Accordingly, this statue of Sango has a "sight-and-sound" dimension that further deepens the metaphoric meanings of aworan. It may be classified under what W.J.T. Mitchell calls the "imagetext"--an inextricable weaving together of representation and discourse," so that the visible becomes readable, (101) and audible. Contrary to expectations, Sango looks quiet and serene in the statue; the horse is motionless. This manner of representation is part of a complex aesthetic strategy aimed at dissuading Sango from violent eruptions; it is an exercise in "latent ambiguity," underscoring the fact that an artistic representation can hardly do justice to the kinetics of the thunderstorm: the latter is better experienced than represented. The image falls into the category of what Philip Wheelwright calls the "intensive symbol," which conceals and reveals at the same time. (102)
One other important Yoruba tradition of memorial figure is the ere ibeji, a statuette dedicated to a dead twin (Fig. 19). Underlying the practice is the notion that while twins are physically double, they are spiritually one, and thus inseparable. If one of them should die, a statuette is made to localize the soul of the deceased. It is usually kept in a safe place in the house and sometimes given to the surviving twin to play with as if it were a doll, the main objective being to use the statuette to maintain the spiritual bond between the living and the dead. The statuette, made to reflect the gender of the deceased child, is normally commissioned from a carver on the recommendation of a diviner. When completed, the statuette is washed in herbal preparations before being handed over to the diviner, who then invokes the soul of the deceased twin into it. Thereafter, the statuette is treated like a living child, being fed symbolically at the same time as the surviving twin is having its food. If a new dress i s bought for the surviving child, a miniature is acquired for the statuette. The one held by this woman represents her deceased twin brother, who reportedly died about 1895, after which the memorial was carved. (103) The picture was taken in the early 1960s. The smallness of the statue--and twin memorials in general--is both symbolic and functional: on the one hand, it reflects the fact that, in the past, a good majority of the twins died in infancy; on the other, the small size facilitates portability, especially when the statuette is given to the surviving twin to play with or when the mother dances with it in honor of the deceased twin. If both twins should die, another statuette is commissioned, and the two are treated like living children in the hope that they will be born again to the same mother (Fig. 20). (104) Tradition requires the carver to give both statuettes the same facial features to emphasize the oneness in their twoness, even if the deceased twins were not identical. The statuettes are usual ly placed in a shrine (Fig. 23) for contacting the souls of the departed twins in the Afterlife. The belief that they are capable of attracting good fortune to their parents is reflected in the following oriki (eulogy) of twins:
...The intimate two, the royal egrets, the natives of Isokun (105)
Offspring of the colobus monkey of the tree tops.... (106)
The intimate two by-passed the house [womb] of the wealthy
By-passed the house [womb] of the rich and famous....
But entered the house [womb] of the poor
Transforming the poor into a rich person.... (107)
Apepa [sorcery] cannot affect the natives of Isokun....
Both wizards and witches pay homage to the intimate two.... (108)
Ojo a ku la a d'ere: Portraiture, Posthumous Beauty, and Social Identity
The tradition of dedicating shrine figures to the dead is said to date back to an "Edenic" period in Yoruba history called igba iwase (literally, beginnings of existence), when human beings reportedly did not die as they do today. Whenever the physical body became too old or weak to sustain the soul within it, all an individual needed to do was to enter a cave that led to heaven, where the soul would reincarnate in a new body and then come back to resume earthly life. (109) Whoever was tired of living on earth returned to heaven through the cave. Newly embodied souls entered the earth through the same cave. Some powerful figures did not depart the normal way; they simply turned into stone figures. (110) This is called didi ota (the art of becoming stones). According to J. A. Ademakinwa, an indigene of Ife, where many ancient stone figures abound, such a person, prior to death, would commission a portrait that would be hidden in a place known only to a few close friends. It was these friends who secretly burie d the deceased and later announced to the general public that a well-known personality had turned into stone, disclosing where the effigy had been hidden, which would then be set up as a shrine to perpetuate the memory of the deceased. (111) One such stone dated to the early part of the second millennium C.E. (Fig. 21) is said to commemorate Idena, a famous hunter and one of the bodyguards of Oreluere, the custodian of indigenous traditions and domestic morality in ancient Ife, who reportedly teamed up with Obatala to challenge Oduduwa after the latter had usurped the throne. (112) Before being transferred to the Nigerian National Museum in Lagos, the statue stood at the entrance of the Oreluere shrine at Ife, the spot where Idena allegedly turned into stone.
The legend that the ancient ones did not die but turned into stones resonates in the popular Yoruba saying "Ojo a ku la a d'ere, eniyan ko sunwon laaye" (It is death that turns an individual into a beautiful sculpture; a living person has blemishes). (113) In other words, a person's earthly existence begins as a piece of sculpture molded by Obatala and ends with the separation of the empirical self from its meta-empirical Other; the human body becomes a corpse, reverting, as it were, to what it was originally--an ere (sculpture). The phrase "a living person has blemishes" bespeaks the Yoruba tendency to canonize the dead. Their code of ethics demands that a loss of life be mourned, regardless of an individual's foibles before death; even former critics, enemies, and detractors are expected to pay the proverbial last respects to the deceased. Similarly, an artist is obliged to honor the dead with a well carved memorial, and he frequently makes the subject look younger. As Mosudi Olatunji, the famous Imeko carv er, told Robert Farris Thompson in the early 1960s:
If I am carving the face of a senior devotee I must carve him at the time he was in his prime. Why? If I make the image resemble an old man the people will not like it. I will not be able to sell the image. One carves as if they were young men or women to attract people. (114)
So it is that twin memorials (ere ibeji) are often carved to recall people in their prime (Figs. 19, 20), notwithstanding the fact that a good majority of twins died in infancy. (115) If naturalism (ayajora) is required, as in the life-size brass heads from Ife (Figs. 13, 14) or in second-burial ako effigies (Figs. 7-10), the artist idealizes the portrait, transforming it into an ere (sculpture) and emphasizing composure while ignoring accidental facial features such as scars and deformities associated with iwa physical existence. As Rowland Abiodun points out, "The deceased person may have lost an eye, ear or even a few fingers during his life, but the [ako] effigy allows for a reconstruction of these parts." (116) Thus, death transforms the ugly into the beautiful; "a living person has blemishes." A memorial destined for the altar may be criticized while in the workshop of the carver, but once consecrated and placed on an altar, it is no longer criticized because it partakes of the sacredness and spiritual beauty associated with the dead. (117) Thereafter, the focus is on its ritual rather than formal values.
