As I start to helplessly sound out the syllables in my head, my mouse scrolls over the spider and a mellow voice effortlessly does the work for me. Isi-pîkiskwêwin-Ayapihkêsîsak. “Speaking the Language of Spiders.” I move my mouse around several more times, like Pavlov’s dog, trying to connect the words in my ears to the words in my eyes. As if I am going to somehow understand better by listening a few more times.
I click on the spider, looking one more time at the spelled-out words as if I can read them.
Nine still images and a banner come before my eyes. They don’t move, but the sounds do. The sighing and melodious breathing sounds so raw, so real. Inappropriate somehow, at least when addressed by white notions of respectability. Sighs are reserved for sex, for the private in the culture that I’m used to.
The music starts, and I can feel the herstory/history of the melody although I can’t comprehend the words. Nor was I meant to. The laughter I can understand, though. The audio track ends. It must be time to pick a panel. But which one should I choose? As if I can’t come back and study each of them later.
I pick the bottom middle panel, a fluorescent skeleton of some sort. “Spirits Bring Gifts,” says another voice. I click on the image. “Ghost Touch” feels like a riddle that I’m supposed to decode. Which dead man’s room did the narrator see her picture in? I read it again, forcing myself not to think too hard but to let the words speak for themselves. I look outside my own window. As if I can connect to the narrator by mirroring their actions.
I click the buffalo to go back to the main screen. Again the breaths, the music. I click on the buffalo panel.
“The Arrival of Nenabose,” announces my guide. Flood & Recreation of Earth. I click on the color-saturated portrait.
I start reading “Leaving Town On Saturday Night,” but realize there is an audio to do the reading for me. I slow down to read along with the voice, but my eyes become impatient. They dart ahead, they dart across the page. As if I need to absorb all I can before the audio track ends.
I would write out a reflexive account of my entire engagement with Isi-pîkiskwêwin-Ayapihkêsîsak, but then I wouldn’t have enough words left in my post for analysis. I found the site to be an artful and self-aware remediation of a traditional cosmology cycle. The nature of the website medium means that it is accessible to anyone with a computer and internet access, but the poetry and imagery assumes a certain level of traditional knowledge going in. There is no navigational index or glossary of terms, so one can really only get as much out of the work as one has already put into learning about First Nations culture. This means that although the website is can be accessed by anyone, the meaning of the words and imagery is hidden to degrees to anyone outside the circle of communal knowledge. I think the title suggests that due to the inexorable weaving of the interweb across geographies and cultures, there is a growing need to learn to “speak the language of spiders,” or acquire some internet literacy while using that medium to enliven rather than erase the herstories/histories of First Nations peoples. It is amazing to me that Isi-pîkiskwêwin-Ayapihkêsîsak is as old as it is because I think it still has years of relevance ahead of it.
daphne woodrooffe
October 26, 2015 — 5:18 pm
” …although the website can be accessed by anyone, the meaning of the words and imagery is hidden to degrees to anyone outside the circle of communal knowledge. I think the title suggests that due to the inexorable weaving of the interweb across geographies and cultures, there is a growing need to learn to “speak the language of spiders,” or acquire some internet literacy while using that medium to enliven rather than erase the herstories/histories of First Nations peoples.”
Thanks for your piece. I really enjoyed this section above because it reminded me of how a few students got me thinking about The Cave (the sci-fi indigenous futurism short film). I remember someone in class saying it wasn’t really for the settler viewer. The narrative is one that is familiar to the audience and community it’s intended to reach. And that ends up serving two purposes: it establishes itself as a form of Indigenous sovereignty and for the settlers who watch it, it disrupts and challenges the familiar tropes and produces productive discomfort. Not sure if that’s exactly on point with what Maskegon-Iskwew intended or with what you’re getting at here, but maybe there’s room there to link those experiences or explore why that link might exists (well, it did for me, anyways). Regardless, thanks for sharing!
david gaertner
October 29, 2015 — 11:54 am
Another lovely post, Andrée. Choosing to open with a reflexive piece was a savvy idea. Part of what makes Maskegon-Iskwew’s work so interesting is how he engages his audiences. Your interaction becomes part of the work itself, which can be a very tricky thing to write about. Nice work.
You end with a very provocative statement, which is left hanging. I’d like to hear more about how and why you think Isi-pîkiskwêwin-Ayapihkêsîsak remains relevant. Things end a bit abruptly here. Still, a pleasure to read.
Melissa Morrison
November 1, 2015 — 12:16 am
Thank you Andrée for this wonderful post. Your reflective piece was very calming to consume. I appreciated reading your analysis of your interaction with Isi-pîkiskwêwin-Ayapihkêsîsak. I felt similar emotions to you during my interaction with the Speaking the Language of Spiders website. As you noted, this interactive site has also made me self-aware of how I interacted with the pieces of audio attachment and how my eyes had often become impatient as well. I also wonder if there could be an underlying connection to Marshal McLuhan’s idea of how our interaction with the medium ultimately affects the overall message we retrieve from this interactive site? Lastly, you also bring some insightful thoughts of knowledge gaps that may be present between each consumer based on their understanding of First Nations studies and cultures when they enter the site. Do you find that this interactive site could be inspiring for readers to take initiative to learn more about First Nations studies and cultures or is it just another medium of consumption that is felt and the impactful messages and stories shared in this site just left out in the online web?
louise harding
November 1, 2015 — 6:02 pm
Hi Andrée, After seeing in our class discussion how much individual variability there was in each person’s experience of Speaking the Language of Spiders, I really enjoyed this reflexive account. Several of the other posts discussed the way in which the piece makes you consider yourself as you interact with it, so this was very cool to see how that manifested for you.