Blue Ravens: Historical Novel (26 page)

Marie presented several of her own innovative paintings,
Femme Assise
, a nude with two masks and a red heart, a child with a doll, a woman with a red bird on her head, abstract scenes, dancers, and cubist figures. Aloysius commented on the red bird and told stories about his blue ravens, and the trace of rouge he learned from Yamada Baske. At first my brother was troubled that he could not show the ravens that night, but later he was grateful for a reason to return to the atelier and show his blue ravens to Marie.

Nathan was not familiar with the watercolors of Baske, but he mentioned Léonard Tsuguharu Foujita, an eccentric Japanese artist who once shared an atelier with Modigliani. Foujita ate and drank at La Rotonde and
the Café du Dôme. He wore earrings, a tunic, tattooed a watch on his wrist, and painted women, children, and many, many cats.

Marie told us she was born in Smolensk, Russia. She moved to Paris in 1905 and studied with Henri Matisse. Her atelier became a regular salon for Picasso, Modigliani, Juan Gris, the cubist painter, Ossip Zadkine, the sculptor, Chaim Soutine, the expressionist painter, Erik Satie, Jean Cocteau, Apollinaire, and Nina Hamnett, the wild bisexual artist, and many other artists and writers.

Aloysius politely interrupted her stories and revealed that the only artist he had ever meet was Yamada Baske in Minneapolis. My brother, however, was not an apologist for his limited experience. He continued with stories about our uncle Augustus Beaulieu who had published the
Tomahawk
, the first newspaper on the White Earth Reservation.

Marie was astounded to learn that natives actually published newspapers. The French romance of natives and nature excluded the possibility of any cosmopolitan experiences in the world. She could not believe that we had actually read international news stories on the reservation and sold papers at a train station.

Marie seemed to be impressed that my stories about the war were published in a series and distributed free on the White Earth Reservation. Natives read the stories and could better understand the experiences of the war. Nathan mentioned several other native newspapers, and specifically named the
Cherokee Phoenix
, the first native newspaper published in both English and Cherokee in Oklahoma Territory in 1828.

La Cantine des Artistes served cheap meals and wine to hungry artists and writers during the First World War. Marie was concerned that foreign and expatriate artists were desperate during the war so she started a soup kitchen, or canteen, at her atelier. She served meals to many artists, Picasso, Marc Chagall, André Salmon, Matisse, Jean Cocteau, Marie Blanchard, the cubist painter, Soutine, Braque, Léger, Cendrars, Modigliani, Jacob, Apollinaire, Zadkine, Béatrice Hastings, Pina, and others. Russian artists, dancers, creative writers, and revolutionaries were even more miserable at the time. Leon Trotsky and Vladimir Lenin dined at the
canteen.

The atelier and canteen became a regular gathering place for artists after
the cheap dinners were served. The Café du Dôme, restaurants, and other cafés were closed at night because of a war curfew, but the canteen was a private atelier and salon, so the artists congregated in the alley for music, dancing, and the politics of art late into the night. The canteen closed at the end of the war, a few months before we had arrived in Paris.

Paris homes and apartments were seldom heated, and partly because of a serious shortage of coal. The Germans destroyed the coalmines at the end of the war, a demonic vengeance. Hotels provided hot water for baths only on the weekends. Cafés were heated and a natural place for artists and writers to gather on a cold day, or any day.

Aloysius presented that morning at the gallery his most recent portrayals of blue ravens. My brother had painted eighteen war and river scenes in a new book of art paper. Nathan touched only the deckle edges, raised each blue raven scene to the light and studied the hues and details, and then he placed the paintings on a rack against the wall. He was silent, and sometimes caught his breath as he compared the ravens one by one. Several times during his close and deliberate review of the paintings he looked out the window, turned back, and then smiled. His concentration was a complement to any artist.

