gallery Online program:

King Galleries is pleased to invite Edd Guarino to be part of our web-site. He has been collecting Pueblo pottery and Inuit art for almost thirty years.  His collection has been featured in Museum exhibits, and he has written on collecting in magazines such as Native Peoples.  He has been asked to write on any topic he chooses, and we will post them online.  The opinions stated in his columns are his and do not necessarily reflect those of the gallery or its artists.  We are excited that this may be come a forum to facilitate communication about Pueblo pottery and Native art.  You are welcome to respond to us at kgs@kinggalleries.com or directly to Edd, at EddGuarino@AOL.com.

Enjoy!

Online Articles:

OFF THE TABLE:  From Kitchenware to Fine Art

By E. J. GUARINO 

             A number of ceramic shapes still produced by Native potters reveal the utilitarian origins of the art form.  As Moderns we may think, for example, that we invented the mug, but the truth is that Ancestral Puebloans, who flourished between 100 B. C. and A. D. 1400 and are the ancestors of all Pueblo people, were creating them more than a thousand years ago.  Although they produced pottery that was intended for use, these ceramics were artfully decorated and highly sought after in trade.  Today we may think of them as works of art but, originally, they served a practical purpose.  Nonetheless, they are also beautiful.    

Ancestral Puebloan back-on-white mug, 3 7/8” x 3 5/8” (ca. A.D. 900 – 1300).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

    Felipe Ortega is a modern artist who creates ceramics that are not only works of art but are meant to be used.  A few years ago I became aware of his work and was immediately impressed by their beauty since the micaceous clay he uses gives each piece a natural sparkle.  I purchased two mugs, one the traditional orange/brown and the other black.  I was told that it would be great to have my morning coffee out of them.  Although I know that the mugs are not simply works of art I have yet to bring myself to drink out of them.  

Micaceous mugs by Felipe Ortega, Jicarilla Apache/Hispanic;

Left: Black mug, 3½”h x 6” wide including handle (2007); Right: Traditional mug, 4”h x 6” wide including handle (2007)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

           Although we might not associate the tall, cylindrical shape of drinking glasses with Native culture, that form has existed among Native people in North, Central and South America for quite some time.  Known as beakers, these vessels were made out of a variety of materials – clay, wood, gold and silver – and used to serve an assortment of beverages.  In Mexico, they were used by the Aztecs for drinking chocolatl (from the Maya xocoatl), a cold drink made from cocoa, chilies, vanilla and other ingredients, and in South America the Inca and other groups used them for chicha, a corn beer.        

            I acquired a piece with this particular shape in the 1980s when I started to collect Native American pottery.  At an auction in Upstate New York, I bought a number of examples of early 20^th century Hopi pottery, among them a cylindrical beaker.  However, it wasn’t until many years later that I saw the similarity of this form to our modern glassware.    

Cylindrical beaker/pot with brown and rust designs on buff, artist unknown, Hopi, 5” tall

(Circa 1940s -1950s) Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College from

the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2008

            In 2005 I purchased a beaker by Jake Koopee and the light bulb finally went on.  Covered by a muted polychrome abstract design with a small figure clearly taken from petroglyphs, the piece is very reminiscent of modern glassware.  I bought it for this reason and because it made a wonderful counterpoint to the Hopi beaker I had added to my collection earlier.    

Beaker with multi-hued geometric designs and human figures by Jake Koopee,Hopi/Tewa, 7” tall (ca. 2005) Collection of E. J. Guarino

At another 1980s auction I also acquired an Ancestral Puebloan bowl.  Although it was broken some time in its history and much later repaired, it remains quite beautiful.  The piece displays the same aesthetic as our own since, whether full or empty, we tend to look at the interior of a bowl rather than its exterior.  When used at a meal, as the level of the food goes down, the design is revealed. 

Black-on-red Ancestral Puebloan bowl, 4”h x 8½” in diameter (circa 1300 A.D.)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            I acquired another prehistoric bowl on a trip to Denver.  It caught my attention because, at the time, I was avidly collecting Mata Ortiz pottery, which was inspired by ancient Casas Grandes ceramics.  

The Casas Grandes culture, which flourished between A. D. 1200 – 1450, spread across a large portion of what is today the modern Mexican State of Chihuahua and its influence was felt as far north as Chaco Canyon in present-day New Mexico.  Paquimé, the culture’s largest city, covered nearly ninety acres and was a major trade center for the dispersal of goods between Mesoamerica and the early Pueblo cultures.  Made of adobe, many of Paquimé’s buildings have iconic Ancestral Puebloan T-shaped doors.  These same entryways are also found at Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument 200 miles to the north and at Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon, 400 miles north of Paquimé.  Many archaeologists believe that the Casas Grandes culture was a blending of some Mesoamerican culture - Aztec, Toltec, or some other - grafted on to the Mogollon culture, which flowered between 200 B.C. and A.D. 1400 in what is now southern New Mexico, eastern Arizona and the Mexican states of Sonora and Chihuahua.

In the early 1970s a young named Juan Quezada from the village of Mata Ortiz often found shards of Casas Grandes pottery as he looked for wood not far from the nearby ruins of Paquimé.  These pieces of broken pottery set Juan to thinking and, through a process of trial and error, he re-discovered the techniques of pottery making employed at Casas Grandes so long ago.  In the process, he started an art renaissance in his village that is still going on.       

Casas Grandes polychrome bowl, 4”tall x 7” wide (ca. 1300-1400 A. D.)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

The two pre-historic bowls in my collection are a study in contrasts because the Ancestral Puebloan bowl has a decorated interior and a plain exterior while the Casas Grandes piece is plain inside but outside it is covered in abstract designs.  

Over the years, however, I began to wonder if the pre-historic pieces in my collection had ever actually been used for food and began to feel that they most probably had been part of a burial as most pre-historic Native pottery was.  For this reason, I stopped collecting this type of pottery early on.  Whenever I speak about collecting I mention the connection between pre-historic pottery, graves and the belief among many archaeologists and collectors that buying this type of ceramic may encourage looting of burial sites.  Instead, I encourage collectors to acquire historic pottery (for those who like older pieces) or contemporary pottery, which helps provide an income for a living artist.

A bowl in my collection that does follow the criteria of supporting a living artist is one by Felipe Ortega.  The piece, a combination of natural micaceous clay color as well as black, which is produced by limiting oxygen during firing, is a striking work of art.  Amazingly, although the piece was fired outdoors using bark, not in a kiln, it has no fire clouds.  The scalloped edge gives the work a delicate quality and the tiny specks of mica in the clay make the bowl sparkle when light hits it.  Like the mugs I own by Ortega, the bowl was meant for use.  However, I find it so beautiful that I can’t bring myself to cook in it.     

Traditional and black micaceous open bean pot by Felipe Ortega, Jicarilla Apache/Hispanic, 4½”h; 9” in diameter (2009)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Some works, which clearly are derived from tableware, are intended solely as works of art.  The plate form, probably borrowed from Spanish or Anglo culture, is one that I have never seen in pre-historic Pueblo pottery.  However, quite a number of Native artists, from Maria Martinez to contemporary potters such as Steve Lucas, Susan Folwell and Preston Duwyenie, have produced plates, which have no practical purpose.  Over the years I have collected a number of them.  One of my favorites is a plate with a wildly abstract design by Mata Ortiz potter Cruz Renteria Heras.  The piece is shockingly thin and the design, which is arresting, has a spinning quality.   

Plate with fine line and geometric designs by Cruz Renteria Heras, Mata Ortiz, Mexico, 11” in diameter (circa 2002 –2003)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Pottery is the heart of my collection.  It’s what I first collected and, almost thirty years later, the love affair continues.  I still discover new and wonderful aspects of this wonderful art form and I continue to learn from my collection.  I am also pleased that more people are realizing that Native pottery is not simply a craft but fine art as well.  Skill and craft are certainly involved but these are not enough to raise a piece to the level of art.  Of course, not every piece of pottery is a work of art but neither is every pot simply a craft item.  In some cases, such as the work of Filpe Ortega and others, for example, it is functional as well as art.    Today, museumgoers, collectors and curators are looking at Native pottery with new eyes and open minds and contemporary Native ceramic artists are demanding that their work be given the respect and recognition it deserves.  The spectrum of Native pottery is extremely diverse and offers many opportunities to those to who collect it to broaden their knowledge as well as to educate others.  

CAUGHT IN THE WEB:  The Pleasures and Perils of Internet Collecting

By E. J. GUARINO 

Collectors must ponder the benefits as well as the dangers the Internet offers.  On the one hand, it allows us to see a great deal of art in the comfort of our home, or anywhere else for that matter, since most galleries have web sites.  On the other hand, at this point in time, the Internet has few checks and balances so I warn people to approach online auctions with caution.  The dictum, “Let the buyer beware” definitely applies here.  Although it is often said that a picture is worth a thousand words, photographs can be misleading.  

For example, for years I had been buying Mata Ortiz pottery from two galleries in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.  On one visit I saw a lovely large olla in one of these galleries and asked if I could see it.  As I turned the piece around in my hands I noticed an imperfection about the size of a quarter.  I had missed it because the pot had been placed on an upper shelf with the flaw facing the wall and, therefore, out of sight.  This raised my first suspicion.  The gallery owner explained that the mark on the piece had been caused by animal droppings before it had been fired and immediately offered me a discount but I declined the piece.  

When I returned home I went on the gallery’s web site where I saw the same olla offered for sale.  Neither the photograph nor the accompanying text revealed that this pot had a defect.  Had I only seen the piece online I would probably have purchased it.  I never again bought from that gallery since I have a very simple rule with regard to my collection: Anyone from whom I buy art must, like Caesar’s wife, be above suspicion.  I expect gallery owners to be scrupulously honest and the overwhelming majority of them are since their reputations are at stake.

The owner of the gallery had a number of honest choices she could have made when she received the pot.  She could have simply rejected it or she could have offered it for sale at a discount but with full disclosure.  That she chose not to do so was very telling as far as I was concerned.  Reputable galleries are willing to answer any questions you might have and supply any information you require.  The key word in the previous sentence is reputable. 

All of the galleries from which I buy art, except one, are located outside of New York State so I must rely on their web sites to acquire new pieces for my collection.  I feel comfortable doing so because of the long-standing relationships I have with the owners and staff at each gallery.  However, many subtle qualities of artworks, such as color, texture and size, are lost in online images.  When a collector is forced to buy art from a JPEG because of the constraints imposed by distance, honest e-mail correspondence and phone discussions with gallery staff are essential.  As a collector I have to know that a gallery owner will not let me buy a piece that he or she didn’t think would add to my collection.  Buying solely from a JPEG is not enough since it can never replace seeing a work of art in person.  The experience is just not the same.  It is also essential for the collector to research the artist and the gallery if he or she has not purchased art from the gallery in the past.  I came to realize the great difference between viewing a photo of a work of art and seeing it in person while buying Inuit prints.  

Every year I purchase a few works from the Annual Cape Dorset Print Collection.  I view the prints online and then drive about a half hour to the Arctic Artistry gallery to view them in person and discuss the merits of each one with Elaine Blechman, the gallery’s owner.  As always, I arrived with my choices based on what I had seen on the Internet.  However, seeing them in person always changes the mix.  This was especially true of Sunlit Ravens by Kenojuak Ashevak which I spotted as I was about to leave the gallery.  

Sunlit Ravens by Kenojuak Ashevak, etching & aquatint; Paper: Arches White; Printer:Studio PM, 38/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset,

35.5”h x 40”w, Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection # 10 (2009).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

 “What is this?” I asked?  “I don’t remember seeing this.  It positively glows!” I gushed.  Of course, I had seen it on my computer but it had made no impression on me because the print’s incandescent qualities did not translate to a photographic image.  If I had not seen the work in person I would not have purchased it.    

However, this incident taught me a valuable lesson.  Because I am forced to depend on gallery web sites I now know to ask as many questions as possible about the piece I am considering acquiring.  Gallery owners and staff are always happy to supply information, which is not discernible over the Internet.  

For personal reasons, in 2010 Elaine did not take the Annual Cape Dorset Print Collection for her gallery.  However, we met and went over all the possibilities online and I finally decided on Young Bird in Flight by Kenojuak Ashevak, which she was able to get for me from another source.  

Young Bird in Flight by Kenojuak Ashevak, etching, aquatint, sugar lift & hand painted by Beatriz Sobrado Sámano,

31/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset, 30½”h x 40½”w, Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection # 13 (2010).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

 We both admitted that it seemed strange for us to be making a choice strictly based on our impressions of a print over the Internet but I trust Elaine implicitly and was more than satisfied with my selection.  

I was immediately drawn to the inherent humor of the piece – a young bird suddenly finding himself suspended in mid air – but I was also intrigued that a non-Inuit had hand painted each print (something that had never been done before) as well as by the use of the sugar lift process.  I had no idea what the term sugar lift meant so I contacted Patricia Phagan, the Phillip and Lynn Straus Curator of Prints and Drawings at the Loeb Art Center, Vassar College who said in an e-mail that it was an aquatint process.  She went on to explain that “ . . . you brush a design on the [printing] plate using a sugar solution.  Let the plate dry.  Coat the plate in varnish.  Then soak the plate in water.  The sugar will swell and lift the varnish off the plate.  These exposed areas are then covered with an aquatint powder and bitten in acid.  The resulting little pits in the plate will hold the ink when printed.  The process creates an effect of brush like strokes.”

Because of rapid technological advances the Internet presents an ever-increasing amount of benefits as well as dangers for collectors.  Some art galleries and even major auction houses, such as Christie’s, have apps for iPhone and iPodTouch.  These screens are much smaller than that of the average computer so it is even more imperative that a collector does his or her homework with regard to an artwork that is under consideration for acquisition.  In addition, digital aids such as Photoshop can be useful for a gallery to show more accurately the colors of an artwork but such tools can also be used to falsify color and light to make a piece appear better than it actually looks in person.  Again, trust is the key factor when dealing with galleries.  Collectors can also request that a gallery allow them to take a work on approval.  This allows the collector to view the piece in person and see how it relates to the rest of his or her collection.  Each gallery has its own set of rules as to whether or not they will send collectors artworks on approval.  

As a collector, one of the most problematic aspects of buying from the Internet is getting an accurate idea of a work’s actual size.  Since I am math phobic numbers don’t really register with me unless they have a dollar sign in front of them.  On more than one occasion, I have been surprised by the size of a work of art when it arrived.  Sometimes the piece was larger than expected and at other times smaller.  I now read an artwork’s dimensions very carefully and, using a tape measure, block out its size on the floor.  One such case was when I acquired Untitled (Successful Walrus Hunt), a monumental drawing by Kananginak Pootoogook (see “For the Record: Documenting Native Life through Art,” June 2010).  I had marked out the size, 48”h x 96”L, but I was still stunned when I actually saw the piece.  There was just no way to appreciate fully the panoramic aspects of the work on a computer screen.        

The success of some artists is based on an easily identifiable style, which they grind out cookie cutter fashion.  Such works appeal to collectors who want to own art that is immediately recognized as having been created by a famous artist.  I term this “collecting as status symbol.”  These collectors have no qualms about buying off the Internet because, in essence, they already know what they are getting.  However, other collectors (perhaps most) value works because of their artistic uniqueness and want to know as much as possible about a work of art they are considering acquiring.

Buying from an online auction is something quite different from utilizing the Web site of a reputable gallery.  The only information available about sellers on online auctions is what they write about themselves and their rating, which can be manipulated.  Also, if an artwork has defects or if it does not live up to the claims of the write up, returning it to the seller in an online auction can be very difficult or even impossible.   I always counsel people to buy from galleries since they have built their reputations over many years one client at a time.  My advice to those considering online auctions is the same as I give those heading to Las Vegas for a few days of gambling: Never risk more than you can afford to lose.  Also, even though the entire transaction is conducted online, it is possible for a collector to be stricken with “auction fever,” a bidding war sparked by the desire of two or more collectors to acquire the same work of art.  This can inflate the cost of a piece well beyond its actual value.  In addition, the seller can influence prices by simply having friends bid on the item. 

Fortunately, the Internet offers collectors a vast amount of information.  It is possible to find discussions of a gallery’s reputation, the average price points for work by a particular artist as well as articles critiquing the full range of an artist’s output.  However, it is up to the collector to take advantage of the Internet’s benefits while avoiding its perils.   

  CRI DE COEUR:  The Influence of Picasso's Guernica on Diego Romero 

By E. J. GUARINO 

            Over time, a work of art, like a person, can come to be regarded as an old friend.  That’s certainly how I feel about Picasso’s Guernica.  For much of its existence the painting was in exile, unable to be exhibited in Spain.  Picasso insisted that this seminal work could not be shown in his homeland until the Spanish people lived under a republic.  This was even one of the stipulations in his will. 

Guernica by Pablo Picasso, Spanish, oil on canvas 137.4” x 305.5” (1937)

            Because Guernica was housed at the Museum of Modern Art from 1958 until 1981, I was able to see it often.  During the years that the painting was on exhibition in New York my sister (ten years my junior) and I would frequently pop into MoMA whenever we were in Manhattan to stare in wonder at Picasso’s masterpiece.  (This was, of course, long before the era of twenty and twenty-five dollar museum admission fees.)  Guernica was one of the first works of art I introduced my little sister to and when it was sent to Spain we felt as if we had lost a dear friend that we would probably never see again.  It was almost twenty years before I once again stood transfixed before Guernica.  This time it was at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia in Madrid, the painting’s permanent home. 

            Guernica was first exhibited at the Spanish Pavilion at the Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne at the 1937 World’s Fair.  It had been commissioned by the Spanish Republican government and is Picasso’s response to the bombing of Guernica, a Basque town.  At about 4:30 in the afternoon of April 26, 1937, in an effort to support Franco’s Nationalist forces, German and Italian warplanes dropped 100,000 pounds of incendiary bombs on what was essentially a quiet village over a period of more than three hours.  Sixteen hundred people, mostly women and children since most of the men were at the front, were killed or wounded.  Those who sought refuge in nearby fields were mowed down by the machine guns of low flying fighter planes.  Fires burned for three days and seventy percent of the town was reduced to rubble.  Ostensibly, the target of the attack was a small arms factory on the outskirts of the town but it did not sustain even one hit.  The true motivation of the aerial bombardment was to strike fear in the hearts of the Republican forces through the killing of innocents.  Although the motivation for Picasso’s painting was a horrific event in a specific war it has come to be seen as an outcry against the devastation inflicted by all wars. 

Guernica took on a special poignancy at time of the Viet Nam War and, more recently, during the Iraq War.  It was during the latter war that I saw a bowl by Diego Romero titled Dead Solder [sic] and began to surmise that the painting may have had an influence on his art.  Although, at the time, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that the piece had been in some way inspired by Guernica I strongly suspected that it was. 

Dead Solder [sic], open bowl by Diego Romero, Cochiti Pueblo, 9”diameter x 4”deep

(2007) Signed: “Chongo made and painted me” Collection of E. J. Guarino

Picasso’s Guernica (detail)

After owning Dead Solder [sic] for a few years I decided to compare it to Guernica and discovered that Romero had taken the figure at the bottom, far left of the painting and had rearranged it for his own purposes.   The extended arm of the original was placed straight up and disconnected so that the image becomes one of dismembered body parts.  The other arm is separated as well and the broken sword it holds in the Picasso work is replaced by a handgun.  The figure is also given a military helmet to reinforce the idea that it is a dead soldier.

My “eureka moment” came in 2011 during a series of Email conversations with collector Ric Welch.  As it turned out, Ric was thinking of selling some major pieces of his pottery collection through the King Galleries.  My interest was particularly piqued when he mentioned two of the pieces he was considering were bowls by Diego Romero.  When the bowls became available for sale through the gallery I immediately knew I wanted to acquire Guernica.  I then contacted Ric to get more information on the piece since earlier he had mentioned that it had been a commissioned work. 

According to Welch, in 2005 he attended the Santa Fe Indian Market with the sole intention of meeting Diego Romero and acquiring one of his bowls.  That year Romero won best in his division and as soon as Welch saw the work that garnered the artist this honor he knew he wanted to acquire it for his collection.  He decided that to achieve his goal he would arrive at Romero’s booth at 3:00 AM so as to be first on line.  However, much to his dismay, when he got there another collector was ahead of him. 

Although he was crestfallen over being unable to buy the piece, Welch said that he spent some thirty to forty-five minutes talking to the artist about his life, his art and the themes in his work.  Eventually, Romero agreed to do a commission, a large bowl with the imagery to be decided upon later.  In the course of many phone conversations, artist and collector concurred that the design of the bowl should involve Romero’s signature Chongo Brothers visiting some iconic U.S landmark.  The piece was to be in the vein of Chongo in the White House.  One possibility considered was replacing the Statue of Liberty with a Chongo brother holding a platter of cheeseburgers rather than a torch.  Also discussed was the idea of a jar with four panels featuring Chongo, camera slung around his neck, on a world tour of famous landmarks such as the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, etc.  However, once again, Fate intervened.

