The museum and store are closed Dec. 24, Dec. 25, Dec. 31, and Jan. 1.
To the Discriminating Collector, 2002
Gerald Clarke Jr.
Cahuilla, Born 1967, Steel, Gift of Loren G. Lipson, M.D., Autry Museum of the American West, 2017.16.1
This sculptural, oversized “branding iron” references the complicated and brutal history of American Indian slavery that began with the first continental settlers. In early California, Native Americans were often forced laborers whose children could be legally indentured, and whose testimony by law was not accepted in court. This historical trauma and the related genocide of American Indian people and cultures left a deep scar, like an invisible brand. By working on cultural revitalization, including the recovery of ceremonies and language, Native communities are taking steps to heal from this colonial legacy.
California Genocide refers to the actions by the United States federal, state, and local governments that targeted Native American populations beginning in the mid-19th century. These included more than 370 large-scale massacres, as well as the murder or enslavement of individuals, sometimes for bounties and rewards. Children were legally indentured as slaves, and Indians could not testify against whites in a court of law. Many children were taken from their parents and sent to federal boarding schools so they could be assimilated. The spread of disease, forced Christian conversion, and seizing of resource-rich land also contributed to the loss of American Indian culture.
On June 18, 2019, Governor Gavin Newsom issued an executive order that apologized for this genocide on behalf of the State of California. The acknowledgement and apology is one step in the healing of many Native communities that still struggle with loss of cultural traditions during this dark time in their history.
To the Discriminating Collector, 2002
Gerald Clarke Jr.
Cahuilla, Born 1967, Steel, Gift of Loren G. Lipson, M.D., Autry Museum of the American West, 2017.16.1
This sculptural, oversized “branding iron” references the complicated and brutal history of American Indian slavery that began with the first continental settlers. In early California, Native Americans were often forced laborers whose children could be legally indentured, and whose testimony by law was not accepted in court. This historical trauma and the related genocide of American Indian people and cultures left a deep scar, like an invisible brand. By working on cultural revitalization, including the recovery of ceremonies and language, Native communities are taking steps to heal from this colonial legacy.
Saints and Sinners, undated
Cochiti Pueblo, Born 1964, Ceramic with polychrome pigments, Gift of Loren G. Lipson, M.D., Crocker Art Museum (Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
The image on this large bowl depicts a vignette based on the invasion of California by Franciscan missionaries. Here, Franciscan Father Junípero Serra, who was beatified as a saint in 2015, holds a crucifix and looms over a subjugated Indian flanked by soldiers brandishing a whip and a gleaming sword. The title of the work invites the viewer to decide who really plays the roles of “saint” and “sinner.”
Born and educated in California, Diego Romero’s acclaimed works reference both the Mimbres ceramics of his Southwest ancestry and contemporary comics.
Mission Life, 1998
Tongva/Acjachemen, Born 1952, Etching, Private collection (Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
Between 1769 and 1833, twenty-one Spanish missions were established in California—many founded by Junípero Serra, who was canonized in 2015. Yet Serra is far from a saint in the eyes of many. The missions he built employed corporal punishment, forced religious conversion, and were epicenters for disease, amounting to a cultural genocide. The sign outside this mission, advertising “Franciscan Showers,” evokes a historical parallel between the Nazi death camps in the 1940s and the experiences of the artists’ Ancestors during the Mission Era.
Another Dead Indian, 1998
Catherine Nelson-Rodriguez
Luiseño/Choctaw, Born 1953, Mixed media on canvas, Courtesy of the artist
Catherine Nelson-Rodriguez creates paintings that unflinchingly document the reality of contemporary Indian community life. Here, the artist uses a newspaper clipping as the inspiration for a painting about the internalized trauma and cycles of violence that have plagued the American Indian community for generations. The ambiguous police presence in this work evokes the recent increased scrutiny of racial profiling by law enforcement.
Maidu Walk, 1980
Dalbert Castro
Nisenan, Born 1934, Acrylic on canvas, Gift of the Aeschliman-McGreal Collection, Collection of the Oakland Museum of California, H93.66.36 (Photo by Josh Tousey)
This painting pays homage to the 1862 forced relocation of both the Konkow Maidu people from the Chico area of California and the Atsugewi people from the Mount Shasta region of the state. Both were moved to the Round Valley or Covelo Indian Reservation—the ancestral home of the Yuki people. When the Native people arrived at the reservation, settlers killed 45 of them. Many survivors fled but were eventually rounded up and driven back. This painting depicts their long walk back, which resulted in several additional deaths. The Sutter Buttes, located near Yuba City and depicted in the painting’s background, are spirit mountains for the Maidu; they stand in witness to this sadness. Dalbert Castro identifies as Nisenan, one of the Maidu family of tribes.
