Emily Carr’s Second Act — and Ours

 Emily Carr’s Second Act — and Ours

At the turn of the year, I keep thinking about Emily Carr’s second act.

Not the version we’re taught in school — the famous painter, the forests, the recognition — but the long stretch before that, when she was dismissed, broke, exhausted, and out of step with her time.

Emily Carr didn’t “arrive” young.
She struggled for decades.
She lived through economic upheaval, colonial extraction, industrial frenzy, and cultural amnesia.
She was told — directly and indirectly — that her way of seeing didn’t matter.

Sound familiar?

Her deep attention to forests, Indigenous villages, and the inner life of the land had no market value in a society obsessed with profit, empire, and expansion. She was marginalized not because she lacked talent, but because the system had no use for her truth.

And yet — she didn’t stop seeing.

Her second act came later, after illness, isolation, and years of being ignored. It arrived not because the world suddenly became wise, but because she stayed true long enough for the world to catch up, even briefly.

That’s what second acts really are.
Not reinvention as spectacle — but continuation with clarity.

Today, history is looping again.

Communities hollowed out.
Housing treated as a commodity instead of a shelter.
People working themselves into exhaustion and shame while being told it’s a personal failure.
Artists, elders, caregivers, truth-tellers pushed aside because they don’t fit the algorithm, the market, or the brand.

This is Potterville — with better lighting.

Emily Carr lived through an earlier version of this collapse. My own family did too. And many of us are feeling it again now, in our bodies, our finances, our cities.

But here’s the part worth carrying into the New Year:

Emily Carr didn’t rush her second act.
She didn’t optimize it.
She didn’t explain herself to death.

She listened.
She rested when she could.
She returned to the land, the forest, the quiet knowing that seeing clearly is an act of resistance.

Maybe that’s what this moment is asking of us.

Less noise.
Less proving.
More honesty.
More attention to what is real and alive.

A second act doesn’t need permission.
It only needs courage — and time.

As the New Year begins, I’m holding that thought gently.
Not as a resolution.
But as a direction.

🎂🎨 Happy Birthday, Emily Carr 🌲💚

 🎂🎨 Happy Birthday, Emily Carr 🌲💚

A Letter from Emily’s 2nd Act

Dear Emily,

Happy Birthday 💐
I feel like I’m only just beginning to know you — and yet, somehow, I’ve known you for a long time.

Over the last year, I’ve been reading, researching, listening, and sitting with your story 📚✨. Not just the famous version — but the lonely parts, the stubborn parts, the parts where you kept going even when no one was buying, no one was praising, and everyone seemed to think you were too much or not enough.

And something shifted in me.

This past year, I did something brave.
I built a Steam Trunk Art Studio 🧳🎨 — a portable, scrappy, beautiful little universe where my art could live and travel with me. That trunk became a safe container, a cocoon, a place where ideas could breathe and my hands could move without fear.

Then I did something even scarier 😳💥
I faced my anxiety head-on and signed up for a Winter Fair ❄️🎄.

Craft fairs used to terrify me.
The noise. The people. The judgment. The vulnerability of putting your art out into the world and saying “Here. This came from me.”

But I went anyway.
And you know what?
✨ I conquered that fear. ✨

I made a whole bunch of art — paintings, pieces, experiments, things born from joy and curiosity rather than pressure 🖌️🖼️💫. I talked to people. I showed up. I survived. I even smiled.

Art, it turns out (again and again), is my medicine 💊💖.
When I create, my nervous system settles.
When I create, the noise quiets.
When I create, I remember who I am.

I like to think you’d understand that.

I’m standing now on the edge of what I’m calling my own second act 🎭🌱.
The vision is clear. The ideas are alive.
I just need a few earthly things — costumes 👗, housing 🏠, stability 🌈 — and then… watch out world.

You remind me that it’s never too late.
That rejection doesn’t mean failure.
That being called eccentric, difficult, or strange is often just another way of saying truthful.

You painted anyway.
So I will too.

Thank you, Emily, for blazing a crooked, forest-lined trail 🌲🔥.
Thank you for reminding me that persistence is a form of love.
Thank you for proving that art doesn’t need permission to exist.

Happy Birthday, dear Emily 🎂🎨
I’ll keep going — for you, for me, for all of us still finding our way.

With paint on my hands and courage in my heart 💚🖌️
Tina / Zipolita
Emily’s 2nd Act

Emily Carr and the War Years: Life in Victoria During WWI

 🌺 Emily Carr and the War Years: Life in Victoria During WWI

November 11th — Armistice Day, now known as Remembrance Day — always invites us to pause, to listen to the echoes of another time. While the world marks the end of the Great War in 1918, I’ve been reflecting on what life was like here on the West Coast — especially through the eyes of Emily Carr, our beloved artist and storyteller.

Emily was born in 1871, so when the First World War began in 1914, she was already in her forties — not a young painter starting out, but a woman who had lived through disappointment, frustration, and fierce independence.

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🏠 The House of All Sorts

By 1913, Emily had returned to Victoria from her travels to Indigenous villages along the coast. Full of vision and courage, she opened a boarding house on Simcoe Street — a place she called “The House of All Sorts.”

What she hoped would bring financial stability soon became a daily battle. Tenants came and went. Repairs piled up. Emily scrubbed, mended, cooked, and hauled water until her body ached. She was a woman trying to stay afloat in a world that didn’t yet value her art or her spirit.

Yet through the weariness, she kept a small corner of her soul reserved for painting — sometimes just quick sketches, sometimes notes for ideas she’d revisit years later.

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🐕 The Dog Years

After the war years, Emily shifted again — this time into raising dogs, particularly Old English Sheepdogs. She became one of the top breeders in Canada, showing her dogs and even writing about them.

Between the chores, the noise, and the care of over 300 dogs, painting seemed far away — yet these years built the resilience and observation that would later burst out in her art.

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🕊️ Victoria During the Great War

Life in Victoria between 1914 and 1918 was complex — a blend of patriotism, anxiety, and the quiet endurance of an isolated city.

• ⚓ Esquimalt Naval Base buzzed with military activity, and ships came and went loaded with men, goods, and hope.
• 🎖️ Families gathered for fundraising teas, parades, and knitting circles, sending parcels overseas.
• 🍞 Rationing affected daily life: sugar, flour, and butter became scarce, and gardens became essential.
• 🦠 By 1918, the Spanish Flu struck Vancouver Island hard, closing schools and churches, claiming thousands of lives just as peace was declared.

