Posts tagged ‘Indigenous’

The Inner Me

“I never travel without my diary.  One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”  – Oscar Wilde

Cue this music up before reading further:

And so here we are at the end of another year…  Tomorrow night’s party scene is still up for grabs, we haven’t booked any seats at any shows, so the what have you is mightily up in the air.  New Year’s Eve…  and standing on the doorstep to another whole DIFF decade.  As my dad would say:  after we figured we’d lived through the war we started watching our step a bit more in detail.

Well I’m not in where the bullets are flying and the bombs are going off, but I’m out here alone, my 3 older brothers are dead, my 3 younger ones missing.  I would have liked to have spent at least an hour with them over the holiday season but none of that came to pass.  Instead I’m alone here in my crib.

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Bright eyed and bushy tailed: but a castle aint no home when you’re always in it alone.

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I always wonder where they are: in heaven or in hell.  I’m not a christian like them so I don’t know nothing much about it.  All I know is I joined the resistance when I was age 13 and I’d like to entertain them here at my place, all these years later.

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They always said I’d likely go far, after we were reintroduced, all of us, in our very early 20’s or late teens, I was only 18 at the time and hadn’t seen any of them since 1969, or was it 1971?  All I know is when I saw them again, I knew I didn’t want to be like them.  I’d been away far too long and after sitting with them, I knew I’d likely never be going back.  Little did I know, at that time, they were all trauma survivors with this thing they call in mod times:  PTSD.  They didn’t get the special jungle training that I got and they didn’t have a Major like I had.

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I’ve sat here alone for quite some time, wondering about that shack in the woods, back on the blacker side of the rez, back in the mid to late 60’s.  I know we had a wood stove in there because I remember hauling wood back to the house and I have this vague memory of my mom standing there with an arm load of poplar, cut yes, but not split.  When was my dad planning on doing that?

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In the past decade I’ve been there myself, on my own paradise on the range: hauling wood, poplar too, but doing it the old fashioned way, bringing it out one load at time, using a wheelbarrow, and getting a pretty decent work out along the way.  Of course the road out of the back woods was a 2% decline back to the house, so it was easy rolling out those 12 cords.

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In mod times, like here and now, I wonder, how warm those rooms could have been at night, back in 68: who was up tending the fire?  If memory serves, the upstairs had 2 little bedrooms with old mattresses that were falling apart and coming undone and who knows what kind of hell went on up there…  I was going to ask my older brother about it.  I came up with the idea in a July, a few days later he fell over dead and took the stories with him. He’s been dead now, has it been 5 years?

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When I was in university ages ago, an old Indian man sat us down and he said you boys have nothing to worry about right now, but if you have the good fortune of getting as old as me, down the road in those days you’ll be visited by many an old memory, things you’d left alone up until now, as an old man.  I silently and invisibly scoffed at the idea, I was only 22 at the time.  Pretty soon an Anishnabe Kwe walked in and she gave us the Sweetgrass teaching.  She was working on a braid and explaining things to us and she looked at me and said:  if you reach the age you’ll find yourself going through some strange times and maybe seeing some strange things, either here or over there.  Once again I, to myself, scoffed at the idea and I remember it well:  It won’t happen to me.  That is what I said, back when I was 22, when I was as terrible as an army poised for battle.

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But here we are, like they said, at that time, the empty nest looming like never before.  And all of the brothers now long gone.  I have no idea where the survivors are, how they’re doing, what is going on south of us.  South of me.  There is no “us” anymore.

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Me too, chief.  We’re starting to get there!  I see young whippersnappers all the time and I know I am no longer them!  No middle age either!  Nope.  We’re off to another place, if all goes well, with a wee spot of wisdom or a splash of education, maybe we can get through this.  My dad has been gone a long time but I sure do hear his voice these days, telling me what to watch out for, to watch my step, and above all, what to be thankful for.

