Vancouver Happenings - Tania Willard's Photolithics and BLKNWS

Photolithics 

I went to North Vancouver to check out Tania Willard's exhibit Photolithics at the Polygon Gallery. If you are able to go to North Vancouver to check it out, I highly recommend it. It's available until May 24, 2026. There is a public celebration with the artist on March 29th. 

If you can't go there in person, a cool feature of the website is these sections where it shows a piece of art and then there is audio of the artist speaking to the piece. The artist's spoken words, including her use of Secwépemc language, really brings the work to life. Here is an example of her introducing the exhibit. There are several others here (scroll to bottom of the page). 

The gallery also published a brochure of the exhibit. It is a twenty-two page detailed guide. In the guide, she says:

I am accompanied by dreams of ancestors. In this research I seek to re-awaken these dreams into a reality wherein our people are empowered and our histories are recognized, our land claims are honoured and our belongings and ancestral remains returned. Of course this is a tall order, but it is in faith of the ways in which our work resonates, the metaphysics (Frideres 42) of ancestral knowledge that I place this dream. I like to think that part of our ancestors’ rationale for depositing their knowledge in museums was that they dreamed that one day we, as future grandchildren, would find this knowledge and bring it back. (Willard in Polygon, 2026, p.6). 

I love this idea of viewing oneself as future grandchildren. I also love the connection between dreams and empowerment. In my dissertation I explored Indigenous science fiction as dream space (Grass, 2025, p.102). I think similarly art functions as a dream space too. 

The explanation for one of her pieces, Snowbank and Other Investments, says: 

Accompanying these living processes since the beginning of this decade has been a series of emblematic works entitled Snowbank and Other Investments (2020-ongoing). In the very cold winter of 2019/2020, Willard confronted a large bank of snow outside her home in Secwepemcúĺucw and began to more actively question the substance of conventional banking in this context. She decided to experiment: projecting the words “Indian Land Question” onto the white surface, photographing this, pairing it with another photograph of a hide she was stretching (itself overlayed with the words “Land Bank” in an echo of the rallying cry “Land Back”), trans-mounting the composite image onto Plexiglas, etching diagrams of gem cuts onto that Plexiglas, and further embellishing the results. More such vibrant works would follow. Their proportions and intricacies, as well as the financial terms they carry, evoke banknotes in an altogether new form of currency – one valuing connection to land. Put into circulation inside the main gallery, they announce a future that is as vast as the deep time of her historically and geologically rooted works. This is a future dreamt by Willard’s ancestors. Her determination to “re-awaken these dreams into a reality wherein our people are empowered and our histories are recognized, our land claims are honoured and our belongings and ancestral remains returned” meets us today and becomes a shared process inside her exhibition. (Willard in Polygon, 2026, p11). 

I like the challenge of trying to imagine the futures dreamt of by our ancestors, especially when thinking about what we value and how we assign/express value. 

BLKNWS 

I also recently saw BLKNWS: Terms and Conditions. I didn't take notes because I saw it in theatre. The gist - from memory. The protagonist's father gave her brother a copy of Africana: The Encyclopedia of the African and African-American Experience. The protagonist reflects on the value of such a project and the value of W.E.B Du Bois's work. But she also critically reflects on some of the limitations of his legacy with respect to gender. For example, she notes an event which earned all of the men involved entries in the encyclopedia, but the woman present does not have her own entry. Or, in another example, he interviews a household which is not a nuclear family and fails to see it through a strengths based lens. Within Indigenous scholarship, we too sometimes grapple with the fact that some foundational thinkers within Indigenous studies are both brilliant and flawed. How do we take these figures into the future in a way where we can celebrate their positive impact in such a way that we do not replicate their shortcomings?

At the beginning of the film there is a note to approach the movie as an album and abandon conventional notions of plot. There is a through plot - a journalist on a super cool floating ship which is crossing the Atlantic to bring people from the Americas to Africa. Then there are flashes of documentary-like content, but it's hard to know what is truth and what is fiction. For example, in the film Du Bois goes door to door conducting interviews of black households. That is something which happened. But then there are other side plots which this TIFF article refer to as speculative narrative (Picard, 2025). The speculative narratives are presented as news coverage of things which did not occur. The TIFF article also describes the creation process as an "act of collective fabulation." (Picard, 2025).

