Blossoming community outreach through visual art

AWAKENING

Into her early twenties, Olson had no intentions of becoming an artist. She had enrolled in a two-year arts administration foundations program which brought her to Victoria, B.C., to study at Camosun College: “I can’t really do my job unless I have a better understanding of art,” she’d thought at the time.

After graduation, she worked in arts administration for two years. She actively promoted, developed and exhibited First Nations artists and their works on the job.

Soon though, Olson realized she wanted to become an artist herself. She acted on her desire and pivoted to the Alberta College of Art and Design (ACAD), emerging with a bachelor’s degree by her mid-twenties. 

Three decades since she went down this path, Olson intends to return to ACAD for a master’s degree: “I tell my daughters when they go to university, I’m going to go to university as well.”

The alternative would be to stay in Dawson City, the second-largest municipality in Yukon. Its residents are very tight-knit, Olson says of the local First Nation population.

ART

In Olson’s experience, there are artists who don’t pursue formal training in their art. She calls them “closet artists” – people who tinker in the craft, play around, participate in workshops at festivals like at Moosehide Gathering, and draw inspiration from informal encounters.

At the same time, there are certain technical and theoretical aspects that only an arts school can provide. Learning how to draw the human form, capturing movement, composition and placement are fundamental learnings that, according to Olson, come into play each time art is created.

She insists art is accessible enough to teach across cultures, whether you’re Indigenous or not.

AESTHETIC

At Moosehide Gathering, where Olson was running an abstract painting workshop, she was happy for the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in First Nation’s 20th anniversary year of their self-government agreement. She is also optimistic that their culture will be sustained into the future.

Outside of the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in people’s biennial gathering, the Moosehide grounds are not normally open for public access. 

“This is our place to kind of chill and relax and rejuvenate ourselves,” Olson says. “It’s about sharing of cultures – not only other First Nations cultures, but everyone has culture to share.”

Olson says the community has come a long way in revitalizing their culture. The youth are engaged in learning their ancestral Hän language, and they are reacquiring the songs and dances that the Hän language is often set to. More importantly, the collective community is embracing their First Nations identity while continuing to honour their land and lifestyle.

“We’re just trying to get our feet grounded; we need to create a solid foundation to move forward,” Olson says. “But I think we’ve made leaps and bounds as well –– all those are very important things and we’ve been learning along the way and we’ve invited everybody to learn with us, so it’s been great.”

ART AS A CANVAS FOR RECONCILIATION

It took decades before Indigenous Peoples began entering into this headspace of building trust with non-Indigenous people. The legacy of Indigenous colonization often conjures up stories of abuse in residential school.

Olson is a second-generation residential school survivor. As she puts it, Indigenous Peoples in her cohort were raised by parents who used dysfunctional childrearing methods, unable to leave the psychologically-damaging impacts of their tormentors from their residential school years. “The more one gets to understand and learn the effects and impacts of residential school, they will recognize that these patterns are carried forward in generations,” Olson says. “No-one was immune or spared – we have all dealt with the impacts and as we begin to realize and understand what our parents and grandparents went through, we start to understand why they did what they did.”

She now understands that as a result, parents didn’t necessarily know how to show their children love and to protect them. Olson does not speak in public about the lasting psychological impact from her upbringing, but she says that she lived a life of mental, spiritual and physical abuse from her mother.

“The more we talk openly about [residential school], the more we will be able to understand and change bad habits passed on,” Olson says. “I hope I am a break in our family chain and my children will have the skills to be loving, nurturing and empowering parents to their children.”

To break the cycle of the residual effects of settler impact, Olson sees art and culture as stepping in to help with the effort. It starts with empowering the next generation of the ­­First Nations community.