The Camrose and District Centennial Museum, a heritage museum established in 1967, is one of many museums in Alberta that, according to the Alberta Museums Project, “celebrate the history of the region with a series of exhibitions about its founders, early settlement, agriculture, and pioneers” and that “conform to a white colonial narrative, noting how immigrants to the region overcame its harsh conditions to create farms, small businesses, and industries” (http://albertamuseumsproject.com/). For the purposes of our project, we are calling these museums “pioneer museums” to call attention to this colonial narrative, including the myth that European settlers in North America were among the first to inhabit the land. Of course we know that these land were already populated, and in the case of Camrose and its surroundings, the land was inhabited by the Blackfoot Confederacy (the Siksikaitsitapi), and by Tsuut’ina, Stoney Nakoda, Cree, Saulteaux, and Métis people when white Europeans began settling in the area.

In this paper, I discuss how the model of the public museum that took hold in the 19th century shapes pioneer museums, and about the particular history and characteristics of Camrose’s pioneer museum. Next, I’ll talk about the work that our project team is doing to “unsettle” pioneer museums in Alberta, including a new set of displays, a website, and community workshops. 

Public Museums and the Camrose and District Centennial Museum

In an influential article published in the journal Art History in December 1980, Carol Duncan and Alan Wallach describe the public museums that proliferated in the 19th century as “universal survey museums.” They give the Louvre in Paris and the Metropolitan Museum of New York as prime examples, and we can add to this list with the many institutions that opened in Britainand its colonies during the 19th century and into the 20th century, such as the National Gallery of London, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Tate Gallery, many city art galleries across the UK, as well as Canadian institutions such as the National Gallery of Canada, provincial galleries and museums across Canada, and small town and rural museums like those in Alberta and other Canadian provinces.

According to Duncan and Wallach, these museums’ architecture and displays provide a script for visitors to follow, prompting them “to enact and thereby to internalize the values and beliefs written into the [museum’s] script” (450-451). One of these beliefs is that, because the museum’s collection belongs “to all” in a particular country, city, town, or region, it follows that there exists a corresponding unified public with a shared identity. In museums like the one in Camrose, for example, a visit to the museum reinforces a belief that there is a shared history that unites the inhabitants of the area.

Our research shows that this belief in a shared history motivated those who worked to establish Camrose’s museum. The museum opened in 1967, on the occasion of Canada’s centennial celebrations, taking advantage of government funds available for centennial projects. So we can see that in its founding and in its name (as a “centennial museum”), the museum celebrates Canada. But the specific purpose of the museum was to celebrate the histories and heritage of Camrose and its surrounding area, and it was with this goal in mind that the Camrose and District Museum Society (CDMS) met for the first time, on January 24, 1964. In the first few years of meeting, the society discussed the themes to be treated by the museum; learned from other museums and historical societies in Alberta; came up with strategies for collecting artifacts; and worked towards finding a site for the museum.

Four years after their first meeting, and six months after the museum’s official opening on July 1, 1967, the Society’s President reported that “the theme of our first show was to depict the way of life of the early settlers of this area with some highlights on articles particular to some ethnic groups” (31 January 1968, Minutes of the Annual Meeting). Handwritten notes in the museum’s archives show that the display included three different “ethnic displays” (which is how they are listed by Mrs. Bosman, the volunteer in charge of the displays): a Scandinavian display, a Ukrainian display, and a German display (Mrs. Bosman’s Display Record, 1970). Mrs. Bosman listed displays of “local history” separately, naming “a miscellaneous collection of native Indian artifacts”; “story and artifacts re. Father Bellevaire–pioneer missionary of this region”; and “story of skiing in Camrose.” The President’s report from 1968 also informs us that there were displays that he considered “common to all groups” like “the locomotives” (which Mrs. Bosman included under the category of “Communications” and described as “Mr. Davidson’s engine displays and story of transportation”) and “the threshing outfit” (which Mrs.Bosman categorized on its own as “Mr. Graham’s harvesting machinery”).

