About the Author: Samantha Phillips is Tlingit – Kaagwaantaan, Eagle/Brown Bear of Klukwan and grew up in Yakutat. As a young woman she learned of her Tlingit grandmother’s suffering of severe discrimination and mistreatment while attending a residential boarding school. Publicly speaking out about what her grandmother endured served as a powerful lesson to Samantha that Indigenous voices need to be heard. By focusing on making a difference, she has passionately poured her storytelling abilities into various writing pursuits. When she is not writing in her current home in Madison, Alabama, Samantha can be found making memories with her life’s work—her six children.

“I guess the call of the wild was too strong for me,” smiles  Lisa Andersson, a twinkle in her eye.

The call of the wild or the call of her ancestors drew her back home to her birthplace of Hoonah, Alaska. Lisa’s Tlingit mother, Pauline Rudolph, and Swedish father, Sven Andersson, met in Juneau after he arrived on a U.S. Marine ship. Eagerly embracing life in Alaska, Sven married Pauline and settled in Juneau. Summers were spent fishing, their five children in tow. Excursions around Icy Strait included venturing to Glacier Bay, Excursion Inlet, Spasski, Point Adolphus, Flynn Cove, and Lisa’s beloved – Hoonah. About thirty miles west of Juneau on Chichagof Island’s north shore, Hoonah is nestled in the majestic Tongass National Forest.

As a child, Lisa fondly remembers her beachcombing adventures on those fishing trips. Collecting sea stars, sea urchins, Chinese hat snails. Discovering the many creatures of the sea – halibut, flounder, crab. Taking in views of vivid green waters swarming with jellyfish, the beach grass lined coves, the salty ocean air in her lungs. All etched in her memory.

The beautiful land was not the only experience that formed Lisa into the artist and traditional remedy maker she is today. The culture, the people, and a Tlingit concept called Haa Shagóon, were all guiding forces for Lisa. She speaks tenderly of elders who selflessly imparted their knowledge of Tlingit traditions.

“When the elders see you are interested in something, they want to download all they know into you,” Lisa explains. 

When asked about her art, her passion for sharing her Tlingit culture, Lisa is quick to deflect. “It’s not about me. It’s about our culture. Haa Shagóon. Everything we do is from our elders. And what we can leave to our children. Culture bearers, everyone is. What we can take from the past and leave for the future. To hand off the knowledge. The elders taught what was coming down the line. It’s just amazing when I think about it.”

It is apparent that Lisa’s respect for the elders who shaped her runs deep.

The Tlingit are a matrilineal people. So naturally, Lisa was influenced by her grandmother. As a young girl, she was captivated by her grandmother’s sewing room, filled with sparkling beads. Her grandmother would wake up early to bead and sew baby booties to sell at shows. “One day my mom sat my siblings and I down and showed us how to bead these tiny flowers. She said Grandma needed them for her booties.” At the promise of a few dollars the girls enthusiastically beaded. Over forty years later, Lisa found that those little flower patches were not sold at all, but tucked away safely in a little box.

As important as elders are in Tlingit culture, children are also treasured. Haa Shágoon is a concept of revering ancestors and future generations equally. This was illustrated to Lisa through a gift she made for her grandmother. When Lisa’s mother arranged for her grandmother to have photos taken by a professional photographer, Lisa’s grandmother proudly donned the beaded butterfly necklace she had made for her across her forehead like a headband. “It was clearly made by a child,” Lisa laughs.

As grounded as they were in their rich Tlingit culture in Southeast Alaska, Lisa’s family transplanted to her father’s homeland of Sweden when she was nine years old. Lisa says her mom had compassion for her father’s mother, not wanting her to be without her son. So the second half of Lisa’s childhood was immersed in her Swedish roots. She did not do so willingly at first.

“I remember telling my siblings I was not going to learn the Swedish language!” she asserts.

While in Sweden, her father encouraged her to start painting. Since both parents were artists and musicians, they had a habit of thrusting their children into performing or making things. 

“We were like the Von Trapp family!” she recalls. 

Lisa’s mom, an avid gardener, took well to Sweden. Concocting tinctures from wild plants intrigued Lisa. That, along with witnessing her mother make her own regalia in Alaska, both served as inspiration for Lisa’s future endeavors.

At the age of 20, when Lisa returned to Hoonah, the familiar smell of the ocean welcomed her. She took on jobs fishing commercially and as a journeyman painter. She traveled back and forth from Sweden, spending her summers in Hoonah and eventually settled down to stay in 1995. The only one of her siblings to return to Hoonah, Lisa takes time to travel back to her family in Sweden twice a year.

“I love the Swedish culture. Standing in two worlds is not an easy task, although it is definitely enriching,” she says.

“I am home. I am Tlingit/Swedish, I come from two cultures. I live in Alaska because it is who I am, it was who my ancestors were, and it is who my descendants are going to be. Of Alaska.”

Being home for Lisa is a reminder of Haa Shágoon all over again.

Haa Shagóon is a sense of existence, a unity of the past, present, and future. A continuum of past, present, and future circumstances and how we exist in all three simultaneously. How we are today is defined by our past – what we do today – defines our future. It is like being all three at once, our ancestors, ourselves, and our future. A strong sense of being.”         
– Lisa Andersson

Lisa’s work embodies Haa Shagóon. She shares wisdom passed on to her through traditional art and offers traditional healing remedies through her line of Tlingit Botanicals. She welcomes visitors to connect with her rich Tlingit culture by visiting her shop Dei L’e.ann in Hoonah. Visitors can arrive by cruise ship or seaplane, with flights offered by Alaska Seaplanes.

