Say Uncle

A meditation on the disparities of perception between Native and settler people through photographs of my uncle in the Indian Canyons on the Agua Caliente Indian Reservation, our ancestral homelands.

Say Uncle is an ongoing photo project that explores the tension between being seen and seeing. For this work I photographed my uncle in different canyons on the Agua Caliente Indian Reservation in Séc-He ("palm springs, ca"), our ancestral homeland. Together we travel across the land, following the same paths that our family has walked for countless generations. Traditional migration routes open up into portals across the land, making way for reinterpretation of some of the same scenes that our family has always seen, and some new. The desire to make work here came from wanting to respond to the pressure I felt to perform identity for the white eyes of the art world and evolved to speak more directly to photography's relationship to viewing and being viewed by Indigenous people. 

I follow my uncle's footsteps in the same place that our ancestors have stepped for time immemorial, and make images of them as the modern people they are. By photographing my own family, on our own ancestral land in contrast with the colonial markings of settler society on the place, I call into question equity of the photographic image, and highlight our general unwillingness to view photographs from the same perspective as a larger settler society. I render images in both black & white and color to jolt the viewer out of a nostalgic view of Indian Land. As we follow the trails laid by Agua Caliente Cahuilla for thousands of years, the colonial world creeps in. Séc-He, a famous vacation spot for wealthy Americans, was one of Edward Curtis' sites for his infamous project "The North American Indian". As Curtis' photographs cemented the myth of the "noble savage" in the settler psyche, I aim to draw a contemporary thread across the work. My uncle wears nikes, ray bans and use his iPhone to make his own photos, he carries all the trappings of those forcefully assimilated into American life and yet through his Indigeneity he still exists as part of the land. Commercial flights, and military jets carry settlers above them. They look down surveying the Land, and we look upon them. The imagery seeks to acknowledge the act of observing and acknowledging the dual lineages of understanding the Land, people and other life in the canyons; one of Indigenous symbiotic relations, and another of colonial ownership. 

The photographs serve as portals into my and my family's own cultural understanding of our origin point. Moments of colonial creep unsettle the space shared by the same people, my ancestors, for time immemorial. In March 2025, I will be showing this work publicly for the first time, in Séc-He on my uncle and grandfather's allotment near downtown “palm springs”. The allotment is a small piece of undeveloped desert in a residential neighborhood, walking distance from the main drag of the city. The public show would come in response to the Desert X art festival that happens every two years in the Coachella Valley. The festival brings international artists to make public installations in the desert. They have supported and included Indigenous artists, including Cahuilla artist Gerald Clarke, so the response is not a harsh critique but rather a logical conclusion, a self invitation to show the people an artist belongs to on the land that the artist comes from, where the first name to ever be placed on the land was the artist's own name - Chormicle. Then to show the work publicly, and assert my family and our way of seeing the community into the discourse of the place and art culture of the community.


© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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The Moul ("washingtonia fan palms"), an Indigenous species of palm tree, that are understood to be our ancestors, look down on my family as we walk up the canyons.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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My uncle stands in the shadow of the Moul on floor of Palm Canyon. The detail of his figure protected by the palm. He remains somewhat illegible to the viewer.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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a pa' peveyva'al, or mortar stone, alongside the canyon trail. The land is sprinkled with memories of our ancestor's interventions in the Land.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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A view of the palm oasis in the canyon with Palm Springs behind it. The canyons were the abundant home for our family from time in immemorial, the valley floor has become the oasis for wealthy Americans since the 50s.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - A subtle ripple unsettles the still water in a pond formed by snow melt.
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A subtle ripple unsettles the still water in a pond formed by snow melt.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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My uncle dips his had into the hot springs, guarded by thicket of Moul. When my uncle was a young child his mother worked at the Séc-he, the spa ran by the tribe, and the first tribal business on the reservation.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - The Land looks back at the people who travel across it.
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The Land looks back at the people who travel across it.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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A stream of mineral rich hot water, that has emerged from with the Land's natural hot springs, trickles down to meet the cold water that's traveled 10,000 feet down the mountain.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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The sky above Séc-he is always full of contrails, fleeting marks by settler planes carrying folks to and from Los Angeles, San Diego, Ontario and many nearby military airports. The creation story tells of two twin brothers, Mukat and Temayawet, from white and black tobacco smoke, the settlers create form their creation with something similar, but their smoke always dissipates.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - My uncle looks up at the sky while my shadow falls on the rock next to him.
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My uncle looks up at the sky while my shadow falls on the rock next to him.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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The Cahuilla people came to the Coachella Valley thousands of years ago. The migration story speaks of us flying over the mountains. Ravens are always flying over head in the canyons. During my grandfather's generation, the Bird Songs were not taught to children, so that they would be safe as they assimilated into to settler culture.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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My uncle points to the tracks of a bobcat who had walked up the canyon trail earlier that morning. Our family is of the Wanakik Clan, represented by the bobcat.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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A parking lot carved out of the hillside by the tribe to make space for visitors on the reservation. The square break in the natural landscape mirrors the shape of the reservation itself, cut up into a checkerboard so that the federal government and railroad company could maintain power in the valley and prevent the Agua Caliente people from consolidating power through the Land.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - My uncle emerges from a maze of palm trees into the morning sun.
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My uncle emerges from a maze of palm trees into the morning sun.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - My shadow cast on the land. The earth, sky, barrel cactus, all the shrubbery, and myself, all belong to the same ecology.
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My shadow cast on the land. The earth, sky, barrel cactus, all the shrubbery, and myself, all belong to the same ecology.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - A portal made my the collection of rain water on a fallen frond.
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A portal made my the collection of rain water on a fallen frond.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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A view of the iconic wind farm that stretches across the West end of the Valley. The corridor between our family's clan's home in Snow Canyon, and our relatives in Morango and the rest of Séc-he, is covered my metal goliaths promising a perspective future of symbiosis between the settlers and the Land.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - My uncle entering the cold water at Tahquitz.
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My uncle entering the cold water at Tahquitz.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - The typical view through the palms.
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The typical view through the palms.

© Marcus Xavier Chormicle - Image from the Say Uncle photography project
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My uncle looks up from the creek, through the trees towards all the birds of the sky, as well as the settlers planes, traveling over us.