Chris: France, you mentioned the other day that the Lekwungen welcoming was an essential part of our gathering. I concurred that we wanted to go beyond a simple land acknowledgement à la “we acknowledge that we are on the territory of…” The “going beyond” is critical so that this now familiar recitation does not simply become de rigueur, or a kind of politically correct, rote formality devoid of any context. Can you elaborate on why we needed to go beyond this formality?
France: Well, for me, the question of the land was central to how we would hold the gathering. That meant honouring the land, its creation stories, and its history. But it also meant recognizing the people of the land—the Lekwungen speaking people—their traditional governance systems, and their powerful protocols.
As an artist and curator of Kanien’kehà:ka and French ancestry, I was acutely aware that you and I were endeavouring to host 130 artists on someone else’s land. So it became imperative to seek the guidance of Lekwungen cultural leaders from the Songhees and Esquimalt First Nations. We did that, starting 16 months before the event. Thanks to their openness, we were able to develop Indigenous-inspired protocols for the whole gathering. This resulted in a remarkably grounding 3-hour welcome on the first morning.
As we were planning this opening session, I know that you strongly felt the necessity of honouring protocols and ceremonies from different cultures. What were, if any, the challenges of integrating those various elements without disrespecting our Indigenous hosts?
Chris: Yes… its always tricky to give appropriate respect to the land, the people whose territory we are on, and the protocols/ceremonies of their traditions AND to recognize the other artists in the room—Black artists and artists of colour, and also the few artists with settler backgrounds.
Creating space for everyone was inherent in our gathering and the presence of Indigenous elders and artists like Bradley Dick, our cultural carrier and MC, made that easier. I frequently feel the generosity of Indigenous people when I am working with them and it never fails to amaze me. They embraced these artists and the complexity of their artistic visions, their ceremonies, their rituals of welcoming.
The Indigenous artists felt respected, and so in turn, they then respected another group, then another, and another, and so on…it seemed with each cultural welcoming we were building a powerful, collective momentum. When Diane Roberts asked those assembled to “wander” with her and folks accepted to simply sing as they walked in the circle, there were more than a few tears in the room, some from Indigenous eyes.
First Peoples went first, where they belong. No one tried to displace anyone; there was no competition for best welcoming! This 3-hour Indigenous-influenced ceremony worked really well. It grounded all of us on the land, in the place, in jet-lagged bodies.
Yet some of our other plans were a little jagged; you mentioned some artists felt constrained by our discussion topics… how so?
France: From the start, we were committed to designing decolonial methods, even if at times we were uncertain of how to ensure peoples’ buy-in. We focused on reframing the concept of knowledge-sharing by decentering the authority of the “expert.” Participants were also asked to be presenters—“experts”—but without the colonial tools of the trade: no keynotes, no PowerPoint presentations, no panels, no prepared notes. The idea was to pair two artists and ask them to generate and then facilitate a conversation on a specific topic.
As you will remember, for some participants, this process felt uncomfortable. They wanted to know more about precisely how they would be asked to contribute to the conversation.
For this curated event, we spent hours, days, weeks identifying the topics and pairing the right artists who could inspire and guide the exchanges. It was a giant puzzle with over fifty different creation/conversation sessions, each one centering on a specific way of knowledge-sharing: intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual. We chose the topics carefully, inspired by the many consultative conversations in which we had previously engaged in six different regions in 2016. While a majority of participants enthusiastically embraced our “unorthodox,” decolonial methodology for organizing the exchanges, some artists felt uncomfortable with the fact that the topics were imposed.
The other sentiment that was shared by a few people was the difficulty of choosing from all the concurrent sessions. Was the schedule too crowded?
Chris: Depends how you look at, I guess. Some participants were a little distressed, faced with a choice between eight different sessions. Looking back, maybe eight was too many! I would suggest six as a more appropriate choice.
Other folks found the number of choices invigorating, and that selecting was a delight which enhanced the sensation of “abundance” we tried so hard to create with the food, hotel, and many events. Participants could modulate between speaking, feeling, thinking, moving their bodies, listening to an artist talk, or even just walking the land. They felt full.
You are correct to say that a minority of participants felt uncomfortable with no advanced preparation, but this “planned spontaneity” coaxed out improvisational exchanges, which was refreshing! Was it truly decolonizing? I am not sure… but it was a nudge in that direction, encouraging steps that are being taken, however tentatively, throughout the Canadian art system.
We may finally be glimpsing necessary institutional changes on the horizon. Are institutions reformable? Can they really be Indigenized or decolonized? Or are art institutions themselves the problem?
France: You are right to say that this gathering was only an attempt at decolonizing methodologies. When applied to the Canadian art system, terms like decolonization and Indigenization are often misunderstood and misused, not to mention conflated with notions of inclusion. Many of our colleagues would argue that it is impossible to Indigenize institutions—museums, for example—that were an intrinsic part of the colonial project.
Yet, I personally think that these institutions, including universities, must play a critical role in telling all the “truths” about our collective history, while exploring the complexities of who we are and imagining who we can be. Which, in its own way, were the objectives of the Primary Colours/Couleurs primaires gathering. For me, it is also about creating a space for conversations between Indigenous artists and artists of colour imagining what (re)conciliation could look like; about how similar histories of colonization can inform the “Canadian” experience; about the ways in which these “other” stories complexify the Canadian narrative.
Do you feel that these conversations were present throughout the gathering?
