Joi Arcand: she used to want to be a ballerina
The inventory of objects in Joi T. Arcand's exhibition she used to want to be a ballerina at the U of S's College Gallery 2 is short.
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By Sandee Moore
Joi Arcand: she used to want to be a ballerina. Curated by Leah Taylor.
At University of Saskatchewan, College Art Gallery 2
May 24 — Aug. 17
The inventory of objects in Joi T. Arcand’s exhibition, entitled she used to want to be a ballerina, at the University of Saskatchewan’s College Gallery 2 is short: two neon signs, a music box and three photographs in light boxes, eight magazines and a wall of text. Yet, as uncluttered and deliberately spaced as it is, the gallery cannot contain the immaterial elements of Arcand’s vision — light, sound, and words.
Rays of cool violet and throbbing crimson spill through the glass doors and reach toward visitors strolling the halls. A romping, tinkling tune fills the narrow rectangle of the gallery and echoes through the carved stone halls of the century-old building that houses it.
Plains Cree syllabics glowing with the intensity of coals in a dying fire greet visitors to the gallery with a kindly admonishment: ᐁᑳᐏᔭ ᓀᐯᐏᓯ. The label tells me that ᐁᑳᐏᔭ ᓀᐯᐏᓯ can be read as ēkawiya nēwëpisi or, in English, Don’t be shy. But I am shy about my ignorance of the language of this land. The words are not voiced but become waves of light washing over my body. I wonder what it would be like to be immersed in Nēhiyawēwin Cree, not just bathed in its radiance.
The glass tubes twisted into syllabics and nested within the sharp contours of sheet metal channels are a duplicate of the original ᐁᑳᐏᔭ ᓀᐯᐏᓯ (ēkawiya nēwëpisi — Don’t be shy), which is permanently affixed to the exterior of a building in Montreal. Arcand, whose photo series Here On Future Earth made her a finalist for the 2018 Sobey Art Award, Canada’s preeminent award for contemporary art, is not content to imagine what it would feel like to be surrounded by Cree language. Instead, she has taken on the task of Indigenizing public spaces, emblazoning the facades of institutions across the country with neon and vinyl phrases that reference her experiences of learning Cree as a second language.
Arcand credits her desire to speak Cree as the driving force behind her work as a visual artist and designer. In a partially partitioned second room, Arcand takes steps, both literal and figurative, toward realizing her dreams — twin childhood dreams of becoming a ballerina and a fancy dancer.
In a series of three photographic light boxes, titled she used to want to be a ballerina (for grandma Vivian), Arcand assumes standardized ballet positions. Below the ribbon and fringe-edged hem of her skirt, Arcand draws the heels of her bare feet together, toes pointed straight out to each side and angling one foot behind the other. The blue satin of the skirt with its dual band of pink and black ribbons is an artifact from the artist’s youth, sewn for her by her grandmother.
Returning to Treaty 6, where she was born and raised, for this show provided Arcand with an opportunity to share this work with her grandmother, who lives in Saskatchewan. A companion piece entitled she used to want to be a ballerina (for Buffy Sainte-Marie) rests on a plinth tucked into the far corner. Paying homage to a beloved Indigenous creator from Saskatchewan, she used to want to be a ballerina (for Buffy Sainte-Marie) is both the source of the chiming melody and the exhibition’s title. The lid to this pink jewelry box, covered with holographic stickers of stars and butterflies, is open, exposing a pink satin interior and a ballerina figurine spinning in place.
In one verse of Sainte-Marie’s song, the refrain of “she used to wanna be a ballerina” is followed by the lyric, “she settled for satisfaction of her soul.” Though Arcand’s works give form to regret, they can also satisfy the need to act with the dance of a hand forming writing or tongue speaking.
Gases excited with electricity have long shone with promises of indulgent pleasure and enticements to vice, promising nude dancers, cinematic fantasy, hotels of every description, beer and the like. In 2019, neon signs are the stuff of quaint hipster stores and retro-revivals, and a staple of contemporary art. Saskatoon has seen its share of neon artworks: in 2017 the Remai Modern commissioned a constellation of incandescent pictograms from LA-based artist Pae White to chase away the winter blues, and a trio of artists placed neon letters on Broadway Avenue reading “nipiy mîna sîpiy” or “River and Sky” in Cree syllabics in 2018.
Arcand’s works, on the other hand, illuminate her struggle, and that of countless others, to forge an authentic Cree identity. Ē-kī-nōtē-itakot opwātisimowiskwēw (she used to want to be a fancy dancer) is scrawled across the wall in cool violet cursive. I mouth the unfamiliar syllables as if this could conjure up the artist’s discarded dream of being a fancy dancer.
To be any sort of dancer is to be active and joyful in the world. Regardless of skill, this is the sort of dream to which we should all aspire.
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