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My parents were farmers, and my brother and I would work the horse-drawn plow. I had corn seeds in a pouch, and I would drop each seed behind him as he plowed the earth. I went right behind him and dropped the corn seeds as we went. I’ll never forget those experiences.

Arletta Toland (Diné) illustrated the story of her life through American Sign Language (ASL) during an IndigenousWays Virtual Event — Wisdom Circle, via Zoom. An ASL interpreter on a split-screen spoke the words of Arletta’s life of when she hauled water on her family’s farm; then to the fever that took away her hearing; to growing up in boarding schools, foster homes, and her parent’s farm; to now, her life on the Navajo Reservation as a deaf Indigenous woman. Arletta was among dozens of elders who shared wisdom through a bi-weekly series hosted by IndigenousWays.

IndigenousWays (formally Indigenous Solutions) was founded in 2007 by Natasha Terry (Diné/French/Irish) and Elena Higgins (Maori/Samoa). The nonprofit is dedicated to inclusively promoting to diverse communities living in balance concepts through music and artistic expression outreach and events.

IndigenousWays received a First Peoples Fund (FPF) Our Nations’ Spaces grant in 2020 with plans to use the funding to host their second BeautyWays Music and Arts Festival. But in mid-February, they wondered if the event would go on. When the COVID-19 shutdown came in March, they pivoted their plans and started a bi-weekly virtual series. Through the IndigenousWays Virtual Events — Wisdom Circle and Concert Series, they worked with elders, spiritual advisers, communities, artists, musicians, and guest presenters to maintain connections.

“Amber Hoy and Hillary Presecan at First Peoples Fund were extremely supportive,” Natasha says. “We had regular meetings, troubleshooting the online aspects, as we had never done this. We were working month to month, sorting and getting out the monthly calendar of the presenters and their information, updating our website and all our social media pages. This is how we have worked in the past, but not at this insane velocity!”

Natasha and Elena launched the Wisdom Circle and Concert Series on April 1. They continued to dig deep daily to produce two newsletters per week and promote on social media.

They took in feedback and worked with First Peoples Fund to make each week. Now 60 presenters and 60,000 views into the series, they’ve developed a format that respects the presenters and their time, honors the land and people of the land, and informs viewers of other IndigenousWays happenings, including relief for Black Mountain, Arizona on the Navajo Nation.

Hit hard during the COVID-19 crisis, Natasha’s home-place of Black Mountain received $25,000 through IndigenousWays’ fundraising. Since the end of May, they have conducted four relief runs to take emergency supplies and hand-washing stations to communities.

“Because of this platform, we’ve been able to bring relief to Black Mountain,” Natasha says. “We’re going on our fifth relief run, 26 miles up a mountain dirt road.”

The Concert Series presenters — musicians and performers — are thankful for the paid opportunity to present their art. Among the hardest hit by the shutdown, performing artists come online to present poetry, music, and storytelling.

“With the [Our Nations’ Spaces] funding, we’re able to pay all presenters and interpreters,” Natasha says. “They [have] made clear their gratitude of being supported during this time.”

One of the largest audiences reached in this series is the deaf and hard of hearing. Every event is teamed with ASL interpreters to make access available for all, and IndigenousWays introduces a deaf Indigenous elder like Arletta every month.  

“We do a split-screen for the interpreter to be on the other half of the screen,” Natasha says. She is also an ASL interpreter and understands the challenges of live streaming. “It’s very accessible visually.”

Having an ASL interpreter for his performance during the series stands out in Wade Fernandez’s (Menominee) memory. Wade is an FPF Cultural Capital Fellow (2015), Artist in Business Leadership Fellow (2012, 2013), Community Spirit Award Honoree (2010), and FPF trainer. He now does 3-4 live streams per week for several venues — doing his part to bring hope.

“It’s like the [ASL] interpreters are part of the art,” he says. “They’re flowing with the music and the words. You’re doing the music, but they’re part of it; they’re jamming with you. I’m glad to be in the series because it’s reaching people that aren’t reached in other ways. That’s such a beautiful point of what IndigenousWays is doing.”

At the end of each virtual event, Natasha or Elena welcome the audience to turn on their mics and cameras to check in.

“Inviting people on is so well-received,” Natasha says. “It allows people the opportunity to be seen, heard, valued, and to have their lives witnessed during this time. Some people have questions for the presenters, and others just want to say ‘hi.’ According to feedback, our platform actually saved people from committing suicide. The intimacy of having people invited onto the platform at the end of the speaker session proved to be healing for a lot of people.”

As the global audience shaped the series, IndigenousWays decided to stream via Facebook, Instagram, and other platforms. Elders and performers continue to share their wisdom and art through the series while Natasha and Elena seek more funding for it and ongoing relief efforts on Black Mountain.

“IndigenousWays’ ability to transition very quickly has been made possible with the support from the Our Nations’ Spaces grant,” Elena says. “We want to give you all a huge shout out not only for blessing us with the funding but also for your spectacular support. We wouldn’t have been able to do it without your loving support.”

For this series, IndigenousWays also received assistance from the National Endowment of the Arts, National Endowment of Humanities, New Mexico Humanities Councils, NM Arts, Santa Fe City Arts Commission, and individual donors.

