225BatonRouge.com

Growing up in the Uptown neighborhood known as the Third Ward, photographer J. Nash Porter documented with his camera the dazzling and colorful ritual of the New Orleans Mardi Gras Indians. For more than 35 years, Porter chronicled the tradition through his photography.

Today the photographs by this Baton Rouge resident are in a special exhibit on display at the Smithsonian’s Anacostia Museum and Center for African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C. In addition to Porter’s photographs, the museum is showing a collection of Indian suits, including a child’s suit that was pulled out of the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina. It runs through October 15.

Porter and his wife, LSU anthropology professor and ethnomusicologist Joyce Marie Jackson, hope to raise awareness and understanding for this often misunderstood New Orleans ancestral legacy.

What began more than 200 years ago as a violent means of revenge between neighborhoods and gangs morphed into a more civilized form of competition involving elaborate costumes, exuberant battle chants and rhythmic drum beats, instead of using guns and knives.

Men and women who participate create elaborate, costly suits of intricate beadwork and marabou plumes. Materials for one suit cost as much as $5,000, and it takes up to a year to construct a single suit. Wounded hands bear witness to the daily toil with the needle and thread, but it’s all part of the price for exhibiting the best suit and mask.

Not everyone appreciates Mardi Gras Indians. The New Orleans Police Department used to make it difficult for the Indians to parade on Mardi Gras Day, St. Joseph’s Day and Super Sunday, Mardi Gras Indians say.

Irving “Honey” Bannister, who has been masking as member of the Creole Wild West tribe since he was 6 years old, says there is a general misunderstanding about the culture.

“About two years ago, the police took it too far,” he says. “First, they told us to get off the streets and stay on the sidewalks. So we did. Then they told us to get off the sidewalks and go home. They got violent with us, and people got hurt.”

The Indians took their dispute to New Orleans City Hall. After a rousing debate between longtime masking Mardi Gras Indian Chief Alison “Tootie” Montana and the City Council, Montana collapsed on the chamber floor from a heart attack and later died. The death of one of the most charismatic Mardi Gras Indians had devastating effects on the culture.

Bannister, who has been living with a cousin in Baton Rouge since Hurricane Katrina destroyed his home in the Third Ward, says the longstanding tradition of masking had been in jeopardy before Montana’s death and the ravaging storm, however.

“It’s been dying out slowly,” he says. “There are a few of us keeping it going. The young guys in the neighborhood just don’t seem interested though. Who are we going to pass the tradition onto?”

When Katrina hit New Orleans last August, Porter and Jackson, who have lived in Baton Rouge for the past 13 years, opened their home to more than a dozen Mardi Gras Indians.

“Nash and Miss Joyce were passing out sewing needles and thread,” Bannister says. “We were beading and dancing and having a great time. For a moment, everyone forgot about the storm. They [Porter and Jackson] have always been huge supporters of the gangs and have been very important in helping us keep the tradition going.”

“It’s very sacred to us,” Bannister says. “Nothing is going to stop me from masking unless I leave this earth.”