NET ETH Going out of the Darkness by Blue Sturgeon Publishing Services

NET-ETH Going out of the Darkness

An Exhibition of First Nations Artists Residential School Survivors and their Descendants

NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness an art exhibition catalogue by

Rose M. Spahan and Tarah Hogue

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication NET-ETH : going out of the darkness : an art exhibition catalogue by Rose M. Spahan and Tarah Hogue. Catalogue of an exhibition that spans three venues: Concourse Gallery, Emily Carr University of Art + Design ; Malaspina’s studio gallery ; the Urban Aboriginal Fair Trade Gallery at Skwachàys Healing Lodge from September 13 - 30, 2013. ISBN 978-0-9692998-5-1 (pbk.) 1. Native art--Canada--Exhibitions. 2. Art, Canadian--21st century-Exhibitions. I. Spahan, Rose M., 1962-, author of added commentary II. Hogue, Tarah, 1986-, author of added commentary III. Malaspina Printmakers Society, issuing body N6549.5.A54N48 2013

704.03’9707107471133

C2013-905367-0

COPYRIGHT Publication ©2013 Malaspina Printmakers Society (www.malaspinaprintmakers.com) Artwork ©2013 the artists Individual Texts ©2013 the authors 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. Contact: 1555 Duranleau Street, Vancouver BC, Canada, V6H 3S3 (604) 688-1724 info@malaspinaprintmakers.com

Catalogue Design by Florene Belmore and Randall Gray Photography by Randall Gray except where noted Printed and bound in Canada: Friesens Front cover image: Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun, Residential School Dirty Laundry detail (2013) Back cover image: Adrian Stimson, Aggressive Assimilation (2013) Body type: Myriad Pro Light and Light Italic

CONTENTS

Introduction / 5 by Rose M. Spahan Two poems / 9, 77 by Dennis Saddleman NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness / 11 Curatorial statements by Lara Evans, Tarah Hogue and Rose M. Spahan Works from the NET-ETH Exhibition / 21 List of Works / 70 Healing from the Residential School Experience / 73 by Maxine Thomas Pape A Shared and Difficult History / 78 by Tarah Hogue Timing is Everything / 92 by Marie Price Biographies / 94 Acknowledgements / 96 by Justin Muir

INTRODUCTION: by Rose M. Spahan “NET-ULH: Going out of the Darkness, at first daylight, when you pray and cleanse your tools to make them strong. Listen, we must listen, an important process of opening up to the light, opening up to intergenerational trauma so we all heal together.” —Ti Te-In, Shane Point Siem, Musqueam Elder

As a First Nations curator I came to this Residential School exhibition by way of Kim Cameron, a community supporter of the arts who knew of me through the various exhibitions that I have coordinated in the past including SMASH: International Indigenous Weaving and The Magic Flute Through the Arts, for which I acted as First Nations curator and First Nations liaison to the Vancouver Opera’s production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Kim Cameron referred me to the Executive Director of Malaspina Printmakers Society, Justin Muir, and Marie Price, Malaspina’s past President, to organize this exhibition and to support my efforts in adhering to the proper protocols and cultural sensitivity this exhibition demands.

For this important project I teamed up with co-curator Tarah Hogue and writers Lara Evans and Maxine Pape and many other talented individuals from Malaspina Printmakers, Emily Carr University of Art + Design and Skwachàys Healing Lodge, venues where this large exhibition opened on September 13th, 2013. The date is significant as the exhibition was timed to coincide with Reconciliation Week events in Vancouver that were initiated by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.

This exhibition is about various artistsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; viewpoints and reflections on Residential School experiences. It promotes Canadian and First Nations healing and understanding, and shares the visual work of survivors from a multi-generational perspective.

At first this topicâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Indian Residential Schoolsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;gives pause, and then it becomes a compelling experience to engage in. All the initiators of this exhibition knew how sensitive the subject matter could be but also how important it is to support the survivors and to show the truth of the Indian Residential School experience. The important objective of this show is to communicate to the viewers and public the history of Residential Schools and through this process provide an opportunity for reconciliation and healing. Although the healing process may not always be evident, for many of the artists it exists simply in the process of creating the work. I often felt as though the artists were expelling their pain through their imagery.

The Indian Residential Schools resonate as the longest, darkest secret period of Canadian history. We learn about it from our elders, community service programs and Canadian archival documents. Before the children were taken from their homes to attend Residential Schools they had a role in their families and communities. They came back broken and this left huge gaps in their families, their communities and in the lives of the individuals themselves. This breakdown of individuals, families and communities led directly to the problems that First Nations people face today. How would our lives have been different had the Residential Schools not existed?

Those who attended the Residential Schools all go through various grieving stages; the anger and emotions of loss that result from this grieving can be frightening in their intensity. The stages of grief and loss are represented in this exhibition and begin to shine a light on issues of drug and alcohol abuse, suicide and mental illness. The stereotypes about Native people and the stigma of the ‘Indian Problem’ have emerged from people who do not really understand the conditioning that went on in Residential Schools. I want to provide an explanation—not only for myself, but also to the bigger picture.

We all have expectations of what First Nations art should be but for the NET-ETH exhibition we were very careful to not ‘censor’ the selection of works in this exhibition. We have tried to allow the exhibition to develop organically because the works evolve out of the need to be here. Inclusiveness to all voices, young, old, Native and non-Native has been taken into consideration to have a broad scope in order to create a greater understanding of the resilience and survival of First Nations people. The work shows blatant truths of the Residential School experience: the rapes, the sodomy, the deaths, sadness, loneliness, loss and raw emotions. However, this is not an exhibition that capitalizes on voyeurism but rather revelation.

Every Aboriginal participant has drawn on his or her ancestral teachings to enter into this pool of historical experience. We enter the darkness, examine our part of history and return with some healing from our involvement in this experience. NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness expresses the artists’ truths as they exist with an eye to including the profound experience; things start to make sense: the purging of emotion and bringing of hurt to the surface helps to move it out—that’s why things are the way they are.

A need for understanding, patience and care has been paramount to developing NET-ETH. I have to admit that this process was challenging and brought me to places I was not ready for because of the raw, hard emotions that surfaced. This is what made working on this exhibition so challenging and rewarding at the same time. I went through my own healing process around the exhibitionâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;much needed silence and time for crying and reflection was mandatory. I spent many hours listening to artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s memories and secrets with a heavy heart and deep sighs. I went to dark places myself. I realized my own connection to the Residential School experience by recognizing my fatherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s conditioning from his experience of Residential School. A ritual of cleansing helped me to realize the importance of prayer. I have also come to understand that we are only at the beginning stages of reconciliation and healing and that there is so much work still needed to be done on this topic.

Most of the students of the earliest Residential Schools, our elders, are now dead. However, the legacy of their Residential School experience has become part of the lives of their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The significance of this project is that the Residential School experience of our elders will be heard through the art of their descendants.

I have learned much about the resilience of my people and the depth of our strength and courage. These artists, in the struggles they face in their lives, will reveal a healing path through their art. This vision is what we search for.

I still have dreams about the Residential School even though it’s been 50 years. I slept I dreamt Memories become unburied and it’s covered with cobwebs In my dream I saw a small child in a small bed The child hid beneath the blanket There are sounds Ghostly sounds A door slams and an echo was heard Footsteps kept rhythm with hollow echoes Rosary beads rattled in the darkness The dreamer’s body twitched Then there’s silence....silence An odor came The place smelled like mothballs and it smelled like disinfectant The door slammed again The child’s body jerked and the child listened Footsteps kept rhythm with echoes The echoing footsteps came closer and closer and closer My eyes snapped open I’m breathing erratically I’m wide awake.... Dennis Saddleman from With a Pencil I Went Across a Page to Find Myself (2010)

Curatorial statements: by Lara Evans, Tarah Hogue and Rose M. Spahan The NET-ETH exhibition sets out to participate in a journey of healing both for the artists involved and for the general public. NET-ETH is thus connected to the larger discussion generated by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Final Dialogues taking place in Vancouver concurrently. In the following, curators Tarah Hogue and Rose Spahan along with guest-writer Lara Evans respond to the exhibition’s focus on healing and other questions and issues raised by the artists.

Lara Evans: Setting out to make artworks about Indian Residential Schools is a risky endeavour. It is an emotional subject and a political subject. Each artist took risks in creating this work. I will be blunt about this—taking a risk means potentially causing harm. This means the artist could find creating the work traumatic, rather than healing, although the work may be successful in evoking healing for viewers. Or a piece may be cathartic for an artist and yet does not provide a similar effect for viewers. NET-ETH requires the artists to risk themselves, and they undertook those risks. As a whole, we might be able to say the exhibition creates a start to a healing process. The artists’ willingness to take on the painful subject provides a visible process for our own examination of history and its role in creating our present circumstances.

Lindsay Delaronde, Chris Bose, Jada-Gabrielle Pape, and Tania Willard appropriate (or re-appropriate) photographs of IRS students and sites to form their critiques. Chris Bose uses photographic images to create a montage of overlapping images. His series of works brings together images symbolic of Canadian nationalism, ironic juxtapositions and reverse-images to address the complex ways in which

dealing with the issues of the Indian Residential School system requires reconsideration of the ways in which nationalism creates a blindness to horrific and inhuman conditions within large institutions. Speaking out about what goes wrong within institutional policy and institutional practice is crucial to the prevention of future abuses.

