Thursday, March 11, 2010
Classic Hope
The movement of the cutting horse is a symphony in grace. The term cutting horse was given to the horse trained to cut-a-way an animal (cow) from a herd and separate it into a select group. The trained cutter does the work. The rider picks the animal to be separated and the horse does the rest, just hang on and keep a tight saddle. Cutting contests are highly competitive as a timed and big purse equine event. This event is related to an event called penning.
War Party at the River
Early in my life I had a friend, Nathan, that lived down the road from our little farm. Nat’s mother was a pretty Sioux Indian woman. Her grandfather, “Spotted Owl”, lived with Nat’s family. He was very old and spent most of his time sleeping and looking off into space. He loved to tell stories of his past life on the prairie of South Dakota. The Indians and the bison freely moved across a sea of grass in the 1840’s and the air was free of the Blue Coats, that would come like locust later. Marauding tribes roamed the prairie stealing horses, capturing women and raiding camps. War between tribes was common. Great Grandfather’s life stories lived when he told them and Nat and I rode right with him. He loved the “war party” story and we loved hearing him tell it. His eyes would shine and his weak voice would grow strong and chills would climb your spine.
We had been on the trail of the Pawnee four moons. They had raided our camp, took many horses and a hand (5) of women and girls during their raid. Our main hunting party had been away hunting tatonka (bison). The large number of men being away made it easy for them to attack us. I was young and the hunt was my first as a chase rider.
The escape plan of Pawnee was to split into small groups. The tactic made them harder to find. The tracker “Wind in Grass” knew they would gather at one place to cross the river and he found the location. “Wind in Grass” points the way to “Runs Like Wolf” and “Little Calf” prepares to alert the war party for the crossing. “Runs Like Wolf’s” wife is one of the captives along with two of his daughters. We readied ourselves for the attack. This was my first battle and I was frightened and brave at the same time. It would be a great day to die.
We circled them a short distance from the river and the attack was swift. They had not expected us. There was only two hands (10) of them against three hands (15) of us. The women were split away by two riders and then we attacked. I made my first coup and a kill for scalp. That day I grew from a boy to a man. The women revenged themselves on the dead bodies. We returned home with great celebration.
Foote note: ‘Spotted Owl” died when I was seven. My mother said the newspaper said “Spotted Owl” was over a hundred years and very old.
We had been on the trail of the Pawnee four moons. They had raided our camp, took many horses and a hand (5) of women and girls during their raid. Our main hunting party had been away hunting tatonka (bison). The large number of men being away made it easy for them to attack us. I was young and the hunt was my first as a chase rider.
The escape plan of Pawnee was to split into small groups. The tactic made them harder to find. The tracker “Wind in Grass” knew they would gather at one place to cross the river and he found the location. “Wind in Grass” points the way to “Runs Like Wolf” and “Little Calf” prepares to alert the war party for the crossing. “Runs Like Wolf’s” wife is one of the captives along with two of his daughters. We readied ourselves for the attack. This was my first battle and I was frightened and brave at the same time. It would be a great day to die.
We circled them a short distance from the river and the attack was swift. They had not expected us. There was only two hands (10) of them against three hands (15) of us. The women were split away by two riders and then we attacked. I made my first coup and a kill for scalp. That day I grew from a boy to a man. The women revenged themselves on the dead bodies. We returned home with great celebration.
Foote note: ‘Spotted Owl” died when I was seven. My mother said the newspaper said “Spotted Owl” was over a hundred years and very old.
Hay Stack Racing
The sport of kings, horse racing is one of the ancient contests of horse and man that has persisted through the ages. Horse racing has come in many forms. Hay stack racing was but a short interlude in the sport as we know it today.
The years of the prohibition halted organized betting and caused the regular tracks to cease functioning. The poverty of the Great Depression and World War II was a set back for organized racing. Short track and small meets became the norm. Towns such as Butte and Anaconda, Montana, fostered such races in a network of "bullring" race tracks, fairs and carnivals. Most tracks were crude and about a half mile in length.