In the past, many Yoruba wore permanent face marks that identified them with particular families, lineages, or subethnic groups. (118) The same marks adorn the faces of secondburial statues, altar memorials, and ancestral masks, thus relating the living to the dead and the human to the divine. (119) As Frank Willett aptly observes, "It is indeed one of the surprises of living in Yorubaland that one does frequently see people whose features remind one very forcibly of a particular sculptural style, yet the sculptures are not portraits of individuals, but they are supposed to look as if they might be." (120) In short, the Yoruba style, particularly in woodcarving, combines the generic with the specific, relating the individual to the collective, stressing "social identity" and thereby epitomizing the quest for unity underlying the Omo oduduwa concept. This quest finds its most popular political expression in the image of the oba (king), the temporal and spiritual head of a given community and a personification of its corporate existence. In the past, the king seldom left his palace except on special occasions, and when he did, he usually wore a beaded crown with veil that partly concealed his face (Fig. 22). However, this tradition has since been modified, so that the king appears more frequently in public today without donning the crown, doing so only on certain ceremonial occasions. Most crowns have a stylized face in the front that serves as the king's official face. The same face (or a similar face--should a new king decide to replace an old crown) identified his predecessors in public and will do the same for his successors. This face, commonly identified with Oduduwa, transforms the king into a masked figure--an icon conjuring up the image of the mythical progenitor, functioning as a paradigm of the oneness of the king and his subjects, on the one hand, and of the reigning king and the royal dead, on the other. (121)
Itunra'nite: Is Obatala a Self-Reflection of the Yoruba Artist?
According to Yoruba cosmology, the decision of Olodumare (Supreme Being) to create humans was prompted by a desire to transform the primeval wilderness below the sky into an orderly estate. Human beings are called eniyan (the specially selected) because, as a divination verse puts it, they are the ones ordained "to convey goodness" to the wilderness below the sky. (122) In other words, divinity abides in humanity, and vice versa. It is therefore not surprising that some of the orisa (deities) allegedly assumed human forms in order to accompany the first humans to the earth--which easily accounts for their personification in shrine sculptures and spirit medium-ship. Ogun, the iron deity, led the way, using his machete to cut a path through the primeval jungle, laying the foundation for Yoruba civilization. (123) The popular name Ogunlana (Ogun paves the way) commemorates this archetypal event, emphasizing the importance (first) of stone and (later) of iron tools in agriculture, urban planning, lumbering, archi tecture, warfare, and art. (124) We are also reminded of Ogun's vital contributions to the human image molded by Obatala, detailing the face and "cutting open" the eyes later activated by Esu. The resultant image--a "masterpiece"--embodies a special ase (transformatory power), inspiring and sustaining the creativity manifested in the visual and performing arts and enabling the Yoruba collective to continually redesign its environment as well as to re-present itself through body adornments and idealized or conventionalized portraiture. As one divination verse remarks:
If I am created, I will re-create myself
I will observe all the taboos
Having been created, I shall now re-create myself. (125)
Three major questions remain, however. Since the creativity deity Obatala also assumed an anthropomorphic form in order to accompany the first humans to the earth, was the archetypal human image a self-portrait? Or was Obatala originally a mortal who once lived in ancient Ife and was deified as an orisa for his phenomenal creative endowment? Or was he a figment of the imagination and a self-reflection of the Yoruba artist? That Obatala was a deified culture hero, if not a self-reflection of the Yoruba artist, is evident in the popular Yoruba saying "Bi eniyan ko si, orisa ko si" (No humanity, no deity). (126) In other words, the worshiped depends on the worshiper for its existence; divinities are human constructs. (127) Put differently, it is eniyan (humanity) that visualized and anthropomorphized the orisa (divinity), Simultaneously inverting the process to rationalize its own creation. This act of self-reflection and self-re-creation (itunra'nite) constitutes the divinities (orisa) into a sort of superhuman Other--an extension of the metaphysical self--providing a basis for involving them in the ethics, aesthetics, poetics, and politics of human existence. It has resulted in a conventionalized form of portraiture that easily relates the self to the body politic, called Omo Oduduwa, (128) on the one hand, and to the superhuman Other, venerated as Olodumare, the orisa (divinities), and deified ancestors, on the other. Whether Oduduwa (the Yoruba mythical ancestor) is an earth goddess or a historical male figure is not an issue here. Much more important is how the concept of a common ancestor (alajobi) has been used to create a sociopolitical framework and a mode of portraiture in which myth and reality, word and image, the human and divine are intricately joined to forge a Yoruba identity out of previously diverse, even if related, groups.
Iworan: Portraiture, Spectacle, and the Dialectics of Looking
Since the face is the seat of the eyes (oju), no discussion of aworan (representation), especially portraiture, would be complete without relating it to iworan, the act of looking and being looked at, otherwise known as the gaze. To begin with, the Yoruba call the eyeball eyin oju, a refractive "egg" empowered by ase (mediated by Esu), enabling an individual to see (riran). As with other aspects of Yoruba culture, the eyeball is thought to have two aspects, an outer layer called oju ode (literally, external eye) or oju lasan (literally, naked eye), which has to do with normal, quotidian vision, and an inner one called oju inu (literally, internal eye) or oju okan (literally, mind's eye). The latter is associated with memory, intention, intuition, insight, thinking, imagination, critical analysis, visual cognition, dreams, trances, prophecy, hypnotism, empathy, telepathy, divination, healing, benevolence, malevolence, extrasensory perception, and witchcraft, among others. For the Yoruba, these two layers of th e eye combine to determine iworan, the specular gaze of an individual. The stress on the root verb, wo (to look at), clearly shows that aworan (portrait or picture) is a "lure" for the gaze--to borrow Jacques Lacan's term. (129) As noted earlier, the term aworan is a contraction of a (that which), wo (to look at), and ranti (to recall [the subject]), alluding both to the capacity of a representation to recall its referent and to an artist's preliminary contemplation (a-wo) of the raw material and the pictorial memory (iranti) involved in visualizing and objectifying the form. As Lacan has pointed out, the act of looking is influenced by a host of factors, such as desire, mood, knowledge, cultural milieu, and individual whims and caprices, and it is a reciprocal process as well. What we see (animate or inanimate) also "sees" us and has a particular way of relating to our eyes. (130) This illusion is most striking in aworan (especially a portrait), which stares back at the aworan (spectator), turning him or her into an iran (spectacle), if not another picture (aworan), (131) The fear that a viewer may subjectively read into a portrait's gaze what was not intended by the artist or the subject may very well be one of the reasons why many Yoruba in the past (especially the rich and privileged) refrained from having themselves portrayed naturalistically or in a manner that may trigger jealousy in the have-nots and awon aye (the evil-minded ones). A divination verse sums up the mutual suspicion associated with the gaze in the following manner:
You are looking at me; I am looking at you.
Who has something up his/her sleeves between the two of us? (132)
Some may resent how a portrait seems to snub them; others may be frustrated by something they see about themselves in that portrait--something they subconsciously want to be but, somehow, cannot be. It is as though the achievements of one person have hindered the progress of another.