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I’m not much of a Christmas person, like I said, I’m not a christian, and I don’t buy into how they sell it: that long ago story from overseas.  It makes for a great cash grab yes, in these mod times, but I’d rather give them the cash than to some corporate who ever and so that is what we do.  I’ve never been one for standing in a line over there at the mall.

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Xmas eve has come and gone.  Xmas day is here and been.  Boxing Day I was in the car, alone, and coming back to here.  And through those days I never heard from any of them.  The survivors I mean.

We haven’t booked any seats at any shows for tomorrow night but I hear it and see it all around:  2020:  The Roaring Twenties!  I guess they are.  And they surely were!  I don’t plan on wandering around these empty rooms on such a night, so if you don’t hear from me between now and then:  Best wishes and I hope you have a happy new year, and I hope this time, 12 months from now, we’ll be sharing a few more stories!

And so this was written right before NYE, right before the pandemic landed on us and turned 2020 into a very weird year.  I still haven’t seen any of the younger lads, they’re out there somewhere.  But the oldest one comes to visit me every now and then, or so it seems.  And it’s weird as he visits as the 19 year old he was, when he passed, and here he is visiting this lad up into his 50’s.  There is something strange about that.

Also strange, I was reading this post and it mentions my dad who lived through the war and whose voice I hear all the time, telling me what to watch out for.  It also mentions my dad who never split the wood we were bringing out of the woods back in 68.  They’re two vastly different men.  One man left me in the woods to starve to death, the other saved my life.  

I might have to go into quarantine for a few weeks and if that is the case I’m going to bring this typewriter with me and write this thing tentatively called “Fighting In Hell” about my art journey as a 60’s Scoop Survivor.  Other cooler heads in the outfit want to call it “Crashing the Thunderbird”, so the title for this thing is still up for grabs.  One thing is for sure, it IS an art journey and I need several days and nights to sit down in a room with a view, in more social isolation, and write this thing.  Maybe play some Erik Satie while I’m writing the first draft.  

I’ll let you know how it goes.

March 11, 2021.

Woodland School style by twinravens

(This was originally posted way back ages ago…  )

here is my version of the Anishnaabe Woodland School of art, founded by the great Norval Morrisseau, and introduced to the art world in Toronto, way back in September 1962.  what a great artist journey/adventure Norval M. went on after that!  all the way to the National Gallery of Canada in 2006/07.  i’m a long way from having my work in the N.G.C.!  but here is my version anyway:

A Self Portrait on November 30th by Mark Seabrook

Self Portrait on November 30th, acrylic on canvas, 30×40 inches.  Private collection.

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Feeding the Wolf, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Private collection.

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Anishnabe at Full Moon, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

Bear Clan with White Raven

Bear Clan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

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Water Spirit, Homage to Norval M., acrylic on canvas, 24×36 inches.  Private collection.  (the paint wasn’t even dry when that one went out the door!)

Moose Nahmiwan
Moose Nahmiwan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches. Painted on the Range in March 2015.  Private Collection.
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Indian Residential School Survivor, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Available for purchase:  $4000

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Anishnabe Woodland Nights, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Private collection.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches, getting ready to ship out.  Private collection.

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Me, standing next to a Norval Morrisseau acrylic on canvas at the National Gallery of Canada.  A lot of us anishnaabe boys who are painters owe a salute to the great Norval M. and his high and mighty work.

(This is March 10, 2021: A quick art show for you recent followers of the twinravens blog:  we have more on the way!)

memory lane: life and times of a famous native canadian artist…

(this was originally posted in September 2017)

ha!  i say that jokingly!  because i’m out here on the range, going on 21 days now without a note of art conversation, idea expressed verbally, or hint of a hand to hold while under the mighty Milky Way.  she’s new moon boys.  and so, alone under the almighty, with eagles roosting down by the river (what music they make first thing in the morning!) and the great wide open:  there is room to stretch the “art making arms”.  we have some good looking pieces but we’re also getting down to the bottom of the paint barrels.

