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6 miles of public art highlight St. Louis’ past and future

6 miles of public art highlight St. Louis’ past and future

Experiencing Counterpublic’s art installations could involve riding the St. Louis Wheel, visiting the old Pruitt-Igoe site or using a cellphone to watch buffalo dancers downtown.

The project involves some 30 artists and weaves its way for 6 miles down Jefferson Avenue — with side tours to places like Sugarloaf Mound and a native bee sanctuary. “It’s a celebration of our city and our incredible art scene,” says James McAnally, artistic director for the exhibition. “We want to spotlight everything we have to offer.”

Destruction of Native American mounds, the Mill Creek Valley neighborhood and Pruitt-Igoe housing project make up some of the St. Louis history recalled by the art project, which runs for three months, starting with a kickoff party April 14 outside the CityPark soccer stadium.

But the lost past isn’t the only theme. Artists will also be thinking about the future and how to commemorate St. Louis history.

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“Artists are trying to draw attention to issues of right now, issues of our history, possibilities of our future,” McAnally says.

The 2023 initiative is the second incarnation of Counterpublic, a triennial event that commissions public art for St. Louis. In doing so, it involves permanent and temporary creations that use many types of media, from sound and film to augmented reality.

Before planning the project, residents were questioned about what they wanted, McAnally says. The No. 1 request was new monuments and public memory projects.

Over the initial weekend, several events are scheduled, including a 50-car sonic installation in St. Louis Park Place (2 p.m. April 15) and roundtable discussions at the Pulitzer Arts Foundation (April 16). Visit counterpublic.org for details.

Coincidentally, Counterpublic kicks off the same weekend as the arrival of another art project, “Banksyland.” But while both engage with social issues in a public way, Counterpublic is completely sanctioned by its city and the artists, local and national, who have collaborated and partnered with museums, neighborhoods and other entities.



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“WayBack” by Anita and Nokosee Fields includes dozens of colorful wooden platforms and a billboard reading “When you listen the land speaks.”




Mound City

One main focus for Counterpublic is the Indigenous history of the area before it became “St. Louis,” particularly its oldest human-built structure. Sugarloaf Mound is owned in part by the Osage Nation, descendants of the original Mound builders.

Near the three-tiered mound overlooking the Mississippi River, artist Anita Fields of Tulsa, Oklahoma, has installed wooden platforms. Her son, fiddler Nokosee Fields, collaborated to provide a soundscape that will be active at certain times. And in between the historic mound, located at 4420 Ohio Street, and the Fields’ “WayBack” exhibition is a billboard reading “When you listen the land speaks.”

Most of the wooden platforms have brightly painted tops, with some decorated with ribbons or ceramic tiles. They are similar to what Anita Fields remembers from her childhood as part of her life at Osage events, she says. People had platforms that they’d use for many things, including visiting, napping or preparing for dances. Her memories of gestures and laughter take her “way back.” Another reference for the installation’s title is that she’ll be coming to Missouri: “We’re making our way back to this place that was so important to our history.”

She recalls that the Osage began embellishing their clothing with ribbon after they obtained needles and bright ribbons from French fur trappers here. Before the Native people were removed from Missouri by white authorities, it was “part of our original homeland,” Fields says. “We have a history with that area going very, very far back.”

In addition to calling attention to Indigenous history, Counterpublic wants to help the Osage Nation gain control of the entire Sugarloaf Mound. The nonprofit has offered to buy out owners of two houses on lower tiers of the mound, McAnally says. The owners “are open to the discussion,” he says.



Cannupa Hanska Luger

Cannupa Hanska Luger, an artist based near Santa Fe, New Mexico



Jane Henderson



Other Native artists are also involved in Counterpublic, including Cannupa Hanska Luger, a member of the Three Affiliated Tribes of Fort Berthold who now lives near Santa Fe, New Mexico. His modern buffalo dancers will be seen through “augmented reality digital overlay” onto St. Louis horizons. In essence, a visitor’s cellphone uses a social media app, and where its camera points, Luger’s figures will appear amid real-life backgrounds as they do a dance of reverence for the buffalo.

Luger wants people to recognize that the city is built on much-older land. But he uses modern technology, like phones, to reach people. “The function of art should be applied to the social structures we navigate,” he says.

“Presenting these figures on the landscape hopefully makes you feel small,” Luger says. “And maybe in that smallness, you have a better relationship with your interdependence with the environment.”



Repurposed materials are used in artist Cannupa Hanska Luger’s buffalo regalia in “We Survive You-Midéegaadi.” 




South Jefferson

A vinyl image by Luger will be attached to an exterior wall of the Luminary, while at the Monaco gallery, a mixed-media canvas creation by Jaune Quick-to-See Smith is called “State Names Map: Cahokia.” Both are located at 2701 Cherokee Street.

In Benton Park, “Music for 13 Paths” will involve chimes installed on the park’s tallest hill, with a performance by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer Raven Chacon at 10 a.m. April 15.



“State Names Map: Cahokia” and “Trade Canoe: Osage Orange” by Jaune Quick-to-See Smith




St. Louis artist Simiya Sudduth has painted a tarot card-type mural, “Justice,” at 2311 South Jefferson Avenue. She also will have a couple of pop-up events at a trailer that has been turned into a mobile meditation studio and parked at Rung for Women, 2717 Sidney Street.

On the mural, a Black woman holds cotton in each hand, referencing the area’s slave-owning past. It’s important to recognize some of the hard things in St. Louis’ past and present,

Sudduth says, and engaging with public art is important. “St. Louis is changing. We are figuring out art is really powerful.”

