Atlas for a Destroyed World:Frank Day's Painting as Work of Nonvital Revitalization Mark Minch-de Leon (bio) Once in a while I take up color and paint a little bit, because, if I do not do this, all things will be forgotten. It's good enough all right to sing and talk and explain things on these broadcasts here or especially on tape recording or in records, but it's also nice to have someone who's able to print this or illustrate by color upon a chart. And then it would remain that way. You cannot change it then. And then you've got to be honest and true about it, and not copying from anybody else. But just translating the language, the Maidu language, and putting it up on a chart. And this shows exactly how the Maidu people had been doing before the coming of the white man. —frank day, self-recording, 1975 All the things that I have illustrated here by drawings, paintings, is true because I went to see it. I'm able to take you back to it. —frank day, interview, 1963 All Things Will Be Forgotten Outside of California Indian communities and art and academic circles, Frank Day is largely unknown. His obscurity is compounded by the still mostly unacknowledged catastrophic conditions of his people, the Kóyo•mkàwi Maidu.1 Born in 1902 in the Northern California Sierra Nevada foothills, by Day's own account, he saw the end of a way of life, the end of a world. His grandparents' generation had experienced massacres, abductions, sexual violence, enslavement, removals, and confinement. Day himself was taken as a child and placed in a federal boarding school for forced assimilation. An overdetermined silence on the destruction was created by few survivors, laws barring Indian testimony, settler-centric media, interdictions on speaking of the dead, suppression of languages, abduction of children, and legal prohibitions against ceremonies and gatherings, including for mourning. The continuing pressures of land loss, extreme poverty, lack of political representation, enforced western culture and epistemology, and racism compounded these initial conditions, foreclosing the Maidu relationship to [End Page 56] death in an ongoing catastrophe. Dying in 1976 in the midst of such disaster, Day spent the last sixteen or so years of his life documenting the Maidu world in paint and on recording tape so that things would not be forgotten. The above epigraphs make clear that Day's project of anamnesis is a matter of Indigenous informatics and cartography. Day used paint and tape, images and words to code information and map the (destruction of the) Maidu world in order to transmit information across space and time. The politics of information in this context is fraught, thanks in part to the early twentieth-century anthropological project of salvage ethnography and the critiques it has provoked. In salvage ethnography, much has been written on the separation between those who had direct experience with "traditional" ways of life and those with mere memories. Much scholarship also exists that reframes and sometimes reclaims the work of so-called informants outside such a notion of salvage. This is especially true of Day's generation, who were represented as a bridge between those who lived more traditional lifestyles and the postassimilation generations. These ancestors have, of course, left us an amazing gift in the information they provided, risking the dangers of colonial knowledge-making enterprises to sow the seeds for revitalization projects. The claims of our ancestors to provide access to their worlds are not often taken at face value, with a critical ethics intervening to oppose evaluations of authenticity.2 Focusing on authenticity and its critique, however, risks overemphasizing problematics set out by fields of study such as anthropology and art history, predetermining how we hear the words and see the images of our ancestors and leaving us circling around these knowledge formations in a critical posture, fascinated and revulsed. On the other hand, hearing and seeing our ancestors' mediations too literally, with an ear and eye for realism, couch their often subtle strategies and our Indigenous modes of being in a western metaphysical formalism that consolidates an Indigenous subject and...
Read full abstract