Chris: Well, I mostly agree, but sort of disagree with you at the same time! I recognize that we urgently need the “space” to which you refer in order to encourage more conversations among Indigenous people, Black people, and people of colour (IBPoC). Too often these dialogues have been mediated by whiteness—for example, Indigenous peoples vs. settlers or Black vs. White discussions about racism. It is as if all conversations need to pass through the dominance of whiteness—of Eurocentricity—in order to be validated. I do agree with you that we need more thoughtful discussions, conversations, meetings, and discourses among IBPoC.
However, I wonder about the phrasing “similar histories of colonization.” As you know, the term “people of colour”—which in the USA includes Indigenous peoples—has been a useful shorthand to describe various folks who live with racism. But this term is clearly inadequate to dig into the particular specificities of colonial stories/scenarios. As you have said many times, this is what Indigenous people on the land called Canada have insisted from the get-go. And now, with the important rise of Black Lives Matter building on decades of Black art practices and insightful scholarship, there is an accurate insistence on seeing “blackness” (for a whole host of reasons including slavery) as a unique, distinct, Afrocentric history within any larger evaluation of the racist, colonial, planet-wide project.
So, yes, the PC/Cp exchanges among us folks who have been the casualties of colonialism are important, generative, and often uncover hidden anecdotal events that are relevant to contemporary Canada. But these exchanges also reveal the stark differences of colonial narratives, the ways in which it is painfully difficult to discuss them, and how necessary it is to approach this delicateness without the cumbersome weight of white fragility.
Hey France, we are approaching our word limit now…any last thoughts?
France: I would like to conclude our banter with a few words about the poly-vocality we have adopted in our reporting. To be consistent with the notion of decentering author(ity), we extended an invitation to all session leaders to write short essays summarizing their personal experience and the conversations they facilitated. This approach allows for multiple, complex, and sometimes contradictory accounts of the exchanges that took place during the 4-day gathering. By respecting, through this series of essays, different points of view, we hope to tell the story of the gathering in a more comprehensive and transparent way.
Nia:wen’ko:wa
Thank you to Shawn Van Sluys (Musagetes/ArtsEverywhere) for graciously inviting these essays to the ArtsEverywhere platform. Thank you to Rachel Collins (ArtsEverywhere) and Breanna Fabbro (PC/Cp) for the complex work involved in making that invitation come to life.
"I am grateful to many artists - mostly women - who came before me, insisting that Indigenous artists and artists of colour be recognized with proper resources to create artworks. I am grateful for IBPoC artists - many of them millennials - who today continue this historical endeavour, often working in intersectional ways. They inspire me.”
Chris Creighton-Kelly is an interdisciplinary artist, writer and cultural critic born in the UK with South Asian/British roots. His performative, usually ephemeral, artworks have been presented across Canada, in India, Europe and USA. He has received grants and awards in five countries. Chris has been persistently interested in questions of absence in art-making. Whose epistemology is unquestioned? Who has power? Who does not? Why not?
For over 30 years, he has worked as an arts consultant for artists; arts organizations and institutions; government agencies in Canada and internationally. In 1989-91, Chris was a consultant to the Canada Council on issues of cultural/racial equity. His work launched the formation of two critical offices – the Aboriginal Arts Office and the Equity Office that have subsequently led the way in transforming the Council from a mostly European arts agency to one in which multiple art traditions and practices are funded. In 1991-92, he worked at the Banff Centre designing and directing a 20 artists’ residency, Race and the Body Politic which indirectly influenced the establishment of the Aboriginal Arts program.
In 2011, he co-authored, along with France Trépanier, Understanding Aboriginal Art in Canada Today. In 2012, they were co-recipients of the inaugural Audain Aboriginal Curatorial Fellowship awarded by Art Gallery of Greater Victoria.
Chris appreciates his audiences a lot.
France Trépanier is a visual artist, curator and researcher of Kanien’kéha:ka and French ancestry. Her artistic and curatorial work has been presented in many venues in Canada, the US and Europe. France was the Aboriginal Curator at Open Space Arts Society in Victoria BC, where she is co-curated, with Michelle Jacques and Doug Jarvis, the exhibition Deconstructing Comfort. She also curated the Awakening Memory Project with artists Sonny Assu, lessLIE and Marianne Nicolson. France was the co-recipient of the 2012 Inaugural Audain Aboriginal Curatorial Fellowship by the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria. She co-authored with Chris Creighton-Kelly Understanding Aboriginal Art in Canada Today: a Knowledge and Literature Review for the Canada Council for the Arts. Her essays and articles have been published in numerous journals and magazines. France is co-chair of the Indigenous Program Council at the Banff Centre. She worked at the Canada Council for the Arts before becoming a Senior Arts Policy Advisor for the Department of Canadian Heritage. She held a diplomatic post as First Secretary, Cultural Affairs at the Canadian Embassy in Paris. She directed the Centre for New Media at the Canadian Cultural Centre in Paris. France was also the co-founder and Director of the artist-run center Axe Néo-7 in Gatineau, Quebec.
Thank you to Shawn Van Sluys (Musagetes/ArtsEverywhere) for graciously inviting these essays to the ArtsEverywhere platform. Thank you to Rachel Collins (ArtsEverywhere) and Breanna Fabbro (PC/Cp) for the complex work involved in making that invitation come to life.
Banner image: photo by Amory Hall
