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Who shall remain nameless?makers and collectors in MOA’s Nuu-chah-nulth basketry collection Garvey, Charlene 1993

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WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS?Makers and Collectors in MOA’S Nuu—chah--nulth Basketry CollectionbyCHARLENE GARVEYB.A., The University of British Columbia, 1987A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFMASTERS OF ARTSinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIESDepartment of Anthropology and SociologyWe accept this thesis as conformingto the required standardTHE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIADecember 1993© Charlene Garvey, 1993In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanceddegree at the University of British Columbia, agree that the Library shall make itfreely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensivecopying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of mydepartment or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying orpublication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my writtenpermission.(Signature)Department of Anthropology & SociologyThe University of British ColumbiaVancouver, CanadaDate December 20. 1993DE-6 (2/88)ABSTRACTThis thesis grew out of a close examination of the UBC Museum ofAnthropology Nuu-chah-nulth basketry collection and the relatedinformation about it held by the Museum. While examining theMuseum’s documentation of this collection it became evident thatthe Museum had records of the names of most of the collectors ofthese baskets but the Museum had few records which identified themakers of the baskets. This paper examines the documentssurrounding the Nuu-chah-nulth basketry collection as artifacts intheir own right. It explores why certain forms of information (inthis case the names of the collectors) became associated with agroup of objects while other forms of information (the names of themakers) were not. It suggests that the ideological frameworksreflected in the colonial foundations of both private and museumcollecting and the interpenetrating categories of “Primitive Art”,“Tourist Art” and “Women’s Arts”/”Crafts” have produced a system ofvalues whereby certain objects and forms of information were deemedto be of greater importance than others. It concludes that theincreasing number of makers who are being identified in recentyears at this Museum signals shifts in the above mentionedcategories as they are criticized and reinterpreted and it alsoreflects changes in the relationships between collectors, museums,and the peoples from whom their collections originate.1]TABLE OF CONTENTSABSTRACTTABLE OF CONTENTSINTRODUCTION 1THE COLLECTORS 4THE MUSEUM OF ANTHROPOLOGY 16THE BASKET MAKERS 28CONCLUSION 31ENDNOTES 35BIBLIOGRAPHY 37ii-)INTRODUCTIONNorthwest Coast Indian artists. .. .have been largely anonymousin our time. Moreover, when modern man (sic), a product of asociety which puts great emphasis on names, fame, andindividual accomplishment, looks at a collection of masks orother works of art..., he is unlikely to visualize anindividual human creator behind each piece. Seldom will he behelped towards personalizing the faceless “primitive artist”by the labels he might read....The idea that each objectrepresents the creative activity of a specific humanpersonality who lived and worked at a particular time andplace, whose artistic career had a beginning, a development,and an end, and whose work influenced and was influenced bythe work of other artists is not at all likely to come to mind(Holm, 1974:60).In his recent book, Cannibal Tours and Glass Boxes: TheAnthropology of Museums, Michael Ames (1992:44) writes: “At theUniversity of British Columbia we now train our students to be morereflexive, to inspect and write about their own work situations andto do the ethnography of their own museums.” As a student ofanthropology in general and museums in particular at UBC I havetaken these words very much to heart in the production of anexhibition which opened recently at UBC’s Museum of Anthropology(MOA).1 The exhibit Who shall remain nameless? Makers andCollectors in MOA’s Nuu-chah-nulth Basketry Collection and thissubsequent paper grew directly out of a close examination of theNuu-chah--nulth basketry collection and its associated documentationheld by MOA. During my research I noticed that, while the Museumhad records for the names of most of the people who wereresponsible for selling or donating the 350+ Nuu-chah-nulth basketsto the Museum, the records were significantly silent regarding thenames of the basket makers.21As I poured over these records it seemed that it would befruitful to apply an approach which is currently popular in theanalysis of museum exhibits (see Halpin 1978; Harraway 1985;Clifford 1991; Bal 1992) to this collection’s documentation inorder to “interrogate this silence” (Phillips 1992:3). Namely, Iwould analyze the documentation not so much to see what it revealedabout the Nuu-chah-nulth themselves or their baskets, but rather tosee what is revealed about the collectors of these baskets and theinstitution (MOA) which collected the collections. Accordingly, inthis paper, I will not attempt to reconstruct the Nuu-chah-nulthcultural context from which the baskets emerge. Rather, my aimwill be to look at the documentation surrounding the Nuu-chah-nulthbasketry as artifacts in their own right in order “to see what canbe learned about them and through them about ourselves” (Ames1992:15). These documents are often seen as simply facts about theobjects (Handler 1992)--what is known about them--but they are alsothe evidence of the “recontextualization of the objects” (Halpin1983) as the objects move from the makers to the collectors andinto the Museum.Ruth Phillips has noted that “(a)lthough we have becomerelatively adept at reading exhibitions as texts....less attentionhas been paid to the anatomy of collections as historicallycontingent object records that permit or exclude certainrepresentational possibilities” (Phillips 1992:2). The names ofmost Nuu-chah-nulth basket makers have been missing from the object2record until recently. This paper is an exploration of anonymityand identity, examining whose name becomes attached to an objectwhen it moves into a museum. This paper will look critically atwhy in the past the name most likely to become associated with anobject was that of its collector (for example “The RaleyCollection”). I will argue that ideological frameworks reflected inthe colonial foundations of both private and museum collecting andin the interpenetrating categories of “Primitive Art” (Price 1989),“Tourist Art” (Graburn 1976; Phillips 1992), “Women’sArts”/”Crafts” (Pollock and Parker 1981) have shaped thesecollecting practices. Belief in these categories produced a systemof values whereby certain objects and forms of information weredeemed to be of greater importance than others. I will also showthat in recent years these objects are increasingly beingidentified with their makers. This increased interest in theidentity of the basket makers signals a number of ideologicalshifts in the above mentioned categories as they are criticized andreinterpreted and it also reflects changes in the relationshipsbetween collectors, museums, and the peoples from whom theircollections originate.3THE COLLECTORSI am deeply grateful for the very great interest you and Mrs.Hawthorne [sic] are and have been taking in bringing theCollection to rest in the Province. Needless to say We arenaturally pleased it will be permantly [sic] known as “TheRaley Collection” and trust it will be of use to students ofthe University and give pleasure to visitors