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It was the encouraging words of a First Peoples Fund staff member that initially led multimedia installation artist Luzene Hill (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians) to apply for the Eiteljorg Museum Contemporary Native American Art Fellowship.

Hill, who lives in Atlanta, Georgia, was encouraged to apply for the Eiteljorg Fellowship by Miranne Walker, senior program manager. “I told her I thought I was going to apply and she sent me an email that said I should do it, with big exclamation points, and that’s what gave me the confidence to do that,” she said.

Hill went on to receive the Eiteljorg Fellowship. As a 2015 First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership Fellow as well, she had resources and training this year to complete a website, publish Cherokee language books, and continue her installation artwork that addresses the issue of violence against women.

Hill’s work is now seen in collections around the United States and she is featured in Susan Power’s book, “Cherokee Art: Prehistory to Present” and Josh McPhee’s book, “Celebrate People’s History: The Poster Book of Resistance and Revolution.”

Hill’s exhibit at the Eiteljorg will be up until February 28 and is included alongside work by four other Native artists.

Her current project is an artist’s book, “Spearfinger,” which promotes the Cherokee language through traditional myths. Illustrating folktales has given her a way to contribute to the efforts to preserve the language, which is disappearing. “There are only 200 Native speakers left in North Carolina,” she said. “It’s in peril. When it’s gone, it’s more than just the words that are gone.”

"The books help me assert language sovereignty for the Cherokee people. I’m making my tiny little statement."

Hill’s interest in the books began in 2007 when she worked in a language revitalization program and began to illustrate books based on Cherokee myths. It was during that time, she said, that she realized traditional language sometimes reflects culture that isn’t translatable.

She said she has been humbled by the support of her work and has been surprised every time she has been well received, beginning with the first time she was accepted in to the Santa Fe Indian Market on her first attempt in 1997. “If I had known the scope of it, I wouldn’t have applied,” she said. “Ignorance is bliss.”

Hill said she still considers herself a newer artist, having started her art career in 1996 at the age of 48. “I feel like I’m having to make up for lost time,” she said, laughing.

She started with paintings and drawings and eventually moved to books and multimedia installations. Her work to address violence against women began in 2009. The two mediums allow her to talk about two important issues facing Native Americans today—language loss and sexual assault of Native women.

“I make art about silence, being silenced and having a voice,” she said. “This takes two parallel paths.”

Hill attended First Peoples Fund's artist fellows training in the spring and was encouraged to meet other people on the same page as her. The First Peoples Fund staff made her feel like part of the family immediately, Hill said.

“It’s been extraordinary. It exceeded my expectations by far,” Hill said. “From meeting so many people from other tribes to the continuing interest First People Fund has in my work, I am just thrilled at having this connection. It’s a great, encompassing kind of feeling.”

It will be coast-to-coast travels for artist Jhane Myers (Comanche/ Blackfeet) this holiday season. Myers, who hails from Santa Fe, New Mexico, is at the outset of a four-gallery-show run that will take her from California to Washington this winter.

Myers is a doll maker, jeweler, regalia maker and clothing designer who has been making dresses since the 1990s. She is also a traditional buckskin dancer, and one of this year’s First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership Fellows.

Having started her career by studying at the Fashion and Art Institute, and working for designer Ralph Lauren—Myers said her art has evolved over time, particularly during the last two years.

She attributes some of that to her work with First Peoples Fund, where she has received multiple fellowships and hopes to become an artist trainer someday. "People ask you 'how to' questions," she said, of other artists. "And, it's one of our Native core values to help each other. The support you get from First Peoples Fund makes you want to continue that generosity by helping others."

Having the resources to create art and then take it to the marketplace has helped transform who she is as an artist. “I’ve really grown professionally,” she said.

“It gives you the confidence to have access to the tools you need to create. My art has really been elevated."

With a previous fellowship, Myers recreated a traditional Native recession dress, drawing on a wartime tradition to use canvasses from missionary tents to design dresses. This year, Myers allocated the grant toward completing a website.

