Phoebus 4 A Journal of Art History Phoebus 4 Contributors Janet Catherine Berlo Marsha Clift Bol Susan Brown McGreevy Marvin Cohodas Barbara DeMott Louis A. Hieb Susan G. Kenagy Mallory McCane-O'Connor Barbara L. Moulard Amy Trevelyan Lee Ann Wilson Erin Younger Phoebus 4 A Journal of Art History Edited by Anthony Lacy Gully Art History Faculty School of Art College of Fine Arts Arizona State University Editorial Board: Ju-Hsi Chou Donald Rabiner Editorial Staff: Jan Sheridan Natalie Tarenko Editor: Anthony Lacy Gully Copyright ©1985 Arizona Board of Regents All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Design: Thomas Detrie Karen Hayes-Thumann Typography: Typography Unlimited, Inc. Lithography: Horizon Graphics Inc. Arizona State University vigorously pursues affirmative action and equal opportunity in its employment, activities and programs. Contents Lee Anne Wilson Preface 7 M. McCane-O'Connor Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 11 Lee Anne Wilson Visual Imagery and Social Change 24 Louis A. Hieb The Language of Dance: Communicative Dimensions of Hopi Katsina Dances 32 Janet Catherine Berlo Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist at Fort Marion, Florida 43 Susan Brown McGreevey The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 54 Amy Trevelyan Powhatan Copper and the Prehistoric Ceremonial Complexes of the Eastern United States 62 Marsha Clift Bol Lakota Beaded Costumes of the Early Reservation Era 71 Susan G. Kenagy The Emergence of Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics During the Late Prehistoric Period 78 Barbara L. Moulard Form, Function and Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Hemispheric Vessels 86 Marvin Cohodas and Barbara DeMott Meaning in Women's Arts of North America 99 Erin Younger Native American Photography: Diversity and Achievement in the Southwest 107 Notes 117 Preface It is with great pleasure that I write this preface. In the spring of 1979, when I first suggested the idea of a symposium on Native American Art, I never dreamt that it w o u l d lead to a full-fledged organization with annual meetings. I am even more delighted to see the publication of many of these papers in a single volume. While many individual papers have been published separately this is the first instance of one publication devoted solely to papers presented at past meetings of the The Native American Art Studies Association. In fact, this volume represents papers from three out of the four meetings held this far: the second conference at Arizona State University, Tempe in April 1981, the third conference at Iowa State University, Ames in March 1982, and the fourth conference at the University of Washington, Seattle in September 1983. Since one of the major aims of NAASA is to foster interest in and disseminate knowledge about Native American art, this publication is a welcome addition to the field. I w o u l d like t o e x t e n d a s p e c i a l t h a n k y o u t o A n t h o n y Lacy Gully for offering to edit an issue of Phoebus d e v o t e d solely to NAASA papers. Special thanks are also due to the School of Art, Arizona State University, for its generous help and support and for believing that NAASA would become a reality. Lee Anne Wilson, President Native American Art Studies Association, Inc. Associate Professor of Art History Arizona State University Phoebus 4 Mallory McCane-O'Connor Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 13 A continuing cultural characteristic in the Southeast throughout the period c. 1000 BC to AD 1500 is the presence of elaborate ceremonialism. A concentration on burial activity seems to have served as a focal point for a number of Southeastern cultures, albeit the details of ceremonialism exhibit expected local/regional/temporal variations. Excavations have established that in the period AD 300-1500, the aboriginal inhabitants of Florida produced numerous specialized artifacts in clay, metal and wood which were deposited in tomb/temple sites in a ceremonial context. Many of the grave goods appear to have been specially made for inclusion in burial sites. Others may have been the property of deceased individuals w h o had attained status within the context of their society. Over the extended period of time between AD 300 to 1500, certain details of ceremonial activity changed, but the basic structure and certain established thematic traditions persisted. During the Weeden Island period, w h i c h lasted f r o m c. AD 300 to 1200 a large number of ceremonial ceramics were produced and numerous examples have been found associated with tomb/temple sites throughout Northwestern Florida, especially in the panhandle region of the state. Weeden Island culture exhibits what has been called "sacred/secular dichotomy" within the area of ceramic production. 1 Ceremonial vessels differ in quality, form, and decoration from utilitarian wares. Mortuary ceramics are rarely found in village sites, being almost exclusively recovered f r o m tomb/temple site areas. Although secular traits such as house type and utilit a r i a n p o t t e r y d i f f e r d e p e n d i n g u p o n locale, c e r e m o n i a l Dancing figure, rubbing from repousse copper breastplate, Lake Jackson mound, Leon County, Florida, c. AD 1350,11"h., photo courtesy of the Museum of Florida History. Figure 6. life and the material culture which supported it appear to have been shared t h r o u g h o u t the Weeden Island area. Weeden Island ceremonialism is thought to have evolved out of the earlier Yent and Green Point complexes in North Florida and adjacent areas of Alabama and Georgia. 2 There is also evidence of contact with the Lower Mississippi Valley cultures, especially in the panhandle region. Thus, Weeden Island ceremonialism 12 Phoebus 4 % Figure 1. Ceramic effigy bowl, McKeithen mound, Lake City, Florida, c. AD 300 600 , photo courtesy of the Florida State Museum. and s o c i o - p o l i t i c a l o r g a n i z a t i o n were p r o b a b l y influenced to some degree by the diffusion of ideas eastward from the Mississippi Valley. Additionally, direct or indirect ties with Meso America, either trans-gulf or via the Lower Mississippi Valley, are indicated, although during the height of the Weeden Island period contacts with extra-regional spheres of influence appear to have been minimal. During the early phase of development (AD 300600), Weeden Island society appears to have been rather loosely organized, probably into lineages. Within Weeden Island social structure, some kin groups and individuals were regarded as more important and having higher status t h a n others. 3 A good example of this early form of Weeden Island structure is found at the McKeithen site, a burial mound and village complex located in North Central Florida. It is apparent from the distribution of grave goods at the site that some groups had greater control over exotic materials than others. Weak social stratification is present, but power was not centralized. The society did not have the same complexity that was later to manifest itself as Mississippian contacts increased. It is unlikely that Weeden Island society was organized into a chiefdom during the early period, although some individuals — especially those associated with mortuary activity — were apparently awarded special status. Within the ceremonial ceramic tradition associated w i t h Weeden Island, effigy vessels provide the most elaborate examples. Effigy ceramics from the McKeithen site include this unusual bowl excavated from Mound C (Figure 1). McKeithen apparently functioned as a center for mortuary activity and included three mounds. Mound A served as a burial preparation area and storage depository for bone bundles which had been readied for interment. At some point in time — perhaps the death of a lineage head — the bone bundles were placed in a second mound, C, along with caches of mortuary ceramics and other grave goods. Mound C was found to contain at least eighteen Weeden Island ceramic vessels most of which had been buried in the Southeastern quadrant of the mound. The vessel illustrated in Figure 1 is characterized by an unusual group of rim adornos — four inward-facing creatures of which two are thought to represent dogs. One of the remaining effigy heads is in the form of a large-beaked bird. The third mound, B, seems to have served as the base for a structure, likely the residence of the "mortuary specialist." The resident of the structure was interred in a shallow grave dug in the floor of the house. A small log tomb had been constructed over him. The Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 13 Figure 2. Ceramic bird's heads, McKeithen mound, Lake City, Florida, c. AD 300600, Photo courtesy of the Florida State Museum. Figure 3. Double-headed ceramic bird effigy, Washington County, Florida, c. AD 600-900, 8V2" h., photo courtesy of the Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, cat. #17/4875. structure had then been burned and the m o u n d was capped with a covering of earth. Several ceramic bird heads broken off f r o m pottery vessels were interred with the body along with a group of plates each decorated with stylized bird motifs (Figure 2). "It is easy to speculate that the raptorial bird represented on the plates and by the bird-headed effigies was a symbol associated w i t h the house's occupant, the presumed mortuary 'director'/' 4 A number of the vessels found at McKeithen and elsewhere in Weeden Island sites were decorated with cut out patterns and could not have functioned as containers (Figure 3). They seem rather to have been sculptural objects — perhaps serving as incense burners or as guardian figures. Many have pedestaled bases and m i g h t have been arranged in or around the charnal house area, perhaps in a manner similar to that of the ceramic figures which guarded the entrances of early Japanese tombs. 5 At the time thatthe bodies, which had accumulated in the charnal house were to be buried, all ritual items might also have been cleared out and placed in the burial mound. The charnal house was then buried and the m o u n d was capped with a thick layer of sand. During the latter part of the Weeden Island period (c. AD 600-1200), the burial mounds increasingly became tombs for high status individuals. Typical of this latter trend is the major Weeden Island ceremonial site located at K o l o m o k i in S o u t h w e s t e r n Georgia. Kolomoki probably functioned as the focal point for an extensive Weeden Island polity headed by a major chief w h o c o n t r o l l e d t h e lesser c h i e f s a n d v i l l a g e r s w i t h i n his territory. By AD 800 this chiefdom pattern was accompanied by a further elaboration of specialized mortuary ceramics and other exotic grave goods which were interred with high status members of the group. In the N o r t h Florida p a n h a n d l e area the Buck M o u n d , a Weeden Island site near Fort Walton Beach, Florida, provides an example of a later Weeden Island ceremonial area. The ceramic material recovered f r o m the Buck 14 Phoebus 4 Figure 4. Polychrome ceramic effigy figure, Buck mound, Fort Walton Beach, Florida, c. AD 500-800,15" h., photo courtesy of the Temple Mound Museum, cat. #1197. Mound dates from c. AD 600-800.6 Evidence of cremation is present at the site, a practice not unknown within the Weeden Island context. Few human skeletal remains w e r e recovered f r o m the m o u n d , h o w e v e r skeletal material may have been removed from the site by nonprofessional prior excavation. An interesting feature of the Buck Mound was the recovery of the complete skelet o n of a s m a l l d o g w h i c h had been c e r e m o n i a l l y interred. No other dog burials have yet been discovered at Weeden Island sites, but similarities to Meso American practices certainly come to mind. Twenty-three ceramic items were recovered from the Buck Mound including two bird effigies, one representing a vulture, the other an owl. Nearly all of the vessels had been smashed before being interred and most were located in the east side of the mound. The vulture effigy is of buff paste and was painted red. It exhibits incised decoration including an early appearance of the weeping eye motif. The owl effigy is of red clay paste covered with a deep red slip. Incised decorations and zones of white enhance the surface of the vessel. The rounded base isthe remnant of a pedestal. Probably the most spectacular effigy figure yet recovered from a Florida site is a ceramic urn from the Buck Mound (Figure 4). The vessel is fifteen inches high, covered with red paste, and zone-painted in white and black. The face of the vessel has a mask-like appearance, an effect further emphasized by its curious placement with regard to the rest of the body. Meso American analogies once again appear relevant, although regional equivalents have been found at sites from the Lower M i s s i s s i p p i Valley and e l s e w h e r e t h r o u g h o u t the Southeast. By roughly AD 800, the Weeden Island culture had b e g u n to give away to new influences w h i c h w e r e emerging and which were to culminate in the Fort Walton/Pensacola complex. Like many other Southeastern cultures of the period AD 1000-1500, Fort Walton manifests a number of traits reminiscent of those of the Mississippian societies who were responsible for the wellknown ceremonial centers of Moundville in Alabama and Etowah in Georgia. Mississippian traits appeared in Northwest Florida as early as AD 900, and later manifestations are found along the central Gulf Coast around Tampa Bay.7 Until the mid-1970's, most researchers believed that Fort Walton culture represented an intrusion of Mississippian peoples into Northwest Florida. While this model has remained popular, most recent data suggests that Fort Walton probably evolved out of the earlier Weeden Island culture and represented the "Mississippianization" of Weeden Island society rather Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 15 than an intrusion into the area of an alien group of people f r o m outside the region. "Rather than thinking of Weeden Island as a sophisticated local cultural development suddenly chopped off in its prime by Mississippian invaders who established Fort Walton culture, it is more useful and probably more correct to think of it as the b r e a k d o w n of a long-standing adaptive system under the stress of population i n c r e a s e s . . . " 8 and to view the subsequent realignment of local culture along the lines of Mississippian models as an adaptive response to new socio-economic conditions. The reason for the new conditions was probably linked to an increased emphasis on horticultural activity among the peoples of northwest Florida. The Fort Walton culture was characterized by a growing dependence on farming and the concomitant development of more structure and hierarchical institutions of social control which may have involved a shift from a tribal to a more highly structured chieftan level of social organization. 9 Competition for agricultural land, the introduction of new cultigens, and subsequent population increases shared the responsibility for the advent of new cultural patterns. Mississippian influences can be seen in the g r o w t h of larger ceremonial centers which included f l a t - t o p p e d p y r a m i d a l m o u n d s that f u n c t i o n e d as a base for structures associated with religious/political authority. The development of these ceremonial centers indicates a growing political and religious cohesion and a rise in the power of community leaders.10 Kolomoki and other late Weeden Island sites represent the earliest examples of this emergent pattern. While recent data suggests considerable continuity between Weeden Island and Fort Walton culture and probably overrules the earlier view of intrusive Mississippian peoples, it is important to retain an awareness of the distinctive differences which in fact do exist between the t w o periods. One area where these differences are abundantly evident is in ceramic decoration. Like the earlier Weeden Island culture, Fort Walton tomb-temple and cemetery sites often include deposits of special p o t t e r y vessels. These w o r k s are distinguished from utilitarian pottery found in village sites by more careful manufacture and by the use of a variety of incised d e c o r a t i o n s . W h i l e the basic t e c h n i q u e of ceramic manufacture remains relatively constant throughout both periods, changes in the treatment of surface decoration are quite clear. The development of new design motifs and the resurrection of some earlier motifs reflect a significant change in ideology — specifically the shift from Weeden Island burial mound ceremonialism and its specially made mortuary ceramics to 16 Phoebus 4 Fort Walton ceremonial centers with the emphasis on public displays of authoritarian leadership. The growth of a hierarchy and the development of an elite class was accompanied by the manufacture of a variety of specialized paraphernalia designed to reinforce the position of the leaders. Ceremonial ceramics were increasingly one aspect of this o u t w a r d display of affluence and power. As a result of this ideological shift, the purpose of ceramic decoration became less to enhance the religious significance of the artifact and more to enhance the status of the owner/user of the vessel. In accordance with this trend, Fort Walton ceramists relied increasingly on a pre-determined set of design elements which functioned both as decorations and as symbols identifying the vessel's association with members of the ruling elite. Fort Walton ceremonial vessels have been found in a variety of shapes and sizes. The cazuela, a large shall o w b o w l , is one of the m o s t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c f o r m s . Bottles are also prevalent. Additionally, a variety of beakers, jars, and smaller b o w l s have been f o u n d . Noticeably absent from the Fort Walton repertoire are the elaborate pedestaled effigy vessels and the cutout f o r m s w h i c h characterized Weeden Island ceramics. However, several new Fort Walton shapes appeared inc l u d i n g hooded water bottles, six-sided plates, and shallow bowls shaped like seashells. Effigy ceramics with birds, waterfowl, and various animals as subjects continued to be produced, but the forms are generally more conventionally functional than Weeden Island e x a m p l e s , w i t h effigy elements acting p r i m a r i l y as rim adornos. Three surface treatments predominate among Fort Walton examples. A number of vessels were left a natural buff color w i t h incised lines p r o v i d i n g the major decorative element. Some of the vessels were additionally painted with tan or pinkish slip which gave the finished surface a distinctive sheen. (See Appendix). A number of vessels were also fired in a smothered atmosphere to give a dark finish to the pot, whether partially or totally. These vessels were additionally polished to create a glossy surface effect. Some of the most elaborate blackware also includes the use of shell paste as a filler to accentuate incised designs. One of the most beautiful examples of the filler technique is a large shell-shaped bowl from a site near Fort Walton Beach, Florida (Figure 5). Fort Walton effigy ceramics include a greater variety of subjects than earlier Weeden Island examples, but birds continued to be especially represented. Owls and waterfowl are often found as adornos on bowl rims. Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 17 Figure 5. Ceramic bowl, site 8W30, Walton County, Florida, c. AD 1350-1750, 9" d., photo courtesy of the Temple Mound Museum, cat #1265. Less frequently, one finds stylized designs incised on the body of the pot which suggest feathers or wings. While this practice is often seen in Weeden Island ceramic decoration, it is far less frequently employed in Fort Walton styles. Fish, frogs and other water creatures are also used as subjects by Fort Walton potters, along with a range of mammals such as opossum, fox, otter and squirrel. Additionally, the hand/eye motif, conspicuously absent from the Weeden Island design repertoire, makes a reappearance during Fort Walton times and is found, along with a variety of other design elements reminiscent of Meso American decorations, incised by flamboyant ceramic bowls. Besides ceramic goods, artifacts created from other materials were often interred with deceased individuals. Several of the most spectacular examples of copper work in the Southeast were recovered f r o m the Lake Jackson site, a Fort Walton period ceremonial center located in Leon County near Tallahassee, Florida. The pattern of Fort Walton communities seems to reflect the type of political and social hierarchy generally present among other Mississippian cultures. A centralized ceremonial center which served as a focal point for the political/religious structure of an extended polity is typical. Certainly, the Lake Jackson site with its six mounds, a plaza, and an extensive village midden, was such a center. It probably functioned for many years as the major Fort Walton focal point for the surrounding area. Status within the political unit appears to have been symbolized by the use of special costumes and other paraphernalia. Those members of the society who had attained status dressed, at least on ceremonial occasions, in costumes symbolic of their office. As at Etowah or Moundville, such s y m b o l i c costumes included copper and shell ornaments. Calvin Jones of the Florida Division of Archives, History and Records Management, directed the 1976-77 excavations of the site and has recently published a s u m m a r y of his findings. Jones's excavations reveal that the individuals buried in the tombs had been inter- 18 Phoebus 4 red wearing their costumes and with other paraphernalia s y m b o l i c of their high rank. Repousse copper breast plates were found on several individuals (Figure 6). Fabric, preserved by the copper and adhering to the backs of some plates, evidently supported the plates while worn. All of the plates recovered by Jones were made f r o m copper nuggets and that had been coldhammered into thin sheets, riveted together, and then embossed with dancing figures. 11 The figures represented on the copper plates are similarto those found on shell and copper ornaments at Etowah, Moundville, and elsewhere in the Southeast. Each figure is wearing a falcon mask, an elaborate headdress with a bilobed arrow motif, and a pointed pouch hung f r o m the waist. The figures are further outfitted with a feathered cape and each holds a mace or baton in the right hand. The bodies of the costumed figures are decorated with stripes and patterns as though to imply body painting or tattooing. A variety of beads, large shell amulets, and other paraphernalia characteristic of the Southeastern Ceremonial Complex is evident. Gerald Milanich ofthe University of Florida writes: The f i g u r e s on the plates may represent a diety symbolized by the chiefs themselves. Several pounds of columella beads and a shell gorget incised with a dancing figure accompanied the Lake Jackson burial. Copper belts found in different burials were probably hafted in wooden handles carved in the form of woodpecker heads like the clubs found atSpiro, a Mississippian site in Oklahoma. 12 Clearly, the Lake Jackson material serves to indicate that the Mississippian patterns evident at Spiro, Etowah and elsewhere in the Southeast extended into Florida where major ceremonial centers participated in a network of highly evolved religious/political organization. Wood provided still another material for explorat i o n by p r e h i s t o r i c Florida artisans. Unfortunately, wood decomposes very quickly in Florida's moist, warm climate. However, a few spectacular examples are extent, preserved only because they were buried in thick mud at Key Marco, an island off the lower west coast of the state. Wooden artifacts were probably c o m m o n t h r o u g h o u t the Southeast. Early European explorers described the presence of carved w o o d e n birds and other creatures which were mounted on temple roofs or c a r r i e d on p o l e s d u r i n g c e r e m o n i a l o c c a s i o n s . 1 3 Remnants of wooden birds and animal sculptures recovered from Fort Center and other Central Florida sites further attest to the tradition of w o o d carving which must have been very much a part of the pre-contact inventory of ceremonial artifacts. The Key Marco site is Grave Goods of the Florida Elite Figure 7. Woodpecker effigy, w/c of painted wooden tablet, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 1450-1500, 67 cm h., photo courtesy of the Florida State Museum, cat. #40697. 19 not a burial m o u n t per se. However, J o h n G o g g i n , among others, has referred to the area as a ceremonial site and certainly the quantity of specialized paraphernalia recovered from the place confirms that Key Marco was indeed a focal point for extensive ceremonial activity over an extended period of time. 14 It is somewhat diff i c u l t to establish an exact date for the Key Marco material. Most scholars originally assigned a very late date of c. AD 1550-1600 to the site. More recently, the dates have been revised back to c. 1450-1500 on the basis of the presence of trade pieces from northern Fort Walton cultures and the fact that no evidence of historic material has been recovered f r o m the site. Whatever the date of the artifacts, the Key Marco site was apparently abandoned hastily sometime in the latter part of the fifteenth century due either to some natural disaster or to a surprise attack by unfriendly visitors. Structures in the area were burned and the artifacts were found scattered about as t h o u g h they had been left behind during a quick retreat. The w o o d e n masks, tablets, and sculptures recovered from Key Marco were carved from several different kinds of wood including cypress, pine and mangrove. 15 Shell and stone tools were used along w i t h shark-tooth adzes. Many of the surfaces of the artifacts were finely finished and indicate a sophisticated polishing technique. Decorative incisions were done w i t h hafted shark-tooth knives. A number of wooden plaques and tablets were recovered from Key Marco. Frank Cushing, who directed the original excavation in 1896, described at least ten or twelve decorated specimens, but only a few are still in suitable condition to be of artistic interest. One of these is a painted wooden tablet now in the collection of the Florida State Museum. The pigment has faded, but the original image of what is believed to be a large woodpecker is still clearly visible (Figure 7). This lively, graceful painting with its strong outlines and decorative, patterned surface testifies in the verve and vigor with which the artist approached the subject. Cushing wrote of the tablet: There were certain.. .touches of an especially symbolic n a t u r e in p o r t i o n s o f t h i s p i c t o r i a l f i g u r e . . .It w i l l be o b s e r v e d . . .not only that a considerable k n o w l e d g e . . . was possessed by the p r i m i t i v e artist w h o made this painting, but also that he attempted to show the deific character of the bird he represented by placing upon the broad black bank beneath the bird's talons.. .the characteristic animal of the keys, the raccoon; by placing the symbol or insignia of his domain over the water — in the form of a double-bladed paddle — upright under the bird's wing; and to show his dominion over the four quarters of 20 Phoebus 4 the sea and island w o r l d . . .by placing the four circles or word signs, as if issuing from his m o u t h . . .as is so often the case with similar representation of mythologic beings in t h e a r t of c o r r e s p o n d i n g l y d e v e l o p e d p r i m i t i v e peoples. 16 Figure 8. Dolphin tablet, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 1450-1500, photo courtesy of the Florida State Museum, cat. #40682. A second tablet, now extremely deteriorated but seen here in a watercolor by Wells Sawyer, an artist who accompanied the Cushing expedition, portrayed a leaping dolphin and exhibits the same exuberant and graceful handling evident in the woodpecker painting (Figure8). A number of wooden masks were also recovered from the site. Most appear to represent various humanlike forms, possible heroic figures or mythological beings. A few have animal characteristics. Frequently, the features of the being are distorted — noses elongated, mouths twisted, eyes dissimilar in size and shape. Most masks are painted with stripes, triangular shapes and circular forms. Some were originally inlaid with shell. Unfortunately, most of the masks have disintegrated, but again Sawyer's watercolors provide a record of these mysterious and beautiful works (Figure 9). Several three-dimensional figurines and figureheads of animals were found, the most well-known of these being an elegant small sculpture of a cat or a human costumed as a cat or panther (Figure 10). "Although it is barely six inches in height," Cushing wrote, "its dignity of pose may fairly be termed heroic, and its .. .lines are to the last degree masterly." 17 Marion Gilliland, whose book The Material culture of Key Marco Florida provides the first comprehensive study of the Key Marco artifacts, writes, "This specimen resembles more closely ancient Eqyptian or Babylonian art than any other specimen so far found in America." 1 8 Once again, the elegance of line and the feeling for graceful form so evident in the painted tablets are here obvious inthethree-dimensional media. Similarly, the roughly life-sized head of a pelican which was found along with fragments of wing pieces and must originally have been part of a sculptural repre- Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 23 Figure 9. Effigy mask, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 14501500, photo courtesy of the Smithsonian Institute. Figure 10. Wooden effigy figure, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 1450-1500, 6" h., photo courtesy of the Smithsonian Institute, cat. #240915. 22 Phoebus 4 Figure 11. Wooden pelican head, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 1400,10 cm h., photo courtesy of the Florida State Museum, cat #40708. Figure 12. Wooden sea-turtle head, Key Marco, Florida, c. AD 1400,16 cm. 1., photo courtesy of the Smithsonian Institute, cat #40715. Grave Goods of the Florida Elite 23 sentation of an entire bird, exhibits an exquisite appreciation for the subject and a masterful handling of the wood medium (Figure 11). Other sculptures represent a variety of creatures including wolves, alligators, turtles and deer. A finely carved life-size sculpture of a beaked sea turtle was originally elaborately painted in black, white and red (Figure 12). The eyes are carved so that they project outward from the head which serves to enhance the threedimensional quality of the image. The heraldic sculptural masks and figureheads from the Northwest Coast come to mind in searching for analogies with this exciting work. Several of the sculptural works were equipped w i t h m o v a b l e masks f r o m t h e A r c t i c and t h e Northwest Coast seem appropriate. The effective naturalism of the subject testimony to the high degree of sophistication found in these Florida works. Altogether, ceremonial artifacts created by the early inhabitants of the state — whether in wood, metal, of clay — provide a most impressive inventory of artistic production and one which is only beginning to receive the attention and study which it so richly deserves. Lee Anne Wilson Visual Imagery and Social Change It seems logical that when humans choose animals as main characters in folklore and mythology they have done so for a reason. Often times it is because of a specific behavior pattern, habitat, or physical characteristic that sets the animal apart and suggests a certain mythological role for that animal to play. For example, birds fly through the air, therefore it becomes natural for them to become dwellers of the upper world. However, a deeper analysis of the major characteristics of frequently represented images in contrast to those which occur less frequently suggests that artistic images represent idealized social traditions. In his article, "Art Styles as Cultural Cognitive Maps," 1 the anthropologist John Fischer contends that social conditions are determinants of art styles and further suggests that the art forms of a culture reflect either real or imagined social situations that give pleasure or security to the community. He believes that it is important to ask, "Why do these people notice items A and B and ignore items C and D in their environment?" 