"Things are Looking Native"

Nicholas Galanin is a multi-disciplinary artist and musician of mixed Tlingit/Aleut and non-Native ancestry. His work often explores a dialogue of change and identity between Native and non-Native communities. Born in Sitka, Alaska, Galanin first learned to work with jewelry and light metals, apprenticing with his father. He received a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Design and Silversmithing at London Guildhall University in England, and a Masters of Fine Arts in indigenous visual arts at Massey University in New Zealand. Being trained in both traditional and contemporary approaches in art, he pursues and merges both, exploring the questions of identity, misinterpretation and cultural appropriation.
 

Things are Looking Native, Native's Looking Whiter was the centerpiece of "Unsettled," a 2012 exhibit hosted by the Nevada Museum of Art. It is a digital print that bisects and combines two photographs. On the left is a 1906 Edward S. Curtis image entitled "Tewa Girl," a photograph of an unnamed Hopi-Tewa girl with a traditional "squash blossom" or "butterfly whorl" hairstyle. The right half of the photo-montage depicts Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia from the 1977 film Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope with her classic "cinnamon roll" hair style. Galanin's piece is intended as a commentary on cultural appropriation in popular media, which is largely dominated by white actors and directors.
 

Edward S. Curtis's great body of work, while beautifully executed artistically and doubtlessly valuable, has often been criticized. Curtis presented himself as a scientist as well as the artist, documenting the real Indians of North America in their environment. However, by the time Curtis took his first photograph in the 1890s, the noble savage he presented to the public no longer existed. He has also been known to stage his images to look more Native at the time, for example removing or retouching contemporary items in his photos. Each of the images used for Galanin's art piece represent different aspects of cultural appropriation. One--the desire to depict it in an unchanging, romanticized way as a vanishing race; the other--blatantly reusing a piece of cultural heritage while disposing of all Native elements of it.

"Angakusajaujuq: The Shaman's Apprentice"

In the 1980s, an Inuit elder told Nunavut Canadian filmmaker Zacharias Kunuk a story about a young female apprentice who was learning shamanism from her grandmother. In the story, a sick man breaks a taboo and needs to be healed by a shaman. The young woman and her grandmother travel to the underworld, or "the one below," to find the answers to the man's sickness. The shaman-in-training discovers she must believe the teachings of her grandmother and mentor and to control her fears while encountering challenges and dark spirits. Three years ago, the acclaimed Inuit filmmaker began turning the story into a 20-minute animated film, which was named the Best Canadian Short at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2021. Members of the awards jury at this year’s event released the following statement: 

 

"Zacharias Kunuk's Angakusajaujuq: The Shaman's Apprentice is an enthralling stop-motion that encapsulates an array of textures, sound, and nuanced expressions that collectively invite you into the apprentice's journey in learning traditional knowledge and caring for community while confronting your own fears. You can't help but feel the questions asked of the apprentice are for us all to consider: Who are you? What have you learned?"

 

Kunuk took the world by storm in 2001 when Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner had its world premiere at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival. The film, which won the Golden Camera Award at Cannes, was the first Canadian dramatic feature film ever to be written, directed and acted entirely in the Inuktitut language. Set in the ancient past, the film retells an Inuit legend passed down through centuries of oral tradition. It revolves around the title character, whose marriage with his two wives earns him the animosity of the son of the band leader, who kills Atanarjuat's brother and forces Atanarjuat to flee by foot. 

 

Zacharias Kunuk says his latest film project aims to reclaim Inuit pre-Christian spirituality while experimenting with a different form of storytelling--animation. It illustrates a part of Inuit culture that was "hidden" by colonialism, he said. "I see this short film simply as a tool to start talking about shamanism again, to invite Inuit, especially children and younger generations, to be proud of our rich spiritual traditions and feel comfortable to explore and ask questions about shamanism."

