Today, I read a fascinating long-form piece in White Fungus: Modern Marco Polos — The Global Travels of Nicolaï Michoutouchkine and Aloï Pilioko.
Anecdote Alert
In early 2020, before returning to Toronto and the Covid lockdown, I visited the home of the artists, which was called Esnaar and was in the South Pacific on Efate island. The house was in severe disrepair due to the advanced age of its caretaker, Pilioko (Michoutouchkine passed in 2010).
For decades, the two men were lovers and travelers. They shared their own and collected Oceanic Art in galleries and "pop-ups" in over 40 countries. The scrapbooks and journals of their adventures, highlighted in the article, look like fascinating pieces. I wish I had known of them before my visit to inquire about seeing them.
Near the property entrance, visitors had left their details scrawled on pieces of wood instead of a traditional guestbook. It was a striking first impression that didn't prepare me for what lay beyond the front gate.
The property was covered in art. The walls, doors, grounds, rooftops... Pilioko seemed to recently become fascinated with one particular shade of yellow, and many items I saw that day were that color.
I was taken with one painting in particular — of female Ni-Vans water drumming. If you're not familiar with the artform, see it demonstrated here:
I regret not buying the piece, though it would have stood out in my place, where most paintings are abstract.
A few days after meeting Pilioki, I was having dinner at a friend's place on Mele Bay. My host, Kieran, has an original Michoutouchkine on his wall, and I mentioned my visit to Esnaar. His brother fetched a book on Oceanic Art, which had a chapter on the two artists, emphasizing their significance and foundational role in South Pacific art. Kieran and Brandon, New Zealanders by birth, have had a home in Vanuatu for years and decorated it beautifully with local art.
When I arrived at his home, I found him napping. But he quickly rose to welcome me and my companions and let us explore the property, happily answering our questions. He seemed energized by our presence. No cause of death is listed in his obituary, and I wonder if Covid was involved or if the pandemic-induced loneliness (no travel to the island for over a year) affected the artist.
After reading the White Fungus piece, I searched and found that Pilioko died in October 2020.
It's been over four years since his death, and I'm curious about the museum's fate. Was there a foundation or trust to keep it open, or has it fallen to developers eager to build on the south lagoon shore?
Most people I met in Vanuatu have left, but Kieran still has a home there. I make a mental note to check if he knows what happened to the fascinating live-in gallery, Esnaar.
