points. The squares in the middle are boxes,
and the lines between them are the conventional morning-star cross. The
small squares on the pendant attached to the point of the scabbard are
cattle-tracks.”
[58] Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., Vol. 18, p. 87.
[Illustration: Fig. 100. Embroidered knife sheath, Arapaho.]
[Illustration: Fig. 101. Painted board, Neu-Mecklenburg.]
[Illustration: Fig. 102. Decorated paddle, Neu-Mecklenburg.]
As another example I select a decorated object from New Ireland
described by Stephan. In fig. 101 (_a_) represents a frigate bird,
(_b_) fish bones, (_c_) buttons for strings of shell money, (_d_)
men’s arms, and (_e_) a fish head. On a paddle (fig. 102) the spirals
represent the opercula of a snail; the connected triangles, the wings
of the frigate bird. On other specimens the spirals represent young
fern fronds.
[Illustration: Fig. 103. Blanket of mountain-goat wool, Tlingit.
Alaska.]
In the art of the North Pacific coast a definite totemic meaning is
given to conventional figures. There is no general agreement as to
their significance, but to many forms is assigned a meaning according
to the totemic affiliation of the owner for whom it thus attains a
value based on its meaning. Explanations of a blanket design (fig.
103) obtained by G. T. Emmons and John R. Swanton, may serve as an
example. According to Emmons the design represents a whale diving, in
the lateral fields are ravens sitting. The head with nostrils and mouth
is shown below. The central face represents the body, the inverted
eyes along the upper border, the tail. According to Swanton the design
represents a wolf with young. The head is shown below. The hind legs
and hip joints are represented by the two large inverted eyes and the
adjoining ornament along the upper border. The two dark segments just
above the eyes are explained as the feet. The face in the middle of
the design represents, as usual, the body of the animal. The small eye
designs, with adjoining ear and wing feathers, in the middle on each
side of the body, are interpreted as forelegs and feet. The designs in
the lateral panels are explained as young wolves sitting.
It seems likely that wherever varied interpretations of the same
form, or of closely allied forms occur within the same social unit,
conditions of this kind prevail.
We have no information whatever that would enable us to decide whether
the ideas expressed are entirely incoherent. It is conceivable that
there may be associations that are unknown to us and that create a
greater unity than appears on the surface. I am under the impression
that connected with the interpretation there exists a certain emotional
tone that may be weak, but that is, nevertheless, not negligible in the
esthetic effect of the whole object.
[Illustration: Fig. 104. Basketry patterns of the Pomo Indians,
California.]
It would seem that in a considerable number of cases ornamental
patterns have definite names that are always applied, no matter in what
combination the design may occur. Many Californian basketry patterns
are of this kind. Barrett[59] gives the names of decorative patterns
used by the Pomo Indians, from which I select a few as an illustration
(fig. 104). The northern and eastern Pomo call fig. 104 _a_, _b_
butterflies; the central Pomo call them arrow-heads; the designation
for _c_ is sharp arrow-heads. The northern Pomo call _d_, pointed broad
band, deer back, or darts for a game; the central Pomo call them
crow-foot or crow-track; the eastern Pomo, zig-zag or marks of the east.
The design _e_ is called quail plumes; _f_ and _h_, by the northern
Pomo, “sharp points and in the middle striped water snake”; the central
Pomo call them “similar to slender arrow-heads”, and the single
triangles, turtle-neck. The eastern Pomo call the designs butterfly and
“in the middle (gaya) striped water snake”. The design _g_ is called by
the northern Pomo, empty spaces and quail tip patterns; by the eastern
Pomo, butterfly and quail plumes; _i_ by the central Pomo quail plumes
arrowhead.
[59] S. A. Barrett, Pomo Indian Basketry, Univ. of California
Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Vol. VII, No. 3.
[Illustration: Fig. 105. Drawn work, Mexico.]
This usage corresponds to our terms when we speak, for instance, of
the “egg and dart” design. Among the Shetland Islanders patterns on
knit stockings are called “flowers”, flowers serving as a synonym for
pattern. The drawn work of Mexico bears also names.[60] Here we find
names as for instance, “Little Jesus”, “Beehive” (_a_) (fig. 105),
“Partridge’s Eye” (_b_), “Tomato Seed and Peel” (_c_), liana (_d_),
“Spider Net” (_e_). The same is true of the embroidery of Paraguay.[61]
[60] Journal American Folk-Lore Vol. 33, 1920, pp. 73 et seq.
[61] E. Roquette-Pinto, On the Ñanduti of Paraguay. Proceedings of the
Congress of Americanists, Gotenburg, 1925, pp. 103 et seq.
Named designs among more primitive people are particularly common in
Africa, where, according to all investigators, the complex designs are
conceived as compounds of single elements which bear names.
[Illustration: Fig. 106. Designs of the Ruanda.]
Czekanowski[62] says in discussing the ornaments found in Ruanda
(fig. 106): “On account of the simplicity of the Ruanda ornament its
elements are easily determined. We shall enumerate them here according
to their names: quiver (_a_); shield (_b_); millet (_c_); knife (_d_);
arrowhead (_e_); kindly person (_f_); ferrule of a spear (_g_); wings
of a swallow (_h_); large tail (_i_, _j_); arrows (_k_). The three last
patterns may be considered as compound forms. The pentagon occupies an
exceptional position. All these elements consist of straight lines.
Curves occur as segments, crescents, spirals and circles. Wide-lined
circles are called arm rings (_m_); narrow ones, bracelets (_n_).” The
general ornamentation consists of horizontal rows of black triangles
or diamonds on a plain background or a white triangle on a black
background. The arrowhead design (_e_) appears in long rows, the
point of one head touching the notch of the other. Zig-zag bands in
diagonal or vertical rows of the pattern _i_ and _j_ occur also. The
characteristic point seems to be that only the elements of the whole
pattern bear names.
[62] Jan Czekanowski, Wissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der Deutschen
Zentral-Afrika Expedition, 1907-1908, Vol. VI, Part 1. pp. 329 et seq.
I infer from Tessmann’s[63] description that among the Pangwe of
West Africa also the single pattern elements bear names while the
multifarious combinations lack explanations such as we find in America
or in Melanesia. In fig. 107 patterns in woodcarving are represented
which are named as follows: (_a_) file; (_b_) string of cowrie shells;
(_c_, _d_) triangular leaf used for feathering arrows for the cross bow
(triangle with wide base); point of iron money, spear point (triangle
with narrow base); (_e_) tail of armadillo; (_f_) kerf; (_g_) rainbow;
(_h_) fish bone; (_i_) triangular spear; (_k_) spider net.
[63] Günter Tessmann, Die Pangwe, Berlin 1913, Vol. 1, p. 243 et seq.
[Illustration: Fig. 107. Designs of the Pangwe.]
Of the Bushongo Torday[64] says that the nomenclature is not certain
(p. 216). “The Bushongo do not consider the design as a whole, but
they divide it into various elementary patterns. They take one of
these elements as characteristic of the whole figure and call the
whole design by this term. The motives obtained by interrupting woven
patterns[65] at regular intervals are built up of small details which
are found variously combined in other motives. Therefore, owing to the
analytical mind of the natives, the curious phenomenon results that the
same name may be given to two designs, apparently quite dissimilar,
at least so far as the general impression is concerned, and that the
natives of opposite sex will give to the same design different names
because either considers a particular element as the principal part.”
The closely related patterns fig. 108 _b_ and _d_ are derived from
interwoven strands (fig. 108 _a_). The form _b_ is called imbolo
(interwoven?); _c_ is called the xylophone and _d_ the foot of Matarma.
The Bangayo call the same pattern in carving (_e_, _f_) back and head
of the python. The patterns 108 _g_, _h_ are called the knee and _i_
the knot.
[64] E. Torday and T. A. Joyce, Notes ethnographiques sur les
peuples communément appelés Bakuba, etc. Les Bushongo, Documents
ethnographiques concernant les populations du Congo Belge, Vol. II,
number 1, Brussels, 1910, pp. 217, 219.
[65] i. e. the element consisting of a single warp strand showing
between two woof strands and the adjoining similar elements, formed in
simple up and down weaving.
[Illustration: Fig. 108. Designs of the Bushongo.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: Fig. 109. Feet of pottery dishes, Chiriqui, Costa Rica.]
[Illustration: Fig. 110. Polynesian ornaments.]
[Illustration: Fig. 111. Crocodile arrows, New Guinea.]
The significance of primitive ornament has also been studied in another
way. In a number of cases it has been shown that series can be arranged
in which we may place at one end a realistic representation of an
object. By degrees we may pass to more and more conventional forms
that show each a distinct similarity to the preceding one, but end in
a purely conventional, geometric design in which the initial stage can
hardly, if at all, be recognized. I believe the first to discover this
phenomenon was Frederic Ward Putnam, who described the development,
as he called it, of the hollow, slit feet of Chiriquian (Costa Rican)
pottery from a fish form to a purely conventional design (fig. 109).
He was followed by others who made studies of similar transitions in
other parts of the world. William H. Holmes described the so-called
alligator vases of Chiriqui, showing the relations between the
alligator design and curious irregular painted forms (see fig. 129, p.
137). Hjalmar Stolpe, and about the same time, Charles H. Read (fig.
110) discussed the relations of human figures and geometrical designs
in Polynesian ornaments; Haddon studied the so-called crocodile arrows
(fig. 111) and the frigate bird (fig. 112) designs of New Guinea in
their gradual transition from fairly realistic forms in which the
crocodile and the bird are easily recognized, to geometrical types in
which the prototype is entirely obscured. Similar relations are found
in the facial urns of prehistoric times, (fig. 113) in some of which
we find a perfectly plain and distinct face, while in others there are
only a few knobs that, on account of their position, recall the face.
George Grant MacCurdy takes us back to Chiriqui where he collected
from museum collections series of types beginning with the form of the
armadillo and ending with small decorative points (fig. 114). Von den
Steinen forms out similar phenomena in the tattooings of the Marquesans.
[Illustration: Fig. 112. Designs representing frigate bird and
crocodile.]
In a few cases the striking similarity of the patterns which
contradicts the diversity of names suggests an historical relation
between the forms. This is the case, for instance, with the Bushongo
antelope and beetle patterns (fig. 115). The resemblance between the
realistic antelope head (_a_) and beetle design (_d_) is evident. It
is, however, not necessary to assume a transition from the antelope to
the beetle design, but the question has to be answered in how far the
stylistic form may have moulded the two representations in the same
form or, on the other hand, why an ornamental form may have outlines
that, on the one hand, express an antelope’s head and, on the other
hand, the body of a beetle.[66]
[66] E. Torday and T. A. Joyce, Notes ethnographiques sur les
peuples communément appelés Bakuba, etc. Les Bushongo, Documents
ethnographiques concernant les populations du Congo Belge, Vol. II,
number 1, Brussels, 1910, p. 212.
[Illustration: Fig. 113. Facial urns.]
[Illustration: Fig. 114. Armadillo designs, Chiriqui.]
[Illustration: Fig. 115. Designs of the Bushongo representing the head
of the antelope and the beetle.]
Here arises the important problem whether we are to assume that all
these forms are developments from realism to conventionalism, as has
often been assumed, or whether the converse process may not also have
occurred, namely that a geometrical design existed and that a gradual
development towards a realistic form took place, that a meaning was
read into the geometric pattern and that in this way the significant
forms originated. Unfortunately historical evidence is hardly ever
available and we are compelled to rely upon indirect evidence. We
cannot follow the excellent example set by Riegl in his detailed study
of the history of the introduction of curved lines in Mediterranean art.
However, we can apply the geographical method, the only one that
has made it possible to unravel part of the historical development
of people that do not possess written records, and for cultures the
development of which cannot be traced by archaeological evidence.
It is possible to establish with a high degree of probability the
relationship of cultural forms and their gradual spread by means of
a study of the distribution of ethnic phenomena and their variations
in the sections of the area in which they are found. This method is
strictly analogous to the one applied by biologists in their studies of
the gradual distribution of plants and animals.
In our case we must try to trace the distribution of designs together
with the interpretations given to them by different tribes. If we
should find consistent interpretations of the same form over large
areas, perhaps even more realistic forms in a central district, more
conventional ones in outlying parts of the country, but in all of them
the same interpretation, we should have to consider this as plausible
evidence of an origin of the conventional types from a realistic
representation. If, on the other hand, it should be found that in the
whole area realistic forms and conventional forms were irregularly
distributed and that furthermore the meanings of identical or similar
forms did not agree, then the origin of conventional forms from
realistic ones would seem to be quite unlikely. Then we should have
to assume one of two possibilities; either the form must have spread
gradually over the whole area and must have been given a meaning
independently by each people,—in other words the meaning must have been
read into the pattern,—or it may have been that a dominating style has
forced a diversity of realistic representations into the same geometric
patterns.
In the latter case we should have to consider the processes by
which realistic forms should gradually change into unrecognizable
conventional ones; in the former the processes by which from a
conventional form a representative one develops.
[Illustration: Fig. 116. Design representing the buffalo, Arapaho.]
That both ways are possible is easily shown. When the Plains Indians
represent a buffalo in a stiff angular form, like a hide spread out
provided with legs, head and tail (fig. 116); and if also a rectangle
without these attachments is called a buffalo, it may be as well the
buffalo hide that has been abbreviated, so to speak, as that the
hide has been read into the rectangle. The process of reading in is
not at all unfamiliar to us. We see realistic forms in the shapes
of mountains and clouds and in marks on rocks, and we enjoy the
play of fancy that endows natural forms with new meanings. There is
no reason to doubt that the same tendency prevails among primitive
peoples. Koch-Grünberg’s[67] observations among the natives of South
America prove this point. He tells us that the Indians, when camping
at a portage and waiting for the rivers to become navigable, take up
accidental marks on the rocks and by pecking develop them into forms
suggested by the natural outlines, or that they take up the lines left
by a preceding party who amused themselves in the same way and whose
play was interrupted when they were able to resume their journey.
We have also ample evidence to show that curiously formed rocks are
not only compared with animate beings, but that they are actually
considered as men or beasts transformed into stone. Thus the Pueblo
Indians tell in their migration legend that a person or an animal
became tired on account of the fatigue of the long travel, sat down and
was transformed into stone. The forms of a hawk, man, bear, and of a
woman carrying a basket are still pointed out. On Vancouver Island are
shown the tracks of the culture hero, where he stepped on a rock. In
the interior of British Columbia a large boulder is said to be Coyote’s
basket.[68]
[67] Th. Koch-Grünberg, Südamerikanische Felszeichnungen. Berlin, 1907.
[68] James A. Teit, The Thompson Indians of British Columbia,
Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. I, Pl. 19.
[Illustration: Fig. 117. Designs of North American Indians; the first
nine Arapaho, the next six Eastern Algonquin; the last line; first
Hopi; then archaeological specimens, Pueblo region.]
I shall illustrate this point by the discussion of a design found
widely spread among the Indians of North America. Their decorative art
is characterized by the use of straight lines, triangles and rectangles
that appear in manifold combinations. One of the most typical forms
is that of an isosceles triangle with enclosed rectangle, sometimes
provided with spurs at the base (fig. 117). This design is found in
an extended area. It occurs most frequently on the great plains but
also on part of the western plateaus and among the Pueblo Indians
(fig. 118). To the west it is found among the tribes of the woodlands
and certain peculiar patterns of New England and the interior of
Labrador are strongly reminiscent of it. The stylistic similarity,
or better, identity of the pattern on the plains is so great that
it cannot possibly have developed from several independent sources.
It is part and parcel of the general art style of the area that has
developed either in one spot, or what seems more probable, by the
conflux of artistic activities of a number of tribes. Thirty or forty
years ago, under the strong influence of the evolutionary theory, the
psychologising ethnologist might have interpreted this similarity as
due to the sameness of the reaction of the human mind to the same
or similar environmental causes,—as Daniel G. Brinton explained
the similarity of Algonquin and Iroquois mythologies. However, the
development of our science since that time has so firmly established
the fact that even the most primitive cultures must be considered
as having had a historical development no less complex than that of
civilization, that the theory of independent origin of almost identical
phenomena in contiguous areas can no longer be maintained and has been
given up by all serious students.
[Illustration: Fig. 118. Triangular design, prehistoric Pueblo.]
When we study the significance of the pattern we find the greatest
possible divergence of meaning. As pointed out before, different
individuals in one tribe, do not all assign to it the same meaning, but
more or less decided tendencies to certain interpretations are found
in each tribe. The design is sometimes drawn steeply and the sides of
the triangle extend slightly beyond the apex. Thus the form of a tent
with tent poles, doorway and pegs for pinning down the tent cover is
expressed. At other times the triangle is more obtuse and represents a
hill. It may be placed on a white background which signifies snow or
sand; blue lines extending downward from the base indicate springs of
water and small triangles may be placed in the inner triangle. Thus
it becomes the mythical mountain in which, at the beginning of time,
the buffaloes were kept and which is located on a snowcovered plain. On
the slopes of the mountain grow trees. Again, quite different, is the
interpretation given by the Pueblo Indians. In their arid country the
greatest need is rain without which their crops wither and starvation
stares at the people. The communal life centers around the idea of
fertility to be attained by an abundance of rain. Accordingly they
interpret the symbol as a cloud from which the rain falls. Since their
art is far less angular in style than that of the Plains Indians, they
often substitute a semicircle for the triangle and attain a greater
realistic resemblance to clouds by superimposing three of these
semicircles, from which flow down the rain lines. When we turn to the
western plateaus, we find among the Shoshone the regular design of the
obtuse triangle applied and explained on the basis of geographical
features; it suggests to them mountain-passes and a fort protected by
palisades. Further to the north we do not find the enclosed rectangle,
but the triangle and the spurs at the base persist. These are explained
as paws of a bear, the triangle being the sole of the foot, the spurs
the claws. In the eastern woodlands new developments occur. The
triangle now is exceedingly narrow, so that there is no room for the
enclosed rectangle which is reduced to a triangle. The sides of the
triangle are produced beyond the apex, even more so than among the
Sioux Indians, and a considerable number of almost straight vertical
lines are added to the sides. The form bears now a certain resemblance
to a fish tail and is so interpreted. Still more curious are the
developments in New England. The triangle and the enclosed rectangle
are still unmistakably present, although curved lines, characteristic
of eastern American art, are added on. The interpretation has changed
again. The pattern is a symbol of the town or of the tribe and its
chief.
Among none of these tribes do we find any indication of the existence
of more realistic forms from which the conventional triangle might
have been derived. The realistic forms of the western tribes are almost
exclusively crudely pictographic and no transition from the pictograph
to ornamental, geometric patterns can be traced. The realistic forms
of the eastern tribes are found particularly in mattings and weaving.
These also show no relation to the triangular forms that we are
discussing. The theory that the pattern has developed under the stress
of a compelling style that cast a variety of realistic forms into the
same mould does not find support in the facts, because transitional
forms are lacking. We conclude, therefore, that the sameness of
form and the difference of meaning are not due to a geometrisation
of realistic forms but to a reading in of significance into old
conventional patterns. This view is corroborated by the prevailing
uncertainty in regard to many of the meanings. The Blackfeet, according
to Clark Wissler,[69] have practically no feeling whatever for the
significance of these designs. The Arapaho behave somewhat differently
on different occasions. Ceremonial paraphernalia may have fairly
definite meaning, while clothing, bags and other objects are given
interpretations that are quite subjective and which show therefore
great individual differences.
[69] Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. 18, p.
276.
The importance of the social position, or perhaps better, of the social
interests of the owner of an object, in determining the meaning of
ornaments has been demonstrated most clearly among the Sioux Indians.
In former times their ornamentation was made in porcupine quill
embroidery, but at present beads have taken place of the quills. Men
and women use to a considerable extent the same ornamental designs, but
with distinctive meaning. A diamond-shaped pattern with attached double
triangular appendages, when found on a cradle, or a woman’s legging, is
interpreted as a turtle, the turtle being a symbol closely associated
with birth and maturity of the woman. When found on a man’s legging it
represents a slain enemy.[70]
[70] Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians, Bull. Am. Mus.
Nat. Hist., Vol. 18, pp. 253, 273.
I will mention one more case in which the actual process of reading
in has been observed. At one time, when I visited British Columbia,
I purchased a woven bag from an elderly woman. It was decorated with
a series of diamonds and small embroidered cross-like figures. Upon
inquiry I learned that the bag had been purchased from a neighboring
tribe and that the new owner did not know anything about the
original significance of the pattern,—if such a significance existed
which is doubtful, because the tribe in question is not given to
interpretations. It appeared to the new owner that the diamonds looked
like a series of lakes connected by a river. The different colors of
the diamonds appeared to her to suggest the colors of the lakes;—a
green border, the vegetation of the shore, a yellow area inside the
shallow water, and a blue center the deep water. The interpretation
did not seem to her sufficiently clear, and in order to emphasize it
she added, in embroidery, figures of birds flying towards the lakes.
Thus she gave greater realism to her conception and made it more
intelligible to her friends (Plate VII).
[Illustration: PLATE VII.
Woven Pouch, British Columbia.]
The needle cases of the Alaskan Eskimo offer an excellent example of an
elaboration of geometrical into realistic forms. It must be remembered
that all the Eskimo tribes, east and west, are very fond of carving and
that they produce many small animal figures that serve no practical
purpose but which are made for the pleasure of artistic creation, and
that many of their small implements are given animal forms. The mind of
the worker in ivory is imbued with the idea of animal representation.
The Alaskan needle cases have a stereotyped form to which the bulk of
the specimens conform (fig. 119). The type consists of a tube slightly
bulging in the middle, with flanges at the upper end, with lateral
knobs under the flanges on opposite sides. On the body of the tubing,
between the flanges, is a long narrow concave face, set off from the
flanges and the body of the tube by parallel lines with small forks at
the lower ends. Lines border the sides and ends of the flanges and the
upper end of the concave face, and an alternate-spur band is found at
the lower end of the tube. This type is presumably related to the
ancient type of needle case from Hudson Bay, which is characterized by
a tubular form, flanges at the upper end and a pair of large wings in
the middle part of the tube. These, I believe are the prototypes of the
small knobs at the sides of the Alaskan type. These are sometimes so
small that they can hardly be seen, although they may be felt when the
fingers glide lightly over the surface of the tube. However this may
be, the majority of Alaskan specimens are of the type here described.
The variations in geometrical form are very slight.[71]
[71] See Franz Boas, Decorative Designs on Alaskan Needlecases,
Proceedings of the United States National Museum, Volume XXXIV, (1908),
pages 321-344, Washington, D. C.
[Illustration: Fig. 119. Alaskan needle cases.]
In a number of cases part of the needle case or the whole object is
elaborated in representative forms. In a few specimens the knobs
have been given the form of seal heads. A slight enlargement and the
addition of eyes and mouth are sufficient to bring about this effect
(fig. 119 _c_). In other cases the flanges have been developed into
walrus heads (fig. 119 _d_) or into other animal forms that fit the
form of the flange (fig. 119 _e_). By adding a point for the eye and by
cutting out the inner part of the flange the outer form is essentially
preserved and the form of the bulky walrus head with its large tusks is
successfully attained; or the walrus motive may be repeated so that the
original form of the needle case is considerably obscured. By adding a
seal’s head at the lower end the lower part of the object receives more
or less the form of a seal.
It is important to note that in all specimens of this type the double
spur ornament persists, although it interferes with the seal’s head
that is often added at the lower end. It seems very unlikely that
the many animal forms attached to the needlecases were the primary
forms from which the geometrical form developed. On the contrary, the
wide distribution and the great frequency of the geometrical forms,
their agreement with Eskimo geometrical style and the occurrence of
this geometric style on specimens that do not imitate animal forms
are entirely in favor of the assumption that the earlier form is
geometrical, whatever the origin of the flanges and knobs may have
been. Presumably the habit of carving animal forms has induced the
artist to produce the variants described here.
[Illustration: Fig. 120. Reels of Alaskan Eskimo.]
Equally interesting are the reels used by the Alaskan Eskimo. Their
prototype is a piece of caribou antler cut as shown in fig. 120.
This, however has been developed into animal forms. One specimen has
a geometrical decoration on the body, while three of the ends are
elaborated as animal heads. In another one the two prongs on one side
are given the form of seal heads which are connected by a long line
with the flippers which are shown on the opposite side. Still another
specimen has been treated like a much distorted form of a wolf. The
head is at the prong of one end, the forelegs at the other prong of
the same end; the two hind legs are carved on the two prongs at the
opposite end.
Similar observations may be made on arrow shaft straighteners and snow
knives of the Alaskan Eskimo.[72]
[72] E. W. Nelson, The Eskimo about Bering Strait, Annual Report Bureau
of American Ethnology, Volume XVIII, pl. 40, 48, 94.
[Illustration: Fig. 121. Eye shades and vessel, Ammassalik.]
The examples which I have given demonstrate beyond cavil that the
process of reading in exists and accounts for the significance of
many geometrical forms; that it is not necessary to assume in each
and every case that geometrical ornament is derived from realistic
representations. Hjalmar Stolpe to whose researches on primitive art we
owe so much had an exaggerated opinion of the importance of realistic
designs, for he believed that every geometric form must have been
derived from a representation. Stephan expresses the same opinion. I
may perhaps illustrate Stolpe’s point of view by one example. Among the
Eskimo of East Greenland is found an eye-shade decoration consisting
of notched pieces of ivory placed side by side. Stolpe explained this
form as a derivation from carvings representing seals, abbreviated due
to the rhythmic repetition of the seal design (fig. 121). However, we
know that the Eskimo when making small blocks of ivory, such as are
used for the manufacture of toggles or other similar objects, cut the
walrus tusk just in this manner, so that through a technical process
they have become familiar with the ornamental form. Therefore it is not
indispensable to assume a realistic origin for the design.
It is interesting to compare the process with which we are dealing with
other ethnic phenomena of similar import. The essential conclusion
drawn from our observations is that the same form may be given
different meanings, that the form is constant, the interpretation
variable, not only tribally but also individually. It can be shown
that this tendency is not by any means confined to art, but that it is
present also in mythology and in ceremonialism, that in these also the
outer form remains, while the accompanying interpretations are widely
different. In the case of mythology we may observe that in the same way
as patterns have a wide distribution, so also motives of myths, or even
whole plots are found over extended areas. For example, the well known
tale of the magic flight, which is one of the most widely distributed
fairy tales, occurs in a number of North American localities. Among
the Eskimo it is given as accounting for the origin of fog; in British
Columbia it is made to account for the origin of certain cannibalistic
ceremonials. Another example is the so-called star husband story, a
tale of two girls who were taken up to the sky by the stars. The story
is widely spread and is told as the explanation of a great variety of
phenomena. The child of one of the women becomes the culture hero and
destroys the monsters infesting the world. Customs, ceremonials, and
prerogatives of clans are explained by this tale, in accordance with
the chief interests of the tribes concerned. The nature myths collected
from all parts of the world by Dähnhardt[73] are full of examples
of this kind: the most diverse features are explained by the same
tales. This shows that it is quite untenable to assume that the tales
developed through the immediate effect of viewing natural phenomena,
that much rather the tales preexisted and the explanatory part was
tacked on at a later time, precisely as the art forms preexisted
and their meaning was tacked on according to the peculiar mental
disposition of the individual or the tribe.
[73] Oskar Dähnhardt, Natursagen, Vol. 4. Leipzig 1912.
The same observation has been made in regard to ceremonials. The
so-called sun dance is performed by almost all the tribes of the
great plains. The general run of the ceremonial is essentially the
same everywhere, although different tribes have added on special
characteristic details. The meaning, on the other hand, presents far
greater variations. In one case the performance is made in fulfilment
of a vow made when supernatural aid is invoked in time of distress; in
another case it is undertaken to purchase the right of ownership in a
sacred bundle, and then again it is a tribal, seasonal ceremonial.[74]
[74] Leslie Spier, Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of
Natural History, Vol. XVI, (1921), pp. 457 et seq.
These three examples illustrate that the psychological explanation of a
custom and its historical development are not by any means the same; on
the contrary, owing to secondary interpretations that in course of time
set in and the general character of which depends upon the cultural
interest of the people, the psychological explanation is much more
likely to be quite independent of the actual historical happenings. The
mere fact that a tribe explains forms according to a certain pattern
does not prove, that they have developed from actual representations of
the objects they now represent.
It might perhaps be admitted that in the special case of the North
American triangle which we have discussed the argument is convincing
because no transitional forms exist, that, however, when an almost
continuous series of forms is found, beginning with the most realistic
and ending with a purely geometrical one, the conclusion cannot be
avoided that the development has been in the direction from realism
to conventionalism. I have already indicated that as long as there is
no historic proof, the sequence might as well be reversed. In all the
cases that have been described and that are based on direct inquiry
among primitive people regarding the meaning of designs, realistic and
conventional forms have been found to occur at the same time. It would
therefore be necessary to give a reason why some excellent artists
should use the one style, others, equally good ones the other; or why
even the same artist should combine the two styles.
It is generally claimed that slovenly execution brings about
deterioration of pattern and through this, causes misunderstandings.
I do not consider this explanation as tenable under the conditions of
life prevailing among primitive people, because there is no slovenly
execution among natives who make utensils for their own use. The
pottery and paintings of the South American Indians, observed by Von
den Steinen, the crocodile arrows of New Guinea, the frigate bird
carvings, are all carefully made. We find often that people will use
inferior wares for exchange with neighboring tribes, while they keep
the good material for themselves. The natives of Vancouver Island
for instance, adulterate with elderberries berry cakes that are made
for trade, while those made for home consumption are made of the
more valuable berries, such as blueberries or salmonberries without
the addition of other material of inferior value. This tendency,
particularly when combined with the desire to manufacture quickly
large masses of material, leads to poor work. The question then
arises, what happens in cases of this kind. Does slovenly work lead to
misunderstandings and to conventionalism? Balfour has tried to make the
process clear. He let an individual copy a design and used the first
reproduction as original for a second copy. By continuing in this way
he received the most astonishing transformations. Such results may
occur when work executed in a highly developed technique is imitated by
people of lesser accomplishments. The standard example is that of the
degeneration of Greek coins when copied by Keltic imitators[75] which
led to a complete disruption of the original design. However, this
example is not to the point, because we are ordinarily not dealing with
copies of designs borrowed from people of higher technical development,
but with those belonging to a single tribe.
[75] See Max Ebert, Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte, Vol. 6, pp. 301 et
seq.
I have had occasion to observe the effect of factory production and of
slovenly execution in some Mexican material. In western Mexico dishes
are made of tree calabashes which are covered with an orange laquer. By
the lost-color process these are overlaid with designs in green laquer.
The industry is probably of Spanish origin. Old specimens made of wood
are of excellent workmanship. These are decorated mostly with animal
forms, deer, fish, and so on. At present the work is of much poorer
execution and the ware is sold in market places, as in Oaxaca (fig.
122). On some specimens the fish designs of ancient type are still
used, but we find also, even more frequently, leaf patterns and we may
here apparently observe just that kind of misunderstanding described
by Balfour. The gill region becomes the base of the leaf. The head of
the fish corresponds to the base of the leaf; the fins to the marginal
indentations, and the ribs of the fish to the veins of the leaf. Since
both the fish and the leaf occur in modern types it may be doubted
whether we are dealing with an actual transformation, with a real
misunderstanding. It might be as well that the psychological process
involved has been rather the substitution of new subject matter for the
old, in which process the new subject was rigidly controlled by the
old, stereotyped form. We shall see that conditions of this kind are
often very potent.
[Illustration: Fig. 122. Designs from vessels made of tree calabashes,
Oaxaca.]
[Illustration: Fig. 123. Fragments of pottery vessels, Texcoco.]
[Illustration: Fig. 124. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan.]
Another good example is the pottery made for sale by the ancient
inhabitants of the Valley of Mexico. Pottery was made here in great
masses and, as described by Sahagun,[76] sold in the market places.
The vessels show plainly the effect of factory production and of the
resultant slurring. The Aztec pottery is fundamentally of uniform type.
In Culhuacan, a small village at the foot of the Sierra de la Estrella,
a coarse kind of this ware was made. Great masses of potsherds are
found in the swampy soil which was used in early times as garden beds.
The pottery is thick, dark orange, painted black. It is a pronounced
local form, darker than the light ware of Texcoco (fig. 123); the
painted lines are broad and coarse, while those of Texcoco are very
delicate. The patterns are fixed, but the rapidity of manufacture has
developed a definite style, analogous to the styles of handwriting.
Each painter had his own method of handling the brush, with the result
that his individuality may easily be recognized.[77] I select a few
examples here in order to show the effect of slurring upon design. It
is essential to note that on the same specimen the lines are always
drawn in the same way; that is, that the hand of the painter followed
very definite motor habits.
[76] Bernardino de Sahagun, Historia general de las cosas de Nueva
España, ed. C. M. de Bustamente, México, 1830, Vol. 3, p. 56.
[77] See, Franz Boas y Manuel Gamio, Album de colecciones
arqueológicas, México 1912.
One of the simplest designs is instructive in regard to the effect of
slurring and the development of individual style. One of the decorative
elements consists of a series of S shaped, interlocking figures (fig.
124). It will be noticed that, in fig. 124 _b_ the lines which seem to
have developed from the S shaped forms, are degenerating into simple
curves, while in _c_ the lines are drawn more carefully. Fig. 124 _d_
represents the decoration from the outer side of a vessel and here the
S shaped curves have been carefully connected and are developing into a
new pattern.
[Illustration: Fig. 125. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan.]
Another simple pattern which illustrates the effect of rapid production
consists of a regular repetition of a curve and two vertical strokes.
It seems likely that the form is derived from a circle followed by
vertical strokes such as are also found in the finely painted pottery
of Texcoco (Fig. 125 _a_). The corresponding Culhuacan specimens are
shown in fig. 125 _b_, _c_. While in a few cases the curve is a more or
less carefully drawn circle (_b_, _c_), it has generally the shape of
a spiral. One of the most striking characteristics of the development
of this pattern is the tendency to change the direction of the vertical
strokes to an inclined position (fig. 126). According to the tendency
of the painter the strokes incline either strongly from right above to
left below (_a_, _b_ inside, _c_, _d_ outside), while in _e_ and _f_
the strokes run from the left to the right. In the rapid creation of
these forms the vertical lines are transformed into hooks. They are so
characteristic that it seems perfectly feasible to recognize the same
hand in these specimens.
There is still another way the design is treated. In fig. 127 _a_ the
spiral lies in the direction opposite to the one usually given to it
and a single dividing vertical line is placed between the two spirals;
the end of the first spiral taking the place of the second vertical
line. Here again the method of treatment is consistent. In a few cases
the spiral line instead of terminating abruptly is continued under the
vertical strokes (_b_). In still another case, a separate single or
double horizontal line is placed under the spiral (_c_).
[Illustration: Fig. 126.]
[Illustration: Fig. 127.]
[Illustration: Fig. 128. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan.]
A frequent design of which many specimens have been collected consists
of a spiral with attached curves. Presumably it is derived from a
circle and straight lines (fig. 128 _a_). In rapid execution, the
center of the circle is connected with the circumference so that the
whole line is transformed into a spiral. Sometimes the spirals develop
into a simple hook (_b_), and the lowest point of the circumference
of the circle is continued into the adjoining horizontal line. In by
far the majority of specimens the distinction between the circle and
the adjoining line may be recognized by a sudden turn, or at least an
indention in the lowest horizontal line (_c_). The form developing
from the original pattern depends entirely upon the peculiar turn of
the brush used by the artist. In many cases (_b_, _c_) the spiral,
continuing into the lowest horizontal line and turning back into the
central horizontal line, is made in one stroke and the upper horizontal
line is added on by a separate movement, adjoining the middle and
forming a hook. In other cases (_d_, _e_), the spiral and lowest
horizontal are drawn in the same way. The horizontal lines, however,
are made separately by drawing a right angle, probably from the top
downward and adding a central line. In these cases, the horizontal ends
at the far side in a sharp angle. In fig. 128 _f_, the two horizontal
lines are separated from the curve; in _g_, they are made very long
and apparently the middle one is made in one stroke with the spiral.
The method of producing _h_ is the same as that applied in _b_ and _c_
but the upper horizontal line is very much reduced in size. The same
method is applied in _i_ with the difference that the lower horizontal
is turned up and ends rather abruptly, and that the upper and middle
horizontals are made in the form of a single horseshoe curve. In _j_
and _k_ quite a different method is applied, the spiral remains as
before but the horizontal lines are made separately in the form of a
3. In _l_ and _m_ the whole curve is made in one continuous line which
has led to the doubling of the middle horizontal in the form of a
loop. In _n_ the three horizontals are treated quite differently; the
long S shaped figure starting above on the left being substituted for
the lines attached to the lowest horizontal. A similar principle, but
beginning on the opposite side, is applied in _o_, in which specimen
the three horizontals have taken the form of a spiral ending below in
an almost vertical spur. In _p_ we recognize a form in which the S
shaped curve is made separately; in the middle an additional horizontal
line is added and furthermore, the lowest part of the S shaped curve is
connected with the lower horizontal. The form _q_ is reversed and by
attaching the S shaped curve to the center of the spiral, a divergent
form is developed.
[Illustration: Fig. 129. Alligator designs from Chiriqui pottery.]
I believe that many of the highly irregular forms that occur in painted
pottery must be explained in the same way. Another instance of this
kind is represented by the so-called alligator ware of the Chiriqui
(fig. 129) on which W. H. Holmes based his arguments of gradual
degeneration of realistic forms into conventional forms. Although
the pot itself is well made, the painting is almost always slovenly;
evidently the result of mass production. The most characteristic trait
of decoration of this ware is line and dot work. All the designs are
characterized by the use of black and red lines interspersed with
dots. The geometrical designs, as well as the animal forms are crudely
executed. Professor Holmes has called attention to the fact that the
dots are used to indicate the scales of the alligators, but this fact
does not prove that all the dots are derived from alligator scales.
Forms like those shown in fig. 129 to the right above may well be
understood as attempts in general decoration in black and red lines
and dots, badly executed. This seems more probable since the dotted
triangle has a much wider distribution than the alligator motives. A
representation of the alligator might then be explained as executed
in accordance with the technique applied to geometrical motives.
Owing to slovenly execution the animal form may degenerate according
to the motor habits of the individual artist. However, this would
not prove that the alligator, as such, is older than the line and dot
decoration. It must be borne in mind also, that the upturned snout of
the alligator, of which much is made as a means of identification,
is a character of much wider distribution than the alligator motive
itself. Representations of monkeys have it and we find it also in
representations from the interior of Costa Rica and from some parts of
South America. All this is also true of the curious nuchal appendage
which occurs in Costa Rica as well as in South America.
Equally instructive is the application of small nodes and fillets
to pottery which has been explained by Dr. G. G. MacCurdy as
resulting from degeneration of armadillo figures.[78] The essential
characteristic of all this ware is the use of small nodes and fillets
applied to the surface of the vessel or to some of its parts, like
feet, neck, shoulder or handle. These attachments are decorated by a
series of short parallel impressions. An oval node with single medial
line or lines is often used to indicate an eye; a similar nodule with
several parallel lines indicates the foot; a series of parallel, short
fillets with short parallel crosslines, are applied to forms that
represent animals, but they are also found on the bodies of vases. Dr.
C. V. Hartman[79] and S. K. Lothrop[80] describe the same technical
motives from other parts of Costa Rica. In technical character these
are so much like the Chiriqui specimens that we can hardly doubt that
they are derived from the same device. This method of decoration is
widely spread. Its use extends over Central America and the West
Indies. It is most characteristic of archaic ware, particularly
figurines of this early period are always modelled by means of
attaching nodules and fillets. During this period the eye is regularly
represented by a nodule with one or several incisions. This technique
is also found in Ecuador[81] up to more recent times. In the Toltec
period the adornment of vessels by attached nodule decoration reached
its highest development. In North America it is not common. Incised
fillets occur in remains from the middle Mississippi region but even
here they are not one of the pronounced features. In contrast with its
frequency in the highly developed pottery of early Central America its
rarity may be noted in Africa, where highly developed forms are by no
means absent, and where lids with animal figures might seem to suggest
readily the application of the device.[82] This is true also of the
prehistoric pottery of Europe. The nodule appears in the pottery of
Michelsberg, in Jaispitz (Moravia) and in a few other late localities.
Only in the slip (barbotine) decorations of the terra sigillata do we
find anything resembling the American appliqué ornamentation, but since
the material is applied in a semifluid state, it does not attain the
same freedom of treatment. Nodes that do occur in European prehistoric
pottery were apparently made rather in imitation of punched bronze
decorations and belong to a late period. Attached animal figures, made
in clay, like those found at Gemeinlebarn, also seem to be imitations
of metal work and have never reached that development which is so
characteristic of Central American ceramic art.
[78] George Grant MacCurdy, A Study of Chiriquian Antiquities, Memoirs
Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. 3 (1911), pp. 48 et seq.
[79] C. V. Hartman, Archaeological Researchers in Costa Rica,
Stockholm, 1901.
[80] Samuel Kirkland Lothrop. Pottery of Costa Rica and Nicaragua, New
York, Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, 1926.
[81] Marshall H. Saville, The Antiquities of Manabi, Ecuador, New York,
1910.
[82] See a relief ornament on a red ware vessel from Banana, Belgian
Congo, Annales du Musée du Congo; Notes analytiques sur les collections
ethnographiques, Vol. 2, Brussels, 1907, Les industries indigènes, Pl.
III, fig. 34.
The characteristic slit rattle feet of Chiriqui pottery prove even more
conclusively than the application of fillets and nodes, that the art
forms of this province must be considered as a special development of
forms characteristic of a much wider area. This type of foot is widely
spread beyond the territory in which the fish forms prevailed.[83]
[83] See Franz Boas y Manuel Gamio, Album de colecciones arqueológicas,
México, 1912, Plates 36, 42, 51.
We are thus led to the conclusion that the use of the nodes and fillets
for building up armadillo motives, are historically related to the
method of decorating vessels by means of the attachment of separate
pieces. The armadillo motive can then be only a specialized application
of building up animal motives from the elements in question. The
elements themselves must not be considered primarily as symbols of
the armadillo, nor can all the animals built up of these elements be
interpreted as armadillos.
The essential point of this consideration lies in the wide distribution
of technical and formal motives over large areas, although differing
in details in various localities. These technical and formal motives
are the materials with which the artist operates and they determine
the particular form which a geometrical motive or a life motive
takes. If the notched fillet and node are the material with which the
hand and the mind of the artist operate, they will occur in all his
representations.
The investigators who have tried to prove that conventionalized forms
originate through a process of degeneration from representations, have
generally overlooked the strong influence of motor habits and of formal
arrangements upon the resultant style. In those cases in which there
is a tendency to organize decorative motives in rectangular panels, in
circular areas, or in fields defined in other ways, the result must be
quite different from others in which the artist habitually arranges
his material in large fields or in continuous bands. The habit of
decorating pottery by moulding and by adding on relief forms, must
lead to results different from those which are obtained by painting
or engraving. The use of lines and the habit of using dots or circles
will also effect the resultant style. I think there can be very little
doubt that if an artist is in the habit of using dot designs combined
with lines and if, later on, he tries to represent an animal, this
particular method will be applied in the representation. The origin of
the motor habits must probably be looked for in technical processes,
that of arrangement in the same processes and in the forms of familiar
utensils.
Our examination of the factory-made material shows that the process
of slurring, or slovenly execution leads first of all to the
development of individual characteristics that can best be compared
with handwriting. Pronounced mannerisms permit us to recognize the hand
of the artisan. It is only when an unusually careful and ingenious
person operates with this traditional material that new forms develop,
analogous to those described by Balfour. It will readily be seen that
these conditions are not often realized in primitive society.
[Illustration: Fig. 130. Chinese embroidery representing bats.]
I believe another cause is more potent in bringing about a modification
of design. Ornamental patterns must be adjusted to the decorative field
to which they are applied. It is not often that the artist is satisfied
with representing part of his subject and cutting it off where the
decorative field ends. He will much rather distort and adjust the
parts in such a way that they all fit in the field that he has at his
disposal. When a bird is represented with outspread wings, which would
occupy approximately a square field, and the space to be decorated is
long and narrow, the artist may twist body and tail about, and draw out
the wings and thus squeeze the design into the available space. Henry
Balfour[84] gives as an instance the adjustment of Chinese figures of
bats to an ornamental band (fig. 130).
[84] The Evolution of Art, 1893, p. 50.
The northwest coast Indians, who always take the greatest liberties
with the outer forms of animals, do not hesitate to distort them in
a way that allows the artist to adjust the animal to the decorative
field. Their method will be discussed in greater detail at another
place (see pp. 183 et seq.).
On shell discs from the mounds of Tennessee the rattlesnake is so
represented (fig. 131). The head of the rattlesnake with upturned upper
jaw is readily recognized in fig. 131 _a_. Behind the mouth, the eye
represented by a number of circles, will be seen. The body continues
along the lower rim towards the right and terminates on the left, in
a rattle. The analogy between fig. _b_ and _a_ is easily recognized;
the essential difference consists in the fact that the body in _b_
is undecorated; the rattle lies just over and behind the eye. Figure
_c_ still preserves the same form, but added to the decorations found
in the preceding specimens, is the long loop with small circles
surrounding the eye. The position in _d_ is slightly changed; the eye
will be easily recognized and just to the right of it, more upright
than in the preceding specimens, is the mouth with a fang. The body
is in the same position as before, following the rim of the disk and
ending in a rattle. In _e_ the mouth is very much shortened and the eye
is reduced to a single small circle, while the body and tail retain
their characteristic features.
[Illustration: Fig. 131. Shell with representation of rattle snake.]
The formal elements which were discussed in the beginning of this book
exert a far-reaching influence upon decorative forms. The exigencies of
symmetry within a decorative field require adjustments which may modify
the representative form considerably. A peculiar effect of inverted
symmetry may be seen in those Borneo shields in which the whole shield
represents the face of a demon; one half to the left of the vertical
middle line right side up, the other half upside down.[85]
[85] A. R. Hein, Die bildende Künste bei den Dayaks of Borneo, figs.
48, 49, 51.
