Artist Profile: April Stone

April Stone is a self-taught Ash basket weaver and member of the Bad River Band of Lake Superior Chippewa (Ojibwe). In 1998, she spent a full year watching a basket get used daily; unaware of the intimate relationship that was being formed. After one year of this basket in use, the lashing around its rim—broke. The strength of this natural material moved her to the point of wanting to know all she could about the qualities and characteristics of the wood: what it could do and how to weave with it. She then spent the following year raising babies and weaving one basket after another…after another…after another. One year later, she was asked to share her working knowledge with the community. She told them she didn’t know anything; but they told her “you know something” and asked her to show them what she knew. So she did. Since then, she has been sharing her knowledge and teachings with tribes, folks schools, colleges, youth groups, school programs, skill share programs and more—traveling both nationally and internationally. April has received much recognition for her working knowledge of Black Ash basketry, in addition to being a patient and gentle educator.

In the beginning, it was all about the finished basket.  After a while, April realized that traditional teachings were showing themselves through every aspect of the work: through harvesting, processing, prepping, weaving and finishing.  A final layer—one of healing—also showed itself.  Now all of these aspects come together during her creative process of basket making. 

1) Have the events of 2020 impacted creative process?

The events of 2020 have most definitely impacted my work. ALL of my workshops that had been scheduled (most of them rolling over the later part of 2019) had been cancelled starting in March. And since then… Well, they are still cancelled. I was only able to follow through with a few workshops in other states earlier this summer because COVID-19 numbers were low in those locations and sessions were held outdoors. Ironically, these workshops also took place amongst Indigenous folks so no one seemed too worried about anything (*Please note that no participants got sick as a result of our time together).

Back in northern WI, however, the pandemic took hold during my semester class at Northland College so all of my students made a mass exodus from campus in the course of just two days—meaning I now had to teach basket making online in order to successfully finish out the semester and issue grades; but creativity began to show itself in other ways. For instance, I had to go virtual so I needed to make sure the students had a clear view of what my hands were doing. I began color coding strips of paper to show them the basic idea behind the weave. In this way, they were able to see exactly what the pattern looked like and where the elements were supposed to go. They were then able to transfer this pattern to their material, which was all pretty much the same color. I also made sure the strips sat on a dark background for contrast and that the lighting and video quality were enough for them to get a good visual. Creativity was definitely not stifled; it just showed itself in other ways.

Having to go virtual for my students also caused me to break out of my ‘techno illiterate’ bubble (somewhat) and made me reflect on how I’ve been teaching all these years. Because I ALWAYS relied heavily upon my words when teaching—in giving direction, showing tension, defining shape, etc—going virtual proved to be no biggie when it came to having the students understand me from a distance (even those from another state or country). Because I had taught myself to be exact and intentional with my words, it only helped carry through the teaching online. Therefore online classes did not really pose a difficulty in teaching how to weave a basket, but it did make me adjust my anticipated outcomes of the finished basket—AND it made me alter specifically what I taught. I really had to stick to a simple basket at first, plus work to tailor my focus in offering certain classes for different stages of weavers.

2) What advice would you give an artist struggling to make a living wage solely from their artistic endeavors?

I have been working with ash splint basketry for well over 20 years now. I never set out to rely solely on my weaving and selling and teaching for income. I felt more like I needed to gain some experience by doing it—and that could take years. I do not believe that a person should start making something and then claim it. Artists need some experience to go along with it. Makers need to live with the material; get to know the material; understand it; and let it speak to you. They need to hear what the material wants to do; what the material wants you to do with it; and gain that respect for it. Then…they should go for it, but only if it truly resonates with their being. I believe all folks have a creative side—some are simply tapped into it more than others.

Also an artist’s life can also be feast or famine. Sometimes you just don’t know if you are going to make ANY money in one month. Occasionally I make $3000 in a month; others, I make $500. When the kids were young, sometimes we didn’t have money for food or to pay the bills but we were following our hearts and knew that if we were trying to live in a good way—making beautiful, useful items—that everything would be alright in the end. After you’ve put in your time, and have learned what you need to learn (and this can take years), you will have work to show the world that you carry knowledge about whatever it is you do.

