Inuit Art Quarterly - Activism & Access: Resurgence in the Arts by Inuit Art Quarterly

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CONTENTS

37.2

Inuit Art Quarterly Activism & Access

Front

Features

Back CURATORIAL NOTES

03 Message from the Inuit Art Foundation

60 -miut curated by Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak

05 From the Editor

TRIBUTE

62 Uriash Puqiqnak by Sarah Deller

06 Meet the Contributors 08 Impact Update

66 News

5 WORKS

Art as Activism by Napatsi Folger

Shuvinai Ashoona by Lily Rose Grant

LAST LOOK

68 Nicotye Samayualie

CHOICE

Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn by Phebe Bentley ARTISTS’ CORNER

22 Calling all Inuit Artists! PROFILE

24 John Taylor by Jessica MacDonald

FEATURE

28 Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light by Krista Ulujuk Zawadski

A curator and researcher assesses the accessibility of Inuit art collections. FEATURE

38 Outside the Institution— Other Spaces for Art by Cass Gardiner

Four events that provide creative ways to experience art, build community and foster collaboration. LEGACY

50 Making Room for Inuit Curators to Thrive by Heather Igloliorte and Taqralik Partridge

Two Inuit curators discuss the barriers Inuit face working in the profession today.

ON THE COVER

Julie Edel Hardenberg — Rigsfællesskabspause (back) 2005 Cotton straitjacket © THE ARTIST

LEFT

Julie Edel Hardenberg — Rigsfællesskabspause (front) 2005 Cotton straitjacket © THE ARTIST

RIGHT (TOP) CORRECTION

The article “Kajungiqsaut Grants: Encouraging Inuit Artists to Pursue Their Aspirations” in our Spring 2024 issue featured an incorrect headshot for Candace Bristow, who is correctly pictured here. The IAQ regrets the error.

Activism & Access

Billy Gauthier — The Earth, Our Mother (in progress) 2023 Fin whale skull bone 142.2 × 203.2 × 76.2 cm COURTESY BONAVISTA BIENNALE PHOTO BRIAN RICKS © THE ARTIST

Front

MASTHEAD 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 Victoria, BC

Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti Napatsi Folger

Vice-President Reneltta Arluk Vancouver, BC

Managing Editor Erin Sylvester

Secretary-Treasurer Julie Grenier Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC

Established in 1987, the Inuit Art Foundation is a not-for-profit charitable organization that provides support to Canada’s Inuit arts communities and is the sole national body mandated to promote Inuit artists and art within Canada and internationally. This magazine relies on donations made to the Inuit Art Foundation, a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282). The Inuit Art Foundation gratefully acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through contributions from the 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. 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: June 15, 2024 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

Associate Editor and Editorial Supervisor Jessica MacDonald Associate Editor Melissa Kawaguchi Associate Editor Emily Lawrence Assistant Editor Tiffany Raddi Copy Editor Carly Brooks Fact Checker Michelle Sones Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson

Linda Grussani Ottawa, ON Goretti Kakuktinniq Kangiqliniq, NU Claudette Knight Toronto, ON Michael Massie Kippens, NL Ryan Rice Toronto, ON

Art Director Maegan Fidelino Arctic Arts Summit Platform Managing Editor Charissa von Harringa Colour Gas Company Printing Interprovincial Group —

FOUNDATION Operations Manager Brittany Holliss Executive Assistant Alyson Hardwick Artist Services Manager Amy Norman

Marketing and Communications Manager Maggie Hinbest Social Media Coordinator Erin Robertson

Awards Manager Paige Connell

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.

Artist Portal Coordinator Alessandra Montefiore

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.

Special Projects Officer Malayah Maloney

Inuit Art Quarterly

Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette Montreal, QC

Program Officer Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk Special Projects Officer Leanne Inuarak-Dall

Artist Support Officer Bronson Jacque Artist Liaison (outgoing) Heather Campbell

Summer 2024

MESSAGE FROM THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Thank you for reading the Inuit Art Quarterly and for your commitment to Inuit art—I am so glad you are a member of our special community! The past several years have seen incredible changes within the Inuit arts community: Inuit artists have had major successes on the world stage, and awareness of the breadth of their practices continues to grow. Despite these advances, many barriers to their success persist, which have been fueled by the pandemic. As we went to press for this issue, the Inuit Art Foundation released a new strategic plan to guide the future of our work in strengthening the sector and supporting artists in achieving their artistic ambitions. I invite you to read it at inuitartfoundation.org/about and would welcome your feedback! We will be announcing dates for feedback sessions over the summer, and you are always welcome to email us at contact@inuitartfoundation.org. The IAF’s work is only possible with the support of our community, so thank you so much for creating opportunities for artists to create, connect and share with the world! Alysa Procida Executive Director and Publisher

