Exhibition

An American Modernist: Oscar Howe Fractured Stereotypes of Native Art

KlingbielEL — Mon, 21 Mar 2022 15:27:22 +0000

Exhibition

An American Modernist: Oscar Howe Fractured Stereotypes of Native Art

From Issue: Spring 2022 / Vol. 23 No. 1

by Alexandra N. Harris

Oscar Howe, a Yanktonai Dakota artist, was one of the most innovative Native American painters of the 20th century. Together, his modernist approach and life’s work promoting artistic innovation changed how the dominant art world defined contemporary Indigenous art. Yet he has been relatively unknown in the broader American art canon.

A new exhibition, “Dakota Modern: The Art of Oscar Howe,” opening at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York in March and its companion catalog aim to establish Howe’s legacy as a modernist. They explore not only his art but also his life as an educator and advocate for artistic independence.

Oscar Howe based this painting of a young girl crying out as she rides a bloodied horse on the story of his grandmother Shell Face. He said, “She had a scar on her hand where she had been shot through the hand by white soldiers.”

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983); “Fleeing a Massacre,” 1969; casein on paper, 24.75” x 20.75”. BankWest, Pierre, South Dakota. BankWest, Inc.

Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Here Oscar Howe is seated in front of a selection of his paintings at South Dakota State University on March 30, 1958. In 1970, he said of his works, “It is my greatest hope that my paintings may serve to bring the best things of Indian culture into the modern way of life.”

Oscar Howe papers, Richardson Collection, Archives and Special Collections, University Libraries, University of South Dakota

Western definitions of fine art have historically precluded artists from non-Western or colonized origins, categorizing their work as “primitivism.” Instead of accepting that the innovation, experimentation and abstraction of modernism could emerge globally as a response to industrialization and exchanges of ideas, the Western art establishment of the 19th and 20th centuries situated non-Western art—including progressive Indigenous art such as Howe’s—outside the boundaries of fine art. Art institutions and critics expected that Native art (and Native people) be almost antimodern—static, unchanging, outside of time—and so it was required to adhere to non-Native terms in order to be “authentic.” Experimentation was frowned upon and considered derivative of Western influences.

Oscar Howe, however, rejected such premises. Howe’s work does not go against tradition but expands the way those traditions can be expressed. Though grounded in culture, his experimentation and rejection of realism places him squarely as a modernist.

Born in 1915 on the Crow Creek Indian Reservation in central South Dakota, Howe sourced his cultural subject matter from his grandmother’s Dakota teachings and, later, his own research. His artistic process was rooted in Očhéthi Šakówiŋ (or Sioux, which includes Lakota and Dakota dialects) language, aesthetics and philosophy.

While in high school in the mid-1930s at the Santa Fe Indian School, he learned the styles and subjects considered “traditional” to American Indian painting, which, ironically, were delineated by non-Native instructors. While studying for his bachelor’s degree at Dakota Wesleyan University from 1948 to 1952 and master’s degree at the University of Oklahoma from 1952 to 1953, he gained exposure to mainstream Western artistic methods. From that point on, he began to develop his own unique style, which evolved over his decades of work. He experimented with geometric abstraction and incorporated processes that were singularly Dakota in origin. Though often mistaken as a cubist, Howe described his point-and-line composition technique as “tahokmu,” or “thˇahóhˇmuŋ,” the “spiderweb,” a term with both visual and spiritual significance for Dakota people. The resulting effect is one of electricity, energy and movement.

In 1958, he submitted “Umine Wacipi” (“War and Peace Dance”), in which abstract shapes represent drumbeats, to Philbrook Art Center (now Philbrook Museum of Art) for its “Indian Annual” painting exhibition—one of the foremost juried shows of Native American art during the 20th century. When his work was rejected because the competition’s judges deemed it “not Indian,” Howe responded with an impassioned letter that asserted a bold defense of individual artistic freedom. He wrote, “Are we to be held back forever with one phase of Indian painting, that is the most common way? We are to be herded like a bunch of sheep, with no right for individualism, dictated [to] as the Indian has always been . . . . Well, I am not going to stand for it.”

Howe was confident in the authenticity of his work. He saw no contradiction between the image-making of his ancestors and his own artistic expressions of Očhéthi Šakówiŋ life. Instead of adhering to outdated expectations, Howe insisted the mainstream art world should change how it examined and categorized American Indian art. His letter was a catalyst for a sea change that would provide greater artistic freedom to future generations of Native artists.

In addition to painting his own works, Howe taught art from the 1940s through the 1970s. First hired to teach at Dakota Wesleyan University while he earned his bachelor’s degree, Howe then instructed students at Pierre’s public high school in the 1950s. In 1957, he joined the art faculty at the University of South Dakota (USD) in Vermillion, where he taught until 1979. While at USD, Howe established a summer art program that continues today as the Oscar Howe Summer Art Institute (OHSAI). He influenced generations of young Native artists who previously had no Indigenous role model in their field. Contemporary artist Keith BraveHeart (Lakota) reflects, “The OHSAI program is a significant element of Howe’s legacy, and his foresight and compassion for the next generation of tribal artists (especially amongst the Northern Plains region), provides a further example of greatness and heart.”

According to Kathleen Ash-Milby, curator of the “Dakota Modern” exhibition and Native American Art at the Portland Art Museum in Oregon, this is the moment to put Howe’s legacy in perspective. Radical changes in the recognition of contemporary Native American art during the past 25 years have created an environment in which scholars can now examine artists who were active in the 20th century and appreciate their innovations without the historical baggage and tired stereotypes about Native art that plagued previous generations. “Oscar Howe was truly an artist ahead of his time,” asserted Ash-Milby. “It’s unfortunate that the art world was not ready or willing to understand that his work could be both Dakota and modern. His innovation was instead dismissed as derivative. We are finally ready to look at his work with new eyes and appreciation.”

Dakota Modern: The Art of Oscar Howe

The “Dakota Modern: The Art of Oscar Howe” exhibition and its companion catalog of the same name cover more than 40 years of the Yanktonai Dakota artist’s career. They trace his development from his early conventional work created in the 1930s through the emergence of his abstract approach to painting during the 1950s and 1960s. Perhaps most significantly, they follow Howe’s journey from “traditional” painter to groundbreaking modernist.

Exhibition curator Kathleen Ash-Milby began developing “Dakota Modern” in 2016 while serving as an associate curator at the National Museum of the American Indian. Working with scholars Christina Burke at Philbrook Museum of Art, John Lukavic at the Denver Art Museum and Bill Anthes at Pitzer College as well as NMAI staff, the exhibition took six years to create.

Co-edited by Ash-Milby and Anthes, the exhibition’s companion catalog is the most comprehensive collection of scholarship regarding this artist’s work to date. Ash-Milby reflected, “I don’t think any of us realized the depth of untapped resources and potential avenues for further research.” In addition to multiple scholars, contributors to the book include Howe’s daughter, Inge Dawn Howe Maresh, who offers a personal reflection on her father and his work. NMAI Curator Emil Her Many Horses, who is an Oglala Lakota artist and one of the catalog’s authors, said Howe’s artworks are “very complex” and full of symbolism. “His work embodies the stories that were passed down to him. A lot of our traditional stories are represented in his paintings,” he said.

