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?