A pomegranate, some books, plants and a kiln. On their own, these images may not speak to the inspiring legacy of women’s stories. However, in the hands of the youth leaders from the YWCA Hamilton and Workers’ Arts and Heritage Centre Youth Councils, items such as these have been transformed into powerful symbols within beautiful collages.
This artwork currently hangs at WAHC’s community gallery in an exhibition entitled Portraits of Gratitude: Women+’s History; Women+’s Future. All the pieces came out of a two-hour collage workshop led by Hamilton artist Stylo Starr for the youth council members, all of whom are between 16 and 29 years old.
[spacer height="20px"]The individuals behind these pieces are not necessarily artists by trade, but were passionate about telling stories of woman-identified individuals’ power and leadership. The idea came out of a conversation held during the YWCA Youth Council’s summer book club wherein they were reading Elizabeth Renzetti’s Shrewed.
“[T]here's a chapter in the book that discusses the relationship between Mary Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft and we were remarking on how interesting it was that both of these women eventually got such recognition for their work and about how women's stories and history are often absorbed by their husbands,” explained Daniela Giulietti, the coordinator for the YWCA Youth Advisory Council.
Giulietti approached WAHC with the idea of creating an exhibition to combat this erasure and bring women’s stories to the forefront. This brought the WAHC Youth Council on board and the group decided to hold the exhibit at the WAHC, a massive two storey historic house on 51 Stuart Street.
October is Women’s History Month in Canada and this year’s theme has been designated with the #MakeAnImpact hashtag. The government has set up Women of Impact in Canada, an online gallery celebrating the achievements of remarkable women.
In the same vein, the collage workshop that produced the exhibition’s pieces began with the participants reflecting on women who inspire them. Some of these women were activists, authors and pop culture figures. Notable figures such as Toni Morrison and Beyoncé were highlighted in the pieces.
[spacer height="20px"]However, many were women that would not be found in national collections: mothers, sisters, grandmothers, aunts and friends. Hitoko Okada, a textile artist and Interim Programs Coordinator for the WAHC Youth Council, shared how her grandmother inspires her at this time in her life.
“[W]hen I'm weaving and sewing, I really feel like she is coming through and…even teaching my small movements of the hand…I just feel like that she's really with me and guiding me and encouraging me to connect to my ancestry through craft,” explained Okada.
“I feel like that's a knowledge that was transmitted to me through this…indirect way but it's a hand movement and a practice that…most of the women in our family have shared.”
The influence of family comes through in many of the collages. Several invoke domestic imagery and contain allusions to women relatives. One piece has clippings of a farm that reminded the artist of her grandmother’s farm where she grew up. Another seems to spell out Mom.
It is special that this exhibition provides a place for the stories of women that figure most prominently in our personal histories. In this time where the experiences of women are continuously being cast aside, it is empowering to have a space wherein the narratives of women are valued.
“[T]he timing ended up being really important because this was…when a lot of anti-survivor narratives were present in the media around the Brent Kavanaugh confirmation…[I]t felt for me like the space created was almost a really nice relief. You can see that in some of the pieces where there's survivors and I believe survivors, we believe survivors,” said Jordyn Perreault-Laird, a member of the YWCA Youth Council and Outreach and Partnerships Coordinator at WAHC.
The exhibition will culminate with a closing reception on Oct. 26, during which there will be a screening of the film, Bread and Roses. The film is inspired by the Justice for Janitors movement and tells the story of the janitorial strike in Los Angeles by undocumented immigrants and led by women.
The film sheds light on history that is often obscured by louder male narratives. It also demonstrates the power of young women and marginalized people to change their world. Creating space for the lesser known stories of women was one of the main goals of the exhibition as a whole. Reflecting on the success of the exhibit, Okada summed up the gravity of this impact.
“It really makes me think about the power of an image and the image of a woman in leadership. It speaks volumes. It's really so powerful…[it] gives me chills.”
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Hamilton singer-songwriter Shanika Maria knows how to make a presence. In a t-shirt from Hamilton-based brand Girls with Guns and shoes that she bought ten years ago and thought she outgrew she describes herself as all over the place but it’s these items, memories and influences that she funnels gracefully into her music.
