There are many artists known for their paintings of the West, but the one whose work enthralls me the most is George Catlin. Working somewhat in the ‘naive’ style, Catlin’s life work was to capture the American Indian before they vanished, and this he did: his subjects came from over fifty nations.
Born in 1796 in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, later moving to upstate New York, Catlin’s fascination with American Indians started at an early age. His mother had regaled him with her tales of being a captive of the Iroquois during the Revolutionary War, and his cheek bore a scar from a ‘tomahawk’ thrown in a childhood game.
Ojibwa woman, ca. 1832
An encounter in 1805 with an Oneida may also have influenced him. Although he initially studied law, Catlin was accepted by the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts and started his career as a portraitist. Successful enough to be commissioned by clients such as Sam Houston and Dolly Madison, Catlin spent time in Philadelphia’s museums painting tribal costumes, weapons and ornaments brought back by Lewis and Clark. When a delegation of Native Americans came to Philadelphia in full regalia, his ambition took root.
Choctaw Stickball player, ca. 1834
Catlin began by painting people from the various tribes in upstate New York. His empathy for the Indians is obvious in his work, portraying them as individuals rather than savages—the general concept of the day. Catlin foresaw that they would soon be wiped from the earth by diseases such as small pox, and ills such as whiskey. When the Indian Removal Act of 1830 forced tribes of the southeast on the notorious Trail of Tears, Catlin decided—despite being recently married—to venture west.
Armed with letters of introduction as well as some of his earlier work, Catlin called upon William Clark in St. Louis. Clark was then Governor of Missouri Territory as well as Indian Agent for the Territory of the Upper Louisiana, the latter position giving him full authority over all Indian matters in the West. Clark let Catlin set up his easel in his office where he painted visiting Native Americans there to trade or for treaty matters.
Buffalo Bull’s Back Fat, a Blood Chief, ca. 1832
Subsequently, he and Clark became close friends, and Clark took Catlin up the Mississippi to a council with Sauks and Foxes, and again up the Missouri and overland to Kansas. Clark also posed for a full length portrait.
During six years from 1830 to 1836 Catlin traveled throughout the west, returning to his family for the winter. He painted warriors and women at work, villages, buffalo hunts, ceremonies and the scenery of the west, as well as everyday implements the Indians used. So many purportedly wanted their likenesses drawn, it was often necessary for Catlin to develop a shorthand of sketching and filling in later. In addition to painting the Plains Indians, he made trips up the Arkansas and Red Rivers, and into Florida and the Great Lakes.
A Mandan Village, ca. 1833
Catlin was determined that the world should see the American Indian through his paintings and, to this end, he started a series of exhibitions and lectures, including not only the paintings but artifacts and costumes he had collected as well. ‘Catlin’s Indian Gallery,’ as it was called, was largely successful and motivated him to approach Congress with the idea the collection should be bought as the basis for a museum. Despite the support of Daniel Webster, Henry Clay and William Seward, the resolution got no further than the House of Representatives.
This apparent failure prompted him to take the collection to London. There he received such popular support he remained for five years, the exhibitions evolving over time into a sort of Wild West show. This eventually went on to Paris where he was befriended by King Louis Phillipe and the paintings were exhibited in the Louvre.
A Choctaw woman, ca. 1834
However, when revolutionaries overthrew the King, Catlin was forced to return to England. Bankrupt and surrounded by creditors, he was bailed out by one Joseph Harrison of Philadelphia, who took possession of all the works.
By 1852, with his wife deceased and his children sent back to America, Catlin was persuaded by a Parisian acquaintance to go to Brazil in search of gold. He found no gold but proceeded to paint the indigenous peoples of South America over the next five years. He later made trips to Alaska and up the Columbia and Snake Rivers, crossing the Rockies and canoeing down the Rio Grande.
In 1870, Catlin returned to the United States. He had a collection of copies of his original works, which he now called a Cartoon Collection, as well as an historical
Okipa, a Mandan ceremony, ca. 1835
series he had done for Louis Phillipe. With the Indian Wars now raging in the west, Catlin received an invitation from the Smithsonian Institution to exhibit . Catlin saw this as his last chance to persuade the government to take possession of this pictorial record of a peoples and life that would soon vanish. But in 1872 Congress was more concerned with defeating the Indians rather than gaining pictures of them, and George Catlin passed away in October of that year, his life’s work packed away .
In 1879, the heirs of Joseph Harrison donated the original Catlin gallery to the government. Moth-eaten and with smoke and water damage, the Smithsonian restored them, finally putting them on show for seven years from 1883. In 1912, one of Catlin’s surviving daughters sold the cartoon collection to the American Museum of Natural History while others were in the collection of Paul Mellon, who donated them to the National Gallery of Art.
