aesthetics and market demand the structure of the tourist art market in three african

Aesthetics and Market Demand: The Structure of the Tourist Art Market in Three AfricanSettingsAuthor(s): Bennetta Jules-RosetteSource: African Studies Review, Vol. 29, No. 1 (Mar., 1986), pp. 41-59Published by: African Studies AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/524106 .

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AESTHETICS AND MARKET DEMAND: THE STRUCTURE OF THE TOURIST ART MARKET IN

THREE AFRICAN SETTINGS

Bennetta Jules-Rosette

The concept of aesthetics is a "red herring" in the study of contemporary art. Often aesthetics is equated with technique (cf. Henri, 1960: 88) or with adherence to the dominant themes of a particular school of art.1 In the case of "tourist" and "folk" art, the concept of aesthetics is generally salvaged by introducing the notion that artistic preferences are culturally relative and are influenced by the conditions under which the particular art form is produced. Warren d'Azevedo (1973: 7) thus qualifies: "The apparent absence of these factors [i.e., formal aesthetic standards], as well as the lack of clearly explicated concepts equivalent to art or aesthetics in most non- Western cultures, has caused us to suspect that the expression of artistry may be somehow fundamentally different from our own."

This and similar assertions have led to the development of the approach of "ethnoaesthetics" based upon the internal standards of judgement and criticism generated by the values of the artists and the audience in non-Western cultures. Here I shall argue that neither the conventional notion of aesthetics nor the new concept of "ethnoaesthetics" (cf. Crowley, 1966; Thompson, 1968; Silver, 1979: 289-292) adequately explains the complex relationship between the production and reception of tourist art. Moreover, I shall introduce an analysis of aesthetics which defines tourist art objects as media of communication between the new art producers and their audience. Therefore, it is necessary to begin with a basic definition of tourist art in Africa.

WHAT IS TOURIST ART IN AFRICA?

If we assume that aesthetics entails a form of communication rather than appreciation, tourist art objects may be seen as vital symbols of change in transitional cultures and socieities. Instead of emerging as "shoddy fakes" or "conveyor belt" products, tourist art objects may be seen as part of a communicative sequence in which the movement toward mass production creates a stimulus for audience response and the further reinterpretation of the artworks.

African Studies Review, Volume 29, Number 1, March 1986.



42 AFRICAN STUDIES REVIEW

Mount (1974: 39) defines tourist or souvenir objects as those "created primarily for sale to Westerners eager to own a piece of 'genuine' African art but who are unaware or unappreciative of traditional work." His assumption blends both conventional art criticism and ethnoaesthetics in asserting that artistic deviations from western expectations as perceived by tourists are not supplanted with their understanding of the high artistic standards of African cultures. Hence, Mount concludes that tourist art objects are those produced for commercial sale and not motivated by genuine "aesthetic" concerns.

Similarly, in his analysis of the status of modern souvenir art among the Senufo, Goldwater (1964: 120) concludes that crude workmanship is the hallmark of much tourist art.2 In his landmark study of ethnic and tourist arts in the fourth world, Graburn (1976: 6; 299-302) refers to tourist art objects, including Kamba wood carvings, as "ethnokitsch," conveyor belt items produced entirely to meet the popular notions of consumers. His opinion is echoed in Bascom's (1976: 303-319) article on changing African art. Here, Bascom (1976: 312) asserts that tourist art objects tend to be characterized by "shoddy workmanship" because of the commercial emphasis on production in large volume. Further, he emphatically states (1976: 313): "Whether they are good or bad, tourist tastes have an effect on the work of African artists; indeed it would seem that some artists aim at the lowest common denominator." This approach draws upon the conventional equation of aesthetics with preference or tastes. In this case, the tourists who are the "receivers" of the artistic communication are blamed, at least in part, for the "inferior" quality of modern art in Africa.

These groundbreaking approaches have influenced more recent field studies of tourist art in Africa. For example, in her study of art, economics, and change among the Kulebele of the northern Ivory Coast, Richter (1980: 66-67) asserts that the aesthetic values and standards of tourist carvers are often compromised by commercial motives. She draws a fine distinction among "hack" commercial carvers, competent carvers, and experts capable of carving in the customary Senufo format. In this vein, Richter (1980: 66 and 67) asserts:

Hack carvers and teenagers are responsible for the bulk of poor quality items found in the tourist art market...Often carvers in this category have mastered the technique for carving only one model of face mask or statue. The masks they produce are not and would not be used in the traditional context; they are crudely done and exhibit poor craftsmanship.

Craftmanship and aesthetics are, of course, distinctive although related criteria for evaluating an art object. With regard to this discussion, the most salient point made by both Richter and Bascom is that the response of the tourist art market dilutes the value and quality of the artworks produced. There is an implicit assumption that commercialization is equivalent to mass production and that both processes diminish the inherent value and craftsmanship of the final product.

Several recurrent themes appear in these critiques of the quality and aesthetic dimensions of tourist art. They may be outlined in terms of five major assumptions about the mode and quality of tourist art production: (1) tourist art objects are mass produced in fairly large quantities; (2) many tourist art objects are made by many inexperienced craftsmen; (3) several craftsmen, as opposed to a lone artist, create a single piece; (4) the consumer's demand is more important than the producer's



Aesthetics and Market Demand 43

creativity in the production of tourist art; and (5) the resultant artworks are inferior in quality or artistically uninteresting. Each of these assumptions presupposes either a conventional or a relativistic "ethnoaesthetics" approach to tourist art without analyzing its communicative aims and content. A re-examination of the relationship between aesthetics and market demand in tourist art along with new data on the subject proposes a revealing commentary on the quality and social uses of these artworks.