Nathan never commented as he studied the blue ravens, not a single word, until he had placed the entire collection of paintings on the rack. Only then he raised his hands and declared that the blue ravens were the creation of an intuitive painter, a genius and visionary of original native totemic art. Nathan was truly inspired by the scenes, the traces of rouge, and considered the abstract images a natural course of innovative native art that would be reviewed as avant-garde. He considered most native art as visionary, scenes in natural motion, innovative in color and composition, but never primitive. The blue and green buoyant horses, for instance, in native ledger art were mistaken as naïve and primitive art. Nathan worried that the suave salons and museum curators would only convey the mundane romance of primitive art and disregard the most obvious creative wisdom of visionary native expressionism. Native artists were inspired by the seasons, natural reason, motion, chance, and a sense of presence, not by perspective, harmony, monotheism, pious customs, or the hocus pocus of theatrical modernism.

Naturally, my brother was pleased, and relieved, because the close review
was by a respected art trader and collector. Nathan announced that he would frame the blue ravens and display several at a time in the Galerie Crémieux. When two sold he would present three more paintings, and in that way indicate the precious nature of the portrayals, and the natural totemic tease of
les corbeaux bleus
, the blue ravens.

Aloysius later that morning created a throng of blue ravens at the entrance of Le Chemin du Montparnasse. The great abstract wings embraced the cubist beaks of seven ravens, and the tiers of baroque talons were traced with rouge. That evening we were invited to dinner at the atelier and my brother presented his most recent blue painting as a gift to Marie Vassilieff.

Marie studied the blue scene of the enormous raven wings and talons at the entrance of the ateliers, and named three cubist beaks as the raven simulations of Apollinaire, Picasso, and Marie Vassilieff. Picasso was a raven with a blue beak. Apollinaire was a raven with traces of black, a funeral scene. Marie the raven was painted with bright blue eyes, and with traces of black on the mane. She was touched by the gift of original native art, and told my brother to pose, then and there at the end of the huge banquet and canteen table, for a silhouette portrait. At the same time she created a silhouette of me. Marie had prepared a roast turkey dinner in our honor, and then she told more stories about the great banquet several months earlier for Georges Braque.

Modigliani, she declared, could not remember that he had been pushed out down the stairs and into the alley. She promised to invite us to parties at Le Chemin du Montparnasse.

Marie was beautiful, an elegant portrait in the muted light at the end of the table. Her voice was clear, and her words were mellow and meditative. The precise motion of her hands enhanced the stories. I was captivated by her blue eyes, and encouraged more stories about the banquet, and about the hungry artists and writers who were served meals during the war. I never wanted to leave the atelier.

Marie agreed to read poems by Guillaume Apollinaire. The sound of her poetic voice and the words of my favorite poet changed me that night. The images of poetry created visual scenes that lasted forever in my memory. I heard her voice in every poem. Marie read several poems from
Le Bestiaire ou Cortège d'Orphée
,
Alcools
, and
Calligrammes
in French.

I raised my glass of wine to honor the memory of our cousin Ignatius
Vizenor who died in combat three months earlier near the commune of Montbréhain. The spirit of our cousin returned to the earth of his fur trade ancestors.

Aloysius raised his glass and proposed a toast to honor the
voyageurs
, our ancestors of the fur trade, and the great traders Jefferson Young, Odysseus Young, Julius Meyer, and Henri Crémieux. My brother told several stories about Misaabe, Animosh, and the mongrel healers on the White Earth Reservation.

The stories that night turned to native totems and animals, and the presence of animals and birds in art and literature. Marie was perceptive about animals, but had not thought about the visionary presence of animals and birds in art. She looked around the atelier at her collection of paintings and wondered how animals and birds could be imagined in the scenes. Léonard Tsuguharu Foujita painted many domestic cats, but no other animals.

The
Manabozho Curiosa
came to mind late that night as the stories turned to native totems and animals. The ancient monastic manuscript described the sexual practices and pleasures with various animals, mostly furry. The carnal curiosities of wayward monks were transcribed in the fifteenth century. The monks lived near natives at the headwaters of the
gichiziibi
, the Mississippi River.

Aloysius was worried about the response to my native stories about the sensuous monks. He smiled and then turned toward the window. Nathan cocked his head, and seemed to wonder if my stories were actually about sex with animals. Marie encouraged me to continue with the fantastic animal stories. She surmised that the Japanese painter Tsuguharu Foujita must have had
érotique
thoughts about his many cats.

