Q. Describe your experience working with the Indigiqueer Youth who were part of the Video Workshop Program.

There was one student from Fiji, he did a series of videos talking to queer and trans and drag performers in Fiji. And then we had another one who is in Colombia who made a video that was talking to her elders about sexual diversity and her elders were not super supportive of it. But she has this really open sense of wanting to get back to the old acceptance that there used to be in the area. And then there were two others who were from the States: one made a video about her family’s history and the other one did a video about the history of the Indigenous urban community in Seattle. So they’re all different videos. And it was great to work with them. They’re really interesting people.

Q. Could you share your reflections on the significance of DBIWP through your different lenses and through the themes of your artistic work that you do?

Part of my practice has been passing on skills. So in that regard, it was a really good experience for me to be able to teach youth how to make videos in our video workshop program. We also had two guest speakers which was really exciting for me and the youth. We had Erica Tremblay, who did Fancy Dance [co-wrote, directed, and produced the movie, starring Lily Gladstone] and Sky Hopinka, who got one of those Macarthur genius grants, so they’re connecting people, especially emerging artists with older people in the industry or older artists. That’s important to me. So I think that was something I really appreciated.

Q. Could you speak to what you think is important about events like DBIWP?

Just having more connections is important, especially in the world we’re living in. Diversity is important. And having different cultures perform for each other and share stories is, I think, crucial, especially for building marginal communities, Indigenous communities around the world. It’s important. And I think also just the youth being able to show their videos that they work so hard on is also important—to have an audience and their chance to shine.

Q. I’m wondering if your perspective on DBIWP events has shifted over time or specifically within the current political context?

It feels more important now, because our communities are under threat. I just saw something recently about how the Smithsonian is now also being attacked, the [U.S.] President doesn’t want them to show things that are divisive according to him, which I think is just talking about people who aren’t white. So the more we have spaces to perform our art and share with each other is important. But also there are organizations, galleries, and festivals that seem to be complying in advance in the States. I’ve noticed where they either have canceled shows or are not programming BIPOC or QTBIPOC [Queer and Trans, Black, Indigenous, People of Color], Indigenous, [and] queer people. And I don’t think it serves anybody for these organizations to be compliant in advance with totalitarian government. So, seeing that happen has been dismaying, but knowing that there are still organizations that are committed to this work is important.

Q. You will be attending DBIWP via Zoom due to being trans and issues related to crossing the border. Can you speak to the difficulty the trans community is facing when it comes to traveling to the U.S.?

The U.S. border is getting harder to cross every day, for a lot of people, not just trans people. But I started out last year. I knew something was gonna come. So I decided to stop coming to the States. But then they started having all these restrictions at the border and restrictions on trans people getting visas and stuff, especially where you needed to present a passport that has your birth gender on it. I don’t have that kind of passport anymore because I did do a legal name change and gender change here in Canada. So my ID has all been updated. And so I don’t have the appropriate documentation to cross the border anymore.

Q. I wonder if you would be willing to share a bit or reflect a bit on the themes that tend to be the focus of your own work.

I think a lot of it started out being about identity, marginal identities that I had being Indigenous and queer, and having madness in there also. And then it started being more about community. So a lot of my videos now are about the Indigiqueer, queer community, and Two-Spirit community—how politics operates on our community and issues facing our community, even just within ourselves, disagreements and agreements, and the difficulties of all caring for each other. And the joys of caring for each other, too. My practice went from being very individualistic to being very community focused.

Q. You mentioned madness. Could you talk about what that means for you?

I have bipolar disorder. So I had a lot of depression growing up which obviously influenced my worldview a lot which is funny because I make a lot of comedic videos . . . And then, when I was 24, I had my first manic episode. So bipolar has touched my life in a certain way, where the mood swings colored my life. But also, being somebody who was subjected to institutionalization in a psych ward and in a group home has changed the way I think about the world. Being involuntarily confined is horrifying, but it’s something that people don’t understand unless they’ve been in a situation where they were not allowed to leave a hospital or a prison. So it taught me things; I use them in my work.

Q. Could you speak about the ways that being Indigenous has impacted your creation of art and the work that you do?

It’s all tied in with my art, the stories I tell, I think, because a lot of my videos have monologues to them, which is how my grandfather used to tell his traditional stories that have been passed down through the family. So a lot of my videos start with a monologue. And they’re this first-person story. And a lot of my family is storytellers. I have an auntie who’s a writer and I have an uncle who is a journalist. And my mom’s an artist and my dad’s an artist. So Indigenous art and storytelling was always a part of my life. I think I was destined to make some art or storytelling in in my career . . . When I was growing up, I always saw my mom mentoring other artists and doing so much work in the community; she was always on a board of some kind. She just really instilled in me this need to give back to the community and make sure it’s not that you’re just getting ahead for your own personal gain. It’s you’re getting ahead, but you’re also bringing people with you. So that was a value I got from her really strongly.

Q. And is there a key message that you would want any Indigiqueer folks who are attending DBIWP to take home with them?

I think I would want people to know that if they haven’t made art before, it’s very easy to make art. You don’t have to make perfect art to make art. I always want to encourage people to tell their own stories, if there’s a story that you have that isn’t being told, then I think you should try to figure out a way to tell that story, even if it’s just a poem or a written story—you don’t always have to make a film. But I would always encourage more Indigiqueer stories and art making out there than there is now, because we need more.

Q. Do you have a message for allies attending DBIWP?

It’s to, especially now, to protect Indigiqueer/queer people. And that doesn’t mean ignoring them. Protection doesn’t mean isolating people. I think that means celebrating them. And if a larger force is trying to say that’s not an appropriate person to celebrate because they’re queer or trans, or whatever, then you don’t have to listen to that. Resist by celebrating marginalized people and giving them a space to talk and perform and show their work.

Q. Are there any other projects that you’re working on?

Right now, I’m working on an Indie video game called, Repatriate Me where you’re the spirit of this Indigenous nêhiyaw, which is a Plains Cree man, whose remains are being held in a museum, and he has to fight his way up to the top of the museum to the director’s office to get repatriated. And then I’m also going to be shooting a short film this summer called Poor, which is just based on—I got really fed up with being poor. So I wrote a story about it and I got money to make it. And I’m also working on a feature film. But . . . it’s still in development. We’re doing the last draft of it, and then we’re gonna go for production money. But it’s about murdered and missing Indigenous women, and it’s a vengeance rescue story with supernatural powers.