This week’s Throwback Thursday post is another entry in our exploration of what I’ve been calling the Season of the Buffalo, and it brings together two ancient elements in one powerful piece: the Buffalo Spirit itself; and the sacred pipestone.
I’ve written previously about the importance of Buffalo to our peoples generally. I’ve also written about the spiritual significance of the white buffalo — as recently as yesterday, and in one of the earliest posts here at The NDN Silver Blog. And while the prophecy of the white buffalo is not a part of either of our people’s own traditions, it nonetheless has assumed a spiritual and cultural significance for us, as well, adopted by peoples all over Indian Country as a powerful unifying symbol of Native sovereignty and autonomy.
So it should be no surprise that the imagery speaks to one of our master carvers, as well. We’ve already featured Ned Archuleta’s work a number of times, and noted then that one of his preferred media is alabaster. He often works specifically in pink alabaster, a stone whose relative softness and porosity make it easy to work with, susceptible to subtle nuances of form and shape, and yet one that possesses a strong inherent identity and integrity that comes through vividly under the hands of a skilled artisan. Whether he had the white buffalo prophecy in mind when he began this untitled piece I don’t know, but the image he coaxed from this block of pale pink stone evolved into a rendering of the Buffalo Spirit that looks nearly white. [And, of course, if you’ve ever seen a real white buffalo calf, you’ll know that they do look a little pinkish, especially at first.]
This piece has an unusual amount of sculpting detail in one respect — the curly-haired head and hump, which Ned created with meticulous, microscopic work. The rest of the animal spirit, however, is done in his classic style: bold, sweeping, yet subtle and minimalist lines that clearly evoke the subject, yet let the stone’s natural beauty do all the speaking. It doesn’t show in the photo above, but the animal’s face is blank, with only the subtlest of shaping for the slope of the features. It reminds me a bit of one of our ancient stories, in which the Spirits visited the people to give them the gift of a prophecy. In one version of the story, one of the beings was forced to cover its face, because it was so powerful to look upon that mere mortals could not survive the sight, and many of the people who gazed at it unwittingly died where they stood. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons why the Spirits choose to come to us in dreams and visions, so that the veil mediates between their powers and our human susceptibilities. It also allows each of us to see the spirit’s image as it presents itself to us, individually — and here, the viewer will see in Buffalo’s face that which he or she is intended to see.
Despite the inherent flowing beauty of the piece, it would be a bit austere were it rendered entirely in pink alabaster. to those unfamiliar with the stone, it might also seem a bit odd: After all, the dominant culture associates pink with femininity, and [mistakenly] femininity with weakness, so creating such a powerful animal spirit entirely in pink might provoke a bit of cognitive dissonance. Ned took care of that, intentionally or not, with two very small additions that carry multiple layers of significance.
This buffalo’s horns are made of pipestone.
Pipestone is what we all call this stone; the dominant culture calls it catlinite, which is frankly a new name for it by any historical measure, and is less than courteous to the peoples for whom it has been a sacred element of their culture for centuries at a minimum, and probably for millennia. The name “catlinite” dates only to 1835, when a white man, a painter, named George Catlin visited (perhaps “trespassed upon” would be a more accurate turn of phrase) the sacred quarries in Minnesota used by many area tribal nations. He claimed to be the first white man to do so, but numerous other colonial settlers and explorers disputed his claim, and it is now widely considered to be false. For the remainder of this post, I’ll be using the English translation of our people’s words for the stone, i.e., pipestone, for the sake of accuracy.
Pipestone is what is known as claystone (or sometimes “mudstone”), a finely grained soft stone susceptible to carving, brick-red in color. It appears as a form of argilite in host rock of what is now called Sioux quartzite. The most famous pipestone source is the one mentioned above, in Minnesota (and referenced in Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha), and it is reportedly the softest and easiest to use. It is also restricted to enrolled tribal members from various nations, a significant modern victory for tribal nations, Native sovereignty, and the protection and preservation of sacred land.
