Native Voices Challenge the Flag and Museum Walls

A bright orange neon sign outside SITE Santa Fe declares in all caps: “EVERY AMERICAN FLAG IS A WARNING SIGN. ” The message, taken from a poem by Diné artist Demian DinéYazhi’, greets visitors before they even step inside. The sign is part of an exhibition that traces how Native performance art has fought colonial narratives since 1969. The show argues that the American flag, once a symbol of invasion for Indigenous peoples, later became an unquestioned test of loyalty. The flag’s ubiquity has been used by far‑right groups and, more subtly, by ordinary citizens to validate the settler state. DinéYazhi’ turns this idea into political theatre, forcing museum guests to confront their own assumptions as they cross the threshold. Inside, the first gallery feels like a living room more than a museum space. Pink and red burlap wallpaper, designed by Hopi/Choctaw artist Linda Lomahaftewa in the 1960s, surrounds works by IAIA co‑founder Lloyd Kiva New. Visitors can view primary documents and videos that document the birth of Native theatre at IAIA in 1969, a movement linked to the Alcatraz occupation that same year. From there guests choose three paths. One leads to large fiber sculptures by Diné artist Eric‑Paul Riege, who turns them into “durational performances” that echo ceremonial rhythms. Another path opens onto a pop‑art installation by the collective New Red Order, which uses satire to critique how Indigenous culture is commercialised. The third path presents “White Carver, ” a performance by Tlingit/Unangax artist Nicholas Galanin that reverses the gaze of the museum, placing a white woodworker behind a velvet rope as he carves an Indigenous‑inspired object.

A recurring theme is the transformation of Indigenous bodies from objects into performers. James Luna’s “The Artifact Piece” places the artist inside a plexiglass case, turning the body into an exhibit. His student Erica Lord continues the work, leaving a sand‑filled case that keeps her memory alive while inviting viewers to question the ethics of displaying human beings. The performance turns museum visitors into actors, reflecting their own gaze back at them. Other works in the exhibition require imagination. Nico Williams’ “Detroit Danger” is a roll of hand‑beaded glass tape that suggests police exclusion; viewers must picture the artist marking space. The “Mirror Shield Project” by Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara, Lakota artist Cannupa Hanska Luger uses reflective shields to blur identity, making spectators aware of their own presence while hiding it in a hazy reflection. The exhibition’s title, “Indian Theatre, ” may seem misleading because most pieces are objects rather than live performances. Yet the silent presence of these works invites viewers to perform their own cultural critique, turning them into participants in a dialogue about self‑determination and visual sovereignty. The show opened at Bard College in 2023 and now resides in New Mexico, the birthplace of Native theatre. For those who leave with more questions than answers, a companion reader titled “Native Visual Sovereignty” offers an in‑depth look at the movement’s history and contemporary impact.

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