Lakota artist smudges the former gold mine inside the Black Hills
The mountain range is central to the origin story of several tribal nations, including his, and it has become an international symbol of the ongoing struggle for Indigenous land rights and the destruction of sacred sites. To the Lakota, Mount Rushmore is the most visible scar on the mountains. The former gold mine beneath is another, and that's what motivated Two Bulls to use his performance art to cleanse it.
'You hear 'land back', and it means a lot of different things to different people,' he said, referring to the Indigenous-led movement to restore tribal self-determination through ownership and stewardship of their homelands. 'It's been interesting trying to reframe some of these conversations about stewardship and land rights and treaties.'
When the green pines on top meet the blue sky above, it creates the perception of a black outline, which is why the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota people call it 'He Sapa', which means 'black ridge.' To them, it is where their creation began. But for generations, this sacred place was mined and stripped of gold, leaving lasting marks.
Today, the former Homestake Gold Mine, a 300-mile (480-kilometer) tunnel system carved inside the mountains, houses the Sanford Underground Research Facility, where scientists study particle physics and dark matter. The deep mine shafts encased in granite are ideal for research into the secrets of the stars.
As an artist in residence at SURF last year, Two Bulls felt a connection to its depths but a tremendous sense of loss when he ventured into the mine.
'I was bearing witness to the desecration that Homestake did every day. It was heartbreaking,' he said. And it left him wondering: 'How do you recover from a desecration or a crime?'
Two Bulls also respected the work being conducted by some of the world's top minds inside the Black Hills, and he wanted to find a way to show them that this place was important long before its value was measured in gold or scientific research. He decided the best solution was also the simplest: smudge.
Smudging is the act of cleansing, spiritually and physically, by burning plants like sage, cedar or sweetgrass and enveloping one's self or a space in the smoke. It has been a common practice across Indian Country for generations. Last week, using sage donated by Native people from as close as the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and as far away as the West Coast, Two Bulls burned several bundles, each representing the prayers of the community that donated it.
For an hour, he burned the bundles in a small stove at the entrance to the former mine, fanning the flames with eagle feathers to smudge the place that his people revere as the center of the cosmos.
Sensors in the mine nearly a mile below ground detected the smoke, a spokesperson for SURF said.
'To see how that was put together, that floored me,' said Rylan Sprague, a botanist and member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe who chairs SURF's cultural advisory committee. 'Leave it to an artist to take something that seems so regular and turn it into something totally different.'
Two Bulls said Western science often overlooks or misunderstands Indigenous ways of thinking about the world and our origins, and that he wants his art project, called Azilya — the Lakota word for smudging — to be a way for the two to meet. An exhibition of his art from his time at SURF exploring that concept is currently on display at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology.
Several researchers and members of SURF's staff watched Two Bulls smudge the mine. Sprague said he could see from the looks on their faces that the SURF employees in attendance understood the reverence Two Bulls and his community have for the place where they work.
The room was largely quiet as Two Bulls sent smoke and prayers a mile beneath the earth's surface.
'It's not a site that I think they think about as a sacred site. It's a work site,' Two Bulls said. 'I hope that that happens. That's my intention.'
