tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54747734866119311392024-03-23T11:15:23.824+01:00Nathan Potts - Oceanic Art- articles, pictures and discussion on the arts and cultures of the region oceania,nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-81481853180693533392023-07-26T12:33:00.001+02:002023-07-26T12:33:57.275+02:00Uğur Gallenkuş<p> <a href="https://www.boredpanda.com/author/ugur-gallen" rel="nofollow" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(255, 255, 255); box-sizing: content-box; color: #d74b1f; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Uğur Gallenkuş</a><span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;"> is a world-known digital artist based in Istanbul, Turkey. He gained his popularity with thought-provoking photo collages conscientiously addressing the "widening global divide between the privileged and oppressed, weaving together misery and mirth, wealth and poverty and love and despair</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4tE_Zw_zkvPQ-8tLZhnJTYxTxg6kFDsoWSrWOydjfvuLeL2Yy4XADe4eeHRqGDumXKsfjF0TJV0eYH4BnycHC79IX34dHpOD-0ju5wmfRFwB3A-2RKrFTMTXR7gu4LXoIp9ED5lhe8e82gCFm4B36XX2hy3_x2W99itbt9G5xm09fMq8jIZepzD0glg/s700/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7f1ec027__700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4tE_Zw_zkvPQ-8tLZhnJTYxTxg6kFDsoWSrWOydjfvuLeL2Yy4XADe4eeHRqGDumXKsfjF0TJV0eYH4BnycHC79IX34dHpOD-0ju5wmfRFwB3A-2RKrFTMTXR7gu4LXoIp9ED5lhe8e82gCFm4B36XX2hy3_x2W99itbt9G5xm09fMq8jIZepzD0glg/s320/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7f1ec027__700.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrWJaEd2PV6INbjXoG0cpRvnqjMcyrGrkLpxmEI8NG0HcqYf8g5sXwTLHtHoqJ3HBmVKAoc6oIzkZ8dtYtCRn3U1_T71JM0TP5BN_ckuom2TIztRKCpQh2LA42w7JrqceTn3j5earX_E4Z15EbVfZBHRSyNl2adDFI4rcow1BFHjdA_fcFzq6jhGRiAA/s700/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7ade7de3__700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrWJaEd2PV6INbjXoG0cpRvnqjMcyrGrkLpxmEI8NG0HcqYf8g5sXwTLHtHoqJ3HBmVKAoc6oIzkZ8dtYtCRn3U1_T71JM0TP5BN_ckuom2TIztRKCpQh2LA42w7JrqceTn3j5earX_E4Z15EbVfZBHRSyNl2adDFI4rcow1BFHjdA_fcFzq6jhGRiAA/s320/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7ade7de3__700.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAI2ZMv7doDFMADe6veI5H3-Ro81UfCQAqYLkAkSjmfA-hLQZb2Y1dwiIUQnWdtTlbvCx41oAaqRJQmNh0mzHY1-SghgjgjJYu3JOqGykCvBaFGGZzVcBiSGiQZGKKelj5MRTKMRCFL94I1Nk9RxNFNJ7Nnqmc-7BmFKK6O1qp4at_6OVYhB-oui9iwz8/s700/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7da037e3__700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAI2ZMv7doDFMADe6veI5H3-Ro81UfCQAqYLkAkSjmfA-hLQZb2Y1dwiIUQnWdtTlbvCx41oAaqRJQmNh0mzHY1-SghgjgjJYu3JOqGykCvBaFGGZzVcBiSGiQZGKKelj5MRTKMRCFL94I1Nk9RxNFNJ7Nnqmc-7BmFKK6O1qp4at_6OVYhB-oui9iwz8/s320/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7da037e3__700.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38OD7mVPgy865u6dbEHCbucM_U3vQzk-Xp8f2AZg6kGgJL3tLqX9NQLFSPU8ByeYf4Z_ITwl1qYRNwUokzPzhEcnr9Mz1My7xfapYdK-rZRemF4_Lasa_Fxj4ESYdTTPTgyDi621JNZwuNpyqpvRqgY_uN6nLWm2VuE5Bb9hJc3LryI-uASJ0Qj7lKxE/s700/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7e2d7b54__700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38OD7mVPgy865u6dbEHCbucM_U3vQzk-Xp8f2AZg6kGgJL3tLqX9NQLFSPU8ByeYf4Z_ITwl1qYRNwUokzPzhEcnr9Mz1My7xfapYdK-rZRemF4_Lasa_Fxj4ESYdTTPTgyDi621JNZwuNpyqpvRqgY_uN6nLWm2VuE5Bb9hJc3LryI-uASJ0Qj7lKxE/s320/New-works-by-a-Turkish-photographer-that-show-the-contrasts-of-our-unadorned-world-64afa7e2d7b54__700.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-6565689556104028302023-07-15T22:27:00.002+02:002023-07-15T22:31:51.756+02:00angouleme museum - Voir l’Invisible – un voyage au coeur des cultures traditionnelles d’Australie<h1 class="tribe-events-single-event-title" data-wahpro-titles-style="" data-wahfont="24">Voir l’Invisible – un voyage au coeur des cultures traditionnelles d’Australie</h1><div class="tribe-events-schedule tribe-clearfix"><h2 data-wahpro-titles-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="tribe-event-date-start" data-wahfont="16">22 juin 2023</span> > <span class="tribe-event-date-end" data-wahfont="16">7 janvier 2024</span></h2></div><div id="post-22055" class="post-22055 tribe_events type-tribe_events status-publish has-post-thumbnail hentry tribe_events_cat-adultes tribe_events_cat-exposition tribe_events_cat-familles tribe_events_cat-jeune-public tribe_events_cat-musee-dangouleme cat_adultes cat_exposition cat_familles cat_jeune-public cat_musee-dangouleme" jstcache="0"><div class="tribe-events-event-image"><h1 class="tribe-events-single-event-title" data-wahpro-titles-style="" data-wahfont="24">Voir l’Invisible – un voyage au coeur des cultures traditionnelles d’Australie</h1><div class="tribe-events-schedule tribe-clearfix"><h2 data-wahpro-titles-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="tribe-event-date-start" data-wahfont="16">22 juin 2023</span> > <span class="tribe-event-date-end" data-wahfont="16">7 janvier 2024</span></h2></div><div id="post-22055" class="post-22055 tribe_events type-tribe_events status-publish has-post-thumbnail hentry tribe_events_cat-adultes tribe_events_cat-exposition tribe_events_cat-familles tribe_events_cat-jeune-public tribe_events_cat-musee-dangouleme cat_adultes cat_exposition cat_familles cat_jeune-public cat_musee-dangouleme" jstcache="0"><div class="tribe-events-event-image"><img width="1429" height="2109" src="https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02.jpg" class="attachment-full size-full wp-post-image" alt="" decoding="async" srcset="https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02.jpg 1429w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-203x300.jpg 203w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-694x1024.jpg 694w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-768x1133.jpg 768w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-1041x1536.jpg 1041w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-1388x2048.jpg 1388w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-840x1240.jpg 840w, https://maam.angouleme.fr/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/AustralieAffiche02-414x611.jpg 414w" sizes="(max-width: 1429px) 100vw, 1429px"></div><div class="tribe-events-single-event-description tribe-events-content"><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Découvrez l’exposition « Voir l’Invisible – un voyage au cœur des cultures traditionnelles d’Australie » </span><span class="x_s2" data-wahfont="16">du 22 juin 2023 au 7 janvier 2024</span><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">.</span></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><b><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Nous </span><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">vous invitons à découvrir la richesse matérielle et immatérielle des cultures des autochtones d’Australie, grâce aux témoignages d’artistes, d’hommes et de femmes qui luttent au quotidien pour faire exister leur identité et défendre leurs droits.</span></b></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><b><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Le musée d’Angoulême souhaite </span><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">souligner la place clef et importante de ce mouvement Australien dans l’histoire de l’art, en </span></b><b>développant ici un dialogue fécond entre les oeuvres des Aborigènes des vastes régions de l’Australie et les collections du musée, de l’antiquité aux peintures occidentales du 20e siècle.</b></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Au sein du musée vous pourrez traverser toute l’Australie du nord au sud, et plonger dans les cultures millénaires toujours vives des communautés du Détroit de Torres (Queensland), des Iles Tiwi, chez les peuples Yolngus et Kunibídji de la Terre d’Arnhem. </span></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Puis contempler les œuvres du désert central avec les peuples Pintupi, Pitjantjatjara, Anmatyerres, Yuparitjas, Martus, Walpiris. Jusqu’aux communautés du sud avec les Coorong en Australie méridionale.</span></p><ol class="x_ol1" data-wahfont="16"><li class="x_li1" data-wahpro-txt-style=""><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Dans l’espace d’exposition temporaire, les membres des communautés du Coorong (Australie méridionale) et du Détroit de Torres (Queensland) racontent leurs manières de voir le monde, et combien pour eux la nature est indissociable de leurs vies. Ils s’organisent pour reprendre le contrôle sur leurs terres avec leurs savoirs ancestraux bien utiles dans ces temps de dégradation environnementale. A travers quelques objets mais surtout des paroles, des silences, des paysages, des secrets, les communautés choisissent ce qu’elles nous montrent, nous disent et nous transmettent.</span></li><li class="x_li1" data-wahpro-txt-style=""><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Dans les espaces des collections permanentes du musée, nous ouvrons le regard sur les patrimoines australiens, dans un dialogue entre différents univers artistiques situés aux antipodes qui soulignent des enjeux universels comme ceux : de l’alliance entre les peuples comme chez les Aborigènes Yolngu et les peuples d’Indonésie, 600 ans avant la colonisation de l’Australie ; de l’importance politique des oeuvres d’art dans les démarches de revendications et de restitutions effectives des territoires comme chez les Spinifex ; des migrations des peuples indigènes à cause de la sécheresse ou de la montée des eaux, soulignées par les artistes Yulparitja et Kaiadil de la diaspora en hommage à leur terre perdue ; de l’audace des artistes entre tradition et innovation, qui convoque au présent la culture continue la plus ancienne, avec de nouveaux matériaux et leurs individualités créatives.</span></li></ol><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">L’exposition a été montée en partenariat avec le Muséum du Havre, le Musée du Quai <span class="x_Apple-converted-space" data-wahfont="16"> </span>Branly et avec Bertrand Estrangin, Franco-Belge, et spécialiste des arts Aborigènes, en puisant dans sa propre collection et des oeuvres de sa galerie Aboriginal Signature Estrangin à Bruxelles.</span></p></div></div></div><div class="tribe-events-single-event-description tribe-events-content"><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Découvrez l’exposition « Voir l’Invisible – un voyage au cœur des cultures traditionnelles d’Australie » </span><span class="x_s2" data-wahfont="16">du 22 juin 2023 au 7 janvier 2024</span><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">.</span></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><b><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Nous </span><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">vous invitons à découvrir la richesse matérielle et immatérielle des cultures des autochtones d’Australie, grâce aux témoignages d’artistes, d’hommes et de femmes qui luttent au quotidien pour faire exister leur identité et défendre leurs droits.</span></b></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><b><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Le musée d’Angoulême souhaite </span><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">souligner la place clef et importante de ce mouvement Australien dans l’histoire de l’art, en </span></b><b>développant ici un dialogue fécond entre les oeuvres des Aborigènes des vastes régions de l’Australie et les collections du musée, de l’antiquité aux peintures occidentales du 20e siècle.</b></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Au sein du musée vous pourrez traverser toute l’Australie du nord au sud, et plonger dans les cultures millénaires toujours vives des communautés du Détroit de Torres (Queensland), des Iles Tiwi, chez les peuples Yolngus et Kunibídji de la Terre d’Arnhem. </span></p><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s1" data-wahfont="16">Puis contempler les œuvres du désert central avec les peuples Pintupi, Pitjantjatjara, Anmatyerres, Yuparitjas, Martus, Walpiris. Jusqu’aux communautés du sud avec les Coorong en Australie méridionale.</span></p><ol class="x_ol1" data-wahfont="16"><li class="x_li1" data-wahpro-txt-style=""><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Dans l’espace d’exposition temporaire, les membres des communautés du Coorong (Australie méridionale) et du Détroit de Torres (Queensland) racontent leurs manières de voir le monde, et combien pour eux la nature est indissociable de leurs vies. Ils s’organisent pour reprendre le contrôle sur leurs terres avec leurs savoirs ancestraux bien utiles dans ces temps de dégradation environnementale. A travers quelques objets mais surtout des paroles, des silences, des paysages, des secrets, les communautés choisissent ce qu’elles nous montrent, nous disent et nous transmettent.</span></li><li class="x_li1" data-wahpro-txt-style=""><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">Dans les espaces des collections permanentes du musée, nous ouvrons le regard sur les patrimoines australiens, dans un dialogue entre différents univers artistiques situés aux antipodes qui soulignent des enjeux universels comme ceux : de l’alliance entre les peuples comme chez les Aborigènes Yolngu et les peuples d’Indonésie, 600 ans avant la colonisation de l’Australie ; de l’importance politique des oeuvres d’art dans les démarches de revendications et de restitutions effectives des territoires comme chez les Spinifex ; des migrations des peuples indigènes à cause de la sécheresse ou de la montée des eaux, soulignées par les artistes Yulparitja et Kaiadil de la diaspora en hommage à leur terre perdue ; de l’audace des artistes entre tradition et innovation, qui convoque au présent la culture continue la plus ancienne, avec de nouveaux matériaux et leurs individualités créatives.</span></li></ol><p class="x_p1" data-wahpro-txt-style="" data-wahfont="16"><span class="x_s3" data-wahfont="16">L’exposition a été montée en partenariat avec le Muséum du Havre, le Musée du Quai <span class="x_Apple-converted-space" data-wahfont="16"> </span>Branly et avec Bertrand Estrangin, Franco-Belge, et spécialiste des arts Aborigènes, en puisant dans sa propre collection et des oeuvres de sa galerie Aboriginal Signature Estrangin à Bruxelles.</span></p></div></div>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-83354281963780061982023-06-09T22:43:00.000+02:002023-06-09T22:43:40.909+02:00About me<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgyjW7eR0Oa16Ch0MfiGclgb1jsfbbF3s8H3t7LEb2JMySImSZzPJcibgCWvwRnLV0JhA1zTi8yC58WQbir0aw9T1ISKPBXmiYusVOSMYQijRTRXzVgpZpU5oH9jtuYgnHiH5aO_NhMRS-AyqIIrDyValzcBup1Vsn-Yk3v3MQoaTgblqzhTNgzom/s1280/IMG_815011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgyjW7eR0Oa16Ch0MfiGclgb1jsfbbF3s8H3t7LEb2JMySImSZzPJcibgCWvwRnLV0JhA1zTi8yC58WQbir0aw9T1ISKPBXmiYusVOSMYQijRTRXzVgpZpU5oH9jtuYgnHiH5aO_NhMRS-AyqIIrDyValzcBup1Vsn-Yk3v3MQoaTgblqzhTNgzom/s320/IMG_815011.