CONTEMPORARY NATIVE ART MAGAZINE #0

CONTEMPORARY NATIVE ART MAGAZINE

KESHi 227 Don Gaspar Santa Fe, NM 505.898.8728 WWW.KESHI.COM

CONTRIBUTORS Max Early Since 1994, Max has continuously been honored as a top prize-winning artist at Santa Fe Indian Market reviving traditional Laguna pottery. He refined his technique to a personal touch, while maintaining traditional Laguna design symbols and compositions. At the same time, he has pursued his higher education degree at the University of New Mexico, resulting in the publication of his first poetry book in June 2013 as well as the unique approach to combine poetry and pottery. Max’s contemporary take on nativity sets resulted in a set based on American Holidays, which also reflects his humorous side.

Sonja Horoshko Sonja Horoshko moved to Cortez Colorado in 1993 bringing with he management experience as the director of Colorado Contemporary Dance, an accomplished visual artist, musician and connoisseur of film / video arts and opera. Since then she has continually created opportunity for people to express themselves in their own voice and with their own brush marks.

Drawing Together, an arts program she founded during her year long residency at Hovenweep National Monument, ’95-96, has enrolled more than 800 students in-situ – making arts on the canyon rim-rock or in the river bottom. The National Endowment for the Arts, awarded her program a 2001 Challenge America Grant. In 2003 she was an invited panelist to the 53rd conference on World Affairs, “Beyond borders”, where she spoke over 7 days on panels connecting arts to journalism, science, politics and social activism. She is most appreciative of her time spent at Bread Loaf School of English Literature, Middlebury College, as an Annenberg Rural Change Fellow. Her academic work in cultural studies led to a sea change in her career and to the current success she enjoys as a regional journalist. The 108th U.S. House of Representatives paid tribute to Sonja recognizing in the Congressional Record that her career models the wide scope and influence of art in all it forms, and commending her as a distinguished artist expanding the reach of artistic endeavor in the Four Corners Region of the United States. We salute her Accomplishments.

Jeremy Singer Jeremy was born on the Navajo Indian Reservation in Tuba City AZ. Jeremy’s family has played an important role in his art making. Navajo textiles, Navajo People and humor are his main influences. He has attended both Northern Arizona University and the University of Arizona. Accomplished in printmaking, painting and drawing one of Jeremy’s favorite subjects is a strong confident Navajo woman conquering the 21 st century. His studio in Tucson Arizona is developing into a piece of art itself as visiting artists leave drawings on the studio wall.

Hoka Skenandore Oklahoma based artist Hoka Skenadore earned his BFA in Studio Art from Santa Fe's IAIA. He is the third generation of a family of American Indian artists to study and graduate from the IAIA. His disarming paintings explore his influence and clear fascination of popular culture: music, street art, graffiti, outsider art, and skateboarder culture. Skenadore's use of vibrant color, form, and bold subject matter including written word and cultural icon narratives successfully lend a smart and fresh collage quality to his paintings. Whether using canvas or vinyl, his pieces are intricately painted using a variety of different media including acrylics and spray paint, creating a complex layered effect.

His works represent a variety of interesting approaches to the curiosities of life.

CNAM Issue #0 Creative Director / Editor Sylvester Hustito Editor-at-Large Katja Lehmann Web Support: Carlton Jamon Writers and Contributors: Max Early, Frank Buffalo Hyde, Sonja Horoshko, Sylvester Hustito, Avanna Lawson, Katja Lehmann, Hoka Skenandore, Jeremy Singer

Contemporary Native Art Magazine is distributed internationally as an online magazine, as well as printed issues for subscribers.

Each full color issue is printed on high quality paper and will be distributed through the subscription service.

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Hi: Contemporary Native Art Magazine (CNAM) is a quarterly art magazine, founded by artist Sylvester Hustito in 2013.

Subscription / Other Inquiry: Please send email to contemporarynativemag@gmail.com

CNAM focuses on contemporary indigenous art, showcasing the voices of distinguished artists, as well as emerging talents to stimulate each other’s creative processes.

The magazine captures the entire spectrum of artistic expressions.

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CNAM strives to capture its audience with trends that correspond with the current Zeitgeist and provocative thoughts to spark lively discussions.

CNAM strives to Empower contemporary native artists to confidently present their works to a broader audience and champion artists to venture out beyond their known venues and markets into the international art scene We love to hear from you.

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CUTTING EDGE JEWELRY

CARLTON JAMON INTERVIEW Descendant from a long line of Zuni silversmiths Carlton, founder of the Zuni Cultural Arts Council, is one of the few Zuni artists who create contemporary pieces that honor traditions, but go way beyond them. It was Carlton’s vision from the very beginning to create pieces known for innovative designs, and he is constantly expanding his repertoire from the silver bears that launched his popularity. His work is internationally recognized and his reach extends as far as the Vatican, where a Chalice ordered by the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament in Philadelphia was used to hold the wine during the canonization of Katharine Drexel by Pope John Paul II. CONTEMPORARY NATIVE ART MAGAZINE: When did you first dabble in contemporary jewelry? Coming from Zuni it must have been difficult because of the strong traditional style?

CARLTON JAMON: I started out doing contemporary jewelry as a business move back in 1989. My whole goal was not to make things that were already being made by the traditional Zuni jewelers. I didn’t think that I would succeed in the business if I did the same thing that everyone was doing. I did if for business’s sake, it was a business decision.

CNAM: Do you have a certain connection with the whole traditional jewelry background?

CJ: Yeah my grandparents did it [were traditional jewelers], my parents too, and all my aunts and uncles. They did inlay and petit point. I thought about it and I just did not want to do it. I refuse to do it even if I get an order. I used to go to these shows and they would feature me on the brochures as a Zuni artist. And I would have these visitors coming by asking me why I’m not making Zuni jewelry and they would be really upset with me.

CNAM: Who do you think led you to think this way back then?

CJ: I didn’t really have anyone I looked up to in the beginning, as far as jewelry or art. I just got tired of selling here locally in Zuni. The first contemporary piece I did was the silver bear design, and that was my version of a bear fetish. And it was my way of doing contemporary but still keeping elements of design from Zuni. It was very streamlined and contemporary. I try and stay away from turquoise as much as I can, and maybe it’s because I want to be different from everyone else.

CNAM: That’s true I rarely see you using turquoise in your work. Were you reading books by Charles Loloma or learning the business side of jewelry through publications as a curious young jeweler?

CJ: No, I just kind of did my own thing, I taught myself how to make jewelry very early on. I didn’t have a clue of what retail business was, until I saw a news program. It was shown on a Sunday night. I remember they featured a story on the Indian Market. I told myself that I got to be there next year so I called SWAIA the next day, and got as much information about the event. As soon as the applications came out I applied and got in and I’ve been going ever since, haven’t missed a year.

CNAM: How was your first experience at Market?

CJ: I was very impressed with all the art that was shown there, especially the contemporary jewelry. I tried to get some tips and advice from the jewelers that I saw there and they did not want to give me the time of day. I was a “nobody” and nobody wanted to talk to me. Maybe they thought I was trying to copy them or steal ideas, so it took a few years before people started to talk to me. There’s a funny story with this Navajo jeweler named James Little. He uses a lot of gold and diamonds in his jewelry.

James and I were a part of an artists exchange group in Haida Gwaii & Queen Charlotte Islands in British Columbia, and we were getting along great!

I told him that I had tried talking to him way early on, when I was just starting out my jewelry career. I told him “You didn’t even give me the time of day, and totally ignored me” and he said, “Well, I remember you and I know who you were, I just couldn’t hear what you were saying because I’m partially deaf!” I told him “I was calling you all kinds of names like stuck up asshole, and I said I was never going to be like that!” And here this whole time he couldn’t even hear what I was saying! I got a lot of that though from people who weren’t deaf.

View of Zuni Village from Zuni Corn Mountain CNAM: Do you think the artists are shy or do you think they are trying to protect their ideas?

CJ: I think you have to prove yourself. It seems like especially if you’re a beginner asking all kinds of questions and also you’re over excited. I think they sense that.

CNAM: The Pueblo V Design Institute- was that your earliest experience with a real contemporary jewelry course?

CJ: Yeah, I had gotten to know Duane Maktima by then, just from bugging him all the time.

I knew Jolene Eustace, Christina Eustace, and Myron Panteah. We had gotten to know each other through the art shows and stuff. Myron was actually one of the first ones to actually talk. He won a bunch of awards at the Eight Northern show…

CNAM: You sure have a lot of jewelers that don’t want to talk to you LOL… CJ: Yeah, I think it was me because I was too excited talking to them and they were caught off guard. I was like a kid in the candy store or something. But we all started getting to know each other and Duane started this group called the Pueblo 5 and I was asked to be a part of it. We were all in and out with the whole planning of it all, trying to get the non-profit and all that. We all finally got together in Santa Fe and started classes.

CNAM: Cool, so did this open the creative floodgates?

CJ: It did. It was just a huge collaboration, even though we had structured classes with different teachers coming in showing us different techniques. I think it was the whole collaboration with all the artists. Everybody put their guard down. We had fun and we just all shared different ideas, and nobody held back really. Everyone that was a part of that group learned from each other. Even though the instructors were there, we all learned amongst each other after we mastered a technique. That was the best part.

CNAM: The jewelry experts that came and taught you- were they mostly non-native?

CJ: They were non-native on purpose, that was the whole idea; that we would get nonnative instructors because we were doing contemporary jewelry. But we were all kind of stuck. We wanted to get with what the outside world was doing. It was a very exciting time and I still use the same techniques to this day.

CNAM: Is there anything like that out there that you see nowadays?

CJ: No, I haven’t heard anything. I kind of started something out in Gallup called Native Hands and it was going great with instructors coming in. But the new director came in and wasn’t too fond of the whole program and kind of got rid of it. I am hoping to start something like that down here in Zuni. It’s just a matter of getting organized. I think most jewelers in Zuni are just in survival mode right now. People are kind of like “I don’t have time to be doing that kind of stuff.” But they don’t realize that it would benefit them greatly.

CNAM: What is your favorite technique in jewelry making so far?

CJ: I think forging and creating texture. I like to use the rolling mill to make texture because you can make texture with anything like lace, tissue, or hair, anything that will make an imprint on a piece of metal.

CNAM: Wow! Hair?

CJ: Yeah hair is pretty cool. Just as long as it’s someone else’s hair! I really like forging, changing a piece of wire or a sheet of silver and creating something out of that with hammers. It’s a real simple technique that you can make things out of.

CNAM: One thing that I remember from hanging out with you in the studio is that you use a lot of exotic stones like agate and opals. Where did you pick up the eye for these stones.

CJ: I just liked these stones; it didn’t matter if it was a cheap rock or an expensive stone they all have character. They are very hard to work with.

It takes a lot of time to get them the right shape, to get them nice and shiny. Even dinosaur bones, I used to use a lot of that for a while.

CNAM: What was the most outrageous thing you’ve made so far?

CJ: Probably this jewelry box I made, which comes apart and becomes various jewelry pieces, like the top becomes a necklace, I have more ideas in mind for that series.

CNAM: Do you think that your ideas are way ahead of other people’s ideas sometimes?

CJ: I really don’t. I just think when I see something new, I should have done that when I had the idea. I know how it was done and it was on my mind way back years ago and I never did it. Then someone else does it and I kick myself in the ass thinking I should have done it. You just have so many ideas and you can’t do them all.

CNAM: What artists are you following these days?

CJ: I haven’t followed anyone in awhile. There’s this one potter from Zuni- Alan Lasiloo. I never met him until last year. I told him that I have been following his work and he was really surprised. Other than that I just haven’t really been following anyone. I think because SWAIA kept certain artists hyped, you just don’t see anyone elses work promoted. It seemed like it was only a select group year after year. They came out with this new category called Innovative Techniques, and that was tailored to those guys, specifically.

CNAM: Have your children gone contemporary with their jewelry or art?

