Transcript: ILLUMINATING WORLDVIEWS on The Art That Reclaims Us S1:4
Ayana Young Over the past few months, I have journeyed to the Yukon in partnership with Illuminating Worldviews. Illuminating Worldviews serves as a space to examine the worldviews amidst which we find ourselves and see how they actively shape the material realities of our lives. This project, rooted and colored by the land of the Yukon, makes space for questioning, examination and future visioning centered in Indigenous ideology and the sentiment of journeying. In person and on the land, I had the chance to speak with incredible thought leaders with deep connections to the Yukon—all with a live audience in the beautiful city of Whitehorse except for the last event, which was in Dawson City. Though this series is deeply local, it has broad implications for our culture as a whole, and I'm so excited to share it with you.
This series was produced thanks to the generous support of the team at Illuminating Worldviews held by the River collective and the Northern Council for Global Cooperation. We are so grateful to the organizers, speakers and audience members who made this series possible, and also a very big thank you to the land of the Yukon, the boreal forest, the rivers, the lakes. I am honored to have been asked to be part of this.
In this episode, I'm joined by Aubyn O'Grady and Jackie Olson to discuss art, creativity, and work that transforms our relationship to place through creation. This was my last trip to the Yukon for this project. This was the last trip to the Yukon for this project, and seeing the seasons change throughout the series was just beautiful. I was left really moved by spending time on the land with these amazing people and being able to slow down on these long road trips and process all that I was learning.
Dr. Aubyn O'Grady is the program director of the Yukon School of Visual Arts in Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in Territory, Dawson City, Yukon. Aubyn's research creation practice is concerned with artist-led schools, the ethics of site specific and land based artworks, and artist engagements with rural places.
Jackie Olson was born and raised in Dawson City and is a citizen of the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in First Nation. Trained as a painter, Jackie received a BFA from the Alberta College of Art in 1992 and has been creating and learning new artforms since. Jackie's work has been featured in exhibitions across Canada, including the Walter Phillips Gallery, HarcourtHouse, and a recent solo exhibition at the ODD Gallery.
Jackie Olson Every step of the way is a process, even to the weaving there is a process to it. That time it takes you to break down all those materials and look at what you have available is going to guide you in how everything comes back together. This is the spot you should be because it will never be disturbed and once you build your willow farm, you will have that willow.
Ayana Young Hello, everyone. Feels nice to be at this point of a hot day where we can just relax and feel the cool breeze and get into some deep conversation with each other, and I'm looking out at each other, the audience, because at some point we're going to open this up, and it'd be really wonderful to hear some of your voices chime into this conversation with the three of us.
But for now, it's going to be us three up here, and I had the pleasure of having a tour of SOVA today, and I was so...I just felt so good being in that space. It was clean and bright, and the energy could move so freely there. And I'm really grateful to you two and anyone in the room who has been a part of making this happen. It's such a gift to the community, and I think the wider world as a space where we can come together and explore together through our thoughts and our creativity and our hearts. So just wanting to give a moment of gratitude for this space that's been tended by this community.
So I want to start off here, think of it as personal. I think it's always so refreshing when we talk from our personal experiences because it's what we know. And I'm thinking about the dimensions of art education and how they've shaped you both, and maybe more particularly, if you could speak to the experiences you've had with the land here and how that has shaped your craft. And Aubyn, we're starting with you.
Aubyn O’Grady All right, well, I have lots to say about art education, as you might imagine, but speaking from experience which I really appreciate that invitation because it's kind of nerve wracking sitting in front of this group of people even though I know all of you.
But I would say, my experience with art education and thinking about it critically started when I was a student at SOVA in 2011. And I had loved school, and then I had entered into the post-secondary, and I struggled a lot. So I came to SOVA already with a university experience, and when I traveled through that program with the cohort and was taught by Veronica Berkeley and a whole bunch of other really kind people, that kind of blew apart what I thought education could do. I saw these moments...We were invited to take real responsibility for our thoughts and ideas, and then, and develop a language and articulate that and explain that and talk to people. And I think maybe that was the experience, then I just chased that.
