AC Discussion | On Native Land: Land Acknowledgements in Cultural Institutions

 

On January 28th, panelists Marisa Miakonda Cummings, Risa Puleo, and Steve Tamayo sat down for a virtual discussion, moderated by Annika Johnson, about land acknowledgements within cultural institutions. The wide-ranging conversation expanded to confront histories of dispossession, forced assimilation, cultural erasure, and genocide, the effects of which are still keenly felt by Indigenous communities in Nebraska today. Panelists continued on to discuss examples of reparative and restorative actions that move beyond performative activism to ignite real structural change.

Watch the full conversation, or read through the transcript below to find links to additional resources, and share your thoughts in the comments section.


Title of Discussion: On Native Land: Land Acknowledgements in Cultural Institutions

Panelist 1: Marisa Miakonda Cummings

Panelist 2: Risa Puleo

Panelist 3: Steve Tamayo

Moderator: Annika Johnson

Date of Discussion: January 28, 2021

List of Acronyms: [MMC] = Marisa Miakonda Cummings; [RP] = Risa Puleo; [ST] = Steve Tamayo; [AJ] = Annika Johnson; [PF] = Peter Fankhauser

 

Transcript

 

[PF] Welcome everybody. Thanks for coming tonight. It's great to see you all--we're excited you could join us. A special thanks to the Nebraska Arts Council, Nebraska Cultural Endowment, [and Pape Family Foundation] whose support makes programs like this possible.

 

My name is Peter and I'm the Program Director at Amplify Arts. For anybody who's new to Amplify, our mission is to support unity progress and innovation in the cultural sector and Alternate Currents is one program that helps us do that by contextualizing national and international discussions in the arts with responses from people a little closer to home. The program foregrounds that objective in a few different ways. We have the Alternate Currents Blog, which is an online resource; we have a bi-monthly discussion series, which we're all participating in tonight; and we also have a working group of 10 arts and culture workers who develop collaborative project-based work that helps shape the program and move it forward.

 

Tonight's panel discussion, ‘On Native Land: Land Acknowledgments and Cultural Institutions’ is the first in what will be a whole year of examining the future of our cultural institutions as they respond, or fail to respond, to calls for equity, justice, transparency, and accountability. Our panelists will be in conversation with one another. After that, we'll open up the floor for your questions which you're welcome to enter into the Q and A.

 

Before we get started, I wanted to let you all know that a video of this discussion and a transcript will be posted to the Alternate Currents Blog in the next week or so. You can revisit it there and leave your thoughts and comments in the ‘comments’ section. I also wanted to let you know that [submissions for] Amplify’s Indigenous American Artist Support Grant are open now until February 14th. That's $5,000 in unrestricted direct financial support for a creative practitioner, working in any discipline, living in Omaha, who claims Native North, Central, or South American ancestry. Please visit our website to learn more about both Alternate Currents and our Artist Support Grants. You can find our website at www.amplifyarts.org. With that, I'd like to turn it over to our exceptional panelists, Marisa Miakonda Cummings, Risa Puleo, Steve Tamayo, and our wonderful moderator, Annika Johnson.

 

[AJ] Thanks, Peter. Thanks for inviting me to be the moderator on this panel. I'm the Associate Curator of Native American Art at the Joslyn Art Museum. I'm here as a listener and learner. I am so excited to listen to the three of you brilliant people talk about land acknowledgements and how we can make transformative change.

 

I am a curator. I work in arts and culture institutions. It's been pretty remarkable to me, even in the last four years, just how frequently I now see land acknowledgments done at the beginning of programs. Usually, It's not mandated here in the US, but there is a definite interest. It's by no means a common practice, but in arts and culture organizations and universities, it’s happening. So, I think there's great interest in this topic, but I also think we have a lot to learn and a lot to discuss. Today, I'm hoping to cover a broad range of issues. This conversation is pretty free-flowing and we can take it where it needs to go. I think we'll cover some of the problematic aspects of land acknowledgments as well as how reorienting ourselves in Indigenous spaces can lead to really positive and deep structural change. So with that, I'd like our three panelists to introduce themselves. [Will each of you] say a little bit about what a land acknowledgement means to you and what the land means to you? I'd like to start with Marisa Cummings. Thanks for being here, Marisa.

 

[MMC] Thank you, Annika. I'll start with an introduction in my language.

 

Eyonia. Wíbthahaⁿ. Greetings. Thank you. It's a good day today and I'm glad you're all here. Óⁿbá tay úda. Uwibtha tamike. Let me tell you who I am. Izházhe wiwíta the Miakonda, wikóⁿ, izházhe Edith Walker Springer. Wáxe izházhe wiwíta Marisa Cummings. My name is Miakonda, a name given to me by my great-grandmother, Edith Walker Springer. She carried the same name and my English name is Marissa Cummings. Umóⁿhoⁿ w’au bthi. TeSinde tóⁿwoⁿgthóⁿ bthi. Insta'shunda níkashíⁿga wa’u bthi. I am an Umóⁿhoⁿ woman and I belong to the Buffalo Tail Clan of the Sky People. Íde bthie Winnebago, Nebraska Indian Health Service. I was born in what is now known as Winnebago, Nebraska at the Indian Health Service Hospital.

 

I come from a large family. I come from the Walker and Springer families of the Umóⁿhoⁿ People. My mother was a German-American third generation settler and when we discuss what the land means to me, she's my mother. The land, the earth is made up of the remnants of our people. It's made up of the soil that nurtures our seeds that we carry. Some of us still carry those traditional indigenous seeds. It's this idea of land ownership versus being a steward and a caretaker of the land. All of this winds up to being a good relative, a good ancestor to all living and non-living relatives and acknowledging the spirits that exist in the Land, the Water, the Sky--in all of those realms--and being connected to them. It's really about connection to creation. That's all I have to say. Wíbthahaⁿ.

 

[AJ] Risa, welcome.

 

[RP] Hi. Thank you so much for inviting me to be here. My name is Risa Puleo. I am zooming in from Chicago, which (let's do this and acknowledge) is a city built on the traditional territory of the Three Fires Confederacy, the Ojibwe, Ottawa, the Pottawattamie. It is also home to the Miami, Illinois, Anoka, Ho-Chunk and Menominees. Owing to its location on Lake Michigan, as well as its proximity to the many rivers in the area, this land was a traditional meeting place for many tribes and communities. It is now home to one of the largest and most diverse Native urban communities in the US.

