Introduce yourself: tell us who you are in a few sentences and give us a little background on your career path thus far.
My name is Alex Jacobs-Blum, I am Lower Cayuga of Six Nations of the Grand River Territory and Euro-Canadian, and a photo-based artist living in Hamilton, ON, Canada. In 2015 I graduated from Sheridan College from the BA Photography program, and currently work as the Assistant Director at an artist-run centre called Centre[3] for Artistic and Social Practice.
For me, photography presents as a way to engage in visual discussions around Indigeneity, reclamation, intergenerational trauma, colonialism etc. Producing work offers the space to confront difficult themes, as well as heal, learn and grow.
What is your earliest memory with photography?
My earliest memory with photography was around 9 years old. My Dad had a 35mm film camera from when he took a photography in college. We tripped to my grandparents trailer in Fesserton, ON, about 2.5 hrs from where we lived, and my Dad showed me how to operate the camera. I used the whole roll of film shooting water lillies. From the moment the images were printed and I saw the results from my trip, I fell deeply in love with the medium. I think I always understood it as a mode of storytelling.
Describe your approach to visual storytelling?
My approach to visual storytelling is through personal narrative and navigating lived experience. My artistic practice has played a key role in the journey of reclaiming my Indigeneity. The process of photographically navigating conversations around identity and belonging have been cathartic for me. Creating the work is reflective and healing.
The goal with my work is to engage audiences in conversations around colonialism, and the many ways it has generationally impacted Indigenous Peoples.
What is one piece of advice you would give to those just starting out or looking to improve their visual storytelling skills?
From my perspective, I would say to someone starting out that building authentic, genuine relationships with people, communities and the land is salient to visual storytelling. Reciprocity is an important teaching I learned through my artistic practice, and recognizing that trust-building, time and respect are also components of a relationship. I am always mindful of being extractive or misrepresenting stories, and ensure consent is a part of my practice.
How did this particular project/body of work come about?
Otgwęj’ia:’ was created when I was doing research about Indigenous and colonial history. At the time, I had learned that my Grandmother attended the Mohawk Institute Residential School on Six Nations, and had no knowledge of what this meant as I grew up outside of the community. But once I started to do the research, I felt a lot of things in my life come into perspective. Through this body of work I seek to address the effects colonialism and intergenerational trauma through a personal visual narrative.
I consider photographically how colonialism succeeded in taking my Indigeneity, homelands, history, and language away from me, and how systems were put in place to assimilate Indigenous Youth. I confront and push back against colonialism within the series, meanwhile, reclaiming my sense of self, my history and Indigeneity. Otgwęj’ia:’ became my thesis project at Sheridan College.
Reflecting back on this project — what were your main learnings? How did this work inform your practice as photographer and identity?
My learnings from the project have been significant teachings for me, and I have carried forward in my life. I am white presenting, live outside of the Six Nations community, and without access to my culture. Growing up, I didn’t feel like I was ‘Indigenous enough’ to claim my Indigeneity. I have learned through this body of work, that blood quantum is a colonial construct, and I am an Indigenous person with my own lived experience. Again, going back to addressing the affects that colonialism impressed upon me. This series started my life-long journey of coming home.
How does this current moment/year impact how you view both yourself as a visual storyteller and the work you’re creating?
This moment has been a very reflective time for me. I recognize that there is still a lot of learning and unlearning for me to do, and I need to give space for knowledge growth. I am also taking time to assess the ways that I am complicit in capitalism and white supremacy and make changes in my life to centre and uplift marginalized voices/ businesses/ artists/ makers. Doing the inner work informs my visual storytelling for the future.
Also during this time, I have also been listening to Elders and Knowledge Carriers speak about the pandemic. They discussed the importance of (re)building relationships with the land, and our collective reponsibility to care for the land and water. They also stressed the importance of slowing down and taking care of ourselves and each other. I am still in a process of building a relationship with the land, and taking time for myself, so these teachings have been vital to my learning and photographic journey.
What has been a specific surprise or challenge of working on these images?
I didn’t realize the impact that this series would have on me, and how many relationships I have built through sharing this body of work. At the time I wasn’t considering how other people could relate to this series. When I started photographing, I felt alone and embarassed about my journey. Once I started exhibiting the work, it was very humbling to have conversations with other people who identified with navigating identity and reclamation.
Pick 2-3 photos from your series to deconstruct: what was happening when you took the shot? Set the scene, what was going through your head?
Onęhgí’ ęgahdédi’ is first image I took for the series. I remember parking my car and looking out at the storefront, and feelings of apprehension and being inauthentic started to arise. It was the first time I was seeing Six Nations through a new lens, and I was very nervous to start the journey. It felt as though I was reintroducing myself to the land and community. The distance between myself and the building is representative of that barrier I felt within.
This image is taken of a family member, while we were having vulnerable conversations. We went to the car to smoke because it was cold out. Her and I went shooting earlier that day, and that was the first time I discussed with any family member about the body of work I was producing, and what it meant in terms of my identity. This was a significant moment for me, and helped propel the series forward. Her encouragement gave me confidence.
What motivates you to keep making pictures? In one sentence describe why visual storytelling matters to you.
Visual storytelling matters because it connects, builds understanding, and heals.
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