These reflect the contradictory nature of imperialist modernity itself, which relied heavily on the construction of the antimodern. The latter could be read into discourses about the “primitive other,” but also into the “authenticity” of that other which “functioned as the critical opposite to modernity’s fragmented world.”7 By appropriating the material culture of the “other” into the discourse about colonial modernism—but also into the colony’s cultural economy—the colonizer created the circumstances necessary to sustain the colonial system This process, I will argue, was particularly important to the construction of cultural guardianship that marked Belgian late-colonial politics.
The category of “crafts” or artisanat was much more often invoked than “art” was by those interested and involved in artistic life in the colony. As a concept, “crafts” fits neither the art nor the ethnographic artifact category. Although they were commodities, crafts could be aesthetically valued and their production was associated with the artistic sphere. Although threatened by commercialization, they were connected to pre-modern, “authentic” life.8 Interestingly, it was not uncommon for the Belgians in this chapter to believe that the re-emergence of a “true art” could be coaxed out of the artisanal scene, under the proper Western supervision.
THE EMERGENCE OF COLONIAL CULTURAL POLITICS IN THE 1930s
In the 1930s, institutional frameworks and organizations emerged that dealt specifically with arts and crafts in the colony. One of the most important of these was the Commission for the Protection of Indigenous Arts and Crafts (Commission pour la Protection des Arts et Métiers Indigènes, COPAMI), created by the colonial ministry. Its official task was “to study and research all matters related to the protection, re-creation and advancement of indigenous arts and crafts [and] make suggestions on the subject to the minister of Colonies.”9 The commission resided in Belgium, and its members were a mix of former high-level colonial administrators, artists, academics (mostly museum curators and art historians), former missionaries to the Congo, and staff from the colonial office in Brussels. COPAMI’s role was only advisory, and it tended to function as a lobby. Its unofficial influence was at times considerable because of its members’ social positions and backgrounds. It was the hope and ambition of the founding members of COPAMI that, eventually, a department of arts and crafts, or even a department of fine arts, could be institutionalized within the colonial government.10 The driving force behind COPAMI was Gaston-Denys Périer (1895–1962), an employee of the Ministry of Colonies in Brussels with a great admiration for avant-garde artists such as Apollinaire and Picasso, who stirred his interest in African art, in which he discovered the “irresistible draw” of Africa, the “soul of a faraway and unrecognized humanity.”11 Despite his progressive opinions on the artistic culture of Congolese subjects, his views were firmly entrenched, as he was himself, in the colonial project; he believed in the value of the protection and development of cultural life in the Congo as a part of Belgium’s mission.12
By the mid-1930s such ideas were increasingly popular. A more inclusive and long-term understanding of the responsibilities of the Belgian state as a colonial power was gaining ground. The interest in these matters also grew among the colonials, the number of which increased slowly with the growth of the colonial system in the colony. A number of the new arrivals had become increasingly concerned with the state of local traditional cultures and their perceived decline with exposure to the West.13 By founding the Friends of Indigenous Art (Amis de l’Art Indigène, or AAI), a group of these colonials aspired to create museums in the colony in the interest of preserving traditions and inspiring Congolese artisans to produce “authentic” material. Organized into regional committees, of which the Leopoldville and Katanga branches were the most active, AAI was less centralized than COPAMI, but as opposed to the latter, it was based in the colony itself, far from Brussels, the center of power in colonial politics.
Despite overlapping interests, COPAMI and AAI had a tense relationship that was an expression of the general tension that existed between the colonial government in Brussels and its representatives in Congo. The members of COPAMI thought many AAI members were loose cannons who lacked an academic understanding of the situations in which they worked. This deeply offended many AAI members, who felt their hands-on knowledge was far more relevant than COPAMI members allowed. Another significant difference between the two organizations was that AAI included some Congolese members while COPAMI had none, since its members deemed “few Congolese qualified owing to a lack of education in ‘artistic life.’”14
In the first few years of its existence, COPAMI focused on lobbying the government for new legislation to protect the “sites, monuments and indigenous arts” of the colony. Signed into law in 1939, the legislation provided the legal framework for the selection and protection of an official heritage that included archaeological sites, buildings and monuments, and, theoretically, museum collections.15 Although the legislation was largely aimed at protecting sites and monuments from the early colonial era, COPAMI used it as a starting point, creating an ambitious agenda that included initiatives to protect the remnants of past artistic traditions in the colony, the centralization of the sale of artisanal crafts, the organization of artisans into workshops and cooperatives, and the protection of environments conducive to high-quality artisanal production. In addition, it aspired to evaluate all existing art education in the colony.16
AAI branches around the colony created small museums with mostly ethnographic and some archeological collections. One of those was the Musée de la Vie Indigène (MVI) or Museum of Indigenous Life, in Leopoldville, which first opened its doors on March 14, 1936. The product of the efforts of the artist and author Jeanne Maquet-Tombu and Adrien Vanden Bossche, with the support of the local government and UTexLéo (one of the largest textile companies in Leopoldville), the MVI included an exhibition space, a library, a museum shop, and a workshop for educating artisans.17 The seven thousand objects that filled the museum’s storerooms and displays were largely collected by the handful of individuals associated with its creation, although donations from colonial administrators returning to the capital from their posts in the interior soon formed an important contribution.18
Governor-General Pierre Ryckmans expected the Congolese to be “deeply grateful for our conservation of the vestiges of their past life.”19 “The talented Negro will be guided to the museum in order to look for inspiration,” the AAI hoped.20 Clearly, the AAI not only envisioned educating both Belgians and Congolese in the value of traditional culture but also hoped the Congolese population would one day thank them for their conservation efforts.
The various rooms were organized according to colonial administrative units with some level of ethnic divisions. Shelves were brimming with ranks of statues and more utilitarian material such as pots, knives, and weapons. The only objects that were more or less consistently grouped together were of Kuba origin. No distinction was made between material of an ethnographic, archaeological, or artistic nature, nor was there any indication of the materials’ function or elaboration on the items’ historical or ethnic background.21
The Museum of Indigenous Life was not the only museum in the colony by the 1930s. In addition to a number of missionary collections on display and small, often short-lived museum initiatives by regional AAI branches, there was also the Leopold II museum in Elisabethville, the capital of the Katanga mining region.22 The museum had its origin in the personal collection of archeological material of Francis Cabu, an employee of the National Institute for Agronomical Studies and Research, in Katanga. At first he opened up his living room as an exposition space, but soon the collection began a long journey through a variety of locales and gradually included more than prehistoric and archaeological artifacts.23 Colonial officials brought the museum artifacts from their respective administrative units. The legal authorities in Elisabethville also donated the “fetishes and medicinal objects” they confiscated during raids on “sects” prohibited by the colonial government.24 Although it amassed a decent collection of ethnographic material, the museum’s strengths remained
