Basketry is arguably humankind’s oldest art form. From time immemorial, women and men of the Americas have bent, twined and coiled root, grass and branch into superlative art. Weavers crafted more than just baskets for storing and preparing food, though—they also wove clothing, hats, baby carriers and gambling trays for daily use, gifts, ceremonies and trading.
In misguided attempts at assimilation by the dominant society, and the rush to adapt from the old barter-based economy to one backed by currency, Native basketry nearly became extinct in the early to middle 1900s. However, thanks to dedicated artisans, weaving is making a comeback; weavers’ classes, organizations and galleries support and nurture Native weavers both old and new.
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terrol dew johnson
Pushing the Basket Boundaries
Tohono O’odham weaver Terrol Dew Johnson constantly challenges his formidable talents. “From the beginning, I was willing to take risks,” says Johnson, 32.
And indeed, Johnson’s 20-year career encompasses both the timeless traditions of O’odham weaving and the cutting-edge contemporary path of 21st-century Native weavers. One of Johnson’s newest works, “Quilt Basket,” is a variation on the wall hanging he crafted for the exhibition The Language of Native American Baskets: From the Weavers’ View. The mix of bear grass, yucca and devil’s claw mats and basket trays creates an organic window into the past and future of O’odham basketry.
Johnson started weaving at age 10. “It was the only thing I was good at,” he says. “I’ve always been touchy-feely and good with my hands—I could do this with my hands, and it was fun!”
While perfecting his skills, Johnson says his parents encouraged him, especially his mother, Betty Ann Pancho. “They didn’t want their kids to be statistics on the rez. ‘When you learn [weaving], you’ll never go hungry and you’ll go places,’ my teachers told me.”
After mastering the age-old materials and techniques of O’odham weaving, Johnson stepped off the traditional path to explore new avenues and new materials. “I get bored easily,” he says. He’s updated his signature work, a large hollowed-out gourd festooned with braided bear grass, with a cast bronze gourd. He’s also weaving with wood, as well as sewing turquoise and hanging crystals on his work. “The sky is the limit!” he says.
Johnson’s work has won major honors at many shows, including the Santa Fe Indian Market, O’odham Tash, the Heard Indian Fair & Market and the Southwest Museum’s Indian Art Fair. However, he says his biggest honor doesn’t come with a ribbon. “I really like that I get to meet other artists,” he says.
In addition to his work as one of the nation’s most acclaimed Native basket weavers, Johnson labors to ensure that weaving and traditional O’odham foods will endure. In 1996, Johnson and business partner Tristan Reader founded Tohono O’odham Community Action (TOCA), a nonprofit community development organization. TOCA manages a basket weavers’ cooperative and also promotes the return to traditional foods, such as tepary beans, cholla buds and squashes. These traditional pursuits both enhance healthy lifestyles among the O’odham and provide a means for weavers and farmers to make a living wage. Johnson was named one of the top 10 young community leaders by the Do Something organization in 1999 for his work with TOCA. In 2001, TOCA won a Coming Up Taller Award from the President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities, and in 2002 Johnson and Reader received the Leadership for a Changing World Award from the Ford Foundation.
Johnson’s latest project involves using the same formula he wields to weave baskets to make buildings. “A couple of young architects approached me about working with them on an exhibit in SoHo” in New York City, says Johnson. He’s also delving into photography.
But with all the acclaim, global travel, awards and adoring fans, Johnson’s still planted firmly in his O’odham lands. “We artists are sensible people; we use our life experiences to create art. I’m also helping student weavers break out of the mold, step out and do shows and interviews, and create new designs and shapes. I like to think that I set them on that path.”
Johnson’s work can be found both at the TOCA Web site and at www.terroldewjohnson.com. He will also be selling his work at the 2006 Heard Indian Fair & Market.
theresa secord
Weaving New Life into a Dying Art
Penobscot basketmaker and arts advocate Theresa Secord never conceived she would be part of a grass-roots Native weaving renaissance. Although Secord is the great-granddaughter of acclaimed weaver Philomene Saulis Nelson, and even inherited her nearly 150-year-old hardwood basket forms and other tools of the trade, Secord didn’t plan for basketry as her life’s work.
A trained geologist, Secord returned home to Maine after a stint with Mobil Oil Corp. to manage the mineral assessment program of the newly re-acquired Penobscot and Passamaquoddy lands. In 1988, she began taking Penobscot language and weaving classes with Madeline Tomer Shay. “She was an incredible basketmaker and had worked with my great-grandmother making baskets,” says Secord. This mentorship lasted for five years, until Shay’s passing in 1993.
That same year, a group of Maine Indian artisans, including Secord, started the Maine Indian Basketmakers Alliance to preserve the weaving arts of the Wabanaki, or People of the Dawn. The intricate art of crafting brown ash and sweetgrass traditional and so-called “fancy” baskets by the Passamaquoddy, Penobscot, Maliseet and Micmac tribes verged on extinction. “There were just 55 weavers left with an average age of 63,” says Secord, 47. “Today, we have over 200 members, with an average age of 43, who share a common vision—the preservation and nurturance of basket making.” Secord is also quick to aver that she is not the “patron saint” of Maine Indian basketry. “I happen to have the skills to write grants and organize people,” says Secord, who is MIBA’s founding executive director. “I’m here to help the membership make their vision a reality.”