Much more potent than the necessities of formal adjustment is the
symbolic tendency which is liable to lead to abbreviations in which
the representation is reduced to the slightest indications. In our
former discussions we have seen that symbolic representations are
very common and that it happens in many cases that the symbol itself
is represented in a more or less perspective way. Wherever the art of
the people wavers between the symbolic and representative modes of
delineation, opportunity arises for the occurrence of realistic and
abbreviated forms, side by side. To this class belong the face urns,
the prehistoric representations of human figures in stone, and even
our busts and portraits may be considered as continuing this practice,
for they are fragmentary in so far as they show only that part of the
body in which we find the character of the individual most clearly
expressed; in part, because the rest of the body is always covered by
inexpressive clothing which hides whatever individuality may exist.
The principal character of forms of this type will be the tendency to
suggest an object by the indication of a few of the most characteristic
traits. It would probably be erroneous to speak in these cases of a
gradual breaking up of the realistic form and the development from it
of a conventional form, for this is not what actually happens. The two
types occur side by side.
STYLE
We have to take up now the problem of individual art styles. The
general formal elements of which we spoke before, namely symmetry,
rhythm, and emphasis or delimitation of form, do not describe
adequately a specific style, for they underlie all forms of ornamental
art. Representative art is more apt to develop differential features,
for in each area symbolic, perspective and wavering representations
have peculiar, pronounced characteristics. The principles of symbolic
selection and the method of composition help to individualize
representative art forms; but, besides these, many formal elements
are integral parts of every art style and these give it its most
specific character. The New Zealander, the Melanesian, the African,
the Northwest American, the Eskimo,—all are in the habit of carving
human figures in the round. They are all representative, and still the
provenience of each is easily determined on account of very definite
formal characteristics.
We shall direct our attention to an elucidation of the principles by
which art styles may be described. We shall also ask ourselves, in how
far the historical and psychological conditions under which art styles
grow up and flourish may be understood.
It will be well to begin with a simple problem. We have seen that we
may consider as works of art undecorated implements made by a perfectly
controlled technique,—in other words made by a virtuoso. Such are
polished stone axes, chipped arrow or lance heads, iron spear heads,
spoons, boxes; in short, any object of daily use, provided only the
form which we may recognize as conceived in crude specimens, is worked
out in a perfect technique. Objects of this kind, used for the same
purposes, have not by any means the same form everywhere. The specimens
accumulated in ethnological museums prove that, until very recent
times, before contamination by European wares, each locality, and
also each cultural period had developed fixed types that were rigidly
adhered to.
This observation is illustrated by the utensils of prehistoric times as
well as by those collected among the primitive tribes of our times. The
throwing sticks of the Eskimo may serve as an example. They are used to
give greater impetus to the hand-thrown weapon. The principle of their
use is the same among all the Eskimo tribes, but they present highly
specialized local forms, so distinct in appearance that each type may
with certainty be assigned to the region from which it comes (fig. 132).
[Illustration: Fig. 132. Throwing sticks of the Eskimo; _a_, Greenland;
_b_, Ungava Bay; _c_, Cumberland Sound; _d_, Point Barrow; _e_, Alaska
(exact location doubtful); _f_, Cape Nome.]
For the purpose of our inquiry it is important to understand the
reasons that bring about this fixity of type. In a tool like the
throwing stick it is obviously related to the manner of its use. The
clumsy board of Baffinland must feel unwieldy to the hand of a native
who has learned to handle the narrow, pegged stick from Bering Sea. The
adaptation of the hand to the handle does not permit the use of forms
that require unusual muscular movements which would lessen the accuracy
and ease of use. Therefore the variations of form are confined within
the limits established by the fixed motor habits of the people. Even if
a variation of form should appeal to the eye, it will not be adopted if
it should require a new adjustment of the hands. The more fundamental
the motor habits that determine the form of the implement, the less
likely will be a deviation from the customary type.
The motor habits which find expression in the forms of utensils are in
part highly specialized,—like those required for the effective use of
the throwing sticks just referred to,—but others are much more general
in character, and it would seem as though large divisions of mankind
were characterised by habits of this kind which influence the forms of
their implements and household goods. The restriction to the islands
of the Pacific Ocean of the process of producing fire by ploughing;
the areas of different types of arrow release described by Edward S.
Morse; the extended use of throwing clubs in Africa and their relative
insignificance in many parts of America are other examples of this kind.
A curious instance of the stability of motor habits is found among the
Eskimo; notwithstanding their great inventiveness the ancient Eskimo
does not seem to have used the saw for cutting large bones. The cutting
was always done by drilling holes close together along the line on
which the bone was to be divided. When enough holes had been drilled
the parts were separated by a blow of a hammer or by means of a wedge;
it seems that saws of flaked stone were entirely unknown to these
people.
Another instance may be cited; the Indians of the North Pacific Coast,
from southern Alaska to central Vancouver Island, do not practice
the art of stone chipping and flaking. All their stone work was made
either in tough stones that are handled by sawing, battering, pecking
and polishing, or in soft stones that can be cut with a knife and
rubbed down with polishing materials. The beautiful chipped blades,
characteristic of their Eskimo neighbors in the north and their Indian
neighbors on the interior plateaus and of the southern coast tribes,
are missing here entirely.
Similar observations may be made in regard to the handling of the
knife. The North American woodcarver of modern times uses principally
the crooked knife, the blade of which forms part of a spiral surface.
Archaeological specimens of this type are rare[86] so that it is
not certain whether this method of cutting was extensively used in
olden times. At present it is undoubtedly distributed over the whole
continent.[87] The knife is used like a spoke-shave, being drawn
towards the body. In Africa, on the other hand, carving is done with
a rasp and a straight[88] double-bladed knife. I find the use of a
crooked, sickle shaped knife mentioned only once, as being applied
to the shaving down of an arrow shaft and, presumably, to similar
purposes. Schweinfurth[89] mentions that the Mangbattu are the only
people in the regions he visited,—including even Egyptians—, who are
familiar with the use of the single-edged carving knife, while all the
others use the double-edged knife. Of the Ila speaking people it is
also said that they use a spear blade for carving[90].
[86] Harlan I. Smith, Archaeology of the Thompson River Region, Publ.
Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. I, fig. 352 _d_, p. 418; James
Teit, The Thompson Indians, _ibid._ figs. 125, 126. p. 184; perhaps
also the beaver tooth knife, _ibid._ fig. 49, p. 144.
[87] Otis T. Mason, Report U. S. National Museum, 1897, pt. 1, pp. 725
et seq.
[88] M. Weiss, Die Völkerstämme im Norden Deutsch-Ostafrikas, p. 421 et
seq.; also G. Tessmann, Die Pangwe, p. 222; Jan Czekanowski (Ruanda) l.
c. (see p. 111) p. 155.
[89] G. Schweinfurth, Im Herzen von Afrika, 3d ed. p. 349.
[90] E. W. Smith and A. M. Dale, The Ila-speaking Peoples of Northern
Rhodesia, Vol. I, p. 199.
Another example illustrating our point is presented by the hammers
used by the Indians of the northwest coast of North America. The coast
tribes of Washington use a hand hammer made of a single bowlder with a
lateral striking head, the tribes of Vancouver Island, a hand hammer
also made of a single bowlder, with a cylindrical shaft and a flat
striking head at the lower end[91]; those of northern British Columbia
a heavy hammerstone lashed to a large wooden handle.
[91] Franz Boas, The Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island, Publications of the
Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. 5, pp. 314 et seq.
In another way habits of movement or position find expression in
household furniture and dress. Tribes among which squatting on the
ground is habitual do not use stools or chairs. Those in the habit of
lying on their sides do not use neck rests which are found among people
with elaborate hair dress that lie on their backs.
The clothing of women is adapted to the manner in which they carry
their children. The hood of the Eskimo woman of Baffinland accommodates
the child that is carried on the back. The wide boot of the women of
Southampton Island and of the ancient styles of Hudson Strait served to
protect the child that was carried on the hip.
It is hardly likely that the habits of the people originated from forms
of the household goods they used. It is much more probable that the
inventions were determined by older habits. In later times the relation
may have been reversed, in so far as each generation stabilizes its
habits in accordance with the objects to which it is accustomed.
A similar permanence of form of utensils which are adjusted to definite
motor habits exists in modern times, as is illustrated by the rigidity
of form of many tradesmen’s tools or the permanence of the keyboard of
the piano.
The same conservatism, although based on the training of another sense
organ, is found in the stability of the forms of the letters of our
alphabet. In writing, both the firmly established motor habits and
the fixity of the associations between visual image and form, help to
stabilize old forms and to make difficult innovations.
The stability of language is another phenomenon of the same kind.
The fundamental phonetic characteristics of a language are based on
motor habits; the use of vocabulary and of grammatical forms partly on
auditory associations. In all these cases; in the use of tools, forms
and language the mind becomes so thoroughly adjusted to the use of
definite motor habits, and to certain types of association between
sense impressions and definite activities, that a resistance to change
appears as the most natural mental attitude; if for no other reason,
because it requires the effort of unlearning and relearning. It must be
understood that this does not imply an absolute stability, which does
not exist, but merely the individual resistance to sudden changes.
In another way this resistance is expressed through an emotional
attachment to customary forms. In the domain of tools it is perhaps
not so much the pleasure of play that induces man to bestow much labor
upon the manufacture of his utensils, as rather the love of the special
tool that he is using, a love that implies pleasure in the customary
movements as well as in the form of the implement. This mental attitude
is one of the most important sources of the conservatism in the form
of objects of use, and of the tendency to give to them the greatest
possible technical excellence. The intensity of the emotional relation
between a person and his tool is naturally greatest when maker and
user are the same person; it must decay with the ease with which
substitutes are obtained. Here is one of the causes of the rapid decay
in the beauty of form of native utensils as soon as European tools and
manufactures are introduced.
While the lack of variation in the forms of utensils, and their
regional characterisation are often expressions of definite motor
habits, or of other sensory reactions that are firmly associated
with useful activities which have become culturally fixed, there are
other cases in which conservative retention of form may not be thus
explained. This is true particularly when the use of an object does
not depend to any considerable extent upon its form. Whether a basket
is round or oblong, angular or without corners does not influence the
mode of its use, unless it serves as a carrying basket. Still, in many
cases the familiarity established through long use of the objects
may readily lead to an emotional attachment that finds expression
in permanence of form, and in the refusal to accept new, unfamiliar
shapes for every day use, an emotional resistance to change that may
be variously expressed,—as a feeling of impropriety of certain forms;
of a particular social or religious value, or of superstitious fear of
change. Permanence of form is also favored by the participation of many
individuals in the manufacture of objects. In most cases every person
supplies his own needs. The number of original minds is certainly no
larger in primitive society than in our own, although I do not believe
that it is any smaller. The bulk of the makers of objects of every day
use are, therefore, imitators, not originators, and the mass of uniform
material that is in use and constantly seen will restrict the free
play of imagination of the original minds. The desire for deliberate
attempts to create something novel, that characterises the industries
of our times, is not present, just as little as it is present among our
peasants, so far as they are uncontaminated by city influences. I do
not mean to imply that primitive forms are absolutely stable. Nothing
could be farther from the truth; but the conscious striving for change
that characterizes our fashions, is rare. We are also conservative in
forms, a modification of which would require fundamental changes of
habits.
The stability of the inner arrangements of houses, notwithstanding
all variations in detail; the adherence to types of windows used in
different countries; the forms of churches, our localized food habits
are all examples of a considerable degree of conservatism. This
prevails also at least in part, in the fundamental patterns of male and
female attire.
Conservatism of form makes itself felt in many cases in which an object
is made of new material. The relinquishment of the old material may
be due to lack of an adequate supply of the old material, or it may
be an innovation due to an inner creative impulse. It constitutes
a break with the past. The old forms, however, are often retained.
Such substitutions are the more liable to occur the more plastic the
new material. Pottery, to a lesser extent wood, and also stone are
the principal materials in which forms can be imitated in the round.
Particularly pottery lends itself readily to the manufacture of a great
variety of forms. When the necessary skill in tempering the clay, in
modeling and firing has been attained, the opportunity is presented
for copying a great variety of forms. Thus we find shell dishes and
spoons, gourd vessels and basket forms imitated in pottery. We still
continue doing so. We have in our China ware innumerable instances of
copies of even the finest fabrics. In Africa we find clay lamps which
are evidently derived from the forms of bronze lamps of antiquity
in which the complicated feet are imitations of wire work, and many
pottery vessels seem to be copies of baskets. For instance, the handled
ceremonial clay dishes of the Pueblo Indians look more like baskets
than like pottery forms.
On account of the great frequency of imitative forms in pottery the
theory has been advanced, that all pottery forms must have originated
from prototypes that were first made in some other technique. Professor
Schuchardt[92] assumes that the first neolithic forms which are
pointed at the base, must be copies of bottles made of hide. Cushing
and Holmes[93] have advocated the theory that pottery and pottery
designs developed from basketry, that pots were first of all modeled
over a basket and that the basket with its clay cover was then fired.
The basket was thus burnt and the clay vessel remained in the form of
the basket. In corroboration of this theory it has been pointed out
that actually clay covered baskets have been found, on the surface of
which the ornamental pattern that is usually found on the basket is
painted on the clay. These attempts do not seem to me convincing. The
oldest pottery that we know is very crude and does not recall any other
technical form. The Eskimo made clay lamps of unbaked clay that seems
to be merely squeezed into shape. It seems much more likely that the
firing of clay was discovered when foods were cooked on clayey soil or
in pits in clayey ground, than that baskets should be made watertight
by an application of clay and that the basket, the making of which is
a laborious process, should then have been intentionally destroyed.
However, I do not wish to introduce a new unproven theory in place of
others. For our purpose it is sufficient to recognize the frequent
copies of natural and technical forms in pottery.
[92] Carl Schuchardt, Alteuropa, Berlin 1919, p. 44.
[93] W. H. Holmes, Origin and Development of Form and Ornament in
Ceramic Art, Frank Hamilton Cushing, A Study of Pueblo Pottery; Fourth
Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, Washington, 1886. There is, however,
evidence that pots were moulded on baskets, then removed and fired.
The same happens, although not quite so extensively in wood carving and
even in stone work, particularly in soft stones that may be worked with
a knife. Wooden copies of objects made of buffalo horn occur in Africa.
Many of the beautifully carved wooden goblets from the Congo region
look to me like pottery vessels, held in place by stone supports.
Carvings in wood imitate forms made by joining pieces together. In some
regions we find stone vessels of the same form that is usually used for
wooden ones. Best known among imitative stone forms are the prehistoric
European stone axes which are copies of the forms of bronze weapons
that were in use in more southern regions, or the stone settees of
ancient South America, copies of wooden seats.
We have spoken so far only of the general forms of the objects, not
of decoration or ornament. We have seen in our discussion of the
purely formal elements that the technique will sometimes bring about
patterns on the surfaces of the manufactured objects. We mentioned
the patterns produced by flaking of stone, by adzing and by weaving
with coarse material. The importance of these surface patterns for
the development or ornament can hardly be overstated. When a large
board is adzed, the workman must shift his position in order to cover
the whole board. According to the way he moves, different patterns of
adjoining surfaces may develop. Much more important are the patterns
that naturally develop when a weaver plays with his technique, that
is when he or she is no longer satisfied with the simple weaving up
and down, but begins to skip strands and thus introduces more complex
rhythms of movement. The solidity of the fabric requires alternations
of skipping and thus the twilling leads immediately to diagonal surface
patterns. The more complex the rhythmic movements, the more complex
will also be the patterns. The attempt has been made to trace the
origin of all important decorative patterns to this source. I presume
this is an exaggeration, because other conditions may as well lead to
the discovery of designs. I say advisedly discovery, not invention,
for I believe, with those investigators who would derive all patterns
from weaving, that intentional invention is less important than the
discovery of possibilities which come to be observed as an effect of
the play, particularly the rhythmic play with technical processes.
I presume that the occurrence of a number of simple ornamental elements
may be explained as technically determined. We have seen before that
the straight line and the regular curve such as circle and spiral
presuppose an accurate technique, that they are too rare in nature to
be considered as representative in character. The straight line may
be the result of cutting, folding or splitting some kinds of wood, of
the use of reeds or similar materials, of stretching fibres and of
many other processes. Circles may originate by the regular turning of
coiled basketry and of coiled pottery: spirals by the laying of coarse
coils. Weaving in coarse material leads to rectangular figures, to
checker patterns, steplike diagonals and to many other complicated
forms. Tying with cord produces straight lines intersecting at various
angles and also parallel, circular and spiral forms. We may confidently
claim independent origin in separate areas for the triangular design in
basketry (fig. 104 _a_, _b_, p. 109); for simple radial forms in coiled
basketry placques; for the swastika cross, the meander and for many
other simple forms, like the spirals of prehistoric Bohemia; of eastern
Siberia; of Melanesia and of ancient New Mexico; in the sameness of
design elements from Africa and America; in the occurrence of the
circle and central dot in prehistoric Europe and among the Eskimo.
The principle of symmetry, of balance, of rhythmic repetition and of
emphasis laid upon prominent points or lines apply to all kinds of
technique and many lead to parallel developments.
We have seen that in some cases, simple elements which develop
independently, possess stylistic peculiarities that differentiate
one locality from another. But even if the forms are identical, the
arrangement in the decorative field is liable to give a specific form
to the art of each locality.
The negroes of the Congo present an excellent example of the transfer
of design from one technique to another. Their woven patterns consist
largely of intersecting bands, imitating the interweaving of broad
bands. These motives appear in most of the decorative work of these
tribes. Their embroidered pile cloth (fig. 133) imitates the interwoven
patterns; they reappear on their wood carvings, particularly on their
goblets (see fig. 52, p. 59), and on carvings on buffalo horns.
[Illustration: Fig. 133. Pile cloth, Congo.]
Interwoven bands that look like imitations of coarse weaving are also
very common in American art. They are found in many parts of South
America and among the Pueblo Indians. Some of the wood carving of Tonga
is evidently influenced in style by the artistic methods of tying,
which are highly developed in the islands of the Pacific Ocean.
Granting all this, it still remains obscure why there should be that
degree of individualization of style that is actually observed even
where similar technical processes prevail. The Indians of Guiana and
the Indonesians use the same methods of weaving in rather broad, stiff
materials. The technical conditions controlling their basketry work are
practically the same. Nevertheless the styles of art they use are quite
distinctive.
We conclude from this that besides the influence of the technique
there must be some other causes that determine the individual style of
each area. I doubt very much that it will ever be possible to give a
satisfactory explanation of the origin of these styles, just as little
as we can discover all the psychological and historical conditions that
determine the development of language, social structure, mythology or
religion. All these are so exceedingly complex in their growth that
even at best we can do no more than hope to unravel some of the threads
that are woven into the present fabric and determine some of the lines
of behavior that may help us to realize what is happening in the minds
of the people.
We have to turn our attention first of all to the artist himself.
Heretofore we have considered only the work of art without any
reference to the maker. Only in the case of slovenly work have we
referred to the artisan. It has appeared that his behavior as revealed
in his work helped us to understand the fate of the designs. We may
hope, therefore, that in the broader question also knowledge of the
attitude and actions of the artist will contribute to a clearer
understanding of the history of art styles. Unfortunately, observations
on this subject are very rare and unsatisfactory, for it requires an
intimate knowledge of the people to understand the innermost thoughts
and feelings of the artist. Even with thorough knowledge the problem is
exceedingly difficult, for the mental processes of artistic production
do not take place in the full light of consciousness. The highest type
of artistic production is there, and its creator does not know whence
it comes. It would be an error to assume that this attitude is absent
among tribes whose artistic productions seem to us so much bound by
a hard and fast style that there is little room for the expression of
individual feeling and for the freedom of the creative genius. I recall
the instance of an Indian from Vancouver Island who was suffering of
a lingering malady that confined him to his bed. He had been a good
painter but his productions did not differ stylistically in any way
from those of his tribe. During his long illness he would sit on
his bed, holding his brush between his lips, silent and apparently
oblivious of his surroundings. He could hardly be induced to speak,
but when he spoke he dilated upon his visions of designs that he could
no longer execute. Undoubtedly his was the mind and the attitude of a
true, inspired artist.
The general character of the artistic productions of man, the world
over, shows that the style has the power of limiting the inventiveness
of the productive artist; for, if we grant that potential genius like
the one just described is born in all cultures, then the uniformity of
art forms in a given tribe can be understood only by these limitations.
The restriction of inventiveness is not due, as might perhaps be
supposed, to the habit of copying old designs and to a sluggishness
of the imagination of the artisan who finds it easier to copy than to
invent. On the contrary, primitive artists hardly ever copy. Only in
very exceptional cases are found working designs such as we employ in
embroidery, dressmaking, woodcarving and architecture. The work is
laid out in the mind of the maker before he begins and is a direct
realization of the mental image. In the process of carrying out such
a plan technical difficulties may arise that compel him to alter his
intentions. Such instances can easily be discovered in the finished
product and are highly instructive, because they throw a strong light
upon the mental processes of the workman. We may see particularly
in richly decorated basketry how such difficulties arise and what
influence they exert upon the development of the design.
Even in the making of mass products, like the pottery which we
described before, (pp. 132 et seq.) copying is evidently not
practised. The patterns are so simple and require only a small number
of standardized movements which are combined in a variety of ways.
The method of work corresponds strictly to our method of writing in
which also a number of standardized movements occur in a multitude of
combinations.
Although the artisan works without copying, his imagination never
rises beyond the level of the copyist, for he merely uses familiar
motives composed in customary ways. It does not require much practice
to learn how to carry out such simple work without patterns. The method
of procedure is the same as that followed in European folk art. The
embroidered or woven patterns, the wood carvings of European peasants
are not copies of patterns but the results of individual composition.
Pattern books appear only at a time when the folk art is decadent.
Therefore, notwithstanding the rigidity of style it would be difficult
to find two objects that have identical ornamentation.
When designs are very complex, and rigid symmetry or accurate rhythmic
repetitions are required, we find sometimes the use of stencils. It
does also happen, that one person plans a design and another executes
it. In these cases actual copying may occur; both of these instances
are rare in primitive culture and do not modify the general picture as
here outlined.
It is interesting to hear the opinions of individuals who create new
designs. We have already seen that the novelty consists generally in
the combination of old pattern elements in new ways. Nevertheless, the
authors of these designs are convinced that they have created something
new. I have information on the attitude of these artists only from the
North American Indians. They call designs of this kind “dream designs”,
and claim that the new pattern actually appeared to them in a dream.
This explanation of the origin of the new form is remarkably uniform
over the whole continent. It has been recorded on the Great Plains,
on the north western Plateaus and among the Pueblo Indians. There is
little doubt but that this is merely another term for invention. It
expresses a strong power of visualization which manifests itself when
the person is alone and at rest, when he can give free play to the
imagination. Perhaps the artists have greater eidetic power than most
adults among ourselves. The few individuals who create new forms in
this manner have probably a good control over the technique and wide
command over a multitude of current forms. In the one case which has
been investigated with some care by James Teit the woman who created
new basketry patterns was also one of the best technicians and had full
command over the greatest variety of forms.
When the patterns made by individual artists are compared, it is seen
that the number of designs made by different individuals differs very
considerably. Some have command of the full range of forms, while
others are satisfied with a small number which they repeat over and
over again.
The controlling power of a strong, traditional style is surprising.
The Northwest coast people have characteristic methods of representing
heads, eyes, eyebrows and joints; fig. 67 (p. 71) shows the attempt of
an excellent Haida artist who tried to illustrate the tale of an eagle
who carried away a woman.
The general form of the eagle is quite realistic, but the artist could
not avoid placing the characteristic eye design in the wing joint of
the eagle, and to render the head in the conventional style in which
the eagle is shown. The woman whom the eagle carries has the typical
eyebrow and cheek patterns. The style has penetrated the picture which
was planned as a realistic representation.
Similar observations may be made in regard to the Wasgo, the fabulous
sea-monster with a wolf’s body and large ears. In fig. 134 it is shown
carrying a whale between its ears, another one in its tail, and a
person in the mouth. It has the characteristic high nose of the wolf,
the ears turned back (here shown as transparent). The large shoulder
and hip joints and the hands and feet in form of eyes are features of
Northwest coast art. The whale with its round eyes, blow-hole, and
characteristic tail conforms also to the local art style. Still the
artist attempted to give a realistic painting.
[Illustration: Fig. 134. Haida painting representing a sea-monster in
the form of a wolf, carrying two whales.]
[Illustration: Fig. 135. Haida drawing representing the story of a
young man who caught a sea-monster.]
Quite analagous is another painting by the same Haida artist, Charles
Edensaw (fig. 135) who tried to illustrate for me a Haida story of
a man who caught the sea-monster Wasgo by placing a split cedar tree
under water. It was held open by means of a spreading-stick. A child
was placed in it as bait and when the monster appeared to devour the
child, the youth knocked out the spreading-stick; the tree closed and
caught the monster. In this sketch the tree is shown by the black,
sharp angle, set on the inside with teeth that killed the monster. The
spreading-stick, which holds the split tree apart is indicated by the
black crossbar. The Wasgo in the form of a wolf with large dorsal fin
is shown biting the head of the child, while the youth sits on the
tree. The story continues telling that the youth dons the Wasgo skin
and goes every night to hunt sea game which he deposits on the beach of
the village. His mother-in-law claims shamanistic power and pretends to
have obtained the game. When the youth makes known that he has killed
it, his mother-in-law falls down being shamed by the young man. She is
shown on the left in shamanistic dress with shell rattles, shamanistic
apron, neck ring of bone ornaments and the shamanistic crown. Her
position indicates that she is falling. It will be noticed that here
also every figure shows characteristic traits of the northwest coast
ornamental style.
[Illustration: Fig. 136. Haida drawing representing part of the raven
story.]
In fig. 136 part of the raven story is represented. The human figure
in the left hand upper corner presumably represents the owner of the
halibut hook. Under it is shown the raven flying and carrying on his
back the owner of the halibut hook. According to this story he throws
him into the sea, takes the halibut hook and begins to fish. This
incident is shown on the right hand side of the sketch. The meaning of
the seal in the upper right hand corner is not clear.
We have seen that in representative art the particular type of
perspective or symbolic form or the combination of the two determines
in part the local style. We have to turn now to a consideration of the
purely formal elements that characterize style. We may distinguish
here between the forms of ornamentation and their composition. A
general survey of the field of primitive art convinces us at once of
the great variety of elementary forms and of their sharp localization.
As an instance of the importance of fundamental forms I choose the
occurrence of the spiral. It is characteristic of the art of New
Zealand, of Melanesia, and of the Amur tribes,—to select only a few
typical examples. And still, how great are the differences, how sharply
specialized the spiral of each of these districts!
Practically all the spirals in primitive art are equidistant. It can
easily be shown that spirals develop in many different ways. As has
been pointed out by Semper, the coiling of wire or the making of coiled
basketry or pottery must lead to the discovery of the ornamental
spiral. Wrapping with twine may have a similar result. In other cases
the spiral develops without technical motives from natural forms. This
is exemplified, for instance, by the spirals used for expressing the
nostrils of the beaver, bear and dragon-fly in northwest coast art (see
figs. 157 p. 186, 175 p. 193). It is, however, doubtful whether the
spiral has ever become in this manner a dominant motive of local art.
[Illustration: Fig. 137. Types of New Zealand spirals.]
The New Zealand carved spiral (fig. 137) is generally double; one
arm running in, the other out, and the two clasping each other in the
center. The spirals are so placed that their general contours harmonize
with the decorative field, although their outer turns often cut into
its borders. The appearance of the spiral is strongly influenced by
the application of a common pattern of carving, which consists of a
long lineal field with crosshatching limited by two or more equidistant
lines. The two arms of the spiral are connected at regular intervals
by small bars having crossline decoration. In other cases the spirals
themselves are decorated with crosslines, while the surrounding
lines are smooth. Sometimes the spirals are given a notched outline.
Single spirals consisting of a number of equidistant lines, occur in
tattooing and in wood carving representing tattooed faces. Spirals are
often connected and form S shaped figures and when placed serially
in a narrow field, they are accompanied by a series of equidistant
lines,—fragments of the outer turns that would have shown if the spiral
had been able to develop freely.
The spiral of eastern New Guinea is in some ways similar to the one of
New Zealand. The double spiral appears commonly in both areas, also
the notches or scallops on the spiral and the filling in of the gore
with curved lines accompanying the outer turns of the spiral (fig.
138). The lack of connecting bars, of the crossline decoration and the
fundamentally different design arrangement, as well as the treatment in
black and white differentiate the New Guinea spiral from that of New
Zealand. The curves are fitted much more rigorously in the decorative
field. The great freedom of the New Zealand forms, the delicate
accuracy of all the constituent elements, and the multiplicity of forms
connected with the spiral, are absent.
The third area, the Amur region, in which the spiral is used
extensively, represents fundamentally different forms, (fig. 139).
While the spirals of New Zealand and those of New Guinea are equally
wide through the whole distance of their course, those of the Amur
region show peculiar lateral developments. The spirals of this area are
generally single, and broad; or double, but the spirals do not clasp
each other. The outlines of the spiral bands are varied by strictures.
Where the general course of these spirals leaves fields that would
remain undecorated, they are filled in by broad tendrils, leaf like
projections or by independent circular ornaments that help to keep the
background broken up in bands that retain throughout approximately the
same width. Often the variations in the lines of spirals form animal
figures, particularly birds and fishes; sometimes of fairly realistic
form.
[Illustration: Fig. 138. Types of spirals from eastern New Guinea.]
[Illustration: Fig. 139. Spirals from the Amur River.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: Fig. 140. Pictographs representing human beings: _a_,
Potawatomi; _b_, Wahpeton Sioux; _c_, Blackfoot; _d_, Dakota; _e_,
Alaskan Eskimo; _f_, Pencil sketches by Eskimo from the west coast of
Hudson Bay.]
Fixity of form occurs even in crude representative drawings made
without such technical skill as is developed in industrial occupations.
This is strikingly illustrated by certain forms used by the Algonquin
tribes of the woodlands around the western Great Lakes and also by the
neighboring Siouan tribes. In their pictographs the human figures
appear regularly with broad shoulders, tapering down in straight
lines to the waist. Sometimes the figure is cut off at this place;
sometimes it expands downward from the waist. Fig. 140 _a_ represents
a Potawatomi drawing; fig. 140 _b_ a Wahpeton Sioux drawing of the
same type. In the winter counts of the Sioux published by Mallory,
the human figure is represented in quite a different style, (fig.
140 _d_). This type occurs both in the La Flamme and Lone-Dog winter
counts. We may compare these forms with the typical symbol used by the
Blackfeet to represent a slain enemy, which, according to Wissler,
has always the form given in _c_. On the reproductions of pictographs
the same form appears, often with only one leg. Quite distinct from
these Plains Indians types are the forms used by the Alaskan Eskimos
in their etchings on bone, antler, and ivory (_e_). The forms are
always small silhouettes in lively motion and the realism of form and
movement of the Eskimo etchings forms a strong contrast when compared
to the conventional style of the Plains and Woodlands Indians. Even
the pictographic representations of men in motion, which do occur in
other types of Plains Indian drawings, differ entirely in style from
those of the Eskimo. The style of the eastern Eskimos representation of
the human form differs considerably from that of the Alaskan Eskimo.
They do not use silhouettes but draw their forms true to life with
particular attention to the details of the clothing (fig. 140 _f_).
[Illustration: Fig. 141. Pictographs; _a_, _b_, _c_, from the Cueva de
los Caballos; _d_, Bushman.]
Quite distinct from these forms are the representations of the human
form made by the Bushman and by paleolithic man. They are always
silhouettes of large size with strong exaggerations of characteristic
forms and movements of the body, (fig. 141). Obermaier has described
these in detail.[94] Some of the figures in lively motion are
represented with thread-like legs and body, while in other cases
the calves of the legs are shown in exaggerated sizes. The Bushman
paintings are somewhat similar in type to those of the paleolithic
period. We find the same exaggeration of the length of the limbs and
particularly in the representation of females, exaggeration of all the
characteristic features of the body.
[94] H. Obermaier, P. Wernert, Las Pinturas Rupestres del Barranco de
Valletorta. (Castellon) Comisión de investigaciones paleontológicas
y prehistóricas, Mem. No. 23. Museo Nacional de ciencias naturales,
Madrid 1919.
* * * * *
In almost every art definite stylistic forms may be recognized. I will
add a few additional examples based on certain classes of objects which
illustrate this.
Miss Ruth Bunzel has given to me a full description of the decoration
of the water jar of the Zuni. “It is characterized by great stability
in decorative style. The form of the jar itself shows very slight
variations. The outer surface is slipped with white clay which serves
as a background for painted decorations in black and red. The most
characteristic feature of the decorative scheme is the boxing off of
the field into clearly defined areas outlined by heavy black lines. The
ways in which the field is thus divided and the designs permissible in
each section are all definitely prescribed by prevailing standards of
taste.
“Essential on every jar is the division of the field into two zones
known as neck and body. Neck designs are always used in pairs, four
or six alternating units being used on each jar. At the present
time the choice of designs for the neck is limited to two sets of
designs, the way in which they are combined being absolutely fixed.
Alternating diamond and triangular patterns, both highly elaborated,
are used together, and, on the other hand a scroll and conventionalized
prayer-stick are used together on other jars.
“For the body there is a greater choice of design, but the choice is
between certain well known patterns, and the ways in which each may be
used are definitely fixed. The most characteristic and, at the present
time, the most popular type is the deer-sunflower pattern (fig. 142).
Two large medallions representing sunflowers are painted on opposite
sides of the jar. Three such medallions are sometimes used, but two
is the preferred number. The space between the medallions is divided
horizontally by a narrow band. The band may be filled with small
conventionalized birds or with an interlocking scroll figure. In each
of the spaces formed by this band are painted two deer, each surrounded
by graceful scroll work, called in Zuni terminology ‘the deer’s house’.
In all, eight deer are used, two in each of the four fields. The deer
are always painted in exactly the same way, in profile with the head
to the right, and with certain of the internal organs indicated.
There is no variation even in the ornamental scrolls surrounding the
representation. In small jars it is permitted to substitute for the
deer on the lower and smaller part of the jar one of several well
defined crook or scroll patterns, but any other departures from the
established scheme are severely criticised. The first of the two rim
designs referred to above is always used with the deer pattern. The
whole composition in precisely the combination described appears over
and over again in water jars now in use at Zuni as well as in older
specimens now in our museums, and the fixity of the type is clearly
recognized by native artists.
[Illustration: Fig. 142. Zuni pot.]
“This is only one of a number of equally fixed types of decoration at
present in favor at Zuni. There is, for instance, one very elaborate
terraced figure repeated in literally hundreds of specimens of water
jars, and always without the slightest variation either in the figure
itself or in its application to the jar. It is always used in threes
and with the second of the two rim designs. There are other types also,
any one of which is known to and can be described by any well informed
Zuni potter. Although the invention of new designs is considered
eminently desirable among them, the actual number of Zuni pots that do
not belong to one or the other of these recognized types is exceedingly
small.”
[Illustration: Fig. 143. Haussa embroideries.]
As another example I choose the style of embroidery on Haussa shirts
(fig. 143). Felix von Luschan has called attention to the rigidity of
the general pattern.[95] A narrow elongated field in the left hand
upper corner of the design surrounded on the left by a thin white line,
on the right by a white field with long pointed triangles, limits the
hole through which the head passes. The white disk to the left of it
rests, therefore on the right side of the chest, the upper disk on
the right shoulder blade. The line dividing the design into an upper
and lower part, beginning just at the lower end of the slit through
which the head passes, sets off the embroidery on the body of the shirt
from that on the large pocket below. The upper rim of the pocket is
always decorated with a central design, consisting of a square field
with checkered figures, to the left of which are two triangles, to
the right, three. In many specimens there is, on the right border of
the field, a looped band. The design on the lower part of the pocket
and the one on the body of the shirt are, in the main, symmetrical.
The three-barbed arrow pattern of the lower border reappears on top
followed inside by the same type of rosette. The two designs differ,
however, in so far as the three-pointed pattern with the connected loop
band is repeated to the right of the slit for the head, turned at right
angles to the corresponding portion on the pocket border. This pattern
disturbs the symmetry of the upper and lower designs and produces a
distortion of the upper one which, however, does not influence the
pattern elements. On the pocket below and to the left, is a rectangular
band with a leaf design forming an inner border.
[95] Felix von Luschan, Beiträge zur Völkerkunde, p. 50. Patterns of
the same kind have been figured by Leo Frobenius in “Das sterbende
Afrika,” Pls. 58-60.
Great fixity of design appears also in the rawhide boxes of the Sauk
and Fox Indians, to which I referred before (p. 25 et seq.). The
characteristic feature is the division of the rectangular hide that is
to form the box, into three fields lengthwise, five fields crosswise.
The five fields are determined by the way in which the box is folded;
four sides forming front, bottom, back and top, and the fifth a flap
covering the front. The lengthwise division is not so determined, for
the width of the box differs considerably from that of the central
field. The design elements are based on common patterns of the Indians
of the northern part of North America: rectangles divided by central
longitudinal lines and obtuse triangles on each side of it. It should
be noticed that the design unit is not the diamond but the rectangle
with two obtuse triangles that have the apex near the central dividing
line. This appears clearly in the specimen shown in fig. 144 _b_ in
which every design begins at the margin with a triangle pointing inward
towards the opposite triangle and also in the other figures in which,
in accordance with the art style of the eastern woodlands, a segment
is substituted for the acute triangle. A second element in these
designs is the acute triangle with lines, or a single line, extending
from the apex; a form which is also common to all the woodland and
plains Indians.
[Illustration: Fig. 144. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox.]
[Illustration: Fig. 145. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox.]
Two styles of these paintings may be distinguished; one in which the
five crosswise fields are so treated that the patterns on the three
central rectangular fields (2, 3, 4) are at right angles to those in
the two extreme fields (1, 5). In the central fields the long sides
of the rectangles run parallel to the narrow side of the hide and in
the outer ones, the rectangles are turned so that the long sides are
parallel to the long side of the hide. The central lengthwise field
extends only over the three middle fields and is very narrow (figs.
14, 144, _a_, _b_). The only ornament on fig. 144 _b_ is the rectangle
with two obtuse triangles facing at the apex. To the four rectangles
on 2, 3, 4 correspond four corresponding ones in the fields 1 and
5. In fig. 144 _a_ there is an alternation of two designs in these
fields. There are two triangles with protruding lines with complex
frames, and rectangles with the obtuse triangles transformed into
segments. The central dividing line in these rectangles is missing. It
will be noticed that here also the number of rectangles in the three
inner fields (2, 3, 4) corresponds to the number in the outer fields
(1 and 5), but their order is reversed. Left and right triangles in
the outer fields (1 and 5) are also in reverse positions. The narrow
central field is occupied by a single acute triangle. In fig. 145 _b_
we have a similar arrangement, but in place of the rectangle with
obtuse triangles, we find a new arrangement of acute triangles. Fig.
14 (p. 27) differs from those just described in that the central field
is divided into two divisions instead of four. The obtuse triangles
in the four corners are treated somewhat differently and the figure
between them in the middle of the short side is treated as though the
essential design were the diamond, not the obtuse triangle. The heart
shaped design and the star like figures give the impression of a new
development of older patterns.
[Illustration: Fig. 146. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox.]
In figures 13, 15, 145 _a_ and 146 the rectangles are all placed in the
same direction; the long side parallel to the short side of the hide.
Fig. 145 _a_ consists throughout of curved segments corresponding to the
obtuse triangles. At the apices of these segments the rectangles are
divided by central lines. The fields separating the rectangles bear
each an acute triangle with prolonged apex. In the narrow central field
we find also the acute triangle with extending lines. Fig. 15 consists
of the acute triangle with the usual frame but with scolloped edges
instead of the angular figures of fig. 145 _b_. The central field is
treated in the same way as in fig. 145 _a_. Fig. 13 corresponds nearly
to fig. 145 _a_, except that the rectangular fields are not divided by
a central line, but have a central figure somewhat hour-glass shaped
enclosing an acute triangle at each end. The crosses in the middle
field are also derived from the acute triangles. The three central
fields of the long side of fig. 146 _b_ correspond to fig. 144 _a_.
Since the rectangles in the marginal field on the short side are not
turned, the acute triangle design did not fit and we find, therefore,
instead the cross design. The lack of symmetry between the extreme
upper and lower fields is quite unusual. In fig. 146 _a_ we find, as
in fig. 14, only four fields. The designs are similar in character
to those of fig. 146 _b_, except that the acute triangle design is
developed in a peculiar manner.
[Illustration: Fig. 147. Painted rawhide, Ioway.]
The Ojibwa and Ioway use another method of building up their boxes. The
short sides are made of separate flaps and there is no flap covering
the front. The bottom is not decorated and the hide is folded over
simply in box form and sewed together (fig. 147). The method used by
the Otoe and sometimes by the Ioway, is still different. There is
a short flap covering part of the front; the sides are folded in,
somewhat in the same manner as done by the Fox and there is also a
complete lack of coherence between the design as laid out on the hide
and as it appears in the completed box (fig. 148).
[Illustration: Fig. 148. Painted rawhides; _a_, Ioway; _b_, Otoe.]
Still another example of fixity of type is presented in the woven bags
of the Ojibwa and Potawatomi (figs. 149, 150). The two opposite sides
have always distinct patterns. The purely geometrical patterns are
always laid out symmetrically. There is a broad central figure bordered
by a number of narrow stripes. These are followed, above and below by
a wide stripe of a pattern different from the central one. Sometimes
the colors above and below are inverted. The dividing line runs all
around the bag, but the patterns in the broad bands change. On the one
side there are often representative figures above, and in this case
there is no correspondence between the upper and lower designs. Similar
bags are used by other neighboring tribes. The Potawatomi use the same
decorative arrangements, except that the central band often remains
undecorated.[96]
[96] See Alanson Skinner, The Mascontens or Prairie Potawatomi Indians,
Bull. Public Museum of the City of Milwaukee, Vol. 6, No. 2, Plate 21.
[Illustration: Fig. 149. Design from pouch, Ojibwa.]
[Illustration: Fig. 150. Design from two sides of pouch, Potawatomi.]
[Illustration: Fig. 151 _a_. Type of parfleche and pouch painting,
Arapaho.]
For a clear understanding of the character of a local style a
comparison with related forms in contiguous areas is indispensable.
Historical conditions like those that may be traced in the development
of art forms in prehistoric and historic times in Europe and in Asia
have been determinants in forming the art of primitive people also.
There is probably not a single region in existence in which the art
style may be understood entirely as an inner growth and an expression
of cultural life of a single tribe. Wherever a sufficient amount of
material is available, we can trace the influence of neighboring
tribes upon one another, often extending over vast distances.
Dissemination of cultural traits that has made the social structures,
the ceremonials and the tales of tribes what they are today, has also
been a most important element in shaping the forms of their art. The
local distribution of technical processes, of form elements, and
of systems of arrangement contribute to the character of each art
style. In another place we have discussed the distribution of pottery
decorated by means of applied pellets and fillets (see p. 138), and
it appeared that the technical process covers a wide continuous area
and that it is applied in different ways by each cultural group.
We have also seen that the characteristic triangular design with
enclosed rectangle, often with spur lines along the base, is widely
disseminated over the North American continent. We found that this form
is common to the Pueblos, the Indians of the northwestern plateaus and
of the plains, and that the fundamental pattern may be recognized in
New England and Labrador. Patterns composed of lines, triangles and
rectangles are characteristic of the art of the North American Indian.
Notwithstanding their simplicity, these forms are practically confined
to North America. Their strong individuality proves that their present
distribution must be due to mutual influence among various North
American cultures. We cannot determine where the pattern originated but
it is quite certain that its present distribution is due to cultural
contact; its occurrence is probably related to the use of stiff
rawhide for receptacles, to the method of painting used by the Indians,
and to the old method of decorating with porcupine quill weaving and
embroidery. I have called attention to the difference in arrangement
of these patterns among a number of tribes and A. L. Kroeber, R. H.
Lowie, and Leslie Spier[97] have discussed these questions in greater
detail (fig. 151). The parallel stripe arrangement is characteristic of
the Arapaho; a central field surrounded by a square, of the northern
Shoshone. Owing to the close contact in which these two tribes live at
the present time, which favors intertribal trade, the distribution is
not quite so clear as it has probably been in earlier times.
[97] Leslie Spier, An Analysis of Plains Indian Parfleche Decoration,
University of Washington Publications in Anthropology, Vol. I, pp. 89
et seq. where the earlier literature has been quoted.
[Illustration: Fig. 151 _b_, _c_. Types of parfleche and pouch
painting, Shoshone.]
[Illustration: Fig. 152. Arapaho designs.]
[Illustration: Fig. 153. Sioux designs.]
Certain differences may also be observed in the arrangement of bead
embroidery the forms of which are very uniform over an extended area of
the western prairies. A characteristic form of this design consists of
a central diamond or rectangle, from the corners of which emanate lines
that terminate in triangles facing the central field either with the
apex or with the base; sometimes a crossbar with prongs is found at the
end of these lines. Among the Arapaho (fig. 152) these patterns appear
singly on a plain background; among the Sioux (fig. 153) the central
square is seldom used. While among the Arapaho the lines are usually
attached to only two opposite ends, the Sioux almost always attach them
to the four corners of the central diamond. Furthermore, the Sioux like
to vary the background by inserting stars or crosses and the design
seems to occur more frequently symmetrically doubled than among the
Arapaho.
Another good example of differentiation in arrangement and identity
of pattern elements is presented by the basketry of the Indians of
British Columbia. Among the Thompson Indians the design elements
are distributed evenly over the whole side of the basket; among the
Lillooet they are confined to the upper part of the side while the
lower part remains undecorated; among the Chicotin there are three
bands of decoration along the upper part of the basket (see p. 297).
As another case of the wide distribution of a design element, evidently
due to diffusion, we may mention the so-called quail tip ornament of
California which consists of a right angle with a thin upright stem and
a short heavy horizontal arm. This pattern is found commonly throughout
California and extends northward as far as the Sahaptin tribes of
Columbia River. It is particularly important to note that technically
the basket of the Sahaptin tribes belongs to the coiled and imbricated
type used by the Thompson Indians farther to the north; while in the
southern regions a multiplicity of methods of basket weaving are used.
In all of these the same quail tip occurs (see p. 109).
We have spoken so far of local styles as though in every case only a
single style occurred in a tribal unit. This might seem plausible on
account of the comparative uniformity of tribal life. Still there are
many cases in which fundamentally different styles may be observed in
the same community. I have referred several times to the realistic
carving and drawing of the Eskimos, which is often combined with very
characteristic but subordinate geometrical patterns, particularly
with the double line with alternating spurs, a series of “Y” shaped
figures, arranged on a continuous line; and circles and dots (see fig.