I remember tracks that were made by dragging a stonebolt and harrow around and around in a hay field to make a place to race. If a jockey fell too far behind he just cut across the field to catch up. Often jockeys were caught up in the starting net that was stretched across the track. When the starter jerked up the net the race started. Many times the net was not raised high enough and you would be thrown to the ground. This was a rough game, but as an aspiring jockey you had to start someplace. There were few regulations and no one to enforce them. The goal was to win any way you could.
The jockey had many ways to slow down the competition. A jerk or hanging on to the leader's saddle blanket was a favorite. Grabbing the tail of the lead horse was also a good trick. A vicious cut, with the riding crop, to a rider or his horse would break strides and cause injury. Pushing horses into the rail, bumping and intentional blocking was common in all races.
Some of these tactics went on in the 1940's. I was lucky, we played the game pretty straight, but, when you were behind and away from observers, things did happen.
As I read the book "Seabiscuit" by Laura Hillenbrand, I recalled those days and some of her descriptions made chills run up and down my spine. The sculpture, "Hay Stack Racing," depicts some of the antics of the unruly game of horse racing in the 30's and 40's.
The years of the prohibition halted organized betting and caused the regular tracks to cease functioning. The poverty of the Great Depression and World War II was a set back for organized racing. Short track and small meets became the norm. Towns such as Butte and Anaconda, Montana, fostered such races in a network of "bullring" race tracks, fairs and carnivals. Most tracks were crude and about a half mile in length.
I remember tracks that were made by dragging a stonebolt and harrow around and around in a hay field to make a place to race. If a jockey fell too far behind he just cut across the field to catch up. Often jockeys were caught up in the starting net that was stretched across the track. When the starter jerked up the net the race started. Many times the net was not raised high enough and you would be thrown to the ground. This was a rough game, but as an aspiring jockey you had to start someplace. There were few regulations and no one to enforce them. The goal was to win any way you could.
The jockey had many ways to slow down the competition. A jerk or hanging on to the leader's saddle blanket was a favorite. Grabbing the tail of the lead horse was also a good trick. A vicious cut, with the riding crop, to a rider or his horse would break strides and cause injury. Pushing horses into the rail, bumping and intentional blocking was common in all races.
Some of these tactics went on in the 1940's. I was lucky, we played the game pretty straight, but, when you were behind and away from observers, things did happen.
As I read the book "Seabiscuit" by Laura Hillenbrand, I recalled those days and some of her descriptions made chills run up and down my spine. The sculpture, "Hay Stack Racing," depicts some of the antics of the unruly game of horse racing in the 30's and 40's.
Johnson's Dilemma
Choteau, Mont. -
A bizarre, dramatic rescue of Eliga Johnson, age 78 took place late Friday afternoon in the mountains north of Choteau, MT. Johnson was rescued after being critically injured by two grizzly bears in a fight that took place on Wednesday morning just before dawn. The herder is recuperating in the Deaconess Hospital from multiple broken bones, cuts and puncture wounds.
The rescue was made by local searchers at a sheep camp located about 30 miles south of Dupuyer on the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness.
Searchers from Choteau, Fairfield and Dupuyer participated in locating Johnson and transporting him to Choteau and then, by ambulance, to the Great Falls hospital.
The story of the incident was pieced together by the rescuers and some information revealed in Johnson's own account.
The story began on Tuesday, October 14, when Charley Henderson, of the A.B.Norris Ranch, was in Johnson's camp and informed Johnson he would return on Friday to begin the move of the band of sheep and Johnson down to the main ranch for winter.
Johnson was awakened just before dawn, Wednesday, by barking dogs and sheep bells. In the dim light, Johnson saw two grizzlies and fired his rifle at them to run them off.
