An experiment unfolding across text and image, Jordan Abel’s Dad Era reflects on fatherhood, place, and memory-making.

Dad Era is a work of poetry, nonfiction, and collage that brings my artwork together with my dad’s traditional Nisga’a artwork–it’s also a reflection on parenthood, Indigeneity, and belonging. Shortly after I became a father, I began to feel as though my relationship to my work had changed substantively in some way, and that my engagements with intergenerational trauma, urban Indigeneity, and the problematic aspects of nationalism had all taken on new dimensions since my daughter Phoenix was born. I had a feeling, particularly when thinking about my work NISHGA, that it was work that would be valuable to my daughter because it would provide her a place to begin. While Phoenix will inevitably need to find her way to her own questions, some of the questions that I had to struggle to find answers to will already be there for her. When I began to work on Dad Era, I wanted to shift the focus away from the really difficult subject matter of my previous writings, and instead to write towards Indigenous joy. The work here is meant to be serious sometimes, but also lighthearted. When I read these pieces aloud they make me laugh. A big part of this project for me was to find a way to talk about things that were true, but also to find a way to laugh about those things, to bring my joy of parenthood into a space that can be shared. - Jordan Abel

For Phoenix & Chelsea

“Welcome to the world, dear [son/daughter name]!”
Anonymous

A dad is a parent is a human.

I have this crazy idea that I could never escape my father’s shadow.

A dad is garbage is gone.

First, my father disappeared and then my mother abandoned all rational thought. 

It was my father who told me nothing.

To be creative. To be loving. To be generous and kind and human were all lessons that I learned alone in the snow.

A black-and-white two-dimensional, partly faded image of a bird. Text along its silhouette reads "Welcome to the world, dear [son/daughter] name!

You are a fireball.

You are a being of infinite love. 

A friend once said to me “fuck dads.”

Did you know that being alone is sometimes terrifying?

A black-and-white two-dimensional image that is partly abstract, but suggests both a face and the outline of a frog. Text along its periphery reads "I would climb mountains, sail seas, and cross deserts just to make you happy, my [son/daughter]."

If a dad exists or doesn’t exist can we still be whole?

If a dad falls over in the middle of the woods will anyone still be able to hear his jokes? 

You are a cyclone.

If I’ve learned one lesson in all of this, it’s that you are a whole world.

A black-and-white two-dimensional image that is partly abstract, but suggests a bird. In one section of the image, we see a fragment of a black-and-white photograph, with trees in front of a building. Text along its periphery reads "A son is the clearest reflection of his father in the world. Your happiness is my bliss, my [son/daughter]."

I am a human being and I have made more mistakes than I can count. 

Rely on yourself.

Love for yourself should be eternal and everlasting. 

You are brilliant and shining and the brightest star in the sky. 

Did you know that you can be a contestant on Master Chef Jr if you want?

A black-and-white two-dimensional image that is partly abstract, but suggests a face. Three sections of the image include fragments of black-and-white photographs, showing water, a cliff face, and a shore. Text along its periphery reads "The love of a daughter for her father is second to none. Daughters reach for their father's guiding hand their entire life."

A dad is vapour. 

A dad is a person that gives all of himself to himself.

You shape and reshape me every day.

A black-and-white two-dimensional image in the shape of a half moon, with a face in profile. Four sections of the image include fragments of black-and-white photographs, some featuring buildings with trees superimposed. Text along its periphery reads "The birthday of my child is my favourite day because it's the day I became a dad."

I’ve learned from you what Indigenous knowledge transmission is supposed to look like.

Did you know that I’m not NDN enough for some but too NDN for others?

I’m a world away from you eating a croissant in a popular bakery in Paris and I’m not afraid to admit
that I’d rather just be by your side at home in Edmonton.

To be honest, it’s hard to imagine a world where you and I don’t exist together.

A black-and-white photograph spread across two adjacent, abstract, rounded shapes. The superimposed images show the interior of a train station and an industrial port. Along their peripheries a text reads: "To be creative. To be loving. To be generous and kind and human were all lessons that I learned alone in the snow. You are a fireball. You are a being of infinite love."

A parent is a person who wears jeans. 

You are a small child named Phoenix.

Sometimes parents are people who write books.

When I look at you I see a whole world.

A hero is a concept.

A father used to be a child.

You have shown me what the world looks like when we open our eyes.

A black-and-white photograph spread across two adjacent, abstract, rounded shapes. The superimposed images show the interior of a train station and an industrial port. Along their peripheries a text reads: "To be creative. To be loving. To be generous and kind and human were all lessons that I learned alone in the snow. You are a fireball. You are a being of infinite love."

Bright children are those that sometimes see themselves in the mirror.

You and I sometimes share one heart.

Maybe it’s true that I would climb a mountain just to see you smile, Phoenix.

As a person, I have not been the same since you came into my life.

I am no expert in racial passing but I do know that declining invitations to the Calgary Stampede is one the strangest things I’ve ever had to do in my life.

A black and white superimposed photograph in a single, bean-like shape. The image shows a sidewalk barrier and its shadow, crossed by the shadow of a human. A text running along its periphery and upwards reads "I am a human being and I have made more mistakes than I can count. Rely on yourself. Love for yourself should be eternal and everlasting. You are brilliant and shining and the brightest star in the sky."

Your mom and I are two human beings.

No matter where you are I will promise to exist in your life.

Did you know that I am astounded by your presence?

I don’t know if I can teach you calculus but I can teach you how to write an erasure poem with a sharpie and our copy of Shakespeare’s collected works.

Did you know that on the day you were born I saw the odometer on our Civic click over from 99,999km to 100,000km and I thought to myself what an amazing day.

A black and white superimposed photograph in a single, rounded shape. The image shows buildings in a city, and public transit cables.. A text running along its periphery and downwards reads "A parent is a person who wears jeans. You are a small child named Phoenix. Sometimes parents are people who write books. When I look at you I see a whole world"

A day is a month is a year.

Sometimes I am beside myself.

The thing about having a Nisga’a parent and a white parent is that both of us will be equally excited to see the new Wes Anderson film.

A person can sometimes learn from another person.

A gender binary can be exploded.

A heart is a cloud is a heart.

A black-and-white photograph spread across two adjacent, abstract, rounded shapes. The superimposed images show the interior and exterior of a train station. Along their peripheries and extending downwards a text reads: "You have shown me what the world looks like when we open our eyes. Bright children are those that sometimes see themselves in the mirror. You and I sometimes share one heart. Maybe it's true that I would climb a mountain just to see you smile, Phoenix. As a person, I have not been the same since you came into my life.

Sometimes I used to be afraid and now I eat fear for breakfast.

As you open your eyes in the morning and begin to remember where you are, can you hear the sound of the highway on the outskirts of this subdivision?