For Duane Linklater, It’s a Buffalo’s World

In a dialogue with Duane Linklater featured in the brochure for his ongoing exhibition, 12 + 2, at Dia Chelsea, filmmaker and academic Tasha Hubbard (Peepeekisis First Nation) highlights the intertwined erasures perpetuated by colonialism in North America. Throughout the 19th century, in conjunction with the systematic destruction of Native nations, millions of buffalo were exterminated, leaving merely a few hundred behind. Presently, while other large game populations recover in free-ranging herds, buffalo remain primarily confined to private lands, national parks, or reservations. “Indigenous people and buffalo have been conflated in the minds of settlers from the outset; we are buffalo, and they are us,” she remarked. “Thus, just as settler colonialism necessitates the confinement of Indigenous peoples, so too does it apply to buffalo.”

In his exhibition 12 + 2, Linklater imaginatively allows buffalo to roam freely—at least conceptually. His installation, performance, and paintings reframe the world from their perspective. The work symbolizes a hopeful reimagination of the Earth through Indigenous lenses, showcasing seven buffalo—crafted from wire and papier-mâché and enlarged to two or three times their natural size—in two expansive galleries collectively named “wallowposition.” Their geometrically shaped forms, coupled with visible seams that give them a mechanical semblance, lack eyes or distinct features, as they are coated in plaster, echoing mud. Yet they exude a sense of liveliness and charm: one kneels on its front legs, as if drinking; another lies on its side, legs kicking in the air; an adolescent appears caught mid-trot, with a smaller head, and a baby sprawls on the floor.

They are indulging in wallowing—rolling in dirt to rid themselves of parasites, cool off, savor scents, and gather grass seeds, ultimately fostering the spread of prairie flora. This instinctual and gratifying behavior, curator Matilde Guidelli-Guidi notes, does not occur under captivity or stress.

What conditions are necessary for buffalo to thrive in their natural habitat? And by extension, what must be true for these artistically rendered buffalo, created by Omasekêko Ininiwak from the Moose Cree First Nation, to exist comfortably within this art institution?

At Dia, Linklater engages in a worldbuilding process, in a space historically supporting artists (such as Smithson, Holt, De Maria, and Heizer) who often overlooked the native lands they appropriated as their canvas and material. This foundation is situated on historically rich ground, including former Lenape tobacco fields. Linklater transforms the Chelsea venue not only into a conceptual prairie defined by buffalo representations but also by removing twelve cylindrical sections from the floor and substrate, replacing them with soil and granite pieces sourced from his Northern Ontario home. Two additional boreholes remain empty, encased in glass for visitors to observe the layers beneath. These twelve granite segments, arranged in a circle crossing both rooms, along with the two boreholes (the “12 + 2” referenced in the piece’s and exhibition’s titles), symbolize the positioning of a teepee—bearing cosmological significance and yet another mapping method; one of Linklater’s cochineal-stained, charcoal-drawn teepee covers, titled “parliament,” is suspended from the rafters in the second gallery. The excavated debris is displayed in a nearby steel trough. This intervention recalls Robert Smithson’s concept of “non-sites,” in which he integrated materials like coal and rocks from industrial wastelands into gallery spaces, connecting the white cube to both contemporary realities and deep historical layers. However, rather than merely bringing the outside in, Linklater also delves beneath the surface, forcing a confrontation with a distinctly human narrative of displacement.

Despite the considerable presence of his buffalo sculptures, Linklater maintains the galleries’ spaciousness to facilitate a vital performance aspect. On Saturday afternoons, a performance titled “bison bison (dance_hum for dirtbath)” unfolds, choreographed by Tanya Lukin Linklater, Duane’s spouse and frequent collaborator. During this 44-minute presentation, dancers navigate the space, embodying the virtual landscape akin to buffalo behavior. They engage in acts of homage and mapping, such as creating charcoal rubbings of the granite plugs in the floor. Their movements orchestrate the accompanying score, “buffalounit,” composed by eagleswitheyesclosed (a collaboration between Linklater and his son, Tobias) and performed by a drummer, cellist, and bassist. Over seven weeks, the troupe of dancers and musicians dwindles, culminating in one percussionist and a lone dancer.

Crafted in oil stick, paint, and graphite across three panels, “kitaskêkinaw_kitaskêkinawâw (every indian I know hates that song)”—the song referenced is likely the iconic pioneer anthem “Home on the Range”—retraces the narrative of abstract painting through its vibrant strokes in red, white, and blue, alongside touches of brown and beige (measuring approximately 11 by 6.5 feet). Yet, these forms coalesce into a dual image of a buffalo reclining and a rough representation of the North American continent. In the second gallery, “wallowwallow,” a circular composition made of soil, hay, clay, and pigments on steel hovers with a direct halo on the brick wall. It aims to evoke the depressions created by buffalo rolling in the earth, reshaping the environment, yet it also resembles a planetary view of Earth. Linklater connects the vitality of his buffalo to that of Indigenous peoples with whom they have coexisted symbiotically for eons—not in a nostalgic perspective but couched within futurist notions as represented through robotic buffalo forms and titles resembling digital file names. Collectively, 12 + 2 underscores an essential truth: we inhabit a world crafted by buffalo.

Duane Linklater: 12 + 2 is on display at Dia Chelsea (537 West 22nd Street, Chelsea, Manhattan) until January 24, 2026. The exhibition has been curated by Matilde Guidelli-Guidi.