How forgotten recordings helped shape a living Chumash museum in Santa Ynez
-By Leonie Sherman
All the places we hike, bike, climb and ski are Native land. The dominant narrative relegates Natives to people of the past, sometimes noble, sometimes primitive, but always savage. The Santa Ynez Chumash Museum and Cultural Center aims to change that by sharing Chumash history, ceremonies, and songs from a Native perspective. The treasure trove of material that informs much of the museum’s content was found in a dusty basement after languishing unused for almost a century. 
The museum, which opened to the public in May 2025, sits near the intersections of Highways 154 and 246, a 40-minute drive from downtown Santa Barbara. An enormous bronze sculpture called Keeping Our Culture Alive greets visitors. The entry hall to the 14,000-square- foot facility features a digital sound and light show called Our Land Has A Voice, which is projected onto the high rounded ceilings. The museum itself contains 24,000 artifacts from various historical periods, divided into carefully curated exhibits. Surrounding the museum is a 6.9-acre park where meandering paths guide visitors past traditional dwellings, over 11,000 native plants, a burbling creek, and a workshop where an ocean-going tomol is under construction.
The displays blend high-tech digital immersive experiences with careful historical explanations and stunning collections of ancient and modern artifacts. “Our museum aims to tell the history of our people and our past in order to demonstrate our connection with the present,” explains Kathleen Marshall, Museum Board Chairwoman for the Santa Ynez Chumash Museum and Cultural Center. “We still carry with us all the trauma and anger, all the joy and triumph. We are still singing our songs, doing our ceremonies, performing our rituals. We want visitors to understand that our culture is still very alive.”
Though the museum is beautiful, much of the truth it depicts is ugly. “We wanted to showcase the struggles our people have been through,” explains Hannah Lent, Program Assistant for the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians’ Culture Department. “They tried to get rid of us and kill us, literally.”
The museum provides an unflinching account of Chumash history from pre-contact to the present. Firsthand sources explain the mission era of enslavement, the ranching era where native food sources were destroyed, and the forced boarding school era, which attempted to eradicate Native culture and continued into the 1980s.
“We are able to be here right now, stewarding this museum and the blooming of our culture because our ancestors decided to live, they fought to survive,” says Lent. “Our ancestors were literally forced to choose between living or knowing their songs and heritage. Today we don’t need to make that decision. We created this cultural center to rejoice and uplift and renew ourselves. It’s a good time to be an Indian.”
The bulk of the museum celebrates traditional Chumash songs, stories, and beliefs, with interactive exhibits to teach the Chumash language. The location and customs of various villages are shown through interactive exhibits and artwork. Intricate baskets and tools are on display. Contemporary classes, powwows, and cultural efforts are lovingly explained in colorful interpretive panels.
All of this is funded by the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians. Ever since their primary business, the Chumash Casino Resort, began as a bingo hall in the late 1980s, the band has funneled money into community and land preservation efforts throughout Santa Barbara County. Over 20 years ago efforts to create a cultural center ramped up, and today an amazing facility sits on the 99 acres originally ceded to the Chumash Tribe.
“I feel really proud of this museum because our story is being told by us and it’s about time,” says Lent’s grandmother, Antonia Flores, a Museum Board Member and Chairwoman of the Elders Committee. “We are letting the valley and the world know we exist, we are still here and we are going to stay. This museum represents not just our ancestors, but our children, their children; it’s going to go on and on.”
Representing the ancestors involved speaking with currently enrolled tribal members and even listening to ones who are no longer alive. “We asked elders about their experiences, what they saw, what they wanted to share,” explains Marshall. “We let our elders guide the way.”
One of the elders who guided the way was their collective grandmother, Maria Solares. A repository of Chumash customs and culture, Solares died in 1923, but her wealth of knowledge lived on in 13 reels collected by Smithsonian ethnographer John Peabody Harrington, who lived with her from 1912-1914. “Solares told him [Harrington] the stories, our religion, our customs and what she knew, which was taught to her by her uncle Ignacio Talinwit,” explains Lent. “She was the last one to hold all those songs and stories.”
Much of the museum is based on Solares’ knowledge. “Honestly she is our savior,” admits Flores. But that salvation followed a long and winding path. Harrington took his notes in code and jealously guarded his collections. “All those guys were competing with each other for our Native knowledge,” says Lent. “We were a commodity, a business to them.”
Because Harrington’s notes were in code, and the reels were in Chumash, the scope of what they contained was not apparent until a linguistics student named Richard Applegate began investigating. When Applegate decided to write his dissertation on an Indigenous language his professor led him to a UC Berkeley basement filled with recordings and let him choose. He happened to pick Solares’ reels. “He decoded Harrington’s notes, and taught himself Chumash,” explains Marshall. “His dissertation was basically a very technical dictionary of the Chumash language.”
The Chumash Tribe hired Applegate to teach them how to speak their own language; the last fluent native speaker died in 1965. Applegate helped them understand not just words and grammar but the spiritual intent behind sentence structure. Marshall was one of his original students; now there are five lead language teachers among the Samala Chumash. “When Dr. Applegate came into our lives, our elders knew how important that was for us,” explains Marshall. “He elevated us, he helped us understand the magnitude of the gift our grandmother left for us.”
Once they learned the language, they were able to understand those 13 reels, which turned out to be the key to learning about their own heritage. “We didn’t even know the name of our tribe,” explains Marshall with a heavy sigh. “Everyone called us Ynezeno, after the mission we were associated with. Solares said ‘No, we are called the Samala people.’“
“She gave us so much,” explains Marshall. “I really believe she knew all the work of learning from her uncle and sharing with the Smithsonian anthropologist was going to save who we are.”
The museum that rests on Solares’ knowledge is a gift for Natives and non-Natives alike. “We are open for school tours. Yes, the public learns our story, but I’m more excited about our little Chumash kids who get to walk into this museum and be proud of who they are,” explains Lent. “They get to share it with their friends and teachers. I’m excited to see where it goes and how things shift in the next 20 years.”
The museum and accompanying cultural revival provide direction, meaning and purpose beyond the small band they represent. “I get so happy when I’m wearing my badge at the grocery store and someone says ‘oh you work there, it’s so beautiful,’” says Lent. “I’m excited about the future for our people and the people of the valley. I hope this museum inspires other tribes to build their own museums and take their narratives into their own hands.”
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