PART 2: Q&A with Native Hawaiian Surfer & Craftsman Tom "Pōhaku” Stone

Native Hawaiian surfer Tom "Pōhaku” Stone rides the waves near his home in Hawai`i. From May 20 through 25, Stone—an artist-in-residence at NMAI in Washington—will carve a traditional Hawaiian surfboard and sled in the museum's Potomac Atrium. Photo courtesy of the artist.

 

For this year's celebration of Native Hawaiian art, history, and culture, the museum welcomes Tom “Pōhaku” Stone, a Native Hawaiian carver from O`ahu, Hawai`i, as an artist-in-residence from Sunday, May 20, through Friday, May 25. Stone will spend the week in the museum's Potomac Atrium demonstrating his skills as he carves a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (papahe´enalu) and lashes together a traditional Hawaiian sled (papaholua).

In the second part of a two-part Q&A, Stone talks about what it was like growing up in Hawai`i, how he first became intersted in traditional Hawaiian sports and crafts, and what it takes to make a great longboard.

Tell me about Hawaiian sledding. I've read that you used to barrel down grassy hills as a child before you even knew about the cultural history of he´e holua. How did you first learn about it?

I originally was taught how to slide downhill on tī leaves, which is the first step to learning to ride the actual sled. You would take a stalk of tī leaves and sit on it to slide down a 50 to 70 percent slope on dirt or mud. It was just a cultural practice that we grew up with because it was taught to us at a young age. I believe the intention was to prepare us to commit to the downhill.

Stone holds a traditional hōlua sled. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

Can you tell me about how the ancient sport was used to honor Hawaiian gods? How did the tradition come to an end? When was it revived?

Hōlua sledding and the slide constructed (with a few exceptions) was built off of cliff faces or steep hardened lava slopes, which is the physical representation of Pele the volcano goddess. We usually performed this sport to honor her, showing all that we are willing to sacrifice ourselves; this was also a way for a great Ali'i Nui to show that he was a chief who would sacrifice his life for the people, which also applied to the warriors. When the conversion process from our traditional worshipping to Christianity occurred following the death of Kamehameha I in 1819, the slides and accompanying heiau (areas of worship) were some of the first structures to be dismantled under missionary supervision. Based on my research, this was due to various factors: 1) worshipping female gods went against the white male Christian beliefs; 2) [missionaries] needed to break the connection to the religious system; 3) as the Natives were in cultural collapse due to our great dying from foreign disease, we were looking for a god that would kleep us alive and at the time we believed what the missionaries were preaching.

The art of hōlua was resurrected in 1994 through my efforts to revive our knowledge and connection to this ancient sport that spanned the high islands of the Pacific and to reconnect us to our religion—the of honoring our 400,000 gods for giving us life over 30,000 years.

Stone lashes together a traditional Hōlua. Photo courtesy of the artist.

How is a basic sled built?

The papahōlua is constructed in three parts and reflects the image of a living person who is offering up a sacrifice, which is usually the riders themselves. The three parts are:

The runners (kama`a loa, or "long shoes"), which I draw freehand. The front section that I call the "hand of offerings" is meant to present the offering, and the body extends back as a person prostrating himself. A runner measures in average 12 feet in length by 2 to 4 inches in height by 1 inch in wide.

Then you have the crosspieces (`iako), similar to the outrigger canoe boom when lashing a double-hull canoe support together. The number of these pieces used to lash the runners together is dependent on their length; runners can reach up to 20 feet long.

The last is the handrails (pale), rounded and lashed together with bamboo ('ohe), which provides flexibility to the papahōlua.

The injuries I have are just what happens when you ride hōlua, but what keeps me doing it is my kūleana or responsibility to keep this cultural practice that strengthened our mind, body, and spirit alive. Practices such as this are what keeps us strong when facing the unknown, keeps us connected to who we are as ocean people, to see ourselves as living people with an intact culture rather than be assimilated.

How did you get into teaching? What is the hardest part? What’s your favorite part?

My dedication to passing on the knowledge of our kūpuna [grandparents]; bridging the gap between student and teacher, for students to understand the significance of past, present, and future; the living knowledge and history of my native world and knowing that it is alive with every breath I take.

What is your advice for young Hawaiians who want to reconnect with their culture? What are the new challenges for this younger generation in doing so?

Live for the future but embrace the old ways as your guide, and carry on the traditions that today impact the world. We are a people the world embraces and wishes to know who we are.

How long does it take to carve a surfboard? A sled? What is the oldest Hawaiian sled in existence?

It takes me when I am fully committed to one surfboard, five days from raw material to finish; for the sled it takes a total of 32 hours approximately. The oldest sled known to me is in the Bishop Museum. It belonged to Kanemuna (a great Ali'i Wahine, woman chief) from Ho`okena, Hawai`i Island. The name of this sled is Lonoikamakahiki.

