What a surprise to discover that the Whitney Museum had a branch in Cody Wyoming. It was my city slicker snobbery that caused the initial disbelief that such an institution existed here. I'd been to the Whitney in NYC many times and it was my goal as an American artist to get my work shown there. But Cody?
While RG was here primarily to attend his 20th high school reunion he also had an interest in art. He was just starting a resource database for artists that has now morphed into the artdeadlineslist.com <http://artdeadlineslist.com> publishing empire, but then he was interested in just dropping off a few post cards in local artists studios and galleries to get known.
After riding horses around Karl's home/range/property, and spending time with RG's family, I was ready for culture with a capitol "C". The siren song of The Whitney called me.
It was a beautiful building and there was a great replica of a Fredrick Remington rearing horse sculpture in the parking lot. RG took my picture in several places under the horse's belly. As we often do, I headed off in one direction to follow my interests and RG went in another. We agreed to meet back at the sculpture in the parking lot.
My experience of western art was mainly through reproductions in art magazines. I confess I did not have a strong interest in the genre. I was not a landscape painter. Contemporary figurative expressionist work was my bag. But the Thomas Moran and Albert Bierstadt landscapes here in Cody were impressive. What really blew me away was the sculpture of Fredrick Remington. Sculpture is the hardest to capture in reproduction. I had never seen an original Remington. He was certainly as accomplished as any European artist of his time, but Remington did not figure in my art school education.
It was in the Remington gallery, as I was enraptured with one of his rearing horses, that I felt someone standing behind me, standing closer than a casual observer of art in a gallery needed to stand. I glanced up to see a face that had seen a lot of sun, black hair, a strong nose and a smile. I smiled and moved on to one of the painting galleries. I'm looking at some small George Catlin paintings and a voice behind me asks "do you like him?" I turn; it's the same fellow from a few minutes before. He's interesting looking. He's wearing a leather vest, a leather cowboy hat with a feather, and boots. I can tell from the way he's looking at me he's interested in something more than Art. There is some small talk. I ask him where he's from. He's a Blackfoot Indian. He owns a ranch in Montana. I suddenly have visions of riding with him on the back of his horse off into the sunset back to Montana and leaving RG, his relatives and his high school reunion in the dust. But I don't. This man is burly. Why is he interested in me? Why is he here in the Whitney Museum?
Turns out there is a big Pow Wow in town. Indians from many tribes all over the west come down for this event every year. It's like a convention. He asks if I'm here for the pow wow. No, I tell him I'm with a friend for his 20th high school reunion. "Too bad" he says, "I'd like to have taken you back to Montana to show you my ranch."
Later that day RG and I stopped by the Pow Wow. These Indians looked like Indians with their feathers and beads and drums. I didn't see my Indian there. He was just like a normal man.
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Comments: 14
I've heard similar pick-ups from the Russians and Ukrainians in this area, not a ranch in Montana but something wonderful in Russia or Ukraine.
I notice that you use the term "Indian" in this piece. The natives I know are divided whether they prefer "indian" or "native american".
What's your feeling on this?
Cynthia, I bet he had your fantasy going for a while. WOW you lucky thing. ;-)
As for mine, just ask WALKER why I spend so much time in Toronto! LOL ;-)
I'm sure he was all genuine. A genuine man. That's what I felt. The "Indian" part of him was what made him exotic. That's the part I saw.
It's like this old controversy regarding an African tribe. My boss, a filmmaker made many films about African "Bushmen" back in the '60's and '70's that was considered a negative term, so anthropologista used the term !Kung or San Peoples - now, because "Bushmen" are a tourist draw, and have more audience appeal - the Bushmen have gone back to calling themselves "Bushmen". It's now a point of pride with them.
My friends here would rather just be referred to by their tribal designation as Hopi, Navajo or Apache.
Cynthia, I agree about names. I don't want a label, but in describing to someone else who I am, a part of me is Danish, another part of me is Canadian. It's a fine line. I think Walker summed it up perfectly.
Leah, I'm half Danish too. My dad was born in Denmark.
The group of African Bushman I referred to earlier are really Ju/hoansi and the Native filmmakers I've worked with go by their tribal affiliations. The most well known guy is a Hopi.