AC Interview | Lydia Cheshewalla

*Lydia Cheshewalla at the Tallgrass Artist Residency in Matfield Green, KS. Photo by Jessica Price.*

We recently sat down with artist, organizer, and member of the Osage Nation, Lydia Cheshewalla to talk about how she approaches relationships in her highly collaborative practice using curiosity, reciprocity, and consent as guides. She goes on to discuss how those same principles frame emerging paradigms for cultural engagement outside the institution. Listen below or, if you’re on the go, visit Amplify’s Anchor page to listen on your favorite podcasting service.

Transcription

Interviewer: Peter Fankhauser

Interviewee: Lydia Cheshewalla

Date of Interview: June 24th, 2021

List of Acronyms: LC = Lydia Cheshewalla; PF = Peter Fankhauser

[PF] Hello and welcome, Lydia! So happy to talk with you today and thank you for spending some time with us. Would you mind telling us more about yourself and your background

[LC] Yeah, the artist bio I've been throwing out lately is I'm a transdisciplinary artist that comes from Oklahoma, but I'm currently living and working across the prairie lands of Middle America. Really, what that means for me, is that over the past, since maybe like 2019--how many years is that; what year are we in--since 2018, or even before, I guess. But really, 2019 is the year that I started traveling, I should say. That's when I got to take my first look at a prairie outside of the state of Oklahoma. And it sparked this excitement and joy about how similar, yet different prairie ecosystems are. That's what I mean when I say that I'm traveling through the middle of America. I'm really looking to research prairie.

I come from Pawhuska, Oklahoma originally, even though I say Tulsa a lot. I'm Osage, and that's where my tribal nation is located. That's one of the districts that we're located in. But I'm also Cherokee, Dakota, Modoc, Chicana. I'm a blending of a lot of things. I think something I also tend to put in my bios is that I'm working on becoming, because I really feel like life is this great and beautiful process, and I don't know how to separate art from that. I think art should also be a process or is a process. So yeah, working on becoming. And I'm here now in Nebraska. This will be the fourth prairie I've visited. I was lucky enough to get to visit Matfield Green through the Tallgrass Artist Residency in Kansas last year during the pandemic, because it's a very isolated place. Now I'm in Nebraska, checking out the prairie here.

[PF] That's incredible. What is it about the prairie specifically that is generative for your practice?

[LC] I think it’s the familiarity of it, in some ways. Being raised so close to it, it was a place that I visited both with my family, but also through school in Pawhuska. I went to school there starting in sixth grade and immediately, one of the projects that we had was we got put in these little quad groups. They basically loaded us up on a bus, shuttled us to the middle of the Tallgrass Prairie preserve in Pawhuska, opened the doors, and then just set us free. They were like, “Go find a quadrant of land and rope it off and then draw what you see on your square.” So, we had a big poster board and each of us had to draw what we observed on our section of the poster board of. Then, they had us go back over multiple seasons and do that same thing. I think that was a really early introduction to scientific method and close looking and all these things. I think I'm really passionate just because I've been around it for so long and I've gotten to see it in all these different lenses.

I think that there's a deep lineage as well because the Osage, even prior to us being called the Osage, we were part of an Indigenous group of people that really formed the prairie in North America. The prairie is actually a manmade ecosystem. It's made through the repeated and intentional application of fire to land. And this was done for multiple reasons--for clearing out forests, for making lines of sight, for bringing in new game, and also, just the balance of ecosystems--what you want it to grow and how you want it to grow. I'm fascinated by this deep story of the prairie and how it came to be.

I'm also deeply interested in its modern-day relevance, especially in regard to climate change. The prairie has roots that go six feet deep. It acts as a really beautiful and excellent carbon sink. It sequesters carbon, I believe, at a greater rate than even forests. That's really interesting to me because in the kind of mainstream discussion about climate change, it's really all about saving the forests. And absolutely, we need to save the forests, especially our old growth forests that have been around for a very long time. But I think there's a misconception, perhaps, about what kind of ecosystems we need to offset climate change. So, I think the prairie is really generative because it's holding all these different aspects. It's holding a deep past, hopefully a very deep future, and it's holding a crucial place in the present.