Come meet Stone in person during his artist-in-residency through Friday, May 25, or join him and other Hawaiian artists at this year's annual Celebrate Hawai`i festival on Saturday and Sunday, May 26 & 27, 2012.

For the full schedule of events, visit the museum's website.

To read Part 1 of our Q&A, click here.

This Day in the Maya Calendar

Cholq'ij, the Maya sacred ceremonial calendar of 260 days—a cycle of 20 Day deities and 13 numbers—is the basis of the Maya spirituality that survives to this time, practiced daily among millions of Maya people, in thousands of communities. The interpretation of the days can vary from one Maya people to another. The interpretations given here are based on sustained conversations and participation over three decades with Maya Q'eqchi calendar priest Roderico Teni and daykeeping families in the area of Cobán, Alta Verapaz, Guatemala, by Jose Barreiro (Taíno), head of NMAI’s Office of Latin America, and his wife, Katsi Cook (Mohawk). The glyphs representing the Day lords were painted by Esteban Pop Caal (Q'eqchi Maya).

For more background to this series, please see Jose's introduction, "Living in the Practice." For further insight into the role of the Day lords in everyday life, please see the Maya Journal. For the complete year so far, please see the Maya calendar archive. 

Illustrations: Esteban Pop Caal (Q'eqchi Maya), calendar glyphs. Cobán, Alta Verapaz, Guatemala; 2003. Paint on wood. Purchased from the artist. 26/2685. Photo by Ernest Amoroso, NMAI. Glyphs representing the Day lords appear throughout Maya County.

6 I'x  |  Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 6 I'x. I'x is Jaguar; 6 is a middle, even number. I'x is woman's energy day. This is a day to connect with your own land and to pray for its original owners; to pray for and appreciate your house; to pray for the finances to buy and sustain land; to ask for fertility in humans and animals; to request vigor and strength for reproductive organs, particularly female. I'x is a good day to pray to the mountains in favor of the land. It is a good day for a woman to request strength in her husband's commitment to matrimonial stability. People born on I'x have a close relationship to el Mundo and receive good access to precious metals. I'x is a good day for solitude and meditation. —Jose Barreiro 

5 Aj  |  Monday, May 28, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 5 Aj. Aj is Cane Reed; 5 is one hand. Aj begins the women's cycle, sentiments of family and home, the spinal cord. Aj is life and receives life. This is a day of resurgence, renewal, as in the reed and the corn; a day for the triumph of good over evil, life over death; a day of happiness, renewal of food, money, the heart of life. People born on this day renew their communities; they are sickly as children and sturdy as adults; they are especially lucky; they are good awakeners of their families and communities; they make good midwives. Aj is a good day to ask for clarity of destiny, a good day to pray for the protection of your life and of the newborn, a good day to pray for twins, a good day to pray for humanity. 

In the Pop Vuh, sacred book of the Maya-Quiche, Jun Ajpu Ixbalanké planted a cane in his grandmother's home. The plant would blanche or renew, as he died and was resurrected in the fight of the Hero Twins with the Xibalbas, Death Lords of the Underworld. This story, central to Maya spirituality, is remembered in the oral tradition, independent of academic literature. —J. B.

4 Eh  |  Sunday, May 27, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 4 Eh. Eh is Bobcat, also the Path and the Tooth; 4 is balance. Eh can orient individuals, groups, or communities to their destiny. Eh is the day to ask for protection from dangers and obstructions during travels—specifically, that on your road the attention of thieves or highway police or border inspectors will be deviated from your trajectory. Solitude is in Eh, light rain, kindness, alignment. People born on this day can be good counselors, spiritual guides with the gift of prayer to Ajaw (Creator) on the destiny of things. Also, good dentists are born on this day. Eh is one of the four pillars of the 20 days, a Yearbearer—a strong, especially sacred day. A prayer started in Batz can be carried by Eh through the full cycle of 20 days. —J. B.

3 Batz  |  Saturday, May 26, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 3 Batz. Batz is Monkey; 3 is a rotor. Monkey braid, monkey fingers, monkey tail, Batz is the grasp of the monkey's hand so tight and braided the fist will not let go, even in death. Batz is a good day for beginnings, and for some Maya daykeepers, Batz begins the 20-day calendar. Batz is unity, a good day to tie things together, a good day for a marriage or to start a construction, a good day for initiation into the ways. Batz is the thread of Time that rolls out from under the earth, weaving life until cut, weaving Time into History. People born on Batz are calm and self-confident; they make good spiritual guides and leaders, good-hearted architects. —J. B.