AESTHETICS AND MARKET DEMAND: TOWARD A THEORY OF THE PRODUCTION AND RECEPTION OF TOURIST ART

If we posit that the commercial motive diminishes the quality of tourist art production, it becomes of utmost importance to examine the modes of tourist art production as they relate to the structure of the art market in diverse African settings. My recent comparative study of tourist art in the Ivory Coast, Zambia, and Kenya suggests that there is not a "single" tourist art market, as implied in the above studies, but rather a series of intersecting markets to which the artists in various settings respond differentially. Although such an assumption is implicit in Richter's (1980) research in the Ivory Coast, it is not carried to the fullest theoretical and empirical conclusion. Cooper (1980: 6-7) has compared the emergence of Third World tourist art workshops and cooperatives to the "period of manufacture" in 16th and 17th century Europe.3

The grouping together of independent craftsmen and artisans into single workshops was characteristic of the period of manufacture that preceded large-scale industrial development in the West. In a workshop, the artisans generalized skills gradually disappeared. Through "assembly-line" organization, the process of production was increasingly segmented into separate manual operations. Although some shifts in the production process were abrupt, others were accretionary and were barely noticed by the artisans when they were first introduced. The workshops provide the key to understanding the extent and quantity of tourist art production.

In order to comprehend the relationship between production and consumption in tourist art, it is necessary to review four types of art markets: (1) the village market, (2) the "conventional" urban market, (3) the curio trade, and (4) the gallery connection used by popular artists.4 In the first market, the entire village serves as the ecosystem for tourist art. The conventional urban market is one in which a carver, potter, weaver, or painter produces on contract or order on an irregular basis using designs and formats developed in the village milieu. Middlemen are employed at a minimal level and the circulation of goods is low.

On the other hand, the curio trade sets the tone and pace for tourist art production. In this case, the division of labor may be relatively complex and the production rate high. In the fourth case, artists have been exposed to outside gallery contacts often issuing from Western sources. Although the circulation of goods may be relatively low, pricing is high and quality control is strict. These four cases represent a progression from an undifferentiated ecosystem for the artworks to a pluralistic and increasingly complex market that, in the fourth case, often involves direct international contact and trade. In each instance, the "quality " of the art object




produced is directly influenced by the structure of the art market and the type of market demands that it entails.

Mary Douglas' analysis of the production of raffia cloth among the Lele of south-western Zaire falls under the village market category. While it is viewed as an important aesthetic object, cut-pile raffia also provides a monetary standard for trade. In fact, in the 1950s when Mary Douglas studied Lele raffia production, the value of Congo francs was judged by the Lele in terms of raffia cloth exchange.5 The Lele used raffia to purchase such external trade objects as pottery, arrowheads, and hoes from neighboring tribes and from Belgian settlers. Within Lele society, raffia was used in recompense for valued skilled work, brideprice, and repayments for social debts and obligations. Nevertheless, the Lele preferred raffia exchange to monetary sale. Douglas (1958: 116) concludes: "In their reluctance to sell for francs and their readiness to sell for raffia, there is an element of what I can only call 'irrational producer's preference,' which I believe may attach to goods produced for subsistence in any economy."

Douglas' discussion deals with the transition from a subsistence to a money market for art objects in a special way. Although she does not analyze the production of raffia as an item for tourist consumption, she demonstrates the readiness of the raffia exchange system for tourist trade. Subsequent to her research, women began to decorate small raffia strips for tourist sale. This new market became possible by virtue of the fact that the customary exchange of high quality raffia pieces for bridewealth and debt payment remained in tact while tourist pieces which were smaller and less complex were produced for cash sales.

Couching Douglas' argument in terms of a communications theory of art production and reception renders it even more interesting. Douglas explains that all Lele men can weave raffia. The process of weaving, however, is lengthy. It may take an entire day to complete two or three strips. The high value which is invested in its production and to its social uses is the basis for bridewealth. Raffia is a work of art which translates directly into economic and social value. Hence, the notion that traditional African arts clearly separate ceremonial and economic functions is overturned in the case of Lele raffia production. The symbolic value of raffia both as art and as "money" is rooted in its status as a work of art and a handmade product.

At the same time, raffia is a unit of exchange that creates a bridge into the larger transitional cash economy. For the Lele at the time of Douglas' study, however, the monetary exchange value of raffia was secondary to its inherent value as an object of cultural and social exchange. She suggests that there was no incentive to increase raffia production to meet economic demands because its inherent value derived in part from its scarcity. Since obtaining raffia within Lele society relies upon one's social contacts, the purchase of raffia with money is a sign of social impotence. Douglas (1958: 118) summarizes:

In frequent conversations about the need to raise raffia cloth, it is a striking fact that men think first not of sitting down to weave, but of pursuing any debts and claims outstanding. They hope to meet the demand for raffia by increasing the velocity of circulation rather than by increasing supplies.

As already indicated, from the perspective of tourist art, raffia cloth is noteworthy because of its highly differentiated uses. It is still produced for




ceremonial and political purposes in Lele society. In recent times, raffia cloths have been produced for sale to neighboring Luba and Chokwe traders and to tourists. Thus, the art object, valued in its own right for its aesthetic qualities and craftsmanship, has an increasingly universal value as an object of trade.

In a study of modem Nigerian ebony carvers, Paula Ben-Amos (1976: 327) found that carvers newly entering commercial trade "produce whatever sells, regardless of a sense of pride in knowing traditional patterns." Across the continent, a Kamba carver in Kenya reflected a similar attitude when he explained that carving is financially motivated for sale to Westerners. These statements suggest three important factors in the adjustment of many contemporary African artists to the commercial sector: (1) knowlege of traditional styles and techniques, (2) a conscious attempt to modify these styles to appeal to an expanded audience, and (3) a direct relationship between the supply of carvings and the sources of commercial demand.

