Of the Artist and his place in today’s myopic, amnesic society …

It is my pleasure, or should I more accurately say, the Lantern Meet of Poet’s President’s directive, for me to apprise the visitors of this cyber-publication on the discursive transpirations of the most recent Meet-Convention, which occurred on the afternoon of the 21^st day of July, two thousand and thirteen years since the followers of Jesus, also called the Christ, began awaiting His triumphant re-entry into our sky-scrapping, tarmac paved and Wi-Fi linked modern day ‘Jerusalem.’ 

Okay, now for the sense.

This week, we were honoured to have as our guest, Professor Laban Erapu – Distinguished novelist & Poet, Publisher & Editor, Man of Letters, and Senior Lecturer at a multitude of Universities within and without Uganda; amongst several other high and noble capacities.

To anyone who hadn’t encountered him before physically, Professor Laban definitely came off as far-above your average 60/70 year old gentleman; with his very modest apparel (denims and an open-necked shirt), easygoing nature, beaming smile, warm charm and steady voice.

I was later to learn that he sleeps less than three hours a night, sits on a computer more than eight hours daily, yet has a near 20-20 vision. 

I should also perhaps mention, before it slips my memory (but how can it? So compelling a realization!), that Professor Laban is perhaps the most humble individual with whom I have been blessed to interface. TRUE STORY!

To note, this particular Sunday afternoon was a cloudy one. Well, I guess many others before it have been cloudy, so this one too may be added to the long historical list of cloudy Sundays.

And true to form (this form having begun two Sundays ago), I arrived well before the ‘should-be’ start time i.e.  thirty minutes before the hour of three o’clock, and proceeded to whisk down a pseudo-lunch before the intellectual demands of the meet’s aura could car-jack my appetite.

Anyway, before I lose the thread and go on about what type of lunch it was, and how cheap it cost, and how representative it was of my pocket’s poor health-prognosis … I wish to mention that as I watered down the last crumbs of my imitation lunch, I was summarily called to attention by H.E Ojakol Omerio  - Most Distinguished President of the Lantern Meet of Poets, who motioned for me to follow him down the stairs and outside the theater with a characteristically non-chalant wave of the first three fingers of his left hand, thumb inclusive. 

Dropping the empty food packages off my laps as if they were hot coals, I dashed out desperately after His Excellency, akin a petrified chicken,  lest I lose my only vacancy in East and Central Africa’s most hallmarked Poet’s fraternity (I swear, it’s true!).

Onwards to the gist of His Excellency’s instructions; I was to moderate the discussion that day!  

Who? What? Why? Me? Yes … me! The lousy, middling, unimpressive and prosaic-minded me!

Well, you know how the saying goes; ‘‘ If a child, uninvited, stealthily sneaks into a room full of elders, he may hide under the table and munch the falling crumbs …’’ (Well, it’s something along those lines, right?)

So, there stood I – staring back sheepishly at His Excellency, no doubt looking like a complete nitwit, and he expecting an answer.

The only thought on my mind was how an intellectual-Lilliputian (for in the Meet’s circle, I am indisputably one) was supposed to lubricate the engine of discourse amid such gigantic mental-gears. 

Friend, that is the extent of woe that can befalls some men in this life.

Anyhow, the subject of this week’s recital-preparatory discussion, somewhat related to the previous, and intended to be an extrapolation of the same, was;

 ‘‘The role of the artist in the transformation of society today …’’

Now, as you may have gathered already from last week’s notes, the first topic handled, in a series of several  to come as the Meet builds ‘team-thought’ in readiness for its October recital, was a broader umbrella of social operation i.e. culture, whose essence and historical impact on society were comprehensively explored.

Not wishing to be unduly eclectic in our dialectic, we thus decided to narrow the scope of culture to a more specific aspect; ART (and the artist who practices it), since this is perhaps the most conspicuous label we bear as a Poets’ society.

With about eight persons seated in a close-knit circle, we thought ourselves ready to begin.

 The distinguished Poets in this circle were; Gomme Emmanuel (Divine Quill), Archibalistic Agaba (The Sage/ Grand Maester), Peter Kagayi (Mwalimu Mkuu), Omerio (H.E), Justice Donald Maasa, Miss Harriet, Miss Jessica, Patrick Maasa (yes, the celebrity!), Professor Erapu, and of course myself (the misplaced oddball).

*

The discussions started off rather formally, with the moderator making a few quick recapitulations of previous sessions, and generally opening up space for contribution from a leveled theme-background.

Step one then involved taking apart the motion, word for word.

However, since only the word artist was introduced into the previous topic as a substitute for culture, the greatest time was spent upon dissecting this new word; given that the other motion constituents had been handled before.

