About Paul Kane (1810-1871)--Canadian Painter of "Scalp Dance by Spokane Indians"
Diane Eaton and Sheila Urbanek
Paul Kane devoted a lifetime to recording a wilderness world known as the 'Great Nor-West.' From 1845 to 1848, Kane crisscrossed the northwest quadrant of North America, sketching and painting everywhere he went. Kane's travels are the stuff of legend. He endured extremes of heat and cold, suffered dangers and braved adversity, and forced himself to the limit time and again in order to document the lives of Native peoples of North America.
Determined to make a lasting record of the North American Indian, the thirty-five-year-old artist Paul Kane set out in 1845 to cross the continent 'with no companions but my portfolio and box of paints, my gun, and a stock of ammunition.' Travelling with unbelievable resolution on foot and on horseback, by fur-trade canoe, dog team, and snowshoe, he made his way from the Great Lakes to the Pacific coast and back again, documenting the lives and customs of nearly eighty Indian tribes in the territory romantically known as the Great Nor-West.
What drove Kane across the continent was his belief that this almost unknown wilderness would soon be destroyed by European westward expansion. In many ways, Kane's premise was confirmed by his experiences in the West. In the spring of 1846, he witnessed one of the last great buffalo hunts along what is now the Manitoba-Dakota border. Within a few years, time, the vast herds were no more and a centuries-old way of life based on the buffalo hunt was fading away. Kane's eerie ride through a scattering of human bones on Long Grass Prairie was but one of many reminders of the tragic decimation of Native peoples from smallpox, tuberculosis, and a host of other deadly diseases brought by European traders and missionaries.
In the spring of 1847, Kane travelled the Pacific coast, sketching canoes and cedar lodges, making watercolours of medicine masks and burial sites, taking portraits of important chiefs along Juan de Fuca Strait, and trading for blankets, masks, rattles, tools, and many other objects from the Northwest coast. These sketches and artifacts are now considered one of the most important ethnological records of the Native cultures of the Northwest.
Kane returned to his Toronto studio in the fall of 1848, carrying with him some five hundred pencil, watercolour, and oil-on-paper field sketches, as well as a remarkable collection of Indian 'Curiosities.' Using the sketches and artifacts as raw material, Kane painted a cycle of one hundred oils depicting scenes of Indian life. Carefully composed and executed in accordance with nineteenth-century standards of taste, these impressive canvases assured Kanes reputation as an artist. Less widely known but perhaps of greater interest to contemporary viewers are the field sketches that Kane brought back from the West.
From Paul Kanes Great Nor-West. Vancouver: UBC Press, 1995. Copyright © 1995 by UBC Press.
Robert Ruby and John Brown
The artist Paul Kane, enjoying the hospitality of the mission for a week in September, 1847, noted that its occupants were "happily located," and that the Spokanes treated them with great affection and respect. "No influence, however," he wrote, "seems to be able to make agriculturists of them, as they still pursue their hunting and fishing, evincing the greatest dislike to anything like manual labor." The spectacular Kettle Falls and its natives caught his artist's eye, as it had every traveler in those parts. Kane wrote that, like salmon battering themselves to death against the falls, "suicide prevails more among the Indians of the Columbia River than in any other portion of the continent which I have visited." As he saw it, the deaths were largely the aftermath of gambling losses.
Before leaving the falls, Kane dropped down to the nearby village of Kettle Falls (Chualpay) Indians to paint his now-famous "Scalp Dance by Spokane Indians" in oils on canvas [see below]. Its central figure, a woman who had lost her husband to the Blackfeet, whirled around a fire swashing and kicking in revenge a Blackfoot scalp on a stick. Behind her, eight painted women danced and chanted, as did the rest of the tribe to the beat of drums.
From The Spokane Indians: Children of the Sun. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1970. Copyright © by U of Oklahoma P.
