A video game that draws from Alaskan Inupiat culture is expected to be released this fall.
Never Alone is the first title from Upper One Games, a joint venture between the Cook Inlet Tribal Council and E-Line Media of New York.
“We call it an atmospheric puzzle platformer,” says Sean Vesce of E-Line Media.
“The game stars two characters: an Inupiat girl named Nuna and her unlikely companion, an Arctic fox. The game provides an adventure in which the two characters must work together to overcome challenges.”
Each of the characters has unique skills and abilities. The game can be played by a single player, who can switch between the two characters at any time, or by two players.
Never Alone is the first title from Upper One Games, a joint venture between the Cook Inlet Tribal Council and E-Line Media of New York. (courtesy of Upper One Games)
Vesce says it’s styled as a 2-D side scroller, where players jump and run through perilous environments found in the North slope such as ice fields, ice floes and forests.
The over-arching storyline is told by an Inupiat storyteller.
Amy Fredeen, executive vice president of both the Cook Inlet Tribal Council and Upper One Games, says the game highlights the value Inupiat culture puts on interdependence.
She says the tribal council chose to found Upper One Games to connect with the growing population of Inupiat youth.
“What’s been really phenomenal is seeing the video game come around as a new way of storytelling,” she says.
“Indigenous people have always had an indigenous way of learning, and we have our Western models that we work within now, but we’ve always held on to our storytelling and our dancing as a way to pass wisdom and knowledge. And this is just another new way we’re going to be able to share this with the younger generation.”
She also says the game is an invitation to anyone to learn more about Inupiat culture.
The game is expected to be released this fall for PS4, Xbox One and PC.
Read more here: http://www.thenewstribune.com/2014/05/16/3197717/re-visioning-native-america.html?sp=/99/1683/#storylink=cpy
Courtesy of Tacoma Art Museum
When Northwest artist Matika Wilbur was at an airport with her 9-year-old nephew, they happened upon a display case of Swinomish tribal art — their own people. Except the label explained, “The Swinomish were a hunter-gatherer tribe who lived in the Puget Sound region …”
Wilbur’s nephew turned to her, and asked sadly, “Aunty, why does it say ‘we were,’ not ‘we are?’ ”
The answer to that question opens at the Tacoma Art Museum on Saturday. Wilbur, a Swinomish/Tulalip photographer, is unveiling the first part of her “Project 562,” a multiyear, multimedia odyssey to document every recognized Native American tribe in the United States — to show, in fact, the “we are.”
Supported by the museum from the beginning, the project’s nearly halfway done, with 200 out of (now) 566 tribes documented in startling silver gelatin portraits, audio interviews and short films. Around 40 of the portraits will be on view at Saturday’s opening, along with Wilbur herself to give a talk on her journey to turn around the imagery of contemporary Native America.
“When you Google ‘African American’ you get beautiful images of people doing what we do now — kids on swings, businesspeople in suits,” says Wilbur. “If you Google ‘Latino’ or ‘Asian American’, the same. But for Native American, what you’ll find is images of previous centuries.”
That kind of negative, stereotypical imagery, Wilbur adds, affects self-esteem, worsening problems in many tribes of alcohol addiction, drug use and teen suicide.
“As a teacher, I lost a lot of students to suicide,” she says. “I argue that image does affect our consciousness, our children. It’s been proven in studies.”
Four years ago, Wilbur decided to change that imagery.
“I’m hopeful, I believe things can change,” she says. “I thought, what if things could change for young people? What if I could be a part of that? That was my dream, my goal.”
Planning, applying for grants, doing a Kickstarter campaign, contacting tribes and finally driving around the country, she has covered 60,000 miles since November 2012, spending around five days in each place, taking audio and photographic portraits of at least three men and three women in each tribe, thus the name “Project 562.” Along the way she’s raised national media awareness through NBC, NPR, BBC, The New York Times, The Huffington Post, even Buzzfeed.com.
“What I’m attempting to do is to offer a contemporary image that showcases our heroes,” says Wilbur.
