“Volcano Woman”
10"h. Tom and Linda Harris collection. Carved from alder. Represents the Volcano Woman from the legend by the same name, of which there are several versions recorded in publications such as Marius Barbeau’s, Totem Poles, volumes 1 and 2 and Franz Boas’s Tsimshian Mythology, as well as others.

The basic gist of the story involves three brothers who are on a hunting trip in their canoe on the Nass river. They camp one night and while sitting by the fire, a frog hopped in front of one of the brothers, who is angered by the incident, picks up the frog and throws it into the fire. At that moment they saw a glow on a distant mountain, accompanied by rumbling and a woman's voice crying, “Why are you mistreating my children?”

This happened every night, the boy cursing and throwing a frog into the fire and the woman’s pleading growing more emphatic. Each night they grew nearer to the mountain. On the fourth night when the brother threw a frog into the fire, the top of the mountain spewed forth a great flame and the woman rose up wailing from the center of it, with tears of lava flowing from her eyes. It was a tremendous volcanic eruption and there is geologic evidence of this actually happening. There is a wide expanse of volcanic basalt on the upper Nass river, and the Native people there claim that there were no frogs in that area before the events in the story.

“Laughing Shaman”
16"h. Private collection. Carved from alder, decorated with horse hair and shredded cedar bark.

I had just felled a huge alder tree and was really in the mood to carve something large. As chance would have it, Roland Crawford was planning a show entitled “Laughing Faces” for his Objects of Bright Pride gallery in New York and invited me to participate. So, I cut a nice, fat, clear section of wonderful fresh alder and began shaping. One probably needs to be a carver to appreciate the joy of working in material like this with well-made, sharp tools.

I decided to make a shaman. People generally picture shamans as fearsome. I wanted mine to be one that could step out of his role for a while and have the kind of good time I was having in creating him. This one was just for fun and it became a chance to study people with fleshy faces. I often enjoy giving my masks a more natural character, although, at the same time this particular piece smacks stylistically of the Bella Coola region.

At the time, my studio was in the basement of my home. The door was on the south wall and on nice days I would sometimes work just outside. Every day for some time a pair of red tail hawks would come circling over the house, often quite low. One day, hoping to photograph them, I brought out my camera and kept it beside me. Just like clock-work, they arrived at noon. I heard the familiar shriek and looked up, camera in hand. Just as I saw them they circled into the glare of the sun. They continued to issue their call, but I never saw them again. Then I heard the call again, but it was behind me. I turned around and about fifteen feet away and about as far from the ground, in a small cedar tree sat a Stellars Jay making that call, a perfect imitation. I thought I was experiencing an apparition. I said to myself, “cool”.

A few days later I happened to be reading Tony Angell's Ravens, Crows, Magpies and Jays. My bubble burst when I came upon the section where he described how Stellars Jays like to imitate Red Tail Hawks, among other things. Experiences like this might well have been what led to many traditional Northwest Coast native legends involving transformation.

Salish style art has been somewhat overlooked during the "revival" of Northwest Coast Native Art in this century. There have been a few artists attempting to bring it to the fore, including Susan Point. I have taught a few classes in this form and I enjoy working with it, incorporating it when I can persuade a client of its charm. This client wanted the representation of a moon, and other than that she was not specific. I thought of calling it “Spawning Moon” in which a circle of low-relief salmon would ring the corona. Then I reasoned that the spawning season has an effect on all creatures, not only salmon. Represented on the moon’s corona are a killer whale, heron, frog, fox, rabbit, hawk, jay, owl, and a few salmon and trout.

In recognition for his generous sharing of information, I carved this portrait mask and impersonated him at a party at his home. As a result of this he persuaded me to wear the mask and do impersonations for his classes at the University of Washington. When Bill retired from his teaching position I curtailed the use of the mask in public. It will eventually be housed in the Burke Museum as part of its collection.

Halait is a Git’ksan word that is loosely translated in literature as ‘shaman’, a somewhat ambiguous term that is generally thought of as a “medicine man”. A swansk halait is a title of one who has the role of a healer.

During winter ceremonies house chiefs are halaits and the village chief is a wi- halait, or great halait and is, to put it simply, the director of the ceremony. At these times they may conduct the healing of an individual. They can also sing, do masked performances, and perform magic. Some of this is extremely serious and some is designed for entertainment.

One translation of the word halait that I was given years ago when I worked in the Gitk’san area of northern B.C. is “more than knowing”. In other words, the halait is one who understands the workings of the cosmos and is in tune with the ways of the spiritual as well as the natural world. People consult with a halait in matters regarding personal health, relationships, weather, food resources, and any number of concerns. A halait is also usually present when a canoe goes off to war.

I think Mountain Goats are one of the most majestic of animals. I’ve seen them on hiking trips in the Olympic Mountains, although only from a distance. I’ve had fantasies of waking in the morning to find one in human form peering into my tent, saying, “What are you doing on my mountain?”

In the early summer mountain goats rub their flanks against the rocks and bushes to get rid of their fleece. Natives of the Northwest Coast would go into the mountains to gather the wool to use in the weaving of Ravenstail and Chilkat dancing robes. They were also hunted for their meat and the horns were made into spoons. The Gitk'san claim that the best drums are made with mountain goat hide. I attended a potlatch on the Skeena river and dined on a fantastic mountain goat stew.

During winter ceremonies the Natives of the Northwest Coast performed with some pretty emazing works involving sleight of hand, puppetry, and articulated masterpieces with which to awe their audience. Pieces like this are a challenge to the creative mind.

"Thunderbird and Killer Whale" First Stage

"Thunderbird and Killer Whale" Second Stage

The story tells of a famine in a village in which lived a boy who was taken far away to the village of the salmon by men in a canoe. He was adopted by the chief and schooled in all the ways of salmon. After some time, the boy was told that it was time for them all to return to the boy’s village. All the people left in canoes, but as they neared the boy's village all the people turned into salmon and the boy found himself in the body of the salmon chief. The shaman of the boy’s village caught the salmon chief in a net. In cleaning the giant salmon, the shaman discovered the boy who had been missing.

The boy taught his people to respect the salmon and place the bones of this first catch back in the river, to ensure the return of salmon in the future. Representations are the shaman from the story, small salmon swimming around a corona of water, the Salmon Chief, and the prince who is inside him.

"The Prince and the Salmon People" Shaman detail

For a while I kept a small flock of Aracauna chickens. They lay blue-green eggs and have very interesting feathering. The coloring on each of mine was unique and I took advantage of this fact, embellishing some of my masks with their feathers.

My home is situated in a rural area surrounded by forest. Late one night, my apprentice and I were working on a totem pole outside, under a plastic tarp. All of a sudden we heard a blood-curdling scream. We ran out from under the tarp, and assuming that a woman was being stabbed to death down by the road, we searched with the aid of a flashlight in that direction and found nothing. We heard the scream again and it seemed to be coming from above us. Directing the beam from the flashlight high into the trees, we discovered a Great Horned Owl, high up on a branch manteling my prize layer and ripping at her throat with his beak. I guess what we had heard was the hen's death song.