Overcoming numerous obstacles, the Ad Astra statue became a reality. What we should not forget, however, is that an important part of Bergen’s projects still awaits completion. Bergen envisioned an Ad Astra information plaza on the grounds of the capitol with a life-sized, eight-foot replica of the statue and, most importantly, rich background on the Kansa people’s cultural relevance and history. Due to funding issues, the educational project never saw the light of day. Kansans, thus, are left with an indigenous figure atop their dome, a figure marked and marred by an insidious absence of information about local Kansa nations. In one instance, after a presentation of my research project, an older gentleman approached me and said he particularly appreciated that I talked about the plaza aspect of the project. He said, in a manner as though he had just been reminded of it, that he and his wife had donated money for a brick in the plaza’s dedication area, but it was frustrating to want to go see it and for the plaza to not exist. However, this was all said in the manner that seems inherent in most Midwesterners: frustrated but already moving halfway beyond it in order to maintain politeness.
Likewise, in McPherson, Kansas, where an eight-foot Ad Astra replica rules over the plaza in front of the city hall, no indigenous cultural background or information allows visitors to learn more about indigenous Kansas. Instead a plaque informs visitors that Ad Astra was created by Richard Bergen We also learn that “The Kansa Indian represents the qualities that characterize the citizens of Kansas.” This comparison feels odd in a state that forcefully removed the Kansa in 1873. “The Indians aim is to the North Star, a position that remains constant and steady,” the plaque continues. You will find no acknowledgement specific to the Kansa, beyond “the citizens of Kansas”. What does this absence say about us? About our historic awareness and responsibilities? Leaving out the indigenous background is a missed chance to remember the people on whose ground we live but also a missed chance to recognize the history we are ignoring in our representations.
Native Americans were not granted citizenship until 1924, a full 63 years after Kansas became a state. Additionally, 11 years after Kansas became a state, a federal act passed that called for the removal of the Kansa to Kay County, Oklahoma. What do we owe to the people who gave their name to our state? What can we give in return for the displacement and erasing of a local cultural history? Bergen noted that the sculpture for this plaza was complete and awaiting its installation day, but fundraising wouldn’t recommence until non-profit status was regained. For now, it sits in Bergen’s art studio in Salina, Kansas where, to Bergen’s frustration, it can’t do what it was intended to: show the public up-close and personal what Ad Astra is meant to be. Bergen notes the absence as a missed opportunity for people to engage with this figure in a personal and everyday manner, but the loss of a chance at educating the public about Kansa culture due to financial issues seems to be the real tragedy. Public access to cultural education and information should never be roadblocked by red-tape and a government that can’t fund its own projects. It seems that, at the very least, we could put up plaques that acknowledge the history of the “people of the south wind”, especially if we are so bold as to place a Kansa figure atop the house of government that took the land out from under the people that gave it its name.
Likewise, in McPherson, Kansas, where an eight-foot Ad Astra replica rules over the plaza in front of the city hall, no indigenous cultural background or information allows visitors to learn more about indigenous Kansas. Instead a plaque informs visitors that Ad Astra was created by Richard Bergen We also learn that “The Kansa Indian represents the qualities that characterize the citizens of Kansas.” This comparison feels odd in a state that forcefully removed the Kansa in 1873. “The Indians aim is to the North Star, a position that remains constant and steady,” the plaque continues. You will find no acknowledgement specific to the Kansa, beyond “the citizens of Kansas”. What does this absence say about us? About our historic awareness and responsibilities? Leaving out the indigenous background is a missed chance to remember the people on whose ground we live but also a missed chance to recognize the history we are ignoring in our representations.
Native Americans were not granted citizenship until 1924, a full 63 years after Kansas became a state. Additionally, 11 years after Kansas became a state, a federal act passed that called for the removal of the Kansa to Kay County, Oklahoma. What do we owe to the people who gave their name to our state? What can we give in return for the displacement and erasing of a local cultural history? Bergen noted that the sculpture for this plaza was complete and awaiting its installation day, but fundraising wouldn’t recommence until non-profit status was regained. For now, it sits in Bergen’s art studio in Salina, Kansas where, to Bergen’s frustration, it can’t do what it was intended to: show the public up-close and personal what Ad Astra is meant to be. Bergen notes the absence as a missed opportunity for people to engage with this figure in a personal and everyday manner, but the loss of a chance at educating the public about Kansa culture due to financial issues seems to be the real tragedy. Public access to cultural education and information should never be roadblocked by red-tape and a government that can’t fund its own projects. It seems that, at the very least, we could put up plaques that acknowledge the history of the “people of the south wind”, especially if we are so bold as to place a Kansa figure atop the house of government that took the land out from under the people that gave it its name.