A picture of Camrose and its heritage emerges here, divided into three categories: ethnic items that white European settlers brought with them to the Camrose area; pioneer items used by those European settlers as part of their lives in the Camrose area; and native items that were understood to pre-date the arrival of European settlers (which I’ll call Indigenous items in line with current terminology).

There are a few points to note about these three categories:

1. They all revolve around the lives of white, European settlers. This is reinforced by Mrs. Bosman’s description of the museum’s second cycle of displays in 1968, which she described as “an attempt to portray the history of this district before and after the arrival of the white man” (Mrs. Bosman’s Display Record, 1970).

2. With some exceptions, the ethnic and pioneer items were sourced from the community, whereas most Indigenous objects were on loan from neighbouring institutions such as the Glenbow in Calgary. (The Glenbow lent “Indian artifacts” in 1967; items for a display on “hunting for survival by the natives” in 1968; “Indian handicrafts” in 1969; and “Eskimo art and artifacts” in 1970. One exception to the ethnic displays is the Ukrainian display from 1967 lent by the Edmonton Museum, now the Royal Alberta Museum).

Later, as we will see, some Indigenous items entered the collection when they were brought to the museum by European-descended settlers who found them while farming their lands. It’s worth noting (though it’s not surprising) that at no point were Indigenous communities or individuals who were recognized as Indigenous consulted about the collection.

3. While the category of the ethnic artifact gets attention in the years leading up to the museum’s opening and is named in the Society’s minutes as an important theme of the museum (e.g. 17 Nov 1965; 9 Feb 1966), its importance as an organizing principle appears to fade away after the museum’s opening. For example, Mrs. Bosman’s display record shows a clear distinction between local history and ethnic displays in 1967, but in 1968 there is no mention of ethnic displays. Instead, we see an emphasis on pioneers in displays on “Early Settlers and their skills” and “Prized possessions of Pioneers,” and a distinction made between settler objects and Indigenous objects in the display named “Tools of Indian [sic.] and Tools of Settlers.”

Though the Society’s meeting minutes are recorded (seemingly) dutifully into 1971, the last reference to a so-called ethnic item comes on 24 April 1969, when it is noted that “the large Norwegian flag offered by Mrs. Arndt Nelson will be gratefully received, with the understanding that the curators display it where and when they see fit, e.g. in an ethnic display.” During that same meeting, it was noted that during the summer of 1969, the museum’s display cases “will house the following displays: Pioneer Handicraft, Indian Handicraft, Trading, Skills, Drug and Medical, Mercantile, Toys. The pioneer kitchen and living room will be improved.” Ethnic displays are nowhere to be found, and we might read between the lines of the previous note that the curators insist not only on where and when to display such an object, but also on their prerogative to not display it at all.

So by 1969, the emphasis of the Camrose museum’s displays was on the shared history and heritage of the area’s white European settlers, which was sometimes placed side-by-side or contrasted with objects representing an Indigenous culture that was set apart as pre-dating the current day-to-day realities of the area. In many ways, this is still what was on display at the museum when we began working on this project in the Fall of 2021.

Now that we’ve talked about the various categories established through the Camrose museum’s displays, I want to note that this logic of dividing items into categories is also a defining characteristic of the public, universal survey museum. As described by Duncan and Wallach, the ritual of visiting the public museum is organized around identifying and learning about the various categories on display. Through this process, the visitor comes to understand the contents of the museum, and it is through this understanding that they come to (ideally) feel that they belong (456). But, as Duncan and Wallach point out, “there is almost always a contradiction between the ideal visitor as defined by the museum and the actual visitor” (457).