Chris Bose, The Only Good Indian... (2013)

The ways in which the artists deal with the subject of Residential Schools works toward building new cultural responses, turning outward and inward at the same time, and crosses cultural boundaries between First Nations communities and settler communities. Historic photographs are a component of shared cultural practices, and each of these artists bring additional materials and symbolic references that communicate in locally specific modes.

Many of the works in this exhibition are extremely disturbing: Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun’s Residential School Dirty Laundry (2013) addresses forced religious conversion and child sexual abuse within the religious mileu.

Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun, Residential School Dirty Laundry detail (2013)

The beautifully crafted cloth forms at the base of Richard Heikkilä-Sawan’s Nasty Habit (2013) only becomes viscerally disturbing upon close inspection, when the cloth forms are discerned as representations of the legs of infants crushed beneath a bentwood box which has also been broken by the weight of the blackrobed figure standing atop them.

Aesthetics aside, some of the works have a brutality that strikes the viewer immediately or a brutality that slowly sinks in with close examination. Indeed, without that brutality, the works that deal so explicitly

Richard Heikkilä-Sawan, Nasty Habit detail (2013)

with the abuse of children could run the risk of glamorizing pedophilia and child abuse. How is it possible to make works that make us look and think and feel in a productive manner about such a subject? When we view these works, how is our participation evoked? Are we serving as witness? Identifying with the victim? Perhaps some of these works permit us, the viewers, to acknowledge the ways in which we might have participated in the silencing of others’ pain and maybe the silencing of our own?

Some of the works are immediately shocking, like Ken Faris’ darkly disturbing paintings and Yuxweluptun’s installation. Others, like Bracken Hanuse Corlett, Mimi Gellman, Raven John and Lou-ann Ika’wega Neel, use symbolism to bring strands of meaning together in complex ways that entice the viewer into working out the meanings of the pieces. In other words, a viewer only understands the piece at a level at which they are willing to personally work to discover.

The artists risk themselves politically, emotionally and artistically. Is it healing for them to do so? Is it healing for the public? I’m not an expert on healing but figuring out what is wrong is the first step. This exhibition is bringing to the personal and public eye something that is an illness in need of healing. I don’t see the healing as the responsibility of the artists who have risked themselves in this endeavour. They cannot do it alone. There is a role for everyone in stopping harm and creating the conditions for healing. Everyone who has participated in NET-ETH has been involved in creating conditions for healing to take place.

Tarah Hogue: In my mind, the artworks in the exhibition are a form of testimony. The artists are testifying to the trauma they have witnessed as a result of Indian Residential Schools, whether it is as a survivor or their descendants. Residential Schools have participated in shaping the current socioeconomic and cultural conditions that face Indigenous people in Canada and have affected relations with the broader Canadian populace (in a variety of ways)—and in this way have impacted all of us. Non-Indigenous people coming to the exhibition have an opportunity to witness the testimony of the participating artists and, as witnesses, are implicated in the broader narrative. One of the greatest challenges to healing from the Residential School experience is a lack of knowledge and dialogue around the conditions and ideology that led to the Residential School system. Such a discussion necessitates a level of reflexivity about one’s own values and prejudices. It is our hope that the exhibition engenders this process and in this way can bring people closer together through greater understanding.

In Tania Willard’s The Protectors You Never Had (2013), the artist uses the immense popularity of hockey in Canada to speak to the experience of children in Indian Residential Schools in a manner that is both highly approachable and nuanced in its complexity. In a child’s eyes, a hockey player is a superhero. They are role models in their communities and a great deal of national pride is placed upon their shoulders. It is a simple fact that a child without someone to look up to and to guide them is a child lost. Willard’s 'goalie spirits' are a means of addressing the lack of guidance and moreover, the lack of protection that children under the IRS system were subjected to. It honours the memory of those who did not make it through the experience as well as the resilience and strength of those that did. The work, however, also points to a potentially positive experience of Residential School. Hockey practice could be a time of escape from a strictly regimented schedule—a time for play and camaraderie. In this way, Willard’s goalie spirits allow for both light and dark in the Residential School experience and gives viewers the opportunity to connect with the work on multiple levels.

Tania Willard, The Protectors You Never Had detail (2013)

Adrian Stimson’s Aggressive Assimilation (2013) references the government policy that shaped both he and his father’s experience of Residential School. The photographs of Adrian Jr. and Adrian Sr. are disarming as a younger Adrian Jr. hides his smile, looking up and away from the camera with playful shyness, while Adrian Sr., a young man in a white cowboy hat, takes a sidelong glace into the lens. The building that separates these photos in the visual field, the Old Sun Residential School, can be seen as the separation of parent and child that so many experienced, a separation from their culture, their language, and the love of their community. Adrian describes the process of making this work as 'exorcising' his and his father’s shared history of Residential School despite never being able to fully escape it. In this way, his work comments on the process of healing rather than framing healing as an end in itself. We must live with and inhabit the dark history of Residential Schools in order to move forward.

Rose Spahan: This exhibition is so engaging because it is inclusive to both emerging artists from the Downtown Eastside and established artists from the larger art community in Vancouver and the province. I had the opportunity to sit with many of the artists and discuss the process, thoughts and stories behind their works.

Jerry Whitehead’s Twelve Merry Steps (2005) blatantly describes his drinking days and his feeling of being “fragmented, blurred and slurred”. These works are rich in colour as in the Pow Wow dancing figures he is known for but the style is looser, with broken strokes that are reminiscent of a impressionist painting filled with emotion. He sighed a deep sigh and remembered an experience he had in Residential School and

I could tell that in his thoughts he returned to some unpleasant moments and remembered the crying children and the sadness and loneliness he had felt back then. He told me a story about how working in the kitchen was an opportunity to get some food for the kids at night. When the priest and nuns were asleep he would share what leftover food they had from the day’s work in the kitchen: “We smuggled food out in slop buckets, it was a team effort. One would take food from the kitchen, then remove the food in buckets to a hiding place and someone would pick it up for us to have later.”

Wayne Dennis is a quiet soft-spoken man from Huu-ay-aht who went to the Residential School in Port Alberni. He says he doesn’t speak his language because it was forbidden at those schools. He carves talking sticks in the tradition of his father, who taught him to carve when he was young. His grandmother was also a carver and weaver in her day—his proud smile when he talks of them is full of honour, love and respect. While he carves he sits and thinks of his ancestors.

Visiting with Jada-Gabrielle Pape at her lovely garden studio in Vancouver, I had the opportunity to see her complete her series of gorgeous coloured and textured prints on paper. She was beaming because she was very pleased with the new creation that featured the image of Philip Paul in his headdress with the words “He was a protector...a good man” emblazoned on the paper. Paul attended the Kuper Island Residential School and became a leader in his community despite his experiences there. I found Jada’s process to be quiet, introspective and private. These prints are a tribute to the resilience, power and strength of her family and our people. She says that “While working on this series I discovered vulnerability, in myself and in our shared history.”

Jada-Gabrielle Pape, The Protector (2013)

I also visited the Emily Carr University of Art + Design student exhibition to see what the First Nations students were doing in response to the history of Residential Schools. I walked into the exhibition space to see Lou-ann Ikaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;wega Neel dancing Potlatch Ban Blanket (2013), which was created using a Hudsonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Bay point blanket. She said that dancing the blanket was an act of defiance, resistance and a mocking of the government policy of the Potlatch Ban, a portion of which is included on the blanket in buttons with the words spelled across them. In a Potlatch there are certain givens. Hosts always welcome guests and make them feel comfortable, guests are fed only the finest food and food is never withheld from a guest. Family and guests eat together and this is a time for visiting and sharing. Lou-ann told me that she was not allowed to talk during meal times at Residential School and that celebrating the Potlatch is celebrating the social, political, economic, cultural and legal aspects of her people. Having the opportunity to share and celebrate openly are a strong form of healing that many artists in this exhibition take part in.

Works from the NET-ETH Exhibition

Chris Bose Chris Bose is a writer, multi-disciplinary artist, musician, curator and filmmaker. He is also a workshop facilitator of community arts events, digital storytelling, art workshops with people of all ages and backgrounds, curatorial work for First Nations art shows and projects, research and writing for periodicals across Canada, project management and coordination, music festival producer, mixed-media productions, film, audio and video recording and editing, and more. Chris is a member of the Nlaka’pamux/Secwepemc Nation, and currently spends his time in Kamloops, BC. “When the Apology by Stephen Harper happened on June 11, 2008, I was both amazed and enraged. I never thought it would happen in my lifetime—or even ever, but how empty it seemed and how quickly it came and went on the Canadian consciousness was unsettling. A week after it happened I went to the DIAND website and downloaded the video for it and began chopping it up to what I heard. The digital art soon followed. I was inspired to keep it alive and to unearth it and bring it to the surface so that we never forget and so people really understand the Residential School experience and the generations of damage that has been done—or at least, to get other people exposed to what happened. These are our hidden histories and the stories must be told, people need to be heard in order for some kind of reconciliation to take place.“

Chris Bose, Fort Kamloops (2009)

Chris Bose, The Only Good Indian... (2012)

Chris Bose, Skelep Warrior (2008)

