Among the Yoruba of Nigeria and the Republic of Benin, the word aworan commonly refers to any two-

or three-dimensional representation, ranging from the naturalistic to the stylized (Figs. 1, 2). A contraction of (that which), wo (to look at), and ranti (to recall, that is, the subject), aworan is mnemonic in nature, identifying a work of art as a construct specially crafted to appeal to the eyes, relate a representation to its subject, and, at the same time, convey messages that may have aesthetic, social, political, or spiritual import. (1) It should be emphasized, however, that Yoruba is a tonal language, so that the same word may have different meanings depending on how it is pronounced. (2) For example, because of a change in the vowel tones, the word aworan refers not to a representation--which is aworan--but to its beholder, being a contraction of a (the one), wo (looking at), and tran (spectacle) . (3) The meaning of the root verb wo (to look) remains intact in the two words, linking the beholder to t he beheld. In this article, I want to focus not only on the interconnect-edness of art and language in Yoruba culture but also on how their cosmogony and concept of procreation draw on the metaphors of artistic creativity. In the process, I will underline the nature, contexts, functions, peculiarities, and poetics of visual representations, their impact on cultural behavior, and the extent to which portraiture has been used to reinforce the body politic at both the physical and metaphysical levels. As Richard Brilliant has rightly observed, "The synthetic study of portraiture requires some sensitivity to the social implications of its representational modes, to the documentary value of art as aspects of social history, and to the subtle interaction between social and artistic conventions." (4) In addition, I will attempt to shed some light on the nexus between aworan (picture or representation) and iworan (the act of looking). Much of my data derives from field observations and interviews in Yorubaland, where I have conducted art historical research since the 1960s. I have also made use of Yoruba oral tradition, a good part of which has been studied by scholars in different disciplines and found to contain substantial factual information that can be used for historical reconstruction. (5) The fact that I conducted the field interviews in the Yoruba language (of which I am a native speaker) sometimes enabled me to play the role of a participant-observer and then follow up with questions pertaining to the semiotics of images and spectatorship. Hence, my theoretical approach combines linguistic, visual, iconographic, contextual, and anthropological analyses.

Omo Oduduwa: The Quest for Unity in Diversity Numbering over 25 million people, the Yoruba are divided into several kingdoms, each headed by a king (oba). Almost all the kings and their subjects regard themselves as Omo Oduduwa, the descendants of Oduduwa, a mythical progenitor popularly identified as the first "divine" king of Ife, the ancient city widely regarded as the cradle of Yoruba civilization. (6) Although Yoruba culture appears to be homogeneous, there are significant regional variations, suggesting that what we have today is a synthesis of previously diverse, even if related, elements. This phenomenon is apparent in the Yoruba language, which has various dialects differentiating one kingdom from another, (7) and in the fact that Oduduwa has a double identity. In some parts of Yorubaland, he is regarded as a powerful warrior and the leader of an immigrant group that subjugated the aboriginal population of Ife and established a new ruling dynasty that eventually brought the whole of present-day Yorubaland under its hegemony. In other parts, the same Oduduwa (also pronounced Oodua) is worshiped as an earth goddess who sustains humanity in the same way that a mother nurtures her children. The fact that Oduduwa, the male warrior, is sometimes addressed as a "mother" has led some scholars of Yoruba history and religion to suggest that the male aspect is a later development, reflecting an attempt by a new dynasty to legitimize its hegemony by grafting a male aspect onto a preexisting earth goddess. This dynastic change, often dated between the seventh and eleventh centuries C.E., (8) reverberates in one cosmogonic myth concerning a power tussle between two deities in the Yoruba pantheon. According to the myth, the universe at first consisted of only the heavens and was governed by Olodumare, the Supreme Being and the generator of ase (pronounced ashe), the vital principle empowering existence. Assisting Olodumare to administer the universe was a pantheon of deities and nature spirits called orisa, each of whom personified different attributes of the Sup reme Being, such as water, land, creativity, industry, wisdom, beauty, fertility, vision, dynamism, healing, and so on. After some time, 016-dumare decided to create land below the sky and assigned the job to the creativity deity Obatala. Unfortunately, Obatala got drunk after receiving the sacred instruments of his commission and fell asleep by the roadside. Thereupon, a rival deity, Oduduwa, stole the sacred instruments, descended from the sky, and created what we now call the earth. When Obatala woke up and discovered what had happened, he challenged Oduduwa and a fierce fight ensued. The Supreme Being later intervened, compensating Obatala with another assignment--to mold the images of the first human

