#nativeart: Witnessing the Indigenous Visual Landscape

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#nativeart: Witnessing the Indigenous Visual Landscape!

Mitchell Walford!

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#arth377!

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Prof. Alice Bennett!

2.19.2015!

The alteration of routine interaction with one’s surroundings can set a new course of

contemplation and awareness. Such was the case in this process-based experiential research

activity, which began with photographing instances of what could be understood as “indigenous

(inspired) art or design”. Though inspiration can prove difficult to trace, and may result in brand

names or icons obscured beyond the point of reasonable association, this twice-mediated!

encounter (through lens and image-sharing application Instagram), forced me to consider not

only the artist, context and site of the object of my encounter, but also how my uploaded

captures implicate my position as a conveyor of a representation (and perhaps interpretation) of

the objects. The themes discussed in this paper will reflect my experience and inquiry of the art/

objects depicted.!

! Below is an image of a streetlamp banner at Granville and Broadway. After noting the

bright contemporary colours and patterened composition of formline motifs, I began to wonder

how and why northwest coast design was representing these few blocks, and who the

commissioned artist might be. The Google search result “Granville street banners” returned a

post by the South Granville Blog (run by the South Granville Business Improvement

Association), which named him a “creative genius” and provided a link to a gallery displaying his

work. It focused on a history of street decoration (highlighting the King’s visit in 1939), using

urban-revival verbiage to praise the partnership between the SGBIA and Granville Street art

galleries on their “beautification and enhancement of the community.” Then I searched “Don

Yeomans” and discovered his biography and portfolio on spiritwrestler.com. Spirit Wrestler is a

Vancouver gallery representing Inuit, Northwest Coast and Maori artists. The ‘About Us’ page

includes the following description:!

“The gallery focuses on exhibitions that showcase contemporary directions in aboriginal art, including

cross-cultural communication, the use of new materials (such as glass and metal), and modern

interpretations of shamanism, environmental concerns, and other issues pertaining to the changing

world.”!

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His bio in the ‘Artist Index’ notes his exceptional skill and the collectability of his work, by gallery

and private buyer; immediately following is a list of sold works. The next Google hit was the

website of Douglas Reynolds Gallery (on Granville Street). The bio emphasized his deserving

reputation as a contemporary and somewhat experimental master of the Haida language of

formline design, and listed his numerous important commissions and solo shows, three of which

were held at DRG. He is also featured on frontpage under ‘Feature Commission’, a page

advertising the gallery’s role as representative between artist and a potential client/

commissioner. In all, there were no descriptions of artists or works clearly written by an

indigenous artist. Though their people/tribe was usually included, the bio’s presentation

emphasized the artists’ role in the art market, which is one step away from their indigineity being

used as a cultural/national add-value descriptor, like Swedish design or Japanese technology.!

! There are many images of Don Yeomans the NASA scientist (who resembles a nerdier

Harrison Ford), but few of the artist. Similarly, a news search relayed stories about comets. The

name ‘Yeomans’ is from Olde English “geong” and “mann” meaning “young-man”, and referred

to a worker or attendant in a noble household or, later, a freeholder farmer. It was likely given by

an “Indian Agent”, and might’ve been the Agent’s own surname. Though this was an accepted

administrative practice, Christian colonial naming went against the venerable traditions of

naming in most (if not all) indigenous peoples. Contemporary Haida anthropology understands

the act as a social reality, simultaneously naming one a distinct individual and the member of a

group. Given at various points in one’s life, names are a temporal, spatial and cosmological link,

one that connects the social order to the supernatural and material worlds. Names can be

appellative or titular, and can oscillate over time, over generations. Set against this tradition,

colonial naming as practiced by the aforementioned Agents was a disruptive, destructive,

ignorant practice serving legal purposes such as census.!

! This discussion of naming serves to contextualize an investigation into the various

practices of non-/representation of Indigenous artists. Employing Don Yeomans as a case study,

we find that the most available representations are of skilled professional artist (whose works

are intended for sale), and as a “creative genius” involved in business owners’ “beautification”

project. Though likely intended as a compliment, this romantic notion ties in with the late-

eighteenth-, early-nineteenth-century economic role of foreign object as colonial plunder and/or

bourgeois commodity, to be displayed at world fairs or in the collector of Orientalism’s home

gallery. (See Thomas Hope’s “Indian room”.) While no longer displayed as dislocated,

anonymous curios, the indigenous work of Yeomans—whether a pricetagged mask or

streetlamp banner—serves both as commodity and advertisement within the Granville galleries’

elite, upper- and middle-class art market. Though I did not search the sidewalk, I assumed that

these banners are presented without name or description of any kind, reflecting the same

motive as on the blog website: street beautification as advertisement of the neighbourhood’s

social, economic activity. If Haida figuration can be said to indicate story and spirituality of

people and place, this application serves as a banner of the business of indigenous art: a

marketplace for professional artists to participate in a very specific register of Canada’s

capitalist economic system, as organized, managed, advertised and blogged about by those

who have succeeded within it. I must be careful not to imply that indigenous artists are

unsuccessful; the banners, exhibitions and commissions are massive accomplishments.

