Latest news with #Passamaquoddy
Forbes
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Forbes
Passamaquoddy Basket Weaver Jeremy Frey, From Addiction To Adulation
Jeremy Frey (Passamaquoddy, born 1978), 'Blue Point Urchin,' 2016, ash, sweetgrass, and dye, 5 x 9 x 9 inches. Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Ari and Lea Plosker. © Jeremy Frey. Image courtesy Eric Stoner A popular retelling of the Wabanaki creation story states that man came from the bark of ash trees. The basket trees. The magic, giant-hero Gloosekap shot the trees with his bow and arrow and from the split wood human beings came forth. The Wabanaki come from ash trees in what is now called Maine. The same ash trees being obliterated by invasive emerald ash borers across the country. Tens of millions of ash trees lost to the shiny, metallic green, half-inch insect in Michigan's lower peninsula alone. It is believed the bug came to America via the Great Lakes having burrowed into wooden shipping pallets originating in its native Asia. First identified in the U.S. in Michigan in 2002, Maine had its first sighting in May of 2018. The insects don't travel far themselves, but as was the case with transport from Asia to Michigan, human activity spreads them beyond what the bug can accomplish. Moving firewood from one place to another is the likely reason for how the insect has been able to hopscotch into 33 states and Canada, killing hundreds of millions of trees in what amounts to the blink of an eye in forest terms. DON'T MOVE FIREWOOD BEYOND WHERE IT'S SOURCED! Jeremy Frey (Passamaquoddy, b. 1978) occupies the space between the ash tree's life-giving past and its ominous future. The most celebrated weaver of Passamaquoddy baskets ever, each of Frey's creations carries a memory of Gloosekap, a warning of the emerald ash borer, and the artist's unique signature. He has imagined and achieved designs and forms in Passamaquoddy basket weaving previously unthought of. Breathtaking innovations of conceit and skill. New materials and bold experimentation with color, pattern, shape, and scale. Intricately woven double-walled baskets. Baskets inside of baskets recalling nesting dolls. Thanks to Frey, Passamaquoddy ash baskets have finally made the jump to being recognized as fine art. Museum pieces. Following stops at the Portland Museum of Art and the Art Institute of Chicago, the Bruce Museum in Greenwich, CT now presents 'Jeremy Frey: Woven,' through September 7, 2025. The tour marks the artist's first solo museum exhibition and the first major retrospective of a Passamaquoddy artist presented at fine art museums in the U.S. 'Woven' offers a comprehensive exploration of Frey's 20-plus year career with more than 50 woven baskets crafted from natural materials like sweetgrass, cedar, spruce root, and porcupine quills. And, of course, ash. Brown ash to be specific–alternately known as black ash. Brown ash grows in wet areas resulting in a supple wood, perfect for peeling into thin strips then weaving into baskets. But for how long? While the emerald ash borer has yet to be found in the small town where Frey lives near Bangor, that is likely an inevitability. Frey, who sources all his own trees–tall and straight without branches on the trunk to interrupt the wood–has been taking from the forest a little more than needed for years, creating a reserve. A reserve of material for the continuance of his artmaking and the continuance of his culture should brown ash vanish from the forest. 'I've been to ground zero where (the emerald ash borer infestation) started and went out in the woods and saw what the devastation can be,' Frey told 'Our creation legend is that we come from the ash tree, my people, and the basketry goes into that as well. It's a twofold hit. Then I think about how it all happened. Globalization. Commercialism. I'm just as responsible as anyone if you buy something that comes on a pallet that bug was in.' Global commerce and consumerism and the transnational shipping it requires has spread invasive species around the world to devastating ecological and economic effect. In addition to the emerald ash borer, a partial list includes zebra mussels carried to the Great Lakes in shipping ballast, 'rat spills' in the Aleutian Islands, and stowaway brown tree snakes on Guam. Frey shares a fatalistic perspective about what the loss of brown ash trees would mean to Passamaquoddy culture. 'I guess it's not any different from the thousands of other things we've lost, but if we came from a certain thing and it no longer exists, it's devastating, but it's not like Native people haven't been devastated a hundred thousand times before,' he said. 