By Brian Sanford
August 15, 2025
When Eugene Tapahe (Diné) photographed his daughters and two of their friends posing while wearing Ojibwe jingle dresses at Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, the purpose was to provide healing during a tumultuous time, not to create art.
It was June 2020, and the world was reeling from the new realities of the pandemic’s social distancing, widespread masking, and living with the pre-vaccine terror that a friendly interpersonal encounter could be deadly. An aunt of Tapahe’s died from COVID-19; amid that emotional trauma, he dreamed he was sitting in a grass field at Yellowstone National Park, gazing at a herd of bison on the horizon. He detected a distinctive sound, then realized it was coming from jingle dress dancers who’d begun dancing with the bison. A sensation rose within Tapahe that most people don’t associate with 2020: hope.
The healing Ojibwe jingle dress dance is thought to have originated during the 1918 influenza pandemic, so its powers resonated especially strong during a remarkably similar calamity about a century later. What began with a 150-mile drive from the Tapahe family’s Provo, Utah, home to the salt flats grew into a nationwide healing journey to national parks and even New York City. Some of the results of that ongoing voyage are featured in Art Heals: The Jingle Dress Project, an exhibition at Monroe Gallery of Photography coinciding with Santa Fe Indian Market, where Tapahe is also bringing his work.
Tapahe traveled with his wife, Sharon; twentysomething daughters Erin and Dion; and the daughters’ friends Sunni and JoAnni Begay. The latter four posed in the vibrantly colored dresses while wearing matching red face masks, their arms raised in unity, at Monument Valley for Solidarity, Sisterhood; on a rock with their backs to the Pacific Ocean on the Oregon coast in Warrior Women; and at the base of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., for Forever Enshrined. Some of the images are black-and-white, while others feature only three of the women.
Tapahe, a native of Window Rock, Arizona, who holds a Master of Fine Art degree in studio art from Brigham Young University in Provo, recently chatted with Pasatiempo about the spookiness of traversing what amounted to a ghost nation in 2020, combating cultural ignorance, and the pandemic’s effects on both his psyche and his bottom line. His answers have been edited for length and clarity.
Do you always have such vivid, memorable dreams?
Many artists do sketches or preliminary work, but I conceptualize a lot of my works before I start doing art. I think it was a unique situation in that, even when I woke from the dream, it was still resonating with me. It really touched me and affected me to the point where I gave it life by sharing it with my wife and my daughters. The idea [at first] wasn’t to take it to the world; I just wanted to do one dance in a sacred place, to make the dream true.
But when we went out to the Bonneville Salt Flats — which is close to us — and the girls danced, that changed our whole perspective. We were the only people on the land, and there wasn’t a dry eye the whole time. The girls said they knew they weren’t dancing alone; they could feel the spirits of the ancestors of that land dancing with them spiritually. When the dance was over, Dion said, “Dad, we’ve got to take this to the land. We can’t just do it one time.” I said, “In my dream, I was at Yellowstone National Park, so let’s go to national and state parks.” Because those lands were colonized first — taken from the Native people — if we heal those lands and ancestors, they will come and help us heal during COVID.
You mention healing, and people suffered in numerous ways during the pandemic. How were you affected?
My family and I couldn’t go home to help our people and family, so it was difficult to see from afar the pain and death. Because of this, we felt it was important to go on this healing journey so that we could bring healing and unity through art.
Had you already visited all of the places featured in Art Heals: The Jingle Dress Project?
At some points, it was the first time we’d ever been there. In many places, it was really tough because we didn’t spend weeks there; I knew as a landscape photographer that early mornings and late evenings were the best times to take photos and for the girls to perform the jingle dress dance, since the natural light would be better. During the days, we traveled and the girls did their homework, because at the time everything was online.
This project began in 2020; what years does it cover?
It started in June 2020 and continues to this day. We are being invited to universities and colleges to speak and serve on panels. This has given us a great platform to [bring attention to] not just the project, but also to address Native issues, such as missing and murdered Indigenous women, Native rights, Native lands, and land acknowledgement.
