By Patricia Ayala, Ph.D.
Breaking stereotypes
David was a celebrated canoemaker, artist, educator, political activist, and cultural protector. He belonged to the Passamaquoddy tribe from the Northeast of the United States, who—along with the Abenaki, Penobscot, Maliseet, and Micmac—are part of the Wabanaki Confederacy. He was awarded several prestigious fellowships and prizes. Among these were the Traditional Arts Fellowship from the Maine Arts Commission in 2000, the state's highest honor in crafts, and the First People's Fund Community Spirit Award in 2005. His art achieved special renown in the Santa Fe Indian Market and the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair and Market in Arizona. David was also honored in a tribute from his tribe as a
teacher, award winning artist and canoe builder, who has reached levels of notoriety from his love of birch bark. He exemplifies what it means to be a Master Craftsman. David is being honored today for reviving the nearly lost art of traditional Canoe building. Woliwon Tepit" (Passamamquoddy Tribe, celebration of the 48th Annual Sipayik Indian Day, 2013).
Throughout his life David's identity remained true to his Passamaquoddy ancestry although he was also confronted and influenced by external elements. From early childhood he felt strong connections with his indigenous heritage and to Passamaquoddy land. As is true for many other native artists David alternated between two cultures, striving to preserve Passamaquoddy traditions while living in a largely modern Euro-American world. It was a challenge to maintain the integrity of his native identity within American society, as it was to live an "Indian" life in a world transected by many cultures. In 2014 he wrote in a note to viewers of one of his exhibitions:
The work you see here is, like myself, comprised of two elements. This is what it feels like sometimes to be indigenous. Although my work is rooted in traditional Waponahki mediums, I am surrounded by the influences of the modern world. In the stories of my youth Captain Crunch and Glooskap were best friends, and they had a buddy named Bigabanun who was a big banana. Squatamus and Aputompkin were to be feared, and under every rock lived the Mikumwesu.1 Traditional stories accompanied by modern characters—it all seemed normal. My life is still like that, coming from two directions on a twisted path.
David may be considered a cultural broker or intermediary.2 He moved easily between two worlds both of which he knew in depth. While he lived according to Passamaquoddy cultural codes, he was very well versed in those of mainstream American society. His work characteristically built bridges and initiated dialogues between both realities. His teaching was addressed to both Native Americans and non-natives.
David's life demonstrates that culture and art are not static but consist of constant transformation. David was intent on breaking the stereotypes of what it means to be Indigenous and what it means to be considered "traditional." On the one hand, David embodied the idea of guardian of tradition. In his basketry and canoe building workshops he taught the techniques of his ancestors as faithfully as possible. On the other, he experimented with birchbark, creating new forms and designs inspired, for example, by posters of rock bands and the artistic traditions of other peoples. His training as a basketmaker and canoemaker encompassed both traditional and modern veins of art making. He learned directly from artisans in his family, as well as from books (some based on information provided by his grandparents and great-grandparents), museum collections, and workshops. David's work speaks to the changes that indigenous traditions have gone through and reveals his exposure to the adaptation and incorporation of new ideas, techniques, and concepts within his culture.
The myth of the vanishing Indian was constantly challenged by David who not only reclaimed an ancestry of thousands of years but also declared, "We are still here and we gonna be here." An avid reader of archaeological, historical, and anthropological books on Native Americans, David was versed in scholarly technical language and scientific information. On some occasions he confronted archaeologists whose interpretations claimed an alleged rupture of the historical continuity of the Wabanaki tribes. He did this partly because of the political implications of this discourse on his peoples’ land claims. He was often interviewed by researchers and journalists writing books and articles about the art and culture of his tribe and the defense of Indigenous land.
David was a great writer and public speaker. He always captured the attention of students and the general public in his classes and talks. David was not a voiceless subaltern. He did not need anyone to speak or write on his behalf nor did he need to be represented. In his writings, talks and interviews he shared reflections on his life and the path he traveled to become a canoemaker.
