In times of pandemic, climate crisis, and ongoing assaults to human rights, how are Indigenous Alaska artists today strengthening self and community, and guiding the next generation from surviving to thriving? Protection: Adaptation and Resistance centers Indigenous ways of knowing. Working within intergenerational learning groups and as collaborators in vibrant community networks, Alaska’s Indigenous artists are invigorating traditional stories in customary arts and proposing resilient futures through design, tattoo, regalia and graphic arts. Artist projects elevate collaboration, allyship, and community as tools of resistance, adaptation, and cultural affirmation. The exhibition explores three themes: Land and Culture Protectors, Activists for Justice and Sovereignty and Resilient Futures.
Protection: Adaptation & Resistance featured 52 artists and 16 projects. Images of projects are featured here, with artwork titles and statements following.
exhibition tour schedule, 2022-2024
Pratt Museum, Homer, Alaska, June 19-September 27, 2022
The Anchorage Museum, Anchorage, Alaska, October 19-April 4, 2023
Native Arts and Cultures Foundation, Portland, Oregon May 19 - August 5, 2023
Living Arts of Tulsa, Tulsa, Oklahoma, September 1 - October 31, 2023
Museum of International Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico 12/3/23-4/7/24
Alaska State Museum, Juneau, Alaska, May to early October, 2024.
This tour was made possible with generous support from Alaska Community Foundation, Alaska State Council on the Arts, Atwood Foundation, Bunnell Street Arts Center, National Endowment for the Arts, Rasmuson Foundation, The CIRI Foundation: A Journey to What Matters.
Protection: Adaptation & Resistance featured 52 artists and 16 projects. Images of projects are featured here, with artwork titles and statements following.
exhibition tour schedule, 2022-2024
Pratt Museum, Homer, Alaska, June 19-September 27, 2022
The Anchorage Museum, Anchorage, Alaska, October 19-April 4, 2023
Native Arts and Cultures Foundation, Portland, Oregon May 19 - August 5, 2023
Living Arts of Tulsa, Tulsa, Oklahoma, September 1 - October 31, 2023
Museum of International Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico 12/3/23-4/7/24
Alaska State Museum, Juneau, Alaska, May to early October, 2024.
This tour was made possible with generous support from Alaska Community Foundation, Alaska State Council on the Arts, Atwood Foundation, Bunnell Street Arts Center, National Endowment for the Arts, Rasmuson Foundation, The CIRI Foundation: A Journey to What Matters.
image above:
Kaxátjaashaa X’óow / Herring Protectors
K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady, Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger, Carol Hughey with Amy Milsaps, Kylie Maxwell, Randy Hughey, Cheryl Vastola, VIcki Swanson, Sarah Ferrency, Beth Kindig, Lakota Harden and Anna Laffrey.
Five robes are made of 15 yards of 100% wool felt, 20 yards of silk Japanese, WW2 parachute cloth, donated by a Sitkan family, 11 yards of metallic lame’ fabrics, 260 Japaneses WW2 era shell pearl buttons to represent eggs , 377 akoya shell buttons, 12 abalone buttons, 319 dimes drilled and shaped into buttons, 30 yards of fusible, 20 yards of rayon petersham ribbon. 2021
photo by Caitlin Blaisdell
“The herring, which mean so much to our culture and our ecosystem, are being depleted all for what? Money? Greed? Without herring there is nothing supporting the ocean. The whales. The salmon. Without herring, there is nothing supporting us.”
– K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady
“The herring school design unites the five robes in a double helical pattern of DNA, because our identity and survival is bound to the herring and we are stronger together.” – Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger
Lingít dance robes tell the story of Kaxátjaashaa, the Herring Rock Woman, who was the first to call the Yaaw, the herring to Sheet’ká Kwáan. She sang to the herring until they schooled and laid eggs in her hair.
K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady is Kiks.ádi, a Raven clan elder and activist from Sheet’ká Kwáan. She commissioned Lingít artist Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger and ally Carol Hughey to create five dance robes to be presented at the April 2021 Herring Gathering in Sitka. Kiks.ádi collection of at.óow celebrates the herring, demonstrates their importance in the ongoing life of the Lingít and the entire ecosystem, and protests strongly against the destructive herring sac-roe fishery. The Kiks.adí maintain a sovereign Lingít relationship to the land and waters by celebrating the Yaaw in ceremony featuring the dance robes. The Formline herring design was created by Kitkun/Charlie Skultka Jr. and given to The Herring Protectors.
Tlingit and Haida Cedarbark Hats
Kun a goo Linda Starbard, Kashagoon Nathan Starbard, Guultlagaay Donna Rae James, Gordon James Junior, G_ut dlayas Devin Hannon and Hiilei James. 2020-22
“Hat making is what we do. It’s generational, handed down through my family. It is how we celebrate and perpetuate our culture. There are 21 ways to finish hats. When somebody shows us something new we always thank them for sharing their knowledge. This is how our culture survives and thrives.”
Tlingit artist Kun a goo Linda Starbard is excited about innovations in learning and teaching online brought about by the pandemic. She was in high school when she started learning to weave from her aunt, Tlingit master weaver, Salina Peratrovich. Her cousin, artist Guultlagaay Donna Rae James, who is both Tlingit and Haida, learned from their cousin, Tlingit master weaver, Salina’s daughter, Dolores Churchill. Kun a goo learned to make hats from her brother four years ago, and then she taught her son Kashagoon, her great-nephew, G_ut dlayas Devin Hannon and, her great-niece Hiilei James. She is committed to nurturing the next generation of hat makers in her family. She says, “You have to continually share your knowledge so others will know. My parents’ generation was punished for learning their culture. I don’t want the knowledge to die with me.”
