Inuit Art Quarterly - Painting: Northern Imaginations

IN THIS ISSUE:

Beyond the Group of 7 A New Arctic Vision — An Art History Primer 12 Painters to Know Now — Still, Life Megan Kyak-Monteith

Painting

Northern Imaginations

CONTENTS

33.4

Inuit Art Quarterly Painting

Front

Features

Back CURATORIAL NOTES

04 Contributors

62 Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami

by Jocelyn Piirainen

05 From the Editor

TRIBUTE

06 Impact Update

66 Adam Alorut William Noah

5 WORKS

16

True Colours

68 News

CHOICE

LAST LOOK

20 Shuvinai Ashoona

by Mark Igloliorte

72 Pudlo Pudlat

CHOICE

22 Gilbert Hay

by Darryn Doull PROFILE

24 Logan Ruben

by Emily Henderson

28 Matchbox Mountaintops

by Tarralik Duffy

Captivating a wide audience with her signature dreamy style, painter Megan Kyak-Monteith is on the threshold of a career breakthrough.

36 State of the Art

Four Inuit painters discuss the challenges and advantages of pursuing careers in a medium that is infrequently associated with Inuit art.

PORTFOLIO

46 Saniraq

ON THE COVER

Megan Kyak-Monteith (b. 1997 Mittimatalik) — Iceberg 2018 Acrylic 91.4 × 61 cm

5 muralists bring colour to the North.

COURTESY THE ARTIST

LEGACY

Megan Kyak-Monteith — Where’s the HP Sauce 2019

ABOVE

54 A Speck of Snow Falling on An Arctic Landscape

by Anik Glaude

Painted landscapes by the Group of Seven established for much of Southern Canada a vision of the Arctic. In a recent series of watercolours, Nunavimmiut multidisciplinary artist Niap challenges this view.

COURTESY THE ARTIST

LEFT

Logan Ruben (b. 1995 Paulatuk) — Untitled (Lake Campsite) 2019 COURTESY THE ARTIST

Painting

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Front

MASTHEAD

CONTRIBUTORS

PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

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

Executive Director and Publisher Alysa Procida

President Heather Igloliorte Montreal, QC

Editorial Director Britt Gallpen

Secretary-Treasurer Erica Lugt Inuvik, NT

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.

Managing Editor Michael Stevens Online Editor Jessica MacDonald

Eric Anoee Jr. Arviat, NU Reneltta Arluk Banff, AB

This magazine relies on donations made to the Inuit Art Foundation, a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282).

Profiles Editor Emily Henderson

The Inuit Art Foundation gratefully acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through contributions from the Reconciliation Secretariat at Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada and the Department of Canadian Heritage, as well as the Ontario Arts Council, Canada Council for the Arts and Ontario Creates.

Contributing Editor Napatsi Folger

Michael Massie Kippens, NL

Contributing Editor Profiles Bronson Jacque

Ryan Rice Toronto, ON

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: December 5, 2020 ISSN 0831-6708 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 3T1 (647) 498-7717 inuitartfoundation.org 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. 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.

Audio-Visual Editor Melodie Sammuartok-Lavallee

Jamie Cameron Toronto, ON Linda Grussani Ottawa, ON

Contributing Editor Online Leanne Inuarak-Dall Copy Editor Lisa Frenette Fact Checker Amy Prouty Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Art Director Matthew Hoffman Colour Gas Company

—

FOUNDATION Strategic Initiatives Director Heather Campbell

Inuvialuit Settlement Region Community Liaison Darcie Bernhardt

Igloo Tag Coordinator Blandina Attaarjuaq Makkik

Nunatsiavut Community Liaison Holly Andersen

Development Manager Christa Ouimet

Nunavik Community Liaison Nancy Saunders

Executive Assistant Alyson Hardwick Archives Coordinator Joanna McMann Archival Technician Graphic Materials Arwa El Hussein

Nunavut Community Liaison Jesse Tungilik Southern Canada Community Liaison Alberta Rose Williams

—

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

Inuit Art Quarterly

Heather Campbell is an art consultant and artist from Rigolet, Nunatsiavut, NL, now based in Ottawa, ON. She has a BFA from Sir Wilfred Grenfell College School of Fine Arts, Memorial University, and has worked as a Curatorial Assistant at the Indigenous Art Centre of Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada (CIRNAC) in Gatineau, QC, and the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON. Currently, she is working as an Indigenous researcher at Library and Archives Canada. Recently, she started a new position as the Strategic Initiatives Director at the Inuit Art Foundation. PAGE 36

Tarralik Duffy Tarralik Duffy is a writer, multidisciplinary artist and designer from Salliq (Coral Harbour), NU. Much of her work centres on contemporary Inuit culture, and her experiences as an Inuk living between her Arctic island home and city life in the South.

Duffy’s visual work was most recently featured in a group exhibition at the Marion Scott Gallery in Vancouver, BC, and her fine jewellery line Ugly Fish regularly appears in fashion events and gallery shops across Canada. Duffy’s Inuit Art Quarterly essay “Uvanga/Self: Picturing Our Identity” was featured in Best Canadian Essays 2019. PAGE 28

Anik Glaude

Printing Interprovincial Group

Administrative Assistant Brittany Holliss

Heather Campbell

Taqralik Partridge Dominique Ritter Elizabeth Qulaut

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Anik Glaude is a Franco-Ontarian curator based in Toronto, ON. She received an MA in Art Museum and Gallery Studies at Newcastle University in the UK, and her curatorial work has been recognized by the Ontario Association of Art Galleries. As the Curator of the Varley Art Gallery of Markham, ON, she has curated projects such as Innovative Spirit: The Prints and Drawings of Pudlo Pudlat, Xiaojing Yan: Out from among the tranquil woods and Moving through darkness into the clearing, with works by Greg Staats. PAGE 54

Jocelyn Piirainen Jocelyn Piirainen is an urban Inuk, originally from Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU, and currently working as the Assistant Curator of Inuit Art at the Winnipeg Art Gallery in Manitoba. Her educational background has primarily focused on the arts, particularly film and new media. When not working as a curator, her artistic practice involves experimenting with Polaroids and Super 8 film, as well as honing her crochet and beading skills. PAGE 62

Winter 2020

FROM THE EDITOR

Embarking on an issue focused on painting, a medium not often associated with Inuit artists or Inuit art history, presented an interesting challenge—not dissimilar from those we faced in creating our Winter 2016 issue on Photography.

How best to situate contemporary artists alongside and in relation to a media with a weighty colonial history?

Painting, much like photography, has a long and intertwined relationship with empire building, nationhood and identity.

In a Canadian context in particular, the legacy of the Group of Seven—Lawren Harris, A.Y. Jackson and Frederick Varley among them—and their near-iconic painted depictions of landscapes including the Arctic, largely devoid of human figures, in the early twentieth century were a critical tool in the creation of a national visual language that cast northern North America as rugged, pristine and untouched.

ABOVE

Kingmeata Etidlooie (1915–1989 Kinngait) — Untitled 1979 Ink, acrylic and colour pencil 40 × 50.4 cm

To offer our readers a nuanced counternarrative, we set out to trace a comprehensive art history of Inuit painting. What we found instead were historical pockets of activity and experimentation that occurred largely independently of one another and were heavily mediated by a given community’s access to the materials needed to produce such works. These included colour wash drawings in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, in 1974, as well as oil stick and acrylic experiments in Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, from the 1990s onwards among other initiatives.

In the end, what pushed its way to the fore throughout production of this issue was the demand to document and share the vibrancy of Inuit painting now. Artists like Niap who work across the intimacy of watercolours— explored with an eye to the legacy of Varley’s Arctic images in “A Speck of Snow Falling on An Arctic Landscape”—to the expanse of built walls in this issue’s Portfolio where her work is joined by Charlotte Karetak, Sheree McLeod, Kailey Sheppard and Jessica Winters.

Likewise, this issue’s conversation “State of the Art” brings together three early career painters, Bronson Jacque, Darcie Bernhardt and Aija Komangapik, and is moderated

by Heather Campbell, an early adopter and trailblazing painter in her own right.

The cover artist for this issue, Megan Kyak-Monteith, might already be a familiar name to you. We first profiled Kyak-Monteith in our Winter 2018 issue, Exchange, and have been following her career closely over the

ensuing years. The accompanying Feature, authored by Tarralik Duffy, considers the profound impact of place—and often the distances between places—as a catalyst for works rich in personal and collective memory and experience. Finally, the Profile artist for this issue is painter Logan Ruben, whose psychedelic colourscapes of acid green, magenta and teal signal an exciting artist to watch.

This final issue of the year also marks some beginnings and endings. On behalf of the IAF staff, I’d like to extend a heartfelt thank you to our departing Board Member Patricia Feheley, who has been an integral part of our organization for the past eight years. I’d also like to welcome Linda Grussani, a curator, writer and past IAQ contributor to the Board of Directors. We are thrilled to have you join us! Lastly, I would like to welcome Heather Campbell, who has joined us as the inaugural Strategic Initiatives Director for the IAF. We look forward to working with her to support artists working across the North and beyond, through the publication and across all of our programs. Welcome Heather!

As this year, one unlike any other, draws to a close I hope this issue finds you and your family and friends well. We wish you health and happiness in 2021 and look forward to filling your year ahead with new stories and beautiful art. Thank you for reading.

Britt Gallpen Editorial Director

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © KINGMEATA ETIDLOOIE

Painting

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THANK YOU

Donors make all the difference.

IAF Sustainers Circle

The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation

With annual gifts of $1,000 or more, this incredibly dedicated group provides critical support to connect artists with opportunities and make an extraordinary impact.

$5,000–$9,999 Jamie Cameron and Christopher Bredt, in honour of Dorothy Cameron Susan Carter Andrew Chodos, in honour of frontline Covid-19 workers Goring Family Foundation Hugh Hall Marion Scott Gallery Patrick Odier and one anonymous

$100,000 RBC Foundation $75,000–$99,999 The John and Marian Scott Charitable Trust $25,000–$49,999 Power Corporation of Canada TD Bank Group / The Ready Commitment $10,000–$24,999 First Arts Willmott Bruce Hunter Foundation John and Joyce Price

IAF Supporter’s Circle The Supporter’s Circle is a special group of donors who give monthly to sustain the IAF and create opportunities for artists.

Inuit Art Quarterly

The Radlett Foundation Frances Scheidel, in memory of Thomas M. Scheidel

Monthly supporter Endowment supporter Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award supporter Inuit Art Quarterly supporter IAQ Profiles supporter

$2,500–$4,999 Huit Huit Tours Ltd. and Cape Dorset Inuit Art Jackman Foundation Charles Kingsley Katarina Kupca Hesty Leibtag David and Liz Macdonald Danielle Ouimet and Paul Harper, in honour of Christa Ouimet

$1,000–$2,499 Nakasuk Alariaq Paul and Ellen Alkon Lewis Auerbach and Barbara Legowski Jim Bader and Merri Van Dyke Shary Boyle Ross A. Caton Donald and Pat Dodds Marian Dodds, in honour of Dedie Dodds Eleanor Erikson Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. David Forrest Inuit Art Society Kalaman + Demetriou (K+D) Joyce Keltie Elske and Jim Kofman Ann and Michael Lesk Christie MacInnes Susan Marrier

Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Mary Nirlungayuk, on behalf of Member Co-operatives in Canada's Arctic in support of their arts Susan A. Ollila Constance Pathy Joram and Lona Piatigorsky Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg Andrew and Valerie Pringle Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Shirley Richardson Céline Saucier David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Barb Turner Manon Vennat CM Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Jaan Whitehead Norman Zepp and Judith Varga

Amy Adams Manasie Paniloo Akpaliapik Nakasuk Alariaq Lea Algar-Moscoe Mary Anglim Andrea Arnold Stephen Baker Vincent and Barbara Barresi Tobi Bruce

Jamie Cameron and Christopher Bredt, in honour of Dorothy Cameron Catherine Campbell Claudia Christian Catherine Dean Celia Denov Donald and Pat Dodds Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais

Melanie Egan Lynn Feasey Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Anik Glaude Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Barbara Hale Lisa R. Hartman Shawn Hassell Dianne Hayman Brittany Holliss

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Winter 2020

THANK YOU

Inuit Art Foundation donors celebrate and nurture artists, bringing untold stories to light.

Because of donors, global awareness and appreciation of Inuit art and artists continue to grow. Donors provide opportunities for artists to explore their practices, learn new skills and grow.

The generous donors listed in these pages made all of this and more possible by giving between September 1, 2019 and September 30, 2020.

This support is especially critical now in these uncertain times. Thank you!