you no doubt willhave from all parts of the world (letter from Reverend G.H.Raley to Dr. H. Hawthorn Nov. 22/48: MOA Archives emphasisadded).There be of them, that have left a name behind them, thattheir praises might be reported.And some there be, which have no memorial; who are perished asthough they had never been; and are become as though they hadnever been born; and their children after them (The Bible -Apocrypha 44: 8-9).In researching the exhibition, I was often struck by how muchinformation existed in the files about the collectors--theirinterests, their travels and family histories. This informationoften revealed how the collectors came to possess the baskets butrarely did it reveal the identities of the women who made them. Asa result the collectors became more individualized, more human tome as I read their biographies, while the makers remained largelyanonymous and distanced.Private collections are about their collectors. MacCannell(1976) and Stewart (1984) among others have convincingly shown thatcollections are ways of representing the collectors’conceptualization of themselves to the world. While these objectsremain in the hands of their collectors they are intended to beread as personal statements about their owners:4The collections may have said, ‘Look how curious I am and howmeticulous and how thorough. Here is my scientificcollection, which reaffirms my belief in the order of theuniverse and the laws of nature.’ The collection may havesaid, ‘See how rich I am,’ or ‘Look at this. Look how Isurround myself with beautiful things. See what good taste Ihave, how civilized and cultivated I am.’ It may have said,‘Oh! I am a man of the world who has travelled much. Look atall the places I have been. Look at all the mysterious thingsI have brought back from my adventures. Yes! I am anadventurer’ (Cameron 1971:15).Even after these objects have made their way into museumcollections it is still possible to see the personal significancethey had for their owners, as well as some of the ideologicalfoundations of this significance. Collections remain tied to theindividuals who collected them through their documentation whichoften reflects more about this personal significance than itelucidates the meaning of the objects in their culture of origin.There is a growing literature (see Cole 1985; Gordon andHerzog 1988; Lee 1991; Feest 1992) on Native material culturecollecting and the ideologies which are reflected in the subsequentcollections. These collecting practices can be related, as MollyLee has noted: “to contemporaneous perceptions of Native peoplesand to key values in Western culture that are their source” (Lee1991:6). In her article, Lee shows that the collecting of Nativecurios at the turn-of-the Century in Alaska reflected a perceptionof Natives as being “Others” and that an authentic object collectedfrom them could have both status-related and instructiveassociations. These associations reflected a value system whichmaintained the Victorians’ feelings of cultural superiority and5relegated Native crafted objects to act as illustrations of theircollectors’ economic or social status, or as part of aclassification of natural and cultural objects, or to function assymbols of a nostalgic yearning on the part of the Westerncollectors for a more pristine past (ibid. :13). In this section Iwill draw on examples from the documentation of MOA’s Nuu-chahnuith basketry collection in order to show that the anonymity ofthe makers largely resulted from the collecting practices of peoplewho were little concerned with the identities of the basket makers.I will show that these collecting practices reveal perceptionsabout Native culture and reflect Western value systems.The extensive collection (C. 1893-1934) purchased by MOA (witha $5000 donation from H.R. Macmillan) in 1948 from Reverend GeorgeH. Raley, D.D., F.R.G.S., F.R.S.A. offers an opportunity to reflectupon an example of the collecting practices of a private collector.These are documented in MOA’s archives, where his private“Catalogue of Indian Relics,” an article entitled “Canadian IndianArt and Industries: an economic problem of to-day” (1935) writtenfor the Journal of the Royal Society of Arts, and personalcorrespondence between Rev. Raley and the Museum provide insightinto his collecting methods and the assumptions about Nativepeoples and their arts which shaped his collection.6Rev. Raley moved to B.C. in 1893 where he was stationed as aMethodist missionary in the Native village of Kitimaat. In 1906 hewas appointed to the Port Simpson Indian Mission. In 1914 he tookup the position of principal to the Coqualeetza Indian ResidentialSchool in Mission until his retirement in 1934. His extensivecollection of Native materials were collected over the course ofhis missionary works and were at one point housed at theCoqualeetza School. Later part of his collection was displayed atthe Vancouver City Hall Archives before being sold to UBC’s Museumof Anthropology in 1948.Rev. Raley’s collecting practices, from what can beascertained from his “Catalogue of Indian Relics,” are ratherobscure. It is not clear in most cases whether he bought objectsfrom Natives, was given them as gifts, acquired items throughpurchase or gift from non—Natives such as Indian agents, purchasedsome pieces in curio shops or through dealers, or simply “found”the pieces in his travels (Goodfellow 1992:6). Where Raley doesprovide some details of acquisition they are invariably for objectswhich were made by and acquired through men: “Chief Jesse’s paddle,when he drowned” (Raley n.d.:10); “Feast spoon obtained throughChief Poutlas at the head of the Inlet” (ibid.:15); “(t)riple facetaken from cave where Chiefs had been buried. Procured throughChief Paul, 1897” (ibid.:28). Not one of the more than 150basketry items from the Northwest Coast area in Raley’s collection7indicate who the makers were or through whom he had purchased them(in many cases these would have likely been the same person).3Certainly information for one class of objects was more interestingand/or important to Raley than another. It is worth noting thatthose objects for which Raley records greater amounts ofinformation (including from whom he had procured the objects) arethose which commemorate a specific event (i.e. a drowning of a highranking individual) or ceremonial goods. These objects fall intocategories of historical artifacts and ethnographic artifacts. Andwhile basketry items are also ethnographic in nature, they reflecta more mundane level than the predominantly ceremonial andspiritual objects for which he provides more in depth collectioninformation. Another clue to what divides these two classes ofobjects is that he separates objects into two categories: “arts”and “crafts” in his later writing.Indian arts and crafts are peculiarly distinctive and part ofthe Indians themselves; they are unlike anything else in theworld. Canadians regret that no organized effort has beenmade to save from oblivion that which is distinctivelyCanadian. Indian art itself, which has a charm “elfin-likeand weird” and was Canada’s first contribution to the world ofart, must not be lost (Raley 1935:993).And while Raley gives no definition of what he means by arts andcrafts it seems quite evident from his catalogue that he makes somedistinction between objects which function at a merely mundanelevel and those which serve a higher purpose.8We find that our system of advancement brought him (thenative) into competition with the white man; and at thepresent time for many reasons this is undesirable, for onlyvery few can successfully compete with the white man on equalterms. For the majority it is reasonable that their thoughtshould be directed to