Inuit Art Quarterly - Paper: Cutting Edge by Inuit Art Quarterly

THE

PAPER

ISSUE

CONTENTS

31.3

Inuit Art Quarterly Paper

Front

Features

Back

04 Contributors

26 Revisiting Annie Pootoogook: The Spirit, the Self and Other Stories

60 Printed Matters: Unearthing the Ulukhaktok Archive

LEGACY

This award-winning artist took the Inuit art world by storm with her stirring, evocative graphic works. As a result, her artistic legacy has been defined by her meteoric and unprecedented rise to global fame. In this piece, the lesserknown currents of Pootoogook’s oeuvre are explored, providing a new lens through which to consider the profound impact of her work.

05 From the Editor 10 Message from the Board 10 Foundation Update 5 WORKS

12 Word Play HIGHLIGHTS

14 A sneak peek at some current

by Katherine Wabegijig

by Caoimhe Morgan-Feir

and upcoming exhibitions and projects.

CURATORIAL NOTES

34 Uvanga/Self: Picturing Our Identity

An artist considers the power of self-portraiture in articulating identity to oneself and to the world. Featuring works from Nunavut and Nunavik, this essay highlights Inuit self-portraiture from the early 1960s to the present and spans formal, psychological and community portraits, offering a glimpse at the breadth of Inuit self-representation.

CHOICE

18 Manasiah Akpaliapik and Pudlo Pudlat by Erik Haites CHOICE

20 Josie Pitseolak by Janet Pitsiulaaq Brewster

by Adina Tarralik Duffy PROFILE

40 Cutting Edge: Paper Today

22 Damien Iquallaq by John Geoghegan

Bringing together a unique collection, this Portfolio features works by established and emerging artists rendered in linocut and stencil, coloured pencil, ink and more, revealing the various methods by which paper intersects with other contemporary practices across the Arctic.

Page 34 From abstracted to figurative, this Feature offers an intimate look at how artists see themselves.

52 Paper Trail: An Interview with Eric Anoee Jr. on the Early Drawings of Eric Anoee Sr. THOMAS IKSIRQ I MET MY SOUL (DETAIL) (1998)

Paper

The chance discovery of works by Helen Kalvak, Agnes Nanogak Goose and more—once thought to be lost— spread across three safes in the community of Ulukhaktok, has spurred a new digitization effort to archive the almost forty-year history of printmaking in the community and the cultural memory it contains.

A little-known cache of drawings produced in the 1930s by Eric Anoee Sr. found its way into the Manitoba Museum. In this interview, Eric Anoee Jr. and curator emeritus Dr. Katherine Pettipas discuss the discovery and what the images reveal about life in Arviat and the history of drawing within Inuit art.

by Katherine Pettipas and John Geoghegan 1

64 Alootook Ipellie: Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border

A curator reflects on the first major solo exhibition of the late graphic artist and his relatively unknown but visionary work that humorously captured the everyday experiences of a changing northern landscape.

by Christine Lalonde REVIEW

68 Contemporary Native Art Biennial La Guilde / Stewart Hall Gallery by Çiğdem Talu REVIEW

70 Nick Sikkuark: A Celebration Marion Scott Gallery by Marshall Webb 72 News LAST LOOK

76 Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok ON THE COVER

Annie Pootoogook (b. 1969–2016 Kinngait) — Sobey Awards 2006 Coloured pencil and ink 57.5 × 76.5 cm

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION

Front

Inuit Art at Auction NOVEMBER 20, 2018

Private Collection A prominent collection highlighted by Canadaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most iconic print.

Judas Ullulaq

The Bill Johnstone Collection From the Scottish Borders to Canada, one of the finest collections of Inuit Art comes home.

Christa Ouimet

co@waddingtons.ca

Kenojuak Ashevak

Pauta Saila

Selections from the Terry Ryan Collection Terry Ryan was the force and vision behind three generations of artists from Cape Dorset.

www.waddingtons.ca

MASTHEAD

CONTRIBUTORS

PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL

Eric Anoee Jr.

The Inuit Art Quarterly is published by the Inuit Art Foundation.

Executive Director and Publisher Alysa Procida

Eric Anoee Jr. is actively involved in filmmaking and technology in his home community of Arviat, NU. He co-founded the Arviat Film Society in 2010 and currently manages a community television station. Anoee has served on the Board of Directors of several organizations including the Inuit Broadcasting Corporation and the Nunavut Film Development Corporation. He is the son of Martina Anoee and Eric Anoee Sr. PAGE 52

Established in 1987, the Inuit Art Foundation is a not-for-profit charitable organization that provides support to Canada’s Inuit arts communities and is the sole national body mandated to promote Inuit artists and art within Canada and internationally. This magazine relies on donations made to the Inuit Art Foundation, a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282). The Inuit Art Foundation gratefully acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through contributions from the Inuit Relations Directorate, Northern Governance Branch, Northern Affairs Organization, at Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada, Ontario Arts Council, Canada Council for the Arts, Ontario Media Development Corporation and Canadian Heritage. Subscriptions subscribe@inuitartfoundation.org Canada: $33/yr. Excludes GST/HST. US: $44/yr. Elsewhere: $48/yr. GST/HST #121033724RT0001. The Inuit Art Quarterly is a member of Magazines Canada. Publication date of this issue: September 15, 2018 ISSN 0831-6708

Editorial Director Britt Gallpen Senior Editor John Geoghegan Managing Editor Evan Pavka Profiles Editor Ashley McLellan Copy Editor Simone Wharton Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Design Cameron McKague

Adina Tarralik Duffy

Colour Gas Company

Adina Tarralik Duffy is an artist, designer, jeweller and writer from Salliq, NU. Her jewellery line Ugly Fish has garnered international attention while her artwork has been published in Canadian Art and Inuit Art Quarterly. Her writing has appeared in Up Here and above & beyond. Duffy’s short story “My Grandfather’s House” was published in You Care Too Much (2016), and in 2014 she won the Sally Manning Award for her story “Don’t Cry Over Spilled Beads.” PAGE 34

Printing Sonic Print

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Igloo Tag Program Coordinator Bryan Winters Igloo Tag Program Facilitator Blandina Makkik Development Manager Sabina Khan Administrative Assistant Brittany Holliss Nunatsiavut Community Liaison Holly Anderson

Caoimhe Morgan-Feir

Inuvialuit Settlement Region Community Liaison Darcie Bernhardt

Caoimhe Morgan-Feir is a writer and editor living in New York. She was most recently the Managing Editor of Canadian Art, and her articles have appeared in multiple publications, including The Walrus, Toronto Life, esse arts + opinions and Momus. She was awarded the international Frieze Writer’s Prize in 2013, and her work has been nominated for a Digital Publishing Award. PAGE 26

Southern Canada Community Liaison Alberta Rose Williams Nunavut Community Liaison Crystal Mullin Artist Biographical Database Program Officer Emma Steen

Publication Mail Agreement #40050252 Postmaster send address changes to Inuit Art Foundation. Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to: Inuit Art Foundation 1655 Dupont Street Toronto, ON, M6P 3S9 (647) 498-7717

Inuit Art Foundation Archives Officer Yuling Chen

—

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

Katherine Pettipas

President Mathew Nuqingaq | Iqaluit, NU

After 27 years as the Curator of Native Ethnology and the Hudson’s Bay Company Collection, Dr. Katherine Pettipas retired from the Manitoba Museum in 2011. She continues to research and publish as a curator emeritus. Pettipas curated many exhibitions and established vital community partnerships. She has published two books and many articles that highlight artifact collections at the museum. PAGE 52

inuitartfoundation.org

Chair Sammy Kudluk | Kuujjuaq, QC

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIAL. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION. PRINTED IN CANADA. DISTRIBUTED BY MAGAZINES CANADA.

Jamie Cameron | Toronto, ON Patricia Feheley | Toronto, ON Heather Igloliorte | Montreal, QC Helen Kaloon | Uqsuqtuuq, NU

FROM TIME TO TIME WE MAKE OUR SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES AVAILABLE TO COMPANIES WHOSE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES WE FEEL MAY BE OF INTEREST TO YOU. TO BE EXCLUDED FROM THESE MAILINGS, PLEASE SEND YOUR REQUEST, ALONG WITH A COPY OF YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MAILING LABEL, TO THE ADDRESS ABOVE.

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EDITORIAL ADVISORY COUNCIL Mary Dailey Desmarais Kim Latreille Samia Madwar Sarah Milroy Taqralik Partridge

Katheryn Wabegijig Katheryn Wabegijig is the Collections Manager at Canadian Arctic Producers, where she manages the Ulukhaktok graphic archive. She is an Ojibway/Odawa artist and emerging writer belonging to Garden River First Nation/Ketegaunseebee with ancestry in Wikwemikong, Atikameksheng Anishnawbek. Her writing has been included in The Unpublished City (2017) and Arc Poetry Magazine. PAGE 60

FUNDED BY THE GOVERNMENT OF CANADA

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

FROM THE EDITOR

Turn to page 52 to learn about the discovery of a notebook filled with drawings of life in the 1930s. COURTESY MANITOBA MUSEUM

This past June, the Inuit Art Foundation turned the page on what ultimately became a landmark year for our organization. Programs were launched; awards were given as well as received; our small team expanded exponentially with the addition of key team members, including Inuit, in our Toronto department as well as across the North; we relocated offices; redesigned our magazine; and, fittingly, capped off the year with the highest number of subscribers to the IAQ in its history. Today, more people than ever before will receive this issue of the magazine. After ten issues together, it finally feels like the right time for this IAQ editorial team to take a running start at tackling Paper—the material that has arguably had the most profound impact on the architecture of the modern Inuit art industry, from the earliest sketches and maps to iconic prints and exploratory drawings, the latter rendered in ever increasing scale and intricacy. This issue is also a tribute to one of the most celebrated, complex and controversial figures in Inuit art history, our cover artist, Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016). Sobey Awards (2006) is both a self-portrait and a refusal. It captures from the artist’s perspective the intense scrutiny and interest with which her work and her life were simultaneously considered and consumed following her renowned Sobey Art Award win in 2006. Yet in it, Pootoogook faces her adoring public while keeping her back to us, her audience. As viewers, we mirror the artist’s own vantage, meeting the crowd of clasped hands, video cameras, microphones and inquisitive faces. Even now, a dozen years on, their anticipation feels palpable. For an artist whose personal life was often made central to the public reception of her work, in selecting this image it was fitting to allow her to remain, notably, unavailable to us. It is an apt metaphor, and an important reminder, that for all we’ve come to know of Pootoogook’s searing, evocative work there will always be far more that rests just beyond reach. In the accompanying story, Caoimhe Morgan-Feir considers a lesser known aspect of Pootoogook’s oeuvre in the form of her spiritual and psychological portraiture and the unique visual lexicon the artist explored over the course of her brief and brilliant career. Similar explorations and representations of the self are unpacked, examined and presented in our second Feature, “Uvanga/Self: Picturing Our Identity” by Inuk writer and artist Adina Tarralik Duffy, whose expansive

Paper

and moving essay brings together the work of such illustrious graphic artists as Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007), Jamasee Pitseolak, Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002) and Jutai Toonoo (1959–2015), among others. The proximity and intimacy of Duffy’s piece is likewise visible in our interview with Eric Anoee Jr. on the early drawings of his late father, Eric Anoee Sr. (1924–1989). This remarkable collection of works on paper, created in the 1930s and produced largely on scraps of notebooks, overflows with images of landscapes, people and animals, as well as housing, airplanes, boats and other markers of the rapid and radical changes taking place in Arviat, NU, at the time. Finally, our Portfolio “Cutting Edge: Paper Today” brings together the work of nine diverse artists to offer a small glimpse of the immense talent and energetic future of those creating new forms on paper in Canada now. Complementing the profiles of these exciting contemporary artists, the important contributions of Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992), Helen Kalvak, CM, RCA (1901–1984) and Agnes Nanogak Goose (1925–2001) are also highlighted in this issue, which seeks to recontexualize the work and legacies of more familiar personalities while introducing you to fresh faces and dynamic new forms. Britt Gallpen Editorial Director

Front

Joar Nango, Sámi Shelters #1 - 5, 2009–. Hand-knitted woollen sweaters in ten different shades of colour. Courtesy of the artist

ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᑦ Among All These Tundras 4 September – 27 October 2018 Asinnajaq, Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory, Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter, Carola Grahn, Marja Helander, Sonya Kelliher-Combs, Joar Nango, Taqralik Partridge, Barry Pottle, Inuuteq Storch, Couzyn van Heuvelen, Allison Akootchook Warden ellengallery.concordia.ca

Curated by Heather Igloliorte, Charissa von Harringa and Amy Prouty

Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Conseil de recherches en sciences humaines

October 24 to December 16, 2018

Courtesy of Imago Mundi / Luciano Benetton Collection.

Meryl McMaster, Wayfinding, 2015, mixed media, 10 x 12 cm.

IMAGO MUNDI â&#x20AC;&#x201C; GREAT AND NORTH 760 Canadian artists including Inuit and Indigenous artists from across North America Curated by Francesca Valente and Jennifer Karch VerzĂ¨

This sweeping exhibition, part of the global Imago www.facebook.com/OnsiteOCADU

Mundi project, creates a snapshot of contemporary art across the country today.

@onsite_at_ocadu @ONSITEatOCADU

Presented for the first time in Canada, it features 775 small-format works by established and

www.ocadu.ca/onsite www.imagomundiart.com/exhibitions/great-and-north

emerging artists, writers, designers, architects and writers, including more than 350 Indigenous artists. FREE ADMISSION 199 Richmond St. W. (ground floor) Toronto, ON, Canada, M5V 0H4

THANK YOU

PHOTO NUNAVUT ARTS & CRAFTS ASSOCIATION

“I want to thank our donors for their support and enthusiasm. As our artists pass and new ones emerge, your generosity continues to provide dedicated time, resources and opportunities to develop as well as share their work.”

HELEN KALOON BOARD MEMBER, INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Sustainers $5,000+ Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron (KAMF) The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation Ann and Michael Lesk Patrick Odier John and Joyce Price (KAMF)

$2,500–$4,999 Susan Carter

$1,000–$2,499 The Assaly Family, in honour of their sons René Balcer Andrew Chodos Donald and Pat Dodds Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. David Forrest Janice Gonsalves Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Inuit Art Society (Publications) Katarina Kupca David and Liz Macdonald (KAMF) Christine Macinnes Kathryn Minard (KAMF) The Michael and Sonja Koerner Charitable Foundation

$500–$999 Jordan Banks, in honour of Paul Desmarais III Shary Boyle Inuit Art Quarterly

Nakurmiik! You, the generous donors listed below, ensure the Inuit Art Quarterly is published and that artists throughout Inuit Nunangat are supported and celebrated. Your gift provides stable funding for our programs year-round and encourages the exciting future of Inuit art. The Inuit Art Foundation relies on the kind support of donors like you to do this important work and is pleased to recognize donors who have contributed between June 2017 and June 2018. Thank you so much! Yvonne C. Condell Jon and Val Eliassen Patricia Feheley Erik Haites Margaret and Roger Horton Joram Piatigorsky Paul Pizzolante Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Mark Richardson Sanford and Deborah Riley Mark Rittenhouse Leslie Roden-Foreman David Sproule, in honour of Jean Katherine Sproule Barbara Turner Gail Vanstone Joyce Nies and Peter Witt (Publications) Norman Zepp

$250–$499 James Abel, in honour of Xanthipi and Christopher Abel Heather Beecroft, in honour of artists’ education Matthew Bradley-Swan Denise Cargill Lyyli Elliott Lynne Eramo Leah Erickson Alana Faber Harald Finkler and Nadine Nickner Yvonne and David Fleck Alain Fournier James M. Harris Heather Igloliorte and Matthew Brulotte, in memory of Philip Igloliorte Ingo Hessel, in memory of Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok

Lou Jungheim and Thalia Nicas, in memory of Thomas Webster (Publications) Joyce Keltie A.B. Kliefoth, MD, in honour of the IAF staff (KAMF) Linda Lewis and Lorie Cappe Peter Lyman, in honour of Tagak Curley Patricia McKeown Richard Mohr, in honour of Heather Beecroft (Publications) Scott Mullin The New York Community Trust, Bell-Jacoby Family Fund Margaret Newall Allan Newell Michael J. Noone Sharon and Lee Oberlander, in honour of David Ruben Piqtoukun (Publications) Susan A. Ollila Paula Santrach Celine Saucier Muriel Smith Michael and Melanie Southern Elizabeth Steinbrueck Cedar Swan Jay and Deborah Thomson (Publications) Carol Thrun David and Catherine Wilkes (Publications) and two anonymous donours (KAMF [1])

$100–$249 Amy Adams John and Sylvia Aldrich Lea Algar-Moscoe Paul Alkon Jim Bader Christel Bieri Catherine Birt

Fall 2018

THANK YOU

Karen Brouwers, in honour of Elisapee Ishulutaq Kaaren Brown Tobi Bruce Peter Camfield Mary Campbell Carol Cole, in honour of Billy Gauthier Celia Denov Sophie Dorais Leslie Eisenberg Ed Friedman Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Judith Gavin Barbara A. Goetzelman Claire Gold Deborah D. Gordon Peter Goring John A. Hanjian Tekla Harms Shawn Hassell Molly Heines Carol Heppenstall Albert Holthuis Dale Horwitz (KAMF) James Igloliorte Mark Igloliorte Robert Jackson Vic Janzen Carola Kaegi Johanna Kassenaar Nancy Keppelman Rawlson O’Neil King (KAMF) Jo-Ann Kolmes Ellen Lehman (Endowment) Val K. Lem (KAMF) Joe and Sandra Lintz Dr. Marie A. Loyer Maija M. Lutz Susan Marrier Mason Studio Elizabeth McKeown G. Lester McKinnon

Scott White Ditte Wolff Mark and Margie Zivin and five anonymous donors (KAMF [1])

Shannon McManus Robert Michaud Anne Milochik and Steve Potocny Joanna Mizaga Nancy Moore Gary Nelson Louisa L. O’Reilly Donna and Hal Olsen Christa Ouimet and Woody Brown (Endowment) Maria Parsons Kate Permut Ann Posen Frank Purcell (Publications) Bayard D. Rea Leslie Reid Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Marcia Rioux Shelia Romalis Judith Rycus Paul Shackel Mark Shiner Seiko Shirafuji Janet Shute Colleen Suche Charles Tator Marie-Josée Therrien Hunter Thompson Roslyn Tunis, in honour of Alysa Procida Peter Van Brunt Manon Vennat James and Louise Vesper, in honour of James Maynard Vesper Mary Jo Watson Gord Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley (Endowment) Sarah Whelchel, in honour of Adventure Canada

PRIMARY SUPPORTER

INUIT ART QUARTERLY AND PROFILES SUPPORT

Friends of the Foundation Up to $99 Manasiah Akpaliapik Mary Anglim Eric Anoee (Endowment) Ujarak Appadoo Catherine Badke Susan Baker Black Dog Publishing Terry Bladholm David Burns (KAMF) Caroline Chan Claudia Christian Anne-Marie Danizio François Dumaine (KAMF) Pat English Shirley Finfrock Alexander Ganong Paul Gemmiti Alan and Paula Goldstein Susan Griswold Barbara Hale Kathryn Hanna Mary Hanson Janet Heagle Patricia Hinton Jacqueline Hynes Angela Jones Robert Kirkpatrick Malcolm Kottler Peter Kovacik Mary Lawrence Breinig

Rebecca Lee, in honour of David Lee Louise Logan Laura MacDonald Catherine Madsen Edward Maloney Walter Ian Marquis Doyleen McMurtry Rowena Moyes Barbara Myslinski Suzanne F. Nash Heinrich Nemetz Susan Newlove Arlene Nichols Ronald Olin Pierre-François Ouellette Helena Rati, in honour of Andre Forni Wendy Rittenhouse Anita Romaniuk Robert Rosenbaum Evelyn R. Savitzky Mari Shantz Scenery Slater Gregory Sonek Ann Sprayregen (KAMF) Rosalind Sweeney-McCabe Bertha K. Thompson Darlene Tymn Lowell Waxman John Weber, in honour of Gina Montevecchi Michael Wiles Edward Allan Wright Bea Zizlavsky and six anonymous donors (KAMF [1]), one in honour of Helen Mary Rapp

Bequests Virginia Watt Perpetual Trust

Why I Give “By supporting the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Fund, you are investing in a wider perspective of what Inuit art is, and you are directly investing in artists who are doing innovative things. I would encourage anybody to really take advantage of that opportunity.” RAWLSON O’NEIL KING

Please Consider Supporting the Next 30 Years: How You Can Help

IGLOO TAG TRADEMARK PROGRAM SUPPORT

FUNDED BY THE ECONOMIC DIVERSIFICATION GRANT OF THE INDIGENOUS ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT FUND

Paper

Donations are essential to the programs that promote and celebrate Inuit art and artists. As a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282), the Inuit Art Foundation welcomes donations, sponsorships, legacy gifts and in-kind contributions. The Inuit Art Foundation wants to hear from you! Contact us at contact@inuitartfoundation.org or 647-498-7717. 9

Front

FOUNDATION UPDATE

MESSAGE FROM THE BOARD

The Celebration Continues

Bravo, Inuit Art Foundation! Bravo, Inuit Art Quarterly! In June, the IAF celebrated its 30th anniversary at the opening of Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak, at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, ON. Our festive reception announced Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory as the recipient of the inaugural Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award. In other unprecedented news, the IAQ was nominated for four National Magazine awards, taking silver in One of a Kind Storytelling for “30 Artists to Know.” We are filled with pride that “30 Artists” was also profiled by Magazines Canada’s Showcasing Success series. Meanwhile, the Igloo Tag and other IAF programs are in active planning and development. Alongside these celebrations, we would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to Beatrice Deer for her service as Secretary-Treasurer and wish her all the best in her artistic pursuits. The important story behind these headlines is this: quite simply, IAF has a phenomenal staff that is dedicated, talented and hardworking. We are grateful to them and thrilled that the IAF has recently moved to an improved office space where staff can work more comfortably. The IAF’s 30th anniversary is also a time for heartfelt thanks to the loyal artists, communities, readers, institutions and generous donors who have always believed in us. The IAF community has worked through many challenges, and today we are confident and inspired by what lies ahead in our future. Jamie Cameron Board Member, Inuit Art Foundation

Thanks to you, the artists, collectors, curators, dealers, subscribers, donors and enthusiasts who support the Inuit Art Foundation, Inuit art continues to be strengthened and celebrated across Canada and internationally.