so last night around 7 i stowed the gear, set a table for one, lit a candle, cracked open a Paul Jaboulet Aine Cornas Domaine de Saint Pierre (2012), sparked up the youtube for a little dinner music and instead got attracted to a documentary about alien abductions.  i watched the nutty scenes, heard the kook house stories, heard the so called experts blabbering on about all this stars and moon and space stuff and…  well the truth is i didn’t know if it was the creep show scenes they were mustering in the doc (the greys were coming out of a bright white light), the gacked out music on the doc soundtrack, the fancy French Rhone, or the 21 days alone at sea, but somehow that alien abduction jazz started rattling my rusty cage!

i put my knife and fork down and looked out the jumbo windows which face the east, they were wide flipping open of course, and kind of wondered if there was anything out there.  the pooch was sitting at attention, head up, ears tuned into something going on out there to the north east.  you have to remember:  out here in the boons, there is no light pollution, no noise pollution, no neighbours, and a whole lot of SFA once the lights go out.  SFA i mean if your jiggly mind doesn’t start playing tricks.

of course we have this guy, Roger, in the house.  Shell brought him in from Ottawa and so here he is, in the house, staring at yours truly, Travis Walton wannabe/Little Boy Blue, alone at his dining table…

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well 21 day days alone…  (see what i mean?), nights too, might cause a fuss when you’re sailing across the universe.  slip that stupid documentary with the spook house scenes in there and you’re cooking with gas.  so i booted up my Facebook and wrote a farewell message to the world, going on about this alien abduction thing and told them i was tired of hiding behind the couch with my bottle of french vin and was going to scurry off to bed, like Yoda in his death scene.

i got up to my room with a view and saw this guy staring at me!!!

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“An Ojibwe in Quebec:  A Self Portrait on June 14th”, 2004, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches.  Morgan H. Collection.  (We’re holding onto it for now.)

so by this point in time i’m about ready to soil my drawers.  i thought a little night music might help ease the creeps and me into la la land so i hit the random button on the remote and on came this:

(note the house on the open range and the one tree…  )(looking kind of like a place we sort of know…  )

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my crib, on the open range…

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sunrise on the range, Sept. 21.  the last full day of summer…

and so!  i made it through the night.  i did NOT get abducted by aliens, at least not that i can remember, Roger is still over there gawking at me, and “A Self Portrait on June 14th” is still in the collection here, on hold.  i thought i’d jump in the car and take a little ride into the city and see the madness first hand, up close, where i could catch a whiff, and maybe dust off the cobwebs that will surely develop after 21 days alone at sea, but a cooler and calmer mind at the other end of a long distance phone call this morning put those plans on ice.

and so it is back to the brushes, here, deep in Indian Summer, safe and sound back on earth.

(today is March 4, 2021, minus 20 C this morning.  i love to look back: ah what glorious days there, looking back at them now.  and in Indian Summer, on the range, a paradise!  we’ll get back there some day.)

twinravens ART on the street, Vol. 2

Power Bird at New Moon, in the hands of a lady!

wasn’t sure where they were off to with the idea but i left it in their good hands AND!!! ta da!!!

Power Bird at New Moon, on McArthur and something or other, Vanier, Ontario

photo taken on November 10th, on the record breaking day for warm weather. it was a wonderful 21 C that morning! perfect for a walk up to McArthur and Allen Blvd. not much to see up that way but now there is! a twinravens original up there, scaring the wits outa the locals! ha!

on November 5th, 4 p.m.

it’s not just the ladies who like to see flowers delivered! these arrived at my office just in time! (another time, another life time ago, when they arrived, i was at the piano teaching a gang of grade 5 students the business of 4/4 timing!)

the railroad tracks out of Toronto, going up through Markham and into the never never

during that glorious stretch of super warm weather in November, we spent a few afternoons in some unusual places: on this day, on the tracks going north east out of Markham. (i scammed a few of those glass insulators from that post up there!)

the ojibwe tree, 10×20 inches, winter 2011, Private Collection

and so we’re in it now: the leaves are down, the warm climes might be over till next year, and gosh is it going to be XMAS season soon?