I went to grad school and I studied education, and I thought about art schools as places that gave....That were really sites of radical thought, like where the most interesting thinking was happening because it was full of artists. And then, I started chasing after stories of art schools that had been started by artists. And then, and then I had, like, the greatest privilege of coming back to SOVA and taking the reins, and then actually studying the history of its development, and as a really radical thing, right? There's a bunch of community members that came together, envisioned an entire curriculum, and then, made a school happen.
So then I was able to intertwine my own work at the school with really critically thinking about what it means to have an art school in this place, like on this land, on this territory, and what it means to have the version of curriculum that we deliver, and how that relates to this place, or how it brushes up, or, like, causes friction. And it definitely causes friction.
Yeah, I've been lucky enough to be working at SOVA, and also thinking about it as my own artist material, which has, like, guided a lot of the work outside of...or my artwork that I produce. I'm not a high producer anymore, but I do think about the university walls and institutional walls and and, you know, all the policies, all the meetings as material to be able to shift and guide and sculpt.
And then in terms of land and our relationship to this place, I've had so many humbling lessons. And I was maybe struggling a bit to connect what we're doing at SOVA with actually being responsible for the students that we bring in, with being responsible stewards and guests and hosts, and thinking about what responsibility we have to bring people here to this territory. And I've learned a lot of lessons about that, but I think since Jackie has joined us, we were able....Jackie's thinking in theory and pedagogical approach has really helped us to ground a lot of the direction that we've been taking towards more place-based and land-based thinking about going outside, about letting our students have saws and [Laughter]. Like, some, you know, institutionally risky behaviors, but actually not—like spiritually fulfilling behaviors and pursuing that. I think that's where I'll end it.
Jackie Olson Saws, huh? What about those axes? Yeah. [Laughter] Thank you. Thanks everyone for coming. It's great to see all the familiar faces. Yeah, you know Dawson is my home. Was born and raised here, and lived my life running the streets like most Dawsonites. You know, I always tell people I grew up in swamps and relics because it was all swamp land, you know. And when the rush was over, the dredges shut down. Everything just was left where it was, so it was our playground. And the other part of me, my grandma and grandpa, they lived on the land. They were born on the Dempster, and they lived on the Dempster, but they traveled all over this traditional territory. So it was always a journey to go and find them, and I love those days when we went to find where they were.
So, you know, that's my connection with the land, and I feel so fortunate that my grandparents lived into their hundreds and pretty much lived on the land their whole lives. So, you know, it was just natural, right? You don't think about the politics of society when you're growing up as a kid. And off, I went to art school. I wasn't an artist. I was just going to be an administrator. And lo and behold, I come back as an artist with a degree in painting. I still do two dimensional work, but there's no paint in it now. And that was one of the things that really kind of was picking at my brain when I was in school—the abundance of materials that we used every day that just went into a garbage can, you know? And it was just overwhelming to see that and to...And I never even really thought about environment, but it's something that hit me in my heart.
So when I get back here and we're getting the art scene moving, and great things are happening. And that's the beauty of Dawson, you know, as a community, and I believe strongly in community. Together, we can move mountains, and we've moved a lot of mountains, and we've made a lot of things happen for our little town. And very grateful that we have like-minded people that choose to live here. And the arts have really brought a wonderful new fabric to our crazy little community. You know, we're eclectic, I say, but we all get along in the sandbox most days. And, yeah, it creates a really nice space to be able to envision things and to actually make things happen. And you're not alone. And I think, you know, I was so grateful to be able to work with Aubyn because she just sat and listened to me, as I yapped on.
And I was like, Why not? Why not? And you know, when you're working in an institution, it's really hard to step out of those boundaries and say, "Yeah, why not?" You know? And it's like, "Oh, well, you can't. You can't. You know, liabilities and all this stuff." And it's like, Who cares? I mean, we're working with adults. Yes, they're young adults, most of them, but come on. They got to have some responsibility for themselves. You know, we had to be responsible for ourselves when we were very little, running around this town.
And I sat on the governance council for years, and we struggled with how to bring land-based education, how to bring, you know, First Nations perspective, and how to bring those values into everyday life at SOVA. And I think we're making great headway, and our students are thriving, and they love the opportunity to be on the land. Most people, I find a lot of people grow up in the cities, and they don't have that opportunity. They don't see the beauty that's right in front of them. And so I kind of, you know, say, "Okay, look, we're going to build a relationship with this land." And they're all looking at me like, What? Relationship? "Yep, you know, you're gonna pick some stuff. You're gonna be respectful. You're going to build a relationship with that Willow you just picked off the ground. And you're not going to take more than you need, and if you take a lot, you're going to use it all, right? So be aware of your abilities." And they're very cautious at first because it's new ground. And, you know, not even halfway through the the day, they're like, Wow, you know, I get to do this. And they're so excited. And I just love that energy.