'We'll continue on. It's just another thing at this point. I hate to say it that way. I almost feel like, 'There goes another one,' but at the same time, if those legends are true, and if we actually came from a tree like that, that's another part of the Mother just gone. It's powerful being in the woods and harvesting them. It's one of my favorite parts of what I do. I know I'll miss that.' From Addiction To Adulation Jeremy Frey (Passamaquoddy, b. 1978) 'Bluejay,' 2021. Black ash, cedar bark, birch bark, porcupine quills, natural undyed and aniline dyed porcupine quills, 12 x 9 in. Bruce Museum, Gift in memory of Maryann and Jay Chai, 2024.05.52.a - .b Paul Mutino Frey didn't pick up weaving until his 20s despite the practice running seven generations deep in his family. He worked kitchen jobs. Long hours, little pay, getting high in his downtime to decompress. His addiction hadn't gotten so bad, however, that he couldn't recognize his life spiraling downward. 'It wasn't my plan,' Frey explained of his introduction to basket weaving. 'I came home to clean up. I just wanted to come home. My mother was learning to weave from an elder in the community at the time.' That elder was Sylvia Gabriel (1929–2003). Frey's mother, Gal Frey (b. 1957), had her own reasons for not wanting to embrace the family basketmaking tradition earlier in life. 'She was raised on the reservation before there was much support for the reservation,' Frey said. 'Everyone was very, very poor. My grandfather made baskets and he was a lobsterman. Sometimes to eat, the kids would have to work on baskets, and so it didn't have positive (associations).' Basketmaking for Gal Frey wasn't an art project, 'It was a feed your brothers because they're hungry' project, in Jeremy Frey's words. 'That doesn't stir a lot of happy emotions.' Gabriel passed the fundamentals of her 'point style' on to Gal Frey, who passed them on to her son. 'She asked me if I wanted to try. It was very frustrating at first, but I've done art my whole life,' Frey remembers. 'When I was younger, I sculpted, I carved, I painted, I drew. When me and my brother got together, rather than playing with toys, we'd draw stories, or we'd make characters out of clay, carve our own swords to sword fight. I used to make dinosaurs out of tin foil, brontosaurus.' Mother and son were also instructed by the Maine Indian Basketmakers Alliance–an organization committed to resuscitating Wabanaki basketry. Jeremy Frey found basketmaking, the time and concentration involved, a perfect and productive replacement for his addiction, idle hands being the devil's workshop and all that. A form of meditation. A therapy. 'I just buried myself into basketry and I replaced that obsession of drug use with an obsession of art, an obsession of weaving,' Frey said. He was quickly rewarded. Attending smaller and then larger Native American art markets, his baskets sold. 'When I first came into the market, basketry was dying off, and it was being reintroduced through a few elders. Those elders were old, arthritic, their quality had come down. What they were teaching was a lower quality,' Frey said. 'Their students had learned from a teacher who wasn't at their peak anymore. There were a few very talented weavers, but for the most part, a lot had been lost.' Sizing up the competition, Frey also recognized he needed to stand out to sell work. 'When I went to my first market, my instinct was to walk around the entire show and look at every single basket there. I had a few pieces that were just modeled after my mother's and they were not unique at all,' Frey said. 'I went home and started rethinking what was possible.' His traditional basketmaking gradually evolved into contemporary fine art one tweak after another. 'One of the first things I did was I took the traditional weaves and I made them very tiny. So instead of having quarter inch weavers, they were like 32nd of an inch weavers,' Frey said. 'Then I had to find a way for that weave to support itself because it's so tiny, it could just collapse on itself. I had to learn about material preparation, material choice, the way that the ribs are laid. I had to basically redesign the traditional basket to suit the new designs. With that came the next thing and the next thing, the next thing. Every year I would bring something that no one had seen before. I did that for years.' His baskets took the Native art scene by storm. In 2011, he was awarded Best in Show at the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts Indian Market in Santa Fe, the oldest, largest, and most prestigious exhibition of Indigenous art in the world. Frey became the first basket maker in the event's then 90-year history to do so. He'd also won Best in Show earlier that year at the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair & Market in Phoenix–his first time entering–becoming only the second artist ever to accomplish that double play. In 2015, he again won Best in Show at the Heard, the second most prestigious Native American art fair, becoming the first artist to do so. He wanted more. To reach more people. A wider audience beyond Native Art. 