One of the bears apparently raised on his hind legs as Johnson fired, was hit in the chest and knocked to the ground. The second bear attacked Johnson and ran him two hundred yards from the camp where Johnson fell over a cutbank into a dry creek bed.
Firing his rifle repeatedly, the attacking bear was killed, falling on Johnson's leg, breaking it and pinning him to the ground.
The mortally wounded bear recovered enough to tear up the sheep wagon and then proceeded to where his companion and Johnson lay. Johnson was out of ammunition and had broken the stock off his rifle when he fell. As the bear began his attack Johnson's dogs did their best to detour the animal, with one of them losing his life.
Johnson grabbed his rifle by the barrel and swinging the "weapon" with all his strength, hit the bear. The trigger of the old thirty-thirty buried itself into the skull of the mortally wounded bear, stunning him. The thrashing bear fell forward onto Johnson, covering him and died.
The warm bodies of the dead foe reduced Johnson's risk of shock. When the rescuers rolled the four hundred pound bear off Johnson he was conscious long enough to ask "Tis Friday?" One of the rescuers answered, "yes, Johnson, tis Friday."
Foot Notes: unpublished accounts
When the camp tender arrived on Friday, the 17th of October, seeing the destroyed sheep camp, he knew there was trouble and immediately drove to Choteau for help and also called Dupuyer. Henderson remarked, "you don't go scouting around when grizzlies have been in camp."
Johnson's remaining dog had kept the sheep together east of the camp and had kept a close vigil on Johnson for those three days. She led us to where Johnson and the bears lay when we began our search. When we first saw the dead bears we were not aware Johnson was even there. It was a shock to find him at all, and to find him alive was a miracle.
Johnson recovered, roomed in Choteau that winter, ate two meals a day at the Blue Bird Cafe and returned to his job in the spring.
A bizarre, dramatic rescue of Eliga Johnson, age 78 took place late Friday afternoon in the mountains north of Choteau, MT. Johnson was rescued after being critically injured by two grizzly bears in a fight that took place on Wednesday morning just before dawn. The herder is recuperating in the Deaconess Hospital from multiple broken bones, cuts and puncture wounds.
The rescue was made by local searchers at a sheep camp located about 30 miles south of Dupuyer on the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness.
Searchers from Choteau, Fairfield and Dupuyer participated in locating Johnson and transporting him to Choteau and then, by ambulance, to the Great Falls hospital.
The story of the incident was pieced together by the rescuers and some information revealed in Johnson's own account.
The story began on Tuesday, October 14, when Charley Henderson, of the A.B.Norris Ranch, was in Johnson's camp and informed Johnson he would return on Friday to begin the move of the band of sheep and Johnson down to the main ranch for winter.
Johnson was awakened just before dawn, Wednesday, by barking dogs and sheep bells. In the dim light, Johnson saw two grizzlies and fired his rifle at them to run them off.
One of the bears apparently raised on his hind legs as Johnson fired, was hit in the chest and knocked to the ground. The second bear attacked Johnson and ran him two hundred yards from the camp where Johnson fell over a cutbank into a dry creek bed.
Firing his rifle repeatedly, the attacking bear was killed, falling on Johnson's leg, breaking it and pinning him to the ground.
The mortally wounded bear recovered enough to tear up the sheep wagon and then proceeded to where his companion and Johnson lay. Johnson was out of ammunition and had broken the stock off his rifle when he fell. As the bear began his attack Johnson's dogs did their best to detour the animal, with one of them losing his life.
Johnson grabbed his rifle by the barrel and swinging the "weapon" with all his strength, hit the bear. The trigger of the old thirty-thirty buried itself into the skull of the mortally wounded bear, stunning him. The thrashing bear fell forward onto Johnson, covering him and died.
The warm bodies of the dead foe reduced Johnson's risk of shock. When the rescuers rolled the four hundred pound bear off Johnson he was conscious long enough to ask "Tis Friday?" One of the rescuers answered, "yes, Johnson, tis Friday."