Kaxátjaashaa X’óow / Herring Protectors
K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady, Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger, Carol Hughey with Amy Milsaps, Kylie Maxwell, Randy Hughey, Cheryl Vastola, VIcki Swanson, Sarah Ferrency, Beth Kindig, Lakota Harden and Anna Laffrey.
Five robes are made of 15 yards of 100% wool felt, 20 yards of silk Japanese, WW2 parachute cloth, donated by a Sitkan family, 11 yards of metallic lame’ fabrics, 260 Japaneses WW2 era shell pearl buttons to represent eggs , 377 akoya shell buttons, 12 abalone buttons, 319 dimes drilled and shaped into buttons, 30 yards of fusible, 20 yards of rayon petersham ribbon. 2021
photo by Caitlin Blaisdell
“The herring, which mean so much to our culture and our ecosystem, are being depleted all for what? Money? Greed? Without herring there is nothing supporting the ocean. The whales. The salmon. Without herring, there is nothing supporting us.”
– K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady
“The herring school design unites the five robes in a double helical pattern of DNA, because our identity and survival is bound to the herring and we are stronger together.” – Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger
Lingít dance robes tell the story of Kaxátjaashaa, the Herring Rock Woman, who was the first to call the Yaaw, the herring to Sheet’ká Kwáan. She sang to the herring until they schooled and laid eggs in her hair.
K’asheechtlaa/Louise Brady is Kiks.ádi, a Raven clan elder and activist from Sheet’ká Kwáan. She commissioned Lingít artist Káakaxaawulga/Jennifer Younger and ally Carol Hughey to create five dance robes to be presented at the April 2021 Herring Gathering in Sitka. Kiks.ádi collection of at.óow celebrates the herring, demonstrates their importance in the ongoing life of the Lingít and the entire ecosystem, and protests strongly against the destructive herring sac-roe fishery. The Kiks.adí maintain a sovereign Lingít relationship to the land and waters by celebrating the Yaaw in ceremony featuring the dance robes. The Formline herring design was created by Kitkun/Charlie Skultka Jr. and given to The Herring Protectors.
Tlingit and Haida Cedarbark Hats
Kun a goo Linda Starbard, Kashagoon Nathan Starbard, Guultlagaay Donna Rae James, Gordon James Junior, G_ut dlayas Devin Hannon and Hiilei James. 2020-22
“Hat making is what we do. It’s generational, handed down through my family. It is how we celebrate and perpetuate our culture. There are 21 ways to finish hats. When somebody shows us something new we always thank them for sharing their knowledge. This is how our culture survives and thrives.”
Tlingit artist Kun a goo Linda Starbard is excited about innovations in learning and teaching online brought about by the pandemic. She was in high school when she started learning to weave from her aunt, Tlingit master weaver, Salina Peratrovich. Her cousin, artist Guultlagaay Donna Rae James, who is both Tlingit and Haida, learned from their cousin, Tlingit master weaver, Salina’s daughter, Dolores Churchill. Kun a goo learned to make hats from her brother four years ago, and then she taught her son Kashagoon, her great-nephew, G_ut dlayas Devin Hannon and, her great-niece Hiilei James. She is committed to nurturing the next generation of hat makers in her family. She says, “You have to continually share your knowledge so others will know. My parents’ generation was punished for learning their culture. I don’t want the knowledge to die with me.”
Chilkat Protector Masks
Sydney Akagi, Davina Drones Cole, Michelle Demmert, Shaadootlaa Gunaaxookwaan Hanlon, Lily Hope, Donnedin Jackson, Rae Mills, Debra O’Gara, Laine Rhinehart, Nila Rhinehart, Gabriella and George Shegn, and Jodi Watts.
Thigh spun, hand-dyed merino wool wool and cedar bark. photo by Sydney Akagi.
2020
“We focus on the good of the whole community, not for the individual. We collaboratively hunt, fish, share harvests, raise children, and protect our elders. We rely on each other and we must work together. We take care of each other. For survival. For the wellbeing of all. “ -- Lily Hope
Early in the pandemic, First American Art Magazine issued a national invitation for Indigenous artists to create face masks, similar to those worn to prevent the spread of COVID-19. Juneau-based Lingít weaver Lily Hope created her first Chilkat Protector mask in April 2019 in response to the call. Hope’s merino wool and cedar bark facemasks draw inspiration from her weaving teachers, her late mother Clarissa Rizal and Kay Parker. Hope is committed to training the next generation of weavers. During the pandemic, she engaged a new cohort of twelve Indigenous artist-learners to twine Chilkat masks in online workshops.
These are works of art for survival, says Hope: “When the person goes out, if they are a carrier, they are essentially protecting their whole community from being sick (by wearing a mask), and that’s foundational to the Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian peoples. My aunt says it best: ‘The mask serves to record that we took care of each other during this time.'”
Sydney Akagi, Davina Drones Cole, Michelle Demmert, Shaadootlaa Gunaaxookwaan Hanlon, Lily Hope, Donnedin Jackson, Rae Mills, Debra O’Gara, Laine Rhinehart, Nila Rhinehart, Gabriella and George Shegn, and Jodi Watts.
