Several years ago, I came back from a little time off to
find Barry extremely excited about something that had arrived at
the trading post during my absence. As he led me into his office in
anticipation of disclosing this latest development, he was visibly affected. As
I entered the room, I noticed him reaching up to retrieve this most recent
artistic creation from the back of his high shelf.
Approximately 30 years ago, I returned to the trading post business
"for just two or three years." Back then, I questioned whether I
could actually survive in Bluff. After I overcame my initial jitters, I found
small town life agreed with me and that I was immensely interested in how the
art that found its way into Twin Rocks evolved. Navajo
basketry was just beginning to flower, so it was a fascinating time. I
even thought about writing a book called The Evolution of the . . . .
Since I couldn't find the right word to rhyme with Species, however, my project
never got off the ground.
Barry read a great deal of Navajo mythology at that time and had developed a few concepts he wanted to implement. He and I have limited artistic capacity, so initially he sketched his circular designs using a compass and ruler. Although I felt the designs were a bit static, they began to catch on and with a little imagination from the weavers, some interesting basketry began to evolve.
Once we realized this design experiment might actually work, Barry hired Damian Jim, who at that time was a young man with big ideas that fit nicely with what we needed. Damian hitchhiked 30 miles to work each morning because he had no reliable transportation, and he had a good graphic sense and computer experience that far exceeded anything Barry and I had, or have ever been able to develop.
Back then, the latest installment of Greg Schaff's American Indian series had just emerged. The book showcased Native American basketry and had a large section on Navajo weaving; I was pleased to see several of Barry and Damian's early designs represented. Many of the baskets featuring their motifs were submitted by other collectors and traders---which told me the designs had gone mainstream.
Damian spent several years with us designing and encouraging us to embrace the Internet. I can still see the frustration on Damian's face when we asked him a silly question about the Web or requested a design he thought was ridiculous. At times, the substantial investment in time and money seemed unmerited, even foolish. I clearly remember one of our best trading buddies, Jacque Foutz, relating a story about how her father-in-law traded in ceremonial baskets. Jacque became interested in writing a book about Navajo basketry and began her research by talking with Russell Foutz. When asked about his experience with baskets, Russell, one of the true old-time traders, said, "Jacque, I bought them, I sold them; they were like cans of beans to me." Needless to say, she was deflated by her father-in-law's lack of passion.
Since Russell had been a successful trader, I often questioned whether Barry and I were on the right track. But then somebody would bring in a truly great work that was like nothing we had ever seen, and I would become convinced anew that we were doing something worthwhile. A few months later, however, when we noticed other people carrying similar items, our enthusiasm would ebb. This caused me to remember a flock of crows hopping around behind Twin Rocks Cafe. One of them had found a crouton and was carrying it around in his mouth. Once the other birds realized what he had, they all converged, trying to get a piece of his treasure. Barry and I have often felt like that crow with the crouton, trying to protect the gems we discovered, but knowing all along we had to let them go so things would be better for the flock. Letting go, however, can be difficult.
Barry read a great deal of Navajo mythology at that time and had developed a few concepts he wanted to implement. He and I have limited artistic capacity, so initially he sketched his circular designs using a compass and ruler. Although I felt the designs were a bit static, they began to catch on and with a little imagination from the weavers, some interesting basketry began to evolve.
Once we realized this design experiment might actually work, Barry hired Damian Jim, who at that time was a young man with big ideas that fit nicely with what we needed. Damian hitchhiked 30 miles to work each morning because he had no reliable transportation, and he had a good graphic sense and computer experience that far exceeded anything Barry and I had, or have ever been able to develop.
Back then, the latest installment of Greg Schaff's American Indian series had just emerged. The book showcased Native American basketry and had a large section on Navajo weaving; I was pleased to see several of Barry and Damian's early designs represented. Many of the baskets featuring their motifs were submitted by other collectors and traders---which told me the designs had gone mainstream.
Damian spent several years with us designing and encouraging us to embrace the Internet. I can still see the frustration on Damian's face when we asked him a silly question about the Web or requested a design he thought was ridiculous. At times, the substantial investment in time and money seemed unmerited, even foolish. I clearly remember one of our best trading buddies, Jacque Foutz, relating a story about how her father-in-law traded in ceremonial baskets. Jacque became interested in writing a book about Navajo basketry and began her research by talking with Russell Foutz. When asked about his experience with baskets, Russell, one of the true old-time traders, said, "Jacque, I bought them, I sold them; they were like cans of beans to me." Needless to say, she was deflated by her father-in-law's lack of passion.
Since Russell had been a successful trader, I often questioned whether Barry and I were on the right track. But then somebody would bring in a truly great work that was like nothing we had ever seen, and I would become convinced anew that we were doing something worthwhile. A few months later, however, when we noticed other people carrying similar items, our enthusiasm would ebb. This caused me to remember a flock of crows hopping around behind Twin Rocks Cafe. One of them had found a crouton and was carrying it around in his mouth. Once the other birds realized what he had, they all converged, trying to get a piece of his treasure. Barry and I have often felt like that crow with the crouton, trying to protect the gems we discovered, but knowing all along we had to let them go so things would be better for the flock. Letting go, however, can be difficult.
As Barry reached for the gems hidden on his top shelf, he said, "You gotta see these carvings." My mind immediately flashed back to a SpongeBob figure Ray Lansing, an artist who was being mentored by Marvin Jim, had carved a while back. Ray is a talented carver, but SpongeBob was an enormous emotional stretch for me. Barry on the other hand felt a kinship with SpongeBob and believed we needed to purchase the carving to “keep things going." I thought it was Barry's affinity to the cartoon character more than his love of the art, but I was compelled to give in. "Besides," Barry said, "how can you dislike a guy who lives in a Bikini Bottom?" I had to admit he had a valid point.
Much to my surprise, SpongeBob Rez Pants was a hit, and I was reminded that setting the artists free to create on their own terms and believing in them, even when SpongeBobs are the result, is an important part of our business. When Barry revealed the four Yei rattles Marvin had newly carved, I realized how far Marvin had come with just a little encouragement and thought, "Well, I guess you have to go through a few SpongeBobs to get to the Yeis."
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