Peter Pitseolak — The Eskimo Will Talk Like the White Man 1940 Painting, watercolour and collage COURTESY INUIT ART FOUNDATION © THE ARTIST

Activism & Access

Front

other tongues Organized by RYAN RICE

PART

I COMMUNICATION WORKS BY:

IYANU AJAGUNNA

SCHEM ROGERSON BADER ..... ............................ SUSAN BLIGHT ........ SIMON GLASS ..................... .................. URSULA HANDLEIGH JULIUS PONCELET MANAPUL ..................... DIANE MIKHAEL .... DR. KATHY MOSCOU .................. ...... PAR NAIR ............................... JULIA ROSE SUTHERLAND ...... ........................ TOMMY TRUONG NATALIE MAJABA WALDBURGER AMY WONG .................................

Jean Marshall ANIKOOBIJIKEWIN Guest Curated by LINDA GRUSSANI AS PART OF THE MAWADISHIWEWIN (VISITS) SERIES

JUN 19 ➝ NOV 30, 2024

FREE PUBLIC RECEPTION

June 19 → 5 to 7 p.m.

FREE ADMISSION

OCADU.CA/ONSITE

1 9 9 R I C H M O N D S T., W. T O R O N T O O N .

Above: Amy Wong, AMY 2 ½ to 4 yrs., ., 2024 (detail), Cassette tape audio recording. Image courtesy of the artist. Below: Jean Marshall, Untitled,, 2024, (work in progress), hide, glass beads, porcupine quills, sequin and thread. Image courtesy of the artist.

FROM THE EDITOR

We are living in a time of unprecedented access to information and we have the ability to communicate with people across the globe. With the rapid growth of technology comes a new set of socio-political challenges. One of those challenges, which I see regularly in my engagement with Inuit and other Indigenous artists and curators, is the perception that our voices and stories are now being given centre stage by many historically colonial institutions. While I agree that opportunities and values are beginning to change for the better for Indigenous people in the arts, it is important to critically examine the work being done by arts institutions, universities and governments to ensure that they are not merely acts of lip service or (intentional or not) tokenism.

That is why I am so excited to share this issue of the IAQ, which focuses on activism and access. In this issue we hear from Inuit curatorial and academic powerhouses like Krista Ulujuk Zawadski, Taqralik Partridge and Dr. Heather Igloliorte about what genuinely handing the reins of curatorial control to Inuit really means. Zawadski outlines the barriers the Inuit public face when seeking to view our art and historical piqutiit (belongings) in museums and institutional collections. Igloliorte and Partridge discuss the difficulty of changing the colonial structure of large institutions to give more autonomy to Inuit and other Indigenous curators and arts administrators. How do we dismantle the rigid structures of the past to accommodate the more holistic values of our people? In her Feature, “Outside the Institution— Other Spaces for Art,” Cass Gardiner highlights the importance of decolonial art spaces, which create opportunities for artists and their communities to view and appreciate art outside of traditional institutions. Gardiner also illuminates some of the festivals and exhibitions that provide a valuable counterbalance to the structures that usually house our creative and cultural work. In this issue we strive to highlight art with intentional elements of activism from the perspective of Inuit, contrasting with the tendency of some non-Inuit curators to impose themes and meaning on Inuit art. Is that print of an iceberg really a commentary on climate change, or was its original intention to depict the artist’s homeland for a completely different reason? With those questions in mind, we worked with our contributors to bring artwork together and, as much as possible, address the artists’ intentionality when analyzing and including their work in this issue. From Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn’s Specimen 22 (2023) to Julie Edel Hardenberg’s Rigsfællesskabspause (2005), the pages of this issue are packed with images of sometimes angry, sometimes beautiful instances of resistance and power. These artists command our attention and encourage us to make space within ourselves to listen and learn. Napatsi Folger Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti

Ossie Michelin — Mi’kma’ki 2013 Digital photograph © THE ARTIST

Activism & Access

Front

MEET THE CONTRIBUTORS

A behind-the-scenes look at the issue The IAQ asked the contributors for Activism & Access to share with readers any surprises, inspirations or anecdotes about their work in this issue. Here is what they said: “Inuit art can be found all over the world, sometimes in places you least expect. I enjoyed talking to the editor about the layered ‘hungry collecting’ in museums and learning about collections that I didn’t know about before. I think access to collections is an important topic so that we can find ways to assert our voices into them.”