Sudduth believes public art “makes people want to invest in their community and gives them a sense of pride.” Counterpublic itself is a “great opportunity for St. Louis,” she says. “It will open doors for more public art and more civic engagement.”

Downtown west and north

One of the major permanent installations connected to Counterpublic is “Pillars of the Valley” by Damon Davis at CityPark. Over the next few years, the granite hourglass shapes, which commemorate the former Mill Creek Valley neighborhood, will expand along the Brickline Greenway.

Nearby, at the St. Louis Wheel at Union Station, which offers bird’s-eye views of the area, visitors can ask to ride in dedicated gondolas that will play “Sky Is the Only Roof” by Steffani Jemison.

At Memorial Plaza, 1720 Market Street, obsidian boulders are part of work by Jordan Weber. At the end of Counterpublic, the installation will find a permanent home at Peace Park near the North Grand water tower.

The art initiative extends north to the Griot Museum of Black History, where another major permanent installation is still being built. Architect David Adjaye’s “Asaase III” is made of rammed earth and stainless steel and is financed by a $1 million gift from Chrissy Taylor and her husband, Lee Broughton, a co-founder of Counterpublic. Adjaye is scheduled to lead a preview showing of his first permanent public artwork at noon April 15 at the museum, 2505 St. Louis Avenue.

At the Northside Workshop, 1306 St. Louis Avenue, Juan William Chávez’s “Decolonizing the Hive: Native Bee Stewardship Network” includes a bee sanctuary, art studio and teaching garden.



Tim Portlock

Tim Portlock




On nearby Cass Avenue, near the old Pruitt-Igoe site, artist Tim Portlock has created billboards with words and digitized images that commemorate the 57-acre public housing effort and its residents.

Portlock, a professor at Washington University, interviewed residents, asking about their memories of life in Pruitt-Igoe.

He acknowledges that most St. Louisans are aware of the failed housing project, which was demolished starting in 1972, but he thinks the personal stories of the residents are often left out of the project’s history. Some memories were positive, others negative. Single or divorced mothers of different races often worked together to help with child care, he found.

“I do think there is power in commemorating things, to point out to the broader public that this thing happened or that this thing exists,” Portlock says. Creating public awareness with artwork “can help people feel they’re a community.”

What Counterpublic • When April 15-July 15; grand opening 7-9 p.m. April 14 at CityPark • Where Various locations • How much Free • More info counterpublic.org

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With ‘The Thanksgiving Play,’ Larissa FastHorse Writes Humor Into a Dark History

With ‘The Thanksgiving Play,’ Larissa FastHorse Writes Humor Into a Dark History

Naturally, FastHorse’s play satirizes the idea of white “allies” to Indigenous people trying to stage a woke Thanksgiving play; the four characters’ fictional production quickly, and comically, goes off the rails as they brainstorm an assortment of deranged ideas, such as acting out the brutal Pequot Massacre of 1637. There’s even a scene where the four stars kick a handful of severed, bloodied Native heads around like soccer balls, an unsubtle nod to the violence Indigenous people faced during colonization. “I love that there’s a lot of nervous laughter,” says FastHorse. “We shouldn’t fear the truth. When I talk to Indigenous folks, they’re like, ‘Thank you.’ There’s a relief and release in seeing [Thanksgiving] the way it actually happened, and not trying to make it softer or censor it.”

The playwright feels there’s power in using laughter as an educational tool; she wanted to make audience members think twice about celebrating Thanksgiving, but to have fun while doing it. “I don’t enjoy going to theater and being bashed over the head [with a message],” says FastHorse. “I go to theater to have a communal experience, and to learn and enjoy things. Comedy is a really easy way to to force your brain into thinking a different way.”

Take, for example, the interstitial videos projected throughout the production. They show young children singing blatantly racist Thanksgiving songs like “10 Little Indians”—a take on “Twelve Days of Christmas,” referencing just about every Indigenous stereotype in existence. As it turns out, these preposterous songs were all taken from real-life teachers’ Pinterest boards or chat rooms. “These are horrific things that we still have kids do at schools on Thanksgiving,” says FastHorse. “Someone said to me, ‘I don’t think they would do that today.’ And I’m like, have you seen the video of that math teacher in California? This stuff is happening all of the time!”

With ‘The Thanksgiving Play Larissa FastHorse Writes Humor Into a Dark History

Photographed by Jingyu Lin

Diné muralist Daniel Josley proud to represent Navajo culture at Page Fine Art Festival

Diné muralist Daniel Josley proud to represent Navajo culture at Page Fine Art Festival

Daniel Josley and his mural “Horned Toad and Lightning God” in Shonto on the Navajo Nation.

The second annual Page Fine Art Festival comes to John C. Page Memorial Park this Saturday, April 15, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. The festival will feature around 40 artist booths, as well as food vendors, a Native hoop dance performance at 11 a.m. and live music at 1 p.m.  

The festival kicks off this Friday with the Best in Show Art Event at Wahweap Marina from 6-9 p.m. At that event, each artist will display one of their own artworks, and each person who buys a ticket to attend will be able to vote for the best art. Ticketholders will also have the opportunity to chat with the artists, including this year’s premiere artist, Daniel Josley.

Josley is a Diné artist based in Shonto on the Navajo Nation, who specializes in murals and canvas paintings. He is perhaps most well-known for his artwork depicting horned toads, which in Navajo culture represent wisdom, knowledge and protection. 

Josley said he was proud to be chosen as the premiere artist for the Page Fine Art Festival, not only because of his art but also because of where he is from, who he is and what he represents.

“I really believe that as an artist, we’re all trying to get our mind and spirit out there. If this is a way to do it, then my art will speak louder than my words,” Josley told the Chronicle. “If I can climb up the ladder to spread the word about the horned toads and the stories and the relations that we have through my Navajo culture, then I will take that first step. I really appreciate the Page Fine Art Festival for choosing me to represent that.” 

