Читать книгу Art in Theory - Группа авторов - Страница 117

Captain James Cook (1728–79) commanded three voyages of exploration to the Pacific between 1768 and 1780. The first, on the Endeavour, from 1768 to 1771; the second, with two ships, the Resolution and Adventure, from 1772 to 1775; the third, again with two ships, the Resolution and Discovery, from 1776 to 1780. On the third voyage, Cook was killed in Hawaii on 14 February 1779. Up to that point, the Cook voyages were the most highly organized and extensive attempts to explore the world ever undertaken. There is an enormous literature on them, both by the participants themselves and by historians and anthropologists ever since, not to mention works by a variety of artists ranging from eighteenth‐century European academicians to contemporary indigenous Australian and Oceanian artists. The present brief selections are intended to capture some key aspects of the eighteenth‐century Europeans’ responses to the people they encountered, and to their material culture. The former responses bear upon philosophical ideas such as ‘the state of nature’, the ‘noble savage’ and the ‘stages’ of human social development. In the second case, it should be understood that the eighteenth‐century writers had no concept of ‘material culture’ as such, and that in their worldview, the concept of ‘Art’ simply did not apply to the societies in which they found themselves. The central concept which the Enlightenment explorers possessed was that of ‘curiosity’. This pointed to two different things. On the one hand, a mental disposition to enquiry, such that one might be said to be ‘curious’ about something. On the other, to physical objects of an unfamiliar kind, be they natural or the products of human action. These were ‘curiosities’. In the case of such things as bodily ornamentation and clothing, utensils and weapons, even architecture, these were frequently compared (often positively) to European craft or artisanal products. But in the case of other objects involving representations of the human figure, the response was more often critical, implicitly conditioned by the European canon of mimesis. The Cook voyages were double‐sided affairs. Sponsored by both the Royal Society and the Royal Navy, they sought equally to expand knowledge and also British power and trade. All included several scientists and artists. Among the former are numbered Joseph Banks and the father and son team Johann Reinhold and George Forster; among the latter, on the first voyage Sydney Parkinson, on the second, William Hodges, and on the third John Webber. Cumulatively, the Cook voyages amassed a great deal of information, in both verbal and visual formats, about Oceanic societies that were wholly unfamiliar to European art, science and philosophy. What the voyages meant to the people of Oceania at that time is less clear cut. In the medium to long term, colonization, it goes without saying, was a disaster for them. Only since the end of European imperialism in the Pacific has a reassertion of Oceanic cultures emerged and gathered strength. At the time of the first voyages, however, relations between Polynesians and Europeans were more equal than subsequent imperial histories tended to allow. In the late eighteenth century, Europeans in the Pacific were a long way from home and entirely dependent on the goodwill and support of those they encountered. In fact Cook’s failure to grasp that he was being accommodated within a pre‐existing sociocultural structure with its own requirements and protocols arguably led to the incident in Hawaii that resulted in his death. The most remarkable instance of this mutual dependence concerns the Tahitian (or to be more specific, Ra’itean) Tupaia. Often referred to as a ‘navigator‐priest’, Tupaia was, in Nicholas Thomas’s words, ‘a priest, a political strategist … an indigenous intellectual with experimental inclinations’ (Thomas, Discoveries, 2004, p. 21). On the first voyage, Tupaia assisted Cook in his journeys around the Polynesian islands, acting as guide and translator. He subsequently helped navigate the ship as far as New Zealand, where despite the distance involved, he was once again able to act as a linguistic and cultural intermediary. Tupaia left no written record of his interaction with the Europeans, but in the course of the journeys, he made half a dozen remarkable drawings of subjects ranging from a Tahitian funeral costume to a gift exchange between Banks and a Polynesian chief, and even some indigenous Australian men in a canoe. It was not until 1997 that these drawings were attributed to Tupaia, having been previously ascribed to an anonymous and untutored European seaman. (For a brief discussion, see Wood 2014, pp. 94–6.) Tupaia’s intention was to travel back with Cook to Europe and learn more about the powerful civilization that had suddenly appeared, uninvited, to his people. What might have come of that second encounter remains in the realm of speculation since Tupaia succumbed to disease, contracted during Cook’s stopover at the Dutch port of Batavia in present‐day Indonesia, on the return journey. In all likelihood, given the European track record in America, little is likely to have changed in the history of European exploitation of the Pacific. We have arranged the present selections, which were all written by Europeans involved in the voyages, thematically, rather than chronologically, since the interest of the present anthology lies in what was said about tattooing or architecture or dance rather than when, precisely, it was said. Dates are, however, provided with each selection. Eighteenth‐century spelling has, for the most part, been retained, e.g. ‘Otahite’ for ‘Tahiti’. We have listed our sources after the introduction to each text.