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Entangled Textiles: A Project on European Fabrics on Kanak Objects

Textiles enchevêtrés : Un projet sur les tissus européens retrouvés sur les objets kanaks
Carolina Gallarini
p. 241-266

Résumés

Les études des collections kanak ont révélé que parmi les vastes corpus du patrimoine matériel Kanak dispersé dans plusieurs musées, un petit nombre de ces objets sont recouverts – ou faits – de textiles européens. Dans cet article méthodologique, j’illustrerai l’approche en plusieurs phases adoptée pour étudier l’intégration des textiles européens dans objets kanaks. Je collecterai un ensemble de 210 objets Kanak contenant des textiles européens dans leurs compositions, afin de générer de données supplémentaires sur leur fabrication, leur provenance et leur signification sociale. Par la suite, grâce à leur comparaison et à l’analyse approfondie résultant de deux visites de recherche, il sera possible de mettre en évidence de nouveaux témoignages liés à l’utilisation de ce type de textiles. Ce projet entend fournir une base pour dévoiler la signification culturelle des tissus européens dans le contexte de la culture matérielle Kanak.

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Introduction

1After the extensive research work carried out to create the Inventory of the Kanak Scattered Heritage (Inventaire du Patrimoine Kanak Dispersé ipkd) and the recent international exhibitions of collections from Oceania, there can be no doubt on the vast number of objects collected in Kanaky present in anthropology museums around the world. Started by Roger Boulay and Emmanuel Kasarhérou at the behest of Jean-Marie Tjibaou, the Inventory, which reflects 40 years of work, is well known in material culture studies; today, it numbers approximately 17 000 objects scattered around the world in 110 different institutions. The culmination of efforts involving networking, cartography, and systematic categorization saw the inauguration of two distinctive exhibitions exclusively centred upon Kanak art: De Jade et de Nacre in 1990 and Kanak l’Art est une Parole in 2014. Both exhibitions not only showcased in Paris, the first at the Musée national des arts africains et océaniens, the other at the Musée du quai Branly, but also in Nouméa, at the Musée territorial de Nouvelle-Calédonie for the first, at the centre culturel Tjibaou for the second. Furthermore, it is worth noting that a plethora of Kanak objects have also been featured in various other recent exhibitions, such as at the Oceania exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts in London and at the Musée du quai Branly-Jacques Chirac in Paris (mqb-jc) (2018) and the Power & Prestige exhibition in Venice and Paris, respectively at the Palazzo Franchetti and the mqb-jc (2022). Several more specific exhibitions on Kanak culture have been inaugurated in French cities as well, such as Trajectoires Kanak at the Musée Anne-de-Beaujeu in Moulins (2017), Kanak, Enquête sur une collection at the Musée du Berry in Bourges (2020) and Carnets Kanak at the mqb-jc in Paris (2022), which will also be displayed at the centre culturel Tjibaou (2024). In this vast ensemble and through these works, it is possible to observe various objects wrapped, intertwined or made with pieces of fabric that were not available in the archipelago before European colonisation. This article reports on the initial cataloguing of 210 objects in the institutions reported in the tables below, in order to allow their identification and examination of the materials of which they are composed. These descriptions will be followed by the comparison of the data collected during research visits and the study of museum digital archives. Thanks to this catalogue, it will be possible to develop the project with new data and to highlight new narratives linked to the acquisition, as well as the meaning of these types of European textiles within Kanak objects. Close-up photographs, photomicrographs and related archival records have been extremely compelling for my first approach, making them well-suited for future studies. For instance, the connections of these fabrics with military uniforms have already been noted by some museum curators: the large number of weapons covered with fabrics from French uniforms can be relevant in the study of Melanesian warfare, a subject extensively investigated by scholars such as Michel Naepels (2013) and Alain Saussol (1979). In other cases, identical textile material, or at the very least, textiles featuring the same printing method and pattern design, can be identified across disparate objects, sometimes preserved within distant museum collections. These similarities could add new sources to the provenance research of the single museum items, utilising the cross-referencing of the data in the archival files. The main objective of this paper is to study the exchange relationships that created these objects and the round trip of the fabrics that wrap them – from Europe to Kanaky and then back again to European museums.

Methodology

2The project begins with the study of my personal archive of photographs of Kanak objects taken in various museums. During my research for my MA thesis on Kanak objects as “ambassadors” and their representations, I visited various European institutions that house collections from Oceania (Gallarini, 2017; 2020). Thus, with the opportunity to closely examine the Kanak objects exhibited both in permanent displays and in storage facilities, it is possible to notice resemblances in terms of colour, pattern, and material evident in their textiles. Moreover, compared to the totality of Kanak objects located in museums, it is interesting to note that the application of fabrics is reserved to a small number. From this discrepancy, I have derived my initial set of research questions, which encompassed the motivation for such incorporation of materials absent prior to European colonisation. Why are only some objects from Kanaky covered or made with European fabrics? Could it be related to a more recent dating and have different cultural implications? How were these fabrics found and why are they so similar across collections? This first phase of my project involved both a review of the literature and a quantitative approach in the sampling of the first items, in order to identify a large number of Kanak objects to analyse and compare.

3Although the idea of this investigation dates back to 2015, the actual research began in September 2022, when I had the opportunity to visit the storage rooms of the musée d’Histoire naturelle in Lille during the Pacific Arts Association-Europe annual meeting. The museum holds a total of 157 Kanak objects, eight of which feature European fabrics. David Verhulst, the curator of the Ethnographic Collections, showed a group of objects from Oceania preserved in their storage cases, including a Kanak ceremonial axe. This is covered in a lightweight blue cotton fabric with an undyed polka dot pattern and strongly reminded me of some other similar axes, for example one on display at the Museo delle Civilità in Rome (photos 1 & 2, p. 243).

4Photo 1. – ceremonial axe (Inv. N.NNBA3581, storage), musée d’Histoire naturelle, Lille

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 2. – ceremonial axe, Museo delle Civiltà, Rome

Photo 2. – ceremonial axe, Museo delle Civiltà, Rome

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

5First, I investigated the museum archives, considering both their paper and digital forms. In both cases, the object record was analysed mainly to transcribe the materials tag filled out by curators. Predominantly focused on archival cards, these kinds of research are very often dependent on museum workers who have studied the items and drawn the necessary conclusions to complete templated blanked papers of the database. This implies that on occasion, materials might not have been formally documented but are discernible solely through the uploaded photographs. In alternative instances, the absence of photographs and/or descriptive particulars precludes further analysis of a given object through archival research. However, it is increasingly common to find a list of materials in these digital databases, whilst in others a description of the object can fill some gaps regarding the presence of European textiles in Kanak collections, containing a fabric identification or its origin. In addition to the material identification, dates and places of origin could enrich this project’s narratives. Thus, exploring digital databases and archives is a necessary next step to obtain valuable data for this study, although further verifications and constant evaluation are required. Some museum archive websites warn the user, before accessing the search field, that these databases are continually operated and updated. For example, the Pitt Rivers Museum Online Collection website asks its users to:

“Bear in mind that these are working databases that are constantly being updated. It is important to see how objects were perceived in the past; therefore we preserve all the information ever recorded. Some of this historic terminology is discriminatory and offensive.” (Pitt Rivers Museum, 2023)

6Keeping in mind the limitations of archival research explained above, some data collected during my digital evaluations may vary. When these records show a list of materials that compose the object, European textiles are catalogued with different names – “fabric”, “cotton”, “cloth”, “wool”, etc. These specifications, evincing varying degrees of precision, have been noted and evaluated first to complete the tables presented in this publication. Still more captivating for deriving cultural narratives are some records that include an approximative provenance of the textile – such as European or French; links between the materials and French military uniforms (for instance, the strips of European red fabric on the handles of the two Kanak hatchets1 kept in the musée de l’Homme, in Paris, are marked as coming from a French military coat); and particular materials, such as silk (see the case of a ceremonial axe with the shaft wrapped in silk2, according to Collections Home of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, located at the Harvard University). Because of these circumstances, I started a focused study to learn how these institutions obtained this information. Given the generic European origin of such textiles, what sources did the museum curator use to establish that the fabric came from specific European states, or even from uniforms? A follow-up question on the tests used to establish the types of fabric was asked to try to find a Non-Destructive Testing (also commonly referred to as ndt) method or a study already started on the subject. The problem encountered in this secondary research was linked with the usual issues in archival research (i.e. because the folders had been completed by previous curators, the collection manager does not know how they had reached these conclusions).

