A word of explanation first - Raven Tales is a 26 episode television series, but more - all along it was developed as an educational tool for Native American children. As part of this first entry I thought it might be interesting to blog an interview about the origins of Raven Tales.
Christopher Kientz traces his Native ancestry back to the Eastern Cherokee
nation of Tennessee and the Dawes Rolls. For the past ten years,
Kientz has worked as an independent producer and animator, developing
multimedia projects for commercial clients in both Canada and the United
States. He has scripted, produced, and directed award-winning video, animation,
interactive media, and website projects for numerous clients. Growing
up among the Navajo, Zuni, and Hopi people of New Mexico gave
Kientz a great respect for North American Indigenous art and culture. Raven
Tales represents the culmination of this interest. Raven Tales is both an animation
and production company founded in 2004 by Kientz and Simon
James, and the name of a cartoon series, the first six stories with Raven as
the central character. In subsequent episodes that shifted from Raven, Kientz
and Simon have consulted with First Nations elders to develop stories from
respective Indigenous groups.
Linda Morra interviewed Kientz via the Internet in November 2007.
lm Might we begin with a brief history of the inception of Raven Tales? How
did the idea come about?
ck I grew up surrounded by fairy tales, either in book form or as told to me
by my mother and father. For the most part, these stories were in the
usual pan-European tradition. However, since my mother is half-Cherokee,
I was also introduced to a number of traditional Native American
stories and characters. All of these stories had a profound and lasting
effect on me, but the most memorable were always the stories of the
Cherokee people, which my mother had told me and which she had
learned from her father. Quite a few of these stories featured tricksters
of one kind or another, like Rabbit and Water Beetle. Even as a child, I
always found their adventures more interesting than those of, say, Aesop
or the Grimm brothers.
There was something liberating in the idea of a central protagonist
who wasn’t necessarily or always moral and certainly not an innocent à
la Snow White, Cinderella, and Pinocchio, but a character driven by
self-interest, especially because his or her self-interest almost always
served a greater good. For example, Rabbit inadvertently ends up giving
fire to the First People out of a wish to smoke them out of his home.
He succeeds in smoking them out, but they end up with fire, which
makes their lives better and advances their culture. In the same way,
Water Beetle begins the creation of the whole world by tricking other animals
to bring earth up from below the ocean that, at the time, covers all
things. He tricks them because he wants a place where he can rest for
a bit. From self-interest and trickery comes the beginning of all things.
These trickster stories were in stark contrast to the very direct moralizing
of so many of the other fairy tales with which I grew up, and seemed
richer somehow in their moral complexity. As a child, I couldn’t know
this complexity was part of the attraction, but I know I was always drawn
to trickster stories.
I also grew up in New Mexico, so traditional Native American stories
and sacred objects like Katsina and Navajo weavings and sand paintings
were simply a part of day-to-day life. A number of my friends were also
Native American, primarily Apache, so growing up in New Mexico I
learned more about Kokopelli and Coyote, who were central creation figures
in the southwest, and also about our tricksters. Coyote especially
fascinated me because he was both a physical reality—actual coyotes
skulked around our orchard—as well as a spiritual being responsible
for the birth of the First People, the scattering of the stars, and so much
more. The day-to-day experience of dealing with coyotes informed part
of this fascination. My Apache friend Richard made sure that I knew to
avoid the stare of a coyote, to turn around and take another road if one
crossed my path, and to gather up its scat and bury it around the house
so spirits wouldn’t come in and so forth.
When I moved to Vancouver, I was introduced to the central character
of the Northwest folklore, Raven, and I knew immediately that I
wanted to tell not just his stories, but all of the stories I remembered from
my childhood—stories of Coyote and Rabbit and the Rough Faced Girl
and so on. The main reason for wanting to tell these trickster stories was
to give them a central place alongside pan-European stories and to
introduce the trickster, generally denigrated to second-rate status as a
character of folklore, to a new audience who could see the figure as I
did—as a bringer of light, an embodiment of life in all its complexity.
A big part of this initial impulse came from talking to other people in
the Vancouver area who had no idea that Raven was such an important
character of folklore. They knew all of the pan-European stories and
characters—but none of the local ones such as B’gwus, Dzunukwa, Kolus,
and many more. Yet these stories and characters were every bit as compelling.