During a later phone call, Welch and Romero discussed a video clip from the Middle East both had seen on the news earlier that week, which showed a father and his son caught in crossfire and crouching against a pockmarked wall as shells and rockets exploded in the streets around them.  In the course of their conversation Romero noted that the scene reminded him of Guernica.  As the focus turned to the Picasso painting both Welch and Romero were excited to discover that they both felt the work was one of the most important paintings of the 20^th century.  A day or two later Romero sent Welch images of sketches he had done based on Guernica but filtered through his own unique perspective.  One of the images was the figure with the severed arm but Welch chose the mother holding her dead child.  According to Welch, “It was my hope he would do the entire painting, chongofying it as it were.”  Welch went on to state that the bowl “. . . was not, in any way, a collaboration.”  He and the artist did discuss the painting on the phone but the use of imagery based on Guernica was completely Romero’s idea.  When the bowl finally arrived the collector was astonished.  He said that he immediately knew that “one masterpiece had given birth to another” and added, “I had felt very strongly that the collector who got up before me at market that year had gone home with the piece that was meant for me.  In fact, his early rising had created the detour needed in the convoluted journey that ultimately led to this magnificent bowl.  If he hadn’t been such an obsessive insomniac Guernica might never have been created at all!”   

Guernica, open bowl by Diego Romero, Cochiti Pueblo, 13.5” diameter x 6” deep, gold leaf

painting on the inside rim (2007). Signed: Chongo made and painted me “Guernica” Collection of E. J. Guarino

In his reworking of Picasso’s masterpiece Romero made the imagery contemporary but none of its timelessness is lost.  Both works are a cri de coeur, a cry from the heart.  The woman with the dead child, found in the middle far left in the Picasso painting, becomes the central figure in the Romero version.  She still screams out her anguish but Romero makes it visible through the addition of “speech lines,” a stylistic touch borrowed from comic book art.  Other changes include giving the figures brown skin, a buried amphora (a reference to the Middle East) and skull (suggestive of all past wars).  Perhaps Romero’s most brilliant artistic stroke was the addition of missiles raining down.             

	Romero’s Guernica bowl (detail)	Picasso’s Guernica (detail)

                        Since Romero created the bowl during the Iraq War, Welch suggested its title should be Baghdad.  However, the artist rejected this idea in favor of Guernica.  By doing so, Romero acknowledges his debt to the Picasso original while at the same time referencing the massacre of innocent townspeople by Franco’s forces and making the bowl a biting condemnation of all wars rather than a political attack on a specific war. 

            Picasso’s Guernica has a cinematic quality, surrounding and enveloping its audience.  At one and the same time, the viewer feels compelled to step back in order to take in the entire scene while wanting to rush forward to see all the details.  Although inspired by the Picasso painting, the Romero bowls, because of their size, draw the viewer in with a sense of intimacy.  The central image is taken from a large flat painting and concentrated into a much smaller, concave format and, with the addition of the missiles, creates the same tension found in the original.  One has no choice but to look closely. 

            Diego Romero is not the only artist to be creatively simulated by Guernica.  The list of those who readily admit the painting has influenced their work reads like a Who’s Who of modern art: Jaune Quick-to-See Smith (who visually quoted the work in her painting Trade Canoe for Don Quixote), Arshile Gorky, Adolph Gottlieb, Barnett Newman, Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko, William Baziotes, Robert Motherwell and Jackson Pollock.

            As an artist, Romero, like his contemporaries, refuses to allow others to dictate where he may find inspiration for his work.  He draws from Pueblo history, Greek mythology, Mimbres designs, comic book art, and mainstream American art as well as from European art. 

Guernica is not the only Romero work influenced by a masterpiece of the Western art cannon.  The artist’s Luncheon in the Canyon, for example, is a reinterpretation of Manet’s Luncheon on the Grass but from a Native perspective.  (For more information on this subject see “New Directions: Pueblo Printmaking,” July 2008.)  Romero’s reworking of iconic masterpieces is in keeping with his admiration for Picasso who did his own “versions” of works ranging from Velázquez to Manet.            

The author would like to express his thanks to Ric Welch for his invaluable help with this article.

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY:  Rick Bartow's Works on Paper

BY E. J. GUARINO

            Artists have the power to make us confront aspects of human existence that we might otherwise ignore.  They force us to see life as it is rather than as we would like it to be.  Good art challenges us to see in a new way, making us introspective and shaking us out of our complacency.  The purpose of art is not just to present us with “pretty pictures”.  Rather, it is sometimes shocking or disturbing, shedding light on the darker corners of our world.   We may prefer to turn away but great art compels us to look.    

            I was completely unaware of Rick Bartow’s work until I saw “Continuum: 12 Artists” at the National Museum of the American Indian in 2003.  Bartow’s paintings in this exhibit were powerful, dark and anguished and I was immediately intrigued.  Fortunately, the wall texts indicated that many of the works on view were on loan from the Froelick Gallery in Portland, Oregon, a city I was scheduled to visit in a few weeks. 

            Since I couldn’t afford one of Bartow’s paintings and, even if I could, they were too large for my apartment, the gallery’s staff suggested I focus on the artist’s works on paper, which were (and still are) quite affordable.  I was shown a range of works and I immediately realized that the artist’s output was not solely angst-driven.  Many of the images I saw were clearly about strength, survival, facing problems head on and a passion for life.  Although Bartow often employs a somber palette he is just as likely to use bold reds, oranges and yellows.  I am also fascinated by the numerous influences on the artist’s work that include Vermeer, Chagall and Francis Bacon as well as Expressionism, Japanese prints, and Maori, African and Native American art. 

            The first piece I acquired by Bartow was Yanagisawa Hawk 100, a multimedia piece.  I was not only taken by the powerful image I saw but I was also intrigued that the artist had combined gouache, pencil, graphite as well as painting, drawing and writing on handmade paper.   

Yanagisawa Hawk 100 by Rick Bartow, Wiyot,

multimedia: gouache, pencil and graphite on handmade paper, painting/drawing, 9”w x 13”h (1997). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Bartow often uses images of hawks in his work, which function as a stand in for the artist.  In this case the artist writing his name above the hawk and the red printing underneath, which is the artist’s name in Japanese, reinforces the idea.  Referring to these birds, Bartow stated, “They’re auspicious.  They’re eavesdroppers.  I think they are quite special.  They are cautionary: warn of impending danger . . . They remind me to be vigilant.”

The word Yanagisawa in the title refers to the Yanagisawa Gallery in Saitama City, where the artist had his first solo exhibit in Japan in 1994.  It is believed that this unique mixed-media creation was most likely made for “Drawings: Flowers and Animals,” a 1997 exhibit at the Yanagisawa Gallery. The kanji characters in the work were already on the paper when it was given to Bartow by Japanese printmaker Seiichi Hiroshima.  Also curious is the use of 100.  Bartow often non-sequentially numbers his pieces but these designations do not refer to the total he has produced on a specific subject.  There seems to be no apparent system to the numbering so Yanagisawa Hawk 100 might be the fifth hawk image the artist has created or the fiftieth.  It is just a way of identifying a particular work.  

My acquisition of Rick Bartow’s works on paper continued with Strong Spirit, a print that reinforces the idea of an animal as symbolically representing the artist.  Bartow has also employed this device with the raven, the hawk, the eagle, the coyote, and the bear – each animal expressing a different aspect of the artist’s personality.  

Strong Spirit by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, drypoint/etching, 7/20, 18”w x 13¼”h (2000).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

The image is a self-portrait with an eagle superimposed over it.  In it the man is wearing a stars and stripes bandana, something Bartow often does, which may be a reference to the time he spent serving in the Viet Nam War.  A portion of the left side of the figure’s face is scribbled out so that human and bird look out at the world through the same eye.  This blending of imagery gives the piece a transformational quality, an important aspect of the Bartow’s work.  This is one of the first prints the artist made with Seiichi Hiroshima and was done about a month after Bartow’s wife died of breast cancer. 

            Although transformation plays an important role in many Native cultures, Bartow expands the conceit from the traditional concept of humans and animals being able to change into one another to the idea that everything we know is in a constant state of change.       

            While many of Bartow’s paintings have a strong expressionistic quality quite a number of his works on paper are surrealistic.  For example, in Sueño Ginka the artist combines images in a cinematic, dreamlike manner.

Sueño Ginka by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, drypoint/etching, 1/20, 10”h x 14”w (2001). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Sueño Ginka mixes together Mexican, Native American and Japanese elements.  The word Sueño means “dream” in Spanish and the kanji characters say Ginka, the name of a Japanese art magazine.  Bartow combines the two in the title and visualizes the concept with the head with closed eyes at the bottom of the print.  The work also combines varied imagery: a man on horseback (taken from an old, popular Japanese print), a self-portrait, and a crow holding an eye in its beak.  Once again, the artist has chosen to blend his own image with that of a bird, in this case the crow, which is one of the most intelligent creatures in the animal kingdom.  As an important culture figure in Northwest Coast Native American mythology, Crow or Raven is both a trickster and a figure that often helps humans.  His most famous exploit is stealing the sun and carrying it in his beak, thus bringing light into the world.  Eyes play an important role in Bartow’s work and in Sueño Ginka the sun is transformed into an eye, perhaps symbolic of the artist’s unique vision. 

First Vision by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, drypoint print on handmade Japanese paper by Seiichi

Hiroshima, Tokyo, 2/16, image size: 4½”h x 3¼”w; paper size: 9½”h x 7”w (2003).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Bartow’s art is deeply personal and often reflects difficult inner struggles, an aspect of his work that is clearly reflected in First Vision, another print in which the artist once again blends himself with the crow.  The imagery in First Vision refers to similar work produced around 1979 when, as Bartow put it, “. . . what later came to be referred to as ‘transformational’ arrived at the end of my #2 Ticonderoga pencil. . . .”  Over the years the artist had to deal with the loss of his wife, his Viet Nam War experiences as well as other personal problems.  These struggles have informed his art.  Bartow is clearly an artist who is not afraid to confront his personal demons. 

            The blending of creatures into one surreal image reaches its pinnacle in Nature Observed in which eyes are not just an important symbol but the dominant motif.   

Nature Observed by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, drypoint print, /14; image size 9” x 8;” paper size: 14¼” x 11¾” (2006).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            A crow, a coyote, a human eye and a man’s face are blurred together.  With regard to this device Bartow stated, “. . . hawks, owls, eagle, coyote, beaver and on and on – they are me and I am them in observation and lesson.”  For the artist, this work is an ecological statement about how everything in Nature is interconnected.  Although the print is titled Nature Observed, the eyes in the piece stare out at the viewer leaving one to wonder just who is observing whom.                      

            Consisting of amorphous shapes, body parts and seemingly omniscient eyes peering out from an inky blackness, Night in the City is one of Bartow’s most enigmatic works.   In it the artist makes our most paranoid fears palpable.  

Night in the City by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, Carborundum print, trial proof with hand coloring:

            paper size: 15” x 11;” image size: 9” x 6” (2009).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            In speaking of Night in the City, Bartow has acknowledged the influence of Max Beckmann, a German artist who, like Bartow, distorted figures and space and whose work defies easy categorization.

            Bartow created four versions of Night in the City, each unique because of additions done by the artist’s hand.  These works are carborundum prints, produced by a relatively new process invented in the 1930s, which allows artists to work on a large scale while achieving a rough texture and depth of tone.  However, this technique does not lend itself to large editions. 

            Bartow’s work is powerful, sometimes disturbing but it is never banal.  Whether it is the expressionistic brush strokes of his paintings, the elemental rawness of his sculptures, or the surreal imagery of his prints, Rick Bartow’s work is always visceral and visually arresting.  He is an artist who has taken the difficulties he has encountered in life and transformed them into profound, moving and dynamic art.  

 The author would like to express his gratitude to Rebecca Rockom, Director of the Froelick Gallery, and to Rick Bartow for their invaluable help with this article.

BIRD IN MOTION:  The Graphic Art of Eliza Naranjo-Morse

BY E. J. GUARINO

Why are we attracted to the work of some artists while that of other artists holds no appeal?  This is a question that I’ve often pondered.  Perhaps an easy answer is that an art work either speaks to us or it doesn’t.  That is the mystery and wonder of art.  It might also be that, as fellow collector Ric Welch says, the work of some artists “involves so much repetition and so little innovation.”  For this type of artist, once they have found a successful “formula” they stick with it.  Artists who work this way are often very successful, their work much sought after.  Collector’s can immediately recognize that a piece was created by a particular artist and, perhaps more importantly, so can their guests.  I find that this type of creativity holds little, if any, appeal for me.  I am attracted to those who are willing to take chances and to stretch the boundaries of their art.  Eliza Naranjo-Morse is such an artist.  Each new piece is a surprise; I never know what to expect.  Her restless spirit is like a bird in motion, constantly looking for artistic sustenance.

¡A La Machina! by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, etching with phosphorus for glow in the dark effect,

  /25, 18”h x 15”w (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

           When I first saw ¡A La Machina! I didn’t quite know what to make of it but, nonetheless, it fascinated me.  Literally translated, the title means “To the machine!”  Of course, the title of an artwork may not have anything to do with what the piece is about.  In fact, many artists intentionally do not title their work so that viewers can come to it unbiased and arrive at their own interpretation free of outside influences, including that of the artist.  The print ¡A La Machina! is based on a drawing of the same name.  According to the artist the piece is a compositional study in which she is attempting to look at a surface in a new way and completely fill it.  She was happy to explore this idea again when given the opportunity to create an etching as part of an Arizona State University program called Map(ing). 

As it turns out, the title of the piece has a great deal of meaning for the artist.  When she attended the Pueblo Day School in Tesuque she and other students used the phrase “¡A La Machina!” to mean “Whoa!”  Since Naranjo-Morse and her friends didn’t speak Spanish, it was only later that she came to find out exact meaning of the phrase.  In the artist’s mind the term “¡A La Machina!” came to represent the mixture of cultures that is Northern New Mexico.  Adding to the complexity of the print is the fact that it glows in the dark which, to me, is just one more indication of Naranjo-Morse’s playfulness, willingness to experiment and her joy in her own creativity. 

Baby by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, monotype, colored pencil, marker, 22” x 15” (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

           Art functions much like dreams: the rules that apply in real life are not necessarily valid.  My first impression of Baby, for example, was very different from what the artist had to say about the piece.  The horse’s gaping mouth, the focus of the work, reminded me of Picasso’s Guernica so I thought Naranjo-Morse was making a wry comment about children or motherhood.  Unconsciously it may be, but consciously the artist was in the process of perfecting her technical skills by drawing animals from life.  Since she works mostly in abstraction, Naranjo-Morse felt it was important to explore figurative work as well.  “Baby”, the artist explained, “is a less careful, looser, spontaneous piece. Again, I am working with compositional aspects, but really there’s the playfulness that’s fun, easy, sweet, reckless.”  The result, however, is not a slavish reproduction of Nature but, rather, a radical interpretation of it.  The bright colors and the dominance of the horse head give this enhanced monotype a surreal quality.

Common Cloud by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, monotype, colored pencil, marker, 22” x 15” (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Looking at Common Cloud it is easy to believe that it was inspired by the artist looking up at the sky.  Naranjo-Morse said the following about the subject of this work: “The cloud is this nice medium between barely really existing and being totally, certainly there.  In its total ephemerality [sic} it always exists as itself.  It changes like crazy and is still a cloud . . . . Common Cloud is a valuable and complete idea for me because it’s everybody and everything.  It is an expression of the collective unconscious.  It is for me like drawing that concept.”

           That Common Cloud is loosely based on Nature is beside the point.  It is a fascinating abstract work that draws the viewer in by use of shape and color, creating a sense of a sky that hangs over a fantasyland that just might be Oz.  This print is yet another example of the artist’s complete openness to inspiration from wherever it might come.

Bird in Motion I by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo,

mixed media, acrylic, china marker, colored pencil, and glue on butcher paper, 23“ x 33.25“ (2011).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Bird in Motion I and Bird in Motion II are part of a series of works in which Naranjo-Morse wanted to explore the parameters of representation as opposed to abstraction.  According to the artist, she wanted to move away from what she considered the “total freedom” of her abstract pieces and concentrate on a something that would force her to work within strictly defined limitations such as the image of a bird.  The bird’s form became the subject for Naranjo-Morse but she added energy to these works through color (bold strokes of bright yellow-green) and line quality.         

Bird in Motion II by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, mixed media, acrylic, china marker, colored pencil on butcher paper, 24“ x 37.50“ (2011).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

           In each image the bird is seen in a different aspect of flight, its body in motion.  Both works are exhilarating to look at because of how the creature is rendered.  In addition, Bird in Motion I employs papier collé, or pasted paper, to create the wings.  It is a technique invented by Georges Braque in 1912.  The term is derived from the French verb coller meaning “to glue” or “to stick.”  A more well-known term is collage though this is used when an entire work is made up of pasted bits of paper, rather than just one section.  Use of this method gives the work a layered, almost three dimensional quality.  Furthermore, in both Bird in Motion I and II the artist employs holes cut in the paper.  Usually, in Naranjo-Morse’s work this represents snow.      

            Naranjo-Morse is not unlike Willem de Kooning, one of the most important artists of the 20^th century who was noted for his restless experimentation.  He insisted, “Art should not have to be a certain way.”  For de Kooning, figuration and abstraction were not opposites but, rather, different options.  He believed that an artist was free to work in either vein or even both in the same work and de Kooning often did so.  Eliza Naranjo-Morse also moves comfortably between figuration and abstraction and, like a bird in motion or snow or clouds, her work is constantly changing and reflects an emerging artist who is struggling with abstraction versus representation but doing so with a consistent artistic vocabulary.    

YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU:  The Importance of Museum Donations

BY E. J. GUARINO

At a recent dinner party an acquaintance of mine asked me how I could spend a lifetime collecting beautiful things and then just give them away.  He was referring to the fact that every year I donate works from my collection to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College, something that had become a topic of conversation.  I must admit that (perhaps because I have been asked this on numerous occasions) my immediate response was a bit flippant.  “Because you can’t take it with you,” I quipped.  Then, realizing that the person who had posed the question had approached the subject from the point of view of an architect/designer, I tried to explain (probably poorly) my rational for “giving away” pieces from my collection.  Fortunately, a friend who is intimately aware of my collection came to the rescue.  “You have to understand that collectors are a bred apart,” he said.  “They see collecting as a creative endeavor much like writing or painting.  For them it is not merely about decoration or acquiring objects.  It is an ongoing process and making donations is often necessary for a collection to evolve.”  I couldn’t have said it better.

            Whether or not those present who are not collectors truly understood or not is unclear.  However, the question that had been asked forced me once again to consider why it is, exactly, that I do “give away” works of art, some of which I’ve lived with for almost thirty years. 

                        For collectors, it is always a good idea to ascertain a museum’s particular needs before offering to donate works of art.  If the institution already has ten works by a particular artist they may not want an eleventh or if it has a collection rich in a particular area it may be forced to reject a proposed gift as redundant.  Each year before selecting pieces to be donated I contact members of Vassar’s faculty and the staff of the Loeb Art Center to ask which areas – pottery, baskets, beadwork, textiles, works on paper, etc. – would be most beneficial to the museum and to the college’s courses. 

            In selecting pottery, for example, I try to select as many different styles and shapes from a range of Native groups.  I chose a pot by Dolores Garcia Lewis (one of Lucy Lewis’ daughters) because of its bold, classic black-on-white lightning design and its lovely shape.  On the other hand, the black and red jar by Fannie L. Pollacca Nampeyo was chosen for its elegant shape and complex Hopi patterns.  In addition, the piece had been shown at the Loeb in 2006 as part of Forms of Exchange and it is also on the exhibit’s web site so I felt it was time for it to be in a museum setting.     

 Adding to the Iroquois beadwork that had already been donated to the Loeb required careful consideration.  I wanted to select pieces that were visually arresting and historically and artistically important.  Choosing contemporary pieces was a factor but, for educational purposes, I felt that, wherever possible, an historic counterpart should be gifted as well.

            Two prime examples of “comparison and contrast” (always a favorite with educators) were two large Iroquois pincushions in the collection.  One, circa the 1880s - 90s, bears the image of an eagle holding two American flags in its beak and grasping an arrow in its talons.  Collectors covet anything with an American flag or other U.S. symbols and because of the shape and age of the piece it was a perfect choice for donation. 

            In 2004 Lorna Hill created her own take on this classic Iroquois form.  Like the older pincushion, Night/Day, the contemporary version, has eight lobes but makes no patriotic statement.  Rather, while it references the past, it is clearly art for art’s sake.  The work’s central design, made up of white and pink beads, appears to whirl around a single blue bead.      

            Comparison/contrast was absolutely on my mind with regard to three Iroquois pinch purses in my collection since that was one of the major reasons for acquiring them.  The first of the three to be purchased was the one created circa 1890 and described as “rare” when I bought it.  Since I did not have this form in my collection and had never seen a piece like it before I immediately snapped it up.  Of course, I now wanted a modern example.  (It was the opposite sequence with the large pincushions.  I first acquired the modern example and then actively sought out an historic piece.)

Rare three-sided Iroquois pinch purse with flower design, 6¼” x 3” x 3” (circa 1890).

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2010

I decided to contact contemporary beadwork artist Samuel Thomas, who said that he could definitely create a modern version of the historic pinch purse.  Although I was familiar with Sam’s work, which is often a wryly humorous critique of historic tourist forms, I was not prepared for what arrived.  Sam’s pinch purse was much larger by far than the historic example.  By its size and use of strawberries, strawberry flowers and a hummingbird, all symbols of the Iroquois afterlife, Sam’s creation boldly, even defiantly, proclaims itself a Native work of art.  

            A few years later, I came across a miniature pinch purse by Lorna Hill, Sam Thomas’ mother.  While Sam’s 2003 piece exploded a tourist form by super sizing it, Lorna achieved the same artistic result through miniaturization. 

            As a group, I felt that the three pinch purses would make excellent donations since they illustrate the artistry and inventiveness of historic and contemporary Iroquois beadwork artists.