 

Kunuk says he has no plans to stop making films, even though he’s now in his 60s. He continues documenting Elders' stories today. He's been recording interviews with Iglulik Elders who reflect on oral teachings they received prior to colonization. He plans to expand that effort to other communities in the future. "That's what I love to do," he said. "I love to interview Elders because all their knowledge is in their heads."

Contemporary Korean Shamanism

While traditional shamanism continues to decline around the world, it is currently undergoing a revival in South Korea. Korean shamanism, also known as Muism ("mu [shaman] religion") is the ethnic religion of Korea and the Koreans. Though Korean shamanism has suffered centuries of ridicule and persecution, it is now acknowledged to be an important repository of Korean culture and indigenous psychology. Shamanism, in modern as well as historical eras, provides many of the same functions for Korean society as does psychological counseling. Its form is flexible and adaptable, integrating modern elements as needed in order to maintain its relevance.
 

Once viewed as an embarrassing superstition, the theatrical religious performances of Korean shamans--who communicate with the dead, divine the future, and become possessed--are going mainstream. Attitudes toward Korean shamanism are changing as shamanic traditions appear in staged rituals, museums, films, and television programs, as well as on the internet.
 

Contemporary Korean Shamanism, a new book by professor Liora Sarfati, explores this vernacular religion and practice, which includes sensory rituals using laden altars, ecstatic dance, and animal sacrifice, within South Korea's highly technologized society, where over 200,000 shamans are listed in professional organizations. Dr. Sarfati reveals how representations of shamanism in national, commercialized, and screen-mediated settings have transformed opinions of these religious practitioners and their rituals.
 

Applying ethnography and folklore research, Contemporary Korean Shamanism: From Ritual to Digital maps this shift in perception about shamanism--from a sign of a backward, undeveloped Korea to a valuable, indigenous cultural asset. Professor Sarfati masterfully demonstrates how and why shamanism in contemporary Korea is not only the most widely dispersed religion, even more widespread than Christianity and Buddhism, but also thrives through the virtual media of a digital society.

Hopi Elder Thomas Banyacya

I had the opportunity to meet Hopi elder and activist Thomas Banyacya in 1990 when he gave a talk at Central Oregon Community College in Bend, Oregon. Thomas Banyacya was one of four Hopis (the others were David Monongye, Dan Evehema and Dan Katchongva) who were named by elders to reveal Hopi traditional wisdom and teachings, including the Hopi prophecies for the future, to the general public after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan. He spent half a century on a tireless and often thankless Hopi spiritual mission to save the planet from the ravages of modern materialism and greed. He was so steadfast in his devotion to the pacifism, traditions and sovereignty of the Hopi that he spent seven years in jail rather than register for the draft in World War II.  

 

Banyacya told the attendees that the Native peoples of this land were put here by the Creator with instructions to keep this land clean through prayer, meditation, ceremonies and fasting. They believe there is a spirit in every living thing around us, and a spirit in people that makes us choose what to do and correct ourselves when we err. At the present time, much human effort and mineral resources go towards making weaponry, and so nature is turning against us with extreme weather, volcanoes and big winds. These things, he said, are related to the present behavior of mankind. The Hopi elders warned that the white brother might turn away from spiritual ways and use his inventions destructively. We are in a most dangerous period, and prayer and meditation are needed. 
 

At one point, Banyacya showed a painting of a petroglyph known as Prophecy Rock near the Hopi village of Oraibi, explaining the meaning of certain features. One line leading upwards represented an all out materialistic path with success in inventions that could easily lead to self-destruction. Another line represented an alternative spiritual path with a possibility of cleaning up our mess without annihilation. Banyacya said that someday many nations would come together, we would realize the error of our ways, and people would start creating better feeling and harmony and clean up the mess without starting World War III.
 

Hearing Banyacya's message was truly a blessing and an honor. His strong stance on environmentalism, his service to communities and  nations, and his reverence for the traditions and teachings of his people were an inspiration. His words and passion inspired my own activism in environmentalism, Indigenous rights and the ongoing peace movement. Banyacya passed away in 1999 at the age of 89. His message seems very relevant in this time of global crisis.