Unsettling the Pioneer Museum

This contradiction between the ideal and the actual visitor is one that our project seeks to address. While the museum’s earliest advocates were dedicated to building a collection of artifacts and settling those items into particular categories, we see our project as dedicated to unsettling those categories by unfixing the items from established narratives surrounding Camrose’s history and heritage, narratives that are held in common with other pioneer museums. As team member Lianne McTavish described in her book Voluntary Detours: Small Town and Rural Museums in Alberta (MQUP, 2021), “pioneer museums appeared to convey the same stories with similar objects arranged in a predictable manner” (195). But her research also prompted her “to see pioneer museums differently by searching for ruptures in their largely colonial narratives while looking for signs of Indigenous people in unexpected places” (195).

One of the findings that came out of McTavish’s earlier research was that the concept of the pioneer was more flexible than she had imagined, with pioneer associations like NAPOTA (Northern Alberta Pioneers and Old Timers’ Association) expanding their definition of the term in order to maintain and even grow their association in the face of an aging membership and a growing population of more recent arrivals (197). Significantly, McTavish found that Indigenous people, and Métis people in particular, “were central to early displays of pioneer life well into the twentieth century” (198). With this in mind, we delved into the Camrose museum’s collections, looking for traces of Indigenous presence or of other people or communities who are not typically included in the pioneer narrative.

As part of our research, I reviewed the Society’s minutes, which helped us understand the early history of the museum and the process through which its categories were established, which I’ve described above. I was particularly struck by the use of the term “ethnic” and the way that this term could shift over time, similarly to the way that the category of the “pioneer” also shifts over time. At the same time, we could put these shifting terms side-by-side with the shifts in language used to describe Indigenous peoples in Canada. Whereas the museum society’s minutes and the museum’s early displays referred to Indigenous objects as “Native” or “Indian” artifacts, here I refer to them as Indigenous items. However, this broad terminology is still inadequate, as it ignores the enormous diversity of cultures, histories, and communities that the term encompasses and that such items represent. All three categories were thus inadequate and had to be reconsidered. While I reviewed the minutes, McTavish went through all the museum’s acquisition and gift records, taking note of any objects that might help us rethink those dominant categories and unsettle entrenched narratives. We also spent time looking through the collections for objects that may have escaped our notice if we relied only on written records.

McTavish and I are both white, European descendents and recent arrivals to Alberta, so the histories we are exploring in this project are not our own stories, and this was an important consideration for us as we moved forward with our work. At the Camrose Museum, we worked alongside community volunteers who run the museum, discussing with them possibilities for displays and depending on their knowledge of the collection as part of our research.

We also had three additional collaborators: Skye Haggerty, a Métis scholar and graduate student in art history; Dr. Erin Sutherland, a Métis scholar and professor of art history with expertise in Indigenous contemporary art and curatorial practice; and Dr. Willow White, a Métis scholar and professor of English literature. Haggerty took the lead in creating a display focused on Métis material culture—one that would not pit so-called native objects against pioneer objects, but would instead call attention to the specificity of Métis culture and to the labour of Métis communities in the area surrounding Camrose. Significantly, many of the items that Haggerty included in the display had not been identified as Métis in the museum’s records, and so her work on this display challenges the museum’s pre-existing categories. (See the display here.)

All five of us (McTavish, Haggerty, Sutherland, White, and I) collaborated on a display that featured souvenir objects created by Indigenous makers, which included beaded objects as well as two dreamcatchers. By gathering these objects together, sharing knowledge, and engaging in conversation, we were able to learn more about these objects and about the role they played in Camrose’s heritage. We were particularly struck by two picture frames that had previously hung on the wall of a house on the museum’s grounds. I learned that the beadwork was typical of the style practiced by Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe people in the Niagara Region. A text panel that accompanied our display explained that colonial settlement in that region increased following the War of 1812, at which point “First Nations Peoples were forced onto Reserves, their ceremonies were banned, and their traditional economies were halted.”

