More than 45 artists are coming together for a three-month exhibit that features indigenous, sustainable and healing art packaged together for a powerful storytelling and call to action.

All are invited to the art exhibit, “Ta Nå’i Ånimu (To give your entire spirit): Celebrating Indigenous Art and Land Stewardship,” which opens on Saturday, July 13, from 3 to 7 p.m., at the Guam Museum Rotating Gallery in Hagåtña.

The opening night will include activities for all ages.

There will be a “Neni Nook,” live music by Micro Child and DJ Zodiac Nat, a fashion show featuring CHamoru artists, and carabao rides.

If you miss the opening salvo, you can still visit the exhibit at a later date since it runs until Oct. 18.

The art exhibit, presented by the Micronesia Climate Change Alliance and Hita Litekyan, celebrates indigenous art and land stewardship.

It features more than 45 artists from Guam, the Northern Marianas, Turtle Island and Fiji.

Exhibit curator Kacey Bejado, during a press conference about the art exhibit, shared insights into the diverse artworks, which include paintings, sculptures, and mixed media installations.

These pieces, created with at least 25% sustainable materials, address themes such as climate change, access to clean water, and indigenous land rights, she said.

Maria Hernandez May, co-director of the Micronesia Climate Change Alliance and Hita Litekyan organizer, said the exhibit is focused on connecting indigenous CHamoru and Pasifika artists to their reverence for land, ocean, and people.

At the press conference, she said the interactive exhibition begins with themes of grief and transitions to joy and creation, symbolizing healing and community resilience.

“Ta Nå’i Ånimu,” meaning “To give your entire spirit,” underscores the exhibition’s dedication to activism, environmental justice, and the deep connections between indigenous artistry and sustainable land stewardship practices, organizers said.

In the context of Guam’s upcoming 80th Liberation Day on July 21, the exhibit holds additional significance.

“It’s really interesting to see where we’re at in this place and time and to be able to share our stories and uplift the stories of our great-grandparents and their lives even before the war,” Bejado said. “Both the anniversary and our exhibition can speak to each other and show our perspective, living in a place that’s been colonized for hundreds of years and the kinds of struggles we face as a colony. You’ll see that reflected in the pieces and the stories of our artists.”

The organizers envision this exhibition impacting the community by raising awareness about indigenous perspectives on environmental issues, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of these critical topics.

“Although the Ritidian families have experienced forced displacement from our lands, like many CHamoru families after World War II, we’re using this exhibit as an avenue for healing in some ways. Through an installation like this, we can connect with our mañaina (elders), who, until the day they died, fought for the return of their lands,” the organizers said.

For more information and updates, follow @micronesiaclimatealliance on social media or contact Cami Egurrola via email at cami@mccalliance.org or by phone at (671) 685-3796.

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

“I reawaken sleeping traditions,” says Sugpiaq (Alutiiq) artist and teacher Hanna Sholl. The intent look of resolve, of determination, is clearly felt when she talks about her culture. It is clear Hanna has something to say, not only in her voice, but her hands dance, illustrating her passion.

According to Hanna Sholl, many of her Sugpiaq traditions were put to sleep during Alaska’s colonization. It wasn’t until the 1980’s that those traditions began to slowly awaken from their slumber. In many ways, Hanna’s life holds a parallel.

Born in Kodiak to a Sugpiaq mother and a French-descended father, Hanna’s childhood consisted of traveling back and forth between both families when her parents separated. Raised much of the time in Portland, Oregon, Hanna felt a longing for her ancestral homelands, a connection she couldn’t quite grasp. She recalls one instance, around the age of ten, returning to Kodiak and physically feeling the sense of “home.” Hanna audibly exhales at the memory, a gentle smile warming her countenance.

As the oldest of six, responsibility came natural to Hanna. On her own at the age of 17, ambitious and determined, Hanna put herself through Cosmetology school, worked night shifts at McDonalds and even got married at the age of 18. When her mom asked her and her new husband to drive her van up through the Alaska Highway Hanna jumped at the chance. Once in Kodiak, Hanna quickly decided she never wanted to leave!

