Native

Alaska Federation of Natives Convention gets underway in downtown Anchorage

Alaska Federation of Natives Convention gets underway in downtown Anchorage

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – Alaska Natives from every corner of the state are at the Dena’ina Center in downtown Anchorage for the Thursday start of the Alaska Federation of Natives Convention. It’s a time for people to renew connections and visit with friends as well as address important issues of public policy and government.

This year’s theme is “Our Ways of Life” but according to AFN Co-chair Joe Nelson, it’s more of a call to defend traditional ways of life.

“We are always in the courts over all kinds of things so we just have to continually be advocating to protect our way of life for the next generations,” Nelson said.

Nelson said the convention strives for unity, to address issues important to Alaska Natives with a single strong voice.

This year delegates to the convention will consider adopting 29 resolutions. Several deal with subsistence, including one sponsored by the AFN board that asks Congress “to permanently protect the right of Alaska Native people to engage in subsistence fishing in Alaska’s navigable waters.” Nelson said some or all of the resolutions will likely be adopted after a lengthy debate on Saturday.

The conference isn’t just about advocating for Native rights, it’s also about commerce. The Alaska Native Customary Art Fair boasts one of the largest gatherings of Alaska Native artists in the state. Nelson said the income generated from the art fair is an important boost for artists and urged people to shop for the holidays so artists didn’t have any inventory left to take home.

The AFN Convention runs from Oct. 19-21. It is free and open to the public at the Dena’ina Center in downtown Anchorage. The Customary Art Fair is open from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. on Thursday and Friday and 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Saturday.

Alaska Native Artist Spotlight: Bailey McCallson (Yup’ik)

Alaska Native Artist Spotlight: Bailey McCallson (Yup’ik)

About the Author: Mary Goddard is Tlingit, Kaagwaantaan, Eagle/Brown Bear of Klukwan and grew up in Yakutat. She resides in Sitka with her husband and son, creating Tlingit formline designs for her original carved jewelry, public art installations, and more. She runs a film company and an Indigenous cooking blog. Mary has served as Southeast Alaska’s Regional Catalyst for Regenerative Tourism as well continuing to serve on the board of the American Indian and Alaska Native Tourism Association.

“Buying jewelry and sculptures made from Walrus ivory is sustainable. Your purchase supports our communities and ensures the continuation of our culture.” Bailey McCallson, a Yup’ik ivory artist, shares this with absolute certainty.

Bailey is from Bethel, a Southwestern village on the Kuskokwim River, roughly 400 miles west of Anchorage. The majority of Bethel’s nearly 6,000 residents are Alaska Native. It is home to the Kuskokwim 300 Dog Sled Race and the Camai Yup’ik Dance Festival. 

As an ivory artist, Bailey understands that oftentimes visitors are confused by ivory items for sale when they are visiting Alaska. This is due to the bans on elephant ivory. Walrus Ivory is protected through the Marine Mammal Protection Act. It is legal only for Alaska Natives to hunt walrus and to utilize their tusks. Once the ivory is crafted into artwork such as sculptures or jewelry can it be purchased by non-Alaska Natives. 

Bailey’s Yup’ik culture relies heavily on the sustenance of walrus. “We use everything. Nothing goes to waste, down to the whiskers and even the lining of the walrus stomach.” Unfortunately ivory got a bad rap because of elephant poaching and the bans on ivory. However, for Yup’iks, walrus hunting is not trophy hunting.

Although Bailey is a hunter, he purchases ivory from other Alaska Native hunters. “I like supporting them. No one asks for much for the ivory, just enough to fill their gas tank so they can hunt again.” For Bailey, carving ivory, like his ancestors did, connects him to his culture. He finds himself researching his culture, listening intently to shared Yup’ik stories and songs from elders, hungry to learn more about his Yup’ik heritage. “It’s exciting! I can learn these stories and carve them into ivory sculptures. This is my way of carrying on our traditions. It’s a way for me to connect to my identity.”

Alaska Native artist Bailey McCallson with walrus skull
Photo Credit: Mary Goddard Mary Goddard for Midnight Run, LLC

Bailey is an enthusiastic artist. His eyes light up when he talks about ivory. He laughs a lot, and tells me it hasn’t always been that way for him. Growing up in a rural, flat and often cold village in Western Alaska had its struggles.  

While we are talking, Bailey’s dad walks in. He is a gregarious man, big voice and tall. He clearly is proud of his son. “When Bailey was 8 years old he was out camping in the Tundra. By himself!” he laughs in amazement. “It was below zero and that didn’t bother Bailey at all. He told me, ‘Dad, I will be fine. I have my sleeping bag and everything I need.’ And he went camping, all by himself.” He shakes his head, and then as quickly as he entered the workshop, Bailey’s father is off. 

Bailey smiles and lets me know, nothing has changed. He still loves the outdoors. He has no problem camping, hiking, boating, and hunting; no matter the weather. Bethel’s subarctic climate means long winters and short summers. Temperatures in Bethel stay in the single digits in winter and rarely get warmer than 60 degrees in the summer months. 

“If you don’t stay busy and occupied, you can easily get depressed. I have made up my mind to be positive. To chase after my dreams.” Bailey could easily be a motivational speaker. Young, but with years of wisdom. He is someone you want to keep listening to. He is real and genuine and full of curiosity for life. He seems to be the type of person with no end to energy, which is funny to me because he shares with us a Yup’ik word; Tuaingunrituq, which means there is no end. (I immediately connect this word to Bailey, wondering how his energy never ends!) He connects this to the ivory. Bailey shares that when you respect an animal by not wasting any of it, this is keeping the story alive for the animal, so that it too can have no end. The story goes on. Tuaingunrituq.

Bailey switches to talk about flying and his goals of becoming a commercial pilot. His eyes light up again. I can tell, carving ivory and flying airplanes, they are equal loves, the source of Bailey’s energy. He circles back around to the challenges of living in Bethel, explaining that flying has allowed him a new perspective. Having a bird’s eye view, he can witness how big and vast Alaska actually is. His eyes are open to opportunities and the beauty of this place. He shares that both flying and being connected to his culture keep him grounded. He sees the value of passing on the art of ivory carving to Yup’ik youth. “I want to teach this to others. I want our youth to succeed.”