It should be pointed out, however, that naturalistic effigies of the dead are not treated with the same suspicion, being primarily intended to mark their last physical, even if symbolic, appearance among the living. The popular saying "Oku olomo ki i sun gbagbe" (Those survived by children do not sleep forgetfully) (133) explains why most second-burial portraits have their eyes wide open (Figs. 7-12). It is an appeal to the departed to remain vigilant in the Afterlife, protecting the interests of their living relations and interceding with the deities on their behalf. (134) When installed indoors, seated on a stool, a second-burial effigy receives many salutations, becoming apewo (a focus of the gaze) and recalling the phrase "It is death that turns an individual into a beautiful sculpture; a living person has blemishes." (135) Some relations would look at the effigy straight in the eyes while chanting the oriki (eulogy) of the deceased, imploring its soul not to stay too long in the Afterlife before reincarn ating as a newborn baby. Former peers may talk to the image, calling the deceased by name and pledging to assist in completing any unfinished project or in ensuring that the toddlers left behind do not suffer. In 1967, at the second-burial ceremony (ipade) of a hunter at Ifo, near Abeokuta, I witnessed what the Yoruba would call awosunkun, that is, "look and cry." The effigy had just been delivered to the family by the carver and was taken to the backyard of the house for a dress rehearsal before the real ceremony began in the evening. It was rendered in the same style as that of Chief Aniwe (Figs. 11, 12), except that it had three vertical marks (pele) on the cheeks. Placed against the wall, the effigy was fitted with a cotton smock (dansiki) and a pouchlike hunter's cap (adiro). Then, some people knelt down and prayed in front of it. But the children of the deceased just stared speechlessly at the effigy, unable to control the tears welling up in their eyes and running down their cheeks. For them, it was a sad reminder of a physical self--once full of life, energy, and enthusiasm--now gone irretrievably with the past, to be encountered in an immaterial form only in dreams, visions, and flashes of memory, according to the dirge cited earlier. (136)
Whereas most second-burial figures are life-size and intended for public and open-air display, a good majority of the altar figures are smaller in scale, being designed to fit into private, prosceniumlike indoor spaces or small rooms serving as sites for offering periodic prayers and sacrifices to the deities or ancestral dead. Here the view of the figures is restricted to a handful of people such as the priest in charge or the owner of a given altar and those seeking spiritual assistance. Nonetheless, the diminutive and schematized forms of most altar figures, barely visible in the dimness of an indoor shrine, tend to place the figures at a considerable remove from the worldly, creating an illusion of an otherworldly space into which a beholder gazes in awe of the sublime (Fig. 23.) (137) With protruding eyes and looking like extraterrestrial beings, the figures (especially those with well-defined pupils) return the viewer's gaze so fixedly as if seeing beyond the visible or reading the viewer's mind. In the scopic encounter (and from the author's personal experience) one soon begins to identify with, or see oneself in the figures--not necessarily in the Lacanian sense of a mirror image in which the self is alienated (138) but, rather, in a futuristic sense (as the figures are not mimetic) of what this mortal self shall eventually and inevitably become: an ere (sculpture). This calls to mind, once again, that popular saying "It is death that turns an individual into a beautiful sculpture...." Some altar figures (especially those without clearly defined eyes) seem to look inward, as if in a reverie, or as if meditating on the fate of humanity. (139)
The Yoruba ambivalence toward the gaze is summed up in the popular phrase "Ejeji la a wo eniyan; bi o ba se yinyin, a se eebu" (We look at a person in one of two ways: either to commend or to condemn). (140) The positive aspect, which elicits commendation (iyin), has to do with the adun (pleasures or benefits) derived from looking or being admired. What attracts and nourishes the eyes (oju) is the ewa (beauty), isona (creativity), or ara (tour de force) manifested in a given spectacle, portrait, or a work of art in general. Any striking evidence of the beautiful or the virtuosic is said to fa oju mora (magnetize the eyes), ba oju mu (fit the eyes), becoming awowo-tun-wo (that which compels repeated gaze) or awoma-leelo (that which moors the gaze. (141) The genuine or a precious object is called ojulowo (literally, the eyes have money), implying that the object is so unique that "the eyes can spend any amount to look at it." An image is designated awoyanu (literally, that which causes the viewer to gape) if it manifests such an incredibly high artistic skill as to suggest the use of occult powers. Consequently, the Yoruba use the same term, dun (delicious), for a palatable meal and a memorable spectacle, both arousing a desire for more. In the words of a Yoruba poet:
What do we call food for the eyes?
What pleases the eyes as prepared yam flour satisfies the stomach?
The eyes have no food other than a spectacle....
Never will the eyes fail to greet the beautiful one;
Never will the eyes fail to look upon one-as-elegant-as-a-kob-antelope.
"Egungun masks are performing in the market; let us go and watch them."
It is because we want to feed the eyes." (142)
Thus, for the Yoruba, a verbal description, however vivid, can never match a direct observation. This is illustrated by the popular saying "Irohin ko to afojuba" (Listening to a report is not the same thing as being an eyewitness). The term aworeriin (look and laugh) often refers to a funny-looking image or a satirical performance, although it may also be applied to a poorly executed portrait that exposes the subject to public derision. Any image or spectacle (such as a performance by Gelede masks) that entertains and educates at the same time is called awokogbon (look and learn). The term awodunnu (look and feel the sweetness in the stomach), on the other hand, refers to a spectacle or image that fills one with joy. Yemoja, a fertility goddess and the source of all waters, is often called Awoyo (literally, the sight that fills the stomach) because of the popular belief that looking at her altar figure or into a pot of sacred water with pebbles from the Ogun River (which is sacred to her) fills her devotees' wombs with children. (143)
So far, we have dealt with the benefits of looking. What are the positive sides of being looked at, directly, or indirectly through one's portrait? Compliments (iyin) from admirers about one's physical endowment, character, taste, dress, or achievements boost one's ego and confidence and may also facilitate social mobility within one's community. One becomes a gbajumo, the Yoruba term for a celebrity, which literally means "someone known to two hundred [many] faces." (144) Since only a few achieve such a status, most people find solace in the possibility of obtaining the spiritual benefits of the gaze from Olodumare (Supreme Being) and the orisa (deities). As a matter of fact, the root verb wo (to gaze or look at) also means to nurture, to look after, or to cure, (145) as evident in the prayer for a newborn child, "Olodumare a woo" (May the Supreme Being look at or after it). In this context, wo (look at or after) is synonymous with toju (literally, bring up under the eyes), meaning to take care of. A medical facility is lle itoju (literally, a house for health care). A successful treatment is iwosan, a contraction of i (act of), wo (being gazed at), and san (be cured), or iwoye, that is, i (act of), wo (being gazed at), and ye (be saved). In preventive medicine, as mentioned earlier, the portrait of an individual may be kept in a shrine to immunize the subject from infectious diseases or sorcery. Now and then, a woman who conceived and had a child after offering sacrifices to an ancestor or a particular deity may return to its shrine to deposit a votive mother and child figure portraying herself and the child. (146) That such portraits are under the protective gaze of the ancestors or orisa is obvious in popular Yoruba names like Ogunwoo (Iron deity, look after this [child]) and Sangobamiwoo (Thunder deity, help me to look after this [child]). The following invocation to Ifa (the divination deity) sheds more light on this phenomenon:
Ifa, fix your eyes upon me and look at me well
It is when you fix your eyes upon one that he is rich;
It is when you fix your eyes upon one that he prospers. (147)
This type of gaze is called oju rere (the benevolent eye) or oju aanu (the merciful eye). (148) It follows, therefore, that the Yoruba altar, called ojubo (literally, face of the worshiped), functions as a kind of mask that facilitates ifojukoju, namely, "a face-to-face communion" between the worshiper and the worshiped, enabling the latter to appreciate the oriki (eulogy) rendered in its honor. (149) It is worth noting that the most sacred symbol of a deity--an organic substance or a collection of charms--is usually concealed inside a wooden bowl with a face carved on it to provide an ocular outlet for its content (Fig. 24). Such a face also implicates Esu the agent of sight and receiver and courier of all the sacrifices offered to a deity. (150)
