A New Generation

A New Generation

Shoalwater celebrations

Shoalwater celebrations: Modern artists cherish, preserve tribal culture

  • Oct 28, 2023

Dakota Davis describes the photo of himself holding a shield, a blanket and wearing a cedar hat, as a prayer to his late grandfather, who owned the items. “I learn a lot about my family, about myself, who I am, where I’m from, by putting together these pieces and they become very powerful photos to me,” he says.

A month-long exhibit of art by members of northwest Pacific County’s Shoalwater Bay Tribe will open in Astoria next week.

Four living artists are being honored as part of a celebration of the life of Eugene Landry.

Landry, who died in 1988, painted images of the Shoalwaters during a key period in their history as they worked to retain their federal recognition. Landry’s story will be highlighted in the Nov. 9 edition of Coast Weekend.

The exhibit will be hosted by the Astoria Visual Arts gallery, 1000 Duane St., Astoria. It opens Nov. 11 and runs through Dec. 2. An all-day opening reception is planned noon to 8 p.m. Nov. 11 with a talk by curator Judith Altruda at 5 p.m. Conversations with the modern artists are planned 1 p.m. Dec. 2 at the AVA gallery.

To read the full story click here.


Here are details of the four whose work will be featured with their artists’ statements accompanying the exhibit.

Altruda, who lives in Tokeland and Astoria, is a metal artist who has dedicated hours to promoting the work of Landry since discovering a cache of 70 of his paintings in a disused Grayland auto shop in 2019.

Her comments on each of the artists accompanies their submitted texts:

Earl Davis, a U.S. Marine Corps veteran, served as the Shoalwater Bay Tribe’s culture director from 2006 to 2023. He is pictured with a 1971 painting by Eugene Landry of his late father, Bruce Davis.

Earl Davis, a member of the Shoalwater Bay Indian Tribe in Tokeland, Wash., is a tribal artist trained in the Coast Salish and Willapa Chinook art styles.

He works mostly in wood and metal and draws inspiration from historic pieces and traditional knowledge to create contemporary interpretations of ancient art of the region.

He was the Shoalwater Tribe’s culture director from 2006 to 2023 and served in the U.S. Marine Corps between 2000 and 2004.

Altruda noted that Davis is now a full-time artist who has public arts commissions. “He brings a body of art from this part of the coast,” she said, noting that coastal Southwest Washington tribal art differs from better-known Haida and other First Nations’ work from northern areas of the West Coast. “The coastal area has a different look,” she said. “He has taken that and put his own spin on it. He uses cutting-edge technology to create his art — he uses hand tools as well as laser cutters.”

Earl Davis works in wood and metal, drawing inspiration from historic pieces and traditional knowledge to create contemporary interpretations of ancient art.

Dakota Davis

“I’m Dakota Davis or Chutwin (Little Bear), son of Earl Davis and direct descendant of Bob Saliki. A lot of my photography is inspired by the stories of my ancestors, the nature around us, nostalgia, and whatever I’m really feeling at the time. I try to tie in myself as an object to the natural world around us.

For example the photo of me holding a brief case, dressed in an outfit that you would see someone wearing at a dinner table, represents a lost character with all these good stories, bad traumas, and experiences that he carries with him (the brief case) everywhere. Looking at the vast ocean, he doesn’t know where to journey to next.

I explore my cultural identity through photos of prayers. The photo of me holding the shield, with the blanket and cedar hat, all belong to my grandfather who passed away and I was sending a prayer to him. I learn a lot about my family, about myself, who I am, where I’m from, by putting together these pieces and they become very powerful photos to me.”

Altruda commended the vigor with which Dakota Davis embraces his heritage. “He is young and pursues his cultural identity through his photography,” she said. He can also be found working on boats, continuing the family tradition. “He fishes, and the Davises are a fishing family, so there’s some pride in that.”


Madison, a 24-year old tribal artist, has worked in multiple mediums, from makeup to ink on paper and digital art.


“My name is Madison; I am a 24-year old artist from the Shoalwater Bay Indian Tribe. My family descends from the lower Chinook bands, the Chehalis and Nisqually. I work with multiple mediums from makeup, to ink on paper, digital art, and more recently, beadwork and sewing.

In late 2018, I fell into a kind of depression that I almost didn’t make it out of. One evening, I prayed for the first time in a long time. I sensed as if someone came to me to guide me and give me something to believe in.

This is when I started beading consistently every day. I started receiving dreams of my late Chitcha [grandma] Lorraine, she would show me glimpses of her work, asking favors of me, and so forth. I started journaling these dreams and asking my family members more about her, and our family lineage. She passed away when I was very young.