The purpose of this essay is to share some of his own words, the ones he shared with me in countless conversations in the course of our ten years of marriage. This is one of my first attempts to convey part of his life and why it's important for future generations of Passamaquody and other Native American youth to learn about it. This story is also intersected by my own experience as a South American woman, archaeologist, and anthropologist.
Becoming a Canoemaker
David in a canoe (courtesy of Darel Bridges)
David was born in 1962 in Portland, Maine. He grew up in South Portland, in the Willard Beach area. His father is a South Portland native whose family settled on Swan's Island, Maine in the late 1700's. His mother was born at the Passamaquoddy Reserve of Sipayik (Pleasant Point) near Perry, Maine. Sipayik is located at the easternmost part of Maine on the shores of Passamaquoddy Bay. While David grew up in South Portland, he spent much of his summers at Sipayik, living alternately with his great-grandfather, grandparents, and aunts. In an autobiographical statement he wrote:
_I was born in 1962 to a family of Passamaquoddy artists. From birth I was surrounded by the language, artistry and spirituality of my elders and community at Sipayik, Passamaquoddy Reserve in Perry, Maine. My Grandmother Beatrice Soctomah was a highly regarded Brown Ash and Sweetgrass basketmaker having learned her craft from her elders. My great grandfather, Sylvester Gabriel, was the last of the old-time bark canoe and basket makers in this Passamaquoddy community. The focus of family and community in these difficult political times for the Passamaquoddy people solidified my deep respect for the ways of my ancestors and the value of our ancestral homeland. _
David attended school in South Portland where he was one of the few "brown-skin" children. Obeying the reifying logic of the myth of the "vanishing Indian," his teachers constantly denied the existence of native people in Maine. On several occasions he confronted this widely held assumption that lies at the very heart of American society. By so doing he reclaimed his Passamaquoddy ancestry. As a teenager he became interested in the Indigenous struggles that led to the Red Power and the American Indian Movement (AIM). The active participation of some of his cousins in these organizations helped him develop a strong passion for Native American issues and led him to actively engage in the defense of his people's rights. He always regretted not being part of the nineteen-month occupation of Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay (1971), the massive takeover of the Bureau of Indian Affairs building in Washington (1972), and the indigenous uprising at Wounded Knee in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota (1973). He wrote:
_To be indigenous in 1962 was to be doomed, I was born into a world of tailfins and beehives that soon morphed into a world of moon shots and micro-dots. Termination was the word, but not for you, only for the savages who refused to advance into the world of plastic and television. The world moved from black and white to living color in my short sweet youth and by the time I was 10 my heroes were Jimi Hendrix and Billy Jack. I missed Alcatraz and the BIA takeover but Wounded Knee made me realize we were still here. When they told me at school there were no Indians left, I wondered who that was in my living room speaking Passamaquoddy. I watched Apollo 11 with my great grandfather, and he knew they shouldnʼt drill that hole 30 feet into the moon. When I was six, I knew what I would do when I grew up, when I was eleven, I knew that Jesus was a myth. I felt the horrible rain coming down: my first job was a grave-digger when I was fourteen. I moved on up to trash-man very quickly. And here I am today. Call it what you will, we all came from different places. The world was under my feet and still is, and now I only translate what I see. I miss my grandmother everyday just like you. Do you know what it feels like to see your Nation fight to be alive? _
Only a few years before David was born, Native activists reversed U.S. federal policy by thwarting termination of the tribes in 1957. Before this date, federal and Maine state policy were predicated on the assumption that the tribes would gradually disintegrate and disappear as individuals left the reservations. Tribal councils were not recognized, tribal governors were rarely consulted, tribal decisions were thwarted, and tribal members were not allowed to vote. Additional land was lost as the state legislature reinterpreted treaties or granted long-term leases to non-Indians. During the 1960s, the tribal authority increased gradually and prompted the creation of the first state Department of Indian Affairs in 1965. In the late 1960s, Penobscots and Passamaquoddies initiated the Maine Indian Land Claims suit asserting that the land cessions to Massachusetts and Maine had violated the Indian Nonintercourse Act of 1790. Several favorable court rulings prompted the enactment of the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act in 19803
