Hopi Potter

"I'M A THOUSAND MILES FROM NOWHERE; time don't matter to me." Dwight Yokum's lament flowed from a tape as our four-wheeldrive rig did a tango along the narrow "mud" road on the Hopi Indian Reservation southeast of Keams Canyon. My photographer husband, Jerry, and I were driving toward Bluebird Canyon with potter Dawn Navasie to gather clay as her mother and great-aunt, Hopi/Tewa potters Eunice "Fawn" Navasie and Joy "Frog Woman" Navasie, once did. Later we would spend the day photographing Dawn at work. At Hopi, the feeling of being "a thousand miles from nowhere" can be very real. The seclusion and quietness blend with the slower pace and the ancient traditions to give the sensation of stepping back into the past. That feeling intensified as we approached Dawn's old family home, which stood amid scattered juniper trees and dwarfed piñon pines. The peach trees in the orchard were bare, and the dried cornstalks in the field rustled in the chilly breeze of the January morning. Patches of snow covered the ground, and the thermometer hovered near 45° F. beneath a pale, watery sun. Each gust of wind seemed to send the temperature plummeting. Dawn moved to the nearby clay "pit" carrying her shovel. I followed and looked down into a broad, shallow depression where a vein of gray clay ran through the red dirt about 12 inches beneath the topsoil. As I shivered in my Hi-Tec hikers, Dawn remarked that we were lucky "it turned out to be such a nice day." She dug her shovel into the native clay, then bagged it, explaining that she usually gathers about 25 pounds at a time, enough to make approximately 50 pots of various sizes. Fortunately for my Sonoran Desert-climatized body, she didn't plan to dig much clay

Dawn Navasie

(OPPOSITE PAGE) One of Dawn Navasie's pottery jars rests next to two small polishing stones and two large stone pallets she uses to prepare paints from natural materials. Her brushes are made from strips of the yucca plant.

'THE PAINTING WAS THE HARDEST PART WHEN I FIRST BEGAN MAKING POTTERY. MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME HOW TO MAKE IT, BUT SHE SAID THE ONLY WAY TO LEARN TO PAINT THE PIECES WAS TO DO IT. SO THAT'S WHAT I DID.'

This time. We soon began the “slip and slide” journey back across Antelope Mesa to her late mother's home where Dawn's pottery is fired.

Awaiting us was her husband, Don Mahkewa, who helps with the potterymaking, except the painting.

Dawn opened the bag of clay, and using her fingers she formed the base of a pot. With a small wooden scraper, she worked the base as Don shaped the first coil. With speed and dexterity, she added one coil after another then pinched and smoothed the pot into shape. “I guess I've never really thought much about the ancient potters or the long tradition of making pottery,” she said as she worked the clay. “I just know what my mother taught me and my grandmother.” I was reminded of a recent visit with the daughter of another Tewa potter, the late Helen “Feather Woman” Naha. Unlike Dawn, Rainy Naha expressed a keen interest in ancient pottery.

“I majored in archaeology at Brigham Young University,” she had said. “I have a degree, but now I just make pottery. My archaeology background does help me, though. When I see a pottery shard, I can picture the structure of the piece in my mind and know where it would probably be placed on the pot. I've chosen to keep the traditional designs my mother left with me. I make mostly black and white pottery with just a tiny bit of color. I like that. It's like adding a little lipstick to liven the face.” Hopi artists are innumerable and prolific, producing all types of art - kachinas, baskets, jewelry, paintings, and pottery. Their Anasazi ancestors created beautiful pottery that has endured for hundreds of years, and their skills and talents have been passed down through the generations.

Many Hopi potters like Dawn Navasie, are descendants of Tewans from the Rio Grande pueblos of New Mexico who sought refuge with the Hopis following the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. They were granted sanctuary and settled in the village of Hano after defending the Hopis during a Ute raid.

Intermarriage with the Hopis was common then and now, but the people of Hano are still usually referred to as Hopi/Tewa. Though the two cultures blended, Tewans have preserved their language and heritage and have been a major influence on the pottery-making tradition. Some of the most recognized names among Hopi potters are descendants of the First Mesa Tewans: Nampeyo, Navasie, Naha, Huma, Chapella, Quotskuyva, Tahbo, Sahmie, Namingha, Youvella, Polacca, and others.

Dawn Navasie carries on her Tewa tradition along with her sisters, Fawn Garcia and White Swan.

“The three of us divided up our mother's polishing stones,” Dawn said as she polished a pottery jar. “And we find others in the riverbed.” Setting the jar aside, she brought out her few painting supplies: yucca brushes and (OPPOSITE PAGE) The yellow paint Dawn uses on her pottery comes from native clay, the dark from beeplant or mustard weed. (ABOVE) This pottery by Dawn ranges in diameter from 24 inches to 10 inches.