Meyers said her business has benefited from having a quality site where people can become more educated about her work, contact her, or commission art. "It's just wonderful."

She also used some of the funding to purchase equipment and a new display set-up for art markets, including panels, banners and jewelry display pieces. She has attended the Santa Fe Indian Market every year since 2007 and said it was nice to have a high-quality set-up that showcased her art and attracted the eye. “People came by and commented on how great it looked,” she said.

Myers said she is busy right now trying to keep up with inventory, but has an eye to the future, particularly helping newer artists who might be following in her footsteps. Her advice includes following your dreams, and taking advantage of the practical tools and guides First Peoples Fund offers in the way of training and mentorship.

“First Peoples Fund gives you sustainability and comfort to know you can do this,” she said. “It’s scary once you’ve made that investment in your business, but you have to remember you’re investing in yourself and your art. It’s really made a difference for me.”

Lani Hotch (Tlingit) has a vision. When people first walk through the Chilkat weaving exhibit in her community’s first Native heritage center, they will be not only educated on her tribe’s history but moved by the importance of weaving throughout the generations.

Hotch, who is a member of the Chilkat Indian Village in Haines, Alaska, first came to know First Peoples Fund when receiving the prestigious Community Spirit Award in 2011. Currently, as a First Peoples Fund 2015 Cultural Capital Fellow, she spent the year moving forward with her work to build the Jilkaat Kwaan Cultural Heritage Center. The building for the center has been framed and it is set to open in May 2016.

“This is the culmination of my adult life’s work,” said Hotch, who first learned how to weave from her grandmother.

Hotch made a name for herself in the weaving world when she was part of a group of local women in 1992 who started the Klukwan Healing Robe. It took eight years to finish the robe, which is representative of the self-guided healing that Native people can take ownership of, she said. She got the idea after reading about how some Holocaust survivors said they began to heal as their stories were honored and told through museums dedicated to honoring those who suffered and those who died.

“Our own people need a way to get past our generational trauma,” she said. “That’s how I thought of the healing robe. It’s something tangible to deal with the intangible.”

The completion of the robe secured her desire to continue weaving—and to continue spreading the art form of weaving on to the next generation.

Hotch has since worked in several cultural arts focus capacities, including at the Klukwan School where she started the Tlingit Language and Culture Program, and for the Chilkat Indian Village Tribe.

She is currently working on a small robe that will include a maritime theme, a reflection of the fact that Klukwan sits on the north bank of the Chilkat River. It’s just one way that weaving can speak stories and life, history and even geography to people. It’s one way her tribe has been speaking for generations.

“Klukwan is known for its legacy of weavers,” Hotch said. “And we want to share that.”

Working with First Peoples Fund has been an encouragement, Hotch said. Not only has the fellowship helped her secure contracts with artists to display in the heritage center, President Lori Pourier played a central role in helping Hotch secure the first major grant for the building. “I was discouraged and I was trying to come up with funding,” she said. “I called Lori and asked her if she knew of any sources and she gave me a list.”

One of the organizations on the list had an applicable grant that Hotch applied for and received, in the amount of $107,000, to move forward on the building. “It was just what we needed,” she said.

Hotch said she hopes her work, and the work on display in the Jilkaat Kwaan Cultural Heritage Center will be a true testament of her tribe, she said, as it will play a key role in the long-term goals of cultural revitalization and economic development in the region.

“It will have cultural displays that feature what our community members have decided were some of the most compelling aspects of our community,” she said.

Hotch said she has been honored to work alongside dozens of volunteers in her community as they bring the dream of the heritage center to life.

“It’s monumental,” she said. “It’s not just me. It’s the whole community. They’re behind it.”

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Paul High Horse's (Sicangu Lakota) strategy is simple—squeeze every last drop of opportunity, knowledge and funding out of the First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship he was awarded this year.