While Catlin’s work may not be regarded as great as a Remington or Russell, for me, the palette, the vitality of the paintings and the sincerity of the portraits is more enthralling than either artist.
George Catlin rests in a Brooklyn cemetery.
Boy Chief, Ojibbeway, ca. 1843
All photographs of paintings are public domain.
Andrea Downing 
Fascinating post Andrea. Keep them coming!
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Thanks Karen, wherever you are…
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One of the most lovely portraits that Catlin ever did was one of his good friend Joe Chadwick … who later died in the mass execution of Anglo-American volunteers at the Goliad. There was a most evocative account of this in American Heritage, once upon the day,
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Thanks so much for bringing that to my attention, Celia. Sadly, I’ve been unable to find a copy of the portrait on line but I imagine it’s owned by one of the museums.
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Great post Andi. I’ve admired his work without ever knowing the story. Thank you.
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Glad you found it informative, Paul. Thanks for your comment.
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Dear Andi,
I enjoyed this beautiful post. His color palette is lovely with its muted tones. I love that in painting his present, he gave us our past.
Thank you,
Arletta
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That is just so beautifully put, Arletta. Thanks so much.
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Hi Andi, I saw the collection in Washington, it’s just jaw-dropping to stand in that surrounded by these pictures of a lost world. Really enjoying your blog.
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Oops typo, I mean to say
to stand in that room
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Whichever way you say it, I am most definitely jealous! I’m hoping maybe some of the paintings are still here at the Museum of Natural History for me to see one day soon. Thanks for stopping by.
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Fascinating stuff and the pictures are so lifelike. Great article!
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Thanks so much, Hebby. Very kind of you to say so. I certainly found it fascinating!
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Such a good post! Although his name sounded familiar, I couldn’t place his work right off. But then some of the examples you used I’d seen, so I could make the connection. I especially like the portrait or the young chief, the last of the ones used above. One can see some of the young man’s personality-quire realistic.
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Yup, I really feel you get the personalities of the individuals in his paintings. You can see the sweetness of the Ojibwa women, the pride of Buffalo Bull’s Back Fat, and the slight uncertainty of his position in the Boy Chief. And the palette is so lovely, too. Thanks for your comment, Barb!
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I very much enjoyed this post. I loved seeing examples of his work and am glad he was driven to record a world we can only imagine now.
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Glad you enjoyed this post, Ashantay. He certainly does keep the subjects alive for us now. Thanks so much for your comment!
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I’ve seen his work (reproduced) and remembered his name so enjoyed reading about him. Too bad more whites didn’t see the Indian as individuals and visa versa. I’d love to hear his wife’s story. I expect she sometimes “damned his painting and his bloody Indians.” 🙂 Probably especially so when the kids were sick, they were about out of wood , and one cow went dry and the other got killed by a wolf or whatever roamed those parts.
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Not a lot was said about his wife in the research I did, although I did read that they were very much in love. Sadly, she died olong before he did, and he had to send the children to be brought up by her family. Not easy being married to a genius!
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I saw Caitlin’s work in the National Gallery this past June and was blown away. He is the equal of all early American painters of the period and has such an interesting story. No one of that period in the history of US painting can match his passion for the quest. Thanks for reminding us of his great life’s work.
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It’s interesting that he has generally been considered a ‘B’ painter yet I find his work very alive and intuitive—he certainly had great empathy for his subjects. Thanks so much for stopping by.
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What a fascinating story, Andi. I have been aware of George Catlin for some time, but had no idea how determined and talented he was. You might also be interested in Nights of the Shadowcatcher about Edward Curtis, by Tim Egan. Curtis did the same thing at Catlin did, only much later and in photographs. He, too, ended up broke. Sad stories for such enduring legacies of our American heritage.
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Julie, thanks so much for bringing Curtis to my attention. I’ll certainly try to get hold of the book–sounds fascinating.
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Glad you pasted this. I’d never heard of him. Fascinating art.
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Carmen, I’m so glad I brought him to your attention. He is, it’s true, not very well known, which is surprising considering his paintings are in major museums. Glad you found it fascinating.
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Great post, Andi, about George Catlin. He is someone who I’ve “crossed paths” with during my own research. I find his paintings mesmerizing. They make me wonder how admirable he must have been in order to gain accessibility among the different peoples he painted, and how accurately he portrayed them in all their wondrous colors, their pride showing through his canvas. Thanks for sharing your knowledge of him.
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I think he was certainly very single-minded about painting them all. And they were very curious about him and his use of colors. Thanks for stopping by!!
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