And much of the credit goes to the Tacoma Art Museum. With a budget of $500,000 to pay for travel and costs for a book, films and educational curriculum, Wilbur “desperately needed a big institution to put their name on the project.” Most of the institutions she approached either doubted or laughed at the project — except Tacoma.
“(Senior curator) Rock Hushka was like, ‘Let’s do it. I’ll help you. What do you need?’” Wilbur says. “That’s not what museums normally do. They usually borrow your work when it’s finished.”
Wilbur also points out the museum got on board long before they accepted the enormous Haub collection of Western art, much of which comes from that previous-century perspective on native identity.
And so, this weekend, TAM gets to host the inaugural “Project 562” exhibition through October, before it travels to other venues. (The Haub wing opens shortly afterward.)
“‘Project 562’ provides ample evidence of the diversity and vibrancy of contemporary Native Americans,” says Hushka. “Only a photographer of Wilbur’s caliber could capture this with such grace and clarity.”
The exhibition will be accompanied by various lectures, as well as being the centerpiece for the museum’s annual Native Northwest Community Celebration on May 31. A member reception Saturday night will include hoop dancers from Phoenix; singers from the Swinomish and Tulalip tribes; a blessing from the Puyallup tribe and more.
Wilbur also is collaborating with fashion designer Bethany Yellowtail (Crow Nation) on a “562” fashion line, which the artist hopes will fund the project into the future. The first items are scarves that double as shawls, with design elements (cedar, cracked earth) that tell stories from different tribes.
What speaks loudest in “Project 562,” however, are Wilbur’s portraits. Shot against desert landscapes, calm Puget Sound waters, city streets or plain walls, they show tough teens, patient elders, cowboys, young women in denim, older women in regalia. And while the background is important — places her subjects felt most tied to — it’s reduced to black-and-white, while the people themselves stand out in color.
Spending up to three hours, Wilbur also interviewed her subjects extensively, diving into their deepest dreams and loyalties.
“I asked them where they grew up, why they stayed or left, about their family and what’s not in the history books about their people,” she says. “Then I talked about more serious things — what does it mean to be a sovereign nation? About assimilation, education, values, wellness, racial stereotypes … and what does it mean to be a member of your community? … That question is important for me, because it grapples with the concept of being ‘Indian enough.’”
While Wilbur’s work asks big questions and has been described as provocative, Wilbur says what matters most is how it attempts to connect actual living Native American cultures with the rest of Western society, reversing the “historical inaccuracies about Indian identity.” It also creates a central location where those cultures have visual representation.
“It’s more about the intimacy of the portraits and the stories they convey,” she says. “It’s also time we allowed our young Native people to see themselves in a positive light. To move beyond poverty porn and give them something hopeful.”
Read more here: http://www.thenewstribune.com/2014/05/16/3197717/re-visioning-native-america.html?sp=/99/1683/#storylink=cpy
Author LLyn De Danaan at home in Mason County, Washington. (Mary Randlett.)
OYSTER BAY, WASHINGTON — The discovery of long-forgotten gravestones in a thicket of bramble and alder set one author on the trail of a singular Native American woman and oyster farmer who lived in 19th century Washington state.
The book that resulted is inspiring others to reveal the stories of people who’ve been out of the nation’s collective history.
Cultural crossroads
The waterfront cottage LLyn De Danaan calls home in Oyster Bay, Washington State, overlooks a cultural crossroads that is rich in history. She’s a cultural anthropologist whose eyes and ears are attuned to the signs and stories of place.
From the earliest times, Oyster Bay drew waves of settlers looking to reap shellfish.
De Danaan, who moved to the area in the early 1970s, heard so many tales about pioneer Katie Gale ‒ independent businesswoman who owned property and tidelands in her own name in the late 1800s ‒ that she started a file on her.
“That was all a little bit unusual from conventional wisdom, and things I had heard about both people in the oyster business and Native American women,” De Danaan said.
She was fascinated by Gale’s ability to straddle different worlds, standing up for herself and her mixed-race children.
