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“I started to establish myself…as an Indian artist. Pardon me, establish myself
as an artist who happens to be Indian.” – Goyce Kakegamic, late 1970s
Since the mid 1960s, when Woodland School art became widely accepted,
contemporary Aboriginal artists have faced many challenges their non-Aboriginal
counterparts have not. From lack of resources, to limited recognition and
preconceived notions, they are constantly navigating between artistic practice
and cultural expectations. For establishing and established Manitoba artists
Kale Bonham, Helen Madelaine, Leah Fontaine, Riel Benn and
KC Adams, one
recurring obstacle they face are the existing stereotypes about Aboriginal
artists.
In North America, stereotypes have played a key role in the settlement of the
west, as the staged photography of Edward Curtis, and postcards portraying a
romantic, bountiful west enticed settlers. Hollywood Cowboy and Indian flicks
and dime store novels contributed to the bounty, as interpretations of First
Peoples as submissive, savage, mythical, and sexual objects entered North
American popular culture. For contemporary artists, misconceptions about the
Woodland School Arts movement also prove to be problematic.
In Manitoba, the legacy left by the Professional Native Artists Inc, commonly
known as the Woodland School Arts Movement is strong. The seven artists who
belonged to the collective were Daphne Odjig, Jackson Beardy, Norval Morrisseau,
Carl Ray, Joseph Sanchez, Eddy Cobiness, and Alex Janvier. They were successful
in having their voices heard and talents acknowledged at a time when newly
formed Aboriginal rights organizations, like the Manitoba Indian Brotherhood or
Manitoba Metis Federation were receiving much needed attention.
The group worked out of Daphne Odjig’s commercial gallery in Winnipeg from the
mid-60s to the early 70s. They were collectively concerned with copyright
issues, art markets, resources to other Aboriginal artists and the politics of
the art world at the time. Their diverse contemporary art visually interpreted
oral stories, post-contact history, and world views through painted imagery of
stylized animals, spirits, and landscapes. It became recognized in Aboriginal
communities as a vital expression of Aboriginality. As well, this movement
caused excitement on the Canadian art scene, and a market developed, blazing
trails for those who came after.
Due to the wild imaginations of a non-Aboriginal audience, Woodland School
artists were often romanticized to be the survivors or revivers of a great and
noble past. Their work was treated as ethnographic objects and at times,
Woodland School artists received more recognition from history museums than from
contemporary art galleries. According to curator and writer Barry Ace, Norval
Morriseau, who is considered the Grandfather of Woodland School Art, was
involved in creating the mythic construction of himself as a contemporary
primitive. He suggests that this construct “has not only served as a mask to
shelter undesirable influences of modernity, but also as a strategic marketing
ploy that was incredibly successful in stimulating a lucrative art buying
public, by offering them a rare opportunity to own a fragmentary glimpse of a
mythical past.” This does not suggest that Morrisseau was not genuine about
following spiritual doctrine, but that he chose to self-define in a way that
gained him access to galleries, agents, and buyers. He was both role model and
role-player.
Ideas about what contemporary art is within Aboriginal communities became
concreted to Woodland style art. Curator Lee-Ann Martin asserts that art existed
in Aboriginal communities historically, but it “was framed, integrated, and
discussed in ways that differ greatly from Western categorizations. Contexts for
art were, and are, those of the everyday and of the religious, of the
celebratory and of the ceremonial.” Even though Woodland School art was, and is
contemporary art, to many First Peoples, it is considered traditional art,
because there are concepts that are inspired by spirituality and traditional
cultural practice. This makes it emblematic of honouring the past, and affirming
our presence. For artists who emerged later and whose work sways from this
movement, their own communities often do not respond with as much enthusiasm,
even if their work reflects their Aboriginality.
A side effect has been the expectation placed on contemporary artists to be an
authority on Aboriginal issues, spiritually enlightened, keepers of the past, or
paint in the style of Woodland School artists. Over forty years after the seven
Woodland School artists made their mark, artists are at times still located as
“Indian artist.” Riel Benn, a painter living and working in Birdtail Sioux is
one example. Benn was quite young when his talents became recognized with
Magazine Series. These works placed Aboriginal historic leaders on the covers of
pop cultural magazines, such as People or Time. The paintings were a reaction to
the tragic death of his brother, but were mostly celebrated because of the
cultural commentary, Benn exemplifying the tenacity of youth, and his natural
talent.
Benn exists in a dichotomy between private artistic process and the public
presentation of himself and his work. In the confines of his home where he
creates, Benn does not ponder whether his subject matter is culturally
appropriate or how to deal with public perceptions. In the public sphere, Benn
faces the pressures of being a recognized youth role model, and the expectations
that go with that title. He also admits to a bit of role-playing initially in
his career (at the urging of managers or curators) for the sake of his audience
and potential buyers. In order to “not be rude” or burst peoples romantic
bubbles, Benn rarely challenged the expectations of him being spiritual, the
voice of the youth, or an authority on all Aboriginal issues. This exemplifies
how stereotypes or cultural expectations can be silencing.
Recently, Benn paints what he defines as “humorous and human situations… I focus
on screwed up things.” The Best Man series is an example. These painted
narratives contain his alter ego, the eccentric, cynical Best Man. They reflect
upon Benn’s fascination with celibacy while dealing with ignorance, loneliness
and jealousy at the same time. The work only marginally references Benn’s
cultural background, but focuses on internal dialogues that are relatable to
many. With this work, it is impossible to locate him as an “Indian artist.” He
is more role model than role-player.
According to Australian artist Jacqui Katona, examining the land is reflective
of Aboriginal art (Aboriginal art, not “Indian art.”). She suggests, “Our land
cannot be transformed as a resource, our land is part of our family, it reflects
our relationships with each other, it connects our souls, it feels as we do and
it grieves – as we do – when our connection with it is impaired. These are the
issues which are central to Aboriginal art.” Helen Madelaine, a painter living
and working in Brandon, Manitoba, concurs with Katona. She creates abstract
paintings that reflect a spiritual connection to the land, and what she
considers spiritual dreams.
A soft spoken yet politically driven woman, Madelaine is concerned with our loss
of connection to the land. She suggests, “Our connection to the land is being
lost, because of what is considered progress…On reserves, there is no room to
move. You can’t hunt too far off the reserve, because if you go too far, then
you’re on white man’s land.” Madelaine’s vibrant paintings merge Aboriginal
figures or animals with landscapes, reminding viewers of how integrated the land
and beings should be, and the disconnect that exists.
Despite her subject matter being culturally relevant, Madelaine’s abstract
translations of the land do not fit the Woodland Style model. Getting support
for her work and being taken seriously as an artist has thus been challenging.
As well, living in rural Brandon means missed opportunities that one would find
in larger cities like Winnipeg. Although she studied Fine Arts at Brandon
University, Madelaine is now studying Community Development, with the hope to
use art as a healing tool with her people. She suggests that by adding it to an
already accepted field, those who do not value contemporary art in her
communities may recognize its’ importance.
Leah Fontaine, an artist based out of Winnipeg, also references spirituality in
her work, and utilizes art for community development purposes. She has worked on
a variety of projects that promote mental health awareness, suicide prevention,
and women’s rights. Fontaine explores cultural ritual, and how we connect with
our natural environment. Fontaine sights residential school as one of the causes
for the lost connection with nature, as well as technological progress. In the
mixed media series Elements (2004), she digitally merges photographs taken from
a “ceremonial environment” with imagery from nature to represent the four
elements. She ironically utilizes computer technology, something that has
removed us from nature, to reconnect with land and spirit.
Fontaine suggests that she is “a walking political statement in two categories.
First, I am a First Nations person and secondly, I am a woman. This to most
could be two strikes, but I look at it as two pulses.” Since the early 80s,
artists like Robert Houle, Edward Poitras, and Joane Cardinal Schubert continued
with the momentum initiated by the Woodland School artists, and made artwork
that put a spotlight on the impact of colonization. However, theirs was not as
subtle as the work Odjig, Janvier, and Morrisseau made that reflected
post-contact history. Creating work that makes strong cultural and political
statements, these artists and their peers blazed their own trails for artists to
gain access to fine arts training, funding bodies and art galleries. In a
contemporary artistic milieu, art that reflects cultural and political concerns
is considered the accepted norm.
Fontaine’s piece Five Bucks, Five Bucks, Five Bucks, Five Bucks (2004) overtly
exemplifies her political consciousness. Treaty cards are an annoyance that
drastically altered the existence of many Aboriginal communities. They carry
stigmas of being wards of the state, or misunderstood to be a privilege – some
lottery win for access to “government hand-outs”. Fontaine, tired of enduring a
government that feels free to label, created her own version of treaty cards for
Euro-Canadians. With a wry sense of humour, she bestows the honour of a treaty
card upon non-aboriginal viewers, showing them how it feels to be labeled.
Fontaines’ work, whether it reflects her political consciousness or not,
exemplifies the impacts made by Woodland School artists and those who began
creating very politically charged artwork in the early 80s.
Winnipeg based artist Kale Bonham, a recent BFA graduate from the University of
Manitoba, has felt the pressure to paint in the Woodland style, and create art
that is overtly politically-charged. At this point, she is interested in
neither. Bonham paints twisted narratives with cartoon-like animals and women’s
faces that are reminiscent of characters one might find in an animated film. She
asserts, “My ‘Aboriginal-ness’ is not the focus of who I am as an artist. In the
past I felt pressure to address my ‘Aboriginal-ness’ in my artwork so I made an
effort to.”
An example is The Tortoise and the Hair. Against a ready-made background a
feather wearing turtle wearily jumps rope. Two possibly intoxicated bunnies hold
the ends of the rope gleefully enjoying their role of making the turtle jump.
This piece convincingly exposes the pressure to role-play –to be at the mercy of
others when deciding what to create. It seeps frustration about cultural
stereotypes and artistic expectations. Bonham, who has moved away from allowing
cultural pressure to dictate her work, states, “I don’t make that effort
anymore. I think that side will come out by itself, whether consciously or not.”
Winnipeg artist KC Adams can relate to Bonham in feeling pressure to create
culturally themed artwork. Adams works with a wide range of mediums, including
photography, installation, and performance. While studying fine arts, Adams
“faced stereotypes from both students and teachers, many of whom viewed me
either as the romantic Indian Princess or the mythical Noble Savage. Not only
was I considered an exotic beauty; I was elevated to a sphere of goodness and
believed to be possessed of a spiritual connection to the land, and my work was
often subjected to these romantic stereotypes during critiques.” At the
beginning of her professional career, Adams also endured assumptions that she
was an authority on Aboriginal issues, and pressure to create artwork with
Aboriginal content. Despite this, Adams refused to conform.
It’s only been in the last few years that Adam has chosen to explore her
cultural identity on her own accord. Cyborg Hybrids (2003-2006) is a photo
series that challenges stereotypical views towards mixed race categorization,
examines the relationship between nature and technology, and explores concepts
of identity and community. Adams presents artists of Aboriginal and European
ancestry that are forward thinkers and plugged in with technology. They are
wearing beaded slogans on white t-shirts illustrating common Aboriginal
stereotypes, such as “Authority on all Aboriginal Issues”, or “Dirty Little
Indian”. The defiant expressions of the artists in the air-brushed glamour shots
challenge viewers to culturally locate them. These artists do not allow the
slogans on their t-shirts to define them, and their captured strength exposes
the absurdity of common stereotypes. Adams successfully challenges the
stereotypes that Woodland School Artists first endured and that have continued
for those who came after. Cyborg Hybrids becomes an opportunity for contemporary
artists to address them, and move forward without them impacting their art or
everyday lives.
When Goyce Kakegamic asserted in the late 1970s that he was an “artist who
happened to be Indian”, instead of an “Indian artist”, he was defying the box
artists with Aboriginal ancestry were put into, and foreshadowing future
struggles for artists to come. Kakegamic reacted to peoples’ romantic ideas of
him as an artist, while trying to be recognized as a contemporary artist.
Artists like Benn, Madelaine, Fontaine, Bonham and Adams still navigate within
and around these definitions, which can impact their art, and viewer reactions.
This is not to say however, that any categorizing or connecting to their culture
is viewed as restrictive. All five artists affirm that they are artists first
who happen to be Aboriginal. Their cultures impact their work whether it is
about the loss of connection to nature, feelings of isolation, the impact of
government policies, or stereotypes about Aboriginal art. Their work and
experiences affirms that culture is inherent within us, and can be shaped in a
variety of ways.
Although responses to Woodland School Art has dictated to an extent how they are
perceived, the strong legacy left by this movement, has given artists many
opportunities they would otherwise not have had. As Joane Cardinal- Schubert
asserts, “Aboriginal artists in this country, in particular, have been the first
liners; their hard work and dedication and commitment have made a difference.
They have carried the voices of the ancestors forward, acknowledging and
demonstrating a cultural continuum, unknown to others, that is not ‘lost’.” Some
struggles continue, but new ways to face them are constantly found, making the
road ahead layered with new awareness, and privilege to create, and the freedom
to be artists who happen to be Aboriginal.
- Cathy Mattes
Missing Cathy Bio
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