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Raven’s Cry
When Bill Reid recently autographed a book for Christie Harris, he wrote, "To Christie, whose 'Raven's Cry' has become one of the strongest voices speaking for the people of Haida Gwai and their neighbours." Similarly; the director of the National Museum of Man, George F. MacDonald, has inscribed a copy of his book on Ninstints, "To Christie Harris, whose Raven's Cry led me to Kiusta and began a journey that eventually involved every Haida village and my book on Haida Monumental Art.";It also resulted in the dedication of four of those villages as National Historic Sites and one as a World Heritage Site -Ninstints." Born in 1907 and raised on a Fraser Valley farm, Harris had no such purposes in mind when she published her best known book in 1966. "The book has always been reviewed as a historical novel. But it never occurred to me that it was a novel. I was just telling the story of the people who produced Charles Edenshaw, telling the story of a line of great chiefs who were all artists." Today it is not uncommon to find hardback copies of Christie Harris' out of-print Raven's Cry displayed in glass cases in Queen Charlotte Islands hotels, wearing $50 price tags. Here is the story behind the story of Raven's Cry; in Christie Harris' own words.
By Christie Harris
THE GENESIS OF RAVEN'S CRY DATES BACK more than thirty years, back before even the flower children of the 60's had discovered the Misty Isles. At that time, with one book published, I wanted to concentrate on children's books. I was phasing out a twenty year career in scriptwriting and broadcasting for CBC radio programs. But when my husband's work took us to Prince Rupert, I agreed to do a series of school broadcast scripts on 'those great old Indian cultures'.
I found myself eager for almost total immersion in research, both in the field and in books. The West Coast mythology was marvellous and the art was unique. I discovered that clearly the artistic genius of the North West Coast had been Charles Edenshaw, Haida Eagle Chief Edinsa. Edenshaw's work was treasured in the world's great museums. Yet he had died in poverty and obscurity. I could not find out enough reliable information about him to devote a whole program to him. This bothered me. That's when I told myself I should write his biography. I left Prince Rupert and wrote three more books. By 1964, I was ready to do that biography. Bill Reid agreed to be my art consultant as long as I was willing to sit in his studio so that he could get on with his own work while he told me about his 'Great-uncle Charlie', his alter-ego, and about the classicism of Haida art. The Canada Council gave me a grant to cover his fee.
Everyone except Bill warned me that Edenshaw relatives would never tell their family stories to a white woman, a stranger. I was actually afraid to let them know I was coming. What if they said, "Don't bother!"? My husband and I arrived in Haida (Masset) and Charles Edenshaw's daughter Florence Davidson was pointed out to me on the street. I rather anxiously introduced myself. And she said, 'We've been expecting you. We were going to have a reception for you tonight at my house, but there's been a small fire. So we're gathering at my son's house."
I think it was the shock of the errors in the brief Charles Edenshaw entry in the National Museum booklet I showed them that swung the decision; even the National Museum photograph of Edenshaw was of somebody else. Florence said she would answer my questions. (A teenager at that gathering was her grandson, Robert Davidson, now another great Haida artist). So every morning our hotel packed a picnic basket for us; we picked up Robert and Florence Davidson; and while my husband walked and talked with her husband, Florence sat in spots that stirred old memories and told me wonderful tales of how it had been in the old days on Haida Gwai. A highranking and gentle Haida lady, Florence was a wonderfully artiailate informant. Many of the best tales concerned the two chiefs who had preceded Edenshaw, both of whom were also artists. Charles Edenshaw had been a driven artist, driven to record in wood and argillite, gold and silver, a great culture that was dying. How could I explain his drive without showing how the culture had been before his time?
I eventually decided Raven's Cry could not be a biography. It had to be a three-generation saga, a tragedy of culture contact. Then I had to be in Victoria to put all the. stories into historical context because Victoria was where I had easy access to the archives and the museum and to Wilson Duff, the Provincial Anthropologist who was a noted Haida scholar. We took a beach house on Cordova Bay for a year. There the writing of that book became almost mystical; again and again I was convinced that some old Haida spirit was helping me.
