a collective blog by indigenous women photographers
"On a soul level, though, when I hold these items I am filled with gratitude for the woman who made them, because to some degree I owe my existence to her basketry expertise and her ability to sell the baskets in this newly imposed system of capitalism."
Not too much has changed in how we celebrate Christmas nowadays. Our families have grown. Between snags and sweeties, life long partners and broken hearts, we have built up our family enough that Mom's house is now much like Grandma Boyer's house was back in the day - full of laughter and food, cousins and stories.
However, over the past few weeks, I’ve been looking over in admiration at other artists more than I’ve been looking within, and although I want to get sit, sip and bring my ideas to fruition, I also want to celebrate the success of some kick-ass ladies working hard at that they love.
Since moving to the big city, much like Amanda in her last post, I’ve been experiencing some challenging transitions. Having this be my 4th move in one year and as a newcomer to the city, I definitely have my moments of longing to be back in a small community with all its laughter. Luckily, I… Continue reading Native Sistah’s Unite
Since my family and I moved from Alert Bay to Victoria, all I’ve been thinking about is how much I miss laughing with my friends up island. My first week back in the city I was texting them and telling them that people weren’t laughing at my stories. I was never much of a story… Continue reading Laugh with me
From the moment I jumped into the boat to head my Jijuu’s fish camp, I could literally feel my mind ease and my body begin to let go of tension and stress.
This class consists of eleven graduates, all from our little community of 900 people. To me, this class represents hard work, persistence and intelligence.
On the day that I was born, my Jijuu Christie Thompson gave me my Gwich’in name, “Gwikitch’ihkh’eh”, which means “In Return” because, as she said, I was the life given after his life was taken.
He was humble. He carried himself with a calm sense of confidence. He was a son and a brother. He was a man of the Lord.
I daydream a lot about the North. Perhaps it is because of all the stories my dad has told me about when he worked up there in his twenties. My dad still has a beautiful hand-made parka which he bought when he was up North. It has got to be at least 40 years old.… Continue reading Yellowknife known as Sǫ̀mbak’è (money place)