My Chitcha was a stellar beadwork artist. She would make these elaborate patterns in bracelets, earrings, hair pieces, belts, doll outfits, etc. I inherited a mini doll with a custom-beaded outfit when I was around six years old. I have yet to see all of the pieces that Chitcha left behind, but I know that they’re safely tucked away into the caring hands of my family members.

I feel as if it is my duty to continue asking my family about our lineage, to hunt down Chitcha’s beadwork pieces and find the pieces from my dreams, spend time with my family, and to carry on our traditions of making beautiful heirloom pieces.

Hiyas Masi. I thank you for providing me the opportunity to feel heard and seen.”


Altruda said she appreciates the way Madison’s modern work honors the memory of her creative grandmother, Lorraine Luwizi Anderson. “Madison uses herself as a canvas with her beading and make-up. The bead work comes from her grandmother, who inspired her. It is really cool to have that connection,” she said.


Sophia Anderson is a member of the Shoalwater Bay Tribe and grew up on the reservation on a rural coast of the Olympia Peninsula. Her work is fueled by her transition to life away from her roots after growing up on traditional land surrounded by her tribal community. She holds a bachelor’s in arts degree from the Evergreen State College and currently resides in Seattle.

Sophia Anderson paints on found wood panels and does beadwork, drawing inspiration from photographic records of her tribe’s history.


She paints on found wood panels, salvaged from a beach adjacent to the reservation, where the coastline has eroded down almost two miles a result of dams built on the Columbia River.

She draws inspiration for her paintings from photo references of her ancestors ranging from tintypes taken by Edward Curtis to family photos. Her beading is a meditative, healing gesture created in response to the content of her paintings. Fundamental to her practice is researching the documented history of her tribe; specifically looking at at the writings of James Swan through a critical socio-political lens.

Her mission ultimately is to interpret the relationships between genealogical and geographical history and trauma.

Anderson is Altruda’s grown daughter. There’s pride in her voice as she describes Anderson’s approach to art, using pieces of wood for her base. “It comes from homes destroyed on Washaway Beach [North Cove, WA]. It’s weather-worn, and irregular,” Altruda said. “It’s continuing something we are emphasizing—that commitment to place. That’s the thread running through all of it.”


To read the full story click here.


Tokeland’s Fisher Poet

Tokeland’s Fisher Poet

Jack Brockhoff’s gear shed, drawing by Eugene Landry, 1969


Tokeland, Washington is a fishing village  (population 300) located on Willapa Bay. One of its most cherished residents is Loretta Brockhoff. Approaching her 93rd birthday, she can tell you many stories about life here; from the 1962 Columbus Day storm to the day the cannery burned down. Next to her home is an old gear shed where her husband, a commercial fisherman, once worked on his crab pots. Like a lot of old Tokeland shacks, its exterior was covered in faded fishing floats.It was picturesque and funky, the kind of subject matter favored by Gene Landry.

She remembers, “One day, Gene knocked on my door and asked if I would mind if he drew that old gear shed.” He spent an afternoon in her yard drawing the shed from various angles, she recalled. A watercolor he later made of it now hangs in her home, next to photos of her husband’s fishing boat, the Shirley Lee. And the old shed, now empty, still stands next door.

Loretta’s poems about the fishing life capture a world unknown to most. They are rich in detail and specific experience.

Loretta, whose “big dream” was to become a newspaper reporter, came to Tokeland in the summer of 1947. A high school student, she spent the summer at her sister’s home here. She got a job shaking crab at Nelsons Cannery for 4 cents a pound. Basically, she never left. Three years later, she married Jack Brockhoff, a commercial crab fisherman. While raising their five children and working at the cannery, Loretta was also a charter member of the Tokeland Mother’s Club, (a precursor to the PTA). Somehow, she also found time to write. The subject matter was her life.


Loretta, circa early 1960s, in her Tokeland kitchen

One of her poems, The Tale of the Barbara Lee, gives the tragic account of a crab boat that sank while attempting to aid the coast guard boat Invincible.

It happened on January 29, 1960. Loretta listened to it go down on Hallicrafter radio in her kitchen, hoping it wasn’t her husband’s boat in trouble. She wasn’t the only one:

The wives along the coast set their hallicrafters

Ship to shore on the marine band channel

For each lived her own nightmare

Of having her world ripped asunder by one call

It wasn’t something you were ever prepared for

It was just the way you lived, praying and hoping…

In 2020, Loretta read her poetry at Astoria’s iconic Fisher Poet’s Gathering to standing ovations. It was great to see this (then) 90-year-old poetess get some long-deserved public recognition. Loretta hopes to return this to Fisher Poets this year. “If I’m still alive, I’ll be there,” she promised.