The publication features photos of nearly 150 of Howe’s paintings and murals alongside 50 personal photographs of Howe at work and with family. Almost all of the artist’s works, which reside at universities, museums, churches and private homes, were photographed specifically for this catalog. Most of the artworks are archived at the University of South Dakota (USD) in Vermillion, where he taught for many years. In partnership with Amy Fill, University Art Galleries director, and her staff at USD, project team members photographed the works and gathered information about their materials, techniques and condition. These images have been shared with USD, adding to the documentation of Howe’s legacy.

Together, the exhibition and the catalog introduce new generations to the extraordinary work and life of Oscar Howe and expand their understanding of what defines Native art. For those who thought they knew Howe, they provide a more in-depth look at his biography, his works and the impact he made on generations of Native artists.

Following is a selection and adaptation of the engaging “Dakota Modern” exhibition featuring Howe’s innovative artworks at NMAI in New York.

Howe was raised with Dakota cultural and spiritual beliefs, but he was also an active Episcopalian. The blending of and interconnectedness between these two belief systems is apparent in his paintings of Native and Christian cultural figures.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Origin of the Sioux,” 1960; casein on paper; 30” x 20.5”. Oscar Howe Family Collection, University Art Galleries, University of South Dakota, Vermillion, HF OH 28 (O.H.L.01). Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Early Years

Oscar Howe was one of the earliest students in a studio arts program designed by art teacher Dorothy Dunn at the Santa Fe Indian School in New Mexico.

Howe’s first entry for the “Indian Annual” exhibition at the Philbrook Art Centear (now Philbrook Museum of Art) won the Grand Purchase Prize, a remarkable achievement for a first-time participant in such a significant national competition.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Dakota Duck Hunt,” circa 1945; watercolor on paper; 16” × 25.5”. Philbrook Museum of Art. Philbrook Museum of Art, Tulsa, Oklahoma; museum purchase, 1947.28. Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Umine Wacipi” (“War and Peace Dance”), 1958; watercolor on paper. Location unknown; private collection. Image Courtesy of University Art Galleries, University of South Dakota

Umine Wacipi

“Umine Wacipi” (“War and Peace Dance”) may be Howe’s most influential work. Its rejection from Philbrook Art Center’s (now Philbrook Museum of Art) annual art competition in 1958 due to its divergence from what was considered “traditional” Native American painting caused the normally quiet Oscar Howe to respond forcefully in his own—and other contemporary artists’—defense. His letter to Philbrook ignited a movement that advocated for artists’ innovation and individuality that has resonated through the generations of Native artists that followed.

The Storyteller

Howe believed his responsibility as an artist was to record and share Očhéthi Šakówiŋ knowledge.

Culture and Belief

While recovering from an illness as a child, Howe spent a great amount of time with his grandmother Shell Face, who taught him about Dakota culture and beliefs. This experience deeply influenced Howe and would later form the foundation of the sophisticated content that distinguishes his work. He researched his content rigorously and believed that Native artists had a profound responsibility to understand the cultural subjects they portrayed.

Here, in a dramatic moment, an evil spirit appears during a 30-day dance to honor the buffalo and strikes fear in the participants, who turn away. The turtle shell at the bottom was used as a drum during the Buffalo Dance. According to Howe, the yellow in this painting symbolizes life and can be interpreted as a hopeful sign that evil will be overcome.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Evil Spirit of the Buffalo Dance,” 1961; casein on paper; 29.75” x 22.5”. Cutler Family Collection. Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Historical Subjects

Howe rarely created paintings that referenced a specific historical moment. He claimed that his painting of the Wounded Knee massacre “was not meant to be a shocker but merely a recorded true event.” In this depiction, Howe represents the U.S. Cavalry as a monolithic killing machine in contrast to the suffering and humanity of the Lakota men, women and children massacred on December 29, 1890, at Wounded Knee Creek in South Dakota.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Wounded Knee Massacre,” 1959–1960. Gouache on paper, 22” x 28”. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, National Archives and Records Administration, Abilene, Kansas, acc. no. 60.618. Courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration, Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, Kansas. Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Master of Color and Design

Oscar Howe emulated the practice of traditional Dakota artists in his designs, color choices and application.

Sun Dance Sequence

Throughout his career, Howe painted depictions of powerful Očhéthi Šakówiŋ traditions, including the Sun Dance. This ceremony—specifically the moment when dancers break free from the pole in a moment of transcendence—held particular fascination for him.

In his early work, his perspective was as a viewer. As his technique matured, so did the angle of view. In “Sacro-Wi-Dance,” the viewpoint is that of a participant, looking up from below. The dancers have completely lost their earthly connection as their bodies dissolve into swirls of ecstasy. The pole is viewed at an acute angle, and it, too, appears to sway and bend as the rules of physics slip away.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “Sacro-Wi-Dance” (“Sun Dance”), 1965; casein on paper; 28” x 22.5”. University Art Galleries, University of South Dakota, PC OH 29 (OH 99.1). Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Point and Line: Defining the Figure

“Composing through esthetic points has become part of my working process, though in my work it is not a formal ceremony.” —Oscar Howe, 1969

Fracturing Space

Howe’s mature compositional approach involved transforming subjects and backgrounds into a series of fractured planes using two-dimensional, flat surfaces to represent a three-dimensional space. Much to his frustration, a pervasive narrative emerged in the scholarship asserting that his artwork was influenced by cubism. While Howe was thoroughly educated in European and American art traditions of the 20th century, he insisted that his art in both form and execution was deeply rooted in Dakota compositional and philosophical traditions.

Oscar Howe (Yanktonai Dakota, 1915–1983), “War Dancer,” 1966; casein on board; 25.5” x 20”. The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri; Gift of the Association on American Indian Affairs, New York City, New York, 78-16. Image courtesy of The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art Media Services

Animal Lyricism

Howe regularly looked to animals for inspiration. Birds, horses, antelope, bison and other creatures appear in paintings with direct cultural references but also as stand-alone subjects. In these poetic vignettes, such as in “Fighting Bucks” above—purchased by the NMAI from private collectors in 2018—the artist revels in the beauty and design sourced from the distinctive characteristics of animals in motion.

This and the other innovative paintings in the “Dakota Modern” exhibition continue to inspire. Oscar Howe’s legacy endures, through not only his artworks but also his influence on present and future generations of Native artists.

“Fighting Bucks,” 1967; casein on paper; 20.25 x 27”. National Museum of the American Indian 27/0217. Courtesy of the NMAI and Oscar Howe Family

Authors

Alexandra N. Harris

Alexandra N. Harris is a senior editor at the National Museum of the American Indian.

Transformations: Groundbreaking Glassmaker Preston Singletary Brings North Pacific Coast Cultures to Life

KlingbielEL — Wed, 15 Dec 2021 15:59:45 +0000

Exhibition

Transformations: Groundbreaking Glassmaker Preston Singletary Brings North Pacific Coast Cultures to Life

From Issue: Winter 2021 / Vol. 22 No. 4

by Anne Bolen

First, you enter a world in darkness. Then moving into a dim room, you hear and see rain falling behind a canoe. Across from this is an all-white raven. At the center of the room, you see the bird’s remarkable transformation into a human boy. You will next enter a Tlingit clan chief’s house that has a great bounty of precious objects, including intricately carved glass boxes that glow.