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Washington Post
a day ago
- Washington Post
A historic Swedish church embraces inclusion with minority languages
KIRUNA, Sweden — The members of Kiruna Church primarily worship in Swedish, their country's main language . But this Lutheran church some 200 kilometers (124 miles) above the Arctic Circle seeks to incorporate the region's minority languages — Northern Sami, Finnish and Meänkieli – into worship services , carrying on an inclusive ethos that has been a cornerstone of the historic wooden church since its founding in 1912. 'We are talking about the language of the heart,' vicar Lena Tjärnberg said. 'That's very important, that you can hear some of the words in your language.' The church, called Kiruna Kyrka in Swedish, moved 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) east on Tuesday and Wednesday as part of Kiruna's relocation because the world's largest underground iron-ore mine is threatening to swallow the town. The church closed its doors a year ago in preparation for the move. The inclusion of the minority languages — particularly the Northern Sami language with Kiruna's population of Indigenous people, including reindeer herders — reflects the church's history. The building itself was a gift to Kiruna from state-owned mining company LKAB, whose manager in the early 1900s decided that the entire community should feel welcome there even if they are not Lutheran. Its exterior was designed to emulate the Sami style, and there is only one cross in the entire structure to avoid an overemphasis on Christianity. And a 1912 altarpiece painted by Prince Eugen, a member of the Swedish royal family and a renowned landscape artist, features a sunlit forest grove to represent nature as spiritual instead of the traditional religious scenes. On Wednesday, the church settled into its new, safer home in Kiruna's revamped downtown. Worshippers are expected to be back inside by the end of next year, in a return to the pews that have carried the smell of tar to preserve the historic wood for generations. While the Kiruna Church currently has a good relationship with the Sami people, historically the Church of Sweden was complicit in Sweden's racist campaign against Europe's only recognized Indigenous people . The Sami culture, traditions and languages were suppressed for decades. Beginning in 1913, the church and state ran so-called 'nomad schools,' mandatory segregated boarding schools where Sami children experienced racism, bullying and abuse until the 1960s. In 2021, the archbishop delivered the first of two formal apologies to the Sami people for the Church of Sweden's role in oppressing them. 'Within the Church of Sweden, Sami spirituality was despised. Instead of recognizing the image of God in our Sami sisters and brothers, we tried to remake them in the image of the majority culture,' Archbishop Antje Jackelén said at the time. 'We did not see your obvious relationship with the Creator and with the lands. We did not understand that Sami spirituality expresses itself in everyday actions.' A truth commission, set up by the Swedish government in 2021, is expected to address the nomad schools' lasting trauma on the Sami people and conclude its work by Dec. 1. On a typical Sunday, 40 to 50 people sat in the pews — though more always crowd inside for weddings and funerals. Anna-Kristina Simma, a worshipper who is a member of the Sami people and grew up going to the Kiruna Church, said it is a mainstay in everyone's life in this part of Swedish Lapland, even if they aren't going to weekly services. 'You start from when you were a child, a baby, all your life until you get old,' she said. Monica Nutti Blind, a deacon in the church who also is a member of the Sami people, said the church's architecture reminds her of the area's seasons. The dark wood inside is like the long, dark northern Swedish winters, she said, but the windows allow the summer's Midnight Sun to brighten everything. 'If you look up in the church, you see the light that reminds of spring and the light and the vegetation,' she said. On Sunday, two days before the move began, the church held a lakeside service 87 kilometers (54 miles) northeast of its historic location. With a fire burning to keep the bugs away, six worshippers bundled up in hiking boots, long coats and hats to keep warm amid temperatures hovering around 10 degrees Celsius (50 degrees Fahrenheit). The small summer congregation, seated on wooden benches or camping chairs, sang from hymnals and listened to Nutti Blind as she read a passage from the Book of Proverbs in the Northern Sami language. The verse reminded the community of its responsibility to be good neighbors. But before the 35-minute service concluded — with an early fika, the traditional Swedish coffee break — the worshippers paused to reflect upon the upcoming move. Nutti Blind offered a prayer, this time in Swedish, for their spiritual home's safety. 'We pray for the move of the Kiruna Church, that the church will be preserved and that the move goes well,' she prayed. 'And that we once again will use this beautiful church.' ___ Pietro De Cristofaro in Kiruna, Sweden, contributed to this report. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