I thought the film was visually and conceptually stunning. I will probably watch it again at home sometime. It's available on youtube and itunes. 

Works Cited 

Picard, A. (2025). BLKNWS: Terms and Conditions. Toronto, Ontario: TIFF Lightbox. https://tiff.net/films/blknws-terms-conditions

Polygon. (2026). Tania Willard Photolithics Brochure. North Vancouver, British Columbia: Polygon. https://thepolygon.ca/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/Tania-Willard-Only-Available-Light-brochure-1.pdf

*Note - this blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/ 

Dazhindamang Ge-Izhi-Bimaadiziyang: Talking about how we will be living in the future

 Patty Krawec is an Anishinaabe social worker, podcaster, and author. I was very intrigued that she references bad Indians in her book title. It is a historical reference to American President Theodore Roosevelt who said that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. Over the years, various Indigenous creatives have responded to that quote by declaring themselves bad Indians.

Before picking up the book, I listened to some podcasts with Patty in order to help me decide whether or not to read the book. In this one, I learned that she wrote her first book because she was listening to a sermon, and she had a reaction to something said in the sermon. Then I listened to this podcast, where several people are in conversation about Daniel Heath Justice's book Why Indigenous Literatures Matter. One of the guests is Daniel Heath Justice himself. Janet Marie Rogers is also a guest. Another one of the guests is a non-Indigenous guy from Texas who studies theology and writes about religious themes. He randomly mentions seminary in the podcast. What struck me most about the podcast that I listened to was the way that people from different backgrounds were able to find common ground through books. 

Something that Patty is very forthright about in her podcast is the fact that she was not raised by her Indigenous family. She thought that she was "the last dodo" because she didn't have any exposure to other Indigenous people and as a young person she learned about Indigenous people from Little House on the Prairie and Bonanza. And she emphasizes that it is important to keep that in mind. In many ways, we as listener are joining her on her own ongoing identity exploration. What I appreciate about her work is that she is very enthusiastic about Indigenous literature. 

Having listened to a few podcasts, I decided that yes, I would buy her book. The cover art is by NiCole Hatfield. 

A lot of the chapters are inspired by related podcast episodes, however, the podcast did not have an episode on Indigenous futurisms, so this chapter contains entirely new content. The podcast is called Ambe. The premise of the podcast is that she spends a year reading Indigenous books and bringing people together to talk about them. So then the title of the book, Bad Indians Book Club, is reflective of the fact that she has been running this book club (podcast) for a year, and is now putting her thoughts on paper. 

The book's introduction contains summaries of the chapters. Here is the summary of the Indigenous futurisms chapter: 

We end with chapter 8, titled "Dibaadodamaang Ge-Izhi-Bimaadiziyang," which means us talking about how we will be living in the future - through speculative fiction or stories about our realities. When Bad Indians write our own speculative fiction and fantasy and science fiction - when we create, as Justice calls them, "wonderworks" - we are able to imagine ourselves there, imagine ourselves having a future on our own terms, not some space colony DEI project. (Krawec, 2025, p.43). 

She begins by grounding this chapter in an Anishinaabe story, and a discussion on how many Indigenous cultures have stories about worlds ending and worlds beginning. Then she references Daniel Heath Justice: 

Justice also makes the intriguing observation that writing about the future asks us to think about what kind of ancestors we will become. As future generations walk backward into the future, what will they see when they fix their eyes on us? (Krawec, 2025, p.190). 

Following that, she briefly touches on Afrofuturisms, including the work of Octavia Butler and adrienne marie brown. 