It is critical at this point to make a distinction between artistic expertise or craftsmanship and quality control. Thompson (1968: 44-46) identifies several "ethnoaesthetic"categories including symmetry, visibility, proportion, and movement. Artists experienced in the production of traditional forms are throughly familiar with the aesthetic canons that are valued in their culture. Aesthetics in this sense must be distinguished from the forms of quality control engaged in by the cottage industries and cooperatives. In this case, workshop heads monitor orders for uniform quality. Thereby, they weed out innovative or unusual additions that do not meet the expectations of the order. Aesthetics and quality control are interrelated as direct responses to the structure of the art market.

Hans Robert Jauss (1970: 7-37) presents the concept of an aesthetics of reception which "mediates between passive reception and active understanding, norm- setting experience and new production." He argues that the audience for an artwork actively defines and shapes its aesthetic evaluation and paves the way for future works. When Jauss' observations are applied to tourist art in Africa, it may be concluded that the consumer audience actively influences the artists' products and future projects. The impact of the consumer connection becomes visible in the quantity of production, the standards of craftsmanship, and the aesthetic quality of the final work. My case studies underline the interplay of these three dimensions of artistic production in relationship to the consumption of tourist art.

THE CONSUMPTION OF TOURIST ART

This discussion has emphasized two basic approaches to commercialization--the modification of traditional arts for tourist sale and the mass production of souvenir pieces. The uniformity of standards for evaluating the commercial arts should not be exaggerated. For the most part, mass-produced carvings do not make an explicit ideological or artistic statement to consumers.6 While I have emphasized that consumers of commercial carvings are not merely tourists, but are outsiders of all types and a cross-section of the local population, many consumers are involved in the souvenir search. All memories, good and bad, of a foreign land are condensed into the souvenir. Consumers have a "love-hate" relationship to souvenirs which have great sentimental value but also invoke unpleasant memories of price haggling and misadventures. The artists who produce these objects share a similar ambivalence




about the meaning and quality of their work. Some conventional and commercial artists, for example, produce for museum collectors and tourists under separate identities. They do so as an implicit response to what they perceive as the contrasting aesthetic evaluations of these art forms.

The village markets described by Douglas and Richter are ones in which master weavers or carvers continue to produce for ceremonial purposes while developing new items for commercial sale. Quantity is generated in this market by less experienced artisans and apprentices who meet the perceived commercial demand through middlemen and direct sales to tourists. This market shows very rudimentary internal differentiation. Two types of consumers are related to the type one market: the tourists and the middlemen. In this case, the producers do not hire vendors, but wait for the vendors to approach them. They may never actually see the ultimate buyers. Hence the art producers have only indirect control over the extent and character of the market.

The "cash-credit-ordering" system is the major link in the chain from art production to consumption. This system involves some barter for the African middlemen and cash purchases for outside vendors and tourists. Artists may accept an exchange in goods and services as partial payment for a work purchased locally. Generally, this process involves the supply of raw materials such as ivory, malachite, or wood by the middleman or vendor. In the Ivory Coast, this system was also observed to operate in a limited form for Europeans who provided paints and imported items for artists.

Dealers and middlemen convey the appeal of the items produced to the artists. For example, the Senufo carvers in the villages surrounding Korhogo carve for tourists and dealers in that city and for consumers in Abidjan. However, direct sale to tourists in this instance may be relatively rare. Richter (1980: 103) quotes one Kulebele carver as asserting that he "carves for the whites." This knowledge, however, arises primarily through indirect contact.

Ordering is an important form of commercial contact. Ben-Amos (1977: 134) emphasizes that ordering creates the key difference between the traditional and the commercial arts among Bini carvers: "Traditional carvings were made for the Oba and, with his explicit permission, for members of the nobility and some commoners. The modem carver sells to visiting Europeans, Nigeria civil servants, and a few chiefs as well as utilizing the Hausa traders and other middlemen." Orders introduce new functional objects and styles into carving (e.g., decorative tables, letter openers, bookends, ashtrays, or shoe horns). These items respond directly to commercial demand. As the tourist art market expands, the individual and the bulk order become increasingly important as stimuli of art production.

In the fourth popular art market, the artists produce for gallery exhibitions, international trade with particular patrons and consumers in mind. They also produce for themselves, through developing new genres and styles. The new figuratist circle and the Kamba sculptors involved in the gallery trade illustrate this pattern of production. The fact that these artists view themselves as producing with the larger art world for an international audience does not, however, assure that their works are treated in a comparable manner by consumers. Consumers who purchase gallery items may regard these products as refined versions of tourist curios. The market alone does not determine aesthetic evaluations, but it does shape the styles and productivity of the artists.




Since art is not an essential commodity, the saturation of the market depends a great deal upon the stimulation of consumer interest and the expansion of the scope of the market beyond the local level. The urban cooperatives accomplish this expansion through the export trade. At the other end of the continuum, the village and urban conventional artists attempt to enlarge their audience through product diversification. The new figuratists painters represent an intermediary point in this process, and they can be used to exemplify the relationship between the perception of the consumer audience and the development of contrasting networks for product distribution.

During the period of my field research, the new figuratist commercial painters of Lusaka developed several separate outlets for their work.7 Each network consisted of a series of personal relationshiips and involved the painters in a different style or set of subgenres. The following figure illustrates this process:

Street Vending ------ Door-to-door Sales

Kanyama Circle > Secondhand Stores

-' Boutiques

Gallery Sales > International Trade

Merchandise Flow -

Figure One: Sales Among the "New Figuratist" Painters of Lusaka

The painters moved into street vending as a source of subsistence, signing pseudonyms to their paintings to protect their "artistic identities." When street vending was legally curtailed, the Lusaka painters hired young apprentices and assistants to engage in door-to-door sales of the "bread and butter" pieces. Often, those works left over from"street" production were peddled to a secondhand store in downtown Lusaka. Gallery sales contrasted with street vending. Months on end were spent on gallery displays which were priced according to the artists' knowledge of the external markets (from $200 to $600 per canvas). Canvases not sold at the gallery exhibits in rented halls were often transfered to the more prestigious boutiques in town. Thus, the painters created a variation on the "cash-credit-ordering" system by selling both gallery and tourist pieces for cash, turning the remaining pieces over to stores and boutiques on consignment, and making still other paintings, such as elaborate portraits, on order.

