I’m Raph. These are some African masks from various ethnic groups that I’ve grown to be quite fond of, for one reason or another. I wanted to show them to you mostly because they’ve been on my mind. Growing up, our house was full of them, and if I’m being honest, I thought they were terrifying. I really did. Lately, though, I’ve felt this need to get a little closer to my roots. This whole project is just a small tribute to that feeling.
I should probably give an actual reason for doing this, other than the lazy but very true one, which is that I think it looks good. The thing is, the older I get, the more everything starts to separate into these sharp little piles in my head. Stuff that used to mildly bug me now really gets under my skin. Stuff I once sort of liked does the same thing, which feels unfair, but there it is.
What really sticks with me, though, is how much simply never showed up. Pre-colonial Africa, for instance, might as well have been a rumor. It wasn’t in the books that were easy to find. It wasn’t on TV. And I can’t pretend I was some heroic kid actively searching for it either. I didn’t know to look. So when I finally did, it felt less like learning something new and more like realizing something had been quietly missing the whole time. Luckily, some people went digging before I ever thought to, and left a trail behind. Otherwise I’m not sure I would have known where to start.
This is probably the part where I’m supposed to explain why this page exists at all. It started on one of those rainy days that make everything look a little more dramatic than it deserves to be. I was at home when I noticed this trippy-looking mask sitting out on the balcony, doing a very convincing impression of something that was about to rot quietly and be forgotten. So I rushed out and rescued it, because letting a wooden thing die slowly in the rain felt wrong in a way I can’t fully justify.
Later, being a 3D enthusiast and all, I opened Blender and immediately faced the important question of what to name the file. It was either african_mask or save_wooden_beauty_from_balcony, which tells you roughly where my head was at. After that, I did what anyone with too much time and an internet connection does. I spent a few hours browsing through various self-proclaimed art galleries and some deeply questionable merchant websites. And the one thing they all seemed to have in common was that they were selling these things. Re-selling them, really. That part stuck with me, and it irritated me more than I expected.
What feels off about it isn’t simply that they’re being sold. Lots of things are sold, and that part alone isn’t the problem. It’s the way it happens. Ownership changes hands without any ceremony at all, like that part never mattered. Profit shows up dressed as appreciation, which makes it harder to call out. And somewhere in the process, the context just slips away.
It feels worse when you realize that many of these pieces aren’t decorative objects to begin with. They belong to someone’s religion, someone’s way of making sense of the world. But online they’re flattened into product descriptions, advertised as a way to bring a little “exoticism” into your living room, as if that was ever the point.