 Well thank you for coming today. I'd like to welcome Marnah Murray. She's here to talk about Edward Curtis and a man of vision and focus who photographed about 80 Native American tribes. Let's welcome her to West View Meadows. Great Julie, thank you. And I hope I can coordinate all the different technologies here. Good afternoon and welcome on this mid-spring day that still feels like winter but promises of a better weekend. This afternoon I present a program on Edward Curtis. At the turn of the 20th century he photographed and documented the lives of the North American tribes. In 2018, 150 years since his birth, there will be exhibits, lectures and more. For this presentation I have two focuses. One on vision and one on focus. Both of those critical to Curtis's character and his accomplishments. The session will be divided into three parts, each followed by a brief opportunity for questions. First general introduction and information, then his photographs and finally more on his legacy. The middle segment will be primarily the photographs, emphasizing particularly portrait as 40% of his published work in the 20 volume set of the North American Indian is in that format. There will also be some images of humans' subjects in non-portrait format. Further there are four other major categories, landscapes, architecture, livelihoods and artifacts of the North American Indian. Although I recognize that the current nomenclature is Native American, I am going to be somewhat retrospective in using the terms that Curtis did, North American Indian, Indian or the specific tribe to which he refers. Here you will see Curtis's focus on the Indian, the clear visual definition of his subjects. In the process you will also be engaged in the vision that he saw, the faces, the landscapes and the articles of those North American Indians. The final segment will focus on the legacy of his work and how, after decades of lapse, interest has been renewed and comes forward in ever-enriching ways, discussion, exhibits and opportunities. Let's begin. And in doing so, I will share with you my personal journey and introduction to Curtis. About 15 years ago I was living in the Pacific Northwest in the furthest corner and my goal was to reach the westernmost part of the continental U.S. on Solstice to take in the longest day of the year. And that's, I guess you can't see, this place right here, Nea Bay. As I stayed overnight in Port Angeles, I left early in the morning and at the drive through Espresso stand asked the barista how long it would take to get to Nea Bay. When she responded a couple of hours, I concluded she had not had her caffeine fixed yet because surely 50 miles could not take two hours. So I set out on this long, craggy, coastal road and it was marked at 15 miles an hour, curves at five. And indeed, two hours later, I arrived at Nea Bay. I found the McCaw Maiden diner. I went in for breakfast and I observed two interesting photographs near the cashier. Portraits of young women looking strikingly similar in their pose and attire. I inquired. The answer was that the one on the left was why some famous photographer 100 years ago and the one on the right was by the subject's granddaughter at the same age. I stared at them, studied them. Yes, for quite a while. The expressions were similar. Facial features strikingly so. But that famous photographer one had such depth and quality, it was profound. It really captured me. I needed to know who that photographer was. Let me share with you Edward Curtis' photograph of the McCaw Maiden. Unfortunately, I cannot show you the comparison because when I returned a couple of years ago, the diner was gone and no one knew what had become of the photographs. After that, I spent some time in the library and learned more about Curtis, this photographer of 100 years ago. How he captured the engagement of his subjects with the eyes straight to you, like McCaw Maiden. His portraits offer deep character studies in just the first glance and his landscapes were breathtaking. I also lived in the southwest and there I learned of Canyon Deschets, another well-known image by Curtis. This site is near Chin Lee on the Navajo reservation. This amazing photograph represents another group of his subjects, the landscapes. Here is his image with the magnitude of the land, sandstone spires coming hundreds of feet off the valley floor, and a few men on horseback crossing with dogs in tow. To me, this image provokes thoughts of the insignificance of man compared to the grandeur of nature. As I began to recognize more of Curtis's work, I laughed to think I had seen others as well. When one of my brothers built a home in LaMoyle County, he displayed a print of Bears Belly in his main hallway. I expect for them, my brother and many others, this photograph represents strength and masculinity. Look at the scars on Bears Belly's chest, all from flesh wounds induced as a part of this man's journey. His bear coat was needed for his role as a medicine man. You've seen a few images of Curtis, it's time to know more about him. For me that opportunity came when a friend recommended this biography, Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher by Timothy Egan. And I began my more serious study of Curtis. Curtis was born in 1868 in Wisconsin, and his family moved to Minnesota when he was young. His father, a Civil War veteran, was in poor health as a result of his war service, and he worked only as a traveling preacher. Edward often joined him, going deep in the wilderness, developing survival skills and being a great outdoorsman. His fascination with photography also began at an early age, and using a lens that his father brought back from the war and instructions from Wilson's photographic magazine, he crafted a rudimentary camera. At 17 he became an apprentice to a photographer in St. Paul, but