How did Sunni and JoAnni get involved?
They’re good friends with Erin and Dion. We’re all Navajo, and during COVID, the Navajo Nation shut down and closed their borders, so we couldn’t go home to help or be with our family members. They were already in quarantine here in Utah with our family, and that’s how we managed to do what we did.
The world had largely shut down.
We kept to ourselves; all restaurant dining areas were closed, so we either packed our own food or ordered takeout. We only entered public spaces to get gas and use the restrooms, but we remained very cautious because none of us wanted to get sick. At that time, there were no vaccinations available. When we visited Yosemite National Park, the six of us and two rangers were the only people there. It was a deeply spiritual moment — yet also surreal and eerie. It was late June, and the rangers told us that normally, they wouldn’t have any available camping spots, and the park would usually be filled with thousands of visitors.
How did you get into the park?
At Yosemite National Park, the rangers happened to be Natives [Miwok] from that land, and they already knew who we were. So, when we reached the guard gate, they understood that our purpose was spiritual and healing, and they allowed us to enter. The girls danced at the Indian village, and afterward, the rangers wanted to give them a gift. They shared their popsicles, which were so refreshing on that hot day in June.
Did you have issues accessing other locations?
The only place we thought we might have trouble was Yosemite National Park, because there are only a couple of entrances, but we were fortunate that the rangers there knew what we were doing and understood our purpose. Most of the other parks didn’t have anyone at the entrances because of COVID.
One of your images features the since-closed Nicholas Galanin exhibition Never Forget, consisting of 45-foot letters spelling out “Indian Land” in Palm Springs, California, which was featured in Galanin’s SITE Santa Fe exhibition Interference Patterns. Did Galanin (Tlingit-Unangax) know about your visit?
The organization, Desert X, has a biennial art installation in Palm Springs. We wanted to go there to dance and do a photo session. I reached out to them to let them know we would be coming. They responded on the day of our trip and said they were working on getting Nicholas to fly out the next day to meet us. They also managed to get Congressman Raul Ruiz from Palm Springs to come, and we had an impromptu get-together with Galanin. The ceremony opened with a local Native community performance featuring a traditional Cahuilla bird song by John Preckwinkle III. It was a spiritual moment.
How much do the dresses weigh?
Between 8 and 12 pounds.
You encountered ignorance about Native people during your travels. That likely wouldn’t happen in New Mexico; where did it occur?
Mostly in urban areas; it occurred a few times on the East Coast. When we talked at universities, some people said, “I didn’t know that Native Americans still existed,” or, “Do you still live in teepees?” That’s still out there. It’s still common.
That sounds infuriating. How did you respond?
Our project is both healing and educational. When I was younger, I would have gotten angry, but now I realize they’re not saying it out of racism. Especially on the East Coast, that’s all they learned. In high school, the textbooks focused on Plains Indians, and they learned that Native Americans all lived in teepees, rode horses, lost battles, and were eventually wiped out.
It sounds like this show would be even more educational if it were featured in other areas of the U.S. Do you know if it will become a traveling exhibition?
I really don’t, but that’s exactly why I documented the project: the educational purpose behind it is important. It needs to be shared; it’s healing for everyone.
What are you showing at Indian Market this year?
A few images from [Art Heals: The Jingle Dress Project] will be in my booth, as well as landscapes and a lot of wildlife photography.
You’ve mentioned that the number 4 is considered sacred in Navajo culture. How did it manifest in this project?
We have four girls who represent the four worlds; in Navajo culture, we believe we’re in the fourth world. In the Four Worlds photo, there are four peaks on the Teton National Park mountains. During our photo session, the girls were facing me, and my daughter Dion set up the shot and poses. It turned out that they were almost in the same spots as the peaks on the mountains behind them. When we were ready to start printing the photos, that’s when we all saw it. It’s incredible how this project brought so much healing to us and to those who can see the images now. Art truly heals.
details
The Jingle Dress Project
Through September 14
Monroe Gallery of Photography
112 Don Gaspar Avenue
505-992-0800; monroegallery.com