In the summer of 2017, Maria released her debut EP, Childish Games. The five-song record is soft and acoustic, with Maria’s haunting voice singing lyrics that could be interpreted in a million ways. It’s a snapshot of where her abilities and creativity were at the time.
“Mouth Eaters” is the last track off the EP, it started off as a poem and then became part of her debut project. It was reworked and re-released on Sept. 28, 2018. Maria celebrated the release with a performance at the Mule Spinner the following day.
[spacer height="20px"]The reworked track is more upbeat than the original and includes collaborations from several people in Maria’s musical circle. It introduced new instruments and production that lend the familiar lyrics a brand new meaning. Maria has always supported the idea of her art being read in many different ways.
“I don't think it's…fair for me to tell anybody how to interpret what I've created. I feel like once I created it, I put it out there. It's now for the audience to interpret in whatever way they feel fit. I feel that's art in general…We all have our own lives and that's how we're going to come to art,” Maria said.
The single is the first off her upcoming album, Subtle Uncertainties. Like her EP, it is a picture of where she is in her life right now and describes her outlook on life. Currently in her mid-twenties, she is facing a version of adulthood where not everything is figured out.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BoMszE1BYBy/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet
[spacer height="20px"]Maria isn’t pursuing music full-time and while she is balancing other work and jobs, she believes that where she stands right now is what’s best for her at this time. She is not yet sure if she’d like to do music full-time but that is something she’ll have to navigate when the opportunity arises.
“As I've become older and as I've navigated everything, things are really uncertain, things are really ambiguous. The things I thought I wanted, I don't know if I want them… Life is very uncertain, and everything is uncertain and I don't think that that's a bad thing,” explained Maria.
Maria meets that uncertainty with the support of good people, from her family and friends to her mentor Kojo Easy Damptey and her label Celestial Voodoo. Damptey took her under his wing and helped to bring about the recording and release of her EP. Maria loves that she is part of an artist-run and collaborative label.
[spacer height="20px"]The good people that she has found in the music industry let her know that her contribution has value. Breaking into music, she faced the challenge of having to interact with people who based her worth as a performer on her ability to bring in audiences.
Genuine connections with artists and listeners helped her to overcome doubts that her work lacked value. These connections are also what she loves about performing in Hamilton.
“I have community here and I feel like people are being pretty receptive to what I've been doing so that's always a nice feeling…And I also just really like performing with other people…Live performance really gives an emotional and intimate look into their creativity,” explained Maria.
Maria’s creativity takes multiple forms. She writes fiction and poetry in addition to creating music. In the same vein, she takes inspiration from several forms of art other than music, from film to poetry to books.
She is looking forward to the newness that comes with putting out a fresh batch of music. She’s tried new things on the guitar and is excited about the new sound and vibe on her new album. Her excitement is accompanied by some fear, however, because life after all is uncertain.
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By Adrienne Klein
The Shifting Ground Lines: Shifting Pluralist Perspectives exhibition explores how cultural backgrounds influence their view of landscapes and use of land through framed depictions of Canadian landscapes, from Carl Ray’s Medicine Bear to Lawren Harris’ Lake and Mountains, hanging on the crisp black walls of the main floor of L.R. Wilson.
[spacer height="20px"]Shifting Ground Lines: Shifting Pluralist Perspectives is an exhibition curated by Brandon Coombs and a production team consisting of Beatrice Hammond, Sienna Suji Kim, Kyle Wyndham-West and Jennifer Yacula of McMaster University. It is composed of twelve photo reproductions of artistic Canadian landscapes and is part of the Socrates Project at McMaster University, which aims to shed light on pressing issues through interdisciplinary approaches.
[spacer height="20px"]The exhibition was originally conceived as part of a project for Art History 4X03 administered by Angela Sheng, an associate professor in the Art History department, where students were tasked with curating a visual exhibit. Beatrice Hammond, who is a fifth-year art history and English major, explained that her group decided to do their project on Canadian landscapes because they wanted to challenge and question popular ideas surrounding the meaning of Canadian art.