Victoria, known for being “more British than Britain,” was both elegant and constrained — corsets, tea times, and strict manners — but also starting to soften. The war, loss, and distance changed people. Women took on new roles; society began to shift.

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🎨 Emily’s Spirit Through It All

While Emily wasn’t painting her great forest works yet, her artistic soul never slept. She wrote later about that time as one of struggle and self-reliance — years that tested her courage.

Her art, when it finally re-emerged in the 1920s, carried the power of survival. You can see the echoes of the war years in her brushstrokes — the loneliness, the endurance, the strength of roots and trees that weather every storm. 🌲

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❤️ Then and Now

As we stand here today, on Remembrance Day, we think of Emily and the world she lived in — a world shaken by war, yet full of quiet acts of bravery.

Much has changed — no gas lamps, no ration books, no horses in the streets — and yet, some things feel the same. We’re still learning how to care for each other, how to rebuild, how to honour sacrifice and hold compassion in our daily lives.

Emily’s life reminds us that art, perseverance, and empathy are forms of remembrance too.

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🌺 “May we remember not just the soldiers, but the artists, mothers, teachers, and dreamers who kept the spirit of humanity alive.”

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#EmilyCarr #RemembranceDay #WWI #VictoriaBC #CanadianArt #WomensHistory #HouseOfAllSorts #BCHistory #ArtAndResilience #ArmisticeDay #zipolita #Emilys2ndAct

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Seaforth Peace Park-Next Week!!

🎨 MEXICO OR BUST! 🌞

👩‍🎨 Hi everyone! I’m Tina Winterlik (aka Zipolita), and I also play Emily's 2nd Act! Next week, the weather looks amazing, and I’ll be painting in Seaforth Peace Park ✌️.

Please come by, say hello, and check out my paintings 🧜🌈🖼️🎨🖌️. Your support helps me raise funds to follow my dream journey to Mexico!

💖 My Dream Journey:

• ✈️ Fly into Cancún
• 🚆 Take the new Maya Tren to Palenque
• 🦋 See the Monarch Butterflies in November
• 💀 Celebrate Día de Muertos in Zipolite — Oct 26, 27, 28 🎉
• 🌺 This year’s celebration in Zipolite will be incredible — artists, musicians & dreamers from everywhere are invited to share their talents for a grand festival of life & remembrance. 🌊✨

Can’t wait to see you at Seaforth Peace Park next week! 💕

Tina Winterlik at 4:45 AM

Missing In Action

 Hey kids, sorry for no posts but I have been busy. I am couchsurfing and painting murals, cleaning friends houses and riding my bike and walking the beach, so living the good life for most part. Easter was nice and the cherry blossoms have been heavenly. Always lovely time of year to be outside a lot. 

We had an election. It was a big deal and a great win for democracy, human rights and praying good things happen for all of us.

I have been painting murals, that's great fun. I met a teacher last week and she wants to help so maybe we can do something with kids. That would be fun

Ok touch base soon. Still working on costume design.

I will post my Adventurez soon. Stay Tuned!

Honoring Anna Banana

 Honoring Anna Banana🍌: A Creative Walk🖌️🎨 & Picnic in Vancouver

Have you ever heard of Anna Banana? She was a legendary artist in Vancouver’s art scene, known for her playful and rebellious approach to art. In 1973, she made her mark by walking to the Vancouver Art Gallery with a banana, fully embracing absurdity and creativity in a way that challenged the seriousness of the art world.

Anna was a pioneer of mail art, performance art, and conceptual art, always finding ways to engage the public in artistic expression. Her work was joyful, unexpected, and deeply inspiring. She reminded us that art is not just for galleries—it’s for the streets, for everyday life, and for everyone.

Inspired by her spirit, I’ve been thinking… Why not do something similar?

A Creative Picnic & Art Walk!

I’d love to invite fellow artists, creatives, and free spirits to gather in the Peace Park for a picnic, then walk together to the Vancouver Art Gallery, just like Anna did. But let’s add our own twist:

• Bring a banana 🍌 (of course!)
• Bring a piece of your art 🎨—whatever you love to create, whether it’s a small painting, a poem, a handmade craft, or a sketchbook.
• Let’s make it fun and spontaneous! Maybe we share art, trade pieces, or even leave a few surprises for strangers to find along the way.

This isn’t about making a statement—it’s about celebrating joy, art, and community. It’s about reclaiming public space for creativity and honoring the artists who paved the way for unconventional expression.

Would you be interested in joining? Let me know in the comments, or message me if you have ideas to make this even better!

Let’s go bananas for art—Anna would approve!

#ArtForEveryone #VancouverCreatives #AnnaBanana #PeaceParkPicnic #BananaArtWalk

Emily Carr’s Family Mystery

 Emily Carr’s Family Mystery: Why Did Her Sisters Never Marry?

Emily Carr is celebrated as one of Canada’s most iconic artists, known for her vivid paintings of British Columbia’s landscapes and Indigenous cultures. But beyond her art, her family history holds some fascinating mysteries—ones that might still be uncovered today.

A Household of Unmarried Women

Emily was one of nine siblings, but only one sister, Clara, ever married—a striking fact for a Victorian-era family. Even more unusual? Clara’s husband abandoned her, and none of the other sisters ever wed. Why?

Victorian society placed huge pressure on women to marry, especially in religious, middle-class families like the Carrs. Had their parents lived longer, they likely would have arranged or strongly encouraged marriages for all their daughters. But after their mother passed in 1886 and their father in 1888, the Carr sisters were left to make their own choices—and they chose each other over marriage.

Perhaps Clara’s failed marriage soured the idea of relationships for her sisters. Or maybe they valued their independence and bond as sisters too much to trade it for the constraints of married life.

Emily’s Rebellion and Lifelong Independence

Emily, always the rebel of the family, didn’t just reject marriage—she rejected Victorian expectations entirely. She was passionate about nature, Indigenous culture, and art, and she spent much of her life pursuing her creative vision, even when it meant financial hardship and social isolation.

