The Neo-Woodland Movement

THE NEO-WOODLAND MOVEMENT By Matthew Ryan Smith, PhD That style of painting has been taken and worked and adopted by a number of very talented image makers or other artists. They have always been very true to the ethos of their community and that has been very difficult because it has been an art that has not been primarily created for that community. —Tom Hill (Konadaha Seneca), curator1 A NDRÉ BRETON founded Surrealism, Chuck Berry shaped rock ’n’ roll, Allen Ginsberg made Beat Poetry, and Norval Morrisseau formed Woodland Art. Though it was not conceived in a vacuum, it remains one of few original artistic movements to emerge from Canada during the 20th century. Morrisseau is recognized as the first Indigenous artist to exhibit his work in a contemporary Canadian art gallery and, in doing so, he destabilized the historical relationship whereby the mainstream art world perceived Indigenous art as ethnographic craft. His was not a singular vision but emerged as the result of Anishinaabe cultural teachings, collaboration with other image makers, and radical experimentation with totemic iconography. 1. “Transcript: Dreams, Myths, and Memories,” People Patterns, March 9, 1988, TVO video transcript, 28:54, web. 38 | FIRSTAMERICANARTMAGAZINE.COM The Woodland style that Morrisseau developed beginning in the 1950s has since mushroomed into an expanded field of Woodland-related art occasionally referred to as Neo-Woodland or New Woodland style. However, little has been written regarding its etymology or its complicated relationship to secular themes, digital technology, or 21st-century life. In some ways, the Neo-Woodland art typifies a continuum of the original Woodland movement elucidated by Morrisseau while, in other ways, it breaks off into new directions and unforeseen lines of flight. EMERGENCE OJIBWE IS BELIEVED to derive from the word Ozhibii’iweg, which translates to English as “people who keep records of a vision.” Their visual material and other iconography, including totemic symbols, ochre petroglyphs, dreamscapes, personal signatures, and writing,2 were inscribed on birchbark scrolls by members of the Midewiwin, the Grand Medicine Society. Research indicates that this pictographic visual system was one of the largest and most widely used in the Eastern Woodlands. Certain scrolls are imbued with spiritual meaning and engaged during ceremony by the initiated, hence their imagery and subject matter are protected by strict cultural protocols. Morrisseau was born in 1932 on Bingwi Neyaashi Anishinaabek First Nation, a small Anishinaabe reserve community in northwest Ontario. As a young man, he was introduced to birchbark scrolls and oral teachings by his maternal grandfather, the spiritual leader Moses Potan Nanakonagos, and Morrisseau sought to imitate its iconography and worldview in paintings and drawings. Anishinaabe cultural protocols led community members to dissuade him from sharing their ceremonial knowledge with others. 3 Morrisseau continued unabated, notwithstanding the social taboo, and he experimented with a visual language that later became known as Woodland Art, Legend Painting, or X-Ray Art. With the support of friends and sycophants, an exhibition of Morrisseau’s work opened at Pollock Gallery in Toronto in 1962. Not only did this critical event establish Morrisseau’s commercial success, but it also introduced Anishinaabe visual culture to mainstream Canadian audiences. Several years later, in 1973, the Professional Native Indian Artists Inc. (PNIAI), of which Morrisseau was a founding member, reinforced the idea that art produced by Indigenous artists was utterly of its time and existed outside the discursive restrictions placed on it by ethnological museums, the gallery system, and the souvenir economy. At this time, Odawa/Potawatomi painter Daphne Odjig (1919–2016) said, “We wanted just to be artists.”4 During the early 1960s, Morrisseau started to tighten his compositions and apply paint more liberally to delineate large blocks of color enveloped by thick black lines. Flat planes of luminescent white paint and undulating thin black contours vibrate and tremble his tableaux to life. Inside the transparent bodies of sacred beings such as thunderbirds, water serpents, and snakes are repeated patterns and designs that generate X-ray-like vision, which unsettle the observer’s sense of perception, making it difficult to a b ov e Stephen Snake (Rama Chippewa), Copper Thunderbird, 2008, oil on canvas, 40 × 30 in. Image courtesy of the artist. opposite Norval Morrisseau (Bingwi Neyaashi Ojibwe, 1 93 1 – 2 0 07 ) , S h a m a n a n d Apprentice, ca. 1980–85, acrylic on canvas, 53¼ × 74½ in., collection of the Art Gallery of Hamilton, gift of Nicholas John Pustina, Robert Edward Zelinski, and Kenny Alwyn Whent, 1985. Image courtesy of the Art Gallery of Hamilton, Ontario. 