Thigh spun, hand-dyed merino wool wool and cedar bark. photo by Sydney Akagi.
2020
“We focus on the good of the whole community, not for the individual. We collaboratively hunt, fish, share harvests, raise children, and protect our elders. We rely on each other and we must work together. We take care of each other. For survival. For the wellbeing of all. “ -- Lily Hope
Early in the pandemic, First American Art Magazine issued a national invitation for Indigenous artists to create face masks, similar to those worn to prevent the spread of COVID-19. Juneau-based Lingít weaver Lily Hope created her first Chilkat Protector mask in April 2019 in response to the call. Hope’s merino wool and cedar bark facemasks draw inspiration from her weaving teachers, her late mother Clarissa Rizal and Kay Parker. Hope is committed to training the next generation of weavers. During the pandemic, she engaged a new cohort of twelve Indigenous artist-learners to twine Chilkat masks in online workshops.
These are works of art for survival, says Hope: “When the person goes out, if they are a carrier, they are essentially protecting their whole community from being sick (by wearing a mask), and that’s foundational to the Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian peoples. My aunt says it best: ‘The mask serves to record that we took care of each other during this time.'”
Joel Isaak with Ghelche' ehi at the Anchorage Museum, October, 2023
Ghelch'ehi “one that is folded”
Joel Isaak and Helen McLean
birch bark baskets
2019
“Birch bark protects the tree and wraps itself around us as well. For centuries, Dena’ina have lived inside the protective skin of birch[. Our work in practicing the customary arts of birch bark demonstrates how the land protects and provides for us. We have to adapt to get access to and protect the land that provides for all of us. Birch are living sentinels of Dena’ina resilience today” – Joel Isaak .
Harvesting birch bark from urban construction sites in Alaska with her student, Joel Isaak, Dena’ina elder Helen McLean teaches ways birch and survival are intertwined in Dena’ina culture. McLean learned these skills from her grandparents in Lime Village, a very remote part of Dena’ina country. Her parents sent her to live in the village during the time when Indigenous children were being rounded up by the US Government and set away to boarding schools. She has been teaching Isaak how to use birch bark for basket-making and food storage as well as its uses for boat and house-building, fuel for cooking, and as a material for cradling and protecting newborn children through the creation of baby carriers.
Ghelch'ehi “one that is folded”
Joel Isaak and Helen McLean
birch bark baskets
2019
“Birch bark protects the tree and wraps itself around us as well. For centuries, Dena’ina have lived inside the protective skin of birch[. Our work in practicing the customary arts of birch bark demonstrates how the land protects and provides for us. We have to adapt to get access to and protect the land that provides for all of us. Birch are living sentinels of Dena’ina resilience today” – Joel Isaak .
Harvesting birch bark from urban construction sites in Alaska with her student, Joel Isaak, Dena’ina elder Helen McLean teaches ways birch and survival are intertwined in Dena’ina culture. McLean learned these skills from her grandparents in Lime Village, a very remote part of Dena’ina country. Her parents sent her to live in the village during the time when Indigenous children were being rounded up by the US Government and set away to boarding schools. She has been teaching Isaak how to use birch bark for basket-making and food storage as well as its uses for boat and house-building, fuel for cooking, and as a material for cradling and protecting newborn children through the creation of baby carriers.
Quilliq
Marjorie Kunaq Tahbone, Hanna Sholl, Elli Aqugaq Tansy, Britt’Nee Kivliqtaruq Brower and Qataliña Jackie Schaeffer
Soapstone
2019-2021
“It is very exciting to see the fire of the qulliq burn again and to see our ancestors dance with the flames.” –Kunaq Tahbone
Since time immemorial, through long winter days and nights, the light of the qulliq/seal oil lamp, illuminated homes of the Iñupiat people. This lamp is used for light, heat, cooking and shadow-puppet storytelling. The soot it creates is used in Kakiñiit (traditional tattoos). Iñupiaq/Kiowa artist Kunaq Tahbone, from Nome, began creating quilliq and learning how to use them in 2010. During the pandemic, while working for her Masters’ degree in Indigenous Studies focusing on Traditional Inupiaq Tattooing and Ceremony, Kunaq taught Indigenous artist-learners across Alaska how to carve their own quilliq. She said, “Each carver created their own designs that resonated where their ancestors came from and deeply thought about what the purpose of the qulliq was for themselves.”
Thirteen-year-old Elli Tansy (Tlingit/Ahtna Athabascan/Choctaw/Rose Bud Sioux), whose Iñupiaq name is Aqugaq, is a subsistence hunter/fisher/gatherer from Cantwell? She uses all the materials available to create art, purposefully. She says, “to completely respect the seal's life by using all parts of the blessing which includes the seal oil that fuels the quilliq.”
Britt’Nee Kivliqtaruq Brower (Iñupiaq), raised in Utqiaġvik, Alaska, advocates for cultural revitalization through her artwork. She created Ukpik (snowy owl) Quilliq for protection. She states, “When a snowy owl is seen, it can represent one of our ancestors watching over us, providing guidance and protection.”
Hanna Sholl, whose Alutiiq name is Agasuuq, meaning cormorant, was born in Kodiak. Dedicated to learning and teaching Alutiiq art and culture, she creates and shares customary art as a form of healing. “I am choosing to walk with 7,500 years’ worth of ancestors walking beside me, guiding me.”
