Lee News Service

By JODI RAVE By JODI RAVE

PABLO,Mont. - If it exists, or can be imagined, it can be beaded. So says Salish beader Karen Kapi.

A man once challenged her: I know something you can't bead. A naked lady.

A few days later, Kapi presented him with a beaded belt buckle. It had a beautiful, discreetly naked lady with flowing black hair modestly covering her voluptuous body. The man wore the buckle faithfully - until someone stole it. He pleaded for Kapi to bead the woman again.

No, she said. Some things are meant to be originals, meaning no duplicates, ever. Sometimes, it just depends.

Still, Kapi remains up to the challenge of all beading requests. And the demand for her labor-intensive skill and valued time never wanes. One morning recently, Kapi sat with family members and beaded in The People's Center, the Salish and Kootenai tribes' cultural museum on the Flathead Reservation. On this day, five generations of her family were present, ranging from Kapi's 85-year-old mother, Margaret Coffee, to two great-grandchildren, 7-month-old Anjaleah Sheridan and 3-year-old Iggy Pierre.

Kapi works full time at the The People's Center, where she and women in her family demonstrate beadwork to tourists. The women also gather at the center and teach tribal members who want to learn the art of beading.

"They're passing on their talents and teaching others," said Marie Torosian, the center's education director. "They've taught me some tricks with my beadwork."

Beading for everyone

Karen Kapi's family has made beading a tradition. Even though Indians might be associated with beadwork, not every Indian can bead. And skill levels vary. It might take some people years to finish beadwork on a dance outfit, whereas Kapi and her family have worked marathon shifts to finish fully beaded outfits in days.

Together, the women have beaded for governors, tribal and national beauty pageant contestants, foreign dignitaries, the U.S. Mint, family members and hundreds of others seeking finely crafted beadwork.

The women bead everything from single clothing items costing thousands of dollars to keychains and earrings that sell for less than $20. But there is perhaps one item that best defines the women: handbags.

On this day, Kapi's mother has a handbag with her that was beaded by Kapi's great-grandmother, Maggie Adams, who was from the Spokane tribe. The beadwork is exquisite. Adams beaded the U.S. flag in the center of the bag, and intricate use of color combinations makes the flag appear three-dimensional, as if it's rippling in the wind.

"I've had a lot of people touch it to see if it had real folds in it," said the elder.

Kapi, who is 65, beaded her first handbag while a student at what is now called Haskell Indian Nations University. She has since acquired 178 beaded handbags, including more than 40 she beaded herself. One bag in her collection took more than 100 years to complete, with five generations of women in her family contributing beadwork to the piece.

Each handbag has a story, including tales of squirrels, frybread, friends, red birds, turtles, stick games, stampedes and religion.

The women create modern designs but also respect the older, traditional styles, too.

Granddaughter learning

Maggie Maestas, Kapi's 20-year-old granddaughter, has recently completed some of her first big beading projects, including a traditionally styled beaded vest for her son and a more contemporary, bold-colored butterfly handbag for herself.

When asked about the beadwork done by her grandmother and aunt Naomi Kuka, the young woman sits up straight and glances across the table where the other two are moving beading needles through canvas and buckskin.

"I'm better," she says without hesitation.

All the women laugh.

"But we're faster," the older ones reply.

Overall, the women have a great reverence for one another's work. But Kuka feels not everyone understands just how much time, skill and effort goes into stitching beads and creating breathtaking designs.

"If we're beading for a family member or someone in particular, we put feelings into that beadwork, like, we want that person to dance well when they wear this," she said.

"But when you see tourists come in and browse - they see a price tag on it and they think it's a little overpriced," said Kuka. "It's like, ooohhh. You wouldn't say that if you knew how much work goes into this."

Unlike many foreign import beaded handbags, Kapi and her family's pieces are made to last. Kuka has been carrying a fully beaded handbag sewn by her mother several decades ago. She uses it regularly, as did her mother. "I know, 100 years from now, my mother's beadwork will still be holding up."

'Old school' design

As the women sit and bead in The People's Center, a relative, Pat Matt, stops by. He admires the beading projects they're working on. Kuka is sewing hummingbird leggings to match the pattern on her traditional dress. Kapi is laboring over a pair of moccasins that were started by someone else and never finished.

Matt lets the women know he needs new beadwork for a traditional dance outfit. "I want cuffs, a cape and side drops, and a choker, but the 'new school' design," he said. And he wants a floral pattern, but that should be an "old school" design.

He assures the women he can get the buckskin and beads. And then he drops the bombshell. "I need someone to do my outfit by spring, by Kyi-Yo Powwow."

Moans instantly rise from around the beading table. The annual powwow hosted at the University of Montana is coming up in April. "Everyone needs their outfit by Kyi-Yo," said Kuka.

But, he's a relative.

Coveted color

On a recent visit to her mother's house, Kuka sat on the floor and carefully unpacked a box containing some of her mother's handbag collection. She admired several older bags, the ones with beads the color of a pink seashell.

"This color, this old Cheyenne pink, it's a color that hasn't been out for years and years. You can't get it anymore unless you rob it off an old piece. I only have a couple of hanks, which I got from my mom. I raided her supply. I won't use that color for anybody but myself. It's a very coveted color, old color."

Kapi and her family are following a long tradition of Indians across the country who have used beads to decorate everyday items. European fur traders introduced glass seed beads to the Northern Plains tribes. Soon, beads and cotton thread replaced the porcupine quills and sinew that traditionally had been used on items such as dresses, shirts and moccasins.

Kuka relishes her mother's collection of traditional and modern beadwork. And she loves to go to her home and look at the old and new beads.

"It's like being a kid in a candy store," Kuka said. "What can I touch? What can I see? What can I feel? What can I get into?"

Bead selection is a never-ending process. Kapi recently received a $6,000 shipment of beads. The newer selections allow beadworkers to get fancy. "Real flashy beadwork is out there on the powwow circuit now," Kuka said. "There's nothing wrong with that. You look at my dance outfit and it's flashy.

"If the old people could see the beads we had today, they'd probably be just as contemporary as we are, because they could do so many things," Kapi said.

Contemporary beadwork designs are everywhere.

"You can go to a powwow and you might see a Nike sign beaded," Karen said.

"Which irritates me," added Kuka.

"You might see Mickey Mouse, or some other such ridiculous thing," Kapi said. "But maybe it means something to them. And that's why they beaded it. I have never beaded a Nike sign. And I don't think I ever will."

"Although you did bead me Mickey Mouse," Kuka said.

Kapi paused, a little bemused with herself. "I did bead her a Mickey Mouse."

(Reporter Jodi Rave can be reached at 800-366-7186 or at jodi.rave@;lee.net. )