Between 1869 and the 1960s in the U.S., thousands of Indigenous children attended at least 523 boarding schools, supported by the government and church groups that were fueled by the grim motto, “Kill the Indian, Save the Man.”

Children were sent hundreds, if not thousands, of miles from their families and tribal communities, suffering horrific abuse, and in many cases, dying as a result. Federal agents often abducted minors, who were sent to school and punished severely if they spoke their Native languages. By 1926, nearly 83 percent of Indigenous school-age children were enrolled.

The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition explains that the purpose of the schools was “expressly intended to implement cultural genocide through the removal and reprogramming of American Indian and Alaska Native children to accomplish the systematic destruction of Native cultures and communities.”

In October, the U.S. government issued a formal apology for its role in the boarding schools, yet efforts will long continue to fully understand, process, and begin to heal the trauma.

For Tlingit-Unangax̂ artist Nicholas Galanin, looking to the past is fundamental to constructing a more nuanced perception of the present. His multidisciplinary practice “aims to redress the widespread misappropriation of Indigenous visual culture, the impact of colonialism, as well as collective amnesia,” says a statement from Peter Blum Gallery, which represents the artist and is currently showing Galanin’s solo exhibition, The persistence of Land claims in a climate of change.

“We can sharpen our vision of the present with cultural knowledge and memory,” Galanin says. “These works embody cultural memory and practice, reflecting persistence, sacrifice, violence, refusal, endurance, and resistance.”

Based in Sitka, Alaska, Galanin often incorporates traditional Tlingit and Unangax̂ art forms into contemporary sculptures and installations. “The Imaginary Indian (Garden),” for example, takes as its starting point a totem pole, a customarily towering representation of animals hewn from a single tree that is deeply imbued with spiritual and social significance.

In “3D Consumption Illustration,” Galanin comments on a lack of respect for the art form by cutting up a single totem figure like firewood, as if it’s disposable or merely decorative. In “Loom,” he stacks a series of ready-made children’s desks into a winged, totem pole-like tower to memorialize the children who suffered in residential schools.

Galanin’s often provocative work emphasizes the inherent power of symbols and associations. A polar bear pelt stands in for fabric in “White Flag,” a nod to a symbol for surrender, which draws attention to the increasingly stark effects of the climate crisis on the arctic and on Native peoples’ way of life.

In Miami earlier this month, masts and rigging emerged from the sand as if a Spanish galleon had been buried beneath the beach. The sails boldly asked in both English and Spanish: “What are we going to give up to burn the sails of empire?” and “What are we going to build for our collective liberation?”

The installation, titled “Seletega (run, see if people are coming/corre a ver si viene gente),” tapped into the European colonization of North America and its aim of extracting wealth, establishing cities and commerce, and expanding westward at the dire expense of Indigenous peoples.

In The persistence of Land claims in a climate of change, Galanin continues to highlight the “Indigenous cultural continuum,” says a gallery statement, defying cultural erasure and refusing the legitimacy of colonial occupation. “Galanin reflects on the distance between peace and justice by centering the enduring Indigenous protection of Land in the face of expansive extraction.”

Through photography, monotypes, and sculptural works in ceramic, bronze, and wood, the artist reflects on systems of racial oppression and disenfranchisement, Indigenous knowledge and responsibility, and the importance of collectivity and connection as we proceed into the future.

Galanin is the recipient of a slew of prestigious awards recently, including a Joan Mitchell Fellowship in 2023 and both the Guggenheim Fellowship and Don Tyson Prize this year. See more of his work on Instagram, and if you’re in New York, visit The persistence of Land claims in a climate of change until January 18.