living by their own particular andpeculiar crafts, in which there would be no competition(ibid:995)Raley’s article reflects many of the colonial assumptions ofhis day. Indeed, he, like many other missionaries at that time(i.e. William Duncan and Thomas Crosby), saw aboriginal societiesas primitive forms of civilization which would inevitably bereplaced by a superior Western civilization (Bolt 1992:2). It wasalso a common assumption at that time, both within academic circlesas well as in the general public, that lack of individualism was infact an integral part of “primitive” societies:Much scholarly writing on these societies posits individualityat the level of the social whole rather than the humanindividual. There is even an elaborate theory of socialevolution which asserts that in “primitive” societies--incontrast to the modern West--persons are imprisoned by hide—bound traditions which block the emergence of creativeindividuality. Much, though by no means all, ethnographicwriting omits reference to individuals and posits insteadgeneric social actors (Handler 1992:24).This can be seen in Raley’s article where he uses a form of the“ethnographic present” (Fabian 1983) and utilizes a singular socialactor and employs “him” to represent all Native people. These area people without personal agency or identity. From this positionit is not surprising that the names of the makers of the objects inRev. Raley’s collection remain unidentified--the only important9social actors must emerge from Western society:After a long period of residence amongst the Indians ofCanada, it will not be presumptuous of me if, prompted by alifelong and sympathetic interest in their welfare, I discussa problem which is associated with their present and futurehappiness and prosperity (Raley 1935:989).The very fact that they are not free agents but living onReserves carries with it the responsibility to provide themwith a livelihood. We have a double responsibility to these,Nature’s children, whom we have dispossessed of theiraboriginal heritage (ibid.:991 emphasis added).A lack of concern with the names of the basket makers is alsotrue for most of the other private collectors in MOA’s collection.These baskets were collected and kept as signs of an encounter withthe Other and not a specific individual (Lee 1991). Even in caseswhere it is fairly certain that the collectors purchased orreceived their baskets directly from a basket maker no record ofthe women’s names remain.This is the case with Mrs. Grace Frost, a field nurse whoworked with the Department of Indian affairs between 1920-1945.During that time she was located in Masset, Queen CharlotteIslands, but in the course of her duties she also travelled to andworked in a number of other communities. It may have been on oneof these trips that she acquired the three Nuu-chah-nulth basketswhich were later donated to the Museum. While Grace Frost didremain for a long time in Haida territory, travelled to other10Native communities and was in frequent contact with the makers ofthe material she collected, she did not record the names of theweavers of the baskets. The baskets have become the physicalremains and reminders not of the women who produced them but of theexperiences Mrs. Frost had while serving as a field nurse in theircommunities:Mrs. Frost has seen the women making these baskets. From thetime of gathering the roots to the finished product, which inmany instances was given her in gratitude for her long andloving care in nursing them (letter from Mrs. Martin, wife ofMasset’s post master 1964: MOA Archives).Again, the importance of the baskets in the construction of Mrs.Frost’s image as a dedicated health care provider within the Nativecommunities in which she served is foregrounded, while other formsof information, such as the specific identities of her gratefulpatients are lost from the record.Indian products were not in any event perceived as art, but asethnographic evidence of a “primitive” people, as travelmementos, or as utilitarian or decorative craft objects thatcould add to the quality of the environment. They were seenand valued as anonymous products made by “Indians” (orsometimes by “Navajo,” “Washoe,” or other tribes), rather thanas creative works by individual artists. Most collectors hadpositive, even romantic feelings about the people who made theitems, but they still did not see them as real, distinct, orindividual people (Gordon and Herzog 1988:8).Thus, “ethnographic evidence of a ‘primitive’ people” ispresented by Judge Henry Castillou, “cowboy, packer, aviator,11lawyer and judge” (Vancouver Sun April 22, 1967: MOA Archives),whose collection (c. 1910-1965) reflects his interest inanthropology. A note which was found inside one of the Nuu-chahnuith baskets records his observations about the basket as well asan unattributed story about the design:Basket of grass from bottom of ocean weaved in water. Art ofthe Ahts of West Coast of Vancouver Island supposed to be theoldest Coastal people. Whale swallows two men in a canoe.Sagalee Tyee (thunderbird) comes down. Drives talons in whaleforces whale to disgorge canoe and two men. Notice joyfulexpression of two men rescued. One of the best examples ofManhousaht art-West Coast-expressing joy by simple lines. Allgo to feast on whale including Sagalee Tyee. Only fourManhousaht left. The Swan family all killed off by Ahousahtof Sidney Inlet, B.C. (Castillou n.d. MOA Archives).Castillou’s use of Native phrases, his recounting of the storybehind the design, and his apparent knowledge of West Coasthistorical events serve to establish his identity as an amateurethnographer. But the basket itself is seen as the product of Nuuchah-nulth culture (and more specifically of the Manhousaht band)rather than the work of any particular basket maker, and anyreference to the object’s true location in the realm of commoditiesis minimized by the invocation of the mythic nature of the designs.Baskets which represent “mementos,” often, though not alwaysof a person’s travels, far outnumber any other category expressedin the documentation of the private collections received by MOA.Such objects, Stewart (1984:135) points out, “serve as traces ofauthentic experience.” For example, several Nuu-chah-nulth baskets12were donated by Mrs. Mary G. Fyfe Smith to the Museum in 1951. Noinformation exists in the record of the names of the makers of anyof the large number of Northwest Coast baskets in the Fyfe Smithcollection. These baskets are just part of a larger collection ofbaskets which include Maori, Fijian, and Samoan examples and thiscollection is in turn merely a small part of a collection ofnumerous objects of all kinds from Japan, Australia, New Zealand,Hong Kong, the Phillipines as well as other Pacific Islands. Theobjects in this collection provide concrete evidence of theextensive travels of the Fyfe Smith family during the years between1900 and 1951 when much of their collection was donated to MOA.Their activities as tourists are literally mapped out by thevarious locations in which their objects were acquired.Those collectors who acquired their objects as “utilitarian ordecorative craft objects” are the least well documented within thecollection of Nuu-chah-nulth basketry at MOA. In one instance aNuu-chah--nulth basket whose collector is listed as the Justice Lordfamily record that it was used as a “jewellery box.” No otherinformation besides this function is recorded for the piece.The documentation at MOA indicates that, until very recently,private collectors recorded and passed on the names of the basketmakers to this Museum only under one set of circumstances: when thecollectors commissioned specific women to make a specialty items13not readily available