Foot Notes: unpublished accounts
When the camp tender arrived on Friday, the 17th of October, seeing the destroyed sheep camp, he knew there was trouble and immediately drove to Choteau for help and also called Dupuyer. Henderson remarked, "you don't go scouting around when grizzlies have been in camp."
Johnson's remaining dog had kept the sheep together east of the camp and had kept a close vigil on Johnson for those three days. She led us to where Johnson and the bears lay when we began our search. When we first saw the dead bears we were not aware Johnson was even there. It was a shock to find him at all, and to find him alive was a miracle.
Johnson recovered, roomed in Choteau that winter, ate two meals a day at the Blue Bird Cafe and returned to his job in the spring.
A Grizzly Moment
The True Story of a Montana Hunter
The fall came early in 1949 and the colors were as golden and red as you will ever see. The elk were bugling and the long mellow calls in the evening stirred every hunters' anxious heart.
Les had been waiting for the season to open. The meat house at the ranch was almost empty and with winter coming, an elk would save one steer that could go to market.
Day hunts were Les's favorite. Rising before daylight, saddling the packers with the old sawbucks took only a short time, and the ride to the top of the mountain was underway. The main elk herd was bunched up about a mile down into the Swan Valley and was easily spotted from Rocky Ridge.
Les tied the horses in a small grove of aspen and proceeded on foot to where he could get a good shot. A large bull stepped out of the trees about a hundred yards ahead. Les took aim and fired. The six-point bull went down. What a trophy rack for the lodge! After fetching the horses and the gear, Les quartered the big elk and loaded him up.
The lead packer carried the two hindquarters and the butcher gear. Les tied the rack over the front quarters of the second packer, mounted up, and headed for the top of the mountain. It was late afternoon when the group reached the top of the mountain. Les knew that it would be dark by the time he got home, but the lateness did not present a problem.
As they topped Rocky Ridge, the horses became edgy and the downed timber looked foreboding in the twilight. Suddenly, out of nowhere, shear terror burst onto the scene. Six hundred pounds of grizzly was tearing at the hindquarter of elk on the lead packer. In a flash he was gone, literally propelling the prize trophy through the air and out of sight.
The hunter had all the excitement he could handle for one day. The nervous horses headed downhill for the barn at a fair clip.
Relax time was coming and Les could hardly wait.
The fall came early in 1949 and the colors were as golden and red as you will ever see. The elk were bugling and the long mellow calls in the evening stirred every hunters' anxious heart.
Les had been waiting for the season to open. The meat house at the ranch was almost empty and with winter coming, an elk would save one steer that could go to market.
Day hunts were Les's favorite. Rising before daylight, saddling the packers with the old sawbucks took only a short time, and the ride to the top of the mountain was underway. The main elk herd was bunched up about a mile down into the Swan Valley and was easily spotted from Rocky Ridge.
Les tied the horses in a small grove of aspen and proceeded on foot to where he could get a good shot. A large bull stepped out of the trees about a hundred yards ahead. Les took aim and fired. The six-point bull went down. What a trophy rack for the lodge! After fetching the horses and the gear, Les quartered the big elk and loaded him up.
The lead packer carried the two hindquarters and the butcher gear. Les tied the rack over the front quarters of the second packer, mounted up, and headed for the top of the mountain. It was late afternoon when the group reached the top of the mountain. Les knew that it would be dark by the time he got home, but the lateness did not present a problem.
As they topped Rocky Ridge, the horses became edgy and the downed timber looked foreboding in the twilight. Suddenly, out of nowhere, shear terror burst onto the scene. Six hundred pounds of grizzly was tearing at the hindquarter of elk on the lead packer. In a flash he was gone, literally propelling the prize trophy through the air and out of sight.
The hunter had all the excitement he could handle for one day. The nervous horses headed downhill for the barn at a fair clip.
Relax time was coming and Les could hardly wait.
