In a recent installment of the Indigenous Voices series, artist Sarah Sense joined host Tara Kenjockety to discuss the intricate layers of history, identity, and futurity embedded in her artwork. The conversation centered on Hinushi 10, a powerful photo-weaving acquired for the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art’s permanent collection. The acquisition was the culmination of PhotoFutures, a student-led initiative at the University of Notre Dame, whose theme for fall 2024 was “Indigenizing Photography.” The dialogue illuminated Sense’s practice as a crucial bridge, weaving complex historical narratives of land and removal with profound declarations of cultural continuity.
At the heart of Hinushi 10 lies an act of artistic archaeology. The work’s journey began when the Choctaw Nation invited Sense to its archives, where she uncovered a collection of blue allotment maps from 1902. The maps, which detailed the lands in McCurtin County where her family was relocated after the Trail of Tears, “emotionally and mentally took a hold” of her. This deeply personal discovery became the work’s foundation. In a stunning act of synthesis, Sense layers these documents with other historical records to reveal a hidden story of escalating exploitation. She juxtaposes journals from the Lewis and Clark expedition—a tool of colonial exploration—with the allotment maps, an instrument of federal assimilation and land division. Over this, she weaves multi-lingual oil maps from 1915, which expose a new agenda of capitalist extraction on the very same lands. By interlacing these instruments of power with her own photographs of ancestral homelands, Sense excavates a complex and gripping narrative of land, displacement, and resilience.
When invited by Arizona State University to respond to the work of photographer Edward S. Curtis, Sense deliberately chose to create a powerful counter-narrative. Instead of engaging with Curtis’s infamous “dying Indian” trope, she turned the camera toward Indigenous futurity. She photographed her oldest son, Archie, on their family land in Broken Bow, Oklahoma, even including a selfie of them together. The act became a definitive reclamation of the photographic document, shifting the focus from a colonial gaze to a sovereign, maternal one. In a profound reversal of power, Sense revealed that Archie also took the camera and became an “active part of the photo process,” literally empowering the next generation to frame their own story. Where Curtis documented a culture he presumed was vanishing, Sense’s work documents the vibrant continuation of family, community, and connection to the land.
Sense revealed a poignant and personal connection that makes the artwork’s home at Notre Dame feel serendipitous. Her son, Archie—the subject of the photograph—was born in Ireland. During a visit to the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art, she was struck by the deep Irish identity of the university. To see the portrait of her son, a boy proud of his Irish, Chitimacha, and Choctaw heritage, hanging in the museum felt uniquely fitting. For Sense, the image of Archie, with the Choctaw sun and star pattern woven through his portrait, looking out over Broken Bow Lake while displayed in a space celebrating Irish pride, was a convergence she described as “meant to be.”
Concluding the dialogue, Sense reflected on a pivotal shift in the art world. She has witnessed a growing recognition of Native artists within mainstream contemporary art, particularly since the global lockdown. She celebrated seeing Indigenous work integrated into broader collections, arguing that this is how art history books “should be written.” Looking forward, Sense is committed to creating art that is both deeply political and aesthetically accessible. Her current work investigates the history of National Parks as a “land grab,” weaving historical photos, land deeds, and her own photography to question ownership and advocate for returning land to its original stewards. It is a practice of layering beauty with potent inquiry, designed to engage a wide audience in critical conversations.
