By Simon Mol (Moleke Mo-Njie)
(The Second Renaissance; World Forum of Cyframatics - Villa San Carlo Borromeo, Milan (Italy), Nov’ 29-Dec’ 5, 2005)
On ALITALIA flight nr. 555 from Warsaw to Milan last Tuesday, Dec’ 29th, I picked a copy of the Financial Times and flipped through to the space reserved for Art critics – on page 10. An article written by Samson Spanier tilted The Critics, captured my attention. Somewhere between Spanier states and I quote, ‘Giambologna, the great sculptor after Michelangelo’s death, was said to care nothing for money because he wanted only artistic glory’. True to this line of thinking, here is what Simone Fortuna wrote to the Duke of Urbino in 1581 about Giambologna: "He is the best sort of man one could ever want to meet, not greedy at all, as one can tell from his being so poor: all that he wants is glory and his greatest ambition is to rival Michelangelo.
I came across two interesting coincidences while digging up information on Giambologna; 1. that he was an immigrant like myself, who eventually became one of the most influential sculptors in Italy between 1550 and 1600 and 2. he was as poor as a Church rat, also like myself. The fact that he believed more in artistic excellence than in acquiring riches through his work, tells the sort of person he was. This simple fact which could be easily ignored, illustrates the fact that arts in its original state is inspired by something so ‘pure’ that It cannot be corrupted by wealth or time. And because it resists corruptible transformation, it is ready to disappear rather than surrender to external influences. Of course it could be improved upon, but even in such a case its original state cannot be affected. It is acceptable to improve on the technology of a machine with the passage of time for instance. But it is unthinkable for a literary researcher to add a single word to a poem, play or prose written centuries in the past. Such a monstrous venture would result in an artistic taboo of grave magnitude. This goes to say that art is the most original physical object in existence.
Nature shed its states occasionally; snakes, trees, etc. Humans are today indulging in cloning and other forms of transplantation, meaning most physical manifestations are subjected to change, deliberate or otherwise. But not so with a piece of finished art. In fact, even art thieves have respect for this and they wouldn't dare add or subtract from a piece of artwork for the sake of improvement. They might change the label of reproduce a fake, but this is another matter. Art therefore epitomises finality and to an extent perfection. It might not be so for the artist, but it is so for the beholder. Even if it is ugly, it still has the power to inspire something better.
To fully grasp therefore the underlining power that inspires an original piece of art like that of Giambologna and others, or the concept of an artistic abstract _expression, requires a profound knowledge of the spiritual mechanism of the artist and his environment. This could be seen and felt in reflections emitted by his culture, customs and accompanying rituals. My complex cultural, historical and linguistic background supports this claim.
At birth fate granted me first and foremost the unique identity of the Bakweri people of Cameroon. Through this I was vested with a dual spiritual identity; that of the African belief-system and later Catholicism. I was later introduced to the identity of the historical, geographical and political entity called Cameroon, a name which stems from the Portuguese name for shrimps, cameroes. The Portuguese we should remember, discovered Cameroon in the 15th centuries through their adventurers who were searching for lands to conquer. Later came the Germans, followed by the French and the British. All these powers though they appeared to have left after independence, never really left at all. They planted their cultures and languages, made sure they were doing well, before packing their colonial bags. So they are still very much there today. And their presence, artistically speaking, culminated in an equally complex art-form in terms of the artistic creations of the people of Cameroon. The success of the Cameroon national soccer team called the Indomitable Lions, is an example. Even the naming of the team after the Lion is a manifestation of totemic ritualism. We see here the merging of culture, ritual and arts to create a powerful image of strength and courage.
As time went on and my consciousness expanded, I became aware of my Africanness, which emerged and imposed itself on me like the roots of a giant tree. Having been introduced by fate, events and politics to Polish and eventually European realities and cultures today, I feel properly sheltered by the hood of universal citizenship.
