How contemporary Native American artists counter cultural appropriation with artistic appropriation

Google “Native American appropriation art” and the first five pages of results or so are all about negative cases of cultural appropriation. On these pages we can read about how outsiders misuse Native American images and cultural heritage, such as the infamous feathered headdress on a lingerie clad model in a Victoria’s Secret show five years ago. Cultural appropriation, of course, continues to be a problem and something that should be addressed and discussed. However, when typing in that search term I wasn’t looking for Native Americans as victims. I wanted to read about how appropriation is used as a strategy within contemporary Native American art. I was looking for Native American artists as agents of empowerment. To find such results buried under droves of articles about how Native American iconography has been mistreated must feel like a double slap in the face. First whites steal Native cultural practices and use it in a distorted way, then this act of appropriation steals the attention away from Native artists who use appropriation as a way to symbolically fight back.

This makes it very difficult to place the aesthetic tactics of many Native American artists into proper art historical perspective, which is a shame, especially considering how significant appropriation is for many Native artists. Appropriation is, after all, a genre of contemporary art that has perhaps been the most important hub for questions concerning artistic authorship and originality and the contextual relativity of the meaning of images. It is perhaps within the Native art community that the legacy of appropriation art today finds it’s firmest stronghold. At first sight it may come as a surprise to learn how popular Andy Warhol is in this community. I can tell you that it is not because of his “Cowboy and Indian series”, but rather because of how Warhol demonstrated that the specialness of a sign – for instance a Campbell’s soup can – can be emptied by the act of repetition and how the meaning of a pre-existing image or object can be altered by placing it within a new context.

Warhol himself was not a particularly political figure, but the strategy of appropriation, of “copying” images and making them your own, has a history of political uses.
Dara Birnbaum and Sherrie Levine used appropriation to feminist ends. By repeating and recontextualizing imagery by male originators they questioned the authenticity of representations of gender. Appropriation has also been employed to question the commodity value of art and its underlying economic structures.

Even before it was a genre of art, Raphael Montanez Ortiz performed a case of appropriation aimed at exposing the misrepresentation of Native Americans. In 1957 he used a Tomahawk to chop up Anthony Mann’s western Winchester ’73. He then put the pieces back together at random, resulting in a complete scrambling and disruption of the original narrative. “Ortiz considered his shaman-like process resonant with his indigenous heritage. His destructive act also criticized media depictions of Native Americans.” 

As a genre, Native American appropriation art comes across as something self-evident and completely natural. Artists are simply taking images back that were stolen from them. Artists such as Douglas Miles, Jaque Fragua, Steven Paul Judd, Ryan Singer, among many others, consider appropriation a way to take repossession of images that they have lost control over. In short, one might say that appropriation art is a means to combat cultural appropriation.

We’ve written about the importance of graffiti for contemporary Native artists many times here on the blog. In the hands of Native artists, painting with spray cans in public spaces is no petty act of vandalism but a profoundly political gesture. This is clearly demonstrated by Jaques Fragua who wrote “This Is Indian Land” in giant letters on a construction site in Downtown Los Angeles. The act of appropriation is performed in a spirit kindred to graffiti. For Native American artists it is about re-claiming what is rightfully theirs by symbolically taking back their land by illegally writing on it, or redefining images that have been made from an external point of view.

We haven’t written about Jaque Fragua on the blog before, so let’s continue on him. Besides graffiti, Fragua considers appropriation one of his artistic go-to’s. “The Big Chief” is for instance a commercial symbol that has become a recurring character throughout Fragua’s work. Fragua explains: “He’s a chief from a sign that’s near my reservation, at Big Chief Gas Station. If you’ve ever watched Breaking Bad, you’ve see that gas station. I lifted him and I’ve been putting him everywhere—he’s the Big Chief, right? When you put a mirror against another mirror, you start seeing the core of the truths.”

In another interview, Fragua explains the appeal of appropriation more in depth: ”Simply, it’s about imagery that continues to colonize us. By creating fine art out of these visuals and emphasizing the images ad nauseum, it creates the opposite effect. Sort of like Warhol’s soup cans.”  Fragua thus reappropriates his culture’s iconography in a way that conceptually subverts our overconsumption of misappropriated Native American images that has turned into stereotypes.

Some critics fear that appropriation as a artistic gesture has lost some of its meaning in a time when borrowing, quoting, stealing and copying is everyday practice to the point of being ubiquitous. However, for Native American artists, appropriation simply follows the rules of the game set by a white hegemony. It is the answer to a signifying practice already put in place. As such, appropriation is important now perhaps more than ever. With a president that casually refers to people of Native American heritage as “Pocahontas”, and a culture at large that hold it’s racial stereotypes dearly, appropriation as artistic weapon offers a way to strike back. Contemporary Native American artists turn to appropriation not to be trendy or edgy but out of urgency. It opens a line of dialogue that lets Native Americans have the last word on images that they were not in charge of in the first place and thus to let the public know what they think about them.

