Posts tagged Indigenous.

I hadn’t heard of Mark Igloliorte (an Inuk from Nunatsiavut [Northern Labrador]) before I visited the Beat Nation exhibition now on view at the Power Plant contemporary art gallery in Toronto, and I’m both so upset for that and glad that I have come across these beautiful paintings.

His contribution to Beat Nation are a red skateboard rail, the “Komatik Skatebox” - active skating equipment-turned minimalist sculpture - and my favorite piece, a video-sculptural work where two small videos of the nalukataq (Inupiat blanket toss) are projected onto the top side of a skateboard mounted on the wall. The connection is to movement and energy between the very traditional and very modern sports. Unfortunately I can’t find any documentation of this, so I just suggest everyone visit the Power Plant and see it (and the rest of this landmark exhibition) for yourself.

On a different note Igloliorte has also produced these very current, psychological paintings, alongside a series of more current works mirroring cast-off objects from his studio called simply Diptychs (with the reverential and thus ironic message being clear). These, especially, show an intensity and mixture of foreboding and peace. Likewise, given the theme of kayakers and the composition, they at first recall a theme common to  early 20th century photography (from both white photographers and early Inuit photographers, notably John Møller), but being in a highly painterly style and so thoroughly constructing the atmosphere with very non-photographic textures, they also position themselves against the old photographs, as a type of reviewing.

On the fashionable Northwest Coast and those who profit from it

The richness and vibrancy of the myriad visual traditions of Canada’s Northwest Coast first nations is well known and has certainly been discussed by many people more experienced and qualified to engage it than I. What I would like to write about now is one of the myriad examples of  non-indigenous artists and designers brazenly appropriating a superficial understanding of these traditions and building a career upon their appropriation, far away from the regions they exploit and far from accountability.

image

The above is an album cover designed by Icelandic designer Siggi Odds. On its own it is offensive and appropriative, yes - not least because the figure created by the vaguely Haida, Coast Salish or Tlingit shapes is obviously ethnically European - but hardly unusually or exceptionally so; unfortunately since the Canadian, American and European hunger for ‘native’ imagery began growing exponentially in the 1960s and ’70s, the art market has been flooded by superficial Northwest Coast-style graphic works to such a point that it is just expected. What disturbs me most is the texts I found in combination with it on the website It’s Nice That.

The title says it all, “The wild and native illustration and design of Iceland’s Siggi Odds,” following up with the adjectives “weird,” “brilliant,” and astoundingly, “utterly unique.” The interview-piece continues to gush with the only references to the overwhelming aboriginal influence being the moments: “[his work] is inspired by the native Canadian artwork of his childhood home in Vancouver”, and in Odds’s own words, that “aesthetically [he is] obviously influenced by aboriginal art” (as we all know there is only one aboriginal art). The rest of his answers to questions about inspiration implies the ideas for his works all come suddenly and independently from the inner workings of his mind. Particularly considering the below image and it’s corresponding text from the artist’s website, Siggi Odds’s work is decidedly not nice.

image

This style, widely known, has been evolving for thousands of years and remains as a definitive traditional style [note, singular] common in essence to indian groups on the Northwest coast of America, from Alaska to Washington.

The end product was called Nang Jáadaas, which means ‘The Woman’ in the Haida language, an idolization of the women in my life, as the indians idolize the animals in their spirituality and surroundings.

As said, I plan on progressing my own take on the Northwest Coast style as it remains intriguing in its beauty of form and profound symbolism, but seeing as this is a style that took hundreds or thousands of years to evolve, it will take some time.