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U-lsMnWXAmzjwSo9CykUSqSi1SQKfMdCpLIeYvLHr23lXTjTMST_mVXfYvjBDO3Rx4Coc0bK3ZmTVOpr_W0QnElvTmYWxay6l8NovPVkfU1ghd736rngkm16oH7x9y1SkQfRbQ3Pv3hoaMgZXS9MURNlJUTFQL1tHiXL-pQLWgy5euYOtsM1_m1b/s2448/20220908_165058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpAYvZm4l9h4uLLF40c6x1bRNFRlZMe6hGmgmwkCEIkrlAGi46wAX5bIgEbeX2xfeeFpdesrczY8uwr1LwPoQ0hkKAqhi1mDZc-cCBRyRLf2LmF5CQ1CFzR6EhGpCeCckSKVeqyylSUnl673WuXLWBQEhEm2JQWHEsVmT9EssPQq_Vypn2lKEReJR/s6528/20230405_205242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6528" data-original-width="4896" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpAYvZm4l9h4uLLF40c6x1bRNFRlZMe6hGmgmwkCEIkrlAGi46wAX5bIgEbeX2xfeeFpdesrczY8uwr1LwPoQ0hkKAqhi1mDZc-cCBRyRLf2LmF5CQ1CFzR6EhGpCeCckSKVeqyylSUnl673WuXLWBQEhEm2JQWHEsVmT9EssPQq_Vypn2lKEReJR/s320/20230405_205242.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEgRJv-sN94956sM5nh8PLoNsa3EwIpnbyYX7ZNJdx8YUU70qRwFQDuCZYobIk3QFkYqfUF1i3rr_1MKUn7XXHcYIOzyIhFYmoXkWQVClqwGxALhNltjvd2md_142i-PZfrZw7BsY8nVAXcWP3BG5tEkiRS-sptB2V4GoSQYeVWjBaTUgdsjYlguk/s6528/20230408_110753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4896" data-original-width="6528" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEgRJv-sN94956sM5nh8PLoNsa3EwIpnbyYX7ZNJdx8YUU70qRwFQDuCZYobIk3QFkYqfUF1i3rr_1MKUn7XXHcYIOzyIhFYmoXkWQVClqwGxALhNltjvd2md_142i-PZfrZw7BsY8nVAXcWP3BG5tEkiRS-sptB2V4GoSQYeVWjBaTUgdsjYlguk/s320/20230408_110753.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhveSLmTWmW_VZULVy6asUKOPXQoEaWNQoBlg327ACWgXhhPn00gIZMszeM9xkL-QpvQqTshnBdg7HK1OUheQX35YcQlOqD9D-f1C8VmaVZKVY6ZfDWAOdBdOd4QCatkZk94Ser2u9x4dmoN_0EoElRL-PhBtWdTxCOX7MP_-cq4sZEoZzabqPZ2h/s6528/20230415_125702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4896" data-original-width="6528" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhveSLmTWmW_VZULVy6asUKOPXQoEaWNQoBlg327ACWgXhhPn00gIZMszeM9xkL-QpvQqTshnBdg7HK1OUheQX35YcQlOqD9D-f1C8VmaVZKVY6ZfDWAOdBdOd4QCatkZk94Ser2u9x4dmoN_0EoElRL-PhBtWdTxCOX7MP_-cq4sZEoZzabqPZ2h/s320/20230415_125702.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /></div><br /> <p></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-41704432403342177562023-06-06T13:02:00.002+02:002023-06-06T13:02:21.894+02:00Amsterdam tribal art fair<p><img align="left" alt="https://stratus.campaign-image.eu/images/134743000000264078_zc_v1_1685948114858_eerste_aankondiging_taf_herfst_2023_(002).jpg" class="m_-6835804131602889426zpImage CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="339" hspace="0" size="F" src="https://ci4.googleusercontent.com/proxy/mtg4wvXPATpSBv6bHkGvVJ5QPpveDI5O7_POSyI_xOvmOiXsjAcHQWKnu3oCA4KTCWH0bAvcevePwssdD49iWt0SUxws-TAu0rA98BJ72vhEm4lnY6jMI7Pxc6IyoT1-jhbpobAR1qWClGzOTHrlMt8kMrDTHCOzoEpqXQIIuRiiIFulukeI2RLYflozPxMo=w640-h339" style="border: 0px; height: autopx; max-width: 567px!important; text-align: left; width: 567px;" vspace="0" width="640" /> <br /></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-65473581461610552892023-06-06T12:58:00.006+02:002023-06-06T12:58:47.264+02:00Congrats Stephane Martin<p><img class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="920" src="https://ci5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/f91t08dQQqzssX00BC-YnUf1rIY2p8rIrU5cODSMYhiFvyj0ptGSbxqal-pu-x3o6D2fdEeWhspxtFNATNFcPjP4KtviVhT-Xrv49TSeKP9v-v5eMIPtl0foPyxOKgPkXkoTyM3KBev38I3YEyo2Z-szecbbEA=s0-d-e1-ft#https://mcusercontent.com/84c2c499c7cbe9237825e34c9/images/1688caf9-a599-325c-eb93-2e26000e806c.jpg" style="border: 0px; height: 920px; margin: 0px; outline: none; text-decoration: none; width: 650px;" width="650" /> <br /></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-90868836548043649552023-06-06T12:56:00.000+02:002023-06-06T12:56:07.130+02:00LEMPERTZ - Polynesian Art<p></p><p></p><p></p><p><img alt="" border="0" class="m_-553050593342773690rnb-header-img CToWUd" data-bit="iit" hspace="0" src="https://ci6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/oMnU8StQ2uBd3pFjN_hT7S3SA-Ris1-LiAKrQ4s9hfmGTgyOxUOgUFO7gYVUHDO5vvjBFWRJwGdBhi4gB6lTXPQ4xWB4HcXb3wZkrKl3er2OAvBAyC6Oq15-YJzKH9aVtlPiaJqITPmLMU5miyK3UDjX08EKfkFJ4B8EdepuW7Y5pDTbNCXx_S8W5R-JvLzS8VP9adoIyKyPflvMdqKLQ3oqeOWh639kXG8Jxe9rexL3T2BodgSJSI0aZGA5ArYVFyPDHn66uoNdtUxXZdItzNmYjr8C4uRWiHqiC5UgYX8KmDdVu7vJR_ZIAIaWkUorTptcNDZCdtmHvXGJ2LMHJMQmUFfJCayLpd2fAa87m1rXTSN9qcN6POJZHvKda3T_tizM_uoqoLN4ox2i30ywFBGFo-k49ekan9LGgiWUln4Ka64QiXJqEgAV_BvpXqp4OIZwwKWDKfnI1kJ5TyKsaF4rNOc89Oihn2jhVZ1xjtKj=s0-d-e1-ft#https://4hll7.img.a.d.sendibm1.com/im/2637237/41b9dbb7a840a41e5326bf79b47cab0f21e16eef4d13afb0a6aaf92356735acc.jpeg?e=Qv8mGffu46ViXPhg2mq-Y6YuM516iV9_tepaXD1WZzSTTlxs7ZrdVkrQPgQ05PdckN9WWw9U0NBe-3jdHa9hD1SX4UZhxttGzwRwJ6X7ZGk4i6ItYIS-1--RkzUnLr3dC1F_Q_JRLUMDyidXdDAJQ5-xtI-X5Om0I4O4SfBWf4nte9nJ-ehiE61s42qnlgaI3tYnO9OtOGTJrhbHZLnaOxk_A6iUF4ha2Alp1A8" style="border-radius: 0px; display: block; float: left;" vspace="0" width="590" /> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-41517915231695362372023-06-01T20:55:00.005+02:002023-06-06T11:54:49.245+02:00Parcours des mondes 5-10 septembre 2023 Quartier des Beaux-Arts, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, Paris<p><br /></p><p>Im wondering if i should be excited about the Parcours des mondes this year?</p><p>Will it tbe the tired, fatigued same?<br /></p><p>Will we see some challenging perspectives?</p><p>Any encouraging of a new audience for such a fertile passion? <br /></p><p> we will see...<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><img alt="Parcours des mondes" src="https://www.parcours-des-mondes.com/templates/parcours-des-mondes/img/construct/main-logo.png" title="Parcours des mondes" /> <br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-83674861877076932622022-07-25T14:08:00.005+02:002022-07-25T14:08:34.751+02:00Entwistle virtual visit<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741templateContainer" style="background-color: #f9fafc; border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; max-width: 590px !important; width: 590px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="center" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top"><div style="background-color: #608682; border-radius: 0px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="m_-5096884506678272741Layout_2" name="Layout_2" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="center" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#608682" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-container" style="border-radius: 0px; border-spacing: 0px; height: 0px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; margin: auto;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><th align="center" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-force-col" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: center;"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-col-1" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td height="10" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;"></td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #3c4858; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 36px;"><span style="color: white;"><strong>ENTWISTLE</strong></span></span></td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td height="10" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;"></td></tr></tbody></table></th></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div></td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="center" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top"><div style="background-color: #608682; border-radius: 0px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-del-min-width" id="m_-5096884506678272741Layout_3" name="Layout_3" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; min-width: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="center" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-del-min-width" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px !important;" valign="top"><a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#m_-5096884506678272741_" name="m_-5096884506678272741_Layout_3" style="color: #1155cc;"></a><table bgcolor="#608682" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-container" style="border-radius: 0px; border-spacing: 0px; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td height="5" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 1px; line-height: 5px; margin: 0px;"> </td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="left" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><th class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-force-col" style="font-weight: normal; padding-right: 0px; text-align: left;" valign="top" width="590"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-col-1" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; width: 590px;" valign="top"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="left" class="m_-5096884506678272741img-block-center" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="left" class="m_-5096884506678272741img-block-center" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; display: inline-block;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;"><div style="border-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline-block;"><div><img alt="" border="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-col-1-img CToWUd a6T" hspace="0" src="https://ci3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/5L9P2qV_McwnIjXYGIcLNEUv5Qrd-tV_q4Eh1YbKsFJbu8CnPiHNvBUEFfZpCuN6JOS6xPEmp9R8LbCNUIKO-nIWXt41GWjH17ibQnhrptbBNViodid0VMLhyTVr7n9dAQT603pecPRYDGcpaLqy7xvN3qmdbYYlKO4bN9HLRKKdX26VO1fV5UU4L1dLdSCXjLFah6cW8i52UFUYSH_7rMBDEl51KIrXESQVvZGN1qg6LwpQWvimCSe_wa2G2GxSETCYfWBLhEG_w-FfGWl7W8uLTYT3bLYby7JxfPkZ3Hi6yiKV5FOSoHjTMfT3oVnaIs8D8IHL4tMWQwpTchudH5_C6oHVNJ6Oflko-nIgsw5rqLYM7_8cJxdgJ-i07QuS518BYh6kFycnQUG96LVxhoUkCTJ5Pxmdyjf16J_qJ5IOLpXzQ15uNxXkbRAGiwCfVC_TljLVd2kuAKL4hwn_XBT6q3h2BWeJ9nHBK4Tag4hp=s0-d-e1-ft#https://3wxts.img.ag.d.sendibm3.com/im/2251454/3c91629750254167c15c40c36b816968f1c928b3038d16b7612d84d7001a622a.jpg?e=4vV9xosLF7o0jY2qLi3ds0NxV8MMddsa1Ee69_Abhw5oMOYD5pOW7P6ASGWgURBhTsWzKM5lL4s-E4RRN88jMGJFXSG4aiD_eRsG5eP5WDjO3LmCvzflp9WkEgpUzqjyNgXao9zazGdDs98cPhrH4hhOe4QGsfinEhlCF9hwGH5oR9AjQYb-veupAFJEjw48bYv2AqQbp03g9MjYqzEt2p1bjPmugpstLPFuPSA" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; max-width: 1689px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: top;" tabindex="0" vspace="0" width="590" /></div><div style="clear: both;"></div></div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td height="10" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 1px; line-height: 10px; margin: 0px;"> </td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #3c4858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: white;">A la veille de sa fermeture estivale, ENTWISTLE vous propose de vous replonger dans son exposition OCÉANIE : <em>Formes et Rituels</em> au format virtuel.<br />Nous restons disponibles par email pour répondre à vos questions et vous retrouverons en septembre pour la 21ème édition du Parcours des Mondes.</span><br /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: white;">On the eve of its summer closing, ENTWISTLE invites you to revisit virtually their exhibition OCEANIA : <em>Forms and Rituals</em>. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;">We remain available by email to answer your questions and will see you in September for the 21st edition of Parcours des Mondes.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td height="10" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 1px; line-height: 10px; margin: 0px;"> </td></tr><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-5096884506678272741rnb-btn-col-content" style="border-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px auto;"><tbody><tr style="border-collapse: collapse;"><td align="center" bgcolor="#96865b" height="32" style="background-color: #96865b; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-radius: 4px; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 18px; padding-right: 18px; text-align: center;" valign="middle" width="auto"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://3wxts.r.ag.d.sendibm3.com/mk/cl/f/WVRQDTcfIaTYFuF_bdTEeAsJZrbLcUgm0ILn7iVOpCHHsbIDG7LSaQ-3L8A3Pjz9N2uBJ7EbeZEtKjyIke9xXiMlvgyhzOzCa4ybYXguIb6il5X9JXL7eZZwuHgiDftIYCWozpjOXpDOmUM-YTBKmoLBuwgp-RJJVOc_9fEhub8m_IIC5JfsikkNTO_ltcy9kVTueWo9V_NaFuJjPvQDSwNhe8_moC7BnF1SorSvmHKIRBqaXKmjPqjiN4bCIvmA-A&source=gmail&ust=1658837053145000&usg=AOvVaw2Sv_iUXPPKFnSxQRLI-Pex" href="https://3wxts.r.ag.d.sendibm3.com/mk/cl/f/WVRQDTcfIaTYFuF_bdTEeAsJZrbLcUgm0ILn7iVOpCHHsbIDG7LSaQ-3L8A3Pjz9N2uBJ7EbeZEtKjyIke9xXiMlvgyhzOzCa4ybYXguIb6il5X9JXL7eZZwuHgiDftIYCWozpjOXpDOmUM-YTBKmoLBuwgp-RJJVOc_9fEhub8m_IIC5JfsikkNTO_ltcy9kVTueWo9V_NaFuJjPvQDSwNhe8_moC7BnF1SorSvmHKIRBqaXKmjPqjiN4bCIvmA-A" style="color: white; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><em>Cliquez ici</em></a></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></th></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div></td></tr></tbody></table>nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-49646981469039663622022-07-19T18:05:00.003+02:002022-07-19T18:08:22.856+02:00PARCOURS DES MONDES<p> </p><p><br /></p><center style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="m_-7425316587442210413bodyTable" style="background-color: #fafafa; border-collapse: collapse; height: 100%px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" id="m_-7425316587442210413bodyCell" style="border-top: 0px; font-family: Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; height: 2740.69px; margin: 0px; padding: 10px; 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max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="m_-7425316587442210413mcnTextContent" style="color: #202020; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "playfair display", georgia, "times new roman", serif;">6 – 11 Septembre 2022</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "playfair display", georgia, "times new roman", serif;">Saint-Germain-Des-Prés, Paris</span></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-7425316587442210413mcnDividerBlock" style="border-collapse: collapse; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed !important; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="margin: 0px; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 1px solid rgb(223, 224, 214); min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="margin: 0px;"></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="margin: 0px; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-7425316587442210413mcnTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="m_-7425316587442210413mcnTextContent" style="color: #202020; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: darkorange;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Les exposants du Parcours des mondes vous donnent rendez-vous à Paris en septembre.</span></span></span><br /> </div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; 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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-74526434666199562882017-06-11T13:18:00.001+02:002017-06-11T13:18:05.061+02:00post fragment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">REGION</span></dt>
