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207 text-messaging Prayers: George longfish and His art of communication mOllY mcGlennen i first met George longfish in 2000 when i was a graduate student at the university of california, davis’s Ph.d. program in native american studies. He had been at that time a professor there for over twenty-five years, and i was researching my way through the field of native american literature—in particular, contemporary indigenous poets—and writing my own poetry. We came together because of an independent study; i wanted to learn more about contemporary native art, and longfish’s art specifically, because of his use of text in certain pieces, and the way his work and others (like Jaune Quick-to-see smith and edgar Heap of Birds), like a strong pair of eyes, would not let me ignore it. my initial, provincial understanding of longfish’s pieces entailed a gut response to the confrontation his art produced, as if he were putting issues in-yourface and, oddly, in-your-ear. However, i would later discover that the text that longfish spreads across his canvases are snippets of conversation, are moments of dialogue that create a verbal landscape—“something for the viewer,” he says, “to hang on to.”1 in our meetings together, we talked about his use of text in his work, why he chose to do so, and how i related my understanding of native poetry to the “verse” i saw on his canvasses. like poetry, his lines of text tell a story, identify him as the artist (like a graffiti tag or a signature), and ultimately function as moments of resistance and agency. and like poetry floating on a bed of lines, images, and color, the text opens up a moment and a space for a listener. it is that space that hangs around the words—a space of meditation , of quiet, of clarity, he would later tell me—that opens up another level 208| Molly McGlennen to the painting; it is that which makes the connection between the past and the present.2 in 2003, i was commissioned by the national museum of the american indian to write a short exposition of longfish’s body of work, which would be part of an exhibit at the museum entitled continuum 12 artists. Because it serves as a basis for my understanding of longfish’s work, i want to include that small piece here as a way to introduce the artist’s use of text in his images; from there, i will elaborate on this analysis by showing how his messaging works as a form of communion with the viewer in a way that both acknowledges the sacred origins of indigenous creative expression and provides an avenue toward personal and communal autonomy. in this respect, the communication that is shared between the artist and viewer, through the medium of artistic expression, acts as a declaration of artistic sovereignty complicating and debunking the often romanticized and stereotypical imagery that depicts contemporary native american life. disPlacinG tHe lies it is with spirit that George longfish enters the creative act, and it is with spirit that he is guided through and beyond it.3 as he steps into a painting, he and the work create dialogue, a space mutually respectful and adaptable. during his initial attempts at drawing the Pawnee chief Pitaresaru (man chief), who would eventually occupy the third panel of his distinguished triptych The End of Innocence (1993), longfish was frustrated by his inability to re-create him. longfish saw that something was awry: “the painting was guiding me as much as i was guiding it; my original idea was drastically changing as i tried to begin.”4 this flexibility, ironically, enabled longfish to meditate and readjust. He saw what he had taken for granted: longfish had not asked for permission to draw him.5 longfish honored Pitaresaru and said hello to his spirit, and the chief then agreed to take the first step. in three days, longfish had finished the drawing. longfish has often asserted that native people must own their cultural knowledge: “the more we are able to own our religious, spiritual, and survival information, and even language, the less we can be controlled. . . . the greatest lesson we can learn is that we can bring our spirituality and warrior information from the past and use it in the present and see that it still works.”6 this compression of history and present reality subverts linear constructs of time and...

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