2 Tzi  |  Friday, May 25, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 2 Tzi. Tzi is the Canine, the guardian; 2 is duality. Dog, Wolf, Coyote, Tzi can be snarly, terrifying the unprepared with his bark and his bite. Tzi people are zealous to guard the sacredness of ceremony, to identify and punish "intruders," those not disciplined to participate. Benevolent to friends and fierce to enemies, Tzi is steady to reward or punish. Tzi will punish those who disrespect the Days and the spirit of the family. This is a good day to ask for mystic insight for leaders so that they can seek and discover hidden things, so that they can be just. Tzi has strong sexual energy, hard to restrain. When this energy is defined, people born on Tzi make loyal friends, husbands, and wives. —J. B.

1 Toj  |  Thursday, May 24, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 1 Toj. Toj is the mystic Fish, the tear of jade and the drops of rain, water falling; 1 is the beginning. Toj is a day of making even, a good day to pay spiritual and financial debts and to collect what you are owed. This is a day of evenness for a family, a good day for parents to pay the family's debt to el Mundo, good for the oldest son to appreciate the father and the father to appreciate the mountain. Illness can be deviated from the family by making a ceremonial offering on this day. —J. B.  

13 Anil  |  Wednesday, May 23, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 13 Anil. Anil is the fertility in the seed; Anil is Rabbit. 13 is the highest energy. Anil is red, white, yellow, black—the four colors of corn, the seed of life that is the unity of the world. Anil is renewal after death, regeneration of the earth. Anil people are four-directions people and can be good travelers. This is a day of coming back, a day to generate and appreciate abundance, a day of declaring love to create a new relationship, a day to announce the wish to do business, a day of finding lost things, a day to ask for help in overcoming shyness. —J. B.

12 Kiej  |  Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 12 Kiej. Kiej is the Deer; 12 is the highest balance. Kiej is the four directions, four hoofs striking the earth at once, the quaternity of the cosmos linked to prayer, highest aviso to el Mundo. Kiej is the staff of authority, keen energy of a chief to detect danger, perception of the leader buck, his horns. Kiej is a good day to pray for mental and physical agility, a day of agile travelers and good communicators. It is a day also to ask for clarity before gossip and ill intentions. A major gift of nature, Kiej holds indefatigable energy. He is one of the four main carriers of time. —J. B. 

11 Kame  |  Monday, May 21, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 11 Kame. Kame is the Owl, and the recognition of Death; 11 is high turbulence. A day that recalls the night, tranquility, and silence, Kame is a good day ask for the ancient and recent ancestors who have gone on, to thank them, and to remember them with purpose. This is an appropriate day to extend reconciliation, to feel and give forgiveness, to develop patience, to invok e against mortal illnesses, to access superior knowledge. Without fear, it is a good day to approach the spiritual dimension, "the enchantment." —J. B. 

10 Kan |  Sunday, May 20, 2012 

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 10 Kan. Kan is the Snake; 10 is a high balance. Kan is the ancient origin—Gucumatz, the Plumed Serpent. Kan is a day of impartial and strict justice, a day of definition and maturity, and a good day to offer respect and to thank the corn. On Kan, matters of justice, judges, and courts can be cleared up. It is a good day to pray that truth and justice manifest in the Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth; a good day to put aside jealousies and request equilibrium in life and in the family. This is a day to ask for physical strength and patience, to contemplate our spiritual evolution, and to rekindle the internal fire. —J. B. 

9 Kat  |  Saturday, May 19, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 9 Kat. Kat is Spider, also Web and Fire; 9 is a high rotor. On Kat, the unity of the people is paramount, and knowledge is deepened. Kat is the network of the sacred heart, the family hearth. Today is a good day to pray for your family fireplace, the spirit of the fire that belongs in the home, the one that calls other spirits to ceremony and speaks for them. Kat is the net that hauls in the fish and the net that holds the ears of corn, a day that can bring the fruition of things and the untangling of complications. This is a good day to help free prisoners from captivity, to request vigor and power for the weak.  —J. B. 

8 Aqbal  |  Friday, May 18, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 8 Aqbal. Aqbal is the Dawn, also Bat; 8 is a double balance. Aqbal is clarity, the separation of darkness and light as the Sun disperses the fog and obscurity of night. This is a good day to ask for a peaceful and happy daybreak, a day to find hidden and lost things, a day to wash away tears of sadness. On Aqbal, the sacred fire is recognized and appreciated. Aqbal is a good day to clean the ashes (renew the heart) of a fireplace and to present a new baby to el Mundo. A potential bride or groom can be revealed on this day. Harvesting of corn can begin on this day. 

People born on Aqbal relate in the present and are a special link between past and future. They are early risers, good workers, tranquil and kind, strong before an enemy, good researchers and finders of hidden things, often called "the candle of the home." —J. B. 

