Marlon Magdalena, an artist, educator and performer from Jemez Pueblo, appeared at Aztec Ruins in the Great Kiva Saturday. He discussed and demonstrated a wide array of Native instruments, most of which he made.
Marlon Magdalena’s Jemez name, Ælu'æki, translates to “Young Elk.”
Magdalena said that taking photos and recording performance is usually not allowed in Kivas because of their sacredness and because ceremonies only belong at “that certain point in time.”
Magdalena said that since there had not been a cleansing or purification ceremony at the Great Kiva, photography could be allowed.
Growing up in the Jemez Pueblo, Magdalena said, his father would always sing to them. He sang the Hopi Harvest song that he learned 30 years ago. The words described the Hopi spirits coming from Hopiland in Arizona and, arriving in Jemez, bringing the rain.
“Singing is still a large part of my life,” Magdalena said. He said he had modified several flutes and other instruments for his own use. He demonstrated the use of a simple drum made in a style which likely preceded a wood or leather drum. It was made from a piece of deer or elk leather wrapped around a folded tablecloth, then bound by rope.
Early on, Magdalena learned how important it was to train the voice by singing from his diaphragm in a “big round voice.” Singing, not from the throat, but “from the guts,” is the key to projecting the sounds and preventing losing the voice from injury or tiring.
“You have to be really fit,” Magdalena said about dance performances that can last for hours.
He said they usually had about one week to learn a song before a ceremony. He created some of his own Hopi dance songs performed at traditional feast days.
Some songs are long and complicated, while others are simple and may incorporate older songs. Magdalena played the drum and sang a song about “spirits coming out of one of their sacred mountains,” Redondo Peak in the Jemez Mountains. Beautifully-dressed spirits arrive in the village when it’s raining, he said.
Every song tells a story – often about fields or rain – and they come in two parts, Magdalena said.
Singing outside is very different from singing outdoors, Magdalena said, explaining the subtlety of projecting the voice when standing or sitting.
He said learning proper breathing while singing and dancing is the key to gaining endurance. He performed a Buffalo Dance song he wrote, which is typically sung to welcome and say goodbye to people at a feast day celebration.
A large gourd, carved out to act as an amplifier, was placed under the simple padded leather drum by Magdalena. It increased the volume in the historical space.
A small, grooved wooden instrument called a rasp produced sound when stroked with a wooden stick – simulating the sound of grinding corn, Magdalena said. The men used this to celebrate the women who performed this task to prepare food for the family.
He played the rasp, gradually increasing the speed and volume, as he sang a Gourd Dance song.
Magdalena said all instruments are “inanimate objects until you start using them.” We animate them when we play them and begin dancing, he said. At one point they were all living, as plants, trees – even sea and turtle shells.
“The drum has it’s own life … the beats that we give it become the heart beat of the song,” Magdalena said.
He said a lot of songs are about water because it’s so vital for growing crops and farming. “Even the winter songs, when we talk about the snow,” Magdalena said.
Shells come from places of abundant water, as do parrot feathers, which come from jungles and rain forests. “We’re using these things in hopes of bringing that moisture they represent,” Magdalena said.
Picking up a large conch shell with a hole to allow playing it like a trumpet, Magdalena said he was lucky to find his Queen’s Helmet Conch at a flea market in Albuquerque.
Magdalena blew into the conch, producing a foghorn-type sound. He said it was used by the Aztecs to begin a ceremony or to call spirits.
Magdalena showed a turtle shell rattle with attached deer hoofs, worn by dancers to represent raindrops hitting the ground.
Discussing the role of a dancer, he said “When we go out into the plaza to dance, we are not ourselves … we become these spirits” like actors in a play, he said. “When I perform I’m giving life back into these beings.”
As a young boy, he fell in love with the sound of a flute, even before seeing one. He has spent years playing and studying their history.
Magdalena said flutes were once considered a valuable asset and used for trading. Some have been found that date back to the 600s. Last month, he visited the University of Arizona at Yuma and saw flutes found in archaeological sites, including one found at Pueblo Bonito, Room 33, that date to the 850s.
Magdalena demonstrated two flute playing techniques, oblique (side) and interdental, using both four- and six-hole flutes.
Bird bones, being hollow, were used to make flutes. Magdalena said archaeologists found eagle bone flutes in the 1930s when they excavated in Pecos Pueblo.
Eagle parts, including bones, feathers and claws, can be ordered by Native Americans to be used for religious purposes. He made his first eagle bone flutes in 2013, by utilizing traditional resin glue, made by mixing piñon sap with ashes or charcoal. The glue is then applied to the inside of the bone and heated.
Some whistles are made to mimic sounds, such as songbirds, while others are used for calling in prey for hunting. He demonstrated whistles made from bald and golden eagle bones and from turkey bones.
When asked to play a full song on the flute, Magdalena played a melodic tune called “Spirit Path.” Songbirds sang along through the open Kiva windows.
Magdalena said their tradition after a performance, prayer or speech, is to open arms and hands, bringing them toward the heart, and to “breathe it in so it comes inside – into our hearts and our memories.”
Tradition also includes leaving an offering, such as cornmeal, corn pollen or turkey feathers. “Then it’s up to the spirits to do as they wish,” Magdalena said.
