Post by wyandotte303 on May 23, 2018 1:14:32 GMT -5
Although I signed up about two years ago, I'm now ready to explore my topic of interest—pre-reservation-era Plains Indian ledgers. I have followed some of the comments and links here, and I'm impressed with the breadth of knowledge in this forum.
My interest in ledger books began in 1982, when I saw firsthand the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger at the Colorado Historical Society. At that time, I was an exhibits team member working on a large state history exhibit. I distinctly remember that the ledger was in pieces—everything from large chunks to single loose pages. Even so, it was a thrilling look into the artistry of another culture—and a vibrant art it was. When I saw it again, about two years later, it had been transformed into a single, bound pristine-like book within its original cover, the product of conservation work to make it presentable for an exhibit called "Worlds Apart: Indians and Whites in Early Colorado." At the time, I welcomed the restoration of the ledger, as if it had returned to its natural state when Cheyenne artists entered their drawings into it.
Then, in 1996, I had the opportunity to work with Jean Afton, David Halaas, and Andy Masich in their research and interpretation of the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger, which became the scholarly publication Cheyenne Dog Soldiers: A Ledgerbook History of Coups and Combat (1997). This ground-breaking study attempted to correlate ledger drawings with known historical events—the most telling among them the raids on Julesburg and Camp Rankin (later Fort Sedgwick) in January and February 1865. As the research progressed, it became clear that scenes from the Julesburg attacks were scattered throughout the ledger and by several different artists. At one point, I reflected on my first view of the ledger as a series of detached signatures and drawings, not as a single bound volume, and it occurred to me that the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger, like most books, consisted of a series of separable signatures rather than a solid block of pages. Perhaps the ledger's artists had been working on separate parts of the book at one time, not long after the raids, and returned them to the protection of the cover between each encounter. That hypothesis is the basis of my research at present.
My interest in ledger books began in 1982, when I saw firsthand the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger at the Colorado Historical Society. At that time, I was an exhibits team member working on a large state history exhibit. I distinctly remember that the ledger was in pieces—everything from large chunks to single loose pages. Even so, it was a thrilling look into the artistry of another culture—and a vibrant art it was. When I saw it again, about two years later, it had been transformed into a single, bound pristine-like book within its original cover, the product of conservation work to make it presentable for an exhibit called "Worlds Apart: Indians and Whites in Early Colorado." At the time, I welcomed the restoration of the ledger, as if it had returned to its natural state when Cheyenne artists entered their drawings into it.
Then, in 1996, I had the opportunity to work with Jean Afton, David Halaas, and Andy Masich in their research and interpretation of the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger, which became the scholarly publication Cheyenne Dog Soldiers: A Ledgerbook History of Coups and Combat (1997). This ground-breaking study attempted to correlate ledger drawings with known historical events—the most telling among them the raids on Julesburg and Camp Rankin (later Fort Sedgwick) in January and February 1865. As the research progressed, it became clear that scenes from the Julesburg attacks were scattered throughout the ledger and by several different artists. At one point, I reflected on my first view of the ledger as a series of detached signatures and drawings, not as a single bound volume, and it occurred to me that the Cheyenne Dog Soldier ledger, like most books, consisted of a series of separable signatures rather than a solid block of pages. Perhaps the ledger's artists had been working on separate parts of the book at one time, not long after the raids, and returned them to the protection of the cover between each encounter. That hypothesis is the basis of my research at present.