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  <title>A View from  the Water’s Edge: A new NMAI exhibition spotlights the woodland-inspired art of Truman Lowe </title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Truman-Lowe</link>
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      &lt;span&gt;A View from  the Water’s Edge: A new NMAI exhibition spotlights the woodland-inspired art of Truman Lowe &lt;/span&gt;

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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Rebecca Head Trautmann&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe spent many hours as a child during the late 1940s and 1950s along the banks of the Black River and streams near the Hoocąk [Ho-Chunk] community outside Black River Falls in central Wisconsin. There, he gathered berries with his family, fished and swam. The river’s movement, reflections and smooth stones beneath its surface fascinated him. When he was older, Lowe enjoyed canoeing Wisconsin’s rivers with his family.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div id="slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/TLOWE_3_sc_GAL.jpg?itok=SAl04m_J" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"447","rel":"slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE_3_sc_GAL.jpg?itok=sH6vgYyu" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE_3_sc_GAL.jpg?itok=sH6vgYyu" alt="An abstract pastel of blues, greens, yellows, and oranges depicting reflections on the surface of water" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="283" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe’s drawing portrays the gentle ripples and colorful reflections on the surface of a stream.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Untitled, 1996; brushed powdered pigment and pastel on paper; 30.25" x 79.5". 27/611&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe’s drawing portrays the gentle ripples and colorful reflections on the surface of a stream.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Untitled, 1996; brushed powdered pigment and pastel on paper; 30.25" x 79.5". 27/611&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/TLOWE-67_bw-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=-5LXzC6Z" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"933","rel":"slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-67_bw-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=UqPjKRZA" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-67_bw-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=UqPjKRZA" alt="An aerial view of Truman Lowe working on a wood sculpture " src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="643" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lowe working on his sculpture “Red Banks” (named after the Hoocąk place of origin) at the University of Wisconsin–Green Bay in 1991.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;© William J. Lizdas/USA TODAY NETWORK&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lowe working on his sculpture “Red Banks” (named after the Hoocąk place of origin) at the University of Wisconsin–Green Bay in 1991.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;© William J. Lizdas/USA TODAY NETWORK&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/TLOWE-61-GAL.jpg?itok=PkJ95xKJ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1125","height":"1109","rel":"slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-61-GAL.jpg?itok=tvmhA801" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-61-GAL.jpg?itok=tvmhA801" alt="Lowe's parents sit and work on wooden baskets." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="507" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lowe’s parents worked together to create finely crafted black ash baskets. In this 1967 image, Mabel Davis Lowe &lt;em&gt;(left&lt;/em&gt;) weaves a basket while Martin Lowe prepares a wood handle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wisconsin Historical Society, Image 129477&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lowe’s parents worked together to create finely crafted black ash baskets. In this 1967 image, Mabel Davis Lowe &lt;em&gt;(left&lt;/em&gt;) weaves a basket while Martin Lowe prepares a wood handle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wisconsin Historical Society, Image 129477&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/TLOWE-81_1-GAL.jpg?itok=D1oXT5l4" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"712","rel":"slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-81_1-GAL.jpg?itok=U8F00QAc" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-81_1-GAL.jpg?itok=U8F00QAc" alt="A large aluminum sculpture of a bird in flight" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="451" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2023, the University of Wisconsin–Madison installed Lowe’s sculpture “Effigy: Bird Form” on its grounds. The sculpture recalls the ancestral effigy mounds on and around the campus. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Effigy: Bird Form,” 1997; aluminum; 12 feet x 20 feet; University of Wisconsin–Madison.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2023, the University of Wisconsin–Madison installed Lowe’s sculpture “Effigy: Bird Form” on its grounds. The sculpture recalls the ancestral effigy mounds on and around the campus. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Effigy: Bird Form,” 1997; aluminum; 12 feet x 20 feet; University of Wisconsin–Madison.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/TLOWE-78-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=dzJeyrog" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"775","rel":"slick-node-1183-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-78-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=cqHRgKNo" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/TLOWE-78-%281%29-GAL.jpg?itok=cqHRgKNo" alt="Lowe talks in front of his work." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="491" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe with his sculpture “Wah-Du-Sheh (Bundle)” in the 2010 NMAI exhibition “Vantage Point: The Contemporary Native Art Collection.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Wah-Du-Sheh (Bundle),” 1996; peeled willow saplings, paper, wax and leather; 2 feet x 18 feet x 3 feet. 26/7724&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe with his sculpture “Wah-Du-Sheh (Bundle)” in the 2010 NMAI exhibition “Vantage Point: The Contemporary Native Art Collection.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Wah-Du-Sheh (Bundle),” 1996; peeled willow saplings, paper, wax and leather; 2 feet x 18 feet x 3 feet. 26/7724&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;He drew on these experiences to create artworks exploring the waterways and environment of his woodland home. His minimalist sculptures made of wood, feathers and stones frequently portray dramatic cascading waterfalls, fast-moving rivers, quiet slivers of streams and marshes, and the plant life along their banks. His luminous pastel and charcoal drawings often meditate on water’s surface ripples, reflections and changing colors.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Since his passing in 2019, Lowe’s artwork has come to greater attention and has been collected and exhibited by prominent museums. The National Museum of the American Indian is highlighting his creativity and vision in “Water’s Edge: The Art of Truman Lowe,” a new exhibition at the museum’s location in Washington, D.C., and its accompanying catalog of the same name. The exhibition features nearly 50 of Lowe’s sculptures and drawings, including 28 of the 40 works by Lowe in the NMAI collection. Walking among these sculptures and drawings that evoke bears, canoes and monumental waterfalls made of wood, one senses Lowe’s love for his woodland home and the calming presence for which he is remembered. The works reflect on the stories, cultural knowledge and creativity of his family and community. NMAI Director Cynthia Chavez Lamar (San Felipe Pueblo/Hopi/Tewa/Navajo) noted, “Within his sculptures and drawings he honored Hoocąk materials and traditions of his family and community, yet he also experimented—which made space for others to do so as well.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lowe spoke frequently about water and its significance, describing a river as a metaphor for life, time and experience. He said, “Moving water fascinates me more than lakes or ponds. It’s just the idea of where rivers come from and where they’re going. They really symbolize our lives in a real sense.” He recalled standing along a river’s banks, looking upstream to see where the river had come from and watching as it flowed past and out of sight. The stretch of the river that is visible to you, he said, is “sort of like your life.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Water from Wood &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lowe grew up surrounded by creativity. His father expertly crafted bentwood handles for the black ash plaited baskets his parents made, and his mother was known for her use of color in her baskets and ribbonwork appliqué. Lowe learned from his father where to gather different kinds of wood, how to select the best materials for different purposes, and how to split wood and prepare it for use. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As an adult, Lowe drew inspiration from all of these experiences for his artwork. He earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from the University of Wisconsin–La Crosse in 1969. While a master’s student at the University of Wisconsin–Madison in the early 1970s, he experimented with synthetic materials, including plastics and resins. But after completing his Master of Fine Arts degree, he decided to return to his roots. “I discovered what I wanted to do: use those natural forms and materials reflecting where I grew up,” he said. “My father’s use, respect and knowledge of wood became my own quest and primary direction.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Willow saplings became a favorite sculptural material for the artist, who said, “If I have a signature, it is the willows on the water’s edge.” He appreciated the plant’s pliability when he peeled away its bark just after harvesting it. He could bend the flexible stalks into desired shapes that would hold when the wood dried. He was attracted to both the lightness of the inner wood as well as the dark, winding trails left in it by burrowing insects. Like the black ash splints his parents used in their baskets, he also used flexible pine slats cut thin to form waterfalls.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When people marveled at his ability to conjure water’s fluidity from solid wood, Lowe replied that “the wood is water,” describing the way liquid streamed out of willow saplings when he peeled them. He recalled gathering ash trees along a river with his father, and the time his grandmother notched the bark of a birch tree to fill a cup with its sweet sap.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Giving Other Indigenous Artists Flight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In addition to creating his own artwork, Lowe also taught and inspired generations of other artists. Beginning in 1974, he joined the faculty of the University of Wisconsin–Madison, teaching sculpture and coordinating Native American Studies programs. When he retired in 2009, he was recognized as a professor emeritus. “Throughout the program, Lowe modeled a community-based practice where everyone helped each other,” recalled Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation (Okanagan and Arrow Lakes)  artist Joe Feddersen, who studied with Lowe. “Lowe’s commitment to the community fostered the careers of many artists, and the cycle continues through his former students in their generosity and mentorship of the next generation.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;From 2000 to 2008, Lowe served as the first curator of contemporary art at the NMAI. He organized influential exhibitions. These included “Native Modernism: The Art of George Morrison and Allan Houser,” the inaugural contemporary art exhibition in the NMAI’s location on the National Mall, and “Continuum: 12 Artists” at the museum’s location in New York, which highlighted the work of artists in the generation succeeding those pioneering artists. He also co-curated exhibitions of James Luna (Puyukitchum [Luiseño]) and Edgar Heap of Birds (Southern Tsitsistas/Suhtai [Cheyenne]) at the Venice Biennale in 2005 and 2007 as well as a major exhibition of paintings by Payómkawichum (Luiseño) and German artist Fritz Scholder. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During his time as a curator, Lowe acquired significant works by Indigenous contemporary artists, laying a foundation for what is now a vital part of the NMAI collection. As art historian Jo Ortel observed, he “helped introduce countless viewers to the broad expanse—the possibilities—of contemporary Native American creativity.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Recent years have seen dramatic changes in the way Indigenous contemporary art is regarded. The works of Lowe and other Indigenous artists are now collected and exhibited by mainstream art museums and galleries and displayed prominently alongside those of their non-Native peers. Lowe played an essential role in making this change possible. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Through his creative work as an artist, curator and educator, he made an enduring impact on American and Native North American art. Artist John Hitchcock (Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma/Comanche) reflected, “His innovation, strength and sustained resilience remain an inspiration to me and the new generation of Native artists he mentored.”  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2022 the University of Wisconsin–La Crosse dedicated its visual and performing arts facility as the Truman T. Lowe Center for the Arts in his honor. The following year, the University of Wisconsin–Madison installed his sculpture “Effigy: Bird Form” on its grounds, its outstretched wings calling attention to Hoocąk people’s long history and continuing presence in the place they call Teejop. Jennifer Mnookin, the university’s chancellor at the time, remarked, “Hundreds of people will pass by here each day, and they will see this sculpture that is both a powerful symbol and an invitation to learn more about the Indigenous history of this land.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Water’s Edge: The Art of Truman Lowe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nįįcec: Wakąjahųkga Woore Hanira &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe’s work has an understated power. Layers of meaning and memory reside within seemingly simple forms. The Wisconsin woodlands where Lowe’s Hoocąk (Ho-Chunk) ancestors lived for generations provided him with the inspiration, methods and materials for his elegant, minimalist sculptures. Using wood, feathers and stone or pastel on paper, Lowe evoked a river’s movement and energy, the ripples and reflections on its surface, the hidden life beneath and the relationship between water, the land and the Hoocąk knowledge embedded within.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Water’s Edge” honors nearly five decades of Truman Lowe’s innovative artistic career as well as the Hoocąk creative practices, stories and cultural knowledge that infuse his work. The following is a sample of the nearly 50 sculptures, paintings and drawings in the “Water’s Edge” exhibition now on view at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. The exhibition catalog is available through the museum’s bookstore online at AmericanIndian.si.edu/shop/publications.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Moving Water&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Raised along the Black River in Wisconsin, Truman Lowe developed a lifelong fascination with moving water—its forceful currents, its surface ripples and reflections, and its relationship to the land through which it flows. He conjured rushing rivers, cascading waterfalls and slow-moving streams from wood, metal, pastel and charcoal.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lowe had an uncanny ability to transform solid wood into liquid, drawing on memories of the way his parents wove thin, pliable strips of black ash wood into baskets. He spoke about the need to protect life-giving water and described a flowing river as a metaphor for life and the passage of time.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Wooden sculpture depicting cascading water" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="b12338fc-4753-485b-8a5e-27d8c0f3f4f3" height="461" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-34-GAL.jpg" width="328" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the last of Lowe’s waterfall sculptures, water tumbles gracefully over a rocky ledge. To depict the water’s movement, Lowe used narrow, arcing slats of wood.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Waterfall VIII,” 2011; pine, metal fasteners; 82" x 80" x 64". Denver Art Museum: Native Arts acquisition fund, 2011.430A-Ns.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by © Denver Art Museum&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Willow saplings depicting flowing water against a geometric grid." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="09b2c2be-15eb-488d-9b7d-a1c1b65e9d18" height="255" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-36-GAL.jpg" width="368" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In “Waterfall ‘99,” Lowe used peeled willow saplings to portray the flow of water against a geometric grid. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Waterfall ‘99,” 1999; pine, peeled willow saplings; 96" x 144" x 4". &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art 1999.6.4 A-C. Museum purchase from the Eiteljorg Fellowship for Native American Fine Art. Additional funding provided by Mike and Juanita Eagle, Roger and Mindy Eiteljorg, Stan and Sandy Hurt, Arnold and Carol Jolles, Jay Peacock, and Carolyn Kincannon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo courtesy of the Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art, Indianapolis&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Large wooden sculpture depicting river water rapids" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="f7b15b76-2e97-45f9-bf10-000b877e36d1" height="233" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/20251118_01a_kjf_ps_WatersEdge_0KF0005-GAL.jpg" width="371" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lowe created “Ottawa” for the landmark 1992 exhibition “Land, Spirit, Power” at the National Gallery of Canada after observing the powerful rapids and falls of the three rivers that converge there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Ottawa,” 1992; pine, peeled willow saplings; 5.75 feet × 8 feet × 30 feet. Truman T. Lowe Estate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Land Holds Memory &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The abundant woodlands where Truman Lowe grew up shaped his sense of place, home and identity. He felt deeply the ancestral connection between his people and homeland and their generational struggles to retain it. Only when he moved away to teach did he realize how much. Of that sense of displacement, he reflected, “I discovered I was really a Woodland Indian.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Along with the trees, rivers and falls, Lowe also explored the human relationship to place and the ways that Indigenous stories and memories are embedded in the landscape. Visual evidence of ancestral peoples, such as earthen mounds and rock art, feature in many of his works.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Two wooden cubic sculptures stand tall next to each other in a gallery." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="ee808282-642b-464c-aded-0d04cbd030e7" height="512" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-28_e-GAL.jpg" width="383" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Named for his daughter and son, these sculptures are part of Lowe’s “Totem” series. They express his family’s deep connection to their woodland home and the intimate knowledge of trees he learned from his father.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Totem for Kunu (First Son)” and “Totem for Henu (First Daughter),” 1985; pine and peeled willow saplings; 114" x 15" x 15" and 126.5" x 15" x 15". &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase made through the Luisita L. and Franz H. Denghausen Endowment, 2022.9.2, 2022.9.3. © 2021, Truman Lowe Estate&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Wooden piece with small blue etchings, depicting a water's stream and banks." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="6e4ef903-3258-4a88-9d81-aede705af417" height="289" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-5-GAL.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Stream II” depicts a quiet stretch of placid woodland stream and its banks. The smooth river rocks suggest those that were among Lowe’s first art materials as a child.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Stream II,” circa 1990–1991; pine, peeled willow sticks, watercolor, stones and pastel; 18" x 32.25" x 1".  27/608&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="The wooden base of a canoe hangs from the ceiling of a gallery" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="e7e0a8e0-7fe3-41db-a553-33df60be5f6b" height="304" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-37-GAL.jpg" width="441" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Wach-Nee (Canoe Form)” creates the impression of viewing a passing vessel from below, with swaying underwater grasses and sunlight filtering through the water’s rippling surface.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Wach-Nee (Canoe Form),” 1999; pine wood, twine, willow branches, leather and iron screws; 96" x 288" x 48". &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art 1999.6.1 AB, Museum purchase from the Eiteljorg Fellowship for Native American Fine Art&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Woodland Structures &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe was inspired by ancestral Hoocąk and neighboring Woodland peoples’ expertise with craft and construction. He admired the domed architecture of traditional dwellings or wigwams known as “ciiporok’e” and the elemental form of the canoe. He gained respect for and knowledge about wood and its properties from his parents, who used strips of black ash to make baskets. Lowe’s father, Martin, known for his expertly carved handles, shared his deep knowledge of different woods and their uses.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As an art student, Lowe experimented with synthetic materials, including plastics and resins. Soon after graduating, though, he intentionally moved away from these potentially toxic materials and toward those that surrounded him in his youth. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A pastel sketch of an orange dwelling" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="fe251fcf-6022-473e-a2d3-a69a4497e228" height="329" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-12-GAL.jpg" width="447" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lowe revisited the subject of traditional dwellings in sculptures and drawings throughout his career. To him, the “ciiporok’e” represented comfort and security. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Winter Structure,” 1997; pastel on paper; 30.25" x 42.25". 27/618&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A human and dog silhouette sit atop a curved piece of wood." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="0693dd39-e5da-4694-af5e-12b7231b472d" height="326" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-10-GAL.jpg" width="453" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lowe’s playful sense of humor is evident in this sculpture of a canoe’s silhouette made with a curved willow twig carrying a human and a canine passenger.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Chief Takes His Dog for a Ride,” 1989; pine, peeled willow sticks, leather, copper wire and brass nails; 11.75" x 16.5" x 3.375". 27/609&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Features rest delicately against the wooden scaffolding of a canoe" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="c5a1fb9b-1680-4567-8621-b60cc856ddc6" height="263" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/270607_000_c01_20241115_ps-GAL.jpg" width="447" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In “Feather Canoe,” delicate white feathers rest in an open frame of willow joined with copper wire, capturing the sensation of floating between earth and sky.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Feather Canoe,” circa 1993; peeled willow saplings, feathers and copper wire; 22" x 74" x 12". 27/607&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memory and Shared Knowledge &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Truman Lowe infused his work with Hoocąk and family knowledge, memories and creative practices. He was interested in family stories and cultural histories as well as the Hoocąk hoit’e (language), clan structure and cosmology. He often used Hoocąk words in naming his artworks. He made drawings that referenced his mother’s colorful ribbonwork designs, Bear Clan and Hoocąk name.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lowe enjoyed creating imagined artifacts and works inspired by cultural mnemonic devices—ways in which knowledge is given physical form and is encoded, remembered and communicated. Through his exploration of memory, Lowe considered the ways people protect the things they value and preserve them for future generations. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Willow twigs emerge from a cubic bronze frame." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="896d0939-eedb-4cbc-918f-3bae1c2202c2" height="464" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-48-GAL.jpg" width="309" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Lowe originally constructed “Mnemonic Canoe” with willow twigs and pine before casting it in bronze a year later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Mnemonic Canoe,” 1989; bronze and rawhide; 36" x 19.5" x 12.75". Chazen Museum of Art, University of Wisconsin–Madison, Frank R. Horlbeck Endowment Fund purchase, 2020.44.2a-bs. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Chazen Museum of Art, University of Wisconsin–Madison&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A pastel of a blue bear with a yellow and orange glow." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="bf067d76-3b1a-472a-953b-21717dc5b87c" height="328" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-19-GAL.jpg" width="409" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lowe’s mother’s Hoocąk name, Sauninga or “Shining One,” comes from a story told by elders of a bear that was seen walking on a ridge with the sun shining from behind so that it seemed to glow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Untitled (Sauninga),” n.d.; chalk pastel on paper; 11" x 14".  27/619&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Planks of wood adhered together form the outline of a bear skin rug." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="39b45d79-f4b5-4deb-861f-c161c1dc7b06" height="467" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/TLOWE-32_sc-GAL.jpg" width="414" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lowe’s playful “Hoounch” (or “bear”) sculptures draw inspiration from bearskin rugs, their construction suggesting they might be rolled or folded. They also recall the effigy mounds found throughout the Upper Mississippi River Basin.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Hoounch III,” 1995; pine, leather; 73" x 72.25" x 3.5". Museum of Wisconsin Art, gift of James and Judith DeStefano.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photograph by Andrea Waala, Museum of Wisconsin Art. © Truman T. Lowe Estate&lt;/h6&gt;

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Rebecca Head Trautmann
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Rebecca Head Trautmann, an assistant curator of contemporary art at the National Museum of the American Indian, curated the “Water’s Edge: The Art of Truman Lowe” exhibition and served as editor of its catalog of the same title.&lt;/p&gt;

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  <pubDate>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 16:00:20 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ColavecchioS</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1183 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Sharing Living Native Heritage: An exhibition that speaks  with the First Peoples of Alaska</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Alaska-Native-Hertiage-Exhibition</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;Arts and Cultures&lt;/div&gt;
      
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      &lt;span&gt;Sharing Living Native Heritage: An exhibition that speaks  with the First Peoples of Alaska&lt;/span&gt;