back in August, on the Range

i might be a fan of winter but i’m a bigger fan of summer! what fun to be working on a tan! but we are here in Canada! Xmas and snow, dreaming of a white christmas…

the wilds of winter on the range!

i had a much more mellow photo, one of those classic winter mornings where the earth is brighter than the sky! no wind. smoke drifting lazily. the open range with a house and blaze of warm light inside. i can’t find the photo so here instead is a snap shot of an insane wind howling over everything… we have those days too. either way lets be thankful we can see them.

twinravens ART on the street

that is “Power Bird”, acrylic on canvas board, 14×18 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook! the lovely gal holding the painting is from Central Asia! and we are on the streets of Vanier on October 23rd.

the photographer is from Central America! and of course yours truly is from Central Canada: the grand and glorious Manitoulin Island, Ontario, to be exact.

so yes… what we’re doing there, i’m not a hundred percent sure where we’re off to with the idea but it belongs to them and i’ll wait and see what becomes of it. stayed tuned for an update.

Power Bird, the last of the finished paintings before the pandemic hit and shut us down. we at twinravens had a wonderful list of road shows we were to attend, bringing the art to the people, but sadly: no dice.

and no Halloween this year… now i seriously have the blues over that one as this boy is a serious halloween fan! more than xmas. more than new year. Halloween is THE fave, but sadly, and again: no dice. what to do with this Saturday night?

it might be me and where the wild things are come Halloween this year. (painting: anishnabe at night, acrylic on canvas board, 14×14 inches, c. 2005. Private Collection.)

The Swanky 9th, Vol. 2

before sunrise on Sunday, October 4th: up here in the cosy climes, looking out at highway 7 and the town of Markham, lights in every direction, and time on our hands! you see all of our autumn and xmas art show and sales opportunities we had booked ages ago, have been cancelled! NO ART SHOWS since my last gig back on March 7th: The York University Pow wow.

Me and What’s his name…

also cancelled: my trip back to Scotland! me and Joe were called up and we were ready for that trip! i haven’t seen Joe since i don’t know when, and i haven’t seen this guy, not sure what his name is, since when we were over there.

4 weeks at the office, way back in, was it June 2018? ah well… we’ll get back to the MacKays dining room and The Coach House one of these days.

so yes. no art gigs. no movie gigs. no trips to the NGC. and five will get you ten says all the Halloween parties will be cancelled…

Halloween 2019: we always did the parties and i was glad there were so many swinging bashes to go to!

don’t judge me till you’ve walked a mile in my shoes… (Ha! a darling friend of mine said she couldn’t get 10 steps in those!)(Halloween 2019)

Anishnabe Woodland style Moose, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook. 36×48 inches, sharpie marker on shipping grade cardboard. drawn on September 30, 2020. i’m still doing art classes but ever since March 13th we’ve been doing them “virtually”, online with Facebook and Youtube. here is the result of class number 11: What can be done in 25 minutes using Sharpie Markers, cardboard and 36×48 inches!

let me tell you that a virtual classroom is far and away from the heavy duty magic that goes into a “live performance”! (my art classes are a bit of a wild and crazy extravaganza!)

from the pages of Book 8: Art Journals and Found Poetry. in class 12 we covered the repurposed books and black out poetry/art journaling adventure. i heard back from a few participants! they asked: how can you do that to a book?!!! my answer is: these are repurposed books from the goodwill, next stop for these books is the landfill! so we’re doing our families a favour by creating something that is going to last for 50 or 60 years.

(when we get the Hard Cover version of SUN INFINITY MOON i’ll try some black out/found poetry and art journaling with that book of HORROR!)

Art Journals and Found Poetry using repurposed books.
The Clone Trees, Found Poetry, Book 3

and so we’re NOT gearing up for a trip downtown this morning to some swanky venue, art show and sales op., but instead pondering a walk around the pond over there at Toogood, Unionville. and this afternoon we’re taking the back roads from Markham back to O Town and we won’t be in a rush.