The text, written collaboratively by McTavish, Haggerty, and Sutherland, notes that “one way that Indigenous communities participated in the capitalist, colonial economy was through inventing, producing, and selling souvenir goods, at fairs, exhibitions, and tourist sites.” They explain that travellers from Camrose who visited Niagara Falls, a popular tourist site during the 19th century, purchased these beaded souvenirs and later donated them to the museum. As our exhibition text points out, these souvenirs deliberately appealed to Victorian tastes, and they are also “a testament to the skill and ingenuity of Indigenous women who found ways to support their families during a bleak period, when colonial laws limited their physical movement and economic opportunities.”

The story that we ended up telling about these souvenir objects went beyond categorizing them as pioneer items (which they were, since they represented the ways that settlers had engaged with their surroundings and decorated their homes) or as Indigenous items (which they were, since they were made by Haudenosaunee or Anishinaabe women). Rather, the text considers what these objects can tell us about the relationships between people and cultures, and about a shared heritage-in-the-making. That shared heritage is marked by colonial repression and violence, and by extreme imbalances of power, and this was something that we sought to bring to the surface. (See the display here.)

Another display that Haggerty is working on centres on the collection of arrowheads in the museum’s collection that European settlers found while farming. That European farmers brought such objects to the museum demonstrates that they understood them as special objects worthy of preservation. (And there were also notices published in the local newspaper announcing these finds, providing further evidence that these finds were considered special.) 

That the museum took these objects in, categorized them as “Indigenous,” and put them on display as representative of a distant past aligns with the ways that Indigenous peoples and cultures have been represented in museums. And it’s also noteworthy that while these arrowheads got the attention of Camrose’s early community, the Indigenous people who continued to be present in the area were not mentioned or consulted when such items were found.

The museum’s current community volunteers wanted to include the arrowheads in the new displays since they viewed these objects as providing a way to include Indigenous presence in the museum’s narratives—something that we were all eager to do. But we were concerned that the arrowheads would contribute to the same old narrative that relegated undifferentiated Indigenous peoples to the distant past, especially because we have no way to date these arrowheads or identify them as belonging to any one particular community.

In discussing the arrowheads, Haggerty shared that a Métis family member had often talked about finding dozens such arrowheads in Edmonton’s River Valley, suggesting that while the arrowheads might seem “special,” they were not unique or rare. Another project collaborator, Heather Caverhill, pointed out that these arrowheads provide evidence that these lands were already inhabited before the arrival of early settlers. Instead of confirming the pioneer narrative, then, the arrowheads might help us challenge that narrative in a new way.

Rather than showing a selection of arrowheads in a typical museological display, we decided to put all of the museum’s arrowheads on display together in order to demonstrate their ubiquity. Haggerty proposed that instead of just piling them up, she could arrange them into a representation of a landscape in order to make the point visually that these arrowheads and the labour they represent are embedded in the land, and furthermore, that the cultures and peoples they represent are (and have always been) a fundamental part of our cultural landscape. This display would also have the advantage of rejecting European-derived curatorial approaches that are reliant on the modes of display of the Universal Survey Museum. Instead of being reliant on classification and comparison, Haggerty’s approach asks for a different kind of engagement on the part of visitors—one that is potentially more open-ended, allowing visitors to follow a new script and determine for themselves how they might relate to the display’s potential narratives.

Another member of our team, Mary Pinkoski (a poet, museum educator, and doctoral student in education at the University of Alberta), has led workshops at each of our three museum sites. In these workshops, community members came together to challenge the pioneer narrative in creative and exploratory ways. Participants created collages and poetry based on words and phrases available to them within the museum’s spaces, reflected on what their collages and poetry revealed about the museum and its representations of the pioneer, and then worked to create new definitions of “the pioneer” that built on what they have learned through the workshop. (For more information about these workshops, visit our resources page.)

By pursuing this work—the displays, workshops, and this website—we hope to provide a model for how community-based organizations can begin to unsettle the pioneer narratives that have shaped their own local spaces.