beings, who later became inhabitants of the earth. (9) There are indications that the warring factions later intermarried and united to form a central government in Ife under Oduduwa, agreeing to rotate the kingship among themselves. (10) These events are commemorated annually during the Edi, Itapa, Olojo, a nd Obatala festivals in Ife and its environs when the devotees of Obatala-representing the aborigines--and those of Oduduwa--representing the immigrants--engage in ritualized mock battles that usually end in favor of the Oduduwa faction, after which there is a reconciliation. (11) Suffice it to say that the Omo Oduduwa ethos, which seems to have influenced the Yoruba concept of portraiture, was apparently invented as a political strategy aimed at forging a kind of "Unity in Diversity" relating the immigrant and aboriginal groups--royals and commoners alike. (12). Ere Eniyan: The Archetypal Human Image, and Onayiya: Creating a Work of Art Of special interest to us here is the myth that the creativity deity Obatala molded the archetypal human image (ere eniyan) from divine clay. According to the myth, Ogun, the deity (orisa) associated with iron tools and weapons, put the finishing touches to the form, clarifying and delineating the principal features, especially the face. The image (ere) turned into a living human (eniyan) after receiving from the Supreme Being the divine breath or soul (emi)--a form of ase (the enabling power). Since then, every image thus produced has been placed inside the womb of a pregnant woman and left to develop from an embryonic form into a normal baby. Hence the prayer for an expectant mother: "Ki Orisa ya ona ire ko ni" (May the Orisa [Obatala] fashion for us a good work of art). (13) The implication is that procreation, in spite of its biological aspect, has an artistic dimension as well: the human body is the handiwork of Obatala, a piece of sculpture (ere) animated by a soul (emi). In other words, the body (ara) makes the spirit manifest, enabling an individual to have iwa (physical existence) in the visible world. Iwa denotes not only the fact of being but also the distinctive quality or character of a person. (14) The Yoruba identify a work of art as ona, that is, an embodiment of creative skills, implicating the archetypal action of Obatala the creativity deity and patron of the Yoruba artist. The process of creating a work of art is called onayiya (literally, ona, art, and yiya, creation or making), a term implicated in the aforementioned prayer for an expectant mother. Yiya derives from the root verb ya, meaning to create, fashion, or make. The fact that the female body mediates Obatala's creation

(15) has led some to translate iya, the Yoruba word for a mother, as "someone from whom another life is fashioned" or the body "from which we are created." (16) The term jora denotes a striking resemblance between a child and any of its parents or among members of the same family. Thus, a naturalistic representation is called ayajora, a contraction of a (act of), ya (to create), jo (to resemble), and ara (physical body of the subject). That is to say, the artist's main goal is to capture individual likeness, as in a portr ait of one of the ancient kings (ooni) of Ife (Fig. 1). The reason for the prominence of the head in Yoruba art will be discussed shortly. A conceptual representation, on the other hand, is called aroya (a contraction of a, act of, ro, to think or imagine, and ya, to create) because it is done from memory. (17) For example, the seated female of Figure 2 is far from being a portrait of a known person. Rather, the image is a construct--a figure for an altar signifying the Earth Goddess (Ile) in her symbolic role as the "Mother and Caretaker of the World" (Iya Aye), hence, her appellation Onile (Owner of the House). The two small figures in her hands represent the male and female aspects of nature, whose interaction ensures the perpetuation of life on earth. (18) The emphasis here is not so much on empirical observation as on the use of the mind's eye to visualize and give material form to an idea. The literary equivalent of aroya (conceptual imagery) is arofo (oral poetry)--a shortened form of a (act of), ro (t o think or imagine), and fo (to chant or utter). Although it has individual and regional variations (just as the Yoruba language has subdialects), the Yoruba sculptural style (evident especially in wood but also in stone and ivory sculpture) is distinguished by stylized figures--standing, kneeling, or riding on horseback--with large heads, elaborate hairdos, and protruding facial features (Figs. 4, 18, 20). (19) Through the apprenticeship system, young artists are trained to create images in the substyle characteristic of a particular region as well as to master and interpret the iconographic conventions (asa) handed down from the past. (20) The fact that much of Yoruba art functions in a religious context has stabilized these conventions, imposing some limitation on the extent of change within the canon, while, at the same time, allowing creativity, innovation, and the incorporation of new elements in time and place. An apprentice graduates after demonstrating enough imo (mastery of time-honored conventions), imoose (technical proficiency), and oju ona (li terally, artistic eye) to practice as a professional. Oju ona can be defined as "design consciousness," (21) or the visual cognition that enables an artist to select and process images from daily experience into schemata or templates (determined by the

