Native American Massacre Site Project (NAMS): Finding The Aesthetic

Have you ever thought about a project for years? Researching, writing, reading, watching, consuming everything you can about a topic. And then, you finally make a move to bring those ideas, questions, and concerns to life. 

That's what's happened here. After over two decades of thinking about making this project a reality, I went out and started making plates. In my previous blog about this topic, I posted the test (positive) plate from Cold Creek Gulch. Here, I'm showing you some prints from the wet collodion negatives. 

I'm not entirely over the moon about the first outing, but it's satisfying. It is the first outing; it's started and that's what I'm excited about. 

Right now, my head is spinning with possibilties of what this could be. And this is when it gets scary for me. I tend to over think things like this. I will take a topic or a subject and strip it down to its bare essence. Sometimes, that's good, and other times, not so much.

The good part is all about vision and planning. A major component of this project is planning. Light, environment, access, etc. For example, do I want to be in Pine Ridge, South Dakota (Wounded Knee) in October? July? January? What is the light like? What access do I have? Etc.  I have to plan this for about fifteen sites that I'm doing. I may end up doing more or less, I'm not sure, but it's a lot of planning to do it right. That's where the obesession and preoccupaiton is an asset. 

The bad part of that obessession is being indecisivive and tripping on all of the small stuff. I don't want to over think the final image(s). I want to decide on something that's appropriate and that adds depth, dimension, and power to the work without killing it with craft. Craft is a slippery slope. It's easy to become preoccupied with it and loose sight of the purpose of making the work. 

I titled this blog, "Native American Massacre Site Project (NAMS): Finding The Aesthetic". That's a little bit misleading in that I've already decided on an aesthetic; wet collodion. I'm really referring to how I handle that process, specifically, how I print the wet collodion negatives. There are several options; Albumen, Salt, Collodion-Chloride, and even silver gelatin. My dilemma is walking the fine line between abstract landscapes and what I refer to as "traditional" landscapes. On the first site, I made one of each (see below). I like both of them, however, for this project, I want something in between. And, who knows? Maybe each site will allow me to make that decision while I'm there. It kind of happened on this outing. 

Whole Plate Albumen Print - "Three Stone Massacre Site - 1878"  

 Whole Plate Salt Print - "Three Stone Massacre Site - 1878"

Native American Massacre Site Project (NAMS)

This year, I plan to have a very good start on the Native American Massacre site project. This project is yet to be titled. I'll call it NAMS for now.

It seems that I'm constantly pulled into other projects and things that distract me. Teaching is a big one. As much as I love teaching, I'm going to have to figure out a better way to have more time, and I think that translates to less teaching. There are plenty of people teaching nowadays, it wouldn't be a big deal if I cut back. Of course, I would have to make some changes, but I'm ready for that.

In the next several weeks, I will be traveling to a couple of different massacre sites. I have a feeling that I'll be making more than one trip to some of these locations. Which translates to a very long time to make this project a reality. And I'm very much okay with that.

In fact, part of my desire to do this project is to get away from the ridiculous "photography" pace I've kept for the past several years. I'm tired. And a little bit burned out.

As many times as I've tried to slow down and cut back, there's been more opportunities that are presented. However, now, I'm learning how to say, "No, thank you" as it relates to photography and art. My boundaries are being redefined so I can do the things I need to do. 

While I've been very fortunate in my career, taking opportunities for opportunities sake doesn't really satisfy me. As an artist, I'm supposed to be thinking, reading, writing, researching and making photographs. That's the opportunity I want to pursue.

For the past year, I've been doing a lot of research on the NAMS project. I'm not over thinking it, but I am trying to position myself to make several inquiries not only about these events in history, but about art in general as well as aesthetics. It will speak to a lot of my concerns, questions, and attitude about art in general, too.

Recently, I discovered a treasure trove of information here in Colorado about obscure massacre sites and places where treaties were signed (and later broken). These sites, and the information they include, are almost like 19^th century urban legends. The writing tells of fantastic events about Native Americans, men, women, and children being slaughtered, raped, burned alive, skinned alive, and enslaved.

One entry that I read has rented space in my head. I can't get it out of my mind. It happened at at the Sand Creek Massacre site here in Colorado. It talks about the slaughter of native men, women and children by the U.S. military. As the natives were trying to run away, there was a little boy, about three years-old, naked running and crying toward the others. He couldn't keep up. One soldier pulls up his rifle and fires. He misses the little boy. Another soldier says, "Here, I'll get that little sonofabitch." He pulls his rifle up and fires. The little boy stumbles and falls dead into the sand. I cried when I read that.

Even that brief description doesn't come close to the things I've read about these events. I've visited a couple of these sites, without cameras, just to be there and to feel the land. One of them, just outside of Denver, is one of the most beautiful places I've seen here. To think about the horror, pain and suffering that took place there is almost like being back in Europe standing the gas chambers or looking at a blood ditch.

I'm reminded of Sally Mann's "Southern Landscapes" and "Battlefields". It's beautiful work, very haunting. The connection to the land is crucial. She imbued the work with that. You can feel how the land remembers. Those horrible events scarred the land.

My work will seem much more documentary in style, but will not be a documentary project. I don't even really believe those exist. This is about my relationship to my mother's heritage, to the land, and to genocide. It's a personal, very subjective look at my own thoughts and feelings regarding this terrible piece of American history.