Saskatchewan has something to say1
In the last two years there have been moments within the arts sector that have gone largely unnoticed. These changes include a focus on Black art and increasingly inclusive programming within Canadian arts institutions. For too long, BIPOC artists have felt the need to question arts institutions without guilt and to ask for more when it is deserved. In these instances of questioning, there does come a time for answers—when solutions to problems that are not complicated or complex, but that need intentional and thoughtful care. The racial justice uprisings of Black communities worldwide challenged arts and culture sectors, making it clear that they are in fact not doing enough. We could call this “the George Floyd effect.” These calls for action, which have roots that reach back to the Black abolitionist movement, asked us to rethink what it means for a Black person to take on leadership within an arts institution.
For folks like me, the failures of arts institutions come as no surprise. I’ve been involved in the Canadian arts community for the last five years. Whenever I walk into a gallery space or look at the staff list of an artist-run centre, prior to 2020, during 2020, and now, I notice who is missing; I am unlikely to see a racialized person in a position of power, let alone a Black person. It is often hard for me to imagine what an institution could look like with Black directors, curators, grant writers. As an artist based in the prairies—specifically Winnipeg, Manitoba—I have only seen Black leadership in the arts over the last year. Although this is something to celebrate, I am aware that these changes are not consistent with the history of contemporary art. This lack of consistency makes me wonder if these folks will be in their positions longer than a year. As an arts cultural worker, I refuse to let these shifts in power be temporary, treated only as reflections of events in history. The race to hire as many Black arts workers as possible, which began in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, was visible on social media as galleries rushed to be seen as inclusive art spaces. To me, these hires—and the resulting Instagram posts—were suspicious.
Although these individuals may have been hired into leadership positions, when they are hired out of a necessity to appear a certain way rather than because of a legitimate interest in their work, they are being set up to fail. In turn, when these positions go vacant, a different Black arts worker is put into that position, and the harm that is done is not evaluated, which sends a message to the community that they are supposed to be serving.
To me, this conveys the idea that hiring a Black curator or Black director will allow a gallery to make amends and absolve the institution of its past wrongs. It is impossible for one individual to achieve this during their time at an arts institution—especially without support.
It proposes the question that Alyssa Fearon brings forward: Would we have seen more Black leadership within institutions if it wasn’t for the George Floyd effect? Or are they more visible now because of this moment in history? Many Black arts workers would like to hope that their expertise as community builders, curators, and arts administrators are the reason they are hired. The dynamics that have emerged in the wake of George Floyd’s death, though, leave me doubtful. And these trophy hires are not only happening in large art metropolitan sectors like Toronto and Montreal—where density and diversity might make these changes seem natural—they are also happening right here in the Prairies.
One of the many hopes I have for these arts institutions is for them to understand that there has been a lack of visibility in Canadian arts institutions, which has an impact on our communities. I would like to see these institutions show a willingness to be flexible, to be open to new possibilities, and move away from colonial methods of working so that these directors, curators, and arts workers can be successful.
The Prairies are often perceived as the underdog of “Canadian” contemporary art, but they have proven themselves time and time again to be a hotspot for exciting and groundbreaking work. Saskatchewan has been a place where we’ve seen a unique rise of Black curators and directors. Between 2020-2021 there have been four hires of Black curators and directors throughout Saskatchewan, from various backgrounds in the arts: Crystal Mowry, previously the Senior Curator at the Kitchener-Waterloo Art Gallery, is now at the MacKenzie Art Gallery in Regina, Saskatchewan; Alyssa Fearon, not new to the prairies (she was Curator at the Art Gallery of Southwestern Manitoba from 2018 to 2020), is now the Director/Curator at the Dunlop Art Gallery, Regina Public Library; Hagere Selam “shimby” Zegeye-Gebrehiwot, born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and with an extensive film and arts administrative history in Winnipeg, is now the Executive Director of Filmpool in Regina, Saskatchewan; and Michelle Jacques, a curator with more than twenty years’ experience at institutions—including the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria—is now at Remai Modern as the Head of Exhibitions & Collections/Chief Curator.
