bailey macabre’s collection of artworks pâkicihew (she has swollen hands) is a personal investigation of family, and yet it transcends a singular narrative, offering space to contemplate one’s own familial bonds and the larger contexts that shape them. Each of these pieces is visually striking, thoughtfully composed, and crafted with care.

This exhibition is a series of cyanotype textile artworks, each a meditation on healing, grief, family, and the enduring ties that bind generations together. The cyanotype process, which captures the ghostly forms of objects through the play of light and shadow, mirrors the way our memories are formed, imprinted with the indelible impressions of our ancestors. A zine, also made by the artist, acts as a guide to this collection as well as a keepsake. It contains helpful resources to services that support mental health and Indigenous wellness.

In the wake of Truth and Reconciliation Day, pâkichew (she has swollen hands) gives the public time and space to reflect on the larger national context that affected the fabric of families across this continent.

Through bailey’s art, we are invited to connect with the legacy of colonialism and residential schools, to remember our own family narratives, and to find solace, joy, and celebration in the transformative power of creativity.

My dear, sweet grandma. Little Violet.

There has been an absence since your departure into the spirit world that will never be filled. For all your intricacies, complexities, and sharpness, you held our family together in ways I never recognized until you’ve been gone.

You were the thread that kept so many of us together, and without you here, I’ve witnessed family members ruin themselves, clawing for things they should know do not matter. There have been moments of anger. Waves of grief. Many, many times where I wish we could have talked about your life.

I hold on to the good things, and I am grateful that towards the end you were open with me in a way you’d never before been, with anyone. I know you show up for re when I need you and that, despite never saying it out loud, you were proud of me

As time passes, and healing continues, all I am left with are the tiny moments that make me miss you deeply. The way you woke up early at Christmas. The smell of your freshly baked buns. Exchanging little glances and laughing with each other. like we were the only ones in the room. How you took care of Kitty, even when you claimed to hate cats.

I hope that, above all else, you know the depth of my love for you and my desire to reclaim all that was stolen from you. I know you are so much more than your trauma, and I wish I knew who you were beyond it. I forgive you, and I love you.

A Letter to Survivors and their Kin

I want to start off by saying this- my heart is with you.

No matter how much time passes, and how much effort we put into healing, it never gets any easier. I know that seeing images of residential school sites bring up a lot of complex emotions, and no matter how subtly or gently the subject is broached, it’s never less traumatic

Despite these pieces being immensely personal, I want to acknowledge that these things don’t happen in a vacuum. I have yet to meet an Indigenous person whose family hasn’t been affected by the residential school system. No matter how deeply and differently these experiences affect our family members, they also connect us to each other.

I wish so deeply that things were different. I long for a day when we are free to create, laugh, connect, and speak without constantly having these horrible experiences overshadow what we do.

I long for a future where we are seen as the beautiful, complex people we are – we are so much more than what we’ve endured. We are so much more than “strong” or “resilient”. We should be allowed to be messy, make mistakes, and exist without having our lives questioned, debated, or scrutinized.

I want us to be free from the confines of a colonial system that was enforced upon us against our will. I want a future where we are able to reach our full potential, where our families are whole, where we are not left to wonder what point we serve in all of this.

There is so much love in my heart for each and every one of our kin whether we are members of the same Nation or not, we are family, and we are not alone.

Resources

Hope For Wellness (for Indigenous kin):
1-855-242-3310 hopeforwellness.ca

Indian Residential School Survivors Society:
1-800-721-0066

Crisis & Anxiety Text Line:
Anxiety: Text CONNECT to 741741
Crisis: Text HOME to 741741

To talk with a mental health professional:
1-866-585-0445 or text WELLNESS to 741741 (Youth: Text 686868)