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Winter 2025/Spring 2026
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Vol. 26 No. 4
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by David Helvarg&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the base of the Chugach Mountains in south-central Alaska is the Anchorage Museum, a building with a cloud-reflecting façade of glass. Inside on its second floor, is the Arctic Studies Center. There along with murals, panels, soundscapes, touch screens and seven large video monitors is an impressive collection of more than 600 items that originated from Indigenous communities across the state. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/LOC-view-community-cases-videos-ChuckChoi-AM-2010-HiRes-GAL.jpg?itok=p3lG-wfr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"783","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/LOC-view-community-cases-videos-ChuckChoi-AM-2010-HiRes-GAL.jpg?itok=Outbc4Yl" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/LOC-view-community-cases-videos-ChuckChoi-AM-2010-HiRes-GAL.jpg?itok=Outbc4Yl" alt="Alaska Native heritage items on exhibition at the Arctic Studies Center in Anchorage, Alaska" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="496" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The “Living Our Cultures, Sharing Our Heritage” exhibition at the Smithsonian Arctic Studies Center features a wide range of items from Native communities across Alaska.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Chuck Choi, Courtesy of the Anchorage Museum&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The “Living Our Cultures, Sharing Our Heritage” exhibition at the Smithsonian Arctic Studies Center features a wide range of items from Native communities across Alaska.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Chuck Choi, Courtesy of the Anchorage Museum&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/2008-6624-GAL.jpg?itok=EinUWrp9" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1083,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/2008-6624-GAL.jpg?itok=6lGhEQM0" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/2008-6624-GAL.jpg?itok=6lGhEQM0" alt="Red and black wooden mask" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="416" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tsimshian masks such as this were often worn during dance ceremonies.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mask (“Ameelg”), collected in 1912; wood and paint; 8.9". NMNH E274242&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Donald E. Hurlbert, Smithsonian Institution&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tsimshian masks such as this were often worn during dance ceremonies.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mask (“Ameelg”), collected in 1912; wood and paint; 8.9". NMNH E274242&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Donald E. Hurlbert, Smithsonian Institution&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-SG-Elaine-Kingeekuk-Dec2014-WC-275-GAL.jpg?itok=zctaNdxl" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"769","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SG-Elaine-Kingeekuk-Dec2014-WC-275-GAL.jpg?itok=oah5FKof" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SG-Elaine-Kingeekuk-Dec2014-WC-275-GAL.jpg?itok=oah5FKof" alt="Elaine Kingeekuk points to and discusses the materials in a parka" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="487" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Elaine Kingeekuk (St. Lawrence Island Yupik) talks about the sea mammal intestine and other materials that were used to create this parka.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sanightaaq ceremonial parka; collected in 1923; sea mammal intestines and fur tassels; 48.8". 12/3404&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Donald E. Hurlbert, Smithsonian Institution&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Elaine Kingeekuk (St. Lawrence Island Yupik) talks about the sea mammal intestine and other materials that were used to create this parka.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sanightaaq ceremonial parka; collected in 1923; sea mammal intestines and fur tassels; 48.8". 12/3404&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Donald E. Hurlbert, Smithsonian Institution&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-SS-CC-SS-KM-SB-Dec2012-WC-064-GAL.jpg?itok=YY6WLOSK" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"801","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SS-CC-SS-KM-SB-Dec2012-WC-064-GAL.jpg?itok=NL5owtY5" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SS-CC-SS-KM-SB-Dec2012-WC-064-GAL.jpg?itok=NL5owtY5" alt="Workshop participants analyze a piece of salmon skin" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="749" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NMAI’s Head of Conservation Kelly McHugh (&lt;em&gt;middle&lt;/em&gt;) and other workshop attendees listen to Sugpiaq artist Coral Chernoff, who was demonstrating how to tan salmon skin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NMAI’s Head of Conservation Kelly McHugh (&lt;em&gt;middle&lt;/em&gt;) and other workshop attendees listen to Sugpiaq artist Coral Chernoff, who was demonstrating how to tan salmon skin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-SS-Audrey-Armstrong-Dec2012-WC-146-GAL.jpg?itok=TNPZBwFU" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"782","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SS-Audrey-Armstrong-Dec2012-WC-146-GAL.jpg?itok=SX_oajrA" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-SS-Audrey-Armstrong-Dec2012-WC-146-GAL.jpg?itok=SX_oajrA" alt="Koyukon Athabascan artist Audrey Armstrong discusses salmon skin gloves and bags" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="495" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Koyukon Athabascan artist Audrey Armstrong talks about salmon skin gloves and bags during a workshop held at the Arctic Studies Center.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Koyukon Athabascan artist Audrey Armstrong talks about salmon skin gloves and bags during a workshop held at the Arctic Studies Center.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Grace-Anaver-Quinhagak-July2019-JC-8907-GAL.jpg?itok=m2htwFRM" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"758","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Grace-Anaver-Quinhagak-July2019-JC-8907-GAL.jpg?itok=zVru5_RL" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Grace-Anaver-Quinhagak-July2019-JC-8907-GAL.jpg?itok=zVru5_RL" alt="A person stands up pieces of seagrass " src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="480" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Tenaya-Bell--Quinhagak-Aug2019-JC-9349-GAL.jpg?itok=RPzXJMDB" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Tenaya-Bell--Quinhagak-Aug2019-JC-9349-GAL.jpg?itok=6cE5_S9N" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-WYI-Tenaya-Bell--Quinhagak-Aug2019-JC-9349-GAL.jpg?itok=6cE5_S9N" alt="Hands stitch together dried seagrass." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/269160_000_001_20130419_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=r_bKL1Rc" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"824","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/269160_000_001_20130419_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=bzuEaHlf" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/269160_000_001_20130419_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=bzuEaHlf" alt="A basket woven with seagrass" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="728" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yup’ik grass bag, Betty King (Cup’ik), circa 1965; rye grass; 18.9" x 16.9" x 6.3".  26/9160&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In videos offered through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website, Yup’ik culture-bearers and students demonstrate how to harvest, process and twine “taperrnaq” (coarse seashore grass) into baskets such as this one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yup’ik grass bag, Betty King (Cup’ik), circa 1965; rye grass; 18.9" x 16.9" x 6.3".  26/9160&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jacki Cleveland, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-TC-JT-DC-Metlakatla-June2016-WC-045-GAL.jpg?itok=x1bA0jtu" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"829","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-TC-JT-DC-Metlakatla-June2016-WC-045-GAL.jpg?itok=fPvj8mkO" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-TC-JT-DC-Metlakatla-June2016-WC-045-GAL.jpg?itok=fPvj8mkO" alt="A workshop harvests bark in the forest" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="724" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2016, the Arctic Studies Center collaborated with The Haayk Foundation to document the materials and techniques of cedar bark basketry. The project included the harvesting and processing of cedar bark.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2016, the Arctic Studies Center collaborated with The Haayk Foundation to document the materials and techniques of cedar bark basketry. The project included the harvesting and processing of cedar bark.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-TC-KB-KM-DC-Oct2016-WC-525-GAL.jpg?itok=qIame7cN" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":789,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-TC-KB-KM-DC-Oct2016-WC-525-GAL.jpg?itok=p6gjXVug" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-TC-KB-KM-DC-Oct2016-WC-525-GAL.jpg?itok=p6gjXVug" alt="Workshop attendees use cedar to weave small baskets" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="303" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;It also included a weaving workshop in Metlakatla and a residency at the Arctic Studies Center, where artists studied baskets from museum and personal collections.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;It also included a weaving workshop in Metlakatla and a residency at the Arctic Studies Center, where artists studied baskets from museum and personal collections.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-HM-JI-Oct2017-SO-8382-GAL.jpg?itok=-pCTjgJ9" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1003","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-HM-JI-Oct2017-SO-8382-GAL.jpg?itok=Z52cZ3eo" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-HM-JI-Oct2017-SO-8382-GAL.jpg?itok=Z52cZ3eo" alt="Helen Dick MacLean (Dena’ina) and Joel Isaak (Kenaitze) stretch out a moose hide" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="598" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At a community workshop, Helen Dick MacLean (Dena’ina) and Joel Isaak (Kenaitze) stretch out a moose hide during its multistep tanning process.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At a community workshop, Helen Dick MacLean (Dena’ina) and Joel Isaak (Kenaitze) stretch out a moose hide during its multistep tanning process.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--11 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-JI-ASD-Dec2017-WC-383-GAL.jpg?itok=InwkEg2r" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"728","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-JI-ASD-Dec2017-WC-383-GAL.jpg?itok=0r8bnJuh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/MT-AMTS-JI-ASD-Dec2017-WC-383-GAL.jpg?itok=0r8bnJuh" alt="A workshop instructor talks about tanning moose hides to a crowd of children" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="461" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Isaak talks about tanning techniques to students from a local school visiting the Arctic Studies Center.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Isaak talks about tanning techniques to students from a local school visiting the Arctic Studies Center.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Wayde Carroll, Courtesy of Arctic Studies Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--12 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2026-04/214801_000_001_20080530_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=Gx_DzYM7" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-1174-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/214801_000_001_20080530_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=wAc0yIww" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2026-04/214801_000_001_20080530_ps-GAL.jpg?itok=wAc0yIww" alt="A mosehide coat with beads and embroidery" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On special occasions, Athabascan leaders and other influential people may wear beaded moose-hide jackets such as this known as “chiefs’ coats.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chief’s coat (“Deniigi zes dghaec”); Ahtna Athabascan; circa 1890–1910; moose hide, beaver fur, cotton, wool and glass beads; 32.3" x 58.7" x 3.5". 21/4801&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On special occasions, Athabascan leaders and other influential people may wear beaded moose-hide jackets such as this known as “chiefs’ coats.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chief’s coat (“Deniigi zes dghaec”); Ahtna Athabascan; circa 1890–1910; moose hide, beaver fur, cotton, wool and glass beads; 32.3" x 58.7" x 3.5". 21/4801&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These items of the “Living Our Cultures, Sharing Our Heritage: The First Peoples of Alaska” exhibition have been on display at the Anchorage Museum from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian and National Museum of Natural History (NMNH) since 2010. “This is one of the largest and longest exhibition loans in the history of the Smithsonian,” said Dawn Biddison, a museum specialist at the Arctic Studies Center. She and Kelly McHugh, head of Conservation at NMAI’s Cultural Resources Center in Suitland, Maryland, worked with Alaska Native peoples who selected and helped prepare the items for shipping and placing the items on display—a process that began years earlier. “I think one of the hardest things about working with collections is they are often so far away from their people and places. So, this felt really great, getting [the items] closer to their home,” said McHugh.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Unlike many other museums’ exhibitions about Indigenous heritage that display items sealed behind glass, the goal of the loan was for Alaska Native peoples and tribes to be able to not only view but interact with their cultural belongings. The items on display here are continuously in use by members of Alaska Native communities. They are, in essence, engaged in an ongoing conversation with elders, artists and others whose ancestors created them. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Listening to a Collection&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Part of the NMNH, the Arctic Studies Center in Alaska provides access to Smithsonian collections as part of its collaborations with Indigenous communities. The items from the NMAI and NMNH on display at the Anchorage Museum have been co-curated by the Arctic Studies Center and Native community members. The museums wanted them to be able to inform Smithsonian staff how to properly care for these items and be able to show through the exhibition that “cultural items have a life,” said McHugh. “It was a highly collaborative project. In one case, I had to work on a gut parka that was torn and needed to be repaired. I was put in touch with Elaine Kingeekuk (St. Lawrence Island Yupik) who said that adhesives will fail. So, she came to do the repair here [at the NMAI’s Cultural Resources Center]. Watching her handle the gut and use minke whale sinew to sew it was impactful in ways I can’t describe. For her, a failed repair means your loved one freezes to death.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In another instance, McHugh recalled, Tsimshian artist and dance group founder David Boxley helped update the information about some masks in the collection. She said he “could look at some of the masks that were labeled Tsmishian but were not. He could identify characteristics you would see in these hundreds-of-years-old masks, these visual indicators of cultural traditions.  He was educating us to better understand what we were caring for.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In response to direction from Indigenous consultants, the “Living Our Cultures” exhibition is organized by cultural groups geographically from north to south along the gallery hall, with each side of the 10-foot-tall cases displaying the cultural belongings of a particular Alaska Native people. Of the United States’ 575 federally recognized tribes, 229 are Alaska Native communities. Represented here are the Iñupiaq, Eastern Siberian Yupik, St. Lawrence Island Yupik, Unangax̂, Sugpiaq, Yup’ik, Athabascan, Eyak, Tlingit, Haida and Tsimshian. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Among the many items on view are snowshoes and snow googles; gloves with porcupine quills; a bowhead whale amulet; eagle, salmon and killer whale headdresses; finely adorned parkas, caribou and moose jackets; canoe models; dance tunics, fans and masks (including one of an owl whose beak opens and closes); a child’s fluffy arctic hare parka and pants; sleds; and far more to catch one’s attention.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“We have traditional items blended with the modern. You say if it looks like a rifle or beautiful Athabascan moose hide gun case or metal boat or binoculars, it’s not traditional life. But no, we’re just adapting things,” explained Paul Ongtooguk (Iñupiaq), retired director of Alaska Native Studies at the University of Alaska Anchorage and one of the editors of the exhibition’s 312-page catalogue published at the time the exhibition opened in 2010. One example he cited was what he said his Iñupiaq people refer to as a “seal scratcher”—a tool made from four bearded seal claws lashed to a wooden handle that is used to scrape the ice to calm wary seals as a white-clad hunter crawls toward them. “Now we use a steel knife blade, but knowing how to use the blade, that’s traditional knowledge. You scrape it toward yourself while holding the blade horizontal in your hand to get that same sound of a seal.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;What those planning the exhibition wanted to avoid is “a static display that says this is a fascinating object that represents a static culture or cultures that are vanishing,” he said. “What we wanted to show instead is that these materials and the cultures they’re a part of are rich, they’re dynamic and they’re continuing to move forward.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Items that Teach &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The “Living Our Culture” exhibition display cases are uniquely designed.  The area can experience earthquakes, and if one occurs, the rods in the cases are able to vibrate at different frequencies so as not to bump into each other.  In addition, the items in the cases are mounted on brackets, and upon request of Native visitors, can be taken out. They are then reattached to holders on a special cart and wheeled into the museum’s “community room” where they can be more closely examined. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Some museums were very restrictive to people like me who wanted to see and touch and examine pieces but depended on people maybe not from our culture as stewards of collections that really belonged to us,” noted Boxley. In addition to consulting on collection items, he contributed one of his own masks to the museum. He also provided descriptions of items in the exhibition’s catalogue, including that of a classic red, brown and black-banded Ameelg mask made by a Tsimshian artist. “We’ve helped put things on display that are relevant and beautiful,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I’m kind of awestruck when I go there,” said Alice Rearden (Yup’ik), a language expert and storyteller who wrote the introduction for the Yup’ik section in the exhibition catalogue. She said being able to touch the items in the collection makes “you feel a connection and pride. You can look at an object and can’t imagine the process of making it till you hear an elder tell the story while holding the object. And then if you ask them how it was created and what it was used for, you get information that could have been lost. That’s why it’s so important to have that access to the materials.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These items have also been part of several workshops about customary arts held at the museum. In 2014, Kingeekuk and two other Alaska Native artists joined an exhibition residency in Anchorage, teaching conservators and Native art students how to clean, scrape, inflate, dry cut and sew seal intestines to create lightweight parkas. One example is the exquisite St. Lawrence Island Yupik snow-&lt;br /&gt;
colored ceremonial gut parka on loan from the NMAI that is decorated with plumes and beak parts from crested auklets. The exhibition also features an online video of Kingeekuk demonstrating her gut-sewing skills, starting with the soaking of the intestines. “When you’re soaking them” she explains in the video, “you need cold, cold water and snow in there. Ice cold water is the natural way of getting rid of the smell.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“What I really like about the exhibition is it feels like home in a respectful way. When you enter the space with the benches and videos you can sit and watch an interpretation of what you’re seeing without a ton of reading. Like, you’re seeing clothing and quill work that’s visually coded information,” explained Joel Isaak (Kenaitze), an artist and the operations director for the Kenaitze Indian Tribe. “You can see and know where people are from by what they wear,” he said. The exhibition “presents us as a living people.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;His own art includes bronze sculptures, installations, fish skin clothing, birch bark basketry and moose hide work. He learned to process traditional materials from elders such as Helen Dick MacLean (Dena’ina) as well as studying from Dena’ina collections around the world, including the Smithsonian collections. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;He and other Indigenous visitors have been able to closely examine and enrich the Smithsonian collections’ information when, for example, items made from salmon skin were taken out of their cases for a workshop in 2012. At that time Isaak was able to identify that the thread used to sew a pair of mittens was made of salmon skin rather than animal sinew as it had been labeled. “It [the salmon thread] expands and contracts at the same rate of the skin you’re sewing so makes for tighter seams. It fills in the hole the needle makes,” he explained. Working with traditional material such as salmon skins also has allowed him to relearn some knowledge such as the fact that, despite where the fish live, salmon skin boots are water repellant but not waterproof.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Another example of learning traditional knowledge anew is presented in a video of Helen Dick MacLean teaching Isaak the up to 20-step process for tanning moose hide. Isaak said just one hide can require “a month of hard labor of 8- to 12-hour days.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Along with the sewing gut, salmon skin, moose hide and other workshops the Arctic Studies Center has hosted and the other videos it has produced, it has produced 11 videos for an extensive “issran” or grass carrying bag workshop. This was conducted at the Nunalleq Culture and Archaeology Center in the 770-member Yup’ik village of Quinhagak on western Alaska’s Bering Sea, a community known for the ancient Yup’ik cultural items that have been found near there. Lead Yup’ik artist Grace Anaver, with guidance and assistance from her sisters Pauline Beebe and Sarah Brown, provided detailed instruction and field demonstrations on how to collect, process and dry the coarse seashore grasses needed and then twine and weave them into traditional issran similar to bags in the exhibition.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The center has also offered workshops and  produced a 15-part video series about gathering and weaving red cedar bark. The recordings feature Indigenous women weavers who gathered in 2016 to teach and learn red cedar bark basketry techniques of the Metlakatla Tsimshian people. At the same time red cedar bark has become harder to collect due to historic logging and other environmental factors. In one video, Haida master weaver Delores Churchill recalls during the 1970s,“The Tsimshian woman I learned from, she came to take my mother’s class and here she was weaving and her fingers were moving so fast and I said, ‘Flora [Mather] why are you in this class?’ and she said, ‘because I don’t have any red cedar bark. I need cedar bark, and I knew I’d get it in this class.’ So as soon as she went out the door, because I didn’t want my mother to know what I was saying, I said, ‘Flora, can I learn Tsimshian weaving from you?’” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaching Across Miles and Generations &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Given that many Indigenous communities are widely scattered across the large state of Alaska and can only be reached by boat or plane, the museum also offers online resources that facilitate regular access to the items for people who cannot make it to Anchorage. A number of videos posted online through the Smithsonian Learning Lab website (learninglab.si.edu) have helped inform community projects across the state teaching new generations traditional skills. In these recordings, Indigenous elders and other experts speak (some in their Native languages with English subtitles) about their peoples’ histories as well as about tool construction, hunting, fishing, weaving and other customary practices. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;NMAI’s Alaska Outreach and Engagement Specialist Melissa Nenantaxnen Shaginoff (Chickaloon Village, Pyramid Lake Tribe) emphasizes the importance of both in‑person and virtual engagement opportunities offered through the Arctic Studies Center. While online access can be valuable, she notes that certain forms of cultural knowledge must be experienced firsthand. “Oftentimes, collections have something to teach us that cannot be anticipated when viewed online or in a publication. Interacting with collections in person helps us honor the life embedded within them, the life given to us by the animals and materials represented in each item. As museum professionals we must ask ourselves, ‘How do we reframe a collections purpose to align with each community’s cultural values and protocols?,’ ‘Can a collection item be a teaching tool, as moment of connection, a facilitator for the transfer of our cultural knowledge?,’ and, ‘How can we make sure that it is Indigenous communities defining and leading this work?’” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The exhibition and the Learning Lab resources are also inspiring younger visitors. Alice Rearden, who contributed to the exhibition catalog, was also a former high school teacher in the town of Bethel and now is the cultural engagement manager at Calista Education and Culture in Anchorage. She appears in “Living Our Cultures” videos and on its website. “My students would go to Anchorage with their parents and call me to say, ‘We saw you at the museum ,Cucuaq! [her Yup’ik name],’ or they’ll see me on the website and, oh my gosh, the students love the videos. They really enjoy them and pay attention, and I like that they include a young person and an elder [in several of the videos] because that helps to promote learning for young people,” she said. “It encourages them to learn more about the objects … as many of the objects are still very much a part of our lives.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While working on the exhibition, Rearden also learned language from elders who described items in her Native Yup’ik language she had not heard before. She was amazed to “see the objects and for example [seeing an elder] describing a seal harpoon [they’d used] on the river and using high-level Yup’ik language describing parts of the harpoon that could have been lost because that material culture was gone. Our ancestors are ingenious, and we still carry that knowledge and those processes and are still amazing craft people and problem solvers,” she said. “This [exhibition] shows our cultures are still living as we are still trying to adapt to our environment today.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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David Helvarg
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;David Helvarg is an author, journalist and frequent contributor to American Indian magazine. His latest book is “Forest of the Sea: The Remarkable Life and Imperiled Future of Kelp.”&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 16:00:10 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ColavecchioS</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1174 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Reflecting Joy</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Kathleen-Wall</link>
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Spring 2025
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&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-9559536e177904bf3c8dd2d7a85d36a01e6d108236b26a8e25587051fab4a25e"&gt;
  
    
      
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Elizabeth Miller&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In her home in northern New Mexico, Kathleen Wall’s table is covered with a canvas tablecloth, on which are spread a menagerie of paintbrushes, buckets and unpainted figures. She squirts water into a small bowl of paint, stirs it with her brush, then applies dark gray paint to her latest creation, a tower of ceramic figures that seem to dance on top of each other. Between daubs that fill in boot cuffs and stars, she blots the brush on the tablecloth or, sometimes, on her jeans. She tried building a studio space off the side of her house, but working there didn’t feel right. She said, “I learned basically at a kitchen table, and I think that’s why I’m most comfortable here.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/star-portrait-gallery.jpg?itok=fb7HMyzB" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":946,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/star-portrait-gallery.jpg?itok=Zs3cnPx3" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/star-portrait-gallery.jpg?itok=Zs3cnPx3" alt="Kathleen Wall posing with clown sculpture on solid white background" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="364" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Artist Kathleen Wall holds a star out to a Koshare, a spiritual clown figure that plays significant roles in pueblo life and ceremonies. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Koshare Stars,” hand-coiled Jemez Clay; painted with natural slips and underglaze; dressed with leather and cornhusks; 27″ X 14″ X 11″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Artist Kathleen Wall holds a star out to a Koshare, a spiritual clown figure that plays significant roles in pueblo life and ceremonies. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Koshare Stars,” hand-coiled Jemez Clay; painted with natural slips and underglaze; dressed with leather and cornhusks; 27″ X 14″ X 11″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/DSC_8763-gallery.jpg?itok=gHhSgFYs" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1184,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/DSC_8763-gallery.jpg?itok=M3QvRKBr" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/DSC_8763-gallery.jpg?itok=M3QvRKBr" alt="Kathleen Wall paints ceramic clown sculpture in art studio" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="455" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall works on a tower of ceramic Koshare clowns at her kitchen table that also serves as her studio in Jemez Pueblo, New Mexico. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Elizabeth Miller&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall works on a tower of ceramic Koshare clowns at her kitchen table that also serves as her studio in Jemez Pueblo, New Mexico. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Elizabeth Miller&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/hands-close-up-gallery.jpg?itok=l-OeW0Bg" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"783","rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hands-close-up-gallery.jpg?itok=DP3vPTi_" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hands-close-up-gallery.jpg?itok=DP3vPTi_" alt="Kathleen Wall paints a small clay figure with a brush" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="496" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall uses natural paints and a fine paintbrush to carefully outline a Koshare figure’s stripes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Elizabeth Miller&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall uses natural paints and a fine paintbrush to carefully outline a Koshare figure’s stripes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Elizabeth Miller&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/mask-gallery.jpg?itok=1_ZCooMa" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1150,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/mask-gallery.jpg?itok=iWIPDgWB" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/mask-gallery.jpg?itok=iWIPDgWB" alt="A smiling clay face decorated with white, black, and red stripes and two long tufts of horsehair" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="442" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This wall hanging is one of the early works that Wall created when she was about 18 years old, two of which are now in the National Museum of the American Indian collection.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall hanging, Kathleen Wall (Jemez Pueblo), circa 1990; pottery, horsehair, cornhusk, ribbon and paint; 10″ x 7.5″ x 1″. 26/4019&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This wall hanging is one of the early works that Wall created when she was about 18 years old, two of which are now in the National Museum of the American Indian collection.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall hanging, Kathleen Wall (Jemez Pueblo), circa 1990; pottery, horsehair, cornhusk, ribbon and paint; 10″ x 7.5″ x 1″. 26/4019&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/gallery-view-gallery.jpg?itok=_bAxfCkQ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"906","rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/gallery-view-gallery.jpg?itok=87RUYTox" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/gallery-view-gallery.jpg?itok=87RUYTox" alt="Two clay sculptures on display in an art gallery depicting two sisters making pottery" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="662" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In this clay installation featured In her solo exhibition “Celebrating Native Legacies” on display at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center in 2008, one sister makes pottery while the other looks on. Behind them is a mica recreation of a Taos bean pot, on which is an image of their mother, Bernice, and her two daughters, Dawning Pollen and Turquoise Shell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Pueblo Pottery, Clay Continuity,” 2008; Taos clay (pot); Jemez clay (scuptures), slip, underglaze; approximately 40″ x  18″ x  20″.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Penny Singer&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In this clay installation featured In her solo exhibition “Celebrating Native Legacies” on display at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center in 2008, one sister makes pottery while the other looks on. Behind them is a mica recreation of a Taos bean pot, on which is an image of their mother, Bernice, and her two daughters, Dawning Pollen and Turquoise Shell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Pueblo Pottery, Clay Continuity,” 2008; Taos clay (pot); Jemez clay (scuptures), slip, underglaze; approximately 40″ x  18″ x  20″.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Penny Singer&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/nexus-gallery.jpg?itok=zOxO0Q0i" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"794","rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/nexus-gallery.jpg?itok=vycg4TSy" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/nexus-gallery.jpg?itok=vycg4TSy" alt="Two paintings of a great-grandmother and grandmother gazing forward on blue and brown background" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="756" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In these paintings of Wall’s great-grandmother and grandmother (&lt;em&gt;left to right&lt;/em&gt;), they are gazing toward their Woodland Anishinaabe culture, represented by the flowers. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Left:&lt;/em&gt; “Nexus of Culture: Ever-Changing Blossom,” 2023, acrylic on canvas; 48″ x 36″. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Right:&lt;/em&gt; “Nexus of Culture: Finding Flowers,” 2023, acrylic on canvas; 48″ x 36″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of George Morrison Center For Indigenous Arts at The University of Minnesota&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In these paintings of Wall’s great-grandmother and grandmother (&lt;em&gt;left to right&lt;/em&gt;), they are gazing toward their Woodland Anishinaabe culture, represented by the flowers. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Left:&lt;/em&gt; “Nexus of Culture: Ever-Changing Blossom,” 2023, acrylic on canvas; 48″ x 36″. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Right:&lt;/em&gt; “Nexus of Culture: Finding Flowers,” 2023, acrylic on canvas; 48″ x 36″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of George Morrison Center For Indigenous Arts at The University of Minnesota&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/SAR.2025-3-gallery.jpg?itok=3AbM-qf2" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1069","rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/SAR.2025-3-gallery.jpg?itok=JK3bq4N6" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/SAR.2025-3-gallery.jpg?itok=JK3bq4N6" alt="Clay sculpture of man in vest and headband in front of painting of landscape" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="561" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A clay portrait of Wall’s grandfather is accompanied with his Native name, Kal la, on a canvas because, as she said, “We are so much a part of our land that it is in our names.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Looking Toward Our Origins,” 2016, multimedia ceramic sculpture and painting; clay, wood, canvas, paint, sand, mica; 38″ x 48″ x 15″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A clay portrait of Wall’s grandfather is accompanied with his Native name, Kal la, on a canvas because, as she said, “We are so much a part of our land that it is in our names.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Looking Toward Our Origins,” 2016, multimedia ceramic sculpture and painting; clay, wood, canvas, paint, sand, mica; 38″ x 48″ x 15″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/IMG2832-gallery.jpg?itok=bKp36Hxz" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":780,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/IMG2832-gallery.jpg?itok=a7tyEcQP" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/IMG2832-gallery.jpg?itok=a7tyEcQP" alt="Clay sculpture of girl wearing beaded necklace and dress carrying two woven baskets" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="300" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall said she created this sculpture to commemorate her daughter’s Jemez Pueblo and Cherokee heritage “so she never forgets the Cherokee creation stories, the clan system, the clay beads, the woven baskets and the wild onions.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Holding Her Culture,” Jemez clay, slip;.underglaze; 28″ X 10″ X 11″. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall said she created this sculpture to commemorate her daughter’s Jemez Pueblo and Cherokee heritage “so she never forgets the Cherokee creation stories, the clan system, the clay beads, the woven baskets and the wild onions.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Holding Her Culture,” Jemez clay, slip;.underglaze; 28″ X 10″ X 11″. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/2755c-gallery.jpg?itok=HCMx_yVG" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":992,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/2755c-gallery.jpg?itok=nAdrzlww" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/2755c-gallery.jpg?itok=nAdrzlww" alt="Ceramic sculpture showing woman in red dress with black patterns holding baskets; pot and basket are beside her" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="381" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This ceramic sculpture depicts a Diné (Navajo) woman wearing traditional Diné clothing and accompanied by a Diné-style pot and baskets.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Ntsa’ha’kees (My Beautiful Creative),” Jemez clay, slip and underglaze; 20″ x 15″ x 11″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This ceramic sculpture depicts a Diné (Navajo) woman wearing traditional Diné clothing and accompanied by a Diné-style pot and baskets.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Ntsa’ha’kees (My Beautiful Creative),” Jemez clay, slip and underglaze; 20″ x 15″ x 11″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/IMG7948-gallery.jpg?itok=Q_5CegGE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":992,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/IMG7948-gallery.jpg?itok=iDqBWdiG" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/IMG7948-gallery.jpg?itok=iDqBWdiG" alt="Black, red, and white patterned clay pot with four sculptures of women sitting around pot opening" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="381" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sitting on the rim of this Jemez Pueblo pot are women from the Diné (Navajo) tribe and three tribal groups, the Woodland, Pueblo and Plains.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Friends Amongst Tribes Friendship Pot,” 2021; hand coiled with traditionally processed Jemez clay painted with slip, and underglaze; 12″ x 12″ x 18″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sitting on the rim of this Jemez Pueblo pot are women from the Diné (Navajo) tribe and three tribal groups, the Woodland, Pueblo and Plains.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Friends Amongst Tribes Friendship Pot,” 2021; hand coiled with traditionally processed Jemez clay painted with slip, and underglaze; 12″ x 12″ x 18″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/storyteller-gallery.jpg?itok=4PMrRArJ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":992,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1099-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/storyteller-gallery.jpg?itok=lWFWIyyD" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/storyteller-gallery.jpg?itok=lWFWIyyD" alt="Clay sculpture of a storyteller surrounded by seven babies playing with toys" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="381" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In this sculpture, a Koshare storyteller is surrounded by seven baby Koshares, some playing with toys such as a ball, a doll and a truck and another reading a book.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Kidding Around Koshare,” Jemez clay, slip, underglaze and leather; 28″ x 15″ x 13″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In this sculpture, a Koshare storyteller is surrounded by seven baby Koshares, some playing with toys such as a ball, a doll and a truck and another reading a book.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Kidding Around Koshare,” Jemez clay, slip, underglaze and leather; 28″ x 15″ x 13″.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kathleen Wall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wall, who is of Jemez Pueblo, Laguna Pueblo and Chippewa heritage, continues a matrilineal tradition of pottery making that she learned from her aunts and mother, acclaimed potter Fannie Loretto. All of them worked in their kitchens, fitting in making ceramics between raising children and feeding their families. So, with three children and a husband, Wall does also. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Wall’s Jemez Pueblo is tucked into a red canyon threaded through northern New Mexico’s Jemez Mountains. Dozens of Jemez villages once spread across these mountains, but since Spanish colonists arrived in the 1500s, the Jemez Pueblo people live in one corridor. The name of their pueblo—pronounced “hay-mess”—carries on the Spanish spelling for a tribe that called itself Hemish. Like many of the other 18 pueblos in New Mexico, this one is known for its ceramic artists.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Wall holds onto the landscape to which she has long felt rooted and the practices kept by Jemez Pueblo potters. Every piece begins with clay she collects from cliffs nearby. Then her work reaches beyond these traditions. During the past three decades, she has branched out from her roots as a ceramic sculptor to experiment with different mediums, including bronze, painting, video and photography. But it is clay that always brings her joy.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“This work here heals me when I’m feeling stressed or hurt or just overwhelmed with life,” she said. “If I sit at this clay table and I just enjoy this clay and its healing properties, I do feel better.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Pottery appears throughout Wall’s home, which was built on land her grandfather gave her so she might always have a place to make her art. A statue she named “Gentle Spirit Holding Pottery and Holding My Culture” sits near a sculpture of an “auntie” she made during a fellowship at the School for Advanced Research in Santa Fe. (She now calls “Gentle Spirit” her “cover girl” because it was featured on the cover of the Santa Fe Indian Market’s official magazine in 2023.) The auntie stands in front of a topographic painting of her neighborhood that explores how Native people can be so grounded in the place they are from that the two share names, such as that aunt and her neighborhood. A pair of faces she made and her children wore for the Jemez deer dance hang high over the piano, streaked with afternoon light. Storytellers—classic Pueblo figurines of an adult with limbs covered in children—that were made by her mother and aunts line the living room.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Wall still digs clay and the volcanic ash, which is needed to temper pottery against the heat of the kiln, from the same hillsides as her mother and grandmother. Then she wets, dries, sifts and shapes the clay as her mother and aunts taught her. Once the clay is dried, she smooths it with sandpaper and a wet sponge. Finally, she will adorn her figures with patterns that she learned in part by copying a book of designs her grandmother made for an aunt who then tutored Wall.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This knowledge has been priceless to her as an artist. As someone who depends upon her art to survive, she said what might have helped her business the most was what she learned by observing her mother selling her work. As a youth, Wall tagged along while she visited a line of shops, learning how to ask for the buyer, how to talk through pricing and inventory, and, crucially, how to see their responses as a business choice rather than a reflection of her work. “Growing up and having to deal with rejection, it didn’t affect me, I think, because of those upbringings,” she said. “That was vital for me to hang on to this art.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As a young potter, Wall was working on a storyteller figure and the clay dried before she could attach any babies. A price of a work had often depended on the number of babies:  a “six-baby storyteller”—a tedious and difficult addition—would cost more than a “three-baby storyteller,” for example. In spite of not being able to attach any, she headed to see one of her repeat buyers anyway. “I walk into the shop, and I have a no-baby storyteller,” she recalls, laughing. “I was quite nervous. But he loved them!”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Maybe it was the smile on the artwork that closed the deal, she said. The type of solo figure that has since become her signature is the “Koshare” clown. Koshare is a significant Jemez spiritual figure she frequently depicts with a star in hand, a nod to the traditional Jemez celestial calendar and its requirements of respect, time and reciprocity. People who know her work often call her figures “whimsical” for their jubilant expressions and wide smiles, which she said just effortlessly and unconsciously appear.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;She made a piece for the 2024 Santa Fe Indian Market that has four figures, Indigenous women from different tribes representing language, history, culture and traditional knowledge. The Pueblo woman symbolizes history: to her belt is tied a knotted rope that represents Popé, the leader of the 1680 Pueblo Revolt in which the Pueblo tribes united against the Spanish. The Anishinaabe girl holds sweetgrass, which denotes traditional knowledge—in this case, knowing how to gather the grass so some would grow back next year.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; “If you’re from Jemez Pueblo, you can almost recognize who she’s sculpting. She just brings to life what’s happening now—wearing your apron because you’re cooking or you’re going to be taking food to the kiva where the men are dancing,” said Mona Perea (Jemez Pueblo/San Ildefonso Pueblo). She is the artist services coordinator for the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts, which runs the Santa Fe Indian Market. “Her work is in living color,” said Perea. “It’s what our people are looking like today and what they’re doing today.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2020, the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe recognized Wall with a Living Treasure award, which included the opportunity to feature her work at the museum. That exhibition, entitled “A Place In Clay,” assembled her “Harvesting Tradition” pieces, which explore traditional harvesting, gathering, hunting and growing through a series of hand-built clay figures and acrylic and earth-pigment paintings; a couple of her “Corn Dance” figures, and a trio of “Koshare Stars” figures.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I was just blown away by the way that she was able to express really complicated ideas in really beautiful and accessible ways,” said Lillia McEnaney, who curated the exhibition. The Koshares had to be there, McEnaney said: “They are just her signature—that is what she kind of burst out onto the scene doing and she’s made such a mark in the contemporary Native artwork through that, and it’s really using those pieces as a way to expand her practice by keeping that foundation.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Wall is also a member of the Pueblo Pottery Collective, which has more than 60 members from 21 tribal communities. The group co-curated a traveling exhibition “Grounded in Clay: The Spirit of Pueblo Pottery,” which was displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York from July 2023 to June 2024. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On an afternoon this past February, Wall was at her table putting the last touches on a free-standing statue of Koshare clowns carefully balanced on one another’s shoulders, reaching for the stars. It had to be balanced. It had to be hollow. And to finish, it would need tiny touches of paint, small flourishes such as corn husks and a separately built basket of stars. That piece, “Koshare Stars, Celestial Bodies,” headed to the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair and Market, where it won second place in the Native clay works division in the juried competition.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I feel like, if I don’t challenge myself, nobody’s going to challenge me. I could sell a million tiny little clowns—I could make the same thing over and over and over and over, but if I don’t challenge myself, I’m not growing as person. I’m not fulfilled,” she says. “This, for me, is challenging. Wanting to do this piece to begin with has been festering in my head—how am I going to do it?”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Her work strides out into the world through markets such as the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair and Market and Santa Fe Indian Market, where she’s been recognized in the Best of Show and Best of Division categories. She loves that her pieces go into homes, bringing their energy to where people live. But those pieces also give her the gift of time to take on other challenges as an artist. Lately, that has meant pursuing a Master of Fine Arts from the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;To complete her master’s degree, she is creating video collages that play over clay components. The work visually represents difficult concepts, such as how Indigenous people can feel they must balance Native and non-Native perspectives throughout their lives, or the lingering disconnections and trauma stemming from federal policies such as the Indian Child Welfare Act, which removed American Indian children from their families to be fostered by non-Native families. She tries to make the losses visible, as in paintings of her grandmother and great-grandmother with a traditional Anishinaabe pattern of flowers typically filled with color instead left blank for lost Native identity.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I’m ever-evolving. .... I hope I always want to do something else,” she says, then gestures back to the sculptures on her table. “But I don’t think I’ll ever veer too far away from this work [in clay].”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;McEnaney also worked with Wall on a public art piece in Santa Fe called “Activating Oga Po’ogeh Land Acknowledgement.” That multimedia sculpture paired metal frames with concrete, multicolored ears of corn and video installations depicting community members walking across Oga Po’ogeh, the traditional Tewa name for the village where Santa Fe now stands. She said it was created to speak to the need for land acknowledgments and reparations efforts as well as to heal dispossessions.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Kathleen is always pushing herself in new directions when she could easily just kind of pass by doing the amazing work she’s always done,” said McEnaney. “She’s always pushing herself to think differently and create differently and make impacts in different areas.” While Wall’s work may center around Jemez clay and pottery, McEnaney said the fact that she is “moving into multimedia work, video work, installation work is really exciting and will hopefully give a lot more recognition and new audiences.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The film collages may not much resemble the Koshare clown sculptures. But that work returns, as all her work does, to terms she crafted to better express these ideas: inherited belonging and land identity. The video work is as grounded in her homeland as is her pottery. She said, “It’s just that the video installations reference and represent that landscape in other ways, while the pottery comes from the earth itself.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Wall said her pottery is “my heart-and-hands work. It’s what comes out of me without worrying about everything else, “ she said, “the diaspora and all these things that do consume me sometimes. This kitchen table contains … a joy that illuminates.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Elizabeth Miller
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Elizabeth Miller is an independent journalist who covers Indigenous cultures and environmental issues.&lt;/p&gt;

