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Baule Trance Figures: Beauty Tames the Beast

Sept. 19, 2016. As we move our art collection from the condo to the cabin, I remind myself that many of the items are not just knick-knacks to be shuffled from shelf, to box, to shelf. The heart of the collection is sacred folkart—pieces with deep meaning and great power. I wrote the following in 2013, presented here again, with revisions.

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May 18, 2013. This morning I entered the mysterious world of the Baule tribe, who live in Ivory Coast, Africa.

Before bed last night I did my occasional checking of auction catalogs for items in our collection, to keep my eye on the markets. I got pulled in by figures from the Baule people.

As it happens, Jim had a book.

What struck me first was the careful delineation the people make between the village and the wild. Village life is meant to be quiet, serene, safe. It looks inward upon itself and removes all evidence of the wild—for example, by replacing the big forest trees with small bushes and fruit trees. Aha (I think), order being imposed upon chaos; pattern being imposed on unpredictability. Sacred space.

The statues such as ours (see image above) have a specific purpose. They are ritually crafted under the careful supervision of a komien, a trance diviner (who we might call a fortune-teller, except with way more community respect).

The finished wooden figure seduces untamed and possibly mischievous bush spirits (asye usu). The more beautiful the figure, the more attractive it is to wild powers. The spirit takes up residence in the statue and becomes "localized" and "civilized." (Maybe like a genie in a bottle?) It is now partnered with the komien. It is alive. When the health or welfare of the village requires a "consultation" with the asye usu, the komien dons his or her ritual "vestments" and, with the help of drumming musicians, dances into a trance. The spirit leaves the statue and becomes one with the komien.

Yes—the theme of imposing order upon chaos. The sacred act. I love the role of beauty as the powerful engine behind it.

This seems to be the story of human nature. We tame. We seek to exercise dominion over nature. The world is crazy and unpredicable. Death and destruction explode around us. Not knowing "what next" frightens us to the core. But we are smart. We are resourceful. We stand ready to believe that the untamed powers of God, nature, and the universe can be wrestled into some kind of container— a body of knowledge, a religion, a taxonomy, a government, an ideology, a city—to work on our behalf.

Jim and I talked about it today. Isn't collecting a way of organizing a combination of objects and knowledge according to certain criteria and standards? Isn't managing the collections about imposing (my) order on (let's say, Jim's) exuberance?

But here's what I'm left wondering: As postmoderns, do we adequately factor in the power of beauty to tap into the wisdom of the universe? I notice too many YouTube videos on how to decorate from the dollar store. One TEDx talk hailed the end of "materialism" because everything we need in the future will be fabricated by 3D printers. Aren't we already drowning in a sea of extruded throwaway plastic? Art—the hand of a craftsman driven by the soul of a visionary—fades into decor. Do we head for the craft show to buy a painting to go with our new couch? Or to find something with a resident spirit who will enchant us with her wisdom?

The woman-and-baby statue above is sitting next to my computer as I write. I wonder what wild spirit of nurturing and fierce protection resides inside this mother. If I worked myself into a trance, would she enter me for a moment and tell me some small truth I need to hear today?

Art is power.

Reading

African Art Western Eyes. Susan Vogel. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997

The Sacred and The Profane: The Nature of Religion. Mircea Eliade. Harcourt Brace, 1959.

Note

The question always lingers: how did these mystical figures find their way into a New York collection? According to Vogel, the trance diviner may die, but the asye usu does not.

After the diviner's death, all his or her objects may be often wiped with kaolin and water and protected by a cotton bag. They may remain stored in this state for decades, protected by the matrilineal heirs while they await the signal (normally possession) that another family member has been chosen by the spirits. Deaths and misfortunes are attributed to the anger of asye usu... whose divination cults are not continued. [Vogel]

What happened? It is likely a variation on the same old story—disruptions of traditional cultures through colonialist/nationalist struggles, economics, Islamic conversions (with its prohibition against graven images), Christian conversions (with its prohibition against idolatry), or movement to modernized urban settings.

Jim got them through a Rochester dealer who haunted the regional estate sales. So their path is unknown. But they are safe and cared for.

5.18.2013 (edited 9.19.2016, 2.5.2026)

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