Friends of the Foundation $500–$999 James R. Abel, in honour of Xanthipi L. Abel Carole Ahmad and Family Alaska on Madison Shelley Ambrose Blair Assaly Stephen Baker Vincent and Barbara Barresi Suzanne Brais, in memory of Clare and Phil Brais Jamie Cameron, in honour of Judy Hauserman Jamie Cameron, in honour of Jeanette Power Tobi Bruce Catherine Campbell Lili Chester Jeffrey Cobb, in memory of Justin Lyman Cobb, III Mary-Dailey and Paul Desmarais III Arthur Drache CM, QC and Judy Young Drache

Jon and Val Eliassen Lyyli Elliott Robert and Karlen Fellows Dr. and Mrs. Peter Gardner Janice Gonsalves Gillian Graham Linda Grussani Erik Haites Bryan Hellwig, Iqaluit, Nunavut Margaret and Roger Horton Lou Jungheim and Thalia Nicas, in memory of Francine Rosenberg Rawlson King Dr. Simon E. Lappi Ellen Lehman Kathleen Lippa Mark London Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia Blandina Attaarjuaq Makkik and Greg Rogers, in memory of Amelia and Paul Angilirq Merrick Veterinary Practice, with thanks to Dr. James Bader DVM Kathryn Minard

Nancy Moore Allan Newell Nadine Nickner and Harald Finkler Clifford Papke Martin Pâquet Paul Pizzolante Ryan Rice Deborah and Sandy Riley Wendy Rittenhouse Michael and Melanie Southern Richard Sourkes Marie-Josée Therrien Carol J. Thrun Joel Umlas Gail Vanstone Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Catherine Wilkes Rahim Yeung and two anonymous donors [1 , 1 ] $250–$499 John and Sylvia Aldrich Elleanor Allgood Elizabeth Ball, in memory of Thomas G. Fowler

Devony Baugh Susan Baum Carol and Brian Belchamber Marc Bendick Jr., in honour of Adventure Canada Rev. Gary Boratto Woody Brown and Christa Ouimet, in memory of Susan Oster Kaaren and Julian Brown Stephen Bulger Aaron Cain Laurence Castella Geoffrey and Martha Clark L.E. Cleman, in memory of Fred Cleman Jane Coppenrath Rob Craigie Clint Davis and Hillary Thatcher Celia Denov Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais Nathalie Ducamp Sandra Dyck Melanie Egan Yvonne and David Fleck Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti

Amy Jenkins Katarina Kupca Rebecca Lee, in honour of David Lee Samia Madwar, in memory of Hazar Sawaf Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Roxanne McCaig Elizabeth Mitchell and

Stephen Lloyd Stephen Morris, in memory of Aqjangayuk Shaa Clifford Papke Aarohi Patel Kara Pearce Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Robin and David Procida

Eva Riis-Culver Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Michael and Melanie Southern Joyce and Fred Sparling David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Jacek Szulc Emilie Tremblay

Gail Vanstone Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Peggy J. Weller Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Jayne Wilkinson Rahim Yeung and four anonymous donors

TO LEARN MORE ABOUT HOW TO SUPPORT ARTISTS, PLEASE CONTACT US AT 647-498-7717 OR VISIT US ONLINE AT INUITARTFOUNDATION.ORG. AS A REGISTERED CHARITY IN CANADA (#121033724RR001) AND THE UNITED STATES (#980140282), THE IAF WELCOMES DONATIONS, SPONSORSHIPS, LEGACY GIFTS AND IN-KIND CONTRIBUTIONS.

Painting

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THANK YOU

Iñupiaq artist Jerome Saclamana puts his own contemporary spin on tradition, creating mixed-media sculptures depicting spiritual subject matter, with a focus on shamanism. His work was recently showcased in “Arctic Remix: 6 Artists Working in Collage” in the most recent issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly.

COURTESY THE SMITHSONIAN ARCTIC STUDIES CENTER PHOTO ASH ADAMS

Susan Gallpen Gas Company Paul G. Gemmiti Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Carol Gray Mark Gustafson Barbara Hale Sally Hart Ainslie Harvey Ian Harvey Shawn Hassell Susan Hawkins Dianne Hayman Carol Heppenstall Rick Hiebert Heather Igloliorte and Mathew Brulotte Drs. Laurence and Katherine Jacobs Sonya Kelliher-Combs Sharon Kozicki Lori Labatt Val K. Lem Linda Lewis Louise Logan Dr. Marie A. Loyer The MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation

Samia Madwar, in memory of Hazar Sawaf P. McKeown Mary-Ann Metrick, in honour of Cécile Metrick Robert Michaud Scott Mullin Mike and Brenda Noone Alex and Ann Maners Pappas Aarohi Patel Robin and David Procida Frank Reid Jim and Shelley Renner, in memory of Norah Renner Margaret Rieger Bruce Roberts Kerstin Roger Margerit Roger, in memory of Dieter Roger Sheila Romalis, in memory of Lorne Balshine Michael Ryan, in honour of Patricia Ryan Judith Rycus Leslie Saxon West Mark Shiner Scott Snowden

Bernardo and Jansje Stramwasser Cedar Swan Jacek Szulc Jay and Deborah Thomson Emilie Tremblay James and Louise Vesper Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Amanda Whitney Zynga and three anonymous donors [2 ] $100–$249 Manasie Paniloo Akpaliapik Lea Algar-Moscoe Jane and Wallace Altes Beatriz Alvarez Mary Anglim Eric Anoee Jr. Sue Asquith John Beck Heather Beecroft, in honour of George Swinton Diane Biehl Jurg and Christel Bieri

Terry and Donna Bladholm Marjorie Blankstein CM, OM, LLD Dianne Bohonis, in honour of Peter Bohonis Claus and Anne Borchardt Francois Boucher Karen Bradfield Lisa-Margaret S. Bryan David Burns John Butcher David Caesar Dorothy W. Caldwell Gabrielle Campbell Mary F. Campbell CarData Denise Cargill Karen Coflin Bernie and Roger Caswell, in loving memory of Moya Antonia Gillett (O’Leary) Susan Charlesworth Claudia Christian Carol Cole Norma Costas Cowley Abbott Fine Art Bernard Cummings Drs. Raymond and Charlene Currie

LEFT

Throughout his career, Jerome Saclamana has found continued inspiration from this photograph of carver Luke Anautalik at work published in a 1990–91 Winter issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly titled “Inuit Art World.” © INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

THANK YOU

I am honoured to have my work in the IAQ—to be seen around the world.

The IAQ is so important to me. Whenever I’m having a hard time with my art, I think back to this photograph in the IAQ years ago of this distinguished Inuit carver. He is standing amongst pieces of stone and holding his grinder, wearing winter gear, his face showing years of overcoming struggles.

This image is such an inspiration to me—to keep going and push through.”

JEROME SACLAMANA

Fred and Mary Cutler George Dark Brian Davies Catherine Dean Emily Deming Tania De Rozario Diane and Daryl Howard Charitable Foundation Nadine Di Monte François Dumaine Hélène Dussault and Louis Hanrahan Leslie Eisenberg Pat English Leah Erickson Keith Evans Andy Fallas Lynn Feasey Dee Fenner and Charles Moss Robin Field Shirley Finfrock Ellen Fraser Ed Friedman Joanne and Richard Fuerst Surabhi Ghosh, in honour of Jashiben Nayak Anik Glaude Carole Gobeil

Claire S. Gold Peter Gold and Athalie Joy Deborah D. Gordon Nelson Graburn, in honour of Eli Sallualuk Qirnuajuak Puvirnitumiutak Dave Haber and Dominique Ritter Erik Haites, in honour of John Goeghegan John A. Hanjian Kathryn Hanna Tekla Harms Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Clive Harvey Janet Heagle Anne Hearn Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Laurie Herd Josh Heuman and Gary Horenkamp Charles Hilton Brittany Holliss Albert and Femmeke Holthuis David Homan

Richard Horder Jane Horner Dale Horwitz Warren Howard Chuck Hudson Dr. Jacqueline Hynes Mandy Ilk Phil Ivanoff Susan Ivory, in memory of Melvin A. Ivory Lynn Jackson Marion “Mame” Jackson Dr. J. Jackson-Thompson in honour of Dr. Richard C. Thompson Lynne and Ed Jaffe Amy Jenkins Sharon Jorgens Nicolette Kaszor Nancy Keppelman and Mike Smerza Dwaine and Leslie King Cathy Kirkpatrick Lynne Klemmer A. B. Kliefoth MD Julie L’Heureux Christine Lalonde Carolyn Lawson

Dianne Lawson Colleen Leduc David Lee Rebecca Lee, in honour of David Lee Gordon Leggett Joe and Sandra Lintz Kenneth Lister Daryl and Marilyn Logan, in memory of Chelsey Russell Denis Longchamps Simone Ludlow Daniel Macdonald, in honour of David and Liz Macdonald Lois MacDonald Catherine Madsen Alan Mak John Maounis, in honour of Margaret S. Bursaw George Marcus Elaine and Neil Margolis Brett Marshall Keith Martin William Mather The Honourable Paul Mayer Irene Mazurkewich Roxanne McCaig

RIGHT

Jerome Saclamana shares his knowledge and signature ivory carving process, honed over a long career, with Athabascan artist Mary Johns. The two artists were photographed at the Sculpting Ivory artist residency and student workshop at the Anchorage Museum in 2015.

COURTESY THE SMITHSONIAN ARCTIC STUDIES CENTER PHOTO WAYDE CARROLL

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THANK YOU

We don’t usually quote staff in the magazine, but this is a wonderful way to introduce the newest addition to the Inuit Art Foundation team. Heather provided her perspective on your support a few weeks ago, which is shared here. Since then, she has become the inaugural Strategic Initiatives Director. We are thrilled she is bringing her energy and commitment to the IAF.

© INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Alison and Bruce McDonald Rick McGraw Lindsay McIntyre, in memory of Kumaa’naaq Elizabeth McKeown Phyllis and G. Lester McKinnon Tess Saare McLean Valerie Meesschaert, in memory of Rene D’Hollander Brian and Kathleen Metcalfe Joanna Miazga Stephen Morris, in memory of Aqjangayuk Shaa Nanooq Inuit Art Suzanne Nash Gary Nelson Susan Newlove Suzanne O’Hara Louisa L. O’Reilly Hal and Donna Olsen Dr. Robert Olson Carole and Peter Ouimet Kara Pearce Kate Permut Don Pether A. A. Piccini Ed Pien, in memory of Tim Pitsiulak and Jutai Toonoo

Inuit Art Quarterly

Heather Campbell is an accomplished painter from Nunatsiavut, whose work can be found in public collections across Canada. She also has a long history with the IAQ: most notably, Heather’s painting, Early Break-up (2013) was the cover of the Fall/Winter 2015 issue, Nunatsiavut!. She has been a regular contributor to the IAQ as well, including writing the Community Spotlight in the Summer 2020 issue.

Richard and Annette Pivnick William and Joanne Prieur Prue Rains Isabelle Ranger Blaine Rapp Bayard D. Rea Leslie Reid Timothy W. Reinig Bruce Rice Eva Riis-Culver Marcia Rioux Tom Robbins Joan Robertson Janet Robinson Greg Rogers, in honour of Blandina Attaarjuaq Makkik, 2020 Gold winner for National Magazine Awards Short Feature Writing R.M. and Y.K. Rothenberg Yves Rousson and Lise Morneau-Rousson Margaret Rundall Lynne B. Sagalyn Joseph Salkowitz DMD Dr. Jinder Sall Alexa Samuels Paula Santrach

Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Jeffrey Seidman Douglas Selley Scenery Slater Liz Smeloff Joyce and Fred Sparling Charmaine Spencer Elizabeth Steinbrueck George Szabo Carol and Charles Tator C.K. Tessier Hunter and Valerie Thompson Robert C. and Judith Toll Ann Tompkins Theresie Tungilik Roslyn Tunis Dr. Anne Vagi Teri and Jerry Vakenti Erik Val Peg and Peter Van Brunt Judith Varney Burch Mary Jo Watson John Weber, in memory of Mary MacDonald Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Peggy J. Weller

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Scott White Jayne Wilkinson Dallas D. Young Bea Zizlavsky Anonymous Inuit Art appreciator and eleven anonymous donors [1 , 1 , 4 ] Up to $99 Amy Adams Anne Altern Susan Anthony Judy Archer Andrea Arnold Catherine Black Michael Boland M.L. Breinig Nicholas Brown Kevin Burns Janet Chamberlain Mark Cheetham Maria Coates Jill Coles Zoe Colon Charles Crockford Anastasiia Danylova Shirley Dawe

Winter 2020

THANK YOU

If it wasn’t for the Inuit Art Foundation, I would not have had any exposure to the history of Inuit art, even after completing my BFA. The more I learned about it through the Inuit Art Quarterly, the more I recognized patterns and aspects of my own work that I hadn’t realized were elements of Inuit art. It is incredibly important for Inuit artists to make this connection with our heritage. The IAQ is such an important resource.”

HEATHER CAMPBELL

Jennifer Day Sharon Dembo Wilfrid Denis and J. Poulin Paulette Dennis Emmanuelle Desrochers Leanne Di Monte Harry Dietz Kristin Dowell Stephanie Ellis Lynne Eramo Sherry Farrell Racette, David and Lauren Feiglin Chun Hoong Fong Glenn Gear Gabrielle Girard-Charest Alan Goldstein Karen and George Gorsline Susan Griswold T.E. Gruber Edward Guyette and Beth Vienot Liz Haines Erik Haites, in honour of Christa Ouimet Joseph Halmy Alissa Hamilton Andrea Hamilton Beatrice Hanson

OPPOSITE

Heather Campbell works in her inimitable watercolour style, painting Mind’s Eye, live, in front of an audience gathered at the inaugural iNuit Blanche, presented in part by the Inuit Art Foundation, in St. John’s, NL, in October 2016.

PHOTO CHRIS P. SAMPSON © INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Painting

John Hart Sara Hassan K. E. Heller-McRoberts Emily Henderson Mark Hirschman Linda Hodgson Anna Holmes Home and Away Gallery Andrew Hubbertz James Igloliorte Mark Igloliorte Elwood Jimmy Melinda Jose Serena Kataoka, in honour of Aylan Couchie Arlene Katz Nichols Yui Kawasaki Nga Kotahi Aotearoa Jo-Ann Kolmes Nadia Kurd Magdalen Lau Dr. Virginia Lavin Gretchen Lawrie Niamh Leonard Jamie Lewis Marion Lord Pat and Ross MacCulloch Oriel MacLennan

Jim and Mary Alice Mayerle Liam McKenna Marla Mckenna Patrick A. McLean Mary Jane Mikkelsen Mrs. Margaret Morse Rachel Muir Robert A. Muller Lou Nelson Sunita Nigam, in honour of Jane Pankovitch Shadreck Nyathi Zella Osberg Annie Paquin Louisa Pauyungie Sr. Robert Pilot Patricia Porteous Hélène Poulin Marilyn Robinson Irene Rokaw Anita Romaniuk Mark Rostrup, in honour of Paula Rostrup Wally Sapach Rosmarie Schreiber Iris Schweiger Patricia Scott

Paul Shackel and Barbara Little Cindy Skrukwa Arlene Skull Eleni Smolen Marjorie Sorrell Jennifer Stoots, in honour of Louie Palu and Chloe Coleman Tom Suber B. Thompson Kitty Thorne Anne Van Burek Patrizia In Villani Cocchi Peeranut Visetsuth Charles M. Voirin C. von Harringa Nancy Walking, in memory of Frank Walkling Ann and Marshall Webb Helen Webster Elka Weinstein Catherine E. Whitehead Daphne Wright and John Martin Daphne Young, for Grams, who loved every one of us and eight anonymous donors [1 , 1 , 3 , 1 ]

You can make the difference.

