By Susan Hoffman Fishman

Since June of 2017, artists Jarrod Cluck, Gina R. Furnari, sTo Len, Leslie Sobel and Rachel Wojnar have been on an intense physical, emotional, spiritual, and art-making journey, which culminated with their MFA Thesis Exhibition, Confluence, on view at the Joseloff Gallery of the Hartford Art School, University of Hartford (Connecticut) from September 10-19, 2020. 

They are the third cohort to complete the Nomad Interdisciplinary MFA program. Founded by director Carol Padberg in 2015, the program uses an innovative field-based model and offers a curriculum that includes art, ecology, the study of place, indigenous knowledge systems, and technologies. Encompassing two hands-on residencies per year, the Nomad MFA provides courses in El Salvador; New York City; New Mexico; Mexico; Oakland, California; Miami; and Minneapolis.

Having traveled, lived, and worked together for two plus years, the cohort is a cohesive unit. The work in the exhibition, although specific to the preferred media and individual inquiries of each artist, also suggests an on-going conversation among the artists, a collective voice expressing grief over ecological destruction as well as a genuine respect for the natural cycles of life and all living beings on Earth. The topic of water was a common thematic thread running throughout the work – the pollution of our waterways and oceans, the sense of place that bodies of water create, and the liquid resource that enables life itself.

Despite the pandemic, the decision was made by the university to install a physical exhibition in the gallery, but with access limited to the college community only. Virtual programming and resources, including an opening, a tour of the exhibition, artists’ talks, an exhibition catalogue, and a dedicated website were available to the public. The virtual tour and website continue to be accessible online and provide an accurate sense of the exhibition’s richness and power.  

JARROD CLUCK: DIRT

Jarrod Cluck’s body of work in the exhibition was a visual record of his activities during the year 2019 in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas where he lives – observing the land, collecting native plants and seeds, planting and harvesting traditional crops, building a cob kiln, and firing clay pots. As Cluck describes it, “so much of my work is about the soil and how things come into being,” the process of poiesis, or the creation of something that did not exist before. He went on to add that water, the liquid substance deep beneath the soil and raining down upon us, is a collaborator is this creative process and enables the dirt and living beings to exist at all.  

Cluck’s work includes a video collage called Aletheia that was projected onto a scrim in a ninety second loop and documented his working year; a digital print of eggs photographed while they were candled over a six-day period of time; and a handmade book called The Book of Dirt, whose pages consist of the pigmented imprints of the plants he collected as well as “things made from dirt.” Cluck calls the book an almanac of his observations and experiences. A visceral and beautiful object, it begs the viewer to touch the earthy pages and then go play in the soil.  

GINA R. FURNARI: HABIT DWELLS IN PLACE

Gina Furnari is interested in the meaning and construction of place and in “the edge spaces around and within habitat: where bodies, water, land, sea, sky, and light all come together.” Her ceramic Waveforms are reminiscent of the shells she found along the habitats of southern New Jersey, where she lives. They also represent shelters, the places of rest and solace that proximity to water brings. Emanating from the Waveforms through a digital audio system are environmental sounds, including seagulls over Ocean City, artesian wells, wind through oak trees, and car and boat traffic. The undulating shapes of the Waveforms clearly mimicked the motion of ocean waves as they move towards and away from the shoreline.

In her video, On the Edge, A Kind of Bridge, Furnari recorded a performance in which she lies on the sand at the edge of the sea and then in the water near the shore in order to feel how each of the experiences impacted her body. The video was projected onto a vertical window blind. Normally associated with a protective barrier between the outside and inside of a house, the blind implied a sense of home and security. Both the Waveforms and the video projection successfully addressed our common need for the consolation and comfort that occurs in a home and around water.