In the middle of these favorable changes for Wabanaki tribes, David moved to San Francisco in 1980 where he lived for ten years. Attracted by the Beat generation and the hippie subculture of previous years, David wanted to experience first-hand the changes being initiated by writers, musicians, artists and intellectuals who were part of the counterculture. He strongly felt that Indian causes resonated with countercultural commitments to peace, environmental protection, and living fully on the land.4
Like many other young Americans who moved to San Francisco, at times David lived a precarious life in that city. But he never wanted to ask for help from his family in Maine. To make a living he worked as a group home counselor for at-risk children, a painter, carpenter and builder as well as in different stores in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. Most Californians had never heard about the Passamaquoddy tribe. But, based on the assumption that Native Americans have an in-born ability to work at great heights, David got several offers to work in the construction of skyscrapers. On many occasions he was mistaken for a Mexican and discriminated against as a foreigner. No matter how many times he corrected his interlocutors and identified himself as Passamaquoddy, his protests failed to make any difference in how he was stereotyped by the rest of the society.
David on the road (courtesy of Darel Bridges)
Once a year he traveled back to Maine and worked in seasonal jobs. One of his favorites was to work as a camp teacher where fostered the connection of his students to nature. He wrote:
After graduating from high school in 1980, I began working at Blueberry Cove Camp, a coastal summer camp in Maine with inner city youth. The focus of this camp was to expose young people to the natural world. While leading sailing, fishing, canoeing and hiking trips on the rivers, offshore and in the forests of my homeland brought to bear the deep respect I have for the natural world.
David wearing a headdress (courtesy of Gretchen Anderson)
During his years in San Francisco David explored different art expressions including drawing, painting, writing and making jewelry in his art studio. Photography was also an important part of this exploration because his partner at that time was a photographer. Thanks to this relationship, David's life in this city is very well documented in photographs of his daily activities and artistic performances. Inspired by the books of Jack Kerouac and other American writers and the music of Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones, David traveled across the country and Canada visiting big cities, small towns, and Indigenous reservations. He did so more than once. Although at the national level there were changes in favor of Indigenous rights, the stories from his travels showed the prevailing racism in different states during the 1980s. On repeated occasions, he was not allowed to enter or was asked to leave bars, restaurants or shops because "Indians were not allowed" in these places.
David in San Francisco (courtesy of Gretchen Anderson)
The treatment of Native people in Maine was not so different, but as a result of the Indian Land Claims Settlement there were important changes for Wabanaki People. Since 1980, that legislation recognized the Passamaquoddy Tribe, the Penobscot Nation, and the Houlton Band of Maliseet Indians. The Aroostook Band of Micmacs was recognized in 1989. The Settlement Act enabled Wabanaki tribes to purchase land, develop tribal businesses, and employ tribe members. This had an impact on the return of Wabanaki people to their home villages. The Sipayik reserve that David had left in the early 1980s also underwent a series of changes.
With state recognition of Indigenous rights and a strong process of Wabanaki self-determination, after ten years of living in San Francisco, David decided in 1990 to return to Maine and focus on the threatened art forms of the Passamaquoddy People. Initially, he focused his attention on the materials and tools required in the construction of brown ash baskets to help his grandmother and other elders in the community. Many of their tools were over 100 years old. David became proficient in the construction of ash gauges and splitters, sweetgrass combs, and basket molds as well as the gathering and preparation of materials. Then he learned how to make birch bark baskets, a tradition associated with the men of his tribe. To make this possible, David studied the construction techniques and designs of baskets belonging to his family, friends, and museum collections as well as researching books on Passamaquoddy crafts.
