Angel De Cora (1871–1919) was born on the Winnebago reservation in Nebraska. She attended a reservation school for four years before entering Hampton in 1883. She stayed at Hampton for five years, returned to Nebraska for a brief period, and then went back to Hampton. She was editor of Talks and Thoughts from 1890 to 1891. After graduating from Hampton in 1891, she briefly attended a private school in Massachusetts and then went on to study art at Smith College, Drexel Institute, and the Cowles Art School. In 1899 she published two illustrated short stories in Harper’s Monthly, “The Sick Child” and “Gray Wolf’s Daughter.” From 1899 until 1906 she maintained studios in Boston and then New York City. During this time she illustrated several books, including Francis La Flesche’s The Middle Five (1900) and Zitkala-Ša’s Old Indian Legends (1901). Commissioner of Indian Affairs Francis E. Leupp appointed De Cora instructor of Indian arts at Carlisle in 1906. She held the position until 1915, during which time she worked to cultivate and preserve her students’ artistic talents and promoted the value of Indian art to American culture. She published autobiographical sketches and essays on the contributions of Indian art to American art in the Southern Workman and the Red Man. She also lectured on Indian Affairs and was an active member of the Society of American Indians.
De Cora died from pneumonia in 1919. After hearing of her untimely death, Gertrude Bonnin paid tribute to her friend and fellow activist in her Summer 1919 editorial in the American Indian Magazine. Bonnin explained that De Cora’s commitment to the work of the SAI was so strong that in her will she bequeathed $3,000 to the SAI. Bonnin writes, “The gift is a sacred trust! Such faith in her own race inspires us to our uttermost effort. Angel De Cora Dietz, living and dying, has left us a noble example of devotion to our people. (Gere, “Art of Survivance,” 649–84; Littlefield and Parins, Biobibliography: Supplement, 199; Peyer, American Indian Nonfiction, 325–27; Peyer, Singing Spirit, 43–44; Bonnin, Editorial, 62)
A great many have heard of Winnebago Indians, but very few have taken the trouble to study the character of the tribe. Many have passed through the reservation and their remarks are anything but flattering. The Winnebagoes were moved to their present home in the northeastern part of Nebraska in 1863 during the Sioux trouble. Since then very little has been done towards the civilization of the tribe,—that is, civilization in its truest meaning. Most of the Indians are farmers and live in frame houses. They use the English language to quite an extent, but their morals are bad. They have adopted all the vices of their white neighbors and these, added to their own, give the tribe a name not altogether enviable.
The sacredness of home life is but little appreciated now, although in the past it was one of their virtues. The old people tell of the strict ways in which they were brought up, and speak sorrowfully of the present. I do not think that the influence of the old people is so bad as some people say it is. The morality of the place is determined by the young people. They have thrown off all that reverence for age that used to be so noticeable a feature. They want to live in the “white man’s way” as they call it; and are willing to give the last penny they have in order to have a carriage, and other luxuries that do not help them very much. As a rule they are careful about their personal appearance, but here and there may be a family which does not take very much interest in anything beside the food it eats. I have said that most of them live in frame houses, but not more than two families in the whole community know how to beautify their homes and make them attractive. They may keep their homes perfectly clean, but they do not know anything of the use of flowers about the house and yard. As to the food and the cooking of it, the rapid decrease of the population tells that story better than I can. Surely a field matron is much needed.
The rough class of white people around the Indians do a great deal of harm to the Indians by selling liquor to them. It is true that the law forbids the selling of whiskey to Indians, but they avoid it by a system of what is called the “underground saloons.” A few years ago a half-breed was found keeping one of these saloons; the law laid a slight punishment upon him, but it is doubtful whether it stopped him. One day a white man, while driving past some Indians, got one of his horses in the mire. Naturally they helped him out of his trouble. He expressed his gratitude by smuggling whiskey from the nearest town to these thirsty souls.