            In considering what examples of basketry to donate I once again wanted a range of works, including some that were unusual.  A beaded basket by Betty Hatalie was an obvious choice.  In addition to being visually spectacular, the basket is an example of a little known aspect of Navajo art.  Many people, even those who are quite knowledgeable about Native American art, are unaware of these Navajo baskets or attribute them to other tribes such as the Ute.  (For more information on these striking creations, see Ellen K. Moore’s excellent article “Designing with Light: Navajo Beadwork Today” in the Autumn 1995 issue of American Indian Art magazine.)  Furthermore, this type of basket illustrates the cross-culturalization of two Native American groups since Navajo beadwork artists create their bold designs on baskets made by the Tohono O’oodam. 

A very different blending of cultures is illustrated by a Native made basketry hat that has clearly been influenced by non-Native forms.  The piece is a wonderful example of the skill and adaptability of Akimel O’odam artists but whether or not the hat was made to be worn is unclear.  However, after examining it, my feeling is that it was created by the artist primarily to showcase her talents and was inspired by hats worn by cowboys, many of whom were Native American.  Interestingly, at the Heard Indian Market I saw miniature versions of this form made by modern O’odam basket weavers.   

Akimel O’odam (Pima) basketry hat, ex Fraser Hemdon Collection, artist unknown,

5½”h x 11½” in diameter (circa 1886 – 1914).

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2010

            Over time, the number of works gifted to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center has varied, though my goal has become to donate fifty or more works of art annually.  Since the museum is part of a teaching institution I feel it is important that students have access to as many Native works as possible as well as being exposed to a broad range of Native art.  In less than five years at least three students have done their senior thesis utilizing Native pieces now in the Loeb’s permanent collection, two students have done an independent study on Iroquois beadwork and Pueblo pottery in my collection and another has just requested to do an independent study on Inuit works on paper.  In addition, members of the Vassar faculty have utilized gifted works in various ways.  As a collector, it is more important to me to educate future generations about Native art than to have bragging rights that one day my collection will reside in a museum with world-wide name recognition. 

It is difficult for collectors to part with pieces from their collection, especially those they have lived with for many years.  However, it is less so if done for a greater good.  For most of the history of my collection I clung tenaciously to each and every piece.  I collected in an encyclopedic fashion and it was only years later that my focus changed and I came to realize that giving up some pieces would allow me to acquire those that might otherwise be out of my reach.  Museum donations became a perfect solution that benefited me through tax deductions and the museum by acquiring new works of art.  In these difficult economic times it is especially important for collectors to consider museum donations since many of these cultural institutions can no longer afford to purchase new works.  However, I have recently become aware of a trend among collectors: some are offering to sell their collection to a museum rather than donating it.  This is problematic since only those that are heavily endowed will be able to acquire important collections.  Museums are an integral part of our country’s cultural fabric and as collectors it is imperative that we support them in any way we can.     

 Anyone wishing to support the Native American Studies Program at Vassar College through a donation of Native art or a monetary gift should contact Dr. James Mundy, Director of the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center, at JAMundy@vassar.edu. 

NOW THAT'S FUNNY:  Humor in Native Art

BY E. J. GUARINO 

Native people are often portrayed as somber and humorless.  Rather than being seen as complex individuals having diverse human characteristics, they are stereotyped as serious and having no sense of the comic aspects of life.  Popular culture has often presented them in one way – the “cigar store Indian,” silent and stiff.  This notion couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Humor has always been a mainstay of Native culture.  Though it may not necessarily engender belly laughs, Native art is filled with examples of subtle wit, whimsy, parody and even satire.

One of the richest humorous traditions in Native art, for example, is that of the Mimbres, a culture that flourished in what is today southern New Mexico between A.D. 1000 and A. D. 1280 and created some of the finest ceramics in the world.  In addition to wildly abstract designs and detailed representations of their world, the Mimbres also created whimsical, often quite humorous depictions as well. 

Among the most beautiful ceramics in the world, Mimbres pottery has influenced a wide range of contemporary Native potters.  Emma Lewis, for example, has drawn heavily from Mimbres imagery for many of her designs, as did her mother, the famed Lucy M. Lewis.  Many of Emma’s pieces are witty interpretations of ancient pots.  One of the most humorous of her works in my collection is a small bowl covered with mosquitoes that are drawn in such a way that they look like Jimmy Durante.  It’s impossible not to smile when you look at this pot.        

Black-on-white bowl with Mimbres-style mosquitoes by Emma Lewis, Acoma, 2¼” x 4”

(c. 1980s) Collection of E. J. Guarino

Another humorous work in the collection is a Mimbres-style plate by Mata Ortiz artist Anna Trillo.  When I first saw this piece I found the two figures, which seemed to me to be playing maracas, quite funny, almost silly.  However, the plate’s central image, taken almost directly from a pre-historic Mimbres bowl, is thought to represent the mythological Warrior Twins riding on the neck of a crane, a creature associated with the Underworld.  Each figure actually holds a prayer stick and a rattle.  These two culture heroes appear in stories and artwork throughout Mesoamerica and the Southwest.  What appears humorous to the modern viewer may, in fact, have had a much more serious meaning for the Mimbres.  In one version of the story, for example, the Hero Twins defeat the Lords of the Underworld in a ballgame, an activity that had ritual significance throughout Mesoamerica and into what is today Arizona.      

Mata Oritiz plate by Anna Trillo,

Mimbres-style male, female and bird figures in the center of an abstract design

6½” in diameter and 2” hign (ca. 2003 – 2004)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            A very different piece is a miniature pot crawling with insects.  By working small, the artist forces us to consider these odd looking bugs, creatures most of us would prefer to avoid.  Nonetheless, the little pot is whimsical and funny.    

Red ware miniature pot with sgraffito insects by Janet Rodriquez, Mata Ortiz, Mexico,

1½” x 2“w (ca. 2000)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            I was immediately taken by the humor in the design of a large plate by César Dominguez, Jr.  At first glance the piece appears to be covered with abstract patterns but on closer inspection one sees a series of fish.  It is not until one looks even more carefully that the artist’s true intent becomes apparent: the imagery is fish skeletons.  When I acquired the plate the artist’s father César Dominquez, Sr., one of the most well known Mata Ortiz potters, shook his head and told me that he just didn’t get what his son was doing.  The imagery is not only a departure from what usually decorates Mata Ortiz pots but also its humor is macabre.  I laughed and thought to myself, “The generation gap is alive and well in Mexico!” 

Plate with skeletal fish design by César Dominguez, Jr., Mata Ortiz, Mexico,

 10” in diameter and 2½” high (ca. 2003 – 2004) C

ollection of E. J. Guarino

            Susan Folwell’s “Blockheads” pot is an example of Native satire that is in the Pueblo tradition of making fun of people in positions of authority to knock them down a peg or two.  This piece was inspired by a dispute involving the leaders of Santa Clara Pueblo and is the artist’s comment on the controversy.

            This is not the first time Folwell has used the “blockheads” motif to make a point.  In 2006 she produced a plate titled The Blockhead Manifesto through which she satirized tribal policies.  The use of these figures is daring, even shocking (depending on one’s point of view) since they are dressed as traditional Pueblo dancers but are literally made into blockheads, indicating their lack of understanding 

Blockhead Dancers pot by Susan Folwell, Santa Clara Pueblo, 9”w x 12.75”h (2009)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Although the wedding vase is an introduced form that has come to be seen as traditional and is popular because it is regarded as a symbol of marriage, Marcus Wall’s version is something else again.  Wall has drained the sentimentality out of this vessel through his uniquely cynical sense of humor.  Rather than a glossy take on marriage, Wall’s vase pokes fun at the institution by using micaceous clay to give the piece a dun color, which is accentuated by black fireclouds.  The mica glittering in the fired clay subtly hints at the joys of marriage so the piece isn’t totally negative or pessimistic.  However, the artist’s most powerful and humorous barb is reserved for the section of the vase where there would normally be a handle connecting the two spouts, which represent the bride and groom.  In Wall’s version this connecting piece is transformed into a chain.  Ironically, this darkly humorous wedding vase is fast becoming the artist’s signature piece. 

Wedding vase with chain by Marcus Wall, Jemez, micaceous clay, 11½”h (2011).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            When I first saw Robert Sorrell’s See Other Side bracelet I had no intention of buying a piece of jewelry since I rarely wear any.  However, I was immediately taken by the work’s inherent artistry and good natured humor.  The cuttlefish casting of the bracelet’s front creates wave-like patterns, evocative of water, and the raised, jagged line may represent an avanyu, a serpent-like creature associated with water or it may signify lightning.  There is also a barely discernable hole which, when looked through, directs the eye to an arrow on the reverse side bearing the artist’s last name.  The interior of the piece also has the images of two hands with extended index fingers, one pointing to the small hole, the other pointing to the arrow as well as to a “ribbon” bearing the inscription “SEE OTHER SIDE.”  The more “traditional” side of the bracelet masks the underlying humor of the piece.  Since acquiring this bracelet, everyone I show it to immediately begins to laugh when I direct them to look at the reverse side.    

See Other Side bracelet by Robert Sorrell, Navajo, cuttlefish cast silver,

6” x 1¼” x 2½” (2010-11).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Sam Thomas’s Big Berry Boot was another work that appealed to me because I immediately saw its inherent humor.  At the turn of the last century Iroquois artists made pincushions, often called “whimsies,” in various shapes that were sold to tourists at places like Niagara Falls.  Those made in the shape of women’s boots were particularly popular.  Until recently, these works were not fully appreciated.  Regarded as unimportant trinkets, they were often derogatorily referred to as “tourist art” because originally they were created to be sold as souvenirs.  With his usual, wry sense of humor, Sam Thomas took the form and turned it on its ear.  Most historic boot whimsies were generally not more than eight to nine inches high and about five inches at their widest point.  By creating a “super sized” boot Sam makes a humorous comment while forcing the viewer to take note of the whimsy as an important artwork.  In addition, he covers the boot with strawberries and hummingbirds, which have spiritual significance for Iroquois people.  The artist gets us to chuckle but he also makes us think.       

Big Berry Boot by Samuel Thomas, Cayuga,

strawberry and hummingbird floral design, beads, red velvet, white cloth, 14½” x 8½” (2003)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Funds were low when I first saw Bountiful Sea but it was so delightfully whimsical that I knew that one way or another I would add it to my collection.  Once again, layaway came to the rescue.  I was much taken by the image of two large salmon trying to eat the scores of little pink sea creatures swimming around them.  Each of the little marine animals is amusingly rendered and adding to the humor of the piece is the fact that some of them seem to be swimming out of the print’s border.  Also, the colors employed are bright and cheerful, even electric, not something one would expect in a piece about one species devouring another.    

Bountiful Sea by Meelia Kelly, lithograph; Printer: Pitseolak Niviaqsi, 36/50; Inuit, Cape Dorset,

 28”w x 21”h, Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection #15 (2006) Collection of E. J. Guarino

Ningeokuluk Teevee, one of Cape Dorset’s rising stars, is becoming known for her sometimes-biting sense of humor.  She not only has a strong graphic sense, but also has a talent for presenting traditional aspects of Inuit culture in her own unique way.  Hers is a decidedly contemporary sensibility. This is obvious in Many Eyes, an unconventional drawing with scores of eyes in varying sizes staring back at the viewer.  The humor of the piece is disconcerting since it makes us wonder who or what, for that matter, is looking back at us.    

Many Eyes by Ningeokuluk Teevee, ink, Inuit, Cape Dorset, 16” x 13” (2005/06)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Known for her dark (some might say twisted) sense of humor, Suvinai (also Shuvinai) Ashoona has staked out a territory that is all her own.  There is no other Inuit graphic artist who produces imagery quite like hers.  Suvinai’s work is complex and highly detailed.  Often, she creates fantastical landscapes that seem to have emerged from the mind of Rube Goldberg but much of her work is filled with her unique sense of humor.  String of Pearls, for example, presents large hands, which dominate the page, prying open a clamshell.  Of course, pearls are found in oysters, not clams, but that doesn’t matter to Suvinai.  It is just part of the fun.  Also, these little treasures are not found already strung.  To add to the humor of the peace the artist makes the pearls look like eyes that are peering out of the shell.    

String of Pearls by Suvinai Ashoona, etching & aquatint, 17/30; Inuit, Cape Dorset,

31.5” x 22.6”, Cape Dorset Spring Collection #6 (2008) Collection of E. J. Guarino

            There are certainly serious, even controversial, works I’ve acquired but humor is one of the hallmarks of my collection and more than one curator has also told me that it is “fun.”  As far as I’m concerned there is nothing wrong with that and the humorous works provide a counterbalance to those that deal with some of the more disturbing aspects of life. 

A VIEW TO A THRILL:  The Quest for That Special Work of Art

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            One of the great delights of being a collector is unexpectedly coming upon a work of art that is so wonderful that you feel stunned.  It is a reaction akin to love at first sight, as if you have just been hit by the proverbial “lightning bolt.”  This produces such a thrill in the deepest part of your being that you must have the piece.  I have experienced this with many works in my collection but whenever it happens it always comes as a complete surprise.  Recently, a diverse range of artworks created just such an endorphin rush in me.

            The first time I saw Tribal Force: Native American Super Heroes by Jason Garcia was via the Internet.  Even though I was seeing the piece filtered through a digital medium I immediately knew I had to acquire it for my collection and when I saw the jar in person my first reaction was confirmed.  For his inspiration Garcia drew on Tribal Force, a comic book by Jon Proudstar (Yaqui, Mayan, Jewish, Latino) and Ryan Huna Smith (Chemehuevi).  The jar portrays the artist’s father reading Tewa Tales of Suspense, a comic book that often appears in Garcia’s work.  Other figures on the piece are Captain Johnny Cloud (from the Losers comic book series), Little Sure Shot (from the Sergeant Rock comic), Earth, Little Big Horn, Gaan, and Thunder Eagle (all from Tribal Force) and Scout (another Native American super hero).  As a collector, I was quite touched by the artist’s homage to his dad and it was a factor in my acquiring the piece since it made me think of my own father.  Beyond that, the jar is full of movement and color and, while it draws on tradition, its use of Native super heroes and the comic book form is thoroughly modern.         

Tribal Force: Native Super Heroes jar by Jason Garcia, Santa Clara, 7”w x 9”h (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

           My reasons for acquiring Tewa Tales of Suspense #18: Behold PO’PAY!, a large format tile by Jason Garcia, were a bit more complex.  In 2009 I purchased a print by the artist based on an earlier tile.  However, although that tile was available, at the time, I didn’t have the funds to purchase it and lived to regret it.  The fact that I had the print (one of only twenty), but not the work it was based on, gnawed at me for three years until I walked into the King Galleries recently and sitting there was “the tile.”     

 Tewa Tales of Suspense #18: Behold PO’PAY!, tile by Jason Garcia, Santa Clara Pueblo , 11” w x 15”h (2011).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

           As it turned out the work I saw was part of a series of numbered tiles created by Jason Garcia.  Version #18 (the one I acquired) turned out to be larger than the original one made by Garcia.  However, I hadn’t even perceived that at first and as soon as I laid eyes on the piece I pointed to it and exclaimed, “Sold!”  I was much relieved to have both tile and print.  (For more information on the subject matter of these two works, see “New Directions: Pueblo Printmaking,” July 2008.)

Tewa Tales of Suspense: Behold PO’PAY! by Jason Garcia, silkscreen,  3/20, Santa Clara, 19” x 15” (2009).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

             As soon as I saw Casino, a little gem by Susan Folwell, I immediately knew I was going to buy it.  Though small, it packs a humorous wallop, poking fun at the proliferation of gambling establishments on tribal lands.  Two hundred and twenty-five tribes in thirty-two states run casinos but such establishments are more highly concentrated in the Southwest.  However, casinos are controversial among Native people and Folwell, along with other artists, has elected to comment on the debate in comic fashion.

 Casino, seedpot by Susan Folwell, Santa Clara Pueblo, 2½”h x 3“ in diameter (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

             In addition to the images of coins, dice and playing cards, the artist’s use of shape, an inverted seed pot, adds to the commentary.  Although an introduced form, in the minds of many the seed pot represents fertility since they mistakenly believe that such pots were used by Native Americans to sprinkle seeds on their fields.  Folwell takes advantage of this misconception because, in her version rather than being in the top, the pot’s hole is at the bottom, reinforcing the idea that casino’s, with their paved parking lots, are the antithesis of agriculture.       

 Eye See You, seedpot by Susan Folwell, Santa Clara Pueblo, 4“h x 17“ in diameter (2011).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

             A pot covered with eyes is not to everyone’s taste but it sure suited mine.  As soon as I saw “Eye See You” I couldn’t take my eyes off of it (no pun intended) and when I was told the title, I was sold.  Yet another take on the seed pot form by Susan Folwell, this work would be the envy of any self-respecting surrealist.  In fact, the piece is reminiscent the 1929 film Un Chien Andalou by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí as well as the Dalí dreamscape in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1945 thriller Spellbound.  It was Folwell who pointed out to me the fact that the work is shaped like an eyeball and has a cork stuck in it, which adds to its twisted humor    

Guns N’ Roses, pot by Susan Folwell, Santa Clara Pueblo, 6“h x 4“at widest point (2010). Collection of E. J. Guarino

 My interest was immediately piqued when I saw another pot by Susan Folwell decorated with images of guns and roses.  I found the piece interesting because of its sly reference to popular culture, its beauty, and its subtle eroticism.  The title is an allusion to the hard rock group Guns N’ Roses and is a motif that the artist has used before.  In addition to the work’s slightly phallic shape, roses are a female symbol while guns are usually a male emblem, giving the pot a sexual component.  A sense of delicacy is achieved in the piece through the use of sgraffito which highlights the images of guns and roses.

I first saw one of the plates that came to be part of Glen Nipshanks’s Mermaid Series in December 2008 at the NMAI Holiday Market.  I had never seen anything like it and was particularly taken with the combination of abstraction and representation, the contrasting smooth and rough qualities of the piece and the unusual use of turquoise.  Since I had very little money on me at the time, I asked if more works in the series would be produced and I was told that would happen the following spring.  On the basis of a handshake, an agreement was made (a wonderful experience I’ve had with a number of artists): Nipshank would send me photographs of the new pieces; I would choose the one I liked and then send him a check.  (For more information on the background of this series see “The Naked Truth” August 2009.)

Mermaid plate by Glen Nipshank, Big Stone Cree, turquoise, pearl, 10” in diameter (2009).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

 Although the artist has told me that he has tried more than once to leave this subject behind, Nipshank seems to be under the spell of the siren’s song and periodically returns to this series, producing variations on the theme.  The next time I encountered the mermaid she had taken on a completely different guise – acrylic colors!  Again, it was at the NMAI Holiday Market.  However, as much as I wanted what would be a wonderful counterpoint to the first plate I had acquired, Nipshank would not sell it to me, however, because it had been damaged in transit.  Once more, I would have to wait before I could possess the mermaid. 

            Since I would be traveling to Arizona a few months later, Nipshank suggested I visit his studio in Tucson (a temporary base of operations) so that I could watch my piece being fired.  As luck would have it, during the process my plate exploded as sometimes happens with pottery.  I was disappointed but not as much as the artist.  It seemed my wait was destined to be a bit longer.    

Mermaid plate by Glen Nipshank, Big Stone Cree, acrylic paint, turquoise, diamonds, 9” in

diameter (2011).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

             When the piece finally arrived I was astonished.  In the intervening time, the artist had taken the concept of his mermaid series to another level.  As in earlier versions, the piece mixes both the abstract and the representational and, as always, Nipshank had selected the perfect stone for the mythical being’s face but now, in addition to acrylic paint, the artist had added diamonds – for stars in the sky and, more importantly, for the mermaid’s nipples.  This daring innovation heightens the eroticism of the piece.  Also, in this newest plate the mermaid’s hair and the sand beneath her become one so that the viewer is not sure if she has just risen from the water or is lying on her own long, sensuous hair.     

Untitled plate with white-on-black concentric circles and four “golden stones” by

Anita Fields, Osage, ceramic, gold leaf, gold luster glaze, 9¾” in diameter (2010).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Much like Op art, a white-on-black plate with concentric circles by Anita Fields had a mesmerizing effect on me, drawing me inward toward the four “golden stones” at the work’s center.  I’m still contemplating what it is exactly about this piece that so attracted me.  Perhaps it is simply that I had never seen anything like it before or maybe I am fascinated because, to me, the work looks like some sort of futuristic prospector’s pan containing gold nuggets.  As humans, when we encounter a work of art we immediately begin to question what it might “mean.”  I certainly did with this piece.  However, the more I thought about it I began to realize that the piece really didn’t have to have a meaning in the usual sense of that word.  What made me understand this was a recent visit to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan where I saw Grey Scrambled Double Square, a 1964 painting by Frank Stella that consists of two squares made up of multi-colored stripes that reminded me of the Fields plate.  According to Stella his work is “. . . based on the fact that only what can be seen there is there . . . . What you see is what you see.”  Perhaps it is meaning enough that Anita Fields took an everyday functional object and through her artistry transformed it into something of beauty and wonder.   Of this work Fields stated, “I started making a series of smaller bowl type forms to  begin working out some ideas rolling around in my thoughts about very bold graphic patterns paired with gold symbols, just wanted to see what I could come up with, a little departure from the very large platter forms I usually make.”      