There is no denying that it is not a style that belongs to the Icelander despite living in Vancouver (with hundreds of thousands of other non-aboriginals), and it certainly makes no unique contribution or intellectual engagement with the tradition he exploits. Further there is absolutely no evidence that Odds ever engaged or collaborated with Northwest Coast first nations artists. The text itself is oddly individualistic and implies a highly independent practice, never discussing how he came to understand the stylistic rules and conventions he draws from. It seems as though Odds believes he is the only one trying to “evolve” “the style”, not least considering the dozens of exceptional Northwest Coast artists exploring the aesthetic traditions which are their own, and bringing them far further than Odds’s intent would.

image

Why would It’s Nice That not, for example, discuss Lawrence Yuxweluptun (Coast Salish), whose practice and works such as the above New Chiefs on the Land simultaneously discuss the monolith of the European modernist tradition in relation to Northwest Coast arts as well as intricate political issues (such as the rise of corporate reserves, the Seminole Tribe of Florida’s being a prime example, its possessions including the Hard Rock Cafe). Or Andrew Dexel (Nlakapamux) who has a new exhibition in Toronto at Neubacher Shor gallery, and who actively collaborates with and engages other aboriginal artists, from Arizona and Brazil in his most recent works. Or to remain within a more ‘design’-oriented context, Corey Bulpitt (Haida) who has a growing number of design products as well as a grafiti piece in the monumental Beat Nation exhibition at Toronto’s Power Plant gallery, contextualizing Haida aesthetic traditions into an urban, hip hop environment.

image

The perverse European fixation on superficial references to North American indigenous peoples is especially heightened in Scandinavia, as some of you are aware. In Norwegian Ole Robert Sunde’s recent novel Krigen var min families historie (The war was my family’s story) the main character, a child, identifies himself as an Indian (and it should be noted that in the Nordic languages, North American indigenous peoples are rarely if ever referred to with words translating to ‘indigenous’ or ‘aboriginal’, let alone names of specific nations), but remarks that he feels this way despite being not feeling connected to nature, ignoring the generations of real Indians who were themselves brought far from their traditional lands, and stripped of wealth, access and power which the average Norwegian possesses, without the means to return. In this instance, with Indians being likened to an ignorant, self-absorbed child, the popular stereotype of Indians as stupid and selfish is reinforced. Or in Dopler, another Norwegian novel by Erlend Loe, which references the ‘savage’ picture of indigenous peoples; after the main character who is living in the woods outside Oslo kills a moose and eats a piece of meat raw, “like a red indian” (included in both the original Norwegian and it’s English translation).

The European’s love to employ the generic “Indian” as a broad-reaching metaphor is well-documented. These works are so dangerous because - since the majority of these artists, designers and authors never even consider engaging the peoples they reference and mostly work completely outside of North America - they would not likely be picked up by actual North American aboriginals. They are thereby allowed to continue working with no accountability. It is not simply a matter of poor-taste  or ideological theft - it is about the European hold over control of aboriginal peoples’ identities in the artistic world.

First American Art

image

In the category of things you should know and be excited about, I place First American Art - an upcoming magazine dedicated to indigenous art of the Americas. Covering a hemispheric scope, the magazine will surely uncover an immense diversity of ideas and art across all media and hundreds of cultures. 

The publication is operated by two excellent artists, America Meredith (Cherokee) and Natasha Wagner (Chickasaw) whose own art practices challenge mainstream representations and attitudes of “indigenous art” from all sides and perspectives, through beautiful (sometimes alternatively or perversely so) images. In their own words:

“First American Art (FAA) magazine promotes and critically analyzes the arts of Indigenous peoples of the Americas. FAA will achieve this by articulating and popularizing Indigenous critical theory in ways accessible to native communities as well as the non-Native art world. We are the bridge between academia and the general public. We provide a platform for established and emerging Native artists in all media. FAA discusses the human condition through the lens of Indigenous art.”

The first issue of FAA is expected to be released in March. To learn more about the magazine visit their website where you can also find notices for exhibitions, resources and opportunities across North America (and subscribe!). Take a trip to their blog as well where you can now read two articles on the young, multidisciplinary Greenlandic artist Maria Paninguak Kjærulff and Taos Pueblo fashion designer Patricia Michaels.

Coming off of decades (centuries) of an indigenous art discourse driven by Western minds and interests, it is certainly a much-needed and long-time-coming resource.

image

First Image: America Meredith, Gohiyuhi (Respect)

Second Image: America Meredith, Medicine II

Source: http://www.ahalenia.com/america/index.html

arlaat:

Nujappik from East Greenland

ENDELIG

This playlist of mine is pretty nice, if I can say so myself. Name inspired by someone you all know well, clearly.

