Dusty:

I was looking for Janis, but as the caption to this video notes, it doesn't appear to be available on YouTube.

Still, I think my heart has always belonged to Tina's version.

No, he's not.

He's the son of a Road Man, though, so I guess it's our cultural analogue.

I've had this song in my head all day, which might explain why I can't get anything done.

So here's where I ask you to spread word of the show itself.

Yes, we made our goal, thanks to a little [lot of] help from our friends, here and elsewhere. And, yes, people can still contribute, if they're so inclined.

But what I'd like now is for folks to spread the word about the show itself. This is really a big deal for Wings, of course, but as our friend Grey Hawk noted in his diary yesterday, it's also very important from a cultural standpoint. This gives us an opportunity to reach a whole new audience in one of the nation's important cultural centers and introduce them to Native art in a way they've likely never envisioned. I'd love to see the show itself be a huge success for the Cocteau, so that there'll be future such opportunities for Native artists, not only there but in similar venues around the country.

You can read more about the show in detail here. You can read the venue's official announcement here. And if you know anyone inclined to kick in a few bucks, you can send them to Wings's GoFundMe page here, or hit the PayPal button above. 

Most of all, please spread the word: "Like," "Share," "Tweet," e-mail, republish, cross-post, and tell your friends. Let's rock this exhibition!

Chi miigwech.




Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

One Year Ago Today: The Firebird, Maria Tallchief

Author's Note:  I wrote this obituary last year, which appeared on April 15, 2013, as part of my weekly Indian news round-up at Daily Kos. Death and loss have been on mind for rather obvious reasons, but the Firebird has been dancing through my thoughts for days now. It seemed appropriate to remember her today, as well.

When I was a little girl, one of the many things I wanted to be when I grew up was a ballerina. So did a lot of the other little girls I knew. But in my case, I didn't want to be just a ballerina; I wanted to be one specific ballerina. I wanted to be the next Maria Tallchief. I loved everything about her — her stunning beauty, her almost liquid grace, her powerful-sounding name, her insistence on maintaining her identity. And I loved the hope she represented: that, at a time when Indians were invisible to the larger world except as Hollywood Western stereotypes, a little Indian girl maybe, just maybe, could grow up to be anything she wanted.

Born in Fairfax, Oklahoma, on January 24, 1925, to an Osage father and a Scots-Irish mother, Elizabeth Marie Tall Chief was already dancing by age three. She began dancing professionally in 1942, when she joined the Ballet Russe dance company. At that time, Americans regarded Russians as the only dancers capable of "true" ballet, and so dancers of all nationalities took "Russian" names in an attempt to seem more "authentic." The year she joined, Ballet Russe officials asked Ms. Tallchief to change her name from Marie Tall Chief to Maria Tallchieva. Determined to maintain her Osage identity, the 17-year-old refused, although she did consent to altering her name to Maria and to merging her two-word surname into one word.

Ms. Tallchief broke barriers throughout her career. She was the first Native prima ballerina, and in 1944, began working with famed Russian choreographer George Balanchine. Obituaries widely refer to her as his "muse," and in 1946, she also became his wife. That same year, he cast her in his production with the Paris Opera Ballet, making her not only the first Indian, but the first American, ever to perform with the dance company. In 1947, when her contract with Ballet Russe expired, she followed Balanchine to New York to become one of the founding dancers of the New York City Ballet Company. Her talent and presence were such that she made the Firebird, the Swan Queen, and the Sugarplum Fairy her own, creating archetypes for future generations of aspiring dancers. She continued to dance with the New York City Ballet until her retirement in 1966.

Her marriage to Balanchine had long since ended, as had her second marriage to an aviator. In 1956, she was married for the final time, to Henry "Buzz" Paschen, Jr., with whom she had a stepdaughter and a biological daughter. After retiring from dancing, she moved to Chicago, where she continued to break barriers. She founded the ballet company at the Lyric Opera of Chicago in the 1970s; in 1981, she and her younger sister, Marjorie Tallchief, co-founded the Chicago City Ballet.

Through it all, she never abandoned her identity. Her obituary in the Chicago Sun-Times is accompanied by a slideshow of photos from various stages of her life; among them is a 1997 photo, taken in her home in Chicago, of her standing next to a framed, very old black and white photograph of her great-grandfather, Big Heart. Today, there are statues in her honor in Oklahoma, and the Osage Nation gave her a traditional name, Wa-Xthe-Thomba, which reportedly translates into English as "Woman of Two Standards." To generations of little Indian girls around the country, perhaps the most significant standard she carried was the one labeled "hope."

Normally, I would say that, on April 11th, 2013, Maria Tallchief walked on. But in this case, I don't think it's really accurate. I think that, four days ago, the Firebird stood en pointe one last time, and then took flight.



Copyright Ajijaakwe, 2013, 2014; all rights reserved.

Almost halfway there via GFM!

Plus another $500+ or so via PayPal, so effectively, only about $1,000 still needed.

Two wonderful Kossacks, Avilyn and Grey Hawk, have posted diaries in support of this project; you can read them here and here. [Grey Hawk's (the latter one) is currently on the Recent List, so recs and shares are helpful right at this moment.] Many, many thanks, my friends, to both of you from both of us. Many, many thanks to everyone who has donated, rec'd, tipped, shared, liked, tweeted, and otherwise supported this effort. 

Also, many, many thanks to everyone for their kind thoughts after Lilith walked on yesterday afternoon. Her fierce little spirit will be with us through the show.

Here's the GoFundMe link again, if you'd be so kind as to share it with your networks.

And once the show is over, I'll be posting a full retrospective, including images of all of the photos and all of the silverwork, here. If I can get past the Daily Kos script demons, I'll cross-post it there, too.

Chi miigwech and ta'a, from both of us. 




Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

Oh, my sweet baby girl . . . .

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

Thursday, April 10, 2014.  4:16 PM MDT.

Our fierce little warrior girl finally lost her battle.

This is how I'd rather remember our little kachina girl ("Kachina" was Wings's nickname for her).

We love you, Lilith.

My heart is ripped into shreds.

We're 29% of the way there.

Today's reminder.

Sorry, y'all. Only a few more days. Please share this with your networks; you never know who'll see it and feel compelled to support Native art and cultural identity.





Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.