7Regarding the literature review and previous studies on the subject, the main sources were Roger Boulay’s notes, books and analysis. Ethnologist, author and museum curator, Boulay is the first reference for the study on Kanak art, together with Emmanuel Kasarhérou, president/director of the mqb-jc since 2020. Since the 1980s, the two researchers have dedicated their studies to the identification and research of Kanak objects in museums worldwide. This collaboration has led to the creation of the ipkd, the inauguration of various exhibitions between France and Nouméa, and the drafting of catalogues, publications, drawings and annotations (Boulay, 1990; Kasarhérou, 2013 & 2014; Gallarini, 2019, 2020 & 2021). The only precise reference for this project is a paragraph in a book, De l’etoffe végétale aux cotonnades et andrinoples, where Roger Boulay describes clubs and axes of the Kanak culture that present European fabrics (Boulay 2015: 56). Also remarkable in this section is a quoted letter written by Father Bernard in 1858 from the Loyalty Islands, where the missionary recounts the use of red, blue or white European cloths as body ornaments in local rituals and celebrations (Boulay, 2015: 56). Boulay’s text also refers to a substitution of local materials for international ones, arguing that European textiles took the place of cords, endemic plant fibres or flying fox hair. As can be seen from the analysis of the 210 Kanak objects involved in this project, both materials are often still present on the same objects. However, this substitution is also explained from a cultural point of view by the ethnographer, who links blue to an “élément culturel plus ancien”, as the pigment was already locally obtainable, and red to a preference for this colour on the part of the local populations, already noted by Johann Reinhold Forster, a naturalist who arrived to the archipelago in 1774 as part of the crew of the British explorer James Cook (Boulay, 2015: 56). Another perspective is offered about the discourse on the integration of European clothing in Vanuatu, where this adoption entailed more than a mere exchange of material attributes. Rather, it signified the incorporation of an entirely new framework of concepts and differentiations encapsulated within the distinctive material manifestation of the introduced attire (Bolton, 2003: 126). In addition, brief notes on European fabrics can be found in the same book among Boulay’s watercolours, which have also been exhibited at the Carnets Kanak exhibition, at the mqb-jc in Paris, in 2023. Boulay’s drawings have been collected in some volumes such as the Carnet Kanak catalogue (Boulay & Kasarhérou, 2020) and printed in limited edition as larger format cards, called Art Kanak, Savoir-faire Traditionnels.

The sampling methods of the museums analysed

8A total of 28 museums were studied, selected on the basis of a) previous research visits, b) availability of a digital archive, and c) personal communications with the curators. Table 1 contains the core list of 22 institutions, the total number of Kanak objects kept in their collections, and objects that have European fabrics visible through the researches explained above. As for the total number of objects from Kanaky, the data is often rounded up during communications or in publications. The third column of Table 1 shows the total number of identified objects that feature European textiles. To obtain a more precise percentage, Table 1 and Figure 1 only show institutions for which numbers were easier to ascertain. Although the list of the remaining six museums falling outside this group is visible in Table 2, it was imperative to acknowledge their objects featuring European textiles showcased in permanent other collections or exhibits. These 16 additional items were added to the first group of 194, resulting in the 210 Kanak objects wrapped in or made of European fabrics.

9Then, I contacted some collection managers, and received many responses in time for this publication. These correspondences, which aimed at requesting more information on their Kanak collections started on the 12th of October 2022 and I still get weekly responses (February 2023). Thanks to these exchanges, I have organised three research visits in January 2023. One of the three visits took me to the Carnets Kanak exhibition at the mqb-jc in Paris, which displayed a Kanak club with many fabrics tied in the middle of the handle (photo 3). The textiles on 71.1893.21.2 show different colours and thicknesses and had already attracted my attention during the evaluation of the museum’s digital database. The bundle is catalogued as made of cotton and paper mulberry, primarily used to make tapa. Photos of these fabrics and their folds were taken at the exhibition, in order to capture close details.

Photo 3. – Club (Inv. N. 71.1893.21.2), mqb-jc, Paris

Photo 3. – Club (Inv. N. 71.1893.21.2), mqb-jc, Paris

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

10The other two research visits were to the Pitt Rivers Museum and the British Museum, from which a total of 790 Kanak objects had been previously estimated from both the combined online catalogues. In their storage, I was able to analyse 22 Kanak objects with European fabrics wrapped around the handles or their ensemble. These were tackled using the following approach:

  1. Taking pictures of the whole object from diverse angles. The photo of the complete item almost always accompanies the archival cards of the single object in online databases. In some cases, however, the photo is not present or is not of sufficient quality to evaluate the materials (photos 16 & 17).

  2. Measuring the extension of the fabric on the object and the patterns. The length measurement helps give a general measure of the size of the fabric. The pattern measurements highlight the differences between designs, especially in the case of the circumferences of the polka dots. Taking further measurements may enable the calculation of the total size of the cloth (photos 7 & 9).

  3. Taking close-up photos of the textiles, highlighting creases, edges, holes, cuts, stains, and the cords that hold the fabric in place. The primary purpose of taking close-ups of the fabric is to capture the colour, especially in cases where a pattern is present. The original colour is more vivid within the folds, which have suffered less exposure to external agents. Fabric edges are used to evaluate whether the piece has been cut or torn, and also help estimate the thickness of the material. Holes in the weaving show the deterioration of some fabrics, especially lightweight ones; in some cases, an underlying material is visible. Often, the fabric completes a single turn on the handle, with little or no overlap, so it can be deduced that the cloth was already small in size (photo 12). Conversely, in other objects, the fabric has been wrapped up around the handle several times, thereby increasing the thickness of the object (photos 9 & 11). A final example of rips reveals that European textiles can be placed over a layer of tapa, the barkcloth produced on the islands of the Pacific Ocean (photomicrograph 2). Constructed from bark softened by a process of soaking and beating, tapa is not a weaved fabric. The cords that keep the textiles attached to the object are sources of further information for this study. These can be made of plant fibres, often resulting in a light brown colour, or of flying fox hair, typically of reddish shade (photos 8 & 11). Moreover, the original colour of the fabric is more noticeable where the strings’ tension has loosened. In other cases, these intricate strings hide other pieces of fabric beneath intertwines (photos 18, 19 & 20).