This month, we welcomed a new team member to First Peoples Fund’s (FPF) staff — Maya Austin. Her abundant passion, experience, and knowledge will undoubtedly contribute to FPF’s mission to uplift Native artists and culture bearers in these challenging times.

Meet Maya Austin (Pasqua Yaqui, Blackfeet, Mexican-American)

Director / Program Weaver

“My sister is such a beautiful artist,” Maya says, claiming her sister got the family’s artistic genes — but Maya found her talent in supporting artists, especially filmmakers, through her former position as Senior Manager for the Indigenous Program at Sundance Institute. She identified and supported emerging Indigenous filmmakers and content creators across the United States and globally.

Maya is carrying this passion for artists into her role as Director - Program Weaver at First Peoples Fund. She will play a central role in integrating the programs of FPF to grow the Indigenous Arts Ecology.

Digesting the wealth of material that goes into the thought behind FPF’s programs, Maya realizes the depth of support the organization offers to Indian Country and looks forward to actualizing the vision of the FPF team and deepening their investment in the Indigneous Arts Ecology.

“As the Program Weaver Director, my goal is to weave all  programmatic strands to create a strong system of support through everything we’re doing so that all the programs and fellowships are representative of these different strands of work,” she says.

“What I love about the Indigenous Arts Ecology is how it’s grounded in community and ancestral knowledge. How do we grow and cultivate our creative arts landscape from there? That’s intriguing to me.”

For three years, Maya served as an Archivist and Grants Manager at the U.S. Department of Interior, Washington, DC, for the national Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act Program. A board member of Vision Maker Media and the Cousin Collective, Maya has experience as a film curator, instructor, and trainer. She has a bachelor’s degree in History with a minor in Film and a master’s degree in Moving Image Archive Studies, both from UCLA.

“What drives me now is the continued commitment to nurture and invest in our artists,” she says. “The modalities of that through First Peoples Fund is exciting. As Indigenous peoples, we’ve always been expressive and telling stories. But it’s the modality in which we do it that changes and makes us resilient as a people.”

Maya first encountered FPF through her work with Sundance. As part of their programming, she incorporated financial literacy training, which FPF provided. Maya went on to become an Arts Program Specialist with the California Arts Council, a position she most recently held prior to becoming FPF’s Program Weaver.

Maya will be working remotely from her home in Sacramento, where she resides with her husband Tyler and their rescue dog, Wally.

This month, we welcome back a team member to First Peoples Fund’s (FPF) staff — Anna Huntington. Her  abundant passion, experience, and knowledge will contribute to FPF’s mission to uplift Native artists and culture bearers in these challenging times.

Meet Anna Huntington

Grants and Individual Giving Manager

As a two-time Olympic rower and bronze medalist, Anna joined the first all-women team to compete in the America’s Cup in a time when women’s sports were beginning to gain mainstream attention. Anna penned a book, Making Waves, that chronicles her experience.

“I was an athlete my entire life, a competitive swimmer from the age of seven through college,” she says. “I joined the rowing team in college and ended up competing in the 1988 and 1992 Olympics. You often hear about the sacrifices people make in order to go to the Olympics, but I honestly felt so fortunate. I would wake up excited to go and row every day.”

Years of dedication to her sport, being a team player, and writing are skills Anna brings to her position as Grants and Individual Giving Manager at FPF. This new and exciting role will expand FPF’s efforts to bring in individual donors. The hybrid position reflects FPF’s need to fill the grant writing/grants management role and add specific individual giving responsibilities as we move toward diversifying our revenue sources.

Anna previously served as First Peoples Fund’s Development Director for three and a half years and has been working with us since early this year to raise significant foundation funding. She also worked for the Women's Foundation of Minnesota and as executive director of Arts Rapid City. Anna has a bachelor’s degree in English from Harvard University and master’s in Journalism from Columbia University. Her freelance journalism about women’s sports appeared in publications ranging from The New York Times to Glamour.

“We’re delighted to have Anna back on staff,” says Sonya Gavin (Diné), First Peoples Fund’s VP of Advancement and Communications. “I’ve had the pleasure of working with her since I joined First Peoples Fund earlier this year. And in this new position, she has hit the ground running with her knowledge of First Peoples Fund’s programs, grants portfolio and strategic framework. We appreciate and deeply value her writing experience and the work ethic she gained as an athlete. She will contribute greatly to growing our resources for our community of culture bearers & artists and the Indigenous Arts Ecology.”

“As an athlete, you have your goals and your single-minded plans for reaching them, and you get up every day and make it happen,”

“As an athlete, you have your goals and your single-minded plans for reaching them, and you get up every day and make it happen,” Anna says. “I learned a degree of focus and concentration from having to practice that for all those years.”

Anna is working remotely from her home in Minneapolis, the home base for her family. She and her husband, Stewart, raised two children. Their son is working his dream job teaching in Colorado while their daughter has picked up rowing in college.

Anna’s own love for the water and being a team player hasn’t faded.

“I love the team at First Peoples Fund,” she says. “Feeling a part of this group of committed people is inspiring. I always enjoy leaning in with a group of people, knowing that I’m bringing my best to benefit the team.”

