Art: Courtesy Donald Ellis Gallery and David Nolan Gallery

What does genocide look like? A plaintive, pathos-filled exhibition at David Nolan Gallery of 87 Native American ledger drawings — named after the ledger books that the artists appropriated as material for their work — from the 19th century offers an answer. Many of the drawings were made in a prisoner-of-war camp in St. Augustine, Florida, where dozens of members of the tribes of the Great Plains were incarcerated amid a brutal U.S. military campaign of relocation and displacement. The drawings depict, with a simplicity that belies their sophistication, heartrending scenes of imprisonment, isolation, and forced assimilation as well as glorious celebrations of a way of life outside the prison walls that was already receding into oblivion.

“Fort Marion and Beyond: Native American Ledger Drawings, 1865–1900” has been beautifully organized by genius obsessive Donald Ellis, a Vancouver-based private dealer who showed a handful of similar drawings at the 2017 Frieze Art Fair. The current exhibition is timed for Master Drawings New York in the hopes that curators might rectify the inexplicable and disappointing arm’s-length stance the art world has so far adopted toward this work. (Much of this work is found in ethnographic and natural-history museums and libraries.) The drawings may appear crude, featuring blank or ruled backgrounds that have been decorated with colored pencils — people, horses, and tepees. Encouraged by the prison’s commander, who attempted to assimilate these warriors by cutting their hair and stripping them of their traditional clothes, they drew these pictures to sell to whites and eke out a living. But what they made is visionary art, incorporating the traditions of semi-nomadic tribes, such as hide-painting, all under a sophisticated system of narrative and space.

Start in the gallery with the Fort Marion drawings, where you can see two hallucinogenic pictures of the trains that brought nearly 80 Native Americans to their new “home” in St. Augustine. One was made by Nokkoist (Bear’s Heart) when he was 25. (He died at 31 from tuberculosis contracted probably from colonists.) Another drawing by Bear’s Heart features a landscape of evergreens surrounding buildings with hills along one side: a nearby island. There is a ship manned by what at first seem like soldiers — in reality, they are prisoners outfitted in U.S. military uniforms, taught to sail and give white people tours of their prison camp. In another drawing, the fort’s interior is seen from a God’s-eye view. There are dozens of uniformed men, most Native American prisoners whose hair has been shorn. We see them marching two by two in the yard. It hits you with horrible force that, in the most ghastly sense, there had never been Native American art quite like this before.

There are also visions of the past. We see Native American ceremonies: the sun dance; a meeting between Cheyenne and Pawnee; a successful buffalo hunt; tribespeople in full warrior regalia, decked out in feathers. There’s a gut-wrenching warrior procession: dozens of fighters on horses arrayed in different colors, the line curving like a kind of snake to stay within the borders of the piece of paper. Two drawings depict Cheyenne warriors, each labeled with their names: Roman Nose, Squint Eyes, Making Medicine, Little Chief, Cohoe, and Shave Head. The format is formal, the figures flat, with subtle shifts between the foreground and background. Each horse is labeled, simply, “horse” — a word written by artists learning to communicate in English.

It is tempting to see subversion or resistance in these drawings, but I am more struck by their clarity and honesty. The great depth of this art comes from the witness the artists bore, the atrocities they lived through with the steadiest and truest of gazes. They ask you to open your eyes as they did so that you might see.

This story originally aired on Marketplace on Feb. 14.

Mikailah Thompson is an Indigenous beadwork artist based in Washington, D.C. When she was 10 years old, Thompson moved to the Nimiipuu reservation in North-Central Idaho where she lived with her grandmother, Chloe Halfmoon, who taught her how to bead.

Now, Thompson has made a business out of her beadwork. Thanks to the recent success of Beadwork by Mikailah, she was able to start a second business, Indigenous Creatives, a creative agency that works to spotlight Native American artists.

You can listen to her full story using the media player above or read a transcript of her story below:

My name is Mikailah Thompson, owner of Beadwork by Mikailah, LLC. I’m from the Nimiipuu reservation in Lapwai, Idaho. I currently reside in Washington, D.C.

I am a full-time artist, and I do an art form called beadwork. So it’s a traditional art form — Native American art form — where you’re basically tacking down a couple beads at a time, and you’re making regalia, you’re making accessories.

I grew up on the East Coast, and I moved to Lapwai, Idaho, at the age of 10. When I did get there, I was living with my grandmother — my maternal grandmother, Chloe Halfmoon. And she had stacks and stacks of beads just in her closet. And so she basically just said, “Yeah, I’ll teach you how to bead.” Ever since then, I’ve been beading.