In 2003, NMAI commissioned Tlingit artist Preston Singletary to create this 3-foot-long, sandblasted glass sculpture entitled “Gagaan Awutáawu Yéil” (Raven Steals the Sun) for the “Our Universes” exhibition. The sun in the raven’s mouth was illuminated with fiber optics.

“Gagaan Awutáawu Yéil” (Raven Steals the Sun), Preston Singletary, 2003; blown, cut, and sandblasted layered red and black glass; 31” x 10 in”. 26/3273

Photo by NMAI Staff

This painting of an eagle was one the many pieces Singletary created for “Echoes, Fire and Shadows,” his first solo show, which was exhibited at the NMAI in New York in 2011.

“Heraldic Eagle,” Preston Singletary, 2011; oil on canvas. 116”x 97”. 26/8504

Photo by NMAI Staff

Singletary painted the formline bear and a pair of ravens on this Martin guitar as a potential prototype, but today it is one of a kind.

Customized Martin Guitar (Gil’jaa K.ok), 2008; hand-painted spruce soundboard. 40”x 16” x 4”.

Photo Courtesy of Preston Singletary

Singletary often demonstrates the art of glassmaking at the Museum of Glass’s hot shop.

Photo by Ken Emly, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

This is just part of the multisensory exhibition “Preston Singletary: Raven and the Box of Daylight,” which is scheduled to open January 28, 2022, at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. Raven is a prominent figure throughout North Pacific Coast cultures, including in many creation stories. In “Raven and the Box of Daylight,” this trickster is reborn as a human child who manipulates his grandfather, a clan chief, into giving him coveted boxes full of the stars, moon and sun. Releasing them, he brings light to the world.

While many versions of this tale are told, it has never been presented this way before. The exhibition features more than 60 glass objects and sculptures created by international Tlingit artist Preston Kochéin Singletary. Visitors will be guided through Raven’s story by stunning glass pieces paired with projected light, moving imagery and ethereal soundscapes.

The immersive exhibition began as a collaboration between Singletary and the Museum of Glass in Tacoma, Washington. More than three years in the making, when the exhibition first opened in 2018, Rebecca Engelhardt, the exhibitions and collections manager at the museum, said visitors were “gobsmacked by the experience.” This innovative show is not only the artist’s magnum opus but reflects the way in which he has transformed how people view traditional Tlingit art.

A Long and Winding Road

As a youth growing up in Seattle, Washington, Singletary didn’t plan on being an artist. Rather he thought he would be making a living playing guitar in a rock band. But in 1979, at the age of 15, he met Dante Marioni, the son of famous glass artist Paul Marioni. In 1982, Dante helped Singletary get a job at the The Glass Eye Studio in Seattle, where he would be trained in making objects such as vases.

In 1984, he attended his first of many glassmaking workshops at the Pilchuck Glass School in Stanwood, Washington. His time at Pilchuck would help propel his interest in the glass arts as well as his heritage. He met Isleta Pueblo sculptor Anthony Jojola and Tlingit wood and neon artist David Svenson, both of whom encouraged him to learn more about his Tlingit ancestry and express it through his art.

During the next two decades, he attended workshops at Pilchuck, where he trained with Italian masters such as Checco Ongaro, Pino Signoretto and Lino Tagliapietra as well as American artists Dan Daily and Richard Royal. He also worked at leading glassmaker Benjamin Moore’s studio. In 1993, he traveled to Europe and Japan to observe master glassmakers and then made his way to a design school in Scandinavia. There he courted Åsa Sandlund, a designer who would become his future wife, and worked as a craftsman in residence for six months. He created vessels that reflected the clean Scandinavian style while working on perfecting his Tlingit designs. “I was straddling two different worlds,” he said.

Back in Seattle, Singletary became a distinctive part of the Washington glass studio art scene. He learned and found inspiration from scholars and other Native artists, including Steven Brown, Duane Pasco, Joe David (Nuu-chah-nulth), Ed Archie NoiseCat (Salish), Marvin Oliver (Isleta Pueblo/Quinault) and Shdal’éiw Walter Porter (Tlingit).

Singletary’s works often feature themes of transformation as well as the iconic animal and human figures, objects or ovoid shapes and faces characteristic of North Pacific Coast art and formline design. Yet some may view such art as not truly Tlingit because his pieces are made from glass rather than wood or other traditional mediums. Singletary disregards such thinking. Native people are “early adopters of every kind of technology,” he says. He and his team are “transforming the culture and forging new paths. And that should be allowed.”

NMAI Curator and Ogala Lakota artist Emil Her Many Horses was impressed by Singletary’s innovative use of glass when he first saw his works at the Santa Fe Indian Market a couple of decades ago. When NMAI was preparing for its opening in Washington, D.C., in 2004, Her Many Horses commissioned Singletary to make a large raven head holding a sun in its beak for one of its inaugural exhibitions, “Our Universes.” (This artwork would later inspire Singletary to create a similar piece for the “Raven and the Box of Daylight” exhibition.) In 2011, NMAI in New York would go on to host Singletary’s “Echoes, Fire and Shadows” exhibition that was also originally created for the Museum of Glass. This mid-career survey featured a great range of Singletary’s works, from glass vases and large figures to an object close to his heart, a Martin guitar painted with his formline designs.

When Her Many Horses saw Singletary’s “Raven and the Box of Daylight” at the Museum of Glass, he was floored by the sheer number of pieces the artist had produced for the solo show as well as their quality and knew he wanted the exhibition at NMAI. “Preston has perfected his art and his designs,” he said.

His pieces are now showcased in museums around the country. He has also received many awards and recognitions, including the Rakow Commission from the Corning Museum of Glass and an honorary doctorate of arts from the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Washington. “It has been a pleasure to work multiple years with Preston and watch him grow as an artist.” says Engelhardt. “He continues to build upon an amazing body of work.”

Singletary—who says he is “a musician trapped in a glassblower’s body”—also feeds his hunger for music by playing bass guitar in his funk rock band, Khu.éex.’ The band, whose members are Tlingit, Haida and Blackfoot, tells stories and sings songs about Indigenous issues in Native languages.

A Collaborative Art

Unlike many other artforms that are created by individuals, “glassblowing is kind of a team effort,” says Singletary. This is particularly true for his glass pieces that are several feet tall and can weigh hundreds of pounds.

The process of creating glass works depends much on their size, but they all start with designs he has drawn. For smaller pieces, colored glass at the end of a steel pipe is melted in a furnace that can reach temperatures up to 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit until it reaches a liquid state. Colored powders are sprinkled on top in layers as the pipe is continually rotated, then taken in and out of the furnace, blown into and rolled again so the piece keeps its desired shape. When the piece is ready, the artist’s assistant will take a bit of melted glass and as the glass blower stops rotating the piece, adds this “punty” of glass to the piece’s end. At precisely the right moment, the pipe is tapped and the piece breaks away, leaving the piece attached to the punty. The artist will keep the piece malleable and shape it in the furnace’s “glory hole” until it is ready to be separated from its punty base. It will eventually be transferred to an “annealing oven,” where it cools for hours, or in the case of some larger pieces, days.

