Gold, Silver and a Trouch of Forever

Gold, Silver and a Touch of Forever Indian Jewelry Goes Contemporary

Text by Pam Hait Photography by Jerry Jacka They come from everywhere - from New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, California, Montana, even Topeka, Kansas. Some, like Lee Yazzie and Harvey Begay, continue a long line of artistic excellence. Others, like Boyd and Richard Tsosie, are the first in their families to take up the jeweler's tools. A few artists, like Phil Sekaquaptewa, consider their Indian identity paramount to their artistic endeavors. Others, like Don Juan, were raised in an Anglo-emphasized environment and aren't as well-versed in their Indian culture. Each is striving to find a style he can call his own. A Montana-based Hopi, Phil Navasya, is making his name spinning out sheer elliptical gold discs, accented by delicate, multihued lapidary pinwheels. Navasya, who explains that people compared his designs to the rings around Saturn, is fascinated with the movement which can dance on a highly polished surface. A blend of the contemporary and traditional Indian, Phil plans to build a home for his mother on the reservation at Old Oraibi. Of his own heritage he offers simply, "It's nice to be an Indian. You have this strong base, so you can be anything you want to be." Navasya's forté is his golden beads which he shapes in such subtle gradations of size that a necklace seems to grow in front of your eyes in a golden ever-widening halo. Like finely pulled spun sugar, he stretches his discs of precious and semi-precious stones; the effect is totally controlled, slim beauty a concept he continually refines.

Yet other artists, like Ted Charveze, cannot be typed. An Isleta Indian, living in Kansas, Charveze admits he is still searching for his identity and individual style. But he considers that this works to his advantage. "I'm finding that I'm making fewer pieces each day, but put more quality into my work. Not too many Indians are versatile, and I think that's where it's at. To me, being an artist means that you experiment. I do feel I'm at a disadvantage because I'm not in the mainstream." Yet both the Queen of Denmark and Princess of Luxembourg have visited his studio. Many of these artists explain that ideas come to them as dreams. Harvey Chavarria keeps a blank book by his bed at night to record the designs he visualizes. An artist who delights in using various woods - ebony, ironwood, and cherry Chavarria spent some time working with the Forest Service before deciding to devote himself full-time to his art. While Charveze, Navasya, and Chavarria are working to make names for themselves other artists like Dennis Edaakie and Lee Yazzie, at comparatively young ages, already are recognized masters of their techniques. Asked to comment about Edaakie's work, Dennis June of McGee's Indian Den replied, "Dennis's work is the standard by which we measure Zuni inlay." Yazzie, at 32, is slight, serious and confesses he once had dreams of becoming an accountant. His parents are respected silversmiths, but he was not excited by jewelry. "I was always around it," he explained. But his attitude changed when he was forced to drop out of Brigham Young University to have an operation for a congenital hip problem. After that, he began working with Joe Tanner. Within a few years, Yazzie was doing the inlay work for Preston Monongye's castings.

(Left above IJ-148) The rings around Saturn spun in gold and set off by multihued lapidary discs from the hands of Phil Navasya, Hopi. Discs of turquoise, abalone shell, coral, and mother of pearl reflect the colors of the sun's glow.

(Right above IJ-149) Duane Maktima, Hopi, teams turquoise, coral, mother of pearl, lapis lazuli and ironwood against a traditional overlay design in a contemporary free-form pendant. Courtesy Nadler's Indian Arts, Scottsdale.

(Above IJ-150) Gold ring by Harvey Chavarria, Santa Clara, crowned by a single jewel of turquoise.

(Left IJ-151) Elegant reversible pendant by Ted Charveze, Isleta, joins gold and diamonds with turquoise.

The Mexican dollar, owing to its purity, is employed by the silver smith in preference to the silver dollar of the United States. The silver is known to the Zunis, at least at the present time, and the Zunis claim that their people never worked in silver or copper before the presence of the Spaniards. With crude implements appeared tailored elaborate ornaments for bridles, silver belts, and Indian rings for women. The farmers and silver bangles, and rings for women. The farmers follows silver everything pertaining to the workshop of the silver smith is also that general utility man of the village.

Yazzie, who lives in Gallup with his wife and two daughters, purposely challenges himself by limiting his materials. “But I’m not organized at all,” he laughed. “I’m very forgetful. I never remember where I am on a piece, so probably I never did belong in accounting.” Acclaimed for his ability to do intricate, perfect inlay, Yazzie also is experimenting with what he calls “fusion.” “It’s a lot like Richard Tsosie’s “reticulation,” the young Navajo explained. He sprinkles silver filings on a sheet of silver, heating the silver almost to the melting point. “I don’t use any solder,” he emphasized. “Fusion has its limitations. For instance, it’s not good for detailed work, but it does provide a good background to change the texture of a piece. I like to combine it with lots of chiseling. It gives good contrast.” With his reputation secure, Lee says his parents are still his best critics. “When we were young, there were six boys and six girls and my parents living together in a one-room hogan. They called us a pack of sardines. I dreamed of doing something different from my parents’ jewelry.” Aware that his work is highly prized by his fellow artists, the serious Navajo smiled slowly and suggested, “That’s why I need to keep going.” And the artists continue to create. New styles, variations on ancient themes, exciting combinations of gems, some scaled down to the barest, most pure designs, others carefully controlled, intricately engineered creations all attest to the emerging place of Indian jewelry in the mainstream of art.

