Reductive Discernment Between the Crabs in the Barrel and Fake In'dins
You've done the work. Wrote the story, painted the painting, soldered the jewelry, sculpted the clay, or weaved the basket. You've put in the hours at the workstation, lost yourself in the art, creating work unique and powerful and meant to contribute to a collective of voices echoing from generations past. Then you take the work into the world. Now it's time to dance with the "crabs in the barrel" and the "fake In'dins."
It's a miracle when an artist makes it. So much so we have to celebrate each time it occurs. Just to sit back and think of all the obstacles that individual had to navigate to be successful is worth the admiration.Those of you who have consistently followed my blog and contributed in length to discussions are in for a ride. I'm going to give you a little insight into the Native art world. And some of it will sound familiar to your own circumstances, and then some of it you're going to scratch your head and try to figure out how and why.I've been in these circles a long time. I graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from the only Native Arts college in existence. The Institute of American Indian Arts is a unique institution which focuses on contemporary Native arts and is located in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It's churned out some of the greatest Native artists in the world. I'm lucky and grateful to have developed myself among so many Native intellectuals and artisans.To a certain extent, we were sheltered from a predatory art world. Maybe we needed to be sheltered so as to properly develop ourselves. I can see many strengths to developing in an isolated group of artists, so as to hone our skills before hitting a market that's symptomatic of pitfalls.Once we step into the arena, we encounter first the "crabs in the barrel," who are bent on never seeing another Native do well. This is the Natives against Natives idiocy that plays out. Instead of celebrating the talent of our fellow Natives, we are intimidated so we attack. We tear down those Natives around us, and the more talented or motivated the harder the attack. We can go after heritage association, by "How much In'din are you?," or "What family do you belong to?" And if that doesn't work, then we'll go after participation, as in "Do you even speak your language?" or "Have you been to a stomp dance?" We desperately reach and grab into the darkness for any and all cultural knowledge to weaponize and utilize to attack a fellow Native artist.
Then we have the "fake In'dins," who slither into our circles with false promises and outright lies. When I was at IAIA the first among this group I crossed was the infamous Joseph Boyden, who we all thought was Ojibwa, and nobody either knew otherwise or didn't tell us students otherwise. He certainly didn't tell us students otherwise. So where was his ethos? I assumed, "Hey, he's at a famous Native arts college and he's writing about Ojibwas, so he must be Ojibwa." IAIA wouldn't bring in a fake In'din? He was visiting the school and spent about a week on and off campus promoting his book. Then we find out he's not Native at all and he's won the Canadian equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize. More or less, he's taken an award out of a Canadian Native writer's hands.But what makes the situation hard for new and upcoming Native artists are the "fake In'dins" swimming in the shallows near the shore. When we first step into the real world arena, we often meet people, artists, who we can bond with because they are in the same boat--navigating the Native art scene. We believe they are Native because they say they are Native, and then at some point (often years down the line) we find out they are not Native at all. They have Native blood in their lineage but cannot prove it. Which in and of itself is fine, but if you are trying to capitalize off of it and put out what is to be considered "Native Art" then you are stealing from community born and raised Natives--stealing space, stealing awards, stealing time, stealing success. But we've seen this stealing before. It has been a consistent part of Native American history. It's adapted and changed faces, but it's all the same, and unfortunately we Natives must roll our eyes and say to ourselves, "Here we go again."Getting hit on both sides of the drum, a Native artist starts to see the "crabs in the barrel" and the "fake In'dins" as serving the same God. Ultimately they both keep down Native people. In a world that's already designed to suppress Native voices it makes it doubly difficult when the deception is woven with falsity and nicety. When fake In'dins try to butter you up with false promises--similar to what our ancestors encountered in the past--and crabs in the barrel who jump on our back to try and destroy any chance we have for success (while in the process attempting to gain success for themselves).Now tell me there's a difference.
(Images used in this post were borrowed from Wikimedia Commons)
Tuning into the Nuances of the Void
There are two things most dangerous: apathy and stagnation. For me? The former leads to the latter. It's a cycle of violence I've always struggled to overcome. It's like when I'm gourd dancing with my family, and I'm trying to predict by cadence and rhythm the switching of the beat so I can anticipate the appropriate next move--a move which keeps me in sync with my community but ultimately with my choices.
