American Indian Artist Oscar Howe Wrestled With Art, Faith, Modernism And Native Identity
“Calling on Wakan Tanka” is a painting by Oscar Howe from the University of South Dakota art galleries and on display at the recent retrospective on Howe at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian in New York. Photo by Paul Glader.
(ANALYSIS) Paintings by Oscar Howe are ubiquitous in Vermillion, South Dakota, where I studied as an undergraduate at The University of South Dakota and where Howe worked and taught. Yet until I saw his work on display in a special retrospective “Dakota Modern” exhibition at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian in New York City (a block from the college where I work now), I never fully grasped the significance of Oscar Howe in American art and religion.
While in college, I recall seeing his work at the W.H. Over Museum, in hallways at the beautiful Old Main building on campus and in the home of the late William O. Farber, a legendary political science professor who lived right across from campus and knew Mr. Howe during their time on faculty together. In lower Manhattan this past March 11 until Sept. 11, Howe’s work was installed in the impressive Cass Gilbert-designed Beaux Arts building at One Bowling Green in lower Manhattan.
Inside the museum, the “Dakota Modern” exhibit of Howe’s work drew considerable press coverage even if visitors to the exhibit were sparse. The introduction panel to the exhibit notes that Howe, who lived from 1915 to 1983 until he died at age 68, “proved that art could be simultaneously modern and embedded” in Sioux culture and aesthetics. “To him there was no contradiction.”
The panel explained he did that by challenging the art establishment’s “preconceptions and definitions of Native American painting. In doing so, he catalyzed a movement among Native artists to express their individuality rather than conforming to an established style.”
“Howe is a frequently misunderstood American master,” wrote Peter Schjeldahl in The New Yorker. “He bridged ethnic authenticity and internationalist derring-do, though condescension from establishment institutions and proprietary tribute from some sectarian advocates have hindered his recognition as a straight-up canonical modernist.”
The exhibit showed work from Howe that spanned 40 years of his life, from his early days in high school in the 1930s to his more abstract and experimental works in the 1950s and ’60s. The works include a stunning 1960 image Howe painted of the Wounded Knee Massacre of 1890, with its rich colors of soldiers in a line of blue coats holding bloodied bayonets pointed into a group of Natives suffering anguish and death in a pit that runs with hues of red. Some of his paintings toggle between abstract expressionism, surrealism, cubism and other formats. Most of them pack incredible energy, movement and emotion into a frame.
“Wounded Knee Massacre” painting by Oscar Howe on exhibit at the Smithsonian. Photo by Paul Glader.
“Howe seldom repeated himself,” wrote Schjeldahl in his review. “Each work can feel one-off, fulfilling a special mission to a fare-thee-well. If any quality is consistent, it’s suddenness.”
Howe researched his subject in detail by reading, talking with elders, scrawling notes and making diagrams and outlines. He often painted on heavy, textured paper that reminded him of the animal hide his ancestors painted on, according to a piece in the Smithsonian magazine.
His biography helps explain how he developed his unusual approach to art. Born on the Crow Creek Reservation in South Dakota with the name Mazuha Hokshina, he was sent to Indian Boarding School in Pierre, South Dakota, at age 7 in 1922. The New Yorker reported that he contemplated suicide after his mother died of an illness and hindered by his own eye and skin diseases. He spent a year with his grandmother, Shell Face, who regaled him with stories of tribal history and mythology. He went back and finished school before heading to the groundbreaking Santa Fe Indian School in New Mexico, where he learned studio art from art teacher Dorothy Dunn — particularly the more basic flat or traditional style, with little dimension or background.
Howe then served in World War II, which is how he met his wife, Adelheid (Heidi) Hampel, a German woman. I was stunned and saddened watching the video in the exhibit to learn that Oscar and Heidi had to go to Illinois to be married because of miscegenation laws preventing mixed marriages in South Dakota.
Howe did come back to South Dakota and earned a bachelor’s degree in art from Dakota Wesleyan University in 1952 and a master of fine arts degree at the University of Oklahoma in 1953, pushing himself to learn and experiment with more complicated and innovative painting methods. As Howe inspired pride and challenged stereotypes about Native artwork, he also challenged stereotypes about Native culture and spirituality. He raised the question, “Who gets to define American Indian art?”