There are more than 13,000 Inuit artists working in Canada today.

Many face unfair barriers to making and showcasing their work, but all of them deserve the same opportunities other artists have for their voices to be heard and their work to be seen.

By giving to the IAF, you help artists working across Inuit Nunangat and beyond connect to opportunities, have platforms for their work to be seen and build their careers.

Celebrate the art you love and make a difference by donating today.

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EARLY DAYS

Indigenous Art at the McMichael November 28, 2020 through June 6, 2021 timed tickets Art Acquisition Sponsor

masks required Presenting Sponsor

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mcmichael.com Kleinburg, ON

Home to the Art of Canada

An Agency of the Government of Ontario

Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun (b. 1957), New Climate Landscape (Northwest Coast Climate Change), 2019, acrylic on canvas, 193 x 243.8 cm, Purchase 2020, McMichael Canadian Art Collection

Supporting Nunavut artists, inspiring communities The Government of Nunavut’s Public Art Initiative supports Nunavut artists creating engaging works of art in their communities.

Ikauyuqtuqniginik Nunavumi hanauyaqtit, upipkaiyaagani nunagiyauyuniitut Kavamat Nunavumi Inuit Hanauyaagnik Hulijutit ikayuqtuiyut Nunavumi hanauyaqtinik hanavlutik upijutauyunik havaanik hanauyautinik nunagiyamikni.

Soutenir les artistes du Nunavut, inspirer les communautés L’Initiative d’art public du gouvernement du Nunavut soutient les artistes du Nunavut qui créent des œuvres d’art inspirantes dans leurs communautés.

SPONSORED

In advance of the opening of the Inuit art centre at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG), the building has been formally given its name by the WAG’s Indigenous Advisory Circle: Qaumajuq, an Inuktitut word meaning “it is bright, it is lit.”

“Light was quickly embraced by the Indigenous Advisory Circle,” says WAG Director and CEO Dr. Stephen Borys about the naming process.

“It sent a wave through the project,” and the Circle continued to name every part of the building with Indigenous words signifiying light, exposure, transparency and hope. The Circle also gave the WAG itself an Anishinaabemowin name, Biindigin Biwaasaeyaah—meaning “the dawn of light is coming” —which “reflects its location on Treaty 1 territory.” We spoke with the Indigenous Advisory Circle’s co-chairs to learn more.

INUIT ART QUARTERLY: How, and why, did the Indigenous Advisory Circle form at the WAG? DR. HEATHER IGLOLIORTE AND DR. JULIE NAGAM:

There was a strong need for an Indigenous Advisory Circle with the creation of the new [Inuit art centre] and the need for decolonization. In 2017, we became the official co-chairs and created the Circle with

WAG staff and Indigenous representation from Manitoba and Inuit Nunangat.

at museums and galleries within Canada and abroad.

IAQ: What were the goals of this naming process?

IAQ: What do you hope visitors take away from their experience of Qaumajuq?

HI AND JN: The “Inuit art centre” as a name was always a placeholder.

The Circle discussed how to Indigenize the Gallery and create a feeling that it was our space and decided Indigenous language was key. We wanted to have representation from the Indigenous languages of Manitoba and Inuit Nunangat to showcase the breadth of knowledge keepers that represent the collection and building.

We are thrilled not only to name the two buildings, but also to name galleries, gathering spaces and educational spaces in both buildings.

We are excited about the impact of this naming and in the context of the continuing decolonization taking place

HI AND JN: We hope that guests come away with a stronger understanding of the depth of various mediums and knowledge that the circumpolar region holds. We are excited to showcase Inuit creators working in every kind of artistic practice you could imagine.

We are excited for visitors to be hosted in this incredible building that demonstrates collaboration between Inuit, First Nations and Métis people.

— The WAG Indigenous Advisory Circle provides Indigenous leadership and counsel in the development and planning of WAG-Qaumajuq exhibitions, education, community outreach, partnerships and programming.

SPONSORED

ALL COURTESY WINNIPEG ART GALLERY ALL PHOTOS ERNEST MAYER

OPPOSITE

Myra Kukiiyaut (1929–2006 Qamani’tuaq) — Traditional Womans Tools 1986 Stonecut and stencil 33 × 47 cm GOVERNMENT OF NUNAVUT FINE ART COLLECTION

ABOVE

Michael Angutituak (1912–1982 Kangiqliniq) — Group on Kudlik 1967 Clay 18.8 × 48.4 × 26 cm GOVERNMENT OF NUNAVUT FINE ART COLLECTION

MIDDLE

Syollie Amituk (1936–1986 Puvirnituq) — Kudlik, Ayarak and Kamik 1977 Printmaker Leah Qumaluk Stonecut 39.2 × 49.9 cm COLLECTION OF THE WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

BELOW

Unidentified artist (20th century Arctic Bay) — Mother with Child Tending Qulliq 1970 Stone and ivory 9 × 6 × 12.5 cm COLLECTION OF THE WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

5 WORKS

True Colours IAF staff choose works that conjure whole worlds with a few hues

OPPOSITE (MIDDLE)

Doris Saunders (1941–2006 Happy Valley-Goose Bay) — Blue Dory c. 1998 Embroidery 7 × 14.5 cm GOVERNMENT OF NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR COLLECTION COURTESY THE ROOMS PROVINCIAL ART GALLERY

2/

Annie Pootoogook

35/36 (2006)

1/

Aisa Amittu

Inagagulliq and Kajutaiyuk Fighting Over an Igloo (1988) This little-known print, Inagagulliq and Kajutaiyuk Fighting Over an Igloo by Aisa Amittu, doesn’t need vibrant colors to capture a memorable scene. Printed entirely in black ink, Amittu created an impressively detailed scene of a confrontation between Inagagulliq and a Kajutaiyuk, who has kicked the top off the man’s igloo in the background. Though the Kajutaiyuk was a frequent subject for both Amittu and his father, Davidialuk Amittu (1910–1976), this is my favourite version.

The artist’s skill in rendering the fine line

ABOVE

RIGHT

Aisa Amittu (b. 1952 Puvirnituq) — Inagagulliq and Kajutaiyuk Fighting Over an Igloo 1988 Linocut 55.9 × 76.2 cm

Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016 Kinngait) — 35/36 2006 Collagraph and stencil 44.1 × 75.9 cm

COURTESY LA FÉDÉRATION DES COOPÉRATIVES DU NOUVEAU QUÉBEC

Inuit Art Quarterly

detail of both figures is matched only by the evocative expressions on their faces.

Though Inagagulliq rushes towards her full of fury, the Kajutaiyuk stands firm, a placid expression on her face while she defends herself with one powerfully raised foot. Amittu captured a tense scene between equals, the force of their confrontation emphasized by the starkly contrasting colours.

Ruby, scarlet or cherry—while there are many descriptors for the colour red, all are synonymous with notions of passion, decadence and intimacy. Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016) uses the colour red to highlight these aspects of a familiar object, the bra, in this print from 2006.

The undergarment is reduced to its basic shapes and blown up to fill the page, set against a textured sea of more red. Pootoogook creates volume by varying the opacity of tone, revealing a lovely lace reminiscent of floral motifs found in other works by the artist. The titular detail, a white tag containing the measurements 35/36, peeks out from behind a strap. Through isolation of colour and subject matter, Pootoogook has created an iconic image that confronts typical expectations of Inuit art and identity that might limit the idea of women’s clothes to kamiit and amautiit. She is writing a new narrative: we are contemporary, diverse and even sexual, too.

ALYSA PROCIDA

LEANNE INUARAK-DALL

Executive Director and Publisher

Contributing Editor

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © ANNIE POOTOOGOOK

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Winter 2020

5 WORKS

3/

Doris Saunders, CM

Blue Dory (c. 1998) The story goes something like this: Doris Saunders, CM (1941–2006) was to be included in an exhibition and sent her work along to be matted, framed and hung. When she arrived for the opening, she was horrified to discover that her beautiful embroidery was backwards.

So fine were her stitches that the preparators couldn’t tell the front from the back. A talented artist with nimble fingers, Saunders created this diminutive embroidery in a single hue,

expertly casting her stitches to subtly reveal her chosen image: a single wooden boat.

In Blue Dory the pulsing drift of the Labrador shoreline is captured by Saunders’ mesmerizing ocean of blue—cerulean, teal, marine and the faintest hint of indigo. A fitting tribute to the palette of her coastal homelands.

Qumaluk Noadamie Novalinga

Untitled (2006)

BRITT GALLPEN

Editorial Director

Stepping back with outstretched arms, a fisherman hauls an impressive catch onto the ice—one sure to make those fishing alongside him green with envy. Artist Qumaluk Noadamie Novalinga captures in his serpentinite carving the moment each ice fisherman waits for with bated breath and hook. Sitting still as stone in a meditative state, you tentatively watch the sinew disappear beneath the surface into the depths, daring a curious fish to take hold.

A good day of fishing means food for your family, so you sit patiently as the sun beams on you and the ice. Your wooden rod tugs gently, followed by the instinctual yank as the lead barb pierces fishy flesh. The sinew dances! The others sitting at their holes swivel in your direction. Novalinga skillfully sculpts the successful lunge backwards as icy water breathes an emerald trophy into existence. Your large catch splashes and slides onto the ice as a smile, surely just as big, slides across your face. Novalinga, with the patience of an ice fisher, sat and sculpted hard serpentinite, to reveal these subtle details while capturing the joy of the event.

4/

Pie Kukshout

Many Faces with Three Seals (c. 1967) Already a notable carver in his 70s when the Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, ceramics project launched in the 1960s, Pie Kukshout (1911–1980) took to clay with aplomb. He produced a quickly distinguishable body of work that seems less to have been crafted by a human hand than to have arrived from a neighbouring dimension. Faces growing out of faces, transforming into animal bodies and made of the earth itself—Kukshout used the malleability of clay to imagine a universe with equal plasticity: the lines that normally separate bodies, identities and even species are all less solid. Through these parallel universes of his creation, Kukshout reminds viewers of the interdependency and connectedness of human, animal and mineral—and it can be a wonderfully pleasing and strange experience to picture a world that isn’t quite as set in stone.

BRONSON JACQUE

Contributing Editor

MICHAEL STEVENS

Managing Editor Painting

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LEFT

ABOVE

Pie Kukshout (1911–1980 Kangiqliniq) — Many Faces with Three Seals c. 1967 Clay 26.7 × 20.3 × 20.3 cm

Qumaluk Noadamie Novalinga (b. 1947 Puvirnituq) — Untitled 2006 Stone, wood, fibre and metal 12 × 13.5 × 5.9 cm

COURTESY WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE

Front

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because of you.

Your donation matters.

If you can, please give today: inuitartfoundation.org/give The Inuit Art Foundation is a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282).

CHOICE

Shuvinai Ashoona Composition 3

BELOW

Shuvinai Ashoona (b. 1961 Kinngait) — Composition 3: Dots of Colours 2019 Etching with hand colouring 122.6 × 92.7 cm ALL REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY ALL © SHUVINAI ASHOONA

by Mark Igloliorte

In a series of four new aquatints by Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, a person dressed for the cold in their parka, hat, scarf and mittens sits on a stack of two rocks, holding a giant mollusk to their side. The person looks out at us— as if this were the most natural relationship.

Meanwhile, two other clam feet stick out of the sand that buries the rest of their shelled bodies. The composition is off centre across each of the prints in the series, which Ashoona has decorated with lively brush

Inuit Art Quarterly

marks depicting waves in one, a rose garden in another, a bed of clams and a series of small, colourful splotches.

This brushwork is a new development for the artist. If you’ve been following Ashoona’s practice, her incredible drawings in ink, pencil and pencil crayon form a distinctive aesthetic now. Her exhibition Mapping Worlds at the Vancouver Art Gallery in British Columbia on view this past spring and fall was a knockout featuring dozens of her drawings. I brought

20

my painting students to the show and they loved it. “This is by far the best show I’ve ever seen,” one student exclaimed. What I appreciate so much about these new aquatints is her ease of expressing—with her composition— and how she embodies—in her practice— comfort with the uncomfortable.

Could there be a clam more out of its shell than this one? Any time I have touched a clam, well, it clammed up—shutting itself up while waiting to be left alone. Yet this clam’s foot is flopped toward the seated figure who holds it. Ashoona’s brushwork is similarly unafraid; there is experimentation, play and delight in her marks.

For myself, as an artist and an educator, I am eager to devote time to investigate creative practices like Ashoona’s, which continually grow and change. The biggest questions this series of clams raise for me are: How does one get this comfortable with the unfamiliar?

How do you get out of your shell?

In 2017, I hosted a public conversation with Ashoona about her practice at the Aboriginal Gathering Place at Emily Carr University of Art + Design in Vancouver, BC. The excitement around her talk was exceptional, bringing in three full classes as well as faculty from across the school and guests in the wider community. Ashoona and I sat at the centre of the room with students radiating out from around us. With no audio system that day, everyone leaned in to catch what Ashoona shared about her work.

Afterward my friend and colleague Hannah Jinkling invited me to co-deliver a drawing unit where we studied Ashoona’s approach to drawing. With Jinkling’s class, we watched the short documentary Ghost Noise (2010) in the studio. In the film, Ashoona talks about the hesitation she feels towards picking up the pencil laying on the table before her.

“It’s scary!” she admits. She quickly follows it with “but it’s not that scary.” I have this written out on a 5×8” card and posted on my studio vision board.

For myself, and for my students, being reminded that, “it’s not that scary” resonates with my aim to have an approach like Ashoona’s, which acknowledges apprehension, but certainly doesn’t dwell on it. For me, these aquatints act as a guide—a glance towards doubt on the way to new and exciting work.

Winter 2020

CHOICE

Could there be a clam more out of its shell than this one?

Any time I have touched a clam, well, it clammed up— shutting itself up while waiting to be left alone. Yet this clam’s foot is flopped toward the seated figure who holds it.

— Mark Igloliorte is an interdisciplinary artist of Inuit ancestry from Nunatsiavut, Labrador.