This brings us to the consequences of being looked at in a negative manner. To begin with, any transgression of the social, moral, or dress codes often attracts frowns (ibojuje), uncomplimentary remarks (eebu), and such actions as may affect one's reputation or career. However, the gaze most feared by the Yoruba is that of an aje (a woman with mystical powers) or an oso (her male counterpart), whose oju okan (mind's eye) is deemed to have both beneficent and maleficent aspects. Its maleficent aspect, called oju oro (poisonous eye) or oju buruku (evil eye) generates--according to popular belief--enigmatic rays that penetrate the victim's body, either directly or through a portrait, causing high blood pressure, mental derangement, malignant sores and tumors, paralysis of the limbs, infertility in men and women, epileptic seizures, and debilitating diseases, among other effects. Anyone who dies suddenly after complaining of seeing strange faces in dreams is suspected of being a victim of awopa (literally, killer gaze). This term is also used sarcastically for an incompetent doctor (known for wrong diagnoses) and whose patients are more likely to die than survive their illnesses. (151)
Aiwoo!: The Politics of Image Concealment
The emphasis on observable representations in the current discourse of the gaze tends to ignore a practice common in sub-Saharan Africa whereby images are deliberately concealed to stress their ontological significance or "affecting presence." (152) For instance, among the Baule of Cote d'lvoire, as Susan Vogel has observed, "the act of looking at a work of art, or at spiritually significant objects, is for the most part privileged and potentially dangerous. ... The power and danger of looking lie in a belief that objects are potent, capable of polluting those who see them." (153) The Yoruba have a similar concept, as expressed in the popular admonition "Eni to ba wo iwokuwo, yo ri irikuri" (Whoever looks at the forbidden will see the fearful). In other words, delightful as looking may be on certain occasions, it could be fraught with danger at times. This is because eyin oju, the refractive "egg" called the eyeball, could weaken or be extinguished like a lamp if exposed to the sight of the "forbidden," which , in Yoruba thought, may range from ghosts to potent charms and images. Such phenomena are called awofoju (literally, look and be blinded) or awoku (literally, look and die), depending on the mystical powers attributed to them. (154) Only initiates or those whose eyes are ritually protected may safely look. The images in this category derive their mystique partly from folklore and partly from the fact that they are frequently covered up when displayed in broad daylight. For example, before being taken out of the shrine for a special ceremony in the forest, the stone images of the creativity deity Obatala (right) and his consort Yemoo (left) are wrapped in white cloth (Fig. 25). Tradition requires that the bearers of the images chant a special incantation, which, as Phillips Stevens puts it, "will cause the images to become lighter and their bearers more comfortable. If the incantation is not sung with a will, or if it is neglected entirely, the bearer of the images will tire and become weak." (155) Conscious of the onlookers, who keep a safe distance, the bearers often turn the occasion into a performance, using cadence and body language to dramatize the sacredness and heaviness of the wrapped images.
Whenever an exceptionally potent image is to be exposed in a public ritual that takes place mostly at night, a curfew is usually in force. During the event a voice warns intermittently, "Don't look at it! [Aiwoo!] ]"; 'You see it, you die! [Wori, Woku!]"; "Don't look at it! [Aiwoo!]." This is particularly the case with the Agan, a mythological being that comes out on the eve of the annual festival of masks (Odun Egungun) honoring the "Living Dead." The Agan image (sometimes represented by a bundle of charms, a carving, a masked figure, or spirit medium) is enveloped in darkness and closely guarded by attendants holding whips. As the procession approaches an area, the residents are cautioned to put out all the lights within and outside their houses to ensure total darkness. Now and then, an eerie voice cuts through the night, followed by a chorus proclaiming the Agan's supernatural power. For example:
Agan's arms are smaller than the sand fly's
Its tail is not as big as the ant's
Yet 1,460 men lifted Agan
And could not lift it to knee level. (156)
One divination verse hints at the dire consequences of spying on the Agan:
Do not set your eyes on me
No one looks at the Orombo (157)
If the Agan comes Out in daytime
Trees will fall upon trees; palms will fall upon one another
Forests will be razed to the ground
The savannah will burn out completely
This is what the Ifa oracle predicted for Mafojukanmi [Do-Not-Set-Your-Eyes-on-Me]
Popularly called Agan. (158)
According to Peter Morton-Williams, a British anthropologist who did fieldwork in Yorubaland in the 1950s, the Agan was accompanied by other "unlookable" beings during the Egungun festival at Ota:
It is important here to draw attention to the calculated use of sound effects and picturesque language against the darkness of the night, to project a surreal vision of the unseeable while, at the same time, denying the people confined indoors access to its material representation. (160) The ultimate aim is to control visual behavior and instill a reverential fear of the sacred so complex that the mere realization that one has seen the forbidden may precipitate the psychosomatic complications popularly associated with awofoju (look and be blinded) or awoku (look and die).
My escort to Ota had spent the night with his kinsmen, shut in another house, and he told me the next day that they had all been very much afraid, for they believed that Agan and Mariwo had magic which enable [d] them to "see" and attack anyone they wanted, wherever he was hidden in a house. On the last night of the festival, there is again a terrifying incursion, under the same conditions, with people locked in their houses with lights extinguished. This visitation is of Aranta. The Aranta is said to be accompanied by the voice of many animals and birds, and the sound of "witchcraft," made with a variety of voice-disguisers. (159)
New Forms, Old Values: Contemporary Developments
Since the turn of the twentieth century, Yorubaland, like other parts of Africa, has been witnessing unprecedented cultural, political, and economic transformations due to the impact of Western education, modern technology, and increasing urbanization. Yet many Yoruba have not totally abandoned their ancient customs. Mass conversion to Islam and Christianity, both of which associate traditional sculpture with paganism, has led some Yoruba to adopt new forms as camouflage in order to continue with those indigenous values to which they are still emotionally attached. While modern photography has encouraged a good majority to record important events in their lives through individual and family portraits, the fear lingers that a printed image is susceptible to sympathetic magic. Hence, individuals keep their photograph albums in a secure place to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. Some Yoruba herbalists advise that one should hold one's breath while posing for a photograph to immunize the image again st sorcery. Photographs now play major roles in a number of public and private ceremonies, either alone or in conjunction with sculptures carved in the traditional style.
The image on the lap of the seated woman in Figure 26 (carved by Ajayi Ibuke in 1970) represents the current king of Oy6, Alaafin Oba Lamidi Adeyemi II, who is required to be present, in spirit but not in person, at certain public ceremonies intended to promote the social and spiritual well-being of his subjects. I took this picture in Oyo in 1972 at the grand finale of the annual festival in honor of Sango, one of the ancient kings of Old Oyo who was deified and is now associated with thunder power (Fig. 18). The carved image has a photograph of Oba Adeyemi attached to stress his liminal role as a living representative of Sango on earth. (161) All the important guests arriving at the venue bowed before the "photo-sculptural" image of Oba Adeyemi, and during the ceremony it was the focus of attention. The drummers, dancers, and Sango-possession priests performed before it most of the time. During the intervals, praise singers entered the performance arena, moving back and forth in front of the image and chant ing the king's oriki (eulogy). The audience responded intermittently with "Ka-bi-ye-si!" (Long live the king!). At the end of the ceremony, the chief possession priest faced the image, as if it were the king himself, and wished him good health, long life, and the continued blessing of Sango. In fact, when not in use, this carved portrait is usually kept inside the Sango temple in the Koso area of town, an act that metaphorically places the king (Oba Adeyemi) under the divine and protective gaze of Sango.
