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yegarts · 2 years

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Métis Artist Frances Whitford Creates T-shirt for Orange Shirt Day

Unity, truth, and a positive path forward

Walk into a local retail store in September, and you may find Orange Shirt Day merchandise. Walk into TIX on the Square, and you’ll find wearable art, designed and printed by Indigenous artists like Frances Whitford of Beadwork & Bannock. Not only did Whitford and her son, Arden Herman, create an orange shirt for others to wear in support of the movement, she created it as part of her own family’s truth and reconciliation.

“Normally, T-shirts are right out of my element,” explains Whitford, who comes from a long line of trappers. “Hide and fur are the mediums I usually like to work with, but I just felt called to tell this story—and to include my children. Part of our coming to knowledge of our past with residential schools is to really shed light on understanding that we have our own story to tell. Knowing that the world is seeing the truth now, we needed to stand in our own truth. So I just really wanted them to understand their history, as much as I can teach it, and as much as I can learn it myself to pass it on to them so they can understand why we are the way we are these days and which direction we need to move in. I needed a positive outlet to empower them to know that healing is possible, and necessary, and important for them to think about. That’s the real legacy I’d like to leave—that we need to move forward in a positive light, and that sometimes extracting a positive from a negative situation is the best way to grow and heal. That’s what I hope my T-shirts will do."

As Whitford explains, her story and T-shirt design are both centered around the Western Tiger Lily, a flower native to her childhood home and symbolic of her family’s path forward.

“I chose the Western Tiger Lily because it is an endangered species, much like Indigenous people are now. I was raised by my grandparents in Anzac, Alberta, where we’d go to a place called Halfway Camp to get our water, when you could still drink water. And that’s where the tiger lilies were. On every trip, I’d always try to pick them, and my grandfather would constantly tell me, “They’re never going to grow in a vase, my girl. You have to leave them where they are.” And even though I always asked why and he never fully explained, I now understand. When this flower is taken out of its natural environment, it dies. And that story just reminded me of when Indigenous children were taken from their environment and expected to thrive and grow somewhere that wasn’t nurturing them in the right way. They assumed that putting them in a vase, and giving them water, and nurturing them a certain way was going to be sufficient. But Indigenous People are a distinct people—the way we are raised, our thinking patterns, and our genealogy are different. So we didn‘t thrive and we didn’t grow. Instead, it had catastrophic effects to the point that we are trying to find our roots again because we were extracted from them."

When it came to designing her orange shirt, Whitford says that all of those story elements just came together. “My son’s father is First Nations and I’m Métis, so the infinity symbol represents me, the medicine wheel represents him, and the feathers represent the children, as does the lily. By encompassing everything in a circle, it’s all connected and just makes perfect sense to me."

The shirts designed by Whitford and Arden are available now at TIX on the Square, where you’ll also find work from other Indigenous artists, many of whom belong to the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M Collective). TIX expects to bring in more T-shirts designed by other artists in the coming weeks and months, the proceeds of which will go directly to the artists, who will in turn donate a portion to a cause of their choosing.

That support and sense of community is something Whitford says cannot be underestimated—that when you buy Indigenous products from Indigenous artists, the effect is far more reaching than you might imagine:

“It truly is a preservation of culture and of legacy. Our Indigenous art tells the story of our history, of our connectedness to other cultures and other places, and reminds us of the unity that we need to continue to share. I think it’s good to walk in your individual light and be proud of who you are and where you come from, but it’s also good to be proud of other cultures too, to raise them up and know that you stand in unity with them. So that’s what I’d like people to know—that when they purchase Indigenous art, they’re not only supporting an artist, they’re actually preserving a culture. And that’s an amazing thing.”

#yegarts #tixonthesquare #indigenous art #edmontonarts #orange shirt day

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bodidarma · 3 months

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Sophie Kuijken (Belgian, 1965), I.A.M., 2015.

#painting #artwork

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soclaimon · 2 years

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becomingakamala01 · 2 years

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Climb Over Your Life Sorrows With Kamala Maddali's Teaching

Motivation and proper guidance are vital in paving an individual's path to progress and growth. The same is the positive side of inspiration, which helps uplift a living standard for an individual.

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A Brief About Dr. kamala Maddali

As a part of the solution, Dr. Kamala Maddali is a professional expert in vast fields, like advocacy, cancer research, precision medicine, A.I., and digital technology, and all the above inspiring young talents to achieve their desired goals in life.

