When I visited The Rooms this past summer, to see Labrador artist Melissa Tremblett’s solo exhibition, Reprise, I was on my way down the southern shore to scatter my mother’s ashes off the Drook, in the company of her two sisters. Walking into the gallery to Melissa’s work brought me a sense of comfort, a reminder that we are all connected to our ancestors, and part of a larger relation. Our mothers. Our Aunties. Our grandmothers. We are carrying their love, their teachings, and their hearts. In a way, our lives are like a musical composition, a reprise to all that came before and will come after. 

From my position as a mixed-Mi’kmaq/settler reviewer, I want to clearly address that Tremblett’s Reprise is deeply personal, as it weaves text, photography, beadwork, natural found materials, and textiles to connective tissues of ancestry. This illustrates the artist reconnecting to lost histories and refining her relationship to her identity and Innu heritage. It’s both powerful and vulnerable. The exhibition gives viewers the opportunity to witness multiple selves, to be uncomfortable, to reflect on addiction, mental health and all that creates an object and an identity. There is no division between artist and art work. 

Reprise is a reflective self-portrait, inviting viewers to hold space, contemplate, and pay witness. As part of her Elbow Room residency, Tremblett spent time with many objects found in The Rooms’ collection, including a caribou skin jacket (the maker is unknown) and tea dolls that were central to traditional Innu ways of life and made by her grandmother, Madeline Michelin (1932-2008), a renowned Innu artist. She studied the handiwork of the caribou skin jacket maker, her grandmother, and her aunt—who is also a doll maker—and learned from their techniques. Tremblett created a straitjacket, “Evade, 2019,” made of mixed media (cotton, cotton thread, antiquated brass hardware, and a plastic buckle) that speaks to the artist’s struggle with addiction and an eating disorder. “Reprise, 2020” is another jacket made of wool, cotton, cotton thread, magnets, and seed beads, with a hood lined with her grandmother’s fabric.

Michelin, Tremblett’s grandmother, was a doll maker, a skill passed down by her mother in the resettled community of Sheshatshiu. The juxtaposition of her “Untitled 1997-1998” mixed media tea dolls and Tremblett’s tea doll “Just like Madeline, 2019,” (made with black tea, naturally dyed cotton, fabric, linen, imitation hide, seed beads, and faux leather trim) are an act of generational knowledge transmission, carrying Innu teachings. The words “hearts intertwine,” which are below the three dolls, brought me to tears. The relationship between great-grandmother, grandmother, and granddaughter resonates. The tea dolls, made by dollmakers for their children, are constructed from caribou hide and stuffed with a pound or so of tea. As it was up until the 1950s, Innu people of Labrador moved twice a year to be closer to primary food sources, packing up every winter to follow the caribou herd. It was the children’s job to carry the tea dolls, which the adults needed to borrow to make black tea to share with the Elders and hunters. Once the tea supply ran out, the dolls were re-stuffed with moss. Tea dolls weren’t only practical, they were a way for children to learn the importance of taking care of the Elders and sharing with others. 

Reprise speaks to the ongoing interconnectivity between generations.

Despite the exhibition being visual art, poetry is found throughout the gallery walls, which adds a dreamlike aspect. Tremblett’s words, “Meandering/ Falter/ in spite of the dark/ my heart grows fonder/ mended spirit/ taking root/ renew the mind/ braided spine/ sauntering softly/ hearts intertwine,” almost whisper throughout the space. A framed poem features the line, “We may not know how to talk to our people. But we will always go back.” However, it’s the wordlessness of the large, black-framed “Self-portrait as a Tree, 2014,” a series of reclaimed pieces of birch bark, that speaks for the relationship between the artist and the land, highlighting how Tremblett, of Innu and English descent, is separate neither from the land nor her ancestors.

While Tremblett’s work is provocative and striking, it’s the artist speaking in her own words about returning to Labrador seven years after her grandmother’s death that is central to understanding the truth and courage of Reprise. Tremblett writes about going for a walk with Innu Elder Tshakuesh (Elizabeth) Penashue in the spring of 2015. “When I talked with Tshakuesh about Grandma she would tell me how I was ‘Just like Madeline.’ I’ve always felt I wanted to be just like Grandma when I grew up. When Tshakuesh said that to me, it was the first time I felt like I was reconnecting with Gram. After that, I got into making tea dolls. I had tried before but felt like I didn’t have the right because I didn’t feel like I belonged. Now I know who I am.”