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</description>
  <pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2025 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ArtmanM</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1099 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>The Language of Hula</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Hawaiian-language-hula-revitalization</link>
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      &lt;span&gt;The Language of Hula&lt;/span&gt;

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Spring 2025
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Vol. 26 No. 1
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In Puna, Hawai‘i, rows of young hula dancers in bright red school uniforms fill the open-air pavilion for hula practice. Some move with a natural fluidity, others with a determined focus and still others with a joyful abandon. Their bare feet are unbothered by the rough concrete floor. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/hula-opener-gallery.jpg?itok=PzX9m7zr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"675","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-opener-gallery.jpg?itok=0qDSFRPh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-opener-gallery.jpg?itok=0qDSFRPh" alt="Group of people performing Hula in traditional Hawaiian dress" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="428" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Students of the traditional Hawaiian school Hālau Nā Mamo O Pu‘uanahulu taught by Kumu Hula (master hula instructor) Sonny Ching and  Kumu Hula Lōpaka Igarta-De Vera perform at the 2024 Ho’olau Kanaka Festival.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Students of the traditional Hawaiian school Hālau Nā Mamo O Pu‘uanahulu taught by Kumu Hula (master hula instructor) Sonny Ching and  Kumu Hula Lōpaka Igarta-De Vera perform at the 2024 Ho’olau Kanaka Festival.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/school-1-gallery.jpg?itok=Go06wfS7" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"908","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/school-1-gallery.jpg?itok=L9dZhK1p" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/school-1-gallery.jpg?itok=L9dZhK1p" alt="Youth practicing hula moves while instructor beats on drum" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="661" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Youth at Ke Kula ‘O Nāwahīokalaniʻōpuʻu Hawaiian language immersion school learn hula moves while Kumu Hula Kekoa Harman keeps the beat by beating a gourd drum. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Youth at Ke Kula ‘O Nāwahīokalaniʻōpuʻu Hawaiian language immersion school learn hula moves while Kumu Hula Kekoa Harman keeps the beat by beating a gourd drum. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/school-2-gallery.jpg?itok=9-_78AH2" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"908","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/school-2-gallery.jpg?itok=E7ie922u" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/school-2-gallery.jpg?itok=E7ie922u" alt="Children practice hula dance with instructor" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="661" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kuma Hula Pelehonuamea Harman teaches students a song that her great-grandmother composed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kuma Hula Pelehonuamea Harman teaches students a song that her great-grandmother composed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/hula-performer-female-gallery.jpg?itok=TRShSrUl" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":914,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-performer-female-gallery.jpg?itok=ZLdn0cLy" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-performer-female-gallery.jpg?itok=ZLdn0cLy" alt="Person in yellow dress and green leaf crown reaches upward with both hands" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="351" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Native Hawaiian Jazarey Cariño's wrists are adorned with "kūpeʻe" (bracelets) made of "kukui" (candlenuts), which draw attention to her graceful hand movements during hula.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Native Hawaiian Jazarey Cariño's wrists are adorned with "kūpeʻe" (bracelets) made of "kukui" (candlenuts), which draw attention to her graceful hand movements during hula.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/hula-performer-male-gallery.jpg?itok=wrBPYPH3" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":914,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-performer-male-gallery.jpg?itok=MQow9ly5" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/hula-performer-male-gallery.jpg?itok=MQow9ly5" alt="Hula performer in yellow floral crown and grass skirt plays small drum" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="351" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hula dancer Nathan Oki (Native Hawaiian descent) carries a "pūniu," or a coconut shell and fish skin drum. Depending on the dance, performers may also carry gourds, sticks or stones.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hula dancer Nathan Oki (Native Hawaiian descent) carries a "pūniu," or a coconut shell and fish skin drum. Depending on the dance, performers may also carry gourds, sticks or stones.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kai Markell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/Monarch-1-gallery.jpg?itok=2gy8XUVh" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1122,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-1-gallery.jpg?itok=P7UAvpyP" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-1-gallery.jpg?itok=P7UAvpyP" alt="Hula dancers perform on stage in long woven bark shirts" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="432" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These and the following three groups of performers were winners of the 2024 Merrie Monarch Festival competition held in Hilo, Hawaiʻi. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This group of wāhine dancers, Hālau Ka Lei Mokihana O Leināʻala, is wearing “pāʻū,” traditional skirts made of mulberry tree bark. Such dancers harvest their own bark and beat it until it is malleable enough to bend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These and the following three groups of performers were winners of the 2024 Merrie Monarch Festival competition held in Hilo, Hawaiʻi. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This group of wāhine dancers, Hālau Ka Lei Mokihana O Leināʻala, is wearing “pāʻū,” traditional skirts made of mulberry tree bark. Such dancers harvest their own bark and beat it until it is malleable enough to bend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/Monarch-2-gallery.jpg?itok=X7deWjZF" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"785","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-2-gallery.jpg?itok=mdsXVbml" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-2-gallery.jpg?itok=mdsXVbml" alt="Hula dancers performing on stage in vibrant red and black outfits" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="497" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This group of kāne dancers named Hālau Hiʻiakaināmakalehua is wearing traditional red outfits created to honor the volcano goddess Pele. Here, the dancers mimic hala trees. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This group of kāne dancers named Hālau Hiʻiakaināmakalehua is wearing traditional red outfits created to honor the volcano goddess Pele. Here, the dancers mimic hala trees. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/Monarch-3-gallery.jpg?itok=G672HQIO" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"785","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-3-gallery.jpg?itok=0kQXC1bG" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-3-gallery.jpg?itok=0kQXC1bG" alt="Group of hula performers dance in yellow patterned shirts and grass skirts holding gourd rattles" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="497" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hālau Kekuaokalāʻauʻala‘iliahi, dance a "‘auana" (modern hula) called “A Kona Hema Au” in honor of King David Kalākaua, the "Merrie Monarch" who helped revive hula in the late 1800s. They are dancing with "ʻulīʻulī," or feathered gourd rattles. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hālau Kekuaokalāʻauʻala‘iliahi, dance a "‘auana" (modern hula) called “A Kona Hema Au” in honor of King David Kalākaua, the "Merrie Monarch" who helped revive hula in the late 1800s. They are dancing with "ʻulīʻulī," or feathered gourd rattles. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/Monarch-4-gallery.jpg?itok=0g210r-G" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":891,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-4-gallery.jpg?itok=oDVBx45D" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Monarch-4-gallery.jpg?itok=oDVBx45D" alt="Woman performs hula on stage wearing a blue velvet dress and yellow floral headband" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="343" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wearing a velvet dress, Miss Aloha Hula Kaʻōnohi Lopes, winner of the soloist competition, dances to honor Kumu Hula George Holoka.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wearing a velvet dress, Miss Aloha Hula Kaʻōnohi Lopes, winner of the soloist competition, dances to honor Kumu Hula George Holoka.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of the Merrie Monarch Festival&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/Volcano-1-gallery.jpg?itok=3jovEgOQ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"655","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Volcano-1-gallery.jpg?itok=_z5K07lf" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/Volcano-1-gallery.jpg?itok=_z5K07lf" alt="Group of children in white and pink dresses performing hula on stage" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="415" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2024, girls from Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo performed at the 13th annual Festival of Pacific Arts and Culture held at the Royal Hawaiian Center in Honolulu.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kenjji Kuroshima/Courtesy of Volcano Art Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2024, girls from Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo performed at the 13th annual Festival of Pacific Arts and Culture held at the Royal Hawaiian Center in Honolulu.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kenjji Kuroshima/Courtesy of Volcano Art Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-05/RHC-gallery.jpg?itok=XoLEDLtz" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"655","rel":"slick-node-1096-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/RHC-gallery.jpg?itok=-A4BzJuW" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-05/RHC-gallery.jpg?itok=-A4BzJuW" alt="Group of boys in white shirts and white skirts perform hula to audience" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="415" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Boys from Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo also performed at the 13th annual Festival of Pacific Arts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kat Wade, Courtesy of Helumoa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Boys from Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo also performed at the 13th annual Festival of Pacific Arts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kat Wade, Courtesy of Helumoa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;They ground themselves with softly bent knees as they extend their left foot forward, then their right foot. Their weight shifts in unison. Their lower bodies maintain the steady rhythm of the “ipu” (gourd) being struck by one of their instructors, Kekoa Harman, while their outstretched arms “paint the air” with the “‘ula nōweo” (bright red glow of the sun). A sense of reverence permeates their movements. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At the front of the class, his wife, Pelehonuamea Harman, guides them: “Hema (Left)!,” “‘Ākau” (Right)!,” she calls out. She inspects hand gestures, gently corrects when needed. “Ma‘ema‘e nā lima!,” she emphasizes. “Keep your hand gestures clean!”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Hawai‘i, this sacred dance has been passed down from instructors such as the Harmans known as “kumu hula.” Its graceful movements paired with chants and songs had been a way to tell stories for centuries before missionaries dubbed this dance as pagan during the early 1800s. These youth practicing at Ke Kula ‘O Nāwahīokalani‘ōpu‘u, a “medium” Hawaiian language immersion school, at which all lessons and activities are taught in the medium of “‘Ōlelo” Hawai‘i,” or the Native Hawaiian language. They are the first hula practitioners taught exclusively in ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i in nearly a century. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Harmans founded this “hālau hula” (traditional hula school) to “renormalize” ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i while perpetuating this traditional dance. More than 100 students, from preschoolers through adults, are enrolled in the hālau, most of them fluent speakers of Native Hawaiian language. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The resurgence of ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i in recent decades has profoundly impacted the practice of hula, enriching the understanding of the dance’s historical, cultural and spiritual significance. As more hula dancers have embraced their Native language, they have been revitalizing both practices.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Storytelling Through Movement&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Polynesians sailed to and settled the Hawaiian Islands more than a thousand years ago. Their descendants, Native Hawaiians, developed hula, which expresses their history, culture, spirituality and appreciation for nature. This traditional dance uses movements to portray the words of their “oli” (chant) or “mele” (song). Oli are compositions that are primarily chanted, whereas mele are may be sung or chanted with musical accompaniment. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Traditional hula outfits vary depending on the style and occasion. Both men and women wore “pa‘ū” (skirts) that were typically made of “kapa” (barkcloth) and nothing above their waists. These skirts would often be dyed and decorated with stamped and painted patterns. Hula practitioners of both sexes also adorn themselves with “lei” and “kūpe‘e.” Lei encircle the neck and head and are typically made of flowers, ferns and other foliage, while kūpe‘e decorate wrists and ankles, which are often made with shells but can also be made with ferns or other foliage and serve to draw attention to the movements of hands and feet.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For centuries, the hālau hula has been one of several spaces in Hawaiian society where traditional knowledge was transferred from one generation to the next. “Our stories got passed down through the songs that endured. So too did our ‘loina’—our customs and practices. You ask permission before you go and pick your greenery for hula. You ask permission before you enter the ‘hālau’ (school grounds). Some of these practices endured in hula schools,” said Pelehonuamea Harman.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Hula practitioners served as vital links, connecting Hawaiian society to the lessons of its past to ensure its future survival. Traditionally, hula was a sacred practice, demanding strict adherence to rules and customs meant to keep them spiritually pure and focused. Practitioners’ lives were devoted to this spiritual art form, and their actions were restricted, including what they could eat, where they could go and what they could wear. Their role gave them the exclusive responsibility of presenting offerings and prayers to the hula gods on behalf of the people. Hula was often performed at religious ceremonies, chiefly celebrations and historical commemorations. Many hula compositions were believed to be divinely inspired. In this sense, hula served as a conduit between the spiritual world and the human world. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Multiple Hawaiian “mo‘olelo” (stories) recount hula’s divine origins. The most frequently mentioned deity in hula prayers and protocol is the hula goddess Laka. She is portrayed in Hawaiian chants as the source of inspiration for the movements, chants and overall artistic expression of hula. In a separate story, Laka’s relative, the goddess Kapo, is credited as the first kumu hula. In Hawaiian mythology, Kapo set up residence in Kā‘ana, Moloka‘i, where she established the first hālau hula. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The mo‘olelo of the volcano goddess, Pele, and her sister, Hi‘iaka, is perhaps the most well-documented, with several versions appearing in Hawaiian language newspapers at the turn of the 20th century. In one version published from 1905 to 1906 in the newspaper Ka Na‘i Aupuni, the author Ho‘oulumāhiehie identifies Hi‘iakas as the patron goddess of hula. As the story goes, Hi‘iaka learned the dance from her companion Hōpoe, whom she observed dancing by the sea at Nānāhuki, Puna. Pele, driven by jealously, turned Hōpoe to stone. This epic hula saga is filled with chants and songs that continue to be preserved by practitioners today.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Hula had been thriving in Hawai‘i for centuries before the arrival of Westerners. British explorer Captain George Vancouver described a hula exhibition with an estimated 600 hula practitioners dancing and chanting in perfect unison. By the 1820s, Protestant missionaries from America arrived in Hawai‘i and condemned hula as a pagan practice. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Driven by concerns of “public morality” and the perceived “lewdness” of hula, authorities sought to regulate its practice. In 1830, Queen Ka‘ahumanu, a recent convert to Christianity, banned public hula performances. In 1851, a law required a license for public hula, with a hefty fine or imprisonment for unlicensed performances. Hula continued to be practiced, however, often in secret.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Although so much of our traditions and knowledge was lost, a good amount of hula knowledge endured amongst our people. And although there were periods in our history where hula had to ‘go underground,’ once it was again acceptable or popular to dance hula, hula became synonymous with Hawai‘i and Hawaiian culture,” said Pelehonuamea Harman.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 1874, King David Kalākaua revived hula in the public sphere. During his reign, he encouraged hālau hula and invited dancers to perform at the ‘Iolani Palace. But the revival was short lived with the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1893. Despite overwhelming opposition by the majority of Native Hawaiians, the U.S. government, at the urging of the self-proclaimed provisional government, annexed the Hawaiian Islands through a joint resolution of the U.S. Congress.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As a result of Hawai‘i’s incorporation into the United States, cultural suppression intensified and was coupled with land loss and a ban on ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i in schools. Business elite and government officials began to view the islands’ natural and cultural resources as lucrative commodities. This led to the rise of tourism and the commodification of hula, with performances often tailored to meet the expectations of visitors.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While this provided some opportunities for hula dancers, it also risked diluting the cultural and spiritual significance of the practice. The poetry of the chant became subordinate to the dance form. Hula was choreographed for English language songs such as “Blue Hawai‘i” and “Lovely Hula Hands,” further disconnecting the practice from its Hawaiian language roots.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The 1970s saw a resurgence of Hawaiian language and culture known as the Hawaiian Renaissance. Hula became a symbol of Hawaiian identity and a means of reconnecting with ancestral traditions. Hālau hula became important centers for learning their Native language.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“The use of language in teaching hula is incredibly powerful because it allows us to connect with the dance on a spiritual level. When we approach the chant or song through the lens of our ancestors, we become vessels for their wisdom and experiences,” said Kekoa Harman. “The language carries the stories, emotions and history that have been passed down through generations, and it becomes a bridge between the past and the present.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;By the 1980s, however, the number of Native Hawaiian speakers had dropped dramatically. A 1983 survey indicated fewer than 2,000 Native speakers and less than 50 fluent speakers under the age of 18 inhabited the islands at that time. Hawaiian language advocates and educators established Hawaiian language immersion schools and rallied to overturn the ban on ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i in public schools, which had been in place for 90 years.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Hawaiian language revitalization movement took hold and continues to play a critical role in producing new generations of fluent speakers, many of whom are also kumu hula and hula practitioners. Hula’s resurgence amplified the importance of ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i, which, in turn, strengthened hula’s practice. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I love when I hear “‘ōlapa” (hula practitioners) talk about their favorite “mele” (song) or a certain hula that they learned that just becomes a standard for them. This tells me that they are thinking about the lyrics and connecting to them,” said Pelehonuamea Harman. “They learn to appreciate the nuances and beauty of our language through hula.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Continuing an Ancestral Legacy&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Harman comes from a long line of hula practitioners, going back at least six generations to a time when Hawaiian monarchs ruled the islands. “Within my family, certain dances were passed down from generation to generation,” said Pelehonuamea Harman. “My great-great-great grandmother, Nāli‘ipō‘aimoku, was a dancer in Queen Emma’s court. She taught her children and grandchildren. My great-grandmother, Mary Kawena Pukui, remembered learning dances and chants from her grandmother and mother.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Pelehonuamea Harman’s great-grandmother was a well-known Hawaiian scholar, hula expert and educator. In honor of her lifelong dedication to the preservation of Hawaiian language and culture, Pukui is featured on the 2025 Native American $1 Coin. While Harman did not learn hula directly from Pukui, many of the hula dances taught in hālau were danced by Pukui.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Pelehonuamea Harman began formal hula training at age 2 under Kumu Hula Carolee Nishi and continued as a teenager under Kumu Hula Kaha‘i Topolinski. She and Kekoa met as high school students attending Kamehameha Schools during the 1990s and reconnected at the University of Hawai‘i at Hilo, where they both enrolled in the Hawaiian language classes. They then became Hawaiian language immersion teachers and raised their four children in ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2009, the then husband and wife team resumed formal hula training under Kumu Hula Kimo Alama Keaulana, who had preserved many of the hula dances passed down in Harman’s family. The couple completed their training in 2011 and entered the guild of kumu hula.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Harmans opened Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo (Hula School of the Living Language of the Descendants) in 2012. Harman said although their personal and professional lives had focused on restoring ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i as a daily language in these islands, teaching hula was a natural extension of that effort. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Kekoa Harman said hula would not exist without the poetry, without the ‘ōlelo (language).“By immersing ourselves in the words, we not only learn the technical movements but also engage with the deeper meaning behind them. This connection creates a sacred space where both teachers and students can experience hula as more than just a physical dance.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Christie and Jason Zimmer enrolled their children in the Harman’s hālau 10 years ago. “We are an ‘ohana [family] who is committed to learning ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i. We joined Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo because the mission of this hālau supports our family’s cultural values. Throughout the past decade, both our ‘keiki’ [children] have grown a deeper understanding of their self-identity as kanaka Hawai‘i from the mele, hula and mo‘olelo taught by both Kumu Pele and Kumu Kekoa.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Kayla Asing signed-up her children for hālau to connect them to their culture. “It’s important to me that my keiki learn hula because it connects them to our ‘kūpuna’ [ancestors], our stories, our natural and spiritual environment and the traditions that shaped who we are,” said Asing. “It’s a way to carry our family legacy forward.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This cultural connection through hula is paramount for Asing as she considers her children’s future. Like a growing number of parents in Hawai‘i, Asing is raising her children in the Hawaiian language. She said, “Raising them in our native language is the foundation of our identity, and how we ensure that ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i isn’t just remembered but truly lived for generations to come.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;‘Ōlelo and Hula at the Smithsonian&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://festival.si.edu/2025/youth-future-culture/language-reclamation"&gt;Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo&lt;/a&gt; has been invited to participate in the &lt;a href="https://festival.si.edu/"&gt;Smithsonian Folklife Festival&lt;/a&gt; in Washington, D.C., this summer to highlight the strength of the Native language revitalization movement, said Halena Kapuni-Reynolds, associate curator of Native Hawaiian history and culture at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian. He is also a former Hawaiian language immersion student. “It’s really a privilege and a pleasure to be able to bring a group that represents my childhood experience, growing up in ‘kula kaiapuni’ [Hawaiian immersion]. In a lot of ways its a full-circle moment because I am not only able to be a supporter, but I can also be the interpreter and translator,” he said. “I think that speaks to the maturity of our Hawaiian language revitalization movement.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;According to the U.S. Census Bureau, Hawai‘i now has more than 18,000 Hawaiian language speakers and 29 Hawaiian language immersion schools. However, the long-term success of language revitalization efforts will depend on the ability to engage youth beyond schools, said Mary Linn, curator of culture and linguistic revitalization at the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, which hosts the annual Folklife Festival. “Having things like hula that young people are doing outside of the classroom, that they love and enjoy, and it’s in the language, really helps to show that it’s a language of daily use and of living, of life and of love.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When asked what success looks like for Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo, Pelehonuamea Harman said it is spontaneous choreography. “They should be able to get up and dance at a party, a social setting, in a cultural event or ceremony and choose both the appropriate song and if appropriate, dance for that context. They should be able to listen to a song and ‘haku’ [compose] the dance on the spot.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These young hula practitioners can now compose new chants and dances to document their history, culture and way of life, in the language of their ancestors. As more hula practitioners become fluent in Hawaiian and more Hawaiian speakers are trained in hula, this next generation will be in a unique position to expand the repertoire of hula, wielding their ancestral traditions as a powerful tool for self-determination. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“It’s important that when someone watches a hula, they can feel that connection—the dancer’s ability to honor and embody their ancestral knowledge and spirit,” said Pelehonuamea Harman. “In many ways, the true measure of a dancer’s skill is how well they can communicate that connection and bring the essence of the dance to life.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi
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&lt;p&gt;Ku‘uwehi Hiraishi is a Native Hawaiian journalist and fluent speaker of  ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i (Native Hawaiian language) who covers Native Hawaiian and other Indigenous issues.&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2025 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ArtmanM</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1096 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Stories Unbound: Exhibition of Narrative Art Shows More than a Century of Native Life on the Plains</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Unbound-Exhibition-narrative-art-Plains</link>
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      &lt;span&gt;Stories Unbound: Exhibition of Narrative Art Shows More than a Century of Native Life on the Plains&lt;/span&gt;