Follow us on Twitter: @InuitArtFdn Like us on Facebook: Inuit Art Foundation Follow us on Instagram: inuitartfoundation Inuit Art Quarterly

The Inuit Art Foundation: Your Home for Inuit Art Supporting Artistic Dreams: The Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award The inaugural Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award was awarded to Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory at a special ceremony at the Art Gallery of Ontario, just prior to the public opening of Tunirrusiangit. Founding donors John and Joyce Price presented Laakkuluk with the award, alongside IAF President Mathew Nuqingaq and surrounded by members of the Inuit art community. “Kenojuak Ashevak really opened new realms of imagination and new realms that allowed people to see themselves and show themselves at the same time,” Laakkuluk said in accepting the award. “And, it is overwhelming for me to think her spirit is touching mine so closely, or being near to mine. I am so grateful and humbled to be in this huge spirit of art.” The Prices also announced that they, along with supporter Erik Haites, will be matching donations made to the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Fund to help continue the award in perpetuity. Thank you to everyone who was able to attend this special event and thank you to the donors who support this award: John and Joyce Price, Erik Haites, Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron, David Burns, François Dumaine, Ginette Dumouchel, Carol Ann Ellett, 10

Patricia Feheley, Dale Horwitz, Rawlson O’Neil King, A.B. Kliefoth, Val Lem, Maija Lutz, David and Liz Macdonald, Paul Machnik, Catherine Madsen, Marcia Miller, Kathryn Minard, Suzanne Nash, Ann Sprayregen, and three anonymous donors. Fall 2018

FOUNDATION UPDATE

Supporting Careers: The Virginia J. Watt Scholarship Congratulations to Niap, the recipient of the 2018 Virginia J. Watt Scholarship! The Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal has acquired ᑲᑕᔾᔭᐅᓯᕙᓪᓛᑦ Katajjausivallaat, le rythme bercé (2018) by Niap as part of their permanent collection. “Without the scholarship I received from the Inuit Art Foundation, this project, which had been a vision of mine since 2013, wouldn’t have been possible.” This piece was originally exhibited at Oboro in Montreal, QC, as part of the Festival de Casteliers.

Supporting Critical Discourse: Inuit Art Quarterly Awarded National Honours The IAQ received a Silver Medal for One of a Kind Storytelling for the “30 Artists to Know” Portfolio from the Fall 2017 Anniversary issue at the annual National Magazine Awards held in Toronto this past June. A first for the magazine, the piece featured contributions from 30 artists, curators, writers and arts administrators, including 18 Inuit contributors, who helped to create a rich, layered and multigenerational celebration of Inuit art, past and present. The IAQ was also nominated for Best Magazine: Art and Literary, Art Direction Grand Prix and Best Editorial Package.

To learn more about donating on behalf of a friend or loved one visit: www.inuitartfoundation.org/ donate/give

Supporting SelfDetermination and Market Access: Igloo Tag Consultations This summer, the IAF continued its consultations to shape the future of the iconic Igloo Tag Trademark. The first consultation in Inuit Nunangat took place during the Nunavut Arts Festival in Iqaluit, NU, on July 7, with the second following during the Great Northern Arts Festival in Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, on July 18. Attendees discussed important issues related to collaborative works, licensing criteria and cast-moulded jewellery. The IAF also issued its first licences, to Iqaluit-based gallery Carvings Nunavut and to the Winnipeg Art Gallery Shop, the latter on Nunavut Day. For more information on the trademark, current licensees, upcoming consultations dates and how to add your voice to these important conversations by participating in an online consultation, see inuitartfoundation.org/iglootag. Thank you to the Canada Council for the Arts and the Government of Ontario’s Indigenous Economic Development Fund for their support of these critical consultations. Thank you also to the many donors who support the Inuit Art Foundation’s many programs. The programs we offer the public and Inuit artists are only possible because of you.

Become a Sustainer and help support the Inuit Art Foundation! Inuit Art Foundation Sustainers Program The Inuit Art Foundation relies on the generosity of donors like you to develop programming to support the work of Inuit artists. The IAF is excited to announce the launch of our Sustainers Program. All donors are recognized in the IAQ and on the website in the following categories: $5,000+ · Opportunity to be affiliated with a specific IAF project or program. · Annual luncheon with IAF to discuss new programs and explore new works by Inuit artists. · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website.

BELOW

$2,500+ · Annual luncheon with IAF to discuss new programs and explore new works by Inuit artists. · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website.

The inaugural Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award winner Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory, joined by the Inuit Art Foundation Board of Directors and Executive Director.

$1,000+ · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $500+ · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website.

Paper

$250+ · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $100+ · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website.

Front

5 WORKS

Word Play IAF staff share some of their favourite works that explore verse, letters and syllabics

Jutai Toonoo (1959–2015 Kinngait) — LEFT

Shitty Fucken Day 2013 Oil stick 121.9 × 121.9 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS MADRONA GALLERY

Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter (b. 1993 Edmonton/ Calgary) — BELOW

Insecurity Blanket 2013 Fabric, embroidery floss and batting 121.9 × 182.9 cm

Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter

Insecurity Blanket (2013) Objects are often the sole witness to our most private admissions of self-doubt. In Nasogaluak Carpenter’s Insecurity Blanket, the childhood icon of protection is instead inscribed with the transcripts of anxietyladen whispers of young adulthood, muttered into stale covers over countless sleepless nights. Bound into the patchwork surface are meme-based truisms, from “I don’t know what I’m doing” and “Am I an artist yet?” to an existential image of an emoji stabbing itself in the eye, all meticulously detailed in delicate black thread. Framed by fabric adorned with modest bouquets, recalling the decorative cushions and throws littering family basements, the textile is far more than a blanket statement. It is confession, absolution and, perhaps, a sense of security in all this uncertainty. EVAN PAVKA

Managing Editor

Jutai Toonoo

Shitty Fucken Day (2013) I would guess that everyone, at least once, has had such a frustrating day that everything, even the view out of your window, seems pretty fucking shitty. Jutai Toonoo’s (1959– 2015) Shitty Fucken Day deftly captures the spirit of such a miserable day. At first glance, the landscape looks roughly rendered, its uneven edges and sketched interior hastily captured on the page. However, on closer inspection, the sky is actually made up of hundreds of small “fucks,” and the land hundreds more Inuit Art Quarterly

“shits,” like so many small irritations piled on top of each other. The muted, limited colour palette enhances the sense of frustration written into the landscape and, in turn, encourages the viewer’s sneaking suspicion that once he collected them all on the page, Jutai was likely all out of “fucks” to give on that particular “shitty” day. ALYSA PROCIDA

Executive Director and Publisher 12

Fall 2018

5 WORKS

Selena Tucktoo (b. 1949 Talurjuaq) — Untitled (Many rocks but little bread) 1973 Gelatin silver print 17.3 × 17.5 cm ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO

Selena Tucktoo

Untitled (Many rocks but little bread) (1973) 5/ Understanding an artist’s intent can be difficult, with the visual cues on offer going a long way in deciphering meaning. In this photograph from the early 1970s, Tucktoo captures a small group seated on a rocky outcrop near Talurjuaq (Taloyoak), NU. Just above them, painted in bold white letters on the uneven surface, are the words “Many rocks but little bread by C.F. ” There indeed appears to be no bread but many rocks, making the script easily interpreted as deeply political and reflective of a time

of immense social upheaval. However, when asked, Tucktoo laughed, offering an altogether different reading: “My siblings, every now and then we go camping… when we have no place to pitch our tent: many rocks but little bread.” Although text in art can offer a tantalizingly clear answer, it all too often spurs a false start down the wrong path. ASHLEY MCLELLAN

Profiles Editor

Anirnik Ragee

Field of Verse (2004) This print, Ragee’s only work to be included in one of the Annual Cape Dorset Print Collections, features interlocking and colliding syllabic characters rendered in a palette of vibrant yellow, orange and red, cool blue, green and purple, brown and inky black. Printed by master printer Pitseolak Niviaqsi, RCA (1947–2015), Field of Verse is an abstract outlier in a collection dominated by images of birds and other wildlife and was created by the artist in her late 60s as part of an open invitation for community members to work in the studio. The result is a pulsating image that sways and nudges across the page, creating undulating shapes that spill over the edges of its boxy form, with Ragee’s layered Inuktut words creating a complex word puzzle, seemingly legible only in small fragments. Taken from a distance, however, its composition invites the eye to form and reform swirling skies or layered horizons or something else altogether. Paper

Thomassie Kudluk

Woman Taking Man Home from Pool Hall (1976) I’m grateful that Thomassie Kudluk (1910– 1989), one of Nunavik’s most eccentric artists, inscribed his carvings with detailed captions. Through translation, I am able to better understand unusual compositions like Woman Taking Man Home from Pool Hall. Initially, the small figure grouping— a man hanging upside down off of another figure’s shoulders—seems surreal. But, Kudluk’s inscription reveals what is really at play—a scene of domestic struggle rendered in a comic way. Kudluk’s works are often quite humourous, but generally require the viewer to read the inscription to be in on his joke. His works make me wonder what stories are hiding in other carvings that will never be fully understood because their creators, unlike Kudluk, didn’t write them down. JOHN GEOGHEGAN

Senior Editor

BRITT GALLPEN

Editorial Director 13

Anirnik Ragee (b. 1935 Kinngait) — Field of Verse 2004 Lithograph 35.6 × 35.6 cm

Thomassie Kudluk (1910–1989 Kangiqsuk) — Woman Taking Man Home from Pool Hall 1976 Inscription: She says her boyfriend is always going to the pool hall, and she is bringing him back. Stone 15.5 × 7.6 × 6.3 cm

WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

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HIGHLIGHTS

Exhibition Highlights A behind-the-scenes look at some notable projects on view now

To see a full list of exhibitions, visit our enhanced calendar online at: inuitartfoundation.org/calendar

Zacharias Kunuk (b. 1957 Iglulik/Montreal) — Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner (still) 2001 Film 172 min COURTESY ISUMATV

OCTOBER 6, 2018–JANUARY 7, 2019

Art for a New Understanding: Native Voices, 1950s to Now Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art BENTONVILLE, ARKANSAS

Featuring work by Isuma, Tanya Lukin Linklater, Sonya Kelliher-Combs and many more, this significant touring exhibition, curated by Mindy Besaw, Candice Hopkins and Manuela Well-Off-Man, launches this fall and explores new perspectives on contemporary American art through the work of Indigenous artists—including those from Canada and the North. Here, Hopkins discusses the need to chart this parallel history and the artistic collaborations that define it:

Inuit Art Quarterly

This exhibition is an opportunity to not simply have another survey, but to look at the origin points of what we define as contemporary Native art today. We decided to go back to the 1950s and trace these different lineages as a chance to show, in a mainstream museum, that these are longstanding practices with their own distinct histories, and to focus on artists who have made a deep impact. One of those artists is the collective Isuma. They are featured prominently, as are other artists from the North, particularly Alaska. There are still many stereotypes in regards not only to Native people but also to what constitutes Native art. One of the things we did very consciously with this exhibition was to always challenge what 14

those expectations might be. Something I am particularly excited by are the cross dialogues that we have been able to encourage between artists from the North. For instance, Tanya Lukin Linklater’s work is being made in direct relation to work by Sonya Kelliher-Combs. Tanya has always followed Sonya’s work, but has not had the chance to do anything in collaboration with her; this is really an homage. What I hope the exhibition does is present the many lesser-known instances of collaboration where Indigenous artists were not only leading in terms of improvisation, but also experimenting with new materials. It’s time for this work to no longer exist in a parallel world. – Candice Hopkins Fall 2018

HIGHLIGHTS

SEPTEMBER 4–OCTOBER 27, 2018

ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᑦ

Among All These Tundras Leonard & Bina Ellen Art Gallery, Concordia University MONTREAL, QC

This fall, Dr. Heather Igloliorte, Amy Prouty and Charissa von Harringa convene 11 contemporary Indigenous artists, working across the circumpolar North, who explore themes of land, language, sovereignty and food security. Shared histories of colonialism unite the artists and their works to poetically address ongoing issues surrounding climate change, traditional knowledge and industry. As a primer, the curators share three highlights from this much-anticipated exhibition:

Couzyn van Heuvelen (b. 1987 Bowmanville) —

Inuuteq Storch (b. 1989 Sisimiut/ Copenhagen) —

Taqralik Partridge (Kuujjuaq/ Kautokeino) —

ABOVE

CENTRE

BELOW

Qamutiik 2014 Found pallets 243.8 × 91.4 × 19 cm

Old Films of the New Tale (still) 2016 Two-channel video 16 min 10 sec

Tusarsauvungaa? 2018 Mixed-media installation Dimensions variable

COURTESY THE ARTIST

In Qamutiik (2014), as in much of Couzyn van Heuvelen’s work, there is a strong focus on materiality. By applying new fabrication techniques and materials to a timeless Inuit object, the tense in-between spaces of past and present are revealed. Here, a wooden pallet and a qamutiik (seld)—both objects used to transport food and other goods over great distances—appear as if interrupted during an act of transformation. The synthesis is an uneasy one; instead of enhancing the form’s functionality, the blending of technologies has rendered both objects obsolete. – Amy Prouty

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Old Films of the New Tale (2016) by Kalaallit visual artist Inuuteq Storch presents rare colour archival film footage digitally overlaid with his own music, sounds and voice recordings. Scenes of Greenlandic life— hunting and living on the land—are materialized through vibrant imagery: a seal hunt, women in kamiik and nuilarmiut, Greenlandic children at school absorbed in reading, roses in splendid pinks and more. The discordant sounds of screechy violins, rueful rappings and utterances in Kalaallisut eulogize the past yet give voice to the land as an omnipresent witness and benefactor of memory itself. – Charissa von Harringa

Taqralik Partridge shares a sneak peek of her work-in-progress Tusarsauvungaa? (2018), the series of sewn and beaded mixed-media pieces she will contribute to Among All These Tundras. In this work, Partridge isolates the front panels of an amauti (woman’s parka)—worn at the chest or over the womb and usually adorned in colourful, elaborate beadwork— in order to draw attention to their beauty and significance to Inuit women. Partridge draws on a seamstress’ cache of fabric, skin and trim as well as a variety of other materials, including lures and coins; we imagine how the materials will catch the light, or even how they might chime and jingle as the wearer walks. Perhaps this is to what the title [Can you hear me?] alludes. – Heather Igloliorte Front

HIGHLIGHTS

NOVEMBER 17, 2018–MARCH 24, 2019

Nivinngajuliaat from Baker Lake Winnipeg Art Gallery WINNIPEG, MB

Twelve large-scale wall hangings, known as nivinngajuliaaq in Inuktut, from the collections of the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG) and the Government of Nunavut will take over the expansive Eckhardt Hall at the WAG this fall. The exhibition will highlight this unique art form that emerged from artists living and working in Qamani’tuaq (Baker Laker), NU, from the 1970s to 1990s. We hear from curator Krista Ulujuk Zawadski on her favourite pieces along with her fondness for the craft and skill behind each work: I don’t know if it’s just something we do up North, but oftentimes when you see someone sewing the first thing you look at is their stitching. As a kid, I remember learning how to sew and worrying about showing my stitching to my sisters in case I got in trouble with my grandmother. I’m always excited to see these lines—all of the work that goes into every single stich. It meant something as they stitched it. This is a lot like beadwork, when you look closely and realize that every single bead was put there intentionally by someone. One of the pieces in the exhibition that I love is Thirty Faces (1974) by Marion Tuu’luq, RCA (1910–2002) from the WAG

collection. The colours, symmetry and the geometric shapes really catch my eye. Another piece that I am particularly excited about is an untitled work by Jessie Oonark, OC, RCA (1906–1985) from the early 1980s. I want people to see the skillset these artists had, as wall hangings were not the only thing these women and men did. They learned to sew traditional clothing, techniques that we still use today, and transferred these skills into their artworks. As the art form of nivinngajuliaaq originated in Qamani’tuaq, I’m excited for people to see the skill and legacy of many of these nowpassed artists from this prolific community. – Krista Ulujuk Zawadski

Marion Tuu’luq (1910–2002 Qamani’tuaq) — Thirty Faces 1974 Wool felt, embroidery floss and thread on wool stroud 141 × 124 cm COLLECTION WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

SEPTEMBER 14, 2018

The Ballad of the Runaway Girl By Elisapie LABEL BONSOUND

Six years since her sophomore effort, Salluit-born, Montreal-based, singersongwriter Elisapie returns this fall with a third solo album that weaves together English, French and Inuktut. Recorded in a small chalet in rural Quebec and inspired by an intimate demo made with two fellow musicians, the album is an unflinching take on depression, motherhood and identity. We asked Elisapie to discuss her process for the record and the journey home that inspired it: Trying to make music again was quite scary. But, all of a sudden, my voice had to come out. I was trying to really push myself, and it was a bit painful. I only had a few songs done, but I mainly had covers of Inuit CBC recordings that I had listened to when I was depressed. I was obsessed with these songs and decided I would simply make a cover album—just for myself, with no pressure of other listeners. All of a sudden, what came out of these cover songs and my own music was something really beautiful. Inuit Art Quarterly

They blended so well. I’m happy because I know the record is going to reach different people in the North and in the South too. It’s important for people to understand who we are—not just the cold, snow and suicides. This is definitely an album with its own rhythm, and I think it also has to do with me going back to the North. After so many years of living in the South, I realized that I needed to redefine who I was. What was going to keep me sane was to go back— to take time to be with family and nature. I wanted to create an emotion, because what I felt in living and recording in the moment was something magical. We have this amazing capacity to live in the moment, and that’s what every individual wants to connect with. Realizing that this is how we heal—by living in the present—is probably what saved me. So, this album is really about a journey. It’s about affirming who I am— as a woman, as a mother—and about trying to find those core values we have as Inuit. – Elisapie 16

Cover art for Elisapie’s The Ballad of the Runaway Girl COURTESY BONSOUND

Fall 2018

Congratulations Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory inaugural KAMA recipient

SUPPORT THE FUTURE OF THE KENOJUAK ASHEVAK MEMORIAL AWARD GIVE TODAY AND DOUBLE YOUR GIFT All gifts made by December 31, 2018 will be matched by our generous donors John & Joyce Price and Erik Haites, up to $20,000 Kenojuak Ashevak, Red Fox (detail), 2012

Please support more Inuit artists by donating today

Congratulations Kenojuak Cultural Centre

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Front

CHOICE

Manasiah Akpaliapik and Pudlo Pudlat Muskox and Our Massive Friend

by Erik Haites

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

CHOICE

A collection, in my view, should be broadly representative of the available material, while also reflecting the tastes and interests of the collector.

