Picturing Manifest Desting

Art, Photography, and the Myth of the Vanishing Indian, 1840–1910

HIST 101 • Richland Community College

Opening (2-3 minutes)

Welcome. Tonight we're looking at how Americans learned to see the West—not through experience, but through images. Between 1840 and 1910, landscape paintings, portrait photography, and staged scenes taught millions of Americans what the West looked like, who belonged there, and what the nation's westward expansion meant.

This isn't a story about accurate representation. It's about how images created a mythology so powerful that it shaped policy, justified violence, and still influences how we see the American West today.

We'll trace this visual tradition chronologically, watching a pattern emerge: landscapes painted as empty, Indigenous peoples portrayed as disappearing, white settlers framed as the future. By the end, we'll see how Edward Curtis crystallized this entire visual grammar into one phrase: "The Vanishing Race."

And then we'll ask: what actually vanished? Not Indigenous peoples—but the ability of many Americans to imagine them as modern, political, creative nations.

Part I: Landscapes

Nature as National Destiny

Thomas Cole, The Oxbow, 1836

Frederic Church, Twilight in the Wilderness, 1860

Albert Bierstadt, The Rocky Mountains, Lander's Peak, 1863

Jasper Cropsey - Autumn on the Hudson River, 1860

Part II: Indigenous Portraiture

Noble Figures From a "Distant" World

Section Introduction (1 minute)

Shift to George Catlin and Alfred Jacob Miller. Their portraits become a different kind of visual grammar: individuals presented in isolation, adorned in what the artist considers "traditional" attire, bodies often paused in a moment of timeless dignity.

Look closely at their technique. Catlin loved twilight—those fading-pastel backgrounds that make the sitter feel slightly removed from the present. Miller leans into the picturesque—romantic poses, dramatic lighting, subjects who look as if they've stepped out of an epic poem.

What's missing here isn't people—it's contemporaneity. These artists weren't particularly interested in Native political life, or diplomacy, or trade, or law, or the everyday texture of Indigenous societies in the 1830s and 1840s. They chose to portray Indigenous subjects as though they belonged to some earlier epoch.

Charles Bird King

Charles Bird King worked in Washington, D.C., painting Native delegations who came to negotiate treaties and defend their nations.
His portraits formed the government’s “Indian Gallery,” displayed in the War Department—the same place coordinating removal policy.
He presents his sitters against neutral backgrounds, emphasizing “traditional” clothing and dignified stillness.
The effect is a portrait style that freezes living political leaders as if they belonged to an earlier, disappearing world.

Charles Bird King, Monchousia, 1820s

Charles Bird King, Petalesharro (Generous Chief), Pawnee, 1820s

Charles Bird King, Hayne Hudjihini (Eagle of Delight), Oto, 1820s

George Catlin

George Catlin was an American painter and traveler who spent the 1830s moving through the Great Plains, painting Mandan, Hidatsa, Blackfeet, Crow, and many other nations.
He described his mission as “rescuing from oblivion” the looks and customs of Native peoples he believed were a “vanishing” race.
Catlin often staged his sitters in ceremonial dress and dramatic poses, emphasizing the exotic and timeless rather than everyday life.
He toured his massive “Indian Gallery” in the U.S. and Europe, promoting it as a last visual record of nations supposedly “hastening before the progress of civilization.”
The result is a deep contradiction: he preserved invaluable visual records of living cultures while framing them through a story of inevitable disappearance.

George Catlin is crucial to understanding how the "vanishing race" narrative developed. He explicitly used this phrase to describe his mission. In the 1830s, the Plains tribes he painted—Mandans, Hidatsas, Blackfeet, Crows—were still largely living their traditional lifeways. The ceremonial regalia and traditional dress were genuinely part of their active cultures.

But Catlin engaged in staging—asking subjects to wear their finest ceremonial clothing, which wasn't everyday wear. He was selective, emphasizing the "exotic" and ceremonial over the mundane. And crucially, he framed everything through his "vanishing race" narrative, claiming he was creating a last record before inevitable disappearance.

This ignored Native agency, adaptation, and survival. His later work with his touring "Indian Gallery" definitely played up romantic primitivism for white audiences. So in the 1830s, he was largely documenting actual living cultures, but through a selective, romanticizing lens that served his own narrative purposes.

George Catlin's Indian Portraits: Authentic or Staged?