Art has always come naturally to Josley, who remembers doing sketches throughout his childhood and experimenting with pastels and paints in high school. He has always been interested in gathering whatever information he could about art, art history, and the use of materials like acrylic and oil paints.

However, his interest in art was put on the backburner when he left the Navajo Nation after school in pursuit of work in places like Montana, Colorado and Wyoming. He describes that period of his life as being far away from home and “in the system, another father paying his bills with a normal job.” 

It wasn’t until he was working in North Dakota and got laid off that he felt compelled to get back to making art. 

“One day I just picked up a pencil and paper and I sat at the kitchen table and started sketching. That sketch turned into a portrait of my grandfather, John Josley, and I kind of lost myself in what I was doing. I forgot about struggle, the bills, obligations,” he said. 

“I found myself hypnotized in what I was doing and so I shared it on social media, and several months later just started paying the rent with my art. I figured, why not move home back to the motherland in Shonto and continue doing what I’m doing?”

He returned home in 2015, a move that gave him a whole different perspective on life. 

“Coming home was definitely an eye-opener for me. It was like I was finally awake when I came home. I looked at everything different – my family, the canyons, the trees, the community. I wanted to make a difference,” he said.

Just how to make that difference wasn’t immediately clear. At that point, Josley was not yet painting horned toads, instead focusing on portraits, landscapes and mixed-media art as he tried to find his own style and technique through trial-and-error. He was also trying to figure out things for himself and for his family – including his wife, five kids and daughter-in-law.

It wasn’t until after Josley’s grandfather passed on that he started painting horned toads. He was raised by his grandparents, and through them found much of the wisdom, knowledge and protection that horned toads represent in his culture.  

His grandfather used to tell him stories about the horned toad, which also represents family relations, as well as being a symbol of good luck. 

“When I started painting my first still life image of a horned toad, it took me back to my childhood. I never really had that perspective until remembering what my grandfather used to teach me. The horned toad helped me do that, helped bring me back and give me a different perspective,” Josley said.

“In doing so, I started to create a character, which was my grandfather, and I just started to hold different childhood memory of me and the canyons and school, first experiences and travelling, as a horned toad, a grandfather horned toad. So now I do that. I travel here and there, and a lot of people can relate to what I’m doing.” 

So far, Josley has completed nearly 60 murals across the Navajo Nation – in Shonto, Tuba City, Black Mesa, Kayenta and elsewhere – as well as off the reservation, in towns ranging from Page to Farmington, New Mexico.  

For Josley, painting murals is “a little more addicting” than working on canvas. It can also be unpredictable, with the final image dependent not only on his imagination and skill, but also on factors like the location, the weather, the structure, whether it’s indoor or outdoor, and obstacles on the wall such as piping, windows and doors. It all contributes to the “flow” of the finished mural. 

“It’s pretty interesting. Plus, at the same time there’s a lot of traffic that comes through at different times, and there’s that interaction” with the public that does not occur while working alone at home or in a studio.  

Josley believes that murals can enhance public spaces, an idea that takes him back to one of his first murals in Shonto.

“When I came back home to my community here in Shonto, I just saw a lot of profanity and spraypainted graffiti on the walls, and I wanted to change that or cover it up,” he said. 

“I thought maybe this was a free canvas for me to explore my ideas on. So, contributing to the community with mural art has really made a large impact on the surrounding families in the area, as far as their kids getting on the bus and driving by these murals every day. It’s inspirational, and I believe it can benefit a community for the future.”

One of his Shonto murals, titled “Horned Toad and Lightning God,” has also inspired him to start working on a children’s book – which will be published in both English and Navajo languages – about a modern-day horned toad who walks on two legs and travels to different communities telling his own story as well as older traditional tales. It’s a work in progress with no firm completion date. 

“I’m not painting every day. I do things around the house, I go wood hauling, I travel at certain times to schools to give presentations and demonstrations, and to work on murals. It’s a slow project for me, but it’s something that I’m building toward,” Josley said.

He described his efforts to make a living from art and support his family as a “gamble” and an “everyday hustle,” but he’s determined to persist through the hard times – which is why he has named his personal website Persistence in Arts (www.persistenceinarts.com).

“I’ve been telling people time and time again – I think the best of us comes out when we’re going through the hard times. I’ve been down to my last 20 bucks before, and those are the times when my original artwork comes out. They’re because I need to pay the bills or I need to get food or I need to get gas money to travel,” Josley said. “So, appreciate the hard times. They’re stepping stones. That’s all the failures we have, and it’s good to embrace those. It makes you stronger.” 

He also encouraged new and aspiring artists to “just get out there and do it” rather than thinking too much about making art. 

“Most of my murals that I’ve done, they weren’t because I was planning things out, they were because I had an idea. As an artist, if you have a good idea, it’s hard to get that out of your head before you can move on to the next project,” he said. “So that’s what got me started in the first place. Just getting out there and doing it myself. There’s no time and day for art.”

Lynn Cormier, director of community and recreation services for the City of Page, said she was particularly excited about this year’s festival because Josley has been instrumental in invigorating more artists on the Navajo Nation to participate in the event. 

She said it was extremely important to showcase local Native American artists, not only because they are neighbors to Page but also because they have their own stories to tell through their contemporary artwork.   

When it comes to Native art, Cormier said, “We often think of kachina dolls and jewelry and the old pottery, but there’s some pretty contemporary and modern styles that those who have signed up for the festival have given a twist to really show their culture and how they feel they fall into today’s modern world. And I think that that voice needs to be heard. So, we’re excited to have them.”