CJ: Alex definitely has. When he’s not working or going to school he’ll create some cool pieces. He had made some rings and an earring box, pretty contemporary stuff. He grew up in the studio. His first piece he said “I’m gonna take some of this wire….and I’m going to do this and make a necklace,” and I was like “OK!” He drew a design, and I told him it’s not going to work, and he didn’t want to listen to me. He made it and I was wrong. From his first project, I didn’t show him much but maybe to file down the sharp corners. But he taught himself how to do everything. He was going to do his own thing anyway and I let him do what he wanted.

CNAM: What do you think has been the highlight of your career?

CJ: I think making those hollow silver bears because it really put me on the map. It became a signature piece with my customers and it was in high demand for a long time. After that line being very successful I could do more creative things, and having extra funds, I didn’t have to work so much. I had been working years and years without taking a break, and now I could. I’ve always been very grateful for that silver bear line.

“What should I wear?” is a common question that crosses all of our minds, but the answer is always different. Jewelry is not a necessity [for everyone] but when people want to make an impression or a statement, accessories can help grab attention.

We all want to look our best and be unique. There are moments when we need to dig in our closets for that special outfit - the item that has been patiently waiting for the spotlight. It is that search and that thought that inspires me to make jewelry. That urge to be noticed for one night and make a statement; live in the moment, adding to the fantasy.

Living in our world, where being practical and utilitarian is not necessary, we are no longer held by those constraints and we are able to become individuals. Making sensible items boarder uselessness only adds to their one-of-a-kind function: being beautiful. -Alexandre X. Jamon

Rainbow Man Fan 2004 photo courtesy of Kennedy Museum of Art

Silver Jewelry Box

DOUG COFFIN INTERVIEW

On a clear, crisp December morning I drove to Abiquiu to interview one of the legendary artists in the southwest, Doug Coffin. He has influenced me as an artist since I was a youngster looking into the Santa Fe galleries. His work stood out to me as exceptional and meaningful, even then. At the time I did not know him as Native American. Even if I did, I could not imagine any influential galleries featuring work by a Native Potawatomi / Creek artist. The important content of his work his charisma and talent found a way into the hearts of galleries and their clientele. Doug Coffin is a product of the contemporary Native art movement that began in the sixties. Since then he continues to reinvent his style and craft.

Although he is influential in the inner Santa Fe art coterie he is one of the most down to earth people I have ever met. I am happy to call him a friend and pleased to present the following interview to readers of our premier issue of Contemporary Native Art Magazine.

CONTEMPORARY NATIVE ART MAGAZINE: You were raised in a semi-traditional background. What did your family think of you pursuing an art career creating contemporary work?

DOUG COFFIN: It’s a lucky thing, my parents told me “Figure out what you want to do with your life that will make you happy.” I was seventeen and I was just out of High School in Lawrence, Kansas. Kansas University had a great art department, so I went and enrolled. I’ve had a lot of art shows around the country and I would meet people who say, “I wanted to be an artist but my parents didn’t let me.”

CNAM: Were they specifically Native American people or people in general attending the art exhibits?

COFFIN: People in general, people who wanted to be artists and didn’t have a chance because they were endured to make money. I tell them “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I could be seventy years old living under a bridge in Topeka, Kansas, and know this is what I want to do no matter what happens!”

CNAM: What do you remember about your days at Haskell Boarding School?

LIVING LEGEND COFFIN: I grew up with my parents on the Haskell Indian Boarding School grounds where my father was a coach there. I was a paperboy at eight years old and the Indian campus was part of my route. I expanded it so I would get to meet the students, and it was amazing how they had such a great sense of humor, no matter what their circumstances were. I’d walk through the campus as a paperboy and passed by all th is art on the walls. I got to meet some of those artists because they used to come through the school with things to sell. I met Jerome Tiger and other artists who were doing this classic Indian style associated with Kansas. There were some real horrible Indian boarding schools that were just nightmares for people, but Haskell Indian Boarding School at that time was probably the most progressive and not as strict.

CNAM: Do you remember the first piece of artwork you ever saw?

COFFIN: The first art piece was this huge sculpture by Allan Houser, it was there in the Auditorium and it was the biggest pi ece he created for many years until he retired from Institute of American Indian Art Since I was a young kid, I would pass this Allan Houser sculpture m ade out of Carrera marble — I think it was titled “Fallen Comrade” — and I would always stand there looking up at this piece wondering what kind person was able to make something like this. I guess I really didn’t associate my thinking with that experience in my life, but when I started g oing to the University of Kansas doing a double major in sculpture, I started making big things and now, thinking back, my sub-conscious was aware of that huge sculpture

by Allan. When I was working at Shidoni Foundry, Allan was still alive then, and I worked for him. He and his son, Bob Haozou s, are two of my most inspiring artists.

CNAM: When was the first time you started using skulls in your work? Was this inspired by O’Keeffe?

COFFIN: I thought that it would be a nice touch — you know representing New Mexico in that way with my new ideas and the ideas of what totems could be. I had been to New Mexico before when I was eight, but when I moved here thirty-five years ago I was working at Shidoni then, casting bronze and there were a lot of artists working there that became pretty well-known around the area and country. I did a contemporary wooden totem that was twenty-five feet tall, very contemporary. I hung a deer skull on it that had about five or six points. If I could make one statement as an artist it was going to be with a monumental totem piece. It was a very contemporary piece. Ann Maytag end ed up buying it, which helped keep Shidoni running. After that experience I started becoming interested in O’Keeffe’s work, but after seven years in art school, I had a lready decided that I was going to be an artist and I’m not going to copy anybody’s work. I studied the old masters like Michelangelo, Henry Moore, different people who were great because they did something that hasn’t been done before, something fresh. I didn’t know how my art was going to turn ou t. I just had to feel what was on the inside of me and being inspired by the totems of the Northwest, things from the plains Indians, like beadwork and things from my people, the Potawatomie. Just blending all this stuff in a contemporary way I got a lot of good recognition because it was a smaller art community in the seventies. When Santa Fe started trying out contemporary art, it was a real struggle for the galleries to make sales beca use everybody wanted the “Cowboys and Indians” and the “Elks screaming at the Moon” kind of thing.

CNAM: What age were you when you went for the first time to see a ceremony at your father’s tribe?

COFFIN: My brother Barry and I would go with our grandparents during the summer time so our parents could get a break from us little monsters. I remember many times sitting in the back of their ‘49 Chevy pickup and driving from Lawrence up to the reservation an hour away. The government had moved the Potawatomi tribe from the Chicago area to the Kansas area — well the ones they could catch. So it is reservation land there. We had eighty acres of non-taxable government land and then right off the other side of the road was another eighty acres, and that was a farm where my grandparents had twenty head of cattle. We lived a half a mile from the agency house where they held the powwows. When we were little kids they didn’t have any ceremony because the government tried to end all that. But as they regrouped I remember my brother and I wou ld sneak out and go to the bonfires and see the drumming and the powwow there, because our grandparents liked to go to bed early.

CNAM: So you weren’t allowed to go to the ceremonies?

COFFIN: They didn’t take us because by the time the powwow really got going they were already sleeping.

CNAM: So were you just sitting around checking it out or were you trying to participate?

DC: I was just there looking and it was amazing seeing them try to get their tribal traditions going again.

CNAM: It was basically from scratch at that point?

COFFIN: Yeah, there were still a lot of elders there, but they weren’t allowed or for some of them it was dormant. Finally, they were getting together and saying, “Let’s see what we remember and try to honor the traditions.” Because they moved them all from home and their tra ditional lands, a lot of things were lost. We had a lot of beautiful beaded outfits that my great grandmothers had made for my grandmother. They were almost a hundred and fifty years old. We recently worked out a deal with our tribe to reacquire them [the beadwork pieces] from us because the y will honor them at the casino [where they will be exhibited].

CNAM: You came to Santa Fe at the right time in the seventies. Looking back in history it seems like everyone was making orig inal, contemporary art at that time.

COFFIN: Yeah, because there was no one to copy. In the early days if you wanted to be a contemporary artist you had to become one because you couldn’t copy anyone. Nobody had done it before. Now there is so much around that people don’t realize they are copying e ach-other, or they’ll see someone making a lot of money with their style and copy their work rather than using their own gifts to make an original stat ement.

CNAM: What were the most important shows at that time?

COFFIN: There were a few that were well attended, like, whenever Allan Houser did a show, especially with his son, Bob, or Dan Namingha, Earl Biss, Doug Hyde, that group of guys. The first graduating class [of IAIA] was amazing because they [the graduating artists] were original. They had to dig deep if they wanted to be a contemporary artist. You had to think about what you wanted to make.

CNAM: Does this prove that contemporary Native American art was a driving force in the developing contemporary art markets?

COFFIN: The dynamics were building, and Lloyd Kiva New saw that. He was trying to do things in the Phoenix area, the Scottsdale area, and I think he saw certain energies building. Somehow he miraculously got a school started, and when you put like -minded students in a room where you start talking about contemporary stuff, well, you can see the results; it kind of exploded that way.

Doug Coffin Chances in Life 36” X 80” Mixed Media on Board

Doug Coffin Buffalo Sun Series 54” X 48” Acrylic on Canvas

DOUG COFFIN

CNAM: You are like a time capsule or you’re holding that time capsule. Were print publications, art magazines contemporary art at that time?

COFFIN: Oh, Man! I was out of graduate school at Cranbrook Academy of Art in Michigan and remember seeing a couple of national art magazines and some ads for Fritz Scholder. And then I saw this PBS show on contemporary Native American artists with R.C. Gor man, Fritz Scholder, Charles Loloma and Allan Houser. I couldn’t believe my mind, and, I think, a lot of people in America’s mind had no idea that anything was happening at all. Two of my brothers went through IAIA before I did. After I went to the University of Kansas and Cranbrook I ended up teaching at IAIA I didn’t go to school at there, but of course I had a lot of association to it. I met Allan and I did a show with Charles Lolom a through Elaine Horowich Gallery. I’d go to a lot of Fritz Scholder’s openings where he’d sign his books. I would wait for the art ists to do shows in the summertime in Taos or Santa Fe because you knew they were putting out something that had never been seen before, and it was a lways fabulous and exciting.

CNAM: What recent shows in Santa Fe have been the most memorable?

COFFIN: The Savage Truth show that was at the IAIA was incredible, it was very fun to be a part of and see people’s reaction. I contributed a lot of wine bottles to an artist so he could make a teepee out of them. I had a piece of a Cigar Indian with a little television inside its head showing a John Wayne video, and I did the new last supper. That was a strong show and attracted a lot of attention. I like Albert Paley. He shows at Gerald Peters.

He is an incredible artist. I’m always excited to see his shows, and I like Tom Joyce’s work, and, of course, Bob Haozous.

CNAM: What was the first piece you ever sold?

COFFIN: The first was a piece of jewelry, which I sold through a hippie shop in downtown Lawrence. I started making some wedd ing rings for people and that was exciting. The first real sculpture was that twenty-five foot tall one at Shidoni. Some people from Michigan saw it and flew me to this big estate out in Detroit and I did a thirty-five foot steel sculpture there. I made a couple of big ones. Another guy owned a big property in Africa flew me out there and I did a big project for him. I’ve been lucky that America became aware of contemporary art so I could b e part of group shows at the Kennedy Center, the Grand Palais in Paris, France, with Armand Lara and Fritz Scholder. It was a good group from Santa Fe in that show. I was involved in twenty-one shows in 1981 alone with one or two pieces in each. There was also a show in Canada where Princess Anne came. I still have that catalog.

CNAM: Even after Kiva Lloyd New put the school together, was it still difficult for people to take contemporary Native American art seriously?

COFFIN: In those days it was so new that there wasn’t very much of an audience or market; yet, a few visionary collectors wer e aware or knew something important was happening. This was in the sixties. There weren’t as many galleries as there are now. Back then it wa s hippies selling their homemade candles and pottery things. America was maturing and getting past the Formica age and wantin g something that had a human touch, but there was no gallery system in the country. To say you were going to be an artist of any kind was tough. New York was the only place, and somewhat LA, and then once things got rolling it started rolling pretty fast. I remember Earl Biss — his paints were still wet and you could be walking to his show at the Jemison Gallery back then and smell the oil paint a half a block away because he had just finished it. I remember this story that has been told by a few people around town that there was a very wealthy woman with this nice, expensive lynx fur coat and she was talking, drinking a glass of wine and had brushed against one of his paintings and the wet paint got all over her expensive c oat.

