Everyone has a voice or two in their head. Cartoonist and artist L. Frank has many and they are the barbed, capricious voices of long-buried Native ancestors. A descendent of the Tongva and Ajachmem people of southern California, Frank listens intently to these voices, and forms their insistent messages into creations that demand a variety of materials. In her hands, soapstone becomes an exquisite bowl, Native grasses weave themselves into a basket, and an intrepid Coyote finds himself formed from an ink pen and deposited on crisp, white paper surrounded by backwards text.

These are the media that L. Frank quite comfortably works with as part of her daily life. She seems to move effortlessly from one material to the next with barely a skip in the smooth beat that keeps her closely in tune with her ancestors' voices. In her book of cartoons, Acorn Soup, Frank encapsulates the perpetually expressive Coyote who unwittingly finds himself in all manner of humorous situations. The situations, however, need to be explained to the reader unfamiliar with Indian humor and history. A handy appendix at the end of the book briefly explains each cartoon. "I wish I didn't have to explain these," says Frank, "but that's part of it. If people don't like it, then their reality is different. If I'm going to inform, I have to explain things. The more knowledge you have on any subject, the more intelligently you can respond." Her fervor to inform others of her culture is the very firmament of her creations. "Part of my obligation to my ancestors is that people will know who we are."

The playful, backwards text seems to be a Coyote ploy beyond the comprehension of the artist herself. The reader must struggle to either mouth the words slowly to get the message, or hold the pages up to a mirror. In the cartoons, Coyote slyly pokes fun at himself as well as the characters around himIndian and non-Indian. "Coyote is the caretaker of the sacred and the profane," Frank explains. "He is a dual character and it is because of his sublime ignorance that things are the way they are. He either saves or destroys the world. Coyote can do everything and he is a necessary, integral part of Native identity. He helps us remember that we are human beings."

Frank began line drawing when she was nine or ten. In her twenties, she began working in watercolors, acrylics, and oil. However, line drawing remained the most natural medium for her. "They just come out," she says. "There's a magic thing that happens with line drawing. The next thing I know, these drawings are done. People try to give me ideas but that's not how it works. It's genetic memory or genetic attitude. It's all channeled through me. When I'm drawing, I'm conscious of other consciousnesses."

As the reader views the cartoons in Acorn Soup and continually flips to the appendix, a history of the indigenous people of California begins to form. The cartoons guide us from the beginning times, through the holocaust of mission days, to the exploitation of Indian culture that is rampant in modern times. Religious symbolism is interwoven with the devastating truth of consumerisma consumerism that engulfs every aspect of living. Coyote emerges from the quagmire with an acerbic and sharp wit. He becomes the not-so subtle reminder that Native people must listen to what is in their hearts and follow a path true to themselves.

Stepping Into the Fire
In the forward to her book, Frank writes, "I grew up in southern California in the 50sI knew I was part Indian, but I always thought I was ApacheI think the more southern your tribe is in California, the harder it is to get a grip on your cultural heritage." This is the great historical blank spot that Frank is trying hard to fill with knowledge. "I strive to have my tribe's name out there because people don't know about us. It's an awful place to be. We have no written language." In addition to her artistic work, Frank is an advocate for indigenous California languages. She works with professors at University of California, Berkeley piecing together the vestiges of an elusive tribal language. "We are trying to make the language come alive. We're adding new vocabulary from lists and archives that we have. We're breathing life into it."

The Tongva and Ajachmem people are sometimes referred to as Juaneno or Gabrielino, but Frank explains that those were the names given to them by the Spanish colonizers who made slaves of the indigenous people. "Those are slave names," says Frank. "How many of my own people know the history of California?" she asks.

In her cartoons and in conversation, Frank refers to the Indian artist who "sells out" or showcases cultural art in a commercial fashion. When asked if she too is "selling out" by using cartoons to explain cultural beliefs, Frank admits, "When I began to do shows, I wondered if I was selling my culture. I've reconciled. I'm camping along the parade route too, but I've come to a peace inside myself. It's how we save things. Any medium that I can use is just a tool to inform others that we exist. We are not extinct and what better sign than to make art?"

As with any artistic creation, Frank's cartoons have sometimes inspired less than enthusiastic responses. "Sometimes people are rigidthey're furious," Frank says. "They ask, 'How can you do this? How can you treat this with humor?' The holocaust of Indian people is not funny, but you laugh or you die. These things have to be looked at. It's not so bad to step into the fire. It's how you rise to the occasion. People look at my cartoons and they ask 'What does this mean?' Remembering Indian history is a dangerous and painful thing, but they [the dominant culture] want you to forget your culture. Pay attentionthis exists. It's all around youin the music of the ocean and the song of the birds. Art is an obligation, something that is a continuous thread that can not be separated from history, religion or our daily life. It's in our daily breath, a compelling force within. Mediums take over and this is the story of your people. It's a voice you must follow. Your ancestors' voices will clarify everything."

Barbara Sorensen is senior editor for Winds of Change magazine.

Acorn Soup is available through:
Heyday Books
P.O. Box 9145
Berkeley, CA 94709
heyday@heydaybooks.com
$7.95, paperback