           Although my collection contains a number of works on paper by Rick Bartow, owning one of his sculptures eluded me until recently.  Because the artist’s work in this particular medium is usually quite large it was a challenge to find a piece that I liked and could afford that would be appropriate for an apartment.  I had just about given up when I saw Bear and Crow Conversation at the Heard Museum’s Berlin Gallery.  As soon as I saw this sculpture I knew it was “the one.”  It struck me as raw, spontaneous, and playful.  Since the piece appears slightly off kilter, with Crow standing on Bear’s head, it has a humorous quality that appealed to me.  According to the artist, “Crow is a messenger/rascal of sorts and bear is a healer/doctor of sorts.  The whole piece is a ‘crow’ job in that it is composed of wee bits of this and that found most often on the shop floor as detritus from other jobs.  If the shop were cleaned I wouldn’t know how to proceed but when I am done I feel good and that I suppose is the ‘bear’ part of the work.”  It is somehow fitting that the work is made up of found objects since crows regularly collect materials that catch their eye.

Bear and Crow Conversation by Rick Bartow, Wiyot, wood, 16”h x 9.5w x 7.5d (2008). Collection of E. J. Guarino

             Looking at the sculpture one can’t help but wonder just what the conversation of the title might be.  Is Bear asking Crow what it is like to be a trickster or is Crow asking what it is like to be a healer?  Then again, it may be a discussion about transformation since, with such large lips and an oddly shaped head, Bear looks quite human.  In the wild crows have been known to amuse themselves by repeatedly flying by a bear and pecking it in the head so, perhaps, Bear is simply saying to Crow, “Get off my head already.  You’re annoying me.”  The possibilities are endless.   

Sunflowers in Winter by G. Peter Jemison, Seneca Iroquois, acrylic, mixed

           media on Takashima bag, 18” x 17” x 5.5” (1995). Collection of E. J. Guarino

            When I was shown an array of G. Peter Jemison’s mixed media creations on paper bags at the Heard’s Berlin Gallery my eye immediately went to the work I ultimately chose.  However, with so many pieces before me I started to second guess myself, never a good thing to do.  I decided I would think about all my possible choices for a day or so and pray that none sold until I could reach a final decision.  Since images of Sunflowers in Winter kept popping into my head I finally realized my selection had been made. 

           The dead sunflowers have a delicately Asian quality that is reinforced by being drawn on a Takashima bag.  The purpose of the sunflower is to be a vessel for seeds and when the plant dies it is discarded.  Shopping bags are also thrown away once they have served their purpose as a container for goods.  Both the flower and the bag are ephemeral and this work is a meditation on the transient nature of existence.   

           Collecting Native art can be exhilarating because there are always so many surprises to discover.  True, sometimes there are disappointments when a work of art you covet is purchased by another collector.  However, savvy collectors eventually acquire a philosophical outlook, believing that what is meant to be will be.  Of course, I have heard tales of collectors who break down and cry or berate gallery staff if a piece they want is purchased by someone else.  Of course, such behavior takes the fun out of collecting for everyone and it is my personal belief that it affects a collection’s karma.  On a number of occasions I have missed out on a work by a particular artist only to discover a better one by the same artist a short time later.  Native artists create so many amazing works of art in a diverse range of media that a new and exciting acquisition is always “out there.” 

PAPER CHASE:  Pueblo Graphics Revisited

BY E. J. GUARINO 

           As a collector with limited funds, I have always focused on areas that were underappreciated by other collectors and by museums and were, therefore, undervalued.  When I became interested in Inuit drawings in 1995 prices where shockingly lower than for Inuit prints and so they were quite affordable.  Over the years the market has righted itself thanks to the farsightedness and advocacy of art dealers such as Patricia Feheley of Feheley Fine Arts in Toronto and Judy Scott Kardosh and Robert Kardosh of the Marion Scott Gallery in Vancouver.  They helped build a base of collectors who have an avid interest in Inuit drawings.  Charles King, owner of the King Galleries of Scottsdale, and Andrea Hanley, director of the Heard Museum’s Berlin Gallery, are performing the same service for Pueblo works on paper, which currently do not garner the same high prices as Pueblo pottery.  Having collected Inuit works on paper for over fifteen years, my interest in Pueblo graphics is a natural progression.    

My introduction to Pueblo works on paper came via the prints of Diego Romero, Virgil Ortiz and Jason Garcia and eventually, I became aware of Eliza Naranjo-Morse’s work.  At that point I was hooked and my appetite for Pueblo graphics became insatiable.  With this new collecting interest I was once again on a quest to find the best examples to add to my collection.  Building a new area of strength within a collection is both challenging and exciting.    

           Recently, while browsing the King Galleries web site (something I do on an almost daily basis) I came across Bobcat and Butterflies, etchings by Joseph Lonewolf.  As soon as I spotted them, I was immediately interested since they were an aspect of the artist’s work that was completely unknown to me.  I was also drawn to the pieces because they have a distinct Asian quality, which I found intriguing. The etchings, based on designs found on Lonewolf’s pottery, were done in editions of sixty and produced in either 1977 or 78.  (Research is still being done to pin down the exact year.)         

           Bobcat, although it clearly has Native American elements such as the small swarm of Mimbres-style mosquitoes in the upper center, also employs images that look very much like those found in Chinese art such as a semi-circle inscribed with what is known as a meander or meandros, also called a Greek key design.  At the top end is a small Mimbres goat and at the bottom is a small, naturalistically rendered butterfly.  The meander is found in the Hellenistic world, Native America and in China where it appears in Shang Dynasty (1700 -1050 BC) bronzes and on many buildings.  However, it is the coupling of this pattern with a round medallion surmounted by a bobcat, looking very much like a tiger, which gives the work its Chinese feeling.  The etching is a blend of abstraction and realism since a butterfly and a flowering yucca plant are realistically rendered while nearby is a feather pattern, which has a snake-like appearance, reminiscent of an avanyu or feathered serpent, an important Native symbol throughout much of the Americas.       

 Bobcat by Joseph Lonewolf, Santa Clara Pueblo, etching on brown rag paper,

            17/60, 17“h x 22“w (1977 or 78).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

At first glance, Butterflies simply appears to be a naturalistic print of a plant attended by a group of butterflies.  Upon closer inspection, however, much more is revealed.  In addition to the delicately rendered plant with its hanging seed pods and the group of flying insects, there is a hummingbird and a group of Mimbres-style mosquitoes on the right side of the work.  On the left there is a design similar to a feather pattern, which includes a butterfly and a kokopelli figure.  The base of the plant has four bear paw prints, a swirl design, a feather design and a lizard with an abstract pattern on its back.  Once again, the artist has combined the naturalistic and the abstract to great effect, producing a work of startling delicacy.

Butterflies by Joseph Lonewolf, Santa Clara Pueblo, etching on brown rag paper, 17/60,

17“h x 22“w (1977 or 78).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

Jarrod Da’s art was also completely unknown to me when I came upon it on the King Galleries’ Web site.  I was struck by the variety of the artist’s images, drawn from traditional Pueblo culture, yet all thoroughly contemporary.  Da has stated, "I learned to live my life by merging the two worlds of a contemporary lifestyle with the native way of life.”  It is a philosophy that is clearly reflected in his art.  Also, according to the artist, Nature’s complex patterns and colors have had an important impact on his work.

The influence of the natural world, though abstracted, is evident in Da’s Dragonfly/Texture, a spectacular pastel work combining a biological form, geometric shapes and traditional Tewa patterns on the insect’s wings.  Through the use of sharp angels and non-naturalistic shapes the artist has captured the essence of this creature since these insects are, in fact, geometry in motion. 

Dragonfly/Texture by Jarrod Da, soft pastel drawing, San Ildefonso, 21“x 29“(2010).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

As with much art produced by Native artists, representations of animals and plants are often perceived as literal and are usually viewed almost solely through an ethnographic or anthropological lens.  This is not the case with the work of non-Native artists.  Would anyone insist that the flowers painted by Georgia O’Keefe were just flowers?  Although dragonflies do have symbolic significance among a number of Native groups, the drawing of this insect by Jerrod Da is more about abstraction of form than representation of Nature.       

            When I first saw Da’s Restoration/Underground the word apocalyptic instantly came to mind since the drawing’s startling imagery is at once unsettling and mesmerizing.  I had no idea what the piece might “mean” but I knew instinctively that it was an important work.   

The images in the piece take on the appearance of collage and include a circular feather pattern, a Pueblo structure and a skyscraper, most likely Chicago’s Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower).  Particularly disturbing are the depictions of a faceless Statue of Liberty and a faceless Pueblo woman.  The artist’s words with regard to Restoration/Underground are quite interesting: “Our lives are constantly being exposed to media, technology and a fast moving world.  The skyscraper represents technology and our human achievements.  The statue towers over the piece as a reminder of a government ruled society.  The Native imagery . . . is a reminder of how life used to be and how so much old world  knowledge was lost but still remains in all of us today, Native or non-Native alike.”

Restoration/Underground by Jarrod Da, San Ilsefonso, soft pastel drawing, 26“x40“ (2009).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

I am always dazzled by Eliza Naranjo-Morse’s work.  She is constantly experimenting and her willingness to take chances is exhilarating.  Her work exudes an exuberance that is infectious.  The viewer can’t help but be caught up in the artist’s pleasure in the very act of creation.  She is someone who clearly enjoys making art. 

Obviously inspired by a simple snowfall, Snow Study is not merely a record of a natural phenomenon.  Instead, the artist allowed her imagination to roam freely, resulting in a fascinating work of art that is an exploration of shape and color as well as texture since the artist has chosen to sew a border around the drawing.  According to Naranjo-Morse, Snow Study is an experiment with sewing paper on a machine, which she has done before but is still working out.  Such drawings are, in a very real sense, studies for projected larger works.  They are improvisations that allow the artist to create freely from deep within.  Of this process Naranjo-Morse said, “It reminds me of being little and spinning around with your arms out and then everything you see from 360 degrees is blurring and melting into each other and the feeling is fantastic, right? This part of my art works in the same way.  Everything is informing me and everything is loosing its original shape or meaning.”  According to the artist, Snow Study was a “sort of private sketch experiment” that she intended to keep to herself but that sort of “snuck out.”  I’m certainly glad it did.   

Snow Study by Eliza Naranjo Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, gesso, gold leaf an thread on butcher paper, 21” x 35” (2010). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            When I first saw works from Eliza Naranjo-Morse’s Deer in the Dirt Series I was intrigued but a bit stunned.  “Whatever could these mean?” I thought.  Being someone who collects from intuition rather than intellect, ultimately it didn’t matter.  I bought all three works that were available and figured I’d ask questions later since I felt they were very special creations.  My first impression (totally wrong) was that they had something to do with violence.  The reason for this mistake was that the pastel chalk drawing Deer in the Dirt has cut outs and, in order for the largest (representing water) to be protected in shipping, fuchsia tissue paper was inserted under it.  The color is very misleading.  Curious as to what inspired such a work and the subsequent editioned stencil I contacted Eliza Naranjo-Morse about it and was quite surprised at how far off the mark my interpretation had been. 

Deer in the Dirt by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, pastel chalk, spray paint on butcher paper, 51” x 24” (2010).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

According to the artist, she had taken a figure drawing class a few years ago and each student was asked to draw a portrait of him or herself in absolute happiness.  “I have always been averse to drawing myself even though I love to draw people, “commented Naranjo-Morse.  “I struggled with this, thinking that the exercise would be good for me.  Finally, I really thought of myself in happiness and drawing is a way I create my own happiness.    I hang out alone and make things and it's a lot of fun when it's easy and I don't pressure myself.  It seemed weird to me after thinking about that to make a portrait of myself that was a struggle.    A drawing of a deer with heavy scribble line and not much worry for accuracy came out.  The space as I see it is calm. The work as I see it is at peace.  I loved making it and I loved looking at it.  It was my creation of absolute happiness.   I ended up making a stencil out of it because I liked it and there it is!”

However, the figure, though recognizable as a deer, is not naturalistically rendered.  Its color, especially the red of its tongue, the tuft of hair on its head and the spots on its body are not realistic.  In addition, the image also looks somewhat like a photographic negative.  All these aspects combine to give the work a surreal quality.  In essence, then, the deer is an inner portrait of the artist. 

 Deer in the Dirt by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, Editioned Stencil, 5.0 spray paint on butcher paper, 38.5 x 24 (2010). 

Collection of E. J Guarino

 I acquired the stencil of Deer in the Dirt at the same time as the drawing.  I knew that, as a multiple, it was one in an edition.  However, the designation 5.0 was puzzling since usually with prints and other editioned multiples the number of works in the edition is given as well as the number of the individual piece within the edition such as 30/50, 6/15, etc.  This was something unusual so I contacted Andrea Hanley at the Berlin Gallery who contacted the artist.  Although with each subsequent stencil Deer in the Dirt  was changing in focus it was still essentially the same image so Eliza Naranjo-Morse conceived the idea of tracking the works much the same way as if they were a product such as an iPhone which might be branded iPhone 4, iPhone 3G, etc.  In essence, each stencil becomes an “artist proof.”     

Deer from the Future by Eliza Naranjo-Morse, Santa Clara Pueblo, spray paint, pastel chalk and acrylic paint, 24” x 24” (2010). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Deer in the Dirt (drawing and stencils) and Deer from the Future are what Naranjo-Morse has termed her “first resolved series of work.”  The artist feels she is finally understanding her esthetic and enjoying the various techniques she has learned and, at last, feels comfortable enough to use.  According to the artist, at first the stencils were really hard to make.  She commented that since she already knew what they were going to look like the excitement was gone.  Furthermore, the process of stenciling is somewhat methodical.  At the time Naranjo-Morse was involved with creating large paintings and said that she saw making the time consuming stencils as an obstacle.  Finally, one day she decided to employ spray painting and felt that with that choice she had left every rule behind. She realized that there really weren’t any hard and fast rules with regard to stencils and that she could make, break and reinvent them.  It was then that she started to look at the process and material of stenciling in a completely new way.  As with the drawing, the artist sees the white deer stencils as calm and blessed, full of a place in herself that was giving.  When asked about Deer from the Future, Naranjo-Morse humorously responded that she sees it as a hybrid because her understanding of stencil making moved ahead so quickly from the previous sets of stencils that this one was from the future!  

            Although Pueblo works on paper are a relatively new interest for me I am passionate about collecting them because I feel that the pieces I have acquired are important works of art.  A major consideration when new works are added is how they will relate to those artworks already in the collection.  I believe Pueblo graphics fit in beautifully since the ultimate purpose of my collection is to educate all who see it about the depth, breath and diversity of Native art.  Pueblo works on paper are generally not considered “traditional.”  To me, that’s the point.  Native artists have always been innovative, adaptive and willing to do the unexpected.  As a collector it is very exciting for me to watch this new area of Native creativity unfolding.  

For more information on Pueblo graphics see the following:

“New Directions: Pueblo Printmaking,” July 2008 (Diego Romero and Virgil Ortiz)

“Dark Shadows: Controversial Themes in Native Art,” October 2009 (Jason Garcia)

“The Naked Truth,” August 2009, and “Out There: Pushing the Boundaries of Native Art, March 2010 (Eliza Naranjo-Morse). 

PETROGLYPH NATIONAL MONUMENT REDUX

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            On a recent trip to Albuquerque I decided to make yet another excursion to Petroglyph National Monument.  No matter how many times I’ve visited I always discover something I haven’t seen before.  This time I decided that I would approach the petroglyphs in a way I had not done before - solely from an artistic perspective.  I would not speculate on what the markings meant or why they were made; I would simply respond to them as works of art.  I then chose to concentrate on Rinconada and Piedras Marcadas Canyons rather than the more popular Boca Negra Canyon or the Volcanoes section, which has few petroglyphs.

            Petroglyph National Monument contains over 20,000 anthropomorphic (human-like) and zoomorphic (animal-like) images as well as a dizzying array of abstract designs.  Some of the human images have full bodies that are round or square and often bear designs while others appear deceptively simple, resembling stick figures.

The anthropomorphic carvings also display a wide variety of heads, some attached to bodies, others not.  There is even one with arms and legs.  This “walking head” may seem bizarre, humorous or whimsical to the modern visitor but its creator’s original intention may have been quite different.

Some faces consist simply of eyes, nose and mouth but many are covered with designs that may represent paint or tattoos.  Each one is expressive in its own way.

Although these ancient visages are semi-abstract they do elicit a wide range of emotional and intellectual responses from the modern viewer.  I have yet to see any visitor walk by them impassively.  Everyone has an opinion and discussions among total strangers are not uncommon.  Such is the potency of this ancient art.     

            One figure in particular impressed me with its unique visual power.  With what are essentially just three lines the artist was able to suggest movement by having the end of each arm undulate, creating the impression that “the dancer” is holding ribbons or, perhaps, snakes.  If the image had been drawn on paper it would seem to have been dashed off with a few quick strokes rather than having been painstakingly chipped from basalt rock.  I was immediately caught up in the figure’s suggestion of fluid movement.  Such economy of expression would be the envy of many contemporary artists.

            The ancient rocks of what is today Petroglyph National Monument also bear the likenesses of what are instantly recognizable as snakes, turtles, birds and mammals, their essence captured with a minimal use of lines, in some cases only one.  Some birds, for example, have bodies that were formed by the artist completely chipping away the rock, producing a squat effect suggestive of quail or ducks.  Others, consisting of a few thin lines unmistakably depict cranes.  In quite a number of cases, the creatures are simply and clearly suggested by tracks.       

            In a similar way, humans are suggested by “handprints” that are placed on rocks at various angles and in clusters consisting of a few to many.  Taken as a whole, each group forms a pattern that is at once arresting and pleasing to the eye.  One cannot help but respond, knowing that an artist, a fellow human, placed his hand upon the stone and pecked around it to form an outline and then continued working to create the impression of a solid hand.  A single handprint may simply signify “I was here,” but multiples of the image take on a strange beauty that is mesmerizing.  

As interesting as the anthropomorphic and zoomorphic images are, the abstract designs are even more fascinating.  There are spirals, designs consisting of a series of dots that are reminiscent of a board for Chinese checkers and others that look strikingly similar to blankets.    

            Many of the designs resemble those found on textiles, baskets and pottery produced by the ancient Sinagua, Hohokam, Mimbres, and Ancestral Puebloan cultures of the Southwest and also parallel motifs found in the Casas Grande culture centered at Paquimé in the modern Mexican state of Chihuahua as well as in other Mesoamerican cultures such as the Toltec, Maya, and Teotihuacán.  The “blanket designs” look very much like those found on Navajo textiles.  Interestingly, the vast majority of rock art at Petroglyph National Monument dates to between 1300 and 1600 AD, the same period in which the Navajo entered the Southwest.  Many of the other images and patterns found on the rocks are still in use by contemporary Native American ceramic artists. 

            A number of large boulders in the monument have broken off from the escarpment in such a way that they form “panels.”   Many of these have been decorated with large and diverse groupings of petroglyphs, creating what are, in essence, galleries of rock art.  Seen together, the haunting, mysterious quality of the petroglyphs is heightened. 

            Whether the work of one person’s creative vision or produced by a series of artists over years, decades or even centuries is unknown but, the designs, figures and symbols always form a pleasing visual composition.  If the panels are the work of consecutive artists leaving their mark, it is obvious that each image was placed with careful thought as to its relationship with others on the panel.  

            Covered with human figures, heads, handprints, birds, turtles, serpents, bears, long horned sheep, handprints, animal tracks, suns, stars, weird human-animal combinations and enigmatic abstract designs, the large boulders create the impression of a world teeming with life.  Like oversized canvases some of the rock art panels create a space that envelops the viewer.  Some force you to look up since they are high up on the sides of the mesas; others are directly at eye level; and many are at one’s feet.  Because the petroglyphs can be in any direction, visitors become engaged in “finding” the art. The fact that these art works stand in nature where they were created should not be underestimated.  The desert and the rugged rock strewn mesas give them a sense of immediacy and timelessness.  In such an environment the artist’s presence is palpable.   While it is difficult to view any type of art and not wonder what it means, with rock art you are also confronted with the fact that the artist once stood in the place you now occupy to see it. 

Ultimately, I realized that it is impossible for the modern visitor to see petroglyphs purely as art because they are so mysterious and raise so many unanswerable questions.  Though their purpose was surely as diverse and complex as art from any other culture or time period, their meanings remain frustratingly elusive.  However, it is impossible to resist the desire to know more.                

            At the very end of the trail through Piedras Marcadas Canyon there is a rock that is important for historical reasons rather than for it’s artistic merit.  Carved with a simple cross and the date 1541, it is a subtle but powerful reminder of the sweeping changes that came to the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of the Southwest. 

            Petroglyph National Monument is not simply another national park; it is unique because all of the landscape contained within its borders is hollowed ground and it is the only unit in our National Park System dedicated to protecting and preserving petroglyphs.  Like all rock art sites, it should be viewed as holy site as well as an art museum comparable to European churches that, though filled with priceless works of art, are first and foremost spiritual places.  Walking on the petroglyphs can damage or destroy them; touching them can do the same since our perspiration contains salt and our hands leave behind harmful oils that cause the images to fade.  Taking rubbings, often mistakenly considered harmless, is also forbidden by park regulations.  Petroglyphs should be treated with the utmost respect not only because they are sacred works of art but also because they are fragile and irreplaceable. 

(Photographs by Jeffrey VanDyke)

 For more information on Petroglyph National Monument see “Pecks in Time” (May 2008) in the list of King Galleries web site articles. 

 DIRECTIONS: From downtown Albuquerque take I-40 west to the Unser Blvd exit (#154); go north three miles to Western Trail; turn left and follow signs to the visitor center where you will find information on the monuments units.  

NOTE: To learn more about petroglyphs (images pecked or caved on a rock surface) and pictographs (images painted on rock), contact the Colorado Rock Art Association at Colorado State University in Fort Collins (www.coloradorockart.org) or the Rock Art Foundation (www.rockart.org).