2 Utilizing Fischer's approach as part of a study of Precolumbian Panamanian ceramics, Olga Linares3 discovered that despite the variety of flora and fauna found in this geographic area, only certain species were represented on the pottery with any regularity, implying that these Precolumbian artists deliberately chose to depict specific types of animals and not others. Analyzing those animals repeatedly depicted on the ceramics, she found that they have certain characteristics in common: they are " r e p e l l e n t ; . . . d a n g e r o u s ; . . . have hard body p a r t s ; . . . ' c h a r g e ' ; . . . have a 'pinch' or ' s t i n g ' . . .are c r y p t i c . . .eat people; . . .or are predatory." 4 She also found that the animals not represented generally had soft body parts, were vulnerable to attack, or were eaten. Using Fischer's proposition that art styles represent real or fantasized social situations, Linares concludes that: . . .the central Panamanian art style was centered on a rich symbolic system using animal motifs metaphorically Visual Imagery and Social Change 25 to express the qualities of aggression and hostility that characterized the social and political life of this and later periods in the central provinces. 5 Figure 1. Incised shell gorget from Illinois depicting a spider. Field Museum of Natural History, Chicago. Photograph by author. Thus, the types of plants and animals represented, the frequency w i t h which they occur, and their major characteristics allow inferences to be drawn about both the social conditions as well as the psychological attitudes of the people who created and used these visual images. This type of analysis can also be applied to archaeological remains in North America. For example, a study of the animals represented on Southern Cult artifacts from the southeastern United States between 1200 and AD 1350 reveals a preponderance of certain animals over others, suggesting that the Southern Cult artists intentionally chose to depict certain types of animals and not others. The list of animals known in Mississippian times includes various species of birds, mammals, and fish, yet only certain forms appear periodically as motifs on such items as shell engravings, stone tablets, incised ceramics, copper plaques, and wooden artifacts. For example, the f o l l o w i n g animals were hunted and used as foodstuffs in Southern Cult times: white-tailed deer, buffalo, black bear, rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, opossum, wild turkey, passenger pigeons, and various types of waterfowl. In addition, certain water animals such as the alligator, sea cow, and occassionally even the whale were also hunted as well as such fish as catfish, sturgeon, pike, shad, bass, perch, sunfish, and mullet. 6 Comparing this list to the animals, animal-human, and animal-animal composite figures found on Southern Cult artifacts, especially the incised shell work, reveals s o m e i m p o r t a n t c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s as w e l l as dichotomies. Of the list of animals, birds, and fish used as foodstuffs, only the turkey, passenger pigeon, pileated woodpecker, raccoon, and a generalized fish form can be identified with any certainty as appearing on the shell w o r k , and even t h e n they appear very infrequently. Significantly none of the animals used as foodstuffs appear on Southern Cult objects in any great numbers. Instead, many of the most frequently-appearing animals seem to have been the predators instead of the prey, or at least to have had such predator characteristics as sharp claws, beaks, teeth, or pincers. One frequently depicted animal is a snake, generally a rattlesnake shown either with large fangs or obvious rattle, or both. Spiders, usually shown with enlarged pincers are also regularly depicted (fig. 1). Birds of prey, most likely 26 Phoebus 4 Figure 2. Drawing of incised shell design from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma depicting a fanged feline with rattlesnake tail and bird claws. Approximate size: 10 to 12 inches. Stovall Museum, University of Oklahoma, Norman. Drawing by author. a Figure 3. Drawing of incised shell gorget from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma depicting a bird-man. Approximate size: 63A by 41/2 inches. University of Arkansas Museum, Fayetteville: 37-1-5. Reconstructed drawing by author. hawks or falcons, are usually depicted with prominent beaks and large talons. In addition, various long-tailed felines, generally shown with extra-long incisors, sharp claws, or both, are also illustrated. Besides individual animal representations, various combinations of these animals are found (fig. 2), as well as an anthropomorphized animal form, and a human costumed to represent this anthopomorphic form. Although this latter possibility can be demonstrated for f e l i n e - h u m a n and snake-human c o m b i n a t i o n s , it is especially evident with the bird-man image where one bird-man type always has feathered wings in place of arms (fig. 3), while the second type has both arms as w e l l as w i n g s that seem to sprout f r o m the figures shoulder blades, similar to the wings of angels in Christian art (fig. 4).7 A similar typology can also be made for the human-feline and human-snake images. For example, both an anthropomorphic feline with a human head and joints (see fig. 2), as well as a human wearing a feline mask appear (fig. 5) on Southern Cult shell engravings. In addition, both a rattlesnake with a human head (fig. 6) as well as humans wearing capes made of rattlesnake skins (fig. 7) are also depicted. In addition, these human-animal images (especially t h e b i r d - m a n f i g u r e ) m a y be r e l a t e d t o t h e archaeological context from which many of the objects were recovered. While all three major Southern Cult sites (Etowah, Georgia; M o u n d v i l l e , A l a b a m a ; and Visual Imagery and Social Change Figure 4. Drawing of incised shell from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma depicting an individual wearing a bird costume. Approximate size: 6V2 by 8 inches. United States National Museum, Smithsonian Institution, Museum of Natural History, Washington, D.C.: 448825,448861. Drawing by author. -mmx 27 28 Phoebus 4 Figure 5. Drawing of incised shell from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma depicting a human wearing a feline mask. Approximate length: 12V2 in. Museum of American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York: 18/9310. Figure 6. Drawing of incised shell from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma depicting a rattlesnake with a janus-head. Approximate size: 7V2 by 12" University of Arkansas Museum, Fayetteville: 37-1-32. Spiro Mound, Oklahoma) contain elaborate burials with large amounts of grave goods, a series of graves excavated at the sites of Etowah and Spiro Mound rev e a l e d a g r o u p of h u m a n s w h o had been b u r i e d wearing elements of the bird-man costume as depicted on various objects, especially the repousse copper plaques and e n g r a v e d shells. These b i r d - m a n burials appear to have reflected an elaborately stratified society with the bird-man burials presumably reserved for those individuals with high status. 8 Most importantly, all of these animals, whether depicted singly, in composite forms, or as anthropomorphic creatures, have certain characteristics in common. All are carnivorous predators. All strike swiftly often catching their prey unawares. All have some sort of sharp teeth, fangs, pincers, beak or claws. The repeated use of these particular motifs, especially in combination with the anthropomorphic forms representing individuals of high rank, suggests that the Southern Cult artists deliberately chose specific animal motifs that conveyed concepts of ferocity, boldness, aggression, and hostility. Since the Southern Cult elite probably maintained their position of authority by the use of force. 9 Southern Cult artists may have intentionally used specific motifs as costume elements designed to reinforce those behavi o r a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s i m p o r t a n t to t h e c o n t i n u e d hegemony of the elite. Other similar uses of this type of analysis may help us identify social changes. For example, Anasazi ceramics are predominately composed of geometric motifs during the Pueblo I, II and III periods in contrast to their n e i g h b o r s ' , the Hohokam and M o g o l l o n , use of life forms. However, between the years AD 1200 and 1600, or the latter half of Pueblo III (AD 1100 to 1300) and all of Pueblo IV (AD 1300 to 1550/1600) several d r a m a t i c changes occurred in Anasazi ceramics, including the introduction of life forms on polychrome or black-onred or black-on-orange wares. Both these shifts appear to have had important meanings forthe prehistoric Pueblo Indians. While the shift towards the use of red and Visual Imagery and Social Change 29 Figure 7. Drawing of incised shell from Spiro Mound, Oklahoma illustrating human figures wearing rattlesnake capes with a horned rattlesnake below their feet. Approximate length: 121/2 in. Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York: 18/9083. polychrome wares may have been associated with a ritual shift towards fertility and a plentiful water supply,10 an analysis of the life forms employed may also provide information aboutthe nature of this change. Studying just the animal forms found on prehistoric Hopi pottery from Sikyatki, dated from approximately AD 1425 to 1650 suggests some interesting parallels. The major faunal forms depicted on this ceramic ware include lizards (fig. 8), snakes, tadpoles, frogs or toads (fig. 9), birds (fig. 10), butterflies (fig. 11) and sometimes dragonflies (fig. 9). As with the animals depicted on the Southern Cult objects, these animals are basically not used as foodstuffs. However, the most important characteristic shared by these animals or insects is their ability to change their form, alter their shape, or go through some other major metamorphosis. For example, lizards in the Southwest hibernate in the ground for the major part of winter. The snake sheds its skin periodically to emerge w i t h its most brilliant coloration. Tadpoles c h a n g e c o m p l e t e l y t o b e c o m e f r o g s , j u s t as m o t h s a n d butterflies start life as caterpillars, f o r m cocoons or chrysalises, and finally emerge in the form of a moth or butterfly. Dragonflies go through a similar larval stage and metamorphsis before reaching adulthood. Birds, admittedly have the most tenuous forms of metamorphosis, but do hatch from eggs as unfeathered, reptilian-looking creatures. In addition, some species, such as eagles, undergo rather pronounced color changes in 30 Phoebus 4 Figure 10. Sikyatki polychrome bowl depicting bird or bird-insect combination. Photograph courtesy of the University of Colorado Museum, Boulder. Figure 8. Sikyatki polychrome bowl illustrating lizard-like creature. Private Collection. Figure 9. Sikyatki polychrome bowl illustrating the transformation of a tadpole to a frog flanked by two dragonflies. Photograph courtesy of the University of Colorado Museum, Boulder. Figure 11. Sikyatki polychrome bowl illustrating a butterfly. Photograph courtesy of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Visual Imagery and Social Change 31 their development f r o m hatchling to adult. This suggests that each of these animals was selected for its ability to appear as if newly reborn after a rather drastic change in its coloration, form or metabolism. In the past it has generally been thought that those images occurring on Sikyatki pottery were associated with water and therefore fertility. While tadpoles, frogs, and dragonflies do appear in watery contexts, both snakes and lizards are desert dwellers in the Southwest and none of the birds that can be identified with any certainty appear to be water birds or found associated with a watery habitat. This suggests that these animals may have been depicted for completely different reasons. One suggestion is that Anasazi culture itself was a culture undergoing a series of changes brought about by overuse of the land, climatic shifts, and a drying up of the water table. Since each of the animals represented was able to adapt to a changing environment or season by a change within itself, these animals may have reassured the Pueblos that they, too, could successfully adapt to the changed environment caused by drought and over-cultivation. Louis A. Hieb The Language of Dance: Communicative Dimensions of Hopi Katsina Dances* The ethnographic focus of this paper is the "katsina dance" — as it is popularly known — which is regularly performed in all Hopi villages during the spring and early summer. The katsina dance is a complex ritual performance and will be described in detail. However, since the concern of this paper is to make a contribution to the cross-cultural understanding of a dance performance, it will be useful to provide the analytic/descriptive perspective first. The analytic/descriptive perspective is concerned to illuminate the ways in w h i c h the katsina dance is meaningful as contrasted, for example, to functions it serves. The appropriate question here is "how?" rather than "why?". To this end, the "dance" will be regarded as a language. E d m u n d Leach has s u g g e s t e d t h a t "almost every human activity that takes place in culturally d e f i n e d s u r r o u n d i n g s . . .has a technical aspect which does something and an aesthetic, communicative aspect which says something." 1 How dance "says s o m e t h i n g " involves looking at the katsina performance from a semiotic point of view; that is, as an act of c o m m u n i c a t i o n i n v o l v i n g the existence of m u l t i p l e codes and the processes of encoding and decoding. 2 As a s y m b o l i c m e d i u m of c o m m u n i c a t i o n , l a n g u a g e involves two fundamental aspects, "code" and "message." By code is meant the system of elements, and rules for combining them through which meanings are encoded, c o m m u n i c a t e d and understood. Message, then, is the specific speech act or linguistic communication conveying particular meanings. This perspective is that of Roman Jakobson whose model for human communication will serve as a frameworkthrough which the communicative dimensions of the Hopi katsina dance will the described. 3 Jakobson's structuralist perspective on language provided a basis for that of Claude LeviStrauss. Levi-Strauss suggests that no one creates absolutely, that the underlying logical structures of all h u m a n i n s t i t u t i o n s (kinship, m y t h , art, systems of classification, etc.) are constrained by certain "invariant laws of l o g i c " w h i c h he locates in the unconscious. The Language of Dance 33 Included in these invariants are notions like opposition, homology, inversion. As his essay on "The Bear and the Barber" makes clear, Levi-Strauss sees clan and caste as t w o possible types of social organization manifested out of a range of possibilities all of which are (theoretically) possible for any society but which are also constrained by history and environment. 4 Levi-Strauss may be the ultimate materialist for — in later writings — he sees these structures as being located in the physiology of the human mind. The structuralist perspective is not, however, a search for 'mental universals' but is rather a comparative technique concerned to account for similarities and differences in collective phenomena (in a way distinctly different from the frameworks or explanations offered by evolutionary theories or diffusion). The most f u n d a m e n t a l element in these logical structures is opposition. Oppositions are the basis out of which more complex logical systems are constructed. It is this one idea which will be carried forward into our consideration of the Hopi katsina dance. The notion of opposition or contrast is basic to discrimination and meaning. As N. S. Trubetzkoy said: "Distinctiveness . . . t h a t is, t h e c a p a c i t y of d i f f e r e n t i a t i n g meaning. . .presupposes the concept of opposition." 5 Meaning can and must be stated in terms of identifications and d i s c r i m i n a t i o n s , 6 of relations of s i m i l a r i t y and opposition. Meaning implies choice, and where there is no choice, there is no meaning. The meaning of a word in use is not something attached to a particular lexical item, a particular sound complex. Rather, it is defined by contrasting it w i t h all other words which might have been e m p l o y e d instead. On a street or highway, red does not signify stop, except by means of a systematic opposition to green and yellow. More frequently, however, the contrast is not immediately apprehendable as, for example, the choices of tense and number in the declension of a verb. The contrast or opposition sometimes takes place unconsciously, sometimes across time and space.7 What is important is this: it is the critical differences developed through relations of similarity and o p p o s i t i o n w i t h other elements of a s y m b o l system which constitute the distinctive — that is, the meaningful— i n f l e x i o n . M e a n i n g is d e r i v e d f r o m t h e internal relations between the parts of the system, rather than by reference to some external source. From this observation may be derived a number of questions — indeed a methodological stance — for viewing dance in ritual and for illuminating its symbolic richness. Jakobson has also provided a useful outline of the elements involved in human communication. In his language these are "the constitutive factors in any speech 34 Phoebus 4 event, in any act of communication: The Addresser sends a Message to the Addressee. To be operative the message requires a Context referred to [and] seizable by the a d d r e s s e e . . . ; a Code fully, or at least partially, c o m m o n to the addresser and the addressee (or in other words, to the encoder and the decoder of the message); and, finally, a Contact, a physical channel and psychological connection between the addresser and the addressee, enabling both of them to enter and stay in communication. 8 These factors may be schematized as follows: Context Message Addresser Addressee Contact Code Jakobson's model can be applied in a simplified fashion - to the Hopi katsina dance, the key elements of which aresummarized in thefollowingfigure: Hopi Culture Context Hopi World View Hopi Ritual Calendar Message Addresser Katsina Verbal Addressee Hopi people Contact Visual Exchange Codes Linguistic, Dress Music, Dance, Other ritual paraphernalia = use of color, number, space, symbols: feathers, clouds, corn, etc. The Katsina Dance There are two series of Katsina dances performed annually. In January, after the end of the Soyal or winter solstice ceremony, each of the kivas prepares a series of masked dances. They occur only in the kivas at night, but one group of katsinas appears in each kiva so that as many as twelve different kinds of katsina are seen in the course of a single night. During the winter months there may be three or four night dances. In April, May and June the katsinas come to the plaza to dance. Generally, only one kind of katsina appears but they dance all day The Language of Dance 35 long, on two succeeding days, and the number of performers is much greater. They are usually three or four dances of this type culminating in the Niman or Home Dance. These are feast days and t h r o n g s of visitors comefrom othervillagesandfrom off-reservation. Context The contexts of the katsina dance are many. However, the many elements w h i c h comprise the katsina dance are — in Roy Wagner's words — "meaningful to us only through their associations, which they acquire t h r o u g h being associated w i t h or o p p o s e d to one another in all sorts of contexts." 9 The contexts of the katsina dance include all those things which constitute the Hopi culture (language, food, dress, values, norms, etc.) but especially the ritual calendar and the Hopi's "world view." Since the katsina dances of the spring and early summer also include clowns and clowning (clown ceremony, tsuku/a/wa),™ the moral choices presented by the larger cultural context off-reservation are also relevant. If the katsina dance is defined in part by its context in time — in the ritual calendar, it is also defined by its spatial context — its performance in the village plaza. At the personal level, various myths and memories inform the Hopi's perception of the dance. World View One of the basic premises of Hopi life is a conception of a world which is bipartite in structure. There is: "a dual d i v i s i o n of t i m e and space between an upper world of the living and the lower world of the dead. This is expressed in the description of the sun's journey on its daily rounds. The Hopi believe that the sun has t w o entrances, variously referred to as houses, homes or kivas, situated at each extremity of its course. In the morning the sun is supposed to emerge from its eastern house and in the evening it is said to descend into its western home. During the night the sun must travel underground from west to east in order to arise at its accustomed place the next day. Hence day and night are reversed in the upper and lower worlds." 1 1 Life and death, day and night, summer and winter are seen not simply as opposed but involved in a system of alternation and continuity — indeed a fundamental consubstantiality. Death is birth into a new world and many Hopi burial practices parallel those of birth except that four black lines of charcoal separate a dead person from his home in the village while four white lines of corn meal markthe walls of a new born baby's homes.12 This world and the world of the spirits are transformations of each other. At death a cotton mask, a "white 36 Phoebus 4 cloud mask/' 13 is placed on the face of the dead person. All katsinas are believed to take on cloud form, to be cloud people, and their substance (nava/a) is liquid which is manifested as rainfall. Navala means "spirit substance." The Hopi do not say, "I am of the same flesh and blood as my parents." Rather, "I am the liquid substance of my fathers." Navala is, also, the Hopi's "selfsubstance." Thus, when the katsinas (as masked ritual figures) depart, they are petitioned, "when you return to your homes bring this message to them that, without delay, they may have mercy on us with their liquid substance (i.e., the rains) so that all things may grow and life may be bountiful." Everything, in Hopi thought, is d e p e n d e n t on rainfall w h i c h , w h e n c o m b i n e d w i t h "mother earth," is the substance of all things. Through this combination and subsequent transformation into corn, the blessings (the gifts) of the katsinas (their navala) become the substance of " o u r " bodies (our navala). In sum, there is again an essential consubstantiality in the bipartite structure of the Hopi universe which relates cotton masks and clouds, the living and the dead, rain and life. The Ritual Calendar The Hopi ritual calendar is divided into two halves, pivoting at the summer and winter solstices. One half of the year involves "priestly" activities which consist, in large part, of prayers and prayer offerings (prestations) to the spirit world. The other half consists of activities surrounding the presence of the katsinas in this world. The katsinas are "messengers of the gods" and, according to A. M. Stephen, the literal translation of the word is "a sitter." Thus, "the katsina is one who comes to sit and listen to the petitions of the people" 14 and brings them assurances that t h e i r prayers have been heard. On these ritual occations, the Hopis "feed" the katsinas with prayer offerings and the masked dancers reciprocate with gifts of food. Addresser Analytically the katsinas are the addressers and the Hopi people are the addressees. However, "communication" (and exchange) takes place in both directions and the total performance is quite complex. Briefly, the public aspects of the katsina dance may be outlined as follows. In a predawn appearance in the village plaza the katsinas are heard singing. In an encounter with the village "priestly" representative — the "father of the katsinas" (katsinum naamu) — the dancers are invited to return during the day to sing, dance, and make the people's hearts glad. And so it is that throughout the two The Language of Dance 37 day duration of the "dances/' the katsinum are lead to the plaza (ideally) four t i m e s before lunch and four times after (but usually six to eight). In their songs, dance movements and attire the katsinas embody the fundamental symbols of the Hopi world view (see under Code). These "beautiful creatures/' "the creator's messengers" represent in their solemn manner all that is " s a c r e d " to the Hopi. In contrast, the earth-colored clown priests (tsuchkut) w h o first appear in the early afternoon are conceived to be playing mythically ordained roles t h r o u g h which they show in their being and behavior the "faults of mankind." Thus, alternating with the katsinas, the clowns — as practical ethicists — act out a drama in which "life as it should not be" is held up to the judgement of laughter, and various forms of un-Hopi (kaHopi) behavior are displayed in humorous fashion. Other masked figures (piptukum) appear to the clowns and present "skits" in which still other examples of kaHopi behavior are presented. And finally still other masked figures — various warrior katsinas — punish the clownsfortheir behavior. Given the dominance of their role, the katsinas will be regarded as "addressers." The ma 'lo katsina has been a popular katsina for impersonation at outdoor dances. It is sometimes called "stick katsina" because of the staff he carries in his left hand. The leather case mask is painted red and blue (or green) with a tubular mouth. At one side of the mask is a squash blossom ("his flower"), a "convention of colored yarns w o u n d around stems radiating from a solid stamen/' 1 5 and at the other side two eagle tail feathers with a tuft of red hair. The ruff (collar) is of douglas fir. The body may be painted "any common katsina style" although Stephen says they are "the cloud colors of the cardinal directions." In another description of the ma'to katsina, Stephen says this use of color "may be called chromic prayer, as it is definitely regarded as an appeal to the clouds at the four directions to hasten with rain to the Hopi land." 16 The red sash over the right shoulder, the kilt, sash and belt around the waist and the usually green moccasins are all common attire. A gourd rattle held in the right hand, a tortous shell rattle worn on the right leg and bells worn on the left contribute to the complex rythms of the katsina's songs. All distinct elements of form and content which comprise the mask are named and in themselves derive their significance from a variety of expressive media or codes used to give symbolic articulation to fundamental elements of the Hopi w o r l d view. This conception includes a complex system of correspondences which relates space, color and number into one paradigmatic statement of order. The colors of the katsina — yellow, 38 Phoebus 4 blue, red and white — are the colors associated with the f o u r directions. The e y e b r o w is a conventionalized representation of the cloud (and indeed it is called o'mauwu, cloud). Beneath it is the eye, of which Stephen records: The eye of the kachina (any kachina?) is the seed of all plants, hence the seed of any plant is its eye (bo'shi), and a p p r o p r i a t e l y the e y e b r o w becomes a cloud over the seed, in position to pour down rain and start germination. The eye is. . .specifically spoken of as seed of cotton, beans, m u s k m e l l o n . . . These seeds are chewed producing a black pigment, the color of the Above. The two black tipped eagle feathers on the top of the mask case represent the Below, the region of all color. Of the mouth, Stephen writes: (It is) an ear of corn, partly perforated and with open slits through which the personator emits his song-prayer. The c o m m o n c o n v e n t i o n o f a c o r n ear is n e a r l y a f a c s i m i l e o f the natural object, but in this katsina it is modified in that only its cylindric form is retained to indicate its prototype. Because, Su'yuky says, with customary logical iteration, through the mouth comes prayers, not only for corn, but for all other essentials, hence the corn ear should not be too specially manifest. 17 Stephen continues recording similar statements regarding the ma'lo katsina's staff, its song, etc. The sixfold division of color and space is not simply a matter of cultural convention but has important natural motivation for the Hopi as well.(Fig. 1) According to another early observer of the Hopi,"at least ninety per- The Language of Dance 39 cent of t h e v e g e t a b l e f o o d e a t e n . . . is m a d e from corn." 18 Hopi corn is yellow, blue, red, white, black and sweet (katsina corn). To the Hopi, corn is their "mother" for "they live on and draw life from the corn as the child draws life from its mother." 19 A second basic source of f o o d is beans. A c c o r d i n g to Stephen, the " o l d t i m e beans of the Hopi seem to b e . . .yellow, blue, red, white, black, speckled. . ." 2 0 Hopi dependence on corn has decreased since the 19th century but corn remains a meaningful symbol of life, it substance and that which sustains it. Color is a code used culturally for the expression of significant distinctions in the Hopi conception or construction of moral space as it is or was with all native American peoples. The behavior of the katsinas is a dynamic expression of w h a t is " s a i d " in their appearance or being. Songs, dance step and m o v e m e n t s , musical instruments — all produce a co-articulate expression. The meaning of the f o l l o w i n g katsina song should be at least partially apparent: Who is good of heart and brave as the Katcinas Let their breath (prayers) be with them. No rain the clouds give us. Where have our crops gone? The stars are the cloud guides; bring the clouds this way. Come here clouds, bring yourthunderandlightning. Come together with the hearts and strength of the Katcinas. The Katcinas have come, why come not the clouds? Take heart and come; come with yourthunderand lightning. No rain has reached the roots, the corn is wilted. Come clouds together and smile, let the rain come. Good now, listen! Hear us, Omau! Smile upon us. Listen to our brave Katcinas. Send new life to our corn. Good now, listen! What do the stars say to the clouds? With you the rain is sitting, so the stars say. Over there, away from us, where have the clouds gone? From our crops they have carried the rain, The grass is parched and matted to the earth. We would be happy if the rain would come.21 Addressee In this simplified view, the "addressees" are the audience — the Hopis and others — who see and hear the message of the katsinas, who make prayer offerings to them and, in turn, receive their gifts. Code Color, number, and use of space, fundamental symbols (feathers, clouds, corn, etc.) are all mediums for the expression of the Hopi's conception of their world, what it is and what it ought to be. The codes are at once aes- 40 Phoebus 4 thetic and logical, moral and ontological. Both verbal and visual, the katsina's codes require the involvement of several sensoral channels at once (visual, auditory and tactile). This is not an empty redundancy but an existentially rich and meaningful performance. Message The songs of the katsinas are affirmations of life, confirmations that the prayers of the Hopis have been heard and their prayer offerings received and ultimately statements of the interdependence of the Hopis and the w o r l d s of n a t u r e a n d of t h e s p i r i t s . D u r i n g t h e afternoons, when the greatest number of Hopis are in attendance, particularly good composition are sung. Forexample: My mothers and my fathers Remember in the old days, in times past, The steady rain came from down below, As it came, the water settled in your fields And the calls of the waterfowl and the creatures of the water— Their calls sounded beautiful in the land. And then your crops grew and the whole land blossomed. If you rememberto do the things you did then, The cloud will appear from the below And the rains will come again. Then the whole land will bloom And there will be a happy land. The final song of the dance recalls the events of the first e n c o u n t e r of t h e f a t h e r of t h e k a t s i n a s w i t h t h e katsinum: Remember my father You spoke to us when we came That we should be together until the run reached the house in the west. Then it would be time for us to return. You must make a path for us with your corn meal over which we shall return with your prayers and your offerings. And bring your message to the Cloud people so that then They may come and bring the rains And life will be renewed. Contact The final element to be considered in Jakobson's model of human communication is the notion of contact. In his view this involves "a physical channel and The Language of Dance 41 psychological connection between the addresser and the addressee, enabling both of them to enter and stay in communication." Much has already been said of the verbal and visual channnels of c o m m u n i c a t i o n involved in the katsina dance. However, there is one other essential e l e m e n t : the n o t i o n of r e c i p r o c i t y or exchange. Throughout the dance the Hopi people or their representative — the father of the katsinas — "feeds" the masked dancers with corn meal, sacred corn meal. The katsinas, in turn, bring gifts — boxes of fruits, vegetables, breads, candies, etc. — which are given to the people. Reciprocity involves, according to Levi-Strauss, the unconscious principle of the obligation to give, the o b l i g a t i o n to receive and the o b l i g a t i o n to give in return.22 As H. R. Voth noted, "It is the supposition that the spirits of the departed [i.e., the katsinas] come and get the food and the prayer feathers, or rather the hikosi (breath, essence, soul of these objects." 