on the market. This is the case with StanBailey who was a sociology student at UBC in 1938. During thatyear he commissioned Anna August of Ahousaht to prepare grasssamples, examples of the various stages of weaving, and a finishedbasketry mat as illustrations for a course paper entitled “IndianBasketry: with particular reference to and illustration of AhousahtIndian Basketry (West Coast of Vancouver Island)” (1938: MOAArchives). These items were incorporated into the collections ofthe Museum sometime after its opening in 1947. In 1942 a collectorby the name of Letitia Hay commissioned Nellie Jacobson, also ofAhousaht, to make her eight basketry buttons. In 1978 Letitia Haydonated these buttons to the museum along with a letter from NellieJacobson discussing a similar commission for another woman and anewspaper clipping from the Vancouver Sun (Cash 1954:5 MOAArchives) entitled “The Maker of Baskets,” which featured NellieJacobson “one of our most famous basket makers” (ibid.:5). It isbecause of the specific nature of these commissions, reflecting aparticular kind of relationship--one of patron/maker--which hasresulted in the names of these women becoming closely associatedwith their work. These makers were sought out by their clientsrather than accidentally encountered and these relationships arefurther documented in the letter and the term paper which werewritten. It is, however, worth noting that the name of the womanwho was responsible for supplying Stan Bailey with the basketry andgrass samples for his paper was initially missing from all thedocumentation relating to this collection. It was during the14course of my research that I ran across a copy of Stan Bailey’soriginal paper in an unrelated file in which he clearly identifiedAnna August of Ahousaht as the basket maker. Somehow, over theyears her name had become separated from the objects which shemade, although the information regarding Stan Bailey and the paperhe wrote remained tied to the collection.15THE MUSEUM OF ANTHROPOLOGY*1. Field catalog number*2. Ethnic group of users3. Name of artifact3.1 In local language; with translation if possible3.2 In English (or other major world language).*4 UseSome general notes, plus sufficient information toallow proper display (e.g., the precise manner inwhich a piece of clothing is worn).5. History*5.1 Where, from whom, and date obtained5.2 Where made (especially if made by anotherethnic group and imported by the group usingit); maker’s name and social group if known*53 Age (new; if not new, an estimate of age shouldbe obtained to provide data on durability andon style changes)6. Condition6.1 Wear, damage, missing pieces6.2 Directions for assembly, if dismantled7. Component materials (at least the vernacular names)8. Typicality8.1 Commonness of the type, frequency in thecommunity8.2 Owners’ or users’ evaluation of its quality ascompared to others of the same kind8.3 Estimate of local value (monetary and other);price paid if purchased9. Other associated specimens in the collection (parts ofcomplexes of use or manufacture; contrasting pieces)* minimum essential documentation (Sturtevant 1977:29 emphasisadded--note that the maker’s name is not included in theminimum documentation).Sturtevant notes regarding field collected objects: “the valueof a collection depends almost entirely on the quality of theaccompanying data” (1977:28). The quality of the data can varywidely depending upon the type of collecting which is done. Atthis point I would like to emphasize a fundamental distinctionbetween the donated/purchased collections from collectors which Ihave focused on in the preceding section, and museum sponsored16field collections (such as Sturtevant is discussing) or museumcommissions of material. Museum staff would love to acquire theircollections through their own commissions or field collecting wherethe fullest possible information could be obtained. But thereality is that museums necessarily depend in large measure uponthe collecting efforts of others who then donate or sell theirmaterials to museums and, as I have shown above, these individualsoften did not bother to record maker or user information.So far I have focused on how the nature of private collectingshaped the information which was passed on to the Museum and howthe collectors’ concerns with personal identity eclipsed theidentity of the makers of the baskets. It would be easy to end myanalysis here with the collectors bearing all the responsibilityfor the anonymity of the makers of the Nuu-chah-nulth basketry inMOA’s collection. During my research however, I found evidencethat suggests that upon occasion the staff of the Museum were lessinterested in the identities of basket makers than they were inother aspects of the baskets. As with collectors, those aspectswhich are foregrounded at the Museum reflect the museum staff’sconceptualization of the Museum’s role and their relationships toexisting currents in both popular and intellectual thought.Museums are not mainly responsible for (the) condition ofethnographic data, and when they label an artifact with thename of a group rather than that of a person, they may believethat they have no other choice. There are, after all, nonames for anonymous artists. Nonetheless, museums’ use ofthese collective identifications, in contrast to the17personalized attributes given to Western artworks (Monet’sWater Lilies, but a Kwakiutl mask) reproduces an ideologyabout the inferior individualization of non-Western peoples(Handler 1991:24).Recent criticisms have shown how exhibitions reflect thepolitical and cultural assumptions present in popular culture (eg.Harraway 1985; Stocking, ed. 1985; Karp and Lavine, eds. 1991;Feest 1992). This is not only reflected in the exhibits mounted byan institution but can also be seen in decisions regarding fieldcollecting (or not field collecting) certain objects, in acquiring(or not acquiring) objects offered to a museum and in the types ofinformation which are (and are not) elicited by the staff in thedocumentation process. The categories into which Nuu-chah-nulthbaskets have been placed (“Tourist Art,” “Primitive Art,” and“Women’s Art”/”Crafts”) also reflect assumptions regarding thevalue of these materials as objects for collection, research andfor exhibition within museums.Each act of selecting items, selecting peoples from whom tocollect, electing to elicit information on the detailedhistory of each item, their producers, users, and owners,choosing items for public display in exhibitions, andorganizing those displays was an act of creation (Dominguez1986:550).Again, as before, examination of the documentation of these basketsreveals the unconscious workings of an ideology which functioned tovalue one object over another, and particular aspects of an objectover other aspects of the same object.18I wonder if you would be willing to make notes as the materialis packed. This would be a tremendous help to me, in a summerthat is impssibly [sic] overworked and understaffedWrite, for each piece whatever of the following data you have:# name of item, from whom purchased date. tribe & name ofowner if you know it. date it was in use or made. location.any remarks you care to make. I know that this is a greatdeal of work, and as I say, if you cannot do it, we’ll have toleave it for now. But this is all data that we musteventually obtain for the greatest use of the records. Do notdo this in any case for routine objects, like baskets orunimportant objects....We are looking forward very much to its arrival, as it iswonderful material. Generations of students will be using itin time to come; this of course, is also why it is soimportant to have the records as full as possible, lookingtowards the