CNAM: For an artist just starting out and coming from a traditional background, what recommendations would you share with them as they explore contemporary inclinations in their art work?

COFFIN: They should really look inside themselves and ask, “What is my statement. What is important to me?” I used to research Native American artifact books and there weren’t many out there in those days. They were classics and hard to come by and now there’s everyth ing about everything. I would study things from the past, from a hundred years ago and ask myself what kind of thinking went into this. They weren’t thinking of making art in most cases, but they were putting precious energy and precious materials into it and I could feel the power from them even in a photo. If I had a chance to go to a museum and see this stuff, I would study what ‘thought’ was inside the person who created this thing. It’s really about what you want to say — whether it is through painting, crafts or any kind of medium. What’s important to you and what values do you wan t to share? Think about your vision. My son Brian’s work is very original. It’s a vision he’s had very early on and he’s perfected his technique [to share his vision] with tools.

CNAM: A lot of people leave art school saying that they have to go through a process of unlearning everything they were taught because the teachers pushed their style on the students.

COFFIN: I hear that all the time. When I was a teacher I had to set up problems and see how students solve them, but then a g ood teacher’s job is to find out what the students want to learn or what direction they are hinting at, and support what they are after, rather th an saying these are my rules and I’m going to grade you according to what my values. Sometimes there are potential students that ma y be more talented than the teacher.

You try to nurture that.

CNAM: Do you think some artists over-think their projects, relying on more technical skill rather than pure inspiration?

COFFIN: It’s good to have that combo, and then you can make something special with either end of it. The vision, you can express that in whatever form, doesn’t have to be judged technically in that form. Sometimes when things are so technical they aren’t inspiring becaus e the technique is overpowering. If you are inspired by something from your own culture rather than from watching cartoons all your life, you are coming from different places. There is a saying that is true, “If you plant an apple tree seed you can only get an apple tree.” If you look at comics all the time your going to produce that kind of artwork, but sometimes pretty cool stuff can come out of that. Somebody who’s a truly gifted artist c an take any idea and make it worth looking at, contemplating. Those artists are few and far between it seems, but they are there.

CNAM: When abstract expressionism was hot what artists did you read about, or follow?

COFFIN: I was more aware of Jasper Johns, and Rauschenberg more than Rothko, and, of course, people knew Jackson Pollack. Then I reached a certain point in my art education where it was like a new chapter that I had never been aware of before, and so I studied t hem. That was very interesting and still is. Andy Warhol; it is amazing how you can take a mirror and put it in someone’s face and charge them a bunch of money so

“Moon Bones” - view behind Doug Coffin Studio they can look at their own faces and say they are a star. I still can’t fathom how much value is placed on his art. I’m kind of a fan. I have a lot of people who collect my work. I go to their homes and my pieces are next to an Andy Warhol. It seems like he ha d some kind of a weird gift that paid off. Andy collected antique Native American artwork, probably for different reasons. He had a lot of kachinas and a great res pect for it. I read a couple of his statements where he says he really admires and cherishes the things that he had collected for visual stimulation rather than the powers they might have had or represented.

CNAM: Your meditation series is very interesting. Tell me about them.

COFFIN: Well, the background is very energized and the ceremonial sun and moon is meant to separate the turmoil around you like a Mandala. It is a way to focus on a calmer center. A lot of the times I’ll use the red paint and splatter it from the top of the piece dow n and that comes from the pueblo potters who do the deer and bears with the heart line. That’s my interpretation. A part of it is just from living with the different cultures in New Mexico, the pueblo pottery. I’ve used the black and white stripes from the Koshare in a very contemporary way. A lot of t he circles come from different shields from the plains Indians. The shields are used in my very early pieces where I’ve used a buffalo skull. Some thing’s I try to resist, but sometimes I see things as power objects like the totem poles from the northwest. They tell the story of the family and if you were from that culture you can look at one and tell who’s in this house. The medicine bags and things like that are very mysterious with the intent of being power objects. Things like that were never meant to be sold.

CNAM: Where does your calm manner come from?

COFFIN: It has to do with getting older, and lots and lots of things matter less, you know, things that you used to think wer e important. It’s the gift of longevity I think. I’m 66 now. It gives you a different perspective with how you want to spend your time, and time is all you got. I try to use my time wisely during the day and I don’t want to waste my time with people I can’t relate to because everybody’s got problems. I try not to make my problems anybody else’s and I don’t want people to make their problems mine. I try to keep my focus pretty good — start to finish — everyday.

Doug Coffin Moon of the Bobcats 36” X 80” Mixed Media with Bobcat Skull on Board

Doug Coffin Ceremonial Sun Series 1 48” X 48” Acrylic on Canvas

Doug Coffin Shadow Snatcher 48” X 96” Mixed Media and Coyote skull on Canvas

DOUG COFFIN

CNAM: What hardships have you faced in your art career?

COFFIN: Being able to eat and not starve and to deal with not being able to pay bills when you need to pay them; having gas m oney to get to town to sell your art. A lot of people fall by the wayside because they can’t live the kind of life where you are dr iven by your goal to be an artist. To develop your style, your statement and to get from here to there, there are a lot of difficulties. There were times when I ha d enough money to either buy gas to go into town with some art, or eat and worry about gas later. There were a couple of days while I was living in Galisteo, N.M., when I didn’t eat anything that day because I didn’t have any money. But I didn’t worry about it because I knew if I could get a cou ple of pieces to a gallery I could sell something or sell them to a friend. I knew there wasn’t any problem. You just take one step at a time, one sale at a time. Just as long as you believe in yourself; that you can make it, and you are willing to pay the dues. If you’re born rich then you got to pay t he sacrifice, a lot of the times you are born without any motivation.

CNAM: Who was most helpful in getting you where you are today?

COFFIN: It was the support of my parents. My dad passed on early and my mom passed away this last year. It was comforting to know that I had their support. I try to honor them by doing something worthwhile in life. They were good examples, good inspiration, and they gave me good memories that I’d hope everyone would have in their lives.

Doug Coffin, Snake Dance Moon, 18’ Steel

LANDIS BAHE “The Gifts” Acrylic on Canvas Landis Bahe – Born into Navajo tradition at Tuba City, Arizona Landis entered this world on August 2, 1978. His mother is from Hard Rock near Pinon, Arizona and his father from Star Mountain near Teetso, Arizona. The middle child of three children Bahe was cradled in a world of weavers, silversmiths and painters. In infancy Bahe was teased by his grandfathers for his light skin and temporary jaundice condition, and was called Yellow Hair. Today he borrows that nick name for his company name Yellowhair Studio. While Bahe took two art classes at Sinagua High School in Flagstaff, Arizona, he admits to failing them. “I was hard headed and wanted to do only what I wanted to. For instance I liked art history and Greek and Roman art, and unless we were studying what I wanted to, I tuned out”.

http://www.artofthepeople.org/LandisBahe.html

SHELDON HARVEY Andrews Pueblo Pottery 303 Romero NW, Albuquerque, New Mexico 505-243-0414 www.andrewspp.com

CHRIS PAPPAN INTERVIEW

Burning the Midnight oil at Pappans Studio ‘s Each piece of art that Chris Pappan creates emanates prominence in a world where the significance of Fine Art has been obscured. We have been victimized by over stimulation through the internet and television to the point where we cannot recognize a significant piece of art even if it is staring us in the face. Fortunately I was able to encounter Chris Pappan's work at several stages in his career and became familiar with the subtleness throughout his body of work.

He probes our questions with more questions about who we are as a human race, and the struggles we continue to face in a modern world. We discover ourselves in his distortions, each line being a gesture to let people know that he is here with us to record his contemporary view. The subjects come to life in our sub consciousness and reveal itself as a thought long after the image has been burned into our retina like a negative. I had a chance to interview Chris as he was getting ready finishing up a collection for the Heard Museum Indian Market.

Contemporary Native Art Magazine: Major collectors of fine art drawings have scooped up your work, what collection has been the most significant so far for you?

Chris Pappan: The National Museum of the American Indian just acquired 5 of my ledger drawings that definitely blew my mind! I’m also honored to be in the collection of the Spencer Art Museum in Lawrence Kansas, a small museum with a world class collection, because its close to my homelands and people. I always feel grateful and honored whenever anyone likes my work so much that the y want to have a piece in their collection whether its a museum or a first time art collector.

HIGH ART CNAM: What is your process to find the perfect subject for a piece?

PAPPAN: The process is very intuitive. I sometimes feel that the subjects speak to me in a way, letting me know that they want to have a "second life". A lot of times I also look at the pose or gesture, or what the subject is wearing, if I like the look of the fabric, a re they showing a lot of skin (aye). I also search for images that people wouldn't necessarily associate as being Native American, in that it doesn't fit into the collective misconception. After I've selected an image then I'll play around with either distortions or mirroring the image.

CNAM: Is it easier for you to make a painting or a drawing?

PAPPAN: Its definitely easier for me to do drawings. Its quicker, and I can take it with me. In fact the majority of my drawing time is done on the train commuting to my day job. That doesn’t mean that painting is hard for me, I do have some pieces that weren't working out the way I wanted, san put them off to the side. In my painting process I am constantly learning and growing and feel my paintings are getting stron ger, so I can go back to those that I didn't like and rework them to a point where I feel happy with them.

CNAM: Who do you think from your earliest memory was the first person to influence you as an artist?

PAPPAN: It would probably be my mother, I used to see her drawing at the table or making arts and crafts. She used to make our Halloween costumes, I remember she once made me a Yoda costume and I went out trick or treating in it.

CNAM: What are your best memories from going to IAIA, that you can remember.

PAPPAN: That’s the trick right there, is remembering anything from IAIA, it was a lot of socializing going on there. It was good in a way, in that I was able to find camaraderie amongst native people, because I grew up in Flagstaff and a lot of the times the Navajo kids I w ent to school with would say that I am just “Another White Boy”. Going to IAIA brought me back in touch with that, being a Native person. So th at was good, but I was kind of disappointed in the fact that I didn’t get as much Technical Instruction that I thought I would, but there were some important life lessons learned there for sure.

CNAM: So was there a healthy camaraderie between the students?

PAPPAN: Yeah, when you get a bunch of Indians together, there’s going to be some healthy and unhealthy competiti on going on for sure.

CNAM: Do you remember any student that you really thought was at the top of their game?

PAPPAN: That’s a good question, I can’t say that they were at the top of their game. I think I was at the top of my game, h aha. I have been thinking these few days that I miss that free flowing creativity that I had back then.

CNAM: Where do you think that free flowing creativity came from?

PAPPAN: I think it came out of not really knowing what else to do. You know I knew I wanted to be in the arts somehow, to b e an artist. To me there wasn’t any other alternative.

CNAM: When you were at IAIA did you ever venture out to the galleries in Santa Fe? PAPPAN: A little bit, I found it very intimidating. “Uh, what are you doing here, get out of here” kind of thing.

CNAM: You think it’s the mindset of a young native who is new to the whole gallery scene in Santa Fe? PAPPAN: I think it’s the mindset because you are young and idealist and you have this vision of what art should be and it should be free and open to everyone, and you should be free to express yourself and then you go into this gallery situation and it is totally not tha t and these people in the art galleries have this air of “we know what we are doing and you don’t”, which is true in some cases but…

CNAM: Do you think there was some angst amongst the students because of the rejection they faced when they were trying t o present themselves as professional artists to these galleries?

PAPPAN: I think we were at a different end, we were there at the galleries to cause trouble, they were like “Here come those Indians again” CNAM: “The Indian according to Hoyle” Tell me about this piece?

PAPPAN: I pointed that out as one of the quintessential Pappan pieces, because it incorporates all the things that I am tryi ng to get across on a contemporary ledger paper, which sparked my whole interest in doing Ledger Art. Technically it represents my best work by the fact that it incorporated the mirrored image, which I something I enjoy doing. The other layers of political ideas of the Indian Casinos and that sort of thing, there is just so many different layers in that one piece.