23 Because the dead "eat only the odor or soul of the food," the dead are not heavy. "And that is the reason why the clouds into which the dead are transformed are not heavy and can float in the air." 24 While one purpose of ritual in this world involved a contribution to the well-being of the spirit world, the spirit world is obligated to contribute to the well-being of this world by providing rain which is essential to the crops and hence to the health of the Hopis (and all living things of this world). Rain is the most c o m m o n request in Hopi prayer, however the "gift," "blessing," or "benefit" (nahmangwu) 25 may take other forms. So the contact is not just visual and verbal but involves an obligation whose meaning is life itself. The dance of the katsinas can be viewed as art. To Hopis, however, the dance both "says something" and "does something." Its primary purpose has to do with communication and exchange. What we perceive as the aesthetics of the performance are, in fact, secondary and derive from the logic of the codes employed. Dan Sperber has noted that "Information can be transmitted in two ways: either by coding it in a shared language or by drawing attention to it, by displaying it."26 Nearly a century ago, A. M. Stephen recorded a quite similar — Hopi — perspective: The Kachina is a paho [prayer messenger], so is the ti'hu, the figurine. Aside from the conventional significance of its details, the costume is also distinctly of a decorative intent, because the deities are naturally attracted by beautiful objects. When the deities see elaborate and brilliantly d e c o r a t e d kachina p e r s o n a t o r s , they say, ' A h a , w h a t beautiful objects are those, they must be the admirable kachina of the Hopi." 27 42 Phoebus 4 To some extent it is difficult to extract the katsina dance from the total context of its performance. And, indeed, much of this paper has been concerned to describe the context in which it occurs. Out of context, the characters, circumstances and actions seem to involve random differences but on closer inspection these turn out to be systematic and o p p o s i t i o n s , e l e m e n t s of codes, w o r d s of languages — all m e a n i n g f u l to the Hopi people. *This article was originally presented at the second annual New Directions in Native American Arts symposium held at Arizona State University, Tempe, Arizona, April 22-24, 1981. Ethnographic data unless otherwise credited is f r o m field notes, Hopi Indian Reservation, 1969,1970-1971, and 1977. Janet Catherine Berlo Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist at Fort Marion, Florida In January of 1877, the newlyweds Frances and John Grady of St. Louis h o n e y m o o n e d in J a c k s o n v i l l e , Florida. During the two years before their trip, they had p r e s u m a b l y read in the St. Louis newspapers such stories as were carried by papers all over the country about the seventy-two "fierce and wild indians" of the Great Plains w h o were being held captive at Fort Marion, an old Spanish fort in nearby St. Augustine. Alleged by U.S. officials in Indian Territory to be among the most hostile and w a r l i k e i n d i v i d u a l s of their tribes, and accused of n u m e r o u s crimes against w h i t e s , these Cheyenne, Kiowa, Comanche, A r a p a h o and Caddo were incarcerated to serve as examples to other warriors and Indian freedom fighters that the U.S. A r m y was determined to prevail against Indian uprisings. Stories of the former deeds and the present incarceration of these warriors and captured the popular imagination, and hundreds of tourists visited Fort Marion to see these men. Many, like the Gradys, spent $2.00 for a momento of the visit: a notebook filled with drawings done by one of the Indians. Frances and John Grady bought two twelve page sketchbooks, the leaves of which were filled, front and back, with drawings by Wo-Haw, a twenty-two year old Kiowa. Frances Barry Grady died in 1879, and her belongings apparently went back to her parents, Mr. and Mrs. J a m e s Barry. Mr. Barry had been a f o u n d e r of the Missouri Historical Society, and its president from 187677. When he died in 1882, the two sketchbooks were presented by his w i d o w to the Historical Society.1 They remained unstudied until the 1940's, when Mrs. Dana O. Jensen, editor of the Bulletin of the Historical Society, r e d i s c o v e r e d the s k e t c h b o o k s in the archives and researched their history. The forty-eight drawings from these notebooks, along with three individual drawings in the Smithsonian, form the total known corpus of WoHaw's work. In general, the art produced at Fort Marion has been well studied. In addition to Karen Daniels Petersen's 44 Phoebus 4 encyclopedic work, Plains Indian Art from Fort Marion, a number of picture books on individual artists have been published. 2 However, the artist w h o so skillfully rendered the narrative scenes discussed and illustrated here has received less attention than his cohorts ZoTom, Howling Wolf, Cohoe, or Bear's Heart. Except for two local St. Louis publications, only two of Wo-Haw's drawings have been widely published. 3 His work is, on one level, quite representative of the kind of work that was done at Fort Marion. Wo-Haw was a youthful warrior, plucked from his tribal existence and set down in a new culture. His art is a response to that alien culture and a re-affirmation of his tribal heritage. On another level, Wo-Haw's work in several instances goes beyond the particular confines of autobiography or tribal history to stand as a metaphor for the struggles of many Plains peoples in the last third of the nineteenth century, a time when traditional Plains life was in a state of eclipse. Nowhere is the passing of an era more vividly depicted than in Wo-Haw's art. The reservation period had begun for the Kiowa with the treaty of 1865 that moved them to the area of what is today southwestern Oklahoma. The Treaty of Medicine Lodge in 1867 confined the Kiowa to the reservation; no more would they be free riders and raiders on the southern plains. In 1869, Fort Sill was established in the center of the Kiowa reservation. It had been right near the site of Fort Sill that more than thirty years earlier Auguste Chouteau had established the first trading post within Kiowa territory. 4 The m e n f r o m t h e s o u t h e r n p l a i n s w h o w e r e rounded up at Fort Sill in April of 1875 were sent in chains on a long overland train ride from Fort Sill, to Fort L e a v e n w o r t h in Kansas, and then t h r o u g h St. Louis, Indianapolis, Nashville, and Atlanta to Jacksonville, Florida. At each of these cities, crowds greeted the train, eager for a glimpse of these renowned warriorcriminals. They finally arrived at Fort Marion on May 21, 1875, to begin a three year sentence. 5 During the years of their captivity, and w i t h the encouragement of a relatively benevolent warden, Captain Richard Pratt, the former Plains warriors passed the t i m e and earned m o n e y by making art objects and curios to sell to tourists. At least twenty-six of the men, principally Kiowa and Cheyenne, spent most of their free time making drawings in small artist's notebooks provided by Captain Pratt. They worked in pencil, ink and crayon. Petersen has located 745 individual works done by these twenty-six artists at Fort Marion. 6 At first glance, one might dismiss such works as "tourist art" because it was made, apparently not for tra- Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist 45 ditional use within the Indian culture, but rather in an alien setting for sale to outsiders unfamiliar with the mores and c u s t o m s of the g r o u p . A n d yet, despite apparent differences from the older Plains pictorial tradition of hide painting, the notebooks drawn by WoHaw and the other Fort Marion artists actually conform quite closely to the traditional Plains ideals of pictorial painting. Hide painting done by men was unique a m o n g Plains arts, for it focused on tribal history, autobiography, and record-keeping. Those w h o painted hides were warriors and hunters, celebrating and recording their exploits on hides. Successful warriors earned the right to publicly memorialize their brave acts, recording them pictorially on clothing and tipis for all to see. Thus personal history was made public history, adding to the status of both the individual andthegroup. Throughout the Great Plains in the second half of the nineteenth century, as buffalo hides became scarce because of the massive slaughter of these animals by whites, Indians turned to imported materials with which to record t h e i r v i s i o n s and e x p l o i t s . Ledger books replaced hides; inks and pencils replaced the indigenous earth pigments and split twig brushes. There is evidence that the small ledger books were treated by their makers in much the same way as portable, wearable h i d e s . On m o r e t h a n one o c c a s i o n , U.S. s o l d i e r s removed ledgers from the bodies of Indian men killed in battle. The warriors seem to have worn these notebooks on their persons as validations of their bravery on previous occasions. For example, a ledger book drawn by the Sioux painter and warrior Red Hawk was taken from his dead body on the battlefield of Wounded Knee in 1890. In it were 116 drawings of warfare, horse capture, and othertribal events. 7 Changes in the pictorial conventions of hide and ledger book painting during the nineteenth century have been t h o r o u g h l y s t u d i e d by J o h n Ewers and others, and are a familiar chapter in Plains art. 8 The expansion of the formal vocabulary of the painter is the most significant of these changes, a result of contact w i t h European conventions of three dimensionality, modeling, foreshortening, realism, and the use of one point perspective. Skillful Indian artists imitated and adapted foreign pictorial conventions to their own uses after w a t c h i n g artists like Catlin and Bodmer paint. Nowhere are such changes in the Indian pictographic tradition more apparent than in the scores of drawings on paper known from the second half of the nineteenth century including those of the Fort Marion artists. More than one contemporary observer commented 46 Phoebus 4 ' V fm Figure 1. Kiowa warriors on horseback. Figure 2. Wo-Haw's depiction of Fort Sill, Oklahoma where he was taken captive. m p % that Wo-Haw and the other prisoners received no art training at the Fort, but drew as they pleased.9 It is clear, however, that the artists were eager to experiment with formal problems of pictorial space, diagonal foreshortening, and the like. They surely observed photographs, prints, and other popular media on their forays to the stores in St. Augustine where prisoners on good behavior were allowed to g o t o spend their earnings. Despite their formal innovations, which are comm o n in late nineteenth century Plains painting, and Figure 3. The train ride from Fort Sill to Fort Marion, Florida. despite the making of thisart f o r s a l e t o tourists, the Fort Marion artists persisted in their own tribal traditions. They still were using visual art to record heroic deeds, to set down personal visions, and to recount the passing of historic events. Heroic deeds have taken a new turn here, however. They consist not only of the old type of bravery in warfare and the hunt, but of new adventures in a perilousand alien environment. Wo-Haw begins one notebook with classic scenes of warfare on the plains: he paints a group riding out on a war party, complete with banners, war bonnets, and horses whose tails are tied up decoratively for war (Figure 1). But he rapidly moves into scenes that have no exact counterpart in the older tradition of hide painting: scenes of figures in a landscape, complete with western-style architecture. In a effort to faithfully record the events of his captivity, Wo-Haw bravely attempts new scenes and techniques: We see Fort Sill, in Oklahoma, the round-up point for the seventy-two Fort Marion captives (Figure 2). The barracks are skillfully set in a landscape and rendered with one point perspective. We see scenes of train travel overland to Fort Marion, utilizing sophisticated techniques of diagonal foreshortening (Figure 3.) Wo-Haw is recalling and memorializing his personal odyssey as a captured warrior, an odyssey during which most of these men presumed that they would be killed, and during which one man committed suicide by j u m p i n g off the train. Wo-Haw in captivity is clearly a different Odysseus than the free warrior astride a horse on the southern Plains, however. His personal odyssey t a k e s h i m d o w n t h e w h i t e m a n ' s r o a d , w h e r e he f a i t h - fully records the unfamiliar technologies of an alien culture. Wo-Haw draws the unfamiliar architecture of the massive, medieval Spanish fortress in which he was housed, and the nearby lighthouse, both of which must have seemed exceedingly curious to a horseman from the country's interior (Figures 4 and 5). The various types of sea vessels that W o - H a w observed on the Florida coast, from paddleboat to double masted ship, 48 Phoebus 4 Figure 4. The massive Spanish stone fortress in which Wo-Haw was incarcerated in Florida. w e r e d r a w n in great d e t a i l , even to the p r i m , selfsatisfied faces of the individual passengers (Figure 6). All become part of Wo-Haw's personal history, and as such are recorded in the pages of his notebooks. Other processes of acculturation are recorded as well. The journey f r o m saddle to school bench was not an easy one for Wo-Haw and his compatriots. Does WoHaw himself suggest this by the penciled-in specter of a brave in t r a d i t i o n a l dress w h o s e g h o s t l y presence observes the Fort Marion classroom (Figure 7)? Captain Pratt, the Fort Marion warden, was a product of his era, despite his relatively enlightened ideas about education and personal liberties for the incarcerated man. He believed very strongly in the essential humanity of these men that others referred to as "incorrigible" and "savage." Yet Pratt was equally adamant that "in order to save the man we must kill the Indian." Thus he ordered that all men cut their hair, wear military garb, and conform to a scheduled roster of activities which included roll call, military formation, and classes in reading and writing. Soon after arrival at Fort Marion, the long-haired Kiowa, Cheyenne, and others were transformed to ersatz Army regulars in military blue. Pratt himself described this t r a n s f o r m a t i o n that Wo-Haw illustrated: Very soon after being a l l o w e d larger discretion, their shackles were removed. It also seemed best to get them out of the curio class by cutting their hair and having them Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist Figure 5. A lighthouse near Fort Marion. Figure 6. Wo-Haw's carefully rendered version of a sidewheel boat and its passengers. Figure 7. Indians in military dress attend morning lessons at Fort Marion. A spectral Indian drawn in pencil looks on. 49 50 Phoebus 4 X •V \ 0 Figure 8. The butchering of a buffalo. * v wear the clothing of the white man. There was some objection by them to these changes, but by kindly persuasion it was gradually accomplished. This change to army c l o t h i n g w a s issued, a n u m b e r cut off the legs of the trouser at the hip, laying aside the upper part and using the trouser legs as legging in the Indian way. This called for immediate correction. They were formed in line and a pair of the mutilated trousers s h o w n them. They were emphatically told that the clothing belonged to the United States Government and that it was only loaned to them so that they m i g h t dress themselves becomingly, like the people they were meeting daily, and thus rid themselves of the stare of visitors w h o invariably noted every difference between them and ourselves. They must not, therefore, under any circumstances mutilate the clothing but wear it just as the white man wore it. They yeilded good n a t u r e d l y and soon became accustomed to the w h i t e man's toggery and wore it with satisfaction to themselves. I had the soldier guards teach them how to be neat in the care of their clothing, h o w to clean it and crease their trousers, keep the brass buttons on their coats and caps bright, and polish their shoes, and in a short time there w a s p r i d e e s t a b l i s h e d in t h e w e a r i n g of t h e a r m y uniform. 10 But Pratt's e f f o r t s w e r e not e n o u g h to " k i l l the Indian" in Wo-Haw. This is clear in Wo-Haw's art. The Fort Marion sketchbooks record the heroic deeds of the acculturated present and of the tribal past, but they also i n t r o d u c e n e w s u b j e c t matter. W o - H a w and o t h e r Florida artists expanded the pictorial tradition of Plains painting to include remembrances of traditional life on the plains, a way of life that was quickly passing out of existence. Not just the heroic m o m e n t s or scenes of valor, but scenes of courtship, ceremony, and tribal life emerge in the pages of these sketchbooks. Wo-Haw depicts the act of skinning a buffalo (Figure 8). In the scene, the warrior has killed the animal; three w o m e n s t a n d by t h e s h a r p e n e d k i n v e s , ready to expertly butcher the carcass, of which every bit would have been used for some item of food, utensil or clothing. A later scene depicts the smoking of the buffalo meat at a camp on the great plains. Wo-Haw tenderly Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist 51 draws scenes of courtship, in which a betrothed couple are intimately wrapped in the same buffalo robe, thus p r o c l a i m i n g p u b l i c l y t h e i r d e v o t i o n to each o t h e r (Figure 9). Tipis painted with the personal emblems of their owners were rendered, as are groups of Kiowa wrapped in beaded blankets (Figures 10 and 11). Kiowa religion is recalled, too, in scenes of the sacred Sun Dance lodge w h i c h was built every June, w i t h leafy c o t t o n w o o d boughs blanketing the exterior (Figure 12). Although these notebooks were produced for outsiders, it is clear that the object was not simply to draw scenes of traditional life that would appeal to tourists, but also, t h r o u g h the creative process, to recall with sadness and longing the grand old days on the plains that were so far, both in time and space, from the military prison in St. Augustine. Art work at Fort Marion served an important function for the artists themselves, essentially the same function as traditional hide painting: it served as a means of self-definition. In the recording of their unusual travels and experiences, WoHaw and his c o m p a n i o n s r e a f f i r m e d their valor as intrepid men. By visually recreating their former deeds as hunters and horsemen, they stressed, both to themselves and to others, that despite cropped hair and white man's clothing, they were still adventuresome Kiowa, Cheyenne, Comanche, Arapaho and Caddo warriors. In their drawings they captured a way of life to which most of them hoped to return. Figure 9. A Kiowa man and woman are wrapped in one buffalo robe, a gesture of affection for each other. In April 1878, the men were released from Fort Marion. Several of them went to study at the Hampton Institute in Virginia, a school that until that time had been solely for the education of Blacks. Most of the men, however, returned to their tribes. All evidence indicates that it was very difficult for those sophisticated, acculturated Indians to re-enter the tribal world. They were no longer traditional Indians; they had experienced too much that was alien to a traditional culture. Yet neither could they ever be fully accepted in the white world of the nineteenth century. Wo-Haw's life after Fort Marion illustrates the way in w h i c h m a n y of these m e n c o n t i n u e d to s h u t t l e between t w o cultures for the rest of their lives. 11 WoHaw elected to return to the Kiowa reservation. He went to the Indian school there for a time, but then stopped attending. He bacame a private in the Indian Agency police force, and later joined an Indian Troop of the 7th Regiment of the U.S. Cavalry. After his discharge, WoHaw r e t u r n e d to his n a t i v e c o m m u n i t y . T h e r e he became an active participant in the Ghost Dance religion, a visionary movement that swept the Great Plains 52 Phoebus 4 Figure 10. Two Kiowa men emerge from painted tipis. Figure 11. A cluster of Kiowas wearing traditional robes. V Figure 12. The Kiowa Sun Dance lodge of cottonwood boughs. " .. ® Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist 53 Figure 13. "Wo-Haw in Two Worlds." The artist depicts his own dilemma as an Indian with his feet in t w o different cultures. in the late nineteenth century, prophecying the end of white culture and a return of the buffalo, the ancestors, and the ancient ways. Wo-Haw died in 1924, at the age of sixty-nine, on the Kiowa reservation. Wo-Haw had journeyed a long way, both in miles and in experience from the plains of the Kiowa nation to three years in the Florida f o r t , wearing army dress, learning reading, w r i t i n g , and bible study. His most famous drawing unequivocally and poignantly portrays his dilemma as a man caught between two cultures. In fact, the painting symbolizes the greater dilemma of all Plains peoples in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. It is unparalleled in Plains art of the period for its use of metaphor rather than literal depiction. It might well be titled "Wo-Haw in Two Worlds"(Figure 13). Wo-Haw depicts himself in traditional dress. Above his head he has painted his own name. He stands on the great plains beneath the sun, a f a l l i n g star, and the m o o n . These c e l e s t i a l b o d i e s w i t n e s s W o - H a w ' s actions. To his left stands a domesticated beef cattle (for w h o m he is named). At his right, a buffalo approaches (sustenance of the Kiowa people). Wo-Haw holds a peace pipe out to each, although he is facing the domesticated cattle. One foot stands near the buffalo head and Kiowa tipi, but Wo-Haw's other foot is firmly planted in the tilled fields in front of a wooden house. Wo-Haw knew that he, his people, and their art, had embarked irrevocably on the white man's way. Susan Brown McGreevey The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers To most people, Navajo weaving is synonymous with Navajo textiles. However, there is another weaving tradition that is less well-known. The relative obscurity of Navajo basket weaving is the result of historic socioeconomic factors which in turn precipitated a decline in basketry p r o d u c t i o n . As early as 1894, Washington Matthews wrote, "the art of basket making today is little c u l t i v a t e d a m o n g the Navajos." 1 In the late 1930's, Kluckhohn's informants reported that Utes and Paiutes w e r e m a k i n g m o s t of the baskets used for Navajo ceremonies. 2 Tschopik in 1938 observed, "a few [Navajo baskets] continue to be manufactured. . .many more, apparently, are purchased f r o m traders w h o in turn s e c u r e t h e m f r o m t h e Ute a n d P a i u t e . " 3 In 1968, Gilpin noted that Navajo basket makers were rapidly declining in number. 4 Another recent contribution to this gloomy prognoisis comes from the October 1978 issue of the Navajo Area Newsletter which reported, "the fine art of Navajo basket making is a dying art." 5 In spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, this paper will argue (with apologies to Mark Twain) that rumors of its death have been greatly exaggerated. During summer field work in the early 1970s, I resided outside Shonto, Arizona, located in the northwestern portion of the Navajo Reservation. At that time, I found no reason to question the generalized myth that baskets were on the endangered species list of Navajo craft arts. Therefore, my curiosity was considerably aroused as reports began to reach me concerning a proliferation of baskets being sold at trading posts in the region. I could not help recall that this area is geographically adjacent to Southern Paiute-Ute country and was traditionally a region in which intermarriage between the Navajo and their northern neighbors was common. I therefore made immediate plans to return to the Reservation to see if in fact the alleged renaissance was a reality, and if there was any correlation between that reality and the g e o g r a p h i c - k i n s h i p relationship between the Navajo and their neighbors. The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 55 Early Spanish chronicles indicate that the Navajo were t r a d i n g their baskets (and other items) to the Pueblo Indians by the early 1600's.6 There were three major types of baskets commonly woven by the Navajo before the turn of this century: the pitch-covered bottleshaped container used to transport and store water; the burden basket used to collect edible wild foods and to carry corn; and the basketry tray used to hold food and to serve various ritual functions. By the early twentieth century, both the pitched bottle and the carrying basket had become obsolete as a result of the increasing availa b i l i t y of m a n u f a c t u r e d u t i l i t a r i a n c o n t a i n e r s that served the same purposes. Another factor which may have contributed to the decline was the gradual disappearance of the basic raw material, the yucca plant, as a result of overgrazing. 7 The basketry tray is the only type still woven, and is therefore the subject of this paper. A l t h o u g h these baskets are often referred to as " w e d d i n g baskets" because of their use in marriage ceremonies, their ritual function is in fact much broader. Ceremonial use of these dish-shaped baskets derives from the Emergence Myth, and their continued use and manufacture can be partially attributed to their ritualspecific context. Basket dishes serve as containers for religious paraphernalia, sacred corn meal, medicinal herbs and yucca suds; as ceremonial drums and resonance c h a m b e r s ; and as portions of certain masks. They also constitute part of the payment given to the religious specialist w h o conducts the ceremony. Because of these ceremonial requirements, basket dishes are usually tightly woven and water resistant. The technique used in weaving these baskets has persisted throughout the history of the craft. Both foundation and coil are made from split sumac twigs. The size of the coil is determined by the number of splits and/or size of the bundle used in the f o u n d a t i o n . Sumac is becoming increasingly scarce on the Reservation, so most of the material used today is collected in Colorado or Utah. According to some informants, the best time for gathering sumac is during the autumn months when the sap is down. Others prefer the whiter sumac available between May and August. After gathering, the sumac is then dried and split in preparation for weaving. The splits are soaked in water immediately prior to weaving to make them smooth and pliable. Traditionally, the sumac was dyed in the same materials used to dye w o o l : black was made f r o m the Rocky Mountain bee weed or from surface coal; various shades of red and b r o w n w e r e made f r o m j u n i p e r and m o u n t a i n mahogany roots mixed w i t h alder bark. Today, most weavers rely on easier and quickeranilinedyes. 56 Phoebus 4 Older baskets from museum collections affirm Tanner's observation that Navajos once wove a variety of designs. 8 A l t h o u g h some contemporary weavers are elaborating on this tradition, most baskets continue to be made in the distinctive "wedding basket" design. The so-called "spirit line" or "weaver's pathway" is a symbolic exit for b o t h the s p i r i t of the basket and the energies of the weaver. 9 Because the end of the rim stitch is in alignment with the "spirit line," it serves as a directional orientation for the Medicine Man to face the pathway towards the ritually appropriate East. The distinctive herringbone rim stitch has mythological origins. According to Mathews: In the ancient days, a navajo w o m a n was seated under a juniper tree finishing a basket in the style of other tribes, as was then the Navajo custom, and while so engaged she was intently thinking if some stronger and more beautiful margin could not be devised. As she thus sat in thought, the god Qastceyelci [Talking God] tore from the overhanging juniper tree a small spray and cast it into her basket. It immediately occurred to initiate in her work the peculiar fold of the uniper leaves and she soon devised a way of doing so.10 The ceremonial context of basketry trays applied not only to their use, but also to their manufacture. The basket maker was obliged to conform to an elaborate complex of ritual requirements during the weaving process. For example, while making a basket, the weaver had to remain isolated from her family. A brief blessing rite was always performed before she could return to the hogan. With the exception of a few transvestites, men were p r o h i b i t e d f r o m w e a v i n g process. It was believed that a man who violated this restriction would become impotent. Indeed, Tschopik argued that the decrease in the supply of ceremonial baskets was a direct result of the multiplicity of taboos associated with the weaving. 1 1 However, since many other aspects of Navajo life were permeated w i t h ritual proscriptions and remained viable, Tschopik's a r g u m e n t does not provide sufficient explanation of the decline in the number of basket weavers. The decline and revival of Navajo basket weaving has not been an isolated phenomenon, but has been related to the whole of Navajo culture and the changes that have occurred, and continue to occur, from within and without. Therefore it seems reasonable to look at other parts of the cultural system for a more comprehensive understanding of basket making developments during thetwentieth century. Weaving baskets was exclusively a woman's craft a r t : so was w e a v i n g blankets and rugs. A l t h o u g h Navajo textiles were originally woven for Navajo use, The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 57 by the middle of the nineteenth century, they had become important items of trade with the Utes and Plains tribes. The establishment of Anglo-managed trading posts on the Reservation in the late nineteenth century provided a new marketplace for the sale of Navajo rugs d e s i g n e d to appeal to A n g l o buyers. Phillips, and others, stress the importance of the high market value of Navajo rugs relative to the low value of baskets. "Blankets and baskets were made only by women and during the same season of the year. Since the trade value of blankets exceeded that of baskets, production of t h e f o r m e r i n c r e a s e d , w h i l e t h a t of t h e l a t t e r decreased." 