|
Home
- Introduction
- Preserving
Indian Culture
- Angel
DeCora and Indian Art
- Arizona
With Roosevelt
- Busoni's
Indian Fantasy
- African-
American Music
- Defending
American Folk Music
- Natalie's
Legacy
- Endnotes
- Readings
|
Standing Up
to Eurocentrism in 1921
George Foster Peabody |
Curtis wrote
several times from Paris to Foster Peabody and his wife Katrina
Trask, a writer and peace activist. Probably the last letter
was the one of October 16, 1921, where Curtis described her
speech to the art history congress. |
This letter and the speech it describes
show the mature Natalie Curtis, with a well-grounded air of authority,
a definite and well-articulated point of view. Someone -- probably
Peabody himself -- recognized the letter's value sometime in the
20th century, for the copy I have is a carbon typescript of Natalie's
letter, originally scrawled in pencil.
In the letter, Natalie tells her friends
how she came to speak at the International Congress of Art History
at the Sorbonne in Paris. She recounts a striking conflict that
arose between her and another speaker at the conference, Professor
Edward Burlingame Hill of Harvard:
Professor Hill said to me 'I intend to
say that the reason we haven't any great music in America is because
we have no folk music -- I intend to say we haven't any, and I suppose
you'll say we have?' 'I most certainly will' -- said I. Thereupon
ensued an argument.
In their presentations, Hill and Curtis
locked horns publicly. She writes:
he came first on the program, and with
true dogmatic Professionism he stated that while it was true that
there was folk-music in America (a modification of his first statement)
it was mostly Negro and Indian and thus wasn't American! So you
see he knocked my subject on the head first. I didn't mean to get
into any kind of controversy, but when I sang those songs about
the American maize, about the big, hot American sun that rides his
turquoise horse across our Rocky mountains; those chants that have
come out of America itself -- the audience was literally electrified!
I spoke of our 12 million Negroes who are good enough 'Americans'
to die for American ideals in our wars.... If [their] songs that
are the very voice of our South are not American, what is! ... I
resented Mr. Hill's everlasting monopoly of the white race, and
I resented the notion that only New England with Harvard College
as its 'hub' can be 'American'!
To poor Professor Hill, Mrs. Burlin must
have seemed an intolerable upstart. "All America is not New
England," she said in her speech, but an agglomeration of races
with a rich and diverse folklore. "And all the music of America
is not found in universities and schools but out in the great expanse
of territory that stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans,
and from Canada to Mexico."17
This certainty of viewpoint also comes
across in her article for Musical America, published posthumously
in March 1922. In "The Difficulties of a Folk-Lorist"
(a.k.a. "Recording for Posterity the Music of Primitive Humanity"),
probably her last written work, Curtis stressed the need for a student
of cultures to be broad-minded, to show respect for the people he's
studying, and to understand their point of view. The folklorist's
work, she said, "... brings him into direct contact with the
people. He has to do with live human beings, not dead data."
Curtis herself never tried to achieve
a supposedly scientific, detached approach to people. Rather, her
method was "... to study directly from the singers and wherever
possible to live the life of the people whom I am investigating
so that their song, heard all about me, is subconsciously absorbed
as well as consciously studied."18
Kurt Schindler, a folk music collector
and the conductor of the Schola Cantorum, a New York City choral
group, had assisted Natalie Curtis with The Indians' Book and accompanied
her on the 1913 trip to Hopi. He commented on her ability to relate
to people: "To observe her among her beloved Indians was to
witness a miracle, for with her utter frankness and her beaming
simplicity of approach she could make even the most reticent ones
among them talk and sing to her, and explain the mysteries of their
legends."19
A week after writing to Peabody, on October
23, 1921, Natalie stepped off a streetcar in Paris and, according
to her brother George, was hit by the car of a doctor who was hurrying
to see a patient. She died soon after, without regaining consciousness.20
|