 

I am a guest in this land. I am actually from San Antonio, Texas. When I talk about being from San Antonio, Texas, I mean I am from that land. My ancestors were from that place before it was named San Antonio by the Spanish. We are descended from the Coahuiltecan People from whom the word ‘Texas’ is derived. Texas, at some point that teycha became a tejas and is now Texas. These are the people who now give that land this name and yet, I believe only one or two people still speak that language.

 

I believe that I'm here because I am the person who is maybe responsible for the land acknowledgement that is posted at the Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts, inside their entry door. I put up that land acknowledgement in with the help of a young Umóⁿhoⁿ woman, who did the research to write that, and then we crafted the language together. The opportunity to [make]  the land acknowledgement came up for an exhibition that I did in 2017 at Bemis called Monarchs: Brown and Native Contemporary Artists in the Path of the Butterfly and that was an exhibition that used the butterfly (I hate to say used) that was inspired by the butterfly, and tried to think like a butterfly, to rethink the land without all of these boundaries that had been established by treaty laws. All these state boundaries, including the boundaries between US and Canada and the United States and Mexico--that's the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo--the butterfly is indifferent to these boundaries and so how could we think about this land as being continuous again.

 

This was an exhibition that was also trying to contextualize itself within recent events. If you're remembering 2017, that was on one hand the Standing Rock protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline and then on the other, a presidential campaign that was built on a promise to build a wall at the US-Mexico border. This is interesting because I'm going to state a position. I also want to ask you to notice this shirt that I'm wearing. It was made by a Chicago-based artist named Santiago X. It says, “Rematriate the Land” and you too can have one here through this link. This is an interesting position to be in. I recently got an email from the Director of Bemis asking if I would mind if he used the land acknowledgement as proof of Bemis' [commitments] to Native communities. Bemis owes me money for that exhibition that they never paid. I would also like to say Bemis gets a lot of funding from funders invested in oil and cattle who are actively in detriment to the land. So there's this way in which I didn't recognize at the time, I was participating in a sort of performative use of the land acknowledgement, which isn’t also to say that land acknowledgements don't have an important function within institutional spaces.

 

It was also interesting because that exhibition traveled to Miami, to San Antonio, to Overland Park in Kansas, just outside of Kansas City and it was supposed to travel to Minneapolis, after a number of incidents at the Walker. What was really interesting about this migration of the show was the very different responses to land acknowledgements based on who was writing them in those places and also the constituency of those places. I will also say that, at a certain point, we even got pushback about writing a land acknowledgement for the show from the Native community who said, “This is not for us. We know that this is our land. This is for a settler viewer.” I'm giving you all of these anecdotes now to throw some complications in from the beginning about land acknowledgements that I hope we can think about.

 

[AJ] Thank you, Risa and welcome, Steve.

 

[ST] Good evening everybody. My name is Steve Tamayo. I'm a member of the Sičhą́ǧú Lakȟóta from Rosebud, South Dakota and so this land acknowledgement, when I first heard that that term, it takes me back to many generations on both sides of my family because of my last name being Tamayo and my grandparents coming from Monterey and Montemorelos way down in Mexico. Being a member of the Sičhą́ǧú Lakȟóta, it's very specific to my Indigenous roots and so when I think about land acknowledgement, I claim the Western Hemisphere. Not only that, but it extends over across the pond because of the influence of trade. When the fur traders made their ways down the rivers, unfortunately they ended up with a lot of our women and so because of that, my grandmother who was of the Ihanktonwan, the Yankton Sioux Tribe, carries that last name of Rochambeau. Even on my grandfather's side, he carries that name of Bachmann from German descent. I have all kinds of mixed blood that runs through my veins still today. Once again, when I think about this land acknowledgement, I think about what specific time we are actually referring to. As Lakȟótas, one thing that most people aren't aware of is that our language, our customs, our traditions were against the law. This land acknowledgment was about the forced removal of our homelands, of our ancestral homelands. I am very happy and proud that I am a member of the Sičhą́ǧú Lakȟóta.

 

With that being said, Hau mitákuyepi aŋpétu ki le Mi čhaŋté naháŋ napé ciyuzapelo. Hemáčha Ta Asáŋpi Oyáŋke naháŋ Sičhą́ǧú Lakȟóta. This is one of our greetings. In my language, [“Hello my relatives, on this day I speak from my heart and offer you my hand in peace.”] 

 

A lot of times, when I work in the school systems as a Cultural Specialist for Omaha Public Schools, I have to be mindful of my audience and how I can gift them this cultural knowledge [in [an age-appropriate way]. You know, working with the Pre-K, all the way up into our high schools, and then teaching for Metropolitan Community College and UNO, it gives me the opportunity to tell our stories at many different levels. Understanding that, you know, tonight we can actually speak the truth. When I work with my kids, when I work with the teachers in the Omaha Public School system (OPS), they teach about US history that's not our history. So we incorporate the absent narrative. We incorporate our stories of creation and how we have evolved from the Wičhápi Oyáte ki, from the Star Nation people. and so when you read and research and learn about the Indigenous relatives of Turtle Island, of a place we call Khéya Wíta, we incorporate our creation stories of emerging from the Underworld. We were placed here and our naǧí, our soul, our wanáǧi, when it goes back up to the Creator, and when those stars fall, this is how we come back home. That's that continuous cycle that never ends. They try to bury us time and time again (and when I say “them,” I talk about the government; I talk about backing from the United States’ military trying to contain us, control us--something that they still haven't been able to do).

 

We know of the millions of Indigenous people who used to reside in the Western Hemisphere and today there's only a few million of us left. Of those numbers, there were only 200,000 or so when they first took that census in 1890 of Indigenous people. So what happened to our relatives? We're trying to revive. We're trying to bring back our stories, our language, and trying to preserve as much as possible, but we've lost so much. This is what we're trying to reclaim.

 

And understand this land acknowledgement--this is Indigenous land. I look at the Western Hemisphere as Indigenous land. All of my relatives to the south, that ethnic group that exists today as Mexicans, was a population, a group of people that was created because of the Indigenous people that were there when the Spaniards came over. That's how and why the Mexican people were created. So in this the OPS school system, everybody from the South automatically, the teachers think that they must speak Spanish. They don't understand that they're Guatemalan and Nicaraguan and El Salvadorian and all the different ethnic groups and languages that exist. So I bring an awareness to the 7,000 languages that exist in the world.

 

I grew up as a Mexican and understanding Spanish very fluently as a little person. Then, that was kind of beat out of me. It was taken away from me, because I had such a hard time in school, so I kind of forgot my Spanish. Then, as an adult, I wanted to learn more about my mother's side of my family up in South Dakota. You know, it's common for people to leave the comfort of their home, the comfort of their community, to go and learn and go to different universities and so that's what I did, but my university was a way of life. That's why I moved to Rosebud, South Dakota to learn the ways of being Lakȟóta. This is a way of being and that's how important that is.