  4. Taking photomicrographs of the textile, zooming in on the thread structures, the wool fibres, the patterns, the folds and cut or torn edges. Being able to take optical-microscope photographs is a key element in this project, as they depict the exact texture of the materials. This method of analysis can facilitate a more precise identification of the fabrics and is preferable to methods that require taking samples of the material. The objects were photographed using the yinama Magnification Microscopes Camera, with a magnification of 50X–1000X, connected to my smartphone. Another benefit of using this type of microscope is that it enables thread counts after having performed a calibration. This practice is usual in archaeology and textile studies as part of the Pentagon model, which was established in 1997 by handweaver Lena Hammarlund, to facilitate and broaden comparison within or between different archaeological textiles (2004: 106). The crafting factors influencing a fabric’s properties that compose this pentagon are: yarn properties, weave, thread count, weaving methods, and finishing processes. Additional criteria include variability in thread spacing and thread movement due to torsion, friction, and fabric density (2004: 107). The led lights were also useful to shed light on details. The most popular method for determining fibre classification is the burning test, in which a sample is burnt, and the distinctive characteristics of the burning fabric are observed (Collier, 1977: 233; Corbman, 1983: 254). The burning test involves igniting a small sample of the fabric and examining factors such as the smell, colour of the flame, residue left behind, and the behaviour of the fabric as it burns. These observations provide valuable information about the composition of the material and are widely used in textile analysis. The “feeling test,” on the other hand, involves manually assessing the texture and characteristics of the fabric by touch. Although the burning test is more effective than the feeling test, it presents some limitations, especially in museology, due to its destructive nature, which would risk irreparable damage to rare and fragile artifacts. Additionally, its reliance on subjective judgment and the lack of quantitative data makes it less reliable and informative for preserving and cataloguing textiles. In this case, a Non-Destructive Testing is preferred against a variety of analytical techniques available for museum textiles (Sato et al., 2011: 55). Non-Destructive Testing encompasses the inspection of materials or assemblages, without damaging or affecting artefacts, with varying degrees of refinement (Hum-Hartley, 1978: 4). In 1978, when Hum-Hartley devised these techniques, there was a rapid progress being made in the science of Non-Destructive Testing. However, its application to material heritage and historic textiles has received little attention in museology, especially when compared to archaeology researches. The same author also pointed out the relevance of Non-Destructive Testing in restorations, to recognise different applications in the field of preservation work (Hum-Hartley, 1978: 4–5). In addition, the most ideal techniques

“would need to be both non-invasive (samples do not need to be removed) and non-destructive (no damage caused), whilst still providing useful results. Such analysis can help inform curators and conservators both of the technical art history as well as the condition of the objects.” (Luxford et al., 2019: 1)

11Thus, the museum textile collections can also be identified through comparison with pre-existing scientific studies, such as photos in the Handbook of Textiles (Collier, 1970). By informing about the types of fabrics, this book also explains the history of their production processes. These reasons have led me to choose a portable microscope to develop my archive.

12In the subsequent sections of this article, I will conduct an exploration of these four data acquisition methods. Specifically, I will compare and analyze the statistics gathered during our visits to museums, examinations of storage facilities, interviews with collection managers, and the extensive research conducted in digital archives. Through this comprehensive examination, this article aims not only to provide initial descriptions but also to draw the first conclusions about the indigenisation of European textiles wrapped around Kanak objects.

The spread of European textiles in Kanaky

13The fact that textiles on certain Kanak objects have a different place of origin from that of the other materials is already known, as attested in the literature and the museum inventories. Captions like “cotton”, “wool” and/or “European” fabrics can be found in major sources, such as the archives of the British Museum or Roger Boulay’s publications (2005; 2020). This is further confirmed by the methods of production of European cloth, which are different from those originating in Oceania. The manufacture of European fabrics underwent a major breakthrough during the Industrial Revolution. Prior to the innovations of this period on the loom, the silk-throwing machine and the spinning wheel, textiles were predominantly made of wool, and hand-spun or manufactured with heavy hammers driven by water. The technological innovations allowed quicker cotton production, eventually replacing wool in the emerging textile industry. The material itself was seen as an improvement in terms of handling and processing in Europe. Plant-based fabrics exhibit consistent and uniform properties, reflecting their inherent homogeneity. In contrast, wool fibres exhibit a more diverse and variable behaviour due to their fickleness. Moreover, the adoption of new plant-based fabrics garnered greater fervour from European buyers compared to wool. After the Industrial Revolution, it gained preference due to technological advancements like the spinning jenny and power loom, making cotton production more efficient. Cotton’s availability, faster production, lower cost, comfort, and alignment with changing fashion trends further contributed to its popularity, as did colonial trade networks and ease of dyeing. This newfound fabric’s lighter weight not only facilitated its popularity but also allowed new sewing patterns, making cotton the favoured textile choice for various applications.

14The first European colonisation of Kanaky occurred around the same time as the Industrial Revolution. James Cook was the first European to reach Grande Terre in 1774, followed by missionaries, and then by the French, who officially integrated the territory into the French Empire in 1853. During these voyages, the European settlers brought and traded their textile productions, which explains the widespread presence of cotton on these islands. According to these sources, the fabrics have likely been available to Kanak populations since the early years of colonisation. These European fabrics could have been acquired by several possible methods:

15Trading. Numerous authors have pointed out that European textiles exercised considerable significance as “intermediaries” between Pacific islanders and the early Europeans in Oceania. According to Serge Tcherkézoff (2004), the transition from tapa to European fabrics marked a shift in cultural practices in 1820s Polynesia. Imported textiles were seen as more practical and durable than tapa cloth, which gradually declined in some formal clothes, especially in interior spaces (Tcherkézoff, 2004: 160). In 1838, during a visit to Tahiti, naval doctor Honoré Jacquinot expressed his disappointment when noticing that locals mostly purchased clothing from missionaries at high costs (Sturma, 1998: 99). These practices, where locals purchased imported clothings, played a significant role in breaking down certain cultural barriers and fostering easier communication during the early interactions (Sturma, 1998: 100).

16Historical analyses pertaining to the trade of European textiles in Oceania are intertwined with the changes occurring within Indigenous appearance and the impact of religious colonialism. The transition to Western-style clothing included the adoption of more modest dresses for women and trousers for men, which became emblematic of Christian influence in Oceania. They incorporated industrially manufactured textiles such as linen, cotton, and silk. In addition to their derivatives including calico (heavy, plain-woven, not-fully-processed cotton), chintz (calico subject to woodblock dyeing), cambric (a plain-weave fabric, initially woven in its natural greige state, subsequently undergoing processes of bleaching, piece-dyeing, and frequently receiving a glazing or calendering treatment), and serge (notable for its twill weave construction resulting in distinct diagonal ridges on both surfaces, achieved through a two-up, two-down weaving pattern). Those textiles were often sourced from industrial centres in the UK, France, and New England, as well as artisanal workshops in China (Jolly, 2014: 429). These materials were predominantly adopted by women and subsequently held a significant role within networks of exchange, wealth distribution, and ceremonies (Nuku, 2023: 30). At the same time, the emphasis on sewing, quilting, and embroidery skills grew, mainly brought by missionaries’ wives (Cory-Pearce, 2005: 75). Various examples and studies can be cited on this topic, such as the introduction of quilting in Hawai’i in 1820, or the connection between needlework and conversion in Aotearoa in the mid-19th century (Hammond, 1993; Thomas, 2000; Mochinaga Brandon & Woodard, 2004). In both cases, missionaries’ wives initiated quilting and sewing classes for high-ranking Hawaiian women and Māori young women, using mostly imported calico (Cory-Pearce, 2005: 76; Jolly, 2014: 439).

17Also notable was the introduction of a dress for women, often described as similar to a nightgown, called Mother Hubbard or mission dress (robe mission in French), which was accompanied by the materials needed to create it. Historically, anthropological studies often framed the mission dress as a manifestation of religious colonialism, and associated concerns with native nudity. On the contrary, more recent studies have unveiled an alternative perspective, illustrating how these garments were not imposed on Oceanic Christians (Bolton, 2002; 2005; Jolly, 2014). They were rather embraced and developed into symbols of national identity, particularly among women. Serving more than simply as symbols of Christian conversion, mission dresses were also worn as expressions of beauty, dignity, and empowerment, reflecting a convergence with modernity. It is worth noting, however, that the same pubblications also advocate a more complex picture of the local narratives surrounding the interplay between Indigenous and introduced clothing. While emphasizing Indigenous women’s agency and appropriation, it is crucial to remember the role of colonial power and capitalist modernity intertwined with Christian influence in Oceania (Bolton, 2002: 168, 2005: 26; Jolly, 2014: 452).