Despite David's love for basket making, his true dream was to become a canoemaker. Throughout his youth, even during his years in San Francisco, the intensity of this dream never lessened. Upon his return to Maine he began to build birchbark canoes. As his grandfather, Silvester Gabriel, was already old at the time and couldn't teach him directly, David studied naval architecture in Eastport and majored in history at the University of Maine in Machias. His studies and work with Steve Cayard were fundamental in his process of becoming a canoemaker. Steve is a non-native, self-taught canoe builder who, through careful research of the craft and deep appreciation of its cultural context, has developed strong ties with the Native communities and builders whose traditions he borrows from.5 After years of learning and working with Steve, David achieved mastery in the craft. David wrote:
My desire from the age of six was to build a bark canoe and with knowledge of the forests, the sea, and the gathering processes in hand, I sought to solidify my knowledge by studying traditional boat building and naval architecture. After graduating from the Marine Trades Center, I focused my work on design and construction of large-scale ocean going sail boats and traditional western fishing craft as a means to raise my young family. In 1996 I began the in-depth study of birch bark containers and canoes. Primary sources of information were my grandfather's work within the collections and publications of several museums, including the Abbe Museum’s 1957 "Uses of Birchbark in the Northeast" and the Smithsonian’s 1964 "The Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America." Working with canoe maker Steve Cayard as understudy and building partner in 1998, I began teaching bark canoe construction at the Wooden Boat School.
David and Steve partnered in scholarship and craft, learning the history of the craft, and visiting and consulting with museums up and down the eastern seaboard. They taught workshops in the Native and Anglo communities learning and understanding, in all ways that they could, the birchbark craft and its connection to the Native people of the region. David and Steve led many, many projects together to build Wabanaki full sized canoes in the United States and Canada, as well as to restore ethnographic canoes in different museum collections including the National Museum of the American Indian and the Peabody Museum at Harvard University. Their canoe workshops lasted a month and encouraged a participative approach in which everybody could collaborate directly in the construction process.
In the course of his own life David witnessed how the construction of Passamaquoddy canoes went from almost disappearing as a craft to being revitalized and revered as an indispensable art and priceless form of cultural expression. David's work contributed greatly to this revitalization. A milestone in this process was the inclusion of a canoe built by David and Steve (loaned by the Abbe Museum) in the Portland Museum of Art Biennial in 2018.
Maintaining and transcending tradition
Birchbark baskets (courtesy of Darel Bridges)
A descendant of a family of renowned brown ash and sweetgrass basketmakers—that included his grandmother, Beatrice Soctomah—David was a self-taught maker of birchbark baskets. He studied the designs and technology used by his ancestors and introduced his own designs and technological innovations in the construction of baskets. Part of his educational work was focused on basket making workshops in schools, museums, cultural centers, National Parks, and universities where David not only taught others how to make baskets but also promoted a wide range of knowledge about Passamaquoddy culture. Being acutely aware of the lack of information available to the novice builder in birchbark container craft, David began collecting information from research institutions. The focus was to gather and make available information, locations, cultural provenance, construction details, and design motifs. In 2007, he wrote:
My work at present is to continue my educational programs to our Wabanaki communities and to present this work to the broader community through artist residencies and hands-on experience. The Wabanaki tradition offers many educational opportunities, history, use of raw materials, and responsible stewardship of our lands and our planet that are included in my programs. For members of my own community this work brings us into the world of our ancestors. Through this process we are once again engaged in our cultural heritage.
David's baskets reflect the utilitarian forms devised by his ancestors and display traditional and new designs and innovations based on the limitations and attributes of the material.
Birchbark baskets, (courtesy of Darel Bridges)
Birchbark baskets, (courtesy of Darel Bridges)
In 2014, David wrote:
Traditionally, the baskets were made as food storage containers, gathering baskets, plates, cups and bowls, etc. They were utilitarian forms, yet the ancestors took every opportunity to embellish and beautify their work with double-curve designs, geometric patterns and, later, with animal and human figures. These curves were included in the anthropomorphic images of three-thousands-year-old petroglyphs found on our ancestral homeland. My winter bark etchings emulate those traditional pieces. Because of that, I use the double-curve motif and animal imagery).