And I always think...You know, I'm not the instructor that's going to teach them everything. I learned a lot from them as well because when you've got that many brains in one area, there's a lot, you know? And they bring curiosity, and they bring questions, which allows me to think about it. You know—a bird building a nest, "Hmm, never really thought about it." But I had to think about it, right? And it goes back to the general practices of art. You know, you start it with broad strokes, big, big, you know, broad strokes, and then you start to get into the intricacy of it. So, yeah, it's just using land as a way to start the conversation for art, and also using what's available to you.
I believe in recycling. You know, like, use what you have. Don't create more garbage. And the other thing is being humble because when you create a piece of art. It's not the end all and be all. You know, it's your first step on your journey of being an artist, and you need to be okay with letting it go. Sometimes that could be a tough lesson right off the bat. You know, foundation year, they keep everything. God, I still got stuff in a box somewhere, you know. So being able to let go about documenting, using today's technology, those types of things. And, yeah, their energies inspires me to do my stuff as well. I have to walk the walk, walk the talk.
Ayana Young Jackie, as you were speaking, it reminded me of a quote that I came across in preparation of this talk, and I wish I memorized the quote, but it was something about process, the artistic process, and how important that is. And I feel like you were speaking to that in indirect ways. And I'd love to hear from both of you, and maybe Jackie, if you want to start, just to speak to the importance of process. And if there is...Is there a specific process that you like to teach, or is it always moving with the materials that you're working with?
Jackie Olson Yeah, it all depends on the materials. Like, for me, art is a life journey, right? So I'm constantly wanting to learn different ways of working with materials, and then I figure out how I can bring that into what I'm doing. And process is the most important part of art making in my mind because it's the physicality of working with materials. And I think that's why I like to work with natural materials. And nature has its own entity and its own spirit. And I often...I always say that, you know, "Your materials will fight with you," you know. So you need to be open, and you need to build that relationship, and you need to be able to shift. You know, we have to be able to adapt to what's in front of us, and if you can't do that, you're going to struggle. And yeah, and I think taking that time. Like making paper, it seems easy, but it's a very long process. Every step of the way is a process, even to the weaving as a process. Like thinking about how your materials come together out of one willow—that's a process, and it's a thinking process because that time it takes you to break down all those materials and look at what you have available is going to guide you in how everything comes back together?
Aubyn O’Grady Yeah, I feel like the way that you teach 2d Studio—which is like our students go out, spend the first couple weeks gathering materials. But the process is so embedded in that and and not fully clear steps on why they're doing such hard work. But at the end, like, one of our students, parents that just graduated, said, "Oh, they're never going to look at a piece of paper in the same way again." Like, after you've just been like, gathering fibers, boiling them, yeah, you really care about those pieces of paper, and then, and then by proxy, like by extension, care about the artwork that's made, like, really deeply,
Jackie Olson Yeah. I think that's with the inks as well because we did natural inks and making pigments. And, you know, suddenly they're looking at their food, you know. And it's the same with paper, you know, if it's fibrous, you can make paper from it.
So everything in your mind just kind of switches. I remember that when I was going to school in Victoria, of being open to the world in front of you and looking at things from a different perspective, you know? Oh, that's just a twig on the ground, but if you kind of switch and you start to look at it, it changes, right? And that's for everything that's out there.
Like I was in Vegas. I got dragged off to Vegas. "No, I got homework to do." "No, no, no, you come." So I'm down there, and there was all that, you know, the New Vegas world on that different street or whatever. And so there was a lot of construction and I remember looking at this little nylon rope that was sticking out of the ground in all different directions. And I was just fascinated with that, and I'm like, Oh, my God, I'm an art student.
