_ _ _ _ _

by Alex Rose

A sedate story on the surface, the repatriation and return of Nisga'a artifacts is fraught with high drama and the clash of cultures.

A long, bittersweet tale, it began in the heyday of anthropological collecting on the Northwest Coast, the time between 1875 and the Great Depression when missionaries traveled to aboriginal villages throughout the British Columbia coast to spread the word of Christ.

The scramble for aboriginal artifacts went on until it seemed that almost everything not nailed down or hidden was gone. The period of most intense collecting coincided with the growth of anthropological museums such as the Smithsonian Institution, the American Museum of Natural History, Chicago's Field Museum of Natural History, the Provincial Museum of British Columbia (now the Royal British Columbia Museum) and the Museum of Man (now the Canadian Museum of Civilization), to name just a few.

people of the nass river

The Nass River valley is one of the richest natural environments in the world. Located in the rugged northwestern corner of British Columbia near the Alaska Panhandle, the river and its watershed from glacial headwaters to Pacific estuary provided the food, fur, tools, plants, medicine, timber and fuel that enabled the Nisga'a to develop one of the most sophisticated cultures in pre-colonial North America.

Since the last great Ice Age, the Nisga'a have travelled, fished and settled along 380 kilometres of the Nass River and its tributaries. In Ayuukhl Nisga'a the ancient Nisga'a oral code many stories describe supernatural events along the river.

The Nass supports all five species of Pacific salmon and steelhead, the most important commodity the Nisga'a have ever known. Rich salmon runs were harvested in a manner that allowed the people to build villages and develop a far-flung trading empire reaching deep into the Interior and ranging up and down the coast.

Besides salmon and steelhead, the Nass is home to the oolichan, a finger-sized member of the smelt family. Another mainstay of Nisga'a culture and an historic staple of Nisga'a trade, oolichan are also known as "candlefish" because when dried, they retain enough oil to burn like candles.

Upriver, giant hemlock, cedar and sitka spruce forests gradually change to lodgepole, jack pine and balsam forests, while stands of cottonwood cloak the valley floor.

The Nisga'a built houses of massive cedar posts and beams with removable vertical wall boards, set into grooved timbers top and bottom. The houses of high-ranking chiefs had central fire pits, with broad steps leading down from the main floor. The steps were wide enough to accommodate meal preparation and other domestic activities.

long before the boston men

Organized in four clans Gisk'aast (Killer Whale), Laxgibuu (Wolf), Ganada (Raven) and Laxsgiik (Eagle) the Nisga'a hunted, fished and trapped. Freed from the demands of day-to-day survival by their rich environment, they also had time for the development and enactment of elaborate ceremonies and the creation of art and sacred objects.

The immense trees that grew in the Nass forests were split, steamed, carved and shredded to serve a variety of purposes. Wood was transformed into houses, canoes, boxes, storage chests, masks, rattles and many other ceremonial and household objects. Spruce roots were woven into baskets and used to lace the bottom and sides of boxes together. Cedar bark fibres were softened, shredded and woven into articles of clothing. Mountain sheep and goats, bear, deer, beaver, otter and ermine supplied food and material for clothing and ornamentation.

While some Nisga'a art was utilitarian, most was made for heraldic display, for initiation rites or to represent spirits on which a halayt or shaman would rely for magic and power.

Spectacular Nisga'a totem poles, house posts, grave markers, painted house fronts and interior screens, gigantic feast dishes and large carved canoes were made to celebrate the lineage of high chiefs and their families. Ceremonial costumes, head-dresses, helmets, talking sticks, rattles, spoons and other eating utensils were meticulously carved, painted and inlaid to depict animal symbols. In the Nisga'a culture, these animals may appear separately, or in complex juxtapositions with each other.