The audience for tourist art is, thus, no longer exclusively an integrated village environment. Instead, the cash-credit-ordering connection becomes an ecosystem for the new art. Its quality is not assessed in terms of conventional aesthetic canons but instead with reference to standards of uniformity established by the studios and workshops in which the art is produced. The artists employ the consumer connection




as a point of reference for their work. Yet, their actual knowledge of consumers' tastes and interests is often indirect and distorted.

THE KAMBA CARVERS OF KENYA: A CASE STUDY INTOURIST ART PRODUCTION

The Kamba enterprises of Kenya and their carvers provide a particularly apt case study for the aesthetics of reception and consumption in tourist art. Collectively, the Kamba industries are now a million dollar business enterprise. Over half of their export sales are made to the United States (Benjamin, 1981: 58). The market for Kamba carvings includes types three and four of the tourist art market described above as well as regular international trade connections in London, New York, and Tokyo. Although the genres of Kamba carvings may be examined autonomously as symbolic objects, an understanding of their origins and styles requies an analysis of the relationship between the artists and their audience.

During the First World War, Mutisya wa Munge, a young Kamba man from the Machakos district of Kenya, was stationed in Dar Es Salaam (cf. Elkan, 1958: 314-23). There, he became exposed to the arts of the Makonde people whose present woodcarving traditions, although relatively new, have been traced at least to the mid- nineteenth century (cf. Fouquer, 1975: 10). Mutisya saw that the Makonde were able to subsist on income earned from the sale of carvings. He apprenticed himself and began to learn the crafts.

Working primarily in ebony, the Makonde developed two distinct carving styles: the binadamu and the shetani forms.8 Binadamu are naturalistic figues engaged in the daily activities of village life. The shetani are spirit forms, ancestors, "devils," and netherworld figures which draw upon ancient Makonde myths and religious beliefs.9 Possibly because he did not share the Makonde religion, Mutisya chose to carve in the binadamu style.

Young Mutisya felt and learned to recreate the vibrant reality of Makonde carving and was quick to perceive the economic potential of his lessons. Reportedly returning to his homeland near Wamunyu in Machakos district in 1920, Mutisya began to supplement his livelihood from subsistence farming by these carvings. He taught relatives and fellow villagers. The oldest carvers that I interviewed in Machakos in 1981 informed me that they had learned to carve directly from Mutisya whose descendants now continue his work.

The carvers' accounts of what happened to their craft are ambiguous. In the late 1950s many of the Kamba who had settled in the Mombasa area already recognized the potential of tourism. By 1958, there were evidently many young men apprenticed to elder carvers in Machakos district as well as in Nairobi and Mobasa.10 They set up shop under trees and in vacant lots throughout the city and began by carving simple animal figures in static poses. Realistic poses involving motion were not sought. There was little detail or embellishment. Several of these figures could be completed in a single day and sold directly to passersby for a few shillings.

By 1960, city officials began to view the carvers as an eyesore and a nuisance. Stephen Sambi, one of the older carvers that I interviewed in Mombasa, recalls a day when he and his colleagues were chased away from their customary gathering place




near the center of the city. Discouraged, Sambi returned to his home near the town of Wamunyu for several years. When he came back to Mombasa, a new situation awaited him.

In 1963 Kenya became an idependent nation. Eighteen nations and a host of international agencies rushed to Kenya's assistance. Within fifteen years, development reports projected that major sectors of the modem Kenyan economy would be managed and staffed locally. Although it was generally agreed that self-help at the local level could contribute to national development and significantly improve the living conditions of local villagers, imported manpower was viewed as crucial in technology and in the arts.11 The tourist industry was a boon to the carvers who had previously depended on small-scale informal networks for sales. They acquired a new audience with which they could, ideally, trade directly. In 1963, the Mombasa carvers moved from their temporary locations to Changamwe, a suburb of the city. They constructed thatch-enclosed workshops and joined together in a cooperative. For a fee of 100 Kenyan shillings (about $12.00 U.S.), a carver could acquire cooperative membership and gain free access to the work area. The objective of the cooperative was to provide improved working conditions and a more orderly marketing situation. The carvers were able to pool resources for the purchase of wood and develop display areas for their clientele. The collective display area created a stock of goods that could be used to attract customers and advertise the quality and range of their products.

By 1968, three Kamba cooperatives had been established in Kenya: the original cooperative at Changamwe, a second cooperative initially established by 1965 at Wamunyu in Machakos district, the Kamba homeland, and a third cooperative founded three years later in Nairobi. The strong point in the craft cooperatives' favor is its potential to develop a monopoly over the production, marketing, and stylization of carving. If the carvers collectively could expand the tourist demand for their goods and make enough distinctive items to fill this commercial niche, they could indeed be sought out and recognized internationally. These promises were alluring enough to attract hundreds of men to the Akamba Handicraft Industry Cooperative in Mombasa by 1969. That year, the cooperative had amassed enough revenue to purchass 8.6 acres of land in Changamwe.

By 1981, there were 1,720 official members at the Akamba Industry and 500 non-member regulars. The cooperative had become an urban village. There was talk of pension plans, health plans, a rotating credit union and even an Akamba insurance agency. In addition to meeting the immediate demand for souvenir carvings during the peak tourist season from July through September, the Akamba Industry made export arrangements with major American, Japanese, and European merchandizing outlets. With high productivity, the market for souvenir carvings and giftware could be greatly expanded. In 1981, successful carvers at Akamba said that they were able to average between $500-$700 per month in peak seasons.