12 Although economic factors clearly had a signficiant influence on the decline of basketry production, Navajos continued to need baskets for use in their ceremonials. This problem was apparently solved by the availability of southern Paiute and Ute baskets which serve the same purpose. These tribes were geographic neighbors of the Navajo and participated in the Navajo trade network. Several authorities speculate that the Ute and Paiute borrowed basketry techniques and designs from the Navajo during the early nineteenth century.13 While the actual borrowing process cannot be documented, the baskets of these northern neighbors sufficiently resemble their Navajo counterparts as to be virtually ind i s t i n g u i s h a b l e on c u r s o r y e x a m i n a t i o n . It seems probable that there must have been some inital hesitation regarding the use of baskets that were not made by Navajos, and thus lacked the appropriate ritual sanct i o n s . However, in t h i s case necessity became the mother of accommodation. The establishment of Navajo versus Paiute provenience has been of interest to Kluckhohn and Hill, and T s c h o p i k , a m o n g o t h e r s . Based on p r e - t w e n t i e t h century basketry construction, t w o salient diagnostic traits have been proposed: (1) a two-rod and bundle foundation for Navajo versus a three-rod foundation for Paiute; (2) a "sunwise" coil direction for Navajo versus counterclockwise for Paiute. There has been general agreement in the literature regarding the rod and bundle hypothesis; however, recent research by the author (with Parrish and Whiteford) in various museum collections has raised serious doubts regarding the validity of this analysis. We are discovering that many older baskets, catalogued as Paiute (presumably on the basis of three-rod construction) have other traits (e.g., shape, design, quality of weaving) that suggest Navajo origins. One problem that seems ubiquitous is the assumption that all twentieth century "Navajo" baskets were woven by the Paiute (or Ute) — an assumption that is reflected 58 Phoebus 4 in the available catalogue information. If our hunch is correct, it is possible that the early twentieth century decline of Navajo basket weaving was not as dramatic as t h e l i t e r a t u r e s u g g e s t s . H o p e f u l l y , c o n t i n u e d research may produce a more definitive understanding; however at the moment, the further we delve, the more confused we become. Opinions regarding the direction of the coil are equally problematical. 1 4 (My i n f o r m a n t s s u p p o r t t h e Franciscan Fathers (1910) description of a " s u n w i s e " coil, while Stewart (1938) and Tschopik (1940) argue the opposite.) However, the h i s t o r i c a l reality c o n c e r n i n g both d i a g n o s t i c traits emerges, there is consensus regarding current technology. Both Navajo and Paiute weavers utilize three-rod foundations and sew the coil counterclockwise. Information provided by my Navajo informants indicates that these techniques are utilized today because they are "easier" and "quicker" than "old" methods. In any case, it is certainly more than coincidence that the nuclear area for the recent Navajo basketry revival (bordered by Navajo Mountain on the west, Oljato on the east, the San Juan River on the north and highway 160 on the south) is the region of the Reservation that is adjacent to southern Paiute and Ute country. In addition to geographic proximity, many w o m e n of these northern neighboring tribes have married Navajo men. Southern Paiute and Ute women may have kept the basket weaving tradition during the alleged period of decline among the Navajo. Thus as the economic climate of the Indian art market began to flourish, Navajos were able to re-learn the craft. Virginia Smith of Oljato Trading Post observes that some of the current Navajo weavers on the Oljato area are originally from Navajo Mountain, an area that has long witnessed intermarriage b e t w e e n s o u t h e r n Paiute and Navajo. S m i t h further states that most of the other Navajo weavers from Oljato are first or second generation descendants of Navajo Mountain families. Thus, the kinship network in this northwestern part of Navajoland has functioned as a natural agentfortransmitting basketry technology. In addition to the geographic and kinship connections, some of the same factors which have been attributed to the decline of the Navajo basket weaving may have been at work in reverse to stimulate the revitalization. Parezo discusses how taboos surrounding Navajo sandpainting gradually relaxed in response to the stimulus of the Indian art market.15 This process of relaxation also applies to basket weaving. There w o u l d appear to be a direct correlation between the current economic incentive associated with all forms of Indian art and the increased secularization of both sandpainting The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 59 and basket weaving. Basket weavers no longer work in isolation and the blessing rite has been largely abandoned. Most contemporary weavers produce baskets on a part-time basis; however, there are a few women who weave baskets throughout the year, thus ignoring the traditional prohibition on winter weaving . These full-time weavers make collecting trips to Colorado and/ or Utah at least once a m o n t h , even t h o u g h sumac gathered in spring and summer is weaker and more difficult to work than material gathered in the fall. The introduction of basket weaving classes at Navajo Comm u n i t y College in the late 1960's p r o v i d e d f u r t h e r impetus towards secularization. Finally, the existance of a few male basket weavers is a strong argument for the demise of ancienttaboos. The secularized, commercially-oriented aspect of the basketry revival can also be seen in i n n o v a t i v e experiments with new shapes, sizes, designs and functions. For example, Virginia Smith's basketry collection includes a large coiled basketry clock. An impractically large (five feet in diameter), but beautifully woven basket was made in 1979 by Mary Holidy Black. An impractically small (two inches in diameter), but beautifully woven basket was made the same year by Mary's sisterin-law, Sandra Black. Sally Black, Mary's daughter, has not only been experimenting with non-traditional sizes in her baskets, but also frequently incorporates designs borrowed f r o m other groups (e.g., Pima/Papago and Western Apache), often incorporating both in the same basket. W h i l e her d e p a r t u r e f r o m c o n v e n t i o n has generated criticism from some older Navajos (including M e d i c i n e Men), Sally's basketweaving reflects the development of a new phenomenon: the conflict between individual creative expression and the dictates of traditional boundaries. In addition to these women, Olive and Lillian Holiday, Zonnie Boseley, Martha Katso and David Black are among the best of the avant garde Navajo weavers. All are f r o m the Oljato area. Their finely w o v e n baskets with thunderbird, kachina and yei designs are in great demand by Anglo collectors, even though these designs constitute further radical departures from traditional patterns. The production of these baskets is encouraged by the management of Oljato Trading Post. The Smiths have a long waiting list of persons interested in specific baskets made by specific weavers. In 1961, S h e p a r d s o n and H a m m o n d ' s N a v a j o Mountain informants reported, "Ladies around here are giving up basket m a k i n g . . .it's too hard to do, it takes too much t i m e . . .basket making is really dying out." 16 Madelene Cameron of Navajo Mountain Trading Post 60 Phoebus 4 confirms that this downward trend continued into the 1970s. For example, in 1971 Cameron's records indicate that there were only five Navajo basket weavers in the region. However, by 1978, that number had increased to twenty-five. Oljato reports 70 weavers in that same year. The combined total inventory for Oljato, Kayenta and Navajo Mountain Trading Posts in 1978 was 900 baskets, representing a total of 105 weavers. Of this total inventory, 690 baskets were woven by Navajo women and 55 by Navajo men. An additional 132 baskets were w o v e n by s o u t h e r n Paiute w o m e n and 26 more by Navajo/Paiutes. Traders' mark-ups on these baskets ranged from five percent for baskets under $50 to 50 percent for larger pieces. The price range of baskets sold was from $2.00 to $200. There were 750 baskets sold to other posts and dealers, while 150 were sold to individual Navajos. Navajos will often re-sell the baskets they buy to other Navajos in the southern part of the Reservation to use for ceremonial purposes. Since other posts and dealers also retail to Navajos, it is reasonable to assume that the total number of Navajo buyers s u b s t a n t i a l l y e x c e e d e d 150. A l t h o u g h Navajo M o u n t a i n Trading Post only buys new baskets f r o m individual weavers, both Oljato and Kayenta frequently buy used baskets from Medicine Men. This market is particularly active in the late spring after the winter ceremonial cycle. Kayenta Trading Post obtains most of its inventory from weavers who have not been able to sell their baskets to Oljato or Navajo Mountain due to oversaturated inventories at these posts. A c c o r d i n g to Cameron, a typical basket weaver makes one to t w o baskets a week during the winter months. An average basket will be bought by the trader f o r b e t w e e n $40 a n d $50. T h u s , basket w e a v i n g provides an additional source of revenue for families w h o ordinarily must rely on sheep herding, part-time wage work, and/or welfare payments for their income. In fact, the basket weaving business has become so popular that new weavers appear every year. Some of these women have never previously been involved in any kind of craft production; others have given up rug weaving or beadwork to devote their time and creative energies to basket weaving. Baskets still do not command the kind of renumerations that rugs do; however, since they are less complicated and time-consuming to produce, a weaver can make several baskets in the time it w o u l d take to weave one rug. In 1974, the Federal Trade Commission's "Truth in Lending" regulations, which prohibited barter as a means of exchange at the t r a d i n g posts, stimulated f u r t h e r reliance on a cash economy, thus contributing to the commercial incentive The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 61 for weaving baskets. The role of the trading post as a marketing vehicle has therefore become increasingly important in the commercial distribution through its retail stores. Two other developments are w o r t h mentioning. While basket weaving classes continue to be held at Navajo C o m m u n i t y College, they have also become increasingly popular at Reservation high schools. A basket made by a Monument Valley High School student won First Grand Prize at the 1978 Navajo Tribal Fair. There also has been a minor revival in the production of the p i t c h - c o v e r e d w a t e r container. However, these bottles are decorative, non-utilitarian items made specifically forthe tourist market. The economic impact of the Indian art has clearly had a profound influence on the commercialization of N a v a j o basket m a k i n g . A l t h o u g h the t r a n s i t i o n of Navajo-made for Navajo-use to Navajo-made for the non-Navajo market has resulted in periods of decline, it has recently become a catalyst for creative revival. The particular case of the basketry renaissance reflects the c o n t i n u i t i e s and c h a n g e s t h a t c h a r a c t e r i z e o t h e r aspects of twentieth century Navajo life. Certainly, the revival has been a response to external market develo p m e n t s ; however, the number of baskets made by Navajos and purchased by Navajos for ceremonial use suggests that the traditional ritual function of the basketry dish remains an intrinsic part of Navajo life. AmyTrevelyan Powhatan Copper and the Prehistoric Ceremonial Complexes of the Eastern United States Some of the most spectacular and remarkable examples of Native American art have gone v i r t u a l l y unheralded in art historical literature. Metalwork, so much a part of post-contact art in the southwestern United States, was also important in the east, both before and after contact w i t h Europeans. In the eastern United States, Native Americans had been mining and working native metals, primarily copper, for thousands of years before Europeans arrived in the New World. It is clear that the role played by copperwork with pre-historic Native American societies was not simply decorative. Copperwork, whether in the form of bracelets or ear o r n a m e n t s , large plaques or rattles was certainly much more than a luxury item enjoyed by some sort of wealthy elite. Rather, items in this huge corpus (over 20,000 pieces have been examined and classified by the author) w e r e of vital significance ceremonially and, as such, were important politically and economically, as well. The following is a correlation of evidence from both historic and archaeological sources in the attempt to better understand the significance these remarkable objects heldforthe peoples who madethem. Copper w a s i m p o r t a n t to a great m a n y Native A m e r i c a n societies w i t h distinctly differing cultural manifestations, throughout much of the eastern United States. Nevertheless, the ways in which they utilized and decorated copper are remarkably similar and seen to evolve in essentially the same way through time. 1 The earthworks built by many of these same prehistoric cultures in the eastern United States have been of interest to scholars since the early days of European contact with the New World. The question of what became of the c o m p l e x social, political and economic structures that would seem to have been necessary for the construction of some of the earthworks remains essentially unanswered despite all the years of study and investigation. Part of the answer may lie in the copperwork, an element of culture shared by all of them, as well as many early historic groups. Powhatan Copper 63 Items of paraphernalia w r o u g h t f r o m native copper figured significantly in the cultural life of the Powhatan and other groups in what is n o w Virginia at the time of their first contact w i t h Europeans. The central role it played in that culture is o b v i o u s f r o m the c o m m e n t s and o b s e r v a t i o n s of early chroniclers, but the actual significance of the material is considerably less clear. The amount of copper and the way it was used indicate it w a s an i m p o r t a n t e l e m e n t of c u l t u r e , but specific details give apparently conflicting impressions regarding its significance. In the archaeological literature, Native A m e r i c a n copperwork is often examined in terms of its economic or its socio-political significance, perhaps due to the role of precious metals in our o w n society. 2 The importance of copperwork ceremonially is usually acknowledged but rarely discussed. As a result, the economic and socio-political aspects have been accorded unwarr a n t e d i m p o r t a n c e , l e a d i n g t o q u e s t i o n s like: W h y w o u l d a people systematically impoverish themselves by burying the wealth of the c o m m u n i t y w i t h the dead? The a n s w e r is, t h e y w o u l d not. Analysis proceeding f r o m the assumption that the societies utilizing copper in the eastern United States were logical and pragmatic peoples suggest that, a l t h o u g h the c o p p e r w o r k possessed by these groups was of some economic significance, its role as an item of ceremonial paraphernalia must have been far more important. Careful e x a m i n a t i o n of archaeological and documentary evidence indicates that this importance centered around copper as a repository for the validation of spiritual power. It was the inherent spiritual power attributed to native copper that f o r m e d the basis for whatever economic and socio-political significance it may have had. The source of this power was apparently believed to reside w i t h the supernatural beings w h o controlled the primary forces and elements of nature. Like those beings, the power associated w i t h copper was probably believed to be as capable of causing disaster as it was of p r o m o t i n g great good. For this reason, it w o u l d have been necessary to limit its possession to those whose knowledge and/or training w o u l d enable them to control the power resident in copper and channel it in directions that w o u l d benefit the community, w i t h o u t harming themselves or others. The closest analogy in our o w n society lies in the status of certain radioactive elements like plutonium, — of great potential benefit to the c o m m u n i t y by virtue of the power contained therein. However, unless kept in the care of those able to control and properly manipu- 64 Ph0ebus 4 late that power these same materials are potentially dangerous, even deadly. Obviously, it is the power resident in these materials and its ability to do great good and/or harm that renders them economically and politically important. Archaeological evidence clearly indicates the following: (1) from archaic through early contact times, native copper was an important element of culture in s o c i e t i e s t h r o u g h o u t m u c h of the eastern U n i t e d States; (2) it was buried with selected members of those cultures, representing a very small elite, although including individuals of both sexes and all age groups; (3) most of it came from the huge deposits of native copper in the Lake Superior area, although there were some sources further south. The use of copper by the Powhatan as described by a number of early sources parallels what we know of the situation pre-historically in many respects. This evidence as well as other factors suggest that the use of copper by the Powhatan represents the twilight of an o n g o i n g t r a d i t i o n w i t h its roots in the archaic past. Analysis of the role of Powhatan copper, then, should help to clarify the metal's significance during periods with no written history. A number of early chroniclers noted now important it was to the Powhatan to obtain and retain possession of copper. William Strachey indicated Powhatan traders wanted copper, white beads, hoes and axes — in that order.3 John Smith records that they would do almost anything for copper kettles, 4 items usually cut up to make ornaments. 5 A m o n g northern groups, the only two capital offenses were the stealing of copper or corn, implying they were equally crucial to the survival of the community. 6 Information from several European observers indicates it was only certain "Indians of the better sorte," as t h e y put it, a m o n g the P o w h a t a n and other native groups along the east coast who actually used copper. These individuals wore copper headdresses, beads and gorgets on specific extraordinary and solemn occasions. 7 Men, w o m e n and children were included and clearly represented an elite of some sort. Some of them were buried in their copper ornaments. 8 If copper constituted the economic wealth of individuals or groups, this last practice would be illogical. However, given the proposition that copper represented a repository for spiritual power and that certain individuals w o u l d interact with and control that power in ways that were beneficial to the community, the most reasonable t h i n g to do w i t h copper on the death of those who used it well, would be to bury it with them. It Powhatan Copper 65 could naturally be assumed that in the afterlife, the individual w o u l d continue to manipulate the power resident in the copper to the advantage of those left behind. Thus, the community would be assured of continuing benefits from the copper and, at the very least, effectively prevent its falling into the wrong hands and working to t h e d e t r i m e n t of the g r o u p , e i t h e r t h r o u g h ignoranceor malice. 9 The source of copper for the Powhatan was probably the same source exploited most often by prehistoric groups. John Smith stated that virtually all their copper came from the Bowotauwanaukes, . .people of the place of the fire.' This group was said to obtain pure copper by separating it from rock in the "hills to the northwest." 10 The people described were very like the Potowatomi, a name which has traditionally been translated "people of the place of the fire" as well. They lived in what is now Wisconsin and Michigan, ranging from Green Bay to Detroit in historic times, and apparently c o n t r o l l e d the m o v e m e n t of copper f r o m the Lake Superior area to the tribes further south. Most groups utilizing copper at contact associated it with the basic forces and elements of the earth —weather, wind, water and fire. Symbols that were used over and over on prehistoric copperwork suggest a similar significance, although, of course, it is impossible to knowtheirspecific meanings. 11 A m o n g the Powhatan and allied groups, copper was hung in images of certain supernatural beings.12 It was also used as an offering to a particular one of them when rain was needed or when they suffered from an o v e r a b u n d a n c e of it. 13 C h i l d r e n w e r e occasionally thrown into the fire as an offering to this same being which indicates the level of importance accorded that influence and the offerings made to it. Copper was also thrown into the rough waters of rivers and the sea in order to calm them, pacifying the powers believed to cause such disturbances. 14 Their interest in the political organization of native groups caused European observers to record much regarding the political functions of copper. Unfortunately, their insistence on interpreting those functions in terms of Old World political structures almost always resulted in an inaccurate appraisal of politics in the New World. The observations of chroniclers generally imply that the social and political stature of the Powhatan elite who possessed and wore copper was based upon birth and wealth, a position maintained by forcing the rest of the populace to pay tribute to them in copper and less exotic goods. Thus, these "Indians of the better sorte" were deemed the ruling class and their leader, a king or 66 Ph0ebus 4 queen. Such assumptions were natural enough since, in many cases, the possession and display of copper was the only thing that distinguished persons of apparently great political power from others in the society.15 For example, Chief Powhatan's ability to extract "tribute" or "vital" in copper from all the other headmen in the area was apparently the only thing that made him obviously differentfrom all of them. 16 However, this picture of a highly structured society ruled by an absolute monarch does not coincide with what we know of Native North American social and political structures, nor does it c o l l a b o r a t e other facts regarding Powhatan life and lifestyle. I w o u l d s u g g e s t , instead, that Chief Powhatan headed a kinship group within the Virginia Algonkians which was entrusted, by tradition, w i t h the care and ceremonial display of copper, a material deemed vitally important to the well being of the entire community. Such an arrangement is not uncommon in native American societies. Apparently, among the Powhatan, the only means by which one not born into copper stewardship could possess it, was through deeds of extraordinary value to the community. Such deeds were acknowleged by a ceremony in which the individual was given a new name and presented w i t h a small a m o u n t of copper. 17 The valor shown in the deed done apparently demonstrated the individual's worthiness to be entrusted with copper and instructed in the rituals appropriate to its significance and proper use. If this interpretation of the Powhatan situation is correct, it is probable that copper was not necessarily extracted from the headmen of surrounding tribes by force, but was given willingly to that group perceived to be most capable of utilizing it beneficially on everyone's behalf. The other goods that early chroniclers interpreted as part of this " t r i b u t e " were likely a form of assistance to these t r a d i t i o n a l guardians of copper, whose ceremonial functions prevented their full participation in subsistence activities. Admittedly, the documents suggest that the inclusion of individual tribes in this religio-political system in which copper played such an important part may not always have been a matter of choice. Some may have been forced to join the so-called "Confederacy," but it would hardly have been the first time a grand plan with a religious basis was forced upon unwilling "converts." This kind of arrangement would help to explain a rather curious practice of the Powhatan. The many w o m e n w h o bore children to Chief Powhatan left the Chief's household after giving birth. An early European Powhatan Copper 67 observer noted this and stated that thereafter mother and child were "provided f o r " with copper and beads until the child was weaned and returned to Powhatan. 18 It w o u l d appear that the copper and beads were not used as currency but rather served as a validation of the mother's new ceremonial status, by virtue of having borne Powhatan child. Her possession of copper meant that her needs and those of the child should and would be met by other members of the community. Defined as a leader whose political power stemmed from his spiritual and ceremonial status, a number of observations regarding Chief Powhatan seem more understandable. For example, John Smith was somewhat puzzled at the reverence in which Powhatan was held, which seemed to be beyond that demanded by his political position. The "Chief" was esteemed as "halfe a g o d , " he w r i t e s , and . .at the least f r o w n e of his browe, their greatest spirits will tremble with fear."19 The above suggestions regarding the significance of copper w i t h i n Powhatan society sheds new light upon their perception of the English, as well. Europeans must have presented quite an anomaly, for despite their possession of large amounts of copper, they seemed quite incapable of manipulating it to their advantage in their early attempts to survive in the New World. On the other hand, the extraordinary abilities of European weaponry must have been perceived as special control of powers in other areas. Nancy Lurie has pointed out that Chief Powhatan's primary motiviation in promoting the marriage of this daughter Pochahantas to John Rolfe was his interest in English copper and firearms. 20 This combination of interests is hardly coincidental. If copper was perceived to be a repository of power entrusted by tradition to a specific kin group, this entire episode makes even more logical sense. If copper was the basis of his own powers, Chief Powhatan was very likely c o n v i n c e d that the extraordinary powers possessed by English weaponry lay in the almost endless supply of copper they maintained. Smith, Rolfe and the others were probably believed to be members of a kin group among whites with a ceremonial role that paralleled his own, by virtue of their possession of great amounts of copper. Thus, the marriage of Rolfe and Pochahantas represented a very natural union of equals in the eyes of the Powhatan, an extension of the traditional kinship arrangement that greatly multiplied the store of power available to the community. It is interesting to note that it was not until this marital alliance that the Powhatan taught the Europeans how to grow tabacco, another important element in the ceremonial life of the Virginia Indians.21 68 Ph0ebus 4 One of the most intriguing details regarding the use of copper by the Powhatan was recorded by Ralph Lane. After Chief Powhatan's death and relations w i t h the English began to deteriorate, his people used great quantities of copper to "bribe" native groups friendly to the English into joining a united uprising againstthem. 22 It is suggested here that it was not bribery. Rather, the Powhatan used the copper as a universally understood manifestation of power to legitimize their leadership position in the uprising and as proof that the balance of power was on their side. Just as the exchange and accumulation of copper formed the basis for the legitimized the so-called Powhatan Confederacy under Chief Powhatan, it offered visible proof that the uprising was sanctioned and s u p p o r t e d by the supernatural beings associated w i t h copper. This w o u l d not have been the only situation in which copper functioned as the basis of an alliance between native groups in early contact times. The copper plates of the Tuchabachee Creeks were the foundation of a religio-political union between themselves and the Shawnee. 23 Basic elements of design on copper work from the eastern United States s h o w remarkable c o n t i n u i t y through the thousands of years — so much so, that it seems the essential concepts associated w i t h that material could not have changed greatly during those centuries. The basic knowledge of it, its source and its power potential must have been passed down relatively unaltered. That is to suggest that the essential aspects of copper usage among the Powhatan reflect a core of significance that obtained prehistorically as well: specifically its control by certain kin groups; its association with basic elements and forces of the earth; and its use as a vehicle for the organization and extension of religiousand religio-political alliances. The last of these offers the most significant clues as to how sufficient economic and political organization to effect the construction of prehistoric earthworks could have been established. When times were good, there was no need to utilize the powers available in copper, which always included risks. However, when migration, changes in climate, improved methods of food production, etc., caused rapid population growth and the resulting tensions, those powers could be called upon to resolve the crisis. Considerable evidence suggests that the power and significance of copper may have been almost universally appreciated and understood in the prehistoric eastern United States. If so, copper could provide the vehicle for a rapid increase in the complexity of a society, a focus for united effort which did not require much alteration in the social or economic orga- Powhatan Copper 69 nization of participant groups. The crisis would provide sufficient motivation for whatever changes were necessary and the possession of copper, the legitimization of a leadership role for w h o m e v e r took the initiative to invoke its power. The only major changes in lifestyle and culture w o u l d take place in the immediate social group of this individual or individuals. The support of this group would be primarily in the form of perishable goods and the groups providing that support w o u l d not be required to alter their own lifestyle and organization materially to do so. Thus, when, for whatever reason, the increased level of cultural c o m p l e x i t y was no longer essential (the crisis met), everything could return to its previously decentralized and comparatively simple status very quickly. In fact, the remains of most prehistoric and early contact groups utilizing copper suggest such a series of circumstances could have occurred. These societies usually appear as pockets of cultural complexity amidst c o n t e m p o r a r i e s w h o seem largely unaffected. Each seems to blossom fairly quickly and disappear with like speed. Most grew up in areas of comparatively dense population and, often, the level of cultural complexity is in direct proportion to the relative limitation of subsistence resources. The preceding scenario represents a generalization of both archaeological and historical facts. Although it clearly simplifies the complex cultural situation surrounding the copper complex, it cannot be denied that the bulk of the evidence points in these directions. Thus, this kind of approach will prove the most valid in the continuing effort to identify and understand the prehistoric peoples of the eastern United States and theirart. Marsha CliftBol Lakota Beaded Costumes of the Early Reservation Era Lakota Girl. Courtesy Colorado Historical Society, 188WPA. Figure 3. A l t h o u g h generally unrecognized, a flowering of the beaded costume of the Lakota, also known as the Teton or Western Sioux, occurred during the early reservation p e r i o d of t h e late n i n e t e e n t h and early t w e n t i e t h centuries. How might we account for such an artistic burst of energy given the extreme stress and severe societal disruption which these people were encountering during this time period? For a fuller understanding of the ingredients of this efflorescence it is necessary to examine the roleof costume inthe prior period. The Lakota costume occupied a central position in pre-reservation Sioux society. It functioned as a form of graphic rather than verbal communication in reinforcing the roles and positions of its societal members. For the Lakota male, costume was an important avenue for conveying success and fame as a warrior, as well as gaining honor and prestige throught the wearing of fine apparel. S y m b o l s of a c h i e v e m e n t s , painted in the representational style by the warrior, and the geometric decoration quilled and beaded by his wife and female relatives on his shirts, leggings, and moccasins, communicated his skills and prowess to the rest of his society. Fine clothing was a highly prized gift which reinforced his position as a generous man by serving as an i m p o r t a n t exchange item in the institution of the giveaway It was the Lakota woman who produced the majority of the clothing required by her husband, brothers, and children. Skill in beadwork and quill work provided an avenue of reflected prestige both for herself and her family. So highly prized were the feminine virtues of industry and artistic skill that they were institutionalized as societies and guilds. Large allotments of time were necessary in order to a c c o m p l i s h the m a n u f a c t u r e of these costumes. In order to accommodate art, an extraordinary division of labor occurred between a daughter of child-bearing age and her m o t h e r (or m o t h e r - i n - l a w ) . As reported by Mirsky, until the mother was very old, past seventy, she continued to help her daughter by caring for the small 72 Ph0ebus 4 children and doing much of the heavy labor. Mirsky states: During this period the daughter takes over the pleasanter, sedentary tasks of porcupine work, while the mother tans the hides, or the daughter does the fancywork on pair after pair of moccasins while her mother sews the soles on and finishes them. If a daughter of 35 tans the skins while her mother does porcupine quillwork, people will say, "She tans hides at her age!" "She is still doing embroidery!" 