What bring me joy?

What brings me joy?

Moose, Porcupine & Scissors

Written by Jean Marshall

My name is Jean Marshall. I live in Thunder Bay, Canada. I am of mixed ancestory: Anishinaabe (otherwise called Ojibway) and British. Throughout this story, I will be using Anishnaabemowin words (my ancestral language) as this is one source of inspiration for me that connects to my creative process. I work full-time as an artist and land-based craftsperson. I will be sharing with you my story of the materials that I work with. My source of inspiration comes from the land. I live on the shores of Gitchigaming (Lake Superior) where I can hear the waves and see the storms rolling in off the big lake. I have spent my life in close proximity to the bush. I knew that I had a strong drive to work with my hands when I was a young girl. My mother taught me how to bead and I started working with leather as a young teen. In my late twenties, I actively gave space to my creativity and started to bead regularly. I bead Ojibway floral designs that are vibrant in colour and unique in their presentation. It has been through my artwork that has circled me to my cultural roots.

I would like to start by sharing a bit of cultural context in regards to my work and existence in the world. In Canada, like all colonized countries, there was a deliberate objective by the government to have Indigenous people assimilated into the dominant society. One of the reasons for this was to get Indigenous people off the land in order for the government to extract resources or inhabit the land without conflict or disruption. In order to reach this objective, the residential schools were enacted as a method of assimilation. This education system was adopted from Britain’s industrial schools. The Canadian government created laws and policies that made it illegal for parents to withhold their children from attending these schools. From young as 3 or 4, children were taken away from their families, community, and culture and forced to assimilate into the dominant culture. In the church-run schools, children were not allowed to speak their native language, they had the hair cut unceremoniously, and many experienced extreme corporal punishment, sexual abuse, and even, death. There is not one Indigenous family in Canada that has not been affected by the residential school system, this includes my family. I call this ugly period “the gap.” I refer to it as such because there’s a huge gap of cultural and linguistic teachings that were lost out of fear and shame. My mother and grandfather attended residential schools where they experienced violence of many forms. After that period of life was over, they raised families and carried on trying to forgot those traumatic experiences. My mother retained the gift of her language however, due to shame, she did not pass this language on to her children. As such, I am an adult learner who is working to speak and understand the Anishinaabemowin language. My art practice is hand-sewing functional and ceremonial items like: moccasins, mittens, hats, medallions, pipe bags, and earrings. I sew beads and quills on to leather to create vibrant and colourful designs that honour the flowers of this territory.