In the beginning of his career David's etched baskets followed a more traditional style, but over the years his decorative designs evolved. In 2017, he wrote:
The traditional way of depicting zoomorphic or human imagery is through two-dimensional figures in profile...So in the early 2000s, I tried to flesh them out by using double curves. I randomly started filling them out, trying to make it seem like there's more depth, and filling out the (one-dimensional) animal that was the traditional ancestor's way of depicting them trying to bring out fullness rather than an image in profile.
Owl Panel, family picture
Fish Woman Panel, family picture
In addition to birchbark containers (folded baskets, cylindric and oval boxes, heart shape baskets, plates, bowls, cups and firewood containers), David made moose-calls and picture frames as did his predecessors. Etched birchbark panels became David's signature pieces, depicting zoomorphic and anthropomorphic figures of owls, moose, fishes, crabs, men, bird/men and fish/women as well as double curves and other Wabanaki designs. He also made panels with designs inspired by rock and roll posters and explored new shapes and objects (coat holders, knife sheaths, crowns and ceremonial arrowheads). David perhaps achieved his most innovative birchbark shape in the art piece created in collaboration with the famous New York sculptor, Richard Van Buren who named it "David Dancing with his Fingers" or "Laundry Machine."
The story basket (courtesy Abbe Museum)
Some of David's last baskets and panels reflect the integration of his own life story with his decorative designs. In 2012, during an extremely challenging time for our family, David made a new kind of basket in his career, "the story basket." Its designs speak of David's internal struggles to provide for our family. This basket is particularly striking. One scene depicts our son Sabattus and me (pregnant with Natanis) asking for food. In other designs we see David calling or hunting a moose or carrying a canoe. Tobias, David's oldest son, is depicted alone pulling a sled. Behind the scenes an ancestor is shown watching us. The basket clearly represents David's inner life and struggles.
In 2013, while he was undergoing cancer treatments, he made a series of panels with etched skeletons. In order to make these panels, David studied drawings of skeletons and human bodies in different positions for months. The resulting panels depicted sitting, standing, or kneeling. The latter were always praying.
Praying Skeleton Panel (courtesy Abbe Museum)
In 2016, David finished a unique panel called "Peskotom." Unlike previous panels in which David represented a single fish fully decorated inside, in this one he represented several decorated fish overlapping each other. This panel represents for David the return of his creativity after months of "creative emptiness" post chemotherapy and radiation treatments.
Peskotom Panel (courtesy of Morrison family)
As a native artist David was both a traditionalist and an innovator. But when he built canoes, he chose to faithfully follow the constructive process designed by his ancestors. In an interview in 2014, he said:
The ancestors figured it out a long time ago. When I build canoes today, I change nothing. The hull forms are specific to their intended uses whether they are for use on the ocean, lakes, or rivers. That is the way I continue to build them today....Experimentation is an essential part of growing as an artist, but it is good to know when it passes from stylish or modern to silly and dysfunctional. I like to remind people that the ancestors did just fine for twelve thousand years. We are still here because of their knowledge and skills.
David always described his journey to become a canoemaker as a spiritual search through which he learned to value with ever more appreciation the legacy of his grandparents and ancestors. According to him, every time he walked through the woods looking for birch bark, he felt that he was walking the same steps as his ancestors who for thousands of years had understood how to survive in an extreme environment such as Maine’s.
Top of story basket (courtesy Abbe Museum)
Another facet of David's work was his political activism and leadership in struggles for the defense of the Wabanaki territory. His work to prevent the installation of a Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) terminal in Passamaquoddy Bay was especially meaningful. In this context, David, other members of his tribe, and surrounding community members founded the non-governmental organization called in Passamaquoddy language: NULANKEYUTOMONEN NKIH-TAHKOMIKUMON, which in English means, "We take care of our land." The main argument of this organization was that the presence of LNG in Passamaquoddy Bay was detrimental to the preservation of its territory and environment. This fight, carried out mainly by David and a group of leaders, mostly women, involved legal confrontation with the multinational Quoddy Bay LNG. It was a battle that David and his allies won after twelve years of disputes. This process involved the voluntary and paid contribution of professionals from different fields who, along with members of the organization, fought for the protection of Passamaquoddy territory against the State of Maine and private enterprise. David represented the Passamaquoddy people as a delegate to the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII). He worked with the Indigenous Environmental Network and with other Indigenous Nations fighting to maintain ancestral lands. His environmental defense was recognized by governmental and non-governmental organizations alike.