NATURE OBSERVED:  Animals in Native Art

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Native people have always had a special relationship with the natural world.  Animals, in particular, are seen as fellow beings with which they share the planet and its resources.  For thousands of years, animals have provided food as well as materials for tools, clothing and shelter.  Many indigenous groups believe that people can transform into animals and that animals can take human form.  Native people do not view other creatures merely as “dumb beasts” but see them as fellow sentient beings that frequently use their gifts to aid humans.   Often, Native people feel so connected to the animal kingdom that they look upon many species almost as if they were simply another race with some being referred to as “nations.”  Many animals are so highly revered that they are referred to in familial terms such as “mother,” “father,” “brother,” etc.  In countless Native stories throughout the Western Hemisphere animals are personified and play an important role in art and culture.  From Coyote of the American Southwest or Raven of the Pacific Northwest Coast (both tricksters) to Turtle of the Northeast who carries the world on his back in Iroquois myth, scores of creatures have delighted, frightened, and taught lessons to Native people.   

            Although I can definitely be described as an “animal lover” artworks depicting them generally do not appeal to me perhaps because they are usually overly sentimental.  However, in going through my collection I realized that it did, in fact, include quite a number of pieces portraying a wide variety of creatures.  I began to wonder what it was about these particular depictions that attracted me.  Generally, I am drawn to portrayals of animals that are in someway bold.  Usually, I avoid those that are “photo-realistic” in quality, preferring ones that capture an animal’s essence.  I also like images in which a creature is in someway stylized or is more than simply representational.          

Polychrome olla with twelve parrots, artist unknown, Acoma, 9”h x 11”w (c. 1930)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            One of my favorite pieces in my collection is an olla with twelve parrots drawn on it.  It took close to three years to pay for it on layaway but I knew that it was very special.  Surrounded by geometric designs, none of the birds are quite alike.  Drawn in a unique style, these creatures delight the eye.  The pot reflects the importance of parrots in Native culture since ancient times.  There were even cities, such as Paquimé in northern Mexico, which specialized in breading these birds for commercial purposes.  These tropical birds, as well as their feathers, were traded as far north as the Pueblos of New Mexico and beyond where their brightly colored plumage played an important part in ceremonials.      

Pot with deer and turkey images by Gloria Gachupin, Zia, 9“ x 9“ (c. 1995)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Another favorite, though far less costly, is a pot by Gloria Gachupin.  While traveling in New Mexico, I decided to visit Zia Pueblo where I stopped in at the Governor’s Office and asked where I could buy pottery.  I was directed to Ms. Gachupin’s home and, when I knocked on her door, she graciously invited me in.  A number of pots were pulled from here and there but one immediately caught my eye.  On it were a turkey and a deer, both of which were charmingly rendered.  I bought it on the spot.  Not only is the pot pleasing to look at, it reflects the importance of the two animals portrayed on it as food sources for Pueblo people.    

One of my more recent acquisitions reveals how Native culture may view a creature very differently from how it is seen by mainstream culture.  Thanks to novels, movies and TV, bats, for example, are generally associated with the forces of evil.  When most people think of these winged mammals, Dracula usually comes to mind.  Other creatures such as spiders and snakes are also viewed negatively but such is not the case in Native culture.  Every animal has a purpose.

Polychrome seed pot with two bats by Lois Gutierrez de la Cruz, Santa Clara/Pojoaque; natural clay slips,

4.5”w x 3.75”h (2009) Collection of E. J. Guarino

The seed pot in my collection by Lois Gutierrez de la Cruz does not portray bats as vile creatures.  Rendered for the most part realistically, they amuse more than frighten, their faces almost seeming to smile.  Painted in muted tones of brown, the bats seem to swoop around the pot and also create at design where their wings come together at the opening.  Some species of bats keep insect populations in check while others pollinate plants, two very important functions.  Since they are often seen leaving or entering caves many Native groups associate bats with the Underworld, regarding them as messengers between our world and the spiritual realm.   

Native artists are keen observers of Nature and take great delight in incorporating a wide variety of fauna in their creations.  Scores of creatures of the air, land and water have always made an appearance in Native art.

Bowl by Robert Tenorio, Santo Domingo,

Exterior: black and white geometric designs; Interior: four fishes and a turtle, 6”h x 11” in diameter (2006)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Robert Tenorio, a master potter from Santo Domingo Pueblo, often incorporates a variety of animal images into his work.  I had wanted a piece by this artist for a number of years but every time I found one I liked it was usually already sold.  Finally, while visiting Albuquerque in 2006, I saw a bowl by Tenorio that I thought would be a perfect addition to my collection.  The exterior of the bowl is covered with geometric patterns but its bold interior has four fish, each with different abstract patterns, swimming around a stylized turtle.  The piece is at once striking and charming and makes an interesting contrast to an older Santo Domingo dough bowl in my collection whose exterior also has geometric designs but has an undecorated interior. 

Often I have an idea in my head of what kind of piece I want by a particular artist.  In the case of LuAnn Tafoya, it was one of her large pots for which she is most noted.  As is often the case with my collecting, what I wished for and what I eventually acquired were quite different.  As soon as I saw a long necked jar by this artist I knew that it was a very special piece.  It is visually elegant and I was struck by the image of an avanyu carved in deep relief around the base of the jar.  The avanyu, or water serpent, is a very important image that has been used since ancient times and is found throughout Mesoamerica and the American Southwest.  This creature symbolizes many things: lightening, water, rain, fertility and rebirth.  While snakes in Western culture represent evil, Native cultures take a more nuanced view of this reptile.  Like everything in the cosmos, it embodies duality – nothing is pure good or pure evil.        

Black long neck jar with carved avanyu by LuAnn Tafoya, Santa Clara, 5 ½”w x11¼”h (2009)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

 Perhaps because they have their eyes in the front of their head as we do, we tend to invest owls with special powers, not that they need any help from us.  They have exceptional sight and hearing and can turn their head 270 degrees.  This, combined with the fact that their flight is all but silent, makes them excellent predators.  In many cultures, they are symbols of wisdom perhaps because their face has such a human quality.  Because they are active in the evening and because of the mournful sounds they make, they are also often associated with death as they are among the Iroquois.

Beaded purse, artist unknown, Iroquois,

floral designs with owl on one side and “Remember Me” on the opposite side;

clear, red, yellow, orange, and black beads on blue cloth, 9 5/8” x 6 3/8” excluding handle and fringe (c. 1880s)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

A few years ago, I was offered an Iroquois purse that I knew was unique.  Most, if not all, purses and pouches made by the Iroquois at the turn of the last century were made to be sold to White tourists at places like Niagara Falls.  Some have dates, some animals, others floral or geometric designs.  Generally, they are rather “cheery.”  The piece presented to me was something else again.  Referred to as a “mourning purse” by the dealer, it has the image of an owl (symbolizing death) on one side and the words “Remember Me” on the other side.  It did not seem generic to me.  If fact, it was probably quite specific and possibly commissioned.  It is one of the treasures of my collection. 

Another piece I enjoy looking at is a basket with the image of a tortoise.  Made by an unknown Tohono O’odam artist it reflects this group’s connection to their desert home.  In fact, I have a number of Tohono O’odam baskets in my collection that depict desert creatures, one with a centipede and another with lizard and coyote track designs.  

Basket with tortoise design, artist unknown, Tohono O’odam (Papago), 7½” diameter   (ca. 1991)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

             The Inuit, who live in the Arctic, also have a close relationship with the Natural world.  Although these once nomadic people now live in permanent settlements, animals play an important role in their life and in their art.

            One of the earliest Inuit prints, an untitled work by Kenojuak Ashevak, for example, shows an owl, another bird (probably a loon) and what appears to be an Arctic fox.  However, the artist includes a “walking head,” a strange being from Inuit lore, giving the work a surreal quality.

Untitled work by Kenojuak Ashevak, etching, ed. 22/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset;

Paper size: 12”h x 17½”w; Plate size: 8½”h x 11¼”w,

Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection #30 (1962) Collection of E. J. Guarino

            A number of the artist’s early works have a surrealistic edge to them.  However, it is Kenojuak’s depictions of Arctic birds, usually portrayed with fantastical feathers, which have brought her fame.  These works are highly sought after by museums and collectors and one of these images was even used for a Canadian postage stamp. 

            Initially, I was more attracted to other aspects of Kenojuak’s graphic art than to her famous birds.  However, I finally came to appreciate them and felt that the collection should have at least one example of a Kenojuak bird.  I saw a print that I liked in the 2008 Cape Dorset Print Collection but Elaine Blechman, the mentor for the Inuit part of my collection and owner of the Arctic Artistry Gallery, told me “That’s not the one.”  I trusted her judgment and expertise but I was on pins and needles because I would have to wait another year for a chance at a bird by Kenojuak and there was no guarantee that, even then, I would find “the one.”  Sure enough, in the fall of 2009 Elaine showed me Long Necked Loon and we both agreed that this was the piece to add to the collection.       

Long Necked Loon by Kenojuak Ashevak, lithograph; Printer: Pitseolak Niviaqsi, 36/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset,

30”h x 41.5”w, Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection # 16 (2008)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Lucy Qinnuayuak is another Cape Dorset artist who is best known for her images of bird life.  However, the drawing I chose by her was of a bear, making it a rare work.   This piece was the first Inuit graphic I acquired that portrayed an animal.  I was drawn to the piece because the bear is so charming and because the animal’s fur is clearly depicted.  At the time, Pat Feheley of Feheley Fine Arts in Toronto cautioned me about the fugitive nature of Pentel but I had to admit that I had never hard that word before.  When it was explained that Pentel was another word for Magic Marker things began to become clear.  Works using this technique can fade over time.  However, more importantly, if stored with other works on paper they could “bleed up” and “bleed down” thus damaging or destroying other prints and drawings.  As it turned out the Pentel used in the Qinnuayak piece is of a more stable nature but, nonetheless, I keep a thick barrier between Walking Bear and my other graphics stored in the same archival box.  I’ve never regretted acquiring the drawing and it still brings a smile to my face whenever I see it.

Walking Bear by Lucy Qinnuauak, Pentel drawing, Inuit, Cape Dorset, 20” x 26” (1976/77)

Colledtion of E. J. Guarino

            Fish, especially salmon, have played an important part in the lives of Native people living in the far north, including the Inuit.  In Nineteen Fish Janet Kigusiuq combines representation and abstraction in a way that not only documents one aspect of Inuit life but also creates a visually striking work of art.  The salmon are delightfully drawn, the water is a lovely shade of blue and the shoreline is depicted as soft shapes in muted colors.  The fish are swimming towards a lighter area, indicating that they are swimming upstream.  This is an important part of their lifecycle and one which is a time of abundance for human and animal alike since at this time the fish are easily caught.

Nineteen Fish by Janet Kigusiuq, colored pencil, Inuit, Baker Lake, 22¾” x 30¼” (1999)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

 Noted for her highly detailed prints, Pitaloosie Saila’s work has been represented over the years in many Cape Dorset Annual Print Collections.  Although Pitaloosie is not noted for her depictions of Arctic wildlife when I saw her print Lost I was immediately taken by the work’s haunting quality.  Although the piece is representational, there is clearly something more going on.  The image takes on an almost surreal quality since the artist chose to employ only three colors – grey, white and blue – and the animal, the ubiquitous Arctic fox, seems frail, almost dazed.  The expression on the creature’s face epitomizes pathos.  The viewer is drawn in and wonders what exactly is going on.  How can an animal be lost?  If it is, what brought it to this state?  This is not the usual benign image of Arctic wildlife.  Lost functions on a much deeper level than merely recording Nature and it is left up to us to ponder its meaning. 

Lost by Pitaloosie Saila, lithograph, Printer: Pitseolak Niviaqsi; 20/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset, 22” x 30,”

Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection #7 (2007)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

 One of the most delightful Inuit prints in my collection is one I initially had no interest in acquiring.  I first saw Auvviq (Caterpillar) by Ningeokuluk Teevee online and it held no appeal for me.  However, seeing the print in person made all the difference.  At a mere four inches by five inches, it is one of the smallest Inuit prints ever produced. 

Auvviq (Caterpillar) by Ningokuluk Teevee, lithograph, 8/30, Inuit, Cape Dorset,  

4”h x 5”w, Cape Dorset Spring Release #8 (20010)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

The small size of this work combined with the handling of the subject matter gives the work charm and whimsy.  The caterpillar, shown not much bigger than life size, is a creature most might overlook.  However, the artist, who is known for her humor and inventiveness, uses the dimensions of the print to draw the viewer closer to consider this most marvelous of creatures which will transform into a butterfly. 

One of the pleasures of collecting Native art is that it is always filled with surprises.  In spite of my resistance to what can be described as “animal art,” there are quite a number of pieces in my collection that depict a diverse array of creatures: mammals, reptiles, amphibians, fish, and insects.  It turns out that the animal kingdom is well represented.  Critters, as one of my mentors liked to call them, have a special place in the collection because of the variety of interesting ways in which they are presented by Native artists and I’m sure that I will continue to acquire works with animals as their subject.    

WRITTEN IN STONE:  White Tank Mountain Regional Park (March 2011)

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            In spite of my many visits to Phoenix, it was only in the last few years that I became aware of White Tank Mountain Regional Park.  Since then I have hiked in the park three times.  The largest regional park in the country, White Tank encompasses over 29,000 acres of desert and mountain landscape and is only about an hour’s drive from Phoenix/Scottsdale.  In addition to spectacular scenery, the park contains hundreds of examples of ancient Native American rock art, many of which are over 1,000 years old. 

            From prehistoric times to early in the last century Native Americans were drawn to the White Tank area by a reliable year round source of water concentrated in tinajas, or “tanks,” a series of rock depressions, located in the larger canyons.  Rain water collected in these natural catchments and, combined with nearby streams, allowed humans to exploit an otherwise arid landscape.  Archaeologists have discovered the remains of several sizeable villages as well as evidence of temporary habitation by hunter-gatherers.

            In the course of seven thousand years the White Tank area was home to three Native American groups.  The earliest inhabitants, who have been given the name Archaic People, occupied the canyons from 5,000 B.C. to 300 A.D.  According to the archaeological record, the Hohokam appeared about 100 A.D. and remained into the 1200s, although their culture survived in the area around present-day Phoenix until 1450.  After the Holokam abandoned their villages there is no indication of a human presence until the Western Yavapai entered the region in the 1700s and utilized it until the early 1900s.  Each culture left its mark on the area’s rocks.  

            Of the eleven village sites that have been identified in the park, the Hohokam built seven.  One of the Southwest’s major ancient cultures, the Hohokam are noted for their platform mounds, complex systems of irrigation canals that moved water from where it was to where it was needed, sophisticated jewelry, and beautiful pottery.  The Hohokam also had extensive trade routes which stretched to the California coast, West Central Mexico and, perhaps, even far south into Mesoamerica. 

            In addition to growing cotton for clothing, the Hohokam cultivated edible crops such as corn and several varieties of beans and squash.  They gathered other foodstuffs such as weeds as well as the fruit of saguaro, prickly pear and other cacti and hunted deer, rabbit, a wide range of birds, and possibly mountain sheep and antelope. 

            The origins of the Hohokam, however, are unclear.  There are indications that they may have migrated from Mexico since, like a number of Mesoamerican cultures, the Hohokam built ball courts.  However, this may simply indicate a Mexican influence rather than a Mexican origin. 

            It is also possible that the Hohokam culture evolved from the earlier nomadic Archaic People as they developed farming, irrigation, and construction techniques that allowed them to remain in one place.  The archaeological record clearly shows, for example, that Archaic humans were extremely adaptable, able to change their diet based on the availability of seasonal foods and to respond to a variety of geographic and climatic conditions. 

            The end of the Hohokam culture is equally mysterious.  Although it is often said that the Hohokam vanished (Hohokam is a derivation of the O’odam word huhugam, meaning “those who are gone”) such is not the case.  It seems more likely that the Hohokam dispersed to other areas when their way of life could no longer be sustained.  The reasons for this collapse are still being investigated.  However, two modern tribes – the Tohono O’odam and the Akimel O’odam – say that they are descended from the Hohokam and many scholars believe their claim to be true.

            Five hundred years after the Hohokam left the canyons of White Tank the Western Yavapai, also known as the Tolkepaya, arrived.  They most probably used the area on a seasonal basis since they were mainly hunter-gathers who migrated to take advantage of ripening edible plants.  They erected simple shelters such as lean-tos without walls or closed huts depending on the time of year.  When food sources in one area were exhausted the Yavapai moved on, returning the following year.  In the late 1800s and early 1900s the Western Yavapai were forced to live on reservations.  

            Today the petroglyphs pecked into rocks are the most obvious indication that humans once lived in what is now White Tank Mountain Regional Park.  Archaeologists have defined two main petroglyph styles within the park: the Archaic and the Hohokam.  The rock art of the Archaic period is abstract with curving lines while the petroglyphs produced by the Hohokam can be either abstract or representational, incorporating geometric designs and symbols as well as figures of humans and animals.

Bird petroglyph

            Petroglyphs are not simply random markings.  It took considerable time and concentrated effort to produce them.  Clearly, they had significance to their creators.  Although to modern eyes the imagery may seem bizarre, mysterious or even mystical, their original meanings continue to elude us.  We can make educated guesses and infer what a specific figure or design might represent but we may never understand them completely since the petroglyphs were made for a variety of reasons and each one may have multiple meanings depending on their location and their relationship to other nearby symbols. 

            Recording events, controlling nature, such as weather and game animals, and marking water sources or trails are thought to be among the reasons the petroglyphs were created.  Some appear to represent sacred beings and religious concepts; others strongly suggest familiarity with the movements of heavenly bodies; and a number may indicate the migrations of a particular clan or group. 

The desert in the area of White Tank Regional Park

            When they first entered the area some time around 1540, some of the Spanish carved their initials into the canyon’s rocks, possibly in imitation of the rock markings they saw. 

            Of the park’s ten trails, one is best for seeing an abundance of petroglyphs.  Waterfall Canyon Trail is two-miles round trip and leads to a high concentration of the carvings in an area designated “Petroglyph Plaza” and a waterfall at the end of the box canyon.  (Unfortunately, just before reaching the falls there is striking evidence that some modern visitors felt compelled to carve their own markings into the rocks, thus vandalizing some of the rock art.)

            Many artists, both Native and non-Native have been influenced by rock art.  Harry Fonseca, for example, (Niseman Maidu/Hawaiian/Portuguese) briefly worked with images inspired by petrogyphs he saw in California.  In 1985 he returned to this theme with his “Stone Poem” series, petroglyph-inspired paintings done on unstretched canvas.  Also, Les Namingha (Hopi-Tewa/Zuni) has recently used imagery inspired by rock art on his pottery.    

            Although petroglyphs are fascinating they are extremely fragile and easily damaged and should not be touched.  They also have spiritual significance to Native Americans and should be given the same respect accorded any other sacred art.

Looking at petroglyphs is an amazing experience, especially since it is a journey of discovery.  Unlike museums where the art is arranged for easy viewing, rock art requires more effort since some petroglyphs are out in the open while others are more hidden away.  As with other rock art sites, each visit to White Tank Mountain Regional Park reveals something new.

(Photographs by Jeffrey Van Dyke)

White Tank Regional Park is open 365 days a year. Hours are Sunday through Thursday from 6:00 AM to 8:00 PM and Friday and Saturday from 6:00 AM to 10:00 PM.  Hikes in the park are not recommended for the warmer months.  Sufficient water, snacks, insect repellant and sturdy shoes that cover your feet, not flip-flops, are essential.   

DIRECTIONS: From Phoenix/Scottsdale take I-10 west to 303 north.  Turn left at Olive Avenue, which goes into the park.  At the entrance there is a self-pay station requiring an exact fee of $6.00.  I you don’t have the correct amount drive on to the visitor center. 

FOR MORE INFORMATION: www.maricopa.gov/parks/white%5Ftank

 NOTE: To learn more about petroglyphs (images pecked or caved on a rock surface) and pictographs (images painted on rock), contact the Colorado Rock Art Association at Colorado State University in Fort Collins (www.coloradorockart.org) or the Rock Art Foundation (www.rockart.org).

The Evolution of a Collector:  My Life in Art (February 2011)

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Whenever I speak about Native art I am invariably asked how I became a collector.  To be honest, until fairly recently I never gave it much thought since, as far as I was concerned, it was something that just sort of happened.  More precisely, it was a slow but steady evolution that took place over the course of many years and continues to this day. 

My first memory of seeing Native art was as a small child with my father in the early 1950s at the Iroquois Museum that, at that time, was housed in the Old Stone Fort in Schoharie, New York.  The materials were, of course, presented ethnographically but I distinctly remember being fascinated by them because they were so different from my own Italian-American background.  Throughout elementary school, high school, college and graduate school there was little if any mention of Native people except with regard to Christopher Columbus and the Spanish Conquest.  The only images I saw of Native peoples were negative ones in stereotypical Hollywood movies.  It was only much later that I began to educate myself about New World people and their cultures through my own reading and travels.  It became a quest as I traveled over the years from Alaska to South America with a particular emphasis on the American Southwest and Mexico.  I felt I had a lot of ground to cover and not enough time to do it in.  I wondered why I hadn’t been taught about Native cultures and their diverse art forms and suspected that, nation wide, our educational system, in general, had given Native people short shrift.