1 Lakota clothing functions as a personal identifier as evidenced by the following statement: "Borrowing of anything is permissible and common, but not personal apparel or o r n a m e n t s . . .They make fun of someone w h o wears even her mother's s h a w l . . .'That family lends each other shawls, you cannot tell one individual from another'.. . " 2 Lakota costume also acted as a collective identifier, in much the same way as the description by Bogatyrev in his discussion of folk costumes, of the ethnic pride of the group in wearing what he terms "our costume." 3 In short, as the Lakota entered the reservation era, they were wearing clothing which served as both a personal identifier and a group identifier. In the final decades of the nineteenth century, a rapid succession of historical events fostered a breakdown of Sioux society. In 1868, the large Sioux Reservat i o n was established in western South Dakota. The Battle of Little Big Horn in 1876 brought the defeat of Custer and with it the white retaliatory campaign which spelled the final military defeat for the Sioux. At that point the majority of the Sioux moved onto the reservation. In 1881 the U.S. government prohibited the holding of the Sun Dance henceforth; and the last great buffalo hunt was held in 1882, the final buffalo killed by a Lakota in 1883. The cumulative effect of these events was staggering. Whereas "in 1880 the political, social, and religious structure of the Teton Sioux remained largely intact," the decade f o l l o w i n g ushered in an era of profound stress. 4 Many Lakota institutions could not withstand such drastic change. Warfare, one of the primary activities of the men, was no longer possible. As a result war societies ceased to function, and the principal means of attaining prestige, rank, and wealth vanished. The tribal economy collapsed with the disappearance of the buffalo. Without the buffalo, traditional diet and the materials for many objects of material culture perished, as did another means for the Sioux h u n t e r - w a r r i o r to gain r e c o g n i t i o n . The r e l i g i o u s f r a m e w o r k was vastly weakened w i t h the ban on the Sun Dance. As MacGregor notes: Lakota Beaded Costumes 73 This p r o h i b i t i o n of the Sun Dance took away not only much of the security which religion gave to the people but also the public regarding and sanctioning of social life and social institutions. The ending of this reinforcement of the Dakota custom and the instruction of the young people by observation and participation contributed greatly to the weakening of social controls and the crumbling of Dakota culture. 5 In the wake of these combined losses, additional pressures were brought to bear by the U.S. government which replaced buffalo with rations and farming implements, substituted Christianity and missionaries for the Sun Dance, and replaced Lakota chiefs w i t h government agents. The combination of these events was particularly devastating for the Lakota male. Luther Standing Bear, a Lakota chief, records: "It was as if a runner suddenly felt the ground beneath his feet disappear, leaving him off balance and plunging over a precipice." 6 The male role has been completely undermined leaving him stripped of his function as protector and provider and with no means for achieving cultural approval through warrior status and hunting prowess. It is therefore not surprising that the Ghost Dance, which provided hope for return of the old life was a powerful attraction in 1889. "Wounded Knee drove home the impossibility of escape f r o m white subjugation." 7 Lakota men, experiencing tremendous despair, often resorted to non-productivity, apathy, and alcohol. Ella Deloria states: It was they [Lakota men] who suffered the most from the enforced change, whether they realized it or not. It was their life primarily that was wrecked; it was their exclusive occupation that was abruptly ended. The w o m e n could go right on bearing children and rearing them. They could cook, feed their families, set up and strike camp unaided, pack and unpack when on a trip. Even embroidery, exclusively a woman's art, was not cut off suddenly.. .The man was the tragic f i g u r e . . .And so he sat by the hour indifferent and inactive, w a t c h i n g — perhaps envying — his wife, as she went right on working at the same essential roleof woman. 8 Thus it was left to Lakota w o m e n to maintain the cultural traditions, as has been confirmed in a 1960 study on the Pine Ridge and Rosebud reservations by an economist and a social-clinical psychologist. Hagan and Shaw who found: Their [women's] transition to life as captives in the reservations allowed them to carry into the new way of life their 74 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 1. Lakota beaded saddle blanket. Late 19th century. Maxwell M u seum of Antropology, University of New Mexico. old roles of mother and w i f e as private affairs, left untouched for a long period after the men lost their special function of dealing with problems outside the family and the group. As they [the w o m e n ] came to acquire more a u t o n o m y as the persons responsible for the maintenance and support of family life, they became even freer to continue to raise their children as they were taught children should be raised. The traditional values held by the older people reinforced the role of the mother as a cultural refuge where Sioux practices could be kept alive beyond the reach of external suppression. That refuge became increasingly more crucial as children had to be surrendered to white schools at a younger age.9 The Lakota w o m a n continued to f o l l o w the pathway of industry and arts. As in pre-reservation days, the costumes which she manufactured acted as a contribution to her family and her society. She had to confront, however, two new conditions: 1) the vacancy left by her masculine counter-part for achieving and maintaining group identity, and 2) the everpresent threat of white assimilation. Lakota women responded to this changed situation by creating some of the most elaborate beaded costumes in Lakota history, which are characterized by increased c o m p l e x i t y of pattern, complete beading of items, incorporation of new forms, and inclusion of the pictorial image in the repertoire. Increased complexity of pattern after 1875 has been noted by Lyford.10 It was Lakota Beaded Costumes 75 Figure 2. Lakota girl's fully beaded dress. Late 19th century. Winona Trading Post, Santa Fe, New Mexico. during this time that the Lakota developed beadwork patterns distinctively their own, which are characterized by delicate, nervous line, and complex compositions constructed of g e o m e t r i c elements, particularly triangles,forked lines, and terraces.11 (Figure 1). In addition to complexity of design, a tendency to bead items completely was initiated during the reservation period. Pohrt, one of the few to note this change,states: The artistic appeal of a particular item seems, in part, to have been determined by the number of square inches of beadwork used. A tendency to bead objects completely may be seen on examples of every item the Sioux produced at this t i m e . . .The ultimate examples of this aest h e t i c i s m are c o m p l e t e l y beaded dresses. The sheer weight of the glass beads w o u l d have made wearing of these dresses an unpleasant experience. 12 Many of these beaded dresses were made for young Lakota girls (Figure 2). Certainly wearing-comfort and practicality were not the t h o u g h t s uppermost in the minds of the makers. It must be remembered, however, that it was the children who were the particular target of assimilation through education. In the late nineteenth century, the U.S. government, in an all-out effort to expeditiously assimilate the Indian into w h i t e society, m a n d a t e d the w e a r i n g of w h i t e c l o t h i n g by Indian school children. As Standing Bear recalls: "At Carlisle 76 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 4. Lakota pictorial beaded vest. Late 19th century. Winona Trading Post, Santa Fe, New Mexico. the t r a n s f o r m i n g , the ' c i v i l i z i n g ' process began. It began w i t h c l o t h e s . N e v e r . . . c o u l d we be civilized while wearing moccasins and blankets." 13 By creating particularly fine traditional clothing for her children, a m o t h e r f o u n d one v e h i c l e to c o m b a t the t h r e a t of assimilation (Figure 3). The item w h i c h became the foremost symbol of ethic identity was the beaded moccasin, whose longevity outlasted all other items. Here again the Lakota woman, during the reservation period, took the opportunity not only to fully bead the upper moccasin but the s o l e as w e l l , e s c h e w i n g p r a c t i c a l i t y in f a v o r of elaboration. Lacking buckskin, a basic material in the pre-reservation period, the Lakota craftswoman incorporated new materials and new forms into her repertoire, without sacrificing the integrity of her art. She had long before recognized the o p p o r t u n i t i e s available w i t h w h i t e man's goods, for instance, glass beads w h i c h were found particularly appealing. For her husband and her sons she developed a unique amalgamation of the white man's cloth vest, available as an annuity good, which was either beaded fully so that none of the cloth remained visible or recreated in cowhide and beads.14 (Figure 4). The fully-beaded vest served as a succesful union of a new f o r m w i t h a t r a d i t i o n a l style of decoration which allowed for placing one foot into the white man's Lakota Beaded Costumes 77 w o r l d while continuing the Sioux traditions. The vest may also have functioned as a filter in the manner that Deveraux has suggested in his discussion of the nature and functions of art; that is, that art may make outside influences safe to confront by translating them into a culturally acceptable form. 1 5 The f o r m found special favor with those who traveled with the Wild West shows and a r o u n d the t u r n of the century w i t h the newlyemergent Sioux cowboy. The introduction of pictorial imagery into beadwork is found particularly on vests and pipebags, both items owned by men. Representational f o r m s traditionally were the exclusive prerogative of the Lakota male, strictly enforced by the sexual division of labor.16 One of the new conditions facing the Lakota female, however, was the vacancy left by the lack of masculine fulfillment of role in art as well as other endeavors. A possible explanation for the assumption of the pictorial style by the Sioux w o m a n may have been in an endeavor to maintain the tradition of recording heroic events as well as traditional Sioux life t h r o u g h her own medium of beadwork. Wissler described a boy's pictorially beaded vest as the object of military decoration and "claimed to reflect the deeds of the family," a task formerly performed by painted clothing decorated by male artists.17 A further indication of the significant role which costume continued to play in the reservation era was the adoption and use of the Ghost Dance dress in 1889. The costume of the Ghost Dance assumed the function of a form of rebellion against the usage of white products, and as a powerful source of protection from the enemy, in this case, military bullets. Although the Ghost Dance costume quickly proved inadequate to the task, the beaded costume continued to be produced into the 1920's. Severe societal disruption, ratherthan signaling the eclipse of an art form, was responded to by Lakota women with an intensification of the beaded costume. The traditional Lakota use of costume as a form of protection and cultural identification was a vehicle employed in the endeavor to contend with the external threat of assimilation and the internal threat of societal breakdown. Susan G. Kenagy The Emergence of Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics During the Late Prehistoric Period This paper stems from an interest in studying not only the form, but the evolution of form, in late nineteenth and twentieth century ritual Pueblo ceramics. Although there is some latitude for variation, particularly in terms of c o m m e r c i a l i z a t i o n , these vessels are b a s i c a l l y stereotypical in shape as well as in motif and arrangement of motif. Immediately recognizable, for example, is the circular bowl with four crenellated projections or rim terraces from Zuni Pueblo; the squared bowl form from Hopi, with its four terraces and single loop handle; and the circular form with a single terrace from the Tewa Pueblos. The terraced rim is perhaps the most definite marker indicating a ritual function for a ceramic vessel, and is commonly found in association with design elem e n t s that are p r i m a r i l y w a t e r - o r i e n t e d , i n c l u d i n g toads, tadpoles, and dragonflies, as well as the horned, plumed serpent. These elements are usually arranged in a formalized way, w i t h four major motifs or motif groupings used on both exterior and interior walls; and often in combination with a more dominant central element in the bowl interior. Although the majority of pieces appearing on the commercial market or in museum collections date after 1870, the formal origins of these vessels may be traced back much earlier in t i m e , to the Anasazi Pueblo IV period, ca. AD 1300 to 1600. This paper will focus on the development of a single aspect of ritual form which first appears in this late prehistoric period — the crenellated terrace rim. Perhaps, however, a few preliminary definitions or clarifications are in order. The term "ritual" is a nonconnotative category, to separate primarily by function certain ceramic types f r o m those which are primarily e m p l o y e d in the secular or t e m p o r a l sphere of life (although the division may often be rather ambiguous). Mortuary wares have also been eliminated from this discussion, which will focus solely on those ceramics which appear to have been created specifically for the p e r f o r m a n c e of religious ceremony, and are distinguished visually by a highly patterned structure of form, Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics 79 design, and composition. However, it is not necessary to the definition that these pieces be used in a strictly sacerdotal way, or within the context of highly formalized ritual performance, for a number of pieces have been recovered from habitation rooms rather than from kiva chambers. Some were likely used in everyday observance; others employed in more formalized ritual, were likely kept in p r i v a t e r o o m s f o r s t o r a g e , and t h e n brought into the kiva when needed. It appears that these vessels served primarily as receptacles used to contain materials of significance to the performance of ceremony, bearing designs that may have represented some of the more important religious themes. These specialized ritual forms emerge in the late prehistoric period in the Southwest; certain of these vessels seem to observers more labor-intensive than functional in f o r m , and consequently non-secular in function. Some of these ceramic forms appear earlier. The stirrup spout vessel and the annular vessel appear as early as the Basketmaker III period, ca. AD 500-700, are widely distributed geographically, and persist as late as the s e v e n t e e n t h to n i n e t e e n t h centuries. 1 It should be noted parenthetically that these forms rather clearly derive from Mesoamerican sources, with similar examples found at sites in Northwest and Central Mexico; and that they occur in contemporaneous sites in the prehistoric Southeastern United States as well. However, as v i s u a l l y striking and as persistent as these forms may be, they appear as essentially sporadic and eccentric pieces, only rarely made or employed in a ritual context. It is during the late prehistoric period, however, that a more regularized patterned type of ritual ceramic emerges, a development which may be viewed against the altering and unsettled social, economic, and envir o n m e n t a l background of the period. This is a time marked by the general abandonment of the San Juan region and other areas traditionally occupied by the Anasazi; resettlement t o w a r d the south and the Rio Grande Valley; and the establishment of consolidated villages by larger, more heterogeneous populations. With the dearth of rainfall, more emphasis was placed on ditch irrigation, drawing water off the Rio Grande and its numerous tributaries. An intensification of religious activity occurs, perhaps as a means of dealing w i t h new life-ways and uniting otherwise dissimilar groups of people in new economic endeavors. Also, it seems apparent that many of the religious concepts and m o t i f s in o p e r a t i o n are based upon Mesoamerican models, brought into the Pueblo Southwest first by visiting traders, and then later by population groups 80 Ph0ebus 4 H Figure 1. Restored Tonque Glaze bowl. Height 5.2 cm., diam. 11.8 cm. The Albuquerque Museum of Art, History and Science, 74.33/21. Figure 2. Restored Tonque Glaze bowl. Height 5.4 cm., diam. 13.8 cm. The Albuquerque Museum of Art History and Science, 74.33/16. fleeing the political upheavals associated with the collapse of Post-classic period Mesoamerican centers and trading posts. Evidence for the increased ritual emphasis at this time may be noted in the greater production of ritually-associated materials and the depiction of nonsecular themes, as seen in carved prayer sticks, painted alter tablets, tablita headdresses, and kiva murals. It is against this background that the development of the terraced rim projection will be examined. While the terraced projection is almost always present on nineteenth and twentieth century ritual ceramics, it is v i r t u a l l y absent on prehistoric pieces. However, the painted terrace motif was well known on earlier secular ceramics, and during the period under discussion, is also found quite frequently on a variety of ritual objects. In probably the best discussion of crenellated bowls, Watson Smith notes the absence of the modeled rim prior to the Pueblo IV period; he implies uncertainty as to its possible appearance during the Pueblo IV period, and indicates that the only terraced sherds found in the Southwest, from the Pecos site, were dated by Kidder to the seventeenth century. Citing the failure of archaeologists to find evidence for the existence of the terraced rim prior to AD 1300. Smith observes that its probable origin and date of adoption bythe Pueblos is unknown. 2 Smith is correct in that the most predominant ritual forms during the late prehistoric period are the small circular bowls or rectangular dishes, unterraced, and which, through ethnographic analogy, are believed to have functioned as receptacles for prayer-meal, small amounts of liquid, or special plants. The small circular bowl, rarely over ten centimeters in diameter and four c e n t i m e t e r s in h e i g h t , o c c u r s p r i m a r i l y in the Rio G r a n d e V a l l e y a n d on t h e J e m e z P l a t e a u , w h i c h includes sites in the Chama Valley, the Jemez Valley, and the Pajarito Plateau. Also, a few examples have been found in the Kayenta and Zuni areas. These dishes are primarily found at sites occupied during the middle to late fifteenth century. Examples f r o m the Rio Grande Valley are executed in typical areal glazes, dating ca. 1350-1550, while those from the Jemez Plateau occur in both glazes and the biscuit wares, primarily Biscuit B. ca. 1400-1550. Typical m o t i f s used in t h e Rio G r a n d e r e g i o n i n c l u d e e q u a l - a r m e d crosses, X's, parallel dashes, dragonflies, and an occational terrace, as illustrated by examples from Tonque Pueblo (Fig. 1 and Fig. 2). Design m o t i f s f r o m t h e J e m e z Plateau are u s u a l l y m o r e z o o m o p h i c in nature, as demonstrated in examples from the Pajarito Plateau (Fig. 3), and include horned snakes and frontal, spread-winged birds, tadpoles, and Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics 81 Figure 3. Bandelier Blackon gray bowl. Pajarito Plateau. Laboratory of Antropology 435i8/11. Courtesy Museum of New Mexico. i Mi Figure 4. Galesteo Glaze dish, San Marcos Ruin. Height 4.5 cm, length 12.0 cm. The Maxwell Museum of Anthropology, 46.15.1, University of New Mexico. Figure 5. Biscuit ware dish. Height 3.7 cm, length 10.1 cm. Louie Museum of Anthropology, 2-36380, University of California, Berkeley. dragonflies, often in c o m b i n a t i o n w i t h crosses and stepped terraces. Small rectangular dishes, usually under fourteen centimeters in length and five centimeters in height, also occur in the Rio Grande Valley, on the Pajarito Plateau, in the Galesteo Basin, at Pecos Pueblo, and in the Kayenta region (Fig. 4). Motifs again include terraces, dragonflies, and crosses. Obviously a small and symbolic vocabulary of design is being employed at thistime. However, of more particular interest to this discussion is the appearance of bowls and dishes which are topped by actually modeled terraces. A small, circular bowl with a terraced rim, from the Jemez region, has been published in both unreconstructed and reconstructed form. 3 The piece was executed in Jemez black/ w h i t e , w h i c h dates ca. AD 1300-1700. The bowl was found with one modeled terrace intact, of three levels; while the second terrace was added later by a conservator. The terrace is embellished by a second, painted terrace, divided medially into black and white halves, which may suggest of the pervading dualism found in the religious and economic structures of the historic Tanoan pueblos. Terraced rectangular vessels are only rarely encountered. Most of the examples have been recovered from sites on the Pajarito Plateau, where they occur primarily in biscuit ware and in glazes that date to the fifteenth century. Terraces are occasionally placed on the s h o r t sides of the vessel w h i l e the general pattern seems to be for placement on the long sides. Again, the cross and the p a i n t e d terrace m o t i f are e m p l o y e d (Figure 5). Regarding the paucity of examples, I would suggest that far more terraced pieces have been made than the literature or museum collections reflect. Due to their small size, these pieces may have been broken and overlooked, or may have been hidden away, or kept as prized heirlooms which may still be in use today. In fact, a piece identical in f o r m to Fig. 5 appears in a late 82 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 6. El Paso polychrome bowl, Twelve House Ruin. Height 16.8 cm, diam. 19.6 cm. University of Colorado Museum 26775. J nineteenth century illustration of an altar at the Hopi village of Oraibi. 4 Various types of terraced vessels have been examined thus far, but no suggestion has been made as to the source of their incorporation as a formal element. Smith suggests quite reasonably that the origin of the modeled rim lies in the terraces that were painted on the sides of bowls designed for ritual use.5 However, terraced m o t i f s t e n d to occur more f r e q u e n t l y on the interiors, rather than the exteriors of painted bowls, and these motifs may often be widely separated into half terraces. However, another factor to be considered is t h e a p p e a r a n c e of r i m m o d i f i c a t i o n in P u e b l o IV ceramics. Rim edges of b o w l s and jars have o f t e n been utilized as a field for decoration in prehistoric Southwest pottery, from a band of continuous dots or ticks in the Basketmaker III period to groupings of three or four dots in four discrete units in Pueblo IV. Perhaps of more significance is the idea of rim notching, which occurs in the White Mountain area of eastern Arizona, particularly at the Point of Pines site. Here, four equally spaced notches have been found ground into the rims of funerary jars and their covering bowls. The practice of cremation and notching appear closely related, with notching p o s s i b l y s e r v i n g as a w a y of " k i l l i n g " t h e vessel employed. 6 Notching seems to have developed as a local p h e n o m e n o n , ca. 1150-1400, although several notched bowls have been found in the Zuni area, dating after 1475, indicating a possible movement of people or ideas into the Zuni region after the abandonment of the Point of Pines site ca. 1450.7 Rim n o t c h i n g also occurs in ritual ceramics. It w o u l d appear that four indented notches were used first, as in examples from the Chama Valley (Jeancon 1923: p. 41), and then the clay itself was manipulated to form four pinched points, as in pieces from the Sapawe site, Chama Valley (Maxwell Museum of Anthropology 69.36.49). This quadripartite division of the vessel is often reinforced by the division of interior painted ele- Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics \ Figure 7. El Paso polychrome bowl, Twelve House Ruin. Height 15 cm, 10 cm., diam. 16.1 cm. University of Colorado Museum 26780. Figure 8. El Paso brownware bowl, Twelve House Ruin. Height 9.9 cm, 5.5 cm., d. 12.1 cm. University of Colorado Museum, 26781. 83 merits into four units as well. The corresponding significance of the number four in Pueblo religion, the concept of world quartering, the fourfold repetition of ritual elements in ceremony, as well as their possible derivation f r o m M e s o a m e r i c a n s o u r c e s can o n l y be b r i e f l y mentioned. Up to this point a variety and perhaps an evolution in ritual form in the late prehistoric Pueblo Southwest have been examined, from the small round or squared dishes with plain rims, to those with articulated rims, and finally to modeled terraces. But I would like to note three rather different, yet very important pieces which have not been critically discussed. These three vessels come from a site in the Hueco Bolson, known as Twelve House Pueblo, which was located approximately eight miles northeast of the present-day city of El Paso. They are of the type El Paso polychrome, a brownware, which dates ca. 1250-1350. These pieces are therefore quite likely older t h a n any of the terraced vessels noted above. The pieces were excavated in the 1941-42 season, published on 1947 by Moore, who identifies them as ordinary storage bowls w i t h "irregular scalloped rims" 8 (Figs. 6,7,8). The Hueco Bolson is geographically part of the territory once o c c u p i e d by the J o r n a d a Branch of the M o g o l l o n . Sherds found in the region indicate close trade contacts with the Mimbres Branch to the east, as w e l l as w i t h N o r t h e r n C h i h u a h u a , and, to a lesser extent, the White Mountain/Little Colorado and Zuni regions. In her study of Southwest rock art, Schaafsma finds that the Jornada pictorial style diffuses northward and is e v e n t u a l l y b o r r o w e d by t h e U p p e r Rio Grande Anasazi peoples after 1300, when elements from the rock art are i n c o r p o r a t e d into Rio Grande p o t t e r y decoraton and the painting of kiva walls. A m o n g the motifs used in Jornada petroglyphs are snakes, tadpoles, spread-winged birds, and terraces. Schaafsma generally dates the Jornada style ca. 950-1200, but extends its influence to ca. 1350-1400 in the Hueco region. She also notes a clear impetus from Mexican sources in terms of subject matter.9 If, as she suggests, the Upper Rio Grande Pueblo people borrowed a new art style and an associated ceremonial complex, they m a y w e l l have b o r r o w e d t h e idea of r i m t e r r a c e d c e r e m o n i a l vessels. Thus, a p r o b a b l e source, t i m e period, and mechanism for the introduction of the terraced vessel can be suggested. It is likely that the terrace design derives originally from North Mexican or even Central Mexican sources, and terraced alter forms have been recovered from the 84 Ph0ebus 4 site of Casas Grandes in Chihuahua. It is generally a s s u m e d that t h e terrace design in the S o u t h w e s t derives from the abstraction of piled rain clouds into a terrace form, as seen for example, in murals at the Pottery Mound site. This may be a local interpretation of the terrace form, one borrowed from Mesoamerica, or a secondary or projective explanation, used or incorporate a motif whose form may have been assumed, but whose original meaning might have lost its significance in transmission. Associations between the terrace form and Tlaloc, the rain god of Central Mesoamerica, are rather clear, as is evidence for the adoption of the rain god cult in the prehistoric Southwest. Di Peso suggests that the cult of Tlaloc, who is usually represented in Mesoamerica with a terraced head and large circular eyes, entered the Southwest after 1340.10 But there is evidence for his p r e s e n c e p r i o r t o 1200, in r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s f r o m Mimbres pottery, where rather ambiguous figures with s q u a r e d heads and c i r c u l a r eyes are s h o w n w i t h stepped terraced attached to or placed above their heads. Terraced ceramic or stone ornaments were used o n r o o f s a n d a l t a r s at C e n t r a l M e x i c a n s i t e of T e o t i h u a c a n , ca. 300 to 650, w h i c h m i r r o r e d t h e pyramidal f o r m of the temple platforms, and these, Kubler s u g g e s t s , m a y m e t a p h o r i c a l l y represent a mountain topped by a cloud. 11 The Aztecs, ca. 1350 to 1550, also believed their pyramids to be man-made m o u n t a i n s f i l l e d w i t h water, and represented their stepped pyramids in codices by the terraced form. The possibility that the ceramic rim terrace represented mountains as well as clouds to the prehistoric Pueblo people mustalso be considered. 12 However, as an alternative interpretation, several tiered stone objects have been recovered from the site of Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, Mexico, the major frontier trade center between Central Mesoamerica and the Southwest. Here Di Peso identifies the terrace design as one associated with dead worriors and connected with the cult of Xiutecuhtli, the Mesoamerican Fire God.13 Xiutecuhtli has been identified by early Spanish chroniclers as a god highly revered by Mexican merchants, w h o celebrated his festival, significantly enough, by catching snakes, water creatures, and birds, and then eating them. 14 Also, offerings to the Fire God were found in shrines below kiva fire boxes at a number of sites in the Chama Valley, as well as in West Mexico. 