Sherenté Mishitashin Harris (2023, Painting and Ethnic/Indigenous Studies)
Noh Waashpit (He who is effeminate) / The Twospirit's Dream, 2021
Oil, acrylic on canvas
Noh Waashpit, the Twospirit person, dreams of children. The Twospirit dreams of the generations that descend from the Royal House of Ninigret. An unbroken chain of Narragansett mothers spanning back to the dawn of our existence that can be found, calling out, in the Twospirit's mitochondria. Yet this line of succession comes to a halt with the Twospirit's birth. It will continue on without them. The Twospirit will watch it go by with tearful eyes. The Twospirit has received an inheritance it cannot pass on as others do. The pain of which tears apart the very notion of their character.
The Twospirit is close to death, just as their mother was when they were born. When the Twospirit puts their hand over their heart in sleep they have nightmares. Michachunk, the soul of the body that sits in the heart, taunts the Twospirit and tugs at Cowwewonk, the soul of the conscious mind that sits in the brain and travels to the transcendent depths in sleep. The Twospirit's heart bleeds out the stories of their ancestors. The ancestors dress the Twospirit's visions in the familiar patterns of the place from which we emerged as Narragansetts, knowing ourselves in the light of dawn.
-Red is the color of bodily life. Temporal, changing, dying and birthing life in time and space.
-White is the color of life transcendent, the illuminating light in which we awaken and the world is made clear. The chief Manitouog (spirits/gods/powers/forces) shine with white light.
-When the double curve design curves inward upon itself it symbolizes sleep and death.
The Twospirit was born face up, looking towards the heavens. From that moment onward they have existed in a place between two worlds- one of earth, one of celestial, one of man, and one of woman.
The Narragansett cut their hair when mourning, and look once again as they appeared as babies. Our children are sacred. They, like our elders, are caught between our world and another. If we mistreat our children or our elders they will be taken from us and depart to that mysterious place from whence they came.
The Twospirit's dream is sorrowful. It is a nightmare. The Twospirit's dream is filled with hope and deep seated wishes. Both hopes and fears dance inside you side by side.
The Twospirit protects and watches over the children.
Yet the Twospirit will never see their face reflected in a child that is their own, or so they fear.
All the lost children, the dream children, the Twospirit watches them float past over the waters, some finding their way home and some winding off the path. The Twospirit guards and guides those they can to the place where warm winds blow. Often, the Twospirit tries to hold the children close to their breast and carry them out of dream. Still, each new day comes and this world mocks the visions of the Between One. Perhaps one day the Twospirit will wake to find the promise of their dreams has followed them across worlds, and in the morning light they'll hear the cooing of a child's laughter, and it will all have been worthwhile.
Noh Waashpit (He who is effeminate) / The Twospirit's Dream, 2021
Oil, acrylic on canvas
Noh Waashpit, the Twospirit person, dreams of children. The Twospirit dreams of the generations that descend from the Royal House of Ninigret. An unbroken chain of Narragansett mothers spanning back to the dawn of our existence that can be found, calling out, in the Twospirit's mitochondria. Yet this line of succession comes to a halt with the Twospirit's birth. It will continue on without them. The Twospirit will watch it go by with tearful eyes. The Twospirit has received an inheritance it cannot pass on as others do. The pain of which tears apart the very notion of their character.
The Twospirit is close to death, just as their mother was when they were born. When the Twospirit puts their hand over their heart in sleep they have nightmares. Michachunk, the soul of the body that sits in the heart, taunts the Twospirit and tugs at Cowwewonk, the soul of the conscious mind that sits in the brain and travels to the transcendent depths in sleep. The Twospirit's heart bleeds out the stories of their ancestors. The ancestors dress the Twospirit's visions in the familiar patterns of the place from which we emerged as Narragansetts, knowing ourselves in the light of dawn.
-Red is the color of bodily life. Temporal, changing, dying and birthing life in time and space.
-White is the color of life transcendent, the illuminating light in which we awaken and the world is made clear. The chief Manitouog (spirits/gods/powers/forces) shine with white light.
-When the double curve design curves inward upon itself it symbolizes sleep and death.
The Twospirit was born face up, looking towards the heavens. From that moment onward they have existed in a place between two worlds- one of earth, one of celestial, one of man, and one of woman.
The Narragansett cut their hair when mourning, and look once again as they appeared as babies. Our children are sacred. They, like our elders, are caught between our world and another. If we mistreat our children or our elders they will be taken from us and depart to that mysterious place from whence they came.
The Twospirit's dream is sorrowful. It is a nightmare. The Twospirit's dream is filled with hope and deep seated wishes. Both hopes and fears dance inside you side by side.
The Twospirit protects and watches over the children.
Yet the Twospirit will never see their face reflected in a child that is their own, or so they fear.
All the lost children, the dream children, the Twospirit watches them float past over the waters, some finding their way home and some winding off the path. The Twospirit guards and guides those they can to the place where warm winds blow. Often, the Twospirit tries to hold the children close to their breast and carry them out of dream. Still, each new day comes and this world mocks the visions of the Between One. Perhaps one day the Twospirit will wake to find the promise of their dreams has followed them across worlds, and in the morning light they'll hear the cooing of a child's laughter, and it will all have been worthwhile.
From The Witching Hour, Granoff Center for the Creative Arts, January 23 - February 26, 2023
