At the turn of the nineteenth century, the North American Indian became a cultural curiosity, scrutinized by such painters and sculptors as Charles Russell and Frederic Remington in remarkable reconstructions of prairie life that caputred the hearts of the American public. It was the time of the Wild West Show; it was the minting of the Buffalo Nickel, to mention a few commonly recognized commentaries on the presence of the Native American culture in our midst. In the spirit of this movement to acknowledge the indigenous people of the U.S., a photographer from Seattle sought to document some eighty Indian tribes by producing a "faithful" rendering of their appearance and folklore. Edward S. Curtis, a prominent studio photographer, determined to recreate the romantic past of days of Indian lore at a time when warfaring and hostilities toward the white population was safely relegated to melodrama. Curtis began his "cataloging" procedure by effecting a sense of inclusivity among various tribes, photographing men, women, and children in costume performing routine tasks, recreating Indian-like activities, and simply posing for their portrait. Over a period of twenty-three years, Curtis was able to publish these photographs bearing the title The North American Indian, which was amplified by his commentary. Twenty volumes of Moroccan leather-bound text provided an extraordinary document of his efforts accompanied by twenty folios each containing thirty-five large photogravure prints; the image were printed in a coppery tone on fine ivory paper. The effect was dramatic. The impact shared a similar intent to that of the mid-19th century documentation of the American Indian, painter George Catlin: to preserve a vanishing culture for posterity. Curtis defined his task: The pictures should be made according to the best of modern methods and of a size that the face might be studied as the Indian's own flesh.... The pictures were to be transcriptions for future generations that they might behold the Indian as nearly lifelike as possible as he moved about before he ever saw a paleface or knew there was anything human or in nature other than what he himself had seen. The subject of Curtis's photographs were seldom unaware of the camera. Dressed in native costume, sometimes with props provided by the photographer, young maidens and elderly chieftains alike contributed to the record of themselves somberly and, on occasion, winsomely. A young woman from the Pima tribe disguises a moment of laughter as she is caught with a woven basket balanced precariously on her head. An ancient tribesman presents the silence of his station wearing the feather bonnet that marks the position of importance. Closeup portraits identify individuals of note: Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce and Geronimo, whom Curtis had met at the White House during Theodore Roosevelt's inagural procession. Among the portraits Curtis also included staged activities: mounted Indians in a war party and sham battles similar to the Wild West Shows. In these photographs the reflection of popular taste for the warfaring Great Plains tribes appears as the focus of Curtis's images. On occasion Curtis was criticized for developing stereotypes of "Indianness," but a reading of the accompanying text suggests his awareness of this aim, perhaps demonstrating their small hope for the future as long as they retain the instincts of their past. There is a poignancy in these photographs that seeks an audience, more intent than by accident. Curtis's project was expensive. To produce in the highest available technology the limited edition of photographs and text, Curtis sought funding amongst his family, friends, and, eventually, President Theodore Roosevelt and financier J. Piermont Morgan. Morgan was so fascinated with Curtis's proposed endeavor that he pledged $15,000 per year for five years to cover the cost of production to be repaid in sales and books. Curtis was summarily engaged not only to make field trips to gather images of the Native Americans, but also to serve in the capacity of publisher and salesman to recoup the funds by selling subscriptions in advance of each volume's publication. Beginning in 1906 Curtis hired Frederick Webb Hodge as his editor. Hodge worked for the Smithsonian Institution and also edited The American Anthropologist. They undertook the first field trip to the lands of Apache, Navajo, and Hopi tribes, photographing peoples and their rituals and recording their ceremonies with Curtis's "motion picture machine." Throughout his subsequent years of gathering materials for his book, Curtis acquired audio recordings of the voices and music of the tribes, the earliest made on Edison Cylinders. His time spent raising money for the publication included lecures given around the country at which he introduced the music and language to scholars and other interested parties. The first two volumes were published in 1908. President Roosevelt wrote the forward to Volume I appreciating Curtis's efforts: "The Indian as he has hitherto been is on the point of passing away.... It would be a veritable calamity if a vivid and truthful record of these conditions were not kept." Roosevelt, who had engaged Curtis to photograph his family in 1904, wrote his introduction with the intention thatCUrtis might use it to gain funding for the publication. Very few of the Curtis publications exist intact today. Moravian College in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, recieved a gift from John W. Snyder in 1951 of a complete set of twenty volumes including the twenty portfolios of photogravures. It is from this collection, courtesy of the Payne Gallery, that Susquehanna University's Lore Degenstein Gallery is priveleged to show a selection of the large photogravures. We are deeply indebted to the Director, Les Reker, for arranging this loan for us.   Pima Matron. Edward S. Curtis. Photogravure from The Indians of North America, Volume II. 1907. 14.375 x 11.69" Collection of the Payne Gallery of Moravian College.