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Identity and Style in Ghanaian Artistic Discourse
By
Maruska Svašek
Reprinted with permission from Jeremy MacClancy (ed.) Contesting Art. Art, Politics, and
Identity in the Modern World, Berg Publishers, Oxford, 1997, pp. 27--62
Whether people perceive and classify specific objects as art depends not only on their
knowledge and understanding of art history, but also on their expectations of the artistic output
of their producers. In 1978 Nelson Graburn asked a group of American anthropology students to
give their opinions about a series of objects made by Eskimos and Cree Indians. The students
used Western cultural categories, such as the opposition between art and craft, and projected
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their romantic views of `primitive people', to classify the objects (Graburn 1978). Graburn's
study clearly shows that objects, as dynamic signifiers, can be incorporated into discourses
which demarcate, define and reinforce specific social identities. In their interpretation of the
objects displayed as museum pieces, the students used images of primitives-being-close-tonature, primitives-having-lost-their-authenticity, and students-being-objective-observers.
Daniel Miller argues that `objects may not merely be used to refer to a given social group, but
may themselves be constitutive of a certain social relation', calling this phenomenon `the
cultural nature of the subject-object relationship' (Miller 1987: 121--2). Graburn's findings and
Miller's argument suggest that art objects cannot simply be regarded as reflections of fixed
identities. In Karin Barber's words, `[art forms] are in themselves important means through
which consciousness is articulated and communicated (Barber 1986: 8). It is important to note
that not only art producers can claim certain identities and constitute social relations through
their products, but that members of the public (ranging from interested outsiders to specialized
art historians or collectors) can use the same objects to their own ends. Art works can be
perceived and interpreted in many different ways.
Numerous authors have pointed out that the interpretation and presentation of African, Asian,
South-American and minority group art in the West has created and reinforced an image of
second-rate, exotic peoples (Graburn 1978; Stocking 1985; Clifford 1988; Price 1989; Karp and
Lavine 1990; Coutts-Smith 1991; hooks 1992; Jordon and Weedon 1995). They have shown
that terms which relate art to images of identity (such as `primitive' and `non-Western') have
been used as oppressive symbolic tools in colonial, neo-colonial and racist discourses and
practices. As far as I know, fewer studies have analysed how African, Asian, South American
and minority group artists have used the concepts style and identity themselves (Mount 1973;
Spanjaard 1988, 1993; Svašek 1990; Morphy 1995). In my view, this is a field of research
which will rapidly grow in the next decades, revealing how political, economic, and artistic
processes are linked in specific cases.
In this article, I focus on the ways in which Ghanaian artists have defined and given form to
their artistic identity in the context of colonialism, decolonization, and post-colonialism. I argue
that they have done this partly in a reaction to the expectations of colonial employees, panAfrican ideologists, Ghanaian nationalists, various consumer groups, and organizers of
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international art exhibitions. I also show how they have used strategically existing stereotypes of
Ghanaian identity and style in an attempt to cope with the harsh conditions on both local and
global art markets.
The material on which this article is based was collected in Ghana between August 1989 and
March 1990. At the time, the focus of my research was directed at artists formally trained at the
School of Fine Arts at the University of Science and Technology in Kumasi, as well as at 'way2
side artists' informally trained to produce paintings, statues and signboards for local and tourist
markets. Fieldwork was mainly conducted in Accra and Kumasi. Whenever I was in Accra, I
stayed at the house of Amon Kotei, one of Ghana's most prominent older artists, who designed
Ghana's coat of arms. Kotei, a very active painter of 72 with a good sense of humour, shared
with me many memories concerning the development of the Ghanaian art world. He introduced
me to numerous artists and collectors in Accra. In Kumasi, I stayed for a period of three months
at the University of Science and Technology and daily visited the School of Fine Arts. I
conducted interviews and had informal talks with art students and members of the teaching
staff. Most of the time spent on the university grounds, I devoted to two classes of painting- and
sculpture students who were preparing themselves for their final exams. Outside the Academy, I
also visited the shops and studios of the wayside-artists, and asked them questions about their
training, careers, and aesthetic preferences.
In this article, I mainly concentrate on what Susan Vogel calls `international African art' (Vogel
1991: 176). By this, she means the art objects produced by academically trained or self-made
intellectual Africans, distributed through galleries of contemporary African art and African
cultural centres, and consumed by local elites, expatriates and a (growing) number of Western
collectors.
Genuine artists, natural identities, and non-commercial styles
In the history of Ghanaian art production (here limited to the history of `international Ghanaian
art') various individuals and social groups have utilized the notion of style in order to present
their art as an expression of their `natural' identity. The interpretation of artistic style as `natural'
is based on the assumption that in art, genuine and counterfeit developments can be
distinguished and that stylistic features of past and present art works can be related in either
proper or improper ways. By choosing certain formal elements and representing them as the
ones that objectively form diachronic chains, the illusion is created of natural continuity and
consistency (style) as though there were a stylistic machine which works autonomously and
independently of human intervention. Boundaries are drawn between `natural authentic' styles
and `artificial counterfeit' non-styles. To discover and describe to which category a certain
object belongs is the work of specialists who possess the `right' knowledge necessary to `read'
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and decipher it (Preziosi 1989).
Most producers, consumers and critics of Ghanaian international art have defined genuine art as
a conscious, subconscious, or half conscious expression of the artist's self, undisturbed by
financial considerations. In their discourse, notions of artistic style are directly related to the
assumption that genuine art is non-commercial, and that non-commercial styles are expressions
of `natural identities'. Identity is understood as an indication of timeless ontological qualities of
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either individuals or social groups. In the first instance, the artist's identity is perceived as a
particular combination of personal inborn characteristics, in which case the artistic style
represents the artist as an individual being (the image of the independent creator). In the second
instance, the artist is classified as member of a particular social group, in which case the artistic
style symbolizes a shared group identity (the image of the primitive, African, Ghanaian, or
universal artist).
In their determination of specific identities, artists and their public select certain elements of
past and present artistic and non-artistic behaviour and label them as characteristic. Deviant
behaviour is called artificial or commercial, and if one acts in a deviant manner one may be
accused of loss of identity, and loss of artistic integrity. Artistic style is represented as evidence
of identity, and identity as evidence of artistic style. Thus, both terms serve as normative tools,
used to structure and control both artistic and non-artistic behaviour of individuals and members
of specific social groups.
In my opinion, the representation of identity and style as timeless natural categories is an act of
ideological decontextualization and a denial of the way in which these categories are used as
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instruments to struggle for political power and economic gain. The relationship between artistic
styles, identity formation and power issues can only be analysed if the art works are placed in
the political and econmic contexts in which they are produced, distributed and consumed. I
agree with Bogumil Jewsiewicki who states that `we must transfer the focus of our analysis
from the unique work of art to the relationship between the artist and society, particularly noting
the sociopolitical dynamics of power' (Jewsiewicki 1991: 135. See also Bourdieu 1968, 1979;
Szombati-Fabian and Fabian 1976; Fabian 1979). The following paragraphs will show how
(verbal and visual) discourses of style and identity have reinforced politically relevant processes
of social differentiation and integration in Ghana.