I made it clear that the monks would never mount domestic animals, and were stimulated only by wild creatures, a union of monastic habits and animal curiosities. Nathan was a great listener and celebrated the irony of the curiosa stories. He insisted on the story of an actual sexual encounter with an animal.

I recounted the ancient stories of the erotic scenes of monks and rabbits, and especially that night because of the culinary preference for
civet de lapin
, rabbit or hare stew in France.

Marie poured more wine, served cheese, and leaned closer to hear the
érotique
stories of monks, masturbation, and animals. I was excited that
night by her blue eyes, and by the portrait of her graceful nude body. I could imagine her erotic eyes in the portrait, and her nude presence at the banquet table. Naturally, my descriptive stories of sensuous animals were more passionate in her presence, and in that sense more ironic.

The monks were aroused by the erotic reach of the snowshoe hare and masturbated on the soft, white, silky coat, a natural pleasure of the season. Everything about the snowshoe hare was erotic. The monks transcribed the sensual pleasures of huge soft paws, and the warm underbelly as the hare browsed on bark. The monks wrote other erotic stories about bears, beaver, otter, and white-tailed deer. Sensuous encounters with a porcupine were the most favored and ironic of native storiers.

Marie was amused by the
érotique
hare stories. She watched me closely and seemed to anticipate in the tone of my voice traces of irony. I decided not to continue with the actual descriptions in the manuscript of masturbation with totemic bears, beaver, and sacred river otter.

I paused and then turned the stories to a parody. The monks were teased by natives, and mocked in stories and mimicked in seasonal dances. A native shaman created the
debwe
, a heart dance that mocked the eroticism of the pious monastic monks. The reach of the snowshoe hare was one of the most sensual poses of the ironic heart dancers.

That night at the atelier never ended in my memory. Marie was forever a presence in my stories, and came to mind in every reference or trace of art and literature in France. I heard the gentle tone of her voice forever in the poetry of Apollinaire.

Nathan had never traveled across the ocean, but he accepted our invitation to visit the White Earth Reservation. The next day the trader introduced us to several art galleries, including the gallery at 28 Rue Vignon owned by Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler. He decided not to go with us to the Musée du Louvre. Yet, he urged us to return soon and set aside a week or two to view some of the great treasures of art in the vast collection.

Nathan insisted that he escort and introduce us to the Musée d'Ethnographie du Trocadéro, the national ethnographic museum of African, South American, and North American Indian art and cultural objects. Most of the cultural objects had been stolen, seized as colonial possessions, and some obtained by trade. Many French explorers had returned with cultural booty, the sovereign rights of godly conquests and a covetous civilization.
The Canadian National Railway gave the museum huge native totem poles. The ancestral poles were from British Columbia. What right does a railroad have to give away native cultural property?

The building was cold, damp, and smelled moldy. Scientists and ethnographers hoarded tens of thousands of cultural objects and art in the museum. The collections had been misused, neglected, poorly displayed, and in disarray. I understood why the trader was determined to show us through the museum. He actually resented the way native objects were treated, and wanted natives to object in the name of cultural property.

Aloysius was furious that the museum had abandoned native arts. Ethnologists, he shouted in the corridors, were no better than the thieves of the native property. Pablo Picasso, he learned later, had visited the museum about ten years earlier and was depressed by the musty building and disregard of the objects. African masks had partly inspired his cubist portrayals of the women in
Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.

France was rightly shamed by the musty museum, and the cost of the war was no excuse to abandon the collection. Native cultures and sovereign nations were peculiar unions and at times enemies. Civilization in the name of national museums never conveyed a real prominence in the humane protection of native art. The notion of civilization represented as much shame in the world as headway and betterment.

The first scandal of enlightenment was the theft of cultural and sacred objects. The second scandal was the abuse of precious cultural memories. Yet, the actual native spirit of the art was never shamed or abused by possession. Native art was collected in a national ethnographic museum for the first time with art from other cultures around the world, and the voices of the spirited artists have been heard forever in museums.