As the Changamwe compound grew, however, so did its managerial problems. In addition to the Central Committee which is composed of a Chairman, Vice Chairman, Secretary and Treasurer, it became necessary to hire a "line" managerial organization. Few of the carvers whom I interviewed at Akamba now have more than a 7th grade education. Many of the older men whom I interviewed had less than two years of formal schooling. The cooperative, on the other hand, had grown to the size of a small town and was engaged in international trade. Bookkeepers,




accountants, cashiers, and managers were needed to balance ledgers, control sales, make out purchase orders, and apply for government grants and aid. The 1,720 carvers made too many souvenirs for the already overstocked showrooms. By accepting a percentage of the carvers' annual produce, the cooperative had placed itself in a difficult situation. Even the busloads of international tourists could not absorb the showroom stock.

It might be argued that Changamwe, as the oldest Kamba cooperative, is an "abberation," an early first experiment different in structure from the rest. Indeed, the Akamba Industry is the oldest cooperative with the largest membership and the most abundant supply of wood. Its apprenticeship system appears stricter than that of the other cooperatives, and its division of labor more pronounced. Sanders, stainers, refinishers, and the battery of apprentices in training are physically isolated from the carvers in a separate section of the compound. If they do not carve professionally, they may not be members of the cooperative and must pay the fee to come into the carvers' section. Once again, reflections of a traditional age-set system emerge. Only the "initiated" Kamba carvers may work in the inner circle. This pattern was less evident at the workshops in Wamunyu and Nairobi. The basic distinction between carvers and apprentices, however, is consistently maintained in each location.

The Wamunyu and Nairobi cooperatives face more severe organizational and financial problems than Changamwe. The so-called "conveyor belt" quality of much Kamba carving (cf. Graburn, 1976: 6 and 359) is more the product of trade connections than of assembly-line production. Local middlemen dictated what the carvers should make and modified their designs to meet perceived tourist demands. The appeal of a single design was exploited as fully as possible. Some carvers, however, resisted the middlemen and traveled to Nairobi to hawk their own goods. Those who stayed in Nairobi set up outdoor workshops near Gikomba market in the Pumwani section of town and tried to establish their own connections with middlemen and clients.

Like Changamwe cooperative, Wamunyu takes 30 percent of a carver's annual produce for sale, promising the carver 85 percent of the profits. Since the cooperative cannot assure sales, some carvers work in isolation from it. They maintain ties to outside middlemen while paying the cooperative membership fee. Still others defer membership and use the cooperative workshop on a temporary basis. It was commonly acknowledged that the Wamunyu cooperative had not yet developed its full financial capacity. Export orders constitute one method of boosting productivity and profits. At Changamwe, export is considered to supplement the more lucrative local sales.12 In Wamunyu, export is the chief source of collective income. While the profits benefit the cooperative as a whole, the uniform quality of export carvings is created by the work of a select cadre of more experienced carvers. The factory-like appearance of Kamba export carvings results from the concerted efforts of a few highly trained carvers. Buyers associate this distinctive appearance with the Kamba cooperatives.

Carvers who are not part of this inner circle are often unaware of the destination and uses of their products. One carver asked me eargerly: "What are these for? I have been carving napkin rings for years, but I don't see how they can be used?" One of the cooperative business managers was curious about the attitudes of foreign consumers toward the Kamaba carvings and the exact uses of cocktail picks and




napkin holders in American homes. The carvers, however, are by no means naive about the preferences of their audience. If there is a demand for napkin rings, the order is filled and a surplus is generated for the future.

The cooperative serves as much more than a place of work and a source of income. As a social unit, it is organized much like the new African churches that provide an urban or reconstituted village and a place of refuge for converts of all ages and backgrounds. The creation of work, in addition to artistic styles, is a product of the Kamba cooperatives. Older men who can no longer carve quickly are supported by the cooperative. There is a sense of familyhood that shelters these men and promotes the experienced carvers. Those who drop out of school become young apprentices. Their well-being is as important as their productivity. The very old and the young apprentices are financial burdens on the cooperatives. Nevertheless, they are protected by the cooperative. Skills and social values are passed on from the old to the young through the medium of working with wood. Expert and less experienced carvers work side by side at the cooperatives. Although the experts function as image-creators, they are under pressure to conform to the standard production schedules and styles which constitute the trademarks of the cooperatives.

SPECIALIZATION AND ARTISTRY: THE WORK OF THREE DISTINGUISHED CARVERS

Manufacture transforms social relationships and artistic ideals. The process of moving from traditional arts to manufacture involves the simplification and exaggeration of style and format. Mutisya's application of Makonde styles is a case in point. Both the cooperative and the independent middlemen pressure carvers to routinize their work procedures and standardize output.Within the cooperative environment, "star" carvers are created through the export trade. Skilled artisans who can gain recognition are featured in the publicity of the cooperative, sent on special tours, and employed as image-creators in contrast to the rest of the carvers who remain image-producers.

Jonathan Kimetu Kioko: The Star In addition to carving for export at the cooperative, Jonathan Kioko deals with

several middlemen in Nairobi. He has developed a distinctive style for his animal carvings, the lines of which are fluid and evoke an emotional tone. Rather than carving static figures, Kioko places his subjects in poses that play upon and exaggerate their features. A giraffe is carved in a seated position, with its head upturned and its neck gracefully set at an angle. The entire carving plays upon the lines of the neck and attempts to create a sense of motion and dynamism. Kioko portrays animals in an anthropomorphic way. Their eyes and expressions are almost human. In doing so, he draws upon Kamba folktales in which an animal may suddenly change from natural to human form (cf. Mbiti, 1966: 65).13

Born in 1958 in Mbaikini village near Wamunyu, Kioko began to carve as a schoolboy. He explained:




After school, I would join my friends under a village tree. I started by carving a tortoise. Then I carved giraffes, deers [i.e., antelope], and elephants. I learned by watching the others carve. I went to Wakaela Primary school. During holidays, I would spend the entire day carving. After completing grade 7, I went to Gilgil Secondary school. When I came home, I carved to earn the money for school fees. Since 1962, I have earned money from carving.