'That was a great way for me to get my work introduced to the world–I'm not knocking it in any way–but as an artist who is trying to put their soul into the world, I wanted to see my baskets, my art, (received) not as a Native's art–and again, I love all the support that that's given me–but I want to keep pushing, I want to make art that inspires everyone. If I knew a way that I could have art change the world, I want it to be profound, and I want it to still be a basket from the woods. I don't know how to do that, but wouldn't it be cool?' Basket Making Becomes Fine Art Jeremy Frey (Passamaquoddy, born 1978), 'Loon' (detail), 2020, ash, cedar bark, porcupine quill on birch bark, and dye, 36 x 23 x 23 inches. Private collection of Catherine Stiefel, California. © Jeremy Frey. Eric Stoner Early in his career, Frey developed a formula that produced income while feeding his desire to push the boundaries of creativity. 'I used to go to a show and I'd make one big piece, one of my favorite, big, complex pieces, and then I'd make a bunch of filler pieces so I could pay the bills. If I sell these four or five pieces, I'll get to the next show. I'll pay rent.' Frey explained. 'If (the big basket) didn't sell, at least I got to experiment, to try something new. Now, working in a gallery space, in the contemporary art world, having exposure, I can make just art pieces.' Frey's success at the Native art markets led to representation in New York with Karma gallery, which put him on the mainstream contemporary art radar, ultimately leading to institutional interest, selling pieces to leading art museums around the country, as opposed to exclusively individual collectors. 'For me, it's freedom. It's freedom to create whatever I want to create versus making orders,' Frey said. 'Usually, when you do an order, especially with basketry, you're doing an order of something someone's already seen, and so your growth is slower because you're remaking things you've made before. I have no desire to sit on a design that exists. I get bored of my work if it doesn't get better. There has to be something brand new about a piece or I'm not thrilled. Working in this space I'm working in now, I'm able to be more imaginative.' That imagination is spreading to other mediums. Frey has prints and a video on view in the exhibition as well. They'll never replace his baskets, and hopefully, they'll never need to. More From Forbes Forbes SWAIA Santa Fe Indian Market: The World's Greatest Art Fair By Chadd Scott Forbes Cara Romero's First Major Solo Museum Show Opening At Hood Museum Of Art By Chadd Scott Forbes Indigenous Group Of Seven Artworks Together Again At The Whyte Museum In Banff, Alberta By Chadd Scott
21-07-2025
- General
How a federal monument's new welcome center in Maine honors Native Americans
ATOP LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, Maine -- The founder of Burt's Bees envisioned a tribute to Henry David Thoreau when she began buying thousands of acres of logging company land to donate for what would become the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument. But there was a major pivot: The monument's new welcome center tells its story not from the perspective of the famed naturalist but through the eyes of the Wabanaki tribes who were the land's original inhabitants. Roxanne Quimby's family collaborated with four tribal nations, private entities and federal officials to create the $35 million center that the National Park Service opened to the public on June 21, providing a focal point for the 87,500-acre (354 square kilometer) monument. Dubbed "Tekαkαpimək' (pronounced duh gah-gah bee mook), which means 'as far as the eye can see' in the Penobscot language, the contemporary wood-clad structure atop Lookout Mountain provides a stunning view of Katahdin, a mountain of key importance to Penobscot Nation, one of four Wabanaki Confederacy tribes in present-day Maine. 