Another Way to View Native American Art

It’s been several months since I sat down with Melanie Yazzie to talk about her lively, whimsical paintings that have layers of meaning hidden in them. Yazzie is also a printmaker, sculptor and ceramicist. I had been meaning to write an article about her for Winds, and concentrate on her painting, but the article was put on the back burner while I was dealing with health issues. Now, I feel like I can piece together an article, but thought I’d hone and share it on my blog first. 

Melanie Yazzie, who is Diné of the Salt and Bitter Water Clans, is just one of many (see Bunky Echo-Hawk’s work) Native artists who are pushing the boundaries of what people think Native art should look like. There’s a certain stereotype that many Caucasian people look for when they decide to purchase Indian art. It seems they want regalia.

Yazzie, who has traveled all over the world and collaborated with artists from Siberia, Japan, New Zealand, and dozens of other countries, is amused by the regalia thing. She says simply, “We [Native Americans] are not stagnant, and our art isn’t either. The traditional and contemporary are equally valuable. An Indian person does not have to be dressed in regalia to be Indian, nor does their artwork need to [display] regalia.”

Yazzie, who is an associate professor at the University of Colorado-Boulder, has had an interesting upbringing. She grew up on the Navajo Reservation, but she attended a Quaker boarding school in Pennsylvania. She comes from a family of teachers: her father was a school superintendent, her mother still teaches, her sister teaches at the University of Indiana-Bloomington, and her brother teaches on the Navajo reservation. 

Her parents took their children on summer trips all over the country to expose them to different cultures and people. Yet, as with all Diné people, Yazzie’s sense of place is intact. “The Diné are a matrilineal culture so we always know where we come from. When I travel overseas, I remember where I’m coming from.” This steady, feminine assurance is reflected in her paintings which emphasize women as leaders, women as source of strength. The colors, though often pastel, are emboldened by the shapes that they inhibit. The shapes vary; some are distinctly female forms, others are of animals, some skeletal stick figures that resemble pictographs, (though Yazzie says they are most definitely not) and there are a few that because of the title are easily defined. The piece entitled “Fishing With Them,” depicts a long purple fish, its bones exposed, and from where the fish tail should be, a human figure emerges. Evolution? Yazzie does not expand on scientific theories though. She says instead, “I was influenced by strong women like Rigoberta Menchu and Jaune Quick-to-See-Smith who was the first Native person to purchase one of my paintings.” 

She explains her paintings this way: “There’s always a story that goes with a piece of art that is usually profound. If you don’t understand it, educate yourself about it. The journey to understanding opens up other ways to look at things. For example, I was hit by a drunk driver and my backbone was thrown out of alignment. I was in great pain. The painting “Somehow I am Walking” reflects that time. In my paintings I insert positive life symbols. I create symbols of little spirits with a bright sense of happiness and strength. Fish play a huge role in many cultures. When I travel to other nations and we are eating fish, this represents sharing, inner strength and connectedness.” This sounds like a medicine to me.

Yazzie is equally adamant and articulate about those in power who would cut school art programs. “Art in any culture tells the story of that culture. Art is the mark of how advanced a culture is. Artists have always spoken about the currents in that society. If teaching the arts is cut off, there is something seriously wrong going on.”

Yazzie has tough questions for young people about to start their journey in studying art. These questions have to do with knowing who are as a person before you begin the creative process. Yazzie asks her students, “What are you doing in your communities? Are you reinforcing stereotypes? Are you helping others? Are you helping women and children? These are Native American cultural values. Are you educating others?”

Yazzie’s work is deceptively simple and yet it teaches the viewer to look beyond the surface and dig deeper. This is something many people, even in 2010, seem to be too lazy or are simply unwilling to do. This is a tragedy and I believe there most definitely is something “seriously wrong going on.”

The Relief of Acupuncture & Community

Those of us who struggle daily to actually feel good, go through hell just to find affordable places that will alleviate pain. I'm convinced that bringing together the knowledge of Western medicine and alternative therapies is the best way to approach a chronic illness. Unfortunately, a lot of insurance companies don't recognize therapies like acupuncture as legitimate. My insurance allows me 12 visits per year. But my feet, which suffer from dystonia, need weekly attention.

Years ago, in Lyons, I found a wonderful acupuncturist, Carol Conigliaro. I went to her every week for awhile. Carol is also schooled in Chinese herbal medicines and for years I swallowed down teas that I can only describe as tasting like mud. Eventually, I just couldn't afford her services. This was a terrible severing because she, like most holistic practitioners, really listened to me talk about everything that was going on in my life. She was interested in me as a whole person; she would even read my poetry. But of course she had to make a living too. Now, finally, there is a movement which seems to be sweeping across the country and it has actually come to the little town of Lyons. Through the efforts of Carol and her business partner, Julie Smith, a warm, open space for community acupuncture has evolved. They offer a sliding scale fee. You pay what you can.

I'm a pretty private person when it comes to bodywork. I like my private sessions and the ensuing quiet as you are being manipulated by steady, reassuring hands. I liked Carol's private home studio. I would lie on my back while the needles worked their magic and watch her mobile of cranes that hung from the ceiling above me as they swayed in imperceptible wind. I used to drift into sleep thinking it was God's breath moving those cranes. I can go back to that place any time.

But the community center has a wonderful ambience too. The space is large and delicate Japanese screens are erected all around the room, creating little, private havens. The floors are warm oak wood and you must remove your shoes when you come in. Carol greets you quietly because she is working on several people at once. At first, I thought this way of working with patients would be too harried and impossible. But Carol is in her element and she floats. I lie down and Carol looks over my chart and talks to me about my health, asks about my family, work, etc., and periodically asks me to take a breath in, then out, as the needles are inserted painfully into my ears. Acupuncture is not painful for a normal, healthy person. Most needles work painlessly along specific meridian points, but with my dystonia, they must be inserted in my ears. Once the pain is gone, I am overcome with the most peaceful sleepiness. Carol moves on to another patient and I hear her voice and the patient's voice above soft music. The music is percussion instruments: bells and Japanese taiko drums and Tibetian singing bowls.


The background talking doesn't bother me the way I thought it would. I drift in and out of a sleep so restful it feels like I'm in some alternate universe. Acupuncture always does that to me. The voices intertwine and overlap, people come and go. When Carol finally removes the needles after a much needed acupressure spinal massage, she compares the background talking to when you're lying on the beach and drifting off to sleep: there is the sound of waves and seagulls and you can hear people all around you laughing, talking, even high-pitched sounds of children screaming with delight, but it all just washes through you and is actually comforting. This is exactly the way I felt. 


This brings me full circle to the issue of private versus community services. Yes, private services have their benefits, but a community service's atmosphere under expert control can be just as lovely and even more touching. When I first arrived and Carol was checking my pulses, there was a woman a few screens away from mine. I could hear her crying softly. She wasn't sad; she wasn't in pain. She was just releasing something. It must have been happiness because I heard her make another appointment for the following week. The word community can mean many things. In this case, it reminds me of the word "grace." There was grace today all through that acupuncture session. It was gentle and restoring and it was holding me up. This is what community is for ultimately: it is there to hold you up when you most need to be held.


To find out more about Carol Conigliaro's services, visit Green Heart Institute.