When I finished Form II, I went to Nakuru and worked a few months for a company. I didn't like that work, so I returned to Wamunyu to carve with my friends. In 1969, I came to Mombasa and joined the cooperative. From 1974 to 1980, I was secretary of the cooperative. Now I have more orders than I can complete. I sell most of my carvings to the cooperative and to the African Heritage Shop in Nairobi--you know African Heritage? They photograph my carvings and send them back with writing on each picture. [He shows a set of photographs taken at the African Heritage Shop.] Here they have told me that the legs on the elephant are too thin. The next time, I will change the elephant a little and send them as many as they want.

I am always trying new designs, like this giraffe. Most people expect to see a giraffe standing. That's why I make him sitting down, looking up at the trees. I try to vary the movements in my carvings with action.

Kioko illustrates the influence of the cooperative and the middlemen upon the aesthetics of Kamba carving. A craftsman who is firmly rooted within the cooperative is subtly coerced by his audience and by commercial considerations to maintain a narrow range of themes and styles. Thus, Kioko does not openly experiment with abstract carvings or with "extreme" studies in motion. Criticism pushes him to confine his innovations to the standard format of Kamba tourist carving, the simple animal figure in stained "mahogany." However, in Kioko's case, the ethnic and organizatonal stamp of the carvings is surpassed by the artist's originality in experimenting with new designs.

Moli Kiswili: The Only Woman One woman carves with the Wamunyu Handicraft Cooperative. In fact, she is

the only woman to be found carvng in any of the Kamba enterprises. Born in 1947 in Katheka village in Kitui district, Moli Kiswili first came to Wamunyu in 1962. Although her father was a carver, Moli did not learn to carve as a youth. She had been taught that carving was not women's work. "Most women in my village care for their children and farm. They think that carving is a man's work. You must stay in one place and work hard. They don't like that," Moli explained. She has had no formal schooling or special training and can write only her name. After the birth of her first child, she worked as a domestic in a British home. Then she held a series of odd jobs--cooking, cleaning, and selling vegetables. In 1968, she was employed by a Kamba middleman to clean his shop and refinish carvings. During her employer's absence, Moli broke a carving. Before he returned, she attempted to repair the damage by retouching the hand. "Then I knew that I could carve," Moli said. Apparently, Moli's boss was not satisfied with what he saw. She was fired. Desperate for work after the birth of two more children, Moli went to Mombasa and began to hawk carvings. She sold unfinished works to African and to Asian dealers. One carver left her with some old style "Masai." He asked Moli to fill in the details, refinish the carvings, and sell them for him. She did so and once again was confident that she




could carve. She began to carve Masai and Turkana heads on her own. When I asked her if she felt that she served as an example for other women in

the area, Moli replied: "Definitely not! Most of them don't understand what I am doing here." Moli also feels alienated from some of the men. Her work process is much slower than theirs.

I like to put emotions into my figures. I carve slowly, mostly people. I'm a specialist in human figures. You see this Masai couple. I like to show the feelings betwen the husband and the wife and the expressions on their faces.

Moli admits that she spends a great deal of time on the details of her carvings-- the texture of the hair, the position of the hands, and the shape of the mouth to fill in the details. She takes the pieces that are not sold at the cooperative to an Asian dealer in Nairobi. Moli feels that she will increase the repertoire of her carvings and her overall expertise in the years to come. At the close of her interview, she stated:

I will never leave carving. I know no other course. Only carving. I plan to get more money with my carvings and buy another piece of land where I will farm and build a house so that I can retire. I will always carve--until I am too old and can no longer see!

While Moli is determined, she will always be marginal to the operations of the cooperative. Moli's marginality allows her to develop a distinctive work style at her own pace. Her experimentation with figurative styles and emotional expression has already won her acclaim. Although Moli is not promoted as an export "star" at the cooperative, she is regarded as a novelty. Her story is well known across the Kamba cooperatives, and she has earned the respect of her colleagues as a skilled artisan.

Safari Mbai: The Artist-Sculptor Across from the central warehouses of Nairobi Handicraft is a small, cramped

room. It serves as the workshop for the Africa Arts Gallery run by Safari Mbai and his partner, Joseph Mulii. Safari was born in 1950 in Kyangulumi village, Wamunyu location. Safari attended Mbaikini Primary school and completed Form II at Mwala Secondary school in Machakos district. His father, Mutungi, became a carver after serving in the Kings Rifles. Safari recounts that he initially learned to carve by imitating his father:

When I was seven years old, I used to sit under a tree at my father's feet. I watched him carve and began to copy him. His carving quality was poor. I learned that type of carving--lions, elephants, antelopes, old Masai, and Turkana. As my work became better, I began to change my carving of humans. About seven years ago, I developed a unique style. Now I am a popular artist. We are all popular artists here. I used to carve six pieces a day, doing a donkey horse's work. Now I take a week or a month, depending on the style of the item.

Safari uses the Nairobi cooperative chiefly as a source of wood and community contacts. He is extremely critical of the lack of initiative and creativity among the cooperative's carvers. Safari attributes the problem to their level of expertise and to




the social and commercial constraints of the cooperative. His criticism extends to himself and his student-apprentices. He regards his work as a school and atelier and makes a constant effort to innovate new designs and experiment with modified carving formats.

Safari draws a clear distinction between the style and content of carving:

The Masai are popular to tourists because they are still in the original person, the way of dressing and so forth, the way of dancing. They are traditionally as they have been--before civilized institutions changed. The Samburu people are serious about their customs. Tourists are interested because they can see the topic they have come to see.... Because they don't want to see me in a tie. That they can see in their own country. They also want to to see animals, especially the elephant and most of the animals that are not available in their country.... If they have seen the homes of the Masai, the ritual dancing, then they take the carvings of such a tribe as a souvenir when they go back and say: "We have seen the Masai. They are doing this and that and this is a souvenir carving of such a type of thing."