I'm interested in the relationships that are present there; these really complex, interdependent relationships. There are things that happen on the prairie that literally can't happen anywhere else. There are things that exist on the prairie that are emergent species that have never existed anywhere else and won't exist anywhere else. The whole prairie ecosystem which runs along the Flint Hills, or the Osage Hills, however people wish to refer to them, is a migratory corridor. If we lose even a section of it, we risk collapsing whole migration patterns for not just birds, but for our pollinators. There's so much happening there in a part of the country where people think nothing happens. It's this really funny, interesting place that's always renewing, always changing. I find that to be really beautiful. I think it's a perfect microcosm, in a way, of how I view the world.

[PF] You brought up that word, relationship. I feel like relationships, in a lot of ways, frame much of your practice. Your relationships with human beings, your relationships with non-human beings, other-than-human beings, more-than-human beings move your practice forward in different ways. Will you talk about relationships a little more as they relate to your practice--your relationships with your collaborators and how you sustain them, how you steward them, and maybe what happens if those relationships change or, or come to an end?

[LC] I think all relationships begin with curiosity--whatever that thing is that makes us want to know about someone else, or about something else, and take the time to look and ask questions and investigate. I think relationships also really begin in a listening place. I tend to try and form my relationships with all beings in that way to really put forward my curiosity and to be excited to learn and find an understanding so that I know how to interact with this other entity. Definitely when working with non-human, more-than-human, other beings, plant kin, mineral kin, I'm really thinking about this deep time, especially with geology. The things on this planet have been here for so much longer than we have. I feel like, when interacting with nature, there's a level of humility to be had.

I was recently in Colorado and the ongoing joke was, “Wow, that shit’s Precambrian.” It's like, “No, but it really is!” And what that means is that this is tens of thousands of years old. It’s seen the world be things I can't even imagine. And it will continue to see the world be things long after me. So, I think a type of reverence, I think a type of respect too, but again, I think that can probably be said of all beings. Human beings seem to exist in these small singular moments, but I also believe in the laws of conservation. You know, you exist in this particular arrangement in a short moment, but you're also part of all this stuff that's been around for forever. It's easy, I think, in that kind of frame of mind to have deep reverence and respect for everybody you come across.

I think that's how those relationships start, and I think that they are sustained through staying in that stance of curiosity, staying in that stance of reference. I think we really do ourselves a disservice when we believe we know something or know somebody. One of the universe's great jokes is the minute you think you know something, everything changes. But I also think that's a really great thing, and it does allow for relationships to continue to grow and continue to evolve.

I think as far as relationships coming to an end, or changing, I find that to be inevitable. The cool thing about endings is that they're always beginnings as well. Even if you're really thinking, “Oh, this relationship has ended,” perhaps it has ended, or perhaps you've just begun a new form of that relationship. Sometimes, especially when we're dealing with interpersonal or human-to-human relationships, that can be a scary place because we're afraid that we won't ever see them again and that probably has to do with our short lifespans. But I also believe that we are constantly changing and that, like nature, we go through periods of rest or needing to withdraw. I love to use a braided river metaphor. Rivers braid. They split off from themselves and at times, it seems like we're separate from one another, but we're really not. We just perhaps can't see far enough to when the joining happens again. And maybe it really does go off and become its own little tributary over there, but it doesn't change the fact that we started, and end, as one body of water.

So, that's how I tend to think about those relationships. Relationships really matter to me in my work because I don't believe in individualism. It’s been sold to us as a really pretty idea and I think it's a really easy trap, but you look around at everything and you can see that it's not true. I live in a house, and I didn't build a single bit of it, but no person did. A lot of people built this house. And that again, I think is a good metaphor for the world. The reason humanity has been able to push outside of a food chain that exists so very really on our planet is because we cooperate and collaborate on skills that are almost unbelievable. Relationships really matter to me because what where would we be without them? I'm nothing without the people around me. And I think all of my best work happens when I'm working with other people. And it's more fun that way. It's just a better time.

