Copper Thunderbird has taken flight.
Norval Morrisseau's death yesterday at Toronto General Hospital, at age 75 after a long and feisty battle with Parkinson's disease, won't end of the gritty story of the great Anishinabe painter once called "the Picasso of the north" who signed his canvases "Miskwaabik Animiki" or Copper Thunderbird.
"I've always wanted to be role model," he told the Star several years back, his words slurred and barely audible even then. "I've always wanted to stay an Indian. I wanted the little kids to know that."
They do. "He certainly was a role model for me as an art student," said Greg Hill, curator of Norval Morrisseau – Shaman Artist, the groundbreaking retrospective of the artist's work last year at the National Gallery in Ottawa that is now at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York.
"He was the first aboriginal artist I was aware of. He will always have that kind of presence."
Born and raised in isolation near Thunder Bay, Ont., a member of the Order of Canada, Morrisseau was the sole Canadian painter shown at Paris's Georges Pompidou Centre in 1989 as part of the French celebration of the bicentennial of the French Revolution.
He "spearheaded a cultural renaissance in First Nations arts and culture in the '60s," Phil Fontaine, national chief of the Assembly of First Nations, said in a statement yesterday. "He taught us to be proud of who we are."
On Nov. 15, Morrisseau went to Ottawa to receive a lifetime achievement award from National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation. "This is the highest honour we can bestow on our own," said foundation CEO Roberta Jamieson.
She expects Morrisseau's life and art will be "the centerpiece" of the foundation's awards show, March 7 at the Sony Centre in Toronto.
Morrisseau's dazzling Toronto debut Sept. 12, 1962 that opened Jack Pollock's gallery instantly established the painter's reputation and led to a Time magazine story.
"That was at a time when Canadian First Nations art didn't seem to exist," said Gerald McMaster, the leading First Nations historian and head of the Canadian collection at the Art Gallery of Ontario.
"Morrisseau's presence woke people up. He was the torchbearer. What he did and what he said – aside from his eccentricities – had enormous power and influence over several generations of artists."
Through the 1970s and '80s, the painter's "eccentricities" – binge drinking and often a hand-to-mouth street existence – were the despair of his friends and buyers of his work who were uncertain of the authenticity of his paintings. The artist admitted to this reporter in 2004 he had signed other artists' work "if they needed the money."
Yet surviving the mean streets in B.C. and Toronto also gave him a reputation for being indestructible. "Can't imagine he's actually gone," said a choked-up Hill.
Only a month ago, Morrisseau was driven to A Space Gallery on Richmond St. W. for an exhibition. "There was a small crowd there moved to tears to see this great man," said McMaster.
Heart problems weakened him noticeably over the past year, said Gabe Vadas, the painter's companion and caregiver. "He'd have a great day, then he'd have a bad day. But he was getting worse."
"So now he's on the next part of his journey," said Jamieson. "We're going to celebrate that. We're beaming with pride through our tears."
Visitations will be Thursday and Friday, 2 to 4 p.m. and 7 to 9 p.m., at Jarrett Funeral Home, 1141 St. Clair Ave. W. The family plans a private funeral.
