Walking with Memory: The Art and Attention of Terrill Goseyun

When you head out on the trail, who do you walk with? Best-case scenario, someone with an eye for detail that animates plants, stones and angles of light, someone who knows the shapes of the larger landscape, and can read the weather. Someone who knows the stories, who remembers who came here before you, and who considers the next person coming. You want to go with someone who feels the beauty and grandeur of the place and wants to share it.

Apache violin-maker and draftsman Terrill Goseyun (San Carlos Apache), for example. Integral to Terrill’s two arts is an observation gift, fed by a deep appreciation of beauty, notably the beauty of his people and homelands.  That quality of attention awake in the natural world is the essence of Terrill’s work in the studio, classroom, and community.

Terrill’s photo-realistic pencil drawings have their source “here,” (Terrill taps his head, where memories reside).  Drawn from an abundant archive of recollection, his images portray the everyday activities of a hunting and gathering society, as he remembers his early days: everyone busy gathering, processing, and storing food, making baskets, “always making something.”

The “photo-“ part of Terrill’s process is an intermediate step. To capture images from his mind’s eye, Terrill photographs models, usually family members and friends, to create references. In the resulting drawings, exquisite detail is softened with diffuse morning or evening light, evoking an atmosphere of remembrance.

When Terrill describes a childhood memory, it comes alive visually, almost audibly: his great-uncle always sitting under a mesquite tree making a violin, Terrill and the other kids—maybe a bit unruly for Uncle—coming home from school, Uncle showing them a few steps each day.

Violin-making is another intricate, labor-intensive process. Older family members have told Terrill that the violins have always been in Apache culture, predating the introduction of horses.

Present tense, Terrill follows ancestral seasonal migration routes to where the agave plants grow in steep rocky topography.  Selecting a plant to harvest requires finding one that is culturally appropriate and meets Terrill’s criteria. He notes his particular kinship with the agave plant, a delicacy in traditional Apache foodways.

Fast-forward in a modern way: After scraping, shaping, sanding, tapping, and listening to the instrument emerge, Terrill is onto finishing work. He marvels that the body of the violin carries the rich spectrum of colors—amber, orange, red-brown—of sunrise or sunset illuminating the agave’s mountainous home.  “The same beauty of the mountains,” says Terrill, “is in the plant itself.”

Other patterns show up. Years into making violins, Terrill met some of his family’s instruments at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture (MIAC) and elsewhere. Only then did he discover that his chosen designs were designs that his grandfather used in his violins. Terrill recalls, thoughtfully, sleeping beside his grandfather on the floor whenever his grandfather came to visit.

Terrill’s arts require dedication and time. Has he ever wavered from his work?  Distractions are plentiful, Terrill admits, and circumstances change. “And time flies,” he adds, with both assurance and disbelief.

Yes, he can relate to doubt. Although drawing is fundamental to many media, the assumption persists that artists will move past drawing to another art form. Early in his art-making (“at the time you kind of bruise easily”), he was told that pencil is “not too popular.’’

This comment lodged in Terrill’s mind, but he persevered, making pencil drawings as large as 40”x 60.”  Terrill hesitates, not wanting to boast, but rather to offer encouragement. The first time he entered a professional art show, one of his huge drawings took Best in Show. This endorsement reinforced his belief in himself early on and fueled his motivation. Terrill swears by a bottom line:  “Believe in yourself.”

Making violins, Terrill says, came naturally.  Naturally, how?  He cites learned behavior and exposure to the process throughout his childhood. He stops there, but his approach to mentoring youth hints at his path.

“All it takes is an interest.”  He can gently notice and guide his mentees toward their interests. Certain gifts, Terrill maintains, are innate and run in the family.  Children are born with a gift. The gift itself helps to guide a young child. As Indigenous people, Terrill says, and in Apache culture, “the gifts are what clear the path as each one moves forward. Each gift is like a tool, like a shovel, rake, a hoe, you clear a path for somebody behind you… The ones behind us are the generations that are coming.”

Terrill teaches drawing, violin-making, and Apache culture, history, and language. He has a full plate, and he plans to work more with children and youth. “I try to help as much as possible.  As much,”—he is candid about living in service,—“as I can handle.” The Community Spirit Award is creating possibilities throughout his community.

Today, Apache violin-makers can be counted on one hand. Archiving and preservation are always on Terrill’s mind, including preparing today’s youth to teach the next ones coming. Terrill has his eye on teens who are participating culturally and have already learned the traditional songs. Contained within the songs are maps and stories that provide a strong basis for furthering cultural knowledge. While Terrill supports these younger generations to further their academic education, he wants them to be grounded in their cultural identity, for “a greater chance at success in both worlds.”