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Gloria Anzaldúa a délibérément écrit certains mots et certaines phrases en espagnol-chicano tout au long de cet article, choisissant pour des raisons politiques et esthétiques de produire un texte qui s’adresse à tout le monde mais peut être compris à des niveaux différents. Elle travaille ainsi aussi bien avec l’intelligibilité qu’avec la non-intelligibilité, liées au vécu et au positionnement social de chacun-e, au-delà de la langue elle-même. Pour tenter de respecter ce travail sur l’intelligibilité, nous avons procédé de la manière suivante. Dans certains cas, Anzaldúa a écrit une expression en espagno-chicano puis l’a traduite en anglais, nous avons alors procédé de la même manière. Dans les autres cas, nous avons laissé tel quel dans le corps du texte, ce qu’Anzaldúa a écrit en espagnol-chicano. Cependant, pour placer cette langue sur le même plan d’intelligibilité que l’anglais, pour le lectorat francophone, nous en proposons une traduction, en note. Enfin, nous avons ajouté un certain nombre de notes de contextualisation. Ainsi, les notes en lettres correspondent aux notes originales d’Anzaldúa, tandis que les notes en chiffres correspondent à la traduction de l’espagnol-chicano vers le français et enfin, les notes en i, ii, iii etc, correspondent aux notes des traductrices. Par ailleurs, deux termes sont particulièrement délicats à traduire : « raza » et « mestiza ». Au Mexique, le mot « raza » est polysémique. Au sens strict, il signifie « race », cependant son emploi actuel et courant n’implique aucune connotation raciale, mais plutôt populaire et affective (ma bande, mon quartier, ma famille élargie, les gens avec qui je m’identifie…), ce qui conduirait à le traduire plutôt par « peuple ». Nous avons donc choisi des traductions contextualisées, utilisant « race » pour la pensée de Vasconcelos (prise dans les courants racialistes internationaux des années vingt), et « peuple » pour la pensée d’Anzaldúa elle-même (qui l’utilise dans un sens actuel et populaire). L’ensemble de son œuvre montre amplement le caractère non-essentialiste de sa pensée, ce qui nous conforte dans ce choix. Enfin, le concept de « mestiza » (ou « mestizo ») possède au Mexique des connotations complexes et contradictoires. Il désigne une personne dominant-e par rapport à l’Indien-ne, mais aussi une personne dominé-e par rapport aux gens d’origine espagnole-européenne. Simultanément, il constitue l’archétype (positif) de la nouvelle « race » forgée dans l’ancienne colonie européenne transfigurée par l’indépendance puis la révolution. Pour Anzaldúa, le mot possède toutes ces connotations, mais signifie également la pluralité à l’intérieur de chaque être humain. Nous avons donc choisi de ne pas traduire le concept de « mestiza », qu’elle-même a décidé d’utiliser en espagnol, son article visant précisément à expliquer le sens nouveau qu’elle donne à la « nouvelle métisse ».

Résumé livre : The Cultural Work of Photography in Canada is an in-depth study on the use of photographic imagery in Canada from the late nineteenth century to the present. This volume of fourteen essays provides a thought-provoking discussion of the role photography has played in representing Canadian identities. In essays that draw on a diversity of photographic forms, from the snapshot and advertising image to works of photographic art, contributors present a variety of critical approaches to photography studies, examining themes ranging from photography's part in the formation of the geographic imaginary to Aboriginal self-identity and notions of citizenship. The volume explores the work of photographs as tools of self and collective expression while rejecting any claim to a definitive, singular t... Source: Publisher

Over a twenty-year period, renowned artists such as Edward Poitras, Robert Houle, Jim Logan, Kent Monkman, among others, appropriate renowned colonial landscape paintings and art historical canonical works, and then alter them to include First Nations narratives, as methods of critiquing the exclusionary nature of grand colonial narratives and their associated historical, art historical and, by extension, anthropological discourses. Using counter-appropriation as an artistic strategy, they critique: the West's disregard for First Nations histories in North America; Art History's past failures to classify their art objects as Fine Art; and contemporary cultural constructions of "Indianness" originating from colonial history and ideologies about the "Vanishing Race." With their works, the artists offer their viewers insight into First Nations histories and stories, thereby enriching the multiple narratives and pluralist discourses existent in North America.