When settling into her life in Kodiak, Hanna’s mom suggested she dance with the Alutiiq Dance group. The dance group eagerly welcomed her. As she began to dance she felt a connection, she says, that was embedded in her DNA. Dancing, in fact, opened the floodgates of learning and self-discovery for Hanna.

Recounting the meaningfulness her traditional Sugpiaq dancing brought her, Hanna overflows with passion, her hands expressively reiterating her words. “I was trying to fill these holes… and I am dancing and I am singing…and I am wanting to know what I am singing so I am learning the language. And I am wanting to dance my own stuff so I am learning how to make headdress, I am learning how to make regalia and it’s all filling in. I felt myself starting to get this fire – like, if this so effective for me and it’s not being taught to our kids…what a difference it could make! All of the heartache I could’ve avoided! Had I been validated in my art and my herbal practice, along with the cultural elements that my body was craving on a DNA level.

“It pulled pieces of me that were vital to my existence so that I had to fill them with other things. It became very clear to me that this can help. This can change lives. This can make a difference. This can change our world, or our Sugpiaq nation.”

Hanna began the practice of instantly teaching whatever she was learning and not worrying about becoming an expert first. She wanted to disseminate any knowledge she was receiving as quickly as possible. Hanna credits the guidance of many fantastic mentors pouring into her thirst for knowledge. Her mission has expanded to the point of her teaching classes and materials to help people of all ages utilize art as a healing agent.

This passion for sharing fueled her mission to create a space for cultural healing through art. Hanna’s classes cater to all ages, from curious preschoolers to seasoned elders. She passionately teaches Sugpiaq designs, traditional crafts like oil lamp carving, and the stories woven into each artistic expression.

However, Hanna emphasizes that she’s not merely an instructor; she’s a facilitator of cultural revival. Her oil lamp carving class exemplifies this perfectly. While the practical skills of carving are important, Hanna delves deeper, sharing the history and traditional uses of the lamps. She connects the past to the present, suggesting suitable modern oils and wicks, and even incorporates language translations and songs into the learning experience. Her goal extends beyond classrooms; it’s about reviving traditions within Sugpiaq homes, fostering a sense of cultural identity in everyday life.

Hanna’s artistic expression extends beyond educational settings. Her murals grace the walls of Kodiak and even reach as far as Seattle’s Sacred Medicine House. Collaborations with organizations like the Alutiiq Museum further amplify her message. Together, they create educational children’s coloring books, bridging the gap between cultural knowledge and artistic exploration.

Hanna’s message for visitors to Alaska is simple: learn about the Indigenous communities before you arrive. By understanding the Sugpiaq people and their history, visitors can create a more meaningful connection with the land and its people. Supporting local businesses like Hanna’s storefront Tungiutaa in Kodiak ensures that authentic cultural experiences are available to all.

Hanna Sholl’s story is one of resilience, artistic expression, and a burning desire to heal herself and her community. Through her art and dedication, she is reawakening dormant traditions and paving the way for a future where cultural healing thrives.

Hanna invites visitors to come in to her store Tungiutaa in the Kodiak mall and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

One of Canada’s greatest painters, who wedded Indigenous elements to the mainstream of modern art, has died.

Alex Janvier, whose thousands of works hang in private homes and public galleries across the country, was 89.

“Painting says it all for me,” Janvier said in a statement in 2012. “It is the Redmantalk in colour, in North America’s language. Our Creator’s voice in colour.”

Officials at the Assembly of First Nations annual general meeting announced the death and held a moment of silence in the artist’s honour on Wednesday.

Janvier was born Feb. 28, 1935, on the Cold Lake Indian Reserve, now Cold Lake First Nations, northeast of Edmonton. His father, Harry Janvier, was the band’s last hereditary chief before federal law forced election officials on the band.

One of 10 children, Alex Janvier grew up on the land, hunting, fishing and trapping, as well as farming. At the age of eight, he was sent to the Blue Quills Residential School near St. Paul, Alta.