Yoruba style), which are then stored in pictorial memory, to be retrieved and modified when needed to express an idea. As a result, a well-trained artist does not need a life model or a preparatory sketch to represent a particular subject. A carver, for example, begins by staring intently at the wood while conjuring up the relevant schema from his pictorial memory. Thus, the term aworan signifies much more than an image that recalls the subject. It also alludes to the creative process, especially an artist's preliminary contemplation (a-wo) of the raw material and the pictorial memory (iranti) necessary for visualizing and objectifying the subject. Thereafter, the carver projects the schema onto the wood, reaches for his tools, and follows an established proced ure: (a) sisa (blocking out), using a big adze to reveal mass and volume and to outline the image(s), emphasizing the head(s); (b) onalile (tracking forms), using a smaller adze to clarify the image(s); (c) aletunle (consolidation), using chisels and knives to further define the component parts; (d) didan (smoothening), using knives and abrasive leaves to remove tool marks and rough edges; and (e) finfin (incising), using a knife to accentuate facial features and body parts, cut patterns, and create surface designs. (22) Modeling in clay (later cast into brass or bronze) follows a similar procedure, though differences in material, tools, and technique invariably produce different results. Carvings tend to look more linear and angular, due to the subtractive technique, while modeled forms have a smoother finish because of the additive technique. According to the artists interviewed in different parts of Yorubaland, the creative process involves three deities, Obatala Ogun, and Esu. Obatala (creativity deity) p rovides the imaginative component, Ogun (iron deity), the tools for transforming the material, and Esu (divine messenger), the vision and ase (enabling power) that facilitate execution. (23) Oriki: Glorifying the Head in Word and Image Literally meaning "head praise," the term oriki refers to a eulogy or poem (arofo) glorifying the worthiness of an individual. It is chanted at critical moments to goad the head to action and thereby spur a person to greater achievement. (24) For the head (ori) is perceived as the seat of the ase (enabling power) that determines one's identity and existence, influencing behavior and personal destiny: If I have money

It is my Ori [head] I will praise My Ori, it is you If I have children on earth It is my Ori to whom I will give praise My Ori it is you All the good things I have on earth It is Ori I will praise My Ori, It is you. (25) In effect, the head (ori) is the lord of the body and therefore must be acknowledged and given pride of place. A similar message is apparent in the emphasis on the head in Yoruba art. It is almost always the biggest and the most elaborately finished part of a typical figure sculpture, often adorned with a crownlike coiffure or headgear (Figs. 1, 2, 4, 18, 20). (26) With this complementarity of word and image in mind, the Yoruba linguistic scholar Olabiyi Yai has suggested, "When approaching Yoruba art, an intellectual orientation that would be consonant with Yoruba traditions of scholarship would be to consider each individual Yoruba art work and the entire corpus as oriki." (27) This is because while most oriki (eulogies) undergo changes and embellishment in the course of their oral transmission from one generation to another, they often retain a core of historical or iconographic elements that defines the essence and character of the subject. Moreover, Yoruba artists in the past were expected, as part of th eir training, to familiarize themselves with the oriki of important personalities and the major orisa (deities) in their community and with indigenous theology, which they took into consideration when creating shrines and related images. Thus, apart from their aesthetic qualities, shrine images speak volumes about Yoruba society, its social practices and worldview. One of the fundamentals of this worldview is that the visible head (ori ode) is no more than an enclosure for the inner, spiritual head, called ori inu, which localizes the ase that empowers the