“I suppose there just were too many things about that that intrigued me that I couldn’t let go of it,” De Danaan said. “I literally could not let go of it for years.”
“Katie Gale: A Coast Salish Woman’s Life on Oyster Bay” by LLyn De Danaan.
Katie Gale’s story
A turning point came when De Danaan and several friends from the historical society discovered an overgrown homestead graveyard not far from her house. One of the headstones belonged to Katie Gale.
“I was so amazed, excited, [and] enthralled that I began beating on Stan’s shoulders as he was kneeling in front of me holding this stone,” she said. “I literally said, ‘I know who this is,’ as if she were an acquaintance of mine. But it almost felt that way. I would say that was a moment of calling. I have to tell this woman’s story. I have to know her.”
But the long-dead Gale left no letters or journals. De Danaan found no photographs or living descendants. The best source material was a divorce case file.
It took almost a decade to accumulate corroborating details, context and enough educated guesses to write a biography. Katie Gale: A Coast Salish Woman’s Life on Oyster Bay was published last fall.
But the tale doesn’t stop there.
Reclaiming lost histories
“There are so many stories not told,” De Danaan said. “There are so many histories and people left out of our histories. That is what my work has to be now. I feel that it is my obligation to do that.”
The biographer is a guest speaker in a writing class at the Evergreen State College Longhouse in Olympia. She encourages students to bring forth stories before they are lost, perhaps starting with family history. It’s a message De Danaan returns to again and again in regular public talks and one-on-one mentoring.
“You are able to find out a lot,” she told the young people, “more than you think.”
All of the students this day are Native American. It takes awhile, but eventually sensitivities come out.
“I was really hesitant about taking the class,” said Melissa, a student who attended.
Her grandmothers warned against exposing too much of their Spokane tribal heritage to outsiders for fear they might twist or exploit it.
Makah tribal member Vince Cook heard that from his elders, too. “That is a tough one, because when I was younger we were told not to record, not to videotape.”
Cook says attitudes are changing now as people see tradition and culture slipping away. He feels spurred to write about his great grandmother and all the things she taught him.
“I think it is important to continue on, not only for myself, but for my family and for others to know about the Makah culture and to keep it alive,” he said.
Other Native Americans also recognize the urgency of gathering history before it’s lost.
Amateur folklorist Si Matta focuses on gathering the stories of his ancestors from the Cascade (Watala) Indian tribe that once lived and fished in the Columbia River Gorge.
He’s using modern means to collect the old stories, by soliciting and sharing material and photographs via a website and Facebook page.
mdunham@adn.comMay 13, 2014 Anchorage Dimond High School graduate Michelle Brown has become a finalist in a national search for stylin’ footwear with a design that makes ingenious use of salmon skin.
Brown, who will graduate from Parsons The New School for Design in New York City this month with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in women’s ready-to-wear, has one of four designs competing in an online contest sponsored by the upscale Allen Edmonds company.
Brown said she was drawn to use remnants to create a striking design by how the company found ways to make shoes during World War II, when leather was rationed. In that history she found parallels with how Alaska Natives made efficient use of materials.
“Being Native American myself, and from Alaska, I was attracted to the Natives of the Northwest and their own unique approaches to solving design problems,” she wrote in her contestant statement. “I was inspired by their conservative use of materials and wanted to emulate the idea of using resources in a meaningful way. I thought that their use of strips of material and other remnants was a great way to make use of every piece.”
In an email, she describes her “Frontier Boot” as “a classic men’s boot with a twist on the fabrication because of the use of salmon leather. Function was also important, so I finished with the metal lace hooks mounted on cognac-tinged Dublin horween cowhide.”
That sounds fancy, but Brown has also factored in practical features. “The boots are recraftable,” she said, “meaning that the soles can be replaced at least three times through the boot’s life span.”
People can vote on the finalists at allenedmonds.com through May 16. A link to the voting page appears every few seconds in rotation with other links at the top of the home page.
The winning design will be produced and sold as a special edition later this year.