About a decade ago, after having accumulated numerous pieces of art of various genres, I asked myself whether or not I was a collector. It was then that I expressly decided to be a collector of Inuit art; most of the works I owned at the time were Inuit prints together with a few carvings. Today, I limit myself to editioned prints—no drawings unless they relate to a print—and the occasional carving. A collection, in my view, should be broadly representative of the available material, while also reflecting the tastes and interests of the collector. My interests are reflected in a focus on experimental prints and printmaking media—stone block, wood block, engraving plate, lino block and stencil. A collector, in my opinion, also has a responsibility to care for the art in their collection. Now, any older prints I acquire are restored and all frames have been upgraded to museum quality. In tandem, my support for institutions that support and celebrate Inuit art, such as the Kenojuak Cultural Centre, the Inuit Art Foundation and the Inuit Art Society, has increased. Many of my favourite artists are now well represented in my collection: Niviaksiak

Manasiah Akpaliapik (b. 1955 Ikpiarjuk) —

(1908–1959), Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013), Jessie Oonark, OC, RCA (1906–1985) and Kananginak Pootoogook, RCA (1935–2010). Of the newer artists, I am especially fond of the work of Tim Pitsiulak (1967–2016) and Ningiukulu Teevee. The continued emergence of talented Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artists, including Teevee, as well as Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA and Nicotye Samayualie, is also a pleasure to observe. My task here, however, is to discuss one of my favourite pieces—a very difficult choice to make. As a nod to the composition of my collection, I have chosen both a muskox sculpture and print that I display together. The sculpture, Muskox (c. 2002) by Manasiah Akpaliapik, depicts a large, windswept muskox of whalebone, horn and stone, captured mid-run. It was advertised by the Canadian Arctic Gallery of Basel, Switzerland, in the Fall 2003 issue of Inuit Art Quarterly (page 17 for those of you with an IAQ collection). I purchased it after seeing a few additional photographs. Since the piece is carved from whalebone, I was required to secure a Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species

of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) approval from Environment Canada in order to bring it back to the country. Fortunately, that was not a problem. Today, Muskox stands below a copy of Our Massive Friend (1984) by Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992). This print, featuring a favourite subject of the artist, shows a single muskox rendered in black and brown ink, its face squarely facing the viewer. Taken together, the print and the sculpture create a satisfying aesthetic pair. The scale and lines of the face, as well as the horns in the print and the sculpture, are very similar. For good measure two other muskox prints—Kananginak’s Umingmuk (1973) and Pudlo’s Umingmuk (1973)—hang nearby: an interesting variety of interpretations of muskoxen by incredible artists who know them intimately. — Erik Haites is the President of Margaree Consultants Inc. and an avid collector of Inuit art. His collection includes works from all communities and spans the history of printmaking, featuring examples of the many different media that have been used.

Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992 Kinngait) —

OPPOSITE

RIGHT

Muskox c. 2002 Whalebone, horn and stone 53 × 93 × 53 cm

Our Massive Friend 1984 Stonecut 64 × 97 cm © DORSET FINE ARTS

PHOTO ERIN YUNES/ ABBOTT IMAGING

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Front

CHOICE

Josie Pitseolak Miniatures

by Janet Pitsiulaaq Brewster

I can smell fish drying on a rack and the faint scent of burning heather wafting around a summer camp surrounded by an expanse of nuna (tundra) stretching in every direction as far as the eye can see. Josie Pitseolak’s collection of miniaturized everyday items from an Inuit summer camp has the power to evoke these senses even if, unlike myself, the smell of the ocean is no longer in your nose from harvesting last night’s fish nets. Miniatures (c. 2004–6) evokes a sense of wonder too. How did he manage to create these remarkably accurate miniatures? Inuit Art Quarterly

A childish sense of pleasure, tinted with adult nostalgia, wells up inside me. I just want to aqaq them. More importantly, however, this collection bridges the gaps between traditional Inuit cultural output and the contemporary materials of Inuit art today, while shifting the lens through which his art is viewed. Pitseolak is an artist who clearly absorbs the subtleties of his surroundings. As a result, his work is thoughtful and unique.¹ Combining tradition, history and the artist’s lived experience, these miniatures are no exception. The tools are traditional 20

implements we have used in our summer camps for centuries. The food items could be found in Inuit grub-boxes of the midtwentieth century and harken back to a time when a supply ship would come once a year to the North. Brands like Klik and Pilot Biscuits became rationed staples for Inuit, as we were largely forced to abandon our nomadic lifestyles in favour of the permanent settlements the federal government desired. And when these items became more abundant with the expansion of sea and air deliveries, Inuit continued to buy them without the need to ration. Today, many Fall 2018

CHOICE

By reducing the scale of these objects, Pitseolak encourages me to reconsider the space they occupy both physically and historically.

Josie Pitseolak (b. 1976 Mittimatalik) — Miniatures c. 2004–6 Mixed media Dimensions variable PHOTOS INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Inuit have a nostalgic association with these brands and their graphic packaging. By reducing the scale of these objects, Pitseolak encourages me to reconsider the space they occupy both physically and historically. They evoke a sadness in me—a reminder that, for many Inuit, our relationship with the land has been interrupted. The reality is our use of traditional tools has steadily declined while our reliance on modern conveniences and diets has increased. Many are unabe to afford the expense of camping in the summer as it often requires a boat, with a full tank of gas, as well as hunting or fishing equipment and more. The miniaturized tools alongside the diminutive packaging from this collection symbolize the move away from a reliance on nuna for sustenance and a diet of inuksiutiit (traditional foods)— naturally balanced by seasonal availability— to rationing supplies in our grub-box to shopping for food at local stores. Despite the meloncholic undertone I find in this piece, I sense, as an Inuk artist,

the distinctly Inuit appreciation for art at the forefront of Pitseolak’s work. There is a sense of curiosity, acceptance, joy and encouragement among Inuit artists that stems from witnessing other artists express themselves. Like celebrated graphic artist Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016), Pitseolak’s work relays a sense of courage and bravery, of empowered self-expression on his own terms: as an individual, an Inuk and as an artist. By creating a work that is engaging to observers and layered with meaning, Josie’s miniatures exemplify a shift in contemporary Inuit art that allows viewers to see through a lens that frames both the individual approach of the artist as well as the collective Inuit experience. And, one that paves the way for Inuit artists today to find self-expression as they see fit. — Janet Pitsiulaaq Brewster is a multidisciplinary artist and Executive Director of the Nunavut Arts and Crafts Association.

NOTES

¹ When Pitseolak recently attended the Nunavut Arts Festival hosted by the Nunavut Arts and Crafts Association in Iqaluit, NU, I told him I wanted a pair of polar bear earrings, like the ones he was wearing, to which he answered he would rather be the only one to have them. That’s the kind of integrity with which he creates his art.

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Front

PROFILE

Damien Iquallaq

Damien Iquallaq (b. 1988 Uqsuqtuuq/ Iqaluktuuttiaq) — Muskoxen 2018 Mammoth ivory and muskox horn 7 × 35.6 × 10.2 cm

OPPOSITE

Traditional Inuit Tattoos 2016 Stone and copper 61 × 35.6 × 22.9 cm COURTESY INUITSCULPTURES.COM

COURTESY GALERIE ELCA LONDON

by John Geoghegan

“Apparently, the things I like to make aren’t all that popular,” claims Damien Iquallaq on a recent telephone call from Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU. He explains his favourite subjects to carve are spirits, Nuliajuk, muskoxen and figurative work. He carves them with incredible detail in unusual, exotic materials, imported from across the circumpolar North. Iquallaq developed an interest in artmaking as a teenager in his hometown of Uqsuqtuuq (Gjoa Haven), NU. Growing up, watching his grandfather Nelson Takkiruq (1930–1999) and others from the community carve, he felt compelled to be an artist. Iquallaq initially began carving in Uqsuqtuuq, however, his production flourished when he moved to Iqaluktuuttiaq in 2007. Quality carving material can be difficult to find in the High Arctic, especially in Iqaluktuuttiaq, “where people don’t harvest carving stone,” explains Iquallaq. While this may discourage some artists, it pushed Iquallaq’s creativity. Mammoth ivory, whale Inuit Art Quarterly

tooth, petrified wood imported from Russia and stone from Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, and Uqsuqtuuq are only some of the materials Iquallaq has incorporated into his expressive and unique works. Iquallaq is a master of his materials, but ivory is best suited for his intricate carving style. With it, he obtains incredible detail even on an exceptionally small scale. Carvings like Muskoxen (2018) reveal Iquallaq’s ability to imbue his work with incredible movement and texture–their qiviut (wool) is ruffled by the wind. The work also highlights Iquallaq’s deft ability with little-used materials like mammoth ivory. “Mammoth ivory is not a new material,” Iquallaq explains, “people have been working it for a long time, but I’d say it is new to the Inuit art world. I am one of very few Canadian Inuit artists to work with it.” Sourced from friends living in Siberia, the tusks of this long-extinct mammal are coveted by Iquallaq due to their substantial size, which is much larger than those of 22

walrus or narwhal. As his international clientele grows, mammoth ivory is also an ideal alternative, as it can be exported from Canada more easily than other marine mammals that are prohibited under the Marine Mammal Protection Act. Alongside local fauna, Inuit culture and traditional legends are the subject of many of Iquallaq’s most rousing works. In response to the resurgence of tattooing in his community, Iquallaq created Traditional Inuit Tattoos (2016)—two powerful arms emerging from solid rock that are wrapped in beautifully inlaid copper kakiniit (tattoos). The work is a testament to the resilience of Inuit culture and, equally, to Iquallaq’s ingenuity and creativity as an artist, always looking to experiment and improve his techniques. As we end our call, Iquallaq pauses: “I am going to be carving for the rest of my life.” I, along with the numerous supporters Iquallaq has and the many more he is sure to amass in the coming years, will be lucky if he does. Fall 2018

Untitled, 2018, 28 x 48.5, Pencil Crayon and Ink

SHUVINAI ASHOONA Nov 3 - 17, 2018 606 VIEW STREET - 250 383 4660 - WWW.MADRONAGALLERY.COM - info@madronagallery.com

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Convergence North/South September 8 - 29, 2018

www.feheleyfinearts.com gallery@feheleyfinearts.com 65 George Street, Toronto 416 323 1373

This exhibition of linocut prints is a collaborative project organized by Lyne Bastien, featuring three artists from Ivujivik, Nunavik - Qumaq Iyaituk, Mary Paningajak and Passa Mangiuk.

Artwork: Artist Unknown, COMPOSITION (SEDNA TRANSFORMATION)

Woman with Fish and Kakivak unidentified artist, Nunavik, ca. 1952

NEW ADDRESS: 1444 Sherbrooke Street West Montreal H3G 1K4

www.elcalondon.com | info@elcalondon.com | 514-282-1173 Paper

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The Spirit, the Self and Other Stories

Shopping at the co-op, a Coleman stove flanked by Robin Hood flour and salt, tender family portraits and interior scenes of feasting or lounging in front of the television, or perhaps of something darker—these are some of the now iconic images that have come to define the remarkable oeuvre of celebrated graphic artist Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016). What have been arguably less considered, however, are her psychological self-portraits, defined by their complex spiritual iconography and returned to again and again by the artist over her brief but prolific career.

ᑕᕐᓂᖅ, ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ

ᓂᐅᕕᕆᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑯᐊᐸᒃᑯᓂ, ᐅᓇ ᓱᐴᔫᖅ ᓴᓂᐊᓂᓗ ᐸᓚᐅᒑᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᕆᐅᖅ, ᓯᓚᒥ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᓂᕆᔪᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᖅᑐᑦ, ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑖᖅᓂᖅᓴᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᒋᕗᖅ - ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓚᖏ ᒫᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖏ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1969–2016). ᐅᓇ ᐊᐃᕙᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᒥᑭᓂᖅᓴᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᒥᓂᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑦᑑᑎ ᑕᕐᓂᒥ ᑐᑭᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑎᖅᕕᒌᓐᓇᐹ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑖᓗᒋᕙᓚᐅᖅ ᑕᖕᒋᑦ ᐱᓇᔪᒃᕕᕐᒐ ᓇᐃᑦᓘᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᑦᓗᒍ.

Revisiting Annie Pootoogook ᑎᑎᕋᐅᓯᕆᑲᓐᓂᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ

— by Caoimhe Morgan-Feir ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑐᖅ ᑮᕙ ᒧᐊᒐᓐ - ᕕᐅ

Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016 Kinngait) — PREVIOUS SPREAD

Composition (Hand with Praying Figure) 2006 Coloured pencil 50.8 × 66 cm ALL IMAGES REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL IMAGES COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1969–2016 ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ) — PREVIOUS SPREAD

ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐊᒡᒐᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᖓ) 2006 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᑦ ᑕᒡᕙᓂ ᑐᓂᔭᖏᑦ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᐅᑲᓐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᖅᑕᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᓐᖕᒐᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᓂᑦ

entered the studio, agreeing to work on drawings at home and to bring them in for the twice-weekly sales. Pootoogook began drawing in the West Baffin Eskimo Cooperative in earnest in 1997. Her work quickly caught the attention of William Ritchie, who was then the Arts Adviser at the studio. “I see so much that sometimes it all kind of looks the same, but Annie’s didn’t,” remembers Ritchie. “It was different, but Annie wasn’t an anomaly. [Her work] was like her mother’s. . . . I’ve worked with Napachie. I’ve worked with Kananginak [Pootoogook, RCA (1935–2010)]. I’d seen Itee [Pootoogook (1951–2014)]’s work. So, to see Annie come along in this vein, it made total sense.” When dealer Pat Feheley made a trip north to catch up on the latest work, Ritchie suggested she take a look at the drawings in Pootoogook’s shelf. “I looked through them, and I thought they were stunning,” recalls Feheley. “I literally went across the road to Jimmy Manning, who was at that point the Studio Manager, and said, ‘I have to break the rules, because I have got to get Annie Pootoogook in my show,’ and he said, ‘You will never sell those.’” That story, or versions of it, has become canon. Feheley’s inclusion of Pootoogook’s work in The Unexpected (2002) was an immediate success—all the pieces sold—and the artist’s first solo exhibition quickly followed at the gallery in 2003. The next three years were an incredibly productive time and larger shows and accolades followed: Pootoogook was awarded the Sobey Art Award in 2006 (still today it is hard to imagine that just three

Years ago, when I was working at an art gallery, I was surprised when a potential donation was rejected by the curatorial staff. They felt that the work wasn’t a strong example of that artist’s particular practice, which is a common enough line of thinking. But I wonder how these impressions are shaped—what constitutes an oeuvre’s strength? The enormous contribution that Annie Pootoogook made to contemporary drawing is a topic of universal agreement. Few artists have garnered the amount of attention in the Canadian media that Pootoogook secured; no other contemporary artist’s personal life has received the scrutiny that hers did. The fact that she captured life in the North during a time of transition, unflinchingly depicting even the hardest aspects of these changes, is the best-known interpretation of her work. But perhaps rearranging our mental furniture can allow for a different understanding of the life that Pootoogook presented. Most of the details of her biography (well-worn territory by now) are easy to agree upon. On a May day in 1969, Annie Pootoogook was born into a lineage of artists. Her mother, Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002), and her maternal grandmother, Pitseolak Ashoona, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), were trailblazing artists in their own right (among many other members of Pootoogook’s extended family). But their influence wouldn’t surface in Pootoogook for almost 30 years. Annie Pootoogook was a great artist, but she wasn’t a prodigy. She had living to do, including a move to Nunavik, before she returned to Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, in the mid-1990s and

Composition (Evil Spirit) 2004 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm — ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑑᕐᓐᖓᖅ) 2004 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᖏᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᒪᑕ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᑐᑭᓯᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ ᐊᒃᑑᑎᕐᑲᕐᓂᖏᓂᒡᓗ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕈᒫᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᑦ ᕐᑲᖕᒐᐅᓕᖅᐸᑦ. —

ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᑐᑦ, ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ, ᑲᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᑭᑐᔪᖅ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓇᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᒪᓐᖏᓪᖢᓂ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᖅᑎᖏᓐᓂᑦ. ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᖕᖐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᒋᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᔾᔪᓯᖓᓄᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᔪᒃᑲᒥᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᕙᖕᒪᑕ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ. ᐃᓱᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᖏ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᖔᑕ— ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᕙ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᖓᑕ ᓴᖕᖏᓂᖓ? ᐊᖕᖏᓂᖅᐹᖅ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᐋᓗᒃ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂᑦ ᑐᓂᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᒫᓐᓇᒧᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᐅᓕᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᕗᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥ ᐊᖕᖏᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐊᒥᓲᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᕐᔪᐊᖑᑎᒋᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑐᓴᐅᑎᓕᕆᔨᓂᑦ ᐅᓇ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐋᕿᒍᑎᑦᑎᐊᕈᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ; ᐱᑕᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ ᓱᑯᓴᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖃᓐᖏᓚᖅ ᑖᓐᓇᑐᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᓱᓕᕗᖅ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑕᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᑕᐃᓱᒪᓂ ᐊᓯᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᓚᐅᓐᖏᑐᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᐹᖑᒐᓗᐊᖅᐸᑕ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᔪᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᓯᑦᔨᕈᑎᔪᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᒍᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐋᕿᒋᐊᑲᓐᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓂᖅᐳᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓇᓱᒋᓚᐅᓐᖏᑕᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᕐ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᒍᑦ. ᑕᒪᕐᒥᑦᑎᐊᐸᓗᒃ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ (ᒫᓐᓇᐃᔪᖅ ᖃᐃᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᑑᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ) ᐊᖕᖏᖃᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒐᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᖕᒪᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᒪᐃ ᐅᓪᓗᕐᒥ 1969, ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂ. ᐊᓈᓇᖓ, ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1938–2002), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓵᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓ, ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᐊᓲᓇ, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), ᐃᒻᒪᑲᓪᓚᓂᒃ ᓄᑖᓂᒃ ᐊᖁᓯᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒍᑦ (ᐊᕙᑖᓂ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐳᑐᒍᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᑕᖑᑎᑲᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ). ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᔪᕆᖓᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑐᓐᓇᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑖᑉᓱᑎᑐᓇᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓂ 30 ᐅᑭᐅᓄᑦ. ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᓄᑲᖅᖠᐹᖑᒐᓗᐊᕋᒥ ᐱᓯᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᐃᓅᓯᒃᓴᖃᓚᐅᕋᒥ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓅᓪᖢᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᑯᐸᐃᖕᒧᑦ, ᐅᑎᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᑭᓐᖓᓄᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ, ᑭᑎᐊᓂ 1990-ᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓯᖅᖢᒍ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᒃ, ᐊᖕᖏᖅᖢᓂ ᓴᓇᖁᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᖕᖏᕋᒥᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᑉᐸᒡᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᓂᓗᒋᑦ ᒪᕐᕈᐃᕐᓗᓂ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᔭᕌᖓᑕ. ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ ᑯᐊᑉᐸᖓ ᑯᐊᑉ ᐅᓄᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 1997. ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᒍᓕᐊᒻ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔨᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ. “ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓗᐊᒧᑦ ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᐅᖂᔨᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐋᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ,” ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ. “ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᓂ ᓂᕆᐅᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᓕᐅᖅᖢᓂ. [ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ] ᐊᓈᓇᒥᑐᑦ... ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒋᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ. ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒋᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᑲᓈᖏᓐᓇᖅ [ᐳᑐᒍᖅ, RCA (1935–2010). ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᐊᐃᑎ [ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1951–2014)] ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ, ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᖕᒥᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐃᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑕᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᐅᖃᑎᒌᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᓇᑦᑎᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ.” ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᕆᓂᐊᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᔭᖅᑐᖅᖢᓂ ᒫᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᐅᓕᑦᓯ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᖁᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᖁᓕᕈᐊᖓᓂ. “ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᖅᐸᒃᑲ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐱᐅᔫᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᐃᑦ,” ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᑦ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ. “ᐅᐸᒡᖢᒍ ᐊᑭᑦᑎᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᒡᓗᖓ ᔨᒥ ᒫᓂᒃ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᓯᔨᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᖓ, ‘ᐱᖁᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᓱᕋᐃᓂᐊᕋᒪ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᓇ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒧᐊᖁᔭᕋ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᖁᓪᓗᒍ,” ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᓂ, ‘ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᔾᔮᓐᖏᑕᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ.” ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ

Paper

Fish on Floor in Kitchen 2001–2 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm

ᐃᖃᓗᒃ ᓇᑎᖓᓂ ᐃᒐᕕᒃ 2001–2 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᑦ, ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᓂᒥᓂ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓯᓂᐊᓕᕐᓂᕐᒪᑕ. ᕕᕼᐃᓕᐅᑉ ᐃᓚᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐅᓇ ᓂᕆᐅᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ (2002) ᐃᕐᖐᓐᓇᖅ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᐅᑲᐅᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ - ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᓕᒫᖏᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ - ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᔭᕆᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᓚᒥᑯᓗᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᓂᑦ ᒪᓕᒃᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 2003-ᒥ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐱᖓᓱᓄᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓄᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖕᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓴᕆᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ: ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᐊᐱ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2006 (ᓱᓕ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᑑᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐳᖅᑐᓂᖅᐹᒥᒃ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᒥᒃ), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᕋᕐᕖᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᔫᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐸᐅᕗ ᐸᓛᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑐᓛᓐᑐᒥ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2006; ᐅᑯᐊ ᒪᕐᕈᒃ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᕌᖓᑕ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ 2007; ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 12 ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑲᓛᓯᓐ, ᔮᒪᓂ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2007; ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᐊᒥᐊᓕᒐ ᐊᓪᓚᓄ ᓅ ᔪᐊᒃ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2009; ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒪᕐᕉᒍᒃ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐊᓂᒍᕌᖓᑕ ᓯᑦᓂ ᐊᓯᑐᐃᓕᐊ 2010. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ 2007-ᒥ, ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᖓ ᐊᓯᐊᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᓄᓇᖃᓕᖅᐸᒡᖢᓂ ᕿᒪᒃᐸᒡᖢᒍ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊ (ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᖑᓂᐊᒍᑦ ᐋᑐᕚ), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ, ᐊᒥᓱᓂ ᑐᓴᒐᒃᓴᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐊᖓᔮᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᕿᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ. (ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖓᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖓ ᐊᒡᒋᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᖁᓕᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᓄᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᓇᓱᒡᖢᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᒪᑕ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ). ᐅᓇ ᐱᐊᓚᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᒥᒃ ᖁᕙᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒪᒐᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᔪᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᑲᒪᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᑲ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑲᓴᑦᑎᐊᕆᖕᒪᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐳᐃᒍᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐊᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᐱᔭᕐᓂᕋᔭᖅᑐᖅ, ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᖅᑐᓯᒋᐊᑲᓐᓂᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᖓᓂ,