18Anna Paini, who dedicated many studies to the Kanak mission dress, notes the limited interest for Kanak clothing in historical and ethnographic research (2017). According to Paini, the sole known earlier publication is in a special issue of the Journal de la Société des Océanistes written by Patrick O’Reilly and Jean Poirier in 1953 (2017: 141). They explain that the French administration was primarily interested in dressing Kanak chiefs in their uniforms (Paini, 2017: 143). Similar to other mission dresses in Oceania, the robe mission has become a conduit for creative expression, manifesting itself over time through new sartorial techniques in Kanaky (Paini, 2017: 141).

19Specific studies on the historical economy of the archipelago often discuss sandalwood trades, whereas the European fabrics market is less often addressed. Dorothy Shineberg (1967; already quoted by Boulay, 2015: 55), reports an increase in the demand for European cloth in parts of Grande Terre since mid-1848, already suggesting a replacement of local currencies (1967: 148). An example presents an order placed by businessman Robert Towns for trading more than 1 000 different pieces of European fabrics in various sizes, including blue denim and calico (Shineberg, 1967: 150). Shineberg also includes a linguistic analysis related to the English word “coat”, still used in the Hienghène region at the time of her research (1960s). This word is associated with another specific acquisition record of European fabric in the same areas. More specifically, a red coat was gifted by Robert Towns to the local chief, who cut it in pieces and gave them to other Kanak chiefs (1967: 87). This gesture meant sharing his power and symbols among more than one social actor. A final example of a single fabric acquisition was a payment made in the Loyalty Islands in 1842. In this case, two tons of sandalwood were exchanged by trader Andrew Cheyne for a modest number of small goods, including a cotton shawl (1967: 155). The increase in demand for European fabrics in the archipelago economy was remarkable in some areas, but it was also a momentary boom: a year later, the demand for tobacco overtook all other trades in the archipelago (1967: 169). Roger Boulay also mentions another common trade of blue fabrics from Manchester, Mulhouse and Basel at the beginning of the 1800s (Boulay 2015: 56). Further studies of the textile trade, targeting records and the history of industrialisation of the country, may add new sources to these studies or help identify Kanak museum objects and their textiles. Both authors, Shineberg and Boulay, identify trade as the main method of acquiring these fabrics (Shineberg 1967; Boulay 2015).

  • Textile production in situ. Later production of textiles in Grande Terre must also be taken into consideration, as noted in a 1913 report on the cotton industry in the world. It reported a greater effort by France in the production of cotton in its many colonies, such as New Caledonia (Woeikof 1913: 294). The history of cotton industrialisation is also strongly linked with immigration to these islands, encouraged by the French government, with different geographical and social origins. The first industrial colonial attempt was made by settlers from Réunion in the 1870s, to plant sugar canes, commissioned by Governor Charles Guillain. The second was based on the development of the coffee industry promoted by governor Paul Feillet around the turn of the 19th century. These operations registered little income. Eventually, the last agricultural experimentation, around Bourail (in the Southern Region of Grande Terre), launched the cultivation of cotton in 1926, after the First World War and during the serious economic crisis linked to the collapse of nickel exports (Teyssier, 2013: 47). This last attempt at an industrial establishment failed as well, leading the Colonial Office to suspend financial support for the establishment of settlers (Terrier, 2010: 14). Many Kanak objects kept in museums and included in this study predate the First World War, in terms of their production as well as acquisition in the collections. This suggests that these fabrics were mostly traded, while the use of European machinery for local production remained relatively infrequent. Further research into the history of the industrialisation of the archipelago should be undertaken to gain more knowledge about cotton production in situ. Combining this thesis of the possible in situ production with the trading accounts mentioned in the previous paragraph, it would be possible to reconnect Kanak objects in museums with the history of cotton in Kanaky.

  • The warfare acquisition hypothesis. The fact that some objects are reported as being wrapped in military uniform stripes led me to suppose that some fabrics may have been acquired by the Kanak population during wars. Supporting this hypothesis is a certain similarity between the colours of the European fabrics on Kanaky objects and the French military and marine uniforms of the period. The idea that they were “war trophies” is rejected by Roger Boulay because military uniforms were sometimes donated to designated chiefs (2015: 56). However, I do not think that warfare-related provenance can be totally excluded from this analysis, given the very high number of Kanak objects with European fabrics and their textile variety.

20Moreover, as it is possible to read in many publications on the archipelago’s history, numerous wars between Kanak groups and European settlers occurred from the early 1860s, culminating in the 1878 war in the central region (Saussol, 1979: 233). Also called the Great Kanak Revolt, this war ended on September 1st of the same year, resulting in the killing and beheading of Chief Ataï, his second in command Baptiste, and his advisor Andja – sometimes described as his sorcerer or healer. Alongside them, Ataï’s son and four other warriors also suffered the same fate. The heads of Ataï and his companion were brought to France by naval doctor Pierre-Just Navarre, arriving in Paris in 1879. They were donated by Navarre to Paul Broca, founder of the Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, who treated the two skulls as in use on osteological findings at the time (David-Ives, 2017: 177). These treatments are seen as ethnocentric and racially biased practices today. Indeed, Chief Ataï’s skull was examined to validate the anthropometric method, a practice rooted in the belief that physical attributes could reveal cognitive and behavioral traits. Such practices in anthropology, steeped in colonial biases, have left a lasting stain, making reconciliation efforts in places like Kanaky more challenging (David-Ives, 2017: 179). Both the heads were brought back to Kanaky in 2014, entrusted to Grand Chief Bergé Kawa, who tirelessly fought for their repatriation while also seeking the return of lands associated with the 1878 war, which remain in private French ownership. When the two skulls were placed in small coffins, Kawa expressed discomfort, acknowledging that they reopened old wounds only time and reconciliation can heal (Bolis, 2014). He emphasized how Chief Ataï’s death fostered an enduring activism against colonisers and continuing to stir emotions among Kanak independentists, who identify Chief Ataï as a national martyr who perished in an unequal struggle against the encroaching forces of white imperialism (Douglas, 1991; Bolis, 2014). Still today, Chief Ataï symbolizes a complex figure in Kanak history, becoming a powerful and even potentially divisive ancestor and now, in contemporary times, emerging as an integral part of Kanaky’s history that is to be shared with future generations. (Favole et al., 2020: 210). His impact on contemporary political discourses is addressed by Eddy Banaré in a 2018 article that illustrates how the utilization of Chief Ataï’s images symbolizes a connection with colonial history (Banaré, 2018).

21The death toll of the 1878 war numbered 190 Europeans and affiliates, of which 125 from La Foa and Boulouparis, the geographic centre of the war. It is pertinent to note that Kanak casualties, although not documented in the lists of names, were estimated at approximately 1200 in a publication from right after the war. This toll represented approximately 30 % of the Indigenous population residing in the central of Grande Terre during in 1979 (Saussol, 1979: 242). Among the non-Melanesian casualties, many were part of the French military – some in high-ranking positions. For example, Frédéric Garnier lists some names of naval commanders or captains who died in those battles (2020: 53). Further civil wars followed up in the country around the beginning of the 19th century, so a connection between warfare, relative European losses and their clothing/uniforms seems plausible to explain a likely and perhaps limited acquisition of fabrics in war contexts; the fabric would then have been applied to Kanak objects as another symbol of power during the 19th century when they were created and then acquired into European museums. This field could be extended with research into those killed in action and how their corpses were taken care of. Could Kanak groups have obtained fabrics from the clothing and uniforms of European settlers who were casualties in the wars? Interestingly, the muséum de Toulouse has in its permanent collection a ceremonial axe that was listed as belonging to Chief Ataï (photo 4), whose handle is wrapped in a thick blue cloth, similar to the descriptions of heavy military fabrics. Unfortunately, the museum does not have any further information on the acquisition of this ceremonial axe. Furthermore, existing literature on Chief Ataï and the trophyification of his head does not indicate that Navarre transported an axe to France during his journey. Uncovering the provenance and history of this weapon could significantly enrich the history of the country and colonial practices. Additionally, it would be interesting to learn how one of the greatest opponents to the French government, even before the war of 1878, came into possession of this particular piece of fabric.

