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magazine of the philadelphia folklore projectVolume 19:3 winter 2006-2007 ISSN 1075-0029● Tibetan mandalas● Hmong culture● Anti-racist zone● Wobbly songlore● Ukrainian weaving

Works in progress is the magazine of thePhiladelphia Folklore Project, a 20-year-oldpublic interest folklife agency. We work withpeople and communities in the Philadelphiaarea to build critical folk cultural knowledge,sustain the complex folk and traditional arts ofour region, and challenge practices thatdiminish these local grassroots arts andhumanities. To learn more, please visit us:www.folkloreproject.org or call 215.726.1106.philadelphia folkloreproject staffEditor/PFP Director: Debora KodishAssociate Director: Toni Shapiro-PhimMembers’ Services Coordinator: Roko KawaiDesigner: IFE designs + AssociatesPrinting: Garrison Printers[ Printed on recycled paper]philadelphia folkloreproject boardLinda GossIfe Nii-OwooEllen SomekawaMary YeeGermaine IngramYvette SmallsDorothy WilkieJuan Xuwe gratefully acknowledgesupport from:●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●The National Endowment for the Arts,which believes that a great nationdeserves great artsThe William Penn FoundationPennsylvania Council on the ArtsPennsylvania Historical and MuseumCommissionThe Humanities-in-the Arts Initiative,administered by The PennsylvaniaHumanities Council, and funded principallyby the Pennsylvania Council on the ArtsThe Philadelphia Cultural FundPhiladelphia Music Project, a grant programfunded by The Pew Charitable Trusts andadministered by the University of the ArtsThe Pew Charitable TrustsThe Malka and Jacob Goldfarb FoundationThe Samuel Fels FundIndependence FoundationThe Philadelphia FoundationStockton Rush Bartol FoundationPhiladelphia Cultural Management Initiative,a grant program funded by The PewCharitable Trusts and administeredby the Drexel University ArtsAdministration Programand wonderful individual PhiladelphiaFolklore Project membersWe invite your support:thank you to allFront cover:Paj ntaub of thejourney of theHmong peoplefrom Laos toThailand, duringthe War. Fromthe collection ofPang XiongSirirathasukSikoun. Photo:Will Browninside3 From the editor4 We try to be strong: Pang XiongSirirathasuk SikounBy Sally Peterson8 The witnessing of patience:Losang SamtenBy Toni Shapiro-Phim10 The Big Red Songbook: 100Years of Wobbly SongloreBy Archie Green1 2 My art is my passionBy Vera Nakonechny1 4 What you got to say? EricJoselyn’s artBy Debora KodishAbout the extra cover…The Anti-Racist Zone signincluded here was originallyproduced by Eric Joselyn aspart of a series, created foruse by activists convening inPhiladelphia in response to atide of Anti-Asian violenceand immediately put to usein the streets. 1992

Knowing our place / going on 20The Folklore Project turns 20 thisyear. One thing we know for sureis that we are just beginners inthis work. This issue of Works inProgress features writing by andabout people who have beenengaged for much longer thantwo decades in the cultivation offolklore and local knowledge.These are people devoted tocommunity, deeply responsible tothe times and places where theyfind themselves. These arepeople who know particulars—details of ordinary experienceand exacting craft— that escapethe notice of many. Another thingthat we know: this matters a lot.In one of my favorite books,Wisdom Sits in Places,ethnographer Keith Basso writesof riding the Arizona landscapewith Apache friends who instructhim about local place-names.Handed-down and “handsomelycrafted,”these names (rarelyfound on maps) are fine storyprompts. Telling what happenedhere, making claims andjudgments about the history ofa place, stories do a great dealof useful work. Some stories tellabout people’s experience, aboutfoolishness and wisdom. Othersprovide guidelines for how tobehave, for how to live a goodlife. And taken together, thesestories give people intimateconnections to the places wherethey dwell.Place-names (and stories aboutthem) are disarmingly simpleforms of folklore that do powerfulwork. They keep us responsibleto other people and other times.Intensely local knowledge,folklore anchors us to communityand reminds us what is at stake.These pages share examples ofpeople using folklore to namewhere they stand, to payattention, to work for balance,beauty, equity and justice.In the 1910s and 1920s, underthe leadership of Ben Fletcher,an African American dockworkerand a union organizer for theInternational Workers of theWorld (Wobblies), thefrom thePhiladelphia docks were unusualin being racially integrated. In hisessay on Wobbly songlore in thisissue, eminent folklorist ArchieGreen shows what might beknown of such radical workingpeople as Fletcher through therecord of the songs they mayhave sung. What did workershave to say in these songs? Whydid they sing? In what languages?For what causes? Archie’s writing,to be published as the preface tothe forthcoming Big RedSongbook roots PFP in time andplace as well, for his lifelong workhas paved the way for a publicinterest folklore agency like ours.Artist Eric Joselyn’s handyreworking of a common streetsign (What rules do we reallywant to require? What prioritiesshould the state really follow?)and his clip-and-use fortune-tellerare 20th anniversary gifts toreaders: examples of the kind ofplayful seriousness with whichthis artist engages the world. Aretrospective exhibition of Eric’swork, “What you got to say?” isin PFP’s gallery through February.Adapting folk traditions andpopular culture, Eric has foundhis place supporting localstruggles, and the show is asampling of what a range ofpeople have had to say, often atsome risk, over the past 25 yearshere. In March we will open asecond retrospective exhibition.This one documents a differentslice of more than 28 years ofcultural work here, featuring pajntaub textiles from the workshopof Upper Darby artist Pang XiongSirirathasuk Sikoun, who hasover the decades organizeddozens of other Hmong womenand kin in stitching versions ofHmong peoples’ experiences.Their changing needleworks tellstories of a rememberedhomeland, war and loss, andresettlement. Just as important:the needlework has served as anongoing and reliable resource fornegotiating these challenges.One of three immigrant artistsfeatured in this issue, exiledTibetan sand mandala-makerLosang Samten carries his senseeditorof place with him— by turningany space at all, whereverhe finds himself, into a sacredspace through his art, bringingus with him. Shaping mandalas,Losang teaches patience,perseverance and a sense of theinterconnectedness of all things.(He will be in residence at theFolk Arts Cultural TreasuresCharter School this winter—the school that PFP founded withAsian Americans United.) VeraNakonechny’s commitment toreconstructing specific ethnicUkrainian weaving traditions—beginning with the traditionsof the Hutsul region where hermother was born— has carriedher across three continents, anddistinguishes her activities herein Philadelphia. She is literallyhelping people re-knit theirconnections to home places withher needlework. The ethnic andtribal patterns were forbidden,and dangerous to make, underSoviet rule, and much has beenforgotten. Her work countersthis loss.These artists remind us: thereis no lack of important work tobe done. We register in thesepages concerns with diminishingfreedom of expression, literacies,patience, local knowledge: allcore folklore issues here andnow, requiring attention.Every day in Philadelphia, folkarts — mandalas, paj ntaub,songs, weavings, slogans,demonstrations and more— areamong the resources people useto enact responsibility to oneanother and to this place, nowhome.No less than Apache ranchingfamilies long in a single place,all of these people are experts ina kind of local knowledge: theyknow where they stand, and inrevealing the details andcomplexity of this knowledge,they help us to know where we,too, need to stand.— Debora Kodish2006-2007 Winter WIP 3

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Paj ntaub (story cloth)from Pang XiongSirirathasuk Sikoun.Photo by Will Brown.Inserts, top to bottom:Pang Xiong and herfamily in Laos, c.1959. Pang playing ajaw’s harp, with T-BeeLo. Photo: JaneLevine, 1993. Pangand other Hmongwomen in the earlyyears of producing pajntaub for sale here inPhiladelphia. Photo:Tom Morton, c. 1990by Sally PetersonPang Xiong Sirirathasuk Sikounpang XiongSirirathasuk Sikounsays that she wouldlike to make a movieof her life in fourparts. Pang Xionghas lived in Philadelphia,and devoted herself tosustaining Hmong culture,for more than 28 years now.She and I worked togetheron several projects in the1980s. My visit now, after along absence, comes whenPang is preparing aretrospective exhibition ofher needlework, and inparticular the paj ntaub(flower cloth) of the Hmongpeople, an art that she hasdeveloped in many wayshere in Philadelphia. Shebegins to reflect on a lifethat began 63 years ago inXieng Khouang province inthe mountains of northernLaos, not far from theborders of Vietnamand China.The first part of the movie,explains Pang, wouldestablish the geographic andhistorical setting of theLaotian Hmong, an ethnicgroup that migratedsouthward from China to thenorthern highlands ofSoutheast Asia severalhundred years ago. Selfreliantand industrious,Hmong clans farmed thelands alongside theirmountain-top villages andslowly expanded theirsettlements throughout thehighlands of Laos. Thoughwithout a written languageuntil the 1950s and thearrival of Christianmissionaries, the Hmongretained a highlysophisticated oral literatureand history, and the womenexcelled in minute anddelicate forms of embroideryand appliqué thatembellished their clothing.In Pang’s movie, thepicturesque scenery of theLaotian highlands and thestability and familiarity ofhome, family, and traditionform the backdrop to thelove story of her parents,which ended tragically withthe death of her motherwhen Pang was just sevenyears old.“In the second part of mymovie,” she says, “thecommunists come.” In1945, when Pang Xiong wasjust one year old, theoccupying Japanesesurrendered the country tothe French, who had ruledLaos since 1890.Vietnamese-backednationalists struggled forcontrol, and Xieng Khouangwas contested territory. Oneof Pang’s earliest memoriesis a hurried departure tonearby caves to escape abombing attack. “Where ismy spoon? Don’t forget myspoon!” She laughs toremember her childishanxiety in the face of suchdanger. She knows she waswearing toddler clothing, soshe must have been abouttwo years old. “I loved myspoon, I had my own spoon.And my little basket forthe back.”Pang Xiong’s safe,insulated Hmong worldchanges in part 2 of hermovie with the death of hermother and the constantthreat of war. Life isdangerous and difficult.Though only seven, she isthe older sister. Her motherwas her father’s third wife.There are 14 children to carefor. She learns quickly,helped by her aunt and hergrandmother. A stepmotherjoins the family with severalof her own children. Thenshe too dies in childbirth.There are more children tocare for, and soon a newmother and new siblings.Describing the events thatformed her character, PangXiong introduces themesthat echo throughout herstory: the obligation tofamily and the value ofselfless generosity. Herfather, Xia Cao Xiong,encouraged her to be strong,to understand her place inthe extended family, and tohave compassion for itsother members: “My fathertold me, ‘You have a dad.But they don’t have a dad.Your mom can help you, butyour dad is like a tree[Continued on next page ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 5

