It all began at her grandmother’s house here in Helena, MT, built in the 1960s, which quickly became the family’s gathering spot. For Rachel Twoteeth-Pichardo, a Helena artist and member of the Little Shell Chippewa Tribe, it was more than a house; it was a cultural anchor for a people without a reservation, a place where belonging grew from family showing up for one another. 

Rachel remembers summer evenings there as a child, the memories of her and her cousins running barefoot through the grass, their laughter carrying toward the creek that cut through the yard. Horses grazed just beyond the fence line. They transformed the old cars in the yard into their playground, where their imaginations ran free. As night fell, voices carried into the dark, rising with the crackle of the fire, as the stars pressed in close overhead. 

Every morning, her grandmother watered the trees one by one while birds fluttered overhead. “She had a rhythm, you know?” Rachel recalled. “She made sure everything was cared for.” Those rhythms were steady, consistent, and full of love. They became part of the foundation for Rachel’s own life.

Even Helena’s landscape was woven into the family’s stories. Rachel’s dad used to point to the Sleeping Giant at the northern rim of the valley and tell the kids it was their grandfather resting. 

“I didn’t even question it. I just thought it was a true old Native story, until one day I asked my dad if the sleeping giant was really our grandpa. He laughed out loud and said he only told us that because that’s how his grandpa John Twoteeth (Nisowapit in Cree, Niizh Wiibidan in Ojibwe) looked when he was sleeping,” Rachel shares.

For Rachel, this land was more than a backdrop. It was a place of safety, wonder, and imagination, with roots that continue to shape her life and her art today.

Becoming an artist was never really a goal of Rachel’s or one that she thought was achievable. “I never thought I was going to be a ledger artist,” she said. 

Ledger art is a medium that connects the artists to a much older lineage. It first emerged in the 1800s-1900s when Native peoples didn’t have access to traditional materials and began recording ceremonies and histories on whatever paper they could find. “The ledger pulled me into the whole art community, the whole art world. I feel like it’s the perfect way for me to express myself. Even just the way that I can tell my stories on it is pretty cool,” Rachel says.

 Rachel carries that tradition forward, but with a deeply personal twist: her pages are family documents, carrying her grandmother’s handwriting.

Her art career was shaped at Helena College University of Montana, where mentors encouraged her to take her creativity more seriously. Art professor Seth Roby helped her define her medium and find her artistic voice, while writing teacher Virginia Reeves gave her the push to return and complete her degree after years of balancing school, work, and raising two young children. 

The turning point came after her grandmother, Sharon (Matt) Twoteeth, an enrolled member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes and a boarding school survivor, passed away in 2016. While sorting through her belongings, Rachel uncovered a stack of ledger books from the small store her grandmother ran in the 1990s. The pages were filled with handwriting, lists, and receipts. Evidence of a daily life now gone. 

Rachel didn’t see just paper. She saw a new way to create and connect with her culture and community. She began creating pieces of art depicting figures, animals, and moments over those pages, allowing the handwriting and lines to show through. Each work became a conversation between past and present, grief and resilience, memory and imagination. 

She continues her practice today at Omerta Arts in downtown Helena, a collaborative gallery and studio space where artists keep their doors open and conversations flowing. Peers swap feedback on shadows, color choices, even the angle of an imagined sun. When you walk in, you’re greeted with finished pieces of art, much like a traditional studio. What makes Omerta different, though, is that you can also meet the artists themselves. “You actually get to see real artists and ask them questions, so it’s not as intimidating,” Rachel explained. 

Rachel has collaborated there on sculpture and ceramics, and learned new skills she now carries back into her ledger pieces.

When Rachel talks about Helena today, her words are steeped in affection. She describes it as the first sip of morning coffee. Creamy and sweet. The kind of feeling that makes you think, “It’s going to be a good day.”  

For her, Helena has been the fertile ground to grow as an artist, a mother, and a keeper of stories. In return, Rachel strengthens the community by sharing her culture, teaching our youngest residents, and keeping Native presence visible in the everyday rhythm of life. 

The town, for Rachel, is the ease of taking her daughters to JFK Park or Tenmile Creek after work, the light traffic, and neighbors who show up. It’s a town steady and safe enough for children to play until the sun goes down. It is a gym full of kids laughing through a traditional game, or a studio door propped open on a crisp weekday afternoon. 

“Consistent,” she said. “That’s what Helena feels like.” 

Look up at the Sleeping Giant, and you might remember the family story Rachel grew up with: seeing it as a grandfather watching over the valley. Step into Omerta Arts and you may catch a glimpse of her ledger pages taking shape. Attending the Last Chance Community Pow Wow, you’ll find her surrounded by family, neighbors, and friends. Visit the Helena Indian Alliance, and you may find her teaching how to bead.

Beneath every line she draws is memory. Above it, a story still unfolding. Rachel’s work, and the way she moves through life, is a living reminder that heritage is not just something to be remembered, but something to be celebrated in real time.