Dazaunggee
Paul Shilling
I accept your apology.
Your apology made me cry
from somewhere deep inside,
for my mother
and father,
sisters and brothers,
and for my children.
But I ask you
this question.
What possessed you
to kill the child in the
First Nation people?
-
END OF OPPRESSION, Oil on canvas, 24” x 30”, 2016
Biography
Born in 1953 in Rama, Ontario, I attended art studies at Georgian College in the early 1990s, but I am primarily self-taught and informed through
my life experience.
Thoughts on Truth and Reconciliation:
I accept your apology. Your apology made me cry from somewhere deep inside, for my mother and father, sisters and brothers, and for my children.
But I ask you this question. What possessed you to kill the child in the First Nation people? To turn my people into the ugly slick. So wickedly they hated themselves, picking up the broken pieces of their traditional ways. To do something so unkind is to be lost yourself. To be broken and torn from your sacredness. Which is yourself.
There is a grandfather, mishomis, and his seven year old grandson. The grandson has a friend who is also the same age. His friend is shoganosh (light skinned). Mishomis is teaching his grandson about life, and today he is going to tell him the Teaching and Sacredness of the Four Colours. As mishomis prepares himself, there is a disagreement between the two boys and the grandson asks his friend to leave and come back tomorrow. His friend does not want to leave, but out of respect, he agrees and begins to walk away. At this moment, mishomis calls to both boys to come sit by the fire. The shoganosh boy could not help himself and turned to join mishomis and his friend. “Mishomis,” says the grandson. “I asked my friend to leave and now he is back. Can you explain to my friend that it’s been 500 years since we lost our culture and we are once again finding and rediscovering ourselves? Mishomis, ask my friend to leave.”
Mishomis sits the boys in the circle. “Grandson, it is a hard journey, to unravel and to fix what is broken. Yes, it has been 500 years since we lost our culture and the way home can be painful, but let me tell you something about your friend: he, too, is lost, but he has been lost for 2000 years. For someone so special as your friend, who can show this much love and respect for our culture, we can’t push him away, grandson. Your friend must stay."
Statement
I have been haunted by faces since my early childhood – faces of the living, of the dying, and of rebirth. I see the many masks and layers of these faces, but I am fascinated with what is actually underneath. Most of our faces are cover-ups, well trained to conceal a lifetime of pain, shame and guilt. The masks universally are all the same, yet what is underneath is utterly unique and seeks expression. The many personas that we create keep us from knowing who we really are. Energy goes into self-protection and self-denial instead of self-liberation. The child, the adult, the elder all live simultaneously inside of us and are wrapped in the blanket of our spirit. But their voices are muted, their cries for recognition unheard. Yet still the indestructible spirit seeks to emerge, to be felt, heard and seen. There are few who can actually show their true self.
For me painting is a medium for healing, for celebrating the spirit, and it is a gift. It is an opportunity to explore and understand myself and my place and relationship within the circle of creation. As an aboriginal man I feel the need to shed the image that was taught to me as a child – that I was undesirable, shameful, unworthy. This continual redefinition, the questioning and searching, keeps my work alive, seeking to shed the old self and invite the new and ever-changing self. As I express myself, I heal myself; the inner voice and the inner eye clear and open for the energy of the image to move through me from “the great house of invention”. This is the manifest vision from the sky world that springs to life in the painting.
There are many bundles that we talk about – the pipe, the drum, the rattle, medicines, and our children. Those are all sacred. But I believe the most sacred bundle of all is the little girl and little boy that lives inside of us. So the healing begins, the brushes begin to move, eyes begin to open, the fire is rekindled and the new self arises. Heal the child within and life becomes sacred. Living begins to mean something again. I’m seeking to heal, to know joy again and to express the true self.