His artistic work is primarily painting and drawing. He currently teaches at Emily Carr University of Art + Design in Vancouver, BC. Painting

ABOVE

Composition 3: I Used to Go Clam Picking 2019 Etching with hand colouring 92.7 × 122.6 cm

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Front

CHOICE

Gilbert Hay Elangugaluak (Just a Part of It)

by Darryn Doull

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

CHOICE

OPPOSITE AND BELOW

Gilbert Hay (b. 1951 Nain) — Elangugaluak (Just a Part of It) 1994 Stone 21 × 18 × 21cm COURTESY THE ROOMS MEMORIAL UNIVERSITY OF NEWFOUNDLAND COLLECTION

In the early twentieth century in Canada, the Group of Seven took a radical approach to landscape painting that moved away from established European traditions of representation. They wanted to develop a uniquely national art that wed an idea of land and geography to the national identity of a country that was barely 50 years old.

On May 7, 1920, their first exhibition opened at the Art Gallery of Toronto in Ontario.

By now, their story is familiar to many. Their images typically depicted lands of a distant imaginary: places with no people (a terra nullius), environments with no economies, trees with no traditions. Turtle Island was their tabula rasa. Upon it, they sketched Western ideals of resilience, strength, physical and spiritual purity, and future promise for expansion, ownership and extraction. These ideals were quickly sutured onto personal nationalisms and adopted by a young country wrestling to find its own identity, and have continued to shape the way Canada imagines itself.

One hundred years later, I developed an exhibition for The Rooms in St John’s, NL, considering work produced by the Group on the East Coast of Canada and Eastern Arctic regions. Instead of championing their nationalist stories, Of Myths and Mountains looked to complicate predominant readings of the Group’s work by centring vital voices and ancestries from Nunatsiavut and Nunavik.

By orienting the exhibition around artists like Gilbert Hay, asinnajaq, Jessica Winters and Mark Igloliorte, the project sought to destabilize the Group’s colonial gaze and conceptually

reinscribe the lands emptied by their brushes.

Toward this end, Hay’s work was the very first object visitors encountered when entering the gallery.

My initial reaction to Hay’s work was as a buttress to the fallacy of the Group’s terra nullius. His 1994 sculpture, Elangugaluak (Just a Part of It), is an amorphous, undulating form.

As one moves around the sculpture, a number of human faces peer out from within. The faces are bordered by a scalloped pattern that oscillates between impressions of teeth marks, feathers and scales. The work articulates the inseparability of a people from their place.

Born in North West River, NL, in 1951 and growing up in Nain, Nunatsiavut, NL, Hay is a master carver and one of the pillars of the greater Labrador arts community. When I last spoke with him, Hay explained, “Making things with [my] hands was always with me.

I had no formal training in terms of making art, but at the same time, I’ve always been into it.”¹ Hay’s art is a translation of lived experience, survivance on the land and working hard to help raise a family. Reflecting on a prolific period starting in the late 1960s, Hay voices an uncommon complaint: “Although I can create a number of pieces in a week or so, I could not keep up with the number of people that were coming and inquiring about the potential of purchasing the work.”

There is a gravitational, mercurial energy to Hay’s work. His passion for and deep knowledge of stone is clear when speaking with him, and these intimate relations emanate out of his works with an unexpected pull.

In our conversation, Hay spoke of meteorites landing in Labrador and the effects of the intense heat and pressure on the terrain.

There is a spectral potential, astrological reach and geomorphic energy permeating his stories and these, in turn, embody the captivating qualities that he coaxes out of his materials.

In some areas the raw nature of the stone is readily appreciable. In others the figurative aspects of the work have a polish that amplifies the materials’ depth and tonality. “I wasn’t interested in getting my pieces to look like a piece of glass. I was interested in getting it to just the edge of, will there be colour,” Hay said. “It is so subtle that if you don’t look at this stuff carefully, you’re going to miss it.”

You cannot remove a people from the land when the land and the people are a part of each other. Emphasizing closeness, Hay told me, “as you pick up the stone, the action happens, and when the action happens, you can imagine the most perfect form of art you have ever seen… But it’s not that easy.” Hay’s work encourages closeness as the creases of lived experience inform each cut, chip and polish. As I deepened my relationship with the work, it propelled me to consider my own relations to (and responsibilities for) the land; it helped clarify my vision of the first paths and traces that were obscured and ignored by the Group’s nationalist gaze.

— Darryn Doull is a curator, writer and musician based in St. John’s, NL, and Toronto, ON. He is the Curator of Canadian Art at The Rooms.

NOTES 1

Quotes from Gilbert Hay from an interview conducted by the author in September 2020.

Painting

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Front

PROFILE

Logan Ruben

by Emily Henderson

How do you hold a place in your memory?

This question inspired artist Logan Ruben when he moved six years ago from his home community of Paulatuk, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, to Cranbrook, BC, where he currently resides with his family. Since then, he has continued to explore not only his evolving relationship to his homelands but also his relationship to colour. A self-taught painter and experimental sculptor, Ruben primarily focuses on the landscapes and vistas that he remembers fondly from home, all translated to wood and canvas through vivid colour palettes and brush strokes inspired Inuit Art Quarterly

by impressionist painters like Vincent van Gogh and calling to mind the work of contemporary Indigenous artists, including Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun.

“I’ve always been enamoured with colour,” he explains. “My work is as much an exploration of colour and texture as it is of memory. With my landscapes, I often think back to the feeling of very specific campsites and I begin to create from there.”

Working from his studio in the East Kootenays, Ruben creates paintings that are complete products of his own labour and imagination, from the very stretching of the 24

canvas, to the completion of the image.

He frequently constructs his own canvases, and his work comes to life in custom dimensions of his own design, with some of his panels reaching widths of up to 96 inches. One part art form, one part COVID-era adaptation to accessible painting supplies, Ruben is continually inventive with the frames on which he creates.

“Even Da Vinci had to build his own canvases sometimes,” he jokes.

On one such mammoth, a 96-inch canvas, he has painted an untitled vast expanse of Egg Island in the Northwest Territories, shown from an aerial view. Depicted in a hazy green and floating in the deep blue of the sea, his family’s encampment where he spent summers hunting and fishing is lovingly remembered along one of the shorelines.

While many of his paintings are soft and organic, others play with geometric lines and expressive colours not typically found in nature. He links the geometric worlds evoked in these paintings with a quilt of fragmented memories—some patches his own and some derived from family photos and pictures recently shared by friends online. His painting Untitled (Campsite) (2019) best exemplifies these explorations of communal memory. In it, a single view of a favourite campsite is brought to life on a diamondshaped canvas, refracted by vistas of the same locale observed in many different seasons, which play out through each section of the image. In the very centre, an ice floe adrift beneath the northern lights appears to take the form of an ulu, all of which suggest an assemblage of distinct, but shared, perspectives of place.

At once a way to cope with homesickness and to record stories about his homelands to pass on to his young family while living away from the land, Ruben also turns his eye to the lands he currently finds himself on, taking trips to paint the vistas of British Columbia.

Mountains rise out of colour-saturated landscapes, while tangled trees dance across handcrafted canvases. In one image, Untitled (Mountain Landscape) (2019), an impossible landscape is forged in brilliant pinks, reds and blues, with a river and skeleton of a tree cutting across the foreground and mint clouds billowing in the light of the full moon.

Winter 2020

PROFILE

OPPOSITE

Logan Ruben (b. 1995 Paulatuk) — Untitled (Portrait) 2019 Acrylic on canvas 58.4 × 43.2 cm ALL COURTESY THE ARTIST

RIGHT

Untitled (Mountain Landscape) 2019 Acrylic on canvas 121.9 × 60.9 cm

While the land represents Ruben’s preferred subject matter, his infatuation with colour and expressive style also translates well into portraiture. In one haunting portrait, Untitled (Portrait) (2019), a long, gaunt face gazes out from what could be the hood of a parka, eyes peering about suspiciously.

This figure appears to be listening to his environment attentively while wrapped in his garment, which appears almost translucent, exposing the bones of his ribcage in reds Painting

and purples that pop against the green of the background.

Ever evolving and uniquely his own creation from start to finish, Ruben’s work delights the senses and toys with primary colours. Branching out from his acrylic works, he has recently begun to explore sculpture crafted in pure, white clay. While his work continues to develop, the motivation behind his creative process remains constant.

“I would like to explore the many identities 25

amongst Inuit across the globe and try to find a common ground for us all to relate to,” he explains. “Whether it be our love for the land, the animals that sustain us, or the stories and traditions that have been passed down through generations of survival.”

— This Profile was made possible through support from the RBC Foundation’s Emerging Artists Project.

Front

THE CALL OF NORTHERN LANDSCAPES AND INDIGENOUS CULTURES

> Learn more about the exhibition at mbam.qc.ca PRESENTED BY

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An exhibition developed, organized and circulated by the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. | Noah Arpatuq Echalook (born in 1946), Woman Playing a String Game, 1987, dark green stone, ivory, hide, 26 x 39 x 24 cm. National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa, purchased in 1991. Photo NGC | Jean Paul Riopelle (1923-2002), L’esprit de la ficelle (triptych), 1971, acrylic on lithograph mounted on canvas, 160 x 360 cm. Private collection. Archives catalogue raisonné Jean Paul Riopelle. © Estate of Jean Paul Riopelle / SOCAN (2020)

Three new exhibitions in 2021 Bronson Jacque - UNCLE DOUG’S WHARF, oil on canvas, 16 x 20”, 2019 (detail)

By three new exciting artists Heather Campbell - SPRING RIDE, ink on mineral paper, 9 x 12”, 2020 (detail)

Bronson Jacque Heather Campbell Darcie Bernhardt Darcie Bernhardt - NUNGKI, oil on canvas, 60 x 66”, 2019 (detail)

www.feheleyfinearts.com

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gallery@feheleyfinearts.com

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65 George Street, Toronto

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416 323 1373

Megan Kyak–Monteith’s Painted Worlds

—

by Tarralik Duffy

PREVIOUS SPREAD

Megan Kyak-Monteith (b. 1997 Mittimatalik) — POV You Are The LEGO We Are Burying 2020 Oil 86.4 × 121.9 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

BELOW

Kids in Play Paradise 2018 Oil 103.6 × 152.4 cm COURTESY THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Painter and illustrator Megan Kyak-Monteith possesses a deep toolbox of techniques and perspectives which she uses to evoke scenes of everyday life in the Nunavut communities of her memory. Informing her Romantic scenes of whale hunts and still lifes of ulus carving country foods is an intimate narrative of cultural revival and pride that confronts, often directly, a colonial gaze.

In this Feature, a fellow artist and writer considers the promise of Kyak-Monteith’s career and her painterly interrogations into Inuit self-representation.

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Winter 2020

RIGHT

Playing In My Father’s Burning Lawn 2018 Oil 109.2 × 116.8 cm COURTESY THE ARTIST

In her work Playing In My Father’s Burning Lawn (2018), Megan Kyak-Monteith’s command of colour brings to life a simultaneously lovely and foreboding scene of a child tensely and tenderly clasping her hands together as she stands in front of a burning lawn. The style of her jacket is recognizably Inuk, but she is in a strange land.

Trees loom ominously in the dark behind her, silhouetted against a burning red sky, signalling that we aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Gone is the treeless landscape we once knew. It’s almost as though she is afraid to look behind her.

Though Kyak-Monteith’s work is deeply personal, her work chronicles the shared experiences of a generation of Inuit that has grown up playing hopscotch on gravelly roads, skipped stones along Arctic shorelines and come of age as they jumped ice floes and climbed roofs of houses that can feel as high as mountaintops. For those of us who have had to leave our communities and relocate to more urban areas, Kyak-Monteith vividly articulates a sense of reminiscence, longing and displacement that resonates with many of us. Born in 1997 and raised in Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet), NU— a small hamlet of 1,600 residents on the north coast of Baffin Island— Kyak-Monteith moved with her family to Nova Scotia when she was ten and has spent much of her life and her career in the South.

She graduated in 2019 from NSCAD University with a BFA in Interdisciplinary Arts and currently works and resides in Halifax, NS. Her work often revolves around retrospection and piecing together childhood memories in order to preserve them.

“After we moved to Nova Scotia, we didn’t really know how to deal with all the trees,” she tells me of Playing In My Father’s Burning Lawn.¹ “I think it was after the snow melts, there [would be] a bunch of dead grass and compressed leaves and so my dad usually just burned the lawn and we would jump the fire. Thinking back now, it seems kind of scary, and the painting maybe seems a bit sinister, but back then it was just a fun thing to do.” The image reads like more

Painting

of a nightmare than a dream to me, and it seems in stark contrast to the soft, dreamy hues that depict her memories of Nunavut. Even the somewhat morbid Shark Womp (2020) has a dreamlike playfulness that embodies what it is like growing up in the wild, wild North.

It is this move, this fateful migration away from home, coupled with the inevitable slippages of memory that happen with age, that drives Kyak-Monteith to document her recollections before they change shape or are lost forever. “In my experience, memories are constantly changing as I get older. Cataloging [them] in the form of painting solidifies it from that change,” she says.

With strict new travel measures in place to keep COVID-19 out of Nunavut, leaving many urban Inuit, like me, unable to visit our homeland, Kyak-Monteith’s work is more poignant and moving than ever. For viewers who have resided in the North, regardless of the community they are from, her work strikes a deeply nostalgic chord.

Looking over her paintings has often left me in tears, not only due to a homesickness exacerbated by the current state of the world, but because her paintings and animations are like portals into our collective memory. Her ability to capture and convey these moments, however, are not reserved for a singular audience.

Kyak-Monteith—whose star is burning bright and rising fast— seems to be on the precipice of a breakthrough moment. Recently, her show We Play The Same at Marion Scott Gallery in Vancouver, BC, sold out before the paintings were ever hung on the wall. With the intent of keeping the collection of paintings intact, one discerning private collector purchased the entire collection.

Gallery Associate Jeffrey Boone says of this remarkable and rare occurrence, “It is a testament to the importance of the body of work being greater than the sum of its parts. Kyak-Monteith created a multifaceted look at her own personal experience of the fluidity of identity as it entangles with the shared memories of her family members.