STO LEN: FUTURE OF A MATERIAL

sto Len’s carefully conceived and striking installation, entitled FOAM (Future of a Material), reflects upon our polluted waters and the toxic, plastic substances within them that will remain in the environment for generations to come. Using pieces of Styrofoam that he found in bodies of water and a self-invented printing process that he calls “Gomitaku” (trash impressions), he created ink prints on “scrolls” of unstretched canvas, linen, and paper. “Gomitaku” is based on the 19th century Japanese printing method, “Gyotaku,” that was used by fishermen to both record and honor their catches. The printed scrolls in the exhibition were hung vertically from monofilament attached to the ceiling of the gallery and directly on the wall suggesting the downward movement and eventual crashing of waterfalls. Walking among the scrolls, one can feel the enormity of the plastic pollution in our waters.

In addition to being a printing process, Len describes “Gomitaku” as “a pictorial writing system, a new language of repetitive marks describing the poisoning of our environment” and notes that “the monumental scale of the installation emphasizes the monumental legacy of pollution” left by companies like Dow Chemical, the makers of Styrofoam, who have put profit over the health of the planet. 

LESLIE SOBEL: CONNECTING CLIMATE, WATER, AND DATA

Leslie Sobel has confronted the topic of water for decades, most recently focusing on the condition of lakes and river systems near her home in the Midwest. She is deeply concerned about pollution and the flooding and environmental damage that climate change has caused to our continental watersheds. Her series of large-scale, mixed media pieces on paper in the exhibition incorporate images from old survey maps as well as drawing and encaustic. The vibrant colors and visually pleasing compositions immediately draw the viewer into the work. At closer inspection, though, it becomes clear that Sobel is issuing a warning about and expressing her grief over the conditions of our water resources. The title, “Inflection Point,” which she used for one of the mixed media works, is a clue to that warning. As she states, “we are at the cusp;” we are at an inflection point where changes must be made in how we serve as stewards of our environment before it is too late.

As the daughter of two scientists, Sobel is finely attuned to scientific systems and often collaborates with scientists in the field. The more intimate, three-dimensional pieces in the exhibition, Alga Flow and Microcystis Box, reference the toxic blooms on Lake Erie and include cast resin pieces incorporating digital prints of photomicrographs of alga as well as digital photographs of Maumee Bay State Park – both in found boxes. The presentation of the objects in a manner similar to the storage of scientific specimens adds weight to their message of environmental crisis.

RACHEL WOJNAR: TO LIVE, ENTANGLED

Rachel Wojnar embraces impermanence. Her intriguing, biodegradable masks in the exhibition were created to decompose, in direct contrast to the way in which the plastic products and other mass-produced, non-biodegradable, toxic materials in our culture remain in landfills and in the ocean for hundreds of years. The masks are also in direct contrast to the death masks dating back to ancient Egypt, which served as a likeness of a person’s face after death and were an attempt to immortalize the figure. Wojnar noted that she sees death, including ecological death, as the opportunity for renewal.  

Fungi is the medium Wojnar used for the decomposition process of her plaster facial casts. She filled the molds with natural substances, such as mushrooms and wood chips that fungi feed on, and then injected mycelium, the feeding structure of fungi, into the cavity. The symbiosis between the plastic cast of Wojnar’s face, the mycelium, and water, which activates the growth of the fungi and all living matter, created an ever-changing, human/non-human form, which underscored what Wojnar refers to as “our need to move from an anthropomorphic view of the world to one in which we are intrinsically tied to all living beings.

Confluence was a particularly fitting title for the combined work of these five artists. Their exhibition was a true confluence, a coming together of their individual styles, choices of material, and pressing personal and environmental interests, creating a narrative of grief, crisis, the cycles of growth and decline, responsibility, and solace. Flowing throughout was the presence of water, the force that makes life possible. 

(Top image: sTo Len, detail of FOAM (FutureOfAMaterial) installation. Gomitaku print, sumi ink on linen, 64” x 360,” 2020. All photographs are courtesy of the artists.)

This article is part of Imagining Water, a series on artists of all genres who are making the topic of water and climate disruption a focus of their work and on the growing number of exhibitions, performances, projects and publications that are appearing in museums, galleries and public spaces around the world with water as a theme.

