Drew Hayden Taylor - Me Artsy

Me Artsy

Compiled and Edited by

Drew Hayden Taylor

An exploration and deconstruction of the Aboriginal artistic spirit as seen and practised through various art forms that demonstrate reflections on society through an Indigenous perspective, including talents not just limited to those considered strictly traditional in origin, but inclusive of more contemporary forms of cultural expression.

Introduction and this collection 2015 by Drew Hayden Taylor

Individual essays 2015 by Zacharias Kunuk, Monique Mojica, Marianne Nicolson, Maxine Noel, Kim Picard, Murray Porter, Karyn Recollet, Santee Smith, Rose Stella, Drew Hayden Taylor, Steve Teekens, Richard Van Camp, David Wolfman and Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored

in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For a copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

Douglas and M c Intyre (2013) Ltd.

PO Box 219

Madeira Park, BC

Canada V0N 2H0

www.douglas-mcintyre.com

Cataloguing in Publication data available from Library and Archives Canada

ISBN 978-1-77162-070-3 (print)

ISBN 978-1-77162-071-0 (ebook)

Editing by Cheryl Cohen

Cover design by Anna Comfort OKeeffe

Cover illustration by Maxine Noel

Interior design by Shed Simas

Printed and bound in Canada

Distributed in the US by Publishers Group West

Douglas and McIntyre acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $157 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country. We also gratefully acknowledge financial support from the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and from the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Introduction

Art is universal. You cannot be a people or a culture without art. It shows who we are, and what is important to us. It also shows how we think, and how we express ourselves. The beauty of art is its breadth of expression. When I look at a beautifully baked and decorated cake, I appreciate it just as much for its aesthetic nature as for the taste (almost). A dance performance, a beautifully designed jacket, a painting they are all different, but all can represent the traditions of a people. Art can take your breath away, it can make you laugh, it can make you cry, it can make you spend insane amounts of money to possess it. Or its something your six-year-old can do that finds its way to the refrigerator door.

Welcome to Me Artsy. In many ways, I think its probably easier to define and explore humour and sexualityand two earlier books of mine struggled to explain these elements of Native culturethan to deconstruct the artistic spark. Yet here we are again, trying to express the concept of talent and inspiration. I guess I am a sucker for punishment.

Me Artsy not only sticks its big toe into the sea of aboriginal creativity in its many different forms, but also tries to understand why we decide to get our toes so wet. Being an artist is a complex and fabulous existence, but it is often fraught with unique perils. We are all artistsdeciding what we are going to wear that day or read that night or how we cut our hair are all artistic choices. That being said, we all walk or run, but few have become world-class sprinters or marathoners. Only a handful of us have based our lives around such tenuous and frequently unappreciated professions. I dont think you are technically allowed to call yourself an artist unless you have had somebody say to you, at least half a dozen times, Wouldnt you rather be a lawyer or an electrician? Worthy occupations for sure, with their own unique creative perspectives, but being a writer or an actor or a musician, or working in a hundred other occupations that celebrate humanitys need to generate something individually ingenious from nothing or something completely different well, I find that a little special. And yes, I know I am hardly objective on the topic.

Within the covers of this book you will find fourteen (thirteen not counting me) fabulous and interesting artists, all sharing their artistic origins with you, and thoughts about what they do and why. I have tried to present as many different and varied creative professions as possible, to highlight the rich nature of our countrys aboriginal arts. There are people here who celebrate their culture by practising traditional and time-honoured arts, right beside those who have embraced new mediums to better explore their heritage. We have people from the Far North, and both sides of the country. We have Inuit, Haudenosaunee, Anishnawbe, Haida, Dogrib and many others. Its a cornucopia of people, cultures and arts. We have a little something for everyone.

So put on your dancing shoes, get out your glasses, dig the wax out of your ears and set the table. You are about to meet some very interesting people.

Drew Hayden Taylor

Curve Lake First Nation, Ontario

October 2014

Story of My Life

Zacharias Kunuk

producer & director

I was born in a sod house, made from the earth around us, near Kapuivik, Baffin Island, on November 27, 1957. At that time the Inuit were still living on the land like their fathers and grandfathers before them. Back then, the Roman Catholics had already built a church on nearby Igloolik Island. That and the Hudsons Bay trading post were the only wooden buildings in the area.

I have many memories of living in the North as a child, like being carried on my mothers back. One time I woke up there and stuck my head out into the bright sunlight. My mother was standing over a hole in the ice with a rifle in her hands. This is where seals come up for air. One suddenly appeared and she fired. I remember the noise of the gun scaring me so much. I also remember having long hair. I was named after my fathers mother, Kigutikajuk, and so my parents didnt cut my hair because they treated me as her. They used to comb my hair and it would hurt a lot, and I hated that. Another memory is of being on a dog team one spring. We were trying to cross a river. My brother and I were in a wooden box on the sled and my father was in front. We started crossing the river, with my mother farther ahead, leading the dogs. She was up to her waist in the river.

Several years later, when we were still living in our sod house, an old man blew his top. There were about fifteen people living in an open room. The mans son tried to sharpen his spearhead and the man didnt like it and, for some reason, lost his mind. Everybody ran out of the house after he started digging at his bed and acting generally crazy. We were about to go to sleep when this happened and my mother and Iin my long johns, without bootsran out of the sod house in the dead of winter. I remember running outside in my bare feet.