Could her independent streak have been influenced by her sisters’ choices? It’s possible. Without marriage as an expectation, Emily was freer to dedicate her life to art, despite the struggles she faced as a female artist in Canada at the time.

A DNA Mystery Waiting to Be Solved?

Another intriguing element of Emily Carr’s story is her ancestry, particularly on her mother’s side. Her mother, Emily Saunders, may have been born out of wedlock in England, raised by adoptive or foster parents. If true, this means Emily Carr’s maternal lineage might be more mysterious than previously thought.

Today’s DNA technology could help unravel these family mysteries. If a descendant of Clara Carr’s children were to take a genealogy DNA test, we could gain insights into Emily’s ethnic heritage, deep ancestry, and even possible unknown relatives.

So far, no known Carr descendant has publicly shared DNA results—but wouldn’t it be fascinating if they did?

What Do You Think?

Emily Carr’s story is filled with unanswered questions. Why did her sisters choose to remain unmarried? What secrets might DNA testing reveal about her ancestry? Could modern genealogy help us understand her family’s past in ways history never could?

If you’re as curious as I am, share your thoughts! And if you know of any Carr family descendants interested in genealogy, maybe they hold the missing piece to this fascinating puzzle.

Finding Hannah Maynard – A Forgotten Pioneer & a Personal Discovery

#FightBackWithArt

#WarriorUpWithArt

📷🚲🤗🎨🖌️✍️📘🔥😎🌟

Happy International Women's Day 

Finding Hannah Maynard – A Forgotten Pioneer & a Personal Discovery

Introduction
Photography has the power to connect us across generations. Sometimes, it even brings unexpected discoveries—like when I recently learned about Hannah Maynard, a trailblazing photographer who ran a studio in Victoria, BC, from 1862 to the early 1900s. Despite studying professional photography at Langara College, I had never heard of her until the Royal BC Museum shared an Instagram story about her.

Her work is now inspiring me to take a deeper look at my own family history. It turns out my great-great-grandfather arrived in BC in 1862, the same year Maynard opened her studio—a strange coincidence that makes me wonder if our paths (or at least our family stories) have crossed before.

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Hannah Maynard: The Woman Who Defied Photography Norms

Hannah Maynard wasn’t just a portrait photographer—she was a creative force ahead of her time.

• She experimented with surreal techniques like multiple exposures and photomontages long before Photoshop existed.
• She took self-portraits that challenged Victorian conventions—including one of her riding a bike in the 1890s.
• She photographed Indigenous communities, though her work must be examined in the context of colonial documentation.

Maynard ran her Victoria studio for over 50 years—a remarkable achievement for a woman in the 19th century. And yet, I never learned about her in photography school.

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A Personal Connection: A Mourning Portrait in My Family Archive?

After discovering Maynard’s story, I started thinking about an old family photo of my great-great-grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-grandmother. My mother once thought it was a wedding portrait, but my great-grandmother is dressed entirely in black—which now makes me wonder if it was actually a mourning photo.

In the early 1900s, mourning photography was a common practice. Families dressed in black, posed formally, and sometimes included symbolic objects to honor lost loved ones. My great-great-grandfather kept a diary listing multiple family losses, which adds another layer of mystery. If the photo was taken in Victoria before 1915, there’s even a chance it could have been taken by Maynard’s studio or a photographer influenced by her style.

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Lost History & The Transition from Film to Digital

This discovery also makes me reflect on my time at Langara College in 1995. I was part of one of the last classes to transition from film to digital, and I remember how difficult it was to leave the darkroom behind. Two of my instructors retired shortly after our program ended, and while they passed on incredible technical skills, I now realize there were huge gaps in what we were taught.

No one mentioned Hannah Maynard—a local, groundbreaking woman photographer—and that’s a shame because I know she would have inspired me deeply.

Photography has always been about change. The switch from film to digital in the ‘90s echoes the way Maynard pushed the boundaries of photography in her time. She didn’t just take portraits—she experimented, innovated, and created images that still feel modern today.

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Are My Ancestors Helping Me Piece This Together?

It feels like my ancestors are nudging me to put the pieces together.

• 1862: Maynard opened her photography studio in Victoria. My great-great-grandfather arrived in BC the same year.
• 1915 or earlier: A mysterious family portrait may actually be a mourning photo.
• 1995: I was in one of the last Langara photography classes to use film, unaware of Maynard’s legacy.
• 2024: The Royal BC Museum’s Instagram story led me to this discovery.

This journey reminds me that history isn’t just something we read about—it’s something we carry with us, sometimes without even realizing it. Maybe my ancestors are freaking out (in a good way!), trying to guide me toward a deeper understanding of my own family’s past.

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Final Thoughts: Let’s Bring Maynard’s Story Back

Hannah Maynard deserves more recognition. She wasn’t just a photographer—she was an artist, innovator, and entrepreneur who defied expectations in a male-dominated field.

If you’re a photographer, history lover, or someone who believes in preserving women’s contributions to art, I encourage you to explore her work. Her photographs are housed at the Royal BC Museum, BC Archives, and Library and Archives Canada. Some may even be in the public domain, available for sharing.

I’m still on a journey to uncover the truth behind my family’s old photos. Maybe one day, I’ll discover a connection to Maynard’s studio. But even if I don’t, I know one thing for sure:
Her story—just like our own family histories—deserves to be remembered.

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Want to Learn More?

• Royal BC Museum: https://www.royalbcmuseum.bc.ca
• BC Archives
• Library and Archives Canada

Emily’s Strength, Our Strength – Warrior Up with Art

 Reading about Emily Carr, I feel an overwhelming connection to her struggles. She faced immense obstacles—what happened between her and her father is shrouded in mystery, but abuse seems likely. Rejected by her mother and sisters, she was cast out, not just for her art but for refusing to conform. Marriage was the expected path, yet she chose another, one that forced her to survive on her own terms—a feat that must have felt impossible then, just as it does now.

Art wasn’t saleable in her time, just as many of us struggle to sell ours today. Oh, hers is now—commodified, celebrated—but in her lifetime, she endured rejection after rejection. And yet, she persisted.

Emily lived in the same town as my great-great-grandparents, buried in the same graveyard. My Songhees great-great-grandmother must have faced unfathomable challenges. My great-grandfather’s diary hints at the hardships he endured—but for her, an Indigenous woman in a colonial world, the struggle must have been heartbreaking. And it’s still happening. The patriarchy still rules, still tries to force us into submission. Yet we are POWERFUL. We give birth, create life, nurture life, and still, so many women face homelessness, poverty, and exile for refusing to bow to male dominance.