Even though they were surrounded by masks and carvings with
these characters present, they had no idea who they were, or what larger
role they played in communities that lived in their presence.
lm So what became the driving impulse of this project?
ck Part of what drove me was the idea that these stories were generally
only to be found in anthropological journals or books, and that most of
these retellings lacked the humour of the originals or oral versions I
remembered. I also thought the stories were perfect for animation, given
the fantastical nature of the medium and the young audience. I wanted
other children to know these stories as I had, as something different, with
all of the moral ambiguity and humour intact. So I guess the initial idea
was to do two things: tell the stories of Raven and his ilk as characters
central to a rich and fascinating tradition, and to put them into a format
that would be accessible to young children and general audiences.
lm In terms of satisfying the impulse to create in “a format that would be
accessible to young children and general audiences,” might you elaborate
on your audience? Do you have priorities in terms of for whom you
create this animation series? Might you elaborate on your (or your
team’s) objectives?
ck Ultimately, we found a studio in Calgary called New Machine Studios,
which already had about twenty percent of their staff with Indigenous
status. They were also willing to work with us in relation to hiring some
specific talent we had found, such as animator Caleb Hystad, now one
of our directors and editors.
We create largely for an audience that is comprised of six- to elevenyear-
olds, which is the major demographic for animation. Our first
hope was to ensure that Indigenous children in Canada, and Native
Americans in the United States, would have a show that would be based
on stories from their own communities with Native-based characters
that were positive. We even went out into the community at friendship
centres and hogans and asked the children what stories they wanted to
see and wrote scripts based on those requests. But we also hoped for a
wider audience that would embrace these stories much like the folklore
from Europe and Asia. So, in addition to Native American children,
children from all cultures could see and appreciate these stories.
lm How did you begin the process?
ck I roughed in the general concept of retelling traditional folklore from
the point of view of a few major characters—Frog, Eagle, and Raven.
Then, by happenstance, I met Simon James, a Native-American animator
who was also working along the same lines. He and I worked
together to generate the first six stories we wanted to tell. All of the stories
had Raven as a central character who, by his actions, helps the First
People to progress towards one kind of enlightenment or another. After
that, we approached First Nations Chiefs to ask permission to tell the
stories as we’d told them.
lm How might you characterize your interactions with the First Nations
Chiefs when you and Simon approached them to ask permission to tell
the stories? Obviously, their response was ultimately positive because
you are proceeding with the animation series, but was it consistently
so? Were there reservations expressed? Did they have—or do they continue
to have—input in the process?
ck Our interactions with First Nations councils and hereditary Chiefs have
been uniformly positive, although they were all initially somewhat puzzled
by our approach. Traditionally, First Nations councils and Chiefs
are not asked permission by authors or television producers to have
their stories told. Since all of the material is already in the public domain
(via anthropological texts), First Nations no longer have any legal control
over their oral traditions or artwork. That’s why you find so many
knock-off prints and masks that are not Native American in origin but
made in China.
We were actually advised by a lawyer not to ask permission from the
councils, as that might imply some legal ownership on their part. But
we felt it was the right thing to do—they did own these stories—so we
asked anyway. The Haida were especially happy to have us ask for their
input because, in the past, government groups like the National Film
Board created adaptations of Haida stories without any of their input.
We also made sure to create some revenue streams back to the community
in the form of various donations to American Indian Study programs.
In addition to getting permission, we’ve also worked with Indigenous
representatives to help shape the scripts and, just as with the
process of getting permission, this part has been a great experience,
keeping us honest, really. It’s also helped us solidify support for Raven
Tales as a cornerstone for Indigenous education in Canada.
lm Does that mean that there are plans in the works to do animated trickster
stories that are Cherokee in origin? Please, correct me if I am
wrong—the animated stories I have seen thus far seem to be Haida in
origin. What are the plans for future animations vis-à-vis the trickster?