7 Iq  |  Thursday, May 17, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 7 Iq.
Iq is Wind, also Moon; 7 is a pivotal number. Wind is powerful, violent, driven of itself, identity. A day of strong emotion, Iq is also a healing day. Good wind is nutritional for human minds; it is the mystic breath and vital inspiration of nature. On Iq, a breeze or wind that splits against your face is a blessing and a cleansing to purge your head and body of illness. Respiratory ills are prayed over on this day. 

This is a good day to appreciate all of Creation. The Day lord Iq is one of the four Yearbearers, or mams, a creator who helped finish the world and put breath (essence) in human beings. People born on Iq are inclined toward spiritual ways and can impulsively tap into cosmic sources. —J. B. 

6 Imox  |  Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 6 Imox. Imox is Lizard; 6 is a middle, even number. Imox is the very force of gravity and a good day to pray for creativity and for rain. Imox can open el Mundo to receive cosmic messages. Known as a "crazy" day, Imox requires much concentration and control. A day of high male intelligence, also impatience and agitation, Imox can be difficult. Grounded on its left side, left arm, this day is easily unbalanced and in need of clasping left and right hands. Imox can be good if held in the balance of the Heart of Sky and Heart of Earth; unattended, Imox can manifest imbalance, mental nervousness, and even death. People born on Imox are open and sincere, but indecisive—in need of ceremony to set the positive to override the negative. —J. B.

5 Ajpu  | Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 5 Ajpu. Ajpu is Caracol, Spiral Shell; 5 is one hand. Ajpu is the Sun, captain of Time, a day of personal strength and for good to triumph over evil. Ajpu, who cares for the boys and guides men, begins the men's cycle. This is a day to connect with the ancestors, who can reward and punish. Death is reachable and amenable; spirits can ask permission to enter el Mundo, the living world. Day of the warrior, and blowgun hunter (cerbatanero), Ajpu is the strong blow of the dart that hits its target, a good day to pray for stealth or for a break in enemy lines. Ajpu is also a good day to start building on a house, a good day to make prayers for women and for success in lactation.

The Hero Twin Jun Ajpu Ixbalanke defeated the Xibalbas and fooled them into accepting the offering of copal rather than a human heart. In near and remote ways, this character and this episode from the book of the Maya ancients endure as backdrop to the day Ajpu. —J. B.

4 Kawoq  |  Monday, May 14, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 4 Kawoq. Kawoq is Turtle, also Sky Serpent; 4 is balance. Kawoq is a high woman day—a day of duality in all of nature and a guardian of contentment. It is the day of woman and man, lightning and thunder, fecundity and imagination; a day of midwives; a day of prayer for unity within the home, strength within the family, renewed strength for convalescents, and the smoothing of all irritation. This is a good day to turn bad medicine back on itself. Kawoq attends to young women in pregnancy, labor, and delivery, and to full realization for all women; it is a day of their sash. Kawoq is also a good day to commemorate the Staff of Authority, a good day for the men of a family and community to pray for the coffers (good fortune) of the women and for the protection of the home. Good midwives, writers, and architects are born on this day. —J. B.

3 Tijax  |  Sunday, May 13, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 3 Tijax. Tijax is Fish, also Obsidian; 3 is a rotor. Tijax is a day of doctors, good to pray for surgeons and all medical practitioners; a day of sacrifice and liberation from suffering; a day of sharp, cutting objects, of knives and scalpels and scissors. Tijax is a safeguard for domestic animals against predators, a good day to pray for all animals that are sacrificed, both in ceremony and in everyday life. Tijax is a good day to use metal (a machete, scissors) to "open the sky"—to solicit rain, solicit life, split black clouds. Gossip, calumny, and sorcery, on money and sexual matters, can be overcome on this day; on a high-number day, disputes can turn public and become debilitating. Tijax is a good day for seasoned masters to fortify daykeeping trainees against ridicule by envious countrymen or evangelicos. It is not a good day to plant. —J. B.

2 Noj  |  Saturday, May 12, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 2 Noj. Noj is Woodpecker; 2 is duality. Noj is a woman's highest intelligence. Maya knowledge and wisdom live in this day—good science to support positive deeds, good projects, good business, a good home. On Noj good ideas are available through the intelligence connected to the movement of the earth. Boys born on this day have important female qualities and can be attentive to the knowledge of nature, which rules all. Girls born on this day can be clear leaders. This is a good day to hear advice and make decisions, a good day to feed the mind, recognize curiosity, and strengthen memory. Noj is one of the four Yearbearers. —J. B.

1 Ajmac  |  Friday, May 11, 2012

Corresponding with this day in the Gregorian calendar is 1 Ajmac. Ajmac is Bee, also Vulture; 1 is the beginning. On Ajmac ancestor spirits can detect and smooth the thread of time in our lives. Prudence, intelligence, ancient wisdom are in this day. This is a day to plead forgiveness for serious faults and to be judged. It is a day that demands moral rectitude, respect, and sincere analysis. On this day our faults (stains) must be faced and paid for; humble request for pity is encouraged. Ajmac is a propitious day for the women of a household to make peace with one another after conflict, to apologize for sharp words; it is a  good day to pray for smooth relationships and the renewal of agreements among women. Hard luck can face those born on Ajmac. —J. B.