I noticed these hires pop up one by one and thought to myself: what made these individuals make the change to come to Saskatchewan? What does it mean for them to curate, lead and work in the Prairies? And what does it mean for Black individuals to take up space in these ways? I was fortunate to be able to chat with Crystal Mowry and Alyssa Fearon to talk about their experiences, their intentions, how they think about the work they are doing at their respective institutions, and what their hopes and dreams look like in these leadership roles.
One of the many hopes I have for these arts institutions is for them to understand that there has been a lack of visibility in Canadian arts institutions, which has an impact on our communities. I would like to see these institutions show a willingness to be flexible, to be open to new possibilities, and move away from colonial methods of working so that these directors, curators, and arts workers can be successful.
Mahlet: What inspires you as curator/arts administrators?
Crystal: I grew up in Scarborough, not far from where Alyssa (Fearon) and Michelle Jacques grew up. It’s wild in some ways that the three of us landed in this province. My background is in studio practice, so a path that differs somewhat from that of many of my curatorial peers. I was practicing as an artist when I started to recognize that my studio practice was interested in troubling some of the strategies that I could see at play in museums. It’s how I ended up in a role like this one. I am committed to the possibility that we can circumvent expectations or surprise each other somehow. I am here for the surprise—that being a change in our minds about something that we thought was so fundamental to an institution’s being, changing public perceptions, starting anew.
When I was an artist I was interested in amateur ethnography and correlatives in subcultures that I saw as being exclusive in a way that wasn’t always made explicit. For example, I interviewed dog breeders about purity in the family lines of their animals. That work also served an interest in taxonomy and wondering how it may sit to ask these questions of a racialized person or someone of a somewhat ambiguous background, to go into these spaces to prompt these folks to have conversations about purity and in a sense, a lateral form of eugenics. While I was living in Halifax, I got to know members of model ship and model railroad communities. These groups were largely comprised of senior white men, all of whom were really interested in nostalgic images…images of landscapes and technologies, and romantic notions that things were better in times past. I always thought that was really sketchy, that particular relationship to nostalgia. At that time I was really interested in the overlap between data and anecdotal evidence, and how to give that information unconventional forms. In the studio, model-making became a tool to work through what I saw as a fraught relationship between nostalgia and pedagogy. Through my studio work (and eventually my curatorial work) I would try to find ways to revisit sites that felt very charged to me not only as a racialized person, but a racialized woman.
Alyssa: In terms of what inspired me to be a curator and arts administrator, I think there were people along my journey that inspired me who, just being who they are, allowed me to think differently about how the role of a museum administrator could be for someone like me. I think their commitment to supporting the work and careers of historically and systemically marginalized artists and communities made me think: OK, I think this is a place that I can exist in and do some work in. I think that really drives me to want to shape the museum for the future.
The people that inspired me along the way when I was younger and an undergrad student—that would’ve been how many years, oh my gosh OK so 2005 so that was fifteen years ago—that was when I was really starting to think about a profession or career in museums and in the art world. So I had a few profs like Richard Hill, who is now the chief curator at the Vancouver Art Gallery, Julie Crooks who is now a curator at the AGO, and Michelle Jacques who, at the time when I met her was a curator at the AGO, but now is Chief Curator at the Remai Modern. I kind of met those people at a very pivotal point, and they helped me to see something in myself where I was like OK I think I can do something like this, and they have sort of layed out a framework or model where I want to take some things, borrow some things, take some things from over here to bring my own perspective and interests to the table. I would say that I have some mentors and those are just a few.
Mahlet: What was your initial attraction to the Saskatchewan arts community?
Crystal: The MacKenzie in particular is a space that is legendary for its physical plan, which seems boring to say—but people in our sector know about this building. At least where I was in Ontario, my peers were always talking about the MacKenzie Art Gallery because the back-of-house—or the below grade and behind the scenes where production largely happens—was so carefully considered to optimize care, storage, and movement of objects.
