Fighting Fraud: In a Vast World Market, Protecting Indigenous Art and Artists is Ever More Challenging

Morrisseau (who signed his painting with his Indigenous name of Copper Thunderbird) was a self-taught artist who painted an immense number of paintings. He created a new approach to art, termed the Woodland Style, mixing aspects of modern European painting with imagery from his Anishinaabe culture. The human or animal figures in his works are painted with intense colors and heavily outlined in black.

However, the same qualities that made his bold paintings so visually and emotionally powerful also made them somewhat easier to replicate illicitly. Morrisseau generally applied colors flatly, and his trademark black outlines were easy to copy. “Because so many unsecure works flooded the market, many buyers began to recognize a visual aesthetic that did not align with art by Morrisseau,” said art historian Carmen Robertson of Carleton University in Ottawa. 

Determining which paintings Morrisseau created was challenging. His artistic career began as a young artist struggling in Thunder Bay, Ontario. When times were tough, he might sell one to get grocery money. He also often gave paintings to people who had helped him out in some way, so many of his paintings are in unknown and undocumented locations. 

“We thought if we followed the art fraud case maybe we’d solve the murder,” said Rybak as they both appeared to be pointing toward the same suspects. The investigation expanded rapidly, soon involving both provincial and national law enforcement personnel. The task force was so unused to art fraud cases that they asked Ronny Walker, an FBI agent from Los Angeles specializing in art crime, to assist. While the murder was not solved, eventually three separate rings of counterfeiters were convicted or pled guilty to charges of forgery, using forged documents and defrauding the public. The leaders of the three groups were sentenced to up to five years in prison for their crimes, the last in 2025.

Indigenous Artists and Cultures at Risk

Art fraud is not merely a financial crime. Counterfeiting and other forms of fraudulent Native art cannot replicate the relationship between artist and community history and culture. For Indigenous artists, fraud undercuts their traditions and community cohesion. For some Indigenous artists, the creation of an object breathes life into that object and may carry that of its creator within it. Also, Indigenous objects often hold religious or cultural significance that should not be replicated or used by non-Native peoples without permission or out of context.

Massive as the Morrisseau case is, this is just one example of fraud that is prevalent in the Indigenous art world. Janet Berlo, professor emerita of art history at the University of Rochester, wrote in her book “Not Native Art,” that fraud is driven by “the limitless hunger that . . .  Euro-Americans have for romantic and noble narratives about Indigenous peoples.”

That hunger coupled with a demand for lower-priced collectible items has tempted some unscrupulous people to copy or misrepresent Native art and crafts for centuries. Even George Catlin, the 19th-century American artist who travelled the Plains, was not above embellishing some of his drawings or putting together Native artifacts drawn from disparate sources, wrote Berlo.

All kinds of ancient and contemporary crafts have been copied to sell to tourists and collectors—Mimbres pots, 19th-century ledger drawings, Navajo rugs, Eskimo ivory carvings, and pottery like imitation Zuni ceremonial vessels. People who misidentify themselves as members of an Indigenous tribe or First Nation are also committing fraud. Some products labeled “Native-inspired” are not Native made and can be misleading to customers.

The cases are numerous. In 2021, a non-Native Alaska gallery owner in Juneau pleaded guilty to misrepresenting himself as a Tlingit stone carver and selling fraudulent stone carvings made in the Philippines. The defendant’s remaining stock of 1,296 stone carvings could have netted more than $1.5 million had they been sold, reported the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in a press release. In March 2023, Jerry Chris Van Dyke of Seattle  pleaded guilty in U.S. District Court to violating the Indian Arts and Crafts Act by falsely claiming Native Nez Perce heritage and selling pendants based on Aleut imagery. The presiding judge pointed out that Van Dyke spent 10 years “undermining a community and [an] identity.”  In April 2025, the last of seven co-conspirators was sentenced in another Alaska case for importing items from the Philippines to be sold as authentic Alaska Native stone carvings or wooden totem poles.

The late Hopi artist Charles Loloma, whose jewelry was duplicated and sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars, was also a victim.“His technique was appropriated and [this] denigrated the value of his real works,” said Jamie Schulze (Northern Cheyenne), the executive director of the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts (SWAIA). The counterfeiter was caught and convicted in January 2025 under the Indian Arts and Crafts Act. 

