StarTribune Sunday, Februar y 18, 2018
VARIET Y / SECTION E
INTERSECTING PASSIONS A Minneapolis man has dedicated his life to the legacy of photographer Edward S. Curtis
By KIM ODE • kim.ode@startribune.com Christopher Cardozo knows why he was put here.
1available to people.”
How does it happen, that people find such clear purpose, then succeed to the point of renown? Where do chance and circumstance intersect? And how does
But we could say the same of Curtis — another man who grew to believe their obliteration. While downplaying the expert label, Cardozo will talk, with some emo- that he was born for a purpose. So maybe it’s not so surprising that their paths crossed. Maybe there’s tion, about what his passion has enabled him to accomplish. “I was led to this,” he said, of amassing Curtis’ work. “This is my soul’s something to both of them once having been St. Paul boys. In any case, the result is a celebration. purpose. Why I ended up on Earth at this particular time was to make this work
Edward S. Curtis’ photos of North American Indians, including this Zuni priest photographed in 1903, documented cultures under attack while preserving languages and stories.
This year is the 150th anniversary of Curtis’ birth, an event Cardozo is marking by republishing “The North American Indian,” Curtis’ monumental 20-volume collection of 2,234 photos and more than 5,000 pages of text. He’s also “repatriating” 10,000 of Curtis’ prints to tribal colleges, tribal cultural centers and individuals. The number comes from the approximately 10,000 individuals who posed for Curtis. Giving back honors the idea that Indians were “co-creators” as the tribes sought out Curtis to document their endangered existence. “This was a time when people were openly advocating for the extermination of tribes,” Cardozo said. “Curtis was totally impassioned. He so believed in what he was doing and the importance of it that he was preserving a legacy, a record, an understanding,” Cardozo said. But also, beauty. “ ‘Ineffable’ is the word that comes to mind when trying to give people a sense of the body of his work,” Cardozo said. “We all know when you look at a work of beauty, there’s a healing. Well, that’s what was happening with Curtis and his subjects. He was a very present person, and they were, too. You can see it in their eyes. They were co-creators in this work.” Some Indians disagree, finding Curtis’ description of a “vanishing” culture to be presumptuous, or his recreation of the past overly romantic or manipulative. Critics condemn his work as a paternalistic appropriation of Indian culture by white men, even as the project left Curtis bankrupt. Cardozo believes that Curtis’ motives were honest, his connections sincere — and that higher forces played a role. “When I talk about the photos,” he said, “I say they are matter imbued by spirit.”
this way back in 1972, when he first laid eyes on some Curtis prints in Boulder, Colo. All he knew was that the images made him start reaching for the credit card his father had lent him for emergencies. The card was a parental safety net, given when Cardozo, freshly graduated with a degree in photography and film, left for an Indian village in Mexico’s Sierra Madre Mountains, a village so remote that residents believed they lived on an island. For six months, he documented a place that was losing its way, rife with alcoholism and poverty. He took photos in somber, sepia tones. He made friends. He was held at gunpoint. He knew that the experience was changing his life. Heading home to St. Paul, he stopped in Albuquerque, N.M., where a friend said his photos reminded her of Edward Curtis’ work. When Cardozo saw some prints, he experienced a “shock of recognition.” Curtis’ photos were so like those he’d just made. Then, in Boulder, he found a gallery that was carrying some Curtis prints. “I had about 80 pesos to my name,” Cardozo said. With a situational definition of emergency, he pulled out the credit card and bought two photogravures for $35 each. His life as an art dealer began, only for him to learn that it had little effect on his life as a pauper. With stability in mind, he got a law degree — his grandfather Benjamin Cardozo was named to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1932 — but his enthusiasm for the law was dim, at best. Figuring that “I would probably be a walking malpractice suit,” Cardozo committed to being an art dealer. By age 39, he was a happier man, taking his own photos, and collecting and dealing in Curtis’ work. “But I was a subsistence private art deal‘A shock of recognition’ It’s unlikely that Cardozo, now er,” Cardozo said, mirroring Curtis’ life 69, could have put his feelings quite as a subsistence photographer. (More
on that in a moment.) Cardozo decided to go all in with a gallery in Aspen, Colo. His timing was good. “People were becoming more interested in a back-to-the-earth ethos,” he said, while at the same time, fine art photos were finding a market. “People would come in and spend more in an
• An urgency to the work
Edward S. Curtis, born in 1868 near Whitewater, Wis., spent his childhood in southern Minnesota, where his father was an itinerant preacher. At some 2 point, young Edward built his own camera and taught himself photography. By 17, he was working as an apprentice in St. Paul.
afternoon than I’d seen spent in two years.” Then, in 1990, Kevin Costner’s “Dances With Wolves” hit theaters, spurring interest in all things Indian. Cardozo eventually returned to Minnesota and devoted himself to collecting Curtis’ work from the 30 years that he roamed the American West.