Hugged, snubbed, then honored at church
“Howe was raised with Dakota cultural and spiritual beliefs but was also an active Episcopalian,” the exhibit notes. “The blending of and interconnectedness between these two belief systems is apparent in his painting of Native and Christian cultural figures.” It points to his painting about Buffalo Calf Woman in which the wings of the eagle echo the appearance of an angel. Viewers also see Howe’s paintings of sun dancers in a transcendent state as resembling Jesus Christ.
Another stunning work in the exhibit is titled “Indian Christ”, which he painted with casein — an ancient type of milk-based, water-soluble, opaque paint found in prehistoric cave paintings — on paper in 1972. The work now hangs at a Lakota Museum at St. Joseph’s Indian School in Chamberlain, South Dakota. The work formed the basis for the mural Howe designed for the apse of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Vermillion, which Howe attended when he first moved there.
Indian Christ Mural
“We lost the Howe family’s attendance and we didn’t have Oscar’s quiet dignity present in our congregation.”
St. Paul’s website explains that Howe’s mother, Ella Fearless Bear Howe, was a devout Episcopalian who raised her son in the church. Yet when Howe and his family moved to Vermillion and started attending St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, he walked into an ongoing debate among the congregation about art in the church, particularly on a large black wall behind the altar. One church member challenged Howe to develop a mural, which inspired him to paint the smaller “Indian Christ” painting and to develop plans for a larger mural.
The church then quotes longtime church member Maxine Johnson saying the “people in charge” at the church didn’t let Howe complete the mural behind the altar. “There were always various reasons given such as it was too Catholic, we couldn’t have a picture of the crucified Christ in our church, especially portrayed as a Native American, etc.” She said the idea of the painting faded over time. “As a result, we lost the Howe family’s attendance and we didn’t have Oscar’s quiet dignity present in our congregation or the delightful personalities of his wife, Heidi, and daughter Inge Dawn.”
Over time, the “Indian Christ” painting went to the school in Chamberlain. A tapestry was made of it, and small versions were sold at gift shops. Over 30 years later and after Howe’s death, some St. Paul’s church members wondered what happened to the design plans for a mural. They found the plans and obtained permission to have two undergraduate art students at the University of South Dakota create the painting in its intended home to honor Oscar Howe. “Its quiet splendor enhances the beautiful stained glass windows designed by Gary Gurwell,” Johnson said.
In an interview with The Capital Journal in Pierre, South Dakota, Inge Howe Maresh — Howe’s daughter who manages his artist estate — responded to several questions, including one about the mysticism some critics observed in Howe’s art:
The definition of mysticism is the doctrine that states it is possible to communicate with God through contemplation and love without the medium of human reasoning. Another definition is that mysticism is the doctrine that asserts the possibility of attaining knowledge of spiritual truths through intuition acquired by fixed meditation. According to these two definitions, I would have to say yes. My father’s initial approach to creating a painting is the same as the skin painter who studied his skin three days before starting to paint. The importance of establishing three aesthetic points to create a balanced painting. These points when connected create a line of truth which is essential to telling a story visually. My father always established these points before beginning any painting. Connecting these points create lines of truth with strong spiritual content. The more you look at one of my father’s painting the more the spiritual aspects of (it) almost jump out at you. My father was a very spiritual person. It is my opinion that he depended on this spiritual life to guide his art. He was a very disciplined man. He never used drugs or alcohol to “enhance his art.” All the images he painted were drawn from his inner being.
Work Projects Administration murals for the Corn Palace
The exhibit also featured maquettes — small preliminary sketches — Howe made using tempera on paper mounted on cardboard as he was preparing murals in 1954 for the Corn Palace, a kitschy building in Mitchell, South Dakota, that is a source of pride in my home state as well as a useful place for events ranging from farm shows to wrestling meets to state high school basketball tournaments.
