(Warning: this sentiment is probably something that bloggers *think* about posting a lot, but don't actually do!)
I've been looking back on my older posts, all the way back to the beginning of the project (May, 2008), and am struck by how much ground is covered, and how much more of the journey there is to go. I'm reminded that the project has grown organically, from my own interests, the encouragement and cooperation of many good folks, and just plain luck.
Long live Project-Based Learning!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Mickey and Baba
I wanted this project to have a focus that’s tied to where I am now—Southwestern Minnesota and the culture of the drum in Lakota—while also wanting to widen my focus at some point to include the role of the drum in worldwide culture. As I gather sources together on these global aspects of the drum, I experience a musical treat. Listening to Mickey Hart’s album “Planet Drum” gives me a peek, a wider view, into the use of drums in the wide variety of cultures that span the globe. On this album, Hart, the long time co-drummer for the Grateful Dead, and ethnomusicologist and drum researcher in his own right, brought together great percussion players from cultures around the world--India, Africa, South America, and the Middle East—to create a drum and percussion only album. It’s awesome listening. The liner notes indicate some of the ideas that Hart is trying to convey—that drumming is old, and is considered a sacred and connecting force among people and cultures.
In the liner notes to the Planet Drum CD, Hart says something meaningful about drum’s legacy of furthering humanity’s creative impulse; he wanted to reflect “the countless ways devised by humans over time to make rhythm and noise….there is no end to the variety and expanse of percussion instruments, and no limit to the sound and rhythms which those instruments make possible.” I’m impressed by Hart’s words here, and in his emphasis on sound, rhythm, and even an outlook on eternity, in humanity’s attachment to rhythm. While talking about the inspiration for the “Temple Caves” song, I like that he connects drumming and rhythm to an ancient and imaginary world where the roots of musical rhythm first took hold, in prehistoric dancers doing a ritual dance in a cave, playing the cave’s rock formations as percussion instruments. That drums are used in ritual and spiritual ways is a thread that is woven throughout the stories of drumming that I’ve read, and Hart keys into that here.
I’m also going to read parts of the companion book to the CD, which explores the history of the drum in more depth. In my book stack is also Babatunde Olatunji’s “The Beat of My Drum: An Autobiography”. Olatunji, from Nigeria, is one of the most famous African percussion players in the world, and was instrumental in bringing African drum rhythms to American popular culture (including the American cultural phenomenon of “drum circles”) in the 50’s and 60’s.
In the liner notes to the Planet Drum CD, Hart says something meaningful about drum’s legacy of furthering humanity’s creative impulse; he wanted to reflect “the countless ways devised by humans over time to make rhythm and noise….there is no end to the variety and expanse of percussion instruments, and no limit to the sound and rhythms which those instruments make possible.” I’m impressed by Hart’s words here, and in his emphasis on sound, rhythm, and even an outlook on eternity, in humanity’s attachment to rhythm. While talking about the inspiration for the “Temple Caves” song, I like that he connects drumming and rhythm to an ancient and imaginary world where the roots of musical rhythm first took hold, in prehistoric dancers doing a ritual dance in a cave, playing the cave’s rock formations as percussion instruments. That drums are used in ritual and spiritual ways is a thread that is woven throughout the stories of drumming that I’ve read, and Hart keys into that here.
I’m also going to read parts of the companion book to the CD, which explores the history of the drum in more depth. In my book stack is also Babatunde Olatunji’s “The Beat of My Drum: An Autobiography”. Olatunji, from Nigeria, is one of the most famous African percussion players in the world, and was instrumental in bringing African drum rhythms to American popular culture (including the American cultural phenomenon of “drum circles”) in the 50’s and 60’s.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Traverse de Sioux Treaty Site History Center
Yesterday, I took a trip to the Treaty Site History Center in St. Peter. While we lived in St. Peter for a year, I never got a chance to go there, so I was looking forward to seeing the exhibits, and wondered how they would tell the story of this area of Minnesota. I also wanted to get my knowledge of the Dakota back up to speed; while we have a pretty good section in our home library on Native American/American Indian topics, I haven't read them in a while. By extension, I thought I could know something of the Lakota and American Indian cultures in general.