The image of primitive man: fetish objects and primitive art
When, in 1887, the British colonial government of the Gold Coast drew up the `Education Code'
in which they laid down rules for the educational system in the colony, they introduced a new
subject: `Hand and Eye training'. This involved the technical and naturalistic drawing of simple
objects. Art lessons based on indigenous art forms were not to be given, because the inhabitants
of the Gold Coast were thought to be non-rational primitives lacking the qualities to produce art.
In 1930, G.A. Stevens, who taught at the art department of Achimota College, criticized the
Education Code, saying: `The Code was drawn up as if there were no indigenous arts in the
country at all, whereas these were in a much more flourishing condition than they are today'
(Stevens 1930: 150). Indigenous products made of wood, metal or textiles were labelled as
`fetish objects' or `functional crafts'. Images of African culture were constructed as mirror
images of European culture, the former being primitive, non-rational and inferior, and the latter
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developed, rational and superior.
By the end of the 1920s, the formerly-named fetish objects were reinterpreted as `primitive art',
due to changing art conceptions in Europe. Because artists such as Picasso became inspired by
the forms of particular African masks they bought and saw in Paris, and created a new
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primitivist style, the objects of their inspiration were incorporated into the domain of `art'.
Although Africans were now thought to be able to create art, the adjective `primitive' still
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classified them as inferior to the whites. If these artists were primitive, how could they make
anything other than primitive art, since art was thought to be an expression of the artist's self?
The objects they found were stylistically contrasted to European realism, and indigenous works
of art which could be categorized as `realist' were either ignored or explained as being the result
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of foreign influences.
The image that colonial art teachers had of their students' culture limited the artistic freedom of
the students of Achimota College, which, established in 1920, was the first secondary school
with a specialized art department in the Gold Coast Colony. The art department later developed
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into an Academy of Arts and in 1951 was moved to Kumasi. At the time when Achimota
School was established, the African inhabitants of the Gold Coast were identified as still having
a special human quality that had been lost to modern Europeans. They were expected to keep on
working in the style of their ancestors, perceived as an unchanging tradition. That was all the
more important, because Africans were thought to be fast losing this quality. The colonial
British presented themselves as heroes saving the true identity of the primitives. Stevens wrote
in 1930 in a mood of paternalistic concern:
The present is a formative period, and an African style, which is completely in
harmony with their racial genius and which is in the true line of descent from their
primitive past, has hardly had time to emerge (Stevens 1930: 157).
The students of the art department of Achimota College were more or less forced to create art in
the style of their ancestors. In 1931, a so-called `traditional' sculptor was appointed as teacher
(Pippet 1935: 20). From 1937 to 1945, Osei Bonsu, the master carver of the Asantehene, chief
of the Ashantis, was appointed as well (Mount 1973: 15). The students were taught to make
Akuaba fertility figures, stools and state swords, the latter originally made of metal, but done by
the students in wood. Akuaba statues were traditionally used by women who could not bear
children in order to become fertile. In the interpretation of the Europeans, the non-realistic
features of the statues and their functionality in `unscientific' and `pagan' practices made them
expressions of a primitive mind. The British, paradoxically, attempted on the one hand to
`civilize the primitives' by introducing them to a Britisch type of school system and converting
them to Christianity, while, on the other hand, they intended to `save primitive culture' by
forcing them to produce primitive art.
The students of Achimota College were often city boys who were confronted with
contemporary city life. Being more interested in making models of aeroplanes, they had
problems in understanding why they should only produce images related to their cultural past
(Svašek 1989a). Amon Kotei recalled how, when he was a student at Achimota College in
1938, he made realistic portraits in clay. One day when he had finished one of them, he showed
it to Meyerowitz, the head of the department, who screamed: `Horrible, horrible, this is not
African art, this is European art!'
The words of Stevens and the reaction of Meyerowitz can serve as a demonstration of how
identity construction and the enforcement of style were related in practice. Because of the
colonization by the British and the influence of the missionaries, the chiefs had lost power and
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many people had turned to Christianity. Therefore, the demand for objects that functioned as
symbols of indigenous political and religious power had lessened (De Graft-Johnson 1964:
106). Nevertheless, the colonial art teachers wanted the students to produce them. Although
many students were not really interested, most of them obeyed because they were in a position
of having no power. The illusion of natural primitive style, as an expression of an inferior mind
unspoiled by negative effects of development, could be maintained by the colonial teachers. It
served as a powerful ideological construction which reinforced the image of backward Africa,
only to be modernized by the help of the superior whites.
The language of the rulers: claiming a symbolic code
After the end of the Second World War, some artists, such as Amon Kotei, Kofi Antubam and
Saka Acquaye started to fight the myth of static primitive tradition (Svašek 1990b). They
claimed `European' realism (broadly defined and incorporating diverse styles, such as
naturalism, impressionism and expressionism) as an artistic style of their own, thus symbolically
denying boundaries between themselves and their colonizers. In 1989, Amon Kotei showed me
a photograph of himself in his early years, standing in front of one of his realistic portraits in
clay. He used the picture to prove to me his ability to work in a naturalistic style, and thus to
challenge the idea that whites are superior to blacks. He also gave me a paper he had written in
1977, which stated:
The prejudice was that the Ghanaian is not fit, capable, or that it is not African art to do
anything that is realistic. Let us change this prejudice, and prove that the colour of our
skin has nothing to do with acquisition of knowledge which is power, and the exercise
of intelligence which is the only possession God gave to human beings to use (Kotei
1977).
It was an act of emancipation through artistic style, a refusal to submit to the neat hierarchic
cultural scheme of the paternalistic white colonizers. But although artists such as Kotei broke
the myth of white stylistic superiority, they insisted on the distinction between black and white
cultural identities. The colonial distinction between modern Europe and traditional Africa was
maintained, but redefined. Tradition was reinterpreted as a distinct cultural and historical
process. African cultural tradition no longer meant `primitive', but was reinterpreted as being
something of which to be proud.
Kofi Antubam used the notion of evolutionary development in his perception of African art. In
1954, he described three stages of universal artistic development (archaic abstraction, classical
naturalism, nationalistic romanticism), and argued that the intellectual artists in the Gold Coast
had reached the third stage, characterized by
the particular people's full realization of themselves as a nation and the growth of their
national pride. It is the time of dynamic movement and realism in art. Artists seek in all
earnestness and expand their means and method of expression by knowledge acquired
from other lands (Antubam 1954: 3, cited by Mount 1973: 225).
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The emancipation of African artists was linked to the rise of nationalist and Pan-African
movements in the late 1940s and 1950s. Serving as soldiers in the British army during the
Second World War, and getting to know them at close quarters, Africans had come to realize
that the idea of white superiority was a myth. They were also influenced by war propaganda of
the Allied Forces in which democracy, individual human rights and the right of selfdetermination were propagated. After the war, more and more Africans questioned why they
had fought for ideals which were not applied in their own situation. They no longer accepted
white domination, and demanded independence (Davidson 1978: 202; Buah 1980: 149). In this
context, the conscious turn of artists against the wishes of their white teachers was politically
highly significant. They no longer wanted to `stay primitive under force', and chose to work in
styles the Europeans defined as civilized. They did not intend to adopt a European-like artistic
identity, but wanted to use these styles to strengthen the notion of their own African identity, a
construction that had revolutionary value for the creation of national and black consciousness.