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Fall 2024
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Vol. 25 No. 3
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;For Lauren Good Day, her grandfather was everything a Hidatsa man should be. “I looked up to him in so many ways,” she said. “He was a warrior veteran, well respected in the community, held multiple Hidatsa ceremonial rights, and a family man, hunter and rancher.” Good Day, an artist and fashion designer who is of Arikara, Hidatsa, Blackfeet and Plains Cree heritage, wanted to acknowledge his military service and other deeds. So she created a muslin, wool and silk dress that she titled “A Warrior’s Story: Honoring Grandpa Blue Bird.” Painted with scenes of his time in the Vietnam War, the dress portrays him wearing a plume given to him by a tribal elder to protect him. While Blue Bird eventually lost his helmet and its plume in battle, he did indeed make it home.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This is just one of the captivating stories depicted on clothing, hides and other items as well as illustrations from the National Museum of the American Indian’s collection in the “Unbound: Narrative Art of the Plains” exhibition. Now open at the NMAI in Washington, D.C., this exhibition was first featured at the museum’s location in New York in 2016. This latest rendition is accompanied by a new exhibition catalog of the same name, and together they present an in-depth look at the history and impact of narrative art. Emil Her Many Horses, the Oglala Lakota curator of the exhibition and editor of the catalog, said they “celebrate how this style of art came to be and its cultural importance. It’s a way of passing on knowledge.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div id="slick-node-1027-story-slideshow-images-default-10" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1027-story-slideshow-images-default-10-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/1-warrior-dress-gallery.jpg?itok=3u92AVDr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1034,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1027-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/1-warrior-dress-gallery.jpg?itok=ayzUlojS" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/1-warrior-dress-gallery.jpg?itok=ayzUlojS" alt="A dress decorated with narrative art" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="398" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On this dress, Lauren Good Day painted scenes that depict the military service and other deeds of her late grandfather Emery Good Bird Sr., or Blue Bird.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“A Warrior’s Story, Honoring Grandpa Blue Bird,” Lauren Good Day (Arikara/Hidatsa/Blackfeet/Plains Cree), 2012; muslin, dyed wool fabric, pigments, brass sequins, brass bells, satin ribbon, cotton thread and acrylic sinew; 60" x 58" x 1". 26/8817. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On this dress, Lauren Good Day painted scenes that depict the military service and other deeds of her late grandfather Emery Good Bird Sr., or Blue Bird.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“A Warrior’s Story, Honoring Grandpa Blue Bird,” Lauren Good Day (Arikara/Hidatsa/Blackfeet/Plains Cree), 2012; muslin, dyed wool fabric, pigments, brass sequins, brass bells, satin ribbon, cotton thread and acrylic sinew; 60" x 58" x 1". 26/8817. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/2-hide-1929-gallery.jpg?itok=K9rrFeli" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1160,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1027-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/2-hide-1929-gallery.jpg?itok=zhYkahMj" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/2-hide-1929-gallery.jpg?itok=zhYkahMj" alt="Black and white archival photo of a seated artist decorating a piece of hide" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="446" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Narrative artists first captured their stories on hides such as this one being painted in 1929.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by John Alvin Anderson, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution 03494000&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Narrative artists first captured their stories on hides such as this one being painted in 1929.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by John Alvin Anderson, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution 03494000&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/3-blackfeet-painting-history-gallery.jpg?itok=i0JG4eAm" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"864","rel":"slick-node-1027-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/3-blackfeet-painting-history-gallery.jpg?itok=Tb5T_eUm" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/3-blackfeet-painting-history-gallery.jpg?itok=Tb5T_eUm" alt="Black and white archival photo of three artists painting on a large length of cloth" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="694" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Native peoples used cloth and canvas for pictorial art, such as these Blackfeet artists painting on one during the early 1900s, before paper became more widely available. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo from Bain News Service, George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress LC-B2-3374-13&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Native peoples used cloth and canvas for pictorial art, such as these Blackfeet artists painting on one during the early 1900s, before paper became more widely available. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo from Bain News Service, George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress LC-B2-3374-13&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h2&gt;Capturing Time&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Narrative art was born out of the Plains Indian style of pictorial storytelling. These were illustrations painted with bone and wooden brushes and pigments made from natural materials such as clay on animal hides, clothing or tipis. Mainly male elders, warriors and other storytellers used the scenes of specific events they captured as a way to document the history of a tribe and lives of important individuals such as chiefs. Often, they depicted the victories in battle. Others chronicled happenings from one winter to another and so became known as “winter counts.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As colonists expanded into the West, the Plains Indian tribes experienced profound changes during the 1800s. U.S government policies aimed at assimilating Native peoples disrupted the tribes’ way of life and traditions. As part of these efforts, colonists slaughtered bison by the thousands, shooting them from trains, so their hides became a scarce commodity.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Resourceful Indigenous culture keepers found new canvases on which to document their stories: cloth and paper, including ledger books. Typically used by Europeans to document inventory, blank ledger books could tell stories with not only paint but pencils, pens and even crayons. As paper became more available, ledger books became the main art medium for the Cheyenne, Arapaho, Kiowa and other Native inmates from the two-year Red River War between the United States and Southern Plain tribes who were incarcerated at the Fort Marion military prison in St. Augustine, Florida, from the end of the war in 1875 through 1878. Many scenes from the war were recorded through these artworks.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the time when American Indians were being forced onto reservations, from about 1870 to 1920, ledger art also began attracting the notice of tourists. So Native artists began to sell fewer pieces that told stories of conflicts with non-Native peoples and more about their traditional way of life. As Indigenous children were being forced to attend boarding schools and the efforts to suppress Native culture increased, the amount of ledger art being produced declined.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Continuing the Story&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the mid-20th century, however, Native people began expressing themselves in different ways. During the 1960s and 1970s, a time of political upheaval, the American Indian Movement gave Native people a voice and a vote. Narrative art began experiencing a resurgence through artists like Carl Sweezy (Southern Arapaho) and Silver Horn (Kiowa). Over time, its popularity grew, and individuals from tribes not historically associated with ledger art have learned to take on and interpret the medium.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Terrance Guardipee, an artist from the Blackfeet Tribe in Montana, witnessed this revival. Early in his painting career during the early 1990s, Guardipee traveled to Spokane, Washington, and met artist George Flett of the Spokane Tribe. He asked Guardipee if he was interested in joining an art group of a few Native artists who wanted to revive ledger art. Over time, Guardipee began experimenting by using antique maps of Montana as his new canvas. Using checkbooks, music sheets and whatever other antique paper materials he could find, Guradipee would make a collage on the maps, creating large pieces that told stories about his Blackfeet Tribe and family.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For example, “Running Eagle-Blackfeet Warrior Woman” immortalizes the female war chief in the male-dominated Crazy Dogs Warrior Society during the 1800s. “Running Eagle was a very blessed and a very powerful person,” he said. Other works include “Healing Ceremony,” which depicts an ill woman being healed by a medicine man, and “Mountain Chief,” which celebrates the Blackfeet warrior Mountain Chief who is a relative of Guardipee and a member of the Black Horse Society. “I worked hard on that to make it different, to make it impactful, and to represent my family and ancestors in the most beautiful and clean way I possibly can,” he said. “One ledger is one. No prints. I want them to be special.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In addition to stylized riders on horses, his pieces often feature streaks of color and sun discs that represent a higher being. “Everything in my art all revolves back to the Creator, who created my ancestors, who created me, who created ledger art and who gave us that power and gift,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Linking Past and Present&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Growing up on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota, James Yellowhawk became interested in art and began creating mixed media pieces using an airbrush, pencils and acrylic paints. When he discovered ledger art, Yellowhawk first started with simple forms and scenes before making it his own by incorporating images of characters riding a motorcycle. His love of bikes first started when his dad bought him one when he was 10 years old. Ledger art was an outlet for him. “It’s kind of like therapy,” he said, “like a diary almost.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Over time he started to challenge himself by turning to different items to use as canvas, including a tent model he found in an antique shop. Taking a few weeks to sketch out different designs, the final piece features a night sky design on top, four triangles on the bottom that are the Black Hills, as well as buffalo hoofprints and the sun. “It represents my homelands here at the Black Hills,” Yellowhawk said. “The ancestors, the Star Nation, all the loved ones that passed on, including my wife. It’s kind of like an honoring piece.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Yellowhawk also incorporates his love of traditional dancing into his works. Growing up, Yellowhawk said dancing was frowned upon by his church. So he would sneak to powwows to watch the dancers. Not until he was in his 30s did he make traditional dancing part of his life, and to his surprise, his nephew and father followed. “That’s the feeling I always wanted,” he said. “The best way to voice myself is through my art,” he said. “Makes me more proud of who I am.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Like Yellowhawk, Osage, Kaw and Cheyenne River Sioux artist Chris Pappan had to find his identity in the art world. Growing up in Arizona away from his Native homelands, he also struggled with connecting to his Indigenous roots. One day, he stumbled upon an old unused ledger book and recalled narrative artists used these as their canvases. “I thought, ‘Oh, this is what I should be doing,’” he recalled.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;His works feature reproduced photographs of Native people while overlapping and sometimes disorientating the face of the individual. These tell a story about the past and present. This mirroring effect is used on “Wah Zha Zhe Creation,” which is a portrait of the Osage Chief Bacon Rind. The background features stars that represent the Osage creation story. “Ledger art really brought me back to my community,” he said. “It was meant to be for me. I’m grateful.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Now based in Chicago, Pappan said he is currently working on larger scale pieces for public arts projects, including at O’Hare International Airport, that “push the boundaries” of what people might think of as Native art. “Native people have the autonomy to determine that tradition for themselves,” he said. “We have the right to say it’s art because we say it is.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Creating those new spaces is something familiar to Lauren Good Day. As one of the few female artists featured in this exhibition, Good Day acknowledges ledger art started as a men’s tradition, but it’s something she has made her own. “I tell mostly stories about women and my lived experiences,” Good Day said. Drawing inspiration from her mother, aunts and other female family members, Good Day centers much of her ledger art around feminine activities. She also focuses on details, such as decorations on their regalia. In her other works such as “Independence Day Celebration,” she shows her tribes traditions of dancing, ceremonies and giveaways through a female perspective.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As a fashion designer, Good Day has found a new way of incorporating her ledger art into wearable art pieces. Shirts, dresses and skirts flow with the bright colors and stories that Good Day’s ledger narrative pieces tell. She hopes they give the person wearing the items strength. “I create for Native people,” she said. “I always put Native people in a positive light. We wear our culture, and I want them to feel pride in it.” For certain works, she will envision how they may be used as a print for one of her pieces of clothing. “I want to create beauty in this world,” she said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Reshaping the world and giving it an Indigenous feel is at the center of Northern Arapaho and Seneca artist Dallin Maybee’s work. Growing up as an avid comic book reader, Maybee was drawn to pop culture. When he saw ledger art pictography for the first time, he recognized their storytelling potential, like characters in comic books. “These guys were like superheroes,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Incorporating his illustrating and beading skills, Maybee began experimenting with his ledger art by drawing upon those pop culture references. For example, two of his pieces feature SpongeBob SquarePants and the characters from the children’s book “Where the Wild Things Are,” but they are reimagined with an Indigenous twist. “Everyone sees themselves in these stories, … [like] that crazy little Max figure character getting into trouble and letting his imagination run away with him,” he said. “It’s just a small leap to Indigenize the characters and what they are doing.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Maybee also makes ledger pieces that are personal to him, including his family in Wyoming and his accomplishments in the courts where he practices federal Indian law. His artwork “Conductors of Our Own Destiny” was born out of an idea he had with one of his professors who wanted to discuss the effects of the railroad system on American law. Maybee reimagined that to tell a story of the devastation caused by trains in Indian Country as well as Indigenous peoples’ resilience. Created over the course of five months on a tanned bison hide, this 8- by 7.5-foot piece features a multitude of scenes, including cars mixed with horses to show how Native people can adapt, lodges representing relatives and a parade that highlights culture and traditions.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Our ancestors had the fortitude and strength to evolve and just simply do what they needed to do to survive,” the Colorado-based artist said. At the center of the hide is a beaded train with a Native man as the conductor, symbolizing how Indigenous people have taken control of their own destiny. “We are guiding that journey, regardless of these horrible things that happened to us,” he said. “We’re driving it.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous artists are also driving the future of ledger art. Terrance Guardipee remembers a time when he went to an art market and narrative artists had a small corner to display their work. Now, they have a wall to fill with their cultures’ stories. “That’s powerful,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;UNBOUND: NARRATIVE ART OF THE PLAINS&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Warrior-artists from the Native nations of North America’s Plains have long practiced a pictorial style of illustration. Today, both men and women draw upon their cultural traditions, personal experiences and artistic sensibilities as they continue to shape the Plains narrative style. In 2012, the National Museum of the American Indian commissioned new works from 11 prominent narrative artists from Native nations that traditionally practiced pictorial storytelling. Each artist created works that embody his or her distinctive style and voice. The following are some of those artists and a sample of their contemporary works as well as a few of the historic stories that are featured in the “Unbound” exhibition. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Historical Art&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Warrior Art &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Male warrior-artists traditionally painted tipis, buffalo robes and shirts with scenes of accomplishments such as taking horses, killing enemies or rescuing wounded comrades. These depictions served as public reminders and as validation.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On this shirt, for example, are three battle scenes organized horizontally from top to bottom. Each tells of a victory by the warrior drawn on the right. The victor is the same individual, as indicated by the repetition of a shield bearing two dots, each with a zigzag. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the 1800s, as the buffalo were decimated, artists increasingly used cloth and paper, including ledger books. Warrior-artists used the new media to provide intricate chronicles of their own and others’ exploits. Often created with factory-made pens, pencils, brushes, ink, crayons and watercolor, such drawings provided a means of cultural revival during the early years of the reservation era, from 1870 to 1920.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A man's shirt made of deerhide, decorated with pictorial art" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="6f250ac4-7051-4025-8b97-94e3856d3b40" height="525" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/4-mans-shirt-gallery.jpg" width="755" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Man’s shirt (back), Upper Missouri region, circa 1840; deerhide, horsehair, porcupine quills, human hair, glass pony beads, paint, pigment and sinew; 46" x 65" x 2". 17/6345. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Art from Fort Marion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Some of the best-known works of Plains narrative art were created by southern Plains warriors who were incarcerated from 1875 to 1878 at Fort Marion in St. Augustine, Florida. Seventy-two Cheyenne, Arapaho and Kiowa men were arrested at the end of the Red River War and held at the military prison in an attempt to ensure the peaceful behavior of their tribes. Officials encouraged the prisoners to produce objects for the tourist trade, providing them with drawing paper, pencils, ink, crayons and paint. Many of the warriors responded with illustrations of pre-reservation life on the Plains as well as their new experiences of incarceration. Below is a depiction of Colonel Benjamin H. Grierson meeting a Kiowa chief (&lt;em&gt;center right&lt;/em&gt;). The first commander of the U.S. Army’s Tenth Cavalry, Grierson was committed to peaceful relations with southern Plains nations but was instrumental in enforcing reservation-era policies. The other figures in the drawing are members of the cavalry.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A graphite and colored pencil artwork on paper, depicting figures on horseback " data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="5fcda7af-9bf3-4a27-8579-157ac2b5a3d5" height="565" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/5-zotom-warrior-art-gallery.jpg" width="752" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Leut Grierson Meeting the Kiowas on the Sweet Water,” Zotom (Kiowa), Florida, circa 1875; paper, graphite and colored pencil, 7.8" x 10". 20/6232. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Archival photograph of a man" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="93e6096d-2b55-49d3-b1fc-d641af42d7c1" height="422" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/6-zotom-gallery.jpg" width="295" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Zotom, one of the warrior-artists who had been incarcerated at Fort Marion in Florida, 1880.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Photographer unknown. Yale Collection of Western Americana, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library 1041021. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;From Past to Present&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Viewed together, Plains narrative artworks from the past and present reflect a strong sense of cultural identity. As life on the Plains changed, artists used pictorial storytelling to record the past and preserve their culture. Hallmarks of the narrative, or ledger, art form—representational figures, strong solid colors, events shown in sequence and stylized symbols—are visible throughout this exhibition. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Winter Counts&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
A winter count is an illustrated calendar history in which a drawing of an important or unusual event represents each year. The annual cycle is marked from winter to winter, hence the calendar’s name. Each Plains community may have kept its own winter count. Most often, respected members of the community determined which event should represent the entire year. An artist-historian illustrated the event. Since winter counts can span several decades, usually more than one artist-historian contributed. This winter count begins in 1798 and ends in 1902. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A photograph of pictorial art on muslin cloth" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="19475252-6690-4f9b-a01f-047fa87f8aaf" height="413" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/7-long-soldier-winter-count-gallery.jpg" width="755" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Long Soldier Winter Count,” North Dakota; circa 1902; muslin and paint; 35" x 71". 11/6720. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Archival photograph of a seated man in a tall hat" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="f2613f15-c346-4809-9a90-eee8bf1f2267" height="426" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/8-long-soldier-gallery.jpg" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Long Soldier (Hunkpapa Lakota), who described the drawings in this winter count, circa 1877. P17005. Photo by Orlando Scott Goff. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Martin Red Bear’s winter count below, he illustrates significant events from 1980 to 2004. Some recall personal occasions, such as when Red Bear, his children and their pets watched a lunar eclipse in 1983. Others are significant community events, such as former President Bill Clinton’s 1999 visit to the Pine Ridge Reservation. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A contemporary pictorial artwork made of paint on canvas" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="05e01a69-0336-4c79-b22b-b87f4a29cbb7" height="757" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/9-red-bear-winter-count.jpg" width="756" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Red Bear’s Winter Count,” Martin E. Red Bear (Oglala/Sicangu Lakota), 2004; canvas and acrylic paint; 45.9" x 45.7". 26/8020. Photo by NMAI Staff. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A photograph of a seated man wearing a cowboy-style hat and sunglasses" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="ec46fb58-d193-4eea-9cbf-a1366cbea56e" height="428" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/10-red-bear.jpg" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;In his work, Martin E. Red Bear integrates contemporary life with his tribal identity. Photo by NMAI Staff. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;War Deeds&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This elkskin robe records the war honors of Mountain Chief, a Blackfeet chief. His accomplishments are among those most often depicted on Plains robes and panels. Mountain Chief is known to have led battles against Sioux, A’aninin, Cree and Assiniboine enemies. As shown on this robe, he led horse raids and war parties against his enemies and killed bears (&lt;em&gt;painted in blue in the lower left corner&lt;/em&gt;). Each inverted U-shape indicates a war party effort. The nearby crescent symbols with an S-shape extending downward from the center record Mountain Chief’s success as a scout discovering enemy camps. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A photograph of an elkskin robe with pictorial imagery" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="94d78f00-e1ba-433a-951d-58bdd78d1666" height="613" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/11-elkskin-robe-gallery.jpg" width="755" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Elkskin robe, attributed to James White Calf (Blackfeet), circa 1920; elkhide and paint; 68" x 61" x 2". 22/1878. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Archival black and white photograph of a man with a feathered headdress speaking into a recording device operated by a woman" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="7b08fe0e-0391-4487-97b1-943c671c6c76" height="331" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/12-mountain-chief-gallery.jpg" width="358" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Frances Densmore records Mountain Chief for the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1916. Photo by Harris and Ewing P19125.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This elkhide (&lt;em&gt;below&lt;/em&gt;) shows six scenes of war deeds achieved by David Dragonfly’s great-grandfather Little Calf, the head chief of the Blackfeet during the mid-1800s.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Closeup of an elkhide decorated with pictorial symbols" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="db7fccd5-9f3e-43dc-89e1-798d228dd483" height="569" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/13-little-calf-war-record-gallery.jpg" width="757" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Little Calf’s War Record,” David Dragonfly (Blackfeet/Assiniboine), 2010; smoked elkhide and earth paints; 76" x 64". 26/8014. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="Photograph of a man in a white collared shirt with a bolo necktie" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="103b16b3-a174-4b58-a46e-0134ac0d54a0" height="377" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/14-david-dragonfly-gallery.jpg" width="299" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Born in Kalispell, Montana, and raised on the Blackfeet Reservation, Dragonfly often draws upon his Blackfeet and Assiniboine heritage in his designs. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Child’s Play&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Lakota children likely used this model tipi as a toy. Battle scenes decorate it, just as they would a full-sized painted tipi. The scenes depicted here may feature a close relative of the child for whom the toy was created. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo of a painted model tipi made of hide and wood" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="6e9ea328-e2b5-4043-911a-9a6df3e07053" height="994" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/15-model-tipi-gallery.jpg" width="756" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Lakota painted model tipi, North Dakota or South Dakota, circa 1890; hide, wood, porcupine quills, tin cones, feathers, horsehair, paint, sinew and twine; 28" x 22". 2/9535. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As an artist who experiments with mixed media, James Yellowhawk was attracted to this mid-1900s Coleman model tent (&lt;em&gt;below&lt;/em&gt;), which he saw in an antique shop. “I had this idea that it would be really nice to carry something from the old again to the new . . . to take designs from an old tipi and put them on a new, contemporary tent,” he said. The illustrations tell the story of a buffalo hunt, with the top depicting the night sky.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A painted model tent made of cloth and metal" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="3e544e08-1100-40f5-83a6-91a77d912f33" height="510" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/16-wacipi-oti-gallery.jpg" width="757" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Wacipi Oti,” James Yellowhawk (Cheyenne River Lakota), 2012; cotton cloth, fabric webbing, aluminum, metal, zipper, thread, hide, wool felt, feathers, wood, velveteen, cotton tape, ink and acrylic paint; 16" x 34.2" x 20". 26/9167. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A photograph of a man wearing a hat and sunglasses" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="8f169069-cd7d-4dd0-be98-298af6b82810" height="374" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/17-james-yellowhawk-gallery.jpg" width="297" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;James Yellowhawk grew up on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota. He first experimented with other mixed art before creating ledger art that combines his heritage with contemporary objects. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Contemporary Expressions&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the reservation era, from 1870 to 1920, the focus of Plains narrative drawings began to change. Many of the drawings had been created for Native viewers, but non-Native peoples increasingly were interested in purchasing them. Accordingly, artists less frequently illustrated battles against white adversaries. Instead they depicted scenes of buffalo hunts, courtship and family life.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="A colorful artwork on ledger paper depicting five seated figures surrounded by art materials" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="8135ec50-ce73-4317-a2c1-cdbf3d7248b9" height="622" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/18-we-learn-gallery.jpg" width="757" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The floral designs encircling the women in this drawing echo decorative features on the traditional items they are making. Although Good Day is depicting her own family, she said, “It could be any Native family. As women, and as Indian women, we learn and we teach.” &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“We Learn from Our Grandmothers,” Lauren Good Day (Arikara/Hidatsa/Blackfeet/Plains Cree); 2012; antique ledger paper, colored pencil, graphite, ink and felt-tipped marker; 13.7" x 16.7". 26/9021. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="Photograph of a woman with long hair wearing long earrings" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="b4a0140b-00da-4ae5-bb23-6af98cc8b0ec" height="370" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/19-lauren-good-day-gallery.jpg" width="295" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lauren Good Day is descended from 19th-century ledger artist Bloody Knife, an Arikara warrior whose drawings are in the collection of the Smithsonian’s National Anthropological Archives. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="A graphite artwork on ledger paper depicting a figure surrounded by stars" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="2b14f1b0-6a69-4c63-ab36-174ba384566a" height="1070" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/20-wah-zha-zhe-gallery.jpg" width="760" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Drawn as solid dots inside circles, stars form the background of this portrait of Chief Bacon Rind, one of the last of the Osage chiefs. The stars reference the Wah Zha Zhe, or Osage, creation story about people stepping down from the stars. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Wah Zha Zhe Creation,” 21st-Century Ledger Drawing No. 54, Chris Pappan (Osage/Kaw/Cheyenne River Lakota), 2012; antique ledger paper and graphite; 22.6" x 16". 26/8975. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo of a man with short hair wearing a t-shirt" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="92bb1d7b-b82f-4693-bfce-40f953bc5c07" height="373" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/21-chris-pappan-gallery.jpg" width="296" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Chris Pappan said of his art, “I intentionally distort portraits because people have a distorted idea of Native people. As artists and keepers of culture, we have a responsibility to promote the truth.” Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A colorful artwork on ledger paper showing four figures and a large yellow sun" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="33774004-1ab2-4a05-ab87-3adf46776e41" height="458" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/22-headdress-transfer-gallery.jpg" width="757" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;This drawing shows a ceremony in which an older woman is transferring a sacred headdress to a younger woman to bring her into the War Bonnet Society. The red sash indicates a female headdress. Both men are wearing blankets around their waists out of respect for the sun, as one sings and the other proclaims war stories. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Blackfeet Headdress Transfer,” Terrance Guardipee (Blackfeet), 2012; antique ledger paper, graphite, colored pencil and ink; 8.4" x 13.7". 26/8908. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="A photo of a man with hair tied back, wearing a dark collared shirt" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="3e76a7e3-07fe-4514-bba3-355072cb4f9e" height="373" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/23-guardipee-gallery.jpg" width="296" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Guardipee is well known for painting and drawing horse riders, warriors, spiritual leaders, society ceremonies and tipis. As background media, he uses antique ledger paper, receipts, checks, music paper and maps. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A doll dressed in an honor dress decorated with pictorial symbols" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="e18a5324-22c5-44e8-a71f-5bceea7b3a50" height="1126" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/24-doll-honor-dress-gallery.jpg" width="756" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;This doll is a collaboration between Juanita Growing Thunder Fogarty and her brother Darryl Growing Thunder. He drew the horse-raiding scene on the dress. She made the doll and completed the bead- and quillwork. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“Doll with Honor Dress,” Juanita Growing Thunder Fogarty (Assiniboine/Sioux) Darryl Growing Thunder (Assiniboine/Sioux), 2009; hide, muslin, porcupine quills, beads, ribbon, brass thimbles, brass spots, paint and horsehair, 20.8" x 10.6" x 2.8". 26/7725. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A photo of a woman with braided hair" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="f8a0c456-6e8a-42d3-a659-f993f68640e6" height="369" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/25-juanita-growing-thunder-gallery.jpg" width="293" /&gt;     &lt;img alt="A photo of a man wearing a cap and glasses" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="3d03a8e8-0340-4f3f-8168-72e44600fe0a" height="372" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/26-daryl-growing-thunder.jpg" width="296" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Juanita Growing Thunder and Darryl Growing Thunder. Photos by NMAI Staff.&lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A drawing depicting two characters in the style of Maurice Sendak's children's illustrations, on ledger paper" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="33a53c33-6db0-4f87-bed1-85ca6c3525d5" height="1091" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/27-indian-rumpus-gallery.jpg" width="756" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;Dallin Maybee describes this piece as an Indigenized approach to Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are,” a book he enjoyed as a child and read to his own children. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;“An Indian Rumpus,” Dallin Maybee (Northern Arapaho/Seneca), 2012; antique ledger paper, graphite, colored pencil and ink; 15" x 10.7". 26/8965. Photo by NMAI Staff. &lt;/h5&gt;