Enlarged photographs are now a popular substitute for carved effigies in second-burial ceremonies, being buried in the same manner as the effigies. (162) In some cases, a second-burial memorial for a hunter (ipade) may be no more than an assemblage of flintlocks, hunting dress, hat, and charms, in front of which is displayed a photograph of the deceased. Those who can afford the expenses now commission naturalistic, Western-type memorials in cement, stone, or marble in honor of deceased parents. (163) Yet, in times of crisis, these memorials often double as shrines for clandestine rituals enlisting the spiritual aid of the dead.
There is a peculiar use of photography in twin rituals that denies the specificity of its naturalism in order to emphasize the oneness in the twoness of twins. For instance, if one of the pair should die without leaving behind a photographic image, the surviving twin is photographed in the dress of the deceased, becoming its proxy in the photograph, whether or not they are identical. This photographic image thereafter serves as a means of maintaining the twins' togetherness in life and death. If the twins are of the same sex, the photographer sometimes exposes the image of the surviving twin twice on the same paper, so that the living and the dead (represented by the living) appear to be sitting side by side in the print. But if the twins are of the opposite sex, the surviving twin is photographed in a male dress and then in a female's. The two images are eventually combined in the final print as if the twins had posed together (Fig. 27). (164) Such photographs are thought to have spiritual powers and are som etimes placed in shrines, receiving offerings of food like the carved statuettes. (165) As Marilyn Houlberg observed in the field, "The life of the survivor is said to depend on the existence and veneration of the photograph, just as it would be in the case of a wood image." (166) Through this photomontage technique, contemporary Yoruba photographers perpetuate old values in new forms, especially the tradition of deemphasizing individual identity for a collective one, which, in the case of twins, affirms their sameness.
In sum, despite the impact of Western aesthetics and modern technology on the Yoruba, they have not completely given up their belief in the ontological, mnemonic, and ritual significance of aworan (representation). Art in the traditional styles continues to be made, though it is gradually being modified to reflect the dynamics of change. Naturalistic portraits of living persons (in oil painting and other media) are now a commonplace in Yorubaland, due, in part, to a growing acceptance of the documentary function of modern photography and, in part, to a significant decline in the fear of sorcery, especially among the elites in the urban areas. Sometimes, as we have seen in twin memorials, the physical likeness inherent in photography may be ignored to make it serve a conceptual and ritual function, so that the same form may be duplicated to represent the self and its metaphysical Other. In short, a strong belief in an interface of the visible and invisible, the tangible and intangible, the known and unknown ma kes it evident that the act of looking and seeing in Yoruba culture is much more than a perception of objects by use of the eyes. It is a social experience as well, involving, on the one hand, a delicate balance of culturally determined modes of perceiving and interpreting reality and, on the other, individual reactions to specific images and spectacles.
Notes
The first version of this article (titled "Beyond Physiognomy: The Signifying Face in Yoruba Art and Thought") was presented at a special session of the African Studies Workshop, University of Chicago, Jan. 27, 1998. I am grateful to Ralph Austen, Andrew Apter, Fredrika Jacobs, Howard Risatti, Robert Hobbs, Sharon Hill, Allan Roberts, Polly Nooter Roberts, and the anonymous Art Bulletin readers for their thoughtful comments. Special thanks are due to John T. Paoletti and Perry Chapman for their criticisms, insights, and suggestions, Lory Frankel for her meticulous copyediting, and Ulli Beier, George Chemeche, Justine Cordwell, Ron Epps, Robin Poynor, Robert Farris Thompson, Frank Willett, and Richard Woodward for photographic assistance. I would also like to acknowledge the research support provided by the Faculty Grant-in-Aid and the School of the Arts Research Leave programs, Virginia Commonwealth University. Translations are mine unless otherwise indicated.
(1.) See Babatunde Lawal, "The Role of Art in Orisa Worship among the Yoruba," in Proceedings of the First World Congress of Orisa Tradition, ed. Wande Abimbola (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department of African Languages and Literatures, University of Ife, 1981), 318-25. Whereas aworan is a generic term for all artistic representations, the word ere refers to an image in the round, that is, a piece of sculpture. The word ere denotes an intricate design or pattern, although it is also used to describe a tour de force manifested in the visual and performing arts.
(2.) For example, awo means plate; awo, fishing net; and awo, secrecy.
(3.) See also A Dictionary of the Yoruba Language (Lagos: Oxford University Press, 1968); and R. C. Abraham, Dictionary of Modern Yoruba (London: University of London Press, 1958).
(4.) Richard Brilliant, Portraiture (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1991), 11.
(5.) See Samuel Johnson, The History of the Yorubas from the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the British Protectorates (Lagos: Church Missionary Society, 1921); Saburi 0. Biobaku, ed., Sources of Yoruba History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973); Wande Abimbola, ed., Yoruba Oral Tradition (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department of African Languages and Literatures, University of Ife, 1975); Toyin Falola, ed., Yoruba Historiography (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991); and Abiodun et al. In his extensive study of oral tradition in Africa and other parts of the world, Jan Vansina has demonstrated that, while they may not be as reliable as written documentation, oral traditions "embody a message from the past" and so can contribute much to the reconstruction of the past, provided that they are used with caution and correlated with independent evidence. See Vansina, Oral Tradition as History Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985); and idem, Art History in Africa (London: Longman, 1984).
(6.) The city's name Ife is an abbreviation of Ile-Ife, meaning "the place from where civilization spread to other lands." The two names are used interchangeably in the literature on Yoruba art. For consistency, I use Ife throughout this article, except in quoted passages and bibliographic references.
(7.) Notwithstanding the fact that they spoke different dialects of the same language, each kingdom was independent of the other and identified by a distinct name. The term Yoruba formerly applied only to the Oyo subgroup. However, after the British colonization of Nigeria in the 19th century, the term was used to categorize all the kingdoms speaking the same language as the Oyo. For a good introduction to the history and culture of the Yoruba, see G. J. Afolabi Ojo, Yoruba Culture: A Geographical Analysis (London: University of London Press, 1966); and Robert S. Smith, Kingdoms of the Yoruba, 3d ed. (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1988). For a comprehensive survey of Yoruba art, see Robert F. Thompson, Black Gods and Kings, Yoruba Art at U.C.L.A. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1971); and Drewal et al.
(8.) J. Olumide Lucas, The Religion of the Yorubas (Lagos: Church Missionary Society, 1948), 93-97; Ulli Beier, "The Historical and Psychological Significance of Yoruba Myths," Odu, Journal of Yoruba and Related Studies I (1955): 19-22; and Idowu, 25-27. For details, see Biodun Adediran, "The Early Beginnings of the Ife State," in Akinjogbin, 77.