Samuel Johns likes to refer to himself as an artist, a storyteller. He raps, plays traditional Athabascan drums, and gives motivational talks to inspire youth. Johns grew up in Copper Center, a depressed Alaska village on the road system. He cites the availability of liquor in the village as one of the downfalls of the community.
“Growing up in the village, it’s good for some people. Some people find their peace in the wilderness and (aren’t) affected by addiction. But then when they are caught in that life, it could kill them.” It’s a story Johns knows well; many of his friends and family in the village have died after getting stuck in addictions.
“Growing up in the village is hard,” Johns said. “That’s why I have the ability to share my story, because I know where some of those kids are at.” With few opportunities and an epidemic of alcoholism in rural villages, Johns became depressed and after an alcohol-related death in his family he fell into drinking. He finally gave into the depression and desperation he had been feeling and drank away five years of his life. Johns now sees clearly that there has been a lack of sober male role models in his community. He didn’t have a role model and acknowledges that even he wasn’t present for his first daughter during his years of drinking.
Johns now wants to help change that environment for the younger generation living in Alaska Native villages. Through his positive message raps, he’s trying to reach youth in a way that’s relevant to their lives.
“Everybody has heard everything on the radio and I’m the exactly opposite of that,” he said. “Rappers, they talk about cars, money, making it rain. People can fantasize about it, but they won’t have a real connection. But when it comes to lyrics about domestic abuse, they can picture that in their mind if they’ve been around that. They can picture it, they can feel it because it’s real. My target is the younger generation. So they can listen to it and say, ‘Man, I kind of want to make a difference in my community.’”
Johns, who has been sober for almost seven years now, feels that in the village he never found a healthy way to grieve for the deaths of loved ones. Since January, Johns has been bringing his traditional drum to Bean’s Cafe to play traditional music for the homeless community, many of whom are Alaska Native. He plays music for them to “reconnect them to their lost identity.” He says the drumming is healing and traditionally a way to unite people. It’s his way of helping people heal and connect to their Native history.
You can see Samuel Johns’ videos on his YouTube channel.
It started with the discovery of long-forgotten gravestones in a thicket of bramble and alder. That set one author on the faint trail of a feisty Native American woman and oyster farmer who lived in 19th century western Washington.
Author LLyn De Danaan at home in Mason County, Washington.
Credit Mary Randlett
The biographer is using the resulting book to inspire other Northwesterners — particularly tribal members. She wants to bring out the stories of people who, in her words, have been “left out of our histories.”
The waterfront cottage that LLyn De Danaan calls home on Oyster Bay in Mason County, Washington, overlooks a cultural crossroads rich in history. So it is fortunate she is a cultural anthropologist by profession. Her eyes and ears are tuned to signs and stories of place. And at this place, waves of settlers came from the earliest times to reap shellfish.
De Danaan moved here in the early 1970s. In recent decades, she heard enough tales about one pioneer to start a file. The name was Katie Gale. This independent businesswoman owned property and tidelands in her own name in the late 1800s.
“That was all a little bit unusual from conventional wisdom and things I had heard about both people in the oyster business and Native American women,” says De Danaan.
Finding Katie Gale
The biographer was fascinated by how Gale straddled different worlds and stood up for herself and her mixed race children.
“Katie Gale: A Coast Salish Woman’s Life on Oyster Bay” was published last fall.
Credit University of Nebraska Press
“I suppose there just were too many things about that that intrigued me that I couldn’t let go of it,” she says. “I literally couldn’t let go of it for years!”
A turning point came when De Danaan and several friends from the historical society discovered an overgrown little homestead graveyard a mile from her house. One of the headstones belonged to Katie Gale.
“I was so amazed, excited, enthralled that I began beating on Stan’s shoulders as he was kneeling in front of me holding this stone.”
Her friend had to plead with her to contain her excitement and stop it.
“I literally said, ‘I know who this is,’ as if she were an acquaintance of mine. But it almost felt that way,” recalls De Danaan. “I would say that was a moment of calling. I have to tell this woman’s story. I have to know her.”