The art works thus functioned as instruments in the struggle for independence, which was
embodied in the person of Kwame Nkrumah.
Nkrumah, who had already played an important part in the nationalist and pan-Africanist
movement in the United States (where he had lived for a period of ten years), and the United
Kingdom (where he had studied and taught at several universities for two years) returned to the
Gold Coast in November 1947. He accepted the post of General Secretary in the United Gold
Coast Convention (UGCC), the first political party, established in 1947, by black inhabitants of
the Gold Coast. He became one of the spokesmen of the nationalist struggle for selfdetermination, and his politicized version of the Biblical text, `Seek ye first the political
kingdom and all other things will be added to you,' became a slogan in the struggle for
independence (Buah 1980: 150--53). However, Nkrumah's ideas were too extreme for the more
conservative UGCC members of the UGCC, and in 1949 he established his own party, the
Convention's People's Party (CPP). The CCP, using The Accra Evening News and the Cape
Coast Daily Mail as public media, actively propagated national and Pan-African consciousness.
When the Gold Coast finally became independent and was renamed Ghana, Nkrumah was
appointed as its first president (ibid.: 156).
The Africans who had consiously turned to figuration painted images of a distinct life-style,
which they thought to be typical of Africans in general, and Ghanaians in particular. In their
representations of African life, all aspects of contemporary society which they regarded as being
modern and European were excluded and rejected as signs of the cultural domination of the
British. They made images of durbars, chiefs, villages, musicians and dancers, fishermen,
women carrying pots, and other `typical African' scenes.
Figurative art works showing African tradition are produced to this day. They depict aspects of
contemporary life that evoke memories of the past. Any sign that can be interpreted as `modern'
is deliberately left out. For example, in 1988 Amon Kotei made an oil painting with the title
`Market Women'. He depicted the women in what he called traditional African dresses,
including colourful cloths and scarves. The market women in the painting sell fish, something
Ghanaian women have done for time immemorial. However, Kotei gives an idealistic view of
present-day Ghanaian culture as being solely rooted in past traditions. Although scenes as
depicted in `Market women' can be found in contemporary Ghana, Kotei's experience of
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present-day culture is more varied. His daughters, who often model for him, do not (always)
wear scarves, and the youngest girl sometimes puts on trousers. One works as hairdresser and
another as a seamstress, so Kotei is confronted with the latest hair and clothing fashions. His
choice to depict `tradition' is a conscious one.
The same applies to Ebeneezer Donkor, who graduated at the School of Fine Arts in 1990. In
1989 he made a watercolour painting with the title `Village'. The work was based on sketches he
made in his home village. When I accompanied him there, I did see quiet rural scenes like the
one depicted. However, I also saw the bus that took me there, as well as cars, radios, beer
bottles, and other signs of modernity. Just like Kotei, Donkor deliberately left out aspects of
contemporary life which he perceived as non-traditional.
DONKOR PICTURE HERE
Dynamic abstraction: a Pan-African medium of expression
In the late 1940s, some artists started to resist the cultural and political domination of the British
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not by claiming their styles of expression, but by strongly rejecting them as something alien.
Instead, they reinterpreted the abstract style of their ancestors as `dynamic' and `African', and
argued that abstraction was an expression of genuine African identity which had to be further
developed in the present.
Ironically enough, a number of Gold Coast artists discovered the value of old African art during
their stay in Europe. The sculptor Oku Ampofo for example, who lived in Edinburgh from 1932
to 1940 in order to study medicine, was confronted with pieces of African sculpture when he
visited British museums. He described them as having an emotional effect which Western
education had not given him:
'I found in these ancient masterpieces the emotional appeal and satisfaction which
Western education had failed to cultivate in me. It was as though an African had to go
all the way to Europe to discover himself' (quoted in Mount 1973: 173).
Back in the Gold Coast, he decided to develop further the art made by his African ancestors,
thus struggling against the cultural dominance of Europe. When I visited him in 1990, Ampofo
told me how certain `innate' qualities of African artists were spoiled by the influence of
European artistic styles:
The amazing thing was that even. . .those who were colourful and those who were
symbolic in their painting and sculpture, when they got a scholarship from the British
government. . .and went abroad, by the time they came back they were all spoiled.
Ampofo fought against people who rejected the art of the past as having no more significance to
present day Africa.
And what about the future? Many there are who think that any attempt to revive
African traditional art or even learn from it will be like flogging a dead horse. I hold
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the opposite view. . .the rest of the century may well see a definite renaissance. The
aesthetic appeal of African art cannot be limited to any particular epoch (Ampofo
1968: 25).
Contrary to artists such as Kotei, who disassociated realistic style and European identity,
Ampofo and others emphatically defined realism as a European style of expression, foreign to
African culture. Just like realists who depicted traditional life, they were influenced by
Nkrumah's `African personality philosophy', which was based on the image of Pan-African
identity. In Ampofo's words:
Nkrumah was behind me. My work meant a step in the direction of a further
development of a typical African identity.
The stylistic features of the non-realistic art works were diverse, but mostly described as
abstract and angular. As media of expression, various materials and techniques were chosen,
such as ebony and other kinds of wood, plaster of Paris, and oil and acrylic paints. `Past'
concepts of beauty and wisdom, such as long, ringed necks and big round heads (which were
also part of the Akuaba fertility figures) were used. The abstract `neo-traditional' genre is still
produced by a great number of contemporary artists.
In 1965, Ampofo made the ebony statue `Primordial Instinct'. The importance of fertility and
the love of a mother for a child is often mentioned by Africans as a characteristic of African
culture. Through the choice of material (ebony has been used a great deal in various parts of
Africa), the selection of the theme, and his personal semi-abstract style, the sculptor aimed to
create an image of a dynamic pan-African artistic style, expressing pan-African values.
The painter Kobina Buckner intended to transpose the qualities of African sculpture to the twodimensional survace of the canvas in a style he called the `Sculptural Idiom'. In one of his
acrylic paintings of women, which was made in the 1970s, he drew on the stylistic features of
the Akuaba figure. The women in the picture eat food out of bowls and wear traditional clothes.
It is clear that Buckner did not regard the fact that many `traditional' wax prints are made in
Holland as relevant.
BUCKNER PICTURE HERE
Summarizing, one can say that the construction of African identity through the production of
both realistic and abstract styles had an anti-white political connotation, especially in the late
1940s and the 1950s. It served as an ideological tool in the struggle for emancipation and the
fight for independence.
The experience of the city: the depiction of modern life
After independence, which was attained in 1957, most artists were inspired by the philosophy of
African personality, propagated by their first president, Nkrumah. They tried to give form to
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their cultural past, either in an abstract, realistic or semi-realistic style. Although the intended
message was to show Ghana as a dynamic culture rooted in the past, the majority of buyers, who
were non-African foreigners, persisted in interpreting the works as signs of an exotic and
petrified tradition, contrasting with the dynamism of Western modern life. Even though artists
tried to maintain that they propagated political ideals, their political message was `lost' on its
way to the consumers. The rising demand was thus not a political, but a commercial success.
