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The art of pottery-making is a traditional one; mothers teach their
daughters, even as their mothers taught them. There are no recipes for
exact proportions and mixtures, no thermometer for controlling
temperatures, no stencil or pattern set down upon paper for laying out
the designs. The perfection of the finished work depends upon the
potter's sense of rightness and the skill developed by practicing the
methods of her ancestors with such variation as her own originality and
ingenuity may suggest.
All the women of a pueblo community know how to make cooking vessels, at
least, and in spare time they gather and prepare their raw materials,
just as the Navajo woman has usually a blanket underway or the Apache a
basket started. The same is true of Hopi basketry; its methods, designs,
and symbolism are all a matter of memory and tradition.
From those who know most of Indian sacred and decorative symbols, we
learn that two main ideas are outstanding: desire for rain and belief in
the unity of all life. Charms or prayers against drought take the form
of clouds, lightning, rain, etc., and those for fertility are expressed
by leaves, flowers, seed pods, while fantastic birds and feathers
accompany these to carry the prayers. It may be admitted that the modern
craftsman is often enough ignorant of the full early significance of the
motifs used, but she goes on using them because they express her idea of
beauty and because she knows that always they have been used to express
belief in an animate universe and with the hope of influencing the
unseen powers by such recognition in art.
The modern craftsman may even tell you that the once meaningful symbols
mean nothing now, and this may be true, but the medicine men and the old
people still hold the traditional symbols sacred, and this reply may be
the only short and polite way of evading the troublesome stranger to
whom any real explanation would be difficult and who would quite likely
run away in the middle of the patient explanation to look at something
else. Only those whose friendship and understanding have been tested
will be likely to be told of that which is sacred lore. However, if the
tourist insists upon having a story with his basket or pottery and the
seller realizes that it's a story or no sale, he will glibly supply a
story, be he Indian or white, both story and basket being made for
tourist consumption.
To the old time Indian everything had a being or spirit of its own, and
there was an actual feeling of sympathy for the basket or pot that
passed into the hands of unsympathetic foreigners, especially if the
object were ceremonial. The old pottery maker never speaks in a loud
tone while firing her ware and often sings softly for fear the new being
or spirit of the pot will become agitated and break the pot in trying to
escape. Nampeo, the venerable Tewa potter, is said to talk to the
spirits of her pots while firing them, adjuring them to be docile and
not break her handiwork by trying to escape. But making things to sell
is different--how could it be otherwise?
In one generation Indian craftsmen have come to be of two classes, those
who make quantities of stuff for sale and those few who become real
artists, ambitious to save from oblivion the significance and idealism
of the old art that was done for the glory of the gods. Indian art may
survive with proper encouragement, but it must come now; after a while
will be too late.
A notably fine example of such encouragement is the work of Mary Russell
F. Colton of Flagstaff, Arizona, in the Hopi Craftsman Exhibition held
annually at the Northern Arizona Museum of which she is art curator. At
the 1931 Exhibition, 142 native Hopi sent in 390 objects. Over $1500
worth of material was sold and $200 awarded in prizes. The attendance
total of visitors was 1,642. From this exhibit a representative
collection of Hopi Art was assembled for the Exposition of Indian Tribal
Arts at the Grand Central Galleries, New York City, in December of the
same year. A gratifying feature of these annual exhibits is the fact
that groups of Hopi come in from their reservation 100 miles away and
modestly but happily move about examining and enjoying these lovely
samples of their own best work and that of their neighbors; and they are
quick to observe that it is the really excellent work that gets the blue
ribbon, the cash prize, and the best sale.
Dr. Fewkes points out that while men invented and passed on the
mythology of the tribe, women wrote it down in symbols on their
handicrafts which became the traditional heritage of all.
The sand paintings made for special ceremonies on the floors of the
various kivas, in front of the altars, are likewise designs carried only
in the memory of the officiating priest and derived from the clan
traditions. All masks and ceremonial costumes are strictly prescribed by
tradition. The corn symbol is used on everything. Corn has always been
the bread of life to the Hopi, but it has been more than food, it has
been bound up by symbolism with his ideas of all fertility and
beneficence. Hopi myths and rituals recognize the dependence of their
whole culture on corn. They speak of corn as their mother. The chief of
a religious fraternity cherishes as his symbol of high authority an ear
of corn in appropriate wrappings said to have belonged to the society
when it emerged from the underworld. The baby, when twenty days old, is
dedicated to the sun and has an ear of corn tied to its breast.