But, in addition to pure artistry, these Indian creations have something more, a bewitching power of attraction that delights the beholder, a depth of soul that appeals to metaphysical senses. Blessed with an ability to impart exciting new dimensions to even the most commonplace, the jewelry is instinctively appreciated.

I saw it happen in the fall of 1978, when I accompanied photographer Jerry Jacka on one of his many photo assignments for this issue. This one happened to be Monument Valley.

We arrived loaded with cameras and gear, about a half-million dollars in jewelry, and a bevy of pretty Indian models all confined within the narrow space of a 4-wheel-drive GMC “Jimmy.” The Valley was as it had been for countless ages: very still and filled with drifting sand and rocky monuments which looked as though they might have been put in place by some giant unseen hand.

But while the models appreciated the natural phenomena, they were fascinated by the cache that covered the truck’s tailgate where precious metals and minerals gold and silver, turquoise, malachite, lapis lazuli, diamonds and coral glittered in the sun. The young Indian women reached for them hesitantly, then carefully held and admired the artists’ pieces. Laughingly, the models helped each other fasten clasps and, standing back, they studied the effects, adjusting a pendant, straightening a ring. Then a transformation took place.

Familiar faces assumed decorous dignity when framed by a single Loloma earring. Strong bronzed hands that could gentle the most willful horse, grew elegant when graced by gorgeous rings. Tanned sturdy arms emerged as sophisticated statements of intense emotion when dressed with daring bracelets of gold or silver. Throats swathed in sculpted silver and necks bearing golden fantasies basked in the glory of hand-wrought beauty.

Lounging against the truck in sandy denim disarray only moments before, the women, now bedecked with the best contemporary Indian jewelry, smiled at the regal worldly beauties they had become. The jewelry wove its magic, and the air grew pregnant with anticipation. The shifting thickness of the Valley's floor seemed a tightly woven carpet to usher the proud young princesses to their destinations. Contemporary Cinderellas, they knew that their fantasies were fed on more substantial fare than pumpkins. They floated on gold and silver dreams expertly cast by artists whose own dreams were soldered and set with precious stones.

The Indian women borrowed elegance from the magnificence of the designs. They gained sparkle from the faceted and smooth-faced stones and mystery from the artists' imaginations. They brought life and love and joy to the collections, the women and the jewelry sharing the moment, each giving substance to the other.

I later saw similar effects at museum and gallery shows, where crowds of sophisticated connoisseurs thronged about the showcases. Gone was the natural setting of rock and sand. In its place bright lights, champagne, and finger sandwiches. Yet for all the glorious stage setting, it was the jewelry which held center stage, dominating even the beautiful buyers.

"Mildred, look at this gorgeous Loloma bracelet," said the chicly frosted head bent close to the display case. "The colors and textures are so magnificent. If only I could hold that bracelet. Charles' Jewelry has this incredible feel to it...."

Her companion agreed, but headed toward a futuristic gold-disc necklace in a nearby case. Everywhere beringed fingers pointed excitedly at gorgeous pieces. Bracelets flashed on everyones' arms, and conversations swirled about soldering techniques, setting stones, and "must-see" artists.

The jewelry show put the crowd in a festive mood. The flash of burnished gold, sleek silver, the dazzle of diamonds teemed with turquoise and other gemstones created a holiday air that hummed with anticipation.

Then, later still, far removed from the museum and gallery scene, the jewelry continued to work its magic. High on second Mesa on the Hopi Reservation, where ancient homes hug the cliffs, and the passing centuries are only minimally acknowledged, a child tosses a multicolored rubber ball on a packed earth plaza outside a home, while inside, Hopi women talk softly about their husbands, and their children. When asked, they shyly agree to model the new jewelry for us. They give each other appraising glances, smooth hair, adjust collars, and straighten blouses. Putting on the pendants, rings and bracelets, they grow pensive as they gaze at the traditional turquoise now set in the most contemporary terms.

Adorned, the models grace the pieces and the jewelry adds dimension to the room. The simple place is charged with dignity. No one needs to ask what a piece is supposed to mean. No one seeks an explanation for an artist's design. Firmly rooted in a heritage which goes beyond the hammer of the early silversmiths, these women understand because the work speaks to them of their beginnings.

Effortlessly, contemporary Indian jewelry transcends the generations.

(Above, left to right) Jesse Monongye warns that it is bad luck to make a sunface while the sun is up. "If I try to, then nothing works right." Here, he illustrates the delicate art involved. To fit the inlay surface into the circular depression on the bracelet, he grinds the square surface and sculpts the sunface nose with a single cylinder of jet. Working freehand, he expertly trims the block to fit the circular space. Dropping the sunface into the bracelet, the artist joins the inlay to the body. Jesse's magic touch enables him to judge the shapes and sizes almost perfectly by eye, never measuring. (Left) The finished bracelet illustrates his mastery of inlay, magnificent testimony to the young man's skill.

Photographs by Jerry Jacka