In October 2022, I visited Harvard Art Museums and came face to face with a Liberian mask on the third floor, tucked away in an alcove off the primary exhibition room. The wooden mask’s face was dark with wide white eyes, contorted with an open mouth and look of distress behind its protective glass. Beads, shells, and other natural materials adorned the mask, imbuing it with color and elements presumably connecting it to its home. Reading the museum’s label revealed the mask to be a “‘chief’s mask,’ worn at solemn occasions such as the death of a leader,” and indicated that “masks like this one each have a zo (master or owner) who determines the contexts in which the mask may appear” (Object label for Mask (go ge)).
When I first saw the mask, I was immediately taken aback and almost frightened by its distorted expression, and felt almost as if the mask were screaming at me to let it out from its glass cage within a museum so far from its rightful home. I could not get myself to even photograph the piece; doing so felt disrespectful, as if I were somehow stealing a part of its soul by capturing it in a photo. As I read the wall label, I found myself asking who this mask’s zo was, and whether that person consented to putting this mask on display. Its placement among other pieces of African history, heritage, and stories provided some context, but that context felt somewhat lighthearted and not nearly important enough for a mask so potent as this particular piece, which made it feel especially out of place trapped in these museum confines.
This mask quickly became one of my favorite objects in a museum in the sense that I still cannot stop thinking about it and the feeling it left me with; seeing it displayed in a way that felt almost thoughtless saddened me, and made me curious about whether objects like this should be displayed in museums at all, or if their stories are better told in their “home” contexts. I am a strong proponent of repatriation, and I feel this object would be so much better suited in a museum exhibition designed by the culture that created it, in a location deemed important to that culture…if they chose to display it at all. The stories this object could tell would be greatly enriched by a discussion of the ceremonies it was used for, the object’s history since its creation, and how (or whether) its zo had agreed to share its power with museum audiences.
It is also worth noting that this object is part of the collection at the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, not the Harvard Art Museums, so additional context on why this object was chosen for inclusion in an art museum exhibition would also enhance the mask’s display and provide additional conversational topics for visitors. The piece was created no later than 1948 and purchased by the museum in 1948, according to the Peabody’s records, so presumably additional information on the object’s history was available but perhaps not required due to collections practices at the time (“Face Mask (Go Ge)”). This also raises questions on whether the object was legally obtained or not, as provenance of African objects can be scarce at times.
Works Cited
Object Label for Mask (go ge), Liberia, Mano, late 19th-early 20th century. At Harvard Art Museums, Boston, MA. Seen on 13 Oct 2022.
“Face Mask (Go Ge).” Peabody Museum of Archaeology & Ethnology. https://collections.peabody.harvard.edu/objects/details/123468?ctx=a2242d62fea482074c2d6a12ecc632a347ec5063&idx=0. Accessed 9 Sept 2024.
Originally written September 2024.
Art with an Opinion 