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as a time subsistence Granted, the his realization its sweet coming.photographer. (More it feel to experience an almost cosmic connection with a stranger? 69, could have put feelingstook quite But here he is, sitting in an unassuming house near Lake of the Isles, the We’re talking about Cardozo, a gracious man with a white nimbus of hair world’s leading expert on Edward S. Curtis, who was known for his sepia photos who looks entirely at home in corduroy trousers whose tufts long ago wore thin. documenting the lives of North American Indians, at a time when some argued for You can’t enter his home without being offered a cup of tea. their obliteration. But we could say the same of Curtis — another man who grew to believe While downplaying the expert label, Cardozo will talk, with some emo- that he was born for a purpose. tion, about what his passion has enabled him to accomplish. So maybe it’s not so surprising that their paths crossed. Maybe there’s “I was led to this,” he said, of amassing Curtis’ work. “This is my soul’s something to both of them once having been St. Paul boys. An urgency to the work purpose. Why I ended up on Earth at this particular time was to make this work In any case, the result is a celebration. Edward S. Curtis, born in 1868 near Whitewater, Wis., spent his childhood in southern Minnesota, where his father was an itinerant preacher. At some point, young Edward built his own camera and taught himself photography. By 17, he was working as an apprentice inS.St.Curtis’ Paul. photos of North American Indians, including this Zuni priest photographed in 1903, Edward He was earning a nice living as a photographer in Seattle when he rescued documented cultures under attack while preserving languages and stories. a group of lost mountaineers on Washington’s Mount Rainier, where he was taking photos. Several of the men were famed for their work in conservation and Indian culture, which helped Curtis enter a rarefied network, and eventually led to his This year is the 150thofanniverthis way back in 1972, when he first goal of documenting Indians North America. sary of It Curtis’ birth, an event Cardozo laiddream, eyes on somesee Curtis prints in Boulwas, in his own words, “such a big I can’t it all.” is marking bythe republishing NorthTheodore der, Colo. With backing of“The President Roosevelt, Curtis asked financier American monumental All henoting, knew was thatathe images J.P. MorganIndian,” to backCurtis’ the project. Morgan said he would, “I like man who 20-volume of 2,234 photos made him start reaching for the credit attempts thecollection impossible.” and more than 5,000 pages of text. card his father had lent him for emerMorgan was not far off. He’s “repatriating” gencies. In all,also Curtis took more10,000 than 40,000 photos, often of ordinary people of Curtis’ prints to tribal colleges, tribal Thecarefully card was a parental doing ordinary tasks. Many photos were posed or staged, as he safety tried cultural centers net, given when Cardozo, freshly to re-create whatand he individuals. could of traditional culture before it disappeared, whichgradexThe tribes number comes from plained why began seeking himthe out. uated with a degree in photography and approximately 10,000 individuals whoandfilm, an Indian village in—MexCurtis also recorded languages songsleft onfor 10,000 wax cylinders the JEFF WHEELER • jwheeler@startribune.com (bottom) posed for Curtis. Sierra Madre a village tape recorders of theGiving time —back and honors collected ico’s information about Mountains, foods, dialects, spir- Christopher Cardozo, above, calls his regard for photographer Edward S. Curtis, the ideaand thattraditions. Indians were “co-creators” so remote ituality He saw one of the last outlawedthat Sunresidents Dances. believed they top, an almost mythical “Qahatika Girl, 1907,” Cardozo says he’s most proud as the tribes sought Curtis to docuon an island.said. “Ten years earli“There was aout sense of urgency to hislived work,” Cardozo of helping people rediscover the beauty of Curtis’ work, which at times has been ment their endangered For sixhave months, he documenter, he wouldn’t have feltexistence. this. Ten years later, it wouldn’t been there to docu- overshadowed by its ethnographic value. ment.” “This was a time when people ed a place that was losing its way, rife were openly for theofextermiand poverty. HeWar took Whileadvocating the first books photos andwith textalcoholism found an audience, World I nation ofthe tribes,” Cardozo said.Yet Curtis continued photos inhis somber, tones. when He made diverted public’s attention. work sepia until 1928, his was totally impasfriends. was cost heldhim at gunpoint. He constant“Curtis state of insolvency became too much. His He poverty his marriage, sioned. He so believed in what he for wasnervous knewexhaustion that the experience was changing and his health; he was hospitalized for two years after the doing and the importance of it that he his life. project wrapped. was preserving an unhome toinSt. Paul, he He liveda legacy, out thea record, rest of his years quietly Heading with a daughter California, derstanding,” Cardozo said. in Albuquerque, where dying of a heart attack in 1952 at age 84. Astopped brief obituary in the NewN.M., York Times But also, beauty. a friend said his photos reminded her noted his research into Indian history, closing with: “Mr. Curtis was also widely is the word that of Edward Curtis’ work. When Cardoknown as“ ‘Ineffable’ a photographer.” comes to mind when trying to give zo saw some prints, he experienced a people a sense of the body of his work,” “shock of recognition.” Curtis’ photos Cardozo said. “We all know when you were so like those he’d just made. look at a work of beauty, there’s a healThen, in Boulder, he found a ing. Well, that’s what was happening gallery that was carrying some Curtis with Curtis and his subjects. He was a prints. very present person, and they were, too. “I had about 80 pesos to my