Revisiting Annie Pootoogook

Composition (Sadness and Relief for My Brother) 2006 Coloured pencil and ink 55.9 × 76.2 cm — ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᓄᒫᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᒐᓂ ᐊᓂᒥᓄᒃ) 2006 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ 55.9 × 76.2 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

ᐃᓱᒪᓗᑕ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᑎᓴᒪᐅᕗᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᑉ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᕐᑯᖅᓱᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒐᕕᒃ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᒥᑭᔪᖅ, ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᐅᔫᑎᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᑦ - ᑳᐱᓕᐅᕈᑎ, ᖁᐊᒃᑯᕕᖕᒧᑦ ᓂᐱᑦᑕᐅᑎᓕᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᐅᓗ ᐃᓕᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᒐᕕᐅᑉ ᓵᖓᓂ - ᐅᑯᐊ ᑐᓂᓯᔪᑦ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᒥᑭᔫᑕᐅᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐃᒐᕕᖓᓂ ᐃᒡᓗ ᓂᕕᖓᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᐊᖓᓂ ᒥᑭᔫᑎᑦ: ᐃᒐᐅᑉ ᐳᐊᓗᐊ, ᓯᑭᖑᔭᖅ ᓄᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ 1:55 ᐅᓐᓄᓴᒃᑯᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᖅᓯᐅᑎᖓ ᔫᓐᒦᓪᖢᓂ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᖃᖓᐅᓂᖓᓄ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗᒥ ᑕᑯᒥᓴᐅᑏᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᓴᕿᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑎᕐᕕᒋᑲᓐᓂᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ, ᐅᐸᑲᓐᓂᕆᐊᖃᓕᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᑲᓐᓂᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓯᕗᓪᓖᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓇᑎᖑᐊᑦ ᑭᓱᒥ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᕐᒪᖔᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᑐᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᓂᖓᓂᖅᓴᐅᔮᓕᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᓇᑎᕐᒦᖁᔨᔪᓐᓃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑕᕐᕋᖏᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕋᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑕᓗᐊᖅᑑᔮᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓗᓕᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑦᑎᐊᑲᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑭᖑᓪᓕᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓱᑲᐃᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓚᕙᓪᓕᐊᖑᔭᖅᖢᒋᑦ (ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᕐᕋᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐅᔾᔨᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑖᑉᓱᒪ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᑲᐅᑎᒋᕙᒡᖢᒋᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐅᐊᑦᑎᐊᕉᓕᕐᒪᑦ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᖢᓂ). ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑎᓕᐅᕆᕗᖅ ᐅᑎᕈᑎᒃ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖁᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑭᓱᒥᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕈᒪᔭᕐᒥᖕᓂᒃ. ᓴᕿᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᑲᖕᖑᓇᖅᑐᖃᕋᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ, ᒪᓕᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕋᑎᒃ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓐᓂᕈᑎᒃ ᐊᑯᓂᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᑲᖓᓂᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᖑᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᓅᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᑰᓇ ᐋᔩᖃᑎᒌᖏᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᒫᓐᓇ ᓈᒻᒪᒍᑎᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᑕ, ᐅᑎᕐᕕᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᒋ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐋᕿᐅᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕆᔨᐅᔪᒧᑦ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑖᑉᓱᒥᖓ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖃᖅᓯᒪᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᓕᓵᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᑦ - ᓯᕗᓂᑐᖃᖓᓂ ᓱᐊᐱᒥ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᓱᓕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᑯᒥᑦᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᒪᓚᐅᕋᓂᐅᒃ ᓱᓕ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ - ᐅᑯᐊ ᒥᑭᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᓂᖃᖅᑐᑦ. ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᑎᒥᖕᒍᐊᖅ ᐳᒃᑕᓛᖅᑐᒃ, ᑭᓴᖅᓯᒪᓇᑎᒃ ᓯᓚᑐᐃᓐᓇᒥ, ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᕐᕋᖅᑑᑎ ᑕᕋᖅᑐᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓇᒍ. ᑖᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᔾᔪᑎᕕᓂᖓ ᑎᑎᑯᓘᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᒥᒃ, ᐊᐅᐸᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓵᑕᓇᓯᖑᐊᖑᖂᔨᔪᒥᒃ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᖅ ᑐᐃᖓᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᕋᖅ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓯᒐᖓᓂ. ᑖᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᓯᐊ ᑭᓱᖑᐊᖅ, ᖁᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓲᕐᓗ ᖄᖅᓯᒪᐅᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᓯᕿᓂᖅ ᖃᐅᒪᓂᖓ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐊᐃᖏᓕ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᑦ ᖁᓛᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᕈᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. “ᐃᓅᓯᖓ ᑕᐃᒫᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᑐᖁᖓᔪᑎᑐᑦ ᓴᐳᑎᔭᐅᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᓱᓕ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ,” ᐅᖃᓕᒫᖅᖢᒍ ᑎᑎᖃᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖓᓂ. ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓱᖏᐅᖕᖓᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᒪᓕᑦᑎᐊᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᖓᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᕋᒥ. ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓ (ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐱᖃᑎᓕᒃ ᐱᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ) (2002–3) ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᓇᓗᓕᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᖕᖏᓕ. ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐱᐅᔪᖅ

years after her first solo show, she received this highly coveted prize), and exhibitions included a large showing at The Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery in Toronto, ON, in 2006; the Biennale de Montréal in 2007; documenta 12 in Kassel, Germany, in 2007; the National Museum of the American Indian in New York, in 2009; and the Biennale of Sydney in 2010. But by 2007, Pootoogook’s personal life had begun to shift. She was living on and off in Montreal, QC (and later in Ottawa, ON), and, as countless newspaper articles reported, addiction issues surfaced and her drawing became much more sporadic. (It has been reported that she continued to draw over the next 10 years, but it’s harder to account for these works, which weren’t all being filtered through the gallery system). It’s the kind of meteoric rise of which many artists could only dream. Looking over those earliest works that Feheley saw, it’s striking to see them bear such a resemblance to Pootoogook’s most iconic images. It would be easy, between these early works and her swift ascension in the art world, to assume that Pootoogook began as a fully-formed artist. There are interior scenes, such as an empty yellow kitchen, where small, mundane items—a coffee pot, fridge magnets, an ulu (woman’s knife) balanced against the counter—are rendered in crisp miniature. On the kitchen walls hang small objects: an oven mitt, a clock stopped at 1:55 p.m., and a calendar marking the month of June. These indicators of time and decorative elements appear again and again throughout Pootoogook’s work, but her drawing was a constant process of return, an urge to revisit and rework. In these early works tiled floors lack any sense of perspective, appearing more like a vertical checkerboard than a receding surface, shadows are non-existent and a sense of space is absent. These elements are addressed in later works and slowly added in (or, in the case of the shadows, a sudden realization that Pootoogook dives into, only to even out later). Pootoogook’s urge to return extends beyond technical capabilities into subject matter. There were no discreet phases to the artist’s work, no series that was worked on for a period of time and then moved beyond. It was always a negotiation. But it may be time for us, as viewers, to return as well and to reconsider some of the drawings that fit less neatly into the narrative that has come to define her. There is one work in the early batch—well before the press and the Sobey Award and documenta and leaving Kinngait—that looks a little different. Two figures float, unanchored in space, as strange mirror images of one another. Around one figure emanates sinuous lines in black, a red devilish creature floats at her shoulder and a rose wilts at her feet. Around the other figure, straight yellow lines burst, like rays of the sun, while an angel floats above and a radiant rose blooms. “Her life was like death before she was saved. After she

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

ᐲᖅᓯᔪᖅ ᐱᓐᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ) (2003–4) ᐊᖑᑎ ᓰᖁᖓᔪᖅ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᖄᖓᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᔭᖅ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᐸᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑐᒃᓯᐅᑎᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓴᒡᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑖᑉᓱᒧᖓ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᒥᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᓯᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖑᐊᓕᕌᖓᒥ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᖔᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ - ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᒡᕗᖓ ᐋᕿᖁᐅᑎᑦᑎᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ - ᐅᑯᐊ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓯᒪᓗᐊᕌᓗᓐᖏᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᒃᐱᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᖓ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᔮᕋᓱᒋᓐᓇᓐᖏᒻᒪᑕ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ, ᓇᓗᓇᕈᓐᓃᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᓇ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᒃᐱᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓᑕ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᓕᐊᖓ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ: ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᓐᓂᑦ (1971), ᐊᐅᐸᓗᒃᑐᓅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔪᕆᖅᓱᐃᔩᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ “ᐱᔭᕇᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ [ᐅᓇ] ᐳᑐᒍᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᕐᕕᖓ.” ᐱᓂᖅᓗᒃᑐᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓄᖃᖏᒃ ᑐᖁᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᑯᐊᓪᓚᒃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᓇᓗ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑐᕕᓂᖅ ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐃᖓ, ᐃᔨᕙᓪᓗᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ, ᑐᒃᓯᐊᕐᕕᖕᒦᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᖅ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᓇᐸᑦᓯᐅᑉ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕈᑎᖏᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᑐᑭᒧᐊᒍᑎᖃᓗᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᓇᓕᐊᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᖕᒪᖔᑦᑕ, ᓴᕿᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓗᑎᒡᓗ. ᐅᓇ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᑦᑎᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᑎᑎᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᐅᔪᒥᒃ (ᖁᖅᓱᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ) ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ (ᕿᕐᓂᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ) ᐊᒃᓱᕉᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᖁᒡᕕᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑦ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᖁᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓴᕿᑕᖏᑦ ᑭᓱᖑᐊᑦ ᓱᓕᔪᕆᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᓄᓇᕋᖑᐊᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑦ, ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᖕᒪᑕ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ: ᐃᒻᒪᑲᓪᓚᖕᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑐᐊᖅᑎ ᑐᓗᑎ ᕼᐋᓕ ᐄᐳ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᓛᖅᖢᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᖁᓕᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒥᐅᒃ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ‘ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᐴᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ’ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓵᒦᑦᑐᑦ. ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑕᖕᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᓪᓚᑖᕆᔭᑦᑎᓂ, ᓵᒥᑦᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐱᐅᓛᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑲᒥ ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. “ᐅᓇ ᐃᓅᓯᓪᓚᑖᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᒫᓐᓇ, ᐃᒧᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓄᑖᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑕᒪᔾᔭ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂ,” ᑎᑎᕋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᑦᑕᓂᑕᓕᕆᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᓈᓐᓯ ᑳᑉᐳ. ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᕿᑎᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᐅᔾᔨᕆᕙᓪᓕᐊᔭᓂ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑲᔾᔮᕐᓇᖅᑐᐃᓐᓇᓐᖏᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ: ᓯᑭᖖᒍᔭᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑮᑦ ᐊᑭᐊᕐᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑖᒃᑕ ᕕᐅ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᒦᑦᑐᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐄ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᐱᓕᕆᔪᒪᓂᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓗᒍ ᑖᕐᓂᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᒐᓂ. ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓂᖓᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᖃᕈᓐᓇᐃᓕᓯᒪᔭᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᓛᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒥᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᒥᑭᔫᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᑎᓂᑦ ᐊᕙᑎᒥᓂᑦ ᓂᓪᓕᐅᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ. ᐅᒃᐱᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐅᖅᑎ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓕᖁᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᐃᒡᓯᓇᐃᓂᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓱᓕᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᒍᑦ. “ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕈᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖓ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑕᓐᓂᒃ,” ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 2006 ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᖑᒐᒥ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᒋᔭᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᒫᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ. ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒪᔾᔪᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓᑕ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖏᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓄᑦ, “ ‘ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᒃᑲ ᓂᕆᔭᒃᓴᖃᕐᓂᐊᕐᒪᑕ.’ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᓕᔪᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓂᒃ, ᑕᐅᖅ, ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂᒃ.” ᐅᖃᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᑎᐳᓚ ᐅᓗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐅᓄᖅᑐᐃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᕿᓂᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᑰᓇ ᐅᓇ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᖑᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐸᒍᑎᓯᒪᓕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᖁᔭᐅᔭᕌᖓᒥᒃ. ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᖅ... ‘ᓴᓇᓪᓚᕆᒃᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ’ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ. ᐅᕙ, ᑕᑯᒥᓇᓗᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔭᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᑦ ‘ᓱᓕᔪᖅ’ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᒋᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ, ᐃᓚᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔮᖏᑦ ᐲᔭᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᒡᓗᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖕᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᓂ,’ ᐊᐃᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᓗᑦ.

was saved, she became alive,” reads the inscription. It’s a work unlike the better known interior and camping scenes, and yet this trajectory would run parallel to Pootoogook’s other works throughout her career. In Composition (Woman with Good and Evil) (2002–3) a woman is similarly torn between an evil serpent and an angel. In Composition (Good Replacing Bad) (2003–4) a man kneels in prayer on a floating leaf, as red lines emanate out from a Bible and reach towards him, seemingly driving out the blackened lines of negativity. These works are not simply spiritual—although Pootoogook produced a great many pieces that fall into that category—they are overtly religious. That religion factors heavily in Pootoogook’s work comes as little surprise. Looking through the works of Napachie and Pitseolak, it becomes evident that she was raised in a religious family. In her grandmother’s book Pitseolak: Pictures Out of My Life (1971), Anglican clergymen are frequently mentioned, and Pitseolak remembers “the completion of what in Cape Dorset is known as [the] Pootoogooks’ church.” Tragically, two of Pootoogook’s siblings were killed in a house fire that started while Napachie and her husband, Eegyvudluk Pootoogook, were at church. Religion also features heavily in Napachie’s own drawings. Looking through enough of these images, a whole iconography, seemingly without any direct precedence, begins to emerge. It is a universe of binaries. There are lines to indicate good (often yellow) or bad (often black) forces, teardrop-like shapes, and roses, which are either dying or thriving. Many of these symbols are either intuitive or quotidian. Plastic flowers, roses in particular, are popular in the North; even in historian Dorothy Harley Eber’s account of visiting Pitseolak decades ago for their interviews, she makes a note of “a bowl of plastic flowers” sitting in the room. In many ways, these works, with their interior language and total disconnect from lived reality, run counter to Pootoogook’s best-known works, which render scenes of life in the North, caught between Inuit tradition and the influence of southern forces. “The reality shown in Pootoogook’s interiors is that Inuit life, currently, is a meshing of the traditional lifestyle with new ways adopted from the South. Therein lies the fascination of these compositions,” writes curator and art historian Nancy Campbell. Pootoogook captures this process through her attention to the mundanity of things: clocks and key hooks on walls or Dr. Phil on the television, and of course through her willingness to tackle the darker sides of life unflinchingly. Her images of domestic abuse and the fallout of addiction are undoubtedly among Pootoogook’s most recognized works, despite constituting a small subset of her output. There is belief because of these depictions that Pootoogook was something of a documentarian. It’s a reading that was also promoted by the artist herself, who was insistent on the veracity of her drawings. “I cannot draw anything that I did not experience,” she explained in a 2006 documentary. It’s an impulse that was shared by Pitseolak and Napachie, and one of which Pootoogook was aware. She remembered Pitseolak’s motivations, recounting what her grandmother told her, “‘I’m drawing because my grandchildren have to eat.’ But she drew a true story, too, about her life.” Critic Deborah Root and others have written extensively about the troubling search for authenticity within Inuit art, and the ways in which Pootoogook’s work both upends and plays into these impulses. “Within a contemporary art paradigm . . . ‘authenticity’ means something rather different. Here, disturbing images tend to be seen as more ‘real’ than beautiful ones, in part because the artist’s job is to strip away the dishonesty and pretension of modern society,” argues Root. Perhaps this accounts for the foregrounding of Pootoogook’s interiors and camp scenes over her more spiritual and religious works. The latter, I would argue, are the more difficult works. As Dr. Heather Igloliorte has argued, “Her images de-exoticized the Arctic. Yet, at the same time, they highlighted how truly great the distance is between the lives of southern Canadians and their neighbours in Inuit Nunangat, and how little the South truly knows about the experience of life in the North.” But how does a southern audience even begin to place itself in relation to Pootoogook’s spiritual

Paper

Revisiting Annie Pootoogook

ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᐅᓇ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓕᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᖅᓯᒪᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑕᕐᓂᖓᓂᖔᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᓕᕆᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᑦ. ᐅᓇ ᐃᓱᐊᓄᑦ, ᐊᐃᕙᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖓ, ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑑᑕᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᕼᐃᑐ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᐅᖅᑎ ᐊᐃᕙᓯᒪᔪᖅ, “ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ. ᓱᓕᓕ, ᓴᕿᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᕋᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᖓᓯᒌᓐᓇᕆᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᑦ ᑲᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓂᓕᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓗᓴᐃᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᒥᑭᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᒥᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖃᖅᑐᒥᒃ.” ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᓄᖅ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐋᕿᒍᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᖃᓄᕆᑑᓂᖓᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᕐ ᑕᕐᓂᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ? ᐱᑕᖃᓗᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓂᖃᕐᕕᒃᓴᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᒡᕗᖓ, ᐅᓪᓗᖅᓯᐅᑎᑕᖃᕋᓂ ᐊᑭᐊᖓᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᖃᖓᐅᓐᓂᕐᒪᖔᑦ, ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᖅᑐᖃᕋᓂ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᕈᑎᒋᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᔪᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᕙᑖᓂ ᐃᓄᓯᖓ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖅᑕᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᑕᕐᓂᖑᐊᑦ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐃᓗᒥᒍᑦ ᕿᐊᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᑕᔪᑦ ᐋᓐᓂᕆᔭᒥᒍᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᔨᒥ ᒫᓂᖕ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐋᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᖕᓂᐊᔪᓂᒃ ᐆᒻᒪᑎᖓᓂᖔᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᒋᓇᒋᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᕆᐊᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᐸᐃᐹᒧᑦ.” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᑐᑭᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖓᓄᑦ ᕿᐊᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᑕᓂᖏ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂ ᑕᑯᒐᒥ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᓄᒫᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᒐᓂ ᐊᓂᒥᓄᒃ) (2006). ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓯᑳᑦᓚᓐ, ᑕᐃᑲᓃᓪᖢᓂ ᒪᕐᕉᖕᓄᑦ ᑕᕿᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᖓᓄ ᒋᓕᓐᕕᑎᔅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ. “ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᐃᓇᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᓂ ᐱᖁᑎᓂᒡᓗ,” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ. “ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ‘ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖓ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᐃᒪᓐᖏᓇᒪ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᓂᒐ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᒍᔭᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᐸᓖᓯᒃᑯᓂᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᐊᓄᓪᓚᒃᓰᕕᖕᒧᐊᖅᑕᐅᓂᐊᓕᖅᑐᖅ.’ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᒋᒃᑲᓐᓂᕋᒥᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᓴᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᓄᓪᓚᓰᕕᖕᒧᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᑎᒍᔭᐅᓐᖕᒋᓐᓂᖅᖢᓂ, ᐱᔭᕇᖅᖢᓂᐅᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᓂ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᓕᖅᖢᓂ.” ᐃᒪᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓯᒪᒦᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐱᖕᖑᐊᕐᕕᒃ ᓇᑎᖓᓂ ᖁᑎᖕᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᐊᕙᓗᖃᖅᖢᓂ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑖᓐᓇ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂ ᑕᕐᓂᓕᕆᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᕙᓗᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᑎᑎᖁᑖᒃᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᕿᑎᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᒡᓯᕙᔪᖅ ᕿᑎᐊᓂ ᒪᒃᐱᒐᕐᒥ, ᐃᓚᖃᐅᖅᖢᒍ ᑕᒡᔭᖔᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖕᒪᓗᒐᓛᓕᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᑎᐊᐸᓗᒋᖕᒥᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ - ᑕᐃᓐᓇᓗ, ᓴᖕᖏᔫᔪᖅ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᒧᑦ ᕿᔪᓕᖕᒧᑦ ᐱᔭᕇᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ. ᑖᓐᓇᓗ ᐱᒋᐊᕈᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᒍ ᖃᐅᔨᓇᓱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᓇᑭᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᓂᕕᓂᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑦᑕᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᓕᑦᓯ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᒃᑯᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᕐᓗᑑᖅ ᐊᐃᐱᓕ (1951–2007), ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᑦ-ᐊᒻᒪᓗᖃᑯᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᕐᒧᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᑉ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. “ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ

scenes? There is no clearly demarked space to step into, no calendar on the wall indicating the date, no recognizable television program that suggests continuity between life in the South and life in the North. Instead, there is unmoored emotion and religious leanings that, in a contemporary art world more accustomed to scathing critiques of the church, register as undeniably unfashionable. There is some continuity between these bodies of work. The spiritual scenes still depict a kind of event, but it’s an interior emotional one, rather than an exterior one. As Jimmy Manning has described it, “Sometimes she will draw hurting feelings from her heart which she’s not afraid to say on paper.” Feheley began to understand how immediate the emotional process of these works was when she saw the artist create Composition (Sadness and Relief for My Brother) (2006). It was a work that Pootoogook began in Scotland, where she spent two months working as part of the Glenfiddich Artist in Residence program. “She had started a drawing and there were all of these black lines and things,” Feheley recalls. “And she said, ‘I’m drawing this because I’m upset about my brother, because he was arrested, and I think this time they’re going to put him in jail.’ But the next day, she talked to her family again and he hadn’t been jailed, he had been let go, and she completed the drawing in happy mode.” Whereas Pootoogook’s interior and exterior scenes function like a stage—with a rectangular, demarcated region where the action takes place—the spiritual works and the transformation pieces are encircled with sinuous lines. The central figures sit in the middle of the page, with elements reaching in and looping out. There are some formal similarities with her other scenes—namely, her strong, clear lines, which she marked in pencil before rendering in ink. But the approach is so different it leaves me searching for another point of reference, a different influence. For these works, Ritchie points to the work of illustrator Alootook Ipellie (1951– 2007), whose black-and-white drawings, published with Inuktut commentary and heavily circulated in the North, were a watershed moment. “His work looks like a lot of other people’s work now, [but] it was the first influence of that kind of linear drawing, that kind of portraiture,” he explains. “It was really popular amongst Inuit, and I think Annie and Tim [Pitsiulak (1967–2016)] and Itee and all those guys have a little bit of him in them.” The connection is far from direct, but there are moments where Ipellie’s influence on Pootoogook might be apparent, like Composition (Evil Spirit) (2004), where an umbilical cord-like line connects the figure’s mouth to the genitals of the spirit, encircling them both. Trying to find some obvious direct reference point, though, is something of a fool’s errand. Napachie and Pitseolak’s books, because of their inclusion of Inuktut and broad circulation are more the exception than the rule in terms of impact. The average drawing has less of a wide reception in the co-op than one might expect. It’s a reality that contradicts arguments that Pootoogook’s work had a directly traceable influence on other artists working in Kinngait. “Annie would work at home on a drawing for a weekend or overnight, because we buy drawings on Tuesdays and Thursdays. When Annie would walk in the door, I would take that drawing, lay it out

Annie and Pitseolak 2003 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm — ᐊᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓚᖅ 2003 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

No artistic legacy is set in stone, and our understanding of her work and its impact will inevitably shift and change over time. —

Glasses, Pen, Pencil, and Eraser 2006 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm

ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑎᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᔾᔪᓯᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᒫᓐᓇ, [ᑭᓯᐊᓂ] ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᑦᑎᕕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓄᒃᖑᐊᒍᑕᐅᔪᑦ, “ᑕᐃᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. “ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᒋᐅᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᐊᓗᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᐊᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᒻ (ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓚᖅ (1967–2016)] ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᑏ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᖔᒐᓚᖅᑐᐃᓇᐅᔪᑦ.” ᑲᑎᖓᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑲᓴᑦᑎᐊᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᐃᒪᐅᕗᑦ ᐊᐃᐱᓕᐅᑉ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐊᓕᐊᓇᖅᑐᑦ) (2004), ᑕᐃᑲᓂᓗ ᒥᒃᖠᐊᖑᐊᖅ ᐊᑕᔪᖅ ᖃᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐊᓕᐊᓇᖅᑐᓂᑦ, ᐊᕙᓗᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ. ᓇᓂᓯᓇᓱᒡᖢᓂ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐱᓯᒪᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ, ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᐊᕿᑐᖓᓴᖕᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖏᑦ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᔾᔨᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᒧᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᒪᓕᓗᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᒐᔭᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᐅᓗᐊᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑯᐊᐸᒃᑯᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒥᓇᓐᖏᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᓱᓕᕗᖅᓕ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓪᓚᐅᒃᑐᖅ ᐅᓇ ᐅᖃᖅᑕᖓᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑕᖓ ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐳᑑᒍᑉ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒡᕙᖔᕐᓂᖓᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑭᓐᖓᓂ. “ᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖕᖏᕋᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕈᓯᑦ ᐃᓱᐊᓂ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐅᓐᓄᐊᖏᓐᓇᖅ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᐃᐹᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᑎᖂᑎᒃᑯᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐋᓂ ᐃᓯᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᐅᕙᖓ ᑎᒍᕙᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ, ᓵᒧᑦ ᒪᑐᐃᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᒥᕈᐊᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᔭᕌᖓᑕ, ᑐᓂᕙᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᔫᒥ [ᑕᒃᐸᐅᖓᐃ], ᐅᓇᓗ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᓯᔨᖓᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑭᒃᓴᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᐅᕆᓕᖅᐸᒃᑐᒍᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᒪᓕᒡᖢᒍ,” ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ. “ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐱᖓᓱᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᒃᓴᕆᔭᖏᑦ. ᐃᓕᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒧᔫᕐᒧᑦ, ᐴᖅᑕᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᒧᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᑎᑕᐅᕗᖅ. ᐅᑎᖅᐸᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ. ᑕᒪᕐᒥᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᑯᑦ ᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓄᑦ.” ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᖅ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓯᒪᓂᖓᑦ, ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐊᐃᕙᐅᑎᒋᕚ ᐅᓇ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖁᓚᖕᐅᖅᑕᖓ. “ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᖃᓄᐃᖂᔨᔪᓐᓃᖅᖢᓂ ᐋᕿᒃᖢᓂ,” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, “ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᐃᑦ ᑖᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ.” ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ. ᐅᕙᒍᑦ, ᑕᑯᓪᓗᑕ, ᐅᓂᒃᑳᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᒥᒃ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐳᐃᒍᓇᖅᑐᖅᑕᖃᓐᖏᑎᒋᔪᖅ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᔭᖃᒧᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᔭᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᓛᕐᒥᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᑦᔨᕈᒫᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᖓᐅᓕᖅᐸᑦ. ᑕᒪᑐᒪᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᒥ, ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐱᕕᖃᕐᑎᑕᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᓄᑖᒥᒃ ᖃᐅᒪᓂᕐᒥᒃ: ᐊᓯᖏᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ, ᑲᒪᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᑭᑎ ᓯᑳᑦ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ 2018 ᓕᕗᐴ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᒃ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ. ᓂᕆᐅᒃᑐᒍᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᑐᑭᓯᔪᑎᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᔫᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᒋᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒍ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᓚᐅᖅᑕᑯᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᐊᓈᓇᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᓂ, ᐃᒃᐱᖕᒋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᖓᓂᑦ ᐄᐳ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᕐᒥᓂ: “ᐋᒍᓯ 1971-ᒥ, ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᕐᕋᒎᔪᖅ ᐃᑳᖅᓱᒪᓕᖅᑎᑦᓗᒍ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐋᕿᐅᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ: ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ ᐅᕙᖓ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᑦ. ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᓪᓲᐅᓛᖅ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖓᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖅ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᓂ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᒪᒃᐱᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ, ᐊᐱᕆᒐᒃᑯ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖕᒪᖔᑦ, ᐃᑲᔪᖅᖢᓂ ᑐᓵᔨᒋᔭᕋ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ‘ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᖑᓲᑎᒋᓂᐊᓐᖏᑕᕋ.” ᑕᑯᖕᖑᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᖏᑦ, ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᔪᖓ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᖕᖑᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᓗᒍ ᐃᒡᕕᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ. ᐃᒻᒪᖄ, ᐃᓂᖃᓕᑕᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᓈᓚᒍᓐᓇᖅᓯᓪᓗᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑭᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑕᑯᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᖁᔭᒥᓂᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓄᑦ.

ᐃᔭᐅᑏᒃ, ᐃᒪᓕᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ, ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐲᔭᐅᑎ 2006 ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

on the tabletop and look at it. And if it was really good, I would bring over to Joemie [Takpaungai], who is the Assistant Studio Manager, and we would decide what the price of the drawing would be,” explains Ritchie. “Two or three people in the studio might have seen it. It goes into a drawer, into a tube and it ships out. It never comes back. None of this art comes back to the community.” More than subject matter or style, Feheley argues that Pootoogook’s influence can be felt in the freedom that she promoted. “It was as if freedom was suddenly okay,” Feheley says of the shift, “and you could see it happen.” Pootoogook’s work told stories. We, in turn, tell stories about Pootoogook’s work. No artistic legacy is set in stone, and our understanding of her work and its impact will inevitably shift and change over time. This year alone, there will certainly be plenty of opportunities to see it in a new light: among other showings, curator Kitty Scott has included it in the Liverpool Biennial 2018. Hopefully, these returns will begin to account for the breadth of experience that is detailed across Pootoogook’s work. Looking through the memoirs of the artist’s mother and grandmother, I was struck by a particular passage from Eber in the latter’s book: “In August 1971, about a year after we finished the interview sessions that led to Pitseolak: Pictures Out of My Life, I was able to show Pitseolak the first copy of our book. As her grandchildren looked on, she turned every page, and then, when I asked what she thought, with the help of our interpreter she said, ‘I am not ashamed of it.’” I imagine Pootoogook among that group of grandchildren, looking on at a life laid out in images and words, understanding that there is no shame in telling your story. Perhaps, we are finally in a position to listen to the full range of stories Pootoogook saw fit to share with us.

Paper

Revisiting Annie Pootoogook

Picturing Our Identity — by Adina Tarralik Duffy “Lots of times I look in the mirror and I draw myself.” — Jutai Toonoo The mesmerizing, easy cool of Jutai Toonoo (1959–2015) stares back at you. The edges of his skull fade into a sea of red and spill over a blushing face, the dividing line between internal and external realities has temporarily dissipated. It is equal parts engaging and alarming. His dark, questioning and perhaps world-weary gaze commands your attention. His thoughts are free from the usual conformity and strict confines of what is expected, an intellect without a linear cage. Toonoo follows no rules. He is his own man, free to express what he wants. His bold, confident presence is palpable even on paper, maybe especially so, and you can’t help but feel the pull of his power.

Jutai Toonoo (1959–2015 Kinngait) —

The first time I saw Toonoo’s work, I could not look away. It completely obliterated my sense of what I thought I understood about Inuit art. Why had I thought, even as an Inuk woman, that Inuit art had to be a certain thing? Look a certain way? Why had I never before considered the concept of simple freedom of expression? Had I ever seen a self-portrait of an Inuit artist before? I couldn’t recall. Definitely not in this way. Not in this form—his black t-shirt casually modern, his slouching posture coolly rebelling against all the stereotypical notions of how an Inuk should look in a gallery space. “I like faces,” the artist recounted in 2011. “Every face is different from the other, like snowflakes. I never run out. I am always inspired by a face. There’s so many faces out there, there is no limit to what I can do.”1 He explained that he often draws his own face or the face of his wife, because he felt he was not yet good enough and that he was uncertain that other subjects would like or agree with the outcome. For fear of upsetting the subject, or out of a pure necessity to be completely free to channel his raw emotions onto the page, Toonoo was often compelled to draw his own face—a face that now gazes back at observers in galleries and private collections around the world. Like many artists, Toonoo spoke about feeling both free and imprisoned by his process and his career as an artist. He described delving deeply into his mind while working, blocking everything else in order to express what he was feeling. “It almost becomes a part of me, what I am putting on paper,” he has said. “It comes out of me and it gets transferred onto the paper, and sometimes it drains me and I have no energy left when I am done with a thing.” Pieces such as Self (2012) and Seeking Peace (2015) evidence a process through which Toonoo poured his entire being into the work, leaving

PREVIOUS SPREAD

Self 2012 Oil stick 105.4 × 75.6 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Jobie Ohaituk (b. 1946 Inukjuak) — Self-Portrait 1975 Stonecut 28.3 × 36.2 cm

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007 Iqaluit) — I, Crucified c. 1992 Ink 26.8 × 21 cm

I have come to think of the first time I saw Jutai Toonoo’s work as the moment I vividly let loose my vision of what Inuit art could be. And it can be anything of course. —

In the decades that followed artists continued to push back on the hungry aesthetic demands of a market fixated on an idealized, romantic notion of the North and its people to increasingly better results. These market desires have had an effect on how even we as Inuit think about Inuit art. I have come to think of the first time I saw Toonoo’s work as the moment I vividly let loose my vision of what Inuit art could be. And it can be anything of course. Toonoo put it simply: “It’s not just for the sake of being different . . . I think that’s why I don’t do the things older artists do, ’cause of our lifestyle today. It’s very different from what they went through.”4 These changes in lifestyle and artistic output are a testament to how quickly our lives have changed in the past 60 years. This dichotomy of worlds, the radical shifts experienced by generations of Inuit, described by Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007) as a “cultural whiteout,” is what makes self-portraiture so important, so invaluable. And much like the Arctic storms we endure through the winter, some of these changes have been so powerful that “we are trapped and unable to move forward because we cannot see clearly where we are heading.”5 Our perspective from within the storm is the power we hold. Without Inuit artists expressing themselves and documenting their experiences, we risk looking at ourselves through a tourists lens or reading our stories from the murky, presumptive ink of a settler’s pen, and even the most earnest outsider cannot get it right. Born in Nuvuqquq, a small hunting camp on Qikiqtaaluk (Baffin Island), Ipellie witnessed first hand “the death of nomadic life.”6 A provocative, political thinker, he was one of the first Inuit artists to begin rapping, both gently and violently, against the glass ceiling of what was both expected and accepted of Inuit artists. Soft spoken and described by some as one of the most unsung Inuit artists of modern times, Ipellie expresses in stark graphic, black-and-white imagery the difficult, disturbing and traumatic transition from a traditional life on the land to life in government-imposed settlements. His book Arctic Dreams and Nightmares (1993) is also the first published collection of short stories by an Inuit writer. A fierce and incisive critic, Ipellie wrote in 2001, “Our society had to rely on another society to be a guide dog to our blind culture.”7 Blinded by the swift commodification and forced

all of himself transferred onto the page, so much so that initially he literally hated the finished product, not because he didn’t like it, but because it took all his energy to create it. When asked if he considered himself an Inuit artist or a Canadian artist and how he defines himself, Toonoo answered simply, “I don’t.”2 Leaning heavy over his drafting table, filling in the soft blue backdrop of what would later become Eskimo Tan (2010), wiping sweat from his brow, he continued, “This is just something I do. I think I am an artist, but then again I am not.” Laughter follows in quick bursts, like joyful segues into meditative, humble confessions. “I used to do it for the sake of art, but it became something else. It became something that I have to make a living with—feed my kids and please my wife.” Toonoo, a self-aware, sensitive observer of the world around him was not unaware of the weightiness, economic and otherwise, of his work. The subject of self-portraiture is, potentially, a delicate subject when talking about Inuit art. A field, after all, that has for the past six decades been dominated and shaped by capital. For a very long time, it has been a source of income, an economy, a means to an end for many artists living and working in the Canadian North. This is not to say that Inuit artists, of past and present, don’t express themselves in true, autobiographical ways, but it complicates them. In 1975, three artists from Inukjuak, Nunavik, QC, created, what are likely, the first formal self-portraits of Inuit artists. The bold stonecuts by Thomassie Echaluk (1935–2011), Daniel Inukpuk and Jobie Ohaituk were released in small print runs in black and white. Though rendered in each artist’s own, unique style, each work depicts an artist facing forward in a collared shirt with the top button unbuttoned. The catalogue introduction considers that just because an Inuit artist “has never done a self portrait is no reason not to try.”3 The catalogue goes on to indicate that the artists were encouraged by a visiting instructor to make the self-portraits, so the idea to represent themselves was not necessarily their own but perhaps an opportunity to test the market and see if, in the mid-1970s, a southern audience was interested in purchasing unadorned Inuit self-portraits. The records of how well the works sold are unavailable, but the fact that this experiment was never repeated might speak to their performance.

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Uvanga/Self

Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002 Kinngait) — Napachie’s Attempted Abduction #1 1997–98 Coloured pencil and ink 50.7 × 66.3 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Although few of her works are explicitly labelled as self-portraits, arguably all of Ashoona’s work was autobiographical. Like many artists of her generation, Ashoona placed herself, her family and her community into each piece, from depicting her early years in semi-nomadic hunting camps in the publication Pitseolak: Pictures Out of My Life (1971) to her clever commentary on the modern art market with The Critic (c. 1963). This latter vein of self-portraiture in particular, of the artist as artist, made way for both her daughter and granddaughter to experiment with depicting and ultimately seeing themselves as artists. As both subject and recorder, self-portraiture gives artists complete control over what they want us, as viewers, to see, and this power in the hands of the right artist can reveal volumes of intimate information in a single frame. Author George Orwell wrote, “Autobiography is not to be trusted unless it reveals something disgraceful.”8 Napachie, not one to shy away from difficult subject matter, exposed the darker side of traditional life: spousal abuse, starvation, forced marriage, alcoholism and infanticide, ultimately setting the stage for the uncompromising work of her daughter. If Annie broke the ceiling, she was without a doubt standing on Napachie’s shoulders as she did it. And the cracks were long present. In her work Napachie’s Attempted Abduction #1 (1997–98), she records a terrifying moment of having to fight for her dignity and survival while two men with disturbingly serene faces attempt to violently steal her away from her future husband. She writes in syllabics that she won the fight because she was terribly frightened, her future husband “just watching.” Napachie’s image and accompanying narrative reveal the desperate vulnerability of womanhood within camp life, exposing complex feelings of disappointment, fear and a near hopeless dependency on the unpredictable and often abusive men with whom they were immutably connected. A third generation artist, profoundly inspired by her mother and grandmother, Annie Pootoogook skillfully reimagined their artistic legacies while documenting Inuit life as seen through her own eyes. “I only know today,” she famously noted. “I must draw what surrounds me.” 9 Though the backdrops of Annie’s work are contemporary to her

conversion to a society so vastly different from our ancient, sacred, self-sufficient ways there was almost no chance of survival. Presented before us was a seemingly fancy, trouble-free and prosperous life—we were inundated with a new language, a new religion, the introduction of a cash economy, houses, TVs, Hondas, Ski-Doos and guns. Ipellie’s ink drawing I, Crucified (c. 1992) confronts this violent, martyrdom of our selves and the crucifixion of our culture and leaves us to question, had we, as had Christ, willingly subjugated ourselves? And most pressingly, would there be a resurrection? More than 25 years on, Ipellie’s drawing continues to demand sustained, if uncomfortable, reflection on how far we have—or have not—come. Our warp speed, culture clash progression from a not-sodistant, “ancient” nomadic life, illuminated by the warmth of the qulliq (oil lamp), to matchbox houses backlit by the blue-screen glow of Jerry Springer has been most famously documented by the incomparable and prolific work of three Inuit women artists spanning three generations: the great matriarch of Inuit art, Pitseolak Ashoona, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983); her only daughter, the remarkable Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002); and of course Pootoogook’s own daughter, the enigmatic and dearly beloved Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016), all of whom captured the specific visual language of their lives and generations.