“That kind of story does a lot of unusual things to your life,” Janvier recalled. “It tears your language, culture and beliefs. They probably removed a lot of it.”

Artistic beginnings

But at the school Janvier had access to pencils, crayons, watercolour paints and lots of paper.

By the time he reached his early teens, he was under the tutelage of Carlo Altenberg, an art professor at the University of Alberta, who exposed the young Denesuline to the work of European modernists such as Vassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee and Joan Miro.

After high school, Janvier studied at Alberta’s Provincial School of Technology and Art in Calgary, now the Alberta University of the Arts. He studied with prominent artists, including Illingworth Kerr and Marion Nicoll.

In 1962, after a brief teaching stint, Janvier took up painting full time — a risky proposition for an Indigenous artist when such work was considered of more ethnological than artistic interest. Still, Janvier was able to make a living as a painter, illustrator and occasional instructor.

Janvier married Jacqueline Wolowski in 1968. They would eventually have six children.

Opening doors for Indigenous artists

In 1973, with other First Nations artists Norval Morrisseau, Daphne Odjig and Jackson Beardy, he helped found the Professional Native Indian Artists Incorporation to bring their work to the mainstream.

“We had to open a lot of doors,” Janvier recalled. A show in a Montreal gallery was the group’s first, and others followed.

“We finally got that rubber stamp and other gallery owners started to open their doors.”

Since then, Janvier’s work has been shown in galleries across Canada, as well as in Sweden, Paris, London, New York and Los Angeles.

WATCH | 1993’s unveiling of Janvier’s massive mural on a museum’s domed ceiling: 

‘Morning Star’ shines at Museum of Civilization

31 years ago

Duration 4:50

Celebrated artist Alex Janvier has just finished painting a striking mural on the ceiling of Ottawa’s Museum of Civilization in 1993.

It is widely collected, and commissioned work hangs in the National Gallery and the Royal Alberta Museum, as well as schools, commercial offices, municipal buildings and band offices from coast to coast.

His massive mosaic, Iron Foot Place, has greeted thousands of hockey fans at Edmonton’s Rogers Place, home of the Edmonton Oilers of the National Hockey League.

He also designed a $200 coin for the Royal Canadian Mint.

Unlike many other First Nations artists of his generation, Janvier’s work tends not to come directly from traditional legends and stories. He draws equally on the patterns and bright colours of traditional Denesuline beadwork and the work of painters such as Kandinsky.

But his renowned flowing lines and intricate designs are all his own.

Though generally abstract, Janvier did react to the world around him on his canvasses.

In 1988, his painting Lubicon, with its shocking reds, expressed his anger at how that First Nation was being treated. He completed a series about his time in the residential school, including one called Apple Factory. The Oka crisis in 1990 inspired him to paint O’Kanada.

He received numerous honorary degrees and awards, including the Order of Canada, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation, the Queen Elizabeth Diamond Jubilee Medal and membership in the Royal Canadian Academy of the Arts.

In 2003, Janvier and members of his family opened the Janvier Gallery in Cold Lake, not far from where he was born. Visitors could sometimes meet the artist fresh from the studio, covered in paint-splattered jeans and happy to sit and chat.

He painted into his last days, keeping his fingers nimble by assembling jigsaw puzzles at night.

“I am a free man because I can create,” he wrote in 2016. “I thank the Great Spirit for my family and for being able to express myself through my paintings.

“When I die, I want to have a paintbrush in my hand.”

One of Canada’s greatest painters, who wedded Indigenous elements to the mainstream of modern art, has died.

Alex Janvier, whose thousands of works hang in private homes and public galleries across the country, was 89.

“Painting says it all for me,” Janvier said in a statement in 2012. “It is the Redmantalk in colour, in North America’s language. Our Creator’s voice in colour.”

Officials at the Assembly of First Nations annual general meeting announced the death and held a moment of silence in the artist’s honour on Wednesday.

Janvier was born Feb. 28, 1935, on the Cold Lake Indian Reserve, now Cold Lake First Nations, northeast of Edmonton. His father, Harry Janvier, was the band’s last hereditary chief before federal law forced election officials on the band.