Watching the book grow, my New York editor kept saying, "Can't you persuade Bill Reid to illustrate it?" I kept asking him and he kept answering, "I'm not an illustrator." Bill Reid came to Victoria to go through the complete manuscript. He read it in silence, laid it down and said, 'That's not bad. I'll illustrate it." Then he went out to his car for the exquisite silver Killer Whale pin he presented to me. That I treasure, as I treasure the unique illustrations he did for Raven's Cry --illustrations that will no doubt continue to be an inspiration to many young carvers involved in the Renaissance of Haida Art. I'm very sad that the book is currently out-of-print."
[Summer/BCBW 1989]
By Christie Harris
THE GENESIS OF RAVEN'S CRY DATES BACK more than thirty years, back before even the flower children of the 60's had discovered the Misty Isles. At that time, with one book published, I wanted to concentrate on children's books. I was phasing out a twenty year career in scriptwriting and broadcasting for CBC radio programs. But when my husband's work took us to Prince Rupert, I agreed to do a series of school broadcast scripts on 'those great old Indian cultures'.
I found myself eager for almost total immersion in research, both in the field and in books. The West Coast mythology was marvellous and the art was unique. I discovered that clearly the artistic genius of the North West Coast had been Charles Edenshaw, Haida Eagle Chief Edinsa. Edenshaw's work was treasured in the world's great museums. Yet he had died in poverty and obscurity. I could not find out enough reliable information about him to devote a whole program to him. This bothered me. That's when I told myself I should write his biography. I left Prince Rupert and wrote three more books. By 1964, I was ready to do that biography. Bill Reid agreed to be my art consultant as long as I was willing to sit in his studio so that he could get on with his own work while he told me about his 'Great-uncle Charlie', his alter-ego, and about the classicism of Haida art. The Canada Council gave me a grant to cover his fee.
Everyone except Bill warned me that Edenshaw relatives would never tell their family stories to a white woman, a stranger. I was actually afraid to let them know I was coming. What if they said, "Don't bother!"? My husband and I arrived in Haida (Masset) and Charles Edenshaw's daughter Florence Davidson was pointed out to me on the street. I rather anxiously introduced myself. And she said, 'We've been expecting you. We were going to have a reception for you tonight at my house, but there's been a small fire. So we're gathering at my son's house."
I think it was the shock of the errors in the brief Charles Edenshaw entry in the National Museum booklet I showed them that swung the decision; even the National Museum photograph of Edenshaw was of somebody else. Florence said she would answer my questions. (A teenager at that gathering was her grandson, Robert Davidson, now another great Haida artist). So every morning our hotel packed a picnic basket for us; we picked up Robert and Florence Davidson; and while my husband walked and talked with her husband, Florence sat in spots that stirred old memories and told me wonderful tales of how it had been in the old days on Haida Gwai. A highranking and gentle Haida lady, Florence was a wonderfully artiailate informant. Many of the best tales concerned the two chiefs who had preceded Edenshaw, both of whom were also artists. Charles Edenshaw had been a driven artist, driven to record in wood and argillite, gold and silver, a great culture that was dying. How could I explain his drive without showing how the culture had been before his time?
I eventually decided Raven's Cry could not be a biography. It had to be a three-generation saga, a tragedy of culture contact. Then I had to be in Victoria to put all the. stories into historical context because Victoria was where I had easy access to the archives and the museum and to Wilson Duff, the Provincial Anthropologist who was a noted Haida scholar. We took a beach house on Cordova Bay for a year. There the writing of that book became almost mystical; again and again I was convinced that some old Haida spirit was helping me.
Watching the book grow, my New York editor kept saying, "Can't you persuade Bill Reid to illustrate it?" I kept asking him and he kept answering, "I'm not an illustrator." Bill Reid came to Victoria to go through the complete manuscript. He read it in silence, laid it down and said, 'That's not bad. I'll illustrate it." Then he went out to his car for the exquisite silver Killer Whale pin he presented to me. That I treasure, as I treasure the unique illustrations he did for Raven's Cry --illustrations that will no doubt continue to be an inspiration to many young carvers involved in the Renaissance of Haida Art. I'm very sad that the book is currently out-of-print."
[Summer/BCBW 1989]
Submitted on February 5, 2004 in By David.