Installation view of The Memorial Qaspeq at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, December, 2024
The Memorial Qaspeq
Amber Webb
Ink on cotton muslin
2018-2022
“The main inspiration for the Memorial Qaspeq was the disappearance of Val Sifsof in july of 2012 from Granite Creek campground. She was a family friend. It was also the awareness of the pattern of deaths and disappearances that I didn’t hear people talking about but that I’d been aware of since I was about 8 years old. They are our relatives[FD9] .” --Amber Webb
Yup’ik artist Amber Webb created a giant qaspeq by hand-sewing bedsheets and adorning the garment with the portraits of over two hundred Indigenous women who have been missing and murdered Indigenous in Alaska since 1950. Webb makes visible the grief that’s held within Native communities and the advocacy work happening across North America. The project has been featured in Alaska news media, and was presented before the Alaska Legislature for HR10 in support of Savanna’s Act. The bill directs the Department of Justice to review, revise, and develop law enforcement and justice protocols to address missing or murdered Native American women and to report statistics on missing or murdered Native Americans. Webb feels that the project has its own energy and that her job is to facilitate its movement and open conversations about the root causes of violence. The project, she says, “is also about healing myself and sparking healing for all Native women.”
The Memorial Qaspeq
Amber Webb
Ink on cotton muslin
2018-2022
“The main inspiration for the Memorial Qaspeq was the disappearance of Val Sifsof in july of 2012 from Granite Creek campground. She was a family friend. It was also the awareness of the pattern of deaths and disappearances that I didn’t hear people talking about but that I’d been aware of since I was about 8 years old. They are our relatives[FD9] .” --Amber Webb
Yup’ik artist Amber Webb created a giant qaspeq by hand-sewing bedsheets and adorning the garment with the portraits of over two hundred Indigenous women who have been missing and murdered Indigenous in Alaska since 1950. Webb makes visible the grief that’s held within Native communities and the advocacy work happening across North America. The project has been featured in Alaska news media, and was presented before the Alaska Legislature for HR10 in support of Savanna’s Act. The bill directs the Department of Justice to review, revise, and develop law enforcement and justice protocols to address missing or murdered Native American women and to report statistics on missing or murdered Native Americans. Webb feels that the project has its own energy and that her job is to facilitate its movement and open conversations about the root causes of violence. The project, she says, “is also about healing myself and sparking healing for all Native women.”
installation view of Healing Stitches at Tulsa Living Arts, September, 2023
Healing Stitches
atikluk (Iñupiaq) / qaspeq (Yup’ik)
Bobby Itta Brower, Melissa Ingersoll, Cassandra Tikasuk Johnson, Qataliña Jackie Schaeffer
and Beverly Tuck
Cotton and polyester
2021
“I feel as if my sister is with me, when I look at the red atikluk I made. My daughter's friend has been missing for two months. My daughter is 17, and this disappearance brings back all the trauma I'm still feeling since my sister was missing. Where are the Amber alerts for us? When it comes to being Alaska Native almost nobody cares except for us ." – Bobby Brower
Iñupiaq artist Bobby Brower invited Indigenous women from across Alaska to sew atikluk in memory of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. Her sewing class on Zoom was a space for and learning methods of constructing the traditional garment.
Beverly Tuck, Unangax̂, an enrolled member of the Aleut Community of St. Paul Island, Alaska, now living in New Jersey, reflected on the gender-based violence experienced by people in her family and community as she sewed a child-sized atikluk. She said, “I created this atikluk/qaspeg in memory of a mother and child from St. Paul Island, Memory eternal Lynnette and Baby John.”
Cassandra Tikasuk Johnson, an Inuit woman who grew up on the sandbars of the Unalakleet river, in Unalakleet, Alaska, made a jacket of scraps from several different coats in memory of her cousin Sonya which included, ”so many different coats because one style wasn’t enough… she deserved so much more life and memories than she got… I wanted it to be warm. I have bad dreams about Sonya being left outside and cold and needing protection.”
Melissa Ingersoll. granddaughter of Tommy Teayoumeak of Shishmaref and Grace Teayoumeak of Tin City said, “of seven of my grandparent's daughters, two of them were brutally murdered. I have witnessed my own mother suffer from domestic violence when I was a baby.” She adds, “And I am proud of her for removing us from that and for getting sober.“
Qataliña Jackie Schaeffer, an Iñupiaq woman from Kotzebue says, “Each cut, stitch and fold of the red fabric carries the pain and loss, but also love and prayers are woven into the outcome… May the spirits of our sisters fly and may we never stop honoring and acknowledging them in all we do.”
Healing Stitches
atikluk (Iñupiaq) / qaspeq (Yup’ik)
Bobby Itta Brower, Melissa Ingersoll, Cassandra Tikasuk Johnson, Qataliña Jackie Schaeffer
and Beverly Tuck
Cotton and polyester
2021
“I feel as if my sister is with me, when I look at the red atikluk I made. My daughter's friend has been missing for two months. My daughter is 17, and this disappearance brings back all the trauma I'm still feeling since my sister was missing. Where are the Amber alerts for us? When it comes to being Alaska Native almost nobody cares except for us ." – Bobby Brower
Iñupiaq artist Bobby Brower invited Indigenous women from across Alaska to sew atikluk in memory of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. Her sewing class on Zoom was a space for and learning methods of constructing the traditional garment.
