The art of Indigenous truth and joy

Marie-Anne Redhead is wearing the most sensational earrings.

We’re in Ikavut, the sun-soaked entrance hall at Qaumajuq, and the light is catching the discs, iridescent like the surface of a bubble. Upon further inspection: they are tiny caribou being abducted by candy-coloured UFOs.

“They’re by The Littlest Inuksuk,” she says, leaning in so I can get a closer look at the miniature artworks dangling from her earlobes. “You can find her on Instagram, but I think we also sell them in the gift shop.”

Something is made clear in that moment: Redhead is passionate about supporting Indigenous artists, and about sharing their work, too. Important qualities to have in her new role.

Redhead, 31, is the new assistant curator of Indigenous and contemporary art at WAG-Qaumajuq, a post she assumed on Feb. 1. “I was really excited and a little scared,” she says of getting the job. “It’s a pretty visible position, and it’s probably the first one I’ve had like that.”

What Redhead likes best about curation is that most of it, newspaper profiles notwithstanding, happens out of view.

“It’s research and thinking and writing, which is what I really enjoy — the scarier part is when I actually have to speak to people,” she says with a laugh. “I am also very excited and grateful that the curatorial team here wanted to have me join them.”

“It is always exciting to welcome a new member to the curatorial team,” said Riva Symko, WAG-Qaumajuq’s head of collections & exhibitions and curator of Canadian art, in a media release announcing Redhead’s hiring. “Marie-Anne will be bringing new perspectives, new ideas, and a thoughtful approach to the work we do.”

While she’s new to the curatorial team, Redhead, who holds a bachelor of arts (honours) in English from the University of Winnipeg, is not new to WAG-Qaumajuq. In June 2021, she began work on the Artworks Renaming Initiative, a project in which artworks with offensive or culturally insensitive titles are renamed by Indigenous Elders and Knowledge Keepers.

When Serena Keshavjee, one of her professors at U of W, approached Redhead about the initiative, she was immediately interested. “I was like, ‘Wow, I’m impressed that this work is being done and there’s actually a move towards decolonizing the collection.’ That gave me hope.”

“I was like, ‘Wow, I’m impressed that this work is being done and there’s actually a move towards decolonizing the collection.’ That gave me hope.”–Anne-Marie Redhead

Getting involved with a project that had a tangible goal also appealed to Redhead.

“I feel like a lot of times in institutions you hear things like ‘decolonization,’ and it’s like, what does that mean? What’s it going to look like? And everything in this project was, to me, such a firm example of what that looks like.”

Redhead is succeeding Jaimie Isaac, WAG-Qaumajuq’s first curator of Indigenous and contemporary art. “Those are some really huge shoes to fill,” she says. “I’m up for the challenge, but it is intimidating, for sure.”

Her curatorial vision, honed while working on previous projects at Gallery 1C03 and windowwinnipeg, is clear. She wants to continue to expand people’s understanding of what Indigenous art is. “It’s photography, its installation, it’s everything,” she says. “And actually, so much of what Indigenous people just create is art, and that’s how they view what they do. So anything that is created by an Indigenous person could be art.”

Redhead also wants to continue challenging a narrative often embedded in colonial museums and galleries. “It’s The Vanishing Race trope, or artifacts from a race of people who aren’t going to exist into the future,” she says.

“It kind of gives us space to just be able to imagine that future, and just be present without having to be present in ways that are also still kind of harmful to us.”–Anne-Marie Redhead

To that end, she’d like to explore the idea of Indigenous futurity. “I would love to engage Indigenous artists who are working with digital media and augmented reality and things like that, because it’s artwork that is just so untethered from our current colonial reality,” she says. “And it kind of gives us space to just be able to imagine that future, and just be present without having to be present in ways that are also still kind of harmful to us.”

Redhead believes in showcasing Indigenous joy, too.

“Of course, I think it’s really important to talk about the TRC and truth and bringing to light the things that have happened — and that are still happening,” she says. “But it’s also nice to make room for joy and looking forward to the future.”

Redhead is a member of Fox Lake Cree Nation (Treaty 5) in Northern Manitoba and is of mixed heritage. Her father is Cree; her mother is descended from French settlers and is from St. Jean Baptiste.

Redhead spent her earliest childhood years in Churchill, before moving to Treaty 1. “I feel very much connected to Gillam and Churchill, that area around Hudson Bay, because I know that’s where my ancestors are from,” she says.

As a high school student in Île des Chênes, Man., Redhead, unsurprisingly, gravitated towards the arts. But she also felt deeply disconnected from the Cree part of herself.

“There were definitely times where kids would say really nasty things to me, and it was hard for me to be proud,” she says. “Because I wasn’t around them as much at that time in my life, my Cree family. And they weren’t able to be like, ‘Hey, you’re one of us, you should be proud of yourself and be proud of everything that we’ve overcome — like, you have ancestors that would just be so happy to see you here and know that you’re thriving,’ but I didn’t have that.”

But she would have that as an adult. When Redhead was 19 or 20, she reconnected with her Cree family. “I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, this is my family. I look like them. I have their nose.’ It’s just been so affirming.”

Redhead’s father is a fluent Cree speaker and is teaching her the language. “He sends me little voice messages every so often, and then I try to send voice messages back, and I feel like I never get it right,” she says. “But it’s so great. I just love hearing his stories.”

Redhead herself is an artist, though perhaps a reluctant one. She enjoys the quiet, often solitary process of creating more than seeing a finished piece out in the world.

“I feel like maybe one of the reasons why I like art so much and highlighting the work of other artists is because I just admire so much that they put it out there,” she says.

“One of my reservations is always like, I’m so scared of how people are going to perceive it. I have a hard time just putting it out there. So, it’s so funny that I’m a curator who can’t even imagine my own art being in a gallery space or anything like that.”

Redhead draws in ink and coloured pencils. She’s a writer, as well. Lately, she’s been immersing herself in beadwork.

“I have ADHD so I struggle sometimes with mindfulness and being able to, like, just sit and be present,” she says. “So I think that beading is really good for that.”

Like many women, Redhead got her ADHD diagnosis as an adult, at the beginning of the pandemic. “It’s still seen as ‘the little boy who can’t sit still’ kind of thing,” she says.

But she’d noticed it throughout her life, the inattentiveness, the difficulty being in the moment. Teachers would get frustrated with her for spacing out. In university, she struggled with writing papers and meeting deadlines.

“I had always struggled with it but it was getting worse with time, so I had to do something about it,” says Redhead, who is planning on pursuing her master’s degree in Cultural Studies. “Getting that diagnosis was very helpful.” Sharing that, too, is important to her; she knows what it’s like to feel alone in something.

“I have ADHD so I struggle sometimes with mindfulness and being able to, like, just sit and be present. So I think that beading is really good for that.”–Marie-Anne Redhead

While she relishes her (mostly) behind-the-scenes work at WAG-Qaumajuq, she’s been inspired to put her own art — and heart — out there. Eventually.

“I will do it eventually. I will get it out there,” she says. “Because I think just seeing all these Indigenous artists and writers have the courage and the strength to do so is really meaningful.”

That she’s part of a long line of Indigenous women who are changing the status quo is not lost on her, either.

“I just look at so much of the work that’s already been done for decades now by Indigenous women who have worked in cultural institutions, and there’s such a rich history there already. And so, to follow in those footsteps is truly an honour. I’m really grateful for it.”

jen.zoratti@winnipegfreepress.com

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