With needles, sinew and beach grass in hand, a group of women in Alaska have breathed life into an old tradition and learned a new skill in the process: sewing bear intestines into wearables.
To the untrained eye, Linda Selanov’s ceremonial bear gut parka recently helped create looks reminiscent of a clear plastic rain jacket. The translucent coat, trimmed with fur and shells, is waterproof, windproof, lightweight and durable.
It was made from the intestines of two bears, painstakingly cleaned and sewn together over two weeks by Selanoff and other Chugach Sugpiaq and Eyak women in the Prince William Sound region of Alaska.
“It’s an honor to have the opportunity to learn a lost art, a lost skill, and then bring one back to the region that doesn’t sit in a museum,” Selanov said.
June Pardue showed participants how to prepare and sew these bear guts in the park. (Submitted by June Pardue)
There’s a note of reverence in Selanov’s voice when she talks about it. Speaking with Northwind host Wanda McLeod, Selanov described the process behind creating what was once a common and vital tool for hunters who set out in kayaks to catch marine mammals.
Unlike many parkas that are pieced together – front, back and sides – the parka is sewn in a continuous circular motion to the chest area.
Soft strands of beach grass line the seams and are puffed up to prevent water from seeping through the needle holes – a special waterproof stitch that is vital to the making of this parka.
The finished ceremonial parka features leather trim and fine stitching. (Submitted by Dayan Selanov)
History of the holding
When Sugpiaq’s elder June Pardue was very young, her mother Sophia Jane Johnson showed her on tobacco paper how to fold and sew this special waterproof seam.
Back on Kodiak Island, where Pardew is from, a gut park has been created over the past 15 years. But for the Sugpiaq of Prince William Sound, it’s been between 100 and 150 years since the last parka was sewn.
Pardue led the group in creating this latest bear gut parka, showing them the process just as the elders taught it.
“I’m very grateful that my mother shared these things with me, so it all came back to my memory,” she said.
“It was a long process. It was a beautiful process… and it was magnificent.”
Joyce Compkoff Peterson, left, and Diane Selanov examine a parka sleeve. (Submitted by Dayan Selanov)
Pardew said they made the parka ceremonial instead of functional because they didn’t have enough guts to make the hood. This gave them the opportunity to add embellishments – adding fur around the neck, wrists and lower opening.
“There were artists who worked with me and I could see, wow, their eyes lit up. They become artists,” she recalls. Collectively, they designed the seal fur and sea lion trim embellished with seashells and red beads.
Selanov said her hope is that this project will be the beginning of a process to return the bear gut parka to modern use.
“We can continue to teach and share the knowledge we’ve learned and how to make another park. So hopefully in the future it will become more common,” she said.
“Copper River sockeye were flowing”
The parka will remain with the Chugachmiut, the nonprofit agency for Alaska Natives that brought the class together as part of its language and culture program.
Selanov said the advice to create the park came from the Chugachmiut Elders Program.
“We all thought it would be a great idea to try to replicate the gut parka because the knowledge of how it was made was lost in the field,” she said.
Trimming the parka’s sleeves features sea shells and red beads attached to seal fur, with sea lion fur in between. (Submitted by Dayan Selanov)
While Pardue, Selanoff and the other participants did the sewing work, it eventually became a community effort.
The timing was perfect when they started the gut cleanse in early June. They sewed the parka itself in a large building in Córdoba, where people from the community helped to strip the thread and cut the pieces of leather for the trim.
“People were so excited. They even brought us food to keep us going,” laughed Pardew.
“The sockeye from the Copper River were going wild. So people were bringing Copper River red, smoked salmon jam, sandwiches and salads, fish heads – it was just wonderful.”
When the park was finally ready, the community hosted a celebration.
“It was a celebration of their first garment made by their people in over 100 years,” she said.
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