I’m having a hard time getting into the spirit of this season. Not sure about you, readers, but right now there doesn’t seem to be much to feel thankful about. So far November has been spent in a haze of numbing distraction. Like any self-respecting writer, I find the best distraction is education, finding something new to replace the brain space given to sorrow. Or at least, finding something new to ignite righteous anger.
There’s no better reason for the season than reveling in the Blanton Museum of Art’s “Native America: In Translation” exhibition, which opened Aug. 4. Curated by Wendy Red Star (of Apsáalooke heritage), an accomplished artist in her own right, these collected works offer a glimpse of Native America in the now. It’s not a retrospective or aggregation of cultural artifacts. It’s a flashpoint of current artistic creation, a resounding cry of what historian Philip J. Deloria calls “Indigenous indignation” sprinkled with the eternal quest to understand one’s place in the world – just in this case, the world is extra unforgiving.
“Native America” – featuring pieces by nine Indigenous artists working in photography, installation, multimedia assemblage, and video – is an extension of Red Star’s guest editorship for the fall 2020 issue of the photography magazine Aperture. Many of her curatorial choices fall into two camps: static unflinching looks at the world, or piecemeal creations that blend modern and ancient sensibilities. All speak to deep fractures in identity. In that sense, telling the story through work featuring camerawork is brilliant. Photography is about capturing an image and finding the truth through that form. That’s exactly what the exhibit achieves.
Some of the work gives explicit connections to artists’ ancestry. Those pieces directly call on tradition as a steady through line. Marianne Nicolson (Musgamakw Dzawada’enuxw First Nations), a land activist and artist, uses light and projected symbols in her installation Widzotłants gwayułalatł? Where Are We Going…What Is to Become of Us? to directly evoke the sense of standing in Kwakwaka’wakw longhouses. Those symbols surround a grainy black-and-white photo, faces staring accusingly from markers of fading tradition. Alan Michelson (Mohawk, Six Nations of the Grand River) also taps into history with his work. In Pehin Hanska ktepi (They Killed Long Hair), there’s a circling video of veteran warriors from the Battle of the Greasy Grass (aka Custer’s Last Stand) on a red trade blanket. It brings to mind the horse video in Jordan Peele’s Nope, a reminder that since the beginning, these folks have had skin in the game. It shows the eternal presence of Indigenous folks on this, their land. This is echoed in his work Hanödaga:yas (Town Destroyer), with maps projected over the bust of George Washington. It’s a potent reminder that America didn’t start with any united states.
Then there are works striving to find a place for their culture in the modern world. Searingly large-scale photographs by Martine Gutierrez (American, with Mayan heritage) offer the art of high fashion with Indigenous iconography. It’s a boldly accusing cry to fill representative gaps in marketing, to grapple power away from whitewashed consumerism. In Queer Rage, That Girl Was Me, Now She’s a Somebody, Gutierrez dons turquoise, sunflowers, and a feather necklace topped with bright makeup as she stares through the frame. Blending ancient and new, Gutierrez is offering ideas of beauty tinged with generational tragedy. Another piece, Neo-Indio, Kekchí Snatch, has her wearing jeans patched out of necessity and not for aesthetics, hanging off hips like a Calvin Klein ad.
Kimowan Metchewais (Cold Lake First Nations) also engages with ideas of where Indigenous peoples fit in a world that consistently refuses them room. He considers himself a “sculptor of flat, rectangular objects of various textures and tone,” shown through amalgamations of Polaroids cut and arranged and made into a new flat presentation. They add up like puzzle pieces of background and tradition, fitting together but slightly askew, as they try to create a whole picture of Indigenous life in America. Even Long Hair, a seemingly straightforward portrait of a man with long hair draped over his arm, gets chopped into pieces. The top image cuts off at the man’s shoulder. It seems to ask whether that is an acceptable length. Another image continues his torso, showing the hair flowing, even off the frame into a second picture showing hair pooling at his feet. There’s a message there. Something about defiance and searching perhaps. Or perhaps it’s just hair.
“Native America” is a large exhibit, covering several rooms on the main floor of the Blanton, but it’s also surprisingly restrained. Narrowing to the lens of photography helps keep focus. Sure, there’s enough interesting Indigenous art to fill the entire museum, but as it stands there are gems around every corner. Each artist’s work begs for rumination. Each has small details that capture attention. Each provides a gateway to consider what actually makes up America.
“Native America: In Translation”
Blanton Museum of Art
Through January 5
This article appears in November 22 • 2024.