Tremblett’s Reprise is a testament to her own becoming, and it honours her Innu culture and artistic practice. Like Tremblett, I needed to return home to reconnect to the land and waters after my mother died this past fall. Despite being in the midst of a global pandemic, I am grateful to the Atlantic bubble for the opportunity to spend time with this important exhibition in Ktaqamkuk, an artistic place like no other. 

Emily Lawrence & Kylie Dyment. Still from Mouthfeel. Photo: Erica Flake

Artists Kyle Alden Martens and Emily Lawrence both create playful work that subtly destabilizes traditionally heteronormative arenas—sports for Martens and mainstream porn and Martha Stewart cooking demonstrations for Lawrence—while making their audiences laugh through any discomfort of not knowing the new rules of the game.

For Martens, humour has always provided a way of “bringing people to subject matter that’s maybe more touchy or emotional,” he explains. Visual Arts News’ podcast host David Dahms chats with Martens about subjects ranging from where he finds creative inspiration to why it’s important to respect some people’s decisions to keep their sexual orientation a secret. The artist discusses how his own experiences growing up in “a painfully small town in Saskatchewan where the reality of queer people is something that’s hidden to make their lives easier” continues to inform the work he does today. “Within my practice there’s an underlying theme of being closeted or a hidden sexuality, or this repression out of necessity. Humour is kind of a way to bring that topic up without kind of being a downer.”

Emily Lawrence discusses topics ranging from the divide between art and life (or lack thereof) to the role of seduction as a powerful tool in her work. “I think initially people are drawn into the type of work that I make and very seduced, but once they’re there, there’s a lot that happens,” explains Lawrence. “When they’re in, people are maybe surprised or disgusted and there’s a flipping of [the seductive elements].” Lawrence employs a maximalist aesthetic in much of her work, “pulling people in with excess and spectacle,” while ultimately destabilizing constructs related to one’s identity and role in society. She takes on multiple identities when she creates work, playfully embracing a plurality of self.  “I think that even when I’m present in my work, I’m creating a character and wearing a costume.”

Emily Lawrence, installation view of Hodgepodge. Courtesy of the artist

Emily Lawrence & Kylie Dyment. Still from Mouthfeel. Photo: Erica Flake

Emily Lawrence & Kylie Dyment. Still from Mouthfeel. Photo: Erica Flake

Kyle Alden Martens, performance still of SOFT PLAYERS. Via: kylealdenmartens.com

Kyle Alden Martens, performance still of SOFT PLAYERS. Via: kylealdenmartens.com

Installation detail of Equipment. Documentation by Jordan Blackburn & Brandon Brookbank. Via kylealdenmartens.com

Kyle Alden Martens, performance still of SOFT PLAYERS. Via: kylealdenmartens.com

Kyle Alden Martens, performance still of SOFT PLAYERS. Via: kylealdenmartens.com

Sarah Burwash, Still from Finding Way, residency at Wilderness State Park, 2013. Photo: Carson Davis Brown

LIZZY HILL: What moves you to explore our relationship with nature in an age when many people are probably better acquainted with their computer screens?

SARAH BURWASH: I feel like more now then ever we need to become intimate with nature, to care for it, respect it and learn from it. I want to draw attention to out-of-touch relationships with the nature natural world and how that reflects in our emotional lives. For me nature is a very healing and soulful place and I go to it when I need to gain perspective so it is a natural subject matter for me to use, it provides me a huge visual vocabulary to tell my stories.

LH: You created a series of drawings for Visual Arts News while doing an artist residency in Norway. What was that experience like and how did it influence your practice?

SB: I had a great experience in Norway. The residency was set on a remote farm in Suldal, in the southwestern part of Norway. I was provided with a farm house in the hills to live and work in. The farm has no road leading to it and I had to hike up the mountainside to reach it. It was very remote. I could go days without seeing anyone, just the sheep roaming the hills. There was no internet either, life became very simplified—stoking the fire, hiking the hills and making work. I was joined by Brenna Phillips two weeks into the residency which really enriched the experience. My research and source material for the work I created came from the surroundings and my experience exploring the area rather then the internet, which is an easy default for source material. I have Norwegian heritage so I was really thrilled to connect with that.

