TSIMSHIAN PORTRAIT MASK

Lieutenant George Thornton Emmons, collected in Kitladamas ("Kit-lagh-damoks") in 1907

George Heye, Museum of the American Indian-Heye Foundation, New York (inv. no. 1/4227), acquired from the above in 1907

Leon Buki, New York, acquired from the above by exchange, July 15, 1973

George Terasaki, New York, acquired from the above via James Economos, New York, in 1975

Steven C. Brown, Transfigurations: North Pacific Coast Art. George Terasaki, Collector, Seattle, 2006, n.p., pl. 80

The best Tsimshian artists evince a clear concern in their masks for the volume and bone structure of the human face and, as in the case of the superb portrait mask presented here, this preoccupation led them to create masks of great sculptural depth, which convey the look and feel of a human head rather than simply a flat visage. In this mask, the complex bone structure is wonderfully and subtly defined, with the various intricate planes that give the face volume and a sense of fleshy realism drawing fluidly together around the central axis which is formed by the sharp ridge of the nose, the firmly set mouth, and the resolute and pointed chin.

The mask’s structure and the sensuous, flesh-like quality of the modelling are enhanced by the artist’s careful highlighting of the natural characteristics of the wood, particularly evident in the way that the highest points of the cheekbones emerge from the centre of the concentric circles of the wood’s grain. The importance of the wood itself can also be felt in the sparing use of pigment, which never overwhelms the sculpture, with the tone of the skin rendered beautifully by the bare surface of the wood. Pigment is used, in the main, only to highlight the senses, with vermillion for the ears, nose, and mouth, and a touch of white for each eye. The hair, brow, and beard are outlined by black pigment, whilst small metal tacks at either corner of the mouth and one at the chin (which also bears two small marks left by the presence of others), indicate where strips of fur, probably that of a black bear, were once attached to the face to add a further sense of realism and texture.

The absence of any attachments brings into even sharper focus the arresting expression of the bold and resolute face. With the “high cheekbones and strong chin of many Tsimshian people” (Brown, Transfigurations: North Pacific Coast Art. George Terasaki, Collector, Seattle, 2006, n.p.), the mask is so distinctly modeled that it may be a portrait taken from life, the face used “to represent a revered ancestor” or to bring to life “a character from the origin stories of a family lineage […] in the firelight of a traditional clan house.” (ibid.). If the mask was indeed based on a specific person, then their identity is unknown to us. Equally nameless at the remove of more than a century is the artist, but the sign of their hand remains. We see it in the finish of the mask’s right cheek, in that slightly faceted surface which illustrates the movement of the carver’s tools across the wood. Amidst the otherwise smooth finish, these delicate marks show us the subtle yet complex way in which Tsimshian artists depicted the mass and volume of the human face. They give us, much like a drawing, an important insight into the work of the artist.