narrative – never be daunted in public

Blogging with a delicious cheese sandwich (No name cheese on Winnipeg light rye bread)

Reading Blog Soundtrack: “This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open” and “Left and Leaving” by The Weakerthans

I had never blogged before this term. I practically broke into a cold sweat at the idea of our individual blogs and class blogging. I love to write. I sometimes feel that “drive to inscribe” that we’ve talked about in class. However, the thought of my blog being read by you, my fellow classmates, was frankly… terrifying. My academic writing and growth has always been something that I thought of private. Obviously profs have to read your work. You have to get a grade somehow. But, people reading my work… and having the blog just posted up there… somewhat out of my control… that’s something else entirely. So I decided to quote Hemingway and titled this blog site, “Never be daunted in public”, in hopes that I could adopt a new courage in combining the private and the public in some sort of “scholarly way.”

It’s interesting how in this course we’ve often looked at the private vs. the public and how life narratives bring very personal, private matters into the public sphere. Sarah Polley’s film Stories We Tell is a great example of how these spheres are not so separate after all. They overlap and inform each other. In some moments in the film they seem to bash into each other and shatter those separate lines completely. Her film is a family story, full of insider knowledge and intimacy that draws us as outsiders/viewers into her work. As she constructs the narrative of how she found out that Michael Polley was not her biological father and that she was the child of an affair, she examines internal and conflicting family (and friend) stories. More than give answers for how memories, stories, and identities operate in our lives, the film causes certainty to collapse under the weight of its construction and self-reflection. It beautifully raises question upon question through its use of the genres of documentary film and life narrative.

Because of the ways that Polley employs images through filmed interviews, family films, photography, and staged scenes it is also helpful to look at the genre of documentary film. I’ve been taking a documentary and history course at the same time as this course. In our discussions in that class, we have often talked about the ways in which images are seen as documents and consequently taken as truth. Yet, as Polley reveals when she pulls the lens back, images are constructions and informed by an author, who mediates the image. This is particularly apparent when she reveals, near the conclusion of the film, that some of the grainy, Super 8 films we have viewed were not actually amateur, family films, but staged representations that she has constructed. In this moment Polley complicates questions of authority, representation, and authenticity. All of these matters become just as grainy as the film. There are no crisp clean lines. Consequently, the interviews and images that were shot in the contemporary format are also reframed by the revelation of Polley’s directorial slight of hand. These interviews are scheduled and staged, framed and edited. We are not encountering Polley’s family directly as people; we are encountering filmic representation of these individuals.

The film also blurs lines of documentary modes. Bill Nichols describes the multiple forms in his book Introduction to Documentary. Polley’s utiltizes multiple forms. It is expository (Direct voiceover is given). It is participatory (Polley interacts directly with the subjects and is in fact a subject herself). It is reflexive (Polley calls attention to conventions of filmmaking within the film). And, it is also poetic (the film emphasizes visual and auditory rhythms patterns and form). There is a poetic use of images. The recurring use of the image of table brings to mind family conversations and stories that are told over dinners. There is a sense of intimacy, familiarity, and communal and personal histories represented in the image of the table. Additionally, the poetic aspect of the film is enforced through the use of music. The majority of the music in the film is taken from an album of silent film scores called, Play Me a Movie. The choice to use music from silent films is another way in which Polley addresses the subject of memory. There is a sense of nostalgia attached to silent films in general. Furthermore, it speaks to the variety of ways stories are told and enforced. The music of silent films was used to evoke emotion and create suspense. It was essential to telling the narrative. Likewise memories often evoke emotions and, like we have discussed previously in class, our memories often contribute to the stories we tell in the present. Polley uses two contemopary indie songs in her film: “Skinny Love” by Bon Iver and “Demon Host” by Timber Timbre. It would be interesting to view the film again and see where she chooses to place these songs. As a music fan, I wonder how she came across these specific works. Was she listening to them as she wrote or edited the film? Does she associate them to particular moments in her life or to particular emotions? What is she trying to express through the songs in the film? There are so many ways that artists, musicians, writers, and filmmakers interpret and represent life narratives. Polley shows us again how many voices are involved in the stories we tell about our lives.

