Some days these posts are harder than others.
Today, Wings made the decision to part with one of the flutes from his private collection. And believe me, he has a collection. Most are red cedar, which has become the standard material for the archetypal Native flute. Some are other materials, though, including one from long ago that purports to be of African rosewood, although he didn’t know that when he bought it. [True rosewood is endangered, and it’s now illegal to buy or sell in this country.]
Most of the flutes in his collection are standard single-chamber flutes, but some are drones. A drone has a couple of different definitions, related but not identical. The most basic definition of a drone is a flute that plays a fixed note. In other words, when playing it, you will evoke only a single steady sound in the same pitch. It sounds boring when described, but a well-made drone produces a single-note sound that makes your hair stand on end, sends shivers down your spine, makes your very soul vibrate and your heart crack open and weep. Of course, except for certain special-effects uses, a drone of this sort is generally not intended to produce music by itself. Which leads us to the second, more practical form and definition of a drone: a dual-chambered flute, one chamber of which produces only the usual single sound, while the other contains multiple holes to permit it to produce multiple notes in harmony. The ends are fused together at the end, so that the flute player blows into both chambers simultaneously, producing both a low single note and the harmonious multi-note counterpoint.
One flute in his collection, though, is one he didn’t buy. I know, because I bought it for him. It was hand-made by Tim Tate Nevaquaya, the son of famed Comanche artist and musician Doc Tate Nevaquaya, and a brilliant artist and musician in his own right. Tim makes flutes in a variety of styles from a diversity of materials. At a powwow years ago, he was selling flutes in the trade tent, and among them was one labeled “Sioux Crane Flute.” It’s a courting flute, a type of instrument and a tradition found among many of our peoples’ cultures. The courting flute ends in the shape of a bird’s bill, which may be any of a number of different birds, including Woodpecker and Raven; in this case, it was Sandhill Crane who gave it voice. Considering my name, it was a foregone conclusion that I would be adding it to Wings’s collection.
Some of his flutes hold no sentimental value; the plan was always, eventually, to offer them for sale. But that was not originally the case with today’s flute, which he’s had for probably close to a quarter-century. It’s unusual for a variety of reasons.
At first glance, it looks very much like a standard Native flute, but there are some differences. It’s a full-sized one, long, and its shape differs from the average contemporary Native flute in a couple of other significant ways. Today, it’s common for such flutes to be round on the sides, but slightly flattened on the top and bottom; from the end, it gives the body a bit of an oval shape. This one is round, with a mouth end that is not merely pointed, but beveled. Moreover, you can see the meticulous work that went into its shaping: Shortly beyond the mouth end, the wood slopes gracefully upward, plateaus evenly beneath the bird effigy, and then slopes back down before the first air hole appears. It’s intended to provide a full, rich sound, and it’s the kind of deliberately-tailored workmanship not often seen today.
Speaking of effigies, this one is unusual, too. Effigies have both practical and decorative purposes: In some flutes, they are used as a “block” to cover what is called the “flue” of the flute. No, that’s not a typo; f-l-u-e, like the flue of a fireplace, because in musical terms, it performs a similar function with regard to airflow, connecting the flute’s two “chambers” (the compression chamber, at the mouth end, and the sound chamber, which emits the music). [And, yes, I know I called a regular flute a single-chamber flute, because that’s the standard terminology. As a practical matter, however, most flutes have two internal chambers, one to capture the air, which is processed through the flue and sent to the second chamber, which turns it into sound. In the “flute v. drone” dichotomy, “single-body” might actually be a better descriptive label.]
At any rate, effigies take a variety of forms, but in the average contemporary flute, birds are probably most common. In the basic, modestly-priced red-cedar standard found today, the birds (or other animals or shapes) tend to be carved in what is known in sculpture as “vintage style” — i.e., rudimentary shapes that very clearly delineate the animal, but are intended to evoke its spirit, not display great detail. They’re also usually quite small, an inch or two on average. This one, as you can see, is substantially larger, and has a more detailed outline, the eagle’s crest and powerful beak clearly and separately defined.
The other quality that makes this flute unusual is the material from which it’s made. As I noted above, the vast majority of Native flutes are made of red cedar. Part of it is ready availability of the wood; part of it is the beauty of its grain and color; part of it is ease of carving; part of it is now that the market has decided that that’s what a Native flute must be.
Not this one.
This one is ash.
Ash trees are indigenous to New Mexico (as well as much of the rest of the country). They’re hardwood trees, perfect for uses that require stability and durability. They’re also light in color, but with a very delicate, fine, beautiful grain. That fineness of grain is much in evidence in this flute: graceful burling, fragile speckling, and a smooth, cool, silken hardness to it. It makes for quite a departure from what most people regard as a typical Native flute, and yet it’s wholly indigenous in style and effect.
So what is it that makes today’s post so difficult?
It’s knowing that there will never be another flute like this one, by this artist. The flutemaker’s name is Bobby Seumptewa, from Hopi. Wings bought it directly from the artist, as I said, probably close to 25 years ago — back in the early days of Wings’s own work making a living solely as an artist. This was before the days of the gallery, or even a shop; he was selling his work at a little table under the arbor, in the open air of the old village plaza. And Mr. Seumptewa would have been a very young man, albeit already a very skilled artisan.
Today, I went to look him up to see whether he was still making flutes. I was dismayed to learn that he apparently walked on four years ago, at far too young an age. A life abbreviated, the world cut off from a talent and source of great beauty that manifests in multiple forms, auditory, visual, tactile.
I feel compelled here to point out a few things that should be obvious, but I know from hard experience clearly are not. A flute is not a “Native flute” unless it is made by an actual Native artisan. Unless the maker is Indian, the best that can be said of a flute is that it may be made in “Native style.” Likewise, only an actual Indian may be called a “Native flute player,” and only such a person’s music is “Native flute music.” All others are non-Natives copying music in the “Native style.” In the face of the knowledge that Mr. Seumptewa has walked on, it would be disrespectful to his memory not to emphasize this crucial distinction, since it’s a distinction purposefully blurred daily by pretenders that dilutes his own contributions (and those of his fellow actual Native artists and musicians) to these art forms.
I have not yet had time to post a separate entry for this piece in the galleries here on the site. Soon, I’ll create a gallery specifically for flutes, and it will reside there. For now, I think this post serves as descriptor enough. The price is $575, plus shipping, handling, and insurance (which will be a little more than the norm, because the flute will require careful packaging and handling). For inquiries, simply use the Contact form at left.
And now, perhaps it’s time, belatedly, to burn a little cedar for the spirit of a man gone too soon, who nevertheless left us a legacy of traditional beauty.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
