Their tradition of tattooing their faces was banned by the Japanese colonizers of Taiwan in the early half of the 20th century. Their tradition of weaving has been under threat because of capitalism and the industrialization of society. And yet the Seediq people have managed to preserve their ancestral customs, while introducing creative ideas to adapt to changing times.
Lidu Lumu, a Seediq artisan from central Taiwan’s Nantou County, said her ambition is to create a popular brand for her products, which she makes using old weaving instruments and by drawing on traditional Seediq totems.
“I believe our tribe’s unique weaving art has the potential to shine in the world,” she said.
In the last few years the Seediq tribe has certainly made a comeback. For most of the last seven decades, ever since the Kuomintang arrived in Taiwan in the late 1940s, the Seediq were wrongly classified as a subgroup of the Atayal tribe, to make it easier to administer them. The long-awaited recognition finally came in April 2008, when the Seediq were officially listed as Taiwan’s 14th indigenous group.
Recently the tribe has become much better known not only in Taiwan, but throughout the world, thanks to the epic film “The Rainbow Warriors: Seediq Bale,” which has already been nominated for a Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Due for commercial release in Taiwan this September, the movie tells the story of the people’s famous revolt in 1930 against the Japanese colonial rulers.
As the group’s history is gaining publicity, Seediq arts and crafts, which could play a critical role in the cultural industry, are attracting new attention. Yet this prominence is only possible because Seediq artists have been quietly honing their skills since long before all the recent attention.
Lidu Lumu is one of the few younger women able to weave in the old way. “Weaving was considered a very important part of a woman’s virtue, and girls were expected to master it before they were married. But now you won’t find even a few women my age who know how to do it,” the 45-year-old said.
“People don’t like to learn traditional weaving because it’s really demanding,” said Lidu Lumu, who, with the support of her husband, started learning weaving from the tribe’s elderly women when she was 25.
With an “ubun,” a wooden loom, weavers have to sit in an L shape on the ground for an extended period of time, she said. Moreover, traditional Seediq weaving involves cultivating ramie, processing its fiber for spinning and making the brittle material into cloth.
It took Lidu Lumu five years to gain the whole set of skills. Then she set out to learn sewing, patchwork and design by participating in classes outside of the tribal village.
“Traditional patterns are somewhat limited and dull in color, and when I blended them with Japanese cotton, leather or patchwork art, they had greater market appeal,” she said.
To promote her works as a market brand, Lidu Lumu opened a studio in her hometown in the 1990s. Her work began to win prizes in design competitions, and was recognized as one of the best 100 souvenirs representing Taiwan in 2008. They can now be purchased in airports and museums of indigenous culture.
Though she has brought new elements into the tribe’s weaving art, Lidu Lumu sticks to handmade cloth and the diamond shape, which has a special significance to the Seediq. “Blending old and new to create fashionable appeal to customers is how I want more people to learn of the Seediq’s cultural assets,” she said.
Tradition has also inspired Awi Tumun, who like Lidu Lumu lives in Nantou’s Renai Township. His craft is applying the face-tattooing art onto leather.
“The importance of face-tattooing can never be underestimated, as it is recognition of a woman’s weaving skills and a man’s hunting prowess as well as his ability to protect the weak,” said Awi Tumun in his workshop.
In tattooing, he added, one can trace the Gaga, or the set of rules that guides the tribe in their life and activities.
Leather, which is close to skin color, is the medium that allows him to carry out his tattooing work, which provides an introduction to the Gaga, Awi Tuman said.
The 47-year-old began his career as a photographer for a wedding organizer. “I took photos throughout Nantou, and observed the gradual loss of elders with face tattoos, as well as the increased mixture of people of different ethnicities.”
From this experience, Awi Tumun decided he would try to preserve the Seediq tradition. He visited elders to learn the tribe’s sagas, arts and crafts, such as weaving and rattan ware making. Having also tried painting, stone sculpting and pottery making, Awi Tumun resorted to leather around 10 years ago.
Some of his works are for decoration, but most of them are for use, such as pocketbooks, stationary, wallets and handbags. They feature aboriginal totems or images of tribal people. The carved lines and warm colors appear to be conveying a message to onlookers.
In one portrait, a somewhat disproportionally enlarged bamboo earring on a man in profile attracts the viewer’s attention.
“Bamboo means the land,” he said. “In the course of their migration, our ancestors used bamboo to carry millet seeds, which they would spread on the ground to test its fertility, to help them decide whether to settle down there.”
Only after having learned of the customs of the Seediq can one really appreciate his leather sculpting, according to Awi Tumun. “I want my works to first tell a story about the culture before they are seen as a commodity.”
Awi Tumun believes leather is the proper means for him to reach the market. “I can apply my ability in sculpting and painting,” he said. “And the end product is durable and lightweight, and has a trendy feel.”
Married to a Paiwan wife, Awi Tumun also incorporates cross-cultural elements into his works. He sometimes produces leather work inscribed with totems of other tribes. “Creativity makes sense here only when you approach the elements with respect and proper knowledge of their underlying cultural meaning.”
Unlike Lidu Lumu’s products, the only place to buy the works of Awi Tumun is at his atelier. Its name, Alan Sapah Meepah, means “your home in the tribe.”
Customers interested in his works must go visit the village. The reason for this, he said, is to encourage prospective buyers to acquire firsthand knowledge of the work’s origins. “You will find out that it’s here you get the unique Seediq culture and its best elements,” he said.
Both artists believe in innovation to create market opportunities and a lively community economy, yet their greater concern is the sustainability of the indigenous heritage.
Lidu Lumu is worried less about factory-made copies taking the place of her popular leather-textile shoulder bags than the disappearance of the hand-weaving tradition.
“I have taught younger women the techniques, but my students, unable to sustain the hardships and rigors, have dropped out of class,” she said. Now she is thinking about proposing collaboration projects with vocational schools.
Awi Tumun would like his studio to play an educational role. The studio has become a place where village children like to drop by and play around, acquiring knowledge about their own culture through his works, he said.
“In the past, the tribal village was like our school, where we learned our customs and language from elders. But it is not so for today’s children, who receive a compulsory modern education,” Awi Tumun said.
“I hope the studio and our works will make our culture more accessible to them, so that the culture does not become something that can be found only in museums.” (HZW)
Write to June Tsai at june@mail.gio.gov.tw