Native Dance Now: Body and Spirit
By: Dance Usa Fellowships To Artists
Tags: Community, Native Americans, Dance, Indigenous, Decolonization

She spoke about the waves of settler colonialism that happened, east to west, in North America. Coming from a northeast tribe, she reflects on the treaty negotiations and interactions with the Dutch colonists: “Our diplomacy goes far back …. We have centuries of protocol. Seneca historically have been very intentional in not sharing sensitive information with outside people.”

This Haudenosaunee history sparks her activism. Simas tells me her creative process includes research into her culture and community. Her current work contemplates healing and grieving and is inspired by the philosophy of the Great Law of Peace, which brought together the Iroquois Confederacy. In 2019, she travelled back east to attend a reading of the Great Law. That physical act of being present greatly affected her new work.

For many Indigenous artists, creative discipline derives from a deep-seated commitment to their cultures and communities.

Simas is Haudenosaunee, Seneca, Heron clan. She grew up dancing around a drum, stating, “The living architecture of my body is formed by movements deeply connected to the earth. Culture, history, and identity stored in my body are the underpinning of all my work.” Photo: Tim Rummelhoff

Simas is uninterested in commodifying her work to imbue learning or pure consumption so that funders, presenters, or audiences can check off a “Native box.” She creates intentional environments and hopes audiences will commit to being in that space together, even if they don’t quite understand what they are experiencing. Her performances often include movement, sculpture, sound, and film, and intermingle performance with audiences, both indoors and outdoors. The 2019 piece WEave:HERE was a 60-minute processional performance that traversed two blocks down the Native Cultural Corridor in Minneapolis into installations by Ojibwe artists Heid E. Erdrich and Jonathan Thunder.

Her work provokes viewers to pay attention, a rarity in these times. As a practicing meditator, I would describe it as being coaxed into a Zen-like state or Native mindset that is not driven by western concepts of time. This shift in sensory perception lets one’s senses intermingle — hearing the movement, seeing the sound, feeling the story.

QACUNG YUFRICAN

In some Native cultures dance can be playful and humorous. Yufrican spoke about one of his favorite dances and songs, called “Anguwartugalria,” which translates to “I am paddling.” It’s about a seal hunt and is meant to make people laugh. Taught to him by Benny Snowball, his first drum and dance teacher, this simple children’s song and dance encourages improvisation, allowing the performers to inject their own personality. Some of Qacung’s favorite moments and memories when creating and performing new work encourage spontaneity and humor: “If you can make each other [drummers and dancers] lose it, have them break their performance role, that is gold.” Getting someone to laugh provides a candid glimpse into Yup’ik culture. “It is beautiful when we can show that humor, share our love of laughter.”

From the Yukon/Kuskokwim River Delta region of southwestern Alaska, Qacung works in Yuraq, an Indigenous dance practice of the Yup’ik. He creates traditional dances with contemporary masks and movement. He is also cofounder of Pamyua, described as an Inuit fusion band. Photo: Andre Horton

Joe Chief Jr., from Qacung’s hometown, was a well-known dancer influencing him on his preferred style of dance and performance. Qacung had never seen someone so energetic and full of joyous life; Joe Chief Jr. was the master of facial expression and a comedic, stylized type of dance that mimics Alaskan traditional masks. As an accomplished dancer, Qacung exudes energy, excitement, and good feelings, much like Duncan, and, of course, his mentor Joe Chief Jr. After all, Qacung’s goal is to make people happy.

He discusses how the impacts of colonization cause cultural shame, intolerance, and racial inequities. He believes we need to begin with the youth to instill pride. A story about his maternal grandma powerfully demonstrates that healing can come at any age. His mother was a traditional dancer, but his grandmother refused to watch her daughter dance because, based on influences of missionaries, she thought the dances were evil. Many Natives of that generation held those beliefs and almost every Native person can cite a similar experience within their family. When his grandmother lived in a senior center, people would ask about her dancing family members, but she wouldn’t discuss the topic. Yet after hearing so much about her grandson’s performances, she decided to see him dance. Qacung and his brother arranged for a performance at the Camai Dance Festival and got her a spot right up front. As they began dancing, the look of disapproval on her face softened. By the end, she was completely smiling and even dancing! Qacung shared how gratifying it was to see her change. Soon after, his grandmother told him, “I can see that what you do is not evil. You make people happy; you make people smile.” She gave him her blessing.