Chris Pappan: Fire, Transformation, and Duality

From Flagstaff, Arizona; lives, works in Chicago
Curated for phICA by Julia Fournier
Opened October 15, 2021 in conjunction with Phoenix Third Friday

Exhibition Curator Text

My ex-husband and I owned a building on 16th Street in Phoenix called The Hive. We had space set aside for a gallery and community space. From 2010 until February of 2020 when Covid shut us down, we exhibited the work of a different artist or group each month from September through June…. close to 100 shows in all.

Having never been gallerists before, we showed the work of artists who walked in the door, and we were grateful for that. Consequently, most of the artists shown at The Hive in the beginning were creatives local to the area…many were street artists looking for a first-time gallery opportunity and almost all were white and male. When I realized this and made a concentrated effort to seek out the work of women and people of diversity, that dynamic changed.

One artist, Thomas Breeze Marcus (Akimel, Tohono O’odham), had a studio for a couple years in our building and began a tradition of curating a group show at The Hive that ran concurrently with the Heard Museum Indian Fair and Market. His intent was to give alternative wall space to young Native artists whose work was not yet recognized or legitimized by The Heard, one of the Southwest’s preeminent institutions for the showcasing of “American Indian” art and culture.

It was at this show, Multi-verse in February 2014 that I saw the work of Chris Pappan (Kanza/Osage, Lakota) for the first time. I was drawn immediately and initially to the compelling images that were at once startling and seductive. The soft round pencil feel and the contrasting bright color accents mixed with familiar images in unfamiliar contexts were magnetic. Some of the images looked as if they were springing from the wall and then, underneath it all, the ledger book paper. I knew a bit about traditional ledger book art and strained to see the old cursive writing on pages of the old, repurposed accounting and record books. I was fascinated by the effect the work had on me. It signaled me to stay back and come closer at the same time.

I have never met Chris but enjoyed working with him during that show. One of his works was purchased by the North American Native Museum in Zurich, Switzerland, a first for The Hive, but not for Chris, and he guided me a bit through the process

I am not an academic scholar of art. I cannot put into context the work of one creative with the rest of art history. I do not know, I cannot pretend to know or understand with any depth, the artwork of another anymore than I can know or understand their lived life.

I do believe that an artist conveys their essence through their work. I came to know this because I made a habit of walking through a show with the artist before an opening, asking them to tell me the story of their art.

As a result of that experience, I came to understand that the work of Native artists I have known portray not just a personal, but also a collective essence in all its many facets: tragedy, rage and loss as well as freedom, beauty, strength and endurance; their own lives and their ancestry. Words do not, cannot express this essence.

I read a book once that suggested that an historic event such as The Holocaust was so singular and so incomprehensible that we should create new vocabulary in order to discuss it.

In this country, multiple genocides have occurred, and they are ongoing. The majority of Americans are only at the surface level of recognition or even acknowledgment.

Take a good look at this show, please. Read the text written by Chris about his work, then look again.

Maybe just take a few minutes to look closely and carefully at the contour, layer, and detail of one piece a second time.

If you really want to dive deeper into our shared American history, I might suggest taking a break from Hamilton back slapping and look at some Indigenous art.

It is lush and profound. It is the story, it is protest, it is outrage.
It might be the best language with which to convey atrocity.

-Julia Fournier, phICA Guest Curator
October 2021

Exhibited Artworks

FIRE / INVASION

The trailer is a symbol of freedom for some; being able to travel on a whim or to move with the seasons is a privilege in today’s world.  In the Native American context I see the trailer as a symbol of poverty and oppression.  An economical but cramped alternative to shelter in a harsh environment, but also a symbol of non-permanence.  The trailer is also symbolic of Native people being forced to accept a lower standard for themselves and conditioning communities and individuals to accept inadequacies as the norm.  The freedom we once had has been appropriated by the privileged, whilst the names of these mobile shelters mock our people as they pass by: Winnebago, Warrior, Cherokee, Sundance etc.  With the symbolic burning of this idea we demand a higher standard for our communities, children and ourselves.  The burning is also reinterpreting the stereotype or myth of the smoke signal into a narrative of self-determination and agency.  The UFO’s are of course an invading force, bringing about an apocalypse.  Some of our ancestors had strength and foresight for us to prevail but our survival today was not without great sacrifice.

DUALITY / MULTIPLICITY

Born out of a “happy accident”. This motif has taken on a multitude of meanings in my work over the years.  Obviously it could be taken as one living between two worlds, but I think on a deeper level it relates more to the viewer's perspective: is it someone pulling themselves apart to fit into a construct or is it the bonding of 2 ideas to become something new?  I prefer the latter, but that’s my perspective.  A newer variation on this theme is the fracturing of a single image as seen in Quantum 1 and 2. Individual parts making up the entirety, with each part having its own characteristics yet vital to the greater overall image.

TRANSFORMATION

The transformational figures seek the reclamation of our humanity.  Specifically, the series titled …Of White Bread and Miracles… serves as a response to the Boy Scout tradition of misappropriating sacred Native American practices, and in this case for a “hobby”. The figures are from a manual titled “Here Is Your Hobby…Indian Dancing and Costumes''. The book is an example of cognitive dissonance as it erases any vestiges of contemporary Native people and homogenizes all Native American cultures while making casual remarks such as “…get a local Indian to teach you singing and dancing if you can…”. By appropriating the figures from the book and re-contextualizing them I am introducing the power of dance for our people; that dance is not merely a hobby, it is a sacred form of prayer and sacrifice that has deep and varying roots and meaning for Native people everywhere. These works also deal with the idea of innocence (lost) and institutionalized racism. To interject the static poses that are meant to teach movement with elements of spirituality, authenticity, and contemporary aspects I am reclaiming that which has been erased.

The figures are also symbolic of the importance of indigenous narratives that speak to truth and self-reflection. The figures in these works are more than transforming physically, they are symbolic of a shift of self-narratives; from one of outside influence (white male anthropological gaze) to a first voice perspective.  The modern context of these figures provides a sense of empowerment and reaffirms the humanity inherent in Native American cultures, a humanity that is still trying to be erased.

Share Your Thoughts