It seems I will be spending my winter months thinking about Alaska again, for I'll have the pleasure of illustrating a picture book by Deb Vanasse. The book is titled Lucy's Dance, and will be published by the University of Alaska Press in Spring of 2011. I will post scraps of my illustration and the research behind them, trying not to muddle the cultural details too awfully. Mind you, I'm only giving you the chocolate coating of the story. You haven't seen the last of the snail fallacies, but they may enter hibernation for the winter.
Potlatch Raillery, Bingo Ladies Cracking Wise
Lucy's Dance deals with the fading tradition of the the potlatch celebrated by the Yup'ik people of western Alaska. The central character is a Yup'ik girl named Lucy who prods her village to resurrect the Curukaq (choo-ROO-gawk), or the Challenge Festival, also known as the Messenger Feast, or potlatch. Lucy's mother explains that the tradition is no longer recognized because it is "a lot of work." I am currently learning what an understatement this is. In order to inform my illustrations, I'm reading a book called Stebbins Dance Festival, which quotes directly from Yup'ik elders, and may be the definitive treatise on Curukaq.
When I was growing up in Alaska, I had a few brushes with native cultural exhibits and festivals, but never took a great interest. Maybe this was because native culture was often presented with an air of responsibility and reverence which, however appropriate in a post-colonial setting, made the native culture itself appear excessively serious compared to my world of Nintendo and Darkwing Duck. Among the greatest surprises I met while researching Curukaq are the levity and biting irony that color the festival. The Challenge Festival tradition began when one leader converted traditional warfare into a battle of wits, resourcefulness, and ability to get down. I quote directly:
Curukaq in particular began where interregional bow-and-arrow warfare left off. [. . .] The enemy said, "Let us stop fighting each other, but using these let us be antagonists through the dance!" [. . .] Instead of trying to harm each other, people should use their strength and ingenuity to increase their catch. If their catch was large enough, they should invite each other to the qasgi (communal room), using what they had caught to compete and have a festive occasion. The enemy agreed, and from that time on, warfare was terminated and people competed through dance. (xiii-xiv)
Curukaq is the "Challenge Festival" because it involves a battle of dancing and gift giving between two neighboring villages. When I hear the phrase "gift giving," I think of a fuzzy greeting card exchange without too much action. However, Curukaq was meant to be a full substitute for warfare. In order to successfully fill this role, the entire dancing and gift-giving process was infused with "images of conflict" (xiv).
The potlatch game went like this: a visiting guest village demanded gifts in advance, and the host village had to provide them at the festival. The guests could ask anything they wanted from the host village, and the village must supply it to demonstrate their capabilities. To up the stakes, the guests would request scarce and difficult gifts, such as hand-built kayaks. In fact, the guest village sent out secret researchers called kevgat to discover which game and resources would be most difficult to provide. After this research was complete, another set of messengers ordered the gifts months in advance of the festival. Because the demands were always so large, the host village received the emissaries with humorous hostility.
If the messengers were encountered on the trail by host villagers, they were often teased, pranked, or playfully attacked. When messengers reached the host village, they would steal in after sunset and leap dramatically into the qasqi "like an attacking war party." The messengers were always well accommodated within the host village, though the teasing continued, even from the women in the bingo hall, who liked to complain that their requests were interrupting their game (xvi). Of course, I'm barely touching on the intricate customs involved.
Discouragement of the potlatch festival by Catholic missionaries began in the late 1920s. I have heard mixed reasoning behind its opposition. Some passages say that missionaries thought the potlatch was religious and opposed it in the name of monotheism. One source says that a visiting Jesuit noticed that some villagers fell destitute after a round of extreme gift-giving, so one Fr. Lonneaux proposed a less expensive substitute ritual which, though well intended, overlooked many of Curukaq's most important functions (xxiv). The village of Stebbins experienced a revival of the potlatch in the 1970's, though from what I hear, it has again faded in recent years. Lucy's Dance is set in the present, when a handful of elders still remember Curukaq as an essential part of life.
Character Studies
I have mostly limited my drawings to heads and shoulders so that I don't have to address clothing yet. I'd like to do a bit more research as to how often women's qaspeqs are worn casually. When drawing the characters, I'm tempted to focus on traditional apparel. However, these characters are a mixture of contemporary and traditional--that's an important part of the story. For this reason, the brother wears a snow beanie, and Apa (Grandpa) a baseball cap.
I'm at odds about whether or not to include a bit of collage-style artwork in the illustrations. I thought it might add a bit of texture and depth. I gave it a shot in Illustrator, but quickly found that building people from blobs is a good deal harder than it looks. Barbara Lavalee seems to have pinned down a technique that pleases an audience, but I'm not sure that I think in a style that . . . baloonish. If the book dealt more with animals or objects, an all-collage approach might work, but with my current skill set, collage doesn't feel like the best approach for human character development.
After creating a few sketches, I backed up and realized that my drawings looked more like something from an adult graphic novel than from a kid's book. Gradually, I massaged the characters into simpler and simpler line drawings. I'm still considering working in some collage. Now that the faces are simpler, the sketches might create some shapes that I can back with textured swatches. When perusing some photos of Yup'ik women, I've noticed that many of them wear floral-print qaspeks. It might be interesting to work in some swatches of fabric prints if it doesn't overwhelm the page too much.
While I simplified the characters, my eye and hand worked to make the shapes cleaner and more controlled, minimizing the number of lines as is sometimes appropriate for a children's book. Then I confronted Apa's face, where I must create lines. I've been admiring the faces of Yup'ik elders in some photos, with their unique lines and symmetries. I decided to set Apa apart by inscribing his face with heavy lines that are organic, yet balanced.