Alaska Native artist Bailey McCallson in front of a plane
Photo Credit: Mary Goddard Mary Goddard for Midnight Run, LLC

Bailey teaches me, teaches us, step by step how he takes a walrus tusk and cuts it into workable chunks. He shows how he sketches on the ivory, how he glues, sands and files the ivory until it is recognizable as a piece of jewelry. The process takes a couple of hours. Self-taught and taking inspiration by carvings done by other artists, Bailey has been creating jewelry in his shop for four years. 

We turn off the camera and lights and begin packing up, our time with Bailey is about to come to an end.  Bailey gives the ivory earrings a slight polish and hands them to me. As a gift. They are beautiful, smooth to the touch, a creamy white and are in the shape of the infinite symbol. I can’t help but smile.

Ivory carvings by Bailey McCallson
Photo Credit: Mary Goddard Mary Goddard for Midnight Run, LLC

Tuaingunrituqv. (There is no end)

I know Bailey’s story will not end, it is and will be carried on through his jewelry, his ivory art. 

Want to learn more about Bailey? Watch the artist spotlight video of Bailey below. Shop for jewelry made by Bailey at Alaska gift shops or from his Instagram store, @tuskworthy_premiums. 

Blackfeet artists prepare for “Within” installation at Paris Gibson Square

Blackfeet artists prepare for “Within” installation at Paris Gibson Square

GREAT FALLS — A new installation at the Paris Gibson Square Museum of Art is drawn from the artists’ belief that the strength and success of Native American identity and culture is internally inherited and created inside of their communities.

John Isaiah Pepion and Louis Still Smoking are hard at work, collaborating on the installation. From ledger art to buffalo hides to oils and 3D artwork, “Within” tells a story of trauma and triumph.

“The show will tackle where we’re at as Blackfeet people now as a Blackfeet artists in 2023,” said Pepion. “It covers a lot of issues, kind of like just digging deep within ourselves and our community and where we’re from.”

Pepion has gained recognition for his ledger art. He also did the poster art for the recently released PBS documentary, “The American Buffalo.” Now, he’s teamed up with fellow Blackfeet artist Louis Still Smoking. Their installation titled “Within” opens Friday at Paris Gibson Square Muesum of Art.

Among Still Smoking’s specialties are portraitures mixed with cultural symbolism and historical references. For him, art is about engaging and connecting with a viewer.

“It’s bridging that gap from not knowing something to actually experiencing a culture that you normally wouldn’t be experienced to,” said Still Smoking.

within louis still smoking.jpg

He’ll have a work in progress on display. The yet to be titled painting is a commentary on a difficult time for the Blackfeet people, the boarding school era. But Still Smoking wants to focus on the positive.

“It’s a bad part of history, but I’m trying to paint it in a way that’s a positive message,” said Still Smoking. “Basically, I’m just saying I’m thankful to be here to paint something like that. I want to honor my ancestors.”

Pepion is paying tribute to the buffalo by painting a hide.

“So the yellow on this buffalo hide represents the sun,” said Pepion. “The sun is very important to Blackfeet people. We call the Sun Naato’si. Then cross the king symbol is Morning Star, a very important symbol. We believe that the sun married the moon and Morning Star is their son.”

Pepion says art can highlight the struggles of the past, but also act as a healer, both for his people and himself.

“As an artist, I feel like I’m playing my part,” said Pepion. “I feel like art is therapy and can heal, too. It’s healing myself from a journey through diabetes and just my personal life. So art is therapy.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve worked together. Last year they collaborated on an Arts Fest Montana Mural. And Still Smoking Completed a mural for the program this summer.

within John Isaiah Pepion.jpg

The installation is curated by Paris Gibson Square Curator of Exhibitions and Collections Nicole Maria Evans and will be accompanied by a series of free and open events.

The installation opens Friday and will feature a reception and discussion on Thursday, October 26 at 5:30 p.m.

On Friday, November 17 at 5:30 p.m., a program by Jennifer Woodcock-Medicine title “hiding in Plain Sight: Expanding the Canvas” will be held.

On Friday, December 8 at 5:30 p.m., Sean Chandler, President of Aaniiih Nakoda College on the Fort Belknap Indian Reservation, will present a program title “indigenous Education for No One.”

You can learn more about the museum and the installation and companion events here.


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Seattle company’s blanket featured alongside Leonardo DiCaprio, Lily Gladstone in ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ cover story

Seattle company’s blanket featured alongside Leonardo DiCaprio, Lily Gladstone in ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ cover story

Leonardo DiCaprio and Lily Gladstone were draped in the Seattle company’s blanket on the front page of British Vogue’s magazine.

SEATTLE — Colleen Echohawk remembers the day well. She woke up at 6:30 a.m., her phone pinging with alerts and texts after British Vogue featured “Killers of the Flower Moon” stars Leonardo DiCaprio and Lily Gladstone, draped in the Seattle-based company’s blanket on its front page of the magazine. 

Echohawk, the CEO of Eighth Generation, knew the international magazine was going to feature a product in its magazine months in advance, but she didn’t know it would adorn the front page alongside the two stars of director Martin Scorcese’s sweeping adaptation of David Grann’s novel, which was published in 2017. 

“Oh my God,” Echohawk said. “It was emotional. I was in bed at 6:30 a.m. and started getting pings. We knew it was on there, but we didn’t know (the blanket would be on the cover). A good quarter of the magazine was that blanket. I was just – chills. It brought tears to my eyes. To think about the importance of seeing American art and design displayed in such a beautiful and international publication. Stunning. How did this happen?”

On the magazine’s cover, Gladstone, playing Mollie Burkhart in the film releasing on Friday, has Eighth Generation’s Coast Salish Pattern Wool Blanket draped along her body. 