Emily survived. My great-great-grandmother, though she only lived to 50, raised and imprinted a strong son. Because of them, I am here. Because of them, I must fight.

We are entering a time of great uncertainty—where men like Trump, Musk, and others are openly discussing the annexation of Canada, the erasure of our autonomy. Emily lived through two world wars and the Great Depression. My mother survived the Great Depression and WWII. Now, we must draw on that same strength. We will be called eccentric, crazy, hysterical—but so was Emily. And still, she painted.

Now more than ever, we must fight back with art. We must warrior up with art. This is the battle of our lives, and we must spread the message in every way we can. Smash the patriarchy. Restore balance. Like the Iroquois Confederacy once did, like Helen Reddy sang—

I am Woman. Hear me ROAR.

Exploring Emily Carr’s Books: The Book of Small and Klee Wyck—A Personal Connection

 

As I continue to research Emily Carr and dive into her books, The Book of Small and Klee Wyck, I can’t help but feel a deeper connection to her work. I haven’t read these books yet, but I’m very curious about them—especially as I learn more about my own family’s history and their connection to the land and people Carr described.

My great-great-grandfather, John Enos (João Ignacio d’Almada), arrived from the Azores in 1862 and settled in Nanoose Bay with his Songhees wife, Eliza Theresa. They had a son, Joseph, who grew up there. Tragically, Eliza passed away when Joseph was only 14. He kept a diary, which I’ve been exploring, and it’s making me wonder if there could be a connection between my family and Emily Carr’s work. Joseph later married Mary Ann Poirier, and they had six children, one of whom, my grandfather, moved to Vancouver. My grandmother, who came from Sweden when she was two, would marry him.

Emily Carr was born in 1871, and she would have been around 60 years old when my mother was born in 1930. It's incredible to think about how her experiences, and the events she lived through, may have overlapped with those of my family.

Another interesting part of this connection is that Emily Carr is buried in the same cemetery as my great-grandparents, Ross Bay Cemetery in Victoria. As I read The Book of Small and Klee Wyck, I can’t help but wonder whether Emily Carr and my family members ever crossed paths or knew each other, given their shared location and time period.

In The Book of Small, Emily reflects on her childhood in Victoria, BC, and on the connections she had with the world around her. I’m intrigued by the idea that my ancestors could have been part of that same community, experiencing life in the same town. Meanwhile, in Klee Wyck, her observations of the Indigenous peoples along the West Coast make me wonder whether she might have crossed paths with the Songhees people, with whom my great-great-grandfather’s family had ties.

I’m eager to dive into these books and see if any of Emily Carr’s experiences overlap with my family’s history, and I can’t help but wonder how these two worlds—Carr’s art and my ancestors’ stories—intertwined.

Have you read The Book of Small or Klee Wyck? I’d love to hear your thoughts and any personal connections you might have with Emily Carr’s work!

Discovering Emily Carr’s Growing Pains

 

I haven’t read Growing Pains: The Autobiography of Emily Carr yet, but as I research her life and work, I’m learning just how fascinating and resilient she was. Emily Carr was more than just a painter—she was a writer, a traveler, and a woman who defied expectations at a time when female artists were often overlooked.

Published posthumously in 1946, Growing Pains tells the story of Carr’s life from her childhood in Victoria, BC, to her struggles as an artist and her deep connection with the Indigenous cultures of the West Coast. She traveled extensively, studying art in San Francisco, England, and France, each experience shaping her unique style. Her love for nature and her appreciation of Indigenous art set her apart from many of her contemporaries.

As I research more about Carr, I’ve come across some of her quotes that really resonate with me:

"There is something bigger than fact: the underlying spirit, all it stands for, the mood, the vastness, the wildness."

"It is wonderful to feel the grandness of Canada in the raw, not because she is Canada but because she’s something sublime that you were born into, some great rugged power that you are part of."

"Art is art, nature is nature, you cannot improve upon it... Pictures should be inspired by nature, but made in the soul of the artist; it is the soul of the individual that counts."

These words reveal not just her artistic philosophy but her deep reverence for the land and the Indigenous cultures she painted. Her work was ahead of its time, and it wasn’t until later in life that she gained recognition for her contributions to Canadian art.

I’m looking forward to reading Growing Pains and exploring more of Carr’s writing. Have you read it? What do you think of her story and perspective?

Standing Up for Emily Carr: Uncovering the Truth Behind Her Struggles

 

Why I Feel Responsible to Speak for Emily

Emily Carr was not just an eccentric artist or a misunderstood woman—she was a visionary who faced immense challenges, many of which have been misrepresented or outright ignored. Reading through historical accounts of her life, I feel a deep sense of responsibility to challenge the dismissive and sometimes cruel way she has been portrayed. She was labeled as a "nutcake," "hysterical," and "odd," but what if the truth is much deeper? What if her suffering wasn’t just emotional or psychological but also physical—exacerbated by toxic exposure, grief, and the sheer hardship of being a woman in a world that refused to take her seriously?

I want to find and share the truth.

Re-examining Emily’s Health: Was It More Than ‘Hysteria’?

Too often, Emily’s struggles have been chalked up to "eccentricity" or "mental instability," but few people ask: What if her health issues were caused by her environment, her materials, and the lack of understanding about toxic exposure in her time?

We now know that many of the paints and solvents artists used in the late 19th and early 20th centuries were highly toxic. Lead-based paints, turpentine, gasoline, and arsenic-laced pigments were common. It was routine for artists to thin their paints and clean their brushes with gasoline or turpentine, often using their bare hands. Did Emily do this? Almost certainly.

In my own experience as a photographer at Langara College, I made the mistake of handling chemicals without gloves early on. But then I read a book called Overexposed—about a photographer who developed a lump on his neck due to prolonged chemical exposure—and it was a wake-up call. I became much more careful, but Emily wouldn't have had that knowledge. She would have been exposing herself daily, possibly leading to chronic health problems that people in her time dismissed as “nervousness” or “hysteria.”

