Planting the Seeds of Indigenous Fashion: In conversation with Amber-Dawn Bear Robe and Dr. Lara Evans
Sovereignty Style is a series highlighting Indigenous artists and designers using fashion to express themselves, their cultures, and their stories on their own terms. Curated by transdiciplinary artist and curator Feather Miigwans, the posts in this series celebrate the creativity and expansiveness of Indigenous Fashion.
Amber-Dawn Bear Robe (Siksika Nation) and Lara M. Evans, PhD. (Cherokee Nation), know a thing or two about Indigenous fashion of Turtle Island. Bear Robe, with a master’s degree in art history and Native American studies, is an independent curator who’s been working on Indigenous fashion shows since 2012. Bear Robe has curated many exhibitions of Native and First Nations fashion arts for museums in the United States and Canada. A few highlights include: Future Imaginaries: Indigenous Art, Science & Fashion (The Autry Museum, Los Angeles, CA, Sept 2024 – June 2026), Fashion Fictions (Vancouver Art Gallery, Vancouver, BC, May–Oct 2023), Art of Indigenous Fashion (IAIA’s Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, Santa Fe, NM, Aug 2022), and the forthcoming Indigenous Fashion exhibition for the Textile Museum of Canada opening in 2026. Dr. Evans is an art historian and independent curator specializing in contemporary Native American art and who is an enthusiastic fan of Indigenous fashion. Both Bear Robe and Evans live in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they met up to talk all things Indigenous fashion.
Left: Amber-Dawn Bear Robe and her dog, Vegas. Amber-Dawn wears a jacket by TOC Legends by Himkalas and rings by Cody Sanderson. Right: Dr. Lara Evans. Photos by Tira Howard.
Lara Evans: What was the Native fashion scene like when you first started producing fashion shows about 13 years ago?
Amber-Dawn Bear Robe: It was just extremely small and on a micro level in Santa Fe. For example, there were guerilla-style fashion shows. A market or a group of students were putting on small shows. People were interested, but definitely not on the level that you see now. In Canada, it was also extremely small and really not in people’s consciousness. There were definitely people who had been working in the field for decades such as Dorothy Grant, and Pamela Baker, but as a collective event, fashion shows were very few and far between, except for when you look at certain regions, such as Santa Fe through the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA , a tribal college) and student-led fashion shows. But in Canada at that time, I can’t even think of any, because Canada didn’t have a place such as IAIA in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s to create that foundation.
Lara: You are an art curator and a curator of fashion shows. What are the differences that you see between curating fashion exhibitions for a museum and curating fashion shows?
Amber-Dawn: Curating fashion shows – I really do see it as an extension of being an art curator, because being an art curator also includes events and programming, requires working with artists, other curators, museum staff, professionals, etc. The difference is that it’s directly interactive. That’s the thing with curating fashion shows – my finger has to be on the pulse at that moment, that fleeting moment, whereas when you’re doing visual art exhibitions you are working with materials that are in collections, or the work is commissioned for the exhibition. It is a much slower research process. Curating a fashion show is much more about living in the moment.
Indigenous fashion shows, and Indigenous fashion art exhibitions have a very particular and uniquely special practice that, I would say, does not exist within other fashion productions. Our designs have been framed as anthropological specimen or curiosity, rather than fashion. And so, there is this history that’s rooted specifically in Native North America that is really not been explored or understood, that is working itself out and is revealing itself through fashion shows. It’s such a unique space that we’re in, that is unique to who we are as Native Americans.
Lara: Generally, fashion shows are events hosted and controlled by a design house, so it’s very much a business venture, representing a singular vision. How are Indigenous fashion shows departing from that model?
Amber-Dawn: I’m working with multiple designers who represent different regions. I’m also working with designers who are doing everything from ready-to-wear, to couture, to performative and wearable art. I’m trying to bring together multiple stories from across the United States into one show. It really is curation because it’s putting these narratives together rather than representing one house or one designer. It brings together different voices, different stories, and different Native nations. It all has to form one cohesive show […] and it also must be entertaining and educational at the same time.
Lara: Back to 14 years ago, was there already a stable of designers with collections of looks ready to go? Were there experienced models, too?
Amber-Dawn: When I first started to do this, no, there were not a plethora of Native designers who had full collections, specifically in Santa Fe […] It was just one look here, a few looks there, some T-shirts and scarves or vintage garments. It wasn’t really a cohesive show at all. When you look at Native art history, contemporary Native art is very new to the academic discourse of art history. When you look at fashion studies, Indigenous fashion is brand-spanking baby-new to the discourse of fashion studies and fashion shows. That includes all of its components: models, designers, all of the support that goes into making a fashion show. The infrastructure to cater to Indigenous designers just did not exist – and it still doesn’t. It’s still building up.
