Who was George Catlin?

Scholars today, as did critics in Catlin's day, find it difficult to characterize the man, and it is true he showed many sides throughout his life and career. He was an artist, writer, historian, and reporter; an explorer, trailblazer, anthropologist, and geologist; a crusader, businessman, opportunist--and a Romantic.

As a youth growing up on a farm along the banks of the Susquehanna River in Broome County, New York, Catlin led a contented life. His mind was, no doubt, filled with stories of excitement and danger along the frontier, in large measure from the his parents' and grandfathers' experiences during the Revolutionary War. Catlin's mother and her father, who had fought against Native American allies of the British, were survivors of the Wyoming Valley Massacre of 1773; thereafter, Catlin's mother had briefly been held captive by the Iroquois. Though George Catlin had little experience with Native Americans prior to his travels as an adult, he did become acquainted with an Oneida, named On-O-Gong-Wa (Great Warrior), who camped with his wife and daughter for a time on the Catlin family farmland.

Perhaps George Catlin's decision to become an artist first revealed his resolve. His father had been a successful lawyer before health concerns caused him to quit his practice. In keeping with his family's wishes, George followed in his father's footsteps, attending law school and opening a practice with his brother. It was only when George's greater interest in art overcame his commitment to practicing law he took on his life's challenges. George's beginnings as a miniature portraitist were somewhat encouraging but lacked the potential for greatness that he craved. Thus, he turned to full-size portraiture. This shift seemed to have garnered some support from his family, as his father wrote in a letter of March 26, 1821: "I am pleased that you have at length resolved to attempt portraits, though you had convinced me last fall that miniatures were as valuable. Most painters of eminence have worked at portraits and history." (McCracken, p. 22)

Essentially self-trained, Catlin faced a great deal of competition in the field of portraiture. Many critics agree that the larger portraits revealed technical inconsistencies. (Dippie, p. 8) Though he had a full schedule of commissions in Philadelphia, Catlin gained little acclaim and faced discouraging reviews. "He needed to branch out and create his own niche or else be forever forgotten as just another failed portraitist." (Moore, p. 125) The turning point in his career may well have been his commission for a group portrait of the Virginia Constitutional Convention in Richmond. The inattention to proportion and awkward crowding of this painting seem to reveal Catlin's exasperation with his work.

"One day in Philadelphia, while [Catlin] was casting about for a higher purpose in life than portraiture, inspiration visited him." (Dippie, p. 10). The artist saw a group of Native Americans who were on their way to Washington, D.C. Catlin himself described the scene. "A delegation of some ten or fifteen noble and dignified-looking Indians, from the wilds of the 'Far West,' suddenly arrived in the city, arrayed in all their classic beauty--with shield and helmet-with tunic and manteau-tinted and tasseled off, exactly for the painter's palette. In silent and stoic dignity, these lords of the forest strutted about the city for a few days, wrapped in their pictorial robes, with their brows plumed with the quills of the war-eagle. ... Man, in the simplicity and loftiness of his nature, unrestrained and unfettered by disguises of art, is surely the most beautiful model for the painter--and the country from which he hails is unquestionably the best study or school of the arts in the world...and the history and customs of such a people, preserved by pictorial illustrations, are themes worthy the life-time of one man, and nothing short of the loss of my life shall prevent me from visiting their country, and becoming their historian...I set out on my arduous and perilous undertaking with the determination of reaching, ultimately, every tribe of Indians on the Continent of North America, and of bringing home faithful portraits of their principal personages, and full notes of their character and history. I designed, also, to procure their costumes, and a complete collection of their manufactures and weapons, and to perpetuate them in a gallery unique, for the use and instruction of future ages." (Catlin, Letters and Notes, cited in McCracken, p. 24)

