She wears her heart on her sleeve

                       

digging and dreaming

The 2012-2013 winter was spent between Chicago and the Esterly Farm in the pacific northwest. I’m not exactly sure what I was doing in either location other than restoring my strength to move from my professional pursuits into my authentic self. Looking back, perhaps I was making peace with each place so that I could walk away with or without their abundant gifts.

Until two years ago the Esterly farm had been a cattle ranch. During my residency I was anemic and awarded the best beef I could remember consuming. I made landscape art with forest debris. I learned about poison oak and my extreme allergic reaction – again. I feed chickens and stole their eggs. I picked nettles and I was taught how to tie-dye. I lived cheap, I downsized and I traveled out of state every month mapping my next move. I engaged with a steady stream of visitors and my 5 year old neighbor was generous in sharing her steady stream of art. I made a labyrinth and hung cloth hummingbirds in a tree. I explored how food and physical connection nurtured a slow growing trust with an unattended horse, lama and donkey. The week before I left I rode Lucy the horse bare back with friends beside me. My 15 year old neighbor and I spearheaded a simple mural painting on the barn doors. Additional creative contributions by other artists emerged as plants were put in place by farmers.

What did I learn during this time? Well, you know the phrase “you can chose your friends but not your family?” Community is both. By the time I left I was ready and reluctant. 

Sunflower Festival

It’s good to be here. The smell of sage after the rain grounds me in one breath. It makes me question whether or not I have been breathing since I left almost two months ago.

Today in Omak at the Paschal Sherman Indian School the sun is out in full shine. As are many, many students and families. The Sunflower Festival is clearly a popular event. Bill Joseph suggested it’s a good opportunity to re-visit the mural panels we developed at the Northwest Indian Youth Conference.

When I arrive at PSIS I am almost in disbelief to see one of my most talented and thoughtful artists pull up in the car behind me, Tashina. She is helping her mother with the photo display of hundreds of photos taken within the last hundred years on the St. Mary’s Mission / Paschal Sherman Indian School. Later I am welcomed by another gifted artist, Fernisha. In front of a doubtful friend, she asks that I confirm the parts of the panels she painted at the Northwest Indian Youth Conference. I am delighted. And later I see our “Princess” Shundina, vibrant in her spring regalia across the room during the powwow. We wave gleefully.

The day appears clear so we decide to lay the beautiful panels flat on the front lawn. Bill moves one panel all by himself. My stubbornness dares me to do the same. It’s hilarious, I imagine an ant carrying an entire piece of toast and this combined with Bill’s facial expression makes me laugh until I drop the panel. An innocent bystander calls out no more than three words and five adolescent boys appear to move the panels.

We put the panels in a prominent position. This draws attention from adults and elders who squint to read the small print narrative until I join them in conversation. This draws attention from youth who ask in such a good way: “who did this?” And when I explain the youth driven effort at NWIYC they tend to follow up with the question: “can I help?” So ready or not we paint. We paint people and baskets and green landscapes with flowers and single family homes and rain drops and a drum and more. 

I love this mural painting effort because there is no time to think and rethink and think again. Sets of bright eyes want to paint and I need to decide what to assign. Instantly and intimately.

 

Around 2pm, as the event is slowing down, menacing clouds roll in and we are told it’s hailing in town. Hands simply appear without asking and move everything gracefully. I am suddenly reminded of comfort. Like a smell of home or a childhood song. It leaves as casually as it arrives. Then it starts to pour rain.

In a covered space, our original place during NWIYC, the chalk mural is still on the ground and I am left to assess how far we have come. It's "Stage Two" and I resign to the idea there will be a "Stage Three." I decide to test some of the stencils with spray paint before I pack up. A young woman wanders over. Her name is Chanel. Bill calls her Number 5. I invite her to paint. She accepts. She notices what can be added or improved upon. She asks clever questions. She is sharp and her attitude is captivating. She tells us she will be picked up in ½ hour. She stays clear past that. She is finishing her Junior year in high school. Refuses to read Anne Frank in English. And despite her composure and confidence is couch surfing. Meaning there is no home for Chanel. She crashes with a variety of friends. And hitchhikes to get there. But not this time. Bill will drive.

When Bill returns with warm tea we rest our eyes on the landscape. I love the purple hue of the cliff side less than a thousand feet before us. Bill says if you watch patiently you will occasionally see deer move across this scene. It’s better than Where’s Waldo.

(Thank you Bill for the visual documentation.)

sunsets

Spring Arts Walk

April 22 & 23
Olympia Arts Walk and Procession of the Species
On display at Sweet Life, 522 Capitol Way

NWIYC: Mural (April 2011)

"Walking Two Roads: Learning From the Past to Better Our Future"

The Colville Confederated Tribes hosted the 36^th annual Northwest Indian Youth Conference the week of  April 4^th. Over 300 youth were expected from across the northwest, over 50 presenters, and a pow wow. It's an ambitious undertaking and I was finally being taken up on my offer to facilitate a mural painting project.

Ready or not J and I pick up Ras K’dee from the airport on Sunday the 3^rd and head east. J designs strategy and graphics for social and environmental justice campaigns, Ras is a musician and editor of SNAG magazine and I, well, believe in the power of public art and simply love being in this community.

Upon arriving in Omak WA we go straight to Paschal Sherman Boarding School where a majority to the conference is held. Things are already getting started. At the Omak Inn I am stationed as “security one.” During the course of the week I receive one noise complaint. A tv is too loud in room 117. These youth participants represent with unwavering honor and respect.

Day 1

For the conference organizers every morning starts at 7am with breakfast. At 8am “Doc” and I run to Home Depot for 5 4’x8’ wood panels, 8 colors of paint, and an assortment of other supplies. Everything is driven to Paschal Sherman. Meanwhile I stop at the Omak High School to watch Gene Tagaban address the crowd of participants. 

