Inland, Dreaming of Waves

A little culture

Then I toured two collections: Enduring Spirit: Native American Artistic Traditions and the American West. At the beginning of the Indian art section, a placard stated that 12,000 Indians served in World War I, hence Congress’s passage of the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924. (I’ll bet it wasn’t until the 1960s that they got to vote much.) American Indians have the highest rate of war service of any group in the United States.

I saw ledger paintings on buffalo hide (one by Virginia Stroud), beadwork, and a collection of masks from Central America in a hallway. I wrote that a painting titled Mother and Daughter by Solomon McCombs (Creek) was “just beautiful.” But I can’t see it in my head anymore. I’m going to try to find a reproduction of it in a book. Those are the pieces I remember, though I know there were lots of sculptures and paintings.

Then I followed Beverly Drymon’s recommendation to tour the Vista Room (“It’s the most beautiful view in Oklahoma”). It is indeed an impressive view, though my camera couldn’t do it justice. While there, I looked at prints from Mark Catesby’s collection, A Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahamas. I believe one of the paintings was of a passenger pigeon, which went extinct in 1914. It’s not bad-looking for a pigeon.

I remember more of the paintings from the American West collection, which bothers me a little. Perhaps I’ve seen paintings by those artists in the past. For example, The Hungry Moon by Frederic Remington had a greenish tone I liked. Another one I noted was Midnight Scouting Party. He was famous for his paintings of night scenes. In addition, Remington did illustrations for magazines, which he painted in black and white oils. I’d never heard of that before.

The paintings by Thomas Moran seemed awfully familiar, until I read the description of his development as an artist—he studied Turner’s works in England. So it was his use of light that reminded me of Turner. I liked Shoshone Falls.

Gilcrease boasts an impressive collection of George Catlin’s paintings of Indians and the West. I thought his style rather primitive, but I liked it. In his lifetime, Catlin had great trouble interesting anyone in his paintings—I think nineteenth-century Americans wished that Indians would disappear. He toured with his paintings in Europe, but ultimately he died in debt. Now, his paintings constitute a valuable record.

I came across one painting that made me wish I could teleport my father-in-law to the museum. Titled Meat’s Not Meat Till It’s in the Pan, it showed a frustrated hunter gazing down a cliff to the bighorn sheep that fell just out of his reach on a ledge: http://www.earthstores.com/gilcreasemuseumshop/. (You’ll have to click on “Prints” and and then "Poster Prints" and then scroll down to find the title. There’s a Remington print on the same page.)

After leaving the museum, I followed Beverly’s directions (mostly—I took the wrong road once and had to double back) to the “Riverwalk.” It disappointed me; it was nothing more nor less than strip malls along a parkway along a park along the Arkansas River. I was expecting lots of funky shops and maybe some areas planted with native species, as they did along the Platte River in Denver. Along the road, in the median, stood signs saying, “Up with Trees: In memory of …” Finally I figured out that Up with Trees was a cancer center and the signs celebrated survivors. I did some copyediting at Starbucks and then went to the park, which was nice. And the Arkansas River seems like a proper river to me, not these narrow, shallow things we have in Colorado. All in all, I like Tulsa. Someday I'll spend more time here.

Then I headed south on Highway 75 to Dallas. When it branched off to the left, I didn’t notice and ended up on the Indian Nation Turnpike. There signs warned, “Do Not Drive into Smoke.” At 4:19 pm, I smelled smoke; it was 666 miles since I’d left Cheyenne Bottoms in central Kansas. I crossed Muddy Boggy River near Atoka and Clear Boggy Creek. I called Aunt Pat and told her I’d be late. Later I stopped in Durant to pee at a gas station, which included a Burger King, gas, convenience store, and Choctaw Casino.

In Texas, the roadsides were blooming with Indian paintbrush and a purple flower. These flowers look like Mexican evening primrose. Some of the medians and roadsides were a riot of colors.

I didn’t get to my aunt’s house until about 7, and she had a nice dinner waiting for me, Cornish hens and stuffing and rice. It was very thoughtful of her.

posted by Price of Silence @ 10:08 PM