Photo 4. – The axe of Chief Ataï (Inv. N. MHNT ETH.AC NC 170), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse

Photo 4. – The axe of Chief Ataï (Inv. N. MHNT ETH.AC NC 170), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse

(courtesy of Sylviane Bonvin Pochstein, ©muséum de Toulouse)

22Melanesian warfare has already been investigated by political anthropologist Michael Naepels, who described the “objects of wars” in his study on conventions of the use of violence in Houaïlou, in the Northern Province of the archipelago (2013: 71-110). This chapter contains many ethnographical examinations of the stones used during warfare and their cultural meanings, as well as an exhaustive history of weapons collected by Europeans in the archipelago, ranging from military souvenirs to anthropological finds. However, there is no reference to Kanak objects being modified like those considered in this work, neither after the war nor with European fabrics. The possible acquisition of European textiles in conflicts and their application to objects could be another distinctive Melanesian practice of war against European repressions. Regardless of the nature of their acquisition, precious knowledge can be added to the object biographies and their creation to initiate parallel research on the history of French uniforms. On this subject, it is important to mention some publications such as the Histoire des Troupes de Marine au travers de l’Uniforme by Garnier or Les Troupes de Marine, 1622-1984 published by a collective in 1984. The series of illustrated books on troops by Osprey Publishing (Chartrand, 2019) is another good introduction to the topic, but a more specific publication is Les Armées en Nouvelle-Calédonie de 1853 à 1939, by Luc Chevalier and Jean-Claude Fevai (1989). A question that consequently arises from this theme points to the seams, linings and buttons found on the uniforms. As visible in the bibliography mentioned, troop coats had two or more series of golden buttons, as well as decorations with contrasting colours, seams and edges. I found none of these testimonies of European techniques on the two case studies’ objects; on the contrary, the material appears cut or torn on the margins.

Description of the group of Kanak objects examined and the subsequent sub-divisions created

23The 210 Kanak objects taken into consideration in this project are mostly weapons (Table 4). The most common are clubs or axes with handles wrapped with European fabrics. Kanak clubs are recognised for their different shapes and, in the case of the 178 axes and clubs I examined, can present diverse types of materials knotted or braided directly onto the handle or at the base, or anchored by intricately intertwined cords of plant fibres or flying fox hair.

24On the majority of the 64 ceremonial axes, the handle is tightly and completely wrapped in fabric, held in place by an intricate weave of cords. Often, a European fabric covers the base, knotted at the top or surmounted by braided cords. In rare cases, the cloth is placed on the blade, in the binding point between the green stone and the handle.

25One of the items that can be made almost completely of European cloth is the pouch of kanak monnaie, a valuable social object used as gift which is made up of a string of beads and small sculptures, tête de monnaie, and its pouch, étui à monnaie. Contemporary artistic craftsmanship of these artifacts persists extensively in Kanaky, and numerous examples of monnaies have been acquired or donated to museum collections in recent years. One noteworthy instance includes the donation of some monnaies to institutions during the inaugural ceremonies of the exhibition Kanak: L’Art est une Parole in 2013 (Kasarhérou & Bouly, 2013). Given that the focus of this study is oriented toward historical textiles, the dating of these objects, as established in existing databases, necessitated the exclusion of a significant number of more recently created monnaies. This smaller group of ten items was treated separately (as the “Miscellaneous” category) due to their unique creation process. Some of them are made entirely of European material. For instance, item MNC 99.3.1, kept at the Musée de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, whose pouch is composed mostly of a dark blue wool piece from an administration uniform (Kasarhérou & Boulay, 2013: 26). Additionally, the symbolic meaning of the monnaies is less associated with war.

26Throughout the museums I investigated, 22 Kanak objects did not fit into any of the above categories, but still feature European textiles; they are reported in Table 3 under the ‘Miscellaneous’ label. Strips of fabric can be found on spear throwers, or enrich costumes with wooden masks, often called Apuema. Inside the storage facilities of the British Museum, I was able to examine an allegiance stick (Oc.1898.7-4.47), featuring three different fabrics in the narrowest part of the object (photos 18, 19 & 20). In this instance, it can be associated with war practices, as it was used as a mark of alliance in cases of rebellion and symbolised unity with the binding of various fibres. This allegiance stick was acquired from John Jennings in 1898; its description reports just “red and blue European textile”, whereas the materials are catalogued as cotton with a question mark in the museum archives.3 When compiling the inventory, the type of fabric could not be added with certainty, due to the open questions on textile identification presented earlier. Non-Destructive Testing and visual analysis may increase our knowledge of textile recognition in anthropology collections and even update museum archives.

27Figure 1, derived from Table 1, shows that 2 % of the total number of Kanak objects held by these museums feature European textiles. The totals in Table 3 can be subdivided into fabric characteristics, according to peculiarities and recurrences in colours and/or patterns. Table 4 offers an estimate of the distribution of these objects into four categories:

  • Polka dots (P) – Lightweight fabrics with a cream-coloured polka-dot pattern on a navy or lighter-blue background (photo 1). Roger Boulay associates this type of fabric with similar ones traded in the early 1800s (2015: 56). It is observable on some other axes on display at the Museo delle Civiltà in Rome and the Weltmuseum in Wien; and during my research visits, I observed four similar examples (photos 7 & 12; photomicrograph 1).

Photomicrograph 1. – Plain weaves of the polka-dot cotton fabric on the handle of 1898.76.1, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

Photomicrograph 1. – Plain weaves of the polka-dot cotton fabric on the handle of 1898.76.1, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

  • Blue (B) – Heavier material, rough to the touch. The colour is often very dark, almost black. In some cases, it is a brighter shade, but variations due to external agents must be taken into account. This group is commonly associated with military uniforms. In addition to the axe of Chief Ataï exhibited in Toulouse (photo 4), the permanent collections of the Museo di Storia Naturale in Florence and at the Tropenmuseum, Amsterdam, also show some of them. At the Pitt Rivers Museum and the British Museum, I was able to examine ten objects with this fabric on their handles (photo 12; photomicrograph 2).

Photomicrograph 2. – Woven wool fabric on 1903.54.1, the hole shows the tapa underneet, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

Photomicrograph 2. – Woven wool fabric on 1903.54.1, the hole shows the tapa underneet, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

  • Red (R) – Fabrics have various weights, but are mainly in a scarlet red shade observable in 22 objects. An example is the club displayed at the Carnets Kanak exhibition (photo 3), along with eight others (photos 16, 17 & 20; photomicrograph 4).