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Susan Hoffman Fishman is a painter, public artist and writer whose work has been exhibited widely in museums and galleries throughout the U.S. Since 2011, all of her paintings, installations and photographs have addressed water and climate change. She co-created a national, participatory public art project, The Wave, which addresses our mutual need for and interdependence on water and has inspired thousands of adults and children of all ages, abilities and backgrounds to protect this vital resource. Her most recent body of work calls attention to the growing number of rampikes along our shores – trees that have been exposed to salt water and died as a result of rising tides.

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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog

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By Kristina Watt

Over the past two years, I have had the privilege to invite a group of teenagers in Canada, ages 13-17, to consider theatre as a possible means to fight for climate action. These ten youth, Natasha Knight, Anna Carsley-Jones, Sebastien Cimpaye, Sophie Dean, Quinn Lesaux, Jaya Matiation, Olivia Smith, Ethan Whidden, Kaatje Yates, and Paige Young, are all driven by a concern and love for the planet – and are deeply anxious about a future they feel they have inherited. As Sophie says, “We’re a group of teens with a goal and the passion to achieve it. We’re not all the same; we have different backgrounds and ambitions, but we’re united in our goal for climate action through theatre.” Quinn adds, “I would describe us as a group of teenagers who have a strong opinion on climate change; we’re trying to get our voice out there for older and younger audiences and trying to inform them how they can use their voice to control this problem.”

Together, we created and toured our collective theatre creation, 12 â€“ not just to theatres but to corporations and inside government offices. Olivia describes the project as “…a question. A question in desperate need of an answer. We ask for help, we ask if you knew this, and ask you to think about it. And we hope you’ll take action – that 12 will stay with you.” Jaya adds, “12 doesn’t have a traditional plot or storyline. We use physical movements, words, numbers, and twelve stools to portray the calm and chaos of our world now. Many characters are present only momentarily. They are youth activists from around the world and people from Ottawa. But mostly, they are us: it’s our hope and desire for help and cooperation. We ask adults to confront themselves, to care, to question, and to take action.”

However, when theatres shut down in March 2020, their means of taking action came to a standstill. After deliberation, the youth decided that 12 couldn’t be replicated online; it had to be live. From the isolation of all of our homes, we built a digital theatre creation, While We Wait, as a means to question how to navigate a life-on-hold while still wanting change. “We felt we needed to take action, somehow. We didn’t just want to wait till all this was over. Climate change wasn’t waiting so how could we?” says Natasha. “It’s a new way to share our experience and still ask questions while living during COVID,” Anna adds. In While We Wait, the ten teens tell the audience that the world has now become more motivated to take action and cooperate due to the pandemic crisis, but what is happening with climate crisis action? And why did it take a devastating loss of human life when there has been an ongoing loss of all life?

When I was invited to write this article, I felt that I shouldn’t be the only voice but should include the youth themselves. The goal of my work with young people is to allow theatre to communicate their truth, fears, and hungers to audiences of all ages. Speaking from isolation this summer, these ten “unstoppable youth” share their thoughts with me.

Do you think that theatre can actually change people?

Jaya: Yes, I think theatre can change people. When we started creating 12, we didn’t want to talk down to our audience or have a one-sided conversation. We wanted them to question themselves and the world in which we live. Theatre can do just that: ask questions. Change, however, requires more than questions; change requires action. In12, different characters deal with action in different ways, from being unsure of what to do to taking on big corporations. Change is nothing without action and change starts with asking questions. Theatre should ask questions. That’s how it creates change.

Anna: I don’t believe theatre can “change people,” but I absolutely believe it can provoke thoughts and feelings that lead to change. Maybe theatre can be thought of as emotional information – it all depends on what you do with the information. Some may watch a production, feel something, then go home and never think about it again. But others – I hope 12’s audience – will watch, feel and think, then go home and reflect. Reflection means they look deeper than their initial reaction, and hopefully that leads to responding, and responding means changing behaviors. If theatre can do that, then our job has been successful – though it is never complete. 

