In honor of Chamorro month, here is another writing on the ancient Chamorro from the book, Estorian Inalahan.  This material will be presented by Dr. Judy Flores to students and the public at the Pacific Island Ethnic Art Museum in Long Beach California on March 25th, 2012 at 11am.

A highly valued item of exchange was the turtle shell.  Its value was determined by the difficulty involved in catching.  Therefore a turtle captured at sea would have more value than one caught on the beach.  Anyone who caught a turtle was required to present it to the magalahi of the clan, who determined its value and how the turtle shell plates were distributed.  Early chronicles describe the wearing of turtle shell plates by high-status women, who fastened cords to the holes drilled in the plate and wore it like an apron.  They also hung turtle shell pendants from the garlands around their heads as part of their dance adornement.  Chamorri were buried with turtle shell valuables, described in early accounts.  Turtle shell, unlike seashell, decays and disappears in burials.

Sinahi

While the value of turtle shell was documented by early visitors to the Marianas, nothing has been noted about the crescent-shaped Tridacna piece which has been found in burials.  Considering its carefully worked shape and highly-polished finish, this sinahi (quarter moon), as it is called today, was probably very valuable in ancient Chamorro society.  It could have been worn by chamorri as an indication of wealth and status.  One of several pieces could have been hung together as a display of wealth in the payment of tribute to a victorious clan or as an exchange valuable to form alliances between clans.  

Related photos and descriptions can be viewed in the book, Estorian Inalahan

Saina Maase

In observance of the upcoming month of March, Chamorro month on Guam, we share this writing on Ancient Chamorro fishing.

Ancient Chamorros were excellent fishermen, both in deep sea and within the reef shallows.  Fishhooks were made from pearl-shell.  After contact with western cultures, they traded for iron nails, which they fashioned into more durable fishhooks.

Fishing lines were made from coconut fiber and pagu (wild hibiscus tree) fiber.  Several types of nets made from pagu fiber were used, such as large dragnets (chenchulu), gill nets (tekken), and short hand nets (lagua).

Sinkers for the nets were made from rocks, and floats from puteng (Barringtonia asiatica) seeds.

Wooden spears, called fisga were used for shallow reef fishing (Cunningham, 1992: 33 Thompson, 1932: 46-9).  Spear fishing was done in shallow water with a bone-tipped spear also called a fisga.  Fishhooks described earlier were also made of turtle shell, or fishbone, and sometimes had a coral shank.

Night fishing in the lagoons was done with a torch that attracted the fish to the light where they could be speared.  Underwater spearfishig took place in deeper water.  A method of stunning fish by poisoning a tidal pool with ground puteng seed (Barringtonia asiatica) was probably used in times of emergency or scarcity.

A 1602 description of activities following a fishing expedition gives clues to the Chamorro rituals of daily life:

• ‘When these indios return from fishing, they display a signal symbolizing the catch; if they have caught a large fish, the banner is large.  They go out in the morning and return at two o’clock.  By that time, the fisherman comes ashore, four of his sons – provided they are old enough, if not, his brothers or his relative or his friends – immediately take his funei (canoe) out of the water and place it beneath a large boathouse that they have for that purpose.  Consequently, their boats never remain in the water overnight.  Shortly after he returns, the fisherman dives into the water and stays under for a short time.  When he comes ashore, his closest friend brings him a large calabash filled with water and, with this, he washes from head to foot while his friend washes his back.  After this, he very slowly walks home.  In the cleanest spot beside his house, he spreads a well-washed clean woven mat and lays fresh palm fronds on it.  On top of this, he places his blue marlin, or his mahimahi, or whatever fish he has cuaght, and begins to cut it open with a stone knife – though now they all use iron ones.  As a special gift, he distributes the blood, entrails, fat, and intestines to the children who have carried the fish home for him and places the raw mass in their mouths.  They enjoy this as much as children in Castile do when a large pig is slaughtered and their mother distributes the blood sausage among those at home and sends some to others outside.  In like manner, these people slices pieces from the back of the fresh fish and send them to their neighbors.  The remaining part of the fish is salted according to certain ritual procedures.  One of these is that , after the fish has begun to take the salt well, the tie a long cord from the door to the palm tree approximately eight or ten bracas [equivalent to 1.67 meters] away.  The indios will detour to the other side of the house when they see this sign because they know that there is fish being salted on the side where the cord has been strung (Druverm [1602] 1983: 209).

from  Life in Ancient Inalahan , Estorian Inalahan, page 9

This is the full story as told in the book, Estorian Inalahan.

