This morning, before opening the shop, I placed these two next to each other.
Not because they belong to the same tradition. They clearly do not.
But sometimes objects begin to speak differently when they share the same space for a while.
One is a mask from Zambia, in the Mbunda style.
The other, a small Lobi figure from Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast.
The mask immediately takes control of the table.
Its construction is unusually deliberate. The repeated lines above the eyes almost feel architectural, as if the face was assembled rather than carved. It reminded me of older Mbunda masks I had seen years ago — those powerful faces balancing authority and restraint.
But what interested me most here was not the attribution.
It was the tension.
The mask feels calm, but not passive. The symmetry is controlled, though never rigid. Even the surface has settled in a convincing way, without the heavy-handed restoration or artificial aging one so often encounters today.
You can view the mask here:
Mask in the Mbunda Style — Zambia
The small Lobi figure reacted differently.
At first glance, it almost disappears next to the mask.
But after some time, it became the piece I kept looking back at.
The composition is extremely reduced — almost like a narrow ladder with a head placed on top. Very little is described. And yet the figure holds together remarkably well.
There are traces of sacrificial material still attached to the surface, forming a dense encrusted patina that gives the object its physical weight and history.
It is not a spectacular piece.
Which may be exactly why it works.
You can view the Lobi figure here:
Lobi Figure — Burkina Faso / Ivory Coast
After thirty years of handling African objects, I increasingly notice that the pieces which stay with me are not always the loudest ones.
Often they are simply objects that continue to hold the eye after the first impression has passed.
These two did.