Photomicrograph 4. – Weaves of the red fabric on the handle of Oc1913,11.15,205, British Museum, London

Photomicrograph 4. – Weaves of the red fabric on the handle of Oc1913,11.15,205, British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

  • Others (O) – The textiles of this category can present:

28– Various undyed patterns on a blue background, which were imported from France as well as England in the 1800s (Boulay, 2015: 56). However, a greater repetition of P was already evident in the study sample, appearing on 45 of 200 objects; whereas the other undyed designs appear on 22 items and tend to be unique and not repeated. Instances of two items with similar patterns include a Kanak axe on display at the Museo Anima Mundi, Vatican City and another axe kept at the muséum de Toulouse (photos 5 & 6); in the latter museum, the fabric design on ETH.AC_NC_39 also resembles that found on a club, P2302,4 housed in the Penn Museum depot. Another similarity should be noted between a monnaie conserved in Nouméa and an axe in Geneva, respectively MNC.86.5.218,5 and ETHOC.011841.6 The motif of this pattern consists of two dashes, one of which is thicker and inclined as if to form a stylised dragonfly from the side. My case studies includes three fabrics with a blue background and particular motifs in a cream colour (photos 9 & 13; photomicrographs 3 & 6).

Photomicrograph 3. – Plain weaves of the cotton fabric on the handle of 1906.20.66, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

Photomicrograph 3. – Plain weaves of the cotton fabric on the handle of 1906.20.66, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

Photo 5. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. ETH.AC_NC_163), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse

Photo 5. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. ETH.AC_NC_163), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse

(courtesy of Sylviane Bonvin Poshstein, ©muséum de Toulouse)

Photo 6. – Ceremonial axe, Museo Anima Mundi, Vatican City

Photo 6. – Ceremonial axe, Museo Anima Mundi, Vatican City

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

  • Other colours. This category includes fabrics of various materials and solid colours, such as grey or brown (photos 1 & 12).

  • Other patterns and colours. An example of this group is the red designs on a beige background shown on a fabric knotted to a club conserved in the Museum der Kulturen depot in Basel, which also presents a knitted blue textile on the base (photo 7). In addition to photo 1, another axe that piqued my interest is at the mqb-jc. It has a reddish-brown fabric with green floral motives on the base.7 In the British Museum, I observed a unique fabric that falls into the latter category. Oc1929.3-4.1 is an axe finished at the base with a small piece of knitted fabric that appears in purple and burgundy stripes of various sizes.

Photo 7. – Club (Inv. N. Vb2033), Museum der Kulturen, Basel

Photo 7. – Club (Inv. N. Vb2033), Museum der Kulturen, Basel

(©Museum der Kulturen, Basel, work photo, February 2023)

29The creation and continuous updating of an archive dedicated to the different colours of the most common fabrics, as illustrated in Table 4, is a unique and pivotal component of this project. This archive’s distinctiveness lies in its comprehensive cataloguing of fabric colours and patterns, which offers new dimensions for examining objects, drawing comparisons, and understanding the nuances in material acquisition and the overall assembly process. Each fabric and pattern represent specific socio-economic exchanges, indigenisation and resistance. The presence of certain fabrics in Kanaky, like the blue ones with polka dot pattern or the blue military-associated textiles, offers a window into the trade and cultural exchanges of the past. By extending this archive with further data, it will be possible to gain deeper insights into the development of materials, craftsmanship, and design. This enriched archive can enhance narratives for museum visitors and provide a deeper understanding of social structures, trade relations, and the symbolic significances of these fabrics. The recurrence of certain patterns or colours in various parts of the world, or their association with specific events or periods, attests to the complex web of human interactions throughout history.

Case Study 1: The Pitt Rivers Museum

30The Kanak collection of the Pitt Rivers Museum does not have a long history of studies, bearing in mind that, during the Inventory work of the Kanak heritage, the only English museums I visited were the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in Cambridge, and the British Museum. The Pitt Rivers Musem collection includes objects from early European contacts in the Pacific, such as those from Cook’s voyages. The Forsters are indeed connected to 13 of them from Kanaky and preserved at Pitt Rivers Museum (Adams, 2018: 93). Johann Reinhold Forster and his son Georg Forster accompanied Cook on his second voyage to the Pacific as naturalists. Moreover, the Museum also holds some of the the 176 Kanak objects donated to UK museums by Emma and James Hadfield, as well as the British Museum (Adams, 2018: 93). The couple from the London Missionary Society spent about 45 years in the Loyalty Islands from 1878. From their first returns to England in the 1910s, they began selling and donating Kanak objects to national museums and private galleries.

31European fabrics appear on seven of the 294 Kanak search results in viewing the Pitt Rivers Museum online catalogue (photo 8).

Photo 8. – Six of the seven Kanak objects with European fabrics, Pitt Rivers Museum

Photo 8. – Six of the seven Kanak objects with European fabrics, Pitt Rivers Museum

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford, January 2023)

32Dating back to 1898, item 1898.76.1 is the oldest among this group (photos 9, 10 & 11). It was purchased from John Jennings, who also sold item Oc1898,07.04,47 to the British Museum. The 200 objects collected in Oceania by Jennings were also presented at a meeting of the Anthropological Institute in 1898 (Jennings, 1899: 165).

Photo 9. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. 1898.76.1), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

Photo 9. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. 1898.76.1), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

Photo 10. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail

Photo 10. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

Photo 11. – Ceremonial axe, base detail

Photo 11. – Ceremonial axe, base detail

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

33The last Kanak weapon to enter the Pitt Rivers collections among the 7 examined was 1934.66.5, purchased at Stevens’ Auction Rooms LTD, Covent Garden, in March 1934.

34Two clubs, 1906.20.65 and 1906.20.66 (photos 13 & 14, p. 258), became part of the Pitt Rivers collection in 1906, from merchant Stephen William Silver.

35Gustave Glaumont sold item 1903.54.1 via Enrico Hillyer Giglioli at the end of the 19th century (photo 12). Glaumont worked for six years in the prison administration whilst producing extensive archaeology and ethnography on the Grande Terre. Giglioli’s interest in anthropology was passed on to him by his father and he began to collect ethnographic objects in his twenties. When he became Museum Director and Professor of Zoology in Florence, his international social network greatly enhanced his trading.

Photo 12. – Ceremonial axe, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford (Inv. N. 1903.54.1)

Photo 12. – Ceremonial axe, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford (Inv. N. 1903.54.1)

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

36The curator of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in Cambridge, Louis Clarke, donated the hafted axe 1919.1.9 to the Pitt Rivers Museum in 1919. Purchased from dealer C.A. Woollett in September 1899, this club was not available on the day of my research visit.

37Another Kanak club (1899.71.3) with a blue European textile on the base was purchased in 1899 by the museum from Woollet; however, this object was not available during my research visit.

38The three axes feature very different fabrics on their handles and bases. One is made up of what I believe to be two different polka-dot cotton cloths, due to this slight difference in the dimensions and distances of the patterns, measured at the point where the fabric is least deformed by the creases (photos 9, 10 & 11). During the Industrial Revolution, the machines for printing patterns on fabrics made it possible to create evenly spaced dots, observable from photomicrograph one. By contrast, the axe in photo 12 has a blue fabric bonded to the base, heavier in weight and rougher to the touch. Some holes led me to conclude that this piece of textile is small, having completed only one turn around the circumference of the handle. The same holes also show the presence of a tapa cloth underneath the European one, which increases the thickness of the ensemble (photomicrograph 2). Item 1919.1.9 is an oval blade axe with a steel grey fabric double-rolled all over the handle and base, as notable through a few holes again. A small piece of light blue tapa cloth was inserted into the attachment of the blade. The thick navy-blue fabric recurs on two of the three clubs analysed (1906.20.65) and, whilst the red one is present on only one of these two objects (1934.66.5), where it appears like a long strip of material that has been folded/rolled over itself and then coiled around the handle. Of particular note is the thin strip of fabric rolled up several times in the centre of the handle of the club in photos 13 and 14. The fabric pattern is an undyed trifoliate flower on a blue background. Compared to the usual polka-dot fabric, this one is slightly lighter in colour, and the diameter of the single flower is wider.

