“Tiger” highlights an Indigenous award-winning, internationally acclaimed artist and elder, Dana Tiger, her family, and the resurgence of the iconic Tiger t-shirt company. Directors Statement Dana Tiger is one of the happiest people you will ever meet. Our souls vibrantly crossed paths a few years ago, but it also could have been lifetimes ago. I saw myself in her paintings and was drawn to her caring energy. This film beautifully unfolded like how light travels. Quickly, intentionally, brightly, and shockingly. Dana’s story leaves you hanging on to every word. She takes you through deep loss and tragedy, but also great joy of her family’s history. There is no family like the Tiger family and what they have done for the art world. It’s an immense honor for me to bring this story to life.

Seven Women Ride in Stressful Times was painted after the death of my grandma, depicting the ones left behind who ride seperately in chaos and turmoil, love and some clarity, bound by eternal power.

Daughter and grandson drawn with charcoal from my own fire.

In A Spider's Gift, a spider weaves a basket to carry light to the people, illuminating the path for growth and offering a new perspective on the natural world. The light shines upon a community of Indian Blanket wildflowers, each unique, representing the diverse personalities of a collective. A face appears, embodying the eyes of future generations but with the epigenetic inheritance of generations past. If the layers of beads and paint were stripped away, a deeper relationship emerges between the ancient symbols of our ancestors, the celestial signs above, and the new symbols we create from our illuminated natural world. Binary code, in the background and the spider’s path, translates to Mvskoke language: "Momen hvyayvket yomuckofvn hvyayakes; momen yomuckatet kerrekates" and "Cane 1:5." In English this translates to 'The light shines in the darkness; and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5."

This beaded bag depicts the relationship between the Tatanka Oyate (Buffalo Nation) & the Oceti Sakowin (People of the Seven Council Fires), commonly Known as the Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota people. The title “Provides for the People” honors the sacrifice of the Buffalo Nation to feed, cloth, & house the people. They are highly sacred beings that are represented in nearly all aspects of the Oceti Sakowin way of life. The hunter is also depicted as a provider for the people. Traditionally, hunters were highly revered and would bring great honor and pride due to how well they could hunt for their communities.

In honor of all our grandmas, our Matriarchs, who carried star knowledge across generations. The sky was our map, our teacher, and held our story. This piece is a remembrance of that wisdom and a promise to carry it forward to our future generations. We must remember that our connection to the land, the sky, and our stories is unbroken.

Nashoba means Wolf in the Choctaw language, and depicts a creature and relative that operates on instinct to survive and protect, while affectionate and loyal to it’s pack. This painting is for anyone who needs a protector to stand guard and keep watch, or provide a shield of empathy from negativity. She stands above and sees. This painting was made without a plan but with the thought that a protector was needed and became Nashoba.

The various traditional Seminole patchwork designs within this piece honor a style that was created out of necessity during our forced removal from Florida to Oklahoma. The utilization of remnants signify the resilience that is everlasting amongst the Seminole people and illustrates how we continue to prosper within modern day.

In Indigenous communities it only takes three generations to lose culture, language, and identity due to forced assimilation and the trauma that follows. I am changing that narrative. I understand the influence of my role as a queer matriarch and by passing on my traditional knowledge I want to focus on healing that intergenerational cycle by not passing on my ancestral wounds to my children. It has taken three generations from my grandma to my mother then to me, for me to begin to recognize and face the intergenerational trauma that has haunted my family since our removal to Oklahoma in the 1840s. The battered squash forms represent my wounded matriarchal lineage, personifying the slow cycle of destruction and covering up of ancestral wounds that get passed down. The squash at the bottom of the cycle represents myself, the vessel is standing tall and confronting this flooding of generational wounds that has been passed down, but I am refusing to pass on. The distressed cotton fiber is dyed with beets and red onion skins to represent bloodied wounds and a physical manifestation of trauma. The hue isn’t stable, meaning it will fade from a red blush into a warm magenta then finally after a few weeks into a soft sandy hue. This fading process of the fiber mirrors the subtle ways the body heals itself.

In Mvskoke, Ecke means Mother, I express this role by using a vessel that consists of three parts based in explorations of my journey as a queer parent and knowledge I am passing on to my children rooted in unconditional love. The top is a squash blossom which symbolizes the womb, myself, and the literal blooming of something new. By combining corn and squash, two of the three sisters, I want to honor the importance of unconditional nourishment, much like the love of a mother. The central body consists of multicolored kernels that represents my lived experiences and multiracial lineage. Each row of corn consists of eight kernels, a nod to the eight generations my family has been in Oklahoma post-removal from our ancestral homelands. Some kernels are cracked and dented with glaze running over them as if to mend the scars on the surface from centuries of generational trauma. The blending together of colors reminds me of the physical ways knowledge is passed down as its own heirloom, that slowly morphs into something new the more it gets passed on and shared. At the bottom of the husks, despite having a fractured foundation, the tips of the husks are in bloom represented by the threads extending towards the ground like seeds taking root as I pass on my own heirlooms to my children.