The Silent Poisoning of an Artist

Consider this: Emily spent time in a sanatorium, where she was likely exposed to fresh paint fumes. What kind of paint was used? For decades, “Scheele’s Green” and “Paris Green” were popular pigments—both of which contained arsenic. If the walls were painted with these or other lead-based paints, she could have been breathing in toxins that worsened her condition.

We also know that gasoline fumes and turpentine exposure can lead to neurological damage, chronic fatigue, and respiratory issues. Combine that with a lifetime of financial stress, emotional grief, and isolation, and it's no wonder her health suffered. But instead of acknowledging these possibilities, history has largely dismissed her struggles as part of her "odd" personality.

The Weight of Grief and Isolation

On top of the physical hazards, Emily endured profound grief and loss. By the time she was 17, both of her parents had died, leaving her in the care of deeply religious older sisters who tried to control her. She was forced into a life that didn’t fit her spirit, and her independent nature was constantly challenged by a society that didn't value women as serious artists.

She lived much of her life in poverty, often retreating to the woods not just for inspiration, but because she had no choice. Renting was out of reach for much of her life, and she had to rely on unconventional means—like running a boarding house and breeding dogs—to survive.

Rewriting the Narrative

The way Emily Carr has been written about for decades is not just inaccurate—it’s unfair. Instead of calling her "hysterical," "eccentric," or "difficult," we should recognize her as:

A woman who defied the constraints of her time.

An artist who worked with hazardous materials that likely impacted her health.

A person who suffered immense grief and hardship, yet still created beauty.

A visionary who saw beyond the limitations imposed on her.

We owe it to Emily to tell the full story—to acknowledge the realities she faced and not reduce her to an outdated stereotype. She was not "crazy." She was a survivor. She was a pioneer. And she deserves to be remembered with truth and dignity.

I feel responsible to stand up for her because too many voices like hers have been erased, dismissed, or misunderstood. It’s time we look at history through a more compassionate, informed lens and give Emily the respect she has always deserved.

What do you think? Have you ever reconsidered how history has portrayed certain figures? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let's keep this conversation going.

Indigenous artists whose work reclaims their cultural narratives and offers perspectives distinct from Emily Carr's interpretations

 

1. Robert Davidson (Haida)

A master sculptor, painter, and printmaker, Robert Davidson is renowned for his contemporary interpretations of Haida art. His works, such as "Raven Bringing Light to the World," blend traditional Haida formline with modern aesthetics, emphasizing the vibrancy and resilience of Indigenous culture.

2. Bill Reid (Haida)

Bill Reid played a pivotal role in the resurgence of Haida art in the 20th century. His iconic sculptures, like "Haida Dog Salmon - Skaagi," showcase the depth and complexity of Haida mythology and artistry. The Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coast Art in Vancouver is dedicated to his legacy and features a comprehensive collection of his works.

3. Sonny Assu (Kwakwaka'wakw)

Sonny Assu's art challenges colonial narratives by juxtaposing traditional Indigenous motifs with contemporary pop culture. His series "Interventions on the Imaginary" overlays traditional formline designs onto Emily Carr's paintings, prompting discussions on cultural appropriation and representation.

4. Christi Belcourt (Métis)

Christi Belcourt is celebrated for her intricate paintings that emulate traditional Métis beadwork. Her art often addresses themes of environmental stewardship and Indigenous rights, reflecting a deep connection to nature and community.

5. Kent Monkman (Cree)

Kent Monkman reimagines historical narratives through a critical Indigenous lens. His alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, features in works that subvert colonial depictions of Indigenous peoples, offering commentary on history, sexuality, and identity.

6. Rebecca Belmore (Anishinaabe)

Rebecca Belmore's multidisciplinary art confronts issues of colonialism, displacement, and resilience. Her installations and performances, such as the commissioned sculpture at The Polygon Gallery, evoke powerful reflections on Indigenous experiences and histories.

Exploring Indigenous Art in Vancouver

Vancouver offers several venues where you can immerse yourself in Indigenous art and culture:

• Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coast Art: Located in downtown Vancouver, this gallery showcases contemporary Indigenous art of the Northwest Coast, including rotating exhibitions and educational programs.

• Museum of Anthropology (MOA) at UBC: Home to an extensive collection of Indigenous artifacts and artworks, MOA provides insights into the diverse cultures of Indigenous peoples from the Northwest Coast and beyond.

• Coastal Peoples Fine Arts Gallery: This gallery features a curated selection of contemporary Indigenous art, including sculptures, jewelry, and paintings by established and emerging artists.

Engaging with the works of these artists and visiting these venues offers a deeper understanding of Indigenous perspectives and artistic expressions, fostering a more inclusive appreciation of Canada's cultural landscape.

Why These Artists Matter Today

 Here are some Indigenous artists whose work reclaims their own cultural narratives and challenges the colonial gaze, including responses to Emily Carr’s legacy.

Haida & Northwest Coast Artists

1. Robert Davidson (Haida)

A world-renowned master carver and painter who has revitalized traditional Haida art.

His work blends traditional Haida formline with modern artistic approaches.

He has spoken about Carr’s role in documenting Haida art but emphasizes that Haida artists are the true inheritors of their traditions.

2. Bill Reid (Haida)

One of Canada’s most famous Indigenous artists, known for his large-scale sculptures like The Spirit of Haida Gwaii.

He redefined Haida art in a contemporary context, proving Indigenous culture is thriving, not "vanishing."

3. Sonny Assu (Kwakwaka’wakw)

He directly critiques Emily Carr’s work by layering traditional formline over Carr’s paintings in works like Interventions on the Imaginary.

His work challenges the romanticized colonial view of Indigenous cultures and reclaims Indigenous artistic presence.

Artists from Other Nations Across Canada

4. Christi Belcourt (Métis)

Known for her stunning paintings inspired by Métis beadwork and environmental activism.

Her work is deeply tied to Indigenous land rights and cultural resilience.

5. Kent Monkman (Cree)

Famous for his alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, who appears in paintings that subvert colonial history.

He reimagines iconic Canadian imagery (like Carr’s or the Group of Seven’s paintings) by inserting Indigenous perspectives.

6. Rebecca Belmore (Anishinaabe)

A performance and installation artist whose work confronts colonial violence, including the erasure of Indigenous voices in art and history.

Her sculptures and performances reclaim Indigenous presence in public spaces.