I finally decided to kind of jump into going into business three years ago and haven’t looked back since. It’s been a great decision. When I first started pricing, I started pricing my hats, for example, at $500. And then I bumped it up a little bit more because I realized how quickly they were selling — they were still selling pretty quickly. [I] went to $800. $800 was a little bit of a steep stretch, because I realized some people weren’t buying as quickly. So I decided to go back to $700; that became my price.

What a lot of people don’t realize is, you know, what you’re paying for isn’t time. Like, I get that question a lot: “How long did this take?” You know, well, technically, it took all of my 30 years of life, because I hadn’t had this experience. I had to see this in certain ways. So that’s kind of been my journey with pricing.

Because of the success of my beadwork business — which is still growing, there’s still the long-term goals — but I had the opportunity of starting a second business, called Indigenous Creatives, which is a creative agency. We focus on multimedia and events. And so the whole purpose of that is being able to showcase Native creatives and Black-Native creatives, just as myself, and being able to support those dreams and those goals of those artists.

So it all kind of comes from my journey of being an artist and realizing, “Hey, this is what I love to do. I’m representing my community. I’m representing my culture, and I don’t have to rely on a 9-to-5 that I’m not passionate about. I can do what I love and still do all of those things.”

This series is part of Marketplace’s “My Economy” series, which tells the story of the new economic normal through the eyes of people trying to make it, because we know the only numbers that really matter are the ones in your economy.

Sensing Sasquatch, a new exhibition that will explore Sasquatch’s past, present, and future within the High Desert Region through an Indigenous lens, opens March 2 at the High Desert Museum in Bend, Oregon.

Popular depictions of Sasquatch can be found all over America, from t-shirts and road signs to beer cans and traveling mugs. Before you enter the exhibition, visitors will be asked to leave behind these ideas and perceptions and consider another side of Sasquatch’s story. 

Visitors will then be introduced to the Indigenous Plateau of the High Desert and the arid forests and canyonlands where Native peoples have long come into contact with and exchanged their stories about Sasquatch. Here, you will see representations, stories, and artwork about Sasquatch and how they vary between tribes across the regions. 

For many tribes across North America, Sasquatch is regarded as an elder, a relative, and a spiritual guide who appears to deliver important messages to humans. When Sasquatch suddenly comes into view and interacts with humans, it can be a life-changing experience. 

Sensing Sasquatch will feature work by five Indigenous artists, including Phillip Cash Cash (Nez Perce/Cayuse), HollyAnna CougarTracks DeCoteau Littlebull (Yakama/Nez Perce/Cayuse/Cree), Charlene “Tillie” Dimmick (Warm Springs), Frank Buffalo Hyde (Nez Perce/Onondaga) and Rocky LaRock (Salish).

Native News Online sat down with artist Hyde to talk about how he became an artist, how his parents divorce led him to see the world differently, what visitors can expect to see from his work, and what he hopes audiences will take away from the exhibition. 

Hyde attended the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico. His work is featured in permanent collections around the United States and was recently featured in Showtime’s “The Curse.” His artwork is described as bold, culturally relevant, and inspiring, featuring vibrant colors and animal subjects, most commonly buffalo and his tribe. 

You can check out his work on his website, Facebook, and Instagram. 

NNO: How and when did you begin your artwork career?

Hyde: I have artists on both sides of my family, so I’ve been around art my entire life. My uncle’s are all painters and sculptors and my father is a sculptor. I was 21 when I made a conscious decision to pursue art as a career vocation. I was in a group exhibition with my charcoal drawings when I was in high school and I think that kind of had an impact on me, as well as being young and having a gallery take me seriously. It kind of gave me the validation that I needed to make that decision and go forward.

NNO: Where are you from and how does that influence your artwork? 

Hyde: That’s really an important part of who I am and how I see the world. I was born in Santa Fe, New Mexico, but I was raised an equal amount of time on the Onondaga Nation as well. My parents divorced when I was 3 years old. I’ve been going back and forth between New Mexico and New York my entire life because of the conditions of the divorce. It led me to see a wide variety of creative people within different environments and really gave me a perspective that there was an art world or a world beyond the borders of my reserve. Having that close community and cultural knowledge really strengthened my resolve as a person in my worldview about the environment and politics.

NNO: What is your intention within your artwork?

Hyde: Why I started to make art is because I would look at the “contemporary Native American art” magazines and see that not a lot of artists were making work that commented on the current life of an Indigenous person. 