It started out as a beautiful, warm-ish day, so I decided to snowshoe through the guided prairie/river trail that had interpretative signs about the treaty that took place here. The Treaty of Traverse de Sioux of 1851 sold the millions of acres of Dakota homelands to the U.S. government. I knew a little bit about the treaty, but after reading some of the signs on the trail, I started to realize that this area is so full of history, that my investigations into Native American culture have to keep the tragedy of colonialism in mind. I also need to recognize my own cultural biases, and try to view the drumming (and singing and dancing, because these, too, are not easily separated) in the context of this often tragic history.
After paying my museum admission to the two polite teenage girls at the counter, I was first greeted with a large room for viewing an excerpt of a documentary about the U.S./Dakota Conflict. It gave me some really good background about the conflict that I had not grasped before; such as how the huge debt that traders in this area (at least) encouraged the Dakota into, forced them into a terrible position to lose their homelands. Also, how through the system of hunka--or adoption of non-Indians into Dakota life with the understanding that the traditional Dakota ways would be followed--more and more interaction and intermarriage happened between the settlers, traders, and Dakota.
In another large room with local history exhibits, I gravitated toward the wall panels that talked about several hallmarks of Dakota society and culture. Of course, knowing my own interests and background, I was very interested in the panel about "Dakota Governance". This talked about how decisions were made communally, through a consensus process. I am always attracted and fascinated by this aspect of Indian society, and I wonder how I might use it in group drumming facilitation sessions. Another panel talked about reciprocity, binding groups of people together through gift-giving.
Overall, seeing these exhibits on an historic treaty (as well as knowing its historic echoes in the hanging of the 38 Dakota in Mankato, the largest mass execution in U.S. history, 10 years after the treaty signing) had an emotional mpact on me. I felt a sense of sadness, a subtle sense of history being repeated in the 21st century, and the question: "what has been lost?". But, this is tempered by my knowledge that the history and traditions of the Dakota (and Lakota) are still being practiced and given voice to today.
It started out as a beautiful, warm-ish day, so I decided to snowshoe through the guided prairie/river trail that had interpretative signs about the treaty that took place here. The Treaty of Traverse de Sioux of 1851 sold the millions of acres of Dakota homelands to the U.S. government. I knew a little bit about the treaty, but after reading some of the signs on the trail, I started to realize that this area is so full of history, that my investigations into Native American culture have to keep the tragedy of colonialism in mind. I also need to recognize my own cultural biases, and try to view the drumming (and singing and dancing, because these, too, are not easily separated) in the context of this often tragic history.
After paying my museum admission to the two polite teenage girls at the counter, I was first greeted with a large room for viewing an excerpt of a documentary about the U.S./Dakota Conflict. It gave me some really good background about the conflict that I had not grasped before; such as how the huge debt that traders in this area (at least) encouraged the Dakota into, forced them into a terrible position to lose their homelands. Also, how through the system of hunka--or adoption of non-Indians into Dakota life with the understanding that the traditional Dakota ways would be followed--more and more interaction and intermarriage happened between the settlers, traders, and Dakota.
In another large room with local history exhibits, I gravitated toward the wall panels that talked about several hallmarks of Dakota society and culture. Of course, knowing my own interests and background, I was very interested in the panel about "Dakota Governance". This talked about how decisions were made communally, through a consensus process. I am always attracted and fascinated by this aspect of Indian society, and I wonder how I might use it in group drumming facilitation sessions. Another panel talked about reciprocity, binding groups of people together through gift-giving.
Overall, seeing these exhibits on an historic treaty (as well as knowing its historic echoes in the hanging of the 38 Dakota in Mankato, the largest mass execution in U.S. history, 10 years after the treaty signing) had an emotional mpact on me. I felt a sense of sadness, a subtle sense of history being repeated in the 21st century, and the question: "what has been lost?". But, this is tempered by my knowledge that the history and traditions of the Dakota (and Lakota) are still being practiced and given voice to today.
