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In 2017, the American game designer Momo Pixel released the single-player, browser-based game Hair Nah. In this game, you play as Aeva, a Black woman taking trips to locations that include Osaka, Havana, and the Santa Monica Pier. As you move through levels on your journey—taking a taxi ride, traversing airport security, sitting on an airplane—you must slap away increasingly aggressive white hands that reach into the frame to touch your hair. Though Hair Nah taps into the genre of a casual button-mashing game, this interactive experience also explores the topic of microaggressions via unwanted hair touching. If you slap away enough hands on your travels, you reach a screen welcoming you to your destination with the message “YOU WIN!” but the caveat, “The game is over, but this experience isn’t. This is an issue that black women face daily. So a note to those who do it STOP THAT SHIT.”

This paper argues that video games expose the presumptions separating “Asian America” and “Asia” in the traditional senses of isolation, origination, and presumed distance. It does so by focusing on the most “Asiatic” genre of video games today, the North American visual novel, which offers a counterdiscourse to normative modes of play and attempts to offer utopic spaces to reflect upon the “real” genres of race and neo–Cold War geopolitics. Using theories of performance from Dorinne Kondo and others, the author shows how queer indie visual novels are primarily aspirational, in that they build queer, utopic, and seemingly anti-racist worlds through the Asiatic space of the visual novel form. In so doing, they also allow players to explore the Asiatic as a means of repairing the traumas and distances of American imperial cultures. The article analyzes four visual novels to make this argument: three by non-racially-identifying North American designers—Doki Doki Literature Club! (2017) by Dan Salvato, Analogue: A Hate Story (2012) by Christine Love, and Heaven Will Be Mine (2018) by Aevee Bee—and Butterfly Soup (2017), a game by the queer Asian/American designer Brianna Lei. If games make the boundaries of Asia and America irrelevant, visual novels explore this irrelevance through Asiatic irreverence.

This article examines Indigenous video games that critique mainstream environmental politics at the level of mechanics. An analysis of video games’ influences on ecological values requires looking beyond the representational to the mechanical relationships between player and software. As a cultural–computational medium, video games are embedded with ethics of interaction that inflect this representational dimension by requiring that players generate the text as participant. With the recent visibility of Indigenous rights movements, developers have embedded Indigenous cultural protocols in the mechanical interactions (or technical protocols) of gameplay. In the context of critique, their integration produces “critical protocols,” configurations of gamic action that encourage players to evaluate their treatment of real-world environments. Critical protocols emerge between the technical and cultural, where scripts for interaction in algorithmic spaces intervene in affirmative game design and work as an analog beyond the game. Indigenous developers call for new ways of computing and critiquing settler digitality through play. These games aim toward representational as well as computational sovereignty.

Michelle Browder’s “The Mothers of Gynecology” remembers Black women who endured surgeries without anesthesia, or consent.

Indigenous peoples and their cultural heritages, their ways of knowing and living, are tied to land. As Mishuana Goeman states,“Land is foundational to people’s cultural practices, and if we define culture as meaning making rather than as differentiation and isolation in a multicultural neoliberal model, thanby thinking through land as a meaning-making process rather than a claimed object, the aspiration of Native people are apparent and clear,” (Goeman, 73).Goeman asserts here that land is not limited to physical space, and that land locates a group of people physically, culturally, spiritually, intellectually,etc. and provides them with both an internal and external locus of understanding for and within broader society. When digital representations of Indigenous peoples are completely removed from any meaningful connection to their land, anerasure of culture occurs. Moreover, the physical removal of Indigenous peoples from the virtual representations of their lands is another form of dispossession and the enactment of digital Manifest Destiny. This paperutilizes a decolonial Indigenous framework to analyze the dispossessions that take place within the digital realm of the video game, why they occur so frequently, and why they are so harmful.

Seeking ways to understand video games beyond their imperial logics, Patterson turns to erotics to re-invigorate the potential passions and pleasures of play.

In Slave Revolt on Screen: The Haitian Revolution in Film and Video Games author Alyssa Goldstein Sepinwall analyzes how films and video games from around the world have depicted slave revolt, focusing on the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804). This event, the first successful revolution by enslaved people in modern history, sent shock waves throughout the Atlantic World. Regardless of its historical significance however, this revolution has become less well-known—and appears less often on screen—than most other revolutions; its story, involving enslaved Africans liberating themselves through violence, does not match the suffering-slaves-waiting-for-a-white-hero genre that pervades Hollywood treatments of Black history. Despite Hollywood’s near-silence on this event, some films on the Revolution do exist—from directors in Haiti, the US, France, and elsewhere. Slave Revolt on Screen offers the first-ever comprehensive analysis of Haitian Revolution cinema, including completed films and planned projects that were never made. In addition to studying cinema, this book also breaks ground in examining video games, a pop-culture form long neglected by historians. Sepinwall scrutinizes video game depictions of Haitian slave revolt that appear in games like the Assassin’s Creed series that have reached millions more players than comparable films. In analyzing films and games on the revolution, Slave Revolt on Screen calls attention to the ways that economic legacies of slavery and colonialism warp pop-culture portrayals of the past and leave audiences with distorted understandings.

