When
Nancy Spada bought a
piece of Mata Ortiz
pottery at a Spokane
auction in 2000 she
didn’t know that
it was made by some
of the poorest
people in North
America.
She
just knew it was
high-quality
craftsmanship and
that she wanted
more. She searched
the Internet, found
the location of the
tiny village of Mata
Ortiz, Mexico, and
drove 2,000 miles in
her Subaru to buy
more pots.
She
found a village of
1,500 people, 300 of
them potters, who
fired their pots in
holes dug in the
ground with fires
fueled by cow dung.
She found artists
who were anxious,
almost desperate, to
sell their pottery.
Spada
bought a Subaru full
of pots, drove home,
sold the art to
friends—and in
doing so landed a
second career as a
Mexican folk art
importer, which she
does under a Hauser
Lake, Idaho,
business she co-owns
called Singing
Shaman Traders.
Domestic
and business partner
Roger Gee says that
Spada, a Coeur
d’Alene
psychotherapist who
specializes in
clients with eating
disorders, “has a
desire to help
people,” and that
desire is now
benefiting Mexican
craftspeople from
Mata Ortiz to Taxco,
another 2,000 miles
farther south.
“We
haven’t made any
money yet,” says
Gee. “We ought to
be a nonprofit.”
That
might change.
Spada,
50, plans to retire
from her 25-year-old
private
psychotherapy
practice in June and
work full time at
Singing Shaman. Gee,
62, has worked 30
years in
advertising, public
relations, reporting
and editing. He has
freelanced articles
for Rolling Stone,
Mother Earth News,
AP, and UPI, and was
a court and crime
reporter for
Spokane’s KXLY-TV
in the early 1990s,
he says. He now
works full time with
the small business.
With
extensive experience
in Mexico and able
to speak some
Spanish, Gee joined
the business in 2001
and convinced Spada
to broaden its
importing scope
beyond pottery. In
addition to pottery
from Mata Ortiz,
Singing Shaman now
imports beadwork and
yarn paintings from
the Puerto Vallarta
area; hand- woven
baskets from Creel;
silver products from
Taxco, Mexico’s
major silver
producing city; and
textiles from the
LaPaz area on the
Baja peninsula.
Goods
are sold to museums
and specialty import
stores, plus at
trade festivals and
invitation-only,
in-home parties.
Spada
and Gee make three
or four trips to
Mexico every year,
normally in March,
June, and September,
and last year in
December.
One
thing Spada
accomplished during
the infancy of the
business was to have
it become a member
of the Washington
D.C.-based Fair
Trade Federation,
which the couple say
is committed to
providing fair wages
and employment
opportunities to
low-income artisans
in Mexico. Singing
Shaman buys directly
from the artisans,
trying to eliminate
as many middlemen in
the process as
possible.
“The
potters and the
weavers set the
prices,” says Gee.
“We pay what they
ask and do not
barter.”
Because
of the 5,000 miles
of travel involved
in one round trip to
buy merchandise, Gee
says the March,
June, and September
trips are made to
Mata Ortiz and
Creel, (last
December’s trip
was the first annual
to LaPaz), and goods
from the company’s
southernmost sources
of Puerto Vallarta
and Taxco are
shipped to Singing
Shaman’s Hauser
Lake base from
buyers the venture
has in those two
cities.
The
small business
grossed just $50,000
in sales last year.
Last
week, Spada and Gee
set out for their
first Mexican trip
of 2005, in the
third van put into
service following
the Subaru’s
inaugural voyage.
One vehicle was
stolen in Mazatlan
in 2003, just one of
many tales the
couple have to tell
about their
adventures in
Mexico. For the
first time, they are
now towing a
5-by-8-foot trailer
that will enable
them to double the
amount of goods they
can bring back, says
Gee.
The
business caters to
middle-income buyers
with the cost of
pots ranging from $2
to a collector’s
gallery high of
about $400. “Our
average pots sell
for $30 to $70,”
says Gee.