Aubyn O’Grady Yeah, I think maybe that's something that we share in common, or something that I've kind of gleaned from you, is like looking...really chasing those moments that switch your perspective. And then, I guess my process...If I think about the word 'process,' I don't think about my practice as being process-based. I think about my practice as being like a series of getting stopped or stunted and then trying to figure out ways to get around that. Or finding places where there's friction or tension, where worldviews meet, where disciplines meet, where things that aren't really...that exist alongside each other, but that could be connected.
That stuff's really interesting to me, and I try and bring that into what we do at SOVA. Like we really aren't quite intentional about what we invite our students into, and how we would like them to be as guests here, but then also, we kind of switch that and think about them as hosts eventually, too, because the community does such a good job of welcoming and placing people here. And then, those moments of friction or tension or when I look beyond SOVA, and I look as an artist here, as a community member and someone who loves this place really deeply, like, Where aren't we allowed to go to? Like, what aren't we talking about? Or, why can't we talk about that? Or, like, why can't we be in this building? Why is there so much tension between the plaster mining industry and like, and then other elements of the community? And so, can we figure out a platform or a way to connect and talk to one another? Find a place of understanding, in a respectful way, in a loving way, in a way that extends all the love that we share towards this community? Yeah, those are the moments that I've been chasing, I think, so far.
Ayana Young And maybe art is one of the only spaces that can bring those hard conversations to a place of softening or creativity, or...You know, it's a bit indirect, maybe, which can invite people in to be able to talk about hard things or things that they feel divided about.
I also live in a small town and understand that most of us actually really love the space that we live. And even those of us who think the other side or the other, some other people, aren't protective. I think a lot of people actually are thinking that they are protecting the community and the home that they love. And so, you know, it's like, how do you find those places of unification and common threads? And how do you talk about the hard things? And how do you create something together—invite people into a space where everyone can feel like they're being heard and that they matter? Because I think that's something else that I've noticed, that people get really triggered if they feel that other people think that they're not valuable, their opinions don't matter, their ideas are bad, and that they're just generally ostracized from the future planning of where they call home.
And I know that the two of you have probably a lot to say on this and have...Like what you were saying, kind of gotten into the mud and wrestled with these ideas of how to bring people together and invite folks to create a future that's beautiful, and also it also meets people where they're at. So maybe we could talk about how art could be that invitational space to start having hard conversations, or, let's just say, continue the hard conversations about how to live together, especially in rural places.
Jackie Olson Yeah, definitely, I think, you know, as a small community, and whether people come for this summer or whatever, you become a part of this community. And I think as individuals, we should all be aware of what we're contributing. You know, every step we take, we're impacting somehow. So how do we open the doors for dialog? How do we create the language where artists can talk to miners? You know, which is kind of where we ended up because it really irked me that our land is being eaten up and pushed aside, and there's no thought as to what goes back. And that's because the regulations just say mound it over. But is that enough? Right? And maybe that's a conversation with the governments, the powers that be, but that's not going to go anywhere.
So I like to pull it back and like, Why can't we just go and start? You know, in reality, the miners don't have surface rights. As a Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in, I can go and plant trees and flowers and wherever I want, right? Put my berries back. You know, my elders can't go get berries because they're too far. So let's make our land that's accessible and already disturbed into something that is sustainable and useful for us. So that was my initial approach, right? And so how can we engage miners? Because you want to have that relationship with them. You don't want to have the angst because we're not going to get anywhere with that, right?
So, yeah, we decided maybe we would start there. We started easy. You know, I know Favrons And so I went and talked to them about, Did they have somewhere in their block of claims that has been reclaimed and that they wouldn't mind putting a willow farm? Right. And they were all interested in that, and they were already thinking about protection of that willow down the road. You know, because the powers that be can come in and wipe it all out in one swoop, and it would, they wouldn't care, right? But the way they think about the land, and the way they know their little piece of claims—this is the spot you should be because it will never be disturbed. And once you build your willow farm, you will have that willow, right? So it was already a good start, and it kind of opened doors for other discussions with other miners in the area.
[Musical break]
Aubyn O’Grady We've started a project where we're thinking about occupying the gold fields and other places that have been mined with land art. So being either part of the reclamation process at the end or being invited into planning at the beginning. And thinking about moving the earth around in the same ways that mining moves the earth around, but into something esthetic and accessible and restorative and that is at a scale that we don't often get to, that all of us think at, but don't often get to work at. And, in a way, you know, restoring the sacredness back to these sites, restoring people back to them.