There is an old religious dance called the “Medicine Dance,” which in its day was really pure and helpful, but is now only an excuse for all sorts of most degrading amusements. This dance always comes off on Sundays, and men and women who take part in it usually manage to drink a great deal. Perhaps some people might feel shocked at the thought of women drinking with men, but, since the old days of the subjugation of woman have passed away, she is on an equality with the man, and sometimes she carries herself even lower than a man would. Such women cannot be expected to be very good mothers and there are enough sad examples to show what this kind of motherhood is doing for the present generation. The girls are given away in marriage when they are scarcely in their teens, and those who have minds of their own generally follow the example of their parents by running off with some ruffian. The same parents encourage their children to drink, for to them it stands for manliness. At no time does a woman feel her importance more than when she is supporting her staggering, bleared-eyed heir away from the crowd at some feast or dance. It is one of the most pitiful things to hear parents tell of making their little children drunk, but that is not uncommon among my people. Of course with such, marriage can be but loosely held, and although they are often married by proper form, they leave each other as soon as they are tired of living together. Is it then any wonder that girls who have been to school, after going back home, “go back to the blanket?” While I do not try to justify them, I can but feel that they are not so much to blame as those who have better surroundings and better developed consciences. This is the sort of life that is waiting for us Winnebagoes, and whether we want to or not, it is our duty to do what we can for our people.
“Shall we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we, to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?”
Let us, who are members of this unfortunate tribe, strive to prepare ourselves to elevate our people into a higher civilization. The responsibility is ours.1
The time has not been long enough since the subject was put into practice to show some of the possibilities of adapting Indian art to modern usages.2
Indians, like any other race in its primitive state, are gifted in original ideas of ornamentation. The pictorial talent is common to all young Indians.
The method of educating the Indian in the past was to attempt to transform him into a brown Caucasian within the space of five years or little more. The educators made every effort to convince the Indian that any custom or habit that was not familiar to the white man showed savagery and degradation. A general attempt was made to bring him “up to date.” The Indian, who is so bound up in tribal laws and customs, knew not where to make the distinction, nor what of his natural instincts to discard, and the consequence was that he either became superficial and arrogant and denied his race, or he grew dispirited and silent.
In my one year’s work with the Indians at Carlisle I am convinced that the young Indians of the present day are still gifted in the pictorial art.
Heretofore, the Indian pupil has been put through the same public school course as the white child, with no regard for his hereditary difference of mind and habit of life; yet, though the only art instruction is the white man’s art, the Indian, even here, does as well and often better than the white child, for his accurate eye and skillful hand serve him well in anything that requires delicacy of handiwork.
In exhibitions of Indian schoolwork, generally, the only trace of Indian one sees are some of the signatures denoting clannish names. In looking over my pupils’ native design work, I cannot help calling to mind the Indian woman, untaught and unhampered by white man’s ideas of art, making beautiful and intricate designs on her pottery, baskets, and beaded articles, which show the inborn talent. She sits in the open, drawing her inspiration from the broad aspects of Nature. Her zig-zag line indicates the line of the hills in the distance, and the blue and white background so usual in the Indian color scheme denotes the sky. Her bold touches of green and red and yellow she has learned from Nature’s own use of those colors in the green grass and flowers, and the soft tones that were the general tone of ground color in the days of skin garments, are to her as the parched grass and the desert. She makes her strong color contrasts under the glare of the sun, whose brilliancy makes even her bright tones seem softened into tints. This scheme of color has been called barbaric and crude, but then one must remember that in the days when the Indian woman made all her own color, mostly of vegetable dyes, she couldn’t produce any of the strong glaring colors they now get in analine dyes.
The white man has tried to teach the young Indian that in order to be a so-called civilized person, he must discard all such barbarisms.
It must be remembered that most of the Indians of the Carlisle school have been under civilizing influences from early youth and have, in many instances, entirely lost the tradition of their people. But even a few months have proved to me that none of their Indian instincts have perished but have only lain dormant. Once awakened it immediately became active and produced within a year some of the designs that you have seen.
I have taken care to leave my pupils’ creative faculty absolutely independent and to let each student draw from his own mind, true to his own thought, and, as much as possible, true to his tribal method of symbolic design.
The work now produced at Carlisle, in comparison with that of general schoolwork, would impress one with the great difference between the white and Indian designer. No two Indian drawings are alike and every one is original work. Each artist has his own style. What is more, the best designs were made by my artist pupils away from my supervision. They came to me for material to take to their rooms and some of the designs for rugs that you have seen were made in the students’ play hour, away from the influence of others—alone with their inspiration—as an artist should work. It may interest you to know that my pupils never use practice paper. With steady and unhesitating hand and mind, they put down permanently the lines and color combinations that you see in their designs.
We can perpetuate the use of Indian designs by applying them on modem articles of use and ornament that the Indian is taught to make. I ask my pupils to make a design for a frieze for wall decoration, also borders for printing, designs for embroidery of all kinds, for woodcarving and pyrography, and designs for rugs.