The prevalent notion of Native Americans as a romantic and noble race destined to disappear under the advance of American society was in keeping with Catlin's own view prior to his travels. Catlin himself asked that his work be considered not for its artistic merit, but as a document of a bygone times. For Catlin, "the idea of a vanishing race would unify his work, lend poignancy to portraits and hunting scenes alike, allow him to transcend the literal and be an artist rather than a mere reporter. And it gave urgency to his mission to visit the remote tribes before civilization first debauched and then destroyed them." (Dippie, p. 17)

While in Philadelphia, Catlin brought his Romantic bent to Charles Willson Peale, one of "the most important scientific minds in America at the time," who with his artist sons was "undertaking the task of documenting and recording species of birds, geographical data, and plants in the 'new world.'" (Moore, pp. 123 - 125) Catlin's frequently visited the Peale's famous museum on the second floor of Independence Hall, where he saw "displays of the natural world and Native American West. There were stuffed mammals, birds and fish of North America, as well as rock and mineral specimens, insect and plant life. [Catlin] studied the Indian clothes, weapons, and crafts gathered by the Lewis and Clark Expedition. ... He saw his first sketches of the West, done by an artist on Major Stephen Long's journey up the Platte River to the Rockies in 1819 and 1820." (Sufrin, p. 14)

Catlin had an innate ability to forge friendships and associations with people in high positions. An early example was the relationship he developed with William Clark almost 30 years after the latter's famous expedition with Meriwether Lewis. Clark at 70 was the United States Superintendent of Indian Affairs and Governor of the Missouri Territory. No one could legally travel, trade, or trap along the frontier without the superintendent's permission. This legend imparted a great deal of knowledge about native tribes, and he owned the most important map of the American West then in existence. Originally drawn from sketch maps made on the expedition, the map had been constantly updated as mountain men and explorers visited Clark in St. Louis. Catlin studied this map in preparation for his travels and took inspiration from artifacts Clark had compiled over his years of contact with nearly every major Indian nation. (Sufrin, p. 26 - 27) It was Clark who arranged for Catlin to paint portraits of the St. Louis elite and to begin painting Native American when their delegations passed through town. And Clark who brought Catlin on his first trip into the frontier.

Catlin witnessed to several firsts, including first steamboat trip--on the Yellow Stone--up the Missouri River. The trip was risky, because "snags lurking below the surface on the muddy water could easily rip the hull open." (Moore, p. 133) The artist's presence on the army's expedition to make first diplomatic contact with tribes of the southern Plains is another example of the artist's remarkable ability to be an eyewitness to historic events. Catlin's later travels in South America and the North American west coast up to Alaska were no less precarious, if not as historical.

Though he never spoke a native language, Catlin was quick to participate in a buffalo hunt or observe sacred tribal ceremonies. He also kept careful notes detailing what he observed. He constantly painted, and collected such objects as tepees, tomahawks, peace pipes, saddles, dishes, bridles, arrows, leggings, war bonnets, knives, and clothing. He even went as far as to document his paintings with "Certificates of Authentication," signed by Indian agents or others who were witnesses to his work. A typical entry reads: "No. 131--Blackfoot, The Eagle Ribs (Pe-toh-pe-kiss). I hereby certify that this portrait was painted from life at Fort Union, mouth of the Yellowstone, in the year 1832, by George Catlin, and that the Indian sat in the costume in which it is painted. signed, John Sanford, United States Indian Agent." Today, Catlin is considered a pioneer in American ethnography (the study of specific cultures). Although his journals were quite detailed, the vast territory he covered and the often jumbled sequence of his travel notes makes it difficult to trace his experiences. In Letters and Notes, Catlin "asks his readers to grant him artistic license in his accounts and to pardon any narrations that seem exaggerated." (Domingue, p. 19)