Fly Fisherman
Every fly fisherman has stood waist deep in a slow moving stream and hooked into a helpless situation. The crafty old brown trout took the streamer and knew he was in trouble. This had happened before and he knew what to do. A quick jump on the surface and he lunged straight down, behind the reeds and then a quick loop around his favorite old log, and there he sat. I could see him, he looked like a whale although he was probably a five pounder.
Fishing has always been a part of Montana's heritage. From the Clark Fork of "A River Runs Through It" to the mighty Missouri River country, fishing in Montana has become world famous.
In recent years, the fly fisherman has become a common sight on the rivers and streams all over the region. The westslope cutthroat which are famous in the Flathead River drainage attract avid fly fishers from all corners of the world.
Here, in "Up the Creek", Bob captures in bronze the action and excitement of catching a nice sized trout on a fly.
Fishing has always been a part of Montana's heritage. From the Clark Fork of "A River Runs Through It" to the mighty Missouri River country, fishing in Montana has become world famous.
In recent years, the fly fisherman has become a common sight on the rivers and streams all over the region. The westslope cutthroat which are famous in the Flathead River drainage attract avid fly fishers from all corners of the world.
Here, in "Up the Creek", Bob captures in bronze the action and excitement of catching a nice sized trout on a fly.
Ed's Silver Streamer
Many of my customers have asked me during our visits about my free time. Well, there just doesn't seem to be much of it. So... in 1995 I decided if I wanted to get in some recreation, fishing that is, I would have to get someone close to me to do it for me. Out of the world of imagination came "Ed." Ed and I talked about all the things we would do as I made his nose, formed his ears, and fit his glasses. Ed said to me, "Have me hookin' up a streamer." At our age, tying the ol' leader to a fly gets a little tedious. I told Ed that a bronze fly wouldn't look too good. "Make it silver, I'd like that," he said. So I did and .. "Ed's Silver Streamer" was born I'm very pleased that Ed's Silver Streamer was judged "Best Sculpture" at the 1996 C.M. Russell Auction and Art Show, the oldest western art show in America - Ed's been patient with me and he deserved it.
Price of Honor
The prize object for a young Indian Brave to obtain was a tail feather from a Bald Eagle.
The obtaining of the feather was accomplished in many different ways. The most common was to build a false nest over a shallow pit. The young Indian would trap a rabbit and tie it to the top of the nest. The boy would then crawl into the pit, under the nest, and wait for the eagle to come and snatch the rabbit. The young Indian would then reach through the nest and grab the eagle by the leg and reach up with the other hand and pluck a feather from the tail.
However, the true test of bravery was to face the eagle in the open. This bronze, "Price of Honor", shows a young brave who has climbed to the nesting eagle to snatch a tail feather. Things did not always go as planned and sometimes the eagle had the advantage. This young Blackfoot will pay the price with a short fall and no tail feather.
The obtaining of the feather was accomplished in many different ways. The most common was to build a false nest over a shallow pit. The young Indian would trap a rabbit and tie it to the top of the nest. The boy would then crawl into the pit, under the nest, and wait for the eagle to come and snatch the rabbit. The young Indian would then reach through the nest and grab the eagle by the leg and reach up with the other hand and pluck a feather from the tail.
However, the true test of bravery was to face the eagle in the open. This bronze, "Price of Honor", shows a young brave who has climbed to the nesting eagle to snatch a tail feather. Things did not always go as planned and sometimes the eagle had the advantage. This young Blackfoot will pay the price with a short fall and no tail feather.
Blackfoot Fan Dancer
Ceremonial events were an important part of the social life of Native Americans and the fan dance of the Blackfoot women was a powerful ceremony filled with emotion for all those who attended.
The animal hide dresses, primarily deer or elk, take months to create. The same is true of the beadwork that adorns her neck. The fan is a token of great importance and power and likely handed down from mother to daughter.
