Manufactured for the North-Western fur trade beyond the Hudson Bay, sawn off and engraved by Tlingit natives c.late 18th century. .69 caliber smoothbore barrel, flintlock single shot musket. Northwest type guns were a specific model used to trade with American natives during the 18th and early 19th century, which were characterized by a brass serpent plate on the left side of the lock and an enlarged triggerguard to allow shooting with either thick gloves or two fingers.
A Northwest gun’s distinctive brass plate, signed Pritchett c.1829.
These were suited for war and hunting and were greatly appreciated by native tribes, who lacked the infrastructure to produce them but well understood their superiority to more ‘traditional’ weapons.
Rosalie Favell | I awoke to find my spirit had returned. 1999
From the series Plain(s) Warrior Artist, Favell is seen here working with Louis Riel’s last words “My people will sleep for one hundred years and when they awake it will be the artist that gives them their spirit back…”
Early forms of photoshop are used
in this image, as Favell edits herself front and centre of the famous scene of
The Wizard of Oz. Favell places herself
in the role of the heroine of the film and while taking up the viewpoint
enforcing acknowledgement of her Metis heritage in doing so.
Favell lies in bed covered in a Hudson Bay Blanket while Louis Riel
seems to check in on her.
assertion of Favell’s Metis imagery into such a well-known piece of White Settler
‘culture’ be interpreted as a form of resistance via occupation. This assertion
of Metis identity is powerful with the addition of the Hudson Bay blanket,
thinking about what that blanket and pattern can mean for many Indigenous
people and specifically the Metis connection to the Fur trade and the HBC. Louis Riel too adds this persistence of
resistance as from all angles contemporary and historical Metis identity is
being inserted into the scene. Keeping Favell’s own image in colour brings forth her own identity as present
and rejects the notion of Indigenous people/culture being in the past.
Favell inserts herself and her heritage onto
the predominant oppressive culture and in doing so brings her own identity into
the foreground in an act of resistance to White Settler culture and oppression.
Dawn. Nico was rarely up this early. And rarely this warm. Turning her head to the side, she noticed, tucked into her shoulder, holding down her out thrown arm, a very messy redhead, very soundly asleep, very very cute. Smiling, Nico kissed the top of Maki’s head and carefully slid herself free and got up. There was enough light not to trip over anything by. Maki had apparently carried Nico to a small bedroom taken up mostly by a queen bed, basic, white pine, Hudson Bay Blanket half tossed aside. Nico paused in the doorway on her way to the bathroom, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Maki, seeming wearing only her flannel shirt, legs half in the open, posture completely relaxed. It was a scene Nico would be hurrying back to.
At that point Sherlock made a choking noise, it took him a fraction of a second to realise this was a sob. The sob made him loose himself, he just sobbed harder, they racked through him, making him shake.
“Sherlock?” John’s concerned voice cut through. He looked up through the tears as John sat next to him. “Sherlock, what’s wrong?”
“N-nothing… I’m fine, go to your date, she-she’ll be waiting for you.” Sherlock choked out before sobbing again, John put an arm around Sherlock to comfort him.
“Sherlock, something’s bothering you. Tell me, I’m not going till you do.”
“It’s s-silly really, st-stupidic, moronic…”
“Sherlock, I doubt that.” John said and moved some of Sherlock’s hair out of Sherlock’s face. “Tell me, maybe I could help?”
“I-I’ve f-fallen in love….”
“Oh, is that the problem? That you don’t want to be in love?”
“Th-the problem… the problem is; is that h-he w-won’t love m-me back…” Sherlock tried not to sob again, but completely and utterly failed, his body shook as it left his throat.
“How do you know?”
“John, g-go… go to your date, h-have fun.”
“Sherlock. How many times have you cried over this git?”
“He’s not a git…”
“Clearly, if you love him but he doesn’t love you then he’s a git in my mind okay?”
“W-we aren’t dating… h-he’s n-not gay..”
“Okay, well then how many times have you cried over this fellow?”
“A-a few… mostly wh-when he goes on dates or I’m in bed…” Sherlock looked down at the floor making sure he didn’t look at John, he was certain John was straight.
“So… he had a date tonight?”
“He has one, but he won’t leave for it.” Sherlock kept his eyes averted.
“I might not be gay but I’m not straight.” John’s statement made Sherlock lift his head. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me?”
“I-i… you’re… you’re… you might have gotten angry…” Sherlock felt John’s arms wrap around him, in a comforting hug.
“I wouldn’t have, and I’m not angry and I want you to know Sherlock that, I love you too.”
“y-y-you love me? But… but why the dates?”
“They’ve only been women, I don’t know I think I thought I’d compare men to you and not women but… I did, Sherlock, I was trying to get over you.. you said you were married to your work and everything so I just…. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around John as well and snuggled into him……..
Around 15 minutes later Mrs Hudson received a phone call… “Hello?”
“Good evening. Mycroft here, Sherlock’s brother.”
“Yes, I know who you are love, what’s the problem?”
“I know it’s not your job but could you go up into the boy’s apartment and maybe put a blanket over them, they’re on the couch.”
“Wh- of course dear. Good bye now.” She hung up and went up the stairs quietly but excitedly, she opened the door to the boys flat and clear as day, they were cuddling on the couch, asleep. Mrs Hudson found a blanket and covered them with it. The sight made her feel proud and happy.
sherlock and johns favorite nights are when they watch old movies on tv and get take out and cuddle under a fuzzy blanket mrs. hudson gave them, and they always accidentally fall asleep and john will wake up disoriented to find sherlock gently snoring, face tucked into johns neck, and he’ll wake sherlock up with kisses and theyre both the happiest men in the entire world
mrs hudson walks into sherlock and johns flat in the afternoon and finds them sound asleep on the couch, sherlock’s lying flat on his belly on top of john, his head in the crook of john’s neck, right arm falling off of the couch, mouth open dribbling on john’s chest, john’s right arm is wrapped around sherlock’s waist. mrs hudson drapes a blanket over them and quickly shuts the windows, turns off their phones, unplugs anything she can find that could make a noise and scurrys out the door hoping that nothing disturbs them and they end up sleeping for hours and hours and….