Summer Vacation (2)

Anishnabe with Bear Clan, acrylic on canvas, 24×36″

And so! Neon Raven Art Gallery up there on the West Bay Indian Rez IS closed! Well that’s too bad as we had a lot of artwork moving through there. I must be cursed! Pacha Arts at Bloor and Bathurst also folded up but for a completely diff reason, if you catch my drift! And Cube Gallery in O Town is also cobwebbed and boarded up! Seems wherever I hang my pictures-we close the gallery! (We’ll have to take that up with the boys in accounting.)

Big Sky Country on the south east of Manitoulin Island!

The other day an army taxi flew by, 1500 feet? Other than that the sky out here is ruled by the birds and clouds and the colour blue!

Lost in my own back yard…

It hasn’t always been super blue skies out here, the other day we did have rain and some heavy duty overcast-not a bikini day. So I suited up in my jungle gear and went in the opposite direction-to the back 50 where I hoped to come across some straggler firewood. When we first landed here, back in 2009, I went out back and cleared an area in the woods, “The Boys Club”, where we lads could gather and enjoy fine cigarettes and german pilsners, woodsman conversation and general issue Nature Therapy. I had been working on the hide out for 6 years and it was becoming quite the gentleman’s club.

The other day I was out there and… Well. Mother Nature has reclaimed the place! To start with I couldn’t find the entrance trail into the forest. Once I got in there and after stumbling around in the mega jungles for a half hour I had no clue as to where I was-no where near the club. Turns out I was 500 meters south of where I was supposed to be!

The Boys Club, 4 years after being left untended.

When I finally did arrive at the club I found this! The last time I visited, 4 years ago, those maples weren’t there and neither were the billions of raspberries! No trace of my trails or lounge area! Awe shucks…

A blaze on the river, first one in 4 years!

The skies did clear and we managed to spark one up! Fire ban was lifted and so we had a good one roaring complete with the Milky Way above.

It was tough to drag some of those kids away from their devices…

The ever famous campfire on a summer night: sweet! I quite enjoyed that!

My old buddy, the Great Jasmine Moon

Jazz brought out the marshmallows and the hot diggity dogs, we did alright with it. Jazz and I and our campfire days go way back to a cool 2010, late spring.

Perfect summer evening on the range.

Soon the gang arrived and we torched that straggler wood down to nothing but ashes. Fun times with fun folks and some fun conversation!

Well there is a lot more but we have some things we need to do and of course the sun is blazing so sitting here at the dining room table makes no sense! I’ve got me a brand new bikini and we’re putting it to the test with 9 big ones! Today we’re going for day 10: big sky, big sun, big tan!

More to come!

Heat Waving!

friday in the slab was unlike any other day in many a moon! we had plans but the almighty laughed at those.

Friday, July 10, 2020

the plan was to jet the city around 6 but we had to save that for the 4 a.m. Saturday morning bug out: the heat had us knocked out Friday night. it was a beautiful early morning drive down the 416 and the 401-super green and blue with a much needed summer rain, a sky filled with heavy duty clouds in all shades of grey: beauty scenes! no time for pictures though as we had a date at the other end, up there on the swanky 9th!

Toronto, near 1 Yonge Street, smoking hot.

we were out the door fast and going downtown. check out that stupid mask i’m hanging onto… what is the world coming to? i’ve got my snarly face on for the good folks at the waterfront.

Viewing art shows in the time of Covid 19: social distancing.

we were at the Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit, Physically Distanced Walk In, and folks it was not a sold out show! not at 1 p.m. it was well worth the time and effort! the soundtrack is was what struck me. i heard Samuel Barber’s Adagio Op. 11 arranged for piano, and let me tell you hearing that with those Van Gogh images sailing across those big dark walls…

this was not the version in the show but wow! what a moment of heavy duty wonder. good thing they had us hiding our emotions behind those stupid masks!

viewing art and art shows in July 2020.

some music, with your heaviest of life events attached to them, will certainly stir the emotions! i was happy it was dark in there and i had that dumb mask on. so yes! a 40 minute show, well worth the time and $$$.