within a couple of years the family's path changed with a move to Puget Sound in the Northwest. Edward and his father went first. Months later, after they established a homestead, fish, cut timber, and planted fruit trees, the rest of the family arrived, mother, brother, and sister. Within three days of their arrival, Johnson Curtis died, and all of the family's responsibilities fell to Edward. Using his various talents in timbering, fishing, and finally photography, he supported his family. He also married and began a family of his own. Regarding photography, Curtis bought into a studio in Seattle. Eventually, he established his own studio. His portraits were remarkable. It was the place for Seattle's society to have their portrait taken. People often commented that he captured the essence of a person. But for Curtis, his interest saw beyond the fancy studio, down to the shores of Puget Sound, where he found the daughter of Chief Seattle, old, craggy, and living within the city limits that barred natives. Princess Angeline sat for Curtis. These photographs and a couple of others won him prizes and attentions in the world of photography. Consider for a moment a photographer at the turn of the 20th century. It included a huge, heavy camera, 50 pounds or more, on a tripod with glass plates and an image that was upside down and backwards to the photographer. The thought that Curtis could connect with a subject to gain the essence of that person and then compose a photograph while looking upside down and backwards speaks to his focus on the task. Next came the time-consuming chemical process of developing the images. These photographs in composition, technique, and result were not the quickie selfies of today's cell phones. Curtis also photographed landscapes and sought sites that had never been photographed. Mount Rainier was one of those. Its year-round ice cap, socked-in fog, lake deep in the center, and volcanic essence provided ample opportunity for unusual and interesting photographs. His survival skills served him well in achieving the photographs. And on one occasion, Curtis was there when a storm blew in, obscuring everything. He could hear voices asking for help. Lost and ill-prepared were a group of scientists from the East Coast. Among them was George Bird Grinnell, founder of the Audubon Society and C. Hart Merriam of the National Geographic Society. Curtis came to their rescue and thus began his friendship and association with these experts. The following year, Curtis served as the official photographer of the Harriman Expedition to Alaska that included men of science, zoologists, geologists, botanists, and more. Here was Curtis with his sixth grade education, exposed to and enjoying the intellectual life of university professors, writers, and leaders like John Muir, John Burroughs, and Gifford Pinchott. This experience proved a floating university education for Curtis himself. In 1900, Bird Grinnell invited Curtis to join him on a trip to visit the tribes in Montana. As Curtis continued to photograph, Grinnell asked if he had considered putting them together in a book for an exhibition. Curtis had taken portraits and sold them individually, but this trip led to his conviction that he needed to document the lives and cultures of these tribes. Like others of his time, Curtis saw this race, this way of life, vanishing. He wanted to capture it and document it before it was lost. Let's consider for a moment his words of his vision. His aim to picture all of Indian life and environment, they are young and old with their habitations and industries, ceremonies, games, and everyday customs. These immense goals were best expressed in his words to Grinnell. I want to make them lives forever. It is such a big dream. I can't see it all. Curtis spent about five years using his own resources, but began to realize that he could not do this project alone. Through connections with his friends and acquaintances that now included President Theodore Roosevelt, he began making inquiries and seeking funding. Here is Curtis' portrait of Roosevelt. Roosevelt suggested that Curtis approached J.P. Morgan, a philanthropist and financier for support. Although Morgan, also a portrait by Curtis, turned him down, Curtis offered to show Morgan some of the photographs, including this one of Mosa. With her facial markings and ornamentation of her tribe, Curtis' captions compares her to a fawn in the forest questioning the strange thing of civilization seen for the first time. Morgan changed his mind and supported the project, but required Curtis to sell subscriptions. Their arrangement included $15,000 each year for five years to support the field work and production. Curtis received no salary nor compensation. The project would produce 20 volumes that Curtis would sell by subscription for a total of $3,000. Subscribers were to include wealthy industrialists, museums and libraries. With focus, determination and grit, Curtis did see it all and documented it for the rest of us. Active production of the volumes began in 1907. However, it slowed during the teens when the type of printing material was not available. The death of J.P. Morgan in 1913 impacted the progress as well, and as did the First World War. Ultimately, Morgan's heirs continued to support the field work. A display of the works helps to understand how expansive this undertaking was. It covered 30 years and more than 80 tribes of vast territory west of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers into Mexico, through the plains in western U.S., coastal Canada and into the Arctic. Here is a representation of those 20 volumes with accompanying portfolios. It is helpful to remember that each volume contains a few hundred pages and each accompanying portfolio more than 30 photo breviors. Let's pause here and take a few questions. Where is the largest