Samples of pajntaub from Pang’sworkshop by WillBrown.standing up, and you are like abird under the tree. They don’thave the tree. So you are happyalready. Accept for them to callme their dad. Sometimes theyget more than you. But don’tbe jealous. Love is moreimportant.’”If Pang Xiong’s movie has amessage, I think it must bean inspirational one. Her innerwellspring of exuberant lifeand dynamic creativitycannot be suppressed.Pang Xiong always wanted tobe either a teacher or a nurse—she needed to help people, shesays, but she also wanted theuniform! But her father couldnot afford to formally educate agirl. Xia Cao knew his daughterwas bright, and a good learner,and so he encouraged her tobecome a student of Hmongculture itself: to learn to cook, tosing the intricately rhymed kwxtxhiaj songs (used in a kind ofsemi-improvised verbal displayand duel, during courtship), toplay musical instruments, to doher paj ntaub. Xia Cao sharedwith his daughter his ownrepertoire of Hmong lore,teaching her things not usuallyshared with children so youngor with females. A shaman whodiagnosed and treated spiritualand physical illnesses before hisconversion to Christianity, XiaCao was also versed in theprotocols and recitations ofmarriage settlement mediators,knew the legendary stories ofHmong history, and enjoyedtelling a good folktale. PangXiong quickly excelled as a kwxtxhiaj singer and developed herpaj ntaub skills, executingminute and complex crossstitchpatterns. She learned tofold and cut the intricatedesigns of Hmong appliqué,anchoring the cut fabric to thebacking cloth with tiny "mosmos" stitches, intrigued by thechallenges of the unfoldinggeometry. The two-inch-squaresshe produced became bordersfor jackets, collars, aprons, andskirts for herself, her brothers,and her sisters.“One day I had to know howto read,” she says. She repeats,in a whisper to herself, “Oneday, I had to know how toread.” She persuaded herbrother to teach her so shecould read and answer thenotes coming to her from boys.Soon she had organized theyounger brothers and sistersand the household tasks wellenough that her parentsallowed her to attend the nightclasses offered by the localChristian pastor’s wife.Eventually, the family wouldrely on her ability to learn.Isolated no more, Hmong6 WIP Winter 2006-2007

Pang Xiongteaching childrenneedlework. Photo:Jane Levinevillagers in 1954 Xieng Khouangwere at the edge of a war thatwould eventually engulf them.Ho Chi Minh’s communist forcesdefeated the French at Dien BienPhu, not far to the east inVietnam. Soon refugees fleeingthe communists beganstreaming into Xieng Khouang.Pang Xiong’s family soldproduce and farm products tothe new arrivals. Pang Xiongbecame fluent in Lao and Thai:languages used for exchangeamong people from many ethnicgroups who spoke different“first” languages. An able andeffective communicator, she wasquick to read nuances ofcharacter and motivation. Sheunderstood the persuasivepower of language and behavior,and she used it wisely. Oneterrifying night, her emergingabilities were put to the test.In the late 1950s, the PathetLao communists, backed byNorth Vietnam, began anoffensive to occupy moreterritory in Northern Laos. PangXiong recalls Hmong soldiers ofthe opposing Royal Lao Armyinterrupting a community-wideNew Year’s celebration andordering everyone to evacuatebecause the Pathet Lao wereexpected to overrun the areavery soon. Taking only whatthey could carry, the villagepopulation fled. The next night,Pang Xiong, her sisters-in-law,and her younger brothers creptback to feed the animals, cookfood, and retrieve whateverthey could from theabandoned farm. It was toodangerous for men and olderboys to go; the Pathet Laowere detaining those ofmilitary service age. Pang’slittle group had almost finishedits tasks when an enemy patrolinterrupted them. Pang Xiongnerved herself to respond gailyto the suspicious questions:“No, no, we didn’t run away. Weare just farmers. No, no, wedon’t know any soldiers.” Thecommander believed her and letthem go, but she never saw herhome again.In the late 1950s, Thailand andthe United States becameincreasingly concerned aboutthe growing influence ofMy father told me, ‘You have a dad.But they don’t have a dad. Yourmom can help you, but your dad islike a tree standing up, and you arelike a bird under the tree. Theydon’t have the tree.’Vietnamese-backed nationalistspursuing a socialist agenda inLaos, supported by both theSoviet Union and the People’sRepublic of China. Prohibited by[Continued on p. 21 ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 7

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y Toni Shapiro-Phimthe witnessing of patience:losang samtenAmandala (literally,“circle”) isan intricate diagramof the universeor cosmos in sacredterms. Ancient Buddhist andHindu temples built as mandalasstill dot South andSoutheast Asia. In BuddhistTibet, further north, mandalashave been painted on walls orscrolls since around the 12thcentury. Tibetan mandalas canalso be made out of coloredsand. Each of the numerousTibetan mandala designs hasits own complex iconographyand its own purpose—to heal,to represent and teach compassion,to explore the rootsof suffering, and so on.Losang Samten has beenpainting mandalas with sandfor more than three decades.Born in Tibet, and a residentof Philadelphia for the past 18years, Losang made his firstsand mandala in the U.S. in1988 after the Dalai Lama,Tibetan Buddhism’s highestrankingspiritual authority,invited him to work on a pieceat the American Museum ofNatural History in New York.Whether the site is a museum,a Buddhist temple, a library,or a school, artists of sandmandalas both share theirunderstanding of the cosmosand create a temporary sacredspace through their “paintings.”Artists may work ona single intricate design forweeks, painstakingly layeringgrains of colored sand. Yet, inkeeping with the Buddhistprinciple of impermanence,ultimately the picture is wipedaway, the sand ceremoniouslypoured into a lake or river orsome other body of water,where it becomes, again, onewith the environment.Losang is particularlyintrigued by the design knownas “The Wheel of Life,” whichhe has recreated many timesover the years. “I have seenthe power of this mandala tointroduce ways for people tostart asking questions aboutwhere the suffering of ourworld comes from and ourindividual and communitytroubles as well,” he says.“When they start to ask thesequestions, and to see theroots of suffering, they can actin ways that will changethings for the better. Theimpact is on the individual, aswell as the community.”The Wheel of Life mandala,as Losang explains, focuseson the cycle of birth, death,and rebirth. “There are four[Continued on p. 26 ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 9

