Maybe it's about being there...(article)

"Long and Wasted Years"
 

It's been such a long, long time
Since we loved each other and our hearts were true
One time, for one brief day, I was the man for you

Last night I heard you talking in your sleep
Saying things you shouldn't say
Oh baby, you just might have to go to jail someday

Is there a place we can go?
Is there anybody we can see?
Maybe, it's the same for you as it is for me

I ain't seen my family in twenty years
That ain't easy to understand
They may be dead by now
I lost track of them after they lost their land

Shake it up baby twist and shout
You know what it's all about
What are you doing out there in the sun anyway?
Don't you know the sun can burn your brains right out?

My enemy crashed into the dust
Stopped dead in his tracks and he lost his lust
He was run down hard and he broke apart
He died in shame he had an iron heart

I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes
There are secrets in them I can't disguise
Come back baby if I ever hurt your feelings I apologize

Two trains running side by side
Forty miles wide, down the eastern line
You don't have to go
I just came to you because your a friend of mine

I think that when my back was turned
The whole world behind me burned
It's been awhile since we walked down that long, long aisle

We cried on that cold and frosty morn
We cried because our souls were torn
So much for tears, so much for these long and wasted years

_ _ _

For me, there is something to doing things out of posterity. That is, documenting here (on the nebulous web) snippets of my life and my times, simply for sake of the future. It may be important to none other than me but in that it seems very important.

In conversation people who know me understand the importance of music, poetry, art in general and Bob Dylan specifically. It’s merely a perspective but I do believe that Bob Dylan is the Shakespeare of our time and will be immortalized through his recorded work. I challenge anyone to give me the name of someone, anyone born in the in 1560’s…Go ahead…

See?

It’s challenging to make a mark in our own time, our own LIFE. But to have the grace to have been the creator, maker, author of so much creative material astounds. As one who has tried his hand at poetry, prose, music and lyric making I am simply amazed at the notion of the volume of material coming from a single source, a single person. I think we are conditioned to think it’s easy. Turn on the radio and you are inundated with songs, hits, chart-toppers. But how many of these are one-hit wonders? How many will last - how many aren’t simply frivolous articles of fashion? A 50 year recording career, a novel, a biography, at least 3 films, several books of drawings, exhibitions of his paintings all over the world, art installations and a never-ending tour beginning in 1988 that has seen him tour every year since. To say that is creative output is prolific and varied is well below understating it.

On this blog I’ve conceded to the notions of taste and preference and I will do so again – for some, Dylan’s voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard, but I love the sound of his weathered and distinctive wail. However, as with Shakespeare, I believe posterity will have the final word. Not only did people in his time appreciate the Bard’s (Shakespeare's) work, but as time went on more and more did also. This I believe will be the case with Bob Dylan. There will always be an audience of admirer’s of exhibitions Picasso’s paintings and drawings. In any given city there will always several productions of Shakespeare’s dramatic work under way. And I believe there will always be an audience of listeners and musicians to appreciate Dylan’s songs and recording artists continuing to include their versions of his songs on their records. Sure, a person can have a hit. Some have several. Some have greatest hits packages one and two. But no recording artist of our time is as universally covered as Bob Dylan. This means that among his fellow craftsmen and women he is more revered than anybody. Imitation is the purest form of flattery it’s been said. The people who write and record songs themselves consistently dip into the well created by Dylan. I won’t delve into the cultural significance of the artist here because I believe that to be of less import than his truest legacy - an immense body of songs of depth and power.

So it was that last October I waffled though I knew Uncle Bob was playing 3 consecutive nights in Seattle WA., a 3 hour’s drive across the border and south. Could my finances bear it? Who could go with me on such short notice? Were tickets yet available? And now several months later I am so glad I seized upon what may be the last chance I’ll have to see him in concert though I said the same thing in Oct 2001, when the lights went down at the start of his show then, when he was a sprite 61 years old.

I am including his performance and the lyrics to Lost and Wasted Years from TEMPEST, his most recent album of original songs. It’s a wonderful thing that in his 70's he is still composing original songs of startling lyrical intensity and still traversing the world modestly to perform night after night like an old bluesman, like a troubadour. What else was Bob Dylan put here on earth to do? And unlike Shakespeare or Picasso, I got to be in the same room with Bob Dylan several times over the years as he did his thing. There'll never be the likes of him again.