<dd class="dropdown" style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px; position: relative;"><a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://artkhade.com/en/search/sepik-river-east-sepik-province?q=region-716" style="color: #0088cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Region" xid="region-716">Sepik River (East Sepik Province) </a></dd>
<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">PERIOD</span></dt>
<dd class="dropdown" style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px; position: relative;"><a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://artkhade.com/en/search/xix-xxth-century?q=period-289" style="color: #0088cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Période" xid="period-289">XIX-XXth century </a></dd>
<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">CATEGORIES</span></dt>
<dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span class="dropdown" style="position: relative;"><a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://artkhade.com/en/search/post-pole?q=objecttype-82" style="color: #0088cc; text-decoration: none;" xid="objecttype-82">Post / Pole</a></span></dd>
<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">FEATURES</span></dt>
<dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span class="dropdown" style="position: relative;"><a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://artkhade.com/en/search/fragment-section-piece-of?q=feature-238" style="color: #0088cc; text-decoration: none;" xid="feature-238">Fragment / Section / Piece of</a></span></dd>
<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">MATERIALS</span></dt>
<dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span class="dropdown" style="position: relative;"><a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://artkhade.com/en/search/wood?q=material-1" style="color: #0088cc; text-decoration: none;" xid="material-1">Wood</a></span></dd>
<dt style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; float: left; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; text-align: right; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; width: 120px;"><span style="color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; text-shadow: white 0px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;">SIZE</span></dt>
<dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;">234.00 cm</dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 18px; margin-left: 130px;"><span style="color: #c2c2c2; font-family: , serif; font-size: 18px; text-transform: uppercase;">SALES INFORMATION AND PROVENANCE</span></dd></dl>
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PROVENANCES </h3>
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PIERRE AND CLAUDE VÉRITÉ, PARIS</h4>
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17 JUNE 2006 - COLLECTION PIERRE ET CLAUDE VÉRITÉ - ENCHÈRES RIVE GAUCHE </h4>
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SALE INFORMATION</h3>
- <a href="http://artkhade.com/en/index/international?r=%2Fen%2Fobject%2F042718%2FkYq2ww%2Fa-post-fragment-sepik-river-papua-new-guinea%3Fsearch%3D%26r%3D%3Fsearch%3D%252Fen%252Fsearch%253Fl%253D0%252B50%2526q%253Dregion-716%252Bfeature-238%2526ob%253Dlatest_sale_date" style="color: #0088cc; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none;">Change currency</a><br />
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LOT 305, ENCHÈRES RIVE GAUCHE, PARIS - 17 JUNE 2006</h4>
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COLLECTION PIERRE ET CLAUDE VÉRITÉ</h6>
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<span class="amount hammer" style="color: grey; font-size: 22px; font-weight: bold; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: purple;">€ 46,000 EUR</span></span></div>
Original Currency of Sale: <span class="amount" style="color: black; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px;">€ 46,000 EUR</span><br />
Estimate: <span class="amount" style="color: black; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px;">€ 6,000 - 8,000 EUR</span></div>
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PRICES CHART</h3>
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U.S Consumer Price Index taking into account</div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-46519143401329262162017-03-20T16:48:00.000+01:002017-06-11T17:08:37.031+02:00general items<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-69369743947120785522016-12-22T13:48:00.000+01:002017-06-11T21:22:09.029+02:00Crouching figure, Sepik River<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8269EzFD64k/SU-NEH8qyuI/AAAAAAAAAJg/X7_-y6KJids/s1600-h/sepik+figure.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></a></span><br />
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<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>A figure from the Sepik river. Mid 19th cent.<br />
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-42435666553090138582016-06-18T10:23:00.002+02:002017-06-11T12:47:11.055+02:00Dimbo's - Old Glass Earrings from Geelvink Bay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Theodore Bruce</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Description:</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">A Collection of Ancient Glass Earrings,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> Geelvink Bay Area, West Papua; these glass earrings were collected on the Waropen Coast along the North Coast of West New Guinea, traditionally called "dimbo" in the local Warpoen language, they were an important type of traditional wealth used for bride price payments, other types of compensation payments and for goods, especially bird of paradise skins that Malay traders came to obtain by trading glass and metal objects. It is thought that this trade went over 2000 - 3000 years, in an archaeological dig in Lake Sentani they found "Dong Song" Bronze age axe heads, kettle drums and ancient glass ornaments. </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Some of these glass earrings are of great antiquity and are certainly based on the glass tear drop shaped ornaments from the "Dong Song " bronze age culture of Vietnam (1000 BC to 1 BC). </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">In the late 19th century people from Eastern Indonesia , brought forge and bellows technology to this area of New Guinea, this gave them a rudimentary metal working technique and also glass melting technology, which allowed them to make their own glass earrings from old bottles that were also highly valued trade items. </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">References for further reading: Plumes from Paradise by Dr Pamela Swaddling 1996 </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Gotham SSm A', 'Gotham SSm B', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">3 - 6.5 cm (35)</span></span></div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-91929493417006633202016-06-18T09:53:00.001+02:002016-06-18T09:53:35.164+02:00classifications<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">These are organised into four semantic or classificatory</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">zones: authentic masterpieces (in relation to the art museum/market and notions of</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">connoisseurship); authentic artefacts (typically describing the classification of objects as</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">material culture in many ethnographic museums); inauthentic masterpieces (such as</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">fakes, ready-made art objects); and inauthentic artefacts (such as tourist art and curio</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">collections) (see Figure 1)</span></div>
nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-29619685323847240812016-01-13T21:57:00.000+01:002016-01-13T21:57:01.158+01:00Aboriginal shield - La Grange Bay, Western Australia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="western" style="line-height: 0.61cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<tt class="western"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: 14pt;">Western
Australia. Eighty-Mile Beach area, Karrajarri (Karadjarri, Karadjeri)
people. Front engraving possibly from area between Broome and Fitzroy
River, North and East of Karajarri country. Narrow wooden shield
incised with interlocking key patterns. </span></span></tt></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r4CzYRJgHkk/Vpa4mFtegII/AAAAAAAAFuQ/8fGKyR6SYEs/s1600/20151222_150444_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r4CzYRJgHkk/Vpa4mFtegII/AAAAAAAAFuQ/8fGKyR6SYEs/s320/20151222_150444_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-reo1GZaHzQs/Vpa4mrQ-ZoI/AAAAAAAAFuY/OsAKIrhC-kU/s1600/20151222_150449_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-reo1GZaHzQs/Vpa4mrQ-ZoI/AAAAAAAAFuY/OsAKIrhC-kU/s320/20151222_150449_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Karajarri, who occupy the area along the Eighty-Mile Beach between the De Grey River and Broome call these shields </span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><i>karrbinna</i></span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> and carved them out of a type of eucalyptus. D. S. Davidson, then Associate Professor of Anthropology at the University of Washington, noted in 1949 that the Karajarri were responsible for most, if not all, examples of traditional shields incised with well-proportioned interlocking key patterns. They also used this and variations of the design on their pearl shell ornaments and </span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><i>tywerrenge</i></span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> (or </span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><i>churingas</i></span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> - sacred objects or amulets), although numerous other Aboriginal groups applied the design to their</span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><i>tywerrenge</i></span></span></tt><tt class="western" style="color: white; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> as well. These shields functioned as defensive arms to intercept boomerangs and to parry blows from clubs during close combat. The Karajarri later valued them as trade items which they exchanged with other peoples throughout the coastal areas from La Grange northward </span></span></tt><span style="color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">to Dampierland and King Sound.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9obvO7oT-G4/Vpa4rqtQx4I/AAAAAAAAFus/SmCV99PV0kg/s1600/20151222_150504_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9obvO7oT-G4/Vpa4rqtQx4I/AAAAAAAAFus/SmCV99PV0kg/s320/20151222_150504_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">The Karajarri engraved the back of their shields with precise patterns. Not having a larger design in mind, they treated the space as important in itself and often incised surfaces not covered by the interlocking pattern using alternate series of diagonal hatchings ... They carved the face of their shields with fine grooves but also, in more recent examples, simply adzed them to a smooth finish. The front of the shield on the right carries ten sections of etched meandering lines, patterns similar to those found on softwood objects from the region between the Fitzroy River and Broome. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KvUgminKSS0/Vpa4r_0G8zI/AAAAAAAAFuw/hMvRqcP3G4A/s1600/20151222_150512_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KvUgminKSS0/Vpa4r_0G8zI/AAAAAAAAFuw/hMvRqcP3G4A/s320/20151222_150512_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGGPsvHEo9w/Vpa4rVxS_wI/AAAAAAAAFuo/iez_RUfFGJw/s1600/20151222_150508_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGGPsvHEo9w/Vpa4rVxS_wI/AAAAAAAAFuo/iez_RUfFGJw/s320/20151222_150508_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IyVi3vUpe-s/Vpa4mdWtcpI/AAAAAAAAFuU/ZYs4YrKAH8A/s1600/20151222_150458_resized_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IyVi3vUpe-s/Vpa4mdWtcpI/AAAAAAAAFuU/ZYs4YrKAH8A/s320/20151222_150458_resized_1.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-62612043890494259272016-01-10T22:37:00.004+01:002017-06-11T12:55:42.218+02:00Kopar figures and topknots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I
collected this is the highlands, a few kilometres out from Mt. Hagen
going up into the mountains (very steep). We arrived in a small
village and then walked. After two or three villages it became alot
more remote and we could feel the reaction of people on the path, the
few that we met, change from interest into shock the further we
walked. In the second or third village, i forget now, we were
cautious and stated our interests. After lots of confused handshaking
and giggling girls we met the headmen. We were invited into their
quite large hut (for maybe two families,) incredibly qmokey and in
the centre under leaves and then hot rocks was some very well cooked
pig meat, greasy. We ate and talked with someone who had gone to
school in maount hagen as a go between. To shorten a long story. He
told me that this topknot had in it two or three spear tips that had
been collectedd from battles, those speartips that had pierced flesh
since they had proved themselves to be powerful. They were wrapped up
in this bundle which would be worn by a warrior on top of his head
with feathers coming out the top to protect him from arrows.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Reference ;
i have never been able to scan the thing so dont know if the story is
true or not onlly reference i can find is from . </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"> phototphototohootohptohptotphtphhptoh</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The
Pacific Islands, Africa, and the Americas</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-left: 0.05cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">By
Douglas Newton</span> ,
page 18 in regard to a sepik figure Kopar, A conical topknot was
formerly used as the support for a coronet of feathers.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-left: 0.05cm; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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_________________________________________________________</div>
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Statue, Kopar, Bas Sepik, Papouasie Nouvelle-Guinée</div>
<div class="lotdetail-subtitle" style="font-size: 14px; font-style: italic;">
FIGURE, KOPAR, LOWER SEPIK RIVER, PAPUA NEW GUINEA</div>
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<span class="range-from" data-range-from="15000" style="font-size: 13px;">15,000</span> — <span class="range-to" data-range-to="25000" style="font-size: 13px;">25,000</span></div>
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<strong style="display: inline-block; font-weight: bold;">Lot. Vendu</strong> 49,500 EUR <span class="curr-convert" data-orig-currency="EUR" data-price="49500"></span><strong class="lotdetail-hammer-price" style="display: inline-block; font-weight: bold; line-height: 13px; margin-left: 5px;">(Prix d’adjudication avec commission acheteur)</strong></div>