"I have really tried to stretch this grant," said High Horse, who grew up on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota and now lives in Council Bluffs, Iowa.

His purposefulness is also reflective of straddling two careers—that of a full-time art teacher at Ft. Calhoun Junior and Senior High School, and as a professional mixed media Native artist. "I absolutely love teaching," he said. "It's tough to balance teaching and doing my art. But, I don't think I could give up either. There are things with my classes that I can do in my professional work and then things that I am doing in my professional work that I can teach to my kids."

The Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship gave him a much-needed push, he said, including the completion of two solo exhibitions in South Dakota. The first was at Crazy Horse Monument and the second was at the Journey Museum. "They were excellent," High Horse said. "One of my main objectives with this grant was to get more exposure. The exhibitions helped me expand my fan base and gave me more experience."

High Horse will open a two-man exhibition with artist Steve Tamayo at the Hot Shops Art Center in Omaha, Nebraska, next month. Tamayo, he said, is very knowledgeable in Lakota art and history and has shared his wisdom.

High Horse hopes to use the Nebraska show as an opportunity to connect with other gallery owners and managers to talk about his work.

Besides exhibitions, the fellowship from First Peoples Fund has also allowed him to start a website, purchase art materials, and a trailer to haul his art to market. High Horse's art, which is mixed media mostly on birch panels, includes geometric details and fine lines. He is inspired by the Lakota culture, but also spirituality, graffiti and architecture. He has been honing the craft since the early 2000s, and met First Peoples Fund President Lori Pourier in 2014, but almost didn't apply for the fellowship when it was brought to his attention.

"I was new to showing my art," he said. "But I met a lot of artists and they told me to apply to First Peoples Fund."

One of the best aspects of support from FPF has little to do with money, he said. "They're very professional and structured," he said. "It's all the extra stuff, the workshops and the assistance."

The Santa Fe, New Mexico, Native Artist Professional Development Training put on by First Peoples Fund that High Horse attended in April was just one example of that. "It was phenomenal," he said. "It was really fun to be around that much talent and creativity. The staff was there to help us figure out what we wanted to do. It was awesome. I learned so much."

It was a crash course in how to make Hawaiian jewelry that changed Beau Jack Imua Key's (Native Hawaiian) mind on artistry. Key, who is a First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership Fellow and lives in Honoka'a, Hawaii, was in a gallery 12 years ago when he tried on a piece of jewelry made out of traditional mother of pearl.

"I asked how much it cost," he recalled. "It was $675. I didn't want to pay that, so I started making them."

It didn't go well right away, he admitted. Key, who is now an accomplished carver and jewelry maker, worked on technically challenging fish hooks inlaid with mother of pearl. The work to master the art form and then refine it was eye opening, he said. "I didn't really understand what goes in to art," he said. "Now I appreciate everyone's work. You look at the quality and you know how much time went in to it."

It was enough to make him want to continue.

Key's ancestors were known masters of carving adornments out of ivory, wood, mother of pearl, bone and coral. Black basalt was often carved in to implements and weapons, but rarely for adornments. The adornments Key has seen are beautiful, which has motivated him to create his own.

With the support of First Peoples Fund, Key purchased stone carving equipment with a goal to unveil his new pieces at the MAMo Wearable Art Show on Maui earlier this summer. The equipment came in time for Key to have just seven weeks to carve the five pieces. With no days off from work, he worked feverishly at night until he finished. "It was pretty intense."

Key's design ideas sometimes come from something as simple as a drawing in his notebook. "In Hawaii, the carvers carved for royalty and the royalty would want something that no one else had and that's what I try to do," he said.

Some elders have mixed reaction to the adornments because they are something new, he said. "Some absolutely loved it, some didn't like it," he said. "My ancestors that are gone, I think they would smile."

Key said he doesn't get discouraged if not everyone is onboard with the progression of carving in his art. He's focused on his goals—creating something new while honoring the past. "My ancestors... they innovated and did new things. Our people sometimes are stuck in being just traditional. But tradition is the ability to adapt. Our ancestors adapted to what was before them, whether it was for art or for implements."