The Reality: More nuanced than simple misrepresentation
What Catlin Actually Painted (1830s): In this decade, Plains tribes like the Mandans, Hidatsas, Blackfeet, and Crows were still largely living their traditional lifeways. The ceremonial regalia, buffalo-skin lodges, and traditional dress were genuinely part of their active, living cultures—not reconstructions or costumes.
The Staging Element: Catlin did ask subjects to wear their finest ceremonial clothing for portraits, which wasn't everyday wear. He was selective, emphasizing the "exotic" and ceremonial over the mundane—like asking someone to dress up for a formal portrait rather than wearing work clothes.
The Real Problem: The misrepresentation came in how his work was used and interpreted. Catlin promoted the "vanishing race" narrative—claiming Native peoples were inevitably disappearing and he was creating a last record. This ignored Native agency, adaptation, and survival. His touring "Indian Gallery" (1840s-1850s) played up romantic primitivism for white audiences.
Bottom Line: In the 1830s, Catlin documented actual living cultures, but through a selective, romanticizing lens that served his own narrative purposes and white expectations.

George Catlin, White Cloud, Head Chief of the Iowas, 1844-45

George Catlin, Buffalo Bull's Back Fat, Head Chief, Blood Tribe, 1832

George Catlin, Sha-có-pay (The Six), Chief of the Plains Ojibwa, 1832

George Catlin, Buffalo Chase, A Single Death, 1832-33

Part III: Daguerreotypes of Native Leaders

Photography's "Truth"

Section Introduction (1 minute)

Now we enter the world of early photography. The daguerreotype—popular in the 1840s and 1850s—was widely believed to be an unfiltered truth machine. "The camera cannot lie," people said. Of course, the camera lies all the time.

Think about daguerreotypes of Native diplomats and political leaders made in Washington, D.C. The subjects sit stiffly, often wearing clothing chosen not by themselves but by the studio. The background is a curtain; the context is removed. A chief who is in town negotiating a treaty is shown instead as an anonymous figure of "Indianness," timeless and abstract.

Photography becomes a paradox: it feels factual, but it erases history. No hint of the debates happening in Congress, no glimpse of Native newspapers, no sign of the complex political strategies unfolding across the Great Plains and the Southwest. The photograph freezes a person in a moment that implies permanence.

Daguerreotypes of Native Leaders (1850s): Photography's "Truth"

The daguerreotype: Early photography popular in the 1840s-1850s, widely believed to be an "unfiltered truth machine"—"The camera cannot lie"
The reality: The camera lies all the time
Native leaders in Washington, D.C. studios:
- Subjects sat stiffly in clothing often chosen by the studio, not themselves
- Backgrounds were curtains—context removed
- Chiefs negotiating treaties shown as anonymous figures of "Indianness"—timeless and abstract
What's missing: No hint of Congressional debates, Native newspapers, or complex political strategies unfolding across the Great Plains and Southwest
The paradox: Photography feels factual, but it erases history. The photograph freezes a person in a moment that implies permanence—stripping away politics and modernity
The pattern emerging: Landscapes with no Native presence + portraits suggesting an older world + photographs stripping away politics = a systematic erasure

Native American daguerreotype, 1850s

Keokuk, Sauk leader, daguerreotype 1847

Native American daguerreotype, Carter collection

Native American daguerreotype, mid-19th century

Native American daguerreotype, 1850s

Photography's Cultural Power

By the 1860s-1870s: Photographers like Mathew Brady, Southworth & Hawes, and Timothy O'Sullivan taught Americans that photographs were windows onto reality
The shift: Photographs became data, evidence, proof
The belief: What the camera framed became what people believed
The impact: This conviction—which we still carry today—made photographic portrayals of the West immensely influential
Setting the stage: With this power established, images could shape not just perception, but policy and action

Photography's "Objective" Lie

The myth of "mechanical truth": Photography was believed to capture reality without bias or interpretation
The reality: Every photograph involves choices
- Photographer chooses framing
- Photographer chooses timing
- Photographer chooses subjects
- Photographer chooses what to include—and what to exclude
The danger: Photography claimed authority without accountability—people believed they were seeing "truth" when they were actually seeing the photographer's vision
The impact on the West: Photographic "evidence" of Indigenous peoples as timeless, disappearing figures became accepted as fact rather than interpretation

Part IV: Frontiersmen

The West Has New Protagonists

Frontiersmen: The West Has New Protagonists

New characters enter the visual narrative: White settlers
Key artists and works:
- George Caleb Bingham's "Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers"
- William Ranney's trail scenes
- C.C.A. Christensen's homesteading idylls
What these scenes communicate:
- The land welcomes them
- The atmosphere feels ordained
- Almost never a sense of conflict
- Settlers look modern, purposeful, and future-facing
The contrast with earlier images: If Indigenous people were isolated in elegiac stasis, these paintings give settlers dynamism—movement, narrative, destiny
The pattern now complete:
- The land appears empty
- Indigenous people appear frozen in time
- Settlers appear to inherit the future

Emanuel Leutze, Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way, 1861

Jasper Francis Cropsey, Autumn on the Hudson River, 1860

Part V: Edward Curtis and the Invention of Disappearance

Section Introduction (1 minute)

Now we stop withholding. Curtis enters around 1890–1910 and gathers the visual habits Americans had absorbed over seventy years. He stages scenes using older clothing, removes signs of modern life, edits out clocks, wagons, fences, sewing machines, and metal tools. He even retouches photographs to erase evidence of Native modernity.