My first fashion show in Santa Fe was with Jamie Okuma, Bethany Yellowtail, Orlando Dugi, and Sho Sho Esquiro and was produced for IAIA’s Museum of Contemporary Native Arts (MoCNA). It was Jamie Okuma’s and Orlando Dugi’s first fashion shows. We were in this together. And we have grown together as well. Twenty years from now, this might be seen as the beginning of a movement. I really hope that I am planting the seeds, because I want there to be fruition and actual change within the structural system in America, particularly. There’s definitely been change in Canada, but I hope that I am helping to plant golden seeds that will be fruitful in 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 years.
Lara: I think we are seeing some of those results already. There are many more Native fashion shows at many different scales, like very small community shows on reservations and also in urban Indian communities, and in New York and Las Vegas. And now there are a few famous Native fashion models, too.
Amber-Dawn: I definitely do see a lot of change over the past 13 years. I didn’t think it would get to this point where it is now where there’s so much interest in fashion. Over the past 13 years, there is a higher demand, higher interest, and you see fashion shows that are just sprouting across Canada and the United States. I myself, launched the first American Native fashion week in May of 2024, adding Santa Fe to the list of cities. Canada hosts Indigenous Fashion Weeks in cities like Vancouver and Toronto, with Canadian organizations benefiting from significantly greater access to funding through the Canada Council for Indigenous Arts and provincial grants. In contrast, such funding opportunities for Indigenous arts and fashion are not available in the United States.
As far as the models, Philip Bread is a great example. Nolan Hall is another example of a model who started with the Native fashion shows I produced and is now signed with a major agency. Anyways, we’re still in the budding stage of Indigenous fashion. We’re on this very ground level working with a great and growing Native fashion community that includes models.
Lara: I’m seeing clear connections across multiple domains. It’s not just fashion. There’s music and some of the models are actors in film and television.
Amber-Dawn: Yes, and thank you for saying that. And that, again, brings us back to this very unique situation. Indigenous art was never separated from who we are as living beings. America, really, separated art from life and turned it into something that you buy, you invest in; it’s this completely separate entity. Indigenous fashion is always tied to these other components: it includes dance, it includes performance, it includes story, it includes history, it includes the future! It encompasses so much more than that. And that’s really something that I try to highlight, to draw out all the complexities of Indigenous fashion. You see that on the runway. It’s exciting, and then it’s done.
Lara: What are some of the ingredients needed for successful Indigenous design houses, in addition to funding?
Amber-Dawn: Aside from the talent, skill and designer vision, finance, experience, relationships, community, PR and investment is needed. If I had a magic wand, an Indigenous design house would be a team of creators skilled in diverse trades of quill and bead work, moose tufting, dentalium shell designers, cedar and Chilkat weavers…the list is endless.
“Twenty years from now, this might be seen as the beginning of a movement. I really hope that I am planting the seeds, because I want there to be fruition and actual change within the structural system.”
—Amber-Dawn Bear Robe
Lara: As you’ve been working to grow Indigenous fashion infrastructure over the years, to what degree are you replicating the infrastructure and practices of the mainstream fashion industry?
Amber-Dawn: My vision in expanding the Indigenous fashion infrastructure is by building on the strengths of the diversity of Indigenous design languages of Indigenous designers while strategically engaging with elements of the mainstream fashion industry, meaning opening the doors for dialogue and partnerships with non-Native fashion communities. Rather than simply replicating existing systems, I aim to create a platform that reflects Indigenous values, such as community-centered approaches, storytelling, and cultural continuity.
Lara: Could you unpack a little about what you mean by Indigenous values, community-centered approaches, cultural continuity?
Amber-Dawn: Indigenous values are deeply personal, reflecting both the individual and the community the designer is connected to. While community-centered approaches may seem idealistic, I see them as vital. Building a strong network of designers and models is more than a one-time effort; it’s an investment in fostering collaboration and expanding the presence of Native fashion within the arts, design, and fashion industries.
Cultural continuity is unique to each designer, shaped by their creative muses and inspirations. These can range from familial connections and historical narratives to political movements and futuristic visions that inform their distinct design language.
Lara: So that brings up the topic of collaboration, what do you see are the things to look for?
Amber-Dawn: It comes down to long term commitment, not a quick fix, and taking the time and the money to invest in a long-term commitment, not one or two seasons. What’s needed is actually hiring somebody to be a part of the team, and to build that Indigenous voice and perspective within your team. […] That’s what a true commitment looks like. There needs to be a solid foundation of Indigenous perspective, voice and experience.
Lara: The Native artist collaborating with the brand is always at a disadvantage in that case. Here’s a question: Do fashion shows make a difference. What do you think that difference might be?