(9.) For details, see John Wyndham, Myths of Ife (London: Erskine Macdonald, 1921), 13-34; Phillips Stevens, "Orisa-Nla Festival," Nigeria Magazine, no. 90 (1966): 187; Idowu, 18-27; Fabunmi, 6-7; Smith (as in n. 7), 14; and Isola Olomola, "Ife before Oduduwa," in Akinjogbin, 51-61.
(10.) Adediran (as in n.8), 90; and Isaac Akinjogbin, "The Growth of Ife from Oduduwa to 1800," in Akinjogbin, 98.
(11.) For details, see Abiodun A. Adediran and Samuel A. Arifalo, "The Religious Festivals of Ife," in Akinjogbin, 305-17; and Joel Adedaji, "Folklore and Yoruba Drama: Obatala as a Case Study," in African Folklore, ed. Richard M. Dorson (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1972), 321-39. See also Blier, 3, 386.
(12.) For a review of the evidence, see Robin C. Law, "The Heritage of Oduduwa Traditions: History and Political Propaganda," Journal of African History 14, no. 2 (1973): 207-22; Ade Obayemi, "The Yoruba and EdoSpeaking Peoples and Their Neighbours before 1600," in History of West Africa, ed. J.F.A. Ajayi and Michael C. Crowder, vol. 1 (London: Longman, 1971), 196-263; Isola Olomola, "The Eastern Yoruba Country before Oduduwa: A Reassessment," in The Proceedings of the Conference on Yoruba Civilization, ed. Isaac A. Akinjogbin and G. 0. Ekemode (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Department of History, University of Ife, 1976), 34-73; Ulli Baler, "Before Oduduwa," Odu, Journal of Yoruba and Related Studies 3 (1956): 25-42; Robin Horton, "Ancient Ife: A Reassessment," Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria 9, no. 4 (1979): 69-150; and Samuel 0. Arifalo, "Egbe Omo Oduduwa: Structure and Strategy," Odu, Journal of West African Studies, n,s., no. 21 (1981): 73-96. To further reinforce the Omo Oduduwa doctrine, the Yoruba al so call themselves Omo e k'aaro, e o ji ire? (Those who love to say, "Good morning, did you wake up well?)--alluding to the emphasis on courtesy in their culture. The quest for social harmony is emphasized in the proverb "E k'aaro e o ji ire ki i s'omo iya ija" (figuratively, Good neighborliness and quarrelsomeness are not compatible).
(13.) Idowu, 71. This prayer is necessary because Obatala is characterized in some myths as a habitual drinker who, when drunk, creates albinos, hunchbacks, cripples, and other disfigured persons.
(14.) For details, see Wande Abimbola, Iwapele: The Concept of Good Character in Ifa Literary Corpus," in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 389-418; Lawal, 1974, 239-49; Rowland Abiodun, "Identity and Artistic Process in Yoruba Aesthetic Concept of Iwa," Journal of Culture and Ideas 1 no, 1 (1983): 13-30; and idem, "The Future of African Studies: An African Perspective," in African Studies: The Future of the Discipline, Symposium Organized by the National Museum of African Art (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1990), 63-89.
(15.) The identification of the female body with procreation was probably responsible for the taboo in the past that a woman should not engage in sculpture because it might interfere with her reproductive power. Hence, only postmenopausal women were allowed to do figurative pottery. Although this taboo is still strong in rural Yorubaland, it is no longer honored by the Western-educated Yoruba in the urban areas, who now allow their daughters to specialize in sculpture in art school.
(16.) See Beier, 19-20. Another Yoruba word for mother is iye or yeye, which means, according to several field informants, "the one who laid me [ye] like an egg." Because of the tonal nature of the Yoruba language, it is significant to note that while ya means to visualize or fashion in any medium. Ya means to draw. I am grateful to several Yoruba artists for the ideas expressed in this paragraph, most especially, Michael Labode of Idofoyi, Ayetoro, Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko (both interviewed in 1971), Ajayi Ibuke of Oyo (interviewed in 1972-73), Gbetu Asude of Ife (interviewed in 1971); and George Bamidele of Osi Ekiti (interviewed in 1973).
(17.) The carver Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko drew my attention to a cognate term, arogbe, a contraction of a (act of), ro (to think or imagine). And gbe (to carve).
(18.) The Earth Goddess is frequently represented on the altar as a pair of male and female figures to symbolize her androgynous nature and the fact that she transcends the manifestation of gender in the physical world. For more details, see Babatunde Lawal, "A YA GBO, A YA TO: New Perspectives on Edan Ogboni," African Arts 28, no. 1 (1995): 36-49, 98-100; Peter Morton-Williams, "An Outline of the Cosmology of the Oyo Yoruba," Africa, Journal of the International African Institute 34 (1964): 243-60; and E. Roache-Selk, From the Womb of the Earth: An Appreciation of Yoruba Bronze Art (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1978).
(19.) Although Yoruba artists have produced works in various media, ranging from clay and ivory to stone, iron, and brass, a good majority of them are in wood. This is partly because wood is easy to sculpt and partly because much of Yorubaland lies in the rain-forest zone with abundant trees for carving.
(20.) For more details, see Peter Lloyd, "Craft Organizations in Yoruba Towns," Africa, Journal of the International African Institute 23 (1953): 30-44; and Abiodun et al.
(21.) Abiodun, 1990 (as in n. 14), 76-77.
(22.) See also Kevin C. Carroll, Yoruba Religious Carving (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1967), 94-95; and Tunde Akinyemi, "Ise Ona Sise," in Ise Isenbaye, ed. T. M. Ilesanmi (Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Obafemi Awolowo University Press. 1989), 257-59.
(23.) I am especially grateful to indigenous carvers suds as George Bamidele of Osi Ekiti, Ajayi Ibuke of Oyo, and Ganiyu Sekoni Doga of Imeko for their hospitality during my fieldwork. For more information on ase, see Pierre Verger, "The Yoruba High God: A Review of the Sources," Odu, University of Ife Journal of African Studies 2, no. 2 (1966): 19-40; and Rowland Abiodun, "Understanding Yoruba Art and Aesthetics: The Concept of Ase," African Arts 27, no. 3 (1994): 68-78, 102-3.
(24.) For more information on oriki, see Chief J. A. Ayorinde, "Oriki," in Biobaku (as in n. 5), 63-76; Bolanle Awe, "Notes on Oriki and Warfare in Yorubaland" in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 267-92; and Karen Barber, I Could Speak until Tomorrow: Oriki, Women, and the Past in a Yoruba Town (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991).
(25.) Wande Abimbola, Ifa: An Exposition of Ifa Literary Corpus (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford University Press, 1976), 133-34 (trans.). Yoruba text: "Bi mo ba lowo lowo / Ori ni n o ro fun / Ori mi iwo ni / Bi mo ba bimo laye / Orin ni n o ro fun / Ori mi iwo ni / Ire gbogbo u mo ba ni laye / Ori ni n o ro fun / Ori mi iwo ni."
(26.) For more details, see Babatunde Lawal, "Orilonise: The Hermeneutics of the Head and Hairstyles among the Yoruba," in Hair in African Art and Culture, ed. Roy Sieber and Frank Herreman (New York: Museum of African Art; Munich: Prestel, 2000), 93-109.