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<h1 id="Data-Title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility;">
New Guinea Headhunter</h1>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">A New Guinea headhunter in a woven topknot wears a suspicious expression.</span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: #1a1a1a; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "lucida grande" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif , "unicode ms"; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span></div>
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N° de la photo :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-CorbisId-Visible" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
HU050836</div>
</div>
<div class="row" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0px -20px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Photographiée le :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-DatePhotographed" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
1 mars 1924</div>
</div>
<div class="row" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0px -20px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
« Model Release » :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-ModelReleased" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
non disponible</div>
</div>
<div class="row" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0px -20px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Décharge de propriété :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-PropertyReleased" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
non disponible</div>
</div>
<div class="row" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0px -20px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Lieu :</div>
<div class="span5" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
<a class="linkable-detail" href="http://www.corbisimages.com/Search#lc=Papua+New+Guinea" id="Data-Location" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;">Papua New Guinea</span></a></div>
</div>
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<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Attribution :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-Credit" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
© Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS</div>
</div>
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<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Type de licence :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-LicenseType" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
Droits gérés (DG)</div>
</div>
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<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Catégorie :</div>
<div class="span5" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
<a class="linkable-detail" href="http://www.corbisimages.com/stock-photo/archival" id="Data-Category" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;">Histoire</span></a></div>
</div>
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<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Collection :</div>
<div class="span5" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
<a class="linkable-detail" href="http://www.corbisimages.com/stock-photos/collection/historical" id="Data-Collection" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;">Historical</span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="row" style="background-color: #1a1a1a; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'Unicode MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0px -20px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="span3" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 220px;">
Taille maximum du fichier :</div>
<div class="span5" id="Data-MaxFileSize" style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; width: 380px;">
8 Mo - 3444px × 2644px • 27,94cm × 20,32cm @ 300 ppp</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-25243105772306468122014-11-22T15:56:00.001+01:002014-12-10T17:00:10.995+01:00Trobriand axes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The first two are from my own collection the others are from private dealers or the Met. For further information there is a fantastic site - <a href="http://trobriandsindepth.com/">http://trobriandsindepth.com/</a><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRz5DyIIC0E/VHCdatepnjI/AAAAAAAAEQI/azn8VsMkvrg/s1600/massim%2Baxe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRz5DyIIC0E/VHCdatepnjI/AAAAAAAAEQI/azn8VsMkvrg/s1600/massim%2Baxe.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6UgjZWvs22I/VHCdbDKXMFI/AAAAAAAAEQQ/350iIFK5urI/s1600/trobriand%2Baxe%2B1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6UgjZWvs22I/VHCdbDKXMFI/AAAAAAAAEQQ/350iIFK5urI/s1600/trobriand%2Baxe%2B1.JPG" height="236" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3jEZEti4zf4/VHCdcOUs3_I/AAAAAAAAEQc/fyjH6YC5Jp4/s1600/trobriand%2Baxe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3jEZEti4zf4/VHCdcOUs3_I/AAAAAAAAEQc/fyjH6YC5Jp4/s1600/trobriand%2Baxe.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Mkn7lkfoc0/VHCd2qrjtqI/AAAAAAAAEQk/Kb9J5BaoWH8/s1600/MASSIM-AXE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Mkn7lkfoc0/VHCd2qrjtqI/AAAAAAAAEQk/Kb9J5BaoWH8/s1600/MASSIM-AXE2.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.5px; text-align: left;">Harry Beran Collection: Southern Massim Region presentation axe haft from Milne Bay province purchased by Beran at a Sydney auction. It was collected by a member of the Whitton Family who were traders on Samarai Island in the 19th century. The stone blade is not original. It is a replacement pre-1890 blade quarried on Woodlark Island and collected by Fred Gerrits. Length of axe 32 ½ inches/ 82.5 cm.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNS03-aV5Z8/VHCeslsquQI/AAAAAAAAEQs/QuV0rPAviqY/s1600/massim%2Btrade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNS03-aV5Z8/VHCeslsquQI/AAAAAAAAEQs/QuV0rPAviqY/s1600/massim%2Btrade.jpg" height="320" width="183" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 19.5px;">todd barlin, oceanic arts australia</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8NiKHXIKEw/VHCfiiUMcrI/AAAAAAAAERA/qXp_X3dBZ7c/s1600/hamson2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8NiKHXIKEw/VHCfiiUMcrI/AAAAAAAAERA/qXp_X3dBZ7c/s1600/hamson2.JPG" height="320" width="235" /></a></div>
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michael hamson</div>
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michael hamson</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5dXAmBJqZVA/VHCfi7T6zVI/AAAAAAAAEQ4/cJOQVKZ7KJo/s1600/met.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5dXAmBJqZVA/VHCfi7T6zVI/AAAAAAAAEQ4/cJOQVKZ7KJo/s1600/met.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></div>
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Ceremonial Axe</h2>
<div class="tombstone" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; font-family: SuisseLight, UrbanoLight, arial; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0.5px; line-height: 20.1499996185303px; margin: 20px 0px 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Date:</span> mid to late 19th century</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Geography:</span> Papua New Guinea, Massim region</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Culture:</span> Massim region</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Medium:</span> Wood, stone, fiber</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Dimensions:</span> W. 11 3/4 x D. 27 3/8 in. (29.9 x 69.5 cm)</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Classification:</span> Stone-Implements</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Credit Line:</span> The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979</div>
<div style="background: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #262626; font-family: SuisseSemiBold, UrbanoBold, arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Accession Number:</span> 1979.206.1526</div>
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</h2>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WQWGJXeoupo/VIhmUOocuwI/AAAAAAAAEXA/yQbRGhLYEY0/s1600/355px-Massim_man_with_sword_club%2C_axe_and_other_artefacts%2C_Trobriand_Islands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WQWGJXeoupo/VIhmUOocuwI/AAAAAAAAEXA/yQbRGhLYEY0/s1600/355px-Massim_man_with_sword_club%2C_axe_and_other_artefacts%2C_Trobriand_Islands.jpg" height="640" width="372" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, 'Nimbus Sans L', Arial, 'Liberation Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26.3999996185303px;">Massim man with sword club, axe and other artefacts, Trobriand Islands/Early real photo postcard, c 1910 (postally unused)</span></div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0Bordeaux, France44.837789 -0.5791799999999511844.656742 -0.90327649999995119 45.018836 -0.25508349999995117tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-76058079981396692672014-04-01T21:24:00.000+02:002017-06-11T13:57:47.352+02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img alt="" class="imgL" src="http://www.origineexpert.com/upload/fichiers/99/782.jpg" height="750" /><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="TabListe" style="width: 100%px;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="detail" rowspan="2" valign="top"><strong>782</strong><br />
<br />
Masque
de danse présentant un visage à l'arête nasale distendue maintenant un
ornement. Il est auréolé d'une structure en vannerie et cordelettes de
fibres végétales tressées. Bois, fibres végétales, écorce, ancienne
patine d'usage brune.<br />
Région du fleuve Ramu, Papouasie Nouvelle Guinée.<br />
38x21cm<br />
<br />
Estimation : 1200/1800</td>
<td class="detail" valign="bottom" width="300"><br /></td></tr>
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<td class="detail" height="80" valign="bottom"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="imgL" style="width: 100%px;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Maîtres Alain CASTOR & Laurent HARA<br />
<br />
<strong>dimanche 13, lundi 14 et mardi 15 avril 2014</strong><br />
Cabinet ORIGINE EXPERT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-61881840271418619622014-03-02T18:25:00.000+01:002017-06-11T13:17:20.441+02:00What Really Happened to Michael Rockefeller<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h1 class="headline" itemprop="name">
What Really Happened to Michael Rockefeller</h1>
<h2 class="subtitle">
A journey to the heart of New Guinea’s
Asmat tribal homeland sheds new light on the mystery of the heir’s
disappearance there in 1961</h2>
<div class="article-meta">
<div class="meta">
<div class="by-line">
By
<a class="author-name" href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/author/carl-hoffmann/" itemprop="author">
Carl Hoffmann
</a>
</div>
<div class="edition">
<span class="pub-edition">
Smithsonian Magazine
| <a href="https://subscribe.smithsonianmag.com/sub.php?idx=168&inetz=article-text-link&ipromo=%7Cperm%7Csub%7C2-free%7Ctext%7C%7Cblue%7C%7C">Subscribe</a>
<br />
</span>
<time class="pub-date" itemprop="published">March 2014</time>
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<div class="hidden-desktop">
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<div class="article-body pagination-first">
Asmat is, in its way, a perfect place. Everything you could
possibly need is here. It’s teeming with shrimp and crabs and fish and
clams. In the jungle there are wild pig, the furry, opossumlike cuscus,
and the ostrichlike cassowary. And sago palm, whose pith can be pounded
into a white starch and which hosts the larvae of the Capricorn beetle,
both key sources of nutrition. The rivers are navigable highways.
Crocodiles 15 feet long prowl their banks, and jet-black iguanas sun on
uprooted trees. There are flocks of brilliant red-and-green parrots.
Hornbills with five-inch beaks and blue necks.<br />
<div class="associated-container">
<h3 class="associated-header">
From This Story</h3>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<aside class="associated last">
This is an excerpt from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062116150/ref=as_li_ss_il?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0062116150&linkCode=as2&tag=smithsonianco-20"> Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art, by Carl Hoffman</a></i>.
Copyright (c) 2014 by Carl Hoffman. To be published on March 18, 2014,
by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by
permission.
</aside>
</div>
And secrets, spirits, laws and customs, born of men and women who
have been walled off by ocean, mountains, mud and jungle for longer
than anyone knows.<br />
Until 50 years ago, there were no wheels here. No steel or iron,
not even any paper. There’s still not a single road or automobile. In
its 10,000 square miles, there is but one airstrip, and outside of the
main “city” of Agats, there isn’t a single cell tower. Here it’s hard to
know where the water begins and the land ends, as the Arafura Sea’s
15-foot tides inundate the coast of southwest New Guinea, an invisible
swelling that daily slides into this flat swamp and pushes hard against
great outflowing rivers. It is a world of satiny, knee-deep mud and
mangrove swamps stretching inland, a great hydroponic terrarium.<br />
We were crossing the mouth of the Betsj River, a turbulent place
of incoming tide and outrushing water, when the waves slammed and our
30-foot longboat rolled. I crawled forward, reached under a plastic tarp
and fumbled blindly in my duffel for the Ziploc bag holding my
satellite phone, and slipped it into my pocket. I hadn’t wanted to bring
the phone, but at the last minute I’d thought how stupid it would be to
die for want of a call. If Michael Rockefeller had had a radio when his
catamaran overturned in this exact spot in 1961, he never would have
disappeared.<br />
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<figcaption class="caption">
The Rockefeller family (top: Michael is standing at the right).
<span class="credits">(Keystone / Hulton Archive / Getty Images)</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
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He was 23 years old, the privileged son of New York Gov. Nelson
Rockefeller, seven months into the adventure of a lifetime that had
transformed him from clean-cut student to bearded photographer and art
collector. One moment his boat was being tossed by the waves, just as
ours was, and the next he and his Dutch companion were clinging to an
overturned hull. And then Rockefeller had swum for shore and vanished.
No trace of him was ever found, despite a two-week search involving
ships, airplanes, helicopters and thousands of locals prowling the
coasts and jungle swamps. The fact that such a simple, banal thing had
happened to him made what was happening to us feel all the more real.
