Still: a photograph. A moment in performance. Still: First Nations people survive. Blatant injustices are not addressed. Still: Indians stand up and claim space. In that space the stories are re-told, re-interpreting what was assumed understood. The space becomes part of the moccasin telegraph: a gathering place, a communal council fire. Grievances are aired. Relations are shown. News of the community is examined, the larger community of Indianess considered...(for full curatorial statement see attached exhibition brochure below)
Archer and I have a history. He knows a couple of my secrets, I know a few of his. The nicest thing he ever said to me was, "You're not really a white guy; you've been slumming too long." I respect that. He's like me in some ways: he doesn't judge until he knows you. Like my Uncle George once said "You always give someone a chance. Once. It doesn't matter who they are, where they come from, what other people say; you judge them for yourself."
I have developed an ability to be able to figure out a camera and to know when to take a picture; in some ways it allows me to hide. To hide my tears, to hide my laughter... (for full artist statement see attached exhibition brochure below)