Saturday Morning, January 23, 2021

Masks Required

Queequeg Queried

Silence swept the dining hall like wind caressing a wheat field. All eyes turned and locked on the stranger entering the room. Cafeteria tray in hand, he stopped and stared back, surveying the unchartered territory. He was huge. As tall as he stood, what was more glaring were his hands. Massive. Crush a rabbit. Cuddle a fawn. Rachmaninoff knuckles. His prison garb was bursting, muscles beneath rippling like an unchecked tide.

Caucasian camel saddle cover, 41" W. 68" L.
Symbols, identity, woven into each animal trapping.
Culture preserved in a distinctive art form for millenia.

He dropped his tray to the table then backed away. The staredown started. Unperturbed, he began removing his shirt. An audible shift in the crowd sounded as one prisoner glanced at another. Expectancy watched his every move. The buttons popped ahead of his cumbersome fingers. Then, pulling the shroud from his shoulders, he dropped the material to the floor. No catcalls. No whooping. Just a collective inhaling. Before them stood something they had never seen before. His skin color glowed a Tahitian brown, smooth, hairless, beautiful. Not a knife scar or track marks. A perfect palette for the tattoos adorning his body. He held all seven continents on his chest, the five seas around his shoulders. Every Cardinal point was covered. After a few moments of stillness, he swept his gaze across the inmates. Then, without fear, he smiled.

19th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1897-98.
Illustration of Wiki, Antelope Chief, page 974. Painted body marks were part of ceremonial rituals, each identifiable to one's respective tribe. Body adornment, a treasure trove for personal and clan identity. Tattoos, an indelible extension of this practice.

The One They Call the Seventh Son

Pandemonium erupted. Everyone talked at once. Plates banged on tables, cups on hands, as shouts rose to screams. Primeval. Who was this guy? His presence unhinged them. Each group, bound in brotherhood, scrutinized his inked body for clues. One inmate hopped up and approached him, circling slowly. The man never flinched. After careful inspection, the prisoner looked across the audience and shook his head no. His body language added to the confusion. No NO! How could this be possible? They had theirs. Three dots. Teardrops. Red lips. 311. Crowns. Guns. Letters. 23. Circles. All spoke affiliation. This guy had none! His rainbow tattoos were a language unknown, from distant shores. All threatening uncertainty. Flowering vines climbed his arms, wound about his ears, and curlicued up over his shaved head binding this masterpiece together. Yet, there was more. Facial designs reflected curiosity, not curse. Neck marks projected stability, not savagery. His world unnerved them.

Something old, something new.
Selection of children's watercolor sets.
Skills of decoration taught generation after generation.

I Am I Said

Food. Shelter. Clothing. The essential needs in life. There are more, though societal, not survival. Acceptance. Respect. Love. One word sums the latter. Identity. Who we are. How are we preceived. To satisfy these requirements, humans organize. First with family. Second through association, either professionally or fraternally. Each wear its chosen mantel. Scottish Tartan is a prime example. Car window decals another. University labels. Honor Roll achievers. All quantify their respective circles. Identity fills country clubs, community associations, churches. Belonging. I am somebody. I mean something. Tombstones scream this message until nature erases the words, the tired granite then morphing into a timeless symbol. Nothing holds terror in a tale like scroll-top headstones rising out of the mist. First chapter Great Expectations. Symbols transcend generations, reinforcing identity. The American flag, symbol of freedom. The Cross, offering immortality.

Woven & knotted salt bag, 24" x 24". Salt was an important ingredient for shepherds. The bags were filled with rock salt and carried for a specific purpose. Before moving their animals to greener pastures, those without a water source, the shepherds would feed the sheep rock salt, encouraging the animals to drink excessively. This way the sheep would graze longer at the new pasture, without requiring refreshment. The trick worked well. So well, a specially woven bag was provided.

Sign of the Times

Each Saturday, a wide range of items fill the gallery. Here we witness identity captured in style and design. It can be as simple as the lotus blossom, quilt patterns, Masonic jewelry. What we are doing by collecting them is reinforcing identity from the past, protecting it in the present, then releasing it into the future. The amazing part is, as civilizations rise and fall, these milestone markers survive. Despite the salt plowed into the fields of Carthage as ordered by the Romans, in time these pastures would green again. The cycle unperturbed.

The Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1897-98. Illustration plate XXIX, Painted stucco on East Half of North Wall, Mound 1, Santa Rita [Honduras]. Mesoamerican history, lost in jungle growth for centuries, has resurfaced in the past one hundred years, reinforcing cultural identity, a birthmark for the human race.

Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, created a curious cannibal named Queequeg. Here was a South Pacific native who had sailed the world. His tattoos symbols marking his journey. What was exceptional about him was his walking among men from far different cultures. Expected insults and slights never affected him. He rose above it all, instead, relying on the power from his runes. Could such a person really exist? One who shunned rejection and lived his life in his own way? A hard order. Most would fail. Identity requires association, conformity, judgment, and a fair share of kowtowing. In Queequeg we see independence, a man for all seasons. Then, without fear, he smiled. Here we discover envy. Ours. Queequeg remains very much at peace with himself. His identity intact in that. Were it so easy for the rest of us.

Caucasian woven and knotted rug, 30" x 42".
Oriental rugs throughout the Middle East have identified tribes for thousands of years. If you study these art pieces, you will discover symbols synonymous with Zodiac Periods spanning the 26,000 Great Year cycle. Designs repeated over and over insure identity.

Back Saturday to reinforce our identity. Brown Bros devotees.
Doors open 8 AM. Auction starts 9 AM. PA AU 1265L [bb]