Ownership of the land on which the quarry area sits, and access to it, was long a matter of ugly dispute. It sits wholly within the lands of the Yankton Dakota reservation, which was created by fiat of the U.S. Government in 1858. Nonetheless, the quarry and its contents were recognized by white settlers as having monetary value, and thus, despite its clear location within reservation boundaries, non-Indians tried to claim title to the land and bar Indian access. It was fought in the courts over a period of many decades, with the courts initially deciding that Indians possessed only easement rights to the quarry, title to which they decided was held by private (i.e., white) ownership. It was an untenable situation for tribes whose very identities and existence depended upon spiritual practices requiring use of the stone from that particular quarry. The Dakota finally prevailed on April 16, 1928, 70 years after they were first herded onto the reservation in the first place; the U.S. Court of Claims awarded the tribal nation a judgment of $100,000 — plus interest accruing from the date of March 1, 1891, until the date final payment would be tendered.
The significance was (or at least should have been) enormous. And yet, it was nowhere near enough — not simply in remunerative terms, but in terms of access: The sacred lands were still neither safe nor properly reserved to those to whom they truly belonged. With the 1937 passage of a host of New Deal programs, Congress acted to “protect” the quarries by making them a national monument, and yet it was not until sometime later that the lands were finally, and properly, closed off to outsiders. Now, quarrying of the pipestone is limited to enrolled members of federally-recognized tribes, and the remaining 30-some quarry pits provide a livelihood for numerous area Indian families.
The quarries described above refer to those found in Pipestone National Monument, in what is now called Pipestone County, Minnesota (and where to town of Pipestone sits). It is not the only source of pipestone in the country (although, for traditional purposes, it is widely accepted among Indians as the best). In neighboring Wisconsin, another quarry sits on the lands of an Ojibwe reservation; tribal members there have likewise mined and used the stone since time immemorial, although the stone is reportedly less malleable than that found in Minnesota. It is also found in other states, including Utah and Pennsylvania; as with the Wisconsin form, it is a harder substance, and less susceptible to easy carving.
There is one great benefit to the pipestone found in some other states, however: It may be bought, sold, and used for other purposes without as much traditional stigma attached to such practices. Among the Sioux and Ojibwe nations that have historically used pipestone for the traditional canupa (pronounced cha-NOO-pah) or calumet, it is a sacred substance, intended by Spirit to be used for that purpose only. The dominant culture has hung the misnomer “peace pipe” upon traditional pipes, but a better term would be “ceremonial pipe,” since they are used in collective environments of all sorts where the subject(s) of discussion were of great import; some involved “peacemaking,” to be sure, but there are many other contexts in and purposes for which they were (and are) used. They are also closely-held ceremonial items; despite what you may read or hear about non-Natives being “pipe carriers” and “pipekeepers,” it’s all appropriative nonsense that bears no relationship to reality. The pipes are sacred, and holding them is considered an equally sacred trust. Because of this, the material used to make them is likewise considered sacred, its value not to be diminished or diluted or trivialized by other use. For those who mine and use the pipestone from the restricted Minnesota pits, to sell the stone, even to other Native artists for use in other ways, would be sacrilege.
However, for numerous other tribal nations, pipestone is important historically and an object of beauty, but is not regarded as sacred. For these peoples, it’s perfectly acceptable to use it for carving fetishes and sculptures, pipe bowls for non-ceremonial art replicas, and even jewelry. The rich dark red color is beautiful in its own right, but the knowledge of its historical value to brother and sister nations gives it special resonance for artists all over Indian Country. Since they are able to obtain it from other sources, they can use it freely, in accordance with their own people’s traditions, without infringing upon what is culturally sacrosanct for some tribes.
And indeed, as Ned has used it here, it feels like a way to honor our intertribal connections, a recognition and remembrance of sorts. From the piece’s description in our Other Artists: Sculpture Gallery here on the site:
Buffalo stands solidly on your shelf or mantel, as rendered here by master carver Ned Archuleta (Taos Pueblo). The back of the body and the face are polished smooth; the head, shoulders, and forelegs are roughened to evoke his curly mane. The horns are carved of deep-red polished pipestone. Approximate dimensions are 7″ in length X 5″ in height.
Pink alabaster; pipestone
$375 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
It’s a flawlessly fitting tribute to the subtle strength that Buffalo embodies: taken from from a solid, yet adaptable substance, horns coaxed from a sacred stone its one modest adornment, spiritual yet wholly substantial. Driven to the brink of extinction, yet managing, in the face of the most wanton and willful destruction, to survive nonetheless.
It’s an equally fitting symbol for our peoples.
~ Aji