PART 1: Q&A with Native Hawaiian Surfer & Craftsman Tom "Pōhaku” Stone

Surfer Tom "Pōhaku” Stone carries one of his own creations near his home in Hawaii. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

For this year's celebration of Native Hawaiian art, history and culture, the museum welcomes Tom “Pōhaku” Stone, a Native Hawaiian carver from O`ahu, Hawai`i, as an artist-in-residence from Sunday, May 20, through Friday, May 25. Stone will spend the week in the museum's Potomac Atrium creating a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (papahe´enalu) and sled (papaholua) in front of visitors.

In the first of a two-part Q&A, Stone talks about traditional Hawaiian culture and what it takes to make a great surfboard. 

Tell me about growing up in Hawai`i. What are some of your earliest childhood memories? 

The earliest is living and growing up on the beaches of Kahana Bay, Waimanalo, Waikīkī, Kailua, where I learned the ways of the ocean, to fish and surf. I had an opportunity to surf with [Olympic swimmer and legendary surfer] Duke [Kahanamoku], Blue, Steamboat, and the other beachboys of the time. I had the chance to ride those great wood boards they had then. My dad carved the first board I owned. I had time to live with my grandfather, who told a lot of stories about leaping off of cliffs and sliding down the mountainsides on tī leaves and hōlua sleds. I also grew up in a remote area of the Big Island in a place called Hawi on my great-uncle's ranch. I lived everywhere throughout Hawai`i, learning our cultural traditions.

What are some of the most common misconceptions you come across about Hawai`i and its indigenous culture? 

That we as Hawaiians are not alive anymore; that surfing is the sport of kings only; that women did not participate in traditional Native Hawaiian sports such as surfing and hōlua sledding.

What can you tell me about the history of surfing? When did it become popular?

I know for a fact that surfing is uniquely Hawaiian, and that surfing (standing on a craft made specifically for the purpose) as we know it began in Hawai'i and no other place in the world. Hawai`i is the only place in the world where the artifacts are found that connect us to this ancient sport, the Hawaiian people, or Kanaka Maoli, as we are properly referred to.

Surfing would become popular when Alexander Hume Ford, along with the annexationists (individuals who conspired to take our nation with the help of the U.S.) needed to sell a tourist destination. Surfing was the most attractive cultural activity that called out to affluent foreigners who were seeking adventure and the experience of going native, which would become world-renowned during the 1920s. Duke would become in essence the "Hawaiian poster" surfer. Duke shared his ocean knowledge with anyone who wished to learn, including myself as a young boy.

Stone poses with a collection of boards near his home. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

What stories do you remember hearing as a child? Do you now tell the same stories? 

The great feats of surfing, paddling across the channels between the islands, the great leaps of faith from high cliffs, learning to fly like the birds, hōlua; I still tell the stories, but now I also include my experiences as a means of keeping our history and culture alive for generations to come.

Tell me about the “Pohaku” in your name. What does it mean? Where did it come from? Why the quotes?

Pōhaku is the Hawaiian word for "stone" or "rock," but in the deeper meaning Pōhaku means "Master of Darkness," which comes from a Hawaiian concept of someone who is given the responsibility to preserve life, and where that life originates from—the darkness itself.

For our family, we would hānai, or adopt, this name in the early 1860s, when all Native Hawaiian children born after 1860 were required to have an English surname. This was a law initiated by white American business and missionary men who had now dominated our Hawaiian government. A man named Samuel Stone arrived in Hawai`i during this time, and my family hosted him in our home. Alomalie, our great ancestor, would eventually have a son who would be named Samuel Stone—not because Samuel Stone actually fathered this boy, but because it gave my family the opportunity to abide by the laws of our Kingdom and adopt the name Stone. Our actual name is Mahihelelima, who was the last great Kohala Ali`inui of Hana, Maui as well.

When did you first learn to surf? What was it like? What made you want to continue? 

I was four years old when I can first remember riding a wave with the wind coming at me and the water splashing off of the sides. I was six years old when I paddled out to Waikīkī, caught my first wave on a giant board that belonged to [Hawaiian wrestler] Curtis Laukea. At eight, I carried one of the great wood boards to the water and surfed at Canoes, a famous spot at Waikīkī. Riding a wave has never changed for me. It is that glide across the face of the wave as it takes you on a ride that is one-on-one with you and the mana, or energy, of the ocean.

Stone works on a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (papahe’enalu). Photo courtesy of the artist. 