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Dennis M. Williams (White Earth Nation-Pillager Band of Ojibwe) is an artist that works in several mediums that involve the modern-day powwow. Dennis does grass dancing, chicken dancing, oratory stories, beading, and regalia making. He founded a dance troupe, “Naamijig” (The Ones Who Dance). He is a 2020 First Peoples Fund (FPF) Artist in Business Leadership fellow, residing in Little Cormorant near Audubon, Minnesota.

Dennis handed over the shoebox for his auntie, Ivy Ailport (White Earth Nation-Pillager Band of Ojibwe), to peer inside and see his work, a pair of fully beaded moccasins. She gasped in pleasure and said, “Oh, nephew, you have a fancy style. I love your fancy style. Don’t ever change it.”

Since that day, Dennis has kept his style of beadwork in regalia-making for others in the powwow world, but foremost, his own family. His dance troupe, Naamijig, is comprised of primarily his family. Dennis beads most of their regalia while his wife, Dana Goodwin, sews the pieces.

From the beginning, I wanted the dance troupe to help educate people about our beautiful culture through song and dance.”

“We were going to contest powwows in the mid-2000s when I was asked to do a dance exhibition for the White Earth Early Childhood program,” Dennis says. “My family and I agreed to perform for them, and that was the start of ‘Naamijig.’ From the beginning, I wanted the dance troupe to help educate people about our beautiful culture through song and dance.”

Dennis is pursuing a degree in Art Education at Minnesota State University Moorhead. That is on hold until the COVID-19 crisis has passed, but he isn’t slowing down. People want Dennis to make regalia for them, and he hopes to expand his bead working into a career, along with other art mediums.

“I like to mix traditional and contemporary materials to create my work,” he says. “This can be anything from leather, velvet, ribbon, fabric, fur, bone, cut beads, rhinestones, mirrors, paint, dye, metal, laser etching, and computer design.”

His latest work was for his daughter’s wedding. Dennis made her a pair of pucker-toe moccasins with floral design, and a matching set of earrings, barrette, and a fully beaded bowtie for the groom, made in colors to match their wedding.

When Dennis’s auntie passed, he and his wife adopted his auntie’s daughter into the family and are also caring for his sister’s five girls. With Dennis and Dana’s twins at home, there are ten in their household. Dennis’s art career is continuing with help from his FPF fellowship and the Gizhiigin Arts Incubator, an FPF Indigenous Arts Ecology grantee. Gizhiigin supports his work in multiple ways, including professional photography of his pieces and connecting him with international press. The dance troupe and Dennis’ fancy-style art are becoming a recognized brand.

“I will never forget my auntie’s traditional teachings she gave me and her approval to also let me be contemporary with my art.”

Her Pomo name is Pikha-bthum-day, which means “basket-flowerwoman.”

This is who Corine Pearce (Redwood Valley Rancheria Little River Band of Pomo Indians) is and what she does.

Corine is a 2020 Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Award recipient. We are honoring our CSA recipients with stories each month through the end of the year.

Feeling to make certain the sliver of sedge root was flat and even, Corine rubbed her tongue over the material clenched between her teeth. The hardest part of the tiny basket was the very first knot. Once she had it going, it looked like a spider. Patiently, Corine worked the material, using a miniature elderberry wood-handled awl a friend made her to pierce the material. She used a beading needle to weave the basket small enough to fit on a dime.

Corine has done basketry weaving for 30 years and has gained speed with decades of practice preparing material and weaving. In the last two years, she put extra effort into regrowing material lost in the recent  California fires.

“I work with many different species of hand-tended, hand-collected and hand-processed local plants,”

“I work with many different species of hand-tended, hand-collected and hand-processed local plants,” she says, “including willow, redbud, sedge, tule, cattails, and dogwood; materials that are impossible to procure from a store, and are culturally and geographically specific. I source all my raw materials by harvesting and tending individual trees, grasses, ferns, bulrushes, and other plants and their habitats within my ancestors’ land base. In nature, these species don’t grow perfectly for basketry. They require training.”

Corine resides in Mendocino County in the center of several “tribelets” that come together for community support, spiritual practice, and ceremony. She is one of the only traditional basketry teachers in her area, which spans three counties, covering over seven thousand square miles. The Redwood Valley Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians, where she lives, contains 30 acres of usable land with 30 houses, an education building, tribal administration building, and her basketry garden.

Receiving a 2020 Community Spirit Award (CSA) touched Corine, acknowledging that her work is critical and encouraged her to keep on. She recently hosted a group from a neighboring Rancheria for a willow harvesting class. She was impacted by the story of one woman struggling with mental health and expressed how the class was the only thing the woman had to look forward to.

“I told my mom, and I started crying,” Corine said. “I keep getting signs that this is the right path. We’re doing the right thing.”

Two years ago, Corine was asked to participate in the local school system’s cultural program and then asked to take it over. Once she was in charge of the program, it went from two schools to all five elementary schools and the high school. She cherishes the opportunity to normalize Pomo culture for Native and non-Native students.

This year, she has done virtual show-and-tell sessions for the students. In one class of 5th graders, Corine was struck with a sudden realization.