ck The first four stories were all Haida, so your sense of that is correct. All
of that had to do with the affiliations of the major producers. We knew
from the start we wanted to feature folklore from across North America,
but we wanted to establish a base first. The second part of the first
season, episodes ten and twelve, are both Cherokee stories. Episode
ten, for example, is the story of how sickness entered the world. This story
features designs and words in Cherokee; it is book-ended with the regular
characters being told the story via Frog. So we stay in the same
Northwestern setting with the same major characters, but we move
around geographically as part of the story being told. We’ve done this
with episodes eight to thirteen actually, so we’re expanding our base of
stories and are moving across North America as we tell them. We even
have two Coyote stories, so we will feature other tricksters as the series
continues. As for future animation, I am working with Gerald McDermott,
a famous children’s author, to create some animation based on
his own series of trickster tales.
lm Aside from Simon James and Gerald McDermott, how did you develop
your current production team?
ck Simon and I spent a long time trying to pitch Raven Tales to existing studios
in Canada, but none was interested. They didn’t think there would
be demand from broadcasters. Even after we found a broadcaster willing
to put the show on the air nationally, studios still didn’t want to do
the show. They felt like we couldn’t find enough foreign broadcasters.
Studios also felt our wish to have a studio willing to hire at least a good
proportion of the animation talent from the Indigenous population was
out of line. We found there were quite a few Indigenous artists and animators,
but few were working steadily in the business, and we wanted to
change that.
lm If one of the challenges you faced was trying to persuade or locate willing
broadcasters, what would you say have been other challenges? How
did you resolve these?
ck Even before we got to the stage of seeking broadcasters, we found it
very difficult to find financing. When we first started out creating Raven
Tales, we sought funding as a non-profit agency from groups like the
Ford Foundation, CPB/PBS, the National Film Board of Canada, the
Gates Foundation, and the National Indian Education Association
(NIEA), among others. They all suggested that the medium of computer
animation wasn’t something they could support because it didn’t
reflect the authentic or traditional standards for Native American art.
My belief, and Simon’s as well, is that the stories, the people who tell
them, and the quality of the final piece are the most important aspect
of the work, not the medium, so it was perplexing to us as Native American
artists to be told we should self-censor our work to meet the demands
of a group of non-Natives so they could be assured that what they were
supporting was “authentic.” So we turned to private finance and became
a for-profit company. We ended up leveraging our personal equity to get
loans to make the show.
We also found it hard to find production companies actually willing
to produce the show. Even with full financing in place, production companies
saw the show and the market as too limited to invest their time
and production team. I don’t blame them really, since classically Native
American or First Nations programming is ghettoized to time slots or
channels with a limited audience. Eventually, we found a production
company who could see that there might be a larger audience if the
show was designed and produced to be mainstream while it still avoided
homogenization. We resolved all of these issues through sheer will and
perseverance. Both Simon and I felt strongly enough about telling these
stories not to give up. We also had the support of First Nations communities
who were eager for a show that would tell their stories.
lm Although, as you said earlier, you believe animation appeals to children
(one of the primary audiences targeted), what do you think are the
implications of using this form, especially when we consider the original
oral transmission of the said trickster stories?
ck Simon and I thought a great deal about the use of animation to tell
these stories and the differences between an oral tradition and the
medium of animation. Clearly, there are some major differences—an oral
presentation allows the teller of the story to improvise, elaborate, and
interact with the audience. It is a more egalitarian and immediate form
of storytelling, fluid and interactive. Animation, on the other hand, is
a fixed medium with the creator and the audience removed in space
and time. Animation also forces upon the audience a more passive role,
much more than both an oral retelling or even a written transcript. It’s
pretty much impossible to form a direct parallel between the two medi-
ums.
Among non-Natives, especially anthropologists, there is a sense often
that the removal of a story from the oral tradition and adaptation to
another medium, especially a contemporary one, invalidates the experience.
This response may be valid; however, it assumes that the oral tradition
of storytelling is the only way Indigenous populations tell stories
that can be adapted, which is far from the reality. Indigenous people also
have dance, sculpture, and the visual arts, with which we may draw closer
parallels to more contemporary mediums like animation. Ultimately,
Simon and I felt like the medium of animation had more in common
with traditional carving and dance; both of these mediums require a
great deal of craftsmanship and preparatory work, allow less for improvisation,
and require a more rigid, formal sensibility. Carving and dance,
like animation, also remove the creator from an interactive relationship
with the audience. In the case of dance, the audience is involved only
as a spectator; the audience is a passive participant for the most part.