collection in Vermont? I don't know that there's a collection in Vermont. There is a collection of full set at Dartmouth. I'll speak of that later in the legacy, but that is the nearest. There's a partial collection in Montreal. I'm struck by the breadth of the territory. It makes me wonder, did he have a team that went with him? How was this organized actually in the future? The question is, did he have a team to go with him? The answer is yes, there were many. He had translators, he had field interviewers. He worked with many different tribes and had to work with many languages as a result of that. He also worked with Hodge, the primary editor. He worked with musicians when you see later some of the musical things that were included. The group of people that worked with him was very large and changed over the years, of course. He, people both in photography and in the field work, in the ethnology. He was required to sell them to libraries. Was that an easy task? Were people interested at that time? Anne's asking about the subscription and his requirement to sell them. Was it an easy task? It was not an easy task, particularly not for him. Someone with his artistic temperament did not do well at the business side of things. We'll see more of that later. However, you also suggested that was there an interest. Indeed, there was an interest during this time. There was a great deal being written about the indigenous populations and a good deal of interest. And many people at the time felt that this race, this culture would vanish. So that sense of documenting and preserving in that way. Did he keep his Seattle studio while he was engaged in this? A little more of that later. The question is about did he maintain his Seattle studio? I would have to say that his wife maintained his Seattle studio. He did a little of it. He spent a great deal of time in the field work and used a lot of the studio to produce the documents and the materials. But he was less active in the studio himself. Other questions? Obviously, he couldn't do this all continuously. Over the 30 years, he had to maintain his life and stuff. Was there any formula that he had? How long he would have to work and back out in the field? Did he maintain the whole family? Brian's question is, how did he do this work? Did he do it continuously? Indeed not. One of the things I'll be able to tell you about later is a huge gap in time around the First World War when there was virtually no field work being done. But there were other times, there were diaries and documentation from him in the 1906, 1907 just before the first publication of the first two or three volumes where he and a staff were working virtually 20 hours a day going to the post office once a week and day in and day out to prepare the documents. So intense periods of work and then huge gaps and many returns to the various tribes in various areas. Other questions or shall we move on? Let's go. So now we'll talk about the subjects of his photography and moving on to the remarkable images that he produced. Viewing the selection we will look at both his focus on the faces of the people, young, old, saddened or cheerful. A composite of this work also sees the vision that Curtis had in documenting this receding culture in all aspects. Regarding the images, in the brain in 1992 thesis studied all 2226 images that are available in the North American Indian both the text and the portfolios. They are categorized into five major groups the portraits and including some non-portrait human subjects, landscapes, architecture, livelihood and artifacts. Let's begin with portraits. What is a portrait? The commonly accepted definition is that a portrait is a representation of a person in which the face and his expression are predominant. The intent is to display a likeness, a personality, even a mood. It is not a snapshot but a composed image of a person in a still position. A portrait often shows a person looking directly to gain the most engagement with the viewer. Many portraits are face only. Some are head and shoulders of three quarters. Most are of a single subject. Others might be full body and more than one subject. Approximately 40% of the images in the North American Indian are portraits. Indeed, Curtis's most iconic images are those portraits whether they show chiefs, warriors, women or children. More men than women, more adults than seniors and certainly more than children or infants. First let's see one of the famous chiefs, Geronimo. While a common perception of this Apache leader is about his wars first against Mexico and then the US, Curtis tells us this portrait of the historical old Apache was made in March 1905. The picture was taken the day before the inauguration of President Roosevelt. Geronimo being one of the warriors who took part in the inaugural parade at Washington. He appreciated the honor of being one of those chosen for this occasion and the catching of his features while this old warrior was in a retrospective mood was most fortunate. Retrospective was not always the mood of the chief. Let's look at a few other images. Here is Bull Chief. We see his pursed lips, his eyes defiant, resolute. Curtis tells more about him in the text, especially speaking to his bravery. Bull Chief never led a war party from camp but four times took detachments that were turning back and each time came back with undisputed honor. Three times he dismounted in battle and alone held the enemy at bay. Next Chief Garfield, a more neutral stance, his amazing headdress and ornamentation are predominant. And finally Chief Joseph. Curtis's long caption speaks of Chief Joseph's heroic efforts to resist the greed of white settlers but is the chief's own words that define his legacy. I am tired, my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever. So in their various postures from