The 1954 Corn Palace theme featured “Agricultural Business, Religious and Social Phases of Life in South Dakota.” Howe’s murals included a sketch of a man carrying a maroon briefcase, wearing a boxy maroon suit and fedora and walking between two maroon skyscrapers amid a burst of white and yellow triangular light. A corresponding portrait features a priest in prayer in a church with the priest’s robes, book, altar, cross and other features in maroon, while yellow and white light bursts into the church from above. In looking at the work, I felt a sense of prairie optimism in the 1950s and a fusion of South Dakota colors and themes pulled into the lines and colors.
Another work in the exhibit features a set of 10 murals Howe painted for the Mobridge auditorium that include Native American rituals in one panel, followed by a Christian service in another panel in which a priest in black robes is anointing or baptizing two young American Indians as 10 others Natives watch in various states of kneeling prayer or solemn reverence.
This work was funded by the Work Projects Administration, as were some others Howe undertook. I wondered if Howe really wanted to do these kinds of public works or if he was forced to do so? I wondered if he felt demeaned by such work during hard economic times? The exhibit said Howe realized these works may not be the pinnacle of his achievement in the art world, but he called the Corn Palace job to design murals each year between 1948 and 1971 his “big chance” because these temporary murals, “constructed with three colors of corn, became a platform for Howe to reach an audience of everyday people from many walks of life.” He thought it brought Native and non-Native people together in South Dakota by emphasizing shared values and connections.
This painting “Umine Wacipi“ by Oscar Howe in 1958 stirred a conflict and reset acceptable boundaries for American Indian art. Photo by Paul Glader.
Howe was known for his quiet humility and graceful presence. Yet, one of his standout moments in art history came when he protested the major painting exhibit organized by Philbrook Art Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He’d participated for many years in the Philbrook competition, winning some years and serving as a judge other years. But in 1958, the judges rejected his creative contemporary painting “Umine Wacipi”, saying it was a fine painting but was “not Indian.” The painting’s title translates as “war and peace dance” and uses abstract shapes to represent the rhythmic sounds of drums and singing at a pow-wow. Howe was deeply insulted and fired back a reply that articulated why he was offended by the Philbrook’s restrictive definition of American Indian art and declaring his right to individualism. He ridiculed the “pretty, stylized pictures” the organization preferred. And he went on.
“Are we to be held back forever with one phase of Indian painting, with no right for individualism, dictated as the Indian has always been, put on reservations and treated like a child, and only the White man knows what is best for him,” he wrote. “Well, I am not going to stand for it. Indian Art can compete with any Art in the world, but not as a suppressed Art.”
The exhibit notes, “His protest put into words the concerns brewing in the Native artist community and served as a catalyst for institutional change; for decades to come, Howe’s letter was used by Native artists as a battle cry for the right to freely express themselves.” The staff at Philbrook did take the letter to heart and ended up expanding their criteria the following year.
“They realized what they were doing was far too restrictive,” exhibit curator Kathleen Ash-Milby told Smithsonian magazine writer Susannah Gardiner. “And it was holding Native artists back.”
The issues of identity and tribalism in American society or American Indian artwork have not necessarily become simpler since Oscar Howe’s time. Yet perhaps his personal example stands as bright and poignant as the colors and movement in the images he painted.
Oscar Howe broke through barriers. His spirit of openness and collaboration along with his talent allowed him to emerge as a successful artist — perhaps the most influential artist ever from South Dakota. He was humble enough to paint murals on the Corn Palace, knowing it would show his work to new audiences. He knew when to walk away and when or to protest when disrespected. He appeared willing to forgive and reconcile and restore friendships.
“He was a very spiritual man. His strong foundation in faith, hope and love were inspired by his family and culture. He was a man who was humble, kind and strong in character,” said Inge Howe Maresh, while receiving a posthumous award for her father from the University of South Dakota in 2021. “Trials in life come, but they can be overcome if one perseveres. Prejudice is universal and difficult to overcome, but education, empathy and a good attitude can go a long way to foster understanding and good will.”
Paul Glader is executive editor of ReligionUnplugged.com and a professor of journalism at The King’s College NYC. He has reported from dozens of countries for outlets ranging from The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Der Spiegel Online and others. He’s on Twitter @PaulGlader.