Photo 13. –Club (Inv. N. 1906.20.66), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

Photo 13. –Club (Inv. N. 1906.20.66), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

Photo 14. – Stripe of woven fabric on the club, handle detail

Photo 14. – Stripe of woven fabric on the club, handle detail

(cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)

Case Study 2: The British Museum

39In 2005, a study dedicated to the Melanesian collections began in the UK, supported by the Arts and Humanities Research Council and led by Lissant Bolton and Nicholas Thomas (Bolton et al., 2013). During the five years of the Melanesia Project, Julie Adams examined the Kanak collection at the British Museum, along with archaeologist François Wadra and curator Julia-Jessica Wamytan. Subsequently, an exhibition of photos taken in the Loyalty Islands was inaugurated at the Bibliothèque Provinciale of Lifou, proposed by Wadra, who also continued to study the UK collections thanks to self-financed visits to the UK museums, including the Pitt Rivers Museum (Adams, 2011: 136). Another object from the Loyalty Islands studied at the British Museum is a fibre skirt, which has been described by Tate LeFevre in terms of historical use in the Loyalty Islands society and contemporary social meaning (2013). These collections contain many objects from this archipelago, reflecting the British impact on the religion and everyday life of these Islands. The first European to observe these islands was William Raven in 1793, which were later mapped by French explorer Jules Dumont d’Urville in 1827. Following this period, the islands attracted the attention of missionaries from the London Missionary Society, including the Hadfields, already mentioned in the first case study. Then, in 1864, the French government, eager to extend its possessions in the region, demanded the expulsion of British missions from the Loyalty Islands, with subsequent ban on teaching in the vernacular language in missionary schools.

40As for the 22 objects examined at the British Museum storage facilities, the online database does not provide precise origins for any of them. However, a ceremonial axe among them (Oc1929,03.04,2) is known to have come from another British expedition, on board the HMS Challenger (1872–1876). The scientific reports from this expedition by natural historian Charles Wyville Thomson and oceanographer John Murray, both integral members of the scientific team during that voyage, indicate that the voyage objectives were to learn more about the physical and biological state of the South Pacific Ocean basins, including New Caledonia (1885: 23). Furthermore, the renowned 1884 report by micropalaeontologist Henry Bowman Brady attests that the HMS Challenger had been engaged in the examination of marine biology in the southwest of the archipelago since 1873. It is therefore possible to imagine that the object was obtained there, or exchanged at stopovers. This axe has a visible coconut base, and is filled with a grey-blue cloth. Four of the objects considered here come from the collections of Louis-Joseph Bouge, a colonial administrator in Kanaky from 1912 and Minister of Colonies from 1937. In addition to being a politician, Bouge was also very interested in the languages and cultures of Oceania. He produced writings and grammar, founded the Société d’Études Océaniennes and was the vice-president of the Société des Océanistes. Today, most of Bouge’s collection of material heritage from Oceania is kept at the musée des Beaux-Arts in Chartres, acquired through Emma Bouge in the 1970s, but 180 of his Kanak and Vanuatu objects were donated to the British Museum in 1913. Of the four weapons I analysed, three are covered with red European cotton. One axe in particular appears to have its handle and base tightly wrapped by a large scarlet red fabric (photos 16 & 17). This ends with two long pieces of that knotted fabric dangling from the upper part of the base. This fabric is also present in the holes of the blade and intertwined between the ropes that bind the axe together. The deduction that the object was wrapped in the cloth whilst it was being created excludes the possibility that this fabric is part of a later addition, whether Kanak or European. Conversely, the flying fox hair cord was visibly applied later, as already observed during the Melanesia Arts Project.8 Another of these three objects is a club with dry branches attached to the handle by a strip of red European fabric 2 centimeter in height (Oc1913,11.15,206). The presence of dried vegetation on Kanak objects was investigated by Coiffier (2013: 136), who also indicated a possible replacement of endemic vegetation with European fabrics in the construction of Kanak objects, especially in the areas with more foreign contact.

Photo 16. – Overview of the ceremonial axe (Inv. N. Oc1913,11.15,205), British Museum, London

Photo 16. – Overview of the ceremonial axe (Inv. N. Oc1913,11.15,205), British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 17. – Ceremonial axe’s base

Photo 17. – Ceremonial axe’s base

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

41During my research visit, I had the opportunity to view 15 objects at the British Museum (photo 15), detected in part from archival research and part with the help of the museum curators. The polka-dot fabric is one of the most prominent features wrapped on a part of the allegiance stick (Oc1898,07.04,47) and positioned above a second layer of red cotton (photos 18, 19 & 20). A third uncommon textile is notable under the vegetable weavings; this appears to be a bluish-grey dyed yarn fabric, meaning the yarn was dyed before it was woven (photomicrograph 5). Six pieces of heavy navy fabric cover four of the objects examined, mainly rolled on the centre or the handle of the clubs (photomicrograph 2). One of these clubs, Oc1932,07.08,9, was donated in 1932 by missionary Peter Rattary, whose collection lies mostly in the Dundee Museum. Textiles that fall within the “Other” category of my Table 4 appear on four objects; half are wrapped in blue fabrics with undyed patterns traded by the United Kingdom and France (Boulay, 2015: 56). The most striking specimen appears under an intertwining of cords on the handle of an axe (photos 21 & 22). The pattern represents a flowery lawn composed of groups of petals and dots that depict the grass (photomicrograph 6).

Photomicrograph 5. – Weaves of the dyed yarn fabric of Oc1898.07,04.47, British Museum, London

Photomicrograph 5. – Weaves of the dyed yarn fabric of Oc1898.07,04.47, British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photomicrograph 6. – Plain weave on the blue fabric with an undyed pattern on the handle of Oc1920.16, British Museum, London

Photomicrograph 6. – Plain weave on the blue fabric with an undyed pattern on the handle of Oc1920.16, British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 21. – Ceremonial axe (N. Inv. Oc1920.16), British Museum, London

Photo 21. – Ceremonial axe (N. Inv. Oc1920.16), British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 22. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail

Photo 22. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 15. – Part of the examined objects in January 2023, British Museum, London

Photo 15. – Part of the examined objects in January 2023, British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 18. – Allegiance stick (N. Inv. Oc1898.07,04.47), British Museum, London

Photo 18. – Allegiance stick (N. Inv. Oc1898.07,04.47), British Museum, London

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 19. – Detail of the upper part of the base

Photo 19. – Detail of the upper part of the base

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Photo 20. –Detail of the other side of the base

Photo 20. –Detail of the other side of the base

(cliché Carolina Gallarini)

Conclusions

42This work has provided the analysis of 210 Kanak objects either made of or wrapped in European fabrics, scattered in 28 museums all over the world. The essence of this effort lies in its methodological foundation, which involves a multi-faceted approach blending archival research, literature review, microscopy, direct museum interactions, and ethnography. As a methodological essay, this study focuses on the process of assembling an inventory through online databases and curator communications, who contributed with archive cards not available online and high-resolution photographs. The third phase of the project consisted of research visits to three museums, and evaluating several textiles present on Kanak objects. In particular, I was able to study 22 objects preserved in the storages of the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford and the British Museum in London. Employing advanced tools like digital microscopes, the project not only expands our understanding of these textiles but also paves the way for Non-Destructive Testing methodologies that can benefit broader anthropological collections.