Natasha: Theatre can absolutely change people! When theatre brings up complex topics in an emotional way, the audience starts to think about the topics. Eventually, they’ll think about the world in a different way. I’ve changed since working on 12. Before, I was aware of the climate crisis and doing my best to help, but since I became part of the project, my climate anxiety has gone up because I’m facing the facts. Instead of just trying my best to help (reusing grocery bags, etc.), I now want to spread the message and share the facts far and wide. I think audiences we’ve had so far also felt the need to spread the message. I hope they’ve actually done so.

Is there anything else you would like to say about your work?

Jaya: Yes. 12 is a conversation about climate anxiety and the lack of action from governments and corporations everywhere.

Sophie: But we don’t want to rant. We want theatre to send a wake-up call to all of us, including us actors. Yes, we’re doing what we can, but is it enough? And if it isn’t, what else should we do?

Kaatje: We created 12 out of our fears regarding climate change and the role that it plays in our futures. You know, I always wondered how theatre groups could tour plays for years and never get bored of them or the roles they played. After performing 12 for as long as I have [8 months], I see that it’s constantly changing, improving, and updating with current events. It’s never the same thing. It’s taken so much effort from all of us to become what it is today. I am very proud of it.

Olivia: Our planet is dying, and it’s terrifying to me. It’s easy to get swept up in the panic, but it’s also easy to ignore the problem. We need an answer to our question, a solution to our problem. We want to act, do you?

In March, you were told that you couldn’t perform live anymore due to the global pandemic. What did that mean to you?

Sebastien: The pandemic came at a time when we were productive. We had a lot of shows on our schedule and were rehearsing every weekend. After CID shut us down, we stopped. Then we had the idea to continue spreading our message through a screen. But we didn’t feel the internet was the right medium for 12. In the live show, we use a lot of movement; we have human pyramids and we make formations with our bodies. This is necessary, it adds something to the story. Would the audience react the same watching us on a screen? Probably not.

Paige: We knew an online version of 12 wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t have the same impact. Stuck inside little Zoom boxes, unable to move around or even see the people watching us? We lost the connection with each other and the audience. We needed to look them in the eye and ask why they leave the burden of climate change to us. On top of that, even though we actors were together online, it felt like we weren’t together in the same space. Theatre on a screen can be great, but not for 12.

Anna: Theatre is about sharing art live. And 12 is about sharing our perspectives about the climate crisis through theatre. We weren’t sure what to do. How can we share when we can’t be within two meters of each other or have an audience in front of us? It was disappointing and still is. But I’m definitely grateful that we brainstormed and created the digital project While We Wait.  It’s a new way to share our experience and still ask questions while living during COVID. But it’s absolutely not as thrilling as being in the same room with an audience.

Natasha: Digital theatre is very different… We recorded some scenes together on Zoom and others by ourselves around our house. It was odd reacting to others’ boxes after repeating a line instead of just looking directly at the actor or audience!

Sebastien: COVID is a weird thing. I think it might be interesting to address performing 12 with a post-COVID audience. We didn’t know this was coming so we haven’t had time to write about it yet. I think that’s what we should do next.

What’s your biggest climate change concern these days?

Quinn: I’m scared that humans are going to cause more animal species to go extinct – maybe even some that haven’t been discovered yet. Also, humans are going to completely eradicate forests and jungles and those are very, very important for life. What we’re doing right now is exactly what we’re not supposed to do!

Anna: One of my biggest concerns is the animal agriculture industry (e.g., factory farming). Animal agriculture causes more greenhouse gas emissions than all forms of transportation added together… yet diet is something that many people (capable of eating sustainably/plant based) aren’t willing to change. 

Ethan: I’m worried about the next generation of humans. If we don’t fix what we’re doing now, me or you might not feel all the effects, but the next generation will have to go through the horrors of climate change. They will go through seeing entire cities go underwater, entire species of animals go extinct. They won’t see what life could have been. They will see the downfall of humanity, and that it’s our fault.

Quinn: So many are clueless about what’s going on in the world! Climate change is a real thing, it’s not something to make jokes about.