78, p. 86). In certain cases realistic forms are used for the purpose
of ornamentation. On some modern specimens from the west coast of
Hudson Bay, the representations of human beings or animals are found
(see fig. 51 _b_, p. 58). In Greenland wooden vessels are ornamented
by attached ivory carvings representing seals, which are nailed on to
the surface (fig. 121, p. 127). Pieces of skin in which needles are
kept, are ornamented with appliqué figures.[98] On the east coast of
Greenland similar decorative motives are in use.
[98] Kaj Birket-Smith, Ethnography of the Egedesminde District,
Meddelelser om Grønland, Vol. 66, (1924), pp. 522, 550.
The style of ornamenting cloth is quite different. There is no realism
and the formal patterns which are used are broad bands, accompanying
the borders of the garments and long lines of fringes. The basis of
this ornamentation is a feeling for color contrast and a tendency to
emphasize outlines. The representative tendency is entirely absent. In
a single specimen in which it appears as a representation of a human
hand, it looks strangely out of place.[99] This decorative type is
fully developed in Greenland where checker work is applied to garments,
buckets, and also to wooden goggles.
[99] Franz Boas, The Eskimo of Baffinland and Hudson Bay, Bulletin
American Museum of Natural History, Vol. 15, (1907), Plate 9.
I presume the principal cause for the difference of these styles is
found in the difference of the technical processes, but perhaps even
more in the circumstance that the realistic work is made by the men,
the clothing and sewed leather work by the women.
Two fundamentally distinct styles occur also among the Indians of
the North Pacific coast. I have referred a number of times to their
symbolic representations of animals with the curious disregard of
natural relations between the parts of the body. This style of art
is confined primarily to woodwork and to other industries allied to
woodwork. It occurs also in appliqué and in embroidery in porcupine
quill,—probably copied from painted designs,—so that it is practiced by
both men and women. It is, however, entirely absent in modern basketry
made for home use, and in matting. The decorative patterns in these
types of technique are always geometrical and bear no relation to the
art of carving. Only in the woven blankets of the Tlingit which are
copied by the women from pattern boards made by the men do we find the
typical symbolic style.
I might also refer to the contrast between the pictographic
representations of the Indians of the Plains and their ornamental art,
if it were not for the fact that their pictography never rises to the
dignity of an art.
The cases might be considerably increased in which a difference of
style is found in different types of technique, or in different parts
of the population. Birchbark baskets of the interior of British
Columbia have their own style of border decoration and their sides
are often covered with pictographic designs. Coiled baskets from the
same district have geometrical surface patterns. Central American
painted pottery differs in style from other types in which painting is
not used, but in which plastic ornamentation is applied. New Zealand
borders of woven mattings have geometric style and lack patterns that
might be considered derived from the elaborate spiral decoration that
characterizes Maori carving (Plate VIII).
Such differences in style are, however, not by any means the rule. As
has been stated before, we find much more commonly (p. 154) that the
most highly developed art is liable to impose its style upon other
industries and that mat weaving and basketry have been particularly
influential in developing new forms and powerful in imposing them upon
other fields.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.
Woven Blanket, New Zealand.]
ART OF THE NORTH PACIFIC COAST OF NORTH AMERICA[100]
[100] The present chapter is a revised edition of my essay, “The
Decorative Art of the Indians of the North Pacific Coast of America”
(Bulletin American Museum of Natural History, Vol. IX, pp. 123-176,
1897).
The general principles discussed in the preceding chapters, may now be
elucidated by a discussion of the style of the decorative art of the
Indians of the North Pacific Coast of North America.
Two styles may be distinguished: the man’s style expressed in the art
of wood carving and painting and their derivatives; and the woman’s
style which finds expression in weaving, basketry, and embroidery.
The two styles are fundamentally distinct. The former is symbolic, the
latter formal. The symbolic art has a certain degree of realism and
is full of meaning. The formal art has, at most, pattern names and no
especially marked significance.
We shall discuss the symbolic art first. Its essential characteristics
are an almost absolute disregard of the principles of perspective,
emphasis of significant symbols and an arrangement dictated by the form
of the decorative field.
While the Eskimo of Arctic America, the Chukchee and Koryak of Siberia,
the Negroes and many other people use carvings in the round which
serve no practical ends, but are made for the sake of representing a
figure,—man, animal, or supernatural being,—almost all the work of
the Indian artist of the region that we are considering serves at
the same time a useful end. When making simple totemic figures, the
artist is free to shape his subjects without adapting them to the
forms of utensils, but owing to their large size, he is limited by the
cylindrical form of the trunk of the tree from which they are carved.
The native artist is almost always restrained by the shape of the
object to which the decoration is applied.
[Illustration: Fig. 154. Tlingit helmet.]
[Illustration: Fig. 155. Mask representing dying warrior, Tlingit.]
The technical perfection of carvings and paintings, the exactness and
daring of composition and lines prove that realistic representations
are not beyond the powers of the artist. This may also be demonstrated
by a few exquisite examples of realistic carvings. The helmet shown
in fig. 154 is decorated with the head of an old man affected with
partial paralysis. Undoubtedly this specimen must be considered a
portrait head. Nose, eyes, mouth and the general expression, are highly
characteristic. In a mask (fig. 155) representing a dying warrior, the
artist has shown faithfully the wide lower jaw, the pentagonal face,
and the strong nose of the Indian. The relaxing muscles of mouth and
tongue, the drooping eyelids, and the motionless eyeballs, mark the
agonies of death. Plate IX represents a recent carving, a human figure
of rare excellence. Posture and drapery are free of all the formal
characteristics of North West coast style. Only the treatment of the
eye and the facial painting betray its ethnic origin. Here belongs
also the realistic head previously referred to, made by the Kwakiutl
Indians of Vancouver Island (fig. 156), which is used in a ceremony and
intended to deceive the spectators who are made to believe that it is
the head of a decapitated dancer.[101]
[101] The selection of North West Coast art given by Herbert Kühn
(Die Kunst der Primitiven, pp. 100, 104, Plates 48, 50, 51 are
characteristic only of realistic representations. Only Plates 47, 49
and part of 52 are stylistically typical).
[Illustration: PLATE IX.
Carved Figure, British Columbia.]
When the artist desires realistic truth he is quite able to attain it.
This is not often the case; generally the object of artistic work is
decorative and the representation follows the principles developed in
decorative art.
[Illustration: Fig. 156. Carved head used in ceremonial, Kwakiutl
Indians.]
When the form of the decorative field permits, the outline of the
animal form is retained. The size of the head is generally stressed as
against that of the body and of the limbs. Eyes and eyebrows, mouth and
nose are given great prominence. In almost all cases the eyebrows have
a standardized form, analogous to that in which the Indian likes to
trim his own eyebrows,—with a sharp edge on the rim of the orbits, and
a sharp angle in the upper border, the brows being widest at a point a
little outward from the center, tapering to the outer and inner angles
and ending quite abruptly at both ends. The eye is also standardized.
In many cases it consists of two outer curves which indicate the
borders of the upper and lower eyelids. A large inner circle represents
the eyeball. The lip lines are always distinct and border a mouth which
is given an extraordinary width. Generally the lips are opened wide
enough to show the teeth or the tongue. Cheeks and forehead are much
restricted in size. The trunk is not elaborated. The ears of animals
rise over the forehead (fig. 157). These are almost always applied in
reproductions of mammals and birds, while they are generally missing
in those of the whale, killer-whale, shark and often also of the
sculpin. The human ear is represented in its characteristic form, on a
level with the eye (figs. 207 and 209, pp. 217, 218). Whales and fish
often have round eyes, but exceptions occur (figs. 233, 234, 235, pp.
229-231).
For clear presentation of the principles of this art it seems
advantageous to treat the symbolism and the adjustment of the animal
form to the decorative field before taking up the purely formal
elements.
Fig. 157 _a_ is a figure from the model of a totem pole, which
represents the beaver. Its face is treated somewhat like a human face,
particularly the region around eyes and nose. The position of the
ears, however, indicates an animal head. The two large incisors serve
to identify the rodent par excellence,—the beaver. The tail is turned
up in front of the body. It is ornamented by cross-hatchings which
represent the scales on the beaver’s tail. In its forepaws it holds a
stick. The nose is short and forms a sharp angle with the forehead.
The nostrils are large and indicated by spirals. The large incisors,
the tail with cross-hatchings, the stick, and the form of the nose
are symbols of the beaver and the first two of these are sufficient
characteristics of the animal.
[Illustration: Fig. 157. Carvings representing the beaver from models
of Haida totem poles carved in slate.]
[Illustration: Fig. 158. Carving from handle of spoon representing
beaver, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 159. Headdress representing beaver; a dragon-fly is
shown on the chest of the beaver, Haida.]
Fig. 157 _b_ is another representation of a beaver from the model of a
totem pole. It resembles the former one in all details, except that the
stick is missing. The beaver is merely holding its three-toed forepaws
raised to the chin. In other carvings the beaver is shown with four or
five toes, but the symbols described here never vary.
On the handle of a spoon (fig. 158), the head and forepaws of the
beaver are shown; and in its mouth are indicated an upper pair of
incisors, all the other teeth being omitted. The scaly tail is shown
on the back of the spoon. The nose differs from the one previously
described only in the absence of the spiral development of the nostril.
Its form and size agree with the preceding specimens.
In the centre of the front of a dancing headdress (fig. 159), a beaver
is represented in squatting position. The symbols mentioned before
will be recognized here. The face is human, but the ears, which
rise over the forehead, indicate that an animal is meant. Two large
pairs of incisors occupy the center of the open mouth. The tail,
with cross-hatchings, is turned up in front of the body, and appears
between the two hind legs. The forepaws are raised to the height of
the mouth, but they do not hold a stick.[102] The nose is short, with
large round nostrils and turns abruptly into the forehead. On the
chest of the beaver another head is represented over which a number
of small rings stretch upward. This animal represents the dragon-fly,
which is symbolized by a large head and a slender segmented body.[103]
Its feet extend from the corners of its mouth towards the haunches of
the beaver. Its face resembles a human face; but the two ears, which
rise over the eyebrows, indicate that an animal is meant. In many
representations of the dragon-fly there are two pairs of wings attached
to the head. Combinations of two animals similar to the present one are
found frequently, as in figs. 165, 170 and 235.
[102] For additional representations of the beaver see figs. 216, 225,
228, 229, 230, 255, 283.
[103] See p. 192.
In a painting from a Kwakiutl house-front (fig. 160), which was made
for me by an Indian from Fort Rupert, the large head with the incisors
will be recognized. The scaly tail appears under the mouth. The broken
lines (1) around the eyes, indicate the hair of the beaver. The design
on each cheek (3) the bones of the face, the high point of the nose (2)
its sudden turn. The nostrils are large and round as in the specimens
described before. Under the corners of the mouth are the feet. The
meaning of the two ornaments over the head is doubtful.
[Illustration: Fig. 160. Painting for a house-front placed over the
door, representing the beaver, Kwakiutl Indians.]
[Illustration: Fig. 161. Halibut hook with design representing a
sculpin swallowing a fish, Tlingit.
Fig. 162. Part of a totem pole with design representing a sculpin,
Tsimshian.]
A carved halibut hook (fig. 161) is decorated with the design of the
sculpin. The symbols of the fish are fins and tail, those of the
sculpin, two spines rising over its mouth, and a joined dorsal fin. The
sculpin is represented swallowing a fish, the tail of which protrudes
from its mouth. The two spines appear immediately over the lips, their
points being between the two eyes which are represented by two circles
with small projections. The two pectoral fins are indicated over the
eyes. The joined dorsal fin extends from the eyes upward toward the
narrowest part of the body. The tail of the animal extends toward the
place where point and shank of the hook are bound together by means of
a strip of spruce root.
[Illustration: Fig. 163. Woolen legging with appliqué designs
representing sculpin, Haida.]
The same animal is represented in a slightly different way on the lower
portion of a totem pole (fig. 162). The lowest figure is probably the
sun, or perhaps a starfish. Its arms extend upward, and are held in
the mouth by a sculpin, standing head downward, back forward, and tail
extending upward. Two crescent-shaped ornaments above the corners of
the mouth represent the gills of the fish. Above these are the pectoral
fins. On the level of the pectoral fins towards the middle appear the
symbols of the sculpin, two spines, the lower portions of which are
decorated with small human faces. The round eyes are placed just under
the spines. The dorsal fin commences at the height of the eyes, and
merges into the tail which is clasped by a human figure cut in two by
the fish tail. This carving is also characterized by two symbols,——the
two spines and the joined dorsal fin.
On a legging made of blue cloth (fig. 163) the sculpin is shown in red
cloth appliqué. Its teeth, eyes, and dorsal fin are represented by
buttons of abalone shell. Two small triangles cut out to the right and
left of the mouth represent the gills. Immediately over the eyes, and
extending toward the middle of the back, are the two spines, indicated
by two slender triangular pieces of red cloth cut out in their middle
parts. The pectoral fins are indicated by two broader pieces of red
cloth extending from the eyes outward and upward toward the margin of
the body of the fish, the dorsal fin by the long slits along the back
of the animal. The species is characterized by the two spines which
appear over the eyes.[104]
[104] For additional representations of the sculpin see figs. 206, 219,
224, 262.
In facial paintings the sculpin is generally indicated by the two
spines which are painted just over the lips (fig. 164).
Figs. 165-168 represent the hawk which is symbolized by an enormous
hooked beak, curved backward so that its slender point touches the
chin. In many cases the face of the bird is that of a human being, the
nose being given the shape of the symbol of the hawk. It is extended in
the form of a beak, and drawn back into the mouth, or merged into the
face below the lower lip.
On the headdress, fig. 165, the upper, larger face is that of the hawk.
The face in human; but the ears, which rise over the forehead, indicate
that an animal is meant. The body is small, and is hidden behind the
face of a sea-monster with bear’s head and flippers. The wings of the
hawk are grasped by the arms of the sea-monster whose flippers may be
seen over the arms.
Fig. 166 is the handle of a spoon on which is represented the head of a
hawk, symbolized by its beak. The top of the spoon represents a man who
is holding a small animal with a segmented body, which may represent
the dragon-fly, although the head seems rather smaller than usual.[105]
[105] See also figs. 207, 243, 257.
In figs. 167 and 168 the same symbols of the hawk will be recognized.
It is worth remarking that in most of these specimens the mouth is
entirely separated from the beak and has the form of the toothed mouth
of a mammal. A characteristic form of the hawk’s beak is shown in the
facial painting fig. 169.
[Illustration: Fig. 164. Facial painting representing the sculpin,
Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 165. Headdress representing a hawk, Tsimshian.]
[Illustration: Fig. 166. Handle of a spoon made of mountain-goat horn;
lowest figure representing a hawk; upper figure representing a man
holding a dragon-fly, probably Tsimshian.]
[Illustration: Fig. 167. Rattle with design of a hawk, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 168. Dish made of horn of big-horn-sheep, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 169. Facial painting representing hawk, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 170. Headdress representing an eagle bearing a frog
on its chest, Tsimshian.]
Fig. 170, the front of a headdress representing the eagle, is quite
similar to the forms of preceding series; but it differs from them in
that the beak of the bird is not turned back so as to touch the face,
but ends in a sharp point extending downward, and that there is no
mammal mouth indicated. The wings of the eagle are shown extending from
the border of its body inward. The shoulder joint is indicated by the
head of a human figure which is ornamentally carved on the wings. The
feet are seen at the sides of the lower border of the carving, under
the wings. On the body of the eagle is a rather realistic carving of a
toad. An eagle is also shown on top of the Haida house post (fig. 171).
The wings are turned in in front of the body and the curves of the
lower figures fit into the curved side.[106]
[106] See also fig. 215.
[Illustration: Fig. 171. Housepost representing eagle above, cormorant
below, Haida.]
In figs. 172 and 173 I give two representations of the hawk (or fish
hawk) made by the Kwakiutl. The treatment is different from that of the
Haida, but the sharply curved beak is found here also. On the paddle
(fig. 172), (1) represents the eyebrow and ear, (2) the cheek, (3) the
wing, (4) the beak. Fig. 173 is taken from a painting on a settee. On
the back is shown a man with ears (4) over the head, like those of the
Haida animals. (1) is the navel, (2) the wrinkles running down from
the nose to the corners of the mouth, (3) is painting on the cheeks.
The head of the hawk is placed on each side of the human figure. On
the lower border of the settee is the lower jaw (5), over the eyes the
feathers on the head (6), the eye next to the head on the side wing of
the settee, is the shoulder joint. The bone of the wing is shown in
(7), the long wing feather in (8), the feathers of the body in (9).
[Illustration: Fig. 172. Painting on paddle representing hawk,
Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 173. Painting on back and one end of a settee
representing man and hawk, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 174. Handle of spoon of mountain-goat horn
representing dragon-fly.]
[Illustration: Fig. 175. Berry spoon with engraving representing
dragon-fly.]
The dragon-fly is represented with a large head, a long segmented body
and two pairs of wings. The representation on the headdress, fig. 159,
has been referred to before. The head is human but provided with animal
ears. It has also been mentioned that the animal with segmented body
in fig. 166 may be a dragon-fly, although it is lacking the wings.
According to Edensaw, the spoon handle (fig. 174) also represents the
dragon-fly. It has a strongly curved beak; wings are placed under
the lower jaw and the segmented body forms the tip of the handle. A
particularly good representation of a dragon-fly is found on the Haida
berry spoon[107] (fig. 175). Attention should be called to the spiral
proboscis on this specimen.
[107] These flat, wooden spoons are used for eating soapberries which
are beaten to a foam.
The most important characteristic of the killer-whale as represented
by the Haida is the long dorsal fin,—often with white circle or white
stripe in the middle, and a face or eye indicating a joint at the base.
The head is elongated, the mouth long and square in front. The nostril
is large, high, and at the same time elongated. The distance from the
mouth to the eyebrow is long and on totem poles and spoon handles
the head is always so placed that the long snout points downward.
When seen in profile the front of the face is square on account of
the forward extension of the nose over the front part of the mouth.
The eye is generally round but sometimes surrounded by elongated lid
lines with sharp inner and outer corners. Sometimes the blow-hole is
shown by a circular spot over the forehead. In fig. 176 are shown a
few representations of the killer-whale as found on handles of spoons
made of mountain-goat horn. In (_a_) and (_b_) the dorsal fin rises
immediately over the head of the animal. The inverted face in (_b_)
probably represents the blow-hole. In (_a_) and (_c_) the fins are
folded forward; in the latter specimen the tail is turned up in front
on the body. On the rattle (fig. 177) the characteristic large head
with steep face appears. The mouth is set with large teeth; the eye is
round. In front of the dorsal fin is a blow-hole. The Haida float (fig.
178) is abnormal in so far as it has a very small dorsal fin (see also
fig. 182 _d_).
[Illustration: Fig. 176. _a_-_e_ Carvings from handles of spoons of
mountain-goat horn representing killer-whale, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 177. Rattle representing killer-whale, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 178. Wooden float representing killer-whale, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 179. Masks and dishes representing the
killer-whale, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 180. Helmet representing the killer-whale, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 181. Carvings from the handles of spoons of
mountain-goat horn representing the bear.]
A number of Kwakiutl masks and dishes representing the killer-whale are
shown in fig. 179. Although there are some differences in the treatment
of the animal, the main features are common to both tribes. All these
specimens, except _h_, have the dorsal fin; the last named specimen
shows the head only. The long, high nose is found in all except in _c_,
_d_, _e_. The high, steep face is common to all of them. Fig. _e_, a
large house dish,[108] is said to represent the They are emblems of
the family of the houseowner.] whale. It will be noticed that _b_,
_c_, _d_ have round eyes while in _a_ and _h_ the regular oblong eye
is used. In _e_ and _g_ the fundamental form of the eye is also round.
Fig. 180 is a Tlingit helmet which is characterized as the killer-whale
by the large mouth set with teeth, the sudden turn of the nose towards
the forehead, the fin made of hide which rises over the crown of the
head, and the fin which is painted on the left cheek. Ordinarily the
killer-whale has no ears. In facial painting red under and on the lower
jaw up to a line running from the angle of the jaw to a point a little
below the lips, represents the throat of the killer-whale.
[108] These dishes are used in great feasts. Some of them are of
enormous size.
The bear is symbolized by a large mouth set with many teeth, often in
the act of swallowing some animal. Very often the tongue protrudes.
The nostrils are high and round, sometimes represented by spirals (see
also figs. 157, 175). On totem poles and carved spoon handles they are
similar to those of the killer-whale but do not extend quite so far
backward. There is a sharp turn in the profile from the nose to the
forehead. The paws are large (fig. 181).
[Illustration: Fig. 182. Berry spoons representing bear; _a_, _b_,
Tsimshian; _c_, Tlingit; _d_, representing killer-whale.]
In fig. 182 three berry spoons are shown which, according to Charles
Edensaw, represent the bear. Fig. 182 _a_ is quite clear. At the end
of the spoon is shown the head with an enormous ear (1), the size of
which is determined by the form of the spoon. Two teeth are indicated
by red curves (2). Under the mouth is a broad black curve, the
foreleg (3), and to the right of it (4) the fore-paw. The lowest part
represents the hindlegs. Fig. 182 _b_ is not so clear. The face in the
middle is the hip joint, under it, to the right, the thigh, to the left
the paw with long claws. Edensaw considered the design over the hip
joint as the tail, the end as the head, but I doubt the correctness
of this interpretation. The end of the spoon looks more like the head
of a sea-monster and the design over the hip joint like the fin. Fig.
182 _c_ was also called a bear by the same informant, while 182 _d_
was called a killer-whale. I place these side by side, because the
formal agreement of the lower part is striking. The right half of the
base of 182 _c_ has the characteristic form of the dorsal fin of the
killer-whale and corresponds to an analagous design in fig. 182 _d_.
In both cases the inverted eye above the “fin” would be the joint. The
rest of the design consists of eye and flipper elements that are not
readily recognized. In 182 _d_ the flat curves in the middle may be the
body; in front to the left the fin, and over it eye and mouth. In 182
_c_ the elements are still less clear. According to Edensaw there is no
head, only a tail at the upper end of the spoon.
There are quite a number of representations of the sea-monster,
the form of which is partly that of a bear and partly that of a
killer-whale. In a number of cases the monster has a bear’s head (fig.
183) and body, but fins are attached to the elbows. In other cases the
head is that of a killer-whale and the body that of a bear. In this
form it appears on many horn spoon handles (fig. 184). In still other
cases the characteristics of bear and killer-whale are intermingled in
other ways.
The frog is characterized by a wide toothless mouth, a flat nose, and
lack of a tail.
The following series (figs. 185-188) are representations of the
dogfish or shark. When the whole body of this animal is represented,
it is characterized by a heterocerc tail, a large mouth, the corners
of which are drawn downward, a series of curved lines on each cheek
which represent the gills, and a high tapering forehead imitating the
inferior position of the mouth. It is often decorated with two circles
(the nostrils), and a series of curved lines (wrinkles) similar to the
gill lines on the cheeks.
[Illustration: Fig. 183. Carving representing a sea-monster, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 184. Carvings from handles of spoons made of
mountain-goat horn representing a sea-monster.]
[Illustration: Fig. 185. Part of totem pole carved in slate
representing shark surmounted by an eagle, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 186. Handle of a dagger representing the head of a
shark, Tlingit.]
Fig. 185 represents a shark devouring a halibut, from the upper part
of a totem pole. The head has the characteristic symbols, to which
are added here the numerous sharp teeth that are found often, but
not regularly, as symbols of the shark. The greater part of the body
has been omitted, since the animal is sufficiently identified by the
symbols found on the head; but under the chin will be noticed the two
pectoral fins which identify it as a fish.
Fig. 186 is the handle of a copper dagger on which the mouth with
depressed corners, the curved lines on the cheeks, and the ornament
rising over the forehead, characterize the shark.
[Illustration: Fig. 187. Wooden pipe representing a shark, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 188. Tattooing representing a shark, Haida.]
A small pipe (fig. 187) has the form of a shark. The square end at
the right hand side is the face of the animal (fig. 187). Eyes and
mouth are inlaid with abalone shell. On account of the narrowness of
the face, the three curved lines generally found on the cheeks are
placed under the mouth. The forehead has the characteristic high form
described before. The opposite end of the pipe shows the tail turned
upward. On the sides are carved the pectoral fins, which extend over
the body of the pipe.
Fig. 188 is a copy of a tattooing on the back of a Haida woman. Here we
have only the outline of the head of a shark, again characterized by
the peculiar, high forehead, the depressed corners of the mouth, and
curved lines on each cheek.
The shark[109] (or dogfish) is found frequently on Haida carvings and
paintings. It is rare among the southern tribes.
[109] See also figs. 213, 214, 217, 232, 233, 261.
The ts’um’os, the personified snag, is represented in a form similar
to the bear. According to Edensaw the form of the head is analogous to
that of the bear but the corners of the mouth are drawn down like those
of the dog-fish (fig. 189). This is contradicted by the representation
of a third snag monster, in which the mouth is square like that of the
bear. The region behind the mouth has, however, the characteristic
curvature demanded by Edensaw. The fins of this being correspond to the
concept of the sea-monster.
[Illustration: Fig. 189. Handles of spoons representing sea-monster,
Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 190. Handles of spoons made of mountain-goat
representing snail, Tlingit.]
In fig. 190 are represented two spoon handles, representing, according
to Edensaw, the snail. The characteristic feature seems to be the
long snout with its sudden, angular turn. The conventional concept of
the animal form with eye and nose is strikingly brought out in this
instance.
Let us briefly recapitulate what we have thus far tried to show.
Animals are characterized by their symbols, and the following series of
symbols has been described in the preceding remarks:
1. Of the _beaver_: large incisors; large, round nose; scaly tail; and
a stick held in the fore paws.
2. Of the _sculpin_: two spines rising over the mouth, and a continuous
dorsal fin.
3. Of the _hawk_: large, curved beak the point of which is turned
backward so that it touches the face.
4. Of the _eagle_: large, curved beak, the point of which is turned
downward.
5. Of the _killer-whale_: large, long head; elongated large nostrils;
round eye; large mouth set with teeth; blow-hole; and large dorsal fin.
6. Of the _shark_ or _dogfish_: an elongated rounded cone rising over
the forehead; mouth with depressed corners; a series of curved lines
on the cheeks representing gills; two circles and curved lines on the
ornament rising over the forehead representing nostrils and wrinkles;
round eyes; numerous sharp teeth; and heterocerc tail.
7. Of the _bear_: large paws; and large mouth set with teeth;
protruding tongue; large, round nose; and sudden turn from snout to
forehead.
8. Of the _sea-monster_: bear’s head; bear’s paws with flippers
attached; and gills and body of the killer-whale, with several dorsal
fins; or other mixtures of bear and killer-whale type.
9. Of the _dragon-fly_: large head; segmented, slender body; and wings.
10. Of the _frog_: wide, toothless mouth; flat nose; and lack of tail.
11. Of the personified _snag_: like a bear with mouth depressed at the
corners like that of the dogfish.
12. Of the _snail_: long snout with sudden downward turn.[110]
[110] See also characterization of wolf, p. 207.
I have had occasion to examine the Kwakiutl in greater detail in regard
to the symbols used in designating certain animals. One artist gave
me a series of eye patterns together with the adjoining parts of the
face and explained in what way each is characteristic of the animal in
question. These are shown in figs. 191 and 192.
[Illustration: Fig. 191. Types of eyes of various animals, Kwakiutl;
_a_, sea bear; _b_, grizzly bear; _c_, beaver; _d_, wolf; _e_, eagle;
_f_ raven; _g_, killer-whale.]
The grizzly bear of the sea (_a_) has a large eye, the form of which
is not definitely determined, a very large, round nostril, large teeth
and a large ear. The grizzly bear (_b_) has a round eye with white
rim, smaller than that of the grizzly bear of the sea. The nose is
not round, but high, the teeth large but smaller than those of the
grizzly bear of the sea. The ear is small and pointed. The beaver (_c_)
has, besides the large incisors, a high, round nose and a very small
ear. The wolf (_d_) has a slanting, long eye; the ear is laid down
backward; he has many teeth. The eye of the eagle (_e_) has a white
crescent behind the eyeball, the nostril is slanting and placed high
up on the beak. The eye of the raven (_f_) is white in the center.
The killer-whale (_g_) has a very large eyebrow, a long eye and face,
long nose and a long mouth with many teeth. The whale (fig. 192 _a_)
has a round eye and nose. The sea lion (_b_) has a round nose, large
teeth, the eye near to the nose and a small ear. The frog (_c_) has
an elongated eye, flat mouth and flat nose. The fabulous double-headed
serpent (_d_) has a small eye like that of the wolf, a spiral nose and
a spiral plume. The eyes of a man, of the woodman, and of the seaspirit
who gives wealth, are shown in _e_, _f_, and _g_.
[Illustration: Fig. 192. Types of eyes of various beings, Kwakiutl,
_a_, whale; _b_, sea lion; _c_, frog; _d_, double-headed serpent; _e_,
man; _f_ merman; _g_, spirit of the sea.]
The Kwakiutl also claim as the standard for the bird’s tail, a
joint with a single eye, although sometimes there may be two
eyeballs enclosed in one eye. The rounded feathers (fig. 193) are
also characteristics of the bird’s tail. The tail of the whale,
killer-whale, and porpoise, on the other hand, has two joints and the
flukes have double curvatures on the inner side.
The Kwakiutl also claim a definite distinction between the designs
representing wing feathers and those representing fins, (fig. 194). The
wing feathers should be pointed; the fin, on the other hand, has no
point and is cut off square.
In figs. 195 and 196 are represented the characteristic elements of
the halibut and of the wolf. These elements are supposed to be used
by the Kwakiutl in the representation of these animals, selected
according to the requirements of the decorative field. In the figures
here reproduced they are given without any reference to the decorative
field. Fig. 195 represents the halibut; (1) the mouth and over it the
nose, (2) the eyes, (3) the bone of the top of the head and (4) the
side of the head. In (5) are shown the gills; (6) and (8) represent
the intestinal tract, and (7) is the part of the intestinal tract just
under the neck; (9) is the collar bone, (10) the lateral fin, the bones
of which are shown in (11). (12) is the clotted blood that is found in
the dead halibut under the vertebral column; (13) represents the joint
of the tail, (14) part of the bone in the tail, and (15) the tip of the
tail.
[Illustration: Fig. 193. Styles of tails, Kwakiutl; above bird; below
sea mammals.]
[Illustration: Fig. 194. Styles of wing designs and of fin designs,
Kwakiutl; above, fin; below, wing.]
[Illustration: Fig. 195. Elements used in representing the halibut,
Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 196. Elements used in representing the wolf,
Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 196 represents, in the same way, the wolf. The head with the
elevated nose is easily recognized. (1) represents the throat. (2) The
humerus connected with the forearm is shown in the lower left hand
side of the pattern; (3) represents the collarbone, the four circles
(4) the backbone, (5) the back with hair. The three thin slanting lines
(6) are the ribs, (7) the sternum and the hooks over it the intestinal
tract, (9) is the hind leg, corresponding to (2), (10) the toes, (11)
the foot, (12) connects the backbone with the tail. The thin lines (13)
represent the hair of the tail, (14) is supposed to be a second joint
in the tail, (15) the hairy tail, and (16) the ears.
[Illustration: Fig. 197. Painting from bow of a canoe, representing the
wolf.]
Fig. 197 represents the wolf, a painting from the bow of a canoe. Here
again the elevated nose of the wolf will be recognized. The hachure
(1) represents the pelvis, (2) and (3) the intestinal tract, (4) the
humerus, (5) the cheek, (6) the facial bones, and (7) the ear.
[Illustration: Fig. 198. Masks and dishes representing the wolf,
Kwakiutl.]
An examination of carved and painted specimens shows clearly that this
description of symbols is theoretical rather than rigidly normative,
for in many cases considerable freedom in their use may be observed.
An example of this kind is presented by the wolf masks used by the
Kwakiutl in the dance “Brought-Down-From-Above”[111] (fig. 198). Most
of these have the slanting eye and pointed ears. In one specimen,
however, the ear is pointed forward. The snout slants backward, the
nose is high. The identity of treatment of the specimen shown in figs.
_d_ and _f_ is interesting. The former was collected by Captain Adrian
Jacobsen, 1884, and the latter by Captain Cook more than a hundred
years earlier. The double mask, fig. _a_, resembles them in general
shape, but the eye is treated quite differently and the ear, while
narrow, is not pointed and the backward slant of the snout is not
sufficiently pronounced. The double-headed wolf dish (_e_), has small
reclining ears and long eyes. The ears of figs. _c_, _d_, _e_, are
small and recline, but the eye of _c_ and _d_ is rounded.
[111] See Social Organization and Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl
Indians, Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1895, p.
477, illustrations p. 493, Plate 37.
The forms of animals used by the northern tribes vary considerably
also. It is not safe to base our arguments on models or on objects made
for the trade. I shall use, therefore, exclusively, older specimens
which have been in use.
[Illustration: Fig. 199. House post, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 200. Designs from a set of gambling sticks.]
[Illustration: Fig. 201. Designs from a set of gambling sticks.]
Swanton[112] gives two interpretations of the Haida house post fig.
199. He had two informants; both explained the top figure as an eagle
but they differed as to the meaning of the rest. The one claimed that
the lower part of the pole represented the story of a woman being
carried away by a killer-whale. The woman’s face shows just below the
eagle’s beak, and the whale’s blow-hole is represented by a small face
above the face of the killer-whale. The second informant, however,
explained the large face at the bottom as that of a grizzly bear,
presumably meaning thereby, the sea grizzly bear; and the small figure
over it as the “sea ghost” which usually rides upon its back. The
woman’s face he left unexplained. From an objective point of view, the
face at the base of the pole appears as a grizzly bear’s face. Attached
to it on each side are the ears and above these, the flippers. Just
under the talons of the eagle is found the inverted tail of a fish or
aquatic mammal, which presumably belongs to the figure at the bottom,
although it seems rather small. It seems doubtful whether the upper
face, to which belong the two hands just under it and the legs, in
squatting position below the tail, is that of a woman because there
ought to be a large labret in the lower lip. Furthermore, the face has
animal ears so that it does not seem likely that the intention of the
artist was to represent a woman.
[112] John R. Swanton, The Haida, Publications of the Jesup North
Pacific Expedition, Vol. V, p. 128.
It is true that in some other cases in which this same story is
represented,[113] the person sitting on the back of the killer-whale
has no labret, while in other cases it is shown. Obviously in this case
the symbolism is not clear enough to enable an Indian who does not
know the artist or who does not know the meaning of the carving, to
interpret it correctly.
[113] See Swanton, The Haida, pl. 15, fig. 1, where the woman is shown
without labret while in the specimen pl. 14, fig. 5, she wears a large
labret.
The uncertainty of interpretation becomes the greater the more
fragmentary the figure. A set of gambling sticks which in 1897 I
submitted to the best carver and painter (Charles Edensaw) among the
Haida, could not be satisfactorily interpreted by him (figs. 200, 201).
For example: Number 35 he recognized as a series of three dorsal fins
without being able to tell to what animal they belonged. Number 36 he
explained as a shoulder on the right, and a tail on the left, but he
was unable to identify the particular animal. Number 37 he explained,
hesitatingly, as a mosquito. For the following group he felt quite
unable to give any satisfactory explanation.
The uncertainty of explanation appears particularly clearly in the
interpretation of Chilkat blankets. I give here a few examples
according to Lieutenant George T. Emmons.[114]
[114] George T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket, Memoirs of the American
Museum of Natural History, Vol. 3. Part 4, N. Y. 1907, pp. 352, 369,
372, 377, and 387.
The blanket shown in fig. 202 represents a bear with young. The large
central figure represents the male bear; the two inverted eyes in the
middle of the lower border, with the adjoining elongated designs with
round tips, the hind quarters of the bear and the legs; the three heads
in the middle of the upper margin, the female and the young bears.
The central head in the middle of the upper margin was also explained
as the forehead of the bear. The lateral panels represent each a
young bear. The design along the lower border of the lateral panel is
the freshwater stream on which the bear lives. According to John R.
Swanton the blanket represents the sea grizzly bear. The explanation
of the principal parts is the same as that given by Lieutenant Emmons,
except that the three heads in the middle along the upper border were
explained, the middle one as the top of the head, the lateral ones as
ears. The wing designs which extend sideways from the border, cutting
into the middle parts of the lateral panels, were explained as part of
the forelegs, representing, probably, the fins which are believed to be
attached to the arms of the sea grizzly bear. The two inverted eyes in
the lower border, with the ornaments attached to the right and left of
the eyes, were said to represent the hind legs.
[Illustration: Fig. 202. Chilkat blanket.]
[Illustration: Fig. 203. Chilkat blanket.]
The blanket shown in figure 203 represents, according to Emmons, a
female wolf and young. The body of the wolf is given the form of a
hawk; the two eyes and the wing designs between them, near the lower
border of the blanket, being the face of the hawk. The double feather
design over these eyes represents the hawk’s ears. The face in the
center of the lower border of the blanket represents the body, the
wing feather designs extending downward under the corners of the jaws
of the wolf, the wings of the hawk. In the lateral panels the young
wolf is shown sitting up. These designs represent probably at the same
time, the sides and back of the wolf’s body. According to Swanton the
blanket represents a young raven. The body of the raven is occupied
by two profiles of ravens, represented by the two large eyes near the
lower border of the blanket. The face in the centre of the lower border
is the raven’s tail. The lateral wing designs extending downward from
under the corners of the jaws of the large head, are the wings of the
raven. The lateral panels represent two young ravens in profile.
[Illustration: Fig. 204. Chilkat blanket.]
The blanket shown in fig. 204 shows, according to Emmons, on top, a
brown bear sitting up. On the body of the bear is a raven’s head. The
hind-quarters are treated like a whale’s head. The eyes being at the
same time the hip joints, the mouth the feet of the bear. He was given
another explanation: the principal figure being explained as a whale,
the head of which is below. The body, which is turned up, is treated as
a raven’s head, and the tail as a bear’s head. The side panels are the
sides and the back of these animals, but represent at the same time,
an eagle in profile on top, and a raven in profile below. According to
Swanton the design represents a halibut. The head is below. The whole
large middle face represents the body; and the large face nearer the
upper border, the tail. The wing designs in the lateral panels, next
to the lowest head, are the small pectoral fins and the rest of the
lateral fields, the continuous border fin.
[Illustration: Fig. 205. Chilkat blanket.]
The blanket in Fig. 103 (p. 108) represents, according to Emmons, a
diving whale and the lateral fields a raven sitting. The head, with
nostrils and mouth, is shown below. The central face represents the
body. The eyes near the upper border are the flukes of the tail. The
face designs at the sides of the body represent the fins. In the
lateral panels is shown a raven sitting. According to Swanton the same
blanket represents a wolf with young. The head is shown below. The hind
legs and hip joints are represented by two large eyes and the adjoining
ornaments along the upper border, the two dark segments just over the
eye, being the feet. The face in the middle of the design represents,
as usual, the body of the animal. The small eye design, with adjoining
ear and wing feather designs, in the middle on each side of the body,
are interpreted as foreleg and foot. The lateral panels are explained
as representing each a young wolf sitting.
There are also considerable discrepancies in the explanation of
the blanket shown in fig. 205. According to Emmons it represents a
killer-whale. In each lower corner is one half of the head with teeth;
right in front of the teeth, the nostril; between the two halves of
the head, in the lower border of the blanket, the tail. The inverted
face in the middle of the upper border, represents the body. The
large square designs containing the goggle design, on each side, are
interpreted as water blown out from the blow-hole. One half of the
dorsal fin is indicated by a small round wing feather design in each
upper corner, the human face in profile under it, representing one
half of the blow-hole. According to Swanton a spirit of the sea is
represented. One half of the head is shown in each lower corner, the
eye design in front of the tongue being interpreted as chin. The two
faces in the middle of the lower border are explained as the young
ones of this sea spirit; the flicker-feather designs over them, as the
inner part of the body of the old animal; the inverted large face in
the middle of the upper border, as its hat; the large square designs on
each side of this face, containing the goggle designs, as the dorsal
fin; the two human faces in profile near the upper corners, the young
ones whose bodies are shown by the round feather design over the face.
Still another explanation of the same pattern was given to me. In each
lower corner is shown one half of the head of a killer-whale. Its food
is represented by the eye design in front of the mouth. The tail is
below in the middle; the two halves of the dorsal fin are just over the
tail; the inverted face in the middle of the upper border is the chest;
the adjoining square designs and the attached round feather design
are the flippers. Accordingly the profile faces near the upper, outer
corners should be the blow-holes.
[Illustration: Fig. 206. Model of totem pole with three figures
representing, from below upward; sculpin, dog-fish, and sea-monster;
Haida.]
These examples show clearly that there is ample room for the fancy of
the interpreter. The symbols lend themselves to various explanations,
which are presumably selected in accordance with totemic affiliations
of the owner. Not all of them seem quite consistent with the best
northwest coast usage; for instance, Swanton’s explanation of the last
named blanket seems doubtful on account of the inverted position of the
hat and the explanation of a single wing design as a body.
So far I have considered the symbols only in connection with their use
in representing various animals. It now becomes necessary to inquire in
what manner they are used to identify the animals. We have seen that
in a number of the preceding cases entire animals were represented,
and that they were identified by means of these symbols. However, the
artist is allowed wide latitude in the selection of the form of the
animal. Whatever its form may be, as long as the recognized symbols are
present, its identity is established. We have mentioned before that the
symbols are often applied to human faces, while the body of the figure
has the characteristics of the animal.
We find this principle applied on the totem pole, fig. 206. Each of
the three animals represented has a human face, to which are added
characteristic symbols. In the top figure the ears indicate an animal;
the arms, to which flippers are attached, the sea-monster (see fig.
183). The next figure below represents the shark. Originally a large
lip with a labret was attached to it. This would indicate that a female
shark is represented. Its symbols are the peculiar high snout which
rises over its forehead, and the fins, which are placed under the chin.
The body of the lowest figure which is shown under the face represents
a fish; and the two large spines which rise over the eyebrows specify
the sculpin.
In many cases the bodies of the animals are not represented and the
essential symbols are applied to a purely human face. This style is
found on masks and in facial paintings.
[Illustration: Fig. 207. Mask representing the hawk, Tlingit.]
Fig. 207 has a human face with human ears. Only the nose indicates that
the mask is not intended to represent a human being. It is strongly
curved, and drawn back into the mouth, thus symbolizing the hawk.
[Illustration: Fig. 208. Mask with painting symbolizing the flicker,
Tlingit.]
In fig. 208 we see the face of a woman with a moderately large labret.
The ears, as explained before, are those of an animal. The nose, which
has been lost, had undoubtedly the form of a bird’s beak. Thus the face
was characterized as that of a bird. It was specified partly by the
form of the beak, but principally by the ornaments painted in red and
black on the cheeks and forehead. These represent the feathers of the
red-winged flicker.
[Illustration: Fig. 209. Mask with eyebrows symbolizing the squid,
Tlingit.]
A small mask representing a human face (fig. 209) has, in place of the
eyebrows, two rows of circles, the sucking-cups of the squid. By means
of this symbol the face is recognized as that of the squid.
[Illustration: Fig. 210. Mask with painting symbolizing the
killer-whale, Tlingit.]
In the same manner the mask fig. 210 is identified as the killer-whale
by the two black ornaments painted on the left cheek and extending down
to the chin. They represent the dorsal fin of the killer-whale.
These symbols are also used as facial paintings and body paintings
by dancers, who are thus recognized as personifying the animal in
question, or as belonging to the social group with which the animals
are associated (see figs. 264, 265, pp. 250, 251). Sometimes these
symbols are attached to the garments. To this class belongs the
ornament (fig. 212), which represents the dorsal fin of a killer-whale
and which is worn attached to the back part of the blanket.
Having thus become acquainted with a few of the symbols of animals,
we will next investigate in what manner the native artist adapts the
animal form to the object he intends to decorate. First of all, we
will direct our attention to a series of specimens which show that he
endeavors, whenever possible, to represent the whole animal on the
object that he desires to decorate.
[Illustration: Fig. 211. Wood carving representing the killer-whale,
Tlingit.]
Fig. 211 is a club used for killing seals and halibut before they
are landed in the canoe. The carving represents the killer-whale.
The dorsal fin, the principal symbol of the killer-whale, cannot be
omitted. If placed in an upright position on the club, the implement
would assume an awkward shape. Therefore the artist bent it down along
the side of the body, so that it covers the flipper. The tail of the
whale would have interfered with the handle, and has been turned
forward and lies flat over the back.
The distortion of the body has been carried still further in the handle
of a spoon (fig. 176 _a_, p. 195) which represents the same animal. The
large head of the whale, to which the flippers are attached is near
the bowl of the spoon. The body has been twisted backward so that it
is completely doubled up. Therefore, the surface pattern of the tail
is carved on the back of the spoon, and the two projections just below
the mouth are the two tips of the whale’s tail. The dorsal fin extends
upward from the head of the whale, between the legs of the man who
forms the tip of the handle.
[Illustration: Fig. 212. Wood carving representing dorsal fin of the
killer-whale, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 213. Model of a totem pole representing a shark,
Haida.]
Fig. 213 is a small totem pole representing the shark. The tip of its
tail forms the top of the pole, while the face is placed at its lower
end. Since most of the symbols of the shark are found on its face, it
was necessary to bring the face into such a position as to be seen in
front view, but the artist also desired to show the back of the fish.
For this reason the head has been twisted around entirely, so that it
appears in front view over the back of the fish. The flippers are made
visible by having been pushed backward far beyond the place to which
they properly belong.
[Illustration: Fig. 214.
Speaker’s staff representing a shark, Tlingit.]
The speaker’s staff (fig. 214), which also represents the shark, has
been distorted in the same manner; but here the head has been turned
round entirely, so that it faces the back of the fish. The pectoral
fins are shown below the chin.
[Illustration: Fig. 215. Berry Spoon with design representing the
eagle.]
On the berry spoon (fig. 215) is an eagle whose head which is turned
back completely. The small wing occupies the field under the head. The
upper margin with geometrical decoration represents the body under
which the hip joint, leg and feet are shown.
