Today he’s an artist called Klatle-Bhi (pronounced “Cloth Bay”).

In his late 20s, he was called Charles Sam. He was a hard-working contractor with a sun-decking business, living what most would call a good life.

Charles made great money in a stable trade. He partied with friends on the weekends. He was young. Strong. Healthy.

But he had the nagging feeling that there was more to life than the path he was taking. As his grandmother knew he would, he felt the pull to return to the Capilano Reserve, where he was born.

Klatle-Bhi remembers what she told him later: “The salmon always return home.”

Hoping to reconnect with the culture and ancestral traditions of the Squamish Nation, the young Charles began visiting sweat lodges and joining open-water canoe expeditions.

“It’s not called paddling,” Klatle-Bhi explains of the 16-person teams in 45-foot canoes. “It’s called pulling.”

He and his fellow pullers ventured into some big water, once pulling from Vancouver to Bella Bella in a 500-kilometre journey, stopping at First Nations communities along the way to share songs.

Three times he ventured to Victoria in the ocean-going canoes.

In 1994 he was part of a 30-canoe trek to the Commonwealth Games in Victoria. The journey from Vancouver to Campbell River to Victoria took a month.

Sure, they were scared at times, he remembers. They could have been overturned by whales or waves or winds.

“But if I ever was going to die, I was going to do it where I was happy,” he remembers. “We all need to go inside ourselves at some point in our lives and see exactly where we’re at. If you don’t measure yourself, how do you know?”

It was during this time he decided to go by the name Klatle-Bhi, which means “head killer whale in a pod of killer whales.”

“I realized I’d had that name all my life,” he says.

It was a period of cultural rebirth in his community and change swept through Klatle-Bhi’s life.

“I tried to go back to my decking business but it just didn’t seem right. The calling to go back to my community was too great.”

While balancing his contract work, he sought the guidance of local artists, who he also sees as spiritual teachers.

Under the careful eye of his uncle, artist Wade Davis, Klatle-Bhi carved his first moon mask.

He had been anxious to start apprenticing with his uncle. But Davis told Klatle-Bhi “when you get a knife, nephew, come see me.”

Klatle-Bhi bought a two-inch blade, a tool that would typically be used for the later stages and the finer details of a carving.

Davis told him to carve the entire mask with the small finishing tool. It was a test of his resolve and his desire – one he passed with flying colours.

Douglas Reynolds, one of Klatle-Bhi’s reps and the owner of the Douglas Reynolds Gallery on Granville, remembers plainly: he saw that first mask and knew Klatle-Bhi was going to be famous some day.

A few years later came Klatle-Bhi’s breakthrough show: Young Bloods.

It positioned Klatle-Bhi and Salish artist Tom Eneas as the innovative, contemporary up-and-comers in the evolving world of First Nations arts.

Reynolds explains, “they were both young carvers doing work with a modern feel that really separated them from other carvers.”

Klatle-Bhi drew on his apprenticeships with West Coast artists Simon Dick, Richard Baker, Rick Harry and Wade Baker to create something that people in the art community knew meant an exciting promise of things to come.

Klatle-Bhi became known for his use of dramatic washes, unconventional colours and innovative shapes.

“I fell in love with what I was learning. I hungered for it,” he remembers. “This is a way to see inside myself. Be honest with myself.”

By this time he’d taken a leap of faith: he’d given up his contracting and committed to carving full time.

There really was no other path, he says: “it’s like trying to stop a salmon from returning home. Good luck.”

* * *
What is faith?

You could spend a lifetime trying to puzzle out that question, and in fact many people do.

Some say that faith is humankind’s most magical ability: to believe that the life we want will happen for us. Some have even argued that by believing something will happen, we actively make it happen – call it the power of positive affirmation.

Today Klatle-Bhi thinks about the meaning of faith as he traces back through the years to describe his career as an artist.

The carver sits in his studio at his home on the Capilano Reserve, his back against the wall.

A bent-wood box rests on a stool in front of him, partially completed, the lines of a graphic face traced out and washed with a deep, rich green paint, bold colour that has become a trademark of his unique West Coast contemporary style.