15 Terraced stone objects, similar to those found at Casas Grandes, have also been recovered at sites in the Pecos and Tularosa Valleys and at Pecos Pueblo itself.16 Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics 85 The " d e a d w a r r i o r " m o t i f , as f o u n d at Casas Grandes, is distinguished from the terraced design of the Upper Rio Grande by the acute angles of each terraced level, which is also quite evident in the El Paso polychrome vessels f r o m the Jornada M o g o l l o n site discussed earlier. Apparently, however, possible Warrior and Fire God associations may have eventually been lost, for at Hopi, for instance, the acute angled terrace is now known as the "cloud ladder."17 Thus it seems that the acute angled terrace form may have developed at Casas Grandes, m o v e d n o r t h w a r d to the Hueco region where it appeared on vessels, then to the Pecos Region, and the Upper Rio Grande. Comparisons w i t h terraced artifacts and motifs from the prehistoric Southeast are also noteworthy and suggestive of East-West diffusion. Examples include t w o vessels f r o m the M i d d l e M i s s i s s i p p i a n site of Moundville, Alabama (Museum of the American Indian 17/4404 & 18/419), w h i c h dates f r o m 1200, and is r o u g h l y c o n t e m p o r a n e o u s w i t h the Pueblo IV. Note should also be made of the terraced motif found on an engraved shell cup f r o m the Spiro site in Oklahoma ( M u s e u m of the A m e r i c a n Indian, Heye Foundation 18,9121). The imagery of the so-called Southern Cult, p r e d o m i n a n t at this t i m e , most probably also owes its inspiration to Mesoamerica. There is often a feeling a m o n g o b s e r v e r s t h a t t h e r e are g r e a t e r s i m i l a r ities between prehistoric Southwest and prehistoric Southeast than between either and their presumed Mesoamerican sources. Corresponding rim terraced ceramics do not seem to occur at Mexican sites. Puebloan trade pottery has been traced across Texas to at least the Louisiana border, and the possibility for a variety of contacts may be postulated, so there are certainly many streams of influence involved, many strands that remain tangled. To summarize, it seems that the acute angled terrace motif is employed at Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, in a ritual context, diffuses northward to the Hueco region where it appears on rim terraced vessels, then to the Pecos region, and finally to the Upper Rio Grande/Zuni areas, where it remains today the primary marker of ceramic ritual association. Barbara L. Moulard Form, Function and Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Hemispheric Vessels An understanding of the cultural and historical context of an art form is crucial to an understanding of its meaning. Two aspects of cultural context that are often not synthesized into interpretations of prehistoric North American Indian art are the process by which an art object was made and its utility in the culture. Due to the lack of written records for ancient cultures, these are often not well understood. This paper briefly examines the process of manufacture, the form and the function of M i m b r e s painted ceramics in order to determine w h a t , if any, relationship these have to the designs painted on the interiors of the bowls. The meanings inferred in this study for the Mimbres hemispheric ceramic form are derived largely by ethnographic analogy using data f r o m historic and c o n t e m p o r a r y Pueblo Indian cultures. The Mimbres evolved from early Mogollon cultures and flourished in Southwestern New Mexico around AD 1000 but by the end of the twelfth century the culture was dispersed and the region was taken over by the intrusive Casas Grandes culture f r o m the south and later Salado p e o p l e s f r o m the west. However, the Mimbres culture appears to have been closely related economically and ideologically with the Anasazi that inhabited the region to the north of the Mimbres area.1 There is a clear chronological development of Anasazi culture into historic times represented by contemporary Pueblo societies of N o r t h e r n Arizona and New Mexico. When compared sociologically, economically and geographically the Mimbres and the Pueblos cultures are strikingly similar; and several ethnographic sources for the Pueblos testify to their conservative nature and the tenacity by which they have held on to their traditional social and religious institutions. The Mimbres archaeologist, Dr. Steven A. LeBlanc, recognized the similarities between these temporally disperate cultures. LeBlanc feels that "there is little need to suspect a direct relationship between the prehistoric M i m b r e s and the h i s t o r i c H o p i ; the Hopi c e r t a i n l y shared a broad common history and similar adaptation Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 87 to the Southwest environment." 2 He uses close ethnographic analogy to interpret the plant, food procurement and food processing, and to a great extent the social o r g a n i z a t i o n of the Mimbres. 3 F o l l o w i n g the same methods, ethnographic analogy can be used to establish the ideological context in which Mimbres art was created. Any discussion of traditional fine arts incorporates an analysis of the process by which the object was made as well as its original physical context. Generally speaking, most interpretations of Mimbres ceramic art have viewed the painted images separately from the object on which they appear 4 either by reproducing the image without the ceramic background 5 or by discussing the compositions without relating them to the form. 6 The significance of the use of the form as a vehicle for the paintings has never been examined. This is due in large part to the fact that ceramics have been relegated by scholars and writers to utilitarian use while the images often seem to have other than secular meaning. As J. J. B r o d y states in a d i s c u s s i o n of M i m b r e s p a i n t e d pottery: The utility of the vessels on w h i c h Mimbres paintings were made is obvious. They were containers for food, water, ritual objects, and a great variety of other things, and many were ultimately used as mortuary offerings. The utility of the paintings is not so easily assumed or demonstrated. They have little or no relation to vessel use, and they underline the proposition that the function of a utilitarian object should not be confused with the decoration on it. A picture is not a pot; they mean different things, are used for different purposes, and function in different ways for different ends. 7 Granted, it is most likely that the hemispheric vessel was thought of, and used, by the prehistoric Mimbres as a bowl. Archaeologically it has been shown that many of the painted wares exhibit use either f r o m interior scraping or exterior scorching. However, the majority of these painted h e m i s p h e r i c vessels as w e l l as plain brownware and blackware hemispheric vessels survive today because of their placement in graves. Harriet S. C o s g r o v e a n d C o r n e l i u s B. C o s g r o v e n o t e d the predominance of hemispheric vessels in graves and stated that: The prevailing custom, so nearly universal in the Mimbres country that it must have some religious significance, was to invert over the skull a single b o w l . . .the arrangement, w h e n there was more than one in the grave, had been either to nest the bowls over the head, or to invert one over the skull and the other on the body or at one side. 8 88 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 1. Classic Mimbres black-on-white ceramic hemispheric vessel with a nine figure procession scene, ca. AD 1000, to 1150 Upper Gila River region, New Mexico H: 10 x 22 cm Private collection, Photo c. 1982 John Bigelow Taylor It becomes clear that the Mimbres had a preference for the hemispheric vessel as mortuary furniture. As suggested by the Cosgroves, it would appear that the form, or at least the act of placing the bowl over the head of the deceased, had significance for the Mimbres. However mundane these objects appear to be, it would be negligent to disregard their form, function and process of manufacture in an investigation of the images that appearon them. The Mimbres differentiated between paintedwares, plainwares and corrugatedwares and other utilitarian vessels. Storage jars and cooking vessels were left unslipped and often coils were not scraped but were textured to create a corrugated surface which enhanced heat retention. 9 The paintedwares had relatively soft friable white kaolin clay slipped interiors. Well-preserved examples retain a carefully patinated surface suggesting their preparation for use as f o o d bowls. 1 0 Some show unmistakable interior surface damage and many exhibit staining f r o m organic material. 1 1 However, a case can be made for the assertion that the function of the f o r m in the living culture and the function of the f o r m as a mortuary offering were mutually exclusive and that the latter was anticipated and equally as significant for the Mimbres astheformer. M o g o l l o n black-on-white ceramics were traded outside the Mimbres area. They are found at Snaketown 12 and Hohokam sites in the Tucson Basin of Arizona 1 3 and at Paquime 1 4 to list a f e w o c c u r e n c e s . Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 89 Figure 2. Classic Mimbres black-on-white ceramic hemispheric vessel with an eight figure procession scene, ca. AD 1000, to 1150 Mimbres River Valley region, New Mexico H:11.4x 24.7 cm Private collection Photo copyright, 1982 John Bigelow Taylor However, these make up a small percentage of intrusive pottery at these sites and are usually the Three Circle Phase, b o l d f a c e s t y l e of p o t t e r y p a i n t i n g . Classic Mimbres black-on-white and polychrome, especially those w i t h representational decoration, rarely found their way outside the Mimbres area and appear to have been concentrated in the Mimbres and upper Gila River drainages. While the more generalized geometric designs on hemispheric vessels may have crossed cultural lines the more pictorial style evidently remained within the Mimbres boundaries 15 suggesting that the latter were held in high esteem by the Mimbres and e v e n m a y have b e e n m a d e e x c l u s i v e l y f o r t h e i r own use. The economic use of the hemispheric painted vessel seems to have been limited. Few similar compositions are found and no two are exactly alike suggesting that painted vessels were kept or taken out of circulation before images could be memorized by different artists. Instead, similarities in compositions, subject matter and t h e m e s suggest a shared ideology rather than a knowledge of specific prototypic images (Fig. 1, 2). Many of these painted vessels exhibit no sign of wear and are in such good condition that it is felt that they were either handled with extreme care or were disposed of shortly after their manufacture. Many of these are poorly fired and w a r p e d , and thus ill-suited for utilitarian purposes. As Clara Lee Tanner points out: 90 Ph0ebus 4 Seemingly, these [Mimbres] potters were not too careful when they fired their wares, for many dark firing clouds appear and frequently bowls are misshapen. This carelessness may indicate that the vessels were not made for utility purposes but rather, were explicitly and perhaps hurriedly produced for burials. 16 This is not a case against the utility of the form as a bowl but a suggestion that their use as such may have been temporary and that the form also functioned and had meaning in a funerary rite and that in some cases this was a primary concern of the ceramist at the time of manufacture. The actual use of the bowl is not as easily demonstrated as may be assumed or expected. There is very little data available about the function of the hemispheric bowl outside its use in Mimbres burials. There is no c e r t a i n t y t h a t t h e y w e r e used f o r f o o d , water, ceremonial containers or anything else however likely this would appear. As Brody points out, "these painted vessels may have been made and used for other purposes, but in the end they were buried and the art bec a m e a m o r t u a r y o n e . " 1 7 If t h e p a i n t i n g s are the mortuary art and the hemispheric form of the ceramics is of little consequence to their meaning or purpose, then one may expect that over the six or seven generation of Mimbres ceramic production, the form w o u l d flatten out to afford a surface more conducive to painting. Shallow painted bowls do exist from the Mimbres area. These however, tend to be the Boldface variety. Although exact dating is problematic for Mimbres ceramics it has been established that the Boldface style predates the Classic Mimbres style and probably continued into the later period to fall into disuse in the last quarter of the eleventh century.18 If this development is true, then if anything, the form of the hemispheric vessels does not seem simply one of practicality. Other ceramic forms such as ollas, ladles, seed jars and on rare occurrences effigy figures were painted and placed in graves.19 These are few and exceedingly scarce when compared to the number of painted hemispheric vessels retrieved f r o m Mimbres burials. 20 Other contemporaneous prehistoric cultures, such as the Hohokam, utilized a much wider range of painted vessel forms than did the Mimbres. Up until the close of the Classic Mimbres Period ceramic phase, the bowl form was the preferred funerary offering and the preferred surface for painted decoration even though it created technical and compositional problems for the artist. The tenacity for the form was due to preference, not to an ignorance of alternatives. Stylistic analysis suggest that the hemispheric form Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 91 Figure 3. Classic Mimbres Black-on-white ceramic (warped) hemispheric vessel with a quartered geometric rim band, ca. AD 1000, to 1150 Mimbres River Valley region, New Mexico H: 12 x 19 x 2 6 c m Private collection, Photograph c.1982 John Bigelow Taylor is as much a part of the artistic statement as the painted image. Distorted, warped bowls were painted as if they were hemispheric (Figure 3). Great care was taken even w i t h c o m p l i c a t e d narratives, w h i c h may have been more successfully rendered on a flat surface, to adjust the pictorial and illusionistic subject matter to the concave surface of the bowl. Concerning this aspect of the art f o r m Brody points out that "everything followed from the basic premise that paint was applied to the surface of the vessel as a sort of skin, hugging it and adjusting its t w o - d i m e n s i o n a l i t y to the three-dimensional reality of the space enclosed by the vessel/' 22 A pot is not a picture but a pot is not a pot when it is no longer treated like a pot. On rare occasions the form of a utilitarian object may be lifted from its pedestrian role to be transferred to another in which it transcends its original meaning. There are thousands of different Mimbres painted images that are found on similarly shaped, thin walled ceramics. These paintings may be t h o u g h t o f as s u b s e t s or c o n s t i t u e n t p a r t s o f t h e t o t a l t h r e e d i m e n s i o n a l art o b j e c t . The m e a n i n g of the ceramic form and the meaning of the painting may be different but they are inextricably related due to their ultimate use as burial offerings in which they function in a similar manner for similar ends. The synergistic nature of this Mimbres form and painting have been obscured by time and a history that lacks precise written documentation. However, when 92 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 4. Room 63 from the Swarts Ruin, Mimbres Valley, Grant County, New Mexico, showing offering below a house floor; the floor level is shown by a ridge on the back wall two-thirds of the distance below the surface. Photograph by C. B. Cosgrove, copyright, Harvard University, 1982. Figure 5. Four nested Mimbres bowls (assembled). Photograph by Barbara L. Moulard, 1982 these aspects are examined in light of archaeological data they yield information about themselves and the context in which they functioned. This context is the basic determining factor which shapes our point of view toward the ceramic art and its significance in the culture. For the M i m b r e s painted hemispheric vessels, context is its dissident use in graves; for the majority of Mimbres painted images, context is their appearance on the white slipped interiors of these bowls. A complete understanding of the painted images may never be possible, but any interpretation of the images should begin with an attempt to answer the question, "Why a pot?" and then a second question, "Why a broken pot?." The above-ground use of the ceramic form may be negligible as a consideration for its role in the burial tradition of the Mimbres. Regardless of its pre-burial functions, its use in a burial context gives us a certain information about its meaning. As funerary offerings they were not containers for food or other objects. Their application was curiously unbowl-like. Generally, a single bowl was inverted over the head of the deceased as either a tightly fitting skull cap or as a covering for the face (Figure 4).23 Where there was more than one bowl associated with a body, these were often nested over the head (Figure 5).24 In cremations, an atypical mortuary custom for the Mimbres, three different uses of these ceramic forms was employed: The remains of the dead were gathered and placed under an inverted bowl; Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 93 the cremated remains were placed in a bowl with an inverted bowl resting over the top of it (Figure 6);26 the cremated remains were placed in a seed jar 27 and a h e m i s p h e r i c vessel was placed over the t o p of the former.28 The prevailing custom during the Mimbres burial rite appears to have been the sacrifice of the bowl at the time of interment by knocking a hole in the center of the form. 29 In instances of nesting, the bowl not directly in contact with the dead was sometimes, but not often, left Figure 6. Mimbres bowl with an inverted cover (assembled). Photograph by Barbara L.Moulard, 1982 Figure 7. Classic Mimbres black-on-white ceramic hemispheric vessel with a geometric composition and a carefully cut "kill hole." circa AD 1000, to 1150 Mimbres River Valley region, New Mexico H: 17 x 25 cm Private collection, Photo c.1982 John BigelowTaylor intact.30 Likewise, the cremations the containers of the dead were left whole while the inverted cover was usually perforated. 31 If the hemispheric vessel functioned as a container, then it was as a container of the dead, not forthe dead. But the idea of container may have to be discarded altogether in light of the fact that not only were most of the bowls inverted at the time of burial, they were also broken. They were either indiscriminately smashed or, more often, care was taken to punch or peck a hole in the center of the apex of the curve of the inverted bowl (Figure 7). The continuous coil method of construction aided inthissecond mannerof breaking ceramics. Unlike most of the prehistoric ceramics found in the S o u t h w e s t r e g i o n w h i c h s t a r t e d w i t h a m o l d e d or p i n c h e d base on w h i c h c o i l s w e r e a t t a c h e d , t h e Mimbres ceramic bowls, for the most part, were constructed with a continuous coil from base to rim.32 When struck by an object at the center, bowls broke easily a l o n g c o n t a c t s b e t w e e n coils. 3 3 T h e t e c h n i q u e of m a n u - facture aided this aspect of the m o r t u a r y use of the ceramic vessel. In addition, since the breakage of the form was deliberate, it must be considered part of the total art process involved in Mimbres painted hemisphericceramics. Painted bowls that occur in burials are generally inverted either over the top of the head, the face, or the cremated remains of the dead. This inversion creates a 94 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 8. Inverted Mimbres bowl, or domed-shaped object (same vessel as Fig. 7) Photograph by Barbara L. Moulard, 1982 dome shaped object (Figure 8). Most of these domes were penetrated at the top, f o r m i n g an oculous-like aperture. The form in the living culture may have been a utilitarian food bowl but when it was placed with the dead it had a different, virtually opposing, connotation; the former was a closed basin container; the latter was an opened dome enclosure. Such dualities for a single object are not rare in the philosophies of the ethnographic people of the Southwest. 34 The meaning of the perforated dome and its association with dead can only be inferred from a review of the historic Pueblos, ethnographicdata. The idea of the sky being a penetrable dome enclosure is a d o m i n a n t image in emergency m y t h o l o g y f r o m the Western Pueblos. An unmistakable association for the form was recorded by Ruth L. Bunzel from the Zuni who state that "the sky (a po 'yan-e, stone cover), solid in substance, rests upon the earth like an inverted bowl" 35 ; there are breaks or a passage in the cover, if you pass through, you reach the home of the Eagle People.36 Texts recorded at Third Mesa, Hopi relate that a variety of birds and/or plants were grown "to pierce the dome of their [the Hopi Underworld] sky"37 so that the people trapped in the Underworld could emerge from the below to this world. 3 8 The same is virtually true for the mythology recorded at Zuni, except that there were four worlds to be traversed and the people emerged from the Underworld with the aid of the twin sons of Sun.39 An emergency myth recorded by Matthew W. Stirling at Acoma Pueblo has the surface of the earth being penetrated from the below by a pine tree, the hole enlarged for the passage of the people by Badger and the circumference of the hole plastered permanently by Locust.40 These emergence myths explain the existence of the Pueblo race and revolve around the ancestors of these people who are associated with the past and the dead. Emergence mythology and subsequent migration mythology of the Pueblos defines the prehistory of the culture before their arrival at their present location and the realm of the spirit world. Before emergence mortal- Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 95 ity was not known to the race. Shortly after emergence the first death occurs and the dead person is witnessed by the newly emerged people as having returned back t h r o u g h the hole of e m e r g e n c e to the realm of the spirits of the dead or Underworld. 41 Through mythological passages, death and the afterlife are explained and described. When the Pueblo ancestors are invoked during Kachina ceremonies at the Pueblos, the process begins in the kiva42 at the mouth of the sipa 'pu, the hole on the kiva floor that leads to the Underworld and that r e m a i n s c o v e r e d w h e n i n v o c a t i o n s are not t a k i n g place.43 Thus the sipa pu is symbolic of, or functions in a similar manner as, the original hole of emergence; it is a passageway between two realms. Because of its similarity in form to the description of the Pueblos Underworld "dome of the sky" and sipa'pu hole of emergence, it seems plausible to suggest that the Mimbres domed shaped ceramic form with a hole in the center represents a barrier between worlds and the break in it is a passage between two worlds and that the f o r m carries connotations of a Mimbres notion of an U n d e r w o r l d r e a l m of the dead. In t h e case of the Mimbres burial rite, the movement appears to be one between lower and upper w o r l d s . Nested M i m b r e s bowls in burials may suggest the layering of worlds as described in the Zuni myth. The contemporary Puebloans believe that the dead, in the f o r m of a "breath body," which issues from the mouth of the deceased, pass from the Underworld to the Upperworld by means of a "ladder" left in the grave, to return to the corporeal c o m m u n i t y in the f o r m of rain or Kachina ancestral spirits.44 If the Mimbres had a similar belief, then a punctured dome w o u l d represent the boundaries between the two worlds and the means of exiting from one to the other. A n o t h e r association that the M i m b r e s funerary practices may have had w i t h c o n t e m p o r a r y Pueblo t h o u g h t is the placement of the dead under house floors. Throughout all periods of Mimbres occupation, burials, flexed or semi-flexed, were placed under floors and occupation of the house was often continued (Figure 4).45 Although infants who have not been initiated into the Pueblo community are sometimes buried under house floors at some pueblo villages, 46 in the Pueblos there is a universal fear of the immediate dead and they are usually taken outside the living area of the village for burial. However, it is believed that the dead go to the two storied house of Masau'u, the Pueblo deity of death.47 The grave is the entrance to his house which is visualized as being constructed like those of the living and dying is thought of as a returning to the earlier house.48 96 Ph0ebus 4 In this way the floor of the Mimbres' house may also represent a barrier between the house of the dead the the house of the living. Finally, the process by which ceramics were made and treated in the Mimbres culture and the funerary rite may have been a metaphor for the human dead. The way in which ceramics are made is not unlike the process by which the surface of the earth was formed in mythology or the process that a Puebloan undergoes to become an adult member of the community. In several transcriptions of Pueblo mythology the people emerge to a wet, soft, muddy land that is unformed, but through various methods and the aid of supernatural beings the land is made dry and hard.49 As the people continue on their migration to the center of their world (where they now live) they receive gifts and knowledge along the way which makes them culturally complete by the end of their quest. Likewise, in many of the Pueblos there is a notion that before persons are initiated into the society, between the ages of seven and twelve, they are not truly formed. Small children that die before this time are not buried in the same manner as adults for it is thought that they are still linked to the spirit world and can be reborn. 50 This is described by Don Talayesva in connection with the death of his child: We place no cotton on its face and did not bury it in the regular cemetery, for we wished the child to return shortly. Everyone knows that if a baby dies, a young mother may bearthe same child again, but of opposite sex.51 Ortiz in his monograph of Tewa culture describes this notion clearly in his definition of the Tewa word ochu (moist, green and unripe) and seh t'a (dry, hardened and ripe). At the time of the peoples emergence to this world the land was ochu and later became seh t'a.b2 In a similar manner uninitiated youths under the age of six or seven are thought of as being ochu and after initiation become seh fa. 53 This notion is shared by several other Pueblo groups. 54 After each major rite of passage the Puebloan becomes closer to being complete. At death the person joins his ancestors and enters a different state of being. The process of f o r m i n g a M i m b r e s vessel goes through a similar transformation. Dry clay was gathered and filtered and cleaned with water, tempered with f i n e grain volcanic ash and t h e n kneaded until the proper level of plasticity was achieved. During the cleansing process the clay is in a soft, wet and uncontrollable stage; through the tempering and kneading process the clay is made manageable. Next, the base of the bowl was formed by either a continuous coil or a Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 97 basal pat was formed by pressing a small amount of clay into a mold or form. Coils were added to this tapering gradually upwards and outwards from the center. The greenware vessel was allowed to dry slowly to a leathery state and then it was scraped smooth to obliterate and bind the coils. It was then ready to receive painted decoration. Up until this time and indeed until the time of firing the vessel could have been broken down and returned to its original state possibly to be used again. After the white kaolin slip had been applied to the surface and any decoration made from iron ore pigments had been applied the greenware vessel was left to completely dry. After this the vessel was ready to be fired. In this process the clay f o r m became hard ceramic and was ready for use in the community. At the time of a burial rite of a Mimbreno a vessel was ceremonially killed by either punching a hole in it or breaking it; this rendered it unfunctional and it was returned to the ground from which it came but in an altered state. Like the m e m b e r in the Pueblo c o m m u n i t y the ceramic f o r m progresses t h r o u g h a series of events f r o m a moist or green state in w h i c h it may return unchanged to nature, to a dry hard state and finally, to a non-functional state and returned to the earth. This analogy between the social growth of humans and the process of ceramic manufacture may be reflected in the Tewa custom of giving small children or infants a bowl which they are to keep throughout their lives.55 It is difficult to assess the importance the manufact u r e of c e r a m i c v e s s e l s h e l d f o r t h e p r e h i s t o r i c Mimbres. Even today pottery making is done in reverence to and with aid of a supernatural figure known as Clay Woman, who "gives her flesh" to the Puebloan potter.56 It was an industry that probably took place year round in most Mimbres sites, although certain parts of the process may have been seasonal. The complete process of gathering, mixing, creating the form, its use and its destruction was likely to have been a constantly observed transformation. That this process was conciously thought of as a metaphore for a similar human life process is impossible to prove but the ubiquitous use of ceramics as mortuary furnishings as well as the historic mythic comparison certainly brings it into the realm of possibilities. T h r o u g h the use of e t h n o g r a p h i c a n a l o g y it is apparent that the Mimbres hemispheric ceramic form has several layers of meaning. The process of manufacture of the ceramics may have been analogous to either or both the mythic evolution of the surface of the earth and the development of the individual Mimbreno. The form of the rounded bowl may have performed a neces- 98 Ph0ebus 4 sary utilitarian function during its life span in the culture; however, the hemispheric form was used symbolically in the Mimbres funerary rite to represent the barrier b e t w e e n t w o w o r l d s : the U n d e r w o r l d and the Upperworld. The act of breaking the vessel created a p a s s a g e w a y b e t w e e n these t w o w o r l d s . Thus, the domed shaped form with the hole in the top of it became a symbol in the Mimbres burial rite for death and emergence into the spiritual world. 57 It is within this ideological c o n t e x t t h a t the p a i n t e d images f o u n d on the interior surfaces of these vessels should be examined. Marvin Cohodas and Barbara DeMott Meaning in Women's Arts of North America 101 The evidence for a traditional distinction between men's and women's arts in North America is widespread in both space and time. 1 Men's arts, made for specific ritual functions and often manufactured and used with a limited audience, are more localized (fig. 1). Women's arts were instead publically displayed and used, and frequently traded, leading to wide diffusion of technical and decorative traits (fig. 2). In visual terms, the similarity among women's arts across North America is far g r e a t e r t h a n the r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n men's and women's styles within a single tribe. With such widespread similarities and evidence of intercommunicat i o n between tribes, it is possible to develop cross cultural comparisons of general traits in the function and decoration of women's arts. The contrast between men's and women's arts is in part due to differences in use and context. 