point*of viewThe BigRedSongbook:100 Yearsof WobblySongloreFew workers’ associationsin the UnitedStates exist longenough to celebratetheir centennials. Tradeunions, fraternal organizations,and neighborhood alliances allfall victim to shifts in ideologicalor physical environments.Before a labor union reaches itshundredth year, it is likely tohave merged with parallel orsubordinate groups. Thus, membersface their anniversarieswith diverse feelings: do wehonor old age alone; is it onlysurvival that matters; or, alternately,do we elevate a particularsymbolic emblem or specialformulation to representout identity?From its inception in Chicagoin 1905, the Industrial Workersof the World chose as its guidingcause revolutionary industrialunionism. To the extent thatIWW members concerned themselvesconsciously with culturaltheory, like rival radicals, theyrelegated expressive materialto an auxiliary role. In short,bedrock economic struggletook priority over secondaryartistic forms.Songs, stories, sayings, skitsand related ephemera commentedupon class conflict, but didnot rise to the level of directaction in mine, mill, forest orfactory. Whether rebel viewedwork through Darwinian orMarxian eyes, each job sitedetermined the contour of lifeitself. A song, however categorized,might ease a worker’spain, help in getting through theday, or, even beyond individualneeds, assist in transformingsociety.As 2005 approached, in recognitionof the IWW’s centennial, agroup of friends discussed thepossibility of publishing The BigRed Songbook, a comprehensivegathering of songs andpoems as they appeared in thevarious editions of the IWW’s“Little Red Songbook.” Theseindividuals did not constitute aformal (or even an ad hoc) editorialcommittee. We undertookto research and write the variousportions of the new edition,forthcoming from the Charles H.Kerr Publishing Company. It ismy task, here, to present anoverview of IWW songlore.Even before the IWW’s formalchartering a hundred years ago,farsighted industrial unionistsspoke in many tongues reflectingdifferent nativities andphilosophies. Accepting theresponsibility of building a thennewworkers’ movement, laborunionloyalists, anarcho-syndicalists,and socialists framedtheir messages in a rainbow ofvoices. Similarly, hard-rock miners,straw cats who harvestedwheat, fruit and other crops,lintheads in textile mills,mariners, castaways and wanderersshouted or whispered astheir separate skills demanded.Some IWW writers and oratorsboth in their journalism and10 WIP 2006-2007 Winter

y Archie GreenFlyer for strikingIWW members,1920s, and LittleRed Songbook.From PFParchives.soapboxing mastered highrhetoric; others favored vernacularstyle. Readers of the IWWpress and street-corner listenersencountered language derivedfrom Shakespeare and Shelley,as well as the saloon and thebrothel. Unlike many radicalsbefore and after 1905, the IWWaccepted strange accents, surrealdeliveries, zany humor, and pungentcartoons as proper in theorganization’s discourse.IWW words declaimed or sungin poem and song functionedsimilarly to those in writing.Industrial-union pioneers did notcreate a rich body of songloreeither by calculated design or bydivine inspiration. Rather,founders came to Chicago wellacquainted with plural musicalgenres: classical radical fare (e.g.items in Socialist Songs withMusic, issued by Charles Kerr,1901); popular hits of stage andparlor (Stephen Foster to IrvingBerlin); evangelical hymns(Dwight Moody and Ira Sankey);traditional occupational folksong(not yet gathered in publishedanthologies but present inplural craft, regional, and ethniccommunities).In short, to understand theIWW’s contagious musical blend,one must hear in the mind’s earrebel unionists who knew“L’Internationale” and “LaMarseillaise,” as well as homespunshanties and ballads indigenousto ranch bunkhouse, hobojungle, or mountain miningcamp. Before and during theIWW’s formative years, textileworkers literally sang “HardTimes in the Mill”; coal diggersand hard-rock “ten-day stiffs”shared the mournful “Only aMiner”; itinerant toilers alongcountless miles of railroad tracksspun out pieces such as “BigRock Candy Mountain”— instraight or bawdy form, compensatoryvehicles for rootlessness.Of the many musical idiomsavailable to IWW members, oneform dominated: the polemical.With the appearance of IWWnewspapers (Industrial Worker,Spokane; Solidarity, Cleveland),readers submitted new tests usuallyset to then-popular vaudevilletunes or gospel-hymn standards.Editors varied in theirreception to minstrel contributions;they printed some items intheir journals and others onpocket-sized cards, reminiscentof earlier broadsides. In 1909, theSpokane IWW branch gatheredtwo dozen numbers, new andold, into a red-jacketed booklettitled Songs of the IndustrialWorkers of the World.In 1968, Richard Brazier reminiscedabout his role on the committeewhich prepared the firstsongbook. A few of his wordsreveal the editors’ rationale:“…to destroy the old myths thathave enslaved us for so long. Wewill have songs that hold upflaunted wealth and threadbaremorality to scorn, songs thatlampoon our masters…[Oursongbook] will exalt the spirit ofRebellion.”Subsequent editors in 1910-11added phrases to the booklet’stitle such as Songs of theWorkers: On the Road, in theJungles, and in the Shops; Songsto Fan the Flames of Discontent.No one knows who first taggedthis gathering the “Little RedSongbook.” It proved to be theIWW’s most popular publication;it caught on beyond the Union’sranks.The nickname “Wobbly” begancirculating in 1913-1914; it hasbeen joined at the hip to theorganization’s songbooks. In continuousprint from 1909 to thepresent, these booklets havegone through 37 editions.(Bibliographers still puzzle overthe exact number of printingsand the sequence of editions.)Over the years, editors havedeleted particular items either fordated content, in response to[Continued on p. 27 ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 11

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mother to visit her homeland,her native village, and relatives,after 50 years of separation.During that trip I alsotook the opportunity to visitthe Hutsul region. It was avery exciting and emotionalvisit. In one of the villages theHutsuls were having an annualfestival, and besides samplingthe traditional foods, Ihad the opportunity to seepeople wearing differentstyles of embroidered patterns,with breath-taking colorcombinations and compositionsof old and genuineHutsul folk costumes.But speaking with some ofthe younger Hutsul women, Ifound out that they didn’tknow how to embroider withthe nyzynka technique. Duringthe Soviet occupation theauthorities would severelypunish you if you wereembroidering or weaving traditionalethnic or regional patterns.Their objective was todestroy any Ukrainian art andto create the so-called Sovietart for everyone instead. Somuch knowledge was lost.That really puzzled me, andupon returning to the States Icontacted Mrs. Sorochaniukfor help. She put together apackage of embroidered samplesof “nyzynka” patterns,instruction manuals, and herbook and sent all this materialto the local Hutsul embroideryguild group back in theUkraine, and also to teachinginstitutions in the Hutsulregion. Thanks to her actions,there is now a strong rebirthof nyzynka embroidery techniqueamong Hutsul people.I have now made 12 trips toUkraine, and I have discoveredthat the embroidery patternsand woven componentsof the traditional folk costumesfrom other parts ofUkraine are just as beautiful—colorful, with complicatedmotifs—as those from amongthe Hutsuls, where my mothercame from. I was especiallyintrigued by the “plachta”from the Poltava region. Theplachta is a two-panel skirt,joined together with a specificunification stitch. This patternand style has not been taughtfor a long time and wasalmost forgotten. It was difficultto find someone whoknew the techniques. Throughpersonal contacts, I gainedaccess to the Lviv Folk ArtAcademy in order to learn toweave this skirt.To my surprise, I found outthat the looms and otherequipment in the LvivMuseum were very old andoutdated. This was in 1993,only two years after Ukrainehad become independent.The budget of the old SovietUkraine had intentionallyneglected the Museum: nofunds had been appropriatedfor new equipment or otherbasic Museum expenses. Theelectricity was still rationed,so all the work in theAcademy shops had to bedone during daylight. When Iwas there, one day, just as wefinished threading the loom, itgot dark—all the lights in thebuilding were turned off. Butwe needed more time to finishthe job. So I took a miniflashlightthat I carried in mypocketbook, and that is howwe finished the project!Now Ukraine is in the fifteenthyear of independence,and things have improved:the equipment has beenreplaced or updated, and themuseum’s electricity andheating have been restored.I have continued to pursuemy studies of Ukrainian folkarts. For the past two years Ihave been traveling toUkraine looking for someonewho knows a special wovenbelt technique. It seems thatno one can understand howto make it. I even went to theCollege of Textiles here inPhiladelphia for help, andthey also have no idea howthis is done. Recently I wastold that in two remote villagesin the neighboringTernopil and Bukovynaregions there are some oldweavers who still know anduse the technique. My plansnow are to go to Ukraine, totake with me a small portableloom and the necessarythreads, and then to stay inthose villages until I masterthe technique.For the past 12 years I havebeen traveling to Ukraine toconduct research on embroidery,weaving, and beadworkin order to further my knowledgeof these folk arts and tobetter understand my ancestors’rich culture. I have beenamazed to see the hiddentreasures stored in the vaultsof every museum I have visited.At the same time, I havebeen horrified to see thearchaic methods used in thebattle with the moths! Manyirreplaceable artifacts weredestroyed by infestations. Inmy visits, I have shared what Ihave learned over the years,and I have forged relationshipswith others equallycommitted to the preservationof these traditions.My art is my passion, and Ifeel a strong need to learn asmuch as I can about the millennium-oldfolk culture of myancestors so I can pass it onto a younger generation. I amso grateful for all that I havegotten: the knowledge, therelationships with artists. Wehave become one big family,on two sides of the world,puzzling over this art formthat was supposed to be lost.Vera Nakonechny at aloom. Courtesy ofartist. Photos of detailsof her work: WillBrown.2006-2007 Winter WIP 13