And, yeah, we're still at the beginning of it. So the willow farm was like our step in and really grateful to the Favrons for allowing us out there at the front of their mine. We bring our students out there to gather willow, we cook dogs out there, and we spend lots of time out there just looking around, watching how things grow. Jackie's been experimenting with making these willow arches, so that we can grow a fresh, straight willow that is like easier to work with, both as a sculpture material and as like for paper making it just it feels important when we're out there, you know, when you're driving down hunger, you can see landscape has changed and how it has been impacted. And it feels really restorative to be out there with a group of people that are really learning to love how to be in that place, and how to make artwork out there. And then the goal, the great vision, is to, you know, occupy sites, to have a map and to see sculpture, things moved around in a way that is artful and community building and connected.
Ayana Young One thing I've noticed thinking about plants and restoration reclamation is how many plants I know that I use that do really well in disturbed places, and I feel like they come into disturbed places to be accessible and to be seen and to...Like the plant world knows how to restore on their own, and it's just beautiful to see that and to feel taken care of in that way as a human. And so I could imagine what it would be to go into places that have been damaged, terraformed, and to create sites of medicine, berries—abundance that could very well grow there again.
And I feel really personally drawn to this project. I spent many years in the temperate rainforest regions of the lower 48 in the States, and was working with redwood forest and temperate rainforest down there, and there's so much push to restore. But the restoration was really based off the logging industry, so it wasn't about restoring for art or community even, but it was, how do you restore for the next harvest? But that…I really am drawn to what you're speaking to is it's restoring in a place-based, community-based way that also has that magic of art. So I guess, you know, sitting here and just loving this idea, I'm like, Well, what are the roadblocks? What are the challenges? And what are ways that you see through these challenges to making this reality of the map and the many spaces fulfilling that vision?
Jackie Olson Well, I mean, there's many. [Laughter] Most of all, when you're thinking of a large canvas, you're thinking of large everything, right? So resources are always...I don't think we have a shortage of ideas, and that's where it's important that we have buy-in from the miners because they have the big equipment. They could move the earth, and if we're able to work with them from the beginning, they're already thinking about how dirt moves, right, at the most cost effective way. So let's add reclamation at the beginning, and let's move the dirt. So maybe we only have to move it once in your reclamation process, but it ties into what an artist's idea would be for that space when it's complete.
Also, if you're talking about ecosystems and berries, you know, that's science, right? And that's kind of why we did the Willow Basket. We need a bunch of skills and knowledge to come together to make a lot of these projects happen.
Aubyn O’Grady Last summer in August, we worked with Oso planning—Michael McLean—to help us kind of like vision what might...Like, because it's a massive project, and we're used to working like this indoors, like on our, you know, in our process based fibers and working on a scale that is winterized. So we invited Michael to come up and help us just plan, even figure out how to wrap our heads around working at scale. And then in that process, realize that there's some pretty big gaps that we need to fill. Like, how do we think at scale? And so we were looking at...You know, we went out to the site. We looked at what was there, and we mapped it out. And then we looked at what plants were there and we thought about what it would look like to mimic some of those plants in our sculpture. But then realized maybe there was a...We were kind of stopped at even being able to think about what it would look like to make a model. Or, like, how do we pitch this artwork? How do we even talk about it to one another? So that's been kind of like...My coordinating mind has gone to: Okay, we've identified some training gaps. How do we build the skills here to get the artists who want to be part of this project ready to be able to imagine at that scale, to be able to explain their ideas, to be able to map it onto a site, and for us to eventually bring that to someone who could read it and help us create the work.
Jackie Olson The other thing I just think of is time is a huge factor because when you're working with a land, it's working on its own time. And so when you're designing or creating the reclamation project, you have to be willing to invest time, and you may not see your vision for 10-20 years, right? Because as things grow...Because you're starting from scratch. And yes, plants do have their place, and most times it's you know, the weeds, the willow, the grasses and all that. But they all play a part in the restoration of that Earth because it's not ready, maybe, for the flora and fauna that are important to us living here and existing here. You know, as Darcy said, we've been here 10,000 years, we're still here, you know? And you have to have that relationship with the land, you have to understand it, and you have to be able to work with it. And we've lost that in a very short time. You know, it's like a blip in the screen of who we are, and so much has changed in that time. It's really important that we start to ground ourselves again and get back to what's important. What is in our backyard? How are we going to be here another 10,000 years? Maybe we will. But I'm always hopeful I won't be here, but maybe I'll be reincarnated, you know, but my brains are here no matter what.