Amber-Dawn: This is a very American perspective. But America has the world’s ear. If I can get American Indigenous fashion shows to have the public exposure to reach the American audience in a grand scale, that will make a difference in terms of even getting one more percent of the population to understand that something exists beyond buckskin, beads, and leather. That’s how these fashion shows can make a difference. Somebody like Skawennati, you know, her models are wearing camouflage and holding protest signs. That’s way too political for some people. Even getting people to respond to that can make a difference.
Lara: Fashion does have a lot to do with social movements and protests. Is there anything that you want to talk about in relation to your work as a curator of fashion exhibitions in museums, as well as real-time fashion shows and public events?
Amber-Dawn: I’m always very careful to include designer/artists who have something political within their messaging. I don’t shy away from that. I think that’s important. For exhibitions or for the runway, whether the audience gets it or not, whether the audience hates it or likes it, fashion is political. If you’re in fashion studies, you already know fashion is political in nature. I’m always very conscious of bringing that to the platform of exhibition or runway. For the SWAIA Indigenous Fashion show in Santa Fe in August (2024), the programming included Kent Monkman in conversation with Jontay Kahm, which naturally included topics some people feel are political, about gender, history, colonization. I know this stems from my background as an art student and then my practice as a curator.
Lara: A lot of museums operate with a kind of preciousness about curatorial vision. Does that curatorial approach work for you in the context of Indigenous fashion shows?
Amber-Dawn: I’m not looking at what is the most beautiful, or what took the most time to [make], it really is about the story, the concept, the history, and person behind the design. And the concept behind the pieces may get overlooked by a non-Indigenous art curator when looking at Indigenous fashion. I stress the importance of looking beyond a surface pattern or design and construction. For example, I included a set in the MoCNA exhibition Future Echoes: Art of Indigenous Fashion from Lauren Good Day’s ready-to-wear dress beside her personal garment created for powwow and ceremony. Look at that design language that she created, which is specific to herself. It is not just generic squares, circles and geometric designs; it’s very specific to who she is and where she’s from. Her individuality is transferred to her ready-to-wear. Somebody who is not an Indigenous fashion curator could easily miss that. But that’s why curators have their niches, right? And Indigenous fashion curation is a very specific niche that is barely even recognized.
“Rather than simply replicating existing systems, I aim to create a platform that reflects Indigenous values, such as community-centered approaches, storytelling, and cultural continuity.“
—Amber-Dawn Bear Robe
Lara: What do you think are the things that go into the knowledge base of Indigenous designers that might be different from, say, a mainstream fashion designer? What are some of the differences in the cultural education that is expected from designers who are Indigenous?
Amber-Dawn: Indigenous designers are going to have their own approach depending on who they are, their family, their culture, and what region [they’re from]. That is so particular to what they’re bringing, and that’s what comes to fruition through their work. Versus when you go to a college to learn technical skills, such as, how to sew buttons, use a serger machine, how to do different types of pleating, how to make an invoice. I mean, all of that is so important, but the intellectual Indigenous knowledge can’t be taught in any institution, because that really does come through family history, culture, region, land and experience. But it’s still important to have that educational component too; they nurture and support one another.
Lara: In your work with Indigenous fashion designers, how do you navigate questions about who their work is for?
Amber-Dawn: I’m asked this quite a bit. “Well, what can I wear? What should I not?” A Native designer is releasing something to the public – it is meant to be worn by everybody. Don’t go to an antique store and buy somebody’s historic 1800 war shirt. That is problematic. Do not wear that. But a contemporary designer who’s making work that’s released to the public is making something meant to be worn by everybody. Someone, like, Lauren Good Day, again, when she’s making regalia for herself and her family, she’s not making that for the masses.
Everybody wears clothes. And then, you can hate what somebody’s wearing. You can be amused, or you can be curious. But what people are wearing is human engagement, it is an interaction. And I say that because during COVID, one thing that I couldn’t do was people watch, and I realize I love being in public at a cafe and just people watching. Because when you watch what people are wearing, you can make up stories, you can be critical, but it is something to connect you with other people.
Lara: That leads me to ask about personal style. Do you have any advice for somebody who’s searching for their own style?
Amber-Dawn: Start with “what do you like?” And that can really go down to what’s your favorite color? Or what is your just-one-thing? That is something that you resonate with, that makes you happy. Identify your preferences, create a mood board, experiment and try new things, understand your comfort and body, incorporate your personal heritage and seek inspiration by style icons or designers. For me, pink makes me happy, my closet is full of various shades of pink, from bold eyewear to fluffy pink jackets and pink head-to-toe. It makes me happy. One little thing, and then you build off that.