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y Debora KodishEric Joselyn:“ yougotWhattosay?”PPolitically active his whole life, Eric Joselyn is knownamong an extended community of activists as aninvaluable resource. Rarely credited publicly, he is a prolificworking artist who has been turning peoples’ demandsand dreams into eye-catching (and conscience-catching)physical and visual expressions for decades. Withoutrecognizing it, you may well have seen his work displayedstreet-side: at local demonstrations for immigrants’ rights,at antiwar protests, at street theater against racism.Thousands of Chinatown residents and allies fighting tostop the city from putting a stadium in Chinatown woret-shirts Eric designed. He crafted many of the cardboardbulldozers, puppets, costumes, and signs that local peoplecarried to City Council chambers to protest against thecity’s use of eminent domain to displace poor and workingfamilies from their homes. Aiming to even the odds forsocial justice movements, his deceptively simple arts andcrafts are good tools for popular struggles.Eric Joselyn photo, and photos of his work, courtesy of the artist[Continued on page 18 ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 15

CLIP, FOLD & USE YOUROWN ERIC JOSELYNFORTUNE-TELLERPAPER TOYPart of the material culture of childhood, these foldedpaper toys have been used as fortune-telling devicesand for other playful purposes for at least 50 years.They are widely reported, and have been described inmany variations and by many names, including “fortune-tellers,”“salt cellars,” “film star oracles,” “wigglewaggles”and “cootie catchers.”* Contemporary artistshave made use of the form; mathematicians use themto teach basic principles. Eric Joselyn made this one fora “free-trade parade” that was part of the PhiladelphiaFringe Festival in September 2006. Suited “capitalists”passed out the fortune-tellers to spectators: a bit of funto open crowds to the critique.How to make it:x Cut the folded paper off at the -------.x Fold the “Dupont” corner over to meet the “GulfWar Oil” corner, and uncrease.x Fold “Enron” corner to meet “Dupont” anduncrease.x Flip the toy over.x Fold all four corners over so that they meet in themiddle. (Four full squares and eight triangles willbe showing).x Turn it over. You should be looking at 16 triangleswith “fortunes.”x Fold each of the corners in to the middle. Youshould see 8 triangles: “Dead trees,” “Toxins,”“My S.U.V.”, etc.x Crease the square in quarters, through the middleof each flap. (If you flip it over, you will see the4 squares. )x Back on the side with the 8 triangles, bringthe outside points together in the middle.x Pull out the square flaps: “Dupont,”“Gulf War,” etc.x Place thumb and index finger in each flap tomanipulate.* For examples, see Iona and Peter Opie, The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren (1959), Maryand Herbert Knapp, One Potato, Two Potato (1976), and Simon Bronner, American Children’sFolklore (1988)16 WIP 2006-2007 Winter

eric joselyn/continued from p. 15You don’t usually find Eric’s workin a gallery. The Folklore Project’sexhibition this winter is a rarechance to see a sampling of morethan 25 years of his efforts all inone place: high-spiritedhandmade props fordemonstrations, stylish do-ityourselfbanners, a forest ofwords on signs, and texts filledwith painful reminders of theconstant need to fight for justice.The exhibitioncatalogues timehonoredand newlymintedforms ofpolitical expression—banners, placards, t-shirts, buttons, badges,puppets, and toys—each representingsome pressing concernof the last twodecades. Theexhibition is also acompelling inventoryof some of thestruggles of localcommunities.Eric Joselyn’s work challengescommon notions of art-making inmany ways. His work is not aboutindividual creativity for its ownsake, or about novelty orreputation. Creative, inventive,and fundamentally about what aprincipled individual can do,Eric has a clear commitmentto standing with others. Thewords on signs and banners don’tjust come from this artist alone orrepresent a singular vision: theycome from groups of peoplemobilizing together. As an artist,Eric is about facilitatingcommunity expression on issuesthat matter. He says, “Puttingvisual tools into the hands ofpeople working to turn thissystem over gives me a big doseof my kind of aesthetic pleasure.Traditional community skills andpopular cultural traditions havetaught me a lot about building ahappy and democratic oppositionto the greedy, hateful societyfoisted upon us. I’m offering ideasfor tying our art to the ceaselessdrive of regular peopleeverywhere to build a betterworld. I am excited byseeing the things wemake put to righteoususe towards arighteous end.”Folk arts play an importantrole in his politics and style.Growing up in a politicallyprogressive midwesternfamily, exposed to examples ofbusy people who made beautifuland useful things by hand. Hisgrandmother encouraged hisartistic inclinations, and providedmany examples of how everydayfolk arts, lovingly made, couldbring beauty into people’ lives,while also sustaining a family. Heremembers her quilting, sewingand canning: many-colored jars offruits and vegetables preservedlike exotic specimens in thebasement. The Minnesota StateFair, with its annual gathering ofthe work of peoples’ hands—prize vegetables, kids withanimals they had raised— isanother valued touchstone forhim of how ordinary peoples’artistic productions can bepublicly celebrated andappreciated. These grassrootscontexts for art-making, ratherthan galleries and formalinstitutions, were importantmodels for him, as he tried todefine his own role as an artist.It wasn’t an obvious road forsomeone with a clear anddeveloped politics. Eric’s talentsand inclinations set him on anartistic path, but the conventionalrole of a school-trained galleryboundartist just didn’t feel right.He studied art at the University ofMinnesota, but resisted the pushto disconnect from the world,retreat to a studio, or hone apersonal vision and skills. Hesays, ”That I almostneed to make stuff is afact. But I just couldn’tspend my days insome one artist-oneproduct-one consumerequation. I eschewedthe label of ‘artist.’ Iwas something else.”Eric says that it tooktime to find a way “tobreak through such aclosed circuit.”He eventually came to seehimself as part of a long line ofcultural workers: “from naughtyballadeers in pre-RevolutionaryFrance, to woodblock cutters andjugglers spouting mass line inturbulent China, to the wives whosewed those gorgeous union localbanners with all the gold tasselscarried before the 8-hour day waswon.” And then there werebroadside printers and artists,who turned out pointed political18 WIP 2006-2007 Winter

eric joselyn/continued from p. 16messages on hand-printed sheets.Like all these artists, Eric found aplace, shoulder to shoulder withothers, helping to shape andbroadcast peoples’ messagesloud and clear. By now, he hasserious street credibility as acommunity-based political artist.As the exhibition makes clear, hehas contributed his artistry andpolitical savvy to countlessprogressive efforts, creating“multiples” (flyers, t-shirts— workthat can be handed up or postedin large numbers) and “highlyvisables” (banners, puppets, andthe like). He aims tochange the world, tomake popularmovements “lookbetter” (adding aesthetics andstyle), and to encourage people tohave fun in the process.These values alsoinfuse his teaching,another way that he“engages with bignumbers of others.” Hehas now spent decades workingwith young people, painting walls,making prints, and teaching inpublic schools. (He currently is theArt Teacher at the two-year-oldFolk Arts Cultural TreasuresCharter School, a project of AsianAmericans United and thePhiladelphia Folklore Project.) Asa teacher in and outside of theclassroom, he democratizes artmaking,making it do-able, fun,and a way for young people andactivists alike to exercise power.And of course, nothing is wasted.Eric uses (and re-uses) materialsat hand— cardboard, wit and will.There are lessons, and politics toeverything.Twenty-some years after heleft Minnesota, Eric hastransferred many of thepolitics, values, and ethics ofeclectic folk arts to Philadelphia’sgritty streets, and to thecommunities among whom hehas made a home. He continuesto produce arts that areaccessible, meant to be used,grounded in freely-sharedknowledge, essential to sustainingmeaningful relationships, aimedat making a better world. In hishands, art continues to advancecollective efforts and alternativeperspectives. In a saner world, inanother time or place, he wouldhave been a village potter, ormade things with cloth, he says.Given these times, his approachto art-making is to use native wit,a keen sense of politics, and astorehouse of traditional arts andexpressions to amplify people’scapacity to speak to one anotherand to be heard. His work remainshuman-scaled, democratic,subversive, and quite literallycommunity-based: his headand hands and skillsare invested in thecapacity, andstruggles, ofcommunities to makepressing andnecessary changes.“What yougot to say?”Exhibition of art byEric JoselynAt the Folklore Project735 S. 50th St.Philadelphia, PAThrough February 10Open 1st Saturdays(10 AM - 1 PM) and byappointment: 215.726.11062006-2007 Winter WIP 19

