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Joseph
Land was born in the Whitedog First Nation Reserve in Ontario, and
he speaks his native language, Ojibway. For the past 35 years, Joe,
an Elder has been living on the Sagkeeng First Nation Reserve. He
is actively employed at the age of 64 at the Sagkeeng Arena, where
he keeps daily contact with his people.
Land
is associated with "The Sagkeeng Carvers". Joe expresses his identity,
culture, spirituality, and language both in Ojibway and through his
art. While speaking with Joe, his ideas have a positive out look on
native self-government issues and is quite aware of the native languages
that have changed throughout the past generations. As a professional
artist Joe has a keen insight with the youth that share a unique blend
of contemporary influences that he calls a positive turn around. Joe
was also a rock and roll guitar player in the 1960's.
"At
the age of seven I drew for fellow class mates for their entertainment
or at times kept them out of trouble during recess. I enjoyed doing
this, for it held great respect form them and I as well. I progressed
in doing murals at schools (residential), private homes, businesses,
and at the University of Manitoba. Naturally this was challenging,
in fact everything you do in life is a challenge. In the four years
I spent at the Fine Arts School of Art located at the University of
Manitoba, I was learning basic designs, perspective, optical illusions,
history in Art and it's origin.
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A
work in progress, depicting the spirits within the circle that
can give the children guidance. Represented is the eagle, buffalo,
and the bear; all prepared to share their teachings to the children
present. It is important for our children to understand the teachings
of our people in order to fulfill a rich and rewarding life. |
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Another
work in progress, this one also based upon the circle and the teachings
of the spirits. For our people to grow strong again, the answer
lies within the forest, and how we reconnect ourselves to the land.
As we progress in our education, we discover the contribution we
can make to our people. |
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A
portrait of an elder. I like to do portraits of the members of our
community, it gives me a sense of belonging and pride. |
The
Legend of White Horse Long
Long ago in a village near Grassy Narrows, two hunters went out hunting
and their journey took them to Delaney Lake. As they paddled on their
canoe, one of the hunters saw something strange in the distance, it was
a white flash and they thought it was a seagull on the lake. As they came
closer towards the white flash it wasn't a seagull, but a white horse
with wings. The two hunters were scared by what they had seen and immediately
went back to their village to tell what they had encountered. Later that
night the village held a council meeting resulting in a decision being
made to forbid people from going to Delaney Lake because the meaning of
white horse was uncertain. When this decision was made there were two
reckless hunters who did not believe the story, and they decided if it
were true. When everyone was sleeping they left for Delaney Lake and they
paddled and paddled. Arriving around midday, they spent the afternoon
searching for this mysterious horse, but they couldn't see anything. As
the afternoon was coming to an end the hunters got frustrated and were
about to go back home, against the setting sun they saw the white horse.
For a moment they just gazed at the white horse in amazement, one of the
hunters became scared and pulled out his rifle and squeezed as many rounds
as he could. In the cross hairs from his rifle, he saw an explosion of
blood as one shot rang true as the white horse submerged into the lake.
Knowing they had wounded the white horse, the hunters paddled closer so
they could finish the hunt and take back their trophy to the village.
As they made there way across the lake, the sky became cloudy, thunder
could be heard in the distance as the wind created waves on the lake.
The hunters knew they were in danger and tried making their way back to
land against the rushing lake, the white horse reemerged underneath the
canoe smashing it into pieces. The last sight the hunters saw as they
sank to the bottom of the lake was the silhouette of the white horse swimming
back to the shore. The next day a search party was combing the beach for
the two hunters and all they could find were pieces of their smashed canoe.
Leading the search party was one of the hunters who had encountered the
white horse. He stared off into the distance and offered tobacco as he
shook his head in amazement and journeyed back to the village.

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