The Hamatsa Spirit Totem Pole

About the Artists: Joe David and Frank Charlie

Joe David (b. 1946) is described by The Canadian Encyclopedia as “a leading figure in modern Northwest Coast Indigenous Art.” He is from the Tla-o-qui-aht band of the Nuu-cha-nulth and has been formally adopted into the Haida tribe. His name in Nuu-cha-nulth is Ka-ka-win-chealth, meaning “white wolf transforming into killer whale." The largest collection of works by Joe David is currently held at the Burke Museum in Seattle. The Burke has over sixty pieces from David, including drawings, silkscreen prints, carved masks, lithographs, and a carved wooden staff. The Royal Museum of British Columbia also has a significant Joe David collection that includes silkscreen prints, masks, bowls, and a drum. Joe David’s work is included in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Smithsonian Institute’s American Indian Museum, the Royal Museum of Scotland, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, and many others. 

Frank Charlie (b. 1952) is Joe David’s nephew and was his apprentice during Expo ‘74. He was given his Tla-o-qui-aht name, Kwya Tseeck Tchuss Miyuh, by Joe David’s father at the Expo ‘74 totem pole raising ceremonies. While not as well-known as Joe David, Charlie has added his own striking contributions to the artistic legacy of the family and to the world of contemporary indigenous art. His work has been shown at multiple galleries in the U.S. and Canada and is also represented in the collection of the Royal British Columbia Museum.

About the Pole

This totem pole combines a fascinating mixture of traditional elements and innovative flourishes. It was created using traditional materials and traditional methods, but it should not be mistaken for a replica of a traditional totem pole. There has never been a totem quite like this before or since, even in Joe David's body of work. It uses the classic vocabulary of coastal formline art to compose something entirely new. Indigenous art forms evolve and respond to different eras and movements just like any other art, and the Hamatsa Spirit Totem Pole arguably owes as much to 1970s minimalism as it does to 19th-century totem carvings. 

Estimated to be more than 25 feet tall, the entire pole comprises only two figures. Most of the vertical space is occupied by a full-length carving of the seawolf, its tail on the ground and its head to the sky. The seawolf's back lifts out of the cedar pole in a curve of sleek muscle, while its massive jaws clamp shut on the humanoid figure at the top of the pole.

The figure appears human-sized from the ground, but is in fact much larger. The traditional headwear, necklace, open mouth, and long unbound hair all confirm that this is the Hamatsa Spirit, also known as Baxbaxwalanuksiwe or the Man-Eater at the North End of the World. This spirit is a powerful entity with a hunger for human flesh. While it is hard to spot this detail since the paint has worn off, the spirit's eyes are rolled up to the sky - a sign of the wild abandon that possesses the spirit and those who channel him. 

There are certain families who have a special connection to the Hamatsa Spirit, a closed tradition that has been passed down for many generations. In their initiation ritual, the initiate summons the Hamatsa Spirit into his body, then conquers and contains the spirit. The Hamatsa initiation ceremony is not specifically associated with totem pole raisings, and it typically takes place in winter. Joe David made the unusal choice to hold his Hamatsa ceremony in summer, at the height of Expo '74, with hundreds of fairgoers in attendance. He carved the totem pole as a permanent depiction of this hugely significant ceremony and moment in his life. 

With the nuance that is typical of coastal indigenous art, the balance of power in the carving shifts depending on the viewer's angle. When looking at the Hamatsa spirit's right side (or the seawolf's left), things look bad for the spirit. Most of his right leg is inside the seawolf's mouth, and the seawolf's back teeth are already clamped tight together. On this side, the spirit's right arm reaches desperately toward an empty sky.

On the other side, however, the spirit has almost completely escaped from the seawolf's mouth. His hand is loosely curled and drawn back at chest height, ready to strike. His leg on this side is bent at the knee as he shoves his left foot painfully deep into the seawolf's eye. The seawolf's toothy grin seems to be a grimace here. Can it manage to contain the struggling spirit, or will the man-eater break free? That tension is at the center of this totem pole, as well as at the center of the Hamatsa ritual that David performed when the pole was raised.

Hamatsa Ritual and Dedication Ceremony

The Hamatsa Spirit totem pole was dedicated on August 29, 1974, as part of Expo ‘74’s multi-day celebration of Canada. While some articles refer to it as a “totem pole raising ceremony,” the details provided in articles about the day suggest that the pole was already physically in place and was “unveiled” at the official event.

According to a contemporary article, "Hyacinth David, the artist’s father, explained the custom to a large audience in the Alberta Amphitheater, and another son translated the father’s words into English until, frustrated with the communication gap, Hyacinth finished the story in his own broken English. [...] David himself went into a trance, perhaps simulated, though very realistic, while calling on the spirits of the totem pole. Wearing a buckskin over his cut-off bluejeans, and with pine boughs wreathing his forehead and wrists, he shouted the spirit’s name until members of the tribe carried him off the stage to calm him."

After Expo

Unfortunately, the Hamatsa Spirit totem pole was quickly forgotten by Spokane. Without a sign or other interpretive material nearby, park visitors had no way to know about the significance of the totem pole as a work of art or as a legacy of Expo ’74. Instead, it seems to have faded into the background, easily confused with the décor and DIY totem poles that were common in 20th-century Spokane.

During the dedication in 1974, Mayor Rodgers said that the city consulted with experts on the “care and feeding of the totem pole.” This maintenance effort seems not to have materialized, and the totem pole is in poor condition today. It has split up the back and was cut apart recently to have a metal brace inserted. Much of the paint is gone, the wood is damaged, and the dorsal fin piece of the totem pole has been missing or in storage since 2004.

Today

There are many reasons for Spokane to celebrate the Hamatsa Spirit totem pole. It is an early-career piece by a renowned artist and is likely one of the most significant pieces of indigenous art owned by the city of Spokane. It is a formal gift from Canada to us for Expo '74, and it is one of several pieces of sculpture that connect Riverfront Park to its past.

However, the totem pole also comes with problems. It is a Nuu-Cha-Nulth totem pole far from Nuu-Cha-Nulth territory, sitting incongruously on an island belonging to the Sp'q'n'i people, who have no tradition of carving totem poles. It is a sacred object that was consecrated with traditional ceremonies, and there are specific ritual protocols required in order to move or remove it in a culturally respectful manner. Finally, it is a work of art that has been neglected to a disrespectful degree. 

The other surviving Expo ’74 sculptures in Riverfront Park are far better known, better maintained, and better documented than the Hamatsa Spirit Totem Pole: George Tsutakawa’s aluminum fountain, Glen Michaels’ Moon Crater, Harold Balazs’ Untitled (Lantern), Sister Paula Turnbull’s garbage goat and Australia sundial (completed 1976), and Nancy Genn’s Totem No. 2. These pieces are all included in the Parks Department’s Preservation plan, the Historic Preservation Office’s Monument, Marker, and Object Survey, and the Spokane Arts Sculpture Walk. The Hamatsa Spirit totem pole is included in none of those lists. As the only surviving Expo '74 sculpture made in an indigenous art style and the only one made by indigenous artists, its exclusion raises uncomfortable questions about how we have decided which works of art are worth labeling, maintaining, and celebrating.