The intricate masks of the Borucan Indians of Costa Rica have caught the world's notice; the hope is that sharing their art leads only to crosscultural enrichment.
By LENNIE BENNETT
Published November 11, 2004
[Photos: Selby Botanical Gardens]
Francisco Rojas Morales, Frogs and Monkeys, 2004, carved and painted wood.
Bernardo Gonzalez Rojas, Harpy Eagle with Snake, 2004, carved and painted wood.
Melvin Gonzalez Rojas, Indian and Orchid, 2004, carved and painted wood.
SARASOTA - Is it possible to be a friend and foe simultaneously? You wonder, when you meet Bernardo Gonzalez Morales, his cousin Francisco Rojas Morales and their friend Melvin Gonzalez Rojas, all in their 20s.
The young men were at Sarasota's Marie Selby Botanical Gardens recently, where their carved masks are on display.
All are Boruca Indians, natives to a mountainous region of southern Costa Rica surrounded by rain forests. Today the Borucans number about 2,000 and live in a single village that is almost entirely self-sustaining.
But "civilization" intrudes, as it has since the Spanish conquistadors arrived centuries ago. Today, the enemy can be something as impersonal as deforestation. Or it could be something as specific as me.
The Borucan tradition of maskmaking predates by hundreds of years the arrival of outsiders. The masks, carved from the lush forests' wood, were used in ancient ceremonial rites. Now, having been "discovered," they are an important part of the village's commerce. Tourists love them, along with the textiles woven by women of the village. Some masks, such as those carved by Morales, Morales and Rodriguez, hover on that line between craft and art, sought by collectors who can buy them relatively cheaply.
Commercial interest has changed the village, which is now a tourist destination advertised by the government, and will continue to do so. So, too, the crafts themselves will inevitably change as Boruca becomes more assimilated into the larger world.
But the Borucans cannot be faulted for wanting a piece of monetary pie, humble though it might be. You have to hope, though, that it will not seduce them.
These young men could not have been more charming. They came to Sarasota at the invitation of Selby organizers after a local artist, Lauren Jawer, saw the masks on a trip to Costa Rica and proposed an exhibition.
As they sat at a table in the gardens painting the masks, they said, through a translator, that this trip had marked their first airplane ride. A visit to the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art to see the baroque collection was a revelation. They hoped to get to the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg for a look at surrealist art.
Though they have never been trained formally, these are not primitive artists in the conventional sense. They grew up surrounded by their craft and began carving at an early age, trained by older villagers. They were, among their peers, exceptionally gifted, said Jawer, and singled out by Gonzalez Rojas' father, Ismael Gonzalez, now in his 70s, who is credited with elevating the quality of mask-carving to a near-art form.
Unlike many villagers who specialize in carving or painting, these men do both, and very well. The masks are elaborate three-dimensional scenes of the nature they see around them, some of it quickly vanishing. The scenes are like headdresses for the faces carved at the bottom of the masks, usually the fierce visage of a warrior or wise stare of a shaman.
Bright-green tree frogs perch on leaves, surrounded by lush flowers, or a caiman, teeth bared, lunges from a brooding swamp. Everything on the mask, from the vines curling around a tree trunk to the delicate curved bill of a hummingbird, is carved from a single piece of wood. The unpainted masks are made of cedar; cheaper balsa is used for painted ones. Their intricacy invites you to look deeply into them, to see the details and appreciate the color combinations.
Most of the masks measure about 12 inches. Each takes about three weeks to create, from sawing the wood to carving and painting it. No two are alike.
To her credit, Jawer's business, Mariposa Indigenous Art, imports the masks using fair trade standards, ensuring reasonable compensation for the artisans.
In addition to the large masks, which are for sale for several hundred dollars, a collection of smaller ones, also exquisitely carved, are for sale at lower prices. Jawer commissioned them from another villager for the gift shop but, when she opened the crate, she saw they were so fine that they deserved to be shown with the larger masks. Cruder, very inexpensive little masks are available for purchase in the gift shop, along with masks and paint kits for children.
Now that fall is here, Selby Gardens is a delightful spot to visit. A number of specialized gardens fill the 8.5-acre site on Sarasota Bay, along with my favorite, the tropical display house of rare plants. The masks, lining the hall and stairwell of the historic Selby house, complement the gardens: both examples of preservation in a culture increasingly fond of bulldozers.
PREVIEW: "Rain Forest Masks of the Borucan Indians of Costa Rica" is at Marie Selby Botanical Gardens, 811 S Palm Ave., Sarasota, through Dec. 5. The gardens are open daily, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission is $12 adults, $6 children ages 6 to 11 and free to younger children. For information call 941 366-5731 or go to www.selby.org