This rich decorative art was often displayed or given away at potlatches where a wealthy chief might announce the acquisition of a new title or crest, to celebrate a coming of age or to repay a social obligation. In so doing, he would reassert his status and power in the eyes of his guests. The interior of the houses in which these ceremonies were held were decorated with house posts. Hereditary family myths and encounters with supernatural spirits were re-enacted in dramatic performances and dances.

ovoid, almost calligraphic

Striking and original, traditional Nisga'a art was at the same time governed by strictly observed rules of design. Numerous books document its bilateral symmetry and the use of bold and contrasting colors, particularly red and black. Also characteristic is the splitting and rearranging of human or animal forms so they cover the entire surface of an object, and exaggerating of certain distinguishing anatomical features such as beaks, claws, mouths and face types to identify specific animals. Bill Holm's Northwest Coast Art: An Analysis of Form has become a standard reference.

Holm coined the term formline to describe the single most significant element of Nisga'a and other Northwest Coast art, and the one which gives it its unmistakable appearance. This flowing, almost calligraphic line, which delineates every unit of design, is unique to this art and lends a quality of inner life and dynamism to every object on which it appears.

At first glance, newcomers encountering Nisga'a art may find its two-dimensionality confusing. Many of the distinguishing characteristics of specific animal and human forms such as hands, fins, claws, flippers, beaks and feathers can be easily identified and spring to our attention. But when these elements may be rearranged to fit certain spaces, the extreme abstraction of some patterns may confuse. It is also possible, as suggested by anthropologists such as Wilson Duff, that some patterns were deliberately ritualized for purposes of ownership and status.

the museum age

In the late 19th century, Methodist and Anglican missions were established in villages along the Nass River. By the 1880s, the government of Canada used its authority to assume control over aboriginal people by entering into a partnership with the Christian churches. In the Nass, as elsewhere across British Columbia, the missionaries and federal Indian agents came to regard the resistance of the clans and the house chiefs as the most serious impediment in their efforts to convert and "civilize" aboriginal people.

The Nisga'a had already been dealing with white explorers and fur traders for several decades. Pragmatic traders themselves, the Nisga'a had, from first contact, shown a willingness to borrow and share with foreign cultures. But as James B. McCullagh and other churchmen set up their missions along the banks of the Nass River, they introduced a harsh, new order with little room for compromise: Accept the terms of a new religion or face eternal damnation.

Historians tell us that the Nisga'a and other First Nations who converted to Christianity were often coerced in fear of eternal damnation into giving up their rattles, head-dresses, ritual pipes, canoes, baskets, masks and totem poles. Many missionaries sold the artifacts to traders who in turn sold them to museums around the world.

missionary men

Today, Nisga'a artifacts collected more than a century ago by early European anthropologists, judges, loggers and missionaries grace thousands of homes across Canada and around the world. To show they were serious about wanting Christian salvation, Nisga'a people who converted to Christianity often handed over ceremonial regalia (shaman rattles, head-dresses, ritual pipes, even totem poles) to missionaries for destruction. Sometimes the pieces were burned; often missionaries kept or sold them. Tragically, many missionaries also mistook Nisga'a family symbols for shamanism or idolatry.

Nonetheless, not all artifact collecting was illicit. In his book, Captured Heritage: The Scramble for Northwest Coast Artifacts, Prof. Douglas Cole writes that many natives voluntarily took part in the frenzied West Coast artifact market of the late 1800s and early 1900s. As tokens of respect, natives also openly gave presents to some early European missionaries, lawyers, Indian agents and anthropologists.

the world a box of souls

Since the Nisga'a considered the world to be like a huge box containing all the souls in the universe wooden boxes were central to Nisga'a cosmology.

The sides of boxes were made from a single cedar board that had been 'kerfed' or bent to form a container with but one seam. The Nisga'a believed life for the individual began in a steamed and bent cradle; those of high rank progressed to a seat, a three-sided box turned inside out. Life was sustained by food kept in bent boxes stacked along the walls of the house. At death, bodies of high rank were placed in coffin boxes; others were cremated.

The lineage or family group a collectivity of souls was contained in a house constructed like a box. Living people entered through the front and sides, while (after the removal of special planks) the deceased left only through the back of the house; the souls departed through the smoke hole above the hearth.