&lt;h5&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo of a man with braided hair and a dark collared shirt" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="acf3d535-626f-4351-bb62-8ad554323fe9" height="373" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/28-dallin-maybee-gallery.jpg" width="296" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dallin Maybee is a contemporary ledger artist who explores identity and the interplay between traditional and contemporary Indian life. His work addresses how these forces have allowed Indigenous cultures to evolve, survive and flourish. In addition to antique ledger pages, his media have included pages from the 1583 Geneva Bible, 16th-century rice paper, rawhide and buffalo robes. Photo by NMAI Staff.&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h5&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Jordan Dresser
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jordan Dresser, a member of the Northern Arapaho Tribe, is a journalist, filmmaker and museum curator.&lt;/p&gt;
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</description>
  <pubDate>Fri, 04 Oct 2024 18:03:27 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ThorneLE</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1027 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
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  <title>Built on Solid Ground: Indigenous Architects are Reinforcing Cultural Identities on Ancestral Lands and Beyond</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Indigenous-architecture</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;Arts and Cultures&lt;/div&gt;
      
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      &lt;span&gt;Built on Solid Ground: Indigenous Architects are Reinforcing Cultural Identities on Ancestral Lands and Beyond&lt;/span&gt;

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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2024" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2024
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&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 25 No. 3
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Aaron Levin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The windows of Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre glow as dusk descends on the overlapping lands of the Squamish and Lil’wat Nations in Whistler, British Columbia. The inside and outside of this building are connected. In the evening, the south-facing, floor-to-ceiling glass wall reveals the warm-toned interior. From inside is a direct view to the surrounding forest.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/squamish-cc-gallery.jpg?itok=tLekEjab" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"798","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/squamish-cc-gallery.jpg?itok=LcW-HIEV" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/squamish-cc-gallery.jpg?itok=LcW-HIEV" alt="A long curved building with a wall of windows, pictured at dusk" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="752" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;From outside, one can see elements of North Pacific Coast cultures within the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre through its glass walls while from within, one can take in the view of the neighboring forest. Its sloping roof is much like that of traditional longhouses.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Alfred Waugh, Formline Architecture and Urbanism 
 &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;From outside, one can see elements of North Pacific Coast cultures within the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre through its glass walls while from within, one can take in the view of the neighboring forest. Its sloping roof is much like that of traditional longhouses.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Alfred Waugh, Formline Architecture and Urbanism &lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/guadalupe-1-gallery.jpg?itok=QktxrQZQ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"503","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/guadalupe-1-gallery.jpg?itok=mUw_Vqfz" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/guadalupe-1-gallery.jpg?itok=mUw_Vqfz" alt="Exterior view of an adobe-style building" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="319" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Guadalupe House in Arizona is a single-family home made of aerated concrete, emulating the structural and insulating effects of adobe and recalling the pueblo’s Yaqui and Mexican American heritage. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Guadalupe House in Arizona is a single-family home made of aerated concrete, emulating the structural and insulating effects of adobe and recalling the pueblo’s Yaqui and Mexican American heritage. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/guadalupe-2-gallery.jpg?itok=Eo4xMi1F" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/guadalupe-2-gallery.jpg?itok=-hwZV16Z" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/guadalupe-2-gallery.jpg?itok=-hwZV16Z" alt="Aerial view of the courtyard of an adobe-style home" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The courtyard of Guadalupe House in Arizona. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The courtyard of Guadalupe House in Arizona. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/skokomish-1-gallery.jpg?itok=02IpcVkP" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"690","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/skokomish-1-gallery.jpg?itok=ZOk4gxv_" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/skokomish-1-gallery.jpg?itok=ZOk4gxv_" alt="A building with cedar pillars, illuminated at night" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="437" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cedar pillars hold up the entryway of the Skokomish Community Center, some with male and female “Welcome Figures” carved in wood as are traditionally in front of Salish longhouses. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cedar pillars hold up the entryway of the Skokomish Community Center, some with male and female “Welcome Figures” carved in wood as are traditionally in front of Salish longhouses. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/skokomish-2-gallery.jpg?itok=W5ACMAZi" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1164,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/skokomish-2-gallery.jpg?itok=XoLDvPjI" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/skokomish-2-gallery.jpg?itok=XoLDvPjI" alt="An interior hall with cedar pillars and an inlaid wood floor" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="448" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The patterns of the inlaid wooden floor and wall panels inside resemble the designs and woven wood of Skokomish basketry. Intensive discussions with Skokomish tribal members led to the community center’s final design. An elder said at the dedication, “When we come into this space we take in a deep breath, breathing in the life of our ancestors.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The patterns of the inlaid wooden floor and wall panels inside resemble the designs and woven wood of Skokomish basketry. Intensive discussions with Skokomish tribal members led to the community center’s final design. An elder said at the dedication, “When we come into this space we take in a deep breath, breathing in the life of our ancestors.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Daniel Glenn, Seven Directions Architects and Planners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/fort-mcmurray-gallery.jpg?itok=-MQPcUng" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"670","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/fort-mcmurray-gallery.jpg?itok=x5C_QpUm" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/fort-mcmurray-gallery.jpg?itok=x5C_QpUm" alt="People at an outdoor pavilion near a wooden structure reminiscent of a tipi" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="424" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Fort McMurray 468 First Nation Community Park and Pavilion in Alberta, Canada, is designed around a traditional star blanket pattern with a central fire pit, topped by wooden poles reminiscent of a tipi.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Wanda Dalla Costa, Tawaw Architectural Collective&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Fort McMurray 468 First Nation Community Park and Pavilion in Alberta, Canada, is designed around a traditional star blanket pattern with a central fire pit, topped by wooden poles reminiscent of a tipi.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Wanda Dalla Costa, Tawaw Architectural Collective&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/irshdc-gallery.jpg?itok=lMvFWyHq" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"984","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/irshdc-gallery.jpg?itok=U5-ADNFj" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/irshdc-gallery.jpg?itok=U5-ADNFj" alt="The exterior of a building illuminated at dusk, with a garden pond nearby" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="610" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre at the University of British Columbia connects to the landscape to provide calm for scholars and members of First Nations studying a dark era, when Indigenous children were taken from their homes and forced into Canadian government schools. A V-shaped roof sends rainwater pouring down a glass- and copper-lined chute to a garden pond, symbolizing the tears of those children.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Alfred Waugh, Formline Architecture and Urbanism&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre at the University of British Columbia connects to the landscape to provide calm for scholars and members of First Nations studying a dark era, when Indigenous children were taken from their homes and forced into Canadian government schools. A V-shaped roof sends rainwater pouring down a glass- and copper-lined chute to a garden pond, symbolizing the tears of those children.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Alfred Waugh, Formline Architecture and Urbanism&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/nmai-gallery.jpg?itok=EhpbYzgr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":955,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/nmai-gallery.jpg?itok=Q2w4n5D_" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/nmai-gallery.jpg?itok=Q2w4n5D_" alt="A curving exterior stone wall with a water feature" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="367" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cascading waters fall beside the curving, rough stone walls of the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C., creating a peaceful scene and sounds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff: Building designed by Douglas Cardinal/GBQC/Jones and Jones/Lou Weller/SmithGroup and Polshek Partnership&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cascading waters fall beside the curving, rough stone walls of the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C., creating a peaceful scene and sounds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff: Building designed by Douglas Cardinal/GBQC/Jones and Jones/Lou Weller/SmithGroup and Polshek Partnership&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-1-gallery.jpg?itok=iQ9MXhNj" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-1-gallery.jpg?itok=Hd_3XFBd" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-1-gallery.jpg?itok=Hd_3XFBd" alt="Exterior view of a modern building" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mille Lacs District 1 Health Clinic serves as a full-service medical clinic and a community center. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Bodwe/Seven Generations Architecture and Engineering&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mille Lacs District 1 Health Clinic serves as a full-service medical clinic and a community center. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Bodwe/Seven Generations Architecture and Engineering&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-2-gallery.jpg?itok=XtZuOpF6" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-1018-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-2-gallery.jpg?itok=uSRC0n2e" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2024-10/mille-lacs-2-gallery.jpg?itok=uSRC0n2e" alt="The interior of a building with a curving staircase" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The circular stairs and reception area are intended to remind visitors of the round lakes that are the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe’s homeland.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Bodwe/Seven Generations Architecture and Engineering&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The circular stairs and reception area are intended to remind visitors of the round lakes that are the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe’s homeland.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Bodwe/Seven Generations Architecture and Engineering&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cedar, a wood sacred to the North Pacific Coast peoples, is employed throughout this building. It covers the pillars that hold up the roof, and it forms a swooping roofline reminiscent of their traditional structures. The glass panels that make up the wall are the same dimensions as the traditional cedar planks that were once used to construct the longhouses of the Squamish and Lil’wat Nations’ ancestors. The total effect links ancient culture with contemporary design, said Alfred Waugh of the Fond du Lac Denesuline Nation, the building’s architect.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Waugh’s firm, Formline Architecture and Urbanism of Vancouver, British Columbia, is just one of the growing number of Indigenous architectural firms in the Americas. Half a century ago, Indigenous architects were few. Today, their designs are visible in museums, community centers, educational institutions, health centers and more across the landscape. Their body of work reflects deep cultural roots in modern building construction, helping to reinforce Native cultures on tribal lands and beyond.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Strong Foundations&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Before European contact and the upheaval of Native lives that followed during the 18th and 19th centuries, the Indigenous peoples of the Americas had developed an extraordinary variety of structures adapted to their ecological settings that used available materials and were grounded in cultural traditions and knowledge. For instance, longhouses on the Plains or in the Northeast were made of saplings embedded in the ground, their tops bent over to form a rounded roof that was then covered with reed mats. In the heavily forested Pacific Northwest, longhouses were often made of cedar posts and planks.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The conical tipi of the Plains was built of hides draped over poles. The tipi was a portable home with a form of displacement ventilation that could be varied by adjusting the lower covering and the flaps at the top. It was easy to erect and take down to follow herds and move communities in search of food from season to season.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the Southwest, the Diné people constructed their hogans by packing adobe around log frames, with the entrance always facing east. Knowledge of how to construct them was passed down by word of mouth from one generation to the next. “Hogans are sacred spaces,” said Diné architect Tamarah Begay of the Indigenous Design Studio and Architecture at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. “The organic, rounded shape emulates a woman’s pregnant belly and the opening through the center connects the earth to the sky. And while the whole community worked together, the process was guided by the women, accompanied by storytelling and songs.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The builders in what is now known as Chaco Canyon in New Mexico cut the area’s plentiful sandstone, split it into flat blocks and built monumental ceremonial structures that have lasted for 700 years. Other peoples in the Southwest used adobe mudbrick as their preferred material. The heavy bricks or stone moderated temperatures by staying cool for much of the summer and retaining some of summer’s heat into the winter.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Chaco, they also constructed roads that led to the ceremonial sites in the valley. Roads the Inca built in Peru served travelers from city to city and ultimately to the corridors of imperial power. In Peru, as well, the Uru people in Huancané province still build houses with blocks of turf cut from local grasslands. The buildings, called “putucos,” have a square base topped by a corbeled, conical roof.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Like other Europeans, the Spanish in South America were obsessed with the stunning, closely worked stone walls built by the Incas in Peru, possibly because they were built to manifest political power like the monumental stone buildings the Spaniards knew back home. However, their descriptions ignored the rest of Inca architecture, said Stella Nair, an associate professor of art history at University of California, Los Angeles. “For the Incas, the walls were just supports for the roofs, which were 4 feet thick and made of ephemeral organic materials such as ichu grasses, with long overhanging eaves covering four-fifths of the building,” she said. “Their extensive use of adobe and other ephemeral materials was also devalued by the conquerors, allowing Westerners to ignore much of Inca architecture.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous houses and other buildings were often not isolated structures but rather used by extended families or as community gathering places. “Most tribes were organized into regional confederacies with common values regarding land and environment and a common traditional knowledge and science,” said Theodore Jojola, a community planner from Isleta Pueblo and director of the Indigenous Design and Planning Institute.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Pueblos, for example, radiated out from a central plaza, oriented to the cardinal points and limited to the place where agricultural fields began. The Cherokee people organized their often large towns into red villages, headed by a war chief, and white villages, ruled by a peace chief. Tipis among the Lakota peoples were carefully organized in circles following strict, culturally determined protocols. The Mandan cultures of the upper Midwest built clusters of enormous round structures of mounded soil, able to house extended families. The architects of these houses were a special society of women who maintained the knowledge of the designs and directed the men who actually constructed them.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Square Pegs&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Like so many other elements of Indigenous cultures, such as their religions and languages, the design of their homes and communities were severely impacted by European contact. Conventional Western architecture—like the replicas of New England saltbox houses that the Bureau of Indian Affairs installed on reservations—was a form of colonization. “It took us from tipis and hogans and longhouses and put us in this barracks-style housing,” said Daniel Glenn (Crow) of Seven Directions Architects and Planners in Seattle. “This removed us from our own architecture, which embodies our diversity, our unique cultures and our connection to place.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Among the colonists’ plans to stamp out Indigenous cultures and languages were the Indian residential schools the governments in Canada and the United States created. Today, in an effort to heal some of their impacts, the Indian School History and Dialogue Center at University of British Columbia was built as a library for documents of that era and a link to the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Winnipeg, Manitoba. The consultative process with the Musqueam people on whose land the building sits offered insights that led to design decisions. One person, for example, asked for expansive windows to provide a view of the landscape to offer patrons some solace after reading the harsh historical documents inside. Red cedar—the “Blood of the Coastal Salish”—was used but was charred, both to protect the wood and to represent a “resilient people,” said Waugh. Originally, the university asked for a green roof planted with vegetation, but a copper roof was used instead as this metal is a symbol of dignity for the Musqueam people. A roof shaped like a butterfly with folded wings sends water pouring in front of a glass wall when it rains. “It’s a symbol of all the tears of those who went through the residential schools,” explained Waugh.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The impacts of colonialism are far-reaching. “The colonial project interrupted continuity and resilience of cultures worldwide,” said Wanda Dalla Costa, a member of the Saddle Lake Cree First Nation in Alberta, Canada. “It served to wipe out the uniqueness and heterogeneity not only of architecture but of cultural identity, worldview and lifeways.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Modernism—a style of design principally composed of simplified, right-angled lines—was developed in Europe during the early 20th century in rebellion to Victorian-era, elaborately decorated structures. It became a new standard around the world without regard for local customs or historical context. As one of its lead practitioners, Le Corbusier, said: “A house is a machine for living in”—an idea wholly anathema to Indigenous cultures.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Eventually, many Indigenous buildings rejected Modernism’s straight lines in favor of curvilinear exterior walls and roof lines and circular spaces inside and outside. Daylight flooded interiors. Modern materials sometimes echoed natural ones, such as bark or wood or hides. Today, “Indigenous architecture reconnects with the past and tries to express the identity of the people through a modern medium,” said Waugh.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous architects began reinforcing their cultures on landscapes during the last half century. In the United States, two pieces of federal legislation influenced the next stage in reservation architecture. One was the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act of 1975, which allowed tribes to contract for local services—including building design and construction—rather than work solely through the Bureau of Indian Affairs. “At first, they used non-Native architects, but then young Native architects began to play a more direct, strategic role,” said Theodore Jojola. “Reservations became a ‘new frontier,’ unhampered by the multiple regulations and codes of large U.S. cities, which opened the chance to innovate.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Then, in 1997, the Native American Housing Sovereignty Development Act gave federal dollars and authority for housing to the tribes. Casino revenue provided additional funding as well. The doors were now opened to firms run by Indigenous principals, offering them a chance to work directly with tribes and to create uniquely Indigenous buildings honoring and reflecting their cultures. In Canada, a 1994 Call to Action to correct the neglect of the past and the subsequent 2008 Truth and Reconciliation Commission led to rules requiring an Indigenous consultant on all requests for architectural service proposals.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Modernist era has passed. “Now people are looking for something else, with more contextual connection, meaning and authenticity,” said Dalla Costa, who teaches at Arizona State University and whose architectural firm has offices in Phoenix and Alberta, Canada. One of her goals as an architect is to make visible those characteristics, both tangible and intangible, that colonialism made invisible.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Sense of Place&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;All these designs and adaptations have influenced contemporary, Indigenous-led architecture. The Canadian architectural historian Daniel Millette has called this new wave “a reemerging architecture that captures elements of long-held traditions and joins them to contemporary design that is at once evocative and true to traditional pasts.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Central to these structures and communities, then and now, is the idea of “place keeping,” said Dalla Costa. “Place” reflects not only the ecology of a region but also the communities and people who have lived on their lands for millennia. “When we dig into this, we find there are embodied centuries of learning about the place, the space, the climate, the orientation, the materiality,” she said, “Then we start to understand how these places meet the needs not just of individuals but of communities, with their seasonal rituals and other sociocultural needs.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the important links to the surrounding world in these structures is often an orientation to the cardinal directions, “because that is how Native peoples relate to the land,” said Duane Blue Spruce, a Laguna Pueblo/Ohkay Owingeh architect and former public spaces planning coordinator at the National Museum of the American Indian.  The NMAI building in Washington, D.C., reflects this. Its conceptual design was by Blackfoot architect Douglas Cardinal and was completed by Johnpaul Jones (Choctaw/Cherokee) of Jones and Jones in collaboration with SmithGroup, Lou Weller (Caddo) of the Native American Design Collaborative and the Polshek Partnership. Like many Indigenous structures, its entrance faces east, toward the rising sun, for example. The central interior gathering space is circular, and the exterior walls are sinuous curves of Kasota limestone from Minnesota emulating windswept rock. It is surrounded by plants Indigenous peoples grow for food, fiber, medicines or ceremonial purposes and by large “grandfather rocks,” each placed in one of the four directions.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Yet Indigenous cultures often have a three-dimensional perspective of the world and acknowledge seven directions. Glenn’s firm takes its name from these directions. Besides north, south, east and west, the directions include upward (representing the Creator), downward (to Mother Earth) and inward to the heart, said Glenn.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;It Takes a Community&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous architecture is not just about the what and where but also the how. For most of the 20th century, conventional architecture expected the architect to impose his will on the client. “But Indigenous design is reciprocal,” said Jojola. “The architect becomes more of a facilitator, taking part in community engagement.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;All architects consult with their clients to learn what sort of building they want, what style and what purposes it must serve. But there’s a difference. “When I design a building in Lincoln, Nebraska, I work with a project director,” Oglala Lakota architect Tammy Eagle Bull, founder of Encompass Architects, said in the film “From Earth to Sky.” But with tribal projects, she said, “the whole community is involved.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous architects also immerse themselves in tribal history and traditions, in local ecology and landscapes. They visit and revisit the site, going well beyond the purely pragmatic to include the historical, cultural and spiritual. They listen closely to the people who will use the building, from youth to tribal leaders to the elders, to capture both the past and the views of future users. All have something to contribute. “We must look three generations into the past and three into the future while considering the present generations as the point that connects past and future,” said Glenn.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After such meetings, the architects go back to their computers and try to incorporate what they’ve heard into their plans. Then they return to the site and the people and go through the process again—often more than once—before everyone is satisfied with the design.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Making the Invisible Visible&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Despite their influence, Indigenous-led designs are only just gaining recognition within the profession at large, wrote historian Millette. “The thought that tradition in building crafts had little to do with architect-designed architecture prevailed during much of the last century and, in this way, entire architectural histories, including that of First Nations, have been cast aside as unworthy of serious study.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, the Society of Architectural Historians (SAH) has begun to make amends. “Indigenous architecture is underrepresented in architectural discourse and education,” the SAH acknowledged in a statement establishing a group for Indigenous architects in 2023. “Few architectural historians, let alone Indigenous architectural historians, have conducted research on the topic. Architectural education in North America is traditionally based upon European models and has rarely included Indigenous architecture.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Times may be changing, though. A group of Indigenous architects that includes Cardinal, Begay, Dalla Costa, Eagle Bull, Glenn, Waugh as well as Patrick Stewart (Nisga’a) and Brian Porter (Six Nations, Ontario) were honored at the 2018 Venice Biennale, bringing the world’s attention to their work.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Ultimately, these architects have a message. In the words of Alfred Waugh, “As we move into the future, it’s important that we bring the knowledge of the First Nations people and their connectedness to their land to find a new way to live with this earth.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Aaron Levin
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Aaron Levin is a freelance journalist based in Baltimore, Maryland.&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Fri, 04 Oct 2024 16:10:22 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ThorneLE</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1018 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Clearly Indigenous: An Innovative Exhibition Spotlights Ever-Evolving Native Glass Art</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/clearly-indigenous</link>
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;Arts and Cultures&lt;/div&gt;
      
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      &lt;span&gt;Clearly Indigenous: An Innovative Exhibition Spotlights Ever-Evolving Native Glass Art&lt;/span&gt;

