A Sculpture is Announced

Enroute between Santa Fe and Haida Gwaii, the whole family converged to offer our support and congratulations to my brother, the one and only, Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas. My brother is brilliant, both in his person and in his art. The city of Vancouver had commissioned a work of art from him for one of the public spaces. Now residing at 33rd & Knight is a beauteous creation flowing along the park that represents orca whales and salmon. Please visit it if you have the opportunity, just as these two Haida women did. Striking, aren't they? That is my aunt and my mom strolling across the lawn in happy conversation.

The Fading of Summer

Not one to rest on our laurels, the excitement of August had barely begun to fade when we made our way to South Dakota. Imagine if you will a woman who has spent the entirety of her life living beside the ocean. Now, imagine her spending eighteen hours watching the plains pass by....yoga breath yoga breath yoga breath. Alright, let's be honest, Denver was great and so was that truckstop popcorn and great doesn't even begin to describe this turquoise truck that we passed by! I had a attended my first powwow in the springtime in Albuquerque and while the regalia and the dances were incredible, the indoor venue was not comparable to the powwow that occurred in Eagle Butte. The people were dancing on the grass in the sunlit day and while the cold wind was blowing at night. We visited with friends and stayed with gracious hosts who opened their home to us. When we got back to Santa Fe, tennis was begun in ernest (as ernest as two mediocre players can be:) to combat all the fry bread (and roast mutton fry bread sandwiches) that I'd been indulging in. I returned to Haida Gwaii to complete and deliver a dance apron to Chief 7idansuu to compliment his robe. I pride myself on never missing a deadline but this was close. The apron was finished and one hour later was flown to Vancouver and handed over to Chief 7idansuu's amazing wife who whisked it off to Ottawa just in time for his sculpture unveiling. Sigh of relief! Back to Santa Fe I went as one of the one hundred invited Winter Market artists. Another weekend of weaving demonstrations and visiting passed in a blur and then home again to Haida Gwaii. Christmas and birthdays and more trips were on the horizon.

Taking Up Residency

The Santa Fe Art Institute became my new home in August. In early June, my Mom and Aunty Carol had accompanied me to Santa Fe for the awards ceremony. It was exciting to introduce them to some of the people who had made me feel welcome and also let them try some of the foods I had developed an addiction to. A dear friend's wedding in Vancouver followed and then we returned to Haida Gwaii. A few trips to the beach to dip net for dungeness crab and a beach bonfire or two later and I was on my way back to Santa Fe in July. I attended my first sundance, which for a person used to sea level, rain and a great deal of oxygen, was a bit overwhelming. Intriguing man headed off to South Dakota for a sundance while I chained myself to my weaving frame in an attempt to finish a bordered robe for Indian Market. Luckily the institute was peopled with caring and helpful staff who made life easier. The air-conditioned studios with lofty ceilings and great lighting made the long hours fly by. My Mom and eldest nephew joined me for a visit, to offer encouragement and to take part in what is the summer tradition of peeling the skins off of roasted green chilis. Next time we'll wear gloves. FYI peeling the chilis without gloves makes your hands feel invigoratingly tingly which shortly advances to a moderate burning sensation. Now we know.

The Unity Robe was completed and delivered for judging. It was my respectful creation acknowledging a Haida in the Southwest territory. Geese were woven flying across the top border, as they do in real life on their journey between North and South. The pattern All the Weavers made its way down each side border representing the impressive Haida weavers that inspire me and also the famously talented weavers of the territory that I was a guest in. The three borders surrounded a soaring Eagle which is one of the main moiety crests of the Haida and also a powerful symbol in the Southwest. I would have been content with having the robe finished but the ribbons that it garnered were the icing on the cake....the fritos in the frito pie? (If you don't know what a frito pie is, stop reading and book a ticket to Santa Fe. I also suggest a tamale or two, a breakfast burrito, some green chili stew and some of the best chocolate elixirs on the planet). A weekend of the likes I have never experienced began. We finished wandering around the convention centre looking at all the ribbon winners. The plan was to then to set up the booth. Except that it began to rain. There is a misconception floating around out there that I'd like to squash. The misconception is that it does not rain in the Southwest in the summer. Have you heard of monsoons? Exactly. The backup plan was to get up before the crack of dawn and set up then. Plan B it was. One hundred thousand plus people visit Indian Market over the weekend. I did not explain Raven's Tail weaving to all of them. Only half. Yes, I exaggerate but it did feel a bit like it. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to weave and not go to law school (this is only when I am in the middle of a large project and a deadline is looming largely overhead) but then along come people who restore my faith. One woman came down to find me after having seen the article written about me in the newspaper. She said that she had never come to the market before even though they live only a few blocks away. She said that she had to come and see my work. Another woman became teary during our conversation. A couple more people brought newspaper articles for me in case I hadn't seen them. Amazingly, one of the great women from the institute showed up as we were finishing setting up and, true to her word, had brought coffee!! A great deal of visiting was done, both with fellow booth mates, artist friends, interested people and yes, Alaskan cousins. A sunny Sunday found the market drawing to a close and I took a few minutes to quickly visit a few booths. In hindsight, a few minutes that would have been better spent dismantling the booth. Did I mention that the monsoon hour is fairly reliable? Usually late afternoon. Say, right around the time that we were chatting with one of our friends and admiring his jewelry. It started it off lightly and by the time we had reached the booth, it was raining steadily. Which grew to be a downpour followed by flooding. Perhaps I won't wear a white dress next year. Mom and I were grateful for the very chic green garbage bags that one of the other artists had. The intriguing man sent mom and I off to huddle under the massive central tent while he packed everything off to the car. We spent many minutes watching the rivers of water rush over my sandalled feet. Two nattily dressed gentleman sat and chatted in a relaxed fashion while their leather shod feet safely rested on a pair of folding chairs. We finally made a dash for the less flooded venue of a shopping arcade across the plaza. Next year I'm packing my Hunters, a knee-length rain poncho and a thermos of cocoa. If you're coming to visit, I suggest that you do the same!

