_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________   Victor Mayayesva Jr. '70   Back to Alumni Interactive Home Page Victor Masayesva Jr. ’70 Tells Hopi History through Hopi eyes   Nearly 40 years ago Victor Masayesva, Jr. ’70 set out on a Greyhound bus from his home in Hotevilla Village, Arizona and headed east to New York City and Horace Mann. The young teen was invited to attend the school by former teacher Tek Young Lin, who was interested in recruiting students of different backgrounds to Horace Mann. Tek Lin also happened to be seeking runners for his cross-country team. Growing up on the Third Mesa lands of Arizona’s Hopi reservation had given Masayesva plenty of space and opportunity to perfect his running, and the invitation enticed him. “I had no idea where I’d be going, or what kind of school it was. My father only agreed to my going so far away because when he heard the name, ‘Horseman School.’ He thought I might learn something that could be useful when I returned home,” Masayseva recalled. Victor Masayesva Sr., far from being innocent about what his son would learn in New York, no doubt offered his musings tongue-in-cheek. An accomplished agriculturalist, in more than half-a-century of farming, the senior Masayesva is known for the blue and white flour corns, sweet corns, beans, squash, watermelons, cassava melons, and fruit trees whose produce he has been able to coax out – and prepare traditional Hopi recipes from – even during times of drought.             That long Greyhound bus ride not only took Masayesva thousands of miles from his home. It also represented a leap across cultures. Masayesva comes from a village that, in the year 2000, had a population of 767, a size of 11.9 square miles, a median household income of $13,750, and an adult population of whom 4.4 percent held a bachelor’s degree or over. At the time these statistics were compiled Masayesva’s own academic degrees factored into that percentage. Victor Masayesva hails from a family that has served in leadership roles in his tribe for centuries, and, as a child he well expected to follow that tradition. Leaving home during his adolescent years for his schooling at Horace Mann, and staying away during his college years as an undergraduate at Princeton, meant breaking away, for a time at least, from the path Masyesva’s ancestors and siblings pursued. It also meant arriving to a Horace Mann and a student body that was, itself, beginning to break away from the school’s time-honored traditions, as American society faced off against the moirés of previous decades.    Observing and absorbing cultural collisions It was the Sixties, and up in Riverdale the boys were straining at the stitching of their required jackets and ties, while their older brothers – both literally and figuratively – were taking part in demonstrations on the Columbia University campus only a few miles away, or at college campuses throughout the country. This was New York, and the coming of age for adolescent boys at Horace Mann resembled none Masayesva had experienced before. It was the Bar Mitzvah, and whether Jewish or not, whether as a celebrant or as an invited guest to the ceremony and party, this was a right of passage in the life of the boys at Horace Mann. For the introspective and observant Victor the social and personal transformations being experienced by the students and witnessed by the teachers made an impression.  A member of the Horace Mann Class of ’70, Victor is remembered fondly by fellow classmates who stay well-connected through their frequent e-mail contacts initiated by classmate Dr. Franklin Lowe ’70. As the class prepared to celebrate its 35th reunion, held in October 2005 over Homecoming weekend, classmates hoped Victor would return to New York to join the commemorative events. Victor was remembered as a well-liked and active participant in a variety of organizations and sports teams while at Horace Mann. Upon his graduation The Mannikin was candid in its profile of Masayesva, writing: “It is always hard for one who comes from a separate culture to become part of the uninviting, revolving sphere of school life. Such a person cannot speak and hope to be heard; he must prove himself through tangible accomplishment. Victor did just this. He played soccer, ran cross country, and was never embarrassed to take part in class discussion. Moreover, Victor was a sensitive, giving person. This can be seen by his participation in the Tutoring Project. Victor was a congenial member of the class, but he remained, above all, an individual.”     Perhaps it is because Victor Masayesva experienced a clash in cultures at a young and impressionable age that much of the rest of his life’s work has concerned examining how one culture is understood by another, and how a peoples’ history should be told. He has explored that question in a series of highly-regarded films, as well as through his photography and writing. For indigenous people Masayesva’s work speaks to those asking the same questions. For viewers accustomed to the conventions of film, his work is challenging. Hauntingly beautiful, their answer is clear: history – a people’s story – must be told by those for whom that story equals experience. Above all, Victor emphasizes, these stories must be preserved within their own culture, and passed down. Upon graduation from Princeton Masayesva returned to his home state to study photography at the University of Arizona. Again, he was flirting with another cultural contradiction. Today guidelines posted on the website for Hotevilla Village tell tourists and travelers that “photographing, recording or sketching of villages and ceremonies are strictly prohibited.” The reference is to photography and other depictions by outsiders, and the prohibition stemmed from the use, or past misuse, of photographs taken of Native Americans, and of rituals and ceremonies that were private to each tribe. The practice, even as applied to insiders, can be tainted by suspicion, and Victor had been away from home for awhile. One of his personal challenges was to reintegrate himself into the rhythms of daily tribal life in order to depict it – not so much for the outside world, but to preserve it for the Hopi of Hotevilla themselves.     