— As both subject and recorder, self-portraiture gives artists complete control over what they want us, as viewers, to see. Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

generation, her experiences are often strikingly parallel in both tranquility and tragedy to those of her mother and grandmother. Jamasee Pitseolak is another revolutionary example of someone who, feeling an innate sense of dissatisfaction with his work, moved away from conventional themes to do something different. “As great as traditional Inuit art is, and I am humbled to come from that background, as I grew older,” he has explained, “I was getting a sense of emptiness from my work and I wasn’t making any connection. There was a sense of dissatisfaction, so I started carving electric guitars. . . . The fulfillment started coming to me and it spoke to me that this is what I want to do.”10 In more recent years, this personal and artistic confidence has led Pitseolak to explore self-representation in his work and, in the process, to bravely reveal something to us that is deeply traumatic. In a work from 2010, The Student, we are confronted with a distressing scene.11 A young child sits in a bathtub, his terror and powerlessness conveyed through harsh, erratic diagonal lines. A vomitous green is smeared across the abuser’s eyes, chest and genitals as he approaches the young victim. The grotesque slashes of green make their mark across the page and end in succession over the helpless, vulnerable child. It’s as though Pitseolak is trying to eradicate this horrific memory, confessing the details swiftly. The pain is still so discernible, the execution so hurried and the trauma still so raw, it’s as though it must be drawn as quickly as possible to get it over with. Pitseolak has said many times that he creates his artworks for himself; he’s “not doing it for anyone else.”12 Therein lies the power of self-expression and the power of self-portraiture on a larger scale. When artists are truly free, though it may at times come at a significant cost, the outcome can dramatically shift how we see both them, ourselves and the world around us. When artists exorcise their demons or tell us their most intimate stories, when dissatisfaction leads the way or a relentless thought won’t let them rest until it’s been transferred onto the page, when they channel their raw emotions to manifest something from their inner world into the tangible, moving it from the unseen to the visible, they are sharing with us a glimpse into their relationship with a shape-shifting muse. When artists do this, not just for themselves but of themselves, without regard for the market or for what an audience might deem too dark or too heavy or too unlike what they’ve come to know, when an artist is free, you cannot help but feel the pull of their power.

NOTES

“Jutai Toonoo interview at Marion Scott Gallery, 2011,” YouTube video, 6:41, posted by Paul Conroy, July 7 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqpKL38VUFM. 2 “The Rebel — Jutai Toonoo,” YouTube video, 26:04, from Eye on the Arctic interview with Eilís Quinn, posted by Radio Canada International, May 24, 2017, www. youtube.com/watch?v=XlvwvD3BJ00. 3 Marybelle Myers, “Another Reality” in Arctic Quebec 1975 (Montreal: La Fédération des coopératives du Nouveau-Québec, 1975), unpaginated. 4 “The Rebel — Jutai Toonoo,” YouTube video, 26:04, from Eye on the Arctic interview with Eilís Quinn, posted by Radio Canada International, May 24, 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlvwvD3BJ00. 5 Alootook Ipellie, “People of the Good Land,” in The Voices of the Natives: The Canadian North and Alaska, ed. Hans Bohm (Newcastle, ON: Penumbra Press, 2001), 26. 6 This is a reference to the title of Alootook Ipellie’s work The Death of Nomadic Life, the Creeping Emergence of Civilization (2003). 7 Ipellie, “People of the Good Land,” 26. 8 George Orwell, “Some Notes on Salvador Dalí,” in George Orwell: As I Please, 1943–1946, eds. Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus (Boston: D.R. Godine, 2000), 156. 9 Annie Pootoogook, directed by Marcia Connolly (Toronto: Site-Media, 2007), video. 10 “National Gallery of Canada Artist Interview: Jamasee Padluq Pitseolak,” YouTube video, 3:40, from interview with National Gallery for Sakàhan: International Indigenous Art, posted by National Gallery of Canada, June 25, 2013, www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwl4jyzb0Yc. 11 Scott Watson, Keith Wallace and Jana Tyler, eds., Witnesses: Art and Canada’s Indian Residential Schools (Vancouver: Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery, 2013), 48. 12 “National Gallery of Canada Artist Interview: Jamasee Padluq Pitseolak,” YouTube video, 3:40, from interview with National Gallery for Sakàhan: International Indigenous Art, posted by National Gallery of Canada, June 25, 2013, www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwl4jyzb0Yc. 1

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Pitseolak Ashoona (c. 1904–1983 Kinngait) — TOP

In Summer There Were Always Very Big Mosquitoes 1970 Felt-tip pen 68.6 × 53.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO

Jamasee Pitseolak (b. 1968 Kinngait) — BOTTOM

The Student 2010 Hand-painted, dry-point etching 80.1 × 111.8 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

Uvanga/Self

PORTFOLIO

Cutting Edge: Paper Today

Kudluajuk Ashoona b. 1958 Kinngait, NU —

The drawings of Kudluajuk Ashoona are likely to leave viewers with questions: Why are these children wearing face paint? Why is this stove outside? Who are these men with long hair? Ashoona keeps the content of her drawings to herself, leaving them untitled and without inscription. As a result, her audience is invited to fill in the narrative. Like many graphic artists working in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, Ashoona has embraced photography as a tool for her drawings. Though they are contemporary in their execution, Ashoona’s drawings are incredibly nostalgic, capturing the fashions, hairstyles and interior decor of the recent past. One can imagine her flipping through an album full of photos of her community and family (including ones of her daughters Nicotye and Padloo Samayualie, who have also enjoyed recent successes for their graphic work), wondering which memory she’d like to draw next.

Kudluajuk Ashoona (b. 1958 Kinngait) — Untitled 2016 Coloured pencil, graphite and ink 58.4 × 76.1 cm © DORSET FINE ARTS

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Phillipa Iksiraq (b. 1944 Qamani’tuaq) — Brain 1998 Stencil 57 × 39 cm COURTESY MALASPINA PRINTMAKERS

Phillipa Iksiraq b. 1944 Qamani’tuaq, NU —

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Based in Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, Phillipa Iksiraq, along with her husband Thomas Iksiraq, are longtime members of the Sanavik Co-operative Association and have contributed regularly to their print collections over the past four decades. Working primarily in stencil and silkscreen printing, common among Iksiraq’s works are depictions of animals and traditional life on the land that appear to float against stark white backgrounds, as well as transformation scenes of muskoxen, geese and more. In certain instances, her transforming subjects bridge the landscape and become part of it. Iksiraq’s interest in the spiritual also materializes in Brain (1998), an animated stencil of weaving serpentine forms tangled by an unseen force. Seeing drawing as an opportunity to capture personal and collective histories, Iksiraq’s work combines both the mythical and profane in order to contemplate the cultural changes impacting northern communities.

Cutting Edge

Jessie Kenalogak b. 1951 Qamani’tuaq, NU —

In her dense, brightly coloured drawings, Jessie Kenalogak has created a world of her own. Although her compositions occasionally resemble those of fellow Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, artist Simon Tookoome, whether she is working in drawing, printmaking, ceramic or textile, Kenalogak’s work is distinctly her own. The artist’s meandering lines and highly patterned mark making, variously reveal and obfuscate traditional Inuit legends, transformation scenes and depictions of contemporary life and culture. Often executed on black paper, Kenalogak begins her compositions with bold, graphic outlines of figures in white coloured pencil. These forms are filled in with teardrops, curlicues, stripes and zig-zags in vibrant hues that contrast brilliantly against the rich blackness of their support. Kenalogak’s work requires close, sustained viewing, as new forms, stories and lessons emerge with each new look.

Jessie Kenalogak (b. 1951 Qamani’tuaq) — Greatest Years of My Life 2007 Coloured pencil 60.9 × 91.4 cm

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Piona Keyuakjuk b. 1964 Panniqtuuq, NU —

Since his debut in the 2010 Pangnirtung Print Collection, Piona Keyuakjuk has contributed a dozen prints that are at times spiritual and at others humourous and occasionally quite dark. He is a skilled printmaker, excelling in linocut—a medium well suited for his bold, graphic transformation and hunting scenes. In two etchings from 2010, Self Defence and Witness, Keyuakjuk relays scenes of violence, an unusual subject for Inuit prints. Whether a commentary on the prevalence of violence in the media or representations of violence in northern communities, Keyuakjuk has used his platform as an artist to bring attention to an incredibly difficult, but important issue. With the reestablishment of printmaking in Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung), NU, in 2018, Keyuakjuk will have the opportunity to continue to create works that unflinchingly present important issues facing Inuit today.

Piona Keyuakjuk (b. 1964 Panniqtuuq) — Self Defence 2010 Etching and aquatint 48 × 38 cm

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Cutting Edge

Roberta Memogana b. 1971 Ulukhaktok / Inuvik, NT —

Hailing from a family of artists who share both a metaphoric and genetic hand, Roberta Memogana’s Hand of Talent (2017) is populated with material objects representing skills inherited from her father, Jimmy Memorana (1919–2009). A ceremonial drum fills the space of the palm with a bow and ulu (woman’s knife) in its orbit. An arrow, spear, spoon and knife rest in each finger, emphasizing the importance of her Inuvialuit identity as well as the objects that aid in constructing it. In addition to stencil prints, Memogana has also used her skill to illustrate four children’s books in conjunction with the Inuvialuit Cultural Resource Centre, including Santa Goes to Ulukhaqtok (2015) and How to Cut Fish Strips (2016), that celebrate, relay and preserve her Western Arctic heritage.

Roberta Memogana (b. 1971 Ulukhaktok / Inuvik) — Hand of Talent 2017 Stencil 27.9 × 21.6 cm

COURTESY GREAT NORTHERN ARTS FESTIVAL

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Maggie Napartuk (b.1981 Inukjuak) — ᑲᒥᓂᖅ ᓴᑐᔅᒃ (Softening Kamiik) 2016 Linocut 35 × 25.5 cm COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE

Maggie Napartuk b. 1981 Inukjuak, QC —

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A giant snowflake comprised of swimming seals and uluit (women’s knives) caught on the tale of a diving whale; an inky floor circling a female figure in traditional dress softening kamiik (boots); an igloo crowned in harpoons as an enlarged seal skin encroaches: these are among the many scenes appearing in the linocuts of Inukjuak-based Maggie Napartuk, who has participated in workshops throughout Nunavik and Quebec to both learn and share her skills in linocut printmaking. Her bold monochromatic prints reflect the endurance of Inuit traditions while celebrating the relationships between landscapes and their inhabitants. Frequently challenging the expected visual hierarchy of elements in her works, Napartuk’s use of scale emphasizes the many interrelations of the natural world—from the vastness of oceans to the intimacy of a quotidian moment.

Cutting Edge

Mary Paningajak b. 1961 Ivujivik, QC —

Mary Paningajak is a woman of many talents. A gifted carver, jeweller, graphic artist and printmaker, Paningajak is also currently the mayor of her hometown of Ivujivik, Nunavik, QC. Her father, Tivi Paningajak (1917–1991), was for a time the only artist producing prints in his community, a dedication to this influential medium that is echoed by his daughter. Though there has not been a formal print release from Nunavik in nearly three decades, Paningajak works independently, making incredibly graphic and whimsical prints that showcase local flora and traditional culture. Her works are also quite personal, often recording events from her life and community. Untitled (2013), a painting with a fiery orange background, is inscribed with a story of the artist’s father, ill in bed, being comforted by Paningajak and her younger brother. In this work Paningajak has taken a key event from her life and translated it into a deeply powerful and memorable experience for those who view it.

Mary Paningajak (b. 1961 Ivujivik) — Untitled 2013 Acrylic paint and ink 57.5 × 76.5 cm COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Nujalia Quvianaqtuliaq b. 1972 Kinngait, NU —

Nujalia Quvianaqtuliaq’s artistic career began at the behest of his brother Niveaksie, a printmaker at Kinngait Studios, where he apprenticed before becoming a printmaker in his own right. Currently based in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, and working primarily with coloured pencil on paper, Quvianaqtuliaq’s vast layered landscapes of vibrating hues and abstract shapes take the form of rocky outcrops, plains and seas. In a few instances, polar bears and owls, and even peaked structures that mirror the mountains beyond, populate his otherwise desolate landscapes. Flat bands of orange, green and blue capture the elemental qualities of land, water and sky to create compositions that are still, drawn from memory, yet pulsating with Quvianaqtuliaq’s imagination.

Nujalia Quvianaqtuliaq (b. 1972 Kinngait) — Untitled 2011 Coloured pencil 56 × 76 cm © DORSET FINE ARTS

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Cutting Edge

Jason Sikoak b. 1973 Rigolet, NL —

Often tackling themes both political and spiritual, Rigolet-born, Montreal-based Jason Sikoak’s pen-andink drawings depict the tensions surrounding ancestral traditions and relationships to land in the face of colonial or religious forces. Taking early inspiration from the tales gracing the pages of Them Days—a publication dedicated to the stories of Labrador—and the images featured in a special illustrated edition, Sikoak combines familial oral histories with written records to visually preserve and honour these pasts. Scenes of Inuit life—from a hunter hoisting a harpoon above an ice hole in anticipation of an approaching seal and ceremonial drum dances to the shamanic and Christian conflicts in Sacrilege (2015)—are carefully inked across the pages of his dynamic images.

Jason Sikoak (b. 1973 Rigolet) — Sacrilege 2015 Ink 124.5 × 165.1 cm COURTESY THE ROOMS PHOTO NED PRATT PHOTOGRAPHY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

OPENING SPREAD

1 Nujalia Quvianaqtuliaq (b. 1972 Kinngait) — Lots of Island 2012 Coloured pencil 38.1 × 55.9 cm

COURTESY CRAFT ONTARIO

2 Mary Paningajak (b. 1961 Ivujivik) — Untitled 2016 Linocut 28.5 × 23 cm

COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE

3 Piona Keyuakjuk (b. 1964 Panniqtuuq) — Successful Hunt 2018 Linocut 42 × 58 cm

4 Jason Sikoak (b. 1973 Rigolet) — Hunter 2017 Pen and ink 106.7 × 55.9 cm

7 Kudluajuk Ashoona (b. 1958 Kinngait) — Untitled 2017 Coloured pencil, graphite and ink 58.7 × 76.2 cm

COURTESY THE ARTIST

5 Phillipa Iksiraq (b. 1944 Qamani’tuaq) — Anything That’s Wild c. 2008 Mixed media 51 × 35 cm

8 Maggie Napartuk (b. 1981 Inukjuak) — ᑐᖕᖕᒐᓱᒋᑦ (Home) 2016 Linocut 28 × 33 cm

COURTESY MALASPINA PRINTMAKERS

6 Jessie Kenalogak (b. 1951 Qamani’tuaq) — Glow in Dark Road 2007 Coloured pencil 30.5 × 35.6 cm

COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE

9 Roberta Memogana (b. 1971 Ulukhaktok/Inuvik) — Looks 2000 Stencil 45.7 × 66 cm

COURTESY ARCTIC CO-OPERATIVES LIMITED

COURTESY UQQURMIUT CENTRE FOR ARTS & CRAFTS

To learn more about the artists in this Portfolio and in the rest of the issue visit Inuit Art Quarterly Profiles at: inuitartfoundation.org/profiles

Inuit Art Quarterly Profiles — In September 2017, the Inuit Art Foundation launched this publicly accessible platform (formerly the Inuit Artist Database) as a centralized resource for collectors, gallerists, curators, artists and others to learn more about the diversity and talent of both historic and contemporary Inuit artists working with a variety of media. Today, IAQ Profiles has become the definitive resource on artists working across Inuit Nunangat and beyond. Share your passion, knowledge and expertise by signing up to be an IAQ Profiles contributor.

Paper Trail: An Interview with Eric Anoee Jr. on the Early Drawings of Eric Anoee Sr.

Eric Anoee Sr. (1924–1989 Arviat) — PREVIOUS SPREAD

Untitled (Caribou Hunters) Late 1930s Graphite 20 × 32 cm COURTESY MANITOBA MUSEUM

BELOW

Portrait of Eric Anoee Sr. from the late 1930s COURTESY GENERAL SYNOD ARCHIVES

In the following interview, conducted by Inuit Art Quarterly Senior Editor John Geoghegan, Eric Anoee Jr. shares his insights on a little-known cache of drawings produced by his late father, Eric Anoee Sr., CM (1924–1989), now held at the Manitoba Museum in Winnipeg. It is introduced with a foreword by Dr. Katherine Pettipas, curator emeritus with the museum, who has been undertaking research on this unique collection.

During my years as a curator at the Manitoba Museum, I had the privilege of working with many collections that originated in Indigenous communities in Canada. Among my favourites are the drawings of a young Eric Anoee Sr. This unique collection consists of hundreds of carefully drawn scenes that today serve as a record of life on the land in the Arviat area, as viewed through the eyes of a teenager, rendered in pencil and crayon. Anoee’s place in the history of Inuit art is significant because he is the first documented Inuk to produce art in the Western tradition for his own enjoyment and for the Euro-Canadian market, as early as the 1940s. In 1926, the Reverend Donald B. Marsh established an Anglican mission at Arviat (then Eskimo Point), NU. Marsh and his wife, Winifred, worked among the Paallirmiut and other Kivallirmiut (Caribou Inuit) communities until 1946. Winifred had formal art training and in her spare time she drew and painted. Her husband acquired a large number of artefacts and items of Inuit material, which were loaned and later sold to the Manitoba Museum. Eric Anoee Sr. became acquainted with Winifred Marsh in the late 1930s at the mission school at Arviat. She vividly recalled the youngster’s first indication of interest in art: “Anoee saw me sketching and he said, ‘I can do that.’ So, I said, ‘Well, okay,’ and I gave him pencils and crayons and things, and off he went. Next spring, when he came in, he produced this book; he had this book with all these drawings in it… . He was then just a teenager or just bordering on teenager.” 1

Winifred encouraged Anoee’s interest in art and supplied him with notebooks and other scraps of paper—a precious commodity, evidenced by the fact that each page is filled with numerous drawings. Landscapes, people, housing, transportation, food-gathering activities and animals—especially caribou—appear in a highly realistic style. Views of the Arviat area in the late 1930s, including the missions, the Hudson’s Bay Company post and portrayals of nonIndigenous people, provide insight into the changes that were occurring at this time. Fortunately, Anoee left behind a rich record of later drawings and writings that complement his early illustrations.2 Encouraged by local traders, Anoee received art supplies and began to sell his pictures. He also worked for the church as a reader, a deacon and as a highly valued translator/language teacher. Anoee’s hopes for preserving and promoting the core values and culture of Inuit were realized in 1974 with the establishment of the Inuit Cultural Institute in Arviat. He was asked to be a researcher for the Inuit Tradition Project, and by 1975 was appointed the institute’s director. In addition to publishing, Anoee supervised the recording of elders’ stories and their transcription. Highly respected for his humanity and wisdom, he was appointed as a Member of the Order of Canada in 1982. – Dr. Katherine Pettipas Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

BELOW (LEFT)

BOTTOM

Untitled (Quilt, cached caribou carcass and multiple figures that may include Reverend Marsh and Winifred Marsh) Late 1930s Graphite and wax crayon 20 × 16 cm

Untitled (Ships, sea birds and seals in water, boy on sled, erased figure and man with syllabics over head) Late 1930s Graphite and wax crayon 20 × 16 cm

ALL IMAGES COURTESY MANITOBA MUSEUM

RIGHT

Untitled (Snow goggles, Westclox pocket watch, Inuk and European seal hunters, portrait of unknown individual and portrait of the artist) Late 1930s Graphite and wax crayon 20 × 16 cm

JOHN GEOGHEGAN: When did you first learn about the drawings in the Manitoba Museum Collection that your father made?

pre-teen. When she started to explain more of the background about the art and how these drawings came to be, I started to connect the dots and was quite pleased that I got an opportunity to witness my father’s beginnings as an artist.

ERIC ANOEE JR.: Katherine Pettipas published an article in Northroots, an in-flight magazine on Calm Air, in the fall of 2010. I believe I read it, and then numerous people showed me copies of it. I got in touch with Katherine not too long after, maybe a year later or so. She responded right away, and we started emailing back and forth from then on.

JG: Can

EA: My father was born near Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, near the Kazan River. His mother moved him to an area closer to the Arviat region when he was young, and he grew up there. In Arviat there was a missionary, Donald Marsh and his wife, Winifred, and during the day they offered some sort of schooling. My father attended school with Winifred Marsh, so I would think she had a big role in introducing my father to the medium of pencil drawing and, later in his life, oil on canvas.

JG: So, how long was it until you were able to see the drawings in Winnipeg? EA: It was about eight years after I found out about the existence of the drawings. I was planning to be in Winnipeg in April 2018, with family, so that’s when I finally got a chance to see the collection for myself. JG: And

JG: Your father continued to make art, mainly paintings in the 1960s and 70s?

what was it like seeing the drawings for the first time?

EA: I could not believe it when Katherine told me that my father made them in the 1930s. He was quite young then—a teen or

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you tell me a little bit about your father?

EA: Yes. When forced settlements were imposed, there was a need to make a living. This is when the Inuit art economy started growing.

Interview: Eric Anoee Jr.

This collection of sketches are a look at how life was back then, not just by any person, but by a young Inuit man who had no boundaries. —

My father became a sculptor and made art to supplement his income. He carved in stone and other media, but his favourite medium was paint.

EA: For the most part, I think, he created this art from what he saw: scenes from everyday life that struck him and things from memory. For instance, there are a lot of scenes of wildlife and traditional Inuit life in small coastal places like Eskimo Point, now Arviat. He drew scenes of Hudson’s Bay Company boats, different denominations of churches and other items that were just normal, everyday things back in this time.

JG: It is really interesting to now see these drawings and understand where it all began. EA: Yes, very much so. I had always understood that Inuit art came to be in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, when James and Alma Houston fostered and introduced the concept of modern Inuit art. I always assumed that was the beginning. Many people believe the first Inuit to make drawings were famous artists like Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013), Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992) and Pitseolak Ashoona, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), but my father was making his drawings 20 years before they started.