So that's a blend of artistry and pseudo-intellectualism to say something very simple: I get bored easily. I'll save the deep psychological reading of this behavior to my haters. They're likely more in tune with its nuances anyway.There are times in my life where I live in life and throw myself into passions deep and plentiful and I'm so deep in the subconscious I don't even have to breath. I've mutated, growing gills to pick up words and metaphors and I twist them into a story. Story gives me life.
Then there are times in my life where the void has no echo and the sound of my voice carries only inches from my mouth. If I screamed it would carry further, but I don't scream anyway so that doesn't matter. When the stagnation grows up my feet and grabs my ankles, through my veins and into my throat, my voice is lost. In desperation I can see apathy moving toward me like dark matter carrying a wave of asteroids ready to crush me. And you say the void has no noise. But it's loud. Louder than me, which is loud enough, and is the only decibel of importance.Then by sheer willpower, I lift my head, look at the computer screen, and write.
Capricorn Mind on Structure and Writing Process
"I gotta keep my Capricorn mind straight," said the planet of Saturn to the writer writing this post. Okay, so that first sentence had a weird third person shift--almost like a third person shift to a different third person gear, but the first third person perspective was oddly different from the latter, which was equally bizarre but uniquely awkward. See what I mean? I do need to keep this Capricorn mind straight. Saturn was right.
Everyone goes into their writing projects differently. No one does it the same so it can be hard to offer advice on how to start the process of writing on something as large as a novel. Many writers like writing blind. Meaning, they get the idea for the story and just start writing wherever the story begins in their mind and as they write the storyline will magically unfold. Well, not magically, but as you write then a sequence tends to come to mind so you follow the sequence. Then you revise and insert more elements to the story as they manifest along the way. That's writing in the dark.I do like writing in the dark for short stories. There seems to be an urgency to short stories that forces me to write it all down as fast as possible. People also call this the vomit method. I prefer to say writing in the dark. Regurgitation is not something I want to associate with my writing process. Or any of my process really.But for the novel? Maybe you've come up with a good idea. You've been wanting to write it for years, maybe decades, and you've not yet come to start the process. Writing a novel in the dark is possible. Many writers have done so and like the method. But I can't seem to do it.
Writing a novel has so many elements to it. Not only do you have the main plot, but you also have a series of subplots that can either mirror the main plot, highlight a trait of the main character, or be a complete escape from the main plot so as to break the tension or give the reader an opportunity to breath (while simultaneously showing a new side to the main character). All these subplots weave in and out of the main plot making for a beautifully constructed basket at the end.If you want to make beautiful art, a beautiful basket, you have to be purposeful with the way you weave each strand (subplot) against the basket's base (main plot). Because this process takes so much mental energy and careful planning, I like to outline my novels. Now I don't use an essay style outline. That would kill my energy quick. I can see you now. You're throwing your hands in the air and groaning, saying, "Oscar, I'm not going back to high school tactics to write a book." And I couldn't agree with you more.
Here's what I do. I use One Note. If you haven't used it then I'd give it a try, or you can use something similar. What One Note gives me are tools I can use to creatively engage with my writing. Not only can I free write in random boxes, and then move those boxes around, but I can also draw out graphs. Hand made line graphs, not the standard graphs made for reports. I need something that makes sense to the flow of my story. I use the drawing tool and I'll draw zigzag lines leading up to the apex or crescendo of the story. Then I use text next to each peak and valley so as to mark what happens in the story. Typically, each peak and each valley represents a chapter.So when you go into outlining it doesn't have to be an English high school class all over again. You can get creative with it. But what I find? It helps me guide the story. I used this method with the novel I'm revising now, Uncle Called Him Spider, and I've started the outline of a new novel (which is why I'm writing this post). I'm about seven chapters deep into the outline of the new novel. I know the ending and I know the beginning, and I'm using the weaving method to create the middle. I actually enjoy this part of the process. It's the planning part, which comes from my Capricorn mind.