But in between managing MIBA’s programs, writing grants and raising her two sons, Secord finds the time to delve into her people’s ancient art. The results are nothing short of breathtaking: Collectors who are fortunate enough to own one of Secord’s exquisite corn baskets marvel at the precise placement of each kernel, dyed to mimic a real ear of multi-colored Native corn. Her large acorn baskets are simply stunning. And Secord’s large barrel baskets would make her great-grandmother proud.
In 2003, Secord became the first U.S. citizen to receive the Prize for Creativity in Rural Life, presented by the Women’s World Summit Foundation at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. Secord’s work has also garnered many ribbons, including two Best of Division awards at the Eiteljorg Museum Indian Fair & Market and an honorable mention at the 2005 Heard Indian Market. But Secord says her most important award came from her own tribe, the Penobscot Nation, which honored her in 2004.
“Basketry is the oldest art form that’s been continually practiced here,” she notes. However, she stresses that, like other Native art, basketry is evolving. “Our ancestors really got around; they exchanged styles and weaves. This is part of the modern [weaving] movement. I like to say that we have always been contemporary.” For example, Secord recently added yellow cedar to her baskets after Haida weaver Eliasica Timmerman gave her some at the 2005 Heard Indian Fair & Market. She has become interested in helping to bring back weaving with basswood fiber, which was once commonly used for carrying straps and game bags in Wabanaki territory. “It’s like ancient duct tape,” says Secord. And she’s utilizing natural dyes like blueberry in her work.
Earth scientist/artist Secord believes in the connectedness of her environment and art. In addition to organizing tribal community workshops, apprenticeships and markets through MIBA, she is also passing on her weaving skills to her sons and several nieces. Secord’s oldest son, Caleb Hoffman, won his first blue ribbon at age 13 at the 2004 Celebration of Basketry & Native Foods Festival at the Heard Museum for a near-perfect pin cushion basket. “Both Caleb and his brother Will are making baskets now,” says the proud mom.
As she continues to expand her art, Secord reflects on timeless tradition. “Our work, like our people, is rooted in the ash and coastal sweetgrass,” Secord says. “Our Creation says that from the ash came the first people singing and dancing.”
Secord sells her work exclusively at shows, including the 2006 Heard Indian Fair & Market. Details: 207/314-3120 or e-mail .
peggy sanders brennan
Keeping the Old Baskets Alive
Peggy Sanders Brennan, one of the leaders of Midwestern and Southeastern Native basketry, credits her art and connection to Cherokee culture for leading her away from overwhelming grief. “My knowledge of Cherokee basketry was my way of connecting to my past after the death of my father, Buck Sanders,” says Brennan. “After my father died, I needed a connection to him; his mother, Myrtle Monroe; and to my other Cherokee grandmothers.”
In the late 1980s, Brennan, 59, searched out her ancestry at the Cherokee Nation’s capitol in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, and at the Oklahoma Historical Society with the help of her mother and oldest sister. Through the guidance of Cherokee artist Betty (Queti) Bondy, Brennan, a member of the Wolf Clan, studied ancient Cherokee beliefs for many years. “It was during this time that I began an interest in basket weaving,” Brennan says.
After failing to locate any local Cherokee weavers, patterns or techniques, “I bought any books about basket weaving I could find,” Brennan says. She examined Southeastern Indian baskets in private and museum collections to learn how her ancestors wove Cherokee twill baskets from maple, ash and honeysuckle. And she learned how to use plants, minerals and insects to dye her basket splints.
Then one day Brennan met master Cherokee basket weaver Mavis Doering, who taught her how to weave the Cherokee wicker plaited double-wall basket. Brennan learned how to gather and process river cane from artists Robin McBride Scott of Indiana and Roger and Shawna Cain of Oklahoma. And Michigan weaver Jackie Carlson, author of Flowing Water, which details the Cherokee double-weave technique, helped Brennan master the river cane double-weave basket.
Brennan says that the significance of the various symbols on Cherokee baskets relates to her people’s spirituality. “The clan symbols woven into mats and baskets identified who we were,” she says. ”When we attended a council meeting, our mat with the clan symbols hung above us and we sat on a mat with our symbols.” These symbols, which derive from both natural objects and religious worship, form the basketry, beadwork and finger-weaving patterns that journeyed to Oklahoma along the Trail of Tears with their creators. “By keeping the designs alive in our baskets,” she says, “we are remembering our past.”
Brennan’s desire to preserve the ancients’ patterns was bolstered by a First Place ribbon in the 1993 exhibit The Fire Takers: A Cherokee Homecoming Art Show at the Cherokee National Museum in Tahlequah for a traditionally woven and dyed oak plaited twill basket. Among her other awards, Brennan treasures her Judges’ Choice ribbon at the 2000 Heard Museum Indian Market for a basket tray.