Exploitation of Indigenous arts is happening around the world. A couple in Melbourne, Australia, were jailed after they passed off their own work as paintings by renowned Aboriginal artist Rover Thomas. Collectors around the world have sought his work, and his pieces hang in the National Museum of Australia. A gallery owner modified paintings by another Aboriginal artist, Clifford Possum Tjapaltjarri, and sold them as his own. Both Thomas and Tjapaltjarri both drew on their own spiritual dreaming traditions and landscapes in remote parts of Australia and their styles were distinct.

Yet another way to fool buyers is to use authentic pieces that are then refashioned to make a piece appear older than it is, such as pots reassembled from fragments then repainted or restored. “Some jewelry may appear at first like the work of Native Americans but a closer look at materials and workmanship reveals differences,” said Doreen Red Cloud (Oglala Lakota), curator of Native American Art at the Eiteljorg Museum in Indianapolis. “Beads may appear a little off because they’re made of plastic or plated metal or aren’t in any true tribal colors or patterns. Totem poles and Inuit carvings have also been made in southeast Asian sweatshops.”

Additionally, the uninformed buyer may not know that Indigenous-made pieces are often created by more than one individual. Technique, materials, design and imagery are deeply influenced by Native history and culture. In that sense, the artists never work alone. Someone without that cultural immersion, who sees art as a mere commodity, would lack the nuance to create such an authentic piece. A well-known artist may also have apprentices who helps him or her create portions of a piece while the master finishes the details, a practice adapted from European artists.

The scale of the problem has been hard to quantify. A 2011 report from the U.S. Government Accountability Office said, “The actual size of the Indian arts and crafts market, and extent of misrepresentation that is occurring, are unknown, because existing estimates are outdated, limited in scope or anecdotal and no national sources contain the data necessary to make reliable estimates.”

Organized criminal groups based in China, India, Pakistan, Indonesia and the Philippines among others can produce and sell near look-alike jewelry, sculpture or beadwork far more cheaply than authentic Indigenous artists, said Walter Lamar (Blackfeet Nation of Montana), a former FBI agent and now chairman of the Indian Arts and Crafts Board. 

 “When Congress first passed the Indian Arts and Crafts Act in 1935, its intent was clear: to protect the integrity and authenticity of American Indian
-made arts and crafts,” Lamar said. “At its heart, the Act was and still is about truth in advertising. It makes it illegal to market something as American Indian-made when it is not.” 

The Act was significantly updated in 1990 with more stringent penalties added again in 2010 to allow any federal agency to initiate an investigation. Suspected violations can be reported to the board, with follow-up investigation by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. With sufficient evidence, the service can refer a case to the U.S. attorney’s office for prosecution. 

Blurred Lines

Today, protecting artists from fraud is further complicated by the fact that anything can be viewed and is vulnerable to being copied once online.  “There’s a line between inspiration and forgery,” said painter Brent Learned (Cheyenne/Arapaho). “Art is to inspire people, and every artist gets inspiration from somebody else when they’re starting. The only new thing is how you tell the story.”

“The big problem now is social media,” added Canadian beadworker Naomi Smith (Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation). “Young artists may post their latest work on Instagram or TikTok to showcase their work. That may lead to future sales, but it also allows others to copy and undercut the price of the original works,” she said.

Members of Indigenous art communities are tackling the problem in different ways, said artist and former Director of SWAIA Dallin Maybee (Northern Arapaho/Seneca). “We have the Indian Arts and Crafts Act in the United States, but there has been a lack of funds for investigation and enforcement,” he said. “To a savvy fraudster, any fine they pay would just be considered another cost of doing business.”

Organizations like the SWAIA also play a role in keeping the market as honest as possible. “The role of SWAIA is to bring Native art to the world by helping Native artists make a living off their own work,” said Schulze. “Making art keeps their stories alive and continues their culture.”

The application process for the SWAIA show in Santa Fe each summer calls for evidence of federal or state tribal recognition for each artist’s Native status to reduce the chances of personal misrepresentation and to reassure purchasers. “Meeting artists in person also allows them to tell the stories behind their works,” Schulze said.

