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| In Coast Salish ceremonial dances, Herb Rice explains that the eagle mask (above) was used to
"shake eagle down" onto the floor to make a fresh path for dancers. |
Meaning behind the masks
Master carver Herb Rice explains what mask making means to him and his culture
By Kate Wallace
Tree of life. This is what the Coast Salish of the Pacific
Northwest call the towering red cedars that provide them with
the raw material for all manner of traditional tools and equipment,
including canoes, paddles, baskets, clothing…
And masks.
For Herb Rice, a contemporary master carver based
in Cowichan Bay, British Columbia who uses both traditional
and modern forms and designs in his pieces, the wood
his ancestors used is still the best medium for mask
making. Besides providing a reliable raw material, the
cedar also embodies the continuum between land and man,
past and present, and the physical and spiritual realms
that are at the heart of Rice’s culture.
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A mask that is not danced, not used to share
stories and teachings, is little more than a decorative husk. |
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Rice is a member of the Cowichan band, one of more than 50 Coast Salish bands
whose traditional territory encompassed the southeast coast of Vancouver Island
and the Gulf Islands. Rice did not grow up on a reserve and came to carving
later in life, as part of an exploration of his native roots. "I struggled
with knowing who I was," Rice says. Carving helped connect with his ancestry,
as a way to physically depict the stories he was learning.
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"Our people relay things
verbally. In order that the stories were not lost, people
were acknowledged as witnesses to these stories, which
were presented in a very dramatic and theatrical way."
—Herb Rice, master carver |
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For Rice, the creative process of carving a beautiful mask is its own reward.
Nothing pleases him quite so much as to go from a simple block of wood to a
beautifully carved, elaborate piece of art. And, as collectors from around the
world who own Rice’s masks could surely testify, the masks are valuable
based purely on aesthetics.
But, as Rice explains, a mask that is not danced, not used
to share stories and teachings, is little more than a decorative
husk. "Our people relay things verbally. In order that
the stories were not lost, people were acknowledged as witnesses
to these stories, which were presented in a very dramatic and
theatrical way."
Today, masks can be part of this drama. The storyteller who
wears the mask, "became the spirit of what the mask represented,
whether that’s an ancestor, a bear, raven, or eagle." Many
animals depicted by masks are themselves representative of particular
traits or myths. The raven, for instance, can be a teacher or
trickster, while the eagle mask is used to make a fresh path
for dancers.
Alongside this reverence for nature is a deep respect for those
who have gone before. Rice’s grandfather masks, for instance,
have his own creative flourishes, "but the philosophy behind
it is based on a great respect for our ancestors and elders," he
says. "Much of that is about passing along the knowledge
of the past, the ‘good medicine’ of their teachings."
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The szwayxwey mask carries with
it heavy ceremonial responsibilities. |
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Unlike other northwest groups like the Haida, who make a variety of masks, the
Coast Salish traditionally had only one ceremonial mask: the sxwayxwey, a highly
sacred, very private mask that is owned and passed down by select members of
the family, a tradition that continues today.
Besides the social status it endows, this mask carries with it heavy ceremonial
responsibilities, as it is used to cleanse the community in times of crisis
or sorrow. Alongside its power to offer redemption and healing, it is also
used at times of transition, such as when young people undergo their adult
naming ceremonies.
"It’s not just a mask," says Rice, "it’s a representation
of so much more."
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