pang xiong/continued from p. 7the 1954 Geneva Conventionfrom interfering with Laosopenly, foreign governmentsaiming to help either the RoyalLao Army or the Pathet Laocarried out secret operations.The town of Padong, on amountaintop six milessouthwest of the Plain of Jars,became the headquarters forthe clandestine recruitment andtraining of Hmong soldiers forthe Royal Lao Army under thecommand of General Vang Pao.Organized and funded by theCIA, the Hmong were trained byAmerican military advisors andby Thai military and specialpolice personnel. Xia CaoXiong’s family and Hmong fromover 70 Xieng Khouang villagesfled south to Padong. PangXiong’s stepmother’s familyworked a farm nearby, and onceagain Pang Xiong set up shopalong the roadside, joining themany other young girls withimpromptu coffee stands andsoup pots who sold their waresto residents, refugees, militaryadvisers, and Hmong traineesquartered in the town.Pictures from that time showPang Xiong as a pretty, petite,and stylish teenager with brighteyes and a wide smile. “Prettycute,” she admits. She surelysparkled, bantering with theyoung men who hung aroundas she deftly cooked thechickens they brought to herand wowed them with “Hmongsalad,” a concoction of cayennepeppers, scallions, cilantro, salt,and limes. Her fluency in Thai,her wit, and her singing talentssoon brought her to the noticeof a handsome young Thaiparatrooper serving the RoyalLao Army as a medic. CharoonSirirathasuk worked closely withthe Hmong as a medicalpractitioner and weaponstrainer. He began to visit PangXiong's house with herbrothers, bringing gifts andsupplies for her business. Soon,he asked to marry her. Thematch, she was told, would begood for her, and for the Hmongpeople, too. Charoon's serviceto the Hmong military and theirfamilies earned him respect,and his marriage to a Hmongwoman deepened his ties to theHmong people and their cause.Pang Xiong and Charoon met inJanuary 1960. They weremarried in March. She was 15.Pang Xiong’s honeymoon inBangkok ends the second partof her movie. Part 3 opens inThailand in the mid-1960s. PangXiong is living in Sukhothai withCharoon’s family. She has givenbirth to three sons, finishedsixth grade, attended Thai GirlScout courses, and studiedtailoring. The war has escalatedin Laos, and now Hmong troopsare fighting battles as well asmonitoring the Ho Chi MinhTrail, the route through easternLaos used by the NorthVietnamese Army to supply itsmission in the South.Charoon was stillheadquartered in Laos, andPang Xiong joined him formonths at a time, assisting himin the vaccination programs thatwere part of his military duties.They maintained homes in bothcountries, and Pang’s youngerbrother lived with them.The war in Laos did not gowell for the Hmong people.Many, many Hmong soldiersdied, including five of Pang’sbrothers. The Hmong werelosing territory to the NorthVietnamese-backed Pathet Lao,and the Americans were losingthe political will to continue awar with little remainingdomestic or internationalsupport. Promises of anindependent country and ofcontinuing aid and support forthe Hmong people evaporated.In 1973, a cease-fire wasproclaimed, the Americanspulled out, and all Thai civiliansworking for the government hadto leave Laos. World opinioncorrectly predicted that theforces led by Hmong GeneralVang Pao would not be able towithstand the Pathet Lao forlong. In 1975, Vietnam,Cambodia, and Laos fell. TheHmong leadership was airliftedout of Laos, while the crowds ofHmong following them wereturned back with gunfire. Theemergent government of theLao People's DemocraticRepublic instituted a policy ofrepression toward theremaining Royalists, and theHmong had been their mosteffective enemies. Many Hmongfelt they had no choice but to flee.Safe in Thailand but sick withworry for her family, PangXiong could not get word oftheir fate. She listened avidly tothe daily Hmong broadcast fromChiang Mai, Thailand, and wasshocked when she heard herfather’s voice with a messagefor her. Like other strandedrefugees, he had sent a taperecordingto the radio stationfrom a temporary holdingcamp. Pang and Charoontraveled across Thailand to seethe family members who hadarrived from Laos and try tolearn the fate of those who hadstayed behind. The reunion inthe overcrowded, unsanitary,and restrictive environment ofthe temporary refugee campwas filled with both joy anduncertainty. Lao citizensresiding in Thailand, like PangXiong, had only one month todecide whether or not to jointheir families in refugee campsto await resettlement in theUnited States. Pang had lived inThailand for 15 years. She had ahome, a farm, a successfulrestaurant business, and atailoring job. But her family wasmoving far away to America;one brother had already gone“to Pillapilli, something,Puppiafia.” She laughs,remembering the strangenessof the sound of "Philadelphia."What should she do? She tellsme in detail, nearly 30 yearslater, what happened: “I go backto my brother, I say, ‘We have togo inside the camp. Because wedon’t want to stay hereanymore. I need my people. Ineed to see my people. Theyears I’ve come to Thailand, toolong already.’ I cry, I say, ‘I needto go. If you don’t want to, that’sOK. I go.’ He says, ‘Yes, I go.’”Now the parents of six youngsons, Charoon and Pang Xiongsold their property, theirlivestock, and their car andregistered at Ban Vinai RefugeeCamp. They were quicklyenlisted as staff. Charoontrained medical assistants in thehospital, and Pang Xiong taughtsewing and hygiene to adultwomen, drawing upon her paj[Continued on next page ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 21

pang xiong/continued from p. 21ntaub skills, her tailoringexperience, and her Thai Scouttraining. She felt that she was inher element when teaching. Shewas proud of the success of herstudents, and she insisted onhigh standards. Life in thecamps, though, was hard. Manypeople were still suffering,many had lost their families.They didn’t know what wouldhappen to them.In 1979, word came. Pang’sbrother Chao Xiong hadarranged for them to join him inPhiladelphia. They packed eightpillows and eight blankets. Twosets of clothes for each person.A box of dishes (do they havepots like these in America?). Abox of paj ntaub wallhangings—producing enlarged,simplified adaptations oftraditional designs to sell totourists had become a cottageindustry in the camps. Pang alsopacked her own paj ntaub—thepieces from her mother’s hand,her auntie’s hand, hergrandmother’s hand, her ownhand. But there was room forlittle else. They boarded theplane for America.Part 4 of Pang Xiong’s lifestory finds her in Philadelphia.She was accustomed tosucceeding throughcommunicating, and her lack ofEnglish left her feelingfrightened and frustrated. But achance encounter with a Thaistudent led to an invitation toperform traditional Lao andHmong dances at a Pan-Asianfestival. Within three weeks ofher arrival in America, PangXiong formed and trained adance troupe that performed atDrexel University, InternationalHouse in West Philadelphia, andpublic events sponsored byvarious church and civicorganizations.Philadelphia was aresettlement destination forthousands of refugees fromSoutheast Asia in the early1980s. Some arts organizations,churches, schools, andvolunteer agencies turned to thepresentation of traditional arts—music, dance, and needlework—to ease the transition forrefugees. Pang Xiong’sknowledge of Hmong culture,ability to organizeperformances, and out-goingcommunicative style made heran invaluable resource forethnic arts programs, and shewas frequently asked to performfor local schools and libraries.More opportunities developedas new relationships formed.The instructor in her intensiveEnglish program admired thepaj ntaub needlework that PangXiong embroidered duringbreaks. She arranged for PangXiong to sell paj ntaub atHeadhouse Square, a weekendcrafts market in the heart ofPhiladelphia’s tourist district.Pang discovered you couldn’tjust pack up and leave if youwanted to, as vendors did inThailand, and it took a while tounderstand how to price thepieces–—but she loved theatmosphere, and the incomesurprised her. (She has returnedto Headhouse Square everysummer since 1980, and hasnow been there longer than anyother craftsperson.) Pang Xiongwas not the only refugeeHmong woman to sell pajntaub. Craft fairs, museums andgalleries across the nation,wherever Hmong resettled afterthe war, displayed the flowercloth of Hmong women.Resettled Hmong helpedsupport relatives in refugeecamps by selling the paj ntaubsent to them from Thailand.They suggested adaptationsthat would appeal to Americanconsumers, adjusting sizes,supplementing the traditionalpalette of bright, contrastingcolors with pastels and earthshades. The bulk of refugeecamp production went tobrokers in Thailand, but tens ofthousands of pieces were sentto extensive networks of kin inresettlement communities in theUnited States, bolstering thestock of needlework made byresettled women. The laborintensivestory cloths, a pictorialform of embroidery thatnarrated scenes, stories, andexperiences of Hmong life, weremade almost exclusively in therefugee camps. Pang Xiongoften accompanied otherHmong women to crafts fairsand other sales opportunities.But in 1980 occasional culturalarts programs and paj ntaubsales did not pay the rent, andPang Xiong also pursued othermeans to make a living.Like hundreds of thousands ofimmigrants to the United States,Pang Xiong and her family tookadvantage of every opportunityto earn income. Within threemonths of their arrival inPhiladelphia, Pang Xiong,Charoon, and their two eldestsons found employment at apopular restaurant, (Friday,Saturday, Sunday), where theyintroduced touches of Hmongcooking. Pang pursued herlife-long desire to be a nurseand completed a nursingassistant program. This work,however, did not bring her thejoy and freedom that sheexperienced as an artist andas a vendor of traditional arts.Barely a year after her arrivalin the United States, Pang Xiongperformed and demonstratedpaj ntaub at the 1980Smithsonian Festival ofAmerican Folklife inWashington, D.C. She found theexperience both exciting andprofitable; her displays andperformances sent many to thesales tent to purchase paj ntaub.The two weeks in Washingtonconvinced Pang Xiong thatmaking, selling, and presentingHmong traditional arts not onlyproduced income, but furtheredunderstanding and appreciationbetween people. This wasexactly what she wanted to do,and what she felt she did best.Since 1980, Pang XiongSirirathasuk Sikoun hasmaintained a successfulbusiness selling needleworkcrafted by Hmong hands, takingpieces on consignment, buyingdirectly from other Hmongwomen, or ordering specificitems from paj ntaub makers.She continually explores newways to present paj ntaub,adapting embroidered bordersto jackets and dresses, sewinghandbags, Christmasornaments, and dolls. PangXiong has shared sellingopportunities with other Hmongwomen, although few cansustain the grueling hours,[Continued on p. 24 ➝]22 WIP Winter 2006-2007

is proud to be a PFP member andcongratulates PFP on its 20 thanniversary.Congratulations to PFP onits 20 th anniversary.