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#Dr. Kamala Maddali #Lotus leadership

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jcinfl · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: I.A.M. GIA TRIANGLE BIKINI Top M.

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possible-streetwear · 7 years

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M.I.A

#m.i.a #m.i.a.#mathangi arulpragasam #m.i.a. maya #mia mathangi #mia #mia maya #maya #arulpragasam #mathangi #matangi #iam #i.a.m

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himbopatrol · 8 months

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Cherry Bomb // a Steve Harrington Love Story

Danny Henderson, looks like a punk, can be found at any underage disco. Snorts when she laughs, mom doesn't know she sneaks out, loves her little brother and will defend him with her life, when the song tarzan boy comes out in April of 85' it will become her favorite song, but don't tell anyone. "You look like you just rolled out of bed" "I did" Has a bad habit of smoking that she tries to keep secret from Dustin, but ultimately fails. Is a "cool girl" but also gets her face smashed into a locker, don't worry the smasher will have their head down a flushing toilet by next period. Get's straight A's, and is a star softball player. Oh, and is hopelessly, desperately, disgustingly, head over heels in love with Steve Harrington.

Moments in time and space usually between Danielle "Danny" Henderson and Steve Harrington

originally posted here

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!OC

Warnings: smut (eventual), sexual tension, lots of swearing, some stereotypical rude 80s teens, typical stranger things blood/gore, sloooooow buuurrrrnnn, i don't proofread

Minors Do Not Interact!

A slow work in progress, thank you for your support and patience. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven Below // word count 3,230

Saturday, May 18th, 1985. Evening of the Hawkins High Class of ‘85 Prom

“Prom is stupid anyway Nance,” Danny complained, tossing one of Nancy’s teddy bears in the air. Nancy sat at her desk, completing summer job applications.

“I think it’s sweet,” Nancy spoke softly, clearly concentrating on her writing.

“It’s just a toxic social construct for teens to dress in ugly dresses, cry over dumb boys, and feel like their high school lives ever mattered,” Danny continued.

“I think you’re projecting,” Nancy could hear the smile in Nancy’s voice.

“I obviously don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny rolled her eyes.

“Mhm,” Nancy hummed.

Danny held the teddy bear, her head turning to wear Nancy sat, “What?”

“Nothing,” Nancy smiled down at her paper.

“Don’t “nothing” me, what?” Danny was growing impatient.

“What about Steve?”

“Steve Harrington?” Danny asked, as if she didn’t spend every minute she could with him.

“Yes Steve Harrington ,” Nancy retorted.

“What about him?” Danny sneered.

“Why don’t you go with him, pretty sure he doesn’t have a date yet,” Nancy shrugged.

Danny sat up quickly, tossing the teddy bear aside. “I’m not going to prom with Steve Harrington, that is such a heinous idea,” Danny gagged.

“You like him,” Nancy smiled gently as she looked briefly over her shoulder at Danny.

“No I don’t! No way Nance! That’s disgusting, he’s just a friend,” Danny exclaimed.

“Does he know that?” Nancy asked, returning to her job applications.

“Of course he does! There is nothing between us, nada, not a spark, nothing.”

“Okay,” Nancy held the note. “Remind me, has he had any girlfriends since we broke up, maybe even a one night stand?”

“No,” Danny answered. “I mean not that I know of. What’s your point?” Danny asked curiously, walking towards Nancy, hand resting on the back of her chair.

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Nancy asked, turning to face Danny.

“No, it isn’t obvious,” Danny shook her head.

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Steve likes you, he probably didn’t ask you to prom because he didn’t want you to say no.”

“He does not like me, trust me,” Danny held her hands up in defense. “Besides you only broke up last semester, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh who cares?” Nancy waved her hand. “And yes he does, it’s so obvious, he just makes you nervous, that’s probably why he didn’t jump your bones the second we broke up.”

“Nance,” Danny said softly, looking down at her socks.

“It’s fine Danny,” Nancy placed a hand on top of hers. “I really don’t care, you’re cute together anyway,” Nancy smiled.

“I-I…I do like him,” Danny confessed, unable to look at Nancy.

“It’s alright,” Nancy reassured.

“No Nance, ‘cause I’ve liked him for a long time, since like middle school,” Danny spoke in a whisper.