However, the lack of self-representation from galleries, local business associations and the

virtual sidewalk of blogs. !

! The ‘Gallery Row’ page of southgranville.org promotes an exhibit running from February

1-28 at Uno Langmann gallery. “Colonization of the West” features works that speak to

“[…]shifts in power, the discovery of important resources, and the struggle for survival in a harsh

climate.” I imagine for the financially secure, Gore-Tex-ed citizens involved in the ‘Gallery Row’

art market, these themes seem quaint and distant, though worthy of artistic immortalization for

their triumphant battle over the elements which afforded the inauguration of this market. Though

I wonder if the caption speaks at all to the ongoing struggle for Indigenous works and artists to

be presented and represented on their own terms.!

! This investigation into market-representation and individualist understanding of artist-

identity could benefit from a contrasting example emphasizing self-representation and

collaboration. Since joining UBC faculty in 1987, Verna J Kirkness envisioned a central building

and gathering place for indigenous students and staff. When she learned in 1988 that the

wartime huts hitherto used by NITEP (Indigenous Teachers Education Program) would be torn !

down, Kirkness, along with staff, students and elders, began discussing in early 1989 their

future educational home, with the objective “to establish a physical facility on campus to

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enhance access and support services for First Nations students.” (2001:51) The project

fundraising (guided by the First Nations House of Learning Advisory Committee and the Native

Indian Education Advisory Committee) was incorporated into UBC’s existent World of

Opportunity Campaign and received significant private donations from the first major donor Jack

T Bell and William E and June Bellman, who were among those given indigenous names at the

opening ceremony. (2001:12) While fundraising continued, the community sought an architect

who would understand the vision and embrace the dialogical approach. Of Larry McFarland

Architects, Kirkness writes, “we were impressed with [the McFarland-designed longhouse at

Prince Rupert] and with the respect with which Larry treated us. [… He] was clearly a person

who would understand us and be willing to take direction from our committee, as we wanted the

building to reflect our vision.” (2001:53)!

! Though it might be easy to cast the architect in the individual, masterful role as creator,

the process and finished structure point to a collaborative, collectivistic model of creation. The

process of constructing the Longhouse involved a series of weekly open workshops. Students,

faculty, elders and architect discussed identity, function, site, image, as well as accessibility,

character, visibility, ambiance, safety, prestige, costs, control, impact, and quality of land.54 To

frame all this discussion was an opening prayer and encouragement from an elder, and often

lunch was provided, allowing the participants to form relational bonds in a casual, non-

hierarchical setting, as they worked towards the realization of their vision. Lastly, the collective

embraced the request of the Musqueam Band Council to implement a traditional Musqueam

shed-style design, in homage to the unique way in which the xʷməθkʷəyə̓m adapted local

materials to suit their community needs. !

! Concealed amidst the many trees, the textures of aged cedar and patina reveal the

Longhouse and Library. As trees grow from the soil’s gathered nutrients and elements show the

effect of their environment, so too have these structures grown from the grounds of historic and

present local community. Copper was chosen for its traditional value in indigenous economy;

MacMillan Bloedel cedar was sourced from Port Alberni, Port McNeill, Kelsey Bay and

Squamish inventories. (2001:56) It is used throughout, and clads the building in rough-hewn

horizontally hung planks, representing Salish design together with copper wire in place of cedar

rope. A few steps away, past a waterfall and lush greenery one finds the carved yellow cedar

door of the Longhouse—one of many beams, posts and other features done by numerous

indigenous artists (including two roof-beams by Don Yeomans). (2001:48) As for the Library, it

was modelled after an Interior Salish pit house; the pole symbolizing the notch-cut ladder juts

out above the treeline, and announces itself in the otherwise paved grid of campus design.

Though one enters the library via stairway or accessibility ramp, the curvature and angle of

staircase guide one into the centre of the open-air atrium, from which point the whole library is

seen through the curved glass wall. Instead of the warmth of a pit-house fire, there is the glow of

the library, its pages kindling for the scholar’s search for knowledge. But lest one conclude that

the profound meaning of live flame has been usurped, the nearby Sacred Circle is a spiritual

sanctuary with a fire pit for ceremonial use. Clearly, every consideration was taken to honour the

needs and identities of the community, but to present a cultural architecture in a modern

sensibility. !

