In 1831, the Mohawk Institute opened its doors. It was one of over a hundred facilities in

operation across Canada. It closed its doors as a residential school in 1970. As the oldest

residential school on the territory now known as Canada, it has long been referred to by its

survivors and their children as “The Mush Hole” because of the school’s poor food quality,

which was part of the humiliation, abuse, malnutrition, and tortxure of 150,000 Indigenous

children and youth across Canada. In this digital performance, through auto-ethnographic

storytelling, I set the table for a meal while I share my experience learning to speak the

language of food with love. Like learning any new language, it does not come naturally at first.

Every word requires intention and effort. Speaking this dialect of love in this space, the former

cafeteria, carries with it many implications. Feeling the memories that the space itself holds,

and reflecting on my own personal experiences with food, made it that much more important

that I act with loving intention.

It’s one thing to read about the history of the building, but existing physically in the space tied

connections with my own personal experiences I could never have made otherwise. I wanted

the tone of the performance to be focused on reconciliation and moving from surviving to

thriving, but once on site, I found the most compelling moments in the many anxieties that

come with waiting. Every step I took on the property held a liminal quality. I realized I have

been in a sort of standby mode, holding on for a transition. Waiting for the habits of nourishing

body and spirit to build and see the changes in my life. Waiting for settlers to come to the table

and for reconciliation to feel real.

Within my performance, I relied on the architecture of the space, the table setting, and my own

physical performance to convey this liminal experience through the screen. The shots of the

table setting are a little too balanced which highlights the missing other. I chose to place the

settings at opposite ends of a long table to bring out the awkward gap between Indigenous

and non-Indigenous people attempting to engage in reconciliation. I used a tableware set I

inherited from a settler relative. Before I received it, it had only been used a handful of times in

over 40 years. I use them every day. I was almost hoping something would break.

The performance was developed in consultation with Andy Houston. Our discussions helped

guide me towards a finished piece, and his support was crucial in my being able to continue

through highly emotional work. Teachings I have received and experiences in community were

always passing through my mind. My journey in learning to nourish my body and spirit started

from the stories and counsel of Elder Myeengun Henry.

I end my performance with a call to action: to make good meals, with love, for whoever needs

it; including yourself. Participating in reconciliation and attempting to move from surviving to

thriving is exhausting work. As I make these meals for myself, I replenish my resolve and grow

stronger in my optimism. When I set a table for discussion and dialogue, I am never certain

another will join with me. How long should I wait?

Photo and video credit: Shane Powless