And eventually, grants might find their way into the equation, but you really should attempt to prove yourself first. Before I was able to start generating an income from my craft, I had to take a part-time job to make sure my family could at least have enough money for food, gas and to cover other basic expenses. I didn’t mind this because I worked at the local food cooperative in town and since we ate local, organic food, this was a benefit to our household plus resonated with my life as a whole. It may take a few years of trying to make a go of it solely on your wares so you might need to get a supplemental job for a little while during the low times. And that is okay because in the end, you realize that if relying on your sales from you work and side gigs is what you really want, then you will try to do everything in your power to line up work (workshops, teaching gigs, sales, etc) ahead of time—helping to ensure that you are solely able to carry yourself as an artist. This is an important lesson.

3) How do you personally continue to grow in your craft?

I have taught many, many workshops over time. These have morphed into different venues—from folks schools to tribal colleges to farms to mental health facilities to my own studio space. You get the picture. What started out as just teaching a workshop to provide an experience and a finished basket has turned into working with a main goal or focus in mind such as partnering with the local court-ordered, youth boys home or working with the elders from around the bay, or working with 1st graders etc. It has morphed into art therapy for healing purposes, which feels wonderful.

Another way I continue to grow my craft is by studying collections around the country, particularly east of the Mississippi. I learn a great deal about the mindset of earlier peoples by studying how they made their baskets. This also shed light on the “why;” and I am better able to understand their mindset from earlier times. These people are gone; the earlier basket makers are no longer here so I can’t ask them questions. Instead, I have to gain insight by looking at how they put something together. I draw much inspiration and understanding from this.

Additionally I gain insight is from dreams. I sometimes wake up in the morning having dreamt of a certain item (such as a birch bark cape lined with red velvet cloth). Or another dream I have had about a circle of women sitting around a rather large, round table inside a very open cave space—taking parts from old baskets and reworking those parts into a new basket piece in some way—while crying and healing and grieving. I wake from these dreams with ideas on what to make next or what to work on next or philosophies and ideas….and wondering how to incorporate them moving forward. Lastly, I draw inspiration from other makers and weavers.

4) Describe an artistic collaboration you've been currently involved with that has had a significant impact on a community.

I was set up in a corner storefront in downtown Ashland, WI in 2016, working on weaving a burial basket—essentially, a coffin. It started out as an artist’s statement connecting the Emerald Ash Borer to Black Ash basketry. Specifically how the borer, which is so small and comes from a different part of the world, affects this tree. A tree that was—not only elusive as a weaving material, but also my main medium for so many years—now dying because of a parasite that had already killed millions upon millions of Ash trees in its path. This month-long space accessible to the public provided an opportunity to raise awareness in the community through whomever stopped by to visit, watch, and even participate in the weaving process. The main message was about how we live today; the use of plastic as a vessel for carrying loads; the availability of resources; and how people can make a positive difference in the world if they started using baskets more and more. And what ended up starting out as a creative project associated with a grant through the Minnesota Historical Society, ended up being a healing for myself when it was all said and done.

For a different collaboration, I asked the owners of the local art gallery in town if I could be set up inside their space, in an open area, so I could work in the public eye. Of course, they said “yes.” It not only drew potential customers into their business, but also created a dialogue between the owners, customers, random visitors, the basket(s), the material (I was using), and myself. We advertised with flyers, plus on social media. I wasn’t there everyday during that month, but a good chunk of time throughout the span of a few weeks. Some folks brought in baskets that they had in their personal collections and asked questions about them. It was amazing! Others brought in their children to watch—and because I’m more of a hands on person—I let them take their tiny hands and give it a try. The experience went beyond anything I thought it would be. The owners got a chance to see me in action; to hear me talk; to hear what I had to say; to see my work first hand. In the end, we set up a series of small workshops the following month, within that same space, offering as many workshops as the community was willing to pay and sign up for (which were four). And we did it again the following year. We actually would have still continued it this year if it weren’t for the pandemic.