His religion and spirituality are such a big part of who he is that he asked to move up the time for our scheduled interview by a few hours because he wanted to participate in a Cochiti Pueblo religious feast that afternoon.   

When a friend and I picked him up in Santa Fe in mid-July, he waited for us outside an automotive shop where he left his truck for maintenance.

Months earlier I introduced myself to the master jeweler at the Heard Museum Show in Phoenix, and told him I was a long-time admirer of his work. After all, not many natives own their own gallery near the Santa Fe plaza or have their work grace the pages of slick magazines year after year, while they rack up awards.

"This town has gotten too expensive," he said, after a long breakfast, as he showed us where he once rented a gallery. "It was getting to the point where I had to bring in $25,000 a month just to pay for this place. All the other businesses that were here when I was here, they're all gone too."

When he had the gallery, he worked seven days a week from 5:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. for three years. "My family suffered," he said. "To get something, you have to give up something. Oh yeah. I made a lot of money. I did good."

He bought a ranch, 18 years ago, tucked away in a valley, and put his son through private schools. "I joke now that he has a $500,000 education," he said. At one time Maktima spent between $30,000 to $40,000 a year on magazine advertising.

Maktima got his start in the jewelry business at Northern Arizona University (NAU) in Flagstaff, Arizona, when he was 19 years old. Following in his father's footsteps, he enrolled as a forestry student but then left school when an opportunity arose. He was offered a two-year artist internship at the Museum of Northern Arizona, alongside master Navajo jeweler Victor Beck - a student teacher - and took it.

"I remember one weekend we made 65 rings," he recalled about his internship in 1975. "At the time, in the 1970s it was about making money, not jewelry."

He learned a lot during the internship and when it ended, he returned to Laguna Pueblo. Almost three years later, he returned to NAU and graduated with a degree in fine art.

Develops style and design
Around lunchtime, he took us to the School of American Research (SAR) where he spent some time after graduating.   He had also received a fellowship from the Southwest Association of Indian Arts. "Until then, I really didn't have a style," Maktima said about how he began to develop his unique design. "I was doing all kinds of stuff: traditional and contemporary. I was trying to get a style. It was missing in my work."

A history buff, he showed us pueblo designs, their meaning and history, at the school's Indian Art Research Center. At NAU, he said, his professor had him write papers, like one on atomic art that had him probing deeper into prehistory. But it wasn't until he came to the SAR that everything came together. He said he use to share ideas with other artists, but many ended up stealing his ideas.

There's influence from many cultures, such as German and Finnish in his work.   Mrs. Urman, a collector told him: "Don't ever give this up. This is what European jewelry craftsmen gave up."

Then one day, his design and style appeared. "Right when I saw this simple design I knew it," he said. "My work would have that simplicity, that Scandinavian look. Out of that came my new design which I call the Pueblo V Deco."

In each of his designs he blends images from native culture and fuses it with Scandinavian, pueblo designs and 30 other influences, including Oriental. "All from extensive research in art history," he said. The result: a simple, yet complex design with a native perspective. He works more with silver than gold, because the return is higher.

He rarely use diamonds. "I like to stay in the format of semi-precious stones. And this is a kind of a touchy subject with me," Maktima said. He opposes the use of diamonds because it contributes to the destruction of the earth. "I am opposed to how they're acquired," he said. "The earth is sacred. We have to respect the earth. And so I don't want to contribute to what they do."   

"As Native American people we have had some doors open to us. We're so fortunate that we have a culture that opens up doors. Other cultures don't have that. We have something tangible to draw from. Our culture is still there. Who knows how long, though," he said.

Almost crushed
Maktima almost quit before he even started. "I was at the [Santa Fe] Indian Market in 1974, my first market. Some people kept coming up to my booth and telling me that my work looked like a very notable jeweler at the time" he said.   At the time, that artist (whom he didn't want to name) was older and at the height of his career. "So later on he came over [to my booth].   He took one look at my stuff and then turned to his friend and said, 'Let's go. This is a bunch of junk.'   I couldn't believe it," Maktima said.   Nineteen year-old Maktima was crushed.  

"After that I didn't respect that person anymore," Maktima said. "I thought: I'm going to be better than that. I will help and nurture people to be successful."