Gladstone, a rising Hollywood star, was a graduate of Mountlake Terrace High School.

“That Coast Salish pattern is one of the most iconic American designs you can actually buy in a retail store or online,” Echohawk said. “It is an absolutely classic blanket. It’s black and grey and wool. It has this wonderful feel to it, but it’s also iconic in that American art and design is shaped by Native art and design. Real American art and design is Native American  art and design so we think this blanket is so popular with so many people is that it gives off that vibe of authenticity of a Native product that people can put into their home.”

The blanket’s design was created by Louie Gong (Nooksack) after he researched traditional Coast Salish weaving techniques. He referred to the pattern as a “collaboration with the ancestors.”

Gong created and founded Eighth Generation in 2008, before paving the way for Echohawk to take over as CEO in 2022. 

Echohawk said the geometric shapes in the blanket’s pattern and its flow give off a feeling of elegance. She said Eighth Generation uses the same pattern in the blanket on tote bags, hip bags and used to offer the design on tumblers. 

“As someone who lives in Seattle, it’s important for me to have a Coast Salish design as part of my life and part of the way I’m going to decorate my home,” Echohawk said. “There’s just not a lot of Coast Salish designs that are so readily available. And it’s just so beautiful. It’s a beautiful pattern. It’s one of the design patterns that works on everything.” 

British Vogue also featured Eighth Generation’s Butterfly Dreams Throw Blanket, designed by John Isaiah Pepion, in its cover story for the upcoming film. The issue was released in Europe on Sept. 26 and in the United States in October.

“It felt like this full circle moment of this incredible Seattle story being featured and a Coast Salish story,” Echohawk said. “And a Native story being featured in such an incredible international publication. I think it’s time for that. The Native community has gone through so many hard things. I feel very lucky that my ancestors survived so I could be here. Now we are seeing this incredible recognition of how beautiful Native art and design is. I was emotional when it all happened.”

“Killers of the Flower Moon” is set in the 1920s when the members of the Osage Native American tribe of Osage County, Oklahoma were murdered after oil was found on their land. 

The Native tribe members immediately became among the richest people in the world because of the amount of oil deposits found on their land. When young and healthy people started dying under suspicious circumstances, the American government created an agency called the Federal Bureau of Investigation, also known as the FBI, to investigate the mounting deaths in the area. 

“(The film) is really elevating some of the historical harm that has happened to Native people because of the way people thought about Native folks,” Echohawk said. “We were thought of less than and dispensable. They were killing people. We were talked about as savages, as animals and not human. I think having these stories out there where we are saying to the larger community, ‘No this terrible atrocity happened.’ Now we are on the other side of it. We are leading the community. We are business leaders. We are showing the rest of the community how to respond to the climate crisis. We’re acting next to Leonard DiCaprio. That’s where we are heading as a Native American community.”

Echohawk, who is from the Pawnee tribe in Oklahoma, said her dad and other relatives were involved as extras in the blockbuster film, which is widely regarded as one of the leading contenders in the 2024 Oscars. 

“I’m hoping to see my dad and other relatives as extras,” Echohawk said. “It’s really exciting.”

Before collaborating with British Vogue, Eighth Generation made blankets for the 2022 Marvel film “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.” The film, which grossed over $850 million worldwide, won the Oscar for Best Costume Design in March. 

“It has been a huge win for us to be on the cover of British Vogue and to be able to make the blankets and to really merge our business in the mainstream,” Echohawk said. “We want to de-colonize these spaces, work with these big businesses while we help them understand how to (de-colonize) in a better way.”

Over a decade after its founding, Echohawk said Eighth Generation is the first Native-owned company to ever produce wool blankets. The company has a 30,000-square-foot warehouse in Georgetown and a flagship store at Pike Place Market, as it looks to broaden from its Pacific Northwest roots and across the globe. 

But it’s Eighth Generation’s ethos that inspired Echohawk, who spent decades as an advocate for the Native community, to take a leadership role in the company.

Echohawk said the company’s mission is to reclaim Native art after it was “co-opted” for decades by companies profiting off their work. That’s why Eighth Generation vets its prospective artists to ensure they are members of a tribe before collaborating.

“We want people to know that these are products made and designed by Native people and they are for everyone,” Echohawk said. “We believe that every home in America should have Native art and design in it because we live in a Native country. We invite everyone to think about it, hear the stories we are telling and be a part of this really exciting moment in history where Native art is being profiled and people are excited about it. We believe real American art and design is Native art and design.”

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Native America

Native America

Tuesday, October 24 at 9

Season 2 of Native America is a groundbreaking portrait of contemporary Indian Country. Building on the success of the first season, this four-part Native directed series reveals the beauty and power of today’s Indigenous world. Smashing stereotypes, it follows the brilliant engineers, bold politicians, and cutting-edge artists who draw upon Native tradition to build a better 21st century.

About NATIVE AMERICA
Smashing stereotypes, Season 2 follows the brilliant engineers, bold politicians, and cutting-edge artists who draw upon Native tradition to build a better 21st century.

Each hour brings a core tenet of Native heritage to life through contemporary stories of the here and now. “New Worlds” reveals the power of Indigenous art and engineering, and the musicians, astronauts, and builders who are constructing a better, Native-led, tomorrow. “Language is Life” explores how Native languages and communication have fueled the Indigenous soul since time immemorial. It uncovers the remarkable linguistic revitalization taking place through the dubbing of Hollywood blockbusters into Native languages, and the use of state-of-the-art technology to recover secret inscriptions that were once lost to time.

“Women Rule” showcases the diverse ways women lead across Indian Country, from state houses to the front lines of the environmental movements saving our planet. And “Warrior Spirit” uncovers how the long legacy of Native resilience lives on, both in a proud tradition of contemporary Native military service, and in world-leading feats of athleticism. It reveals a powerful Native drive to represent their communities, through going for gold in championship boxing, risking it all in Indian Horse Relay races, and honoring heroes of the past who laid down their lives to fight colonial oppression over 300 years ago.