The texts that she talks about include:

• A Snake Falls to Earth 
• Prey 
• As Many Ships as Stars 
• Thor: Ragnarok 
• A Short History of the Blockage: Giant Beavers, Diplomacy, and Regeneration in Nishnaabewin
• Buffalo is the New Buffalo 
• Moon of the Crusted Snow 
• Moon of the Turning Leaves 
• Marrow Thieves 
• Star Wars - A New Hope 
• Sword Stone Table 
• Moonshot 

I was pleased that she talked about two books that I had not heard of (Sword Stone Table and As Many Ships as Stars) which I plan on adding to my reading list. A strength of her writing style is that she puts the books in conversation with each other. She will talk about an idea that she likes in one book, and then that will lead her to talk about an idea that she liked in another book, and so on. So it doesn't feel like she is just listing books. She is connecting the books with each other. 

I was also pleased that she put Thor: Ragnarok on there, because it doesn't get enough love. Also, I started a Disney Plus subscription just to watch Prey. Highly recommend. But I'm also going to cancel my subscription soon.

Overall, I really enjoyed this chapter. 

In terms of the book overall, her style of writing is very much the style of talking that is in podcasts. Reflective, touching on the zeitgeist, kind of organic, very personal. For example, sometimes she will just randomly start talking about a meme that she saw on social media. I find a lot of podcasters are big on non-conformity and being contrarian . Whatever material is in front of them, they have a "yeah but" quip or they have a hot take on a commonly accepted sentiment. Patty's podcast adheres to that podcast convention. For example, in one of her podcasts someone responds to a tweet and they take issue with the word Indigenous and the idea of identity. But you kind of have to take these hot takes with a grain of salt. A lot of Indigenous people put a lot of time and effort into UNDRIP and the UN definition of Indigenous, so to randomly just declare it to be inappropriate of whatever is ahistorical and not really a studied approach. Similarly in BC, Indigenous educators have formally communicated through the First People's Principles of Learning that exploration of identity is important. In terms of all the fights that one could take on in the world, why choose the word Indigenous or the concept of identity? But that's what podcasters do sometimes because it is entertaining - they spontaneously take a contrarian approach to random things. It's a Seinfeld-esque qualify of the medium. It would not be a very long or interesting podcast if someone said, "what do you think about the word Indigenous and the concept of identity?" and the other person said, "let me think about it, read about it, consult people that I trust who know a lot about the history of the word, and I'll get back to you." Sometimes in the book she refers to things without citing them. For example, she said that the Maori have a saying that they walk backwards into the future with their eyes fixed on the past. It's a beautiful saying, but it's not cited. With Indigenous knowledge, I think it is important to say where you got your information. So for those reasons, while I do find this book entertaining, I would probably not use it in the classroom unless I had done some front end loading around Indigenous Knowledge/research ethics in advance of using the text.

That being said, as a fan of Indigenous literature, I did find the book to be a worthwhile way to spend some time. 

Works Cited 

Krawec, P. (2025). Bad Indians Book Club: Reading at the Edge of a Thousand Worlds. Fredericton, New Brunswick: Goose Lane Books. 

Afro-futurisms and Indigenous futurisms

 The phrase “Indigenous futurisms” is often used to describe Indigenous speculative fiction. According to David Gaertner, Grace Dillon was the first to use the term “Indigenous futurisms” in 2003 (Gaertner, 2015, para. 13). Gaertner says “Indigenous futurism itself draws on Afrofuturism… In many ways Afrofuturism and Indigenous Futurism are pragmatic antidotes to contemporary reconciliation narratives, insofar as they look towards the future survivance of Indigenous peoples and people of colour within a system that, reconciled or not, continues to inflict violence against their bodies” (Gaertner, 2015, para. 14).