Aubyn O’Grady Time comes up, so much, right? When we're looking...We've looked at sites with miners, and they've been talking about...Lioke 3 million years ago restoring a riverbed, you know, ancient river beds as a form of reclamation. And then moving...Looking forward, we're thinking about the timeline of different people who have been elected, or we're thinking about an annual funding cycle, or we're thinking about money. We don't hate...We hate talking about it, but we need it to make this project happen. And that's really determined. That shortens the length and life and vitality of our projects by so much. And so, yeah, time is a thing that comes up. What's the lifetime of a plaster mine? What's the lifetime of this project? Are we ready to be committed to this for 20 years, potentially 20-50, 10,000 years?
Ayana Young Yeah, I find whenever I commit to a land project, it's decades in the making. And it's never done, but it isn't a short term goal. And that's part of the beauty of it and that's part of the relationship that I think you're both speaking to—how to build relationship, how to be in right relationship. And something that you had mentioned, that I'm really curious about is what's the difference or how does it look different when you're invited in at the beginning of the process where you can think about the reclamation from day one versus when you're invited after the Earth has been moved and then you're reclaiming it later on?
Jackie Olson Yeah, we talked quite a bit about that last August, and we really kind of thought, "Well, it kind of makes sense to be involved much quicker, like at the beginning, when all that, you know, brain activity is happening and 'I gotta move dirt. I gotta move this. I then move that,'" But to have a vision of where it ends up is going to be beneficial to the artist, to the miner, you know? And, yeah, as for now, we're on reclaimed land that already has a lot of willow. It already has its ecosystem established for whatever it is, and we're trying to work within it. Which means, do we bring in the big dozers again and move everything around to make what we want? Or are we making small changes and adding art, you know, to that area that becomes of interest to our community. You know, I'm hoping it'll become a place where you'll want to go for a walk and go along. You know, Darcy's talked to us about trail markers and, you know, we can think about that and how we bring that back to the land in a respectful way and a mindful—I'm always talking about mindful way of doing things so...And it is very vast. It's only a small little piece, but it's vast, and to think in that scale can be very challenging and scary, you know. So if we keep the project small, like building living structures, you know, with mounding the willows. They're still alive. They're still growing. You can choose to take those willows and use it for a separate project, or you can weave them in and continue to create that structure, which becomes really beautiful.
Aubyn O’Grady And yeah...This question just reminded me of where we come in at the process is like something that we still have to figure out, but we could presumably be included when someone...Like, if we're thinking about different ways to approach...If we assume that mining is going to be around for a long time, I think it'd be an action. Is there a way to, you know, slow it down, or to make it beautiful and more community oriented, to bring some benefit to us? And we kind of position that project in this way. But I'm thinking like at the beginning, when we talk to miners, they look at their claims where they want to mine at the beginning they're moving their arms around like this. They're looking at it, they're explaining what they want to do, and they're pushing and pulling the earth around. And artists do the same thing. We're looking at something, we're pushing and pulling, like we have a similar language or a similar like, desire of movement and pull. And so I'm like if we were in conversation at the beginning, when someone's telling us that they got to push something away, so then they can get out there and we'll say, "Okay, well, can you push it back this way, and then make it like a pond for us?” Like we would just be, it would be a room full of people just waving their arms around and, like, actually, like, moving Earth at like, kind of a massive scale.
Ayana Young I really see it. I think it's the arm movements. That's really helping me. Well, thank you all so much for being here and bringing your presence and your care and your voices. And to Jackie and Aubyn and the Illuminating Worldviews folks.
Victoria Pham Thank you for listening to this episode of For The Wild's collaboration with Illuminating Worldviews made by Ayana Young, Erica Ekrem, Julia Jackson, and Victoria Pham. The music from this episode is from Cole Pulice's new album, Lands and Eternal, courtesy of Leaving Records, Chaz Prymek, and Lior Holzman. To learn more about this series and access the study guide, please visit forthewild.world/i-w. Thanks for listening.
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