What readers get, instead, is a darn good yarn.
Some of the critical thinking about Curtis that Egan dismisses as coming from "a handful of academics and revisionists" in recent years could have made his good book much better and more important. "This was the way of the western man of letters," Egan writes in praise of Curtis, "boots muddy, scholarship by walking around."Įgan's distrust of scholars is evident in his own words as well as the thoughts he puts in Curtis' head. And though he is a veteran New York Times reporter, now a columnist for the paper, and a National Book Award winner, he seems to identify personally with Curtis, a grade-school dropout from Seattle who battled "eastern elites" his entire life. What kind of transformation enables this dramatic reversal? Is it as simple as saying that the photographs mean something completely different now? Can a "Curtis Indian" - as Curtis himself called his photographs - be turned into an American Indian, pure and simple, so that the elements in these highly manipulated images can now be taken as authentic evidence of a past that can be put to use again in the present? Or do Curtis' photographs still carry some part of that powerfully destructive extinction story with them, like a virus - or meme - lurking in a seemingly safe scene? Are there any dangers in the current enthusiasm for recycling "Curtis Indians"?Įgan is not concerned with such questions. The deep irony of this turn in Curtis' own image and the use of his photographs merits only a brief mention in the epilogue of Timothy Egan's "Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis."Įgan does not consider any potential problems with using images that Curtis intentionally crafted as part of a relentless narrative of extinction in the service of a new narrative of restoration. Now many Indians are reclaiming Curtis' photographs as symbols of their own survival and revival, displaying them in tribal visitor centers, classrooms and casinos. Indians, of course, did not go extinct, cultures did not vanish and tribes have not disappeared. Meant to chronicle the last traces of Indian life and culture before they disappeared forever, Curtis' nostalgic photographs were of a piece with early 20th century assimilation campaigns and official termination of Indian tribes. They point out that Curtis' photographs were staged to create an image of a "vanishing race" - the title of his most famous photograph - bound for inevitable extinction. In recent years, however, Curtis has taken a drubbing from scholars. His sepia-toned pictures of stoic chiefs, beautiful maidens and romantic figures in the lonely vastness of the American West have long been popular icons of Native America. By Timothy Egan ( Houghton Mifflin Harcourt 370 pages $28)Įdward Curtis, the famous photographer of Indians, is enjoying a curious revival.
0 kommentar(er)