Beverly Tuck, Unangax̂, an enrolled member of the Aleut Community of St. Paul Island, Alaska, now living in New Jersey, reflected on the gender-based violence experienced by people in her family and community as she sewed a child-sized atikluk. She said, “I created this atikluk/qaspeg in memory of a mother and child from St. Paul Island, Memory eternal Lynnette and Baby John.”
Cassandra Tikasuk Johnson, an Inuit woman who grew up on the sandbars of the Unalakleet river, in Unalakleet, Alaska, made a jacket of scraps from several different coats in memory of her cousin Sonya which included, ”so many different coats because one style wasn’t enough… she deserved so much more life and memories than she got… I wanted it to be warm. I have bad dreams about Sonya being left outside and cold and needing protection.”
Melissa Ingersoll. granddaughter of Tommy Teayoumeak of Shishmaref and Grace Teayoumeak of Tin City said, “of seven of my grandparent's daughters, two of them were brutally murdered. I have witnessed my own mother suffer from domestic violence when I was a baby.” She adds, “And I am proud of her for removing us from that and for getting sober.“
Qataliña Jackie Schaeffer, an Iñupiaq woman from Kotzebue says, “Each cut, stitch and fold of the red fabric carries the pain and loss, but also love and prayers are woven into the outcome… May the spirits of our sisters fly and may we never stop honoring and acknowledging them in all we do.”
Curator talk at the opening talk and reception for Decolonizing Alaska at MOIFA in Santa Fe featured images of Sarah Whalen Lunn's artwork
No More Stolen Sisters, Solidarity, Black Lives Matter
Sarah Whalen Lunn
Digital illustrations on metal
2020
“These drawings are about standing together, with our Afro-Indigenous sisters. As an Iñupiat artist and mother of three girls, I give voice to the Indigenous female experience as I know it. I push myself to talk about the harder subjects of mental and emotional trauma, abuse and activism. We are fighting a lot of the same systems.” –Sarah Whalen Lunn
Iñupiaq artist Sarah Whalen Lunn draws the dark hair of an Indigenous woman and a Black woman flowing together into one thick, strong braid. Connection and Allyship between BIPOC people is also the theme of her drawing, Black Lives Matter. According to the American Psychological Association, Black and brown people are more vulnerable to systemic violence and racism.
Whalen-Lunn draws strength from art that incites activism. A red handprint across the mouth has become a symbol of resistance to the violence that threatens Indigenous women across Alaska, Canada, and the greater United States. The red hand also expresses solidarity with the families and victims of violence against Indigenous women and girls (MMIWG). Whalen-Lunn created an Alaska version of this symbol by designing a red hand containing the North Star. Her red hand links Alaska to the red hand movement, and the goal of ending violence against Indigenous women. “In Iñupiat culture we believe all of our ancestors are in the sky, all the women that we’ve lost are always looking down at us, and we are always working, trying to raise awareness.” – Sarah Whalen Lunn
No More Stolen Sisters, Solidarity, Black Lives Matter
Sarah Whalen Lunn
Digital illustrations on metal
2020
“These drawings are about standing together, with our Afro-Indigenous sisters. As an Iñupiat artist and mother of three girls, I give voice to the Indigenous female experience as I know it. I push myself to talk about the harder subjects of mental and emotional trauma, abuse and activism. We are fighting a lot of the same systems.” –Sarah Whalen Lunn
Iñupiaq artist Sarah Whalen Lunn draws the dark hair of an Indigenous woman and a Black woman flowing together into one thick, strong braid. Connection and Allyship between BIPOC people is also the theme of her drawing, Black Lives Matter. According to the American Psychological Association, Black and brown people are more vulnerable to systemic violence and racism.
Whalen-Lunn draws strength from art that incites activism. A red handprint across the mouth has become a symbol of resistance to the violence that threatens Indigenous women across Alaska, Canada, and the greater United States. The red hand also expresses solidarity with the families and victims of violence against Indigenous women and girls (MMIWG). Whalen-Lunn created an Alaska version of this symbol by designing a red hand containing the North Star. Her red hand links Alaska to the red hand movement, and the goal of ending violence against Indigenous women. “In Iñupiat culture we believe all of our ancestors are in the sky, all the women that we’ve lost are always looking down at us, and we are always working, trying to raise awareness.” – Sarah Whalen Lunn
Identifying Marks
Alice Qannik Glenn (b. 1989); Aviññaq/Danyal Harvey (b.1998); Bailey Shaeffer (b.2000); Cynthia Ivan (b.1986); Erika Jones (b1992); Kimberlyn Erin Smith (b.1981); Kunayaq Qaumaluq Hank (b. 1984); Piyuuk Shields (b. 1994(; Princes Daazharali Johnson (b.1973); Sarah Whalen Lunn (b.1977); Talivaaq Qinugana/Jerilynn B. Wellert (b. 2004); Tristan Agnauraq Morgan (b. 1995)
Selfie Photographs, 2020
Inuit tattoo has been practiced in Alaska for millennia by Iñupiat and Yup’ik women. Traditional Inuit tattoos are signifiers of cultural belonging and are not intended for use or appropriation by those outside the culture. Inuit tattoos throughout the Circumpolar North region historically were made by women, for women. Receiving tattoos was a ceremonial rite of passage that marked important events in a woman’s life, such as the transition from girlhood to womanhood, or the birth of a child. The revitalization of traditional tattooing practices is a powerful movement of Indigeneity and decolonization and an expression of cultural identity and sisterhood. Indigenous women from throughout Alaska share stories and photos of their traditional markings in traditional tattoo selfies. Traditional markings may vary in placement and style. Some common markings include: tavluġun (chin tattoo); iri (tattoos in the corner of the eyes); siqñiq (forehead tattoo, also meaning “sun,”); and sassuma aana (tattoos on the fingers representing the sea mother).