JG: This is an interesting time period as many of the drawings also show qallunaat (non-Inuit). There are fishermen as well as members of the community, so the drawings capture a big moment of change for Inuit. Looking back at the 1930s, is that something your father ever talked about? EA: Yes, definitely. I think he was there for the beginning of these changes, where different outside forces were coming to his land. For instance, religion, traders or Royal Canadian Mounted Police and other new things must have struck him because he put them on paper.

JG: But these drawings, and many other objects that exist in museums around the world, provide evidence that Inuit have a rich history of making art, including drawings and sculpture. I think that it’s wonderful that we are able to share this.

JG: Do

you have any favourite drawings from this collection?

EA: Yeah, that is quite true. From time immemorial, Inuit have been crafting for necessity and for their belief system, among other reasons. Inuit have always been artistic. Even though there might have been a lack of tradition in the use of paper by Inuit, there has always been the existence of art in many forms.

EA: I have a lot of favourites. One of them is the scene of a dog team. In the frame, two men are hunting caribou with their rifles in hand and aiming at a herd of caribou. It is like a snapshot of something that we do not see anymore. This part of our culture that my father illustrated, which was very much alive back then, is not so present anymore.

JG: Specifically looking at some of your father’s works from the late 1930s and early 1940s, there are very sophisticated drawings of ships, buildings, animals and airplanes. Are these things that he witnessed in the community, or do you think he was drawing from other books and resources that were available to him?

JG: I’m looking at the drawing and I notice that he has even labelled tuktu for the caribou and he has also labelled himself!

Inuit Art Quarterly

EA: Yeah, and of course he named the dogs in the team—they all had names. The other fellow, I believe, was his friend, Owegayak.

Fall 2018

OPPOSITE

Untitled (Portraits, battle, portrait of the artist and man paddling a kayak with seal) Late 1930s Graphite and wax crayon 20 × 16 cm LEFT

Untitled (Airplanes, Anglican Church at Arviat [then Eskimo Point], Catholic Church at Arviat women pushing strollers, Hudson's Bay Company post with radio tower and caribou) Late 1930s Graphite and wax crayon 20 × 16 cm

in an open-spirited way. When you are young, you are more open and carefree. So I think these drawings present a picture of typical Inuit life back then. They are not political and they are not really overly religious. The drawings are just something that a freespirited young person could have had the freedom to express.

This must have been a reflection of the time when he and his friend went caribou hunting with a dog team. JG: It is so incredible that he was able to label things so that we can look at these drawing almost 80 years on and be able to see how he represented himself as well as his place in the world.

JG: Moving forward, what do you hope will happen with the drawings?

EA: Definitely.

A lot of my other favourite drawings are those of clothing. One of the sketches shows Inuit boots and beaded parkas. He illustrated different types of Inuit boots, which we call kamiik, and also the designs on beaded parkas. I believe they are not everyday parkas but special ones. And, of course, it looks like one of his favourite subjects was caribou. He learned how to draw caribou really well, because caribou has traditionally been a very important part of our lives, whether it is for food or clothing.

EA: From my point of view, I want to share them with family and friends and definitely with my children. One of my younger children is really into making art, and my father’s drawings reminded my son and I why he has a natural interest in sketching. I also want to share this with people up here. I would like to do a project in the future—whether it is something to do with animation, an exhibition or a booklet. I’m starting to think about how I can best show these to my people. I was really blessed to be raised by such good parents, who were artists themselves. My mother, Martina Anoee (1933–2011), was well known for her Inuit sealskin dolls, and my father for his paintings and sculptures. I think people and organizations that support Inuit art are very important because, back when Inuit communities were settled, art became an increasingly important part of their identity. Many Inuit started as artists and, even today, part of our identity is art, which I’m really grateful for.

JG: It is also lovely to see all the small things he included too— the little everyday details of matches, accordions, a harmonica and those smaller everyday items that I do not think people necessarily think were in the Arctic in the 1930s. EA: Yeah, that’s right. In one of the drawings he did, he sketched the people in his life that he met. Whether it was his friends or traders and whatnot that he remembered, he drew the people around his circle of friends and named who they were. JG: If there is one thing that you want people to know about the art that your father made, and these drawings in particular, what do you think that would be? EA: I

think this collection of sketches are a look at how life was back then, not just by any person, but by a young Inuit man who had no boundaries. He told the stories that came out of his mind

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This interview has been edited for clarity and condensed.

NOTES ¹ Interview with Winifred Marsh conducted at the Manitoba Museum in 1976. ² Eric Anoee, “My Writings,” Inuktitut (Winter 1977): 5–51.

Interview: Eric Anoee Jr.

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LEGACY

Mark Emerak (1901–1983 Ulukhaktok) — Untitled 1975 Graphite 50.7 × 66.5 cm

Printed Matters: Unearthing the Ulukhaktok Archive

by Katheryn Wabegijig

In January 2017, three safes were opened after being locked for decades in the community of Ulukhaktok (Holman), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT. Inside were hundreds of historic drawings, prints, stencils, documents, stories and photographs, including the original graphic experiments of Helen Kalvak, CM, RCA (1901–1984) and Mark Emerak (1901–1983), created at the Holman Print Shop (now the Ulukhaktok Arts Centre). Inuit Art Quarterly

The history of printmaking in Ulukhaktok began with the formation of the Holman Eskimo Co-operative and included artists Helen Kalvak, Victor Ekootak (1916–1965), Jimmy Memorana (1919–2009), Harry Egotak (1925–2009) and William Kagyut, encouraged by Father Henri Tardy, who ran the Catholic missionary and in 1962 introduced them to printmaking using sealskin stencils.¹ Holman Eskimo Prints 1965 features the 60

inaugural print collection from the co-op, which almost consistently produced an annual collection until 2000. Necessity, style and marketability saw the techniques of the artists and printmakers change throughout these 35 years, from sealskin stencil to stonecut to woodcut to lithography and finally back to stencils, primarily utilizing Mylar. All of these experiments, original drawings and prints were carefully and quickly Fall 2018

LEGACY

Agnes Nanogak Goose (1925–2001 Ulukhaktok) — Untitled (The Owl Who Married a Goose) 1973 Felt pen and paper collage 45.7 × 61 cm each

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LEGACY

Agnes Nanogak Goose — Drawing for the print The Mosquito 1992 Felt pen 76 × 55.7 cm

While the editioned prints were always the end goal, the drawings preceding the prints are invaluable. packed in three crates in -55° Arctic February weather and shipped to Canadian Arctic Producers (CAP) in Mississauga, ON, the marketing arm of Arctic Co-operatives Limited (Arctic Co-ops), who have whole heartedly served their co-ops over the past 53 years. I am the Collections Manager at CAP tasked with the honour of caring for, cataloguing, digitizing and, most crucially, rehousing the community’s graphic archive in order to ensure their long-term conservation.² When I first toured the show room, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of sculptures and the amount of talent on display. My current workplace is an industrial warehouse area where shipping and receiving and storage and repairs occur. I am familiar with this environment. I have worked in picture framing workshops, warehouses and manufacturing facilities, handling all things to do with the care of artwork over the past 20 years. This opportunity is different; this is an unearthing. Constant discoveries are found in every layer of work that I diligently sift through in these plain pine crates. It is exciting to me, this newcomer to the Inuit art world, but for my colleagues, who have been working with the Ulukhaktok co-op, printmakers, artists and their artwork for decades, it is beyond that. Their love for these communities and their artists is contagious and very easily understood. I feel the importance and relevance of this archive that I will explore for the next nine months. Opening each carefully wrapped folder that emerges from these crates is like unwrapping a gift—an archive of memory and culture of this community that captures its history, talent and spirit. There is an inherent desire to spend time with each piece, but also a practical need to collect and enter the required data, research where possible, label and then temporarily store each object to then be photographed. Ultimately, the precious in-depth research must be saved for after the technical aspects of managing this collection have been addressed. The vital first step in this project is a full inventory of Inuit Art Quarterly

Ulukhaktok’s formal printmaking program, know these artists and the community of from 1961 to its end in 2000. Ulukhaktok over these first few months is Undoubtedly, Ulukhaktok’s earliest seal- vital to reconnecting these drawings and skin prints hold incredible value—culturally, prints to their maker. artistically and otherwise—when we think While the editioned prints were always about the beginnings of this legacy. Stored the end goal for the co-op, the drawings in a folder were 79 sealskin prints and exper- preceding these prints are invaluable. They iments signed by Egotak (or Igutak), Kalvak show the creative process of the graphic (or Kalvakadlak), Jimmy Memorana, Bill (Billy) designer and how true to the artist’s renderGoose (1943–1989) and Paul Ipiilun, bearing ing the printmaker would stay. Thus far, their respective identifying designation, there are over 40 identified artists who have symbol or chop. drawings in various states of completion Artist Agnes Nanogak Goose (1925– found in this historical archive. 2001) produced an astonishing number of Although there is a highly consistent drawings covering a vast range of subject presence of particular artists in the Holman matter. These works won Nanogak Goose catalogues there was always room given to high esteem and an honourary degree from new artists. In a signed letter included in Mount Saint Vincent University in Halifax, the Canada Council for the Arts grant proin 1985.³ Already, over two hundred of her posal, artists Peter Palvik, Helen Olifie, Mary works have been catalogued, including 38 Okheena, Mabel Nigiyok, Emily Kudlak and paper collage designs, still in their air Louie Nigiyok included the statement, “On mailed box from the National Film Board behalf of the artists of Ulukhaktok, NT, we of Canada in 1973, addressed to “Nanogak.” would like to see printmaking return to our Research proved to be somewhat difficult community. With regards, the Artists of as Nanogak Goose is not named or Ulukhaktok.” These established artists, and tagged within the NFB website [Ed. Note: those that will emerge, are essential to revithe NFB have since updated their website talizing printmaking in Ulukhaktok. This to include a credit for Nanogak]. The project allows these artists, their community, collages were used in the making of the researchers, curators and collectors to film The Owl Who Married a Goose: re-engage with Ulukhaktok’s almost An Eskimo Legend (1974), a short directed forty-year history of printmaking by making and animated by Caroline Leaf, using these images available and accessible in sand animation based on Nanogak Goose’s one cohesive archive for the very first time. designs.4 In the end credits the artist is recognized with “DESIGN: NANOGAK.” Unidentified works that are uncovered NOTES within the crates give room for further dis¹ Susan Gustavison, “The Early History and Enduring covery through post-photography research, Narrative of Kinngait and Ulukhaktok’s Sealskin when they will finally be available through Stencils,” Inuit Art Quarterly 31, no. 2 (Summer 2018): 56–57. digitization on a newly acquired collections management software system designed for ² This project is made possible by the Creating, Knowing and Sharing: Long-Term Projects grant funded by the museums and heritage organizations. An Canada Council for the Arts. artist’s design style can be highly recogniz- ³ Inuit Art Quarterly Profiles, s.v. “Agnes Nanogak Goose,” able and consistent in detail within the sub- accessed August 17, 2018, https://inuitartfoundation.org/profiles/artist/ ject matter that was chosen catalogue after agnesnanogakgoose. catalogue, but there is always the chance 4 Caroline Leaf, The Owl Who Married a Goose: that a drawing could be highly influenced An Eskimo Legend (Toronto: National Film Board of by another artist’s style. Slowly getting to Canada, 1974), DVD. 62

Fall 2018

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Alootook Ipellie: Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border Carleton University Art Gallery SEPTEMBER 17–DECEMBER 9, 2018 OTTAWA, ON

Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007 Iqaluit) — Nuna and Vut (panel from serial comic strip) 1994 Ink on illustration board 25.4 × 38.1 cm ALL PHOTOS JUSTIN WONNACOTT

by Christine Lalonde

Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border will be Alootook Ipellie’s (1951–2007) first retrospective, and in fact the only major exhibition in a public gallery to feature the artist to date. Coming just over a decade after his untimely death in 2007, this exhibition, co-curated by myself, Sandra Dyck and Dr. Heather Igloliorte, brings together the multifaceted aspects of his talent and will likely surprise even those who were close friends and followers. As with retrospectives of the most worthy artists, the exhibition clearly lays out the important and rich legacy left to us by this singular talent. Given how widely Ipellie was known throughout Canada—including by so many in Ottawa—the United States and parts of Inuit Art Quarterly

Europe, this lack of exhibition history reflects the particular, one might even say peculiar, position of the artist-author in his lifetime. Although Ipellie was an active part of the circle of Inuit leaders who fought for and achieved Inuit land claims and rights in the 70s through to the 90s, he was not a politician, nor was he involved directly in negotiations for the creation of Nunavut. Rather, Ipellie was a powerful and quiet observer from the sidelines, with a strong voice that was able to reach Inuit and non-Inuit alike, speaking to pressing, often difficult, issues through his visual art and writing. Ipellie’s cartoons and articles brought another Inuit perspective into the critical debates of the day, often with an offbeat ironic 64

humour. Reflecting on events as they occurred at the time, his images and writings illuminate these issues far beyond a strictly documentary sense. In articulating how political decisions impacted, and continue to impact, the everyday lives of Inuit, his work has an ongoing relevance that speaks as loudly and clearly today and reveals Ipellie as a visionary ahead of his time. Likewise within the art world, Ipellie held his ground on the periphery. In his introduction to Arctic Dreams and Nightmares (1993), Ipellie writes about how his art did not fit the mould of Inuit artmaking that had been established through community cooperatives and government funded arts and crafts programs, and how his work was Fall 2018

CURATORIAL NOTES

His work has an ongoing relevance that speaks as loudly and clearly today and reveals Ipellie as a visionary ahead of his time.

outright rejected by experts in the Inuit art world at the time.1 This unfortunate dismissal is evidenced by the fact that Ipellie’s artworks were not acquired by public institutions that were actively collecting Inuit art in Canada. Today, however, in the context of an increasing interest in Inuit art within contemporary art spheres, Ipellie’s art is finally receiving its due. The artist is being recognized for breaking through boundaries, and his contributions to art and writing are being appreciated at large. All this is to say, that Ipellie was an outlier who created and subsequently occupied a unique space in Inuit art in Canada. Although widely known for each aspect of his practice, independently, the complete scope of Ipellie’s work has never been seen in full measure and remains largely unknown. In preparing for the exhibition, this pendulum swing between “known and unknown” was evident in the effort of locating artwork. While the earliest cartoons, such as those

published in Inuit Monthly and Inuit Today, and the original boards for the serial comics Ice Box (1974–1982) and Nuna and Vut (1994–1997) were easily accessible, as Sandra has previously noted, the challenge was to locate finished drawings, as none were in public collections.2 However, the response when contacting individuals who knew the artist and collected his work has been deeply personal and inequitably respectful. This attitude is similarly reflected in the quick response by the galleries that will host this exhibition after its inaugural showing at the Carleton University Art Gallery (CUAG).3 Over the past two years and through several working sessions, Sandra, Heather and I, along with diligent students at CUAG, have sifted through the massive corpus of Ipellie’s visual and literary archive. Our collective curatorial approach organizes his art production into three main bodies of work—early cartoons, serial comic strips, and drawings for literary works—while not losing

Cover of Getting the Most Out of Your Telephone in the North (1977), designed by Alootook Ipellie, published by Bell Canada in collaboration with Inuit Tapirisat of Canada (now Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami)

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CURATORIAL NOTES

LEFT

Yes Nunavut poster, designed by Alootook Ipellie, published by the Inuit Tapirisat of Canada Nunavut Plebiscite Committee in 1982 RIGHT

Nunavut Wants You poster, designed by Alootook Ipellie, published by the Nunavut Constitutional Forum in 1987

Inuit Art Quarterly

Paper Stays Put (1980), edited by Robin sight of their interrelatedness, as many were completed simultaneously. The installation of Gedalof, included in the exhibition and which will be seen in public for the first time 75 artworks (a small percentage of the whole) follows these groupings and includes in decades. Ipellie’s most significant accomplishIpellie’s literary work, which likewise cannot ment, his book Arctic Dreams and be considered as separate expression. Nightmares, opens this third part of the First, are the earliest cartoons for exhibition. Seamlessly weaving his visual magazines published by the Inuit Tapirisat art and storytelling, bound together through of Canada (now Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami), his imagination, these are the most elabothe non-profit national organization that reprate and intense drawings in the exhibition resents all four of the Inuit regions. Modest in scale, the drawings nonetheless have clout in every sense. While writing these notes, I pulled out my copy of the book to reread in their commentary on significant political the introduction and was quickly captured events and the impact of colonization, (a choice of word that would have amused and foregrounded Ipellie’s ability to commuIpellie) by the compelling images, both nicate complex subjects in a few deft lines. visual and written. I had no choice but to Ipellie’s regular serial comic strips, most read, enthralled, to the end of the book. notably Ice Box and Nuna and Vut, are the In this series of drawings, the power of his second related body of work. Certainly not imagination is undeniable and inescapable. void of political or social commentary, their The exhibition closes with a selection of narrative is centred more broadly on the flux works from Ipellie’s last solo show in 2007 and flow experienced by Inuit from the at Gallery 7A in Ottawa. 1950s and onward. That Ipellie himself lived It has been a privilege for our curatorial through the upheaval and shifts experienced team to gather together these far-flung by Inuit families during the colonization of works from individuals and collections alike the North and was able to relay that history with grit and an astute humour is what gives in order to pay tribute to an artist whose intricate imagery, regardless of media, these comic strips a weight that is not to describe a period in Inuit life with sharp wit, be underestimated. gentle humour and hard-won wisdom. Finally, as much as images, words were a primary mode of expression for Ipellie, and NOTES his written works function as a consistent 1 Alootook Ipellie, “Introduction,” in Arctic Dreams and stream that runs behind years of drawing. Nightmares (Penticton: Theytus Books, 1993): xvi–xvii. In the cartoons and comic strips, his writing 2 “Highlights,” Inuit Art Quarterly 31, no. 1 (Spring 2018): takes the form of a dialogue between char14. 3 Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border will travel acters or conversations that sometimes to the Richard F. Brush Art Gallery at St. Lawrence included the artist himself. It is really in his University in Canton, New York, the Nunatta book projects that image and word coexist Sunakkutaangit Museum in Iqaluit, NU, the Art Gallery side by side. As curators, we are excited to of Hamilton and Gallery 1C03 at the University of have several of the original drawings for Winnipeg in Manitoba throughout 2019 and 2020. 66

Fall 2018

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Contemporary Native Art Biennial La Guilde / Stewart Hall Gallery

Caroline Monnet Renaissance 2018 Photographic print 101.5 × 152 cm ALL IMAGES COURTESY LA GUILDE

MAY 3–JUNE 22, 2018 MONTREAL, CANADA

by Çiğdem Talu

The fourth edition of the Contemporary Native Art Biennial, co-curated by Niki Little and Becca Taylor, has an enveloping theme: níchiwamiskwém / nimidet / ma sœur / my sister. Taking sisterhood as an expansive feminist space of gathering, collaboration, connection and knowledge-sharing, Little and Taylor suggest this biennial is a place “with and for our sisters” and of “belonging to one and for another.” The biennial convenes 40 Indigenous artists who identify as female, non-binary or two-spirit at four venues in and around Montreal, QC—including Stewart Hall Gallery, La Guilde, Art Mûr and the Sherbrooke Museum of Fine Arts— to grapple with topics ranging from traditional stories and imagery to searing contemporary commentary. As a result, the selected works by both established artists Inuit Art Quarterly

and emerging voices position sisterhood as a shared responsibility. At La Guilde many of the works are installed in close proximity in the central hall of the gallery, making the escape to their vast inner worlds a much-needed relief. Opening to spaces far beyond the physical confines of the gallery, the emotional spheres within these works extend from and collapse into one another, creating complex intersections where viewers are challenged to look at and inhabit multiple worlds simultaneously. Particularly striking is the arrangement of Caroline Monnet’s reimagined European group portrait Renaissance (2018) next to Napachie Pootoogook’s (1938–2002) figurative lithograph of three women with a nursing child Myth of the Tuniit (2000). Drawing from oral histories and 68

intergenerational knowledge, Pootoogook’s lithograph presents the shared domestic space of Tuniit women, the ancient people who inhabited the Arctic before the modern Inuit. Stones line the perimeter of their shared home, while the black and white chine-collé produces a background to the sleeping women, charged with intricate textures and objects. In Monnet’s image, First Nation and Métis women in Renaissance-style clothing pose in shared strength. Filmmaker Alanis Obomsawin, OC, GOQ, actress Dominique Pétin and Monnet herself, among others, occupy the photographic space both conceptually and physically. In kinship, their gaze is set directly upon the camera and us, the viewer. Nearby, Mayoreak Ashoona, RCA’s lithograph Cleaning Fish (1981), depicts Fall 2018

REVIEW

The emotional spheres within these works extend from and collapse into one another, creating complex intersections where viewers are challenged to look at and inhabit multiple worlds simultaneously.

a quotidian moment of women working, coloured in yellows and soft browns, bridging physical space as well as content. Taken as whole, these three works support each other by transforming a historical chasm (intergenerational resurgence, ancient domestic routines and traditional Inuit life) into a shared narrative of collaboration. A second of Ashoona’s prints, Raven’s Domain (1995), featuring an abstract image of ravens—perhaps the final stage of a shamanic transformation—is on view nearby at Stewart Hall Gallery. Although this work does not neighbour Sorosilutu Ashoona’s Her Crowning Glory (1993), a shared story continues across these enchanting works that can be read as a separated diptych. Her Crowning Glory illustrates the initial moment of a shamanic transformation—a woman moves through the wind, a large comb in her hand with billowing, wing-like hair about to take flight—appearing as a prologue to Raven’s Domain. The shared emphasis on spirituality, stonecut printing and the ethereal blue-green gradients further their formal as well as thematic connections. The works take strength from their intersections, each from a different time and place but bound by their shared accounts, histories and conceptions of communal feminine being: sisterhood.