Why These Artists Matter Today

These artists challenge the idea that Indigenous culture is something from the past.

They bring Indigenous perspectives to the forefront, rather than being interpreted by settlers.

Many of them directly engage with the legacy of Emily Carr, either by critiquing or reinterpreting her work.

Asking AI about Emily Carr for cultural appropriation

 

Yes, some Indigenous artists and scholars have criticized Emily Carr for cultural appropriation and the way she depicted Indigenous art and communities. While she is widely recognized for documenting Indigenous totem poles and villages, the debate revolves around issues of representation, ownership, and her role as a settler artist in interpreting Indigenous culture.

Why Some Indigenous Artists Criticize Emily Carr

1. Cultural Appropriation & Colonial Gaze

   • Carr was deeply influenced by Indigenous art, particularly the totem poles and village sites of the Haida, Gitxsan, and other First Nations.
   • However, she was an outsider interpreting these cultural symbols through her own artistic and European modernist lens. Some Indigenous artists argue that she took inspiration from their traditions without fully understanding their meanings.
   • Unlike Indigenous artists, she did not grow up within the cultures she painted, and her work often removed context, spirituality, and personal connection to the land and symbols.

2. Depiction of Vanishing Culture

   • Carr’s work sometimes reflected the colonial belief that Indigenous culture was "dying out."
   • In reality, Indigenous communities were being actively suppressed by government policies like the Potlatch Ban (1885–1951) and residential schools, yet they were still resilient and adapting.
   • Some critics argue that Carr's romanticized paintings, while well-intentioned, contributed to this narrative of Indigenous cultures as relics rather than living traditions.

3. Lack of Indigenous Recognition

   • While she was inspired by Indigenous art, she did not actively collaborate with Indigenous artists or credit them as artistic peers.
   • Many Indigenous artists of her time were banned from selling their work or practicing their traditions due to colonial policies, while Carr gained recognition for depicting those same traditions.

Indigenous Artists’ Perspectives

• Haida artist Robert Davidson has acknowledged Carr’s technical skill but has pointed out that Indigenous art should be recognized for itself, rather than through the lens of settler interpretations.
• Kwakwaka’wakw artist Sonny Assu has recontextualized Carr’s work in his own art to highlight colonial appropriation.
• Other Indigenous scholars argue that Carr’s paintings, while valuable as historical records, should not overshadow the voices and works of Indigenous artists themselves.

Balancing Carr’s Legacy

While Carr’s work brought attention to Indigenous art and landscapes, the discussion today focuses on shifting the spotlight to Indigenous artists who tell their own stories. Museums and galleries are now more conscious of including Indigenous voices alongside Carr’s work to provide a fuller picture of the artistic and cultural history she depicted.

Asking AI about Race Riots in Vancouver

 The most well-known race riot in Vancouver's history was the Anti-Asian Riot of 1907, organized by the Asiatic Exclusion League (AEL). It targeted the city's Chinese and Japanese communities, fueled by anti-immigrant sentiment, economic fears, and racism.

The 1907 Race Riot in Vancouver

On September 7, 1907, a large crowd, incited by inflammatory speeches at an AEL rally, marched through Vancouver’s Chinatown and Japantown.

They smashed windows, looted businesses, and vandalized homes.

In Chinatown, many Chinese residents fled in fear as their shops were destroyed.

Japantown residents, many of whom were fishermen and martial artists, fought back, successfully defending their neighborhood.

The riot was part of a broader wave of anti-Asian sentiment in Canada and the U.S. at the time, leading to further immigration restrictions, such as the Gentlemen’s Agreement of 1908, which limited Japanese immigration.

Did Emily Carr Talk About the Race Riots?

Emily Carr lived in Victoria and Vancouver during this time and witnessed racial tensions. While she did not focus on the 1907 riot specifically, she did write about her observations of Indigenous and Asian communities.

In Growing Pains, she describes her fascination with different cultures but also reflects some of the racial biases of her time.

She acknowledged the discrimination faced by Indigenous peoples and, to some extent, Chinese immigrants.

However, she was more focused on art and her personal struggles than on political activism.

If you're interested in deeper historical context, I can check for more references to Emily Carr’s views on race relations. Would that help?

Asking AI about Prohibition

 

Prohibition in Vancouver (and British Columbia as a whole) lasted from 1917 to 1921. It was introduced as part of the larger temperance movement and was driven by concerns over public morality, crime, and social order. However, it was short-lived because of widespread smuggling, bootlegging, and government realization that regulating and taxing alcohol was more practical than outright banning it. By 1921, BC replaced prohibition with a government-controlled liquor distribution system.

Did Emily Carr Talk About Prohibition?

Emily Carr lived through the prohibition era in BC, but she did not focus on it extensively in her writings or artwork. Her memoirs, such as Growing Pains: The Autobiography of Emily Carr, mainly discuss her struggles as an artist, her travels, and her observations of Indigenous communities rather than political or social issues like prohibition. However, she did write about the changing nature of Victoria and Vancouver, including her frustrations with societal norms and restrictions, which may have indirectly touched on the atmosphere of the time.

If you're interested in a more specific reference, I could look up any mentions of prohibition in her writings. Would you like that?

Land Acknowledgment

 Emily’s 2nd Act is created on the unceded, ancestral, and traditional territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səl̓ilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations.

We recognize that these lands have been home to Indigenous peoples since time immemorial, and we honor their resilience, wisdom, and deep connection to the land. As we move forward, we commit to learning, listening, and supporting Indigenous communities in meaningful ways.

We invite you to reflect on the lands you occupy and how we can all work toward truth, reconciliation, and justice.

Me- Emily's 2nd Act- Cosplay- Victorian

 

It's me, pretending to be Emily Carr, so that I can be a STREET PERFORMER and tease the tourists  Ha!! Ha!! 

In a fun way, I had so much fun with the tourists at Granville Island a few years back and I  have worked on the Cruiseships and as a Santa Photographer so I think we can all have a lot of fun!! Let's CELEBRATE EMILY!!!

I thinks she's ok with it, I only want to celebrate her and her brave wild artistic spirit that must have been so hard back then. Emily Carr Lived from 1871 - 1945, she lived through 2 wars and both parent passed by time she was 17, so must have been terribly difficult. Poor Emily.