Every December, the National Museum of the American Indian also hosts a Native Art Market that features the works of Indigenous artists from across the Western Hemisphere. In 2025, thousands of buyers attended the market held in the museum’s rotunda in Washington, D.C. Visitors not only saw the original artworks for sale but had the opportunity to talk with their creators about their techniques and their peoples’ stories, which are often woven into their works whether jewelry, pottery, leather work, basketry, beadwork, sculpture, paintings or hand-woven textiles. Such markets offer buyers interactions with authentic Indigenous artists that add immeasurable value to the work that cannot be replicated through online purchases.

“Native people have pride in their work,” said Iñupiat carver Sam Dimmick, who works in ivory, stone and bone and was a featured artist at the 2025 NMAI Native Art Market. He believes his training with five tribal elders (including two uncles) leaves him less vulnerable to copycats. “They drilled in me what to do and how to do it,” he said. “I try to protect my Native heritage.”

Having Indigenous experts available to evaluate items for sale might help, said Maybee. “I’d like to see more experienced art appraisers who are Native, but not enough are certified,” he said.

Another way to fight fraud is for dealers and buyers to establish provenance, the records of purchase or gifts, ensuring that every transfer of an object leads verifiably back to the artist. Yet, Berlo said, “provenance is hard to do. People are more secretive with Native American art.”

In 2005, two years before he died, Morrisseau authorized a complete catalogue of the first 30 years of his career, said art historian Robertson. The scholars who finally began work on the project in 2018 did not set out to authenticate each work but relied on a painting’s provenance trail leading to Morrisseau himself. Robertson prefers using the terms “secure” (based on provenance) versus “unsecured” for paintings without a paper trail. “But the catalog still includes some questionable pieces to avoid litigation,” said Robertson. “It was better to include a piece and leave it to the future to make a conclusion.”

“Pieces imported from other countries just to make a buck are problematic,” said Smith. “But if two Indigenous artists compete, we can handle that. At least we know that young people are picking up the needle.”

Imitation or Art?

With the introduction of computer programs that can replicate or simulate original art, the landscape of fraud is ever broader. Three-dimensional printing can reproduce any object, from pots to elaborate masks, that are indistinguishable from the original. In some cases this has helped restore lost techniques or items to communities for ceremonial purposes (such as the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History “cultural restoring” a Tlingit hat featured in the American Indian magazine article “Restoring Balance”). Yet such instances where technologies have been used for the benefit of Indigenous communities have been few. 

A partnership between the Norval Morrisseau Estate in British Columbia and the Acrylic Robotics company in Montreal is taking this to a new level. The estate developed Norval A.I., an artificial intelligence system to confront decades of fraud with science.  Following the development of Norval A.I., it partnered with Acrylic Robotics, whose advanced robotic and imaging technologies were already being used to analyze paintings and produce -precise painted outputs using a robotic arm.

This system allowed the estate to test and refine the system against higher-quality, legitimate replicas, which strengthened its accuracy and reliability. “What emerged was a rare exchange where better replicas made better authentication tools, and better tools made better replicas,” said Cory Dingle, CEO of the estate. “This wasn’t about making copies. It was about raising the standard of truth.”

“The system can not only help verify authenticity but can create new works by contemporary artists,” said Chloë Ryan, CEO of Acrylic Robotics. They can create original art on an electronic tablet connected to a robotic arm, which directs paint to paper or canvas to produce a limited run of copies, just as printmakers have done over centuries.

This partnership was a technological collaboration that allowed both teams to share data, methodologies and results, said Dingle. Through this exchange, Norval A.I. was able to analyze higher-fidelity, good-faith replicas produced using Acrylic Robotics’ technology—works that surpassed the quality of the forgeries that had flooded the market for decades. They are hoping their efforts will aid other Indigenous artists.

 “Native art is not just beautiful, it’s an expression of identity, sovereignty and tradition. When counterfeit and misrepresented goods flood the market, they don’t just steal dollars, they steal stories, heritage and trust,” Lamar said. “For Native artists, the stakes are high. Art sales are a primary source of income for many. For consumers, authenticity matters, they deserve to know that what they’re buying supports real Native artisans, not factories overseas. And for tribal communities, this is about more than art—it is about jobs, cultural continuity and economic sustainability. The Native arts economy represents hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Every fake on the market is money taken away from our communities.”

In addition to educating buyers, the recent successful prosecutions of cases in Canada and the United States are a start. “It’s important that federal law recognizes Native craftsmanship and that art can be both a career and a means of keeping culture alive,” said Schulze.