©2015 Champsteen Publishing

   

Alanis Obomsawin: The Real Deal

L to R, The Champ, Alanis Obomsawin, Storm Standing-On-The-Road

Serendipity is a wondrous thing and it brought Storm and me to the chance to spend time with 2 Aboriginal women filmmakers of immense talent this evening. This week W2 is hosting the 2^nd annual Vancouver Indigenous Media Arts Festival…I actually called in sick this morning with a stupendous head cold but when I discovered through social media that Abenaki filmmaker Alanis Obomsawin would attend screening of her latest NFB documentary, The People of the Kattawapiskak River, I knew I would be there. But the added bonus was that the double feature included Ojibway director Darlene Naponse’s feature Every Emotion Costs. Darlene, it just so happens, is related to Storm (through her mama, again) and she and I were fellow artsy, writerly-type students at Okanagan artist Jeanette Armstrong’s beloved En’owkin Center at Penticton for 2 years and we are old pals you might say.

Plenty of times on this blog I’ve given high praise to the creative types or various others but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of accolades than Obomsawin. I’ve always felt this way about her ever since I first viewed her ’93 doc Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance which chronicles the 1990 Oka Crisis. Oka was of course a defining moment in history for Indians like me – Oka changed everything. And I am not the only one. The elegant and gracious director is now 80 years old (amazing) and I hounded Storm all day to commit to coming with me to the screening. The film was, as usual, powerful and heartfelt and I recommend any of her 30 films all based on subjects having to do with Native People and the majority of which have been produced by the National Film Board. This woman holds several honorary doctorates; a Governor General’s Award and is an Officer of the Order of Canada. She is supremely dedicated and so clearly loves our people that I never miss a chance to hear her speak. She is the real deal.

L to R, The Champ, Storm, (film maker) Suzi Bekkattla, (Director) Darlene Naponse

Naponse’s film is an emotionally charged piece on grief, healing and the complexity of relationships. Her film is lush and visually crafted on a script she wrote and produced (all while holding down a band-council position) at Whitefish Lake 1^st Nation, Ontario where it was shot (it was a trip whispering to Storm during the film: hey, that’s your relative on the left of the screen). Back in the day, Darlene was always shooting and writing, shooting and writing and you just knew she possessed the determination to go wherever it was she intended. I am so proud of and for her.

Ironic and lucky for me that I should wake this morning discouraged that my previously oncoming sniffles had become a full-on ragin’ sneeze orgy, only to be now hitting the sack fed and fortified by the healing power of art…and great company.

© 2012 Champsteen Publishing.

That's (Real) Showbiz...

Recently, I produced a list of 10 fillems that I insist my daughter Storm see at some point in the next year or so. Note that I refer to these as fillems, not movies. Movies are something different and not important (something full of explosions, CGIs or lame jokes and usually very predictable and not much fun) . I look at it a something of a rite of passage and a way of educating her to some works of celluloid art that have left an indelible mark on me. Late this past summer we viewed The Shining together (was that wrong? – REDRUM!?), which she claimed to enjoy. Last week came a rare and thrilling opportunity to not only watch Smoke Signals together, but also to be among the audience for an interview following the screening with Evan Adams by Duncan McCue. Coast Salish actor Adams, of course played the now-iconic role of Thomas Builds-The Fire (Hey, Victor!) and McCue (Anishnabe) is a nationally re-known CBC television news journalist. The film is based upon characters and stories found in the short story collection, Tonto and the Lone Ranger Fist-Fight In Heaven by Coeur d'Alene writer, Sherman Alexie (another gem and among my favorite literary achievements). For someone like me it was a beautiful opportunity to have Storm experience the power and beauty of a fillem that speaks to the soul and never fails to get me…right here! But it was also a chance for Storm to see demonstrated (more importantly) the generosity of spirit and an authentic exchange of ideas that are the true means to empowerment and community-building.