Having the support of First Peoples Fund has encouraged him to continue.

"I can't express it in words," he said. "They've given me the confidence to know I can do it."

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As a result, Key has stepped out of his comfort zone—including taking a trip to New Zealand this January for an Indigenous gathering. First Peoples Fund has reinforced the fact that support from other Native artists is important for growing his artistry and business.

"It's like a brotherhood," he said. "This was a one-year fellowship, but really it's a lifetime fellowship."

It's a project five years in the making.

Eighth Generation, led by First Peoples Fund Alumni Fellow Louie Gong (Nooksack), will begin selling the first Native-designed wool blankets in October.

The company was founded by Gong, who is based in Washington and is growing the small business to support fellow Native artists and engage communities in a commitment to grow Native art and business.

Gong received a 2014 Cultural Capital grant from First Peoples Fund to work on the project, which started as an idea in his home after receiving a "Native-inspired" honor blanket for speaking at the 2010 National Indian Education Association convention.

"I was curled up on the couch and looked closely at the tag and it said number 11 of 250," he recalled. Doing the math, he realized that the company probably made between $25,000 and $30,000.

"It got my wheels turning," he said, making him wonder how often non-Native companies were profiting off of well-meaning organizations or individuals looking for Native art or goods.

"As an entrepreneur, I thought one way to make my artwork sustainable and provoke discussion was to be the first Native run company that offers wool blankets," he said.

Eighth Generation has since launched a crowdfunding campaign to fund marketing and sales support. The first product run is planned for Evergreen State Longhouse's 20th anniversary—300 blankets that will be split between the two entities. The company will then open up the business to custom orders from tribes and organizations.

One of the strengths of the project is that Eighth Generation will partner with Native artists to create new designs. Michelle Lowden (Pueblo of Acoma) of New Mexico will be one of the first artists to work with Eighth Generation to create honor blankets featuring her art.

"We're not just taking their money and running with it," Gong said. "They'll be able to sell the blankets on their own website."

The artists will make profit that far exceeds the typical two to three percent they might earn through a royalty in a traditional artwork deal. Once the crowdfunding phase wraps up, the company will be at the October NIEA convention as a vendor.

"It will be the formal launch and people can see them in person," Gong said.

The partnership with Evergreen is an example of the strength in partnership. "When Native companies and individuals come together to support each other, anything is possible," he said.

Gong said the idea is catching on. The Little Creek Casino, owned by the Squaxin tribe, chose to use Eighth Generation for its blanket order instead of a non-Native business recently. "They were able to look at the big picture," he said.

Right now, people assume they have no other option, or don't realize the danger in non-Native companies misappropriating Native art.

"It doesn't just hurt our feelings," he said. "It's an economic loss. Every spot on a shelf they occupy is a lost spot for a Native entrepreneur like myself."

Gong said much of the work ahead would be about educating people.

"If we support the growing capacity of Native entrepreneurs and business, we can all move forward together," he said.

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Doug Limón (Oneida Nation of Wisconsin) has never been more certain of the calming focus he experiences when he works on his art than during his recent recovery from heart surgery.

Limón, who was a First Peoples Fund 2014 Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Award recipient and a 2015 Cultural Capital grantee, was part way through a series of community cradleboard workshops as part of his Cultural Capital fellowship when he fell ill. He underwent heart surgery in June and was in the hospital for over a month. He is now at home recovering.

"I'm still weak," he said. "I still need rest, but I'm getting stronger every day."

Limón has been a traditional and contemporary beadwork artist for 58 years and finds solitude in his work. "I felt like if I could start beading, I would heal faster," he said. "It does calm me down. It puts me in another state of mind."

Beading is one of the aspects Limón reviewed as he kicked off his cradleboard project this year, which is focused on revitalizing the art of making woodland-style cradleboards for infants. Limón was inspired to teach the cradleboard tradition by the birth of his youngest son five years ago.