One of 10 children, Alex Janvier grew up on the land, hunting, fishing and trapping, as well as farming. At the age of eight, he was sent to the Blue Quills Residential School near St. Paul, Alta.

“That kind of story does a lot of unusual things to your life,” Janvier recalled. “It tears your language, culture and beliefs. They probably removed a lot of it.”

But at the school Janvier had access to pencils, crayons, watercolour paints and lots of paper. By the time he reached his early teens, he was under the tutelage of Carlo Altenberg, an art professor at the University of Alberta, who exposed the young Denesuline to the work of European modernists such as Vassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee and Joan Miro.

After high school, Janvier studied at Alberta’s Provincial School of Technology and Art in Calgary, now the Alberta University of the Arts. He studied with prominent artists, including Illingworth Kerr and Marion Nicoll.

In 1962, after a brief teaching stint, Janvier took up painting full time – a risky proposition for an Indigenous artist when such work was considered of more ethnological than artistic interest. Still, Janvier was able to make a living as a painter, illustrator and occasional instructor.

Janvier married Jacqueline Wolowski in 1968. They would eventually have six children.

In 1973, with other First Nations artists Norval Morrisseau, Daphne Odjig and Jackson Beardy, he helped found the so-called Indian Group of Seven – more formally known as the Professional Native Indian Artists Incorporation – to bring their work to the mainstream.

“We had to open a lot of doors,” Janvier recalled. A show in a Montreal gallery was the group’s first, and others followed.

“We finally got that rubber stamp and other gallery owners started to open their doors.”

Since then, Janvier’s work has been shown in galleries across Canada, as well as in Sweden, Paris, London, New York and Los Angeles.

It is widely collected, and commissioned work hangs in the National Gallery and the Royal Alberta Museum, as well as schools, commercial offices, municipal buildings and band offices from coast to coast.

His massive mosaic, Iron Foot Place, has greeted thousands of hockey fans at Edmonton’s Rogers Place, home of the Edmonton Oilers of the National Hockey League.

He also designed a $200 coin for the Royal Canadian Mint.

Unlike many other First Nations artists of his generation, Janvier’s work tends not to come directly from traditional legends and stories. He draws equally on the patterns and bright colours of traditional Denesuline beadwork and the work of painters such as Kandinsky.

But his renowned flowing lines and intricate designs are all his own.

Though generally abstract, Janvier did react to the world around him on his canvasses.

In 1988, his painting Lubicon, with its shocking reds, expressed his anger at how that First Nation was being treated. He completed a series about his time in the residential school, including one called Apple Factory. The Oka crisis in 1990 inspired him to paint O’Kanada.

He received numerous honorary degrees and awards, including the Order of Canada, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation, the Queen Elizabeth Diamond Jubilee Medal and membership in the Royal Canadian Academy of the Arts.

In 2003, Janvier and members of his family opened the Janvier Gallery in Cold Lake, not far from where he was born. Visitors could sometimes meet the artist fresh from the studio, covered in paint-splattered jeans and happy to sit and chat.

He painted into his last days, keeping his fingers nimble by assembling jigsaw puzzles at night.

“I am a free man because I can create,” he wrote in 2016. “I thank the Great Spirit for my family and for being able to express myself through my paintings.

“When I die, I want to have a paintbrush in my hand.”

One of Canada’s greatest painters, who wedded Indigenous elements to the mainstream of modern art, has died.

Alex Janvier, whose thousands of works hang in private homes and public galleries across the country, was 89.

“Painting says it all for me,” Janvier said in a statement in 2012. “It is the Redman talk in colour, in North America’s language. Our Creator’s voice in colour.”

Officials at the Assembly of First Nations annual general meeting announced the death and held a moment of silence in the artist’s honour on Wednesday.

Janvier was born Feb. 28, 1935, on the Cold Lake Indian Reserve, now Cold Lake First Nations, northeast of Edmonton. His father, Harry Janvier, was the band’s last hereditary chief before federal law forced elected officials on the band.