! To contextualize this comprehensively collaborative process in contemporary practice, I

turn to an article by Leanne Unruh entitled ‘Dialogical Curating: Towards Aboriginal Self-

Representation in Museums.’ Dialogical curating involves “artists who work directly with their

source communities. The resulting artwork is not necessarily an object or exhibition, but rather a

conversation and an experience that directly affects its public, who, in many examples, are

marginalized indigenous communities.” (2015) Unruh explores the effort of de-colonization !

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evident in recent exhibits at District Six Museum (Cape Town, South Africa) and the Museum of

Anthropology (UBC, Vancouver, Canada). In opposition to the historic racist treatment and

erasure of native peoples and cultures, these institutions consulted the community and

audience before, during, and continuing after the exhibits—like the extensive process of

workshops and consultations. District Six Museum, a community-run, non-governmental, not-

for-profit institution, had its first show in 1994, entitled Streets: Retracing District Six. Following

an overwhelming positive response, the show became the theme for the four years following the

two-week exhibit, and some features became fixtures in the architecture of the space. At MOA,

a relationship between museum staff and indigenous weavers and elders formed over the !

display of certain blankets, which were a source for study for the weavers. Eventually, this

relationship led to the exhibit Hands Of Our Ancestors, a collaborative exhibit curated by

Elizabeth Lominska Johnson and featuring the historic blankets and contemporary works by the

weavers. In these examples, dialogical curating facilitates collective re/presentation and creation

just as the dialogic design process of the Longhouse resulted in a collaborative ‘work’ that will

continue to act as a dialogic space, committed to ongoing dialogue within and beyond the

student/staff indigenous community, such as in regular open meals. Unruh notes that more

recently, the museum initiated the Reciprocal Research Network, a collaborative, user-

interactive platform co-developed by the Musqueam Indian Band, the Stó:lō Nation/Tribal !

Council, the U'mista Cultural Society and the Museum of Anthropology. (2015) This venture

critiques western intellectual tradition’s notion of history as a transcendent, coherent

progression by inviting multiple voices. Furthermore, “the use of online space creates a place

outside of the reservation for indigenous peoples, a way of re-drawing those boundaries that

were created by colonial powers.” (2015)!

! I would like to note that the unique design of the Longhouse is not exempt from

institutional framing. For didactic purposes, UBC’s blue-and-white utilitarian signage persists

here in an aesthetic act of naming, guiding the passerby’s understanding of the title and

purpose of the building within the educational infrastructure. Similarly, the website advertises the

First Nations Conference Room (by listing its traits of “Northwest Coast architecture”, “Spring

dance floor”, “Reflects Aboriginal traditions and cultures”) as a rentable asset in an economic !

context. This evokes the blog’s reduction of Yeoman’s banner design to “beautification and!

enhancement of the community” or the manufacturer’s use of a crude, (mis)appropriated

Thunderbird logo as decal in an example below. Though many would argue the positive aspects

of revenue and publicity, representation by the market pales in comparison to self-

representation’s capability of communicating story and identity. At the opening ceremony,

significant advocates and donors were given indigenous names in a rare moment (in this

institution and society, at least) of not only self-representation, but representing another in a

tradition, personal, and cultural manner. !

! So far this paper has explored individual/collective artistic identity and self-/market-

representation in two current instances of indigenous art and architecture, but little attention has!

been paid to those as they manifest in online space. The next image stretches the guidelines of !

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personally-witnessed indigenous art/design in two ways. Firstly, I did not witness the content (or

snap the photo) in-person, by which I mean offline; I will argue that its intended audience and

viewing context is online. Secondly, whether one considers the image or the depicted scene,

neither contain any work/piece/object of art/design done/created by an indigenous artist. It does,

however, depict the Ojibway artist Larissa Healey (@gurltwentythree), and what I will take as an

example of the performance of (artist-)identity using the medium of internet technology. !

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! The discussion of the indigenous and technology goes beyond art-making, beyond

social utility, and towards the differing understandings or meanings of technology—specific to

this paper, of the internet. Coast Salish artist Yuxweluptun relates the use of technology to a

means to express ‘modernalities’—the instances of “intersection and hybridization of western

and indigenous technology and aesthetics”, which provides a productive lens through which to

consider this rich example. (Kroker 2008:149) One can read the depicted figure as a pastiche of

pop-cultural signifiers: skateboarder style, Buddhist prayer beads (“Buddabeeds dayly prerrrz

lov n life” reads the caption), an oversized graffiti-tag graphic T, camouflage pants, a pose

evoking a rap artist gripping her “chains”. Notably, almost all relate to skater or hip-hop style,

two counter-cultural movements that carry particular resonance in today’s indigenous artist

community. With frequent collaborator Corey Bulpitt, Heatley submitted a mural (of native

iconography) to the Vancouver Art Gallery’s ‘Beat Nation’ exhibit in 2012. However, much of her

work is within the hip-hop tradition of wild-style graffiti, without indigenous imagery. (image005)

