The craft of mask making was established in the 15th or 16th C, when the monks of the satras on Majuli felt the need to connect to the masses. They did this through theatrical performances, whereby masks were worn to represent mythical characters. The tradition has been kept alive, and today there are four satras who make masks, from life size heads that fit on a man’s head to larger animal creatures that are moved by wires. The most famous one is the Samaguri Satra, where the chief mask maker, a monk, resides with his family, many of whom are also involved in the production process.
Making the masks is surprisingly environmentally friendly. A bamboo frame is covered with cloth and pottery clay and then the shape is created by the application of cow dung. The mask is then finished with jute fibre and paper, and painted with natural colours, without any chemicals.
The chief mask maker is a remarkably creative artist. He does not only make masks – and invented a process whereby mask parts moved, like an opening mouth -, but also draws, makes bamboo sculptures and bamboo weaving designs, stucco reliefs and metalwork. He proudly tells us that he even designed and made several masks for the British museum. And his collection is indeed impressive, very colourful, of course, but also very expressive.
As avid mask collectors we do investigate potential purchases. A small piece in the chief’s collection attracts our attention, but he doesn’t want to sell it. In the neighbouring mask centre, run by his nephew, there is a really nice piece, of a pig, but once again, the nephew doesn’t want to sell, as it was made by his father thirty years ago. And to settle for a concrete mask – the first time I have seen concrete been used in mask making! -, hmm, perhaps not. So we leave empty handed, but with a great impression of ancient art.