You can see it in their eyes. They were name,” Cardozo said. With a situational co-creators in this work.” definition of emergency, he pulled out Some Indians disagree, finding the credit card and bought two photoCurtis’ description of a “vanishing” cul- gravures for $35 each. ture to be presumptuous, or his recreHis life as an art dealer began, ation of the past overly romantic or ma- only for him to learn that it had little nipulative. Critics condemn his work as effect on his life as a pauper. on that in a moment.) afternoon than I’d seen spent in two a paternalistic appropriation of Indian With stability in mind, he got Cardozo decided to go all in years.” culture by white men, even as the proj- a law degree — his grandfather Benja- with a gallery in Aspen, Colo. Then, in 1990, Kevin Costner’s ect left Curtis bankrupt. min Cardozo was named to the U.S. “Dances With Wolves” hit theaters, His timing was good. Cardozo believes that Curtis’ Supreme Court in 1932 — but his en“People were becoming more spurring interest in all things Indian. motives were honest, his connections thusiasm for the law was dim, at best. interested in a back-to-the-earth ethos,” Cardozo eventually returned to Minnesincere — and that higher forces played Figuring that “I would probably be he said, while at the same time, fine art sota and devoted himself to collecting a role. a walking malpractice suit,” Cardozo photos were finding a market. “People Curtis’ work from the 30 years that he “When I talk about the pho- committed to being an art dealer. would come in and spend more in an roamed the American West. tos,” he said, “I say they are matter imBy age 39, he was a happier bued by spirit.” man, taking his own photos, and collecting and dealing in Curtis’ work. “But I was a subsistence private art deal‘A shock of recognition’ It’s unlikely that Cardozo, now er,” Cardozo said, mirroring Curtis’ life 69, could have put his feelings quite as a subsistence photographer. 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• 3 An urgency to the work
Edward S. Curtis, born in 1868 near Whitewater, Wis., spent his child-
Refocusing on beauty
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That Curtis, a white man, gained such access remains impressive. He did
pher, he wants people to also see the art. If Cardozo is willing to claim credit for anything, “I believe I was instrumental in changing the conversation about Curtis. He’d been thought of as an
Refocusing on beauty
That Curtis, a white man, gained such access remains impressive. He did vast amounts of research to gain people’s trust. He once described his philosophy as “I worked with them, not at them.” Minnesota writer Louise Erdrich, in Cardozo’s 2015 book, “Edward S. Curtis: 100 Masterworks,” wrote of how Curtis’ images of women were “as disquieting as they are profoundly beautiful. “While these portraits were posed and painstakingly arranged, the liveliness and the spirit of the women always breathes in the image,” wrote Erdrich, who is Ojibwe. While documenting a vanishing culture, “There is a flow of energy in these photographs that carries into the present.” N. Scott Momaday, a Kiowa novelist and Pulitzer Prize winner, has called Curtis’ work “a singular achievement.” In the foreword to the 2005 Curtis book “Sacred Legacy,” Momaday wrote of how a photo of Kiowa people brought him to tears. “I felt that I was looking into a memory in my blood.” That Cardozo similarly has gained the trust and respect of people such as Erdrich and Momaday speaks to the care he’s exerted in enabling Curtis’ work to survive. “It looks like this is about native people, but it’s really about human beings,” Cardozo said, “about the universal truth about being human.” He’s heartened by stories of Indians able to research their culture through the Curtis books he’s published. But, harking back to his own days as a photogra-
pher, he wants people to also see the art. If Cardozo is willing to claim credit for anything, “I believe I was instrumental in changing the conversation about Curtis. He’d been thought of as an ethnographer, taking images of a culture that used to be here in this country and collecting the stories behind the images,” Cardozo said. “But I got people to see his work as the artistic achievement that it was. The platinum prints, the gold tones, the cyanographs — they leave me speechless at times.” The republished “The North American Indian,” in a limited edition of 75 and priced at $28,500, has been selling mostly to collectors, libraries, and museums. Cardozo has been setting up exhibitions and lectures across the country. Several events will be held in the fall at the Minnetonka Center for the Arts and the University of Minnesota. Cardozo also said he’s in preliminary discussions with the university to create a Curtis Center here. “My goal has always been to bring the work in new and different ways to new and different audiences,” he said.\ But with the sesquicentennial, Cardozo also is moving toward bringing his life to a new and different place. “I turn 70 soon,” he said. “And I’ve got to get back to my own photography.”
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DAILY LIFE AND ETERNAL GAZES
More spontaneous photos by Edward S. Curtis such as “Watching the Dancers,” top, from 1906, show young Hopi women with their hair in traditional squash blossom style. “Kutenai Duck Hunter,” from northern Montana in 1910, captures daily life. Portraits were posed, often with clothing illustrating a particular time or tradition, such as “A Tlu’wolahu Mask - Tsawatenok,” above left, and “Bear’s Belly - Arikara, 1908,” bottom left, in a bear skin. In “Chief Joseph - Nez Perce, 1903” above right, much of the time honored chief ’s history shows on his face. The portrait of “Mosa - Mohave, 1903,” bottom right, helped persuade financier J.P. Morgan to fund the project in 1906, according to Timothy Egan’s biography, “Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher.”
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