Limón led four workshops, each of them scheduled over two weekends held one month apart. The first weekend included education about the history and purpose of the boards. The students—about 10 in each class—watched a demonstration on how to drill 50 holes in to the board before bending them. The students then took the boards home to work on them with family, and complete beadwork on the bag that carries the baby. It's during that month that creativity abounds, he said, and students learn to seek out elders and family members for input and help.

"I've never seen two cradleboards alike," he said.

"There's spirit in the projects."

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People from all walks of life take the class, he said, including many different ages and for different reasons. One woman said she always wanted to make cradleboards for her kids, but never knew anyone to teach her. She is a grandmother now and has taken the initiative to learn. "It gets emotional," Limón said. "It's a way to connect the family together."

It's also a great place for reflection. Some students have come in to class with misconceptions about the boards. "I teach them that this is very healthy for the baby," he said, citing research that shows that babies who were in cradleboards walked sooner because of the strength in the legs, back and neck muscles.

The word is out now that people can learn how to make the boards, and it's exciting to see the classes fill up, Limón said. "It filled up in four hours the day we first announced it," he said. "Then there is a long waiting list."

Teaching never gets old, especially when the students return for the second session with their bags designed and the stories of who helped them. "It's really amazing to see," Limón added. "It's like opening Christmas packages when they bring them in."

There were plenty of reasons for Wayne Valliere (Ojibwe) to be emotionally moved during his 2015 Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Award Ceremony on the Lac du Flambeau Reservation in Wisconsin earlier this summer.

The Ojibwe artist was surrounded by community members, elders, friends, family and colleagues. He listened as First Peoples Fund staff highlighted his life’s work as an artist and culture bearer. And, his 96-year-old mentor made the trip to attend the honoring, taking the microphone to speak of Valliere’s dedication to his culture.

But it was a small gesture by First Peoples Fund staff that made Valliere sincerely reflect on the importance of his life’s work. As part of the ceremony, staff collected and displayed artwork by Native Wisconsin artists, which included a showcase of Valliere’s art.

“They had a watercolor I did in eighth grade,” he said. “I don’t know where they got it from.”

His work, often expressed in watercolors, has followed the trajectory of his life. “I was seeing different parts of my life,” he said, as he viewed the collection. “Our art is at a much deeper level. It’s our strength.”

"Each piece represents part of his journey as a Native man and an artist. We put strength and life into each piece,” he said. “It reflects a time in our life.”

The Community Spirit Awards are given every year to recognize the exceptional passion, wisdom and purpose the recipients bring to their art and the communities they serve. Every other year, they are presented in the communities in which the artists live.

“Wayne embodies what this annual honoring is all about,” said First Peoples Fund President Lori Pourier. “It’s his willingness to take a lifetime of knowledge and wisdom and walk alongside the people in his community to help usher in the next generation of Ojibwe culture bearers.”

It was at a young age that Valliere first fell in love with art. His father led him, encouraging Valliere to use recycled paper to draw. Later, he matched his love of art with his interest in Ojibwe traditions and culture. Today, he creates a variety of traditional art, including birch bark, canoes, drums, paintings, carvings, cradle boards, Ojibwe language materials, flutes, antler horn carvings, and spears and arrows.

But much of his time is spent working side-by-side with youth, including constructing traditional canoes and winter lodges, all in an effort to perpetuate traditions that have stood on the brink of extinction.

Valliere is a good example of what can happen when quality mentorship happens within a community, he said. “The things my elders taught me … they would say, ‘We’re putting this on your shoulders now,’” he said. “I’m at that point where I’m creating a lot of programs to pass that knowledge down.”

He is doing the same within his family. As the father of eight, and the grandfather of eight, Valliere has ample opportunities to shed light on the past. “It makes me feel really good,” he said. “I’m teaching my kids by example.”