“When people think of Canadian landscape their mind automatically goes to the Group of Seven. That’s what we were taught in elementary school. Go to the art gallery, see the Group of Seven, learn it, but we don’t usually get to see that that’s not the only landscape,” explained Hammond.
“That’s not the only representation of landscape or Canadian landscape and there’s so many different representations. [W]e really wanted to shift the narrative… we’re shifting the notion of what is the conventional landscape and shifting away from the settler, colonial ideas of art and…what is beauty and what is landscape.”
The director of the Socrates project, Rina Fraticelli, trusted these students to make the entire exhibit a reality. They were given the upmost independence in the curation process. They picked pieces to include, framed the artwork by hand, marketed the project and were involved in every details from inception of the project to the closing reception.
“There were a lot of components to this and I learned so much about the professional art world through this experience. It was crazy learning how museums and galleries work and how to communicate with them and get results. Like how to get people to give you photo reproductions, how to get them to ship them to you, you know, just working with people,” said Hammond.
[spacer height="20px"]The reception for the exhibit has received a positive response thus far. On Sept. 26, Coombs gave a curatorial talk where he discussed the way that we create artificial boundaries in various areas of society and Hammond enjoyed watching everyone admire the pieces through that lens.
“[We] had Coombs talk about how the art relates to space and how we create artificial boundaries through our provinces and territory lines and how some spaces are delegated to some people while others aren’t so that was kind of cool watching people view the artwork while keeping that in mind,” explained Hammond.
Only a few of pieces from their original virtual exhibition were able to be secured, but the intent remained the same; to have equal representation for Indigenous and non-Indigenous art. The entire process shows the value of experiential education both for people leading the project and those able to appreciate the end results.
The exhibit can be viewed in L.R. Wilson up until Oct. 19, when there will be a final reception for the exhibit. People will have the opportunity to hear from the students who put the exhibit together and discuss it with them.
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By Drew Simpson
The museum is still and rested thirty minutes after opening at 11 a.m. Light grey undertones of the tile, the walls and even the clear glass feed into this state. The only audible sounds are the receptionist chatting with the artist, Ursula Johnson.
Another glass door with grey undertones opens to Rheanne Chartrand, the museum curator. It is as if the grey cancels out the obnoxious glare of light the door would have produced. Chartrand motions towards the exhibit entrance.
[spacer height="20px"]At first sight, the exhibit seems simple. A side room leads into what feels like a room filled with statements. Baskets seemingly non-functional sit on metal shelving with tags attached. A database, a scanner and a pair of delicate white gloves demonstrate otherwise.
Exhibit attendees are encouraged to wear the gloves, choose a basket and scan the tag as a database educates them in seconds on what the artifact they are holding is. This one is a puppy holder.
The process of the gloves, scanning and reading the information resembles a museum’s archive room. As Chartrand mentions, Johnson points out the limitations of the database’s structure.
“A lot of cultural signifiers or references or terms and their use cannot fully be archived within that database. There’s also no space for a lot of community information or space for contested stories or histories related to that object,” explained Chartrand.
Leaving the Archive Room and entering the main room, black text describing the exhibit sits on a lamented white background stuck to the wall. The description of the exhibit entails three distinct spaces: The Archive Room, the Museological Grand Hall and the Performative Space.
[spacer height="20px"]The Museological Grand Hall holds empty exhibit glasses with white etchings on two sides, labeling the basketry. Johnson clarifies the archive room's parody permitting persons to touch the artifacts, yet the empty exhibit glasses do not allow people to touch anything even though the cases are empty.
Furthermore, the Museological Grand Hall reiterates the history of institutions bringing back artifacts from the Indigenous maker. Often times it is in awe of the spectacle without aiming to understand how the artifact was made.
Historically, many ‘artifacts’ have been mislabelled and misnamed. The etchings and labels pose as recipes and when coupled with the language they tell how each basket was made.