Malagua’i, was a powerful chief of Tomhom, in the north of Guahan.  He came to Inalahan in his canoe to challenge Gadao.  Upon beaching his canoe on the bayside, he met a man whom he mistook as a servant or assistant to Gadao.  The man was in fact, Gadao; but he continued to pretend to be Gadao’s assistant and invited Malagua’i to sit and eat while they awaited Gadao’s return.

While they waited, Gadao began to prepare food.  First, he obtained coconuts from a tree by shaking the tree instead of climbing it to pick the fruit.  Next, he squeezed the cream from the coconut by twisting the unopened nut in his bare hands.  Seeing this, Malagua’i thought to himself that if the assistant was so strong, how much stronger must be the chief; and he decided to leave.  

The legend of Gadao batik* by Judy Flores

As he got into his canoe, Gadao revealed his true identity and jumped into the other end of Malagua’i's canoe.  Malagua’i paddled furiously toward the sea, and at the same time Gadao paddled in the opposite direction.  The strength of the two men was such that the canoe broke in half.  Malagua’i shot out to sea in his half of the canoe, while Gadao’s half cleaved into the land, creating the Inalahan river.  Following this battle, Gadao wrote about the story in the cave at the mouth of Inalahan Bay.  

In actuality, we do not know the age of these cave writings, nor their meaning.  Who knows?  Maybe this piece of oral history comes as close to the truth as we will ever find.  A bronze statue of Gadao in his half of the canoe is located near the north entrance to Inalahan, near the head of the bay and the mouth of As Misa River.  The statue was commissioned and dedicated by Inetnon Famalao’on in 1986.

*the legend of Gadao batik is a downloadable gift upon registering with Guam Batik Gallery.

Thanks to Samuel Flores for the use of his Gadao painting photograph.

If a society is able to produce some type of art, it uplifts that society. They have something that makes their identity… It’s more than just a physical, day by day struggle to put food on the table. It’s a sign that that society, that family, that whoever it is, has aspired to greater things – Judy Flores

U Matuna Si Yu’os spoke with Ms. Flores recently on the nature of art and the role of the artist in the life of faith.

Q: When younger generations are asked, “What is art?” the response is often, “Whatever you want it to be” or “Whatever you think is art.” For the rest of us, things might have artistic qualities or they might be pleasing to the eye, but that doesn’t necessarily make it art. Now comes the simplest but hardest question: what, to your mind, is “art?”

A: To me, art is a way to elicit emotions from the viewer, and my philosophy has always been to elicit this feeling of beauty and peace. I know art can elicit other things, but those are the emotions I wanted to draw out of the viewer.
I remember after I’d already graduated from University that there was a very dynamic professor there, and the art department was thriving. But it was ugly art. Yes, it was art, but it wasn’t something you would ever want to see in your house. His philosophy was that it was eliciting responses from people, it can influence change, to elicit horror or a rebellious nature, and that’s what he was doing. There were letters to the editor in a back-and-forth about people not liking what he did, and he would respond.
My response to this is that I really don’t want art like that in my living room. Art is a very personal thing. It is something I want to live with. Yes, it can be used for other things, but my manipulation of art is to help people make a connection…That’s what I do with my art.

Q: Your answer reflects the understanding of art as for the sake of beauty itself. That’s the traditional view of it—even the Catholic philosophical view of it. Some Catholics like Etienne Gilson note that art is not really about expression for the artist; it’s an act of making. The expression comes in the receivers’ response to that act of making. Do you think that philosophical approach to art holds water: as an “act of making” since there is a real skill, or craft, in this type of production?

