Walking through the door to the Gibsons Public Art Gallery is like
going through a magic portal into the multidimensional worlds
of traditional Squamish territory, illustrated by dozens of choice
pieces of Squamish art: spirits of bears, sea monsters, and
eagles; talking sticks, drums, paddles, rattles, masks, tunics, a
brilliant red cedar killer whale table, and even a cleverly carved
line of fishing floats.
The art of BC’s first nations is recognized around the world as
a distinct movement and style, but sometimes this art form is
appreciated more abroad than it is at home. Do we fully realize
this artistic heritage of our own community is amongst our most
precious resources?
One of the fundamental messages in modern first nations art is
a discussion about cultural assimilation. The Anglo-American
empire once worked hard to wipe First Nations culture off the
map, assimilating a people into residential schools, banning
their language and customs, committing acts of genocide and
ethnocide. The suvival and recapture of that culture and its
renaissance has been a modern-day triumph. As a result of this
struggle the art has become even more powerful. We now see
Western Civilization being assimilated into the first nations style.
Bricollage, anthropologist Levis-Strauss called it: the act of
borrowing and/or reusing things for new purposes. This principle
is most evidenced by Brian Jungen, whose spirit masks made
from Nike shoes were exhibited at the Vancouver Art Gallery
in 2006. (Unfortunately, requests for images of Jungen’s work
to illustrate the principle were refused by his representative,
Catriona Jeffries.) Jungen’s Nike masks make reference to
cultural assimilation - and cultural bridging - as much as they refer
to the oppressed cultures where the shoes were made. The Nike
swoosh has the same elliptical arch form commonly appearing in
West Coast native art. The corporate logo is a reference to the
ancient mythological winged spirit of victory. But it’s hard to tell
which side Jungen considers the victor. He himself is first nations
(his mother is of the Dunne-Za nation, from the Peace River
district) but not of the coastal region from which the style he’s
borrowing originates.
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Most of the works on display at the GPAG are traditional in form and bricollage is in short
supply. (A string of old fishing floats, carved with Squamish images, may be one exception.)
The one marked bit of original humour in the Jungen spirit is a woven-cedar baseball cap, which
sits quietly beside other more traditional Salish woven-cedar hats. One wonders deeply what it
would be like to wear a cap like this, and to hear the rattle and the drums at a pow-wow. Who is
being assimilated, here? It is regrettable that the artisans are not noted - but their skill, humour,
and irony, are clear to enjoy.
The multi-layered discussion of artistic assimilation continues and may never end: Vancouver
Opera’s recent production of Magic Flute in a first nations style created a demand for a wholly
first nations style opera. Native designs bedeck Olympics sponsorship logos and even the
Canucks have encorporated a stylized first-nations killer whale motif onto their jerseys.
Amongst the works at the Gibsons Art Gallery this September, there is a display of traditional
carving tools. Some of the works were made with these tools, but some have been fashioned
with power tools like dremmels and chain saws. The tactility of the works gnaw at people, they
want to touch them, especially the tunics. Are they soft? What would it be like to wear a mask
or a tunic? But, as if this were a museum, Do Not Touch signs are posted everywhere; still the
tactile quality of the work makes people feel compelled to touch,
These first nations carvers are among the keepers of an entire culture, living within and amongst
our other cultures.
Considerations of the directions of cultural movements can unlock bounties of meaning when
viewing the craftsmanship on display at GPAG until Oct 8. The gallery is open Thursday -
Monday, noon - 4.
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