retrospective, defiant, neutral to sadness the chiefs convey a good deal of their life experiences in his portraits. A look at the young and adult man tells us something about them. Some quite serious, even somber, like this Navajo medicine man. In contrast, the Pagan dandy offers the very definition of dandy showing his devotion to style, neatness, fashion and dress and appearance. It offers a certain air of cool and hip, remarkable hairstyle, facial enhancements and ornamentation as well as his decorative garments. In contrast, the intense seriousness of the Zuni governor of the Southwest tribe. In review, the young and adult men, medicine man, dandy and governor. If we can offer another view into the lives of the indigenous tribes, these three portraits of women show different expressions. Pima woman, Pima matron, most often during this era, person sat for portraits and did not smile. Pima matron is atypical in that regard. The Suquamish woman seems almost too somber for a portrait. But again, Curtis's purpose was to convey the losses of these people and it comes across in portraits such as this. Wisham girl may seemingly have a smirk or could just be the whale bone ornamentation through her nose. This personal dormant exceeds even what we might see in downtown Montpelier today. So looking at the three women, the Pima matron, the Suquamish woman and the Wisham girl, another way to look at women is to look at them through their lifespan. Here is the Hopi girl. An important feature here is referred to as the squashed blossom hairstyle indicating a young woman of marriageable age. Curtis's caption tells us more. Soft, regular features are characteristic of Hopi young women and no small part of mother's time is used to be devoted to dressing the hair of her unmarried daughters. Mother and child, Lakota or Titansu, this is an interesting portrait of two individuals. The mother in deep contemplation, while Curtis captures the piercing gaze of the infant. And finally, old woman in mourning. While Curtis offers no caption, nor is there more in the text, it is widely recognized that the lifespan for women is typically greater than that for men and thus in old age women are often mourning the loss of their mates. Women through their lifespan are young women, mothers and widows. Children are less frequently photographed by Curtis. It is no surprise considering that childhood is less than two decades and adulthood the remainder. Nonetheless, children are captivating subjects for images. Let's begin with the youngest, an Apache babe. I guess this precious one didn't know that it was a formal portrait, a need for seriousness. The Comanche girl has a more serious look. Although Curtis offers no special words on this photograph, it is placed in the pages describing the mythology of the tribe, what better way to illustrate the stories and beliefs of people than those told to children. The son of the desert, Curtis shares his personal story. In the early morning, this boy, as if springing from the earth itself, came into the author's desert camp. Indeed, he seemed a part of the very desert. His eyes bespeak all of curiosity, all of wonder of his primitive mind, striving to grasp the meaning of the strange things around him. And then Mojave Childs. The photograph is embedded in the text about the Mojave's beliefs about their origins. And although it's a photograph of a child, there is a certain steadfast gaze that feels almost adult-like. In summary, the children, the babe, the Comanche girl, the son of the desert and the Mojave Childs. I can't finish this section without a favorite, a family portrait. It's rare, there are not many. This shows both smiles and a bit of skepticism, perhaps the most so from the youngest member of the family. This is from the 20th and final volume, and Curtis is concluding work with his hazardous trip to the Arctic. Let's turn to the human subjects, not in the portrait format. Some interesting depictions for sure. First is vanishing grace. It is dark and often difficult to discern the faces and positions of these few riders headed into the abyss. This is the first photograph in the portfolios and says much of Curtis and others in their view of the fate of the tribes. Another dark and ominous one is watching for the signal, Nez Perce, a striking image taking with limited light. And another, perhaps in contrast to the first, is one called Out of the Darkness and seemingly Out of the Same Deep Canyon Wall. In summary, three dramatic photographs with human subjects. Vanishing grace, Out of the Darkness, and Waiting for the Signal. The next three are the daily activities that surround food, obtaining and preparing it. First is Macaw Wheeler, and again this is from the area on Mia Bay. And one on the preparation of food is called Pounding the Fish. And a rather noted photograph here is the Peaky Maker, preparing a type of grilled bread. A summary of these three life-sustaining activities. The Wheeler, Pounding the Fish, and the Peaky Maker. Before I leave this segment, I want to offer three favorites. First, Waiting in the Forest. Curtis tells us, at dusk, young man closely wrapped in white cotton sheets may be seen standing motionless in the shadow of the trees, each one alert for the opportunity to steal a meeting with his sweetheart. Waiting in the Forest. Watching the dancers brings us back to the Southwest and shows the squash blossom hairstyle of the young women of marriageable age. And in contrast to that joyful occasion, this one is called Heavy Load, Sue, depicting the harsh realities of obtaining warmth in the winter. Some favorites. Waiting in the Forest. Watching the dancers and heavy load. But let's move on to landscapes. The immense landscape, Curtis often includes the human subject. To me, it's the contrast of man and nature and how little we might mean. Like Kenyon