A: Yes, there is a craft in the production of feeling, the projection of that feeling, for someone else to get. The feelings I get are, to a certain extent, projected and received by a number of people. They like my art because it reminds them of things that are likewise important to me.

Q: That issue of craft seems to pop up and seems to get to the heart of how some of us understand art. Jackson Pollack, for example: his work might be visually appealing, but it’s hard to argue that he demonstrates a real craft there.

A: That’s true to a degree. Early in my art studies in college, and even now, I appreciate an abstract piece if I can see what the artist has gone through—if they can really manipulate the art-form, to have the discipline to know what they are doing, then I am better able to appreciate their abstract art.

Q: In Islamic societies, visual arts are very representative because of religious proscriptions, so artistic forms such as calligraphy are given great priority. The society seems to force the art form, and yet the art-form helps to shape the society to remain that way. With this in mind, what in your opinion is the role of art in society at large, both in Chamorro culture and in society at large, from an artist’s point of view?

A: I think the role of art in society is to uplift the society into a realm of critical thinking and responding to more of a spiritual shift, a response no matter what the religion, to more than making a living and buying enough bread for the day. If a society is able to produce some type of art, it uplifts that society. They have something that makes their identity, and it’s all about their identity and their well-being. It’s more than just a physical, day by day struggle to put food on the table. It’s a sign that that society, that family, that whoever it is, has aspired to greater things.

Q: Moving to the milieu of faith or religion in general—and this question is not meant to be specifically Catholic—how do you see the proper role of art within the realm of religion, or does it even have a legitimate role?

A: In general, looking at the contributions of art, it was patronized by religion for centuries and it supplied this beautiful art, regardless of whether or not we believe in the message the artist is giving us. We just have these beautiful masterpieces because of the patronage of whatever religion. I think religion and religious institutions have done a lot in providing and ensuring an “art history” and providing a standard, so to speak, and have uplifted and allowed artists to project what they hope to inspire in the viewer. If they [religion and religious institutions] didn’t do this, they would still be writing on cave walls.

Q: There’s an old saying in theology that goes: “Lex orandi, lex credendi:” in other words, as we pray, so we believe. So they actual practice of worship tends to dictate the tenets of the belief system. One of the great criticisms of the Church since the 1970s is the gutting of churches, the removal of all art, the removal of statues, and the general appearance of churches that they are just sacred spaces. Using that illustration of architecture as art, how do you interpret the visual arts, music, or any musical modality as “shapers” of faith? Do you see it as transformative in that sense, or do you think that’s overstating the case for the power of art?

A: No, looking at art in the broad sense, the great cathedrals were there for poor people, rich people—anyone could go there and receive through the architecture. I believe it certainly inspired prayer. Not only that, it gave them icons to which they were drawn, and aided in their worship. The art was an intimate part of preparing a person to meditate, to reach out in a spiritual way, because they were surrounded by this atmosphere, and the arts were central to that. The architecture, the paintings, the music. All of it.
For myself, I feel very fortunate to be able to surround myself with art. It really has contributed, if you will, to my quality of life. How drab our lives would be if the arts did not or could not affect us in this way!

Q: Regarding the “vocation” of the artist in the Catholic sense of the term, the artist it would seem based on the awesome power of art does indeed have a “vocation” within the Church, particularly since it does seem (in the Catholic sense) grounded in a certain kind of “making.” How would you interpret the vocation of the artist? What does that mean to be an artist in one’s identity and how one’s life and vocation are lived out?

A: I feel very privileged to have done case studies and to have been around people whose vocation is art. They are not getting rich from it, there is no monetary incentive or reasoning for why they are doing this. Their convictions and identity is tied to this vocation as an artist and in artistic and cultural renewal. No matter what, a person with a vocation in the arts is going to strive to do that. They live and breathe it…And that’s what a vocation is.

Next week, U Matuna Si Yu’os will feature the conclusion of our conversation with Judy Flores on the role of art in the renewal of Chamorro culture and identity.