pang xiong/continued from p. 22discomfort, and uncertainty thataccompanies craft fairparticipation for very long. Inthe mid-1980s Pang joined otherHmong women contracting withvendors in Lancaster County,Pennsylvania, to make quilts ofcontemporary Amish andMennonite design. She nowinstructs over a dozen women inquilt-making and overseesproduction of hundreds of quiltsa year.By the late 1980s, Pang’spassion for teaching andlearning, not to mention herunerring ability to recognize andact upon opportunities, hadmade her an eloquentspokesperson for the values andaesthetics of Hmong culture.Journalists, scholars, and otherartists still seek her opinionsand ask her to share herknowledge. She has receivednational recognition andprestigious grants. Yetrecognition, even on a nationallevel, rarely brings dependableremuneration. Pang Xiongcontinued to fill gaps in thefamily income by pickingblueberries in New Jersey,cleaning churches, and otherforms of seasonal labor anddomestic service.As the years rolled by, Pangand Charoon’s sons graduatedfrom high school, thencollege, and began to marry.Grandchildren were born, andthe older generation began toleave life. Within a few shortyears, Pang Xiong said finalgood-byes to a brother, hermother and father, and herhusband, Charoon. The last timeI saw Pang Xiong before thisvisit in 2006 was the day sheburied her husband. She toldme then, “I don’t know what todo. I don’t know what willhappen to my life.”If Pang Xiong’s movie has amessage, I think it must be aninspirational one. Her innerwellspring of exuberant life anddynamic creativity cannot besuppressed. Since our last visit,Pang has made a second happymarriage. The whole familyjoined together to openSukhothai Restaurant, namedafter Charoon's hometown inThailand. Sukhothai enjoyed apopular run in Center City, onlyto succumb to the depressedbusiness climate that arose inthe aftermath of 9/11.Simultaneously, Pang Xiongcompleted training programs inmedical and legal interpretation,serving her community byproviding informed translationsin Hmong, Lao, Thai, andEnglish.And still she bent her creativepowers to the creation andpromotion of Hmongneedlework and its makers. A1996 Pew Fellowship in the Artsenabled her to spend a yearstudying the weavingtechniques of Green Hmongwomen, traveling to Hmongcommunities in China to learnfrom masters of the art. Sheshipped a full-sized loom backto Philadelphia.Pang Xiong retains thoseearly lessons about generosity,self-sacrifice, and devotion tothe family. She remains a quickstudy—swiftly grasping thetruth of a situation, swiftlyintuiting deeper meanings. Shegives Thai language lessons inher kitchen every Saturday, andfeeds her students lunch. Shecontinues to both preserve andinvigorate the principles ofHmong paj ntaub. Recently, shehas been experimenting withcombining the cotton printfabrics used to appliquéAmish-style quilts with thegeometrically complex designsof Hmong paj ntaub. Theflowered prints commonly usedto appliqué tulips and dovesonto a creamy muslin for theAmish tourist trade seem todeepen and swirl when overlaidwith a dizzyingly complexgeometric Hmong reverseappliqué layer. The resultingcreations pop with an energythat recalls the days when theintricacy and intelligence ofHmong paj ntaub design firstburst onto the Americanart scene.Pang Xiong’s movie will neverreally end. Scenes of war andlove, loss and renewal remainvivid for her. Evaluating her ownexperience, and those of herpeople, Pang Xiong says:“We came to this country verysad, and we try to winsomething.You cannot win the war. Youcannot win the gun. You cannotwin the life.You say, what do I win?I do not win my brother’s life,he died...they killed him. Theythrew him in the Mekong River.He died. We do not win theirlife, I cannot bring them back.I [can] not win my fivebrothers’ lives.But I win because mybrothers’ children are here.My mother, my father camehere, even though they died,but they win, because theyalready come here.We win when we can get ahouse.We win, we can get a new car.We win, we can get a newhome, we can be an Americancitizen.We try to be strong here. Wetry to be an example people.We win. My name is in books,articles, so I win that.People know my name,know Pang Xiong.You see, I win lots of things.I win a lot. My children gotbachelor's, master's degrees.That means I win.Many people win in thiscountry the same way with me.Same way.But they don’t know themeaning.But my meaning’s inmy head.”A retrospectiveexhibitionof paj ntaub andother needlework fromPang XiongSirirathasuk Sikoun’sworkshop will be ondisplay at theFolklore Project:March - June 2007Please call 215.726.1106or for detailsvisit our website(www.folkloreproject.org)24 WIP 2006-2007 Winter

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losang samten/continued from p. 9rings of images. The first one, inthe center, consists of a pig(ignorance), rooster (greed andattachment), and a snake(anger). These negative emotionsare considered the root ofsuffering. Together they lead toa cycle of rebirth. The Wheel ofLife depicts this cycle throughrings representing the realms ofgods, demi-gods, humanbeings, animals, hungry ghosts,and beings in hell.”When Losang is working,small bowls of richly coloredsand rest on a nearby surface.The color symbolism is complex,but, in general, it is relatedto the five elements, with whiterepresenting water, yellow forearth, red for fire, green for air,and blue for space. In order tocreate a detail, perhaps a cloudor a particular animal, he beginsby concentrating on the overallmeaning of the mandala and onthe specific image he is about tocraft. Back in the 1970s, whenLosang was studying at amonastery in a Tibetan exilecommunity in India, his teacherexplained that concentration,along with memorization oficonography, helps the artistproduce a precise expression ofthe intended design. Traditionally,sand mandalas were the focus ofmeditation, and precise imageryis critical when a mandala is to beused for such a purpose. It is stillimportant, says Losang, whenthe mandala has an aestheticor educational role.After sketching the outlinesof the design in white on a darkbase, Losang fills his chakpo(metal tool) with sand of onecolor and slowly guides the flowof grains through its tiny holeonto the surface of what willbecome an extremely complex,sometimes three-dimensional,composition. In Tibet or India,an artist can wipe superfluousgrains away with a yak-hairbrush. Here, Losang uses aspecially shaped piece of wood.Losang has created mandalasthroughout the United Statesand Canada, most often atmuseums, galleries, and universities.He also works at schools.In all these settings, he discussesthe local context with whomeverhas invited him, aiming todiscern which mandala mightbe most appropriate for thatplace at that time. Onlookers notonly witness the emergence ofspecific designs taking shapebefore them and learn somethingabout a Tibetan Buddhistworldview; their experience alsoincludes being in the presenceof a remarkable depth of concentration,focus, and patience.“First and foremost,” accordingto Losang, “these mandalasare a form of communicationthrough art. They tell storiesthat have meaning for Tibetansand other Buddhists, and forhumanity in general. The witnessingof patience in the creativeprocess helps observersfind patience and perseverancewithin themselves. They alsosee how each tiny piece mattersin the interconnectedness oflife,” as grains of sand and individualimages combine to createmeaning. “These are importantlessons for the next generation,whether Tibetan or not.Whenever I dismantle a mandala,I ask some young peopleto help as a way of physicallyand spiritually passing on thistradition.”Losang’s own journey as apractitioner of this traditionbegan with an intensive threeand a half year training programat Namgyal Monastery in Indiafrom 1975 to 1978. This is thesame Buddhist monastery atwhich he had been ordained asa monk in 1969, about a decadeafter escaping the brutal religiousrepression that beganwith China's invasion of Tibet inthe 1950s. Buddhism, eventhough it is not monolithic in itspractice in Tibet, has nonethelessbeen the defining essenceof Tibetan civilization. It is estimatedthat of the half-millionmonks and nuns in Tibet priorto the invasion, more than halfwere tortured, murdered, ordisrobed against their will bythe aggressors. Thousands ofmonasteries were destroyed.When the Dalai Lama left Tibet in1959, tens of thousands followed,including Losang’s family.The Dalai Lama based theTibetan government-in-exile inDharamsala, India. To this day,more than 100,000 Tibetans livein refugee settlements in Indiaand Nepal. Many have movedon to third countries, includingthe United States.Most of the 50 or 60 Tibetansin the Philadelphia area havebeen here less than ten years.They come together for culturalevents, often on Tibetan holidays,and participate in ceremoniesand other activities withthe larger Tibetan community inNew York whenever possible. Atthese gatherings, dance is acentral feature. Losang, in additionto his artistry with sand, isan accomplished ritual and folkdancer. As a monk, he studiedand performed sacred dances attemples. He also masteredTibetan folk dances and musicas a high school student at theTibetan Institute of PerformingArts. This was the first officialinstitution the Dalai Lama establishedafter his arrival inDharamsala, a testament to thevalue placed on expressive culturein Tibetan life.Losang received a Geshe(doctoral) degree in BuddhistSutra and Tantra Studies atNamgyal Tantric University inDharamasala in 1985. He hasbeen a teacher of meditationand Spiritual Director of theTibetan Buddhist Center ofPhiladelphia since 1989, stilltraveling often to conduct meditationretreats around the country.In 1994 Trinity College inHartford, Connecticut, awardedhim an Honorary Doctorate ofDivinity, and a year later theMaine College of Art in Portlandgave him an HonoraryDoctorate of Art. Hollywoodcalled in 1997: Losang served asreligious technical advisor and[Continued on next page ➝]26 WIP 2006-2007 Winter