It started out that we, as Indigenous people, live in two different dimensions. But now in 2024, we live in multiple realities. We are heavily involved within parts of society, which wasn’t the case 25 to 30 years ago. Now we’re a lot more educated and in a position to tell our own stories and our own narratives. 

For my work, it’s always been about redefining what people think contemporary Native art is, and taking it to different places. I try to make it a little bit easier for the artists that are coming along behind us to not feel that demand or issue of your work having to be Indigenous enough or not. I don’t ask for permission for what I do and I don’t restrict myself to any preconceived notions of what native art is.

NNO: Can you describe some of the artwork you will have displayed at the upcoming Sensing Sasquatch exhibition?

 Hyde:  The High Desert Museum commissioned me to make a piece specifically for the exhibit. It’s going to be a combination of part painting, installation, sculpture, and experience. I wanted to make something that combined a lot of my interests, and also wanted to make something that would be interesting for the viewers to interact with that they maybe have not seen before.  

I hope that audiences will have a different level of reverence for Sasquatch instead of the tourist plywood cutout version.

NNO: Can you tell me what Sasquatch represents to you? 

Hyde:  My older sister is into paranormal things and cryptozoology. So, you know, being a nosy and annoying little brother, I was always into the stuff that she was into. Whenever she would leave the house, I’d go into a room and play her guitars, turn her records on, and read her books. So by proxy, I got interested in those things.

Culturally, also, I recognize that there are certain things that exist that are ancient that have always been here. There are certain things that are medicine that are here to help us and that are to be respected. In my mind there’s a popular cultural version of Bigfoot, but I also recognize Bigfoot or Sasquatch as medicine. I recognize the entity as something that is not here to harm anyone, but it is an extension of humanity and is here to help and nurture just like a relative. 

NNO: What do you hope audiences will take away from your artwork at the exhibit? 

HYDE: I hope that audiences will have a different level of reverence for Sasquatch instead of the tourist plywood cutout version. That’s what most people think of when they think of Sasquatch. They think it is an attraction or just some sort of anomaly like the Easter Bunny. It would be great if I could get a conversation started that there is actually a whole group of people out in the world that don’t question Sasquatch’s existence and that there is a very deep respect for the being itself.

More Stories Like This

Shelly Lowe, First Native American Chair of The National Endowment for the Humanities, Visits Chicago
First Nation’s Fund Awards $25,000 Each to Community Spirit Award Recipients
Native American Basketball Invitational To Be Held at Grand Canyon University in July
Here’s What’s Going in Indian Country, February 8th —14th

About The Author

Author: Kaili BergEmail: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

Staff Reporter

Kaili Berg (Aleut) is a member of the Alutiiq/Sugpiaq Nation, and a shareholder of Koniag, Inc. She is a staff reporter for Native News Online and Tribal Business News. Berg, who is based in Wisconsin, previously reported for the Ho-Chunk Nation newspaper, Hocak Worak. She went to school originally for nursing, but changed her major after finding her passion in communications at Western Technical College in Lacrosse, Wisconsin.

Minnetonka moccasins, two and a half years after apologizing for cultural misappropriation, has relaunched its best-known style after a redesign by a Red Lake Nation artist.

The Thunderbird, first introduced in the 1950s, is now Animikii. Graphic designer and activist Lucie Skjefte, a citizen of Red Lake Nation, reimagined the shoe’s beading work. It is named after her son, whose name coincidentally shares similar meaning as thunderbird in the Ojibwe language.

“The Thunderbird is one of our top-selling shoes and one of our most recognizable, so it’s been important to us to think about it related to our reconciliation work and the idea of redesigning it with an amazing artist like Lucy is such a privilege,” Minnetonka President Jori Miller Sherer said.

The Animikii style will go on sale Tuesday for a suggested retail price of $54.95 to $67.95 for adults and $44.95 for children. .

Skjefte also has worked on other projects for Minnetonka, the company said. Minnetonka, a private company, declined to share sales figures.

The company for several years has taken steps to reconcile its success as a white family-owned firm that made products largely from the ideas and traditions of Native Americans. The police killing of George Floyd in May 2020 became a tipping point in its reckoning process, as it did across American businesses and institutions.

In fall 2020, it posted a statement called “Our Commitment to the Native American Community” on its website. Minnetonka hired Adrienne Benjamin, an Anishinaabe artist and member of the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe, as a reconciliation adviser in 2020.

