No one is quite sure who the Trickster is, where it came from, what it is, or what purpose it serves, but it tends to unexpectedly show up in cultural narratives, often exposing human flaws and reminding us of our collective interactions, including exposing our unscrupulous behaviors. By no fault of its own, the Trickster is the shadow victim of the precarious light it carries in helping us to see things differently. Yet it’s also a psychological force, a rule maker and a rule breaker who thrives in the space of human conflict, exposing new distinctions, or as Susan White says, “keeping the world lively and giving cultures the flexibility to endure.”

As an architectural visage, this Indigenous Trickster goes by the name LeCreebusier (LeCreeb, for short); an Indian Agent provocateur with a flair for design criticism. Gifted with situational awareness, LeCreeb is challenged with having to “make sense” of the human actions of a band of Cree people who occupy a swath of boreal forest across the northern shield. LeCreeb is not quite sure how the Swampy Cree, who live on both sides of James Bay, got their political clanship braids tied in a knot or how their active fur traplines got all tangled up, but one thing is certain: it was the Canadian government’s introduction of a series of imaginary provincial borders that divided the Cree from their homeland. From northern Quebec to northern Alberta, the Cree territory is vast. This context is key to understanding the situation.