In 1981, the art student Wisdom Kudowar argued that commercial success was in fact an
important reason for artists to create images of the past. `The artists', he wrote, `wanted to reflect
[their] cultural heritage', because `first of all, foreigners' demand for paintings and other artifacts
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with African imagery was very high' (Kudowar 1981: 19). The relationship between the artists
and the largest sector of their public showed itself not to be educational and political, but mainly
economic. The demand of the consumers, and not their willingness to become political
conscious guaranteed the production of the images.
Bennetta Jules-Rosette pointed out that the relationship between art producers and consumers is
often indirect. People who sell the work have an important mediating function. As `middlemen,'
they offer an interpretation of the work to the customer, partly based on the ideas of the artist,
but also grounded on the expectations of the buyer. The buyers' expectations as perceived by the
middlemen will influence the interpretation the middlemen will offer. If buyers like certain
works better than others, the middlemen (who are commercial entrepeneurs) will communicate
this to the artists.
The artists create images that are received and purchased by their audiences. Through
this process, the artists present their perceptions of themselves and their works. These
products are transmitted to the consumers via middlemen whose intervention interprets
and "sells" the work of art. In turn, middlemen transmit the consumer response back to
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the artist (Jules-Rosette 1984: 16, 17).
This explains how consumers' demand can indirectly influence (but not necessarily fully
determine) the production of artists, while the latter are able to uphold the illusion of being
`non-commercial.' The demands of the tourist market, in itself a manifestation of the economic
and political power of the West, thus partly determines the way in which Ghanaian artists
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represent themselves through art.
According to the painter Ato Delaquis, who was teaching at the Kumasi School of Fine Arts at
the time of my fieldwork, the financial dependence of the artists on foreign buyers is not the
only reason why artists keep on creating images of the past. According to him, both the artists
and the Ghanaian public cling to a romanticized vision of the past out of confusion.
The present-day African is confronted with an awkward and embarrassing problem in
trying to know his place in the twentieth century world. . .it is a psychological question
of an emptiness in our lives (Delaquis 1976: 17).
Both Delaquis and Ablade Glover (a prominent painter who was director at the School of Fine
Arts in Kumasi at the time of my fieldwork) studied painting at the School of Fine Arts in the
late 1960s. They consciously broke the myth of the romantic African past by starting to paint
scenes out of present day city life in the beginning of the 1970s (Svašek 1991c). On the one
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hand, they noted that the `past scenes' were often interpreted as signs of backwardness. On the
other hand, they reacted against the idea that Modernity would make Africa less African. The
scenes they painted had previously been excluded by artists who depicted African culture.
Delaquis and Glover constructed a stereotype of modern Ghana opposed to African traditional
culture. For images, they chose big city markets, beer bars, street scenes, and car parks. All these
were represented as signs of modern Ghanaian identity, understood as the result of a historical
interweaving of African and European cultures. In 1968 Delaquis made a drawing called
`Bamboo Disco' which shows women wearing trousers and mini-skirts, and men in fancy soul
trousers, dancing to Highlife music. Western-made instruments such as the saxophone are being
played, and the singer uses a microphone. The acrylic painting `Trotro Transport Station',
painted by Delaquis in 1989, shows another modern scene. Compared to picture one, it gives a
totally different image of Ghanaian life. Delaquis' crowded trotro station makes one think of
people travelling and goods being transported, whereas Donkor's village scene gives an
impression of a quiet life and a peaceful atmosphere. Delaquis aimed to break the stereotyped
image of backward village culture and replace it for one of modern, `global' city life.
DELAQUIS PICTURE HERE
How contemporary Ghanaian city life is depicted is partly dependent on the art public's
idealized image of modern Ghana. In 1969 Delaquis made drawings of hemp smokers, but these
drawings were not accepted by the Ghanaian public. Nobody wanted the pictures because they
showed a negative side of contemporary Ghana. Consequently, Delaquis no longer exhibited
this type of drawings. The student Osei Isaac Agyekumhene, who frequently painted the big
Kejetia market in Kumasi, told me in 1989 that in his close-up representations of the Kejetia
market he consciously avoided painting the muddiness of the market grounds. People would not
enjoy a painting like that. Drugs and dirt are clearly aspects of contemporary life which do not
fit into the art public's idealized image of modern Ghana. According to them, true modern
Ghanaians do not (publicly) smoke grass or sit in the mud, but dance to Highlife and do
business.
Formal art education and the ideal of artistic freedom
Delaquis' and Agyekumhenes' decisions not to include references to drugs or dirt in their
paintings demonstrates the tension between the ideal of artistic freedom and the reality of the art
market. Formally trained artists, even though they like to believe that their work is free from
commercial contraints, do adapt at times to consumer demands. At the academy, the influence
of commercial forces on art was a taboo topic. Art students were stimulated to develop their
own styles, independently of market forces. Occasionally however, certain art teachers felt
themselves forced to warn their students about the harsh reality of the art market. At the time of
my fieldwork, the art student Adam Agyeman was doing his final year exams at the Kumasi
School of Fine Arts. After I had made pictures of several of his works, all painted in an abstract
geometric style, I asked him why in one of his new works he had depicted a soccer player. He
explained to me that he had followed the advice of his teacher Ato Delaquis, who had told him
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that if he continued to paint in a totally abstract vein, he would risk not selling any of his works
and not being able to live from his production of pictures. When I confronted Delaquis with this
problem, he admitted that even though he tried to stimulate the students to produce original,
innovative non-commercial works, the reality of the art market could not be denied.
Unfortunately, he said, most Ghanaian and foreign buyers were not interested in purely abstract
art, because they did not perceive it as `typical Ghanaian'. From a Ghanaian artist they expected
a different artistic style.
The ideal of artistic freedom was reinforced whenever I asked academically trained artists about
the similarities and differences between themselves and the informally trained way-side artists.
They argued that the latter were (skilled) craftsmen producing commercial goods. In contrast
they defined themselves as free individual creators of non-commercial but genuine art.
According to some the difference in quality between themselves and the informally trained
artists was so great that they were offended by the fact that I showed interest in the products of
the latter. Kotei for example once reacted with irritation when I left his house to visit once again
`one of those commercial copy-artists who just repeat themselves'. He argued that I was just
wasting my time, because all wayside artists worked in a similar way, producing the same
statues and paintings over and over again.
Formal education at the Kumasi School of Fine Arts (the only art school in Ghana where
students receive an academic title) differs in many respects from the informal training given in
the workshops of the way-side artists. The latter are headed by master carvers, painters and
13
designers, who teach the profession to a varying number of assistants. Under the guidance of
the master artist, they produce works commissioned by customers or middlemen, who sell the
works in local shops or export them to other countries all over the world (see also Jules-Rosette
1984; Steiner 1994). The assistants are boys from poorer families, and get some pocket money
during the time of their training. Sometimes they also sleep in the workshop. After having
completed their training, which generally takes about three years, they work as fully trained
artists and receive a salary. Some leave and start their own workshop. To the informally trained
artists, commercialism is not a taboo, rather a postive sign of success. In their discourse,
commercialism and creativity are no exclusive categories.
