This fascinating biography tells the story of Edward Curtis, a photographer who devoted his life to traveling around North America to capture images, stories, music, and languages of the indigenous population before traditional ways of life had completely disappeared. He began his quest in the late nineteenth century and persevered until the economic crash of 1929. His magnum opus became an elaborate twenty volume set of books called The North American Indian. Although he died in obscurity, for a time he was the most famous photographer in the United States. President Theodore Roosevelt wrote a glowing introduction to his works, and H.P. Morgan, at that time one of the world’s richest men, partially financed Curtis’s field trips.

Curtis was originally based out of Seattle, and his first subject was Princess Angeline, the only surviving child of Chief Seattle, the Native American leader from whom the city got its name. Curtis’s vision grew until he resolved to photograph and document all the Indian tribes whose people still clung to their traditional lifestyles. It was a race against time, not only because so many Native Americans had already been killed off through warfare and decimating diseases, but also because those that remained were being forcibly assimilated into mainstream American culture by missionaries and government agents. To accomplish his task, Curtis lived for long periods of time with Indian peoples throughout the western and central United States and as far north as the Arctic Circle in the then-territory of Alaska. His initial estimate to Morgan was that the twenty volumes would take him five years to complete, but it actually took thirty. In the early years his work was lauded, but as time passed he became more and more forgotten after his benefactors Morgan and Roosevelt died. Still, he persevered until his task was accomplished, despite living under the roughest of conditions and going deep into debt.

There is a profound lesson to be learned here about the life of an artist. A true artist relishes the work and accomplishes it for its own sake, fame or no fame and wealth or no wealth. I can relate to that as the author of numerous books, none of which have been read by many people. I keep writing because I can’t not write. As for Curtis, he gave everything he had until there was nothing left and then collapsed across the finish line, broken in body and spirit.

As I read Curtis’s story, I wondered what my friend and Clarion West classmate Russell Bates, a Kiowa Indian, would have made of it. I think he would have approved. Russ died several years ago, but when he was still alive he was my go-to person for all queries related to Native Americans. One issue was the name. He was so-so on the word “Indian” and he didn’t mind “Native American”; however, he had come up with his own nomenclature for how the indigenous peoples of the North American continent should be called. It wasn’t “Amer-Indian,” which he had considered; it was something else. I’ve been trying to remember it but so far it doesn’t come to mind. Anyway, once when I was living in Greece I wrote Russ and asked him for some recommendations of books on Native Americans, and he sent me a fairly extensive list of both fiction and nonfiction. I think that Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher, had it existed at the time, might have made that list. It is well-written and sympathetic to the people who were first on the land we now call home but were ruthlessly trodden under foot by the American government and land-hungry settlers.

The book contains numerous examples of Curtis’s photos, and they are stunning. Curtis was a true artist with a camera, a genius at capturing the essence of his subjects and their stories. I recognized some of the photos, and I’m sure I’ve heard Curtis’s name in the past, but not until I read this excellent book did I realize the value of his work.

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As an addendum to my appreciation of Edward Curtis’s life and works, I found a large and heavy coffee table book at the library called One Hundred Masterworks by Edward Curtis edited by Christopher Cardozo. Some of Curtis’s photos appear in Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher, but it is worthwhile viewing them in this larger, sharper format. As I perused the volume, I was in awe of the abiding excellence in all of his pictures, especially the ones that focus on individual likenesses. As Native American author Louise Erdrich points out in One Hundred Masterworks about his photos of women: “Curtis mastered the art of making his subject so dimensional, so present, so complete, that it is to me as though I am looking at the women through a window, as though they are really there in the print and in the paper, looking back at me.” I feel the same about Curtis’s portraitures of men, women, and children. He captures a lifelike intensity that makes you feel like at any moment they might come alive and speak to you.