Her work resonates deeply with a broad spectrum [of people].”

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Matchbox Mountaintops

With every stroke of her brush Kyak-Monteith not only brilliantly catalogues her own lived experience but she boldly resurrects and reclaims the traditions of our ancestors in predominantly white spaces.

Inuit Art Quarterly

With her flair for classical compositions that call to mind the Dutch Golden Age, combined with luminous narrative depictions of northern life, it is no wonder that Kyak-Monteith’s work appeals to a wide audience of collectors and art enthusiasts—a mix of whom she welcomed last year to the opening of her show, Maktaaq, at Anna Leonowens Gallery in Halifax, NS, with a buffet of maktaaq and soy sauce.

The first time I remember seeing Megan Kyak-Monteith’s work was through a social media post shared by her great aunt, a well-known Inuk artist, designer and long-time family friend, Martha Kyak. The post proudly introduced her great-niece as a featured artist for an upcoming art battle, a live painting competition where painters create the best work they can in 20 minutes. The post from 2016, originally published by The Dalhousie University Club, features a striking self-portrait of a brooding young woman wearing an argyle sweater.

With thick brows, dark hair, bold bangs and a commanding gaze reminiscent of Frida Kahlo, she instantly stood out as an extraordinary and rare talent. It reminded me of the same visceral reaction I had seeing Jutai Toonoo’s (1959–2015) work for the first time, which obliterated my sense of what I thought I understood about Inuit art.

I can almost hear the children playing and the ambient sounds of Arctic life in her piece Kids in Play Paradise (2018): Hondas blaring, dogs howling, rocks hitting the sides of buildings, the soft crunching sound of gravel under slow moving truck tires, clouds of dust, an older lady scolding children in Inuktitut as they howl with rebellious laughter. In the work, a group of children stand tall on the tops of matchbox houses, one of them holding a stick as something in the far distance has captured their attention. The dusky blue sky signals an early or perhaps intensely late summer evening. It’s impossible to know the time exactly. Fuel tanks and satellites, hallmarks of modern community life, are as instantly recognizable as the wooden drying racks for sealskins stacked and gently leaning against the houses. This truly is paradise.

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Winter 2020

OPPOSITE

Shark Womp 2020 Oil 60.9 × 91.4 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

TOP

Self Portrait 2018 Oil 48.3 × 35.6 cm COURTESY THE ARTIST

MIDDLE

Self Portrait 2019 Oil 58.4 × 40.6 cm COURTESY THE ARTIST

BOTTOM

Self Portrait as a Grandmother 2020 Oil 50.2 × 40 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

When I call her up to chat about her work, she answers with gleeful excitement from her newly rented studio in Halifax. Her voice is deeper than I expected, but the intonation is instantly familiar.

It sounds like home to me. “I want to be like Mary Poppins and jump into your paintings,” I tell her and we both just laugh. KyakMonteith created the illustrations that accompanied The Language of Snow, a fictional story I wrote for Inuktitut magazine in 2019, so there was already a fondness between us. As we talk a bit about our childhoods and the progression of her artistry, the conversation eventually turns to her latest collection of paintings that formed We Play The Same .

“The recent work that I am doing is preserving memories of me and my little brother and my grandparents, and my great-grandmother who doesn’t speak English,” she says. Kyak-Monteith speaks with a bit of sadness that she can no longer speak her language, the language of her ancestors and of her great-grandmother Letia. “I am definitely trying to hold onto my memories,” she tells me. “The way I found to connect with her, other than language, is through action-based activities. Like puzzles or with food.”

Inuit have long communicated with each other without speaking, and eating together is a point of contact that transcends language.

It is something we all understand, beyond happy memories of hands stained and bloodied as we cut into seal and fish and ptarmigan.

Our stomachs and souls satiated with the delicious offerings of our land, eating together also fills us with the deeper realization that the food we eat and share is the reason we are still here.

In Letia, Her Hands (2020) and Where’s the HP Sauce (2020) the focus is on the beautifully aged, delicately feminine, able hands of her great-grandmother. For those unfamiliar with the reference, HP Sauce is a brown steak sauce originally produced in the United Kingdom. This bestselling condiment eventually made its way across the pond from British dinner tables to cardboard feasts across the

Painting

33

Matchbox Mountaintops

North. Most often paired with maktaaq or caribou, it has inadvertently become a beloved and iconic part of our own food culture. In the first painting Letia is busy piecing together a puzzle with short, clipped unadorned fingernails. In the second she is slicing up maktaaq with an ulu. Her long, bright-red painted nails nearly steal the scene.

It’s in these subtle yet bold details that Kyak-Monteith explores and expresses her interwoven identities. Brightly painted, pointed nails have become almost a signature in Kyak-Monteith’s work and are often cameoed in her social media posts. They are a character unto themselves.

Many of Kyak-Monteith’s pieces focus on harvesting and food sharing. The power and significance might be lost on some, but to understand it we do not have to look that far back. Up until the late 90s, Inuit were not allowed to harvest bowhead whales due to over harvesting by foreign whalers and for many years before that, Inuit were strongly discouraged from eating the foods that kept us alive and thriving for generations. Something as seemingly innocuous as sharing and partaking in traditional food could seem like a passing novelty— a fun, kind-of-exotic and daring foodie thing to do at an art opening.

But for Inuit, every morsel shared in the open is taking back space and erasing the shame wrongfully coerced upon our families. With every stroke of her brush Kyak-Monteith not only brilliantly catalogues her own lived experience but she boldly resurrects and reclaims the traditions of our ancestors in predominantly white spaces.

Before social media helped us to not only normalize but openly celebrate our traditional diet and delicacies, there was still a lot of suspicion directed toward Inuit wanting to document their culture and experience. It was something you simply did not do as it was a potential source of contention and shame. I remember so vividly how my own anaanatsiaq would admonish me to warn her before coming to her house with a white person or non-Inuk as she did not want to be caught off guard while eating or preparing traditional

Inuit Art Quarterly

34

Winter 2020

food or working on skins. In her animation Large Feast on a Bed of Cardboard (Maktaaq) (2019), which runs just under a minute, we take part in the most joyous act shared among Inuit: gathering around the cardboard to share “soul food,” or country food, with one another.

Once again, the brightly painted red fingernails dance around the screen as skillful hands slice up pieces of the traditional Inuit meal of whale skin and blubber. A second person’s hands enter the scene and pour VH brand soy sauce, another beloved condiment we often pair with frozen caribou or char. These are living memories: flashbacks in rapidly moving oil paint, jumping, moving and shifting like a dream we cannot hold onto.

Much like the greats before her, self-portraiture is a significant part of Kyak-Monteith’s practice; she paints one every summer.

From the young girl with dark, brooding eyes in an argyle sweater, to a sultry young woman pictured in front of a simple backdrop, with smooth porcelain skin, pouty lips and blonde hair cascading from dark roots “with the puffiest sleeves,” we are witness to her physical transformations as much as the evolution of her talent. Her latest painting immortalizes herself dressed as a grandmother, complete with granny scarf and the signature giant glasses we all came to associate with our northern grandmothers in the 70s and 80s.

Kyak-Monteith once again commands our gaze with her playful reimagining of herself as a ningiuq. Mixing elements of Romanticism and Realism, she brings the eye of a master painter, evoking a timelessness that defies her youth. Her decision to juxtapose herself as a grandmother in youthful form encourages the viewer to question the relationship between past and present, how one cannot exist without the other. Her supple face emotes a youthful bravado while sagacious and soulful eyes steadily watch from behind amber lenses. Leaning back with a cool confidence and a knowing mischief only Elders possess, it’s as though she’s telling us she’s already been here for a very long time.

OPPOSITE (ABOVE)

Whale Hunt: I Think Everyone Is Here (stills) 2019 Video 46 sec COURTESY THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (BELOW)

Whale Hunt: I Think Everyone Is Here 2018 Oil 152.4 × 226.1 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

ABOVE

Letia, Her Hands 2020 Oil 12.7 × 17.8 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

NOTES 1

Quotes from Megan Kyak-Monteith from interview conducted by the author in August, 2020.

Painting

35

Matchbox Mountaintops

State of the Art A conversation with Darcie Bernhardt, Heather Campbell, Bronson Jacque and Aija Komangapik

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Though painting is not historically a medium widely explored by Inuit artists, an explosion of colour is emanating from the Arctic as a new generation of artists picks up their brushes. In this interview, the IAQ convened a trailblazing Inuk painter with three emerging artists to explore their craft, the challenges they face, and how their works reimagine and reinterpret the long history of the medium.

HEATHER CAMPBELL: When I meet new people, I always think of the older people back home and the questions they would ask when we were introduced: “Who do you belong to? Who are your people?” So, to start.

I’m from Rigolet, Nunatsiavut, NL. I attended university in Corner Brook, NL, at Grenfell College School of Fine Arts and moved to Ottawa, ON, in 1997. When I went to art school in ’92, as far as I know, I was the only Inuk painter there and perhaps even across Canada.

DARCIE BERNHARDT: I’m a recent grad from NSCAD University where I earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts with a focus in painting. I didn’t really explore painting until I was about 19 in my first year at Yukon College, before NSCAD University.

AIJA KOMANGAPIK: I attend Bishop’s University in Sherbrooke, QC, [where] I’m studying Arts Administration. I’m most passionate about digital art, but have been exploring painting and was recently commissioned to do a mural for Tungasuvvingat Inuit.

BRONSON JACQUE: I’m from Postville, Nunatsiavut, NL. I recently moved to Halifax, NS, [to attend] NSCAD University. I’ve been creating art since I can remember, but taking it seriously for the past ten years.

HC: Like all of you, I’ve been experimenting with art from an early age. I played around with watercolor sets when I was a kid, but didn’t paint seriously until art school. Back then, I was doing oil painting more than the ink watercolor I do now.

What inspired all of you to take up painting over other mediums?

What’s your particular painting style and how did it evolve?

BJ: I have an uncle [Jason Jacque] who is a very talented artist.

I tried to be like him, starting by drawing portraits. My family encouraged me, telling me I should go to art school.

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

OPPOSITE

Darcie Bernhardt (b. 1993 Tuktuyaaqtuuq) — Nanuk and Nanogak 2018 Oil 121.9 × 152.4 cm ALL COURTESY THE ARTISTS

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Heather Campbell (b. 1973 Rigolet) — Seal Hunting Time 2020 Ink 35.6 × 27.9 cm

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State of the Art

LEFT

Bronson Jacque (b. 1995 Postville) — The Trapper 2017 Acrylic 91.4 × 60.9 cm

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I was encouraged to draw at first because it’s inexpensive to get supplies in the North. Painting isn’t really suggested because canvases are large and expensive to ship. Even in school we painted on cardstock and paper. I never painted seriously until I moved to Newfoundland.

Everything was accessible there, and I was able to experiment a bit more.

I’ve always leaned towards realism in my work because I want to capture the things around me. If I have a relative and I really admire them, I want to put them on a canvas, with my own little spin. Not the same as a photograph—I try to put a bit of their personality into it.

DB: I always go back to drawing with graphite, particularly if I get stuck. The market very much influenced the materials I had, because that’s all I had.

AK: I think the medium you choose is more based on where you are geographically and what you have access to. Right now, it’s acrylics for me.

HC: It makes me wonder how many others would start painting if they had the access each of us ultimately did. How do you think art school or university has shaped what you do now?

AK: My love of comic book illustrations initially inspired my style.

I liked certain series like Hellboy and thought, “Wow, these are so colourful.” I think that’s reflected in my style, which is very fluid and colourful, with a lot of movement. I started with digital painting, and when I got to school in my twenties and got a little bit more funding, I was able to start painting and realized it was fun.

BJ: Art school has definitely helped me take thoughts and put them down in a cohesive way. Education really unlocks a new language of expression.

DB: Art school has given me resources and tools to really further my ideas. It helped me find new ways of storytelling in new mediums.

DB: I was in pretty much the same situation. Oil painting supplies or acrylics, all the brushes and paints, they add up over time. I thought all I would ever do was draw. It wasn’t until I was in school for a while that I realized I wanted to expand on my artistic practice and see what realms I could explore.

When I was younger I was obsessed with colour, really bright colours, like aqpiks, and I still carry that through with my paintings now. In my practice, I use portraits as decolonial memory preservation.

These are scenes that I remember, and I use colour to interrogate my memory of them.

HC: When I left art school, I felt like I was unlearning and learning at the same time. I was able to take my knowledge of the materials and start to question myself. How can my Inuk-ness colour what I learned in art school? Are there things I can shape and morph and make my own? So, I ended up spending ten years playing with materials, trying to find that combination that really worked for me. The more that I learned about Inuit art—through the Inuit Art Foundation—I was able to see patterns and elements that existed in my own work that I didn’t realize were an Inuit influence at all.

Is there, or was there, any Indigenous art history taught at your schools?

HC: Thinking about how the market often influences what media Inuit choose, did the art market consciously influence your choice to pursue painting?

DB: When I went to NSCAD, it was very Eurocentric. Nineteenthand twentieth-century courses are a requirement, and Indigenous art should be as well. You have to really fight and advocate for those courses. I would love to see more representation in classrooms. Our art histories are important.

BJ: Partially. I started oil painting because it was worth a bit more.

You can sell a painting for more than a graphite drawing. But I mainly switched because it’s so fun to use oil paint.

Inuit Art Quarterly

40

Winter 2020

RIGHT

Aija Komangapik (b. 1998 Iqaluit) — Nuliajuk 2020 Acrylic 29.5 × 39.5 cm

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Darcie Bernhardt — Nanuk’s Kamiks 2018 Oil 182.9 × 121.9 cm

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State of the Art

When I left art school, I felt like I was unlearning and learning at the same time. I was able to take my knowledge of the materials and start to question myself. How can my Inuk-ness colour what I learned in art school?

BJ: There are, I think, 13 Indigenous art history courses at [NSCAD now], but I don’t think there’s a specific Inuit art course.