In contrast, the students who study at the Kumasi School of Fine Arts (the only school in Ghana
where students can get an academic grade in the fine arts) come from families which are
financially better off than most Ghanaians. However, this does not mean that they have never to
cope with financial problems. At the time of my fieldwork, many art students complained that
they did not have enough money to buy high quality materials. During my stay, which took
place at the end of the academic year, the meeting halls where students could socialize and buy
food and drinks were mostly empty. They had spent their grants, and lack of money forced them
to cook in their rooms or even miss out meals. The students who would soon graduate admitted
that they faced their post-university existence with a mixture of hope and fear. They did not
know whether they would be able to survive as independent artists.
This fear was not ungrounded. The number of Ghanaians, expatriates and tourists who buy art
works made by formally trained artists is rather small. A related problem is the limited number
of places to exhibit and sell the works. At the time of my research, there were only three private
galleries in the whole of Ghana (all in Accra). Foreign cultural institutes, such as the Goethe
12
Institute and the British Council, as well as some international hotels in Accra occasionally
organized exhibitions. Throughout the country there were only a few National Art Centres,
where art was promoted and artists could sell their works. Most visitors to these centres were
foreign tourists, and the competition with low-cost souvenir art was big. In my opinion, this was
also the reason why the formally trained artists were so negative about the creative capacities of
their informally trained colleagues. In some contexts, they tried to sell to the same customer
group, and were clear competitors. On the whole, the working conditions for the art school
graduates were not easy. Today, seven years after I completed the fieldwork, the situation is not
very different.
Artists as free creators, artists as political actors, artists as entrepeneurs
The characterization by formally trained artists of their own work as `untouched by market
influence', was strongly based on two ideal images. In the first image, which can be called
`religious', artists use creative talents which are mysteriously generated by supernatural
inspiration. This idea is reflected in the words of Ablade Glover, who defined creativity as a
`divine need' shared by all human beings.
Creativity is a need that is inside you, that you are born with. If we nurture it, it grows. .
. Creative people can really see things. And as you begin to see things in your minds
eye, you begin to produce them. . . The Bible says that man was created because God
did so. If every man was created in His image, then you must have His qualities. I think
that creative quality is what everybody has, not only the artist. Everybody has creative
quality, which is imbued to us by whoever made us, whom we call God. It is that
quality that we call creativity, because He has creativity. He imparted it to us. Now I
have already said that creativity need not be in painting alone. It can be in cooking, it
can be in music, it can be in writing. It can be anything. The fact that there is a creative
impulse which truly is there which most people have, except some who sit all day and
are bored, and don't know what to do with themselves, whereas someone else uses his
creative powers. I think that creativity must be divine.
In the notion of art as divine creative force, the relation between an art producer and his public
is imagined as a relationship between an inspired visionary and someone `whose eyes are
opened'. In Glover's words:
AG:
I think of [artistic] inspiration as something that stirs up the creative impulses. So
having stirred it up it begins to work. Usually it happens by seeing something, like the
roofs of the town. It excites your imagination. It immediately makes you think `when I
am home I am going to paint them'.
MS:
And do you think that through your painting you can give the viewer the same feeling?
AG:
Exactly. Out of your painting you hope to excite the same imagination you have. Pass
it on.
13
An artist, according to Glover, is someone who uses his creativity to produce unique works of
art. Reproducing works for the sake of better sales puts an object immediately outside the
domain of art. In his words, `an art object is unique. If you reproduce it, it means you copy. Only
the original work, which can be produced, but not reproduced, I define as a work of art.'
Another ideal on which formally trained artists have based their definition of art, is the
conviction that artists are political actors who must consciously choose to propagate a specific
message. Ampofo reflected on the artistic ideas dominant in the late 1940s, 1950s, and early
1960s. He argued:
'Art had a function in the political struggle, because our artistic achievements showed that we
were ready for political independence'. In this political view on art, artistic and political spheres
merge, and art becomes a political weapon. The relationship between the artist and his public is
educational, or one of `making politically conscious'.
In both the religious as well as the political view on art, acknowledging the possible influence
of the market on the images artists produce is taboo. The fact that artists produce commodities,
and that as such, are embedded in the market economy, is not seen as relevant to the way in
which they define themselves. Unlike the informally trained artists, who measure their success
by their ability to please their customers, and increase their sales, formally trained artists
strongly disapprove of commercialism. This is reflected and sustained by the fact that whenever
Ghanaian intellectual artists talk about their own art in public, they try to avoid the topic of
market dependence, or argue that even if other artists may conform to customer demands, they
do not. This does not mean that academic artists are not confronted with the reality of the art
market. The preferences and expectations of art buyers are an essential part of the material
conditions under which Ghanaian artists work. Ironically, by making talk of their economic
dependency taboo, artists meet the expectations of their buyers, with whom they share the myth
of non-commercial artistic authenticity. Another point of irony is that at the tourist market, the
informally trained artists also present their works as as `genuine art' in a reaction to the
expectations of their customers (Svasek 1991a, 1990a).
The artist as individual: globalization and the concept of individual style
In the late 1960s and 1970s, the concept of African identity started to lose its political
importance. Various coups in Ghana and wars between African countries destroyed the illusion
of national and Pan-African unity. The notion of a shared cultural past expressed in
contemporary national and pan-African artistic styles lost its significance for many (but not all)
of the artists. Students at the School of Fine Arts in Kumasi felt themselves restricted by their
teachers, who wanted them to be inspired by their identity as African or Ghanaian. Some artists
rejected the notion of artistic style as an expression of African identity. To them, this idea was
only a political construction, previously useful in the struggle for independence, but nowadays
no longer having an important function. It was regarded by some as oppressive, because it did
not leave any space for an artist's individual identity or his personal opinion about national and
14
international developments. To their displeasure, art had become an instrument of national
14
politics:
The idea of an existing original national Art should be rejected outright, since Art in its
present state is universal. No Nation can now lay a claim to a national style in Art.
Public mind has been polluted by the idea of `Pan Africanism' (African personality),
hence the call for the Ghanaian artist to express himself in a national style (Quao 1970:
53).
Delaquis argued that in the 1960s, the more extreme advocators of black identity restricted
freedom of expression by propagating strict ideas about the style in which black artists should
work. He accounted how once, when he was a student at the School of Fine Arts in Kumasi in
the late 1960s, he had drawn a spheric picture of a Ghanaian female model in light greys.
Mitchell, his African American teacher, had shouted that he should have used a black pencil to
show that the model's skin colour was black instead of grey. By using a grey pencil, he had
denied both his own and the model's black identity!
A number of artists who belonged to the younger generation in the 1970s refused to identify
themselves primarily as Africans or blacks. Instead they emphasized that they were individuals
who belonged to an international community of directly or indirectly communicating artists.
They rejected the existence of a consciously-created African style. African identity and style
were no longer seen as natural categories but deconstructed as cultural constructs. Glover told
me in 1989 that he often tried to convince his students that art made by Africans does need to
`look African':
It is sad. I keep telling my students and everybody I meet that it is sad to make a
conscious effort to do something called an African painting. . .I think it is wrong to
make something African, because there is nothing like African. The African is me, so
if what comes out of me cannot be taken as African, then what is African?