Next week: setting studies for Lucy's Dance, and criminal justice with percussion.
Potlatch Raillery, Bingo Ladies Cracking Wise
Lucy's Dance deals with the fading tradition of the the potlatch celebrated by the Yup'ik people of western Alaska. The central character is a Yup'ik girl named Lucy who prods her village to resurrect the Curukaq (choo-ROO-gawk), or the Challenge Festival, also known as the Messenger Feast, or potlatch. Lucy's mother explains that the tradition is no longer recognized because it is "a lot of work." I am currently learning what an understatement this is. In order to inform my illustrations, I'm reading a book called Stebbins Dance Festival, which quotes directly from Yup'ik elders, and may be the definitive treatise on Curukaq.
When I was growing up in Alaska, I had a few brushes with native cultural exhibits and festivals, but never took a great interest. Maybe this was because native culture was often presented with an air of responsibility and reverence which, however appropriate in a post-colonial setting, made the native culture itself appear excessively serious compared to my world of Nintendo and Darkwing Duck. Among the greatest surprises I met while researching Curukaq are the levity and biting irony that color the festival. The Challenge Festival tradition began when one leader converted traditional warfare into a battle of wits, resourcefulness, and ability to get down. I quote directly:
Curukaq in particular began where interregional bow-and-arrow warfare left off. [. . .] The enemy said, "Let us stop fighting each other, but using these let us be antagonists through the dance!" [. . .] Instead of trying to harm each other, people should use their strength and ingenuity to increase their catch. If their catch was large enough, they should invite each other to the qasgi (communal room), using what they had caught to compete and have a festive occasion. The enemy agreed, and from that time on, warfare was terminated and people competed through dance. (xiii-xiv)
Curukaq is the "Challenge Festival" because it involves a battle of dancing and gift giving between two neighboring villages. When I hear the phrase "gift giving," I think of a fuzzy greeting card exchange without too much action. However, Curukaq was meant to be a full substitute for warfare. In order to successfully fill this role, the entire dancing and gift-giving process was infused with "images of conflict" (xiv).
The potlatch game went like this: a visiting guest village demanded gifts in advance, and the host village had to provide them at the festival. The guests could ask anything they wanted from the host village, and the village must supply it to demonstrate their capabilities. To up the stakes, the guests would request scarce and difficult gifts, such as hand-built kayaks. In fact, the guest village sent out secret researchers called kevgat to discover which game and resources would be most difficult to provide. After this research was complete, another set of messengers ordered the gifts months in advance of the festival. Because the demands were always so large, the host village received the emissaries with humorous hostility.
If the messengers were encountered on the trail by host villagers, they were often teased, pranked, or playfully attacked. When messengers reached the host village, they would steal in after sunset and leap dramatically into the qasqi "like an attacking war party." The messengers were always well accommodated within the host village, though the teasing continued, even from the women in the bingo hall, who liked to complain that their requests were interrupting their game (xvi). Of course, I'm barely touching on the intricate customs involved.
Discouragement of the potlatch festival by Catholic missionaries began in the late 1920s. I have heard mixed reasoning behind its opposition. Some passages say that missionaries thought the potlatch was religious and opposed it in the name of monotheism. One source says that a visiting Jesuit noticed that some villagers fell destitute after a round of extreme gift-giving, so one Fr. Lonneaux proposed a less expensive substitute ritual which, though well intended, overlooked many of Curukaq's most important functions (xxiv). The village of Stebbins experienced a revival of the potlatch in the 1970's, though from what I hear, it has again faded in recent years. Lucy's Dance is set in the present, when a handful of elders still remember Curukaq as an essential part of life.
Character Studies
I have mostly limited my drawings to heads and shoulders so that I don't have to address clothing yet. I'd like to do a bit more research as to how often women's qaspeqs are worn casually. When drawing the characters, I'm tempted to focus on traditional apparel. However, these characters are a mixture of contemporary and traditional--that's an important part of the story. For this reason, the brother wears a snow beanie, and Apa (Grandpa) a baseball cap.
I'm at odds about whether or not to include a bit of collage-style artwork in the illustrations. I thought it might add a bit of texture and depth. I gave it a shot in Illustrator, but quickly found that building people from blobs is a good deal harder than it looks. Barbara Lavalee seems to have pinned down a technique that pleases an audience, but I'm not sure that I think in a style that . . . baloonish. If the book dealt more with animals or objects, an all-collage approach might work, but with my current skill set, collage doesn't feel like the best approach for human character development.
After creating a few sketches, I backed up and realized that my drawings looked more like something from an adult graphic novel than from a kid's book. Gradually, I massaged the characters into simpler and simpler line drawings. I'm still considering working in some collage. Now that the faces are simpler, the sketches might create some shapes that I can back with textured swatches. When perusing some photos of Yup'ik women, I've noticed that many of them wear floral-print qaspeks. It might be interesting to work in some swatches of fabric prints if it doesn't overwhelm the page too much.
While I simplified the characters, my eye and hand worked to make the shapes cleaner and more controlled, minimizing the number of lines as is sometimes appropriate for a children's book. Then I confronted Apa's face, where I must create lines. I've been admiring the faces of Yup'ik elders in some photos, with their unique lines and symmetries. I decided to set Apa apart by inscribing his face with heavy lines that are organic, yet balanced.
Next week: setting studies for Lucy's Dance, and criminal justice with percussion.
I love where you're going with these, especially Lucy, whose can-do attitude shows in her face. I'm hoping some students from Stebbins will have some comments as well.
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