But here’s the problem: the long-dead Katie Gale left no letters, no journals. De Danaan could find no photographs of her, no living descendants. The best source material was a divorce case file. It took almost a decade to accumulate corroborating details, context and enough educated guesses to write a biography. “Katie Gale: A Coast Salish Woman’s Life on Oyster Bay” was published last fall.
“So many stories not told”
But the tale doesn’t stop there.
“There are so many stories not told,” says De Danaan. “There are so many histories and people left out of our histories. That is what my work has to be now. I feel that it is my obligation to do that.”
At a writing class at the Evergreen State College Longhouse in Olympia, De Danaan is a guest speaker.
De Danaan exhorts the seminar to bring forth stories before they’re lost, perhaps starting with family history. This is a message De Danaan returns to again and again in regular public talks and one-on-one mentoring.
“You’re able to find out a lot more than you think,” she says.
All of the students in the circle facing the author this day are Native American. It takes awhile, but eventually sensitivities come out.
Keeping tradition and culture alive
Author LLyn De Danaan (right) discussed her biography of Katie Gale with students at The Evergreen State College.
Credit Tom Banse / Northwest News Network
One student says she was hesitant about taking the class. Her grandmothers warned against exposing too much of their Spokane tribal heritage to outsiders who might twist it or exploit it.
Makah tribal member Vince Cook heard that from his elders too.
“That’s a tough one,” he says. “Because when I was younger we were told not to record, not to videotape.”
Cook says attitudes are changing now as people see tradition and culture slipping away. He feels spurred to write about his great grandmother and all the things she taught him.
“I think it is important to continue on not only for myself, but for my family and for others to know about the Makah culture and to keep it alive,” says Cook.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much it meant to me when you’d wake up early to make us muffins in the winter. It’s one of my favorite childhood memories. Thank you and I love you.
Huckleberries are an important and much loved berry of the Pacific Northwest. They’re “in season” for only one or two weeks of the late summer and they don’t grow just anywhere. In fact, part of their appeal is that they refuse to be domesticated. Scientists/botanists have tried to domestic the plant to no avail. Thus, if you want to enjoy the ruddy purple berry you have little choice but to pack a picnic, pack the kids, and head to the mountains to find a good patch.
In the late summers my own family would spend an afternoon picking in our own carefully scouted secret patch. Mom would pack a picnic of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while dad clumsily lathered his three daughters in sunscreen. Then we headed up Vulcan Mountain in search of treasure. The car carefully wound up the dusty dirt road as we climbed out of the Curlew Valley to over 5,000 feet above sea level. We’d eat at least as many berries as we picked but somehow we’d still manage to come home with two or three gallons of huckleberries. Some of the berries were used immediately as topping for shortcake or ice cream. The rest were placed in the freezer to be made into jam or to be carefully rationed out over the winter.
Because, you see, winter in the Northwest kind of sucks. And huckleberries were my mother’s secret winter-morning weapon.
Six-thirty in the morning never comes easily when daylight is still an hour away and at a time of year when daylight doesn’t guarantee sunlight—for days. Toss in a school morning and you have a recipe for three little girls who will fight to stay in bed under the warm covers. Mom usually had to threaten us out of bed on such mornings, but on the occasional Northwest winter morning—we never had advanced warning—my sisters and I would wake up to the smell of something glorious baking.
Something extraordinary to start an ordinary, cold, dark, and harsh winter morning.
And in the place of threats, negotiations, mumbles and grumbles, in the place of cold cereal or oatmeal, the cold and dark morning would become punctuated with the sound of three sets of excited little feet racing to the kitchen, shouting: “Get up! Get up! Mom’s making muffins!”
And there was never any doubt as to what kind of muffins they’d be, for there was only one kind: Huckleberry.
And 6:30 a.m. would become easy. Treasured. Magical. Nothing could go wrong, the weather be too cold, the morning too dark, on huckleberry muffin mornings.
