BY PHIL FITZPATRICK
Grandfather’s treasures may be hidden
Yet thru a new eye must I ever peek
For glimpses my days have forbidden
-- My Father’s Bilum by Jeffrey Febi
‘Living Spirits with Fixed Abodes: The Masterpieces Exhibition’, Papua New Guinea National Museum and Art Gallery by Barry Craig, Mark Busse and Soroi Eoe is published by Crawford House Publishing Australia. It costs $89.95. Check the website www.crawfordhouse.com.au to order a copy.
THE NATIONAL MUSEUM AND ART GALLERY of Papua New Guinea has a multitude of roles. It keeps and conserves cultural, historical and natural collections, carries out research, educates the public through exhibitions and publications and enforces cultural heritage legislation.
While Living Spirits with Fixed Abodes discusses these multitudinous roles the bulk of the book is taken up with a catalogue of the 209 cultural artefacts in The Masterpieces Exhibition on display in the public gallery. In this it is highly successful; the minutiae surrounding each item are fascinating.
Barry Craig is the editor and, even though he graciously acknowledges help from many sources, this is really his book. He has done the hard yards and his contributions take up well over 80% of the text.
The book is very handsome with a beautiful layout and is a credit to the publisher, Crawford House.
Unfortunately, it is also a relatively expensive book, retailing at around $90 or K180, which very few ordinary Papua New Guineans could afford. This fact prompted me to wonder about the cultural elitism which surrounds the business of collecting indigenous artefacts.
Never having been an avid collector of artefacts, I’ve often wondered what motivates the zealous collectors of the world. It all seems to work one way: Europeans collecting indigenous things. I’ve yet to stumble across a tribesman in the jungle hoarding a cache of old and obsolete European stuff.
The idea of collecting or salvaging artefacts from rapidly changing and/or ‘dying’ culture is a recurring theme in the history of many museums, including the one in Port Moresby.
While this aim might be laudable it begs the question of how it can be possible to represent such a vast array of cultural diversity in one collection in one building. Is that possible, even in a representative sense?
Barry Craig notes that artefacts from the Sepik make up about a quarter of the museum’s collection. There also seems to be a heavy bias towards New Guinea; Papua doesn’t get much of a look in.
In the discussion about watercraft, for instance, the magnificent Gogodala carved and painted racing canoes of Western province score a photograph and a passing reference but no discussion; they do get a short run under Gardening and Fertility Figures however.
In this sense, anyone looking for a representative survey of Papua New Guinean cultural artefacts should perhaps look elsewhere. It is a decidedly geographically patchy collection which is really a drop in the bucket of a vast cultural tradition. That said the authors do an admirable job working with what they’ve got, which is, after all, the intent of the book.
The museum harks back to the 1950s and the bulk of the collections until well after independence in 1975 came from Europeans. While Michael Somare is and was enthusiastic it’s hard to know what the average Papua New Guinean feels about the museum.
Of late there has been a debate going on in Papua New Guinea, mostly on the blogosphere, about things that the Australian colonisers left behind.
The argument runs to the effect that the leaders of the country and the educated elite in particular have inherited a colonial mindset and are maintaining what many see as wholly unsuitable institutions. It is interesting to speculate where the National Museum and Art Gallery and in particular its artefact collections fit into this equation.
Soroi Marepo Eoe says in his chapter, “For many Pacific peoples, dead should be buried; certain artefacts should be destroyed after they have been used in ceremonies. Museums in the Pacific still are seen today as a foreign, unfamiliar concept”.
We are told in the book that the artefacts are not just old pieces of carved wood decorated with paint and shells but are the embodiment of actual spirits. This is where the title comes from, with the phrase being attributed to Michael Somare.
Papua New Guineans undoubtedly understand how an artefact might be regarded as a spirit-incarnate in its original setting but they must wonder why it is necessary to lock up all these disparate spirits from all over the place in a single building.
Think of the chaos such a mixed spiritual crowd represents, no one in their right mind would step into such a place they might think.
Indeed, the exhibits in the gallery, as well as in the book, are quite spooky, especially with the selective lighting. The Papua New Guinean staff in the museum must have nerves of steel. It might take a few more generations before the average Papua New Guinean feels comfortable in there.
A few years ago I went to the museum on Rarotonga in the Cook Islands. There was very little of a cultural nature there. The most impressive item was a large bass drum made out of local materials but copied from the British version. It was made to accompany islanders marching into church services.
When I enquired about items of a more traditional nature I was politely informed by the friendly staff that the early missionaries had destroyed it all; either that or it had long ago been carted away by European collectors. I’ve visited other museums in the South Pacific and seen much the same thing.
Ironically, the staff of these museums seemed more relieved than sad at the dearth of any representative local artefact collection. I’ve asked people about this in other places and have come to the conclusion that for many South Pacific communities’ museums full of primitive art is more of an embarrassment than pride. This is understandable I guess; who wants to be reminded in this modern day and age, that one’s forbears used to live without steel or wheels.
Late last year we were reading about the battle of wills going on at the museum over access to the cheque books. At the same time we were also learning about the appalling neglect of the institution by a seemingly uncaring government. A building so poorly maintained that on more days than not its doors were closed, the power off and the telephones silent.
We shrugged. It was simply just another microcosm of the greed and neglect that is mirrored in similar institutions all over the country.
What we didn’t read about at the time was what was behind those doors, the raison d’etre for the building being there in the first place. This book answers that question, at least in part and in style.
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