L to R, Evan Adams, Duncan McCue, Storm Standing-On-The-Road and Loretta Todd

SFU Downtown Campus served as venue and was moderated by (Metis/Cree) film-maker Loretta Todd. My daughter is old pals (through her mother) with McCue and Todd and it was so much fun to listen to the discussion ostensibly on humor and healing but which managed to be full of hilarious insights and poignant reflection by both actor and interviewer. It was also a chance to experience the finest talent in Indian country in a relaxed and intimate setting. Throughout this blog, one of the themes I’ve consistently tried to explore is creativity. Now, obviously the participants mentioned all bear a high profile but what was most evident this night was the natural grace and humility of all involved. This aspect also has found its way frequently into the articles I’ve posted and I believe is a feature, quality or trait found in many, many of the successful persons of profile in the 1st Nations community. It has been my experience over and over again, through the years that typically, a well-known person or someone we may identify as successful is generally down to earth and very approachable. I love this about our people.

Beyond this, Smoke Signals itself is a fillem that is exceptionally moving and utterly guileless in its charm. This means that it’s nearly perfect in its modest (though exquisite) execution and could not have been improved upon with more millions in its production budget or alternate casting choices. It’s a fillem that is tough, tender and whimsical and as I mentioned before, profound. Like all pieces of true art, it remains, timeless.

© 2012 Champsteen Publishing        

...Now THAT's What I'm Talkin About...(article)

*update (added April 25, 2011)

Film Screening: Aakideh
Saturday, April 16, 1 pm & Tuesday, April 26, 7 pm
‘Aakideh’ is an Ojibwe word meaning brave or brave-hearted. Artist Carl Beam earned a reputation for being fearless, visionary and ultimately, unforgettable. From his early years growing up on Manitoulin Island to his turbulent years spent at a residential school, this documentary explores how these early experiences not only impacted Beam’s life but also his art. Location: Museum of Anthropology, Screening time: 65 minutes.



Only in a world this cool could a Cree guy (me), on Coast Salish territory (Vancouver) visit the Museum of Anthropology to learn about the life and work of an Ojibway/Anishnabe (Carl Beam) artist from a Mohawk man (Greg Hill). In a world where many people (it seems) prefer to think of Indian art (and indeed, Indians) as relics, artifacts or something belonging to the past, last night was the perfect example of how a person and their work can transcend time and space. This in my mind is one of the things good art is supposed to do. Carl Beam’s vibrant display of painting, collaged images and text, not to mention his work in other mediums including architecture, installation, pottery, broadcasting and curriculum development and the places he studied and lived the and choices he made, all seem to depict a LIFE that IS art. And though the artist has now passed from this world his work continues to resonate and speak for itself which is another item of criteria that I think validates it. His work is also a clear example of culture that is alive and vibrant and is completely appropriate in a contemporary context. But the work and many of the things Carl Beam did outside of the studio or art gallery deeply reflect his roots and values (which is key) as an Anishnabe person. Only an Anishnabe person could have created this work and only Carl Beam could have created it in this fashion - it is completely original and you will experience nothing like it any other place or at any other time. Dig it while you can.


©2011 Champsteen Publishing

For What It's Worth...(20th Annual Missing & Murdered Women's Memorial March)...editorial

2010 Women's March


the 20th Annual Missing Woman’s March (in East Vancouver) is many things to many people; a call for justice, a call for peace, a time to reflect or to grieve or a fleeting moment to pray that no other mother, daughter, sister, niece, aunty ever become one taken as so many have been before. I go simply to honor the ones lost and to support their families with my presence. At the end of the day I believe that each other are all we have. I feel that relatives and people I never met have prayed for me in the same way that I pray for the ones to come after me. It is a deeply held conviction that gets stronger with me as I get older. Time and experience shows there is little consolation or comfort to be found in institutions or society (such as it is) in general. If I, as a native person, cannot be counted on to provide (at a minimum) moral support, how can I expect anything from anyone else? One need only remember how last year the city of Vancouver pressured organizers of the march to postpone the event until after the Olympic party was over. It may have seemed to be something of a downer for all those more keyed on having a good time. Fortunately, the people who knew better did better and the march took place on Valentine’s Day just as it will this year. In my mind, the power in ceremony is derived from the presence and common purpose of those in attendance…it is about being there. Down here, everybody knows everybody it seems and identifying yourself as a member of a community needs to be exemplified in some active fashion. Politics and rhetoric will always find a platform at the periphery of these things but the love and spirit of the people who have lost someone to an angry and insatiable culture can’t be diminished. If nothing else, today’s march may simply be a call for grace…


© 2011 Champsteen Publishing