How did you first learn to carve boards? Can you tell me about the history behind the tradition?

My dad actually carved me a board from wood, and I was fortunate to watch him go through the entire process, so I would have to say that it was my dad who taught me the traditional art of surfboard carving. There were others like Duke, Blue, Steamboat, Rabbit who I would get to watch, and my grandfather (tūtū kahanu), who would tell me stories about the old time and places. Like all other cultural practices of my people, this was what all people know how to make since we all would surf and play in the ocean. But there were individuals who are masters at the art of surfboard-making and riding a wave on all types of boards crafted for the art of wave-riding. It would be these individuals who would make surfboards for the Ali`i Nui (chief).

What are the basic steps of carving a board? What makes a board more successful than others?

The real basic step is how you bless the wood so the spirit of the actual tree that provides the piece remains alive while it goes through its rebirth. Preparing it means that the wood might be buried in a lo`i kalo, buried in sand, or submersed in the ocean—for years depending on the size—to remove the sap and place in it other natural elements that would stabalize the wood to keep it from twisting or cracking, and perhaps to change its color. The board would then go through a slow drying process while it was worked on, which could take years using stone implements. This, in the end, is what traditionally makes one board more successful then another.

Meet Stone in person during his artist-in-residency, or join him and other Hawaiian artists at this year's annual Celebrate Hawai`i festival on Saturday and Sunday, May 26 & 27, 2012.

For the full schedule of events, visit our website.

To read Part 2 of our Q&A, click here.

A Native Son's Tribute to New York

Thomas W. Coffin (Prairie Band Potawatomie). Untitled (Coyote arrives in New York), 1988. Pastel on paper, 40 x 40 cm.

Note: To support the museum, please go to Partners in Preservation and vote for NMAI-NY. Your vote may make the difference in the museum's earning a grant of $200,000 toward construction of a new children's learning center at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York. We appreciate your taking the time to vote every day through May 21. Thank you.


If I can make it here, I’ll make it anywhere!—Centuries before American pop culture immortalized living in New York as the ultimate measure of success, generations of Native people—a few known, most not—were making it here, and we continue to make it here every day. It was Native people, not Broadway talent scouts or Madison Avenue ad men, who first determined that New York was the place to be. With its many waterways and ample natural resources, Mannahata—“the hilly island” in the language of the Delaware—and its environs provided a bountiful home for several Native communities. What is now New York City was a melting pot long before the Dutch, the English, and other immigrants laid claim to it.

New Yorkers readily recognize the Native presence here in the many Native place names around the metropolitan area. Yet it may surprise many to know that New York City has the largest urban population of Native people in the United States. Almost 90,000 New Yorkers claim American Indian or Alaska Native heritage, according to the 2000 census. I am one of them.

I’m also the only native New Yorker in my family and, like any New Yorker, very proud of that fact. My Pueblo father and Spanish mother were born and raised in New Mexico. My two sisters were born in Nebraska and California, respectively. My father was the first Native American dentist in the United States, and his tours of duty in the U.S. Public Health Service took our family to various places around the country. In the summer of 1960, the family moved from Harlem, Montana—on the Fort Belknap Reservation, home of the Gros Ventre and Assiniboine tribes—to Staten Island, where my dad had been assigned to a residency program. I was born less than a year later. This would be our last stop.

My family remembers their arrival in New York. As my father approached the city on the New Jersey Turnpike, he caught his first glimpse of the famous Manhattan skyline. At that moment, he decided not to take the Staten Island exit, but to head straight for that skyline, which he had only seen in movies like Broadway Melody and 42nd Street. With my mother and sisters in tow, he drove our 1958 Chevy over the George Washington Bridge and headed downtown, into the heart of the city, to see Times Square, Macy’s (from Miracle on 34th Street), the Empire State Building (On the Town, An Affair to Remember, King Kong), the Metropolitan Opera House, and other iconic New York sites. As every New Yorker knows, he’d have been better off taking the Lincoln Tunnel, but he wanted to see everything. Heaven only knows how this Pueblo dentist, just in from Montana, navigated his way through Manhattan’s streets and traffic, but he was on a mission. For him, this was New York. Still is. 

After spending a few nights in a Staten Island motel, my parents found an apartment at the northern end of the borough. At night, from the dining-room window of our small apartment, we could see the lights of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge as it was being built. I am certain that these early memories, along with the knowledge that my Grandpa Blue Spruce was an accomplished draftsman and furniture-maker, indirectly influenced me to become an architect.

Duane and his sisters at Lincoln Center, 1964. Photo courtesy of the Blue Spruce family.

