Bad Medicine Woman

What I appreciate about Indigenous art is it has a way to tell stories, strengthen sovereignty, reinforce traditions and give voice to Indigenous people. Indigenous art can also be political, having the ability to assert important messages and to make space for change in our society, including the transformation of Indigenous art history.

Odawa artist Daphne Odjig’s art and actions have opened doors and transformed understandings of Indigenous art. In 2014, Odjig explained that the traditional is always contemporary for Indigenous people, repositioning Indigenous arts as contributing to the future. In my language, Inuktitut, this can be expressed as sivumut, which means going towards the future together.

A trailblazer and Indigenous arts advocate since the 1960s, Odjig founded Odjig Indian Prints of Canada in Winnipeg in 1971, which she soon expanded and renamed the New Warehouse Gallery, the first Indigenous-owned art gallery in Canada. During this period, she also initiated the Professional Native Indian Artists Inc. (PNIAI). Odjig invited Jackson Beardy, Alex Janvier, Norval Morrisseau, Carl Ray, Joseph Sánchez and Eddy Cobiness to join her in working to support Indigenous artists and their art.

How someone sees and reads art emphasizes their positionality and situated knowledges. Let me explain what I mean with a personal example. While there are no snakes in my homeland, Nunavut, there is a word for snake in our language: qaglugiaq. The origin of this Inuktitut word most likely derives from the Bible. I could easily read Odjig’s Bad Medicine Woman from a Christian viewpoint, relying on Adam and Eve’s origin story where snakes, women and spirits are evil. I prefer to read this powerful artwork from a decolonial, Indigenous perspective, where women — especially female shamans — are respected and accepting of transformative guidance from spirits.

From an Anishinaabe cultural perspective, the snake in Bad Medicine Woman symbolizes transformation, not evil. Note Odjig’s positioning of the snake emerging from the uterus, to reinforce concepts of rebirth. And while the colourless spirit figures behind the woman have been mostly viewed as bad spirits, as an Inuk woman, I see them as guiding entities that only the spiritually initiated can see. Reading Bad Medicine Woman from an Inuit or Anishinaabe standpoint helps to dismantle entrenched colonial stories that shape Indigenous art history. When this piece is read through Indigenous narratives, it aligns with Odjig’s efforts to transform understandings.

Traditional and ancestral ways of knowing among Indigenous people have been, and continue to be, violently severed and collapsed from colonial forces. Odjig recognized a lack of acceptance of Indigenous art in the broader art world and saw art as a vehicle for changing misconceptions. For me, Bad Medicine Woman represents the transformative power of Indigenous art history that Odjig envisioned. It is through the work of Odjig, and others like her peers from the PNIAI, that Indigenous art was able to emerge into the art world and transform it in a more representative way. Odjig was about opening doors and inspiring future generations of artists, sivumut.

ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᓴᐅᑎ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ

ᐊᓕᐊᓇᐃᒍᓱᖕᓂᕋ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᕐᓄᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖓᓄᑦ, ᓴᙱᓕᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᓂᖅ, ᐱᒋᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓂᐱᖃᕐᓂᖓᑕ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ. ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᒐᕙᒪᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᓂᑦ ᑐᓴᒐᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓂᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᒋᔭᑉᑎᓐᓂ, ᐃᓚᒋᓗᒍ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᖃᖓᓂᑕᐃᑦ.

ᐊᑕᕙ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᑕᕝᓂ ᐊᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᒪᑐᐃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ. 2014-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᒡᔨᒡ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖅ ᐅᑉᓗᒥᓯᐅᑎᐅᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ, ᓄᑖᒧᑦ ᑐᕌᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᓯᔪᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᒧᑦ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖅᑎᒍᑦ, ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᖅ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᕈᑎᒋᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓯᕗᒧᑦ, ᑐᑭᖓ ᓯᕗᒧᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᑦᓯᒃᑯᑦ.

ᐊᖅᑯᑎ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᖓᑦ 1960-ᒥ, ᐊᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒡᔨᒡ ᐃᖅᑭᓖᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐃᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᕕᓂᐲᒃ 1971-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᖏᓪᓕᕆᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᖅᖢᒍ ᓄᑖᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᕕᒃ ᑕᑯᒐᓐᓈᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ, ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ−ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᕕᒃ ᑕᑯᒐᓐᓈᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ. ᑕᒫᓂ, ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᓯᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔨᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᖅᑭᓖᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᖏᑦ (PNIAI). ᐅᒡᔨᒡ ᑐᙵᓱᒃᑎᑦᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᔮᒃᓴᓐ ᐱᐅᑎ, ᐊᓕᒃᔅ ᔭᓐᕕᖏ, ᓄᐊᕗ ᒧᐊᕆᓱ, ᑲᕈ ᕇ, ᔪᓯᐱ ᓴᓯᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᑎ ᑯᐱᓂᔅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓂᐊᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᒃᓴᓄᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᕐᓂᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ.

ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓄᒃ ᑕᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑎᑎᖅᑭᕆᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓐᓂᕆᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᑦ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᓚᒍ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᐃᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖃᙱᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᒐᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ, ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖅᑕᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᕐᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᑉᑎᒍᑦ: ᖃᒡᓗᒋᐊᖅ. ᓇᑭᙶᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖅ ᑐᒃᓯᐅᑎᓂᙶᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᑎᑎᖅᑭᕆᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᕋ ᐅᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᓴᐅᑎ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᖕᓕᑲᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓗᒍ, ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᖅ ᐊᑕᒻ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐄᕝ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᓇᒥ ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖃᖅᑐᒥ, ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑑᕐᖓᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᑦ. ᑎᑎᖅᑭᕆᔪᒪᓂᕋ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ ᐊᐅᓚᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᓇᒥ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ − ᐱᓗᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᖓᒃᑯᑦ − ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᖏᖅᓯᒪᓂᖅ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᑦ ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔭᐅᓂᖅ ᑑᕐᖓᕐᓂᑦ.

ᐊᓂᔅᓇᐱᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ, ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖅ ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᓴᐅᑎ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᒃᑯᑕᖅ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᐱᐅᙱᓐᓂᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ. ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᐃᓂᖅ ᐅᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᖃᓄᐃᓐᓂᕆᔭᖓ ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᒡᓕᐊᖓᓂᑦ, ᐱᒋᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᕈᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᓚᖃᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᑑᕐᖓᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᑐᓄᐊᑕ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᑉ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᑐᕐᖓᐃᑦ, ᐃᓅᓗᓂ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ, ᑕᑯᔭᒃᑲ ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔨᑎᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐅᔪᑦ ᑭᓯᒥ ᑐᕐᖓᐃᑦ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᖏᑦ. ᑎᑎᖅᑭᕆᓗᒍ ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᓴᐅᑎ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᒥᑦ ᐊᓂᔅᓇᐱᒃ ᓇᖏᖅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑐᖅ ᐲᖅᓯᓂᖅ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑦᑐᐊᓂᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᖃᖓᓂᑕᕐᓂᑦ. ᑖᒻᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ ᑎᑎᖅᑭᕆᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓄᑦ, ᒪᓕᒃᑐᖅ ᐅᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᙳᕐᓂᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ.

ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓯᕗᓪᓖᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᙵᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᔪᓯᔪᑦ, ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ. ᐅᒡᔨᒡ ᐃᓕᑕᖅᓯᔪᖅ ᐱᖃᓗᐊᙱᓂᖓ ᐊᖏᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑕᑯᑉᓗᒍ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ, ᐱᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᓴᐅᑎ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᓯᔪᖅ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᓴᙱᔪᖅ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᖃᖓᓕᑕᐃᑦ ᐅᒡᔨᐅᑉ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᒐᖓᒍᑦ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᒡᔨᐅᑉ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ PNIAI−ᑯᑦ, ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᑐᑦ ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᐅᒡᔨᒡ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᒪᑐᐃᖅᓯᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᒧᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓄᑦ, ᓯᕗᒧᑦ.

Krista Ulujuk Zawadski is an independent curator from Nunavut.