AK: I don’t know if there are any specifically Inuit [courses] at our school. There’s a lot of white European people from the 1500s. I wish that they put “Western art” [in the course description] because I thought we were going to be covering not just Indigenous, but African or East Indian or Asian art, too.

HC:

Are there other artists who have influenced you over the years?

BJ: Early on, I was influenced by Western art, because that was pretty much all I’d see online. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen the importance of people in our communities making art. Now I really am influenced by people I know, people who make Inuit art and people in remote communities. When I was younger, I was into the flashy things. But now that I’ve matured a little—I hope—I value art differently.

, .

HC: I think this also speaks to how important the Inuit Art Quarterly is. Up until I came to Ottawa, it was the only exposure I had to Inuit art from other regions.

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AK: When I was really young, my influence was my ataata [Ruben Komangapik], and my uncle, Mattiusi [Iyaituk], who are both artists.

Kenojuak Ashevak, too, who you’ll see in every Inuk home. As I get older, it’s random artists that I really find interesting—a lot of comic book artists.

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DB: Because my mom [Donna Wolki] is a seamstress, I was surrounded by artists growing up. It felt like all these aunties and nanuks were just hanging out, having tea, but those moments influenced me a lot.

When I was younger and thought of art, I thought of artists like Annie Pootoogook. The scenes she drew are scenes I would see, with their colour and their humour. My elder was Agnes Nanogak, and she was a printmaker, illustrator and she used to draw, but I only learned about her practice later in school.

RIGHT

Heather Campbell — Monolith 2020 Ink 30.5 × 22.9 cm

— 2020 30.5 × 22.9 OPPOSITE

Darcie Bernhardt — Nungki 2019 Oil 152.4 × 167.6 cm

— 2019 152.4 × 167.6

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

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State of the Art

HC: I think it’s easy for us to take for granted the people that are always around us. My grandfather used to carve little wooden animals, and I remember seeing them around the house and not really thinking much of it. I really wish I could find one of them now that he’s passed on.

Have you come across any obstacles while building a career in painting?

BJ: When people think of Inuit art, it’s usually prints and carvings.

While you can do so much with carving, it’s limited by its physical properties. With painting, you can express more abstract ideas.

AK: Here’s what I like about painting: Inuit sculpture is beautiful, using interesting shapes and made with a lot of technical skill, but in terms of colour it’s very contrast heavy—stone on bone, black, white, dark green stone. When I started looking into other visual artists and other cultures asking “What else can art be?”, I saw there’s an entire catalogue of colours that you can use.

HC: Have you gotten resistance from anyone? Has anyone challenged the authenticity of your artwork—or even you?

BJ: People tend to think of authentic Inuit art as carving and prints, and they can be kind of resistant to newer art media. That might influence my leaning towards realism. It’s a safer bet. Now that I feel I have a bit more creative freedom, I think my Inuk-ness will show through in my art a bit more.

HC: When I first moved to Ottawa, I visited a gallery and showed them my portfolio and no one gave me the time of day. There’s a lot of barriers that you have to break down, especially when it comes to being more white-passing and working in a medium that isn’t recognized as “Inuit art”.

BJ: I had a similar experience in St. John’s. Galleries turned me away, saying winter scenes don’t sell. The only painting they considered depicted fishermen on a dock—a normal Newfoundland-looking scene. One of the gallerists said that if this piece sold, it’s because I’m Indigenous. I was so offended. If my art sells, I want it to be because it’s good, not because of who I am.

AK: With Inuit art, I don’t initially think of painting. I have seen some good paintings by Inuit artists, but like you’ve said, it’s very much printmaking and statues. My oma told me [Inuit artists] were sent pamphlets suggesting subjects they should carve and sell. At one point, [the government] suggested basket weaving, and she said, “Baskets?

We don’t weave baskets!” Another just read, “polar bear,” and now the market’s saturated with them. A lot of it is just based on what people think they want. It restricts what we can do.

ABOVE

Bronson Jacque — Lost 2016 Acrylic 40.6 × 50.8 cm (each)

HC: My work as a researcher at Library and Archives Canada gave me the opportunity to go through the Canadian Eskimo Arts Council (CEAC) collection. I read everything about how they marketed Inuit art in the 50s and 60s. The CEAC helped create a mystique of the primitive. They loved things that were simplistic, direct and rough. With a medium like drawing or painting where you have the ability to render things quite realistically, it completely goes against the primitive aesthetic they marketed for decades. It’s a real thing we’re all fighting against.

— 2016 40.6 × 50.8

(

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OPPOSITE

Aija Komangapik — Figures in the Northern Lights 2020 Acrylic and marker 35 × 28 cm (each)

DB: The obstacle I face is that there’s not many Inuit painters. There’s not that representation. As artists, especially Inuit artists, we have a complicated history with art. As painters, we need to have these conversations that confront what is instilled in Canadian art history about who we are, where we’re from, what our story is.

It’s important that we’re given representation of where we’re from. One of the things I think about a lot is that I’m just telling my perspective in my work. Just my side—one little slice of the Arctic.

There should be more. The reality is that we just have to keep having this conversation for that to happen.

— 2020 35 × 28

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Inuit Art Quarterly

This interview has been edited for clarity and condensed.

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44

Winter 2020

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State of the Art

5 Inuit Muralists Bring Colour to the North —

by Napatsi Folger

From the Chauvet Cave of Southern France to the internationally renowned art of Banksy, humans have been creating murals for over 30,000 years. In this Portfolio we celebrate the colourful murals of five Inuit artists across Canada.

Murals are powerful tools of community inclusion and representation. Like the Chicano Art Movement and the American Civil Rights community mural projects of the 1960s, the murals in this Portfolio function as a form of accessible public media that showcase their emittable cultural strength. These pan-regional artists have incorporated strong themes of Inuit culture from nalukataq, the traditional Inuvialuit blanket toss, to the bright skyline of Arviat, NU. In landscapes swallowed by white snow for most of the year, these paintings bring images of brilliant colour for everyone to enjoy. Both culture and landscape move these artists to create their large-scale public art.

And like the feast that culminates a successful hunt, these murals bring communities together. The artists who painted in their home communities tell stories of the children who watched them painting day after day, asking questions with the unapologetic curiosity that I associate with the tuutchi-faced Inuit kids of my own youth. These interactions highlight the significance of murals for small towns and villages as well as cities: they are public expressions of creativity where people of all ages can interact with artists while they work and be inspired to express their own artistry.

Inuit Art Quarterly

48

PREVIOUS SPREAD

Jessica Winters (b. 1996 Makkovik) — Untitled (detail) 2020 Acrylic and varnish — Frank’s General Store 10-20 Middle Drive, Makkovik, Nunatsiavut, NL COURTESY THE ARTIST

BELOW

Crowd performs Inuvialuit blanket toss at satellite unveiling COURTESY NATURAL RESOURCES CANADA

Winter 2020

1

Sheree McLeod Inuvik Satellite Station Facility 2018 —

ABOVE

Sheree McLeod (b. 1990 Inuvik) — Untitled 2018 Vinyl — Inuvik Satellite Station Facility, Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT COURTESY NATURAL RESOURCES CANADA

Painting

Artist Sheree McLeod was selected to design the unusual canvas of a satellite dish as part of the Inuvik satellite mural project, initiated

by Natural Resources Canada in 2017.

Proposed as a Canada 150 initiative, the project aimed to reflect the Government of Canada’s commitment to reconciliation. Organizers commissioned murals by artists to represent the three main Indigenous groups who inhabit the Inuvik area, which include the Inuvialuit, Gwitchin First Nation and the Métis. McLeod’s design was selected by the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation to represent the region’s Inuvialuit denizens.

McLeod’s design depicts a traditional blanket toss scene with the seer thrown high, scanning the horizon and the pullers colourfully clad in bright parkas holding a sewn hide blanket taught.

“The blanket toss brings people together.

It’s a community event,” explains McLeod, who compares the utility of the satellite and the blanket toss, citing both as tools of surveying that allow us to see beyond the limits of our usual vantages, whether it be scanning for

49

game or downlinking Earth observation data.

The satellites posed unusual obstacles for the technicians, who had to perform the work of installing the mural on the satellite within small windows of time while the antennas were between receiving signals. Adding to the challenge, work on the murals could only occur when the temperature was above 10ºC and when conditions were dry, otherwise the artwork would not adhere properly.

The colourful blanket toss depicted in this mural was unveiled and celebrated with a live blanket toss, performed by members of the audience, complete with pullers and a man scanning the horizon as he was thrust into the air. As the artist had initially only seen pictures of the satellites, seeing the complete work on such a large scale took McLeod by surprise. She can be heard saying in a YouTube video about the project shared by the Inuvialuit Communication Society: “I didn’t expect it to be that huge—I didn’t know this was that big.” One might liken the feeling to spotting big game on the horizon; a polar bear is much bigger, when viewed up close.

Saniraq

2 Charlotte Karetak Arviat Hamlet Office 2018 —

ABOVE

Charlotte Karetak (b. 1995 Arviat) — Untitled 2018 Latex — Arviat Hamlet Office, Arviat, NU COURTESY THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Though only in her college foundation, Charlotte Karetak has already painted six murals in communities across Nunavut, including at the Meadowbank Gold Mine site, outside of Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, and in her home community of Arviat, NU. The murals she paints are inspired by her life in Arviat, ranging from bright summer skies of pinks, blues and oranges, to the icy whites and blues of a winter landscape blanketed in snow.

Karetak attributes her creativity to her anaanatsiaq, Rhoda Akpaliapik Karetak, who received a Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal in 2012 from the Office of the Governor General for her drawing, painting, mixed media and sewing skills, and her anaana, Susan Karetak, who is a skilled seamstress and craftsperson. Like Rhoda’s signature flowers or Susan’s caribou antler mobiles, Charlotte Karetak gleans inspiration from the land around her and paints with vivid imagery and colours

50

to render the sky in Arviat, which is a very flat area of tundra. As the artist notes, “You can basically see the sky all the way around you and there’s so many different colours during summer time. I think that’s what makes me want to paint colourful and bright skies.”

If you’ve ever seen the incandescent scenes of Arctic skylines in person, it’s easy to understand the appeal of such imagery for large-scale art such as murals and Karetak’s colour palette blends beautifully with the orange background wall, contrasting nicely with the grays of the inuksuit in the foreground.

Though she worked independently on the featured mural installed in the Arviat Hamlet Office, Karetak finds the ability to engage with youth on community creative projects the most appealing aspect of mural art. She first delved into mural painting in her own youth, and is excited to share that knowledge and experience with younger generations in the future.

Winter 2020

Between Spring 2018 and Spring 2020, Winnipegers walking along Memorial Boulevard and St. Mary Avenue were dazzled by the unexpected sight of an Arctic underwater scene, spanning the length of the pedestrian walkway and signalling the future home of Qaumajuq, the Inuit art centre at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG) in Manitoba. Emerging artist Kailey Sheppard has spent most of her life in Winnipeg, where she saw the Insurgence/ Resurgence (2017-18) exhibition at the gallery and was inspired to reach out to staff in the hopes that she could participate in any Inuit arts initiatives available. Having spent only a few years in her father’s community of Postville, Nunatsiavut, NL, the artist commented that, “it was the first time I’d really seen Inuit art being represented.” Sheppard wanted to be a part of it.

During the planning of the new centre, Sheppard was commissioned to produce a temporary mural on the boardwalk abutting the Qaumajuq site. For the piece, Sheppard sought to depict important cultural imagery and themes while maintaining her distinctive artistic style that favours bold lines and colours.

Here we see the cool tones and colour blocking that create a gorgeous sense of movement and flow, complete with seals and other sea creatures that are so essential to Inuit culture. For the artist, the feedback from the local Inuit community upon the completion of her mural was paramount in her feeling more connected with other Inuit and consequently linked to her roots in a larger urban centre. Sheppard admitted that, “there was a time where I felt like I was the only one.” But after working on the mural and visiting the Manitoba Inuit Association she realized, “there’s more of us in the city than I originally thought.” Many urban Inuit experience that kind of cultural isolation in cities, and mural art showing our culture can bring a sense of home and togetherness that is sometimes sorely needed.

Kailey Sheppard Qaumajuq Boardwalk 2018 —

BELOW

Kailey Sheppard (b. 1997 Winnipeg) — Mosaic Sea 2018 Latex on board — 125 Sherbrook Street, Winnipeg, MB COURTESY THE ARTIST PHOTO EMILY CHRISTIE

3 Painting

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Saniraq

4

Jessica Winters is a Nunatsiavummiut painter, curator and environmental scientist who had been planning to produce a mural project in her hometown of Makkovik, Nunatsiavut, NL, for over a year. Drawing inspiration from the murals she had seen across the circumpolar world, particularly in Greenland, Winters was eager to display the artistic talents of her own region.

After discussing her idea with a friend, Winters applied for funding from the Nunatsiavut Department of Education and Economic Development to support the project—the first large-scale mural in the Nunatsiavut region.

Upon receiving approval, Winters put out a call for youth applicants to join her to “show off [their] talents and beautify [their] community.” Her team included four local youth who worked with her over two months to design and paint the mural. Like other mural projects in this Portfolio, the team chose to work with an environmental theme featuring an ocean scene with a bowhead whale and other marine mammals important to Inuit as food, clothing and lamp oil.

An added benefit of the mural work was the amusement the team felt with the reactions of the community, particularly with daily questions from local kids watching them prime and apply the design. It drew out parents and youth hoping to get involved in future projects. “I’m super proud and I hope that it inspires people a little bit, and that it makes them feel happy when they see the mural,” Winters said. Public murals have the power to create pride among community members, and Winters was particularly happy to share the talent of Makkovik’s young, burgeoning artists with their town.