2. Christopher Barry-Arredondo, “The ‘talking paper’: Interpreting the birch-bark scrolls of the Ojibwa Midewiwin” (master’s thesis, SUNY Buffalo, 2006). 3. Carmen Robertson, “Norval Morrisseau: Life and Work: Biography,” Art Institute Canada, web. 4. Catherine Mattes, “Goyce & Joshim Kakegamic,” Gallery One One One, web. NO. 30, SPRING 2021 | 39 above Thomas Jay Bruyere (Cree/Ojibwe), Deer, 2020, digitally-colored ink drawing. Image courtesy of the artist. opposite Thomas Jay Bruyere (Cree/Ojibwe), Amy's Pedagogy, 2020, digitallycolored ink drawing. Image courtesy of the artist. distinguish a strong relationship between figures and the ground. The appearance of orbs featuring a diametric line through their center, a divided circle, may represent moral binaries, in addition to reverse states of life and death, day and night, function and dysfunction. The spheres link to other figures and forms using thin black lines to propose a metaphorical relationship and express the worldview that all things are interconnected, both here and in the cosmos. “All life is connected,” said artist Roy Thomas (Long Lake Ojibwe, 1949–2004), “the artist to the brush, the brush to the creatures and the trees, the paint to the earth, the canvas to the plants.”5 Their strange resemblance to cells or microorganisms insinuates that Indigenous medicine identified the strange networks between matter we cannot see with our eyes long before the microscope existed. Morrisseau was drawn to the spiritual beliefs of the Anishinaabeg and Christendom early in his career, the latter’s dogma imprinted on him while surviving residential school from the age of six. During the mid-1970s, he was introduced to the American religious movement Eckankar and, in particular, its theorization of astral projection. An astral plane is a state of existence or different form of reality that an individual’s consciousness or spirit can travel to in life or death. Greg A. Hill (Kanyen'kehà:ka Mohawk), National Gallery of Canada curator, maintains that Eckankar was a deep influence for Morrisseau because it helped him develop the visual language for his spiritual beliefs6 and inspired such paintings as Artist and Shaman Between Two Worlds (1980) and Observations of the Astral World (ca. 1994). Morrisseau’s imagery portrays astral planes to which he, as a spiritual practitioner, transcended. Morrisseau’s interest in traversing other realities reflects Eckankar’s core beliefs in the existence of divine light and the healing power of color. “Many times people tell me that I’ve cured them of something, whatever’s ailing them,” Morrisseau remarked. “It was the colour of the painting that did that.”7 Still, Morrisseau’s impassioned application of complementary colors intensified by tertiary colors is precisely why paintings like The Masterpiece (1982) are diffused with energy. His testing of light and color combinations to imbue sacred legends and pictographic imagery with great élan impacted those who came after. The diffusion of Woodland art in the South coincides with a zenith of Indigenous political activism in the late 1960s and ’70s. At this time, the federal government penned sweeping policy changes to repeal the special status given Indigenous peoples by the state 5. “Campus Art Guide: Roy Thomas,” University of Regina, 2016, web. 6. Robertson, “Norval Morrisseau,” web. 7. Norval Morrisseau and Donald Robinson, Travels to the House of Invention (Toronto: Key Porter Books, 1997), 16–17. 40 | FIRSTAMERICANARTMAGAZINE.COM and fully assimilate them into broader Canadian society, only a few years after they received the right to vote in federal elections. Morrisseau was almost certainly perceived as an intermediary between the Northern communities and its Southern counterparts. So, was he used by authorities to stabilize decaying relations? Since then, Woodland art has become an indelible facet of Canadian identity, though presumably many Woodland artists would not consider themselves “Canadian” at all. BRIDGE MANY ARTISTS OF THE SECOND GENERATION of Woodland artists, sometimes described as the New Woodland School, were directly mentored by Morrisseau or were students of his work and teachings. Though his influence is often overlooked today, likely due to his death at the early age of 35, the extraordinary body of work left behind by Morrisseau’s