In the case of a totem, the audience reads the work from bottom to top,
but otherwise the work is more spectacle than narrative.
So, in the case of Raven Tales, we placed an emphasis on adapting
carved and dance works in forging the animated series. For example, we
modelled the characters to look like traditional Northwest Coast carvings
and also created walk cycles and character movements to mirror
Raven or Eagle dancers. We also placed an emphasis on dialogue, as in
dance performances in which the dialogue is sung, as well as an overarching
narrative voice, which is also present during dance presentations.
On a final note: in creating the series, our hope was to make Raven
Tales a starting place for children, not a capstone to their experience of
Indigenous stories. The ideal response to seeing Raven Tales would be
to seek out more cultural resources, including elders who can tell these
stories in their original language and form.
lm Might you track for me the manner in which you and Simon—and perhaps
other members of the production team—negotiate amongst yourselves
about the stories you select and how you choose to represent them
(for example, a character’s voice)?
ck Generally, Simon and I suggest the stories first with the idea of concentrating
on a particular character with the story somehow impacting his
or her life. The idea is to give each character in Raven Tales a chance to
grow and learn. Since this is a children’s show, most of the lessons we
concentrate on relate to basic value lessons—for example, the importance
of honesty, or believing in yourself, or helping others and work-
ing together. So, in the case of Sea Wolf, for example, we reworked a
Coast Salish story about the first totems to be about a character named
Gwai, who learns an important lesson about keeping promises and finding
his own particular skill. Once Simon and I agree on the general
outline, I write the story, then I work with the cast members to finalize
dialogue and narration. Then we go to the appropriate First Nations
council—in the case of Sea Wolf, the Cowichan—and make sure we
aren’t doing anything out of step with the original intent of the story.
With their approval, we write the final script. The animators also work
to give each character its own individual quirks. Once we move into
production, the script rarely changes, but we give the cast some latitude
in relation to how they do their voice work. Overall, the whole
process is highly collaborative and also pretty rewarding.
lm Let’s talk about your most recent work. How does your new partnership
with Atomic Cartoons and the development of Task Force Shaman
relate to or fit into the ideological parameters of Raven Tales?
ck Task Force Shaman was something I came up with as we travelled around
the world as part of the National Geographic All Roads Film Project
and showed Raven Tales to various Indigenous communities. Each time
we’d show Raven Tales, whether it was in New Zealand with Maori children
watching, or in Norway with Sami children, they all talked about
wanting a show about their own culture, or a show with characters from
their communities. I also noticed that many children outside the immediate
Indigenous community knew more about American superhero
characters than local folklore. For example, a group of children from an
Australian school in Sydney had never heard of the Rainbow Serpent or
Dreamtime, two amazing folklore elements from the Aboriginal communities
that were part of their own country’s heritage. I found the same
thing in British Columbia, where schoolchildren could tell you all about
Batman or Superman, but had no idea who Dzunukwa was, or Kolus, or
any number of local folkloric characters. One school in Campbell River
actually had a totem with a Sea Wolf design across the street, yet most
of the students had never heard the story of Sea Wolf or knew the connection
to Campbell River. So, I got it in my head that what I’d like to
do after Raven Tales, albeit along the same ideological line, is to create
a series that puts a group of Indigenous children from across the globe
in a contemporary setting and make them the heroes of the series. I
thought such a series would have a broader appeal and find a larger
audience than Raven Tales, even as it remained a celebration of Indigenous
folklore. That led me to talking to people like Cliff Curtis, a Maori
actor, as well as contacts I’d made from my travels, to see what they
thought. All of them loved the idea. I also got to thinking about commonalities
in terms of Indigenous cultures and came up with the shaman
angle. All of these cultures still have elements of shamanistic rites and
still abide by shamanistic ritual. I thus created a backstory that would
bring together these different characters and give them a reason to be
heroes in a contemporary setting, while still using folkloric elements
from each culture. As with Raven Tales, we’re still going to work with
Indigenous communities to craft the stories and make sure we aren’t
fudging anything—only, this time, we’re going to move the action from
the past to the present, and give the whole series a more global focus.
lm And give us something more to which to look forward. Thank you very
much, Chris.
ck Thank you.
