This story was originally posted on MyNorthwest.com
Inside a quiet studio on Vancouver Island, in British Columbia, Canada, Andy Everson keeps watch over the present and the past.
Surrounded by his ornate prints, carvings, and masks, Everson works with the deliberate precision of someone who knows he is carrying more than his own name. He is the grandson of a K’ómoks chief and an artist, using form, line, and color to preserve a culture that was once pushed to the margins.
“Our art and culture was deemed to be evil by the church, deemed to be pagan by the Canadian government,” Everson explained.
The Canadian government has issued several formal apologies to First Nations, most notably the 2008 apology by Prime Minister Stephen Harper for the abuse and intergenerational damage caused by the Indian Residential Schools system.
Today, Everson reclaims that history through his art. Sometimes it takes the shape of vibrant prints honoring what his ancestors called “the land of plenty.” Sometimes it appears in unexpected places, like Indigenous designs painted across the helmets of Star Wars stormtroopers, which is his playful collision of pop culture and tradition, explaining, “It’s kind of meshing all these worlds together.”
But one mask, more than any Everson had designed or decorated himself, caught his attention years ago in Burke Museum curator emeritus Bill Holm’s 1965 book, titled Northwest Coast Indian Art: An Analysis of Form.
Inspiration for the Seahawks logo?
One look at the photo of the traditional Kwakwaka’wakw transformation mask, printed in the bottom-right corner of a page smack dab in the middle of the book, might feel familiar to Seahawks fans. That’s because many experts consider its curved beak, flowing lines, and bold eye as the blueprint for the team’s logo.
“Essentially, they just traced the outline and certain elements to create the original Seahawks logo,” Everson said about the mask, which is also designed to open up to reveal the face of the person wearing it, as a symbol of man’s evolution from animals.
“As indigenous peoples, we’re connected to all of the animals in the land, because our people are descended from those animals,” Everson added. “It’s our belief.”
More than a decade ago, the Burke Museum tracked the mask down to the University of Maine and arranged for it to be shipped back to Seattle. Its features, including the sweep of paint around the eye socket, the open-ended eyelid lines, and the shape of the mouth and beak, align almost perfectly with the Seahawks’ original 1975 design.
Interestingly, the Seahawks’ original designers drew directly from the northern tradition of indigenous tribes in B.C. and the local Coast Salish people who lived in and around Seattle. Still, the roots of the Pacific Northwest, as a region, remain unmistakable.
In 2014, as the Seahawks surged to back-to-back Super Bowls, Everson was invited to dance alongside the glass-encased eagle mask that inspired the logo at the Burke Museum. It was a moment that collapsed time. An ancient object, a modern franchise, and a living descendant moving together in the same space. It was a moment that was unmistakably important to Everson and remains deeply personal.
“And for me, yes, it is,” Everson said. “It’s about connecting with our ancestors. It’s about continuing traditions.”
This year, Everson attended his first Seahawks game ever. He and his wife, Erin, sat in the front row behind the end zone for the NFC Championship. He had never experienced the stadium before, the roar of the crowd, or the collective energy of the “12s.”
“The noise was out of this world,” he said.
It was another bridge between worlds: football and ceremony, spectacle and survival. For Everson, the strength of the culture on display, even in an NFL stadium, reflected something enduring.
“The strength of our culture nowadays is a testament to the strength of our ancestors,” he said.
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