Left: 1492, from the Feather series (2 of 5), 1992, Platinum print. (26/9281) Right: Nakotah LaRance is a citizen of the Hopi Nation, Six-Time World Champion Hoop Dancer, and member of Dancing Earth Indigenous Contemporary Dance Creations, CIPX SFAI, 2012. Platinum print, 1/20.
From left, photographs by Larry NcNeil and Will Wilson, All Images Courtesy of the National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution

Going Platinum: Reframing the Native American Experience

ByBecky Harlan
October 24, 2014
12 min read

I had heard of platinum prints before, but I wasn’t really sure what made them unique. So I asked Heather Shannon, a photo archivist at the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI), to explain their significance. Here’s what I learned:

Invented in the 1870s, platinum is a way of making photographic prints that have a few standout qualities—wide tonal range that creates deep blacks, creamy whites, and every shade of gray in between; a diffused look that comes from the way the image is embedded in the fibers of the actual paper; and most importantly, at least for the purposes of this post, platinum prints are lasting. They are, to use the word chosen for the title of an exhibition currently on view at NMAI, Indelible.

The show features work by artists Larry McNeil and Will Wilson, two contemporary Native American photographers who are reclaiming the historic technique. The platinum process was used by famed 19th century photographers like Edward Curtis to create images that romanticized American Indians, when in reality their communities were experiencing serious upheaval. Today, these two artists are revising stories of the past and telling new ones using a technique that was once employed to simplify the existence of North America’s indigenous peoples.

The two artists approach their work from different ends of the spectrum. McNeil, in his Feather series, creates metaphorical photos that tell an overarching story of American Indian people—cycles of death and rebirth, hardship, and potential.

a white and gray feather held up to a sky with wispy clouds, black and white
1491, from the Feather series. “I’m using a feather as a metaphorical stand in for us indigenous people since some of our commonalities are our connections to our lands and animals.” Photograph by Larry McNeil (Tlingit/Nisga’a), b. 1955

Wilson forgoes the comprehensive for the specific, creating detailed tintype portraits of contemporary people, which he then scans and uses to make platinum prints. Unlike early depictions of Native Americans, his process involves a high degree of collaboration and exchange with his sitters who are both American Indians and non-natives.

Joe D. Horse Capture, Citizen of the A’aninin Indian Tribe of Montana and Associate Curator of Native American Art, Minneapolis Institute of Art, holding an iPad displaying an image of his great great grandfather
Joe D. Horse Capture is a citizen of the A’aninin Indian Tribe of Montana, and the Associate Curator of Native American Art at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Here he holds an iPad with a photograph that depicts his great great grandfather holding a rifle, taken by Edward Curtis. He said the rifle was to signify that he was a warrior, and that today he holds up the iPad to show that he is a warrior too, but of information. Photograph by Will Wilson (Diné/Bilagáana), b. 1969

To better understand their work, I talked to both McNeil and Wilson over the phone. They each shared a bit more about the stories behind their projects and their love of historic photo processes.

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LARRY MCNEIL: The Feather project was initiated by a request from Theresa Harlan [no relation to the author] who was director of the CN Gorman museum in Sacramento. She asked different artists to make work related to the Columbus quincentennial in 1992. I still remember pretty clearly thinking “No, I don’t want to do anything celebrating Columbus.” But on second thought, it would be a great opportunity to do something from the perspective of indigenous people—to tell what that anniversary meant to us.

I spent about ten days photographing people initially, and it just wasn’t working. One morning a friend left a feather on my car door. So there I was standing outside my car just looking at this beautiful feather, and I thought, “This might be a metaphorical stand-in for what it means to be an indigenous person living here in the Americas, 500 years after the arrival of Columbus.”

a skull and a feather, with smoke wafting up against the black backdrop
1492, from the Feather series. “The skull is a metaphor for death here, but if you look beyond the obvious you can recognize a beauty and humility that is completely unique to a human skull because after all we all have one, and it has witnessed so much.” Photograph by Larry McNeil (Tlingit/Nisga’a), b. 1955
a feather up close, the definition of the quill emphasized by the tonal range of hte platinum print
Elders, from the Feather series Photograph by Larry McNeil (Tlingit/Nisga’a), b. 1955

MCNEIL (continued): The image titled 1491 is about how the Americas were before Columbus’s arrival. I like to imagine what would have happened had he never arrived here, especially as humanity is in the midst of this ecological nightmare. Native American people prized sustainability. They were able to live in the environment without polluting it. We’re at such a unique place in the history of humanity where we can still change things if we want. What’s going on now and in the future is relevant to all of humanity, and thinking of how we can make a visual representation of it using this 19th century process is kind of fun.

