The question of time

Jeffrey Gibson, an artist of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw and Cherokee descent, made history at the 60th Venice Biennale, where he was the first Indigenous artist to represent the United States in a solo exhibition. His exhibition, the space in which to place me, is an immersive installation that captures his unique approach to contemporary Indigenous identity, blending vibrant colours with profound cultural references. Gibson’s work draws on a wide range of influences, from Indigenous traditions to pop culture, using diverse media like sculpture, paintings, and multimedia installations to engage with themes of colonialism, identity, and resilience. 

hube: Your work blends Native American traditions with contemporary art. How do you navigate and balance these cultural elements in your creations?

Jeffrey Gibson: It’s a constant process of thoughtfulness. I think a lot about how Native American audiences will read what I make, and how other Indigenous people will perceive it. I want to challenge how materials are used while acknowledging the inventiveness of those who came before me – those who worked with new materials coming into our communities, going back hundreds of years. I’m inspired by that ingenuity, even though we may not know the names of those makers. I try to think of them as creative individuals making decisions with what is available to them. At the same time, there are materials and forms in Native American traditions that I wouldn’t touch, as they are meant for the community, not the individual. My goal is to expand the way Indigenous people are viewed and how we see ourselves.

h: Artists have always had a unique relationship with time – the past, present and future. Which of these divisions of time are important in your work? And in what priority would you place them? 

JG: It shifts for me. I’ve been working for about 25 years now, and I’d say the present has been the most significant. When I was younger, I found the present tense to be very clouded – maybe even trauma-fueled. But using the past to understand the present helps me envision the future. Recently, I’ve become increasingly interested in the past, particularly pre-Columbian Indigenous art – going back hundreds of years, looking at how we exchanged and influenced each other before contact.

h: In a world still dominated by Western and white cultural perspectives, what should museums and institutions do to better represent Native American and Indigenous communities?

JG: It’s not as simple as being told what to do. Institutions genuinely want to be inclusive, but they need to understand that Indigenous people are not a monolith. There are hundreds of tribal nations, and using blanket terms like ‘Native American’ or ‘American Indian’ flattens the rich diversity of these communities. Institutions need to learn about these differences, and then make decisions based on that understanding. Yes, mistakes will happen, but that’s how growth occurs. It’s a process, and I’m in favour of giving space for this kind of complexity. It’s not the most practical approach, but it’s what I believe in.

h: In your experience as a museum educator and artist, how do you think institutions can better represent Native American and Indigenous perspectives?

JG: The first step is to make contact with Indigenous communities. Building genuine relationships takes time – it’s not immediate. Trust has to be nurtured. People need to ask what Indigenous communities want to see and how they want to be represented. Once those personal relationships are in place, the learning process becomes more effective. It’s not just about reading or intellectualising; it’s about real, human connections.

h: During the 20th century, art acquired an extensive audience and became an important part of social relations. Today, artists strive to create works that can be readily understood by many, not only by specialists and connoisseurs. What expectations do you have of your work’s dialogue with its audience?

JG: For me, it’s about legibility versus illegibility. I’ve been experimenting with this concept, especially after my experience at the Venice Biennale. Legibility is immediate – it’s pop cultural and graphic, but as I grow older and more experienced, I find myself leaning toward the less legible, more subjective aspects of my work. I want my art to feel more blurry, more mixed. It’s about creating an emotional, atmospheric abstraction that allows the viewer to connect in their own way.

h: You have a history of collaborative works, such as your project with the Portland Art Museum. What do you find most fulfilling about these collaborations, and how do they influence your artistic process?

JG: The generosity of Indigenous communities in collaborations has been amazing. Over the past 2 years, I’ve worked with over 150 individuals, and the conversations have been incredibly enriching. These collaborations expand the way I think about my identity as a Native American and about the Native community as a whole. They allow me to explore unique individual stories and perspectives. It’s given me more freedom in my own work, and it’s a reminder that art isn’t just a solitary pursuit – it’s shaped by others, too.

h: Music plays a significant role in your art, from the Pet Shop Boys to house music. How does music influence your visual art, and what stories are you telling through this integration?

JG: I’ve moved from being interested in pop music’s melody to focusing more on the sound itself – the parts we often overlook, the aspects that aren’t immediately catchy. Sound has become a form of my work. It’s even showing up in my paintings, textiles, and beadwork. I’m interested in how sound affects our bodies on a cellular level – what it does to us when we hear it. This fall, I’ll be creating sound for an exhibition, which will be a new step for me. Sound is evolving into a vital part of my art practice.

h: Art critics often talk about the relationship between the image and the idea, as if trying to solve the mystery of creativity through a formal approach – one that uses the influence of society and environment, artistic heritage and personal drama as criteria for the analysis of creativity. What is a source of creative energy for you? 

JG: For me, it’s the memory of my community and my experience. I can’t deny that my work is informed by the colonial history of my people, but it’s also about healing. It’s about reconnecting with things that were lost, or distorted, in a way that allows us to have agency in this moment. It’s not just a personal journey; it’s a collective one. The world is in a certain state of crisis, and art can offer an alternative to that. It’s a way to reimagine reality.

h: As the first Indigenous artist to represent the U.S. at the Venice Biennale with a solo presentation, what message do you hope to convey through your work about the Indigenous communities?

JG: I’m hoping that people see that Indigenous people are not monolithic. We’re not just one thing. We are incredibly diverse and complex. Through my work, I want to offer a broader vision of what it means to be Indigenous in the contemporary world. This is about showcasing strength and survival, not victimhood. We are present, and we have been present, and that’s something I want to push forward in the art world.

h: How do your personal experiences, such as growing up in various countries, influence your understanding of American identity and reflect in your art?

JG: Growing up in different places, I started to understand that being American is not just a singular idea. I see American identity as something much more complex. It’s not just about the national anthem or flags. It’s about the contradictions within it, the gaps, the struggles, and the resistance. My experience being part of multiple cultures has shaped how I see America, and that’s reflected in my art. My work deals with that tension – the push and pull of who gets to belong and who gets left out.

h: How do you define success as an artist?

JG: Success for me is about authenticity and creating work that feels true to myself, rather than conforming to external expectations. It’s not about how many people see it, or whether it sells, or whether it’s ‘successful’ in the traditional sense. Success is about reaching people on a deep level, sparking something in them, and pushing them to see the world differently. If my work can do that, then I consider it successful.