Singletary carves the designs on his pieces by using a high-pressure sand-blasting tool that removes layers of colors. He draws his design on a portion of thick green rubber that he lays over the piece to guide the tool and protect what he doesn’t want to cut away. This reductive process is repeated until he completes the design on the work.

Large sculptures and other pieces may be shaped by pouring molten glass into a mold that is designed by the artist and then polished. To make these, Singletary works with glassmakers in the Czech Republic, where kilns of immense size are available.

Throughout the process, he has the help of assistants, many of whom work with him in his Seattle studio. He also leads glassmaking demonstrations at the Museum of Glass’s hot shop, where he has collaborated with several other well-known glass artists. Engelhardt says of Singletary, “He is an incredible artist to work with. He brings great people to the table.” Singletary says he enjoys helping other artists “realize their own ideas in glass. It challenges me.”

Reshaping a Classic Story

To create “Raven and the Box of Daylight,” Singletary truly needed a large cast of talent. First, he and guest curator Miranda Shkík Belarde-Lewis (Zuni/Tlingit) looked at five different versions of the Raven story as told by four Tlingit storytellers. A group of Tlingit speakers translated the original tales. One of the stories was from Tlingit mythologist Walter Porter, who Singletary initially asked to curate the exhibition. However, Porter died in 2013 before they could begin to work on the project. So Singletary asked Belarde-Lewis, a former NMAI curatorial research assistant who is now an independent curator and assistant professor of North American Indigenous Knowledge at the University of Washington, to take on the task.

Singletary also enlisted visual artist Juniper Shuey to design the moving imagery and direct the lighting of Singletary’s creations. “The space and the environment influence how you view the objects,” he says. For example, in the room that is the clan chief’s house, light seems to pour out of the ceiling onto the grey and black “transformation hat,” projecting its formline designs onto the surrounding stand. In the following room, after Raven brings light to the world, projected scenes show birds flying into the sky and other animals in the forest. Sounds of nature mixed with human voices speaking in the Tlingit language can be heard. The light and sound “follows your journey,” Shuey says, and the combined effect accentuates the experience.”

Singletary and his studio artists created dozens of pieces for the exhibition while trying to maintain a lucrative business by making other pieces to sell. Some of the largest pieces had to be created in the Fire Art Studios in Portland because it had a larger kiln.

The end result was well worth the combined effort. Singletary has broken glass ceilings of how Tlingit art is perceived, and “Raven and the Box of Daylight” has educated a broad audience about North Pacific Coast cultures. Yet Belarde-Lewis says that what everyone takes away from the experience is their own interpretation: “We give the bones of the story. But what it means, we can’t tell you.” She does hope that visitors will learn to “appreciate old stories, whether that is Raven’s stories or just thinking deeper about their own. Experiencing other people’s stories is a fundamental way of recognizing each other’s humanity.”

Singletary is now looking to create “pop up” exhibitions at other museums around the country as well as art for public spaces in Seattle. Incorporating Tlingit culture into his art and working with other Indigenous artists around the world “has become one of the most fulfilling things I could have done. It connects me to family and the community. I learned so much by thinking about the art, the histories and the stories,” Singletary said. “It is just such an enriching process for me, to be a kind of ambassador of glass to the Indigenous community.”

Raven and the Box of Daylight

Weaving a Story

The story of Raven releasing or “stealing” the daylight is one of the Tlingit peoples of southeast Alaska’s most iconic stories. The basic storyline is similar across Tlingit communities, but distinct variations make each version unique to specific villages and individual storytellers. Each telling emphasizes different aspects of the same story, creating a unique treasure for the families, the communities and for all Tlingit people. The story you are about to encounter is a blend of these voices woven together. The specific details that influenced the version told here helped shape Singletary’s glass art and his vision for this ambitious endeavor. This exhibition adapts the ancient story, bringing it into the present, so we can imagine what Raven went through to bring light to the world.

The Tlingit name for Raven is Yéil. The story of Yéil ka Keiwa.aa (Raven and the Box of Daylight) unfolds through four areas: Along the Nass River, Transformation, Clan House and World Drenched in Daylight. The underlying messages of Yéil ka Keiwa.aa are about not only light entering the world, but also the values of forgiveness, family over possessions and accountability for one’s actions.

—Miranda Shkík Belarde-Lewis (Zuni/Tlingit), Independent Curator

The following is excerpted from “Preston Singletary: Raven and the Box of Daylight” exhibition, which was organized by the artist, Preston Singletary, and Museum of Glass in Tacoma, Washington. It is guest curated by Miranda Belarde-Lewis. The multisensory visitor experience was designed by zoe|juniper.

Before here was here, Raven was only named Yéil. He was a white bird and the world was in darkness.

At nearly 3 feet tall, this totem pole encapsulates the story of the Raven, who receives the box of daylight from his grandfather, the clan chief below, and releases the sun. Yéil ka Keiwa.aa Lákt (Raven and the Box of Daylight), 2016; cast lead crystal, kiln-cast glass; 32.75” × 9.75” × 6 in”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Along the Nass River

Yéil (Raven) decides that he will try and do something about the darkness, for himself and for the world. As he follows the Nass River, he encounters the Fishermen of the Night.

As Yéil approaches the canoe, the Fishermen greet him with their paddles standing straight up in welcome. The Fishermen tell Yéil of Naas Shaak Aank-áawu (the Nobleman at the Head of the Nass River): that he is a wealthy man, that he and his family live in a house filled with wealth, and that he has a beautiful daughter who drinks from the river every day. They tell Yéil the man has many treasures in his Clan House, including beautifully carved boxes that house the light.

Projected scenes, such as this one behind the salmon, canoe and its paddles on the Nass River, allow visitors to experience Raven’s world. Nass Héeni (Nass River), 2018; kiln-formed glass; steel feet; 5’ x 29’ x 14’. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

The white raven is a spiritual being. Visitors can follow his journey throughout the exhibition. Dieit Yéil (White Raven), 2018; blown, hot-sculpted and sand-carved glass; steal stand; 19.5” x 10” x 14”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Transformation

Yéil knows he will not be welcome in his raven form and devises a plan to transform himself to a tiny speck of dirt. His plan is to float down the river into the drinking ladle of the young woman, Naas Shaak Aank-áawu du Séek’ (Daughter of the Nobleman at the Head of the Nass River). That is how he will sneak into the Clan House.

Yéil turns himself into a piece of dirt and falls into the water. He floats into the young woman’s ladle as she dips it into the river for a drink. Her servants test the purity of the water by dipping a feather plume into the ladle. Yéil in dirt form is discovered and thrown away. Yéil notices the color of the ladle is similar to the color of hemlock boughs. On his second try, he transforms himself into a hemlock needle and floats into her ladle again.

Yéil is ingested by Naas Shaak Aank-áawu du Séek’ and she becomes pregnant with Yéil. The family questions the Immaculate Conception, but ultimately accepts it. When it is time for the young woman to give birth, the servants line a shallow pit with fine furs in preparation for the high-ranking baby to be born. Naas Shaak Aank-áawu du Séek’ struggles and cannot give birth. A wise woman is summoned, and she notices the fine furs. She knows the finery is making the birth difficult and orders them removed. The furs are replaced with a more humble lining of moss and Old Man’s Beard from the trees, and Yéil T’ukanéiyi (Raven Baby) is born in human form.