Darkest Africa, the imagining of colonial fantasy, in many ways still lives on. Popular cultural representations of Africa often draw from the rich imagery of the un-charted, un-knowable ‘other’ that Africa represents, fraught with post-colonial tensions. When Capcom made the decision to set the latest instalment of its Resident Evil series in an imagined African country, it was merely looking for a new, unexplored setting, and they were therefore surprised at the controversy that surrounded its release. The 2009 game Resident Evil 5 was accused of racially stereotyping the black zombies and the white protagonist. These allegations have largely been put to rest, as this was never the intention of Capcom in developing the game or selecting the setting. However, the underlying questions remain: How is Africa represented in the game? How does the figure of the zombie resonate within that representation? And why does this matter?

Catalogue d'exposition avec plusieurs textes.

Told-to narratives, or collaboratively produced texts by Aboriginal storytellers and (usually) non-Aboriginal writers, often confound traditional literary understandings of voice and authorship. In this innovative exploration, these unique narratives are not romanticized as unmediated translations of oral documents, nor are they dismissed as corruptions of original works. Rather, the approach emphasizes the interpenetration of authorship and collaboration. Discussing a wide range of told-to narratives, including ethnography, recorded (auto)biography, testimonial life narrative, documentary, myth, legend, and song, Sophie McCall explores the multifaceted implications of the choices that editors, translators, narrators, and filmmakers make as they channel these narratives into new forms. Focused on the 1990s, when debates over voice and representation were particularly explosive, this comprehensive study examines collaboratively produced texts in conjunction with key political events that have shaped the struggle for Aboriginal rights in Canada. Emphasizing the scope rather than the limits of the told-to narrative, McCall considers how Aboriginal voices have been represented in a range of forums such as public inquiries, commissioners’ reports, and land claims court cases. A captivating inquiry, First Person Plural offers a vital, interdisciplinary discussion of how told-to narratives contribute to larger debates about Indigenous voice and literary and political sovereignty. This innovative, interdisciplinary study will be of interest to students and scholars of Indigenous studies, textualized oral narrative, literary studies, and Canadian cultural studies

Chronicles the global critical reception of Aboriginal art since the early 1980s and argues for a re-evaluation of Aboriginal art's critical intervention into contemporary art.

The cityscape holds the memories of indigenous bones and bodies that resurrect a deep sense of place that exists in the landscape of the city of Toronto. This deep sense of place is part of a connection to the land and stories of place. In this article, the author bridges the creative work of Anishinaabe artist Rebecca Belmore with the living histories of the indigenous bodies and bones that are buried beneath the ground of the city of Toronto and the city of Vancouver. She argues that Belmore's artwork is part of the living archive that performs cultural memory and employs telling as part of an embodied experience and a political act. Belmore's performance work creates, records, and stores indigenous stories of place. This article uses the ideas of cultural theorists Katherine McKittrick, Mishuana Goeman, and Matthew Sparke. Each of these people brings a different element to theories of the body and space. This article also uses feminist geographers Alison Blunt and Gillian Rose's work in women's colonial geographies to unpack the affects of the map in colonial spaces and the colonial gaze. (Contains 4 figures and 50 notes.)

Ruth Phillips argues that these practices are "indigenous" not only because they originate in Aboriginal activism but because they draw on a distinctively Canadian preference for compromise and tolerance for ambiguity. Phillips dissects seminal exhibitions of Indigenous art to show how changes in display, curatorial voice, and authority stem from broad social, economic, and political forces outside the museum and moves beyond Canadian institutions and practices to discuss historically interrelated developments and exhibitions in the United States, Britain, Australia, and elsewhere. Drawing on forty years of experience as an art historian, curator, exhibition critic, and museum director, she emphasizes the complex and situated nature of the problems that face museums, introducing new perspectives on controversial exhibitions and moments of contestation. A manifesto that calls on us to re-imagine the museum as a place to embrace global interconnectedness, Museum Pieces emphasizes the transformative power of museum controversy and analyses shifting ideas about art, authenticity, and power in the modern museum.