These thematic episodes are filled with inspiring stories of Native resilience, resistance, and revival. They uncover the active dialogue between past and present that powers Native America as it enters the 21st century. And they showcase the foundational beliefs and traditions that Native Americans are carrying forward to this day, even as they live fully modern lives.

Native America was produced by a team with Native leadership at every level, created through active input from Native American participants and communities, and filmed by Emmy-award winning cinematographers. These aspects combine to create a depth of access and sense of up-close intimacy that is rarely seen on television. It is a series that was designed from the ground up to illustrate how, from the halls of Congress to the surface of Mars, the future is Native.

Local artist Bill Strobel represents the past and present with a new-look Eagles wing wall

Local artist Bill Strobel represents the past and present with a new-look Eagles wing wall

Before last year’s Super Bowl, artist Bill Strobel created a Jalen Hurts mural at Brown and Corinthian Streets in Fairmount, a project he took on himself. Now, Strobel is being commissioned by the Eagles to design the wing wall in Lincoln Financial Field’s Pepsi Plaza for Sunday’s Kelly Green game.

“It is just a small part of the Kelly Green rollout, but it is super cool to be doing this,” Strobel said.

Strobel has art featured inside the stadium’s Hyundai and Tork Club levels and the Pro Shop, as well as around the city. It was his Hurts mural that he painted last February that gained him traction with the fan base and organization.

The Camden, New Jersey native created the mural on his street corner by the Eastern State Penitentiary.

“I did it because I wanted to,” Strobel said. “It was a lot of fun and I received great feedback. It was almost like a little pilgrimage to help people heal from the loss.”

After the season, Strobel invited his neighbors and Eagles fans to write messages of thanks and support in chalk on the mural.

Fans thanked the quarterback for everything he did and congratulated him on a successful season.

Native perspectives on Indigenous Peoples’ Day

Native perspectives on Indigenous Peoples’ Day

Indigenous Peoples’ Day—celebrated on Oct. 9—is “a day to celebrate who Indigenous people are,” said artist and business-owner Rebecca Kirk (Klamath and Leech Lake Ojibwe). “There was a time when we weren’t able to celebrate or practice our traditional customs, but now we’re able to and that’s a really beautiful thing,” Kirk said. 

Kirk—owner of Resting Warrior Face Apparel—creates original artwork, accessories, clothing and handmade jewelry. Kirk was one of many Native vendors who gathered on Oct. 9 to form the Portland Indigenous Marketplace at the Portland State Native American Student and Community Center (PSU-NASCC).

Another vendor present there was Zani Nevayaktewa (Hopi), co-owner of a family-owned business called RRB Native, which sells handmade jewelry and specializes in beadwork, silver and gemstone adornments. 

“[Indigenous Peoples’ Day] is very important—especially for my children—because growing up I didn’t get to have very much of that recognition, like seeing that in our schools or in the media,” Nevayaktewa said.

“For me, every day is a Indigenous’ Peoples Day, as weird as that sounds—just because of the nature of the work I do,” said Dr. Kali Simmons (Oglala Lakota), assistant professor of Indigenous Nations studies at PSU. “But it’s nice to have a federally-recognized day that invites people to hopefully educate themselves about Indigenous people more broadly… and to make connections with Indigenous people in their local community, and think about who are the traditional people of the lands that you’re living on.” 

The Portland Indigenous Marketplace is one such opportunity for connection. This event is held in various locations around the Portland area and will return to PSU-NASCC on Nov. 24–26. 

Lluvia Merello (Quechua, Andean/Inca)is the founder of Portland Indigenous Marketplace. Merello organized this community of Indigenous and Black artisans in order to support “Indigenous artists and entrepreneurs by providing barrier-free, culturally respectful spaces that encourage cultural resilience and economic sustainability.”

The marketplace relies primarily on grants, donations and volunteers to maintain itself. There is no fee for artisans to sell, but vendors must meet two requirements. First, they must offer handmade products. Second, “if you’re making culturally specific items, we really are very specific that you have to be from that culture,” Merello said. “For us it’s important that you know where your Indigeneity comes from.”

“When I went to other events that weren’t culturally specific, I would maybe be the only one of two vendors that were Indigenous or even people of color at events,” Merello said. “It was really a night-and-day experience… when I was having a better time at an event and felt supported and in community.”

Merello began organizing the marketplace in response to a lack of entrepreneurial opportunities for Indigenous communities in Portland. “Before [COVID-19], there were probably 12–14 annual events that local Native artists could count on happening every year… and I was like, ‘That’s not enough…’” Merello said. “Folks really are trying to build a business and they just need more exposure.”

Aside from the marketplace, Portland has other opportunities to engage with Native histories and cultures. For example, PSU-NASCC organizes various festive and educational events every year. As Native American Heritage Month approaches, the PSU Indigenous Nations studies department has collaborated with two local theaters to host Native-centric film screening events. The first of these on Oct. 23 will feature the 2023 historical drama Killers of the Flower Moon, followed by the horror-thriller film Clearcut on Nov. 4.

Additionally, the Center for Native Arts and Culture in Southeast Portland hosts workshops, artist talks and exhibition spaces “to strengthen Native communities and promote positive social change with American Indian, Native Hawaiian and Alaska Native peoples in the United States,” according to its website. 

This center represents one of many instances in which stolen land has been returned to Native ownership, fulfilling the LandBack movement. Initially owned by Yale Union, the $5.36 million building was donated to the Native Arts and Culture Foundation in 2020. This movement is not metaphorical, theoretical or unprecedented.

“It is the reclamation of everything stolen from the original peoples: land, language, ceremony, food, education, housing, healthcare, governance, medicines, kinship,” the official LandBack manifesto states.

While this type of reconciliation is still hindered by performative land acknowledgments, unfulfilled treaties and hollow apologies, the LandBack movement continues to gain ground. It represents a materialization of support and respect for Native Nations and Native sovereignty. 