Deschets, Kenyon Del Marto shows the immensity of the steep cliffs and the diminutive human figures. Sunset on Puget Sound shows a higher horizontal line and a more prominent image of the vessel and its occupants. Badlands, again, the rising mountains. In summary, the landscapes. Kenyon Del Marto, on Puget Sound and in the Badlands. Moving on to architecture. The native dwellings appealed to Curtis and he provided many traditional types. Popular culture may most identify the Teebies like these of the Teton area of northern Montana. But also see the centuries-old adobe of the southwest. Of this one in particular, Curtis provides a great deal of information as he saw it change over a few decades. From the 1880s, when it rose to the height of six well-defined stories, in 1903, when the photograph here reproduced was made, there were five stories. In 1910, a single apartment was four stories from the ground, but in 1919, the room was demolished and Curtis did note the hemispherical oven of the Spanish provenance on the roof. You can see there in the lower corner. And finally, a structure of wood and frame as seen in the Pacific Northwest. In describing this structure, its purpose and production, Curtis says the longitudinal and circular flutes on the columns are laboriously produced by a means of a small hand adds of primitive form. In summary, the three architectures. Teebie of the Plains, Adobe of the Southwest and Frame of the Pacific Northwest. The livelihoods were important and the tribes documented and they were documented by Curtis. Here are some of the iconic occupations and images. First, a medicine man, highly revered by the tribes. This one working with his herbs. Remember, too, that Bear's Belly was a medicine man. Next, a weaver of the sheep herder tribes of the Southwest. In speaking of this Navajo blanket loom, Curtis tells us during the summer they are erected outdoors under an improvised shelter as in this case beneath a tree. The simplicity of the loom and its products are clearly shown pictured in the early morning light under a cottonwood. Finally, a potter creating functional and decorative artifacts. This potter appears so involved in the work that it is hard to see where the clay ends and the human begins. The iconic livelihoods, the medicine man, the weaver, the potter. Artifacts represent the final segment of photographic images. First, a sand painting so careful in its construction. Curtis tells us that this is one of four elaborate dry paintings or sand altars employed in the rights of the Mountain Chat, a Navajo medicine ceremony of nine days duration. And typically the sand paintings lasted no longer than that. Here are highly decorative baskets from a tribe in the southwestern part of California. And pottery from an area of New Mexico. Curtis tells us a great deal about this particular pottery. The polished black vessel on the left represent a recent revival under the stimulus of commercial encouragement, but of an ancient phase of potter's art for it answers the description of blackware observed by Coronado's chronicles centuries before. So the three artifacts, the sand painting, the baskets, the pottery. Curtis achieved his vision of creating a record of the Spanish race. Although his portraits are most recognized and represent a large portion of his body of work, he photographed, recorded and documented many aspects of the lives of the North American Indian. The places where they lived, from desert to mountain to ocean side, how they lived, tipi, adobe or wood frame, their activities to sustain themselves and the products they made for both artistic and practical purposes. Yes, Curtis viewed it all and shared that vision for generations to come. So I'll pause here for a few questions. In your research, did you get a sense of what his entree was to various tribes, what his story was and how he gained the trust of the people that he thought of? Yes, just this question has to do with how did Curtis gain access to the tribes? What kinds of efforts did he make? And I can say his first method was patience. He took a great deal of time doing it. He took a great deal of time when he moved into an area where the tribes were with his field workers engaging them first and he would lay back. He would not be particularly engaged. He would wait for them to come forward. When you look at his portraits, you see someone willing to be engaged with a photographer and it's because of the time and the trust that he built up with the tribes. One of the interesting things I read was when the tribes were particularly closed about their mythology, their beliefs about origins, their religious practices because they were being discounted at this point. They were not allowed to have any of their sun dances, snake dances, these things. So Curtis' technique to get more information is he would be speaking with them and make the claims of some other tribe he had just heard that he knew would be in contrast to that one and they would stand to correct him. Yeah, still. The photos all have kind of similar field, seabed atones and almost like paintings. Was that a necessity throughout his career or was that a choice? This question is about the artistic picture-like, artistic framing of the photographs and asking if that was a choice, the sepia images. Indeed, he's often characterized as a pictoralist looking to other kinds of artists mostly of portraits or landscapes in oil or watercolor. Definitely it is what Curtis preferred. It has brought about some criticism but that is the method in which he worked and what he preferred in terms of the images. I think what he gives us are gorgeous images. Did Curtis leave any commentary about the printing of the medicine man that you showed a dozen slides or so back with, he's put a halo around the subject. Oh, I- Tom's question is, was there, that there's a halo