Singing
Shaman sells to the
Museum Stores
Association, of
which the Seattle
Art Museum is one of
its biggest clients,
and to Fair Trade
Federation stores in
about 20 states.
The
business also set up
its 10-by-10-foot
sales tent at about
20 Northwest
festivals last
summer, but will do
fewer shows this
year. House parties,
much like Tupperware
parties, at which
eight to 15 people
come into a private
home for a slide
show, wine, cheese,
and crackers, will
become more and more
of a selling tool
this year, Gee says.
He says such
gatherings, which
generate a fair
number of sales,
also provide good
opportunities to
educate people about
the Fair Trade
Federation.
Mata
Ortiz is located at
an elevation of
8,000 feet and
became a major
pottery center
thanks to the
efforts of one man,
Juan Quezada, says
Gee. Quezada became
a world-class
potter, then
proceeded to share
his skills with
others in the
village.
Gee
says Juan Quezada
pots are
“literally worth
thousands of dollars
apiece,” but are
now in the hands of
collectors and
rarely are sold.
“You can look at
20 pages of Mata
Ortiz pottery on
eBay and not see one
Juan Quezada,”
says Gee. He says
Singing Shaman buys
pots annually made
by a niece and a
sister of the
storied pot maker,
though their pots
don’t approach the
same quality.
When
Spada and Gee drive
into the isolated
village, their van
is immediately
recognized, and pot
makers approach them
in droves. The
artists in Mata
Ortiz are so
desperate to make
sales that the
couple never gets
any peace, says Gee.
He says the two or
three days they
spend in the village
deciding which pots
they will buy are
“exhausting.”
They
next drive about 300
miles southeast to
Creel where, asserts
Gee, one of every
five Tarahumara
children die of
starvation. There
they buy hand-woven
baskets, and the
actions of the
residents are
totally different
than in Mata Ortiz.
Instead of
constantly crowding
around and politely
waiting to be
recognized, “the
Tarahumara sell by
indifference,”
says Gee.
Children
as young as 3 years
old peddle the
baskets while adults
stand back. A
tourist train runs
through Creel,
giving children an
opportunity, with
some help from their
mothers, to sell
baskets through the
train windows to
tourists who don’t
disembark. Once the
train moves on, says
Gee, he and Spada
buy all of the
remaining baskets
available for sale,
an average of 30 to
40, he says.
Other
baskets, drums, and
pieces of art are
purchased and
carried out manually
after the Singing
Shaman Traders hike
about two miles from
Creel to an even
more isolated
village.
While
traveling, Spada and
Gee routinely buy
bracelets and
trinkets from
children, what they
call “mercy
buys,” which are
rarely of a quality
for resale.
One
of the couple’s
biggest tribulations
came in 2001 when,
acting on “bad
advice,” they
drove 40 miles into
Copper Canyon, which
Gee says is a series
of five canyons
deeper and bigger
than the Grand
Canyon.
They
drove on a steep,
rough, one-lane road
with a sheer cliff
on one side and, at
times, a 6,000 foot
drop-off on the
other, says Gee.
“We had to pull in
the side mirrors to
make it,” he says.
On
the bottom, they
camped—and were
greeted that night
with a flash flood
that tore out much
of the road both in
front of and behind
them. The trip out
was slow, with
countless stops to
throw rocks out of
the way, he says.
The
future is looking
good for a business
now headquartered in
a home and small
shop, says Gee.
Orders are coming in
earlier this year
than ever before,
and many new
customers have found
the company on the
Internet, he says.
Singing
Shaman now contracts
for secretarial
services and for the
manufacture of
fleece bags used to
protect pottery on
the long drive back
from Mexico.
“We
hope to grow and
hire some more
support staff in the
future,” says
Spada.
When
the pair return from
their March buying
trip, they plan to
move their studio to
a 30-by-40-foot
metal building at
nearby Newman Lake
that they’ll use
as a packing
station, storage
area, office, and
show room.
