Excerpt: During the early twentieth century, artists, critics, and scholars in Paris and other continental cities accomplished a radical revaluation of a wide array of non-Western objects, re-defining as ‘primitive art’ things which had largely been relegated to the lesser status of ethnographic specimens. Even as the taste for primitive art was growing and becoming an integral component of European modernist ‘taste cultures’ – to use sociologist Herbert Gans’s useful concept – artists from Africa, India, the Pacific and the Americas were producing modern arts of their own, some of which engaged directly with the modernisms of the European avant-gardes. Yet as Johannes Fabian has shown, the criteria by which the authenticity of primitive peoples and their arts were judged located both in a pre-modern time which was past or passing. Admiration for the construct Shelly Errington has described as ‘authentic primitive art’ thus dis-located and rendered anomalous the twentieth- century arts of the descendants of their makers. As the emerging literature on multiple modernisms makes clear, the development of modern art and its integral engagement with primitive art was a project shared by numerous artists and intellectuals from India, Egypt, Mexico and many other parts of the world who travelled back and forth between their homes and the European centres of modernism during the second and third decades of the century.

A second and, arguably, even more dynamic phase of the global dissemination of modernism occurred during the middle decades of the twentieth century, set in motion during the 1930s and 40s by the diaspora of artists, dealers, curators, collectors and intellectuals forced to flee Nazi-occupied Europe. As these men and women re-established themselves in settler societies and European colonies in the Americas, Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere, they came to engage with new and distinctive matrices of art and politics. I argue in this essay that the engagements of Indigenous, settler and displaced European modernists forced into the open certain key contradictions embedded in European aesthetic primitivism, and ultimately led both to the recognition of the co-modernity of the world’s peoples and to the emergence of modernist Indigenous arts.





Description: Current discourse on Indigenous engagement in museum studies is often dominated by curatorial and academic perspectives, in which community voice, viewpoints, and reflections on their collaborations can be under-represented. This book provides a unique look at Indigenous perspectives on museum community engagement and the process of self-representation, specifically how the First Nations Elders of the Blackfoot Confederacy have worked with museums and heritage sites in Alberta, Canada, to represent their own culture and history. Situated in a post-colonial context, the case-study sites are places of contention, a politicized environment that highlights commonly hidden issues and naturalized inequalities built into current approaches to community engagement. Data from participant observation, archives, and in-depth interviewing with participants brings Blackfoot community voice into the text and provides an alternative understanding of self and cross-cultural representation.


Excerpt: The first known writing of the Lucía Miranda legend, a story of Argentine national origins, dates to 1612 with a work by Spanish soldier Ruy Díaz de Guzmán. Though apparently fictional, the episode appears as a chapter in an otherwise fact-based account of early European activity in the River Plate region known as La Argentina manuscrita. Later writers reworked the legend in their own ways, adapting it to the circumstances of their own historical moment, but the consistent points of the storyline focus on irremediable interethnic conflict: Lucía was a young, virtuous Spanish woman who accompanied her husband on an early expedition to the area, around 1532; she is kidnapped by the indigenous people, whose chief falls in love with her; she and her husband refuse to renounce their marital vows and die tragically as martyrs to conjugal love. The legend, highlighting the exchange of women in what Mary Louise Pratt calls the “contact zone,” where two cultures meet in an unequal relationship of power, keeps the point of view firmly on the side of the white settlers and what they considered their moral imperative to colonize indigenous spaces. María Rosa Lojo points out that “[e]l relato atribuye las causas de la Guerra interétnica (guerra de conquista, por la ocupación de suelo) a la pelea entre varones por una mujer” (32). The legend also functions as an attempt at justification for white, creole society’s occupation of collectively-held indigenous lands, with women’s bodies standing in as a metaphor of the territory to be usurped and dominated.