Formerly known as Minnetonka Moccasin Co., the company issued a formal apology in October 2021 for adopting Native American culture without acknowledgment.

The company, which dropped “moccasin” from its logo in 2008, then removed the word from much of its corporate messaging and called itself simply Minnetonka. The company said it would start working more closely with Native American artists and businesses and continue to contribute to Native American causes.

Through Benjamin’s work, Minnetonka has been working with Indigenous designers to empower them artistically, giving them freer rein to rework appropriated styles and offering lifetime royalties for each redesign.

“This is a bigger moment to show that people can change and forgiveness can happen,” Benjamin said.

For this launch, in addition to lifetime royalties, the Minnetonka team filed the image’s copyright in Skjefte’s name — ensuring that she is the sole owner of her design.

Minnetonka calls this a game changing tactic in the fashion and footwear industry and showcases that if a family-owned brand like Minnetonka can do this, others can follow suit.

“Minnetonka’s support is another way I feel immensely empowered as a designer,” Skjefte said. “I could really see myself elevating and collaborating with more indigienous artists and bringing them into the fold.”

Collection Tweed Museum of Art, art by Rabbett Before Horses Strickland

A new show at the University of Minnesota’s Katherine E. Nash Gallery titled “Dreaming Our Futures: Ojibwe and Očhéthi Šakówiŋ Artists and Knowledge Keepers” showcases an impressive range of perspectives and aesthetic approaches across the work of 29 Indigenous painters and multimedia artists. The truly momentous exhibition marks the opening of the George Morrison Center for Indigenous arts and will travel across Minnesota throughout 2024. The show is on view at the Katherine E. Nash Gallery through March 16.

Collection Tweed Museum of Art, art by Dyani White Hawk

The show’s title, “Dreaming Our Futures,” calls to mind critical positions like Indigenous Futurism and, more specifically, Diné photographer Will Wilson’s practice of “remembering the future.” If colonial linear time’s telos is the erasure of Indigenous people and the complete extraction of resources (to fatally toxic and radioactive ends), then the process of “remembering the future” seeks to disrupt this narrative formation by introducing alternative, non-linear temporalities—to dream futures wherein Indigenous life has persisted and culture and sovereignty have been recovered in the face of total destruction.

Collection of Plains Art Museum, art by Andrea Carlson

In “Dreaming Our Futures,” artists tell these stories, and the exhibition is a must-see. Included among the impressive roster of artists is Dyani White Hawk (Sičaŋǧu Lakota), recently awarded the MacArthur Fellowship “Genius Grant.” Much of White Hawk’s work combines reference to Lakota textile patterns with “Western” modes of abstraction, drawing attention to the ways the development of contemporary abstract art is inextricable from (often unrecognized) Indigenous abstract aesthetic practices. Her monumental painting “Untitled (Quiet Strength III)” evokes the subtle coloring and precise gridwork of abstract painter Agnes Martin. Upon closer inspection, White Hawk has performed a subtle inversion; the grids have been spliced, tilted, and offset to create a more geometrically dynamic pattern, and the multi-tonal stripes that the grid comprises in fact resemble traditional porcupine quillwork. The painting can thus be said to be abstract and representational, its referent being the entangled histories of easel-painting and Indigenous textile-making.

My favorite artworks in the exhibition are a collection of paintings by Rabbet Before Horses Strickland (Red Cliff Band of Anishinaabe). I think it appropriate to call his paintings powerhouses of narrative form, art-historical reference, and composition. Perhaps it was my recent, rather disappointing encounter with Botticelli’s “Primavera” bubbling over, but encountering Strickland’s “Searching for Nokomis” for the first time felt like a punch in the gut. The painter’s study of the techniques and forms of Renaissance and Baroque masters is certainly evident but does in no way overwhelm Strickland’s singular vision. Utilizing and revitalizing familiar “Western” forms and formats to communicate traditional scenes from Ojibwe mythology and storytelling, Strickland creates an immensely evocative, dream-like world, subverting the traditional (Christian or classical Greco-Roman mythological) subject matter endemic to the genre.

On the third floor of the historic Turnblad Mansion, a part of the American Swedish Institute, screenprinted archival photos of Sámi people, who are indigenous to the northernmost parts of Sweden, Finland, Norway and Russia, hang from the ceiling and drawings of a herd of reindeer grace the walls.