Some parents and elders exhort the younger generations to learn by what is taught, not by what is demonstrated, he added. “I say, ‘Do as I do,’ and I feel comfortable with that,” he said. “I live by the spirit and my community sees me doing that.”

Valliere said he was humbled to receive the Community Spirit Award, and was honored to share the ceremony with others. “It’s very important to keep the culture, language and art moving forward for the future generation of our tribe so we never lose our identity,” he said.

Being in the spotlight is not something he’s used to, he said. “It’s not our way to pound our chest,” he said. “Humility is our way. But it was such a great honor.”

It’s not just the individual who benefits when Native art is recognized and celebrated. “I share this award with my community,” he said. “I feel it belongs to all of us.”

Watch video of the canoe launch

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Debbie Rattling Leaf (Northern Arapaho) has a hard time calling herself an artist. While she has been creating art for more than two decades, she never seriously considered marrying her love of traditional jewelry-making with a business plan until recently.

“I’m still trying,” said Rattling Leaf, who grew up in Colorado and married a Lakota man. She now lives in Black Hawk, South Dakota. Part of her efforts to grow a business has included teaming up with First Peoples Fund, who awarded her a 2015 Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship earlier this year.

Like many artists, her penchant for creating came naturally. “I just did it because I liked doing it.”

Once she had kids, she started sewing their outfits for pow wows and eventually taught regalia-making classes. “I kept going, and new ideas came to me,” she said.

Putting those ideas on paper was the next step to turning this work into a career. Rattling Leaf plans to use the First Peoples Fund fellowship, and the professional development support it provides, to develop an art booth, design and order business cards, and develop a website. It's all new to her, she noted.

Social media is also new, and admits that it is even a little frustrating at times. She might explore other avenues to promote her work and sell art eventually, like eBay, Pinterest and Etsy. But the hardest work facing Rattling Leaf has less to do with the nuts and bolts of running a business and more to do with her mind, particularly getting used to the idea of seeing herself as a business woman. “I’m trying to change my mindset,” she said.

She traveled to Santa Fe, New Mexico, for a First Peoples Fund training earlier this year, and was encouraged and challenged by the artists she met there.

“It was eye-opening,” she recalled. “You have to think about how to spread your work around."

Another hurdle Rattling Leaf faces is keeping up with inventory. “And maybe part of that is my pricing,” she said.

When she’s not hands-on with the business, Rattling Leaf is spending time with her 16-year-old son, who is autistic. She volunteers in one of his school art classes, teaching the students to make simple pieces of jewelry. “It’s something they can enjoy and it can be their own.”

There’s a special connection she feels with her son when they work on projects together, whether it be art or gardening or spending time in nature. “It’s just joyful,” Rattling Leaf said. “He loves to do anything I do."

She also enjoys sharing the joys of her trade with customers. Taking the time to talk with people who visit her booth has given her more confidence and also given her time to reflect on the history of her tribe, which is from the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming. “There have been a few times where I’ve been challenged,” she recalled, about the authenticity of her jewelry. “It makes me sad,” she said, that she has to defend her work and explain where her stones and beads come from.

“I didn’t have all the answers, but I told them why I made it. It’s been a challenge, but it’s fun. I enjoy meeting people.”

First Peoples Fund has been “awesome,” she said, in changing the way she sees her work and business. Looking down the road, she envisions a place where she has a better grasp of the business and has found balance in her work and home life. “In a year, I hope I have it all together and understand where I’m going,” she said. “I’m still just learning.”

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Brendon Albers’ (Cheyenne River Sioux) art career began with a tragedy four years ago. “My brother got stomach cancer,” said Albers. “I moved to the Sioux Falls area [in South Dakota] and I started doing ceremonies to heal him.”

Albers’ brother passed away a year after his diagnosis, but the reintroduction to the Lakota belief system, culture and traditions stayed with him. “I wouldn’t have become a sun dancer or picked up the Lakota values again if it weren’t for my brother,” he said. “It took desperate measures, but a lot of good came from it.”