Anna: I’m concerned about rising temperatures and lack of water. Many people in the Global South face increased temperatures and therefore a lack of resources (e.g., water and food). Since water dries up in the heat, and lakes and rivers shrink, there’s less water to drink or to grow any food, causing susceptibility to diseases, malnutrition, and death. And the most affected countries are the ones with more poverty and more BIPOC people, and not as much attention and aid is given to them from countries with more resources. So they are more deeply affected by climate change. The climate crisis involves racism, classism, and elitism. Why won’t many acknowledge this?

If you could ask one question to other youth around the world, what would it be? And how would you answer?

Quinn: I would ask them, “How are the challenges you face different from the challenges I face?” Different people face different issues in different parts of the world. If someone asked me this, I’d say some of my challenges are missing the bus, getting to school late, or not knowing what clothes to wear. My challenges are minimal. But kids around the world like in Mexico City or Iran? I’ve heard that they’re scared to go outside, scared to go to school by themselves. That makes me think of how privileged I am compared to them. So what do you struggle with?

If you could ask your parents’ generation one question, what would it be? And, if you were them, how might you answer?

Sebastien: I would ask them, “Was the information we now have on climate change out there at the time? Were others trying to tell you about it?” And if I were one of their generation, I think I’d say that the information was out there but I wasn’t looking into it.

The last line of 12, written by you all, is: “It’s as if I’m a spectator, but it’s real.” What keeps you going?

Olivia: Hope is a tricky thing. The majority of the time, I’m putting all my energy into just getting out of bed. What really gives me hope is 12 and our group. It makes me feel like I’m really doing something. I’m making my voice heard and people are changing as a result.

Kaatje: I often lose hope. I hate to say it but I do. I think it’s hard to stay optimistic when those in charge seem to have “more important” things to do. And as much as people talk about climate change, there’s rarely any real action… at least not where it counts. For example, our government keeps giving the oil industry economic advantages rather than putting money into sustainable energy options. Our prime minister says he plans to ban single use plastics by 2021, but how can I be sure a bill like that will pass?

Sophie: Our powerful generation keeps me going: our refusal to stay silent, and our ability to use the internet for activism. Fear also motivates us – fear of what will happen if we don’t act. The idea that our future is in danger drives us in powerful ways.

Kaatje: It’s easy to blame others. I’m often just as guilty. I contribute to fast fashion… I try not too… I use plastic straws even though I know they end up in the oceans. Let’s just say I don’t have a clean record when it comes to being green. I feel guilty and somewhat hopeless, especially when doom seems to be around the corner. But I know being negative won’t help me. As hard as it is to be positive, I have to have hope. I have to do better. Otherwise, how can I expect others to do the same?

Paige: What gives me hope is the knowledge that, despite it all, there are people out there who are fighting to make a difference. If they can still see a better future for this world, then so can I. 

Courage, all, and thank you.

* * *

I would like to note that there were eleven youth in the ensemble until June 2020 when Saava Boguslavskiy left the group, saying, “I don’t really have hope for the whole situation. From my point of view, it’s all too late. I feel my contribution to the play is only going to deteriorate and I don’t want to have a negative impact.” Saava, age 16, continues to contribute in his own way; he composed the music for While We Wait and for the live version of 12.

(All photos except screenshot by Brigitte Pellerin.)

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Kristina Watt is an award-winning actor and theatre creator with an unshakeable passion for collaborating with youth on projects that question our relationship with the planet and with each other. She is driven to question where science intersects with the arts, and to create theatre that sits within that fusion. She is the Artistic Director of 100 Watt Productions and since relocating to Ottawa from New York City where she worked in theatre and TV and taught youth in inner city schools, she has performed at theatres including the National Arts Centre, Great Canadian Theatre Company, New Theatre of Ottawa, Third Wall, and St Lawrence Shakespeare Festival.