The Latinx Research Center's Revista N'oj hosted a round table discussion on Decolonial Aesthetics titled, "Decolonizing Art & Praxis in the Time of Covid-19." The talk included Jesus Barraza, Dr. Guisela Latorre, Dr. Mauricio Barros de Castro, and Dr. Laura E. Pérez. The panel was moderated by Revista N'oj editor, Abraham Ramirez.

In the last decade or so, cinema has revealed itself to be an ideal medium for the transfer and/or remediation of the spoken word as well as stories coming from oral tradition and Indigenous culture. Indeed, cinema is a place of expression which favours cyclical creativity and contributes to the decolonization of stereotyped images propagated by external voices that do not understand the subtleties of languages (real and symbolic) that are anchored in indigenous peoples’ cultural memory. By exploring indigenous cinema as practised by women of diverse nations, this piece demonstrates how cinema can induce the compression and dilation of time, to bring to the audience the fluidity of a story that has been reconfigured according to a new time and carried by spoken words that have chosen to either emancipate themselves from the image or to materialize themselves in it. Furthermore, this article illustrates how a new generation of Indigenous women use cinema to retrace and/or rewrite their personal narrative with the help of autobiographical or collective stories that travel back in time to fill in the blanks left by a fragile memory and to express their will to make peace with a difficult colonial past. Finally, the writings of Lee Maracle (I Am Woman, 1988) and Natasha Kanapé Fontaine (Manifeste Assi, 2014) are being brought forth to show how films such as Suckerfish (Lisa Jackson, 2004) Bithos (Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, 2015) and Four Faces of the Moon (Amanda Strong, 2016) contribute to the individual and community healing of Indigenous peoples of Canada, through an aesthetic of reconciliation. The exploration of these works, therefore allows us to shed light on and better understand the roles/internal mechanisms of visual autobiographies in the larger context of reconciliation with individual and collective stories/memories.

Résumé livre : "L’intersectionnalité, telle qu’élaborée par les féministes noires dans les années 1980, permet de réfléchir aux rapports de pouvoir dans leur complexe enchevêtrement. Au-delà d’un certain effet de mode, cette éthique est plus que jamais nécessaire pour comprendre le monde, à l’aube d’une décennie marquée par un virus ayant partout exacerbé la violence et les inégalités, et mis en évidence les systèmes de privilèges. Et qu’arrive-t-il lorsque l’on porte ce regard attentif sur les médias ? Les textes rassemblés dans cet ouvrage explorent avec aplomb les questions de l’inclusion et de l’exclusion médiatiques. Que décoder du traitement média réservé au port du hijab dans le sport, aux agressions sexuelles à l’endroit des femmes noires et autochtones, ou encore, de la place de la sourditude et des transidentités dans l’espace public? Un recueil qui amène son lot de réponses éclairantes et douloureuses, une rareté dans le paysage des études culturelles et médiatiques francophones."--Page 4 de la couverture

"This edited collection focuses on "unsettling" Northwest Coast art studies, bringing forward voices that uphold Indigenous priorities, engage with past and ongoing effects of settler colonialism, and advocate for practices for more accountable scholarship. Featuring authors with a variety of perspectives, backgrounds, and methodologies, Unsettling Art Histories offers new insights for the field of Northwest Coast art studies. Key themes include discussions of cultural heritage protections and long-standing defenses of natural resources and territory; re-centering women and the critical role they play in transmitting cultural knowledge across generations through materials, techniques, and creations; reflecting on the decolonization work being undertaken in museums; and examining how artworks function beyond previous scholarly framings as living documents carrying information critical to today's inquiries. Re-examining previous scholarship and questioning current institutional practices by prioritizing information gathered in Native communities, the essays in this volume exemplify various methods of "unsettling" and demonstrate how new methods of research have reshaped scholarship and museum practices."