“Why didn't you ever say anything?”

“Because he was never nice to us then, that would have been lame of me, to do that to us,” Danny replied. This time Nancy averted her eyes. “Not that it was lame when you started dating him! Shit, sorry, I take that back.”

“No it’s okay, you’re right, I guess he just charmed me,” Nancy giggled. “I wish you had told me sooner, I wouldn’t have gotten in the way.”

“You were never in the way,” Danny replied desperately.

“Steve is an idiot for not asking you to prom, though I still think you should go,” Nancy smiled.

“You’re not going,” Danny protested.

“No, I’ll go next year, Jonathan wanted to have our own date night tonight,” Nancy replied.

“Steve’s like my only friend that will be there, it’ll be such a drag,” Danny whined. “I really don’t think he likes me, I mean I wish he did…even if he does, it’s just a crush, there’s just no way he’d want to actually be with me.”

“I suppose one of these days he’ll just have to prove you wrong,” Nancy reassured.

“Thanks Nance,” Danny smiled at her friend. “You’re sweet, I’m gonna get out of your hair, let you get on with that date,” Danny winked.

“Bye Danny,” Nancy hugged her tight.

Danny’s palm swept a tear away that threatened to fall down her hot cheeks. She took deep breaths as she managed to drive back to her house. Her head was pounding with thoughts, her stomach turning. Choking back sobs she thought of Steve. He thought how better he would make her feel, while at the same time, torturing her with his ever so loving presence. She thought of Eddie telling her how Steve had obviously liked her since freshman year. She thought about Nancy. Nancy thinking she should still go to the prom. Danny hadn’t been to the prom last year, she thought she could lie to herself about not wanting to go. But she did. She wanted to wear a dress, put on uncomfortable heels and chunky jewelry, while Steve held her tight as they danced to Cyndi Lauper and The Police. She would hope that they would play I Melt With You or Total Eclipse of the Heart. She would hope that Steve would kiss her, hold her breath until he did. Taking a deep breath, Danny pulled into her driveway. Her mom was away for the weekend and Dustin was having a sleepover. Great, alone with my thoughts, just what I wanted, Danny sighed, her shoulders falling as she walked to her front door.

“Danny!” A voice shouted. Danny’s ears perked up, her eyes widening slightly, her hand gripping the door knob. Danny’s head tilted opposite of the clear voice. Go away, Danny silently pleaded. “Danny!” His voice came again, crystal clear.

Steve came running up Danny’s driveway, out of breath, stopping to rest his hands on his knees. Danny finally turned. Steve was in a suit, a simple black suit, a powder blue dress shirt underneath, his Nikes, with no tie. His hair looked like it had been done, but ruined from the running. “What are you doing here Steve?” Danny asked, she didn’t mean to sound so irritated. “Did you run here?” Her voice softened.

“My car broke down,” Steve panted.

“So did you need a ride to your car?” Danny questioned, placing a hand on her hip.

Steve stood, his eyebrows furrowed, “Need a ri–what? No. Give me your keys,” Steve held out his hand.

“Why?”

“So I can take you to prom,” Steve answered like this was pre-arranged and agreed upon.

“W-what?” Danny stepped back.

“C’mon, I wanna dance with you, I’ve already got our tickets,” Steve continued.

“I-I, I can’t wear this,” Danny whined, glancing down at her jeans and t-shirt.

Steve stepped closer, “I don’t mind, go change if you wan–are you crying?” Steve tilted his head slightly.

“What? No–” Danny stepped back again, tripping on the step before Steve caught her.

“Careful. Are you okay?” He questioned again.

“I’m fine Steve,” Danny knitted her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” Steve pressed, stepping dangerously close to Danny, pushing her towards the door. Her chest pressed against his torso.

“Steve, I am fine, drop it,” Danny warned through gritted teeth. Steve looked down at her, concern flooding his puppy dog eyes. His eyes flickered, his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

“Tell me later okay? Please?” Steve asked.

“Fine,” Danny sighed. “I have to change,” Danny whispered.

“Really?” Steve cracked a smile, eager to see what she’d change into. Danny’s hand fumbled around until she found the door knob again and flung it open behind her, making her and Steve practically fall in.

