The painting / book project I began just over a year ago is also coming to a close. We will have the first of two final showings, complete with book mock up, 11 paintings and a music and dance performance. It's a fitting end and feeling like the best finale I've had leaving a country.
The project involved creating a series of paintings to explain the traditional dance called Dansa. I had brought up the idea one day after dance class when I heard that the instructor had an organization dedicated to researching origins of traditional dance. His group also had an objective of bringing traditional dance to public schools. I love dance in schools and thought a literacy component would be a great addition. I also figured Malian students would really benefit from having books documenting their cultural heritage. So began a year of collaboration.
Drissa and I signed the paintings yesterday. We started with a kind of solemn, formal signing on the first few and then hurried things along. I tend to do everything too quickly.
But I have been reflecting on the process- of painting together, of telling the story, of crafting the scenes and of gathering information.
A few mistakes were made from the outset, some of the kind that I knew were not such a good idea at the time but chose to ignore and others, well, I am not sure how they happened.
The biggest mistake was in getting the story right. Somehow we were under the impression that the dance we'd chosen to depict was a wedding dance. I can see how this information was misinterpreted, but it was still surprising to find out, once the project had been nearly complete.
This process was heavily focused on the images, not so much on the story. I've never approached it that way and it is another reason the miscommunication did not get worked out until the end. It was easy enough to rearrange the story a bit, so it remains factual and still fits our images. But next time, double checking the information seems like an obvious first step.
My fact finding mission, really just a clarification of details, involved a meeting with the griots- two ladies the dancer and his wife know. They arranged an evening at their house so I could ask questions and verify the order of events. Initially, I'd had some questions about the role of the bride and how she felt about some of the steps in the wedding process (being sequestered for several days) and the role of the henna painting (was it true red henna meant innocent and black henna meant not so innocent? and who would ever choose the black henna?) but by the time of the meeting, I'd worked through my angst about the details. And my curiosity. I was more focused on the big picture.
The ladies were helpful in describing the order of events, though all stories seem to evolve in that circular thinking common to tales involving African tradition. It's hard to keep track of a story that isn't linear. When one path leads to another and a suddenly interesting detail is revealed, which brings us down a whole new path, but doesn't really relate to the original question....yeah, it's a bit of a challenge to pull out the relevant information. But I was more enriched for the immersion of it all.
They liked my idea and caught a quick glimpse of the images which prompted them to do some on the spot praise singing. The older woman began, and actually seemed to put the younger woman on the spot, as she was still eating. She managed to sing out a few words in between bites, eventually succumbing to the pressure to sing rather than eat. The difficulty of being a griot- always in demand.
They sang so beautifully I wanted to rest my head on someone's shoulder and curl up and be comforted. Their voices were soothing.
Of course, I couldn't understand everything they were saying, aside from my name. Occasionally they threw in a French word or two, something about painting, something about telling stories, and oh yeah, something about my long nose. Leave it to the griots to sing it like it is.
I never really know how to respond to moments like that, so I just sat and soaked it up, hoping to file away the goodness for one of those days when I need a happy memory. I left with my pages of notes and sincere thanks for the evening.
Another step has involved getting the paintings photographed, which we are still not sure has been done correctly. But I do have a file of high definition photos from a Malian photographer who has worked on the national archives (Mali has a history of acclaimed photographers and is in the process of uploading works to digital storage) among other projects, as well as his own work. When I asked him about printing, he suggested the photography school and asked if I had time right then to go visit. We took off on his motorcycle and arrived within minutes. I really appreciated his understanding of my deadline and his willingness to see me though another phase.
We spent about an hour talking to the director, calculating sizes and discussing the objective of the project. The printing room hosted a 12-ink color printer larger than I am tall. Swiss, I was told. There was another under cover that had come, perhaps, from France. I am sometimes still amazed at the things that get imported in. This was impressive.
The director was incredibly helpful during both of my visits. He was patient and interested in the creative aspects of the project. He understood my dilemmas (one of the mistakes I'd chosen to ignore was the size and format of the paintings - clearly not ideal for transformation into a book. I knew this at the time and yet, we'd forged ahead anyway with the materials on hand.) Because there were 3 basic sizes, each one had to be calculated in relation to the others. And there was the problem of the two landscape formats, which would need to be split to cover two pages.
The director, Youssouf, was a very kind man who worked hard to understand my vision and help with formatting and printing the images. While we waited for a sample print, we talked art and even yoga. He told us a story about the need for movement in keeping the body spry and showed off a few of his poses. When the young kids come into the studio for training, he sits them down in a circle and gets them stretching. He challenges them to touch their head with their toes. The best life lessons always come in unexpected places.
When our test sample was complete, we made a few more minor adjustments. Youssouf talked about his own experience as painter, which he gave up when he found it couldn't provide his meals. He said he was taking careful interest in our work, treating it as he would his own. He seemed really interested in the creativity of the work. "We are not a print shop, we are artisans, We're crafting something," he told me, once we'd finally figured out all the measurements, especially the tricky landscape split. I am hoping to pick up the finished product in the next few days and add the text. Drissa may even have time to add some designs to the page borders, which are quite large in some cases due to our awkward canvas dimensions.
The last piece to all of this is the dance. I have been wanting to perform since I arrived full of energy and enthusiasm to be dancing with such great drummers again. However, this has all come together so quickly, there isn't really time to prepare the way I'd like. We've only practiced twice and there might be two more times before the exhibit. That's about a billion times less than the number I'd really hope for. I'd feel much better if the moves were so ingrained I didn't have to think much about them. Or listen so hard to hear the break.
But I do love dancing and the performance part, our amateur part, is sure to be over before it really begins. I guess what I love is dancing in class when the music goes on and on and we have a million times to get it right. When it feels full and open and free. I am not sure I will be able to replicate that feeling in a 5 minute performance in front of a bunch of people I don't know. But I am willing to try.
It will be the most fitting way to say goodbye to Bamako.
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| The Cognosu- where a new bride is secluded for a week after her wedding. She's not completely alone, her mangamaga prepares her meals and gives her good advice about wifely things |