I don’t know if I would have been as excited to be out here a decade ago as I was in 2021, but I have to say, knowing that there were incredibly inspiring colleagues working out here at the time, that certainly became a kind of pull. Michelle (Jacques) is a national treasure; when I was becoming an artist and trying to figure out what it would be like to work with museums, I was looking at the work Michelle was doing, so knowing that she was in this province I thought “that’s the place to be.” And, of course, John Hampton’s work (at the MacKenzie), Michelle (at the Remai), and Tarah Hogue (also at the Remai)—the kind of relationships they have not only with artists but the life of an exhibition…that was like music to my ears, because of the way that I tend to work as curator. It is not about the quick deliverables. I am not nourished by projects that have a clean beginning and end. When I work on a project with an artist, there’s a good chance that they are going to be in my life for a long time. So seeing that evidence of similar curatorial approaches in my community of peers here—that seemed like a safe space for experimentation. I will say that being in a community where you know there are peers who you want to see you at your best may help you do your best..
Alyssa: What drew me to Saskatchewan…at first I would tell people I came for the work and for the job. After reflecting, I think the answer runs deeper than that, because I could’ve taken a job elsewhere but I chose to come here to Regina. What sort of drew me to this place, thinking back to when I first moved to Manitoba, it was my first time moving to the Prairies—I have always lived out east. I was born and raised in Toronto; I think I became really interested in the overlooked African Canadian visual culture within the Prairies. I think African Canadian visual culture is generally overlooked in Canada; it seemed especially overlooked in the Prairies.
When I moved to Manitoba I started doing more intentional research. I was familiar with the works of Deanna Bowen, and I was slightly familiar with the work of Cheryl Foggo at the time but definitely Deanna and her work around Amber Valley. It was only when I moved to the Prairies that I became really deliberate about thinking about the research, work, history, and how I could ground myself within that longer deeper history in the Prairies.
This led me to an artist by the name of Billy Beal, who is someone that I have been continuing to do research on and highlighting his creative practice. When I made the decision to move to Saskatchewan I wasn’t quite ready to leave or set aside this growing interest that I was developing in African Canadian visual culture in the Prairies. I wanted to explore that further and go deeper with it, and I knew that the geography of the place would be important and continuing to be in this region would be important. Meaningfully and genuinely exploring those visual cultures, I thought if I go back to Toronto or if I go elsewhere, I felt that I would lose that connection to this research and to this work. I said: OK I am going to come to Saskatchewan, and I have only been there once before, and don’t really know anybody. All my family is back east, but it was this wanting to continue that exploration a bit further. Also having met a lot of the emerging artists around the Prairies—and especially Manitoba because that is where I first was—you and that sort of U of Manitoba cohort, after meeting some of you guys I think I came to the conclusion of seeing that there is a scene here that is overlooked and yet it’s rich. I thought I could see myself growing here too.
Mahlet: What is your relationship to the prairies, the land, the people, etc?
Crystal: It is one that I would say is largely informed by what I knew based on institutional histories and collegial exchange. Knowing about the institution’s programming more so than the place, the reputation kind of eclipsed the nuances of its setting for me quite honestly. I am learning a lot about the nuances of this place and this city in particular, Regina. There are also amazing people that have been through the MacKenzie Art Gallery that have set the standard for what artistic exploration can look like within an institution’s walls. While I was raised in Toronto, a good portion of my professional career was spent on its periphery. There is something incredibly liberating about working in a community that isn’t always illuminated. Here, we can create opportunities for experimentation without fear of failure looming so heavily above you.
There is something special about knowing that you can experiment in public, and that you are encouraged to take risks. I feel that is in the ethos of this place. I have thought about the legacy of Indigenous curators at the MacKenzie: Lee-Ann Martin, or Michelle LaVallee, and Patricia Deadman in particular. This place must have been safe enough to support that great work – their great work. That registers with me as something worth remembering and carrying forward. There are so many spaces, especially in 2020 and 2021, where there was such urgency to hire Black folks, not really thinking about what it means to take care of them within the institution and to see them as more than an immediate fix for DEI (Diversity, Equity & Inclusion) issues. I ask myself what kind of reciprocity I can bring to fledging relationships while recognizing that I too have to commit to making others feel safe in these spaces. I can’t assume that I have all of those skills currently at my disposal. There’s bound to be a healthy amount of learning along the way.