CNAM: Did you ever see a Hoyle card with this image on it, or did you make it up?

PAPPAN: I’ve known who Hoyle was, because my parents had a book of Hoyle and it was all the card rules for the card games, a nd later on I heard the term “Well according to Hoyle, blah blah blah” meaning it was the “end all“ definition… So that’s where that came from.

CNAM: Do you participate or anybody from your family in any traditional ceremonies?

PAPPAN: No I don’t, and neither does my family. My dad’s family, they worked for the BIA for their entire life; my grandfat her was an accountant for the B.I.A. and they lived in Washington D.C. for a while and then moved to Albuquerque. This separated them from the traditional native lifestyle. I would go a few times with my grandpa back to Pawhuska and see some dances and stuff there at family reunions but for the most part, they were pretty distant.

Chris Pappan Starring 16 “x 10” Pencil and Graphite on Antique Ledger Paper

Chris Pappan Dreaming of the Deer Clan 20 “x 16” Pencil and Graphite on Antique Ledger Paper

CHRIS PAPPAN CNAM: The theme of disassociation flows in your work, I remember the series of yours “Displaced People” PAPPAN: That stems from doing the ledger drawings. I found some other ledger artists doing ledger drawings on maps. I picke d up a few maps myself and started doing paintings on them, and then I thought wow these are maps of stolen land and this is a small way to reclaim that. Taking a map and painting native’s who were from that area, and that way it would help to reclaim that area th at was taken away.

CNAM: Who pushed you to go to IAIA? PAPPAN: Myself, I was in my senior year and some people who were representatives came and talked to my art class about it. Then I thought “Omg, this is totally perfect for me!” it is exactly what I wanted to do.

CNAM: Do you remember doodling cartoons or comic book characters when you were younger?

PAPPAN: O’ yeah, I was always drawing. Actually now that I think about it, when I was younger, are you familiar with Heavy M etal magazine, or Zap comics?

CNAM: Uh huh.

PAPPAN: I looked at those a lot, my parents had those so I was always looking at them, and it used to trip me out. And then later on I thought I should draw these, and that’s when I started drawing.

CNAM: What do you think is the most difficult part of being an artist today?

PAPPAN: For me personally it’s all about getting the time to get all these things done that I want to do. I’m at a point no w where I am certainly more confident in my drawings, getting more confident in my painting and I feel like if I dedicate more time into developing those skills, I can take it beyond what I imagine it to be. Having a kid, and getting the bills paid, it’s all about finding a balance between those two things. I think that at this point, I am right on the fulcrum point where it’s going to tip either way.

CNAM: Your style is very original and unique, when you started doing this style were you kind of hesitant or was this a very easy thing to do?

PAPPAN: It was pretty easy for me to do, because for the longest time in my early c areer I was kind of not trying to do Indian art, but then I didn’t quite know what I really wanted to do. It was about ten or twelve years ago that I thought I want to do Indian art, but I wa nt to do it this way.

CNAM: When I see your work, I don’t really see it as Indian art I think it’s moved farther than that.

PAPPAN: That’s good because that’s definitely what I want CNAM: I think your work could definitely be shown in a major gallery in NY and it would be more interesting and deeper than most of the artwork they show. Is that something that you would be interested in, becoming an international art star?

PAPPAN: I’m getting there, LOL CNAM: Are you hesitant about that or are you moving forward with confidence?

PAPPAN: I’m confident in it. I’m actually going to be doing an artists residency in Australia at the end of March, it’s going to be me Francis Yellow and Marie Watt CNAM: Are you excited about that?

PAPPAN: Oh yeah!

CNAM: What do you think your “Dream Pappan Project” would be?

PAPPAN: My own solo-show at a gallery, where it would take me two years to draw and paint everything.

CNAM: How do you think your family in Chicago supports you with your work or inspiration?

PAPPAN: They get out of my way when they need to, which is totally awesome. If I have a deadline coming up, they are like “ Ok we will get out of your hair and you do what you need to do.” I try to reciprocate that for Debby when she has an important pro ject coming up. I think it’s important for Ji-Hae to see what I am doing, so hopefully it will inspire her at some point. Ji-Hae likes to draw, and she is actually thinking about wanting to show with me at the Eiteljorg in Indianapolis this year.

CNAM: Where do you think this idea of getting out of the way to let you work is coming from?

PAPPAN: It wasn’t me, I wasn’t like “Get out of here I am trying to work!!” I think it’s my family being in tune with me and knowing what I need to do, and that the best way for them to help me is just to stand back and let me do my thing. When they come back from work and school t hey tell me “Oooh I like that you did with that!” We always have a good critical dialogue of what’s working or not working.

CNAM: What advice would you give to a young up and coming artist who’s hungry to become successful and who is ready at a young age to romp the streets with their work?

Chris Pappan Kanza Osage 16” x 13” Pencil and Graphite on Antique Ledger Paper

Chris Pappan Touch the Clouds…Take 1 13” x 8” Pencil and Graphite on Antique Ledger Paper

Chris Pappan Manifest Destiny 36” x 24” Acrylic on Board

Chris Pappan Gold Silver Health Pleasure 30” x 20” Acrylic on Board

PAPPAN: My advice would be to be persistent and don’t get discouraged even though it may be very discouraging at times. Jus t know that it will get better one day, especially if you work hard at what you do. That was one thing that I totally learned from being at IAIA, because I don’t think I worked hard enough over there, and I feel like if I did I might have been in a different place. I still feel like what I was doing was good, I just don’t think I was working hard enough at it.

CNAM: Do you think it was your own personal thing or do you think it was your environment?

PAPPAN: Kind of both, because I was just too easily swayed to go and party instead of you know…

CNAM: What advice would you give the head of IAIA? PAPPAN: Ensure that the students leave there aware of how the gallery system works and how to get into a gallery, if that’s what you want to do.

Prepare the students for the practical side of being an artist, the business side of it. That was one thing t hat I wish I had learned, although in reality looking back I would have probably said “Art is not business, I’m going to do what I want, fuck that!” But now that I look b ack I wish I had that knowledge of how to price my work and know what galleries look for and how to approach a gallery, and that sort of thing.

CNAM: There is two sides to the coin: a gallery that sells a certain kind of art because it matches the couches and drapes, and a gallery that sells important serious works.

PAPPAN: That’s another thing that I learned later on, working for an art gallery, talking with the gallery directors: it doesn’t really ma tter what is on the canvas as long as somebody likes it and loves it, they are going to buy it. The pieces that we sell at the gal lery I work, demonstrate that this is so true.

CNAM: Who are you following these days in the art world?

PAPPAN: Eric White is an amazing painter and I wish I could paint like him. Natalia Fabia is also amazing. The paintings of A ndrew Morrow drive me crazy. Debra Yepa-Pappan has an amazing sense of design and color. Tony Fitzgerald is a great Chicago artist. Also I keep watch on my contemporary Native American Art peers, and love what is happening today.

CNAM: Did you experiment with Abstraction in your earlier years?

PAPPAN: Little, but I never inhaled.

GREGORY LOMAYESVA

BRYANS GALLERY 121 Kit Carson Road, Taos, New Mexico 87571 1(800) 833-7631 WWW.BRYANSGALLERY.COM

JEREMY SINGER How dreams become reality

Jeremy with self-portrait 2012 Who am I? Paint Slayer. Graphite Connoisseur. Ink Wrestler. Image Whore My Early years...

I was seven years old when we were on our way to my grandmother’s house, in Gray Mountain Arizona. I turned and asked my parents when we would see some “Indians.” I knew we were Navajo, but I wanted to see “Indians.” My family laughed, but I kept asking the same questions. Where do they live? My parents both turned to each other and pointed out to the Colorado plateau. I refused their answer because that is where my Grandmother lived and I was familiar with the area. I snapped back aggravated and replied: “Where are the Indians, you know with the teepees, horses and feathers?” My family laughed even more.

My Family has always played an important role in my art making. Navajo textiles, Navajo People and humor are my main influences.

Since I was in Middle School I have dreamed of becoming an artist. Flipping through magazines at the local Public Library, going to the used bookstore scanning the magazines that featured Santa Fe Indian Market. Idolizing the latest winners, browsing all the art that was printed. Having a list of favorite artists. That was where I wanted to be. Wishing one day I would be there.

Today... Now I am. Accomplished.

My artwork is a reflection of me and of the Navajo People. Currently my favorite motive in my drawings is that of a strong Navajo woman Her Skirt blows through the air like Superman’s cape, showcasing the beauty of the female figure and the beauty of those lines.

THE DREAMER “Flying Navajo Skirt” 2012

“Monsoon III” 2010

“Navajo Girl Texting” 2012

“The Savior of the Native Motif” 2010

“Death of a Native Motif” 2010 I want to leave something for everyone. I want my artwork to be around.

I collect images of my People, save them to my phone or Ipad. They are an inspiration to me. I also take a lot of pictures of Navajo People. We are our own juxtaposition. We are still here in Modern times. I am Making Art. Reverse Osmosis... the process of unlearning...

I fell in love with drawing and returned to the foundation of art. Removed all aspects of color to restart and re-evaluate myself. I slowly began introducing color again. Making art is Black and White, is raw and in your face. There are no distractions. It’s a stripped down image. You have to figure out how to make the picture work. What lines to use. I draw a line, I repeat that line, I echo that line and I loop that line. A Poet creates a poem arranging words in a similar manner. I think about what’s coming next. Drawing in graphite I enjoy the many tools. Graphite sticks, powdered graphite, rubber brushes and the eraser. Ballpoint pen and ink drawings every line and step is thought out. You get one shot to make it work.

This is all I ever wanted to do, to work out of my own studio and create.

When I'm drawing, I think of nothing but the lines and the image. I zone even the biggest crowds out. Pencil, Pen and Paper, I enjoy every line, mark and scrape. Blissful.

My advice…

There is no time to stop and wait around to get inspired. Your best may be sitting right in front of you while you are looking elsewhere.

On my door there is a sign posted, I got the idea from conversations with a friend.

Art: Be Honest Practice Everyday Check Your Ego-Calm Down Know Who You Are Have Fun Don’t be Scared of New Things Dedication Yields Improvement That is what I try to follow Everyday in my Studio.

James and Ernie Taboo Riffs The fine art of tickling one medicine man; rattling another

By Sonja Horoshko In Othello, Shakespeare wrote, “The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.”

Smile for a few hours with Navajo comedians James and Ernie on their YouTube videos and you’ll come away refreshed, yet almost wondering why. The routines are packed with quick-study, contemporary Navajo cultural, political and social issues framed in humor.

While it may be enlightening for non-Navajos, for the Diné the comedy is a rich source communal healing that can either lighten the burden of coping with stress or cross the threshold of forbidden subjects.

“I feel like we are treading new ground,” James Junes says. “For me it’s not, ‘yíí yá, don’t talk about it, be afraid!’ We’ve been taught about our shadows, brainwashed about our pain. Some traditional elders tell us if you talk about it you’ll be bringing up the curse, the grave; but by not talking about it we put the curse on ourselves. Pain is where the comedy comes from.”

Much of their material draws out poison from bad stuff, the results of unhealthy coping – child abuse in the Wal Mart aisles, wife and husband beating, skinwalkers, casinos, missing children, swearing, drinking – the ugly side of reservation life outside the stereotypical stoic NDN. A lot of it is taboo.

Junes believes the cause of cultural pain needs to be addressed which will then open up better communications, better relationships with children, wives and families. “There is a missing link in our history because of the yíí yá taboo. The younger people do not know what our people went through, especially in stories like the Long Walk, or what we are going through today, like the addictions to alcohol and drugs.”

In the article, “Racism against First Nations People and First Nations Humour as a Coping Mechanism,” published in Totem: The University of Western Ontario Journal of Anthropology, author Darren Dokis writes, “With their culture, language, land ownership, and treaty rights continuously under attack for the last 500 years, it is of little wonder that First Nations people as a whole have problems with stress and coping. While some First Nations people have succumbed to the temptations of unh ealthy coping mechanisms such as alcohol and drug use, others use the most powerful weapon in their arsenal – the First Nations sense of humour.”

