Working with living artists affords us the chance to ask them directly about their work and process. In AGH Magazine’s Quest10ns series, we ask contemporary artists whose work is on view at the AGH ten questions on a range of topics to gain insight into what drives their art practice.
Alex Jacobs-Blum (she/her) is a Gayogo̱hó꞉nǫʼ (Cayuga) and German visual artist and curator living in Hamilton, ON. In her first museum solo exhibition, (‘Living and Lost Connections’) Jacobs-Blum uses photography and video to explore themes of continuity and legacy embedded in the ancestral knowledge within her body.
As part of her artmaking process, Jacobs-Blum immerses herself in Gayogo̱hó꞉nǫʼ (Cayuga) homelands, situated around one of the Finger Lakes in present-day upstate New York. There, she embodies Hodinöhsö:ni’ women across generations, connecting deeply with Creation. By documenting her presence in the landscape, she navigates historical narratives, displacement, responsibility, and the shaping of new futures.
On a journey of reclamation rooted in resilience, she confronts the intergenerational impact of displacement and trauma, exploring how to grieve in a way that honours healing and renewal.
1. How long was the process of putting ‘Living and Lost Connections’ together, from an idea to a fully formed exhibition?
I would say from the start of the thought process to creating the work, it took me about three years. It was really at the start of the pandemic, I had started having conversations with (AGH curator) Melissa Bennett.
I had been wanting to build a body of work off of my last body of work, which was when I travelled to my homelands for the first time, and it was kind of a reformation journey of empowerment and reclaiming my Indigeneity. I had been wanting to visit my homelands for a long time, but I didn’t feel confident in myself enough to go- but then I had a dream in, I think 2018, where I saw myself there, which I felt was a sign that I was ready to go.
That was totally life changing to be on my homelands for the first time. Spending time with the waterfalls and the land, I felt a sense of belonging that I had wanted to feel for so long. I never really felt validated in my Indigeneity growing up, my mom always told us to hide it. We grew up in a city, so it was a protective mechanism and there was some shame built around it. So this was really my first time being there and I felt so validated and comfortable, and totally like myself. Even though I didn’t really engage with anyone there, just the physical presence felt all-encompassing.
Driving home, I was thinking a lot about what physically brought me here, and a thought hit me like a brick wall, where I was like, ‘Oh, love brought me here. Love that transcends time and space. I don’t know my ancestors, but I feel them, and they love me and acknowledge me.’ So that was the moment where I was like, ‘Woah, this is so much bigger than me.’
So I had been thinking about that for a long time, but when the pandemic hit and I couldn’t travel, I was longing to go back. I had started my curatorial process as well, and learning about Indigenous Futurism- this idea that we’re all coming home to ourselves and a part of this journey in building a collective future that is rooted in Indigenous knowledge, where Indigenous knowledge is valued. That was such an empowering concept to me, that we are all a part of this even though people are in different disciplines and creating different things, but it’s all contributing to a future where we’re going to be empowered and breaking down those layers of intergenerational trauma.
I kept returning back to our cosmologies, so I was thinking about time and space and how love transcends time and space. So I was returning back to the Hodinöhsö:ni’ creation story, and that’s when I was like, taking that time to understand the teachings more thoroughly, and that’s how I came upon the concept of grief as an important teaching, a part of our values as Hodinöhsö:ni’ people is learning how to grieve and learning how to care for yourself in order to heal. So I was thinking about that in terms of a grander gesture, that we need to grieve, in order to heal, in order to build a new future.
My mom passed away, so I felt as though I was carrying a lot of grief within my body. In returning to my homelands this past year I was doing a lot of that releasing, a lot of grieving with the land, trying to give it back so that there’s this reciprocity, that we are healing together.
2. Could you describe your art-making process for this exhibition? And was that different than your usual process?
Normally I create the work and then I think about it afterwards, usually I take my camera out on the land then build the narrative from the images. This was more of an embodied process, where I incorporated my body into the work. It was more performative I would say, everything was really performative, so I was moving through it intuitively.
I was also building and learning as I went, like there were things that I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do. I wanted to do a dance for the video based on Sky Woman’s dance that she made Turtle Island with. So I had been thinking about that for a long time and could envision it, but when I actually did it, I felt really tense, my body wasn’t falling into the movements. So afterwards I was reflecting and I thought, ‘Maybe I’m not ready for this yet,’ so I took it as a teaching. I was learning to take lessons and cues from the land.
Then I came back to the time and space concept, I was thinking a lot about spirals and this concept of me coming back to myself, seeing myself at the beginning of my journey, but stronger. The process was very reflective, so I took my time with it. I didn’t want to be extractive of my time or the land. There were times where I took trips to my homelands, times where I would be taking photos but I don’t really get anything, and I just kind of said, ‘Oh well, it is what it is.’ I didn’t try to force it, where before at the beginning of my practice, I wanted something out of every trip. I always tried to make sure I got something, whereas this time I tried to be more gentle with myself.