These images are on loan from the Anchorage Museum. They were originally presented as part of the exhibition Identifying Marks in 2020.
Alice Qannik Glenn (b. 1989); Aviññaq/Danyal Harvey (b.1998); Bailey Shaeffer (b.2000); Cynthia Ivan (b.1986); Erika Jones (b1992); Kimberlyn Erin Smith (b.1981); Kunayaq Qaumaluq Hank (b. 1984); Piyuuk Shields (b. 1994(; Princes Daazharali Johnson (b.1973); Sarah Whalen Lunn (b.1977); Talivaaq Qinugana/Jerilynn B. Wellert (b. 2004); Tristan Agnauraq Morgan (b. 1995)
Selfie Photographs, 2020
Inuit tattoo has been practiced in Alaska for millennia by Iñupiat and Yup’ik women. Traditional Inuit tattoos are signifiers of cultural belonging and are not intended for use or appropriation by those outside the culture. Inuit tattoos throughout the Circumpolar North region historically were made by women, for women. Receiving tattoos was a ceremonial rite of passage that marked important events in a woman’s life, such as the transition from girlhood to womanhood, or the birth of a child. The revitalization of traditional tattooing practices is a powerful movement of Indigeneity and decolonization and an expression of cultural identity and sisterhood. Indigenous women from throughout Alaska share stories and photos of their traditional markings in traditional tattoo selfies. Traditional markings may vary in placement and style. Some common markings include: tavluġun (chin tattoo); iri (tattoos in the corner of the eyes); siqñiq (forehead tattoo, also meaning “sun,”); and sassuma aana (tattoos on the fingers representing the sea mother).
These images are on loan from the Anchorage Museum. They were originally presented as part of the exhibition Identifying Marks in 2020.
Tupik Mi
Holly Nordlum with Michael Conti
Digital mov.
2022
“I think we do a lot of talking now about tattooing and what it was traditionally…not in the last 200 years, but in the beginning. What that looked like. And trying to honor that. Inuit culture and my Ancestors guide my work but I am most inspired by our lives today and the way we live in two worlds, one old and the modern urban life.” – Holly Nordlum
Nordlum is an Iñupiaq artist from Kotzebue, now based in Anchorage, working to revitalize the tradition of Inuit tattoo in Alaska. Nordlum trained with Maya Sialuk Jacobsen, an Inuit tattooist from Greenland. A growing cadre of Indigenous female practitioners see the reclaiming of tattoo as a way to heal from colonization and as a statement of pride and cultural affiliation. Many are mentored through Nordlum’s Tupik Mi apprenticeship program. According to Nordlum, traditional Inuit tattooing was done by women for women, almost exclusively to celebrate their lives and accomplishments. She explains that the first lines tattooed on the chin marked a girl who had come of age and was now an adult. Tattoos symbolized moments in a woman’s life, reflecting things like marriage and children. More tattoos meant a woman was older and had accomplished more, which was also celebrated. Nordlum is documenting the process of women in the Arctic connecting through traditional Inuit tattooing and reclaiming their cultural and personal identities. Her film, Tupik Mi, is still in production, and shows her personal journey with tattoo as well as her training of other Indigenous women across the Arctic in the practice.
Holly Nordlum with Michael Conti
Digital mov.
2022
“I think we do a lot of talking now about tattooing and what it was traditionally…not in the last 200 years, but in the beginning. What that looked like. And trying to honor that. Inuit culture and my Ancestors guide my work but I am most inspired by our lives today and the way we live in two worlds, one old and the modern urban life.” – Holly Nordlum
Nordlum is an Iñupiaq artist from Kotzebue, now based in Anchorage, working to revitalize the tradition of Inuit tattoo in Alaska. Nordlum trained with Maya Sialuk Jacobsen, an Inuit tattooist from Greenland. A growing cadre of Indigenous female practitioners see the reclaiming of tattoo as a way to heal from colonization and as a statement of pride and cultural affiliation. Many are mentored through Nordlum’s Tupik Mi apprenticeship program. According to Nordlum, traditional Inuit tattooing was done by women for women, almost exclusively to celebrate their lives and accomplishments. She explains that the first lines tattooed on the chin marked a girl who had come of age and was now an adult. Tattoos symbolized moments in a woman’s life, reflecting things like marriage and children. More tattoos meant a woman was older and had accomplished more, which was also celebrated. Nordlum is documenting the process of women in the Arctic connecting through traditional Inuit tattooing and reclaiming their cultural and personal identities. Her film, Tupik Mi, is still in production, and shows her personal journey with tattoo as well as her training of other Indigenous women across the Arctic in the practice.