physical self. (28) Although the ase emanates from the Supreme Being, it is mediated by Esu (pronounced Eshu), the divine messenger and principle of dynamism in the Yoruba cosmos. (29) One myth claims that before an individual is born into the physical world, its soul must select an inner head (ori inu) from a collection of ready-made clay heads molded by Ajala, the heavenly potter. Because of their association with personal destiny, these clay heads are abstracted and made to look similar, though each is intrinsically different. The one selected by an individual becomes an integral part of the metaphysical self, constituting the inner core of the physical head and determining a person's lot on earth. (30) In the distant past, most adult Yoruba dedicated an altar called ibori to the inner head in the form of a cone-sh aped object covered with leather and adorned with cowrie shells (Fig. 3). Once used as currency, these shells allude to the wealth that a "good head" can bring to a person. Apart from concealing that person's fate (ipin), the ibori links the self with Esu, who originates the motions, emotions, and actions associated with iwa, earthly existence. As the divine messenger and the omnipresent agency of the Supreme Being in all living things, Esu is asoju (the observer), (31) and thus the catalyst for sight. (32) Esu's connection with the head, especially the face (oju), is illustrated by the popular notion that by blinking his eyes, he can make a person look beautiful or ugly. (33) Even fellow orisa in the Yoruba pantheon depend on Esu for their vision; according to a myth, he once confused Oduduwa's sight, with the result that the latter mistook the divination deity (Ifa) for a leopard and ran away in fright. (34) In other words, Esu activates the face, the site of perception and communication, reflecting the fee lings of pain and pleasure, joy and sorrow, hope and despair, and other passions associated with temporal existence and behavior. The Yoruba word for a facade is oju-ile (literally, the face of the house) because the facade is to a house what the face is to the body, an index of identity. The doors of a house open and close just like the eyes. That is why Esu images or staffs are often placed, for security purposes, near the doorway, at the crossroads, and at the town gates. Some have two faces looking in opposite directions (Figs. 4, 5), as though monitoring developments from within and without, from left and right, from above and below, and from nearby and the great beyond. (35) The cowrie shells on this staff denote the blessings that Esu may bestow on those he favors, despite his prankishness. The flute or whistle motif identifies him both as the herald, who coordinates the activities of all the deities, and as a gatekeeper, guide, and detective. He thus exemplifies the principle of intelligence, vigilanc e, and surveillance, among others, in Yoruba culture. No wonder that the Esu image illustrated in Figure 6, one of three once installed in a public square in the

middle of the village of Igbajo (about thirty-five miles from Ife) was reportedly vandalized by Ijesa warriors during their invasion of Igbajo in the 1880s; (36) note the damage to the left arm. Incidentally, Esu is anthropomorphized here, combining the look of a child with that of an adult in allusion to the paradoxical, betwixt-and-between nature of the deity and his association with the threshold--a recurring theme in much of his oriki (eulogies): The short and tall one Whose head is barely visible when he walks through a peanut farm Thanks to the fact that he is very tall But Esu must climb the hearthstone in order to put salt in the soup pot ... Labolarinde, (37) if you reach the frontier and do not encounter him at the citygate working in the field You will find him in the vicinity and he is always accessible to everyone, including the infirm. (38) Ayajora: Portraying the Physical Self The emphasis on ara (physical body) in the word ayajora reveals the objective of the Yoruba artist in a naturalistic portrait (Figs. 7-15): to capture a recognizable likeness of the subject with an emphasis on oju amuwaye (literally, earthly face), the face one is born with and which identifies one's iwa (telluric existence). This face is time-bound, changing with mood and age. (39) However, the artist frequently ignores the transitory emotional aspects, idealizing only those features that facilitate identity, the emphasis being on jijora, or what Robert Farris Thompson calls a "midpoint mimesis" between absolute abstraction and absolute likeness. (40) In the past, many Yoruba treated the naturalistic representation of a living person with ambivalence for two main reasons. One stems from a popular notion that every living person has a spirit partner ( a "look-alike") in heaven called enikeji (heavenly double) who offers spiritual protection to its earthly counterpart. (41) The creation of a lifelikeness in ar t (a human-made "look-alike") is perceived as a distraction that may jeopardize this relationship, causing the heavenly double to withdraw its spiritual protection. The second reason has to do with the belief that through sympathetic magic, a

naturalistic portrait could be transformed into a surrogate for the human body and then manipulated for positive or negative ends. For instance, in preventive medicine called idira or isora (fortifying the body), a portrait, infused with charms, is kept in a secure place or a shrine to immunize the referent from witchcraft and infectious diseases. (42) In sorcery called asasi (evil spell) or edi (tethering), an image may be gagged or strangled or have sharp objects driven into the eyes, ears, or throat to disable, maim, or kill the person it represents. In another type of sorcery called apeje (instruct and obey), the subject is hypnotized, via a sculpted portrait,