 

So that land acknowledgement, once again, what time period? In the 1500s, we're in the Carolinas, and then we systematically migrated up towards the Great Lakes area, and then we headed westwards once again. We got caught in a prairie fire (when you do research of Indigenous people, the explanation of the names that identify them will explain what happened to the people in their movement). So I’m a Sičhą́ǧú, a member of the “Burnt Thigh People,” because of this prairie fire that occurred in 1762-63. Lakȟóta is the dialect in which I speak. In the history books, you read about Sioux Indians, but we don't call ourselves Indians. That Nadouessioux means something else. It's not who we are. I am a Lakȟóta. That's the dialect in which I speak. I’m a member of the Sičhą́ǧú Lakȟóta. My family comes from Asáŋpi Oyáŋke, a small little beautiful community called Milk's Camp. You'll probably never find Milk's Camp on a map. We're way out in the country by ourselves, which is really awesome. We're not on the main square that we call Rosebud today. My community is in between Rosebud and the Yankton Sioux Reservation way down in the creeks. Once again, you know, there's no maps, no acknowledgement of our ways, where our community is and it's kind of cool that way. Even on our own Reservation, [there are people who’ve] never been to Milk's Camp community. We're like, “that's our secret.” We haven't let that out yet. Hopefully, one day, each and every one of you could visit my community because it is a beautiful place. So my land acknowledgement is today of Asáŋpi Oyáŋke, which is Milk's Camp community. This is where all of my ancestors are buried today. Pilámayapelo. Thank you.

 

[AJ] You three are amazing. I wrote down so many questions and ideas and comments. My first question was, “What's the purpose of a land acknowledgement,” but I'm totally scrapping that because Marisa, you're talking about Earth and when we're talking about land, we're talking about Earth. Risa, you [asked], “Who is this land acknowledgement even for?”. Steve, you're talking about a land acknowledgement as a way of being. This is much more expansive than the discrete institutional statement that I think is how land acknowledgements are being talked about right now, at least within the arts and culture field. I get a sense of this sort of anxiety around having to perform an acknowledgement. I think maybe a good place to start then is, what is the work that needs to be done?

 

[MMC] Can I just jump in quickly right before that. I want to give a brief history of where this contemporary idea of land acknowledgement comes from. There was a Truth and Reconciliation Commission that was led out of Canada and senator Murray Sinclair. He is our Western Doorway Chief in our Mide'win Lodge, at Three Fires Mide'win Lodge. He was a judge that became a senator and he and his wife assisted and led the storytelling. They went to every single Indigenous community (I want to be careful with that word “indigenous” too) in Canada and they collected stories of those communities and how the Canadian government impacted those communities in a harmful way. Along with that, came this huge collection of ideas on how the reparation of this relationship between Canadian First Nations people and the government could happen. Part of that was that they wanted acknowledgments of treaty land. So it's a little different up there how they do those Treaty 1, Treaty 2 territories. They wanted, wherever federal administrative folks went, for them to acknowledge the Indigenous people whose land that they were on. The difference is, in Canada, they did not have the movement and they did not have the removal to the extent that we did here in the US. The point being that it was a Canadian theme that was brought to America.

 

I get it. It's a great idea. We want to be acknowledged by the city of Omaha that's named after us. You know, let's acknowledge that. Let's say it right. Let's pronounce it right. Let's realize the Tribe’s right up the road. Let's acknowledge those people that live there. But then, we get into this thing where we're called the “Omaha Tribe of Nebraska” through the BIA [Bureau of Indian Affairs] naming us. “The Omaha Tribe of Nebraska”? Nebraska didn't even exist when we signed our treaty! The only way Nebraska became a state is through the removal of other people--Ponca, Pawnee, Northern Cheyenne and others. Through that removal, we were able to stay luckily in somewhat of a territory that we knew, but that was even a territory new to us in the last 200 years because of [settler] expansion from the East Coast. It was just a time of chaos. Tribes were moving all over. There was warfare, there was hunger, shortages where we're used to having these huge agricultural surpluses that we're trading on, which Steve spoke of before. Our people went all the way up to Winnipeg (what's now called Winnipeg) to trade buffalo hides. We were traveling all over the place and our network wasn't roads, it was the rivers.

 

This time of confusion was happening. We're talking about naming places and spaces. All have, or 90 percent of these towns, have Indian names. I'm in Minneapolis right now, in the Minneapolis area. You drive around and there's Wakonda, South Dakota, which is our name for the Creator, or for, I would say, Creation. So, you know our names, our words were taken from us. Our seeds were taken from us. Patriarchy was enforced. Our women's rights and way of life were taken from us. Our children were taken from us and now it's like, “Oh, we're going to say that the city of Omaha is on the traditional land of the Umóⁿhoⁿ Tribe.” What else is coming with this? Where's the reparation part? What are you going to do to remedy the violence that has been done to our people, the harm that is still living in our veins to this day? What are you going to do to fix that before you talk about acknowledging stolen land?

 

That's why I'm careful about the word “indigenous” because if we go anywhere in the world, somebody's indigenous [to that place]. There's Indigenous people to what's now called Scotland, England. You get into the Yorks and all the different groups of people that lived over there. So the word “indigenous” is a word that we have to be very careful with. Although, I like to use it instead of “Native American” or “American Indian.” It's a word I prefer because we are the original people of this land. The reality is that we were here before America, and we're going to be here after America, because our connection is that deep into the underwater springs, into the land that houses the bones of our ancestors, into our children that are learning our way of life that are renewing [it] because this is the first generation that has been able to grow up without fear of violence for singing our songs and practicing our way of life. I think about this being so much more, but I wanted to talk briefly about where this idea came from and why it's different here in the States than it is in Canada, and why it is, and can be performative, although the intentions may be super awesome.

 

When I was in Pittsburgh, I heard a land recognition talking about honoring the Osage people, “the Osage people whose land we're on right now.” Pittsburgh? I'm pretty sure that there's a group right up the road that's still here. Not to say that the Osage may not have been over there a long, long time ago because they're part of the Dhegiha now. They're part of our group, but there's a group of people right up the road who you didn't acknowledge. It's been done wrong so many times. It's been done half-assed so many times. A lot of white people like to get Indians that are easy to talk to, I'll put it like that (not me), on these boards and committees to make land acknowledgements because they tell them what they want to hear, they make it sound pretty, and they make it easy for them, but I’m going to be quiet.