[PF] That was a really beautiful metaphor, that metaphor of braided rivers. You talked a little bit about the set of ethical relations with which you approach these collaborations. You talked about learning and curiosity, reverence, reciprocity. Are there other factors that define those ethical relations before you enter into a collaborative relationship, whether it's with a person, or a prairie, plant kin, mineral kin, like you mentioned?

[LC] I definitely also, in a really a strong way, center consent and capacity. I think we live in a world where we're used to telling people what to do and people are used to just doing those things. I think things are shifting, so that’s really nice. In the relationships that I've had, especially the artistic ones, for instance, in a collective that I had in Tulsa, it was really about what people wanted to do and what people had the space for. It was really important to me, especially because in our collective we had so many mothers, to be aware of what it means for people who have a lot going on, who have literal whole lives they're supporting. So, I believe in that consent. I believe in checking in with people on their capacity. I believe in not having expectations at all, if that's possible. I know you need a little bit so that things get done, but there's this fine line between having enough push to get things done and making sure that push is actually mutually beneficial--the beneficial disturbance.

That's kind of like a prairie fire, right? It's like we're putting just enough pressure on so that all this beautiful stuff is allowed to happen, but we don't destroy the ecosystem forever. We don't stop it from growing again. I feel that way. It's finding that balance of what is mutually beneficial for people. How much can they push each other and encourage each other, and team climb together? And how do you have sensitivity to an imbalance, or when somebody doesn't want to climb and they just need time to rest, or when they do want to climb, but they're not strong enough and need to pulled. When you yourself are also in that position, how do you communicate those things? I really feel like that communication is important and for there to be good communication, there also has to be a level of vulnerability.

Vulnerability is something that can be hard to access because we are taught to not show that we're weak or needing of other people. But honestly, I just want to know other people's weaknesses. I want to be able to share mine because I want to know who's got this part, because maybe I don't. And what part can I grab because you don't? I think things work more efficiently when you let people do what they're good at, as opposed to trying to force them to fit in boxes, or do things that are unpleasurable to them, or force them into uneven power dynamics. That's something I've really had to consider, especially being an artist, is that there are times and places where I can walk into spaces and people assume my authority, and then I have to communicate my way back out of that. I'm not. We all are.

Decentralizing power is something that's really interesting for me to consider in relationships and how to make it more like a covalent muse situation, as opposed to I’m delegating, or I'm saying. Again, I think there are times when those methods of working really do work. I've found myself in those positions where I'm like, “Okay, somebody's got to grab it by the horns.” But ultimately, the way that I like to be in relationship, is that really beautiful form of collaboration where it couldn't be anything without the people involved. No one person could have done that alone. So, I am really for all of the things that create that—vulnerability, communication, respect for capacity, respect for consent, checking in with people, curiosity, and also allowance and letting things be the way they are, free from your expectations.

[PF] I appreciate that you brought up the idea of power dynamics to and what happens when an imbalance in those dynamics exists. Circling back to that idea of beneficial disturbance, which is another term I really love. When you're working with institutions, how are relationships between yourself as an artist and an institution that's asking you to show your work informed by beneficial disturbance?

[LC] To be honest, I actually don't really show my work often in institutions. The way I came to art was using it for my own mental health through much of my childhood. I think a lot of artists come to art that way and I think that's deeply true for me as well. Then, I kind of rejected art. I was like, “I'm not going to do art, this isn't for me. I'm getting to go be an accountant.” And I did enter college as a double business major in accounting and international business, finance. Then I went into ethics, and then I went into philosophy, and then I ended up in the art school. And when I was in the art school, even though I was in the studio art program, my goal was not to be a career artist. I wanted to have an institution. I wanted to be a nonprofit but I felt it was really important to enter through the portal of being an artist because something I had already noticed, not even with art institutions, but just like the institution of college, was that it was a place that assumed it already knew what the people coming to it needed. It wasn't a space that could be responsive to shifting meaning.