Cormier said there will also be greater participation from local high school students this year, with as many as 50 participating in the festival. 

“We’re excited to have the high school kids because it’s nice to have something that you can bring the community into,” she said, adding that as far as students go, the Best in Show event will be limited to high-school seniors. “This is something that they can build toward each year, and knowing that in senior year, if they stick with it, they can be part of the Best in Show event.” 

A limited number of tickets are available for the Best in Show Art Event at Wahweap Marina on April 14. Tickets are $25 per person or $45 per couple and can be purchased at City Hall or online at events.cityofpage.org/page-fine-art-festival/.

Arts Council hosts ‘The Spirit Within’ through April 28

Arts Council hosts ‘The Spirit Within’ through April 28

Bulletin report

The Doña Ana Arts Council (DAAC), 230 S. Water St. downtown, is hosting “The Spirit Within – A Gathering of Indigenous Artists,” an exhibit of contemporary native artists, in its main gallery through Friday, April 28.

“We are honored to welcome these artists,” DAAC Executive Director Araceli Solis said. “This exhibit is an opportunity in Doña Ana County to experience the gathering of outstanding Indigenous artists of New Mexico, coming together to celebrate their indigenous heritage and spirit.”

Artists in the exhibit include Marcy Angeles, Ramona Angeles, Ishkoten Dougi, Aaron Freeland, Amado Peña, Saba, John Suazo and Michael Toya.

“Some of the names of the exhibiting artists should be recognizable in Las Cruces, such as Saba, who is known for his murals; Freeland, who is known for his monoprints; and Suazo, who has a sculpture outside The Adobe Gallery in Las Cruces,” DAAC Gallery Manager Penny Peace said. “But the work of Dougi, Peña and Toya is less well-known here, and they, in fact, will exhibit for the first time at DAAC.”

Also on exhibit at DAAC in April is the work of 25 aspiring young artists from the Doña Ana Community College Film and Digital Media Arts Program, DAAC said.

DAAC is open 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday, plus noon-5 p.m. on Second Saturday, April 15.

Contact Solis at 575-523-6403 and director@daarts.org. Contact Peace at gallery@daarts.org.

How ‘The Thanksgiving Play’ on Broadway roasts and reexamines history | New York Theatre Guide

How ‘The Thanksgiving Play’ on Broadway roasts and reexamines history | New York Theatre Guide

The show’s cast and creative team share what makes Larissa FastHorse’s satire timely and the lessons they’ve learned that they hope audiences will, too.

Four misguided theatre artists create an educational, Native American-centric Thanksgiving pageant. None of them are Indigenous, and they fret so much over getting everything right that they end up getting things very, very wrong. Such is the meat and potatoes of Larissa FastHorse’s The Thanksgiving Play, now on Broadway with the starry quartet of D’Arcy Carden, Katie Finneran, Chris Sullivan, and Scott Foley.

With its pointed satire of white liberalism, The Thanksgiving Play is designed to make audiences uncomfortable while also making them laugh. The characters draw on archetypes — a daffy actress, a yoga bro, a disgraced director, her aspiring-dramatist boyfriend — but are fleshed out enough that they can’t be dismissed as caricatures.

“I’d be surprised if every person who saw this play didn’t see themselves or someone they knew in every character and didn’t come away with more questions than they had going in,” said Foley, the Scandal star who now plays Jaxon (the yoga bro).

He certainly saw parallels — and in fact, that almost turned him away from the project entirely. “I read this play first and didn’t like it,” Foley confessed. “I have come to realize I didn’t like it because it scared the hell out of me. I have found myself in the position of these characters, wanting to do the right thing, thinking I’m going to do the right thing, but so afraid of doing the wrong thing that I do nothing.

“By doing this play, I’m not doing nothing,” Foley concluded. It was his ultimate answer to why The Thanksgiving Play matters now – a question often asked of shows old and new.

Looking to the past

The Thanksgiving Play returns (after a 2018 Off-Broadway premiere) following the racial equity movement that launched in 2020, which involved reassessing how history is taught.

That includes Native American history – a particular point of interest for FastHorse, a member of the Sicangu Lakota tribe. The Indigenous playwright uses The Thanksgiving Play to raise awareness about the disparity between the oft-taught myth of pilgrims and Natives harmoniously sharing a meal, and the bloodier reality.

“I hope that at the end of the laughter, we start to wonder about some of the really horrific history that we’re going to learn about in this play and wonder, ‘Why didn’t we know about this? Why weren’t we taught this in school?'” FastHorse said. “That’s going on a lot in this country right now, a lot of editing of truth, and I really hope that when people leave, they say, ‘Wow, I had such a great time, and I feel welcome and invited to learn more things and grow.'”

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Sullivan, the This Is Us star who plays history teacher (and aforementioned boyfriend) Caden, had this experience after he was cast: “I’ve been completely reeducated on how it all started. The fact that we’re not actually sure which is the actual first Thanksgiving, whether or not it was between Native Americans and Spanish people, whether or not it was in Texas, whether it was in Florida… But the story that we were told seems to be fairly far from the first Thanksgiving.”

Making change in the present

The Thanksgiving Play may aim to discomfort and challenge people, but it’s not out to dismiss or damn them as long as they keep an open mind. “We need to be able to hold the historical trauma that our fellow Americans, whatever group they are from, have encountered or have had to go through,” Sullivan said.

“It’s not that we are to blame or that it is our fault or that we have any direct relationship to it. But we can hold space for our fellow Americans… so they can process the traumas their communities have been through.”

