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What happens when a Native or indigenous person turns a video camera on his or her own culture? Are the resulting images different from what a Westernized filmmaker would create, and, if so, in what ways? This book discusses the core concepts of aesthetics and indigenous culture and examines the work of American Indian documentary filmmakers

This paper proposes a theoretical framework with which to dis- cuss the critical engagement of media art projects in Second Life with racialized self-representation, fashion and ethnic dress. Ex- amining Montreal-based Mohawk artist Skawennati’s machinima series, TimeTravellerTM (2008-13), a project of self- determination, survivance and Indigenous futurity, it argues the critically-aware act of ‘virtually self-fashioning’ racialized born- digital identities, or virtual ethnicities, disrupts ways in which today’s vast proliferation of self-technologies enabling the crea- tion, recreation and management of multiple selves, would other- wise remain complicit with neoliberal colour-blind racism

Avec Alex Wilson, Jeffrey McNeil, Teddy Syrette, May Ela and Ahmed Maswadeh.

Trois essais de Richard W. Hill, Jonathan D Katz et Todd B Porterfield.

El siguiente artículo es una respuesta a la exposición de arte indígena contemporáneo Gran Chaco Gualamba. Arte, Cosmovisión, Soberanía (Chaco, Argentina; Julio de 2013). Sin desviarse de los propios objetivos de la muestra, problematiza la práctica curatorial como una forma de ver y mostrar a la producción artística de las poblaciones originarias como artefactos significantes íntimamente enlazados con sus formas de vida comunitaria -y no meramente obras de arte autónomas y asépticas de toda función social-. Contrastando las definiciones del equipo de curadoras, el corpus de obras expuestas y el discurso de pobladores originarios, se muestra que este intento por recuperar el nexo orgánico entre arte, cosmovisiones y vida en comunidad resulta trunco, dado que los propios pobladores originarios consideran esta vinculación como una circunstancia históricamente pretérita, previa a los procesos de colonización. Recuperando las luchas presentes de las comunidades, que a falta de ese pasado armonioso plantean su identidad como resistencia necesaria para un futuro distinto – mejor-. This work is a response to a contemporary indigenous art exhibition titled «Gran Chaco Gualamba - Arte, Cosmovisión, Soberanía» (Chaco, Argentina; July 2013). Consistent with the purposes of this exhibition, the article problematizes curatorial practice as a way to present the artistic production of the indigenous populations as significant artifacts intimately involved in the daily community life, and not merely as autonomous artistic objects with no social function. By contrasting the definitions provided by the curatorial team,the corpus of artworks exhibited and the native peoples’ speech, the article shows how the exhibit fails to recover the link between art, cosmovisions and community life because the native populations themselves consider these three spheres as an outdated historical circumstance, previous to the colonization processes. Finally, the current struggles of the communities are mapped which, in the absence of that harmonious past, pose their identity as a necessary resistance for a better future.

Este artículo analiza las implicaciones ontológicas y el carácter performativo del documental Shekuita o el mal trueno, lanzado en 2017 por un colectivo de producción audio- visual indígena wiwa en la Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta en Colombia. El documental explora las causas, dudas y consecuencias de un triste incidente ocurrido tres años antes: la caída de un rayo sobre una edificación ceremonial de los wiwas, que causó la muerte a casi una docena de líderes. A partir del contraste entre las explicaciones científicas de la tragedia y las que han investigado las autoridades espirituales de la comunidad desde sus ontologías relacionales, y basándonos en un trabajo de campo cuasietnográfico durante el proceso de filmación, buscamos dar cuenta de un caso específico de descolonización de lo real y de los esfuerzos de una comunidad indígena por la libre expresión y la representación autónoma. Encontramos que este documental abre puertas de forma artística a mundos otros, contados en clave insumisa desde una indigenidad que nos interpela. Concluimos que los wiwas performan un realidad que no necesariamente es la que vivieron, sino una que les permite estratégicamente alcanzar más fácilmente la realidad que quieren recuperar. El artículo intenta contribuir a la visibilización de otras ontologías distintas de la naturalista, a mostrar las autocríticas de esta y a manifestar cómo el audiovisual es un espacio propicio para descolonizar lo real. This paper analyzes the ontological implications and the performative nature of the documentary Shekuita o el mal trueno, released in 2017 by a Wiwa indigenous audiovisual production group in Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia. The do-cumentary explores the causes, doubts and consequences of a sad incident that happened three years earlier: a lightning strike on a Wiwas ceremonial building, which killed nearly a dozen leaders. Based on the contrast between the scientific explanations of the tragedy and those that the spiritual authorities of the community have investigated according to their relational ontologies and based on a quasi-eth-nographic fieldwork during the filming process, we seek to account for a specific case of decolonization of reality and of the efforts of an indigenous community for free expression and autonomous representation. We find that this documentary opens doors to other worlds in an artistic way, told in an unsubmissive way by an indigenous community that challenges us. We conclude that the Wiwa perform a reality that is not necessarily the one they lived through, but one that strategically allows them to reach the reality they want to recover more easily. The paper at-tempts to contribute to the visibility of other ontologies other than the naturalistic one, to show self-criticism of it and to show how the audiovisual is a propitious space to decolonize reality.