Cancega means Drum (Lakota)
Severt Young Bear was a traditional Lakota singer and was respected for his knowledge of traditional Lakota culture; he was also a founder and lead singer for an influential Lakota singing group, the Porcupine Singers (from the Porcupine District of the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota). He co-wrote (along with R. D. Theisz, his friend, fellow Porcupine Singer, and professor at Black Hills State University) the book Standing in the Light: A Lakota Way of Seeing. This book came out of a series of recorded conversations between the two friends; their project was inspired by Young Bear's wish to pass some of his knowledge "of the old ways" to future generations, both Indian and non-Indian. He also talks about his development as a singer and leader among the Lakota. The book has a very concise (5 page) history of the Sioux (of which the Lakota are a part); this helped deepen my understanding of who the Lakota were (and are), and Young Bear's views on his people and their ways, and his place in that society.
The book is an inspiring and positive reflection on a life well-lived. Young Bear's story resonated with me because he often talked about his desire to improve himself as a singer and Lakota man, one who can know the right traditional song for the occasion, and who can also write songs for the occasion. I had many "ah-ha" moments while reading the book, especially from stories and tales that were sad, funny, and optimistic. In my reading, I also realized that the drumming can't be separated from its wider implications: that drumming is a part of the culture of singing and dancing, which plays a special role in keeping the traditional Lakota ways alive. However, the drum is a focal point of the energy behind this--it proivdes the rhythm to the singer and the dancer--which means that it is an instrumental literally) force in maintaining the Lakota identity into the 21st century.
So, I wanted to find out, through Young Bear's story, the meaning, significance, and use of the drum for the Lakota. Here's what I discovered.
Drums, along with the singing of traditional or sacred songs, are used mainly at ceremonies, festivals and dances, and other sacred events. Sometimes a drum was even accorded honors that a person would receive. Young Bear mentions that the drum the Porcupine Singers used for many years was named "The People Hear Its Voice", and it was treated in a reverential way. It received gifts that were usually offered in honor of a warrior or wise elder. Young Bear also relates that hand drums were often used in the home to accompany family members' signing, and that this home-based singing was a way for the family to connect with each other and to work through emotions--off happiness, sadness, anger-whatever the mood was at the time. Unfortunately, Young Bear said, this tradition is no longer prevalent, and that the drum and singing voice has been replaced by the radio in most Lakota homes.
Young Bear talks about the communal and sacred aspects of the drum. The drum was used as a way to communicate, to send messages through a Lakota camp, so that all could hear it, such as to call people to a special event or dance. On the sacred side, the powerful voice of the drum helped the singer go beyond him or herself to reach the Great Spirit with song. This idea resonated with me, because I often feel that sense of connection that the drum brings, of being in a sort of sacred space. He mentions that, traditionally, the drum was also called "the heartbeat of grandmother earth"--the sound that lies within the earth. This is a very apt and powerful image, that speaks to me of the moving and grounding power of the drum, and music in general.
Another literally striking aspect of Lakota drumming is the emphasis on the drumstick. There are types that have a sheepskin or a leather head; some drummers use wooden sticks, and others use sticks made of synthetic materials. Young Bear says that the "serious and dedicated singers take pride in their drumstick"; and that "you can tell the kind of singer by the way he takes care of his drumstick; after all, that's his main equipment." This reminded me of the fact that I had to make my own drum mallets for the group drumming session at the library, and that I taped an old sock to one of them to act as the beater. It's no wonder that it got a lot of laughs when that sock started unravelling in the session!
In many cultures, there are rules about who can play the drum, because of the its use in sacred ceremonies and rituals. In a Lakota community or band, there would usually be someone whose special gift was to make drums for use in ceremonies; this person knew the best time of year to cut down the cottonwood tree, how to correctly shape the drum body, and which skin to use to get the desired sound. There would also be honored members in the community who could strike the drum to call people to a dance or ceremony; this person would know how to strike the drum to convey the information about what specific ceremony or dance was being called. The Lakota word for drum--cancega--means "wooden bucket"; what a down-to-earth term, and right on!