The changes of position and of the relative sizes of parts of the body,
which result from such adaptations to the form of the object to be
decorated, are still more far-reaching in the following specimens.
[Illustration: Fig. 216. Halibut hook representing a beaver, Tlingit.]
On a halibut hook (fig. 216) carved with a design of the beaver, the
two incisors, the symbols of the beaver, have been moved to the same
side of the mouth. In reality only one of the incisors is visible in
profile, but being important symbols, both are shown.
[Illustration: Fig. 217. Part of totem pole representing a shark,
Haida.]
Fig. 217 is a shark represented on the top of a totem pole. The head of
the animal is shown in the form of a human face with the characteristic
symbols. Under the chin are two flippers. The body must be considered
turned upward; but it has been shortened so much that only the tail
remains, which rises immediately above the face.
[Illustration: Fig. 218. Dancing-hat representing a killer-whale,
Tsimshian.]
On a wooden dancing-hat (fig. 218) the symbols of the killer-whale
are attached to its head. Since the whole body has been omitted, the
dorsal fin, the essential symbol, has been moved from the back to the
head, and the flippers are attached to the head behind the eyebrows.
In all these cases the artist has taken great liberties with the form
of the animal body, and has treated it so that the symbols become
clearly visible. On the whole, he endeavors to represent the whole
animal. When this is not possible, all its essential parts are shown.
The insignificant parts are often omitted.
Far-reaching distortions result from the adjustment of the animal
body to the decorative field and from the necessity of preserving its
symbols.
[Illustration: Fig. 219. Wooden hat with carving representing the
sculpin.]
Fig. 219 is the top view of a wooden hat on which is carved the figure
of a sculpin. The animal is shown in top view, as though it were lying
with its lower side on the hat. The dancing-hats of these Indians have
the forms of truncated cones. To the top are attached a series of
rings, mostly made of basketry, which indicate the social rank of the
owner, each ring symbolizing a step in the social ladder. The top of
the hat, therefore, does not belong to the decorative field, which is
confined to the surface of the cone. The artist found it necessary,
therefore, to open the back of the sculpin far enough to make room for
the gap in the decorative field. He has done so by representing the
animal as seen from the top, but split and distended in the middle, so
that the top of the hat is located in the opening thus secured.
[Illustration: Fig. 220. Grease dish representing seal.]
Fig. 220 represents a dish in the shape of a seal. The whole dish is
carved in the form of the animal; but the bottom, which corresponds to
the belly, is flattened, and the back is hollowed out so as to form the
bowl of the dish. In order to gain a wider rim the whole back has been
distended so that the animal becomes inordinately wide as compared to
its length. The flippers are carved in their proper positions at the
sides of the dish. The hind flippers are turned back, and join the tail
closely. A similar method of representation is used in decorating small
boxes. The whole box is considered as representing an animal. The front
of the body is painted or carved on the box front; its sides, on the
sides of the box; the hind side of the body, on the back of the box
(see figs. 282 et seq., p. 270). The bottom of the box is the animal’s
stomach; the top, or the open upper side, its back. These boxes are
bent of a single piece of wood and are represented here unbent.
In the decoration of silver bracelets a similar principle is followed,
but the problem differs somewhat from that offered in the decoration of
square boxes. While in the latter case the four edges make a natural
division between the four views of the animal,—front and right profile,
back and left profile,—there is no such sharp line of division in the
round bracelet, and there would be great difficulty in joining the four
aspects artistically, two whole profiles offer no such difficulty. This
is the method of representation adopted by the native artists (figs.
221; 255-257 p. 245). The animal is imagined cut in two from head to
tail, so that the two halves cohere only at the tip of the nose and
at the tip of the tail. The hand is put through this hole, and the
animal now surrounds the wrist. In this position it is represented
on the bracelet. The method adopted is therefore identical with the
one applied in the hat (fig. 219), except that the central opening is
much larger, and that the animal has been represented on a cylindrical
surface, not on a conical one.
[Illustration: Fig. 221. Design on a bracelet representing a bear, Nass
River Indians.]
An examination of the head of the bear shown on the bracelet (fig.
221), makes it clear that this idea has been carried out rigidly. It
will be noticed that there is a deep depression between the eyes,
extending down to the nose. This shows that the head itself must not be
considered a front view, but as consisting of two profiles which adjoin
at mouth and nose, while they are not in contact with each other on a
level with the eyes and forehead. The peculiar ornament rising over the
nose of the bear, decorated with three rings, represents a hat with
three rings which designate the rank of the bearer.
We have thus recognized that the representations of animals on dishes
and bracelets (and we may include the design on the hat, fig. 219) must
not be considered as perspective views, but as representing complete
animals more or less distorted and split.
The transition from the bracelet to the painting or carving of animals
on a flat surface is not a difficult one. The same principle is
adhered to; and either the animals are represented as split in two so
that the profiles are joined in the middle, or a front view of the
head is shown with two adjoining profiles of the body. In the cases
considered heretofore the animal was cut through and through from the
mouth to the tip of the tail. These points were allowed to cohere, and
the animal was stretched over a ring, a cone, or the sides of a prism.
If we imagine the bracelet opened, and flattened in the manner in which
it is shown in fig. 221, we have a section of the animal from mouth to
tail, cohering only at the mouth, and the two halves spread over a flat
surface. This is the natural development of the method here described
when applied to the decoration of flat surfaces.
[Illustration: Fig. 222. Painting representing bear, Haida.]
It is clear that on flat surfaces this method allows of modifications
by changing the method of cutting. When the body of a long animal, such
as that of a fish or of a standing quadruped, is cut in this manner, a
design results which forms a long narrow strip. This mode of cutting
is therefore mostly applied in the decoration of long bands. When the
field that is to be decorated is more nearly square, this form is
not favorable. In such cases a square design is obtained by cutting
quadrupeds sitting on their haunches in the same manner as before, and
unfolding the animal so that the two halves remain in contact at the
nose and mouth, while the median line at the back is to the extreme
right and to the extreme left.
Fig. 222 (a Haida painting) shows a design which has been obtained
in this manner. It represents a bear. The enormous breadth of mouth
observed in these cases is brought about by the junction of the two
profiles of which the head consists.
[Illustration: Fig. 223. Painting from a house-front representing a
bear, Tsimshian.]
This cutting of the head is brought out most clearly in the painting
fig. 223, which also represents the bear. It is the painting on the
front of a Tsimshian house, the circular hole in the middle of the
design being the door of the house. The animal is cut from back to
front, so that only the front part of the head coheres. The two halves
of the lower jaw do not touch each other. The back is represented by
the black outline on which the hair is indicated by fine lines. The
Tsimshian call such a design “bears meeting”, as though two bears had
been represented.
[Illustration: Fig. 224. Wooden hat painted with the design of a
sculpin, Haida.]
In a number of cases the designs painted on hats must also be explained
as formed by the junction of two profiles. This is the case in the
painted wooden hat (fig. 224), on which the design of a sculpin is
shown. It will be noticed that only the mouth of the animal coheres,
while the eyes are widely separated. The spines rise immediately over
the mouth. The flippers are attached to the corners of the face, while
the dorsal fin is split into halves, each half being joined to an eye.
[Illustration: Fig. 225. Hat made of spruce roots painted with design
of a beaver, Haida or Tsimshian.]
The beaver (fig. 225) has been treated in the same manner. The head
is split down to the mouth, over which rises the hat with four rings.
The split has been carried back to the tail, which, however, is left
intact, and turned up towards the centre of the hat. The importance
of the symbols becomes very clear in this specimen. If the two large
black teeth which are seen under the four rings, and the tail with the
cross-hatchings, were omitted, the figure would represent the frog.
[Illustration: Fig. 226. Tattooing representing a duck, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 227. Tattooing representing a raven, Haida.]
In other designs the cut is made in the opposite direction from the
one described heretofore. It passes from the chest to the back, and
the animal is unfolded so that the two halves cohere along the middle
line of the back. This has been done in the Haida tattooings figs. 226
and 227, the former representing the duck, the latter the raven. In
both the tail is left intact. The duck has been split along the back so
that the two halves of the body do not cohere except in their lowest
portions, while the two halves of the raven are left in contact up to
the head.
[Illustration: Fig. 228. Dancing-apron woven of mountain-goat wool,
design representing a beaver, Tsimshian.]
Fig. 228 is a dancing-apron woven from mountain-goat wool, and fastened
to a large piece of leather, the fringes of which are set with puffin
beaks. The woven design represents the beaver. Its symbols, the two
pairs of incisors and the scaly tail, are clearly represented. While in
most carvings and paintings the tail is turned upward in front of the
body, it is hanging down here between the two feet. The meaning of the
ornaments in the upper part of the apron to the right and to the left
of the head is not quite clear to me, but, if they are significant at
all, I believe they must be considered as the back of the body split
and folded along the upper margin of the blanket. If this explanation
is correct, we have to consider the animal cut into three pieces, one
cut running along the sides of the body, the other one along the back.
[Illustration: Fig. 229. Painted legging with design representing a
beaver sitting on a man’s head, Haida.]
Fig. 229 shows the design on a leather legging, a beaver squatting on
a human head. In this specimen we observe that the proportions of the
body have been much distorted owing to the greater width of the legging
at its upper part. The head has been much enlarged in order to fill the
wider portion of the decorative field.
[Illustration: Fig. 230. Gambling-leather with engraved design
representing a beaver, Tlingit.]
The gambling-leather (fig. 230) is treated in a similar manner. It
represents the beaver, and must probably be explained as the animal
cut in two. The symbols,—the large incisors and a scaly tail,—appear
here as in all other representations of the beaver, but the lower
extremities have been omitted. It might seem that this design could
be explained as well as a front view of the animal, but the deep
depression between the two eyes is not in favor of this assumption. The
head consists undoubtedly of two profiles, which join at the nose and
mouth; but the cut has not been continued to the tail, which remains
intact.
[Illustration: Fig. 231. Embroidered legging representing a sea-monster
with a bear’s head and body of the killer, Haida.]
Fig. 231 is one of a pair of leggings embroidered with quills on
a piece of leather. The design, which represents the sea-monster
described in fig. 183, must also be explained as a representation of
the animal split along its lower side, and flattened. In the lower
portion of the legging the two profiles are seen, which are joined on a
level with the eyes, while the two mouths are separated. The nostrils
are shown in the small triangle below the line connecting the two
eyes. Owing to the shape of the legging, the arms are not attached to
the body, but to the upper part of the head. They appear at the right
and left borders of the legging, and are turned inward along the
lower jaws, the three-toed paws touching the lower border. The fins,
which are supposed to grow out of the upper part of the arms, adjoin
the elbows, and are turned upward. Another pair of fins, which do not
appear in most representations of this monster, are attached to the
upper part of the back, and form the two flaps to the right and left
of the upper margin. On the back we see a series of circles, which
probably represent the dorsal fin. The tail occupies the centre of the
upper margin. The smaller ornaments in the outside corners of the head,
adjoining the mouth, probably represent the gills.
[Illustration: Fig. 232. Painting representing a dog-fish, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 233. Slate dish design representing a shark, Haida.]
In the following figures we find a new cut applied. Figs. 232 and 233
represent the shark. I explained, when discussing the symbols of the
shark, that in the front view of the animal the symbols are shown to
best advantage. For this reason side views of the face of the shark are
avoided, and in representing the whole animal a cut is made from the
back to the lower side, and the two sides are unfolded, leaving the
head in front view.
The painting (fig. 232) has been made in this manner, the two halves
of the body being entirely separated from each other, and folded to
the right and to the left. The heterocerc tail is cut in halves, and
is shown at each end turned downward. The pectoral fins are unduly
enlarged, in order to fill the vacant space under the head.
The shark which is shown in fig. 233 is treated in a slightly different
manner. Again the head is left intact. The cut is made from back to
chest, but the two halves of the animal are not separated. They cohere
at the chest, and are unfolded in this manner, so that the pectoral
fins and dorsal fins appear to the right and left of the body. The
heterocerc tail is not clearly indicated in this specimen.
[Illustration: Fig. 234. Painting on edge of a blanket representing a
killer-whale, Tlingit.]
The method of section applied in fig. 234 is still different. The
figure represents a painting on the border of a large skin blanket. The
animal here represented is the killer-whale. The upper painting clearly
represents the profile of the animal. The lower painting represents
the other profile, so that both the right and the left halves are
visible. Since there was no room for showing the dorsal fin on the
lower painting, it is indicated by a curved line on one of the series
of wider fringes at the lower border. It is remarkable that the tails
in the two halves of the animal are not drawn symmetrically; but it
is possible that this is due to a mistake on the part of the painter,
because the design is repeated on the opposite border of the blanket in
the same manner, but with symmetrical tails. The two halves of the body
differ in details, but their main features are identical. The flipper
is shown on a very large scale. It is attached immediately behind the
head, and extends to a point near the tail. Its principal part is
occupied by a face, in front of which an eye is shown.
Animals are represented by means of sections not only on flat surfaces,
but also in round carvings in which one side cannot be shown. This
is the case on all totem poles, for the rear side of the pole is not
carved. Whenever all the symbols of the animal can be shown on the
front of the totem pole, the animals are apparently represented in
their natural position. But representations of animals, the symbols
of which would be placed on the rear side of the totem pole, make it
clear that the artist actually splits the animals along the rear of
the totem pole, and extends this cut in such a way that the animal is
spread along the curved front of the pole. This will become clear by a
consideration of the following figures.
[Illustration: Fig. 235. Model of totem pole representing a
sea-monster, Haida.
Fig. 236. Model of totem pole representing a sculpin, Haida.]
Fig. 235 represents a sea-monster with a whale’s body and bear’s paws.
It differs from the monster discussed before in that it has a whale’s
head, and no fins attached to the fore paws. It has, however, one large
dorsal fin. The blow-hole of the whale is shown over its eyebrows. The
tail is turned up in front of the body, and the paws are raised in
front of the chest. The dorsal fin will be recognized in the narrow
strip, ornamented with a small ring, which slants downward from the
elbow towards the tail. An ornament of this sort is shown on both sides
of the carving. We see, therefore, that the dorsal fin has been split,
and is turned down along each side of the body. This shows that the
right and left margins of the carved portion of the totem pole must be
considered as the medial line of the back, which has been split and
pulled apart.
The sculpin on the totem pole (fig. 236) is treated in the same manner,
but in this case the cut is made along the lower side of the animal.
The head is turned upward, so that the front view of the face is seen
when looking down upon the back of the fish. The spines rise over nose
and eyebrows. The pectoral fins are shown over the eyebrows on the edge
of the carved portion of the pole, while the hind portion of the lower
part of the body occupies the upper part of the margin of the pole.
[Illustration: Fig. 237. Model of totem pole representing a sea-monster
devouring a fish, Haida.]
The exceedingly intricate central figure on the pole shown in fig.
237 must be explained in the same manner as fig. 235. We see here the
sea-monster described before in fig. 183. It has a bear’s head. In each
ear is placed a small human figure the hands of which grasp the eyelid
of the monster, which they are lifting. The tail (_c_) is turned upward
in front of the body, immediately over a beaver’s head which is the
next lower figure on the column. The dorsal fin (_a_) has been split,
and one-half of it is seen under the mouth of the bear, indicated by a
projection which is decorated with a double circle. The fore paws of
the animal (_d_) are raised in front of its chest, and appear under the
mouth. The fins which are attached to them (_b_) are shown to the right
and to the left of the tail. The animal is swallowing another being,
but it is not clear what animal is meant. A fish tail and a hand are
seen protruding from the mouth. The space between the fore paws and the
tail of the sea-monster is occupied by an inverted bird, which will be
seen clearly when the figure is reversed. Its head is shown with beak
resting between the feet. The two wings (_e_) are extended, and reach
from the fins of the fore arm of the monster to its dorsal fin. The
particular point brought out by this figure is the same as that which
I tried to explain in considering fig. 235; namely, that the two edges
of the carved pole must be considered as the extended medial line of
the back of the animal that is represented on the pole.
These carvings make it clear that in paintings on hats, such as shown
in figs. 219, 224 and 225, and in flat figures, such as fig. 163, we
must consider the outer rim of the figure as the distended sides of a
cut made along the lower side of the body. All of these distortions and
sections of animals may be explained by the necessity the artist felt
of showing in his work all the symbols of the animal.
[Illustration: Fig. 238. Slate carving representing the sea-monster,
Wasgo, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 239. Tattooing representing the fabulous
sea-monster, Ts’um’a´ks, Haida.]
In most cases the symbols appear clearly in profiles of animals. For
this reason the artist, when representing profiles, has not endeavored
to show both sides of the body. I will give here a series of figures
illustrating this point.
Fig. 238 represents the top of a box on which is carved the sea-monster
Wasgo. It has a wolf’s head and body, and a large dorsal fin. It is
able to hunt in the sea as well as on land. The artist has shown a
profile of the animal with one foreleg and one hindleg, the tail curled
up over the back. The dorsal fin, which in most representations of this
animal stands out vertically from the body, has been laid down along
the back in order to fit it into the decorative field.
Fig. 239 is a tattooing representing the sea-monster Ts’um’a´ks, which
is sometimes described as having a raven’s body with a whale’s body
attached to its head, and a fin attached to the raven’s back. It is
shown in profile with one leg, the dorsal fin, and the tails of raven
and whale, twisted around so as to be seen from the side. In other
cases it is described as having a bear’s head with the mouth of a shark.
[Illustration: Fig. 240. Slate dish with design representing a
killer-whale, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 241. Drum painted with design of an eagle,
Tsimshian.]
In fig. 240, which represents the design on a circular slate dish, we
see a good case of the adaptation of a profile to the decorative field.
The design represents a killer-whale with two dorsal fins. The animal
is bent around the rim of the dish so that the head touches the tail.
The two dorsal fins are laid flat along the back, while the large
flipper occupies the centre of the dish.
Fig. 241, which is the painting on the head of a drum, is a combination
of front and side views. The head is turned sideways, while the body,
the outstretched wings, and the feet are shown in front view. This
method is found rarely in the art of the North Pacific coast, and,
so far as I am aware, almost exclusively in representations of the
eagle (see, however, fig. 239). The painting on the outer ring of the
drum-head is difficult to explain. It will be noticed that the tail
of the eagle occupies the lower centre of the ring. On top we see the
front view of a human figure, the arms of which, of diminutive size,
are placed near the lower corners of the face, while the hands are of
very large size. The two sitting figures below the two hands probably
represent the back of the man who is shown on top, but their connection
with the peculiar fin-like figures on the lower portion of the painting
is not clear.
[Illustration: Fig. 242. Tattooing representing the moon, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 243. Carving on the end of a food tray representing
a hawk, Tlingit.]
Fig. 242 is a tattooing representing the moon. In its lower portion the
crescent will be seen. In the dark portion of the moon a semi-human
figure is shown in profile, with one leg. One arm is extended downward,
and one backward, as though he were lifting a heavy weight.
There are very few designs which can possibly be interpreted as
full-face views of animals. I explained before that the face of the
shark is always shown in this manner, because its symbols appear best
in this position. The only other animal which is painted or carved
on flat surfaces in full front view is the hawk or thunder-bird,
whose symbol is the long beak which descends to the chin. A number of
carvings representing the thunder-bird were given in figs. 165-168 (p.
191).
We find full-face representations of the thunder-bird frequently
used on dishes, on which the beak is indicated by a long wedge which
separates the mouth into two halves. It is, however, not certain
whether the artists consider this face always as a full front view,
because we often find (fig. 243) a depression between the two eyes,
corresponding to the depression which I described before when
referring to the joining of the profiles of animals. It may be that
the long central wedge must be considered as the two halves of the
long descending beak, which join in the middle. It might be expected,
however, that in this case the beak would, at least sometimes, be
carried on outward to the right and to the left below the chin,
corresponding to one-half of the beak seen in fig. 166 (p. 191). I have
not observed a single specimen in which this is the case, and therefore
I am inclined to consider the carvings of thunder-birds on dishes as
full front views.
[Illustration: Fig. 244. Painting from a house-front representing
thunder-bird, Kwakiutl.]
This ornament may have originated in the following manner: Many grease
and food dishes have the form of canoes. The canoe symbolizes that a
canoe-load of food is presented to the guests; and that this view is
probably correct is indicated by the fact that the host in his speeches
sometimes refers to the canoe filled with food which he gives to his
guests. The canoe form is often modified, and a whole series of types
may be established forming the transition between canoe dishes and
ordinary trays. Dishes of this sort always bear a conventionalized
face at each short end, while the middle part is not decorated. This
is analogous to the style of the decoration of the canoe. On the whole
the decoration of the canoe is totemic. It may, however, be that the
peculiar manner in which the beak of the hawk is represented has given
rise to the prevalence of this decoration. The upper jaw of the hawk
is always shown so that its point reaches the lower jaw and turns
back into the mouth. When painted or carved in front view the beak is
indicated by a narrow wedge-shaped strip in the middle of the face,
the point of which touches the lower margin of the chin. The sharp
bow and stern of a canoe with a profile of a face on each side, when
represented on a level or slightly rounded surface, would assume the
same shape. Therefore it may be that originally the middle line was not
the beak of the hawk, but the foreshortened bow or stern of the canoe.
This decoration is so uniform that the explanation given here seems to
me probable.
In fig. 244 we see a painting representing a full front view of the
thunder-bird. Its principal symbol is the long beak, which in front
view appears like a long line descending from the nose over the mouth.
In this case it is doubtful whether the body may be considered as being
split along the back. Since the face is certainly represented in front
view, it seems more likely that the animal is represented with spread
wings, similar to the eagle in fig. 241.
I have described a number of dissections applied in representing
various animals. Heretofore we have had cases only in which the
dissections were rather simple. In many cases in which the adaptation
of the animal form to the decorative field is more difficult, the
sections and distortions are much more far-reaching than those
described before.
[Illustration: Fig. 245. Model of totem pole with design representing a
killer-whale, Haida.]
The cut that has been applied in the totem pole (fig. 245) is much
more intricate than the preceding ones. The upper figure represents a
bird which is shown in the form of a human being, to the arms of which
wings are attached. Under this figure we find a representation of the
killer-whale. The hind part of its body is more easily recognized than
the head. A small human figure is seen riding on the dorsal fin. The
tail (_a_), which appears at the lower margin of the figure, is turned
backward over the back of the animal. We must therefore imagine that
the head has been turned downward behind the human figure (_b_) riding
on the dorsal fin (_c_). It would, therefore, lie on the back of the
totem pole, which is not carved. Consequently, according to what was
stated before, the artist has split and distended it so that the middle
line appears at each edge of the carved portion of the pole. Thus the
right half of the head (_d_) has been brought into view on the right
side of the totem pole, and the left half on the left. This is the
explanation of the whale’s head with its teeth, which is seen in our
figure next to the tail, the lower jaw being omitted. The flipper (_e_)
which adjoins the head, is laid over the back of the whale, immediately
under the feet of the human being riding on the dorsal fin of the
whale. The figure must therefore be explained in such a way that the
animal is twisted twice, the tail being turned up over the back, and
the head being first turned down under the stomach, then split and
extended outward.
[Illustration: Fig. 246. Painting for a box front, design representing
a frog, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 247. Painting for a house-front, design
representing a killer-whale, Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 246 is a copy of a painting on the front of a box, made on paper
with colored crayons by a Haida Indian named Wiha. It represents a
frog. By far the greater portion of the box front is occupied by the
head of the animal, which, according to what was said before, must be
considered as consisting of two adjoining profiles. The symbol of the
frog’s head is its toothless mouth. The two black portions extending
downward from the lower corners of the face are two halves of the body.
To these are joined the fore paws, which occupy the space below the
mouth; the upper arm and fore arm being turned inward, the fore feet
being turned outward under the arm. The hind legs occupy the lateral
field on both sides of the head. They are not connected in any way with
the body of the animal.
In fig. 247 we find a novel representation of the killer-whale, which
was given to me as illustrating the painting on a house of the Kwakiutl
Indians. The sections that have been used here are quite complicated.
First of all, the animal has been split along its whole back towards
the front. The two profiles of the head have been joined, as described
before. The painting on each side of the mouth represent gills,
thus indicating that a water-animal is meant. The dorsal fin, which
according to the methods described heretofore would appear on both
sides of the body, has been cut off from the back before the animal was
split, and appears now placed over the junction of the two profiles of
the head. The flippers are laid along the two sides of the body with
which they cohere only at one point each. The two halves of the tail
have been twisted outward so that the lower part of the figure forms a
straight line. This is done in order to fit it over the square door of
the house.
[Illustration: Fig. 248. Painting for a house-front with design
representing a killer-whale, Kwakiutl.]
In fig. 248 the same animal has been treated in still a different
manner. The figure illustrates also the painting from a house-front of
the Kwakiutl Indians. The central parts of the painting are the two
profiles of the head of the killer-whale. The notch in the lower jaw
indicates that it also has been cut, and joined in its central part.
The cut on the upper part of the face has been carried down to the
upper lip. The body has disappeared entirely. The cut of the head has,
however, been carried along backward the whole length of the body as
far as the root of the tail, which latter has been cut off, and appears
over the junction of the two profiles of the head. The dorsal fin has
been split, and the two halves are joined to the upper part of the
head, from which they extend upward and outward. Immediately below them
the two halves of the blow-hole are indicated by two small faces, the
upper parts of which bear a semicircle each. The flippers are attached
to the lower corners of the face. The painting on the face next to the
mouth represents gills.
[Illustration: Fig. 249. Painting on a paddle representing porpoise and
seal, Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 249 is a complicated painting on a Kwakiutl paddle. It represents
a porpoise and a seal combined; the porpoise turning to the right,
the seal to the left, and both having a common body. At the right is
seen the head of the porpoise and the short lines behind it, upward,
represent the animal spouting. (1) is the neck, (2) the flipper, (3) a
joint in the flipper, (4) and (5), (9) and (13) jointly representing
the body of the porpoise, (5) is the stomach, (8) the dorsal fin of
the porpoise, (9) is the backbone both of the porpoise and of the
seal, (12) is the tail of the porpoise. The head of the seal is shown
in (11), (10) represents the ears, although another pair of ears, like
those of all animals, appear over the head. It has been stated before
that (9) is the backbone of both seal and porpoise, (5) is the stomach
of the seal, (13) its flippers, and (4) its tail.
[Illustration: Fig. 250. Painting for a house-front representing a
raven, Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 250 represents the painting from a house-front showing a raven in
profile. This painting appears on the right and left of the doorway;
the beaks facing the door. (1) is the raised tuft on the head of the
raven, (2) feathers, (3) the facial bones, (4) the skin over the
beak, (5) is supposed to be a joint in the tongue, (6) the skin over
the lower jaw, (7) the supposed joint at the base of the tongue, (8)
represents the shoulder joint, (9) feathers, and (10) the long wing
feathers. It will be noticed that the inner feathers (9) are rounded,
while the wing feather has a sharp point, according to the standard
requirements referred to on p. 205. (11) represents the tail with a
single face as a joint, according to standard requirements.
[Illustration: Fig. 251. Painting for a house-front representing a
thunder-bird, Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 251 is a design from a house-front, over the door, representing
a thunder-bird. The design must be considered as consisting, more or
less clearly, of two profiles. (1) represents the hooked nose, (2) the
skull, (3) the ears, (4) the feathers over the heavy eyebrows. The tail
rises over the head. It has the characteristic single joint. Rounded
feathers are shown on the wings, right and left; the extreme long wing
feather is sharply pointed. The feet, to the right and left of the
face, are enormously enlarged. The circular eye design represents the
joint to which three toes are attached.
Fig. 252 represents another painting which is placed over the door
of a Kwakiutl house-front. It represents a whale. In this specimen
are found a number of deviations from the supposed standard. Below is
the tail (1), with the flukes (2). While the double curvature on the
inner side of the flukes is preserved, there is only one joint design
instead of the normal two. The design (3) on each side represents the
fins. According to the standard these ought to be round, but they
are actually sharply pointed like wing feathers. This may be due to
the prevailing tendency of showing the middle feathers as round, and
letting the extreme lateral ones run into a long point which closes
off the design more effectively than a round form would. Over the tail
will be noticed the long mouth and the nose with its sudden turn.
The line (4) indicates the strong curve which sets off the nose from
the forehead. This is analogous to the treatment of the nose among
the Haida. (5) represents the shoulder joint. The scallops under the
eyes are the cheekbones. Over the eyes are the ears (6), over the
forehead rises the dorsal fin with a single joint. Normally the eyes
of the whale are round and the person who explained the design called
particular attention to the fact that in this painting they had not the
standard form.
[Illustration: Fig. 252. Painting for a house-front representing a
whale, Kwakiutl.]
Fig. 253 is another house-painting of the Kwakiutl, representing the
raven. The same principle as in fig. 251 has been adhered to by the
artist. The central portion of the figure is occupied by the head of
the raven split from its lower side upward so that the two halves
cohere along the upper edge of the beak. The two halves of the head
have been folded outward, so that the two halves of the tongues (2)
and the two lower jaws (1) appear on each side of the central line.
The two halves of the lower side of the body are shown extending in a
curved line (3) from the corners of the mouth towards the tail, which
latter has not been cut. The wings have been considerably reduced in
size, and pulled upward so that they appear over each upper corner of
the head. The legs (5) occupy the right and left lower parts of the
painting, the feet (4) being disconnected from the thin legs.
[Illustration: Fig. 253. Painting for a house-front representing a
raven, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 254. Painting from the edge of a blanket
representing a sea-monster, Northern British Columbia.]
In fig. 254, which is a painting on the margin of a blanket, the
sea-monster described in Fig. 183 (p. 199) is represented. The animal
is shown here as split in two along its back; but all its parts,
except the head, the paws, and the tail, are much reduced in size.
The two enormous eyes, and between them the nose, will be readily
recognized. The teeth are indicated by a series of slanting lines under
each eye, but the lower jaws of both halves have been omitted. The
whole body is represented by the thin line extending from the lower
outer corner of the eyes upward, then along the upper margin of the
painting, and downward again. The three dorsal fins are shown over this
line,—one-half of each on each side of the back. The arms are indicated
by two curves under the line indicating the back. The fin of the arm is
shown under the fore arm. While all these are of small size, the paw
which adjoins the fore arm is shown on a large scale, the claws turned
towards the face. The line representing the body runs towards both ends
of the painting along the lower margin until it is merged into the
tail, one-half of which is shown on each side. In this specimen the
proportions of the body are much more distorted than in any previous
case.
The following series of figures are designs found on a number of
silver bracelets. The animals represented on these are also shown very
fragmentarily.
[Illustration: Fig. 255. Design on a silver bracelet representing a
beaver, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 256. Design on a silver bracelet representing a
sea-monster, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 257. Design on a silver bracelet representing a
hawk, Haida.]
In fig. 255 we see the beaver cut in two along its back. The face does
not need any further explanation. The fore legs adjoin it on each
side, the toes being turned inward; but the whole rest of the body has
been omitted, except the two halves of the tail, which the artist was
compelled to show, because they are symbols of the animal.
In fig. 256 we recognize the sea-monster, with a bear’s head and a
whale’s body. Here also by far the greater portion of the etching
represents the head and fore arms of the monster. The fins, that are
attached to the upper arms near the elbow, are shown on a rather small
scale. The whole rest of the body is of small size, the two halves of
the body, with the adjoining half of the tail, occupying only the outer
upper margin of the bracelet. I am not quite clear whether the artist
intended to represent the two halves of the dorsal fin by the curved
ornament adjoining the hat which rises over the nose of the monster.
The hawk which is shown in fig. 257 has been cut in a different manner,
namely, from the beak backward, the two halves being then turned
outward. The centre of the design is occupied by the two halves of the
head, and the two talons which adjoin it. The wings are cut off from
the body, and occupy the outer corners of the design.
[Illustration: Fig. 258. Slate dish with design representing a
sea-monster, Haida.]
The designs on the following series of carvings are no less
conventionalized. Fig. 258 is a sea-monster adjusted to a circular
slate dish. The carving is perfectly symmetrical. The drawing appears
asymmetrical because it has been taken from an eccentric point of view.
Here also the centre is occupied by the head of the animal. The tail
is seen under the lowest part of the mouth, turned upward in front of
the body. The arms are shortened considerably. They are attached to the
lower corners of the mouth, the paws touching the chin. The fins are
joined to the upper part of the arms, and are turned upward so that
they lie close to the sides of the face and about on a level with the
ears. Attention is called again to the spiral nostrils.
In fig. 259, which represents the front of a small box carved in slate,
the same sea-monster is shown. Again we see the animal cut in two, the
section separating the eyes and the ears, the mouth, however, being
left intact. Here the whole body has been omitted, with the exception
of the paws to which the fins are attached. The paws will be recognized
turned inward under the mouth, while the fins extend upward along
the outer margins of the slab. The dorsal fin has been bisected, and
one-half is shown in each upper corner. The ornament in the centre
of the upper margin probably represents the tail turned upward over
the back so that it almost touches the head. This arrangement must be
considered in connection with the formal treatment of boxfronts which
will be discussed later (pp. 263 et seq.).
[Illustration: Fig. 259. Front of a slate box with design representing
a sea-monster, Haida.]
[Illustration: Fig. 260. Slate slab with design representing a
sea-monster, Haida.]
Fig. 260 represents the carving on a slate slab. We have here a
different representation of the sea-monster, which is also, as we might
say, much abbreviated. The head occupies by far the larger portion
of the carving. The body which is seen underneath the head, in the
centre of the slab, is indicated by a comparatively small square with
rounded edges, decorated with two fins. The rest of the decoration
on the lower edge of the slab must be interpreted as the arms of the
monster, the large face on each corner representing an elbow. The whole
arm, extending from the elbow to the hand, is omitted. The latter is
indicated by an oval the centre of which is occupied by an eye. From it
rise the three fingers or claws. The important symbols of the monster,
the fins, which are attached to the fore arm, are shown adjoining the
elbow, and rise along the sides of the slab, outside of the eyes. The
two ornaments occupying the upper corners of the slab are undoubtedly
the tail. This arrangement is also determined by the general
principles governing the decoration of boxes (see p. 263).
The shark which is shown in fig. 261 is found on one end of a small
food tray. I do not need to repeat the description of the shark’s
face, on which the characteristic symbols will be recognized. I have
introduced this figure here in order to show that the whole body of the
animal has been omitted with the sole exception of its pectoral fins,
which are carved on the rim of the tray on both sides of the forehead.
Their position is somewhat analogous to the one found on the totem pole
fig. 213 (p. 219).
[Illustration: Fig. 261. Design from the end of a food tray
representing a shark, Tlingit.]
[Illustration: Fig. 262. Slate dish with design representing a sculpin,
Haida.]
In figs. 262 and 263 we find the representations of the sculpin
distorted and dissected in the same manner as the sea-monster of the
preceding figures.
In fig. 262 the sculpin has been adapted to a circular slate dish. The
centre of the design is occupied by a rosette, which has undoubtedly
been copied from European patterns. In the drawing the outlines of the
various parts of the body have been strengthened in order to make their
relations somewhat clearer. It will be noticed that the head is split
in two, cohering only at the nose and the upper jaw. The two spines
rise immediately from the nose. The two halves of the body extend from
the corners of the face upward along the rim of the dish. There they
grow thinner, indicating the thin portion of the fish body near the
tail. The tail has not been split, and is turned upward and backward so
that it touches the central rosette. A comparison between this design
and the design at the centre of the upper margin in fig. 259 will show
a great similarity between the two, thus making it probable, that, as
stated before, the latter design is intended to represent the tail of
the monster. The pectoral fins of the sculpin are shown in a rather
abnormal position. They are turned forward from the body so that they
adjoin the lower jaw. They will be recognized between the jaws and
the rim of the dish. The dorsal fin is indicated by the long pointed
ornaments extending from the eye towards the tail.
[Illustration: Fig. 263. Front of a slate box with design representing
a fish, Haida.]
In the design fig. 263 a fish has been dissected in a somewhat
different manner. The head occupies the upper margin of the slab. It
has a remarkably triangular shape. The body has been bisected from head
to tail, and turned and twisted in such a manner that each half extends
in a curve downward from the corners of the face to the middle of the
lower margin of the slab. The pectoral fins have been left in contact
with the corners of the mouth, and are placed in the same position as
in the preceding figure, namely, adjoining the lower jaw. They meet
just below the chin of the animal. I believe the ornaments which are
stretched along the right and left margins of the slab represent the
dorsal fins.
[Illustration: Fig. 264. Body painting representing the bear, Kwakiutl.]
I have described at a previous place (p. 215) the extraordinary
distortion and dissection of the killer-whale in its adaptation to a
blanket, and I have given the description at that place.
Quite a unique distortion is found in body paintings used by the
Kwakiutl Indians in a boy’s dance. Fig. 264 is a copy of a body
painting representing the bear. On the chest, the head of the bear is
shown turned downward. The white spots over the collarbones are the
eyes of the bear; the angular line with semicircles, the mouth and
teeth. On the upper arms are shown the forelegs, the claws just under
the elbow. The hind legs are shown on the front of the thighs. On the
back of the person is shown the nape of the bear placed on the upper
part of the back; under it, extending downward, is the back, the lines
representing hair. The hip joints are shown by dark designs on the
buttocks. The spiral design on the left leg was said to represent the
tail.
Still more remarkable is the frog painting shown in fig. 265. On the
small of the back is shown the top of the head of the frog; the two
eyes with eyebrows above, the mouth below. Corresponding to this place
we find in the front of the body the mouth set with teeth (which really
do not belong to the frog). The back of the frog is shown on the upper
part of the back; the hind legs on the back of the arms. The opposite
side of the hind legs is shown on the front of the arms. It seems
probable that in the design which was copied for me by an Indian, the
painting on the front of the left arm was accidentally omitted. The
shoulder joint is shown on the front of the thighs; the forelegs in
corresponding position on the back of the thighs; the ankle joints on
the knees; and the foot on the calf of the legs. In other words, the
frog is shown in such a way as though the body of the person were the
frog. No explanation was given for the black design on the left leg.
[Illustration: Fig. 265. Body painting representing the frog, Kwakiutl.]
* * * * *
We will turn now to the purely formal side of the treatment of the
decorative field. There is a tendency to cover the entire surface with
design elements. Vacant places are avoided. When the surface of the
object represented has no features that lend themselves to decorative
development, the artist resorts to devices that enable him to fill
the surface with patterns. On totem poles the bodies of the animals
represented occupy considerable space. The monotony of the surface
is broken by placing the forelegs and hindlegs across the front of
the body, by turning up the tail in front, and by adding small animal
figures.
Far more important is the application of a great variety of decorative
elements, all of which consist of curved lines. The Indians have a
decided disinclination to apply equidistant curves. In all work of
the better class the lines are so arranged that more or less crescent
shaped surfaces result, or that narrow, curved areas, wide in the
middle, narrower at the ends, are formed.
The most striking decorative form which is used almost everywhere,
consists of a round or oval field, the “eye design”. This pattern is
commonly so placed that it corresponds to the location of a joint.
In the present stage of the art, the oval is used particularly as
shoulder, hip, wrist, and ankle joint, and as a joint at the base
of the tail and of the dorsal fin of the whale. It is considered as
a cross section of the ball and socket joint; the outer circle the
socket, the inner the ball. Often the oval is developed in the form of
a face: either as a full face or a profile.
The general disposition of this design demonstrates that the
explanation is not by any means always tenable. Thus in the blanket,
fig. 205 (p. 215), the eye pattern in the two lower corners has no
connection with a joint. In this position, in the mouth of an animal,
it is sometimes described as food. The two profile faces higher up on
the side of the same blanket, are obviously fillers. They might be
replaced by “eye designs”. Another instance of similar kind is found on
the upper part of the face of the dish fig. 168 (p. 191). The circular
designs shown here might perhaps be interpreted as tail joints, but
they are probably decorative elements. The design appears clearly as a
filler in fig. 283 _f_ (p. 272) at the inner upper corner on the long
side of the box, and on the ears of the beaver, fig. 229, (p. 227). On
Chilkat blankets it appears always in fixed positions (see p. 258) and
in large boxes it is the constant corner design (see p. 263). Its use
and interpretation as a joint is presumably related to the frequent
ornamental combination shown, for instance, in the feet on fig. 160
(p. 188) and in the tails fig. 193 (p. 205). The oval represents the
joint and the elevated part the limb. These are at the same time formal
elements that appear regularly on the lateral border designs on carved
boxes (fig. 274, p. 263). The eye design appears in a variety of forms
ranging from a large double eye to a circular pattern with black center.
Lieutenant Emmons has collected the various design elements as they
appear on the blankets and has given the names by which they are
designated by the Tlingit (fig. 266). These names do not fit the
explanations given for the whole pattern. The “double eye” (_h_) and
the “eye” (_f_) are not always eyes but occur also as joints, (fig. 269
_b_). The profile eye is called the “head of the salmon trout” (_c_).
It is used quite generally as the eye of any animal. The “black eye”
(_g_), the “nostril” (_l_) and the design called “one in another” (_o_)
are practically identical. They are also used as joints. The frequent
use of the circular design of light or dark color, set off against a
dark or light background indicates that the tribes of the north west
coast do not tolerate areas of the same color, the monotony of which is
relieved by the insertion of circular designs of contrasting colors.
These may be seen on many blanket and box designs (fig. 274 et seq.).
[Illustration: Fig. 266. Design elements from Tlingit blankets.]
The forms called “side holes” (_p_) and “holes”, “ends of gambling
sticks” or “rain drops” (_q_) have white circles relieving a black
background. It is quite evident that these designs also, as parts of
the whole design, have not the significance implied in the names, nor
do the names explain the reason for their use. The frequent occurrence
of the white circles, both isolated and in lines, (see figs. 269 et
seq., pp. 259 et seq.) proves that they must be considered primarily as
a formal element designed to break large surfaces.
It seems to me most likely that the black or white circular design has
been the basis from which the eye design has developed. In the style of
the north west coast art shoulders, hips, hands, and feet form large
dark monotonous surfaces. These are broken by a large white circle or
oval, which is again varied by a black center. This tendency would
also account for the goggle design (fig. 266 _i_). The same desire to
relieve the monotony of the cheek surface leads to the insertion of an
oval design on the cheek (_k_).
In carved designs these forms are not contrasted by color, but the form
alone varies the monotony of the large undecorated surface.
Another characteristic pattern, the narrow crescent, has presumably
also originated from the desire to break the monotony of continuous
areas. It appears particularly when it is desired to set off two
merging patterns against each other. Here also design names obtained by
Emmons, “woman’s hair ornament” (_r_) and “slit” (_s_) have nothing to
do with its function and significance as part of the whole pattern.
The most characteristic filler, next to the eye, is a double curve,
which is used to fill angular and round fields that rise over a
strongly or gently curved line. Many fillers of this type have a
dark colored band at the upper end, generally rounded in paintings
or carvings, square in blankets (see fig. 202, lower lateral design
on central panel; the tail patterns, fig. 193). In the blankets the
angular form is perhaps due to the technique in weaving, although the
frequent eye designs prove that round forms are not impossible. On
blankets the heavy upper line is often drawn out into a tip (fig.
270 _a_, over the “goggle” design on the side of the central panel).
Examples of these forms have been collected by Lieutenant Emmons who
states that the Tlingit call them “the wing feather of red-winged
flicker” (fig. 266 _t_). The use of the pointed form of this design for
a bird feather agrees with the theoretical claim of the Kwakiutl (see
p. 205), but obviously the explanation does not always fit the meaning
of the pattern as a whole, as is shown by the killer-whale design fig.
205 (p. 215) or the whale design fig. 270 (p. 260).
The design is used commonly to represent quite diverse objects. Thus,
the double flicker-feather (fig. 266 _t_), occurs in fig. 269 _a_ as
the beak of a bird, occupying the middle of the mouth design between
the two large eyes. It occurs also between the ears along the upper
border of the design as the single flicker-feather. Here as well as
over the beak of the bird, in the lateral fields, it is used only
for filling in parts of the design which otherwise would remain
undecorated. In fig. 202 (p. 213) the same design occurs between the
eyes, just over the nostril, and here also it obviously has nothing to
do with the red-winged flicker. Many other cases of this application of
the wing feather design, simply for the purpose of filling in spaces,
may be observed in practically all the blankets. A comparison of fig.
202 with the box designs fig. 274 shows that the wing feather design
may serve to express the forearm and the upper arm. In fig. 274, we
have the two hands placed in a position, similar to the paws in figs.
202 and 269 _b_. On the box fig. 274 _a_ the parts are connected with
the body by a narrow red strip, which is divided by characteristic
curves into two parts. A comparison of this design with figs. 222 and
223 shows very clearly that they are meant to represent the upper
arm. In the blanket design fig. 269 _b_, the two sections connecting
the paw with the body may be recognized distinctly as upper arm and
forearm. In the blanket designs fig. 202, the space that is available
for the upper arm is much condensed; but it is quite obvious that the
two wing feather designs which lie on the outer sides of the paws
must be interpreted here also as the forearm and upper arm. Judging
by this analogy, I think there can be very little doubt that the two
wing feathers placed by the sides of the body in fig. 269 _a_ may be
considered in the same way as the two parts of the arm of the animal
represented. Since the animal here shown is a bird, these feather
designs are in this way made to represent the bones of the wing.
Similar considerations have determined the distribution of ornaments in
the design fig. 270 _b_. Here the two feet will be recognized at the
lower edge of the design. Adjoining it, above the “eye”, are two long
white flicker-feather designs, which obviously represent the legs. Each
of the two inverted double eyes under the jaws must be interpreted as
a shoulder joint to which is attached the lower part of the arm in the
form of a flicker-feather design.
The forms here discussed are interpreted as various kinds of
animals,—birds, quadrupeds, sea-monsters,—but never as the red-winged
flicker, nor can the parts be interpreted as ornaments made of
flicker-feathers. It is obvious that we are dealing here with a fixed
form, which has a conventional name, and which is used for a variety of
purposes.
It will be noticed that this design occurs in three principal forms.
In one of these it is cut off square at the upper end. Most of those
shown in fig. 266 are of this type. Another characteristic form of this
design has the pointed wing feather, (as the second one in the series
fig. 266 _t_). A third form, which is not given in the series of named
designs, seems to be quite common. It has a rounded tip, and may be
observed, for instance, in the beak part in front of the upper eye in
the lateral panels of figs. 203 and 269 _a_; also in the central field
in fig. 273 _b_.