As much as I loved art, I realized what I really loved about art was artists. I loved seeing work that people put into the world that caused something to move inside of me. And so, I was like, “I'm going to make a place where those kinds of people can gather. But what is that then? Let me go get in community.” So, I entered the art school and was an art student hanging out with other art students, doing art things, and having to think like an artist and make projects on deadlines. It was eye-opening. I was realizing that there were all these things we're supposed to know how to do as artists, and no one is telling us. Also, if I want to be an institution, I need to be the kind of institution that knows how to tell people these are all the things you're going to come up against and I want to help you navigate them.

And then I did go work for an arts nonprofit. In fact, I worked for several museums and several arts nonprofits over a decade of my life before I decided I didn’t want to be a desk jockey. It seems like maybe being an artist is more fun. I think having been on the inside of institutions in that way, there still was an aversion to being an artist working with them. I wasn't sure if I needed to, if that makes sense. I wasn't sure if I was ready to. I think, for a long time, I struggled with giving myself permission to say what I wanted to say. When I started getting to the space where I knew what it was I wanted to say, or the things that I wanted to draw attention to, I realized that I didn't need the institution for that. It seemed like, why rely on the people who are already not doing the thing that is so obvious? I think in doing that, it drew the attention of the institution. And then there was a little bit more of a desire to collaborate.

In my personal experiences with the institution, they really vary depending on who, within the institution, you're working with. Sometimes it's a little difficult to talk about institutions in this way that removes identity. Because an institution, in my opinion, is this larger thing. They say it's slower and it's harder to pivot because it's a lot of people, but to me that's kind of the point. It's a lot of people. Those are people in there. Those are human beings, who also have feelings, and who you form relationships with. And so really, it's just finding the people in institutions that you can have good relationships with and that's not going to be everybody in an institution.

I think the way that I've chosen to work with institutions is to not work with institutions, but to work with individuals within institutions—the ones that I like, the ones that are fun and nice and excited and perhaps in better positionality to take certain risks. But I think I do have an expectation of individuals who have chosen to be in institutions, because it's still a choice to enter into that arena and to take responsibility for your community in that way. Something that I tend to bring up whenever I have a chance with institutions is the idea of corporate social responsibility. That term seems to get straight to the business folks. You know, I'm not going to tell you to be nice to the BIPOC members of your community, but I am going to throw out a legal term that maybe makes more sense to you, which is that you actually have responsibility, legally, to respond to the needs of your community. So, yeah, when working with institutions, I tend to work with people who are in institutions.

[PF] That's a great way to frame it, whether it's a public institution, like a university, or a private nonprofit, like an arts or cultural institution. Would you define your approach as anti-institutional, or as a more flexible working approach?

[LC] This is something I've come to realize. Perhaps I'm inflexible. It's impossible for me to want to work with people who aren’t open to other perspectives. I think it's because I center curiosity and I center communication and this willingness to learn and this willingness to listen. When I come up against anything, anybody, any institution that is stagnant, that’s unwilling to know that I am not white, and I don't come from dominant belief systems, that I come from belief systems based in a long, deep sense of reciprocal giving both forwards and backwards (because time is not linear), when I'm coming from such a different perspective and people are closed off to it, then I know immediately those probably aren't people I want to work with. I don't feel anti-institutional by any means. I just feel like I have no interest in institutions that are not open to learning. That's my inflexibility. Only flexible people, please.

I definitely don't feel like it's anti-institutional, though I know that it has been interpreted that way before, which is also not interesting to me. I think that it can be really hard to work with any type of structure that is rooted in capitalism on anything that is inherently non-dominant culture driven belief systems, on anything that is based in gift ecology, on anything that asks for collective ownership. And I think it’s because that is the only way for institutions to exist currently, because money is real. Even though it's a concept, it also creates tangible outcomes. I think about that a lot. Am I asking for the institution to completely vanish in asking for it to become more flexible? I'm not certain.

