Fillip

Circle of Life Thunderbird House: A Symbol of Change
Ryan Gorrie

The Thunderbird or animikii is one of the most respected beings in Anishinaabe culture as well as that of other Indigenous nations. Symbolic of change, power, and the connection between sky and earth, Thunderbirds are revered as messengers, bringers of seasons, and givers of life. Being in constant battle with the great serpents—spirits of the underground and underwater—Thunderbirds provide humankind with a balance of forces and a reminder of the significance of the other-than-human beings.

Designed by the pre-eminent Indigenous architect Douglas Cardinal and completed in 2001, Circle of Life Thunderbird House (CLTBH) is a modest version of Cardinal’s signature curvilinear stylistic approach. The building has four doorways, honouring the four directions, a clerestory skylight to highlight the sky realm, and a fireplace at the centre, signalling the earthward direction. In this way, CLTBH draws consistent flowing energies from the seen and unseen and acts as an armature for community gathering. CLTBH’s features include a wooden structure and wall treatments and a star-blanket-patterned tile floor at the centre surrounded by hardwood flooring. The feeling when one enters is of warmth and the importance of the space; visitors are asked to remove their footwear to respect the materials. The circular roof form, on which a bird-like hyper effigy rests, acts as the main exterior expression, linking the clerestory and supporting beams. The copper on the roof extends the importance of this metal to Indigenous nations, as water and copper are linked culturally. The choice of copper also contrasts with the nearby Fort Garry Hotel and other grandiose colonial structures whose green-patinaed copper domes—a form ubiquitous throughout Kanata—signal seats of colonial power. By further contrast, CLTBH’s modest setting and profile lends itself to a grassroots mentality.

CLTBH finds itself at the centre of a reclamation movement initiated by the Neeginan Village concept (1970s), with aspirations to create housing, services, and economic development for Indigenous people. CLTBH signals a culturally significant physical manifestation, creating a constant place of Indigenous presence. The multi-use space accommodates meetings, ceremonies, rallies, funerals, and celebrations at a multitude of scales, supporting the diversity of Indigenous ways of gathering. Much like the central fire within CLTBH, the building brings Indigeneity to the urban context in an unambiguous way through form and material—as well as through its programming and central location.

Today, the building (and landscape) stands weathered by time and use, with recent remedial roof repairs to stave off further damage. A seemingly struggling institution, CLTBH endures and leverages community support as its foundation. Current adjacent development has seen the recent demolition of the exterior Sweat Lodge area and supporting structures to make way for a reconfigured village concept, designed by Cibinel Architecture, that will create housing and supports for the local community. Additionally, a space designed by Bridgman Architecture will provide relief for those seeking washroom facilities. Poised on the southwest corner of Henry and Main Streets near CLTBH, this new construction signifies the importance and advocacy of safe places to go for people of the area.

CLTBH, like many of our traditional structures, awaits activation—the animacy of ceremony and gathering are the true powers that enliven architecture. Our languages are action based and so too are our world views as Anishinaabeg. I like to think of architecture as a framework from which to act out our lives: it supports and enhances action, and good architecture makes experiences memorable and meaningful. When we pick our medicines, we sever their connection to the earth, but we leave an offering, a promise to use (and activate) the power of the medicine through fire, water, and ceremony for the betterment of ourselves, families, communities, and nations. Circle of Life Thunderbird House is like this process—awaiting action and activation.1

——

It was architect David Thomas who first toured Nango through Circle of Life Thunderbird House, speaking about its traditional form as an important visible presence for Indigenous culture in Point Douglas, a neighbourhood in Winnipeg with a large Indigenous population. CLTBH is highly visible, situated at the corner of Main Street and Higgins Avenue along a well-travelled commuter and industrial driving route that crosses the city. Across the busy intersection is the Centre for Youth Excellence, built by Youth for Christ in 2012 without community consultation and nefariously fundraised through CentreVenture Development Corporation, an arm’s-length development agency of the City of Winnipeg.2 This building, situated in a predominately Indigenous neighbourhood, is well funded, while CLTBH is grossly neglected, despite the architectural beauty and cultural significance of Cardinal’s structure. Beyond this lack of governmental support, CLTBH has been a site for vandalism and its copper flashing is a target for thieves. But even as Circle of Life Thunderbird House falls into disrepair, it has been used as political fodder in recent mayoral elections, cited by a candidate as an essential cultural site deserving of “reverence.”3

This co-option of Indigenous place-making in civic politics in Winnipeg is also being played out through the Kapyong Barracks. A union of seven Indigenous nations, collectively known as Treaty One Nation,4 will take over and develop 68 percent of the once federally held property, which houses the abandoned Canadian military barracks. Empty since 2004, the site was finally returned to the Indigenous nations in 2022. The development team for what will become Naawi-Oodena—Canada’s largest urban reserve—includes Dave Thomas. The nearly seventy-hectare site will combine residential and commercial interests, including recreational facilities and a community centre. The generated revenue from these combined zonings will go to related Indigenous communities.

The following conversation between Nango and Thomas occurred in the summer of 2021. In it, they discuss Indigenous architectures and processes that move beyond the building, characterization, and representation of Indigenous symbols as the bases of Indigenous design. Thomas remarks on several examples of a more reflective process of Indigenous place-making that comes from self-governance, collaboration, and Indigenous Protocols, while Nango posits the role of architect within Indigenous communities as one of humbleness.