After returning to the East, Catlin went to great lengths to present his Indian Gallery to the world. While popular at first, he also faced the public's apathy surrounding westward encroachment upon native tribes. Many also doubted the veracity of Catlin's stories and depictions. When he discovered that having Native Americans present at his exhibition increased attendance, he capitalized on his observation. In 1837, Catlin's invited his acquaintance Running Fox and 20 of his tribe, who were visiting New York City, to the exhibition. He publicized their appearance and doubled admission price to $1. Almost 2,000 people attended the exhibit. "After that, if possible, he always had Plains tribesmen wherever he exhibited." (Sufrin, p. 107)

The same year, Catlin began his seemingly endless goal selling Congress his collection as the core of a national museum. Catlin remarked, "I had encouraging assurances of its success," and that Daniel Webster declared the artist to have portrayed Native Americans "with more accuracy and truth...than in all the other drawings and representation on the face of the earth," and stated that the preservation of the collection would be an important public act. In the end, Congress rejected the purchase. This may have been in no small part due to his sympathetic view toward Native Americans, which was clearly contrary to the evolving government policy. Catlin expressed his beliefs plainly in 1841: "...if I have spoken...with a seeming bias, the reader will know what allowance to make for me, who am standing as the champion of a people, who have treated me kindly, of whom I feel bound to speak well, and who have no means of speaking for themselves." (Letters and Notes, cited in Moore, p. 133)

When American interest in his Gallery waned, Catlin--accompanied by his wife, Clara, and their two young daughters--transported the entire eight-ton exhibition to Europe. The next decade brought dizzying extremes: financial success, artistic appreciation, celebrity, and eventually, heartache and bankruptcy. London received his exhibitions enthusiastically at first, and Catlin toured with his show, which featured Native American performers. He financed the publication of his monumental work Letters and Notes, but the incredibly expensive volumes did not sell. By 1843, a third daughter and a son had been born. Two years later, while Catlin was exhibiting in Paris, Clara died of pneumonia, and the next year, his two-year-old son died of typhoid fever. That same year, some of his Ojibwa performers contracted smallpox; two of them died. The political upheavals of 1848 and diminishing attendance brought Catlin to bankruptcy in 1852, when he sent his daughters to live with relatives in the United States. He didn't see them again until 1870. Catlin's adaptations of "Wild West Shows" for entertainment have been sorely criticized: "It was that subtle switch from artist, explorer, and ethnographer to showman and promoter that would bring sadness and ruin to his life." (Sufrin, p. 107)

The serendipitous sale of the Indian Gallery to Joseph Harrison, an American industrialist, wiped out Catlin's debts and restored his inimitable spirit. He recalled: My "occupation gone, and with no other means on earth than my hands and my brush, and less than half of a life, at best, before me, as will all that is human and mortal, my thoughts tended towards Dame Fortune. ... In this state of mind, therefore, into one of the eccentric adventures of my chequered life I was easily led." (Last Rambles, p. 52) This final "eccentric adventure" led him initially to South America in search of gold, only to find himself painting and writing once again among the native peoples, in South America and along the the west coast of the United States.

After his "last rambles," Catlin painted in Europe again for some years before he returned to the United States in 1870. His work had been largely forgotten. He made the prophetic statement: "I have devoted fourteen years of my life, and all my earthly means, in visiting these scattered and remote people, and with my toils and privations, I have had my enjoyments...My works are done, and as well as I could do them under the circumstances. I have quoted no one; but have painted and written the things that I saw and heard, and of nothing else. My works will probably be published in full (too late for my benefit), but for the benefit and instruction of others who come behind me." (Last Rambles, p. 357)

George Catlin never realized his early dreams, but remained a dreamer and adventurer until the end of his life. He trained no followers, yet the images he created influenced a generation of American perception of the West and remain important historical documents today. And, though perhaps going into his travels with a romantic notion of the noble savage, Catlin's firsthand experience led him to create a body of work sensitive to his sitters as individuals, not only as romanticized types. "Catlin's best portraits retain their power to astonish. They show individuals, not merely exotics in colorful costumes. Catlin captured personality...Hairstyles and accessories aside, his faces are those of ordinary human beings..." (Dippie, p. 437)