This past week marked Prince George's centennial, a benchmark aboriginal residents think of with concern for the future, at best, and hostility at worst.
Whatever the emotional foundation of each participant - dancers, carvers, beadworkers, painters, drummers - there was the vapour of prophecy in the air at CNC's Gathering Place, this week. As the college hosted a celebration of all-nations aboriginal culture, it was not their collected sciences or politics or industries that was forefront, but something else more personal in nature.
"Louis Riel once said 'My people will sleep for 100 years, but when they awake, it will be the artists who give them their spirit back'," said Leonard Paquette Jackson. He had a knife in his hand, and he was slashing and stabbing in rebellion. The flesh on the floor at his feet was not that of a colonial oppressor, it was wood whittlings. He had a commission to complete, being an acclaimed carver of native imagery. Like many others around him in the CNC atrium, he was creating on the spot. He was born Cree, a prairie nationality, but raised on Vancouver Island which is the influence he exhibits in his statues and regalia.
"There is a lot of swapping and sharing," he said. "It's a good thing. We put our hands out in welcome, in giving, not in taking anything. If you can't share, what's the point of doing art? - it's useless."
Another who was representing multiple cultures was Kelsey Abraham. He is a member of the Lake Babine Nation's frog clan, but he is a noted dancer and drummer of the Cree style. He and cultural colleague Donnie Mac (MacDonald) from Saskatchewan demonstrated this physically demanding and visually striking forms of expression. With painted faces and piercing music, dressed in resplendent uniforms of fur, feather, wood and leather (plus interfaced modern fabrics and accessories), they turned CNC into a prairie powwow.
"Every warrior dancer has their own style," said Mac. "When warriors back then would go hunting or have a battle, they would come back and tell their story through a dance, not language. These aren't random gestures. The movements tell a story. See if you can figure out what we are telling you."
"I started dancing when I was 5, 6, 7 years old," said Abraham. "I started by grass dancing. Usually at powwows, the grass dancers go first, to flatten the grass for the people."
He explained that each piece of his complicated regalia was given to him. One of the ways a dancer shows the progress of his or her skill is earning gifts of respect from others.
Another way to prove your cultural standing is to make the regalia items yourself. That is how Mac created his sacred costume. It requires careful study of multiple art forms. Mac said he grew up raised by his grandparents with little financial means. He started tinkering as a child as a way to turn broken toys and bicycles into things he could use, and that taught him resourcefulness and the value of work.
"Today, youth have it easier," he said to a group of children watching the event. "I am a self-employed artist, now, an entertainer. I feel very lucky to live my life this way, and be successful. Everyone wants to drive a Lamborghini or a Hummer, but family is more important. Success is living a good, healthy lifestyle."
Mac's niece was introduced to the audience, next. Hailey Gervais emerged dressed in a splendid and colourful regalia featuring ladybugs on the shimmering cape. She danced with Mac and Abraham, then danced a solo song. She is six years old.
"how do you feel when you dance?," Mac asked her, microphone in hand.
"Proud," she said, to a thunderous ovation.
Gervais was not the only child in the spotlight at the event. Three kids took up their violins and accompanied a group of elders for some fiddling. As a group, they meet each Wednesday at the Native Friendship Centre for lessons - old and young together.
"I love seeing how the kids progress. It just amazes me - their nimble fingers," said Jean Walker, one of the elder fiddlers. "They learn the music, and they learn their Metis culture at the same time."
Walker also had a display table with an array of leather items, demonstrating her moose tufting skills.
Free bannock (traditional aboriginal flatbread) was available, slathered in butter and jam. With this treat in hand, the public could wander among the many displays and talk with each artist. Most were elders, taking the opportunity to pass on the knowledge of their craft to others.
Julie Jacques, a member of the Takla frog clan, showed traditional beading.
Nadleh Whut'en caribou clan elder Roy Nooski showed his storytelling and herbal medicine skills.
Paige French, from the Takla frog clan, was also adept at medicines from the forest.
Mary Gouchie and Janet Kozak were on hand from the host Lheidli T'enneh First Nation to talk their dialect of the Dakelh language.
Bernard Andreason lives in this area now but he is from the Inuit culture of the Northwest Territories and hand-crafts dolls from traditional materials.
Michael Antoine demonstrated his mastery of wood carving.
At the young end of the spectrum was 20-something painter and carver Jason Edmunds, a Cheslatta frog clan member who was raised in Vanderhoof and is now in Prince George to eke out a living as an artist. He, like Gervais, like the many children in attendance, represented another statement made by Louis Riel in his aboriginal struggle to create an all-inclusive Canada. "We must cherish our inheritance," he said. "We must preserve our nationality for the youth of our future. The story should be written down to pass on."
For 100 years it has been, of forced cultural hibernation in the Dakelh - Tse'khene territories in and around Prince George extending to the Rockies and the Pacific, and a restoration is clearly going on, awakened by the artists of our shared region.
