Magazines - Tribal Art Summer 2008

(Introduction to the article by Jonathan Fogel)

Ever since Europeans first encountered it in 1722, Easter Island––Rapa Nui, as it is more properly known––has been as much as concept as a location in Western minds, a concept that evokes mystery and smacks of the supernatural. The convoluted history of the people in this obscure corner of Polynesia, the towering stone moai heads they created over the course of centuries, their indecipherable writing system, and their remarkable traditions of sculptural arts are all better understood now than they were when the expedition of Dutch Admiral Jacob Roggeveen first spent a single day there, but that does not prevent popular associations from being perpetuated that range from the magical to the absurd.
In June and July of this year, an outstanding exhibition of wood sculpture from Easter Island took place on the other side of the world in another vortex of mystery and power. 60 Objects d l'Ile de Pâques was held at the venerable Galerie Louise Leiris in Paris fron June 4–July 31, and the installation, which filled the entire gallery space, presented a nearly encyclopedic selection of the scope of Rapa Nui wood sculpture. Nineteen of the various kinds of anthropomorphic sculptures in wood known variously as moai kavakava, moai tangata, moai papa,and moai vie stood together in a case that faced eight examples of the dance paddles known as rapa. The transitional lizard-like tangata moko and moko miro faced off against an unparalleled collection of tahonga, or gourd-shaped pendants, one surmounted by a pair of heads in opposition. Another, in the form of a head, is a piece so rare as to be unique. Koau rongorongo (the mysterious writing tablets), long clubs with conjoined heads known as ua and an example of their shorter hand club cousin paoa, crescent-shaped pectorals called reimiro, and oversized rapa forms referred to as ao made up the rest of the sculpted wood objects. A fiber and feather ring, hau kurakura, and a trio of small obsidian objects, mata, were thrown in for good measure.
This was a gallery installation that any museum would have been envious of. Paralleling the unlikely nature of Easter Island itself, this show represented the intersection of two historical trajectories that could hardly be more different or their union less likely. It was composed of twenty-nine objects from the gallery's own collection and thirty-one from that of the Congregation of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary in Rome. None of the material was offered for sale, but it was a unique opportunity to show these two unusual collections under one roof and for visitors to muse over their extremely different backgrounds. What is known of the history of Easter Island and the meanings of its few objects that have survived has been the subject of many publications, but how these two collections came into being is a story that is not well documented.