 

[AJ] Thanks for giving that brief history. I think that's really important for all of us to know and what I'm gonna pick up on here is the word “reparations” and you also are talking about discussion. There is a website you can go to. I forget the exact url, but it's like a map of different Tribes and it shows where the overlap is. You can type in your city, or there's a text service where you can text, write your city, and then it'll pop back with some Tribe names. I've found that it's often inaccurate. Maybe as a step toward this process of deeper change, what do conversations look like around this process of understanding? I think there's a lot of unlearning that needs to be done a lot of learning that needs to be done. I know this is a very broad question but how does conversation fit into this when we're talking about such complex layers of movements of people, of different government-to-government relations, of genocide? There's multiple historical layers here. I'll open it up.

 

[ST] You know, when you talk about this topic, it’s just so just so open, you know what I mean? What time period? As as Lakȟótas, we lived north of Ogallala [Nebraska]. There's a place called Blue Water Creek and that was our main stomping grounds back in the day. I'm talking American Horse, Red Cloud, a lot of our itȟáŋčhaŋs that way, you know. One thing about OPS and working with our social studies teachers and our history teachers, I get to incorporate our words and try to do away with the wrong words. We have no chiefs, you know. This concept of chiefs never existed. We had councils of men. You would be an itȟáŋčhaŋ of your own thiwégna, your own village. We couldn't live in big cities because of pollution. All of our horses would eat up all the grass. We would contaminate the ground. We're on constant movement, you know not just migration, but more of a systematic migration because of seasons, because of game, because of firewood and water. This is why our [territories] were just huge. Our lands, back in the day, were [defined] by landmarks--rivers, forests, and mountains, you know. They determined our ancestral homelands at that time.

 

So when you talk about repatriation, what time period once again? Is it first contact? Is it during that time of the 1860s when the Indian Wars took off? When they were done fighting with each other during the Civil War, then that tide [of forced migration] went out westward. That's when we fought with them but in our history books, in third and fourth grade, kids are just like, “Oh my gosh, we killed all the Indians.” They're still surprised today when we come up and start speaking our language. They're like, “What? You still exist?” So they see these items [from our cultures] in the museums of yesteryear [only in the context of the past]. As an artisan, as a traditional artisan, I love to create art still out of items that I find outside. That's just how I am. To revitalize these old cultural teachings is my mission in life. That's what's really cool about this. I have a nice following of young adults in our high schools that are really passionate about this. Understanding their existence and their Tribal Nations and where they come from, I have them do the research of their own people. That's how important that is.

 

As a traditional artist, of course we're going to use that rawhide and that skin, but the symbology and the numerology, the color concepts you incorporate will differentiate what Tribal Nation you come from or what region you come from. You know, we are the People of the Plains and so even that horse, being on that stoic horse, having that look in that way, that headdress, and our sagyé, you know, our staff, this is what I teach. The paraphernalia that exists within each of our warrior societies, each of our women's guilds, and their societies themselves will determine their existence and their way of being. That's how important this is.

 

I love the land acknowledgement because I'm indigenous to this land. I've been here for thousands of years. When I say, “I,” I'm talking about all of my ancestors, wakíksuyA, to always remember our ancestors. Understanding the importance of that, [the prospect] of [giving] land back is just a farce. We will never get our land back. When we took them to court, we won that settlement. We won that trial, that case of illegally confiscating the Black Hills. Going back once again to those treaties, back at that time period we were awarded millions of dollars and today that money is still in the bank; that money is at 1.3 billion dollars and yet we are still some of the poorest Indigenous Nations in this land. Yet we're like, “We don't want the money. We want the land.” But look where the Black Hills is [located] and look at the tourists that [come] from all over the world to the Black Hills. So, we'll never ever get that land back.

 

I'm a Water Protector and as a Water Protector, I create art to bring an awareness of the environmental atrocities committed by these fossil fuel companies. Understanding that, and the impact of climate change, and how it's played a part in all of our lives, [they’re] still trying to contaminate our lands; not only our lands, everybody's land. So you have to think about the Ogallala Aquifer that runs from Canada all the way to Texas. Once you contaminate our water supply, then what are the 10 to 15 million people [who depend on it] gonna do? Then there will be an outcry. This is why it was so important four years ago for us to gather as many different nations at Standing Rock to bring an awareness. I knew that time was real when the Crow Nation came walking in. I just about fell over.

 

I was asked to participate and go to Standing Rock. I became the art teacher for a very special school called, Mní Wičhóni Nakíčižiŋ Owáyawa. This is the Defenders of the Water School. I was at Standing Rock for a long time as an art teacher. I had my “leksi time.” That's what the kids came up with. They came up with the name of the school. They came up with “leksi time.” Leksi is uncle, so it's “Uncle Steve's” time. It's like I prepared my whole life for that movement, that standoff. So when you think about repatriation, you know, how's that even possible?

 

[RP] I’d like to respond to this by thinking a little bit like the land in terms of geological time instead of historical time. There hasn't been an empire in the history of the world that has lasted. Rome fell. Greece fell. What we're talking about is occupancy by the United States that also will have an end date and the land will still be here. I'm trying to shift our sense of scale and time around this statement that you're saying. I'm going to say “rematriation” for Santiago X. Rematriation, returning to the mother, is not possible. When we’re talking about patriarchy, we're also talking about the kind of structures and logics of the United States, or the nation state, as a construct. I think that it may not be within our lifetime. We might not experience it, but I do think that there will be a moment where the United States is no longer.

 

There's also this interesting question that I think Marisa [posed]--please correct me, Marisa if I'm wrong--that’s seeping in about the difference between indigenous (being of this place; being from this place; being born of the earth that your ancestors are buried in; being turned back into the earth that you will be buried in as well) and being nativist and these sort of increasing political calls about who belongs to this place. It was really interesting, Marisa when you were talking, something you were saying reminded me of this real frontier settler Texan statement that gets said a lot which is, “Texas was its own country, and we will be again.” My response to this is, “Yeah, it'll be Indigenous land again,” as a way to think about the many different occupancies that have allowed different groups to make claim to ownership or placedness or being from a place. In a way, I think what we're talking about is different. The ways in which treaty boundaries have moved the Umóⁿhoⁿ to Nebraska, or made Texans indigenous, all of these things kind of become a jumble.