“It was on that same weekend, when I was nine years old, that I learned about basketry,” she recalls. “I made my first willow basket when my teacher took us on a camping trip in the Marin Headlands. An Ohlone park ranger showed us baskets and taught us a little bit of how to weave. Then, 35 years later, I’m teaching nine-year-olds about basketry on the same weekend.”

Corine learned to weave by trial and error and from studying family and museum artifacts, traveling the country to find Pomo baskets held in private collections. She discovered a quote from 1580 made by a Russian describing the beauty and intricacy of beadwork on Pomo baskets. The Pomo people made their beads from clam shells then. During the California gold rush days, there was something known as the “basket rush.” When people found there wasn’t much gold, they decided to remain in California and build a life there. A part of that life was collecting beautiful and intricate Pomo baskets. That craze spread with prominent families from the East Coast collecting baskets.

Pomo basketry became a source of pride as the Pomo people perfected every weave and size. The largest known Pomo basket can hold four women standing. The tiniest is held at the Sutter’s Fort Museum in Sacramento, displayed next to a grain of rice. The design is only visible with a magnifying glass.

Along with miniature cradle baskets, Corine makes full-size ones the month a baby is due and is always booked months in advance. When her 15-year-old daughter expressed interest in making a cradle basket for her mentor, Corine was amazed at how naturally her daughter took to weaving. But then, she has watched Corine make baskets all of her life and helped her harvest materials.

Corine’s Rancheria is currently surrounded by fire and is on evacuation watch, but she continues to weave and teach. This month, she and fellow weavers launched a Pomo Basket Weavers Circle. She is also starting a virtual apprenticeship class where she put together kits to send out to create a weave-along experience.

“I’m always driven to perfect what I do because it honors the skill of my ancestors to try to do what they could do.”

“My goal for the new year is to encourage new weavers,” Corine says. “I’m always driven to perfect what I do because it honors the skill of my ancestors to try to do what they could do.”

Corine’s older sister, Jacqueline Graumann (Redwood Valley Little River Band of Pomo Indians), nominated her for the CSA.

“Corine feels it is her duty to volunteer as much time as it takes to ensure that the Pomo basket weaving tradition does not die,” Jacqueline says. “She has practiced and shares her knowledge of Pomo history, traditional dancing, and basket making with at least three generations of local California tribes. Corine is a blessing to our tribe, our community, her students, and our communities’ future.”

"Weaving heals us as a tribe because most people in my tribe have no baskets. We are reclaiming our culture through our basketry."

“When I read the recommendation letters that people wrote, it made me cry,” Corine says. “I thought, ‘Wow, I didn’t know you were thinking that.’ It meant a lot to me to be validated in that way. Earlier in the year, I was still trying to plan my CSA honoring. I talked to everyone, and they said, ‘Of course we’ll come. Everybody will be there. This is important.’ That was great to hear. Weaving heals us as a tribe because most people in my tribe have no baskets. We are reclaiming our culture through our basketry.”

Tiana Spotted Thunder is an Oglala Lakota recording artist from Oglala, South Dakota, on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. She is a vocalist of many genres but specializes in traditional round dance, powwow, and hand game songs. She travels throughout North America to powwows as a backup singer for drum groups and performs solo for powwow audiences. Her vocal abilities range from a soft serenade to an empowering hail, soaring above in a unique way that reveals the pride of her identity as a Lakota woman.

Tiana stood beside the magnificent rock formation, Stone Mother, on Pyramid Lake — a sacred place to the Paiute people. The calm waters reflected the pink and teal of the sky at sunset. Tiana began to sing a prayer song for her father. Her cousin, Wakan Waci Blindman (Paiute), recorded the moment.

Tiana's até (father), Charles Warren, is her inspiration to sing. He was a singer at powwows and for sun dances in his time, and when she was young, he recorded songs for her to learn.

"He gave me my Lakota name from a vision he had which predicted that I would sing (Tasiyagmuka Ho Waste Win, 'Good Voice Meadowlark Woman')."

"He's always been my number one fan," Tiana says. "He gave me my Lakota name from a vision he had which predicted that I would sing (Tasiyagmuka Ho Waste Win, 'Good Voice Meadowlark Woman')."

That moment at Pyramid Lake, on the day before Tiana's birthday, came a month after her father's passing.

When her dad had gone into home hospice care with cancer, Tiana drove from Montana to Nebraska to stay with him. On the way, she composed a song that told of his life. She sang it over and over on the way down.

"I asked if he liked the song, and if it could be his song," she says. "And he agreed."

That time, and song, is making its way onto Tiana's next album, supported by her 2020 First Peoples Fund Artist in Business Leadership fellowship. Tiana had planned to finish the album earlier this year, but with most of her singing career on pause and her father's illness, the project was delayed.

But she knew it was still on the right timing when, a few days after her dad's passing, she took a break from a sweat lodge to make a call, and a bird landed behind her. It looked at her and allowed her to pet then pick it up. She realized it was a female meadowlark, inspiring an idea for the cover art on her album.

"It helped me release built-up grief I was carrying," Tiana says. "That was a blessing in itself because if I had rushed this album and gotten it out at the beginning of the year, I wouldn't have had all this to make my album so much more meaningful."