Fan Dancers were the most powerful women of the tribe, especially at the times of dance. No wonder they had a bit of attitude. Once their beautiful long hair was oiled and wrapped with otter skins, they must have felt the fullness of their sensual powers.
The daily drudgery of life and living is replaced for a few hours with the power and majesty of the Fan Dance. All the eyes of their tribe are riveted on them.
The animal hide dresses, primarily deer or elk, take months to create. The same is true of the beadwork that adorns her neck. The fan is a token of great importance and power and likely handed down from mother to daughter.
Fan Dancers were the most powerful women of the tribe, especially at the times of dance. No wonder they had a bit of attitude. Once their beautiful long hair was oiled and wrapped with otter skins, they must have felt the fullness of their sensual powers.
The daily drudgery of life and living is replaced for a few hours with the power and majesty of the Fan Dance. All the eyes of their tribe are riveted on them.
Awaiting the Return
- Awaiting The Return
First Vison: Long ago a young brave went to the highplace and in vision, asked the great spirit, "Where did the buffalo come from?"
"I have removed some stones, opened a hole in the ground and let them out onto the prairie to feed and clothe you, a gift from Mother Earth," replied the Great Spirit.
Second Vison: As an old chief he went back to the mountain and in vision asked, "Great Spirit, where have all the buffalo gone?" "Mother Earth has taken them back. The whitemen have driven them to the ground," said the Great One. The old chief knew in his mind the intruders had found the hole, driven the buffalo into the ground and replaced the stones.
The Reservation Years: When the old chief and his people were cold and hungry they went in search of, and found, the stones. They removed them, and there below were the buffalo running in a circle. "Come out! Feed and clothe my people!" Shouted the old chief. But the buffalo had no ears to hear and they had no way to ever return to the prairie again.
The Present: If you go to the place of the stones, stand there in the twilight, and if you believe in the Great Spirit, listen carefully. ou will hear the thunder of the hooves and the bellow of the buffalo as they fight to return to the land of the Eagle.
First Vison: Long ago a young brave went to the highplace and in vision, asked the great spirit, "Where did the buffalo come from?"
"I have removed some stones, opened a hole in the ground and let them out onto the prairie to feed and clothe you, a gift from Mother Earth," replied the Great Spirit.
Second Vison: As an old chief he went back to the mountain and in vision asked, "Great Spirit, where have all the buffalo gone?" "Mother Earth has taken them back. The whitemen have driven them to the ground," said the Great One. The old chief knew in his mind the intruders had found the hole, driven the buffalo into the ground and replaced the stones.
The Reservation Years: When the old chief and his people were cold and hungry they went in search of, and found, the stones. They removed them, and there below were the buffalo running in a circle. "Come out! Feed and clothe my people!" Shouted the old chief. But the buffalo had no ears to hear and they had no way to ever return to the prairie again.
The Present: If you go to the place of the stones, stand there in the twilight, and if you believe in the Great Spirit, listen carefully. ou will hear the thunder of the hooves and the bellow of the buffalo as they fight to return to the land of the Eagle.
Dove
A Sioux Love Story
Courting is a serious ritual for a young warrior. The selection of a wife is a task that takes careful planning and a great deal of effort. He not only has to capture the heart of a young maiden, but he has to gain the consent of the girl's father.
Haggling over her value may take many days. The more handsome she is, the more she will cost. Eventually a payment of horses, robes and other fine items will be agreed upon to complete the deal.
The young brave in this bronze is courting with his flute. Before arriving to his present position, he had mounted his finest horse and ridden through the village, stirring the dust and shouting to gain the attention of the young maiden. He has ridden to the edge of the village, seated himself on a large rock, speaks to the spirits and begins to play love songs on his flute.
If the young woman is not interested in his advances, she will pay no attention to him. If she is curious, she will stand at a distance and listen. The maiden in the sculpture is attracted and has brought him a gift of an eagle feather, the finest gift she can give, to say, "Go and speak to my father."