Beautiful downtown Toronto, Saturday afternoon, July 11.

in that intense heat and humidity none of us wanted to stick around the downtown! we were in the limo and going back to the swanky 9th in short order.

Found Poetry, Book 5, a work in progress.

i’m having fun with the last hundred pages in Book 5, found poetry, repurposed books, art journaling, artist journey, creative adventures, other ways of writing and arranging.

interesting stuff on Instagram last week.

i’m liking what these young artists are creating. we may have thought about it ages ago but they’re doing the actual! nice work!

The Green and Blue, late July, many moons ago

the boss has cut me some slack! so i’ll be moving to the rear with the gear in a few short business days and let me tell you several days on the open range at that time in the summer is going to be serious medicine. serious healing! serious green and blue! and how lucky am i! we have our friends arriving at the same time. i so look forward to those wonderful days in the sunshine and those nights under the stars!

The open range, on an August night, many moons ago.

so maybe the lawn won’t look like this when we get there but i’ll see what i can do with the turn around in the greens keeping after a night of star gazing.

sunrise on the range, many moons ago

one thing is for sure: it’s wonderful to know we have a place tucked away where we can go when they cut us loose from the city. and if this heat wave continues you know where i’ll be!

Indigenous Writing

we’re still up here on the swanky 9th: Sunday morning in a blaze of sunshine, clock watching, and fussing with the re do of SUN INFINITY MOON.

Version 2

here is the new cover idea in basic. the artwork is “Feeding the Wolves”, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches. the painting is in a private collection on the other side of Canada, last i heard. we’re going to drop the warning on the cover and that will be the end of the “course language” fiasco!

Crossroad Cant, published way back in 1997

i wish i’d kept the review someone sent me of this little book of poems. the woman who reviewed us loved Mary and Ann but hated me and Shafiq. she called my poetry: “the whining and maligning of Mark Seabrook”. ha! i was whining about the 60’s Scoop Experience, racism directed at Indigenous People, culture genocide, the raping of the Canadian environment, the death of a close friend, sweet memory lane and old love stories. so yes, in her view: i was whining and maligning. in my view we were slightly ahead of the curve with said subjects.

the view from the 9th: Saturday afternoon, June 27th

you do not want to see what is below that frame: trust me on that one! inside the 9th we’re in AC and yeah man: we’re chilling.

Beautiful Markham, Ontario, Canada

the sky was filled with drama last night. too bad we had all this crap in the way of seeing such wonder. and don’t forget the roar, the noise and the exhaust that goes with a photo like this… (i’m going back to the range next weekend.)

the utmscribes bit i was going on about yesterday
fun stuff! many thanks to utmscribes!

i like how they didn’t call it whining and maligning! i guess you could say the world has come a long way since 1997.

darn rights!

every now and again i see something on instagram that is worth another look! i like that one.

hmmm…

60’s Scoop: we’ve been there and done that! and let me tell you, that kid, age 0 to 6: that was a nightmare!

Thanksgiving at the River

we shall get ourselves safely back to that river one of these days soon where we can spend the rest of our days in peace.

Paintings, Writings, Music and road tripping Native Style

Power Bird on the Range, acrylic on canvas board, 7×9″, Artist Collection.

in the spirit of Pride, the Power Bird on the Range, artwork by Mark Seabrook. ah yes was it the summer of 2013 when we walked out to what became “the Art Bridge” and re visited our landscape painting? the Art Bridge is part of the laneway into the range, back home on the island. and the “twinravens” landscape is something we were developing way back in art school: many moons ago. developing yes. unfortunately not connecting the dots, never following through. the idea was brewing alright and one day when i get home to the range i’ll snap a photo of one of the paintings from that era, where the brewing was beginning! in recent years, in full brew (ha!), we managed create paintings like this:

For Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women, Acrylic on canvas, 36×58 inches

i’m pretty happy with that one. many thanks of course to the good folks at Abstract Expressionism, c. 1950.