I studied the Persian art of weaving from some Persians, because I saw from the start that the style of conventional designing produced by Indian School pupils suggested more for this kind of weaving. We shall use the Navajo method as well, but the oriental method allows more freedom to carry out the more intricate designs. The East Indian and the American Indian designs are somewhat similar in line and color, especially those of the Kasak make.
I discourage any floral designs such as are seen in Ojibway beadwork. Indian art seldom made any use of the details of plant forms, but typified nature in its broader aspects, using also animal forms and symbols of human life.
With just a little further work along these lines I feel that we shall be ready to adapt our Indian talents to the daily needs and uses of modern life. We want to find a place for our art even as the Japanese have found a place for theirs, throughout the civilized world. The young Indian is now mastering all the industrial trades, and according to the wishes of the Honorable Indian Commissioner, there is no reason why the Indian workman should not leave his own artistic mark on what he produces.3
I was born in a wigwam, of Indian parents. My father was the fourth son of the hereditary chief of the Winnebagoes. My mother, in her childhood, had had a little training in a convent, but when she married my father she gave up all her foreign training and made a good, industrious Indian wife.
During the summers we lived on the reservation, my mother cultivating her garden and my father playing the chief’s son. During the winter we used to follow the chase away off the Reservation, along rivers and forests. My father provided not only for his family then, but his father’s also. We were always moving camp. As a child, my life was ideal. In all my childhood I never received a cross word from any one, but nevertheless, my training was incessant. About as early as I can remember, I was lulled to sleep night after night by my father’s or grandparent’s recital of laws and customs that had regulated the daily life of my grandsires for generations and generations, and in the morning I was awakened by the same counseling. Under the influence of such precepts and customs, I acquired the general bearing of a well-counseled Indian child, rather reserved, respectful, and mild in manner.
A very promising career must have been laid out for me by my grandparents, but a strange white man interrupted it.
I had been entered in the reservation school but a few days when a strange white man appeared there. He asked me through an interpreter if I would like to ride in a steam car. I had never seen one, and six of the other children seemed enthusiastic about it and they were going to try, so I decided to join them, too. The next morning at sunrise we were piled into a wagon and driven to the nearest railroad station, thirty miles away. We did get the promised ride. We rode three days and three nights until we reached Hampton, VA.
My parents found it out, but too late.
Three years later when I returned to my mother, she told me that for months she wept and mourned for me. My father and the old chief and his wife had died, and with them the old Indian life was gone.
I returned to Hampton, and after graduation, some of my teachers prevailed upon me not to return home as I was still too young and immature to do much good among my people.
I went to Northampton, Mass., and through the efforts of some friends there, I entered the Burnham Classical School for Girls, and later when I decided to take up the study of art, I entered the Smith College Art Department, taking the four years’ course under Dwight W. Tryon. During my study in Northampton, I worked for my board and lodging and also earned my four years’ tuition at Smith College by holding one of the custodianships of the Art Gallery. The instruction I received and the influence I gained from Mr. Tryon has left a lasting impression upon me.
After the four years at Smith College, I went to Drexel Institute, Philadelphia, to study illustration with Howard Pyle, and remained his pupil for over two years.
While at this Institute I used to hear a great deal of discussion among the students, and instructors as well, on the sentiments of “Commercial” art and “Art for art’s sake.” I was swayed back and forth by the conflicting views, and finally I left Philadelphia and went to Boston.
I had heard of Joseph DeCamp as a great teacher, so I entered the Cowles Art School, where he was the instructor in life drawing. Within a year, however, he gave up his teaching there but he recommended me to the Museum of Fine Arts in the same city, where Frank Benson and Edmund C. Tarbell are instructors, and for two years I studied with them.
I opened a studio in Boston and did some illustrative work for Small & Maynard Company, and for Ginn & Company. I also did some designing, although while in art schools I had never taken any special interest in that branch of art. Perhaps it was well that I had not over studied the prescribed methods of European decoration, for then my aboriginal qualities could never have asserted themselves.
I left Boston and went to New York City, and while I did some illustrating, portrait and landscape work, I found designing a more lucrative branch of art.
Although at times I yearn to express myself in landscape art, I feel that designing is the best channel in which to convey the native qualities of the Indian’s decorative talent.
In 1906, Hon. Francis E. Leupp, Commissioner of Indian Affairs, appointed me to the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania to foster the native talents of the Indian students there. There is no doubt that the young Indian has a talent for the pictorial art, and the Indian’s artistic conception is well worth recognition, and the school-trained Indians of Carlisle are developing it into possible use that it may become his contribution to American Art.4