Mark Dery (1993), who created the term Afro-futurisms, says:

Speculative fiction that treats African-American themes and addresses African-American concerns in the context of twentieth century technoculture—and, more generally, African-American signification that appropriates images of technology and a prosthetically enhanced future—might, for want of a better term, be called ‘Afrofuturism.’ The notion of Afrofuturism gives rise to a troubling antinomy: Can a community whose past has been deliberately rubbed out, and whose energies have subsequently been consumed by the search for legible traces of its history, imagine possible futures? (p. 736)

Samual R. Delany, in an interview with Mark Dery, explains that Black people have been “impoverished in terms of future images” because during slavery his ancestors were systemically denied the ability to know and share their history,” (Delany in Dery, 1993, p. 742). Black history is a “violently contested area,” which limits the ability to have future images (p. 743). GregTate, also interviewed by Dery, says:

One of the things that characterizes science fiction is the somewhat didactic way in which instruction is given about the potential for catastrophe in a society when its members don’t pay attention to the paths that either a new technology or an aberrant life form may take. In that sense, SF parallels traditional mythology, which is full of cautionary tales. (Tate, cited in Dery, 1993, p. 764)

Dery also imagines science fiction as “philosophical inquiry and technological speculation” which leads towards self-knowledge (p. 766). He says self-knowledge is particularly valuable for Black readers and writers because for Black people self-knowledge “is not something that’s given to you, institutionally; it’s an arduous journey that must be undertaken by the individual” (Dery, 1993, p. 766).

If you would like to listen to an Afro-futurism short story along with a commentary on the significance of the genre I recommend the LeVar Burton Reads podcast episode on Octavia Butler (Burton, 2018). LeVar Burton was the star of a long-standing American children's education television series called Reading Rainbow as well as an actor on the Star Trek science fiction television series. Olivia Butler is one of the founding authors in the genre of what is now known as Afro-futurisms. Her work has inspired many, including the authors of a collection of short stories called Octavia's brood: Science fiction stories from social justice movements (brown & Imarisha, 2015). In the introduction, editor Walidah Imarisha (2015) says “All organizing is science fiction. Organizers and activists dedicate their lives to creating an envisioning another world, or many other worlds – so what better venue for organizers to explore their work than science fiction stories?” (p. 3). So, science fiction can be a method of orienting our lives and energy towards a better future. In a Simon Fraser University Below the Radar podcast where Imarisha discusses their book, she notes that utopia/dystopia may, at times, be contingent on perspective. As an example, she says that Portland may be seen by many as a progressive utopia. However, because legacies of racial exclusion endure in the region, it is a white progressive utopia, which means that for non-white people, it may be experienced as a dystopia (Johal, 2022).

Before I delve into Indigenous futurisms, I’d like to pause and set two parameters around the juxtaposition of Afro-futurisms and Indigenous futurisms. The first parameter is that while Indigenous futurisms draws inspiration from Afro-futurisms, the two are not interchangeable. Rifkin (2019) explains that Black and Indigenous struggles “emerge out of a ‘shared history’ of white supremacist violence, exploitation, and expropriation” (p. 1); however, their political struggles are “oriented in different ways,” which “does not mean understanding them as utterly dissimilar or as having no points of intersection of mutual imbrication” (p. 5). Rifkin discourages attempts to try to “force them into alignment” (p. 6) and instead says that acknowledging their differences “opens up the potential for acknowledging a plurality of legitimate, non-identical truth claims, none of which should be taken as the singular and foundational way that the real is structured” (p. 8). When writing about Indigenous Futurisms and Afrofuturisms, it’s important to respect their respective uniqueness rather than seeking homogeneity. It might appear expedient to collapse the two into one category for ease of reference; however, doing so erases rather than celebrates difference.

The second parameter is expressed in Chelsea Vowel’s comment that “I refuse to exclude the potential and real Indigeneity of black people, either implicitly or through omission” (Vowel, 2022). She does not elaborate on it, but I believe this is an acknowledgement of African Indigeneity. I also perceive it as an acknowledgement that some people are both Indigenous to North America and Black.

Indigenous futurisms is a term that is used to describe creative works and to some degree it is a way of engaging in the world, but I would posit that it is not fixed genre with identifiable parameters. Rather than thinking of it as a category, I think of it as a descriptor. Items which could be included in Indigenous futurisms could include video games, art, essays, utopias, dystopias, post-apocalyptic fiction, science fiction, slipstream, alternative histories, time travel, inter-dimensional travel, horror, and so on. I first learned about Indigenous futurisms through Kimiwan Zine’s special issue on Indigenous futurisms in 2014. Kimiwan Zine featured many First Nations, Métis, and Inuit contributors and was published by a Cree collective. Along with the launch of the special issue, they also collaborated with RPM Records to release an Indigenous futurisms mixtape (Kimiwan Zine & RPM Records, 2014).  