Danny wished her mom was home, she would have been so excited. She’d be able to do her hair and makeup, give her hugs and kisses of pure joy. Now she wished she had listened to Nancy, a friend, to help her get ready. Danny dug deep into her closet, knowing it was there somewhere. Danny leaned forward, ducking her head to see the skirt part hanging. She grabbed the black dress and yanked it out of the closet causing a few other articles of clothing to go flying. Danny held the dress up in triumph and admiration.

Danny and Nancy had gone Christmas shopping with each other and of course Nancy convinced Danny to buy the dress.

I’m never gonna wear it, Nance.

Yeah, but when you do you’re gonna be a total knockout.

Should I come with a warning then?

You already come with a warning. C’mon Danny, get yourself something nice.

It is pretty.

The dress was black velvet, strapless with a hard straight neckline, the waist scrunched billowed just a tad, to accentuate the waist. The fabric fell just above her knees. Danny laid the dress out on her unmade bed, padding it down. Rushing into her bathroom, Danny plugged in her hair dryer and got to work on some purple eyeshadow and her darkest eyeliner.

With her hair fluffed and makeup down, she squeezed into some old tights and pulled the dress up. The fabric clung to her body like it’s life depended on it, pushing her tits up, Danny hooked some chunky silver earrings on and tugged on some black heels with a matching silver piece on each tip. Next were some bracelets and rings along with one final shake of the hair. Danny trotted out of her room, smoothing down her dress.

“Okay,” she said simply, announcing herself.

Steve had been patiently waiting on the couch, attempting to fix his own hair. He quickly stood when he heard Danny, turning on his heel to face her. Steve felt his heart skip a beat, his breath hitching. He had never seen Danny so dressed up, his eyes widened even more after looking her up and down. Clocking the few inches gained from her heels, the small rip in her stockings, her boobies pushed up and on display, her exposed neck and collarbones, her gorgeous red lips, her precise makeup, and blown out hair.

“Shit,” Steve coughed.

“What?” Danny asked, concern falling on her face, pressing her lips.

“You look gorgeous,” Steve breathed out, chest falling from holding his breath.

“Really?” Danny blushed.

“Totally Danny, you are gorgeous,” Steve answered. “You know that,” Steve sighed into a small, desperate smile.

Danny hopped over next to him, tossing her keys to him. “Well you don’t look too bad yourself, stud,” her shoulder nudged him.

“C’mon,” Steve snaked his arm around her waist, his hand resting dangerously low as he walked her out the door.

The two seniors arrived at the door to the gymnasium, the sun having finally set, the stars beginning to twinkle in the night sky. Steve handed the girl at the foldable table the tickets that he had purchased at some point with a charming smile. He kept his arm around her waist, tight and secure. As they entered the overly decorated gymnasium they were greeted with some stairs from far too many people.

Quite a few of Steve’s ex flings were gawking at the pair. Tommy H. and Carol were staring in their direction as well, Tommy visibly annoyed, with Carol wide eyed next to him. From behind them was Billy Hargrove, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but there. Both Steve and Danny came to a silent realization they had no friends here. No Nancy, no Eddie, no Jonathan. A depressing realization that they only had each other here, a nice thought, but a hollowing one as well. A thought that came with: they were totally lame.

“Punch?” Steve finally asked, after taking in the ambiance.

“Yeah, sure,” Danny spoke softly, softer than her usual rasp.

“Kay, be right back,” Steve reluctantly let his hand slide away.

Tammy Thompson soon replaced Steve’s space. “Hi,” she grinned.

Danny shifted her feet, the heels clicking on the waxed wood floors, “Hi Tammy.” Danny avoided her eyes, assuming the worst.

“Um, I wanted to say sorry,” Tammy said. Danny whipped her head towards her.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for being such a mess at the party, and ya’ know, taking Steve away from you, that wasn’t very nice of me,” Tammy hung her head, fiddling with her fingers.

“Oh,” Danny was taken back by the statement. “Oh that’s okay Tammy, you don’t need to be sorry about that,” Danny placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Glad to see you’re finally going out,” Tammy smiled.

“Oh we’re not going out.”

Tammy raised an eyebrow at her, “But you’re here together.”

“Yeah, as friends,” Danny answered.

“Right,” Tammy gave her an awkward nod. “Okay, well have fun Danny.”

“You too,” Danny smiled back, Tammy left her standing alone.