Director Rachel Chavkin wanted to emphasize the characters’ “earnest attempt” to do exactly this — to put on a respectful show and honor a culture outside their own. They don’t succeed, and that’s where the laughter comes in. But the audiences can.

“It’s really hard because we’re confronting genocide in terms of the relationship between white settlers and the Indigenous population on this continent,” Chavkin acknowledged. “And that’s really hard to take ownership of and know even what to do with today. For so many audiences, this work now is going to feel incredibly medicinal, both because laughter is this extraordinary medicine and because people are desperate — and particularly, white folks are desperate — to get more information about how to think about all of it.”

Fostering the future

FastHorse also uses The Thanksgiving Play to make a point about the lack of Native representation in modern times. The show was born of her inability to get her other plays, which require Native actors, produced due to casting roadblocks. Thus, she took on the challenge to write a Native-centric play with no Native actors.

To make up for the lack of Native talent on stage, FastHorse (herself the first female Native playwright on Broadway) invited Native artists into The Thanksgiving Play behind the scenes. “We have folks that are closely identified with different Native communities in the design team, in Rachel [Chavkin]’s directing team, in the PAs [production assistants],” she said.

“I’ve also been mentoring Native writers, and so I’ve been involving them in how this process is and introducing them to people and having them just understand [the differences between] nonprofit theatre, the Broadway space, and the commercial space.

“I’m following in the footsteps of the great Lynn Riggs, who had many plays on Broadway back in the beginning of the last century,” FastHorse continued, referencing the only other known Native Broadway playwright, whose six shows include Green Grow the Lilacs, famously adapted into Oklahoma! “My goal and prayer is that it doesn’t take the next century for our next Native American playwright to be on Broadway.”

thanksgiving 1-1200x600-NYTG

Right play, right time

So, in short, The Thanksgiving Play is relevant now because it welcomes everyone into timely conversations around racial reeducation, amplifies the work of Native theatremakers, and has helped the actors grow right alongside audiences. And yet, Foley admitted he still had “no idea” if it was the right time to be doing The Thanksgiving Play. Good intentions aside, would audiences be receptive to entertainment that asks them to look inward, or would they shut off like he almost did?

He hopes not. “I’ve learned that I’m supposed to be uncomfortable; I’ve learned that people want me to be uncomfortable,” Foley said. “I’ve learned that I’m not alone in that and that it’s okay [ ] to have conversations that I’ve never felt okay having before.”

The first Thanksgiving might not have been a friendly, inclusive kumbaya. But The Thanksgiving Play invites everyone to the table to learn and grow — and feast on some delicious comic performances while they’re at it.

Get The Thanksgiving Play tickets now.

Book Tickets CTA - LT/NYTG

Top image credit: D’Arcy Carden, Chris Sullivan, Katie Finneran, and Scott Foley in The Thanksgiving Play. (Photos by Joan Marcus)

Native American art: Form and function to singularity

Native American art: Form and function to singularity
image

“Back when the stones were soft,” my brother Jeff might say in his best Old Lodge Skins voice from “Little Big Man,” things were much simpler.

Among Native tribes in the Southwest, when The People needed something to carry something else, they made it out of the materials at-hand. First, there were tanned hides. If you needed a basket, there were willows near the stream you could cut, strip and weave. If you needed a pot to put over a fire to cook a venison stew, you sought out an arroyo where micaceous clay was exposed by flash floods, added water and shaped it into a vessel that was fired over a cedar wood flame.

Four artists dust off their West Texas boots for Dallas’ Lone Gallery’s debut exhibit

Four artists dust off their West Texas boots for Dallas’ Lone Gallery’s debut exhibit

Faint melodies of mariachi music float on the air like pied pipers, luring outsiders to a corner building in an obscure section of Dallas’ Design District North. Opening the door, the staccato beat blasts the ears as the eyes fill with shades of indigo, terra cotta and forest green. It’s the premiere of Lone Gallery.

Owners J.P. and Erin Hossley created a 2,000-square-foot space to showcase some of their favorite artists in the front section of their retail furniture business, {neighborhood} Showroom. They have featured art for 13 years, J.P. said, ever since they opened their original location in Bishop Arts. They moved three years ago to the Design District.

“We’ve always loved to pair the art with the furniture,” he said, talking over the music, “but then we needed a space where we could just have an exhibition.”

And a party. Erin said the featured artist Cruz Ortiz from San Antonio wanted something lively, “a throw-down like you’d have in your backyard.” Nuevo cumbia soon replaces mariachi. Cranked up, the band draws a crowd. More people arrive.

A mariachi band plays at The Lone Gallery opening with a wall of Mexican abstract art by Cruz Ortiz in the background.

Sally Verrando

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Art my Cruz Oritz

“For me,” Ortiz said, “it’s all about understanding community, understanding placement, understanding about what the voice of Texas is and the different variances of the voices. Showing here means so much because it’s kind of like coming back home.” The music of Mariachi Quetzal greets guests at Lone Gallery’s first exhibit of “Danza de los Cosmicos” by the San Antonio artist.

A West Texas vibe links all the artists in the exhibit.

“We love Marfa in West Texas,” J.P. said. “We started going out there about 20 years ago, and we just haven’t been able to stop.”

Ortiz said he met the Hossleys in Marfa. He’s shown his art from Los Angeles to the Louvre, San Juan to the Smithsonian and all over Texas. His oil canvases fill the main gallery.

“Danza de los Cosmicos” at Lone Gallery is his first major Dallas show. “For me,” he said, “it’s all about understanding community, understanding placement, understanding about what the voice of Texas is and the different variances of the voices. Showing here means so much because it’s kind of like coming back home.”

A woman in a cap looks at a wall of Mexica abstract art by Cruz Ortiz.