Out of the fire into the improv Their routines are entirely improvised on stage with material they find in public incidents and personal experience. Opening day of the Fire Rock Casino the Gallup Independent newspaper ran a culturally appropriated headline, explains Junes, “Skinwalker spotted at F ire Rock Casino,” instead of a headline that respected the econom ic achievement, like “Navajos get their first casino.”

PERFORMING ARTS Ernie took it When a topic is hot, it’s hot; filled with energy at the beginning and then it slowly fades away. “Something else comes along and the routine takes on new life. The show evolves. The skinwalker at the Fire Rock Casino is a good example, like Alka Seltzer – strong when it started and then it fizzles out. The bits just change on their own.”

For Junes, the routines on alcohol and abuse are based, in part, on his own pain when he was growing up. He admits it came ou t by accident on stage, and “suddenly we latched onto it. It’s kind of how comedy is born for us – no rehearsal, no script.”

They talk about the cool scars on stage, the deep scars, knowing that some people in the audience will recognize themselves. Junes tells about a man who came up to him after a performance and told him, ‘“I can’t believe I treat my kids that way.’ It is reaching them, but it wasn’t my intent,” says Junes.

Rez specific struggles James and Ernie capitalize on the rez specific struggle they share with native audiences. Playing off each other, one introduces the bit and the other adds tags which reinforce cultural assumptions everyone within earshot is easily making. Their timing is in perfect sync with the dialed-in audience familiar with the taboos; comfortable with the playful humor showered on subjects that are not easily talked about.

“What we’re trying to do is teach and be positive role models, even with the abuse,” he says.

The deeper, more culturally based lessons come when the pain of child abuse is placed in Wal Mart, which represents the colonization of food and clothing, basic human needs. It’s familiar territory, like a family gathering at home. But both the issue and the se tting are now universally understood, of concern today to all people in contemporary society.

In the beginning ten years ago, the duo performed for mostly Navajo audiences – in casinos, at Pow Wows, rodeos, gatherings in reservations and venues in the border towns.

Now James and Ernie are booking outside Native venues throughout the U.S. and Can ada and the comedy still works. A few years ago they performed the bits about child abuse in Wal Mart to a black audience in Mississippi, “they rolled in their seats. They g ot the humor, too.”

The joke’s on us Not all of their comedy is about pain. Some is based on seemingly benign Navajo taboos that are so subsumed in the culture th at they are almost transparent, like, not laughing when someone pollutes the air – passes gas, or not pointing with your fingers – which causes Navajo people to point with upper lips, gesture and gyrate with every other body part to avoid the dreaded finger pointing. I t’s funny if you know the original taboo, even funnier if you are a non -Navajo trying to keep pace with the audienc e.

Today, James and Ernie can draw on positive material that addresses the growing hope for a better life, pride in accomplishme nt and the changing U.S. political landscape.

James: “Things are changing. We adapt to it…who would have ever known ten years ago that there would’ve been a black presiden t in the White House? That day is here, man, ten more years – a Native American president.”

The audience erupts in deafening applause, hoots and hollers.

Ernie: “It’s possible … only thing is he’ll be late for every meeting there is…. Is President Yazzie here? Don’t know where h e is. Spz t’ be here.”

The audience loves it, NDN time, their time.

James: “Yeah…will be about three rez dogs outside the White House, every one of them on three legs hopin’ around out there on the grass.”

Animal abuse – a reflection of Indian abuse.

Ernie: “You know they got twenty rooms in the White House? Yeah … you know us Natives are gonna use eve ry one of ‘em for storage … there’ll be laundry hangin’ over the balconies.”

Reflections on housing and infrastructure conditions on the rez.

The Positive Message The dream is here and it’s possible to be anything we want to be, says Junes. “Like, we ha ve more options. We should do away with the negative and be grateful for all the positive things we have.”

An old man told Junes once that he didn’t know they could leave the reservation. Junes responds to the strong conditioning in the comment, “Let a dog off the leash and he won’t go far. We can and need to think outside the box. We want to be appreciated, respected for our artistic mind and talent. ‘James and Ernie,’ can be anything we want to be, off or on reservation like anyone else and that’s the strongest message we make.”

At the end of their shows they always say, ‘“We are sober, drug free and abuse free husbands, fathers and Native American ent ertainers!’

That’s when we get the loudest applause.”

Against All Odds – The Continuous Reinvention of KATHY WHITMAN ELK-WOMAN INTERVIEW BY KATJA LEHMANN

“White Buffalo” 2012

Conquering the Santa Fe Art world with her stone sculptures and paintings, ever since she arrived from North Dakota in the 80’s, Kathy continues to surprise audiences and judges alike by utilizing and mastering recycled materials for her creations, be it sculptures or jewelry. Yet, despite her success, you will find a very approachable and humble woman drawing her strength and creativity from being deeply rooted spiritually within her culture. Some time before Christmas we met in Phoenix for an evening of good food, deep conversations and lots of laughter…

KATJA LEHMANN: What triggered you in the 80’s to move from North Dakota to Santa Fe? KATHY WHITMAN ELK-WOMAN: Art, it’s the only thing that I wanted to do in my life. That’s the only thing I was good at. I had five kids and I needed to make a living for them. I packed up my kids and we moved down there in winter during Christmas vacation. I had that gut feeling and I just knew it was going to work out with my art! I still have the same approach if something feels right.

LEHMANN: That was very brave!

WHITMAN: It was brave. but you have to think it was in the 80’s, when Native art was selling good. When I was still hot.

LEHMANN: What do you mean, “When you were still hot“? Come on girl!

WHITMAN: When I was younger. I meant the times, when the time was right and art was easy to sell. When art was hot!

LEHMANN: Most of the art that you create is something that has not been copied or seen before. How important is it to follow your own vision?

WHITMAN: It is really important to me because I am self-taught. I was a painter first, but when I started seeing all these stone sculptures at the Native shows, which I did early on, that really triggered me. A sculptor from Canada named Lloyd Piney took the time in the very beginning to show me the ropes. I loved his work and I was so impressed; the lines in his sculptures are very sensual, well to me anyway. He was very kind and taught me which tools I should use, what kind of sandpaper would work best, and where I could go to get stone. He said he’d stop by next time he is passing through to give me a quick lesson to get started, but I just felt like if I waited I would lose my drive. That fire that I felt then and there and I thought I’m just going to start doing it, so by the time he did come I was already doing a bunch of them and he couldn’t believe that.

LEHMANN: What was it like for a woman artist in the 80’s in Santa Fe? WHITMAN: This Santa Fe gallery owner once told me: “You have all these things going against you. You are a woman first, you are Native from North Dakota, and you are a sculptor,” but he liked what I did, so he would buy my art and encouraged me. It was those things that were going against me that turned out to be in my favor in the end. People took notice, the galleries started believing in it and carrying my work and I got out there winning major awards.

LEHMANN: Did your materials dictate the form or did the form dictate the materials?

WHITMAN: When I made stone sculptures, it was the material dictating it. It’s funny because when I do sculptures with cans, I take a can and I may use it full, or I may crush it. I may cut it to do the armature to form a sculpture. It’s a whole different process than stone because stone is subtractive and this is an additive process like ceramics or clay. It is a weird process but I really like that because what I am doing is my own concept and idea. I grew up old school, without a television and a telephone, and when you live way out in the country and don’t have neighbors around to play with, you rely on your own imagination. I think that is where my need to experiment with different materials and forms comes from.

LEHMANN: How did you discover your passion for Up-cycling?

WHITMAN: It was a combination of things that I went through within a year, which included losing my mother and my sister three months apart.

Cancer struck my other sister and then I was diagnosed with it. It became a journey with this mortality looming over my head I thought: “When I get through this I am going to have this breakthrough,” but I didn’t. I did one piece during that timeframe with a pallet knife. I don’t know why, I just wanted to do something with a pallet knife using pure color from the paint tubes. I did these four faces of the four directions in four colors.

LEHMANN: That is a lot to digest in a year. How did you get through it?

WHITMAN: I went through a period of soul searching and then a spiritual advisor told me to consider volunteer work. I thought with everything going on in my life, how could I even think about doing that, but I went and did it. I volunteered at this place called the Free Arts Center and for six months I worked with troubled kids who were abandoned or neglected. They needed somebody to work with the boys who were obligated to attend or go to jail. I could help only so much because these boys would be so full of hate, but at the same time dying for love.

They came into this world and they didn’t get any love and some didn’t even want to go home when they were finished with their program. It was really sad, but I think it made a difference in me. Working with those boys really gave me focus. Something in me decided to turn on that switch, and I was like ‘Yeah!” During this period, I started saving cans even though I didn’t know what I was going to do with them.

LEHMANN: Lately there has been a revival for Up-cycling in the arts. Do you see this as a novelty?

“Clownfish” 2012 “Blowfish” 2012

WHITMAN: I have been using found objects in my work for a long time, however the whole approach has been around forever. I’ve seen ancient artifacts in the Museum of Art in Chicago incorporating recycled materials. In my culture we used every part of the buffalo for our home, our clothing, to beautify our tipi, our moccasins, our blankets and even our tools, because we decorated them. When buffalo weren’t readily available anymore, when they were killed off, then we started using wool blankets, trade cloth, or cotton cloth and beaded on those. It is constantly changing.

LEHMANN: In essence the wearable objects you are creating using hides for clothing or recycled aluminum for your jewelry is to beautify others.

WHITMAN: My whole push behind it is to do something that’s going to make a difference. I want to be the difference. Sylvester (Hustito) once asked me, “Is it a spiritual thing, behind what your purpose is?” I said: “yeah, it is.” It is about the whole idea of taking care of Mother Earth. There is that cycle, there is that balance, to live in harmony. The spiritual belief is: “How do we take care of her, and how do we take care of her things?” Take care of Mother Earth and be thankful. Have gratitude, respect and reverence so that she will feed you and clothe you, help you to breathe clean air, drink good water, and will provide a way for you if you continue to show that respect and live accordingly. I feel like every can I use is one less that I put into the earth as trash.

LEHMANN: How do people react to your creative approach?

WHITMAN: Over the years I’ve seen people become more aware, more receptive, from say three years ago. I remember when I showed my art in the Firegod gallery in Santa Fe, people where like “what?” The next year people were more familiar and more receptive. Last year at the Autry in Los Angeles, one of those younger jewelers came up to me saying: “That’s so cool! You know they always put all those stipulations on us, what we can use, how we can use it, or what we can’t use and then you just blew that off!” Who can say what art is, or who is to say what is better or more valuable?

LEHMANN: What constitutes art or what doesn’t?

WHITMAN: I mean as an artist, I feel like that it is our fault too. We have been living with that concept forever, we just kind of bought into it; to be a painter you can only paint on canvas and use oil paint at the same time. I adhered to these principles once too. I am self-taught and tried to do it this way, but I mean how many ways can you work a stone? I like to work in ways that haven’t been done before and I enjoy it. I like having my work be meaningful. I have to have passion for it and if I am not moved, then its blah.

LEHMANN: In the past there were famous artists that experimented with Up-cycling. Have you noticed Upcycling happening around you today?

WHITMAN: I haven’t seen a whole lot as far as taking recycled materials, in this day and age, like I am doing with the cans. I know there is an artist from the Northwest Coast, Brian Jungen, who does something similar. I saw his show up at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City. It is a newer type of thinking; I mean it’s newer as far as utilizing found objects to create sculptures.

LEHMANN: With every new material that you work on you are reinventing yourself; paintings and stone sculptures in the 80’s and now here you are using recycled materials for jewelry and sculptures – what is next?

WHITMAN: I don’t know since I am not there yet. It hasn’t run its course yet. I am in the middle of it. What is so exciting about what I am doing at the moment is that nobody else is doing what I am doing. That to me is phenomenal. Whenever I was at a show, I always had to compete with other sculptors, jewelers or painters. Not that I don’t compete with them now, but it’s just like I am in my own category.

LEHMANN: Has there been a new category established for Recycled Art? WHITMAN: I am still in the sculpture category, but I think that it is even greater to win an award in an established category. People would come up to me and say: “What did you win the ribbon in?” When I say “sculpture,” they were like “really?”