“If you are a settler and you have large tracts of land—especially if that land is located near traditional food sites, traditional sacred sites, places like that—how can you make those spaces available to the communities who traditionally do ceremonies or collect food or collect medicines there?” Simmons said.

“When we talk about LandBack, the first thing that people think about is ‘my private land’, which we are talking about, but actually the preponderance of public lands are owned by places like the Bureau of Land Management,” Simmons said.

“In Oregon, there’s lots of public lands managed by the Bureau of Land Management that could perhaps instead be returned to the ownership of tribes so that they could have stewardship over it instead,” Simmons said. “Currently the Pacific Northwest has 16.1 million acres of public lands that are managed by [the Bureau.] And so, hey, let’s start there.” 

Here in Portland, many opportunities exist to redistribute resources more equitably to Indigenous communities. For example, at PSU equitable funding does not even reach students who are Native to the land on which the university stands. 

“I think every PSU student who is aware of our land acknowledgment and aware that we resided on the traditional homelands of the Chinook people should be supporting the Chinook’s efforts to reclaim their federal recognition status,” Simmons said.

“A significant thing that’s impacting them at PSU is that they don’t qualify for the Oregon Tribal Grant,” Simmons said. “And so even though we’re literally on their homelands, and we’re offering federal benefits to other Indigenous students here, we are not offering federal benefits to them.” 

The U.S. as a whole has much work to do in reconciling the long histories of violence against Indigenous peoples of this land. Settler colonialism imposes even on Indigenous Peoples’ Day itself, considering it is still recognized by many states and on the federal level as Columbus day. 

“I feel like there are better Italian American heroes that we could have a day [named] after than Christopher Columbus—who not only instituted a regime of genocidal violence that this continent hadn’t seen before, but that also was deeply involved in the slave trade,” Simmons said. “I also think about this as a day of solidarity too between Indigenous peoples across the globe. There are Indigenous peoples currently engaged in collective struggles for sovereignty across the world, and these problems share an origin. And we have to remember there are Afro-Indigenous people domestically and globally. The Columbus/Indigenous Peoples Day dynamic invites us to think about how these anti-colonial struggles are interconnected.”

“There is such an overrepresentation of a lot of western heroes,” Simmons said. “There isn’t a lot of mainstream representation of prominent Native people that did cool stuff. Like, you could probably rattle off a list of 50 famous white, Euro-American men. And then when it came to listing prominent Indigenous people, that would be a harder list for people to compose.”  

“Equity can feel like discrimination for some people, when we’re saying, ‘Hey, let’s level the playing field and give equal representation to different communities,’” Simmons said.

“There is a long, beautiful history before Columbus or colonizers, and when we don’t include that history we’re totally erasing it,” Merello said. “We’re saying history started 500 years ago. That’s not even right.”

Settlers educating themselves about the histories and present realities of Native Nations is necessary for their proper recognition and acknowledgment. Unfortunately, mainstream education and media institutions across the U.S. largely fail to center Native perspectives to adequate degrees.

Simmons teaches a class called Intro to Native Studies. This class addresses the histories of Native Nations specific to Oregon and their forced removals, the current legal statuses of Tribal Nations and reservation lands and the abuse and murder of Native children in federally-mandated boarding schools. 

Simmons conducts polls to gauge if the course content is new or familiar to students. “A lot of students reported that all of the content that I bring week to week is brand new,” Simmons said. “And that has been my experience as long as I’ve been teaching this class.”

“So there’s definitely more that can be done to integrate a really honest engagement with the history of colonization in education,” Simmons said. “Because I think a lot about like, ‘When will I stop experiencing this?’ When will I come into class and I’ll have these first three lectures and most students will be like, ‘Oh, yeah, I know all this stuff. I learned it in high school. I learned it in middle school. I learned it in elementary school…’ What would the world look like if that started to happen? Would other policies change?”

Native Americans should not have to shoulder the burden of curing non-natives’ ignorance either. “I was always called out in school for being the only Native in the classroom, and having [this] expectation from my teacher and others,” Nevayaktewa said. “That because I’m Native I know everything about all Native cultures—which is never true, because I only knew about my own tribe, and that was it. So I feel like definitely reading up on Indigenous cultures—especially in whatever state or region you’re in—learning about those local tribes [is important].”

There are many ways to celebrate and honor Indigenous Peoples’ Day. Education is undoubtedly the foundation for progress, but a partially recognized holiday must materialize as more than a gesture to truly decolonize this land.

A Visionary Brazilian Artist Is Rediscovered

A Visionary Brazilian Artist Is Rediscovered
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A wave of new interest in the artist of Indigenous descent known as Chico shines a light on his dreamlike paintings of animals and the issues of authorship and autonomy that affected his life.

This article is part of the Fine Arts & Exhibits special section on the art world’s expanded view of what art is and who can make it.


Francisco da Silva was one of the first Brazilian artists of Indigenous descent to achieve international fame. In the 1960s, his paintings of fantastical storybook creatures, interlocked in animated combat and hallucinatory fields of brilliant color and pattern, grew to be wildly popular in Brazil and beyond. One even decorated the cover of the telephone book in Fortaleza where the artist — known simply as Chico — lived and established a pioneering and controversial collective studio practice.

By the time of his death in 1985 from alcoholism, Chico was destitute and dismissed by the art world, which had raised him up for his unique “primitive” vision only to then question the authenticity of his work. Now, a new wave of interest and scholarship is reassessing Chico’s work and revisiting questions of authorship, autonomy and exoticizing that surrounded his story.

On Oct. 27, the first major solo show in New York of his work opens at the David Kordansky Gallery, with some 25 paintings and works on paper from the 1960s and early 70s. This follows a Chico presentation last year at the Independent art fair in New York by the São Paulo gallery Galatea, and the artist’s largest survey exhibition ever, “Chico da Silva and the Pirambu Studio,” on view this spring at the Pinacoteca de São Paulo and through Oct. 29 at the Pinacoteca do Ceará in Fortaleza.