“You have to be open to find your trail in life,” he says thoughtfully. “Listening is important to receiving. And the end-all-and-be-all goal in life is to be the best human being that you can be.”

Klatle-Bhi talks often about listening: listening to the wood as he carves, listening to the wind in the forest, the sounds of his ancestors in the trees, the call of the salmon and the trout when he fishes, reconnecting with the heritage of his people.

These signs around him help him to live a good life.

“Everything is connected and guides us in our lives. The wind blows in your ear while you’re making an important decision,” he smiles.

His fleece pullover is dusted with wood chips. Through the open door of his workshop, his little children eat lunch in the home he shares with his wife. One of his many apprentices takes a break from carving, to surf Facebook. Down the hall, his public relations agent chats quietly on her cellphone.

The agent is here because Klatle-Bhi has just hit it big.

Last week it was announced that Klatle-Bhi has been commissioned by Olympic sponsor PetroCanada to create a 25-foot totem pole for the 2010 Olympics. The Legacy Sea-to-Sky totem pole will most likely stand at the Four Host First Nations pavilion at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre during the Winter Games.

Klatle-Bhi says the totem will tell the story of the Vancouver Winter Games, the Four Host First Nations, and the four races of people from across the globe gathering in Vancouver.

“This will be my first masterpiece,” he says. “This is a great opportunity for me.”

Klatle-Bhi’s work shows in galleries around the globe. Some of his masks fetch upwards of $24,000. But this is the first time he will take six to 12 months and focus on one massive project.

Is Klatle-Bhi surprised at this development? No. Humbly and truly, no. He is honoured by what he calls “a dream come true.”

He also knows that carving is his path and this latest development with the Sea-to-Sky legacy project is a step along that path.

“This is the way we’ve (the people of the Squamish Nation) always lived,” he grins. “Believing it’s going to happen. You know you’re going to
be taken care of in one way, shape or form. It’s more than just a saying. If you constantly visualize goodness, it will come to you.”
* * *

So now begins the process of creating a 25-foot totem pole.

Planning and carving will take one year. Klatle-Bhi will have four assistants.

The carving will depict a killer whale, a thunderbird and a bear. The thunderbird will represent the supernatural elements of the region, like
Black Tusk, which was once called The Place of Thunder. A school of salmon swimming up the pole will represent the Squamish Nation.

Four faces above the bear will represent the Four Host First Nations and the four races of people gathering to compete at the Olympics.

“Totem poles are stories about a mark in time,” says Klatle-Bhi. “They leave a legacy for many lives. This is an opportunity for me to tell my story. It brings people together.”

First comes selecting the right tree: likely around 500 to 800 years old with straight grain. It will come from the stores of already-cut or felled trees. Klatle-Bhi hesitates to use the word “dead fall,” because “the tree is never dead. Culturally everything is alive and has a spirit. When the tree’s down it still has a spirit.”

Forestry companies around B.C. are on the lookout for the right tree, says Klatle-Bhi. It could come any time this summer. He’s not sure when. But he’s not nervous: “I had a dream it was in my garage. I know it’s on its way already.”

In his dream, Klatle-Bhi stood beside the tree, his hand resting on the bark.

“The spirit has already given itself up.”

Next comes that receptivity that Klatle-Bhi embraces in his life: the wood will show itself to him. He just has to listen. And people will come – to help, to watch, to witness.

“There’s gonna be visions. Things will fall into place because we all believe. It’s gonna be powerful,” he says. “The scope and power of this thing will be bigger than we can contain.”

As a spokesman for his people and for the story of the Olympics, Klatle-Bhi hopes to communicate “we are very blessed to have a strong culture in this day and age. It’s alive. It’s thriving and getting stronger all the time.”

And so for the next year a great trunk will sit in the space beside his studio. Chips and shavings will fall away as slowly, the forms of the legacy project take shape in Klatle-Bhi’s carving.

The figures may evolve as he works. The plans could change.

Klatle-Bhi will be listening, feeling out the messages in the ancient grains.

Source: Kelly McManus, The Northshore Outlook