Her purpose with this album is to promote cultural pride and the Lakota language. Through the project, the strength of Tiana's spirit and voice will echo over Pyramid Lake long after her singing the prayer song for her father.

Marcella Hadden (Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe) is an Anishinaabe artist and business owner in Mount Pleasant, Michigan, specializing in Native American portraits, nature photography, and descriptive imagery. She is a self-taught photographer who owns and operates a photography business Niibing Giizis (Summer Moon), in addition to her full-time job as the Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe of Michigan’s Public Relations Manager.

In her photography studio, she offers specialty services in newborn, boudoir, pets, maternity, seniors, and holiday portraiture.

Marcella is currently raising her granddaughter, who she mentors in photography, and is a 2020 First Peoples Fund Artists in Business Leadership fellow.

Marcella carefully positioned the tiny newborn Connie on her back, getting her in just the right position before snapping a photograph that will last a lifetime. Newborn sessions are often Marcella’s most challenging, but not so with little Connie. The foster baby was perfect in every pose. Connie’s guardian still brings her in for Marcella’s special sessions, from Easter to Christmas.

The challenge in photographing Connie for her second birthday came with Marcella’s newly acquired skill in white box photography. It’s quite a job.

“I had the box made for $500,” she explains. “I shoot different images inside the box, and then put all of them together. It looks like people are interacting, but it’s really just one person in one box. That was a very difficult learning curve! You have to work through all the layers. I bought the templates and forced myself to do it.”

2-year-old Connie was the perfect model for Marcella to exhibit the trendy box photography style.

Most of Marcella’s shoots this year have been outdoors (due to COVID-19), including the porch shoots where she captured families outside their homes for sessions similar to if they had come into her studio. She was also asked by her tribe to document a parade of elders being honored in her community. She has an exhibit at the cultural center on Missing & Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) with portraits of 94 local women.

“For so many years, our beautiful culture had to be hidden; now through my art, I celebrate it,”

“For so many years, our beautiful culture had to be hidden; now through my art, I celebrate it,” Marcella says. “I love going to powwows and community events and sharing my photos with the community. I can take a photograph and in an instant, make a legacy that will last for future generations. I have seen my clients cry at the beauty of a loved one during my photo slideshows. If I can provoke emotions such as tears, a smile, or pure delight, I know I have done my job.”

Banner image: The kahikolu of the MAMo Wearable Art Show: PA'I Foundation's Executive Director and the MAMo Wearable Art Show's Producer and co-emcee, Kumu Hula Vicky Holt Takamine, co-emcee and voluntold entertainer, Kumu Hula Robert Uluwehi Cazimero, and Stage Manager, Kumu Hula Michael Pili Pang.

Native artists who are part of one of First Peoples Fund’s (FPF) Indigenous Arts Ecology (IAE) projects are surviving and thriving through support from FPF grantee, the PAʻI Foundation. Though several large events for Hawaiian artists were canceled due to the COVID-19 crisis, PAʻI has persevered and has plans for an ambitious Fall 2020.

“Our main goal is to help support those artists who have enriched our lives,” says Vicky Holt Takamine (Native Hawaiian), Executive Director of the PAʻI Foundation. “They have given so much to our community through their art, songs, stories, and dances. We want them to know we appreciate everything they’ve given to us in the past.”

"They have given so much to our community through their art, songs, stories, and dances. We want them to know we appreciate everything they’ve given to us in the past.”

PAʻI is a longtime partner of First Peoples Fund and received a 2019 FPF Indigenous Arts Ecology grant. Through the program, they poured energy into preparing their artists for the 13th Festival of Pacific Arts & Culture that was to take place in June 2020. From creating bios to telling the stories of their pieces, Vicky wanted to ensure their artists were prepared to exhibit professionally. Though the event was canceled, she knows the training artists received will help them in the near future.

“We’re looking at strengthening our local artists by doing virtual events with our trainers, as well as offering one-on-one technical assistance sessions for some of the artists,” Vicky says.

For 14 years, PAʻI has held the annual MAMo: Maoli Arts Movement Wearable Art Show. This year, the show is taking on a new form with a one-hour TV broadcast and Facebook streaming program to exhibit past years of the fashion show.

Recent college graduates, all former hālau hula (school of Hawaiian dance) students of Vicky’s, came up with their own initiative to capture artists’ stories through interviews. The videos are going up on PAʻI’s Youtube channel, and clips will be incorporated into the fashion show broadcast.

One artist they interviewed was Kawika Lum-Nelmida (Native Hawaiian), hulu (feather) artist, who also studies historical photos and pieces dating back to when Hawaiian royalty wore feather work on their clothing. Kawika’s work is on display around the world. He began learning lei hulu from Paulette Kahalepuna in 1997 at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, and hula from Vicky.

Kawika has worked the fashion show for years. “I’ve seen the different artists evolve and refine their work,” he says. “With the fashion shows, it’s given not just a local stage; it’s gained international recognition. Being in the show pushes the artists to be better every year.”

The fashion show has launched numerous Hawaiian artists, catapulting their businesses and lifeways into the mainstream. Vicky and her team hope for even more exposure through the fashion show airing on TV.