The words he has spoken to the spirits of his grandfathers are cut into the sandstone rock upon which he is seated.
"Oh how I play my magic flute
The haunting tones of love.
Oh how I play my magic flute
To call my waiting dove."
~Bob Stayton
Courting is a serious ritual for a young warrior. The selection of a wife is a task that takes careful planning and a great deal of effort. He not only has to capture the heart of a young maiden, but he has to gain the consent of the girl's father.
Haggling over her value may take many days. The more handsome she is, the more she will cost. Eventually a payment of horses, robes and other fine items will be agreed upon to complete the deal.
The young brave in this bronze is courting with his flute. Before arriving to his present position, he had mounted his finest horse and ridden through the village, stirring the dust and shouting to gain the attention of the young maiden. He has ridden to the edge of the village, seated himself on a large rock, speaks to the spirits and begins to play love songs on his flute.
If the young woman is not interested in his advances, she will pay no attention to him. If she is curious, she will stand at a distance and listen. The maiden in the sculpture is attracted and has brought him a gift of an eagle feather, the finest gift she can give, to say, "Go and speak to my father."
The words he has spoken to the spirits of his grandfathers are cut into the sandstone rock upon which he is seated.
"Oh how I play my magic flute
The haunting tones of love.
Oh how I play my magic flute
To call my waiting dove."
~Bob Stayton
Vision Seakers-I
A Sculpture of a Sioux Ceremony
The Sioux called Vision Seeking "crying or lamenting." It was a ritualistic way of praying which was very important and stood at the center of their religion, for from it they received many "good things." -- From "The Sacred Pipe" by Brown.
The sculpture "Vision Seekers" depicts a young brave receiving assistance in establishing visions to guide his life. A warrior must have a revelation to be fulfilled and completed. The young man has been unsuccessful in the past and has petitioned the male members of his Sioux family to help him.
He has climbed to this high place with his father and grandfather to perform the vision rites. Before coming to this sacred location, the Indians have bathed, cleansed themselves meticulously, and purified their bodies with the smoke from the pine needle and sage. They have painted their bodies with white clay to show their purity.
The paintings of white clay on the young man's body depict the sign of the great bear on the right of his chest. Rings of bondage circle each thigh and a half painted face shows the great spirit he is only half fulfilled. Strokes of white on the father's face and back shows the great one he is pure. A painted sun on the back of the grandfather protects an old lance wound from opening during stressful prayer.
The father holds the sacred skull of the buffalo toward the life giving sun. Grandfather offers up the pipe of peace and brotherhood to the "one-above." The young brave beats to the rhythm of his pulse on a ceremonial drum, accompanying the sacred sounds of song.
The family group has brought a sacred buffalo hide on which to pray. They first laid a layer of flat rocks on which to spread the hide. The huge robe is said to have the spirit of the great bear and the mighty eagle captured in the matted curls of the cape.
Four days of fasting and praying have produced the results depicted on the base of the sculpture. The young man's life is now fulfilled and he can go forth with confidence.
Sculptor's Remarks about this bronze:
Many people have asked why the figures have no eyes. I took away the subject's eyes because they are "out of body" and "In Spirit." The spirit of the "Great Bear" and the "Mighty Eagle" are in the curl of the cape.
The Sioux called Vision Seeking "crying or lamenting." It was a ritualistic way of praying which was very important and stood at the center of their religion, for from it they received many "good things." -- From "The Sacred Pipe" by Brown.
The sculpture "Vision Seekers" depicts a young brave receiving assistance in establishing visions to guide his life. A warrior must have a revelation to be fulfilled and completed. The young man has been unsuccessful in the past and has petitioned the male members of his Sioux family to help him.
He has climbed to this high place with his father and grandfather to perform the vision rites. Before coming to this sacred location, the Indians have bathed, cleansed themselves meticulously, and purified their bodies with the smoke from the pine needle and sage. They have painted their bodies with white clay to show their purity.