LEHMANN: How can we inspire young artists to turn their dreams into reality?

“Blessings of Motherhood” 2012 WHITMAN: We can inspire young artists to turn their dreams into reality by encouraging them to be brave and have no fear -- to trust their hearts and create what they feel. I would say to believe in yourself and what you love, no matter what. You are all divine and pure from the Creator. Your dreams are unique to you. There is no other person just like you.

What you create is important to the world, or you wouldn't have the idea. If you want to "step out of the box," then do it. There are no limitations. You can do whatever you set your mind to do. Know that there are infinite possibilities. There is a saying: "The bumblebee is not built to fly aerodynamically, “Blessings Motherhood” but don't tell the bumblebee that." You are capable of anything and everything. If you don't achieve something, it's because youof didn't believe you2012 could do it. Now, keep your mind in a positive space, pray, be thankful and full of love, and go for it! Follow your dreams. You are the future.

LEHMANN: What is your hope for the future of Native arts?

WHITMAN: My hope for the future of Native arts is that the perception be broadened. I would like to see the audience be more receptive to this idea, or rather, I would like to see "the powers that be" be more receptive to Native artists; a broader way of creating art and move into the now. It's annoying to me, when the promoters of art, whether it be galleries or art shows, define art by "traditional" because what was traditional 100 years ago was not traditional 200 years ago and so on. What is so-called "traditional?” Currently, there is a mindset that art has to look or be a certain way. This concept is extremely limiting to everyone involved.

I want non-natives and Natives to get the concept that we are ALWAYS evolving and our work is always "traditional” because we are Natives and what we create comes from our genetic memory. Our spirits are always connected to our ancestors, whether we realize it or not, or whether we choose to acknowledge it or ignore it, it's still in our make-up. What we create stems from that. It matters not if it is realism or abstract forms.

As Native artists, what we create, whether it be realism or pure abstract or a combination -- there may not be a word for our creations -- we are STILL creating OUR perspective, just as it has always been. We should be allowed to evolve and be who we are through our art and not be dictated to by nonnatives as to what Native art should be and what's acceptable. For instance, the spiral, which is a widely used symbol throughout the world, is about life and evolving. It's about growth and yet at the same time, there is a constant circle, which is about the cycle of life. My point is the world changes and grows and yet the roots remain the same. We would not dictate to a giant Sequoia tree and tell it how to grow and where to put it's branches and how tall it can grow..

Kathy Whitman Elk-Woman’s work can be found at the Wrights Gallery Albuquerque, NM

PUEBLO POETRY Max Early "Defenseless to Wintertime Darkness" Ears of Corn: Listen is forthcoming in late Spring/early Summer 2013 From 3: A Taos Press.

Defenseless to Wintertime Darkness - Andrea

By Max Early Down snowdrift icy road, she knocked on faded turquoise door.

You need to repaint your door and windows bright blue, Grandson.

It wards off evil, brings you good luck, a color witches tend to shun.

Grandma Mary, nobody believes that anymore, way too old school.

Oh, Manual, please draw your curtains at night, so witches peeking can't harm you. Guard against the evil eye, hang ojos on your wall.

Freezing chill of winter night, when insidious witches masquerade, traveling as luminous spheres, they move erratic on gleaming snow.

Some ride tides of blizzards in dark solitudes of haunted whirlwinds.

Midnight meeting of village witches, set to magnetize a black stone, summoning surrounding lightning bolts and strong magnetic fields.

Polarize the loadstone, polarize the lodestone, polarize the lodestone.

Loadstone knew two hearts of a witch could be controlled by greed.

Enhancing her strength, enriching her knowledge, easing her switch into any enchanted shape she desired, invincible, he would draw her.

Witch, never neglect nor misplace me or you will pine away and die.

In clay bowl of water, feed me needles and steel specks, my potency.

Should someone steal me, menace with madness and wither to bone.

Youngest witch was given black stone magnet to aid her debauchery.

She lurked in shadows, unbeknownst at dawn, back to her adobe home.

On kitchen table she sat the stone in water, feeding it iron fragments.

Nibble while I rest, till icicles harden, rousing my nocturnal mayhem.

Slush melting, she slept and didn't hear Manual's knock on the door.

He stepped into her abode, saw the clay bowl, then snatched the stone.

In winter’s obsidian blue dusk, she woke up wailing like the winds.

Ominous doom ran down her spine, deranging her mind with venom.

She surveyed who’d stolen her talisman, gazing into water of clay bowl.

I'll steal your heart, Manual, as my sanity drifts and my skin shrivels.

You have no safeguards against us, so easy your dwelling is to enter.

Peering through your window, I'll shoot cactus needles in your body.

As wintry darkness closed in, he could care less to draw his curtains.

Soon, he heard fast footsteps on the roof, hard scratching at the door.

Prowling witch fogged the windows, slipped her silhouette inside.

Manual saw a shadow beside him move and disappear as he turned.

Just as the lights flickered out, masked breathing fills his bedroom.

Suffocating with senseless malice, savage sounds mirrored his fear.

“Northshore Navajo” 2009

TALKING TRASH WITH JOHN JOE

By Katja Lehmann John Joe is an interdisciplinary artist whose work explores identity, culture, memory, language, space and environment. By pulling together these threads of life and thought, they define a central focus. His work is evocative and emotive, reflecting and responding to the world around us and sometimes offers ironic humor or sardonic sneer. Utilizing primarily recycled materials, John Joe’s portfolio ranges from mixed media pieces, 2D wooden carvings and 3D wood objects, all the way to photographs.

KATJA LEHMANN: What inspired you to use unconventional materials for your artwork?

JOHN JOE: Some of the traditional art forms developed from what was present around people. I have always had the idea of using a variety of materials to incorporate into my work. Ultimately, when you make things, you start to brainstorm, explore and come up with the idea of trying to use materials from your own environment, incorporate it, use it for a bit and then re-try again and again until you have something you ultimately feel works, which is very powerful to a certain degree. For me it is pretty exciting exploring this process and developing upon it.

UPCYCLING ARTS Seven years ago, I started working for a company in Chicago that specializes in fine art packing and transport, and was exposed to ethnographic collections, sometimes at the Field Museum or the art collections at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago and the Art Institute, art galleries, and bigger private collections. I started to work with a lot of the materials used within this business that were discarded after crate fabrication and construction and never really approached in a more sustainable way. At the same time building and fabricating a customized product for clients generated a ton of waste as well. When I build something it is always the aesthetically pleasing aspect of a material that I was trying to present, as the concept of “what is beautiful” is something that we as people seek and it is present everywhere in our society. How we perceive or interpret the world is pretty important. When working with wood I provided something acceptable to clients, other parts of the material that would‘ve been wasted, that was what I focused on. I started questioning how I could utilize these materials in my creative practice instead of the materials at work…

I take photos all the time, at work or when I went home and saw things along the way, I would stop and take a picture of a house or people; anything that I thought was interesting. Some of the things right down the street; I would take that picture of trash or graffiti and then put it into the usual context, which at times felt like a visual diary. By documenting everything and playing with camera lenses, figuring out how to capture my work, it became a constant and about documenting my life really. It acts as a sketch pad or visual thought process because I didn’t have the time to draw, paint and fit all the other things I was doing in my life in a single day, but the next thing that was just as immediate was capturing everything through photographs.

LEHMANN: Do the people that look at your art appreciate your pieces from an aesthetic point of view only or are they also interested in what materials your art is made of?

“WTF” 2009

JOE: I think generally people will approach it from an aesthetic point, which is probably the most common. When I did a presentation at the Georgia O’Keefe Museum in Santa Fe, it was my first exchange about exploring identity, culture, and environment through material and how this has developed into my process of creating art. Working with materials that are discarded, were thrown away or laying on the sidewalks to sustain them or letting them become the canvas of your artwork is interesting. There is something about how some of this material identifies our society, philosophies, class, gender, embedded in its production, use and waste. I also think that material is just as important as the context or the idea.

LEHMANN: Looking at all the materials you use, what creates the biggest technical challenge for you? The woodcarvings or the mixed media pieces?

JOE: Finding the material for my wood pieces and collaging pieces was time consuming whereas designing a coffee table with over 50 laminated pieces was pretty taxing. Composing and arranging the materials for the woven paper pieces was probably more intimate and technical in layering the material, but I think this process of arranging materials to create some kind of image as an end result can be technically challenging. I made some pieces by mistake, using certain materials and processes, but they turned out to be pretty amazing and I accepted them as part of a productive mistake, which at times opens your eyes to another avenue.

“148” 2009

“North Gawd” 2010

LEHMANN: What is your creative process? Exploring the options that present themselves to you or do you methodically pre-plan these pieces?

JOE: I have created artwork that has a foundation, design or thought process behind, it but there can be a variety of levels and approaches to my creative process depending on what I am working on. A lot of the drawings and other artwork that I create are intuitive and go through a process of revision. I sometimes equate it to jazz. You know the melody that’s playing in your head and improvise. Paintings like the “Roller Derby Yei” evolved by taking an idea and letting it live and change on canvas while you are in the moment. There is a thought behind the process of the image and revisions happen as you develop it through composition, color, form, etc. The furniture design is about looking at form, function and design and exploring material in its potential and a creative context. The fabrication process of the woven mixed media pieces is pre-planned, in how you assemble the piece, figuring out how the material reacts and playing with math, numbers and angles.

CLIFF FRAGUA "My connection with the stone involves spirituality and reverence for the spirit that dwells within. It has been on this earth much longer than man and for this reason the stone becomes the teacher, it is simply what my ancestors believe.

I am the mediator between the stone and the tools; the stone and the viewer.

I visualize what the stone wants to become and I strive to help it blossom.�

www.singingstonestudio.com

505.252.8870

SPOTLIGHT

SKNDNS- Native Americans on film A survey of the cinematic portrayal of Indigenous people in North America through the past centuries showcasing the grainy obscure footage of the 1800's, to be found at the Library of Congress, the "Shoot ‘em up" Savage in Western Movies, the "New Age" romanticized Noble Indian in harmony with nature and in tune with the universe, the Native American Film Renaissance of the 90’s and the Twilight's Wolf Pack. At no other time in history have Indigenous people in North America been so in control of telling their own stories, representing their own image in popular media than right now. At the same time as recently seen in the media, we are still being misrepresented as well. These pieces document the metamorphosis of the "Indian" as Icon and have found a permanent home at the collection of the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington DC. Frank Buffalo Hyde

Ed Singer: Sitting with His Past A look back at the fledgling contemporary Native arts scene

By Sonja Horoshko Ed Singer has been painting since childhood, beginning his first masterworks on pieces of drywall and plywood from his father’s construction trade when he was just a tiny tot. He moved his drawing materials outdoors when the scraps of building materials grew too small.

Outside surrounded by canyons and mesas he made larger images in chalk on the sandstone rocks near his home on Gray Mountain, Ariz., in the Navajo Nation. From that humble beginning his desire to draw and paint, never waned leading him to the pinnacle of his career in the late 70’s as an Art Star in the first generation of contemporary Native artists at the age of twenty-two. Demand for his work reached stunning levels throughout the southwest and in national and international venues. His sold out exhibits, mostly large canvases and print editions, left col lectors eager to buy more.

According to Kenneth Phillips, founder and curator of the K. Phillips galleries, Denver, 1978 - 1982, “We sold every Ed Singer piece we could get our hands on. He was never the most prolific painter, preferring instead to live a more traditional cowboy life on the Navajo reservation.

Without a doubt we could have sold much more than he produced. The communicative value of his work, creatively depicting the contemporary life of the Navajo juxtaposed against traditional Navajo living and working conditions, combined wi th his skill as an illustrator to create powerful imagery.”

Thirty years later he still disappears from the market, not promising anything, painting when and where it pleases him. But a desire to help his home community took precedent, even over painting recently when, in 2008, he was elected president of Cameron Chapter near his home on the reservation for a four-year term. He hoped to develop a wind farm and generate direct economic recovery in his community. The wind farm did not happen and the effects of that disappointment, coupled with the stress of the presidency have affected Singer’s health and interrupted his painting momentum.

