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The Metropolitan Museum of Art - How to Read
How to Read Oceanic Art
An engaging explanation of Oceanic art and an important gateway to wider appreciation of Oceanic heritage and visual culture
Art from Oceania, the region encompassing the islands of the central and south Pacific, spans hundreds of distinct artistic processes, formats, and mediums. Many people’s exposure to Oceanic art comes through its influence on the work of European artists, and therefore Oceanic works themselves often remain difficult for Western viewers to interpret and comprehend. How to Read Oceanic Art, the third book in a series of guides to understanding different artistic genres, helps elucidate this subject through explanation of specific objects.
The book analyzes the most illustrative Oceanic pieces from the Metropolitan Museum’s collection—including lively painted masks, powerful figurines, and intricately carved wooden poles—which together represent the extraordinary diversity of artistic traditions in the region. Attractive photography and clear, engaging texts explain how and why various works were made as well as how they were used. This publication is an invaluable resource for art historical study, and also an important gateway to wider appreciation of Oceanic heritage and visual culture.
Published by The Metropolitan Museum of Art/Distributed by Yale University Press
Art from Oceania, the region encompassing the islands of the central and south Pacific, spans hundreds of distinct artistic processes, formats, and mediums. Many people’s exposure to Oceanic art comes through its influence on the work of European artists, and therefore Oceanic works themselves often remain difficult for Western viewers to interpret and comprehend. How to Read Oceanic Art, the third book in a series of guides to understanding different artistic genres, helps elucidate this subject through explanation of specific objects.
The book analyzes the most illustrative Oceanic pieces from the Metropolitan Museum’s collection—including lively painted masks, powerful figurines, and intricately carved wooden poles—which together represent the extraordinary diversity of artistic traditions in the region. Attractive photography and clear, engaging texts explain how and why various works were made as well as how they were used. This publication is an invaluable resource for art historical study, and also an important gateway to wider appreciation of Oceanic heritage and visual culture.
Published by The Metropolitan Museum of Art/Distributed by Yale University Press
- GenresArtNonfiction
176 pages, Paperback
First published June 10, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
January 26, 2024
Published by Metropolitan Museum of Art, this book of 176 focuses more on the art, showing the beautiful art of Oceania is not just created for pleasure but has a functional purpose.
The photography is breathtaking, the 42 objects shown are all shot to show their details, sometimes from more than one angle, or in close-up. And I like how the book is divided, where each object is accompanied by commentary. These 42 objects are picked from 6 different regions of Oceania.
It was hard not to be blown away by the intricate details of these objects, where I just wondered how many hours this would have taken. This is truly a labour of love.
I think where the book fails or succeeds, depending on how you look at it, is the supporting text. The commentary focuses on the functional use of the object. Sometimes I would be left with clear impressions of one of the cultures, other times not so, but I’m thinking this is an introductory or starter book that leads you to other books. So here, it’s trying to keep it simple, letting the art be centre stage and not be overshadowed by the social and political history.
This makes sense to me, as the 42 objects chosen for this book are amazing and deserve this limelight.
The photography is breathtaking, the 42 objects shown are all shot to show their details, sometimes from more than one angle, or in close-up. And I like how the book is divided, where each object is accompanied by commentary. These 42 objects are picked from 6 different regions of Oceania.
It was hard not to be blown away by the intricate details of these objects, where I just wondered how many hours this would have taken. This is truly a labour of love.
I think where the book fails or succeeds, depending on how you look at it, is the supporting text. The commentary focuses on the functional use of the object. Sometimes I would be left with clear impressions of one of the cultures, other times not so, but I’m thinking this is an introductory or starter book that leads you to other books. So here, it’s trying to keep it simple, letting the art be centre stage and not be overshadowed by the social and political history.
This makes sense to me, as the 42 objects chosen for this book are amazing and deserve this limelight.
May 17, 2018
On the one hand, this is a neat book about an area of art that doesn't get nearly enough attention, and I learned some interesting things reading it.
On the other hand, this is a book in which I found a bunch of typos (small ones, but annoying), often couldn't tell which of several pictured pieces the text was referring to at a given a moment, and which managed to almost completely disregard Australia and specifically Australian painting (the entire reason I ordered the book from the library) presumably at least in part because, as near as I could tell, not a single contemporary artist or piece of work was included.
My disappointment is partly my fault. I should have looked into what this book would be covering in more detail before ordering it. But I still find the lack of contemporary artists more than a bit disconcerting and, frankly, disingenuous. And there's just no excuse for the typos, or for unclear figure references. Can the Metropolitan Museum of Art seriously not afford a proofreader? Or was it the copyeditor that they skipped? Both?