There would be no foreboding music. One bad wave and I’d be clinging to a
boat in the middle of nowhere.<br />
The official cause of Michael’s death was drowning, but there had long been a multitude of rumors. <i>He’d
been kidnapped and kept prisoner. He’d gone native and was hiding out
in the jungle. He’d been consumed by sharks. He’d made it to shore, only
to be killed and eaten by the local Asmat headhunters.</i> The story
had grown, become mythical. There had been an off-Broadway play about
him, a novel, a rock song, even a television show in the 1980s hosted by
Leonard Nimoy.<br />
I’d been fascinated with the story ever since I first saw a photo
of Michael on his first trip to what was then called Netherlands New
Guinea. In it he is kneeling, holding his 35-millimeter camera under the
close eyes of natives. He was working on a documentary film in the
highlands of the Great Baliem Valley. That film, <i>Dead Birds</i>,
was a groundbreaking ethnographic examination of a barely contacted,
stone-age culture that engaged in constant ritual warfare. The
mountains, the mist, the naked men yelling and screaming and attacking
one another with spears and bow and arrow, had fascinated and entranced
me, as had the whole idea of contact between people from dramatically
different worlds. In my 20s, I’d tried to get there, but it was too
expensive for my young budget, so instead I’d ended up, briefly, in
Borneo.<br />
I spent hours looking at that photo, wondering what Michael had
seen and felt, wondering what had really happened to him, wondering if I
might be able to solve the mystery. That he had been kidnapped or had
run away didn’t make sense. If he had drowned, well, that was that.
Except he’d been attached to flotation aids. As for sharks, they rarely
attacked men in these waters and no trace of him had been found. Which
meant that if he hadn’t perished during his swim, there had to be more.<br />
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/czONjbIMwGb9kirHi1x3cV7IG9Uwe7m8abVtv9gYA54yhMYS0_CQVNHIUAiIvwLyoQDo-nx5L6tElmqr9l_QwvkfcSz86BJTFUJgNd4v-nogshl-3zsrNKcUEoroJyPexdMaDBs6zh2IOnsxixHlPz9DgsluD1FfbKSaBUxQONtWFykXNJ8YmhUhacgCpTZVWrIOOACzE-id7kuuQ7i8M3vGWC81" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/ed/a4/eda4de45-2fcf-4f69-b316-7cb1063ab096/02-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a>There had to have been some collision, some colossal
misunderstanding. The Asmat people were warriors drenched in blood, but
Dutch colonial authorities and missionaries had already been in the area
for almost a decade by the time Michael disappeared, and the Asmat had
never killed a white. If he had been murdered, it struck to the heart of
a clash between Westerners and Others that had been ongoing ever since
Columbus first sailed to the New World. I found it compelling that in
this remote corner of the world the Rockefellers and their power and
money had been impotent, had come up with nothing. How was that even
possible?<br />
I started poking around in Dutch colonial archives and the
records of Dutch missionaries, and I found more than I’d ever imagined.
After the ships and planes and helicopters had gone home, a series of
new investigations took place. There were pages and pages of reports,
cables and letters discussing the case, sent by the Dutch government,
Asmat-speaking missionaries on the ground and Catholic Church
authorities—and most of it had never been made public. Men who had been
key participants in those investigations had remained silent for 50
years, but they were still alive and finally willing to talk.<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
On February 20, 1957, in a city of concrete and steel 6,000 times
bigger than the largest hamlet in Asmat, Nelson Rockefeller introduced
the world to a new kind of seeing. He was 49 years old, square-jawed and
ambitious, the grandson of Standard Oil founder John D. Rockefeller. At
the time of Nelson’s birth, which was announced on the front page of
the <i>New York Times</i>, John D. was the richest man on earth, with a
fortune estimated at $900 million. In two years, Nelson would become
the governor of New York. In 1960, he would run for the presidency. In
1974, he would become vice president of the United States.<br />
Inside a family-owned, four-story townhouse with elegantly
curving bay windows at 15 West 54th Street—just around the corner from
the Museum of Modern Art, which his mother, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller,
had helped found—guests began arriving at 8:30 p.m. to a private
reception heralding the first exhibit of the Museum of Primitive Art,
which would open to the public the following day. The things they were
celebrating came from a world away. A carved paddle from Easter Island.
The elongated, exaggerated face of a wooden mask from Nigeria.
Pre-Columbian Aztec and Mayan stone figures from Mexico. Around these
objects were no ethnographic dioramas, no depictions of African huts or
canoes and fishing nets. They rested atop stark white cylinders and
cubes, illuminated by track lighting against white walls. They were to
be viewed as works of art.<br />
Nelson was dressed in the height of New York tribal finery: black
tie. As the guests nibbled canapés and sipped wine, he told them that
his new museum was “the first...of its kind in the world”—dedicated
exclusively to primitive art. “We do not want to establish primitive art
as a separate kind of category,” he said, “but rather to integrate it,
with all its missing variety, into what is already known to the arts of
man. Our aim will always be to select objects of outstanding beauty
whose rare quality is the equal of works shown in other museums of art
throughout the world, and to exhibit them so that everyone may enjoy
them in the fullest measure.”<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/zx4Gi9IktS6u4H6SPugg2pIGINv-SvxzqbpkHsZMG-v8r8-TOgAh_TdgWZmE7L9HpO-9s7KjxzCcBlW_ij-WyUOq_BfrkkxO4Pu9iI19lZVM9eNCalsVFKwWwqNg_1ElsKJMbrzH7zbYC6MB5z5JnYoYBoYSaYYeD6LOu_myzwc-3GxtUK0dWOQvY8I31rYIqphRY1jJ_kyG7Mf_9QZq5JBY9ST6" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/73/30/73302273-9a58-45b8-8117-ebba06079093/09-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a>Michael Rockefeller was just 18 years old that night, and it’s
easy to imagine the power the event had for him. His father’s pride over
the new museum, the exotic beauty and pull of the objects, the cream of
New York’s elite admiring them. Michael was tall and slender,
clean-shaven and square-jawed like his father, with thick, black-rimmed
glasses. He’d grown up with his two sisters and two brothers in the
family townhouse in Manhattan and on the Rockefeller estate in
Westchester County. As Abby Rockefeller had done with Nelson, so Nelson
did with Michael, schooling him in art the way other boys were schooled
in baseball, taking him to art dealers on Saturday afternoons. His twin
sister, Mary, remembered how they loved to watch their father rearrange
his art.<br />
As he neared the end of his four years at Harvard, Michael was,
in the words of a friend, “a quiet, artistic spirit.” And he was torn.
His father expected his son to be like him—to pursue a career in one of
the family enterprises, banking or finance, and indulge his artistic
passions on the side. Michael graduated cum laude from Harvard with a
B.A. in history and economics, but he yearned for something else. He’d
traveled widely, working on his father’s ranch in Venezuela for a
summer, visiting Japan in 1957, and he’d been surrounded not just by
art, but by primitive art. And how could he make his “primitive
art”-collecting father prouder than by going to its source and plunging
in deeper than the forceful governor and presidential candidate had ever
dreamed?<br />
At Harvard he met the filmmaker Robert Gardner, who was beginning work on <i>Dead Birds</i>,
and signed on as the sound engineer. “Mike was very quiet and very
modest,” said Karl Heider, who as a Harvard graduate student in
anthropology had shared a tent on the 1961 film expedition with him. In
the evenings, Heider was astonished to see the wealthiest member of the
team darning his socks.<br />
But Michael was ambitious, too. “Michael’s father had put him on
the board of his museum,” Heider told me, “and Michael said he wanted to
do something that hadn’t been done before and to bring a major
collection to New York.” He had already corresponded with Adrian
Gerbrands, deputy director of the Dutch National Museum of Ethnology,
who’d recently begun fieldwork in Asmat. The region was home to people
who lived as hunter-gatherers and yet produced carvings of astounding
beauty. “Asmat,” Heider said, “was the obvious choice.”<br />
Michael made a scouting trip there during a mid-May break in
filming. Only in the mid-1950s had a few Dutch missionaries and
government officials begun pacifying the Asmat, but even by 1961 many
had never seen a Westerner, and inter-village warfare and headhunting
remained common. “Now this is wild and somehow more remote country than
what I have ever seen before,” Michael wrote. In many ways, the Asmat
world at the time was a mirror image of every taboo of the West. In some
areas, men had sex with each other. They occasionally shared wives. In
bonding rituals, they sometimes drank one another’s urine. They killed
their neighbors, and they hunted human heads and ate human flesh.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/NABGYxrgLan9IFpqTMfjtidjNZzoH8YD4biDxFlJZOPmjklTiDU5466AIRAmFrrJ5Eyh3gYqlI4l6nN085gXiGrITTB42LSxiw8jDQMBaOtjCfEBwdIvS7xuikBwBMmqv4FREN7Q82noIxERlpKHBkkfODitgs4JP_H42gh_wZnYcbZ_KrRv0f-FUsYvJwulKv8pAMwdBvT4Vq-0Aq9YzUnWaJGu" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/9b/16/9b1694fe-5854-48a3-bd81-98b418ffe1ae/08-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/td6ovBhdscGB-o5QCBK24vKVGzLluTtgQ-ZZnkZBQI7W7D7J2ylg9EdFQHzsoYDLwSbLois-e-ZHfSZvkFP4W2K4fCWX6oS85McNDGriH_rDWpzy6B3Ftd3OQRbRPdJfQ4QMcbXc2Rl3PklgqXtwOS_LcRq-tso_OqNSfvDDcYar0eQWjqWZFP95pbKS78Wgi-FPknWU6Cjk3PlfnmQneg5514v9" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/5e/3b/5e3b4d6b-5b18-4ba9-be79-0f1cff21ea0e/06-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a>They weren’t savages, however, but biologically modern men with
all the brainpower and manual dexterity necessary to fly a 747, with a
language so complex it had 17 tenses, whose isolated universe of trees,
ocean, river and swamp constituted their whole experience. They were
pure subsistence hunter-gatherers who lived in a world of
spirits—spirits in the rattan and in the mangrove and sago trees, in the
whirlpools, in their own fingers and noses. Every villager could see
them, talk to them. There was their world, and there was the kingdom of
the ancestors across the seas, known as Safan, and an in-between world,
and all were equally real. No death just <i>happened</i>; even
sickness came at the hand of the spirits because the spirits of the dead
person were jealous of the living and wanted to linger and cause
mischief. The Asmat lived in a dualistic world of extremes, of life and
death, where one balanced the other. Only through elaborate sacred
feasts and ceremonies and reciprocal violence could sickness and death
be kept in check by appeasing and chasing those ancestors back to Safan,
back to the land beyond the sea.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/9IpQye2YY_NTTFws4hTZw_h8ARFCjCkuQHDO8Bx5zGlHjgy-Ic2l6i3M9APRYNL-49fUjREOzFj0vDtV0EBllnDp2z0v7L7PzyMN0GEpHJ67GdGRgPs-5qimnqO00xt65q_Hh9sJASoP-qOu41BGIWD6URZAlXprURZfqJvIN55MvgET3TOE8WoudQIgnENPzFzQ2Ph6ca8--w9UA45I93ixuckT" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/3b/0f/3b0f30ca-038a-4288-92c0-bc5361a5cd82/07-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Expert woodcarvers in a land without stone, the Asmat crafted ornate shields, paddles, drums, canoes and ancestor poles, called <i>bisj</i>,
embodying the spirit of an ancestor. The bisj poles were 20-foot-high
masterpieces of stacked men interwoven with crocodiles and praying
mantises and other symbols of headhunting. The poles were haunting,
expressive, alive, and each carried an ancestor’s name. The carvings
were memorial signs to the dead, and to the living, that their deaths
had not been forgotten, that the responsibility to avenge them was still
alive.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<figure class="article-image">
<span data-alt="Map of the Asmat Cultural Region." data-picture="">
<span data-src="http://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/c4/83/c4835315-59a7-4313-b8ee-8d4a8a25266a/michael-rockefeller-asmat-map.jpg__420x240_q85_crop_upscale.jpg"></span>
<span data-media="(min-width: 480px)" data-src="http://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/c4/83/c4835315-59a7-4313-b8ee-8d4a8a25266a/michael-rockefeller-asmat-map.jpg__720x420_q85_crop_upscale.jpg"></span>
<span data-media="(min-width: 600px)" data-src="http://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/c4/83/c4835315-59a7-4313-b8ee-8d4a8a25266a/michael-rockefeller-asmat-map.jpg__800x450_q85_crop_upscale.jpg"><img alt="Map of the Asmat Cultural Region." height="180" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/c4/83/c4835315-59a7-4313-b8ee-8d4a8a25266a/michael-rockefeller-asmat-map.jpg__800x450_q85_crop_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></span>
</span>
<figcaption class="caption">
Map of the Asmat Cultural Region.
<span class="credits">(Guilbert Gates)</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
The Asmat saw themselves in the trees—just as a man had feet and
legs and arms and a head, so did the sago tree, which had roots and
branches and a fruit, a seed on top. Just as the fruit of the sago tree
nourished new trees, so the fruit of men, their heads, nourished young
men. They all knew some version of the story of the first brothers in
the world, one of the Asmat creation myths, in which the older brother
cajoles the younger into killing him and placing his head against the
groin of a young man. The skull nourishes the initiate’s growth, even as
he takes the victim’s name and becomes him. It was through that story
that men learned how to headhunt and how to butcher a human body and how
to use that skull to make new men from boys and to keep life flowing
into the world.<br />
The completion of a bisj pole usually unleashed a new round of
raids; revenge was taken and balance restored, new heads obtained—new
seeds to nourish the growth of boys into men—and the blood of the
victims rubbed into the pole. The spirit in the pole was made complete.
The villagers then engaged in sex, and the poles were left to rot in the
sago fields, fertilizing the sago and completing the cycle.<br />
Anything outside of the tangible immediacy of what the Asmats
could see had to come from that spirit world—it was the only
comprehensible explanation. An airplane was <i>opndettaji</i>—a
passing-over-canoe-of-the-spirits. White men came from the land beyond
the sea, the same place the spirits lived, and so must be super beings.<br />
Michael did not plunge into this realm a lone adventurer; he was a
Rockefeller, not to mention a trustee of the Museum of Primitive Art.