He found familiarity and comfort in sculpting rocks and stones by hammer and chisel, a traditional method rarely used today. While his brother was sick, Albers stayed close by his side at the hospital. For 25 days, he spent time between sculpting and caring for his ailing brother. The result was a $2800 piece that the family later sold and used as funding to travel to honoring ceremonies for his brother, Tanner, after his death.

When Albers sold a sculpture to Little Wound High School, he realized he was at a turning point. “I decided then that I wanted to do this for a living,” he said.

Albers recently received an Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship from First Peoples Fund and plans to use the funding and support to expand his new business.

“It bugs me to get rid of originals,” he said with a laugh. Investing in a casting machine would help him make replicas of his original work, allowing him to work more efficiently and increase his sales.

He is also working to expand his social media presence and is in the process of building a website. And, he recently completed work on a large alabaster stone carving of the spiritual holders of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe Women (Pte Ska Win). In Lakota tradition, she taught the Lakota people the seven sacred rituals and gave them their “chanupa,” or sacred pipe. It is now on display at the Sandy Swallow Gallery in Hill City, South Dakota.

“It’s really exciting,” he said. “I feel so grateful. I’ve come a long way in a year.”

It was in a bus that Albers had his first studio. He now shares studio space with his father on a 10-acre piece of property “in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect,” he said. “I’m building a pond before winter.”

Albers has also discovered a love of teaching. Last year he visited a high school art class. “There were guys who were athletes in there, and at first they thought art was ‘girly,’” he said, noting that they were singing a different tune by the end of the presentation. “They saw that you can be rugged and still create beautiful things.”

Helping students understand that art can be more than a hobby, and see it as a potential career path, is one of Albers’ passions now. “I want to reach out to kids who didn’t realize that art was an option,” he said.

His dream is to someday have a studio that is open to students or artists just beginning who are looking for a free place to get started. “There’s a lot of us in Indian Country looking for something for the kids,” he said. “If they want to come and dance or sing Lakota, I’ll find someone to teach them. Singing, dancing, painting… any art form.”

Following your culture shouldn’t be hard, he said. “They shouldn’t have to pay or get discouraged when they can’t find it,” he said.

He hopes First Peoples Fund will be right beside him through the process, he said. “They’re fantastic,” he said. “They’re so family-oriented, so open and trusting. It’s like I was adopted in to a family.”

Brendon Albers is a 2015 Artists in Business Leadership Fellow.

It's a year of beginnings for Dyani White Hawk Polk (Sicangu Lakota).

What the Minneapolis, Minnesota-based artist had hoped would happen at some point in the next three to four years has unfolded in front of her this year.

"I made the big, scary jump to self-employment," explained White Hawk Polk, which included resigning from her position as director and curator of the All My Relations Art Gallery in March and moving from St. Paul to Shakopee to pursue a full-time art career.

It was a good move.

"It's been crazy busy, but it's a good thing," she said.

White Hawk Polk creates paintings and mixed media art. She also does beadwork and quill work, skills she learned from family friends and then later honed at the Institute of American Indian Arts. Her work is a mix of modern abstract painting and traditional Lakota art forms.

"My life experience and education are a mix of western and Indigenous," she said. Her father is German and Welsh and her mother is Lakota, creating a complex family story. "My art has come from trying to figure out how to negotiate all that in myself," she said.

White Hawk Polk has had a long-term goal of creating artwork full-time, and realized that this year was the time to take the leap when she was granted a First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship as well as a Joan Mitchell Foundation Painter's Grant.

"My goal was to get to the point where I could just do my artwork."

It was around the same time that she was offered another full-time job and considered taking it instead of self-employment. She sat down with her family, including her husband, mother, her mother's husband, and her sister-in-law and her partner, to make the final decision. If it wasn't for their support, she said she likely wouldn't have made the leap.

"They said, 'This is your real dream,'" she recalled. "They said, let's jump on it and we'll all figure out how to make it work."