On the other hand, this is a book in which I found a bunch of typos (small ones, but annoying), often couldn't tell which of several pictured pieces the text was referring to at a given a moment, and which managed to almost completely disregard Australia and specifically Australian painting (the entire reason I ordered the book from the library) presumably at least in part because, as near as I could tell, not a single contemporary artist or piece of work was included.
My disappointment is partly my fault. I should have looked into what this book would be covering in more detail before ordering it. But I still find the lack of contemporary artists more than a bit disconcerting and, frankly, disingenuous. And there's just no excuse for the typos, or for unclear figure references. Can the Metropolitan Museum of Art seriously not afford a proofreader? Or was it the copyeditor that they skipped? Both?
August 1, 2022
Exemplary rather than comprehensive, this slim volume chooses specific pieces of Oceanic art from its major cultural areas to explain and stand in for the host of many artworks that comprise the total. Additional reading and sources are also carefully selected for breadth in given areas rather than great depth.
A nice primer for the topic, it's hardly the final word, but makes an excellent first impression.
A nice primer for the topic, it's hardly the final word, but makes an excellent first impression.
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March 18, 2022(I didn't read the whole book)
It's a great resource and contains lots of history, but I think it's a bit of a misnomer. It doesn't have anything in the title about the works shown only being those in the Met. There are quite a few types of Oceanic Art that are not represented.
It's a great resource and contains lots of history, but I think it's a bit of a misnomer. It doesn't have anything in the title about the works shown only being those in the Met. There are quite a few types of Oceanic Art that are not represented.
August 9, 2016
All in all this is a competent book. The illustrations and map are incredibly helpful to the reader to orient themselves. Kjellgren cleverly nods to the deep influence the artistic tradition of this region has had on western art, particularly starting with Gauguin, but only in passing.
Through a few judiciously chosen specimens, Kjellgren tries to bring contemporary readers up to speed on a bit more context and nuance about the Metropolitan Art Museum's collection of Oceanic art.
Perhaps of all the multiple entries, the most enriching example is of a house-post figure from New Guinea, shown here (not sure how to add images to goodreads so here is the link):
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collecti...
In what is effectively a "section" on this piece, Kjellgren discusses the multiple interpretations of this work of art. For instance, where exactly are the eyes? It depends on whether you see this as a solitary human, or as a crocodile (the book illustrates how it can be viewed that way; without the book it would have strained my imagination). The anatomical features are clearly demarcated, but are the critical facial features as obvious? Kjellgren's prose and judicious use of renderings of this image invite us to explore just how multifaceted this sculpture is. This chapter, perhaps more than any other, awakened me to the idea that a defining feature of Oceanic art is that one can read so many levels into it, and that the artists deliberately chose their presentation so that all are equally valid.
On to the book and writing itself. I don't read artbooks often, so referring to something as "Entry XYZ, Figure ABC" was a bit confusing until I got the hang of it ("Entry" is effectively "Section", and "Figure" often referred to a photo of a different artwork). The color of these pieces are much more vivid in this book than they are in the gallery, at least given the lighting, so I urge those who read this prior to viewing these parts of the museum to keep in mind that some features aren't as readily identifiable.
Generally solidly researched, there are parts of the writing that get annoying. The author repeatedly, and ad nauseum, alludes to just how complex these societies are. Frankly, this felt like a strawman. OK, this is 2016, the world is complex. Things are nonlinear. "Non-white" does not mean "simple". We get it - who thinks like that anymore? Alluding to complicated this or complicated that once or twice is sufficient. Any more and I found this repeated reference obnoxious. There is way too much of that sort of rhetoric in this book that I felt I was being preached to by a 21st century missionary.
The second was that there was a lot of silly equivocation. Sentences like "While the precise meaning of the particular ceremony BLAH BLAH BLAH remains uncertain" add nothing to our understanding. I often find that this sort of writing sets up an oblique strawman. Few scholars, or at least humanists, succeed in attaining the sort of certitude the author seems to set up these statements against. So I am not sure what kind of contrast they intend to set up. Why not simply something like "while controversial, scholars generally believe..." or "Hypotheses for what role this artifact served include: XYZ, ABC, and BLAH BLAH"? I get the authors are uncertain. I get that records in this part of the world from 100 years ago or even 40 years ago suck. But prevarication and filling books with the likes of that add nothing of value. And in a few passages, such as when discussing the ceiling reliefs like this:
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collecti...
that have drastically different meanings from other visually similar constructs, the author does correctly point out that they look similar but mean nothing alike, well, that only reinforces the academic adage about the value of skepticism. So when other works are presented with a gazillion qualifications I felt, well, then, why am reading your particular random reading except that you have credentials?