His traveling party included, among others, Gerbrands and René Wassing, a
government anthropologist assigned to him from the Dutch New Guinea
Department of Native Affairs.<br />
Michael’s field notes from his first trip to Asmat and the
letters he wrote reveal a deepening seriousness regarding his
collecting. Before his second expedition, he laid out “objectives;
themes of investigation; criterion for stylistic variation.” He wanted
to produce books and mount the biggest exhibition of Asmat art ever.<br />
Michael returned to Asmat in October 1961. Wassing joined him
again and in Agats he badgered a Dutch patrol officer into selling him
his homemade catamaran, into which Michael stuffed a wealth of barter
goods—steel axes, fishing hooks and line, cloth and tobacco, to which
the Asmats had become addicted. He and Wassing, accompanied by two Asmat
teenagers, visited 13 villages over three weeks.<br />
Michael collected everywhere he went and in quantity, loading up
on drums, bowls, bamboo horns, spears, paddles, shields. He was most
impressed by the bisj poles. With no sense of irony, he wrote: “This was
one kind of object that seemed to me inviolate for the encroachment of
western commercialism upon Asmat art.” In the southern village of
Omadesep he’d bought a set of four on his first trip; they now stand in
the Michael C. Rockefeller Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which
absorbed the collections of the Museum of Primitive Art after it closed
in 1976.<br />
In mid-November, Michael and his companions returned to Agats to
stock up on supplies for another month. They set out again on November
17, intending to motor down the Arafura Sea coast to southern Asmat, an
area that remained wild, unacculturated and known well by a single
priest, Cornelius van Kessel, with whom Michael planned to rendezvous.
As they began to cross the mouth of the Betsj River, conflicting tides
and winds whipped up waves and crosscurrents. Water that had been gentle
one minute was heaving the next. A wave drowned their outboard and the
catamaran began to drift; then the waves capsized it.<br />
The two teenagers, born on the rivers, jumped in and swam for the
nearby shore. Long out of Michael and Wassing’s sight, they made it;
after trudging through the mud for hours, they summoned help in Agats
that evening.<br />
While the Dutch colonial government scrambled ships, airplanes
and helicopters to search for them, Michael and Wassing spent a long
night clinging to an overturned hull. After dawn on November 19, Michael
told Wassing he was worried they’d drift into the open sea. Around 8
o’clock that morning, he stripped to his undershorts, tied two empty
jerrycans to his belt for buoyancy, and set out on a swim he estimated
would be three to ten miles to the dim shoreline.<br />
That was the last anyone knew of Michael Rockefeller. Wassing was
spotted from the air that afternoon and rescued the next morning.<br />
As the search for Michael spun into high gear, Nelson and Mary
Rockefeller chartered a Boeing 707 and filled it with reporters, who
grew in number when they landed in Merauke, 150 miles to the southeast
of Asmat. But they were far from Asmat itself; they were there but not
there, they could do little but wait helplessly and hold newsless press
conferences. On November 24, the Dutch minister of the interior told the
<i>New York Times</i>,<br />
“There is no longer any hope of finding Michael Rockefeller alive.”<br />
The Rockefellers clung to the idea that he might have made it to
shore, and a Dutch official in New Guinea supported that hope: “If
Michael reached shore there is a good chance of survival,” he said. “The
natives, although uncivilized, are very kind and will always help you.”<br />
On November 28, nine days after Michael had swum away, his father
and sister flew home. After two more weeks, the Dutch called off the
search.<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
Five of us—Wilem, my boat pilot; Amates, my interpreter; and
their assistants and I—had been working our way down the Asmat coast for
five days. The region is now nominally Catholic, headhunting is a thing
of the past and the villages we visited felt as if they’d been stripped
of something, as if some reason for being was gone. In the village of
Basim, children played wildly, rambunctiously, loudly, climbing palm
trees and covering themselves with mud and jumping into the brown river.
But if the adults weren’t out fishing or gathering sago, they sat
around, listless. I didn’t see carvings anywhere. Basim’s <i>jeu</i>—its
ceremonial men’s house, the seat of Asmat spiritual life and warrior
culture, the place where the worlds of the dead and the living came
together—was magnificent in the way they all were, long and huge and
tied together entirely with rattan, nail-less. But it was empty and
crumbling.<br />
Amates arranged for us to stay in the schoolmaster’s house, four
bare rooms. That night we were sitting on the floor when a man walked
in. He was small, 5 feet 7 and 140 pounds or so, with a prominent jaw, a
big nose and deep-set eyes. Veins popped from his neck and his temples.
He had a hole in his septum, in which he could wear a shell or pig-bone
ornament if he chose. His T-shirt was stained, dotted with small holes.
A woven bag adorned with cockatoo feathers and seeds from a Job’s tears
plant hung from his neck across his chest. He had quick, darting eyes
and spoke fast in a voice that sounded like gravel rolling across glass.<br />
“This is Kokai,” Amates said. “He is my elder brother, my papa,
the head man from Pirien,” meaning an ex-chief in a village called
Pirien. “He has a new wife in Basim, so he’s here a lot.” Kokai sat down
on the floor with us, and Amates brought out tobacco and rolling
papers. I hadn’t mentioned anything to Amates about what I was after,
but it felt like too good an opportunity: Pirien had broken away from a
village called Otsjanep (OCH-an-ep), where the paper trail involving
Michael led.<br />
“How old is he?” I asked Amates.<br />
They talked, I waited. “He doesn’t know,” Amates said, “but maybe in his 60s.”<br />
"Does he remember a story about a Dutch raid, men being killed?”<br />
Amates spoke to Kokai with a long-winded indirectness, a simple
question taking ten minutes to ask. Kokai looked at me. Rolled a
cigarette, a long one, using two pieces of rolling paper. The
candlelight flickered. My legs ached from the hard wooden floor. Kokai
started talking.<br />
“He remembers,” Amates said. “He was a child, and he saw it.”<br />
On it went, a disjointed swirl of story, Amates pausing to
translate. The Asmat, living without TV or film or recording media of
any kind, are splendid storytellers. Kokai pantomimed the pulling of a
bow. He slapped his thighs, his chest, his forehead, then swept his
hands over his head, illustrating the back of his head blowing off. His
eyes went big to show fright; he showed running with his arms and
shoulders, then slinking, creeping into the jungle. I heard the names
Faratsjam, Osom, Akon, Samut and Ipi—names I already knew from
typewritten pages in a dusty Dutch archive, and the prologue to
Michael’s disappearance came to life.<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
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<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/proxy/ueHueGYqn7sIvMRDiew8qIRzn54l4v3e_6kZ0ouKL4By824jLzKh2uylzJGlAEjwoF6HtbXD6gKHwVKeG7K7xafmQhjlcfLY6JeHiM4V1JI8zFtfYd6k1YtVHaSwa01880f-sp4g9SuriQcG4Mh0UxZoFtVsnqWGcDz_qqf7x7xY8VdD9neWWOaTAToAAz5GfqIgbdMMAAi3j4onQ29Kg7ggm_Ps" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/dc/12/dc1294d1-771c-41cf-991a-fb7fc7f46558/11-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
A few months after Nelson Rockefeller opened the Museum of
Primitive Art, Otsjanep and a nearby village, Omadesep (o-MAD-e-sep),
engaged in a mutual massacre. They were powerful villages, each more
than a thousand strong, on parallel rivers only a few hours paddle
apart, and they were enemies—in fact, they had been tricking and killing
each other for years. But they were also connected, as even
antagonistic Asmat villages usually are, by marriage and death, since
the killer and victim became the same person.<br />
In September 1957, the leader of one of Omadesep’s jeus convinced
six men from Otsjanep to accompany a flotilla of warriors down the
coast in pursuit of dogs’ teeth, objects of symbolic and monetary value
to the Asmat. In a tangled story of violence, the men from Omadesep
turned on their traveling companions from Otsjanep, killing all but one.
The survivor crawled home through miles of jungle to alert his fellow
warriors, who then counterattacked. Of the 124 men who had set out, only
11 made it home alive.<br />
A murder here, a murder there could be overlooked, but for Max
Lepré, the new Dutch government controller in southern Asmat, such
mayhem was too much. A man whose family had been colonists in Indonesia
for hundreds of years, who had been imprisoned by the Japanese and then
the Indonesians after World War II, Lepré was an old-school colonial
administrator determined to teach the Asmat “a lesson.” On January 18,
1958, he led a force of officers to Omadesep, confiscated as many
weapons as they could find, and burned canoes and at least one jeu.<br />
Otsjanep wasn’t so pliable. Three Papuan policemen sent with
gifts of a Dutch flag and some steel axes returned quickly. The men of
Otsjanep wanted nothing to do with the government and were willing “to
use violence to make themselves clear,” Lepré would write in his
official report. “The Dutch flag was not accepted.”<br />
While Father van Kessel, who traveled by native canoe and
decorated himself as the Asmat did, with cockatoo feathers and stripes
of ocher and black ash, had always been warmly received in Otsjanep,
Lepré feared the Asmat, and his fear was self-fulfilling. He headed for
the village with an armed, reinforced police contingent and arrived on
February 6 in a pelting rain. The clearing was thick with men, but Lepré
noted seeing no women, children or dogs—“always a bad sign.” Word
traveled fast in the jungle; the villagers knew what had happened in
Omadesep. But they were confused. What to do?<br />
On the left a group approached—in capitulation, Lepré believed.
But on the right stood a group armed with bows and arrows and spears and
shields. Lepré looked left, he looked right, equally unsure what to do.
Behind the houses a third group of men broke into what he described as
“warrior dances.” Lepré and a force of police scrambled onto the left
bank, and another force took the right.<br />
“Come out,” Lepré yelled, through interpreters, “and put down your weapons!”<br />
A man came out of a house bearing something in his hand, and he
ran toward Lepré. Then, pandemonium: Shots rang out from all directions.
Faratsjam was hit in the head, and the rear of his skull blew off. Four
bullets ripped into Osom—his biceps, both armpits and his hip. Akon
took shots to the midsection, Samut to the chest. Ipi’s jaw vanished in a
bloody instant. The villagers would remember every detail of the bullet
damage, so shocking it was to them, the violence so fast and ferocious
and magical to people used to hand-to-hand combat and wounding with
spear or arrow. The Asmat panicked and bolted into the jungle.<br />
“The course of affairs is certainly regrettable,” Lepré wrote.
“But on the other hand it has become clear to them that headhunting and
cannibalism is not much appreciated by a government institution all but
unknown to them, with which they had only incidental contact. It is
highly likely that the people now understand that they would do better
not to resist authorities.”<br />
In fact, it was highly unlikely that they had reached any such
understanding. For the Asmat, Max Lepré’s raid was a shocking,
inexplicable thing, the cosmos gone awry. They built their entire lives
around appeasing and deceiving and driving away spirits, and yet now
this white man who might even be a spirit himself had come to kill them
for doing what they had always done. The Dutch government? It was a
meaningless concept to them.<br />
And what of the spirits of the five men Lepré’s officers had
killed? They were out there, wandering around, causing mischief,
haunting the village, making people sick, as real in death as they were
in life. The world was out of balance. How to explain it? How to right
it?<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
The entrance to the river leading to Otsjanep was so narrow I
never would have noticed it from offshore. Wilem motored slowly, and I
imagined Max Lepré here, his heart beating against his chest, armed and
ready, and I imagined the Asmat watching him come, these strange men
with their metal boat and their guns.<br />
A stream of canoes slipped past us, heading to the sea, some with
women and children, some with men standing, their paddles dipping and
stroking in perfect time with one another. We stopped first in Pirien, a
quarter-mile downriver from Otsjanep; it had originally been one of
five jeus in Otsjanep, but had broken away sometime after Michael
disappeared. We were barely inside a two-room wooden house when men
started appearing. One. Two. Five. Soon I counted 40 squeezed into the
sweltering, furniture-less room, crowds of boys peering in through the
windows. We sat on the floor, a sea of faces and sweating bodies and
flies, staring, waiting.<br />
Amates, my Asmat guide and interpreter, brought out the tobacco
and passed pouches of it and rolling papers to the elders, who passed
mounds of the brown weed around the room. Soon we were enveloped in
smoke. Amates talked, the men nodded. Some introduced themselves. I was
uncertain why they were here. They didn’t ask me anything, but they
seemed to want to see me, and they wanted the tobacco I’d brought, but I
was never quite sure I understood everything Amates was saying.<br />
When I asked about Lepré’s raid they grew quiet. More than 50
years had passed, but the memory of that morning was still too vivid to
recall for a stranger. Amates suggested we take a break and head upriver
to Otsjanep itself. The river twisted and wound, and then the trees
cleared. On the left bank, there was nothing but thatch huts and mud,
smoke and a few banana trees and coconut palms. Crowds of people sat on
porches, watching us. We pulled up to the bank, climbed over canoes and
over branches and log walkways, Amates talking to the crowd. Children
gathered, pressing close.<br />
The vibe was strange. No one moved. If I’d been a cat, my fur
would have been standing up. I looked at people and they looked back,
but there was no recognition, no welcome. No one shook my hand. No one
invited us in. I asked Amates to ask if anyone knew about Lepré and his
raid, or even had been a witness to it.<br />
Faces were blank, emotionless. A few people said a few words. “They
don’t remember anything,” Amates said. “They don’t know anything about
this.”<br />
We climbed back into the boat and returned to the wooden house in
Pirien. It was late afternoon. Dogs yelped and fought. Children played
on the boardwalks, but I couldn’t see any adults anywhere. I couldn’t
keep the flies off my face, my eyes, my nostrils. They were starting to
make me feel crazy.<br />
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“They are very afraid,” Amates said, apropos of nothing.<br />
“Afraid?” I said. “Of what?”<br />
“There was a tourist who died here,” he said. “An American
tourist named—” and the name he said was garbled. I couldn’t understand
it. This was news to me. In all I’d read, I’d never heard of an American
tourist dying in Asmat.<br />
“When?” I said. “What was his name?”<br />
Amates’ English was slow, the words hard to comprehend no matter
what he said. He said the name again, and then again, more slowly, and
it was a hard name for an Asmat to pronounce, but this time it was
unmistakable: “Michael Rockefeller.”<br />
I had never told Amates that I was investigating Michael’s
disappearance, only that I was a journalist writing about Asmat and its
history. I had never so much as mentioned his name.<br />
“Michael Rockefeller?” I asked, feigning ignorance.<br />
“Yes, Michael Rockefeller,” Amates said. “He was an American. He
was here in Otsjanep. They are very, very afraid. They do not want to
talk about this.”<br />
“How did his name come up?” I asked.<br />
“They told me,” he said. “Today, when we were talking, they are
afraid you are here to ask about Michael Rockefeller. And they are
afraid.”<br />
“Why?”<br />
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“Otsjanep killed him. Everyone knows it.”<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
In December 1961, a month after Michael disappeared, a Dutch
Catholic priest named Hubertus von Peij traveled to Omadesep, which lay
at the southern end of his parish. Von Peij had spent years in Asmat,
and he knew the people and language well. He told me about his journey
when I met him one cold winter’s night in Tilburg, the Netherlands, in
2012. He was alive and well at age 84, living in a small apartment
decorated with a few Asmat carvings.<br />
As he sat in a missionary’s house in Omadesep, four men walked
in. Two were from Otsjanep, two from Omadesep. They had something they
wanted to tell the priest.<br />
Bit by bit, it spilled out. The day Michael had set off from the
catamaran, 50 men from Otsjanep had brought palm building supplies to
the government post in Pirimapun, about 20 miles south of Otsjanep.