apprentice and friend Carl Ray (Sandy Lake Cree, 1943–1979) was viewed as a seminal “bridge between Morrisseau and the new generation of Native painters” as early as 1984.8 Other artists such as Brian Marion (Saulteaux, 1960–2011), Richard Bedwash (Long Lake Ojibwe), Stephen Snake (Rama Chippewa), and Abe Kakepetum (Sandy Lake Oji-Cree, 1944–2019) similarly adopted the lexical system of the Woodland style and its symbology to map new trajectories. Comparable to Ray, painter Roy Thomas also helped bridge the Woodland style to later generations of artists. Thomas was born on the trapline outside Caramat, Ontario, and grew up on the Long Lake #58 Reserve community. His grandmother shared stories of Anishinaabe heroes, immortals, and animals with him as he traced their likeness on her back with his finger,9 and he was fascinated by the pictographic imagery he encountered throughout northwestern Ontario. Like Morrisseau, Thomas periodically painted on birchbark as a reference to Anishinaabe ceremony and depicted totem animals in luminous colors united by undulating black lines. His 1984 painting We’re All in the Same Boat (1984), included in the Art Gallery of Ontario’s exhibition Norval Morrisseau and the Emergence of the Image Makers, references the genesis of the Woodland style and its principal authors. The painting depicts a canoe holding seven artists participating in the exhibition—Morrisseau, Odjig, Ray, Joshim Kakegamic (Sandy Lake Oji-Cree, 1952–1993), Saul Williams (North Caribou Lake Oji-Cree), Blake Debassige (M'Chigeeng Ojibwe), and Thomas himself—as they gesture toward pictographs with their paint brushes. The work stands in praise of Anishinaabe visual culture and pays homage to the Woodland artists while also pointing to the challenges each experienced in legitimizing their new art form to the contemporary art market. The critical success of Woodland art is due, in part, to the self-determination of Sandy Lake First Nation artists Goyce and Joshim Kakegamic during the 1970s and early ’80s. Morrisseau married their sister, Harriet Kakegamic (Oji-Cree), in the late 1950s and encouraged the then-teenage boys to paint and draw in the Woodland style he advocated. It was around this time that Goyce remembers, “I started to establish myself … as an Indian artist. Pardon me, establish myself as an artist who happens to be Indian.”10 The 1970s saw the Kakegamic brothers travel to Toronto where they sold original paintings to a buyer who cheated them out of artist and copyright fees. Nonetheless, they absorbed the newest printmaking techniques at Toronto’s Open Studio, an artist-run center, before returning home. The brothers settled in Red Lake, Ontario, and opened Triple K Cooperative Inc. with their brother Henry and became the first Indigenous silkscreen printing company in Canada. In short, Triple K reproduced and promoted limited-edition works on paper by the brothers themselves, as well as that of friends and colleagues like Barry Peters (Pikangikum Ojibwe), Paddy Peters (Pikangikum Ojibwe), Williams, and Morrisseau. The efforts of the Kakegamic brothers to retain their agency over how their work was represented to collectors, dealers, and galleries, often through copyright and royalty agreements, became a model for other Indigenous-led art organizations. The access and affordability of Triple K prints to patrons throughout northern North America and Europe helped proliferate the Woodland style among younger artists and collectors. 8. Alan J. Ryan, review of Norval Morrisseau and the Emergence of the Image Makers, by Elizabeth McLuhan and Tom Hill, The Canadian Journal of Native Studies 4, no. 1 (1984), 162. 9. Stephanie MacLellan, “Influential Native artist Roy Thomas dies,” The Chronicle-Journal, November 15, 2004, web. 10. Cathy Mattes, “Indigenous Artists Defying Expectations,” Canadian Dimension, January 12, 2007, web. NO. 30, SPRING 2021 | 41 The establishment of the Ojibwe Cultural Foundation (OCF) in M'Chigeeng First Nation on Manitoulin Island three years later helped to differentiate the aesthetic interests and conceptual approaches between the Woodland artists and what became known as the Manitoulin School. Artists Shirley Cheechoo (Cree), Blake Debassige, Leland Bell (Wikwemikong Ojibwe/ Odawa), Joseph Linklater (Anishinaabe), Randy Trudeau (Curve Lake Ojibwe/ Odawa), and Martin Panamick (M'Chigeeng Ojibwe, 1956–1997) were soon associated with the Manitoulin group and further distinguished themselves from the original movement through their transdisciplinary approach towards art making. Cheechoo, in particular, produced a number of paintings and drawings informed by poetry, narrative fiction, music, film, and theater. If creativity necessitates experimentation, then those of the Manitoulin School splintered from the Woodland style by embracing new directions. Alan Ojiig Corbiere (M'Chigeeng Ojibwe), former OCF director, and Leland Bell maintain that the work produced by the Manitoulin School remains heterogeneous in its approach and application. 