An artistic pioneer Yet, Victor was driven to tell a story. He cherished the artistic and poetic possibilities of photography, and recognized, early on, the potential of the then nascent world of video storytelling. Portable, increasingly affordable, and able to be operated by a small crew or even an individual, Victor became a pioneer in the medium, as well as in the idiom of experimental film and video. He promoted its use among individuals and groups with traditionally limited access to mainstream media, to enable them to record their own history, and depict aspects of their own culture. Masayesva, thus, became a voice in the world of “guerilla” as well as experimental video production, and is recognized for his influence today.   “Victor Masayesva’s work had a huge impact,” said Dr. Fay Ginsburg, Director of the Center for Media, Culture and History, Center for Religion and Media, in the Department of Anthropology of New York University. Dr. Ginsburg, on behalf of NYU, was one of the organizers of the May 2005 First Nations/First Films showcase at the Museum of Modern Art, along with MOMA and the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian. “That’s one of the reasons we put his work in the showcase. He was such a groundbreaking pioneer in terms of the work he did and in terms of his aesthetic bravery.” The films shown at MOMA were Itam Hakim, Hopiit and Ritual Clowns. In the 1982 release Itam Hakim, Hopiit Masayesva observes the cycle of the seasons, ceremonial rituals and the rituals of everyday life through a graphic unfolding of Arizona’s breathtaking natural landscape that echoes the rhythmic storytelling technique of a tribal elder. Masayesva’s Ritual Clowns, which the filmmaker released in 1988, has been a controversial work, and Victor, himself, withdrew it from circulation years ago because it intimately conveyed an infrequently shared aspect of Hopi tradition. At MOMA Masayesva discussed his decision to first keep the film hidden for nearly two decades, and to allow it to be shown again last year. His intention, the filmmaker said, was to make sure the young people of his own tribe were aware of their heritage. Dr. Ginsburg explained that Masayesva originally worked only in Hopi, until he was persuaded to make a film in English. “His battle was to find something Hopi that could still be presented across cultures. What Victor was saying in his work was ‘I’m really, really not going to be Hollywood. There is another medium out there,’” Dr. Ginsburg said. The professor credited Victor with the great influence he had on other prominent Native American filmmakers. Dr. Ginsburg especially lauded Masayesva for organizing a film festival in Arizona in 1994 that brought together indigenous people from all over the world. There Victor showed his film Imagining Indians in which he looked squarely at Hollywood and the Native American experience, and at the appropriation and depiction of Native American images, objects and rituals. Dr. Sally Berger, assistant curator in the Department of Film and Media at MOMA agreed with Dr. Ginsburg’s assessment of the importance of Masayesva’s films, and recalled how MOMA became aware of his work. “Victor was one of the first Native American artists to work in experimental video. He came to our attention after he wrote us a letter letting us know of his work. He had made Itim Haki, Hopiit in 1982 and this was around 1986. Subsequently, we invited him to do a ‘video viewpoint’ program. “Victor’s work is often about a way of looking, rather than facts. In Victor’s world life is about the seasons and the cycles of the day. The work is poetic and the photography in it is very beautiful. It’s a poetic expression of the history of the Hopi people. In the context of our video showcase, to show the progression from realism to a visual expression, as it is portrayed in Victor’s work, made this work important to include in a video-art context. “What Victor did was help to broaden the interest of others in Native American film. He is one of several Native Americans working in the medium. Victor was not an isolated case, and he would not take credit for the attention he brought to this work because his is not an individualistic society, but he did help create a body of work,” Dr. Berger said. Dr. Berger offered this analysis following the showing of Masyesva’s films at MOMA last spring. Victor came to New York for the festival to discuss his work with viewers. Among those in the audience was former classmate and noted musician Richard Trifan ’70. The two are now working together on music for another Masayesva film. Looking out across the screening room Masayesva told the audience he had gone to school in New York, at Horace Mann. He then recalled the former Horace Mann art teacher who had influenced him strongly. Said Masayesva, “I feel as if I see Ion Theodore sitting right there.”     Masayesva’s many-faceted mission  Masyesva’s appearance in New York last May marked his second return to the City in recent months. The first was for a showing of his films at the prestigious Margaret Mead Film and Video Festival at the American Museum of Natural History in November 2004. At the November 2005 festival viewers saw Masayesva’s Paatuwaqatsi: Water, Land and Life, described as a “grassroots resistance video.” Masayesva also offered a sneak preview of his work-in-progress, Pensoyungkam: People with a Pencil.  