 

[MMC] Yeah, I just want to speak to that. I could say that I own the sky, or I could say I'm the Princess of England if I want to. It doesn't mean it's true. This idea of ownership is something, when it was applied during pre-colonial times, it had to be done in a very structured way. I don't want to go all the way into Federal Indian Policy, but when we look at for instance the Papal Bulls, they said that Indigenous people did not have right to ownership of land, but only occupancy of lands, and that if they denied christianizing themselves, they could be enslaved, raped, or murdered. I mean it's in the Papal Bulls. The Pope wrote it, not me. I always get people that want to battle me on it. I'm not for that. Go research it yourself. That's what the Pope said. Those Papal Bulls became Federal Indian Law here in the United States through the Marshall Trilogy. It was enforced through our own Supreme Court that Indian people don't have the right to [land]. That that even goes to our Reservations. There are all kinds of issues with land that I won't get into with us not having true ownership or being able to get capital on our own land. Minneapolis, or where I live right now, I don't own this land. I don't get the own thing, but I offer tobacco in my backyard. I offer tobacco in my front yard. Our kiddos take our spirit plates out to the trees that are all around our house. That, to me, is our way of honoring the spirit of creation and the spirits of our ancestors. In our home, we're practicing this. This is how we live our lives.

 

When I think of a land acknowledgement, you know acknowledging our mother, because land is your mother, ihóⁿ á tóⁿde. We don't say “Turtle Island” because that's more of an Algonquin or Shoshone creation story, but she's our mother. Then you have our grandmother, the moon. You have our father, the sun. These, what people would call deities, we call relatives. What people would call resources, we call relatives, you know. I think it's just a whole different way of thinking and being. It doesn't matter if they call it Minneapolis today.

 

This is in our prophecies, what we're going through right now in the United States. I created this meme on Facebook where Kermit [the Frog] is drinking tea and I put a cedar leaf on it. I'm like, ”Just sitting here drinking my cedar tea, watching the prophecies unfold,” because these are the teachings that we're given in our lodge that this time would come. I didn't think it'd come [so soon], you know. I was preparing my kids for their kids for their kids for their kids. But we're watching it start. Even my kids will be like, “Mom, is it happening?” They can even sense it. We're all sensing this shift in energy and we're watching this country kind of implode right now because the foundation of this country was built on white supremacy and it was built on oppression and it was built on stolen people and stolen land that land wasn't just stolen, people were killed violently. People were murdered violently. You can say, “Indians were killing themselves before we got here,” but that that's not really what was happening. That might be some white history book that tells people those stories of our history, but nobody's asked us what was happening pre-contact. We'll tell you stories of the Three Fires Confederacy. We actually had an agreement with them. We signed the Treaty of Prairie du Chien in 1831, the Fourth Treaty of Prairie du Chien, and we aligned ourselves with the Three Fires Confederacy at that time. There are these long histories of connection and interaction among tribes. Then there were times we didn't get along, you know. We would have it out, and then we'd get together and have a feast and ceremony, and okay we're good again. In those times of peace, our women were the ones that rose to the top because we were the ones that were making the food, creating the food, sowing the food in the land. Then in times of war, patriarchy came up because men were the warriors. It was kind of this balance that would fluctuate. We're always looking for that balance.

 

What happened, I think, is because we were in this time of warfare and then colonization at the same time, we got stuck in this patriarchy. We were really forced to adjust to European forms of patriarchy, like in for instance, the Dawes Act. Allotment was completely patriarchal--male head of household, male owned the woman, male owned the children. That came from Europe. That did not come from here. Our women own the home. Our women own the children and our women, this is her space. Our men acknowledge that, and respect that, because they respect us, or they should, or else they get kicked out. Steve knows that story. Put your moccasins outside. That means you don't come home if your shoes are outside. This isn't your home anymore. So it's a whole different way of thinking. Sometimes we [take] this colonial Western European way of thinking and we try and make it an equals sign and then say, “Indian--this is what it equals.” In reality, even in our language, it's not equal. It's different ways of thinking. Part of what we're doing now, in this time and place and space, is we’re trying to change the way that we're thinking and think more like those old people thought. It's hard as heck when we're bombarded with all of these ideas of things and capitalism and beautiful houses and cars and clothes. It's hard but that idea of capitalism and excess is what's killing our earth. Minimalism is actually something that we have to look at embracing more because that means that we're protecting her more. It's just a different way of thinking. I love Steve, when you talked about going to Standing Rock. That was a time in our current recent history that changed everything for us. It brought us together. It connected us to people who thought like us and who were like, “Okay, I'm not crazy. There are other people out there that are thinking like me.” Steve made me a really beautiful picture that was a Water Protector picture. I really um think he's an amazing artist. He does a lot for the community teaching all the little Umóⁿhoⁿs. He even learned some Umóⁿhoⁿ. I appreciate him--just wanted to say that much and I’ll stop.

 

[AJ] I think this is wonderful and I just want to remind listeners, if you have questions, start typing them into the Q & A because I do want to get to some of your questions. We might go over a little bit but type them into the Q & A function.

 

I did want to bring up, while people are formulating those questions, language has come up a lot. Marissa, what you were just talking about is this problem of translation. It's not a deity, that idea, missionaries came in. When they were trying to understand, they weren't understanding, but when they were trying to at least document indigenous lifeways, they were trying to draw this correlation to a Christian way of structuring the world. I'm curious to hear how the three of you think [Indigenous languages factor] into rematriation and LANDBACK movements. I can think of one example in Minnesota (I'm from Minnesota) of Bde Maka Ska, formerly known as Lake Calhoun, but formerly known as Bde Maka Ska, and now formally recognized by the city and the state by its Dakota name. As somebody who grew up going to that lake, that was a really profound moment for me. I'm wondering what the three of you think. How does language factor into acknowledging land?

 

[MMC] Let's just point out quickly that Fort Calhoun by Omaha, Nebraska is named after the same Calhoun. He fought on the wrong side of the Civil War. He believed in slavery. He was an Indian killer. The forts are named after people like that, of course. Fort Calhoun is named after that exact same person. I just want to point that out for all you people that live in what's now called Nebraska.

 

[ST] You know, for those of you who don't know, half of the states in the US have Indigenous origins to them. Even where Marisa’s at. Understanding mni is that water. Sota is that mist. Just like ní shude--understanding that ní shude is that misty water, the smoky waters. It's what we see. I always tell everybody, especially when I go back to the Carolinas (I used to visit that place every few years), that there's a lot of rivers in the mountains with really long names because it's evidence of the people that used to live there, that no longer live there, because of forced migration, because of extermination. When you look at place, when you look at the mountains and the rivers, think about that name specifically and how they identify them. Anytime you hear that bde, mni, ni, this is all water. That's how important that is.

