I grew up with a Dad who liked the Native American without actually meeting one. He loved the West, and so did I, for different reasons: I was a scientist and he was a romantic. He often accused me of being romantic about the (obviously lesser) people who lived here first. Maybe I was. I read, and I talked, and learned from a few men and women who are natives.
This is a popular picture with Indian fanatics (I have yet to meet a Native American who shuns the Indian name.)
It is lovely, I think – a man tired of fighting perhaps, his horse looks tired as well. Like Kokopelli (we’ll go there, trust) an image that Whitey has hung on their walls and made their own. So we look Indian friendly:
All of a sudden this horse looks like a draft horse and the Indian (blank faced) is blankified so white people can buy this print and feel like they are good. It looks like a cartoon, and there are models to match:
We don’t like to think of a decent civilization losing everything, and then remaking it up as something we repackage as “We’re doing so much better for them”.
You can buy this.
You can buy everything I have shown you, and you can buy this.