Yéil T’ukanéiyi grows into a precocious and precious human boy.

Hoping to be ingested by a clan chief’s daughter and be reborn as a human boy, Raven turns into a speck of dirt, which can be seen as a small blue ball inside a drop of water dangling from a feather that stretches nearly 2.5 feet tall. Héen Alts‘ak (Feather Pulled Through Water), 2017; hot-sculpted and sand-carved glass; steel stand; 29.5” x 6” x 8.5”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

The Raven has more success as a hemlock needle and the daughter becomes pregnant. This statue shows the face of the raven baby on her belly. Below it is the moss on which he will be born. K‘anashgidéi Yā-x Koowdzitee (Humble Birth), 2018; blown, hot-sculpted and sand-carved glass; steel stand; 49.5” x 19” x 19”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Clan House

Yéil K’átsk’u (Raven Boy) is the beloved grandson of Naas Shaak Aanáawu (the Nobleman at the Head of the Nass River). Naas Shaak Aanáawu spoils him, giving all he asks for; his grandfather cannot deny him. Even though he is given everything he desires, he tires of being a human and decides it is time to leave.

Three carved boxes contain Naas Shaak Aank-áawu’s most prized possessions: the stars, the moon and the daylight. Yéil K’átsk’u asks for the boxes and is told he cannot have them. He cries and cries for the box of stars and eventually his grandfather relents. Naas Shaak Aank-áawu gives his grandson the box of stars, which he immediately opens. The stars slip through the smoke hole in the Clan House and take their places in the sky.

Naas Shaak Aank-áawu is furious with his grandson. He scolds him and Yéil K’átsk’u becomes inconsolable. His crying breaks his grandfather’s heart and he forgives his grandson for what he has done, but the boy still will not be comforted. The boy moves towards the box containing the moon. His grandfather hesitates, but forgives his grandson again. He gives Yéil K’átsk’u the box with the moon.

Naas Shaak Aank-áawu du Séek’ (Daughter of the Nobleman at the Head of the Nass River), the boy’s mother, does not think her son should have the box and she argues with her father. As they argue, Yéil K’átsk’u opens the box. He plays with the moon and then releases it. The moon silently slips through the smoke hole and takes its place in the sky. The sun is the final treasure. Naas Shaak Aank-áawu protects it fiercely, but Yéil K’átsk’u eventually succeeds in releasing the daylight.

Large pieces such as these clan house panels and posts can weigh hundreds of pounds and take days if not weeks to cool once fired. Naa Kahídi (Clan House), 2008; Kiln-cast and sand-carved glass; water-jet cut, inlaid and laminated medallion; screen 109” x 122” x 2.5”. Two house posts; each 81.75” x 32.5” x 2.5”. Collection of Museum of Glass. Photo by Russell Johnson and Jeff Curtis, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

The Clan House is full of precious objects that show the Nobleman’s wealth, such as this seal sculpture. Deenáa (Fur Seal), 2010; blown and sand-carved glass; 13.75” x 7” x 9.5”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Light shining from above on this “transformation hat” shows its designs clearly on its stand. S’aaxw (Hat), 2018; blown and sand-carved glass; 6.75” x 16.5”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

The boxes are illuminated within with lights that make them glow. Behind the boxes, projected images of clouds and other scenes add to the ambience. Altogether, more than a dozen projectors were used throughout the show. Dis Lákt (Box with the Moon), 2018; kiln-formed and sand-carved glass; neon lighting; steel base; 20.5” x 30.75” x 18.75”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

In the Clan House are the chief’s most precious objects, carved boxes containing the stars, the moon and the sun. Keiwa.aa Lákt (Box with Daylight), 2018; kiln-formed and sand-carved glass; neon lighting; steel base; 16.5” x 35.75” x 14.75”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

World Drenched in Daylight

As the stars fill the sky and as the moon takes its place, light begins to fill the earth. When the sun takes its place in the sky, bringing daylight to the world, it is frightening to all those who have been in darkness. The people are able to see the world around them for the first time and are startled. Those wearing animal regalia run to the woods and become The Animal People. Those wearing bird regalia jump into the sky and become The Winged People. Those wearing water animal regalia become The Water People. Those who remained strong (and stubborn) become Human People.

Yéil (Raven) decides it is time to leave and transforms back into bird form. Naas Shaak Aank-áawu (the Nobleman at the Head of the Nass River) is devastated that his treasures have been released into the sky. He is so angry that he gathers all the pitch in the Clan House in a bentwood box and throws it into the fire. He catches Yéil as he tries to escape out of the smoke hole and holds onto his feet. Raven is covered in the soot and smoke of the fire. He is transformed from a spiritual being into the black bird we know today. His color marks his sacrifice; his physical form is forever changed for bringing light into the world.

The story climaxes with the Raven releasing the sun. His human grandfather, fed up with his tricks, holds him over a smoke hole, turning him black. Gagaan Awutáawu Yéil (Raven Steals the Sun), 2008; blown, hot-sculpted and sand-carved glass; 9.5” x 26” x 9.5”. Collection of the Museum of Glass; gift of the artist. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Balance is important to the Tlingit world. When the light comes to the world, animals disperse into the sky, woods and water and people are divided into two moieties, under which are several clans designated by animal crests. Here are just two of the many noble leaders of those clans in the exhibition, Salmon Woman from the Eagle moiety (pictured here) and Thunderbird Man of the Raven moiety (next slide). Xaat Sháa (Salmon Woman), 2018; blown and sand-carved glass; 27” x 14” x 14”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Xeiti Kaa (Thunderbird Man), 2018; blown, hot-sculpted and sand-carved glass; 26” x 15.5” x 15.5”. Photo by Russell Johnson, Courtesy of Museum of Glass

Authors

Anne Bolen

Anne Bolen is executive editor of American Indian magazine.

Native New York: Exploring What Makes This State an Indigenous Place

KlingbielEL — Thu, 15 Apr 2021 20:14:45 +0000

Exhibition

Native New York: Exploring What Makes This State an Indigenous Place

From Issue: Spring 2021 / Vol. 22 No. 1

by Anne Bolen

Every story has multiple viewpoints—and always more to it that could be told. Through an innovative new exhibition scheduled to open at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City this year, the museum will present New York from the perspective of a diverse range of Native voices. While Indigenous people have been and continue to be integral to this multicultural state, their stories are seldom heard.

“Native New York” is an immersive experience that shows how Haudenosaunee, Lenape, Mohican and Long Island Native nations have influenced this region and reveals that New York is—and always has been—a Native place. By following a wood path, visitors can journey through 12 locations across New York state, from the shores of Long Island through Manhattan to Niagara Falls. The tales told at these sites through a combination of interactive displays, graphic-novel-style illustrations, unique objects and personal stories span time from before the Revolutionary War through today and will challenge how visitors perceive New York and its Native people.

The approachable narrative of the exhibition will appeal to both adults and youth, and as its content aligns with New York state social studies standards for fourth, fifth and seventh grades, this will be a help to instructors. “Teachers have been looking for this type of information for a long time,” explains Johanna Gorelick, manager of NMAI’s Education Department. “Students want to learn about Native people and culture, yet they don’t know where to look for resources. This really fills the gap.”

