FEATURE 98 FIG. 19: Attributed to Kwayep of Bamana, beaded bowl figure. Baham Kingdom, Grassfields, Cameroon. Wood, glass beads, fiber. Collected by Philippe Guimiot. Laura & James J. Ross Collection. Photo: John Bigelow Taylor. commissioned works from him, particularly a carving that matched the appearance of the Bazou mortars he had already obtained.28 Kwayep accepted Egerton’s commissions and later delivered an unclothed female caryatid figure in a kneeling position (fig. 22). This object has certain similarities to Stanford’s calabash holder, such as the powerful upper arms and hands and the broad edge of the bowl, which is decorated with the same kind of pattern. However, the body of the figure is painted in a lighter color, with certain areas highlighted in a darker tone. This raises questions. Did Kwayep do this in jest, or did he assume that the foreigner who commissioned the piece would prefer a light color to a dark one? The figure depicts a traditional local subject—a woman holding a concave bowl, designed to accommodate a calabash with her upwardreaching arms—but the color is altered. Is this a representation of a European? This figure has folded legs and may give a hint of what the lower portion of the Stanford example once looked like, since that one is apparently missing its lower legs. The comparison takes a sharp turn there: Kwayap’s commission piece for Egerton looks remarkably clunky when compared to the Stanford example. The reasons for this can only be surmised. Maybe this was Kwayep’s “first draft” in trying to copy the abovementioned work from Bazou. Perhaps there was some awkwardness in responding to a foreign client, whereas works created for a local commissioner or for ritual practice would be more accomplished. And even more likely, a co-worker in Kwayep’s workshop may well have sculpted part or all of the piece, which would certainly account for the strong visual differences. The current whereabouts of this light-skinned female calabash stand is unknown, but its appearance is recorded in Egerton’s book, in which he notes, “It is a nice piece of work, but without the grace and the rhythm of the original. Kwayep did not care much for it himself. He was on his mettle—I had told him how much I admired Monsieur Labouret’s Mother and Child—and he was eager to show what he could do.”29 So they agreed that Kwayep should carve a stool with four caryatid figures—two female and two male (fig. 23). These figures look outward, not at one another, as Kwayep maintained such a configuration would make the work too complicated. In all other matters, though, the sculptor was to have a free hand. Egerton relates that he was indignant when he received the piece and asked for an explanation. As Egerton later described, “Two of the figures holding up the seat were black and two were white. That was all right. But there was a certain manliness about the black man which was definitely lacking in the white. There was no doubt about it. What did Kwayep mean to insinuate? The King, the sculptor, and Joseph the translator only laughed.”30 This piece also suffers from a certain awkwardness in realization, probably for the same reason as Egerton’s calabash stand. Kwayep had begun another carving on his own, which Egerton urged him to finish. It was a rendering of a boy Kwayep had seen seated at the edge of a path (figs. 24/25), an innovative subject drawn from everyday life, not a subject chosen from the stock of status objects. Although we will never learn whether the lad was really in the act of removing “jiggers from his feet,” as the caption suggests,31 it is clear that the figure displays stylistic and formal sim
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