They’d traveled at night, spent the day in the village, and then left
for the night-long voyage home; at dawn on November 20, they’d paused at
the mouth of the Ewta River, three miles downriver from Otsjanep,
waiting for the tide to turn. It was a good time to have a smoke and a
bite of sago. Something moved in the water. They saw a crocodile—an <i>ew</i>, in the Asmat language. No. It wasn’t a crocodile, but a<i> tuan</i>,
a white man. He was swimming on his back. He turned and waved. One of
the Asmat said: “People of Otsjanep, you’re always talking about
headhunting tuans. Well, here’s your chance.” An argument ensued.
Dombai, the leader of the Pirien jeu, didn’t think he should be killed.
Ajim and Fin thought otherwise. While they tried to lift the tuan into a
canoe, Pep speared him in the ribs. It wasn’t fatal. They rowed him to a
hidden creek, the Jawor River, where they killed him and made a big
fire.<br />
“Was he wearing glasses?” von Peij asked. “What kind of clothes was he wearing?”<br />
Their answer burned in his memory: The white man was wearing
shorts, but shorts they’d never seen before and that you couldn’t buy in
Asmat—shorts that ended high up on his legs and had no pockets.
Underpants.<br />
Von Peij nodded. “Where is his head?”<br />
“<i>Fin-tsjem aotepetsj ara</i>,” they said. “It hangs in the house of Fin. And it looked so small, like the head of a child.”<br />
“What about his thigh bones?” said von Peij, who knew they were
used as daggers. “And his tibia?” He knew they were used as the points
of fishing spears.<br />
Pep had one thigh bone, Ajim the other. A man named Jane had one
tibia, Wasan the other. On the list went: who had his upper arms,
forearms, ribs, shorts, glasses, a total of 15 men.<br />
“Why did they kill him?” he said. Because of the killings in Otsjanep almost four years earlier, they said—the Lepré raid.<br />
Von Peij felt overwhelmed. The details, especially the description of Michael’s underwear, were too concrete not to credit.<br />
A few days later, he wrote a note to his superior in Agats:
“Without having the intention of doing so, I stumbled across information
and I feel compelled to report this. Michael Rockefeller has been
picked up and killed by Otsjanep. [The villages of] Jow, Biwar and
Omadesep are all clearly aware of it.” He also notified the regional
government controller.<br />
Cornelius van Kessel, the priest Michael had been traveling to
meet, had also been hearing things. He met with von Peij, sent his Asmat
assistant to the village to quiz the warriors there, brought a handful
to Basim to interrogate them himself, and on December 15, wrote a long
report to the controller. “After my conversation with Father von Peij,
the one percent of doubt I had has been taken by the very detailed data
which matched with my data and inspections. “IT IS CERTAIN THAT MICHAEL
ROCKEFELLER WAS MURDERED AND EATEN BY OTSJANEP,” he wrote in all caps.
“This was revenge for the shooting four years ago.” Van Kessel spelled
it all out. Names. Who had which body parts.<br />
Less than a month after Michael disappeared—and within two weeks
after they called off the search for him—Dutch authorities had von
Peij’s and van Kessel’s reports.<br />
On December 21, the governor of Dutch New Guinea cabled the Dutch
minister of the interior. The cable is marked “secret” and “destroy,”
but part of it remains in the Dutch government archives in the Hague. It
outlines what the two priests reported and says:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>In my opinion some reservations need to be made. No evidence has
been found yet and therefore there is no certainty yet. In this
connection it doesn’t seem germane to me to give information to the
press or Rockefeller senior at this time.</i></blockquote>
<div align="center">
***</div>
Both priests had lived in Asmat for years. Both spoke the local
language. And both were sure the story they’d heard was accurate. Van
Kessel wanted to alert Michael’s family, even travel to the United
States to speak with them. But in a series of letters church authorities
warned von Peij and van Kessel that the issue was “like a cabinet of
glass” and to keep silent, so “the mission will not fall from grace with
the population,” and soon shipped van Kessel back to Holland. The Dutch
government, engaged in a struggle with Indonesia and the United States
to retain its last colony in the east, a policy predicated on presenting
Papua as a civilized, smoothly functioning semi-independent entity,
said nothing. When the Associated Press reported in March 1962 that
Michael had been killed and eaten, based on a letter a third Dutch
priest in Asmat had written to his parents, Nelson Rockefeller contacted
the Dutch Embassy in the U.S., which contacted the Hague. Joseph Luns,
the minister of foreign affairs himself, responded. The rumors had been
thoroughly investigated, he said, and there was nothing to them.<br />
In fact, the Dutch government investigation was just beginning.
Officials dispatched a young Dutch patrol officer named Wim van de
Waal—the very man who had sold Michael Rockefeller his catamaran. In
1962, van de Waal moved to Otsjanep to begin a long, slow process that
would take three months.<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/b6XvX4T5Vx7vSL2V_xyi_EmSD2aisj_cGgKAZ1AvYgoaf9mlGmfnUHMhDptJx-2hewB8d295YR_ApUGREeHjvYYPFa-0GhMmxZScZtCi8uPdhQcWqpTYGww0SB4M-l3PY5m_lpPqAMHZfZLT0TknlSMYrT8BB-Ryx43u5jPoeKyUfzp_-_rn-ZCulNR9e3MR5PZFzYWjuSggWzPmt1H_dxvIIl0E" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/fd/36/fd369d7d-0122-4bf1-9c97-a87bce52c74d/17-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a>“The Asmat in Otsjanep didn’t understand why I was there,” he
told me in 2012, around the dining table in his home on the Spanish
island of Tenerife, where he’s lived since 1968. He, too, was well, at
age 73. “It was a complicated village, and they feel like talking about
these things brings them bad luck.” Bit by bit he quizzed them about
battles and raids and finally it spilled out—a story that differed
little from the one von Peij had heard.<br />
Van de Waal asked for proof, knowing the Dutch government would
take no action without it. Some men took him into the jungle, dug in the
muck and produced a skull and bones, the skull bearing no lower jaw and
a hole in the right temple—the hallmarks of remains that had been
headhunted and opened to consume the brains.<br />
He handed the remains over to Dutch authorities, but it was now
June 1962 and global politics intervened. “The political situation was
becoming awkward,” van de Waal said; the Dutch were about to lose their
half of New Guinea to newly independent Indonesia. Van de Waal’s
superiors recalled him from the village. “I was never asked to make a
report of my time in Otsjanep,” he said, and in meetings with higher
officials “we never, ever, touched upon my investigation.” No records in
the Dutch government archives mention it, though van de Waal’s story is
corroborated in the memoirs of van Kessel’s replacement, a priest named
Anton van de Wouw.<br />
<div align="center">
***</div>
Home after two months in Asmat, I was still riddled with
questions. The stories I’d heard were all secondhand; everyone in Asmat
“knew” the men in Otsjanep had killed Michael, but none of them there or
in Pirien had admitted the killing to me. Only one man, the nephew of
Pep, the man who’d allegedly speared Michael, had told me a detailed
version of the story, and he’d been raised in another village.
Furthermore, there was a question of reliability: The Asmat depended on
deception to gain advantage over their enemies, to elude and placate the
spirits; accounts of their saying whatever whites wanted to hear were
abundant. Maybe the priests and the patrol officer wanted to believe the
Asmat had killed and eaten Michael. It certainly strengthened their
case for evangelizing and modernizing them. And despite so many weeks in
Asmat, I’d only visited Pirien and Otsjanep twice, once for 24 hours
and once for four days, and always with a retinue of translators and
hangers-on. Michael’s notes on his travels had left me with the
impression that he had embraced the Asmat without understanding them,
and I wondered if I’d been guilty of the same thing, trying to obtain
their deepest secrets without taking the time to know them.<br />
I decided I had to go back, and to go deeper. Back in the United
States, I studied Bahasa Indonesian, which has been rapidly supplanting
the Asmats’ native language. Seven months later, I returned to Asmat. I
wanted a much better understanding of Asmat culture and in particular
Otsjanep’s village structure: who the men Lepré had killed were, and how
they were related to the men named in van Kessel’s and von Peij’s
reports.<br />
Back in Agats I ran into Kokai, who was there visiting his son.
For the first time we could speak directly to each other, and I felt a
veil had been lifted. He invited me back to Pirien to live with him for a
month.<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/oYNDFxnJnHA8EbfOWXYD2eV7p25cjas_nPu_nSzyKxYESGkjmPLGfWR8nY2yZCCgyxJBGLJ7Xaf6XinV8dpZ6qMnAENR0-qqa_APIQUY-84Osu0AFh2k15IwHaCaRf32hLxouzuwIrorhbCWfyoAuXd0CbaPHhiTKY4a37gjaX7CHjiLtOwfpWOWgv0SK19UR6ZvUV1TGpGmt9CrZN1fsMKAcDwx" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://thumbs.media.smithsonianmag.com//filer/81/09/810974b8-7fde-4967-bbfe-5eb5afbc1583/05-michael-rockefeller-asmat.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale.jpg" width="320" /></a>His house was three rooms without furniture, its bare walls gray
with years of dirt, soot, grime, its floors covered with traditional
handwoven palm mats, in a village without power, plumbing, even a single
store. In a corner stood spears, a bow and set of arrows, and
six-foot-high shields, all carved by Kokai. This time, everything was
different. I spoke their language and alone, without Amates or Wilem, I
had surrendered myself to Kokai’s care and the village took me in,
embraced me, opened up to me.<br />
I asked nothing relating to Michael for almost two weeks. The men
were building a new jeu and I spent hours, days waiting as they drummed
and sang and danced, the men draped in dogs’ teeth necklaces, boar
tusks around their arms and on their heads cuscus fur headbands
sprouting the feathers of sulphur-crested cockatoos. Sometimes they
drummed and sang all day and all night, songs of headhunting and war, a
bridge between the ancestors and the here and now.<br />
Kokai and I would talk in the mornings over cigarettes and sago,
and Kokai knew everything—hundreds of songs and stories, his family and
the village lineage back generations. As the second week melted into the
third, it was time to start asking questions.<br />
One morning I took out a stack of 50 or so photocopies of
black-and-white photographs Michael Rockefeller had taken in Otsjanep in
the summer of 1961. The men in them were naked, proud, smiling, their
hair in long ringlets, and the shells of triton hung on the abdomens of
some—the sign of a great headhunter. Other photos showed elaborate bisj
poles, some of which, I knew, Michael had unsuccessfully tried to buy.<br />
Kokai and other villagers, including some in Otsjanep, identified
in the photos six of the 15 men that van Kessel and von Peij named as
having parts of Michael’s skeleton, which proved Michael had met those
identified as having killed him—an important detail, because the Asmat
preferred to take the head of someone whose name they knew. When I asked
why the bisj poles were still in the jeu and not laid into the sago
fields, they said it was because the bisj ceremony was still unfinished.
Who had the poles been named for? They kept saying they didn’t know. It
was possible, but—for a people who could remember family lineages going
back generations—unlikely.<br />
One night at Kokai’s I asked about the men killed in the Lepré
raid. I wanted to know what their positions in the village had been.
Faratsjam had been the <i>kepala perang</i>, or war leader, of a jeu.