2 Men's arts are created primarily for use within a ritual context, and include not only sculpture and painting but also narrative arts such as dancedrama. In concrete or temporary form, men's arts rely on representational imagery to command the presence of specific spirit identities, to reenact some mythic event, describe some aspect of the natural w o r l d , or p e r f o r m a ritual t r a n s f o r m a t i o n . Through such representation or impersonation, male ritualists are able to contact and control supernaturals who have the power to transform and renew individual humans, a whole society, or the natural environment. Since each i m a g e r e p r e s e n t s an i d e n t i f i a b l e nonhuman personality, with known attributes, ritual functions, and often mythic history, the symbolism of men's a r t s is d i r e c t l y a c c e s s i b l e t o i n t e r p r e t a t i o n a n d understanding. By contrast, women's arts fulfill utilitarian functions of clothing and container, and are fabricated primarily t h r o u g h t h e c o n s t r u c t i v e t e c h n i q u e s of w e a v i n g , embroidery (of quill, hair, beads), pottery, and basketry. Since decoration is developed for protection rather than transformation (see below), designs are based on simple geometric motifs arranged in abstract composi- 100 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 2. Haida, twined basket, ca. 1900. Thomas Burke Memorial Washington State Museum, Seattle, 25.0/182. Photograph M. Cohodas. t i o n s . Valued as p r e s t i g e o b j e c t s by t h e i r o w n e r s , technical and aesthetic sophistication are often their most salient features. The abstract nature of decoration on women's art makes it more difficult to interpret. Two opposing views have d o m i n a t e d such attempts. The view that these abstract decorations are devoid of symbolic meaning and are instead valued solely for aesthetic reasons, is represented by Kroeber's discussion of (Barrett's investigation into) Pomo basketry designs: The Pomo in basket decoration are less inclined to symb o l i c or r e l i g i o u s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n t h a n w e are in the ornamentation of our architecture, implements of household use, or display and dress. But in both cases there is no evidence that any decorative figure originated from a creative impulse. Symbolism can only interpret what is given. 3 Other scholars believe that native w o m e n artists have transformed representational images into geometric designs and have translated mythic narrative content into abstract compositions. Jill and Peter Furst write: Unfortunately, by the time ethnographers began to study California basketry seriously, many of the original meanings had been forgotten. Most abstract geometric symbols in Pomo basketry represented animals or parts or tracks of animals, as well as phenomena of the environment and of the weather. 4 Figure 1. Haida, crest pole, 19 century, reproduction. British Columbia Provincial Museum, Victoria. Photograph M. Cohodas. Similarly, in discussing Plains beadwork, these same authors write that "every ornament bore a message, although many of their meanings have been forgotten or were never recorded by the whites. 5 In fact, ethnographers have been investigating the possibility of symbolic meaning in women's arts for as long as they have been studying men's arts. It is unlikely that while the symbolism of men's arts is still well remembered, Meaning in Women's Arts of North America Figure 3. Zuni, polychrome ceramic, ca. 1900. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. 101 that of women's arts should have been forgotten before such investigations began, nearly a century ago. Thus scholars have judged the designs on women's arts to be either meaningless but aesthetically pleasing, or meaningful but enigmatic. Both approaches involve a search for the kind of one-to-one correlations between figural images and specific personages, and between realistic compositions and narrative events, which are appropriate to men's representational arts. Neither treats women's abstract arts on their own terms. In fact, the approach of Native American men and women to the use and interpretation of imagery in art appears to be profoundly different. For example, Kroeber's analysis suggests that male owners of moccasins give narrative interpretations for the abstract beadwork designs which the women headers had never intended. 6 Conversely, w h e n w o m e n i n c o r p o r a t e d representational imagery into their art (largely under the influence of the c u r i o t r a d e ) , they a b s t r a c t e d the f o r m s and arranged them in symmetrical patterns of repetitions which deny any sense of a distinct identifiable spirit entity (fig. 3). If we are to interpret women's arts on their own terms, we must begin with the nature of this abstract approach to composition to which all individual motifs are subordinated. Native American w o m e n consistently employed certain modes of composition arrangement in creating these abstract designs. Repetition is the key mode of o r g a n i z a t i o n and c o m p o s i t i o n a l m o v e m e n t , w h i c h creates v i s u a l effects of order, h o m o g e n e i t y , and rhythm. The lack of compositional focus or emphasis, and often the lack of a single orientation to the design or object, create the homogeneous visual effect. Repetition causes the eye to scan the surface of the object in order to appreciate its decoration. Once the eye learns the pattern repeat, there are no visual surprises or incongruities. The consistent relationship of figure and ground furthers the sense of order produced by a repetitive design. The rhythm of such abstract compositions arises from the manner in which the symmetry of the pattern repeat influences the movement of the eye in scanning the design. For example, serial repetition, as in the progression of elements in a band around the circumference of a pot or basket, sets up an orderly spacing of figure and ground which directs movement on the horizontal axis of the g l o b u l a r shape (fig. 3.). A l l - o v e r repeats instead force the eye to either move with the hand in turning the vessel to perceive the repeat on both horizontal and vertical axes, or to read the entire object in one glance in order to appreciate the integration of 102 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 4. Prehistoric Anasazi, Tularosa Style, black-onwhite ceramic, 13 century. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. Figure 5. Pima, coiled basket tray, early 20 century. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. ¥tUt M u m u n y i u v 8&P5wxmmmmm Jm UIMIV Figure 6. Porno, twined cooking basket, early 20 century. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. f o r m and pattern (fig. 4). Rotationally s y m m e t r i c a l arrangements of motifs appear to spin around the central point of rotation (fig. 5). These rotational arrangements suggest an intellectual ordering of space not only through the prevalence of four-part repetition, but also through the rejection of the modes of symmetry (bilateral, radial, etc.) which are common in the natural environment. By directing the eye according to particular rhythms, all of these modes of arrangement create a sense of dynamic balance which animates the otherwise static nature of symmetrical repetition. Binary opposition is a category of symmetrical repetition w h i c h is often used to create c o m p o s i t i o n a l order. For example, designs on painted pottery of the prehistoric s o u t h w e s t f r e q u e n t l y involve reciprocal relationships between two elements that are similar in f o r m b u t c o n t r a s t in t o n e or hue. As in C o l o n i a l Hohokam and Classic Chaco ceramics, the most sophisticated examples of this approach involve the transformation of the figure-ground opposition into a reciprocal relationship of positive and negative elements. Pueblo III ceramics of the Cibola region illustrate the more common alternative in which a neutral background mediates between the opposed h o m o l o g o u s elements, here the interlocked solid and hatched forms, (fig. 4). The same t w o modes of binary opposition appear in basketry design of the Southwest and California. The design in a single dark color may be interlocked with a lighter and often reciprocal background (Pima, Yavapai, Pomo), (fig. 6), or designs in two colors (usually red and b l a c k ) m a y be c o n t r a s t e d on t h e n e u t r a l g r o u n d (Yokuts). In both types of binary opposition, the tense balance which holds the elements in opposition creates the effect of controlled energy. Binary opposition may also be employed to animate banded arrangements. Often, as in Tlingit basketry, a central band may be inserted as a foil for the two identical flanking bands (fig. 7). In Navajo blankets (fig. 8), the two flanking bands are related in bilateral symmetry across the cental axis of the blanket, while the Meaning in Women's Arts of North America 103 Figure 7. Tlingit, twined basket, early 20 century. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. Figure 8. Navajo, child's blanket, mid. 19 century. Fine American Indian Art, Sotheby's, York Avenue Galleries, April 24,1982, number 80. contrasting central band is also bilaterally symmetrical about the same axis. Such a pattern is simultaneously perceived both as a sequence of three bands (in an ABA pattern) and as the oppostion of two bilaterally symmetrical halves. Recognizing its inherent visual ambiguity, Adams 7 employs the term "dyadictriadic" for this type of textile composition. This emphasis on ordered patterning in the decoration of women's arts accords with their utilitarian functions. Whether as clothing, baby carriers, or vessels for the gathering, processing, storage, cooking, and serving of food, all of these objects function as containers designed to protect and n u r t u r e the m e m b e r s of a woman's family. Some of the most elaborately decorated examples, such as the war shirt and baby carrier of the Plains tribes (fig. 9), are created for protection at particularly vulnerable times in a person's life cycle. Since all potentially harmful or destructive forces operate through the principle of disorder, the abstractly ordered decoration of clothing and containers protects the wearer or contents through the counter-image of order. The protective f u n c t i o n of women's arts applies also to ritual contexts. In general, highly decorated containers made by w o m e n for ritual use are designed to hold materials in a spiritually potent, volatile, or vulnerable state. Throughout the Southwest, bowls and trays are used in ritual to hold materials such as water or corn pollen which are associated with the positive aspects of renewal and blessing. Since the ritual transformation or rite of passage involves the destruction of the old order for the creation of a new order, the designs on women's art objects may also assist in the ritual transformation. Operating under the priciple of sympathetic magic, that like produces like, these ordered designs may actually f u n c t i o n to create order, and thus aid in renewal or rebirth. A m o n g the prehistoric Mimbres people, the ceramic bowl which is placed over the head of the deceased has a hole knocked in the bottom, so that it may serve not only as a container for the individual spirit 104 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 9. Central Plains, beaded baby carrier, ca. 1900. Private Collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. Figure 10. Pomo, coiled basket with feathers and shell, early 20 century. Private collection. Photograph M. Cohodas. force but also as a pathway or passageway towards rebirth. In addition to these utilitarian and protective functions, w o m e n ' s art objects often serve to articulate social relationships. Clothing designs may identify status, affiliation, or occasion. Baskets are offered or exchanged in rites of passage such as puberty, marriage, and death. Since the display or exchange of clothing and containers serves to both express and enhance prestige, great stress is laid on technical virtuosity, aesthetic quality, and often richness of materials (fig. 10). The use of bright colors, reflective surfaces, or bold contrasts of figure and ground, enhance their prestige and integrative functions by making the objects more highly visible. All of the traits of style and function which have been s h o w n to characterize w o m e n ' s arts in North America occur in contrast to the arts of men. The two varieties of objects constitute a dualism which determines the oppostion of qualities. Thus women's arts is a b s t r a c t because m e n ' s a r t is r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l ; women's art depicts balance and order because men's art depicts transformation and change; and vice versa. Such contrasts partake of the general dualistic outlook in which the opposition of female and male aspects of humanity are projected on society (as in the moiety system) and onthe whole universe. The nature of the contrasts between men's and women's arts arises from the expression of this dualistic w o r l d v i e w as an o p p o s i t i o n of sacred and profane. Men's arts are associated with the sacred sphere, whose role is to transform, through the medium of ritual. All ritual transformations involve a process of change from death or destruction (of the old order or state of being). Representational images in men's art are involved in the sacred sphere, since they ensure the presence of the spirit entities w h o work this transformation. All representational images are thus associated with the process otchange, whether or not they appear in a narrative format. The ritualist also belongs to the sacred sphere. Meaning in Women's Arts of North America 105 Indeed, some practise for the opposite moiety or for a different community, since to be outside the profane world of (one's own) culture is to be in the sacred realm of nature. By contrast, women's arts are more related to the profane sphere. Social relationships bind the makers and users of women's art objects, who are most often members of the same family. Rather than suggesting change and disorder, the abstract symmetrical designs on women's art objects suggest permanence through timelessness and harmony through balance. Whether in the passive role of protection, or the more active role of r e n e w i n g order, these designs f u n c t i o n autonomously, without the intervention of any specific spirit entity. The association of men's art with transformation and change, and women's with permanence and order, also involves d i f f e r e n t m e t h o d s of c o m m u n i c a t i n g meaning. For example, in both men's and women's arts, four-part compositions carry the obvious connotation of the four directions. However, whereas in men's art the symbols used w o u l d refer to transformational spirit powers called upon in ritual contexts, in women's art they refer to a timeless state of being — in quadripartite organization which orders perceived space. Similarly, binary oppositions occur in both media. In men's art, they involve specific personnages or qualities animistically identified with such opposing forces as sky and underworld, mountain and sea, summer and winter, or possession and protection. In women's art, the abstract quality of binary opposition would refer directly to the basic duality of the universe,without the intervention of specific symbols. Furthermore, the holding of opposed design elements in tense balance is perceived as cons o n a n t w i t h t h e c y c l i c o s c i l l a t i o n and r e c i p r o c i t y between opposing forces with animates the universe. In conclusion, men's arts depend on the identification of specific motifs, while composition is a secondary factor that is largely dependent on local tradition. By contrast, women's art depends primarily on widespread modes of composition, while the form of the component motifs is irrelevant to the meaning. The temporal nature of men's arts is in part related to the process of symbolic interpretation through step-by-step deciphering of c o m p o n e n t motifs, w h i l e the timelessness of women's art is in part due to the intuitive understanding of meaning through instantaneous perception of the structure of the composition as a whole. Felt rather than analyzed, w o m e n ' s art expresses m e a n i n g w i t h o u t symbolism. Erin Younger Figure 1. Hopi Man, 1980 by Owen Seumptewa (Hopi) Native American Photography: Diversity and Achievement in the Southwest This paper grew f r o m preliminary research begun in connection with an exhibition of Hopi photography that has subsequently been exhibited at Northlight Gallery Arizona State University (September 1982). As I began investigating photography by Native Americans in the Southwest, several things became increasingly clear. First and foremost, few people living outside of reservation settings were aware of any tradition of photography by Native Americans. Virtually nothing had been written on the subject, very few exhibitions had been m o u n t e d and very little outside encouragement nor Native American photographers apparently existed. In spite of these perceptions, Native American photography was found to be neither an isolated phenomena for of inconsequential interest. There were in fact, numerous Native American photographers in the Southwest and on the Hopi reservation alone, at least one man had set up his own dark-room and studio by 1940.1 During the late 1960's, media techniques including photography were added to Native American studies curriculum throughout the country. Photography, film and video were also studied at nationally-recognized art and communications schools. In 1981, Native American media technician Bruce Baird wrote: "The struggle to change attitudes and stereotypes about Native Americans has made it essential for Indians to participate in the m e d i a , d e t e r m i n i n g h o w Indian c o n c e r n s and realities are presented." 2 From the 1960's on, many Native A m e r i c a n Photographers have pursued this struggle. One of the results of the many i n d i v i d u a l efforts has been a gradual emergence of an encompassing view of contemporary Indian life: a view that signific a n t l y has been r e c o r d e d a n d d e f i n e d by N a t i v e Americans themselves. The emphasis in this paper is on the work of Hopi photographers. The range and variety of their work, however, appears similar to that found on other reservations in the Southwest and also among urban Indian photographers. To highlight these parallels, three primary categories will be reviewed: 1) portrait photogra- 108 Ph0ebus 4 phy, 2) documentary photography and 3) interpretive or "art" photography. The approach and access to subject matter in these categories appears to have yielded the most distinctive results in the work of Native American photographers. These results are characterized by an "insider's" view of culture. The distinctiveness of this view is less in the realm of technical innovation than in the conceptualization of what is important to record and why. The use of photography by Native Americans is not new and can be traced to the early decades of the twentieth century. Until relatively recently, however, Native Americans have more often been the subject of photography than its practitioners. As a result, historic photog r a p h s of Indians c h r o n i c l e the c h a n g i n g tides of Indian-White relations as much as they do changes in Indian life.3 The earliest pictures of Indians were taken during the 1840's soon after the invention of the daguerreotype. The westward movement of pioneers was documented to some extent prior to the Civil War, but it was the period between 1860 and 1920 that saw the most extensive documentation of Indian life. Delegations of Indians to Washington were regularly recorded, and f i e l d p h o t o g r a p h e r s a c c o m p a n i e d r a i l r o a d survey crews and later scientific surveys to carefully record the landscape and Indians they encountered. 4 As the 1880's drew to a close, most Indians lived on reservations and tourism was on the rise, particularly in the Southwest. Reflecting an ever-widening approach to subject matter, the photographic record of Indians expanded to include the work of amateur as well as professional photographers. Straight-forward documentary images were continued, but a genre of romantic images was added to these — commercially successful staged scenes that piqued the curiosity of potential tourists and helped create a fanciful, stereotyped image of Native Americans that was far removed from any enthographic reality. Among the thousands of Southwest-bound tourists in the late 1880's came increasing numbers of photographers, some even arriving in clubs. Dedicated to the sympathetic if romantic cause of recording the "vanishing" Indians, many attempted to fulfill their mission in an honorable, respectful manner. Edward Curtis and A. C. Vroman are among the better-known today. Others, however, were less sensitive. In 1902, photographers and amateur ethnographer George W h a r t o n James d e s c r i b e d the chaos c r e a t e d by c l a m o r i n g p h o t o graphers at Hopi. As a result of their disruptions, photog r a p h e r s were restricted to a single area of Oraibi Native American Photography 109 during theSnake Dance: . . . H i t h e r t o , e v e r y m a n had chosen his o w n field, and moved to and fro wherever he liked — in front of his neighbor or someone else, kicking down another fellow's tripod and sticking his elbow in the next fellow's lens. Half a dozen or more Indian police led by the acting agent kept us in line, so we had to make the best of it.5 Soon thereafter, photography was restricted as other pueblos in New Mexico and many of these restrictions still apply. Access to subject matter and the l i m i t a t i o n s or opportunities that access provides is a central element in the p h o t o g r a p h y of and/or by Native Americans. Where the study of historic photographs reveals inform a t i o n a b o u t the r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n the photog r a p h e r and his or her s u b j e c t , it also reveals the " i m p i n g e m e n t " of one culture on another. 6 If this is understood to have a potential effect on the content of a photograph, it would seem likely that "insiders" (in this case, Native American photographers) would create a view of their subject that w o u l d be distinctive from a view of the same subject taken by someone outside the culture. In the Southwest, Native American photographers have not only been filling in the documentary record, but they are also presenting a creative self portrait of contemporary Indian life. The distinctiveness of this view emerges in the variety and volumn of photographs taken, the subjects recorded, and the ways in which the subjects are portrayed. In addition, the omissions to the p h o t o g r a p h i c record are of interest because those things not recorded in the 1980's often stand in marked contract to those things previously recorded by nonIndian photographers. Specifically, one finds little, if any, photography of ceremonials or religious activities. In the realm of portrait photography, the relationship between photographer and subject is most readily apparent. While many non-Indian photographers have cultivated c o m f o r t a b l e relationships w i t h their subjects, less congenial examples also exist. In all cases, access to the " i n n e r " w o r l d of the subject must be negotiated and is often quite limited to an outsider. 7 This has c e r t a i n l y been the case for n o n - I n d i a n p h o t o graphers at Hopi. In contrast, while Native American photographers must also negotiate to obtain certain pictures, their access to potential subjects is without question much greater. This point is well illustrated by looking at the w o r k of several native photographers working at Hopi. 110 Ph0ebus 4 Figure 2. Hopi Child, 1980 by Owen Seumptewa (Hopi) Figure 3. Drying Peaches, 1980 by Sam Minkler (Navajo) O w e n S e u m p t e w a is p r o b a b l y the b e s t - k n o w n Native American photographer in the Southwest. He studied photography at Northern Arizona University and returned to the Hopi reservation in 1976. As Media Specialist to the Hopi Health Department, he served as photographer and consultant to the tribe in its documentation of villages, people and restoration projects on the reservation. Since then, he has continued taking pictures and has become particularly well-known for his portraits. In discussing his goals as a photographer, Seumptewa has stated that while he occasionally takes landscape and architectural shots, he is most interested in taking pictures that "other people can't take" (meaning presumably, non-Hopis). Most of Seumptewa's portraits are commissioned, although significantly, he takes no money for his work. Most often, the Hopis who approach him want pictures of their parents or grandparents, and occasionally, they have requested pictures of themselves. In other cases, Seumptewa has approached people on his own. In all cases, he poses his subjects in or near their homes where they will feel most at ease. Within these settings, he selectively lights and frames his compositions, creating well-balanced, strong images (Figure 1). Where the older, more traditional Hopis are often reluctant to be photographed (even by Native Americans), children are much less reticent. As a result, many pictures of Hopi children have been taken. A confidence and rapport emerges from these images that could only come f r o m a close, privileged association (Figure 2). Not only are they engaging for their content, but they are important in their role of establishing a record of contemporary Hopi life. The advantages of access to subject matter plays itself out in the documentation of traditional and cultural activities, as well as in portrait photography. While the resources are not as extensive for still photography as they are for video and film, they do exist. Some of Navajo photographer Sam Minkler's pictures are good example. In Figure 3, he has pictured an older woman drying peaches " i n the old way." When asked if she w o u l d give permission to have her picture taken, she said, "Yes, as long as no one else sees you take it, and as long as the picture will be used for educational and not commercial purposes." This was also the stipulation posed by the woman Minkler photographed making piki bread (Figure 4). Hopi photographer Freddie Honongva has also recorded documentary sequences, focusing here on the gathering of basketry materials (Figure 5). H u n d r e d s of v i d e o cassettes, f i l m s and photographs exist which similarly document traditional and Native American Photography 111 c o n t e m p o r a r y cultural activities. These images are creating an invaluable record of contemporary "ways of doing things/' and are also preserving a distinctive view of culture in which the emphasis and view of what is important very often differs from the images recorded by outsiders. In Sol Worth's and John Adair's study of Navajo film-makers in 1966, for example, the authors found that not only did the young Navajo film-makers focus on different elements in a scene than they would have, but that the narrative constructions were also different. 8 In just one example, nearly fifteen minutes of a twenty minute film on weaving were spent showing the weaver w a l k i n g to and f r o m her loom. 9 Non-Indian documentaries of weaving, in contrast, have tended to focus on the process of weaving itself. Figure 4. Making Piki, 1980 by Sam Minkler (Navajo) Figure 5. Gathering Basketry Materials, 1980 by Freddie Honhongva (Hopi) In another example, Native American consultants established the conceptual guidelines for the photography exhibit The Urban Indian Experience: A Denver Portrait ( d i s p l a y e d at the Denver M u s e u m of Natural History in 1978). The viewpoint presented was positive and stressed the v a r i e t y and a c c o m p l i s h m e n t s of Denver's urban Indians — a viewpoint quite different f r o m the down-an-out image that is frequently highl i g h t e d in the n o n - I n d i a n media (Figure 6). Omaha Indian Ernest Ricehill was a photographer for the project and the catalog text was written by Sioux consultant Michael Taylor.10 In a final example, a Papago photographer created a photo-essay on the Yavapai Indians of Fort McDowell, Arizona in 1980. The Fort McDowell Yavapai had been Figure 6. From The Urban Indian Experience, 1978 by Ernest Ricehill (Omaha) 112 Ph0ebus 4 threatened until 1981 with relocation if the Orme Dam site was selected for a Phoenix flood control project. The essay combined photographic images with poetry to present an encompassing view of Yavapai life, illustrating their attachment to the land and by association, their reluctance to leave it. Unlike much of the media c o v e r a g e in Phoenix, these pictures d i d not s h o w isolated individuals, but rather showed groups of people at work and play — clearly "at home" and connected to their physical environment. Although not published, t h e p i c t u r e s w e r e p u b l i c l y d i s p l a y e d in c h u r c h e s throughoutthe state of Arizona. 11 In all of these examples, the views of Native American p h o t o g r a p h e r s have been d i s t i n c t i v e f r o m the views previously presented by non-Indians. Representing a range of technical proficiency, these images have presented a self-determined view of Indian "concerns and realities." The third arena in which photography by Native Americans can be found to be distinctive is in the realm of " a r t " or "interpretive" photography. Like painting, sculpture and other art media, interpretive photography is self-expressive and is informed and influenced by an individualistic, private vision. Such work may or may not include direct reference to Native American subject matter. When it does, the results often stand out because of the conceptual blending between "traditional" or ethnic concepts and a modern interpretation. An example of this may be seen in Victor Masayesva's Rain Bird series, subtitled: "An Exercise in Hopi Logic" (Figures 7-11). In describing the Rain Bird series, Masayesva wrote a prose text that was published with the photographs in an issue of Sun Tracks (Department of English, The University of Arizona): I was asked to explain: I wanted to photograph a special image I had worked w i t h before, so I p l a n n e d the t r i p to H o p i : first small chores, then at least half a day for myself, I got a full day. All day I p h o t o g r a p h e d these v i o l e n t images and left pretty tired and irritated: not the light I like, clumsy footing, wrong speeds... On the way home, the light falling in the evening time, I stopped in the canyon to check the horses' water tank. Stepping through the gate I found this partially finished, partially eroded, Sparrow-Hawk. I recognized him, or it, right away. I threw it out of the tank earlier that year in Kwiya-muyow, w h e n it was very dry. It was a dry t i m e when the wind blew constantly. During that time he must have come there for water. I picture him then, blown there by a wind and drowned, probably deliberately. Native American Photography THE "RAIN BIRD" A Study in Pueblo Design h H f , SI11A 113 114 Ph0ebus 4 In any event, it was that same Sparrow-Hawk that lay there. I manipulated it so I could photograph it: a race between my need to record the feeling and the sun going down. I recorded one roll w i t h about 12 pictures of the Hawk and returned him to the ground. Then went home. Almost. I returned and w r a p p e d up the hawk in tissue paper, thinking I could choose an ideal light situation to record it in. Home in Tucson, I checked by hawk and found the head had been lost somewhere, but not one wing. That made my roll of film special. And I began developing it all wrong, putting in a perma-wash for a moment, then quickly s h i f t i n g t o d e v e l o p e r . Of t h a t roll o n l y o n e f r a m e included all the information I wanted, even that one had fogging in the corners (which I cropped out). I thought I was finished, but immediately after I began to photograph the remaining fragile, w i n g w i t h extreme difficulty: the w i n d blew, light changed, days changed. Out of frustration, I turned to photographing regular feathers in place of the w i n g : feathers in which happened to come along in my carving box. These became satisfying images and kept be in the lull of whatever was going on. On my second trip home I took the w i n g to bury it properly, for, by this time my mind was focusing on the c h i l d r e n s ' graves a l o n g s i d e the canyon edges, in the crevices and crags we used to pass by as children, on our way home. After Niman Tikiveh, they bury the pet eagles and hawks and their toys there too, alongside the canyon drop where the currents begin. Then I lost the wing. And how to bury him now was b e c o m i n g a real p r o b l e m . I w e n t t h r o u g h rolls of f i l m experimenting with photographic illusion, opaque lighting and symbolic imagery to bury him. Beyond my budget, with remaining film, I turned to another subject and with a combination of feathers and fire, got what I wanted: a burial, a kind of freedom — hisand mine. Similarly, the grasshopper invited himself to a sitting, wanting to narrate the sequence of pictures by rasping in the palo verde, then falling into my image. And, of course, the book title by Mera f o u n d its way home. Thank you Mera. I understand making rain is as involved. 