Where was I....

...Oh right, so began many trips to Santa Fe. For those of you that are not aware, Santa Fe is home to the largest Native American Art Market which is held every August. Thousands of artists apply to a jury and little more than a thousand are chosen. Since it seemed fortuitous, I applied just before the January deadline to the governing body of the market, SWAIA, to be considered for one of their Residency Fellowship Awards. Then tried to put it out of my mind. Thanks to wonderful cousin Evelyn, I was invited by National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI I know I know) to demonstrate weaving at the end of February. It was greatly encouraging to sit in the rotunda surrounded by the talented female cousins, Linda, Holly and Evelyn and visit with the appreciative attendees. This was my first trip to New York and it was a running visit. I managed a brief foray into Saks 5th Ave only to quickly depart. You know that I'm not feeling well if I walk away from that kind of collection of shoes. Luckily I had been smart enough to hail a town car and took the driver's phone number. He came back and collected me (okay but not before I bought the Tom Ford perfume that I had been in want of...want no more, it is here with me now as I write this). Sunday morning found me feeling a great deal better and I wandered up to this store with Evelyn. If I could remember the name of it, I'd share it with you. Needless to say, two pairs of Jimmy Choo's later (they were on sale and yes, it makes perfect sense to buy one pair in black and the other in nude) and I'd become separated from Evelyn. We both found our way to the museum and had another successful day of demonstrating. Then the land speed record was broken by my driver who had to get me to the last flight leaving New York for Phoenix. The intriguing man awaited as did The Heard Art Show. From a rather chilly New York to balmy breezes and palm trees was moderately surreal. The show was eye-opening to wander around in and it was nice to run into people that I knew, both Santa Feans and Haida Gwaiians. Who else but a Haida girl would walk away from an art market in a tropical clime with a leather and sea otter fur Russian style hat? Yours truly. The perfect hat for North Beach walks and Santa Fe winters.

From that gathering of people in the Haida longhouse at MOA, I had met an elegant couple. From this meeting, more secrecy began. The cosmopolitan husband commissioned a bordered robe. His beautiful wife waited until he was out of hearing and then asked that the robe be a surprise gift from her for his upcoming birthday in the Spring. Those of you who have watched me try to play poker know that my career was short lived due to incomprehension of the rules and HAVING ABSOLUTELY NO POKER FACE. Months of weak half-truths and "I'm too busy to meet this trip, how about the next" followed. I felt bad misleading such a kind man but knew that it would be worth it when his wife accomplished her grand unveiling. The robe was meant to evoke eventide or the gloaming hour when the last light fades from the day and velvet blue descends. The beautiful wife said that I had woven poetry. We did not have a small tug-of-war as she prepared to depart. Well, okay, it is quite hard to give over something that you have spent months creating and living closely with. The robe went to a home that would love and appreciate it and so I let go. I do have visitation rights though!

It was an eventful Spring and did I happen to say that upon my return to Haida Gwaii, a letter from SWAIA awaited. Perhaps a little bird in Phoenix had already spilled the beans but I was all smiles to read that I was a Residency Fellowship Winner. What to pack?