 

Quite often, I give a talk about what is truly sacred. Utilizing English, it takes away a lot of the true, heartfelt meanings of our words. There's a lot of our words that can never ever be translated. Understanding [a phrase] as simple as Mitákuye Oyás'iŋ, that we're all related, with the mainstream thought process, you just think that, “Oh, they're talking about their own, themselves as Indigenous people.” But it's more than that because we are related to everything that exists. If it lives and breathes and it has that naǧí. So that naǧí is that soul. When it loses that that physical body then it becomes wanáǧi. It's separated. Once again, there's a deeper meaning to our words.

 

As Lakȟóta, we incorporate the seven stages of life of our ways of being. We come here as a spirit, and then you know in the English mainstream, they have the same concept, they just call them toddlers and adolescents and teenagers and adults, you know. We have that same thing. When we talk about and identify women, we incorporate la at the end like, wičhíŋčala wikȟóškalaka, wíŋučíŋla. That la is that term of endearment, that heartfelt term of endearment that we have for that individual. For our wíŋyaŋ, it doesn't have a la on them because we have to be mindful of our status amongst the people. So think about that. Jealousy is a factor. A lot of our men and a lot of our women are very jealous of each other. But once you reach that next stage of grandmother, then she becomes wíŋučíŋla. Then you can come up and hug her and everything else, you know. but if she's just wíŋyaŋ, you better stand back. Don't even look at her. That's how powerful our words are. It's descriptive. It's heartfelt. you know. Once again, we incorporate that into what we see and what we see is our land, our waters, our mountains, and our tree lines. This is how complicated our language is. Even when you talk about an eagle, for us it's more complicated than that because we identify the stage of life that it's in and what type it is. Is it spotted? Is it immature? Is it golden? Is it a bald eagle? Even utilizing those feathers, those are gifted to a lot of our Indigenous people. Understanding that the golden eagle belongs to the men, that ball belongs to our females. There's a lot of teachings in this way of life.

 

That's where I come into play. I've been gifted all of this cultural knowledge because I wanted to sit down with some grandmas and grandpas and just have some soup and have some coffee and just visit. You'll be amazed at what you're gifted if you just go down, sit down, settle down, put away that technology, and just visit and openly communicate. For Indigenous people, you have to be mindful because if you come at us with questions, we're like, “okay,” and we have to take you back to a place, back to the beginning. [If] we don't think you're ready for that next stage, [then we'll never tell you]. That's how important and valuable our information is. People have profited off of our indigenous teachings and our creation stories. When you read all these things in books and see movies and everything else, it wasn't written by Indigenous people because then it becomes fact. We’re visionary people. That's how important that is. Thank you.

 

[AJ] Thanks for that. Thanks to all of you. I just want to keep talking to all of you. We do have a really active Q & A. I see Marisa and Risa, you've been commenting. Thanks for that. I see a lot of these questions as being really interconnected with what Steve was saying about the history and what history's taught versus what history you learn through building relationships. Somebody asked, “With so much history in so many different groups, where do we start if we want to learn more and understand this important history of the land?” I want to tie that into another question which is, “Who can write/draft a land acknowledgement?” I think there's a lot to tease out here in terms of dialogue, communication, and relationship building. Risa, I know you've done this for institutions. You've done this as a curator. I'm curious to hear from the three of you your thoughts on that question. Who do you go to? Where does the conversation begin?

 

[MMC] Yeah, I just want to say one thing. I worked at the University of Iowa and the University of South Dakota and when it came down to drafting the land acknowledgement at USD, I was part of the committee. I was assigned to that. After having conversations with everyone, I just said, “I can't do it.” I don't believe in them. I think that they cause more harm than they do good and the reason for that is because of the intentionality behind it. Like I said, some people have great intentions, or they assign someone with great intentions to lead a task force or lead a committee. In reality, what comes out is not something that I feel honored by or I feel respected by and so I will not help anyone draft a land acknowledgement. If your purpose for sitting in on this Zoom call today was to find someone to do that, I'm not your person. But you know, there's all kinds of Indians and there's all kinds of Indians that do all kinds of things, so maybe you'll find one that will be willing to do that.

 

I also want to touch on [the fact that academic institutions] here in Minnesota, in Iowa, (I'm from Sioux City, Iowa--Nebraska, South Dakota, Iowa tri-state area) all of these land grant or state institutions of higher ed all participated in colonialism from the very beginning. These institutions were built almost as soon as statehood happened. In these institutions are our ceremonial objects, our people's bones. There was a building at Iowa that none of us Indians would go in because we're like, “That's where they keep all the Indians’ bones, the basement in there.” None of us would go in that building and if our classes were in there, we would write a statement as to why we refused to go in this building. When we talk about all of the items that are still currently there; when we talk about the bones of our people that are there that were stolen or black market sold; and when we talk about that relationship higher education had with anthropology, even at the Smithsonian, even one of our own, Francis La Flesche who participated in that; when we look at that harm that was caused intentionally and the the role that they played--they had to do heck of a lot of work--they have some nerve trying to say that, “I  acknowledge that this was on the land of la la la la,” and that “We acknowledge that they existed here before.” Well, duh. We know they existed here before and guess what, they're still here! They're still here. Have you formed a relationship with that group of people? Do you go to that community to do anything but research or do you go into that community to extract information and research from those people to fill your little CV, to fulfill your own needs? Or do you go into that community to serve those people and to really find out what they need, ask what they want?

 

Look at those states that want to do land acknowledgements, but they continue to dig into the bones of our ancestors, they continue to destroy our sacred sites. How dare you say you want to acknowledge us as having been there when you refuse to acknowledge our ties to the land that you are continually destroying, [while] not giving us a place or a seat at the table. How dare you.

 

I'm not the one. I'm not your person to do that. I am your person to come in and tell you how you can start dismantling ideas of colonialism and white supremacy. I can do that. Until you start acknowledging those ideas of white supremacy and colonialism, until you accept those ideas white supremacy and colonialism, I can't even begin to talk to you about doing anything that will benefit Native people because you have to have a full understanding of what you were never taught and what many of us had to go to college to be able to articulate because we grew up hearing it, we grew up hearing our grandmas and grandpas talk about it. We grew up hearing our families talk about it, but I didn't know how to articulate it or really say it until i went to college. It empowered me to be able to speak how white people understand, use the words that give me credibility, have the degrees that give me credibility to be able to speak to them in a way that they can understand what happened to us. So that's my role. Those are some of my gifts and each of us here have different gifts. Each of us individually as human beings have different gifts. I'll stop there.