a day ago
A historic Swedish church embraces inclusion with minority languages
KIRUNA, Sweden -- The members of Kiruna Church primarily worship in Swedish, their country's main language. But this Lutheran church some 200 kilometers (124 miles) above the Arctic Circle seeks to incorporate the region's minority languages — Northern Sami, Finnish and Meänkieli – into worship services, carrying on an inclusive ethos that has been a cornerstone of the historic wooden church since its founding in 1912. 'We are talking about the language of the heart,' vicar Lena Tjärnberg said. 'That's very important, that you can hear some of the words in your language.' The church, called Kiruna Kyrka in Swedish, moved 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) east on Tuesday and Wednesday as part of Kiruna's relocation because the world's largest underground iron-ore mine is threatening to swallow the town. The church closed its doors a year ago in preparation for the move. The inclusion of the minority languages — particularly the Northern Sami language with Kiruna's population of Indigenous people, including reindeer herders — reflects the church's history. The building itself was a gift to Kiruna from state-owned mining company LKAB, whose manager in the early 1900s decided that the entire community should feel welcome there even if they are not Lutheran. Its exterior was designed to emulate the Sami style, and there is only one cross in the entire structure to avoid an overemphasis on Christianity. And a 1912 altarpiece painted by Prince Eugen, a member of the Swedish royal family and a renowned landscape artist, features a sunlit forest grove to represent nature as spiritual instead of the traditional religious scenes. On Wednesday, the church settled into its new, safer home in Kiruna's revamped downtown. Worshippers are expected to be back inside by the end of next year, in a return to the pews that have carried the smell of tar to preserve the historic wood for generations. While the Kiruna Church currently has a good relationship with the Sami people, historically the Church of Sweden was complicit in Sweden's racist campaign against Europe's only recognized Indigenous people. The Sami culture, traditions and languages were suppressed for decades. Beginning in 1913, the church and state ran so-called 'nomad schools,' mandatory segregated boarding schools where Sami children experienced racism, bullying and abuse until the 1960s. In 2021, the archbishop delivered the first of two formal apologies to the Sami people for the Church of Sweden's role in oppressing them. 'Within the Church of Sweden, Sami spirituality was despised. Instead of recognizing the image of God in our Sami sisters and brothers, we tried to remake them in the image of the majority culture,' Archbishop Antje Jackelén said at the time. 'We did not see your obvious relationship with the Creator and with the lands. We did not understand that Sami spirituality expresses itself in everyday actions.' A truth commission, set up by the Swedish government in 2021, is expected to address the nomad schools' lasting trauma on the Sami people and conclude its work by Dec. 1. On a typical Sunday, 40 to 50 people sat in the pews — though more always crowd inside for weddings and funerals. Anna-Kristina Simma, a worshipper who is a member of the Sami people and grew up going to the Kiruna Church, said it is a mainstay in everyone's life in this part of Swedish Lapland, even if they aren't going to weekly services. 'You start from when you were a child, a baby, all your life until you get old," she said. Monica Nutti Blind, a deacon in the church who also is a member of the Sami people, said the church's architecture reminds her of the area's seasons. The dark wood inside is like the long, dark northern Swedish winters, she said, but the windows allow the summer's Midnight Sun to brighten everything. 'If you look up in the church, you see the light that reminds of spring and the light and the vegetation,' she said. On Sunday, two days before the move began, the church held a lakeside service 87 kilometers (54 miles) northeast of its historic location. With a fire burning to keep the bugs away, six worshippers bundled up in hiking boots, long coats and hats to keep warm amid temperatures hovering around 10 degrees Celsius (50 degrees Fahrenheit). The small summer congregation, seated on wooden benches or camping chairs, sang from hymnals and listened to Nutti Blind as she read a passage from the Book of Proverbs in the Northern Sami language. The verse reminded the community of its responsibility to be good neighbors. But before the 35-minute service concluded — with an early fika, the traditional Swedish coffee break — the worshippers paused to reflect upon the upcoming move. Nutti Blind offered a prayer, this time in Swedish, for their spiritual home's safety. 'We pray for the move of the Kiruna Church, that the church will be preserved and that the move goes well,' she prayed. 'And that we once again will use this beautiful church.' ___
San Francisco Chronicle
a day ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
