At 95, This Haida Elder and Basket Maker Has Published Her First Book

Delores Churchill has done many things in her 95 years.

She is a lifelong speaker of the Haida language, X̱aad Kíl. She had a career as a bookkeeper. She has lived in both Canada and the United States, and she travelled the world teaching and studying basketry. She is an Elder, a storyteller, a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

And now, an author.

In From a Square to a Circle: Haida Basketry, released last month by Harbour Publishing, Churchill intertwines stories about Haida culture, history and social order with lessons about the ancient tradition and techniques of Haida weaving.

Born Oct. 23, 1929, in G̱utaawaas, also known as Old Massett, Churchill did not attend residential school, instead staying on Haida Gwaii, where she grew up speaking the language and learning the culture. While she didn’t take an interest in basketry until adulthood, her skill blossomed into what is now a 50-years-and-counting career of practising and teaching the tradition.

It’s work that has transcended boundaries, both political and cultural. She has lived on Haida Gwaii and in southeast Alaska. She has become skilled in the basketry of the Tlingit and Tsimshian nations. She has taught and conducted research all over the world, including at museums in Canada, the United States and Europe.

“Weaving belongs to all of us. Each of our cultures of origin includes the weaving arts,” Churchill writes. “It is the strand that binds us together as Earth’s family and connects us to the land, the past and the future.”

But Churchill’s book is about much more than basketry. Among its more fascinating vignettes is the story of her connection to Long Ago Man, Kwäday Dän Ts’ìnchi, an ancient, mummified body discovered 25 years ago in what is now Tatshenshini-Alsek Provincial Park in B.C.

Not only does Churchill have a genetic connection to Long Ago Man, but her study of the spruce root hat he wore on the day he died, estimated at up to 550 years old, has helped to inform and expand her basketry practice.

Churchill currently lives in Ketchikan, Alaska. The Tyee caught up with her in nearby Hydaburg, where she has spent the past two years working with Haida educator Benjamin K’uyáang Young to develop language curriculum and early education initiatives in southeast Alaska.

Of the many things Churchill has done, she is first and foremost a teacher — our conversation included detailed discussion about basketry details such as Z-twists, S-twists and lightning designs. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I want to start by saying congratulations because I think you’ve just passed two big milestones. How does it feel to have your first book published just days before you turn 95?

I’m really happy that it finally got published. I worked on it for almost 35 years. At first, I would write it on a yellow notepad. I had a computer that I could use, almost like a typewriter. I typed all these stories I had written on the notepads. When I finally finished doing the last one, my daughter happened to come from Canada, she lives on Haida Gwaii, and she said, “Have you printed these?” I said, “No.” She brought it to Walmart and she printed them out. When she came home, she said, ”Mother, your book is finished.” Although, I still have a lot of stories.

It sounds like you have more material to share.

Well, somebody asked me to do another book and I said, “I don’t think so.” I didn’t know it was so hard to publish a book. I thought all you did was send it to the publisher and they printed it out. I didn’t know about all the editing, how you lay out the stories and the pictures. I was very naive because I had never been around anyone that published a book. This was all very new to me, and it took a lot of learning.

Your book is about more than weaving. I learned so much about Haida culture, history and society. Do you think it’s impossible to separate Haida weaving from the culture?

The first publisher I went to, they actually wanted me to do a how-to book. But the story really involves not only the learning, but the using of the baskets. When I was little, we used the spruce root baskets to collect berries. One basket would be for salmonberries and then another basket would be for blueberries. You didn’t use the same basket. I remember my mother was harvesting potatoes, and she was going to start harvesting turnips. I thought, I’m not going back to the shed to get the turnip basket, and when I brought the basket, she said, “What happened? You don’t use the same basket for potatoes as you do for turnips. You go get the turnip basket.” So, every basket that was woven was woven for one purpose.

I couldn’t separate the stories. When I was little, the old people were still using their baskets for their knives and forks and spoons. They didn’t let anyone touch the utensils that they use to put food in their mouth. I don’t know if that always was the culture, or if that happened because of all the tuberculosis, but I know that they had a certain basket for the utensils that you use to eat.

If that other publisher had gotten their way, we would have missed out on some really wonderful stories. One I wanted to ask you about was your connection to Long Ago Man. You have a family connection through your DNA, but can you tell the story about his hat?

Well, I was watching this story on Alaska news, and they told about these hunters from Vancouver, and one of the wives said, “Don’t go near the glacier.” Of course, they went near the glacier, and then they found this man’s body. They immediately went back to Whitehorse to tell the anthropologist.

They came back in a helicopter right away, and when the helicopter was landing, it stirred up the area around where they were landing, and the first thing that they saw was the hat. I called Sealaska Corporation and asked them if they would pay for my travel and my hotel in Whitehorse while I studied that hat. They right away said, “Yes.”