Alyssa: I think that’s one of the things I really like about living and working here—that I have had the opportunity to work more closely with Indigenous artists, curators, and writers in ways that I could have in Toronto, but did not see at the time as possible. I have been able to do that more often living in the Prairies, but living in Regina specifically. I have been really fortunate to work with Indigenous colleagues who have been mentors and who I have also had the opportunity to mentor. I think it’s such an important relationship and dynamic to have. Black and Indigenous communities have to be in solidarity with each other if we’re ever going to see the possibility of a decolonized future. I think also just continuing my work with history and thinking about the relationships between African Canadians and Indigenous people in the Prairies. I think that if we’re really honest about our past histories, there were periods of conflict and periods of coming together. I think that’s what it means to be in proximity to one another. The possibility for conflict and coming together still exists today, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a negative thing. There are constructive ways to engage in conflict and to be collaborative; there are a lot of shared values and interests. A lot of the ways I have been trying to foster relationships with Indigenous people in Regina is through informal connections and ways of getting together. Not necessarily with the expectation of a specific outcome that would benefit me or the institution, just genuinely wanting to get to know a person, which is consistent with my personality, so it isn’t something that I have to try hard at or try to do. It’s something that is a part of my nature as an introverted Libra—maybe that’s where it comes from. If it results in a working relationship, that’s cool too. And the thing about Regina is that it’s so small too. It’s hard to keep those two worlds separate because you see the same people all the time. It was like that in Brandon too. In Toronto it was a lot different—there are certain pockets and spaces.
I think about what is driving me, and it’s that I knew community would be so much a part of my survival while living here, it’s also about me trying to form a community that can sustain me and that I hopefully can support and sustain others in the process.
Mahlet: What is your goal/goals while you hold these positions?
Crystal: My goal is to earn trust. I see it as a goal that affords momentum—because it isn’t a task you can measure and consider complete. There is always going to be a collaborator, colleague, or community that hasn’t found hospitality within the institution’s walls. It may appear to happen at a glacial pace, but the policies and ways of measuring success within our edifices are changing. I want to override the assumption that inheritances are sacrosanct.
Alyssa: I firmly believe in shifting the centre, or at least thinking about the possibility of many centres. I came with that perspective and mindset when I moved out west. It doesn’t need to be only one, I want to think more expansively, and it made me think maybe I can be out here, because there are so many brilliant people in the Prairies—but especially in Regina—who I feel so excited to work with and collaborate with. Being in the same environment as them, I think that Regina is totally a centre. I hope that I am building that and increasing that in a way. My goal, in terms of what I believe, is a growing and thriving arts community here in Regina. Working alongside folks that are like-minded—it’s been amazing having people like Crystal out here; Shimby, who is from Winnipeg; John Hampton, who is at the MacKenzie; Michelle Jacques; David Garneau; and the list goes on.
There are so many people in Regina that are mentors of mine, and what are the odds that it all has overlapped. Thinking about time and space, what are the odds of all our paths intersecting at this specific time and place? I think that’s really wonderful and generative for me. I don’t know how long I will be in Regina, but we’ll see. For the time being I am so glad to be here.
Feature image: Photo of Alyssa Fearon by Anique Jordan; photo of Crystal Mowry by Daniella Okezie. Both, courtesy of the curators.
Image description: Side-by-side headshots of Alyssa Fearon and Crystal Mowry. Both are turned slightly to the left and facing the camera.
Mahlet Cuff is an emerging curator, writer and artist. She is based in Treaty 1 Territory in so-called Winnipeg, Manitoba. She has interviewed artists and cultural workers for the Winnipeg Art Gallery, Winnipeg Film group, Yiara Mag, Manitoba music and Synonym Art Consultation.
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