The day is cold. By noon the sun is claimed by the clouds and threatens rain, hail, snow. And the wind makes itself known. This is the forecast for the entire week.

At Paschal Sherman we are stationed at the periphery of the building, outside with a roof but no walls.  Workshops start at 1:30. There are 1 hour breaks between sessions. And we are scheduled til 8pm with dinner in between. We start with light drawing exercises and heavy writing exercises. We ask the youth to list the strengths and weaknesses of their communities. And they do. Later Ras offers a series of questions starting with “what is power?” I worry these kids won’t respond. But they put pencil to paper and don’t stop until they are told. I am stunned.

During the next session we gesso the boards. No one gets messy and the task gets done. Ras sets the tone and shares an interview with Luvva J.

For our last session we move inside, into the school’s science lab. There are aquariums and terrariums all around. We set up projection to display and explain mural examples. Over 20 kids arrive. They are rambunctious this evening. So we open with a brainstorm session. We return to strengths and weaknesses and explain the potential of portraying these in a visual narrative. And if we did, what would be the theme? 

Voting gets us down to three options: failing to prepare is preparing to fail; keep your head up; keep it native. "Get bucky" was also proposed. I admit, I did have to ask for clarification. We focus on "keep your head up" and realize the height of the panels will require you to do just that.

Ras passes out beautiful copies of SNAG magazine as giveaways. I should have grabbed one then. They went quick.

Day2

The conference schedule has changed. Shorter workshops, shorter breaks. These unanticipated changes become a daily routine. And we might have to forfeit our space inside despite the cold and precipitation outside. Oh, and the conference is actually 4 days not 5.

I think, maybe we’ll start painting today. But the closest we get to that is mixing colors. There is more writing and design to be done. My co-presenters make sure I don’t cut any corners or simplify the story. J has prepared a list of follow-up questions based on the writing we received the day before. I heard a theme of isolation I wanted to explore. You could seriously divide the youth writing into two camps: those who are motivated to succeed because of their families and those who are motivated to not be like their families. With the follow-up questions I make a request that the participants draw instead of write their responses. With this task most disengage. But those that can draw are extraordinary. One is Shundina Spencer. We now have a theme and we now know our youth leaders on this project.

In the evening we start to make stencils. There are flowers, birds, a feather, a ying-yang, and a heart.

That evening we attend the talent show. A young man by the name of Eagle performs a 15 minute guitar solo until the plug literally gets pulled. It’s classic and brilliant. 

Day 3

I map out a framework for the four panels. A series of hands that are connected than broken, reaching, and connected again.  

In the first session we ask participants to consider the four panel series and realize we are working with a circle, triangle, inverted triangle and circle again. We have a story through time. Four groups get to work. My co-presenters and I circulate to help generate creative conversation. The four panels become know as:

The circle of life (traditional past);

The storm (colonial disruption);

The change/transformation (now);

The future/reconnection.

It becomes clear that the present and the future are the most difficult to describe and depict. And there are many more than two roads.

During the second session we take down what we have and transfer sketches to panels. Youth participants volunteer to lie down and be traced across panels. We have three bodies connecting four panels, each hand in a significant position: holding hands, raised, hitchhiking, passing a basketball and reconnecting again.

At dinner Miss NWIYC gets named and it’s our treasured artist Shundina. We all hoot and holler and chase her for photos. 

That evening we returned to the panels to assess where we stand in the process. I run inside the school and bump into night security who happens to be artist Ken Edwards. I was going to print out a picture of a wolf but that won't be necessary. Ken hands me one he has already painted. And then he joins us in the cold and lightens our spirits with stories.

Day 4

An incomplete sketch is presented and the painting starts. All four panels are on the floor and waves of participants lend hands. Some stay all day. I give tours with each new cohort and then offer paint and brushes. J and Ras offer spray painting lessons and kids who made longboards bring them out to get stencils sprayed on. We keep it interdisciplinary.

I just wanted to know, how much more time do we have? Nothing else seemed to matter. Zekkethal comes out. She came to see the mural the night before. First silence, then curiosity, then conversation as she absorbed the panels. I was mesmerized. It was my intention to help amplify a story the youth had to tell and I knew it would be powerful. But I didn’t realize that I would help them tell a story that would then be received by the adults. During the following days adults from all over the state responded first with silence then admission that this was the story in their community. Then they joined in the process.

Zekkethal took me aside. She expressed her appreciation. And preferred the local youth finish these panels. Later. And we embraced for what felt like an eternity. I wasn't ready to let go of what we started.  

Day 5
 Zekkethal asked Bill to bring the four panels to the closing ceremonies. I cringed. Our final product was not complete. But when youth were asked to lend a hand to display the panels in front of their their peers there was no hesitation. When a youth representative from each district was asked to pick a panel to complete, they jumped. Standing with them I provided a quick overview of the process and the story and a huge shout out to the youth. Ras offered two awesome songs. The audience was captivated. Ready or not this phase of the journey was coming to an end. 

To be continued...

Deep gratitude to all who lent a thought, a hand, and a kind word. Love and appreciation to all the youth participants and the conference organizers, and to Kim and QT and Shihiya.  Eternal respect to Ras K'dee and J who consistently stood by my side as I pushed and pulled and learned more then I thought possible. And to the Family Policy Council, Laura Porter and Zekkethal Val Vargas-Thomas.

 

(Ras K'dee and Sister Kim)

wood (3-11)

dana passage shore (2-11)

wenatchee river swallow (nests)

waters

flesh colored bun (Cle Elum Oct10)

off Purdy Creek cut off (October 2010)

Spring Birds