In the shadow of Mount Baker, where the Fraser River meets concrete and controversy, Niki Sharma harvests discarded industrial materials that most would consider pollution. These forgotten fragments—copper wire, weathered lumber, petroleum-stained fabrics—become powerful vehicles for cultural expression in her hands. As a Coast Salish artist raised between two worlds, Sharma doesn’t just create art; she forges connections between ancestral traditions and urgent contemporary issues facing Indigenous communities along the Fraser Valley.
“I’m not interested in making pretty things for gallery walls,” Sharma explains, seated in her sunlit studio converted from an abandoned processing plant. “Each piece carries the DNA of our land—both its natural beauty and the wounds we’ve inflicted upon it. When people see beauty emerging from what was discarded, they’re forced to reconsider their relationship with both waste and the cultures they’ve marginalized.”
Weaving Tradition into Modern Protest
Sharma’s artistic journey began conventionally enough—learning traditional formline design and weaving techniques from her grandmother and community elders. But while many Indigenous artists working today maintain strict adherence to established practices, Sharma deliberately pushes boundaries by incorporating these sacred techniques into provocative mixed-media installations that speak directly to environmental degradation and cultural appropriation.
Her breakthrough work, Territorial Acknowledgments Are Not Enough (2021), features salvaged cedar pieces meticulously carved with traditional motifs, then partially submerged in reclaimed industrial oil. The stark contrast between pristine cultural symbols and encroaching pollution created an uncomfortable tension that resonated far beyond typical gallery audiences.
“Cultural practices were never meant to be static,” Sharma insists. “Our ancestors were innovators who responded to their changing world. I’m doing exactly what they did—using the visual language I inherited to speak truth about the world I inhabit now.”
Between Worlds: Navigating Identity and Authenticity
Finding her distinctive voice required navigating complicated questions of authenticity and permission. After formal training at Emily Carr University of Art + Design, Sharma initially struggled with institutional expectations that Indigenous artists should produce work fitting neatly into marketable categories—either “traditional” or “contemporary” with little room between.
“There’s this bizarre expectation that Indigenous artists either make traditional objects frozen in time or completely assimilate into Western contemporary art frameworks,” she says. “I reject that false binary. My culture isn’t a museum artifact, and my art practice isn’t about choosing sides. It’s about creating a third space where these worlds collide and transform each other.”
This determination to forge her own path hasn’t always been easy. Sharma recalls early exhibitions where her work was criticized from multiple directions—some traditional community members concerned about innovation with sacred techniques, while mainstream institutions questioned whether her politically charged pieces were “too didactic” for contemporary art spaces.
“Those early rejections were painful but clarifying,” she reflects. “They showed me exactly why spaces like the Alternative Abbotsford Arts Council are so necessary. Artists need platforms where we don’t have to shrink ourselves or our messages to fit predetermined boxes.”
Transforming Materials and Minds
Sharma’s studio process combines rigorous technical craft with intuitive experimentation. Each project begins with material collection—often from controversial sites like pipeline construction zones or abandoned industrial facilities along the river. These gathering expeditions are documented and become part of the work’s provenance.
“The materials themselves carry stories,” she explains, demonstrating how she carefully cleans and prepares reclaimed copper wire before weaving it into forms inspired by traditional Coast Salish basketry. “This copper once carried electricity through Indigenous land without permission or benefit to the communities living there. By reclaiming it and incorporating it into cultural forms, I’m reversing that flow of power.”
Her technical approach is methodical but not precious. Sharma readily embraces accidental outcomes and material limitations, seeing them as collaborations with the environment rather than mistakes. This flexibility extends to her use of digital tools—she frequently incorporates projection mapping and sound elements into installations, creating immersive experiences that engage visitors beyond visual appreciation.
“Technology isn’t foreign to Indigenous practice,” she argues. “We’ve always been scientists and engineers adapting to changing conditions. Using digital tools alongside traditional techniques isn’t contradiction—it’s continuation.”
Community Activation and Knowledge Transfer
Perhaps most significant in Sharma’s practice is her commitment to community engagement. Beyond her studio work, she leads workshops for Indigenous youth throughout the Fraser Valley, including sessions hosted at local community centers and spaces such as the Sumas First Nation Youth Centre. These workshops teach both traditional techniques and contemporary applications, especially for young people disconnected from their cultural heritage through foster care or urban relocation.
“Making art gave me a way to reconnect with cultural knowledge when I felt most alienated from it,” Sharma says. “I’m not just teaching techniques—I’m offering these young people a way to see themselves as part of a continuing story rather than a broken line.”
The impact of these workshops extends beyond individual participants. Many of Sharma’s student-collaborators have gone on to create their own boundary-pushing work, establishing an emerging movement of politically engaged Indigenous artists throughout the region. Their collective presence has transformed the local arts landscape, creating demand for more inclusive institutions and challenging established galleries to reconsider their approaches to Indigenous art.
“When I started out, there were so few spaces willing to show work that directly confronted colonial systems or environmental destruction,” Sharma notes. “Now I see young artists fearlessly creating exactly what they believe needs to exist in the world. That’s the real success—not my individual career, but this growing community that refuses to be silenced.”
Practical Wisdom for Emerging Artists
When asked what guidance she offers to artists from marginalized communities, Sharma emphasizes the importance of building sustainable practices both creatively and financially.
“Find your community first, not your market,” she advises. “The art world wants to isolate us into individual competitive careers, but our strength is in collaboration and mutual support. Share resources, share opportunities, share knowledge.”
She also stresses the practical realities of surviving as an artist with controversial messages. “Learn to diversify your income streams and build direct relationships with supporters. When your work challenges powerful systems, traditional funding and exhibition opportunities might disappear overnight. Financial resilience is part of creative resilience.”
For artists specifically working with cultural heritage, Sharma recommends deep engagement with both traditional knowledge keepers and contemporary critical theory. “You need to understand what you’re borrowing from, what you’re transforming, and why,” she explains. “That accountability to both past and future gives your work integrity that audiences recognize, even if they don’t share your specific cultural background.”
Art as a Bridge, Not a Border
As Sharma prepares for her upcoming installation at the Alternative Abbotsford Arts Council‘s annual Art & Culture Days Festival, she reflects on how her approach has evolved. Her newest work incorporates community-contributed stories about river pollution alongside traditional design elements and industrial materials, creating a collective testimony rather than an individual statement.
“I’m less interested now in my voice alone and more focused on creating platforms where multiple perspectives can exist together,” she explains. “Art shouldn’t just point at problems—it should help us imagine different futures together.”
This shift toward collective storytelling represents the maturing of Sharma’s practice. What began as personal exploration of identity has expanded into a community-centered approach to cultural revitalization and environmental justice. Her installations now function less as standalone art objects and more as gathering points for difficult but necessary conversations.
“The most powerful thing art can do is create a third space where people who might never otherwise connect can share an experience,” Sharma concludes. “In that moment of connection, change becomes possible. That’s not just art—that’s ceremony. And we need new ceremonies for these troubled times.”
Through her innovative fusion of cultural heritage with contemporary concerns, Niki Sharma demonstrates how art can transcend artificial boundaries—between traditional and modern, between cultural preservation and political activation, between aesthetic experience and community organizing. In doing so, she creates not just art objects but new possibilities for understanding our shared past and collective future.
The Alternative Abbotsford Arts Council is proud to present Niki Sharma’s latest installation, “Watershed Memories,” Community contributions to the piece can be submitted through our website until May 1.