To me, early morning batches of huckleberry muffins are still an ultimate expression of love, devotion, and solidarity in that, hey, sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed. And they’re one of my most treasured childhood memories. So if I happen to get up extra early, no matter the season, and if I happen to offer you a cup of my precious winter stash of huckleberries in a batch of muffins, then you should know that I love you. Dearly.
And I want your day to be extraordinary.
Bonnie’s Huckleberry Muffins
Make these for your mom as the perfect breakfast-in-bed treat! Makes 12 muffins
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
1 c. oatmeal
1 c. milk
1 egg
¼ c. oil
1 c. flour
1/3 c. sugar
2 t. baking powder
¼ t. salt
1 c. huckleberries (or blueberries/raspberries/strawberries)
Combine oatmeal, milk, egg, and oil. Set aside for 15 minutes.
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Make a well in the center of dry ingredients. Add oat/milk mix until moist, mix will be lumpy.
Bake 18-20 minutes.
Darla Antoine is an enrolled member of the Okanagan Indian Band in British Columbia and grew up in Eastern Washington State. For three years, she worked as a newspaper reporter in the Midwest, reporting on issues relevant to the Native and Hispanic communities, and most recently served as a producer for Native America Calling. In 2011, she moved to Costa Rica, where she currently lives with her husband and their infant son. She lives on an organic and sustainable farm in the “cloud forest”—the highlands of Costa Rica, 9,000 feet above sea level. Due to the high elevation, the conditions for farming and gardening are similar to that of the Pacific Northwest—cold and rainy for most of the year with a short growing season. Antoine has an herb garden, green house, a bee hive, cows, a goat, and two trout ponds stocked with hundreds of rainbow trout.
Self-taught Tulalip flutist, Cary Micheal Williams finds inspiration for his melodies from birds such as the water bird, owl and eagle. Photo/ Brandi N. Montreuil, Tulalip News
By Brandi N. Montreuil, Tulalip News
TULALIP – Drummer and singer, 24 year-old Tulalip artist Cary Micheal Williams, is among a handful of Native American flute players paving the way in Tulalip for the instrument. As a self-taught flutist he is working on his first music album featuring original melodies. His overall goal is not to become commercialized, but rather to teach the craft and sacredness of the flute to the next generation.
Recently, Tulalip News/See-Yaht-Sub was able to sit down with Williams and discuss his music, teaching, and current music project.
SYS: How long have you been playing the flute?
Williams: I would say a solid seven years. I will be playing for the rest of my life, and teaching it too.
SYS: You are also a drummer so how did you get into playing the flute?
Williams: Yes and I also sing. It first started with me going to my grandpa. He was upstairs in his art room and I said, “I want to play the flute.” He said, one second, and went downstairs. My grandma and grandpa had already bought a flute and he brought it upstairs and gave me that flute. He said, “Your grandma said you better take care of it. It’s a really expensive flute.” Right when he handed me the flute I played a song. Instantly I knew how to play and it was amazing. I went downstairs and played a song for my grandma. The song has changed over time because the flute is different. I was going up a hill after playing on a cliff side and I fell and the flute broke. I recently bought this new flute and it sounds similar to that one.
SYS: How did you choose your flute?
Williams: This flute fits to me naturally. When I was in a prayer ceremony, I kind of felt this change. I was playing my other flute and a different note came out of it as I was playing. Later on down the road I bought this current flute. That connection was just there, so I picked it up. It is made of really high quality; it is yellow cedar, red wood, and turquoise. It has a yellow cedar borough too, so it has a different tone that will come out of it with different melodies.
SYS: It sounds like the flute is more than just an instrument to you, and there is a sacredness to be being a flutist.
Williams: Yes, because it is like its own life. I am honored to give the life into it and the melodies come from the birds. Every now and then I will just get a melody flowing through me and I will start playing it. The flute is very versatile, it can send out a message without much interaction. I noticed if you beat a drum, you shake everything up, but if you were to play the flute you would attract way more people, and unity is what we need. That is what I stand behind with my flute, is bringing people together. I’ve always been that guy off to the side playing my flute.
