What Could Not Be Erased

Banner Image: Detail of Th3 dr3am3r, courtesy of Joe Pulliam.

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In Joe Pulliam’s “Th3 dr3am3r,” the Mississippi River becomes a body and streets become skin. Beneath a blue moon and a constellation of stars, a horned figure with an exposed heart stands without a face but not without identity. 

Before coming across Pulliam’s work, I had never heard of ledger art.

In elementary school, American history felt like a strange violent canon. A sequence of battles, betrayals, conquerors and survivors where the complexity of human life was flattened into statistics. I didn’t yet understand the power of preserving your story: leaving behind proof that you were here, that your life mattered, and that you deserved to be remembered. 

By the late 1800s, Indigenous nations had been forced onto reservations, and the buffalo hides traditionally used for painting had become increasingly scarce. Artists turned to discarded ledger books once used by white settlers and government officials to document debts, transactions and trade. 

Across those lined pages, Indigenous artists drew battle scenes, ceremonies, hunting expeditions, family histories and personal experiences that might have otherwise been lost. In doing so, they transformed a tool of colonial recordkeeping into a record of their own histories. 

 

Image: Shes got the whole world in her hands. STRONG MOTHER, courtesy of Joe Pulliam.

That tradition lives on in Pulliam’s solo exhibit, “What Could Not Be Erased,” currently showing at the Minneapolis American Indian Center’s Two Rivers Gallery. Horses gallop across faded land deeds, while Lakota men and women in traditional regalia emerge from yellowed ledger papers and antique maps. Official stamps, handwritten entries and land titles are transformed into stories of Indigenous resilience. 

Pulliam’s paintings ask viewers to look beyond the historical documents and toward the lives they’ve carried. I spoke with Pulliam, an Oglala Lakota artist and U.S. veteran, about growing up between St. Paul and Pine Ridge, discovering ledger art and why preserving Indigenous stories remains central to his practice. 

The interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

You grew up between the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota and St. Paul, Minnesota. What was your upbringing like? 

I was born in Pine Ridge in 1970. My mother and father relocated to St. Paul, Minnesota when I was a year old. We moved back to the reservation when I was 10 and there was a big culture shock. Growing up in the city for the first 10 years of my life, I wasn’t really in tune with my Lakota culture. I was more of an American kid. Back on the reservation, there weren’t any libraries or parks and my parents, although they worked, were alcoholics. With that lifestyle, we were not encouraged to take part in our cultural ceremonies. 

I had no plans on being a Native artist. I went to graphic design school at Salt Lake Community College. I wanted to be a mainstream American artist and I wanted to work for advertisement agencies. My life was shaped by alcoholism and poverty. I freelanced as a graphic designer on the reservation, designing logos, T-shirts and posters for the tribe while trying to keep my head above water. 

You said you originally wanted to be a “mainstream American artist.” What interested you in ledger art?

When I was freelancing on the reservation, I had to really embrace my culture, our designs and our colors. All of this training I received in an American graphic design school didn’t even matter when I got back to the rez. My great-great-grandfather, Oliver Red Cloud, looked at my art one day and said, ‘What does this lightning on the horses mean?’ and I was like, ‘So that they can go fast.’ And he’s looking at me, shaking his head. He’s like, ‘You better start understanding these designs that you’re doing if you’re going to represent our people.’ So, I did. I started to take it more seriously.

In 2009, I discovered ledger art by a man named Daniel Long Soldier. He was like the guru of ledger artists to me. He said, ‘if you study the bible with me for one hour, I will study art with you for one hour.’ Although I didn’t have any interest in being a Jehovah’s Witness, I definitely wanted to learn about the art form. 

 

Image: Insurrection Erection. Watercolor, antique ledger paper, courtesy of Joe Pulliam.

How do you decide what belongs on the page?

During the early reservation period, there was no access to our traditional art materials but there were plenty of ledger books. People repurposed them and they would draw and write their personal war exploits, hunts and different aspects of our society. 

When I realized how art was responsible for the preservation of our history and culture, I pretty much became a full-time ledger artist. Recently, in the past seven years, I started to work on other repurposed materials such as antique maps, certificates, old checks, sheet music, and even receipts. All of these things represent the colonization of the Native and how we were put underneath this capitalist system. With maps, it’s like reclaiming the land through art in a way. 

‘What Could Not Be Erased’ is your first ever exhibit. What does that mean to you?

The Minneapolis American Indian Center is very historic. I remember going to powwows as a kid there, the smell of fry bread and the sound of bells from the dancers. So, coming back to the Twin Cities to have my first major exhibit at this gallery feels very full circle. My art has just opened up so many doors of opportunity. It’s been the basis of my sobriety too. 

Everything I do now is bringing awareness to the injustices of my people and to address some of the social problems on the reservation. There’s an effort to improve our lives on the reservation by sober people and I think especially with Trump, being so oppressive and heartless, it’s really waking up a lot of Americans to the injustices in our communities.

What do you hope Twin Cities audiences take away from seeing ‘What Could Not Be Erased’?

The one thing I always say is, we are still here. Through all the efforts of forced assimilation and genocidal tactics, we are still here and our culture is strong. We’re resilient and we’re hopeful. And yes, we have our problems just like everyone else but we still deserve our slice of the American pie because this land belongs to all of us.◼︎ 

“What Could Not Be Erased” is on view at Two Rivers Gallery, 1530 E Franklin Ave, Minneapolis, MN 55404, through Oct. 9.