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&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2025
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Vol. 26 No. 3
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Kim Wheeler&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;When Native American artists started experimenting with glass during the 1970s, they were enthusiastic to create in what was for them a new medium. Yet they found the market for their artworks tough. Many collectors and critics thought they were not “authentic Indigenous art.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div id="slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/2.-Angela-Babby%2C-Melt_-Prayers-for-the-People-and-the-Planet%2C-2019-gallery.jpg?itok=SQxFOI4d" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1214","rel":"slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/2.-Angela-Babby%2C-Melt_-Prayers-for-the-People-and-the-Planet%2C-2019-gallery.jpg?itok=LLpzE-_a" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/2.-Angela-Babby%2C-Melt_-Prayers-for-the-People-and-the-Planet%2C-2019-gallery.jpg?itok=LLpzE-_a" alt="A glass portrait of a young girl with a Husky puppy on her back" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="494" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angela Babby’s portraits, such as this Inuit girl with her Husky puppy, are enameled-glass mosaics—glass-on-glass that brings a saturation of color and luminosity to her art.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Melt: Prayers for the People and the Planet,” Angela Babby (Oglala Lakota), 2019; kiln-fired vitreous enamel on glass mosaic on tile board, 30" x 30".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Angela Babby &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angela Babby’s portraits, such as this Inuit girl with her Husky puppy, are enameled-glass mosaics—glass-on-glass that brings a saturation of color and luminosity to her art.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Melt: Prayers for the People and the Planet,” Angela Babby (Oglala Lakota), 2019; kiln-fired vitreous enamel on glass mosaic on tile board, 30" x 30".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Angela Babby &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/Bearded_Man_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=Bh6_cim4" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1134","rel":"slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Bearded_Man_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=kBi-gF-N" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Bearded_Man_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=kBi-gF-N" alt="Dale Chihuly in his studio with glass blowing equipment." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="529" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dale Chihuly taught many Indigenous students how to blow and fire glass at the hot shop he created for the Institute of American Indian Arts in Sante Fe, New Mexico, in 1974. His works include glass baskets.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of the Institute of American Indian Arts&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dale Chihuly taught many Indigenous students how to blow and fire glass at the hot shop he created for the Institute of American Indian Arts in Sante Fe, New Mexico, in 1974. His works include glass baskets.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of the Institute of American Indian Arts&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/Rolling_Glass_on_Table2_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=VHe4DdG0" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"753","rel":"slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Rolling_Glass_on_Table2_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=XlIL1dMX" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Rolling_Glass_on_Table2_20250807-gallery.jpg?itok=XlIL1dMX" alt="Robert "Spooner" Marcus and Tony Jojola work on a glass piece in a studio." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="477" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Robert “Spooner” Marcus (&lt;em&gt;left, &lt;/em&gt;Ohkay Owingeh) working with Tony Jojola (Isleta Pueblo) on a glass piece at Taos Glass Arts and Education in New Mexico circa 1999.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Tony Jojola&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Robert “Spooner” Marcus (&lt;em&gt;left, &lt;/em&gt;Ohkay Owingeh) working with Tony Jojola (Isleta Pueblo) on a glass piece at Taos Glass Arts and Education in New Mexico circa 1999.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Tony Jojola&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/m081470b6A_TNR-gallery.jpg?itok=I2AQsMUr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1229","rel":"slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/m081470b6A_TNR-gallery.jpg?itok=kfEWODfN" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/m081470b6A_TNR-gallery.jpg?itok=kfEWODfN" alt="A golden glass sculpture" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="488" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Tabac Basket Set with Drawing Shards and Oxblood Body Wraps,” Dale Chihuly, 2008; blown glass; 13" x 27" x 30". &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Chihuly Studio &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Tabac Basket Set with Drawing Shards and Oxblood Body Wraps,” Dale Chihuly, 2008; blown glass; 13" x 27" x 30". &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Chihuly Studio &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/TJ-5-59229_JOJOLLA_08_kl-gallery.jpg?itok=rPapQki8" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1234","rel":"slick-node-1159-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/TJ-5-59229_JOJOLLA_08_kl-gallery.jpg?itok=vPp-8x1b" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/TJ-5-59229_JOJOLLA_08_kl-gallery.jpg?itok=vPp-8x1b" alt="A red and black glass sculpture" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="486" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Untitled, Tony Jojola (Isleta Pueblo), 2014; blown glass with silver stamps, 8.1" x 7.8".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Tony Jojola&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Untitled, Tony Jojola (Isleta Pueblo), 2014; blown glass with silver stamps, 8.1" x 7.8".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Tony Jojola&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Five decades later, these spectacular works and those of other Indigenous artists are being showcased in studios and museums around the world, including in the exhibition “Clearly Indigenous: Native Visions Reimagined in Glass.” Originating at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the exhibition will be on display at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City through May 29, 2026. It features works from 33 Indigenous artists as well as one who, although not Native, inspired many others to become glassmakers.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Merging of Movements&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Many Indigenous artists have launched their careers after attending the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Cherokee textile artist and fashion designer Lloyd Kiva New co-founded the institution with George Boyce in 1962 as a high school. During the early 1970s, they developed accredited college courses for its students and invited art instructors to teach there. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of those professors was Dale Chihuly. He had studied under leading glass artist Harvey Littleton, who is considered a founder of the studio glass art movement. Chihuly co-founded the Pilchuck Glass School in 1971 in Stanwood, Washington, a town about 50 miles north of Seattle. Chihuly continued teaching at the Rhode Island School of Design and then at IAIA in 1974 as a visiting professor. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Although Chihuly is not Indigenous himself, he found Native cultures and art inspirational. He built the IAIA’s first “hot shop”—a glassblowing studio that includes a furnace for melting glass—and taught its first Indigenous students how to blow glass. This involves dipping the end of a steel pipe into molten glass. The glassmaker will then blow into the pipe to expand the glass into a cylinder, which is then further shaped with multiple tools. The finished piece will be carefully tapped off the pipe and cooled.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Chihuly had spent time with glass masters in Europe who often worked collaboratively, so while in the United States early glass art was based on a single artist’s work, Chihuly evolved the process to include many techniques and a team approach. “I’ve always worked and taught within a community of artists and think that it’s important for artists from all over the globe to be exposed to one another, to gain confidence and creativity through connection,” wrote Chihuly in an email interview.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Tony Jojola (Isleta Pueblo) was inspired by Chihuly’s teachings. In 1994, Chihuly co-founded Hilltop Artists, a school for youth from various cultural and economic backgrounds, in Tacoma, Washington, with Kathy Kaperick. She in turn created the Taos Glass Arts and Education program with Jojola in New Mexico in 1999. Several Pueblo artists working in glass today came out of this program. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Other first-generation Indigenous glass artists include Larry “Ulaaq” Ahvakana (Iñupiaq) and Carl Ponca (Osage). They in turn taught or inspired a second wave of leading Indigenous glass artists, such as Daniel and Raya Friday (Lummi), Ira Lujan (Taos/Ohkay Owingeh), Robert “Spooner” Marcus (Ohkay Owingeh), Raven Skyriver (Tlingit) and Preston Singletary (Tlingit). &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Singletary’s first experience with the art of glassmaking was serving as a night watchman at a glass works studio. He not only protected the shop but also prepped the kilns to heat and made sure the artists’ tools were ready for work the next day.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While he only spent about six months in that job, it motivated him to learn more about glassmaking. His first pieces were similar to a small drinking cup—just a cylinder with a handle—and colorful egg shapes. He has since achieved creating complex glass sculptures that are several feet tall and have intricate designs reflecting his Tlingit culture. This often requires assistance from his shop team. He has also collaborated with other artists to co-create works.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“The more complex forms you want to make, the larger the team has to be,” Singletary said. “A lot of people when they watch glassblowing, they think it looks like dancers. You look like you’re moving together in symbiosis. And it’s true. Once you get a great team that works together on a regular basis, it is very understood what needs to happen.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Glassmaking Evolution &lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While the first generations of Indigenous glass artists began with hot glass blowing, they went on to use other kinds of glass and techniques. “Warm” glass, which is fired in a kiln at lower temperatures, can be more like the texture of honey and can be fused with other  glass or “slumped” over a mold. Pieces of “cold” glass, or that which is already formed, can be used to create works such as stained glass.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Diné artist Carol Lujan, who works with fused “cold” glass and clay, said she was introduced to glass art in a clay workshop in 2013 at the Santa Fe Clay studio.“Working with glass is both challenging and rewarding. There are times when I make mistakes in cutting the glass, and also times when my pieces crack in the kiln. However, these types of issues only encourage me to learn more about preventing problems regarding glass cutting and the firing process.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Like Inuit carvers, some who have said the soapstone reveals what it wants to reveal, glass artists let the glass reveal the colors and light that come into play when they are working on their creations. And sometimes, even they are surprised by the revelation. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Singletary discovered the play of light almost by accident. He was working on a North Pacific Coast hat  with a large brim that comes to a flat point.  Upside down, it resembles a bowl. “I put it up on a pedestal and then these shadows came through and it was the ‘aha’ moment where I saw a secret behind the piece,” said Singletary. “As the sun shines through it,” he said, “it casts these long kind of abstract, elemental forms that change throughout the day.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lujan agreed that the interaction between glass and light can change how a work is viewed. She said, “It is almost magical to see how light can enliven glass and bring out the brilliance of the colors, and, conversely, how glass can absorb and reflect light.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Reflecting Stories &lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Letitia Chambers, former chief executive officer of the Heard Museum in Phoenix, Arizona, remembers the first piece of Indigenous-made glass art she ever saw. It was a Preston Singletary artwork at the Santa Fe Indian Market, one of the most prestigious juried shows for Indigenous art. “The color was so, so gorgeous and so beautiful and luminescent that I purchased it in the auction,” said Chambers.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This was around the same time Kiva New asked if Chambers would be interested in writing a book about Indigenous glassmakers. But she would only be able to devote her time to this project after she retired and moved to Santa Fe, where the Southwest Association for Indian Arts hosts its Indian Market each August. So in 2017, Chambers invited several glass artists to a meeting there to discuss the possibility of an exhibition and a book. “They were very excited by it,” said Chambers. “As I was interviewing artists, I would discover they knew of other artists that I hadn’t known about.”  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;She would go on to author the book “Clearly Indigenous: Native Visions Reimagined in Glass,” which was published in 2021, and co-curate the accompanying exhibition with Potawatomi textile artist and museum consultant Cathy Short, which opened at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in 2022. This show could have ended there, but Chambers said people who had seen it wanted to know when it was going to start traveling. She also wanted the stories that are in each of the pieces to be shared. So she worked with the NMAI to adapt the exhibition for its opening there in November 2025.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The works in the exhibition are as different as the artists who created them, yet one can see a common theme: just as glass can absorb and reflect light, these artists who know their peoples’ stories have used their exceptional skills to project them. Among them are a bowl that shows weaving techniques of a Lummi basket of the Northwest Coast, a glass “rug” with Diné designs of the Southwest and a sculpture of a bird craning its neck from Australia. “It’s really an incredible group of artists,” said Chambers. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Clearly Indigenous: Native Visions Reimagined in Glass&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The stunning pieces of glass art in this exhibition document the fusion of the Contemporary Native Arts movement and the Studio Glass Art movement. The result is an extraordinary new genre characterized by the intellectual content of Indigenous material culture and expressed through the dynamic properties of glass. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Solid in color or layered, glass can be transparent or opaque. It can be worked hot, warm or cold; it can be blown, cast, slumped, sandblasted, melted over a flame, or kiln fired; it can be ground, etched, engraved, painted, polished&lt;br /&gt;
or fused. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Regardless of the methods used, the art created is a personal expression of the artist. For Indigenous glass artists, inspiration may stem from everyday items, such as pots or baskets, or from traditional stories or oral histories. It can also express itself as the interpretation of cultural heritage, as honoring and giving voice to ancestors, or as commentary on contemporary issues affecting Native communities or society at large. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This exhibition presents glass art made by Dale Chihuly and 29 Indigenous artists from 26 Native nations from the United States and Canada as well as two Māori artists from New Zealand and two Aboriginal Australian artists. The selection of these works that follows is adapted from the “Clearly Indigenous” exhibition and its accompanying book of the same title. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h3&gt;Northwest Coast Vessels Reinterpreted in Glass&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous communities along the North Pacific Coast harvest bark, grasses and wood from dense forests and oceanside landscapes to make a variety of everyday items from woven natural fibers. The painstaking process of collecting and preparing the organic materials results in lasting, high-quality wares that families can use daily over time.     &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Salish, Tlingit and other Northwest Coast artists have reinterpreted centuries-old baskets, bags&lt;br /&gt;
and wooden house posts and boxes in blown and woven glass. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dan Friday (Lummi)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Dan Friday is a leading glass artist and teacher of glassmaking. He incorporates his culture into his work that, as described in the book “Clearly Indigenous,” often depicts “stylized birds, fish or other creatures that are prominent in the history or stories of his tribe.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A golden glass pot tilted on pot tilts on its side, illuminating a golden shadow from the light reflected through the glass." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="90106e19-3400-42cd-b354-2b832204cc94" height="613" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/10.-Dan-Friday%2C-Aunt-Fran_s-Star-Basket%2C-2017-white-BG-gallery.jpg" width="444" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;“Aunt Fran’s Star Basket,” Dan Friday (Lummi), 2017; hand-blown glass veil canes, 16" x 14" x 14". &lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Russel Johnson/courtesy of Friday Glass&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Raya Friday (Lummi)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Raya Friday is the younger sister of Dan Friday. Raya studied at Alfred University in New York, majoring in glass sculpture. She began working at the Glass Eye Studio in Seattle, Washington, and then as the head of research and development at the glass votive company called Glassybaby. Today, Raya creates delicately crafted works such as this “Lattice Basket” as well as large-scale glass installations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Opague blue-ish white glass sculpture with intricate cut pattern." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="8a0f5201-4c35-4c54-9716-2303a2153639" height="361" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/34.-Raya-Friday%2C-Lattice-Basket%2C-2017-gallery.jpg" width="451" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Lattice Basket,” Raya Friday (Lummi), 2017; blown and sculpted glass, 13" x 11".  &lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Kitty Leaken/Courtesy of the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pueblo Pottery Recreated in Glass&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Pueblo peoples of New Mexico have created vessels made of clay for millennia; however, several contemporary Pueblo artists have chosen to work in glass as their primary medium. Others who generally work with clay have collaborated with glassblowers to create works of art that incorporate Pueblo pottery designs onto blown glass vessels. Shapes created in glass known as ollas, seed jars and wedding vases, whether designed with ancestral or more contemporary motifs, are distinctly Pueblo. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Robert “Spooner” Marcus (Ohkay Owingeh)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Robert Marcus is a fourth-generation artist. His great-grandmother helped revive traditional pottery making at his Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo in New Mexico. His entry into glass art was serendipitous, when he was hired at the Glass Improvement Studio in New Mexico. He is known for his glass vessels.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Blown and enameled blue and white glass white splatters of blue and intricate black etchings." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="327ed674-10e2-44dd-b90d-ac9bd122ef02" height="534" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/28.-Robert-_Spooner_-Marcus%2C-Kiva-Ladder%2C-2018-gallery.jpg" width="427" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Kiva Ladder,” Robert “Spooner” Marcus (Ohkay Owingeh), 2018;  blown and enameled glass, 23" x 8". &lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Robert “Spooner” Marcus&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cultural Heritage Integral to the Art&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous glass artists are part of the continuum of generations that have incorporated cultural knowledge and community or family designs into new artistic forms. Although the means and modes of creating art change with time and availability of materials, cultural heritage remains integral to the artistic process, as seen in this Pueblo pot.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Preston Singletary (Tlingit)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Preston Singletary’s creations are produced with exceptional technical skill. In 1984, while enrolled at the Pilchuck Glass School, he studied with several major European artists. But when he met other Indigenous glass artists, he decided that his art would reflect his Tlingit culture. He has often collaborated with other glass artists, such as Tammy Garcia.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tammy Garcia (Santa Clara Pueblo)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Tammy Garcia originally worked with clay. She and her husband opened their Blue Rain Gallery in Sante Fe, New Mexico, where she met Preston Singletary. The two artists began working together on this piece in 2005. Together, they transformed her clay vessels into glass ones with brilliant colors.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A red glass pot with insect life details" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="8081c317-4673-4bda-b37c-35126ba7d541" height="313" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/42.-Preston-Singletary-%26-Tammy-Garcia%2C-Untitled%2C-2008-gallery.jpg" width="433" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Untitled, Preston Singletary and Tammy Garcia, 2008; blown and sand-carved glass, 8.5" x 10". &lt;br /&gt;
In the collection of Meilee Smuthe, Scottsdale, Arizona.&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Wendy McEarhern; Image courtesy of Preston Singletary and Tammy Garcia&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;Textiles Reimagined in Glass&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These glass objects reflect the importance of creating textiles to Indigenous communities. Spindle whorls for spinning threads as well as woven panels with fiber designs have been reinterpreted in glass using molds or slumping—a process that heats the glass until it droops, or “slumps,” over or into a mold. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Susan Point (Musqueam)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Susan Point is credited as one of a handful of artists who revived the art and design of Coast Salish peoples in southern Vancouver, Vancouver Island and northern Washington state. During the 1980s, Point began creating three-dimensional art in a variety of mediums, including glass. Her work represents historic art forms and imagery of the Coast Salish people. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A multimedia clear glass sculpture with the etchings of a face, punctured by maple spindle." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="5832a15d-c51e-4d4f-ac6c-a0f898216ec0" height="370" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/36.-Susan-Point%2C-Beaver-Women-Transformation-Spindle-Whorl%2C-2000-gallery.jpg" width="442" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Beaver Woman Transformation Spindle Whorl,” Susan Point, 2000; kiln-slumped and sand-etched glass, maple; 19" in diameter. &lt;br /&gt;
In the collection of Janet and Stephen Seltzer, Tucson, Arizona.&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Susan A. Point&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Carol Lujan (Diné) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Carol Lujan is on her second career. She began as a professor of Native American studies but has since developed as an artist who works with warm glass to create Diné (Navajo) blankets, masks, panels and bowls. Her work is notable for its strength of color and design. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Red glass sculpture featuring a geometric pattern and form that resembles the organic shape of textiles." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="c839fea3-0b71-4d83-b10a-71313acfb361" height="445" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/5.-Carol-Lujan%2C-Grandmothers-Legacy-Series%2C-2014-gallery.jpg" width="430" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;“Grandmother’s Legacy,” series, Carol Lujan, 2018; slump and fused glass; 14.5" x 12" x 1.5".&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Stephen Lang, Courtesy of Carol Lujan&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;Gifts from the Sea&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indigenous communities living on islands and along the coasts of lakes, rivers and oceans are interconnected with marine life and share this understanding and respect through their art. The interplay of “land” (the materials that make up glass, with sand as a base) and water in these richly colored, blown-glass fish and sea animals honor that relationship. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Raven Skyriver (Tlingit) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Raven Skyriver grew up in the Puget Sound area of Washington state, where he developed his reverence for the sea and the life within it. In the book “Clearly Indigenous,” his blown-glass art is described as being devoted to “realistic, yet surreal sea creatures”such as this vibrant mahi-mahi and sea turtle.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Glass sculpture of a colorful mahi mahi fish affixed to a metal pedestal" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="b0d7e4a0-2071-4dc4-b13d-beb24a3b5eb7" height="302" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/31.-Raven-Skyriver%2C-Mahi-Mahi%2C-2017-gallery.jpg" width="453" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Mahi Mahi,” Raven Skyriver, 2017; Offhand sculpted glass, 16" x 31" x 19".&lt;br /&gt;
Photograph by KP Studios, courtesy of Raven Skyriver&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A photorealistic glass sculpture of a turtle perched upon a pedestal. " data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="6b2a16a4-5707-49d9-b9f6-6121ed0de5b3" height="301" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/32.-Raven-Skyriver%2C-Adrift%2C-2015-2-gallery.jpg" width="451" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Adrift,” Raven Skyriver, 2015; offhand sculpted glass; 18" x 24" x 27".&lt;br /&gt;
Photograph by KP Studios, courtesy of Raven Skyriver&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Animals of the Land&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The respect Indigenous peoples feel toward the animal world is a prominent subject in many Native glass art creations. Hunting protocols often include thanking the animal and explaining how its body will be used. Animals also provide spiritual guidance. To communities who live in wooded areas, bears can symbolize strength and courage, and wolves may signify protection.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; Many Indigenous cultures refer to the North American continent as Turtle Island. In creation stories among Native communities in the Northeast, the turtle brought earth up from the underwater on its back, creating the continent in the shape of its own body. Turtle imagery has historically been seen on vessels, in drawings and as figurines and rattles.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Larry Ahvakana (Iñupiaq)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Larry Ahvakana is one of the first generation of Native American glass artists. He grew up with his family in Alaska but left home in his teens to study at IAIA and later at the College of Santa Fe in New Mexico. Throughout his career, he has created sculptures in many media, including glass, bronze, stone, wood and ivory. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Red sculpture of a scorpion" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="1e285e5f-acbb-4937-9253-754fa506555c" height="305" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/14.-Larry-Ahvakana%2C-Scorpion%2C-1978-gallery.jpg" width="458" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Scorpion, Larry Ahvakana, 1978; blown glass, ivory, metal, 5" x 8" x 3". &lt;br /&gt;
In the collection of Tony Jojola. &lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Tony Jojola&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h3&gt;Animals of the Sky&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Birds are important as a food source in Native communities, and they play primary roles in many Indigenous creation stories and other tales. Raven brought light to the world in the origin stories of several Northwest Coast tribes. Eagles carry prayers to the creator. Owls and other birds are featured in totems.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Artists sometimes express their respect for birds and other winged animals through depictions on everyday objects such as pottery and baskets. Butterflies, dragonflies and other colorful creatures of the sky are favorite subjects, whether in blown glass, cut and fused glass or as designs on vessels. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Preston Singletary (Tlingit) and Djambawa Marawili (Yolŋu [Aboriginal Australian])&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Djambawa Marawili is a painter, sculptor and cultural leader of the Madarrpa clan. During his visit to Seattle from 2016 to 2017, he collaborated with Preston Singletary to create glass art such as this bird using designs from Marawil’s bark paintings, a traditional Yolŋu art form.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Red-orange glass sculpture of abstract form featuring reflective geometric shape" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="10ba7297-fdaa-4468-8b68-9ebf9bc36654" height="680" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/_RZJ6699--%23C17-20-8-bit-print-gallery.jpg" width="448" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Untitled, Preston Singletary and Djambawa Marawili, 2017; blown and sand-carved glass. 32.5" x 5" x 5".&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Russell Johnson/Courtesy of Preston Singletary Studio&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h3&gt;Ancestors' Voices&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Djambawa Marawili is a painter, sculptor and cultural leader of the Madarrpa clan. During his visit to Seattle from 2016 to 2017, he collaborated with Preston Singletary to create glass art such as this bird using designs from Marawil’s bark paintings, a traditional Yolŋu art form.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lillian Pitt (Wasco/Yakama/Warm Springs) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lillian Pitt is a well-known artist who works mainly in clay and bronze. In 2014, however, she was inspired by a famous petrograph and pictograph image to create “She Who Watches,” which features a lead crystal mold of one of her masks she had made in both clay and bronze.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Silver crystal and steel sculpture of mask perched on a silver pedestal " data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="a2ec94dc-1887-481d-b5d0-a90bc783fadd" height="549" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/19.-Lillian-Pitt%2C-She-Who-Watches%2C-2014-gallery.jpg" width="451" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“She Who Watches,” Lillian Pitt, 2014; cast New Zealand lead crystal, steel and granite; 24" x 10" x 10".&lt;br /&gt;
Accession/catalog no. YI-34, collection of the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, Santa Fe, New Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Eric Wimmer; Courtesy of Tatiana Lomahaftewa&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adrian Wall (Jemez Pueblo)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Adrian Wall’s preference for glass art is cast glass, combining stone and glass into his work. He began as a sculptor at a young age but diversified his interests into mixed media. His piece “The Story Teller” is a mixed stone and glass sculpture that uses petroglyph designs to tell a Pueblo creation story.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="An abstract red and orange glass and limestone sculpture depicting several etchings and a pathway leading to a radiating face." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="80a6e2cc-3994-47b0-989e-1d4772c791d0" height="642" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/37.-Adrian-Wall%2C-The-Story-Teller%2C-2019-white-BG-gallery.jpg" width="458" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“The Story Teller,” Adrian Wall, 2019; cast glass, acid-stained limestone, 26" x 16" x 7".&lt;br /&gt;
In the collection of Wright’s Indian Art.&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Adrian Wall&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h3&gt;Contemporary Voices&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Important works in the Contemporary Native Arts movement make bold statements that teach Indigenous values to the broader public. Whether reflecting on the differences between past and current-day tracks or markings on the landscape, recognizing the continuing symbolism of corn maidens or juxtaposing a traditionally clothed Inuit child with a changing climate, the art in this section provides pointed social commentary. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ira Lujan (Taos Pueblo/Ohkay Owingeh)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Ira Lujan grew up making ceramics. He learned the techniques for making ceramics and glass are similar, but whereas ceramics are smoothed with water, glass uses fire. Lujan was a student of Tony Jojola, who suggested he incorporate Pueblo themes into his work. Lujan continues this today with designs of traditional utilitarian objects like vessels used to carry water. He also has been inspired by other Southwest cultures, such as when he created this “Hopi Maiden.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="A sculpture of a person dressed in green holds a pot of water." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="c999ee16-943b-465a-b04b-0e6d97a26b16" height="647" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/IL-3-60280_IRA_LUJAN_04_kl-gallery.jpg" width="432" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
“Hopi Maiden Water Carrier,” Ira Lujan, 2008; blown and hot-sculpted glass, granite base, 18" x 6.2" x 9".&lt;br /&gt;
Accession no. 60280, collection of the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture/ Museum of Indian Arts and Culture/Laboratory of Anthropology.&lt;br /&gt;
Photo by Kitty Leaken/Courtesy of the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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Kim Wheeler
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&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Kim Wheeler (Anishinaabe/Mohawk) is a journalist based in Treaty One (Winnipeg), Canada, who has been covering the Indigenous entertainment industry since 1993.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Sun, 21 Dec 2025 16:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ColavecchioS</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1159 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Fighting Fraud: In a Vast World Market, Protecting Indigenous Art and Artists is Ever More Challenging</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/fighting-fraud</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

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      &lt;span&gt;Fighting Fraud: In a Vast World Market, Protecting Indigenous Art and Artists is Ever More Challenging&lt;/span&gt;