If the above seems unfairly harsh, it is. But I also hope to emphasizethat this kind of prevarication, while valued in scholarly writing, is hardly what a generalist audience seeks. Stick your neck out! Add footnotes, sure. And lots of them, but please - stop expecting your readers of a casual introduction like this to have to deal with the same existential crises you wrangle with about the structural soundness of your academic discipline.
A few notes on the subject matter upon which I don't want to skimp.
I add that the story behind much of this particular collection, which is appropriately not really delved upon in the book, is itself an arresting piece of puzzling drama wrapped up in the enigma of Michael Rockefeller's mysterious disappearance (well, at least to westerners) off the coast of New Guinea. Most of the pieces featured are donations in honor of Rockefeller, but Kjellgren wisely eschews this backstory to focus on the works themselves.
Through a few judiciously chosen specimens, Kjellgren tries to bring contemporary readers up to speed on a bit more context and nuance about the Metropolitan Art Museum's collection of Oceanic art.
Perhaps of all the multiple entries, the most enriching example is of a house-post figure from New Guinea, shown here (not sure how to add images to goodreads so here is the link):
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collecti...
In what is effectively a "section" on this piece, Kjellgren discusses the multiple interpretations of this work of art. For instance, where exactly are the eyes? It depends on whether you see this as a solitary human, or as a crocodile (the book illustrates how it can be viewed that way; without the book it would have strained my imagination). The anatomical features are clearly demarcated, but are the critical facial features as obvious? Kjellgren's prose and judicious use of renderings of this image invite us to explore just how multifaceted this sculpture is. This chapter, perhaps more than any other, awakened me to the idea that a defining feature of Oceanic art is that one can read so many levels into it, and that the artists deliberately chose their presentation so that all are equally valid.
On to the book and writing itself. I don't read artbooks often, so referring to something as "Entry XYZ, Figure ABC" was a bit confusing until I got the hang of it ("Entry" is effectively "Section", and "Figure" often referred to a photo of a different artwork). The color of these pieces are much more vivid in this book than they are in the gallery, at least given the lighting, so I urge those who read this prior to viewing these parts of the museum to keep in mind that some features aren't as readily identifiable.
Generally solidly researched, there are parts of the writing that get annoying. The author repeatedly, and ad nauseum, alludes to just how complex these societies are. Frankly, this felt like a strawman. OK, this is 2016, the world is complex. Things are nonlinear. "Non-white" does not mean "simple". We get it - who thinks like that anymore? Alluding to complicated this or complicated that once or twice is sufficient. Any more and I found this repeated reference obnoxious. There is way too much of that sort of rhetoric in this book that I felt I was being preached to by a 21st century missionary.
The second was that there was a lot of silly equivocation. Sentences like "While the precise meaning of the particular ceremony BLAH BLAH BLAH remains uncertain" add nothing to our understanding. I often find that this sort of writing sets up an oblique strawman. Few scholars, or at least humanists, succeed in attaining the sort of certitude the author seems to set up these statements against. So I am not sure what kind of contrast they intend to set up. Why not simply something like "while controversial, scholars generally believe..." or "Hypotheses for what role this artifact served include: XYZ, ABC, and BLAH BLAH"? I get the authors are uncertain. I get that records in this part of the world from 100 years ago or even 40 years ago suck. But prevarication and filling books with the likes of that add nothing of value. And in a few passages, such as when discussing the ceiling reliefs like this:
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collecti...
that have drastically different meanings from other visually similar constructs, the author does correctly point out that they look similar but mean nothing alike, well, that only reinforces the academic adage about the value of skepticism. So when other works are presented with a gazillion qualifications I felt, well, then, why am reading your particular random reading except that you have credentials?
If the above seems unfairly harsh, it is. But I also hope to emphasizethat this kind of prevarication, while valued in scholarly writing, is hardly what a generalist audience seeks. Stick your neck out! Add footnotes, sure. And lots of them, but please - stop expecting your readers of a casual introduction like this to have to deal with the same existential crises you wrangle with about the structural soundness of your academic discipline.
A few notes on the subject matter upon which I don't want to skimp.
I add that the story behind much of this particular collection, which is appropriately not really delved upon in the book, is itself an arresting piece of puzzling drama wrapped up in the enigma of Michael Rockefeller's mysterious disappearance (well, at least to westerners) off the coast of New Guinea. Most of the pieces featured are donations in honor of Rockefeller, but Kjellgren wisely eschews this backstory to focus on the works themselves.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews