Turquoise is an iconic symbol of Southwest style, in large part because turquoise beads have been made in the Southwest for thousands of years. The Ancestral Pueblo people, ancestors of today’s Pueblo tribes, mined turquoise in Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. Chaco Canyon, a major Ancestral Puebloan center, was at the center of turquoise trade routes stretching from the Pacific Northwest to Central America.
Turquoise was not set in silver until the late 19th century when Zuni and Navajo artisans learned metalsmithing. The blue and green gem quickly became a favorite with Native American silversmiths, and was extremely popular with tourists visiting the Southwest in the early 20th century. Some Native Americans believe the gem was a gift from the spirits and call it the Sky Stone. Today, turquoise is one of the most iconic representations of the Southwest, and is still revered among Native American jewelry artists and collectors.
Joe Dan Lowry is one of the foremost experts on turquoise. His family has been involved in the turquoise trade for generations, and he has authored books on the subject, given countless lectures and presentations, and even established the popular Turquoise Museum located in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Watch our exclusive video interview with Joe Dan Lowry, retrieved from our archives by popular demand.
Pueblo Book Club Suggested Reading
The Pueblo Revolt of 1680 was a revolution against Spanish religious, economic, and political institutions imposed upon the pueblos. It is the only successful Native uprising against a colonizing power in North America, and resulted in the removal of Spanish from Pueblo lands for more than a decade. The Pueblo Revolt helped ensure the survival of Pueblo cultural traditions, land, language, religion, and sovereignty.
Po’pay of Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo (formerly referred to as San Juan Pueblo) organized and led the revolt. A date for collective rebellion was set, and runners were sent to all the pueblos carrying knotted cords which represented the number of days until the day of uprising. Each morning, the Pueblo leadership untied one knot from the cord, and when the last knot was untied, it was the signal for them to act in unison.
The successful revolt kept the Spanish out of New Mexico for 12 years, and established a different power dynamic upon their return. You can read more about Po’pay and the Pueblo Revolt in this suggested reading from our Cultural Educator, Jon Ghahate (Laguna/Zuni).
Since time immemorial, Pueblo communities have celebrated seasonal cycles through prayer, song, and dance. These dances connect us to our ancestors, community, and traditions while honoring gifts from our Creator. They ensure that life continues, and that connections to the past and future are reinforced.
The Indian Pueblo Cultural Center is the only place in North America to offer Native American dances every week year-round, showcasing dance groups from the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico, as well as Plains Style, Navajo, Apache, and Hopi dancers.
Pueblo dances are held on feast days and special ceremonial days. Pueblo dance areas are known as plazas, and are built as central spaces between housing structures. These plazas are left uncovered so Pueblo dancers retain the connection with nature necessary for Pueblo spirituality. Our dance circle is outside in our large, mural-lined courtyard for the same reason. Many Pueblo dances are never seen outside the individual pueblos. What visitors see at IPCC are social dances that are meant to be shared with the public, and several of our dance groups have a Round Dance, inviting visitors to join in the celebration.
Watch a cultural dance 360º video below. Click and drag to see different angles!
The Indian Pueblo Cultural Center is a place where Pueblo people can tell their story through permanent and rotating exhibits, frequent cultural and educational events, and our cultural dance program. As the gateway to the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico, the IPCC is essential for residents and visitors to New Mexico, providing an introduction for understanding the state’s landscape, legacy, and story of continuance.
Through our permanent exhibit, “We Are of This Place: The Pueblo Story,” we share the Pueblo people’s legacy of resilience, telling the Pueblo story in the words and voices of Pueblo people. The exhibit’s design is inspired by traditions that have been passed down for generations, and its displays honor our land and all living things.
“We Are of This Place: The Pueblo Story” opened in April 2016 as part of our year-long 40th Anniversary celebration. The Indian Pueblo Cultural Center first opened its doors to the public in 1976, and this marked the museum’s first major renovation exhibit since our founding. Through it, we seek to do justice to the history and accomplishments of the Pueblo people of New Mexico.
Admission to the IPCC museum is a key source of funding for our nonprofit institution. Since we had to temporarily close our museum to the public due to the COVID-19 public health emergency, we would appreciate any donation you can make to IPCC. As always, we appreciate your support and recognize how important you are to helping us achieve our mission of preserving and perpetuating Pueblo culture.
From Mud Pies to Masterpieces: The Chronicle of Clarence Cruz
There’s an old familiar adage stating that no matter the task or journey, you’ve got to start somewhere. “I first started out with mud pies in the ditch,” Clarence Cruz says with a hearty laugh. (See Clarence’s bio and shop his pottery here >)
“I come from a family of potters, and they’re no longer here. It’s just my sister and me. She’s the one who said, ‘Clarence, you need to get going on this.’ Her name is Bernadette Cruz Aguino, and my godmother is Felicita Montoya Garcia, whose mom is Tomasita Montoya, one of the revivalists of the older styles of Ohkay Owingeh under Regina Cata. The need to bring it back within the family was there, let alone the community. That’s how I started.”Now an Assistant Professor of Studio Arts at the University of New Mexico, Clarence is a well-known and award-winning pottery artist and instructor from Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo. He began making pottery at 10 or 11 years of age, but worked with the clay only occasionally and casually for close to another decade.
The years right after high school is the time when everything changed. “It was a calling. I was made to do it,” Clarence says. “Something deep down inside was like, ‘Clarence, you need to do this, to bring it back.”
The influence of community and family potters left an impression on Clarence early on, like their fingerprints in the moist clay they pinched and coiled. “They were always making pots in the morning. They lived close by and they always came into the house…where I grew up in Ohkay Owingeh. All the aunties would come in and make pottery. I always thought they were making tortillas [laughs], hearing the patting back and forth, and I was hungry [laughs]. As I moved on in age and grew up, I was dabbling in clay here and there, but as I grew older, it was ‘I need to do this.’”
That calling seemed to come from somewhere beyond just Clarence and his sister. “With me, it’s not just about me, it’s about who my pieces represent: my people, where I come from,” he says.
Clarence credits his abilities to having some of the best teachers. He studied under his godmother, Felicita Montoya Garcia; Mary Lewis Garcia, daughter of renowned Acoma potter Lucy Lewis; and many other artists.
The Pueblo core values of reciprocity and gratitude perhaps run even deeper for Clarence than the call of the clay. He carries with him the gratitude for all those who have taken the time to teach him. “I always give honor and praise to them in everything I do, and when I talk about pottery, they’re not left out—they’re always mentioned. I give thanks for them sharing and giving me the knowledge to continue what I do, and also at the same time, passing it on to those who are willing to learn. I’m giving back in that way.”
“It’s a lot of giving, but it always comes back in a good way,” he adds. “In the time of need from the community, or outside of your own community, Indigenous peoples might need a particular piece for a particular reason. It’s not always about selling the piece, it’s always about what the piece represents, and for the purpose—there’s always a purpose.”
Through the university, cultural centers, and other programs, Clarence has certainly found his purpose, estimating that he’s taught between 800 and 900 students how to make pottery.
Students usually approach him with more than a casual or passive interest. “It’s just that something down deep inside, whether it’s family who used to do pottery, or the need of a pot for a particular purpose within the communities not being seen or done, that’s why they come looking for individuals like me who share that knowledge with them.”
Occasionally, Clarence will see a student who’s already an accomplished potter. He always asks, “Why are you coming to me?” The answer is always that they’re there to learn a different technique or method, such as creating pottery with micaceous clay. He has even taught fellow Pueblo Pottery Mug artists Martha Romero and Helen Bird.
Clarence has bestowed his knowledge of pottery-making to Native and non-Native students alike. Pueblo potters collect clay from ancestral sources within their own pueblos, which isn’t an option for people who aren’t members of that specific pueblo. When working with students from any cultural background, Clarence takes them to different locations on Bureau of Land Management or Forest Service lands to learn about and collect natural clay.
Regardless of a student’s cultural background, Clarence desires them to carry on the Pueblo core value of reciprocity. “My hopes when they acquire the knowledge and skills from any one of us who are willing to share that, is that they pass on that knowledge also, and give it back in another way.”
With all of the time devoted to teaching others, Clarence still finds time to be creative for his own needs. To cut out distractions, he works in his basement studio with no windows, no clocks, no concept of day or night—only the creative mind. “I just work until my wife comes down and says, ‘Do you know what time it is?!’ That’s when I have to stop, and sometimes it’s two or three o’ clock in the morning.”
One of the creative endeavors Clarence found time for was the Pueblo Pottery Mug project. As with all of the pottery mug artists, he found creating the exact size and shape challenging.
“Well, it took me about eight tries. The shrinkage, the cracking on the bottom, because cylinders are hard to make,” he says. “It was just getting the right size and making it happen. When it happens, it will happen in its own time, not my time. Saying prayers and asking for guidance in it to come out, to represent my people from my home. But it was fun, I enjoyed it. It was a great exercise.”
Clarence hopes that the international distribution of the mugs will pique people’s interest and inspire them to learn more about the pueblos—their arts, history, and culture. He is proud to represent his pueblo and people with his traditional Ohkay Owingeh design.
“I feel honored and blessed to share that. It’s not every day that you’re asked to make something for a particular purpose, one which will also assist the 19 different pueblos and the IPCC.”
In January 2015, five Pueblo potters, Erik Fender (San Ildefonso), Elizabeth Medina (Zia), Frederica Antonio (Acoma), Patricia Lowden (Acoma), and Robin Teller (Isleta), were commissioned by the Indian Pueblo Store to create traditional Pueblo pottery in the form of a contemporary coffee mug, which could be replicated.
The popularity of the mugs prompted the commission of a second series of Pueblo Pottery Mugs, this time with designs by Martha Romero (Nambé), Carlos Laate (Zuni), Denise Chavarria (Santa Clara), Helen Bird (Santo Domingo), and a collaboration from Lisa Holt (Cochiti) and Harlan Reano (Santo Domingo).
Series two debuted with Martha Romero’s design just before Christmas 2017, with the others being released at intervals through mid-February 2018. Series three debuted in October 2018 with mugs from Juanita Fragua (Jemez), Clarence Cruz (Ohkay Owingeh), Natalie Sandia (Jemez), Myron Sarracino (Laguna), and Hubert Candelario (San Felipe). The goal is to eventually have potters from each of New Mexico’s 19 Pueblos produce a mug design representing their pueblo.
The originals for series one through three are on display at the Indian Pueblo Store, located inside the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. All of the participating artists receive royalties for each mug sold, with proceeds also supporting the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico.
Guided by Many Grandmas: The Pottery of Myron Sarracino
Nestled along the Rio San José between golden-brown mesas and Route 66 lies the Laguna Pueblo village of Seama, where potter Myron Sarracino calls home.
Pottery-making was a family skill, one in which Myron took an early interest. “My grandma used to make a little clay, then use it to make little bowls, ashtrays, and stuff like that,” Myron remembers. “She used to sell at Laguna by the church, and just watching her do that, I wanted to try, so that’s when I got into it more.”
Myron started making tiny bowls and animals around age 12, seeking guidance from any elder willing to share it. “That’s how I learned a lot,” he says, “by questions, and by them showing me, like demonstrating what I need to do, how to prepare the clay, where to get the clays, the paints—how to make the paints—how to do my firings and stuff like that.”
“I was taught by a lot of my grandmothers in Laguna—many grandmas, lots of grandmas,” Myron says, eager to learn more about a skill and art he was seeing less of throughout Laguna. “I asked all their knowledge because they were not creating pottery like they used to, like long ago. Pottery just got me. I like to work with the clay.”
“Long ago” is a recurrent theme for Myron, including finding inspiration in ancestral designs: “I’ve been studying all my life the pottery I’ve seen at ruins, or broken, big pieces of pots I’ve found, and take pictures or jot down the design on a piece of paper.”
That ancestral element often goes beyond just the design—it frequently has a physical presence, too. Like many traditional potters, Myron incorporates old potsherds into his clay. “I go out where there are old ruins near my house and go pick buckets of sherds, and those are all pounded up and ground real fine on the rock,” he says. “I find that better than on the mill that people use to grind corn and stuff. I like pounding it. My sisters help me, and when they’re not doing it, then my nieces help me grind, and it’s just ground like flour—real fine, and strained.”
Also keeping with tradition, Myron still gathers his clay and pigments by hand. “There are three mines I go to for clay,” he says. “There’s one right there at the village of Laguna, north of the village. The other is the village where I live, Seama. Up the side of the mesa I found a source to get clay. I use those two mainly. The third one I get makes my pots a tan color, and I get it between Albuquerque and Laguna. There’s a source in the river where I get that clay.”
Having seen the decline in potters at Laguna, Myron knows the importance of teaching the traditional craft. “Our village, they asked me to have pottery classes,” he says, “so for a couple of years I had classes, and most of the kids were between the ages of 7 and 15. I showed them all the traditional ways of doing pottery—I taught them.” Myron also demonstrates the various processes of traditional pottery-making at trading posts and other locations.
Myron was enthusiastic about participating in the celebrated Pueblo Pottery Mug project. “I saw the other mugs out in different shops all over the place,” he says, “and then when I was asked, I just felt like ‘All right! I’m gonna try this!’ I was just excited about trying something new.”
“Getting it so perfect into the size, the dimensions that they wanted, that was a little challenging,” Myron admits, “‘cause usually cups I make are round with a handle.” Despite the challenging nature of the task, he got it perfect on only the second try—a detail he partially credits to using volcanic ash as a tempering material for the mug instead of his usual ground potsherds. The clay experiences less shrinkage with the ash, making the final size more predictable.
Myron says the design for his mug came easily. “Although most of my work is prehistoric recreations of potsherds I see, I wanted to show Laguna designs on the mug, a traditional pattern from Laguna. It just came to me to use a rainbow. Something just comes to me when I see a pot—I know what goes on there and I’ll paint that on. I’ve done rainbow pots similar to that with bold designs on it.”
Pueblo Pottery Mugs are available across the globe, in many more places than one usually finds Pueblo pottery represented, which very much appeals to Myron. “It’s happy for me, because a piece of Laguna is being out there, and people can see it and show interest in pottery from Laguna,” he says. “I want to spark their interest in the Pueblo culture, and know the pueblo it comes from, because there aren’t very many potters in Laguna. When I first was asked to make the cup, I told my village officials I’ll be representing the Pueblo of Laguna with this, and now I can take that cup and show them, this is what I’ve done.”
Earlier, Myron mentioned that clay just got him, and he loves working with it. And to be sure, there is certainly no shortage of people who love what he does with that hand-sourced clay, as he’s made a career out of pottery-making. “I’ve been doing pottery all my life, practically,” he says,
In January 2015, five Pueblo potters, Erik Fender (San Ildefonso), Elizabeth Medina (Zia), Frederica Antonio (Acoma), Patricia Lowden (Acoma), and Robin Teller (Isleta), were commissioned by the Indian Pueblo Store to create traditional Pueblo pottery in the form of a contemporary coffee mug, which could be replicated.
The popularity of the mugs prompted the commission of a second series of Pueblo Pottery Mugs, this time with designs by Martha Romero (Nambé), Carlos Laate (Zuni), Denise Chavarria (Santa Clara), Helen Bird (Santo Domingo), and a collaboration from Lisa Holt (Cochiti) and Harlan Reano (Santo Domingo).
Series two debuted with Martha Romero’s design just before Christmas 2017, with the others being released at intervals through mid-February 2018. Series three debuted in October 2018 with mugs from Juanita Fragua (Jemez), Clarence Cruz (Ohkay Owingeh), Natalie Sandia (Jemez), Myron Sarracino (Laguna), and Hubert Candelario (San Felipe). The goal is to eventually have potters from each of New Mexico’s 19 Pueblos produce a mug design representing their pueblo.
The originals for series one through three are on display at the Indian Pueblo Store, located inside the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. All of the participating artists receive royalties for each mug sold, with proceeds also supporting the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico.
Elder Hands of the Corn Clan: Jemez Pueblo’s Juanita Fragua
The first three paragraphs of this post were added in December 2023: We extend our deepest condolences on the passing of the esteemed artist, Juanita C. Fragua. Her legacy as a skilled potter and dedication to showcasing the beauty of Jemez Pueblo’s artistry have left an indelible mark. As an inaugural artist of the Indian Pueblo Store’s Pueblo Pottery Mug project, we’ve been blessed with the opportunity to share the beauty of Juanita’s work through her beautifully designed tanware mug, adorned with captivating polychrome elements including the corn, a celebration of her Corn Clan heritage. Over the years, we’ve laughed, celebrated, and enjoyed seeing the beautiful creations that Juanita has created.
Through her beautiful works of art, she became an integral part of the Santa Fe Indian Market, showcasing her work since 1971 and garnering acclaim and awards from prestigious Native art markets. Her impact extends beyond the tangible beauty of her pottery; Juanita Fragua was a cultural ambassador, a mother, a grandmother, a friend and over her lifetime contributed significantly to the promotion of Jemez artists.
May her spirit soar and her artistic contributions endure as a lasting tribute to her profound impact on Native American art.
Gratitude for every day that you are able to use your skills and gifts to create is one of the core values of Pueblo potters. Juanita Fragua of Jemez Pueblo has a lot to be grateful for.
At 83, Juanita is a full-time potter. “That’s all I do. I have my granddaughter taking care of me. She cleans the house and cooks for me. I just do my thing, and go in the shop and work—all day, every day” she says proudly. When asked if she ever allows herself a break, she says, “I take a break at about three o’ clock or something—I get tired so I lay down.”
Juanita is known for her wedding vases, which are in demand. “I used to watch my mom make wedding vases, and that’s what I’m doing now—always making wedding vases,” Juanita says. “People call me when their son or daughter is getting married so I can make a wedding vase for them.”
Juanita learned pottery-making from her mother around 1948. “I used to watch my mom making potteries when I was 13 years old. And they used to keep telling me to go ahead and make something,” she says. “So I really started about 13 years old, but then I didn’t have time, I had to go to school.”
School and other obligations came between her and the clay for several years, only allowing for occasional practice. “After I got married … we moved to St. Louis, and I used to make small stuff, and then from St. Louis we moved back, and then we moved to San Francisco,” Juanita says. “That’s where I really started to do it, too. That was in [’64].”
Taking up the family art more prominently eventually became a necessity. “I said to myself, ‘I’ll do it because I didn’t graduate from high school, and there’s no place I can find a job. Maybe if I start doing potteries and sell them, and support my family that way.’”
While living in St. Louis and San Francisco, Juanita made and sold her Jemez pottery. “We used to come home and visit parents, and used to take the clay and all the ingredients [back] out there. I was using commercial paints, but right now I use natural paints. We came back home to the reservation in [1973].”
Juanita’s voice carries the weight, wisdom, character, and grace of more than 80 years of life, loss, and love. She is full of humor, and is quick to chuckle. Despite her age, she still goes through her self-described 19-step process of making traditional Jemez pottery—even gathering the white tempering material, a risky undertaking for anyone, regardless of age.
Her skill and large body of work made her a prime candidate for the Pueblo Pottery Mug project. When asked what captured her interest in participating, she says with a laugh, “They asked me! They wanted an elder to do it, so they’re all teasing me, telling everybody—I’m 83—that I’m close to 90.”
It took Juanita three tries to get the exact shape and size of the mug, but the real challenge was deciding on the imagery.
“They wanted a traditional design, and I had to sit there and think, ‘What, what is the traditional design?’ So I remembered that my mom was … always using that step design,” she says. “That’s what my mother used to use, to put on her pottery. When I would do my own, I started putting a corn stalk on them, because we’re Corn Clan on my mother’s side.”
Juanita says deciding on the imagery is always a difficult part, whether with the Pueblo Pottery Mug or a wedding vase. “…And it’s so hard, what to put on there. You sit there and look at the pot, ‘What kind of designs should I put,’ and then I’m looking at the pot, ‘What kind of design am I going to put?’ and sometimes while I’m looking at a pot, I fall asleep,” she admits with a playful and endearing chuckle
Juanita’s artistic legacy extends well beyond her own body of work, as her children include accomplished artists—potters B.J. Fragua and Glendora Fragua, and sculptor Cliff Fragua.
In January 2015, five Pueblo potters, Erik Fender (San Ildefonso), Elizabeth Medina (Zia), Frederica Antonio (Acoma), Patricia Lowden (Acoma), and Robin Teller (Isleta), were commissioned by the Indian Pueblo Store to create traditional Pueblo pottery in the form of a contemporary coffee mug, which could be replicated.
The popularity of the mugs prompted the commission of a second series of Pueblo Pottery Mugs, this time with designs by Martha Romero (Nambé), Carlos Laate (Zuni), Denise Chavarria (Santa Clara), Helen Bird (Santo Domingo), and a collaboration from Lisa Holt (Cochiti) and Harlan Reano (Santo Domingo).
Series two debuted with Martha Romero’s design just before Christmas 2017, with the others being released at intervals through mid-February 2018. Series three debuted in October 2018 with mugs from Juanita Fragua (Jemez), Clarence Cruz (Ohkay Owingeh), Natalie Sandia (Jemez), Myron Sarracino (Laguna), and Hubert Candelario (San Felipe). The goal is to eventually have potters from each of New Mexico’s 19 Pueblos produce a mug design representing their pueblo.
The originals for series one through three are on display at the Indian Pueblo Store, located inside the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. All of the participating artists receive royalties for each mug sold, with proceeds also supporting the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico.
Cartoonist Ricardo Caté was Drawn to Standing Rock
Sometimes in life we feel an irresistible pull toward a place, a person, or an unfolding chapter of history. Whether it’s due to a sense of duty, or just overwhelming curiosity, we are compelled to answer that siren song. Santo Domingo Pueblo cartoonist Ricardo Caté felt that call with the protests surrounding the Dakota Access Pipeline. Below, in an intimate interview with IPCC, he shares an insider’s view of the Standing Rock protests.
Ricardo Caté approaches police line at Standing Rock
On August 26, 2016, Ricardo was dropping his daughter off at Fort Lewis College in Durango, CO. They were planning to go out to eat once she unpacked her things and got semi-settled. While he was waiting, Ricardo got on his daughter’s computer and started seeing the NoDAPL movement.
“What caught my attention was that this pipeline was originally slated to go a mile north of Bismarck, predominantly white, and they said ‘No, you’re not going to do that,’ and the pipeline said ‘Okay’ and so they moved it 26 miles south, just a mile north of the Standing Rock reservation, and all of a sudden it’s okay. And that’s what got me—it just got to me.”
Ricardo looked up how far Standing Rock was from Ft. Lewis—around 1,000 miles. He knew the fridge was full at home, and that all of the bills were up to date, and considered making a quick trip up to check out the situation for himself. His daughter thought it was kind of a silly idea, and he hesitated. After grabbing a bite together, Ricardo and his daughter parted ways, and he headed out of Ft. Lewis.
Ricardo: So I’m leaving town, and there’s that one light where you turn right to go back to Farmington and make your way back down, or you turn left to go towards Denver. I was in the middle lane and the green arrow comes on, and that split second that the arrow comes on I cut in front of this car and went north, and just kept going. I wanted to see what was happening, and I started thinking “I missed Wounded Knee, I missed Alcatraz, I don’t want to miss this one.” So I went.
Ricardo Caté Facebook post from Standing Rock
I put it on Facebook and all of a sudden I had 300 or 400 people going “Go! That’s cool!” you know, and I posted some of those stories and shared them, and I said I’m going to go see what this is about. One of the posts was a call for supplies and stuff, and so I had people messaging me on Facebook, “We need supplies, I’ll send you money.” I told all my friends to send money to this Walmart in South Dakota, and when I get there I’ll fill up my truck.
When I got there, there was like $1,900 worth of 50 bucks here, 20 bucks here, five bucks here, and when I tried to take it out after five transactions, they put my stuff on hold. They said I couldn’t get the money and I said, “Well what’s going on?” and they said “This is too much money for one person and you might be a drug dealer,” and I said “No, I’m not. I‘m headed to this pipeline thing,” and I talked to the manager, I explained to him, and he was able to override that, so he helped me out. That was pretty cool.
I packed my truck full of stuff and got there. About a couple days later I started drawing what I was seeing. I would post something on Facebook, and man, got a thousand likes and all of a sudden I was drawing attention to what was going on up there, and I liked it. So I just kept drawing.
I chopped wood, peeled potatoes, cut onions, did whatever I could. I went to the marches, went to the demonstrations here and there. It’s a pretty good learning experience.
IPCC:Did you meet up with other people from other pueblos?
Ricardo: I believe I was the first Pueblo person there. Then BJ came, about four days later—him and his sons—from San Felipe. And about a week later, some other people from Isleta came, and that’s when we came up with the idea, “We should start a Pueblo camp.” That was about the same time I was teaching, too. Because I was a certified teacher—that’s all they wanted, they didn’t want just anybody—so I was able to teach at that makeshift school that we came up with up there. We had 30, maybe 35 students, so that was cool.
IPCC:You were there when the security dogs attacked, correct?
Ricardo: I remember September 3, it was a Saturday, the dogs came out—they brought the dogs out—I was like, “Who works on Labor Day Saturday?” and that’s when that happened. They turned on the bulldozers and everybody went running and knocked down the fence, and the dogs were there waiting. It was a strange day, but I drew that, too, because the newspaper in Bismarck had us as the aggressors, and the security people as the victims. We just overthrew them ‘cause they came at us, but we had the numbers. Some of those dogs were terrified, too. They didn’t know what to do, attack, or some of them cowered and stuff, ‘cause the guards were yelling “Yeah, yeah, go get ‘em!” and the dogs were like, “No.” It was just a crazy moment. To be up there and to be able to draw this stuff was really cool.
IPCC:Why did you make four separate trips to Standing Rock?
Ricardo: I had to come pay the bills. I had the kids. I had a Cherokee Art Market booth in October in Tulsa. But early October when I went up there, I took my son, and originally I was gonna have him go with me to Tulsa, but he liked it, and he stayed. He was 21 at the time, and I was like, no father wants to leave their kid like that, but I thought, yeah, if he wants to stay, he’s a grown man, and he’ll grow up some more here, so I left him.
Two weeks he was there by himself, and by then we had a Pueblo camp, where people from various pueblos around here were there and the women were cooking, and it was really good. We had frybread, we had all that stuff—we probably had the best camp in town, that whole encampment, ‘cause we had tamales, we had beans, these Pueblo women are amazing.
IPCC:Now that some time has passed, what’s it like looking back on that experience?
Ricardo: You always want to know that you helped, that you did something, and I walked away from that happy. We didn’t get the outcome that we wanted, but, aw man, you had to be there to witness all these tribes—there were close to 400 tribes—it’s never happened before. Ten thousand people camping, and as much as it was on Facebook, it’s not true at all, was the fact that this was the cleanest camp I had ever seen, not a wad of paper, nothing, it was completely clean. I mean for 10,000 people? These are people that respected the land, and it was amazing. The only thing would be that people would just leave, and there would be a pile of clothes, a tent and stuff, but then people would come and pick them up. That was the only thing.
I like to think I went for the people who couldn’t go. Just like when I run sometimes, I run, or I dance, for people who can’t. We have that mentality. It’s pretty cool to be able to justify everything.
Ricardo Caté’s exhibit in IPCC’s Art Through Struggle Gallery continues through January 4, 2019.
What Does “Anasazi” Mean, and Why Is It Controversial?
We were recently updating a page on our website and were surprised when we came across some text using the outdated term “Anasazi.” We recognized the need to change the term on that page, and to search the site for any other remaining references. Realizing that people visit the IPCC and our website from all over the world, and that many still search for information by that term, we decided that erasure and replacement wasn’t enough – as a cultural and educational organization, we needed to explain why.
The term “Anasazi” was established in 1927 through the archaeological Pecos Classification system, referring to the Ancestral Pueblo people who spanned the present-day Four Corners region of the United States, including Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon, Canyon De Chelly, and Aztec. The term is Navajo in origin, and means “ancient enemy.” The Pueblo peoples of New Mexico understandably do not wish to refer to their ancestors in such a disrespectful manner, so the appropriate term to use is “Ancestral Pueblo” or “Ancestral Puebloan.”
According to archaeologist Linda Cordell, “Anasazi” was first applied to the ruins of Mesa Verde by Richard Wetherill, a rancher and trader who was the first Anglo-American known to explore the sites in that area in 1888–89. Wetherill knew and worked with Navajos, and understood what the word meant. The name was further embedded in archaeological circles when it was adopted by Alfred V. Kidder, the acknowledged dean of Southwestern Archaeology, who felt it was easier to use than creating a more technical term.
“It is to my knowledge within our Pueblo communities that we have always referred to our ancestors with proper words to describe their next stage in life with honor and care according to our own language composition,” says Stephanie Oyenque (Acoma Pueblo), IPCC Cultural Education Specialist. “The term ‘Anasazi’ is a word not used within our Pueblo communities. Therefore, how can we, as a universal collective, honor our past people with dignity and respect? Now is the time to take back control of how to accurately describe our ancestral people.”
In pursuit of accuracy and respect, the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and Indian Pueblo Store are dedicated to changing all mentions of Anasazi to Ancestral Pueblo or Ancestral Puebloan, and helping to educate others on the reason the term is no longer acceptable. It will only appear on our sites when part of a product or other official name, and in those cases a link to this information will be included.
Fighting Fires and Chasing Dinosaurs: An Interview with Artist Levon Loncassion
Levon Loncassion is an award-winning artist from Zuni Pueblo, with works at Mesa Verde National Park’s visitor center and the Heard Museum. A former wildland firefighter, his art is heavily influenced by nature, along with Zuni culture, and artists from Pueblos to Picasso.
Levon Loncassion giving an intimate talk exclusively to IPCC museum members at the exhibit opening. For information on becoming a member, click here.
Levon, who earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of New Mexico in 2005, grew up on Zuni Pueblo lands, enjoying the adventure that came with the Southwest landscape. He knew from a young age that art was an integral part of him, and a way to satisfy the need to understand his culture, past, present, and future.
His exhibit, “Zuni Ceratops and Anomalous Illusions,” has been on display in our Artists Circle Gallery for a few months, and will close July 15, 2018.
Levon is a person with a lot to say, and he shared many thoughts with us about adversity, art, resilience, and culture.”
IPCC: How did you know you were going to be an artist?
LEVON: I realized I was an artist because no one else in my family could draw as well as I could. I was drawing things that my older siblings couldn’t do, and so they would say, “Oh, you’re an artist.” And I didn’t really think of myself as an artist, it was just like . . . I guess if I were to think back at it, it was just kind of that strength of image. It’s burned into my brain and I just want to bring it out into a piece of paper, or drawing, or a pottery, or a basket.
IPCC: How did you get started with art?
LEVON: I remember when I was probably around seven years of age, I think I had my first psychological breakdown. The realization that we’re all going to die, and the universe is expanding, the sun’s going to burn out, all these things that they were teaching us in school. And for me, just having that realization, I think I internalized it to the point where I was fearful of everything else, so there was a time where I just was caught in that space, and every time they would ask me, “What’s wrong with you?” and I was like, “We’re all gonna die!” and as a kid, no one really took the time to explain it to me properly, and so I internalized it, and I think that was another influential part of me being an artist because I went inside [myself].
And I would just be crying, and then they’d be like “He’s crying, we don’t know what to do with him.” “Just give him some markers or crayons and he’ll be fine.” So once they did that I kind of broke myself out of it and I spent like hours just drawing dinosaurs, really large dinosaurs. After having that experience they put me in this thing called the Enrichment Program, and they would bring in people from the community, and artists that were passing through, and then there’s this woman who taught us how to make traditional Zuni pottery. That kind of focused my thoughts and energy into creating works of art.
Even at a young age I was selling pieces at art shows. It was crazy when I was in the third grade, getting a check for $200.
IPCC: Even at a young age, art was cathartic for you, helping you cope with the world?
LEVON: Growing up in a household where there’s an alcoholic father—there was a lot of abuse, violence, shouting—so for me to get away from that, I just had to escape, and what I would do is take a bunch of those materials from school and work on it alone by myself in my room, just to get away.
IPCC: Are you sure you want to talk about this?
LEVON: I think it’s important, because to talk about what it was that makes me an artist, I think that’s one of the main reasons. And even to this day it affects me, especially when I’m a father, knowing how traumatic that is, it speaks a lot. And I think when it speaks a lot and it hits you at the core, the work becomes more personal, and it becomes more true.
IPCC: You were a wildland firefighter for a long time. Was that your primary calling?
LEVON: I used fighting fire to fund a lot of my artistic ambitions. That was great up to a point. I would go through fire season, save up a bunch of money, then paint after the season. But most art shows are happening during fire season, and it made it hard for my art to be seen or get shown.
I was fighting fire with Mt. Taylor Hot Shots and I got into Santa Fe Indian Market, and then I knew for a fact that I couldn’t swing it, because I think that year we grossed 1,000 hours of overtime, so it was an eye opener. I did make a lot of money doing that, but I felt like a certain part of me was dying every time I was taken away from my painting.
IPCC: How did you end up transitioning professionally from firefighter to artist?
LEVON: I don’t know if you know about the Granite Mountain Hot Shots that were burned over and killed? We worked closely with them the whole entire fire season from 2010 to 2011. One season I hurt my knee and decided to take a year off, and that was the season they got burned over. In my mind I was thinking as much as it was really heartbreaking and hit home, in my mind I was thinking that could have just as easily been me. And I was thinking about how precious time on this earth is, and then staying true to my convictions of being an artist was brought to the forefront. Having this option investing my time and energy in a job that I know I can do, and I can do well, and I could make a good living off of it, or I could just take a leap of faith and invest in myself as an artist.
IPCC: You’ve said the landscape around Zuni has been a big influence on you and your work, from the time you were little on up to the present.
LEVON: My grandma and her extended family had been planting a plot of land near Corn Mesa, or Thunder Mountain is another place name for it. We would go there usually during early spring, and I remember when our families would get together—not only my family, but my aunts and my uncles, and people my grandma would know, who would come with a tractor and plow the fields. That was more like an event that I looked forward to, because everybody got together and we went out there and we planted, everybody pitched in, and people brought food and we had a big ol’ feast outside—steaks, corn, the whole nine yards.
Once the planting was done, there was just the rest of the day to go explore, so me and my brother and my cousins would go explore the mesa. We would venture out into the mesa, not really knowing or understanding the enormity of history that the place had. I would find myself picking up pottery sherds, caught at a very young age in this wanderlust, that random anonymous artist all those years ago who went and gathered clay, built that clay into a pot, burnished it, and then painted it, and then fired it—and that life progression of that piece feeding, cooking, carrying, and then breaking and being discarded—just that whole sequence in my mind, being blown away by it.
Levon Loncassion posing for the camera during his exhibit opening in our Artist Circle Gallery. For information on becoming a member, click here.
IPCC: You also mentioned traditional storytelling as an influence.
LEVON: During the wintertime when I was growing up, my grandma would sit us all down—and growing up we had a big ol’ fireplace—and in the dead of winter is usually the time of year when where stories were told, traditionally, and she would sit and tell us the creation story, and serpent of the sea stories.
Sitting there listening to her, she would speak only in Zuni, so it made it more precious, made it more influencing, because if somebody talks to me in Zuni versus English, I feel like it’s more important. Being caught in that moment where I’m captivated, listening to her, my mind just went—I was going to these places, and I was seeing them visually in my mind. And especially when we would go plant, that’s where some of the stories were relating to.
IPCC: What would you like to get out of the Artists Circle Gallery show?
LEVON: I guess try to put a name with the work, or a face with the work, especially it being here in Albuquerque, and it being my home away from home, and using it a kind of a platform or stepping stone. I feel like after deciding to make this transition to be a full-time artist that it’s a great opportunity, a good place to start, something to focus on. Hopefully it will take on a life of its own.
Ricardo Caté giving an intimate talk exclusively to IPCC museum members at the members-only exhibit opening. For information on becoming a member, click here.
Ricardo Caté of Santo Domingo/Kewa Pueblo is known for Without Reservations, the only Native American cartoon featured in a mainstream daily newspaper, which currently runs in the Santa Fe New Mexican and Taos News. A witty, engaging, and provocative exhibit featuring Ricardo’s works is showing in the Art Through Struggle Gallery inside the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center (IPCC) now through Jan. 6, 2019.
“Right now, Without Reservations is the number one cartoon in Santa Fe,” says Ricardo. “Of the thousands and thousands of Santa Fe New Mexican readers, 80 percent are non-Native. This is a Native cartoon. I mean, how did that happen? When you’re three times more popular than Peanuts, I start thinking, ‘wow!’”
He grew up influenced by the cartoons of Don Martin and Sergio Aragonés in Mad Magazine, and uses humor to show aspects of Native American life, comment on current and historical events, and to just make people laugh.
“Ricardo Caté is truly a treasure – first he makes me laugh, then he makes me think,” says Monique Fragua (Jemez Pueblo), Vice President of Commercial Enterprises at IPCC. “Mr. Caté has a truly unique way of looking at life and connecting all backgrounds to the very real struggles of Native America. This is something we work to achieve at our center through the exhibits and stories that we share.”
“The Art Through Struggle Gallery is a unique space for dialogue on difficult subjects,” says Rachel Moore (Hopi), Curator of Exhibitions. “It’s a place to talk about the realities of what it is to be Pueblo, to be Native American, living today with the atrocities of both the past and present constantly surrounding us. Whether universally funny, niche funny, or controversial, Ricardo’s works in this exhibit reflect personal and shared experiences, making these difficult dialogues both accessible and authentic.”
Ricardo is quite the Renaissance man, and his background reads like an epic road movie. He is a cartoonist, activist, stand-up comedian, writer, teacher, veteran, former college athlete, tribal official, four-time Dakota Access Pipeline protestor at Standing Rock, and was even homeless for a short time in the 1980s.
“The comics are unique perspectives, from not just Native, but the struggling person’s perspective,” says Ricardo, whose celebrity fans include Wes Studi, Jackie Chan, Winona LaDuke, Denzel Washington, Nick Nolte, Taboo from the Black Eyed Peas, and Dennis Banks, co-founder of the American Indian Movement.
Ricardo creates around 300 cartoons a year for the Santa Fe New Mexican, plus others that he just feels inspired or compelled to create – many of these impromptu ones appear on his Facebook page. He estimates there are around 4,000 cartoons in his catalog.
Ricardo Caté having candid conversations with IPCC museum members at the meet-and-greet exhibit opening exclusive to IPCC members. For information on becoming a member, click here.
Coming up with so much material isn’t difficult, he says, as he’s inspired by a wide range of sources in daily life: commercials, lectures he attends, alternative or sarcastic responses to real-life statements or questions, personal interaction, history, and current events.
“Oh my gosh, the guy who’s in charge of our country right now,” Ricardo says, “He gives me plenty of material because I can’t make up half the stuff that he says or does – it’s a gift. For cartoonists and humorists, he’s a gift – a nightmare for the rest of everybody else – plenty of material there.”
The Art Through Struggle Gallery exhibit features both published and unpublished works from throughout the timeline of Ricardo’s portfolio, many of which are exclusive paintings on loan from a private collection.
WE ASKED RICARDO HOW THE IPCC SHOW IS DIFFERENT OR SPECIAL, COMPARED TO HIS OTHER SHOWS.
Ricardo: “First of all, there’s the geography, because my cartoon’s up in Santa Fe, and for it to be gaining attention southward, towards Albuquerque, it’s big for me. And that’s without trying. I’m not trying to come up with these shows here and there, I just get invited. Number two, it’s at the Pueblo Cultural Center, and not too many respectful places left for Native art. I’m afraid, because I’ve been to those places, and I’ve talked, and they expect me to dress a certain way, to talk a certain way . . .”
IPCC: “Like a Tonto routine?”
“. . . yeah, and this is where I get to be myself. Because I’m Pueblo I’m actually contributing to what this place stands for. It’s just different to me. It’s almost like coming full circle, coming home to my roots. This is the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. And the people that walk through here, people have no idea who we are, what’s going on, and they get to learn about it. So during that time when my stuff is on display, those same people, tourists who don’t normally go to shows to collect Indian stuff, they wind up here, and it’s those people I would like to get feedback from. I want to know what those people think, because I want to take this nationwide, and it’s those people I’d be writing for, too, and I recognize that.”
Ricardo’s long-term goals include national syndication, establishing a scholarship fund at Santo Domingo Pueblo, and winning a Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Cartooning.
“I talk to each pot. When it’s almost near completion, I say ‘Whose home are you going to grace? You’re only going to go to someone who really loves you, so be happy. Bless the home that you’re in.’”
Perhaps no other quote or series of words could better capture the essence of Helen Bird of Santo Domingo Pueblo, the artist behind one of the best-selling Pueblo Pottery Mugs from the Indian Pueblo Store.
“It was a challenge, and I love challenges,” Helen says of accepting the offer to design a very specific size and shape pot for the mug series. Taking a dozen attempts to get it right, the task almost proved to be more than she bargained for, but she kept at it. “I went through a lot of disappointments, but I kept reminding myself it’s a challenge. ‘You conquered cancer, so you’ll conquer this.’”
Following several frustrating and unsuccessful tries, Helen was determined to make it happen, and chose her day. She mixed clay three times to get the right consistency. The first batch had pebbles that popped, making the pottery unusable, and the second batch was too sandy. The third passed what she calls the Levi’s test – she grabbed a handful of clay and threw it at her Levi’s hanging nearby. The clay didn’t stick, letting her know this batch was just what was needed.
Around 7 o’clock that evening, as the sun drifted toward the western horizon, Helen’s grandson drove up to her house. He was concerned by the sullen look on her face following more unsuccessful attempts at the stubborn task. “I hugged him and said ‘I was so frustrated’ and I uncovered the mug and said ‘it’s not coming out right, somebody’s challenging me.’”
“My dad used to say, ‘If you don’t succeed, try again. Take a break.’ And that’s what I did,” Helen says. “I told cancer I wasn’t going to cry, and I’m going to tell you, ‘Whoever you are challenging me, I’m not going to cry.’ I sat down, lifted my leg up, and looked up in the clouds and I saw something, and I smiled.” Helen turned toward her grandson and said, “I saw a sign from Grandpa, so I’m ready.” At 9 o’clock she fired again. Tired from a frustrating day, she decided not to wait around for the results of this last firing. Helen left the pottery overnight, careful to close the squeaky gate behind her to keep the dogs out.
When morning light began to warm the Kewa soil, Helen pushed open the squeaky gate and brushed aside the cold ashes to peek at the pot. “It was smiling at me. And that was it.”
The mug features traditional Santo Domingo designs, including Helen’s signature bird image based on a design she saw on a pot excavated from Bandelier National Monument. When people ask her if the bird is a quail or something else, Helen responds, smiling: “It’s a Helen bird, I tell them.”
Although Helen has been a prolific potter for decades, and is credited as one of the artists who contributed to the revitalization of Santo Domingo pottery, she is excited by the reach her mug design will have. “I see it as leaving something behind of our culture. It’s not only going to be in the state, or in the nation, but it’s going to be worldwide.”
The wider visibility of the Pueblo Pottery Mug format appeals to Helen not just for herself, but for those who might follow in her footsteps. “I just create pots as communication to the rest of the world, communicate my skill, my art. I’m 70 years old, and I can still do this. I make a pot, it’s going to go to a home, and it’s going to stay there unless it’s donated to a museum. But with this mug, it’s going to be in everybody’s kitchen, and my grandkids can say ‘My grandma made that.’ That’s something I can leave with them, for future generations to be inspired by.”
With the blessings Helen bestowed upon her pot and mug, she says people won’t be drinking just coffee or tea from it. “Love will be drunk from here. Hope will be drunk from here.”
Learn more about Helen and see more of her work HERE >
Additional background on the Pueblo pottery design mugs:
In January 2015 five Pueblo potters, Erik Fender (San Ildefonso), Elizabeth Medina (Zia), Frederica Antonio (Acoma), Patricia Lowden (Acoma), and Robin Teller (Isleta) were commissioned to commemorate the opening of the Starbucks at Avanyu Plaza, the first Native American-owned Starbucks, by each crafting a clay mug to be exhibited in the store.
There was such a strong public reaction and desire for ownership that ceramic versions bearing the original designs were put into production by the Indian Pueblo Store, with the Pueblo Pottery Mugs becoming an immediate hit.
The popularity of the mugs prompted the commission of a second series of Pueblo Pottery Mugs, this time with designs by Martha Romero (Nambé), Carlos Laate (Zuni), Denise Chavarria (Santa Clara), Helen Bird (Santo Domingo), and a collaboration from Lisa Holt (Cochiti) and Harlan Reano (Santo Domingo).
Series two debuted with Martha Romero’s design just before Christmas 2017, with the others being released at intervals through mid-February 2018. The goal is to eventually have potters from each of New Mexico’s 19 Pueblos produce a mug design representing their Pueblo.
All originals are on display at the Indian Pueblo Store inside IPCC. All of the participating artists receive royalties for each mug sold, with proceeds also supporting the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and the 19 Pueblos of New Mexico.
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