My relationship with the long-legged animal, the moose(mooz), started when I was a young girl. My grandfather would come into the city and visit us. He would smell delicious. He gave off this smoky scent that was calming, earthy, and exuded familiarity. What was that smell? I would just stand close to him and smell him because he smelled soooo great. As an adult, I look back and understand that he must have been carrying a pouch or some sort of item that was made out of smoked-tanned moose hide. The moose is an animal that lives across Canada and parts of the United States. For Indigenous people in northern Ontario, the moose is integral to our way of life. In my work with mooz, it has taught me about reciprocity. This is the crux of my art practice: reciprocity - the act of mutual exchange that serves to better the livelihood of all. This is where the joy of doing my art practices is experienced. The moose sacrifices their life for our survival. It provides us with hide for clothing and crafts. For me, I make moccasins, mittens, hats with moose hide. As well, I make medallions and earrings. The mooz provides us with meat to eat, sinew for sewing, leather for sewing, bones for tools. Tanning-moose hides is a way of life for us, as Anishnaabe people. For me, I tan the hide of the moose to make leather with it. The process of tanning a moose hide is complex and involves several steps. It takes time and patience. I learned how to tan moose-hides from a group of Indigenous (Dene) grandmothers 3 years ago. Since then, I have continued my learning and practice in my backyard. Currently I have 3 moose hides in different stages going at the same time. Tanning a moose-hide takes an incredible amount of physical labour. As such, there is an instant community that is created when I am tanning a hide. My friends and family come over and help me scrape, clean, and smoke. I have learned to appreciate the importance of relationships when it comes to tanning moose hide. That reciprocity that I mentioned earlier is exemplified within relationships and this eternally makes my spirit and heart soar. Since developing my relationship with the moose, I have developed relationships with hunters, the plants that the moose eats, the water that the moose inhabits, the knowledge keepers that share their teachings with me, and, quite honestly, I have developed a loving and accepting relationship with myself. I have learned patience, humility, how to build community, and respect for all those involved in the process. The process is long and arduous. It involves: fleshing the hide, de-hairing the hide, scraping the hide , smoking it, softening it and smoking it some more. The process of tanning hide into leather is a lifelong process of learning. I am joyful when I work because I am doing something that my ancestors have done since time immemorial. It feeds my spirit in this way. Learning how to tan moose-hide is one way of reclaiming a skill that was lost during residential school era. I have chosen to honour the moose by learning how to use it in all of it glory! Last year, I learned that my 97-year old kokum (grandmother) used to tan hides when she was a young woman. I never knew this about her. This knowledge validated my yearning for learning these skills. Her friend verified that my kokum used the leather she tanned herself to make moccasins. This knowledge about her showed me that this skill-set has been carried through my blood and body. I am proud to continue this tradition within my family. Currently, I have two nieces that watch and will help with this work. The tradition continues. The end of result of a smoke-tanned hide is luxurious. First of all, the leather smells like smoke. Since it has been smoked over the fire, there is a smoky smell that is embedded in the fibers of the hide. The smell is permanent. Second of all, the actual material or leather is a delight to work with. After putting in so much energy and love into making the leather soft, when I work with the leather, the needle runs so easily through it. It’s so easy and effortless to work with. Creating soft-leather is important in my art practice given that I hand-stitch everything.

Porcupine (Gaag) is an animal that is found in Northern Ontario. It’s a sweet animal that is roly-poly and slow. The porcupine’s defense mechanism is it’s sharp quills that embed themselves in one’s skin if you get too close to the animal! I have grown up seeing a lot of porcupines on the side of the road, sniffing flowers or crossing the road. Sadly, the porcupine is too often roadkill because of its lack of speed to cross the road to safety. I have been fortunate enough to have received teachings from people who have shown me how to work with porcupine quills. I use them to decorate the moose hides. I create geometric, circular, and floral designs using quills. Historically, Anishnaabe people used porcupine quills to embellish and adorn their clothing and footwear. I love using quills because it creates a connection with the porcupine and with my ancestors. The gathering process for the porcupine quills is long and time intensive. I hand pluck each of the quills of out the porcupine’s body. There are approximately 30, 000-40,000 quills on a porcupine! When I pluck the quills, I am sorting them out at the same time. Once the sorting is complete, I clean them. The porcupine is a greasy animal as it doesn’t bathe which means that there is a lot of time spent cleaning the quills. An optional step that I take is dying the quills. I dye them vibrant colours to reflect the vibrancy of the flowers and medicines in the forest.

In my art practice, I use scissors for everything: cutting thread, cutting quills, cutting leather, or scalloping edges. Scissors are critical for my art practice. I have certain scissors that no one touches because they are my special tools. I think that most crafts people are protective of their scissors because they are so important to the process and losing scissors or having dull scissors slows the process down! I have a special place in my studio for all of my scissors.

In conclusion the materials that I use bring me bring me pleasure and pure joy. I use the porcupine and moose together because they have a complementary relationship. Both of these animals are quiet, peaceful, and humble. They are both a part of my cultural history and my current life story. The mooz and gaag provide for me. They allow my art practice to be in constant motion throughout all of the seasons. My relationship to them is like a circle: it is continual, it is reciprocal, and it is long-lasting. I am happy to be a part of the generation of Anishinaabe people that is working hard to recover what was lost whether it is the language, harvesting food, or making leather. Being a part of this cultural revival has allowed me to be a part of a community, strengthened my sense identity and belonging, and has taught me about the natural law of reciprocity between humans and animals. Thankful for a good life (mino-bimadiziwin).