“The Genízaro Pueblo of Abiquiú” photo-essay was made in collaboration with the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian, the photographs in this essay delve into the deep sense of community shared by the long-marginalized Genízaro people of Abiquiú, New Mexico, and their Native American/Hispanic identity. Largely forgotten to history, the Genízaro people have lived on the same land in New Mexico for nearly 300 years.
By the 1700s, northern New Mexico had become a violent imperial frontier marked by deadly clashes, retaliatory raids, and a brutal trade in Native slaves. The creation of New Spain, in 1535, and then the extension of the Spanish Empire into what is now the American Southwest, in the 1600s, had transformed the region. The conflicts forever altered the lives of Native peoples, including those who would become known as the Genízaro of Abiquiú. See the full exhibition and story here.
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Introduce yourself: tell us who you are in a few sentences and give us a little background on your career path thus far.
I am Russel Albert Daniels, a photographer based out of Salt Lake City, Utah. I am Ho Chunk and Diné and I am a 6th generation Mormon (former) settler of mixed European backgrounds. My projects bring visibility and nuance to narratives from Indian Country and as well as others’ attempts to erase their cultures. My projects about Two Spirit, Bears Ears, Standing Rock, and colonial era Indigenous slave trafficking have helped to inform, educate and prompt conversations from Indian Country.
What is your earliest memory with photography?
My earliest memories with photography are when my parents let me take a point-and-shoot camera to a week long Boy Scout camp where I photographed my friends hiking and building a large timber tower, I was 12 years old. But it was my high school darkroom where I began to discover the emotional impact of an image.
Describe your approach to visual storytelling?
I have always been drawn to a straightforward and vernacular approach to visual storytelling. For most of my projects I want to make it easy for viewers to understand what is happening in my stories. Though, I have a deep appreciation for magical realism which sometimes slips into my projects, depending on the subject. I also believe a portrait is a collaboration with the photographer and subject.
What is one piece of advice you would give to those just starting out or looking to improve their visual storytelling skills?
If you want to find funds for your projects it is imperative to have solid writing skills, not to only add another level of nuance to your stories but to also pitch your ideas or write a proposal to the organizations with funding and/or that can publish your story.
How did this particular project/body of work come about?
This project came to be through an act of self-discovery of my Diné, Ho-Chunk, Mormon settler, and European heritage. In the mid-1840s, White River Ute people abducted my great great Diné (Navajo) grandma Rose when she was five years old. After years in bondage, the Ute traded her to Aaron Daniels, a polygamist Mormon settler in Utah. She became a domestic laborer within his different households. Decades later, Rose and Aaron married and had four children. The family enrolled in the Northern Ute tribe in northeastern Utah. Me and my siblings are the first generation born outside of the Ute reservation. My maternal side is Ho-Chunk from Nebraska.
Rose’s life story is well documented through memoirs, historical documents and fictionalized in the silent film “Squaw Man,” but none of this revealed the legacy of the Spanish colonial Native slave trade in the Southwest.
Reflecting back on this project — what were your main learnings? How did this work inform your practice as photographer and identity?
While working on this project I learned lessons of patience and intuition. I spent about three months living in northern New Mexico and working on this project in 2019. While organizing and making portraits I was often prompted to slow down – to match the slower pace of life in the Abiquiu pueblo – and have patience with my subjects and my workflow. For many months I didn’t quite know how this story was going to play out and I had to ground myself by trusting my intuition. Meditating on patience and fostering my intuition really paid off. Working on this project also reaffirmed that the colonial construct of blood quantum has nothing to do with Indigeneity or identity.
How does this current moment/year impact how you view both yourself as a visual storyteller and the work you’re creating?
Recent social unrest has pried open people’s ears and minds more now than anytime in my lifetime and this presents a crucial moment to bring visibility to the unheard narratives from Indian Country; and to develop new inspiring, creative, and collaborative ways to share these stories. If we want democracy to work for the greater good our country needs to come to terms with our past because the only way forward with democracy is with reconciliation, equality and equity for all.
What has been a specific surprise or challenge of working on these images?
The biggest ongoing challenge to this story is defining Genízaro identity. There have been over 400 years of history and three different imperial powers in the Southwest, all of which has led to creation and erasure of nuance and context of the Genízaro experience. The story of New Mexico’s Genízaro is rooted in violence and slavery that began when the Spanish permanently settled in Southwest in the late-16th century, leaving behind a legacy of human trafficking – still influential as we see with the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People epidemic ongoing today.
Pick 2-3 photos from your series to deconstruct: what was happening when you took the shot? Set the scene, what was going through your head?
Delvin Garcia stands in the remains of the 18th century Rosa de Lima church. Delvin’s shadow stretches long across the churches dirt floor and onto the adobe wall, light cast by the setting sun as it pierced in between the summer monsoon clouds and the Rio Chama landscape. The emotional impact of this scenario was powerful and both Delvin and myself knew that this moment was special; the church, landscape, clouds, and the dramatic low angle of the setting sun seem to emphasis centuries of history and shared heritage. This image carries a particular mood throughout the story, a mood of light and dark and the nuance of the grays in between, a mood reflected in the Genízaro genesis and identity.
This church was part of the first Spanish settlement in the Rio Chama Valley. The people who settled here repeatedly suffered from raids from the neighboring tribes which eventually led to the abandonment of the village.
El Cautivo Dance. This is the historical ceremonial dance that I had initial read about and was waiting months to witness and was honored to photograph. This project can be summarized into this one photo of the young Abiquiu dancers performing the El Cautivo Dance (captive dance). Abiquiu Genízaro’s have been performing this particular dance for over 150 years in this same space. These girls and young women dress as their ancestors and their performance represents Native captives being ransomed into Spanish settler homes. This was one of the most impactful moments to witness while working on this project because it represents how Genizaro consciousness continues to evolve as the community attempts to reassert its identity and culture. It was about minus 14 degrees on this December morning.
What motivates you to keep making pictures? In one sentence describe why visual storytelling matters to you.
Visual storytelling matters because it can be medicine, by bringing visibility and a voice to those living in the shadows of society.
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The Genízaro Pueblo of Abiquiù is the first chapter in Russel’s project – Who Is Genízaro? – this long-term, four-part photo essay will illuminate 500 years of the Spanish colonial Indigenous slave trade in the Southwest Borderlands.
CHECK OUT MORE OF RUSSEL’S WORK ON HIS INSTAGRAM AND WEBSITE.