Two novels which could be described as Indigenous futurisms were recently featured in an annual high-profile battle-of-the-books. Canada’s public broadcaster, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, holds an annual book contest. First, a longlist of books is released. Then a panel of five advocates is selected, with each panelist tasked with arguing that every Canadian should read their assigned book. The panelists participate in public debates with each other. At the end of each debate, they vote one book off of the list until only one book is left. That book is the winner. Each year there is a new theme. Métis author Cherie Dimaline’s novel The marrow thieves (2017) was on theshortlist for 2018, and the theme was “one book to open your eyes” (CBC, 2018). Anishinaabe author Waubgeshig Rice’s novel Moon of the crusted snow (2018) was on the long list for 2023, and the theme was “one book to shift your perspective” (CBC, 2023).

There are also scholarly titles which could be described as Indigenous futurisms. Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-Blackness (2020) is an anthology of interviews, essays, and visual art from Black and Indigenous thinkers. It was edited by Tiffany Lethabo King, Jenell Navarro (Cherokee), and Andrea Smith. In the introduction, the editors assert that Indigenous and Black people have a shared goal of decolonization, yet do not have consensus on how to achieve it. For example, they note that Black calls for land as reparations affirm the state’s right to distribute land (p. 7). However, Indigenous people assert their own sovereignty and question the existence of the United States, let alone the United States’ right to redistribute land (p. 7). The editors state that the collection was not intended to be prescriptive, but rather is an opportunity to ask questions about the relationship between Black and Indigenous peoples/studies (p. 21). “Indigenous futurisms” is an essay in the book by Cree-Métis-Saulteaux writer, scholar, and editor Lindsay Nixon. Nixon (2020) says “The future imaginary becomes a realm within which Indigenous artists express disconnection from kinship and land, a medicinal space to imagine new futures for Indigenous life” (p. 339). I note that they state that it is Indigenous people who express themselves through/in Indigenous futurisms, as opposed to including within the definition non-Indigenous representations of Indigenous people. In saying that it is a “medicinal space,” Nixon is implying that futurisms are not just a product. They are a way of interacting with the world. Those creating works within the realm of Indigenous futurisms create medicinal space for themselves and for those who read/view the works.

Rehearsals for living (2022) is a series of letters between Robyn Maynard and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson. They grapple with the problems of today and discuss Black and Indigenous futures from their respective standpoints as a Black scholar (Robyn Maynard) and an Indigenous scholar (Leanne Simpson). In the first letter, Maynard writes to Simpson, “I am writing to you a letter at the end of (this) world” (p. 14). In the last letter, Simpson writes to Maynard, “We are remaking the whole world” (p. 185). Her signoff says “hope is a practice. So is our continuous rebirth” (p. 186). Neither author uses the terms “Indigenous futurisms” nor “Afrofuturisms” and I am not sure if they would categorize their work as such, or if they would just say their work talks about the future.  

German scholar Kristina Baudemann (2019) writes, “Indigenous futurisms frequently revolve around Indigenous conceptions of time, revisit colonial history, and carve out sovereign Indigenous spaces within and across different discourses for the imagining of an Indigenous-centered future” (p. 151). Not all Indigenous futurisms are set in the future. It is possible to imagine an Indigenous-centered future through a story not set in the future. An example of a work which is set in the past, but could be categorized as Indigenous futurism, is Jeff Barnaby’s residential school revenge fantasy set in 1979, Rhymes with young ghouls (2013). In an interview, Barnaby explains that the question left to the characters at the end of the film is “how do we move forward into the future?” (DaCosta, 2014, para. 16). A futurist work set in the present, nehiyaw visual artist Joi Arcand’s 2010 photo series “Here on future Earth” contains photos of seemingly mundane buildings; however, the neon signage on the buildings is written in Cree syllabics. “Arcand wants us tothink about these photographs as documents of ‘an alternative present,’ of afuture that is within arm’s reach” (Belcourt, 2017, para. 7).