Further reading about cultural appropriation:

https://unsettlingamerica.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/cultural-appreciation-or-cultural-appropriation/

https://jezebel.com/5959698/a-much-needed-primer-on-cultural-appropriation 

http://nativeappropriations.com

 

About appropriation art:

https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-the-art-of-copying-ten-masters-of-appropriation

https://www.thoughtco.com/appropriation-appropriation-art-183190 

Why it’s not necessarily a good thing to be inspired by Native American art.

Ok, let’s get the title explained right off the bat. I don’t mean to be provocative. It might sound like I’m faulting Native American art here, but the accusatory weight is meant to fall on the inspired part. What I mean is that there is something reductive in the way non-natives claim that they are inspired by Native American art. It’s something that’s heard quite a lot. From Jackson Pollock to Ralph Lauren, artists and designers often cite Native American art as an influence. For fashion designers it seems particularly commonplace to go Native for a least one collection. Of course, when asked, the inspired will always assure their utmost respect and admiration. But a lot of the times one wonders if it doesn’t do more harm than good. One might argue that when someone like Ralph Lauren incorporates Navajo motifs into his designs, it raises interest in Native culture. This may very well be the case, but it also reinforces the view of Natives as a faceless group of “others”. Because it’s rarely the unique style of an individual Native artist that is cited as inspiration, it is always “Native art” en masse. Outsiders all too often seem to regard Native designs as interchangeable and all alike. This may also explain why there is a baffling lack of collaboration between the inspired and the ones who they are inspired by. Because if one fails to distinguish between different styles, I can see that it would be easy to believe that anyone can do it.
Yet, according to Lindsey M. Montgomery, collaboration is what’s required if inspiration is to generate respectful results: ”Navigating the waters between respectful reference and insensitive borrowing comes down to one thing: collaboration. Collaboration requires companies and designers to do more than simply appreciate and borrow the aesthetics of another culture. It demands they engage in an active dialogue with the particular community or artist who is inspiring the work.

It really shouldn’t be so hard to realize the benefits of collaboration. After all, designers want competent seamstresses, right? So of course they will hire the best in the game. And if you want some cracking Navajo designs, you should probably get in touch with someone who knows what they’re doing. But this very rarely happens. The much publicized court case Navajo Nation vs. Urban Outfitters offers some insight into why those inspired seldom think it necessary to go to the source for help. The story goes that the clothing company Urban Outfitters had used Navajo designs and motifs for years. In 2012, the Navajo Nation finally took legal action against the company for violating the Indian Arts and Crafts act, which prohibits trying to pass off artefacts as authentically Native when they are not. According to Urban Outfitters’ defense Navajo patterns are a generic style of design that anyone can use.

Lindsey M. Montgomery comments again: “Urban Outfitters’ claim that there is something generic about Navajo designs is baseless. These designs may share a similar set of aesthetically pleasing characteristics, but they are also the weaver’s personal expressions. Some refer to tribal or familial histories.”

Recognition of the individual behind the artwork rather than the group should really be the source of inspiration. Otherwise one gets inspired at the cost of preconceptions and generalizations. Maybe it is time to stop talking about Native Art all together. The contemporary art done by Native Americans is so diverse in style and content that it becomes difficult to speak of in terms of a particular grouping of art. It is, in short, art done by Native Americans rather than Native American art.

Nicholas Galanin juxtaposes tradition and the contemporary in unexpected ways.

In lists of the “native-artists-you-should-know” kind, the name Nicholas Galanin features prominently. He is certainly no idler. He makes jewellery, he makes art in a variety of different media and he sings in a band called Silver Jackson. Having multiple functions does not mean he is unfocused. It just means he doesn’t do what’s expected. While attending art school, the teachers expected him to abandon his roots in the traditional imagery of his Alaskan Tlingit tribe to be more contemporary. He didn’t. Instead he put it into dialogue with contemporary times.
The unexpected is also a word that comes to mind when thinking of his art. Like a taxidermied polar bear or wolf suddenly losing its form and becoming a rug midway through.

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In his art, some of Galanin’s key methods are comparison and juxtaposition. And, again, the results are quite often unexpected. As in “Things are Looking Native, Native’s Looking Whiter” (2012) in which Princess Leia from the “Star Wars” movies is juxtaposed with a Native American woman with traditional attire and hairstyle.

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The meeting, or confrontation if you will, of traditional and contemporary can also be experienced in the two-part video Tsu Héidei Shugaxtutaan (2006), in which a Tlingit dancer does his thing to a contemporary soundtrack of wobbly dubstep, and a non-Native break-dancer interprets a Tlingit song. The result is so captivating that anyone questioning the relevance of traditional cultures for contemporary times gets food for thought.

As firm believers in the dialogue between tradition and contemporary, Kiva Gallery sympathizes wholeheartedly with Galanin’s artistic methods. Galanin shows that not only does this dialogue generate exciting visuals but also knowledge and insight.