He has spent the last decade reflecting on what it means to be a Métis architect, a question that was never really raised when he was in school. Now he has the time and space to try to answer it. David Fortin is a Métis architect who was born in Calgary, was raised in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan and now lives in Cambridge, Ontario. His parents were teachers and their family lived briefly in Three Hills and Lethbridge, Alberta as well. His mother’s family were Austrian settlers and his dad’s family were Red River Métis who spread across the prairies.

Like many kids from his area, Fortin went to university in Saskatoon where he took an ecology course and learned about the study of the intersection between architecture and ecology. Digging deeper, he was enamoured with the drawings of futuristic worlds. He started looking into architecture more and applied to study at the University of Calgary after his undergraduate degree. He did a PhD as well.

“Architecture is an interesting field, in a sense, because it's creative. But it's also grounded in the real kind of nuts and bolts of how our societies work and the kinds of buildings that go up on it,” he explains. He’s become part of a global community of Indigenous architects reflecting on the origins of the colonized built environment, and who are asking questions about why and how Indigenous voices were muted. They also reflect on the lack of cultural celebration evident in their cities.

Science fiction and futuristic architecture have been his passions but when he started teaching architecture, he worked in Kenya and Montana building straw bale homes with local Indigenous populations. When teaching in Montana, he noticed the lack of curriculum around Native American architecture, so he created some and he started talking about his own heritage.

Later, a job opportunity came up at Laurentian University where they were basing their architectural curriculum on Indigenous teachings with elders in the school and he ended up teaching there. He applied for grant funding to dig into what it means to be a Métis architect and as he was conducting his research he found the books on Indigenous architecture did not discuss Métis issues. From there, Fortin made efforts to hire Métis students and to connect with the Métis community with intention.

As part of that journey, he travelled to Métis settlements with his dad and reconnected with family. They would talk about buildings with the people they met, one year in Alberta, in Saskatchewan the next and later to Manitoba. They documented and discussed architecture wherever they went and worked to create a resource so young Métis would have something to look to. What he’s seen in his travels is a level of sophistication that hasn’t been well recognized and documented. Working with a variety of Métis organizations on many projects, he listens to communities and what they want so the research reflects a Métis expression.

As a white-passing Métis person, he has had a lot of privilege but he didn’t always feel like he fit in in architecture school, surrounded by students who had been to art galleries abroad and studying something profoundly influenced by art gallery culture when his upbringing was much more modest. Working in a profession that serves the wealthy when he comes from humble roots has also been a challenge and he’s felt out of touch at times. Reorienting to a teaching role and recognizing that architecture can be a social profession that can improve quality of life helped him find more meaning in his work. While he enjoyed the experience of creating a beautiful home in Victoria, he loves what he does now.

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If he could give a message to his younger self it would be around the tendency to believe that at certain milestones life would fall into place, like graduation from high school or university. The truth is that in pursuit of these landmarks, there’s a disruption in the ability to stay present. He would say, “Now is your moment to be content and be happy. Whatever happens and unfolds in time will happen, that's what's going to happen. But don't keep yourself so focused on that thing that you want to attain down the road. Take the opportunity now to do those things that will ground you spiritually.” He wishes he had found balance in breaking from tradition to chase his dreams and grounding himself spiritually and that he had understood that the two ideals were not in conflict. “You'll find you can chase your dreams better the more grounded you are spiritually,” he confides.

To maintain wellness and balance in his life, he works to stay connected with Métis and local First Nation communities. He participates in ceremony, spends time with family, exercises, takes care of his body, and tries to find balance in his schedule. Making time for elders, working on self-improvement and practicing moderation with alcohol are things he tries to do, too.

His advice for young Indigenous people is hopeful.

“The world has so many opportunities right now for Indigenous youth…. Your communities will support you. Your ancestors will support you and have confidence in that. You can do a lot right now. The opportunities are there,” he affirms.

He hopes to see hundreds of Indigenous architects in the future. He hopes youth will reflect on the question, “What grounds you?” as they navigate an increasingly distracting world. He sees so many businesses looking to recruit Indigenous people and so much potential for tokenization. Fortin sees grounding as a way to resist being tokenized because you know who you are.

David Fortin has spent the last decade reflecting on what it means to be a Métis architect, a question that was never really raised when he was in school. Now with the time and space to try to answer it, he’s making a valuable contribution to his field that will benefit generations to come. Building foundational knowledge, he’s learning and teaching what Métis-built and designed means with lessons that stand the test of time.

Thank you to Alison Tedford for writing this article!