Gabrielle Tayac (Piscataway), now an associate professor of history at George Mason University, served as NMAI’s curator for the exhibition from 2012 to 2017. She and other NMAI staff visited nearly all the Indigenous communities mentioned in the exhibition, including those of the Lenape who once lived here and were forced by encroaching colonists to flee to other places such as Oklahoma and Ontario. Tayac says they traveled with community members to locations where significant historical events took place to “see their memories,” and to “hear from them what they felt was important for people to know.” She says, “these landscapes shaped them.” These conversations led to the formation of an advisory committee of representatives from these Native communities who then consulted on the exhibition’s content.

David Penney, NMAI’s associate director for Museum Research and Scholarship, took over as the exhibition’s curator in 2018. He says Native people are often depicted as part of “foundation culture, that they play a role but then disappear and are no longer part of the history of the United States.” Penney says this exhibition “counters that narrative.” For example, visitors can see Mohawk ironworkers construct buildings while balancing on steel beams above Manhattan, how wampum beads are still made in a workshop on Long Island and uniforms of well-known Iroquois Nationals lacrosse players. In an auditorium, they can also listen to contemporary Native people telling their own stories.

The exhibition also reveals “some histories that may have been concealed,” says Penney. One such tale is that of America’s “Founding Father” George Washington ordering the burning of 40 Haudenosaunee towns in 1779 to chase these people from their lands. This earned him the Haudenosaunee name of “Hanadahguyus,” or “town destroyer.” Tayac visited the gully where some of the Haudenosaunee hid. She recalls, “We walked into the gorges where people still had memories and songs for the plants that sustained them while the soldiers were hunting them down.” Penney says, “The best way as a museum to pursue social justice, restorative justice, is by offering more accurate stories of the histories of those experiences.”

“Native New York” presents even difficult tales such as this in easily digestible formats, including comic strips. Laguna Pueblo graphic novelist Lee Francis IV wrote many of the illustrated stories in the exhibition, which were created under the direction of Michael Sheyahshe (Caddo) and in collaboration with several Indigenous comic book artists. “By doing it through a visual medium, I believe we are able to make something more compelling. It sits in the head and hopefully it sits in the heart,” Francis says. “That is how we change the narrative.”

Tayac says she hopes visitors will gain insight into “the profound and ongoing contributions that Native nations have had to building the world and, coming from the other direction, that Native people will also value and appreciate the experiences and the building of their own nations.” She explains, “The Mohican word for the Hudson is ‘Mahicannituck,’ which translates to a ‘river that flows both ways.’ I hope that people will understand that the history of Native New York is a history that flows both ways.”

Visit Native New York

Following are highlights from six of the 12 places featured in NMAI’s new exhibition “Native New York.” Each location is marked by its English and Native names.

Battery Park / Kapsee

“The Sharp Rock Place”

The National Museum of the American Indian sits on what is now lower Manhattan. Ironically, across from the museum is a 1926 monument depicting one of the longest held and taught myths about Native people in New York history—that the Lenape (Delaware) sold all of Manhattan to the Dutch.

Dutch colonists were attracted to the region by the bounty of beaver that once lived here, as they used the animals’ pelts to make hats for wealthy patrons back home. In 1626, thinking they were purchasing the land, these colonists gave the Lenape objects such as beads and cloth that were estimated to be worth about $24. However, the Lenape thought that by accepting these gifts, they were permitting the Dutch to share the land and that the Dutch would offer additional gifts to continue to do so. The misunderstanding led to many more between the colonists and the Native people who lived on what they called Manahatta.

In this illustration, graphic novel writer Lee Francis IV (Laguna Pueblo) and illustrator Dale Ray Deforest (Diné) depict the Lenape people’s perspective behind the so-called “sale of Manhattan.” This is one of many illustrated stories featured in the “Native New York” exhibition.

This 1926 monument in Battery Park shows a fanciful scene of the “sale of Manhattan” by the Lenape (Delaware) to Dutch colonists. A gift from the Netherlands, the monument’s inscriptions celebrate friendship between the Dutch and the City of New York but has no mention of Native people. The Indian figure wears a Great Plains–style headdress rather than Lenape clothing.

Photo by NMAI Staff

Long Island / Poospatuck

“Where the Waters Meet”

For thousands of years, the ancestors of the Unkechaug occupied their traditional territories on Long Island. After 1640, English colonists arrived. By 1791 the Unkechaug homeland had been whittled down to the 50-acre Poospatuck Reservation in south-central Long Island, where they live today. Against all odds, the Unkechaug have remained on their ancestral lands.

On the Poospatuck Reservation, the Wampum Magic workshop carries on the Native tradition of shaping local purple quahog clam and white whelk shells into valuable beads called wampum. For centuries, Native people throughout much of North America have used wampum in many ways, such as in ceremonies, to record events, to forge diplomatic relationships.

Here, Chief Harry Wallace (Unkechaug) holds cut quahog clam shells in the Wampum Magic workshop. In the exhibition, visitors can touch shells and see the different stages of making wampum beads and jewelry.

Photo by NMAI Staff

Uses of Wampum

Ornaments. Native people use wampum to adorn their bodies and clothes. Top left: Wendat (Huron) cuff, 1700–1800, Kanesatake Reserve (Oka Reserve), Quebec, Canada. Quahog shell beads, whelk shell beads, hide and cord, 9.5 “ x 6.6 “ x .5”, 16/3828; Bottom right: Wampum bracelet, 2019, Lydia Wallace Chavez (Unkechaug), 9.5” x 3.75”. EP1306

In Ceremony. Bottom left: Lenape (Delaware) ceremonial chief Charlie Elkhair (1854–1935) was the keeper of this white shell Oklahoma Delaware wampum belt, 1800–1850, Oklahoma. Whelk shell beads, hide thong and cordage, 56” x 4” x .5”. 2/1047.

As a Warning. In 1676 Unkechaug leaders presented this purple wampum belt (right), which signaled war, to New York’s first British governor as part of a long negotiation. Soon the governor agreed that the Unkechaug had the right to fish throughout Long Island waters. “Amôtuwôkan,” or “Warning Given in Wampum” (warrior’s belt), replica circa 2005, Lydia Wallace Chavez (Unkechaug), Poospatuck, New York. Quahog shell beads and imitation sinew, 19.5” x 3”. 27/398

An Invitation. Strings of wampum beads like these (middle) were used in diplomatic and trade dealings, especially to invite leaders to important meetings. Oneida wampum strings, 1880–1910, New York. Quahog shell beads, whelk shell beads, twine and wool cloth, 12” x 2” x .8”. 3/1892

Photo by NMAI Staff

Inwood / Shorakapkok

“The Sitting-Down Place”

Clam beds, clearings for cornfields and yearly fish runs made the north end of Manhattan the island’s best place to live. A large Lenape (Delaware) town straddled the Bronx and Manhattan sides of the Harlem River. But when the Dutch and British colonists arrived in the 1600s, they brought war, disease, tax demands and farm animals that destroyed the Lenape’s corn. The Lenape were eventually forced into Canada, Pennsylvania and New Jersey and further west, into Kansas, Ohio and Oklahoma.