Jessica Winters Frank’s General Store 2020 —

BELOW

OPPOSITE

Jessica Winters — Untitled 2020 Acrylic and varnish — Frank’s General Store 10-20 Middle Drive, Makkovik, Nunatsiavut, NL

Niap (b. 1986 Kuujjuaq) — Ilagiiluta 2017 Latex and chalkboard paint — Ungava Tulattivik Health Centre, Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC

COURTESY THE ARTIST

COURTESY THE ARTIST

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Niap Ungava Tulattivik Health Centre 2017 — Born in Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, artist Niap is an accomplished painter and seasoned muralist. Currently based out of Montreal, QC, Niap has painted murals throughout Nunavik and in cities across Southern Canada including Ottawa, ON, where she produced an interior mural for the Museum of Nature’s Canada Goose Arctic Gallery, Ilurqusivut (Our Ways) in 2017. The work produces an anamorphorsis effect—an optical illusion that makes a twodimensional work appear three-dimensional and features colourful, geometric shapes and graphics overlaid with narrative imagery. Now well established, Niap’s early forays into art making, including detailed line drawings and expressive watercolours, were largely shared with friends and family over social media.

Commissions, exhibition opportunities and other accolades soon followed.

Ilagiiluta (2017) however, was the artist’s first foray into mural art. Never one to say no to working in a new medium, Niap noted that she was working on a very steep learning curve for this project. She recalled with amusement that mixing enough colour to ensure the whole mural matched and covered an entire room was quite a lesson. Painted

Painting

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5 with interior latex house paint and chalkboard paint, the mural became a canvas for the children visiting the Kuujjuaq health centre, who were encouraged to add their own art onto the wall.

Incorporating the fine detail of tuniit, kakiniit and beaded flowers—highly skilled and time-consuming practices in themselves— Niap’s painted forms are often as intensive as the art forms they depict. When asked what she liked most about mural work, Niap recalled the inspiration and liveliness that she experienced when working with local youth to paint a mural in their school. The enthusiasm and openness of the students touched her in a way that differed from working alone: “It was fun to see kids doing something different and experimenting with a new form of expression. It was really beautiful to see what the youth came up with. As much as there are hardships in the North, there was a lot of hope and positivity that came out of the work from the students.”

Niap was encouraged to see the self-expression of students who were normally withdrawn or shy, with the project igniting a sense of community where other art forms fall short.

Saniraq

—

by Anik Glaude

A SPECK OF SNOW FALLING

There [are] a lot of paintings of the North, but it’s time for Inuit to paint their own land.

—Niap

ON AN ARCTIC LANDSCAPE

For hundreds of years, the Arctic has captivated the imaginations of outsiders—including artists from across Canada, many of whom returned again and again to depictions of tundras and icebergs. But how do these foreign legacies of picturing the Arctic engage with a more local view? Here, a curator considers how new works reveal the Arctic from its true vantage—as home.

PREVIOUS SPREAD

Niap (b. 1986 Kuujjuaq) — Composition 2020 Watercolour 48.3 × 75.6 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

BELOW

Frederick Horsman Varley (1881–1969) — Arctic Sketch II 1938 Watercolour and graphite 22.2 × 30.2 cm COURTESY VARLEY ART GALLERY OF MARKHAM

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In Frederick Varley’s Arctic Sketch II (1938), a green band of colour divides the pale brown stretch of land below and the rising blue-tinged mountain above. Cutting the land almost in two, this shard of water brings life to an otherwise empty coastline. A group of wispy clouds envelop the top half of the painting, and from these, gently falling snow emanates and falls to the ground. The small, white blotches that dot the surface of the watercolour are not effects created by a paint brush, but rather by snowflakes falling on the surface of the paper. In 1938, Varley embarked on a 10,506-mile voyage to the Arctic from Montreal, QC. This two-and-a-half-month journey would see him visit numerous places throughout the North, including Nunatsiavut, Nunavik and Nunavut, as well as Greenland. Inspired in equal measure by the breathtaking landscape of the Arctic and the traditional Inuit ways of life, Varley produced several works over the course of his trip, including drawings, watercolours and oil sketches, many of which were painted en plein air, like Arctic Sketch II. Painting the Arctic landscape has long fascinated artists from Southern Canada and their paintings have, for the most part, influenced the public’s visual imagination of the North. For more than one hundred years, artists have trekked north, first by boat and now by plane, to reach this isolated region. On paper and canvas, they have recorded their impressions of the land, its geography and its peoples, and producing, among other subjects, luminous paintings of floating icebergs, piercing views of tundra and intimate portraits of Inuit in traditional dress. None of these depictions are more emblematic than those by members of the Group of Seven,¹ namely A. Y. Jackson, Lawren Harris and Frederick Varley.² Having produced some of Canada’s most iconic landscape paintings of the early twentieth century, the Group of Seven aimed to create a vision of and for Canada based on its vast natural environment. Their paintings of windswept pine trees on rocky outcrops, boreal forests with changing autumn leaves and the play of light on the calm waters of Georgian Bay are but a few examples of the works they painted.

It is understandable, then, that their attention would eventually turn to the North in search of new painting vistas. As Jackson stated before his first voyage, “there is a country to the north of us which

ABOVE

Niap — Composition 2020 Watercolour 48.3 × 75.6 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Painting

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A Speck of Snow Falling on An Arctic Landscape

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

is unique and distinctly Canadian. Let our artists turn explorers; let them go up into this territory and interpret it for Canadians.”³ They weren’t the first, and certainly not the last, but their travels inspired future generations of artists to follow in their footsteps. Consequently, the depiction of the Arctic in paint has, up until now, been mostly from an outsider’s perspective. For reasons explained elsewhere in this issue, including the lack of access to materials, Inuit artists living in the North have not featured prominently within the legacy of painting in the Arctic and their ability to interpret their own lands in paint has been limited.

As the curator of the Varley Art Gallery of Markham, whose collection contains several of Varley’s Arctic landscapes, I’ve long considered these pieces, their artistic qualities and historical significance, but also more recently, their problematic nature. I agree with fellow curator and art historian Emily Falvey when she suggests that, “when addressing the work of the Group of Seven in a contemporary context, one must be prepared to be critical of its role in bolstering modern Canadian nationalism, colonialism, and industry.”4 This is especially true of the Group’s Arctic paintings, as issues of sovereignty, displacement and representation are also at play here. As such, for the past few years I’ve aimed to reconcile the ways in which Varley’s works of this period are thought of, displayed and interpreted. One way to recontextualize this historical work is to engage with Inuit artists, to centre their work within this complex history and consider the ways paint can disrupt this outsider narrative.

In a recent phone conversation, Niap (Nancy Saunders), a multimedia artist from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, based in Montreal, QC, explains that there is a disconnect between artists from elsewhere painting northern landscapes, and that their depiction of the land can often be too simplistic, too superficial. “There [are] a lot of paintings of the North,” she states, “and it’s time for Inuit to paint their own land.”5 Fortunately, a new generation of Inuit artists, Niap included, are exploring the medium anew.

In River Series (2020), Niap uses watercolour to create soft, yet vibrant abstracted landscapes. Pigment is added to an already watered paper, blending into and out of each other. Horizon lines form at the centre, where the colour is denser and extend to both sides of the paper, almost as a never-ending continuum. From the centre, rich blues, purples and yellows extend outward and contrast the white of the paper beneath. On top of these are hand-drawn elements, small triangles, dots and lines, like a flock of birds or tattoo markings floating on the surface. When we discuss the representation of land in her work,

Niap explains that it’s not the land that’s important here, but the water.

The artist uses water from her community, as well as other sites, to mix the paints, a deeply personal act that helps the artist to connect back to her home. When talking about gathering the water, she mentions a fishing trip with her brothers and how she’s asked friends and family to send her water from various locations in the North to continue the series. Water, she adds, bears witness to where it’s been and also where it is going. It allows us to connect with a particular moment in time, when the water was collected, but also to a much older time as it carries within it ancient minerals—remnants of the earth itself.

During his own voyage, Varley must have collected and used water from the various locations he visited when painting. Did he, like Niap, notice a difference in the vibrancy it produced when mixed with paint?

Would the water from Kimmirut, NU, be different from that of Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet), NU? To consider the landscape not only as simple topography, but also within the dichotomy of time and place, is an interesting venture. As an important conceptual grounding in Niap’s work, do they also resonate in Varley’s? At first glance, maybe not. However it is interesting to consider that remnants of 82-year-old Arctic snow, however microscopic, might lie on the surface of Arctic Sketch II, contributing to its making. Place, including time and space, is crucial to both artists’ works, but only fully and intentionally embraced by Niap who, not coincidentally, carries her lived experience of the land into her practice. This subtle but critical shift underscores what is missed when non-Inuit visions of the Arctic are centred, and how much work is left to be done to fully integrate Inuit perspectives into a broader history of Arctic landscape painting.

NOTES 1

2

3

4

5

The founding members include Franklin Carmichael (1890–1945), Lawren Harris (1885–1970), A. Y. Jackson (1882–1974), Frank Johnston (1888–1949), Arthur Lismer (1885–1969), J. E. H. MacDonald (1873–1932) and Frederick Varley (1881–1969). Later members would include A. J. Casson (1898–1992), Edwin Holgate (1892–1977) and L. L. FitzGerald (1890–1956).

Jackson would make the trip three times (1927, 1930 and 1965), while Lawren Harris (1930 with Jackson) and Varley (1938) went one time each.

A. Y. Jackson, “Artist-Explorer,” Canadian Bookman 9.6 (July 1927): 216, quoted in Jeremy Adamson, Lawren S. Harris. Urban Scenes and Wilderness Landscapes 1906-1930, (Toronto: Art Gallery of Ontario, 1978), 89.

Emily Falvey, Hot Mush and the Cold North : Bouillie chaude et Grand Nord (Ottawa: Ottawa Art Gallery, 2005), 125.

Phone interview with the artist conducted by the author, October 2020.

OPPOSITE (ABOVE)

Frederick Horsman Varley — Arctic Sketch I 1938 Watercolour 22.2 × 30.2 cm COURTESY VARLEY ART GALLERY OF MARKHAM

OPPOSITE (BELOW)

Niap — Composition 2020 Watercolour 27.9 × 45.1 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

RIGHT

Niap — Composition 2020 Watercolour 23.5 × 28.6 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Painting

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A Speck of Snow Falling on An Arctic Landscape

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CURATORIAL NOTES

Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami ONGOING OTTAWA, ON

by Jocelyn Piirainen

By displaying artwork made by Inuit, ITK hoped to offer familiarity, even comfort, to their staff, stakeholders and visitors.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Picture a typical office environment: subdued hues of white, beige or grey. That soft humming of the overhead fluorescent tube lighting.

Cubicle after cubicle, in long corridors, with low ceiling heights. Not an ideal space for organizing an exhibition, but when life gives you lemons you make lemonade, as the saying goes. The offices of Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK) in Ottawa, ON, are no exception when it comes to office space design—however, the organization devoted to furthering Inuit political and social interests planned to improve the space itself by updating the artwork on their walls, strengthening a sense of their identity and mission. By displaying artwork made by Inuit, ITK hoped to offer familiarity, even comfort, to their staff, stakeholders and visitors.

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Founded officially in February 1971, Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami is a non-profit organization representing Canadian Inuit from across the varying regions. For five decades, they have been the main lobbyists for Inuit voices within various levels of the Canadian government.

To celebrate their various achievements since their beginning, I was given the opportunity to work with their small fine arts collection, and combine it with loans from the very large public collection of the Indigenous Art Centre (IAC)—a department under CrownIndigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada—to develop two exhibitions that reflect Inuit excellence and cultural sovereignty through art. As I’ve hinted, choosing the works was a challenge as I felt I needed to Winter 2020

CURATORIAL NOTES

OPPOSITE

Chris P. Sampson (b. 1978 Happy ValleyGoose Bay) — Untitled, Kuujjuaq 2008 Digital photograph 66.5 × 92 cm COURTESY INDIGENOUS ART COLLECTION, CROWN-INDIGENOUS RELATIONS AND NORTHERN AFFAIRS CANADA

BELOW

Kenojuak Ashevak (1927–2013 Kinngait) — Nunavut—Our Land 1992 Lithograph 230 × 370.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © KENOJUAK ASHEVAK

Painting

find a balance between works that would represent Inuit while giving a sense that Inuit art is a diverse discipline.

Curating for an unconventional space meant that in a pragmatic sense, I had to think outside the box—while still being in a box, so to speak. Placement of two dimensional works such as prints and drawings was challenging, as I learned. I had to take into consideration the height of office chairs in order to protect the art from being accidentally bumped into. Three-dimensional works, such as sculptures, baskets or dolls required protective casings and the pieces themselves had to be quite stable so as not to tip over. These may seem like common-sense risks to anticipate, but they can often be overlooked when planning an exhibition in unusual circumstances.

As difficult as it was, my favourite part of curating is choosing the pieces. For this project, I searched for works that would showcase the strength of Inuit cultural identity, while trying to give a sense of ITK’s mandate and mission. One of the key pieces to this exhibition is a 1992 lithograph Nunavut—Our Land by Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, RCA (1927– 2013), which was created to commemorate the signing of the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement. Ashevak seamlessly outlines the

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six seasons in the Canadian Arctic in circular fashion, imitating the world as it orbits the sun and moon; she further adds the various family activities and particular animals that would be found during the specific seasons.

Through this work, Ashevak has outlined what matters most to Inuit: family, the lands that Inuit live on and an awareness and respect for the animals that live on these lands. This piece provides a great reminder for ITK and their visitors of these ideas, which can also be found in Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit.

I have a soft spot for photographic works, which stems from my own artistic background in film and photography, and I was intrigued by the digital works of Chris P. Sampson and Kayley Mackay. At first glance, Sampson’s architectural photograph Untitled, Kuujjuaq (2008) can be seen as somewhat lacking in interest; however, I felt it was exemplary of the everyday life not only in Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, but in many other communities where these structures and materials are familiar to Inuit. A similar feeling is found in Kayley Mackay’s Bumpy Ride (2008), where we can imagine ourselves sitting in the back of this qamutiq, riding along the land. Both of these images give a modern view of life in the North—all while pushing the boundaries of what Inuit art means. Their photographs are

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CURATORIAL NOTES

ABOVE

Kayley Mackay (b. 1982 Yellowknife) — Bumpy Ride 2008 Digital print 46.5 × 71 cm COURTESY INDIGENOUS ART COLLECTION, CROWN-INDIGENOUS RELATIONS AND NORTHERN AFFAIRS CANADA

OPPOSITE (BELOW)

Elisapee Weetaluktuk (b. 1946 Inukjuak) — Sea Grass Basket 1999 Sea grass and steatite 33 × 27 × 27 cm COURTESY INDIGENOUS ART COLLECTION, CROWN-INDIGENOUS RELATIONS AND NORTHERN AFFAIRS CANADA PHOTO LAWRENCE COOK

Inuit Art Quarterly

an inspiration for future Inuit artists.