Ravens Story
Rico Lanáat’ Worl
United States postage stamp
2019
Lingít artist Rico Worl’s Raven’s Story is the first Lingít design featured on a US postage stamp. In his design, trickster Raven sets free the sun, moon and stars before escaping from his human family and transforming back into bird form. “There’s excitement and drama in there, there’s a lot of meaningful and important and heavy things, but I wanted to present that more light side of it — the excitement,” Worl said. “The moment where Raven steals the stars in that story, it’s the moment of a heist. He’s either going to succeed or fail here. He’s super excited, he’s got adrenaline running.”
Rico Lanáat’ Worl
United States postage stamp
2019
Lingít artist Rico Worl’s Raven’s Story is the first Lingít design featured on a US postage stamp. In his design, trickster Raven sets free the sun, moon and stars before escaping from his human family and transforming back into bird form. “There’s excitement and drama in there, there’s a lot of meaningful and important and heavy things, but I wanted to present that more light side of it — the excitement,” Worl said. “The moment where Raven steals the stars in that story, it’s the moment of a heist. He’s either going to succeed or fail here. He’s super excited, he’s got adrenaline running.”
Haa Shagéinyaa / Our Protecting Power
Crystal Rose Worl
Digital illustration on metal
2019
“With these prints I aim to promote public health and wellness specifically in Indigenous communities which are most vulnerable to the pandemic .. We have the choice and capability to resist the virus, and adapt with modern tools as a means to protect our loved ones. It is in our power to protect, adapt and resist.” –Crystal Rose Worl
Lingít artist Crystal Worl developed a collection of posters drawing on Lingít formline design traditions to support public health during the pandemic. Striving to be broadly accessible and visually stimulating, Worl’s posters promote vaccination and masking in Lingít and English in brilliant candy colors. In one of her designs, Raven gets vaccinated. Crystal made her designs available on Amplifier, a nonprofit design lab intended to amplify important movements through free sharing and download. Amplifier, an online store, features limited-edition posters, apparel, stickers, and postcards to raise funds for distributing artwork in streets, classrooms and community organizations working on the frontlines.
Crystal Rose Worl
Digital illustration on metal
2019
“With these prints I aim to promote public health and wellness specifically in Indigenous communities which are most vulnerable to the pandemic .. We have the choice and capability to resist the virus, and adapt with modern tools as a means to protect our loved ones. It is in our power to protect, adapt and resist.” –Crystal Rose Worl
Lingít artist Crystal Worl developed a collection of posters drawing on Lingít formline design traditions to support public health during the pandemic. Striving to be broadly accessible and visually stimulating, Worl’s posters promote vaccination and masking in Lingít and English in brilliant candy colors. In one of her designs, Raven gets vaccinated. Crystal made her designs available on Amplifier, a nonprofit design lab intended to amplify important movements through free sharing and download. Amplifier, an online store, features limited-edition posters, apparel, stickers, and postcards to raise funds for distributing artwork in streets, classrooms and community organizations working on the frontlines.
We’re Still Here
Tommy Joseph
Alder and yew wood
2019-2020
“We're still here today. We haven't gone away. So many times, as part of colonization, media, talk about us in past-tense. My work is saying hey, we are in this pandemic together! Calling on our ancestors or spirit helpers can help us to survive. “ –Tommy Joseph
Lingít artist Tommy Joseph (Naal xἁk’w) created portrait masks to fit over N95 face masks to promote mask-wearing as a source of Indigenous pride and tradition, to protect elders especially. He says, “Animals impart a level of protection. The animals are spirit helpers, they help guide you in your journey. If we pay attention, they can still teach us. We share the land and waters with them. It’s up to us to protect them. They can represent identity, clan, or a source of pride. Our people have always created useful tools, weapons, fishing gear, basically whatever we needed that we didn’t trade for. Technology. This isn’t any different. Wearing a mask across your face can save lives.“
Tommy Joseph
Alder and yew wood
2019-2020
“We're still here today. We haven't gone away. So many times, as part of colonization, media, talk about us in past-tense. My work is saying hey, we are in this pandemic together! Calling on our ancestors or spirit helpers can help us to survive. “ –Tommy Joseph
Lingít artist Tommy Joseph (Naal xἁk’w) created portrait masks to fit over N95 face masks to promote mask-wearing as a source of Indigenous pride and tradition, to protect elders especially. He says, “Animals impart a level of protection. The animals are spirit helpers, they help guide you in your journey. If we pay attention, they can still teach us. We share the land and waters with them. It’s up to us to protect them. They can represent identity, clan, or a source of pride. Our people have always created useful tools, weapons, fishing gear, basically whatever we needed that we didn’t trade for. Technology. This isn’t any different. Wearing a mask across your face can save lives.“
Chickaloonies
Digital illustration printed on metal installation view at the Pratt Museum, Homer, Alaska, June 2022
2019
Dimi Macheras and Casey Silver
Ahtna artist Dimi Macheras was raised within Chickaloon Village Tribe. He wrote and illustrated a graphic novel, Chickaloonies, with his artistic collaborator, Casey Silver. A comic book for learners of all ages, Chickaloonies elevates traditional Ahtna stories. Macheras received the traditional Ya Ne Dah Ah [FD17] legends as a child from Chickaloon Village elders and his grandmother, Katherine Wade. Macheras and Silver released the book and toured Alaska schools teaching comic workshops during the COVID-19 pandemic. “This book is how I hope to continue the tradition of sharing our culture in a fun new way that would make them proud! ” says Macheras. “We hope viewers enjoy the recognizable, yet magical new world we’ve created, and join our brave, young heroes on a quest which will carry on the spirit and lessons of the Ya Ne Dah Ah legends into a new era.”