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Fall 2025
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Vol. 26 No. 3
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Aaron Levin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2019, Detective Jason Rybak of the Thunder Bay, Ontario, police department was investigating a 40-year-old cold case murder when the names of several suspects showed up in a film he was reviewing for the case, not about murder, but about suspected art forgeries in Thunder Bay. Rybak said that at least three groups of forgers had created an estimated 4,500 to 6,000 paintings in the style of the Anishinaabe painter Norval Morrisseau and sold them at high prices as if they were originals. Exact numbers of the fraudulent works, however, are unclear because no documents could be proved to be linked to them. Even so, “It’s the biggest art fraud in Canadian history,” said Rybak. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div id="slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/01_264015.005.jpg?itok=y0tuaMGa" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1001,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/01_264015.005.jpg?itok=XEwGKdQu" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/01_264015.005.jpg?itok=XEwGKdQu" alt="Colorful print depicting a person and birds by Morrisseau" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="385" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This print showing Anishinaabe artist Norval Morrisseau’s distinct Woodland style is one of 18 of his works in the National Museum American Indian collection.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“We Are Gods Within Ourselves,” Norval Morrisseau (Copper Thunderbird, Anishinaabe), 1981; paper and ink; 20" x 26". 26/4015&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This print showing Anishinaabe artist Norval Morrisseau’s distinct Woodland style is one of 18 of his works in the National Museum American Indian collection.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“We Are Gods Within Ourselves,” Norval Morrisseau (Copper Thunderbird, Anishinaabe), 1981; paper and ink; 20" x 26". 26/4015&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/02_IMG_2174.jpg?itok=WqI1rzHb" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"917","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/02_IMG_2174.jpg?itok=8FWFAFRP" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/02_IMG_2174.jpg?itok=8FWFAFRP" alt="Police officer compares work on two monitors." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="654" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Inspector Jason Rybak of the Thunder Bay Police Department in Ontario led the task force that investigated the Norval Morrisseau forgery cases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Thunder Bay Police Department&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Inspector Jason Rybak of the Thunder Bay Police Department in Ontario led the task force that investigated the Norval Morrisseau forgery cases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Thunder Bay Police Department&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/03_usfws-fraudulent-stone-carvings.jpg?itok=PZ5bzRc8" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"795","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/03_usfws-fraudulent-stone-carvings.jpg?itok=_a0WxDWI" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/03_usfws-fraudulent-stone-carvings.jpg?itok=_a0WxDWI" alt="A table filled with fraudulent carvings." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="755" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These carvings imported from the Philippines and amulets based on Aleut masks created by a non-Native shop owner in Seattle were misrepresented as being Indigenous made.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by U.S. Fish and wildlife service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These carvings imported from the Philippines and amulets based on Aleut masks created by a non-Native shop owner in Seattle were misrepresented as being Indigenous made.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by U.S. Fish and wildlife service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/04_1st-Pic.jpg?itok=EDjZDmDW" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":735,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/04_1st-Pic.jpg?itok=pGzSQenx" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/04_1st-Pic.jpg?itok=pGzSQenx" alt="Fraudulent amulet based on white Aleut masks" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="283" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These carvings imported from the Philippines and amulets based on Aleut masks created by a non-Native shop owner in Seattle were misrepresented as being Indigenous made.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by U.S. Fish and wildlife service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These carvings imported from the Philippines and amulets based on Aleut masks created by a non-Native shop owner in Seattle were misrepresented as being Indigenous made.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by U.S. Fish and wildlife service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/05_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken-1_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=ChOqswb5" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1142,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/05_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken-1_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=Nxdq-Ift" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/05_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken-1_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=Nxdq-Ift" alt="A crowd of people at the Sante Fe Art Market" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="439" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;More than 1,000 Native artists from across North America showcase their art each summer at the SWAIA’s Santa Fe Indian Market.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;More than 1,000 Native artists from across North America showcase their art each summer at the SWAIA’s Santa Fe Indian Market.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/06_Aspen-Dickson_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken_03-%281%29-%281%29_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=sTN2M3kU" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":865,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/06_Aspen-Dickson_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken_03-%281%29-%281%29_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=ZJfL_rXB" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/06_Aspen-Dickson_2025-Indian-Market_photo-by-Kitty-Leaken_03-%281%29-%281%29_4.5X6.5%27.jpg?itok=ZJfL_rXB" alt="A vendor in a bright red dress and leather rimmed hat displays their jewelry." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="333" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;More than 1,000 Native artists from across North America showcase their art each summer at the SWAIA’s Santa Fe Indian Market.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;More than 1,000 Native artists from across North America showcase their art each summer at the SWAIA’s Santa Fe Indian Market.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Kitty Leaken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/07_0070-20181130-SP-Smithsonian_10X6.5%27.jpg?itok=7oahbJId" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"881","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/07_0070-20181130-SP-Smithsonian_10X6.5%27.jpg?itok=qFP4PrnY" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/07_0070-20181130-SP-Smithsonian_10X6.5%27.jpg?itok=qFP4PrnY" alt="People look at the art pieces at the Native Art Market." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="681" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the annual Native Art Market at the National Museum of American Indian, visitors can not only buy art but learn from the Indigenous artists, such as Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the annual Native Art Market at the National Museum of American Indian, visitors can not only buy art but learn from the Indigenous artists, such as Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/P1030724-gallery-3_0.jpg?itok=_qnTZe0d" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/P1030724-gallery-3_0.jpg?itok=Na-oqskS" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/P1030724-gallery-3_0.jpg?itok=Na-oqskS" alt="A vendor talks to visitors at the Native Art Market." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the annual Native Art Market at the National Museum of American Indian, visitors can not only buy art but learn from the Indigenous artists, such as Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Aaron Levin&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the annual Native Art Market at the National Museum of American Indian, visitors can not only buy art but learn from the Indigenous artists, such as Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Aaron Levin&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/09_CP17477963412X8%27.jpg?itok=R9NvQTCA" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"791","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/09_CP17477963412X8%27.jpg?itok=_5--QfcY" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/09_CP17477963412X8%27.jpg?itok=_5--QfcY" alt="CEO Chloe Ryan leans on a robot as it creates a new painting." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="759" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics, has developed a program that uses artificial intelligence to analyze existing paintings and paint new ones using a robotic arm that can paint on canvases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by The Canadian Press/Christopher Katsarov&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics, has developed a program that uses artificial intelligence to analyze existing paintings and paint new ones using a robotic arm that can paint on canvases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by The Canadian Press/Christopher Katsarov&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/10_CP174779637_12X7.jpg?itok=1tSBqj7l" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1226","rel":"slick-node-1153-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/10_CP174779637_12X7.jpg?itok=AQ7tjMgm" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/10_CP174779637_12X7.jpg?itok=AQ7tjMgm" alt="Robot arm equipped with a paint brush paints on a canvas." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="489" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics, has developed a program that uses artificial intelligence to analyze existing paintings and paint new ones using a robotic arm that can paint on canvases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by The Canadian Press/Christopher Katsarov&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics, has developed a program that uses artificial intelligence to analyze existing paintings and paint new ones using a robotic arm that can paint on canvases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by The Canadian Press/Christopher Katsarov&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Morrisseau (who signed his painting with his Indigenous name of Copper Thunderbird) was a self-taught artist who painted an immense number of paintings. He created a new approach to art, termed the Woodland Style, mixing aspects of modern European painting with imagery from his Anishinaabe culture. The human or animal figures in his works are painted with intense colors and heavily outlined in black.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, the same qualities that made his bold paintings so visually and emotionally powerful also made them somewhat easier to replicate illicitly. Morrisseau generally applied colors flatly, and his trademark black outlines were easy to copy. “Because so many unsecure works flooded the market, many buyers began to recognize a visual aesthetic that did not align with art by Morrisseau,” said art historian Carmen Robertson of Carleton University in Ottawa. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Determining which paintings Morrisseau created was challenging. His artistic career began as a young artist struggling in Thunder Bay, Ontario. When times were tough, he might sell one to get grocery money. He also often gave paintings to people who had helped him out in some way, so many of his paintings are in unknown and undocumented locations. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“We thought if we followed the art fraud case maybe we’d solve the murder,” said Rybak as they both appeared to be pointing toward the same suspects. The investigation expanded rapidly, soon involving both provincial and national law enforcement personnel. The task force was so unused to art fraud cases that they asked Ronny Walker, an FBI agent from Los Angeles specializing in art crime, to assist. While the murder was not solved, eventually three separate rings of counterfeiters were convicted or pled guilty to charges of forgery, using forged documents and defrauding the public. The leaders of the three groups were sentenced to up to five years in prison for their crimes, the last in 2025.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Indigenous Artists and Cultures at Risk&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Art fraud is not merely a financial crime. Counterfeiting and other forms of fraudulent Native art cannot replicate the relationship between artist and community history and culture. For Indigenous artists, fraud undercuts their traditions and community cohesion. For some Indigenous artists, the creation of an object breathes life into that object and may carry that of its creator within it. Also, Indigenous objects often hold religious or cultural significance that should not be replicated or used by non-Native peoples without permission or out of context.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Massive as the Morrisseau case is, this is just one example of fraud that is prevalent in the Indigenous art world. Janet Berlo, professor emerita of art history at the University of Rochester, wrote in her book “Not Native Art,” that fraud is driven by “the limitless hunger that . . .  Euro-Americans have for romantic and noble narratives about Indigenous peoples.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;That hunger coupled with a demand for lower-priced collectible items has tempted some unscrupulous people to copy or misrepresent Native art and crafts for centuries. Even George Catlin, the 19th-century American artist who travelled the Plains, was not above embellishing some of his drawings or putting together Native artifacts drawn from disparate sources, wrote Berlo.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;All kinds of ancient and contemporary crafts have been copied to sell to tourists and collectors—Mimbres pots, 19th-century ledger drawings, Navajo rugs, Eskimo ivory carvings, and pottery like imitation Zuni ceremonial vessels. People who misidentify themselves as members of an Indigenous tribe or First Nation are also committing fraud. Some products labeled “Native-inspired” are not Native made and can be misleading to customers.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The cases are numerous. In 2021, a non-Native Alaska gallery owner in Juneau pleaded guilty to misrepresenting himself as a Tlingit stone carver and selling fraudulent stone carvings made in the Philippines. The defendant’s remaining stock of 1,296 stone carvings could have netted more than $1.5 million had they been sold, reported the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in a press release. In March 2023, Jerry Chris Van Dyke of Seattle  pleaded guilty in U.S. District Court to violating the Indian Arts and Crafts Act by falsely claiming Native Nez Perce heritage and selling pendants based on Aleut imagery. The presiding judge pointed out that Van Dyke spent 10 years “undermining a community and [an] identity.”  In April 2025, the last of seven co-conspirators was sentenced in another Alaska case for importing items from the Philippines to be sold as authentic Alaska Native stone carvings or wooden totem poles.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The late Hopi artist Charles Loloma, whose jewelry was duplicated and sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars, was also a victim.“His technique was appropriated and [this] denigrated the value of his real works,” said Jamie Schulze (Northern Cheyenne), the executive director of the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts (SWAIA). The counterfeiter was caught and convicted in January 2025 under the Indian Arts and Crafts Act. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Exploitation of Indigenous arts is happening around the world. A couple in Melbourne, Australia, were jailed after they passed off their own work as paintings by renowned Aboriginal artist Rover Thomas. Collectors around the world have sought his work, and his pieces hang in the National Museum of Australia. A gallery owner modified paintings by another Aboriginal artist, Clifford Possum Tjapaltjarri, and sold them as his own. Both Thomas and Tjapaltjarri both drew on their own spiritual dreaming traditions and landscapes in remote parts of Australia and their styles were distinct.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Yet another way to fool buyers is to use authentic pieces that are then refashioned to make a piece appear older than it is, such as pots reassembled from fragments then repainted or restored. “Some jewelry may appear at first like the work of Native Americans but a closer look at materials and workmanship reveals differences,” said Dorene Red Cloud (Oglala Lakota), curator of Native American Art at the Eiteljorg Museum in Indianapolis. “Beads may appear a little off because they’re made of plastic or plated metal or aren’t in any true tribal colors or patterns. Totem poles and Inuit carvings have also been made in southeast Asian sweatshops.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Additionally, the uninformed buyer may not know that Indigenous-made pieces are often created by more than one individual. Technique, materials, design and imagery are deeply influenced by Native history and culture. In that sense, the artists never work alone. Someone without that cultural immersion, who sees art as a mere commodity, would lack the nuance to create such an authentic piece. A well-known artist may also have apprentices who helps him or her create portions of a piece while the master finishes the details, a practice adapted from European artists.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The scale of the problem has been hard to quantify. A 2011 report from the U.S. Government Accountability Office said, “The actual size of the Indian arts and crafts market, and extent of misrepresentation that is occurring, are unknown, because existing estimates are outdated, limited in scope or anecdotal and no national sources contain the data necessary to make reliable estimates.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Organized criminal groups based in China, India, Pakistan, Indonesia and the Philippines among others can produce and sell near look-alike jewelry, sculpture or beadwork far more cheaply than authentic Indigenous artists, said Walter Lamar (Blackfeet Nation of Montana), a former FBI agent and now chairman of the Indian Arts and Crafts Board. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; “When Congress first passed the Indian Arts and Crafts Act in 1935, its intent was clear: to protect the integrity and authenticity of American Indian&lt;br /&gt;
-made arts and crafts,” Lamar said. “At its heart, the Act was and still is about truth in advertising. It makes it illegal to market something as American Indian-made when it is not.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Act was significantly updated in 1990 with more stringent penalties added again in 2010 to allow any federal agency to initiate an investigation. Suspected violations can be reported to the board, with follow-up investigation by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. With sufficient evidence, the service can refer a case to the U.S. attorney’s office for prosecution. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Blurred Lines&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Today, protecting artists from fraud is further complicated by the fact that anything can be viewed and is vulnerable to being copied once online.  “There’s a line between inspiration and forgery,” said painter Brent Learned (Cheyenne/Arapaho). “Art is to inspire people, and every artist gets inspiration from somebody else when they’re starting. The only new thing is how you tell the story.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“The big problem now is social media,” added Canadian beadworker Naomi Smith (Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation). “Young artists may post their latest work on Instagram or TikTok to showcase their work. That may lead to future sales, but it also allows others to copy and undercut the price of the original works,” she said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Members of Indigenous art communities are tackling the problem in different ways, said artist and former Director of SWAIA Dallin Maybee (Northern Arapaho/Seneca). “We have the Indian Arts and Crafts Act in the United States, but there has been a lack of funds for investigation and enforcement,” he said. “To a savvy fraudster, any fine they pay would just be considered another cost of doing business.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Organizations like the SWAIA also play a role in keeping the market as honest as possible. “The role of SWAIA is to bring Native art to the world by helping Native artists make a living off their own work,” said Schulze. “Making art keeps their stories alive and continues their culture.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The application process for the SWAIA show in Santa Fe each summer calls for evidence of federal or state tribal recognition for each artist’s Native status to reduce the chances of personal misrepresentation and to reassure purchasers. “Meeting artists in person also allows them to tell the stories behind their works,” Schulze said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Every December, the National Museum of the American Indian also hosts a Native Art Market that features the works of Indigenous artists from across the Western Hemisphere. In 2025, thousands of buyers attended the market held in the museum’s rotunda in Washington, D.C. Visitors not only saw the original artworks for sale but had the opportunity to talk with their creators about their techniques and their peoples’ stories, which are often woven into their works whether jewelry, pottery, leather work, basketry, beadwork, sculpture, paintings or hand-woven textiles. Such markets offer buyers interactions with authentic Indigenous artists that add immeasurable value to the work that cannot be replicated through online purchases.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Native people have pride in their work,” said Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick, who works in ivory, stone and bone and was a featured artist at the 2025 NMAI Native Art Market. He believes his training with five tribal elders (including two uncles) leaves him less vulnerable to copycats. “They drilled in me what to do and how to do it,” he said. “I try to protect my Native heritage.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Having Indigenous experts available to evaluate items for sale might help, said Maybee. “I’d like to see more experienced art appraisers who are Native, but not enough are certified,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Another way to fight fraud is for dealers and buyers to establish provenance, the records of purchase or gifts, ensuring that every transfer of an object leads verifiably back to the artist. Yet, Berlo said, “provenance is hard to do. People are more secretive with Native American art.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2005, two years before he died, Morrisseau authorized a complete catalogue of the first 30 years of his career, said art historian Robertson. The scholars who finally began work on the project in 2018 did not set out to authenticate each work but relied on a painting’s provenance trail leading to Morrisseau himself. Robertson prefers using the terms “secure” (based on provenance) versus “unsecured” for paintings without a paper trail. “But the catalog still includes some questionable pieces to avoid litigation,” said Robertson. “It was better to include a piece and leave it to the future to make a conclusion.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Pieces imported from other countries just to make a buck are problematic,” said Smith. “But if two Indigenous artists compete, we can handle that. At least we know that young people are picking up the needle.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Imitation or Art?&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;With the introduction of computer programs that can replicate or simulate original art, the landscape of fraud is ever broader. Three-dimensional printing can reproduce any object, from pots to elaborate masks, that are indistinguishable from the original. In some cases this has helped restore lost techniques or items to communities for ceremonial purposes (such as the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History “cultural restoring” a Tlingit hat featured in the American Indian magazine article “Restoring Balance”). Yet such instances where technologies have been used for the benefit of Indigenous communities have been few. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A partnership between the Norval Morrisseau Estate in British Columbia and the Acrylic Robotics company in Montreal is taking this to a new level. The estate developed Norval A.I., an artificial intelligence system to confront decades of fraud with science.  Following the development of Norval A.I., it partnered with Acrylic Robotics, whose advanced robotic and imaging technologies were already being used to analyze paintings and produce -precise painted outputs using a robotic arm.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This system allowed the estate to test and refine the system against higher-quality, legitimate replicas, which strengthened its accuracy and reliability. “What emerged was a rare exchange where better replicas made better authentication tools, and better tools made better replicas,” said Cory Dingle, CEO of the estate. “This wasn’t about making copies. It was about raising the standard of truth.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“The system can not only help verify authenticity but can create new works by contemporary artists,” said Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics. They can create original art on an electronic tablet connected to a robotic arm, which directs paint to paper or canvas to produce a limited run of copies, just as printmakers have done over centuries.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This partnership was a technological collaboration that allowed both teams to share data, methodologies and results, said Dingle. Through this exchange, Norval A.I. was able to analyze higher-fidelity, good-faith replicas produced using Acrylic Robotics’ technology—works that surpassed the quality of the forgeries that had flooded the market for decades. They are hoping their efforts will aid other Indigenous artists.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; “Native art is not just beautiful, it’s an expression of identity, sovereignty and tradition. When counterfeit and misrepresented goods flood the market, they don’t just steal dollars, they steal stories, heritage and trust,” Lamar said. “For Native artists, the stakes are high. Art sales are a primary source of income for many. For consumers, authenticity matters, they deserve to know that what they’re buying supports real Native artisans, not factories overseas. And for tribal communities, this is about more than art—it is about jobs, cultural continuity and economic sustainability. The Native arts economy represents hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Every fake on the market is money taken away from our communities.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In addition to educating buyers, the recent successful prosecutions of cases in Canada and the United States are a start. “It’s important that federal law recognizes Native craftsmanship and that art can be both a career and a means of keeping culture alive,” said Schulze. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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Aaron Levin
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&lt;p&gt;Aaron Levin is a freelance journalist based in Baltimore, Maryland.&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Sun, 21 Dec 2025 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ColavecchioS</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1153 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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  <title>Windows Into Native Worlds: A New Exhibition Offers Candid Glimpses Into Indigenous Lives</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/NMAI-photo-archives-exhibition</link>
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      &lt;span&gt;Windows Into Native Worlds: A New Exhibition Offers Candid Glimpses Into Indigenous Lives&lt;/span&gt;

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Summer 2025
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Vol. 26 No. 2
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Arwen Nuttall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In many homes today can be found an archive—a compilation of scrapbooks full of  photographs lovingly assembled, caches of cell phone images and boxes of letters, files of other family documents. These preserve memories, connect our present to our past and help tell our stories. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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&lt;div id="slick-node-1132-story-slideshow-images-default-18" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1132-story-slideshow-images-default-18-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/EX01--STRAIGHT-SCAN-gallery.jpg?itok=8pYAvhCm" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"826","rel":"slick-node-1132-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/EX01--STRAIGHT-SCAN-gallery.jpg?itok=MYT5TB7F" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/EX01--STRAIGHT-SCAN-gallery.jpg?itok=MYT5TB7F" alt="Man with pompadour and grey jacket sitting on porch playing an acoustic guitar" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="726" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The granddaughter of Innu musician Thommy Mestokosho discovered this image of him playing a guitar in Québec, Canada, in a NMAI blog post. She provided the museum’s archives with his Innu name, Nimushuminan Tame, as well as details about his life.

Thommy Mestokosho, 1959; Photo by William Stiles, William F. Stiles collection of photographs and films. S02178&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The granddaughter of Innu musician Thommy Mestokosho discovered this image of him playing a guitar in Québec, Canada, in a NMAI blog post. She provided the museum’s archives with his Innu name, Nimushuminan Tame, as well as details about his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Thommy Mestokosho, 1959; Photo by William Stiles, William F. Stiles collection of photographs and films. S02178&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/EX15_EM-gallery.jpg?itok=SGBvyf_t" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"966","rel":"slick-node-1132-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/EX15_EM-gallery.jpg?itok=lHythuO_" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/EX15_EM-gallery.jpg?itok=lHythuO_" alt="A black and white image of a 10-year-old girl in a dress sticking her tongue out." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="621" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This photograph originally was labeled just “Woman in costume.” Through archival and genealogical research, archivists identified her as a 10-year-old girl named Sarah Grandmother’s Knife. She was born in 1900 on the Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation in Montana. Here, she is wearing an elk-tooth dress and sticking her tongue out playfully toward the camera.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sarah Grandmother’s Knife, Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation, Montana, 1910; Fred Meyer photograph collection. N22034&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This photograph originally was labeled just “Woman in costume.” Through archival and genealogical research, archivists identified her as a 10-year-old girl named Sarah Grandmother’s Knife. She was born in 1900 on the Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation in Montana. Here, she is wearing an elk-tooth dress and sticking her tongue out playfully toward the camera.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sarah Grandmother’s Knife, Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation, Montana, 1910; Fred Meyer photograph collection. N22034&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The National Museum of the American Indian has one of the most comprehensive archives of documents and images depicting Indigenous lives across the Western Hemisphere. Its Archives Center serves as the steward of manuscripts, correspondence and other paper records as well as thousands of sound and audiovisual recordings dating from the late-19th century to the present.  Yet the most prominent part of this collection is its more than 500,000 photographs. These images—which range from the first daguerreotypes created in the 1840s to digital photos—document Indigenous arts, politics, community knowledge, social and political movements and, just as importantly, views of everyday Native life.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At the NMAI in Washington, D.C., visitors are being offered a glimpse into these lives through  “InSight: Photos and Stories from the Archives,” the first exhibition of photographs from the museum’s archives in more than 20 years. This selection of historical and contemporary images combined with stories from family members, Indigenous photographers and the museum’s archivists reveal rich details about the featured individuals and families. “We wanted to show something different than the stereotyped image of Native peoples that was always represented in earlier museums,” explained NMAI archivist Nathan Sowry.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In one 1918 image, for example, a young Chickahominy girl proudly shows off her doll. In a 1951 color photograph, two Iñupiaq women pick flowers on a summer day in Alaska. These scenes could be from any home today. “We wanted to find photos that were relatable,” said NMAI’s Head Archivist Emily Moazami. “We wanted visitors to be able to see themselves in the photos.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Widening the Lens&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;George Gustav Heye, who founded the NMAI’s predecessor, the Museum of the American Indian–Heye Foundation in New York, began assembling  the archive in 1922 as part of his endeavor to amass a comprehensive collection of Indigenous material culture that represented the entire Western Hemisphere. Heye recognized photography as a powerful medium for documenting his growing object collection and the breadth—but not necessarily the depth—of Indigenous peoples and cultures. Photos served as a record of items in the collection and how they were created or used. Who the individuals were, however, was less important to Heye and those who acquired images and other items for him. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At the heart of the Archives Center’s work today is its partnership with Native peoples, in part to fill in this often missing but vital information. “Telling these stories is a collaboration between the archivist and Native peoples, their families and their communities,” Sowry emphasized. Native people consult with the archivists to document the collections from an Indigenous perspective. They donate materials, correct inaccuracies and share personal histories and community knowledge. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“It’s really about listening,” said NMAI archivist Rachel Menyuk. “When an Indigenous community member comes in, it’s about putting aside this idea that we’re the experts and instead sitting with them and listening to what they have to say.”  This creates a deeper understanding of the historical and contemporary lives of Native peoples and, according to Sowry, “helps us tell better stories.”  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As part of their work in the archives and on the exhibition, Menyuk, Moazami and Sowry have strived to expand Heye’s perspective and humanize the Native people in the photography collections.  The Archives Center houses photographs of important tribal leaders and events but, according to Moazami, the real finds in the collection are the photos by amateur photographers such as missionaries, teachers, anthropologists and collectors. These individuals were often immersed in Native communities. As a result, their photos “tend to show more candid imagery, daily life and a wider swath of people,” she said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Reuniting Relatives&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Archives Center makes images and documents accessible through a variety of avenues, from blog posts and exhibitions to searchable databases. Native families and communities who can identify people, places or items in the images can then add personal, family and community knowledge to the archival record, which is then preserved for future generations.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For instance, one photo in the exhibition shows Innu musician Thommy Mestokosho holding a guitar and sporting a sleek pompadour, looking like a 1950s rock n’ roll star. The photo was taken in 1959 by William F. Stiles, a former curator of collections for the museum who spent time among the Innu people in Québec, Canada. Stiles corresponded with Mestokosho from 1964 to 1968. The letters, which are housed in the Archives Center, reveal a personal relationship between the two men. Mestokosho frequently asked Stiles to send him guitar strings, because the shops near his village of Ekuanitshit (Mingan) didn’t sell them.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Nearly 60 years later, Lydia Mestokosho-Paradis came across the photo of Thommy Mestokosho, her grandfather, in a NMAI blog.  She noticed his name was misspelled and reached out to the Archives Center staff, who corrected the error in the files. The archivists also sent her copies of the image and letters Thommy wrote. Lydia then shared details about his childhood, his love of music and the playful relationship he had with her grandmother. She thanked the NMAI for preserving Thommy’s letters and his photo. “We are grateful to know that the [museum] was able to keep these precious exchanges demonstrating the life of the 1950s to 1960s of Ekuanitshit. We have a wonderful oral tradition, but having pictures to complement these stories makes it even more wonderful.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This chance encounter with a photo is just one example of the reciprocal exchanges between the Archives Center and Indigenous peoples. “One of the most rewarding parts of our jobs is when we interact with somebody who discovers a photograph of their relative,” Moazami said. “It’s an honor for us to be able to be a part of that journey for them to be reunited.”   &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Restoring Identities&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the most arresting images in the exhibition is a black-and-white photo taken in 1910 of a young Apsáalooke (Crow) girl sticking her tongue out toward the camera. The photo was originally labeled only with the words “Woman in costume.” The archivists were drawn to the image, but not until Menyuk made an accidental discovery in the Archives Center’s cold storage did they start to unravel the mystery of this young woman’s identity. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Sorting through images, Menyuk found an old envelope. Written on the front was the name “Sarah Grandmother’s Knife,” and inside was the original negative. From there, the archivists went down a rabbit hole of genealogical research. They learned that this “woman” was in fact a 10-year-old girl. They traced her life from her childhood on the Apsáalooke reservation in Montana to her marriage to John Gros Ventre and later Harry Don’t Mix (together with whom she had eight children)  and finally to her passing from cancer in 1957.  The archivists hope that restoring Grandmother’s Knife’s name and family ties will help her descendants find her and add to her story. “Archives are dynamic,” Menyuk said. “They provide a place to find new stories and see new perspectives.”   &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The stories in this exhibition represent just some of the ways the Archives Center elevates Indigenous perspectives and voices within the photography collections. The NMAI keeps the stories of Native people safe through not only preservation but also accurate documentation. It increases the public’s understanding of Indigenous experiences and helps Native families and communities reconnect with material that documents their heritage. They can then share these materials, add their own knowledge or take knowledge back to their communities. The photo collections have been used to research and revitalize ceremonies, artistic techniques, traditional food production and other lifeways that have changed or faded over time.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This ongoing exchange between the Archives Center and Native peoples centers the archives as a transformative space where Indigenous stories are found, written and rewritten, and shared across locations and generations. Photo historian and the NMAI’s Acting Associate Director of Scholarship Michelle Delaney said, “There are so many hidden gems within the collections. We’re only at the tip of the iceberg when it comes to researching the stories in the archives.” History is made up of more than just big, impactful events. “It’s the everyday moments,” reflected Delaney, “the daily work, the daily joy, and the trials and hardships that give a fuller picture of our past.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;InSight: Photos and Stories from the Archives&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Archives Center at the National Museum of the American Indian stewards more than half a million photographs. The center works to reconnect Indigenous communities with photographs, papers, and audiovisual recordings that document their heritage. Through research and open dialogue with the archivists, Native people share community knowledge and reunite faces with names and family histories. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Archival images give an intimate view of Indigenous lives across the Western Hemisphere and across time. They show not only leaders and important events but also everyday moments of joy and quiet reflection. In them, people attend social gatherings, pose for family photos, and learn from relatives. Each photo has a story to tell. It’s the rich insight shared by Native people that brings these stories to life.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The following is adapted from the “InSight” exhibition on display at the museum in Washington, D.C.&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Made for Sharing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The invention of photography created a new way to record events, people, and places and share experiences. Looking at photographs leads to reminiscing, talking and enjoying memories together. When photographs are preserved and made accessible in an archive, they have the power to be shared across generations. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Archives Center stewards photographic formats dating from the 1839 invention of photography to today. As technology improved, formats changed and access to photography equipment became widely available.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A timeline showing examples of the development of photographic processes from 1839 through present day." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="2e2d13d0-ab26-4a64-8549-0bfa73ddd218" height="739" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Archives-AI-Summer25-timeline-4.jpg" width="786" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Behind the Image&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some photos in the Archives Center are attached to other materials—such as letters or interviews—that enrich their stories. Just a name, location or generic description help identify individuals. Photos with little or no documentation provide only glimpses into the stories behind the images. A sewing circle implies a communal bond shared by women from different Apache communities. A moment between a grandmother and her granddaughter suggests knowledge and skills passing from one generation to another. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The archivists continually work with Native families and communities to add information to the photo collections. It takes time, relationship building and collaboration to tell the real story behind an image. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Grandmother and child working with a large mortar and pestle." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="f56105e5-5b77-482f-9ef5-c1b0fe59ec3f" height="501" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX02_001.038_neg_000_N14452-gallery.jpg" width="389" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Many photos in the archives document objects that are in the NMAI’s collection, such as this mortar and pestle. Here, Clara Schuyler watches her grandmother Julia Pahbahmowatong (Ojibwe) prepare food using the mortar and pestle. Sitting on the ground behind Clara is a container made from birchbark and spruce root that is also part of the museum’s collection.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Julia Pahbahmowatong (Ojibwe) and Clara Schuyler, Wasauksing Reserve (Parry Island Reserve), Ontario, Canada, 1928; Frederick Johnson photograph collection. N14452&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Person using knife to split roots wearing demin shorts and flannel shirt." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="00ff7ad6-697f-47dc-b37f-169f00845c88" height="354" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX06_347_002_000_P26079-gallery.jpg" width="498" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Danny Caplin (Mi’kmaq) splits roots at a traditional birchbark canoe-building workshop hosted by the Ugpi’ganjig (Eel River Bar) Mi’kmaq community. The 16-foot canoe was donated to the NMAI in 1997.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Danny Caplin (Mi’kmaq), Eel River Bar First Nation, New Brunswick, Canada, 1995; Eel River Bar First Nation birchbark canoe photograph and media collection. P26079&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Group of children smiling and gathered in an embrace" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="be6c8e7e-46ea-4e0f-aba1-7fbebe052c0e" height="654" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX04_001.032_neg_000_N01305_emily-gallery.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Anthropologist and professor Frank Gouldsmith Speck captured this candid photo of a group of Nanticoke school boys playing “bear in ring” during one of his collecting expeditions for the Museum of the American Indian–Heye Foundation. The boy in the center wearing the striped jacket is Roosevelt Perkins.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;A group of Naticoke boys. Cheswold, Delaware, 1911–1914; Frank Gouldsmith Speck photograph collection. N01305&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Reunion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Family portraits are among the thousands of photographs within the Archives Center. Indigenous visitors to the center will sometimes encounter a relative’s image they’ve never seen before. They’ll notice family resemblances, such as the shape of a nose or curl of a smile. When families connect with these images, they often share personal, family, and community knowledge. These stories become part of the archives and are preserved in the image record for future generations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A colorized image of a mother posing with her young children." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="c2066973-6764-49f9-ba2f-8df20147d055" height="450" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX08_003_LNT_000_L02288_High-gallery.jpg" width="506" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;This photo of a Yup’ik mother with her children was taken by Leuman Waugh, a dentist and photography enthusiast, during one of his research expeditions to study&lt;br /&gt;
the dental health of Indigenous communities in Arctic Alaska.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;A Yup’ik mother and her two young children in Alaska, 1935–1936. Leuman Maurice Waugh collection, L02288&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Two women smile together." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="c06eb288-0c1a-41be-aeb5-6df4a0503f33" height="312" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX09_085_pht_166_009_High_emily-gallery.jpg" width="503" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Sisters Grace and Gail Thorpe (Sac and Fox) were the children of famed athlete Jim Thorpe (Sac and Fox), who, in 1912, was the first Native American to win an Olympic gold medal for the United States.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Grace and Gail Thorpe (Sac and Fox), location unknown, circa 1998.&lt;br /&gt;
Grace Thorpe collection, 085_pht_166_009&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A family of 6 poses for a photograph in front of a tall wooden ladder" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="48eb7af8-05fa-45a2-b8f3-7ee392ecdd8f" height="502" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX21_440_001_15_005-gallery.jpg" width="502" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Coming from a long line of Indigenous artists, generations of the Garcia family have visited the NMAI’s collections and archives over the years. Potter Gloria Garcia (K’apovi [Santa Clara Pueblo]/Pojoaque Pueblo) and artist John D. Garcia (K’apovi [Santa Clara Pueblo]) stand with their young sons, Jason Garcia (Okuu Pin) and John David Garcia Jr. At left are Gloria’s sister Lois Gutierrez and brother-in-law Derek de la Cruz. &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;K’apovi (Santa Clara Pueblo), New Mexico, 1975&lt;br /&gt;
Peter Dechert photographs of Pueblo artists, 440_001_15_00&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joyful Moments&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The photographs in the Archives Center tell stories that extend beyond both serious historical events and the borders of the continental United States. From across North, Central and South America as well as the Caribbean, lively images preserve everyday moments of joy, play and friendship. They also show the landscapes and cultures in which Indigenous people grow up.&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img alt="A group of four boys in parkas and gloves lay on a snowbank." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="dc1a7af6-2d24-4981-b0ef-5a36812c50dd" height="334" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX17_EM_EDITS-gallery.jpg" width="499" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;The frigid temperatures of the Canadian Arctic did not stop these Baffin Island Inuit boys from enjoying their snowy surroundings.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Four boys (Baffin Island Inuit), Padloping Island, Canada, 1950.&lt;br /&gt;
Warren Buxton photograph collection, S04853&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A smiling young girl holds a doll." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="6684a568-1de7-4650-87a5-3f33711ee25f" height="505" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX12_001.032_neg_000_N12619-gallery.jpg" width="390" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;This smiling young Chickahominy girl dressed in a formal fur hat and coat proudly holds up her porcelain doll.&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Chickahominy girl, Virginia, 1918.&lt;br /&gt;
Frank Gouldsmith Speck photograph collection, N12619&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Power of Portraits&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For Native Americans, the power of who to photograph and how once lay with outsiders. During the 19th century, anthropologists, missionaries and government agents were the ones frequently behind the camera. As technology advanced and cameras became widely available, more and more Indigenous people began photographing their families, neighbors and communities. This self-representation and the choice to share such photographs with others—whether through an archive, social media or professional photography exhibition—are powerful forms of self-determination.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A man sits in the driver seat of a 1930s-era automobile." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="d60e3a54-640a-4346-baa5-f4194dc847cb" height="369" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX19_223_neg_000_N47821-gallery.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;This photo of a Taos Pueblo man sitting in his car with a traditional adobe home in the background captures how the Taos people blended modern conveniences into their culture during the early 20th century. &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Taos Pueblo man, Taos, New Mexico, circa 1936–1941; Herbert U. Silleck photographs. N47821&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A woman in a long dress sits on the floor and braids her hair." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="755f1368-fe4a-4c85-85d2-eb0f0797f3b5" height="524" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX18_108_neg_000_N13736-gallery.jpg" width="390" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Fred E. Miller took this intimate photo of Points The Gun braiding her hair during his time on the Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation as a civil service clerk for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He advocated for the rights of the Crow people and was formally adopted into the Crow Nation. He took candid, informal portraits of the community and documented the names and stories of the people during the tribe’s difficult transition to reservation life. &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Points The Gun (Apsáalooke [Crow]), Apsáalooke (Crow) Reservation, Montana, circa 1898–1912; Fred E. Miller photograph collection. N13736&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="A woman in dark sunglasses sits in a rocking chair surrounded by family photographs." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="bb09e470-ecb1-4f19-94a2-a863df672e50" height="498" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/EX16_056_001_000_P28507-gallery.jpg" width="501" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Ho-Chunk photographer Tom Jones has dedicated himself to documenting the beauty and resilience of the Ho-Chunk people. Jones took a picture of Nina Cleveland when she stopped by while he was photographing his father. When he went to drop off the photo, he was struck by what he saw. “When I walked into her house to drop it off and saw all those pictures of her family leaned up on the television, I asked her if I could take another photograph of her. I always want to show a sense of family and community,” said Jones. &lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;Nina Cleveland (Ho-Chunk) at home in front of her family photographs, Ho-Chunk Nation of Wisconsin, 1999.&lt;br /&gt;
From “The Ho-Chunk People” series by Tom Jones (Ho-Chunk, b. 1964); Tom Jones photograph collection. P28507 &lt;/h6&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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Arwen Nuttall
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&lt;p&gt;Arwen Nuttall is a senior editor and writer at the National Museum of the American Indian.&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Wed, 06 Aug 2025 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ArtmanM</dc:creator>
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  <title>Weaving Legacies: Chachi Artisans Look to the NMAI Collection to Revitalize their Ancestral Techniques</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/chachi-weavers</link>
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      &lt;span&gt;Weaving Legacies: Chachi Artisans Look to the NMAI Collection to Revitalize their Ancestral Techniques&lt;/span&gt;