Young Bear and Theisz's conversations, as put down in Standing in the Light, has helped me see how the drum is just a part of an overall mosaic of Lakota traditions and values. I have glimpsed the important role drumming and singing play in keeping the songs and ceremonies, indeed the identity, of the Lakota alive. In reading the thoughts of a respected artist, singer and drummer, and community leader, I hope to call forth other deep meanings in my drumming with groups.
The book is an inspiring and positive reflection on a life well-lived. Young Bear's story resonated with me because he often talked about his desire to improve himself as a singer and Lakota man, one who can know the right traditional song for the occasion, and who can also write songs for the occasion. I had many "ah-ha" moments while reading the book, especially from stories and tales that were sad, funny, and optimistic. In my reading, I also realized that the drumming can't be separated from its wider implications: that drumming is a part of the culture of singing and dancing, which plays a special role in keeping the traditional Lakota ways alive. However, the drum is a focal point of the energy behind this--it proivdes the rhythm to the singer and the dancer--which means that it is an instrumental literally) force in maintaining the Lakota identity into the 21st century.
So, I wanted to find out, through Young Bear's story, the meaning, significance, and use of the drum for the Lakota. Here's what I discovered.
Drums, along with the singing of traditional or sacred songs, are used mainly at ceremonies, festivals and dances, and other sacred events. Sometimes a drum was even accorded honors that a person would receive. Young Bear mentions that the drum the Porcupine Singers used for many years was named "The People Hear Its Voice", and it was treated in a reverential way. It received gifts that were usually offered in honor of a warrior or wise elder. Young Bear also relates that hand drums were often used in the home to accompany family members' signing, and that this home-based singing was a way for the family to connect with each other and to work through emotions--off happiness, sadness, anger-whatever the mood was at the time. Unfortunately, Young Bear said, this tradition is no longer prevalent, and that the drum and singing voice has been replaced by the radio in most Lakota homes.
Young Bear talks about the communal and sacred aspects of the drum. The drum was used as a way to communicate, to send messages through a Lakota camp, so that all could hear it, such as to call people to a special event or dance. On the sacred side, the powerful voice of the drum helped the singer go beyond him or herself to reach the Great Spirit with song. This idea resonated with me, because I often feel that sense of connection that the drum brings, of being in a sort of sacred space. He mentions that, traditionally, the drum was also called "the heartbeat of grandmother earth"--the sound that lies within the earth. This is a very apt and powerful image, that speaks to me of the moving and grounding power of the drum, and music in general.
Another literally striking aspect of Lakota drumming is the emphasis on the drumstick. There are types that have a sheepskin or a leather head; some drummers use wooden sticks, and others use sticks made of synthetic materials. Young Bear says that the "serious and dedicated singers take pride in their drumstick"; and that "you can tell the kind of singer by the way he takes care of his drumstick; after all, that's his main equipment." This reminded me of the fact that I had to make my own drum mallets for the group drumming session at the library, and that I taped an old sock to one of them to act as the beater. It's no wonder that it got a lot of laughs when that sock started unravelling in the session!
In many cultures, there are rules about who can play the drum, because of the its use in sacred ceremonies and rituals. In a Lakota community or band, there would usually be someone whose special gift was to make drums for use in ceremonies; this person knew the best time of year to cut down the cottonwood tree, how to correctly shape the drum body, and which skin to use to get the desired sound. There would also be honored members in the community who could strike the drum to call people to a dance or ceremony; this person would know how to strike the drum to convey the information about what specific ceremony or dance was being called. The Lakota word for drum--cancega--means "wooden bucket"; what a down-to-earth term, and right on!
Young Bear and Theisz's conversations, as put down in Standing in the Light, has helped me see how the drum is just a part of an overall mosaic of Lakota traditions and values. I have glimpsed the important role drumming and singing play in keeping the songs and ceremonies, indeed the identity, of the Lakota alive. In reading the thoughts of a respected artist, singer and drummer, and community leader, I hope to call forth other deep meanings in my drumming with groups.
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