'It's a sacred mountain. For Penobscot people, it's really the heart of our homeland,' said Jennifer Neptune, a Penobscot who contributed artwork and written interpretations for the exhibits. Philanthropic funds covered the construction costs and land purchases for the monument, which is now now maintained by the park service. Tekαkαpimək donors included L.L. Bean, Burt's Bees and the National Park Foundation, funneled through the Friends of Katahdin Woods and Waters, along with the Quimby family. Quimby sold Burt's Bees, maker of lip balm and other products, as she turned her attention to philanthropy. Off the grid and reachable only by unpaved roads, the center features an amphitheater and eastward lookout for sunrise ceremonies led by the Maliseet, Mi'kmaq, Passamaquoddy and Penobscot tribes, known collectively as the 'people of the dawn.' The vista stretches over land the tribes traversed for thousands of years. The other side faces Katahdin, which at 5,269 feet (1,606 meters) is Maine's tallest peak. Inside, exhibits and artwork teach visitors about birch bark canoes, ancient fishing techniques, the night sky and local wildlife, with translations in Wabanaki languages. Floor tiles reveal an intricate map of tributaries to the Penobscot River, which flows past the island home of the Penobscot reservation to the ocean. The welcome center has opened amid President Donald Trump's campaign to eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives nationwide, including by issuing an executive order aimed at 'restoring truth and sanity to American history' that prompted Interior Secretary Doug Burgum to order a review of signs, memorials and statues. While the Trump administration's moves have created some unease, a formal management agreement between the federal government and the tribal nations involved should protect the center's focus on the Native Americans who were stewards of this land for centuries, said Quimby's son, Lucas St. Clair, who marshaled his mother's effort to have the land donated to the National Park Service. 'We can do better about teaching the real history of the United States," and the welcome center attempts that, he said. "It's not an insult to America. We're not trying to talk badly about America,' he said. When Quimby began buying the land in the 1990s, she was inspired by Thoreau's travels through the region, which included an 1857 journey led by a Penobscot guide, Joe Polis, that he chronicled in 'The Maine Woods.' But the focus began to shift in 2014 when her son joined a group led by tribal leaders that retraced Thoreau's lengthy travels on the 150th anniversary of that book's publication. St. Clair realized there was a richer story to tell. St. Clair began consulting with the tribes, only to be humbled two years later, after President Barack Obama's interior secretary traveled to Maine to celebrate the land's designation as a national monument. A tribal leader chided St. Clair because no tribal members were invited to speak. The omission had revealed a cultural blind spot: 'It just felt like, oh my gosh, I missed the boat on this one,' St. Clair recounted. Another pivotal moment came after the unveiling of the first welcome center design, which Neptune said was inspired by a New England farmhouse-style structure that once served loggers in the area. Tribal representatives felt the design smacked of colonialism and oppression, Neptune said. Lawyers were brought in to protect tribal heritage and intellectual property, while the non-natives involved made deeper efforts to understand Wabanaki culture, and the architect collaborated with an expanded tribal advisory board on a new design evoking a moose's antlers, inspired by a story of a tribal hero. James Francis, the Penobscot Nation's tribal historian, hopes this collaboration serves as a template for future projects involving Native Americans. 'The real achievement of this project was the connection to Maine and how it was done — bringing in the Wabanaki people and giving them a voice,' he said. Quimby said the original design was beautiful, but the discussions with tribal members were eye-opening. 'The more we went along with it, the more we realized that they could make an enormous contribution,' Quimby said. According to the tribe, Thoreau made a major contribution to Penobscot history by documenting their place names, and once wrote in a journal that 'the Indian language reveals another wholly new life to us.' Thoreau would approve of Quimby's steps to conserve land for future generations, said Will Shafroth, former president and CEO of the National Park Foundation, which raises money to assist the National Park Service. 'You have to believe that Thoreau would basically sit on the side of the river and thank God she and her family did this,' Shafroth said.