Other highlights from the IAC collection include artists from across the four regions of Inuit Nunangat—from Heather Campbell’s colourful pen and ink drawing Ground Cover (2017), showing mossy lichens and other plant life from Nunatsiavut; to the tightly woven Sea Grass Basket (1999) from the Nunavik region, created by Elisapee Weetaluktuk; to the graceful pair of Nesting Swans (1997), made of muskox horn and resting on caribou antler, carved by Inuvialuit artist William Gruben, and everything in between.

Of the works in the small, but growing, collection that ITK has acquired throughout the years through donations and gifts, there were a few gems that were uncovered.

One of these being a woven tapestry from Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung), NU, by artists Malaya Akulukjuk (1915–1995) and Olassie Akulukjuk titled Boy Chases Girl (c. 1980s).

Woven with bright colours, this tapestry shows the playfulness of two Inuit children and serves as a reminder of how important children and families are for Inuit.

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It came as no surprise to find some works

by Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007), as he had been a contributor to ITK’s Inuktitut magazine and Inuit Monthly during the mid-1970s and 80s. His writing and satirical drawings discussed many of the same issues that Inuit still face today. One untitled ink drawing of a large hawk (or eagle) so close to catching its prey, a young hare, made my jaw drop.

Behind this bird of prey is a full moon. I’ve always admired the way that Ipellie would use pen and ink to create simple yet moving images. Imagery involving hunting and the animals of the Arctic are a prominent theme, and one that fits ITK’s ongoing support of Inuit hunters and their commitment to improving food security.

During my time developing this project and reading the history of ITK in order to better understand just how far they have come since their inception, I took to reading many of the stories and poems by Alootook Ipellie—and would like to conclude with some of his words from his article “The Colonization of the Arctic”: Winter 2020

CURATORIAL NOTES

RIGHT

Ningiukulu Teevee (b. 1963 Kinngait) — Red Umbrella 2015 Printmaker Niveaksie Quvianaqtuliaq Lithograph 38.5 × 46 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © NINGIUKULU TEEVEE

“Despite having experienced incalculable injustices to their traditional culture and language, the Inuit will wake tomorrow with their chests thrust forward and their heads held high. They will end the nightmares of the past and once again dream some wonderful dreams for the future.”¹ I hope that working among these pieces of Inuit art inspires ITK staff and visiting stakeholders and highlights the importance of art in all areas of life. Many of these works were developed through the Inuit co-operative movements and each tells a story of Inuit cultural resiliency and self-determination, with dreams for the future.

NOTES 1

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Alootook Ipellie, “The Colonization of the Arctic,” in Indigena: Contemporary Native Perspectives in Canadian Art, eds. Gerald McMaster and Lee-Ann Martin (Craftsman House, 1992), 57.

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TRIBUTE

In Memoriam: The Inuit Art Quarterly Remembers

William Noah (1943–2020)

COURTESY RAIGELEE ALORUT

Prominent graphic artist William Noah of Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, passed away in July 2020. An inventive and creative print artist and painter, Noah occupied a unique space in the Qamani’tuaq art landscape as both a creator and an arts administrator. Noah was a regularly featured artist in the Baker Lake Annual Print Collections and was included in exhibitions across the United States and Canada.

Noah was encouraged to draw from an early age by his mother, the renowned artist Jesse Oonark, OC, RCA (1906–1985), and later learned the art of printmaking, becoming a printer in 1965. While prolific as a solo artist, much of his work was the result of frequent collaborations with his wife and fellow artist, Martha Noah. His work primarily focused on Inuit stories, Arctic landscapes and the animals which inhabited them, and he created pieces with a bright and distinctive colour palette best exemplified by his unique “x-ray” drawings—colourful cross-sectioned depictions of people and animals.

Noah advocated for Inuit artists as a politician, arts administrator and active community leader. He was a Member of the Northwest Territories Legislative Assembly from 1979–1982, served as mayor of Qamani’tuaq twice, from 1978-79 and again between 1996-97, and was President of the Board of Directors of Canadian Arctic Producers in 1978-79. Along with Sheila and Jack Butler, he formed the Art and Cold Cash Collective, interrogating how Inuit artists were encouraged to market their culture as a means of survival.

Noah’s work has been exhibited extensively across North America and is part of the permanent collections of the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON, the Indigenous Art Centre at Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada and the Canadian Museum of History in Gatineau, QC, among many others. In 2012 he was recognized for his work with a Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal. A prominent arts and community leader, Noah will be dearly missed for his contributions as an artist as well as for his advocacy for other Inuit artists.

Adam Alorut (1980–2020)

Inuit Art Quarterly

COURTESY WINNIPEG ART GALLERY PHOTO DARLENE COWARD WIGHT

Adam Alorut, a talented multidisciplinary artist who specialized in carving stone, bone and antler, passed away in August 2020. Under the tutelage of his father, well-known sculptor Morris Alorut, Adam learned to carve at a young age and eventually expanded his practice to include a range of media from sculpture to jewellery, all uniquely distinguishable by his keen eye for detail. Alorut is known for his artfully and finely carved human hair, fish scales and bird feathers, all intricately captured in his richly textured works in stone and bone.

Born in Iqaluit, NU, and spending much of his adult life in Ottawa, ON, Alorut created a body of work that pays homage to his homelands and culture, and one influenced by many of the stories he encountered while living in the South. The relationship between good and evil developed as a common theme for the artist, a duality that manifested more sharply in his later sculptural works. These works are well-regarded on the local and national level: his whale vertebrae carving Spirit (2018) was acquired by the City of Ottawa Art Collection in 2019, and his 2010 piece Spiritual Warfare was acquired in 2011 by the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON. In 2017, Alorut was selected as one of five carvers for the Usuaq Carving Project, a partnership between The Walrus and TD Bank. Alorut will be fondly remembered as an innovator in the contemporary Inuit art landscape who used his medium to share stories with Inuit and non-Inuit alike across the North and South.

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NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

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BELOW

Kenojuak Ashevak (1927–2013 Kinngait) — Raven’s Voyage 2001 Printmaker Qiatsuq Niviaqsi Stonecut and stencil 55.9 × 71.1 cm

Katherine Takpannie (b. 1989 Ottawa) — Katinniaqtugut 2020 Digital photograph COURTESY THE ARTIST

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © KENOJUAK ASHEVAK

Owners Find Cache of Kinngait Prints In Newly Purchased House House flippers in Michigan discovered a large collection of Inuit art upon purchasing a property this summer after the passing of its previous owner. Approximately 40 prints— all originals, including works by Kenojuak Ashevak and Qavavau Manumie—were among the effects. “This has been a very interesting journey for us,” says buyer Tamara Noskov. She and husband Andrey plan to sell the prints through a local gallery.

“While it’s a wonderful story for [the buyers], it’s very sad for the collector,” says art dealer Mark London, who sees the episode as a ‘cautionary tale’ highlighting the importance of planning for the future of one’s collection.

Kiugak Ashoona Sculpture Sells for Record-Breaking $110,000 At Potomack Company Auctions and Appraisals’ online Inuit art auction this past October, Howling Spirit (Tornrak) and Its Young (1962), a sculpture by Kiugak Ashoona, sold for a hammer price of $110,000, doubling the artist’s previous auction record.

The piece features elements of the artist’s signature style, yet the high price it commanded is likely due to its unique provenance. Given to Arthur A. Houghton Jr., then President of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, by James Houston, the sculpture was later featured on the catalogue cover for the 1971 landmark Sculpture/Inuit exhibition, which toured major cities internationally.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Indigenous Language Keepers Formally Name Winnipeg Art Gallery’s Inuit Art Centre

Nordic Pavilion to Become Sámi Pavilion for Venice Biennale 2022

A circle of Indigenous language keepers representing all four regions of Inuit Nunagat, as well as Anishinaabemowin, Nêhiyawêwin, Dakota and Michif (Métis) speakers, has given a formal name to the building previously known as the Inuit Art Centre. Qaumajuq, an Inuktitut name meaning “it is bright, it is lit,” was chosen to celebrate the light that flows into the new building, which is expected to open in February 2021.

The Circle also named all of the building’s interior spaces, as well as the WAG itself, whose new designation, Biindigin Biwaasaeyaah, is an Anishinaabemowin name meaning “Come on in, the dawn of light is here”. “We are so honoured to gift the institution with these new names that point to a new a path forward for galleries and museums in this country,” said Dr. Julie Nagam and Dr. Heather Igloliorte, co-chairs of the Indigenous Advisory Circle at the WAG, in a statement. Dr. Stephen Borys, WAG Director and CEO, affirmed, “We can’t wait to unveil this new cultural landmark in the heart of the country with these new names honouring Indigenous voices and languages.”

The Office for Contemporary Art Norway (OCA) announced that the Nordic Pavilion at the 59th Venice Biennale will be transformed into the Sámi Pavilion, marking the first time that Sámi are recognized as a nation at the Biennale. Artists Pauliina Feodoroff, Máret Ánne Sara and Anders Sunna, each hailing from a distinct region of Sápmi, will be featured.

“At this pivotal moment, it is vital to consider Indigenous ways of relating to the environment and to each other,” said Katya García-Antón, Director of OCA. The pavilion will be curated by García-Antón, Sámi scholar Liisa-Rávná Finbog and Sámi nature guardian Beaska Niillas, and assisted by OCA Project Officers Liv Brissach and Raisa Porsanger.

Qaggiavuut Announces New All-Inuit Senior Leadership Team Qaggiavuut Performing Arts Society has announced a new, all-Inuit Senior Leadership team, comprising Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory as Artistic Director, Ashley KilabukSavard as Director of the Qaggiq School of the Performing Arts, Simeonie Kisa-Knickelbein as Qaggiq Hub Director and Pitseolak Pfeifer as Interim Executive Director. This new team will be responsible for the development and leadership of the programming offered through the organization.

The four-person team represents a new, consensus-based leadership model for the organization, which was previously helmed by an Artistic Director and Executive Director.

“It’s inspiring to dream of our future and the spaces we can and will create for our children, grandchildren and generations to come,” said Kilabuk-Savard of the change.

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Katherine Takpannie Wins a 2020 New Generation Photography Award Inuk photographer Katherine Takpannie has won a 2020 New Generation Photography Award. Takpannie captures intimate portraits of women, and uses her photography to address performance and political protest.

She was recently featured at the 2020 exhibition They Forgot That We Were Seeds at the Carleton University Art Gallery.

The award celebrates photographers under the age of 35, and is the result of a partnership between Scotiabank and the National Gallery of Canada. All three recipients will receive $10,000. Due to COVID-19, their works will feature alongside the 2021 winners next year at the National Gallery of Canada and at the Toronto Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival.

Winter 2020

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”Sedna Rising” 2020 Manasiah Akpaliapik, (1955– ) Arctic Bay/Ikpiarjuk, Nunavut Zimbabwean serpentine with inlaid eyes of North American abalone shell, base of Jade and peg of Caribou antler h: 33.5” x w: 25.0” x d : 27.0” (Length of Sedna: 43.0”)

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2020

Visit archaeological sites and learn experts

©Martin Lipman

Dip your feet in the Arctic Ocean

©Martin Lipman

Seek polar bears in Lancaster Sound

Meet our cultural ambassador Karen Nutarak

©Martin Lipman

©Stephen Gorman

©Dennis Minty

Kayak the face of a glacier

Extraordinary Experiences Await

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LAST LOOK

Pudlo Pudlat Untitled (Women on the Land) Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992 Kinngait) — Untitled (Women on the Land) 1977–78 Acrylic, coloured pencil and ink 52.7 × 60.3 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY EXPANDINGINUIT.COM © PUDLO PUDLAT

Inuit Art Quarterly

With the complementary peachy orange and soft electric blues of this work, Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992) has assembled a mass of contradictions. Using an acrylic wash—acrylic paint thinned with water until it becomes translucent—in conjunction with ink and coloured pencil, Pudlat’s material choice reflects one of the central themes of his work: depictions of traditional life merging with modern technology. Here, this at-the-time new technique mixes with coloured pencil and ink, mediums that Inuit artists had already long embraced.

The layering of these media is twinned by the piece’s composition, with two figures watching from a seemingly stacked landscape as a loon floats along the green water. Each is flanked by a single caribou, their distinct silhouettes rising above the horizon line. These two characters share some relation, bearing the same heart-shaped face and middle-parted hair.

Their surrounding landscapes are mirror images of each other, in the above the caribou’s magnificent rack of antlers peeks up from the left, and from the right on the other.

Pudlat began working with acrylics in the early 1970s alongside a group of six other Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artists: Kiugak Ashoona, CC, RCA (1933–2014), Kingmeata Etidlooie (1915–1989), Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002), Lucy Qinnuayuak (1915–1982), Eegyvadluk Ragee (1920–1983) and Sorosiluto Ashoona. They initially learned the wash technique from painter Kate Graham, who visited the studio as an artist in residence. By 1980, many of the Kinngait artists’ paintings had travelled throughout major cities in North America and Europe, with a selection featured in the 1980 Cape Dorset Print Collection catalogue.

This acrylic wash painting technique became a frequent feature of Pudlat’s later work, signalling that although it is often positioned as a new medium in Inuit art, celebrated artists such as Pudlat have been using paint for nearly 50 years—quietly reclaiming a crucial and often overlooked pocket of Inuit art history.

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Winter 2020

Amplifying Indigenous voices from across Canada through the TD Art Collection Image Credit: Charlene Vickers, Fish Coming Out, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 121.9 x 152.4 cm, Courtesy Macaulay & Co Fine Art, TD Bank Corporate Art Collection.

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Visit TD Gallery of Indigenous Art at 79 Wellington St. West in Toronto. ® The TD logo and other TD trade-marks are the property of the Toronto-Domion Bank.