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(Images Cited: The images above were borrowed from Wikimedia Commons, Flicr, and Pinterest)
Tiny Trophies Alongside the Road
Getting bogged down in the muck is an artist's nightmare. You've done the initial work. Maybe you painted the paintings, recorded the songs, or wrote the novels, and then you have to take the creation and offer it to world. Just when you thought you were done. There's a million more hurdles.
When I wrote short stories I had these tiny trophies of publication to remind myself to keep going. I'd have the excitement of getting published and then the hardcopy would come in and then I'd be excited again. Then I'd get to tell family and friends. So each short story publication offered multiple rewards which would give me the fuel to keep myself in the grind.Don't get me wrong. I love to write. The space is a meditative space which is not matched by any substance on the planet. I can truly leave this planet when I sit down to write. The rest of the harsh world disappears. I'm left with my thoughts and my imagination; both aimed at solving the world's problems. It's powerful.But I would be lying if I didn't admit to days when I wished I was writing short stories again. I'm revising my novel, Uncle Called Him Spider, and writing a novel is a much longer journey. A marathon. It's been two years. Two years of running. It's been longer since I had a short story published. I'm feeling such a void maybe I'll pull out one of my old short stories; one I hadn't published, and I'll send it in to a journal. You would think we artists can survive with no attention at all, because for so long we survive without any light. But for those of us still seeking a space to call our own, some consistent stream of give and take with an audience, we must stay viable by any means. And sometimes those are tiny trophies alongside the road.
Support a Native owned Etsy shop, Allies United, where I offer unique merch for allies of social justice movements, like MMIW, Native Lives Matter and Black Lives Matter. Take a look inside my Etsy shop here: etsy.com/shop/AlliesUnited.
(Works cited: the above image was borrowed from Wikimedia Commons)
Struggling Artists Unite!
So I'm about to rant. I know...you're saying to yourself, "Oscar, you always rant." But this is going to be a special kind of rant. I'm going to unburden myself with all the reasons why artists need to be supported. In every way, emotionally and financially. We don't live in an age of benefactors! If artists are going to be the voice for the under-heard and disadvantaged, then we need fuel for the fire, we need people surrounding us and giving us the energy to keep fighting.So first off, if you want me to give you a freebee then come at me with a genuine curiosity about my literature. I'm happy to share under those circumstances and have emailed free copies of my stories to many of my followers on this blog. Because many of my followers are artists themselves and understand where I'm coming from. I support them as much as they support me. It's called reciprocity. But don't come at me like a privileged little shit and expect me to give you a freebee because you're an over righteous douche bag. Don't approach me like I've violated you because I've attached a meager 99 cent price tag on a short story. I'm sorry you have to walk all the way to your car in the driveway and dig out 99 cents from your console.
Second, I went to college for six years to obtain the degrees I hang on my walls, to write provocative stories that are meant to help you grow as a human being as much as entertain you with my tribal culture. I'm not an ethnographer. I'm an artist. I'm not here to get rich, but it'd be nice to eat more than just ramen noodle soup sometimes. I'm sure my kids would appreciate that as well. I'm not working out of a multi-millionaire's purse. I don't have a benefactor paying my bills. I work fulltime. I'm a fulltime, single father. And I write fiction. My drive to realize the benevolence of this literary profession is the reason I write. I believe in the literary field's ability to transform people to better understand each other, like I believe in America's will to give people the freedom to figure out how to live cohesively. All of that faith and effort takes time and energy.Lastly, if there is any spirit left in this mass consumption society, we, the artists, possess it, and remind you with every word and every painting and every sculpture that you too have spirit and you need to go seek it out and find it. There is a reason people are drawn toward literature, paintings, sculptures, music, etc., etc. When you hear that song, when the words in a story make you pause, when a painting makes your mind quickly move from confusion to problem solving it's complexity, you are remembering your own spirit and connecting to your own spirit. Once you have that feeling you want to find it again. We, the artists, give you opportunity to engage with your own spirit.So please don't come at me like I'm a brutish millionaire sucking the pennies from your pocket. I've somehow, through symbolism, packaged a piece of my spirit for you to consume.
Support a Native owned Etsy shop, Allies United, where I offer unique merch for allies of social justice movements, like MMIW, Native Lives Matter and Black Lives Matter. Take a look inside my Etsy shop here: etsy.com/shop/AlliesUnited.