The Weaving

While I had been spinning warp in Morocco, no weaving occurred. In life's varied and unexpected fashion, the wool for my wefts arrived in Fez from Canada the day before I was to leave. The Hageman-7idansuu Robe was invited to be a part of the SMASH exhibit at The Art Gallery of Greater Victoria in the spring. I was quite honoured to be asked and happy that Chief 7idansuu was willing to lend his regalia. The one hiccup was that the Hageman-7idansuu Robe was already invited and promised for display at the Time Warp exhibit at The Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coast Art in the summer. I had promised the curator in Victoria not to leave her with a naked mannequin in the midst of her impressive display. Of course, at the time of the promising, I had expected to have three months of weaving in Morocco under my belt when I returned!! A madness of weaving began when I returned. A black and white film of a robe worn over a century ago, a robe created by cousin Evelyn over 15 years ago and my sister Tracy's breathtaking creation of a graduation robe inspired The Woven Sea Robe. It is a marriage of a fully woven Chief's robe and a button blanket. Thus, the end result is a Haida crest figure in ultrasuede overlayed on a background of ultrasuede yet surrounded on three sides with a Raven's Tail woven border. Happily, with little sleep, the robe took its place in Victoria as Chief 7idansuu's robe made its way to Vancouver. This takes us up to the Time Warp opening in July which was a grand affair and yes, a perfect opportunity to roll out those red-soled Parisienne delicacies. It was an honour to stand with such an impressive assemblage of weavers. They represented strength and tenacity and creative fulfillment. The honour did not wane but certainly the standing in those shoes began to lose its glow!

A secret was afoot at this time. A wonderful man (shall he remain nameless and mysterious, cloaked in secrecy?...yes) arrived at the gallery to film some footage of yours truly. Why? Hmm....Tune in to the next edition for the conclusion of this weeks' story...

By the time I had began to recover from the excitement of those many months, September had rolled around and with it the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia's first ever World Art Market (or WAM at UBC's MOA for those in a hurry). This was the first market that I had decided to take part in. Predominantly due to the beauty of the setting and certainly for the kindness of those who devote themselves to its continued success. I set up my table top weaving frame and settled in for a weekend of explaining the art of Raven's Tail weaving. The happiness from the night before had yet to wear off as The Woven Sea Robe had been a First Place Ribbon winner at the Friday evening awards ceremony. The happiness did not wear off but was instead increased ten, a hundred, a thousand fold...

Kwii introduced me to an intriguing man...(more to follow)...

...and another lovely man walked into my booth and we began to talk. What a gentle and gracious man he was. Thus The Woven Sea Robe became the Wosk Woven Sea Robe. My brother Michael walked across the undulating landscape, past the reflecting pool and in a light drizzle of rain to the Haida longhouse wearing the robe. It was a time without time or rather it was a blurring of time as we stood in a modern city yet in front of the recreation of an ancestral landscape. Modern overcoats milled about tucked under umbrellas and yet there stood a beacon representing one of our ancestral symbols of wealth, power and status.

Rain drummed on the cedar roof of the longhouse. Dignitaries spoke as friends of the creation of the place where we had gathered, of the dream that came to fruition, of the people who made it possible. Michael spoke of the honour of the occasion. I spoke of the inspiration of a day on the waters of Haida Gwaii that became the Woven Sea Robe. We presented the robe to the man who makes the robe even more honourable. That weekend was a gift. Haa'wa.

The weaving tale continued that fall with a trip to Toronto as an invited exhibitor and speaker at the Haida Made exhibit at Toronto's Harbourfront Centre. If only we cousins, MNY, Evelyn and Reg, had known it was also the weekend of the Toronto marathon...(always check for marathons and bank holidays!). Then the secret footage came out as I was accorded one of the British Columbia Achievement Awards for First Nations Art by Premier Gordon Campbell. No, I did not say anything to him that resulted in his career change. Stop that rumour right now.

Conversations continued with the intriguing man... Visits to Santa Fe began. Treaty negotiations were opened in both territories.

Just Went Out To Get Milk...

...and that's why I've been absent from the land of Blog for so long. Shall we catch up quickly? My trip to Morocco ended with a trip to the hair salon and a trip to the aesthetician in preparation for the visit to Paris. The hairstylist came highly recommended. I think that he might have been fairly good but after the first hello and the choosing of a colour not my own, he was seldom to be seen. The young man who actually did my hair was nice but indeed, the end result was something that Jeff in Vancouver had to fix anyway. Note to self, think of all non-Vancouver excursions to undergo beauty treatments as an adventure...which leads me to the visit to the aesthetician. ( I did start with one aesthetician). Again, the spa came highly recommended. A sparkling, modern establishment where I was escorted to my treatment room. Well, perhaps this story is best told over a martini with some best friends. Let us just say that by the end of my appointment, I was in a small room with, by now, three lovely Moroccan woman who were scrutinizing me and alternately smiling and laughing. It was a very long appointment. Happily, once released from the scientific study portion of the day, I was turned over to the capable and gracious hands of a women who cosseted me through the hamman and gommage treatment. (Steamed and scrubbed with black soap and then massaged-very recommendable.) She even took out my hair tie and rinsed my hair. I was sitting on a spa treatment bed at the time and I think was transported back to all those childhood baths in the kitchen sink. Oh come on, we all have those photos! My return to Paris was bittersweet as I had to leave the opera filled mornings in the house and the wonderful culinary explorations and my daily routine of friendly faces coupled with an avocado smoothie or two. I jumped in with two feet though upon my return to Paris. Two red soled feet....