Carrying Knowledge Through Change
By Jeron Joseph, Anguterayak
Storyknife, September/October 2026 edition
For Alaska Natives, it wasn’t too many generations ago that knowing how to sew fur or skins to protect the body was a mandate of survival. Or knowing how to weave grass, sew fabric, or tan skins. As the world moves forward, and values shift from survival to self-actualization, we carry some skills into modernity while letting others fall by the wayside. Our ancestors’ knowledge becomes increasingly niche, specialized, or practiced as a hobby, not for survival.
The world once held the cards for our survival, and Alaska Natives responded by crafting facets of the world (fur, grass, fish skin, etc.) to adapt to it. Modernity and progress changed the dynamic, and as man became increasingly influential in the outcome of survival, the value of this knowledge changed. It is no longer about how we survive, but how we can climb higher, and gain more security. I thought about this while I was at the Anchorage Museum, examining the grass and fish-skin parkas my late grandmother Lena Kayungiar Atti made by hand. Can modernity exist in the same space as this knowledge?
My experience has been that the brain has only so much working capacity, and what it chooses is important. If I were not working towards the promises of the modern world, would I be wearing a fur or grass parka right now, filling a grass basket with greens or berries?
As Alaska Natives, we do our best to balance modernity with heritage. We work during the day, go home, watch TV, go on the internet, make dinner, and do chores. Other times we go fishing, pick berries, process game, and if we have the incentive, perform crafts that represent the pride of Native ingenuity. Beaded earrings, qaspeqs, nasqerruns, etc. I wish I had paid closer attention to my grandmother while she was weaving grass or sewing qaspeqs; her generation was one who advocated learning by watching.
Having gone through the difficult experience of the storm of October 2025, I was one of many who had a sudden crisis of identity, knowledge, and values. Going from a system that values tradition, seasonal adaptation, and knowledge, to one that values perpetual movement, hustle, and growth had me reevaluate my relationship with my heritage.
I was very lucky to come across a few who restored my faith in preserving my heritage. These folks are instructors, craftsmen, or Elders offering instruction. People who, in my view, won the lottery of balancing modernity with heritage. I stand in awe of these individuals, who not only hold and maintain tradition, but found a way to carry it through the modern world, and pass it on to new generations, who I hope may also strike that balance.
I feel my own faith restoring when I act on the curiosity to learn to bead earrings, sew fabrics including qaspeqs, or make nasqerruns, all of which required instruction from someone more knowledgeable. Perhaps one day I may learn how to weave beach grass or sew a parka.
All of this is to say that this knowledge is precious and sacred, and maintaining and passing it down has been precarious for some time. I have heard generations before my own say that they wished they paid closer attention to their parents while they were doing crafts. This knowledge has a chance to be preserved, given the opportunity, resources, and the curiosity of individuals (including me) who wish to maintain it for generations to come.
SACRED GROUND EXHIBIT AT ANCHORAGE MUSEUM
Exhibit on View Through October 4
Jeron Joseph is a photographer, writer and composer from Kwigillingok who evacuated to Anchorage in the aftermath of Typhoon Halong and has been adapting to city life ever since. His photography exhibit at the Anchorage Museum documents changes in the seasons, light, and cycles of plant life, and mostly contains scenes from Kwigillingok before Typhoon Halong. He hopes the exhibit offers a sense of home that he and his fellow evacuees are missing.