Me- Emily's 2nd Act

CITY REFLECTIONS: VANCOUVER 1907 | 2007

This is SUPER COOL, it mentions where Emily Carr lived in Vancouver when she was 37. 13:33

Emily Carr

 Emily Carr was a trailblazing artist who pushed against the constraints of her time. Born in 1871, she was raised in a strict, often oppressive environment, where her relationships with her father and sisters were strained. Her rebellious nature seemed to be a direct reaction to the control and limitations placed on her. Often seen as the family’s outcast, Emily was misunderstood by those closest to her, but she remained true to herself, eventually becoming one of Canada’s most renowned artists.

From an early age, Emily faced pressure from both her family and societal expectations. Her father, a dominant figure in the household, often tried to instill fear in her with unsettling stories, hoping to force her into submission. When Emily didn’t follow his chosen path for her, he even severed ties by excluding her from his will. These painful experiences clearly influenced her later works, which often reflect her deep connection to her own strength and individuality.

Despite the difficulties at home, Emily found peace and inspiration in nature and the arts. Her love for the outdoors took her to the Nuu-chah-nulth people, Indigenous inhabitants of Vancouver Island, who warmly embraced her. They affectionately called her "the laughing one," a nod to her free-spirited and kind personality. This relationship with the Nuu-chah-nulth would profoundly shape her art, which often featured vibrant portrayals of the Pacific Northwest's coastal landscapes, totem poles, and wildlife.

Emily’s artistic development was further shaped by her travels to Europe, where she honed her craft and explored various art movements. Practical and independent, she often journeyed across the country by coach, possibly due to financial constraints but also because she cherished the simplicity of traveling and experiencing the world firsthand—much like how I’ve traveled through Mexico on buses, immersing myself in the culture and scenery while living on a budget.

Her work, particularly her iconic depictions of totem poles and the natural world, left an indelible mark on Canadian art. Although her genius was not fully recognized during her lifetime, her legacy endures as a testament to her determination and artistic vision.

Her story resonates with me deeply, as it reflects themes of resilience, rebellion, and creative passion—elements of my own journey. Like Emily, I’ve faced the weight of family expectations and the feeling of being misunderstood. But, like her, I’ve found freedom through creativity—whether through photography, murals, or painting. It has taken me years to reconnect with my artistic roots, much as Emily continued to evolve as an artist throughout her life.

Attribution:
“Blunden Harbour Totems” by Emily Carr.
Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Emily Carr Info

https://www.carrhouse.org/the-life-of-emily-carr

https://www.carrhouse.org/about-carr-house

https://www.carrhouse.org/truth-and-reconciliation-day

Emily Carr (December 13, 1871 – March 2, 1945) was a Canadian artist who was inspired by the monumental art and villages of the First Nations and the landscapes of British Columbia.^[1] She also was a vivid writer and chronicler of life in her surroundings, praised for her "complete candour" and "strong prose".^[2] Klee Wyck, her first book, published in 1941, won the Governor General's Literary Award for non-fiction^[3] and this book and others written by her or compiled from her writings later are still much in demand today.

Carr's keynote paintings, such as The Indian Church (1929), were not widely known in Canada at first. But her stature as one of Canada's most important artists continued to grow. Today, she is considered a cherished figure of Canadian arts and letters.^[4] Scholars and the public alike regard her as a Canadian national treasure^[5] and the Canadian Encyclopedia describes her as a Canadian icon.^[6] She has been designated a National Historic Person^[7] and had a Minor planet 5688 Kleewyck named after her anglicized native name.^[8][4][5] As one scholar in her 2014 book on Carr, put it, "we love her and she continues to speak to us".^[9]

Emily Carr lived most of her life in the city in which she was born and died, Victoria, British Columbia.

Read more here

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Carr#:~:text=She%20suffered%20her%20last%20heart,buried%20at%20Ross%20Bay%20Cemetery.

Emily in Forest

 

🖼️ Forest Scene by Emily Carr (c. 1935)
Source: Wikimedia Commons
Public Domain

Emily Carr, Indigenous Art, and Cultural Appropriation: A Complex Legacy

Emily Carr is widely recognized for her stunning depictions of British Columbia’s landscapes and First Nations totem poles. However, in today’s world, her work also raises important questions about cultural appropriation and the representation of Indigenous art by non-Indigenous creators. While Carr admired Indigenous culture and saw herself as preserving its beauty, we must now ask: Was she honoring Indigenous traditions, or was she profiting from them without proper recognition of their origins?

Carr’s Connection to Indigenous Art

In the early 20th century, Carr traveled extensively to First Nations communities in places like Sechelt, Lytton, Alert Bay, and Campbell River, where she painted totem poles, villages, and the surrounding landscapes. She was inspired by the intricate designs and spiritual depth of Indigenous art, incorporating elements of it into her own work.

At the time, Indigenous communities were facing intense cultural suppression due to colonial policies such as the Potlatch Ban (1885-1951), which criminalized key aspects of their traditions. While Carr’s work brought visibility to Indigenous art, it was filtered through her own interpretations as a non-Indigenous artist, rather than being led by Indigenous voices.

The National Gallery Exhibition and Cultural Appropriation

In 1927, Carr was invited by Eric Brown and Marius Barbeau to exhibit at the National Gallery in Ottawa, where she sent 65 paintings, rugs, and pottery. En route, she met Frederick Varley of the Group of Seven, and her connection with Lawren Harris deeply influenced her artistic direction. However, what is often overlooked is that this exhibition was centered on Indigenous art, yet a non-Indigenous artist was prominently featured.

Carr also designed cover art for works related to Indigenous themes—something that would likely be considered cultural appropriation today. While her intentions may have been respectful, it raises the issue of who gets to represent a culture and whether non-Indigenous artists should be at the forefront of portraying Indigenous traditions.

Then vs. Now: Changing Perspectives

During Carr’s time, Canada was still deeply entrenched in colonial attitudes. Many non-Indigenous artists and ethnographers viewed Indigenous culture as something to be documented rather than as a living, evolving tradition carried forward by Indigenous peoples themselves. Marius Barbeau, for example, played a major role in shaping the perception that Indigenous art was “vanishing,” a harmful narrative that ignored the resilience of Indigenous cultures.