43After evaluating the lack of a precise bibliography on these types of fabrics applied to Kanak objects, the study process turned to diverse scholarly avenues, spanning from the history of French and British uniforms to textile identification, administrative reports and studies on Melanesian warfare. The work’s objectives are the acquisition of knowledge on the entangled materials that show historical connections between Europeans and Kanaks. The textiles’ origin and manufacture are clarified by their weaves, producible only with the textile machinery developed during the Industrial Revolution. The project also seeks to explain the acquisition of these international fabrics by Kanak individuals and groups. The trade of European cotton appears to be the most plausible and popular explanation in the sources. However, it is interesting to note that the demand for cotton was limited to a one-year boom and to certain areas in Kanaky. The on-site manufacture of materials is not to be excluded, although settlements of the cotton industry developed especially in the first post-war period, thus postdating most of the objects examined in this study. The last hypothesis on the acquisition of these fabrics by Kanaks is linked to military presence or warfare. Some records report the donations of military coats to Kanak chiefs. The large number of objects related to uniforms and their variety of materials may suggest that pieces of European fabrics could have been found during or after battles. Whether acquired through trade, local creation, or as a result of conflicts, these textiles act as tangible connections that help us understand historical situations, battles, and ceremonies. Throughout the museums I explored, only 2 % of the Kanak collections feature European fabrics. Thus, it may be concluded that this addition of European textiles is linked to the social prestige and power of the object’s owner. The historical exchange of European fabrics used to decorate a cultural object informs us on social relations, the value of the individual object, and the history of the Kanak economy.

44Another focal point of research aimed at textile identification leading to the experimentation of alternative research methods suitable for anthropological collections. More precise evaluation of fabrics in other collections would generate further sources on their creation, and is encouraged by the preservation and restoration of historical fabrics. Moreover, the same tests led to a closer analysis of other materials that compose Kanak objects. In some cases, the presence of tapa cloth was revealed, whilst, in others, photomicrographs improved the analysis of the cords that anchor the fabrics on the handles and bases. The materials used to intertwine are plant fibres, flying fox hair or European yarns. Analysis of the positioning of these thin cords helps to assess when the application of such textiles occurred. In some instances, the cord is knotted over all other materials, suggesting that it was applied some time after the original creation of the object, perhaps even in Europe. In other cases, the European fabric winds through the main components, such as the blade or handle, suggesting that it was added at the time of creation.

45To conclude, this research and its results also highlight the complexity and depth of the subject matter, indicating that further studies will be essential to fully unravel the historical narratives entangled within these objects. This methodological pursuit paves the way for future examination of the materials, inviting further investigation in diverse institutions to enrich the biographies of Kanak objects and their histories. In addition, recognizing the potency of contemporary social memory, the inclusion of fieldwork research, including photo-elicitation methodologies, is crucial to comprehend the impact of these materials within Kanak communities. As this article reveals, the study of European textiles in Kanak objects transcends an individual scholarly endeavour, heralding a broader understanding of cross-cultural dynamics and historical resonances.

Acknowledgements

46I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to the esteemed museum curators, whose invaluable assistance and support have significantly enriched this research project. In particular, I am profoundly grateful to Nicholas Crowe (Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford), Julie Adams, and Jill Hasell (British Museum, London), who granted me access to the museum storages and paved the way for this study. Furthermore, I wish to express my sincere appreciation to the museum curators who generously shared photographs of the Kanak collections, including Sylviane Bonvin Pochstein (muséum de Toulouse), Beatrice Voirol (Museum der Kulturen, Basel), Emilie Salaberry (musée d’Angouleme), and Reinhard Blumauer (Weltmuseum, Wien).

47My deep appreciation extends to my PhD supervisors, Daniel Rycroft and Aristoteles Barcelos Neto (University of East Anglia, Norwich), for their guidance and support throughout this academic journey. My sincere thanks to Anna Paini for her expert advice and continuous support during my research and writing process. Additionally, I am deeply thankful to Emmanuel Kasarhérou (mqb-jc, Paris) and Marianne Tissandier (Musée de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, Nouméa) for generously sharing invaluable their insights and advice, as well as facilitating access to the Inventaire du Patrimoine Kanak Dispersé, which has profoundly enhanced the course of this study.

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Table des illustrations

Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-1.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 64k
Titre Photo 2. – ceremonial axe, Museo delle Civiltà, Rome
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-2.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 52k
Titre Photo 3. – Club (Inv. N. 71.1893.21.2), mqb-jc, Paris
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-3.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 69k
Titre Photo 4. – The axe of Chief Ataï (Inv. N. MHNT ETH.AC NC 170), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse
Crédits (courtesy of Sylviane Bonvin Pochstein, ©muséum de Toulouse)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-4.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 95k
Titre Photomicrograph 1. – Plain weaves of the polka-dot cotton fabric on the handle of 1898.76.1, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-5.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 89k
Titre Photomicrograph 2. – Woven wool fabric on 1903.54.1, the hole shows the tapa underneet, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-6.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 89k
Titre Photomicrograph 4. – Weaves of the red fabric on the handle of Oc1913,11.15,205, British Museum, London
Légende (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-7.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 83k
Titre Photomicrograph 3. – Plain weaves of the cotton fabric on the handle of 1906.20.66, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-8.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 88k
Titre Photo 5. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. ETH.AC_NC_163), muséum de Toulouse, Toulouse
Crédits (courtesy of Sylviane Bonvin Poshstein, ©muséum de Toulouse)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-9.jpg
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Titre Photo 6. – Ceremonial axe, Museo Anima Mundi, Vatican City
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-10.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 65k
Titre Photo 7. – Club (Inv. N. Vb2033), Museum der Kulturen, Basel
Crédits (©Museum der Kulturen, Basel, work photo, February 2023)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-11.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 73k
Titre Photo 8. – Six of the seven Kanak objects with European fabrics, Pitt Rivers Museum
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford, January 2023)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-12.jpg
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Titre Photo 9. – Ceremonial axe (Inv. N. 1898.76.1), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-13.jpg
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Titre Photo 10. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-14.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 386k
Titre Photo 11. – Ceremonial axe, base detail
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-15.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 863k
Titre Photo 12. – Ceremonial axe, Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford (Inv. N. 1903.54.1)
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-16.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 53k
Titre Photo 13. –Club (Inv. N. 1906.20.66), Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-17.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 565k
Titre Photo 14. – Stripe of woven fabric on the club, handle detail
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini, ©prm, University of Oxford)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-18.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 63k
Titre Photo 16. – Overview of the ceremonial axe (Inv. N. Oc1913,11.15,205), British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-19.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 37k
Titre Photo 17. – Ceremonial axe’s base
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-20.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 45k
Titre Photomicrograph 5. – Weaves of the dyed yarn fabric of Oc1898.07,04.47, British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-21.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 72k
Titre Photomicrograph 6. – Plain weave on the blue fabric with an undyed pattern on the handle of Oc1920.16, British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-22.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 72k
Titre Photo 21. – Ceremonial axe (N. Inv. Oc1920.16), British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-23.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 31k
Titre Photo 22. – Ceremonial axe, handle detail
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-24.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 622k
Titre Photo 15. – Part of the examined objects in January 2023, British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-25.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 33k
Titre Photo 18. – Allegiance stick (N. Inv. Oc1898.07,04.47), British Museum, London
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-26.jpg
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Titre Photo 19. – Detail of the upper part of the base
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-27.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 70k
Titre Photo 20. –Detail of the other side of the base
Crédits (cliché Carolina Gallarini)
URL http://journals.openedition.org/jso/docannexe/image/15687/img-28.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 59k
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Carolina Gallarini, « Entangled Textiles: A Project on European Fabrics on Kanak Objects »Journal de la Société des Océanistes, 157 | 2023, 241-266.

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Carolina Gallarini, « Entangled Textiles: A Project on European Fabrics on Kanak Objects »Journal de la Société des Océanistes [En ligne], 157 | 2023, mis en ligne le 01 février 2024, consulté le 20 juin 2025. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/jso/15687 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/jso.15687

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Auteur

Carolina Gallarini

PhD candidate, University of East Anglia, Norwich ; c.gallarini@uea.ac.uk

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