A Seat in the Studio Part I
In preparation for K Art’s represented artist, G. Peter Jemison’s retrospective Ga’nigöh:yoh, the past weeks have been a whirlwind of excitement. From visiting his studio to selecting work, each moment that passes has been more than just a learning experience – it becomes a memory in yellow. I’ve spent time working with Mr. Jemison over this past summer. Despite all that we have talked about, it is difficult finding the words to justify his notoriety in the development and representation of contemporary Native arts beyond the borders of New York City. However, his significant contributions to this movement have long gone unnoticed. It is only appropriate that we honor his lifetime of work and achievements the best way we can.
In early August, I sat with Peter and his assistant Gabriele in his home and asked him questions about his relationship with art, transitions from location to location, and much more. I discovered he is a born storyteller, and it is clear that his words flow into his artistic process with each autonomous piece. Three specific works have left a profound impact on me, and I’d at a later date, I’d like to share them with you. For now, what I think is crucial to understanding his work is listening beyond his artistic experience. Of course, I cannot scribble my entire conversation with this pioneer, but there are a few notes from that day that shine a light on his earlier curatorial work.
In the 1970s, New York City was experiencing a new wave of artistic experimentation, vocalizing new waves of political activism, societal issues, and questions of identity. These years also saw a growth in Native American exposure with Lloyd Oxendine opening the American Art Gallery in 1972, the first gallery exclusively exhibiting contemporary work by active Native artists, and G. Peter Jemison becoming the curator and director of the newly established gallery at the American Indian Community House in 1978. Unbeknownst to these two artists, alongside Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, George Morrison, and Leon Polk Smith, the formation of the New York Contemporary Native Art Movement would find footing and allow the city to experience the perspective of a marginalized and misrepresented community.
Before the ’70s and ’80s, the American Indian was portrayed as a primordial foreigner - especially in comparison to the contemporary Western Man - not just in mass media but also in the hands-on non-Native museums. The effects of World War II saw a spike in global culture and art interest, granting populations a sneak peek into how the other side lived. In the absence of Native voices during the ’40s and ’50s, modernist and abstract concepts became exclusive to 20th century Europeans. Native artists who experimented with the same ideas were deemed primitive, naive, and child-like. Often categorized as artifacts, their novel artistic creations and contributions often went unnoticed as the public grew to fetishize and romanticize the American Indian. They desired a subconscious confirmation that the West had advanced and was superior to these ‘past civilizations.’ Even during the rise of Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art, and other movements within NYC that were influenced by Native design and culture, the modern Indian was only seen as a past influence.
With my notebook in one hand and a black pastel in the other, Peter and I talked briefly about the years leading up to his time in NYC and his position as Gallery Director and Curator at the American Indian Community House (AICH). In the late ’60s, he had just recently been let go from an art supply shop. With no income, he relied on the help of a neighbor, who offered him meals to get by. He would leave the city and explore the likes of San Francisco and Buffalo, only to return in 1971. Now living in Schenectady, he would drive down to NYC and help Lloyd Oxendine with the American Art Gallery, finding himself living in the gallery. These years also saw a rise in Indigenous power both nationally and abroad. During our chat, Peter mentioned a call to action within the Iroquois community to be more traditional. This calling and the rise of the American Indian Movement (AIM), the Occupation of Wounded Knee in 1973, and the effects of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1960s pushed the artist to think critically of his own identity. “What does it mean to be Seneca?” he said. “What does it mean to me?” There was little talk of the Seneca or Native people in general, both in the city and Schenectady. Eventually, with the helping hands of numerous individuals, Peter was able to come to his own.
The AICH became the central Native social services organization in New York City and welcomed its new director in 1978. From then until 1985, Peter’s mission was to bolster and highlight contemporary Native Americans and their artistic inventions. In David Bunn Maritine’s No Reservation: New York Contemporary Native Art Movement, he quotes Peter, who writes:
“My particular interest was in work that came from an individual’s interpretation, if you will, of their tradition, of their experience, of their background, you know. How did that influence their art? What was it that they felt compelled to convey?”
This curatorial mindset was crucial for contemporary arts because while the Community House had the space for Indigenous inclusion, Peter’s vision centered on the individual. It is about embracing one’s importance and acknowledging one’s personal history that increases the value of an artwork. Indeed, this was a great deal for the Native identity, but more profound than that, it was a massive victory for representing cultural art forms. The artist was seen first and foremost as an artist rather than their culture - rejecting past notions of tokenism and racism. And this voice wasn’t limited to the North American, as Peter even curated a show surrounding Peruvian and Bolivian weaving.
Alongside Oxendine’s American Art Gallery, the AICH’s Gallery/Museum helped progressive Native representation and the true nature of the Indigenous image. Now Native Americans could speak and provide platforms for others to share their voices and express themselves. Through exhibitions, receptions, and networking, Peter gained a respectful reputation amongst his peers, and his opinions were always sought after - even during times when he did not live in NYC. In his seven years of directing, he moved the gallery not once but twice to accommodate and expose the artworks and the artists. Mounting more than 35 exhibitions, Peter did more than commence the deconstruction of the romanticized idol; he introduced many Native American and First People’s artists to the New York scene, and vice versa. It is genuine bewilderment why these progressions have not been written about in detail or studied further in the canon of American art history.
New York City was still a melting pot after all. Apart from curation, Jemison was still an active artist - fusing the connections between artistic modernism of the ’70s with his interpretations of identity and culture. As one of the few pioneers for representational growth for Natives living in the Big Apple, G. Peter Jemison achieved infinite greatness and continues to thrive. Our efforts to showcase a large variety of his works are a small attempt to broadcast how significant his work has been and still is. The selected works for his October retrospective, Ga’nigöi:yoh, are a survey of trials, triumphs, and tribulations from his time in NYC and other cities across the US.
Join us on October 22nd as we celebrate his oeuvre with an artistic analysis of some of his most profound work.
To be continued