11 The Anishinaabeg “come from a long line of creativity; our civilization goes way back,” says Bell, “What we practice is creativity.”12 NEO-WOODLAND above, top Chief Lady Bird (Rama Chippewa/Potawatomi), Dibaajimowinan, Mushkiikii, and Land Back, 2020, digital illustration and collage. Image courtesy of the artist. above, bottom Patrick Hunter, Howling for the Northstar, 2014, acrylic on canvas, 16 × 20 in. Image courtesy of the artist opposite Chief Lady Bird (Rama Chippewa/Potawatomi), Bneshii Devours Windigo, Creates New World, 2021, oil on panel, 30 × 23 in. Image courtesy of the artist. 42 | FIRSTAMERICANARTMAGAZINE.COM Elsewhere, in 1971 the Manitoulin Arts Foundation on Manitoulin Island, Ontario, received funding to organize studio classes for emerging artists taught by instructors such as Morrisseau, Odjig, and Ray. THE NEO-WOODLAND STYLE acknowledges the historical influences of Morrisseau and Woodland art while evolving its themes and subject matter into secular and digital expressions. No longer are astral projection, petroglyphic engravings, or pictographic imagery central facets of image-making, but a line of continuity to work that aestheticizes current political obstacles and vernacular life. For curator Bruce Bernstein, “Tradition is not a stagnant set of rules and practices but rather a set of principles 11. Lynn Barwin, Marjory Shawande, Eric Crighton, and Luisa Veronis, “Methods-in-Place: ‘Art Voice’ as a Locally and Culturally Relevant Method to Study Traditional Medicine Programs in Manitoulin Island, Ontario, Canada,” International Journal of Qualitative Methods 14, no. 5 (December 27, 2015), web. 12. Margo Little, Portraits of Spirit Island: The Manitoulin School of Art Comes of Age (Gore Bay, ON: Lady Luck Enterprises, 2009), 28. 13. Bruce Bernstein, “Expected Evolution: The Changing Continuum,” in Shapeshifting: Transformations in Native American Art, ed. Karen Kramer Russell (Salem: Peabody Essex Museum, 2012), 30–43. and values that provide a foundation for change—a wonderful and vital part of art-making.”13 Many Anishinaabe artists still champion the elemental tableaux of 1970s and ’80s Woodland art in their use of exoskeletal designs, repeated patterns, lustrous color palettes, heavy black line, and all-over composition. Other artists feel attached to Woodland art, because it maps a connection to ancestral knowledge, grounds them in a specific place, and therefore provides a strong sense of belonging. The earliest memories of Cree/ Ojibwe artist Thomas Jay Bruyere were replicating prints by Odjig and Jackson Beardy (Garden Hill Oji-Cree, 1944–1984) that hung on the walls of his family home. Beardy, especially, made a lasting impact on Bruyere, because the younger artist attended school, where they were the only Indigenous children, with Beardy’s son Jason. Later, Bruyere attended the School of Art at the University of Manitoba, the same school that Beardy graduated from decades earlier in 1966. In Bruyere’s painting Deer (2020), flora and fauna converge in a fantastical vista animated by complementary colors. Unlike the original Woodland movement, black line is used sparingly and blocks of color are not flat but feature gradients of red to orange and purple to blue. Wavy black lines of the Woodland style are inverted to delicate white lines that extend through the deer’s neck and swell into its head. Bruyere’s approach to painting is rooted in “Indigenous Storytelling” and autobiography,14 whereby cultural narratives and lived history synthesize to generate fantastical visions. Conversely, for some Anishinaabeg, the archetypal shift in themes and subject matter in the Woodland style represents cultural loss; more specifically, the erasure of Indigenous peoples through Canada’s assimilationist policies. Odjig, for example, was a fluent speaker of her original language until she left the Wikwemikong First Nation on Manitoulin Island after the death of her mother and grandfather.15 Marten Falls Ojibway knowledge-keeper Eli Baxter writes that the Anishinaabe Kih-kayn-daa-soh-win (knowledge) and Pah-git-tin-nih-gay-win-nun (laws) are encoded in the original language itself. This includes