The Sentinels, 315 feet, Yosemite 1870 - 1874

Editor: So here we have Carleton Watkins' gelatin-silver print, "The Sentinels, 315 feet, Yosemite," dating from around 1870 to 1874. These giant trees create such a powerful, almost overwhelming sense of scale. What strikes you most about this work? Curator: What resonates with me is how this image encapsulates the fraught history of landscape photography in the American West. On the one hand, it celebrates the sublime beauty of nature, these magnificent trees as symbols of untouched wilderness. Yet, this "untouched" narrative erases the history of Indigenous peoples who stewarded this land for centuries. Editor: That's a really interesting point I hadn't considered. How does Watkins’ image participate in that erasure? Curator: Well, think about the timing. This photograph was created in the wake of the Yosemite Grant of 1864, which ceded control of Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove to the state of California. Watkins' photographs, while aesthetically stunning, served to promote tourism and reinforce a sense of Manifest Destiny, further dispossessing Indigenous communities. Do you see any traces of human presence in the image? Editor: Yes, there is a small structure and a cut log that appear in the mid-ground of the image between the two large trees. Curator: Exactly. That small structure and felled log hint at the encroachment and disruption inherent in the romantic vision of the "West." Editor: I see what you mean. It’s not just a neutral depiction of nature. It is also charged with socio-political meaning of the American expansion. Curator: Precisely. By examining it through the lenses of settler colonialism and Indigenous dispossession, we gain a richer, more nuanced understanding. What do you take away from this consideration? Editor: I guess that I have a new perspective of Watkins’ photograph, "The Sentinels," knowing it is also evidence of displacement. Curator: Indeed. We both gain some understanding looking through these various lenses.