The Street As A Gallery

The art of Lonigan Gilbert

by

Over the past four years, Edmontonians strolling through the inner city or along downtown’s winding river trails have stumbled upon unexpected gifts — small paintings left on pathways, propped against monuments, or gently affixed to railings. 

These are not mass-produced prints or amateur works but politically charged and deeply personal pieces by full-time artist Lonigan Gilbert. Born and raised in Winnipeg, Gilbert now lives in an apartment overlooking Edmonton’s river valley — the heart of his outdoor gallery.

As an avid follower of his work on Instagram, I was eager to learn more about his unique community practice. His drive clearly stems from something far deeper and more compelling than a lack of exhibition opportunities. When I approached him at an art event, he invited me to his place for a conversation.

Stepping into his apartment is an experience in itself. Gilbert’s studio engulfs the living room with paintings, history books and political insignia — including a wall-sized Mohawk Warrior Society flag — piled high to the ceiling. As he speaks about his practice, he is quite literally immersed in his art.

“Art is a necessity to keep living,” he says. Growing up with domestic struggles and on welfare, art became his refuge, outlet, and adventure. “When you are drawing, you do a bit of world-building,” he says.

Gilbert’s love of art began in childhood, working alongside his artist father. Later, as a latchkey kid, he spent hours taking art classes at the Winnipeg Art Gallery, often lingering in the exhibition spaces long after. During this formative time, his understanding of art as a political act began to take shape. Each day, his bus ride to school took him past a towering mural of Louis Riel standing before Métis warriors. 

“It was inspiring,” Gilbert says. The mural made him realize that while the colonial system might not be there for him, he could use art to challenge race and class-based systemic injustices and assert his experience as a proudly Indigenous man.

His art is a visual manifesto, one recognized by the Art Gallery of St. Albert, which showed his exhibition, Transmission, in 2022.

Media Worthy —  a painting he left on Edmonton’s main commercial artery, now likely in a private collection – depicts a ghostly female figure lying in a muddy, dispirited prairie landscape. She embodies the silent and largely unpublicized victims of violence, such as the four missing and murdered Indigenous women whose bodies were discarded in Winnipeg landfills in 2022 and never recovered. Above her, at the centre of a police-car-blue eyeball, is the word NEXT  —  a stark reminder that another victim is already in the crosshairs. 

At 33, Gilbert has already endured more than most. Much of his artwork, including Untitled/Self Portrait, lays bare his experience with raw, unfiltered honesty. This painting hangs in his bedroom — the first thing his eyes meet each morning. It reminds him to be grateful for still being here. “For still being alive, for taking account of all the experiences that have gotten me here,” he says.

The focal point is a blood-red pill bottle labeled with the warning: “One daily, do not consume alcohol.” It refers to his recent medical diagnosis: a brain tumour. Since collapsing from a seizure, he has undergone brain surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation — and now lives with the knowledge that there is no cure.

Spending countless days in the healthcare system exposed Gilbert to the same injustices he faces daily, making his public art practice even more urgent. For him, something as routine as a trip to the grocery store is fraught with anxiety: he is regularly followed by security guards. The fear is much worse now that he is disabled. “You feel like you can’t defend yourself quite so well,” he says. “Authority figures have a lot of power in this country, and they get away with a lot of horrible things.”

Poverty adds fuel to the power structures of racism. That’s why Gilbert weaves dollar signs and symbols of authority — uniforms, police cars — throughout his artwork. “There is not many places that tolerate the poor,” he says, highlighting the irony that while public washrooms are often off-limits, those without access can still be fined for relieving themselves in the street.

As my interview with Gilbert ends, I step out into the bustling inner city, seeing it anew through the lens of his art. His work informs and transforms, echoing the prophecy in one of his favourite quotes attributed to Louis Riel: “My people will sleep for one hundred years, but when they awake, it will be the artists who give them their spirit back.” ■

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