“Mygration” portrays the eight seasons of the Sápmi, including the Sámi concept of time and the life of the reindeer, and photos of Sámi immigrants to Alaska around 1900 during a government-sponsored emigration of Sámi and reindeer from Nordic countries to Canada and Alaska. Sámi were offered a chance to teach reindeer husbandry to Inuit people. This installation, which also exists at All My Relations Gallery, emphasizes the ways that migration is an individual and group experience with an emphasis on the “my” aspect.

“When you walk around the installation, you move and the exhibition moves with you, so you are part of a movement that creates time, but also creates the history — the past, present and future,” said Swedish artist Stina Folkebrant, who worked on this with Sámi artist Tomas Colbengtson. “How can we handle these three stages? Because we’re here now, but we’re going to be carrying the history with us.”

“Mygration” is a part of the joint exhibitions “Arctic Highways: Unbounded Indigenous People,” with work by 12 Indigenous artists from Sámi territories, and the group exhibition “Okizi (To Heal)” at All My Relations Gallery, where artists collectively explore the healing impacts of cultural revitalization.

At the University of Minnesota’s Nash Gallery, the opening of “Dreaming Our Futures: Ojibwe and Očhéthi Šakówiŋ Artists and Knowledge Keepers” features 29 midcentury and contemporary Native painters, primarily Dakota and Ojibwe, and others who have ties to the region. Simultaneously, that show marks the opening of the George Morrison Center for Indigenous Arts, an interdepartmental study center named after the Grand Portage Ojibwe artist and U faculty member, who was a pivotal player in the abstract expressionism movement.

The sharing and collaboration of the shows at ASI and All My Relations is meant to show the similarities that Indigenous people from different parts of the world share and the ways that colonialism has affected culture.

“It is a true partnership across institutions, which is a very Indigenous way of being in relationship with one another, which is a different way of doing things for museums, and it’s the way museums should operate,” Minnesota Museum of American Art Executive Director Kate Beane said.

Colbengtson, who is Sámi, noted how much Indigenous visibility has increased during the past 10 years, yet the impacts of colonialism loom.

“Although you have your traditional practice, even the reindeer are colonized,” he said. “That’s the central part of the culture that’s colonized.”

In “Arctic Highways,” visual splendor abounds throughout the American Swedish Institute. Finnish Sámi photographer Marja Helander’s otherworldly pictures capture the effects of mining in Canada. Dan Jåma’s documentary videos explore the ways that the installation of green energy wind turbines on Sámi land disrupts the migration path of reindeer, central to the Sámi way of life. Canadian Inuvialuk artist Maureen Gruben‘s haunting photographs of three old and deteriorating polar bear rugs — gifted to her from another museum — propped up on tripods in frozen areas abandoned by oil companies tell the story of the melting polar ice caps. (She tried to bring the actual piece to the exhibition, but U.S. Customs and Border Protection did not allow it.)

In “Okizi (To Heal)” at All My Relations Gallery, a wide range of Indigenous artists explore cultural revitalization. Adrienne J. Keene uses traditional Cherokee art forms like basketry, mixed with contemporary and found materials like LED lights and wire to form a purse and a basket. Athabascan artist Gidinatiy Hartman‘s two prints show a drawing of a model dolled up in Athabascan fashion, like a parka with snowflake patterns.

Ojibwe and Ochethi Sakowin artists

“Dreaming Our Futures” at the U’s Nash Gallery, organized by Prof. Brenda J. Child (Red Lake Ojibwe) and gallery director Howard Oransky, includes artists such as MacArthur “genius” grant award winner Dyani White Hawk (Sičáŋǧu Lakota), beloved Ojibwe artist Jim Denomie, Cole Redhorse Taylor, who recently designed the Minnesota Wild goalie mask acquired by the Minnesota Historical Society (MNHS), as well as artists like David Bradley, who went to art school in Santa Fe, N.M., and stayed there.

With these exhibitions happening, as well as Artspace Projects’ second year of Pathways: A Native Space Initiative and the MNHS Native American Artists-in-Residence program, now in its 10th year, is visibility for Indigenous artists in the region having a moment?

“When you look at the ways in which artists like Dyani White Hawk are at the Whitney Biennial [in 2022], and the impact of Minnesota across the nation, Native artists in Minnesota are being seen more broadly across the nation,” Beane said. “Historically, we’ve kind of had to go elsewhere to be seen, and what’s really interesting for me, as a Lakota person, is that Minnesota is the center, it’s the heart of the world.”

“Arctic Highways: Unbounded Indigenous People” at American Swedish Institute, 2600 Park Av. S., Mpls., 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Tue., Wed., Fri.-Sun., 10 a.m.-8 p.m. Thu. Ends May 26.

