Dissenting the master narrative.
A tour of Art in Native America:
The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection
By Maya Love. For MUSEUMS 704A Exhibiting Cultures – Māori and Indigenous Perspectives , Semester One 2019. Grade: A+
Alice Procter guides Uncomfortable Art Tours through British museums as an act of dissent. She begins by describing an object, how it is displayed and how it might have arrived in a museum. Using visual analysis as a point of entry, she opens the door to discuss the museum as a colonial institute. Her tours address and challenge destructive methods of curating historical trauma and national identity. Procter asserts British art is “the history of empire and genocide, written by collectors who traded in landscapes and lives.”[1] Her statement is true, and moreover, it applies to many collections throughout Europe and the United States.
In the guise of a tour script, this essay will consider unauthorised tours as a form of dissent within museums. This tour will address the first three rooms of Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection, on display at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. It will specifically engage with issues of display and provenance in relation to the repatriation of human remains.
We are gathered on the unceded land of the Lenape, Manahatin, Canarsie, Shinnecock and Munsee peoples. I ask you to join me in acknowledging these communities, their elders both past and present, as well as future generations. I do not speak for The Metropolitan Museum of Art, but on this tour, we will acknowledge that it was founded upon exclusions and erasures of many Indigenous peoples. This acknowledgement demonstrates a commitment to the ongoing process of working to dismantle the legacies of settler colonialism.
In the words of Ojibwa writer and storyteller, Lenore Keeshig-Tobias. “When someone else is telling your stories in effect what they’re doing is defining to the world who you are, what you are, and what they think you are and what they think you should be.”[2] As we move through this space, consider who is narrating the stories.
We stand at the entry to Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection. We are confronted by a map [fig.1] which divides North America by state lines and seven geographical regions; the Great Basin, the Plains and so on. This map serves as an introduction, a kind of contextualising device to aid our viewing of the objects in the rooms ahead. This map does not, however, indicate the fifty Indigenous groups represented in the exhibit, nor any of the 580 federally recognised Native American tribes. The wall-text even states that these "culture area designations are less relevant" today. So why is it the first thing we see?
The exhibition comprises 116 works from the Diker collection. Some are loans, others are promised gifts or donations on the condition that they are "presented as American art rather than tribal art…to recontextualise what we define as American culture." [3] The curator, Gaylord Torrence echoes this statement and argues that by showing the exhibit within the American Wing, Native art is “presented on an equal footing with Euro-American painting, sculpture and decorative arts.”[4] Making your way to this map, you either have to walk through eighteenth-century federal furniture or classical Greek sculpture.[5] On one hand, our journey to this space positions Art of Native America within the context of Euro-American art history. Yet, when confronted by this map, we are seeing Native land described by non-Native terms and we are literally flanked, on all sides by reminders of hegemony.
During a discussion at a Met Roundtables event, Tuscarora scholar Jolene Rickard posed the audience a question: “Indigenous nations in the Americas would argue that this exhibition should not be characterised as being within the American wing, but the American wing is within Indigenous America. What would that map look like?”[6] Rickard speaks to the improvement of curatorial practices so that they serve Indigenous peoples. This map does not achieve that, instead it erases Indigenous voices in favour of the master narrative and describe diverse communities with umbrella terms that omit diversity.
The tensions regarding the inclusion of the map are symptomatic of the vast divide between what the producers of this exhibit say it is doing, and what its methods of display actually tell us. Sylvia Yount, the curator in charge of the American Wing says The Met is “committed to exploring thoughtfully and sensitively the entangled histories of contact and colonisation,” however the focus on aesthetic quality in this exhibit obscures those histories.[7] This Anishinaabe shoulder bag [fig.2] is adorned with a turtle, Thunderbird and a human figure. The wall text tells us that these are made of porcupine quills. The bottom edge is lined with metal cones and deer hair. Presented in a glass case [fig.3], we have significant access to admire these formal details. Most of the works in this exhibition are presented in this fashion, which evokes a sense of masterpiece in each one. But this display is also cold, isolating and divorced from any indication of how the bag would be worn, or by whom.
The text reveals that Peter Jones, an Anishinaabe Methodist minister was photographed wearing the pouch in 1845.[8] The Dikers began collecting in the 1970s, which leaves a significant gap in the provenance of the bag.[9] All of these objects were made during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and have therefore witnessed one of the most violent acts of dispossession and cultural genocide in global history. The Indian Removal Act was signed in 1830, only three decades after this bag was made. This policy is the Trail of Tears which forced tens of thousands of Native Americans out of their lands at gunpoint, leading to the deaths of over 5000 people. The objects in this exhibit are inextricably linked to that trauma.
