Self Portrait as a Canadian, 2008

26 x 30", 30 x 35", pigmented inkjet print

In Self Portrait as a Canadian, I sit in a frozen oval, bordered by icicles, with only an A.J. Casson tree for company.  This work examines my identity as a Canadian living in the United States.  It also explores sentiments of the U.S. towards Canada, in general, and particularly following the terrorist attacks of 2001.

For the most part, Canada is invisible to many Americans.  It is a frozen tundra, speckled with igloos and mounted police, somewhere north of Michigan, Minnesota, and Montana.  Following 9/11 it became a scapegoat.  In an apocryphal claim that persists to this day, there are still some Americans who view Canada as the country that hosted the 9/11 terrorists before they entered the U.S. 

In this work, the balaclava operates on both practical and symbolic levels.  It is a sensible garment for cold environments, allowing the wearer comfort.  It also erodes visual identity.  Its ability to do this – to disguise – has made it a symbol of ill-intent, representative of a terrorist, a burglar, or a fiend. 

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