POTS COURTESY MCGEE'S BEYOND TRADITION GALLERY, HOLBROOK Sandstone palettes for mixing the natural paints. “I use only two colors,” she explained. “Black and red. The red color comes from yellow clay mixed with water. It turns red during firing. It was Bruce McGee [a trader] who helped me with the color. He told me that if I polished the pottery more, the red color would be brighter, and it worked.

“It takes a lot of time to make the asa [the black]. The leaves of beeplant or mustard weed are boiled until a sap forms. It hardens and is wrapped in corn husks. When I'm ready to paint, I break off small pieces and soak them in water.” As she readied her materials, Dawn held the small yucca strips in her mouth to soften them, then drew them through her teeth to shred the ends. With a steady hand, and without a pattern, she began painting intricate lines on the pot.

“The painting was the hardest part when I first began making pottery,” she said. “My mother taught me how to make it, but she said the only way to learn to paint the pieces was to do it. So that's what I did.” Then it was time for the firing. The sun had come out, and I could almost agree that

HOPI/TEWA POTTER Dawn Navasie

'THEY MUST BE COMPLETELY COVERED SO THE FIRE WON'T BURN THE POTS,' DAWN EXPLAINED. 'IF WE LEAVE A SMALL HOLE, ESPECIALLY ON A WINDY DAY, THE FLAMES WILL LEAVE "CLOUDS" ON THE POTTERY.'

It was a nice day. However, I eyed the storm clouds to the southwest warily. It looked suspiciously like snow coming from those clouds, and they weren't all that far away.

Accompanied by Western music from the radio in his pickup, Don laid a circle of cedar wood on a platform of concrete blocks then piled smaller chips and kindling in the center and added pieces of dry sheep dung.

"He does all the dirty work," Dawn said, grinning as she added more wood and sheep dung to the fire. They put large shards of broken pottery beside the fire to warm.

When the fire burned down, small dung chips were sprinkled over the coals and larger pieces were placed in a circle around the outer edge. A grate covered with tin was set over the fire, and large, flat pottery shards were laid on the tin.

The pieces to be fired, which Don had placed in the kitchen oven to preheat, were brought out, and Dawn placed them on the flat shards. As Don added pieces of sheep dung to the outside circle, Dawn balanced large, curved shards against and over the newly made pots.

"They must be completely covered so the fire won't burn the pots," Dawn explained. "If we leave a small hole, especially on a windy day, the flames will leave 'clouds' on the pottery."

Many potters find natural beauty in the "fire clouds," but Don and Dawn try to avoid them by adding bent pieces of tin that completely enclose the pots. This is then covered with a mound of sheep dung, stacked symmetrically and precisely so the fire can breathe as it slowly burns from bottom to top.

Don sprinkled dried cedar sprigs around the bottom of the fire to purify the pottery, while Dawn placed four plain walnut-size pots in the fire, one in each of the four directions. "We do this if something has been going wrong with the pottery or there has been a death in the family," she explained. "It is done for a blessing or to cleanse."

It was all over now but the waiting, and it would be four or five hours before we would know the results of the firing. In the meantime, Dawn showed us the broken pieces of a huge pottery wedding vase that she had made for the Santa Fe Indian Market. The pot had been preheated but had cooled before it was placed on the rack for firing. Consequently, when the heat began to penetrate, the pot simply exploded.

"That's the heartbreaking part of making pottery," Dawn said. "But that will teach us not to be in such a hurry."

Pottery-making requires patience, a trait that is sadly lacking in me. However, as we waited for the fire to burn down, I had time to ponder this ancient craft and the incongruity of such beautiful objects being formed from raw earth, polished with stones, and fired with sheep dung.

Finally, came the moment of truth. We waited in hushed anticipation as Dawn used a long pair of tongs to gently lift the tin, then the pottery shards off the newlyFired pots. They were perfect. The swirling gust of cold wind that scattered the ashes seemed to echo our collective sigh of relief. All was well.

Too soon it was time for us to leave. It would be long after midnight before we reached our Phoenix home. The air was crisp and cold as we drove down the nowfrozen track toward the highway. The storm had passed, and millions of stars twinkled in a jet-black sky. The night was still and quiet, and the snow sparkled in the glow of the headlights as we crept along.

"A thousand miles from nowhere . . ."

Author's Note: Hopi pottery can be purchased directly from some potters at First Mesa on the Hopi reservation, 65 miles north of Winslow. However, museum shops and reputable galleries normally have a good selection and may be the better choice, especially for the novice buyer. One may expect to pay from under $100 to several thousand dollars for a single piece of pottery, depending upon its size and quality and the reputation of the potter.