Paired with the Archive Room, the Museological Grand Hall also gambles the idea of who has the authority to name things and to describe their history. Mirroring Johnson’s sense of humour, the Archive Room does so with a comical twist.
If these neo-artifacts and their descriptions take their place in the chronological database, years later the discussion of pairing history to understand these artifacts will be comical to those aware of the satire.
[spacer height="20px"]Within the main room and behind a parting wall there is a long tool about three inches wide and three feet long, sitting on a couple of blonde plywood. It has a seat for the performer to sit and split the wood. There are wood shavings like locks of curly blonde hair scattered on the ground. Other smaller tools sit to the side.
The Performative Space is where Johnson performs traditional Mi’kmaw basket-making for the audience. However, she purposely produces unusable splints, as an opposition to set the Indian on display. The entire exhibit is a humorous yet challenging discursion concerning the institution's treatment of Indigenous material and linguistic culture.
The performance is loud. I helped lift the wood while two other persons scattered squares of mats underneath it. It is ironic that the performance is loud given how institutions like museums have set the Indigenous maker on display to perform their knowledge.
[spacer height="20px"]Except for this time, what is being performed is false knowledge, as Johnson purposely makes beginner mistakes when processing the wood, which also speaks to the disconnection between generations.
Ultimately, the three spaces combine to describe a long and large discussion around colonialism and the impact on Indigenous material and linguistic culture. Specifically, it challenges the museums. Certain museums still find this show controversial, although the exhibit has been touring for the past four years.
“All the institutions that have taken the show are always doing things to open up their collections. They are already doing things to break down the idea of the Indian on display. The institutions that don’t have those practices, that are mandated in their policies are the ones that are terrified of the show. They are the ones that can’t take it because it’s too risqué for them,” explained Johnson.
Ultimately hearing Johnson describes the deeper roots of the exhibit changed the visuals of the room. Mi’kwite’tmn (Do You Remember) takes a simple room and fills it with rich stories. These stories are finally told by the right person who simultaneously parodies that authority.
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In our latest issue, we caught up with some musicians, artists, designers, and chefs showing off their craft on the streets!
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As darkness claims the end of the first Wednesday of the month, Main Street East settles into a quiet rhythm against the background humming of nearby traffic. Red florescent lights spelling out ‘Sous Bas’ invite passersby down a flight of stairs and into the warm atmosphere of the candlelit space known for long nights of dancing.
At the far end of the room DJ Camron rehearses his set. The chanted vocals of Afrobeat mixed with funk and jazz tracks will catalyze carefree dance moves during Afrowave, but tonight’s unofficial audience is rather preoccupied with issues of National Geographic from the early 2000s, scissors and glue sticks.
Magazines and journals from the worlds of fashion, business, travel, lifestyle, art, music and photography are scattered along the bar’s island. A few comics, colouring pages and prints from the past can also be found among the dozens of publications that fill plastic storage bins on the ground.
Whether you came with a plan to spend the night collaging or stumbled in for a drink and decided to stay for the paper-based craft, Sous Bas owner Erika McMeekin and visual artist Stylo Starr have created the perfect environment to cut, paste and chill.
“It’s been a really great experience breaking down the stigma that collage is just a cut and paste kindergarten activity, it’s so much more…the major drive behind it was that we saw that there was a pull towards collage and the appeal was there but the response was always ‘oh I can’t do that, I’m not an artist’,” explained Starr.
When McMeekin was approached with the idea of hosting the Collage Coven’s Assemblage events at Sous Bas, she thought it was a perfect fit. The nightclub is not only a popular scene for a night out in Hamilton, it’s also deeply intertwined with the community by providing a welcoming space for meetings, R&B and disco pilates sessions and now an art space.
“People like to meet and drink but don’t really do anything… So I want to see what could happen [in spaces]… where you go hangout with your friends but also make something,” said Starr.
“I think that would be really beneficial because you’re being productive in a group and that group think and group creativity is actually really cool, the synergy that’s there is insane.”
Collage makers tap into their creativity in clusters around tables, in booths, on couches and even sitting cross-legged on the floor buried in paper. Some of the attendees at last Wednesday’s event include artists, friends collaging together for the first time and two DeGroote alumni, one of whom flew in from Ireland to celebrate his birthday and ended up catching up with his friend over beers and collages.
“I love being able to provide that space for people where they could just unleash their creativity. It’s a power that not a lot of people realize they have within themselves…when they say things like ‘I’m not creative’ it’s like shoving that down in a box and I’m here to rip that shit open and let them revel in it and see what comes out of it,” explained Starr.
Aside from being a form of creativity and self-expression, collaging is also therapeutic. Attendees can learn more about themselves and feel good through partaking in the activity. Many of Starr’s own pieces were created during emotional moments, helping her sort through her thoughts, like a visual diary.
Anyone can get started with collaging. Start by collecting images that catch your eye in magazines or digital media, rip, cut, clip words, graphics, photographs or even patterns. Starr encourages collecting anything that strikes you and putting it aside for when you desire to make art or try something new.
The Collage Coven’s monthly collage parties take place on the first Wednesday of the month from 7 to 10 pm at Sous Bas. The event is open to all, pay what you can and an abundance of materials are provided.
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Tell me a little bit about yourself.
I just graduated from McMaster with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Studio Art. I started in 2012 and had somewhat like a rough start; changed my mind, left, worked in between and then came back. It took me a while to figure out that Studio Art was the right progran for me but when I did I feel like it really paid off and shaped who I am today.
What is “I’m the Bomb”?
I created two, large scale banners that depict two women, one who wears the hijab or a veil and the other one does not. Both are wearing shades and they’re also wearing t-shirts that say “I’m the bomb” in the two pieces hanging beside one another. The piece kind of works on a few different levels. One of the most obvious levels is addressing our innate prejudice against certain groups of people and who is more privileged than others to wear or represent certain things or what kinds of stigma do we attach to certain groups of people versus others. It’s also a piece that, at least for me the way I view it, is empowering for the Muslim community. In the face of radical groups like ISIS today kind of making a claim for Islam and using the Muslim identity to do heinous acts, this is sort of to address,in an unapologetic way, that people have created this idea of who Muslims are based on falsehood. We can’t express ourselves in a way like that without certain questions being raised about whether or not we as just people are safe to be around. A lot of people took this piece in the opposite direction. It infuriated a lot of people and I was aware that it could possibly do that. I was aware that people might think it’s just recycling the image of violence back out there again. But I would claim maybe it could do that if the woman on the left was by herself. She’s not, she’s contrasted with another image, and in that conversation that happens between them is the point of the piece. The last level, at least based on the feedback that I got, was that a lot of people who identify as female are excited about how empowering it is. We don’t often get to say “I’m the bomb”, like I’m awesome, or wear shirts that say that. We often come across items of clothing that have different kinds of messages on them.
“This is sort of to address in an unapologetic way, that people have created this idea of who Muslims are based on falsehood We can’t express ourselves in a way like that without certain questions being raised.”
Can you tell me more about the feedback you received?
The first week that it was up, it went viral on social media and a lot of people thought that it was an advertisement on a subway done by H&M. So, in light of what H&M did in December, they took it as that. So some people got it, some people didn’t, but I was also aware of that when I made it. I knew what H&M had done and I knew that there was a possibility that people would take it that way and that’s okay, because it plays into the dialogue or the conversation surrounding the work. It’s upsetting that people didn’t dig a little deeper, didn’t try to figure out what it really was. Not for recognition or anything like that, but that it wasn’t an act of racism towards anybody and actually there’s a deeper message behind it. That was a tough weekend. I had a lot of hate mail but it was good overall.
Why did you choose to display this piece in the Student Centre?
For a while I had been creating work for gallery spaces and museums, and I actually struggled with getting people who were part of a community that didn’t interact with art to view the work. I was creating work for Muslims to view as well as other people and unfortunately, although there’s a move towards the arts in the Muslim community, most of the time the spaces, especially in Hamilton and the surrounding areas, are not occupied by people of color, let alone Muslims or religious people or people who like to create artwork about their religious identity. I knew that if I wanted to reach Muslims and talk about the things that address us and who we are and have that seen by everyone and not just Muslims, I had to bring it into a public space. I had never done anything on a public level before so I thought that since I had my graduating show happening at the McMaster Museum of Art that having it somewhere close by would be a good idea. I liked the idea of it being on display in the University specifically because it’s an institution of education, it’s a place where people are still shaping who they are. So it’s just a great opportunity to educate people in a place where they’re already learning.
“Community projects like this, where learning is happening outside of a classroom and you get to interact with it is a type of learning that’s more accessible...”
Why is this piece important to the McMaster community?
Other than the fact that there’s a big Muslim community at McMaster, I think that, at least from my time here, the arts program itself isn’t really known all that much. One thing that I find is really great about this piece is that if people get intrigued by it and dig a little deeper about where it came from they’ll discover the program. It’s good representation for something that brings a lot of experiential learning to the McMaster community and I think often gets overlooked. At the end of the day, you get a degree and you go to classes and stuff like that, but community projects like this, where learning is happening outside of a classroom and you get to interact with it is a type of learning that’s more accessible and it’s relatable to everybody. It’s that connection between the artist and the viewer that doesn’t necessarily happen in a classroom or a lecture setting for everybody because it just crosses that boundary and crosses hierarchies too. I’m not there when people are looking at the work. I’m not like some authoritative figure. So I’m able to just speak to people without having that baggage with me. It’s a form of experiential learning and I think McMaster can really benefit from having more of it outside of the McMaster Museum of Art. Not to say that what’s going on in the museum is an amazing, it is. But I’d like to see more artwork on campus because I feel like people enjoyed it.
She walked us through her vision for the brand, and showed us some of her favourite pieces.
You can read the full article here: https://www.thesil.ca/batik-boutik
This video uses these sounds from freesound:
SQ Never Satisfied Music by guru12192 (http://freesound.org/people/guru12192/)
Savanna Stomp Groove by jobro (http://freesound.org/people/jobro)
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Studio Arts student Dina Hamed was in her third year Practical Issues course when she was tasked with creating a proposal for an art installation around the theme of Canada’s 150th anniversary.
Hamed, who is Canadian born with Egyptian roots, saw similarities between the situation in Palestine and the conflict and trauma Indigenous people have faced, and continue to face in Canada.
“What does it mean to celebrate being Canadian? [I don’t think it’s] about whether it is okay or not okay to celebrate it. We don’t even know what we are celebrating, we don’t know our history, in my opinion, the question we should be asking is what happened in Canada?” explained Hamed.
Hamed reached out to the McMaster Indigenous Student Community Alliance (MISCA) to collaborate on a project as an ally of the Indigenous community. For the next year, Hamed worked with MISCA organizer, Gail Jamieson, and Honours Indigenous Studies student and artist, Evan Jamieson-Eckle, to curate the 150 Years of Resilience: An Untold History exhibit.
“For me personally, seeing people celebrate this country and then getting upset when other people can’t find something to celebrate in it, it hurts, but also there is a large, and very overwhelming presence of ignorance within Canada. [There is] very little effort… to educate people about these things through institutions,” explained Jamieson-Eckle.
“150 years of resilience, this project, is a humble and modest attempt to educate people about what happened, from 1867 up until now. That’s why I think it’s important,” added Hamed.
Despite the critical take, the proposal for the exhibit was met with support from the McMaster Mills Library and they commissioned the artists in November 2016. Unfortunately, there was still some backlash.
“When we won the proposal someone came up to me and said ‘oh working with Indigenous people, that was genius’… I got really upset… I told myself, this isn’t about making a spectacle of Indigenous people because it’s Canada’s 150th anniversary, this is about doing something substantial to bring awareness to something that disturbs me,” said Hamed.
Jamieson connected the two artists to Elders in the Six Nations of the Grand River reserve, where they got feedback on Jamieson-Eckle’s idea of weaving a contemporary Wampum belt. Jamieson designed the belt based on her research on the history of colonization from 1967 to present day, while Hamed weaved it.
The contemporary design references traditional Haudenosaunee Wampum belts, which were used as recorders of agreements, whereas the 150 Years of Resilience Wampum belt depicts Indigenous history, struggle and land loss.
Hamed learned the Indigenous skill of Wampum weaving and dedicated over 200 hours to weave Jamieson’s design. The belt is not perfect, and the beads don’t always line up straight, but it’s symbolic of her improving skills.
“They took pride in everything they did, even in creating these [Wampum belts] for their treaties, think about how much they cared about what was actually being recorded… it made me care about what we were doing so much more,” explained Hamed.
The Wampum is “read” using symbols that are made up of coloured beads woven through leather. Hamed used white beads to separate the Wampum by significant dates. Black beads were used to represent the last attempts to restore peace before conflicts. Satin finish purple beads depict the darkest days in Indigenous history, while metallic beads represent Indigenous acts of resilience.
The Wampum belt is accompanied by an online component curated by Jamieson-Eckle, called @Wampum150 on Facebook. Jamieson-Eckle had been posting historical photographs and accompanying stories since January leading up to the exhibit this week. The stories are used to accompany the symbolism of the belt.
“With government policies [there] is racism embedded in Canadian conscious… Everything that we are doing right now, people dragging their feet, it allows that perpetuation of racism to the next generation. That’s something we as Indigenous people are not too fond off – letting our problems go to the next generation.”
https://www.facebook.com/wampum150/
“This art installation presents [the injustices and trauma Indigenous people faced] in a way that’s an alternative to the protests but acknowledges all the things that have happened. It’s one step towards getting people to understand why Indigenous people and their allies are mad, way they are willing to block roads… why the Oka [Crisis] happened,” explained Jamieson-Eckle.
This project posed many challenges to Jamieson-Eckle and Hamed, who at times were overwhelmed by the emotional toll the project placed on them, but rather than quitting, they grew closer and supported one another throughout the process.
“One picture [in the exhibit] was of children dressed up in European style [outside of a residential school]… and they were holding big wooden letters spelling ‘goodbye’…They took their identities away… it was heart wrenching to see.”
“It’s hard for me to see why [people] are not angry about these issues and why they don’t want to make a difference, and you’ll have people who will come up to you and deny genocide, and deny that you have any right to speak up [about this], it hurts,” explained Jamieson-Eckle.
For Hamed and Jameison-Eckle, they want their McMaster community to know that the issues Indigenous people have faced in the recent past, are still very much going on today. The exhibit only scratches the surface, and history is still very much untold. Only when the past is confronted, can true reconciliation be achieved.
150 Years of Resilience: An Untold History is part of Making Connections Week and will be on display until October 6th, 2017 at the Dr. Robert and Andrée Rhéaume Fitzhenry Studios and Atrium in McMaster University. The exhibit also features the work of Indigenous artists Ric Langlois and Teyewennarakwas.
Making Connection week is an initiative by OPRIG McMaster. MISCA will be hosting several events Wednesday through Friday, including a Blanket Exercise, Cultural Gathering, and Indigenous Social Justice Forum.
Cha Nimke Nagwagin Kwe, also known as Jasmin Glaw, is an Indigenous artist and youth advocate working in the city of Hamilton. Most of Glaw’s design work centralizes around themes of identity, belonging and teachings of the strawberry, or heart berry, the plant representation of woman.
As a child, Glaw spent time between her home in Hamilton and her mother’s home community of Pikwàkanagàn First Nation. From an early age, Glaw was intrigued by the process of laying out designs and bringing them to life, altering thrift shop finds and restoring something old into something new.
As a member of a generation of children who were not raised on reserve, thus lacking exposure to traditional knowledge, Glaw was motivated to become the self-driven artist and advocate that she is today.
Today, Glaw uses her work as a platform for advocacy and education, creating pieces that hold traditional meaning and resonate with audiences of all backgrounds.
“When creating a design I really try to think about the purpose behind its creation. Much like the rest of the population, I seek purpose in myself, my work and my relationships,” said Glaw.
“How will this piece convey purpose? With this active application of mindfulness, I try to connect my pieces to the world we live in and challenges that we face every day.”
“When creating a design I really try to think about the purpose behind its creation. Much like the rest of the population, I seek purpose in myself, my work, and my relationships,"
Jasmin Glaw
Indigenous artist
This past Supercrawl, Glaw designed the “Missing Heart Berry,” a textile design/artistic advocacy piece that uses Traditional Jingle Dress Regalia in order to create a platform for awareness of the current crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada.
The strawberry, or heart berry, serves as the plant representation of a woman. Similar to the plant, women create life, unapologetically hold a host of emotions, model the ability to forgive and stands as a symbol of reconciliation. As this piece was created for women, Glaw thought it to be appropriate to acknowledge the strawberry.
The design also attributes similarities to the red coat worn by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The long history of colonialism, oppression, discrimination and assimilation of Indigenous people, enforced by the RCMP, proved to be a fitting factor as to why the dress mocks the red coat. This aspect of the design is meant to represent the abuse of power and lack of support that has been demonstrated by the Canadian government.
Glaw stresses that there have been some respectful allies within the RCMP and Canadian government who seek to support the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, but still believes there is a steep mountain to climb.
“Since I dreamt of this piece, it has been my hope that it would impress the importance of a well-intentioned national inquiry so that the families of the [Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada] are met with peace and that the spirits of their lost ones are no longer wandering, but rather found and guided to the Creator,” said Glaw.
Glaw often finds herself turning to art or design to decompress or to find peace of mind. Basic design practices, including beading, helps Glaw to clear the mind of obstacles faced and to make space for creative exploration within herself.
Using creative freedom to craft projects with meaning and purpose, one of Glaw’s hopes is to help promote reconciliation and create unique opportunities for learning more about Indigenous people in Canada.
“The Missing Heart Berry project’s purpose was to bring awareness to the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (#MMIWG) in Canada,” said Glaw. “This issue is something that has been affecting our communities for years, but somehow hasn’t resonated with the rest of Canada. Therefore, by giving a design purpose I can use it as a vehicle for sharing a message or for promoting awareness around a certain topic.”
Established in early 2017 by Glaw and Jessica Lea Fleming, The Sweetgrass Sisters Collective seeks to empower and strengthen the local Indigenous community via traditional and contemporary programming, networking and performance opportunities.
One of the major goals for the collective is to preserve knowledge and culture with three guiding, interwoven pieces.
Another major goal is to connect Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities in order to create space for dialogue surrounding key issues, including Indigenous representation in the media, access to cultural opportunities outside of the GTA and to create a cross cultural platform for community players to learn and share from one another.
With support from the Ontario Arts Council and the City of Hamilton Canada 150 Fund, the first organized event for The Sweetgrass Sisters Collective entitled Howling Moons: A Celebration of Indigenous Performance and Culture takes place Sept. 30 at the Art Gallery of Hamilton and Hamilton Conservatory for the Arts.
Daytime programming will take place at the Fischer Gallery at the AGH and will feature teachings from local Knowledge Keepers and Hoop Dance performers in addition to a talking circle with award winning dancer Nimkii Osawamick from Wiikwemkoong Unceded Territory.
Evening programming will follow at the HCA Recital Hall. The event will be hosted by Jessie Goyette (Algonquin/Métis) and will feature live performances by hip hop artist chllly (Mohawk / Jamaican) and celebrated headliner, Iskwé (Cree / Dené / Irish). The evening will conclude with a one-hour set by DJ Ariel (Blackfoot/Cree/Ojibway).
Following Howling Moons, Glaw also plans to delve further into leatherwork to incorporate into her designs.
Glaw’s work ultimately encompasses teaching and advocacy into traditional Indigenous designs and pave the way towards her long term goals, which include to help motivate and encourage Indigenous youth to invest more time in learning about culture and language, to empower mixed-race Indigenous peoples to stand proud of their identity and to seek more strawberry teachings from her elders to apply to future design work.
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