I was able to accept each of this realities; that of the Bakweri, Cameroon, Africa, Poland, Italy, Europe and the world better through the spectrum of art. No other means could have introduced me better to these. The Cha-cha dance of the Bakweri people along with the ceremonies of the ritualistic Elephant (Male) dance, invokes Bakweriness in me more than anything else, just as listening or dancing Makossa or Bikutsi brings the feeling of being Cameroonian. Frederic Chopin’s piano classics have become a therapy for my nostalgia. It goes as far as when I take a meditative look at a piece of painting by Michelangelo, Picasso and others, or when watching one of Shakespeare’s epics in motion. Of all these expressions that one comes across in the veins of time, an admirer would be lost in idle and even dangerous speculation which doesn’t do the artist any good, if he/she fails to appreciate the spiritual attributes that impregnated the artist to give birth to his piece – be it artefact, sculpture, painting or writing. In such a case the ignorance of a critic could easily assassinate the genius of the artist, you will agree with me. What does a cross on a canvas mean to an artist with a Christian background? Is it possible to wholly comprehend the multiple arms of Lord Krishna in a temple or on a sculpture without knowledge of Hinduism? What about the Mandala of Tibetan monks and the various symbols of Zen, etc.? On top of it all, what lies beneath the zeal to carve out an Ekwanga Tita mask from, say, a mahogany tree. Even the choice of the tree has a significance for those initiated in the Njoku (Elephant) Cult, particularly because particular spirit entities are believed to favour particular trees.
African art is greatly misunderstood and often falsely interpreted. From a layman's perspective a piece of African carving or mask is often seen as an _expression of artistic vision in a particular shape and largely judged on the merits of aesthetics; a totally relative and elusive concept, which depends on the geographical, political, historical and chronological attributes of the perceiver. Yet in the African belief-system a mask for instance, is designed and made with a preconceived purpose; frequently nowadays with the intention of selling it to a curious tourist. But then if one digs deep enough he will realize that real traditional craftsmanship is inspired by ritualistic instincts. A mask for instance, serves as a meeting point for the visible and invisible realms. This theme is explored in a book of mine Day of the dead and shall further be explored in a play I am currently working on, titled Seeds that become rocks, atoms that become bombs.
To better understand art, one must understand the lores and laws that govern the Universe, which cannot be ignored with impunity. What do I mean by this? Let's take the example of the African parapsychologist Patrick Nguema Ndong and his theory on the collapse of the Egyptian Civilisation for instance; Ngeuma Ndong is of the opinion that what led to the collapse of the Egyptian civilization was a colossal spiritual rebellion unleashed by a set of enslaved spirits of deceased Pharaohs that had been mummified and held back spiritually to serve the Egyptian state of that epoch. Well, we are each entitled to judge this from our view points.
A second example to cite here is the about coming to terms with the masks of the Dogon clan of Mali. Certain theories hold that the Dogons are of Egyptian descend. The Dogon are famous for their astronomical knowledge taught through oral tradition, dating back thousands of years, referencing to the star system, Sirius, which is linked with the Egyptian goddess Isis and also known as a dog star. The astronomical information known by the Dogon since that time, was not discovered and verified until the 19th and 20th centuries. Their oral traditions say it was given to them by the Nommo. As the story goes ... in the late 1930s, four Dogon priests shared their most important secret tradition with two French anthropologists, Marcel Griaule and Germain Dieterlen after they had spent an apprenticeship of fifteen years living with the tribe. These were secret myths about the star Sirius, which is 8.6 light years from the Earth. The Dogon priests said that Sirius had a companion star that was invisible to the human eye. They also stated that the star moved in a 50-year elliptical orbit around Sirius, that it was small and incredibly heavy, and that it rotated on its axis. Initially the anthropologists wrote it off as unimportant. Later it was dicovered that since 1844, astronomers had suspected that Sirius A had a companion star. In 1862 Alvan Clark discovered the second star making Sirius a binary star system (two stars). In the 1920's it was determined that Sirius B, the companion of Sirius, was a white dwarf star. Dogons describe Nommo (the god that handed them the knowledge) as having the upper part as a man and the lower portion as snake; or as having a ram's head with serpent body. Nommo supposedly came from the Sirius star system. There is a Dogon drawing of the spaceship that brought Nommo. They call the Nommo 'Masters of the Water', 'The Monitors', 'The Teachers or Instructors', 'Saviors', and 'Spiritual Guardians'.