Two of Brennan’s baskets were included in the traveling exhibit By Their Works You Shall Know Them, running from 1994 to 1996. This exhibit depicted the effects on Southeastern Indian basketry of the forced removal of Natives to Oklahoma. She was also an artist in residence at the Eiteljorg Museum in connection with the Philbrook Museum of Art’s world-renowned Clark Field Collection in 1999.
The lady who once taught herself weaving now shares her hard-won skill with others, including many family members. “I hope to continue to honor my teachers by passing on the art of Cherokee basketry,” Brennan says. “Teaching Native basketry is now more important to me than actually weaving baskets.” In 2001, Brennan started a small basketweaving circle to teach Native basketry, which grew into the Oklahoma Native American Basketweavers Association, with the assistance of former California Indian Basketweavers Association director Sara Greensfelder.
Brennan says of her students, “What I hope they remember is that their past is as important as their future and what they do now affects seven generations to come.”
Brennan’s work can be found on her Web site and at many Indian museum gift shops, including White River Trader at the Eiteljorg Museum and the Cherokee Heritage Center in Tahlequah. She also sells at shows, including the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair & Market. Details: www.cherokeebaskets.com.
annie antone
Decorative Design and Pattern Innovator
Tohono O’odham weaver Annie Antone of Arizona has pushed the envelope of design and form for three decades; indeed, she has blasted the envelope wide open. Antone, 50, wields ancient technique and traditional materials to craft ever more daring and experimental designs. “It’s hard to describe what I do,” Antone says.
One of her better-known baskets sports an image of a semi tractor trailer rig, a design request from a friend. “She was dating a truck driver,” says Antone, who takes commissions if the idea intrigues her. Another singular Antone piece sprang from a maze—but not from the traditional O’odham “Man in the Maze.” Instead, this basket is based on a maze built near a church in France, inspired by a man who built a similar people-sized course.
Then there’s her musical basket. Antone decided to weave a merry tune around the traditional flute player. After finding a song in a piano practice book, Antone added flags to the notes to make a nicer pattern, which inadvertently altered the melody. “A lady stopped by as I was making the basket,” says Antone. “‘You changed everything!’ the lady said. But she showed me how to change it and make the notes right.” Indeed, Antone avers that many baskets are collaborations with customers, and even strangers. “Along the way, somebody will come along and help me. I will never know their names, but they give me ideas and advice,” she says.
After the idea comes the execution. Antone begins each piece with a careful sketch of the pattern; each stitch is graphed on paper. Sometimes, an artist friend helps with difficult sketches.
Antone didn’t begin her career intending to engage in such audacious exploits. She didn’t even learn to weave until 19. “I only did it to see if I could do it,” she says. She sold her first basket to a trading post for $10 and gave the money to her mother, weaver Irene Antone, “in hopes I would become just as good a weaver as my mom.” After a four-year break to attend school and work a “normal” job, Antone returned to weaving for good. After mastering more traditional designs, Antone struck out toward new horizons; her first foray into the unusual involved Norwegian knitting patterns. After winning her first two ribbons at the Gallup Ceremonial in New Mexico in 1985 and the O’odham Tash Rodeo and Fair in Arizona in 1986, she was hooked. “It was fun to win that first ribbon,” she says. “It became a challenge to get more.”
Then one day, Antone discovered a book about Hohokam pottery while volunteering at the information center and museum in her hometown of Gila Bend, Arizona. “I started sketching patterns I found in pictures of shards from the book,” Antone relates. One shard particularly piqued her interest: a snake surrounded by birds. “I really don’t like to do snakes,” she says, “but I kept running across it and decided to try it.”
Her first effort featured a black snake and red birds, which she took to O’odham Tash. However, Antone’s second snake basket, with a red snake and black birds, won her the coveted Best of Show at the 1999 Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair & Market. It’s Antone’s most prized award. She has since demonstrated at the Heard, the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, the Albuquerque Museum of Art and History, the Wheelwright Museum in Santa Fe, the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody, Wyoming, and at the British Museum, collecting many more ribbons along the way.
The Smithsonian demonstration resulted from an invitation by curator Aleta Ringlero after she spied Antone’s curious baskets at the Santa Fe Indian Market in 1991. The basket Antone created during her tenure as an artist-in-residence in 1992 and 1993 at the Smithsonian was purchased for its permanent collection.
“Right now, I’m at a point where I’m doing stuff just for me,” she says. “When I hit the half-century mark, I decided that I just want to see if I can make what’s in my head come out in a basket, the ones I’ve been putting off for later.” So continue to expect the unexpected from this talented weaver.
Antone sells her work from home, at the Information Center in Gila Bend on weekends, and at various shows, including the annual Heard Indian Fair & Market. Details: 928/683-6429.
Debra Utacia Krol (Salinan/Esselen), Native Peoples’ book editor, also appreciates great basketry; she is the proud owner of a Caleb Hoffman pin cushion basket and is always looking for great things from the 13-year-old.