Danny had only ever gone to the occasional Homecoming dance with friends, never a date. Danny wasn’t used to any of this, and graduation was literally around the corner. She stared around at the hoards of people. Some of them dancing, some hidden in the corner, huddled in groups, gossiping, laughing. So much makeup, sparkly clothes, and hairspray. Danny couldn’t hide a small smile. This was fun. Danny enjoyed watching all of her classmates having fun, enjoying their last moments of high school together. Despite Danny standing alone, despite always feeling alone while standing around her peers, she didn’t feel here. Sure, she was physically standing alone and was a typical outcast. But at that moment, she didn’t feel alone. She peered over to where the punchbowl had been set up. Steve stood there talking with some girls, three of them, juniors, clearly swooning over him. Steve held two small cups in one hand, his other in his pocket. He was smiling at them, and they smiled back, nodding along with what he was saying. Steve motioned his head towards Danny with a shy and blushing smile. The three girls all giggled and glanced over at Danny, giving her sweet smiles. Danny looked away quickly as Steve turned around.

“Here you go,” Steve slid up to Danny, holding out the plastic cup filled with red liquid.

“Thanks,” Danny nodded with a blush. She took a sip and grimaced.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Is it bad?” Steve sniffed his own and winced.

“Someone spiked the punch with the nastiest vodka I have ever tasted,” Danny frowned, she took another sniff, “and mouthwash? What the actual fuck?”

Steve sniffed again and took a gulp, his eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head, his tongue sticking out, making Danny laugh, “I don’t know why I even tasted it, that’s disgusting,” Steve coughed. He grabbed her cup and tossed both into a nearby trash can. “Sorry,” Steve wiped his hands on his pants.

“No need to be sorry,” Danny smiled, “unless you were the one to spike it,” Danny laughed.

“My taste isn’t that bad,” Steve smiled. “So are you gonna tell me what happened?” Danny gave Steve a quizzical look. “From earlier, when I came to your house,” Steve explained.

“Oh um, it’s nothing Steve,” Danny shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she smiled.

“Danny you were crying, of course I’m going to worry about it, c’mon,” Steve pushed.

“I guess I’m just feeling sentimental is all. I mean what the hell are we going to do? We’re graduating, it just feels so unreal, ya’ know?” Danny had been thinking about that, but she knew that's not why she was crying.

“I know, isn't that wild? I can’t believe it, I remember the first day of kindergarten like it was yesterday and now, I’m out. We’re out,” Steve smiled at Danny.

“I’m pissed that Eddie didn’t get his shit together enough to graduate,” Danny grumbled.

Steve looked down at Danny. “Sorry Eddie isn’t here,” Steve shoved his hands into his pocket.

“What?” Danny tilted her head towards Steve.

“He’s your friend, it’s a bummer to not have your friend here. You’re like my only friend my age, as sad as that sounds,” Steve chuckled.

“Oh well, that’s okay Steve, Eddie would be a bummer here anyway. Besides, I’m here with you, and that’s all I could ask for,” Danny smiled.

“Really?” Steve blushed, head perking up.

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to prom sooner. I really wanted to, I just didn’t know how,” Steve spoke softly, just for Danny to hear. He took a long pause, “That’s what I really wanted to ask you, when I came by your practice the other day. No-not if you needed a ride, but if you wanted to go to prom, like as my date,” Steve was turning beet red.

Danny could feel her ears burning, “We’re here now,” Danny whispered, staring at her feet.

Steve stared at her, she could feel his eyes burning into her. “I’m so sorry Danny,” Steve pinched his nose, Danny could see tears swelling.

“What? What for?” Danny questioned.

“I’m sorry that I was so mean to you for so many years, you’re like the best person in the world. And I-I was so mean, I don’t know why you even hang out with me,” Steve let out a heavy sigh, a small tear dripping down his red cheek. “I want to be good for you, I want to make it up, you didn’t deserve it,” Steve whispered.

“Steve, there's nothing to make up for,” Danny placed a hand on his arm, his breath hitched at the touch. “I-I’ve never held any of it against you, I knew that wasn’t you.”

“But it was,” Steve let out a choked, brief sob. “It was me. I was an asshole, and I don’t know what you see in me,” Steve’s voice cracked. “Because, because I know what I see in you Danny.”