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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog

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By GiGi Buddie

Like many Americans, growing up I was taught that Christopher Columbus, the Italian explorer, discovered America. Our nation’s history celebrated his explorations by erecting statues, writing textbooks, dedicating an entire day for his memory to be celebrated, and much more. It wasn’t until I was much older and was given new perspectives on the history of my people and this nation that I learned: one, a place cannot be “discovered” if people already inhabited the land; and two, Christopher Columbus never even set foot on the North American continent. His travels led him to the Carribean Islands (now the Bahamas) and to parts of Central and South America. So why is it that the United States commemorates his memory and explorations so deeply? 

Every place where Columbus anchored had an entire ecosystem of thriving Indigenous tribes with established governments, traditions, art, and culture. These were Indigenous communities that worked in rhythm with the Earth and its inhabitants, never taking too much and always giving back. In short, Columbus didn’t “discover” America. He, and Europe, were simply made aware of the fact that this land, and these people, existed and thrived in a place they had not yet touched. As the editors of History wrote in their article “Why Columbus Day Courts Controversy,” Columbus, like many other European “explorers” of the New World, pioneered and contributed to the “use of violence and slavery, the forced conversion of native peoples to Christianity and the introduction of a host of new diseases that would have dramatic long-term effects on native people in the Americas.”

It was not until 1989 that South Dakota became the first state to switch Columbus Day to Native Americans’ Day. Then in 1992, Berkley, California became the first city to symbolically rename Columbus Day Indigenous Peoples’ Day. This reflected an acknowledgment of the need to protest the historical conquest of North America by Europeans, and to stand in solidarity with and recognize the extensive losses suffered by Indigenous People through diseases, warfare, massacres, and forced assimilation. Each year, beginning in 2014, hundreds of American cities, as well as entire states have officially renamed the day, and recently it has been celebrated in spectacle in major cities across the U.S.

For this special installment in my Indigenous Voices series, I have decided to pair the history of Indigenous People’s Day with the earliest form of theatre: storytelling. All of the stories you will read come from various tribes in the United States, and each tells its own history in powerful and intricate ways. They highlight the culture of the tribe and lend new perspectives to the creation of the world, war, love, and the relationship mankind has with the Earth. Some of these stories I grew up with, and others found their way to me through literature and conversation. I hope that they bring you as much joy as they have brought me, and I hope that they open your mind to both new and old ways to live with the Earth. Today, we celebrate the people who cared for the land that we now live on, and the cultures that have survived through the worst feats imaginable. But let us not forget that today is also for the people, cultures, and traditions that have been lost through colonization, assimilation, and genocide. These stories are their legacy. 

WHERE THE GIRL SAVED HER BROTHER

CHEYENNE

In the summer of 1876, the two most memorable battles between soldiers and Indians were fought on the plains of Montana. The first fight was called the Battle of the Rosebud. The second, fought about a week later, was called the Battle of Little Bighorn, and is where Colonel Custer was defeated and killed. The Cheyennes called the Battle of the Rosebud the Fight Where the Girl Saved her Brother. 

Three columns of cavalry entered the last stretch of land left to the American Indians, led by Generals Crook, Terry, and Colonel Custer. Crook had about 2,000 men with him, and had artillery and Indian Scouts to guide him. At the Rosebud, he fought the united Siouxand Cheyenne Warriors. On the other side, many proud tribes were there besides the Cheyenne – the Hunkpapa, the Minniconjou, the Oglala, and the Burnt Thighs. Leading the Sioux were the great Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull â€“ what a sight it was to see! As the fight began, Crazy Horse of the Oglala shouted his famous war cry: “A good day to die, and a good day to fight! Cowards to the rear, brave hearts – follow me!”

The fight started. Many brave deeds were done as the battle swayed to and fro. More than anybody else’s, this was the Cheyenne’s fight. Among them was a brave young girl, Buffalo Calf Road Woman, who rode proudly beside her husband, Black Coyote. Her brother, Chief Comes in Sight, fought in the battle too. Searching the chaos, she found him surrounded with his horse killed from under him. Soldiers were aiming their rifles at him while their Crow scouts circled him and waited for an opportunity to strike. But he fought them off with great courage and skill. 