“Okizi (To Heal)” at All My Relations Gallery, 1414 E Franklin Av., Mpls.,10 a.m.-5 p.m. Tue.-Fri., noon-3 p.m. Sat. Ends April 13.

“Dreaming Our Futures: Ojibwe and Očhéthi Šakówiŋ Artists and Knowledge Keepers” at the U’s Nash Gallery, 405 21st Av. S., Mpls.,11 a.m.-5 p.m. Tue.-Sat. Ends March 13.

When Melody McKiver came across a collection of Indigenous love songs transcribed by anthropologists in the early 1900s, the title of one stood out to her: I Don’t Need You Anymore.

“Our ancestors had breakup songs too,” said McKiver, an assistant professor of Indigenous music at the University of Manitoba who is from Obishikokaang First Nation in northwestern Ontario.

The song’s lyrics described a man standing on the shore, while a woman leaves in a canoe, drifting out into the water. McKiver wondered where the woman was going — and perhaps, whether she might be off to meet someone else.

“What if she’s not going for another man? What if she’s leaving for another woman? What if she’s leaving for a two-spirit person?” they said.

Now McKiver is creating new interpretations of these century-old manuscripts, originally documented by non-Indigenous researchers, to put a spotlight on queer love. There’s been an “explosion” of queer and two-spirit literature and film as well as music, making it an exciting time for queer creators even compared to five or 10 years ago, they said.

Love stories abound in entertainment, and are practically inescapable in most genres of popular music. McKiver and other Indigenous artists are part of that broadening conversation by bringing 2SLGBTQ+ love stories to the forefront, changing the tune on a largely heteronormative landscape.

Language to break the ‘limits of our mind’

Music has a uniquely powerful ability to broach new language or unfamiliar topics, according to transgender Anishinaabe and Métis musician G.R. Gritt.

“What music can do is, it bypasses people’s defensiveness and, I think, can hit them in their mind and their heart” in a way that might be more difficult in conversation, said Gritt, whose latest album Prisms features a queer love song co-written with Tessa and Peter Balez.

“You know, it’s catchy, you’re singing along, and then you all of a sudden realize like, oh, I’m seeing all these different pronouns,” they said.

“You want to sing along, and then all of a sudden you’re like, oh, I just learned something, you know? Yeah, I think that’s the power of music.”

For Jeremy Dutcher, telling queer love stories is about giving people the language to learn more about themselves. After all, “the limits of our language are the limits of our mind,” according to the Juno Award and Polaris Prize-winning artist who is Wolastoqiyik and a member of the Tobique First Nation in North-West New Brunswick.

“When I came out really young, all I had access to was the word gay, right?” he said. “Only when we can name something can we fully come into it.”

It’s a wildly different perspective compared to those of the Western researchers who looked at Indigenous art with a colonialist lens, McKiver said, not to mention, those working for the Church, which was hostile to 2SLGBTQ+ people no matter where they came from, they added.

If the songs from the 1900s may have had queer subtexts or themes, McKiver said, the researchers at the time likely did not see it — or if they did, may have deliberately censored them out.

“I imagine … they’re either written about as a footnote with, like, a hint of disgust in the author’s tone. Or, I want to think that maybe, they might not pick up on some of these nuances and not capture them. Or they might just be uncomfortable and not document it,” they suggested.

Intersections of Indigenous and 2SLGBTQ+ love

Dutcher’s sophomore album, Motewolonuwok, discusses the intersection of the queer experience and the Indigenous experience with his song Ancestors Too Young.

Part of that intersection comes from their respective vulnerability, he said, as Indigenous and queer youth are statistically more likely to die by suicide compared to the wider population.

“The place where two discriminations meet is a dangerous place to live.”

“What I wanted to share by speaking about that intersection … [is] to breathe some life into that and just say that, you know, we’re going to sing the song. We’re going to remember the ones we’ve lost.”

Contemporary cellist Cris Derksen has been challenging traditional norms in the classical music world, including hosting the Banff Centre’s Canadian Indigenous Classical Music Gathering in 2019.

Dutcher says since he was young, he looked up to Derksen’s work.

“She’s was weaving together these worlds that I … thought I had to separate. You know, classical, Indigenous — and then to also be a queer person, too? It was such a beautiful marriage that allowed me to see myself, the possibility of what I could share,” he said.

Derksen’s song Top Shelf, which she describes as a two-spirit love song, is one of her more personal works that she co-wrote with her partner Rebecca Benson.