Bracken Hanuse Corlett Bracken Hanuse Corlett is a multimedia Northwest Coast artist hailing from the Wuikinuxv and Klahoose Nations who began working in theatre and performance and has since transitioned into a focus on video and visual arts. He has worked as a newswriter for Redwire Magazine, and was the co-founder for the Vancouver Indigenous Media Arts Festival. He is a graduate of the En’owkin Centre of Indigenous Art and is currently in his final year at Emily Carr University of Art + Design. He has also studied Northwest Coast art, carving and design from acclaimed Heiltsuk artists Bradley Hunt, Shawn Hunt and Dean Hunt. Some of his notable exhibitions have been at Elliott Louis Gallery, grunt gallery, Gallery Gachet (Vancouver), Three Walls Gallery (Chicago), SAW Gallery (Ottawa), and The Alternator Centre for Contemporary Art (Kelowna). “My mother went to Residential School in Sechelt, BC which is roughly 450 kilometres from our home territory in Wuikinuxv (River’s Inlet). While my mother and most of her thirteen brothers and sisters were in the school their parents passed away in a violent manner. This caused a huge rupture and disconnect in my family. This happened nearly fifty years ago, yet the intergenerational healing process is still very fresh. These three works are meant as an opportunity for healing and as an offering for survivors. I used a triptych format, a sort of ‘unholy’ trinity. The central figure is Atsi: The Taker (2012). She is known as the Wild Woman of the Woods, the giantess that will steal your children if you let them wander. Her character embodies the fear of losing your children and fear of the unknown. Womb Speaker (2012) is an homage to the kids who were forced into Christianity. They were taken from their homes and forced to give up their language and culture, yet these birthrights remain in their blood memory. Unfinished Business (2012) is a piece I made to add darkness and levity to the triptych. In it Atsi is reimagined as a hero kidnapping the Prime Minister.” Opposite: Bracken Hanuse Corlett, Atsi: The Taker (2012) Photo credit: Arnica Artist Run Centre

Bracken Hanuse Corlett, Unfinished Business (2012) Photo credit: Arnica Artist Run Centre

Bracken Hanuse Corlett, Womb Speaker (2012) Photo credit: Arnica Artist Run Centre

Lindsay deLaronde Lindsay Delaronde, an Iroquois/Mohawk woman born and raised in Kahnawá:ke, has been a professional artist for the past three years. Delaronde began making art at a young age, also practicing traditional forms of art-making such as beadwork and cultural crafts. She began her journey to become an artist by travelling to the West Coast of British Columbia. Obtaining her BFA at the Emily Carr Institute of Art + Design, followed by an MFA from the University of Victoria, Delaronde continues her art career creating artworks directly related to being an Indigenous woman in contemporary mainstream society. Delaronde currently lives and works in Victoria, BC. “This artwork is a piece representing the Residential School era through photographic images juxtaposed with a traditional cedar paddle. Archival images depict a time of loss and sorrow of Aboriginal peoples in Canada. The importance of transforming these photographs from old static images into the here and now is to acknowledge and reclaim a part of Canada’s dark history through an Aboriginal perspective (myself). The black and white photographs that are transferred onto the cedar paddle are ‘stolen’ from the BC Archives in Victoria, BC. This gives reference to what the Residential Schools of Canada were trying to accomplish, which was to steal Aboriginal children from their homes, steal culture, customs, language, resources and land. The Indian Residential School system as a whole was an act of theft of Aboriginal identity. Incorporating the paddle represents the ability of Aboriginal peoples to move forward in the journey back to our culture. In the process of creating this piece, I became a thief to reclaim the lost souls of the children in the photographs. I am stealing back what was stolen from them.“

Above: Lindsay Delaronde, Stolen detail (2013) Following: Lindsay Delaronde, Stolen (2013)

Wayne Dennis Wayne Dennis was born in Port Alberni, Vancouver Island, BC. He is of Huu-ay-aht ancestry, which is a part of the Nuuchah-nulth First Nations. He learned to carve at the age of eleven from his late father, William Dennis Sr. Native artwork is in his family. His mother and grandmother weaved baskets and his older brother William Jr. carved as well. Wayne specializes in talking sticks using his dad’s designs. The talking stick, also called a speaker’s staff, is an instrument of Aboriginal democracy used by many tribes, especially those of Indigenous peoples of the Northwest Coast. The talking stick may be passed around a group or used by leaders as a symbol of their authority and right to speak in public. “In a tribal council circle, a talking stick is passed around from member to member allowing only the person holding the stick to speak. This enables all those present at a council meeting to be heard, especially those who may be shy. Consensus can force the stick to move along to ensure that the ‘long winded’ don’t dominate the discussion and the person holding the stick may allow others to interject. Talking sticks have high ceremonial and spiritual value, and have proved to be exceedingly useful during current implementations.”

Opposite: Wayne Dennis, talking sticks (L to R): Thunderbird, Bear and Medicine Man (2013) Thunderbird and Bear 2 (2013) Thunderbird and Bear 1 (2013)

Ken Faris Ken Faris studied art in England during the 1960â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and later became an art teacher at a high school and then a Coordinator and Lecturer at the Banff School of Fine Arts. He eventually trained to become a Registered Psychologist, receiving his MA from the University of Victoria in 1978. His career brought him to Tofino in the early 90â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s as a mental health worker specializing in alcohol and drug counselling. After 16 years in Tofino, Ken now resides in Victoria, BC. "In 1994 when I was the Mental Health Worker in Tofino, I became a member of the Board of the Kakawis Family Development Centre, retiring in 2010. Kakawis was an outgrowth of the Christie Residential School and remained on that site on Meares Island near Tofino until they moved to Port Alberni and became Kackaamin in 2009. In the late 90's I began four paintings centering on the Indian Residential School experience as a way for me to understand more viscerally the devastating nature and impact of what had occurred. The images moved with and beyond the specific in order to enter into the cruel psychological and spiritual impact of the schools. Though it is nearly impossible to fully grasp the pain and loss without going through the experience oneself, the attempt can help lead to the grief and compassion that can help us to respond in ways that will contribute to healing."

Opposite: Ken Faris, The Summons (2001)

Above left: Ken Faris, Spirit of Christie, Spirits of Christie, Spirit of the Creator (1998) Right: Ken Faris, The Crucifixion (Christie Crucifix) 1999 Opposite: Ken Faris, Civilizing the Savage (That You Will Never Forget) 1999

Mimi Gellman Mimi Gellman is an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Culture and Community at Emily Carr University of Art + Design. She is currently working on her PhD, “Between the Dreamtime and the GPS/the Metaphysics of Indigenous Mapping” in the Cultural Studies Program at Queen’s University. Her Master of Visual Studies was completed in 2009 at the University of Toronto and explored the realm of the aesthetics of walking. She has been a practicing conceptual artist and curator for many years and is a former design instructor at the Ontario College of Art and Design. Her work can be found in private collections and in numerous public sites in the City of Toronto. She recently exhibited her work in the seminal exhibition, On Line: Drawing Through the Twentieth Century at MoMA in New York. “As an artist I’m interested in the reconciliation of my two heritages and how my cultural memory makes sense of this ongoing colonial project and its effects on my people. With this work, Blood Ties (2010), I am exploring the nature of embodiment: the way that objects can embody spirit, engaging in conversations with one another. This installation represents a zone where space and time fluctuate and strange baffling histories overlap. The seven moccasins are a hybrid-cross between traditional Ojibwe moccasins and medieval Jewish ritual shoes called ‘Halitza’. The moccasins are filled with small river stones collected in the course of my many wanderings. They speak about the weight of the journey and communicate through their posture and arrangement, the fragility and complexity of life in the flesh. The leather thongs are expressions of the powerful ties that bind us to our cultures and our peoples, their length reinforcing the reach and intensity of our connections. The work explores the place where memories, dreams and reveries interconnect, a place that privileges spirit over matter.”

Above: Mimi Gellman, Blood Ties (2010) Left: Blood Ties (detail) Photo credit: David Kaye Gallery

Richard HeikkilÄ-Sawan Richard was born in Vancouver, British Columbia. His mother is of Finnish descent and his father is Cree. Adopted at two months, he grew up in Abbotsford, BC. Richard draws from his Finnish and Aboriginal biological roots as both a catalyst and a context for his diverse creative practices. Although he is a designer and painter, his first love has always been architecture. He is acutely aware of both the urban and natural spaces that surround him. It is the stark simplicity of defined lines and the gentle plunge of ergonomic curves, accented by the wild landscape of British Columbia that instills an uncanny sense of harmony in the artist. Richard graduated from Applied Multimedia in Calgary in 1998 and has been working as a graphic designer/web developer/artist for fifteen years. Richard is currently in his third year at Emily Carr University of Art + Design. “At first glimpse, one might think that Nasty Habit (2013) is majestic or even glorious. Upon closer investigation the truth slaps the viewer in the face and assaults the senses. Nasty Habit speaks in a heavy-handed manner to the sensitive issues related to that of the Residential Schools where Aboriginal children were removed from their families and deprived of their ancestral languages and customs with many being exposed to physical and sexual abuse at the hands of staff and other students. Standing twelve feet tall, the viewer is given a perspective like that of a small child. One is presented with a choice to either gaze upward to experience an aspect of perceived virtue, or to look downward into the realm of the truth.”