In this deeply engaging account, Michelle H. Raheja offers the first book-length study of the Indigenous actors, directors, and spectators who helped shape Hollywood's representation of Indigenous peoples. Since the era of silent films, Hollywood movies and visual culture generally have provided the primary representational field on which Indigenous images have been displayed to non-Native audiences. These films have been highly influential in shaping perceptions of Indigenous peoples as, for example, a dying race or as inherently unable or unwilling to adapt to change. However, films with Ind

Multiple expressions of sovereignty beyond a narrow legal interpretation are discussed through the artwork of contemporary Iroquois artists, G. Peter Jemison (Seneca), Alan Michelson (Mohawk), Samuel Thomas (Cayuga), and Marie Watt (Seneca). Michelson's installation at the Massena homeland security border checkpoint between the United States, Canada, and the Mohawk Nation, titled The Third Bank of the River, draws on the Guswentah or Two Row Wampum underscoring the problematic yet ongoing assertion of Haudenosaunee sovereignty. A link is made between the work of these artists and the 2008 Courtney Hunt film, Frozen River, based on the cultural and political understanding of the Two Row Wampum. The Guswentah is discussed as a demonstration of sovereignty and is historicized through Cayuga chief Deskaheh's call for the recognition of Haudenosaunee sovereignty at the League of Nations in Geneva, in 1923, John Mohawk's 1978 Basic Call to Consciousness, and more recently, Taiaiake Alfred's 1999 Peace, Power, Righteousness. These artists demonstrate the critical role they play in the ongoing formation of sovereignty as a visual or aesthetic issue in conjunction with its historic legal positioning.

Nadia Myre is a multidisciplinary artist whose work explores themes of language, culture, and memory, and who sources the culture of her Algonquin ancestors as a way of confronting contemporary realities. This monograph provides a comprehensive first look at this Montreal-based artist's remarkable career

The culmination of three seminars at SAR's Indian Arts Research Center (IARC) that brought together Native women artists to discuss the balancing of their art practice with the myriad roles, responsibilities, and commitments they have. The artworks were diverse in media and content and are featured in the plates section of this volume, along with the artist statements that accompanied the pieces in the exhibit. The chapters reflect some of the seminars emerging themes: gender, home/crossing, and art as healing/art as struggle

This major retrospective publication confirms Carl Beam (1943 - 2005) as one of North America's most important artists. Beam broke new ground throughout his career, notably as the first artist of Native Ancestry (Ojibwe) to have his work purchased by the National Gallery of Canada as Contemporary Art. Working in various mediums - photography, oil, acrylic, stone, cement, wood, ceramics and found objects - Beam's work continually explored the tensions between Western and Aboriginal relations. Featuring more than 50 of Beam's most remarkable works from his early career in the 1970s to the end of his production in the early 2000s, this richly illustrated monograph illuminates the artist's investigations into the metaphysical aspects of Western and Indigenous culture, while powerfully illustrating the wideranging physicality of his work. Source: Publisher

Many games touch upon issues that are related to the postcolonial culture we live in. Be it in the shape of referring to how it has generated ethnic differences, subscribing to (post) capitalist values of winning and gaining, or by employing militarist strategies that have been partly shaped our colonial histories, cultural notions that are related to our colonial past are often resonant in games. However, one particular strand of strategy games takes the notions of colonialism as its most central focus. Games like Age Of Empires (AOE), Civilization and Rise of Nations, may differ greatly in certain ludological aspects, but all share a strong fascination with colonial history. Through employing colonial techniques of domination like exploring, trading, map-making and military manoeuvring, players create their personal colonial pasts and futures. Even though it is evident that such games share an explicit fascination with colonial history, it remains less clear in what way they may be called postcolonial. In this article I will shed light on why and how such games can be called postcolonial and should even be conceived as one of the most significant arenas to express the tensions and frictions that are part of the postcolonial culture we live in. As postcolonial playgrounds they offer the perfect means to play with and make sense of how colonial spatial practices have shaped contemporary culture. I will argue that the very character of digital games as well as the specific game mechanisms of historical strategy games makes them postcolonial playgrounds par excellence.