Following Yuxweluptun’s definition, these pieces, seen without a biographical bias, are simply

examples of west coast street art. However, as an intersection between indigenous artist and

western aesthetics, it requires an inquiry of the significance of the artist’s indigenous identity,

and re/presentation thereof. Dana Claxton writes, “whether the design elements are void of

traditional iconography, the makers of these which are available online or elsewhere, exemplify

a particular cultural history experience, and expression distinct to Northwest Coast

communities” (Townsend-Gault et al. 2013:949) Seeing indigenous artists as members of global

artistic community, Maskegon-Iskwew writes that they “require a sensitivity to and negotiation

with the cultures of all the beings and forces of their interconnected worlds.” (Townsend-Gault et

al. 2013:959) Claxton then describes the internet as a “site for self-liberation and self-

desubjugation” through the cultivation of an online self.(2013:949) Though many indigenous

names are inherited or given, an individual is sometimes required to take a journey or create an

object in order to gain a name, a mask, or the right to a dance. This is one way of understanding

the aliases (and Instagram handles) of taggers and graffiti artists, but this self-autonomy is in

the context of the tribe or collective—both artistic and indigenous. !

! Approaching the indigenous/western intersect from a more theoretical angle, Cree/Métis

theorist Loretta Todd argues that cyberspace is built on western thought, evidenced by its

aspirations of transcendence (by escaping the limitations of the body, senses), “a direct fear of

the natural”, and its conflation of Cartesian duality and the Christian myth of salvation.(Kroker

2008:148) Consideration of an online indigenous artist, then, requires a more comprehensive

methodology, including a different approach to virtual reality—not the transcendent “data” side of

a duality with the natural. Jackson 2bears suggests that within a (Jungian or indigenous)

animistic view, everything—including technology, the internet—would be animistic, having some

spiritual, mystical and/or psychic dimension to its identity. (2008:148) Paraphrasing Todd,

2bears calls this a “return to the flesh”: through artistic representation, the virtual and its beings

are not only represented but clothed, embodied by the artist or dancer, a slippage that

establishes a new space that incorporates both real and virtual. (2008:148) In this way,

@gurltwentythree is not merely a name, but an elaborate character that exists in both worlds:

painting concrete walls and posting digital images in the same (key)stroke. This resonates with

indigenous tradition of masks and dance, as spirit-bestowed object used by the artist in

communication with the realities of spiritual, material, and technological, all at once. !

! The process of taking these photos (and countless more), posting them, exploring my

classmates’ encounters from Squamish, Port Alberni, Seattle and elsewhere, and then

researching and writing, has instilled a multiple reflex to stop and inquire about an instance of

indigenous art, or even a potential appropriation. I watch the Seqhawks differently. I remember

wearing a headband at a music festival, and wish I could return to the cave paintings in Stein

Valley where I once hiked, to hopefully encounter the spirit of that sacred space. From the few

photos I discussed here, the topics that arose most prominently were of the self-/representation

of the artist, both individual and collective, and the way an indigenous interpretation of

technology shifts the meaning of identity, art, performance and space. However, I do not wish to

argue a coherent narrative, but have tried to remain faithful to methodological and interpretive

treatment witnessed in the most astute texts in my research, which necessarily shift from image

to image: from a socio-historical and observational examination of the neighbourhood banners,

to a process-analysis in the context of similar dialogical practice, and finally a theoretical and

cultural consideration of the meanings of online identity. !

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works cited!

!Claxton, Dana, et al. Transference, Tradition, Technology: Native New Media Exploring Visual &

Digital Culture. Banff, Alta: Walter Phillips Gallery Editions in association with Art Gallery of

Hamilton & Indigenous Media Arts Group, 2005.!

Kirkness, Verna J., Jo-ann Archibald, and University of British Columbia. First Nations House of

Learning. The First Nations Longhouse: Our Home Away from Home. Vancouver: First Nations

House of Learning, 2001.!

Kroker, Arthur, and Marilouise Kroker. Critical Digital Studies: A Reader. Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 2008.!

Townsend-Gault, Charlotte, et al. Native Art of the MNorthwest Coast: A History of Changing

Ideas. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2013.!

Unruh, Leanne. "Dialogical Curating: Towards Aboriginal Self‐Representation in Museums."

Curator: The Museum Journal 58.1 (2015): 77-89. Accessed February 16, 2015 from !

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/cura.12099/full.!

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