Opposite: Richard Heikkilä-Sawan, Nasty Habit (2013) Photo credit: Xch’e’ Balam

Raven John Raven John is a Native artist who works in the realm of sculpture, humour, and illustration. She is a child of the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, from Pemberton through to Vancouver and Hope. Her works encompass a contemporary twist on traditional materials and issues of identity as Queer, Native, Artist, and Activist. John is currently in her third year of the Bachelor of Fine Arts program at Emily Carr University of Art + Design. â&#x20AC;&#x153;As Native Americans we walk through life knowing that we cannot be what we were. We will never be able to change back, yet we can never fit the shape of what was intended by our assimilators. Many of us come from a culture fractured by abuse and torture. We come from a culture that has been restructured to be less than that of the sadists who undertook this process. We are geographically, socially, and economically isolated from opportunity. We press our hides, lubricate them so we can walk side by side with the white men in their suits, all the while aware of our difference.â&#x20AC;&#x153;

Raven John, D(r)ying (2011)

Lou-ann Ika'wega Neel Lou-ann Neel is a descendant of the Mamaliliḵa̱la, Da̱’naxda’x̱w, Ma’a̱mtagila, ‘Na̱mg̱is and Kwagu’ł tribes of the

Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw (Kwak’wala-speaking people). Her Kwak’wala names are K’idi-kle-Iogw, Ika’wega and Ga’astalas. She has been designing and creating original works for over twenty-five years; working in wood carving and original painted designs and later in textiles and jewellery design. Her work is greatly influenced by the work of her grandmother Ellen Neel (Kakaso’las) and her great, great grandfather, Charlie James (Yakuglas). “I created this button blanket to serve as a reminder of the persecution of First Nations people, in particular, the law that was enacted to make it illegal for our people to practice our traditional ways. The actual wording of s.141 of the Indian Act (known as the Potlatch Ban) has been written on buttons pinned to the blanket in black font similar to that used by the colonial government in official correspondence and legislation of that era. I chose the Hudson’s Bay blanket as it came to be widely used as an item of trade between First Nations peoples and the Hudson’s Bay Company, but also became suspected of serving as the vehicle for the spread of smallpox, tuberculosis and other diseases that decimated our populations. On the bottom of the blanket are a series of ‘points’. The point system was invented by French weavers in the mid 18th century as a means of indicating the finished overall size (area) of a blanket, since then, as now, blankets were shrunk or felted as part of the manufacturing process. The word point derives from the French empointer meaning ‘to make threaded stitches on cloth’. I have added 6.7 points, each point representing one decade, which is symbolic of the 67 years that it was illegal for our people to practice our art forms of singing, dancing, carving, weaving, painting, and storytelling.” Opposite: Lou-ann Ika’wega Neel, Potlatch Ban Blanket (2013) Following: Potlatch Ban Blanket detail (2013)

Jada-Gabrielle Pape Jada-Gabrielle Pape is Coast Salish from the Saanich and Snuneymuxw Nations. She lives in East Vancouver with her fantastic eight-year-old daughter and their ridiculously cute pit bull, Sylvia. Jada received a BA from the creative writing program at University of British Columbia and an MEd in curriculum and instruction and counselling psychology, also from UBC. She has also attended art classes at Emily Carr University of Art + Design. â&#x20AC;&#x153;My art tells stories and histories of our people, of my family and of my personal experience within these contexts. My work is built on the traditions of our ancestors: quietly sharing teachings and history through speaking intimacies and truth. I grew up in a family who spoke passionately about the importance of dignity for our people, our culture and our teachings; always, there was the overarching traditional and political stance. I was shaped by these discussions and the good work my family has done out of a deep commitment to the future of our people. I have few memories of discussing feelings, identity or place within family. I know this void of emotional explorations is a direct result of the hurt our people experienced in Indian Residential Schools. I am strongly influenced by the landscape of our territory; this body of work is in traditional Coast Salish colours. I am attracted to layers and texture; creating depth piece by piece, layer upon layer. I am always striving to find structure and a soothing balance amidst a seemingly rough surface. This is where I find quiet healing and the solitary pleasure of painting. The intimacy of Coming Home is Our Medicine (2013) symbolizes the memories of all the children who lived in Indian Residential Schools, both those who survived and those who did not. It is our private memories, and the beauty of our homes and families that kept these kids afloat in the daily shame they were forced to endure. Their memories were their medicine.â&#x20AC;?

Jada-Gabrielle Pape, Coming Home is Our Medicine (2013)

Above: Jada-Gabrielle Pape, The Protector (2013) Opposite: Jada-Gabrielle Pape, Ancestors (2013)

Jada-Gabrielle Pape, Family Portrait (2013)

Jada-Gabrielle Pape, Salmon Eggs and Rust (2013)

Kelly Roulette & Patricia Lena Teichert Kelly Roulette is Ojibway from the Long Plain First Nation in Manitoba. Her work in the creative arts spans more than twenty years and includes work in theatre, television, radio, writing and now painting. Kelly, a former lawyer, has lived in BC since she was thirteen years old and now calls it home. She is the proud mom of a seven-year-old daughter. “My paintings depict the faces of First Nations people who have survived the Residential School experience. The faces of my subjects portray both those who have flourished and those who have fallen on hard times. I have included a painting of the great Sioux Chief Sitting Bull, called Red Man (2013), who I sketched when I was a young teen pondering the role of Native people in Canada. I believe that the role of First Nations people has always been the same: as advocates for the protection of the environment.” Kelly’s mother Patricia Lena Teichert was the youngest child in Canadian history ever to go to an Indian Residential School. She believes her family has not only survived the Residential School experience, they have flourished in spite if it. She attributes her family’s success to her strong grandmother, Kelly’s great-grandmother. “My work represents the strength and wisdom of our grandmothers, the women who carry the knowledge of our people. When I think of what our grandmothers endured, I am reminded of the time I spent with my grandmother, a woman who practiced our traditional ways. Her beliefs survived the invasion of Christianity, the assimilation enforced on her children and grandchildren by the Residential School system, the cultural genocide of her people. The methods that were used to erase ancient Ojibway teachings did not make her waver or back down. She remained steadfast in traditional ways of life to the end. She represented the resilience, sensitivity and dignity of Ojibway women. This work is my tribute to her.”

Top left: Patricia Lena Teichert, Her Journey (2011) Top right: Kelly Roulette, Red Man (2013) Bottom right: Kelly Roulette, Regaining Regalia (2013)

Adrian Stimson Adrian Stimson is a member of the Siksika (Blackfoot) Nation in southern Alberta and graduated with a BFA with distinction from the Alberta College of Art & Design and an MFA from the University of Saskatchewan. He is an interdisciplinary artist whose work includes paintings, installations and performances that re-signify colonial history. Adrian was awarded the Blackfoot Visual Arts Award in 2009, the Queen Elizabeth II Golden Jubilee Medal in 2003, and the Alberta Centennial Medal in 2005 for his human rights and diversity activism in various communities. He currently lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. “The legacy of Indian Residential Schools is felt far and wide, specifically by those who attended these schools. There is no doubt that the government and churches intended to ‘kill the Indian in the child’. The policy of aggressive assimilation was manifested in a number of ways, primarily to isolate children from their families and culture to re-program them for life in a euro-western world. Assimilation forces individuals to stop being who they are to become someone else. Both my father and I attended Residential Schools, my father for ten years and I for five years; we have intimate knowledge of that experience. Part of my father’s story is my story and in many ways they parallel. I, like my father, have experienced abuse that continues to be a part of our beings, abuse that has affected us in similar and different ways. Both of us are haunted by our Residential School days and the aggressive assimilation that continues to this day. Through my artwork, I exorcise this history, seeking ways to ‘heal’, yet the pain never really goes away. Like my father, I just look for ways to cope. We’ll never know what it’s like to be ‘normal’ in western society; how could we after experiencing these aggressive policies?”

Adrian Stimson, Aggressive Assimilation (2013)

Jerry Whitehead Jerry Whitehead is an artist and mentor from the Peter Chapman First Nation who currently resides in Vancouver, BC. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in Indian Art from the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College and a BFA from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design in Halifax. His work has been exhibited across Canada, in exhibitions in Saskatchewan, Ontario, Nova Scotia and British Columbia and has been commissioned by University Hospital in Saskatoon and the Summer Pops Symphony at Cable Wharf in Halifax to name but two. His work can also be seen in Saskatchewan at Artworks in Saskatoon and at the Wanuskewin Heritage Park. “These paintings are a diversion from what I usually paint. I dwell on odd things once and awhile, you know how ideas come out like that. In Twelve Merry Steps (2005) I was commenting on addiction because I used to party a lot and I didn’t have to go through those steps, I just quit cold-turkey. If you can will yourself to do those things it is easier. Otherwise it can be a continuous struggle for people. The style I did these works in was trying to recreate that haphazard feeling of my life in the past. When you’re partying, everything is abstracted from being under the influence. There is no pre-planning in the painting, I just laid it down. Keep in Touch (2012) is about how people lose touch with one another. No one writes to each other anymore, they don’t have that personal contact. It’s not the same as it was before. In that painting I wrote ‘you forgot to write’ about people being at a distance from each other and being lonely. It reflects the old days when I was in Residential School. People used to write to each other back then, letters were always coming in and out. They were happy moments but it was also lonely because some people were left out. Don’t Worry, I’ll See You Again (2013) focuses on that aspect of loneliness.” Opposite: Jerry Whitehead, Keep in Touch (2012)

Above: Jerry Whitehead, Friday Night Imbalance (2005) Opposite: Jerry Whitehead, Twelve Merry Steps (2005)

Above: Jerry Whitehead, Don’t Worry, I’ll See You Again (2013) Opposite: Jerry Whitehead, Beware of the Stairs My Lady (2005)

Tania Willard Tania Willard (Secwepemc Nation) works within the shifting ideas around contemporary and traditional, often working with bodies of knowledge and skills that are conceptually linked to her interest in intersections between Aboriginal and other cultures. Willard has worked as an artist in residence with Gallery Gachet in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, the Banff Centre’s visual arts residency, fiction, and Trading Post, as a Curator in Residence at grunt gallery, and was recently awarded a curatorial residency with Kamloops Art Gallery. Willard’s recent curatorial work includes Beat Nation: Art, Hip Hop and Aboriginal Culture at Vancouver Art Gallery. An honours graduate from the University of Victoria (1998), Tania continues to work in the arts in many capacities, maintaining her commitment to celebrating Aboriginal expression. Working with narrative and story throughout her work in the arts, media and advocacy, Tania shares her people’s stories, history and experiences. “I believe we all have a story to share, the stories of this land; our cultures and our experiences enrich our lives. In this series of silkscreen work I was struck by the archival images of team sports, particularly hockey, at Indian Residential Schools. Juxtaposing a national sport like hockey with the traumatic experiences of Residential School, this work looks at an imagined intervention, a protector for the children. I wanted to posit an Indian goalie spirit who would save us from the trauma of Residential School. In light of the Truth and Reconciliation hearings and the testimony of legendary Aboriginal NHL hockey players like Fred Saskamoose who discussed physical and sexual abuse at the schools, I imagined that these goalie spirits could ward off sadness and injustice. There were hockey teams at many Residential Schools and the popularity of hockey in First Nations communities and on reserves remains as a testament to spaces at Residential School where children could escape the onslaught of oppression and could celebrate and be strong. The Indian hockey story is one of survival.”

Tania Willard, The Protectors You Never Had (2013)

Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun (Coast Salish, b. 1957) is a Vancouver-based artist who graduated from the Emily Carr College of Art + Design in 1983 with an honours degree in painting. He documents and promotes change in contemporary Indigenous history through his paintings using Coast Salish cosmology, Northwest Coast formal design elements and the Western landscape tradition. His work explores political, environmental, and cultural issues and his own personal and socio-political experiences enhance this practice of documentation. In addition to his solo shows his work has been shown in numerous group exhibitions including INDIGENA: Contemporary Native Perspectives in 1992 at the Canadian Museum of Civilization. In 1998 he was the recipient of the Vancouver Institute for the Visual Arts (VIVA) Award. His paintings are held in the collections of the Vancouver Art Gallery, the Canadian Museum of Civilization (Gatineau, QC), the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs and the National Gallery of Canada. Yuxweluptun attended the Kamloops Indian Residential School as a child. “My work is about recording history. Native people need memorial places in every city, town and reserve so we have spaces to pray, to mourn and to honour those that lost their lives at Indian Residential Schools and those that survived—to honour these children who died and made the biggest sacrifice for us with their own lives so that we could have a better life. I went to a Residential School myself, so I know what it was like. One of my friends died at the school when I was attending. My work is based on that kind of memory and is a statement about what the church did to us. It is time to share these memories. I am not interested in finger-pointing or laying blame, it is more important to talk about what we are going to do now. Let us do this together, Canada. It is a time for resolution and healing, let’s pray this does not happen to anyone any more.”

Opposite: Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun, Residential School Dirty Laundry (2013)

NET-ETH Exhibition: LIST OF WORKS All dimensions are height, followed by width, followed by depth (where applicable). Chris Bose Fort Kamloops (2009) digital image 40.64 x 60.96 cm

Thunderbird and Bear 1 (2013) yellow cedar and leather dye 40.64 cm

The Only Good Indian... (2012) digital image 63.5 x 87.63 cm

Ken Faris The Summons (2001) acrylic on canvas 121.92 x 91.44 cm

Skelep Warrior (2008) digital image 63.5 x 87.63 cm Bracken Hanuse Corlett Atsi: The Taker (2012) acrylic on red cedar, horse hair 83.82 x 38.1 x 27.94 cm Unfinished Business (2012) acrylic on canvas 76.2 x 60.96 cm

The Crucifixion (Christie Crucifix) 1999 acrylic on canvas 152.4 x 101.6 cm Civilizing the Savage (That You Will Never Forget) 1999 acrylic on canvas 182.88 x 137.16 cm

Photos courtesy of Arnica Artist Run Centre

Mimi Gellman Blood Ties (2010) deer leather, black kid leather, shelf, river stones (installation) 25.4 x 182.88 cm Photo credit: David Kaye Gallery

Lindsay Delaronde Stolen (2013) photo transfer and acrylic on cedar paddle 157.48 x 20.32 x 5.08 cm Paddle Maker - Hjalmer Wenstob (Nuu-chah-nulth)

Richard Heikkilä-Sawan Nasty Habit (2013) mixed media (installation) dimensions variable Photo credit: Xch’e’ Balam

Wayne Dennis talking sticks (L to R): Thunderbird, Bear and Medicine Man (2013) yellow cedar and leather dye 60.96 cm

Raven John D(r)ying (2011) elk hide, ironing board, iron (installation) dimensions variable

Thunderbird and Bear 2 (2013) yellow cedar and leather dye 45.72 cm

Lou-ann Ika’wega Neel Potlatch Ban Blanket (2013) textile (Hudson’s Bay blanket), faux fur, custom text buttons 177.8 x 127 cm

Womb Speaker (2012) acrylic on canvas 76.2 x 60.96 cm

Spirit of Christie, Spirits of Christie, Spirit of the Creator (1998) acrylic on canvas 121.92 x 91.75 cm

Jada-Gabrielle Pape Coming Home is Our Medicine (2013) abalone shell, polymer clay, leather, string and wood dimensions variable

Jerry Whitehead Keep in Touch (2012) acrylic on canvas 165.1 x 165.1 cm

The Protector (2013) mixed media on handmade paper 43.18 x 72.6 cm

Twelve Merry Steps (2005) acrylic on canvas 135.89 x 60.96 cm

Ancestors (2013) mixed media on handmade paper 75.99 x 53.97 cm

Friday Night Imbalance (2005) acrylic on canvas 85.09 x 135.89 cm

Family Portrait (2013) mixed media on handmade paper 75.99 x 53.97 cm

Beware of the Stairs My Lady (2005) acrylic on canvas 160.02 x 91.44 cm

Salmon Eggs and Rust (2013) mixed media on handmade paper 75.99 x 50.8 cm

Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t Worry, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll See You Again (2013) study for woodblock print 38.1 x 55.88 cm

Kelly Roulette Red Man (2013) acrylic on canvas 91.44 x 76.2 cm

Tania Willard The Protectors You Never Had (2013) digital images

Regaining Regalia (2013) acrylic on canvas 60.96 x 50.8 cm

Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun Residential School Dirty Laundry (2013) mixed media (installation) dimensions variable

Patricia Lena Teichert Her Journey (2011) acrylic on canvas 50.8 x 40.64 cm Adrian Stimson Aggressive Assimilation (2013) photographic tryptich (Adrian Jr./Old Sun Residential School/Adrian Sr.) 50.8 x 162.56 cm

The NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness exhibition also features these artists whose work was not available for inclusion in the catalogue: Lacie Burning Rande Cook Brenda Crabtree Melvin Dunn Jordana Luggi David Neel / Ellena Neel Dionne Paul

HEALING FROM THE RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL EXPERIENCE: by Maxine Thomas Pape Our collective memory is like a weathered house post

We walk on the path of healing for the survival of

that we unearth from beneath luscious green moss, or

our people.

a treasured woven basket with gaping holes but still

minds tell us we cannot heal. Our minds need the care

carrying the perfect intricate pattern of loving hands.

to connect to the brilliant healing deep within.

We can either see destruction, feel pain, carry defeat or

We are deeply hurt and that is the story of the Residential

seek and find the treasures and rebuild with what we

School experience of our Indigenous people. This is

find. We need our personal power to heal ourselves,

about a whole continent of people with cultural integrity

we need each other to heal our people but most of all

who were forced into a system, to dynamically alter the

we need to search for the story in our mind and heart

cultural values of a people forever.

and spirit. With this common story in the light of day, we can be a part of a solution.

First, we honour the survival of our people, we remember the lost children who never returned home, we send

We walk on the path of healing for the survival of our

prayers and love to those children who witnessed those

people. We have a collective consciousness about

horrors and never spoke the story, we honour those

what happened to us in the dark years. We were bent

survivors who have lived to share their stories and those

under the weight of our story, our voices are strangled

who cannot, we stand with you, we are a part of you.

by shame we have not spoken to each other about what happened to us throughout the history of our

These children were born to be Matriarchs, Healers,

people. Our bodies now walk with diseases that our

Leaders, Weavers, Carvers, Canoe-builders, and House-

builders, Harvesters, Herbalists, Historians, Philosophers,

We are part of our great-grandparentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history, our

Singers and Drum-makers. They were all born to read

great-grandchildrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history, the history of a stolen

the seasons and the earth and speak the language that

identity, the ban against our spiritual practice, the

communicated to all living things. They were born to be

pollution of our land and waters, the loss of our food

cherished and blanketed to wear their ancestral name

and medicines, and so we also carry this grief. When

and fulfill their hereditary role.

we lose our land, we lose our relationship to the land, our healing. Our struggle is to define ourselves and

We tell our story and learn from each other, to break

accept our definitions of ourselves so we can move

the silence, and recover the part of us that was buried

towards a goal we can put our belief in.

in the silence. In this way, we are good medicine to each other. Our story is part of the ceremonial process

We have seen and heard many wonderful leaders

of washing ourselves and making room for all the good

of our many nations who we could believe in; we

We tell our story and learn from each other, to break the silence, and recover the part of us that was buried in the silence.

as a people and worked to right the wrongs of the

work we have yet to do. Our story and our healing is in

Canadian government in the control they exercise

our heart, mind and spirit, it is in our families, it is in our

over our people, our land, our education, our health,

nations, our communities, our land and rivers, our food

our culture, our language, our communities and the

and with knowledge of the history. We know where

way we define ourselves. Leadership is something we

we need to heal. We will integrate the values of our

recognize and nurture in every generation.

ancestors with all living things to flourish.

dared to put our belief in their vision. They loved us

...this very same system and policy that was set up against The predators and sadists who controlled the Residential Schools where almost all our families in

the Indigenous people of South and Central America, Australia, New Zealand and the Sami people of the Arctic Circle of Europe.

all our nations since 1871 controlled and defined

deer, elk, seaweed and medicines that only grow in

our identities have massively affected us. We inherit

virgin soil were plentiful. Long houses were the homes

these changes to our culture. The Residential Schools

of the day where dozens of dug-out canoes lined the

are part of our common history here in Canada and

shores and rivers and carved crests of the spirit of the

many of us may not know that this very same system

families reflected pride and identity.

and policy that was set up at the same time against the Indigenous people of South and Central America,

Sod houses were still the homes of the river peoples of

Australia, New Zealand and the Sami people of the

the interior of BC. Teepees and lean-to camping huts in

Arctic Circle of Europe. Our countries are in denial;

use as temporary shelter and river canoes made travel

secrets prevail of how they took over these lands and

easy while dip nets served to feed salmon to the Fraser

what they did to control the people of the land. History

River, Skeena River and Columbia River people. In the

as seen through a hole in a basket of sacred things, in

north as on the coast, the harvest of mountain goats

the voice of a conqueror.

for food and wool was commonplace, a part of life. Our ancestors wore deer and elk-hide clothing or cedar

In 1867 when Canada was founded, some of our

capes and hats, hand-woven blankets and ate well

people still were whalers. They built salmon weirs, and

from the land, lived amidst the giant trees, amidst the

wove nettle nets to harvest fish or ducks. Full oolichan

murmuring plants of the desert, harvested in summer

runs nurtured a healthy diet, and herring, clams, duck,

and moved into community winter homes where we

We still resist, continue to survive, walk our healing path and welcome the vision of these artists.

Many aspects of our modern life as a people are still

embedded our history into the memories of a new

fragmented, much of it tangled in the web of confusion

generation. It all worked in balance and harmony; a

created by the loss of identity and cohesion. The push

seasonal and industrious people living in co-operation

and pull of every aspect of our life controlled by non-

with the gifts of the land. We all spoke our language,

natives bears witness to the stall in solution building.

carried our own history, protected our territories and learned the necessary survival skills from our elders.

If we represent our wellness by the loss of our children, we are in desperate condition. If we represent it by the

We know the part of our history where the colonial

state of our language or educational achievement, we

process began and continues to this day: the continuous

are in crisis. In a very real sense we are the children of

erosion of our culture and land. We still resist, continue

the Residential School experience.

to survive, walk our healing path and welcome the vision of these artists.

We must build our way out of the eroded hope that consumed many of our people for upwards of 150

But many of our people struggle to survive. Homes,

years. It is not a stagnant pool of despair where we live;

nourishing food, clean water, models for how to live

our generations of survivors have achieved a balance

and make choices in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s world are the issues of our

of traditional teachings with our cultural values and

communities and our people today. The control we

practices as a priority, as wellness.

lost over our lands was the beginning of the loss of control over our lives.

I’m an Indian book then I go to the Residential School. I’m an Indian book inside of me I have no contents I’m an Indian book someone ripped my leaves broke my back bone and removed my cover I’m an Indian book someone threw me in the trash can The story goes on and on After the Residential School I became a drunk. I’m a druggie My life is swirling towards a grave If I enter the grave my story will fade Next the page of summer A breeze gave me breath A page of autumn I harvest medicine to heal myself A page of winter A perfect snowflake lands in my dream A page of spring I am a seed of love ready to grow on Mother Earth A little girl from the rez picked me up from the trash can She found out what I was so she repaired me internally and externally I’m an Indian book The little girl read my stories over and over. Dennis Saddleman from With a Pencil I Went Across a Page to Find Myself (2010)

Architectural plan: Kuper Island Residential School, 1914, R.M. Ogilvie, architect. Front Elevation. ÂŠ Indian and Northern Affairs. Reproduced with the permission of the Minister of Public Works and Government Services Canada, 2011. Source: Library and Archives Canada / Indian and Northern Affairs / RG22M 77803 / 111 Item 837.

A Shared and Difficult History: by Tarah Hogue Net-eth: Going out of the Darkness presents multiple

becomes apparent that history itself is contested

vantages on the experience and lasting effects of Indian

territory. The works in this exhibition address the

Residential Schools (IRS). Bringing together Indigenous

problematics of Canada’s troubled past in order to

artists from the Downtown Eastside, students from

affect the history and remembrance of the IRS system.

Emily Carr University of Art + Design and other well-

There is widespread deficiency in education around

known contemporary artists like Chris Bose, Adrian

the history of Indian Residential Schools, especially in

Stimson, Tania Willard and Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun

primary and secondary school curricula, where there

creates a dialogue around this traumatic history that is,

is a lack of information and resources available for both

from the outset, incredibly difficult to articulate.

students and teachers2.

Writing about the nature of testimony, Shoshana

According to Taiaike Alfred, “Canadians like to imagine

Felman suggests that “as a relation to events, testimony

that they have always acted with peaceful good intentions

seems to be composed of bits and pieces of memory that

toward us by trying to fix 'the Indian problem' even as they

has been overwhelmed by occurrences that have not

displaced, marginalized and brutalized us as part of the

settled into understanding or remembrance, acts that

colonial project. Canadians do not like to hear that their

cannot be construed as knowledge nor assimilated into

country was founded through frauds, abuses and violence

full cognition, events in excess of our frames of reference.”1

perpetrated against the original peoples of this land.

When considering the relationship between testimony

Canadians are in denial, in extremis.”3

and the history of Indian Residential Schools, it

In light of this, I begin with a brief discussion of what

Every aspect of a child’s life was controlled and

we do know about Indian Residential Schools with the

surveyed in an Indian Residential School. Children as

caveat that many others have written about this history

young as six (and sometimes younger) were separated

extensively. I can only hope to brush the surface and

from their parents for ten months of the year as well

encourage the reader to find out more for themselves.

Indian Residential Schools were a joint venture between the Anglican, Presbyterian, United and Roman Catholic Churches with the Canadian government, spanning over a century from their beginnings in the 1880s to their closure in the 1980s.4 Victorian values of industriousness coupled with a missionary zeal led to the belief that Indigenous people were savage, lazy, uneducated and therefore in need of guidance. Nicholas Flood Davin’s 1879 report on Industrial Schools in the United States recommended that Canada adopt a similar policy of ‘aggressive civilization’ stating

These staged photographs first appeared in the Department of Indian Affairs 1904 Annual Report. They have been reproduced in numerous books and exhibitions about Indian Residential Schools as a strong visualization of the drive to “cultivate” Indigenous children as seen in Thomas’ contrasting dress and surroundings.

“if anything is to be done with the Indian, we must catch

as from their siblings attending the same school if

him very young. The children must be kept constantly

they were of different gender. Despite not speaking a

within the circle of civilized conditions.”5 This ideology led

word of English, children were severely punished for

to the public funding of the IRS system.

Thomas Moore before and after admission to Regina Industrial School, N.D., Saskatchewan Archives Board, R-8223 (1)-(2)

speaking their own language.6 Discipline frequently

children worked well above the half-day stipulations.9

spilled over into both physical and sexual abuse. In

The schedule would have been exhausting and “there

2005, Arthur Plint was charged with sixteen counts of

was, unfortunately, no guarantee in any of this that the

indecent assault while acting as dorm supervisor of Port

children would be fed adequately at the end of the day

Alberni Indian Residential School. The B.C. Supreme

and considerable evidence that the commercialization of

Court Justice Douglas Hogarth labelled Plint a ‘sexual

the school operation contributed to malnutrition. The sale

terrorist’ and stated, “as far as the victims were concerned,

of dairy products, milk, cream and butter was common

the Indian residential school system was nothing more

throughout the system and a good revenue source. It

than institutionalized pedophilia.”7

meant in many cases, however, that the children were denied these important foods.”10

Upon entering the institution, hair was routinely cut short—a symbol of spiritual power for many

Reports on the appalling living conditions of the

Indigenous people that would only be cut during

IRS were similar across the country, the old school

times of mourning8—and they were issued new

buildings deteriorated without money for upkeep

clothes, uniformity being the ultimate reflection of the

and coupled with problems of overcrowding and

civilizing process. Students were also subjected to a

poor sanitation, became breeding grounds for

strict schedule beginning as early as 5:30 am. A half-day

tuberculosis.11 Dr. P.H. Bryce, the former Chief Medical

system was implemented wherein half of the day was

Officer of the Department of Indian Affairs published a

allotted for classroom studies while the other half was

pamphlet in 1922 entitled The Story of a National Crime

allotted for practical chores, though in some instances

being an Appeal for Justice to the Indians of Canada in

which he blamed the Department for the widespread

that the government and churches had full knowledge

deaths caused by tuberculosis in the system, owing

of the terrible conditions and abuse suffered by

to the Department’s complete lack of action to

the approximately 150,000 children that attended

combat the disease despite their knowledge of it. A

this institution.13 Even after the recognition that the

shocking admission by Duncan Campbell Scott, the

program of assimilation had failed, the move away from

superintendent of the Department from 1913 to 1932,

the Residential School model was long and plagued by

was that he believed that fifty percent of the children

under-qualified teachers and continuing abuse.14

that passed through the system did not live to “benefit from the education which they had received therein.”12

We are still very much living with the effects of this system through multiple aspects such as “transmitted

Those who called for reform of the system, such as Dr.

personal trauma and compromised family systems, as

Bryce, were frequently met by empty promises and

well as the loss in Aboriginal communities of language,

flat-out inaction on the part of the Department. This

culture, and the teaching of tradition from one

is despite, as has been shown by Milloy and others,

generation to another.”15 Continuing patterns of abuse

Even after the recognition that the program of assimilation had failed, the move away from the Residential School model was long and plagued by under-qualified teachers and continuing abuse.

and low self-esteem have also led to high rates of alcoholism, substance-abuse and suicide, all of which is plainly evident in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside neighbourhood.

The IRS system was a massive effort between church

process of healing that many survivors have been

and state to eradicate Indigenous culture through

undertaking for much of their lives. Considering her

assimilating children into the Canadian body politic by

own position as belonging to the “settler” culture of

replacing one set of worldviews with another. It was,

Canada, Paulette Regan, the Director of Research for

in other words, a form of ontological warfare meant to

the TRC of Canada, eloquently counters this line of

separate children from their roots in language, cultural

thinking:

practices and oral narratives that fundamentally inform the way in which a person interacts with their

“To those who argue that they are not responsible, because

environment. Apologists for the system, however,

they were not directly involved with the Residential

sometimes argue that Indian Residential Schools are

Schools, I say that, as Canadian citizens, we are ultimately

a part of history and should therefore be left in the

responsible for the past and present actions of our

past—a sentiment which often leads to the charge of

government. To those who say that we cannot change the

“get over it”.

past, I say that we can learn from it. Failing to do so will ensure that, despite our vow of never again, Canada will

This is a view of history that denies the experiences of

create equally destructive policies and practices into the

the approximately eighty thousand survivors currently

future. To those who argue that former IRS students should

living,16 a number that does not begin to address the

just get over it and move on, I say that asking victims to

intergenerational effects of this history. Beyond this,

bury a traumatic past for the “greater good” of achieving

it also fundamentally denies the power of empathy

reconciliation does not address the root of the problem—

in human communication, which is essential to the

colonialism.“17

Beyond a call to action and a recognition of

Oral and written history are not necessarily opposing

responsibility,

the

forces, however. Erin Hansen, the Research Project

fundamentally contested nature of history and the

Manager for Indigenous Foundations, an online

tendency of Canadian history to white-wash its colonial

resource developed by the First Nations Studies

beginnings whether on the world stage,18 or in school

Program at the University of British Columbia, argues

curricula that emphasizes narratives of discovery and

that “oral narratives should be treated as parallel to

peaceful encounter.

history but are not understood as such when they are

Regan’s

statement

illustrates

looked on as mere repositories of data.”20 This becomes Differences in thinking around history are nowhere

especially apparent in the courtroom, where what

more evident than when considering the oral narratives

constitutes history comes to bear on the operation of

of many Indigenous groups. Instead of written ‘facts’,

jurisprudence.

oral history is composed of the telling and re-telling of narratives that are significant to sustaining familial

One of the most significant—certainly the most

and cultural ties. They are collective memories that

widely discussed—examples of this is Delgamuukw

“connect speaker and listener in communal experience

v. British Columbia

uniting past and present in memory.”19 Inherent in this is

Wet’suwet’en peoples argued for Aboriginal title

a unique perspective on the passage of time and the

over their traditional territories in the B.C. Supreme

significance of events that may have occurred long

Court. In order to prove their title, evidence was

before the present moment.

needed that the Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en had

wherein

the

Gitksan

and

been occupying their territory for thousands of

years. Without written evidence, hereditary chiefs

By dismissing oral narratives as sufficient evidence of a

presented their own oral histories as evidence in

history of occupation, McEachern effectively silenced

the form of dances, narratives, speeches and songs.

an entire culture’s historical record as irrelevant—as

B.C. Supreme Court Justice Allen McEachern initially

outside the realm of history.

accepted their oral history as evidence but in the final decision concluded that the Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en

The Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en appealed their case in

ancestors were a “people without culture.”21 The lawyers

the Supreme Court of Canada, wherein they won a

for the Crown argued that the oral narratives should

precedent-setting victory that allowed the admission

be considered ‘hearsay’ because they are unwritten,22

of oral history as legal evidence. Chief Justice Antonio

implying that societies without writing are inferior to

Lamer noted that

those with writing. “The laws of evidence must be adapted in order that Hansen effectively sums up the argument against oral

[oral] evidence can be accommodated and placed on

history, stating that “critics wary of oral history tend to

an equal footing with the types of historical evidence

frame oral history as subjective and biased, in comparison

that courts are familiar with, which largely consists of

to writing’s presumed rationality and objectivity. Such

historical documents.” To quote Dickson C.J., given that

assumptions ignore the fact that authors of written

most aboriginal societies “did not keep written records”,

documents bring their own experiences, agendas and

the failure to do so would “impose an impossible burden of

biases to their work—that is, they are subjective.”23

proof” on aboriginal peoples, and “render nugatory” any rights that they have (Simon v. The Queen, [1985] 2 S.C.R.

387, at p. 408). This process must be undertaken on a case-

committed has been destroyed as part of government-

by-case basis.”24

wide purges.26 The Catholic Church also resisted releasing their records because of existing privacy laws

For McEachern and many others, history is composed

in Canada, despite being mandated by the government

of verifiable facts that can be submitted to scrutiny. It

to do so.27 Furthermore, survivor testimony is itself often

is clear, however, that oral narratives have their own

equivocal, in that some former students had positive

standards of rigour: “The passing on of these stories from

experiences while others suffered abuse along with

generation to generation keeps the social order intact. As

feelings of confusion, fear and loneliness.

such, oral histories must be told carefully and accurately, often by a designated person who is recognized as holding this knowledge. This person is responsible for keeping

...much of the evidence of these crimes has been destroyed as part of government-wide purges.

the knowledge and eventually passing it on in order to preserve the historical record.”25

Writing about his experience with survivor testimony, Geoffrey Carr argues for the “need to mark differences

The problems of evidence signalled by Delgamuukw

between—on one hand—ambiguous and, at times,

similarly trouble the history of Indian Residential Schools.

contested student narratives and—on the other—

Not only did the churches and government separate

mentalities informing the ideological and technical fabric

children from their oral narratives by forbidding them

of the IRS.”28 These issues, coupled with the suppressed

to speak their languages and removing them from

and traumatic nature of much of the memory

their cultures, much of the evidence of these crimes

surrounding Indian Residential Schools, begin to

show the gaps in knowledge we are faced with when

These cases eventually led to the Indian Residential

thinking through this history.

Schools Settlement Agreement (IRSSA), the largest class-action settlement in Canadian history. The

From September 18 to 21, 2013, the Truth and

IRSSA established a fund for compensation to former

Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of Canada is hosting

students (called the common experience payment)

a National Event in Vancouver, BC. This is one of many

as well as the independent assessment process for

national and community events held across the country

those who experienced physical or sexual abuse

since 2009, which are meant to foster reconciliation

while attending an Indian Residential School. A health

between Canadians and First Nations, Inuit and Métis

support program for survivors was initiated alongside

peoples through a deeper understanding of the

a commemoration fund for memorial projects.31 Finally,

history and truth of Indian Residential Schools and

the TRC’s $60-million budget for mandated activities

what happened to the children who were taken there.

began in earnest in 2009 following Prime Minister

The TRC of Canada is unique in that it is the only truth

Stephen Harper’s 2008 apology to Indian Residential

commission to be court-ordered and supervised,29

School survivors and their families on behalf of the

owing to the “over twelve thousand individual abuse

Canadian government32 and will come to an end in

claims and several class-action lawsuits filed on behalf of

2014.33

approximately seventy thousand former Indian Residential School students against the federal government and

Many have noted how the work of the TRC has only just

church entities who shared joint responsibility for the

begun to address the process of healing the trauma

schools.”

inflicted by the IRS system, while others have pointed

to the re-traumatizing nature of the process wherein

The artworks and other materials in the NET-ETH:

survivors testify about abuses they suffered long ago.34

Going out of the Darkness exhibition speak about Indian

Of the independent assessment process specifically,

Residential Schools in the artists’ own voices, breathing

Regan notes that “the procedural requirements of civil

more complexity into the history than can be afforded

litigation make it difﬁcult for plaintiffs to fully describe

by text on a page. More than a history of the past these

those experiences that are not directly associated with

artists open up the question of the future telling of

the abuse but nevertheless have had a significant impact

Canadian history and in what ways the present moment

upon them. Moreover, civil litigation focuses on individuals

will shape it. How can the process of reconciliation

and cannot address the collective and intergenerational

unfold, what do we want it to look like? What is certain is

harms, such as loss of language and culture, which many

that we are all implicated.

students experienced.”35 Perhaps by following the pattern of oral history each Regan also argues for the need for those belonging to

fragment of memory will build a collective knowledge,

the settler culture of Canada to understand that the

creating a comprehensive yet nuanced narrative from

history of Indian Residential Schools belongs to larger

which future generations can learn.

processes of colonization, meaning that reconciliation is a process of decolonization for all people. It is a complicated matter fraught with difficulties and controversy36 that presents us with the challenge of parsing history in order to better understand it.

Architectural plan: Kuper Island Residential School, 1914, R.M. Ogilvie, architect. Ground floor. ÂŠ Indian and Northern Affairs. Reproduced with the permission of the Minister of Public Works and Government Services Canada, 2011. Source: Library and Archives Canada / Indian and Northern Affairs / RG22M 77803 / 111 Item 843.

Endnotes: 1. Shoshana Felman, “Education and Crisis: On the Vicissitudes of Teaching” in Cathy Caruth, ed., Trauma: Explorations in Memory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 16. 2. Debra Martel, personal communication, April 2, 2013. 3. Taiaiake Alfred, “Forward”, in Paulette Regan, Unsettling the Settler Within: Indian Residential Schools, Truth Telling, and Reconciliation (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2010), ix. 4. John Milloy, A National Crime: The Canadian Government and the Residential School System, 1879-1986 (Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1999), xiii – xiv. 5. Erin Hansen, “The Residential School System,” accessed May 13, 2013, http://indigenousfoundations. arts.ubc.ca/home/government-policy/the-residential-school-system.html. 6. Milloy, 39. 7. Hansen. 8. “A First Nations Perspective on the Importance of Hair”, accessed May 24, 2013, http://www.youtube. com/watch?v=2u-p8aiys0U. 9. Milloy, 169. 10. Ibid., 120. 11. Ibid., 52. 12. Ibid., 51. 13. Hansen. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. Regan, 45. 17. Regan, 4. 18. At the G20 Summit meeting in 2009, after he had made the official apology, PM Harper denies colonialism in Canada. See “Every G20 Nation Wants to be Canada, insists PM,” accessed May 13, 2013 http://www.reuters.com/article/2009/09/26/columns-us-g20-canada-advantagesidUSTRE58P05Z20090926. 19. Erin Hansen, “Oral Traditions”, accessed May 13, 2013, http://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/ home/culture/oral-traditions.html. 20. Ibid. 21. Hansen. 22. Bruce Granville Miller, Oral History on Trial: Recognizing Oral Narratives in Court (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2011), 6. 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Hansen.

26. Jorge Barerra, “Ottawa Fears Admission it Purposely Destroyed Indian Residential Schools Files Would Lead to Court Fights: Documents, APTN National News, May 1, 2013, http://aptn.ca/pages/ news/2013/05/01/ottawa-fears-admission-it-purposely-destroyed-indian-residential-school-fileswould-lead-to-court-fights-documents/. 27. Bill Curry, “Catholic Church Reluctant to Release Residential School Records”, The Globe and Mail, April 6, 2010, accessed May 10, 2013, http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/catholicchurch-reluctant-to-release-residential-schools-records/article4313878/. 28. Geoffrey Carr, “‘House of No Spirit’: An Architectural History of the Indian Residential School in British Columbia”, (PhD diss., University of British Columbia, 2011). 29. Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, “About the Commission”, accessed May 10, 2013 http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/index.php?p=39. 30. Regan, 6-7. 31. Regan, 7. 32. “Statement of Apology”, accessed May 10, 2013, http://www.aadnc-aandc.gc.ca/eng/1100100015644 /1100100015649. 33. For more information about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, visit http://www. trc.ca. 34. Sheila Whyte, “Some Big Questions for the Slow-Starting Commission”, CBC News, July 10, 2009, accessed May 10, 2013, http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/story/2009/07/10/f-trc-slow-start.html. 35. Regan, 9. 36. For a recent example, see Heather Scoffield, “AG report: Clock is ticking while infighting impedes Truth and Reconciliation Commission” Macleans, April 30, 2013, accessed May 15, 2013, http:// www2.macleans.ca/2013/04/30/ag-takes-aim-at-residential-schools-diabetes-prevention/.

Timing is everything: by Marie Price

In January 2011, I attended a Dialogue Forum hosted by the Industry Council for Aboriginal Business (ICAB) titled Leadership in Acts of Reconciliation for Industry and Business. The intent was to engage business leaders in a dialogue about the role of the business sector in responding to Canada’s apology to the survivors of the Indian Residential School System (June 2008) and in supporting the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC). The TRC’s mandate is to inform all Canadians about what happened in Residential Schools and is tasked with guiding and inspiring Aboriginal peoples and Canadians in a process of reconciliation and renewed relationships that are based on mutual understanding and respect.

The keynote speaker for the event was the TRC Chairperson, the Honorable Justice Murray Sinclair. Justice Sinclair was appointed to the Court of the Queen’s Bench of Manitoba in January 2001 and was Manitoba’s first Aboriginal Judge. He was appointed as the TRC Chairperson in 2009. He spoke about the suffering of Aboriginal peoples in Canada’s Residential Schools, the longstanding effects that government policy has had on this community and the need for public education. There were slides, statistics and profound sadness as all viewed with horror the years of neglect, abuse and indifference that characterized this under-reported and shameful part of Canadian history.

At the end of the presentation, ICAB Executive Director Brenda Ireland asked those present to consider what their act of reconciliation would be, what each of us could do on a personal level that would help to bridge the gap between the two communities, to assist in building a more equitable and mutually beneficial association.

On behalf of Malaspina Printmakers, I offered to initiate an exhibition of Aboriginal art work specifically on the topic of Indian Residential Schools as a way of telling the story that would acknowledge what Aboriginal peoples endured and provide a vehicle for public education.

By mounting this exhibition we hope to contribute to erasing that indifference and raising the awareness within Canada of the historical injustice, of the suffering and inhumanity that was forced on the Indigenous population for over 100 years.

biographies: Maxine thomas Pape

Contributor

Maxine Thomas Pape is a proud Saanich and Snuneymuxw woman and elder in training. Her personal history reflects a lifelong commitment to working within her culture and traditions with and for First Nations people. Maxine has a deep traditional knowledge of First Nations connection to the land and draws from this understanding within her roles as community development worker, advocate, facilitator, trainer, speaker, organizer, editor, curriculum developer, writer and mentor.

Marie Price

Contributor

Marie Price is a visual artist working in Vancouver, BC primarily in etching and woodcut print medium. Born and raised in Winnipeg, she completed her BFA at the University of Manitoba in 1977 and was a drawing instructor for many years at the Shadbolt Centre for the Arts in Burnaby. Marie is the past President at Malaspina where she has been a member since 1992.

Kim Cameron

Exhibition Team

Kim Cameron resides in Victoria, BC and works as a human resources professional. She has an exceptional record in serving as a dedicated volunteer and board member for both Aboriginal and American Indian organizations. Kimâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passion is in serving as an advocate, building relationships with individuals and organizations that acknowledge the importance of moving towards a mutually respectful society. Kim is an Anishinabe woman, born and raised in Winnipeg, is a member of the Long Plain First Nation, and comes from a family of talented musicians and artists.

Rose M. Spahan

Curator

Rose Spahan is an accomplished artist, teacher, curator, and a liaison for other First Nations artists. She has extensive experience working with First Nations peoples, groups and organizations to implement and direct projects pertaining to Indigenous cultural and artistic expression. Rose was raised within her Salish people’s territories on Vancouver Island, BC. She received her BFA, First Class Honours in 1989 from the University of Victoria and was the recipient of the Canadian Native Arts Foundation scholarship to attend the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Tarah Hogue

Curator

Tarah Hogue is a writer and curator of Dutch/Métis ancestry born in Red Deer, AB. She received a Bachelor of Art History from Queen’s University in 2008 and a Master of Art History in Critical Curatorial Studies from the University of British Columbia in 2012. Hogue co-curated No Windows, the first group exhibition at the Satellite Gallery in Vancouver (2011) and in 2009 co-founded The Gam Gallery, an exhibition space and artist studio located in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.

Lara EVans

Guest Writer

Lara Evans is a scholar, artist, and a member of the Cherokee Nation. She became a professor of art history and studio art at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington after completing a PhD in Art History at University of New Mexico in 2005. She is currently a Visiting Professor of Art History at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico for 2012-2014.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: by Justin Muir

Executive Director, Malaspina Printmakers Society

On behalf of the members, directors, and staff of Malaspina Printmakers, I would like to thank all of the people who have contributed to this very important project: Rose Spahan, Tarah Hogue, Maxine Pape, Lara Evans, Marie Price, Kim Cameron, Florene Belmore, Randall Gray, Brenda Ireland, Brenda Crabtree, Stewart Anderson and Geoffery Carr. This project would also not have been possible without the generous support of Vancity Credit Union, Emily Carr University of Art + Design, SkwachĂ ys Healing Lodge and the Urban Aboriginal Fair Trade Gallery, Vancouver Foundation, Canada Council for the Arts, BC Arts Council, Province of British Columbia and the City of Vancouver. I would also like to thank all of the artists who have contributed their work to the NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness exhibition and this catalogue.

The NET-ETH: Going out of the Darkness project provides an opportunity for healing through dialogue amongst many artists and audiences who have been affected in various ways by the Canadian Indian Residential School system. Participating in this process has produced much sadness, anger, regret, shame, remorse, and confusion.

Although it has been challenging, we are inspired by those who have overcome much pain and we admire their courage, determination, and patience. We are sincere in our commitment to increasing the programming of Aboriginal Canadian artists and we look forward to many more socially engaged projects in the future.

We gratefully acknowledge the contributions of our Sponsors:

NET-ULH:

“Going out of the darkness, at first daylight, when you pray and cleanse your tools to make them strong. Listen, we must listen, an important process of opening up to the light, opening up to intergenerational trauma so we all heal together.” —Ti Te-In, Shane Point Siem, Musqueam Elder

ISBN 978-0-96929-985-1 62495 >

9 780969 299851