When this exhibit opened, it was heavily criticised by Native Americans. Shannon O’Loughlin, the executive director of the Association on American Indian Affairs declared, “most of these items are not art: they are ceremonial or funerary objects that belong with their original communities and could only have ended up in a private collection through trafficking and looting.”[10] She speaks to the illegal removal of Native American remains and burial goods during the scramble for objects during the nineteenth century. These objects were the focus of ethnographic studies which furthered damaging stereotypes about Indigenous peoples. The Dikers maintain that their collection is “preserving a culture and an aesthetic,” [11] but without the inclusion of historical context and provenance, the display of these objects erases historical trauma for the sake of aesthetics.
In this next room, we are surrounded by glass cases; on the right is a shaman’s rattle [fig.4 and 5] and on the left is a dagger [fig, 6 and 7]. Both objects feature a human face; the wall text for the rattle suggests “a spirit or the shaman himself”[12] and the text of the dagger describes a “face of a shaman in a trance state”.[13] Without any research, it is clear that these objects possess personal and spiritual value. What is less clear is that they both contain human hair. On the rattle, it is visible emerging along the crest of the head and on the dagger, it is wound into the fibres around the handle. When an object involves human remains, the issue of provenance develops a sinister quality. Mihesuah explains that generally speaking, the “unearthing of skeletal remains and funerary objects is disruptive” and for some tribes, if remains are uncovered, the spirit may not find peace.[14] She speaks to a fundamental lack of understanding around the sacredness of objects and religious duty within museum displays.
The display of human remains in this exhibition should be considered a violation of ethical practice. The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, otherwise known as NAGPRA “obligates museums receiving federal funds to have their holdings of Native American objects and human remains inventoried and to allow Native American tribes the right to repatriation.”[15] Many of the objects are loans or promised gifts of the Dikers, therefore they are still privately owned and conveniently slip past the requirements of NAGPRA. Although there are no skeletal remains in this exhibit, I urge you to see all corporeal remains equally. They are traces of a person that no longer walks this earth. Additionally, it is only a short walk to the Egyptian galleries where numerous grave goods and mummified human remains are displayed with the same disregard. Cherokee scholar, Karen Coody Cooper explains that due to cultural beliefs and practices, some American Indians cannot enter buildings that house deceased humans.[16] Within this cultural understanding, The Met renders their exhibits off-limits to many Native Americans by displaying human remains.
In addition to being ethically objectionable, the display of these objects is an act of religious oppression. Vine Deloria Jr writes that in the view of many museum professionals, beliefs relating to the dead or spirits of the dead are “wholly superstition.” It “denies the possibility or importance of afterlife and limits human responsibilities to tangible things that we can touch.”[17] This secularist approach, characterised as civic religion denies the religious duty of Indigenous communities to their ancestors and their objects, in favour of the state. The rattle and dagger are undeniably spiritual objects, and their display under the guise of aesthetic brilliance ignores their value to the Tsimshian and Tlingit peoples.
At the other end of this room, we see a Chugach mask [fig. 8]. Its display speaks to the indifference toward sacred duty mentioned by Deloria and Mihesuah. The text tells us that it is unusual to see one because they are typically "destroyed, hidden or buried with the deceased".[18] This object was not made for display. It is possible, and I would argue extremely likely that the Chugach mask was a burial good that was stolen. If this is true, the natural course is for it to be offered for repatriation so that Chugach leaders can look after it in the appropriate manner.
Repatriation is the only course of action that allows for the proper spiritual care of human remains and ceremonial objects. For James Riding In, repatriation advocates that “American Indians receive what virtually every other group of Americans enjoys; that is, the right to religious freedom and a lasting burial.”[19] These feelings are apparent in the conversation I am about to relate, recorded by Megan Elevado, under her persona Marabou at the Museum.
The following took place at a Q and A session after a lecture from Charles and Valerie Diker on October 5, 2018. Emily Johnson from the Yup’ik nation in Alaska called for the Dikers to offer their collection for repatriation. She explained the living nature of the objects; “many of them need to be sung to, they need to be fed, some need to be buried, some need to be burned”. Johnson maintained that only the leaders of Native communities can care for the objects and offered repatriation as a chance for the Dikers to be real leaders in their field. She asked if there was an inventory of all potential NAGPRA material and if a repatriation coordinator was available at The Met. Valerie responded by asserting that the items still belong to Charles and herself. She claimed they had been sensitive regarding NAGPRA. Charles followed up by stating the provenance had been listed in the show.[20] The assertion of white ownership is characteristic of selective amnesia which The Dikers, and by extension, The Met has used as a way to negate the importance of religious duty and avoid discussing provenance and repatriation.