Photo of Sarah Burwash: Courtesy of the artist

LH: Has making art always been part of your life? 

Yes it has. I grew up with a very creative mom who had me and my brothers making arts and crafts everyday and from a young age I was set on being an artist when I grew up. I grew up in a small town in BC in the mountains and spent a lot of my youth hiking the hills and at our family cabin where I would sketch and draw. I turned our childhood tree fort into a studio when I was a teenager. 

LH: Your book The Far Woods was recently touring across Canada with Conundrum Press and features striking, dreamlike illustrations inspired by Canadian pioneer women and explorers. What is it about this subject matter that caught your attention?

SB: The roots of my interest in this subject matter goes back to when I was a young teenager. I grew up with two brothers, which I feel has impacted my practice a lot and the role models I turn to. At times I felt excluded because I was the girl, and so from young age I fought to be treated equally, to be included, to not let my gender restrict me. For awhile my approach was to be really masculine (I became a huge tomboy) but I realized after a while that that approach wasn’t right way to go about it, and so I turned to books and stories of women who where subversive to be my role models and empower me.

LH: I loved the ink drawing you created for our Spring 2014 issue, “Mother of Life.” Can you tell me a little bit about what inspired this work?

I did a residency in Paonia, Colorado in 2012 and while there ended up attending a Women’s New Moon Group, a monthly gathering of women who made a ritual that celebrates the moon cycles and women and things like this. They had a binder where they collected things related to the Moon Group and in it I found an image titled ‘Goddess of Life’ and it was the source of inspiration for this drawing, I made my own version of it. For me it is about mother nature, creation, cycles.

LH: In your recent residency with the floating group Cabin-Time you had the opportunity to get lost in Wilderness State Park and as a result created your body of work, Finding Way. What’s your own relationship with nature like? How did you feel once you were lost?

SB: Wilderness State Park offered the opportunity to explore the beyond and to get lost in that exploration. Getting lost is more than a physical circumstance, it is a state of mind, a gateway to discovery. I set out daily in different directions, East, South, West and North, meditating on mantras to invoke the different directional signs and elements, and lost myself in subtle nuances of the natural world with a compass to guide me home. I feel really comfortable in nature, I grew up immersed in it—it’s maybe where I feel most comfortable and most myself and I really love to explore nature independently. I also like to test my navigational skills and resourcefulness in the woods and to challenge myself to trust myself, my knowledge and my instincts. It was when I became lost that I knew I had arrived.

LH: What’s next on the horizon for you? Any exciting new projects or ideas you’d like to let us in on?

I am currently doing a thematic residency at the Banff Centre called “Winterjourney.” I have a solo show at UAS Gallery in Calgary this spring and am exhibiting with AKA artist-run centre in Saskatoon through their billboard project. I will be doing a residency at Point Pleasant Park in the Gatekeepers Lodge this spring and a residency at Struts Gallery this summer.

Artist Annie Macmillan takes the public swimming at Halifax’s “Little Lakes” during her Fieldwork residency. Photo: Katie McKay

This summer as part of the Fieldwork residency project—a series of residencies in the HRM this summer for artists who “employ research methodologies and fieldwork practices generally associated with the natural and social sciences”—artist Annie Macmillan is seeking out every lake in the Halifax Regional Municipality with the name “Little Lake” and swimming its perimeter. Her plan is to turn those maps into drawings that tell the story of each swim. In this interview for Visual Arts News, Veronica Simmonds catches up with her to talk about her underwater adventures, her artistic process and her exploration of a city’s edges.

Join Macmillan as she leads her next public swim, Wednesday August 7.

Photos by Katie McKay
Podcast Music:

Apparat- Sayulita
Air- Alone in Kyoto
Yann Tiersen – Till the End

Kate Walchuk, work from GOOD SHAPE, A show of personal souvenirs. Seeds Gallery April 17 – May 18 2013. Photo: Katie McKay

Kate Walchuk is in the business of memory preservation. In this podcast for Visual Arts News, Veronica Simmonds chats with the Halifax-based artist and curator about her recent show at Seeds Gallery, GOOD SHAPE, and her new understanding of nostalgia.