            Living in the New York Metropolitan area I thought I could find a college or university that offered courses on New World Native cultures but even in the 1980s they didn’t exist.  Instead, I attended auctions and powwows in Upstate New York where I bought some of the first pieces of pottery for what was to become a collection.  One of the first pieces bought at a powwow at Hunter Mountain was a pot by Josephine Garcia.  The collection has changed a great deal since that early purchase but I still enjoy the pot.  However, I now realize that it is neither well polished nor as well formed as subsequent ceramics I acquired.      

Black-on-white pot by Josephine Garcia, Acoma, 7½”h x 8”w (c. 1980s)

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center, Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2008.

One day I wandered into Common Ground, a now defunct shop in Greenwich Village that sold Native American art, and asked how I could learn more about Native American pottery, which had quickly caught my interest and became my first love.  I was promptly handed a copy of American Indian Art magazine.  As I read I quickly came across an advertisement for Speaks of the Earth, which I contacted.  The owner, Betty Johnston, ran her business from her home and the first piece from her was purchased for me as a birthday gift.  I had been looking for a pot by Lucy Lewis but since Betty had none at the time she suggested a gorgeous olla by Emma Chino and with it my collection immediately went up a notch.  For more than twenty years Betty would send me photographs (this was before the Internet) of pieces she thought would interest me and I would pick out what I wanted and put the pots on layaway.  Some took a year to pay off and one even took three years.  Betty was my collection’s first mentor and is a dear friend who guided me to collect pieces that were traditionally made.  For a long time I was obsessed with Acoma pottery and try as she might Betty couldn’t convince me to broaden my collection to other pueblos.  As a result I passed up works by such artists as Lonnie Vigil, Maria Martinez, and Rondina Huma. 

Black-on-white olla by Emma Chino, Acoma, 11” x 10” (circa early 1980s)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            However, I came to realize that even great collectors could make mistakes.  Duncan Phillips, art critic and founder of the famed Phillips Collection, called Cezanne and Van Gogh “unbalanced fanatics,” Gauguin “half savage,” Picasso and the Cubists “ridiculous,” and Matisse “poisonous” and “depraved.”  Of course, Mr. Phillips later reversed such opinions. 

            Fortunately for me a number of influences helped me to broaden my outlook on Native art and I was eventually able to add work to my collection by Lonnie Vigil, Susan Folwell, and Virgil Ortiz.   

In 1993 I made my first trip to Alaska and British Columbia and bought my first piece of Inuit art, a sculpture by Elisapee Ishulutaq.  I was hooked.  I realized that I knew nothing about Inuit art and culture and, as usual, this became another aspect of my quest to learn more.  On that first trip I saw many carvings (I had not yet encountered Inuit graphics) but I bought the Ishulutaq piece because I thought it fit in with what I considered the “primitive” nature of my collection.

Standing Man by Elisapee Ishulutaq, Inuit, Pangnirtung, whale bone, 8½” tall (circa mid 1970s)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

On my second visit to Alaska in 1994 I bought a traditional Nunivak spirit mask. The mask, consisting of a carved wooden musk ox head, two concentric wooden rings and appendages, represents the world of the musk ox, an animal introduced to Nunivak Island in the 1930s.  The inner wooden circle symbolizes the earth, the outer one the heavens while the feathers and carved fish are indicative of the animal’s island environment.  Like the small whalebone sculpture I had collected the year before I though it was a wonderful example of primitive art that would was perfect for my collection.      

Musk ox spirit mask, artist unknown (but possibly Andrew Noatak), Nunivak Island, Alaska, wood, paint, feathers, ivory, ex Lowery collection, 21” x 15” including carved wooden appendages

 (Circa 1975) 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

For years I collected from an outdated ethnographic perspective since that was the model I saw in museums.  The heart of the collection was pottery but I also bought baskets, beadwork or anything else that caught my eye at auctions or on my travels.  The turning point in my collecting was seeing “Changing Hands: Art without Reservation I &II,” two groundbreaking exhibitions in 2002 and 2006 at the Museum of Art and Design (formerly the American Craft Museum) in Manhattan.  Afterward I immediately started to seek out edgy contemporary Native art and my collecting has moved from conservative to outright wild.     

By the time of my third trip to Alaska I was already under the influence of “Changing Hands” so I was very much open to an exhibit of contemporary Native art at the Anchorage Museum of History and Art that included sculptures by Susie Silook.  Silook’s work was something completely new to me.  Mostly portraying the female form, she addresses social issues such the effects of assimilation, Christianity and the abuse of Native women from a female perspective.  The sculptures are informed by the artist’s personal experiences, Inuit and Yup’ik culture as well as by European, African and Asian influences.  Although Silook works mostly in walrus ivory, using an entire tusk for each piece, she also sometimes produces wooden figures.  After discovering Susie Silook’s art I became a man on a mission.     

Yup’ik Woman with Inua by Susie Silook, Siberian Yup’ik/Inupiaq/Irish, cottonwood, walrus ivory, 19½” tall (2003)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

I was determined that if I could only add one new piece to my collection it would be by Susie Silook.  My plan was to acquire one of the artist’s iconic ivory sculptures but it didn’t turn out that way.  The first gallery I walked into had one of Silook’s wooden figures, which I thought amazing and I was pleasantly surprised by the affordable price.  When I inquired about that I was told that the artist had come into the gallery that day and had sold the piece for a low price because she needed money to go to Fairbanks.  When I asked if the piece had a title the staff member jokingly said “Susie Needs Gas Money to Drive to Fairbanks.”  However, the next day she phoned to say that she had learned from the artist that the actual title was Yup’ik Woman with Inua.  The sculpture has remained one of my favorite works in my collection.      

On that same trip I saw among the many traditional pieces for sale at the Hospital Auxiliary Craft Store in the Alaska Native Medical Center (one of the best places in Anchorage to buy Native art) a contemporary spirit mask by Jack Abraham.  Not only was the piece a unique modern take on a traditional form but also it made a wonderful counterpoint to the Nunavik spirit mask already in my collection.  As an educator, I always like to have comparison/contrast examples whenever possible since I believe it shows the continuity as well as evolution of Native art.

Nightmute (contemporary spirit mask) by Jack Abraham, Yup’ik Eskimo, Nelson Island, Alaska, wood, acrylic paint, feathers, 9”h x 5”w, excluding feathers (2003) 

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            I first became aware of Inuit works on paper during a trip to Toronto in the mid 1990s after my first two trips to Alaska.  I became obsessed with learning more about the art and cultures of Arctic peoples but, as with other collecting areas, I acquired works based on an ethnographic mindset.  I sought out prints and drawings that I thought would fit into my collection and viewed those I acquired as examples of primitive art.  One of the first prints I bought was an untitled work (Hunters and Animals) by Saggiak.   The work employs pre-contact imagery to portray “the old ways,” life as it was once lived on the land.  Such “traditional” scenes of hunting, fishing, and igloo building, coupled with a visual esthetic very different from Western conventions, was very appealing to me as it was to many collectors.  It was only much later, after re-evaluating the graphics in my collection that I came to realize that these works were quite sophisticated and that there were levels of meaning that I had missed.

Untitled (Hunters and Animals) by Saggiak, Inuit, Cape Dorset, engraving on paper, artist’s proof,

13¼” x 19 1/8” (1962) Collection of E. J. Guarino

For example, Mother and Children, a print produced by Pitseolak Ashoona in 1962, seems at first glance to be a portrait of a woman holding her two offspring but the title is misleading.  On closer inspection, the mother, whose mouth is twisted in what could be a smile or a scream, is struggling to hold on to her two children who appear to be only part human.  Their lower bodies are covered with fur, which may or may not be clothing.  There is a deliberate note of ambiguity in the imagery.  Is the work a representation of shamanic transformation or a wry comment on motherhood?  Perhaps it is both.  Adding to the surreal quality of the work is the fact that the figures seem to “float” on the page. 

Mother and Children by Pitseolak Ashoona, Inuit, Cape Dorset, engraving on paper, #40 31/50

Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection, 12 5/8” x 18 1/8” (1962)

E. J. Guarino Collection

Complicating my misconceptions about Inuit graphics was the fact that until recently the only early prints I had seen were black-and-white etchings and engravings.  This gave me a rather distorted view.  This changed when I saw and later acquired Animals Out of Darkness produced in 1961.  The use of color by artists just learning the possibilities of the print medium, which had only been introduced to Cape Dorset in the late 1950s, is stunning.  The animals emerge from darkness into light and each of the figures has a surreal rather than representational quality.  Clearly, this work is not “primitive” by any definition of the word.

Animals Out Of Darkness, signed Kenojuak Ashevak, but possibly the work of her husband Johnniebo Ashevak (1923-1972), Inuit, Cape Dorset, stonecut on paper, 5/50, 19½” x 21¾” (1961).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            The inventiveness and experimentation of Inuit artists, especially those from Cape Dorset, has propelled my evolution as a collector.  Rather than seek out works that are ethnographic examples of a culture, I now look for those that are important as art.  As a collector, it has been exciting to follow the careers of contemporary Inuit graphic artists.  Unlike the first generation, such as Kenojuak and Pitseolak, the third generation is keenly aware that they are artists and they owe a debt they to those who preceded them.

Recently, I acquired Tribute by Shuvinai Ashoona, one of Pitseolak’s granddaughters.  The print is fascinating on many levels.  It is visually arresting because of the sweep of the figure's arms, the face and the use of the color blue.  The piece is a self-portrait in which the artist has chosen to indicate that she "carries" what is essentially the history of modern Inuit graphics by placing on her clothing the names of promoters (James Houston, Terry Ryan, etc.), artists (Kananginak and Napatchie Pootoogook, etc.), gallery owners (Pat Feheley) and collectors (John Price) all of whom contributed to making Cape Dorset graphics what they are today.  Shuvinai is aware that she is where she is as an artist because of them.

Tribute by Shuvinai Ashoona, lithograph, 8/50, Inuit, Cape Dorset, 40.5”h x 30”w,

Cape Dorset Spring Release #4 (2010) Collection of E. J. Guarino

Tribute by Shuvinai Ashoona (detail)

Collecting is a journey that often requires adjusting one’s course.  For nearly half of the almost thirty years that I have been acquiring Native art I didn’t think of myself as a collector.  It was only when I realized that I owned one thousand artworks that I started to consider that I might, in fact, actually be a one.  Like most who find themselves in this position, it wasn’t planned.  I had started out buying objects I found interesting or beautiful to decorate my apartment.  As time went on I realized that I was buying from an educational, though ethnographic, perspective.  The problem wasn’t what I was buying but rather the reasons for buying it, which limited my understanding.  During that early period I was teaching film courses and a statement made by D. W. Griffith, the great silent film director, became my collecting inspiration: “The task I am trying to achieve is above all to make you see.”  Even though at the time very few people saw the art I owned, I wanted those who did view it to realize that this was, in fact, American art and I wanted them to appreciate a type of art that was often overlooked or dismissed as craft. 

            For a number of reasons I have been isolated from other collectors.  However, since I live so close to New York City I have always had access to a diverse range of art.  Over time this has allowed me to re-evaluate my collection and change direction whenever I feel it necessary.  Relatively free of the influence of other collectors, I have followed my own path, though now and then I do make a detour or two.  

TEEPEES OF STONE:  Tent Rocks National Monument (January 2011)

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Like so many other visitors to Santa Fe, after a while I need a break from the many museums, art galleries and crowds.  Coming from the East, I always want to see as much Native art as possible and, not wanting to miss a thing, I eventually become overwhelmed and need time to absorb all that I’ve experienced.  As a collector, I find it essential to see the art I collect in a broader context.  A place that allows me to do this is Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. 

What I remember most about Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is how the smell of pine perfumes the air, the broad vistas containing a landscape ranging from lunar to lush, and the low lying, sandy slot canyon that gives way to hillsides covered with ponderosa, piñon and juniper.  Hiking through the monument one cannot help but reflect on how environment has shaped and informed Native American art and culture.  For example, many of the colors visible in the landscape of Tent Rocks National Monument can be seen in the pottery filling Santa Fe’s museums and galleries. 

The varied Tent Rocks Monument landscape

  Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument takes its name from odd looking, cone-shaped volcanic formations that look remarkably like tents.  In the Keresan language of nearby Cochiti Pueblo they are called “kasha-katuwe” or “white cliffs.”  These unique natural structures are “hoodoos,” bizarre spires carved out of sandstone, mudstone and limestone by the forces of erosion and are most notably found at Bryce Canyon National Park. 

The famous tent rocks

Although signs of habitation are not obvious, Native Americans have lived in this environment for more than 4,000 years and by the 1300s Ancestral Puebloans had constructed a number of large villages in the area.  Their descendants, who live at Chochiti Pueblo, consider Kasha-Katuwe sacred. 

The tent rocks close up

Visiting Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is an experience that should not be rushed but rather savored.  There are three areas of interest that can fill most of a day: the Canyon Trail, the Cave Loop Trail and the Veteran’s Memorial Scenic Overlook.

If time is limited, the one thing that should not be missed is hiking the Canyon Trail which passes through a spectacular slot canyon and then ascends 630 feet to reveal incredible views of Cochiti Lake, the Rio Grande Valley and the Sangre de Cristo, Jemez and Sandia Mountains in the distance.  Sturdy shoes, sufficient water, snacks and insect repellant are essential.  Although the walk through the canyon is extremely beautiful it is not recommended for those who are claustrophobic since in some areas the walls are less than two feet wide.  Looking up on various points on the trail one sees towering trees, multi-colored bands of rock along the cliff face and the famed tent rocks.  The color and lines in the rock stratification would be the envy of any contemporary abstract artist.

Nature’s Abstraction

            With luck, a wide variety of animals – eagles, hawks, owls, swallows, wild turkeys, elk, mule deer, coyotes, ground squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks and lizards – might be spotted.

The canyon’s towering trees

The Canyon Trail is three miles round trip and involves a strenuous climb to the mesa top, which is well worth the effort.  Not far into the canyon at marker SC-9 there is a tall pine tree next to a large rock formation.  Just behind the tree are three petroglyphs – two serpents and a human hand – which most visitors never see.

Pine tree and rock formation that hide three petroglyphs

Serpent petroglyph

   The trail ends at Vista Point, reached via a small spit of land, a crossing not for the fainthearted or those with a fear of heights.  The spot is a great place to rest, have a snack and enjoy the unobstructed views of the surrounding countryside before making the reverse trip back down to the canyon and through it to the trailhead. 

Near the beginning of the slot canyon

Note: Do not hike the Canyon Trail if a thunderstorm is in the area since the canyon is prone to flash floods and lightening often strikes the mesa top.   

The slot canyon

For those who prefer a shorter, though definitely less spectacular hike, the Cave Loop Trail is only 1.2 miles long, relatively flat and considered easy.  It can be done as a leisurely walk and affords close-up views of some of the tent rocks and passes a cave used by Ancestral Puebloans.

            The mesa top’s lush vegetation

            Detached from the main part of the monument, the Veteran’s Memorial Scenic Overlook affords expansive views of Camada and Peralta Canyons, the Jemez Mountains as well as the Dome Wilderness.  Opened in 2004, the overlook is reached via a nine mile stretch of dirt road, most of which is very rough and filled with rocks and should be driven slowly and with extreme caution.

            Visiting Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument can be a contemplative experience.  The geology, vegetation and animals of the area offer much to think about but perhaps the most fascinating thing to consider is the adaptability and inventiveness of Native Americans who were able to flourish in such an environment.

Panoramic view at the summit of the Canyon Trail

Directions:  Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is thirty-five miles south of Santa Fe and fifty-two miles north of Albuquerque. 

            From Santa Fe: Take I-25 south to Exit 264 (Cochiti Pueblo).  Make a right  onto NM Route (SR) 16.  Follow signs to Cochiti Pueblo and Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks.From SR 16 turn right onto SR 22. 

            From Albuquerque: Take I-25 north to Exit 259 (Santo Domingo/Cochiti Lake Recreation Area) to NM Route (SR) 22.  Follow the signs to Cochiti Pueblo and Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks.  At the water tower, which is painted to resemble a drum, turn right onto Tribal Route 92 which connects to BLM Road 1011/FS266 to the monument.

         For more information go to the monument’s website which offers a downloadable brochure as well as excellent student trail guides for both the Canyon Trail and the Cave Loop Trail: http://www.blm.gov/nm/st/en/prog/recreation/rio_puerco/kasha_katuwe_tent_rocks.html

Driven to Abstraction (December 2010)

BY E. J. GUARINO 

When most people think of abstract art, works created in the 20^th century and in the current era usually come to mind.  However, Native artists have been abstracting natural forms for centuries – in pottery, beadwork, basketry, clothing designs and jewelry as well as rock art.

The Ancestral Puebloans, whose culture flourished from about 100 B.C. to around A. D. 1400, covered much of their pottery with abstract designs although they also created plain ware pieces.  However, it was their highly decorated pieces that were much sought after and widely traded.    

Ancestral Puebloan Tularosa black-on-white pitcher 6½” x 5¼” (c. 1100 A. D.)

Collection of E. J. Guarino

Although the Hohokam, who flourished between 200 B.C. and A. D. 1400, dug more than 500 miles of irrigation canals, some of which are still in use today, and constructed large platform mounds, it is their sophisticated jewelry and beautifully decorated pottery that resonates with collectors and museum visitors.  Although the Hohokam did create plain ware ceramics and those with representational designs, for many, those covered with complex abstract designs remain the most interesting.   

Hohokam gila shoulder pot, 2 1/8” x 2 ¾” (c. 500 – 1130 A. D.) Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Abstraction has continued to be an important part of the Pueblo ceramic tradition.  Hopi pots from different eras reveal how cultural and spiritual concepts are represented by abstract symbols.  Some designs are obvious – lightening, clouds, birds – but others require a bit more effort and even research to understand.  Nonetheless, the pottery speaks to us across time as well as cultures.  A number of years ago I came across an old Hopi pot for sale at the Museum of Northern Arizona that came with very little information, including the time frame of when it was created.  I could guess at what some of the designs represented but what was more important was that I thought the pot was simply beautiful.    

Polychrome pot, unsigned, Hopi, 3½” x 6½ “(c. 1910).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            A number of years later I had the opportunity to acquire a lovely, small pot by Nampeyo.  Again, I had no idea what the designs on the pot represented but it didn’t matter.  What’s wonderful about abstraction is that it can be appreciated simply for line, shape and color without regard to meaning. 

Often the only information a collector has about a piece is what he or she receives from a gallery or dealer.  When I discuss this aspect of collecting with students I tell them that sometimes a collector is given a great deal of information, sometimes very little and, in some cases, no information at all.  It is also possible to get misinformation.  I always figure that, as a collector, it is my job to acquire a piece and that it will be the responsibility of some future Vassar College student to do the research on it.

Polychrome jar with Sikyatki-style designs in black and red by Nampeyo,

5¼” x 4½” (c. 1920s – 1930s) Collection of E. J. Guarino

            I must admit that, early on, I was not a fan of abstract art which is odd since so much of the pottery I’ve collected is covered with imagery that is, more often than not, abstract rather than representational.  My tastes have certainly changed, however.  For example, I was immediately drawn to a pot by Les Namingha that is covered in abstract designs.  It is an extremely striking work and, although it draws on Hopi, Tewa and Zuni traditions, it clearly has a very modern look, something quite different from earlier pieces produced in the 20^th century.  Although the artist uses Native clays to form his pieces he often employs acrylic paints to decorate them, an element that is distinctly “non-Native,” and while the imagery he creates is usually traditional it often appears quite contemporary.    

Polychrome jar by Les Namingha, Hopi/Tewa and Zuni, 6” x 8½” (c. 2003-04).

Collecion of E. J. Guarino

            It might seem a bit bizarre to use the term “love at first sight” with regard to art but other collectors certainly understand the feeling of seeing a piece and thinking that it is so beautiful or unique that you just must have it.  That was the case when I came across a large pot by Helen Bird.  The piece was deceptively simple, decorated with geometric patterns and only three colors – black, off white and red.  However, it was the pot’s angularity combined with its abstraction that really caught my attention.  I was on a trip through the Southwest and by the time I saw the Helen Bird pot I had already spent my entire budget for art so I walked away.  However, things don’t work that easily.  The pot kept “calling” to me.  Dreaming about it that night clinched it for me and the next day I went back to the gallery and purchased the pot.  Although contemporary, it makes a very interesting contrast to other, older Santo Domingo pieces that have been in my collection for many years.  

Angular pot with geometric designs by Helen Bird, Santo Domingo Pueblo 8“h x 12“w (2007).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Considered one of the modern masters of Pueblo pottery, Dorothy Torivio is noted for pots that are usually referred to as “eye dazzlers” since their graphic quality is mesmerizing.  Reminiscent of  Op Art, Torivio’s pieces are a tour de force because the complex abstract designs, all drawn free hand, are not created on the flat surface of a canvas but must swirl around a three dimensional object while remaining balanced and visually arresting.  Torivio’s work is decorated with finely painted geometric patterns that are repeated over and over as they encircle or spiral up the neck of a piece.  She always uses the same number of repetitions regardless of the size her creation, adjusting their size accordingly.  Often called vases, according to the artist her pots are more accurately elongated or exaggerated seed pots.         

Black-on-white eye dazzler seed jar by Dorothy Torivio, Acoma, 4 3/8” x 6 1/8” (c. 2000).

Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Similarly, Mata Ortiz potter Carlos Loya often decorates his pots with fine line checkerboard patterns known as cuadritos.  The attention to detail is amazing and the designs are hypnotic.  Such works usually hold what I call a “surprise” on the bottom.  Many people fail to turn such pots over, thereby missing some of the most beautiful aspects of the piece.  Collectors are often astonished when I tell them that a pot doesn’t have to be displayed head on.  It can be exhibited sideways or even upside down.  For example, every so often I change the presentation of some of the pots in my collection.  Doing so allows me to see them in a totally new way.  Once in a gallery in Santa Fe a woman was considering buying a pot but felt she didn’t have a space for it.  “What if you put it sideways?”  I asked.  “I never thought of that,” she replied and instantly bought the pot.     

Pot with checkerboard pattern by Carlos Loya, Mata Ortiz, Mexico, 5”h x 7” at widest point (2001)  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            It was only recently that I acquired a piece by Nathan Youngblood but I had wanted to add one to my collection for quite some time.  I became more determined than ever to do so after a conversation I had with the artist last year when he expressed his desire to be recognized as an American artist as well as a Native artist.  It was clear to me that his work certainly fit with the direction in which I was taking my collection.  For years, Youngblood has been expanding the boundaries of Native American pottery in his own unique way.  Although construction of his pieces is done following time honored techniques, their decoration is abstract and highly complex.  After forming a pot Youngblood draws a design on it in pencil when it has completely dried.  Then, using a knife and small screwdrivers he cuts into the clay.  The depth to which he carves is daring and often astonishing.  The piece is next sanded, covered with slip (liquefied clay), stone polished and then individually fired.  Curving around the bowl I own is a deeply carved abstract Avanyu or water serpent as well as a second abstract version of this sacred creature that has been etched into the piece.  Whether or not one knows what the designs “mean,” they can be appreciated for their sheer beauty.

Tan Bowl with carved and etched water serpents (Avanyus) by Nathan Youngblood, Santa Clara, 7”w x 4¾”h (2009)  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Susan Folwell’s work never ceases to astonish me.  For example, she is able to combine disparate abstract elements in the same piece and, somehow, it works.  In particular her ability to fuse Northwest Coast designs with other imagery is often startling.  Northwest Coast art abstracts and flattens human and animal figures because they have to wrap around three dimensional objects such as masks, hats, boxes, bowls, dishes, spoons, house fronts, screens, canoes and poles or decorate two dimensional creations such as spectacular Chilkat blankets.  The designs have a calligraphic quality because of the varying widths within individual lines.  Recently, I acquired a plate by Susan that is daring in so many ways.  On the front of the piece she mixes Northwest Coast imagery with circles that are reminiscent of the work of Wassily Kandinsky, the Russian abstract painter.  The edge of the plate was treated with water to give it a rough look and the reverse side has iconic Santa Clara crosses with dots around the edge that have the appearance of sewn leather.        

(Front)

(Reverse)

Plate with Northwest Coast and geometric designs by Susan Folwell, Santa Clara,

acrylic paint, natural clay slips and wood stain, 8½” in diameter (2010).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            In the mid 1990s I acquired my first examples of Inuit graphic art when I purchased two drawings by Janet Kigusiaq.  Much impressed by the artist’s use of line and detail to depict scenes of Inuit life as well as her use of multiple perspectives in the same piece, I thought the works would fit perfectly with what I believed was the primitive nature of my collection.  Over the years I have come to see that Native art is many things but it is not primitive.  Also, as I acquired more of Kigusiaq’s work I realized that she was a complex and highly sophisticated modern artist.  I was so taken with her artistry that she is represented in my collection more than any other artist.  For many years all I knew of Kigusiuq’s work was her representational prints and drawings.  The first time I saw her abstract drawings was a revelation.  Some were comprised of bold colors but others, such as Arctic Landscape (Greys and Browns), were done in duller shades, reflecting the many hues seen in the Arctic.  I suddenly had a new quest: to acquire as many of the artist’s abstract works as I possibly could.  Having done so, I feel they bring balance not only to the Inuit portion of my collection but to the collection as a whole.  

Arctic Landscape (Greys and Browns), abstract by Janet Kigusuiq, pencil crayon, Inuit,

Baker Lake, 22¼” x 30” (2001) Collection of E. J. Guarino

Photo courtesy of Feheley Fine Arts, Toronto

            Inuit artist Tony Anguhalluq began his career as a sculptor but in the last few years has gained recognition for his abstract and semi-abstract drawings.  His first solo exhibition, held at Vancouver’s Marion Scott Gallery, immediately sold out.  It was followed by a second, equally popular exhibit at the same gallery less than a year later.  Anguhalluq’s drawings have been compared to Japanese woodblock prints as well as to the abstract landscapes of Milton Avery and even to the work of Matisse, Gauguin and Bonnard.  Anguhalluq’s work is certainly very different from that of any other Inuit artist.  The paper blazes with color – reds, greens, oranges, purples, and more.  Clearly, the artist is not interested in realism or perspective but rather form, line and color.  Lloyd Dykk, art critic for the Vancouver Sun, described Anguhalluq’s colors as “ravishing” and stated that many of the artist’s smaller, unpeopled works are “like meditations on the landscape.”

High hills and mountain in June, 2007 by Tony Anguhalluq, colored pencil and graphite on paper, Inuit, Baker Lake, 14”h x 11”w (paper) (2007)  Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Even utilitarian objects made by Native people often bear the marks of abstraction.  Cornhusk bags are a perfect example of useful objects that were also works of art.  These flat rectangular bags are unique to the Columbia River Plateau area of the Pacific Northwest and were made by the Nez Perce, Yakama, Cayuse, Walla Walla and Umatilla tribes.  Originally used to store roots, they were highly prized trade items.  Later they were used by women as accessories on special occasions and became symbols of cultural identity that were passed down to succeeding generations.  In spite of their name, cornhusk bags were made out of a variety of plant materials as well such as string and yarn.  Cornhusk bags always have a different design on each side.  Some bags have geometric patterns on both sides while others are geometric on one side and have a pictorial image of humans, plants, insects, birds or other creatures on the reverse.  The bags are particularly noted for their vivid colors and striking abstract designs.      

Cornhusk bag, possibly Nez Perce, 12”h x 10½”w (circa 1900) Collection of E. J. Guarino

            Little attention is often given to fiber art, perhaps because it is something made by women and relegated to the realm of craftwork.  However, women have been using textiles as a means of personal expression for centuries.  Among the finest examples of this type of art are the molas of the Kuna people who live in a 140 mile area of rainforest and on the islands of the San Blas Archipelago on Panama’s Caribbean Coast.  This region is now called Kuna Yala, or “Kuna Land.”  For generations, Kuna women have been creating cloth panels with highly complex designs as a way of communicating their feelings and ideas through visual means.  The panels, called molas, have many levels of meaning and are made from layers of colored cotton cloth, the more layers the more complicated the design becomes.  In order to produce a mola the women draw a design on a piece of cloth and then use cutting, basting and sewing to create a panel which is then sewn onto a blouse.  Both the blouses and the individual panels are highly sought after by collectors.  Each is unique and even the more representational pieces have a distinctly abstract quality.  Kuna cultural specialists can identify specific abstract designs and interpret them.  Each has a name and a meaning, something that needs to be researched with regard to the mola in my collection.             

Mola, artist unknown, cotton appliqué, Kuna People, Panama, 15¾” x 14½” (c. 1998)

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center,Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2010.

            Humans seem to have a need to abstract and Native people are no exception.  In the course of thousands of years each cultural group has covered a vast array of objects with complex designs which clearly have deeper meanings but can be appreciated solely for their visual beauty.  Abstract art was something that never appealed to me and I particularly did not appreciate Contemporary art. However, collecting Native art has opened my mind to many more artistic possibilities and through it I came to value a wider range of artistic expression.  

WHERE SILENCE REIGNS:  Jemez State Monument

BY E. J. GUARINO 

                Traveling in the Southwest is exciting.  There is always so much to see and learn, including the chance to discover lesser known sights that, with a little effort, can offer the savvy traveler a variety of experiences such as unique photographic and educational opportunities.  Most people are first drawn to major cities – Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Phoenix, and Tucson – because of the many cultural attractions they offer.  Of course, the Grand Canyon and other national parks are always important destinations as well.  Some travelers venture to the more famous archaeological sites – Mesa Verde, Canyon de Chelly and Chaco Canyon – and to one or two pueblos, usually Acoma and Taos.  However, there are a number of small gems such as Jémez State Monument that are well worth a traveler’s time.  The site encompasses the ruins of the 17^th century mission of San José de los Jémez and Giusewa, a Pueblo village which spanned both the prehistoric and historic periods.

The monument is named for the Jémez people who were the original settlers of the area, arriving in the Cañon de San Diego from Hua-na-tota, what is now called the Four Corners region, sometime in the late 1200s A.D.  According to Jémez tradition, one He’mish group migrated southeast, perhaps coming from Mesa Verde or even Chaco Canyon, and founded Pecos Pueblo (see “Santa Fe Side,” March/April 2008), which is located east of present day Santa Fe. 

            Sometime around 1275 the remaining He’mish left their ancestral homeland, traveling south to what are today called the Jémez Mountains where they eventually built numerous pueblos on the mesas and in the canyons as well as one and two room homes utilized in the spring and summer and located about an hours walk from the larger villages. 

            The first Europeans entered Pueblo lands in the winter of 1540-41 when Francisco Vásquez de Coronado arrived in the area leading a group of 1,200 men, consisting of soldiers, priests and Mexican Indians, and settled in at Puaray, a pueblo whose exact location has yet to be discovered.  The He’mish people first encountered the Spanish in the spring of 1541 when Coronado stopped his army at Pecos before moving on to the Great Plains where he wandered for the almost a year.  Ultimately, the Coronado expedition was a failure, never having found the Seven Cities of Gold, and returned to Mexico City in 1542 with little to show for the hardships endured.  However, other expeditions followed in 1581, 1583 and 1598.  The Spanish divided Pueblo lands into provinces to which they assigned a Franciscan priest charged with the task of converting Native souls to the Christian Faith.  Missions were founded throughout New Mexico, including at Pecos and Giusewa.  To the Spanish ear, He’mish (meaning “the people”) sounded like Hemes, which eventually became Jémez. 

            One of the largest of the He’mish pueblos, Giusewa had been constructed over 200 years prior to the arrival of the Spanish.  The name, which means “place of the boiling waters” in Towa, refers to nearby hot springs.  (Towa is only spoken by the Jémez people and is one of three Tanoan linguistic groups, the others being Tewa and Tiwa.)

Pueblo Ruins at Giusewa

            The arrival of the conquistadores and the Franciscan priests changed Pueblo life forever.  The Spanish introduced unfamiliar crops such as wheat, grapes, pomegranates, figs and chiles as well as strange animals – horses, donkeys, mules, cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and chickens.  More importantly, however, they brought a new world view, a new faith and the domination of Pueblo people.

The Spanish saw Native people as idolaters, doomed to the fires of Hell and in need of salvation.  In 1630 Fray Alonzo de Benevides wrote that the Jémez people were “. . . subject to the demon, and his slaves until this time; and all filled with estufas of idolatry . . . . “  The Spanish, having no word for Pueblo religious structures, referred to kivas as estufas, which in their language meant a sweating room or drying chamber.

Kiva 1, Giusewa

            Because they believed that Native people were in danger of losing their immortal souls, it became imperative for the Spanish friars to build churches.  The priests designed mission complexes that were then constructed with Native labor, which was often forced. 

Church of San José de los Jémez

The first mission compound was built at Giusewa between 1598 and 1601.  A second, larger church, San José de los Jémez, was designed by Fray Gerónimo Zárate Salmerón and constructed during the winter of 1621–22.  It was a massive structure with an octagonal bell tower and a complex of living and working quarters, known as a convento, attached to it.  The interior of the church was decorated with multicolored frescoes, the Stations of the Cross and retablos, images of saints painted on pine panels, and bultos, hand carved wooden statues.

Giusewa was once a bustling community, its plaza filled with the comings and goings of its inhabitants.  People met in this central area to exchange information and to barter with long distance traders who brought goods from other pueblos, the Navajo and Apache lands and even from Mexico.  Today, however, silence reigns.  The plaza is empty as are the three kivas, the church and its convento.

In 1680 the people of Giusewa, along with other pueblos throughout New Mexico, revolted against the injustices of Spanish rule.  At Giusewa, the He’mish burned the church, killed its priest and then, sometime around 1692, abandoned their village forever. 

Today all that remains of most of the pueblo are mounds of rubble.  Close to the church are low walls - all that is left of a three-story apartment-like pueblo structure. 

The church, though stripped of its once sumptuous decorations and religious objects, is still impressive.  The imposing two-story façade, the enormous window openings and the beautifully proportioned nave that seems to draw you forward towards the sanctuary, the structure’s most sacred area, hint at former glory.

Façade (left) and nave (right) of the Church of San José de los Jémez

Attached to the east side of the church is the convento which contains the ruins of rooms once used for church business, classes, sleeping quarters, a kitchen, a pantry and a secure storeroom. 

Refectory area of the convento of San José de los Jémez 

Jémez State Monument offers the visitor the opportunity to consider the various forces that came to shape the history, culture, politics and economy of the Southwest.  It is a very humbling experience to stand amid the ruins of a once thriving village that is now devoid of humans and know that its inhabitants were part of the first American Revolution.

Currently, the majority of Jémez, some 3,400 people, live at Walatowa (the Pueblo of Jémez), located a few miles beyond Jémez State Monument.  The pueblo has a small but extremely informative museum in its visitor’s center that tells the story of the He’mish people from their perspective. 

DIRECTIONS: Take I-25 north from Albuquerque to Exit 242.  Go west towards

Bernalillo on State Highway 550/44.  Continue west to San Ysidro and take Hwy 4 to the monument.

FOR MORE INFORMATION: www.nmmonuments.org/inst.php?inst=6

NOTE:  A visit to Jémez State Monument can easily be combined with Coronado

             State Monument (See “If These Walls Could Talk,” October 2010). 

  A combination pass is available at either site for $5.00.

IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK:   Coronado State Monument

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Descending by wooden ladder into the subterranean chamber of a kiva is a very special experience.  Doing so at Coronado State Monument in New Mexico is especially powerful since the site’s Kiva 3 contains murals that are considered the best example of pre-contact art in the country.  Standing in front of the murals with their colorful symbols and portrayals of humans, animals, lightning, rain and kachinas (spiritual beings still integral to Pueblo culture) it is easy to imagine what it must have been like to see the images by firelight, amid the sounds of chanting, drums, rattles and, perhaps, the shuffling of feet. 

One of Kuaua’s kivas

            Living in the 21^st century, it is hard to imagine what the first contact between Pueblo people and the Spanish was like for either side.  For us, an equivalent meeting would be encountering visitors from outer space who landed a flying saucer on our front lawn.  As hard as it may be to accept such an idea, at the time of the entrada, in addition to mutually unintelligible languages, both groups heard and saw things that were totally alien to them. 

Pueblo people saw strange beings encased in metal and riding astride bizarre creatures, which at first may have been perceived as one animal with two heads and four feet since they had seen nothing like it before.  Possessed of seemingly all-powerful weapons, the newcomers also traveled with other strange sounding, odd looking beasts – cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and massive hounds

The Spanish, according to their own accounts, were shocked to discover an organized society in the middle of what they considered a vast wilderness which they named simply la tierra incognita, the unknown land.  They were surprised to find that those they considered primitive and inferior had produced multi-story dwellings and were possessed of exceptional artistic, agricultural, architectural and governmental abilities as well as complex religious ceremonies and beliefs.  (At the time, the great minds of Europe were still debating whether or not New World Natives had been endowed with a soul.)

Lured north from Mexico by tales of Seven Cities of Gold that were supposed to be located in the mythical Cíbola, nearly 300 Spanish soldiers, led by Francisco Vásquez de Coronado, penetrated la tierra incognita in 1540, first stumbling upon the Zuni pueblos.  For the inhabitants, their arrival was a disaster and one that was soon to be repeated.

Having defeated the Zunis, the Spanish sent out an advance guard of twenty men, led by Hernando Alvarado, to make further explorations.  One hundred and twenty miles to the east they entered Tiguex (pronounced Tee-wesh), a province comprised of twelve (possibly fourteen) pueblos along the Rio Grande River in an area stretching from modern Isleta Pueblo to what is today the town of Bernalillo, some sixteen miles north of Albuquerque.  The rest of the army soon followed, settling in to Puaray, a pueblo whose exact location has yet to be discovered by archaeologists.  The inhabitants had no choice but to accept the intruders and treated them as guests.  For their kindness the people of Puaray were repaid with brutality.  The Spanish remained in the village, which also appears in the historical record as Coofar and Alcanfor, for two years.  During that time the Spanish simply took anything they wanted and at least one rape was documented.  No longer able to endure such treatment the villagers revolted, first killing some of the horses.  The Spanish swiftly retaliated.  Native bows and arrows were no match for guns, crossbows, and metal swords.

In 1542 the Spanish finally left, returning to Mexico but leaving behind three Franciscan priests charged with converting the natives to Catholicism. 

The ruins of Kuaua

            Among the pueblos of Tiguex province was Kuaua (Kwah-wah), an important center of commerce in pre-contact times.  Diverse trade goods from the Hopi mesas, the Pacific Coast, the Gulf of California, Mexico and the Great Plains passed through the pueblo.  Construction on the village began sometime around 1300 A.D. and it was occupied for some 300 years.  By 1625 it was abandoned though for reasons that remain unclear.  Kuaua may have fallen victim to reducción, a Spanish policy whereby villages were consolidated in the belief that this would more easily facilitate the conversion of the Indians to Christianity.  It is also possible that the people of Kuaua, for reasons unknown to us, relocated to other pueblos, such as Isleta, Sandía, Picurís and Taos, which also spoke their Tiwa language or to non-Tiwa speaking villages such as Acoma, or even far off Zuni or the Hopi mesas.  The pueblo was briefly re-occupied a hundred years later, perhaps by Spanish settlers.  It then fell into ruin and was ignored until the 1930s when archaeologists, in preparation for the 400th anniversary of Coronado’s entrance into New Mexico, began excavating at Kuaua and another site hoping to find Puaray.

View from Coronado State Monument

            What was unearthed answered many questions, but raised even more.  Of the many discoveries, the most astonishing was finding ceremonial kiva murals.  Hidden among eighty-five layers of adobe plaster were seventeen that were covered with paintings depicting Pueblo life and religious ceremonies.  In order to save the murals, special techniques had to be improvised to separate and remove them.

Wild flowers at Coronado State Monument

            There are other fascinating aspects to Kuaua besides the murals.  During excavations, the ruins of six kivas were uncovered.  Two were round, indicating cultural influence from Ancestral Puebloans to the north, while four were square or rectangular, typical of the Mogollon culture located to the south as well as to the west of Kuaua. 

            For modern visitors the high points of a visit to Coronado State Monument are Kuaua’s reconstructed Kiva 3, with its painstakingly reproduced murals, and the Kuaua Mural Hall in the visitor center, which contains the originals.

                        We may never fully understand the many meanings the murals hold, but the walls do speak to us through their delicate, fragile beauty and by revealing to us a unique vision of Pueblo life.

Like the frescoes and sculpture that adorn European churches, Kuaua’s murals are religious art and Kiva 3, though reconstructed, is still considered holy and should be respected. 

            Fifteen panels from the original murals are exhibited in the visitor center.  They are the only murals of this type open to the public and they are among our national treasures.

Rio Grande from Coronado State Monument

            Although Kuaua is a stone’s throw from a major freeway and a Jackalope store, it is, nonetheless, extremely sacred to Pueblo people.  For this reason, no photographs may be taken of any of the kivas or of the murals, both the originals and the reproductions.

DIRECTIONS: Take I-25 north from Albuquerque to Exit 242.  Go west towards Bernalillo approximately 1.7 miles on State Highway 550/44 to Kuaua Road.

FOR MORE INFORMATION: www.nmmonuments.org/inst.php?inst=4

NO KIDDING:  Collecting the Art of Native  Young People

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Whether we like to admit it or not, collecting art is just plain fun.  That may not be the most sophisticated way of stating it but it is certainly the most truthful.  There is an adrenalin rush when you find a new piece that is just perfect for your collection or when you discover an artist whose work excites you.  As a collector of Native art, there is always something new for me to learn and interesting people to meet as I search out new works for my collection.  One of my most enjoyable collecting areas is art created by Native young people. 

            Art produced by children is always charming, truthful and lacking in pretension.  It has a spontaneity and originality that many contemporary adult artists envy and try to achieve in their own work.  Artworks made by Native youngsters have these qualities as well but, in addition, draw on rich cultural traditions. 

            As collectors, it is very important that we encourage and support young artists, especially since classes in the arts are the first to come under attack when there is a budget crunch in public education.

I collected my first piece of art created by a Native young person in 2000.  I was visiting Durango, Colorado and wandered into a shop that sold beautiful baskets.  I knew nothing about them but the owner of the shop was not only very knowledgeable but passionate about the Wounaan baskets she was promoting.  She explained that the Wounaan, a Panamanian Indian group that lives in the Darién Rainforest east of the Canal Zone, number less than 7,000 people living in eighteen scattered villages. 

Although the Wounaan live in an extremely remote area, they have become known in the outside world as the creators of extremely fine baskets.  Females are taught to make baskets at an early age and continue to do so throughout their lives.  Utilitarian baskets are plain but those made for decorative purposes as part of the international art market are often masterpieces.  Such works have an intricate weave and complex designs.  Some of the baskets have representational imagery such as toucans, serpents, frogs, butterflies, spiders, grasshoppers and various trees; others are covered with detailed geometric designs, some of which are stylized versions of patterns found on boa constrictors.      

