How This Indigenous Jeweler Is Embracing Tradition Under Lockdown
A connection to tradition and land is inherent in indigenous culture. As many communities face life under lockdown amid the COVID-19 pandemic—the Navajo Nation, for one, is currently one of the top-three places in the U.S. with the highest coronavirus infection rate—many are finding solace in these difficult times by turning to their traditional cultural practices. Keri Ataumbi, a Kiowa fine jeweler and metalsmith artist, certainly is. Based outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico in the Cerrillos Hills area, Ataumbi has been embracing creativity in her own way while sheltering in place: by revisiting traditional designs, harvesting her own food, and even building a tipi.
Ataumbi, who launched her fine jewelry label in 2014, was raised on the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming, but moved out to New Mexico in the ’90s. “I feel like I grew up here,” she says. “It definitely feels like home.” For over 10 years, she has lived in her current home with her husband, Joel. Their property spans 20 acres and includes a vast outdoor space, including multiple gardens and her backyard studio, where she creates all of her intricate work. As many of the upcoming markets where she sells her creations, including the Santa Fe Indian Market, have been postponed, therefore Ataumbi has been shifting her focus away from jewelry at this time. “The immediate response was feeling a breath of fresh air,” Ataumbi says of the current stay-at-home order. “I make everything myself, so I usually have a pretty regimented schedule. Now, I’m allowing myself to go back to my roots—making things that are a combination of many mixed materials, which are loaded with meaning. That s what my grandma and mom did, and that s what my sister does.”
Ataumbi comes from a family of creatives. Her mother, Jeri Ah-be-hill, was a respected fashion expert and oversaw the Santa Fe Indian Market s annual clothing contest. Ataumbi s sister, Teri Greeves, is a prominent beadwork artist. During this time, Ataumbi has decided to experiment with new mediums, like those in her family have typically done. So far, she has made herself a dancing dress, and has been making and distributing masks as well. Out of the latter necessity was born a new creative project: a new sculptural piece, which is a Kiowa-centric take on a mask. “The inside of it has a beaded medallion turtle in red and blue, so it’s really personal and a connection to my ancestors,” Ataumbi says. “And the outside of it is our place in the cosmos: the sun, the moon, and a constellation that s important to us, the Big Dipper. I m finishing it off with little medicine bundles on the ears.”
Another way Ataumbi has been embracing her Kiowa culture is through the tipi she set up in her backyard. Every summer, she and her husband erect it as a way to acknowledge her tribal custom. “My mom gave both my sister and I tipis when we graduated from high school,” Ataumbi says. “I thought it was really cool because she gave us each a house. She was like, if something ever happens, you know where our family land is—and here s a house.” She says this outdoor meeting place continues to hold great significance to her culture. “I grew up in a community where, on the rez, every significant thing that happened—deaths, funerals, meetings—happened inside of a tipi, or they’d happen outside or in other circular spaces,” she says. Today, it gives Ataumbi a place where she instantly feels at ease: “It’s really nice to go out there and spend eight hours away from WiFi,” Ataumbi says. “Just being outside is healthy.”
The outdoors have indeed served as another source of sanity for Ataumbi, who has been cooking and baking using what she can gather from the garden. “I plant a garden every year, but this year seems like it s more necessary than others, so I ve put a lot more priority on it,” Atumbi says. Among other projects, she has been working on her compost piles, and building cold frames to plant a variety of vegetables. “I just harvested some asparagus,” she says. “It’s magical this time of year.”
Below, a snapshot of Ataumbi’s life under lockdown.
Photo: Courtesy of Keri Ataumbi1/17I used to work as a landscaper and was in great shape. Since the gym closed, I ve been going old school and getting a lot of my physical activity from landscape projects around the house. Back then I used to have a red heeler named Chico. My current dog, Angus, is a blue heeler, and landscaping together feels like something has come into a full circle in my life.
Photo: Courtesy of Keri Ataumbi2/17Years ago my friends named my home a “spa/bootcamp.” They pointed out that when they would come to visit, I would immediately engage them with physical exercise beyond what they normally do on a daily basis, and then cook elaborate meals for them while they relaxed in the hot tub. Time in the hot tub these days is very quiet. We used to play a game of calling out airplanes in the sky, but lately we occasionally see one.
Photo: Courtesy of Keri Ataumbi3/17We set up a tipi every year as soon as it warms up enough to move outside. It basically becomes another bedroom until it gets too cold to stay out there. It feels really good to me to sleep in that space. I grew up in a community where pretty much every important and meaningful event took place inside a tipi or outside in an arena, or some other circular space.
Photo: Courtesy of Keri Ataumbi4/17My husband built a platform for the tipi to go on because of the mud and erosion that happens with the summer storms. It s really helpful in keeping it clean also, but sometimes the poles move around too much on the wood deck. They are designed to be set up on the ground.
Photo: Courtesy of Keri Ataumbi5/17Having a liner keeps the inside of the tipi significantly warmer. My mom beaded the section of liner behind the bed. She sewed a beautiful tipi when she was a young woman, with beaded medallions on the outside that had deer toes hanging from the centers. She started beading the liner, but never finished. My mom passed away this time of year in 2015. I really like sleeping under her beadwork while it s still cold enough to have the liner up.
