I feel quite honoured to be part of the Bury My Art At Wounded Knee exibit. This exhibit is a forthcoming Native north american art exhibition that highlights resistance strategies on and off the imaginary boundaries of modern day Indian Reservations. Really, I submitted to this because I am committed to the actions and intentions that I see are the blood and guts of Bury My Art, that is, reoccupying privileged spaces to exert our authority and sovereignty over every aspect of our very being (the land, our own persons/body, our own means of producing and representing, etc.) 
I have witnessed first hand how colonialism makes the "native" visible  in new, twisted and disturbing ways both to the colonizer and to the colonized. We can think of the many ways that colonial governments and their agents have and continue to exhibit the materiality of Indigenous Peoples in order to make them "present" (e.g. naming, registering to "Band" lists, dressing, educating, etc.); however, every Indigenous Nation has its own history of countering colonialism on the visual/material battlefield. We have always had our own ways of making ourselves visible and as we think, produce, and circulate/share we are continuing to strengthen our base for asserting power over colonial rule.

I just got back from the site we have set up for tanning moose hides using the traditional process of, what Gerry calls "eating the brains" (aka "brain tanning"). I haven't had much of an opportunity to get my hands dirty because my role is to create a visual document of the process--a video to be shared with community. 
What I find really interesting about this project is the way I am looking and moving in relation to those who are getting their hands dirty. There is a definite rhythm and pattern to the work of tanning moose. Yesterday it was sharpen, scrape, stop, listen, wipe, look and repeat. Today it was rub, squeeze, pull and repeat. Each day the sound and movement may change but as people work together they seem to choreograph their own routine. And as the tanners work on this routine, I find that their harmony bleeds into my own processes of collection and creation. When they listen to our teacher, I look up from the camera and stop and listen; as they sharpen their tools before they return the hide, I almost squint, sharpening my sight and thinking forward to a new frame. They are thinking of getting the blade to the right point so that the flesh rolls off and I am thinking of getting the camera into the right place to film an interesting and engaging piece of this film puzzle.  Yes, cultural activity works its way into the style and practice of the visual creator...and we need to let it in if we are to engage in art that is decolonizing. 

I designed this pair of slipper style moccasins for a friend of mine, Stephanie. When someone asks me to do a pair for them, I like to know what colour preferences they have, whether or not they want a fur trim, what kind of fur they like, etc. This way I can better personalize the pair. Well, when I asked Stephanie what colours she favoured, she didn't respond with "blue" or "purple". Her response was that her family was from Ireland and Scotland. 
And so, I decided to design her a pair that acknowledged her family history. Given that my Anishinabeg ancestors designed their beadwork from flora and fauna found in our home territories, I did some research on plants that are significant to Stephanie's ancestral territories. Moving beyond any official "State" flower that one typically associates with these countries (Scottish thistle, clover) I decided on a plant called Cloudberry. Cloudberry is indigenous to northern parts of Europe and is also found in northern Canada. It is likely that Stephanie's ancestors harvested this berry. 
The plant is growing away from Stephanie to acknowledge her new role as a mother-one who carries life inside her, brings life into the human world, and then looks after it.  
The mocs are now en route to Stephanie and I hope that she likes them. I also wonder what she will think about when she looks down at her cloudberries. Will she think about her ancestors? Will she think about what roles and responsibilities these men and women carried and how these changed as new settlers in a new foreign territory (Canada?) Will she think about my ancestors and the people who have been making beautiful, practical things from materials indigenous to our land since time immemorial? Will she want to know about how their lives have changed? What will she tell people when they look at her slippers? What will she tell her children? 
I hope the mocs fit :)