Contact us at: whispernthunder1@gmail.comAsh Basket Making
Lydia Soctomah
Basketmaking is a passion of mine, one
that was passed down to me by my late
grandmother, Molly Jeannette Parker.
Carrying this tradition forward is both an
honor and a responsibility. It is her legacy
that I continue to preserve and pass on
to future generations—a duty she took
very seriously and held close to her heart.
To understand the significance of this art
form, it is important to understand the history
of the people I come from.
I am a member of the Passamaquoddy Tribe, one of the five tribes that make up the Wabanaki Confederacy, whose name translates to “The People of the Dawn.” Our communities are located throughout New England and Canada. As the easternmost Indigenous peoples in what is now the United States, we are among the first to see the sunrise each day. Our people have lived here for thousands of years, guided and protected by our ancestors, who rely on us to preserve and pass down our culture to those who have not yet been born.
The Wabanaki creation story tells of Koluskap, the Creator, who shot an arrow into an ash tree. From the trunk of that tree, the Wabanaki people danced into existence. This story gives the ash tree a special significance within our culture and explains its importance to basketmakers throughout history. Originally, baskets were made primarily for storage and utility. Over time, however, they evolved into works of art through the use of finer ash, intricate designs, and sweetgrass.
Harvesting ash is a task in itself. It requires the knowledge to identify the correct tree and assess its quality before cutting it down and hauling it home to be pounded. Pounding an ash log takes endurance, strength, and patience. Using a wooden mallet or the back of an axe, the growth rings begin to separate into long strips of ash. These strips are then soaked for several hours before moving on to the next stage: splitting.
Using a splitter and a steady hand, rough strips of ash are transformed into thinner, more workable material. The strips are often scraped and smoothed with a knife before moving on to the final preparation stage: gauging. Gauging involves creating strips of different widths and thicknesses for specific purposes. These become the weavers, standers, and what my grandmother called cokiqis, a Passamaquoddy term that translates to “wart” or “loop,” often used to create decorative curls on baskets.
The final material needed for our baskets is sweetgrass, a tall grass that grows in marshy areas and can often be smelled long before it is seen. Sweetgrass is known as the hair of Mother Earth and is one of the four sacred medicines represented in the medicine wheel. It is commonly used in ceremonies and has a distinctive fragrance that can linger for years after it has been harvested.
There are many ways to harvest and use sweetgrass, but I was taught to pluck each strand individually from the root. These strands are then braided or incorporated into basket rims. Harvesting sweetgrass in this way requires patience, but it ensures the quality needed for basketmaking.
The baskets I learned to make are considered fancy baskets. They are generally smaller in size and vary in color, shape, and design. I especially enjoy embellishing mine with ash flowers, a design my grandmother learned from her mother, making our family’s work easily recognizable. Fancy baskets have long served as a source of income and livelihood for basketmakers, particularly after settlers developed an appreciation for the art.
In earlier generations, basketmakers often sold their work from roadsides and driveways, relying on passing travelers for income to support their families. Today, artists gather at markets and cultural events where they can sell their crafts and connect with people interested in basketmaking. My grandmother regularly attended markets throughout Maine and occasionally traveled thousands of miles to display and sell her work.
While basketmaking provides supplemental income—which has been helpful to me as a single mother of two—it is also deeply healing. I learned simple weaving techniques from my grandmother as a child, but it was during college that I committed to learning how to make a basket from start to finish. During my first two years of school, I often drove two hours from campus to sit with my grandmother, weave baskets, and spend time together.
That period of my life was a time of transition. I was experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty that I now recognize as a disconnect from myself and my culture. While learning from my grandmother, I listened to stories of her past, her hopes, and the struggles she had overcome. She offered guidance, comfort, and wisdom for the challenges I was facing. Hours would pass as we sat around her dining room table weaving and laughing. She always prepared wonderful meals for us—one of her favorite ways to show love—and Hallmark Christmas movies often played in the background. She was a remarkable woman whose presence touched many lives. When she passed away in 2020, her absence was immediately felt throughout the community.
Over the last year and a half, I have dedicated much of my free time to relearning basketmaking using the knowledge my grandmother shared with me, as well as the guidance of family members who are more experienced than myself.
Over the last year, I have attended multiple markets to showcase and sell my work, many of the same events I attended with my grandmother as a teenager. Being there brings back some of my favorite memories and provides a comfort that feels directly connected to her.
I feel my grandmother’s presence whenever I work with baskets. Much of my work is inspired by her creations and by the teachings of the generations before her. I have challenged myself by attempting to recreate some of their signature pieces, including a sewing basket originally designed by my great-grandmother, Irene Dana.
Most recently, I was able to use the mold my grandmother favored for what became her signature basket shape: the flower basket. Rather than replicate one of her exact patterns, I incorporated designs that reflect my own style while honoring her influence.
Along with mastering the art itself, continuing my grandmother’s legacy requires sharing this knowledge with others. My siblings, nieces, nephews, and my two children know they can always find me in my dining room on weekends when they feel inspired to create. Watching them complete their baskets is more fulfilling than I expected. Seeing my children, now nine and six years old, develop a desire to continue this legacy is especially meaningful.
Looking ahead, I plan to continue strengthening my skills, preserving this knowledge for future generations, and teaching those who wish to learn. My mother often speaks about holding up our piece of the sky, the duty of the Wabanaki. This was a teaching from tribal elders that has stuck with me. The idea behind this is referring to us being the first people to see the sunrise, we are important to the sky and part of our job while on Earth is to protect our culture and environment. It is important for us to identify what way we are going to contribute to the rest of the World and the future generations. Basketmaking is just one of the ways I hope to do my share.
One of the greatest challenges facing basketmakers today is the threat of the Emerald Ash Borer (EAB). This invasive insect destroys ash trees, and its presence continues to move closer to our communities. While researchers and specialists are working to find ways to protect ash populations, there is currently no simple solution.
I am still learning about the efforts being made to combat this threat and cannot speak in depth about the strategies being explored. What I can do is continue learning, teaching, preserving knowledge, and gathering ash whenever possible. I do not want to imagine a future in which ash trees are no longer available for basketmaking. The thought is heartbreaking.
Instead, I hold onto hope and faith that a solution will be found—one that protects not only the ash tree, but also the legacy of my grandmother and the generations of ancestors who came before her.