On the 17th of September I returned again to Colville. The Indian village is situated about two miles below the fort, on a rocky eminence overlooking the Kettle Falls. These are the highest in the Columbia River. They are about one thousand yards across, and eighteen feet high. The immense body of water tumbling amongst the broken rocks renders them exceedingly picturesque and grand. The Indians have no particular name for them, giving them the general name of Tumtum, which is applied to all falls of water. The voyageurs call them the "Chaudiére," or "Kettle Falls," from the numerous round holes worn in the solid rocks by loose boulders. These boulders, being caught in the inequalities of rocks below the falls, are constantly driven round by the tremendous force of the current, and wear out holes as perfectly round and smooth as in the inner surface of a cast-iron kettle. The village has a population of about five hundred souls, called, in their own language, Chualpays. They differ but little from the Walla-Wallas. The lodges are formed of mats of rushes stretched on poles. A flooring is made of sticks, raised three or four feet from the ground, leaving the space beneath it entirely open, and forming a cool, airy, and shady place, in which to hang their salmon to dry.
[. . . .]
A few days before leaving Colville I was informed that the Chualpays were about to celebrate a scalp dance, and accordingly I took my sketch-book and went down to their encampment, where I learned that a small party had returned from a hunting expedition to the mountains, bringing with them, as a present from a friendly tribe, the scalp of a Blackfoot Indian. This to them was a present of inestimable value, as one of their tribe had been killed by a Blackfoot Indian two or three years before, and they had not been able to obtain any revenge for the injury. This scalp, however, would soothe the sorrows of his widow and friends. Accordingly, it was stretched upon a small hoop, and attached to a stick as a handle, and thus carried by the afflicted woman to a place where a large fire was kindled: here she commenced dancing and singing, swaying the scalp violently about and kicking it, whilst eight women, hideously painted, chanted and danced round her and the fire. The remainder of the tribe stood round in a circle, beating drums, and all singing.
Having witnessed the performance for about four or five hours, seeing no variation in it, nor any likelihood of its termination, I returned, deeply impressed with the sincerity of a grief which could endure such violent monotony for so long a period.
From Wanderings of an Artist among the Indians of North America from Canada to Vancounvers Island and Oregon through Hudsons Bay Companys Territory and Back Again. Toronto: The Radisson Society of Canada, Ltd., 1925. [Originally published in 1859]
Kane and Imperialistic Discourse
In the author's preface to Wanderings of an Artist Among the Indians of North America (1851) Paul Kane lays out the acknowledged limits of his project to illustrate in visual and written texts the manners and customs of the aborigines in their original state, and to represent the scenery of an almost unknown country. Comparing his travels to those of the gold rush taking place at the time of publication, Kane establishes precedence for his trip, both chronologically and for its relative isolation in "those wild scenes amongst which I strayed almost alone, and scarcely meeting a white man or hearing the sound of my own language." Kane's account of this solitary adventure, accompanied as it is by anywhere from one to 70 Indian or Metis guides, is but one example of the literature of manners and customs that negotiated and codified the difference of indigenous people during the imperialist expansion of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Much of this travel and exploration writing represents the native people in a kind of timeless suspension, even while the protagonist's adventure is narrated temporally. Kane's representations of beliefs, customs, and habits are no exception and take two basic forms. One is the explanation of some otherwise inexplicable behaviour as the product of a ridiculous and superstitious belief. The other is the account of habits as they relate to mundane activitieshow a fish was cooked or caught, how utensils or canoes were made, and so on. In these accounts the experiencing and perceiving author is completely suppressed, the information appears to have no social and historical condition of production, and the activity is often described in a suspended tense.
"During the season the Chinooks are engaged in gathering camas and fishing, they live in lodges constructed by means of a few poles covered with mats made of rushes, which can be easily moved from place to place, but in the villages they build permanent huts of split cedar boards. Having selected a dry place for the hut, a hole is dug about three feet deep, and about twenty feet square. Round the sides square cedar boards are sunk and fastened together with cords and twisted roots, rising about four feet above the outer level; two posts are sunk at the middle of each end with a crotch at the top, on which the ridge pole is laid, and boards are laid from thence to the top of the upright boards fastened in the same manner. Round the interior are erected sleeping places, one above another, something like the berths in a vessel, but larger. In the centre of this lodge the fire is made, and the smoke escapes through a hole left in the roof for that purpose."