information on the education system, sciences, philosophy, spiritual teachings, and so forth. As a consequence, he considers that the loss of Anishinaabemowin (the Ojibwe language) from settler-colonialism and its aftermaths might have shifted Woodland art from its foundations in spirituality and ceremony to secular and autobiographical experiences.16 Rama Chippewa and Moose Deer Point Potawatomi artist Chief Lady Bird makes clear that the concepts articulated through the Woodland style are indeed related to language in that they circumvent the “English language and colonial worldview,” functioning as “a portal into known and unknown worlds, bursting with ideologies that place us on the land and express the interconnectedness embedded in Anishinaabe cosmologies.” 17 Paintings such as Bneshii Devours Windigo, Creates New World (2021) are deeply indebted to the Woodland style for it makes use of totemic iconography, blocks of pure color, and rhythmic black line against 14. Bernstein, “Expected Evolution,” 30–43. 15. Judy Stoffman, “Aboriginal modernist painter Daphne Odjig led Indian Group of Seven,” Globe and Mail, October 21, 2016, web. 16. Eli Baxter, email message to author, January 25, 2021). See also: Eli Baxter, Aki-Wayn-Zih: A Person as Worthy as the Earth, ed. Matthew Ryan Smith (Montreal: McGillQueen’s University Press, forthcoming). 17. Chief Lady Bird, email message to author, January 31, 2021. NO. 30, SPRING 2021 | 43 above Gordon Coons (Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibwe/Ottawa), Caring for Our Relations, 2014, acrylic on canvas, 30 × 24 in. Image courtesy of the artist. opposite Gordon Coons (Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibwe/Ottawa), Ancient Trials of the Sturgeons, 2015, acrylic on canvas, 24 × 30 in. Image courtesy of the artist. a brilliant firetruck-red background utilized by the likes of Thomas, Alex Janvier (Denesuline/Saulteaux), and Jim Oskineegish (Eabametoong Ojibwe). Her other works such as Dibaajimowinan, Mushkiikii, and Land Back (2020) introduce collage elements, photography, and digital design into established Woodland motifs. The background image is Lady Bird’s self-portrait adorned with red ochre pictographs on her face. The words Land Back hang from her earrings and combine with sacred birds, soft flora, and syllabics to communicate Indigenous stewardship of the land and the process of reclamation. Hers is a memorable statement that conceptualizes “the experience of living as an Anishinaabe kwe in this complex time/timeline.”18 It is both of its time and of another time, impelled by the Woodland style while renewing it in the ether of digital software. Patrick Hunter is a two-Spirit Red Lake Ojibwe artist and designer who, like Chief Lady Bird, is also interested in the aesthetic potential of digitalizing the Woodland style. Hunter grew up with Woodland art and prints on the walls of his home and remembers hearing anecdotes about some of the men who originated the Woodland movement. “I think it's important to see the works of those early originators,” says Hunter, “and put it through your own filter and experiences and turn it into something that looks true to you, and that's what I hope I've done.”19 Though his paintings reside in public and private art collections, his design work has garnered significant commercial interest in recent years. Hunter draws inspiration from bandolier bags and historical clothing, which splinters the Woodland style into new domains of contemporary fashion and graphic illustration. Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibwa/Ottawa artist Gordon Coons looks to his Anishinaabe heritage to interpret the wildlife and natural scenery that he absorbs in the Great Lakes region. There is a jouissance, a playfulness, that exists in paintings that bring together Western and Indigenous cultural elements. For example, in Caring for Our Relations (2020), he envelops common animals from the Great Lakes—a cardinal, turtle, swan, and rabbit—inside the connective tissue of bright green line. It is not a coincidence that the back of a badger is rendered in white stars on a blue background to hint that American colonialism and Indigenous history is interwoven into a shared condition. To this end, Coons warns that the Woodland style has been corrupted by unscrupulous actors in recent years. “With the new Woodland Art Style creations,” he affirms, “traditional stories can be seen […] but has some of the spirituality been lost? Or has it been lost because of the need to chase the dollar?”20 Woodland art, much like Inuit carving, has been produced for the 18. Chief Lady Bird, email. 