 

[RP] I regret giving Bemis the land acknowledgement because I've seen how they weaponized it and I've also seen how they weaponized it against me and continue to use my brownness in support of a program, while also not paying me. I've given them a tool that they can now turn into a weapon, or wield irresponsibly, because Bemis, as I believe we all know is, at least when I was there, run by an all, or primarily, like 90% white staff who are using the land acknowledgment to perform their social responsibility while not actually enacting that responsibility. On the other hand, I also teach Native American Art, modern and contemporary, but also ancient at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. That is a place where I think that it is also useful. I use the land acknowledgement that was generated by the American Indian Center in Chicago. That land acknowledgment was written by them and was most recently used in the Chicago Architecture Biennial as a kind of architectural manifesto for how that exhibition positioned itself. I also think that exhibitions and institutions, like museums, are the spaces in which we most often encounter land acknowledgements. I just said that and then I'm also like, “Well, maybe that's actually the only places I go.” That might also be true.

 

I also heard a story of an architect coming to the Chicago Architecture Biennial, seeing a land acknowledgement, and then having such a radical re-understanding of space through this land acknowledgement that he began to practice architecture differently. I mean, that is also this kind of potential for change that something can do. Building up what Marisa is saying, what is the labor that the land acknowledgement performs and how is it also a stand-in for not asking actual Native people to perform that labor for you? When is that useful and then when is it also used irresponsibly? When can it be used instead of being useful? I use the land acknowledgement.  Today was the first day of class. I said it all day because I'm teaching a Native American Art class and I'm also teaching a class on Art and Justice--the arts ability to enact change. Part of that educational process is about helping students identify literally where they stand in space and the position that they are afforded socially because of their kind of positionality, but then also their emplacement. Those were two really different [examples]. They're hurtful. I regret it. Then they're also useful. I would say it's contextual.

 

[AJ] It sounds like ultimately, you're seeing it as an education opportunity, as a way to reorient. That's very profound--being reoriented in a space physically, conceptually, cosmologically to understand the relationships between land and humans and non-humans.

 

[RP] Yeah, I guess I am seeing it as a tool and depending on who's using that tool, it could become a weapon. I think that, at least for the kinds of classes that I'm interested in teaching, the kinds of stories that I'm interested in telling, it has to start by reorienting yourself in relationship, or your student in relationship, to the place that they inhabit. I mean “inhabitation” on many different kinds of registers.

 

[AJ] It seems like, from what Marisa was saying, that reorientation--that understanding of white supremacy and how it's built into the foundation of our institutions and governments--that work needs to be done first. The acknowledgement is sort of this like an ending statement. Maybe we can come up with something better. It's the hard work that needs to be done. I just want to say in conclusion, we've run a little bit over, but you three are doing such hard work and it is so inspiring and so wonderful for all of us to hear from you today, to hear your ideas and experiences. Thank you for sharing that.

 

We have more questions. I want to say to the listeners that this will be posted online. It's going to be transcribed. We can share resources. If any of you out there want to share resources, we can also share those through Amplify Arts’ website.

 

[RP] Can I say something--one more thing? There was a question in the questions that was asking how we can make land acknowledgements non-performative. I had this kind of imagining. Land acknowledgments are purposely written in this vague sense of time. There is no “Chicago is the homeland or is the territory or it belongs, or the Three Tribes Confederacy rather, belongs to this land that is called Chicago.” I'm also wondering how there is this vagueness of language and the way that is elliptical in time that, like as Steve was saying, that puts Native Americans in a sort of extinction past myth and if they could be recuperated to have a more active reclaiming through language. Could a land acknowledgement become a speech act in the way that it is setting forth a position that makes possible in an imaginary the idea that this thing will actually be. I'll just say Three Tribes Confederacy because I'm in Chicago. That is a grammatical tool and I'm wondering if there's any potentiality in that. Sorry to interrupt. Thank you.

 

[AJ] Totally. That's a great thought. I think there completely is. Even hearing the statement of ‘land we currently call Nebraska’ implies that there is a moment when it won't be called Nebraska and I really like that instead of land that was once Umóⁿhoⁿ land. We're currently calling it this, but there is this forward looking to the future for a time when it won't be called that.

 

[MCC] I just want to touch base really quick on something Steve said that I wanted to talk about earlier when he talked about our migrations and things happening and those were what we call creation stories. They might not have been the Creation Story, but they were creation stories. Umóⁿhoⁿ means “the people who went upstream.” It refers to a moment in time when the Dhegiha group of five tribes was crossing the Mississippi. Some of us went up, which was to become the Umóⁿhoⁿ / Ponca, because the Ponca and Umóⁿhoⁿ were still one at that time, and the ones that went down were the Quapaw, the Osage, and the Kaw, which are now down in Oklahoma, but were just a little bit south of where we are now. The current change took them down. Sometimes you'll hear people say, “against the current,” you know, “Umóⁿhoⁿ--against the current.” That was a creation story. We were not Umóⁿhoⁿ until that moment in time. We were something else and that something else makes us relatives, sisters to those other four groups of people. To this day, Umóⁿhoⁿ and Ponca, we speak the same language. So it's really, what were we before that? That's my nerdy self. That's what I do research on is who were we before that. Where were we before that? What were we doing before that? I think of the Mdewakanton people that live in what they call Bde Maka Ska, this area. In their creation story, they came up from a lake in this area. This is the creation of that group of people and how important, how much a part of their spirit, heart that lake is to them. To reclaim a lake, especially in an urban metro area, that was formerly called Lake Calhoun, to reclaim that and call it what they called it before all of this pain and trauma happened is healing.

 

That is a form of reparation that I had talked about. Somebody asked, “What leverage do we really have to do reparations?” Well, that's something you have to talk about because if you start listening to Native people tell you what would mean something to them, those types of stories will unfold. In this case, there were some really amazing Dakota women who led that charge--intelligent, amazing, traditional, articulate, highly educated women. They really made the rest of us sit there in awe and watch this and say, “Oh my gosh, this can happen. Something none of us thought could happen, they did it.” It opened this doorway to possibilities and so we don't know what can possibly happen until we start having these discussions, until we start having these really uncomfortable and sometimes painful conversations about white supremacy and the damage that it's done generationally to people. Then, what those people say themselves will help heal those wounds. They won't heal completely, but it'll make us have something to be proud of. I just wanted to say that much because it fed into what we were talking about. It's just a really beautiful thing every time I go to the lake here. I took the kids and told them the story, you know, “This is what happened here. This is the space where this happened.” These women, we don't give them enough credit for what they did.

 

[AJ] Awesome. I love it. Conversation and possibilities. Talk about futures. Instead of the most immediate performance, talk about possibilities. Steve, do you have any closing words? Risa and Marisa, do you have more to say? 