(27.) Olabiyi B. Yai, "In Praise of Metonymy: The Concepts of 'Tradition' and 'Creativity' in the Transmission of Yoruba Artistry over Time and Space," in Abiodun et al., 107.
(28.) For details, see Babatunde Lawal, "Ori: The Significance of the Head in Yoruba Sculpture," Journal of Anthropological Research 41, no. 1 (1985): 91-103.
(29.) For more on Esu, see Idowu, 78-83; Joan Wescott, "The Sculpture and Myths of Eshu-Elegba, the Yoruba Trickster," Africa, Journal of the International African Institute 32, no. 4 (1962): 337-54: Juana E. Dos Santos and Deoscoredes dos Santos, Esu Bara Laroye (Ibadan, Nigeria: Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, 1971); and John Pemberton, "Eshu-Elegba: The Yoruba Trickster God," African Arts 9, no. 1 (1975): 20-27, 66-70, 90-91.
(30.) Wande Abimbola, "The Yoruba Concept of Human Personality," in La notion de personne en Afrique: Colloques internationaux du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, no. 544 (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1971), 80. See also Lawal (as in n. 28), 91-103; and Rowland Abiodun, "Verbal and Visual Metaphors: Mythical Allusions in Yoruba Ritualistic Art of Ori," Word and Image, Journal of Verbal-Visual Inquiry 3, no. 3 (1987): 252-70.
(31.) Christopher L. Adeoye, Asa ati Ise Yoruba (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), 30.
(32.) In the Yoruba language, the word oju refers to both the face and the eye; the eyeball is eyin oju (the egg of the eye). The face, as used in this article, also implicates the eyes, except when it is necessary to differentiate the one from the other.
(33.) William Bascom, Ifa Divination: Communication between Men an Gods in West Africa (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1969), 159.
(34.) Ibid., 97.
(35.) See also Nathaniel Fadipe, The Sociology of the Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: University of Ibadan Press, 1970), 285-86.
(36.) Philip Allison, African Stone Sculpture (New York: Frederick Praeger, 1968), 21.
(37.) Labolarinde is the name of the individual being asked to go and look for Esu's figure at the city gate.
(38.) Pierre Verger, Notes sur le culte des Orisa et Vodun a Bahia, la Baie de tous les Saints, au Bresil et a l'Ancienne Cote des Esclaves en Afrique (Dakar, Senegal: IFAN, 1957), 127. Yoruba text: "A le kuru A le ga / O nlo ninu epa atari re nhan firifiri / Opelope giga ti o ga / Esu ni o gun ori aro ni o fi bu iyo si obe. . . . / Labolarinde, ti o ba de bode ti o ko ba ba ni enu odi ni nro oko / On na ni o da oko nibiti arugbo le de." See also Pemberton (as in n. 29), 25; Beier, 28; and Adeoye (as in n. 31), 32.
(39.) For the Yoruba, iwa has two aspects, the external and internal; the one has to do with physical appearance, and the other with character. Both aspects are taken into consideration in the assessment of an individual's beauty (ewa). For instance, a person with a beautiful body but who has an unpleasant character is regarded as no more than a wooden doll, whereas the popular saying asserts, "Iwa I'ewa" (Character determines beauty). For details, see Lawal, 1974, 239-49.
(40.) Robert F. Thompson, "Yoruba Artistic Criticism," in The Traditional Artist in African Society, ed. Warren L. D'Azevedo (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1973), 32.
(41.) For more on the Yoruba concept of the spirit double, see Raymond Prince, "Indigenous Yoruba Psychiatry," in Magic, Faith and Healing, ed. Ari Kiev (New York: Free Press, 1964), 93-94; and Idowu, 173. In the case of twins (ibeji), some Yoruba believe that an individual has been born along with his or her spirit double. For details, see Marilyn Houlberg, "Ibeji Images of the Yoruba," African Arts 7, no. 1 (1973): 20-27, 91.
(42.) Frequently, the patient may be given some herbal mixture to drink or an amulet to wear on the body to link the portrait with the portrayed.
(43.) Informants wish to remain anonymous because of the sensitive nature of the materials. According to them, to prevent abortion or premature delivery, for instance, a piece of twine may be wound around the belly of an image representing the patient. This ritual is called oyun dide (tying of pregnancy). The twine would be removed a few weeks before the baby was due, otherwise, normal delivery would be impossible. In sorcery, the same method may be used to delay or postpone delivery indefinitely. That is why any woman with an unusually long pregnancy is advised to consult diviners to help trace the cause. A patient with persistent or chronic body pain is sometimes given a small effigy to be kept very close to the body so that the pain can transfer into it. After a while, the effigy is thrown into a river to cool the pain. Gagging an effigy may cause the subject to stammer or become incoherent or speechless. This is called edi (muzzling). Another form of edi involves binding up an effigy's limbs with a string to hamper movement or cause paralysis. William Fagg illustrates a bound figure in his book Miniature Wood Carvings of West Africa (Greenwich, Conn.: New York Graphic Society, 1970), pl. 24, although, according to him, the function of the string is unknown. An image with a swollen leg or scrotum is expected to cause elephantiasis, though the same image may be used to effect a cure. In a special ritual called apeta (invoke and shoot) or apepa (invoke and kill), a clay effigy is procured and then shot at with a gun or poisoned arrow. The subject is expected to die sooner or later. Among the Fon of the Republic of Benin, "power images" variously called bocio (bo, charm, and cio, corpse) and atin vle gbeto (atin, wood, vle, resembling, and gbeto, human being) perform similar functions. Some bocio are portraits of specific individuals, while others represent personified nature forces. For details, see Suzanne P. Blier, African Vodun: Art, Psychology, and Power (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995).
(44.) Lewis Hyde, Trickster Makes This World: Mischief Myth, and Art (New York: Farrar Straus and Giroux, 1998), 7-10. See also Lawal, 1974, 242-43.
(45.) Timothy A. Awoniyi, "Omoluwabi: The Fundamental Basis of Yoruba Traditional Education," in Abimbola (as in n. 5), 379.
(46.) Idowu, 11; and Fabunmi, 8.
(47.) As cautioned in the popular proverb: "Bi isu eni ba tu, nse ni a a f' owo bo o je" (After cooking a good yam, one must cover one's mouth while eating it). In other words, to avoid the jealousy of the have-nots, one must not parade one's good fortune in public. See J. O. Ajibola, Owe Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford University Press, 1979), 63.
(48.) In the past, physiognomy was considered an important aspect of portraiture in the West. For a review of the literature, see Hans P. L'Orange, Apotheosis in Ancient Portraiture (1947; reprint, New Rochelle, N.Y.: Caratzas Brothers, 1982); Flavio Caroli, Storia della Fisiognomica: Arte e psicologia da Leornado a Freud (Milan: Leonardo, 1995); Christopher Rivers, Face Value: Physiognomical Thought and the Legible Body in Marivaux, Lavater, Balzac, Gauthier, and Zola (Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994); Fredrika Jacobs, Defining the Renaissance Virtuosa: Women Artists and the Language of Art History and Criticism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Jennifer Montagu, The Expression of the Passions: The Origin and Influence of Charles Le Brun's "Conference sun l'expression generale et particuliere" (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994); Ernst H. Gombrich, "The Mask and the Face: The Perception of Physiognomic Likeness in Life and Art," in Art, Perception and Reality, ed. Ernst H. Gombrich, Julian Hochberg, and Max Black (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1972), 1-46; and Joanna Woodall, ed., Portraiture: Facing the Subject (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997).
