For his exhibition, Greg Staats: Runners Continuum, the artist participated in a conversation with the Art Gallery of Hamilton’s Melissa Bennett (Senior Curator of Contemporary Art) and Celia Vernal (Lead of Public Programs) to explore the nuanced meanings within his lens-based works.
Q: Greg, what inspired you to take on the perspective of the Hodinöhsö:ni’ runner for this series?
The inspiration for this work arose from a desire to position myself within the worldview of the Hodinöhsö:ni’ runners—individuals with a complete knowledge of the language and the sacred responsibility of delivering messages. I sought to engage from within a visual language that could contextualize the metaphors referenced in the Great Law of Peace and the Creation Story. My focus was on a particular timeframe: post–Great Law of Peace and pre-settler contact, a period when the five founding nations of the Hodinöhsö:ni’ were evolving and functioning autonomously.
As I began gathering images, this idea emerged from the intuitive repetition that photography enables—a way of documenting feelings that evoke belonging. Placemaking here becomes an act of memorializing the space and time of my own journey of remembering and recovering. The photographs become part of a continuum of transmission: from the breath of the spoken language, to oral tradition, embodied wampum, pictorial forms, photographic memory, and finally the electronic signals of video.
This is the Hodinöhsö:ni’ runners’ continuum of relational placemaking—a cyclical return that holds within it the memorialized oral and physical responsibilities of delivering sacred messages while moving through land, body, and memory. The use of embodied wampum—quahog and whelk shells, mediums of truth—further grounds this transmission in the intention of recording the heart and good mind of the Hodinöhsö:ni’.
Q: How do you define the “Good Mind”?
Alongside the recovery of core values, the visual metaphors found in the Great Law of Peace serve as ceremonial references—particularly to condolence and the restoration of the Good Mind, understood as mental well-being. These metaphors guide us toward clarity in decision-making for the benefit of future generations. This is what I refer to as a restorative aesthetic: a way of being and seeing that, as Hodinöhsö:ni’, we strive to uphold and share. At the heart of the Great Law of Peace is the principle of the Good Mind—a mind that is clear, unclouded by negativity, and free from harmful energies, so that decisions may be made with vision, responsibility, and care.
Q: How do you decide what to photograph? Is it an intuitive process? Do you craft your narratives before or after you take your photographs?
I begin by positioning myself within a specific place of memory—either on the reserve, in a white pine grove, or at a familiar site such as the three-acre property of my childhood home. From there, I return to visit and re-photograph trees, engaging in what I call wandering with purpose. This is a practice of activating memory and drawing upon the traditional knowledge I’ve accumulated over 40 years of research and photography. These walks often lead me to other locations on the reserve, guided by intuition and remembrance.
There’s a natural repetition in the interplay of shadow and light that I’m consistently drawn to—especially when the subject evokes teachings I’ve encountered over the years. In these moments, the image becomes a direct cultural metaphor, while also fulfilling my technical considerations of tonality, separation, and acutance.
The process of editing and assemblage now comes to me intuitively. With the continual guidance of ancestral knowledge, I’m able to construct visual sentences that speak to the senses and memories of the viewer—integrating sight, feeling, and cultural resonance.
Q: How has your journey of gathering ancestral knowledge, through knowledge keepers, influenced the way you create art?
The journey of gathering ancestral knowledge is marked by many footsteps, each carrying personal insights that guide me on the path to recovering my authentic self. This journey leads toward a deeper immersion in a Hodinöhsö:ni’ worldview—a complete acceptance and reminder of my existence within creation, along with the roles, values, and responsibilities that come with it.
Q: What do you hope audiences take away from your work/your practice?
There is an overall awareness of reflection, observation, and visiting practices through which Onkwehonwe retain and transmit knowledge. Each image, each series, and the constellation of all works exhibited invite the viewer into a deeper immersion. The intention is to evoke recognition of their own memories and relationships to land, language, and responsibility.
Q: Who are your Indigenous teachers; which knowledge keepers have you learned with along your journey?
Hodinöhsö:ni’ scholars, linguists, Faithkeepers, and Traditional Teachers. I began working with Jake Thomas in the mid-1970s at the Education Department of the Woodland Indian Cultural and Educational Centre. More recently, I had the opportunity to work with Alfred Keye until his passing. Currently, I am working with Tehahenteh (Franklin W. Miller) from Six Nations.
Our current focus is language exploration. I’m drawing parallels between my visual language and the intuitive way I gather images. The syllables and the layered meanings they carry—along with how words are constructed—create a portal, an entry point into a deeper, interconnected understanding. This is especially powerful when certain syllables reference elements such as the bow, the sound it makes, or concepts like song and voice. These linguistic pathways—of thought, vibration, and frequency—are what I’m learning through the language and integrating into my creative process. They guide me toward visual representations that carry the energy of renewal and movement forward.
Q: If someone approaches your work without knowledge of the histories you explore, what is the one thing you hope they take away from their experience?
I create art for myself and for those who share my background and experiences. My audience has always been specific—not narrow or exclusive, but deeply rooted in shared understanding and lived knowledge.
I began studying the history of photography at 19 and became deeply immersed in it. Over time, social justice photography and other documentary forms also became influential in shaping my perspective. I’ve carried those early influences into my current practice, which now serves as a documentary approach to personal and cultural recovery.
The positionality of being a photographer is complex. On one hand, I document; on the other, I create art. At this stage in my career, I’m focused on creating for a specific community—one that recognizes and resonates with the nuances of this work. Photography is often a solitary practice. There are stretches when I don’t speak to anyone for days, fully immersed in the process of making and reflecting on images. Yet in that solitude, photography holds a unique power: it gathers, reflects, and expresses gratitude. As a medium, it carries a universal truth—one that speaks even when words fall away.
Greg Staats: Runners Continuum is on show at the Art Gallery of Hamilton until May 18, 2025.
