Post by blackcrowheart on Jun 13, 2007 15:10:58 GMT -5
Cochiti artist pushes pueblo tradition Sadie Jo Smokey
The Arizona Republic
The ceramic priest wearing a cross, black robes and fishnet stockings doesn't have a name. But the sculpture, made a few years ago during the height of the pedophilia scandal in the Catholic Church, is a continuation of an art style more than 100 years old.
For 20 years, Virgil Ortiz, 37, a Cochiti Pueblo artist from New Mexico, has pushed envelopes with his art. His goal: to push open doors for other American Indian artists who want creative control over their work.
"A lot of the Native artists had to do what would sell, with someone telling them, 'Create this many pots and figures and make them look like this,' " Ortiz said. "But I've been getting into galleries that didn't dictate what the pottery looked like. I've been getting other Native American artists into those galleries, which is awesome as hell. I'm pushing it in a way that hasn't been done before. It opens contemporary-art opportunities for other generations." advertisement OAS_AD('ArticleFlex_1')
Ortiz, who will be in the Valley for three events next month, isn't concerned that his pots and figurative pottery will offend people. Although the contemporary pieces sometimes embrace a counterculture lifestyle - bondage masks, tattoos, pierced tongues or pierced nipples - Ortiz works in a traditional way. He gathers clay from a pit on the pueblo that has been in use since his grandmother's youth. He makes dye from wild spinach. He fires his pieces using cedar and aspen wood in a pit surrounded by chicken wire and cow pies. Each creation takes about three weeks to make. Each show features a dozen or so pieces.
"I'm reviving what was there before," Ortiz said of his standing figurines. "They've been a lot more edgy in the past. I've seen pieces from the 1800s that are really sexual and right in your face. I haven't gotten to that point yet. I don't know that I will. But I'm going to be racy. I'm part of the timeline. The only thing that changes is time in the pueblos. The methods and materials are exactly the same."
In the late 1800s Ortiz's tribe developed a style of ceramic sculpture that resembled the non-Native people of Santa Fe. During a forced conversion to Christianity, the caricatures of circus freaks, prostitutes and scallywags were considered "false idols" and were broken and replaced with Catholic statues.
"When the Catholic priests were caught molesting kids, I commented with the clay," Ortiz said. "My goal with (my) pieces is to give voice to those broken pieces. I don't name the pottery. Whoever purchases the piece can call it whatever they want to."
Traditional approach Ortiz has lived on the pueblo, roughly 40 minutes from Santa Fe and an hour from Albuquerque, his entire life. He works with the native-language program and started the Ortiz Light House Foundation. With his pottery money, Ortiz built a 4,000-square-foot gallery-studio on the pueblo where he hopes to mentor and encourage youth to learn the native tongue, traditional ways and arts. He hopes to make computer games and animated movies with superheroes to help preserve and teach the language.
Making pottery is a long process, requiring creative vision and patience, skills that can't be taught in a weekend workshop. Ortiz soaks, chops and mixes his clay. Each piece, made from a coiling method, is scraped and sanded, and then covered with eight or nine layers of milky white slip.
Every step has risks - cracks if a piece dries unevenly, explosions in the outdoor fire pit if the clay has air bubbles or curious children leaving their mark.
"I have 20 nieces and nephews who will come by and leave a smudge of a fingerprint," Ortiz said. "They know they're not supposed to touch it, but it's a big temptation."
A foot in the door
By teaching youth on his pueblo to embrace their artistic side and learn the business side, the next generation of Cochiti Pueblo artists will be self-sustaining, with a foot in the gallery door. Much the way Ortiz had his foot in the door. His mother, Seferina Ortiz, is a well-known, respected and collected Cochiti Pueblo artist.
"When I was way younger, my mom gave us clay," Ortiz said. "My mom has some pieces I made when I was 6 years old. I remember I started trying to sell to galleries when I was 16 or 17 years old. My mom had a base of admirers, luckily they saw me working and they started buying my things."
At his March 22 event at Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, Ortiz, who collaborated with fashion empress Donna Karan in 2003, wants to attract a larger audience to his line of T-shirts, handbags, couture clothing and jewelry.
"When the Donna Karan line came out, I was able to educate people who didn't have a clue what Indian pottery was," Ortiz said. "I do pottery to support the manufacturing of the clothing. They support each other. It was all brought to reality through the pottery money. It gives me a chance to touch more people."