All this brings us to the ultimate question about the current state of Africa; why?, why? Why?... why the wars, conquest, diseases? Why the massive dispare and aparent lose of direction? The answer could be summed in two word – 'cultural disintegration'. 'The gods are angry', as the African writer and political scientist prof. Ali Mazrui will put it. The gods are angry because they have been betrayed and abandoned by their people. And the solution can never come from outside because it is an African problem. The solution can't be Christianity or Islam or any other religion. This is not to say they are not correct. No. I for one I am a Catholic beside being a follower of the African belief-system. Africans must purge their past through acceptance of what they are. Fleeing the past as a result of guilt imposed externally isn't the solution at all. This is mere escapism and escapism is never a solution. It is like firing a single bullet on a lion's tail and escaping to a nearby bush for cover. The lion will most certainly come after you. A Bakweri proverb says 'o'wo-te evwanya oma o'wo-vwe yututu'; 'if you pick a burning piece of wood, know that you will take along the accompanying smoke as well'.
My dad told once said to me that 'dream' is proof of immortality. So be it. Why should I doubt him? He is strong, and it requires strength to support knowlegde. Didn't Voltaire say that 'Knowledge is a thing of great weight'?
Last June I asked the outstanding American psychiatrist Thomas Sasz whether he agreed with the view that ‘a man’s identity is his profession’. Szasz proofed this point correct by responding with a question in return; ‘What identity do you mean?’ As a psychiatrist and by so doing he was attributing credit to the fact that a man’s identity is his trade. If artists are therefore ranked within the parameters evoked here, it will turn out that real Art Ambassadors shall be separated from those who borrow inspiration from Art Ambassadors, considering that an artist is first of all an art ambassador. Or better still, a genuine Art Ambassador enters into communion with the very soul of nature, while the second category of artists (humble in nature) borrows inspiration from the Art Ambassador. There is a third category of artists made up of mean and unscrupulous fellows… they steal from the Ambassadors. Isn’t it funny to even start dreaming of stealing someone else’s concentrated thought-form? Yet there are those who are crazy enough to do it. The Art Ambassador would simply laugh at such. Giambologna’s humility and vision clearly mirrors the psyche of an Art Ambassador. Is it possible to rob someone as pure as that and get away with it, even if his only weakness and therefore weapon is his art?
With this array of complex personalities; spiritual, cultural, social, historical and geographical, creamed with experience, I am compelled to hold the view that the most realistic way to approach and experience the presence of the Omnipotent Mind is through Arts. It might not necessary be the same for others. However, the subject is debatable.
II
I wasn’t competing with the awesome yet deadly waves of the Mediterranean Sea to get to the shores of Sicily dead or alive. I was coming to Milan as an Art Ambassador upon invitation. As a result, I believe that I was sanctioned as an Art Ambassador proper at the Milan airport upon my arrival. This is to say in an intriguing way my destiny seems to be curiously knotted together airports, considering that sometime in the past I was arrested at the airport in Cameroon and later in Ghana. Since we are all art ambassadors here, I am sure it would be better to say what I have to say with the help of the old artistic tradition of storytelling. I had wanted to read fragments from my latest play, RACE OF STAMPS. But after the experience I had on my way here, I am sure you will be in a better position to understand RACE OF STAMPS ( a politically correct play) after listening to this story.
Last June along with some colleagues working for Association of Exiles in Poland, we had a meeting with the director general in charge of Aliens Affairs with the Polish Ministry of Internal Affairs. Before the meeting ended I got a document from him upon request. The document had to do with a treaty signed by Poland with several other EU members states, abolishing visas for holders of the 1951 Geneva Convention Travel Document as from June 2005. Italy was listed among the states. An article was published in the November issue of our magazine Voice of Exile, about the said treaty. I had been to Italy thrice previously and got a visa each time. Believing to be fully armed with knowledge about the recent treaty, I boarded the flight to Milan with ease by simply showing my Travel Document at the various checkpoints at the Warsaw Okecie airport.
Getting to Milan, the immigration officer who checked me started by saying ‘this is a strange passport Mister. I haven’t seen it before, beside there is no visa in it… I must show it to my boss.’
‘Sir,’ I said, ‘I don’t need a visa with this passport anymore.’
‘But I can see here that you had a visa before… come with me. I must consult my boss.’
And so the Polizia took me to his boss. I was asked to stay in a room. After 45 minutes the boss called me into his office.
‘Yes Mister… I have checked and you need a visa to Italy.’