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Summer 2025
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Vol. 26 No. 2
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          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Jonathan Franklin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;After a 10-hour bus journey from Ecuador’s capital city of Quito in the Andes Mountains, Sammia Quisintuña Chango packed her gear into a motorized canoe for the final 4-hour leg of her journey. She was just south of the Colombia border and eager to keep moving toward her final destination, the Chachi village of Loma Linda.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-1-08-50%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=tQw8vpZq" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"660","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-1-08-50%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=FIHxFp7O" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-1-08-50%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=FIHxFp7O" alt="Woman standing in river alongside a series of canoes." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="418" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sammia Quisintuña Chango wades ashore in northern Ecuador on the way to the Chachi community of Loma Linda. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sammia Quisintuña Chango wades ashore in northern Ecuador on the way to the Chachi community of Loma Linda. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/map-working-rev-gallery.jpg?itok=os3PKuYw" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":849,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/map-working-rev-gallery.jpg?itok=xg78EaTM" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/map-working-rev-gallery.jpg?itok=xg78EaTM" alt="Illustrated map of Ecuador showing a travel route from Quito to Loma Linda by bus and canoe." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="327" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sammia Quisintuña Chango traveled many miles by bus from Ecuador’s capital of Quito to reach Borbón, from which she would travel another four hours by canoe to reach the rainforest community of
Loma Linda. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Map Source Courtesy of Loma Linda Community &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sammia Quisintuña Chango traveled many miles by bus from Ecuador’s capital of Quito to reach Borbón, from which she would travel another four hours by canoe to reach the rainforest community of&lt;br /&gt;
Loma Linda. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Map Source Courtesy of Loma Linda Community &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-13-11%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=-1TKzMrM" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"940","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-13-11%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=lazraY3O" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-13-11%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=lazraY3O" alt="Group of weavers sitting on floor with woven baskets." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="638" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Such carefully designed baskets were once for everyday use, but these artworks take much time and precious resources to create and so are less commonly seen today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Such carefully designed baskets were once for everyday use, but these artworks take much time and precious resources to create and so are less commonly seen today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-9-48-23%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=pYCP7uMl" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"877","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-9-48-23%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=FfYJZyWx" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-9-48-23%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=FfYJZyWx" alt="Two people use machetes to scrape bark from a felled tree in the rainforest." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="684" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Loma Linda former president and artisan Danner Añapa (&lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt;) and José Melchor (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) cut down a &lt;em&gt;Poulsenia armata&lt;/em&gt; tree to scrape off its bark, from which Añapa will make a type of sleeping mat called a “damagua.” The bark first needs to be soaked in the river water for three days to soften it and make it pliable.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Loma Linda former president and artisan Danner Añapa (&lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt;) and José Melchor (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) cut down a &lt;em&gt;Poulsenia armata&lt;/em&gt; tree to scrape off its bark, from which Añapa will make a type of sleeping mat called a “damagua.” The bark first needs to be soaked in the river water for three days to soften it and make it pliable.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-10-52-21%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=wxoTYN-u" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"961","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-10-52-21%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=lS9hFKHi" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-10-52-21%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=lS9hFKHi" alt="Person sits on bench scraping a roll of tree bark." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="624" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Danner Añapa holds a damagua he created. Due to the preference for modern mattresses and the intense labor involved, the art of creating these mats is in danger of disappearing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Danner Añapa holds a damagua he created. Due to the preference for modern mattresses and the intense labor involved, the art of creating these mats is in danger of disappearing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-23-04%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=P160lgl6" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-23-04%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=k27nPDUz" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-28-4-24%2C-11-23-04%E2%80%AFa.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=k27nPDUz" alt="Two weavers pass yarn through a standing loom" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Margarita Acero (&lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt;) passes some yarn to María Añapa (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) while they work together on a standing loom making a “chumbi,” a traditional belt or sash.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Margarita Acero (&lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt;) passes some yarn to María Añapa (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) while they work together on a standing loom making a “chumbi,” a traditional belt or sash.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-3-08-18-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=60aPUuWP" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"966","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-3-08-18-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=_xt-MHvM" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-3-08-18-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=_xt-MHvM" alt="Weaver displays woven belts depicting flora and fauna." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="621" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These chumbi often depict local plants and animals such as monkeys and butterflies. These may be used in ceremonial settings such as weddings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These chumbi often depict local plants and animals such as monkeys and butterflies. These may be used in ceremonial settings such as weddings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-2-28-17%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=FRfpt9IE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"734","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-2-28-17%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=nZ6oKmRf" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-2-28-17%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=nZ6oKmRf" alt="Person uses a machete to cut palm fronds from tree in dense forest." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="465" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chachi weaver Maria Añapa cuts down a palm frond from a rampira tree.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chachi weaver Maria Añapa cuts down a palm frond from a rampira tree.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-3-20-46%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=xoGrmJd_" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1020,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-3-20-46%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=g4853k77" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-27-4-24%2C-3-20-46%E2%80%AFp.%C2%A0m.-gallery.jpg?itok=g4853k77" alt="Weaver in blue dress sits on floor while weaving palms into a geometric pattern." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="392" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;With multicolored strips Maria Añapa has prepared by bleaching in the sun, she begins to weave them into a mat. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;With multicolored strips Maria Añapa has prepared by bleaching in the sun, she begins to weave them into a mat. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-4-32-13-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=gITtG9sk" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1071,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-4-32-13-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=eaKjBNpR" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/Foto-8-6-24%2C-4-32-13-p-m-gallery.jpg?itok=eaKjBNpR" alt="Weaver dressed in blue displays a finished mat." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="412" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These mats often have geometric patterns that might represent the river and depictions of animals such as monkeys or crabs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;These mats often have geometric patterns that might represent the river and depictions of animals such as monkeys or crabs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/IMG_3595-gallery.jpg?itok=fJFG1Ilv" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"935","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/IMG_3595-gallery.jpg?itok=J8Z6NOjK" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/IMG_3595-gallery.jpg?itok=J8Z6NOjK" alt="Community members gather in an open air field house to view presentation." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="642" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At an open-air field house in Loma Linda, Ecuador, Sammia Quisintuña Chango talks to community members about the NMAI and tells them that some of their ancestors’ items are housed there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At an open-air field house in Loma Linda, Ecuador, Sammia Quisintuña Chango talks to community members about the NMAI and tells them that some of their ancestors’ items are housed there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Christian Pillalaza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--11 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_029-gallery.jpg?itok=p0-gmpCE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"813","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_029-gallery.jpg?itok=BT9cNzUx" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_029-gallery.jpg?itok=BT9cNzUx" alt="Museum workers display a colorful textile on a tabletop." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="738" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Using a camera and a live video feed, Chachi leaders and artisans viewed textiles and related items from their community that are housed at the NMAI Cultural Resources Center in Maryland. Community members could ask the camera operator to zoom in and to focus on details of these items while posing questions to the staff.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Using a camera and a live video feed, Chachi leaders and artisans viewed textiles and related items from their community that are housed at the NMAI Cultural Resources Center in Maryland. Community members could ask the camera operator to zoom in and to focus on details of these items while posing questions to the staff.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--12 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_015-gallery.jpg?itok=cOBiJNml" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"908","rel":"slick-node-1126-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_015-gallery.jpg?itok=cAljHhPT" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-08/20240718_01a_kjf_ps_015-gallery.jpg?itok=cAljHhPT" alt="Historical textiles and weaving tools arranged on a tabletop." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="661" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Staff at the Cultural Resources Center prepared the textiles and tools to be shown. These items are more than 100 years old and ranged from cotton and a tripod tool on which to wrap it (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) to a complete mat (&lt;em&gt;center&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Staff at the Cultural Resources Center prepared the textiles and tools to be shown. These items are more than 100 years old and ranged from cotton and a tripod tool on which to wrap it (&lt;em&gt;left&lt;/em&gt;) to a complete mat (&lt;em&gt;center&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Quisintuña Chango, who is of Kichwa Chibuleo and Salasaka heritage, was at the time working for the National Museum of the American Indian remotely from Chiapas, Mexico. She had been collaborating with the collection staff at the museum’s Cultural Resources Center in Maryland while also completing her anthropology master’s degree at the Center for Research and Advanced Studies in Social Anthropology. From a long line of textile weavers herself, Quisintuña Chango proposed reaching out to weavers at Loma Linda to inform them that items of their ancestors were residing in the museum’s collection and ask if they would like to view them—virtually. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;But to accomplish this feat, she had to first travel to this remote tropical rainforest community to brief them about the museum and tell them about the many items that had been separated from them for more than a century. This would involve somehow getting a thick stack of reports to the village and then enough electricity to connect its residents with the museum staff online nearly 3,000 miles away.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Quisintuña Chango was traveling to Loma Linda in late November 2022, departing by river from the town of Borbón at the junction of the Santiago and Cayapas Rivers. From this bustling port where supplies for communities are paddled, floated and motored up and down the river, she said she was glad to be on the move again as drug dealers are in the area and “like to have control of these waters.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The rains had been plentiful during the past few weeks, so the river was full and ran swiftly, erasing fears that she and the other passengers would be forced to climb out of the boat and pull it. Quisintuña Chango sat in the canoe as they chugged two hours before she had to switch canoes and continue for another two hours. Then her work truly began.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Connecting with Remote Communities&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;George Heye founded the NMAI’s predecessor, the Museum of the American Indian–Heye Foundation in New York during the early 20th century. He sponsored many expeditions to fill his expansive collection of Indigenous items. During one such trip from 1908 to 1909, ethnologist Samuel Barrett collected textiles, weaving tools and other delicate materials such as cotton from Loma Linda and the surrounding Chachi communities. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Cultural Resources Center was built in Maryland to house the nearly 1 million items and photographs as well as some 500,000 digital images and films of Indigenous communities across the Western Hemisphere in the NMAI’s collection, including these from the Chachi peoples. Opening in 1999, it was designed to provide Indigenous communities information about their cultural items in the collection and welcome the members of these communities who are able to visit. In addition to seeing parts of the collection in the rows of climate-controlled and regularly cleaned shelving, visitors may request to take their peoples’ belongings to a dedicated viewing area to spend time alone with them and conduct related ceremonies. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The items in the collection are considered living and are treated respectfully according to each culture’s practices. For example, some items must only be viewed by women, others men, and still others by those who have a specific status in a community. By visiting their cultural belongings, people can infuse them with energy that they have not experienced for decades. From the Mapuche of Argentina and Chile to the Mi’kmaw people of Nova Scotia, these encounters between traditional communities and their items in the NMAI collection can be both initially painful and cathartic. “Some people who come in are first very upset because of what has been taken from them,” said Veronica Quiguango, the NMAI museum specialist of Kichwa heritage who managed Quisintuña Chango’s project. Yet, she said, “when they realize how we take care of the items and the way we respect their cultural belongings, then they understand and say thank you for taking such good care of what is now with us.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While dozens of representatives and members of Indigenous communities visit the Cultural Resources Center each year, many others do not have the ability to finance such a trip. For elders, health and mobility challenges may make face-to-face connections with their cultural history not possible. Those coming from other countries may have additional hurdles of international air travel and visa restrictions. “Many communities in Central and South America don’t even know that these items exist,” said Quiguango.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, travel froze and online video conference tools became more available. An idea at NMAI bloomed: staff could provide “virtual engagements,” during which Indigenous community members could examine their items in the collection they particularly wished to see through a live video feed. The response from communities has been great. Since 2020, the NMAI has conducted virtual consultations with dozens of Indigenous community members and representatives, and more sessions are being scheduled each year. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Threats to Chachi Culture&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Despite Loma Linda’s remote location, the Chachi people are not insulated from outside pressures that can impact their cultural survival. Drug traffickers smuggle cocaine across the nearby border with Colombia. Illegal mining operators dredge nearby river beds for gold, and the dam on the river for hydroelectric power has lowered its water supply, and during droughts, cannot even supply the community with sufficient electricity. Timber companies have taken much of their forests, which they depend upon to make their mats, baskets and other traditional items.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Still, the population of the Chachi people has doubled from 5,000 in 1907 to 10,200 in 2010, and it continues to expand, with 17,300 Chachi people noted in a 2022 census and U.S. researchers suggesting it could be as many as 23,000. This population increase has stressed the local food supply, however, and much of their food must be brought into the community. “Thirty years ago, the fish in the river and the fish in the rainforest were abundant,” said Danner Añapa, former president of Loma Linda. He said that many more people were living off the same forests and rivers, and “Now in the summer, [river] shrimp and other fish are only found in the deeper pools.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These issues add stress to those in the Loma Linda community fighting to preserve their Chachi culture from also drying up. Today, the Chachi peoples have limited time for traditional arts such as weaving, and the ceramics and metalworks of copper and gold that were widely practiced hundreds of years ago–and catapulted the Chachi culture to international fame–are rarely made now. Their main source of income is from another source. “We also have to spend a lot of time harvesting and drying cacao beans, where the money comes in quicker than with the weaving,” explained Danner Añapa. “The 30- and 40-year-olds think in a different way. They want to be professionals, to make money.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Yet, when Danner Añapa can, he builds traditional ceremonial drums and sleeping mats called  “damagua” from the native trees that surround his village. He said only three Chachi elders in Loma Linda still have the knowledge how to weave their traditional belts and sashes, or “chumbi,” which are intricately embroidered with images of local plants and animals. Once worn daily, now they are rarely seen. “We have lost the techniques to make certain items of clothing. Little by little we are losing it.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These traditional weaving techniques are a means to cultural preservation, but the monkeys, butterflies and jaguars depicted in these weavings and the trees needed to make damagua are also at risk as loggers take their forests. “Ten years ago, to find a damagua tree, you went to the forest and in 30 minutes you could find one,” said Quisintuña Chango. “Now we had to walk for three hours just to find one of these trees.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Learning Lessons from Ancestors&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;With the arrival of Quisintuña Chango, who is multilingual and also a weaver, a unique opportunity came for the NMAI to offer the Chachi weavers a way to see their ancestors’ textiles. By examining them closely and the related tools they used, the weavers could understand how they were made and such techniques could be then passed on to others in the community. The museum could also gain information about these items in its collection. “We wanted to make that connection,” said Quiguango. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, the toll from foreigners visiting or invading Chachi territories has been so severe that any outsiders are assumed to be miners or loggers. In 1908, when Barrett arrived in Chachi communities, the inhabitants suspected that he was just feigning to be a scientist and that he actually intended to pillage their lands.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After Quisintuña Chango’s arrival in Loma Linda, she spent months talking with the village leaders and observing the elders creating textiles. She said she was awed as she followed Maria Añapa—one of the “wise women” of Loma Linda who are culture keepers—into the forest surrounding the community. Añapa expertly wielded a machete as she sliced off a thick palm frond from a tree and then delicately peeled off its different layers. She deftly tied them in a bundle, slung it atop her shoulder before heading back through the lush forest to the village.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At Añapa’s home that has sides open to the rainforest, she sat on the wooden floor. Using techniques passed generation to generation, she began weaving the different dazzling geometric patterns. She had some other frond strands that had been bleached by the sun. Together, these processes produced a mosaic of colors—shades of green, brown and white—which Añapa then weaved into different sections that would eventually become a mat roughly 4 feet long and 3 feet wide. Such a piece could take her more than a month to create.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After many discussions with the leaders of Loma Linda, Quisintuña Chango was eventually authorized to speak to a group of community members . A date was set, but floods, droughts, electrical blackouts and political turbulence delayed their meeting. Not until December 2023 was Quisintuña Chango, who had begun working for NMAI as a contractor, finally able to return to Loma Linda with her laptop and a projector to brief the community at a meeting held at an open-air field house. As elders and young alike gathered to listen, she described the extensive collection of Chachi items at the NMAI. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;She returned in December 2024 to show community members two videos about the project, one made with the help of community member  Christian Pillalaza and another by NMAI about the museum and its Cultural Resources Center. She also showed them photos of the Chachi items in the collection. At the gathering, she invited community members to comment on these ancestral textiles and tools. Quisintuña Chango began to click through the items, photograph by photograph. She stopped frequently for impromptu discussions and passionate questions and waited while Danner Añapa translated from their Cha’palaa language to Spanish and then to English and back again. When images flashed on the screen or as they flipped through photographs of the NMAI collection, community members moved closer. “They began to bring objects from their home,” Quisintuña Chango said. “They would say ‘we have one of those’ and run to get it.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Of the many cultural belongings they viewed, a few in particular grabbed their attention. One was a tripod about 2 feet tall that was made of branches lashed together and crowned by a puffy ball of cotton. “What is this?” several Chachi women asked repeatedly. A member of the community answered that her grandmother had used such a tool to spin raw cotton into thread. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The museum also sent Quisintuña Chango 20 pounds of reports on the objects in the collection, from which community members chose which items they wanted to know more about. When the items they wished to see were selected so were six knowledge keepers of the community who would later participate in the virtual engagement sessions with the museum. This group of community artisans—two basket makers, two damagua makers and two chumbis makers—were the ones who would get to view the actual items prepared for them at the museum.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In July 2024, with the help of an electric generator, the group of six gathered before a computer screen to finally see the items of their ancestors. At the meeting with the NMAI staff, two translators (one who spoke Spanish and English and another who spoke Cha’palaa and Spanish) helped convey the information to the artisans. A video camera allowed the museum staff to zoom in closely on an object, revealing particular stitches or weaving techniques. Others asked the staff to rotate an object so they could see all sides of it, just as if they were there at the Cultural Resources Center themselves. They could ask the staff as many questions as they liked about the items over the course of two days of meetings.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Without this virtual engagement, I’m not sure if we’d ever be able to connect,” said Kelly McHugh, head of conservation at the NMAI. “Our role is changing. We do not just present things to the public. We are increasingly providing access to world communities in ways we could never imagine.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Planting Seeds of Knowledge &lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The ability to share cultural items decades old virtually with remote people such as the Chachi is a key tool in efforts to conserve traditional practices. As only a few Chachi elders are still practicing the art of weaving palm leaves into mats or baskets or local cotton into belts, many in the community fear that these skills will be forever lost. Without markets for the crafts or a younger generation willing and able to continue, such traditions may be swallowed up by modernity. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Danner Añapa said he fears that “in 30 years, there will be no more artwork,”citing the lack of community members who know what the traditional crafts looked like. As to bringing their ancestors’ belongings home, to preserve items that are a century old requires storage areas that moderate humidity, temperature and exposure to sunlight. The Chachi people hope someday to be able to build their own community museum to do so. Such a space would be “a living memorial for the next generation,” said Quisintuña Chango. However, for now, they are eager to continue their virtual engagements with the collection. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Many members also expressed an interest in visiting the NMAI. “I’d like to go to Washington,” Danner  said. By studying the photos of his community’s items in NMAI archives and perhaps someday visiting the collection at the Cultural Resources Center, he hopes the Chachi can breathe life back into these traditional techniques and textiles.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the meantime, the community is looking to their “wise women” and other culture keepers as well to be able to teach the younger generation. “For these practices to survive you have to look at two parameters: the family and early education,” said Danner Añapa. The elders who possess such knowledge are essential. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Quisintuña Chango is optimistic that Maria Añapa, one of the last to still actively practice these weaving techniques, can pass on her skills. Añapa embraced the idea, and the Chachi community is applying for funds to train her to become a teacher of ancestral weaving techniques. If she receives a scholarship or grant, she will tour the region, teaching the young and old alike. Judging by the enthusiasm she has seen at her presentations, Quisintuña Chango is certain that a teaching program can plant the seeds of knowledge in Chachi youth, which would enable these centuries-long traditions to continue.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
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      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-0332b46c4de7ff60cf86dc2e6f3ffe7682013f2e9ac7cc356ed71a49f3cce7bd"&gt;
  
    
      
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Jonathan Franklin
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&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jonathan Franklin is a journalist based in Chile.&lt;/p&gt;
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  <pubDate>Wed, 06 Aug 2025 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ArtmanM</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1126 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
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