“I see you Steve, I see you. You are the most giving and kind person. You have the biggest heart, bigger than mine, or anyones. And I saw it, before now, before middle school. You were always nice to me when we were little. In first grade you held my hand when I fell and scraped my knee, you told me to hold on, to take your hand, that our teacher would be there soon and you were going to make sure I was okay. In third grade you always held the door open for me and talked to me when no one else would. In fifth grade you made sure Stan Cooper and Alex Wilson didn’t bother me after the one time they did. You even slipped up on occasion in middle school, you took the fault when I was skipping class. You’ve always been good Steve Harrington, you were just gone for a little while, that’s all,” the tears threatened to fall, but Danny kept them in the best she could. Steve stared at her in awe. Danny stared back. “Now, do you wanna go dance or not Harrington,” Danny smiled, sniffling.

“Yes, I do, I want to dance,” Steve straightened himself up.

“Well come on then,” Danny held out her hand, which Steve gladly took.

The night was spent in each other's arms, dancing to cheesy love ballads and new wave hits. Steve and Danny might as well have been the only two people in the Hawkins High School gymnasium. With their shoes flung off somewhere unknown to them, they jumped, danced, and laughed. Singing loudly to the lyrics of songs they loved and barely knew. Forgetting everything in the outside world. Just them, alone and happy.

#i.a.m #stanger things #steve harrington #joe kerry #henderson!oc #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #steve harrington x henderson!oc

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koredzas · 6 years

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Master I. A. M. of Zwolle - Allegory of the Transience of Life. 1480 - 1490

#art #renaissance #master i.a.m. of zwolle #the allegory #allegory of the transience of life #allegory of transitoriness #engraving #moses #skull #a skull

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philoursmars · 3 months

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L'année du Dragon arrive !

Une longue série de dragons arrive... Dragons et tueurs de dragons (dracoctones). Pour l'occasion, tout vient de l'expo "Animaux fantastiques" au Louvre-Lens.

plaque émaillée d'autel, guerrier contre un dragon - Vallée de la Meuse, 1150

tympan, Saint Michel terrassant le Dragon - Notre-Dame de Nevers, 1150

Michel Colombe - "Saint Georges terrassant le Dragon" - château de Gaillon, Amboise, 1508

crosse d'évêque, Saint-Michel - Limoges, 1200

Johann Heinrich Füssli - "Thor combattant le serpent Jörmungand"

Paolo Uccello - "Saint Georges combattant le Dragon" - Florence, 1465

Maître I.A.M. de Zwolle - "Saint Georges combattant le Dragon" - 1480

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psikonauti · 2 years

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Sophie Kuijken (Belgian, b. 1965)

I.A.M., 2015

Oil and acrylic on panel

#Sophie Kuijken #upl #va #art #painting

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yegarts · 1 year

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“I Am YEG Arts” Series: Frances Whitford

It’s been said that grandparents are the voices of the past and the door to the future. For Frances Whitford, there are few truer sentiments. It’s why she describes her business, Beadwork & Bannock, as a creation of love and legacy to her grandparents and Métis culture. Lucky for us, that gratitude and knowledge are both gifts she’s eager to share with everyone. From passing down traditions to her children to championing the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M), Frances looks forward to continuing to promote and support the perseverance of Indigenous art and culture in our city. Artist, advocate, granddaughter, and teacher—this week’s “I Am YEG Arts” story belongs to Frances Whitford.

Tell us about your connection to Edmonton and why you’ve made it your home.

I have a lot of family here. I’m from northeastern Alberta, just outside of Fort McMurray, so Edmonton was the closest major city and our go-to for everything—so we’ve always been connected to it. Even as a kid, we’d go to Lac Ste. Anne every summer, and then to K-Days because my grandmother had sisters and family here. From there we’d go around to Lac La Biche to the powwow before heading back home. So ever since I was a small child, I’ve spent a few weeks of every single summer here.

As an adult, what really drew me to Edmonton were the opportunities for my three children to grow. Being in a small community is great—the support you have is good, everyone knows your name, and your history, and all of those types of things—but sometimes that can put a real damper on personal growth when it comes to just wanting to spread your wings and be yourself. So all the genres of opportunities presented to them here were very alluring to all of us.

I also found the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M) here, and that was amazing. I always say that when I found them, I found my tribe. As Lorrie Lawrence always says, it’s like a melting pot of Indigenous artists.