News18
19-07-2025
- General
- News18
How federal monuments new welcome centre in Maine honours Native Americans
Agency: PTI Last Updated: Atop Lookout Mountain(US), Jul 19 (AP) The founder of Burt's Bees envisioned a tribute to Henry David Thoreau when she began buying thousands of acres of logging company land to donate for what would become the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument. But there was a major pivot: The monument's new welcome centre tells its story not from the perspective of the famed naturalist but through the eyes of the Wabanaki tribes who were the land's original inhabitants. Roxanne Quimby's family collaborated with four tribal nations, private entities and federal officials to create the $35 million center that the National Park Service opened to the public on June 21, providing a focal point for the 87,500-acre (354 square kilometer) monument. Dubbed 'Tekakapimk" (pronounced duh gah-gah bee mook), which means 'as far as the eye can see" in the Penobscot language, the contemporary wood-clad structure atop Lookout Mountain provides a stunning view of Katahdin, a mountain of key importance to Penobscot Nation, one of four Wabanaki Confederacy tribes in present-day Maine. 'It's a sacred mountain. For Penobscot people, it's really the heart of our homeland," said Jennifer Neptune, a Penobscot who contributed artwork and written interpretations for the exhibits. Reflecting the land's Native stewards Philanthropic funds covered the construction costs and land purchases for the monument, which is now now maintained by the park service. Tekakapimk donors included L L Bean, Burt's Bees and the National Park Foundation, funneled through the Friends of Katahdin Woods and Waters, along with the Quimby family. Quimby sold Burt's Bees, maker of lip balm and other products, as she turned her attention to philanthropy. Off the grid and reachable only by unpaved roads, the center features an amphitheater and eastward lookout for sunrise ceremonies led by the Maliseet, Mi'kmaq, Passamaquoddy and Penobscot tribes, known collectively as the 'people of the dawn." The vista stretches over land the tribes traversed for thousands of years. The other side faces Katahdin, which at 5,269 feet (1,606 meters) is Maine's tallest peak. Inside, exhibits and artwork teach visitors about birch bark canoes, ancient fishing techniques, the night sky and local wildlife, with translations in Wabanaki languages. Floor tiles reveal an intricate map of tributaries to the Penobscot River, which flows past the island home of the Penobscot reservation to the ocean. The welcome centre has opened amid President Donald Trump's campaign to eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives nationwide, including by issuing an executive order aimed at 'restoring truth and sanity to American history" that prompted Interior Secretary Doug Burgum to order a review of signs, memorials and statues. While the Trump administration's moves have created some unease, a formal management agreement between the federal government and the tribal nations involved should protect the centre's focus on the Native Americans who were stewards of this land for centuries, said Quimby's son, Lucas St Clair, who marshalled his mother's effort to have the land donated to the National Park Service. 'We can do better about teaching the real history of the United States," and the welcome centre attempts that, he said. 'It's not an insult to America. We're not trying to talk badly about America," he said. Pivoting the focus When Quimby began buying the land in the 1990s, she was inspired by Thoreau's travels through the region, which included an 1857 journey led by a Penobscot guide, Joe Polis, that he chronicled in 'The Maine Woods." But the focus began to shift in 2014 when her son joined a group led by tribal leaders that retraced Thoreau's lengthy travels on the 150th anniversary of that book's publication. St Clair realized there was a richer story to tell. St Clair began consulting with the tribes, only to be humbled two years later, after President Barack Obama's interior secretary travelled to Maine to celebrate the land's designation as a national monument. A tribal leader chided St. Clair because no tribal members were invited to speak. The omission had revealed a cultural blind spot: 'It just felt like, oh my gosh, I missed the boat on this one," St Clair recounted. Another pivotal moment came after the unveiling of the first welcome centre design, which Neptune said was inspired by a New England farmhouse-style structure that once served loggers in the area. Tribal representatives felt the design smacked of colonialism and oppression, Neptune said. Lawyers were brought in to protect tribal heritage and intellectual property, while the non-natives involved made deeper efforts to understand Wabanaki culture, and the architect collaborated with an expanded tribal advisory board on a new design evoking a moose's antlers, inspired by a story of a tribal hero. James Francis, the Penobscot Nation's tribal historian, hopes this collaboration serves as a template for future projects involving Native Americans. 'The real achievement of this project was the connection to Maine and how it was done — bringing in the Wabanaki people and giving them a voice," he said. Would Thoreau approve? Quimby said the original design was beautiful, but the discussions with tribal members were eye-opening. 'The more we went along with it, the more we realized that they could make an enormous contribution," Quimby said. According to the tribe, Thoreau made a major contribution to Penobscot history by documenting their place names, and once wrote in a journal that 'the Indian language reveals another wholly new life to us." Thoreau would approve of Quimby's steps to conserve land for future generations, said Will Shafroth, former president and CEO of the National Park Foundation, which raises money to assist the National Park Service. 'You have to believe that Thoreau would basically sit on the side of the river and thank God she and her family did this," Shafroth said. (AP) RD RD (This story has not been edited by News18 staff and is published from a syndicated news agency feed - PTI) view comments First Published: July 19, 2025, 19:30 IST News agency-feeds How federal monuments new welcome centre in Maine honours Native Americans Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