Reach the reporter at sadiejo .smokey@arizonarepublic.com
The Arizona Republic
The ceramic priest wearing a cross, black robes and fishnet stockings doesn't have a name. But the sculpture, made a few years ago during the height of the pedophilia scandal in the Catholic Church, is a continuation of an art style more than 100 years old.
For 20 years, Virgil Ortiz, 37, a Cochiti Pueblo artist from New Mexico, has pushed envelopes with his art. His goal: to push open doors for other American Indian artists who want creative control over their work.
"A lot of the Native artists had to do what would sell, with someone telling them, 'Create this many pots and figures and make them look like this,' " Ortiz said. "But I've been getting into galleries that didn't dictate what the pottery looked like. I've been getting other Native American artists into those galleries, which is awesome as hell. I'm pushing it in a way that hasn't been done before. It opens contemporary-art opportunities for other generations." advertisement OAS_AD('ArticleFlex_1')
Ortiz, who will be in the Valley for three events next month, isn't concerned that his pots and figurative pottery will offend people. Although the contemporary pieces sometimes embrace a counterculture lifestyle - bondage masks, tattoos, pierced tongues or pierced nipples - Ortiz works in a traditional way. He gathers clay from a pit on the pueblo that has been in use since his grandmother's youth. He makes dye from wild spinach. He fires his pieces using cedar and aspen wood in a pit surrounded by chicken wire and cow pies. Each creation takes about three weeks to make. Each show features a dozen or so pieces.
"I'm reviving what was there before," Ortiz said of his standing figurines. "They've been a lot more edgy in the past. I've seen pieces from the 1800s that are really sexual and right in your face. I haven't gotten to that point yet. I don't know that I will. But I'm going to be racy. I'm part of the timeline. The only thing that changes is time in the pueblos. The methods and materials are exactly the same."
In the late 1800s Ortiz's tribe developed a style of ceramic sculpture that resembled the non-Native people of Santa Fe. During a forced conversion to Christianity, the caricatures of circus freaks, prostitutes and scallywags were considered "false idols" and were broken and replaced with Catholic statues.
"When the Catholic priests were caught molesting kids, I commented with the clay," Ortiz said. "My goal with (my) pieces is to give voice to those broken pieces. I don't name the pottery. Whoever purchases the piece can call it whatever they want to."
Traditional approach Ortiz has lived on the pueblo, roughly 40 minutes from Santa Fe and an hour from Albuquerque, his entire life. He works with the native-language program and started the Ortiz Light House Foundation. With his pottery money, Ortiz built a 4,000-square-foot gallery-studio on the pueblo where he hopes to mentor and encourage youth to learn the native tongue, traditional ways and arts. He hopes to make computer games and animated movies with superheroes to help preserve and teach the language.
Making pottery is a long process, requiring creative vision and patience, skills that can't be taught in a weekend workshop. Ortiz soaks, chops and mixes his clay. Each piece, made from a coiling method, is scraped and sanded, and then covered with eight or nine layers of milky white slip.
Every step has risks - cracks if a piece dries unevenly, explosions in the outdoor fire pit if the clay has air bubbles or curious children leaving their mark.
"I have 20 nieces and nephews who will come by and leave a smudge of a fingerprint," Ortiz said. "They know they're not supposed to touch it, but it's a big temptation."
A foot in the door
By teaching youth on his pueblo to embrace their artistic side and learn the business side, the next generation of Cochiti Pueblo artists will be self-sustaining, with a foot in the gallery door. Much the way Ortiz had his foot in the door. His mother, Seferina Ortiz, is a well-known, respected and collected Cochiti Pueblo artist.
"When I was way younger, my mom gave us clay," Ortiz said. "My mom has some pieces I made when I was 6 years old. I remember I started trying to sell to galleries when I was 16 or 17 years old. My mom had a base of admirers, luckily they saw me working and they started buying my things."
At his March 22 event at Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, Ortiz, who collaborated with fashion empress Donna Karan in 2003, wants to attract a larger audience to his line of T-shirts, handbags, couture clothing and jewelry.
"When the Donna Karan line came out, I was able to educate people who didn't have a clue what Indian pottery was," Ortiz said. "I do pottery to support the manufacturing of the clothing. They support each other. It was all brought to reality through the pottery money. It gives me a chance to touch more people."
Reach the reporter at sadiejo .smokey@arizonarepublic.com