12 M u c h of M a s a y e s v a ' s o t h e r w o r k is s i m i l a r t o t h e e x t e n t t h a t he o f t e n c o m b i n e s v i s u a l i m a g e s w i t h w r i t ing — poetry m i x i n g w i t h strong c o m p o s i t i o n s , either f o u n d or created. The success a n d artistic interest of t h i s w o r k c o m e s a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s f r o m its e m p h a s i s o n c o m m e n t a r y k n o w l e d g e w i t h i n t h e c o n t e x t of personal vision. To c o n c l u d e , t h e q u e s t i o n arises as t o w h y N a t i v e A m e r i c a n p h o t o g r a p h y is so little k n o w n o u t s i d e o f reservation c o m m u n i t i e s , particularly given the variety a n d a c h i e v e m e n t o f m u c h of t h e w o r k . O n e r e a s o n m a y be e c o n o m i c . W i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f t r i b a l n e w s p a p e r Native American Photography 115 photographers, few Native Americans living on reserv a t i o n s w i l l sell t h e i r p h o t o g r a p h s . As c o m m u n i t y members they respect the feelings of their relatives and friends who have for too long been sold to the outside world as curiosities. A dilemma thus exists which has the effect of i n h i b i t i n g the exposure of many Native American photographers. Non-Indian photographers on the other hand, may work comfortably w i t h their clients and give them copies of their pictures, but they will also sell the images in orderto make a living. Under the best of circumstances, it is difficult to make a living as a photographer, and in light of perceived cultural restraints for many Native Americans, it becomes even more problematical. A l t e r n a t i v e s a n d / o r c o m p a n i o n s to s e l l i n g are exhibiting and publishing. In Arizona, the opportunities have been limited at best. As of 1981, only one of the five major museums in the state had ever exhibited Native American photography. During the 1970's the "Native American Photography Workshop" was started by the Central United Presbyterian Church in Phoenix and ran for six summers. Conceived as a creative extension to the Youth Corps program, high school students were trained in photography and their work was then exhibited at the Heard Museum and circulated by the Arizona Commission on the Arts. In 1971, Sun Tracks, a Native A m e r i c a n literary series, was published in Tucson and along with creative writing, frequently publishes photography. In 1982, Sun Tracks began to be co-published by The University of Arizona Press, greatly increasing the circulation of its volumes. Within the last few years, Native American photography has become more widely recognized although it still remains obscure. In addition to art support organizations, tribal governments and urban Indian centers are showing their interest by supporting and writing grants. Tribal photo archives are also being established. It would seem then, that whether through interpretive or d o c u m e n t a r y i m a g e s , N a t i v e A m e r i c a n p h o t o graphers are taking to heart the challenge of determining how their "concerns and realities" are presented. They are meeting this challenge by preserving a vision on film that will extend the existing historical record, enlarge upon their artistic repertoire and provide an encompassing view of contemporary Indian life. Notes Grave Goods of the Florida Elite Appendix: It has been suggested that rather than a painted slip, this surface sheen may be the result of fine particles which floated to the surface during the firing process and produced a slightly lustrous finish which could have been further enhanced by burnishing. (Milanich: personal communication). 1. William Sears, "The Sacred and the Secular in Prehistoric Ceramics," Variations in Anthropology, D. Lathrop& J. Douglas, ed., Illinois Archeological Survey, p. 42. 2. Gerald Milanich & Charles Fairbanks, Florida Archeology (New York: Academic Press, 1980), p. 131. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid., p. 135 5. Mallory McCane-O'Connor, "A Comparative Study of Design Motifs Found on Weeden Island and Fort Walton Ceramics." Fort Walton Beach, FL: Temple Mound Museum, p. 5. 6. Yulee Lazarus, "The Buck Burial Mound: A Mound of the Weeden Island Culture," Fort Walton Beach, FL: Temple Mound Museum, p. 25. 7. Milanich & Fairbanks, Florida Archeology, p. 192. 8. Bruce Smith, ed., Mississippian Settlement Patterns (New York: Academic Press, 1978), p. 89. 9. John Scarry, "The Chronology of Fort Walton Development in the Upper Apalachicola Valley, Florida," Southeastern Archeology Conference, Bulletin 22, p. 43. 10. Katherine Kimball, The Ancestors: Native Artisans of the Americas, ed. Anna Roosevelt & James Smith (New York: Heye Foundation, 1979), p. 166. 11. Milanich & Fairbanks, Florida Archeology, p. 198. 12.Ibid. 13. Lila Fundaburk & Mary Foreman, Sun Circles and Human Hands (Luverne, A.L.: E. L. Fundaburk, 1957), p. 56. 14. Marion Gilliland, The Material Culture of Key Marco Florida (Gainesville, FL: University of Florida Press, 1975), p. 32. 15. Ibid., p. 47. 16. Ibid., p. 75. 17. Ibid., p. 116. 18. Ibid. 118 Phoebus 4 Visual Imagery and Social Change 1. John Fischer, "Art Styles as Cultural Cognitive Maps." in Art and Aesthetics in Primitive Societies, Carol F. Jopling, ed. (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1971), pp. 171-192, reprinted f r o m American Anthropologist, vol. 63, no. 1 (February, 1961), pp. 79-93. 2. Ibid., p. 172 3. Olga Linares, "Ecology and the Arts in Ancient Panama: On the Development of Social Rank and Symbolism in the Central Provinces," Studies in Pre-Columbian Art and Archaeology, no. 17 (Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1977). 4. Ibid., pp. 65 and 67. 5. Ibid.,p. 70. 6. Charles Hudson, The Southeastern Indians, Knoxville, Tennessee, 1976), pp. 274, 277, 279, 280-282. 7. See L.A. Wilson, "A Possible Intrepretation of the Birdman Figure Found on Objects Associated w i t h the Southern Cult of the Southeastern United States, AD 1200 to 1350," Phoebus III (Tempe: Arizona State University, 1981) for an indepth discussion of the birdman image and its possible interpretations. 8. L.H. Larson, Jr., "Archaeological Implications of Social Stratification at the Etowah Site, Georgia," in Approaches to the Social Dimensions of Mortuary Practices, ed., J. Brown, Memoirs of the Society for American Archaeology, XXIV (Washington, D.C., 1971). 9. James Brown, "Spiro Art and Its Mortuary Contexts," in Dumbarton Oaks Conference on Death and the Afterlife in Pre-Columbian America, ed., E. Benson (Washington, D.C., 1975); also James Brown, "The Southern Cult Reconsidered," Mid-Continental Journal of Archaeology, vol. 1, no. 2 (Kent, Ohio, 1976), pp. 115-135. 10. Emil Haury, speaking of the Hohokam, has pointed out an association between the color red and water, noting that red was the preferred color for water jars as well as the preponderance of red sherds left as possible offerings at springs (A.E. Dittert, personal communication 1983). The Language of Dance 1. E. Leach, "Ritual," International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, 13 (New York, 1968), pp. 520-526. 2. P. A. R. Bouissac, "Clown Performances as Metasemiotic Texts," Language Sciences, 19 (Bloomington, 1972), p. 1. 3. See R. Jakobson and M. Halle, Fundamentals of Language (The Hague, 1956), p. 5; F Saussure's languelparole and N. Chomsky's competence/performance distinctions are related ideas. 4. See C. Levi-Strauss, "Preface" in R. Jakobson, Six Lectures on Sound and Meaning (London, 1978); C. Levi-Strauss, "The Bear and the Barber," Journal of the Royal Anthropological Notes 119 Institute XC\\\ (London, 1963), pp. 1-11; for his c o m m e n t s on art, see C. Levi-Strauss, Tristes Tropiques (New York, 1974), p. 178. 5. N. S. Trubetzkoy, Principles of Phonology, (Berkeley, 1969), pp. 31,90. 6. R. Jakobson, "Boas' View of Grammatical Meaning," in The Anthropology of Franz Boas, ed. by W. Goldschmidt, Memoir of the American Anthropological Association 89 (Washington, 1959), p. 143. 7. See Barthes' actual/virtual distinction in R. Barthes, Critical Essays (Evanston, 1972), p. 205. 8. R. Jakobson, "Linguistics and Poetics" in Style in Language, ed. by T. A. Sebeok (Cambridge, 1960), 353. 9. R. Wagner, The Invention of Culture (Englewood Cliffs, 1975), p. 37. 10. L. A. Hieb, "The Ritual Clown: H u m o r and Ethics," in Forms of Play of Native North Americans, ed. by E. Norbeck and C. R. Farrer, Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society (St. Paul, 1979), pp. 171-188. 11. M. Titiev, Old Oraibi; A Study of the Hopi Indians of Third Mesa, Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, 22:1 (Cambridge, 1944), p. 173. 12. See A. M. Stephen, Hopi Journal, ed. by E. C. Parsons, Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, 23 (New York, 1936), pp. 824-825. 13. Ibid., p. 825. 14. A.M. Stephen, "The Hopi Indians of Arizona," The Masterkey, 14. (Los Angeles, 1940), p. 103. 15. A. M. Stephen, Hopi Journal, p. 215. 16. A. M. Stephen, "Pigments in Ceremonials of the Hopi," International Folk-Lore Congress of the World's Columbian Exposition, 1 (Chicago, 1898), p. 265. 17. A. M. Stephen, Hopi Journal, pp. 215-216. 18. J. G. Owens, "Natal Ceremonies of the Hopi Indians," A Journal of American Ethnology and Archaeology, 2 (Cambridge, 1892), p. 163. 19. H. R. Voth, "The Oraibi Powamu Ceremony," Field Columbian Museum Publication, 61 (Chicago, 1901), p. 149, n. 5. 20. A. M. Stephen, Hopi Journal, p. 354. 21. A. M. Stephen, "The Hopi Indians of Arizona," p. 104; see E. Earle and E. A. Kennard, HopiKachinas (New York, 1938), pp. 32-33. 22. C. Levi-Strauss, "Introduction a I'oeuvre de Marcel Mauss," in M. Mauss, Sociologie et Anthropologic (Paris, 1950), p. xxxvi. 23. H. R. Voth, The Oraibi Marau Ceremony, Field Museum of Natural History Publication, 156 (Chicago, 1912), p. 55. 24. H. R. Voth, The Traditions of the Hopi, Field Columbian Museum Publication, 96 (Chicago, 1905), p. 116. 25. See H. R. Voth, The OraibiPowamau Ceremony, p. 146, n. 4. 26D. Sperber, "Claude Levi-Strauss," in Structuralism and Since; From Levi-Strauss to Derrida, ed. by J. Sturrock (New York, 1979), p. 24. 27. A. M. Stephen, Hopi Journal, p. 217. 120 Ph0ebus 4 Wo-Haw, A Kiowa Artist 1. This information on the provenance and ownership of the sketchbooks comes f r o m Mrs. Dano 0 . Jensen, "Wo-Haw: Kiowa Warrior," Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society• VII :1 (October, 1950), 76-77. 2. Karen Daniels Petersen, Plains Indian Art from Fort Marion, Florida (Norman, Oklahoma, 1971); E. A d a m s o n Hoebel & K. D. Petersen, A Cheyenne Sketchbook by Cohoe (Norman, Oklahoma, 1964); Burton Supree, Bear's Heart: Scenes from the Life of a Cheyenne Artist (Philadelphia, 1977); Dorothy Dunn, 1877: Plains Indian Sketchbooks ofZo-Tom and Howling Wolf( Flag staff, Arizona, 1969). 3. The local publications are Dana, "Wo-Haw: Kiowa Warrior," and an untitled pictorial feature in the St. Louis Post Dispatch Sunday Magazine, August 13,1950, p. 5. Our Figure 13 has been reproduced in Petersen, Plains Indian Art from Fort Marion, Florida, p. 91, and in John C. Ewers, Murals in the Round: Painted Tipis of the Kiowa-Apache Indians (Washington, D.C., 1978, Figure 31. One of Wo-Haw's Smithsonian drawings has been published in Petersen, p. 211. 4. James Mooney, "Calendar History of the Kiowa Indians," 17th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Part 1 (Washington, D.C., 1898), pp. 171-2. 5. Fort Marion in St. Augustine, the oldest masonry fort in the United States was constructed at the end of the 17th century as a Spanish fort, Castille de San Marcos. When Florida became a part of the United States, the stone fortress was turned over to the U.S. A r m y and was renamed Fort Marion. Today, under its original name, it is a United States National M o n u m e n t . See Richard Pratt, Battlefield and Classroom: Four Decades with the American Indian, 1867-1904, ed. R. M. Utley (New Haven, 1964), p. 117. 6. Petersen, Plains Indian Arts, p. 64. 7. Robert E. Ritzenthaler, Sioux Indian Drawings, Milwaukee Public M u s e u m Primitive A r t Series # 1 (Milwaukee, 1961). See also Helen H. Blish, A Pictographic History of the Oglala Sioux (Lincoln, 1967). 8. See J o h n Ewers, Plains Indian Painting (Palo Alto, 1939) and Howard Rodee, "The Stylistic Development of Plains Indian Painting and Its Relationship to Ledger Drawings," Plains Anthropologist, X:30, 218-232. 9. Petersen, Plains Indian Art, p. 72. 10. Pratt, Battlefield and Classroom, p. 119. 11. This information is d r a w n f r o m a more detailed account of Wo-Haw's life after captivity in Petersen, Plains Indian Art, pp. 209-210. The Other Weavers: Navajo Basket Makers 1. W. Matthews, "The Basket Drum," American Anthropologist, Vol. 7 (1894), 202. 2. C. Kluckhohn and W. W. Hill, Navaho Material Cambridge (1971), p. 98. Culture, Notes 121 3. Tschopik, "Taboo as a Possible Factor Involved in the Obsolescence of Navaho Pottery and Basketry," American Anthropologist, Vol. 40, No. 2 (1938), 258. 4. L. Gilpin, The Enduring Navaho, Austin (1968), p. 154. 5. Navajo Area Newsletter (1978), p. 4. 6. J. Wheat, "An Early Navajo Weaving," Plateau, Vol. 52, No. 4 (1981), 3. 7. G. Reichard, Desha, Woman of the Desert, New York (1939), p. xxii. 8. C. L. Tanner, Southwest Indian Craft Arts, Tucson (1938), p. 26. 9. N. Bennett, The Weaver's Pathway, Flagstaff (1974), p. 44. 10. Matthews, ibid., 201 11. Tschopik, ibid.,262. 12. G. Phillips, "The Cultural Implications of Navajo Basketry," New York University (1973), p. 9. Also see Stewart, "Navajo Wedding Basket," Museum Notes, Vol. 10, No. 9 (1938), 28. 13. Franciscan Fathers, An Ethnologic Dictionary of the Navaho Language (1910), p. 291; Stewart, 26-28; Kluckhohn and Hill, pp. 134-35. 14. Ibid., 293; Stewart, op.cit.; Tschopik "Navaho Basketry, A Study of Cultural Change," American Anthropologist, Vol. 42, No. 3(1940), p. 446 15. N. Parezo, Navajo Sandpaintings: From Religious Art to Commercial Art, Tucson (1983), p. 75. 16. M. Shepardson and B. H a m m o n d , The Navajo Mountain Community, Berkeley (1970), p. 106. Powhatan Copper and the Prehistoric Ceremonial Complexes 1. Amelia M. Trevelyan, "Copperwork in the Prehistoric Eastern United States", unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of California at Los Angeles, 1983, 358. 2. Joseph R. Caldwell, "Interaction Spheres in Prehistory in Hopewellian Studies", Illinois State Museum Scientific Papers, vol. 2,1968. Sharon Goad, "Exchange Networks in the Prehistoric Southeastern United States", unpublished Ph.D. dissertion, University of Georgia, 1978. Mark Seeman, "The Hopewell Interaction Sphere: The Evidence for Interregional Trade and Structural Complexity", Indiana Historical Society Prehistoric Research Series, vol. 5, #2,1979. 3. William Strachey, The Historie of Travaile into Virginia Brittania, Expressing the Cosmographie and Commodoties of the Country with the Manners and Customer of the People, Hakluyt Society Publication, vol. 6, London, 1849,113. 4. J o h n Smith, "Works: 1608-1631" in Original Narrative of Early American History: 1606-1625, J. Franklin Jameson, ed., New York, 1907,307. 5. T.M.N. Lewis, Editor's c o m m e n t , Tennessee Archaeologist, vol, III, # 1 , 1 9 4 6 , 1 4 . 6. J o h n Smith, "Works: 1608-1631", English Scholars Library, Edward Arber, ed., # 1 6 , B i r m i n g h a m , 1884, cx-cxi. 122 Ph0ebus 4 7. Thomas Hariot, Narrative of the First English Plantation of Virginia, reprint, London, 1893, 30. John Smith, First Explorations of the Trans-Allegheny Region by the Virginians: 1650-1674, Cleveland, 1912,162. William Barlowe, "Early English and French Voyages: 1534-1608", Original Narratives of Early American History, Henry Barrage, ed., New York, 1906, 232. John Smith, Original Narrative..., xlix-1. Strachey, The Historie of Travaile..., 57-8. 8. Ibid. 9. This well-documented history of the Creek Tuchabachee Plates implies that this may well have been the reasoning behind their occasional burial with certain individuals (See Swanton, "Aboriginal Culture of the Southwest", 42nd Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington D.C., 1928, 503-510). 10. John Smith, "Works: 1606-1631", Narratives of Early Virginia: 1606-1625, Lyon Tyler, ed., New York, 1907, 49. Strachey, The Historie of Travaile..., 130., 11. Trevelyan, "Copperwork in Prehistoric...", 358. 12. Hariot, Narrative..385., 89. Smith, Original Narrative..., 104. 13. Smith, English Scholars Library, cv-cvi. 14. Ibid. 15. Barlowe, Early English... 232. Smith, English Scholars..., xlix-1. 16. Ibid.,cii. 17. Strachey, The Historie of Travaile..III. 18. Smith, English Scholars..cvii-cviii. 19. Smith, Narratives..114-116. 20. Nancy Lurie, "Indian Cultural Adjustment to European Civilization", Seventeenth Century America, James M. Smith, ed., Chapel Hill, 1959, 42. 21. William Brandon, "American Indians and American History", the American West, vol. II, #2,16. 22. Ralph Lane, Report to Sir Walter Raleigh, The New World: The First Pictures of America, Stefan Lorant, ed., New York, 1946, 144-146. 23. Swanton, "Aboriginal C u l t u r e . . . " , 505-510, 572. James Howard, "The Southeastern Ceremonial Complex and its Interpretation", Missouri Archaeological Society Memoir, #6, 1968, 65, 66, 69, 73. Lakota Beaded Costume of the Early Reservation Era 1. Jeanette Mirsky, "The Dakota," Margaret Mead, ed., Cooperation and Competition Among Primitive Peoples (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1937), p. 297. 2. Ibid., p. 426. 3. Ibid., p. 96. 4. Robert M. Utley, The Lasts Days of the Sioux Nation (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1963), p. 21. 5. Gordon MacGregor, Warriors Without Weapons: A Study of the Society and Personality Development of the Pine Ridge Sioux (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1946), p. 91. Notes 123 6. Luther Standing Bear, Land of the Spotted Eagle (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1933), p. 177. 7. MacGregor, Warriors Without Weapons: A Study of the Society and Personality Development of the Pine Ridge Sioux, p. 33. 8. Ella Deloria, Speaking of Indians (New York: Friendship Press, 1944), pp. 95-96. 9. Everett E. Hagan & Louis C. Shaw, The Sioux on the Reservations: The American Colonial Problem Cambridge: M.l.T. Press, 1960), pp. 10-18. 10. Carrie A. Lyford, Quill and Beadwork of the Western Sioux (Lawrence, KS: Haskell Institute Press, 1940), p. 71. 11. Ibid., p. 67. 12. Richard A. Pohrt, The American Indian and the American Flag (Flint, Ml: Flint Institute of Arts Press, 1975), p. 9. 13. Standing Bear, Land of the Spotted Eagle, p. 232. 14. Mrs. D. B. Dyer, Fort Reno or Picturesque Cheyenne and Arrapahoe Army Life, Before the Openign of Oklahoma (New York: G.W. Dillingham, 1896), p. 50. 15. George Deveraux, "Art and Mythology: A General Theory," Carol F. Jopling, ed., Art and Aesthetics in Primitive Societies (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1971), pp. 203-6. 16. Lyford, Quill and Beadwork on the Western Sioux, p. 12. 17. Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians, American Museum of Natural History Bulletin, XVIII:321 -78. The Emergence of Crenellated Ritual Pueblo Ceramics During the Late Prehistoric Period 1. Keith A Dixon, "The Acceptance and Persistence of Ring Vessels and Stirrup Spout Handles in the Southwest", American Antiquity 29 (1964). 2. Watson Smith, "Kiva Mural Decorations at Awatovi and Kwaika-a", Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archeology and Ethnology, 37 (1952), 250-251. 3. Richard J. Ambler, The Anasazi (Museum of Northern Arizona, Flagstaff, 1977), 41. 4. H.R. Voth, "The Oraibi Oaqol Ceremony", Anthropological Series 5 (Field Museum of Natural History, 1903), 1-46. 5. Smith, Papers Peabody, 251. 6. William J. Robinson & Roderick Sprague, "Disposal of the Dead at Point of Pines, Arizona", American Antiquity 30 (1965), 451. 7. Ibid, 451. 8. Mrs. Glen E. Moore, "Twelve Room House Ruin", Bulletin 18 (Texas A r c h a e o l o g i c a l a n d P a l e o n t o l o g i c a l Society, 1947), 107. 9. Polly Schaafsma, Rock Art in New Mexico (Albuquerque, 1975), 101 ff. 10. Charles C. Di Peso, Casas Grandes and the Gran Chichimeca (Museum of Sante Fe, New Mexico, 1972), 9. 11. George Kubler, "Iconographic Aspects of Architectural Profiles at Teotihuacan and in Mesoamerica", Pre-Columbian Art History, ed. Alana Cordy-Collins & Jean Stern (Palo Alto, 1977), 106. 12. Alfonso Ortiz, The Tewa World (Chicago, 1969), 19. 124 Ph0ebus 4 13. Charles Di Peso, John B. Rinaldo, and Gloria J. Fenner, Casas Grandes: A Fallen Trading Center of the Gran Chichimeca, v. 2 (Flagstaff, 1974), 557. 14. Fray Sahagun,/4 History of Ancient Mexico (Nashville, 1932), 34 and 120. 15. Florence H. Ellis, "Datable Ritual Components Proclaiming Mexican Influence in the Upper Rio Grande of New Mexico", Papers of the Archaeology Society of New Mexico 3 (1976), 103-104. 16. Regge N. Wiseman, "Artifacts of Interest from the Bloom Mound, Southeastern New Mexico", The Artifact 8 (1970), 1-10. 17. Di Peso, et.al., Fallen Trading, 1974, Vol. 2, 557. Form and Interpretation of Mimbres Ceramic Vessels 1. For a detailed discussion of the historical and geographical relationship between the prehistoric Mimbres and the contemporary Pueblo cultures see: Barbara L. Moulard, Mimbres Iconography: A study of the methodology and interpretation, (unpublished M.A. thesis. School of Art, Arizona State University, 1982), pp. 1-16. 2. Steven A. LeBlanc, The Mimbres People: Ancient Pueblo painters of the American Southwest, (London, 1983), p. 119. 3. Ibid, pp. 18-20; 140-141. 4. The exceptions are stylistic studies in which the basic form is considered in relationship to how it effects the structural elements of painted design. For example see: J. J. Brody, Mimbres Painted Pottery, (Albuquerque, 1977), pp. 131-200. 5. For examples see: Fred Kabotie, Designs from the ancient Mimbrehos with a Hopi interpretation, (Flagstaff, 1949); O.T. Snodgrass, Realistic art and times of the Mimbres Indians, (El Paso, 1975); and Pat Carr, "Mimbres mythology", University of Texas Southwestern Studies Monograph 56, Austin, 1979). 6. For examples see: Jesse Walter Fewkes, "Designs on prehistoric pottery from the Mimbres valley, New Mexico", Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 74 (6), (Washington, D.C., 1923); and Fewkes, "Additional designs on prehistoric Mimbres pottery", Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 76 (8), (Washington, D.C., 1924). 7. Brody, Mimbres Painted Pottery, p. 211. 8. Harriet S. Cosgrove and Cornelius B. Cosgrove, "The Swarts Ruin: A typical Mimbres site in southwestern New Mexico", Papers of the Pea body Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), (Cambridge, 1932), p. 28. 9. Brody, Mimbres Painted Pottery, p. 128. 10. Matthew E. Thomas, personal communication, (Tempe, 1981). 11. Most of the organic material leached from Mimbres vessels by soaking them in distilled water is dark brown in color. It is protien in nature but chemical analysis is needed to determine what the substance is. It is possible that it is a result of the contact of the ceramics with the human body in the burial situation. Thomas, personal communication, (Tempe, 1981). Notes 125 12. For examples of M i m b r e s pottery vessel shapes see: Brody, Mimbres Painted Pottery, p. 132. For examples of Hohokam pottery vessel shapes developed contemporaneously w i t h the M i m b r e s cultural phase see: Emil Haury, The Hohokam, desert farmers and craftsmen: Excavations at Snaketown, 1964-1965 (Tucson, 1976), pp. 327, 330. 13. Isabel T. Kelly, "The Hodge Ruin: A Hohokam c o m m u n i t y in the Tucson Basin," Anthropological Papers of The University of Arizona, 30 (Tucson, 1978), p. 77. 14. Charles C. DiPeso, "Cacas Grandes: A fallen trading center of the Gran Chichimeca," The Amerind Foundation, Incorporated Series, 9 (1), (Dragoon, 1974), p. 250. 15. Steven A. LeBlanc, "Temporal change in M o g o l l o n ceramics," In Southwestern ceramics: A comparative review, ed. Albert A. Schroder, The Arizona Archaeologist, 15 (Phoenix, 1982), pp. 119-122. 16. Clara Lee Tanner, Prehistoric Southwestern Craft Art (Tucson, 1976), p. 114. 17. J. J. Brody, " M i m b r e s art: Sidetracked on the trail of a Mexican connection," American Indian Art, 2 (4) (Scottsdale, 1977), p. 29. 18. LeBlanc, The Arizona Archaeologist, 15, p. 113. 19. The author is aware of t w o polychrome painted stone slabs f r o m the M i m b r e s area. 20. For a discussion of the numbers of types of ceramics f o u n d in M i m b r e s sites see: Paul H. Nesbitt, "The ancient M i m b r e n o s : Based on investigations at the Mattocks Ruin, M i m b r e s Valley, New Mexico," Logan Museum Bulletin, 4 (Beloit, 1931), pp. 51-67; and Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of The Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, 15 (1), pp. 72-76. 21. Most warpage of M i m b r e s ceramics has been attributed to poor firing w h i c h occurs after the pottery has been painted. However, there is the possibility that some warpage was caused by the careless handling of unpainted greenware pottery. 22. Brody, Mimbres Pain ted Pottery, p. 138. 23. For a discussion of the appearance of M i m b r e s ceramics in a burial context see: C. L. Webster, " S o m e burial customs practiced by the ancient people of the Southwest," The Archaeological Bulletin, 3 (3), 3(3,1-12), p. 13; Nesbitt, Logan Museum Bulletin, 4, p. 39; and Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of The Peabody Museum Archaeology and Ethnology, 15(1), p. 28. 24. Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), p. 28. 25. Ibid., p. 28. 26. Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), p. 26. 27. Seed jars are full bodied almost globular vessels, the shoulders curve inward to narrow orifices and direct rims. 28. Nesbitt, Logan Museum Bulletin 4, p. 44. 29. The broken or "kill sherds" are often f o u n d in the graves. Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), p. 28. 126 Ph0ebus 4 30. Ibid., p. 28. 31. Nesbit, Logan Museum Bulletin 4, p. 44; and Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), p. 26. 32. Brody, Mimbres Painted Pottery, p. 121. 33. Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 15 (1), p. 73. 34. Alfonso Ortiz, "Dual organization as an operational concept in the Pueblo Southwest", Ethnology 4 (4), (Pittsburg, 1965), pp. 289-396. 35. Ruth L. Bunzel, "Introduction to Zuni ceremonialism", Bureau of American Ethnology, Annual Report 47, (Washington,D.C., 1932). p. 487. 36. Ruth L. Bunzel, "Zuni tales", Publications of the American Ethnological Society 15, (Washington, D.C., 1933), p. 225. 37. Leo Simmon, editor, Sun Chief: The Autobiography of a HopiIndian, (New Haven, 1942), p. 418. 38. H.R. Voth, "The traditions of the Hopi", Fieldiana 8, (Chicago, 1905), p. 10. 39. Ruth Benedict, Zuni Mythology, (New York, 1935), vol. 1, pp. 2-3. 40. Mathew W. Stirling, "Origin myth of Acoma and other records", Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 135, (Washington, D.C., 1942), pp. 1-2. 41. For examples of these Pueblo myths see: Voth, Fieldiana 8, pp. 1-2; Elise Clews Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, (Chicago, 1939), vol. 1, p. 68; Alexander M. Stephen, "Hopi tales", Journal of American Folklore 42, (Washington, D.C., 1929), pp. 8-9; and Dennis Tedlock, Finding the center: Narrative poetry of the Zuni Indians, (Lincoln, 1978), pp. 262-263. A complex myth concerning death after emergence that involves the drowning of Zuni children and their descent through water and river beds to the Underworld is recorded by Frank H. Cushing, "Outlines of Zuni creation myths", Bureau of American Ethnology, Annual Report 21, (Washington, D.C., 1896), pp. 404-406. 42. Kivas are semi-subterranean structures that are generally entered from a hatch way in the roof and a ladder. They are primarily used by men for working and fraternizing and for ceremonies. 43. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 1, pp. 144n, 184, 202, 242. For an account of the invocation of a Kachina in the kiva and its association with the sipa'pu see: Alexander M. Stephen, "Hopi journal of Alexander M. Stephen", edited by Elsie Clews Parsons, Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology 23, (New York, 1936), vol. 1, p. 309. 44. The ladder, or "way out", is symbolized at the grave by a planting stick or piece of string. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 1, pp. 70-72; 173. 45. The claim f o r t h e burial of the Mimbres dead under house floors cannot be supported with data from the Cameron Creek site. Wesley Bradfield, "Preliminary report on excavations at Cameron Creek Site", El Palacio 15 (5), (Santa Fe, 1923). However, one- thousand and nine such burials were excavated at the Swarts Ruin (Cosgrove and Cosgrove, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Notes 127 Ethnology 15(1), p. 23.) and t w o hundred and ten burials were f o u n d under house floors at the Mattock Site (Nesbitt, Logan Museum Bulletin 4, pp. 39-92.). 46. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 1, p. 71. 47. Stephen, Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology 23, vol. 1,p. 151. 48.Ibid., p. 151. 49. For Examples see: Cushing, Bureau of American Ethnology, Annual Report , p. 38; Wilson D. Wallis, "Four tales f r o m S h i m o p o v i " , Journal of American Folklore, (Washington, D.C., 1936), p. 10; Stirling, Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 135, p. 3; and Alfons Ortiz, The Tewa World: Space, time, and becoming in a Pueblo Society, (Chicago, 1969), pp.13-14. 50. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol, 1, p. 73. 51. S i m m o n , Sun Chief: The autobiography of a Hopi Indian, p. 271. 52. Ortiz, The Tewa World: Space, time and becoming in a Pueblo Society, p. 16. 53.Ibid., pp. 16; 37. 54. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. i, p. 198. 55. Alfonso Ortiz, personal c o m m u n i c a t i o n , (Albuquerque, 1981). 56. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 1 pp. 195-196. 57. The fact that many M i m b r e s burials contained plainware "killed" hemispheric vessels strengthens the assumption that the f o r m of the ceramic vessel was an i m p o r t a n t part of a funerary ritual. Meaning in Women's Arts of North America 1. A l t h o u g h many of the objects illustrated here were made for sale, they still reflect traditional approaches to construction and design. 2. The scope of this essay does not permit discussion of art f o r m s created by both men and w o m e n , as in the Chilkat cloak and Haida hat. 3. A.L. Kroeber, "California Basketry and the Pomo,">4/77er/caA7 Anthropologist VII (Menasha, Wisconsin, 1909), p. 248. 4. P.T. Furst and J. Furst, North American Indian Art (New York City, 1982) p. 76. 5. Ibid., p. 165. 6. A.L. Kroeber, "The Arapaho," American Museum of Natural History, Bulletin XVIII (New York City, 1902) pp. 36-150. 7. M . J . A d a m s , " S t r u c t u r a l A s p e c t s o f a V i l l a g e A r t , " Anthropologist pp. 265-279. American LXXV (Menasha, Wisconsin, 1973) Native American Photography 1. Jean Fredericks, f o r m e r Chairman of the Hopi Tribe, began taking photographis in the late 1930's and set up a dark r o o m at his home on the reservation in 1940. 2. Bruce Baird, "Reflections — Native Americans in Media," Native American on Film and Video, ed. Elizabeth Weatherford (New York: Museum of the American Indian/Heye Foundation, 1981). 3. Margaret B. Blackman, "Posing the American Indian," Natural History Magazine, vol. 89, no. 10 (1980), 69; Joanna Cohan Scherer, "Introduction: Pictures as Documents (Resources for the Study of North American Ethnohistory), "Studies in the Anthropology of Visual Communication, vol.2, no. 2 (Fall 1975), 65. 4. Joanna Cohan Scherer, Indians: The Great Photographs that Reveal Native American Indian Life: 1847-1929, from the Unique Collection of the Smithsonian Institution (New York: Crown Pub., Inc., 1974), p. 12. 5. George Wharton James cited in Ruth Mahood, ed. Photographer of the Southwest: Adam Clark Vroman, 1856-1916 (Los Angeles: The Ward Richie Press, 1961), p. 10. 6. Scherer, "Pictures as Documents," p. 65. 7. James Borchert, "Analysis of Historical Photographs: A Method and a Case Study," Studies in Visual Communication, vol. 7, no. 4 (Fall 1981), 39. 8. Sol Worth & John Adair, Through Navajo Eyes: An Exploration in Film Communication and Anthropology (Bloomington: Indiana Unversity Press, 1972), p. 147. 9. Ibid. 10. The Urban Indian Experience: A Denver Protrait (Denver Museum of Natural History, 1978). 11. Rev. Joedd Miller, United Central Presbyterian Church, Phoenix, AZ. 12. Victor Masayesva, "Rain Bird: A Study in Hopi Logic," Sun Tracks, vol. 4 (Tucson, 1978), 10.