In the Pacific Northwest one grows accustomed to bears and injuns appearing everywhere. In the iconography that is. Unless you know where to go and what to look for, they can both be scarce in everyday life. Though the Sometimes the best place to hide something is in full view rule applies here too.Walking through Seattle recently, I encountered this fountain in Tilicum Place. For the first time in a long time the American Indian honoured in this piece of public art bears some resemblance to a real figure: 1800's leader of the Suquamish tribe, Chief Seathle (or Sealth or Seattle), famous for building relationships with white settlers, and for whom the city is named.
Looking at the 1908 date on this National Historic Register monument, I cannot help but rue the fact that in the intervening 101 years, the attitude from some quarters towards American Indian people in public arts has grown o so cavalier to the point of chain saw massacre. The May 4 post in this blog will attest to this
Across the water, I live within the hallowed precinct of this chief's grave.
The bronze life size figure, is placed atop a block of granite made classical in the fountain genre by bear heads spewing forth water in four directions. Makes a change from lions who have been conscripted into service as water fonts to the point of extinction.
Set me pondering what the impulse drives the human hand in art of public statements? Do we make wild and dangerous creatures such as lions or bears into servants in our iconography through admiration? Or to use another kind of sympathetic magic and harness them thus to forever be our fettered minions spewing water?
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