• The Artist :

Here, only two competing narratives were submitted, albeit with several intricacies woven within. 

a.       The first was vocalized by Mwalimu Kagayi Peter, who argued that any being capable of expression had the capacity to make art, and that art was therefore tantamount to expression; be it an African boy carving mingling sticks from wood as play, or a mother balancing a water pot on her head on her way from the stream.

 He went ahead to contend that the need for survival is the very basis of expression, and thus the genesis of art.

Archibalistic the Sage, was his key convert.

b.       The second narrative, premised its dialectic on creativity and/or ingenuity. It refuted the requisite of expression merely for the formation of an artist. In other words, according to them, not only should the artist express himself, but he must do so creatively.

This was majorly propounded by His Excellency, who was closely supported by Poet Gomme.

Mr. Gomme, intriguingly, defined creativity as an inner force that spurs artistic mannerisms. We all accented to this one.

This head-on clash, however, nearly spiraled the discussion out of the moderator’s clasp, with a heated debate ensuing on the essence of creativity, vis-à-vis expression.

i.                     Was expression equivalent to mere reaction to an acting stimulus?

ii.                   Was creativity connotative of mere adaptation/improvement upon that already existent, or did it allude to invention of previously inexistent entities?

iii.                 Did creativity have to be easily comprehensible … or could abstractness and ‘cryptic’ forms of ‘art’ be regarded artistic indeed?

The questions raged on and on … like excited intellectual penguins hopping up and about the circle … until the learned Professor intervened.

ORIGINALITY!

Apparently, we had missed out on the concept in all our ratiocination.

 ‘‘Creativity implies originality,’’ said the professor.

It implies chartering new territory, sailing new seas and expanding frontiers; even when done within a prevailing domain.

Professor went ahead to make very brilliant illustrations of the concept, incorporating several breath-taking literary devices, and with the employ of such verbal finesse that I, (speaking only for myself), was all but literally blown away. [THE GUY’S THAT GOOD!]

Professor’s prime question for all present was, ultimately, given our understanding of the word, if the artist today was playing a relevant/ efficient role in transforming society?

Anyhow, after Professor had syringed us with his life-inducing dose of rationale, Grand Maestros Archibald took on the reigns, and boy, did he steer that speeding carriage!

Maestros Archie didn’t waste any-time, and summarily dismissed contemporary African society as both un-remembering of its glorious past, and unwilling to project a desirable future.

He lambasted the modern crop of African artists for being sell-outs, and being fully in cahoots with the capitalist system of production, which had, categorically speaking, denigrated all that was once noble and sacred about Africa.

We all moaned along with the Grand Maestros, nearly at the brink of intellectually-induced tears. But worry not yourself, no tears flowed. People’s integrity was eventually left intact.

Archie, however, went ahead to decry the negative portrayal of Africa in our modern artists’ works as both inordinate and unwarranted.

He opined that it was high time the ‘famous’ African mosaic of AK-47 wielding child-soldiers, starving bone-thin infants, and a hopeless future, was changed drastically.

Africa IS wealthy. Africa IS beautiful. Africa IS paradise: her artists are behooved thus, to begin shining light upon this dimension of the continent.

We all agreed, but just almost nearly.

Feeling my contentious spirit rise, my one question to Archie was,

‘’If you claim there were pre-colonial communes in Nkore(variant: Ankole) which didn’t know ‘poverty’, because they owned acres and acres of land … why then were their children dying from dysentery and malaria, yet these ‘wealthy’ people attributed such ailments to the gods’ disapproval?

This was my argument: Can a people claim to be have been wealthy simply because they had possession of ‘latent’ assets; land that wasn’t optimally in use, thousands of cattle infested with rinder-pest and ticks, rivers that were only used to fetch water in pots, and forests that only provided crude herbs or wood-fuel … ?

I didn’t agree that people could regard themselves wealthy when they still dwelt in mud-and-wattle huts, or thatch enclosures – even if they lived within the proximity of the greatest natural resource in the world.

Of what use is a jewel to a man who knows not its worth?

By placing us here, in the heart of natural abundance, perhaps that God in the sky had cast his pearls to the swine … but only perhaps …

But then again, by asking such questions, that’s just me, being me!

FINAL-WORD:

Despite the livid atmosphere however, the engagement had to come to an end at some point.

The moderator therefore commandeered the meeting into silence, before initiating a valedictory phase …

Now, though the Professor* left shortly before full closure, his last submission dwelt upon emphasizing the importance of motivation/objective in one’s artistic pursuits …

Indeed, we all agreed that it was imperative for every artist, current or prospective, to inquire of themselves,

 ‘Art … to what end?’

*Professor Erapu is an alumnus of Ntare School, Mbarara. And so is the homosapiens behind this blog :-)