Safari, however, is not content to remain at the level of souvenir carving. The curio format is the vehicle through which he expresses studies in motion and form. He continued: "In carving, I try to imitate life. Real life. Not just a static figure sitting, but a figure like this Masai carving, showing life by doing something." By selling exclusively to the Africa Arts Gallery, he assures that his carvings will stay out of the "street" trade and attain the degree of visibility that he considers appropriate. In both the style and marketing of his work, Safari has broken away from conventional cooperative procedures and contacts. Safari was explicit about his disillusionment with cooperative business ventures:

I have about 16 years of experience with carving. I began by making miniatures with my father and taught myself in less than a year how to make bigger animals in different styles than my father ever carved. I feel that I taught myself something that no one else showed me, that no one thought of before.... For three years, I was the director of a company of carvers formed in Wamunyu. At the end of the third year of directorship, I resigned. I spent four hours a day in an office when I was not representing the firm for sales or purchasing material for carving. I found that hundreds can be directors and make money from art, but only few can be geniune artists. I don't like to take part in a low class, I mean a common class, of carving. I don't want to be an employee oppossum who waits for Saturday. Whether I have money or not, I will continue to improve my carving.

Safari has incorporated the procedures of craft manufacture into his work. He attempts, however, to elevate his carving to the level of "artistic sculpture" through innovations in style and design. In Safari's view, close ties to the cooperative are an impediment to creativity. Even more boldly than Jonathan Kioko, he has rebelled against the structure of an organization which, in some ways, made his artistry become a commercial reality.




CHALLENGING THE CONVEYOR-BELT FALLACY: MARKET SETTINGS, QUALITY CONTROL, AND

ETHNOAESTHETICS IN TOURIST ART

The Kamba case suggests that the carvers self-consciously establish and modify explicit technical standards and aesthetic conventions for their carvings. Although commercialization has a leveling effect, it is not the sole factor leading to the production of an occasional "unimaginative" carving. Rather, once the artist is technically proficient, he generates new aesthetic standards through interaction with his colleagues and the commercial milieu. Many of the Kamba carvers pursue goals of self-improvement through increasing the range and diversity of their work. However, once they reach a plateau at which they are satisfied with the balance between profit and innovation, some carvers simply remain there. This development resembles the frozen level of technology that I have analyzed elsewhere for cottage industry enterprises (cf. Jules-Rosette, 1979: 225-38).

If innovation is rewarded, as it has been in the case studies above, the artist is stimulated to experiment further. If innovation fails, however, the carver falls back upon a familiar and easy routine. As we have seen, the cooperative unit provides limited support for innovation. When a large export order is to be met, the workers carve what is demanded. Clearly, the order influences the cooperative's conceptions of what is popular and marketable. Commercial demand, in this case, is the touchstone for artistic acceptance. If a carver can make familiar items and sell them regularly, he gains fuller acceptance and his work is promoted within the cooperative.

The sobering challenges facing Kamba cooperatives are organizational, economic, and symbolic. The image-creators, the middlemen, and the consumers are locked together in an unbroken chain. In the changing social milieu of the craft cooperative, the aesthetics of sculpture and the commercializaiton of production are inseparable issues that each carver confronts daily and inevitably reconciles in his or her own way. A combination of the social bases of art and the producer's originality make a work distinctive. In the cooperative setting, the skilled carvers tend to experience a tension between the production requirements and styles fostered by the collective unit and individual innovations. Nevertheless, these innovations occur within the framework of Kamba carving. They are influenced by the social organization, stylistic mandates, and production demands of the cooperative.

When the Kamba case is compared with the artists' workshops of the Ivory Coast and Zambia, it becomes clear that market receptivity influences the artists' definitions of their work. This influence, however, is indirect. The artists state that they produce for the consumers. Yet, they are not fully aware of the extent and composition of the consumer audience. In the case, for example, of the new figuratist painters, the audience consists of at least four social sectors: the African elite, foreign collectors and their gallery outlets, the local proletariat, and a host of middlemen who mediate between these audiences. As we have seen in the case of Kamba carving, the middlemen may directly modify artists' designs for the perceived audience of vendors.

To say that the production of tourist art is a communicative act does not mean that its origins and intent are unambiguous. The production of tourist art is a cultural "formulation." As a symbolic expression, tourist art may be analyzed in




terms of the concept of "doing" elaborated by Garfinkel and Sacks (1970: 352-54). Each artwork "says" something to the audience, and each product adheres to the "ethnoaesthetic" categories of its producers. The producers in turn appy explicit standards of quality control, such as those explicated by Safari Mbai. For both producers and consumers, the tourist art object may serve as a visual marker for sights, events, or other cultural themes (cf. MacCannell, 1976: 124). Nevertheless, the composition of the tourist art audience is not uniform, constant, or fully known to the artist.

As in all art, the motives of the tourist artist's frequently disappear or are transformed once the art object is received by consumers. Moreover, the artwork encodes meanings and events on several levels at once. For example, the colonie belge genre of Zairian paintings described by Szombati-Fabian and Fabian (1976: 7- 21) make sociopolitical statements about the colonial and post-colonial situations in Zaire as perceived by a contemporary audience. The Fabians apply Roland Barthes' (1976: 48-50) model of expression, relationship, and content (ERC) as a method for understanding these paintings as communicative acts with meanings that shift in reference to the context in which they appear.14 This semiotic approach only partially uncovers the multivocality of tourist art objects because it excludes the impact and the interpretive role of consumers.

CONCLUSION

The "perceived" demand for particular genres and styles pushes the artists to reproduce them. Although it is possible to analyze tourist artistry in purely symbolic or "semiotic" terms without explicit reference to the artists and the audience, such an approach bypasses the process through which the art objects are deciphered and reinterpreted in different contexts and at specific historical moments. A variety of contextual referents are collapsed into a single tourist art object or visual marker. Here, it has been argued that the tourist art market as an ecosystem mediates between the intended meaning of the tourist art object and what Jauss (1970: 8) has termed the "norm setting" function of the aesthetics of reception.