Tell us a bit about Beadwork & Bannock and how it came to be.

I grew up raised largely by my grandparents. They were very old-school, very Métis lifestyle, so I spent a lot of my youth on our family trapline, which my brother still runs with my cousin Jason. Despite being so immersed in my culture throughout my life, I didn’t realize then how blessed I was—not until 2011 when my grandmother passed away. She had developed Alzheimer’s around 2006, so it really felt like we lost her a lot sooner, but during that time was when I really began to realize that, wow, once she goes, all of this is gone.

My grandmother was an artisan herself and used what she earned to help supplement the family income. I loved watching her work, and a lot of time I’d get to play around sorting beads… but watching her create all these amazing things and seeing every part of the process—from trap to this beautiful pair of moccasins—was pretty cool. So when she passed away, I made my decision to allow myself to dream about making a living preserving my culture and being able to share it with others and teach my kids. Beadwork & Bannock was the answer. And there’s just so much good that has come from it. It is literally a legacy of love for my culture, my grandparents, and everything they’ve instilled in me. There were quite a few years of dreaming it up in my mind and wanting to be where I am now, but just knowing that this knowledge is for me to pass on to as many people as I can reach makes me very happy.

What inspires your design choices and the stories that your beading and clothing tell?

Again, it goes right back to my grandparents and realizing how much culture they preserved in me that I didn’t realize I carried until I was older. A lot of my beadwork designs are inspired by the work of my grandmother and from learning and exploring our Métis culture. As I did my genealogy, I realized just how far-reaching my Métis ancestry is when it comes to Canada and the United States. Because we were the landless people, we travelled so often that there are bits and pieces of my grandfathers’ and great grandfathers’ and great-great grandfathers’ families from Montana all the way through Saskatchewan and Manitoba. It’s pretty amazing to see that. So often I’ll look at all this beadwork from all over these places and feel such a connection to it. And at first, I don’t understand why until I realize it’s that ancestry that draws me in.

What’s one piece of advice you wish you’d had when starting out? And what’s something you knew instinctively that’s still serving you?

The advice I wish I’d had starting out is don’t limit yourself—don’t limit yourself to what you can and cannot do. When I first started, I felt very much that I was in this box and had to stick to mitts and moccasins and the traditional things my grandmother made. But as I’m evolving as an artist, I like to bring in contemporary elements and incorporate new-age thinking with the old—like repurposing fur coats. It’s conservation in itself. And a lot of what we do as trappers is conservation work. Some people have the misconception that we’re out there hauling out these furs and mass-producing and selling them. But, no. We’re actually doing a lot of environmental monitoring. So, for example, if there’s a species that’s low, we’re not going to harvest it. We’re going to refrain. Or if we’ve noticed a species is diseased, we’re submitting that all to the government to be tested to make sure that it’s not something invasive to these species.

The something I just knew from the get-go would probably have to be the importance of transferring knowledge. That was just the biggest driver for me after losing my grandmother and realizing that a lot of her knowledge was gone. Though I only have bits and pieces of it, I’m learning and growing on it every day, remembering more as I carry on. I also realized how important it is for us through truth and reconciliation to share that knowledge back and to give it to our future generations so that they can continue to grow on it and ground themselves with it—because that’s what it did for me.

I strongly believe that the knowledge and traditional practices I was given were meant for me to transfer, not to hold. Letting everyone know there is space for all of us to share and learn these things is something I’m very happy to do.

Tell us about someone who mentored you or helped set you on your path.

That would be my brother. I can really say that my brother has always been one of my biggest supporters and champions. When my grandmother passed away, the two of us sat down and had a conversation about my kids really needing to go to the trapline with him. They were all very small then, but I knew they needed to go with him alone because at that age Mom is everything—Mom, do this. Mom, do that. The trapline is a very wonderful and magical place, but it can also be very dangerous, so I knew they needed to build their relationship with him and the respect he required for them to safely enjoy trapline living—and to learn to grow their wings and be independent. So when my son was around 6 and my other daughter was 10 or 11, they went for their first weekend on the trapline with my brother. And that all started it. That’s when we both realized that if we didn’t transfer that knowledge, it’d be gone. From there, we started to talk about all the things that Grandma would make and decided to give it a try. The rest is history!

Who’s someone inspiring you right now?