The paintings of white clay on the young man's body depict the sign of the great bear on the right of his chest. Rings of bondage circle each thigh and a half painted face shows the great spirit he is only half fulfilled. Strokes of white on the father's face and back shows the great one he is pure. A painted sun on the back of the grandfather protects an old lance wound from opening during stressful prayer.
The father holds the sacred skull of the buffalo toward the life giving sun. Grandfather offers up the pipe of peace and brotherhood to the "one-above." The young brave beats to the rhythm of his pulse on a ceremonial drum, accompanying the sacred sounds of song.
The family group has brought a sacred buffalo hide on which to pray. They first laid a layer of flat rocks on which to spread the hide. The huge robe is said to have the spirit of the great bear and the mighty eagle captured in the matted curls of the cape.
Four days of fasting and praying have produced the results depicted on the base of the sculpture. The young man's life is now fulfilled and he can go forth with confidence.
Sculptor's Remarks about this bronze:
Many people have asked why the figures have no eyes. I took away the subject's eyes because they are "out of body" and "In Spirit." The spirit of the "Great Bear" and the "Mighty Eagle" are in the curl of the cape.
Vision Seakers-II
The Visions
These bronze sculptures go around the base of the larger piece. They tell the story of the work and represent each of the visions along with a name plate and a signature plate for the piece. Of all the work I've done, this is one I am especially pleased with. There is a lot of "meat" in this piece which makes it perfect for the collector who values work with a significant story to tell.
From the title plate "Vision Seekers" move left to right around the base of the sculpture.
Vision One: The buffalo is our life. Without the buffalo our way and life is no more. We are part buffalo. The buffalo is part of us. If an enemy destroys the buffalo, he destroys us.
Vision Two: Your first child will be as you. The mighty eagle will darken the sky with his wings. He will snatch the boy in his beak and carry him to the sun and return to be his protector in life.
Vision Three: You will be a brave warrior and leader. You must never attack an enemy with your face into the sun or you will become blind and then die.
Signature Plate: Sioux bow and quiver, moccasins, signature of sculptor and issue data.
Vision Four: Beware of a woman with the nose of a raven, hair of a bear and a mouth that speaks in flames of evil. Do not look into her eye or the serpent will capture you forever.
Vision Five: The great bear that came on the day of your birth, now comes again. His spirit will put down your enemies and hold you, protected, high in his hand.
Vision Six: Take the fox as your guide and helper. His cunning is your cunning. In one hand be prepared for war and in the other be cunning in the ways of peace.
May the "Great Spirit" grant your visions and give you peace.
These bronze sculptures go around the base of the larger piece. They tell the story of the work and represent each of the visions along with a name plate and a signature plate for the piece. Of all the work I've done, this is one I am especially pleased with. There is a lot of "meat" in this piece which makes it perfect for the collector who values work with a significant story to tell.
From the title plate "Vision Seekers" move left to right around the base of the sculpture.
Vision One: The buffalo is our life. Without the buffalo our way and life is no more. We are part buffalo. The buffalo is part of us. If an enemy destroys the buffalo, he destroys us.
Vision Two: Your first child will be as you. The mighty eagle will darken the sky with his wings. He will snatch the boy in his beak and carry him to the sun and return to be his protector in life.
Vision Three: You will be a brave warrior and leader. You must never attack an enemy with your face into the sun or you will become blind and then die.
Signature Plate: Sioux bow and quiver, moccasins, signature of sculptor and issue data.
Vision Four: Beware of a woman with the nose of a raven, hair of a bear and a mouth that speaks in flames of evil. Do not look into her eye or the serpent will capture you forever.
Vision Five: The great bear that came on the day of your birth, now comes again. His spirit will put down your enemies and hold you, protected, high in his hand.
Vision Six: Take the fox as your guide and helper. His cunning is your cunning. In one hand be prepared for war and in the other be cunning in the ways of peace.
May the "Great Spirit" grant your visions and give you peace.
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