Jeff Thomas, Adrian Stimson as Buffalo Boy, Samuel de Champlain Monument, Nepean Point, Ottawa, Ontario, May 30, 2011, courtesy of the artist.

Seize the Space: Buffalo Boy

By Jeff Thomas

What is my best shot? That is a hard question because when I look at a photograph that I have made I see all the other shots that led up to that one as well as all the other images that influenced me. So when I look, for example, at my most recent photograph—Seize the Space: Buffalo Boy—I see at least three other images.

The first image I see was made in 1984 while walking down Queen Street in Toronto with my then seven-year old son Bear. As a First Nations person, I was keenly aware of the invisibility of Indigenous people in the urban landscape. As we neared Spadina Avenue I noticed a brick wall spray painted with the words “Culture Revolution.” I stopped at the wall to photograph, but decided instead to have Bear pose next to the graffito so that he could have a memento of our day. Once I developed the print in my darkroom and had a chance to study it, I realized it was more than a memento—the unexpected convergence of visual elements changed my view of the urban landscape. Not only did I see myself reflected in my son as a young boy and as a father, but Bear was wearing a baseball cap with an image of an Indian man by the name of Two Moons made by Edward S. Curtis in 1910. Two Moons was a respected Cheyenne leader and a participant in the infamous battle of The Little Big Horn in 1876. Together the image of Two Moons with the words culture revolution, made me realize that if I was going to make the invisible urban-Indian visible, I had to take on the role of an interventionist.

The next image I see is one that I never made. The year was 1992 and excitement had been building in the U.S. for the 500th anniversary celebration of Christopher Columbus’s arrival. One publicity element stood out for me—the slogan “Discoverer of the New World.” The fact that an ancient world was already here when Columbus arrived seemed to be forgotten, and I wanted to play on the idea of what “New World” means from a First Nations perspective. How would I define it? The answer came to me while I was watching a television documentary about the myth of the Old West. I just happened to see an Indian man posing for tourists in a South Dakota town that had been refurbished to look like early settler towns. The Indian man’s name was Paha Ska and he was a Lakota from the Pine Ridge reservation. He was also the goodwill ambassador for the community of Keystone, South Dakota. He posed for tourists dressed in his tribal clothing and standing with his horse Kippy, near Mt. Rushmore. I decided I was going to see this so-called New World for myself, and meeting Paha Ska was my objective.

So, a friend and I set off on a road trip across the United States. When we arrived at Keystone on July 13th the first thing I saw was Paha Ska and Kippy surrounded by eager tourists. We pulled up on the opposite side of Winter Street but, to my surprise, I could not bring myself to get out of the car. I thought at first that maybe my reluctance was due to all the tourists around him, so I decided to wait until they left. But then I realized that I couldn’t do it. Instead I began driving away, watching him fade from sight in the rear view mirror.

We decided to continue driving west and eventually reached Washington State, crossed over to Canada and drove back to Ontario. I barely made any images on that trip. From the time we left Keystone—wherever we stopped and whatever we were doing—I thought of Paha Ska. In the end I realized how unprepared I was to deal photographically with the erasure of any indigenous presence in this version of the New World.

Back home in Ontario, I began to evaluate my road trip and fell into a funk thinking about all the photographs I didn’t make. To cheer me up my friend suggested we drive to Ottawa to see the Samuel de Champlain monument and the life-sized Indian man kneeling at the base of the monument. We arrived in Ottawa and headed over to Nepean Point, in the backyard of the National Gallery of Canada. It was a cold and blustery November day and, ascending the steep hill leading up to the monument, the first thing I saw was the imposing figure of Samuel de Champlain at the top of the monument. As I came closer I could see the bronze Indian man kneeling on a plinth at ground level. He looked just like Paha Ska with tourists clamoring around him. When the tourists moved away, I walked over to the base of the monument and began photographing the Indian man. I then stood next to him and surveyed the landscape from his perspective. I decided I needed to take a new road trip, this time with the objective of finding and photographing other Indians like the Indian man at Nepean Point.

This new road trip would lead to the production of my series Scouting for Indians and the discovery of over one hundred and fifty sites—in Canada, the U.S., and Europe—with some form of “Indian” representation. These images were anchored always by my experience with the Champlain monument, which continued when I moved to Ottawa in 1993.

That summer I had a solo exhibition at the Ottawa Art Gallery titled “Portraits from the Dancing Grounds.” The exhibition was a survey of my powwow images, my research work with historical photographs, and The Bear Portraits. The exhibition also included my photographs of the Champlain monument. Shortly after the exhibition ended, the Assembly of First Nations (A.F.N.) held a protest at the Champlain monument and symbolically covered the Indian man with a blanket. The A.F.N. argued that he did not accurately represent the important contributions Indigenous peoples made to the building of Canada and that he was inappropriately dressed. Wearing only a breechcloth, he looked more like an erotic male dancer.

While I understood the A.F.N.’s position, I worried that, by removing the Indian man, the discussion about the contributions of First Nations peoples to Canada would again be invisible. I argued that instead of removing him, a plaque should be added to the site to give context to his presence. The National Capital Commission did eventually move the Indian Man across the street to a little-used section of Major’s Hill Park. To keep the space and conversation alive, I decided to use the vacant platform as an outdoor studio. I invited people to come up to the monument, pose for me and write a short piece on the experience. In return I sent them a copy of the photograph. I titled the series Seize the Space.

In March 2011, I heard that the artist Adrian Stimson was coming to Ottawa to perform at the “Prairie Scene” event. I took the opportunity to invite Adrian’s Buffalo Boy persona to Nepean Point to pose on the empty plinth for the final portrait I would make at that site. I thought that Buffalo Boy would make a fitting conclusion to the series.

On a bright and warm morning in May, I stood at the top of Nepean Point. Samuel de Champlain still loomed over head, but he was inconsequential. As I watched Buffalo Boy begin to ascend the hill, I felt as if I was watching the Indian Man return to Nepean Point. Everything had come full circle.

Jeff Thomas/ scoutingforindians.com

The concept for the column “My Best Shot” is used with permission from G2:

guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/series/mybestshot