Unsettling Experience: encountering the IRS through “Speaking to Memory”

In Unsettling the Settler Within Paulette Regan writes, “Reconnecting reason and emotion – head and heart – is integral to an unsettling pedagogy” (12). For me, walking into the “Speaking to Memory: Images and Voices from St. Michael’s Residential School” exhibit was an unsettling experience. It was unsettling emotionally. It was also a reminder of the importance of including multiple narratives, particularly those that highlight the resilience and agency of Indigenous people, in order to unsettle the colonial legacy and narrative of Canada.

As a history student, I have encountered the stories of the IRS system multiple times. However, the way that the exhibit was set up in the Museum of Anthropology forced me to confront the testimonies of survivors in a new way. Walking through the Great Hall past the totem polls, carvings and other pieces of Indigenous visual culture raised many thoughts and emotions that reminded me of the ways in which IRS sought to destroy the culture of Indigenous groups in Canada. The 1920 quote from Deputy Minister of Indian Affairs Duncan Campbell Scott of the objective of the IRS “to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic” was particularly jarring in how it was presented. For me, it was emotional because of having walked through the Great Hall. The vastness of the physical representations of Indigenous culture was in stark contrast with the sparse IRS exhibit. This contrast was continued by the way the quote was displayed on a canvas. The image of the desolate interior of a room at St. Michael’s looking out onto the beauty of nature outside the window highlighted the way in which IRS isolated Indigenous children from their families, culture, and a land that was their home. This image spoke to me about the destruction of identity for individuals and for a society. However, I do question if the exhibit’s presence on a university campus should also raise questions in regards to privilege and accessibility. Who is the exhibit intended for? Will it mostly be seen by academics, university students, and children brought in on field trips? If so, what role does this exhibit play in the process of Truth and Reconciliation? Does it even need to play a role or is it important just that it exists?

I believe this exhibit is important in the ways that it seeks to reframe the testimonies of IRS survivors. The way the exhibit was laid out with Beverly Brown’s images on one side of the room and the quotes from survivor’s testimonies on the other side highlighted the resilience of IRS survivors. For me, this layout significantly worked to return humanity and agency to the children of St. Michael’s. It explored their self-made communities. Many of the images reminded me of photographs that I have seen of my own family, depicting every day life. It reminded me of both individuals and communities. The plaque at the beginning of the photo section stated, “This photo collection is not meant to extol the virtues of St. Mike’s or justify the wrongdoing that have been publically documented. Rather, it pays tribute to the resilience, spirit and strength of these students.” I think it succeeds in doing this and that is important work in ensuring that the testimonies of survivors are not insensitively consumed by audiences hungry for tragedy. Additionally, as a student studying life narratives, I think it’s important to note that this exhibit reveals the ways in which images and language can work together and against each other to share life narratives in a moving way.

The exhibit raised many more questions in regards to truth and reconciliation and the importance of remembrance on a national level. How can we “unsettle the settler,” like Regan suggests is needed? If the opportunity to visit this exhibit is limited and privileged, where can Canadians encounter not only the tragedy and horror in the testimonies of IRS survivors, but also their resilience and strength? Further, what role do the apologies play? Does the framing of apologies by the Christian churches in Canada contribute to or disrupt the act of colonization? By framing the apologies in Christian language are the churches continuing to impose their beliefs on Indigenous cultures, even if their intentions are not to do so? In the government’s apology, the second last in the exhibition, Harper states that “there is no place in Canada for the attitudes that inspired the Indian Residential Schools system to ever prevail again.” I find myself echoing another thought from Regan. She questions: “What would it mean in concrete terms for the settler majority to shoulder the collective burden of the history and legacy of the residential school system” (2). I don’t have an answer. I see the importance of exhibits like “Speaking to Memory”, but I also believe that the audience for this exhibit and those like it must be increased if Canadians are actually to shoulder that burden.