SYS: You mentioned a difference between playing the flute and the drum; how do you go from hitting a drum to controlling your breathing in order to play the flute?
Williams: Singing really helps. It really opens up my diaphragm. My singing diaphragm is way lower so I am allowed to get more air out through the flute to my songs. When I stand up my diaphragm is more open, but also when I sit, I have more control over it. From being a singer from a young age my uncle taught me how to do techniques, he would make me lay on the floor and put books on my stomach and tell me to breath.
SYS: How often do you practice?
Williams: There’s just times where I will get this feeling and I’ll go grab my flute and start playing. I make sure I always have it with me wherever I go, even if I am in the city. If there is someone I run into, it’s like, “Hey I want to play you a flute song.” It’s not only healing for them but for me too.
SYS: Do you have a favorite melody so far?
Williams: I think all my songs are my favorite. I remember all my songs from my first flute to the one that I just received. I have this library of songs that run through my head.
SYS: Do you have a name for your album yet?
Williams: I think it would be named Sounds of the Birds, because every time I play I see birds on my flute, just bouncing around and I connect with them. I can hear all the birds singing with me.
SYS: Is there a particular bird that you draw inspiration from?
Williams: There isn’t one particular bird, more like a couple of birds. There is the eagle, woodpecker, blue jay, hummingbird, owl and I can’t forget the water bird. I get a lot of my songs from the birds and from the trees too. My favorite noise is when I tap on my flute keys. I don’t know why, but it is settling. Sometimes I have to play in front of a whole bunch of people and it is my way of grounding myself before I play.
SYS: Do you use sheet music for your songs?
Williams: No, it is all in my head. I have a friend that knows how to transfer the music into the periodic table and is working on putting it onto sheet music.
Some children have it [musical talent] naturally and some children have to learn it a different way. If I can master both the teachings [styles] then I will be able to hand it over. That’s what I am aiming for. I have been working on it for a long time. I didn’t know it would become my personal mission, but the flute is a gift for all people.
Photo/ Brandi N. Montreuil, Tulalip News
SYS: There aren’t a lot of Tulalip flute players; there are mainly drummers and singers. Do you feel like you are helping to create a space for flutists in Tulalip?
Williams: Yes, for future flutists most definitely. My nephews are going to be flutists. I have them blow in the flute and I will push the keys for them. They are literally using their air, so it shows them that their air that is booting through the flute can do it.
SYS: Where do you want to take your music?
Williams: I believe I can take flutist of the year. I just have to keep moving down that road. My main drive is to allow the next generation to pick up the flute, because everyday it is there for me. I think it could be there for our children too, or whoever wants to learn. It is really good medicine for yourself and I found also it is good medicine for others, so I am always willing to share it. I was told that the melodies, harmonic tones and vibrations from the flute have healing power. It can heal wounds and feelings. Don’t limit it.
Premiering on Tulalip TV this week is a new episode of Native Report # 808.
Native Report is an entertaining, informative magazine style series that celebrates Native American culture and heritage, listens to tribal elders, and talks to some of the most powerful and influential leaders of Indian country today.
In this edition of Native Report we learn about “Spirit of the Ojibwe,” a special book devoted to the elders of the Lac Courte Oreilles Reservation in Wisconsin. We visit the Chathlopotle Plankhouse, a traditional Chinookan-style cedar structure. And we learn about how the best practices toward revitalizing the Maori Language can also be applied to other language preservation efforts. We also learn something new about Indian country and hear from our elders on this edition of Native Report.
You will be able to watch Native Report Episode – 808 and many other Native programs on Tulalip TV, Channel 99 on Tulalip Broadband or Live on www.TulalipTV.com on a PC, Mac or any ‘Smart’ device such as phone or tablet.
Native Report – 808 can be watched at either of these times: 1:00 p.m. or 9:30p.m.
By MIKE DUNHAM
Anchorage Dimond High School graduate Michelle Brown has become a finalist in a national search for stylin’ footwear with a design that makes ingenious use of salmon skin.
