I never imagined I would make the work that I do today as a career. In my childhood being an artist was the butt of many jokes from teachers and it made me want to never be one. I would still admire the work of my great grandmother and her oil paintings in the houses of our family. Her small model carvings, The rattles and culture items I maybe took for granted because I didn’t know we were different that other people.
Her name was Faye Bosshart. As I gained my ranks up the ladder many people assume I learned from something handed down in training. My grandfather, my father etc. This isn’t so because of the Indian relocation act and many policies imposed on our people.
I put that away for years until it I shaped it into making music with friends. It subsided my calling but as calling does it pulls you in. In the time I met people early on there was bragging rights about slavery and our Salish lands against us. To them it was a joke but to me it was something I kept to myself and that it was nothing to do with brag about. I was consoled by my Auntie Jen at that time and she said “they ride on the wake of their ancestors but they don’t know what that means to them” Today I am rewarded that the tide has turned on knowing what is right against wrong.
I can’t say I’ve had a hard life, I’ve been sheltered and reflect on how good this life is. In art and music there is an ever long internal battle of what is good enough, putting work out for people to judge your ideas and without context they are empty. I have great respect for my peers and those before me who forged a path that gave me a leg to stand on.
Where the lightning reaches the water and the clouds break a new day dawns.
Not all songs are tuned to a beat that is not our own. It took years for me to find this song from a cousin who started to teach me language and give me a window into a world I was part of and didn’t understand.
from deep inside I felt Lummi in my heart when I heard this.
The work of of our people is not forgotten but felt by this land. From far reaches I know song and what moves me. I can say with all honesty I would have no name if it weren’t for M. Alexander. Enduring war in real life not in a game. Sent to a war he didn’t ask for but went into for defending lands of our people when he was just a boy and came back transformed like the Changer. Nothing he asked for but in my heart from my grandmother I feel his love for the people and it keeps me going. I accept I may not be a musician but I can sing.
In the rage of NFTs I’m compelled to say something about this. I want people to know our culture is NFS, not for sale. If you buy my art that is one thing but dancing a blanket or wearing paint, that is no joke.
I tried for a while to wrap my head around why headdress bothered me so much. It is because it made our culture into a joke or fodder. It reminded me of In the Absence of the Sacred
things I learned from my elders that are now in favor about connecting to the earth. My cousin shared good words with me to remind me that as Natives here we shelter the ones who are well off and need to look to the ones who need direction.
My arms can reach only so far but for the lost, my life and devotion is and always has been for recognitzing these overlaps of our people not our differences.
Our people wared once before but we are in the same canoe now thee days. I don’t know my language as much as I would like but I know enough. In this my heart is true. I’ve learned not to judge my limited view of people from this from far reaches of the people I am blessed to have met on this journey.
Most importantly, Reuben Wright Jr. and Charlie Cantrell.
Deep fans of Pearl Jam know Mother Love Bone
When I carved the story pole I made for Chief Leschi at long stretches of being nocturnal his song came on. Maybe an animal walked in that barn but all the same it kept me going. It was necessary at that time. A needle in my thread, there to teach me something I took for granted.
I had envy for my peer Jeff and had now idea what would befall him. He has been nothing but kind to me. I know I can’t reach to him but in my heart I pray. I want him to get back up and make a Godzilla for my family because it’s not what I do but he can. Like the wolves I looked up to from Tsa-qwa-supp I am in this toil and it hurts me to know this is something I can do nothing. I love you brother and I want you to make art again.
far reaches of what I can give my hand is on your head, my hand is in yours.
Hold on brother, I am far removed from you but you were there for me when I needed inspiration and positivity.
In this in between you are I feel your intention and know how much you move people with your work. We are not blood but you are in my heart. You said once you were no Picasso but I love that work inside you more than you know.
Our heroes are gone, the time before us is not written but this image made me rethink how I make art. Eventually I can make art we talked about. No Picasso but you I earn this fire from your hands and devotion to loving our people and I want a song to be with you when you come out of this. I imitate these songs and give the best I can to sing these things. This told we find ourselves I wish I could pick you ups and dust you off. All I can do is sing this song for you in this time of darkness I hope you hear me.
You break the forth wall with me and my emotions wash over for heroes we have. I want you to get out of the be who you wanted to.
Jeff in the best light
from my brothers heat, I want you to wake up and be here as you were. Push this fire forward.