“As the art world begins to widen its eyes to indigeneity,” said Mr. Kordansky, “we want to bring widespread attention to the work and legacy of Chico da Silva who, in the most visionary manner, paved the way for a new generation of Indigenous artists starting to come up in Brazil.”

Contemporary Brazilian Indigenous artists including Denilson Baniwa and Jaider Esbell have specifically cited the influence of Chico’s work. Mr. Esbell took his own life at 41 in 2021, while his work was being featured in the São Paulo Biennial.

Another “Untitled” by Chico, this one from 1966.Ding Musa, via David Kordansky Gallery

Graham Steele, a dealer and collector, said the tragic circumstances surrounding the final years of the two artists deserve more scrutiny. “This idea of another Indigenous artist who died because of similar pressures, there is so much to be learned from Chico’s story and how these artists are used in a way,” said Mr. Steele, who with the dealer Alexandra Mollof co-organized the Kordansky show in Manhattan, on view through Dec. 16.

According to the catalog accompanying the survey exhibition, Chico was born in 1910 (though it may have been as late as 1922-23) to an Indigenous Peruvian father and mother from Ceará in northeastern Brazil and spent his youth in the Amazon forest. As a child, he would accompany his father, a boatman, on the river, where the rampant flora and fauna would fuel his artistic imagination.

After his father’s death from a rattlesnake bite, Chico eventually moved with his mother to Fortaleza. There, the self-taught artist began his practice of painting birds on the exterior walls of fishermen’s houses using charcoal, chalk and crushed organic matter as pigment.

In 1943, the art critic and artist Jean-Pierre Chabloz, an émigré from Switzerland, saw one of the murals and sought out its maker. Striking up a friendship, Mr. Chabloz began supplying Chico with painting materials and canvases. His stylized menagerie of dragons, serpents, fish and fowl, rendered in dizzying pointillist constellations, proliferated over the next few years. The critic went on to exhibit and sell these works to collectors in Rio, São Paulo and European cities.

Promoting Chico’s work in art journals, Mr. Chabloz described him as “gloriously primitive, divinely illiterate and, above all, a wonderful artist who, until then, lacked nothing but a favorable opportunity to reveal his extraordinary gifts.”

For a white European man of that era, Ms. Mollof credits Mr. Chabloz with a certain open-mindedness. “His eye sees the singularity and the power of Chico’s work and I think Chabloz goes out of his way to really champion the work,” she said. “Of course, he profits from it as well at some point.”

To Mr. Steele, Mr. Chabloz was as much Chico’s colonizer as his champion. “When you think of the dialogues around the ‘noble savage’ and modernists looking at someone who comes from the outside for purity of expression,” he said, “this massive appreciation is very much a double-edged sword. It’s putting Chico into a box.”

From 1948 to 1960, Mr. Chabloz went back to Europe and Chico lacked the resources to produce much. His practice gained steam again when Mr. Chabloz returned to Brazil and found Chico a job in 1961 in the art museum at the Federal University of Ceará, where he received a salary and painted some 40 canvases for the institution over three years. Mr. Chabloz also introduced Chico to his first dealer, Henrique Bluhm.

With more demand for his work, Chico began to train assistants and students from the favela of Pirambu in Fortaleza to paint in his style. At this time, Chico’s work attracted the attention of the art historian and critic Clarival do Prado Valladares, who included him in a group show on naïve art at the Brazilian pavilion of the Venice Biennale in 1966. Chico also participated in the 1967 São Paulo Biennial.

The Pirambu Studio, as Chico’s workshop was called, came to be a local phenomenon — and a target of criticism. Chico’s paintings were sold on the streets in local markets and hung in houses all over the region. In a 1969 article in “O Povo,” Mr. Chabloz publicly broke with Chico, saying the studio production had diluted the power of his work and devalued its worth. The pushback from the art establishment coincided with Chico’s heavy drinking and hospitalizations in mental institutions into the 1970s from which he never fully recovered.

Alongside Chico’s work, the current survey show in Brazil showcases works by the five principal apprentices he worked with collectively, who went by the names Chica (Chico’s daughter, Francisca), Babá, Ivan, Garcia and Claudionor — and each eventually developed independent art practices with their own signed works.

A new wave of interest and scholarship is reassessing the work of the artist Chico, shown here in 1972 holding up one of his paintings, and revisiting questions of authorship, autonomy and exoticizing that surrounded his life story.via David Kordansky Gallery

“The discussion that was dominating the review of Chico da Silva’s work was always centered around this idea of if it’s an original or not,” said Jochen Volz, director of the Pinacoteca de São Paulo. “It’s much more interesting to think that he created a certain economy within the neighborhood of Fortaleza, where people would travel to see paintings of fantastic animals. It was part of the collective imagination.”

The Brazilian curator Keyna Eleison, who grew up in Rio and often encountered Chico’s paintings hanging in people’s houses, views his communal practice as authentically Afro-Indigenous. “Of course, the studio was demonized by Chabloz because it was like Chico’s freedom movement,” she said, “and every freedom movement needs to be collective.”

The use of assistants was seen as radical and “unheard-of coming out of Brazilian modernism,” Mr. Kordansky said, but is commonplace in contemporary art and dates to the Renaissance. “Why is it OK for Andy Warhol but not OK for Chico da Silva?” he asked, referring to the production line in Warhol’s studio, The Factory.

In tandem with the exhibition, the Pinacoteca de São Paulo for the first time acquired work by Chico for the history of Brazilian art in the permanent collection. The Tate in London and Centre Pompidou in Paris have also made recent acquisitions.

Mr. Steele pointed to a pantheon of Brazilian modernists, including Lygia Pape, Lygia Clark, Hélio Oiticica and Mira Schendel, and said works by Chico are starting to be integrated in this context.

“That is something that’s happening now in an interesting way” Mr. Steele said. “There is a deeper interest in wanting to look at Chico’s story and how it holds a mirror up to issues of racism and classism.”