day when the only traces of the old tribal waysare to be learned from Museums! (Audrey Hawthorn to EdithBevan Cross 1962: MOA Archives emphasis added).In this quotation from a letter written by MOA’s foundingcurator, Audrey Hawthorn, to Mrs. Edith Bevan Cross in 1962,basketry material is pointedly excluded from those objects forwhich the curator is actively seeking detailed information. It isclear from the letter that there are materials for which she ismore interested in receiving information (those items that wouldnot be deemed routine or unimportant) and these can be identifiedas those objects which represent the “old tribal ways.”There are two interpenetrating points of interest in thisstatement. The first is the apparent association between thingswhich are old and things which are worthy of attention. The secondis the assumption that the “old tribal ways” will someday soon onlybe found in the Museum.19Ethnological collecting rested on the belief that “it isnecessary to use the time to collect before it is too late”Too late for what? There is a historicalconsciousness here of a special sort. We hear an urgency inthe voices of the collectors, a fear that we will no longer beable to get our hands on these objects, and that this wouldamount to an irretrievable loss of the means of preserving ourown historicity (Dominguez 1986:548).These perceptions were not new at the time when Hawthorn wrote thisletter, as Gordon and Herzog (1988:8) point out:Turn-of-the-century collectors rushing to find Indian goodsbefore they disappeared rarely acknowledged the discrepancybetween their assumption and the burgeoning number of Indiangoods being handled by traders and curio dealers. When theydid, they tended to value only the older, “authentic” forms.There was little exploration of the idea that there were new,experimental and often innovative forms in nearly all media,or that Indian art traditions were continuing to evolve. Thegeneral assumption, of course, was that there would soon be nomore Indians.The assumption of cultural loss and the importance of museumsalvage continued well into the late 1960’s, when what has beentermed the Northwest Coast art renaissance or revival (but what inactuality was the continued evolution of Native art traditions asmentioned above) made it clear that Native traditions and arts werenot going to disappear. And while the Museum of Anthropology hasbeen more progressive than most institutions in the recognition ofcontemporary Native artists, it is interesting to note that it wasthe male arts of carving and the old, traditional forms such astotem poles, not recognizable women’s arts or tourist arts whichfirst received official recognition through patronage:20Probably the single most important event was in 1949 whenAudrey and Harry Hawthorn of the UBC Museum of Anthropologycommissioned Kwakiutl carvers Ellen Neel and Mungo Martin torestore some of the poles at the university. This commissionestablished Martin as a full time carver and informant inresidence, first for two years at UBC and subsequently for tenyears at the RBCM with Wilson Duff (Ames 1992:63-64).Baskets can, in this context, be interpreted as being lessimportant to collect information about since most were not rare,old pieces in need of salvage but rather part of a modern touristtrade where mass production had made them a “routine” object.Phillips has noted that the focus on the old, the “authentic” andthe unacculturated which resulted in the “exclusion of theseobjects from formal programs of collecting and exhibiting wascentral to the standard museum representation of Native American asother, as marginalized and as premodern” (1992:4); a standardrepresentation which MOA has not been entirely successful atavoiding.It could be argued that one of the reasons that MOA does nothave many baskets made by named makers prior to 1987 is due to thefact that the museum had never been offered a collection whosecollector knew the names of the makers. This, however, is not thecase. In 1984 Trevor Goodall of Port Alberni offered a “collectionof weaving saved and collected many years ago, all is master workand in 100% condition. Also who made the baskets etc. and dateswhen I got them” (letter from Trevor Goodall to Michael Ames 1984:MOA Archives, emphasis added). From the correspondence in the file21it is clear that Mr. Goodall desired that most of his collection beplaced in the Museum of Anthropology (as the larger Museum with thegreater prestige) and that some of the pieces also should be placedin the Alberni Valley Museum in Port Alberni. At MOA however, itwas felt that much of his collection duplicated in form and stylemany of the baskets already found in UBC’s collection. MOAsubsequently transferred all but one of the baskets to the AlberniValley Museum where they would be closer to the women who wove thebaskets to act as sources of inspiration (Elizabeth Johnson, 1993personal communication). Included in the baskets which weretransferred to Port Alberni were baskets made by Mildred Benson ofAhousaht, Mrs. Keitlah of Ahousaht, and a set of seven “nestingbaskets” made by “Old Mary” of Santa and sold in the PrincessMaquinna Gift Shop, as well as a basketry covered bottle which Mr.Goodall attributes to Mrs. Jumbo. At this time only two namedmakers were identified in MOA’s Nuu—chah-nulth basketry collection.Mr. Goodall’s collection would have effectively tripled the numberof identified Nuu-chah--nulth baskets makers in the collection.Of particular note here is that the basket which MOA decidedto keep for its collection was a pattern basket (c. 1900); a basketwhich was considered, by virtue of its age and its style, to filla gap in the Museum’s collection (Elizabeth Johnson, 1993 personalcommunication). Another example of “filling the gaps” can be seenin a letter from Audrey Hawthorn to Mrs. Jessie Webster, a basketmaker from Ahousaht:22One of your grandchildren was a visitor to our Museumyesterday to look at our Nootka materials. She said that youstill made the nobility hat by weaving....If so, what do youcharge? I would like to have one for our Museum as we havenone. Please let me know, so I may order one (letter fromAudrey Hawthorn to Jessie Webster 1971: MOA Archives).The nobility hat (also called the Whaler’s or Maquinna hat) towhich Hawthorn is referring is a contemporary interpretation of thetwined cedar basketry hats worn by high ranking Nuu-chah-nulthpeople at the time of European contact. The moderninterpretations, such as those made by Jessie Webster, utilizedifferent materials (grass instead of cedar) and differenttechniques (wrapped twining instead of twining) but they closelymatch the form and designs of the old versions. This nobility hatand two later ones also commissioned by Audrey Hawthorn are theonly Nuu-chah-nulth basketry material which has ever beencommissioned directly by the staff at this Museum (no informationregarding the materials, the process of manufacture, or thesymbolism of the designs was requested by Audrey Hawthorn).The phrase “filling gaps,”....point(s) clearly to theidealized taxonomic chart of culture that lay behind theethnologist-collectors’ project, with available slots waitingfor insertion of imagined objects--objects which, if they didnot exist ‘in the field’ would have to be (re)invented(Phillips 1992:15).The notion of “filling the gaps” in a collection reflectscertain ideological assumptions which have tended to focus museumcollecting practices on the gathering of older “ethnically pure”materials. Phillips (1992:13) has noted that “the project of23ethnological collecting rested on the assumption that ethnicity andmaterial culture were isomorphically related, a belief in theperfect coincidence of art and