This passage is typical in the way that it describes an activity in which a human presence is minimalised: "a hole is dug, boards are sunk, the ridge pole is laid." The information is also stripped of its context of production, the wandering artist is scarcely visible; the language of information is self-effacing. Only rarely is Kane the object of curiosity and attention in this text. Elsewhere it is obvious that his knowledge was secured by exchange (tobacco for a sketching session); by violence (the beating of guides and workers on the trip secures the reliable behaviour crucial to white survival); by translators; by the Hudson's Bay Company's penetration of the country and its interpellation of Indian peoples in capitalist social relations.
The text repeatedly deals with violence, of Indian to Indian, tribe to tribe, and Indian to whites. These representations consistently ascribe some sort of logic or limit to murderthe reasons for murder (the punishment for stealing from a burial site, a sacrifice for the death of a chief, cannibalism in the face of starvation, etc.) rendering predictableor at least comprehensible the unpredictable safety of a white man confronted by difference. Once, having left some of his property at the previous night's camp, Kane sent his guide back and alone encountered four Indian men who scrutinized him for three hours: "As I sat upon the packs taken from the horse, nodding in silence, with a fixed stare at them whichever way they turned, my double-barreled gun cocked, across my knees, and a large red beard (an object of great wonder to all Indians) hanging half way down my breast, I was no doubt, a very good embodiment of their idea of a scoocoom or evil genius. To this I attributed my safety, and took a good care not to encourage their closer acquaintance, as I had no wish to have my immortality tested by them."
Unlike the rather unpeopled descriptions of buildings, artifacts, and customs, many of Kane' s paintings and sketches are portraits. Ramsay Cook points out a difference between the sketches and the paintings (see below) , but perhaps the most remarkable difference in modes of representation occurs between the visual and written text in Wanderings of an Artist. The written text registers Kane's unease, and even repulsion, in a way that neither paintings nor sketches do. Chapter XII , for example, describes in succession the Chinook practice of binding infants' heads to shape them; slavery among them ("of the most abject description"); the barbarous language of this tribe ("the horrible, harsh, spluttering sounds which proceed from their throats, apparently unguided either by tongue or lip"); and their "filthy" habits ("their persons abounding with vermin and one of the chief amusements consists in picking these disgusting insects from each other heads and eating them"). This section is part of the individuation of the tribes, presenting the particularities of the Chinooks. the Walla Walla, the Cowlitz, and so on; the specificity of tribal cultures is offset by the constants of "savage" behaviour. According to the text these are laziness, filthiness, uncontrollable gambling, and alcohol addiction, the latter "turning savages into dangerous animals." As in other Victorian representations of the working class, the poor and the "floating population," this lack of self-control is the object of intervention, in this case by the Hudson's Bay Company, the missionaries, the travellers who employ Indian guides, and the state.
The visual representations are articulated with the written text, which often includes a description of the sketching session or elaborates some details of the sitter's life. The il1ustrations in the text are referred to as sketches, even though they are chromo-lithographs produced after paintings that were made in the decade following the end of the trip. This re-working of sketches is effaced by the written text (just as the writing of the text is also effacedmany sections are not to be found in the original travelogue), and in its place an immediate correspondence between visual and written is produced. The visual acts as evidence of the written encounter, and the truth of the former is secured through representations of the sitter's fear or respect for the sketches. However, a closer look at one portrait, in particular, indicates just how re-worked these "sketches" (book illustrations) were. Sketch No.110 of a Flathead Woman and Child would conventionally be understood as a romantic version of Indian life. It is obvious that the composition is a combination of at least two sketches made on the trip (now belonging to the Stark Foundation). One is of a Chinook infant having its head shaped, the other is a profile of a woman belonging to the Cowli tribe, who also shaped their heads. These are sketches of two tribes, taken from two sketching sessions. However, the published journal entry that corresponds with the published Image constructs a unity for itit is the product of one sketching session in which the woman feared the power of the sketch. Further, the portrait, in a typical mother and child format, raises questions about whether this should be understood as a romanticized version of Indian life, or whetheron the contraryit was read as a nineteenth century indictment of Indian culture. The nineteenth century witnessed the emergence of the bourgeois family, with children becoming more and more the object of intensifying emotional bonds and adult, legal, and philanthropic protection. In that context, can it be assumed that such an image would not be received with curious revulsion? Questions must be raised about the historical readings of these images, questions that disrupt the generalities of a benign Victorian romanticism and attend rather to the particularities of both the representations and their historical moments of reception.
