FYI brought the topic of mentoring within families to members of various Native American communities in upstate New York. Asking what they learned from their forebears and what they taught younger generations, Kate Wilson culled and edited the responses (by phone or email) from the following five artists.

Marcella Bowen, 78 years old and a member of the Seneca Nation, made her living selling corn husk dolls.

I learned doll making from my mother. I don’t know where she learned it from; all the ladies would just get together and do it. A man used to bring a whole bus load [of tourists] to her house. We had a little store, a little stand, on Old Route 280. She made a good living off of it, selling to all the people in the park. That was before everybody had to move away on account of the dam, when they took our lands away.

My mother encouraged my sister and me to learn how to make the dolls. My mother always said, "Keep it up." It’s nothing spiritual, not for me. You just have to get out and work.

I used to teach little girls to make the dolls. Once in awhile my granddaughter would have a class at the Iroquois National Museum, and I would go there. Once in awhile I teach my great grandchildren. You have to go out in the fields when they start harvesting the white corn. On another reservation, a man gives the husks to me when he’s harvesting his corn. I’ve been using husks from the sweet corn, but that’s kind of thin. The white corn is the best. Recently I said, "I’m getting too old for this." But I still make little dolls. I make angels too. I put wings on my corn husk dolls. It’s good for Christmas.

John Fadden is a painter from the Mohawk Nation at Akwasasne.

My father and my mother encouraged my interest in art as long as I can remember, to the point where they paid for my tuition to attend art school. My father taught me simply by providing a good example. The business side of art wasn’t emphasized.

The primary subject matter of my paintings and drawings is of things emanating from Native American culture, particularly the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois Confederacy). I learned this from my father, from my mother, and from other elders within the Mohawk community of Akwasasne.

I think painting has more to do with being human, but my being Native American and the fact that my parents ran a Native American museum and educated people about Native Americans had an obvious influence.

I didn’t try to influence my son in art. My three sons were exposed to my efforts and to the accomplishments of my father in beadwork. Plus, they were exposed to the woodworking capabilities of their mother’s father, and the fact that their mother’s mother produced black ash splint baskets, not to mention that their own mother carved figures from wood. In our house, the materials were readily available.

Joanne Shenandoah, an Oneida of the Iroquois Confederacy, writes, performs and records original songs.

We come from a long line of parents who are mentors. My mother, Maisie, was also a singer. She’s a clan mother, which means she’s responsible for the political social welfare of the people. My Dad focused on more contemporary music, such as big band, jazz, and blues, but at the same time, as a sub-Chief, was very proud of his culture. My family would go around to schools and do different presentations, telling our audiences about Native American culture, showing some of our dances and our songs, telling our legends and stories. So both my parents were instrumental in having me on stage from a very young age. At about four or five years old, I was named "She Sings." My most memorable moments with my parents were when we were singing. We would sit down and play guitar—whoever came over, we would bring out the guitar. "Joanne we want you to sing!" I’d be the entertainment for our guests.

Iroquois people believe that everyone has been born with a special gift or talent, from the creator to you. We see it not as a talent, but as a responsibility. Just as the birds have a responsibility on this earth—the birds, the moon, the sun—every element has a responsibility to carry out. And a major part of that responsibility would be that gift or that talent. [See www.joanneshenandoah.com for more about her achievements.]

Trudi George-Huff, a member of the Onondaga Nation, is a stone carver married to a stone carver and mother of two artist sons.

My grandmothers and my aunts did quilting and sewing and stuff. But we were still at an age when we were just running underneath the looms. We were there when they were doing it, we got to see them work and got to see the finished product, but we weren’t actually quilting.

My parents died when we were young. Later I came across some of my father’s papers with sketches, so I knew he was artistically inclined. On my mother’s side of the family, my uncles all draw and paint. My family gave me exposure to pencil and paper, because in terms of affording materials that was the easier thing for them to get for us.

My kids kind of knew what they wanted to do. I provided paper and pencils. My younger son used to be interested in comic books, and that’s where he learned to draw anatomy. I call that "self-taught."

To me, it’s genetic, because my uncles drew, my father drew, and my kids draw. It went down the line. It’s also "generational," from grandparents who pass it down to grandchildren, if you’re lucky to have grandparents. I think there has to be something within the family that encourages you to do what you do.

[I don’t mentor since] I’m late in my years here. My form of art is more like a therapy for me. I think it’s peoples’ "eye of the mind"—to be able to concentrate and be able to create.

Clint Shenandoah, son of Trudi George-Huff, is a "painter by trade."

My father was a painter, until after I was born; then he stopped painting. I used to watch him paint when I was younger. My grandmother, now passed on, used to keep all my artwork, what I did in school. She encouraged me a lot. My brother and I started out by tracing these Marvel comics on our trailer windows. We’d sit there for hours. Eventually we were able to draw them on our own. I’d say our parents encouraged us just by buying us pencils and comic books: "Here you go. Here’s the stuff." Drawing kept us quiet, I guess—we weren’t breaking things. They never said, "You have to do it this way or that way."

My grandfather [Leon Shenandoah, then Head Chief for the Six Nations] taught me most of the traditional ways of life, which directly influenced my work, and still does. He was the key player in my pursuit of artwork, because his teaching—it wasn’t really his, because it was handed down to him—but his wisdom inspired me to look at things differently. In our worldview all objects are alive, and can come alive. I take it a step further. I believe that my paintings are alive, in the sense that I created them. It’s not making nature better, just making it different.

My grandfather didn’t say anything directly about my shows, just that he liked how they "felt"—that’s how he said it—and he liked the colors. He enjoyed looking at them. He didn’t quite understand them, and I didn’t need to explain them.

I have a painting on my wall right now that’s a 1968 painting by my father. I remember it, as a child, hanging on our wall. Later he sold it, and eventually [the owners] gave it back to me, because I really liked it. This painting has a lot of colors I use in my own work—vibrant colors. I have a lot of connection to it. That one painting would be my direct link to my father’s painting days.

I feel that art has—I hate saying "art’—creating works of art has been a spiritual, a healing thing for me. Right now I’m a drug and alcohol counselor, and a lot of what I was taught is what I’m teaching. Art translates over to counseling: it has a lot to do with wellness and wellbeing.

I think culture should be encouraged more, especially among Native American young people. They have so much ability within painting, dance, and other things. It’s not fostered enough. Here, there’s no real building where children can go and learn about art. There’s no real "place" for it, so to speak.

Thanks to Najwa Adra of NYFA, Sheldon Gibson, and Midge Dean Stock for contacts.