One of 10 children, Alex Janvier grew up on the land, hunting, fishing and trapping, as well as farming. At the age of eight, he was sent to the Blue Quills Residential School near St. Paul, Alta.

“That kind of story does a lot of unusual things to your life,” Janvier recalled. “It tears your language, culture and beliefs. They probably removed a lot of it.”

But at the school Janvier had access to pencils, crayons, watercolour paints and lots of paper. By the time he reached his early teens, he was under the tutelage of Carlo Altenberg, an art professor at the University of Alberta, who exposed the young Denesuline to the work of European modernists such as Wassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee and Joan Miro.

Artist Alex Janvier works at his studio in Cold Lake First Nations 149B Alta, on Wednesday February 8, 2017. (Alex Janvier/The Canadian Press)

After high school, Janvier studied at Alberta’s Provincial Institute of Technology and Art in Calgary, now the Alberta University of the Arts. He studied with prominent artists, including Illingworth Kerr and Marion Nicoll.

In 1962, after a brief teaching stint, Janvier took up painting full time — a risky proposition for an Indigenous artist when such work was considered of more ethnological than artistic interest. Still, Janvier was able to make a living as a painter, illustrator and occasional instructor.

Janvier married Jacqueline Wolowski in 1968. They would eventually have six children.

In 1973, with other First Nations artists Norval Morrisseau, Daphne Odjig and Jackson Beardy, he helped found the so-called Indian Group of Seven — more formally known as the Professional Native Indian Artists Inc. — to bring their work to the mainstream.

“We had to open a lot of doors,” Janvier recalled. A show in a Montreal gallery was the group’s first, and others followed.

“We finally got that rubber stamp and other gallery owners started to open their doors.”

Since then, Janvier’s work has been shown in galleries across Canada, as well as in Sweden, Paris, London, New York and Los Angeles.

It is widely collected, and commissioned work hangs in the National Gallery and the Royal Alberta Museum, as well as schools, commercial offices, municipal buildings and band offices from coast to coast.

His massive mosaic, Iron Foot Place, has greeted thousands of hockey fans at Edmonton’s Rogers Place, home of the Edmonton Oilers of the National Hockey League.

He also designed a $200 coin for the Royal Canadian Mint.

Unlike many other First Nations artists of his generation, Janvier’s work tends not to come directly from traditional legends and stories. He draws equally on the patterns and bright colours of traditional Denesuline beadwork and the work of painters such as Kandinsky.

But his renowned flowing lines and intricate designs are all his own.

Though generally abstract, Janvier did react to the world around him on his canvasses.

Artist Alex Janvier pictured at his gallery in Cold Lake First Nations 149B Alta, on Wednesday February 8, 2017. (Jason Franson/The Canadian Press)

In 1988, his painting Lubicon, with its shocking reds, expressed his anger at how that First Nation was being treated. He completed a series about his time in the residential school, including one called Apple Factory. The Oka crisis in 1990 inspired him to paint O’Kanada.

He received numerous honorary degrees and awards, including the Order of Canada, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation, the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal and membership in the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts.

In 2003, Janvier and members of his family opened the Janvier Gallery in Cold Lake, not far from where he was born. Visitors could sometimes meet the artist fresh from the studio, covered in paint-splattered jeans and happy to sit and chat.

He painted into his last days, keeping his fingers nimble by assembling jigsaw puzzles at night.

“I am a free man because I can create,” he wrote in 2016. “I thank the Great Spirit for my family and for being able to express myself through my paintings.

“When I die, I want to have a paintbrush in my hand.”

This report by The Canadian Press was first published July 10, 2024

First appearing in Tulsa last November, the store was so popular that it stayed open for months longer than anticipated. Now, the shop is popping up again at the Museum of Broken Arrow.

Osage, Otoe-Missouria and Pawnee co-founder and artist Jessica Harjo says as Indigichic’s popularity grows, so does their passion for creating.

“We’re also redefining fine art,” said Harjo. “And Native art is part of that conversation.”

