What: Comic Art Indigène
Where: Museum of Indian Arts & Culture, Laboratory of AnthropologyWhen: Like, now man. Well, almost. May 11th 2008- January 4th, 2009
Why: See the below Artist's Statement
Comic book characters have traditionally been about a yearning for heroes to come to the rescue that never did in real life. Superman and Batman are good examples. Superman was born in the waning days of the Great Depression and some of his stories involved “stuff” like him being the ultimate social activist, fighting corrupt politicians and businessmen for the most part. Only later did he start fighting the arch-criminal types. Doesn’t this say something interesting about American culture?
If one were to sift even further, you could make the argument that comic book heroes are really an extension of the yearning for mythical characters to come to life. After messing around with art that is almost pure mythology for ten years, I’ve become something of an expert on trying to decipher what myths are all about too. Instead of doing the more traditional scholarly essays, my interpretations have been as an artist.
Our own indigenous Northwest Coast culture has a powerful mythological tradition too, rife with characters that are not only pugnacious, but are also filled with irony and humor. Our mythical character is Raven, whose main trait is to be simultaneously scrappy and funny. Instead of fighting corrupt politicians like Superman did, he brazenly took on a mendacious, greedy Chief who has lost his way from being the type of forthright and visionary leader that the people desperately needed. The corrupt Chief was the ultimate villain in that he was so greedy that he actually stole light from the world. Isn’t that a wonderful metaphor for a bad guy? Our hero, who was kind of a scoundrel himself, came to the rescue and stole the sun, replacing it back in the sky where it belonged. Raven was white before this, and his act turned him black as he is today, so he paid a price for his audacity, another almost sublime part of the mythology. Raven was a transformer, changing shape at will. Superman was a transformer too, changing his identity from a mundane everyday guy into someone that was, uh, well… super (as in wonderful, fantastic, marvelous and brilliant).
I’ve had a Tonto comic for years. Sometimes people (and especially artists) just have things lying around that seem to serve no real purpose except that is has some kind of resonance that makes sense. My theory is that we have an intuitive part of ourselves that knows things, and that artists sometimes “tune in” to what this is about. That’s what happened with my Tonto work. I’ll freely admit that the intellectual part of me had no idea what I was doing with Tonto, only that it happened without much conscious thought. In my own art, I transformed Tonto from something of a dimwitted sidekick to the proverbial main hero character. He transforms right before our eyes and starts kicking butt in the postcolonial world, setting disgusting and repugnant people like Edward Curtis straight, with one mighty punch. In this sense, the comic book aesthetic is perfect for what I want to do with my art, especially as Raven acts as a literal foundation for the art.
Why: See the below Artist's Statement
Vanishing Race, 101
Comic book characters have traditionally been about a yearning for heroes to come to the rescue that never did in real life. Superman and Batman are good examples. Superman was born in the waning days of the Great Depression and some of his stories involved “stuff” like him being the ultimate social activist, fighting corrupt politicians and businessmen for the most part. Only later did he start fighting the arch-criminal types. Doesn’t this say something interesting about American culture?
If one were to sift even further, you could make the argument that comic book heroes are really an extension of the yearning for mythical characters to come to life. After messing around with art that is almost pure mythology for ten years, I’ve become something of an expert on trying to decipher what myths are all about too. Instead of doing the more traditional scholarly essays, my interpretations have been as an artist.
Our own indigenous Northwest Coast culture has a powerful mythological tradition too, rife with characters that are not only pugnacious, but are also filled with irony and humor. Our mythical character is Raven, whose main trait is to be simultaneously scrappy and funny. Instead of fighting corrupt politicians like Superman did, he brazenly took on a mendacious, greedy Chief who has lost his way from being the type of forthright and visionary leader that the people desperately needed. The corrupt Chief was the ultimate villain in that he was so greedy that he actually stole light from the world. Isn’t that a wonderful metaphor for a bad guy? Our hero, who was kind of a scoundrel himself, came to the rescue and stole the sun, replacing it back in the sky where it belonged. Raven was white before this, and his act turned him black as he is today, so he paid a price for his audacity, another almost sublime part of the mythology. Raven was a transformer, changing shape at will. Superman was a transformer too, changing his identity from a mundane everyday guy into someone that was, uh, well… super (as in wonderful, fantastic, marvelous and brilliant).
I’ve had a Tonto comic for years. Sometimes people (and especially artists) just have things lying around that seem to serve no real purpose except that is has some kind of resonance that makes sense. My theory is that we have an intuitive part of ourselves that knows things, and that artists sometimes “tune in” to what this is about. That’s what happened with my Tonto work. I’ll freely admit that the intellectual part of me had no idea what I was doing with Tonto, only that it happened without much conscious thought. In my own art, I transformed Tonto from something of a dimwitted sidekick to the proverbial main hero character. He transforms right before our eyes and starts kicking butt in the postcolonial world, setting disgusting and repugnant people like Edward Curtis straight, with one mighty punch. In this sense, the comic book aesthetic is perfect for what I want to do with my art, especially as Raven acts as a literal foundation for the art.