The film refines the filmmaker’s investigation into how history is transmitted, and how the way history is told varies when it is recited by those who have experienced that history, and those about whom history is told. Pensoyungkam: People With a Pencil is a film that will be relevant not only to  Masyasva’s own Hopi community, but to everyone interested in history and its telling. The project is on hold now, however, as Victor completes a film he was asked to do by a Native American tribe based in New Mexico. He is also working on a film to be completed in honor of Hotevilla’s upcoming 100th anniversary. “We’re a very young village,” Masayesva said. Masayesva’s illustrative photographs have appeared in numerous books on Native American history. These, and his more experimental work, in which he often combines avant garde photographic technique with depictions of traditional subjects, have been shown in dozens of exhibits. A collection of photographs, entitled Husks of Time, The Photography of Victor Masayesva by Rane Arroyo, will be published in February 2006. Along with his film work and photography, Masayesva devotes a great deal of his efforts to the people of his village, the Native Americans of surrounding communities, and to Indigenous People everywhere. He has taught many people – young and older – film and depictive story-telling techniques. On a more “hands on” level, one aimed at addressing an immediate problem in his community, Masayesva created an interactive computer program for young people that deals with health issues, and particularly with promoting proper diet and exercise among a community facing a dramatic increase in diabetes and juvenile diabetes, a disease previously foreign to Hopi culture.   Continuing connections, and fighting the coal company Classmates missed Victor Masayesva at their 35th anniversary reunion at Horace Mann in October 2005. Tied up with the film he is working on in New Mexico, and just coming off the hard work of his village’s autumn corn harvest, Victor was not able to tear himself away from the Southwest long enough for the trip to New York. Having been away from home during the young years of his life, Victor says it is important for him to stay close to his village and to his family today, to be able to participate with his own son in binding and time-honored rituals. Finally, for Victor Masayesva and members of his Hopi tribe history is still being written. Together with the Hopi leadership and community Masyesva is involved in a fight to retain sources for the water that is already so scarce in the region. Now drier than it has been within the collective memory of their community, according to climatologists, the canyon country of the Colorado Plateau, where the Black Mesa of Arizona is located, is undergoing a drought unequaled in 1,400 years. Not only has rainfall been slight, but winter snows melt quickly in an era of global warming, and wildfires have ravaged upland watersheds. Water from the springs the Hopi for centuries relied upon today trickles because of accelerated pumping of the Navajo Aquifer – the sole source of drinking water for the villages of the 1.5 million-acre Hopi Reservation and to many ranches on the neighboring Navajo Reservation. Since 1965 the Peabody Coal Company has also drawn upon the Hopi water source, pulling as much as 1.3 billion gallons of water from the ground annually in order to slurry coal from its Black Mesa mines in a 273-mile pipeline to the Mohave Generating Station in Laughlin, Nevada. Victor’s brother Vernon Masayesva, was a leader in the struggle to stop Peabody from pumping Hopi water, and Victor, himself, has described the issue in his film Hopi Water Run. Finding a satisfactory end to this battle is of primary importance to Victor today. Participating in the political action necessary to address what, for the Hopi, is an increasingly urgent matter of both physical and spiritual life and death, superceded even the desire he had to leave Arizona even for a short time to connect with old friends. The battle comes to a head in December 2005 when Peabody Energy, as the company is known today, is being asked to honor agreements through which it was to stop pumping water from the Navajo Aquifer that feeds Hopi lands. The world’s largest private-sector coal company, which had a $3.6 billion in revenue in 2004, shows no signs of stopping its pumping or strip-mining activities, despite organized opposition from such groups as the Sierra Club and Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s Riverkeeper Organization. With these odds, it’s no wonder Victor is poised for a fight. As the educational materials of the Black Mesa Trust (www.blackmesatrust.org) founded by Vernon Masayesva, explained “Water is not a commodity to be bought, sold or wasted… Water is sacred, especially in the Black Mesa region where water is the key to our survival.” On his trip to the East Coast in May 2005 Masyesva made the acquaintance of HM alumnus Alvin Josephy, Jr. ’33, a noted writer on Indian history. Three decades ago Josephy had chronicled the threat that the Peabody Coal Company’s pumping posed to the already environmentally compromised lands available to the Hopi. While, at the age of 90, the older alumnus’ memory dimmed on aspects of the struggle, Josephy and Masayesva shared words about how important it was for Native Americans to maintain the battle for this limited resource. Josephy passed away at his home in Connecticut this past October – during the month that Victor Masyesva, Jr. participated in the harvest and its accompanying rituals, preventing him from making that reunion trip to his former school in New York. But, when he visited Horace Mann last May, and connected with and reacquainted himself with former alumni – with Trifan, with Josephy – one thing was apparent: The journey that began for Masayesva from so far away nearly 40 years ago, the journey that seemed so foreign back then, was not so culturally disconnected after all. Here was one alumnus who could connect musically with Victor’s filmic vision; here was an alum from long ago whose cares were Victor’s own. On that fine day in May when Victor visited Horace Mann he leaned against a tree his friend and mentor Tek Lin had planted, and looked up at the cherry blossoms reflected in the windows of Tillinghast Hall where he had once studied. Horace Mann had changed a lot since his days as a student here, Victor reflected, but the change was for the better. “When I was here you didn’t see that many faces like mine – different faces, faces of color. There were no women here in those days. We wore suits and ties. This looks like an exciting place.”
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