cultural style...” Those items whichare obviously the results of culture contact are not, in the samesense, “authentic;” being in essence intercultural rather thanpurely cultural (ibid:25). Thus, the “old”, “rare” pattern basket--made for the use of the basket maker (as a pattern sampler) ratherthan the market--and the re-creation of the Maquinna hat--a moderninterpretation of a traditional form--are privileged over moreobviously acculturated objects.To make it more complicated, consider women’s work. They areusually assigned to the lower status categories of “craft” and“decorative arts” (Ames 1992:155).In the section on collectors it was possible to show evidencedrawn from the documentation which indicates that information aboutthe baskets and the women who make them may not be as complete asthat gathered about objects made by men, a distinction which can becaptured in the separation of art from craft (Parker and Pollack1981:51). I will now turn to the question of whether a parallelideology of men’s “art” versus women’s “craft” has functioned inthe Museum of Anthropology to create a set of values whereby theworks of men has been deemed more interesting or important thanthose of women. It is impossible to fully separate the variousinfluences that the overlapping categories of “Primitive Art,”24“Tourist Art,” “Women’s Art,”/”Craft” have had on the valuing orde-valuing of the Nuu-chah-nulth baskets (and by extension theirmakers) within the Museum of Anthropology; but, it is possible tomake a few observations regarding the apparent place of women andtheir “Crafts” within the Museum and its possible effect on theanonymity of these particular basket makers.In examining the Museum’s collecting practices a fewobservations can be made. There is no evidence to be found in thecollections themselves which would suggest that objects are turnedaway if their makers were women. In fact in examining MOA’scollection of Nuu-chah-nulth material it can be seen that basketsoutnumber all other Nuu-chah-nulth objects by more than two to one.True, as I noted above, less information tends to be availableabout the baskets in the collection, but responsibility for thislies with the collectors who failed to gather pertinent data (ordoes it?--see preceding discussion of the Bevan Cross collection,the Jessie Webster commission, and the separation of Anna August’sname from the other information about her baskets).It is in MOA’s permanent exhibits where we can see thegreatest distinction between “art” and “craft,” between the maleand the female, and between the celebrated and the merelydisplayed. The Great Hall, the Koerner Masterpiece Gallery, andthe Rotunda are the three permanent galleries where objects fromNorthwest Coast Native peoples are exhibited as fine art objects,25and within these galleries you will find objects whose makers aremen. Within the Great Hall, where the maker is known, his name isrecorded on the plaques which provide minimal information aboutthese monumental pieces. Within the Masterpiece Gallery, the malemakers are also identified for some but by no means the majority ofthe pieces. Within the Rotunda there is only one object, commonlyconsidered the centrepiece of MOA, the contemporary sculpture TheRaven and the First Men which was carved by Bill Reid. These threegalleries comprise the total permanent exhibit space dedicated tocelebrating the accomplishments of Northwest Coast First Nationsartists.Objects which have been made by women are found on permanentdisplay in the Museum’s “visible storage” system (also known as the“Research Collections”)5. These are not exhibits per Se, butrather a large portion of the Museum’s storage area arrangedgeographically and made accessible to the general public. Here youwill find the basketry items, the beaded objects, and many of theother objects made by women--clothing and textiles are notdisplayed at all due to their light sensitive nature. The makersnames, when known, are not placed with the objects but can be foundin the catalogue records located in large data books scatteredthroughout the gallery. Although there have been a number oftemporary exhibits set up in other galleries which feature women’sarts over the years, I want to focus on the day-to-day messageswhich are being communicated by the Museum. Surely there is system26of values reflected by the arrangement of the permanent gallerieswhich privileges men’s “arts” over women’s “crafts.” This dynamicis in fact repeated and reinforced in the Museum Gift Shop--wherethe only handcrafted objects which are regularly sold as anonymousworks are those made by women.27THE BASKET MAKERSThey are just starting to take names down at the museums--keeping track of who did what...I don’t think that in mygrandmother’s time they took any names...her work might be inVictoria (at the RBCM) but they don’t have the names (NellieDennis, 1991 personal communication).Within the past five years at the Museum of Anthropology thenumber of named Nuu-chah--nulth basket makers on record has morethan tripled. This dramatic increase attracted my attention duringmy initial research as much as the near silence regarding themakers which characterized the first 40 years of collecting thismaterial at MOA, and which has been the main subject of this paper.It was obvious that changes have occurred which make thisinformation more available and/or desirable. But just what arethese changes? In this concluding section I will argue that theincreased interest in the identity of the basket makers signals anumber of ideological shifts in the categories of “Primitive Art,”“Tourist Art,” “Women’s Art”/”Crafts.” I will also discuss howchanging relationships between collectors, the Museum, and thepeoples from whom their collections originate has resulted ingreater attention being paid to the individual accomplishments ofNative artists.Two of the Museums of Anthropology’s more recent acquisitionsof Nuu-chah-nulth basketry material have included the names of themakers. In 1989 Mr. Mason Davis, an art dealer in Victoria, solda collection of Nuu-chah-nulth basketry objects which he had28purchased from the son of the well-known basket maker Dora Frank.Nelson Graburn (1976) has noted that it serves a dealer’s interestto play up the name of individual makers as part of thecontemporary advancement of these pieces as objects of art..(M)iddlemen and dealers have tried to promote the names ofindividual artists to the buying public. For the art-collecting public, the underlying analogy is that sincecreative works of value are made by named individuals in ourculture, the best of someone else’s culture must also be madeby unique, named individuals (Graburn 1976:22).It is interesting to note that in this case the name of thebasket maker was the only information provided by Mr. Davis.Likewise, when Vera Maceluch sold her three Nuu-chah-nulth basketsto the Museum in 1992 the only information she was able to providewere the makers’ names, Elsie Dennis and Mary Moses. As a privatecollector Vera Maceluch valued her baskets as aesthetic objectsmade by named artists (Vera Maceluch, 1992 personal communication),rather than as ethnographic specimens or as souvenirs.Examples such as these show that the borders between“Primitive Art,” “Tourist Art,” Women’s Art”/”Crafts” and theprivileged realm of “Fine Art” are becoming blurred, not onlywithin the official institutions, but in the minds of the generalpublic as well.