Photographer's Statement

"I'm often asked if I'm a Native American and the answer is that I'm not. I'm simply an individual who has come to enjoy and admire their traditions. Today we're losing traditions throughout the world and it's a loss that can never be recovered. My own traditions, whatever they were, have been lost after several generations of Americanization. As much as I enjoy and employ modern technologies, I place a great value on the past; it's our very soul.

"I don't pretend to know everything about the many Native American cultures and customs. I'll never understand most of it, but I'm interested and I'm learning. I'll always be an outsider, but hopefully respectful and respected.

"My interest in Native Americans, photographically, began when I visited Wounded Knee, South Dakota in July 1984, following a TV news report about the poverty there. It was a total culture shock for me, the 'cut hair' from the city. Although most people were friendly, I was overwhelmed by the living conditions of some. As the sun went down on that first day and the alcoholics closed in with outstretched hands, I fled in my shiny car, into the Badlands. I felt ashamed for running and for my relative wealth.

"I returned with a resolve and for the next two years I worked on a photo story about poverty stricken Wounded Knee. No magazine would touch what one editor termed 'another poor Indian story'. My own attitude was changing though. As I became more accustomed to their way of living, I realized that my original perception wasn't a totally accurate one. I saw past the drunks and became more aware of those who were working to teach the children about their heritage. And of those who were helping others plant gardens or build a visitor center. I turned my focus to the positive aspects rather than the negative. In spite of that, the project began to languish for lack of purpose.

"In 1990, a major photo event breathed new life into it and proved to be a turning point in my life. Ten Thousand Eyes was a national celebration of the 150th anniversary of photography. Photographers were asked to submit written accounts of what they'd be working on during a specific week in April. My project was one of eight chosen for national coverage and a film crew for PBS was assigned to join me at Wounded Knee. I was pleased to be an instrument by which national attention could be focused on the tiny community.

"A local TV station decided to get in on the act too, but couldn't send a crew all the way to South Dakota. They asked if I could do something local for them to cover. I tried for weeks to work out something and was about ready to give up when I located some dancers who were willing to work with me. When the day arrived it was cold with intermittent showers. I'd picked my location carefully, but the lighting was nothing like what I'd had in mind due to the clouds. Where was the sunset I'd planned for?

"I was under equipped for the conditions, but couldn't drop it because TV was there. I had to go on. The dancers danced and I shot with a small strobe light blinking away trying to do more than it was capable of. The results were far different than what I had intended. They were much better than what I was striving to create in a properly lit scene. The small shaft of light illuminated the dancers marvelously against a wall of dark red rock. Working in conditions that I would have otherwise abandoned, I'd created one of my best ever images: Lakota Grass and Traditional Dancers at Red Rocks.

"The rest of the week's weather was equally bad with rain and snow showers at Wounded Knee. If it hadn't been for the PBS crew, I'd have had an excuse to skip that trip too. It had been some time since my last visit to Wounded Knee, but my friends there welcomed me. They were pleased to let me into their homes, as they had many times before, but this time I was being followed by a small crowd. Over the next few days I created some of my favorite portraits of the people of Wounded Knee. We were all thrilled to see it on TV many months later.

"This done, there was no way that I could miss being there in December 1990 when there would be an observance of the 100th anniversary of the massacre at Wounded Knee in which Big Foot and his people were gunned down by federal troops. Seven generations later, it was a time for the mourning to end. The weather was bitterly cold with wind chill around 50 degrees below zero. Seeing 350 riders moving across the ridges and the prairie in blowing snow was an incredible, but elusive sight. I managed to intercept the riders a few times, sometimes having to sprint sizable distances to be in their path. The experience as hundreds of riders approached and enveloped me was exhilarating beyond description. Once I ran with others among the horses for as long as my legs and lungs would allow. The photograph of The Ride to Wounded Knee that I created that day is the single most important image that I've made thus far.

"The events of that year showed me what I wanted to do with my life. All I could think of doing with my camera from then on, was to continue working on creating more such images. I've always admired the work of Edward Curtis and his documentation of Native Americans earlier in this century. I've seen how much has changed since then and how much has already been forgotten. I see the importance of his work in helping to preserve what he did photograph. If I'm fortunate I can be another contributor to History as well as to art. And I can help Native Americans keep and cherish their traditions better than my own have been.

"While hiking in the mountains, I found a feather that had fallen from the wing of an eagle. My friends tell me that it's a blessing for the project. It means I'll go on."

James Cook

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