‘No sir… the law changed last June….. Poland signed a treaty with Italy.’ I replied.
‘What law are you talking about? I know the law; do you want to teach me the law here? You will have to stay the night here at the police station. Tomorrow morning we shall contact the Ministry of Interior to find out is you need a visa or not. If you do then we shall send you back to Poland.’ He said.
‘Well in that case sir, rather than spend the night here I would rather go back tonight if there’s a flight to Warsaw. I know I don’t need a visa to Italy and I can prove this!’ I said.
‘So prove it…’ The officer fired back.
‘Ok sir… if I can get my luggage I shall proof this.’
So the ‘boss’ sent for another police officer who escorted me to fetch my luggage. I was already feeling claustrophobic in there. After a further 20minute I found my luggage. We returned to the office and I took from my bag a copy of the Voice of Exile Magazine with the article about the visa-free treaty. The officer took it from me and asked me to wait in an adjacent cell. After a further 15 minute-wait he called me in.
‘I have checked mister and made some calls but it can’t be confirmed that you don’t need a visa to Italy.’ He said. I noticed that his voice had changed to a more polite and almost apologetic note. At this all my frustration left me. I felt warmth inside. Perhaps he got affected by this.
‘Ok.. I shall try to check again… this is your photo I can see,’ he said, pointing at my photo on the editorial page.
‘Yes sir,’ I said.
‘I don’t know what to do now… I shall try to contact my boss. You see I am trying to help somehow. I am thinking about giving you a visa here if you can pay for it, but I have to consult my boss.’ He dialled the phone and spent some further 10min on it. ‘Holding the receiver with one hand he asked me, ‘What conference are you attending here?’
‘Art Ambassador,’ I replied.
‘Where?’
‘At the Hotel Villa San Carlo Borromeo in Milan.’
‘Where in Milan,’ he asked.
‘Segano.’
Then I had a call from the secretary of the conference, instructing me to get a taxi as the hotel car had waited too long left.
He finally replaced the phone.
‘Ok, do you have 35euros?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir,’ I replied and fetched in my pockets. Strangely enough at the Warsaw airport I changed the money I had into euro and it amounted to 37euro. I regrettably shelled out 35euro and handed it to him, leaving with 2 euros in my pocket.
He stuck a visa in the Travel Document, stamped it and handed it to me with a big smile. I smiled back at him.
‘How will you get to Segano now?’ he asked.
‘Well, are there buses to Milan from here?’ I asked.
‘Well, get a taxi mister… the conference organiser shall pay for it so don’t worry,’ he generously advised, ‘have a nice stay,’ and he opened the door to let me out. We had almost become pals by the time we parted.
That’s the story. Let me however stress that the Polish and Italian ministries of Internal Affairs owe me each 17.50euro, which add up to 35 euros. This, in a way, could be described as ‘diplomatic extortion’. As soon as I return to Warsaw I shall file a complaint with the European Human Rights Court in Strasbourg, because I cannot be made a victim because of someone who failed to inform the Immigration authorities that I do not require a visa to enter Italy. Who knows, we might win a huge compensation from the authorities and use part of it to carry on the work of promoting Art Ambassadors.
Jokes aside, you will agree with me that by reading that magazine and allowing me to enter Italy as a result, the immigration officer was partly influenced by what he came across in it. This practically proves Prof. Vergilione’s remarks yesterday that, 1. a piece of art is also making a journey, 2. an artist never stops being a part of the journey of his work and 3. an art object or book, is a museum in its own right. The last example perfectly fits this situation as it could be said that the immigration officer entered the museum represented by the magazine I handed him. What he realised inside in the form of the written word, provoked feelings of empathy towards the author who was standing in front of him. Mark you; the officer had the power to send me back to Poland without even paying attention to my explanations.
Finally I shall declare that the experience at the airport has inspired me to write a play.. In fact I have already written it in my head from start to finish; the title shall be Art Ambassador… I think it fits with a subtitle, ‘Italian Reception’. It shall be a comic and I see you playing a role in it, in a beautiful artistic garden. It shall try to narrate the story of crossing multiple barriers at the airport before being allowed to enter into the abstract soul of Italy, which is totally artistic. What’s could be more; if it is well written and properly marketed that would be employing art as a tool to turn tragedy into opportunity.
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