Works Cited 

Barnaby, J (Director). (2013). Rhymes for young ghouls [Film]. Les Films Séville.

Baudermann, K. (2019). Indigenous futurist film: Speculation and resistance in Jeff Barnaby's Rhymes for Young Ghouls and File Under Miscellaneous. In A.J. Ransom and D. Grace (eds) Canadian Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror (pp. 151-165). London, United Kingdom: Palgrave Macmillan.

Belcourt, B. (2017, August 29). The optics of the language: How Joi T. Arcand looks with words. Canadian Art. https://canadianart.ca/features/optics-language-joi-t-arcand-looks-words/

brown, a.m. & Imarisha, W. (2015). Introduction. In a.m. brown & W. Imarisha (Eds.), Octavia’s brood: Science fiction stories from social justice movements (pp. 3-5). Oakland, California: AK Press.

Burton, L. (Host). (2018, April 3). “Childfinder” by Octavia Butler [Audio podcast episode]. Levar Burton Reads. Sticher. https://www.levarburtonpodcast.com/

DaCosta, J. (2014, February 1). Interview with filmmaker Jeff Barnaby on Rhymes for Young Ghouls. Muskrat Magazine. https://muskratmagazine.com/interview-with-filmmaker-jeff-barnaby-on-rhymes-for-young-ghouls/

Dery, M. (1993). Black to the future: Interviews with Samuel R. Delany, Greg Tate, and Tricia Rose. Flame Wars: The Discourse of Cyberculture 92 (4). Pp. 735-778.

Dimaline, C. (2017). The marrow thieves. Toronto, Ontario: Dancing Cat Books.

Gaertner, D. (2015). What's a story like you doing in a place like this? Cyberspace and Indigenous Futurism [Blog post]. Retrieved from https://novelalliances.com/2015/03/23/whats-a-story-like-you-doing-in-a-place-like-this-cyberspace-and-indigenous-futurism-in-neal-stephensons-snow-crash/#_ftn1

Johal, A. (Host). (2022, September 13). Science fiction & social justice — with Walidah Imarisha (Episode 185) [Audio podcast episode]. In Simon Fraser University’s Below the Radar. SFU Vancity Office of Community Engagement. https://www.sfu.ca/vancity-office-community-engagement/below-the-radar-podcast/episodes/185-walidah-imarisha.html

kimiwan collective. (2014, tākwākin). Indigenous futurisms [Special edition]. kimiwan zine (8).

kimiwan zine collective. (2015). Indigenous futurisms mixtape [Audio]. RPMfm. https://soundcloud.com/rpmfm/indigenous-futurisms-mixtape

Lethabo King, T., Navarro, J., & Smith, A. (2020). Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-blackness. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press.

Meet the Canada Reads 2018 contenders (2018, January 30). Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.cbc.ca/books/canadareads/meet-the-canada-reads-2018-contenders-1.4505780

Nixon, L. (2020). Visual cultures of Indigenous futurism. In T. Lethabo King, J. Navarro, A. Smith (Eds.), Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-Blackness (pp. 332-342). Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press.

Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice: A dystopian novel set in a small northern Anishinaabe community (2023, January 12). Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.cbc.ca/books/moon-of-the-crusted-snow-by-waubgeshig-rice-1.4761526

Rice, W. (2018). Moon of the crusted snow. Toronto, Ontario: ECW Press.

Rifkin, M. (2019). Fictions of land and flesh: Blackness, Indigeneity, speculation. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press. 

Simpson, L.B. & Manyard, R. (2023). Rehearsals for living. Toronto, Ontario: Penguin Random House Canada. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/675719/rehearsals-for-living-by-robyn-maynard-and-leanne-betasamosake-simpson/9781039000674

Vowel, C. (2022). Buffalo is the new buffalo. Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press. 

***

This is an excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.54-58

This is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/