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Native America: Represented by Others and Representing Itself To represent the Native American is inevitably to create, recapitulate, or transform stereotypes, for there is no single Native American image or type. Tribal variations before the appearance of the European on the continent were extreme: some tribes typically as tall as six feet, others as short as four; hunters, agriculturalists, traders, fisherpeople; basketweavers, blanketmakers, potters, totem-builders. The forced movements and interpenetrations that accompanied European incursion, reservation policies, and the like may have brought American natives into closer contact with each other, but they did not eradicate tribal and ethnic differences. Native America: Stereotypes by natives and outsiders
From high-priced galleries in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Sedona, Arizona, to airbrushed illustrations on Chevy vans in urban traffic, Native American stereotypes dominate the visual sphere, reminding us of the power of these symbols. Typically, the Native American is seen as a victim, pushed aside by an invisible but irresistable force: noble, gorgeous, deeply saddened, connected by right, by religion and by lifestyle to a pristine Nature: the Noble Savage of Rousseau and the Enlightenment updated and turned into pop mythology.
The origins of such imagery are found in the 19th century, in white depictions of Indians ranging from Currier and Ives to German and American Romantic painting by figures as diverse as Bodmer and Bierstadt.
Bodmer's imagery was in some ways fundamentally different than its successors: Bodmer actually saw these figures, and painted them as he saw them. But he had already been programmed by his European heritage and the "noble savage" tradition to seek the models who conformed to the picture in his imagination and in the imaginations of his viewers and patrons. His work was deeply influential.
Bierstadt, too, inserted imaginary Indians into imaginary Rocky Mountain scenes that were composed as much of his memories of the Alps as they were of actual American scenery. The descent into cliche continued with the photography of Edward Curtis, who photographed the "vanishing race" with a pictorial impulse and a sentimental eye.
Curtis's work masqueraded as anthropology, appeared at the moment when "cowboy and Indian" movies were about to sweep into the new motion picture technology, gave rise to a wave of sentimental imagery that accelerated with the fashion for all things Southwestern and Indian during the American '20s, and has recurred with regularity since. Today, "vanishing race" nostalgia is a staple of tourist and mass-market art, from jigsaw puzzles to posters on the walls of college dormitories.
That such imagery has done the cause of Native America no particular good is an argument made by both white and native historians and critics. That such imagery was the property of white culture has become a repeated theme of major Native American writers, artists and political figures.
Native American self-representations predate the appearance of Europeans on the North American continent, and they continue to the present. The subject, rich and exhaustive as it is, can't be fully dealt with here; luckily there are webpages with range, objectivity, sensitivity, and much information, including images and commentaries. The development of an anti-Romantic, native-born cultural imagery has been relatively recent: Sherman Alexie, novelist and film-maker, is one of the most visible exemplars of this new tradition. His movie, Smoke Signals, is readily available on video and DVD, accessible to those with a moderate fluency in English, and deeply provocative.
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