Today, “Lenape” refers to the descendants of the many communities that spoke the Munsee and Unami languages. The word Lenape means “the original people.” In the 1700s “Delaware” referred only to Lenape communities along the Delaware River in present-day Pennsylvania and New Jersey. The term “Delaware” now refers to all Lenape people.

This is a one type of pouch the Lenape may have used to carry objects on their journeys. Men’s Lenape (Delaware) shoulder pouch, circa 1860. Oklahoma. Wool cloth, cotton cloth, silk ribbon, glass beads, metal cones and wool yarn, 23” x 27”. 2/7459.

Photo by NMAI Staff

A Lenape woman made this bag of deerskin and decorated it with porcupine quills and dyed deer hair. It once had a shoulder strap. Lenape (Delaware) shoulder bag, 1760–1800, New Jersey. Deerhide, porcupine quills, deer hair, metal cones and dyes, 8.5” x 11” x .5”. 13/5886

Photo by NMAI Staff

Lenape (Delaware) women made moccasins decorated with beads (similar to this pair made by a Shawnee tribal member) as well as dyed porcupine quills and metal cones that would hang from the cuffs and jingle when they walked. Shawnee, purchased by Museum of the American Indian in 1925, hide, silk ribbonwork, glass seed beads, 10.75” x 4.75” x 3.25”. 14/3451

Photo by NMAI Staff

Empire State Building / Tiotenonhsáte

“The Tall House”

In 1886, Mohawk men first learned the trade of ironworking while building a railway bridge on Mohawk land. They continued to work near their communities of Kahnawake, near Montreal in Canada, and Akwesasne, which straddles the U.S.–Canadian border. Then a 1927 court decision ruled that, as citizens of a tribal nation, Mohawks could freely cross the border without Canadian passports to work in the United States.

Many Mohawk and other Native ironworkers “boomed out” and back, traveling nearly 400 miles to New York City during the week and returning to their reservations on weekends. When Interstate 87 opened in 1957, the drive was reduced from 12 hours to six. Soon ironworkers began teaching their new moneymaking skills to sons and other relatives. Many left home to build skyscrapers in Manhattan and elsewhere.

In the exhibition, visitors can look through view scopes at photos of the various structures Mohawk ironworkers helped build, including the Verrazano Bridge, Empire State Building and One World Trade Center. Here Kahnawake Mohawk ironworkers Jay Jacobs and Sparky Rice place a flag on a building in Midtown Manhattan, 1970–1971.

David Grant Noble Photographs, NMAI Archive Center

Left to right: Ironworkers Adam Cross (Kahnawake Mohawk), Peter J. Jacobs (Akwesasne Mohawk), Paul Jacobs (Akwesasne Mohawk), Tommy Herne (Akwesasne Mohawk), Cory Marquis (Kahnawake Mohawk) and Steven Cross (Kahnawake Mohawk).

Composite photo by NMAI Staff

Aurora / Chonodote

“They Grow Peaches There”

The Haudenosaunee Confederacy (Iroquois) was originally made up of five Native nations: the Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca and Mohawk. Haudenosaunee farmers have always been skilled at growing corn, beans and squash. By the late 1700s, some Haudenosaunee towns were famous for their apple and peach orchards.

During the Revolution, Oneida leaders allied with the Americans pleaded with General John Sullivan to spare Haudenosaunee towns. But General George Washington ordered a punitive campaign against Haudenosaunee settlements in western New York. During the summer of 1779, the Clinton-Sullivan campaign destroyed harvests and 40 towns, forcing inhabitants to flee. At Chonodote, or Peach Town, the army burned 1500 peach trees. The Haudenosaunee still call George Washington (above) “Hanadahqoyus,” which means “town destroyer.”

While their towns burned, Cayuga women, children and elders hid near a secluded creek known today as the Great Gully. There, the women’s knowledge of food plants and medicines kept the group alive. Later, many traveled west to the British stronghold at Fort Niagara (present-day Buffalo), where they joined other refugees.

After the Revolutionary War, New York State pressured the Cayuga to give up their lands. By 1807 all their territory had been taken. In 2005, under the leadership of clan mother Bernadette (Birdie) Hill, the Cayuga Nation bought back their peach orchards near the site of Chonodote (above).

Niagara Falls / Niagara

“Thundering Water”

Long ago the Tuscarora lived in the north but moved south to the Carolinas. They returned in 1722 to rejoin their old relations in New York, becoming the sixth nation of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. After the American Revolution, the Tuscarora Nation moved to the lands near Niagara Falls that remain their home today.

Niagara Falls was one of America’s first tourist attractions. Travelers began visiting the massive waterfalls in the early 1800s. For the next 130 years, Tuscarora beadworkers at the falls sold small souvenirs such as beaded pincushions, picture frames, coin purses and miniature horseshoes for good luck.

Matilda Hill (Tuscarora), above with her daughter Norma in 1931, enjoyed a long career and broad recognition as a beadworker.

Detail of a photo by an unknown photographer. Courtesy of the National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution NAA Photo Lot 155, Negative Book II, #35

Tuscarora canoe whimsey, circa 1900, New York. Satin, cardboard, fabric tape, glass beads and cotton thread, 7.75” x 5” x 1”. 21/2987

Photo by NMAI Staff

“Birds of Different Feathers,” 2012, Grant Jonathan (Tuscarora), Brooklyn, New York. Velvet, satin, glass beads, poster board, sawdust, polyester batting, nylon thread and sequins, 9.5” x 11” x 3.75”. 26/9259

Photo by NMAI Staff

By following a wood path, visitors to the "Native New York" exhibition can journey through 12 locations across New York state, from the shores of Long Island through Manhattan to Niagara Falls, as well as view a film in its auditorium. The tales told at these sites through a combination of interactive displays, graphic-novel-style illustrations, unique objects and personal stories span time from before the Revolutionary War through today.

Teaching About Early Encounters

Debunking the myth of the “sale of Manhattan” and other misconceptions about the Indigenous people of New York prompted NMAI to create the “Native New York” exhibition and its accompanying Native Knowledge 360° teaching module, “Early Encounters in Native New York.” This collection of teacher resources enables students to understand what took place in Manhattan and the Lower Hudson Valley between 1609, when English navigator Henry Hudson and his crew sailed through what is now New York Harbor, and the so-called sale of Manhattan.

The lesson aligns with New York state social studies curricula standards for fourth- and fifth-graders. Students can learn through engaging videos, maps and interactive games that they can explore in the classroom or from home.

See americanindian.si.edu/nk360/resources/Native-New-York-Manhattan.

Authors

Anne Bolen

Anne Bolen is executive editor of American Indian magazine.

Why We Serve: Exploring the Legacy of Native Americans in the U.S. Armed Forces

ChampionC — Mon, 05 Oct 2020 15:06:00 +0000

Exhibition

Why We Serve: Exploring the Legacy of Native Americans in the U.S. Armed Forces

From Issue: Fall 2020 / Vol. 21 No. 3

by Alexandra Harris and Mark Hirsch

At first glance, the long tradition of Native American service in the U.S. military doesn’t seem to make sense: why would American Indians fight for a country that broke nearly every promise made to tribal nations? “Why We Serve: Native Americans in the United States Armed Forces,” the new exhibition adapted from the book of the same name from the National Museum of the American Indian, tackles this question while telling engaging stories of Native military service during the last two-and-a-half centuries. As the book’s authors and editors as well as the exhibition’s curators, we encountered unexpected stories and surprising insights while researching this remarkable––some might say, paradoxical—legacy.