“Oftentimes, I think it’s about giving artists a leg up, which is what the work of First Peoples Fund and PAʻI do for our community,” Vicky says. “It’s recognizing talent and offering support to them. Give them a place to showcase their work, test their ideas, allow them to figure out what they want to do, let them flourish in their talent, and then provide a platform. We need to give artists the tools and the opportunity to grow.”

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Another major undertaking of PAʻI’s is creating a website where artists can exhibit their work. Many of them aren’t prepared to fully stock their own website. Most of their energy goes into creating single pieces that make it difficult to market. A central website will allow them to continue focusing on their art as cultural practitioners.

“The Indigenous Arts Ecology grant is filling the gap by providing a central location where artists can put their work and provide a worldwide web presence they would not be able to afford,” Vicky says.

“Technology can be a challenge for some of our artists,” says Kaʻiu Takamori (Native Hawaiian). She is a 2017-2018 Intercultural Leadership Institute (ILI) fellow, PAʻI Folk Arts Coordinator, and a certified FPF Native Artist Professional Development (NAPD) trainer. “In this climate, we need to help them accept and embrace technology so that they too have the same opportunities to market...especially on a global level. This all brings in to play some important [areas] tabs in the NAPD training, especially marketing and pricing.”

Kaʻiu underwent a mindset shift when the shutdown happened. Accustomed to at least one event per month, she is now pouring her energy into meeting their artists’ needs through online venues. She is keeping the PAʻI Foundation social media accounts active and using them to support their artists by reposting their merchandise. She started #MAMoMonday, where she pulls photos from shows and markets of the past and posts them. She directs their artists to resources like the FPF webinar trainings, and is also working on rolling out E Hoʻi Ke Aloha, a COVID-19 relief fund for artists.

After the TV broadcast of the unique fashion show, PAʻI will be partnering with the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., to showcase Native Hawaiian artists through their “Arts Across America” online Facebook series. PAʻI is also collaborating with two other nonprofit organizations to bring hula workshops online for beginning and master classes.

All of these endeavors are building up to be a blowout Fall season that PAʻI hopes will give their artists the boost they need to maintain their lifeways.

Despite the challenges to their artists and the cancelation of their most significant events, Kaʻiu is taking heart in their people’s strengths.

“The most beautiful example of resilience I have seen through this crisis was on a Zoom meeting Aunty Vicky and I had with our artists,” she says. “To see that our artists are still creating even when the market is not there, fanned the flames within myself to want to do more for our artists. I saw them cheering each other on and networking about best practices. I usually see this during our markets, artists talking with each other during downtimes. However, to see them still doing it over this new Zoom platform touched my heart. It showed me that they didn’t lose themselves during this pandemic. Seeing this sense of community still alive has awed me to want to make sure that at the end of the day, I am giving all I can to serving my artists and my community.”

“This is a time we need artists to provide uplifting experiences, whether [it’s through] virtual events or posting new artwork,” Vicky says, “to know we are surviving.”

Jessica (Tyner) Mehta is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, interdisciplinary artist and poet, and author of several award-winning books. She is the owner of a small business, MehtaFor, a writing services company that offers pro bono services to Native American led/serving nonprofits.

She integrates technology, family archival photos, and performance art into many of her creative projects. She has undertaken poetry residencies with her work being featured at galleries and exhibitions around the world.

Jessica is a 2020 First Peoples Fund Artists in Business Leadership fellow, and a virtual Artists in Residency at Crazy Horse Memorial, preparing for her first commission with Artist Trust (Seattle) for next summer.

When people come out of Jessica’s virtual reality (VR) poetry experience, they all have the same expression — one of overwhelm at experiencing VR for the first time. But through this new technology, Jessica can introduce them to something else unique to them — Indigenous poetry. Her popup VR experience, “Red/Act,” exposes people to poetry in a fresh, accessible way.

Removing the barrier of intimidation around poetry is something Jessica teaches in classes, especially those for women in prison. It was in this place that an innovative form of poetry blossomed.

“I’m constantly looking for new ways to create while integrating immersion and technology into my practice."

Jessica created the antipode, a poem with roots in both reverse poetry and the palindrome, and can be read forward or backward word by word. Creating one is often more like piecing together a puzzle than writing poetry.

“I found that most participants were drawn towards the antipode because it broke down those walls of what they thought writing poetry should be,” Jessica says. “It gives you permission to play with language and make up your own rules in many ways. It permits us to have fun with language. When you’re writing in this strange way, you have to think, ‘How does it sound forward and backward?” Even then, your organic voice is there. I feel it gives us flexibility and permission to explore and make ‘mistakes,’ and see what’s there.”

Jessica’s journey as a poet continues to open pathways for people to embody poetry. When the COVID-19 shutdown happened right when Jessica opened her ‘emBODY poetry’ exhibition, she worked to get the VR experience online. Her YouTube video takes viewers through one of her poems that were on exhibit.The video was featured at the virtual International Human Rights Festival, typically held in Manhattan.

“My art is a form of healing and trauma management,” Jessica says. “I’m constantly looking for new ways to create while integrating immersion and technology into my practice. It takes a certain type of person to pick up a poetry book or attend a reading. However, performance poetry and VR have the power to attract more people to poetry.”