I went to Haines and this woman I know, who took some of my classes, met me. We got on the ferry and went to Skagway, and then we drove up to Whitehorse. When we got there, the Champagne Aishihik Chiefs were there, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I went over to meet them. But Ruth went right to the hat and she was looking at the hat because it was on the table. I introduced myself to the Chiefs and then Ruth called out, “Delores, get over here. We only have one day to study this hat.” So that’s what we did. There was a museum employee who helped us. She helped us count the rows and measure the warp and weavers. We really studied that hat all day.

The University of Alaska Southeast, the Sitka campus, there was an art director, and he wanted to write a history of my weaving, but he had to leave for Colorado. So, he left my story with [filmmaker] Ellen Frankenstein. Ellen said, “I would like to write something that’s currently happening.” I said, “OK, well, I found out after studying that hat that I was related through DNA to the man that they found beside the glacier.” She said, “That’s it. We’re going to write about you and your connection.”

We went to many different places [touring with Tracing Roots, the documentary film that followed]. We went to Indianapolis, we went to Washington, D.C. It was a very wonderful project.

You’re so connected to Haida culture, but you’ve also transcended boundaries between cultures. You’ve moved between Canada and Alaska. You’ve taught all over the world. You’ve collaborated with other First Nations.

Yes, and when I was weaving and teaching Tlingit, it was really wonderful that those Elders were sharing their intellectual property with me in teaching me how to do Tlingit basketry. I felt kind of awkward because it was intellectual property. I was in Haines, and they had a dinner and I happened to be there. I stood up and said, “It’s kind of embarrassing to me to be sharing your intellectual property.” This man who was a member of the town council stood up and said, “Our Elders recognized that you were a teacher and they knew you would bring it back to us. So don’t be embarrassed, because we’re honoured that you’re here to teach us how to do our own basketry, that you kept the intellectual property, so that we would continue to do it.”

From then on, I felt it was OK for me to teach other Tlingit. It really felt that Tlingit basketry was never going to be lost now, because these women felt so strongly about keeping the basketry culture, so I feel very humbled that I was allowed to bring this basketry to full status, where there’s many people and some wonderful Tlingit weavers now. I don’t take credit for it. I give the credit to our ancestors that didn’t want this beautiful basketry culture to go away. So, yes, I’m very proud of that.

When studying in museums, it’s so interesting to learn different things. I was studying the Haida baskets, and the weavers were only doing one, two or three different endings. When I went to the museums, I saw many different endings. I saw this one six-strand ending. When I saw that six-strand ending, I worked for two or three days on it.

Then I see a basketry hat that has a frayed ending, and I look at it and there is an addition that goes up and down vertical. I studied it and I saw a second vertical weaving in there. After a few days, I realized that’s braiding. You braid the vertical twine, and then you weave it, but you insert it vertically. So, I learned to do six-strand ending. But that difficult ending, I just knew I couldn’t teach it because nobody would be able to do it. For years, I didn’t do it.

But when I saw that ending on the Long Ago Man’s hat, I said, “My ancestors want me to teach it.” That’s when I start teaching all the different endings. I know actually more than 20 endings, but some of them are not Haida. I think only 18 of them were Haida, and that’s what’s in the book.

You talk in the book about the recognition of weaving as fine art, rather than simply a craft, and when I listen to you speak, and I hear the depth of your knowledge, it really shows that it’s truly an art form.

Yes, but you know, I always tell my students, “You call me a master, but I’m not. Every time I go to a museum and see those beautiful baskets that were so finely woven and those beautiful designs woven on the baskets, I get knocked down to kindergarten.”

Who was the audience that you had in mind as you were writing the book?

Well, I thought it would just be weavers. I didn’t think of anyone else being interested in a book on basketry, but I’m finding that many people are, so it’s really exciting. The Hydaburg school ordered 100 and it’s just a small school, so I’m really excited. Then another woman, when I sent her the original copy of the book, she ordered 65. I’m really happy that people are buying more than one.

There’s some tragedy in the book — the impact of the Spanish flu on your mom’s family comes to mind — but there’s also a lot of joy throughout the book. You specifically talk about the joy that weaving brings. Why do you think that is?

The first thing you learn when you start weaving is, don’t bring any problems to your weaving, because your weaving won’t turn out good. Always forgive everybody or anything you did, or if anybody hurts you, forgive them. It’s really like yoga when you’re weaving, because you have to be peaceful. You have to think of only good things. So, it’s really an important part of our life, and I’m glad it’s not going to be lost. Like I said in the book, they probably won’t remember my name, but the weaving will keep on.

Your daughters now teach and your granddaughters have also learned. What do you see as the future for weaving?

I think it’s going to keep on being a very important part of people’s lives. My great-granddaughter, she finished two hats already, and I’m really proud of her for continuing to weave.

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