Today, we recognize that Indigenous artists should have control over their own representations. There is now a growing movement for Indigenous-led art, ensuring that cultural traditions are celebrated by those who inherit them rather than by outsiders. Museums, galleries, and collectors are also being challenged to rethink how they exhibit and contextualize Indigenous works.

Moving Forward: A More Inclusive Approach

Emily Carr’s work remains an important part of Canadian art history, but it is essential to view it through a modern lens. Instead of solely celebrating her paintings, we should also use them as a starting point for deeper discussions on representation, cultural respect, and the importance of Indigenous voices in art.

So, how do we engage with Carr’s legacy today?

• Recognizing the Indigenous artists whose work she was inspired by.

• Encouraging platforms that amplify Indigenous voices in contemporary art.

• Understanding the difference between appreciation and appropriation.

What are your thoughts on Emily Carr’s work ?

Self-Portrait

 "This self-portrait of Emily Carr captures her spirit and artistic vision. It feels strangely familiar to me!" 😊

📸 Emily Carr, Self-Portrait (c. 1938)
Source: Wikimedia Commons
Public Domain

Emily Carr’s Klee Wyck: Art, Literature, and the Complexities of Indigenous Representation

Emily Carr is best known for her paintings of British Columbia’s landscapes and Indigenous totem poles, but she was also a writer. In 1941, her first book, Klee Wyck, was published and won the Governor General’s Award for Literary Merit in Non-Fiction. The book, a collection of autobiographical sketches, details her experiences visiting Indigenous communities along the West Coast. While Klee Wyck was widely praised at the time, it raises important questions about Indigenous representation, colonial narratives, and censorship that remain relevant today.

Klee Wyck: A Window into Carr’s Perspective

Carr’s writing in Klee Wyck expresses her deep admiration for Indigenous art and culture, particularly the totem poles and spiritual traditions that influenced her paintings. The title Klee Wyck (meaning "Laughing One") was given to her by the Nuu-chah-nulth people, and the book is filled with descriptions of the people she met, their art, and their way of life.

However, despite her respect for Indigenous culture, Carr’s perspective remains that of an outsider—one shaped by colonial attitudes of the time. Her writing often romanticizes Indigenous people, portraying them as “noble” but fading figures, reinforcing the harmful idea that their cultures were disappearing. This mindset aligns with figures like Marius Barbeau, who promoted the notion that Indigenous art was a relic of the past rather than a living, evolving tradition.

Censorship and the Removal of Indigenous Spirituality

Perhaps even more striking than the book’s original content is what happened to it after publication. In later editions of Klee Wyck, the Canadian government censored sections of the text, removing Carr’s descriptions of Indigenous spirituality and ceremonies. This erasure reflects the broader colonial effort to suppress Indigenous identities and enforce assimilation.

The censorship of Klee Wyck is a clear example of how Indigenous stories were controlled and altered by non-Indigenous institutions. While Carr’s work may have been intended as a tribute, the fact that it was later edited to conform to colonial narratives highlights the ongoing struggle Indigenous communities have faced in preserving their histories and traditions on their own terms.

Klee Wyck in Today’s Context: Appreciation vs. Appropriation

Today, Klee Wyck is read with a more critical lens. While Carr’s observations provide a historical snapshot of Indigenous life in the early 20th century, they also reflect a colonial gaze that appropriates and reinterprets Indigenous experiences without true collaboration or Indigenous voices leading the narrative.

Modern discussions about cultural appropriation and Indigenous self-representation challenge us to ask:

• Who should tell Indigenous stories?
• How can non-Indigenous artists and writers engage respectfully with Indigenous culture?
• What responsibilities do publishers and educators have in framing books like Klee Wyck today?

Moving Forward: Centering Indigenous Voices

Rather than dismiss Klee Wyck entirely, it is important to use it as a conversation starter about how Indigenous cultures were historically represented and misrepresented in Canadian art and literature. Supporting Indigenous authors, artists, and historians is essential to ensuring that Indigenous stories are told from within the communities they represent, rather than through the lens of outsiders.

What are your thoughts on Klee Wyck? Should it still be read in schools and art circles, and if so, how should it be framed? 

Emily Carr

 

Photo Credit: Emily Carr in her studio, 1939.
Photo by Harold Mortimer-Lamb,
via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 2.0).

Emily Carr’s Journeys to First Nations Communities: A Legacy of Art and Understanding

Emily Carr is one of Canada’s most celebrated artists, known for her deep appreciation of Indigenous culture and her breathtaking depictions of British Columbia’s landscapes and totem poles. Throughout her life, she made several journeys to First Nations communities, including Sechelt, Lytton, Hope, Alert Bay, and Campbell River. These trips played a crucial role in shaping her artistic style and her understanding of Indigenous traditions.

Exploring First Nations Culture Through Art

In the early 20th century, Carr was drawn to the rich artistic heritage of Indigenous communities along the West Coast. At a time when colonial policies were suppressing Indigenous culture, she recognized the beauty, significance, and spiritual depth of First Nations art. She traveled extensively, sketching and painting totem poles, villages, and the stunning natural landscapes that surrounded them.

Her paintings from this period, such as Big Raven and Totem and Forest, captured the grandeur and vitality of these communities. Unlike many of her contemporaries, Carr approached her work with admiration and a desire to preserve Indigenous art through her own interpretations.

Teaching and Struggles in Vancouver

When Carr was not traveling, she was based in Vancouver, where she taught art and struggled financially. Her unique style, influenced by Post-Impressionism and Indigenous art, was not widely accepted in Canada at the time. As a result, she found it difficult to make a living as an artist and even took a long hiatus from painting.

However, in the 1920s, Carr’s work finally gained recognition when she connected with the Group of Seven, a well-known collective of Canadian painters. They encouraged her to continue painting and helped her gain the recognition she deserved.

A Lasting Influence

Emily Carr’s journeys to Indigenous communities were not just about painting—they were about understanding, respect, and cultural appreciation. While her work was not without controversy, as she was still an outsider interpreting another culture, she was one of the few non-Indigenous artists of her time who acknowledged the depth and importance of Indigenous art. Today, her paintings stand as a powerful testament to the rich history of First Nations communities in British Columbia.

Her legacy lives on, not only in galleries and museums but also in the ongoing conversations about the representation of Indigenous culture in Canadian art.