Native artistry is not pure aesthetics, or art for art’s sake: as often as not Indian writers are trying to invoke as much as evoke. The idea behind the ceremonial chant is that language, spoken in the appropriate ritual contexts, will actually cause a change in the physical universe. This element exists in contemporary Native writing and must be continually explored in building up a national body of literature and criticism – language as invocation that will upset the balance of power, even to the point, as Zebolsky argues, where stories will be preeminent factors in land redress.

Craig S. Womack, Red on Red: Native American Literary Separatism (via ndnsurgency)

(via selchieproductions)

#Art  #Indigenous  

Another challenging work by Erica Lord: Quartered, Quantified and Classified: My Blood Quantum Cabinet.

This work focuses in on the immediate fact of indigeneity; how are citizenship, membership, ‘authenticity’ and ‘belonging’ defined by nations and communities that have had many of the formal, concrete structures and symbols used to define nationhood diluted or stripped away? Interestingly - though not unexpectedly - in the US and Canada, the regulations for determining indigeneity often draw directly from the white bureaucracy and ideology that put tribal/national membership in such a precarious situation in the first place.

As Lord writes, the cabinet contains “The approximate amount of my body’s amount of blood, ~4.5 quarts, divided into 16 equal parts and preserved in glass canning jars.” Interestingly it does not contain only a certain amount, that would qualify an individual for enrollment in any particular nation. It is the blood of a whole person, because an indigenous person is wholly native. How would one pick apart the non-native blood? Certainly no one, indigenous or not, would survive if only their ‘pure’ blood (however that is defined) were kept and the rest expelled. And so Lord states that the fact of indigeneity can perhaps not be defined by anything so solidly and clinically in the physical world. But it is no less a fact, when it is defined by one’s community involvement, one’s language and one’s beliefs.

So while Lord clearly rejects the use of blood quantum to define such an abstract, personal and communal thing as indigeneity, cleverly, she provides no alternative. It is as fascinating to examine the arguments about how to regulate enrollment within indigenous communities, as it is to question why no better and more community-specific and -centered methods have been developed. And perhaps the answer to the latter lies with the former.

I certainly am not qualified to speak about the complexity of tribal enrollment in North America. But I think that Lord’s work is also pertinent to indigenous communities outside of the New World, particularly ones without this confusion. Because even if a nation is entirely in control of its membership and has systems in place to defend it, this work asks the viewer to consider the fact of indigeneity as a fusion of experience, heritage, community and the individual, and reminds the viewer that the obsession of measurement of indigeneity was once (and often still is) considered measurement of personhood.

Erica Lord, Artifact Piece, Revisited, performed in 2008 at the National Museum of the American Indian. Lord is Athabascan and Iñupiaq.

This performance reflects the ever-present theme of the exhibition of peoples and lived materials, that is such a conflict in indigenous aesthetic issues. For centuries Western bodies of academia meticulously “collected”, “gathered” (to use the conspicuous terms) materials for exhibition of the many “exotic” and “primitive” nations of the world. Such collections then added prestige to the visual rhetoric that the non-Native used/s to define and confine “Native”, for it is hard to imagine white collectors not having the colourful, popular picture of “Native” in mind. 

It is hard enough for objects that are defined by their use and by their makers - clothing, ceremonial garb, baskets, boats - to convey a people when they are not being lived in. But this work also shines a light on the more insidious topic in the exhibiting of peoples - the active collection and exhibition of human remains. The constant fight to repatriate human remains in museum and university collections around the world has often ignited opposition from the scientific community, that I can’t speak to (other than to say how can any individual or body, regardless of their purpose, claim to have rights to a person).

But let’s look at this from a curatorial perspective, for the vast majority of these remains are not actively studied. What, could exhibiting, collecting, hoarding away these stolen people seek to accomplish beside upholding the idea of indigenous cultures as stagnating at best, more often dead, and so the pretext of white superiority, because it lives on? Beside exciting an attraction to the macabre, that keeps alive both the myth of indigenous peoples as bloodthirsty, and especially the role of Native Americans as enemy, by conjuring up images of gore and warfare? And what does it say that this is the theme most highlighted in exhibition placards, the story of war, and not that in North America, orders were sent out by courts that Native Americans should be killed and their bodies taken, for extermination, and implicitly, for sport? That is the real bloodthirst.

And in this and any academic rhetoric, is lost the fact that  the exhibited material was a person, with a life entirely their own. In such exhibition design, the assertion is that - whether the material is human remains or lived objects - a fractional artifact from a single life can be made into an easily digestible visual, and expanded and held up as a representative first for a whole community, then a whole nation, then for all that falls under “Native American” then again for all that falls under “Native.” And so Lord places among the traditional clothing and jewelry, childhood photos, and in an entirely separate display are photos and objects that could in no way, visually, be called “Native” except that they belong to a Native person. But through ownership they are as native as the anorak and the body lying beside them. And the body one confronts is neither dusty and withered nor battle-torn, but warmly lit, healthy and peaceful. And still as a viewer one can’t know her by seeing her, though of course, one knows she is alive. She is still reduced to “exhibited material” and if she exists as a person it is to reject one’s “viewing”, to separate viewing from knowing. So when an exhibited person is as present as they possibly could be, and still one can not know them by viewing them, how can a withered piece of a person from another time be expected to speak for a multitude of living nations?

Related: Inuik at the 2nd Nordic Fashion Biennale in Seattle, Pia Arke at the permanent Greenlandic exhibition in the National Museum in Copenhagen.

fyeahindigenousfashion:

Indigenous Style Icon of the Week: Dorothy Grant (Haida) 

Dorothy Grant was born in Hydaburg, Alaska and grew up in Ketchikan, Alaska. She is a Kaigani Haida of the raven clan from the Brown Bear House of Howkan. Among her family crests are: Two-finned Killer Whale, Shark, Berry Picker in the Moon, Two-headed Raven and Brown Bear.

In 1983 she began sketching Haida art onto clothing. As the idea developed, she was strongly motivated by non-native designers who were incorporating North West Coast native art into their clothing. She felt it was a poor representation of a beautiful art form. She decided to sharpen her design and art skills by attending the Helen Lefeaux School of Fashion Design in Vancouver BC, graduating in 1988.

In 1993 Dorothy Grant won the Best Professional Designer Award at the “Winds of Change” fashion competition held in Toronto. The event was sponsored by the Canada Council for Native Business. As part of the award, Dorothy traveled to France to take part in the Paris fall fashion event “Les Vendanges sur la Montaigne”. Her work was also featured at a special reception at the Canadian Embassy in Paris.

In 1994 Dorothy opened her first retail store in the prestigious Sinclair Centre in Vancouver, BC. In 2008, Ms. Grant moved forward with a 2,500 s.f. studio located in the heart of Vancouver, BC’s SOMA district. To compliment her wearable art, she presented original sand-blasted, hand-blown glass sculptures and ceremonial hats she was inspired to create. The studio also features art from other native artists.

Dorothy has been featured in books Totems to Turquoise: Jewelry Arts of the Northwest and Southwest, Haida Art, and Art of the Northwest Coast

Fired by creative forces, Grant spins the 10,000 year old legends of the Haida into high style, fusing myth into each flawlessly designed and manufactured garment. Drawing from ancient stories, she translates age-old symbols and forms into equally timeless clothing. Her garments, ceremonial button blankets and spruce root hats are treasured by Haidas as expressions of living culture and may be found in art collections and various museums in Canada and the United States. 

(via crankyduojar-deactivated2012073)

Since I do not think I have seen this mentioned here yet, and just because it’s great, voila the antithesis to those fashion-minded, consumptive white people with Indian Great-Grandmother Syndrome (IGGS). It is Native Max, a magazine of Native fashion and the arts which is written, created, photographed and modeled by Native Americans. With the ‘Native American-inspired trend’ wreaking havoc, and with Etsy proving to be an unsafe or unsupportive zone, it’s just as important that authentic Native artists and designers build communities, venues and forums to celebrate and promote their own work on their own terms, as it is to discredit the appropriators. Since they are very new (their first print edition, and their second edition in total, is coming out in August) they seem very enthusiastic to draw in new Native models, artists and contributors, from all different nations. NM’s website is linked to the photo, and here you can see an interview with the magazine’s creator Kelly Holmes, Lakota.