losang samten/continued from p. 26sand mandala supervisor forMartin Scorsese’s film Kundun.He has been recognized witha 2002 National Endowment forthe Arts National HeritageFellowship in honor of hisaccomplishments as a sandmandala artist, as well as a PewFellowship in the Arts in 2004.Losang makes annual trips toIndia, where he continues tolearn from the Dalai Lama andother spiritual leaders andartists, studies mandala imageryin caves and old temples, andmeditates. Because of travelrestrictions and his relatives’lack of access to phones andcomputers, he cannot communicatewith family members whoremain in their small village inTibet. He worries about themand about the future of Tibetand its rich culture. He attemptsto better the world through hisart and by leading others onmeditation retreats, although heleft the monkhood in 1994.Mandalas and spirituality areinextricably intertwined. As heexplains, “The Buddha himselfhas been seen as a great artist,as one who has reached intodeeper understandings of reality.I retreat and meditate toreach towards better understanding,too, and portray mypoint of view in my art.”This last quotation is from aninterview by the author with LosangSamten published in PFA, thenewsletter of the Pew Fellowshipsin the Arts (fall/winter 2004), p. 6.Losang will beartist- in-residenceat theFolk ArtsCultural TreasuresCharter Schoolthis winter.wobbly songs/continued from p. 11change by members in personaltaste, or in reaction to externalissues. At times, behind-thescenesdebate on difficultpieces has revealed switches inposition on large conceptualmatters: job action, sabotage,lifestyle, gender, relations withother left-sectarian groups.Although the IWW discouragedpersonality cults within itsranks, songwriter Joe Hillachieved legendary status initiallyamong industrial unionistsand subsequently in a largergroup of CIO members, urbanliberals, and unaffiliated radicals.Hill’s life as a Swedishemigrant to the United States,his capacity to pen two dozennew Wobbly songs within afive-year span, his trial for murderand death by firing squad inSalt Lake City (1915), and unresolvedquestions of guilt orinnocence combined to elevatehim into the workers’ pantheon.The extensive literature onJoe Hill (by writers such asRalph Chaplin, Joyce Kornbluh,Franklin Rosemont, GibbsSmith, Barrie Stavis, andWallace Stegner) leads readersbeyond biography to searchingquestions on the nature ofWobbly lore and its “fit” as achip in the mosaic of labor’sheritage. IWW poets/composersstrove to nurture revolutionaryconsciousness. Each piece—whether topical, hortatory, elegiac,sardonic, or comic—served to educate, agitate, andemancipate workers. Songswere intended as arrows topenetrate bourgeois (in Wobblyparlance, “scissorbill”) mentality,and to anticipate a newsocial order—the commonwealthof toil.In everyday practice asWobblies sang at jungle campfires,in meeting halls, and duringfree speech rallies, much oftheir repertoire melted away.Some lyrics proved too taxingto sing; in short, they wereunsingable. Others had been setto tunes that lost out in stylewars. Still others became irrelevantas the IWW declined.However, a handful enteredtradition—a few as folksongs,some as labor-union classics.Not all IWW members haveenjoyed sharing material acrossinstitutional lines, nor uponhearing treasures performed byrivals: pragmatic craft unionists,reformist allies, left partisans.Wobblies known for militancyon the job and life-defying braveryon the strike front werepowerless to control the trajectoryof their songs, or to determinelife or death for givenpieces. As their materialreached large society, Wobbliesresponded ambivalently—happy that the Union had gonebeyond its ranks; dismayed thatstrangers might distort theIWW’s inherent message.Three books in particularmeasure the spread of IWWsonglore outside the organization’sbounds. In 1909, PaulBrissenden, a California studentin Economics, became interestedin labor. In 1919, theColumbia University Press publishedhis The IWW: A Study inAmerican Syndicalism whichincluded thirteen songs. In1923, the University of ChicagoPress issued Nels Anderson’sThe Hobo, an influential studyof homeless men. It held fourIWW songs.Carl Sandburg’s TheAmerican Songbag (1927)appealed well beyond campuswalls with three Wobbly numbers.Sandburg conferred folksongrank for “The Preacherand the Slave.” Under variedtitles (“Long Haired Preachers,”“Pie in the Sky”) Joe Hill’s parodyof the hymn “Sweet Bye andBye” moved out of labor’ssphere to comment upon moralvalues in the American polity.Ironically, a song introduced[Continued on next page ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 27

wobbly songs/continued from p. 27outside the IWW orbit yetmemorializing Hill achievedmore fame than most pieces inthe Wobbly canon. “Joe Hill”opens with “I dreamed I sawJoe Hill last night alive as youand me.” It has been sung byJoan Baez, Billy Bragg, JoeGlazer, Paul Robeson, PeteSeeger and many others. AlfredHayes (lyrics) and EarlRobinson (music) offered it initiallyin 1936 at Camp Unitynear New York City. Their gift—forged on a Communist PartyPopular Front anvil— hassometimes been erroneouslyattributed to Hill himself bycommentators who allege thathe composed it as a salute tofellow workers and a projectionof his immortality.A few words on the troublesomematter of definition mayhelp new readers in their evaluationof Wobbly songs. Most ofthe items gathered in The BigRed Songbook are no longersung, but remain of interest tohistorians, sociologists, and afew labor-union partisans.Although the very first bookletheld a traditional parody cherishedby itinerant workers,“Hallelujah, I’m a Bum” (irreverentlytitled “Hellelujah”), theIWW paid no special attentionto folklore theory, or the supposedvalues inherent in folksong.In the mid-1930s, someAmerican communists touchedby Popular Front ideologyembraced folksong. This commitmentcarried through untilthe 1970s “folk boom,” but itdid not hold much appeal toWobblies. However, the thirtyfourthedition songbook (1973),overturned precedent by includingWoody Guthrie’s “UnionMaid.” The thirty-fifth edition(1984), extended the processwith Les Rice’s “Banks ofMarble.” These two pieces represent“People’s Songs” intrusionsin time-tested IWW repertoires.The subject of “intrusion”has, and continues to be, controversial.During the 1920s and‘30s, IWW activists opposedCommunist Party policies.However, by the 1970s, with thepassing of many old-timers,young Wobblies were lessinvested in maintaining sectionaldifferences. In this context,“Union Maid” became acceptableto the IWW.Beyond the merits of enlarginga songbook with “outside”material, labor partisans face adifficult question: pop culture’sinfluence on Wobbly expression(characterized by FranklinRosemont in his study Joe Hill,2003, as “revolutionary working-classcounterculture”). I ask:Should Wobblies have resistedPopular Front formulas and“folksong revival” fare? Whatare this dilemma’s implicationsfor labor unionists in their culturaldecisions? How do wenavigate between contestationaland conciliatory strategies?Present-day IWW activistsdivide in assessing their musicalheritage. Some assert:“Economic forces outweigh culturalexpression; we need onlyto alter conditions at the pointof production; class strugglerelegates songlore to a derivativerole.” Others suggest thatIWW songs captured theunion’s spirit better than itsmanifestoes, pamphlets, andproceedings. “We should notapologize for our songs; ratherlet’s use them as ambassadorsto working people whereverthey toil.”Today, Wobbly songs seemsuspended between culturaldomains. Most are obscure; afew live in tradition. Not onehas achieved national popularityassociated with Broadway,Nashville, or Hollywood.Nevertheless, labor activiststreasure the corpus for internalcheer, oppositional message,and humane promise.Essentially, each Wobbly songthat carries into the twenty-firstcentury will affirm the linkageof poetry to cause, as well asmusic’s use in defining individualand social identity.My sketch above offers somegeneralizations about Wobblysongs. Here, I turn to a few ofthe issues faced by the informalcommittee of friends responsiblefor The Big Red Songbook.To identify myself: I haveworked first as a shipwrightand later as a teacher. Althoughsharing many Wobbly values, Iam not an IWW member. Instudies over the years, I haveprobed for the IWW’s place increating and extending laborlore.My views reflect tradeunionexperience and academicfolklore training.Included in The Big RedSongbook is the essay “JohnNeuhaus: Wobbly Folklorist” asI penned it nearly half-centuryago. Today, it can be read as amemorial to a friend and fellowworker. Also, it is a road markeron a still incomplete journey.Do we feel obligated to continueJohn’s exact path, or are wefree to set off in new directions?John Neuhaus was passionatein his belief that Wobbliesand friends should continue tosing all the numbers in theIWW songbooks (issued beforehis death in 1958). With thecentennial behind us, I do notshare John’s vision, for Ibelieve that most of the inclusionsretain value as cultural orhistorical artifacts, but not assongs in the repertoires of livingsingers.In the chronological andalphabetical check lists in theBig Red Songbook, we note allsongs to date. However, in ourmain text, we reprint only thoseitems through the thirty-fourthedition. This decision is arbitrary;it will not satisfy allenthusiasts; it raises the puzzlingquestion: What is aWobbly song? Is it any pieceprinted in an IWW songbook, orjust those that reflect IWW philosophy?Who decides the contoursof Wobbly belief?Almost all Wobbly songs[Continued on naxt page ➝]28 WIP Winter 2006-2007