To read more about the upcoming Fisher Poets Gathering (February 24-26) and Loretta, check out Hipfish Monthly, Astoria’s alternative newspaper.


Loretta Brockhoff on the stage at KALA, Astoria, Oregon 2020, reading her poem, Home from the Sea.


Home from the Sea

The old hallicrafter radio, ship to shore,

Sits on the kitchen shelf.

Our lifeline—our contact

It cuts across the kitchen,

It cuts across our lives!


You so seldom speak on the radio

But I track you thru your running mates

As they banter back and forth.

Limey had tuna signs offshore

Hear the fish are hitting off Blanco

Awful long haul down there

Rumors of tuna 200 fathom straight out

Aw getting dark—better pack it in for the night!


They come home from the sea,

They smell like dead fish, rotten bait,

They smell like dried saltwater

Like diesel, oil, life and death!

Oh God, we’re glad to have them back!


Life goes on; summer is underway

Beach fires, hot dogs and swimming

With the kids at the Davis swimming hole.

Trip should be winding down

Fuel and supplies running low.

Will they head home or for another port?

The old hallicrafter cuts thru our lives

As we wait some more!


You catch your breath,

Your heart skips a beat!

You plaster your ear to the speaker

As you scream at the kids

Be quiet! Someone’s in trouble

Whew! Not one of ours

Earl is the closest—heading their way

Three men aboard—taking on water

89 to 90 miles to Newport!


Rumors are flying—the boats are heading home

Maybe the hatch is loaded, maybe not.

Radio says they should make the dock around six.

As the boats slip around the corner onto the dock

I spot your blood-spattered cap cocked over one ear.

That stupid grin lights up your blue eyes

As they momentarily meet mine.

Go get me a beer, I hear you yell;

As the cannery crew arrives,

The work of unloading begins

One trip safely over,

Another soon to come!


They come home from the sea

They smell like dead fish, like rotten bait;

Like diesel oil, like life and death.

Oh God, we are glad to have them back!




Gap Year in Tokeland

Gap Year in Tokeland

In 1970, Bill Mueller, a third-year art student at the University of Oregon was at a crossroads in his life. “It was a difficult time for me,” he recounted in 2021,  “I was only 23 or 24 years old; I’m wondering what this is all about? What is my future going to be?” Seeking answers, the future public works sculptor took a year off from his studies. He moved to the tiny fishing village of Tokeland. There, he met Eugene Landry.

“I think we must have met at Capt’s Tavern.” The local’s hangout overlooked a salt marsh and was steps away from the cabin where Bill was living. He described how Gene “stood out” in the tiny community; “He was like a rock star, driven around in a either a vintage ’49 Cadillac or a Citroen by his Canadian caregiver.” Discovering they had a common interest in art, Gene invited Bill to his studio on Willapa Bay.

“One day he asked if he could paint my portrait.  It was a beautiful day, sunny. The light quality was incredible. There were some windows facing the ocean. We ended up in a long conversation. He was engaged with me on one level and on another level, he was very engaged in painting. When he painted, he was in another world. He was not in a wheelchair.”

Bill recalled how Gene held a brush between his teeth to add details, “It made a different sound when it contacted the canvas–different from when he hand-held it.”

Portrait of William Mueller by Eugene Landry, oil on canvas, 32″x17″ 1970

Landry became an art mentor for Bill. “I’m hanging out with Gene, visiting with him. He’s telling me all kinds of stories. It’s like he also was part of my journey to the art world. He had been to the art school in Seattle. My brother said he also went to Paris. I really cherished the time I got to spend with him.”

The following year, Bill returned to the University of Oregon. There, he came under the tutelage of Jan Zach, Chair of the Sculpture Department and an internationally known Czech/American sculptor. Bill graduated with a BFA in sculpture in 1974, and worked as Zach’s assistant for 9 years on large-scale public art commissions.

Bill has enjoyed a long and successful career in public art; his large scale sculptures can be seen in many towns along the west coast, Idaho and Colorado.

“Journey to Paradise”
Sited at Plaza of the Rockies, Colorado Springs, CO

Upon learning about the ongoing Eugene Landry exhibit at the Shoalwater Bay Tribal Museum, Bill donated two letters Gene wrote to him when he resumed his studies at the U of O. “Gene wrote one of them from Arizona. He’s saying ‘I’m going a little crazy, away from the ocean. And then you flip it over and he did a drawing of a guillotine. It’s a wonderful letter from him, handwritten in black ink.”