Buffalo Calf Road Woman uttered a piercing, high pitched war cry and raced her horse into the midst of the enemy. Her brother jumped up on her horse behind her as she laughed with joy and the excitement of battle. The soldiers were firing at her, but she moved too fast for her or her brother to be hit. The Indians and soldiers saw what she was doing, and stopped fighting to watch the brave girl saving her brother’s life. The battle was still young and not many men had been killed on either side. But the white general was thinking: If their women fight like this, what will their warriors be like? Even if I win, I will lose half my men. And so General Crook retreated his regiment a hundred miles from the battle. He was to have joined up with Custer, but when Custer had to fight the same Cheyenne and Sioux a week later, Crook was too far away to aid him and Custer’s regiment was wiped out. So, in a way, Buffalo Calf Road Woman contributed to the victory of that battle too. Many who saw what she had done thought that she had achieved the biggest coup of all: not taking a life, but giving it. The memory of her bravery will last as long as there are Indians.

COYOTE PLACES THE STARS

WASCO

There were once five wolves, all brothers, who traveled together. Whatever meat they hunted they would share with Coyote. One evening, Coyote saw the wolves looking up at the sky. 

“What are you looking at up there, my brothers?” asked Coyote.

The youngest wolf turned to the other wolves and said, “Let’s tell Coyote what we see up there. I’m sure he won’t do anything.” 

So they told him: “We see two animals up there. Way up there into the sky, where we cannot reach them.”

“Let’s go up and see them,” said Coyote as he gathered a great number of arrows and began shooting them into the sky. The first arrow stuck in the sky and the second arrow stuck in the first arrow. Each arrow stuck in the end of the one before until there was a great ladder reaching down to the earth. The oldest wolf took his dog with him and they started the climb. For many days and nights they climbed until at last they reached the sky. They stood in the sky and looked over at the two animals… They were two grizzly bears. The younger wolves started towards the bears in curiosity. Only the oldest wolf and his dog held back. When the wolves got near the bears, nothing happened. The wolves sat down and looked at the bears while the bears sat and looked at the wolves. Once the oldest wolf realized it was safe, he too went over with his dog and sat down with them. 

Coyote examined the scene, but he would not go over. That makes a nice picture, thought Coyote. I think I’ll leave it that way for everyone to see. Then when people look at them in the sky they will say, â€œThere’s a story about that picture,” and they will tell a story about me.

So Coyote left, climbed down the ladder, and once down on Earth he admired the arrangement he had left up in the sky. Today, the animals still look the same. They call those stars the Big Dipper now. If you look up there at the sky, you will see the three wolves that make up the handle and the oldest wolf, the one in the middle, still has his dog with him. The two youngest wolves make up part of the bowl under the handle, and the two grizzlies make up the other side, the one that points toward the North Star. 

When Coyote saw how they looked, he wanted to fill the sky with stars. He arranged stars all over the sky in great pictures and then made the Big Road across the sky with the stars he had left. “When I am gone, everyone will look up into the sky and see the stars arranged this way. Tell them I was the one who did that.”

HOW BEAVER STOLE FIRE FROM THE PINES

NEZ PERCE

Before there were any people in the world, the different animals and trees lived and talked together just like human beings. The pine trees had the secret of fire and guarded it carefully, so that no matter how cold it was, they could always warm themselves. During a fiercely cold winter, plan after plan was hatched to discover the pines’ secret, but they were all in vain until Beaver thought up a plan. At a certain place on the Grande Ronde River in Idaho, the pines were about to hold a great council. They had built a large fire to keep warm, with sentinels posted to stop intruders from trying to steal the fire secret. But Beaver had hidden under the bank near the fire, and when a live coal rolled down the bank he seized it and ran as fast as he could.

The pines immediately started after him. Whenever they were close behind, Beaver would dart from side to side to dodge his pursuers. The Grande Ronde River preserves the direction Beaver ran, and this is why it is tortuous and twisted in some parts and straight in others. After running for a long time, the pines grew tired. Most of them halted together on the river banks, where they remain in great numbers to this day. A few pines kept chasing Beaver, but they gave out one after another, and so they remain scattered at intervals along the banks of the river in the places they stopped. 