Burn Digger Burn, Circa 1990
Yuki/Wailaki/Konkow Maidu, Born 1957, Mixed media and paint, Gift of the Aeschliman McGreal Collection, Crocker Art Museum, 2017.62.9 (Recto Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
This work recalls an act of California Indian sovereignty: the ceremonial burning of an effigy of a “digger” Indian on Sunday, April 20th, 1924. A disparaging word coined by settlers, “digger” was once even accepted as a tribal name. After the 1924 burning, the tribal name was changed to Miwok. At once an altar, a private reliquary, and documentation of changing terminologies, the piece references the pain of a community’s history. The participation of community members who collectively reclaimed their dignity is evidenced by the many burned matches on the back.
Yuki People, undated
Frank Tuttle
Yuki/Wailaki/Konkow Maidu, Born 1957, Mixed Media, Gift of the Aeschliman McGreal Collection, Crocker Art Museum, 2017.62.10 (Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
A Is for Apple; I Is NOT for Indian, 2016
Diné/Comanche, Born 1961, Acrylic; ink; graphite; charcoal; and collage on paper, Gift of Loren G. Lipson, M.D., Crocker Art Museum, 2016.89 (Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
“Kill the Indian, save the man” was the motto of Carlisle Indian School, one of the most notorious American Indian boarding schools. The first to be federally funded and off-reservation. Many such boarding schools were established in the late 19th and early to mid-20th centuries to encourage the assimilation of Indian youth into mainstream American culture by attacking Native cultures and traditions. This program of “civilization” resulted in painful separation of families, isolation from communities and, in many cases, physical and mental abuse.
Several artists in this exhibition, including co-curator Frank LaPena were sent to Indian boarding schools as children. In this image, the figure’s skeletal legs suggest her vulnerability, and the candied apples that surround her evoke the explicit goal of these schools: to make the children white on the inside.
Relevatory Landscapes, 2019
Julian Lang
Karuk, with Wiyot and Konomihu Shasta ancestry, Born 1951, Video installation: 3 min. 28 sec. looped, Courtesy of the artist
This bilingual video is a poetic passage in English and Karuk, the Indigenous language of the Klamath watershed upriver people. An earlier version of this work was originally conceived for a site under the Guadalupe Parkway in San Jose, California, where the English text was visible in one direction and the Karuk was visible in the opposite direction. Lang is an artist and linguist who is involved with teaching Karuk language within his community. He also works as a music teacher and is deeply involved with the ceremonial dances of his people.
Seven From Hell (Columbus, the Priest, the Harlot, the Pimp, the Murderer, the Thief, and Satan), 1991
Jean LaMarr
Pit River/Paiute, Born 1945, Etching and found shoes, Courtesy of the artist (Photo by Josh Tousey)
In this etching with accompanying shoes, a train of portraits begins with Christopher Columbus and a Mission-era priest and ends with the devil as the caboose. Columbus and the Franciscan priest reflect the early days of colonization, and the related parade of modern shoes reminds us that some dysfunctional aspects of Native contemporary society were consequences of the cultures that these historical figures introduced.
Jean LaMarr is an acclaimed printmaker, known for the biting wit of her work. She has taught at the College of Marin, San Francisco State University, California College of Arts and Crafts, the Institute of American Indian Arts, and privately at the Native American Graphic Workshop, which she founded in Susanville, California.
Untitled (Man With Bound Arms), 1974
Bob Haozous
Warm Springs Chiricahua Apache, Born 1943, Stone, Gift of Loren G. Lipson, M.D., Crocker Art Museum, 2017.103 (Photo by Jesse A. Bravo)
Born in Los Angeles, artist Bob Houzous attended art school in Oakland. This sculpture depicts a Native man bound with rope; only his hands and head emerge from his blanket wrapping. It recalls famous Chiricahua Apache warriors, including Cochise (1812–1874) and Geronimo (1829–1909), who both endured and survived imprisonment. The figure’s oversized hands suggest that, even though tied up, he is still powerful, and that Native people today can break free from the troubled past.
When I Remember I See Red: American Indian Art and Activism in California was organized by the Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, CA, with support from the United Auburn Indian Community. This presentation at the Autry has been made possible in part by a major grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities.
Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this exhibition do not necessarily represent those of the National Endowment for the Humanities.
The Autry Museum of the American West acknowledges the Gabrielino/Tongva peoples as the traditional land caretakers of Tovaangar (the Los Angeles basin and So. Channel Islands). We recognize that the Autry Museum and its campuses are located on the traditional lands of Gabrielino/Tongva peoples and we pay our respects to the Honuukvetam (Ancestors), ‘Ahiihirom (Elders) and ‘Eyoohiinkem (our relatives/relations) past, present and emerging.
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