“Being that far from the ocean and water does funny things to your head.”

In August 2022, Bill and his family traveled from their home in Sedalia, Colorado to Washington State for a family reunion. They came out to Tokeland and revisited old haunts.

The cabin where Bill lived in 1970, still standing in 2022.


They went to the Shoalwater Bay Heritage Museum to see the Landry exhibit.  Located near the former site of Gene’s studio, its windows overlook the same view as when Bill sat for his portrait over 50 years ago. The impact of encountering his friend’s art after so many years was, at times, emotional.

Looking back, Bill reflected; “It’s interesting when you meet somebody who has a challenge like that. He was only 34 or 35 when I met him. He was still a young man. He loved painting and it brought him a great deal of pleasure. He was very animated. He was somebody to me that transcended his physical condition. And I was amazed by him.”

William Mueller, Shoalwater Bay Heritage Museum, with Landry’s letters in display case.



Jeffro and the Lost Landry Print

Jeffro and the Lost Landry Print

Driftwood horse construction, 2021

Tokeland artist Jeffro Uitto http://www.jeffrouitto.com/home.html collects his “art supplies” off the beach. He creates life size sculptures of horses, lions, eagles, rhinos and whales, using locally collected driftwood. Each piece of wood, shaped by the elements of tide and time, is used “as found”. Each work is constructed intuitively, somewhat like piecing together a puzzle. It can take years to find the right piece to complete a sculpture. When finished, the works travel far from Tokeland—to art shows, music festivals, galleries and museums across the world.

Recently, Jeffro found a previously unknown work by late Tokeland artist Eugene Landry–and delivered another puzzle piece in Landry’s story.

Jeffro, age 40, grew up here. While he never met Gene, as a child he and other local kids played in Landry’s abandoned geodesic dome.


“It was like a clubhouse,” he said. The dome overlooked a driftwood-strewn beach offering miles of beachcombing treasure.

Last summer, Jeffro was helping neighbors repair their roof when he spotted a Landry print in their garage. “I recognized Gene’s style right away,” he said. His elderly neighbors had bought it years ago at an estate sale; it had been stapled to their garage ever since. He bartered for the print, then carefully removed the rusting staples holding it to the wall. Other than a few small holes, it is in excellent condition.

The scene on left, of weathered boats and female nude, like Venus rising out of the mudflats, is a companion piece to “Brown’s Point”, (1978) on the right.

Brown’s Point, 1978 ink and watercolor, offset reproduction

Untitled from Brown's Point

newly found Landry lithograph

Landry’s loose, gestural lines interplay with watercolor washes, like soft jazz chords accenting a melody.  Landry’s confident style belies the reality of his physical decline. He was steadily loosing control of his only usable hand. Up until the late ’70s, he had painted mostly still lifes and portraits in oils. But, due to the physical exertion of working for prolonged periods on a single oil painting, he began working almost entirely in watercolor. His subject matter also shifted— from his self-described “trademark” bleached cow skull to outdoor scenes. In a 1978 interview, Gene said, “My art has changed. The skull is down there nailed to a tree by the path now. It’s semi-retired…All artists thrive on new experiences.”

Jeffro agrees with Landry:  “I think that’s completely true, [about artists thriving on new experiences]. New experiences “bring new ideas, new objects of inspiration.”

Jeff Uitto in his workshop, 2022.

Jeffro generously donated the print to the Landry exhibit. Soon it will be framed (staple holes and all) and displayed at the tribal museum. Meanwhile, one wonders: was this part of a series? Are there more lost works out there waiting–like puzzle pieces—to be found?

Stay tuned!




R.I.P. Sara Nelson

R.I.P. Sara Nelson

Judith Altruda and Sara Nelson, 2020

This sweet lady was a huge supporter of Gene’s project. In 2020, she donated two Landry paintings to our project. Read more about it here
Yesterday, Sara’s son called to tell me she had passed away. She had recently moved from Aberdeen to Colorado, to be closer to him. He told me she’d left a list of names and phone numbers to contact after she died. I was honored to be on that list.
Sara was always encouraging me: “I’m waiting for your book about Gene to come out!” and an ardent follower of this project. Just before Sara moved away, she found a portfolio of drawings in her garage and gave them to me. I was able to locate one of the models from the portfolio, and he has filled in more of Gene’s story. (This will be its own separate post.)
R.I.P. Sara, I’m going to miss our text exchanges of wild life babies-especially possums! I promise to finish my book.