Sally Verrando

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Art by Cruz Ortiz

A guest at the Lone Gallery views the paintings by featured artist Cruz Ortiz. The first three, from left to right, are “Cuando I Keep Falling in Love Contigo,” “Cuando We Listened to River Tribes” and “Olivia y Jaynie at The Hispanic Gala.”

The native Texan said he painted all the work in the past year after the Uvalde shooting.

“I think after that it really sent me into this different—not direction—but like implosion,” he said. “The only way to figure that out was to really dig into the artwork of it. Like, how do we function as humans?”

This episode and the state’s political and social changes are things that churn inside him “all the time,” Ortiz said. “This is probably the most political show I’ve ever done.” His artwork is more than just illustrations of cowboys and Mexican abstract images.

“The show’s about attention span,” he said. “It’s about paying attention to who and where you come from. And understanding what harms we have done.”

He said he questioned how he and other artists can “talk about humanity through paint. We’ve got to paint and paint a lot. And just don’t think. Just paint,” he said then paused and added with a wry smile, “Like Yoda stuff.”

His wife Olivia helps him with his artistic process. She is recognizable as his muse in many of his paintings throughout the exhibit.

Two women stand in front of a painting of three women sitting together in a garden.

Sally Verrando

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Art by Cruz Ortiz

Olivia Ortiz, the artist’s wife and muse, is the subject of many of his paintings. Her best friend since childhood, Adriana Alanis, left, and Olivia, right, modeled for the painting, “Adriana, Olivia, y Carina at the Cantina Amor Eterno” by Cruz Ortiz.

Three women artists also intertwine their visual stories of Texas in the gallery.

El Baker

El Baker of Austin posts her work on Instagram, and that’s where the Hossleys found her for the gallery exhibit.

Baker said her West Texas landscapes are inspired by camping trips with her husband to Big Bend. She’s eager to share those experiences with her two small children, 1 and 3 years old.

A man in a cap looks closely at a desert landscape painting.

Sally Verrando

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Art by El Baker

A visitor to Lone Gallery looks closely at El Baker’s painting, “Enchanted Rocks.” The Austin-based artist paints scenes from her memories of West Texas travels.

She said she’s painted throughout her life and started professionally three years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic. “So, when the 3-year-old was napping, that’s when I was painting.”

Layla Luna

Layla Luna, based in Fort Worth, explores nature, home and storytelling with her landscape paintings and illustrations. She said she credits her daughter for rekindling her own inner child and the joy of being an artist. Besides painting, Luna has also written children’s books.

Luna’s love of the desert “made me believe that certain places and objects hold hauntedness within them,” according to her website.

Landscape paintings on 4-inch x 4-inch blocks, hanging on the wall.

Sally Verrando

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Art by Layla Luna

Layla Luna, a Fort Worth artist, paints landscapes mounted on 4×4-inch blocks. Left to right are “Alone,” “The Space Between the Leaves” and “Where Fog and Grass Meet.”

Leslie Cottrill

This is Leslie Cottrill‘s first time exhibiting in Dallas. She met the Hossleys in Marfa, where Erin bought one of her pieces.

She’s the only artist at Lone Gallery using a different medium—hand-sewn chain-stitched embroidery. The Austin artist said she learned it about 25 years ago when she was a girl. She picked up the craft again eight years ago because a very expensive vintage embroidered jacket caught her eye.

“I thought to myself, I wonder if I still know how to do that,” she said. She was at her day job, so she practiced with a needle and thread on a piece of paper.

A man with gray hair and glasses, a woman in a hat and a woman with long hair look at a collection of chain-stitched embroidery hanging on a wall.

Sally Verrando

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Art by Leslie Cottrill

Guests view Leslie Cottrill’s collection of hand-sewn chain-stitched embroidery at Lone Gallery’s debut exhibition.

Now, she designs chain-stitched patches, as well as wall and wearable art, on all kinds of fabrics—antique, vintage, denim and other unique choices.

“The white fabric,” she said, pointing to the wall, “my fiancé found it on the side of the road.”

The Hossleys are already planning Lone Gallery’s next exhibit, featuring the work of Tom Jean Webb, a Southwest landscape artist from Austin, opening May 13, 5-8 p.m. Live music will be provided by Denton country singer and family friend Isaac Hoskins, who has been featured on the TV show “Yellowstone.”

J.P. said the gallery’s partition walls are moveable and can be painted to complement an artist’s color palette. Ortiz collaborated on the color of the walls for his exhibit.

“Different colors for different artists,” J.P. said. “Different bands and different music to really bring out the spirit of what the artist is trying to convey.”

Artist Cruz Ortiz paints a large canvas in his studio.

Celeste Elena

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San Antonio artist Cruz Ortiz paints with oils on one of his large canvases in his studio. His works are a peek into “the supergalactic garden where death intertwines with the living and dreams formulate infinite realities,” according to his artist statement.

On April 21, the closing event of “Danza de los Cosmicos” features an artist talk by Ortiz at 5 p.m. and a screening of the documentary “Sons of Mezcal” at 6:30 pm. A mezcal tasting, along with tacos and burritos, are provided by Las Almas Rotas. And, of course, there’s music.

The Hossleys and Ortiz will multitask, creating the VIP space for the Dallas Art Fair, J.P. said. The event happens April 20-23 in the downtown Dallas Arts District.

Lone Gallery, 2532 Converse St. in the Dallas Design District is open Monday-Saturday, 10 a.m.-6 p.m.