See also Daniel P. Biebuyck, ed., Tradition and Creativity in Tribal Art (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969); and Robert F. Thompson, African Art in Motion (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1974).
(49.) A second-burial figure is called ako if it represents a deceased chief or community leader and ipade if it represents a deceased hunter. However, the ipade may also represent those who are not hunters, including women. See P. O. Ogunbowale, Asa Ibile Yoruba (Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford University Press, 1966), 60-61.
(50.) The following song sung during an ako display in Owo is also significant: "May I be privileged to bury my father / May I be privileged to bury my father / Despite all evil machinations / Despite all evil farces / I will carry my father through the path of honour...." See Abiodun, 10-11. Note the oriki for deceased twins cited below at n. 105.
(51.) For more information on second-burial images, see Justine Cordwell, "Naturalism and Stylization in Yoruba Art," Magazine of Art 46 (1953): 220-25; Willett, 1966, 34-45; Abiodun, 4-20; Babatunde Lawal, "The Living Dead: Art and Immortality among the Yoruba," Africa, Journal of the International African Institute 47, no. 1 (1977): 50-61; and Robin Poynor, "Ako Figures of Owo and Second Burials in Southern Nigeria," African Arts 21, no. 1 (1988): 62-63, 81-83, 86-87.
(52.) Abiodun, 14-15. In other cases, the child, clad in the best dress of the deceased (regardless of whether the dress is Oversize), is led around the town, functioning like a living effigy. If the deceased was a chief, the human surrogate would be greeted, addressed, and paid the same respects as one. However, the human surrogate is not buried like an effigy. See Lawal (as in n. 51), 52.
(53.) Abiodun, 11 (trans.). Yoruba text: "Oronaye o / Wa na ire / Wa a bero toli o / Oluda iramen.... / Agada mimi ye rekun eje / Urogho ola / Ba mi le esule o / Oma owootoon woosin ogho / Urogho ola, ha mi le esule o."
(54.) Yoruba text: "Maj'okunrun / Maj'ekolo / Ohun ti won nje l'ajule orun / Ni ki o ba won je / O di gbere / O di arinako / O di oju ala / Ki a to rira." "For variants of this dirge, see Bade Ajuwon, Funeral Dirges of Yoruba Hunters (New York: Nok, 1982), 66-67; and Babatunde Olatunji, Asa Isinku ati Ogun Jije," in Iwe Asa Ibile Yoruba, ed. Oludare Olajubu (Ikeja, Nigeria: Longman, 1978), 77-78.
(55.) To the Yoruba, the souls of those who died prematurely do not go directly to the Afterlife (Ehin-Iwa). Such souls may relocate in foreign lands, reincarnate in bodies identical to those interred, and continue to live like normal human beings. Some reincarnated souls (akudaaya) may even remarry and have children. For details, see William Bascom, "The Yoruba Concept of the Soul," in Men end Cultures, ed. A.F.C. Wallace (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1960), 401-10.
(56.) For more information on second-burial images, see Cordwell (as in n. 51), 220-25; Willett, 1966, 34-45; Abiodun, 4-20; Lawal (as in n. 51), 50-61; and Poynor (as in n. 51).
(57.) Willett, 1966, 37. See also Abiodun, 14-15.
(58.) Frank Willet, "A Further Shrine for a Hunter," Man 65 (1965): 66.
(59.) For an illustration, see Ajuwon (as in n. 54), 132, 133.
(60.) These face marks identify an individual with a particular family or lineage. For illustrations, see Lawal (as in n. 51), pl. 1. Two different views of the image are illustrated in this article.
(61.) See, for example, Cordwell (as in n. 51), 220-25; Willett, 1967, 26-27; and Eyo and Willett, 34. The German anthropologist Leo Frobenius was the first to bring the Ife heads to the attention of Western scholars in the early years of the 20th century. See Frobenius, The Voice of Africa (1913; reprint, New York: Benjamin Bloom, 1968).
(62.) Cordwell (as in n. 51), 224; Willett, 1967, 23, 26-27; and Eyo and Willett, 34.
(63.) See, for example, Rowland Abiodun, review of African Art and Leadership, ed. Douglas Fraser and Herbert M. Cole, Odd, n.s., 10 (1974): 138; and Henry J. Drewal, "Ife: Origins of Art and Civilization," in Drewal et al., 66-67.
(64.) Drewal (as in n. 63), 66-67.
(65.) Akinjogbin, "Ife: The Years of Travail, 1793-1893," in Akinjogbin, 148-49.
(66.) Ironically, even though abobaku is a commonly used term, it is forbidden to say openly that a king (oba) has died (ku). Rather, one must use the euphemism obawaja, meaning "the king has ascended the roof" to join his ancestors.
(67.) See Idowu, 224-25. According to the legend, the next king was so angry with the plotters that he ordered their execution, including all the court artists involved. See also Willett, 1967, 150.
(68.) The fact that the crowns worn by some of the Ife brass and terra-cotta heads do not appear to have a beaded veil (Fig. 1) may indicate that between the 12th and 15th centuries, ancient Ife kings did not cover their face when appearing in public. If so, it would he unnecessary to conceal the face of their second-burial figures. However, the absence of a veil on the crown worn by this figure cannot be taken as incontrovertible evidence that the kings of the time appeared in public without veils. From the dress of the figure, it is evident that beaded ornaments formed an important part of the royal regalia at this time. Indeed, the Are crown, said to predate the arrival of Oduduwa in Ife, had a veil, though it is uncertain whether it was made of heads (see Adediran [as in n. 8], 84-86; an Are crown is illustrated in Omotoso Eluyemi, Oba Adesoji Aderemi: 50 Years in the History of Ile-Ife [Ile-Ife, Nigeria: Ogunbiyi Printing Press, 1980], pl. 25). The Oduduwa dynasty is credited with introducing the bead-em broidered crown with veil and bird motifs to the Yoruba. But according to Olomola (as in n, 12), 56-57, the Oduduwa dynasty would seem to have simply used a preexisting design as a model for its beaded crown. The question then arises: Is the absence of a beaded veil on the crown worn by many of the Ife (post-Oduduwa) king figures due to the technical problems of modeling the veil in clay and casting it in brass? Alternatively, the type of crown worn by a good majority of the Ife figures may very well belong to the category of coronets called orikogbofo (casual headgear) worn by the king within the palace, when his face was uncovered.
(69.) Bode Osanyin, "A Cross-road of History, Legend and Myth: The Case of the Origin of Adamuorisa," in "The Masquerade in Nigerian History and Culture: Proceedings of a Workshop, September 7-14, 1980," ed. Nwanna Nzewunwa (School of Humanities, University of Portharcourt, Portharcourt, Nigeria, 1982, mimeographed), 411-14. One legend traces its origin to the 17th century during the reign of Oba (king) Addo, while another claims that it began in the 18th century when Oba Ologun Kutere was on the throne.