(The) craft explosion was reinforced by a renewed scholarlyand popular attention to folk art, seen at this point less asAmericana or a manifestation of the rural or working classthan as yet another legitimate but undervalued form ofartistic expression. This perception was in turn reinforced29or informed by the feminist interest in reclaiming the art ofunsung generations of “anonymous” women...and by theirredefinition of what should be understood as “legitimate” art(Gordon and Herzog 1988:11).We may someday drop by again. If you would like to know whatI make, I make oval baskets which sell really good, any size,as long as it’s not too big, and I weave over bottles, smallor big. I weave over glass balls or abalone shell and overvases and I do earrings, in different shapes, I’m sending 2 ofthem there which you may see...(letter from Annie Clappis toAllison Cronin 1990: MOA Archives).Recently Nuu-chah-nulth basket makers have been approachingthe museum directly in order to sell their baskets, as the makersexploit the Museum’s function as a purveyor of values. What isemerging is a relationship different from that between the Museumand private collectors. The Museum staff is also more activelyinvolved in interviewing the makers about their work when theybring in their baskets. From this shifting relationship, differentkinds of information are being provided by the makers than thosetraditionally provided by collectors. Information regarding theprocess of weaving, the collection of materials, personalinfluences and innovations emerge as the important aspects for themakers.Basket making is very slow work. Its slow work because youhave to keep three strands going at the same time. The glassfloats are especially hard to cover because they keepslipping. . .All the weaving materials have to be wet. However,if they are too wet then the colours end up really ugly(Interview of Christina Cox by Dr. Elizabeth Johnson 1988: MOAArchives).This information represents to the Museum those aspects of thebaskets which these women deem as most important.30CONCLUS IONWhile the object systems of art and anthropology areinstitutionalized and powerful, they are not immutable. Thecategories of the beautiful, the cultural, and the authentichave changed and are changing. Thus it is important to resistthe tendency of collections to be self-sufficient, to suppresstheir own historical, economic, and political processes ofproduction (Clifford 1988:229).Within this paper I have used examples taken from thedocumentation of MOA’s Nuu-chah-nulth basketry collection in orderto show how the categories of “Primitive Art,” “Tourist Art,” and“Women’s Art”/”Craft” have provided both private and museumcollectors with the ideological frameworks which have shaped theircollecting practices. Inclusion or exclusion from these categorieslargely determined how objects and information about them werevalued by their various collectors. Recent criticisms of thesecategories and, more importantly, analyses of in whose intereststhey have functioned to include and exclude certain objects andsets of values, have been instrumental in exposing theirideological foundations. The recategorization of these objects as“Fine Art” and the subsequent concern with named makers has hadpolitical as well as theoretical implications:Deciding what is ‘art’ is not only a matter of academictradition, semantics, or personal preference, it is also apolitical act. The label determines what is to be admittedinto that inner sanctum of the cultural establishment, theprestigious gallery of art. To deny serious consideration ofthe art of indigenous peoples, that is, to exclude it frommainstream instjtutjons....js ‘to collaborate in thesuppression of their identity and in their continuingexclusion from the full life of this country’ (Ames 1992:154).31The redefinition of these pieces as “Fine Art” also has hadimplications for the recognition of individual Native artists:Hand in hand with the new perception of Indian works as arthas come the recognition that these are not anonymous productsmade by faceless people, but recognizable individual works,created by nameable artists. This new apprehension has had anenormous impact on the contemporary Indian art scene and oncontemporary Indian artists (Gordon and Herzog 1988:12).Therefore naming itself becomes a political act, determining who isrecognised and valued by society.6The redefinitions which are discussed above are part of alarger picture of changing relationships between museums and FirstNations. Museums have responded to criticisms from within theNative community by re-examining many of the ways in which FirstNations peoples have been represented by museums. The joint TaskForce Report on Museums and First Peoples (1992) sponsored by theAssembly of First Nations and the Canadian Museums Associationpoints out some of the ways in which First Nations peoples wouldlike museums to respond to their desire for better representationin museums:The major focus of discussions has been on the interpretationof First Peoples culture and history in public exhibitions.It was agreed that the role of First Peoples in Canadianhistory should be stressed. This approach should replace thestereotyped exhibitions that depict First Peoples as dying,primitive and inferior cultures, or as cultures isolated fromCanada’s history, in “pre-history” galleries. The linkagebetween Aboriginal heritage and the present circumstances ofFirst Peoples should also be represented; in fact, museumsshould become forums for discussions of relevant contemporaryissues (Assembly of First Nations and the Canadian MuseumsAssociation 1992:4).32As part of the struggle to redefine the relationship betweenFirst Nations peoples and museums, greater attention is being paidto the individuals whose objects end up in museum collections. Asa result staff at the Museum are more actively gatheringinformation about the makers of the Nuu-chah-nulth basketry andthrough this information these women emerge as living, changinghuman beings in a way that is impossible when their objects come tothe Museum through a third party (the collector).I’m really glad that I learned and that it is still in thefamily. It won’t become a lost art (Rita Dennis, 1993personal communication).It gives you pride that you can do those things. Likesometimes I can get into the designs and it’s right there -all the things my mother used to say. I put a canoe there anda whale and I remember her telling me what they used to do(Julie Johnson, 1991 personal communication).(Harold Touchie and his wife) want to preserve the piece sothat their daughters know where it is and can see it(Interview of Harold Touchie by Carol Mayer 1992: MOAArchives).Themes of survival, resistance against a dominant culture andcultural continuity are the stories that emerge from theinformation provided by the makers. Museums will continue toreflect the self-conceptualizations of the private collectors aswell as those of museum curators; but by knowing the people whomade the objects and talking to them it is also possible to see howthe makers conceive of themselves in relation to these objects.And rather than being the remnants of a past colonial discourse,33these objects and the stories they can tell point to an emergingpost-colonial relationship between the Museum and the peoples fromwhom their objects originate.34ENDNOTESThe exhibit, Who shall remain nameless? Makers and Collectorsin MOA’s Nuu-chah--nulth Basketry Collection was on display atthe UBC Museum of Anthropology between April 13 and September26, 1993. The exhibit and this paper were completed in partialfulfilment of the requirements for the Master of Arts program.2 The documentation of the Nuu-chah-nulth basketry collectionshowed that the Museum had the records of the names of thesources for all but 10 of the baskets while only thirteen ofthe makers of these baskets were identified by name. Onlythree basket makers were identified in the collection prior to1987. Altogether, the thirteen identified