‘Fading Memories of Home’ confronted the legacy of residential schools through art

This article discusses residential schools, colonial violence, and intergenerational trauma, which may be distressing for some readers.

Through reconstructed school desks, haunting sounds, and stories of stolen childhoods, one art exhibit reflected on the lasting impacts of Canada’s residential school system.

From Sept. 11 to 30, the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performing Arts hosted Tom Wilson’s powerful installation Fading Memories of Home in the Arts and Media Lab. Wilson, a Canadian musician, songwriter, acclaimed Mohawk storyteller, and visual artist, used the space to confront the lasting trauma of residential schools. The exhibit featured nine reconstructed school desks, each adorned with photographs of children’s families, transforming the gallery into a haunting reimagining of a colonial classroom.

The Journal joined a docent-led tour of Fading Memories of Home to better understand the story behind the exhibition. The tour began by asking us what we know about Wilson as an artist. My own answer was humbling, not much. The guide filled in the gaps, recounting how Wilson discovered at 53 that he had been adopted and that his birth parents were Kahnawake Mohawk. Like many Indigenous children during the Sixties Scoop—a government-led practice of forcibly removing children from their families and placing them in residential schools before adoption—Wilson had been separated from his community at a young age.

Fading Memories From Home is built on the emotional foundation of a traumatic memory Wilson’s birth mother shared with him. During a Grade 5 class, a teacher warned students that their classmates would be the last “Indians” they would ever know.

After learning Wilson’s story, I was invited to sit at one of the reconstructed desks and watch footage drawn from residential schools projected onto a blackboard. The three-minute video was often difficult to watch, juxtaposing scenes of children smiling with moments of visible pain. It depicted the forced transformation of Indigenous children—their long hair cut short, their traditional clothing replaced with colonial uniforms, their identities stripped away.

The sound accompanying the video was spoken in Mohawk—a language once forbidden under the Catholic school curriculum—both beautiful and haunting. As I watched the video, I felt eerily watched by two eight-foot figures of nuns flanking the blackboard—a reminder of the constant surveillance children endured under the watchful eyes of those who ran the residential schools.

The arrangement of the desks also conveyed meaning. Set in a rigid grid reminiscent of a colonial classroom, the desks told a visual story: the front row displayed clear images of mothers, fathers, and families on each desktop, which grew fainter with every row toward the back. This gradual fading symbolized the erosion of family, culture, and language imposed on Indigenous children through the residential school system.

After the docent-led tour, The Journal sat down for a talk with Gordon E. Smith, director of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performing Arts, in the Green Room to learn more about Fading Memories of Home and Wilson’s presence at the Bader Centre throughout September.

In addition to the exhibit, Wilson’s work was highlighted through a soloist performance with the Tom Wilson Tehohahàke Trio, comprised of his son Thompson Wilson and producer Gary Furniss, on Sept. 19 and an artist talk in the Recital Hall on Sept. 20, which drew audiences of roughly 250 and 70 people, respectively, according to Smith.

At the artist talk, Smith explained that Wilson shared his personal story, read excerpts from his 2019 book Beautiful Scars, and performed several songs. Afterward, Wilson stayed to speak with audience members in small groups, something Smith described as being “very generous with his time.”

For the 2025–26 season, the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performing Arts is curated around the theme Extending the Rafters—a phrase rooted in the Haudenosaunee tradition of building good relations. In a booklet detailing the season, Elder Marlene Brant Castellano explains, “When newcomers arrive or when the community expands, you extend the rafters of the house to make more room—because with an expanded Longhouse, the community will thrive.”

According to Smith, Wilson’s work served as an “opener” for Extending the Rafters, while emphasizing that Indigenous-based initiatives at the Bader aren’t confined to September— students and community members can find Indigenous-curated performances, exhibitions, and events throughout the season.

His reflections on Extending the Rafters also carried a broader message about how we engage with Indigenous storytelling and knowledge—one that resonated deeply with me as both a student and an aspiring journalist.

“Words and writing aren’t the only ways we communicate—and while they’re central to journalism, there’s just as much to learn through visual, musical, and artistic experiences. That’s something we need to remember when reporting on Indigenous stories,” he said.

Fading Memories of Home was more than an art installation; it’s a call to listen, learn, and expand the spaces where Indigenous stories are told.