L’auteure soutient que le documentaire de 2016 d’Alethea Arnaquq-Baril, Angry Inuk (Inuk en colère), crée, grâce au cinéma, des espaces de « souveraineté visuelle » centrés sur l’« agentivité sensorielle » inuite (Raheja, 2010 ; Robinson, 2016). La réalisatrice propose un recadrage, selon un point de vue inuit, de la rhétorique dominante entourant la chasse aux phoques, pratique décriée violemment par des groupes de défense des droits des animaux. Plus qu’une simple réfutation de ces discours sudistes, ce film met de l’avant les connaissances inuites en lien avec le territoire et la gestion des ressources et remet en question les argumentaires libératoires soutenus par ces organismes, dont les raisonnements reconduisent des dynamiques coloniales plutôt que de les ébranler. Comme l’évoque son titre, le documentaire riposte à l’ire des protestataires anti-chasse aux phoques (dont la voix s’impose souvent au détriment des voix inuites, généralement tues), en créant un espace d’expression pour la colère inuite, présentée à la fois comme carburant et comme point de départ légitime et valide de la lutte contre les organismes en question. De façon centrale, le film met en scène des récits de chasse aux phoques s’appuyant sur une « agentivité sensorielle » inuite qui, aux yeux de Dylan Robinson, se manifeste sous la forme de « modes d’expression qui, à la fois, affirment une force culturelle et exercent une puissance affective auprès des personnes présentes ». Arnaquq-Baril propose ainsi des représentations de rires partagés, d’un froid ressenti, de sons joyeux de consommation communautaire de diverses parties du phoque, de même que des photos tirées de la campagne Twitter menée autour du mot-clic #sealfie ; cette campagne médiatique, ancrée dans une célébration humoristique et fière de la chasse inuite aux phoques, se veut en ce sens un contre-point au discours affectif simpliste et méprisant des organismes anti-chasse. En s’articulant autour de la résilience complexe propre aux Inuits, Inuk en colère incarne en soi une forme de souveraineté inuite, s’imposant au sein des récits qui participent à la sensibilisation du public quant aux enjeux entourant cette chasse. En outre, le film invite l’auditoire à réfléchir aux avenirs autochtones et à envisager de quelles manières l’activisme pour la défense des droits des animaux peut être décolonisé afin qu’il ne mène pas à la reconduction de dynamiques violentes d’extractivisme et de colonisation.

Ce survol de l'art contemporain indigène, qui connut un succès retentissant dès son ouverture en novembre 2019, a été prolongé jusqu'au 4 octobre au Musée des beaux-arts du Canada. Àbadakone permet de découvrir des œuvres de plus de 70 artistes qui revendiquent leur appartenance à quelque 40 nations, ethnies et tribus de 16 pays, dont le Canada. Traitant des thèmes de la continuité, de l'activation et de l'interdépendance, Àbadakone explore la créativité, les préoccupations et la vitalité qui marquent l'art indigène de presque tous les continents. L'exposition est organisée par les conservateurs du Musée des beaux-arts du Canada Greg A. Hill, Christine Lalonde et Rachelle Dickenson, conseillés par les commissaires Candice Hopkins, Ariel Smith et Carla Taunton, ainsi que par une équipe d'experts du monde entier. .

Anthropologists of the senses have long argued that cultures differ in their sensory registers. This groundbreaking volume applies this idea to material culture and the social practices that endow objects with meanings in both colonial and postcolonial relationships. It challenges the privileged position of the sense of vision in the analysis of material culture. Contributors argue that vision can only be understood in relation to the other senses. In this they present another challenge to the assumed western five-sense model, and show how our understanding of material culture in both historical and contemporary contexts might be reconfigured if we consider the role of smell, taste, touch and sound, as well as sight, in making meanings about objects.

Art, performance, and spoken or now written text, all belong to the same register of cultural practice in the First Nations I am familiar with or belong to: ceremony. This ceremonial register takes place in a set of spaces created to enact cultural responsibilities to place, people and balance. Galleries and museums, as sites of cultural production and presentation, have the potential to nurture new ceremonies and new working methods.

This book uncovers popular games' key role in the cultural construction of modern racial fictions. It argues that gaming provides the lens, language, and logic - in short, the authority - behind racial boundary making, reinforcing and at times subverting beliefs about where people racially and spatially belong. It focuses specifically on the experience of Asian Americans and the longer history of ludo-Orientalism, wherein play, the creation of games, and the use of game theory shape how East-West relations are imagined and reinforce notions of foreignness and perceptions of racial difference.

L’exposition Öndia’tahterendih, oubliées ou disparues : Akonessen, Zitya, Marie et les autres, créée par la Boite Rouge Vif, une OBNL autochtone du Québec, et la commissaire wendate Sylvie Paré, présente 10 artistes rendant hommage aux femmes et aux filles autochtones touchées par le féminicide autochtone, tout en cherchant à mobiliser le public. Je souhaite dans le cadre de cet article explorer les stratégies mises en place au sein de l’exposition, telle qu’elle a été présentée au musée de la Civilisation du Québec en 2018. Je conclurai en explorant l’inscription de l’exposition dans le développement d’un commissariat engagé autochtone au Canada.

Indigenous Futurisms: Transcending Past/Present/Future investigates a major trend in Contemporary Native Art--the rise of futuristic or science-fiction inspired Native American art. The essays and artworks present the future from a Native perspective and illustrate the use of Indigenous cosmology and science as part of tribal oral history and ways of life. Several of the artists use sci-fi related themes to emphasize the importance of Futurism in Native cultures, to pass on tribal oral history and to revive their Native language. However, Indigenous Futurism also offer a way to heal from the traumas of the past and present--the post-apocalyptic narratives depicted in some of the artworks are often reality for Indigenous communities worldwide.