A historic Swedish church embraces inclusion with minority languages
KIRUNA, Sweden (AP) — The members of Kiruna Church primarily worship in Swedish, their country's main language. But this Lutheran church some 200 kilometers (124 miles) above the Arctic Circle seeks to incorporate the region's minority languages — Northern Sami, Finnish and Meänkieli – into worship services, carrying on an inclusive ethos that has been a cornerstone of the historic wooden church since its founding in 1912. 'We are talking about the language of the heart,' vicar Lena Tjärnberg said. 'That's very important, that you can hear some of the words in your language.' The church, called Kiruna Kyrka in Swedish, moved 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) east on Tuesday and Wednesday as part of Kiruna's relocation because the world's largest underground iron-ore mine is threatening to swallow the town. The church closed its doors a year ago in preparation for the move. The inclusion of the minority languages — particularly the Northern Sami language with Kiruna's population of Indigenous people, including reindeer herders — reflects the church's history. The building itself was a gift to Kiruna from state-owned mining company LKAB, whose manager in the early 1900s decided that the entire community should feel welcome there even if they are not Lutheran. Its exterior was designed to emulate the Sami style, and there is only one cross in the entire structure to avoid an overemphasis on Christianity. And a 1912 altarpiece painted by Prince Eugen, a member of the Swedish royal family and a renowned landscape artist, features a sunlit forest grove to represent nature as spiritual instead of the traditional religious scenes. On Wednesday, the church settled into its new, safer home in Kiruna's revamped downtown. Worshippers are expected to be back inside by the end of next year, in a return to the pews that have carried the smell of tar to preserve the historic wood for generations. While the Kiruna Church currently has a good relationship with the Sami people, historically the Church of Sweden was complicit in Sweden's racist campaign against Europe's only recognized Indigenous people. The Sami culture, traditions and languages were suppressed for decades. Beginning in 1913, the church and state ran so-called 'nomad schools,' mandatory segregated boarding schools where Sami children experienced racism, bullying and abuse until the 1960s. In 2021, the archbishop delivered the first of two formal apologies to the Sami people for the Church of Sweden's role in oppressing them. 'Within the Church of Sweden, Sami spirituality was despised. Instead of recognizing the image of God in our Sami sisters and brothers, we tried to remake them in the image of the majority culture,' Archbishop Antje Jackelén said at the time. 'We did not see your obvious relationship with the Creator and with the lands. We did not understand that Sami spirituality expresses itself in everyday actions.' A truth commission, set up by the Swedish government in 2021, is expected to address the nomad schools' lasting trauma on the Sami people and conclude its work by Dec. 1. 'All your life until you get old' On a typical Sunday, 40 to 50 people sat in the pews — though more always crowd inside for weddings and funerals. Anna-Kristina Simma, a worshipper who is a member of the Sami people and grew up going to the Kiruna Church, said it is a mainstay in everyone's life in this part of Swedish Lapland, even if they aren't going to weekly services. 'You start from when you were a child, a baby, all your life until you get old," she said. Monica Nutti Blind, a deacon in the church who also is a member of the Sami people, said the church's architecture reminds her of the area's seasons. The dark wood inside is like the long, dark northern Swedish winters, she said, but the windows allow the summer's Midnight Sun to brighten everything. 'If you look up in the church, you see the light that reminds of spring and the light and the vegetation,' she said. Final service before the move On Sunday, two days before the move began, the church held a lakeside service 87 kilometers (54 miles) northeast of its historic location. With a fire burning to keep the bugs away, six worshippers bundled up in hiking boots, long coats and hats to keep warm amid temperatures hovering around 10 degrees Celsius (50 degrees Fahrenheit). The small summer congregation, seated on wooden benches or camping chairs, sang from hymnals and listened to Nutti Blind as she read a passage from the Book of Proverbs in the Northern Sami language. The verse reminded the community of its responsibility to be good neighbors. But before the 35-minute service concluded — with an early fika, the traditional Swedish coffee break — the worshippers paused to reflect upon the upcoming move. Nutti Blind offered a prayer, this time in Swedish, for their spiritual home's safety. 'We pray for the move of the Kiruna Church, that the church will be preserved and that the move goes well,' she prayed. 'And that we once again will use this beautiful church.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
