Durango, Colorado – 2023

“Other nations have tried to check the fulfillment of our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.

It was in 1845 that John Louis O’Sullivan, a popular columnist, articulated the long-standing American belief in the God-given mission of the United States to expand across North America all the way to the Pacific Ocean. In so doing he coined the term “Manifest Destiny”.

There was a sense of unbridled purpose. Nothing would get in their way: forests would be cut; mountains carved and railroads built. 60 million bison were culled and replaced by cattle. Native Americans faced an existential crisis.

Some tribes, of course, fought, whilst others negotiated. There was heavy loss of life on both sides and there is irony now that this period of nation building is deeply uncomfortable for many current day Americans. What created the wealthiest country in the world is not something to celebrate.

Railroads were an integral part of the Manifest Destiny and undermined the sovereignty of Native nations. Their construction threatened to destroy indigenous communities and their cultures as the railroad expanded into territories inhabited by Native Americans.

But for all that, encounters between steam trains and Native Americans were not necessarily as Hollywood has depicted. There was not much conflict and indigenous people mostly watched the railroad construction with a degree of fascination. Indeed, some found themselves drawn into a closer relationship with settlers because of the commercial opportunities that came with railroad construction. There was collaboration and often Native Americans offered protection from bandits.

19th century artists often depicted Native Americans as passive contextual narrative in railroad images; they are present but only to frame the story, not make the story. They simply establish the scene. This was my intent one cold February morning at Horseshoe Bend on the famous Durango & Silverton Railroad high in the San Jose Mountains. The Native American is not on the bend to attack, he is there simply to proudly show his presence. It is for the viewer to imagine how the next five minutes unfolded.

A great deal of logistical teamwork enabled this opportunity that cold sunny morning and the result is a strong photograph. As always it is a big team effort to create work like this.

Silverton, Colorado, USA – 2021

In post Civil War America, some saw the railroad as a symbol of modernity and national progress. For others, however, the Transcontinental Railroad undermined the sovereignty of Native nations and threatened to destroy Indigenous communities and their cultures as the railroad expanded into territories inhabited solely by Native Americans.
As part of my photographic anthology on the wild west, it was always my intent to bring native Indians and a railroad together into an image, but I had no wish to objectify either party. A photograph for instance of a hostile railroad attack by a party of Indians could be labelled as stereotyping or indeed being blind to the provocation of what was effectively an invasion by American settlers, prospectors and capitalists. We entered this project to tell stories, not make overtly political points.
After several scouting trips, I found an ideal location 10,000 feet above sea level on the track near Silverton, Colorado. The train owners told us that this section of the track had never been shot before and that sense of ground breaking always gives me a warm glow.
The high cliff face offered a sense of a vantage point and the opportunity for the camera to tell a more passive observation story (albeit with a little attitude).
The narrative seems entirely realistic as most of the time the natives would observe the Iron Horses from a safe distance with a mixture of fear; anger but also, I would imagine a hint of bewilderment. The driver of the steam train did a fabulous job with the flume – it was a magical sight to see.