Digital games, with their capacity for expression and facilitating experience through code, design, art, and audio, offer spaces for Indigenous creatives to contribute to Gerald Vizenor’s characterization of survivance as an active sense of Native presence. Indigenous digital games can be acts of survivance both in the ways they are created as well as the resulting designs. We Sing for Healing is an experiment in developing an Indigenous digital game during limited Internet access that resulted in a musical choose-your-own adventure text game with design, art, and code by Anishinaabe, Métis, and Irish game developer Elizabeth LaPensée alongside music by Peguis First Nation mix artist Exquisite Ghost. The non-linear gameplay expresses traditional storytelling patterns while enabling players to poetically travel in, through, and around traditional teachings. The design uses listening, choosing, and revisiting to reinforce what is best described as a non-linear loopular journey.

Digital games can uniquely express Indigenous teachings by merging design, code, art, and sound. Inspired by Anishinaabe grandmothers leading ceremonial walks known as Nibi Walks, Honour Water (http://www.honourwater.com/) is a singing game that aims to bring awareness to threats to the waters and offer pathways to healing through song. The game was developed with game company Pinnguaq and welcomes people from all over to sing with good intentions for the waters. The hope is to pass on songs through gameplay that encourages comfort with singing and learning Anishinaabemowin. Songs were gifted by Sharon M. Day and the Oshkii Giizhik Singers. Sharon M. Day, who is Bois Forte Band of Ojibwe and one of the founders of the Indigenous Peoples Task Force, has been a leading voice using singing to revitalize the waters. The Oshkii Giizhik Singers, a community of Anishinaabekwe who gather at Fond du Lac reservation, contribute to the healing for singers, communities, and the waters. Water teachings are infused in art and writing by Anishinaabe and Métis game designer, artist, and writer Elizabeth LaPensée. From development to distribution, Honour Water draws on Indigenous ways of knowing to reinforce Anishinaabeg teachings with hope for healing the water.

Video games, which uniquely interweave design, code, art, and sound, can be an especially robust way to express Indigenous cultures. Such games should involve Indigenous people in meaningful roles throughout design and development from conceptualization to distribution with a focus on building capacity to encourage self-determination for Indigenous game developers. This call to action informs SPEAR (Sovereignty, Positionality, Equity, Advocacy, and Reciprocity), a framework for design and development informed by the Indigenous cultural game Thunderbird Strike.

The educational video game, When Rivers Were Trails, was launched in 2019. The purpose of the game is to teach players about Indigenous perspectives of history, US federal allotment policies affecting tribal nations, and some of the effects of these policies on Indigenous peoples. This article explores tribal college student experiences playing When Rivers Were Trails in hopes that it provides the basis for further research into how tribal college faculty may be able to teach the game within their own classrooms. Tribal colleges and universities were created by tribal nations to provide for the higher education needs of their citizens. Using phenomenological research methods, seven college students volunteered to participate in a brief study about their experiences playing the video game. Upon transcription and analysis of the interview data, three themes were developed that capture how these students define their experience with When Rivers Were Trails: feelings of representation, histories of land dispossession, and resilience of communities.

"Although the fields of media studies and digital humanities are both well established, their overlaps have not been examined in depth. This comprehensive collection fills that gap, giving students, scholars, and media studies practitioners a cutting-edge guide to understanding the array of methodologies and projects operating at the intersection of digital humanities, computing, and culture. Topics covered include: networks; interfaces; media and culture at scale; procedures, programming, code; memory, digitization, and new media; and hacking, queering, and bending."--Provided by publisher

Game Devs & Others: Tales from the Margins tell the true stories of life in the industry by people of color, LGBTQIA and other marginalized identities. This collection of essays give people a chance to tell their stories and to let others know what life on the other side of the screen is like when you’re not part of the supposed “majority”. Key Features This book is perfect for anyone interested in getting into the games industry who feels they have a marginalized identity For those who wish to better diversify their studio or workplace who may or may not have access to individuals that could or would share their stories about the industry Includes initiatives aimed at diversifying the industry that have a positive or negative impact on the ongoing discussions Coverage of ajor news items about diversity, conferences aimed at or having diversity at its core of content and mission are discussed Included essays are written with as little game dev specific jargon as possible, makeing it accessible to people outside the industry as well as those in the scene but that may not have all the insider lingo

Have you ever wanted to know which games to use in your classroom, library, or afterschool program, or even at home? Which games can help teach preschoolers, K-12, college students, or adults? What can you use for science, literature, or critical thinking skills? This book explores 100 different games and how educators have used the games to teach - what worked and didn't work and their tips and techniques. The list of 100 goes from A to Z Safari to Zoombinis, and includes popular games like Fortnite, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, and Minecraft, as well as PC, mobile, VR, AR, card and board games.