wobbly songs/continued from p. 28have been recorded by interpretersrather than by traditionalsingers. This dichotomy hasraged in “folksong revival” circles.I shall not repeat the tiredarguments here. However, I dostress that very few Wobbliesmade field recordings in traditionalstyle. Does anyone whodesires to understand IWW lorenot wonder how the songswere performed when firstintroduced to copper-camp miners,factory-line workers, ortheir many peers?Wobblies faced harrowingregional, linguistic, and socialbarriers among men andwomen awaiting organization.To cite an instance: when a newlittle red songbook appeared inan East Texas piney-woodscamp or a Louisiana cypressmilltown, did the workersinvolved sound alike? It defiesreason to suggest that individualsof varied descent (Anglo,African, Mexican) in the IWWaffiliatedBrotherhood of TimberWorkers approached material ina singular voice. By imaginingthese diverse woods singers intheir particular styles, we arriveat a pluralistic view of IWW loremore challenging than the“folksong-revival” flavoreditems in the present discography.For many musical genres,loyal fans have produced LP orCD compilations based onethnographic and historicalresearch. Such an album ofWobbly songs is long overdue.It might recreate the sounds ofa century-old Sousa brass bandas well as an early ragtimeensemble. What did RichardBrazier experience when hetook in a Spokane vaudevilleshow? Has any Wobbly commentedon his exposure to abarrelhouse piano or a paralleloff-color ditty? Fred Thompsonhas described hearing oldChartist hymns in his nativeNova Scotia. Where did otherunionists become familiar withcamp-meeting hymns andgospel favorites? The challengeis great; the task lies beforepresent enthusiasts.I see no contradictionbetween the act of preparing aretrospective IWW album andcontinued effort to composeand circulate new material.Bibliographic and discographictools will provide useful in thistask of reconstruction. Readerswill observe that The Big RedSongbook’s two checklists holdonly English-language material.Hence, future fans can expandthese lists to include IWW songbooksin various tongues.Wobblies printed Swedishsongbooks both in the UnitedStates and Sweden. However,our present knowledge of otherforeign-language editions isincomplete. Similarly, ourdiscography cries for expansion.These gaps in documentationare especially ironic in thatWobblies were far ahead ofrival trade unionists in organizingimmigrants regardless ofrace or speech.In closing this overview, I amalso aware of the end of a personaljourney. Like other childrenof immigrants, I attendeda Workman’s Circle school inthe mid-1920s. There welearned labor songs, includingIWW classics. Too young to discernthe school’s politics, I associatedthese songs with thecampaign to save Sacco andVanzetti from the electric chair.In retrospect, it was a noblecause and a memorable introductionto Wobbly music.Massachusetts executed thetwo Italian anarchists on August23, 1927. I have sung, studiedand puzzled over IWW materialin all the following decades.Much of what is stated in thispreface repeats earlier formulations.Some of my views arecommonplace; others, controversial.I have already alludedabove to the thorny matter ofdefinition for Wobbly songs;this problem remains unresolved.I am convinced thatsome of The Big RedSongbook’s pieces proved difficult,if not impossible, to sing atthe time of their composition.Others caught on with singers;they circulated widely and werealtered in the process.Scholars fall back on twobasic beliefs: a song may entertradition; folksongs show variationover time and place. Beforethe popular interest in folksongin the 1970s, IWW memberspaid little attention to academicissues in defining their music.Some of these problems instatus and meaning are illustratedby “The Dehorn,” anirreverent parody set to thetune of “The Red Flag.” Itopens:The dehorn’s nose isdeepest red,The one bright spot inhis empty head,To get his booze he begsand steals,Half naked he goes withouthis meals.This piece never made it intoa little red songbook; did theeditors consider it sacrilegious?Upon first hearing Joe Murpheysing a bit of “The Dehorn”(Occidental, CA; 1958), I wasintrigued as he related it to anIWW technique in social control.Joe had served on dehornsquads in the Northwest lumberregion. These informal committees,in the vernacular,“dehorned the dehorns.” Tointerpret— during a strike, afew tough Wobblies wouldclose or dismantle the saloonsand brothels in order to keepworkers focused on vital issues.Thus, Joe recalled this song asmuch more than a humorousditty, for it represented a disciplinedresponse by the IWW toforces that destroyed workers’seriousness.With a fragment in mind, Iqueried John Neuhaus about“The Dehorn.” He had learnedit from Louis Gracey, a “shovelstiff,” treasured it, and taught itto me. Subsequently, I includedthe text in my Journal ofAmerican Folklore memorial to[Continued on naxt page ➝]2006-2007 Winter WIP 29

wobbly songs/continued from p. 29John Neuhaus (reprinted inThe Big Red Songbook). Songsdo not parade straight aheadin unbroken ranks. Rather, theyslither about, crawl underhedges, or lie dormant fordecades. “The Dehorn” cameto life at a time when Wobbliesconcerned themselves withalcohol as one of the manybourgeois tools designed toweaken a worker’s resolve.The song circulated, lodgedin a few memories, andseemingly died.In a sense, “The Dehorn”was reborn after it appearedin the Neuhaus memorial.Joyce Kornbluh doing researchfor Rebel Voices (1964) foundthat it had been contributed tothe Industrial Worker (October11, 1919) by J.B. Perhaps a yearlater (date unknown), it alsoappeared in the CaliforniaDefense Bulletin as “TheWino’s Nose” by Ed Anderson.Although I lack informationon both J.B. and Ed Anderson,the date 1919 is useful in establishingthis song’s chronology.The term “dehorn” had beenused by cowboys and forestrustlers to describe the act ofdehorning young cattle, as wellas the cutting off of a brandedlog’s end. The first activity toolaway a steer’s weapons; thesecond, assisted in theft. Animaginative Wobbly extendedthe word “dehorn” to boozewhich rendered a workerimpotent, or robbed himof his spirit.In the Wobbly lexicon,“dehorn” in various formsbecame verb and noun, denotingboth action and a state of being.It could mean the drink itself,the besotted drunkard, or theeffect after drinking. WhenProhibition ruled, many personsused denatured or adulteratedalcohol. Thus, a canned-heatbum became a hopeless dehorn.James Steven’ Northwest woodsnovel Jim Turner (1948) holdsseveral choice usages for thiscolloquialism.“The Dehorn” deserved fullexploration as it challenges studentsof language and literature,history and philosophy.For instance: how did thedehorn morph into a wino (asin Ed Anderson’s variant)? Thelate Fred Thompson, whoserved time in San Quentin as aclass-war prisoner, told me thathis IWW mates relished the parody,“The Wino’s Nose.” I conjecturethat Wobblies carriedthe song South fromWashington/Oregon lumbercamps to California fields.Itinerants who followed thecrops (fruit tramps) after agrape harvest would hangaround to buy gallon cans ofcheap wine. Today, “wino” iswidely used while “dehorn”is esoteric.However we relate “TheDehorn’s” adventures, thisexcursion into a song’s storytells us something of Wobblycreativity. It also points to anunusual portion of our volume.Franklin Rosemont has presenteda set of “lost” Wobbly songsand poems— not actually lostbut rather not included by formereditors in the various littlered songbooks. He calls attentionto years of unstated (oftenanonymous) editorial decisionsabout standards of inclusionand exclusion for selections.IWW stalwarts, not given toauthority, were genuinelyamused that their songbooksgained such magisterial powerregarding text and tune.Ultimately each Big RedSongbook reader will judge thewisdom of our selections andopinions. Songs lost or found,sacred or irreverent, touted orneglected, serious or zany,singable or not, are here.Industrial Workers of theWorld and their friends havebeen singing for a century. Maythis comprehensive gatheringsimultaneously celebrate pastbattles and chart future goals.Born in 1917, Archie Green is aunion shipwright and carpenter, apioneering folklorist, and an indefatigableteacher, both in and out ofthe classroom. He received hisPh.D. in folklore from theUniversity of Pennsylvania—choosing to study at Penn becausethe head of the Folklore program,MacEdward Leach, supported hisinterests in labor history and hillbillymusic, unconventional subjectsfor folklore at the time. Archie’smany contributions includegroundbreaking work on occupationalfolklore and culture, vernacularmusic, and in framing up theground for public sector folklife.This essay is excerpted from hispreface to The Big Red Songbook,available this winter from TheCharles H. Kerr publishingcompany. (Details are in theadvertising section).30 WIP Winter 2006-2007

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