Osom, Akon and Samut had been, too. Of the five dead in the Lepré raid,
four had been the most important men in Otsjanep, the heads of four of
the five jeus. The strongest, most able warriors of one of the strongest
villages in all of Asmat, killed in an instant. By Max Lepré, a Western
outsider.<br />
And the men who had taken their places? Fin, who had allegedly
taken Michael’s skull. Ajim and Pep, who were each alleged to have
speared him. And Jane, who was named as having one of Michael’s tibia?
He was married to Samut’s sister, and Samut had been married to Jane’s
sister. The slain and their successors: Each of these men would have had
a sacred obligation to avenge the deaths of the men killed by Lepré.
Otsjanep’s motive for murder felt increasingly solid. The only jeu that
hadn’t lost its war leader was Pirien—the only jeu from which Lepré had
killed no one, and which van Kessel and von Peij had reported had been
against Michael’s killing. The jeu that would later break away.<br />
Another night I was sitting with Kokai and another man, smoking
and talking, when they started speaking so quickly to each other I
couldn’t keep up. I heard the words “tourist” and “Pep” and “Dombai” and
<i>mati</i>—dead. And then “Rockefeller.”<br />
I froze. I was sure Kokai was telling the story of Michael
Rockefeller. Finally! I didn’t want to interject, to tell him to slow
down, I was afraid he might clam up. Kokai pantomimed shooting an arrow,
and I heard <i>polisi</i>, and he was talking about helicopters
coming in and people running into the jungle to hide. Not for the first
time I imagined how frightening those throbbing machines in the sky must
have seemed.<br />
Without missing a beat, he segued into another story, about an
event that I knew about but had never connected to Michael. From the
helicopters and hiding in the jungle, Kokai talked about a cholera
epidemic that had swept through Asmat. “Dead, dead,” he said, repeatedly
placing one hand over the other, demonstrating the bodies piling up.
“So many dead. Bensin,” the Indonesian word for gasoline.<br />
Within a year after Michael disappeared, I knew, more than 70
men, women and children were dead in Otsjanep, their corpses rotting on
platforms, as was customary in Asmat. “Now and then you could see dogs
walking around with parts of a foot or hand which—after sufficient
rotting—fell off the platforms,” wrote Anton van de Wouw, the priest who
had replaced van Kessel. It was so bad the villagers agreed, at van de
Wouw’s insistence, to violate tradition and burn the dead.<br />
Kokai had moved from one story to the next as if they were part
of the same event, and it hit me: What if the epidemic had been seen as
the spirits’ punishment for killing Michael Rockefeller? Even more
significant, Australian army helicopters had been dispatched to aid in
the cholera fight, which meant that the only two times the Asmat had
ever seen helicopters were within days of Michael’s death and as more
death, faster than they’d ever experienced, swept through their village.<br />
A month had passed and it was time to go. Everything pointed to
Michael’s killing—even van de Wouw had written in 1968, after years
closely connected with the village, “It is clear that [he] came to the
shore alive.” Yet the sons of the men accused of killing him would admit
nothing, directly. Even Kokai would say only, “We have heard this
story, but we don’t know anything about that.” Fifty years had passed,
Kokai called me his younger brother; after all this time, would they
really just look me in the eye and lie? Were they really that scared?
What was holding them back?<br />
One day shortly before I left Pirien, a man named Marco was
acting out a story, walking and stalking and mimicking the stabbing of
someone with a spear, the shooting of arrows, the cutting off of a head.
I heard the words “Dombai” and “Otsjanep” and turned my video camera
on, but the theatrics seemed to be over and he just talked and talked,
and after eight minutes, I hit the stop button.<br />
Although I didn’t know it yet, it was perhaps my most important
moment in Asmat. Back in Agats, I showed the video to Amates, who
translated. What I filmed after Marco had told the story was a stern
warning to the men gathered around him:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>Don’t you tell this story to any other man or any
other village, because this story is only for us. Don’t speak. Don’t
speak and tell the story. I hope you remember it and you must keep this
for us. I hope, I hope, this is for you and you only. Don’t talk to
anyone, forever, to other people or another village. If people question
you, don’t answer. Don’t talk to them, because this story is only for
you. If you tell it to them, you’ll die. I am afraid you will die.
You’ll be dead, your people will be dead, if you tell this story. You
keep this story in your house, to yourself, I hope, forever. Forever....</i></blockquote>
<i>From the book</i> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062116150/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0062116150&linkCode=as2&tag=smithsonianco-20" target="_blank">Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art</a>, <i>by
Carl Hoffman. Copyright (c) 2014 by Carl Hoffman. To be published on
March 18, 2014, by William Morrow, an imprint of Harper-Collins
Publishers. Reprinted by permission.</i></div>
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In addition to <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062116150/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0062116150&linkCode=as2&tag=smithsonianco-20">Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism and Michael Rockefeller’s Tragic Quest for Primitive Art</a></i>, Carl Hoffmann has written <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0767929810/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0767929810&linkCode=as2&tag=smithsonianco-20">The Lunatic Express</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0345436180/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0345436180&linkCode=as2&tag=smithsonianco-20">Hunting Warbirds</a></i>.<br />
<a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/author/carl-hoffmann/" title="Read more from this author">Read more from this author</a>
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<br />
<h1 style="color: #606060!important; display: block; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 40px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: -1px; line-height: 125%; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida grande,sans-serif;">THE DEALER IS THE DEVIL </span></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;">AN INSIDER'S HISTORY OF THE ABORIGINAL ART TRADE</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12px;">Written by Adrian Newstead, forward by Djon Mundine OAM</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Part road trip, part memoir, part history, part political commentary, <em>The Dealer is the Devil</em>
is illuminatingly thought-provoking and provocative. It is an
incredibly exciting and fast paced account of the fluctuating fortunes
and exponential success of the Aboriginal art movement, with all of the
elements one would expect of a complex drama played out on the
international stage.<br />
<br />
<strong>Adrian Newstead, in conjunction with Australian Galleries wishes
to invite you to the launch of this important title, officiated by Her
Excellency Professor The Honourable Marie Bashir AC CVO, Governor of New
South Wales.</strong><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="color: red;">TUESDAY 4 FEBRUARY 2014, 6PM – 8PM<br />
Australian Galleries 15 Roylston Street Paddington NSW 2021<br />
Official launch at 7pm</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Copies of <em>The Dealer is the Devil</em> will be available for sale and the author will be present for book signing.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: 11px;">Published by Brandl & Schlesinger Book Publishers Australia, 2014.</span></div>
</div>
nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-25594861530355100132013-12-20T06:23:00.001+01:002017-06-11T13:05:58.820+02:00BOUCHON DE FLÛTE, AIRE BIWAT, COURS MOYEN DE LA RIVIÈRE YUAT, BAS-SEPIK, PAPOUASIE NOUVELLE-GUINÉE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Seziv2g8p2I/UrPUGWxQj0I/AAAAAAAADr8/d9-O0jfvj-k/s1600/biwat+flute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Seziv2g8p2I/UrPUGWxQj0I/AAAAAAAADr8/d9-O0jfvj-k/s320/biwat+flute.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
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BOUCHON DE FLÛTE, AIRE BIWAT, COURS MOYEN DE LA RIVIÈRE YUAT, BAS-SEPIK, PAPOUASIE NOUVELLE-GUINÉE</span></h5>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #353530; font-family: "benton" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">BIWAT ANCESTOR SPIRIT FIGURE FROM A SACRED FLUTE, MIDDLE YUAT RIVER, LOWER SEPIK, PAPUA NEW GUINEA</span></div>
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haut. 59 cm<br />
23 1/4 in</div>
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<strong style="font-weight: bold;">Estimate</strong> <a class="inline-overlay mini-trigger" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5474773486611931139" style="color: #a47f1a; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 2px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; text-transform: uppercase;"><img src="https://www.sothebys.com/content/dam/default/lotSymbols/symb_RestrictedSpecies.gif" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" /></a></div>
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<span class="range-from" data-range-from="450000" style="font-size: 12px;">450,000</span> — <span class="range-to" data-range-to="550000" style="font-size: 12px;">550,000</span></div>
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<a class="dropdown-toggle btn btn-link" data-toggle="dropdown" href="http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2012/art-dafrique-et-docanie-pf1218/lot.17.html#" style="-webkit-box-shadow: none; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: transparent; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: transparent; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: transparent; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: transparent; border-top-width: 0px; box-shadow: none; color: black; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; font-size: 11px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: middle;">EUR <i></i></a></div>
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<strong style="font-weight: bold;">LOT SOLD.</strong> 1,408,750 EUR <span class="curr-convert" data-orig-currency="EUR" data-price="1408750"></span><br />
<strong style="font-weight: bold;">(Hammer Price with Buyer's Premium)</strong></div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5474773486611931139.post-88056093581680147862013-10-17T10:05:00.000+02:002013-10-17T10:05:39.812+02:00l'île de Pâques intitulée : Le transport et l'édification des moai<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Il nous fait plaisir de vous informer qu'une toute nouvelle étude sur l'île de Pâques intitulée : <span style="color: navy;"><strong><em>Le transport et l'édification des moai</em></strong> </span><span style="color: black;">est maintenant disponible.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Selon l'auteur, parmi toutes les études qu'il a eu l'occasion de rédiger, il s'agit de son deuxième livre en importance. Les répercussions de cette étude sont majeures en ce qui concerne la véritable connaissance de l'histoire de l'île de Pâques.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: grey; font-family: Xerox Serif Wide; font-size: large;"><span style="color: maroon;">MAINTENANT DISPONIBLE</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: Xerox Serif Wide; font-size: x-large;">ÎLE DE PÂQUES</span><span style="font-family: Xerox Serif Wide; font-size: large;"><u></u><u></u></span></span></h1>
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<i><span style="font-family: Xerox Serif Wide; font-size: large;"><span style="color: maroon;">Le transport et l'édification des moai</span></span></i></h1>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: grey; font-size: medium;"><span>Un véritable voyage dans le temps à la découverte de l’ingéniosité pascuane !</span><u></u> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">Peu après l'arrivée des premiers explorateurs, alors que sévissaient des guerres de clans, les moai furent peu à peu tous retrouvés gisant au sol, jusqu'à ce qu'à terme, plus aucun <i>moai</i> ne se dresse à la surface de l'Île.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">En plus de ces guerres, des maladies apportées par les navigateurs, auxquelles les insulaires étaient particulièrement vulnérables, ont aussi contribué à décimer une grande partie de la population. Comble de malheur, quelques années avant l'arrivée des premières missions archéologiques, un raid esclavagiste avait privé l'Île de son élite, qui, seule, possédait la pleine connaissance de toute la culture de cette petite population. Il ne fut donc pas possible de connaître " le comment et le pourquoi " du déplacement et de l'édification de centaines de <i>moai</i>, questions qui captivaient tous et chacun depuis le passage des premiers explorateurs. Les chercheurs se sont donc attelés à la tâche afin de tenter de résoudre l'énigme du transport et de l'édification des <i>moai</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">Plusieurs essais, à l'aide de différentes méthodes, furent tentés à différentes reprises, dont certains avec succès. Cependant, rien ne laisse croire que ce fut une de ces méthodes en particulier qui fut utilisée par les Pascuans, car ce n'est pas parce qu'une méthode de transport fonctionne, que nécessairement elle a été utilisée. <span style="color: red;">Le plus récent essai, pour le moins spectaculaire, fut de faire "marcher" les <em>moai (un déplacement à la verticale uniquement à l'aide de cordages). </em> Cependant, selon notre analyse, les fondements à l'appui de la méthode utilisée pour ce déplacement ne tiennent absolument pas la route... </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">Afin de déterminer quelle méthode de transport a bien pu être utilisée, parmi toutes celles qui sont possibles, nous croyons qu'il est important de prendre en considération d'autres éléments, mis à part le simple aspect technique, qui peuvent constituer des indices importants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">Ainsi, toute les informations présentes dans la tradition orale doivent être prises en compte. L'aspect religieux concernant la motivation des Pascuans à produire de telles œuvres, ainsi que le mode de fonctionnement pour établir les transactions avec les sculpteurs doivent aussi être pris en considération. Nous savons aussi que les Pascuans avaient l'esprit pratique et qu'ils privilégiaient les méthodes simples et efficaces, nous devons aussi prendre en considération toutes les méthodes et techniques qu'utilisaient les anciens pascuans qui nous sont connues.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">C'est en accordant une importance particulière à tous ces aspects que nous avons entrepris cette étude qui va nous plonger au cœur même de l'ingéniosité pascuane. Nous allons voir tout au long de cette enquête minutieuse que plusieurs indices convergent tous dans la même direction.</span></div>
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<span style="color: navy; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: medium;">Nous croyons même pouvoir, au terme de cette nouvelle étude, vous livrer les véritables méthodes qui furent utilisées par les Pascuans pour déplacer et ériger les imposants <i>moai</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #333333;">Signé par l'auteur</span><span style="color: #dedede;"><u></u><u></u></span></span></span></div>
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Couverture souple, 6 ½ po X 8 ½ po, 240 pages, nombreuses photos couleurs, plus photos noir et blanc et croquis.</div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Prix : 33.00$ / 25 Euros, plus frais d'expédition (Europe par avion, 1à 2 semaines, 17.00$ / 13 Euros, ou par bateau, 4 à 8 semaines, 8.00$ / 6 Euros, Polynésie française 13 Euros, au Québec 8.00$, USA 12.00$)</span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Directement de l'auteur</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">ou par</span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Delcampe.com</span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Ebay.com</span></div>
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nathanpotts@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00508538713940651649noreply@blogger.com0