Indian Homes
This image portrays my friend Mitch Williamson and his wife, Christine, who served as mentors for me. As a former POW, Mitch was a war hero, but he never spoke of it or flaunted his honors and years of service. He and Christine adopted me as their son.
After Mitch passed away, Christine’s niece, Dorothy, took over her care. Christine is the last of the traditional-speaking Sauk and Fox Indians.
Bertram Bobb, who passed away in 2015, was another tribal luminary who will be greatly missed. As a holy Choctaw medicine man, he had the power of the old ones, praying for tribal members and loved ones. He prayed for me as well.
Art was the head singer of the traditional Hidatsa singing group. I visited him every summer while traveling across Native America. Before he passed away in 2017, I visited Art for about an hour, when he spoke our traditional Hidatsa language. I was able to understand every word he said.
Clarine Dancing Bull paints her native language on her walls so she will never forget it. Here she is showing me her beadwork, which she is very proud of.
Harvey Charging Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara. He's the maker of war bonnets. He married into the Shashone tribe in Ethete Wyoming.
Philamena was another tribal member who greatly impacted me and maintained our traditional ways. She always spoke our Native language of Hidatsa when I was growing up on the reservation, and she fed us neighborhood kids with fry bread and beans. Her death in 2017 was a great loss to our tribe.
James says his evening prayers on the steps. I stoped and waited until he was done and then he called me in and I visited.
Here James Goggles tells me a hunting story of when he killed an elk. He stalked it all day and then prayed to its spirit after killing it, “Thank you, my brother elk. You will feed my family.” James takes care of his younger brother, Ernest, who has lung sickness.
The Wind River Reservation, where I have many friends, is always one of my stops during my cross-country road trips every year. I never miss an opportunity to visit my friend Reuben Willow and buy a piece of his artwork. Reuben carries on his traditions and culture through his art.
Located high atop a mesa, the Hopi reservation has no plumbing, so residents like Dominic and Mary have to haul their own water.
I photographed Barbara and her husband, Verdell, at their house on the Fort Peck reservation in northeastern Montana. Here Barbara holds traditional fry bread, as she stands in front of their government home.
To support other tribal members at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, Verdell buys their artwork and drawings—not only as a show of cultural pride, but also because he knows they need the money.
As seen here, my friend Lennis is very proud of his Crow heritage, religion, and tribal medicine.
This image portrays Lennis’s daughter Estee, who, though a young mother, is nonetheless steeped in tradition. She made sure that all of her children have Indian names, so when it’s time to go to the other side, the elders will recognize them.
Jerome Dancing Bull is a well-respected elder in my tribe. Because of this status and distinction, he is able to give out Indian names.
During my travels, I visited with this Native family all day—talking, laughing, and singing. We traded stories and compared creation myths telling of where our peoples originated.
I met this man on the street in New Mexico and learned that he was a war hero. Now he is homeless. He told me about the people he killed while serving as a sharpshooter during Desert Storm, saying that he awakes in the middle of the night to see their spirits standing in front of him. When I asked him if he needed anything, he said “only a bag of ice.”
When I encountered Michaela living on the streets in Albuquerque, I asked her what she was doing there. Hers was like many stories of homeless Natives. She and her husband came looking for work, a better life, but found something else: drugs and desperation. Her husband, she told me, got hooked on meth and crack, took their car and left. Now she and her two-month-old child, Giannis, live in a tent on the street.