effect around the medicine man was this intentional? I don't know, I think this is a great observation. It's something that I haven't heard. I see that he's wearing a band around his head, so there's one thing that can emphasize it but then behind it the specific kind of lighting. And I don't know, he certainly was a photographer of high skill and technique so he was able to do some things with lighting. He only used natural light and his temporary teepee lighting studios had like a sunroof or something so he could bring in the light. He photographed in daylight often in near darkness and sometimes in brilliant sunlight. Any questions? On the architecture, I was curious about the one that he did in the Adobe concept. What was his hope? You know, I don't remember, let's see if we can go up to that. Her question is the, oh I think it's gone back, on the Adobe's, if it was Hopi. I don't remember but it is definitely the southwestern part of the U.S. I can look that up. Other questions? Let me move on then to legacy. So we'll pick up where the final publication of the North American Indian ended or left off in 1930. Provide a little more about Curtis' personal life, his dedication to the task and focus on completing it because it interfered in many ways in his life. As mentioned earlier, he was less interested in a Seattle studio and more in the field work of the North American Indian. He was not paid for his efforts for this opus magnum. Left back at the studio to handle the day-to-day work was his wife managing the studio and doing the best to raise four children. Although in the early years the family often accompanied him to the various remote tribal sites, this was not so as the project progressed. Let's look at how the project progressed and conclude with this impression over time covering these major points. The 1930s, the sale of the materials, 52, the death of Curtis, 70s, the finding of the materials, the 60s and 70s and increased interest, and now the major exhibitions. The agreement with Morgan was a five-year effort and a $75,000 investment with the accompanying sales of 500 subscriptions at $3,000 each. To be candid, neither worked out that way. It seems that 200 and some original sets were sold by subscription, either through Curtis or some of the corporation that continued the effort. The five-year window was up even before Morgan's death, but the work was not completed. While taking no compensation for himself, Curtis was careful to pay individuals for taking photographs, for interpreting, for editors and others in the production of this work. When printing materials were unattainable and the field work was at a standstill due to funds, Curtis used his photographing skills to do other things. First was the Indian picture opera that used dissolving lantern slides with background music and lectures by Curtis in an effort to raise more funds for the publications. Next he created a motion picture in the land of the headhunters. This was shown in New York, Washington, D.C. and Seattle. Curtis never made a commercial success of either of those. The difficulties through the war years, Curtis's financial failings and his divorce left many volumes to be completed. The 11th volume was published in 1916 and the 12th in 1924, so as you suggested, a pretty big gap of time for some activities. But a man with a vision and focused on his task, Curtis spent the 1920s relocating his photography studio to Los Angeles, working as a still photographer and camera operator in the film industry to make ends meet and to complete this task. His harrowing final trip to the Arctic was done in 1927 and this led away to the final publications of the last two volumes in 1930. After the completion of the volumes, Curtis experienced a near total collapse. After a couple of years in rehab and recuperating, he returned to a greater level of activity and interest. He had many health issues and continued to experience personal financial challenges. He sold his interests in the North American Indian and the remainder of the completed sets and miscellaneous volumes. All portfolios, prints, as well as copper and glass plates were now owned by Morgan. Eventually in 1935, with virtually no activity and limited interest, at this point the interest in the Native American population had diminished. All those materials were sold to the Charles Laureate Company, a rare book dealer in Boston, for $1,000. Laureate offered them for sale for a number of years. This is one of the images. But after his death, the depression, and less interest in indigenous populations, the Ovis Magnum remained in reference libraries, not often referenced. Curtis died in 1952, much forgotten. His New York Times obituary acknowledged that he was an internationally known authority on the history of the North American Indian, and mentioned that he was widely known as a photographer. In the 1960s and 70s, with the civil rights and Native rights movements, this brought more attention to the tribes. Similarly, anthropologists rediscovered Curtis' work. As the interest in the North American Indian increased, so did the interest in his work. The American Heritage Book of Indians, published in 1961, with an introduction by President Kennedy, featured some of Curtis' photographs. A 1974 article was titled, Edward Curtis and His Splendid Indians. And again, we see Bear's belly. Major exhibitions of his photographs were presented at the Morgan Library Museum in 71, Philadelphia Art Museum in 72, and University of California in 76. His work was also featured in several anthology of Native American photography. In the 1970s, the Santa Fe, New Mexico photographer and filmmaker, Carl Kernberg, searched for Curtis' original materials. With two other investors, he purchased almost 285,000 photographures, and the copper plates from the Charles Laureate Company. The