According to Harjo, Inidgichic plans to open a full-time store. Their next appearance is set for later this year back in Tulsa.

The hand-tailored pieces are on display and for sale in the museum’s gallery. Anyone interested can visit the store until the end of July.

Whether in a somber performance in the National Portrait Gallery or in her wry takes on Native humor, Anna Tsouhlarakis follows her heart

Anna Tsouhlarakis was a self-described “math and science nerd” in high school, even representing the United States at the International Science and Engineering Fair in her senior year. But while studying at Dartmouth College, she took classes that interested her, particularly studio art and Native American Studies.

“That’s where my heart was—and still is,” Tsouhlarakis says. Math and science nerds might not be expected to love art, but following her heart—and contravening stereotypes—was a wise choice.

In recent years, Tsouhlarakis’ art has appeared as a solo exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver and New York City’s Independent Art Fair, and it has appeared in Switzerland, Greece, Canada and in dozens of venues in the United States. In 2023, she performed and exhibited her work in the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C.

Just as she broadened the notion of what might interest a budding scientist, she now transcends stereotypes of what constitutes Native American art. Tsouhlarakis, an assistant professor of art and art history at the University of Colorado Boulder, works in sculpture, installation, video and performance and is of Navajo, Creek and Greek descent.

At the National Portrait Gallery, her work drew on those strengths and backgrounds. There, she performed and showed Portrait of an Indigenous Womxn [Removed], which commemorated murdered and missing indigenous women and girls.

In 2018, the Urban Indian Health Institute released an extensive study on missing and murdered indigenous women. As of 2016, there were 5,712 reports of missing American Indian and Alaska Native women, but only 116 were logged into the Department of Justice’s database, the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System.

“I knew there was nobody more important that I could highlight in terms of their story,” Tsouhlarakis observed. Her work featured missing-person posters of indigenous women. In a video recording of one performance, she carries a sculpture topped with a poster seeking information about Kaysera Stops Pretty Places, who was murdered in 2019 in Montana.

Tsouhlarakis notes that most of her art is not activist, but rather expands upon long-held expectations of Native American art. Her father is a Navajo silversmith, and she grew up going with him to art markets, shows and galleries.

“There was this expectation of Native art to always be beautiful, and for the aesthetic to be very perfect and for it to be very serious,” she observed, adding that she rebelled against those expectations.

“I want to make things that question that expectation of Native American art, and for me, humor does that as well.” That humor was evident in her 2023 exhibition titled “Indigenous Absurdities,” at MCA Denver.

Tsouhlarakis, who is the mother of three young children, described a key moment in which Native humor seemed an obvious way to frame Native art. While at a powwow in Montana, she overheard two Crow women conversing.

“One said, ‘You never come by to see me,’ and the other responded that she didn’t know where she lived,” Tsouhlarakis told a New York writer. “Then, one said that the other didn’t ever call them, and she said: ‘Well, you don’t even have a phone.’ Then they just burst out laughing—like almost falling off the bench.”

Such everyday observations underlie textual work like HER FRYBREAD ISN’T THAT GOOD and HER BRAIDS ARE ALWAYS TOO LOOSE. Humor, Tsouhlarakis noted, is a good coping mechanism in times of hardship, which Native communities know very well.

Tsouhlarakis’ art has been recognized and supported by a host of organizations. This year, she won a Corrina Mehl Fellowship from S.O.U.R.C.E. Studio and a Smithsonian Artist Research Fellowship, and she’s also been recognized with more than two dozen other awards and fellowships. Also this year, she has artist residencies in New Hampshire and Maine.

In addition to her BA from Dartmouth, Tsouhlarakis holds an MFA from Yale University. She joined the CU Boulder faculty in 2019.

Top image: Performance of Anna Tsouhlarakis’ “Portrait of an Indigenous Womxn [Removed]” (2023) at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. (Photo: Matailong Du/courtesy Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery)

Did you enjoy this article? Subcribe to our newsletter. Passionate about art and art history? Show your support.