Digital illustration printed on metal installation view at the Pratt Museum, Homer, Alaska, June 2022
2019
Dimi Macheras and Casey Silver
Ahtna artist Dimi Macheras was raised within Chickaloon Village Tribe. He wrote and illustrated a graphic novel, Chickaloonies, with his artistic collaborator, Casey Silver. A comic book for learners of all ages, Chickaloonies elevates traditional Ahtna stories. Macheras received the traditional Ya Ne Dah Ah [FD17] legends as a child from Chickaloon Village elders and his grandmother, Katherine Wade. Macheras and Silver released the book and toured Alaska schools teaching comic workshops during the COVID-19 pandemic. “This book is how I hope to continue the tradition of sharing our culture in a fun new way that would make them proud! ” says Macheras. “We hope viewers enjoy the recognizable, yet magical new world we’ve created, and join our brave, young heroes on a quest which will carry on the spirit and lessons of the Ya Ne Dah Ah legends into a new era.”
How To Be A Good Guest
Melissa Shaginoff
Screenprint on paper
2022
“Indigenous lifeways are the only sustainable lifeways since time immemorial.” – Melissa Shaginoff
Ahtna/Paiute artist Melissa Shaginoff conceived How to be a Good Guest while quietly crafting beaded objects around a table with family and friends, reflecting on relationships nurtured and sustained by Indigenous “visiting culture.” Her self-published zine is a guide to building strong, reciprocal relationships. In her fill-in-the-blank-book, Shaginoff, whose Ahtna name means “little teacher” promotes a methodology for individuals and institutions to reflect on and engage with Indigenous wisdom. How To Be A Good Guest offers a set of questions and answers which thoughtfully dismantle hierarchical colonial relationships. With this zine, Shaginoff offers a guide for establishing relationships grounded in equity and respect and transforming expressions of land acknowledgement into actions of stewardship, allyship, and reciprocity.
Melissa Shaginoff leads a workshop, "How to be a good guest" for the staff of Tulsa Living Arts, September 2023
Melissa Shaginoff
Screenprint on paper
2022
“Indigenous lifeways are the only sustainable lifeways since time immemorial.” – Melissa Shaginoff
Ahtna/Paiute artist Melissa Shaginoff conceived How to be a Good Guest while quietly crafting beaded objects around a table with family and friends, reflecting on relationships nurtured and sustained by Indigenous “visiting culture.” Her self-published zine is a guide to building strong, reciprocal relationships. In her fill-in-the-blank-book, Shaginoff, whose Ahtna name means “little teacher” promotes a methodology for individuals and institutions to reflect on and engage with Indigenous wisdom. How To Be A Good Guest offers a set of questions and answers which thoughtfully dismantle hierarchical colonial relationships. With this zine, Shaginoff offers a guide for establishing relationships grounded in equity and respect and transforming expressions of land acknowledgement into actions of stewardship, allyship, and reciprocity.
Melissa Shaginoff leads a workshop, "How to be a good guest" for the staff of Tulsa Living Arts, September 2023
Sugpiaq Songs
Hanna Sholl
2019
“My hope is to speak to our people, a reminder that being strong and independent has always been part of our culture. And still is.”
Hanna Sholl, whose Sugpiaq/Alutiiq name is Agasuuq, “cormorant” was born in Kodiak to Sophie Frets (Hansen) and Bruce Burns. Her maternal grandparents were Walter and Edna Hansen. She introduces herself in this way to honor her ancestry, homelands, and relationships, each of which informs her art.
As a culture bearer, Agasuuq fosters the Alutiiq people's growth, educate people, and educate non-Native people by creating songs that address issues such as racism and cultural appropriation, domestic violence, and the opioid crisis—opening up the dialogue between Natives and non-Natives to talk about the challenging issues together. “In addition, one of the most essential parts of my art is encouraging our people to use art as a form of healing, with the understanding we do not have to be another generation of trauma... Sharing my art, my knowledge, and stories with the hopes of encouraging others. Seeking out ancestral techniques, history, and guidance with the hopes of sharing with others.”
Hanna Sholl
2019
“My hope is to speak to our people, a reminder that being strong and independent has always been part of our culture. And still is.”
Hanna Sholl, whose Sugpiaq/Alutiiq name is Agasuuq, “cormorant” was born in Kodiak to Sophie Frets (Hansen) and Bruce Burns. Her maternal grandparents were Walter and Edna Hansen. She introduces herself in this way to honor her ancestry, homelands, and relationships, each of which informs her art.
As a culture bearer, Agasuuq fosters the Alutiiq people's growth, educate people, and educate non-Native people by creating songs that address issues such as racism and cultural appropriation, domestic violence, and the opioid crisis—opening up the dialogue between Natives and non-Natives to talk about the challenging issues together. “In addition, one of the most essential parts of my art is encouraging our people to use art as a form of healing, with the understanding we do not have to be another generation of trauma... Sharing my art, my knowledge, and stories with the hopes of encouraging others. Seeking out ancestral techniques, history, and guidance with the hopes of sharing with others.”
Decolonizing Alaska at the Corcoran School of Art & Design, George Washington University, Washington DC, 2017
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