3. What is something you’d like to incorporate into your work moving forwards?
I think I want to include more sculpture in my work, like the inclusion of the rocks (in ‘Living and Lost Connections’) tangibly felt really good. I also made some clay domes for another body of work I recently did.
That was also a beautiful grief process because I was able to channel all of that energy into the clay and working with the clay felt so intuitive. So it was like, it felt really ancestral. I wanted to build on that. I think I’m going to build upon that in my residency here, create some sculpture up there in the space.
4. Do you have a favourite piece in the exhibition? And why?
‘Grieving for my Ancestors’ is my favourite work in the collection because it was really the start of my journey, and I just find it so beautiful to reflect back on where I was in my life. This was a moment when I was visiting my mom, she lived on Lake Huron, I would go visit her every summer. It was a time when I was trying to figure out what this all meant, it didn’t come to me until maybe a year after I took the photo what the show actually was- but I started here. If I didn’t do this, I don’t think I would’ve ended up where I was.
It was a really important step, even the incorporation of my body, and thinking about ancestors and this embodiment of ancestors. I always return back to that work as being something I’m really proud of.
5. Your exhibition is on display beside Shelley Niro’s ‘500 Year Itch’ exhibition. Thoughts?
I am so inspired by Shelley’s work, I always have been. She’s an artist from Six Nations, and she has been carving those pathways for the younger generations to come through. It’s so exciting to see her now getting these amazing accolades that she deserves, she’s been working at her practice for so long. Just to see all the different disciplines that she’s involved in, and see how she inserts herself and her family, it’s so inspiring to me- I love the gentleness and subtleness of her approach.
She’s also a beautiful human on top of that, I freak out every time I see her. She’s my biggest idol and she’s also a champion of my work, I really appreciate that- mentorship is a big part of my practice, that’s something I would like to do moving forwards, practice that reciprocity. I’ve been offered such incredible mentorship in my life, I’d like to extend that to those within the next generation.
6. What was your family’s reaction to seeing the exhibition?
It’s been a long journey, building up the confidence to share more of my work with my family. I’m the only artist in my family, so my parents were like, “Oh, you’re an artist? What does that even mean?” Like, no one even knew what the context was of what I do, and the storytelling in my work. So, it took a long time for me to build up the confidence to share it, but everybody has been so incredibly supportive.
I say that the work I make, I make for my brother, ultimately. The younger generation for sure, but more specifically my brother. He’s on his own learning and healing journey, and to see me move in this way and create vulnerable work, to share this story from moving from trauma into a healing space, I really want to model that for my brother.
Everybody is so proud of me. Just doing the work is healing me, fulfilling me. Outside of everything else, everything I do is for my family.
7. What do you hope that visitors take away from this exhibition?
I hope they take away a sense of grounding, like they’re being held. I did a smudging here after the show opened, just to call the ancestors into the space, and I’ve been receiving such amazing feedback from people saying that they feel so grounded, and like they’re being held by the space, and that I’m so grateful for. I wanted the audio of the heartbeat (in the exhibition) to align with your own heartbeat, so you can think about your own connection to the land and bring this collective consciousness back to your own responsibility to the land. I just want people to feel really good in this space.
When I think about how Indigenous people will move through this space, I want this space to feel, not like this institutional white cube, but like this fluid, mobile, caring space. I want it to feel like it’s inviting you into the conversation.
8. Who is an artist who has inspired you recently?
I’m always so inspired by Meryl McMaster’s work. I have been so lucky to have been recently connected with her, we did a couple of mentorship sessions where she was helping me build this body of work, we did some consultation sessions. She was amazing to chat with, she also inserts her body into her work, she’s very gentle in her practice. So when we were talking, I was like, “Oh my gosh, everything you’re saying is how I feel.” I was really unsure about how to put my body into the work, so she gave me really incredible advice, and was super generous with looking through all my work. She’s a person I constantly return to as another influence who is carving those pathways for us.
9. If you weren’t an artist, what would you be?
I don’t know if I could be anything else! I think I kind of fell into curating- I fell in love with it a couple of years ago, so that’s something that has been really beautiful and a great way to build community. So maybe if I wasn’t involved in the arts, then something probably community-based, youth programming probably. I love being a part of my community and engaging with youth.
10. What are you working on next?
So it’ll be the residency! (Alex Jacobs-Blum will be our upcoming RBC Artist in Residence) I have been dreaming and thinking about what I want to do there. It’ll definitely be an extension of this work (‘Living and Lost Connections’), so I think I’ll be using some of these pieces in the residency.
I’ve been thinking about the eclipse- that was such a historic thing, in general, but especially sacred for the Hodinöhsö:ni’, because it was in complete totality over our homelands. So it’s been talked about by Hodinöhsö:ni’ astronomers that the eclipse happened at the same time as the inception of our Great Law of Peace thousands of years ago. So I’m thinking a lot about those teachings as well, returning back to that and thinking about how we’re enacting the Great Law of Peace today, so I’m going to carry those thoughts into the residency.
Alex Jacobs-Blum’s work is on view now until May 20, 2024! Find ‘Living and Lost Connections’ on the first floor of the AGH, and stay tuned for news about her residency.