Dei L’e.ann is located at Icy Strait Point, a privately owned cruise port that once served as Hoonah’s fishing cannery. Alongside a museum and other retail shops, Dei L’e.ann showcases Lisa’s art, carefully designed with Tlingit formline and her local salves and beauty treatments. Collections of authentic Indigenous art from Hoonah artisans are also on display. Prints, painted drums, jewelry, accessories and treasures all await the visitor to discover.

Not able to swing into Dei L’e.ann? You can still take home some of Lisa’s art by visiting her online store and her Tlingit Botanicals website.

The U.S. Department of Interior held a listening session in Albuquerque last week to seek comments on proposed changes to the Indian Arts and Crafts Act, which makes it illegal to sell products that falsely suggest they are made by Native Americans.

Fakery is big business with real impacts on Indigenous artisans. In 2019 federal agents charged five men and two businesses in New Mexico for smuggling fake Native American goods from the Philippines and making millions of dollars.

Indigenous art is a large part of the arts and cultural industries in New Mexico, a sector which generates $137 Million dollars in revenue and employs over 43,000 New Mexicans according to the New Mexico Department of Cultural Affairs.

Sheldon Velarde is the director for the Cultural Arts and Heritage for the Jicarilla Apache Nation and is also an artist. As a traditional artist, he makes pottery, baskets, beadwork, moccasins, and dresses. He attended the listening session and says that people try to replicate Native American artwork like his and it affects his tribe.

“I do see some of the imitation artwork around and it does bug you. Some of it has the plastic or especially the jewelry,” he said. 

The Department of Interior is hosting a series of listening sessions and consultations with tribes around the country to update the Indian Arts and Crafts Act to help ensure artisans are fairly compensated. The proposed updates bring more focus to promotional activities, expand the definition of what is “Native American-made” and implement a new trademark to certify that an item is an “Indian Product.”

The certification trademark will be available for Native American artists individually or a business where 50% is at least owned by a Native American.

Velarde says keeping traditions alive is important because they can easily die out, which almost happened in his tribe. If not for the work of several artisans “we wouldn’t be making pottery. But I’m happy because we all have that common goal of passing it down to the next generation.” 

Interior officials expect to issue a draft of the proposed changes in the fall.

The Department of Interior will continue to host listening sessions around the country with the last one in Santa Fe on August 18th during Indian Market.

A recent investigative report reveals questions surrounding the provenance of Native American works gifted to the Metropolitan Museum of Art by prominent donors Charles and Valerie Diker. 

The report, published last week in ProPublica, points out that just 15 percent of the 139 works donated or loaned by the Dikers have “solid or complete ownership histories.” Within the museum’s records, numerous objects have vague ownership details; some don’t have provenance information at all.  

Experts suggest that the absence of these details could mean that pieces in the Diker collection are stolen or fake.  

In 2017, the Dikers, who are among the most prominent collectors of Native American and Indigenous art in North America, gifted 91 objects to the Met. The works ranged in date from the 2nd to the early 20th century, and joined 20 other pieces donated by the couple since 1993.  

At the time of the announcement, a press release from the Met called the Dikers’ collection “the finest and most comprehensive private collection of its kind.” Per the wishes of Charles Diker, an honorary trustee at the institution since 2018, the gifted objects were presented in the museum’s American wing rather than its Art of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas department, as was the practice until that point. 

Valerie and Charles Diker attend the American Federation of Arts 2017 Gala and Cultural Leadership Awards at The Metropolitan Club on October 26, 2017 in New York City. Photo: Sylvain Gaboury/Patrick McMullan via Getty Images.

The majority of works from the couple’s donations, including paintings, textiles, and ceramics, are on view now in a dedicated exhibition at the museum called “Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection.” When the show opened in June of last year, it was accompanied by a statement from the museum that vowed to maintain “ongoing relationships with contemporary Native American and Indigenous artists.” 

“We understand that these items—vibrant expressions of Native sovereignty, identity, and connections to community and family—embody intergenerational and environmental knowledge, including origin stories, languages, songs, dances, and ties to homelands,” the statement went on.  

“We commit to pursuing continuous collaborations with Indigenous communities and to presenting Native American art in a manner that is inclusive of Indigenous perspectives, involves guidance from source communities, and creates space for respectful listening and thoughtful dialogue.” 

Still, the show has drawn criticisms from members of tribes with ancestral ties to the material on view. Some have called out the institution for presenting ceremonial or funerary objects in an artistic context; others, like Shannon O’Loughlin, the executive director of the Association on American Indian Affairs, have claimed the museum “did not consult with affiliated tribal representatives” before mounting the show.  

ProPublica came to a similar conclusion. For years, the Met has “failed to consult the necessary tribal officials in a timely and consistent manner about objects in its collections,” the report said.  

If true, the Met is in violation of 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, which requires federally funded institutions to consult tribes and lineal descendants when they acquire human remains, funerary objects, and other cultural items. 

“Our collecting practice for over 50 years has always centered on proceeding carefully, assessing all available information relating to provenance before acquiring a work, and welcoming new information should it come to light,” the Dikers told ProPublica in a statement. 

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