I use the squash motif to represent me and my children who are connected by our first braid in life, the umbilical cord. The pomegranate is not only a symbol of fertility but also a representation of my partner who is Armenian. The twenty fallen pomegranate seeds at the bottom of the squash forms represent the age I became a parent. The sun burst behind the pomegranate is radiating love as well as a playful spin on the divinity symbol in western paintings used to highlight important figures.

In Mvskoke, Lanē is the color for yellow, green, and brown, it represents the growing season and passage of time throughout the seasons. The beginning of the growing season is celebrated by the sprouting of tafvmpuce (wild green onions), which is when nature wakes up and blooms green during the spring. As the season changes to summer and fall, nature begins to turn yellow, and when winter arrives nature goes to sleep and appears brown, until the cycle repeats into the next growing season. Lanē is a poetic representation of Mvskoke cosmology and our connection with the land. Here the Mvskoke knot frames the moment I passed on the ancestral knowledge of foraging to my children, highlighting the importance of the tafvmpuce, at the beginning of the growing season.

Seed Protectors are Beautiful Seed carriers hand crafted from harvested materials like deer hide and Shell, which when we hunt we use every part of the animal, it’s use is in reverence to the animal. Giving these animals an important new purpose after life. The shell is given and adorned by members of my communities in the Southeast as a show of Gratitude, Honor and Beauty. The Brass is hand formed by a hammer giving it a beautiful texture as its made with intention. The hardness of this outer layer gives added protection for the seeds. This is all to protect that which nourishes our communities, seeds that have been cultivated for centuries. Worn to remember, cherish and protect what our people have sown.

‘Squash Blossom’: Modern design of a Squash Blossom Diné necklace with a contrasting abstract background of squash blossom flowers. The juxtaposition of modern Indigenous jewelry and traditional food ways within an old world technique of printing onto paper. Beauty unfolds.

Generational Voices pays homage to Joan Hill's "Women's Voices at the Council", reimagining the powerful legacy of Mvskoke Women who have long shaped the tribe's social, political and cultural landscape. This piece is a tribute to the strength, wisdom and resilience that Mvskoke Women bring to their communities. A reminder of the integral role of Women in tribal governance.

Hand-painted wooden shapes overlaid with strips of colored cardstock resembling ribbons, then encircled with cardstock trim. Each earring set carries a message typed on a typewriter and decoupaged onto the backs. "Hokte" means woman in the Mvskoke language, and the three earring sets represent Grandmother, Mother, and Daughter. The phrase "sew the seeds" is a play on words referencing the act of crafting clothes and accessories that reflect Native culture. For generations, Native people were unable to wear outward reflections of their cultures as assimilation practices were forced upon them. The title phrase also references the practice of some Native women sewing Ancestral Seeds into the hems of their skirts during forced removal from their Homelands so they would have plants with which to start again. These skirt earrings are small reminders that no matter where the wearer goes, they can be carriers and nurturers of their culture. The earrings float over a collaged river that is representative of the numerous and important waterways the Mvskoke people thrived near in the Ancestral Homelands. There are breaks in the river separating the sets of skirts, reflecting the breaks in traditions between generations due to attempted genocide and censorship of Native languages, dances, and traditions. Yet, the river continues, ever-flowing, representing reclamation and resilience.

The Alchemist is a mixed-media portrait of an Indigenous woman standing at the threshold between past and future. With the sunset at her back, she faces east- toward beginnings, continuity, and what is yet to come. She is adorned with traditional jewelry made from cedar berries I harvested and transformed into ghost beads, combined with turquoise and shell accents. Each material carries memory, land, and labor. She wears traditional beadwork not as nostalgia, but as presence- embodying a modern Indigenous human being who holds ground for culture and representation. Her stance is rooted and intentional, reclaiming visibility and identity that Indigenous people were once stripped of.

Contemporary spin on a traditional southeastern beaded collar.

This work is a study between me and my great, great, great grandmother Minnie, who would later be the first Matriarch of my family after being displaced to Oklahoma. I wanted to see how different we look as many generations have passed between her and I, as well as find our similarities that continued on from her strength and love. Her pose was taken from an old photograph of her and her older sister, and by placing myself in a similar sitting position next to her, it shows the resilience of my family and how we continue to be here long after she has been gone. And though I have never met her, this piece connects us both on a physical and a spiritual plane.