The painter and art teacher Ata Kwame argued: `I am African, but then I am not proud of being
African. It is no big deal; I am just a human being, in the sense that Africans are not special'.
The emphasis on individuality by some Ghanaian artists is reflected and enforced in their
artistic products. Their style is no longer meant to be an accessible expression of group identity,
but a highly personal way of giving form to ideas. They do not divide the world into African and
non-African parts, but into international social networks forming professional fields: people
who are part of the international high art scene, and people who are not. Values thought to be
essential in this scene are emphasized, such as individualism, innovation, and originality. The
artist is seen as a characteristic individual, who expresses his views in a personal, unique style.
The painter Wemega-Kwawu, a self-made artist who is determined to enter the international art
world, is one of the most extreme artists in his pronouncements. In his brochure, published
when he exhibited in the American Club in Accra, he states:
When I paint, I work solely for myself, developing my technique primarily to give free
reign of expression to my inspiration. I am not accountable to anyone, nor is it
necessary to acknowledge any basis for rationality (Wemega-Kwawu 1989: 10).
15
When I visited him in 1989, he told me endless stories about famous European artists such as
Picasso, Gaugain, van Gogh and others. He sketched such vivid pictures of these artists, their
lonely struggles and their final success, that it seemed as if he was talking about his closest
friends. In every story he emphasized that, after a period of hunger, humiliation, and insecurity
all these artists had `made it' as innovative artists, and become accepted. The endless and
detailed `success after all' stories obviously helped him to keep on believing in developing a
distinct, individual style, even though the biggest buying groups of Ghanaian art are more
interested in easily recognizable depictions of the Ghanaian world.
The ideology of individuality is clearly articulated and communicated by works of artists such
as Wemega-Kwawu and Ata Kwame. Through their works, most of which are not obviously
`made in Africa', they show themselves opposed to notions of `African-ness' in art and turn their
backs on the biggest group of art buyers, who are only interested in easily-understood images of
15
Africa (Svašek 1991b). This does not mean that they regard themselves as isolated beings,
unformed by society. Wemega-Kwawu for instance, does not deny that he is born in Ghana,
influenced by his surroundings, and is inspired by geometrical designs, Akan icons, canoe
decorations, wall paintings and other designs. In the untitled oil painting by him reproduced
here, Wemega-Kwawu does not intend to symbolize African cultural identity through the
depiction of a typical African decoration, but aims to concentrate on what he calls `its universal
quality as graphic design'. Wemega-Kwawu perceives himself as an international artist, who
enjoys non-Ghanaian designs as much as Ghanaian ones.
WEMEGA-KWAWU PICTURE HERE
`Masks' is the title of the oil painting made by Atta Kwame in 1989, who was teaching at the
Academy of Fine Arts in 1989. Without the title, one cannot easily make the connection
between the image and the objects of its inspiration. The combination of the abstract
composition and the title gives an impression of a painter who speaks in a personal visual
language, only lightly inspired by the actual forms of masks. He seems to be more interested in
experimenting with form and colour than with the sending of a clear message. The absence of a
clear content forces the onlooker to use his or her own imagination and to concentrate on the
formal qualities of the work.
KWAME PICTURE HERE
The fact that some artists define themselves emphatically as individuals who belong to an
international artistic network, must be understood as a critique of national politics as well as of
the unequal global distribution of economic power. Both limit the artists in their communicative
and economic possibilities. Nationalist politicians are suspicious of critical art and because of
lack of money and influence, Ghanaian international artists have a rather peripheral position in
the High Art world. By creating a utopian image of a single world-wide artistic community, they
claim the right to be part of a global network of respected and well-paid art, not dominated by
national politics or Western economic power.
16
It is interesting that similar images of equality are constructed by Western promoters of African
contemporary art. Vogel, for instance, seems to be quite optimistic about the position of African
artists when she notes that `insofar as one can generalize about so large a group, International
artists in Africa do not feel themselves to be marginalized or on the periphery' (Vogel 1991:
194). In my opinion, this is a naive assumption. During my research, I found that Ghanaian
artists who aim to be part of the network of internationally accepted art have many problems in
finding access to it. Compared to their Western colleagues, they do feel themselves
marginalized.
Shifting Identities, Changing Styles
So far, I have given examples of situations in which artists clearly defined their artistic identities
and styles, either in line with or against the expectations of their public and other artists. In the
examples given, the artists represented themselves as 'natural', identifiable wholes (such as
traditional, modern, and individual), and deconstructed other essentialist images (such as
primitive, black, and African). All these labels suggested that Ghanaian artists perceive
themselves as having a rather fixed social identity, expressed in a specific manner. Yet, during
my fieldwork, I also spoke with artists who interpreted their artistic behaviour from a nonessentialist view on identity and style. This alternative view is based on ideas of inconsistency
and change, and is in line with Katherine Ewing's remark that `people can be observed to project
multiple, inconsistent self-representations that are context dependent and may shift rapidly'
(Ewing 1990: 251).
The sculptor Kweku Andrews, teacher at the School of Fine Arts in Kumasi, showed himself to
be someone who selects consciously which identity to emphasize in which communicative
context. He was born in Ghana in 1939, but lived from 1975 to 1981 in the United States.
During his stay there, he studied art, taught art appreciation (in the framework of a course in
Black American Studies), lived as artist in residence in the Midlands, and exhibited and sold his
sculptures. When he came back to Ghana he became teacher of the sculpture department at the
School of Fine Arts in Kumasi. When I interviewed him, he told me that in the United States, in
reaction to the expectations of African Americans, he consiously presented himself as an
`African artist'. In Ghana on the other hand, when teaching his Ghanaian students, he
emphasizes that they should not limit themselves by ideas about 'Africa'.
MS:
There is so much talk about African identity. Was it important when you were in
America?
KA:
It was, because there was pressure from the black Americans. They wanted you to be
an African. And I was [laughs]. . .
MS:
And about this African identity. . .can you tell me more about it?
KA:
Sure, in fact when I went to the United States, at first, I was more influenced by white
American arts. Our professor was Debbie Butterfield, and she told me, `I don't know
17
which programme I should draw for you. What is your idea? Your works are quite
different from what we are doing here.' I said, `Don't worry, I can can pick up ideas
here and there.' [But] she wanted to draw a special programme for me, and I became
very comfortable with it. Together with other African artists, we formed a black
committee, and had a group exhibition in Chicago. When we opened the exhibition,
my wood carvings which were inspired by the work of the Ghanian sculptor Vincent
16
Kofi, were bought instantly. That inspired me, because the person who bought them
was a black American, and he understood what I was trying to say. So I said: `Ok, I
think my people are trying to understand me, so why don't you go on doing your own
African thing.' When I heard these black Americans converse among themselves, I
understood that they wanted to know much about their African background. I could
portray that in my work, and I could speak about it.
MS:
So they pushed you in a way?
KA:
That's right, they actually pushed me.
MS:
Not to go more into a European style.
KA:
It was more or less political [laughs].
MS:
You helped them in their struggle?