plates were later purchased by another investor, Mark Zaplan, also of Santa Fe. Ownership remained there until 82 when they were sold to a California group, led by an Apple executive. A number of collectors have been instrumental in gathering original prints and reproducing materials. Lois Flurry began her interest when she originally saw Curtis' photographs and lived in Texas. She moved to Seattle and started Flurry & Company in 1981. The company has offered original prints and other artifacts over the years. Christopher Cardoso, an art curator and photographer in Minneapolis, is an acknowledged authority on Curtis. He authored nine monographs on Curtis, as well as creating and curating more than 100 one-person Curtis exhibits in over 40 countries. Having collected Curtis' work for four decades, Cardoso has created the world's largest and most broad-ranging Curtis collection. Here, he is now offering a republication of the original 20-volume set. With increased interest, there's been an increased value in the 20-volume set. The most recent one was sold at a Christie's auction in 2012. Although the estimated value was a million to a million and a half, the set sold for 2.8 million U.S. dollars. The originals are now most often in rare collections and archives. Viewing typically requires special appointments and even specific authorization regarding purpose. However, the volumes are more generally available to the public. With funding from the Library of Congress, Northwestern University digitized a set of the 20 volumes and company portfolios in 2004 to reproduce an online and easy-to-access version of the North American Indian. The Northwestern site offers table of contents and titles or portfolios, while the Library of Congress's effort joined to offer browsing and searching features. Another aspect less known was Curtis's effort to document language, both in written form and with phonetic interpretation and by sound recording. Curtis and his crew used wax cylinders to collect more than 10,000 recordings of language, music, and tribal lore and histories of those 80-plus tribes. Of Curtis's wax cylinders, only 276 are known to survive and they are all held at the archives of traditional music at the Indiana University. These sound recordings now help tribes to rediscover the sounds of their native tongues. Could Curtis ever have known his vision could reach this far forward into another century and back to provide connections for the natives to their own spoken language? For Vermont, nearby locations of the 20 volumes begins at Dartmouth College as the closest. The location there is the Rainier Special Collections Library, right in front of the Baker Known Library, better known. Another source for a partial collection is at the McCord Library and McCord Museum in Montreal and in that collection is an interesting and yet unsolved mystery. Let me share with you what I've learned of the acquisition. We must begin with Hader Reed, born in Upper Canada in the middle of the 19th century. He worked for the Canadian Department of Interior's Indian agent and commissioner in Western Canada in the 1880s. During this era, he acquired many artifacts in Indian memorabilia. He later lived in Ottawa and Montreal. However, his work for the Canadian Pacific Railroad brought him across the country from Quebec City to Vancouver during the early 20th century. One can only speculate that it was during this time when the first volumes of the North American Indian had been published that it had the opportunity to acquire the partial set that he did. Hader Reed married Kate Armour Lottery. They had one son, Gordon Reed. Gordon's widow made a gift to the McCord Museum, or its predecessor, the Red Path, of seven of the eight volumes and the eight portfolios during the early 1960s. Their daughter, the lone descendant, Kate Reed, spoke fondly of her childhood memories of large boxes of beautiful photographs, what a wonderful gift that all of these courtesans' originals were given to the museum. A major exhibit at McCord was held in 2012. Interestingly, the partial set is number 115 and has a printed dedication. It says, this monumental work in 20 volumes by Edward S. Curtis is a gift to the Rainier Club of Seattle through the kindness of James A. Moore, April 1911. So why is a set dedicated to a club in Seattle located across the border and continent in Montreal? One simple determination is that in 1911, eight volumes had been published, so it is not surprising that that's the limit of what Hader Reed had acquired. James A. Moore was a developer and leader in Seattle in the early 20th century. His Moore Theater, which continues today, is one of the sites that showed Curtis's 1914 film. The Rainier Club served as a gentleman's club and residence in the early 20th century. Curtis often resided there in between his travels and his separation from his family. The Rainier Club, like others of its ilk, suffered financial hardship during the Depression. Interestingly, neither James Moore nor the Rainier Club are listed as subscribers to the North American Indian, either in Curtis's personal papers at the University of Washington, nor in those held by the Morton Library in New York City. It remains a mystery for another day. Fast forward to today. In honor of the 150th anniversary of Curtis's birth, there will be many exhibits. By December 2018, more than 20 museums, native culture centers, libraries and other organizations in Seattle and across the Pacific Northwest will stage exhibits and events connected to the images that Curtis made of native people and connect those to explore their relevance today. For a few moments, let's think back to the work of Edward Curtis. His vision to see and document a passing way of life has lived by the indigenous populations of North America. His focus on the faces, the landscapes, and the