White Hawk Polk said her family moved in with them to make it all monetarily feasible, and her husband now stays home with their two-year-old. The encouragement from her family made the difference. "Without their support and guidance, I may have taken the other job," she said.

With the Artist in Business Leadership fellowship, White Hawk Polk has purchased a new computer and digital projector, as well as industrial-grade tools and equipment for a wood shop. "I can do my own framing, which saves money," she said. "And, if I needed to, I can do it for other people."

She is grateful for the support from First Peoples Fund.

"I'm beyond excited," she said. "I can't even explain what it feels like."

One of the greatest changes in her life has been a separation between work and home. "For so long, I was working seven days a week," she said.

The days are still long, she said, as she works to meet deadlines before she can begin building an inventory. "But when I'm home, I'm home," she said. "Or on the weekends, I get to actually be present. It's so rewarding and refreshing. I feel healthier."

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When it came down to deciding whether or not to pursue a writing career, Sarah Elisabeth Sawyer (Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma) put the decision in someone else's hands.

"I'm a Christian and I knew I needed to surrender all to God," she said, explaining how she evaluated the priorities in her life. "I got to writing and I realized I would only put it back in my life if he put it back. It was the most peace I've ever had in my life."

That was six years ago, and Sawyer, now standing on the cusp of her thirties, is confident writing was a divine appointment. A tribal member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, Sawyer lives in Canton, Texas, and is the author of several books that follow the historical roots of her tribe, their families and history.

For her work and her ambitions moving forward, First Peoples Fund granted Sawyer a 2015 Artist in Business Leadership Fellowship. She travels to Oklahoma at least once a month and continues to write historical fiction that educates people about the culture and historical events of her tribe. "The Executions" was her first novel, focusing on the life of a mixed-blood 18-year-old woman in the late 1800s caught in middle of two political parties warring over the old and new ways of their people.

Though the stories spring from her imagination, the characters are often based on people she has read or learned about and the foundation of the books come directly from the past. "I take events from history and put them in an entertaining form," Sawyer said. "A lot of my ideas come from research."

The opportunity for Native and non-Native audiences to experience history through her fiction is one of the reasons she writes. "A lot of historical fiction out there is inaccurate," she said.

Her work has been endorsed by leadership in the Choctaw tribe, which is uncommon and speaks to the accuracy and thoroughness of the research, she said.

Sawyer receives support and inspiration from her family. Her mother, a photographer and filmmaker, travels and works alongside her. Sawyer's father, inspired by his daughter's desire to capture their tribe's history, had begun writing about his own life when he died suddenly in 2012. It was the same year she was accepted into the artist leadership program at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. for her literary work in preserving Trail of Tears stories.

"It was absolutely the best and worst of times," she said.

Sawyer said she is grateful for a partnership with First Peoples Fund, and was encouraged by her experience at a recent First Peoples Fund gathering of artists in Santa Fe, New Mexico. "I got to meet the other people and they were very welcoming," she said, not only to her but also to her mother who she considers a business partner.

"The grant is very simple and seamless, so I can focus on the project."

The ABL grant enabled her to purchase a new computer and IPad and continue to work toward her goal of a full-time writing career. It also helped her publish "The Executions."

Sawyer also has her sights set on helping others. She will teach for her third year at the Chickasaw Arts Academy this year and envisions a future where she can support others in finding a voice through writing. "I'd like to do more workshops," she said. "I want to help Native writers preserve their family stories."

Feedback from readers is confirmation that she's on the right track—several have started writing their own stories to preserve history. "My mom told me stories of my family," Sawyer said, including her childhood growing up in Texas that included trips to the Trail of Tears Memorial Walk in Oklahoma.
Shaping those stories and putting them down on paper pushed her to do more.

"This has made me delve deeper," she said. "As opposed to it being something I wanted to know more about, it became part of me. People have now taken up writing and started writing their own family stories. People are beginning to take action and the ripple effect is awesome."

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