Questioning the Native American image

Walk through The
Master Prints of Edward S. Curtis at George Eastman House and you will find
beautiful prints with compelling subjects. But beware, you’re not supposed to
like this work too much.

            It was
nearly a century ago that Curtis (1868-1952) began a project that would take
him 30 years to complete. The Seattle photographer wanted to preserve what was
left of American Indian culture.

            “There
won’t be anything left of them in a few generations,” he wrote to a friend. “I
believe I can do something about it. I have some ability. I can live with these
people, get their confidence, understand them, and photograph them in all their
natural attitudes.”

            Curtis set
out to document the lives of every Indian tribe west of the Mississippi. The 69
images on display are a tiny fraction of the almost 40,000 photographs Curtis
shot of Native Americans. (This particular set of prints is unique in that it
was chosen by Curtis himself. The prints are shown as he mounted them.) He also
made field recordings, with phonograph equipment, of over 10,000 songs,
stories, and language samples.

            Curtis
raised money for his project by publishing a 20-volume set of his images titled
The North American Indian. (There is
a set on display in a case.) And in 1914 he made, and lost money on, a feature
length film, In the Land of the
Headhunters, parts of which are also on view.

            But,
despite Curtis’ Herculean efforts and the resulting documentation — nothing
else comes close — the prevailing attitude is that it is wrong to
aestheticize anthropological subjects, and Curtis was careless in the way he
went about his anthropology.

            There is no
doubt that Curtis was guilty as charged. The men and women before his camera
were in some ways treated like objects. Most of them are removed from the
context of their daily lives. In images like Chief Joseph — Nez Perce, 1903, Bull Chief, 1905, and Weasel
Tail, 1900, the subjects are dramatically illuminated and posed against
neutral backgrounds. Often the native dress is inaccurate in terms of time.

            Curtis is
said to have perpetuated the myth of the noble savage. Yet, in his work, Curtis
captured something essential about the humanity of these people. Their seriousness
and their dignity comes through. Where else but a Curtis show are you going to
see a haunting photograph like Geronimo,
1905? And, in many of the photographs that were taken in the field, it is
the lives of the Native Americans that are illuminated as they are shown
weaving and making pots or doing a Buffalo
Dance or a Hopi Snake Dance (both
1904).

            There is a
series of prints depicting Indians in masks that is particularly fascinating,
because of the way in which the masks transform the wearer. I can’t imagine any
photographer finding a better way to document Basket Cap Masker (Zahadolzha) — Yebichai, Navajo, 1904, or A Mask — Yebichai, Navajo, 1904, and
the others in this series.

            Before
mounting the exhibition of Curtis’ work, the Eastman House formed an advisory
committee, including Peter Jemison, site manager of the Ganondagan State
Historic Site; Jaré Cardinal, board president of the Native American Cultural
Center in Rochester, and others to shape the dialogue and programming around
the show. One result of their work is Indian Art/Facts, a companion exhibition of work by contemporary Native
American artists.

            Some of
these contemporary works are politically charged, some suffer from the same
self-indulgence present in so much of contemporary art. Particularly striking
were some modern-day images of Native Americans — Wonderful Woman, Man with
Mask (both 1998), and others — that looked a lot like those of Curtis. I
usually don’t put much faith in artists’ statements, preferring to let the work
to speak for itself, but this piqued my curiosity.

            The
photographer, Joe Martin Cantrell (Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma), wrote: “So
Edward S. Curtis’s work was attacked by the Army of Political Correctness
because he set things up, used incorrect props, and generally did not seem to
worry overly much about anthropological accuracy. I don’t care one whit. It is
too easy for some self-serving contemporary critics to disparage his work by
THEIR standards while ignoring the monumental body of work Curtis accomplished,
the hundreds of Indians who have a face for us because he passed their way. My
hat, eagle feather and all, is off to him.”

            I couldn’t
have said it better.

            Among the
most striking works in Indian Art/Facts are two large pieces by Oscar Arredondo (Aztec).

            To create Welcome to Cleveland, Home of the…
(2000), a series of ink drawings, Arredondo took the grinning caricature face
of the Cleveland Indians’ mascot and turned the tables on just about everyone
else. In a wonderfully offensive series of stereotypes, we see white folks
symbolized by a KKK member, Germans as a smiling Hitler mascot, a drunk Irish
mascot, etc. Anyone who believes the use of Native Americans as mascots is
harmless is invited to substitute their own ethnic group and see how they like
it.

            On another
wall is a gigantic (over 30-feet-long and still not finished) mixed-media
collage, A Mile in My Moccasins (1995-present). Arredondo has assembled a literally endless collection of items
demonstrating the use of Native Americans in popular culture. Every stereotype
is here in comic books, posters, fashion layouts, mascots, toys, dolls —
anything and everything to do with the appropriation of Indian cultures.

            Taken
together, these items bolster the idea that Native Americans were far more
useful to non-native Americans as an image than as a reality. Wipe them out,
then romanticize and exploit them in every possible way that will bring in
money.

            Viewers may
see another irony: While Curtis is criticized for making documentary works too
artistic, contemporary artists get little criticism for making art that is
heavily weighted toward the documentary.

The Master Prints of Edward S. Curtis and Indian
Art/Facts continue through August 25 at George Eastman House
International Museum of Photography and Film, 900 East Avenue. Museum hours: 10
a.m. – 4:30 p.m. Admission: $6.50, $5 for seniors and students, $2.50 for ages
five to 12. Info: 271-3361.

GEH

This article appears in May 15-21, 2002.