  • April 21, 5 p.m.—“Danza de los Cosmicos” closing event includes an artist talk with Cruz Ortiz, a screening of the documentary “Sons of Mezcal,” a mezcal tasting, tacos and burritos
  • Through April 29—Ortiz’s exhibit “Danza de los Cosmicos” in the main gallery
  • May 13, 5-8 p.m.—exhibit opening with art by Tom Jean Webb and live music by Isaac Hoskins

Context and Conservation of Julius Rolshoven’s Tunisian Bedouins

Context and Conservation of Julius Rolshoven’s Tunisian Bedouins
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On March 5, the Denver Art Museum opened Near East to Far West: Fictions of French and American Colonialism (on view through May 29, 2023). The exhibition examines themes of artistic cross-cultural borrowings specifically where these concern the dissemination of Orientalist motifs originated by nineteenth-century French artists. An example of which is Julius Rolshoven’s (1858—1930) painting Tunisian Bedouins, chosen for the exhibition not only because of its beauty and complexity, but also because Rolshoven was one of several artists who trained in Europe and applied the concepts he learned there to the subjects he later found in the American Southwest.

Born in Detroit, Michigan, Rolshoven studied art in New York, Dusseldorf, Munich, and Florence. In Florence, he studied under fellow American expat Frank Duveneck, whose influence is evident in Rolshoven’s loose handling of paint in his mature works. By 1886, he was in Paris studying at the Académie Julian with William-Adolphe Bouguereau. He remained in Paris for nearly 10 years, painting portraits and teaching life-drawing classes. The peripatetic artist moved to London in 1895 and then, in 1904, back to Florence—a city he would primarily consider his home for the rest of his life.

Around 1910, Rolshoven traveled to Tunisia and painted Tunisian Bedouins. In the painting, two women sit on an urban rooftop. Their names unknown, they function as representatives of a primarily nomadic tribe of people found throughout North Africa and the Middle East. As intriguing figures of exotic “otherness,” Bedouin people were painted by many European and Euro-American artists. Here Rolshoven depicts the central woman draped in multi-colored clothing as a sensual temptress: her arms flung open, she seems to offer up her variegated textiles, shimmering jewelry, and even her body. In contrast, the foregrounded woman in white is an observant stoic who returns our gaze and bars us from her enticing counterpart.

To escape World War I, in 1915 Rolshoven returned to the US and visited the Panama-California Exposition in San Diego. Based on his interest in the American Southwest display, his friend and fellow artist, Fernand Lungren, recommended that Rolshoven and his wife Harriette visit Taos and Santa Fe, referring to the Pueblo peoples as “Arabs in America” in a letter to Rolshoven. While in Taos, Rolshoven painted several portraits of Native Americans from the area including a complex multifigured painting titled The Indian Council.

Artists such as Rolshoven traveled abroad to learn from French masters, and in the process, picked up more than techniques. They also adopted certain tropes for representing non-European subjects, seen in Rolshoven’s simultaneous Orientalizing of and respect for Bedouin and Indigenous cultures. In both paintings, rendered in Rolshoven’s characteristic loose and expressive brushwork, the sitters are powerfully present as indomitable representatives of their cultures, yet at the same time flattened into nameless types.

Conservation

At 113 years old, Tunisian Bedouins (like any painting its age) needed some conservation. When it arrived at the Denver Art Museum, the painting exhibited noticeable distortions and stretcher bar creases where the slack canvas had been resting against the wooden structure behind it. The paint layer had areas of textured age cracks that were stable but visually distracting, and there were some small damages that had been somewhat crudely repaired in the past. The main condition issue was the layer of old varnish, which had no doubt been water-clear at the time of application, but had aged to a dull, uneven brownish tone (shown below left).

Conservation treatment of the painting consisted of removing grime and the unflattering varnish, as well as old restoration materials used to “touch up” small damages (and, inexplicably, cover the original design on the central figure’s chin with a flat, yellow-green color). The canvas was removed from the wood stretcher so that irregularities and areas of raised paint could be relaxed using controlled humidity under the even heat and pressure of a vacuum hot table. Once re-stretched, the painting was re-varnished using a modern synthetic resin, and old damages were filled level and conservatively toned so that the surrounding original paint was not covered over. The painting still exhibits subtle signs of its age, but the major deformations have been corrected and the original vibrant paint colors revealed (shown below right).

‘First of its kind’: Indigenous fashion week coming to Salt Lake City

‘First of its kind’: Indigenous fashion week coming to Salt Lake City

“We want to bring that energy, that power and that art up here,” he said. “I think Salt Lake City needs something like this, to have the Native Americans voice who they are now. We’re still here; the Native Americans are still here. We’re still thriving, we’re teachers, astronauts, baseball players, designers and artists.

Governor General award highlights multi-faceted aspect of Métis artist

Governor General award highlights multi-faceted aspect of Métis artist

David Garneau had to sit for five months with the news— “I didn’t even tell my own mum!”—that he had won the Governor General’s award for Outstanding Contribution in the arts.

“It’s been like carrying this secret, almost like a big stone under my shirt…and then when the announcement came it was like the rock was out of my shirt, but now I’m wearing a disco ball on my head and getting way too much attention,” said Garneau.

On March 28, Garneau was announced as a winner, receiving $25,000 and a bronze medallion. The Outstanding Contribution Award is given to artists who have made an exceptional contribution to visual arts, media arts or fine crafts in a volunteer or professional capacity.

The acknowledgement and the resulting attention have been “just a little embarrassing,” said the Edmonton-born Métis visual artist, curator and critical art writer, because he’s all about collaboration.

While Garneau does work solo in his studio, for many of his projects he’s part of a group.

He points to the Tawatinâ Bridge project he undertook in Edmonton two years ago. There are 540 paintings installed on the underside of the concrete Valley Line light rail transit deck, which also serves as the ceiling of the pedestrian walkway.