Reframing the American Landscape

Reframing the American Landscape

This article is part of the Fine Arts & Exhibits special section on the art world’s expanded view of what art is and who can make it.


As a painter of the natural world for more than five decades, Kay WalkingStick says it is impossible not to be influenced by the 19th-century Hudson River School’s majestic depictions of the American landscape. But she finds these sublime, monumental scenes of pristine wilderness by artists like Thomas Cole, Albert Bierstadt and Asher B. Durand to be as problematic as they are inspirational.

“They were selling the American landscape as empty and of course it was not empty; it was populated,” said Ms. WalkingStick, who in her bold, pared-down painting style revisits similar vistas on which she overlays geometric patterns used by the Native tribe connected to that specific land. “I think of it as a reminder that we’re all living on Indian Territory.”

The exhibition “Kay WalkingStick/Hudson River School” opens Friday at the New-York Historical Society. It is the 88-year-old Cherokee artist’s largest museum show so far in New York City, where she received her M.F.A. at Pratt Institute in 1975 and has shown consistently in group and gallery exhibitions while neglected by its powerhouse institutions until recently. With about 40 works, the exhibition puts contemporary paintings from across Ms. WalkingStick’s career in direct and lively conversation with the museum’s signature landscapes by Cole, Bierstadt, Durand, Frederick A. Butman, John Frederick Kensett and Jesse Talbot, among others.

“I wanted to see our Hudson River School collection through Kay’s eyes and how her work helps us to reinterpret the history of landscape painting in North America,” said Wendy Nalani E. Ikemoto, the museum’s senior curator of American art and a Native Hawaiian.

In early 2022, she invited Ms. WalkingStick to browse the museum’s trove of 19th-century landscapes at its storage facility where the artist was almost immediately drawn to several paintings of Niagara Falls, including two rare 1818 works by Louisa Davis Minot. “Kay started thinking out loud about how she would approach a subject like this because it is so all encompassing,” Ms. Ikemoto said.

A painting of a waterfall in blues and greens. Halfway across the bottom edge is a design of blue inverted triangles.
“Niagara” (2022) by Ms. WalkingStick, marked by a Haudenosaunee design motif.via the artist and New-York Historical Society

That conversation precipitated the artist’s visit to the falls, where she made sketches and photographs that inform her vertiginous perspective of the thundering, sparkly water in her 40-by-80-inch canvas “Niagara,” marked across the bottom right with a Haudenosaunee design motif. This painting — acquired by the New-York Historical Society, its first ever by an Indigenous artist — is now the centerpiece of the exhibition where it debuts, flanked by the Minot canvases and others of Niagara Falls by Thomas Davies.

In her studio at the back of her Victorian home in Easton, Pa., where she lives with her husband, Dirk Bach, an artist and retired art historian, Ms. WalkingStick contemplated the challenges presented by a vast canvas in progress of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. “Canyon pieces are so hard but they’re really interesting,” said the artist, who draws on her complex memory of being in a place as well as her on-site drawings and photographs as she’s painting.

“For a lot of years, I didn’t get very much recognition so I wasn’t painting for clients, God knows,” she continued. “I was painting to keep myself excited about painting. I still am.”

Born in Syracuse, N.Y., during the Depression, Ms. WalkingStick was raised by her mother and aunt of Scottish-Irish descent and four older siblings. “My mother left my Indian father when she was pregnant with me,” said the artist, who was 8 before she first met her father, a geologist who went to Dartmouth but spiraled into alcoholism, according to Ms. WalkingStick. Her mother, who often worked menial jobs but created a stable, happy family life, instilled in her children a pride in their Cherokee heritage.

Ms. WalkingStick with some of her old sketches in her studio in Easton.Hannah Yoon for The New York Times
Sketches of Indigenous patterns at Ms. WalkingStick’s studio.Hannah Yoon for The New York Times

Ms. WalkingStick worked as a Bell telephone operator while studying art at Beaver College (now Arcadia University) in Glenside, Pa., and married her first husband, Robert Michael Echols, in 1959 right out of school. Living in Englewood, N.J., she raised their two children while painting often nude self-portraits, and following what was happening in New York galleries, where she had her first show in 1969 at Cannabis Gallery.

In 1973, at age 38, she started commuting to graduate school at Pratt in Brooklyn, where she shifted to painting abstractly and also began to reconcile her biracial identity. “I had to come to terms with this idea that I am as much my father’s daughter as my mother’s,” she said.

Her minimalist series “Chief Joseph” (1974-76) is painted with repeated straight and curved lines that form a procession of bow shapes, across 36 vertical canvases layered thickly with ink, acrylic and wax. It was named after the Nez Perce chief who led his people across the Rocky Mountains in 1877 and was someone her father admired. “A lot of those paintings are about history and my acceptance of myself as an Indian woman,” she said.

In the 1980s, she found meaning in using the diptych format, juxtaposing textured abstractions evocative of geologic strata directly with more representational paintings of the land. Such duality and symbiosis persists in her canvases of the last two decades that superimpose abstract Native patterns on illusionistic scenes.

Ms. WalkingStick remembers a dealer advising her early in her career not to show with Native artists. “I’d be pigeonholed and wouldn’t be able to show broadly,” she said of the advice, which she disregarded. “Maybe that happened.”

“Farewell to the Smokies (Trail of Tears)” from 2007.via the artist and Denver Art Museum

The game changed in her eighth decade, with the opening of her career retrospective in 2015 at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C., organized by Kathleen Ash-Milby and David W. Penney. (The exhibition traveled through 2018 to Phoenix; Dayton, Ohio; Kalamazoo, Mich.; Tulsa, Okla.; and Montclair, N.J.)

“Kay is really an icon in the field and recognized as someone important among Native American contemporary artists since the ’80s,” said Ms. Ash-Milby, now curator of Native American art at the Portland Art Museum in Oregon and a commissioner of the 2024 American pavilion at the Venice Biennale, where Jeffrey Gibson will be the first Indigenous artist to represent the country since a group show in 1932.