This thesis explores the many ways indigenous religion is articulated, performed and translated in the video game Never Alone - Kisima Inŋitchuŋa (2014). The video game was among the first of its kind – being made in a close collaboration with an indigenous group, and published by the first indigenous owned video game company in the U.S.A. At launch, Never Alone gathered attention from traditional media in both North America and in Europe, and the game reached a global audience. Never Alone tells a story based on Inupiat storytelling, and Cultural Ambassadors gives the player an insight into Inupiat culture and tradition. Never Alone balances on the edge between the conventions of the video game medium and its genres, and of indigenous tradition and religion. This thesis examines how vocabularies that can be related to ‘indigenous religion’ are used and translated in Never Alone, and how these vocabularies relate to a globalizing discourse on indigenous religion. This thesis also explores how the medium of video games facilitates new ways of reclaiming traditions and articulating indigenous religion.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: As I sit writing in my kitchen while the forces of the U.S. military state are brought to bear on thousands of Standing Rock water stewards and land protectors and their allies in Cannonball, North Dakota, I consider how this sail special issue on digital Indigenous studies not only represents a collection of essays about the critical work Indigenous women are performing in their various digital projects but also illustrates that these online “Indigenous territories” (Hearne), crafted on social media platforms such as Twitter and Facebook, save lives. Every single day since the protectors first gathered to oppose the proposed 1,170-mile Dakota Access pipeline (a project that would potentially contaminate the Missouri watershed and the Ogallala Aquifer and desecrate Dakota sacred sites), digital independent and social media have constantly covered the story. At least 1.3 million Facebook users checked in virtually at Oceti Sakowin and other Indigenous camps and communities to ensure that support presence is recognized, while the world monitors the presence of the military and police force gathering at the construction site to curb further violence. The Standing Rock gathering offers hope to networked Indigenous youth, a demographic between three and ten times as likely to commit suicide than the national average peer rate. The Nodapl action in the Indigenous imaginary is an invitation to stand at the front lines of a global movement to protect water and land resources for all living beings on this planet and to draw attention to and support those whose lives and ways of being are in peril through overt military action and consequential environmental destruction. It is also an occasion, in the words of Jolene Rickard, “to invest in the apparatus of the imagination” (Bernardin). One need only look at the online art, handwritten signs, and logos representing #nodapl, #standingrock, [End Page 172] #waterislife, and #rezpectourwater to see the ways in which Indigenous artists are creatively and powerfully envisioning this movement, most often immersed with work that features strong images of Native women and girls, the community backbone and life force. Or we need only view digital videos like computer animator and artist Joseph Erb’s black-and-red graphic history of Standing Rock, “Mni Wiconi / Water Is Life” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kXoy5lzpjiM), and first-person game platforms like Elizabeth LaPensée’s Thunderbird Strike, which extend the conversations at Standing Rock to the struggles over Enbridge’s Alberta tar sands pipeline and fracking practices as players work to undo and prevent further environmental degradation. Following Idle No More’s digital and geospatial (re)articulation of Indigenous territories, we are now living and loving and hoping in this historic moment as new ways of relating to one another and living in deep connection with the land and all its forms of life are being physiologically, intellectually, and spiritually forged at the geospatial confluence of the Missouri and Cannonball Rivers. They are being forged as well through the confluences of digital rivers on our electronic devices and in our online conversations about the beauty and devastation of the events that are unfolding in Standing Rock. Susan Bernardin’s essay in this issue on Heid E. Erdrich’s “Pre-Occupied” considers the meaning of rivers to Native peoples and contends that images of waterways, particularly the Mississippi, are mobilized “to make visible the continuing claims of this and other imperiled riverine systems.” In her introduction, Joanna Hearne asks us, “How might such an intersection of digital and Indigenous specificities take place in a way that is ‘native to the device’; that is, how might Indigenous specificity be embedded in shared platforms that are therefore central to all of our digital lives?” The essays in this special issue respond to this question by theorizing digital media in fresh and innovative ways. Many of us teach digital humanities courses or classes with strong digital media content, but we lack the language for critically engaging this new field on its own terms as it intersects, extends, and radically reconceptualizes more familiar research areas such as cinema studies, Indigenous / Native American studies, communication, literature, art, and history.

Thunderbird Strike, a 2D side-scroller developed by Elizabeth LaPensée, allows a player fly from the Tar Sands to the Great Lakes as a thunderbird protecting Turtle Island with searing lightning against the snake that threatens to swallow the lands and waters whole. The game encouraged players to learn about the indigenous culture, reflect on water protection and alternative energy sources, and gain awareness of risks posed by oil pipeline construction for the conveyance of tar sands.Thunderbird Strike was developed through residencies including O k’inādās Residency, The Banff Musicians in Residence Program, and Territ-Aur(i)al Imprints Exchange thanks to the 2016 Artist Fellowship grant from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council.

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.