Surgeries during the past three years have corrected most of his physical health issues, but the emotional strain has rendered him more melancholy, angered and embittered by the loss, once again, of opportunity, the self -esteem of the people and himself. Two surgical procedures correcting Singer’s vision performed in late 2011 reinvigorated his desire to make pastels of t he landscapes that suddenly came into focus. He could see again, he says, with a clarity that had all but disappeared completely. “It was clear. Everything sparkled with light.”

The portfolio of work he has produced since then has been small in scale, but jewel-tone, containing the deep place-based respect of the land he feels for his home near Gray Mountain and his drive across the reservation to southwest Colorado, where he spends much of his time now.

Even though the small pastels are masterful renderings on a technical par with his best work, they differ from his large canvases marking his style and place in art history. They are the work of an elder artist seeing with fresh appreciation the subject he has loved for mo re than sixty years, as if the landforms, a solitary mountain, canyon or hill, has replaced the human figure in the compositions. In an article by critic Penn y Cox, written in the late 1970’s, Singer was quoted saying, “I find the negative space that holds the figure becomes more interest ing than the figure itself,” and, commenting on his continual use of only one figure, he adds, “I want the relationship to be between the piece and the viewer solely. I am seeking the abrupt confrontation, rather than the sentimental or emotional.”

Unlike the reflections on his work then as a young man with his career before him, the new work reflects the possibility that the pa ssionate approach he is taking to the smaller work is good for his eyes and good for his soul, maybe even an emotional confrontati on between him and the land. As inspirational, manageable subject matter it sets him free to explore while he regains strength and the distance he needs from his recent struggles to return to the steady work of painting where he is most content.

SONJA HOROSHKO: Your family is well-known in southwest art circles today for the dynamic presence of another generation of artists. Four of them are prolific painters currently engaged in arduous exhibition schedules. They include Monty, your son, and Jeremy, Jerr el and Ryan Singer,

your nephews. They are top shelf pros with reputations for producing some of the finest, most technically advanced and challe nging visual art in the regional market. To what in your gene pool do you contribute the continuing talent?

ED SINGER: All of the typical reasons apply, like, my mother, Isabelle, who is still weaving at age 94; and Gray Mountain, ou r family home, is an influence. It is a large family; some of the nieces and nephews I hardly know. They tease each other about bei ng all money-driven. I hope their interest in the arts is more than that. They do have the power of observation and that is genetic as well as family based – they can all watch each other work. At the other extreme, being Indian, allows us look at what it says about being a white, male artist with a trust fund. I have always questioned the value of making big, plastic dogs or breaking dishes and pasting them into a canvas as art. Instead we can be informed by painters like Basquiat. He’s the greatest of our era because of his content and his skill.

HOROSHKO: The generation following you are distinguishing themselves with their success, as you did when you were a young art ist. Would you say your family is becoming a dynasty of artists?

SINGER: Dynasty is appropriate. Some of the skills and talent, like my son’s, are so advanced and awe-inspiring that you could only call it a dynasty.

They are producing very powerful work. I still exhibit work that has content as well as mastery and exhibit some with them. In the end, mastery is all you have over the others. It can be the trump card. In your dialogue with a painting it helps to bring a large life experienc e and go beyond the stereotypical work that a cultural group thinks it should be bound to. I think that is what we as a family and as individuals do.

HOROSHKO: What advice would you give your son Monty?

SINGER: You can learn more from your mistakes than uneventful, safe painting sessions. My son is primarily self -taught, the same as I. Today, art history, art appreciation does not happen anymore. With my son I only provided material and music in the studio. He took it from there to where he is today – a kid, who by five had done an intaglio edition collaborating with a Tamarind trained master printer. He i s a child who has always held court at gatherings, openings and parties. Many people remember being given a private showing of drawings he made of nude Wonder Wo man. He has done a fine job of becoming a master pastel painter. He is happiest when he is painting. I would describe my son as a beautiful child, very talented and I know he will continue to grow as an artist.

HOROSHKO: In the early years of your career a small group of young artists opened the contemporary Native art genre. Until th en, most Native artists carried on a traditional narrative, a stereotype sometimes referred to by Fritz Scholder as “Bambi Art”. You and a ha ndful of others burst onto the scene in the 70s just after the presence of contemporary Native artists began to kindle in the ma rket. How sudden was the Art Star status for you?

SINGER: With their exhibit at the Smithsonian, probably in late sixties, or early seventies, Scholder and T.C. Cannon opened the doors for artists mostly from the Institute of American Indian Arts community, in Santa Fe – the faculty and the students and people around the institute. It was national attention. Scholder was a little older, but T.C. was closer to my age. There were so many contemporary Native artist s they were falling out of the sky in those days. At this time I was in school and already selling lots of my work, exhibiting and winning awards. I was aware of them , but unlike my fellow students who didn’t give a shit about what’s happening, I was willing to make a trip to galleries and museum s where I could see their work. They influence me only so much as they are Indians, too, and contemporary painters. I learned very early in high school and college that I could sell a strong painting. Once, when I was leaving the San Francisco Art Institute to return home in ‘72, I managed to sell about five of the paintings I was packing and unpacking in the parking lot.

HOROSHO: With whom did you show? Are any of them deceased?

SINGER: I got into the mainstream art exhibitions on the backs of marginalized groups, like blacks, Mexicans, gay, political, and, of course, Indians.

I gained insight into the substantial content of my work by exhibiting with these groups. The Ken Phillips gallery in Denver showed my paintings.

They also carried Kevin Redstar and Earl Biss, and almost all the young contemporary Native artists at that time. It was a successful gallery.

Author’s note: Singer picks up his resume / portfolio. It is a thick black binder of papers, articles, exhibition flyers, lis t of museum and gallery exhibitions, and pages of 4 X 6 color prints of his work, some of them Polaroids. It covers the early years and abruptly ends in the early 80’s. The pages are yellowed, tattered on the edges, photos spotted with deterioration. Singer quietly folds the wrinkled plastic pages back, looking at each image, adjusting his glasses, reading to himself and finally begins to read out loud from an article titled, “Young Indians F lee ‘Bambi Art’ image,” by Keith Raether, published in the Albuquerque Tribune, November 1978. The article is accompanied by a photo of Jaune Quick-To-See Smith, Emmi Whitehorse, Ed Singer and Paul Willeto, all members of the grassroots arts group, Gray Canyon Artists.

SINGER: (reading) “…’What’s wrong in Indian art now is the exploitation and romanticism of the Indian,’ says Navajo sculptor Paul Willeto. ‘We’ve got to stamp it out. Only then can we start something new and look to the future.’ They are seven Indian artists, four of who m are gathered in a semi-circle in Jaune’s studio. Paul, Jaune, Emmi, Ed, Larry Emerson, Lois Sonkiss and Felice Giaccardo … formed in 1977 to preserve ‘our identity as modern Indian artists and maintain control over our art.’…Ed’s opinions differ from Paul, but he sees the same stereotypes. ‘People lump us all together unconsciously,’ he says. ‘In my work, I try to show how the Indian is misrepresented, how he has absorbed the dominant cultur e and how it is absorbing him.’” actually joined out of a selfish need for a variety of opinions. We showed in Bethesda, Berkeley and Santa Fe. This group was above the drug use in the arts because they were more idealistic. Oh, and I was really influenced by the work of Lisa Lovenhe im, Marty Hoeffel, Bob Arnold, Ann Kramer, Larry and Gloria Emerson, June Toleda and Felice Lucero. The only one still working from that era that I know of is Doug Coffin out at Abiquiu, N.M. I do not hang out with other artists so I have no knowledge of how anyone works or if they are still aro und.

HOROSHKO: Can you describe the narcotics substance use in some of the groups that you associated with?

SINGER: It permeated much of the art market. Some of artists were great painters, just incredible.…They sold a lot, but it all went up their noses and they drank quite a bit, too, didn’t care as long as the money was rolling in. It was, still is, common knowledge if you were in a certain circle which I joined once in a while when we’d go shooting guns together with Biss and Gonzo. I’d be gone from the gallery scene an d when I’d come around again, they’d say, so and so is gone – in prison or dead, mostly the doctors and lawyers. Well, they are dishonest. That’s why they are taken out. Everybody thinks musicians and artists are the users, but there wasn’t quite as much drug use among them. At least they had honest work, something to do.

HOROSHKO: How did you meet the demand for your work in those days?

SINGER: I had to get away from the drugs and other influences. Gray Mountain is a great place to do that. I rode and worked h orses and cattle and that’s honest work. I painted some there but it wasn’t on a consistent schedule. I had to do the cleanliness of riding out in the morning. That’s what saved me.

Ed Singer Biba Sezi I Stand Waiting 50” X 39” Oil on Canvas

Ed Singer I Sit Waiting Hannah 48” X 48” Oil on Canvas

HOROSHKO: Your son, Monty, describes your studio as “dingy.” Is he right?

SINGER: Correct. Painting and drawing can be a dirty business. My studio at Gray Mountain is like 60% of residences on the Na vajo rez. It has neither electricity nor running water. It does have a stand-alone wind and solar unit, but you need to be aware of when and where the power curve is.

Skylights provide the majority of light during the day.

HOROSHKO: How is your life different now that you are an elder, master painter?

SINGER: The work only gets harder the longer you do it. Mostly I just won’t compromise for less quality.

HOROSHKO: What is your favorite tool?

SINGER: A #6 bristle liner brush. I stand before the new canvas and “dance” a new image into it in Prussian Blue and Burnt Si enna. It is responsive.

I twirl my hand and see it make circles. I vary the weight of a line by pressing in and out while drawing. I use it in making under paintings.

HOROSHKO: The content in your work is subtly political, rendered in composition as well as the depth of field and place. Phil lips recently said, “The communicative value of Ed Singer’s work, creatively depicting the contemporary life of the Navajo juxtaposed against traditional N avajo living and working conditions, combines with his skill as an illustrator to create powerful imagery. Rather than simply creat ing decorative art, Singer’s work was charged with emotionally challenging content, which has resulted in art with long-lasting value – each piece is as important today as when it was created.”

“Young Indians Flee ‘Bambi Art’ image,” article Gray Canyon Artists, by Keith Raether, Published in the Albuquerque Tribune, November 1978. Credit S. Horoshko 2013

SINGER: The approach I have used has worked for me so I continue my political content. The oeuvre has grown more complex. I see them [the pieces] as overlapping circles, now.

Author’s note: More than two hours have passed. Singer, still seated for the interview, is quietly reading another article in the resume / portfolio. It was written by Budge Ruffner, June 1981, for Southwest Art, “Satisfaction without Surrender.” Singer shares it with the interviewer.

HOROSHKO: In this article Ruffner quotes you explaining a little more about your political statement. You say, “Most people r egard the Indian as a cultural antique. When I do an Indian with some common article, it shows what they keep from their own heritage and what they adapt to; it is selective. This is what I do in my life, take what is desirable and useful and reject what does not appeal to me.” Any comment on that time and place, your quote?

SINGER: Ruffner was a good arts critic. Most of them were in those days.

ED SINGER Rare photo of Monty Singer Watching his father, Ed Singer, at work on a large painting, late 70’s.

Found unidentified photo in Singer’s resume/portfolio.

Photo of snapshot: S. Horoshko 2013

Monty with Model Jennifer at Mony’s Studio

MONTY SINGER Living in a historic home in Isleta tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Albuquerque and Santa Fe, Monty keeps in touch with the outside world posting witty and provocative remarks on Facebook and Twitter while at the same time pursuing his calling as an artist which leads to the creation of truly remarkable paintings depicting human portraits and landscapes. Monty tends to be misunderstood until you get to know him better and discover that he is a teddy bear with a big heart, which he demonstrated recently by fundraising money on Facebook, raffling off one of his signature paintings to enable a mother and her daughter to attend the funeral of her son.

CONTEMPORARY NATIVE ART MAGAZINE: You’re mainly self-taught, what would you teach to get first time students familiar with portraiture?