There was, however, one cedar who ran at the forefront of the pines. He said to the few trees who were still in the chase, “He’s too quick. We can’t catch him, but I’ll go to the top of the hill and see how far ahead he is.” So he ran to the top of the hill, but could not find Beaver. Beaver had crossed the Big Snake River and given fire to some willows, birches, and several other kinds of trees. Since then, all who have wanted fire have gotten it from these particular trees, because they have fire within them and give it up when their wood is rubbed in the ancient way. 

If you look to the top of the hill, near the junction of Grande Ronde and Big Snake rivers, you can still see Cedar standing alone. He is very old, so old that his top is dead but he still stands as a testament to this story’s truth. The old people still point him out to the children as they pass by. “Look,” they say, “that is old Cedar standing in the very spot where he stopped chasing Beaver.”

PUSHING UP THE SKY

SNOHOMISH

The Creator and Changer first made the world in the East and as he slowly came westward, he brought many languages and he gave a different one to each group of people he made. When he reached Puget Sound, he liked it so much that he decided to go no further. But he had many languages left, so he scattered them all around Puget Sound and to the north. That’s why there are so many different Indian languages spoken there. 

Although these people could not talk with each other, none of them were pleased with the way the Creator had made the world. The sky was so low that the tall people bumped their heads against it. The wise men of the different tribes had a meeting and agreed that all the people and animals were to lift the sky and push it upwards. So the wise men sent a message to all the people and animals and told them the day the sky was to be lifted. Everyone made large poles from giant fir trees. They pushed and pushed together until the sky settled into the place it is now. Since then, no one has bumped their head against it, or been able to climb into the Sky World. 

Now, three hunters had been chasing four elks during the meetings and were not aware of the plan. Just as the people and animals were ready to push the sky up, the three hunters and the four elks came to the place where the Earth nearly meets the sky. The elks jumped into the Sky World, and the hunters ran after them. When the sky was lifted, the elks and hunters were lifted too. In the Sky World they were transformed into stars, and at night, even now, you can see them. The three hunters form the handle of the Big Dipper. The middle hunter has his dog with him – now a tiny star – and the four elks make up the bowl of the Big Dipper. Their story lives on and is forever encapsulated in the constellations we still see above us each night.

THE CELESTIAL BEAR* 

IROQUOIS 

A grizzly bear had been terrorizing a small village so three warriors were sent to track, find, and kill the bear. They tracked the bear all the way into the sky where they became trapped. The hunters wounded the bear, and now are memorialized in the stars above. The warriors and bear sit still in the sky as the constellation known as Ursa Major, and the blood of the wounded bear paints the trees red in the fall as the Big Dipper glides across the horizon.

*Ursa Major, my own song, tells the Iroquois story of the Celestial Bear. If you wish to listen to it, you can do so here.

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I would like to acknowledge the book American Indian Myths and Legends, compiled and edited by Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz, as the reference for some of these stories, and my own library of stories passed down to me. 

For ideas on how you can celebrate Indigneous People’s Day from quarantine, check out this article from Smithsonian Magazine.

(Top image: Chicano students from the University of Wisconsin at Madison protest Columbus Day on October 12, 1992, the Columbus quincentennial. 500 years of resistance, UW-Madison Library Archives.)

This article is part of the Indigenous Voices series.

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GiGi Buddie is an American Indian artist and student studying theatre, with an emphasis in acting, at Pomona College. Whether it be through acting or working in tech, GiGi has dedicated much of her life to the theatre. In the summer of 2019, her passion for art and environmental justice took her to the Baram River in Malaysian Borneo where she, alongside Pomona professors, researched the environmental crisis and how it has been affecting the Indigenous groups that live along the river. As a result of her experience researching and traveling, she student-produced the Pomona College event for Climate Change Theatre Action during the fall 2019 semester.

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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

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