Book review: History of totem pole is a story of near-death and rebirth of an art form

'The Totem Pole: An Intercultural History'

by Aldona Jonaitis and Aaron Glass

University of Washington Press, 331 pp., $50

BOOK REVIEW |

"The totem pole," Aldona Jonaitis and Aaron Glass write at the start of their new book, "is not all things to all people."

That may be an understatement.

In "The Totem Pole: An Intercultural History," Jonaitis and Glass trace the permutations of form and perception this iconic form of Northwest Coast art has undergone over the last 200-odd years. They weigh questions of authenticity, misinterpretation, appropriation, denigration and, ultimately, transformation at the hands of contemporary Native artists.

"The Totem Pole: An Intercultural History" largely steers clear of academic jargon, tackling its subject from all angles — poles' origins as literal pillars of their community, broadcasting the background and status of their owners; their spread across the whole North American continent as tourist and advertising kitsch; their decades of being viewed by outsiders chiefly in an anthropological light; their emergence as a fine-arts form open to innovation in the hands of both Native and non-Native artists.

Jonaitis and Glass do a thorough job of sketching the historical backdrop to all this. The first visual record of "house posts that depicted anthropomorphic beings" dates from the 1778 voyage of Capt. James Cook. These weren't free-standing poles but support pillars in a large cedar-plank house on the west coast of Vancouver Island. In 1789, Capt. John Meares became the first European to make note of a free-standing pole on Haida Gwaii (the Queen Charlotte Islands), the art form's most likely place of origin.

For Northwest Coast tribes, the influx of wealth brought by trade in sea-otter pelts with visiting Europeans "meant more opportunities to publicly exhibit status in the form of monumental art," the authors say. But with the decline in the sea-otter population, deadly incursions of disease and a growing settler population hostile toward the indigenous residents, Northwest Coast culture came under severe strain.

For some tribes, conversion to Christianity meant "destroying clan paraphernalia," including totem poles. For others, carving poles — with clan histories encoded in them — became a form of protest. An 1884 Canadian law prohibiting the potlatch ceremonies integral to the raising of totem poles further repressed traditions.

Around this time, totem poles, in the eyes of some outsiders, began to change from "horrid sculptings" to objects of anthropological interest: the last edifices of a dying society, and therefore in need of rescue. As the authors tartly comment, "The Northwest Coast manifestation of the Colonial Paradox — in which becoming civilized is good, but losing traditional culture is bad — especially bemoaned the decline of totem pole carving and the deterioration of existing poles."

Canadian artists went so far as to see Northwest Coast art as the source for an emerging Canadian aesthetic. In Vancouver, B.C., Victoria, Sitka, Juneau and Seattle — all places that had no totem poles until the 20th century — totem poles became proudly displayed civic emblems. (Jonaitis and Glass have quite a tale to tell about how Seattle acquired its famous Pioneer Square pole from an "abandoned village" in Alaska.)

Removed to museums, world's fairs and urban public squares, totem poles ended up "connected neither to community nor clan." As demand for totem-pole souvenirs rose, vendors pulled out all the stops. Seattle's Ye Olde Curiosity Shop imported native carvers to do work on site — and when that couldn't meet demand, they turned to Japan. Totem-pole imagery turned up in ads, corporate logos, films and theme parks. Totem poles, it seemed, were everywhere, often in a debased and crudely carved format.

So how did the art form revive?

Jonaitis and Glass see the 1960s as the turning point. Northwest Coast tribes began to assert their land rights, with claims partly based on totem-pole records with their family crests. Government-supported preservation projects gave young carvers — including Bill Reid, who became a world-renowned artist — a chance to hone their craft.

Kwakwaka'wakw artist Ellen Neel took another route. Her souvenir carving led in 1950 to a commission to create a "Totemland Pole" as the "official emblem" of British Columbia. In it, she slipped Western content — a globe supported by an Atlas-like figure — into a Northwest Coast format, suggesting a precarious balance between the two.

By the last decades of the 20th century, an entire "Northwest Coast art world" had emerged: "a social network of artists, patrons, educators, critics, dealers, institutions, and clients [facilitating] the production, circulation, and critical reception of material valued as 'art.' "

The book includes 27 mini-essays by scholars and artists — among them, Preston Singletary and Bill Holm, author of the highly influential "Northwest Coast Indian Art: An Analysis of Form." Especially moving is Phil Nuytten's tribute to Neel, whose supposed "tourist wall mask" of dzunuk'wa (female Bigfoot) he sees as a true work of art.

The range and depth of this handsomely illustrated book should make it the definitive study of the totem pole ... that is, until artists push this living tradition in yet another unforeseen direction.

Michael Upchurch: mupchurch@seattletimes.com