I think what I'm looking for, as far as what I hope the institution is, or will be, or can become, is probably emerging from something different than what they originally emerged from. You know, from an indigenous perspective, I think about what a lot of the museums here have meant for my culture and how they were created. Several museums were created literally in tandem with the genocide of Indigenous peoples to then safeguard the memory of the peoples they were actively killing. I'm like, “Okay, well I already am suss of this place.” You built this to be like, “Don't forget, as we exterminate these people, that they were once here.” So, I already am maybe not feeling comfortable in that kind of institution.

The other part is, you know, there's a long history of both universities, and museums, really all around the world, having things they shouldn't have, specifically here in North America--the literal remains of Indigenous persons. Those are our ancestors. We've been able, through the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, to get some of those remains back home. But what’s also really startling to think about when working with an institution is not just the provenance of items, but the fact that they are still there. I understand the nuance of why that is sometimes, because there's no capacity to take them back, or there's no capacity to remember the ways to put them to rest, or things like that, which of course is all really deeply tied together with colonialism.

I think it's good to, again, learn, and have an awareness of histories and where things come from and where they're rooted to then assess whether or not the growth will go in the direction you want, or if it’s good sometimes to have a beneficial disturbance and to let something new grow. I’m looking forward to what that is.

I feel like I have seen that, in the past year and a half, especially with mutual aid coming to the front and center. I think that kind of framework is a really good framework. I also think it's a necessary framework when we're thinking holistically about sustainability of the planet. Gift ecologies are really good modes of working in. An institution maybe seems too big for that. Again, there's a lot of benefit sometimes in forming up really large groups, but I also, coming from a small Tribal Nation, see a lot of benefit in having smaller groups that overlap, that are able to pivot quickly, that are able to have liminal spaces of crossover between other groups, are able to collaborate, are able to understand each other in these really special ways because they have taken the time to understand themselves. I guess I am wondering if there's a size limit on that, and if you exceed that, is it beneficial anymore

[PF] Thank you for sharing. All that was really insightful and thought provoking and terrific. Can people find you on social media? Can people find your work in other places or spaces? Is there anything you have coming up that you'd like to tell folks about?

[LC] I'm on social media, pretty much across all platforms, as good with coffee. And then, I have my website which is https://www.lydia-cheshewalla.com. Upcoming work, I am currently working on a creative field guide to Northeastern Oklahoma with a Tulsa Artist Fellow, Liz blood. That will go to print early 2022, which is crazy and exciting. And then, I've got some other stuff in the works, but it's still kind of floating. I feel like I can't give it words yet. And my ongoing research here of exploring Omaha, seeing what it's like, what the prairie is like, what the people are like, and what the art scene is like. I'm sure that will turn something out to at some point.

[PF] That's great. I'm so glad you're here and thank you for taking time to talk today.

[LC] Yeah, thank you.

Lydia Cheshewalla is an Osage artist with a passion for community, social justice, and environmental activism. Over the past four years, she has led women’s circles and co-founded the art collective Holy Mother, which served to connect, encourage, and support femme-identifying creatives in Tulsa, OK. Collaborating with artists, activists, and organizations within her community, Lydia has striven to facilitate meaningful experiences and generate inclusive narratives through thoughtful art events centering community care, systems of equitable exchange, and healing practices.

She has created and taught art curriculum to children ages 4-12 with the purpose of encouraging curiosity and understanding of our unique place within the symbiotic systems of nature. Prior to the outbreak of Covid-19, she worked as a studio assistant for multiple artists within the Tulsa Artist Fellowship and led community conversations around art as remediation and responsible activism in a time of climate change. Currently she serves on the board of PostTraditional, an organization raising the visibility of Indigenous contemporary artists; curates a project called Spatial Intimacy, a responsive archive of creative ways to stay connected in a time of physical distancing; and is creating two new bodies of work exploring non-anthropocentric interdependence within a framework of borders and pandemics.

Amplify ArtsJuly 23, 2021Comment