KA:
That's right. . . I was pushed by the black community in America. They wanted to see
something African.
MS:
And is it still important, this search for African roots?
KA:
Very very important. Even the government now is asking us to be an African, to
portray Africans. But on the other hand I talk to my students and say: `You have to feel
free to portray anything you want. It should not be bound.'
MS:
They should not be imprisoned.
KA:
That's right. I show them my works. I listen to people, I have to be inspired by
something. Sometimes I sit down and I feel that I have portray something about
Britain. Then I have to do it.
MS:
Human beings are human beings in the first place, and not Africans or Europeans?
KA:
That's right. We are all members of the world, so we can speak to anybody. If you see
one of my favourite carvings in my house, it depicts an African boy taking care of the
cows. He is African, but the whole idea is about taking care of animals, which is
something that takes place all throughout the world. So I told my students, if you are
inspired by something, go for it. But never think only about Africa, or your Ghanaian
background.
18
Andrews was not the only artist I met, who consciously chose to emphasize alternately different,
seemingly conflicting identities. Andrews did this by interpreting his work and his task as an
artist differently in different contexts.
Other artists accomplished this effect by working in two or more different styles, each stressing
another aspect of their multiple identity. The manipulation with various identities and styles
might seem to be a sign of a free, relativist attitude towards life. However, Ghanaian artists
themselves regard their flexibility more often than not as the result of restricting market forces.
Producing works in different styles was a strategy to enhance their sales, reacting to the
expectations of different groups of consumers. One, easily marketable style (representing exotic
African tradition) easily fitted to the taste of foreign customers. Besides that, they produced
works which were harder to place, and therefore, harder to sell. The formally trained artists
almost always argued that they preferred their less marketable work, but that they were forced
by their financial situation to produce exotic pictures as well.
Conclusion
The changing definition and meaning of style and identity in Ghanaian artistic discourse is part
of a wider process in which artists, critics and art consumers articulate consciousness and claim
political rights. The British colonialists justified their control over the Gold Coast by ascribing
to the inhabitants an inferior primitive identity expressed by objects made in an undeveloped
style. Emancipated Gold Coasters deconstructed this image, and redefined it as a powerful and
oppressive cultural construct. They claimed black cultural and political independence on the
basis of Pan-African identity. National governments did the same after independence. African
identity was imagined and expressed in different ways. To some, it was based on traditions
rooted in the past which could be depicted in figurative styles. Others defined it as a dynamic
process which should be developed further, and found inspiration in the abstract and semiabstract art of their predecessors. Another group of artists, concentrating on what they saw as
the modern aspects of African identity, depicted them in a figurative manner.
Many artists use more than one artistic style, mostly for commercial reasons. Because of the
taboo on talk of commercialism, only a few artists admit this. Some artists argue that the use of
more styles is related to the fact that their identity is not fixed, and that they emphasize different
aspects of their identity depending on the social context.
Some artists rejected the notion of African and national identity as purely ideological concepts,
having political but not much artistic value. They argued that art works based on 'African-ness'
are a commercial success mainly because they are still interpreted as images of backwardness
and exoticism, and see themselves as international, individual artists. On this basis, they have
claimed freedom of expression and equal access to the Western-controlled international High
Art market. Their imagined unification of international artists in one shared global artistic
community functions as a demand for change and a mystification of reality at the same time.
Although the interest in African contemporary art by Western art dealers and exhibitionmakers
19
is growing, the reality is that the works are still mostly exhibited in centres for African culture
and ethnographic museums, such as the Volkenkundig Museum in Rotterdam, the
Tropenmuseum in Amsterdam, the Iwalewa Haus in Bayreuth, and the Centre for African Art in
New York. In the last decade however, the exhibition of contemporary African art in Western
art museums has slowly become more common (Faber 1992: 65). In 1989, the Centre Pompidou
in Paris organized the exhibition Magiciens de la Terre which included contemporary art from
all over the world (Martin 1989). In 1991--2, the Groninger Museum mounted the exhibition
Africa Now. In 1993, the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam showed the works of twenty-seven
South-African artists in the exhibition Zuiderkruis. Many other examples could be given.
It would however be naive to suppose that that the growing interest by Western art museums in
African contemporary art implies a more equal distribution of power in the global art world.
After all, the staff members of the art museums decide to organize exhibitions of African art.
They are the ones who control the exhibition financially, and appoint exhibition curators. The
curators then create exhibition concepts and select the objects, partly on the basis of their own
intellectual and aesthetic preferences, and partly influenced by the expectations of the museum
17
public.
In the case of the Magiciens de la Terre exhibition, none of the above mentioned Ghanaian
artists was chosen to participate, even though most of them were considered 'important' by the
Ghanaian art historian Kojo Fosu (Fosu 1986). What was shown instead, was something which
seemed spectacular in Western eyes: coffins shaped in, for example, the form of a Mercedes
Benz by the wayside artist Kane Kwei. In fact, most Ghanaian producers and consumers of
Ghanaian international art I spoke with, regarded Kwei's coffins as functional craft, and opposed
that to real art. This points at how, within Ghanaian society, the elite differentiates itself as a
distinct social group from `the people' through knowledge about art made by academically
trained intellectual artists. Whereas `normal people' only have access to artists who work in
public on commission, members of the urban elite are invited to private exhibitions of
18
international Ghanaian artists, and have the money and space to buy and display the art works.
Kwei's coffins were also selected for the exhibition Africa Explores, organized in 1991 by the
Centre for African Art in New York. In this exhibition, the objects were classified as `new
functional art' and thus distinguished from 'international art' (Vogel 1991: 97-100). In this
exhibition, the curators tried to respect the meaning the coffins have in Ghana. However, by
isolating them within the walls of an American museum, the coffins were automatically
aestheticized and made into 'objects of others'.
The choice for Kwei's coffin by the curators of Magiciens de la Terre shows that history of art
19
is still mainly written by Western and Western-oriented art historians and critics. The curators
Martin (in Paris) and Vogel (in New York) had the power to decide which objects were to be
20
recontextualized as products of `world magicians' and `African explorers'. Idealistic notions of
`increasing equality for all artists' must clearly be replaced by a more complex perspective
which reveals the power struggles inherent to art production in the context of a global artworld.
20
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Val Daniel, Peter Pels and Jeremy MacClancy for their reactions to an
earlier draft of this article.
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22
-- (1991b), `"Rikki" Doesn't Give in to the Public: The Badly Understood Pictures of WemegaKwawu', Ghana Newsletter, vol. 9, no. 2, Nijmegen, pp. 22--27
-- (1991c), `It is Not My Fault We Use Toyota's and Bedfords: Ato Delaquis Paints Everydaylife', Ghana Newsletter, vol. 9, no. 1, Nijmegen, pp. 10--16
Szombati-Fabian, Ilona and Fabian, Johannes (1976), `Art, History and Society: Popular
Painting in Shaba, Zaire', Studies in the Anthropology of Visual Communication, vol. 3, no. 1,
pp. 1--21
Vogel, Susan (1991), `International Art: The Official Story', Africa Explores: 20th Century
African Art, New York: Centre for African Art, pp. 176--197
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Endnotes
1...