Provenance cannot be reduced to a vague geographical area. The lack of provenance indicates the likelihood of unethical acquisition. The objects around us are inextricably linked to the violence they have witnessed. Cooper asserts that “it is a common misconception that Native Americans freely gave or sold ceremonial objects no longer valued by them to museums.”[21] Under this misconception, she maintains that people rationalise that collectors and museums should be able to use and display items as they see fit. The exhibit endorses the concept of white ownership by excluding information which would cast a negative light upon the collectors and their incentive for displaying these objects. The incentive that the Dikers maintain is one of public education.
Educational rhetoric is promoted, but what we are meant to be learning is unclear. The Met was founded in 1870 “to bring art and art education to the American people.”[22] Similarly, Charles Diker claims the display of his collection is because he and Valerie are “deeply committed to its educational value”.[23] The public display of the Diker collection provides a vehicle for discussion, but the information made available in the space leaves a lot to be desired regarding the relationship between Native American objects and colonisation. The positioning as high-art is also problematic because it defines Native American values within a vocabulary and setting that was not built for them. This raises an issue identified by Cooper, "who controls and/or defines American Indian art."[24] Who is telling this story?
The argument that objects should be displayed for educational purposes and therefore not repatriated, is rhetoric rooted in anthropology. Mihesuah notes the tradition of claiming ownership of Native American remains for the purposes of study and refers to them as "tools of education".[25] Along the same thread, James Riding In considers the need to retain objects for preservation a “pervasive attitude” amongst museums to “keep repressive and archaic ideas alive.” The ‘education’ and ‘preservation’ mentalities suggest Native American communities are unable to care for their objects and also propagates stereotypes of indigenous peoples as vanishing or already extinct.
To actively posit Native American remains as resources is a trait of settler colonialism. This term denies that colonialism is a thing of the past and concedes that settlers continue to displace indigenous peoples and perpetuate systems that “erase native lives, cultures and histories.”[26] Settler colonialism is present in the organisation of this exhibit; in its failure to use the diverse languages of Native American peoples; in the lack of consultation with indigenous communities; in crediting only three Native Americans on the exhibition's advisory panel.[27] Settler colonialism is the justification of the display of these objects as being necessary for education and preservation. It is evident in the collectors flouting of Native people’s requests for repatriation. Settler colonialism is showing Native American objects in a public gallery with no accountability placed upon the people that stole them.
Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection does not recontextualise American culture. It displaces Native American objects within a nationalist discourse that benefits the patrons and institution, ultimately causing harm to Indigenous communities. Cooper states “museums (whether they intend to be) are nation builders” and the values instilled through their collections “propel citizens towards a shared understanding.”[28] This exhibit tells viewers that it is wonderful to look at the aesthetic quality of these objects, as long as you leave out the painful truths of their histories. It tells us that Native Americans are diverse, but only as much as seven geographical areas can distinguish. It tells us that it is okay for museums to display objects that should be laid to rest. The curatorial process behind displays that include Native American objects, especially human remains, needs to change. Christopher Green maintains “inclusion alone is not decolonization.”[29] Including Native American art within the American Wing does not automatically absolve historical trauma.
James Riding In provided a series of ideas to aid the decolonisation of NAGPRA, but I feel that they are also relevant in decolonising the museum space. They include “understanding traditional knowledge and customs regarding the proper treatment of the dead”, understanding and respecting religious duty, comprehending the history of grave looting and its relationships to other aspects of colonialism, rejecting scientific methodologies and principles that violate Native burial rights, values and beliefs.[30] He values understanding as a means of moving forward, and I would add that sensitivity is also integral to better practices throughout museums. It is the responsibility of museums to consult and implement the advice of indigenous peoples, to actively and considerately respond to repatriation requests and to do away with the master narrative. Indigenous nations in the Americas should be given a platform to re-write American culture and articulate their own story. What might that exhibition look like?
[1] Procter, “Uncomfortable Art Tours.”
[2] Cooper, Spirited Encounters: American Indians Protest Museum Policies and Practices, 1.
[3] Angeleti, “Metropolitan Museum of Art reclassifies status of Native American art for new exhibition.”
[4] Torrence, “Reconsidering American Art; Charles and Valerie Diker,” 120.
[5] In reference to The James and Margaret Carter Federal Gallery and The Israel Sack Classical Galleries.
[6] Rickard and Glass, “Boundaries in Native America.”
[7] The Met, “Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker.” Collection.”
[8] The Met, “Shoulder bag (missing strap).”
[9] Torrence, 121.
[10] Angeleti, “Native American group denounces Met’s exhibition of indigenous objects.”