Despite a strong overarching curatorial framework, there are some pairings that are less successful than those outlined above. In one instance at La Guilde, Ningiukulu Teevee’s Mythical Kudlik (2017) is placed within the enclosed site of Community Tattoo Action (2018), an installation for the Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project that was used by founder Hovak Johnston at the opening preview to give Inuit visitors traditional kakiniit (tattoos) and tunniit (facial tattoos). The canvas tent functions as a support structure for both the biennialspecific event and the larger project it represents. When not in use by Johnston, visitors are invited to fetch the illustrated book on the revitalization project and sit on the secluded bench within to read it. Teevee’s stonecut, featuring two arms adorned in kakiniit cradling a kudlik (oil lamp), functions as a visual and symbolic link to the ancestral ties at the core of Johnston’s project. When absent of the activity it was constructed to frame (Johnston tattooing in situ), however, the resulting “site” (featuring a largely empty tent) fails to consistently activate the Teevee print within, while arguably hindering Mythical Kudlik from conveying its own distinct narratives beyond its relation to the deactivated site. The shared space of these two works is further

complicated as a nearby print—rotated during the run of the biennial—urges visitors to view it, alongside Teevee and Johnston’s work, as part of a series. Still, this strategy—of rearrangement, layering and interruption—can be read as a deliberate curatorial decision to provide new interrelations through opposing works. The curators’ feminist methodology seeps into the space here by purposefully disrupting the expected linear viewing experience. If linearity is a trait of patriarchal and colonial forces—monarchies, dynasties and the like—can sisterhood be better conceived as a cosmos? In gathering and collaborating, the works transform one another by adding branches to existing narratives, or to those left unfinished, and as a result give agency to the stories each inner world contains by holding space and moving across it. Taken as a whole, níchiwamiskwém / nimidet / ma sœur / my sister is experienced as a galaxy with no centre, the entirety of which is bound by Indigenous sisterhood itself—each work and artist orbiting around another. In each venue and through each work the message echoes: “In care, we carry our sisters.”

Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002 Kinngait) — Myth of the Tuniit 2000 Lithograph and chine-collé 52 × 45 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS

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REVIEW

Nick Sikkuark: A Celebration Marion Scott Gallery MAY 26—JUNE 23, 2018 VANCOUVER, CANADA

Nick Sikkuark (1943–2013 Kugaaruk) — Untitled (Igloo) 2011 Coloured pencil 22.9 × 29.8 cm ALL IMAGES COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

by Marshall Webb

A keen eye for detail and deft ability with coloured pencils, oilstick, ink, graphite and more are discernable in this exhibition of works by the late Nick Sikkuark (1943–2013). Some 30 works reveal his craftsmanship as well as his devotion to land, animals and community. While renowned for his sculptures, Sikkuark’s graphic works render the world both simple and complex—surreal yet inescapably tangible. The more time one spends with these works, the more they relay the artist’s particular focus on the entanglements between the natural and supernatural worlds. Inuit Art Quarterly

Sikkuark typically drew the land as a vast, treeless expanse evident in an untitled work from 2003 that depicts a sunset over an expanse of water. At its centre, a large iceberg looms against a sky of orange, yellow and grey flecks. Below, the sea’s current moves in brown, blue and green. At the edge of the iceberg, water laps translucently while the sun subtly peaks from behind its edge. Untitled (2005) could be yet another coastal drawing with water and rocky promontory, except that 13 tiny eruptions of flame 70

punctuate the scene. Moving closer— always necessary with Sikkuark’s work— two faces appear to float in the water blowing the sea upwards into the air. In the distance, atop the cliff, two forms—whether inuksuit, shamans or humans—survey the action below. Similarly, anthropomorphic forms emerge from the colourful stainedglass swatches in Untitled (Igloo) (2011). Here, a kaleidoscope of colours reveals a bear, foxes, fish, seals and human figures as they step or float beyond the edges of the structure. Read together, these drawings Fall 2018

ABOVE

Untitled 2013 Coloured pencil 45.7 × 59.7 cm

are a celebration of the harmony between humanity and nature and are indicative of the shamanic forces running throughout Sikkuark’s work—uniting fire, water, air and earth. Such forces are also evident in a remarkable untitled drawing from 2005 of a lone hunter trudging along the shore—camping gear strapped to his back, a bow held in his right mitted hand. Within the sky’s pale purple, blue and yellow expanse, a wispy figure mirrors the lone wanderer. The pair are joined by a third companion, a diminutive figure walking behind the larger hunter and carrying a spear. Together, these three figures create a mysterious, haunting image. Further references to the bonds between the natural and human worlds appear in a large work from 2013, where blue pencil undulates across and around the page in arabesques evocative of Henri Matisse’s paper cut-outs from the late 1940s. From within the patterning, a large, slightly stooped, parka-clad figure stands out, a harpoon close at hand. As the outline of a large iceberg beyond comes into focus, we see this intricate blue-white patterning is the water and the ice on which the hunter awaits his prey. Amidst these landscapes and depictions of shamanic power, a suite of drawings from 2004 presents jolly humans and gleeful grotesques. These curious figures thematically connect to two untitled works from 2011 that are especially surreal. In one, a man leads a large four-legged creature with a lean torso, claws and monstrous head by a rope. In another, a standing clawed behemoth, drawn in acid green, save for tiny fire-red eye slits, looms. These drawings relate to the lone sculpture in the exhibition: a four-legged creature carved from caribou antler and skull, with a muskox-fur mane, from whose head a fish-like form emerges. Considering the breadth of work on display, how do we reconcile the tenderness of Sikkuark’s portraits with the ferocity of his grotesques or the quiet of some landscapes with the eruptions of fire and shamanic power? In light of the artist’s belief in the unity of these natural, supernatural and human forces, such questions require us to look closely for possible answers in Sikkuark’s complex world—and, in turn, our own. Paper

2018 CAPE DORSET

dorsetfinearts.com

Host Galleries Canada: STRAND FINE ART SERVICES London, ON US: DENNOS MUSEUM STORE Traverse City, MI

PAUOJOUNGIE SAGGIAK, Spirit in the Limelight, Stonecut 67 x 46.5 cm

ANNUAL PRINT COLLECTION

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2018-07-26 11:27 A

NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

BELOW

OPPOSITE

Annie Naulalik Qappik (b. 1967 Panniqtuuq) — Moonlight Over Pang 2018 Stencil 45 × 63 cm

Kenojuak Ashevak (1927–2013 Kinngait) — Untitled (Face with colour wings) 1966–76 Felt-tip pen and ballpoint pen 12.9 × 16.8 cm

COURTESY UQQURMIUT CENTRE FOR ARTS & CRAFTS

COLLECTION WEST BAFFIN ESKIMO CO-OPERATIVE COURTESY ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO

Bart Hanna Kappianaq Awarded Large-Scale Commission in Ottawa On July 9, 2018, in conjunction with Nunavut Day celebrations, the Speaker of the House of Commons, the Honourable Geoff Regan, announced that noted Iglulik-based sculptor Bart Hanna Kappianaq has been commissioned to install a new work in Centre Block, the main building of the complex on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Nine short-listed artists were invited to submit maquettes from which a jury, comprised of the Curator of the House of Commons Johanna Mizgala, Dominion Sculptor Phil White and invited experts, selected Hanna Kappianaq’s proposal to create a high relief, sculptural tympanum. The sculpture is expected to be completed in 2019 to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the creation of Nunavut. Hanna Kappianaq’s work will be exhibited in Parliament’s West Block before its final installation in the House of Commons Foyer, after the restoration of Centre Block is complete.

Panniqtuuq Releases First Major Print Collection Since 2011

For the first time in seven years, the Uqqurmiut Centre for Arts & Crafts in Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung), NU, launched a new print collection at the Nunavut Arts Festival on July 8, 2018, in Iqaluit, NU.

This year’s offering features a variety of works by Eena Angmarlik, Tim Alivaktuk, Leetia Alivaktuk, Elisapee Ishulutaq, CM, May Lonsdale, Jolly Attagoyuk, Joel Maniapik, David Poisey, Andrew Qappik, CM, RCA, Annie Naulalik Qappik, Piona Keyuakjuk and Mathewsie Maniapik that range from vast landscapes to intimate scenes. The collection was made available for purchase in late August 2018 and was printed by Eena Angmarlik, Leetia Alivaktuk, Jolly Attagoyuk, Andrew Qappik, Annie Naulalik Qappik and Piona Keyuakjuk. Established in the late 1960s, the Pangnirtung Print Shop released the first Inuit Art Quarterly

annual Pangnirtung Print Collection in 1973 through what is now the Arctic Co-operatives Limited. This inaugural collection was carried in fine art galleries across North America, with additional collections released between 1975 and 1980 as well as between 1983 and 1988. While production slowed during the late 1980s, a resurgence of printmaking in Panniqtuuq was spurred by the incorporation of the Uqqurmiut Inuit Artists Association in 1988. The association relaunched in 1992, operating from the new Uqqurmiut Centre, and produced an annual collection until 2011. 72

Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter Receives Inaugural Emerging Artist Award Yellowknife-born, Edmonton-raised Inuvialuk artist and curator Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter was announced as the recipient of the inaugural Primary Colours/Couleurs primaires Award at a ceremony at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity in Alberta this June. The award provides an exceptional emerging artist, who is Indigenous or of colour, with a monetary prize of $2,000 to support their practice. “Jade is an outstanding figure among a new generation of talented and prolific Indigenous artists,” said co-director of Primary Colours/Couleurs primaires France Trépanier. “Both in their visual art practice and their writing, Jade exhibits critical insight combined with an inspired wit.” Nasogaluak Carpenter currently holds the title of Indigenous Curatorial Practicum at the Banff Centre. Based in Calgary and Banff, they are a core member of the curatorial team for the new Inuit Art Centre Fall 2018

NEWS

at the Winnipeg Art Gallery, opening in 2020, as well as Ociciwan Contemporary Art Collective. Their work spans a variety of media and is defined by a calculated use of humour to empathetically address themes of mental illness and diaspora. Dr. Heather Igloliorte Awarded Significant Grant for Arts Leadership Project In June 2018, Dr. Heather Igloliorte, Inuk curator, Associate Professor of Art History and Research Chair in Indigenous Art History and Community Engagement at Concordia University, was awarded a substantial Partnership Talent grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC). The $2.4 million grant will support Igloliorte’s proposal “The Pilimmaksarniq/ Pijariuqsarniq Project: Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership,” which aims to radically increase the Inuit presence in arts research and arts-based professional practice. To support the project, an all-Inuit team of artists and researchers from Inuit Nunangat and beyond, as well as partner institutions—including the Inuit Art Foundation, Winnipeg Art Gallery and the National Arts Centre—have been assembled with a central goal of establishing mentorship and training opportunities, rooted in Inuit knowledge and societal values, for Inuit students. Initiatives such as knowledge workshops, innovative mentorship opportunities, integrated learning and Inuit-specific training opportunities will aid in professional skill building. “We have partnered with Inuit organizations, arts institutions and universities and colleges that have a lot of Inuit students and find new pathways for their success in the arts,” explains Igloliorte. “We are really growing something exciting here.”

The exhibition was organized by the AGO in partnership with Mobilizing Inuit Cultural Heritage (MICH) project, with the support of Dorset Fine Arts and led by a curatorial team composed of sculptor Koomuatuk (Kuzy) Curley, artist and writer Taqralik Partridge, photographer and curator Jocelyn Piirainen and performance artist Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory, alongside the AGO’s Fredrik S. Eaton Curator, Canadian Art Georgiana Uhlyarik and York University professor and principle investigator of MICH Dr. Anna Hudson. The exhibition officially opened to the public on June 16 and continued until August 12, 2018. Nunavut Arts Festival Takes Over Iqaluit From July 4 to 9, 2018, the Nunavut Arts and Crafts Association (NACA) presented the 2018 edition of the annual Nunavut Arts Festival in Iqaluit, NU. Various events and activities were programmed across the six-day festival to celebrate artmaking in Nunavut, including workshops featuring sealskin upholstery, sculptural casting, 3D modeling and leatherwork. The festival also featured an Igloo Tag Consultation event, hosted by the Inuit Art Foundation, on Saturday, July 7 at Nakasuk School. The launch of the 2018 Pangnirtung Print Collection on Sunday and the hallmark Nunavut Day Art Fair were not-to-be-missed. Joining in on the festivities were 14 artists from across the territory, including Josie Pitseolak, Akeego Killiktee, Mosha Arnatsiaq, Madeleine Qumautuq, Lydia Qayaq, Eena Angmarlik, Nazie Darehshoripour,

Becky Okatsiak, Nooks Lindell, Ida Jane Kapakatoak, Danny Aaluk, Naomi Hikoalok, Mary Qingnaquq, Monica Ell-Kanayuk, Tania Scott, Annie Petaulassie and Peter Ragee. Norma Dunning Wins Multiple Literary Awards Edmonton-based Inuk writer, researcher and scholar Norma Dunning was awarded the 21st Danuta Gleed Literary Award from the Writers’ Union of Canada on June 14, 2018, for her book Annie Muktuk and Other Stories (2017), published by the University of Alberta Press. Valued at $10,000, the award is an annual accolade in memory of writer Danuta Gleed that recognizes the best first collection of short fiction by an author published in English during 2017. “The poignant stories in this collection evoke the silent and overt desires, aspirations, successes, failures, and inner lives of its many Inuit characters, including the charismatic Annie Muktuk,” said jury members Andrew J. Borkowski, Shree Ghatage and Doretta Lah. “Dunning crafts a landscape that is at once intimate and mythically vast. Tragedy and humour intertwine in spellbinding narratives that deliver raw emotion and an acute sense of humanity.” In early June, Dunning also received the Howard O’Hagan Award from the Writers’ Guild of Alberta for the short story “Elipsee.” The story is among 16 others included in the award-winning aforementioned book, which was also Foreward Reviews’ bronze winner for short stories. Alongside her many accolades, this summer a commissioned poem by Dunning was installed inside

Landmark Retrospective of Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak Mounted in Toronto On June 13, 2018, the Art Gallery of Ontario hosted the public opening for the largest exhibition of Inuit art in the institution’s history. Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak took over the gallery’s Sam & Ayala Zacks Pavilion, highlighting the enormous artistic legacies of both Ashevak and her nephew Pitsiulak. Sketches and key art works by the artists were highlighted alongside newly commissioned works by the all-Inuit curatorial team. Opening night festivities featured the granting of the Inuit Art Foundation’s inaugural Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award to co-curator Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory and the carving of a seal in the gallery’s central Walker Court. Paper

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the new TD Visa Infinite Credit Card Lounge in Toronto, ON’s Union Station, featuring bold white syllabics across a vivid green background. Inuit Designers Take Centre Stage at IFWTO From May 31 to June 3, 2018, Harbourfront Centre presented the inaugural Indigenous Fashion Week Toronto (IFWTO), which included a variety of exhibitions, lectures, showcases, panels and workshops alongside a marketplace dedicated entirely to the work of Indigenous artists, designers and entrepreneurs. “It’s [IFWTO] a multifaceted platform that supports Indigenous artists in the way that we want to be supported,” explains Artistic Director and Co-Founder Sage Paul. “It really was an evolution of me working alongside many different artists and just trying to create a space that’s going to help support, benefit and foster Indigenous designers.” Across the four-day event, numerous Inuit-led brands, hailing from Arviat, NU, to Greenland, showcased the best of their offerings. Among the designers present were Victoria Kakuktinniq of Victoria’s Arctic

Fashion, who presented a collection of parkas, sealskin mittens and more that blend traditional techniques with contemporary design; Barbara Akoak of Inuk Barbie Designs, who displayed delicate copper seal earrings among other fine jewellery; and Martha Kyak, whose sealskin Sakiaguti qisik necklace was a stand out, in addition to the work of Inuk Design, Hinaani Design, Inuk 360 and Nuuk Couture, among others. Visit the IAQ online for designer interviews, profiles and more. Kangiqliniq Adds Kivalliq Regional Visitor Centre to Its Cultural Infrastructure The official opening of the Kivalliq Regional Visitor Centre in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, was announced on June 16, 2018. “The Kivalliq Regional Visitor Centre will provide a vital link between outfitters, tourist establishments, guides and tourists,” noted Premier Joe Savikataaq. “The visitor centre will give those who reside in the Kivalliq an opportunity to showcase their art and culture and provide visitors with a welcoming experience.” Constructed between 2013 and 2017 by Yellowknife- and Iqaluit-based Guy Architects,

the new centre contains seven glass boxes dedicated to highlighting the artifacts and stories of the seven surrounding communities in the Kivalliq Region. The ribbed ceiling is inspired by the skeletal structure of a whale and provides an expansive vista of Hudson Bay and the community of Kangiqliniq. Nunavik Cultural Centre Opens in Kuujjuaraapik The Nunavik community of Kuujjuaraapik has a vibrant new addition: a multipurpose cultural centre built to accommodate up to 300 people. Designed by Montreal-based Blouin Orzes Architectes, the 680-squarefoot Nunavik Cultural Centre will provide space for a variety of cultural programs including singing, dancing, storytelling, film, concerts, gatherings and much more for the residents of the 13 surrounding communities. The vibrant yellow landmark is located on a sand dune near the Great Whale River looking onto Kuujjuaraapik’s historic church and was developed in consultation with members of the community over a number of years. The one-and-a-half-story structure officially opened its doors in fall 2017.

ONE-OF-A-KIND ART CARPETS AND TAPESTRIES Weaving begins as a gift to the future.

REVELATION SUN by KENOJUAK ASHEVAK

ARCTIC COTTON by NINGIUKULU TEEVEE

SHAMAN CELEBRATION by KENOJUAK ASHEVAK

Inunoo Inuit Carpets is a licensed importer of GoodWeave-certified rugs. While consulting in the Arctic for the West Baffin Eskimo Cooperative, textile designer and owner Doug Mantegna met legendary artist Kenojuak Ashevak. Now he has translated some of her famous prints and works by other Inuit artists into limited edition signed rugs, woven by Thailand and Nepalese weavers out of New Zealand, handspun wool and silk. In the language of Canada’s Inuit, Inunoo means “of the people” and each rug design, created by a contemporary Inuit artist, speaks of Inuit cultural values. Those values—concern and care for the earth—are what Inunoo supports. 659 Charlotte St. Niagara-on-the-Lake, ON l0S 1J0, CANADA www.inunootextiles.com 1-905-849-3770

Inuit Art Quarterly

Fall 2018

Specializing in Inuit art since 1963

Joseph Palluq

Ernie Kadloo

Lucy Mapsalak

Silas Qayaqjuaq

83 Sparks St. Mall, Ottawa, Ontario snowgoose.ca l 613-232-2213 l info@snowgoose.ca

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Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok Arviat Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok (1934–2012 Arviat) — Untitled (Sculptures in a Landscape) 2005 Wax crayon and graphite 50.2 × 65.5 cm COURTESY WALKER’S AUCTIONS PHOTO DIETER HESSEL

Inuit Art Quarterly

Although widely known and loved for her voluminous, stacked family portraits in stone, Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok (1934–2012) was equally adept at creating immersive, vibrant worlds on paper, as seen here in Untitled (Sculptures in a Landscape) (2005). Like many of her Arviamiut contemporaries, Tutsweetok skillfully worked to coax even the most abstracted faces and forms from the unforgivingly dense, local grey stone surrounding her community. By contrast, her graphic figures stretch and crane themselves away from one another and from their bases, as if greeting long lost friends on neighbouring rocks, their mouths agape and caught mid-conversation. It is easy to imagine their words suspended in the crosshatched space between compositions—honey-yellow hellos, fiery magenta replies and cool, blue-green gossip. This is an animated scene full of life and energy, qualities that Tutsweetok also imbued in her sculptural works, but that are perhaps less readable in that solid form on first pass. This work is also demonstrative of the artist’s repeated engagement with her favoured subjects of the human face, family and home, motifs that she returned to again and again throughout her long and prolific career. As a result, there is no question that Tutsweetok is clearly showing us four of her own carvings. This is an artwork about artwork and a portrait of other portraits, and it’s this simple fact that relays the most poignant, emotive tug of all. Drawn at the age of 70, this work encapsulates the arc of a career and a life lived. For Tutsweetok, perhaps the output of it all could be surmised as sculptures in a landscape.

Fall 2018

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