The objects of the Cree Indians, which were actually objects the Indians used in their own household, were
placed by most of the students in a category of non-authentic craft. The animal statues of the Eskimos, produced as souvenirs
for tourists, were classified as genuine works of art.
2...
The name `way-side artist' comes from the fact that these artists have their workshop/shop by the side of the
road at strategic places where many potential customers walk or drive past. Tourist artists, those who work for the souvenir
market, are often also called `way-side artists'.
3...
By creating an image of an objective but hidden domain of artistic regularities that can only be discovered by
themselves, art historians create and justify the existence of their own professional field. Donald Preziosi notes how, in the
movie Lust for Life, a cinematical biography of Vincent van Gogh, `the art historian or critic is the implied practitioner or
operator of a revelatory machinery, working at the recuperative task of reconstituting for a lay audience an originary fullness of
meaning and reference, a semiotically articulatable presence of real being'. Thus, the movie `performs important ideological
work for art history and criticism (Preziosi 1989: 22).
4...
In his lecture The Style of the Method, at the `International Conference on Style in Philosophy and the Arts' held
at the University of Amsterdam in April 1990, Berel Lang called the denial of authorship of both scientific and artistic styles an
`ideological decontextualization and a wilful repression of history'.
5...
McEvilley also identifies a relationship between the collecting of African objects, the `freezing' of Western and
non-Western identities and the construction of an ideology of Western superiority: `In the colonial period, objects made in nonWestern cultures were brought back to the West not just as booty but as evidence. They were understood, at however mute a
level, as proof of the superiority of the colonialists -- that was the point of calling the colonialized cultures "primitive"'
(McEvilley 1991: 266).
6...
James Clifford has remarked, `The fact that rather abruptly, in the space of a few decades, a large class of nonWestern artifacts came to be redefined as art is a taxonomic shift that requires critical historical discussion, not celebration. .
.the scope and underlying logic of the "discovery" of tribal art reproduces hegemonic Western assumptions rooted in the
colonial and neocolonial epoch' (Clifford 1988: 196--7).
7...
Mitchell, who taught art history at the University of Science and Technology in Kumasi in the 1970s, writes:
`Another mystifying fabrication propagated again by our European inhabitants, is the so-called African Negro Art. The most
unethical thing about this unscientific study is the complete alienation of certain parts of African from African Art.
Concentration is consistently focused on fetish, ritualistic sculpture to the exclusion of almost all other art forms' (Mitchell
1988: 39).
8...
The art department was established at the College in 1936 by the British sculptor and designer H.V.
Meyerowitz. As director of the art department, he designed a three-year course, and employed an educational staff consisting
of Europeans and Africans. When Meyerowitz died in 1946, the Scottish painter J. M. Mackendrick succeeded him. In 1951
the department moved to Kumasi and became part of the University of Science and Technology. Mackendrick stayed head
until four years after Ghana's independence in 1957. He was replaced in 1961 by the Ghanaian painter S.V. Asihene, who had
already worked at the department as a painting teacher. The department was renamed into the School of Fine Arts, and the
course was extended to four years. The school contained sections of painting, sculpture, ceramics, commercial and graphic
design, research, extramural studies, textiles, jewelry, and art education (Mount 1973: 124--25).
24
9...
This not only happened in the Gold Coast but in many other African and non-African colonized areas. The
Lebanese painter Wasma' Khalid Chorbachi wrote: `There is nothing wrong with Western styles. But they simply were not my
language. That was not me! I had to have my own language' (Chorbachi 1989: 146). Also in Indonesia, some artists
consciously turned away from realism and found inspiration in their indigenous art forms (Spanjaard 1988: 114).
10...
According to Kudowar, besides the first economic reason, there was also a political reason, namely that `the
concept of Africanisation expounded by Kwame Nkrumah was taken up seriously by both painters and writers' (Kudowar
1981: 19). As a third cause, he mentions the influence of Western artists such as Picasso, who were fascinated by old African
art, on Ghanaian intellectual artists. In Kudowar's words, there was a `consciousness or discovery of the beauty in African art
by Africans themselves as a result of Western interests'(ibid.)
11...
The connection between the artist's output and the expectations of buyers in Ghana has been a central theme in
my own writings about Ghanaian art (Svasek 1989, 1990a, 1991a).
12...
Because at present the demand for past cultural scenes is still high, Ghanaian art producers keep on creating
these images. My analysis of the works made for the final examination in 1989 by painting and sculpture students of the
Academy of Fine Arts in Kumasi, at the University of Science and Technology, shows that 50% (54 of 108 art works made by
12 painting students and 18 sculpture students) are depictions of past cultural scenes (Svasek 1990a: 95).
13...
In all Ghanaian cities and towns there are numerous possibilities to learn informally how to paint, carve, and
design. In most commercial centres there are workshops, where art works are produced and often also sold. In the workshops I
visited, the number of assistants varied from one to five.
14...
In Senegal, the same thing happened. The École de Dakar was established to produce artists, who created
images which were intended to communicate Sengor's message of Négritude. First of all, it functioned in a process of
emancipation from the white cultural domination. But at the same time, '(its) fictional ethnographic repertoire. . ., coupled with
the state's appropriation of the works these artists made, aligned the school with an official, largely ahistorical national space in
which the artists were generally unable to reflect on or adjust to social and political change' (Ebong 1991: 204).
15...
Partly for commercial reasons and partly because they `enjoy doing it', paintings that clearly depict images of
African or Ghanaian life are made by these artists. Working in different styles is quite common in Ghana. Mostly this can be
explained as a marketing strategy: a bigger section of the public can be reached if one works in more than one genre.
16...
Vincent Kofi was highly inspired by Nkrumah's political ideas. During a stay in the United States at the
Columbia University in 1959--60, he made the statue Awakening Africa, a bronze figure, sitting up, with the eyes looking
determined into the future. The face of the figure is inspired by the features of the head of the Akuaba figure (Mount 1973:
129--31).
17...
The art historian and curator David Elliot notes, 'Audiences have their rights too and their greatest right is, of
course, not to visit the museum. The larger the cultural difference, the wider the gap to be mediated and the more critical the
cultural balancing act becomes. If the tastes and expectations of the public are not taken into account, both museum and the art
it shows rapidly lose their credibility' (Elliot 1992: 34).
18...
It is paradoxical that Ghanaian art historians promote works created by formally trained artists and show less
interest in the works of the informally trained wayside artists, whereas in the West, exhibition-makers prefer works of the
latter. Because of their influence in the global art world, Western exhibition-makers seem to `undermine' the position of
25
indigenous art historians.
19...
Howard Morphy writes, 'Often, the role of the local (art) market in its global context is to act as a filter,
selecting out from the many those few artists who will operate on a global scale. However, as long as the global focus is in the
West the flow from the local to the global will be limited by the spaces allocated within that market' (Morphy 1995: 217).
20...
It is not surprising that the organizers of Les Magiciens de la Terre have been accused by several critics of a
neo-colonial attitude (Konijn 1992: 29). Despite this criticism, the exhibition remained `the first. . .to bring together
contemporary art from all over the world. For the first time ever, art from non-Western countries was set in an historical
framework' (ibid.)