Platinum has always seemed magical because it’s handcrafted. You mix the emulsion in the darkroom, and you hand paint it on to the paper. There’s a scientific aspect to platinum, and there’s a part of it that has to do with artistic vision, but there’s a third part to it too. Every once in a while a person will get a completely different look even if they do the process the same way. I can’t explain it, so I just say “Okay, this came down from the photo gods.”

a feather in the foreground and a smaller feather in the distance, against a black backdrop
Circle of Rebirth, from the Feather series. “I can easily imagine a kind of inferred sunrise where the landscape is still shrouded in darkness, yet there is a hint of light on the horizon.” Photograph by Larry McNeil (Tlingit/Nisga’a), b. 1955

WILL WILSON: I’ve asked myself if there’s a difference in the way that Native Americans think about photography. It reminds me of the adage that the Native Americans didn’t want to be photographed because they thought their souls were going to be stolen. I think they had a really complex understanding of the power of representation. For someone to actually walk away with this perfect image of them was problematic. Like “Okay so what are you doing to do with that?” If anything I think that’s why people had a suspicion about the process.

Nakotah LaRance, Citizen of the Hopi Nation, 6-Time World Champion Hoop Dancer, equipped with a game console, earphones, and a Japanese graphic novel, with a dance hoop slung across his body
Nakotah LaRance is a citizen of the Hopi Nation, six-time World Champion Hoop Dancer, and member of Dancing Earth Indigenous Contemporary Dance Creations. He is equipped with a game console, earphones, a Japanese graphic novel, and a dance hoop, to signal that he is both a traditional dancer and a fan of popular culture; he resists easy categorization. Photograph by Will Wilson (Diné/Bilagáana), b. 1969

WILSON (continued): Understanding the problematic history and the way photography was used [to portray American Indians] put me in a pickle as a photographer. I didn’t feel like it was good practice for me to be putting up images of other folks, particularly Native Americans. So in a way my project, the Critical Indigenous Photographic Exchange (CIPX), is the perfect solution because it’s about an exchange. It’s thinking about representation. It’s about slow photography. I’m walking people through the process of what it means to have their photo taken.

The folks I photograph can come into my portable darkroom and be a part of the whole process. There’s a moment I never get tired of: When you put the tintype, which starts as a negative, into the fixer, it transforms from a negative to a positive because the fixer removes the unexposed silver. People are amazed by that. I get to relive it every time I do the process with a new person. I’m doing pretty much the same process that was created in 1851, and there’s some magic to it that I think people are really excited about. I’ve done maybe 2,000 of these now, and they’re all unique, and I can kind of remember each one.

Cory Van Zytveld, a woman with red hair and freckles, seen in black and white
Cory Van Zytveld is a US Citizen. Wilson notes that the photographic emulsion is less sensitive to reds, browns, and oranges, and that Cory’s freckles appear to be darker and more prominent in this image than in normal daylight. Photograph by Will Wilson (Diné/Bilagáana), b. 1969
Zig Jackson, Citizen of the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara Nation, Professor of Photography, Savannah College of Art and Design, holding a camera
Zig Jackson is a citizen of the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara Nation, and a professor of photography at the Savannah College of Art and Design. Photograph by Will Wilson (Diné/Bilagáana), b. 1969

After hearing from McNeil and Wilson, I knew I needed to go see the prints in person. Tucked away in a corner of the NMAI, I spent a few hours admiring the photographs, which all displayed hints of the human hand. At times, I couldn’t tell whether McNeil’s images were photographic prints or charcoal drawings. And Wilson’s photos are so elegantly detailed, but with an intentional kind of imperfection that reminded me of the serendipity innate to analog processes. These indications of the handmade reminded me that that the images weren’t just created by machines but by flesh and blood, propelled by a dedication to working out the stories of the past and creating space for conversations about the future. Their medium of choice reminds us that the conversation, though sometimes surprising, is certain to continue.

a feather held up to a black sky with a jet trail in it
1992, from the Feather series “1992 represents a future denied us in 1492. A kind of reminder that indigenous people have a future that they can make their own.” Photograph by Larry McNeil (Tlingit/Nisga’a), b. 1955
Will Wilson, Citizen of the Navajo Nation, Trans-Customary Diné Artist, in profile
William Wilson is a citizen of the Navajo Nation. He characterizes himself as a “trans-customary artist.” Photograph by Will Wilson (Diné/Bilagáana), b. 1969

Visit Indelible at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C., on view from June 7, 2014-January 5, 2015. McNeil and Wilson will be in the Potomac Atrium of the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. on Saturday, October 25 and Sunday, October 26th. Wilson will create tinthype portraits of museum visitors for CIPX on Saturday and display the results on Sunday. McNeil will show digital work from Washington, D.C. and invite others to upload their own work to his site.
 
See more work from Larry McNeil and Will Wilson on their websites.

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