19. Patrick Hunter, email message to author, January 25, 2021. 20. Gordon Coons, email message to author, January 25, 2021. 44 | FIRSTAMERICANARTMAGAZINE.COM souvenir economy en masse for publics with little knowledge or regard for its cultural origins or spiritual cosmology. Airports, corner stores, trinket shops, and even some art galleries sell kitschy Woodland coffee mugs, T-shirts, neckties, and mousepads, some with or without the artists’ permission. Likewise, a Toronto exhibition of non-Indigenous artist Amanda PL was canceled due to public outcry over her paintings that unabashedly replicate the Woodland style. Chippewa of the Thames artist Jay Soule contends that “she’s taking [Morrisseau’s] stories and retelling them, which bastardizes it down the road.” Amanda Pl responds to the controversy by saying, “I think it’s a shame to say that an artist can’t create something because they’re not from that race.”21 Non-Native people profiteering off Indigenous art is nothing new, though the deliberation surrounding cultural appropriation is still unfolding. Nevertheless, it remains an important part of Woodland art’s story. In a similar vein, the documentary There Are No Fakes (2019) reveals an alleged forgery network in Thunder Bay, Ontario, of approximately 3,000 Morrisseau paintings at an estimated worth of Can$30,000,000. It maps how protagonist and musician Kevin Hearn purchased a (supposed) Morrisseau painting (with suspicious provenance) for $20,000 and included it in a private collector’s exhibition at the Art Gallery of Ontario where it was swiftly removed by then-curator Gerald McMaster (Plains Cree). After the film’s release, an Ontario Court of Appeals decision overturned an original decision against Hearn to award him $60,000. If the purported emulation of Morrisseau’s paintings is true, then it would have generated millions of dollars in sales for some while jeopardizing the value and provenance for others. Back in 1935, Walter Benjamin argued that mechanical processes such as lithography or photography deplete art of its special quality, what he called its “aura.”22 If the alleged forgery network is factory-like in its production, then what is the cost to Morrisseau and his legacy? Is this what Coons insinuates when he asserts that the dollar of greed has supplanted the spirit of Woodland art. In the end, perhaps the greater shame is that discourse surrounding forgeries and plagiarism have surpassed critical debate on Morrisseau’s invaluable body of work and his conceptualization of Woodland art itself. CONCLUSION THE WOOD LAND SCHOOL originated in 2011 when Omaskêko Cree artist Duane Linklater curated a small exhibition of works from five friends and collaborators in his second-floor studio in Nipissing First Nation, Ontario. “By creating a small space between wood and land,” Linklater “sought to break apart the ethnographic categorization of Eastern Indigenous people in North America.” Since then, the Wood Land School has evolved into an elastic arts-based project with no fixed address that scrutinizes the spectrum of Indigenous inclusivity in institutional spaces. At issue are the limits of visual art when the presence of Indigenous voices and their conceptualizations are inserted into their directives.23 Here, in the hands of its membership, the etymology of Woodland to “Wood Land” offers a productive and meaningful schema to critique unbalanced systems of display. For this reason, it is firmly bonded to the oppositional politics adopted by the PNIAI and the first generation of Woodland artists. The image-making of Morrisseau and the transfigurations of Woodland art diffuse in unpredictable ways whereby attempting to classify the movement risks essentializing it. What is clear is that Woodland art was an archetypal event in art’s befuddled history and a crucial point of departure for a breadth of aesthetic, economic, and political exploration (or exploitation). Neo-Woodland art, in all its various manifestations and guises, can be many things to many people—beautiful, regenerative, or utterly corrupt. Matthew Ryan Smith, PhD, is the curator and head of collections at Glenhyrst Art Gallery in Brantford, Ontario. 21. Shanifa Nasser, “Toronto gallery cancels show after concerns artist ‘bastardizes’ Indigenous art,” CBC News, April 28, 2017, web. 22. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zohn from the 1935 essay (New York: Schocken Books, 1968), 217–51. 23. Aïcha Diallo, “Centering Indigenous Bodies, Art and Practice,” artseverwhere, September 25, 2017, web. NO. 30, SPRING 2021 | 45