Small Wounaan basket with geometric designs and self-portrait on bottom by

Orfeuna, (done when the artist was 12 years old), Panama, 3”h x 4½”w (2000). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino.

            I purchased a couple of baskets, some with representational motifs and others with geometric patterns.  However, I was particularly struck by one basket that had the image of a person with upraised hands on the bottom.  When the owner explained that the piece had been made by a twelve year old girl and that the image on the basket’s base was a self-portrait, like any self-respecting teacher, I bought it. 

            My next acquisition of a work of art by a Native young person was also in 2000 when I came upon a small pot by Elana Navasie Nampeyo, a great-great-granddaughter of Old Nampeyo.  It was exciting that this charming little piece was the first pot made by a direct descendant of one of the most famous and important Native American potters.  I marveled that after so many generations family members were still connected to the clay. 

Pot with brown and rust designs on buff by Elana Navasie Nampeyo, (done when the artist was 16 yrs. old) Hopi, 2”h x 4 ½”w (2000). 

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2008.

                However, what most attracted me to the piece was that it is simple, unpretentious and delicately painted.  The fact that the pot was a young girl’s very first piece was particularly appealing.  I felt that my buying it might encourage her to continue exploring this art form.       

Painting of a katsina by Aaisha S. Warner (done when the artist was 9yrs. old), Laguana/Navajo, 6”h x 4½”w (ca. 2002). 

Donated to the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College from the E. J. Guarino Collection, 2009.

            A few years later, as I was buying a piece of pottery in a gallery in Sedona, Arizona I noticed a small painting of a katsina done with strong lines and bold colors that reminded me of Fritz Scholder’s work.  Although the piece is small, it is quite striking.  When I inquired about it I was amazed to learn that the artist was only nine years old.    As before, I bought the piece without a second thought.   

This past May at the King Galleries Pueblo Pottery in New York City show I came across a wonderful little pot made by Dominick Ortiz, a fifteen year old who shows great promise.  Ortiz is the nephew of Virgil Ortiz who is mentoring this young artist and told him to follow the rules but then "do whatever you want."  The pot is constructed and fired in the traditional manner and the paint is made from wild spinach.  The decoration around the rim of the pot is also classic Cochiti. 

Black-on-white pot with abstract designs by Dominick Ortiz, Cochiti, wild spinach paint, 5”h x 4”w (2010). 

Collection of E. J. Guarino 

            However, the body of the piece is another story.  It is covered with abstract designs that at once call to mind holly leaves and bats.  The pot is daring in its use of such imagery, especially coming from one so young.  Ortiz is certainly an artist to watch.

            Over the years when I’ve spoken at various schools about Native art I always make sure to include a few works by Native young people.  I mix them in with art created by adults and the students are always surprised when I reveal the pieces made by children.  As a lecturer, I use these pieces to get the students talking.  

 Recently I added up the cost of the basket, the two pots, and the painting.

                                      Wounaan basket by Orfeuna:        $ 50.00

                                      Pot by Elana Navasie Nampeyo:    $112.00

                                      Painting by Aaisha S. Warner:       $ 20.00

                                      Pot by Dominick Ortiz:                   $175.00

                                                                       Total cost:      $357.00

To paraphrase a well-known credit card commercial: three works of art - $357.00; supporting four young Native artists – priceless.

Young Native artists need our encouragement and support.  For example, the Heard Museum Guild American Indian Student Art Show & Sale offers collectors the opportunity to view and purchase the work of over 1,000 Native students from across the U.S. and Canada.  However, as collectors, whenever we come across a young Native artist that has talent we can offer praise and support by purchasing his or her work.  A few years ago I was at Canyon de Chelly and as I traveled the rim drive there were a number of people, young and old, selling small slabs of rock on which images based on the site’s petroglyphs had been etched.  I looked at many examples but one young boy’s work stood out from the rest.  Clearly not more than ten years old, he had talent.  During a brief conversation I learned that, even at his early age, he saw himself as an artist and he hoped to go to school to study art.  Needless-to-say, I bought one of his pieces which I gave to my young nephew.

It is very satisfying to buy art created by Native young people but, as with their adult counterparts, it is exciting to be able to buy a piece directly from the artist.  It is always enlightening to get information about the piece that would otherwise be lost and it is a joy to watch the reaction on the child’s face when you express interest in their art and they tell you how they made the piece, what it means to them and how they feel about being an artist.  It is just such experiences that make collecting art so much fun.        

THE EYES HAVE IT:  The Importance of Developing a Collector's Instincts

BY E. J. GUARINO 

In order to build a strong collection it is important to develop what collectors and gallery staff refer to as a “good eye.”  This attribute is acquired by experiencing as much art, both good and bad, as possible.  Without an “eye” one is doomed to make poor choices and often costly mistakes; with it one may discover an incredible gem and avoid serious missteps. 

A number of years ago while buying some Navajo folk art pieces in a Mom and Pop style shop in Moab, Utah I glanced around at the dust covered shelves and spotted high up, almost out of sight what I thought were katsinas and asked the shopkeeper if I might see them.  He took down six wooden sculptures each dressed in a cloth costume. The pieces were actually Navajo female Yei-Bei-Che figures carved by Drake Jones sometime around 1974.  The attention to detail was an indication that they had been made with great care and feeling.  I had never seen anything like them before and asked whether they were for sale and, if so, for how much.  I was told the price was ninety dollars.  Being from New York, I assumed the man meant ninety dollars each!  To my surprise, the shopkeeper explained that the amount he had quoted was for all six figures.  I immediately purchased them, having realized that this “find” was something very unusual, indeed.  Excited as I was, however, I really had no idea just how special the carvings were and wondered if they were the treasure I thought them to be or if my collector’s eye had led me astray.  A few months later I sent photographs of the pieces to a friend and mentor in Sedona, Arizona who told me that although such objects can be found they were not common and added that the ones I had were unusual because of their cloth costumes.  I was relieved and ecstatic to learn this.  The Yei-Bei-Che figures from the old fashioned shop in Utah remain among the jewels of my collection.      

Six Navajo female Yei-Bi-Chai figures by Drake Jones, Navajo,

wood, cloth, paint, yarn, leather, sequins, beads; each 9” tall (ca. 1974).  Collection of E. J. Guarino

On another occasion, I was offered a large pot by a well known artist at a surprisingly low price for a New York gallery.  After a cursory inspection I decided it was exquisite and dashed home filled with excitement, all the while trying to figure out how I would come up with the money.  (I am not a wealthy collector; I’m a retired high school teacher.)  Frantically pulling out cash I had squirreled away in my various secret stashes, I came up with the necessary amount and raced back to the gallery.  Fortunately, I decided to take a closer look at the piece and, to my dismay, discovered a number of imperfections caused during the firing process.  Although I felt like a deflated balloon, I realized that although I had very much wanted a piece by this artist, this was not it. 

This story illustrates a number of points which, though not new, bear repeating: first, if it seems too good to be true it probably is; second; let the buyer beware; third, knowledge is power; and fourth, not every piece made by an artist, even a great one, is a masterpiece.

Traveling in New Mexico near Nambé two years ago, I stopped at a gallery that had been recommended by friends who live in the area.  As soon as I walked in I spotted a large, spectacular pot by Jacqui Stevens.  It was one of the artist’s iconic works that blurred the line between pottery and basket making.  As soon as I saw this piece I knew that I wanted it but doubted I could afford it.  As it turned out, the pot was within my price range but I hesitated because I was at the beginning of my trip.  Saying, “I want to think about it” I left the gallery.  However, by the time I reached my car I thought, “What is there to think about?”  I went back inside and purchased the piece but continued to wonder if I had done the right thing.  A few days later I saw a similar pot by the artist in a Santa Fe gallery for three times what I had paid and I knew that the eye I had developed over so many years of collecting had once again served me well.

White bowl with woven reeds by Jacqui Stevens, Winnabago, 1

0”h x 14”w, 44” in circumference (2008).

Collection of Edward J. Guarino

            For me, success in buying art only came after years of collecting.  Early on I made mistakes that today seem terribly naïve.  Looking back, the words “What were you thinking?” come to mind.  Then I remind myself of what I tell others: Collecting is a process.  In all fairness, I must admit that, like most collectors, my worst errors in judgment were made long before the thought of being a collector had entered my mind.

Two of my biggest mistakes, which could easily have been avoided, happened on the same day but I didn’t become aware of them until much time had passed (in one case twenty-five years). 

In the early 1980s, out of a desire to learn more about Native American culture, I attended a powwow in Upstate New York.  At the time, I had never seen pottery for sale except at very high prices in Manhattan galleries but at the powwow there were tables displaying pots that I could easily afford.  I bought three pots and a basket, very pleased that I had made good buys.  A number of years later, unable to find anything out about the basket I took it to a gallery owner who had become a friend and mentor.  She took one look at it and said, “This is a nice basket but, I hate to tell you, it’s not Native American; it’s African.”  At that moment I felt like the world’s biggest idiot, figuring I was the only person on earth who could go to an American Indian event and leave with an African basket. 

            My second blunder came to light under even more embarrassing circumstances.  In 2006 while preparing for Forms of Exchange: Art of Native Peoples from the Edward J. Guarino Collection at the Loeb Art Center at Vassar College Dr. Bruce Bernstein, the current Executive Director of the Southwestern Asssociation for Indian Arts (SWAIA) came to my home to help select works for the exhibition.  One by one he picked up each piece of pottery, examined it and commented on it.  When he came to one of the pots I had bought at the powwow all those years ago I mentioned that I really didn’t know very much about it.  His next remark stunned me.  “Well,” he said, “I can tell you that it is definitely mold made.  See the line where the two pieces were joined together?”  My face must have turned every shade of red.  It was a pottery collector’s worst nightmare.  A mold made piece in my collection!  And to have it discovered by such an important and knowledgeable person!  Seeing my great discomfort, my guest assured me that this sort of thing happened all the time and that I should keep the pot to use as a teaching tool. 

            I still have the African basket, which is lovely, as well as the mold made pot as a reminder of the importance of “doing the homework.”  If I had seen more examples of good Native American pottery and had looked carefully and had asked some questions I could have avoided an inexpensive but foolish misstep.  Fortunately, I learned from those mistakes and I have never forgotten them.

            Keeping my “mistakes” in the collection also serves as a powerful teaching tool.  Showing these pieces to students and other collectors illustrates that collectors at any level can make a blunder.  Having a laugh at my expense is a reminder that “to err is human” and that making an error is okay as long as you learn something from it.            

Hidden in Plain Sight: A Guide to New World Native Art in European Museums (July 2010)

BY E. J. GUARINO 

            Americans traveling to Europe are generally focused on things European – fashion, cuisine, churches, historic monuments and museums filled with centuries of the Continent’s great art.  It would probably come as a surprise, as it did to me, that European museums have vast and important holdings of New World Native art. 

            When Europeans first arrived in the Americas what they saw was so alien to them that they referred to these lands as the New World, which to them it was.  If we of the 21^st century discovered another planet teaming with life the shock would probably be the same as when Europeans encountered lands with vast stretches of forests, plains, prairies and deserts filled with animals and plants their eyes had never before beheld and beings who appeared to be human but spoke, dressed, and lived so differently that they were a bewilderment.  New World natives were so puzzling to Europeans that for an extended period of time theologians and philosophers debated whether or not they had souls and were, therefore, human.  In his 1550 treatise A Second Democritus: on the just causes of the war with the Indians, Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda, a Spanish humanist, philosopher and theologian, argued that New World Natives were “natural slaves.”  In response, Bartolomé de Las Casas, the first resident Bishop of Chiapas, Mexico, offered Defense Against The Persecutors and Slanderers of the Peoples of the New World Discovered Across the Seas. Eventually, it was decided that Indians, as they came to be called, were human – sort of – but needed to be Christianized and civilized.  That such a debate should have even taken place may seem shocking from a 21^st century perspective.  However, it should be remembered that until fairly recently the world was a much larger place.  In 1661, for example, an African king seeing a European doubted that he was human until the man stripped completely naked.  Even then he thought the man looked like a devil because of his extremely white skin.  (For more on this fascinating era see All Mankind Is One by Lewis Hanke.)

            Ironically, at the same time Europeans were destroying Native people (usually intentionally, sometimes unintentionally) they were also collecting examples of their material culture.  Many of the earliest Native objects reside in European museums, sent home to impress monarchs into funding further expeditions.  Often Native people were taken captive and presented in Europe as “exotics” along with examples of their cultures. 

            Over the centuries as European explorers, adventurers, mercenaries and scientists continued to penetrate and colonize the vast reaches of the New World they collected plant and animal specimens as well as examples of Native life.  Native holdings in European museums began as cabinets of curiosities or Royal Cabinets, collections of what were considered rare and exotic.  Such collections were ethnographic in nature and remain so in the modern European museum setting.  However, there are signs that things are slowly beginning to change.

            Most of the Native objects in European museum collections are the result of English, Spanish, French, Dutch, Portuguese and Russian colonialism.  That these countries would have large caches of American Indigenous objects is no surprise.  However, the New World connection of other countries such as Germany, Austria, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Finland, Hungary, the Czech Republic and the Vatican is more complex, circuitous and often unexpected.

            Two experiences provoked my curiosity about what treasure troves of Native art might be housed in the great museums of Europe.  One was seeing “ALASKA: Russian America,” an exhibit of very early Indian, Eskimo and Aleut objects drawn from the collections of the National Museum of Finland, presented at the Alaska State Museum in Juneau in 1992.  The other was visiting the Museum of the Americas in Madrid and the Barbier-Mueller Museum of Pre-Columbian Art in Barcelona.  Of course, that Spain should have New World Native materials was not unexpected but the rarity, quality and the early dates of the objects was astonishing.  On the other hand, the Alaska Native holdings of Finland were an outright shock that demanded further investigation.

In the early 1800s many Finns served in Alaska, then part of the Russian Empire, with the Russian American Company, among them Adolf Etholén.  The rich collection of early Alaska Native materials in Helsinki’s Museum of Cultures was collected between 1840 and 1845 by Etholén while in the employ of Russia.  The museum also has a large cache of objects from Mesa Verde “collected” by Finnish geologist Gustaf Nordenskiöld in 1891 as well as materials from the Gran Chaco and the Amazon that came from the collection of Rafael Karsten, a social anthropologist who traveled to South America to study Native groups.

Russia itself has a large repository of Native materials housed in the Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography in St. Petersburg, once the country’s capital.  Founded by Peter himself as a kunstkamera, or “art collection,” the museum was opened to the public in 1714 and contains Native objects collected from the early to late 1700s when the Russians explored the New World from the Aleutian Islands to California.  The museum contains many Aleut, Eskimo/Inuit, Athabascan, Northwest Coast and California Indian objects.  In the late 1800s the museum’s holdings were increased through exchanges with the National Museum of Copenhagen, the American Museum of Natural History in New York and the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.  This resulted in one of the richest Native North American collections in the world. 

Other Scandinavian nations besides Finland also have a wealth of New World materials.  The ethnographical collection of the National Museum of Denmark, for example, grew from the Royal Cabinet of Curiosities circa 1650.  The Arctic holdings were brought back to Denmark in the early 1900s by Knud Rasmussen (Inuit/Danish), a Greenlandic/Danish explorer, writer and lecturer.  The museum also has rare pre-Columbian artifacts as well as Prairie Indian costumes. 

Norway’s Historical Museum in Oslo also benefited from the contributions of explorers such as Roald Amundsen, who traveled in the Arctic and collected Netsilik Inuit materials, and Carl Lumholtz, an ethnographer who carried on meticulous field studies in central Mexico and Mesoamerica. 

On the other hand, the manner of acquisition for some Native objects in Sweden’s Ethnography Museum in Stockholm is not clear while for others it is.  Most people don’t know that from 1638 to 1655 Sweden had a New World colony, New Sweden, on the coast of what is now Delaware.  Then, in the 1800s Swedes such as Carl Hjalte Fredrik, who traveled to New Mexico and Arizona, and Armand Fouché d’Otrante, who crossed the Northern Plains, donated Native American objects they had collected to the museum.  Currently, the Ethnography Museum is mounting “First Nations of North America,” a new permanent exhibit that has as its goal to show a large number of objects in an eighty-two foot long display case in ten sections.  In addition, 130 objects from the museum’s extensive Northwest Coast holdings will be displayed in another part of the museum.  Although sections of the exhibition will have titles such as “To Be Educated White,” “Personal Narratives,” “Powwow,” “The Image of ‘The Others,’” and “Life on the Plains and in a Pueblo,” some aspects are troubling, especially statement’s in a press release which is quoted below.

    “Ethnographic museums are currently being discussed in relation to expansionism and colonialism.  Many people – not the least of                 whom representatives of Native America – place demands on museums to raise issues relating to their collections and exhibitions.

“When objects from Native America are to be exhibited in American and Canadian museums it often happens in collaboration with the ethnic group from which the objects originate.  The collections at the Ethnographic Museum are so extensive and varied in origin that the museum has decided to carry out the project on its own terms, albeit in consultation with accredited researchers.”

 Native people are to have no input with regard to this exhibition.  However, more disturbing is the attitude concerning culturally sensitive materials.  According to the same press release, although Native American people have criticized museums for displaying sacred objects a group of them will be exhibited anyway “to bring to light the problems surrounding a number of ‘charged’ objects and thus reflect a current international discussion.”

            However, the Rietberg Museum in Zurich, which is dedicated to non-European cultures, is one of the more progressive European museums to display New World Native art.  The Rietberg presents the objects in its collections as works of art rather than ethnographic specimens.  The core of the museum’s holdings came from Baron Edvard van der Heydt but grew from donations made by private collectors, corporate sponsors and foundations.  As an art museum, the Rietberg avoids the use of wall texts, lengthy labels, descriptive cards and TV screens.  Instead, visitors have access to an introductory brochure and audio guides.  The museum’s main New World focus is Mesoamerica and Peru but also exhibits artworks from the Arctic, the Pacific Northwest Coast and the American Southeast and Southwest.  A highlight of the museum is an Aztec (Mexica) stone sculpture of a rattlesnake taken back to Europe by German naturalist Alexander von Humbolt.  The Rietberg Museum also has a visible storage area which allows visitors to view 4,000 additional works of art. 

            Zurich’s Nordamerika Native Museum, also displays Native North American art.  Begun with the purchase of the Hotz Collection in 1961, the museum offers works from the Arctic and sub-Arctic regions as well as from the Northwest Coast, the Great Plains, the Prairie, the Northeastern Woodlands and the Southwest.  In addition, exhibits about contemporary Native American life are also presented.      

            Exhibits in German and Austrian museums might be considered a bit old fashioned in terms of presentation but they contain an abundance of materials and tend to avoid controversy. 

Berlin’s Ethnology Museum, for example, originated from the Cabinet of Art and Rarities in the 1600s that evolved into the Royal Prussian Art Cabinet.  Objects in this museum are unusual and beautifully displayed. 

The State Museum of Ethnology in Munich, second only in size to Berlin’s museum, houses exquisite pre-Columbian textiles from South America as well as a Hawaiian feathered cloak circa 1820 and a painted Pawnee bison cloak from 1903 among its many treasures.

Anyone visiting Austria should make a point of visiting Vienna’s Museum of Ethnology, which grew from donations made by the Imperial House of Hapsburg and diplomats as well as through purchases and exchanges.  Objects collected from Arctic peoples by Captain James Cook, a spectacular feathered headdress (which may or may not have been worn by Montezuma) and many other rare examples of Aztec feather work are on exhibit.  The Museum’s South American holdings cover the continent’s incredible diversity of Native cultures, particularly the Andes and Amazonia.  Of particular interest to Americans are objects from the Schwarz and Klinger Collections.  Johann Georg Schwarz was a Viennese fur trader who collected examples of Native American material culture from the Great Lakes area.  Joseph Klinger, another fur dealer, collected Plains-Ojibwa objects, which were donated to the museum in 1825.  The pieces in the Klinger Collection are considered the oldest Plains-Ojibwa objects in the world but they reside in Austria!

Between 1874 and 1918 many Native New World artworks originally held in Vienna’s Royal Court Museum made their way via a complex network to Hungary, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire which commissioned war ships to collect Native materials from the United States, Mexico, Columbia and Peru.  These objects eventually became part of what is today the Néprajzi Museum in Budapest.

Long considered two of Europe’s most important repositories of art, the British Museum in London and the Louvre in Paris now both exhibit Indigenous New World art. 

Among the British Museum’s vast holdings are some of the earliest Native objects from North America dating back 8,000 years.  Rare Aztec and Maya works from Mesoamerica are also on view.

Long considered a bastion of the Western art cannon, the Louvre has finally opened its doors to non-European art.  When most of the holdings in the Museum of Man were transferred to the new Quai Branly Museum, 108 masterpieces from around the world, many from the Americas, were selected to be exhibited in the Louvre’s Pavillon de Sessions, not as ethnographic examples but as works of art.  These galleries are a satellite of the Quai Branly Museum, which will house the majority of non-European artworks held in Paris.

Although most European museums continue to present New World Native materials ethnographically rather than as works of art, it should be remembered that such institutions were founded (many a hundred or more years ago) as ethnographic museums and still function as such.  Even in the United States, it remains rare for Native objects to be presented simply as works of art, not examples of a culture.  Also, U.S. cultural institutions did not begin to collect Native materials until well into the 1800s.  The very earliest examples of New World Native cultures reside in European museums because from the beginning of the Conquest Native objects were collected and taken to Europe.   However, it is important to be able to see rare and early works of Native art no matter what the setting and Europe’s premier museums off savvy travelers many opportunities to do so. 

 MUSEUM WEB SITES: