Up in Vancouver at the OR Gallery until 23 April 2016 is Wood Land School Critical Anthology, an exhibition made from the remains of the Wood Land School Critical Anthology Symposium. It was an honour to participate in the symposium, presenting my paper-in-progress, “From Where Do You Speak?: Locating the Possibility of Decolonization in Krista Belle Stewart’s Seraphine Seraphine.” The weekend of talks brought together artists and curators to address the lack of critical writing on the work of contemporary Indigenous artists. The presentations worked collectively to advance the discourse around Indigenous contemporary art practices. Ultimately, these papers will cohere into an anthology co-published OR Gallery, SFU Galleries and UBC Press at the end of 2016.
Wood Land School is an ongoing project with no fixed location and a shifting form. It seeks critical engagement within the realms of representation, film, contemporary art, land, and politics on Turtle Island and beyond. Each iteration of Wood Land School carries forth with it a commitment to address the lack of structural inclusion, both historically and in the now, in a multiplicity of institutional spaces. It is a conceptual and physical space for Indigenous people, with Indigenous people deciding its directions, structures and functions. An important aspect of Wood Land School is the inclusion of non-Indigenous people, so as not to exclude anyone interested in engaging with the complexities of the aforementioned issues.
For my contribution, I look closely at Krista Belle Stewart’s two-channel video installation Seraphine, Seraphine (2015). As presented at Toronto’s Mercer Union in 2015, three distinct perspectives consider how the Canadian settler colonial project has unfolded. First, there is a 1967 CBC docu-drama that follows Stewart’s mother, Seraphine, through the final stages of her nursing education. Second, there is footage from Seraphine’s participation in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s 2013 events in Vancouver BC. Approaching the documents as found footage, Stewart edits between them, creating a third document: an artwork steeped in the tension of what remains unsaid between the two screens, heavy with the weight of stories retold in such disparate circumstances, constructing a complex portrait of her mother through Seraphine’s softly commanding presence in both situations. Within the overlapping narratives of settler colonialism evoked in Seraphine, Seraphine, it becomes clear that adequately grappling with this gruesome inheritance will involve a complimentary measure of Indigenous self-determination and settler decolonization.
The presentations of my colleagues were stellar and I cannot wait to encounter their ideas again in the book, re-articulated through the lens of discussions we shared together over the weekend. As my dear friend Amy Kazymercyk summarized, our weekend together left these kinds of impressions: friendship, kinship, feral, feminine bush, formation, braiding theory, weave memory, residue, silence, refusal, abdominal pain, crying therapy, gut, intimacy, fisting, withdraw, rejective.