 

[ST] I could go on forever. Just to add to Marisa's [point], understanding the relationships of our Northern Poncas and Umóⁿhoⁿ people today. I even hear them identify themselves as osní. Osní means cold. I've also heard usní so u and then sní and then po and then ka, I can totally break that down. Understanding the Lakȟóta and Dakȟóta dialects, understanding this language base of similarities means that we are related. Understanding that Dhegiha and the Kaws and the Quapaw and the Osage, I understand what that truly means.

 

Our Northern Ponca relatives, if you break it down into usní, it means that “we're not coming back.” When they separated, that totally makes sense and po to us is a command from a male. Ka means that that male was an elder. So, some older gentlemen stood up and said, “U-Sní-Po-ka,” and then they just left. I was like, “this totally makes sense,” because how many of our relatives have just left and we never see them again? So 1750s, give or take, is when they split and divided. The similarities are there linguistically and it's a beautiful thing. I am so happy and honored to be part of the Umóⁿhoⁿ community because my first Indigenous cultural bearer teachers were Umóⁿhoⁿ. That's how special that is to me. That knowledge I carry everywhere because of how strict they run the huthunga, that circle, that čhaŋgléška. That's how special it is to me. My research will take me this way and then, all of a sudden take me this way, just like our conversation this evening. I am honored, I'm privileged to be a part of this panel and be amongst our leaders, who are our wíŋyaŋ, who are our women. That's how powerful that is. For those of you don't know, the women led the charge at Standing Rock and that's how beautiful that is. The last thing I want to add is we never say goodbye. That doesn't exist in our language. We say, tókša akhé waƞčhíyaƞkiƞ kte or “until we meet again,” either here on uŋčí makȟá or up as our spirit track takes us. So I'm really happy. Annika, it's always a pleasure to be around you, to hear you, and all of you ladies here, pilámaya, wíbthahaⁿ, pininigagi, muchas gracias, however you want to say that. I want to say thank you, so thanks!

 

[RP] I also just want to say thank you so much. It's been really wonderful listening to Marisa, to Steve. Thank you, Annika for your probing questions. Thank you, Peter and Amplify Arts for hosting us. It's been a real joy and an honor to get to be in conversation with all of you.

 

[AJ] Well thank you! Maybe someday we'll do a round two. I always feel like we just get going in the conversation. Yes. Thank you, all three of you. Continue to be well, be safe, keep doing the good work that you're doing. You are all very inspiring. Thank you everyone for joining us tonight. I see that people are leaving wonderful comments. Thank you, the three of you, and have a good night!

 

 

*This transcript has been edited for clarity.


About the Panelists:

Marisa Miakonda Cummings: Marisa Cummings (Miakonda) is Umóⁿhoⁿ and belongs to the Buffalo Tail Clan of the Sky people as well as the Walker and Springer families. She is a relative to many and is constantly re-learning language, seed keeping, food systems, and re-building relationships with human and non-human relatives. She has worked in higher education for over 15 years and is dedicated to indigenous models of governance, education, food systems, ceremonies, and sovereignty.  She studies and teaches knowledge rooted in matriarchy and advocates for dismantling systems of oppression that impact our Native communities, including resource extraction and personal violence. Currently, Marisa is the president and CEO of the Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center in Minneapolis, MN. 


Marisa holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree in American Studies from the University of Iowa and a certificate in American Indian/Native Studies and a minor in African American World Studies.  She recently earned her Masters in Tribal Administration and Governance from the University of Minnesota Duluth.  Prior to her work at the Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center, Marisa served as the Director of Native Student Services at the University of South Dakota.  She has also served as the Chief of Tribal Operations for the Omaha Tribe of Nebraska and Iowa.


Risa Puleo: Risa Puleo researches the entanglement between the Americas and Europe during the early modern period with a focus on how indigenous American objects and people were important to the formation of the Wunderkammer and Early Modern Museum through their collection as objects of wonder, scrutiny, spectacle, and study. Risa came to the early modern period after working as a curator of contemporary art. Her interests include sites of presentation, mechanisms of display, patronage, collection, the formation of institutions of art and empire, and the parallel development of the museum, prison, zoo, library, hospital, university, and museum.


Risa's writing has been published in Art21 magazine, Art in America, Art Asia Pacific, ArtLies, ArtPapers, Glasstire, Hyperallergic, and Modern Painters, among others. She has curated exhibitions at The Blanton Museum of Art, The University of Texas at Austin, where she was Assistant Curator of Contemporary Art; Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts, Omaha; Charlotte Street Foundation, Kansas City; ArtPace, A Foundation for Contemporary Art, San Antonio. Her exhibition Walls Turned Sideways: Artists Confront the American Justice System, opening at the Contemporary Arts Museum in Houston in August of 2018, is founded on her research into the museum and prison as sister institutions developing from the same cultural logic.


Steve Tamayo: Steve Tamayo draws upon his family history as a member of the Sicangu Lakota tribe. His fine arts education (BFA from Sinte Gleska University), along with his cultural upbringing, have shaped him as an artist, historian, storyteller and dancer. Steve provides activities during his residencies that include art and regalia making, drumming, powwow dance demonstrations and lectures on the history, symbolism and meaning behind the Native customs and traditions.  


Steve has considerable experience developing curricula and teaching both youth and adults, including work with the Native American Advocacy Program of South Dakota, Omaha Public Schools, Minnesota Humanities Council and Metropolitan Community College of Omaha. He also leads groups of students and teachers on cultural excursions on the Rosebud reservation, introducing them to the rich culture and way of life that is slowly being revived among native communities. He is a past Governor’s Heritage Art Award recipient, an honor bestowed for his contributions in the arts and Native American culture.  


Tamayo has had work exhibited at The National Museum of the American Indian, in Washington, DC, The Kaneko in Omaha, NE, The Great Plains Museum in Lincoln, NE, RNG Gallery in Council Bluffs, IA. His most recent work included painting buffalo robes and set design for Willie Nelson and Neil Young on the occasion of their concert for Bold Nebraska in Neligh, NE. 

About the Moderator:


Annika Johnson: Annika Johnson is Associate Curator of Native American Art at the Joslyn Art Museum where she is developing installations, programming, and research initiatives in collaboration with Indigenous communities. Her research and curatorial projects examine nineteenth-century Native American art and exchange with Euro-Americans, as well as contemporary artistic and activist engagements with the histories and ongoing processes of colonization. Annika received her PhD in art history from the University of Pittsburgh in 2019 and grew up in Minnesota, Dakota homelands called Mni Sota Makoce.


 
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