basket makersaccount for fewer than 30 of the over 350 Nuu-chah-nulthbasketry objects in MOA’S collection.3 While it is possible that Rev. Raley acquired some of thebasketry material through men as well (men sold baskets madeby their wives or other female relatives) this is not evidentin the documentation. Only those objects which were made bymen and acquired through them occasionally have the names ofthe men from whom these objects were collected.4 While it is true that Ellen Neel is a woman, it is also truethat she works in what has generally been recognised (on theNorthwest Coast) as the male idiom of carving and painting.The average visitor to the Museum remains unaware that womencould have had anything to do with the totem poles which standin the Great Hall. And also worth mentioning is that it wasMungo Martin who went on as the resident carver/informant atMOA as well as at the RBCM and not Ellen Neel.5 A structural problem exists in the design of the Museum ofAnthropology which limits the options for the exhibition ofwomen’s work in the permanent exhibit galleries. The GreatHall, the Masterpiece gallery and the Rotunda are all exposedto natural sunlight. Due to the light sensitive nature of mostof the objects made by women--baskets, textiles and clothing--inclusion of these pieces in these galleries presentsdifficult conservation problems.6 The focus in this paper on the individual maker isideologically and politically motivated. Graburn identifiessome of the ideological bases for a concern with theindividual:(W)ith the emergence of industrialization with its35accent on standardization, competitiveness, and progress,the artist became further glorified. This cult ofindividualism, as opposed to cooperative equalitarianeffort, fits a belief system that differentiates art fromlife and leaders from ordinary people (1976:23).At this time it is the discourse which focuses on theindividual artist which is both the dominant as well asprivileged one. As the earlier quote by Ames (1992:154)points out “to deny serious consideration of the art ofindigenous peoples, that is to exclude it from mainstreaminstitutions. . . .is ‘to collaborate in the suppression of theiridentity and in their continuing exclusion from the full lifeof this country.’” It has been my aim throughout this paper toquestion the exclusion of the names of basket makers from theinformation found in a mainstream institution--the museum.This of course is not the only approach. Janet Wolff hasargued against the privileging of the individual artist in herbook The Social Production of Art (1981) (although here she islargely concerned with Western Art and Western Art History):(T)his book will systematically consider the socialproduction of art, and.... will move progressively awayfrom the idea of artist-as-creator. I hope to show thatthe named artist played much less of a part in theproduction of the work than our commonsense view of theartist as genius, working with divine inspiration, leadsus to believe. I will argue that many other people areinvolved in producing the work, that social andideological factors determine or affect thewriter/painter’s work, and that the audiences and readersplay and active and participatory role in creating thefinished product (1981:25).This approach argues for looking at how society contributes tothe production of the art which is subsequently attributed toindividuals. This approach is quite new in the analysis ofWestern art which has tended to focus too much on individuals.The study of tribal arts has suffered from the reverseproblem. The art of non-Western societies has been seen asemerging strictly from communal, social forces rather thanfrom an individual (Handler 1992:24). It is not my aim in thispaper to deny the role of society in the production of art ingeneral but rather to examine why certain classes of objectshave been excluded from the dominant discourse.36I-‘.00‘.00‘.0‘.0‘.0D‘.00‘.0P.‘.0U)‘.0Hcococo.‘.0‘.0I—’‘.0U)‘.0CDWU1(DI-CDt’3r1I3CD‘3U)H,“.H000ii0CD0CD‘<N..CDP.’0IICD0I4I-3CD—IP)-hIC)p.’..i-<IPPp.’rJ,PP’-‘-3CIIP)CDIrU)10I-•CD0ItloOIcniICn-CIJ(DS‘•C<CDIPHQCDI.CCDICD’.ICD‘CDU)INlCDDiI-’I’rii-.1.1I•‘•(I)I-cnU1ZiC)CD2Cfl1Ip.’lI-icnr1IcnP.’Ir’-Qoj-..CDCDDiU).<0II-,lU)I-irCDCl)P.’ir’P.’2trt‘<U’Ictp,U1CD000U)uiI’tJQrIU)CDI00<CDolCDCD.U1l_.I(D‘1rtCD-tCflCDP’I-U)IICDCO.’IrP.’CD0CDIP.’U)CDH,CD‘.0Ir‘..OCDIIzcICD.CD0010DiI—CDCDU)<P.’II2I-.•P.’U)•0I-Ci)U,DPICD.%tics)Cl)00CDCDDi‘-‘P.’CD0..‘oCDU)•‘<XH,CD•.“CDp.’fliS•ti025o0CD0CD0Op.’Cfl•IflCDti(DIi0IU)•CDiCDZItiIr0IIi-’.CDCDU)p.’CDIrtoloI-1H,I<IC0CDIp.’0cn’CD—0050‘H0•rt-(tQOCflO1tCl)r.0DixJ0P.’rItil0r1CDCD[.U)P.’••‘dCDo•I-’I-1c-tU)rtO(DO=<I-’CDP.’DlCI)ICfl.3CDU)U)HIP)CflOSCD0rlrU).0U)H,Fabian, Johannes1983 Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes Its Object.New York: Columbia University PressFeest, Christian F.1992 “American Indians and Ethnographic Collecting in Europe.”Museum Anthropology: The Journal of the Council forMuseum Anthropology 16(1)7-11Graburn, Nelson H.I-I.1976 Ethnic and Tourist Arts: Cultural Expressions from theFourth World. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University ofCalifornia PressGoodfellow, Anne1992 “Mission as Museums, and Objects as Madness: Power,Collecting and the Social Construction of MuseumArtifacts (The Raley Collection at the Museum ofAnthropology, UBC).” Unpublished paper.Gordon, Beverly and Melanie Herzog1988 American Indian Art: The Collecting Experience, Madison,Wisc.: The Elvehjem Museum of Art.Halpin, Marjorie1978 “Review of the “12,000 Year Gap: Archaeology in BritishColumbia,” and “First Peoples: Indian Cultures in BritishColumbia” at the British Columbia Provincial Museum.”Gazette 11 (1) :40—81983 “Anthropology as Artefact.” In Frank Manning (ed.)Consciousness and Inquiry: Ethnology and CanadianRealities. Ottawa: National Museum of CanadaHandler, Richard1992 “On the Valuing of Museum Objects.” Museum Anthropology:Journal of the Council for Museum Anthropology 16(1) :21-28Harraway, Donna1985 “Teddy Bear Patriarchy: Taxidermy in the Garden of Eden.”New York City, 1908-1936. Winter: 20-6338Holm, Bill1974 “The Art of Willie Seaweed: A Kwakiutl Master.” In MilesRichardson (ed.) The Human Mirror, pp. 59-90. BatonRouge: Louisiana State University Press.Karp, Ivan and Steven D. Lavine, eds.1991 Exhibiting Cultures: The Poetics and Politics of MuseumDisplay. Washington and London: Smithsonian InstitutionLee, Molly1991 “Appropriating the Primitive: Turn-of-the-CenturyCollecting and Display of Native Alaskan Art.” ArcticAnthropology, 28(1) :6-15MacCannell, Dean1976 The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class. New York:Scocken BooksPhillips, Ruth1992 “Why Not Tourist Art? Significant Silences in NativeAmerican Museum Representations.” Paper presented at theShelby Cullom Davis Centre for Historical StudiesColloquium, “Museums and Collecting: Colonial andPostcolonial,” Princeton University, 3-4 AprilPrice, Sally1989 Primitive Art in Civilized Places. Chicago and London:University of Chicago PressParker, Rozsika and Griselda Pollack1981 Old Mistresses: Women, Art and Ideology. London,Routledge & Kegan Paul; Pandora Press (1986).Raley, George H.1935 “Canadian Indian Art and Industries: An economic problemof to-day.” The Journal of the Royal Society of ArtsLXXXIII (4320):989—1001Stewart, Susan1984 On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic,the Souvenir, the Collection. Baltimore: The JohnsHopkins University Press39I—Icn‘DOcol-.oO-JI1(nOCDc_I1)4-3CDCIU)ø%IflQØIIT(D1CDflII—’.0•IcoioCfl(fl•.IctCDoICDWc•_.I_.’J0’Pi•j.<Q.II 0CDOI100O•••0CD0ITjI••°ICOOctU)0U)CtU)•cnoot-l‘0IILQU)0CDCtCDk<CDUi11O I_J00)-1 CDtx:jIIDCDo 0)CtCDCl)I-.000U)0

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