My acutely nonurban parents fully embraced the New York experience and encouraged my sisters and me to do the same. They made sure that we appreciated every cultural landmark New York had to offer—the “new” Lincoln Center, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim, the Cloisters, Madison Square Garden, Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, the Bronx Zoo, Broadway and Times Square, Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall, the American Museum of Natural History, the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Coney Island, and the Museum of the American Indian at West 155th Street and Broadway. My parents divorced a few years later, and my father left New York in 1966. My mother, barely thirty and now a single mother, struggled, but she continued her role as her children’s ambassador to New York City. We couldn’t afford a car, so we made all of these excursions by bus, subway, and that floating New York icon, the Staten Island Ferry, which gave our trips an air of adventure.

Unfortunately, my parents’ divorce not only split up our family, it separated my sisters and me from our Pueblo heritage. We never had enough money to visit New Mexico. Our Spanish relatives came to visit, but their visits were rare. Even so, I can still remember my Grandma Martinez, in our cramped kitchen, flipping dough back and forth between her hands as she made us tortillas for breakfast. Aside from the Pueblo artwork around our apartment and stories of New Mexico from my mother, our knowledge of our Native roots was limited. Still, my sisters and I were proud of our heritage, and not just because we had the coolest last name of any of our friends. More than two decades later, I reunited with my father and other Pueblo family members, and they have bridged many of the cultural gaps that had opened over the years.

The opening of the National Museum of the American Indian–New York within the historic Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House, 1994. Photo by Krause/Johansen for NMAI.

In 1975, I was accepted into the prestigious Regis High School on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. This meant that I had to take the bus, the ferry, and the subway to get to school—an hour and twenty minutes each way, on a good day. At the tender age of fourteen, I became a seasoned New York commuter, complete with a stoic commuter face and my fingertips blackened by New York Times newsprint. One of the more intriguing parts of my daily commute was the short walk from the Whitehall Street ferry terminal to the Bowling Green subway station, when I walked past an amazing, though empty and lifeless, building—the U.S. Custom House, now home to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian–New York. Little did I know then that I would go off to Syracuse University, pursue a career in architecture and museum work in New York, Santa Fe, and Washington, D.C., and, thirty years later, wind up working in that very same Beaux Arts landmark.

Not a bad story for a Pueblo/Spanish kid who grew up on Staten Island, but it’s just one of thousands of stories of Native New Yorkers and our experiences in the city. I hope that these memories give you a sense of one Native American’s feelings for this city and for the National Museum of the American Indian here, a New York cultural institution dedicated to presenting the stories of all the Native peoples of the Western Hemisphere.

—Duane Blue Spruce (Laguna and San Juan Pueblo)
 

Duane Blue Spruce, planning coordinator at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York, is currently taking part in the Smithsonian Palmer Leadership Development Program. Photo by Cynthia Frankenburg, NMAI.

 

 

 

This essay is adapted from the foreword to Mother Earth/Father Skyline: A Souvenir Book of Native New York, edited by Duane Blue Spruce and published by the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI). The drawing of Coyote arriving in New York is from the NMAI children's book Coyote in Love with a Star, written by Marty Kreipe de Montaño (Prairie Band Potawatomi) and illustrated by Thomas W. Coffin.

 © NMAI, Smithsonian Institution.

Mother Earth in Crisis: A Moment of Reflection

In the Film and Video Center, we often find that an image is worth far more than a thousand words. And when words and images come together, they can reach the mind and touch the heart in ways that mere words never could. This is especially true when it comes to climate change.

In the spring of 2011, the Film and Video Center held its Native American Film + Video Festival, which included a special program entitled Mother Earth in Crisis. This program began with an evening screening of Inuit Knowledge and Climate Change, a film that looks at the impact of warming temperatures in the Arctic. The screening was followed by a conversation with the filmmakers, including Zacharias Kunuk (Inuit), who took part via Skype from Igloolik, Nunavut, northern Canada.

The second part of Mother Earth in Crisis was a day of films and panel discussions with a focus on rivers. Throughout the program, we saw how industrial development is endangering the Earth’s rivers and glaciers. We heard warnings from all parts of the Americas about the effects of climate change on indigenous communities, as well as calls to action to protect our Mother Earth. 

This video is a compilation of footage from both parts of Mother Earth in Crisis. We hope it will get you thinking about, and involved in, the problems facing our Mother Earth in the 21st century. Just as the festival was a hemispheric event, this video contains both English and Spanish speakers.

In Spanish and English. Use the CC button at the bottom of the video to switch between language and closed caption tracks.  

 

Keep in touch with the Film and Video Center. Follow us on    

Conservator's Challenge: Faux-Fur Trim for Athabaskan Mittens

As a graduate intern in the NMAI's conservation department, I recently had the privilege of making an unusual repair to the fur trim on a pair of Athabaskan mittens (object no. 25/5333). Gwich'in artist Leah Roberts made the mittens in Fort Yukon, Alaska, in 1983 using tanned moose hide, glass beads, beaver fur, nylon thread, and acrylic fabric and yarn. They were part of the Indian Arts and Crafts Board Collection, Department of the Interior, transferred to the NMAI collections in 2000.

