We Belong to the Land: Vital Signs at the Bill Reid Gallery

Six Indigenous artists remind us that this land is not owned, but shared

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This is a photo of the Bill Reid Gallery central atrium including various Indigenous paintings and artifacts
PHOTO: Amirul Anirban / The Peak

By: Kyla Wane, SFU Student

Have you ever noticed how spokespersons at public events — SFU or otherwise — take a moment to recognize the unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) and many other Indigenous communities? 

The more I heard land acknowledgments, the more I was compelled to learn about the land we stand on. Over the past decade, public recognition of the injustices faced by Indigenous Peoples has become more common. They are a step toward recognizing that this land was never surrendered, nor was there a treaty or any agreement to hand over these territories.   

Land isn’t something to own but rather something to preserve. Vital Signs, an art exhibition at the Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coast Art captures these ties. It’s one of two exhibitions currently on display at the gallery from May 14 to September 7. The exhibition features artworks from artists originated from Indigenous Nations and communities as wide ranging as Nlaka’pamux, Syilx Okanagan, Kaska Dena, Hupačasath, Leq’a:mel, Kwakiuł, Dzawada’enuwx, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and Tahltan. The exhibit title “refers to the measurement of the body’s most basic functions,” but also “how the land is essential to our being and is a living entity itself.”

Aliya Boubard (Sagkeeng Anicinabe) and Amelia Rea (Ts’iits G’itanee), co-curators of the exhibition, said that their aim is to “help others understand the love and care that Indigenous people have for our traditional territories, and how important it is for us to advocate for the land. Without the ability to hunt, fish, or gather plants and medicines, our communities would be lost. The land is simply not just one part of identities, it is the entire foundation of our cultures and way of life.” They also added that the climate crisis is harming Indigenous communities — “In BC alone, we have seen the impacts of drought, fire, as well as the scarcity of crucial animal, insect, and plant species due to the extreme weather patterns and resource extraction across the province.” 

The gallery, established in 2008, pays tribute to Bill Reid, a celebrated Haidan artist, writer, and activist. He was named Yaahl Sgwansung (“The Only Raven”), in 1986 and is known for his monumental works like the Killer Whale at the Vancouver Aquarium and the Spirit of Haida Gwaii at the Vancouver International Airport. The museum is divided into a permanent collection and three temporary exhibitions per year. 

Even if our traditions differ, we all share the responsibility of preserving this earth.

On Friday, May 16, I visited the gallery and was pleasantly surprised to learn that admission was free for SFU students. The space is split into two levels: the permanent collection downstairs, with works of Bill Reid and Christian White, and the upstairs gallery with the Vital Signs exhibition. 

The exhibition features six prominent Indigenous artists: Jade Baxter (Nlaka’pamux), Jasper Berehulke (Syilx Okanagan), Kali Spitzer (Kaska Dena), Kwiis Hamilton (Hupač̓asatḥ, Stó꞉lō), Rebecca Baker-Grenier (Kwakiuł, Dzawada’enuwx, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh), and Sage Nowak (Tahltan, Vuntut Gwitchin). Through their painting, photography, video, and poetry, each artist reflects on the impact of climate change on their traditional territories. Their art is a way for them to be recognized as creators, but also as a way to honour their roots and relationships with the land.

One artwork that stayed with me was by Kwiis Hamilton, titled “Sayaasim min Nismaqkin” (In the future we belong to the land), accompanied by a powerful poem. In the painting’s description, he explains that it captures the “physical representation of our connection to the land we come from,” and supports the idea of contrasting extremes: “Life and Death, Hurt and Healing, Walking and Dreaming.” He reminds us that in times of change and uncertainty, remembering our roots and our belongings allows us to move onward.

While the painting holds transformation and ancestral presence, the poem offers a voice that claims space and identity. The passage that resonated with me was: “Belonging doesn’t mean / fitting into a box / It means breaking that box open / Smashing it to bits / So we can share all of who we are / with our beloved community / with our family and friends.”

His work makes clear that belonging is not just an individual identity but a shared responsibility to each other as a community, and the land we depend on. It captures the essence of climate change, as not only an environmental but also cultural crisis.

Today the world grapples with the fact that climate change is a pressing issue. In addition to acknowledging that the land doesn’t belong to us, we also have to make sure that there is still land to live on. We all share the responsibility of preserving this earth. This exhibition has shown me that sustainability and resilience should be a collective concern. 

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