Because of tiny tags tucked inside several pieces of the collection, I can identify not only the origin but also the artisan whose skill is so evident in the finished product. With a bit of research, I learn that longleaf pine needles form the basis for the intricate weaving.
The individual items have been scattered around my house for the last thirty-three years. They are a legacy, sorrowful in its making. I look at them in pairs or singularly and sense an invisible affinity. They were his, now they're mine. At some future date, they'll be hers. A portion of our family heritage, so far removed from their genesis.
The Coushatta tribe of Louisiana is a Sovereign Nation of approximately 875 members. Their home is in southwestern Louisiana. Basket weaving is an important part of the tribe's cultural life. Though originally designed for utilitarian uses or trading purposes, today the baskets are considered works of art. An important collection is on permanent display at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C.
No matter how long I ponder the path of the baskets to my brother's house, I have no anecdotes to lead me in the right direction. It's possible that he was involved in mounting an exhibition of baskets when he worked at the Historic New Orleans Collection in the French Quarter. Perhaps he became so enamored of the basketweavers' complex craft that he began to assemble examples of their work.
Today I visited the local Agua Caliente Cultural Museum. An expert was available to examine Native American baskets, though no appraisals would be provided. With my collection of eight items safely stored in a large bag, I anxiously awaited his comments.
In retrospect, I didn't learn much. Mr. Salk immediately identified the pattern woven into several of the pieces as being the 'wheat stitch.' Looking at the weave carefully, I can see the resemblance. Both he and the director of the museum were fascinated by the turkey basket. It was deemed to be rare and of museum quality. The small tag inside that particular basket contains the price which Brother must have paid for it, $21.50. A basket bargain.
I had reluctantly included a shallow basket although I wasn't sure it was of Native American origin or had perhaps come from Target or some similar store. I'm glad I took it along because it was identified as definitely being of Hopi origin. The basket mystery becomes even more confounding. How did my brother acquire a Native American basket originating in Arizona?
My house in the Southern California desert is best described as eclectic. Old things mingle with the new. Family history, mine and Henry's, is evident in furniture, photos, silverware, and dishes. I am comforted by these possessions and prefer to see and/or utilize them regularly. I strive to remember the lives of those who owned each piece.
Perhaps the most precious for me is that which once resided with dear Brother in New Orleans. As long as those things exist, he remains close to me. Maybe his spirit seeps out from a basket now and then and intuits that it's still with family. Solace in these surroundings.
These are so familiar--my grandmother has several throughout her house. She has one pretty similar to the duck. I agree that the turkey is quite special!
ReplyDeleteGlad you have a family connection to these baskets. There were more in the collection but my mother disbursed them. I'm happy with the remaining pieces.
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