About

About the Lost Tribes Collection

Territory—the playing field for this collection exists within this visual language that I’ve created. At first it will feel like you’re being bombarded by an army of symbols that might not make any sense. What I did was build a library of Native words, symbols, and images, and combined each of them with a word or phrase from Pirkei Avot. I found something precious in the crudeness of the symbols. Many of them are hobo signs, some are Navajo, and many were created long before Chief Sequoyah developed a written native language in 1821. I also found something precious in the “free association” part of the process, joining words and symbols. As I kept adding more symbols to my library, and as the collection grew, it took the form of the Periodic Table of Elements. It just happened. This collection of symbols, for me, began to function as a kind of ethical navigation system. Associating the elements with one another felt like meditation. It felt like drawing up a Rorschach test or Blotto game, and these are my results. Instead of clouds or ink blots, I used Native symbols and Hebrew and married them to one another visually, and transposed some art into metal for each of us to define. The symbols represent natural things, shared things, and the Hebrew is a collection of quotes from Pirkei Avot (ethics of our predecessors)—sort of a list of “words to live by” type of thing. The symbols represent values, ethics, experiences, and universal elements, like “The Sun”, ”Justice” or  “Friendship”, some are less basic than others, but all together make up a coherent system. The system offers a deeper perspective to the assumption that laws are inherently ethical. It’s a means for reframing our perspective in the way the Tree of Life or the Kabbalah are designed to enhance vision, appreciation for our neighbors, and awareness of our relationship to all of creation.

From Gabriel’s Mother
Gabriel and his dad began brainstorming about “Lost Tribes” at least five years ago. I was interested, but I was not part of the initiating committee—not until Gabriel asked me about “Ethics of the Fathers” (“Pirkei Avot”), a compilation of venerable words of wisdom, culled from Jewish sages of old. I’d studied this text in grade school, where I was required to learn whole chapters of the text by heart. I loved it. I loved the poetry of the Hebrew, the wise insights of these revered rabbis, and the fact that my father, himself a rabbi (who rarely stopped talking), sat quietly and listened as I recited. It felt like a new chapter in my life. Instead of being the silent, dutiful daughter, I was the one talking—though the words I spoke were not my own. For Lost Tribes, I began poring over the Pirkei Avot text, collecting the sayings that most inspired me. They included:יהִי בֵיתְךָ פָּתוּחַ לִרְוָחָה, וְיִהְיוּ עֲנִיִּים בְּנֵי בֵיתך"Your house should be open wide, and you should make the poor members of your household." (1:5)אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי
ּוּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי
וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי"If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
And when I am for myself, what am 'I'? (I.E.: if I am only for myself what am I?)
And if not now, when?" (1:15) אֱמוֹר מְעַט וַעֲשֵׂה הַרְבֵּה"Say little and do much." (1:15) ֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּסֵבֶר פָּנִים יָפוֹת"Meet every person with graciousness." (1:15)לֹא הַמִּדְרָשׁ הוּא הָעִקָּר, אֶלָּא הַמַּעֲשֶׂה"The main thing is not study, but doing." (1:17) עַל שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הָעוֹלָם עוֹמֵד, עַל הַדִּין וְעַל הָאֱמֶת וְעַל הַשָּׁלוֹם"On three things does the world stand: On justice, truth, and peace." (1:18 אַל תִּפְרוֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּרDo not separate yourself from the community. (Or: strength in unity) אַל תָּדִין אֶת חֲבֵרָךְ עַד שֶׁתַּגִּיעַ לִמְקוֹמְו"Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in his place." (2:5) (Or: Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.)אַל תֹּאמַר לִכְשֶׁאֶפָּנֶה אֶשְׁנֶה, שֶׁמָּא לֹא תִפָּנֶה"Do not say 'I will study when I have the time', for perhaps you will never have time." (2:5) (Or: Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today.)(2:6) אֵין בּוֹר יְרֵא חֵטְא, וְלֹא עַם הָאָרֶץ חָסִיד, וְלֹא הַבַּיְשָׁן לָמֵד,"A boor cannot be sin-fearing, and an ignoramus cannot be pious.
A shy person cannot learn, and an impatient person cannot teach.” ובִמְקוֹם שֶׁאֵין אֲנָשִׁים, הִשְׁתַּדֵּל לִהְיוֹת אִישׁ"In a place where there are no worthy men, strive to be worthy." (2:6)מַרְבֶּה צְדָקָה, מַרְבֶּה שָׁלוֹם"The more charity, the more peace" (2:8)This whet my appetite. I explored other texts and added them. The three of us bonded anew over ancient texts and timeless wisdom.I am deeply grateful to Gabriel for opening my eyes. His curiosity, his artistic sensibility, and his perceptive way of integrating the wisdom of diverse cultures, allowed me to see these familiar sayings through new lenses. I hope that others prove as open to Gabe’s unique outlook as I was privileged to be. 

From Gabriel’s Father

My very personal perspective on Lost Tribes is both limited and heartfelt. Love is, inevitably, the source of many biases and distortions, not all of which are automatically forgivable, even given their noble source. Nevertheless, I hope these words manage to do justice to the spirit of Lost Tribes, and to the creative process that is so brilliantly reflected in it.When Gabe was in high school, he was, typically for that age, not very communicative, at least not verbally. Partly for that reason, the following memory has stood out, and it comes to mind with a particular clarity in connection with Lost Tribes and the creative process that produced it. The memory in question takes place at Interlochen Arts Academy, during Gabe’s senior year of high school. The context for this particular parental visit up to beautiful Interlochen from Ann Arbor included our hoping to have a “meeting of the minds” about his inconsistent work ethic and to sit down with Gabe and his teachers to figure out “where his 18 year old head was at.” The element of this otherwise not-very remarkable memory is the fact that it somehow triggered a momentary flash of unexpected reflectiveness and expressiveness on Gabe’s part which, at the time, was sufficient reason to mark the moment. More striking, however, was the content of Gabe’s unexpected “sharing,” namely his declaring that “we needed to understand that “his” purpose in life was “to combine metalsmithing, basketball and rap.” I remember in that moment trying very very hard to understand what that meant, and not having much success. I remember, in retrospect, not understanding the content of what he had shared with me, but more importantly, not yet appreciating the agentic significance behind what I initially mistook as simply isolated “elements” of his adolescent identity. Over the ensuing years of knowing my adult son, I have come to understand that the elements (the visual images, the music, the poetry, the physicality, the chemistry and geology of metal, etc.), are all deeply held and organized within him in ways that contain nuanced emotional, aesthetic, ethical, political and spiritual meaning. His access to the richness of these elements of personal meaning are what free and energize both his sense of purpose and his creative process. My appreciation of Lost Tribes at its most personal, reflects my desire to more fully know my son Gabe as a man and as an artist. I see Lost Tribes not only as a product of his creativity, but as an artistic representation of that process itself. As a process, it involves reaching deep inside to find and process images of the world, and of how life is lived in the world. The physical, social, ethical, spiritual meanings of these elements are represented as a table of elements. Lost Tribes manages to represent them artfully in a way that does justice to their deeper significance. In finding Lost Tribes both beautiful and meaningful, I experience writing this “forward” to be an opportunity to mirror and validate Gabe’s sense of purpose. As an added, more personal bonus, it allows me to experience a clearer appreciation and understanding of that “element” of my son that allows him to produce the kind of art he does.