The house was also a living being as well as a container of souls, with both skin (made of removable cedar planks) and bones (the house posts, beams and rafters, which are considered to be arms, legs, backbones and ribs). Similar guardian and crest figures decorated the facade and sides of the house.

The ultimate house/box is the universe, through which the sun passes ever day, entering the front entrance (symbolic of life) and exiting from the back (symbolic of death). During the night the sun passes over the world house but can be seen as starlight shining through the holes in the roof.

The unifying symbol of the box as container of souls and wealth provides a decorative field, used for generations by Nisga'a artists to create complex and subtle designs. It also a visual record, telling the stories of particular families and clans.

animal teeth

Centuries ago, the Nisga'a danced through long winter nights wearing masks carved of red cedar adorned with ivory, mountain goat bone, or animal teeth. The dancers knelt or stood, their feet quite still, their upper bodies twisting with movement, arms arcing in the air. They were celebrating the abundant salmon and oolichan harvests and hunts of the past while expressing hope for the future.

As they danced, they seemed transformed into the creatures depicted on their masks: screeching like ravens, baying like wolves at the moon and wailing like the wind.

This sense of dynamism pervades all Nisga'a art, from the shaman's smallest charm, spoon and miniature mask to the largest totem pole. Present day artists and art historians are captivated by the striking, bold design of Nisga'a artifacts, even as anthropologists and ethnographers search out the origins and development of Nisga'a myths and legends.

In the Nisga'a cosmology, spirits were thought to have held sway over the world before the advent of human beings. The most powerful were the spirits of the sky, mountains and glaciers and of such animals as the bear. These spirits were later called upon to lend assistance to shamans who relied upon their alliances with the spirit world. Shamans were believed to have the power to foresee the future, heal the sick, exorcise evil spirits, bring success in fishing and hunting and control the weather.

A Nisga'a halayt or shaman would fast and spend long days in solitary vigil until a spirit finally revealed itself, sometimes when the shaman was in a trance. Because they were said to be in close contact with the supernatural world, shamans were sometimes feared by others; they often lived alone in the forest, away from the villages they served.

The charms and medicinal tools used by shamans formed an important category of Nisga'a art. Of all Nisga'a creations, masks offered the greatest sculptural variety and were worn at feasts, initiation ceremonies and at curing rituals. At Nisga'a feasts, the head of family would wear the mask which represented the crest animal of his clan. Dancers also wore masks carved to represent animals and birds and supernatural spirits.

ancient voices, re-interpreted

"When I started carving, back in the early 1970s, I was on-call at the local sawmill," recalls Norman Tait. "If you missed the call, you missed a shift and I couldn't afford that.

"One day, filling in time while waiting for the phone to ring, I began to whittle away at some wood I found. It came easily to me and gave me a kind of inner peace. Two years later I sold my first carving to a gallery in Vancouver."

Over the past quarter century, Norman Tait has literally carved himself to fame and in the process contributed to a renaissance of Nisga'a culture. Through his haunting masks and stunning and elegant totem poles, Norman introduced Nisga'a art to the modern world.

Born in the tiny and isolated Nisga'a fishing village of Gingolx, at the mouth of the Nass River, he is self-taught and self-directed. As a young man, he travelled to museums and universities across North America to view the Nisga'a artifacts that had been collected or stolen by early missionaries and anthropologists during the Museum Age.

Norman's timing like that of many great artists was impeccable. For aboriginal people, the early 1970s fomented with a new energy. Through their landmark court challenge, Nisga'a political leaders were demanding self-government and new rights.

Norman soon realized that Nisga'a carving, dancing and other arts so integral to his new-found sense of self would have to be resurrected if they were to survive. Digging deep into his own roots, he realized that pre-Contact Nisga'a culture despite being almost obliterated by 150 years of Western cultural dominance still resonated with mystery and supernatural power. After talking with his grandfather Rufus Watts, his parents and uncles, Norman began to form strong opinions on how his carvings would interpret traditional Nisga'a themes in new, contemporary ways driven by the belief that art must grow in order to survive.

