The Beginnings of a Legacy

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Chikasha Alaska didn’t begin in a studio or gallery — it began in a bead shop in Anchorage, Alaska. I was searching for the perfect match of color and texture, wandering through the aisles of The Bead Shack, when I overheard two women discussing regalia and beadwork. Curiosity got the better of me, and I introduced myself. Those two women, Laura Revels and Amelia Simeonoff, were planning an upcoming Alaska Native Beading Retreat.

Without hesitation, they welcomed me into their circle. “We don’t know anything about your culture,” they said, “but you’re welcome to pull up a chair, share yours, and we’ll share ours.” That invitation changed everything.

Before long, I was invited to teach Chickasaw beaded collars at the same retreat — a moment that opened a door I hadn’t even known I was knocking on. Surrounded by women from across Alaska, each bead became a bridge: between cultures, generations, and stories. Those retreats and weekly gatherings became a lifeline — a place of laughter, shared knowledge, and deep belonging.

That community helped me grow beyond my limits and into a new light. They gave me students eager to learn, sisters in creativity, and friendships that became family. Teaching my daughter, my sisters, and others to weave beauty bead by bead became a rhythm of our lives.

Leaving Alaska was bittersweet. Saying goodbye to that circle of incredible women felt like leaving home. But their spirit still threads through every piece I create. The bonds we built at The Nave on Spenard Road — during those long, winter Sundays filled with beadwork and storytelling — continue to guide my hands and heart. My connection with Alaska Native artists will forever shimmer within my work, a reminder that creation is strongest when shared.

Photo Credit: Mike Conti

Mollie Fillmore Greenwood’s life began differently than most Americans of her time. In the 1830s and 1840s, both sides of her family were forced from their Mississippi Valley homelands and relocated to Indian Territory. Her great-grandparents carried with them seeds and plants — pieces of their homeland — to sow in the new soil that would one day become Oklahoma.

Mollie and her usband Henry Greenwood raised three children: Jeff, Mary, and Wilson. Only her sons lived to adulthood, and when her daughter passed, so too did her matrilineal Chickasaw clan. During the great migrations of the 1930s and 1940s, her sons moved their families to California in search of work, leaving behind their Oklahoma roots. In those years of separation, the family’s connection to Chickasaw culture grew dimmer.

Wilson’s son, Marion “Dick” Greenwood, kept what little remained — a single photo of his grandmother and a copy of her Dawes enrollment card. Many years later, he passed them to his granddaughter Tiffany. From that simple gesture grew a shared determination to uncover, honor, and revive their Chickasaw heritage.

Tiffany’s own journey carried her between Oklahoma and Alaska. In the remote community of Bethel, at just eleven years old, her Yup’ik teacher began asking questions that awakened something ancient: Did she have a Chickasaw name? Were there songs, dances, or regalia from her people? The answers had been lost for generations. The Alaska Native teachers stepped forward, offering their own knowledge — teaching her to bead, to dance, to sing, and to listen.

Those lessons became a lifeline. What began as cultural curiosity grew into a calling: to reclaim her Chickasaw identity through art and community. From the Yup’ik classrooms of Bethel to the beading circles of Anchorage, Tiffany’s work carries the spirit of both homelands — Oklahoma and Alaska — each bead a bridge between what was lost and what now thrives again.