The mittens were chosen for exhibition at the museum in Washington because they are a beautiful example of Athabaskan design and craftsmanship. Sadly, the fur trim was damaged by webbing clothes moth larvae, which are notorious for eating protein-based clothing like wool coats, wool sweaters, and fur. In this case, larvae had eaten right down to the skin, as you can see on the bottom of the left mitten. Areas of complete fur loss were the biggest issue in displaying the mittens, and it was my job to create a faux-fur fill that could be placed in the areas of missing fur so that museum visitors could appreciate the overall look of the mittens. In keeping with conservation practices, I used materials that have excellent aging properties and applied the fills in a manner that can be removed fairly easily, just in case that is ever necessary. 

The mittens before conservation treatment. 

I began the conservation treatment by thoroughly documenting the construction and condition of the mittens with photographs and a written report. Then I carefully removed dust and insect debris by vacuuming. In the process, I collected loose pieces of fur that were detached and scattered around the surface of the mittens.  I was able to integrate this fur into the fills that I made. 

Reducing dust and debris with a low-suction vacuum. The vacuum nozzle was custom-made with a plastic pipette.  

There wasn't enough loose beaver fur to fill all the losses, so I custom-dyed wool roving with acid dyes, mixing red, yellow, and blue dyes in an attempt to match the brown color of the beaver fur. Although my color mixtures were slightly off—one was too red, the other too green—I was successful in using wool carders to blend the dyed fibers by hand  until I had a nearly perfect match. 

Wool hand-carders at top. Custom-dyed wool on the lower right and left with blended wool (the best color match) in between. 

Following the lead of NMAI conservator Kelly McHugh, who treated a similar pair of Athabaskan mittens, I made faux-fur by attaching the wool fibers and loose pieces of beaver fur to an archival support. The technique is based on methods described by Hodson, Maile-Moskowitz, and Heald in the poster Hole-istic Compensation: Needle-felted In-fills for Losses in Wool. I used a barbed felting needle to punch the fiber ends into a nonwoven polyester fabric, turned the fabric over, and felted the fiber ends a little bit on the back to make sure that they wouldn’t fall out. Here is a video of the needle-felting process. 

This image shows my set up and me. You can see that I was felting over a piece of polyurethane foam that could withstand the vigorous punching that is part of the needle-felting process.

Rebecca Summerour, graduate intern, in the process of needle-felting faux-fur. The Athabaskan mittens being conserved are partially covered on the table. Photo by Lauren Horelick.

This is a detail image of a patch in progress. The top left edge of the patch is filled with loose beaver fur, while the bottom and right sections are sheep wool. You can see that the beaver fur looks best, but the sheep wool is a pretty good match too.

Detail of a patch in progess, with both beaver fur and wool inserted in the polyester support. 

After inserting the fiber in the polyester support, I cut the top edge of the support to the shape of the loss and attached thin strips of an archival thermoplastic adhesive to the top edge of the patch with a heated spatula. You can see the shiny adhesive strips, as well as the texture of the felted fiber ends, in this image of the reverse of one of the faux-fur patches.

Detail of the reverse of a patch. The shiny areas are the adhesive along the top edge.

I heat-set the adhesive film to the exposed leather in the mitten trim using an electric spatula on low heat. As you can see in the picture below, I introduced heat from the front and protected the fur from the spatula using a polyester barrier. The fibers needed to be fluffed a little after activating the adhesive in this way. 

Securing the fill in the loss by heat-activating the adhesive film with a warm spatula. 

In order to make the patches more easily reversible, only the top edges were attached using adhesive. I secured the bottom edges by folding them around the bottom of the cuff and stitching the support fabric along the seam between the fur cuff and yellow lining fabric. 

Securing the bottom edge of a faux-fur fill with cotton thread using a curved needle. The patch is pinned in place with thin insect pins. 

I made a total of three patches, two on the front of the mittens and one on the back. Now museum visitors can appreciate the beauty of these mittens in a state that is much closer to the way Leah Roberts intended them to look.  

Above: Details of mitten trim before (top) and after (bottom) conservation treatment.  
Below:  The conserved mittens (left) on display.

The mittens are currently on display outside the Lelawi Theater on the 4th floor of the museum on the National Mall, along with a Tlingit model totem pole, a Yup'ik mask, and three Alutiiq ceremonial paddles.

—Rebecca Summerour, NMAI conservation intern

Rebecca Summerour is a graduate student in the Art Conservation Program at SUNY Buffalo State. She is currently completing her 3rd and final year of graduate school as an intern in textile and object conservation at the NMAI.