“When I started as a graduate student,” she added, “we couldn’t get people to pay attention to what Native artists were doing. We were banging on the door and no one wanted to even look.”

Ms. WalkingStick at her studio with a Grand Canyon landscape painting that is also marked with an Indigenous pattern.Hannah Yoon for The New York Times

Institutions and collectors are now playing catch-up. Crystal Bridges in Arkansas recently acquired two major works by Ms. WalkingStick, and the Museum of Modern Art in New York bought seven of her pieces from across multiple periods. “It was a very significant thing for an artist like Kay who’s been working all this time to enter MoMA’s collection,” said Stuart Morrison, managing director of Hales Gallery, which had its first solo show of Ms. WalkingStick’s work in 2022 (the artist previously had been represented by June Kelly for more than two decades).

Ms. WalkingStick is also being championed by influential private collectors. The artist’s “Red Painting/Red Person” from 1976 is included in an exhibition highlighting Komal Shah’s collection of female artists opening Nov. 2 at 548 West 22nd in Chelsea, a gallery that is the former space of the Dia Center. Agnes Hsu-Tang, who leads the board of the New-York Historical Society, was the one to suggest that Ms. WalkingStick be invited to peruse the museum’s Hudson River School collection and is loaning several of the artist’s works from her personal collection with Oscar Tang to the new exhibition.

For Ms. Ikemoto, the show’s curator, it’s an opportunity to bring new voices into the way the institution presents history. “The tendency still today is to assume that when somebody says American art, they’re thinking about the art produced by European American settlers,” she said. “To insert Kay’s work into that discussion and actually have it be the frame through which we look at the older works, it lets Native art stand on its own but also addresses its absolute vitality to the story of American art.”

Annual Undergraduate Juried Exhibition: Our bodies without disguise

Annual Undergraduate Juried Exhibition: Our bodies without disguise

On Tuesday, the department of art and art history announced 27 student artists whose works were selected for the ninth annual Undergraduate Juried Exhibition, “Panoramic Enlightenment.” The artworks are currently displayed in the Stanford Art Gallery through Dec. 8.

Each exhibition piece was selected from department-wide submissions by jurors Enrique Chagoya, Maggie Dethloff and Gabriel Harrison. Chagoya is a professor in the art and art history department, Dethloff is the assistant curator of photography and new media at the Cantor Arts Center and Harrison is the associate director and curator of galleries and exhibitions. 

The selection of multi-media artworks showcase the artists’ wide range of interests, with overarching themes of race, culture and sexuality.

“I’m constantly inspired by the amazing art produced by my friends and other students at Stanford. Everyone brings a different story to the table,” said Bryan Defjan ’24, who had two pieces selected for the exhibit.

One of the most striking pieces was created by Ava DeConcini ’25. A bean bag, covered by patches of cloth with student-written messages about sexual consent printed on them, was placed at the very center of the gallery. It was the only work that included an aspect of physical audience interaction, inviting the audience to touch and sit on it.

“I asked students to share times they felt uncomfortable and received hundreds of stories describing the same sensation: realizing you want to get out of a situation you had anticipated feeling more comfortable in and not immediately knowing how to do so gracefully,” wrote DeConcini in a note accompanying the installation. 

The work, titled “How It Feels” (2023), uses the bean bag as a metaphor for sexual discomfort. One sits on the inviting bean bag only to slowly sink into the deceiving softness, hard to escape. I marveled at DeConcini’s ability to infuse meaning into a mundane object.

Student artists grappled with their cultural heritage in many exhibition pieces. Tyra Blackwater ’23 narrates timeless bonds of kinship among Native Americans through “They are Taking Good Care of Us” (2023), an installation that incorporated the traditional Native art form of weavings. Sky Walker’s ’24 paper collage “A Spectacle” (2022) features a group of people observing several pairs of dark-toned legs suspended in the air, conveying how “Black bodies often get objectified, appropriated, hyper-sexualized and commodified.”

L. Song Wu’s ’24 “Fairy Sexy Style” (2023) belongs to Wu’s larger portrait series of Asians wearing garments with “bad English” print. (Photo: LINDA LIU/The Stanford Daily)

L. Song Wu’s ’24 “Fairy Sexy Style” (2023) resonated with me most strongly. In the forefront of the oil painting is an Asian man, staring fearlessly into the observer’s eyes and wearing a shirt with the text “Fairy Sexy Style” printed on it.

“Sometimes I am the Westerner laughing at these images, and other times I am the Chinese being laughed at,” Wu wrote, referencing situations in which Asians wear garments with “bad English” printed on them.

Being of Asian origin myself, I was amused by the humor and relatability of the situation portrayed with comforting broad strokes and blunt colors. The painting made me question where I am positioned in this identity continuum. Would I empathize with the oblivious protagonist, who is unaware of himself being the butt of the joke, or would I mock him along with the others?

A charcoal drawing of a person curled into a ball.
Jenny Jeewon Youm’s ’26 charcoal drawing “In the Guise of Toughness” (2023) depicts a human figure without any disguise. (Photo: LINDA LIU/The Stanford Daily)

Other artworks interact with the human body in intriguing and literal ways. Jenny Jeewon Youm ’26 traced her body on paper in a life-sized charcoal drawing, “In the Guise of Toughness” (2023). Swirling shoe prints seem to be stepping on the charcoal figure from all directions, while the figure wraps their arms tightly around their body in an expression of vulnerability. The charcoal lines and the uneven torn mark on the paper’s top edge — as if the sheet was carelessly torn from a roll — were unapologetically raw. 

In the Undergraduate Juried Exhibition, art strips humans of all their disguise. The exhibition also gives artists a safe space to express and celebrate each other.

“After having an online freshman year, being part of in-person exhibitions like this makes me feel like I’m part of a larger creative community,” Defjan said.

“The most gratifying part of being included in this exhibition is that it reaffirms my sense of membership in a community of artists at Stanford,” said Jackie Liu ’25, creator of oil painting “Creating Content” (2023). “We may be small, but we are definitely mighty.”

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.