Body, Mind, Spirit. Acrylic on canvas board, 12×12 inches. Artist Collection.

we’re going to hang onto this one as we were almost there with the idea. what we need though is a block of time back at the bridge! maybe we can get back there in August, as i have been thinking about that one!

Clouds over Lake Mindemoya, acrylic on canvas, 16×20″. Artist Collection.

we want to remember too, that THIS was part of that landscape idea from art school. this one was painted during 3rd year and thank goodness we still have this sketch! the large painting of this idea is the first painting i sold! many thanks to those doctors from Toronto. (Doc: if you’re reading this please contact me as i’d love to see the big painting again.)

Anishnabe at Full Moon, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20″. Artist Collection.

we want to remember we still have this going on and its going to continue to go on!

The Lottery Ticket in Thunderbird Stories Edition One

i want to say Aanii and Boozhoo to any of you folks here from the UTM Scribes on Instagram! “The Lottery Ticket” is a part of the horror story: SUN INFINITY MOON which is my first attempt at a novella.

the famous: Moosonee Proof!

yes we kind of rushed through production last summer and what they gave us was a book full of howling errors! errors like cockroaches, i didn’t see all of them until i started paying attention last autumn. so if you come across one of these copies, what it is is the Artist Proof. sorry about that. it is being retooled and we are soon printing the cleaned up version with a brand new cover. example of howling errors: right there on the cover: the clown changed my “coarse” language to his “course” language…

you see this is what happens when…

yeesh.

anyway. we move forward.

Very much still active a full 25 years later!

the famed twinravens Summer Mission Statement. words we lived by up until just a short 4 years ago when this road trip started. we have had bits and pieces of this mission statement covered since but some that have not been covered are: “swim out beyond the confines of the cover, into the big water where the big fish like to go”, “spend a morning, afternoon and evening with your mom and dad and have them tell you about the times when they were your age”, and “design your own tattoos”. my tattoos have faded away, now long gone. (Meen Geezis translates to: Berry Moon, or July)

Page 178, from INFINITY

yes there is a lot of coarse language and mad capped high jinx going on within the pages of INFINITY but the same can be said about SUN and MOON. this ain’t no Indian Disneyland type story.

Refer to: this piece at cbc.ca

The Doc Project·Personal Essay

My adoptive parents tried to erase my Indigenous identity. They failed.

Kim Wheeler was adopted during the Sixties Scoop and fought to find her way back to her culture

Kim Wheeler · Posted: Jun 18, 2020 5:29 PM ET | Last Updated: June 18

well that is Kim Wheeler’s tale. mine is quite different. my parents did NOT try to erase my Indian identity. what they did instead was save my life.

but going through that adventure: The 60’s Scoop, for me, sure did open a lot of doors where a natural born artist like me can stand and see a great many things, people included. i was one of the lucky ones.

Words and music by Shag Shaganash

i didn’t write any part of that one. that’s all Shag and his work. but that’s my band and lets hope and pray one day we get that show back on the road. the world could use some NR.

Words by Mark Seabrook, Music by Shawn Corbiere, Vocal by Jen B.

i did write the words to this one and you can hear in the lyrics: that 60’s scoop experience… many thanks to Mr. S.C. for the music and the great Jen Brunelle for the vocal. Danny Boy on the drums! (Hey that record was nominated for a Juno Award! just saying.)

well we are here and it is now: we’re on the swanky 9th. the cook is working up something very nice for lunch and the afternoon is all ours: what to do with Saturday afternoon?!!! ha ha. i say that knowing the mad capped twinravens classic: “What to do with Sunday afternoon?” (on my youtube channel), some of you found offensive and accused me of being obtuse!

Summer in the city

what we have to do is make up our mind which is our best foot and put it forward! GO!