As a versatile Textile Artist, TahNibaa Naataanii (Navajo) creates weavings and hand felted products between the earth and sky. She is a 2020 Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Award recipient. We are honoring our CSA recipients with stories each month through the end of the year.

Under the shade of an aspen tree, TahNibaa watched her sheep graze in a patch of lush green grass in the Chuska Mountains. She had taken them out at 8:00 am from the corral near the cabin where she and her family spend summers for traditional rotational grazing. TahNibaa herded them up the mountain, carrying her lunch, water, and gun in case of cougars or timberwolves. Sometimes she takes a knitting project, her journal, or an article to read. And sometimes, she sits and observes nature around her, the air scented with Ponderosa pines.

“It’s like a university, a wealth of knowledge when you get out into the environment,” TahNibaa says. “It’s another life up there.”

As a 5th generation Navajo weaver, TahNibaa received a 2020 Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Award (CSA) through First Peoples Fund. Dr. Robert Hill, Professor Emeritus of the University of Georgia, nominated her for the award.

“She is a community animator, art-practitioner, and cultural ambassador."

“Tahnibaa stands out as a quintessential model of someone who carries, and thus diffuses, cultural values and traits,” Robert says. “She is a community animator, art-practitioner, and cultural ambassador. Tahnibaa’s life dedication to weaving has taken her to the four corners of the globe. In 2014, she shared knowledge and exchanged practices in Laos in a project of Three Generations of Cultural Exchange. Her mother and her daughter were participants. In 2017, she participated in a Japanese Weaving Guild Workshop [in Japan] as an honored guest. In 2018, Tahnibaa was a guest in Croatia participating in a project, Woven Messages, sponsored by the Croatian-American Art Society.”

As a young girl, her paternal grandmother gave TahNibaa her Navajo name: TahNibaa Atlo’igii — ‘TahNibaa the Weaver.’

"I began experimenting with weaving patterns, each one liberating my creativity to step into another creative path. Today, I am exploring color and design elements.”

“When I was seven years of age, I came home from school and my mother, Sarah H. Natani, had a loom set up for me and said, ‘Today you are going to learn how to weave,’” TahNibaa recalls. “I started with simple designs and gradually began to do complex patterns. After high school, I joined the U.S. Navy, and my weaving ceased momentarily. After my active duty tour, I began weaving once again, but this time it was different. I began experimenting with weaving patterns, each one liberating my creativity to step into another creative path. Today, I am exploring color and design elements.”

Being a sheep rancher like her parents and grandparents is an art form itself — paying attention to the grass forage to ensure her heritage breed sheep, the Navajo Churro, eat well while learning their behaviors daily. Few people ranch the way TahNibaa does, following the traditional rotational pattern of taking the sheep away from the desert heat and into the mountains each summer. It’s challenging and consuming work, but the only way TahNibaa would do it.

It is how she is teaching her daughter, Winter Rose, who went up in the mountains with TahNibaa to search for what Winter Rose dubbed “patches of paradise.” Sometimes TahNibaa’s grandfather is with the sheep, sometimes her mother throughout the summer.

“As I started walking the Chuska Mountains more and more over the past ten years, I got familiar with the land,” TahNibaa says. “I take the sheep to different areas. Sometimes they get spooked by a fallen branch or a porcupine or a deer, and they’ll take off. If you know the mountain, you can take shortcuts to get to where they’re headed if they outrun you. As a pastoralist, you have to walk with your sheep and know them. That’s the part I like.”

Raising Navajo Churro sheep and shearing them is the first piece of TahNibaa’s process for weaving. She washes the wool, cards, hand spins, and dyes the wool if necessary. She does her weaving on a traditional upright vertical loom.

The warping is a figure-eight technique with designs created using vertical interlock, dovetail stacking, and diagonal stair-step. She explores “wrapping” around the warp technique, creating texture. The warp/weft material combines organic fibers: sheep, goat, buffalo, silk, hemp, rabbit fur, and feathers. She also spins novelty yarn that incorporates beads, feathers, assorted color wool, and silk.

“My fingers get sore when weaving, as does my wrist,” she says. “But my mind seems to be beautifully guided as I lay down the different strands of weft. I often weave a story that will educate our community. I wove a pictorial weaving based on the ‘Navajo Code Talker’ theme that now resides in the collection of the School for Advanced Research, Santa Fe. This knowledge of knowing our military and U.S. history strengthens our community, providing pride in who we are as a people.”

TahNibaa selects a special Navajo Churro ram to breed her sheep every 2 to 3 years to ensure wool quality, and provides meat for her family, ensuring their food source even in a crisis. She manages a herd of 16 - 26, about a fifth of the size of herds from times past.

“Because the land is so barren, we have to manage them in that way,” she explains. “I believe I’ve become an example for my community that I can downsize my flock, yet still be very traditional and continue the weaving traditions.”

As Fall approaches, TahNibaa is bringing her sheep down from the mountain where they will enjoy sweet corn treats and winter at Table Mesa on ancestral lands in the Sanostee community where she has a house. Next summer, TahNibaa will make the trek again to the Chuska Mountains, a two and half hour drive.