Yahoo
12-06-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
Nah, we changed our minds: EPA restores $1.6M UMaine PFAS grant
Jun. 11—The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has reinstated a $1.6 million grant to the University of Maine to research and reduce the effect of forever chemicals on farms one month after canceling it for being inconsistent with EPA funding priorities. In May, EPA spokesman Mike Bastasch justified the grant withdrawal like this: "Maybe the Biden-Harris administration shouldn't have forced their radical agenda of wasteful DEI programs and 'environmental justice' preferencing on the EPA." UMaine filed an appeal for wrongful grant termination on June 5. A day later, the EPA informed UMaine that it had reversed its position, and insisted that agency leaders had made that decision on June 4, the day before UMaine's appeal. The EPA gave no reason for its reversal. But a week before it canceled the grant, EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin told Maine Rep. Chellie Pingree, D-1st District, during a committee hearing that these PFAS grants were important and implied they would continue after the agency reorganized under the Trump administration. The EPA did not respond to questions about the grant reinstatement or the status of two other grants worth more than $3 million for other forever chemical research in Maine, ranging from developing rapid field testing to testing forever chemical levels in Wabanaki tribal waters and fish. Perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, are manmade chemicals found in a broad range of common household products, like nonstick pans and makeup, that pose a public health risk to humans through prolonged exposure. Even trace amounts of some PFAS can be dangerous to humans, with exposure to high levels of certain PFAS linked to serious health problems such as increased high blood pressure in pregnant women, developmental delays in children and increased risk of some cancers. Researchers involved in Mi'kmaq Nation and Passamaquoddy grants were happy to hear UMaine's grant had been restored and were hopeful their appeals would lead to reinstatement of their awards, too. As of Wednesday, however, their grants remained canceled. There is $1.45 million remaining on the restored award for UMaine to deliver "practical, science-based solutions" to reduce forever chemical contamination in livestock to produce safer food, a stronger farm economy and a healthier nation, according to a university statement. The grant also funds hands-on research learning for at least 10 students as part of UMaine's mission to produce the next generation of agricultural problem solvers and take a lead role in the new field of researching and reducing the effects of forever chemicals on agriculture. The EPA award will complement UMaine's new $500,000 state grant to research how forever chemicals move from soil into plants and livestock and eventually into the people who consume milk and dairy products. Both projects are led by UMaine professor Ellen Mallory. As of Monday, the University of Maine System has had 16 awards restored that the federal government had previously terminated, mostly at UMaine, according to a university spokeswoman. The current balance remaining on those reversed awards is $3.5 million. Over the last decade, Maine has spent more than $100 million as it became a national leader in the fight against harmful forever chemicals left behind by the state-permitted spreading of tainted sewage sludge on farm fields as a fertilizer. State inspectors have identified 82 Maine farms and 500 residential properties contaminated by the harmful forever chemicals in the sludge during a $28.8 million investigation of 1,100 sites. The state projects that it will install 660 water filtration systems at private wells near sludge-spread fields. So far, 20% of wells tested during the sludge investigation have exceeded Maine's drinking water standard. The Biden administration announced a stricter federal standard last year, but the Trump administration recently announced it planned to relax those standards and delay enactment. Copy the Story Link
Yahoo
16-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Relatives seek justice for missing and murdered relatives
The ICT Newscast for Friday, May 16, 2025, features stories about a missing government website, plus news from the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. Plus, an honor for a Passamaquoddy culture bearer. Check out the ICT Newscast on YouTube for this episode and more. In Wisconsin, a rally at the State Capitol spotlighted the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People, with families and advocates calling for action. A two-night documentary premieres May 27 on the History Channel. It features Michael Spears as legendary Lakota leader Sitting Bull. Geoffrey Roth, Vice Chair of the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, shares insights as the forum wraps up its work on global Indigenous rights. Erica Moore is the new president of Sinte Gleska University, leading the tribal college on the Rosebud Reservation into its next chapter. In Maine, culture bearer Dwayne Tomah was honored at a university commencement, highlighting Indigenous knowledge and language revitalization. View previous ICT broadcasts here every week for the latest news from around Indian Country. ICT is owned by IndiJ Public Media, a nonprofit news organization. Will you support our work? All of our content is free. There are no subscriptions or costs. Support ICT for as little as $10 or less.. Sign up for ICT's free newsletter.