Year's later, he'd start a non-profit organization, Pueblo V Designs, dedicated to helping emerging native talent. "We wanted to help artist just emerging improve their work," he said. "We wanted to help them get their work to speak to people." Even today, he likes to show others what he knows about the business, he said. "There are craftspeople and then there are artists. But I don't show all of my techniques because I've been exploited by my open studio. I'm always willing to share my marketing techniques or how I did it. But I'm more careful now."

The jewelry business
Maktima has survived seven recessions and up and downs in the business. His art is in every major museum in the southwest. But business came to a halt when terrorists rammed jet planes into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  

"Right away I knew it was going to be a hard year," said Maktima. "I was really bummed out by October (of 2001) because all shops stopped buying. The Wheelwright Museum called me and said: 'You know Duane, I can't buy anything from anybody. But there is a new web service you should look into."

And nobody was traveling, either, he said. But as soon as he put up a web site, with help from son Norman, he sold $8,000 worth of jewelry. "I also sold $25,000 worth online. The web really changed the business for artists. Every month there was something good," he said.

After he closed his downtown Santa Fe gallery, he relied on the World Wide Web.

He's been through hard financial times, and got very close to selling his art on the QVC channel or on the popular web site www.overstock.com. "A

couple of times I told myself I'll call them tomorrow. Especially, when I really needed the money. I'd sit there and think should I call them or not? Then I'll decide: "I'll do it tomorrow. But something always happened. Maybe it was luck or my prayers. Maybe the next day I'd get an e-mail from someone, saying 'I'd like to order five pendants' or something,'' Maktima said.

"The thing about Native American entrepreneurship. You don't want to give up your culture and resources," he said. "I've been in a position three times in my career where I could have sold out. But I walked away."

Recently a Hawaii businessman had been coming around and wanting to partner with him. "He kept showing up. He wanted to get into a partnership. But I started getting the vibes and I thought here we go again. My family knew we were talking. But [eventually] it just died on its own, which may have been good," he said.

These days, Maktima says he's getting old. "There's the eye factor and fitness," he said. "I have problems with my back when I sit up too long. My hands hurt sometimes." He works from noon till late at night, sometimes into the early mornings.

His wife Janice is not only his manager, but she's there for the family. "Just so she could raise the children, she quit her job and I became the sole breadwinner," he said. He'd like to work with a school, such as Hopi High School, as an artist in residence. "My only regret is that I wish I had more kids."  

After touring SAR, where we looked at 1,000 year-old pottery and other native art in a vault, we drove to his countryside home, toured his studio, met the family dog and then toured the Pecos valley. He took us to Pecos Pueblo ruins, and told us about the early settlement by Spaniards. Next, we stopped by to see Norman, 26, now a fly fishing expert who once held the title of junior world champion. Earlier that day, celebrity actor Tommy Lee Jones cancelled a guided fly-fishing outing with him.

We finally left sometime in the afternoon to meet up with Maktima later at the feast. Inside the Cochiti Pueblo plaza, he surprised me. There were maybe a hundred dancers lined up, ready to enter the plaza. We were following him when he broke away, went up to a lady dancer, whom he later said represents the Lady Cloud Spirit, and took some white corn meal from a pouch strapped to her side, sprinkled it on her and offered a prayer.

Duane Maktima

Family: Wife Janice Maktima, son Norman and daughter Kari.

Most influential book: Me and Mine: The Life Story of Helen Sekaquaptewa, by Helen Sekaquaptewa. Not only does the book show the progressive versus traditional viewpoints, but Helen mentions that Duane's grandmother was her best friend. "I didn't get to meet my Hopi grandmother but through the story, I learned about her."

Awards:   1990 Distinguished Alumni award from College of Fine Arts, NAU and in 1999, the Millennia award. Lots of jewelry awards.

Education: Holbrook High School, Holbrook, Ariz. 1969-1971. Graduated from Moon Valley High School (Phoenix), 1972. Bachelors of Fine Art, Northern Arizona University, 1982.

Magazines often read: Art magazines:   Ornament magazine, Indian Artists (now defunct), American Indian Art, Southwest Art, and Native Peoples.

His wisdom: "If you know who you are and where you come from. You will be successful." (He repeated this at least 5 times during the day)

About youth: I feel bad for young people. It takes being there for them everyday. I know people raise kids by themselves. It's luck if they make it.