Monty Singer: I think the most important thing I would teach would derive from what I know. Breaking objects down into line, form, geometry, measurements. I think this goes back to what the classical ateliers do and provides a good starting point. If you are a true rookie I would say: do lots and lots of drawings, value studies and stuff like that.

CNAM: When is the color added?

SINGER: That’s the last part, the part where you’re painting, that is the best part. When I have reached the point where I have captured the gesture, the mood, all those things are locked in the form, the last addition is the color. It is exciting putting colors there that you don’t see, but that works harmoniously with what I am doing, that is what makes it pop and gives me a high when I’m working with color.

CNAM: At what age did you start drawing figuratively?

SINGER: Long before I can remember, because I remember my mom saying that when I was three or four, there were all these drawings of mine and she took them to UNM while she was taking a psychology course. They were very graphic like one showing a man urinating and I would draw all the female parts in and the male parts. I didn’t have any boundaries and it wasn’t shameful to me, it was just like, this is what I am doing and I was comfortable with it.

When I used to draw Wonder Woman, I would fill in the crotch with pubic hair and stuff like that. I don’t know where that came from I think it was just from watching my dad paint. I might have been copying him or mimicking what I saw him doing.

CNAM: Are you trying to push the limits, especially being native?

SINGER: At that age I had no clue what being Native was. I don’t think I really had any idea that I was native until geez, maybe second or third grade when I started getting this distinct feeling that I was different. It definitely started during elementary school because I didn’t speak much English. English wasn’t my first language, Navajo was. I had to unlearn all that Navajo, and speak proper English.

CNAM: You don’t have a Navajo accent. What happened to it? INGER: No I don’t. Wherever I go, I easily pick up the accent wherever I’m at. When I was in the Marine Corp we went to Australia, and after the second day I was speaking like a local. I went out and met a couple of my buddies at the casino and I had this heavy Australian accent and they were all pissed off at me because I was talking like “What Mate, I don’t know what your talking about”.

CNAM: Do you think you’re easily adaptable?

SINGER: I think so, because I have been living with my wife’s family in the Midwest and I picked up their mannerisms and speech patterns being around them. You put me on the rez with a bunch of johned-out Navajo’s and I’m going to start talking like a johned-out Navajo within an hour.

CNAM: Did you decide to become an artist because your father was a big art figure in your early life or because it was your calling?

SINGER: I think it is a bit of both things. I is definitely influenced by the environment that I grew up in with the experiences I had growing up. These experiences were completely alien and unique, there is only one other person which I know personally, who had almost a near identical experience like I did. In other words her parents were well known native artists and she was involved in the whole native art world. I think that has shaped me but I also think it might be genetic as well because there is something there when I look around my family. They all can draw, they are very crafty with their hands. My uncle Marvin from what I hear is an amazing stonemason and also when you take a look at all the Trading Posts out in Camden Arizona or Tuba City, my Grandfather designed and built all those and as far as I know he didn’t have a high school education. My Grandmother on my dad’s side is a very good weaver, she weaves Navajo rugs. The talent originates from both sides. My work is more influenced from European aesthetic than Native aesthetic which is my Dad’s influence, but at the same time you can detect the influence by R.C. Gorman’s and Fritz Scholder‘s work as well. I just think my Dad did it better but he doesn’t get as much recognition.

CNAM: You’re attracted to nature and the female form...

SINGER: Yeah, the female form has captured my attention since I was a child. I don’t know how to explain it... I’m dumbfounded when I see women.

Visually it is the most arresting thing to me. People can have the same reaction looking at the sunrise or sunset. It is this thing that exists in nature, when I see a line like where the hip juts out from the small back. I don’t know why it moves me so much. I love shadows, I love light, I love contrast, and I love the combination of those things come together and merge. Painting rocks is the same thing it is all about the light and form.

CNAM: When you do a nude do you see it more as a sexual image or are you trying to capture the beauty of the model?

SINGER: I think it is both. Part of the reason I know it is that is because, and I’m not going to lie here there is a sexual element to it. I did a portrait of a friend of mine, who died of cancer. We were good friends almost like brother and sister and she wanted me to do a nude of her for her husband, so I was like sure whatever. And I went over and did some preliminary sketches and took some photos for the painting. When she posed nude, I felt like it was really hard to do that painting because she was almost like a sister to me, there was no sexual tension there which made it really hard to do it. When I go to the Third Street drawing sessions in Albuquerque and draw that one dude who has a very lean body with a lot of muscles, obviously there’s not sexual attraction there, but I’m excited to draw him because the muscles, the lines, you can’t mess up the proportions on a subject like that. There are so many reference points on the male for

Monty Singer Jennifer 3 19.5� x 27.5�

Pastel on Paper

CNAM: Your work it is kind of romantic and reminds me of what is missing today….

SINGER: You think it is romantic?

CNAM: Yeah, I think that is one style that needs to be revived...

CNAM: It seems as if there is division between over-thinking artists and artists who can just create from inspiration, what is your take?

SINGER: A lot of artists are at war with their artwork and I can totally understand that. That is why my political piece “The Long Walk” was such a great idea.

For me those ideas come around once in a while and when I have one I’ll paint it. I can picture Bunky Echo-Hawk sitting and thinking of the next idea, like “Let me do Napoleon Dynamite next to a teepee.” I don’t know it seems like a constant thing. I can’t do that. I would get exhausted. When the ideas come and it sounds good and I can come up with the image then great I’ll do it.

CNAM: What questions do you get asked most when people interview you?

SINGER: Obviously, who are your influences or what inspires you, how did you get started?

CNAM: The same questions huh...

SINGER: Yeah...but my answers are kind of different and when people ask me how did you become an artist, I tell them that I didn’t plan it. I always say the same thing that I didn’t want to be an artist. I tried to avoid it for all these years. I was just working jobs and never fit in with whatever I was doing, but when Peggy came along and discovered what I was doing she started helping me with that. Then I gradually started getting back into it and discovered that this is who I really am, for better or worse. I think of it more as a curse. When people compliment my work and say that I am so blessed, I say: “No, it is a fucking curse.” I want to be normal with a job and securities. But my calling fights against that. This other side of me wants to create and make art. If you leave me in a cubicle long enough, I start to flip out after a while and create ways to sabotage my job and get fired. Then I go home and paint, work for six months straight.

CNAM: Do you think sometimes it is like a mental disorder?

SINGER: It feels like that at times. I am clinically depressed and I do have PTSD, but that’s more environmental stuff I think.

CNAM: You are very skilled socially; you can talk to anybody about anything...so it’s not about being antisocial.

SINGER: That whole thing of being socially skilled is ... here’s what I learned in therapy. Because of all the things I went through as a kid, this is the way I coped. I had to detach so to speak. A lot of times I was detached just so I could protect my self emotionally, but at the same time I was sort of mimicking what everyone else was doing and got very good at that. I know I’m not a sociopath, but there is a detachment disorder. Sometimes when things hit the fan with things and people, I can become a blank emotionally and it’s all mostly so I can function and not flip out. I know it is all meshed together with the art, my father is the same way. He can’t have a boss, he doesn’t like working a job, he’d rather stay in his dingy studio out in Grey Mountain, than trying to play the art game. He’s a brilliant painter, completely brilliant, but he just doesn’t want to play the game.

CNAM: So what truly inspires you? I know there are cheesy answers out there, but what gets you up to do this?

SINGER: It probably sounds cheesy, but...

CNAM: We can do cheese...

SINGER: With some crackers and some wine?

CNAM: As long as it comes with wine...

SINGER: For me it is about finding that place where the energy is flowing through you and there is this spark between you and the canvas. Where you don’t even feel your painting anymore, like something is guiding you from that point on. You don’t get tired, you don’t get hungry or thirsty, and you just go. You got this self-momentum going where you can’t stop and you don’t want to stop until it’s finished, and when I feel that, it feels like a high. I feel like there’s a connection with everything, it’s a spiritual thing. It is similar to when people go to church and they feel a connection to god or they were touched in some way and there was a spiritual connection. I don’t feel those things at a ceremony or at church; I feel that connection to the spiritual side of me when I’m drawing. I have to because I am addicted to that feeling.

CNAM: It sounds like a catharsis from when you start a painting to when you finish. You go through an emotional release so that you can become spiritually centered. You use art to stay at peace within yourself. I saw that today when you were sketching the model you were very peaceful.

SINGER: Really? It did kick in a couple of times. I didn’t give a shit what everyone in the room was doing, I wanted to be left alone for ten fifteen minutes to stay in that zone. I know I give out that vibe.

CNAM: Yes you were totally in your own world. My favorite artist Helen Hardin was like that. Her husband would check in on her after several hours and she would be working away, almost like she disappeared.

SINGER: It’s funny you said that, because that’s what I remember seeing my father do.

CNAM: Disappearing?

SINGER: Sometimes, he would be just in the studio and paint from morning till night. He would have a Kerosene lantern that he would be painting by. We would all go to sleep and wake up in the morning, he would still be there painting. That’s just how steep of a reverie he could get into. I know I do it too.

VINCENT KAYDAZHINNE www.kaydahzinnestudios.com 575.746.0053

HOKA SKENANDORE Street Art Whatever label you choose, “Street Art”, “Public Art”, “Public Action” or “Site Specific Mural”, graffiti is no longer an influence that exists in the margins. Mainstream society has embraced the style of the street from artists like “Kaws” and his ever-present marketing presence (from limited edition toys to Nike billboards) to “Twist”, aka Barry McGee and his fine art installations. Both of these prominent individuals started out painting illegally painting stylized lettering, a fact that follows the history of a new group of up and coming artists.

Graffiti Artists/Street artists share a common history which lies in the roots of the founding of Hip-Hop culture, which in turn has its roots in New York City and also in California. Hip –Hop culture is a massive influence and part of understanding it is to view its components. The “Four Elements”- Break Dancing, DJing, Rapping, and finally Graffiti are the cornerstones of a culture that has spread from New York to Copenhagen, to Sao Paolo, to Australia, and even to the heart of the reservation. There is a strong parallel with Hip-Hop culture and that of the Indigenous mind set; both respect the knowledge of elders, dance is a vital force, skills and knowledge are passed from one generation to the next, and there is a strong emphasis on understanding history. Graffiti is by far the oldest of the Four Elements of HipHop, its roots lie in the cave paintings of Lascaux, to the hieroglyphics of Egypt and on to the petroglyphs found across the Americas.

One factor that lends motivation to Native Street artists in particular is the conceptual idea that graffiti can be a form of cultural repatriation, by painting the infrastructure of the a country full of “stolen” land one can symbolically reclaim and momentarily redefine claims of ownership of “public” spaces. This conceptual thought process goes further into painting graffiti on trains. Trains were a vehicle of change, bringing death and destruction to the culture of the Indigenous people of the Plains, so to paint trains can transform a symbol of death into a image of beauty.

There are far too many artists to cover in one sweep, but some artist of note who are working to create new voices in Contemporary Native Art include Yatika Fields and his graffiti soaked abstractions, B-Boy and muralist WaterMelon 7, silkscreen Maestro SABA,

Santa Fe Indian Market Mural by the Mac and Jaque Fragua2012

the ceramic portraiture of Rose B. Simpson, graphic designer UNEK, the outspoken works of Ernesto Yerena, as well as the art of street-wandering Jaque Fragua . Each of the aforementioned artists has roots in the world of Graffiti/Street Art. Jaque Fragua in particular has been working with the N8VPA (Native Vapor) team as well as with the American Indian Mural Crew (AIM crew) to create murals across the country with other street artists and local Native youth. With so many young people being connected and tuned in to the innovations of Hip-Hop Culture we are looking at a generation of artists on the rise whose creativity resonates from traditional tribal backgrounds mixed with the sounds of rattling spray cans.

Canyon Road Temporary Mural 2012

“This photo is of Wilma Mankiller and Charlie Soap taken in 2006 in Oklahoma. Wilma was the first female chief of the Cherokee Nation. The one thing that resonates in my mind are the words of Mankiller, when asked what she thought was the most pressing issue in Indian country today and Wilma responded by talking about the damaging effects of negative stereotypes of Indian people. Wilma has always been an inspiration to my work as an artist.�

Avanna Lawson is artist residing in San Francisco, CA.