How should one think about popular media in the African context? Should we attempt to understand and analyse the increasing proliferation of tabloids, reality television shows, pop music, websites and mobile communications through the analytical frameworks constructed by scholars in the Global North, or does Africa pose unique research questions? Is there a danger of either essentializing Africa by treating her as ‘different’, or by ignoring her specificity by approaching her media via Western theoretical constructs? The scholar wishing to understand the interface between popular media, development and democracy in contemporary African societies is faced with a complex double bind. Elsewhere (Nyamnjoh 2005: 2-3) I have argued that African worldviews and cultural values are doubly excluded from global media discourses, first by the ideology of hierarchies and boundedness of cultures, and second by cultural industries more interested in profits than the promotion of creative diversity and cultural plurality. Little attention is accorded to how Africans negotiate and navigate the various identity margins and cultural influences in their lives, in ways that are not easily reducible to simple options or straightforward choices. The consequence of rigid dichotomies or stubborn prescriptiveness based on externally induced expectations of social transformation is an idea of democracy hardly informed by popular articulations of personhood and agency in Africa, and media whose professional values and content are not in tune with the expectations of those they purport to serve. The predicament of media practitioners in such a situation, as well as those wishing to understand African media practice through media theory, is obvious: to be of real service to liberal democracy and its expectations of modernity, they must ignore alternative ideas of personhood and agency in the cultural communities within which such practices take place and of which such practitioners and, often, scholars form part. Attending to the interests of particular cultural groups as strategically essential entities risks contradicting the principles of liberal democracy and its emphasis on civic citizenship and the autonomous individual, which media practitioners in African societies are being held accountable to.

Este artículo discute el concepto de tiempo en la historia-disciplina como una noción política. A partir del análisis de las relaciones entre historia, nación y temporalidad, el autor intenta desentrañar por qué existe una distribución jerárquica de sujetos de la historia y sujetos de la cultura. Estudiando casos concretos de Sudáfrica y Argentina, intenta ver de qué manera esa distribución (incluso resignificada en la “nación multicultural”) impide ver ciertas continuidades en la reproducción de las asimetrías. El trabajo culmina analizando una noción poscolonial de historia como pérdida, como un regimen híbrido de historicidad. This article discusses the concept of time in History (the discipline) as a political notion. Starting with and analysis of the connivences between history, nation and temporality, the author tries to unravel why it operates a hierarchical distribution of “subjets of history” and “subjects of culture”. Dealing with specific cases of South Africa and Argentina, he tries to see how this distribution (even resignified in the “multicultural nation”) prevents to realize certain continuities in the reproduction of asymmetries. This piece of work ends analyzing a postcolonial notion of history as loss, meaning a hybrid regime of historicity.

Discussion of Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2008) by Mabel Moraña, Enrique Dussel, and Carlos A. Jauregui (eds.).

Combines post-modern theory with the comic wisdom of the tribal trickster to explore the effects of nostalgic simulations of "Indian-ness".

This article is a portal into the rapidly expanding historiography of modern Brazil. It highlights the major nodes of discussion and debate among historians of Brazil over the last two decades, and describes how these debates have been shaped by broader shifts in the historical profession. Two themes frame this survey of the new historiographical trends for postcolonial Brazil. One is the impact of the linguistic or cultural turn on that historiography. Slower to have an impact in the Brazilian historiography were the writings of the Subaltern Studies scholars and postcolonial theorists.