“This song is about … aiming higher for each other, but also the admiration of, of loving the person so much that you think they’re the best thing ever,” said Derksen, who is half Cree, half Mennonite originally from North Tallcree reserve on Treaty 8 territory in Alberta.

Derksen says the classical world “is always a few decades behind” when it comes to things like queer representation, but sees some like drag queen violinist Thorgy Thor breaking barriers and making a name for themselves along the way.

She hopes her work can help connect Indigenous and queer creators with the rest of the classical music community, over their shared love of the medium.

“I think in the composing world, it’s easy to feel like you’re quite alone. And this is a way to, like, open that relationship and open the doors,” she said.

Local Native American artist, Kacy Colburn stands in a wing of her new art gallery, which displays several indigenous art pieces and will be available to the public after her gallery’s scheduled grand opening, Feb. 23.

The KACO Art Gallery is scheduled to host a grand opening ceremony at its home studio, 20 W. Third St., Suite 12, on Feb. 23 from 5:30 to 8:30 p.m.

Kacey Colburn, a Native-American artist who is currently in residence at Jamestown Community College, is the founder and creator of KACO Art Gallery. The art center is a Native American-themed gallery that will focus on various indigenous art styles, exhibits and host various other non-Native American offerings.

“KayCo, is predominantly a gallery which displays cultural and non-cultural art, made by yours truly and includes small cultural and historic exhibits some that date back as far as 500 A.D.,” Colburn said. “For services, I will host shows, tours, mini-paranormal investigations, sell handmade items, consultations and I plan to host workshops both on and off location which could be anything from making corn husk dolls to exploring odd mediums like lipstick paintings.”

Early on, the gallery will have restricted hours of operation, with the hopes of expanding its hours, services and educational opportunities in the future. The gallery will be open to the public on Mondays and Wednesdays from noon to 4 p.m. and the first Saturday of each month from 4 to 7 p.m.

Additionally, while several of the artworks on display were created by Colburn herself, she intends to use the space to help other artists.

Kacey Colburn, a local artist who is finishing up her residency at Jamestown Community College, has tentatively scheduled an opening day for her new, innovative, art gallery located at 20 West, Third Street, Suite #12, February 23, from 5:30 – 8:30 p.m
Photo by Kacey Colburn

“As I become established, I hope to bring on an individual or two for a sort of mentorship where I help them with their art,” she said. “Regarding cost or fees, I am working diligently to pin down a price that makes the gallery easily accessible to all.”

Staying true to her Native American roots is a priority for Colburn, as is her desire to see more culturally relevant offerings for the local indigenous population.

“Right now, what I can say for absolute certainty is that anything on display that is culturally relevant is free for all indigenous people, as one of my goals is to make our culture as accessible as possible to the indigenous families here that otherwise do not have access to our culture,” she said.

Today’s breaking news and more in your inbox

Good afternoon, Chicago. ✶

In recent years, Chicago museums have been taking steps to reevaluate their collections of Native American art and items, recognizing that they’ve featured problematic depictions of Indigenous people. 

In today’s newsletter, we’re looking at how Native American artists are creating their own spaces to provide visibility for their work and their communities in Chicago, which boasts a population of more than 215,000 Native Americans representing over 140 tribal nations, according to the American Indian Center.

Plus, we’ve got reporting on the continued outage at Lurie Children’s Hospital, some coverage of last weekend’s Chicago Auto Show and much more. 👇

⏱️: A 7-minute read

— Matt Moore, newsletter reporter (@MattKenMoore)

TODAY’S TOP STORY

Native American artists assert artistic, cultural independence via Chicago gallery as museums review outdated collections

Reporting by Erica Thompson

Creating space: Back in September, painter and ledger artist Chris Pappan, his wife Debra Yepa-Pappan, and fellow Native American artists Monica Rickert-Bolter and Andrea Carlson, opened the Center for Native Futures — one of the only Native American-owned contemporary art galleries in Chicago.

Key context: The artists cite limited opportunities for artists and problematic treatment of Native American art and items at Chicago museums as reasons they decided to open the gallery at 56 W. Adams St. in the Marquette Building in the Loop. The space embraces the concept of Indigenous futurism, which they say paints a more complete picture of Native Americans by not only considering their past, but placing them in the present and future.

Rethinking collections: As they gradually build a hub for both local and national Native American artists, Chicago area institutions such as the Field Museum, Mitchell Museum of the American Indian and others are attempting to take corrective actions — returning sacred Native American items and showcasing contemporary Native American works in partnership with Native American communities. Chicago art museums also have faced criticism from artists who want to see more local contemporary Native American art on their walls and relationships with Native American communities that go beyond land acknowledgments on their websites. 