[11] Angeleti, "Metropolitan Museum of Art reclassifies status.”
[12] The Met, “Shaman’s rattle.”
[13] The Met, “Dagger.”
[14] Mihesuah, “American Indians, Anthropologists, Pothunters and Repatriation: Ethical, Religious and Political Differences,” 99.
[15] Angeleti, “Native American group denounces Met.” Also, Riding In, “Repatriation: A Pawnee’s Perspective,” 112.
[16] Cooper, 81.
[17] Deloria, “Secularism, Civil Religion, and the Religious Freedom of American Indians,” 176.
[18] The Met, “Mask.”
[19] Riding In, “A Pawnee’s Perspective,” 108.
[20] Marabou at the Museum, “Art of Native America: The Collection of Charles and Valerie Diker at The Met.”
[21] Cooper, 32
[22] The Met, “A Brief History of the Museum.”
[23] Torrence, 122.
[24] Cooper, 51.
[25] Mihesuah, 98.
[26] Cox, “Settler colonialism.”
[27] The Met, “Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection.”
[28] Cooper, 2.
[29] Green, “Beyond Inclusion.”
[30] Riding In, “Decolonizing NAGPRA,” 61.
Bibliography;
Angeleti, Gabriella. “Metropolitan Museum of Art reclassifies status of Native American art for new exhibition.” The Art Newspaper, October 2, 2018. https://www.theartnewspaper.com/preview/met-reclassifies-status-of-nativeamerican-art
Angeleti, Gabriella. “Native American group denounces Met’s exhibition of indigenous objects.” The Art Newspaper, November 6, 2018. https://www.theartnewspaper.com/news/native-american-group-denouncesmet-s-exhibition-of-indigenous-objects
Cooper, Karen Coody. Spirited Encounters: American Indians Protest Museum Policies and Practices. Lanham, Maryland: AltaMira Press, 2008.
Cox, Alicia. “Settler colonialism.” Oxford Bibliographies, 17 May, 2019. DOI:10.1093/OBO/9780190221911-0029.
Deloria, Vine. Jr. “Secularism, Civil Religion, and the Religious Freedom of American Indians.” In Repatriation Reader: Who Owns American Indian Remains?, edited by Devon A. Mihesuah, 169-179. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.
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Mihesuah, Devon A, ed. Repatriation Reader: Who Owns American Indian Remains? Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.
Procter, Alice. “Museums are hiding their imperial pasts – which is why my tours are needed.” The Guardian, April 23, 2018. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/apr/23/museumsimperialist-pasts-uncomfortable-art-tours-slavery-colonialism
Procter, Alice. “Uncomfortable Art Tours.” The Exhibitionist. Accessed May 17, 2019. https://www.theexhibitionist.org/
Rickard, Jolene and Aaron Glass. “Boundaries in Native America.” Discussion presented at Met Roundtables, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1 February, 2019, https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/art-of-nativeamerica-diker-collection
Riding In, James. “Decolonizing NAGPRA.” In For indigenous eyes only: a decolonization handbook, edited by Waziyatawin and Michael Yellow Bird, 53-66. Santa Fe, N.M: School of American Research, 2005.
Riding In, James. “Repatriation: A Pawnee’s Perspective.” In Repatriation Reader: Who Owns American Indian Remains?, edited by Devon A. Mihesuah, 106-120. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.
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The Metropolitan Museum of Art. “Dagger.” Accessed May 23, 2019. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/717584?&exhibitionId=%7b4e31b48b-8641-4ecf-a668-093cba7cfaf2%7d&oid=717584&pkgids=518&pg=0&rpp=20&pos=19&ft=* &offset=20.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art. “Exhibition Galleries.” Accessed May 21, 2019. https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/art-of-nativeamerica-diker-collection/exhibition-galleries.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art. “Mask.” Accessed May 23, 2019. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/717573?&exhibitionId=%7b4e31b48b-8641-4ecf-a668-093cba7cfaf2%7d&oid=717573&pkgids=518&pg=0&rpp=20&pos=47&ft=* &offset=20.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art. “Shoulder bag (missing strap).” Accessed May 23, 2019. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/751507?&exhibitionId=%7b4e31b48b-8641-4ecf-a668093cba7cfaf2%7d&oid=751507&pkgids=518&pg=0&rpp=20&pos=3&ft=*& offset=20.
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Torrence, Gaylord. “Reconsidering American Art; Charles and Valerie Diker.” Tribal people 90, (winter, 2018): 120-129.
About the Author:
Maya graduated in 2020 with First Class Honours in Art History with a dissertation on the phenomenology of the corpse in contemporary art. Putting a pause on the penchant for death, she's currently the Membership Coordinator at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.