Then he names his most famous image "The Vanishing Race."

This is the moment when students realize: Everything they've been noticing had a cultural destination. The earlier landscapes, portraits, and daguerreotypes weren't random. They prepared Americans to believe that Indigenous peoples were fading away, relics of premodern time. Curtis did not invent this idea; he crystallized it, aestheticized it, and marketed it in twenty volumes.

Edward Curtis and the Invention of Disappearance

Curtis enters the scene (1890s-1910s): Gathered the visual habits Americans had absorbed over seventy years
His methods:
- Staged scenes using older clothing
- Removed signs of modern life—clocks, wagons, fences, sewing machines, metal tools
- Retouched photographs to erase evidence of Native modernity
His most famous image: The Vanishing Race
The revelation: Everything we've been noticing had a cultural destination
The pattern revealed:
- Earlier landscapes, portraits, and daguerreotypes weren't random
- They prepared Americans to believe Indigenous peoples were fading away—relics of premodern time
- Curtis didn't invent this idea; he crystallized it, aestheticized it, and marketed it in twenty volumes
The concept: Historians call this entire tradition the Myth of the Vanishing Indian

Edward Curtis Gallery

Edward S. Curtis, The Vanishing Race, 1904

Edward S. Curtis, example of staged portraiture

Edward S. Curtis, Chief Joseph - Nez Perce, 1903

Reservation-Era Modernity: The Truth Curtis Hid

By the 1890s-early 1900s, Indigenous nations were:
- Forming political organizations
- Publishing newspapers
- Fighting court cases over land and sovereignty
- Sending children to tribal-run schools
- Creating new art forms
- Blending traditional governance with new strategies
- Wearing both traditional and modern clothing
- Shaping pan-tribal movements
The truth: Curtis's world is not a record of Indigenous society—it is a record of his own imagination
The reality: Reservation-era life was complex, creative, adaptive, and fiercely modern

What Curtis Refused to Photograph

Reservation confinement (1870s-1920s):
- Poverty, disease, ration systems
- Federal control of every aspect of life
- Forced assimilation policies
Indigenous people living in modernity:
- Adaptation, not disappearance
- Mixed economies, new technologies
- Maintaining identity while changing
- Fighting for sovereignty through law and politics
Curtis's erasure: He deliberately removed all evidence of this complex, modern reality to create his fantasy of timeless, disappearing peoples

The "Vanishing Race" Never Vanished

Today:
- 574 federally recognized tribes in the U.S.
- Millions of Indigenous people thriving
- Languages, cultures, sovereignty ongoing
- Political movements, cultural revitalization, legal victories
What actually vanished: Not Indigenous nations—but the ability of many Americans to imagine them as modern, political, creative peoples
The lesson: Images don't just reflect reality—they shape what people become capable of believing

The "vanishing race" never vanished. This was always a lie, always a myth designed to make genocide acceptable. There are 574 federally recognized tribes in the United States today. Millions of people identify as Native American or Alaska Native. Indigenous languages are being revitalized. Tribal governments exercise sovereignty. Indigenous scholars, artists, activists, writers are creating vibrant contemporary cultures while maintaining connections to deep histories.

Indigenous peoples didn't survive by remaining frozen in some imagined traditional past. They survived by adapting, by being strategic, by holding onto what mattered while changing what needed to change. They survived through incredible resistance, resilience, and creativity in the face of systematic attempts at cultural and physical genocide.

Conclusion: Seeing the West Again

What the Images Did:
- Landscapes made the continent look empty
- Portraits made Native people look timeless
- Daguerreotypes made them look frozen outside history
- Frontier paintings made settlers look like the rightful heirs
- Curtis gave the entire system a name: The Vanishing Race
The Truth: Indigenous nations did not vanish. What vanished was the ability of many 19th-century Americans to imagine them as modern, political, creative nations.
The Lesson: Images shape imagination—and imagination shapes history.
The Question: How do images shape what a nation becomes capable of believing?