A Sagafish Media and National Film Board of Canada co-production

There is a moment during the construction of a canoe when its true form is revealed. A hull drops into place. The elegant arc of a bow cuts forth. A similar process sometimes occurs in life, when a person finally discovers their true path.

Fritz Mueller and Teresa Earle’s feature documentary Voices Across the Water follows two master boat builders as they practise their art and find a way back to balance and healing.

For Alaskan Tlingit carver Wayne Price and young apprentice, Violet, fashioning a dugout canoe from a single massive red cedar tree is a way to reconnect to the Ancestral Knowledge of Indigenous craftspeople. Francophone artist Halin de Repentigny’s handmade birchbark canoes recall the vessels once used by the voyageurs. Connected by their devotion to craft and the critical importance of succession, they carry forward the ancient art of navigating life’s unexpected currents.

Watch film – https://www.nfb.ca/film/voices-across-the-water/

There is a moment during the construction of a canoe when its true form is revealed. A hull drops into place. The elegant arc of a bow cuts forth. A similar process sometimes occurs in life, when a person finally discovers their true path.

Fritz Mueller and Teresa Earle’s feature documentary Voices Across the Water follows two master boat builders as they practise their art and find a way back to balance and healing.

For Alaskan Tlingit carver Wayne Price, fashioning a dugout canoe from a single massive red cedar tree is a way to reconnect to the Ancestral Knowledge of Indigenous craftspeople. Wayne’s long hours of labour are buoyed by silly jokes and deep conversation with a new young apprentice, Violet.

Francophone artist Halin de Repentigny hand-makes birchbark canoes, like those once used by the voyageurs. Harvesting raw materials from the Yukon forest, Halin works in painstaking fashion to create his light, strong vessels, lovingly embellished with his fanciful artwork.

But what happens when the old ways are lost? For Wayne, building boats is a means to pass on his skill and expertise to the next generation, while Halin’s labour is more introspective, but both men understand the fragility of knowledge. Connected by their devotion to craft and the critical importance of succession, they carry forward the ancient art of navigating life’s unexpected currents and eddies.

In the final meeting of wood and water, the vessels are launched, carrying friends and family in joyous communion: their journey complete.

Two-liner

There is a moment during the construction of a canoe when its true form is revealed. A hull drops into place. The elegant arc of a bow cuts forth. A similar process sometimes occurs in life, when a person finally discovers their true path.

The feature documentary Voices Across the Water follows two master boat builders as they practise their art and find a way back to balance and healing.

One-liner     

Voices Across the Water follows two master boat builders as they practise their art and find a way back to balance and healing.

Did you gain a greater appreciation for the healing effect of making things by hand after following these two different men on their respective journeys?

There’s a meditative quality to making something by hand; it’s similar to the ‘zone’ that athletes get into. A big part of Alaskan Tlingit carver Wayne Price’s and francophone artist Halin de Repentigny’s personal confidence is that they are masters at making something that is challenging. They’re both at their best and happiest when they are nearing completion of a canoe.

They talk about the rhythmic cadence of chipping, adzing and stitching bark to fashion boats. It requires a high level of focus and engagement. There’s also something about the paddling cadence. Wayne says there’s no space to be angry while canoeing, that paddling actually displaces negative thoughts. When you stay in a positive space for a long time, you form new patterns of thinking and emerge at the end a different person. I’m convinced that’s part of the healing process.

Does the art of building traditional boats offer a tangible, physical connection with the past? What is lost when these traditions no longer exist?

These styles of watercraft have been built for thousands of years. They’re etched into the human ethos, with significant space in stories and literature. Making these kinds of craft requires a high level of understanding of both materials and tools.

Both Wayne and Halin collect raw materials from their local environments and use tools that are directly connected to the past. Wayne believes the physical touch of wood and water helps define who we are and connects us to our ancestors.

Access to this knowledge keeps us grounded in the values and wisdom of the past, but it’s also an opportunity to better understand who we are in the current moment and the challenges of where we are going. Hopefully it makes us wiser.

Both Wayne and Halin are visual artists, as well as master boatbuilders. What role does creativity play in their work? 

They’re both driven by the aesthetics of traditional boats. It’s also a romantic connection to their past.

In boatbuilding, there are no straight lines. No piece of wood is the same. Every kind of material has different knots and grain, so they have to respond with creative ways to make the best use of things. What sets their work apart from other art forms is that boats are beautiful but they’re also functional and practical. Historically, boats were used for transportation and war, but they’re also symbols of wealth, strength and ceremony.

Halin and Wayne’s dedication to craft is healing in ways that are not always immediately obvious. How have their current projects allowed both men to come to terms with their individual histories?

Halin has made more than 30 canoes, and Wayne more than 15. This body of work has been a large part of their confidence and arguably their wellbeing. It demands dedication, commitment, and it’s shaped their place in their respective cultures.

Both men turned 60 while we were filming. They’re at a stage when they really want to share their hard-earned knowledge with future generations and are both actively seeking apprentices. They’re both aware that they’re getting older and if people don’t carry their work forward, there is the danger that these traditions could be lost.

A big part of why they participated is that they wanted the film to function as a form of mentorship, as a record of their skills and knowledge, with the hope that it might inspire others to take up the craft.

How do the different landscapes and communities in which Halin and Wayne work affect their boatbuilding practices? How important is it for both men to share their knowledge with their communities?

Halin lives in a remote northern environment where he has access to small birch trees, spruce roots and lots of sap and bear fat, while Wayne lives in the lush coastal forest of Alaska, with enormous trees that are suitable for carving a canoe out of a single log. Their different traditions are informed very much by their materials.

In Wayne’s case, there are 10,000 years of history making these dugouts. In Halin’s, there are several hundred years of francophone tradition in fashioning birchbark canoes. Both men feel that their communities will be enriched if people understand this history, and they hope it will increase awareness and allow for greater healing and knowledge to emerge out of the practice.

In addition to concrete skills and experience, building boats in the traditional fashion passes on other lessons, like patience, ingenuity, commitment and generosity. Was the process of making the film a labour of love for you as well?

There is definitely something about making a film about building boats that requires you to slow down and dig into the process. The process of making documentaries requires many of the same attributes as making boats—patience, fortitude and humility.

Contact NFB Publicist for broadcast–quality excerpts. 

Contact NFB Publicist for high-resolution images for print.