“As a matriarch in my small community, and as a person having livestock as my grandmothers and my grandfathers did before me, the Community Spirit Award affirmed that I am walking a very sacred path,”

“As a matriarch in my small community, and as a person having livestock as my grandmothers and my grandfathers did before me, the Community Spirit Award affirmed that I am walking a very sacred path,” she says. “The responsibility I have as a sheep rancher has been a rough road. Even though this pandemic happened, we still have to keep going. I couldn’t say, ‘We can’t go to the mountains.’ When June came, we took the sheep up. I get so close to wanting to put my hat down and say, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ But being recognized and telling my story to First Peoples Fund helped affirm that this lifeway is important to keep.”

Banner image: Eagle Hat - acrylic on a hat woven by Judy Helgeson

Multimedia artist X̱ʼunei Lance Twitchell (Tlingit & Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska) works in Indigenous language revitalization, Tlingit language teaching and curriculum, poetry, screenwriting, Northwest Coast design, fiction, nonfiction, critical theory, music, and film.

Having practiced traditional arts for twenty-two years, he now creates in electronic media using a tablet, then transfers the designs to wood, leather, fabric, woven hats, and other items that are often made into dance regalia. He shares his knowledge through community workshops, university classes, a YouTube channel, and blog.

A First Peoples Fund (FPF) Cultural Capital fellow, Lance owns and operates his multi-media company Troubled Raven from Juneau, Alaska, where he lives with his wife and three children.

Lance entered Nathan Jackson’s (Tlingit) workshop, a space filled with the fresh scent of wood shavings. Staying with an auntie while finishing his education at the University of Alaska Southeast in Ketchikan, Lance was right across the road from the workshop of this world-renowned artist.

Nathan Jackson, a 2000 FPF Jennifer Easton Community Spirit Awards honoree, has practiced art for almost sixty years and is recognized for his traditional wood carvings, metalwork, and sculptures. He has created over fifty totem poles, some of which are found in museums in North America, Asia, and Europe.

Nathan welcomed Lance into his workshop. It was the first of many times that Lance would sit in the workshop and sip coffee as they talked about life, culture, and what it means to be a professional artist. All the while, Nathan kept working.

“I would go over in the mornings and show him some of my artwork,” Lance says. “I was always blown away with how productive and professional he is. I talked to him 10 years ago about doing a mentorship program, and he was excited. My [FPF] fellowship is helping bring that into reality.”

In addition to the support from First Peoples Fund for the mentorship, Lance also received funding through the Native Arts and Cultures Foundation.

With the 2020 shutdown, he and Nathan have not met in person very much, relying mostly on video conferencing to push forward with the mentorship. This comes with challenges on both ends — Nathan doesn’t use technology much, and it’s hard for Lance to see the intricate details of what he’s working on.

Though it’s slowed down the flow of knowledge, Lance is still absorbing critical lessons from Nathan and plans to write a book about his mentor’s life and work.

Lance spends his own life creating and pushing himself to understand the masters of long ago through their art, language, story, and song. He’s developing skills in metalwork and engraving with Nathan’s guidance.

“In my artwork, writing, and music, I want anyone to be able to see it and tell that it is not a mass-produced foreign imitation,” Lance says, “that it is made by a person who is always seeking to improve on craft, space, symbology, and cultural knowledge.”

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Raised primarily in Colorado, Anna Kahalekulu (Native Hawaiian) is the daughter of a Hawaiian father and Caucasian mother. Her dad took the family home to Hawai’i often so they could reconnect. Hula was Anna’s first cultural art medium that she learned. In 2007, she moved home and settled on Maui, where she began learning fashion and traditional weaving.

Anna’s brand, Kūlua, made its debut in 2015 at the MAMo Wearable Art Show hosted by the PA’I Foundation. She has shown collections annually for five years in the Maui show and twice in Honolulu. Kūlua has part-time and full-time employees, seven wholesale accounts, a storefront, and an online shop.

Anna is a 2020 First Peoples Fund Artists in Business Leadership (ABL) fellow and lives in Wailuku, Hawai’i, with her family.

“A garment isn’t fully finished until it comes to life as it is worn,”

At a Maui Arts & Cultural Center event, Anna was standing in line at the bar during intermission when a tall woman caught her attention by the confident way she carried herself. With a start, Anna realized the dress the woman was wearing was one of her own creations — a combination of fabric, texture, form, and flow. And now, movement.

“A garment isn’t fully finished until it comes to life as it is worn,” Anna says. “It’s always my aim that the woman who wears my creations will walk a little taller, feeling connected, grounded, and beautiful.”

Anna danced hula from a young age, but when she started a family of her own, hula took on a different role in her work in fashion. There is always a story behind her print designs and colors. They mirror what Anna learned through her hula life, telling her people’s stories through dance and music.

“Beyond that, there’s a larger context to the work that I’ve chosen to do,” she says. “It’s hugely important to have Hawaiians creating and making, then also being in public spaces and having storefronts. That brings products and bearing to the community because we not only exist within ourselves, but we exist in the larger society.”

The color story of Anna’s creations comes from an earthy palette. Even her brighter colors are subtle, never loud or bold. But they make people look twice, like Anna did herself when she saw the woman at the Cultural Center. The fabric designs are personal to Anna, but she leaves room for the wearer to define and express the final meaning themselves.