READ MORE

WHAT ELSE IS GOING ON?

• Lurie Children’s outage fallout: The cybersecurity issue at Lurie Children’s Hospital that has spanned more than a week is having ripple effects across the pediatric medical community — from slowdowns in billing to young patients being sent to other hospitals to community physicians who rely on the hospital’s network struggling to communicate with families.
• Tim Mapes sentenced: The longtime chief of staff of former Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan was sentenced to 2.5 years in prison Monday for lying to a grand jury as investigators began to close in on Madigan.
• Bill targets juvenile interrogations: New legislation in Springfield backed by Gov. J.B. Pritzker would require legal counsel for young people under 18 during police interrogations, an expansion of juvenile rights after video obtained by WBEZ showed a suburban Chicago detective extracting a teen’s false confession to a shooting.
• Tentative agreement reached amid strike: Chicago Teachers Union members at Instituto del Progreso Latino in Little Village could end their strike after reaching a tentative agreement with Chicago Public Schools last weekend.
• Hawks’ Bedard to return next week: After missing five weeks due to a broken jaw, Blackhawks center Connor Bedard will return to action next week, coach Luke Richardson said Monday.
• Steve McMichael’s story evokes emotions: On Sunday, “Postseason NFL Countdown” aired a segment on McMichael and his quest for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame while battling ALS. Afterward, Sam Ponder and Randy Moss appeared emotional, and former coach Rex Ryan — whose father, Buddy, coached McMichael — fought back tears.
• 3.5 stars for ‘In the Heights’: In the Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre’s staging, it’s evident from the thrilling opening sequence that director James Vasquez has captured the brimming, crowded heart of this musical, writes Catey Sullivan in a review for the Sun-Times.

SUN-TIMES STAFF SUGGESTS 🐟

Grab a bite at the Fish Keg

My colleague Ashlee Rezin, a visual journalist here, recommends getting a bite to eat at the Fish Keg. 

What makes it special: Family-owned with a super friendly staff, this restaurant has been a Rogers Park staple for more than 70 years, Ashlee tells me. And they make their tartar sauce in-house.

A reliable spot: Ashlee says that, back when she used to work overnight shifts at the Sun-Times, she’d stop by the Fish Keg to pick up an 8 a.m. “dinner.” Her go-to meal after a rough shift? “Fish chips, clam strips and a beer on my couch so I could unwind,” she tells me.

Check the hours: The Fish Keg’s hours have changed a little in the years since Ashlee’s overnight days. Now, you can stop by Tuesday-Sunday, 10 a.m. – 9 p.m.

Pro tip: It’s best to order ahead because they can get busy — especially if you stop by at a normal dinnertime hour, Ashlee says. 

📍The Fish Keg, 2233 W. Howard St.

BRIGHT ONE ✨

Chicago Auto Show ‘childhood dream come true’ for some, window-shopping opportunity for others

Reporting by Violet Miller

Rex Reyes used to play with Hot Wheels and go to car shows with his mom as a kid. In 2020, at age 15, he started a Facebook group for exotic car lovers.

Saturday, the 18-year-old was running a space on the opening day of the Chicago Auto Show as large as the one given to Lexus, with more than a half-dozen million-dollar vehicles filling it up.

The 116th rendition of the auto show brought a growing share of electric vehicles, with Lucid and Tesla making their debuts at the iconic showcase.

“To be in the place I grew up going to … it’s truly my childhood dream come true,” Reyes said Saturday at the Chitown Exotic Car Group space.

Reyes, who works in marketing, said the auto show was a good chance to meet people from the car scene, and noted that he had already run into some car influencers whose work he follows. Aside from that, he relished the seemingly unending stream of people stopping to ogle the vehicles in his corner of the massive show.

“I get to surround myself with these amazing cars I love with amazing people on the sidelines,” he said.

READ MORE

YOUR DAILY QUESTION ☕️

Who makes the best paczki in the Chicago area? Explain.

Email us (please include your first and last name). To see the answers to this question, check our Morning Edition newsletter. Not subscribed to Morning Edition? Sign up here so you won’t miss a thing!

Thanks for reading the Sun-Times Afternoon Edition. 
Got a story you think we missed? Email us here.

Editor: Satchel Price
Newsletter reporter: Matt Moore
Copy editor: Angie Myers