Right now, I would probably say the artists with I.A.M. They have so many stories and inspire me so much with their resilience. There’s such an incredible amount of knowledge coming off each of these artists that stems from their families and their histories. And it’s just so inspiring to me to see our art coming back and being appreciated for what it is. The dedication each and every one of them shows to their craft is incredible. We even have one artist, Agnus Jones, who I believe is 89 years old. She does a lot of the similar work that I do, and the last time I saw her at the market I told her that, in my eyes, I am just an apprentice, she is a master, and that—one day—I hope to be as good as her.

Last year, you and your son designed a T-shirt for Orange Shirt Day. What was that experience like for you?

Normally, T-shirts are right out of my element, but I just felt called to tell this story (of our family’s journey of truth and reconciliation)—and to include my children. Part of our coming to knowledge of our past with residential school really shed light on understanding that we have our own story to tell. Knowing that the world is seeing the truth now, we needed to stand in our own truth. So I just really wanted my children to understand their history, as much as I can teach it, and as much as I can learn it myself to pass it on to them so they can understand why we are the way we are these days and which direction we need to move in. I needed a positive outlet to empower them to know that healing is possible, and necessary, and important for them to think about. That’s the real legacy I’d like to leave—that we need to move forward in a positive light, and that sometimes extracting a positive from a negative situation is the best way to grow and heal. That’s what I hope my T-shirts will do.

Tell us a bit about what you’re currently working on or hoping to explore next.

What I’m working on right now is focusing more on my beadwork detail. I just want to grow a little bit more, and explore a little bit more, and venture out into making new things, like satchel-style purses.

I’ve been exploring new mediums and playing around with caribou tufting, too. And it’s like, as soon as I understand my connection to these animals and these things, all of a sudden the creative comes in and I want to work with parts of them!

The kids and I are also working on more Every Child Matters T-shirts and collaborating on some other designs.

What do you want people to understand about the importance of buying Indigenous products from Indigenous artists?

It truly is a preservation of culture and of legacy. Our Indigenous art tells the story of our history, of our connectedness to other cultures and other places, and reminds us of the unity that we need to continue to share. I think it’s good to walk in your individual light and be proud of who you are and where you come from, but it’s also good to be proud of other cultures too—to raise them up and know that you stand in unity with them. So that’s what I’d like people to know: that when they purchase Indigenous art, they’re not only supporting an artist, they’re actually preserving a culture. And that’s an amazing thing.

Describe your perfect day in Edmonton. How do you spend it?

My perfect day in Edmonton would probably be spent exploring one of the many festivals or attractions that you literally find every weekend and everywhere you turn. Spending it with my kids, of course, because I love that.

You visit Edmonton 20 years from now. What do you hope has changed? What do you hope has stayed the same?

Well, I do hope that all the festivals and everything have stayed, but what I really hope to see is more reflection of the Indigenous presence that is here in the architecture and everywhere you turn. It’s starting to look like that now, but I’d really like it to be strongly visible. For example, the history behind the river lot that was here really needs to come to the surface—and in a good way. Because even though it’s a dark history, it’s a very positive place, and I love being there.

Want more YEG Arts Stories? We’ll be sharing them here all year and on social media using the hashtag #IamYegArts. Follow along! Click here to learn more about Frances Whitford, Beadwork & Bannock, and more.

About Frances Whitford

Frances Whitford is originally from Anzac, Alberta, but now calls Edmonton home. She was raised by her grandparents and grew up surrounded by Métis culture and craft, spending much time on the family trapline. Frances learned most of her craft from her grandmother, a Métis artisan, who made various pieces for the family and to sell in an effort to supplement the family’s income. Her grandfather was a trapper who would supply the furs and hides needed for her grandmother’s craft. Today, Frances’s brother has stepped into the role of trapper and supplies a large amount of the hides and furs that allow Frances to continue to learn and hone her skills.

Frances’s pieces, such as moccasins, mukluks, gauntlet mitts, and other Métis-oriented items, are made mainly of traditional and commercial-tanned moose hides, as well as beaver, fox, lynx, rabbit, and various other types of furs. Some of her Beadwork & Bannock pieces also include her beadwork.

As Treasurer of the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M), Frances looks forward to continuing to promote, support, and participate in the advocacy and perseverance of Indigenous art and culture that she sees thriving in this city.

#yeg #edmontonarts #yegarts #IamYegArts #IndigenousArt

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