The artists are aware of this mediation process when they respond to perceived consumer demand. This process was aptly summarized by Diouf, one of the leading new figuratist painters in Lusaka, when he stated:

Do we produce only for the Europeans? No, we produce for the Africans. But if we produce for the Africans, we have to produce something that they will understand.... Granted, it's the Europeans who buy our art. But we don't produce for the Europeans. We want our own people to understand what we produce. But that's a delicate problem.

Sociologically the question of tourist art as a form of communication is even more complex than Diouf has suggested because of the multivocal character of tourist art objects and the markets in which they circulate. Through symbols of change, tourist art boldly asserts new cultural syntheses and meanings. In short, it is a reaffirming and positive form of cultural expression. But tourist art is also a protean and mutable cultural expression that projects ambiguities and contradictions




in its very combination of the universal appeal of classic formulas with contemporary artistic themes.

Tourist artists such as Kenya's Kamba carvers have generated new types of economic and symbolic exchange. If their artistry is examined in terms of the various ways in which the consumer connection influences styles and quality control, a new appreciation of tourist art based upon an "aesthetics" of communication rather than a typology of cultural and idiosyncratic tastes will emerge. In the future, tourist art will be likely to constitute a significant reflection of the interface between local African markets and the world economy. More significantly, it will also become an important and perhaps lasting record of cultural transformation in twentieth century Africa.

NOTES

1. Lang and Williams (1972: 1-17), for example, present a Marxist interpretation of aesthetics and touch upon Sino-Soviet realism as one school for interpreting the themes and content of contemporary artworks. In this case and others, adherence to the canons of a dominant art school is treated as a major criterion for aesthetic evaluation.

2. It is important to note that Goldwater's (1964: 119-20) analysis of tourist art goes beyond this point to emphasize the competing presence of skillful craftsmanship and inovation in the new arts despite their tendency to violate customary aesthetic canons and sociocultural values.

3. In his analysis of industrialization in Great Britain, E. J. Hobsbawm (1968: 53 and 54) emphasizes the independent craftsman's transition from journeyman to factory worker. Although the differences between the European and African situation are critical, the position of the craftsman in each case is essential to understanding the social consequences of technological change. Karl Marx (1967: 337-61) referred to the era from the mid-16th century to the late 18th century as the "period of manufacture" characterized by the formation of the large craft workshops that preceded industrial change in Europe.

4. Here, I am collapsing Nelson Graburn's (1976: 7 and 8) distinction between souvenir and popular arts into a single category. This reclassification is empirically justified by the fact that many tourist artists produce simultaneously in different genres for distinctive tourist art markets.

5. Mary Douglas (1958: 115) emphasizes that raffia cloth is bartered for other commodities in exchanges with groups outside of Lele society. In most exchanges, raffia, rather than paper money, is the commodity of value. More broadly speaking, money has limited usefulness within the Lele economic system except as a promissory commitment for future raffia exchanges.

6. Cf. Jules-Rosette (1979: 21-23). Visual metaphors are used to make social and political statements indirectly in tourist and popular paintings and carvings. In carving, the intent of these symbolic communications often emerges more clearly when the art object is considered with reference to the social context in which it is produced and sold.

7. Eugene Cooper (1980: 97-105) notes similar networks among producers and middlemen in the Hong Kong art-carved furniture market. He analyzes the flow of merchandise from one company to another with certain companies serving as primary local producers and key export brokers. In the case of the Lusaka




painters' circle, I contrast paintings produced for various subsectors of the local market with works intended for gallery sale and eventual international trade.

8. Roger Fouquer (1975: 31-32) suggests that the shetani carvings represent a vital force that links the living and the dead, the natural and the spirit worlds. He considers these carvings to be deeply rooted in Makonde religious traditions in spite of the recent variations in their format and representation. The term binadamu is derived from the Swahili phrase meaning "son of Adam" or a human

figure. It is now commonly used with reference to both Makonde and Kamba

carvings. 9. The religious significance of the shetani carvings has been modified by

individual carvers who have developed pieces for commercial sale. Nevertheless, Fouquer (1975: 54-60) maintains that their original symbolic meanings have not disappeared on the contemporary scene.

10. Middleton and Kershaw (1965: 68) quote 1948 Kenyan census figures as listing a

population of 7,829 Kamba in Nairobi and 5,137 Kamba in the Mombasa area.

By the 1950s there were evidently enough men to constitute a large and visible community of carvers in Mombasa.

11. The Kenyan Development Plan for the Period 1970-1974, p. 121 cites Kenyanization of the economy as an immediate goal. Shortages of local manpower are noted in various fields including engineering, architecture, health care delivery, and the arts. Apparently, local and informal initiatives in the arts were not considered to have a significant impact upon the development plan.

12. An article entitled "Carving A Name for Themselves" appearing in the Nairobi Standard (22 July, 1981) listed the income earned from export sales at Changamwe in 1980 as 321,000 Kenyan shillings (U. S. $37,764). Export sales in 1979 and 1980 accounted for approximately 15% of Changamwe's total income. Export sales at Wamunyu generated approximately 35% of the cooperative's income in 1980.

13. Mbiti (1966) analyzes a series of customary Kamba folk stories which feature the witty hare, a frightening lion, the hyena, and various other animal personages. He notes (1966: 65) that the characters in the folk tales often transform suddenly from animal to human form, often to illustrate a didactic or moral point. Similarly, the carvers often represent animals in an anthropomorphic manner.

14. Barthes (1967: 48-54) develops the expression, relation, content model. At each new "plane" of expression, a new set of sign relationships can be traced. When applied to tourist art, this approach suggests the multiple levels at which a single expression or object may be interpreted.

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aesthetics and market demand the structure of the tourist art market in three african

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