Throughout his career, David expertly combined his work as an educator, canoemaker, basketmaker, and political activist. At the same time he always sought to connect different communities within the United States and abroad. During the last ten years of his life he built relationships with Indigenous leaders and researchers from South America, especially in Chile where I was working as an archaeologist. David gave talks on the history of Native American Movements in the United States, held meetings with Atacameño leaders, and exhibited his art at the Archaeological Museum in San Pedro de Atacama.
Final Words: Inspiring Next Generations
David's life shows some of the changes that Native Americans have undergone over recent years in America. From being considered on the verge of disappearance as peoples and stereotyped as “primitive” anti-moderns to asserting themselves as full subjects who live between different worlds and inhabit intersecting identities, Native Americans defied the dispossessions and expectations of the larger society. His journey to become a canoemaker shows that the Passamaquoddys do not live in the past, nor are they to be relegated to books or museums. Never again can it be said in schools that there are no more Indians in Maine. One of the great motivations of David's work was to spread the teachings of his ancestors to the next generations. Whether he was working as an artist, an educator, or an environmental advocate, the most important lesson he taught was that all his labors were a continuation of his ancestors' work. He always emphasized the relevance of his teachings for the next generation. In 2014, David said:
Being an artist who uses the traditional techniques developed by the ancestors I understand the connections that must be maintained with our land, and our culture. This work is not mine alone, it belongs to the next generation.
David always believed that the teachings of his ancestors would inspire future generations to value ways of life other than the consumerism and individualism that currently prevail in our societies. To convey this message is also the purpose of this essay.6
References
Morningstar Kent, Jeanne. 2014. The visual Language of Wabanaki, The History Press, Maine.
Mundell, Katheleen. 2008. North by Northeast. Wabanaki, Akwesasne Mohawk, and Tuscarora Traditional Arts. Tilbury House, Publishers, Maine.
Shultz, David 2017. Profiles of Maine Indian Basket Makers, Home & Away Press, Maine.
Smith, Sherry. 2012. Hippies, Indians, and the Fight for Red Power, Oxford University Press, New York.
Szasz, Margaret Connnell. 2001. Between Indian and White Worlds: The cultural broker. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.
List of Photos
Photo 1. David in a canoe, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 2. David in a canoe, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 3. David on the road, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 4. David wearing a headdress, courtesy of Gretchen Anderson Photo 5. David in San Francisco, courtesy of Gretchen Anderson Photo 6. Birchbark baskets, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 7. Birchbark baskets, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 8. Birchbark baskets, courtesy of Darel Bridges Photo 9. Owl Panel, family picture Photo 10. Fish Woman Panel, family picture Photo 11. The story basket, courtesy Abbe Museum Photo 12. Praying Skeleton Panel, courtesy Abbe Museum Photo 13. Peskotom Panel, courtesy of Morrison family Photo 14. Top of story basket, courtesy Abbe Museum
1 Squatamus, Aputompkin and Mikumwesu are spirits from Passamaquoddy oral stories or mythology.
2 Sensu Szasz 2001.
3[www.maine.gov/legis/lawlib/lldl/indianclaims/index.html>][0]
4 To learn about the relations between the hippie subculture and the indigenous movement read Smith 2012.
5 To learn more about Steve's projects visit the website: [http://www.stevecayard.com][1]
6 To learn more about David's life and his artistic, educational and political projects visit the website created by the author: https://davidmosesbridges.com/