Clearly Paul Kane's work cannot be understood on a formal or biographical level without completely obscuring its part in an imperialist and racist discourse. The paintings and sketches have been the privileged objects of art historical attention, but this valorising of the visual fails to recognise the written text of which these were an integral part, and in which his work had its widest circulation. Indeed, these texts were productive. They did not merely repeat already-held racist viewsthey produced an imperialist discourse. In a recent article, Raising Kane, Ramsay Cook suggests that Paul Kane's sketches represent Indian life as it "was really lived" in works of ethnological accuracy and aesthetic appeal" and that the paintings, so overtly made to a patron's request, represented Indians as the "leaders of Canadian society hoped to remember them in the not-too-distant-future." Cook's reference to ethnological accuracy connotes scientific status for the art objects, but neglects to acknowledge that the emergence of ethnology itself depended on the manners and customs literature to which Kane contributed. Ramsay Cook's view, that the works made during the trip sketch life as it was really lived, is a notion that is consistently negotiated throughout the journal itself. The status of these sketches and likenesses as accurate is secured in the text by the representation of an Indian's awe for the likeness, and consequently the attribution of magical properties either to the likeness (the second self) or to, Kane. The gap between the referent (which is, after all, only known through its representation) and the representation is closed via the subject's own excessive verification. Truth, accuracy, realism: all are thus produced in the written text for the visual.
Clearly this archive is not a sketch of life as it really was, a document of Indians in their original state, but neither is it simply the perception of Indians through European filters. Kane's gaze, of observation and of knowledge, his sketches, paintings, and writings are deeply implicated in, and constitutive of, power.
In The Eye of Power Foucault outlines an historical shift from qualities of monarchic power to a kind of power made necessary by the economic changes of the eighteenth century. The conjuncture of an increasingly mobile population to be supervised and manipulated and a growth in the apparatus of production necessitated that the effects of power circulated through ever-finer channels, reaching individuals and their daily activities. This change from sporadic and spectacular power to a technology of power that is continuous and fluid within the social body and on minute levels within it is intimately bound up with the practice of surveillance, discipline, and the production of knowledge. Foucault insists that knowledge and power are linked in mutually reinforcing relationships.
Foucault deals mainly with institutions, but this work is pertinent to the study of other centres and practices of observation within the social totalityand to the network of referrals, complementarities, and articulations between discourses and practices having different modalities of observation, power, and knowledge. It is also important to note that Foucault insists that these strategies of observation and discipline were invented and developed according to local urgencies and conditions; Kane ' s can be seen as one such instance.
It is from this point that a study of Paul Kane's work, of his painting, sketches, and Wanderings of an Artist Among the Indians of North America must come to terms with a myriad complexitieswith the social relations of the production of these representations and their knowledges, with their conditions of existence, with the social relations of their circulation and reception, and with their effects. These will not be simple, reducible to the distortions of the Victorian imagination, for example, but complex, fractured, and over-determined. They have to do with the articulation of power and knowledge, with technologies of observation, classification, investigation and surveillance, and with the particularities of an imperialist discourse. To write this history does not retrieve a nineteenth century other, but it refuses the benevolence customarily accorded to Kane's work in Canadian art history.
from "Paul Kane and the Eye of Power: Racism in Canadian Art History." Vanguard (September, 1986)
Paintings by Paul Kane
Scalp Dance by Spokane Indians
"Cree Chief 'Man Who Gives the War-Whoop'" (1848)
Assiniboine Hunting Buffalo c. 1851-1856
Paul Kane--Self Portrait
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