Nisga'a legends and stories of Ayuukhl Nisga'a (the ancient oral code of laws) proved a treasure trove for Norman. The Nisga'a had been, before the arrival of the missionaries, essentially animist in their beliefs; they believed every living thing and natural element had a soul, a purpose, and deserved respect. Some of the images in their traditional art acknowledged the power of the natural world of which the Nisga'a were only a part, and represented their understanding of the world. Thus, it is no surprise that the imagery used by Norman in his masks and poles includes creatures from the natural world, natural elements and forces and human beings. Other images are manifestations of the spirit world, representing supernatural beings.

Some creatures, like the raven, belong to both the natural and spirit worlds. The Nisga'a have many stories about Raven, a prominent supernatural being who could change form. Raven would appear in different villages in different guises animal, human or bird and through his inherent curiosity or sense of mischief, alter the circumstances present in that village. According to Nisga'a legend, it was Raven who brought light to the world.

Many of these supernatural beings were adopted as crests, or symbols of identification, by clans or families or even individuals. (The clan is a subdivision of the tribal group: the number of clans varies from tribe to tribe, and a clan will own a main crest and a number of subcrests.) These clan crests serve as reminders of events in the history of the clan.

Norman's display of crests on poles and on masks and regalia at public ceremonies confirmed the ownership, and defined the territory in which the crests were valid, and brought the power associated with the crests to life.

Over the years, his reputation grew. Critics pointed to his clean lines and an unparalleled sensitivity for the grains and textures of the red cedar and other woods he uses in his sculptures. "I only use paint when it enhances my art," he says. "I trust the natural grains of the wood itself. The grains bring my poles, masks and other sculptures to life."

In 1976, Norman Tait was designated master artist at the Queen's Silver Jubilee Wedding Anniversary celebration. A year later, he held a one-person show at the University of British Columbia's Museum of Anthropology. Since then, he carved the 55-foot Big Beaver Pole at the Field Museum in Chicago, the towering pole at the Heard Museum in Phoenix and the pole at the National Museum of Ethnology in Osaka, Japan. After carving the 37-foot killer whale pole in Scotland, Norman was invited to Buckingham Palace where he was introduced to Queen Elizabeth II.

A recipient of numerous awards including the Commemorative Medal for the 125th Anniversary of Canadian Confederation, he has carved totem poles which have been raised in Stanley Park, Capilano Mall, the Native Education Centre and the Museum of Anthropology. Today, Norman is a respected mentor to a new generation of Nisga'a carvers. In his shop or at the site of his latest poles, he downs tools when young carvers, bursting with questions, come calling. Patient, professorial, he feels duty bound to share the secrets of his solitary craft because, when he first began carving, there was no one to turn to. Just the voices of his ancestors. And Norman Tait was listening.

sacred art in a crawl space

As a boy, playing in the crawl space under his grandfather's house in Gitwinksihlkw, the young Joseph Gosnell did not understand why anyone would carve such beautiful figures on the dusty wooden beams. It was only years later, after returning from residential school, that Joseph realized the foundations of his grandfather's house had once been the towering Nisga'a totem poles that once graced the main street of his village. As the price of a new religion, missionaries had coerced the Nisga'a people into cutting down their own poles. Before they were allowed to embrace Christianity, they had to deny their own spiritual beliefs. Other totem poles were chopped down and floated down river where they were "boomed up" and milled in Prince Rupert.

Today, Nisga'a artifacts are coming home. In 1993, the Anglican Church returned five artifacts, including a mask and shaman's apron, to the Nisga'a, but only after the church infuriated tribal leaders with its plan to sell the artifacts (valued at $300,000) to pay for renovations.

In their landmark Treaty, the Nisga'a successfully negotiated with the Canadian and British Columbian governments the return of specific artifacts. Under the Treaty, the Royal British Columbia Museum and the Canadian Museum of Civilization will return about 300 artifacts to the Nisga'a. Chief Gosnell says the Nisga'a are now using "our own moral suasion" to press for the return of other artifacts currently held by other institutions and private collectors.

_ _ _ _ _