aspects of their lives, as well as his steadfast vision and commitment to the task over a 30-year period of time, which took a great personal toll on him. The full appreciation of his life's work is just now coming into view 150 years since his birth. I thank you for your time. I hope you've enjoyed this journey. We'll take a few other questions. Where's the closest exhibit from here coming going on this year? I think Wisconsin there. I think there's one near his birthplace, Whitewater, Wisconsin. I can find it and get it to you, and that won't be until fall. Most of these, so many of these, are in the Pacific Northwest. Brian? Brian's asking about what happened to Curtis, what was his collapse after he finished this work. All I've read of it is that he spent about two years in a rehabilitation center in Denver. By then, he was living in Los Angeles, but he had a physical and mental collapse. There were writings from him at that time saying that he can't do anything. He's physically incapacitated. Obviously, he pushed the limits of the human body to do all the things he did. That last trip to the Arctic, they almost sank the ship numbers of times. They left much too late into the season when the ice was coming in. There were all kinds of things. I don't know that there was any specific diagnosis, and in 1930, I don't know if there would be one. You mentioned that his wife took care of the studio in Sierra. Was she involved in the photography at all? The question is about his wife and her participation in the studio. I don't see any documentation of her as a photographer. She certainly did a great deal of the work. She had a tremendously difficult divorce in which by court, she was granted the studio and all of the materials. However, Curtis and his children, who had been raised by her, supported him and went and destroyed many of the materials. Some of the sad stories connected to all of this. You mentioned someone in Minneapolis, who's going to write an interest. Is there anything on display in Minneapolis? Your question is about what is in Minneapolis and is there anything on display? I don't know that there's anything right there. Christopher Cardozo has a studio there. He has a huge online. I've shown that. It's easy to find. I saw an exhibit that he put together about a year and a half ago in Palm Springs. He has a gorgeous book called 100 Masterpieces. It's the 100 photographs that he's selected as his personal favorites of Curtis. Those are what he's been exhibiting around the world in these various locations. The last time I communicated with him, I didn't get the impression there was anything there to be seen because I had the same thought of what's there. Is the Alaska journey documented in a way that's accessible to... Okay. Will's asking about the Alaska journey and I assume you mean the Harriman expedition. The Arctic one. Oh, his final Arctic. There are some documentation of his Arctic. I think certainly it's captured in that biography, Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher. I think there's more in Gidley's books about his field work because that would be included. That's as much as I can think of right at the spot. Yes, Brian? You must have kept journals. I mean, obviously, some of the applications kind of magnitude to this project. Is that one of the things that was probably destroyed when he had his separation this morning? You're asking about his journals and his documentation. I don't know that he was a particularly good journalist. There are some commentaries. There's one long correspondence between him and a librarian at the Washington State Historical Library that happened in the 1940s, I believe, and that actually is available through the Seattle Public Library. In terms of his project, when I was at the Morgan Library in New York looking at those documents, I would say that he was a very bad accountant. When he would put in things for his bills, it would be X activity, X amount. So an artist at heart? Very much an artist at heart. I've looked at lots of materials and supporting documentation. His wouldn't have qualified in most regards. Anything else? Is the Morgan Library... I'm sorry? Not that I've found. I haven't communicated with them recently, but that's a very good question. They certainly should. The other place that has had exhibits, and again, I don't know that they're planning any, is the Wadsworth-Anthonium in Hartford, and that's because J.P. Morgan was actually from Hartford, and he supported that Anthonium and Museum. I was down there a couple of years ago, and they have preserved their sets beautifully. It's incredible to see different original sets and the conditions they're in. So at this point, his work has been scattered in a few different places, where it's being stored again. It's not all in one place. Cordosa's got a whole bunch of them. Right, right. The question is, where is his work? I would say they're... Definitely, I've found probably 50 large museums, libraries, reference libraries, but to see those works, you have to make appointments. It's a huge requirement. Handling is difficult, and you have to have a specific purpose often. But I can't say enough about the online digitized version at Northwestern University. Those are all there. That's primarily where I obtain the images that I use, and it's a wonderful way to see them. And most often, actually, when I'm looking, I have that up and online, and then I'm looking at the actual books, because if I want to find something quickly, I do the search on the computer and then find where it is in the book to look. Well, I think we should conclude. We promise to give back the facility and time for them to set up for the next thing. But thank you all. I hope you've enjoyed it. Leave your comment cards up here, if any of you are willing. Be very eager to hear what you can say.