“Veterans,” painted by Jesse T. Hummingbird (Cherokee) in 2016, represents the diversity of Native military service through the past two-and-a-half centuries. Acrylic on canvas, 40" x 30" x 1.4". NMAI 26/9780

Photo by NMAI Staff

Naluahine Kaukaopua (on right), age 89, and James Kekahuna (both Native Hawaiian) demonstrate “lua,” a traditional Native Hawaiian martial art. Historically, lua masters were highly respected members of elite armies. On this occasion, Naluahine demonstrated and shared a technique that involved “‘ai” (holds) specific to the Kona area. Kona, Big Island of Hawaii, July 1950.

Photo courtesy of Jerry Walker

General Ulysses S. Grant (fourth from left) and his staff, including Ely S. Parker (second from the right) in the late spring, 1864. At the Confederate surrender at Appomattox, Virginia, in 1865, Parker (Seneca) was the highest-ranking American Indian in the Union army, a lieutenant colonel. As General Grant’s secretary, he drafted the terms of surrender.

Photo by Mathew Brady, National Archives Photo No. 524444

Charlotte Edith Anderson Monture (Six Nations of the Grand River), photographed here in 1919, was the first Native Canadian registered nurse. After Indian Act restrictions prevented her from pursuing training to be a nurse in Canada, she sought this training in the United States. In 1917, at the age of 27, she volunteered for the U.S. Medical Corps and served in a hospital in France, treating soldiers who had been shot or gassed. She was the only Native woman among the 14 Canadian nurses who served in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps during World War I.

Photo Courtesy of John Moses

Ira Hayes was 19 years old when this image was taken in 1943 at the United States Marine Corps Parachute Training School in San Diego, California, where he was dubbed Chief Falling Cloud.

National Archives Photo No. 519164

Corporal Ira Hamilton Hayes (Pima), on the far left, remains one of the best-known American Indians to serve in World War II. In 1945, Hayes was one of six servicemen who raised the American flag during the Battle of Iwo Jima in the South Pacific—a moment captured in a celebrated photograph by Joe Rosenthal.

Photo by Joe Rosenthal; National Archives Photo No. 520748

Harvey Pratt (Cheyenne/Arapaho) holds a Naga knife—a Southeast Asian knife used for cutting through vegetation—during the camouflage and evasion portion of ambush training for his service in Vietnam during 1963.

Photo Courtesy of Harvey Pratt

For Diné (Navajo) people, the Enemy Way ceremony heals and restores balance, or “hózhó,” and counters the negative effects of sustained proximity to death. Both customary practice and contemporary research suggest a correlation between resolving post-traumatic stress and participation in ceremonies connected with warfare and healing. “The Black Pot Drum of the Enemy Way,” by Carl Gorman (Navajo, 1907–1998), 1971.

Photo Courtesy of Zonnie Gorman and the Heard Museum, Phoenix, Arizona

The “Why We Serve” book and exhibition honor the thousands of American Indians, Alaska Natives and Native Hawaiians who have served in the U.S. military in every war from the time of the American Revolution. Additionally, the exhibition—which is available to view on the museum’s website (AmericanIndian.si.edu) and previewed here—features historical and contemporary photographs, artworks and stories that consider the various reasons why so many American Indians have worn the uniform of the United States The stories, whenever possible, are told in the words of Native servicemen and servicewomen from both past and present.

Taken together, each of the 16 narratives in the exhibition chronicle a distinguished but largely unheralded part of Indigenous military history that merits acknowledgment and respect.

No exhibition, particularly one as modest as “Why We Serve,” could fully capture the complexity of this Indigenous legacy. By necessity, we made difficult decisions about what content to include. The stories selected are meant to inspire readers to explore further into Native veterans’ histories.

The exhibition features Native servicemen and servicewomen whom some people might recognize. For example, most people may know about the code talkers, who helped Allied forces achieve victories during World Wars I and II. They might have also heard about Lieutenant Colonel Ely S. Parker (Seneca), the highest-ranking American Indian in the Union Army, and Specialist Lori Piestewa (Hopi), who served in the Iraq war in 2003, when she became the first known female American Indian service member killed in combat.

It also includes lesser-known stories about individuals and events, those that are typically left out of conventional accounts of American military history. For example, the four Lakota nuns who served as nurses during the Spanish– American War and the Alaska Territorial Guard, made up of thousands of Alaska Natives who volunteered to defend their homelands from Japanese invasion during World War II.

We prioritized the representation of Native women in a history that typically focuses on men. “Why We Serve” introduces Polly Cooper (Oneida), who brought food and supplies to starving American soldiers at Valley Forge during the American Revolution. During World War I, Native women supported the Allied cause as nurses and as volunteers for the Red Cross, while Native families purchased some $25 million in war bonds––about $75 worth for every American Indian man, woman and child. During World War II, American Indian women served in a military capacity alongside the roughly 12,000 Native women who worked in war-related industries and the uncounted and unsung “army” of Indigenous women who took over jobs formerly performed by men in reservation communities.

Ultimately, this exhibition challenges and explores deeply held assumptions about Native Americans and military service, particularly the notion that all American Indians embrace tribal warrior traditions that motivate them to join the military. To be sure, many Native nations, particularly those living on the Great Plains in the 1800s, have built social and cultural traditions around warfare and that spirit remains a source of pride today. As “Why We Serve” shows, however, warrior traditions are not shared by all tribes and thus cannot explain why Native people participate in the military at such high rates.

Yet if tribal warrior traditions fail to account for military participation, what does? This question has no single answer. Motivations for military service have varied over time and space and from individual to individual. Indeed, many Native individuals have served for the same reasons as anyone else: to demonstrate patriotism, to uphold family traditions of military service that stretch back for generations or to find a stable job and reliable meals—needs that could not always be met at home. Finally, many were drafted and wound up in uniform because Uncle Sam required them to do so. Woven within these basic reasons for service were the singularly Indigenous influences: protecting one’s homeland and way of life, honoring treaty commitments and practices—by both individuals and their communities—of protection, cleansing and healing.

The NMAI does not seek easy answers to difficult questions but rather strives to provide more complete, nuanced understandings of the Native American experience. That means challenging time-honored assumptions and stereotypes, even those held by Native people. It means providing opportunities for the public to acknowledge and think anew about the role American Indians have played in the history of our nation. In the end, it is our greatest hope that “Why We Serve” meets the challenge the U.S. Congress set for the NMAI first in 1994 and later in 2013 when it passed and then amended the Native American Veterans’ Memorial Establishment Act: to recognize and raise awareness of Native Americans’ extraordinary tradition of service in the U.S. Armed Forces.

See the entire “Why We Serve” exhibition online at AmericanIndian.si.edu beginning in November.

Authors

Alexandra Harris and Mark Hirsch

National Museum of the American Indian Senior Editor Alexandra Harris and Historian Mark Hirsch co-authored the book and curated the exhibition “Why We Serve: Native Americans in the United States Armed Forces.”