A Kota reliquary figure from the Congo River, arts of central Africa exhibition at the Musée du Quai Branly. Photograph: Vincent Everarts/EPA
On finally reaching the entrance to the Congo River exhibition, on the upper ground floor, we caught sight of masks that, even from a distance, looked amazing, and equally attractive statues. But we resisted the temptation and headed for a map, in the hope of grasping the ideas underpinning the show, which aims to be much more than just a selection of works from the Congo River basin.
Two arrows on the map show how the Bantu languages spread out from their place of origin in Nigeria from about 3,000BC. One arrow follows the Atlantic coast south, as far as the mouth of the Congo river, arriving there about 2,000 years later. This branch corresponds to the western Bantus. The other arrow heads east towards the great lakes, also reached in about 1,000BC, bending southwards then turning west to follow the Congo and its tributaries. The two branches rejoined in the area now covered by Gabon and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
The two branches thus circumscribe a vast area, consisting of the river basin and a swath of equatorial forest. To plot the routes, linguists studied successive offshoots of the original Bantu language, identifying the links between the dialects that evolved through time and migration.
This preamble is necessary because François Neyt, who curated the exhibition (until 3 October), makes ample use of the data. He seeks out visible forms of continuity in the statues and masks, and in the religious concepts they reflect. Much as the language, there is unity in the art despite the distances. The subtitle of the exhibition is essential: Correspondence and Mutation of Form.
The show is divided into three parts. It looks first at a specific style of heart-shaped face thought to be common to several peoples – the Kwele, Vuvi and Lega – who also worked with wood or ivory, regardless of whether they were living on the shores of a river or in the depths of the forest.
The second section focuses on the reliquaries associated with specific ancestors fashioned by the Mbede or Fang peoples. Some are made of polished black wood, others are covered with pieces of brass. In some cases, the form is extremely simple, while others accumulate so many votive studs and adornments as to suggest some fantastic anatomy. What is essential in all of them is their magical force: they must contain a power or a spell.
The third part concentrates on the representation of women, the exaltation of their beauty and motherhood among the Punu, Luluwa and Kongo peoples. Here again, the centres of population are often far apart. This section is less convincing, as Neyt has stretched his point here.
The works themselves are splendid though, inventive and beautifully executed, leaving an overall impression of perfection. But different peoples place more emphasis on certain aspects than others. Fang designs are particularly simple, whereas the Songye figures are magnificently overdone.
When the presentation brings together several examples of a single type of object or figure (standing male figures with a closely trimmed beard from the Boyo-Bembe area, or the Kota's geometrical reliquaries) it is fascinating to see the persistence of a prototype and the variations from one workshop to the next. It is equally delightful to see how styles meet and combine, or how the statues and masks of a particular ethnic group are related, but without slavishly applying the same solutions in their representation of faces.
The exhibition feels inexhaustible. This is particularly the case for French-speaking visitors. Belgium having colonised and exploited the Congo, many of the finest pieces created in this region have found their way to collections there. They are represented here in large numbers, to demonstrate the ideas underpinning the show but also to show off the magnificence of what was once known as art nègre
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media Limited 2010
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