The wing design is applied wherever a somewhat oval or rectangular
field which is situated laterally has to be filled in, particularly
when the field adjoins another design which is surrounded by heavy
black lines, and which forms part of an animal body. For this reason
the design appears very commonly in front of, over, or under the eye
design. It is used to fill in the ears; it appears at the sides of the
body, as in figs. 203 and 269 _a_; and it is used to fill in small
fields which adjoin black lines, as for instance, in the lowest section
of the lateral panels in fig. 269 _a_.
On blankets the light circle on a darker background with black tip
and small white segment at the base, is almost ever-present. The
white segment at the base is limited very often by a pointed double
curve,—like a brace,—which divides the adjoining colored field more or
less distinctly into two halves. These may be observed, for instance,
in one of the ear designs in figs. 202 and 269 _b_, and also in the
design over the nose in fig. 202.
This pattern is also used as a filler for long narrow spaces.
According to Emmons this is called the “mouth design” (fig. 266 _j_)
or the “eyebrow” (_e_), but it is often used on fields that cannot be
interpreted as “mouth” or “eyebrow”, as for instance, in the lateral
parts of the lower border of fig. 202 and in the lower corner of the
box, fig. 274 _b_.
Judging from the general application of this design, it is quite
obvious that it is not primarily a feather design, but that it is a
decorative element used throughout in certain definite positions for
the purpose of filling in.
Flat black curves are used quite often for indicating the teeth. These
may be observed in fig. 269 _a_, on the body of fig. 270 _a_, in the
lowest face in fig. 204, in the lower faces of fig. 271.
* * * * *
We have discussed before the adjustment of animal form to the
decorative field. The adjustment is not by any means free, but
definite, stylistic forms may be recognized. These appear with great
clarity on the Chilkat blankets.
The measurements of the blankets show that the central height is
very nearly one half of the width. The width of the narrow border,
consisting of a black and yellow stripe, is about one twelfth of the
total width. The angle of the lower border is quite variable, the
vertical distance from a line connecting the lower corners of the
blanket to its greatest depth is generally a little less than one sixth
of the width. The fundamental trait of the blanket pattern is the
division of the field into three panels. The central one about double
the width of the lateral ones, or more. In most blankets the line of
division of these fields is quite clear and is indicated by black and
white lines. The designs on the lateral fields are symmetrical and
quite distinct from the central field.
[Illustration: Fig. 267. Schematic design showing the arrangement of
the central field of the Chilkat blanket.]
[Illustration: Fig. 268. General plans of Tlingit blankets.]
The blankets may be divided into two large groups. Their fundamental
patterns are indicated schematically in fig. 267. The one design is
clearly a representation of an animal with a large head which occupies
the whole upper part of the field down to an almost straight cross
line (fields 1, 2, 5, fig. 268). Under it are the body (field 3) and
in the lower border the tail and hips (field 4) of the animal. It may
be noticed that there are always two tail joints, although in other
cases the use of a single tail joint for birds and a double tail joint
for sea mammals is fairly consistent. Fields 6, 7, and 8 are used in
various ways. They are not essential parts of the animal represented,
although field 6 may be utilized for the purpose of showing parts of
the back, and field 7 may be utilized for a representation of the fore
arms. In this style we may distinguish, in the wide center, a central
stripe, consisting of the elements numbered 6, 2, 3, 4 and two lateral
stripes 5, 1, 7, and 8. Generally these sections interlock. In a few
specimens, the outer limits of field 3 are carried down to the lower
border so that they form a continuous broad line with the outer limits
of field 4.
[Illustration: Fig. 269. Chilkat blankets.]
Examples of this type are shown in figs. 202 and 269. In these the
animal figure in the center appears very clearly. It will be noticed
that the large eyes of the animal have always a cheek design attached
to them. These appear also in fig. 203, a blanket belonging to the same
class, the lower part of which is, however, much less distinctively
body and tail belonging to the large head. The reduction of field 7
and its extension to the lower margin is rare in other specimens. In
fig. 202 field 7 is occupied by the raised hands of the animal, while
in fig. 269 _a_ it is occupied by a wing design. The rectangular frame
surrounding the body in fig. 269 _b_ is an exceptional feature which I
have seen only in one other modern blanket.
[Illustration: Fig. 270. Chilkat blankets.]
A sub-type may be distinguished in which the lower part is treated
differently (fig. 270 _a_). The two eyes of field 4 are of the same
size as those of field 1. In this way a more symmetrical impression
is produced, but at the expense of the unity of the animal form. This
treatment lends itself to a sharper separation of the fields 5, 1,
7, 8 against the fields 6, 2, 3, 4 so that the whole central field
seems to be divided into three sections (see fig. 204). Fig. 270 _a_
is decidedly influenced by the second type of blanket; the four eyes
being approximately of the same size and symmetrically arranged around
a central face.
The fundamental feature of the second type of blankets is a central
face placed a little higher than in the preceding type, so that it
forms exactly the center of the whole field. In place of the large eyes
on top, we find two large inverted eyes, often without the adjoining
jaw design. In many cases two small circular patterns, or small eye
designs, occupy the center of the lower border. These may often be
identified with the nostril of the head to which the two large lower
eyes belong. This pattern is much more symmetrical than the former
type, but its symbolism is much more obscure. I presume that the
inverted position of the eye in the upper border is essentially due
to the attempt to obtain greater symmetry. For an explanation it is
necessary that the upper eyes must be viewed as some part of the body
that is turned upside down. Characteristic examples of this type are
shown in figs. 103 and 271. In these, the fields to the right and left
of the central face are treated, in the former, as a profile face; in
the second they are decorated with a feather design filler. A somewhat
different treatment is given in fig. 272 which may be compared with
fig. 270. In both a large face occupies the center of the whole design,
surrounded by the four large eyes and the lateral spaces filled with
feather designs.
[Illustration: Fig. 271. Chilkat blankets.]
[Illustration: Fig. 272. Chilkat blanket.]
In fig. 273 the upper eyes have been moved towards the center and the
eye design has been expanded into a profile which occupies the whole
upper margin of the central field. In fig. 273 _b_ the lateral fields
next to the central face are occupied by the two sides of the dorsal
fin so that here the form of a whale is brought out fairly clearly.
[Illustration: Fig. 273. Chilkat blankets.]
The general scheme of the narrow lateral panels is also quite definite.
We find on practically all the blankets an eye design,—part of the
profile of an animal’s head,—in the upper, outer corner, another eye
design near the lower border, generally approximately in the middle
of the lateral field. The position of the lower eye design is much
more irregular than that of the upper one. In general we are given the
impression of an animal, the body of which extends along the extreme
outer border of the blanket, the head occupying the centre of the
panel, while the feet or tail are shown along the lower border. In this
way a space is left in the middle, next to the central panel, which
does not belong essentially to the form of the animal.
In both fundamental types the intervening spaces which are not filled
by the large eye designs, the body, tail, and extremities, are filled
with a variety of patterns which depend only in part upon the selection
of the animal to be represented, but are very largely determined by
esthetic considerations.
[Illustration: Fig. 274. Front, reverse and side of a painted box.]
[Illustration: Fig. 275. Painted and carved box front.]
[Illustration: Fig. 276. Four sides of a painted box, Tlingit.]
The broad sides of rectangular boxes bear the same fundamental design
as the first type of blankets; an animal with an enormous head on the
upper border, the body occupying the centre below. A fairly consistent
difference between the blanket and box types is that the lower border
of the large face is curved on the boxes; straight on the blankets.
I believe this difference is due to the desire to avoid excessive
parallelism. In the blanket the straight lower line of the head is set
off against the curves of the upper part of the head and against the
angle in the lower border of the blanket, while in the boxes a straight
middle line would appear set off against the parallel upper and lower
edges of the box. The lateral panels of the blanket correspond, in a
way, to the narrow lateral strips in the front of the long boxes (fig.
274 _a_) which are characterized by a fairly large eye design in each
corner. These are connected by a variety of decorative elements. At
the lower border of the box front there originate, in this manner,
five fields. The middle one being occupied by the body of the central
animal; the corners being occupied by the eye designs which form the
basis of the lateral strips. Between these there remain spaces which
are often filled with designs representing the fore or hind feet of
the central animal. On account of the shifting of the eyes the five
field division does not appear as clearly in fig. 275. The reverse side
of fig. 276 is treated differently; in the lower field the body is
omitted, the two eyes placed in the middle so that a fourfold division
of the whole area under the mouth originates. A similar treatment is
given to a front (fig. 277 below), in which the eyes are placed in the
corners while the middle is occupied by the two sides of a tail, which,
however, is treated like a hawk’s face. The arbitrary character of the
details appears very clearly in this arrangement.
[Illustration: Fig. 277. Four sides of a painted box, front on a larger
scale, Tlingit.]
The narrow sides of the boxes are generally painted with a design
analogous to the central design of the front with this difference,
however, that the lateral panels are missing and that the head is
more compressed. In a number of cases the short sides are treated
differently, as shown in fig. 276. Very rarely the short sides contain
a profile figure that does not occupy the whole width of this side
(fig. 277).
[Illustration: Fig. 278. Front and side of a painted box.]
There are also a number of low boxes which are treated somewhat
differently. On account of the lowness of the sides the lower rim
of the head is drawn straight so that a narrow rectangular panel
originates along the lower border (fig. 278). In this specimen the eyes
are retained; the central face in the lower field presumably represents
the body, to which are attached the arms and hands. In most specimens
of this type, however, the lower section is almost entirely suppressed;
the large upper face is retained but under it we find only a few
ornaments that may be interpreted only as fillers (fig. 279 above).
There are also a number of low boxes in which the body is entirely
suppressed. They contain, essentially, the large head design with a few
decorative features along the sides, and the eyes in the upper corners.
(Fig. 279 below).
The arrangement of the long boxes is such that the center of the mouth,
or a point a little below it, is the center of the decorative field
(figs. 274-276). A line drawn from the center of the lower border to
the upper corners passes almost always along the corner of the mouth
and often also through the sharp curve at the upper, outer outline of
the face. The line drawn from the center of the upper border to the
lower corner passes, generally, through the corner of the mouth. When
the central field along the upper border is wide, so that it reaches
down to the upper curve limiting the mouth, the eye is shown in profile
(figs. 274 _b_, 276 reverse). When the central field consists only of
a sharp short angle, there is a double eye (figs. 274 _a_, 275, 276
front, 277).
The general arrangement of lines on the box is such that the upper
curves of the face are strongly curved downward. The curvature
decreases downward; and in some boxes, for instance in those shown in
figs. 275 and 276 reverse, there is a tendency to an arrangement of
lines which are convex, upward.
[Illustration: Fig. 279. Front, reverse and side of carved boxes.]
The eye decorations are always so placed that they are not arranged in
straight lines. It will be seen that in the best boxes they fall into
curves that intersect the black lines of the design. In fig. 274 _a_,
the eyes in the lower corners and those in the mouth are placed so as
to form a continuous curve; in fig. 274 _b_, the arrangement of the
eyes in the upper corners, the eyes of the large head, and those in the
mouth form a fairly regular curve.
In the square boxes on which only one side of the face is shown on
each side (fig. 280), the body is very much reduced in size. In most
of these the large head is limited below by a straight line, while on
the long boxes containing the full face on the front the lower line of
the face is curved. In only one of these (fig. 278) do we find the face
limited below by a straight line.
[Illustration: Fig. 280. Carved boxes.]
In fig. 280 _a_, the two sides shown on the left are occupied by a
large head on top, corresponding to the blanket fields 1, 2, and 5. The
ear (5) is much reduced in size. The sharp beak in the middle indicates
that the hawk is meant. Under it is seen a small field corresponding
to field 3 on the blankets and under it a face with its two eyes,
corresponding to 4. The field 7 is occupied by the arms, indicated by
the curved line running from the shoulder to the wrist of the raised
hand. The whole lateral field of the blanket is condensed in the
narrow strip to the right and left of the face and body. The designs
on the upper corners are clearly ornamental and do not represent
any particular part of the head; the eyes in the lower corners are
considered as feet and toes; the large eyes over the lower corners as
knee joints. The two sides of the box shown on the right hand side
correspond in all details to those on the left, excepting the mouth,
which is treated quite differently; the nostrils being shown in the
center.
[Illustration: Fig. 281. Carved box, Tlingit.]
In fig. 280 _b_ the lower portion of the decorated side is much reduced
in size and the marginal fields are simplified. The head may represent
a hawk; the eyes in the lower fields are exceptional in so far as
they are not placed in the corners but near the body and they may be
considered ankle joints and below them the toes. The eye designs in
the upper corners take the place of the ears. The reduction of the
body is even more marked in fig. 281; here the eye designs and the
adjoining curves on the upper margin are clearly fillers; the body
has been completely dissolved. The eyes in the lower corners with the
attached lower curve show an attempt to represent a flipper. The common
character of these three specimens is the horizontal dividing line
under the mouth and (excepting the one face in fig. 281) the general
tendency to the symmetrical arrangement of lines in the upper and lower
fields. The lines in the upper field point from the middle downward,
and those in the lower, from the middle upward.
[Illustration: Fig. 282. Carved trays.]
There are a number of peculiar developments of the head and body
designs which are used on small food trays, the sides of which are
bent out of a single plank. In one group of these (fig. 282) the two
narrow sides represent, in front, the head of the animal; on the
opposite, side the tail. This appears most clearly in figs. 282 _b_
and _d_; both representing the beaver. In fig. 282 _d_ the beaver’s
head and tail are perfectly plain. In 282 _b_ there is considerable
confusion; the beaver’s body below is provided with two human arms and
over it is indicated the large characteristic head. The tail is shown
on the opposite short side, together with the hind legs and the two
disconnected eyes which ordinarily would form the hip joints and would
be connected with the upper end of the thighs. On all these specimens,
282 _a_, _b_, and _c_, the other sides show an inverted face. This
originates evidently in such a way that the eyes represent, at one
end, the shoulder joints, at the opposite end, the hip joints, but
instead of developing the sides as fore and hind legs, the inverted
eyes have lead to the development of a face design which has no
particular relation to the animal represented. In other words, we find
here, as well as in many other places that elements which are in part
derived from representations of parts of animals, have assumed a purely
decorative function so that an explanation of the details is, to a
great extend, arbitrary. The geometrical decoration on the long side
of fig. 282 _d_ is also derived from the shoulder and hip joints, but
instead of parts of a face, slit designs fill in the rest of the side.
[Illustration: Fig. 283. Carved trays.]
The trays shown in fig. 283 are of the same make as those shown
before, with the only difference that on the long sides the shoulder
joints, knee and foot are shown in the ordinary way. The hind limbs
are here represented on the short side, where the hip joints are
shown by two large eyes in the upper part of the design. It will be
observed, however, that in these cases also there is a considerable
amount of arbitrary use of decorative elements that have no particular
significance, but which must be considered simply as fillers. This
appears most clearly in fig. 283 _e_, which represents a dish with a
design of a human being. Here the arms are represented on the long
sides, the shoulder joint by an eye which, however, is provided with
lids. The space under the eye is filled in with a mouth which has
no function in this position. It is evidently introduced in the same
way as the profile faces which serve as fillers on the blankets. The
most distinctive specimen of this type is shown in fig. 283 _f_. It
represents a beaver, the face indicated by disconnected eyes, mouth,
and ear; the nose showing the form of one of the conventional copper
plates used by the northwest coast Indians, while the face in the
middle of the upper border is purely ornamental. The opposite short
side shows very clearly a tail, hip, legs, and feet and on the long
side also the large shoulder joint in the form of an eye with ear; the
arm and the foot are distinctly shown but here also, by the addition of
four teeth, the shoulder joint is elaborated in the form of a face; the
eyes in the corners of the long field are purely ornamental.
[Illustration: Fig. 284. Carved trays.]
To the same group belong also the carved trays cut out of a single
piece of wood, shown in fig. 284. Here we have only the head design
which is adjusted to the curvature of the upper border of the
decorative field. The lines of the face are drawn so as to conform to
the decorative field.
It will be observed that the eyes of the large head in the blankets
are always almost horizontal while those on the boxes and trays are
strongly inclined. I presume this is due to the tendency to avoid
massing of parallel lines.
[Illustration: Fig. 285. Designs on Tlingit armor.]
The large head design found on the blankets and boxes occurs also on
the paintings in the center of the front of slat armour. The lateral
panels are missing and the design consists simply of the head with
attached shoulder, arm, and hand (fig. 285).
A number of square food trays, bent of a single piece of wood, are
not decorated according to this plan. The face, consisting of two
symmetrical halves, is replaced by a series of profiles (fig. 286); the
short and high sides have the large eye in the left hand upper corner;
the mouth in the lower right hand corner. The design on the long sides
represents the sides of the body. The large eyes stand, presumably,
for the shoulder joint and are placed in the center of the side; wrist
and fingers are in the lower left hand corner. The significance of
the design in the right hand upper corner is not clear. The general
distribution of the design elements is evidently determined by the
central position of the large eyes.
[Illustration: Fig. 286. Painted tray.]
[Illustration: Fig. 287. Painted boxes.]
The boxes shown in fig. 287 illustrate that still another pattern is
used on square boxes. Each of the four sides of the two boxes shown in
figs. 287 _a_ and _b_, is divided into four rectangles of unequal size.
The general plan of the two designs is almost the same, although there
are considerable differences in detail. It is quite evident that in 287
_a_ the lower part of the first and third sides represents legs and
feet. A distinct wing design appears in the left hand upper rectangle
of the fourth side, but otherwise the arrangement of the elements
is so arbitrary that a safe interpretation is impossible. It seems
plausible that in this case also the attempt at decoration was much
more important than the attempt at interpretation. An interpretation
was given to me for the box shown in fig. 287 _b_. Although obtained
from Charles Edensaw, one of the best artists among the Haida, I
consider it entirely fanciful. The first side to the left, corresponds
to the third side, which is opposite to it on the box. The second side
corresponds to the fourth side. Edensaw explained the design as showing
four interpretations of the raven as culture hero. The upper right
hand rectangle of the first side he claimed to represent the head of
the raven surmounted by the ear; the large eye to the left of it, in
the left hand upper corner, the shoulder and under it the wing and
tail. The design in the right hand lower corner he interpreted as the
foot; the toes are clearly visible in the lowest right hand corner of
this field. He claims that the head turned upside down in the left hand
upper rectangle of the second side represents the head of the raven
and under it the hand; the raven being conceived as a human being. The
rectangle in the upper right hand corner contains the shoulder; the
right hand lower corner under it, the tail; and the left hand lower
corner, leg and foot.
The box shown in fig. 287 _c_ is related to the general design of fig.
287 _b_. The somewhat slanting lines between the upper and lower fields
occur in both cases, but the vertical division of each side, which is
characteristic of the specimen just described, is lacking in the last
named specimen.
[Illustration: Fig. 288. Horn spoons showing carving on the back; _a_,
representing sea-monster; _b_, hawk; _c_, beaver (?); _d_, raven; _e_,
killer-whale; _f_, raven; _g_, dlia (?); _h_, sun.]
A fairly fixed formal arrangement may also be observed on horn spoons
moulded of a single piece (fig. 288). On the back of the spoon is a
design, the center of which is a large face. In many specimens the
space above the eye is filled by two ear designs which are doubled
and unusually large on account of the space that they have to fill.
In these specimens the space between the ears is taken up by a narrow
decorated strip. In a few simpler forms parts of the bowl of the spoon
remain undecorated.
[Illustration: Fig. 289. Dish of horn of big-horn-sheep representing
the bear.]
A closer examination of the decorated objects shows that even apart
from the decorative use of symbolic motives, geometric elements are
not by any means absent. The most striking use of geometrical forms
is found on wooden trays, which bear at the ends the characteristic
faces, but which are decorated on the sides by groups of short parallel
lines (fig. 284, p. 273). The line and circle pattern on the dish
(fig. 168, p. 191) illustrates also the use of geometrical forms for
decorative purposes. On the berry spoon (fig. 215, p. 221) the space
left vacant by the symbolic design is filled in with a net of crossing
lines. This specimen shows that the cross hatching which occurs in many
specimens,—on the beaver tail (fig. 157, p. 186), on berry spoons (fig.
182, p. 197), on spoons (fig. 189, p. 201) and often in red or black
as a filler on boxes (fig. 274, p. 263) has a decorative value even
when it may be given at the same time a symbolic meaning. The dish of
big-horn-sheep horn (fig. 289) shows a bear’s head at each end. At the
same time it has a decorative border which seems to imitate the border
of a basket and which is purely ornamental. It serves to close off the
rim which without it would seem to end abruptly. A similar device is
used on a Kwakiutl mask (fig. 290). Although the encircling ornament
is explained as a ring made of twisted, shredded cedar bark, it is
obviously essentially ornamental. The circular and spiral designs bring
out the ornamental character most clearly.
[Illustration: PLATE X.
Chilkat Blanket.]
[Illustration: PLATE XI.
Cedarbark Blanket, British Columbia.]
[Illustration: PLATE XII.
Blankets of Mountain-goat Wool.
Bella Coola, British Columbia.]
It seems not unlikely that the symbolic style and the desire to
cover the whole field with ornaments have developed exuberantly only
recently. In early times geometric ornaments were probably more widely
used than is the case now. We shall see presently that they are in
extensive use in basketry.
A number of ancient blankets show that angular geometrical ornaments
played an important part in earlier weaving. Plate X represents
a blanket of mountain-goat wool, in the Ethnological Museum at
Copenhagen, formerly belonging to the old collections in Leningrad.
It is decorated entirely with geometrical designs arranged in
horizontal bands. The same zig-zag pattern in short panels that occupies
alternating bands in this blanket appears in a second ancient blanket
(Pl. XI) which contains also curiously conventionalized faces and
triangular designs. This is a cedar bark blanket in the British Museum
transferred from the United Service Museum about 1868, collected at
Nootka. It has a border in brown and yellow wool (?), consisting of
obtuse triangles, assimilated to an eye design. A series of photographs
of blankets in the hands of Dr. Newcombe of Victoria, British Columbia,
shows that these types were in common use in Bella Coola (Pl. XII, see
also p. 292).
[Illustration: Fig. 290. Mask of Kwakiutl Indians used in winter
ceremonial; according to some representing fool dancer, according to
others The-One-Shining-Down.]
Our consideration of the fixed formal elements found in this art prove
that the principles of geometric ornamental form may be recognized even
in this highly developed symbolic art; and that it is not possible to
assign to each and every element that is derived from animal motives a
significant function, but that many of them are employed regardless of
meaning, and used for purely ornamental purposes.
The symbolic decoration is governed by rigorous formal principles. It
appears that what we have called for the sake of convenience dissection
and distortion of animal forms, is, in many cases, a fitting of animal
motives into fixed ornamental patterns. We infer from a study of form
and interpretation that there are certain purely geometric elements
that have been utilized in the symbolic representation. Most important
among these are the double curve which appears always as a filler in
an oval field with flat base, and the slit which serves to separate
distinct curves. The typical eye design is presumably related to the
circle and dot and may have developed from the double tendency of
associating geometrical motives with animal forms and of the other, of
standardizing forms derived from animal motives as ornamental elements.
This art style can be fully understood only as an integral part
of the structure of Northwest coast culture. The fundamental idea
underlying the thoughts, feelings, and activities of these tribes is
the value of rank which gives title to the use of privileges, most
of which find expression in artistic activities or in the use of art
forms. Rank and social position bestow the privilege to use certain
animal figures as paintings or carvings on the house-front, on totem
poles, on masks and on the utensils of every day life. Rank and social
position give the right to tell certain tales referring to ancestral
exploits; they determine the songs which may be sung. There are other
obligations and privileges related to rank and social position, but
the most outstanding feature is the intimate association between
social standing and art forms. A similar relation, although not quite
so intimate, prevails in the relation of religious activities and
manifestations of art. It is as though the heraldic idea had taken hold
of the whole life and had permeated it with the feeling that social
standing must be expressed at every step by heraldry which, however,
is not confined to space forms alone but extends over literary,
musical and dramatic expression. Who can tell whether the association
between social standing and the use of certain animal forms,—that
is the totemic aspect of social life,—has given the prime impetus
to the art development or whether the art impetus has developed and
enriched totemic life? Our observations make it seem plausible that
the particular symbolic development of art would not have occurred,
if the totemic ideas had been absent and that we are dealing with the
gradual intrusion of ever fuller animal motives into a well established
conventionalized art. On the other hand it seems quite certain that
the exuberance of totemic form has been stimulated by the value given
to the art form. We may observe among all the tribes that high chiefs
claim highly specialized art forms that are built up on the general
background of totemic representation. In the south, there is clear
evidence of the late exuberant development of the totemic, or perhaps
better, crest idea, owing to the strong endeavor to raise by the
possession of art forms the standing of the social units to which the
individual belongs. The multiplicity of forms among the numerous small
divisions of the Kwakiutl and the sporadic appearance of animal forms
among the adjoining Salish are ample proof of these relations.
[Illustration: Fig. 291. Ancient type of Kwakiutl box.]
[Illustration: Fig. 292. _a_, Food tray; _b_, Bucket, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 293. Small boxes, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 294. Combs, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 295. Bone club and sword, Kwakiutl.]
The style has undoubtedly its home in northern British Columbia and
southern Alaska. The manufactures of the tribes of Vancouver Island
show a far more extended use of geometrical ornamentation than those of
the northern tribes. I am under the impression that these are survivals
of an older style. Trays, boxes, and baskets of the Kwakiutl Indians
are still decorated with geometrical patterns. A rattle used in a
ceremony performed after the birth of twins (fig. 19, p. 31) bears a
pattern consisting of angular fields. Ancient boxes found in caves are
ornamented with a geometrical style more elaborate than that of modern
times (fig. 291).
[Illustration: Fig. 296. Spindle whorls.]
[Illustration: Fig. 297. Ladle made of big-horn-sheep horn, Columbia
River.]
The small food trays, the sides of which are bent out of a single
board, bear on the upper end a border pattern consisting of equidistant
lines following the rim, while the body of the sides is ornamented
with vertical lines (fig. 292 _a_). A similar border pattern is found
on buckets (fig. 292 _b_). In boxes a border design is cut in, setting
off the central field (fig. 293). Combs are decorated with geometrical
motives most of which consist of a central rectangular field set off
from the background by parallel lines or developed by a subdivision of
the field. In one case triangles and crossing lines with hachure are
used (fig. 294). On a bone sword the decoration consists of circles
with center, a pattern that is widely distributed among the western
Eskimo, the plateau tribes of the interior and in California (fig.
295). It will be noticed that the head carved at the end of this
specimen does not conform at all to the style of art here discussed
but rather agrees with the carving found in the region of the Gulf of
Georgia and Puget Sound. Another specimen (fig. 295), differs still
more from the style of the Northwest coast art and resembles that of
the tribes of the interior.
[Illustration: Fig. 298. Clubs made of bone of whale, Nootka.]
In the art of the West coast of Vancouver Island, in a few ancient
specimens of the Kwakiutl and particularly in the whole area of the
Gulf of Georgia, a triangular motive analogous to the “Kerbschnitt” of
northern Europe, plays an important role. It is found on the ancient
Kwakiutl boxes previously referred to (fig. 291), and is a common
decorative motive on clubs made of bone of whale (fig. 298). A related
motive is found on spindle whorls (fig. 296). It is also found on
representative wood carvings, as on the eagle design on a house post
from the Fraser River Delta (Plate XIII p. 288). In the region still
farther south, this ornament becomes more and more important, as may be
seen on dishes and spoons from the Columbia River area. On these the
circular design and central dot also occur (fig. 297).
[Illustration: Fig. 299. Clubs made of bone of whale, Nootka and coast
of Salish.]
A number of ancient specimens prove the existence of a fixed art style
in this region, representative, but differing in character from the
style of the Northwest coast. This is best illustrated by a series
of war clubs. The fundamental type is a blade of a lenticular cross
section surmounted by a head resembling that of an eagle, which bears
on its head a bird headdress not unlike what is used by the Nootka of
modern times.[115] In all the specimens represented in figures 298 and
299 this fundamental form will be recognized, although in many cases
the outlines are so crude that the elements of the composition are
recognized with difficulty only. It is possible that in a number of
these carvings it was not the intent to represent the eagle with bird
headdress, but that the form is rather due to the compelling influence
of a standardized form that determined the outlines of the subject
of the representation. Common to these clubs is also the central
ornamental line ending near the point in a circular ornament which is
often given the form of a human head.
[115] See Harlan I. Smith, Archaeology of the Gulf of Georgia and Puget
Sound, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol II,
figs. 165-168.
Representations of animals in wood carving differ also in important
features from those of the northern region. The tendency to ornament
the whole body, the dislike of a plain background is not found here.
If we are right in assuming that the fullest development of a rich
ornamentation in the north is late, we might say that in the south the
ornamentation has not yet encroached upon the whole background. The
eye design, double curve, the slit design are foreign to this area.
Instead of house posts carved in the round, we find heavy posts of
rectangular cross section which bear on the front figures carved in the
round or in high relief. Sometimes the post assumes geometrical forms.
A characteristic trait of the human face in this region is the sharp
angle setting off the forehead from the face. This is most pronounced
in the carvings of the Puget Sound region (fig. 300 and Plate XIV).
[Illustration: Fig. 300. House posts, Lower Fraser River.]
On Puget Sound animal representations are used with great frequency in
basketry, particularly as ornamental borders. In ancient times they
were also applied to hats (fig. 301, see also fig. 72 p. 78). This
style seems to be entirely missing in the north.
[Illustration: PLATE XIII.
House Post near Eburne, Fraser River Delta, British Columbia.]
At the present time the Kwakiutl apply the symbolic style in house
paintings, house posts, and masks. The skill of the artist is not
inferior to that found among the northern tribes, but the subject
matter differs somewhat according to the difference in mythological
concepts. The distortions in painting are, if anything, more daring
than those of the Haida, but I have not observed to the same degree the
tendency to interlock various animal forms, as is done on spoon handles
and totem poles of the northern tribes. On totem poles so far as these
occur, and on house posts the single figures are placed one on top
of the other, but they remain separated. The masks are painted as
elaborately as those of the northern tribes. Double masks and revolving
attachments occur. In short, the decorative art of those objects that
are strictly related to use in totemic and similar ceremonies, have the
northern type, while objects of every day life tend to have geometric
ornamentation. The use of animal forms on large dishes (see fig. 198,
p. 208) is a characteristic trait of this region.
[Illustration: Fig. 301. Basket, Lower Chehalis.]
[Illustration: Fig. 302. Designs on matting, Kwakiutl.]
Historical tradition confirms our view that the northern art type is
of recent introduction among the Kwakiutl. In ancient times the walls
of the houses were built of horizontal, overlapping boards that did
not admit painting, except on separate planks. Old Indians claim that,
until about 1860, the house posts were heavy planks with relief carving
or painting,—like those known to us from Fraser River, and that only
masks were of the same type as those now in use.
While realistic representations are rare among the northern tribes,
they are found quite frequently among the Kwakiutl. They are
principally caricatures that are made and exhibited for the purpose of
ridiculing a rival. A head used in a ceremonial performance has been
referred to before (fig. 156 p. 185).
I have stated that in basketry and matting geometrical ornamentation
is used by all the tribes. It is the style of the woman’s art. On
decorated mats checker designs are made in black and red on the
background of natural color of cedar bark (fig. 302). More elaborate
are the patterns which occur on spruce root weaving, particularly on
hats. These are made by twining, and ornamental lines are developed by
the occasional skipping of two woof strands. By this device lines are
produced which appear raised over the surface of the plain weaving. The
most frequent designs which are made in this way consist of a series of
diamonds and of zig-zag lines. Sometimes these hats are also painted. In
these the woven pattern disappears almost completely under the painted
design (fig. 303).
On the coast of Alaska we find the highest development of the geometric
style.
[Illustration: Fig. 303. Woven hat of spruce root, Kwakiutl.]
[Illustration: Fig. 304. Decorative designs from Tlingit basketry.]
The patterns used on these baskets consist of angular forms, except on
modern placques, and bear names.[116] From the way in which these are
used we may infer that they have no symbolic significance. I give here
a selection of these. Fig. 304 _a_, _b_, _c_, patterns consisting of
zig-zag lines, represent in this order: the woodworm or the woodworm
tracks (_a_), lightning (_b_), the butterfly (_c_). The rectangle
divided by an oblique line, (_d_), represents tracks of the bear;
the dark part of the rectangle may be interpreted as the sole of the
foot; the light part of the rectangle as the claws. The design (_e_)
is called the arrow; (_f_) the rainbow; (_g_) fire weed; and (_h_)
the hood of the raven. Fig. 305 _a_ shows various representations
of the isosceles triangle, some of which are identical with the
forms occurring in California. All of these are called head of the
salmon-berry. The designs _b_, _c_, and _d_, are closely related; (_b_)
is generally used on the narrow central band which separates two broad
design bands; it is called “tying”. Flying geese are represented in
(_c_); tracks of geese in (_d_). The complicated design in (_e_) is
called “raven tail”; the relation between this name and the form is not
clear; (_f_) shows a number of representations of the wave. Designs
(_g_) and (_h_) are from circular placques; (_g_) represents the fern
frond; (_h_) the porpoise. In the last named case the relation between
form and name is obscure.
[116] G. T. Emmons, The Basketry of the Tlingit, Memoirs American
Museum of Natural History. Vol. 3 (1903) pp. 229 et seq.
I have little doubt that the designs are closely related to the blanket
patterns previously referred to and to the porcupine quill embroidery
of the tribes of the interior. The design fig. 304 _h_, for instance,
is found in identical form on the lowest stripe of the Bella Coola
blanket on top of Plate XII. The arrangement of patterns in blocks on
these blankets is also similar to the arrangement found in this type
of basketry. In fact the technique is a kind of embroidery in which
the decorative material is wrapped around the woof strand when the
basket is being made. The materials used are grasses and fern stems of
contrasting color.
[Illustration: Fig. 305. Decorative designs from Tlingit basketry.]
The baskets are round, mostly with almost straight walls. The diameter
is very nearly equal to the height. On the majority of baskets which
are used for berrying and as general receptacles, the patterns are
applied in horizontal bands. The rim of the basket is generally
undecorated. The rim weave which holds the warp together, is in most
cases quite insignificant and does not give a decorative effect. The
only specimen of decorative band at the upper rim, with which I am
familiar, has no color embroidery but has only a zig-zag decoration made
by the process of twilling described before, similar to the pattern
fig. 304 _h_. Most baskets are decorated by a broad band parallel to
the rim, which consists of two wide stripes separated by a narrow one.
These bands are placed at a short distance from the upper rim. (Plate
XIV). The distance is often about equal to the width of the central
band. The designs on the wide upper and lower bands are generally
identical. The central dividing band is in most cases decorated with
small elements arranged in zig-zag lines. In a fairly large number of
cases, only the two outer bands are embroidered, while the central
band remains undecorated. In a few cases the central band is reduced
to a single undecorated line of stitches so that the impression is
conveyed of a single broad band encircling the whole basket. In open
work spoon baskets the central band is placed near the middle of the
basket, while the outer bands are moved to the bottom and to the upper
border. Although some of the designs are of such a character that they
may be used as continuous horizontal bands, there is a marked tendency
of dividing up the circumference into a number of panels which are
separated by straight vertical lines.
A considerable number of the baskets decorated with three bands have
either two or four “droppers”, and in a few cases the design of the
“dropper” is repeated over the upper design. The number of repetitions
of the design in the bands is quite irregular, some of the large
designs are repeated only twice. When there are many repetitions of
the design in the upper and lower band their distribution is generally
quite independent, that is, the upper and lower design elements are not
fitted the one over the other.
Unfortunately there is not enough porcupine embroidery available
that will allow us to investigate in detail the relations between
the patterns used in this industry and in basketry. The designs here
described are akin to the geometrical basketry patterns of other parts
of the Pacific slope and to designs occurring in bead embroidery. They
are entirely foreign to the painting and carving described in the
previous pages.
[Illustration: PLATE XIV.
Tlingit Baskets.]
Northwest Coast culture has exerted its influence over the tribes both
of the north and south. The woodwork of the Columbia River region and
of northern California has undoubtedly been stimulated by its example.
Although the style changes materially, the technique of handling the
wood and the relative abundance of wood carving indicates the
interrelation of these cultures. Taken in conjunction with other
features,—such as the peculiar type of correlation of wealth and rank
and the extensive use of standards of value,—the historical relation
seems firmly established. The art style of woodwork does not exhibit a
close affinity to the North West Coast. We have shown that the older
art of the Gulf of Georgia is quite distinct from that of the North
West Coast. The further south we go the more meager become the vestiges
of the symbolic style here treated.
In the north conditions are somewhat different. Even among the
northern Tlingit tribes some types of masks may be observed that
are conceptionally different from those found further south. They
are characterized by the attachment of small animal figures to the
face,—particularly on the forehead and cheeks. This usage is much
more frequent among the Eskimo tribes.[117] Their masks tend to be
flat and appear like plastic representations of their paintings and
etchings: realistic forms of human or imaginary beings or of animals.
They have adopted from the North West Coast the attachment of parts
of the body to the face, while these parts,—such as hands and feet,
retain their realistic character. The attachment of small animal forms
to the face is quite frequent here. Its source may perhaps be found
in the application of animal heads to carved objects, which is one of
the principle features of the decorative art of the Alaskan Eskimo.
It is exemplified in the needle cases shown in fig. 119, p. 125. The
abundance of masks can hardly be understood unless we assume that the
coast people of the south exerted a powerful influence over the Eskimo.
The eastern Eskimo, among whom this influence is lacking, have few
masks of quite a different type.
[117] Sie E. W. Nelson, The Eskimo about Bering Strait, 18^{th} Ann.
Rep. Bur. Am. Ethn. (1899) Plates 95 et seq.; also the Athapascan
masks from Anvik in J. W. Chapman, Notes on the Tinneh tribe of Anvik,
Congrès International des Americanistes XV^e session, Vol 2, pp. 7 et
seq.
The relation of the North West Coast art to that of the adjoining
plateaus of the interior deserves special consideration. The contrast
between the two is striking. A few of the tribes that have adopted,
partially at least, totemic ideas of the coast people, as the Lillooet,
have taken over with it a moderate amount of carving. A few that have
fallen more fully under the sway of the North West Coast culture, as
the Bella Coola, Babine, and a few of the Alaskan tribes near the coast
of southern Alaska, have also, to a great extent, adopted the art style
of the coast.
[Illustration: Fig. 306. _a_, Rawhide pouch, Salish or Chinook; _b_,
Design from parfleche, Fort Colville, Washington.]
As soon as we move farther inland we find an art that, in its
essential characteristics, is subject to the Plains art. The style and
decoration of the clothing are essentially those of the Plains. Rude
pictography is used extensively. There is hardly any attempt to fit the
pictographic representation to the decorative field that serves merely
as the background on which the representative design is conveniently
placed. Most of the geometric patterns that do occur are closely
related to eastern forms. A rawhide pouch from the interior of British
Columbia (fig. 28, p. 36) may serve as an example. On parfleches and
rawhide pouches from Fort Colville and from Columbia River (fig. 306)
we find the same designs that are characteristic of eastern paintings
on rawhide (see figs. 144-146 pp. 170-172). Analogous forms are found
in bone carvings from the Tahltan in Alaska (fig. 307). In the southern
parts of the plateaus of British Columbia, simple lines and circles
with center are the most common decorative pattern on bone and on wood.
Representative sculpture is rare although a few ancient specimens have
been found. The archaeological remains prove that at an early time the
same art type prevailed in the Delta of Fraser River. The symbolism of
the patterns is very weak, but seems analogous to that found in the
east.
[Illustration: Fig. 307. Scraper of bone, Tahltan.]
[Illustration: Fig. 308. Detail of imbricated basketry.]
Decorative art is most highly developed in basketry. The basketry
of the Coast tribes is made by twining or weaving, but the highly
decorated basketry of the interior is exclusively of the coiled type.
Only among the Sahaptin and other tribes to the southeast do we find
elaborately decorated twined bags. The twined weaving of the interior
of British Columbia is largely undecorated or bears a few lines set
off in lighter color. The coiled weaving is decorated by imbrication,
a method peculiar to that part of the plateaus extending from the
Columbia River to Chilcotin (fig. 308). In this area a number of
decorative art styles have developed. These appear most clearly on the
burden baskets. The southern baskets are round and flaring, those of
southern British Columbia are angular in cross section, those of the
north oblong and of irregular form. The southern baskets are decorated
all over with designs resembling Californian patterns. Those of
the Thompson River have design areas set off against an undecorated
background. The designs are made by imbrication and extend over the
whole side of the basket, evenly on all sides. The Lillooet baskets are
more flaring than those of the Thompson. The coils are wider and the
decorative field is arranged in a different manner. The imbrication is
confined to the upper two-thirds of the basket while the lower part
remains undecorated, except that there are frequently two hangers
on the wide sides which may be compared to the hangers on Tlingit
baskets, described before. I am doubtful whether there is an historical
connection between the two, notwithstanding their striking similarity.
The Indians suggest that the hangers may have developed from the
earlier use of birch bark baskets. These were often wrapped at the
upper part with buckskin the lower portion of which hung down freely in
fringes, so that the droppers would represent the fringes. Many of the
Lillooet designs are large. (Plate XV).
The Chilcotin type differs from the preceding by the small size of
the coil and a distinctive form, the narrow ends being higher than
the middle of the long sides. The treatment of the decorative field
is similar to that used by the Tlingit. The ornamentation consists
of three bands; the upper and the lower ones wide, bearing the same
kind of decorative design and the central one narrower and either
undecorated or showing a design of a different character. Arrangements
of this kind are used so frequently that is seems hardly justifiable to
consider them as proof of an historical connection between Tlingit and
Chilcotin basketry. We find similar arrangements for instance in the
pouches of the Woodland Indians referred to on p. 175, figs. 149, 150.
[Illustration: PLATE XV.
Imbricated Baskets from British Columbia and Washington.]
LITERATURE, MUSIC, AND DANCE.
We shall now turn to a consideration of literature, music and dance. It
is a noticeable fact that a rich literary art is much more universally
distributed than well developed decorative art. While among tribes
like the Bushman and the eastern Eskimo very few manufactured objects
of artistic value are found, these same tribes produce an abundance
of literary work. Volumes of Eskimo lore have been collected and if
it did not require a most intimate knowledge of the people and an
endless amount of patience to collect songs and poems, their number
would undoubtedly equal that of tales. The collections of Bushman lore
are also quite extended. I believe the reason for this difference is
not far to seek. Decorative art requires rest and quiet, a stationary
abode. There must be opportunity to continue steadily the work which
requires the use of tools; or at least there must be a chance to lay it
aside and to take it up again. The life of hunters is not favorable to
the prosecution of such work. First of all the weapons of the hunter
must be kept in order. The supply of provisions is generally so scanty
or the possibility of laying by stores for future use is so limited,
that the hunter is compelled to spend the greater part of every
day in pursuit of the game. Little time remains for domestic work.
Furthermore when camp is shifted which is frequently necessary, bulky,
half finished work can be carried along with difficulty only. It is,
therefore, not surprising that the household goods of the hunter are
few in number and easily transported. The property of a Bushman family
might be carried in two hands.
Quite different are conditions under which literary work and music
develop. It might be imagined that the hunter has just as little
time for poetic work, as for the manufacture of decorated articles.
This opinion is based on an erroneous conception of the work of the
hunter. He is not all the time following strenuously the tracks of
the game, but often he resorts to trapping, or he sits still, waiting
for the game to appear. The Eskimo, for instance, sits for hours by
the breathing-hole of the seal. During such times his fancy is free to
wander and many of his songs take shape during these moments. There are
other times of enforced idleness in which manual work is impossible but
when the people may give free range to their fancy. An instance of this
stands out clearly in my mind: An Eskimo youth was carried away in the
fall on the drifting ice. After a few days he succeeded in reaching
land. During these days of danger and privation he composed a song in
which he mocked his own misfortunes and the hardships he had endured,
a song which appealed to the fancy of the people and which soon became
popular in all the villages.[118]
[118] See Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. 7, p. 50.
“Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
Aya, there is nothing but ice around me, that is good!
Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
My country is nothing but slush, that is good!
Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
Aya, when, indeed, will this end? this is good!
I am tired of watching and waking, this is good!”
We must remember that the first condition for the development of
artistic handicraft is leisure. No matter how strong the art impulse
may be, it cannot find expression so long as man’s time is entirely
taken up by procuring the barest necessities of life. The paleolithic
hunter who painted on the walls of the caves must have been able to
spare sufficient time from the labor of getting his food supply to
devote himself to the joy of painting the animals of the chase. We
recognize in a study of the art products of each people that the amount
they produce is in direct relation to the amount of their leisure.
Therefore tribes that procure their main food supply in one season and
store it up for the rest of the year and who enjoy, therefore, seasons
of leisure, will be found to be most productive in works of art as well
as in ceremonial affairs and other manifestations of social life that
do not contribute to the mere need of food and shelter.
These conditions are more easily fulfilled for those arts that do not
require manual labor than for those based on industrial occupations;
hence the wider distribution of literary art.
The two fundamental forms of literature, song and tale, are found
universally and must be considered the primary form of literary
activity. Poetry without music, that is to say forms of literary
expression of fixed rhythmic form, are found only in civilized
communities, except perhaps in chanted formulas. In simpler cultural
forms the music of language alone does not seem to be felt as an
artistic expression, while fixed rhythms that are sung occur everywhere.
We may even recognize that in all parts of the world songs are found
in which the words are subordinated to music. As we sing tunes without
words, either because the words are not known,—or, more significantly,
on a refrain, on vocables consisting of syllables without meaning,—so
songs carried along on a meaningless burden are found in all parts
of the globe. They are not often recorded because the collection of
material of this kind is quite novel, but the data that we have in hand
prove that the connection between song and burden is universal. The
Eskimo have songs carried along on the syllables _amna aya_, _iya aya_,
and other similar ones. In some cases there is a certain emotional
significance inherent in the burden, as on the Northwest coast of
America where the songs refer to different supernatural beings, each
having its own characteristic syllables: the cannibal spirit _ham ham_,
the grizzly bear _hei hei_ and so on. According to the usual definition
of poetry we should perhaps exclude these songs, but that is impossible
because the transition from songs carried along by the burden alone
and others that contain significant words is quite gradual. In many
cases a single word is introduced at a definite point of the tune and
the verses contain each one single word. This may be the name of the
supernatural being to which the song refers.
Thus we have in British Columbia
Ham ham hamaya, He-who-travels-from-one-end-of-the-world-to-the-other
ham ham.
Ham ham hamaya, The-great-cannibal-of-the-north-end-of-the-world,
ham ham.
Ham ham hamaya, He-who-carries-corpses-to-be-his-food,
ham ham.
In other songs the significant words are more elaborate. They are
phrases fitted to the tunes, often by doing violence to the ordinary
forms of the words. The words are controlled by the tunes. I might
imitate this in the following way:
Instead of “I saw the great spirit travelling about”. We might have
I sawhaw the greaheat sp’rit tra’ling ’bout, ham ham.
This process is not quite unfamiliar to us in so far as we use the
apostrophe for syllables that in ordinary speech are not slurred, when
we expand a long vowel over several tones, when we utilise archaic
pronunciations for the sake of the meter, or when wrong accents are
introduced. Disregard for the words is found also in borrowed songs
which are sung in a language that is not understood and in which the
words (which are usually mispronounced) have only the value of a burden
that may be connected with a certain emotion determined by the use of
the song. All these forms are found everywhere and must therefore be
considered the foundations of poetry.
Primitive poetry is primarily lyric, in many cases dithyrambic, and
elements which express definite coherent ideas are, in all probability,
later developments. Perhaps we may see here an analogy to the growth of
language. In the animal world cries are primarily reactions to emotions
and only indirectly designative. It seems likely that in human speech
the spontaneous emotional cry preceded the designative and so much more
the predicative expression, not by any means in the sense that the
exclamation accounts for the origin of organized speech, but that it is
probably the first form of articulation.
It must not be assumed that the control of the word by music is
characteristic of all primitive song. On the contrary, in recitatives
which are quite common, the words are often controlling and musical
phrases are added or omitted whenever the words require it. Among the
Sioux Indians we find often both tendencies; the words adapted to the
tunes and the tune, on its part, adjusted to the words.[119]
[119] Frances Densmore, Teton Sioux Music, Bull. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. 61,
Washington, 1918; see, for instance No. 38, p. 162.
We might express the results of our considerations in stating that song
is older than poetry and that poetry has gradually emancipated itself
from music.
The relation between music, words and dance are of a similar character.
Primitive literary expression is often, though not by any means always,
accompanied by some kind of motor activity; or certain kinds of motions
may release articulations that take the form of song or of spoken
words. Strong, but controlled emotion finds utterance in movements of
the body and in articulation, and emotional speech releases similar
movements. This may be inferred from the frequent association of song
and dance, of song and games, and of that of gestures and lively
speech. Dance has always remained associated with music, but with the
emancipation of poetry music has lost its close association with the
spoken word.
Primitive artistic prose has two important forms: narrative and
oratory. The form of modern prose is largely determined by the fact
that it is read, not spoken, while primitive prose is based on the art
of oral delivery and is, therefore, more closely related to modern
oratory than to the printed literary style. The stylistic difference
between the two forms is considerable.
Unfortunately most primitive prose has been recorded in European
languages only, and it is impossible to determine the accuracy of the
rendering. In most of the records there is an obvious attempt to adapt
it to the European literary style. Even when the material is available
in the original text we may assume that, at least in the majority of
cases, it does not reach the standard of excellence of the art of
native narrative. The difficulty of phonetic rendering of foreign
languages requires such slowness of dictation that the artistic style
necessarily suffers. The number of collectors who possess complete
mastery of the languages of the natives is altogether too small. The
best approximation to the art of narrative of primitive people is
probably found in those cases in which educated natives write down the
texts, or in the records taken down by missionaries who in long years
of personal, intimate contact with the people have acquired complete
control of their language, and who are willing to give us just what
they hear.
As an example of the difference in style between the free rendering
of a story told in English by an interpreter, and the translation of
a native text I give part of the Twin-Hero story of Sia, as told by
M. C. Stevenson, and the same story as dictated to me in Laguna. Mrs.
Stevenson[120] tells as follows: Upon visiting the plaza the twins
found a large gathering and the housetops were crowded with those
looking at the dance. The boys who approached the plaza from a narrow
street in the village, stood for a time at the entrance. The one
remarked, “I guess all the people are looking at us and thinking we are
very poor boys; see how they pass back and forth and do not speak to
us;” but after a while he said, “We are a little hungry; let us walk
around and see where we can find something to eat.” They looked in all
the houses facing upon the plaza and saw feasting within, but no one
invited them to enter and eat, and though they inspected every house in
the village, they were invited into but one. At this house the woman
said, “Boys, come in and eat; I guess you are hungry.” After the repast
they thanked her, saying, “It was very good.” Then the one said, “You,
woman, and you, man,” addressing her husband, “you and all your family
are good. We have eaten at your house; we give you many thanks; and now
listen to what I have to say. I wish you and all your children to go
off a distance to another house; to a house which stands alone; the
round house off from the village. All of you stay there for a while.”
[120] Matilda Coxe Stevenson, The Sia, 11th Annual Report Bureau of
Ethnology, Washington, 1894, pp. 54-55.
The Laguna version is as follows:[121]
Long ago.—Eh.—Long ago in the north in Whitehouse lived the people. At
that time they had a war dance. At that time, when they were dancing,
Salt-Woman and her grandsons, the Twin-Heroes, were travelling in this
direction searching for a town, yes, some place where nobody would make
dirt, searching for good water standing on the ground; for that they
were searching. At the time they reached Whitehouse the people were
having a war dance. They arrived at the east end of the town, and they
climbed up the ladder, entered after having climbed down, but nobody
said anything to them. Then they climbed up and out again. Again they
climbed down into a house on the west and again they entered, climbing
downward. Here also nobody invited them in and nobody gave them to
eat. Then they climbed up going out and climbed down the ladder. Then
the grandmother spoke thus, “Grandchildren, are you hungry?” said she
to them. Then the Twin-Heroes spoke, “Yes,” they said to her. Then
the grandmother, Salt-Woman, spoke thus, “Now let us go for the last
time, climb up the house to the west.” Thus said Salt-Woman. They
went westward and climbed up, then they climbed down the ladder and
entered. When they had entered the Parrot People were about to eat.
They said, “How is everything?”—“It is well,” said the Parrot People.
“Sit down,” said the Parrot People. Then they sat down and soon they
were satisfied. After a while the one who was the mother of the Parrot
People spoke thus, “Give them to eat,” said she. Then they gave them
to eat and they dipped out the deer meat with a chamber vessel. Then
the one who was the mother spoke thus, “Take this; eat,” said she.
Then Salt-Woman put her hand into the soup that had been dipped out
and she stirred it with her hand and they ate and they were satisfied.
Then the one who was the mother of the Parrot People took it away.
She spoke thus, “I wonder why this soup is so different,” said she.
Then she tasted it. Then the one who was the mother spoke thus, “Oh
my, that soup is very sweet,” said the one who was the mother. Then
Salt-Woman spoke thus, “Behold, go on, dip it out and give it to them
and eat,” said Salt-Woman. Then she dipped out the soup and passed
it about. They sat down there together. Then Salt-Woman took scabs
from her body (which was salt) and she put the salt in for them. Then
Salt-Woman spoke thus, “Let us continue to stir it,” said Salt-Woman.
Then they stirred it and ate. Now Salt-Woman spoke thus, “I tell you
this,” said Salt-Woman, “I am Salt-Woman, there is no sickness on my
body. Is not this my body pure salt?” said Salt-Woman. “Now I also tell
you this,” said Salt-Woman. “How many children have you and how many
families of Parrot People live here?” said Salt-Woman. “Now go ahead
and come in this direction,” said she, “for I am very grateful because
you gave me to eat,” said Salt-Woman. Now the one who was the mother
of the Parrot People went to call her relatives. She brought the whole
number of them. Then she took them down and Salt-Woman spoke thus, “Are
these your relatives, the Parrot People?”—“Yes,” said the one who was
the mother. “Indeed,” she said, “Go ahead, take this basket and give
it to me,” said Salt-Woman. Then she gave the basket to Salt-Woman and
salt came off from her arms and from her feet. Then she picked it up
and put it into the basket. “Take this,” said Salt-Woman, “with this
you will season what you eat.” Then again she spoke thus, “Enough,” she
said, “it is good, thank you. Now we shall climb up and go out from
here. You stay here,” said Salt-Woman, “then, when the Twin-Heroes are
ready we shall open the door after a while.” Thus spoke Salt-Woman.
Then they climbed up and went away and climbed down again. After they
had climbed down outside the children came and looked at them for a
while. The Twin-Heroes were playing thereabouts with a shuttlecock.
Then the children spoke thus, “Boy,” said they, “go ahead, bring me
this shuttlecock,” said the children. Then the younger one of the
Twin-Heroes spoke thus, “Go ahead,” said he, “stand there to the
south under the cotton wood tree.” The children went southward. They
arrived there. Then the children spoke thus, “Go ahead,” they said.
“Now look out,” said the elder one of the Twin-Heroes, “I throw the
shuttlecock southward.” When it arrived at the south where they stood,
the shuttlecock fell down between them. Then all were turned into
chaparral jays. All flew upward. Then Salt-Woman and her grandchildren
went to the south. They arrived in the south. Then the elder one of
the Twin-Heroes stood up. He took up his shuttlecock in his turn.
The younger one said, “Now, look out, it is my turn. Let me make
the shuttlecock fly to the north.”—“Go ahead,” said the elder one.
The younger one made the shuttlecock fly northward. In the north it
reached the plaza and when the shuttlecock fell down the people were
transformed into stones. Then Salt-Woman spoke thus, “Enough,” said
she, “Now go ahead to the house of the Parrot People and open the door.”
[121] Franz Boas, Keresan Texts, Publications of the American
Ethnological Society, Vol. 8, p. 17.
Another example may not be amiss. Dr. Ruth Benedict recorded the
following as part of the creation myth from a Zuni Indian who has a
good command of English:
“The Two came to the fourth world. It was dark there; they could see
nothing. They met a man; he was naked and his body was covered with
green slime, he had a tail, and a horn on his forehead. He took them to
his people. The Two said to them, “In the upper world there is no one
to worship the sun. He has sent us down to you to take you out to the
world above.” They said, “We are willing. In this world we cannot see
one another, we step upon one another, we urinate upon one another, we
spit upon one another, we throw refuse upon one another. It is nasty
here, we do not want to stay. We have been waiting for someone to lead
us out. But you must go to the priest of the north; we want to know
what he has to say.”
They took them to the priest of the north. He said to them, “What is it
that you have come to say?”—“We want you to come out into the upper
world.”—“We are willing to go. In this world we cannot see, we step
upon one another, we urinate upon one another, we throw refuse upon
another, we spit upon one another. It is nasty here, we do not want to
stay. We have been waiting for someone to lead us out. But you must go
to the priest of the west; we want to know what he has to say.” (This
is repeated for the priests of the six directions.)
Cushing[122] has rendered the same incident as follows:
“Anon in the nethermost of the four cave-wombs of the world, the seed
of men and the creatures took form and increased; even as within eggs
in warm places worms speedily appear, which growing, presently burst
their shells and become as may happen, birds, tadpoles, or serpents, so
did men and all creatures grow manifoldly and multiply in many kinds.
Thus the lowermost womb or cave-world, which was Anosin tehuli (the
womb of sooty depth or of growth-germination, because it was the place
of first formation and dark as a chimney at night time, foul too, as
the internals of the belly) thus did it become overfilled with being.
Everywhere were unfinished creatures, crawling like reptiles one over
another in filth and black darkness, crowding thickly together and
treading each other, one spitting on another or doing other indecency,
insomuch that loud became their murmurings and lamentations, until many
among them sought to escape, growing wiser and more manlike.”
[122] Frank H. Cushing, Zuni Creation Myths, 13th Annual Report of the
Bureau of American Ethnology, p. 381.
I think these examples demonstrate that it is not easy to discover
from published material the stylistic pattern of primitive narrative.
Sometimes the rendering is bald and dry owing to the difficulties of
expression that the interpreter cannot overcome; sometimes elaborated
in a superimposed literary style that does not belong to the original.
In free prose narrative particular stress is laid upon the completeness
of the succession of events. Both Pueblo and Kwakiutl informants
criticize tales from this point of view. A Pueblo will say, “You
cannot say, ‘he entered the house,’ for he must first climb up the
ladder, then down into the house. He must greet those present properly
and receive the proper courteous reply.” None of these steps may be
omitted. This is illustrated by the example of the Laguna tale referred
to before (see p. 305). The Kwakiutl cannot say, “Then he spoke,” but
they would say “Then he arose, spoke and said.” They do not allow a
person to arrive at a place without first letting him start and travel.
An epic diffusiveness, an insistence on details is characteristic of
most free primitive narrative.
Besides these free elements, primitive prose contains passages of fixed
form which are, to a great extent, the source of its attractiveness
to the hearer. Quite often these passages consist of conversation
between the actors and in these, deviations from the fixed formula, are
not permitted. In other cases they are of rhythmic form and must be
considered poetry, chants or songs rather than prose.
In almost all reliable collections the fixed, formal parts are of
considerable importance. In a few cases, as among the Wailaki of
California, the connective text disappears almost completely.
In contrast to the fullness of the free narrative these formal parts
are apt to be so brief that they are obscure unless the significance
of the story is known to the hearers. Examples of these are the brief
tales of the Eskimo. In Cumberland Sound I recorded the following
example:[123] a tale of a woman and the Spirit of the Singing-House.
“Where is its owner? Where is its master? Has the singing-house an
owner? Has the singing-house a master? It has no owner.”—“Here he is,
there he is.”—“Where are his feet? Where are the calves of his legs?
Where are his knees? Where are his thighs?”—“Here they are, there
they are.”—“Where is his stomach?”—“Here it is, there it is.”—“Where
is his chest? Where is his arm? Where is his neck? Where is his
head?”—“Here it is, there it is.” He had no hair.
[123] Journal of American Folk-lore, Vol. 7, (1894), p. 45.
This means that the woman felt for the supernatural owner of the
singing-house. He is supposed to have bandy legs, no hair and no
occipital bone. To touch his soft head is immediate death.
The same observation may be made in formulas of the Chukchee.[124]
[124] W. Bogoras, Publications of Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol.
VIII, Chukchee Texts, p. 133.
“I call Raven. My abdomen I make into a bay. The bay is frozen.
Icebound rubbish is there. All this rubbish is frozen in the ice of
the bay. It is the disease of my stomach. Oh, you my stomach, you are
full of pain. I make you into a frozen bay, into an old ice floe,
into a bad ice floe.
“Oh, Oh! I call to Raven. You Raven travel around from very remote
times. I want your assistance. What are you going to do with this bay
that is frozen? Mischievous people made it freeze; you have a strong
beak, what are you going to do?”
Sometimes these parts of tales are in an archaic form, or in a
foreign language, so that they may be quite unintelligible. Their
impressiveness rests on the form and the general emotional trend of the
passages in which they occur.
When such passages are discourse they are probably the best material
for the study of literary style.
From these remarks let us turn to a few general characteristics
of literary style, first of all to a consideration of rhythm and
repetition.
The investigation of primitive narrative as well as of poetry proves
that repetition, particularly rhythmic repetition, is one of its
fundamental, esthetic traits.
It is not easy to form a just opinion regarding the rhythmic character
of formal prose; in part because the rhythmic sense of primitive people
is much more highly developed than our own. The simplification of the
rhythm of modern folk song, and of poetry intended to appeal to popular
taste, has dulled our feeling for rhythmic form. I have referred to
this question before when discussing the complexity of rhythm in
decorative art. It requires careful study to understand the structure
of primitive rhythm, more so in prose than in song, because in this
case the help of the melodic pattern is lacking.
Rhythmic repetition of contents and form is found commonly in
primitive narrative. For example, the tales of the Chinook Indians
are often so constructed that five brothers, one after another, have
the same adventure. The four elder ones perish while the youngest
one emerges safe and successful. The tale is repeated verbatim for
all the brothers, and its length, which to our ear and to our taste
is intolerable, probably gives pleasure by the repeated form.[125]
Conditions are quite similar in European fairy tales relating to the
fates of three brothers, two of whom perish or fail in their tasks,
while the youngest one succeeds. Similar repetitions are found in the
German tale of Redridinghood, in the widely spread European story of
the rooster who goes to bury his mate, or in the story of the three
bears. In Oriental tales the incidents of the tale are sometimes
repeated verbatim being retold by one of the heroes.
[125] Franz Boas, Chinook Texts, Bull. Bur. of Ethnol. Washington D.
C., (1894), pp. 9 et seq.
A few additional examples taken from the narratives of foreign people
will illustrate the general occurrence of the tendency to repetition.
In the Basuto tale called Kumonngoe a man leads his daughter into
the wilderness where she is to be devoured by a cannibal. On the way
he meets three animals and the son of a chief. In each case the same
conversation ensues. “Where are you leading your daughter?”—“Ask
herself, she is grown up.” She replies:
“I have given to Hlabakoane, Kumonngoe,[126]
To the herd of our cattle Kumonngoe
I thought our cattle were going to stay in the kraal, Kumonngoe,
And so I gave him my father’s Kumonngoe.”
[126] The girl had a brother named Hlabakoane, to whom she had given a
magical food, called Kumonngoe, that belonged to her father and that
the girl had been forbidden to touch. E. Jacottet, The Treasury of
Basuto Lore, Vol. 1, (1908), p. 114.
In an Omaha tale[127] of a Snake-Man it is related that a man flees
from a serpent. Three helpers in succession give him moccasins which,
on the following morning return of their own accord to their owners,
and every time the same conversation is repeated. When the serpent goes
in pursuit it asks every animal for information in exactly the same
words. In a tradition of the Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island the same
formula is repeated forty times together with the description of the
same ceremonial. In the tales of the Pueblo Indians the same incident
is repeated four times as happening to four sisters; the yellow, red,
blue, and white girls. In a Siberian tale of the Hare we hear that a
hunter hides under the branches of a fallen willow tree. One hare after
another appears in order to browse, espies the hunter and runs away.
In a Papua tale from New Guinea the birds come one after another and
try to peck open the stomach of a drowned person so as to let run out
the water that he has swallowed. Still more markedly appears this type
of repetition in a tale from New Ireland. The birds try to throw the
casuary off from the branch of a tree on which he is perched. In order
to accomplish this, one after another alights on the same branch next
to the casuary but nearer the trunk. Thus he is compelled to move out
farther and farther until finally he drops down.
[127] James Owen Dorsey, The Thegiha Language, Contributions to North
American Ethnology, Vol. VI, (1890), Washington D. C., p. 284.
Much more striking are the rhythmic repetitions in songs. Polynesian
genealogies offer an excellent example. Thus we find in Hawaii the
following song:[128]
Lii-ku-honua, the man,
Ola-ku-honua, the woman,
Kumo-honua, the man,
Lalo-honua, the woman,
and so on through sixteen pairs.
[128] Fornander Collection of Hawaiian Antiquities and Folk-lore. Mem.
Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum, Vol. VI, Honolulu, (1919), p. 365.
Or in a cradlesong of the Kwakiutl Indians:[129]
“When I am a man, then I shall be a hunter, o father! ya ha ha ha.
When I am a man, then I shall be a harpooneer,
o father! ya ha ha ha.
When I am a man, then I shall be a canoe-builder,
o father! ya ha ha ha.
When I am a man, then I shall be a carpenter, o father! ya ha ha ha.
When I am a man, then I shall be an artisan, o father! ya ha ha ha.
That we may not be in want, o father, ya ha ha ha.”
[129] Franz Boas, Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, 35th An. Rep. Bur. Am.
Ethn., Washington, 1921, p. 1310.
In the Eskimo song of the raven and the geese, the raven sings:[130]
Oh, I am drowning, help me!
Oh, now the waters reach my great ankles.
Oh, I am drowning, help me!
Oh, now the waters reach my great knees.
and so on through all the parts of the body, up to the eyes.
[130] W. Thalbitzer, The Ammassalik Eskimo, Meddelelser om Grønland,
Vol. XL, p. 211. Compare before p. 309, for a similar formula from
Cumberland Sound.
Quite remarkable is the analogy between this song and the following
Australian war song:
Spear his forehead
Spear his chest
Spear his liver
Spear his heart, etc.
Rhythmic variations of a similar type develop also in oratory when a
number of persons are addressed in the same formal way: As an example
may serve the following address in a Kwakiutl speech:
Now you will witness, Northerners,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
Now you will witness, Great Kwakiutl,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
Now you will witness, Rich Side,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
[131] These are names of tribes, Columbia Contributions to
Anthropology, III, p. 140.
or:
“I have come Northerners; I have come Great Kwakiutl,
I have come Rich Side.”[132]
[132] Ibid., p. 142.
The repetitions discussed so far are rhythmic in form, varied in
contents. They may be compared to an orderly succession of decorative
motives that agree in the plan of the unit, but vary in details. In
poetry rhythmic repetitions of identical formal units are frequent.
These occur in all songs without words, consisting of vocables only.
An example of this is a Kwakiutl canoe song in which every syllable is
sung with one stroke of the paddles:
Aw, ha ya ha ya hä
ha ya he ya ä
he ya ha ya ä
A, ha ya ha ya hä
aw, ha ya he ya hä
he ya ha ya hei
ya hä
hä hä wo wo wo.
They are also found in introductions to many songs in which the tune is
carried by vocables as an introduction to the words of the song:[133]
Mai hamama.
Haimama hamamai hamamamai.
Hamama hamamayamai
Haimama hamamai hamamamai.
[133] The Social Organization and the Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl
Indians; Rep. U. S. National Mus. for 1895, Washington, 1897, p. 703.
Rhythm is not confined to the larger units, but is applied as an
artistic device in the detailed structure. In exhortative speech some
tribes develop a rhythmic form by adding a strongly accented syllable
to each word. The Kwakiutl use the strongly accented ending ai for this
purpose and I may imitate the impression of their speech by saying,
Welcome-ai! brothers-ai! at my feast-ai! Here the time for each word
group ending in _ai_ is approximately equal, or the words leading up to
the ending _ai_ are at least pronounced with great rapidity when they
contain a longer phrase.
In the recital of myths rhythmic structure is sometimes attained by
the addition of meaningless syllables that transform the recital into
a chant. Thus the Fox Indians will add in the recital of the Culture
Hero legend, the syllables nootchee, nootchee. A. L. Kroeber and Leslie
Spier tell us that the myths of Southern California are chanted. Edward
Sapir has observed the Song recitative in Paiute mythology, each animal
speaking according to a definite rhythm and tune to which the text is
adjusted.[134] I have recorded an Eskimo tale from Cumberland Sound in
which the travels of the hero are recorded in a chant with interspersed
melodic phrases.[135] In wails the repetition of the formal cry of
moaning at short intervals and the rapid, even pronunciation of the
recital creates rhythmic structure.
[134] Song Recitative in Paiute Mythology, Journal American Folk-lore,
Vol. 23, pp. 455 et seq.
[135] F. Boas, Bull. A. M. N. H. Vol. 15, pp. 335, 340, tune in Sixth
Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, p. 655, no. 13.
Much stricter than in prose is the rhythmic structure of song. It is
often assumed that regularity of musical rhythm, which is found in most
primitive music, is due to the multiplicity of motor actions connected
with the music, particularly to the close relation between music and
dance. It is true that primitive song is often accompanied by movements
of the body,—a swinging of the whole trunk, movements of head, feet,
and arms; hand clapping and stamping; but it is an error to assume that
for these the same synchronism prevails to which we are accustomed.
With us the stamping and clapping of hands coincides with the accent
of the song. Some tribes innervate so that the innervation for the
articulation and for the movement of hands or feet coincide. This habit
has the effect of letting the clapping, drumming, or stamping follow
the accent of the song. It is also not a rare occurrence that the
rhythmic pattern of body movements and of song are not homologous, but
that they are interrelated in different ways or sometimes even seem to
be quite independent. Negro music as well as that of Northwest America
offers many examples of this kind.
Although the problem involved in the structure of primitive poetry is
better understood now than it was a few years ago, and although many
energetic efforts are being made to obtain adequate collections, the
material for the study of this subject is still quite insufficient.
Travellers are rarely trained in the art of recording songs and are apt
to give us only the simplest forms that offer the least difficulties,
or to summarize their observations in descriptions that are altogether
too often misleading. Exact observations show that rhythmic complexity
is quite common. Regular rhythms consist of from two to seven parts,
and much longer groupings occur without recognizable regularity of
rhythmic structure. Their repetition in a series of verses proves that
they are fixed units.
On account of the physiologically determined emotional quality of
rhythm it enters into all kinds of activities that are in any way
related to emotional life. Its exciting effect manifests itself in
religious songs and dances. Its compelling control may be observed in
war songs; its soothing effect appears in melodies; its esthetic value
is seen in song and decorative art. The origin of rhythm must not be
looked for in religious and social activities but the effect of rhythm
is akin to the emotional states connected with them and, therefore,
arouses them and is aroused by them.
I believe the great variety of forms in which rhythmic repetition of
the same or similar elements is used, in prose and in poetry as a
rhythm of time, in decorative art as a rhythm of space,—shows that
Bücher’s theory according to which all rhythm is derived from the
movements accompanying work cannot be maintained, certainly not in its
totality. Wundt derives the rhythm of the songs used in ceremonies from
the dance, that of the working song from the movements required in the
performance of work,—a theory practically identical with that proposed
by Bücher, since the movements of the dance are quite homologous
to those of work. There is no doubt that the feeling for rhythm is
strengthened by dance and the movements required in the execution of
work, not only in the common work of groups, of individuals who must
try to keep time, but also in industrial work, such as basketry or
pottery that require in their execution regularly repeated movements.
The repetitions in prose narrative as well as the rhythms of decorative
art, so far as they are not required by the technique, are proof of
the inadequacy of the purely technical explanation. The pleasure given
by regular repetition in embroidery, painting, and the stringing of
beads cannot be explained as due to technically determined, regular
movements, and there is no indication that would suggest that this kind
of rhythm developed later than the one determined by motor habits.
It is a precarious undertaking to discuss the characteristics of
primitive poetic forms, partly because so little reliable material
is available, but partly also on account of the impossibility of
obtaining a fair insight into the meaning and value of literary
expression without an intimate knowledge of the language and culture
in which they have come into being. For this reason I shall base
the following remarks principally upon observations of the Kwakiutl
tribe, a tribe with whose language and culture I am familiar. It would
be unjustifiable to generalize and to claim that the traits that I
am going to discuss are characteristic of all primitive literature.
On the contrary, as our knowledge of primitive literature expands,
individuality of style will certainly be found to prevail. Still it
seems likely that features which are analogous to our own literary
devices may disclose general tendencies.
Emphasis of salient points is used extensively in Kwakiutl prose and
song. Stress is most frequently given by repetition. I give a few
examples culled from speeches: “Indeed, indeed, true are the words of
the song, of my song, sung for you, tribe.”[136]
[136] Contributions to the Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, Columbia
University Contributions to Anthropology, Vol. 3, p. 194, line 25.
“He is a kind chief who is kind, speaking kindly to those who have him
for a chief.”[137]
[137] Ibid., p. 258, line 24.
“Now is finished the song of my chief. Finished is the great one.”[138]
[138] Ibid., p. 268, line 25.
“Now you will give the name Great-Inviter to Inviter who has come out
of her room, her who has been made a princess, her who is all over a
princess on account of this that has been done by this chief who has
her for a princess.”[139]
[139] Ibid., p. 308, line 3.
In songs repetitions are much more frequent than in speech. I give a
few examples:
“Wa, out of the way! Waw haw hawa, Wa, out of the way! Ah, do not in
vain ask for mercy, Waw haw hawa! Ah, do not in vain ask for mercy and
raise your hands.”[140]
[140] Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, Thirty-fifth Annual Report Bur. Am.
Ethn., p. 1288.
Another example is the following:
“I am the only great tree in the world, I the chief: I am the only
great tree in the world, I the chief.
I am the great chief who vanquishes, Ha, ha, I am the great chief who
vanquishes, Ha, ha!”[141]
[141] Ibid., p. 1290.
Emphasis may be obtained by placing the word to be emphasized at the
end of one phrase and by beginning the next phrase with the same word.
There are also many emphatic particles. The closing _ai_ referred to
before, used in exhortative oratory, belongs to this group. Verbal
affixes meaning “really”, “indeed”, and the like are used informal
speech to give proper strength to the whole expression. In a wail a
woman chants: “Haha, hanane, now really I do this, I remember my real
past forefathers and really my great grandfathers and now really I will
go on with my family-myth here, telling of this, of my beginning in the
beginning of the world, of the chief who come up in this world, haha,
hanane; and really this was my ancestor who really was going about
spouting.”[142]
[142] Ibid., p. 836.
In Africa the telling of a story is enlivened by affirmative
exclamations of the audience. When the narrator says, “The turtle
killed the leopard,” the audience will repeat, clapping their hands,
“The leopard, the leopard.”
Emphasis is also given by an accumulation of synonyms. Alternate terms
are often used in this manner and in the original they often have an
added rhythmical value on account of the homology of their form. Thus
the Kwakiutl sings in a laudatory chant: “I greatly fear our chief, oh
tribes! I tremble on account of this great means of trying to cause
fear, of this great means of trying to cause terror, of this greatest
cause of terror.”[143]
[143] Ibid., p. 1287.
“I shall break, I shall let disappear the great Copper, the property of
the great foolish one, the great extravagant one, the great surpassing
one, the one farthest ahead, the greatest Spirit-of-the-Woods among the
chiefs.”[144]
[144] By “copper” is meant one of the valuable plates of
copper that are considered the “highest” kind of property. The
“Spirit-of-the-Woods” is the symbol of wealth and power, Ibid., p. 1288.
The beginning or the end of a rhythmic unit is often marked by an
interjection like the “haha hanane” of the wail previously quoted, or
by the repetition of the same word. Both these forms occur often in
love songs:
Ye ya aye ya! You are hard hearted, you who say that you love me,
You are hard hearted, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! You are cruel, you who say that you are lovesick
for me, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! When are you going to talk my love? my dear![145]
[145] Ibid., p. 1301.
or in a shaman’s song:[146]
I have been told to continue to heal him by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to keep on putting the hemlock ring
over him by the Shaman-of-the-Sea,
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to put back into our friend his soul, by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to give him long life, by the Long-Life-
Giver-of-the-Sea, the Chief-of-High-Water,
the Good Supernatural Power.
[146] Ibid., p. 1296.
Symmetry in the rigid sense of the term does not exist in the arts
built on time sequences. A reversion of time sequence is not felt as
symmetry in the same way as a reversion of space sequence where every
point has its equivalent point. In time sequences we have a feeling for
symmetry only for the order of repetition and structural phrases. The
following Negro poem will illustrate this:
Ko ko re ko kom on do!
Girl gone, him no gone,
Ko ko re ko kom on do![147]
[147] Martha Warren Beckwith, Jamaica Anansi Stories, Memoirs. Amer.
Folk-lore Soc., Vol. 17 (1924) p. 107.
It seems, however that in primitive recitative poetry and music this
form is not as frequent as in modern folk song or in modern poetry.
The effect of poetry and oratory depends in part on the use of
metaphor. It is hardly possible to discuss this in a generalized way,
because the appreciation of metaphor requires a most intimate knowledge
of the language in which it occurs. Apparent absence of metaphor is
undoubtedly more likely due to imperfect records than to an actual
absence of figures of speech. It is quite striking that it is difficult
to find metaphorical expressions in American Indian literature,
although it is undoubtedly a feature of their oratory. The whole naming
system of most American Indians proves their feeling for figurative
speech.
Here also I may be permitted to confine my remarks to the use of
metaphor among the Kwakiutl with whose speech forms I am fairly
familiar. Metaphorical expressions are used particularly when
describing the greatness of a chief or of a warrior. The chief is
compared to a mountain; a precipice (from which rolls down wealth
overwhelming the tribes); a rock which cannot be climbed; the post of
heaven (who supports the world); the only great tree (that raises its
crown over the lesser trees of the woods or that rises in lonely height
on an island); a loaded canoe at anchor; the one who makes the whole
world smoky (from the fire in the house in which he gives feasts); the
thick tree; the thick root (of the tribe). It is said that through his
great acts he burns up the tribes, a term which is primarily used for
the warrior. The people follow him as the young sawbill-ducks follow
the mother bird. He makes the people suffer with his short-life maker;
he shoves away the tribes. His rival whom he tries to vanquish is
called, he with ruffled feathers; the one whom he puts across his back
(like a wolf carrying a deer); the one with lolling tongue; the one who
loses his tail (like the salmon); the spider woman; old dog; mouldy
face; dry face; broken piece of copper.
Greatness of a chief is called the weight of his name; when he marries
a princess he lifts her weight from the floor; his wealth of blankets
is a mountain that rises through our heavens; in the feast surrounded
by his tribe, he stands on his fortress. Wealth that he acquires is a
salmon that he catches.
When following ancient customs the people walk the road laid out for
them by their ancestors.
The warrior or a person of ill temper is called “hellebore”. The
warrior is also called “the double-headed serpent of the world”.
Metaphorical terms are an important element in the speeches
accompanying public purchases, particularly the purchase of valuable
“coppers”. Many of these terms are accompanied by symbolic actions. The
first part of the payment in the purchase of a copper is called the
pillow or mattress on which the copper is to rest or the harpoon line
by which it is hauled in. The purchase itself is called “shoving” that
means pushing the value of the purchase under the name of the purchaser
who is thus raised in rank. At the end of the transaction the seller
gives to the purchaser a certain number of blankets (which are the
standard of value) as a “belt” to hold up the blankets (in which the
purchase price is reckoned); as boxes in which to store these blankets;
and finally he gives an amount as a dress for his dancer (that is his
female relative who dances for him on festive occasions).
When a person gives a great feast for his rival he extinguishes the
fire of his rival’s house; his feast steps up to the fire in the middle
of the house. If he surpasses his rival in liberality, his feast steps
across the fire and reaches the rear of the house where the chief is
seated.
Presents for a bride are a packline to carry her property; a mat on
which she is to sit; and a mast for her canoe.
I do not mention here the many euphemistic terms for sickness and
death, except a few that are used in speeches: the dead chief has gone
to take a rest; he has disappeared from this world; he stays away; or
he lies down.
Metaphorical figures in songs are not rare. Of the death of a renowned
man who was drowned, it is said in his mourning song:
“It deprived me of my mind, when the moon went down
at the edge of the waters”.[148]
[148] Ethnology of the Kwakintl, 35th Ann. Rep. Bur Am. Ethn. p. 1292.
And in another mourning song[149]:
Hana, hana, hana. It broke down, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. It fell down to the ground, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. Our great chief has taken a rest.
Hana, hana, hana. Now our past chief has fallen down.
[149] Boas, Kwakiutl Ethnology, Columbia University Contributions to
Anthropology. Vol. III, p. 77.
In a feast-song the chief is compared to the salmon[150]:
The great one will not move, the greatest one, the great
Spring Salmon.
Go on, great one, hurt the young children, the humble sparrows
who are being teased by you, great Spring Salmon.
[150] Ibid., p. 123.
In another feast-song the rivals are compared to insects[151]:
I am a chief, I am a chief, I am your chief, yours,
who you are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little flies that
are flying about.
I am too great to be desired as food by those little
horseflies that are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little mosquitoes
that are flying about.
[151] Ibid., p. 129.
In still another song he is compared to a tree[152]:
A great cedar dancer is our chief, our tribes.
It cannot be spanned, our great chief, our tribes.
My chief here from long ago, from the beginning of the
myth time, for you, tribes.
[152] Ibid., p. 197.
A number of sayings of the Tsimshian present also good cases of the
use of metaphor. “A deer though toothless, may accomplish something”;
“he is just sleeping on a deerskin” (i. e. not expecting approaching
hardships); “it seems you think that Nass River is always calm” (i.
e. that you will always be fortunate); “he is just enjoying the water
lilies for a short time” (as a bear feeding on water lilies and about
to be killed by the hunter who lies in ambush).[153]
[153] Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. 2 (1889), p. 285.
Examples of metaphor may be found here and there in songs and speeches.
The Osage sing:
Ho! Toward what shall they (the little ones) direct their footsteps,
it has been said in the house.
It is toward a little valley they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not a little valley that is spoken of,
It is toward the bend of a river they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not the bend of a river that is spoken of,
It is toward a little house that they shall direct their footsteps.
The valley and the bend of the river represent the path of life which
is pictured as crossing four valleys or as following the course of the
river having four bends.[154] This concept also finds expression in the
decorative art of the Indians of the Plains.[155]
[154] Francis La Flesche, The Osage Tribe, The Rite of Vigil, 39th Ann.
Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnology, Washington 1925, p. 258.
[155] A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bulletin Am. Uns. Nat. Hist. Vol. 18,
Plate 16, p. 100; Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians,
Ibid., p. 242, fig. 77.
Another metaphor is used in the following illustration:
Upon whom shall we slip off our moccasins? they said to one another,
it has been said in this house.
Toward the setting sun,
There is an adolescent youth,
Upon whom we shall always slip off our moccasins, they said to one
another, it has been said in this house.
Here the slipping off of moccasins means the crushing and killing of
the enemy, here personified in the adolescent youth.[156]
[156] Francis La Flesche, Ibid., p. 84.
In the speech containing the migration legend of the Creek, the
head-chief Chekilli said: “The Cussetaws cannot yet leave their
red hearts, which are, however, white on one side and red on the
other”.[157]
[157] Albert S. Gatschet, A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians,
Philadelphia, 1884; p. 251.
James Mooney records the following formula for success in hunting.
obtained from the Cherokee.[158]
Give me the wind. Give me the breeze. Yu! O Great Terrestrial Hunter,
I come to the edge of your spittle where you repose. Let your stomach
cover itself; let it be covered with leaves. Let it cover itself at a
single bend, and may you never be satisfied.
And you, O Ancient Red, may you hover above my breast while I sleep.
Now let good (dreams?) develop; let my expressions be propitious. Ha!
Now let my little trails be directed, as they lie down in various
directions (?). Let the leaves be covered with the clotted blood, and
may it never cease to be so. You two shall bury it in your stomachs.
Yu.
[158] James Mooney, The Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees, Seventh
Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, p. 369.
In this formula the gods of the hunt, fire and water are called upon.
The Great Terrestrial Hunter is the river, its spittle the foam; the
blood-stained leaves on which the game has been killed are to cover
the surface of the water. The hunter asks that all the game may be
assembled at one bend of the river which is supposed to long for
evermore. In the second part, the Ancient Red is the fire. It hovers
over the breast because the hunter rubs his chest with ashes. The
blood-stained leaves are thrown into the fire and into the water which
is expressed by having them buried in the stomach.
The contents of primitive narrative, poetry and song are as varied as
the cultural interests of the singers. It does not seem admissible
to measure their literary value by the standards of the emotions
that they release in us. We ought to inquire in how far they are an
adequate expression of the emotional life of the natives. To primitive
man, hunger is something entirely different from what it is to us
who ordinarily do not know what the pangs of hunger mean, who do not
realize all the implications of starvation. If a people like the
Bushmen or the Eskimo sing of their joy after a successful hunt and
after a hearty meal, if the Orang Semang of the Malay Peninsula sing
of the gathering of fruit and of the successful hunt, the connotation
of these songs is no different from that of a harvest song. We are too
easily mislead by the concreteness of the picture and assume that the
emotional connotation that we require in poetry must be absent. Even
among ourselves a graphic passage in a lyric poem does not by any means
always release a definite, mental image but appeals rather through the
feelings engendered by the descriptive terms. For this reason we must
necessarily assume that the emotional setting of the picture is the
essential poetic element for the singer, not the objective terms that
alone appeal to us because we are not familiar with the emotions of
every day native life. We feel only the graphic value of the words. The
much-quoted Semang[159] song represents a good example:
Our fruit grows plump at the end of the spray.
We climb along and cut it from the end of the spray.
Plump, too, is the bird (?) at the end of the spray.
And plump the young squirrel at the end of the spray.
[159] W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay
Peninsula, Vol. 1 (1906), p. 627.
This song which deals with plants and animals serving as food, should
be compared with another one that is more readily appreciated by us:
The stem bends as the leaves shoot up.
The leaf-stems sway to and fro.
To and fro they sway in diverse ways.
We rub them and they lose their stiffness.
On Mount Inas they are blown about.
On Mount Inas which is our home.
Blown about by the light breeze.
Blown about is the fog (?).
Blown about is the haze.
Blown about are the young shoots.
Blown about is the haze of the hills,
Blown about by the light breeze.
etc.
If we feel the latter as a more poetic type it is presumably only
because we cannot share the feelings aroused in the Orang Semang by the
reference to the efforts in gathering fruit and in hunting animals. The
effectiveness of poetry does not depend upon the power of expressive
description that releases clear mental images, but upon the energy with
which words arouse the emotions.
It is misleading to compare primitive poetry that has been recorded by
collectors with the literary poetry of our times. The coarse sexual
songs or drinking songs that do not form part of our polite literature,
are quite on a par with the songs that may be heard in primitive
society in the company of lusty young men or excited young women and
their prevalence in existing collections is, in all probability, merely
due to the inability of the collector to approach the natives in
moments of religious devotion, of tender love, or poetic exaltation. In
many cases it is quite obvious that some of the songs collected were
made to make fun of the collector. It is not admissible to build on
the meagre evidence that we possess, a system of development of lyrics
in which the coarse forms, the exuberant spirits of every day life are
mistaken for the expression of the highest poetic achievement. In all
those cases in which fuller collections are available, as in America
for instance from the Omaha, Eskimo, Kwakiutl, and from some of the
southwestern tribes, there is ample evidence of poetic feeling that
moves on higher planes.
Still, poetic susceptibility is not the same everywhere, neither in
form nor in intensity. The local culture determines what kind of
experiences have a poetic value and the intensity with which they act.
I select as an example the difference between the descriptive style
found in Polynesia and that of many Indian traditions. In the Fornander
collection of Hawaiian tales we read: “They admired the beauty of his
appearance. His skin was like to a ripe banana. His eyeballs were like
the young buds of a banana. His body was straight and without blemish
and he was without an equal.” In the story of Laieikawai it is said: “I
am not the mistress of this shore. I come from inland, from the top of
the mountain which is clothed in a white garment.” It would be a vain
task to search for similar passages in the literature of many Indian
tribes. The American Indians differ considerably among themselves in
regard to this trait. Tsimshian tales are rich when compared to the
barrenness of the descriptive tales of the Plateau tribes.
Poetic descriptions appear more frequently in songs. However even these
are not found everywhere. The songs of the Indians of the Southwest
suggest that the phenomena of nature have impressed the poet deeply,
although it must be remembered that most of his descriptive terms are
stereotyped ceremonial expressions.
As an example I give the following song of the Navaho:[160]
“On the trail marked with pollen may I walk,
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk,
With dew about my feet may I walk,
With beauty may I walk,
With beauty before me, may I walk,
With beauty behind me, may I walk,
With beauty above me, may I walk,
With beauty under me, may I walk,
With beauty all around me, may I walk,
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk,
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk,
It is finished in beauty.
[160] Washington Matthews, Navaho Myths, Prayers and Songs. University
of California Publications in Archaeology and Ethnology, Vol. 5, p. 48,
lines 61-73.
Of similar character is the following song of the Apache:[161]
“At the east where the black water lies, stands the large corn,
with staying roots, its large stalk, its red silk, its long
leaves, its tassel dark and spreading, on which there is the dew.
“At the sunset where the yellow water lies, stands the large
pumpkin with its tendrils, its long stem, its wide leaves, its
yellow top on which there is pollen.”
[161] P. E. Goddard, Myths and Tales from the White Mountain Apache.
Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol.
24, 1910.
The following song of the Pima has also ceremonial significance:[162]
“Wind now commences to sing;
Wind now commences to sing;
Wind now commences to sing.
The land stretches before me,
Before me it stretches away.
Wind’s house now is thundering;
Wind’s house now is thundering.
Came the myriad-legged wind.
The wind came running hither.
The Black Snake Wind came to me
The Black Snake Wind came to me.
Came and wrapped itself about,
Came here running with its song.
[162] Frank Russell, The Pima Indians, 26^{th} Ann. Rep. Bur. Am.
Ethn., p. 324.
The following Eskimo song which describes the beauty of nature is well
known:[163]
“The great Kunak mount yonder south, I do behold it;
The great Kunak mount yonder south, I regard it;
The shining brightness yonder south, I contemplate.
Outside of Kunak it is expanding,
The same that Kunak towards the seaside doth quite encompass.
Behold, how yonder south they shift and change.
Behold, how yonder south they tend to beautify each other,
While from the seaside it is enveloped in sheets still changing,
From the seaside enveloped to mutual embellishment.”
[163] Henry Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimos, London, 1875, p.
68.
A song, provided it does not contain intelligible words, may be of
purely formal esthetic value, which depends upon its melodic and
rhythmic character. Even these forms may be attached to more or less
different groups of ideas of emotional value. On the other hand the
established significance of the song may vary materially when different
sets of words are used with it. We observe this in our own culture,
when diverse thoughts are expressed in the same metre or when distinct
poems are sung according to the same tune,—as, for example, happened in
the transfer of folksongs into religious songs. I do not know in how
far this may happen in primitive poetry. Among the tribes that I know
best there is a decided tendency to associate a certain rhythm with a
certain set of songs. Thus the five part rhythm of the Northwest coast
of America seems to be closely connected with the religious winter
ceremonial; the mourning songs with slow regular beating.
The inherent relation between literary type and culture appears also
clearly in narrative.
The motives of action are determined by the mode of life and the chief
interests of the people, and the plots give us a picture of these.
In many typical tales of the Chukchee of Siberia the subject of the
tale is the tyranny and overmastering arrogance of an athletic hunter
or warrior and the attempts of the villagers to free themselves. Among
the Eskimo a group of brothers often take the place of the village
bully. Among both groups of people who live in small settlements,
without any hard and fast political organization, the fear of the
strongest person plays an important role, no matter whether his power
is founded on bodily strength or on supposed supernatural qualities.
The story uses generally a weak, despised boy as savior of the
community. Although tales of overbearing chiefs do occur among the
Indians they are not by any means a predominant type.
The principal theme of the Indians of British Columbia, whose thoughts
are almost entirely taken up by the wish to obtain rank and high
position in the community, is the tale of a poor man who attains high
position, or of the struggles between two chiefs who try to outdo
each other in feats that will increase their social standing. Among
the Blackfeet the principal theme is the acquisition of ceremonies,
possession and practise of which is a most important element in their
life.
All these differences are not entirely those of content but they
influence the form of the narrative, because the incidents are tied
together in different ways. The same motive recurs over and over again
in the tales of primitive people, so that a large mass of material
collected from the same tribe is liable to be very monotonous, and
after a certain point has been reached only new variants of old themes
are obtained.
However, much more fundamental are the differences which are based on
the general difference of cultural outlook. The same story told by
different tribes may bear an entirely different face. Not only is the
setting distinct, the motivation and the main points of the tales are
emphasized by different tribes in different ways and take on a local
coloring that can be understood only in relation to the whole culture.
An example selected from among the tales of the North American Indians
will illustrate this point. I chose the story of the star husband,
which is told on the prairies, in British Columbia, and on the North
Atlantic coast. The prairie tribes tell that two maidens go out to dig
roots and camp out. They see two stars and wish to be married to them.
The next morning they find themselves in the sky married to the stars.
They are forbidden to dig certain large roots, but the young women
disobey the orders of their husbands and, through a hole in the ground
they see the earth below. By means of a rope they climb down. From
here on, the story takes distinctive forms in different geographical
areas. In one form the adventures of the women after their return are
described, in the other the feats of the child born by one of them.
The central view-point of the same story as told by the Indians of
British Columbia is completely changed. The girls of a village build
a house in which they play and one day they talk about the stars,
how happy they must be because they are able to see the whole world.
The next morning they awake in the sky, in front of the house of a
great chief. The house is beautifully carved and painted. Suddenly a
number of men appear who pretend to embrace the girls but kill them by
sucking out their brains. Only the chief’s daughter and her younger
sister are saved. The elder sister becomes the wife of the chief of the
stars. Finally the chief sends them back with the promise to help them
whenever they are in need. They find the village deserted and the star
chief sends down his house and the masks and whistles belonging to a
ceremony which becomes the hereditary property of the woman’s family.
The tale ends with the acquisition of the house and the ceremony,
matters that are the chief interest in the life of the Indians. In
this way the story becomes one of the long series of tales of similar
import, although the contents belong to an entirely distinct group.
As a second example I mention the story of Amor and Psyche which has
been cast into a new mould by the Pueblo Indians. Here the antelope
appears in the form of a maiden. She marries a youth who is forbidden
to see the girl. He transgresses this order and, by the light of a
candle, looks upon her while she is asleep. Immediately the girl and
house disappear and the young man finds himself in the wallow of an
antelope.
Equally instructive are the transformations of biblical stories in
the mouths of the natives. Dr. Benedict and Dr. Parsons have recorded
a nativity story of the Zuni in which Jesus appears as a girl, the
daughter of the sun. After the child is born the domestic animals lick
it, only the mule refuses to do so and is punished with sterility. The
whole story has been given a new aspect. It is made to account for
the fertility of animals, and tells how fertility may be increased, a
thought uppermost in the minds of the Pueblos.
European fairy tales differ in this respect from those of primitive
tribes, for in contents and form they embrace many survivals of past
times. It is quite evident that the modern European fairy tale does not
reflect the conditions of the State of our times, nor the conditions of
our daily life, but that they give us an imaginative picture of rural
life in semifeudal times, and that, owing to the contradictions between
modern intellectualism and the ancient rural tradition, conflicts of
viewpoints occur that may be interpreted as survivals. In the tales
of primitive people it is otherwise. A detailed analysis of the
traditional tales of a number of Indian tribes shows complete agreement
of the conditions of life with those that may be abstracted from the
tales. Beliefs and customs in life and in tales are in full accord.
This is true not only of old native material but also of imported
stories that have been borrowed some time ago. They are quickly
adapted to the prevailing mode of life. The analysis of tales from the
Northwest coast and from the Pueblos gives the same result. Only during
the period of transition to new modes of life, such as are brought
about by contact with Europeans, contradictions develop. Thus it
happens that in the tales of Laguna, one of the Pueblos of New Mexico,
the visitor always enters through the roof of the house, although the
modern houses have doors. The headman of the ceremonial organization
plays an important role in many tales, although the organization itself
has largely disappeared. The tales of the Plains Indians still tell of
buffalo hunts although the game has disappeared and the people have
become tillers of the soil and laborers.
It would be erroneous to assume that the absence of survivals of an
earlier time can be explained as due to the permanence of conditions,
to a lack of historical change. Primitive culture is a product of
historical development no less than modern civilization. Mode of
life, customs, and beliefs of primitive tribes are not stable; but
the rate of change, unless disturbances from the outside occur, is
slower than among ourselves. What is lacking is the pronounced social
stratification of our times that brings it about that the various
groups represent, as it were, different periods of development. So far
as my knowledge goes we find the cultural, formal background of the
art of narrative of primitive people almost entirely determined by its
present cultural state. The only exceptions are found in periods of an
unusually rapid change or of disintegration. However, in this case also
a readjustment occurs. Thus the stories of the modern negroes of Angola
reflect the mixed culture of the west African coast. In the cultural
background of the narrative, survivals do not play an important role,
at least not under normal conditions. The plot may be old and taken
from foreign sources, but in its adoption it undergoes radical changes.
These remarks relating to literature do not mean, of course, that in
other aspects of life ancient customs and beliefs may not persist over
long periods.
We have spoken so far of the structure of the elements of prose tales
and songs. Important characteristics are found also in the manner
of their composition. In the narratives of some people the episodes
are anecdotally short; among others the wish for a more complex
structure is felt. Often this is accomplished by the meagre device of
concentrating all the anecdotes around one personage.
In many cases the craftiness, strength, voracity or amorousness of the
hero gives a more or less definite character to the whole cycle. The
Raven tale of Alaska consists entirely of unrelated episodes. The only
connecting element, besides the identity of the hero, is the voracity
of the Raven; but even this disappears in many cases. Quite similar
are the Coyote tales of the Plateaus, the Spider tales of the Sioux,
the Rabbit tales of the Algonquin, the Spider tales of the Guinea
coast, the Rabbit and Turtle tales of South Africa, and the Fox tales
of Europe. There is no inner connection between the specific character
of the hero and the contents in the anecdote of the hoodwinked dancers
(birds are induced to dance with closed eyes so as to give the hero a
chance to wring their necks without being observed); in the tale of the
eye juggler (the hero who is induced to throw up his eyes which are
then caught in the branches of a tree so that he becomes blind); or
in the incident of the bungling host (the hero is invited to partake
of magically obtained food and he reciprocates the invitation but is
ignominiously defeated in his attempt to repeat the magical procedure).
Sometimes the tales are strung on the slight thread of an Odyssey, of
a tale of adventure and travel. To this class belongs the Eskimo tale
of a hero who escaped a storm created by magic, and who encountered
dangers of the sea which are described in some detail. He reaches a
foreign coast and encounters cannibals and other dangerous creatures.
Finally he reaches home again. Another case of this kind is a newly
developed legend of the Tlingit of Alaska. In the early days of Russian
colonization of Alaska the Tlingit attacked the fort at Sitka and the
Russian governor, Baranoff, had to flee. After a few years he returned
to reestablish the fort. This interval is filled by the Tlingit with
a marvellous journey, telling how he goes in search of his son. He
encounters fabulous beings that are known from other tales, visits
the entrance to the lower world and communicates with the ghosts who
give him instructions. Among the Pueblo Indians a large number of
incidents are connected in a tale of migration in which the whole tribe
participates.
In other cases there is an effort to establish an inner connection
between the single elements. Thus the disconnected Raven tale of Alaska
has been remodelled in southern British Columbia in such a manner
that some of the elements of the tale have been brought into an inner
connection: The thunder-bird steals a woman. In order to recover her
the raven makes a whale of wood and kills the gum because he needs
it to caulk the whale. In another tale the killing of the gum is the
introduction to a visit to the sky. The sons of the murdered gum ascend
the sky to take revenge.
Other tales are so developed that they form a complex, novelistic plot.
The creation legends of the Polynesians are of this character. Even
among those tribes that enjoy the brief, etiological anecdote, tales
occur that contain the elements of an epic poem. The bare outlines of a
family story of the Kwakiutl may serve as an example: The Thunderbird
and his wife live in heaven, they descend to our earth and become the
ancestors of a family. The Transformer meets them and in a series of
contests the two prove to be of equal power. Finally the transformer
puts frogs into the stomach of the Thunderbird-ancestor who takes
them out again and deposits them on a rock. The sons of one of his
friends go and then the frogs enter their stomachs, but they are cured
by the Thunderbird-ancestor. In return he receives a magic canoe.
The tale goes on to relate the birth, magic growth, and exploits of
his four children. His wife is ravished by a spirit and gives birth
to a boy who is washed in the slime of a double-headed serpent. Thus
his skin becomes stone. The tale continues with a long series of
warlike exploits of this son. Finally he woos a princess for one of
his brothers. On a visit to her home the son of this princess is made
fun of by the children in the village of her father. This results in
a war in which the village of her father is destroyed. One of the
wives of her father escapes and gives birth to a boy. The second wife
of her father is enslaved by Stone-Body, the young man whose skin had
been transformed into stone. She gives birth to a boy and by a ruse
succeeds in making her escape with her son. The two brothers grow up
and, in a series of adventures and exploits, both obtain supernatural
power. They meet and travel towards the village of their father,
killing and transforming on the way dangerous monsters. Meanwhile
Stone-Body has obtained a ceremonial from a southern tribe and goes
to Feather-Mountain in the north to obtain bird’s down, needed for
this dance. On his way back he meets the ancestors of another tribe
and they have a contest of magical powers. In this he is overcome and
killed with his whole crew. In the main story this incident is omitted.
He goes on and the two brothers, the daughters of the escaped woman
overturn his canoe and kill him. On a visit to her father the woman
married to Stone-Body’s brother sees the head of Stone-Body and her
child reports this after their return. Then her husband’s people set
out to take revenge but all are killed by the two brothers, who give a
feast in their house and maltreat their guests.
So far we have considered only the reflection of cultural life in the
form of the narrative. Its influence is also expressed in another
manner. When the narrative is thoroughly integrated in the life of
the people a process occurs quite similar to the one we observed in
decorative art. As a geometric form often receives a secondary meaning
that is read into it, so the narrative is given an interpretative
significance that is quite foreign to the original tale; and as in
decorative art the adventitious meaning varies in character according
to the culture of the people, thus the style of the interpretation of
a tale depends upon the cultural interests of the people telling it
and, accordingly, assumes distinctive forms. We have found that art
styles are apt to be disseminated over wide areas while the explanatory
meaning of art forms shows much greater individuality. Precisely in
the same manner, tales are apt to travel over enormous areas but their
significance changes according to the various cultural interests of
the tribes. As an example I refer to the story of the girl who married
a dog, a tale widely spread in North America. It is used to explain
the origin of the milky way (Alaska); the origin of the culture hero
(British Columbia); the origin of the tribal ancestor (Southern
British Columbia); the origin of a constellation (interior of British
Columbia); the origin of a red cliff (interior of Alaska); the origin
of the Dog Society (Blackfoot); and the reason why dogs are the friends
of man (Arapaho).[164]
[164] Waterman, The Explanatory Element in the Folk-tales of the North
American Indians, Journal of American Folk-lore, Vol. 27 (1914), pp. 28
et seq.
The view of the historical development of explanatory tales here
expressed is analogous to that regarding the relation of symbolism and
design. The general type of interpretation of symbolism exists in the
tribe and the tale is made to conform to it. In many cases the symbolic
or interpretative explanation is a foreign element added on to the
design or to the tale in agreement with a stylistic pattern controlling
the imagination of the people. This process may lead indirectly also
to a conformable stylistic development of other representations, or to
attempts to give explanations for the phenomena of nature. Only on the
basis of a pre-existing style which has its origin in non-symbolic and
non-interpretative sources can the resultant form develop.
It must not be assumed that the literary style of a people is uniform,
on the contrary the forms are quite varied. I have pointed out before
that unity of style is not found in decorative art either, that many
cases may be adduced in which different styles are used in different
industries or among different groups of the population. Just so we
find in a tribe complex tales that have definite structural cohesion,
and brief anecdotes; some told with an evident enjoyment of diffuse
detail, others almost reduced to a formula. An example of this are the
long stories and the animal fables of the Eskimo. The former treat of
events happening in human society, of adventurous travel, of encounters
with monsters and supernatural beings, of deeds of shamans. They are
novelistic tales. On the other hand many of the animal fables are mere
formulas. Similar contrasts are found in the tales and fables of the
negroes.
The styles of songs vary also considerably according to the occasion
for which they are composed. Among the Kwakiutl we find long songs
in which the greatness of the ancestors is described in the form of
recitatives. In religious festivals songs are used of rigid rhythmic
structure, accompanying dances. In these the same words or syllables
are repeated over and over again, except that another appellation for
the supernatural being in whose honor they are sung is introduced in
each new stanza. Again of a different type are the love songs which are
not by any means rare.
It is striking that certain literary forms are found among all the
races of the old world while they are unknown in America. Here belongs
particularly the proverb. The important position held by the proverb in
the literature of Africa, Asia, and also of Europe until quite recent
times, is well known. In Africa particularly do we find the proverb in
constant use. It is even the basis of court decisions. The importance
of the proverb in Europe is illustrated by the way in which Sancho
Panza applies it. Equally rich is Asiatic literature in proverbial
sayings. On the contrary, hardly any proverbial sayings are known from
American Indians. I have referred before to a few metaphorical sayings
of the Tsimshian, the only proverbial sayings known to me north of
Mexico.[165]
[165] I collected one saying among the Eskimo of Cumberland Sound:
“If I should go to get them I should be like one who goes to buy the
backside of a salmon (i. e. something without value).”
The same conditions are found in regard to the riddle, one of the
favorite pass-times of the Old World, which is almost entirely absent
in America. Riddles are known from the Yukon River, a region in which
Asiatic influences may be discovered in several cultural traits, and
also in Labrador. In other parts of the continent careful questioning
has failed to reveal their occurrence. It is striking that even in
New Mexico and Arizona, where Indians and Spaniards have been living
side by side for several centuries and where Indian literature is full
of Spanish elements, the riddle, nevertheless, has not been adopted,
although the Spaniards of this region are as fond of riddles as those
of other parts of the country. Sahagun, however, records a number of
riddles from Mexico.[166]
[166] B. Sahagun (see note p. 132), Vol. 2, pp. 236, 237.
As a third example I mention the peculiar development of the animal
tale. Common to mankind the world over is the animal fable by means of
which form and habits of animals, or the existence of natural phenomena
are explained. The moralising fable, on the other hand, belongs to the
Old World.
The distribution of epic poetry is also wide, but nevertheless
limited to a fairly definitely circumscribed area, namely Europe and
a considerable part of Central Asia. We have mentioned that in America
long, connected tribal traditions occur, but up to this time no trace
of a composition that might be called a romance or a true epic poem
has ever been discovered. Neither can the Polynesian legends telling
of the descent and deeds of their chiefs be designated as epic poetry.
The distribution of this form can be understood only on the basis of
the existence of ancient cultural relations. For this reason Wundt’s
analysis of the origin of the epic poem does not seem adequate. It
has a meaning only in so far as the inclination existed to express in
song tribal history and the deeds of heroes, a pattern that developed
locally, but that is not of universal occurrence.
On the ground of the distribution of these types two conclusions may be
established: the one that these forms are not necessary steps in the
development of literary form, but that they occur only under certain
conditions; the other that the forms are not determined by race, but
depend upon historical happenings.
If at the time when Europeans first came to the New World the
literature of the Americans did not possess the three types of
literature which we mentioned, it does not follow that they would have
appeared at a later time. We have no reason whatever to assume that
American literature was less developed than that of Africa. On the
contrary, the art of narrative and poetry are highly developed in many
parts of America. We must rather assume that the historical conditions
have led to a form different from that of the Old World.
The wide distribution of most of these forms among Europeans, Mongols,
Malay, and Negro proves the independence of literary development from
racial descent. It shows that it is one of the characteristics of the
enormously extended cultural area, which embraces almost the whole of
the Old World, and which in other features also appears in distinct
contrast to the New World. I mention here only the development of a
formal judicial procedure, founded on the taking of evidence, the oath
and the ordeal and the absence of this complex in America; and the
absence in America of the belief in obsession and of the evil eye which
are widely known in the Old World.
The characteristics of poetry lead us to a consideration of the forms
of music. The only kind of music that is of universal occurrence
is song; and the source of music must therefore be sought here.
Universally valid characteristics of song will also be general
principles of music. Two elements are common to all song: rhythm and
fixed intervals. We have shown before that rhythm must not be conceived
on the basis of our modern regularity as a sequence of measures of
equal duration and somewhat free subdivision, but its form is much more
general. Apparent irregularity must not be misinterpreted as a lack of
rhythm, for in each repetition of a song the same order is preserved
without change. Precisely as the rhythmic order in primitive decorative
art is more complex than our own, so also is the rhythm of music liable
to be more complex. Regular measures do occur, but they are not so
rigidly confined to 2, 3 or 4 part time, as our own, but 5 and 7 part
sequences frequently occur, in fact predominate in some types of music:
five part rhythms are common in northwestern America, 7 part rhythms
in southern Asia. Alterations of rhythms that seem unfamiliar to us
are found, as well as very complex sequences that cannot be reduced
to measures at all. We may best describe the rhythm of many types of
primitive music as consisting of a regular sequence of musical phrases
of irregular structure. Sometimes the phrases expand into long rhythmic
units without recognisable subdivision.
A second and all-important element of all music is the use of fixed
intervals which may be transposed from one point of the tone series
to another and which are always recognized as equivalent. In singing,
these intervals are naturally inaccurate, for intonation is uncertain
and wavering and depends upon the intensity of emotional excitement.
Intervals are liable to increase, as the emotions of the singers
are raised to a higher pitch. It is, therefore, difficult if not
impossible to say what the singers intend to sing. The musical interval
may be compared with the melody of language. Most languages do not
use pitch in such a way that it is an important, significant part of
articulation. The use of pitch in language is more widely distributed
than is generally known. It is not by any means the exclusive feature
of Chinese, but it occurs in Africa as well as in America, not to speak
of its familiar use in the Scandinavian languages and in ancient Greek.
Theoretically it is conceivable that early human speech might have used
fixed intervals and musical phrasing of vowels and voiced consonants
just as well as different timbre of vowels (that is our _a_, _e_, _i_,
_o_, _u_, and other vowel values), to express different ideas, but it
cannot be proved that such was done. It is much more likely, according
to available linguistic evidence that musical tone in language is a
secondary development due to the disappearance of formative elements.
We must also consider that in languages with tone, glides are of
great importance and that these are not typical parts of the melodic
sequence, although they occur as endings of phrases. Furthermore the
intervals of speech are not fixed and vary considerably according
to the position of the word in the phrase. It does not seem likely,
therefore, that the melody can be derived directly from speech, as
Herbert Spencer tried to do. I rather adhere to the opinion of Stumpf
who demands a different origin for the fixed interval. The sustained
cry is much more likely to use fixed intervals and stable tones.
Whatever their origin may have been, we must recognize the existence
of fixed intervals and their transponability as the fundamental
requirements of all music. It is true that in some languages the value
of the fixed interval is keenly felt. This is demonstrated by the
so-called drum language of West Africa in which the speech melody and
rhythm is repeated on drums of definite tones and where these tone
sequences are understood.
Further investigation of primitive music requires a study of the
intervals themselves. Notwithstanding the great differences of systems
we find that all intervals may be interpreted as subdivisions of
the octave. To the untrained ear the octave appears very commonly
as a single tone; in other words, no distinction is made between a
tone and its octave. To a lesser extent this is true of the fifth
and even of the fourth. The majority of intervals that have been
found must be considered as subdivisions of the octave. However, the
subdivision does not always proceed according to harmonic principles
as in our music, but by equidistant tones. The development of harmony
in modern music has had the effect that we have lost all feeling for
equidistance in a harmonic series and that the recent music in which
non-harmonic equidistant tones are applied require a difficult break
with the pattern of musical form to which we are accustomed. After a
long struggle, we have reached a compromise between the two systems,
the harmonic and the equidistant, by dividing the octave into twelve
equal parts which give a fairly close agreement to the natural harmonic
intervals, although the differences are audible to a trained ear. The
Javanese divide the octave into seven equidistant steps, the Siamese
into five, systems that are in fundamental conflict with those of
our music. In short, a great variety of scales exist and serve as
foundation for the musical systems of different people. All seem to
have in common as foundation the octave.
I will not enter into this intricate subject any further, because
a safe method has not yet been found that would enable us to tell
definitely what people _want_ to sing among whom there is no theory of
music, as it exists among ourselves or the civilized people of Asia,
and who have no exactly constructed instruments.
Among musical instruments one type is of universal distribution: the
percussion instruments, or perhaps better instruments for producing
noises that carry the rhythm of the song. In the simplest cases these
are sticks with which boards or other resounding objects are struck.
But besides these we find everywhere the use of some kind of a drum:
wooden, hollow boxes, hollow cylinders or hoops covered with a drum
head of skin. Rattles, and locally other devices for producing noises
occur. Not so general, for musical purposes, is the use of wind
instruments. Whistles used as calls are perhaps universal, but the
flute or pipe is not used everywhere as a musical instrument. Still
more restricted is the use of stringed instruments. At the time of
the discovery they were entirely unknown in America. Among primitive
tribes, including the whole of America, song was accompanied only by
rhythmic beating on instruments of percussion. It is interesting to
note that the beats did not always coincide with the accent of the
song, but had often an independent, though coordinated rhythm (see p.
315). Singing in several parts is also unknown in primitive music. In
Africa solo singing and response of a chorus occurs, and a kind of
polyphony due to the overlapping of these. Sometimes true singing in
parts has been observed in Africa.
Music is always expressionistic and we are apt to associate with a tune
and rhythm a definite mood, but these associations vary considerably
with local styles. I have referred, in another place, to the feelings
associated among ourselves with the major and minor keys. These are not
by any means shared by people who have grown up under the influence
of another musical style. It is likely that the symbolic meaning
of music alone is vaguer than that of song; but it is difficult to
reach a definite decision in regard to this question, for there is
very little music without song or without association with symbolic
or representative actions. The condition is perhaps comparable to
that found in the symbolic significance of graphic and plastic arts,
the connotations of which are, as we have seen, certain only when
a definite relation between form and implied content exist. It is
intelligible that a type of tune that is always applied in mourning
ceremonies will produce the proper emotional effect, while the same
type of tune without such definite setting might have quite a different
effect.
The present state of our knowledge of primitive music does not permit
us to establish definite musical areas, but enough is known to prove
that as all other cultural features, we may recognize a series of
musical areas, each characterized by common fundamental traits. The
narrow compass of tunes of east Siberian songs, the falling cadence
with repetition of motives on a falling series of fundamental tones
among the Plains Indians, the antiphony of Negro songs are examples
of this kind. The varying systems of tonality, the use of purely
instrumental music, the kind of accompaniment of song, are others. It
seems quite certain that it will be possible to determine large areas
in which, by diffusion, similar types of musical art have developed
and in which, by subdivision, local types may be segregated similar in
character to those found in decorative art. Even in the modern folk
music of Europe a definite character of the folkmusic of each nation
may be recognized. Borrowed melodies adapted to local forms illustrate
this type of individuality. As an example of such adaptation I give on
the next page a German song which has been adopted by the Mexicans. It
was probably carried there by the army of Maximilian.
On account of the interrelation between body movements and
articulations it seems likely that rhythmic body movements release
rhythmic articulations, that is song; and that in this sense, songs
that consist of meaningless syllables may have their origin in
movement. On the other hand the excitement engendered by song leads
to movements that are related to the rhythm of the song, so that in
this sense, a dance is conditioned by the song. We mean here by dance,
the rhythmic movements of any part of the body, swinging of the arms,
movement of the trunk or head, or movements of the legs and feet. The
two forms of expression are mutually determined.
We have to remember here the general remarks which we made in the
beginning in regard to all art. We saw that without a formal element
art does not exist. Technical work without fixed form does not create
artistic enjoyment. In the same way violent, expressive movement born
of the passion of the moment is not art. Art as an expression of
feeling requires form as much as art born of the control of technical
processes. If it were not selfevident we might have pointed out also
that the passionate cry is neither poetry nor music. It is, therefore,
not appropriate to call dance all the violent movements that occur in
the lives of primitive people. We must reserve the term to movements
of fixed form, although it may be recognized that in the height of
excitement dance may turn into a formless tumult of motion, as music
may change to formless cries of wildest excitement.
[Music:
Denkst du daran, mein tapfer Lagienka, dass ich dereinst in
unserm Vaterland, an eurer Spitze nah bei Dubienka, viertausend
gegen sechzehntausend stand? Denkst du daran, wie ich vom Feind
umgeben,
mit Mühe nur die Freiheit uns gewann? Ich denke
dran, ich danke dir mein Leben; doch du, Soldat, Soldat denkst du
daran.[Trans. 1]
Yo trobador, yo pobre sin fortuna, si te admiro las
gracias que tu tienes; yo no te veo mas bella que la luna, si te adoro
me perdonas otra vez. Proscrito yo, en extranjero
suelo, no hay piedad de un triste trobador. Proscrito
yo en extranjero suelo, no hay piedad de un triste trobador.[Trans. 2]
]
[Trans. 1] Do you remember, my brave Lagienka, that I once stood in
our fatherland, at your head near Dubienka, four thousand
against sixteen thousand? Do you remember how I was surrounded by
the enemy,
how hard it was to gain our freedom? I remember,
I owe you my life; but you, soldier, soldier, remember it too.
[Trans. 2] I troubadour, I poor without fortune, if I admire the
graces that you have; I don’t see you more beautiful than the moon,
if I adore you,
forgive me again. Banished I, in a foreign
soil, there is no mercy for a sad troubadour. Banished
I, in a foreign soil, there is no mercy for a sad troubadour.
We observe among all primitive tribes that emotions finding vent in
motor activities adopt a definite form. In this sense dance as an art
form may be purely formal, that is, devoid of symbolic meaning. Its
esthetic effect may be founded on the enjoyment of body movement, often
reinforced by that emotional excitement that is released by the dance
movement. The more formal the dance, the stronger will be the purely
esthetic enjoyment, as against the emotional element.
We are not well informed in regard to the local distribution of dance
types among primitive people but enough is known to allow us to state
that, as in decorative art and in music, areas of similar dance forms
occur. The joint dances of the Pueblo Indians in which participate
a large number of dancers dressed alike and in formation, are quite
foreign to the North Pacific coast where the single dance prevails.
In the formal woman’s dance of the Northwest Coast, the dancer stays
in the same place with hands raised to the height of the face, palms
forward and trembling. The body movements are carried on by gentle
bending of the knees and slight swaying of the body. The Koryak dancer
who holds the drum, moves in quite another way, swinging his body
from the hips and beating the drum (see fig. 73, p. 79). Joint dances
of the two sexes are rare and the dancers do not often so move that
their bodies are in intimate contact. We find more frequently either
single dances or a number of performers who repeat the same movements.
The effectiveness of the dance is increased by the order in which the
dancers stand and move.
Symbolic movements are perhaps even more frequent than purely formal
dance. They are used not only in accompanying song but also in
oratory, and the muscular play accompanying lively conversation of both
the speaker and the hearer is a manifestation of the relation between
language and symbolic movements. These are also standardized in each
cultural area. The number of organically determined gestures is very
small. Most of them are culturally patterned. Many are so automatic
that they are called forth immediately by the form of thought. In other
cases the speaker enhances the effect of his words by appropriate
gestures and the meaning of song is often brought out more vividly by
significant movements. Thus the chorus of the Indians of the Pueblo of
Laguna sing:
“In the east rises the sun youth,
Here westward he moves with life and vegetation.
Carrying them in his basket while he is walking along.”
When this song is sung the singer faces westward and moves forward. The
word “vegetation” is expressed by pushing the hands alternately upward;
“basket” by describing a wide circle with both hands and bringing
them together in front of the body. The gesture expresses the act of
carrying in a basket. The word “walking” is indicated by stretching the
hands out forward in front of the body and waving them up and up.
The Kwakiutl sing as follows:[167]
“I am going around the world eating everywhere with
Cannibal-at-the-North-End-of-the-World.
I went to the center of the world; Cannibal-at-the-
North-End-of-the-World is crying “food”.
[167] F. Boas, Social Organization and Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl
Indians, Annual Report of the United States National Museum, 1895, p.
457.
The dancer accompanies this song which is sung by a chorus, with
movements. His arms tremble from right to left. To the words, “I
am going” the arms are stretched out to one side; “All around the
world”, they swing around in a round circle; “I,” the shoulders are
alternately brought forward and backward; “eating everywhere”, the
right hand stretches far out as though it was taking food, and is
then brought to the mouth, while the left describes a wide circle,
indicating “everywhere”; “Cannibal-at-the-North-End-of-the-World”,
both hands are bent inward and the finger tips moved toward the
mouth, meaning “the eater”; “I went” is expressed as before;
“Cannibal-at-North-End-of-the-World is crying ‘food’ for me”, the
sign of the cannibal spirit is made; then the arms are stretched far
backward, the palms turned downward, and the head is lowered, this
being the cannibal spirit’s attitude when crying “food”. “At the center
of the world”, when these words are sung the dancer is in front of
the fire and looks up to the rear of the house in the characteristic
attitude of the cannibal, the rear of the house being the center of the
world.
The further development of movement accompanying the song leads to true
pantomimic and ultimately to dramatic performances.
CONCLUSION
We have now completed our review of the forms of primitive art and we
shall try to sum up the results of our inquiry.
We have seen that art arises from two sources, from technical pursuits
and from the expression of emotions and thought, as soon as these take
fixed forms. The more energetic the control of form over uncoordinated
movement, the more esthetic the result. Artistic enjoyment is,
therefore, based essentially upon the reaction of our minds to form.
The same kind of enjoyment may be released by impressions received from
forms that are not the handiwork of man, but they may not be considered
as art, although the esthetic reaction is not different from the one we
receive from the contemplation or the hearing of a work of art. When
speaking of artistic production they must be excluded. When considering
only esthetic reactions they must be included.
The esthetic effect of artistic work developing from the control of
technique alone is based on the joy engendered by the mastery of
technique and also by the pleasure produced by the perfection of form.
The enjoyment of form may have an elevating effect upon the mind, but
this is not its primary effect. Its source is in part the pleasure
of the virtuoso who overcomes technical difficulties that baffle his
cleverness. As long as no deeper meaning is felt in the significance of
form, its effect is for most individuals, pleasurable, not elevating.
We have seen that in the various arts definite formal principles
manifest themselves, the origin of which we did not try to explain,
but which we accepted as present in the art of man the world over,
and which for this reason we considered as the most ancient, the most
fundamental characteristics of all art. In the graphic and plastic
arts these elements are symmetry, rhythm and emphasis of form. We
found symmetry to be very generally right and left and suggested that
this may be due to the symmetry of manual movements as well as to the
observation of right and left symmetry in animals and in man. We also
observed that rhythmic repetition runs ordinarily in horizontal bands
and pointed out the general experience that natural objects of the
same or similar kind are arranged in horizontal strata, such as woods,
mountains, and clouds; legs, body and limbs. Rhythmic form seems to
be closely related to technical processes, although other causes of
rhythmic repetition are revealed in poetry. The simplest technical
processes produce a simple repetition of the same motives, while with
increasing virtuosity more complex orders become the rule. The more
virtuosity is developed, the more complex are the rhythms that are
liable to make their appearance. The ability of primitive artists to
appreciate rhythm seems to be much greater than our own.
The desire to emphasize form made itself felt in the application of
lines to the rim. We also observed the tendency of the rim designs to
become exuberant and to encroach upon the decorative field. No less
important is the tendency to attach ornament to prominent places of the
decorated object and to divide the decorative field according to fixed
principles.
While the features so far considered are common characteristics of
art the world over, they do not explain the style of separate areas.
We considered this problem in some detail in the field of decorative
art. Here our attention was first arrested by the fact that purely
formal art, or perhaps better, art that is apparently purely formal,
is given a meaning endowing it with an emotional value that does not
belong to the beauty of form alone. It is an expressionistic element
that is common to many forms of primitive art. It is effective because
in the mind of the tribes certain forms are symbols of a limited range
of ideas. The firmer the association between a form and a definite
idea, the more clearly stands out the expressionistic character of the
art. This is true in the graphic and plastic arts as well as in music.
In the former a geometrical form, in the latter a sound cluster, a
particular type of musical phrasing, if associated with a definite
meaning, evokes definite emotions or even concepts. A study of these
conditions shows also that a uniform reaction to form is indispensable
for the effectiveness of an expressionistic art, a condition which is
not fulfilled in our own modern society, so that an expressionistic art
can appeal only to a circle of adepts who follow the lines of thought
and feeling developed by a master. Symbolic art can still be applied
successfully in the case of a few symbols that have fixed associations
which are valid for all of us.
The wide distribution of symbolic forms and the remoteness of their
resemblance to the objects they symbolize led us to a consideration
of the question of their history. We examined particularly the theory
that all artistic reproduction is by origin naturalistic and that
geometrization grows up only when the artist tries to introduce
ideas that are not inherent in the object itself. We saw that this
theory cannot be maintained, because realistic representation and
geometrization spring from distinctive sources. In plastic art the
contrast between the two tendencies does not appear as clearly as
in graphic art. In the former it is found more in surface treatment
than in general outline. In graphic art the matter is complicated
by the difficulties involved in representing a three-dimensional
object on a two-dimensional surface, a problem which the artist has
to solve. This may be done in one of two ways. Either a perspective
representation of the object as it appears at a given moment may be
attempted, or the artist may decide that the essential point is to show
all its characteristic parts, no matter whether they are visible in a
single view or not. The former method lays stress upon the accidental
features, it is impressionistic; the latter stresses those elements
that are felt to constitute the fundamental qualities of the object, it
is expressionistic. The two methods which we called the symbolic and
the perspective are absolutely distinct and the one cannot be developed
from the other. We have also seen that the consistent application of
the perspective method is reached only when we introduce also the
principle of indistinctness of those points that are removed from the
center of the field of vision and that of dependence of color upon
environment. Both of these have been tried in our day, without having
found general acceptance. The symbolic method is always more or less
wavering in the application of its principle. Sometimes perspective
correctness of outline is attempted with a considerable degree of
freedom in regard to the detailed treatment of those symbols that are
considered important. Of this character are the Egyptian paintings with
their vacillation between front and side views. In other cases the
realism of outline is entirely sacrificed and the form may be reduced
to a mere assembly of symbols.
The theory has been advanced that geometric ornament developed through
the degeneration of perspective designs; in part perhaps also through
that of symbolic designs. It is assumed that the symbol, or the object
represented was misunderstood and that in course of time through
a process of slurring, by careless and inaccurate representation
the forms became fragmentary and finally lost all semblance to the
original. It is not possible to accept this theory, because the
conditions under which the supposed slurring occurs are seldom
realized. Slovenly work does not occur in an untouched primitive
culture. Misunderstandings may happen in cases of borrowing of designs
or in that of a gradual transformation of those concepts that find
expression in decorative art. Actual slurring is found in factory
production. By an examination of a few cases of this kind we were able
to show that it does not lead to geometrization, but to the growth of
an individualism akin to that of our handwriting. It cannot be denied
that in such cases occasion for re-interpretation with consequent
changes of form occur, but these are not frequent. On the other hand we
were able to show that reading in of realistic meanings into geometric
forms is quite common. We proved this by means of a detailed comparison
of the style of painting and embroidery of the North American Plains
Indians which we found to be practically identical everywhere, while
the interpretations varied from tribe to tribe. This phenomenon
agrees with the general tendency to keep intact the form, but to
endow it with new meaning according to the chief cultural interests
of the people. We pointed out the prevalence of the same tendency in
folk-tales and ritual. As a general explanation the geometrization of
realistic patterns is, therefore, unacceptable. In the majority of
cases it seems to be rather due to the inclination of man to give a
meaning to geometric form, as we enjoy reading meanings into the forms
of clouds and mountains. We were also able to describe a few cases in
which the process of reading in has actually been observed.
Another fact prevents us from considering geometrization as a general
historical process. It is very seldom only that the steps are found so
distributed that they can be proved to follow one another in time. Much
oftener all are found at the same time among the same people.
Considering all these points we reached the conclusion that the
stylistic form which contains to a greater or lesser extent constant
geometrical elements, is decisive in determining the manner in which
representations are rendered. We were thus led to the attempt to find
the principles underlying art styles.
We approached this subject by the study of a few art forms. We compared
a number of art styles that make use of the spiral and found in each
characteristic traits, as well regarding the form of the spiral as in
the handling of the decorative field. In the same way we observed that
in the art of the North American Indians the same kind of triangles and
rectangles are used by all the tribes, but that there exist typical
differences in the treatment of the decorative field. The problem was
carried through in some detail by means of a study of the decorative
art of the North Pacific coast which is highly symbolic in character.
This example taught us an additional point, namely that in symbolic
art the selection of symbols is of decisive importance in defining the
style and that the arrangement of the symbols is subject to the same
formal treatment of the decorative field which control the arrangement
of geometrical motives.
On the basis of this study we conclude that the particular types of
geometrical motives that enter into the representative form, as well
as the treatment of the decorative field determine the character of
the design and that the degree of realism depends upon the relative
importance of the geometric and representative elements. When the
purely decorative tendency prevails we have essentially geometrical,
highly conventionalized forms, when the idea of representation
prevails, we have, on the contrary, more realistic forms. In every
case, however, the formal element that characterizes the style, is
older than the particular type of representation. This does not signify
that early representations do not occur, it means that the method of
representation was always controlled by formal elements of distinctive
origin.
The pattern of artistic expression that emerges from a long, cumulative
process determined by a multiplicity of causes fashions the form of
the art work. We recognize the permanence of pattern in those cases
in which a useful form that has lost its function persists as a
decorative element; in the imitation in new materials of natural forms
used at one time as utensils, and in the transfer of forms from one
technique to another. The fixity of the pattern does not permit the
artist to apply natural forms unmodified to decorative purposes. His
imagination is limited by the pattern. In cases of greater freedom the
representative value may not be seriously encroached upon. Such is the
case for instance, with the oriental palmetto and the ear ornaments
of the Marquesas Islands, on which in olden times two deities were
represented, back to back, while nowadays two girls in a swing are
carved, in exactly the same spacial arrangement. When the pattern
is highly formal and not adapted to representation, an apparent
geometrization may be the result. The distinction between these two
aspects appears clearly in those cases in which pictography and
symbolic geometric art appear side by side.
The art of the North Pacific coast proved also that we must not assume
that the style of a tribe must always be uniform, but that it is
quite possible that in different industries, particularly when carried
along by different parts of the population, quite distinctive styles
may prevail. The excellence and consistency of a style as well as the
multiplicity of forms depend upon the perfection of technique. We
found, therefore, that in those cases in which technical work is done
by the men alone, they are the creative artists, that when the women
do a great deal of technical work they are no less productive, and
that when the two sexes carry on different industries they may develop
distinctive styles. It is, however, more frequent that the style of a
dominant industry may be imposed upon work made by other processes.
Weaving in coarse material seemed to be a most fertile source of
patterns that are imitated in paintings, carvings, and pottery.
A comparison of the fundamental elements that are found in the graphic
and plastic arts,—in the arts of space,—as contrasted with those
of poetry, music, and dance,—the arts of time,—brings out certain
differences and similarities. Common to both are rhythm, and it seems
likely that the rhythm of technique is merely a spacial expression
of the rhythm of time, in so far as the rhythmic movements result in
rhythmic forms when applied to technical pursuits. We may perhaps also
speak in both types of art of attempts to emphasize closed forms,
for often we find musical phrases, and single ideas in poetry closed
by what might be called a decorative end, consisting of burdens or
of codas. Similar elements may also appear as introductions in the
beginning. Completely lacking in the pure arts of time is symmetry,
because an inverted time order does not convey the impression of
symmetry, as is the case in the arts of space. It occurs only in a
symmetrical arrangement of phrases. Dance contains elements of both
the spacial and time arts. Therefore, the principles of the former may
be clearly observed in dance forms. Rhythmic movements and rhythmic
spacial order, symmetry of position and of movement, and emphasis and
balance of form are essential in esthetic dance forms.
The graphic and plastic arts owe much of their emotional value to
the representative and symbolic values of form. This is no less true
in literature, music and dance. Narrative and poetry so far as they
contain intelligible words, always have a meaning which may have a deep
significance because they touch upon those aspects of life that stir
the emotions. Frequently there is an added meaning, when the words
have a symbolic, ulterior significance related to religious beliefs or
philosophical ideas. In music and dance also symbolic significance is
often attached to form.
* * * * *
We are at the end of our considerations, but one question remains to
be answered. We have seen that the desire for artistic expression is
universal. We may even say that the mass of the population in primitive
society feels the need of beautifying their lives more keenly than
civilized man, at least more than those whose lives are spent under
the urgent necessity of acquiring the meagre means of sustenance. But
among others also the desire for comfort has often superseded the
desire for beauty. Among primitive people the καλὸν κἀγαθόν coincide.
Goodness and beauty are the same. Do they then possess the same
keenness of esthetic appreciation that is found at least in part of
our population? I believe we may safely say that in the narrow field
of art that is characteristic of each people the enjoyment of beauty
is quite the same as among ourselves: intense among a few, slight
among the mass. The readiness to abandon one’s self to the exaltation
induced by art, is probably greater, because the conventional restraint
of our times does not exist in the same forms in their lives. What
distinguishes modern esthetic feeling from that of primitive people
is the manifold character of its manifestations. We are not so much
bound by a fixed style. The complexity of our social structure and our
more varied interests allow us to see beauties that are closed to the
senses of people living in a narrower culture. It is the quality of
their experience, not a difference in mental make-up that determines
the difference between modern and primitive art production and art
appreciation.
TEXT FIGURES
Page
Fig. 1. Front of painted box, Tlingit, Alaska
(A. M. N. H. 19/1074) 18
” 2. Jar from Zuni (A. M. N. H. 50.1/3333) 19
” 3. Coiled basketry 20
” 4. Twined basketry (From G. T. Emmons, Basketry of the Tlingit,
Memoirs A. M. N. H., Vol. 3, fig. 294, p. 240) 20
” 5. Chipped flint implements; _a_, American Indian, A. M. N. H.
T 18542; _b_, Egypt, A. M. N. H. 75.0/820 21
” 6. Part of surface of wooden sail, Kwakiutl Indians, Vancouver
Island (A. M. N. H. 16.1/1744) 23
” 7. Painted board, Tierra del Fuego (After Wilhelm Koppers,
Unter Feuerland-Indianern, fig. 6, p. 48) 23
” 8. Bushman designs; to the left, designs from ostrich eggs
(After Felix von Luschan, Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, Vol.
55, pp. 32, 33, 37); to the right above (From Leonhard
Schultze, Aus Namaland und Kalahari, p. 672); to the right
below, bracelet made of horn (After E. von Sydow, Die Kunst
der Naturvölker und der Vorzeit, p. 158) 23
” 9. Kaffer headrests (After Henrik P. M. Muller and John F.
Snelleman, L’Industrie des Caffres, Pl. XIV, figs. 4 and 5) 23
” 10. Paddle and shield, New Ireland (A. M. N. H. S 2266,
S 1409) 25
” 11. Plan of rawhide box, Sauk and Fox Indians 26
” 12. Rawhide box, Sauk and Fox Indians 26
” 13. Design on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox Indians
(A. M. N. H. 50/3594) 27
” 14. Design on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox Indians
(A. M. N. H. 50/3596) 27
” 15. _a_, Design on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox Indians,
Public Museum of the City of Milwaukee, 30740; _b_, Design
on rawhide for a box, Sauk and Fox Indians
(A. M. N. H. 50/2284) 28
” 16. Fringe from legging, Thompson Indians (From James Teit, The
Thompson Indians, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific
Expedition, Vol. I, fig. 313, p. 384) 29
” 17. Twilled weaving showing alternation of patterns
(A. M N. H. 16/8191) 30
” 18. Carving on bow of Bella Bella canoe, British Columbia
(A. M. N. H.) 30
” 19. Rattle used in twin ceremonial. Kwakiutl Indians,
British Columbia (A. M. N. H. 16/8282) 31
” 20. Base of flint knife, Scandinavia (After Sophus Müller,
Nordische Altertumskunde, fig. 97, p. 190) 31
” 21. Face painting, Tierra del Fuego (After Wilhelm Koppers,
Unter Feuerland-Indianern, Pl. V) 32
” 22. Australian shields (A. M. N. H. S 3957, S 421) 33
” 23. Paleolithic paintings (After Hugo Obermaier, Fossil Man
in Spain, fig. 104, p. 234) 33
” 24. Patterns from bamboo combs (After Vaughn Stevens,
Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, Vol. XXV, Pl. I) 35
” 25. Designs from bamboo spear, New Guinea (Museum für
Völkerkunde, Hamburg. After Ernst Fuhrmann, Neu Guinea,
p. 114) 35
” 26. Etruscan vase (After M. Ebert, Reallexikon der
Vorgeschichte, Vol. III, Pl. XXVIII c, p. 140) 35
” 27. Peruvian designs (After Inca, Vol. I, fig. 32, p. 230) 35
” 28. Painted rawhide bags, Shuswap, British Columbia (From James
Teit, The Shuswap, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific
Expedition, Vol. II, fig. 220, p. 498) 36
” 29. Designs of the Dayak (After Alois Raimund Hein, Die
bildenden Künste bei den Dayaks auf Borneo, Pl. IV, fig. 6;
Pl. V, fig. 1) 37
” 30. Carved board, Kaiserin Augusta Fluss, New Guinea (Museum für
Völkerkunde, Hamburg. After E. Fuhrmann, Neu Guinea, p. 112).
The two reversed spiral elements are indicated by dark and
light shading. 36
” 31. _a_, Designs from pottery of ancient Pueblos (After J. Walter
Fewkes, An Archaeological Collection from Youngs Canyon near
Flagstaff, Arizona, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collection,
Vol. 77, No. 10, Pl. 4_e_).
_b_, Designs from pottery of ancient Pueblos (After J. Walter
Fewkes, Designs on Prehistoric Pottery from Mimbres Valley,
New Mexico, _Ibid._ Vol. 74, No. 6, fig. 36, p. 33) 37
” 32. Bronze ornament, Sweden, 7th Century A. D. (After E. von
Sydow, Die Kunst der Naturvölker und der Vorzeit,
p. 480) 38
” 33. Design from Peruvian textile (After Walter Lehmann,
Kunstgeschichte des alten Peru, Pl. 4, p. 20) 38
” 34. Designs from Peruvian textile (_Ibid._ Pl. 3, p. 16) 39
” 35. Pot of coiled pottery, prehistoric Pueblo Indians
(A. M. N. H.) 40
” 36. Necklace of Thompson Indians (After Gladys A. Reichard,
American Anthropologist, Vol. XXIV, 1922, p. 188) 41
” 37. _a_, Koryak embroidery (From W. Jochelson, The Koryak,
Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. VI, fig. 206,
p. 690). _b_,Koryak embroidery (_Ibid._ fig. 210, p. 693) 43
” 38. _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, Koryak embroideries (_Ibid._ figs.
211-215, p. 693-696) 45
” 39. Peruvian embroidery from Ica (A. M. N. H.) 47
” 40. Peruvian fabric (The Necropolis of Ancon, W. Reiss and A.
Stübel, Vol. II, Pl. 67 _b_, fig. 3) 49
” 41. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 67, fig. 6) 49
” 42. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 48, fig. 2) 50
” 43. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 61) 50
” 44. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 66 _a_, fig. 1) 51
” 45. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 68 _a_, fig. 3) 51
” 46. Peruvian fabric (_Ibid._ Pl. 66, fig. 3) 51
” 47. Patterns from Mexican Codex (Codex Nuttall) 53
” 48. _a_, Pottery vessel from Finland (After M. Ebert,
Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte, Vol. III, Pl. 125 _k_).
_b_, Pottery vessel, Ica, Peru, A. M. N. H. 55
” 49. _a_, _b_, Birchbark vessels from the Amur River (From
Berthold Laufer, The Decorative Art of the Amur Tribes, Jesup
North Pacific Expedition, Vol. IV, Pl. 20). _c_, Birchbark
basket, Shuswap, British Columbia. _d_, _e_, Bark buckets,
Alaska (_c_, _d_, _e_, from James Teit, The Shuswap, Jesup
North Pacific Expedition, Vol. II, figs. 205, 207). 56
” 50. _a_, _b_, Pottery vessels, Chiriqui, Costa Rica (After G. G.
MacCurdy, A Study of Chiriquian Antiquities, Memoirs of the
Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. III [1911],
figs. 92, 85). _c_, Fort Colburne, Ontario (After 31st. Ann.
Archaeological Report, Ontario, 1919, p. 83). 57
” 51. _a_, Part of soapstone kettle; _b_, _c_, _d_, Ivory combs,
Eskimo (From F. Boas, The Eskimo of Baffinland and Hudson
Bay, Bull. A. M. N. H. Vol. XV, 1907, figs. 215, 254) 58
” 52. Wood carving, Bambala, Congo (After Torday and Joyce, Notes
ethnographiques sur les peuples communément appelés Bakuba,
etc. Les Bushongo, Documents ethnographiques concernant les
populations du Congo Belge, Vol. II, Pl. 25, fig. 7) 59
” 53. Pottery vessel, Molkenberg type, Megalithic period (After M.
Ebert, Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte, Vol. III, Pl. 11, p.
84) 60
” 54. Pouch, Arapaho (From A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bull. A. M.
N. H. Vol. XVIII, fig. 23 _c_, p. 89) 60
” 55. Embroidered Moccasin, Apache, A. M. N. H. 50/8622 _b_ 60
” 56. _a_, _b_, _c_, Birchbark vessels, eastern Indians (From
James Teit, The Shuswap, Vol. II, fig. 214). _d_, Birchbark
vessels, Koryak (From W. Jochelson, The Koryak, Jesup North
Pacific Expedition, Vol. VI, fig. 192 _c_, p. 675). 61
” 57. Pottery vessel, Arkansas (After W. H. Holmes, Aboriginal
Pottery of the eastern United States, 20th Annual Report
Bureau of American Ethnology, Pl. XXV) 61
” 58. Imbricated basket, Chilcotin, British Columbia (After James
Teit, The Shuswap, Vol. II, fig. 268, p. 772) 62
” 59. _a_, Embroidery, Huichol Indians, Mexico (From Carl Lumholtz,
Decorative Art of the Huichol Indians, Memoirs A. M. N. H.,
Vol. III, Part 3, fig. 430, p. 303) 65
_b_, Symbolism of the Huichol Indian, _Ibid._ Part. 1, fig.
92, p. 92 66
” 60. Decorated fishskin garment, Amur River (After Berthold
Laufer, The Decorative Art of the Amur Tribes, Jesup North
Pacific Expedition, Vol. IV, Pl. 30) 66
” 61. Upper row, pictographs of Ojibwa Indians; lower row,
pictographs of Dakota Indians (From Garrick Mallery, Picture
Writing of American Indians, 10th Annual Report Bureau of
American Ethnology, figs. 168 and 184 et seq.) 67
” 62. Mexican painting from Codex Borbonicus (After Eduard Seler,
Gesammelte Abhandlungen, Vol. IV, p. 139) 68
” 63. _a_, Carved figure, Philippine Islands (After E. von Sydow,
Die Kunst der Naturvölker und der Vorzeit, p. 273). _b_,
Marble figure representing harpist (After Helmuth Th.
Bossert, Altkreta, fig. 17 _b_.) 69
” 64. Wooden mask, Urua, Congo (After Herbert Kühn, Die Kunst der
Primitiven, Pl. XXIX) 70
” 65. Carved board, Papua Gulf, New Guinea (After Herbert Kühn, Die
Kunst der Primitiven, Pl. LIV) 70
” 66. Egyptian painting (After Heinrich Schäfer, Von Ägyptischer
Kunst fig. 200, p. 257) 71
” 67. Haida drawing representing eagle carrying away a woman;
original by Charles Edensaw 71
” 68. Egyptian drawings, _a_, Bowl and pitcher; _b_, Sleeping
person covered by blanket (After Heinrich Schäfer, Von
Ägyptischer Kunst, p. 111) 75
” 69. Eskimo etching on walrus tusk, Alaska
(A. M. N. H. 60/239) 76
” 70. Bushman rock paintings (After Moszeik, Die Malereien der
Buschmänner in Südafrika, Pl. I, fig. 236) 76
” 71. Paleolithic painting representing bison (After Hugo
Obermaier, Fossil Man in Spain, Pl. I) 77
” 72. Hat of the Nootka Indians (After Handbook of the Ethnographic
collections, British Museum, fig. 235, p. 256) 78
” 73. Koryak carvings (From W. Jochelson, The Koryak, Jesup North
Pacific Expedition, Vol. 6, figs. 170, 172, 175) 79
” 74. Bronze casting, Benin (After Felix von Luschan, Alterthümer
von Benin, Pl. LI) 81
” 75. Headmask, Cross River, Cameroon (After Ernst Vatter,
Religiöse Plastik der Naturvölker, 1926, fig. 57) 82
” 76. Terra cotta head from Ife, Yoruba country (After Herbert
Kühn, Die Kunst der Primitiven, p. 92) 82
” 77. Pottery head from Arkansas (After W. H. Holmes, Aboriginal
Pottery of the eastern United States, 20th Annual Report
Bureau of American Ethnology, Pl. XXX) 85
” 78. Ivory and bone carvings, and tattooing of eastern Eskimo
(From F. Boas, Eskimo of Baffinland and Hudson Bay, Bulletin
A. M. N. H. Vol, XV. figs. 257, 258, 268). 86
” 79. Ornaments of the Auetö, Brazil (After Karl von den Steinen,
Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral Brasiliens, Pl. XXII). 89
” 80. Ornaments of the Karayá (After Paul Ehrenreich, Die
Karayástämme am Rio Araguaya (Goyaz); Veröffentlichungen aus
dem Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin. Vol. II, fig. 11, p. 25).
89
” 81. Basketry patterns from British Guyana, _a_, snake pursuing
frog; _b_, man; _c._, dog; _d-f_, wild nutmeg (From Walter
Edmond Roth, An Introductory Study of the arts, crafts, and
customs of the Guyana Indians, 38th Annual Report Bureau of
American Ethnology, figs. 168, 178). 90
” 82. Basketry patterns from British Guyana; _a_, centiped; _b_,
savannah grass; _c-f_, periwinkles; _g_, butterflies; _h-j_,
snakes, _Ibid._ fig. 169. 91
” 83. Designs of the Cheyenne Indians (After Paul Ehrenreich,
Ethnologisches Notizblatt, Vol. II, No. 1, pp. 27-29, 1899).
92
” 84. Moccasin, Arapaho (After A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bulletin
A. M. N. H. Vol. XVIII, fig. 5_b_, p. 39). 94
” 85. Knife case, Arapaho (_Ibid._ fig. 22, p. 88). 94
” 86. Legging, Sioux Indians (After Clark Wissler, Decorative Art
of the Sioux Indians, Bulletin A. M. N. H. Vol. XVIII, Pl.
LI, fig. 5). 95
” 87. Drum of the Assiniboine (From Robert H. Lowie, The
Assiniboine, Vol. IV, Anthropological Papers A. M. N. H. fig.
11, p. 27). 96
” 88. Rawhide bag, Arapaho (After A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho,
Bulletin A. M. N. H. Vol. XVIII, fig. 33, p. 115). 97
” 89. Design from parfleche, Shoshone (A. M. N. H. 50/2299). 97
” 90. Bamboo case from Friedrich-Wilhelm Hafen, New Guinea, (After
Emil Stephan, Südseekunst, p. 101). 98
” 91. Zuni bowl, broken and edges ground down, (private
property). 98
” 92. Ceremonial object, Huichol Indians, Mexico (From Karl
Lumholtz, Symbolism of the Huichol Indians, Memoirs A. M. N.
H. Vol III, fig. 133, p. 125) 99
” 93. Woven ceremonial object, Huichol Indians, Mexico (From Karl
Lumholtz, Symbolism of the Huichol Indians, _Ibid._ fig. 173,
p. 146). 101
” 94. Design from a pouch, Huichol Indians (From Karl Lumholtz,
Decorative art of the Huichol Indians, Memoirs A. M. N. H.
Vol. III, Pt. 3, fig. 527, p. 325). 101
” 95. Tattooed designs, Marquesas (After Karl von den Steinen, Die
Marquesaner und ihre Kunst, _a_, fig. 103, p. 155; _b_, fig.
101, p. 154; _c_, fig. 99, p. 152; _d_, fig. 100, p. 153;
_e_, fig. 112, p. 163). 101
” 96. Patterns representing the star, Arapaho (After A. L. Kroeber,
Decorative art of the Arapaho, Bulletin A. M. N. H. Vol.
XVIII). 103
” 97. Patterns representing persons (_Ibid._). 104
” 98. Patterns representing butterfly (_Ibid._). 104
” 99. Designs from Neu-Mecklenburg, _a_, Carved bamboo; _b_,
embroidered mat (After Emil Stephan and Fritz Gräbner,
Neu-Mecklenburg, _a_, fig. 120, p. 114; _b._ Pl. I, fig. 3).
104
” 100. Embroidered knife sheath, Arapaho (From A. L. Kroeber,
Decorative art of the Arapaho, Bulletin A. M. N. H. Vol.
XVIII, Pl. 13, fig. 5). 107
” 101. Painted board, Neu-Mecklenburg (After Emil Stephan and Fritz
Gräbner, Neu-Mecklenburg, Pl. IX, fig. 8). 107
” 102. Decorated paddle, Neu-Mecklenburg (_Ibid._ Pl. VI,
fig. 3 b). 107
” 103. Blanket of mountain-goat wool, Tlingit, Alaska (From G. T.
Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket, Memoirs A. M. N. H. Vol. III,
fig. 567, p. 377). 108
” 104. Basketry patterns of the Pomo Indians, California (After
S. A. Barrett, Pomo Indian Basketry, Univ. California
Publications, Vol. 7, No. 3. pp. 180, 182, 187, 190, 204,
232). 109
” 105. Drawn work, Mexico (From Journal of American Folk-lore,
Vol. 33, 1920, p. 73). 110
” 106. Designs of the Ruanda (After Jan Czekanowski,
Wissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der Deutschen Zentral-Afrika
Expedition, 1907-1908, Vol. VI, Part 1, p. 330). 111
” 107. Designs of the Pangwe (After Günther Tessmann, Die Pangwe,
Berlin 1913, Vol. I, fig. 211, p. 254). 112
” 108. Designs of the Bushongo (After E. Torday and T. A. Joyce,
Les Bushongo, Documents ethnographiques concernant les
populations du Congo Belge, figs. 322, 323, 219, 330). 113
” 109. Feet of flat pottery dishes, Chiriqui, Costa Rica (After
G. G. MacCurdy, A Study of Chiriquian Antiquities, Mem.
Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. III [1911],
figs. 140, 141, 139, 135). 114
” 110. Polynesian ornaments (After Charles H. Read, Journal of
the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland,
Vol. 21 [1892] Pl. 12). 115
” 111. Crocodile arrows, New Guinea (After A. C. Haddon, The
Decorative Art of British New Guinea, Cunningham Memoir,
Royal Irish Academy, X [1894] fig. 19). 115
” 112. Designs representing frigate bird and crocodile (_Ibid._
Pl. XII). 116
” 113. Facial urns (After M. Ebert, Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte,
Vol. IV, Pl. 116). 117
” 114. Armadillo designs, Chiriqui (After G. G. MacCurdy, _l. c._
figs. 77, 78) 117
” 115. Designs of the Bushongo representing the head of the
antelope and the beetle (From E. Torday and T. A. Joyce,
Notes ethnographiques sur les peuples communément appelés
Bakuba etc. Les Bushongo, Documents ethnographiques
concernant les populations du Congo Belge, p. 211). 117
” 116. Design representing the buffalo, Arapaho (From A. L.
Kroeber, Decorative Art of the Arapaho, Bulletin
A. M. N. H. Vol. XIII, p. 85). 119
” 117. Designs of North American Indians; the first nine, Arapaho
(After A. L. Kroeber, Decorative Art of the Arapaho,
Bulletin A. M. N. H. Vol. XVIII); the next six, Eastern
Algonquin (After Frank G. Speck, The Double Curve Motive
of Northeastern Algonkian Art, Geological Survey of Canada,
Anthropological Series No. 1); the last line; first,
Hopi; then archaeological specimens, Pueblo region. 120
” 118. Triangular design, prehistoric Pueblo (After J. W. Fewkes,
Preliminary Account of an Expedition to the Pueblo Ruins
near Winslow, Arizona, Smithsonian Report for 1896, Pl. 34).
121
” 119. Alaskan needle cases (After F. Boas, Decorative Designs
of Alaskan Needle Cases, Proceedings United States
National Museum, Vol. 34, p. 321 et seq., 1908). 125
” 120. Reels of Alaskan Eskimo (United States National Museum,
numbers from above downwards, 44 994, 33 095, 38 276, 33 267,
45 110). 126
” 121. Eye shades and vessel, Ammassalik (After W. Thalbitzer,
The Ammassalik Eskimo, Meddelelser om Grønland, Vol. XXXIX,
fig. 278, and after Hjalmar Stolpe, On Evolution in the
Ornamental Art of Savage Peoples, figs. 22, 24, p. 80). 127
” 122. Designs from vessels made of tree calabashes, Oaxaca,
(Private collection). 131
” 123. Fragments of pottery vessels, Texcoco, D. F., Mexico. 132
” 124. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan, D. F., Mexico. 132
” 125. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan, D. F., Mexico. 133
” 126. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan, D. F., Mexico. 135
” 127. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan, D. F., Mexico. 135
” 128. Designs from pottery vessels, Culhuacan, D. F., Mexico. 135
” 129. Alligator designs from Chiriqui pottery (A. M. N. H.
30.0/1881; 7608; 5760; 1098; 5727). 137
” 130. Chinese embroidery representing bats (After A. H. Balfour,
The Evolution of Decorative Art, fig. 18, p. 50). 141
” 131. Shell with representation of rattle snake (After W. H.
Holmes, Art in Shell, 2nd Annual Rep. Bureau of Ethnology,
Pl. 62, 2; Pl. 65, 2, 4, 6; Pl. 66, 2). 142
” 132. Throwing sticks of the Eskimo (_a_, Greenland, _b_,
Ungava Bay, _c_, Cumberland Sound, _d_, Point Barrow, _e_,
Alaska (exact location doubtful), _f_, Cape Nome) (After
Otis T. Mason, Throwing Sticks in the United States National
Museum, Annual Report U. S. Nat. Mus., 1884, p. 279 et
seq.) 145
” 133. Pile cloth, Congo (From Torday and Joyce, Notes
ethnographiques sur les peuples communément appelés Bakuba
etc. Les Bushongo, Documents ethnographiques concernant
les populations du Congo Belge, Vol. II, Pl. XVI, figs. 2
and 4) 154
” 134. Haida painting representing a sea-monster in the form of
a wolf, carrying two whales 159
” 135. Haida drawing representing the story of a young man who
caught a sea-monster 159
” 136. Haida drawing representing part of the raven story 160
” 137. Types of New Zealand spirals 161
” 138. Types of spirals from eastern New Guinea (From E. Fuhrmann,
New Guinea, p. 108) 163
” 139. Spirals from the Amur River (From Berthold Laufer, The
Decorative Art of the Amur Tribes, Jesup North Pacific
Expedition, Vol. IV, Pl. 20, figs. 3 and 4) 163
” 140. Pictographs representing human beings, _a_, Wahpeton Sioux
(After Skinner, Indian Notes and Monographs, Museum of the
American Indian, Heye Foundation, Vol. 4, Pl. 23); _b_,
Menomenee (After Skinner, Anthropological Papers, A. M. N. H.
Vol. 13, fig. 30, p. 159); _c_, Blackfoot (After Clark
Wissler, _ibid._ Vol. 7, fig. 3. p. 40); _d_, Dakota (After
Garrick Mallery, Pictographs of North American Indians);
_e_, Alaskan Eskimo (After W. J. Hoffmann, Graphic Art of
the Eskimo, Report of the United States National Museum,
1895, Pl. 63); _f_, Pencil sketches by Eskimo from the west
coast of Hudson Bay 164
” 141. _a_, _b_, _c_, Pictographs from the Cueva de los Caballos,
_d_, Pictograph of Bushmen (After Obermaier and Wernert)
165
” 142. Zuni pot (After C. F. Lummis, Mesa, Canyon and Pueblo,
p. 369) 167
” 143. Haussa embroideries; (_a_, After Lepage, La décoration
primitive; _b_, _c_, _d_. After Felix von Luschan, Beiträge
zur Völkerkunde der deutschen Kolonien, p. 50) 168
” 144. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox (A M. N. H., _a_, 50/3597;
_b_, 50/2285) 170
” 145. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox (A. M. N. H. _a_, 50/5212;
_b_, 50/3595) 171
” 146. Painted rawhides, Sauk and Fox (A. M. N. H. _a_, 50/2282;
_b_, 50/3630) 172
” 147. Painted rawhide, Ioway (Public Museum City of Milwaukee,
30607) 173
” 148. _a_, Painted rawhide, Ioway (Public Museum City of
Milwaukee, 30609); _b_, Painted rawhide, Otoe (Public Museum
City of Milwaukee, 30677) 174
” 149. Design from pouch, Ojibwa, (A. M. N. H. 50/4596) 175
” 150. Design from two sides of pouch, Potawatomi, (A. M. N. H.
50.1/7092). 175
” 151. Types of parfleche and pouch painting, _a_, Arapaho
(A. M. N. H.), 176
_b_, _c_, Shoshone (A. M. N. H. 50/2294, 2432). 177
” 152. Arapaho designs (From A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bull.
A. M. N. H. vol. 18.) _a_, Moccasin, Pl. 2, fig. 5; _b_,
Toilet bag, fig. 28; _c_, Small pouch, Pl. 4, fig. 2;
_d_, Small pouch, Pl. 4, fig. 11; _e_, Knife scabbard,
Pl. 2, fig. 13; _f_, Knife scabbard, fig. 22; _g_,
Woman’s leggings, Pl. 3, fig. 5; _h_, Woman’s leggings,
fig. 6; _i_, Small pouch, fig. 23; _j_, Small pouch, Pl.
7, fig. 14; _k_, Moccasin, Pl. 3, fig. 2; _l_, Woman’s
leggings, Pl. 4, fig. 5; _m_, Toilet bag, fig. 25; _n_,
Toilet bag, fig. 27; _o_, Woman’s leggings, Pl. 2, fig.
5; _p_, Pouch, Pl. 3, fig. 12; _q_, Pouch, Pl. 4, fig.
12; _r_, Moccasin, Pl. 2, fig. 2; _s_, Woman’s work bag,
Pl. 2, fig. 15; _t_, Scabbard, Pl. 5, fig. 13. 178
” 153. Sioux designs (From Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the
Sioux Indians, Bull. A. M. N. H., Vol. 18.) _a_, Moccasin,
fig. 98; _b_, Knife scabbard, Pl. 4, fig. 49; _c_, Small
pouch, Pl. 3, fig. 41; _d_, Pipe bag, Pl. 2, fig. 47; _e_,
Pipe bag, Pl. 2, fig. 42; _f_, Pipe bag, Pl. 3, fig. 42;
_g_, Cradle, fig. 42; _h_, Pipe bag, Pl. 1, fig. 42; _i_,
Small pouch, Pl. 4, fig. 41; _j_, Pipe bag, Pl. 1, fig.
47; _k_, Pipe bag, Pl. 3, fig. 43; _l_, Pipe bag, fig.
99; _m_, Woman’s leggings, fig. 74; _n_, Cradle, fig.
73; _o_, Small pouch, Pl. 1, fig. 41; _p_, Woman’s leggings,
Pl. 2, fig. 51; _q_, Woman’s leggings, Pl. 5, fig. 51;
_r_, Small pouch, Pl. 2, fig. 41; _s_, Pipe bag, Pl. 1,
fig. 43; _t_, Pipe bag, Pl. 4, fig. 47; _u_, Scabbard,
Pl. 2, fig. 49; _v_, Small pouch, Pl. 3, fig. 50; _w_,
Knife scabbard, Pl. 6, fig. 49; _x_, Pipe bag, Pl. 3,
fig. 47; _y_, Small pouch, Pl. 5, fig. 40; _z_, Pipe bag,
fig. 100; _z^1_, Pipe bag, Pl. 2, fig. 43. 179
” 154. Tlingit helmet (A. M. N. H. E/3453). 184
” 155. Mask representing dying warrior, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
E/2501). 184
” 156. Carved head used in ceremonial, Kwakiutl Indians, Museum für
Völkerkunde, Berlin. 185
” 157. Carvings representing the beaver from models of Haida
totem poles carved in slate (A. M. N. H. 16/556, 16/551).
186
” 158. Carving from handle of spoon representing beaver, Tlingit
(A. M. N. H. 19/1129). 186
” 159. Headdress representing beaver; a dragon-fly is shown on
the chest of the beaver, Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/245). 186
” 160. Painting for a house-front placed over the door,
representing the beaver, Kwakiutl Indians. 188
” 161. Halibut hook with design representing a sculpin
swallowing a fish, Tlingit (A. M. N. H. E/1251). 188
” 162. Part of a totem pole with a design representing a
sculpin, Tsimshian (A. M. N. H. 16/567) 188
” 163. Woolen legging with appliqué designs representing
sculpin, Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/328) 189
” 164. Facial painting representing the sculpin 191
” 165. Headdress representing a hawk, Tsimshian (A. M. N. H.
16/252) 191
” 166. Handle of a spoon made of mountain-goat horn; lowest
figure representing a hawk; upper figure representing a
man holding a dragon-fly, probably Tsimshian (A. M. N. H.
16/105) 191
” 167. Rattle with design of a hawk, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
E/1371) 191
” 168. Dish made of horn of big-horn-sheep, Tlingit. (A. M. N. H.
19/696) 191
” 169. Facial painting representing hawk 191
” 170. Headdress representing an eagle bearing a frog on its
chest, Tsimshian (A. M. N. H. 16/249) 191
” 171. Housepost representing eagle above, cormorant below,
Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/3686) 192
” 172. Painting on paddle representing hawk, Kwakiutl 193
” 173. Painting on back and one end of a settee representing man
and hawk, Kwakiutl 193
” 174. Handle of spoon of mountain-goat horn representing
dragon-fly, Tlingit (A. M. N. H. E/280) 193
” 175. Berry spoon with engraving representing dragon-fly (from
J. R. Swanton, The Haida Indians, Jesup North Pacific
Expedition, Vol. V, fig. 24 _b_, p. 148) 193
” 176. _a_—_e_, Carvings from handles of spoons of
mountain-goat horn representing killer-whale, Tlingit
(A. M. N. H.) 195
” 177. Rattle representing killer-whale, Haida (A. M. N. H.
16/304) 195
” 178. Wooden float representing killer-whale, Haida (A. M. N. H.
16/8471) 195
” 179. Masks and dishes representing the killer-whale, Kwakiutl,
A. M. N. H. (from F. Boas, The Kwakiutl Indians, Jesup
North Pacific Expedition, Vol. V) 196
” 180. Helmet representing the killer-whale, Tlingit, Museum of
Academy of Sciences, Leningrad 196
” 181. Carvings from the handles of spoons of mountain-goat horn
representing the bear (A. M. N. H.) 196
” 182. Berry spoons representing bear (U. S. National Museum);
_a_, Tsimshian, 16253; _b_, Tsimshian, 16254; _c_,
Tlingit, 20820; _d_, berry spoon (U. S. Nat. Mus.,
20825) 197
” 183. Carving representing a sea-monster, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
19/377) 199
” 184. Carvings from handles of spoons made of mountain-goat
horn representing a sea-monster (A. M. N. H.) 199
” 185. Part of totem pole carved in slate representing shark
surmounted by an eagle, Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/1161) 199
” 186. Handle of a dagger representing the head of a shark,
Tlingit (A. M. N. H. E/2037) 199
” 187. Wooden pipe representing a shark, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
19/98) 200
” 188. Tattooing representing a shark, Haida (From a
photograph) 200
” 189. Handles of spoons representing a sea-monster, Haida
(A. M. N. H., _a_, E/298; _b_, E/826; _c_, E/296) 201
” 190. Handles of spoons made of mountain-goat representing
snail, Tlingit (A. M. N. H., _a_, 19/1116; _b_, E/828) 201
” 191. Types of eyes of various animals, Kwakiutl. _a_, sea bear;
_b_, grizzly bear; _c_, beaver; _d_, wolf; _e_, eagle;
_f_, raven; _g_, killer-whale 203
” 192. _a_, whale; _b_, sea lion; _c_, frog; _d_, double-headed
serpent; _e_, man; _f_, merman; _g_, spirit of the sea 204
” 193. Styles of tails, Kwakiutl; above bird, below sea mammals
205
” 194. Styles of wing designs and of fin designs, Kwakiutl; _a_,
fin; _b_, wing 205
” 195. Elements used in representing the halibut, Kwakiutl 206
” 196. Elements used in representing the wolf, Kwakiutl 206
” 197. Painting from bow of a canoe, representing the wolf,
Kwakiutl 207
” 198. Masks and dishes representing the wolf, Kwakiutl (_a-e_
from F. Boas, The Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island, Jesup
North Pacific Expedition, Vol. 5, Pls. 39, 42-44; _g_
British Museum; _h_ A. M. N. H. 16/384) 208
” 199. House post, Haida (From John R. Swanton, The Haida
Indians, Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. V, fig. 10)
209
” 200. Designs from a set of gambling sticks. (From John R.
Swanton, _Ibid._ figs. 26-31) 210
” 201. Designs from a set of gambling sticks (_Ibid._) 211
” 202. Chilkat blanket (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat blanket,
fig. 546) 213
” 203. Chilkat blanket (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat blanket,
fig. 561) 213
” 204. Chilkat blanket (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat blanket,
fig. 563) 214
” 205. Chilkat blanket (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat blanket,
fig. 580) 215
” 206. Model of totem pole with three figures representing, from
below upward; sculpin, dog-fish, and sea-monster, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/550) 216
” 207. Mask representing the hawk, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
E/1591) 217
” 208. Mask with painting symbolizing the flicker, Tlingit
(A. M. N. H. E/337) 217
” 209. Mask with eyebrows symbolizing the squid, Tlingit
(A. M, N. H. 19/920) 218
” 210. Mask with painting symbolizing the killer-whale, Tlingit
(A. M N. H. E/1629) 218
” 211. Fish-club representing the killer-whale, Tlingit,
(A. M. N. H. E/242) 219
” 212. Wood carving representing dorsal fin of the killer-whale,
Tlingit, (A. M. N. H. E/923) 219
” 213. Model of a totem pole representing a shark, Haida,
(A. M. N. H. 16/1167) 219
” 214. Speaker’s staff representing a shark, Tlingit (A. M. H. N.
19/790) 220
” 215. Berry spoon with designs representing the eagle (From
J. R. Swanton, The Haida Indians, Jesup North Pacific
Expedition, Vol. V, fig. 24 _a_, p. 148) 221
” 216. Halibut hook representing a beaver, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
19/1152) 221
” 217. Part of totem pole representing a shark, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/1154) 221
” 218. Dancing-hat representing a killer-whale, Tsimshian
(A. M. N. H. 16/580) 221
” 219. Wooden hat with carving representing the sculpin
(A. M. N. H. 16/282) 221
” 220. Grease dish representing seal 222
” 221. Design on a bracelet representing a bear, Nass River
Indians (A. M. N. H. E/2428) 223
” 222. Painting representing bear, Haida 224
” 223. Painting from a house-front representing a bear,
Tsimshian 225
” 224. Wooden hat painted with the design of a sculpin, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/281) 225
” 225. Hat made of spruce roots painted with design of a beaver,
Haida or Tsimshian, (A. M. N. H. 16/692) 226
” 226. Tattooing representing a duck, Haida 226
” 227. Tattooing representing a raven, Haida 226
” 228. Dancing-apron woven of mountain-goat wool, design
representing a beaver, Tsimshian (A. M. N. H. 16/349) 227
” 229. Painted legging with design representing a beaver sitting
on a man’s head, Haida, (A. M. N. H. 16/330) 227
” 230. Gambling-leather with engraved design representing a
beaver, Tlingit (A. M. N. H. 19/1057) 228
” 231. Embroidered legging representing a sea-monster with a
bear’s head and body of the killer-whale, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/334) 228
” 232. Painting representing a dog-fish, Haida 229
” 233. Slate dish design representing a shark, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/603) 229
” 234. Painting on edge of a blanket representing a
killer-whale, Tlingit (A. M. N. H. E/1502) 230
” 235. Model of totem pole representing a sea-monster, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/544) 231
” 236. Model of totem pole representing a sculpin, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/1155) 231
” 237. Model of totem pole representing a sea-monster devouring
a fish, Haida (A. M. N. H.) 232
” 238. Slate carving representing the sea-monster Wasgo, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/687) 233
” 239. Tattooing representing the fabulous sea-monster
Ts’um’a´ks, Haida 233
” 240. Slate dish with design representing a killer-whale,
Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/605) 234
” 241. Drum painted with design of an eagle, Tsimshian
(A. M. N. H. 16/748) 234
” 242. Tattooing representing the moon, Haida 234
” 243. Carving on the end of a food tray representing a hawk,
Tlingit (A. M. N. H. E/1236) 234
” 244. Painting from a house-front representing thunder-bird,
Kwakiutl 236
” 245. Model of totem pole with design representing a
killer-whale, Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/1166) 237
” 246. Painting for a box front, design representing a frog,
Haida 238
” 247. Painting for a house-front with design representing a
killer-whale, Kwakiutl 238
” 248. Painting for a house-front with design representing a
killer-whale, Kwakiutl 239
” 249. Painting on a paddle representing porpoise and seal,
Kwakiutl 240
” 250. Painting for a house-front representing a raven,
Kwakiutl 241
” 251. Painting for a house-front representing a thunder-bird,
Kwakiutl 242
” 252. Painting for a house-front representing a whale,
Kwakiutl 243
” 253. Painting for a house-front representing a raven,
Kwakiutl, (1) lower jaw; (2) tongue; (3) chest; (4)
feet; (5) legs; (6) wings 244
” 254. Painting from the edge of a blanket representing a
sea-monster, Northern British Columbia (A. M. N. H.
16/355) 244
” 255. Design on a silver bracelet representing a beaver,
Haida (A. M. N. H. E/2462) 245
” 256. Design on a silver bracelet representing a sea-monster,
Haida (A. M. N. H. E/2461) 245
” 257. Design on a silver bracelet representing a hawk, Haida
(A. M. N. H. E/2463) 245
” 258. Slate dish with design representing a sea-monster, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/611) 246
” 259. Front of a slate box with design representing a
sea-monster, Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/687) 247
” 260. Slate slab with design representing a sea-monster, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/1149) 247
” 261. Design from the end of a food tray representing a shark,
Tlingit (A. M. N. H. 16/1187) 248
” 262. Slate dish with design representing a sculpin, Haida
(A. M. N. H. 16/882) 248
” 263. Front of a slate box with design representing a fish,
Haida (A. M. N. H. 16/687) 249
” 264. Body painting representing the bear, Kwakiutl 250
” 265. Body painting representing the frog, Kwakiutl 251
” 266. Design elements from Tlingit blankets (From G. T. Emmons,
The Chilkat Blanket, fig. 559, p. 366) 253
” 267. Schematic design showing the arrangement of the central
field of the Chilkat blanket 258
” 268. General plans of Tlingit blankets 258
” 269. Chilkat blankets (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat blanket,
fig. 548 _b_, fig. 560 _a_) 259
” 270. Chilkat blankets (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 560 _b_ and fig. 562 _b_) 260
” 271. Chilkat blankets, _a-b_, United States National Museum
(From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket, fig. 564) 261
” 272. Chilkat blanket (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 571, p. 381) 261
” 273. Chilkat blankets (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
figs. 570 _b_, p. 380, 572 _a_, p. 382) 262
” 274. Front, reverse and side of a painted box (From G. T.
Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket, fig. 551 _a_, p. 356, fig.
552, p. 357) 263
” 275. Painted and carved box front (From G. T. Emmons, The
Chilkat Blanket, fig. 551, p. 356) 264
” 276. Four sides of a painted box, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
E/652) 264
” 277. Four sides of a painted box, Tlingit (A. M. N. H.
E/1579) 265
” 278. Front and side of a painted box (From G. T. Emmons, The
Chilkat Blanket, fig. 553 _d_, p. 358) 266
” 279. Front, reverse and side of a carved box (From G. T.
Emmons The Chilkat Blanket, fig. 553 _a_ and _b_ p. 358)
267
” 280. Carved boxes (From Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket, fig. 556,
_a_, _b_, p. 362) 268
” 281. Carved box, Tlingit (A. M. N. H. 19/1231) 269
” 282. Carved trays (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
figs. 556 _c-e_, and 557 _d_, pp. 362, 363) 270
” 283. Carved trays (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 557 _a-c_, _e_, _f_, p. 363, and A. M. N. H.
19/953) 272
” 284. Carved trays (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 554) 273
” 285. Designs on Tlingit armor (From photograph from specimens
in the Museum of the Academy of Sciences, Leningrad) 274
” 286. Painted tray (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 558 _a_, p. 364) 275
” 287. Painted boxes (From G. T. Emmons, The Chilkat Blanket,
fig. 558, _b-d_, p. 364) 276
” 288. Horn spoons showing carving on the back (A. M. N. H.).
_a_, 16/8799 representing sea-monster, _b_, 16/8791
representing the hawk, _c_, 16/8792 representing the
beaver (?), _d_, 16/8796 representing the raven, _e_,
16/8795 representing the killer-whale, _f_, 16/8798,
representing the raven, _g_, 16/8794 representing dlia
(?), _h_, 16/8793 representing the sun 277
” 289. Dish of horn of big-horn-sheep representing the bear
(Private Property) 278
” 290. Mask of Kwakiutl Indians used in winter ceremonial;
according to some representing fool dancer, according to
others The-One-Shining-Down (After L. Adam,
Nordwest-amerikanische Indianer Kunst, Pl. 19) 279
” 291. Ancient type of Kwakiutl box (A. M. N. H. 16/8117) 281
” 292. _a_, Food tray (A. M. N. H. 16/8215), _b_, Bucket
(16/2243), Kwakiutl 282
” 293. Small boxes (_a_, 16/2248, _b_, 16/8148), Kwakiutl 282
” 294. Combs (A. M. N. H. _a_, 16/2299, _b_, 16/8911, _c_,
16/8180, _d_, 16/8235), Kwakiutl 282
” 295. Bone club and sword (A. M. N. H. _a_, 16/8274, _b_,
16/971), Kwakiutl 282
” 296. Spindle whirls, Ethnographisches Museum, Berlin, Lower
Fraser River 283
” 297. Ladle made of big-horn-sheep horn, Columbia River 283
” 298. Clubs made of bone of whale. _a_, From Nootka, collected
by Captain Cook (British Museum, Cat. No. N. W. C. 42);
_b_, From Nootka (British Museum, Cat. No. N. W. C. 47);
_c_, From Columbia River (Oregon Historical Society, Cat.
No. 385, List 38); _d_, From Nootka, collected by Captain
Cook, 1778 (Ethnographical Museum, Florence); _e_, From
Barclay Sound, collected by Mr. A. Jacobsen (Museum für
Völkerkunde, Berlin, Cat. No. IV. A 1574); _f_, From
Nootka, collected by Captain Cook (British Museum, Cat.
No. N. W. C. 41); _g_, From shell-heap at Cadboro Bay
collected by Mr. J. Maynard (Provincial Museum, Victoria,
Cat. No. 769); _h_, From Neah Bay, collected by Hon.
James Wickersham (U. S. National Museum, Cat. No. 198032);
_i_, Collected by Vancouver (British Museum, Van. 93);
_j_, From Nootka (collection of Mr. W. Sparrow Simpson,
British Museum, Cat. No. 9383); _k_, From Upper Columbia
River, collected by Col. Brooks, U. S. A., about 1810,
property of Mr. M. F. Savage, New York (A. M. N. H. cast
No. 16/8578); _l_, British Museum, Cat. No. 78-11-1.623;
_m_, From Nootka (British Museum, Cat. No. 8766); _n_,
University Museum, Cambridge, Eng. Cat. No. R. D.
112 d 284
” 299. Clubs made of bone of whale. _a_, From Quamichan
Indians, collected by Dr. C. F. Newcombe (Field
Museum of Natural History, Chicago, Cat. No. 85348);
_b_, From shell-heap, Plumper’s Pass, collected by Mr.
Eduard Lomas (Provincial Museum, Victoria, Cat. No. 770);
_c_, From Neah Bay, collected by Hon. James Wickersham
(U. S. National Museum, Cat. No. 198033); _d_, From
Nuchatlath, collected by Mr. A. Jacobsen (Museum für
Völkerkunde, Berlin, Cat. No. IV A 1215); _e_, From
Hesquiath, collected by Mr. A. Jacobsen (Museum für
Völkerkunde, Berlin, Cat. No. IV A 1573); _f_, 16/2106
From Clayoquath, collected by Mr. Fillip Jacobsen;
_g_, 16/912 Bishop Collection from British Columbia;
_h_, 200/1471 Made of serpentine, from Blalock Island,
Wash., opposite Umatilla, Ore., collected by Mr. D. W.
Owen; _i_, From Cadboro Bay, collected by Mr. James
Deans (Provincial Museum, Victoria, Cat. No. 774);
_j_, From Fort Vancouver, Wash., about 1830 (Academy
of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia); _k_, From Neah Bay,
collected by Hon. James Wickersham (from cast in U. S.
National Museum, Cat. No. 198031); _l_, Peabody Academy
of Sciences, Salem, Mass., Cat. No. E. 6640; _m_, _n_,
From Nootka, collected by Capt. James Magee about 1794
(Peabody Museum, Cambridge, Mass., Cat. Nos. 256, 255);
_o_, From Neah Bay, collected by Hon. James Wickersham
(from cast in U. S. National Museum, Cat. No. 198030);
_p_, 16/855, From shell-heap at Cadboro Bay; _q_, 16/911
Bishop Collection; _r_, 16/1100 Excavated on Songish
Reservation 286
” 300. House posts, Lower Fraser River, from photograph by
Harlan I. Smith 288
” 301. Basket, Lower Chehalis (Private Property) 289
” 302. Designs on matting (A. M. N. H. _a_, 16/9990; _b_,
16/8222), Kwakiutl 289
” 303. Woven hat of spruce root, Kwakiutl (A. M. N. H.
16/9993) 290
” 304. Decorative designs from Tlingit basketry (From G. T.
Emmons, The Basketry of the Tlingit Indians) 291
” 305. Decorative designs from Tlingit basketry (From G. T.
Emmons, The Basketry of the Tlingit Indians) 293
” 306. _a_, Rawhide pouch, Salish or Chinook, collected by
Wilkes, 1840; _b_, Design from parfleche, Fort Colville,
Washington (United States National Museum, 2618 and 672)
296
” 307. Scraper of bone, Tahltan (Private Property) 297
” 308. Detail of imbricated basketry 297
EXPLANATION OF PLATES
Plate I. Basketry of Maidu (From Roland B. Dixon, Basketry Designs
of California, Bull. Am. Museum of Natural History,
Vol. 17). opp. p. 18
” II. Body Painting of an Andaman Islander (From Brown, The
Andaman Islanders) 32
” III. Melanesian House 34
” IV. Peruvian Textiles (From Charles W. Mead, Boas Anniversary
Volume, Pl. X) 46
” V. Kumiss Goblets of the Yakut (From W. Jochelson, Boas
Anniversary Volume, Pl. XXI) 54
” VI. Shaman’s Dress, Amur River (A. M. N. H.) 66
” VII. Woven Pouch, British Columbia (A. M. N. H.) 124
” VIII. Woven Blanket, New Zealand, United States National
Museum 182
” IX. Carved Figure, British Columbia, Linden Museum,
Stuttgart 184
” X. Chilkat Blanket, Ethnological Museum, Copenhagen 278
” XI. Cedarbark Blanket, British Columbia, British Museum 278
” XII. Blankets of Mountain-goat Wool, Bella Coola, British
Columbia 278
” XIII. House Post, near Eburne, Fraser River Delta, British
Columbia 288
” XIV. Tlingit Baskets (From G. T. Emmons, The Basketry of the
Tlingit Indians) 294
” XV. Imbricated Baskets from British Columbia and Washington 298
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface 1
Mental attitude of primitive people 1
Primitive culture, historical growth 4
The object of the investigation is a study of dynamic conditions
of art growth 7
Acknowledgments 8
I. Introduction 9
What is art? 9
Technical perfection in art 10
Emotional appeal of contents of art colors 12
Historical notations 13
II. The formal elements in art 17
Virtuosity 17
Regularity of form and virtuosity 19
Lack of virtuosity and artistic form 22
Lack of effect of artistic form 25
The plain, strong line and regular curve 31
Symmetry 32
Inverted symmetry 36
Rhythm 40
Marginal designs 55
Decoration of prominent places 60
Conclusion 62
III. Representative art 64
Representation and representative art 64
Primitive symbolic and realistic representation 69
Influence of technique upon style of representation 81
IV. Symbolism 88
Wide distribution of symbolic interpretation 88
Lack of stability of explanation 102
Lack of coherence in symbols 106
Design names 109
Studies in conventionalization 113
Geographical distribution of explanations of similar designs 118
Reading in of meanings 121
Development of geometrical form according to representative
tendencies 124
Stability of patterns of action as against instability of
interpretation 128
Change of type due to slovenly execution 130
Technical motives applying to representations 138
Effect of decorative field 141
Effect of symbolic methods of representation 143
V. Style 144
The problem of style 144
Motor habits and form 145
Concentration of forms 148
Transfer of forms in new materials 150
Technical determination of form 153
Individuality of style 153
The artist in his cultural setting 155
Control of style over invention 156
Formal elements of style 161
Dissemination of art forms and local developments 161
Diversity of style in the same tribe and community 180
VI. The art of the Northwest coast of North America 183
Symbolic representations of animal forms 186
The beaver 186
The sculpin 188
The hawk and the eagle 190
The dragon-fly 192
The killer-whale 194
The bear 197
The sea-monster 198
The frog 198
The shark 198
Summary of symbols 202
Minor symbols are not strictly normative 207
The wolf; variations of form in representations of same animal 213
Variations in interpretation 214
Use of fragmentary symbols 216
Adaptation of animal forms to the decorative field 218
Formal elements in animal representations 221
Design arrangement on Chilkat blankets 257
Design arrangement on boxes 262
Design arrangement on food trays 270
Design arrangement on square boxes 275
Geometrical elements 279
Older art styles of the Gulf of Georgia 284
Realistic representations 285
Geometrical designs in basketry 289
Art of neighboring tribes 294
VII. Primitive literature, music, and dance 299
General occurrence of literature, music, and dance 299
Relation between song, music, and dance 303
Primitive prose 303
Rhythm 310
Emphasis 317
Symmetry 320
Metaphor 320
Poetic description 325
Local culture reflected in literary form 327
Symbolic meaning of narrative 337
Different literary styles are found in the same tribe 337
Distribution of literary forms 338
Music 340
Dance 344
Conclusion 349
Text figures 357
Explanation of plates 373
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
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corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the
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predominant preference was found in the original book.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
Pg 86: “underly” replaced by “underlie”
95: “Arapho” replaced by “Arapaho”
96: “rater” replaced by “rather”
96: “Arapho” replaced by “Arapaho”
98: “cocanut” replaced by “coconut”
103: “Arapho” replaced by “Arapaho”
106: “Arapho” replaced by “Arapaho”
131: “Oxaca” replaced by “Oaxaca”
147: “Czekanowsky” replaced by “Czekanowski”
163: “Wahpaton” replaced by “Wahpeton”
199: “sourmounted” replaced by “surmounted”
204: “brings” replaced by “beings”
223: “twowhile” replaced by “two whole”
243: “then” replaced by “than”
294: “wo” replaced by “so”
335: “woes” replaced by “woos”
336: “feasts” replaced by “feast”
341: “timber” replaced by “timbre”
345: “tapfrer” replaced by “tapfer”
364: “Wahpaton” replaced by “Wahpeton”
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