While Garneau designed all the artwork, he had a team of a dozen painters, many Indigenous but others racialized Canadians, helping out.

His curating has also gone to collaboration. Over the past eight or nine years, the exhibitions he has curated have been as a member of a team, working with one or two Indigenous women, he says, “and we tend to balance out our positives and negatives and come up with something that neither one of us could have done on our own.”

Much of Garneau’s work, whether it’s his personal art, curating or writing, examines the complexities of being First Nations or Métis and the compromises that must be made.

“I’m really interested in how living right now, 2023, what does it mean to be Indigenous?” he said. “What can we learn and bring forward from the past because the alternative way, the dominant mainstream way, is so destructive to the environment. So that can’t be the right way. How do we negotiate these two things? That’s what I’m really interested in…how other folks deal with this very difficult idea.”

Garneau highlighted this theme in the exhibition “Transformer: Native Art in Light and Sound,” which he co-curated with Kathleen Ash Milbury in 2017 at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City. The works of 10 Indigenous artists were presented.

“There’s just extraordinary things going on that are more than traditional, and yet when you look at what they’re doing it’s all embedded in language, in Raven’s (Chacon) case, or concerns about the environment, in Marianne’s (Nicolson) case. There’s such a range. But the idea that they’re working in these new media, electronic media, shows it’s an example,” said Garneau.

Also of interest to his curator persona is how to reconcile having Indigenous objects and artifacts in museums.

“Some objects want to go home…so repatriation is important. But not everything should be repatriated,” he said.

Some museums have opened themselves to protocol, recognizing that smudging is important before viewing some of these objects still in their possession.

For his own art, Garneau says, it “is about storytelling and it’s about people getting together and talking, using the art objects to tell our stories.”

In May, Garneau will be leading walking tours of his work on the Tawatinâ Bridge. In collaboration with Elders, they will give the stories of the artwork’s life through oral storytelling instead of the written word.

Piece by David Garneau
Indigenous Art Shaping Canadian Art. Acrylic on panel.

That interaction with the public is also driving his exhibition “Métissage,” which is at the Nickle Galleries at the University of Calgary until April 22. The show’s curator, Mary-Beth Laviolette, leads tours of Garneau’s 53 pieces of artwork produced over 20 years.

“That’s really important to me. Paintings are the on walls, but they don’t speak for themselves. You have to speak with them…My work is full of ideas. It’s not just images. They’re tied to complex history,” he said.

Garneau said Laviolette had included “lots and lots” of text in the show and he was surprised at the general history she was conveying.

But when he led a show himself, he said people asked “very basic questions,” which he was pleased to answer. He said that level of discussion is necessary before the more complex issues can be broached.

Over the years, Garneau’s work has strayed from focusing on creating Indigenous-only spaces.

“Sometimes you want to be among your own. We’re working things out. I call this ‘irreconcilable spaces of Indigeneity’… You’re not always explaining everything. You’re getting on with it,” he said.

But then there are the times when “it’s not just about Indigenous content. It’s about what does it mean to be a scholar? What does it mean to be a human who’s careening towards death? Then a mixed company is important.”

He says many Indigenous artists appreciate that broader base.

“They like being invited not just because they’re Indigenous or Indigenous showcased but their ideas and their feelings are put in context with other people from other walks of life,” he said.

In 2025, Garneau will begin touring a collection of still life paintings called “Dark Chapters.” The paintings will be accompanied by a book that will include poetry and writings on each piece.

“Most of (the writers) are racialized. Not all but most of them… I don’t just want an Indigenous reading of these paintings. I want them to come to life for all different walks of life,” he said.

Garneau recalls a conversation he had with First Nations artist Alex Janvier, a member of The Indian Group of Seven.

“He said his biggest regret was that nobody took his art seriously. Although he had been showing it all over the place, nobody had been writing about it critically,” he said.

Surprised at the comment, Garneau looked at the notes in the back of the Indian Group of Seven book where he found comments on how well-loved the work was, but no evaluation or critiquing.

“Indigenous art is serious on the world stage when…there’s critical reviews,” said Garneau.  

This subject was the topic of one of his pieces as a critical art writer.

“We’re getting more and more (critical reviews) but mostly we’re still in the showcase model,” he said.

However, he’s hopeful that is beginning to change as Indigenous people move out of producing for the “white marketplace” and start producing work for other Indigenous people regionally and also internationally.

“We’re part of this international network now of just Indigenous people making things and they’re being considered by other Indigenous people. That’s very, very exciting. That’s a big change and that’s why it’s worthy of that notion of a renaissance, of a rebirth,” said Garneau.

Garneau’s career has taken him as artist, curator and keynote speaker to almost every continent.

Never, he says, did he expect when he was spending most of his time around the Sir Winston Churchill Square in downtown Edmonton, bouncing between the public library on one side and the Art Gallery of Alberta (free admission at that time) on other side, and playing chess and learning card tricks in the square with unhoused people, that he would accomplish so much.

“I never thought I would write something that would end up in a book that would be in the library,” he said. “I always thought I’d get into the Edmonton art gallery. I really did think that I might get a show someday, but I only thought regionally.”

Garneau anticipates the Governor General award will allow people to “put all the pieces together” about him: Curator, artist, writer.

“Hopefully people will read an idea I had in a paper and find it useful, and they’ll use it. That’s probably the greatest honour, when I see someone cite my work or they’re moved by a painting. That’s the greatest honour to me,” he said.

Garneau’s work will be part of an exhibition of the Governor General arts winners in November in the National Art Gallery in Ottawa.

“The wonderful thing about art, for most of us, our artwork persists. I’m going to die at some point. My works will carry on,” said Garneau.

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