A Poem and Photo Collage. A Poem from a series that I am creating, called Remembering the Storms. A collection inspired by the May Tornadoes in Northern Oklahoma. We drove into the Storm. We drove South into the Path. Buffalo Ways. Not running away. Seeking shelter. South. Through the Rains. Through the Wind. Through the Hail. And the Darkness. Through the Storm. We will tell Her, My GrandDaughter The Story. The Story of that Spring. Buffalo Ladies. Women of the Water.

Created in response to a historic gathering in 2023, this work commemorates the celebration of the Maria Tallchief quarter and the unveiling and rededication of the Marjorie Tallchief bronze statue in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The events were held in partnership with the Osage Nation, the United States Mint, the Smithsonian American Women’s History Museum, and the Tulsa Historical Society, and brought together artists, cultural leaders, and descendants connected to the Tallchief legacy. Attendees included Misty Copeland, former principal dancer of American Ballet Theatre; Elise Paschen, renowned poet and daughter of Maria Tallchief; former U.S. Treasurer Marilyn Malerba; and Osage Nation citizen Cali Martin, Head of Collections Care and Stewardship at the National Museum of the American Indian. In honor of this moment, F. Dana Bear was commissioned by Dance Maker Academy to create a piece for Misty Copeland. The original work consisted of skin-toned pointe shoes adorned with beadwork inspired by traditional Osage women’s moccasin designs, bridging classical ballet with Osage cultural expression. The piece featured in this exhibition is a recreation of that commission. It honors Maria Tallchief, Bear’s great-aunt, and reflects an intergenerational lineage of Osage artistry, movement, and cultural continuity, where dance, adornment, and identity converge.

This textile display shows what would have been traditionally worn in the 1700's by Southeastern Native women.

This garment was inspired by Vine Deloria Jr.’s concept of the “Indian-grandmother complex,” referenced by Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang in “Decolonization is Not a Metaphor” as a form of settler nativism. The term describes the common settler claim of distant Indigenous ancestry, often a “princess,” used to distance oneself from the realities of settler colonialism while continuing to benefit from occupying stolen land. The full garment reflects the ongoing impacts of colonization, including unhonored treaties, land allotment, and the regulation and hypersexualization of Indigenous bodies. A velvet ribbon belt reads “PUHOCEFKV COKVN OHSAKTES,” a Mvskoke phrase meaning “we signed our names on the papers.” The sash is constructed from cream- colored sateen and features handwritten excerpts from the Muscogee Nation’s amicus brief and Justice Neil Gorsuch’s majority opinion in McGirt v. Oklahoma (2020), a landmark decision affirming that much of eastern Oklahoma remains Native land for purposes of federal criminal jurisdiction. The reimagined ribbon skirt incorporates patchwork squares inspired by allotment maps. Its construction employs jogakbo, a Korean patchwork technique, while also nodding to Seminole patchwork traditions. Chain detailing on the bloomers, in conjunction with the corseted bodice, references the ways colonial systems have historically sought to regulate, confine, and control Indigenous bodies, particularly the bodies of Indigenous women. Sheer fabric throughout the garment reflects tensions between stewardship and ownership of land, evoking the thinly veiled language of colonial governance and the many treaties and promises made to Indigenous nations that remain unfulfilled. This work is both a love letter to my community and a celebration of Indigenous sovereignty.

Made from a placemat my family and I ate many meals on over the years, this work transforms an object associated with nourishment, home, and comfort into a site of enforced silence. Hand-twisted barbed wire frames the placemat while velvet lips are sewn shut at its center. The stamped phrase reads: “Closed mouths don’t get fed but how do you eat when your mouth is wired shut by the hands of oppression?” This piece reflects on the contradiction faced by marginalized communities who are expected to advocate for themselves while systems of power simultaneously deny them the ability to speak. “Wired Shut” draws on Frantz Fanon’s analysis of colonial violence in The Wretched of the Earth and Michelle Alexander’s argument in The New Jim Crow that racial caste in the United States has not disappeared but has instead been redesigned. Through the juxtaposition of a domestic object with imagery of confinement and bodily restriction, the piece reflects on how oppression operates both visibly and invisibly; felt and recognized by those who endure it, yet often denied or dismissed by those who benefit from it. Systems that silence marginalized communities frequently place responsibility for survival back onto those they have constrained, asking why people cannot simply “help themselves” while ignoring the structures that have already wired their mouths shut.