KRISTA ULUJUK ZAWADSKI SAQQITITTINIQ: BRING THEM TO LIGHT PAGE 28

CASS GARDINER OUTSIDE THE INSTITUTION— OTHER SPACES FOR ART PAGE 38

LILY ROSE GRANT CHOICE: SHUVINAI ASHOONA PAGE 16

“Writing about Shuvinai Ashoona’s [RCA] Drawing like the elephant (2023) coincided with our exhibition at The Perimeter in London, UK, Shuvinai Ashoona: When I Draw, and our accompanying catalogue of the same name. I feel very lucky to have had this time to spend with Ashoona’s work and to research her practice, and I am grateful for this opportunity to share some of what I felt and thought in the process.”

What struck me when writing this article was how important it is to gather in person—especially for so many artists and writers who are oftentimes working alone. Creation can be an isolating experience, but the sharing of work can be aﬃrming as to why we do it in the ﬁrst place.”

This issue’s contributor illustrations are by Yurak Yurak is a painter, printmaker, illustrator, jewellery maker and learning-tattooist from Iqaluit, NU. They use vivid colour palettes to express themes of Indigeneity and gender fluidity in their art, as well as traditional materials, like seal and char skin, in their beaded jewellery.

Visit their IAQ profile at inuitartfoundation.org/Yurak

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

COVER SPOTLIGHT

There were Inuit in the ’90s and early 2000s like Heather Campbell, Barry Pottle, Dinah Andersen and others who worked in the art section of what is now Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada, but for the most part there haven’t been a lot of Inuit holding permanent positions in institutions. And that is something that is a pretty big change right now, even if everybody’s moving around.” HEATHER IGLOLIORTE MAKING ROOM FOR INUIT CURATORS TO THRIVE PAGE 50

Julie Edel Hardenberg COVER SPOTLIGHT

TAQRALIK PARTRIDGE MAKING ROOM FOR INUIT CURATORS TO THRIVE PAGE 50

It’s great that there are more Inuit curators, but the opportunities available to them need to be magniﬁed, particularly the commitment of full-time permanent positions.”

Check out this issue’s artists at inuitartfoundation.org/profiles Activism & Access

Rigsfællesskabspause (2005), meaning “A National Pause,” is a striking piece by Kalaaleq artist Julie Edel Hardenberg and the perfect work to represent the theme of activism in this issue of the IAQ. The red and white cotton stands out in relief against a sky-blue background, functioning as both a visually stunning creative choice and as a representation of the national flag of Denmark. Hardenberg explores identity, colonization and power dynamics in her work, and in Rigsfællesskabspause she cleverly stitches these themes together by featuring a straitjacket depicting the flag of Denmark on the back (shown here and on the cover) and the flag of Kalaallit Nunaat on the front (shown in Contents). Hardenberg, who has been working in the arts for 30 years, notes on her website that “I don’t know whether I’m doing art or activism or political work. I just know that my work is my way of not being silenced.” The artist is an affi liate of the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts and the University of Copenhagen and currently holds an Associate Professor II position at Bergen Academy of Art and Design in Norway. Works like Rigsfællesskabspause intend to confront European countries so they acknowledge their colonial past and the lasting effects of their actions on modern society. While flags are often associated with identity and sovereignty, they can also represent power and belief. The placement of Kalaallit Nunaat’s flag with its red and white circle on the front contrasts starkly with the cross-bearing Danish flag on the garment’s back. They may share a colour palette, but their meanings are vastly different.

Front

THANK YOU

Donors make all the difference The Ikajuqtiit Circle changes lives all year long Members of the Ikajuqtiit Circle—those who help—are caring donors who protect and nurture the Inuit art community. As Ikajuqtiit Circle members, you provide opportunities for artists to explore their practices, learn new skills and grow. You raise global awareness and appreciation of Inuit art. The generous Ikajuqtiit Circle members listed on these pages make all this and more possible. Thank you! Gifts listed here were made between March 1, 2023, and March 31, 2024.

Lipa Pitsiulak — Evening Games of Spring 1979 Printmaker Thomasie Alikatuktuk Stencil 30.5 × 93 cm COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ AND THE GOVERNMENT OF NUNAVUT PHOTO LIANED MARCOLETA © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

THANK YOU

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

Amy Adams Mary Anglim Andrea Arnold Vincent and Barbara Barresi Maddie Beaulieu Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Tobi Bruce Sue Carter Kay Cookie Cartwright Dr. Anne Croy Gordon Davidson Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Kelly Dickinson Hal Dietz Patricia and Donald Dodds Tracey Doherty Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais Mathieu Doucette Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg Engelstad Family F. Enright Lynn Feasey Patricia Feheley Dana Forsman

Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Roxanne McCaig Joanna Miazga Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Rachel O’Neill Kara Pearce Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price David Pride Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Leslie Reid Eva Riis-Culver Margerit Roger Sheilah Rowe Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Kassie Ruth Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell

Maxime Fortin Alison Freebairn Jennifer Fryer Anik Glaude Deborah D. Gordon Linda Grussani Andrea Hamilton Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Jackie Hatherly-Martin and Keith Martin Dianne Hayman Bryan Hellwig Robert Hurst Aphantasia Indigo Amy Jenkins Rozanne Junker Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Dr. Claudette Knight M.A. Konantz Dr. Simon E. Lappi Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Jacqueline Littlewood

Paula Santrach Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Paul J. Skahan Joyce and Fred Sparling Charmaine Spencer David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule P. Colleen Suche Jacek Szulc Jay and Deborah Thomson Emilie Tremblay Gail Vanstone Robert and Brenda Watson Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Elka Weinstein Peggy Weller Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Amanda Whitney Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith and six anonymous donors

Tunisiniq Nunarjjuaq Piuniqsauqumut Circle The Tunisiniq Nunarjjuaq Piuniqsauqumut Circle is a special group of donors who have included a legacy gift to the IAF in their will. In doing so they will leave a meaningful legacy that supports Inuit artists for generations to come.

Activism & Access

Eleanor R. Erikson Judith Gavin Bryan Hellwig Warren Howard Kathleen Lippa Kara Pearce

Richard Sourkes Scott B. White Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Bea Zizlavsky and two anonymous donors

Front

THANK YOU

IAF Tunisijut Circle

Monthly supporter Legacy supporter Multi-year pledge supporter Endowment supporter

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.

$100,000+ RBC Foundation $50,000–$74,999 The Flanagan Foundation TD Bank Group $25,000–$49,999 Terra Foundation for American Art at The Chicago Community Foundation $10,000–$24,999 Adventure Canada Joe Miller $5,000–$9,999 Eleanor R. Erikson Erik Haites $2,500–$4,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Gabrielle Campbell Clench House Foundation Patricia and Donald Dodds Janice Gonsalves David and Liz Macdonald MakeWay Foundation Barbara Legowski and Lewis Auerbach Paul and Carole Pizzolante ON Kassie Ruth The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation Hunter Thompson Ann and Wayne Tompkins

Inuit Art Quarterly

Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award supporter Inuit Art Quarterly supporter IAQ Profiles supporter Artist Services supporter

$1,000–$2,499 Kristiina and Timmun Alariaq, Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Blair and Tara Assaly Anne and Don Badke Philanthropic Fund Vincent and Barbara Barresi Elise Brais Lisa-Margaret Stevenson Bryan Hal Dietz Marian Dodds, in memory of Dedie Dodds Arthur Drache, CM , KC and Judy Young Drache Jon and Valerie Eliassen Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. Patricia Feheley Jennifer Fryer Peter Gillespie, in memory of Ly Solomon on behalf of the Solomon and Gillespie Fund Goring Family Foundation Linda Grussani Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Carol Heppenstall Smaro Kamboureli Rawlson King Dr. Simon E. Lappi Hesty Leibtag Kathleen Lippa Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation Christie MacInnes Susan Marrier Kathryn C. Minard, ISA CAPP Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Lisa Niedenthal Shannon Norberg and Jarvis Hall Susan A. Ollila Joram Piatigorsky

Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price Sanford Riley Leslie Roden-Foreman and Michael Foreman Frances Scheidel Barbara Turner Gail Vanstone Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith Norman Zepp and Judith Varga and five anonymous donors (2 , 1 , 3 , 1 )

Illannarijaujut Tunngavinngmit $500–$999 Arctic Co-Operatives Limited Judy Banning Gary Boratto Anne Borchardt, in memory of Claus Borchardt Tobi Bruce Margaret S. Bursaw, in memory of John Maounis Yvonne Condell Gordon Davidson James Delaney, in memory of Gerald Nicholas Tighe Kelly Dickinson Kate Doorly Engelstad Family Maxime Fortin Alain Fournier Dianne Hayman Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Bryan Hellwig Mark Hirschman Mr. Roger and Mrs. Margaret Horton Lori Labatt Ellen Lehman and Charles Kennel

Nagesh Mahanthappa and Valentine Talland P. McKeown Charles Moss and Dee Fenner Allan Newell Nadine Nickner and Harald Finkler, in memory of Tim Pitsiulak Martin Pâquet Don Pether André Picard Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Leslie Reid Margerit Roger Joseph Salkowitz, DMD Paula Santrach Celine Saucier David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Nicholas Wattson Westchester Community Foundation Bell-Jacoby Family Fund Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Cathy Wilkes, in memory of David Wilkes Mark and Margie Zivin and two anonymous donors (2 , 2 ) $250–$499 Amy Adams Wallace Altes Susan Baum and Robert Ludwig Marc Bendick Jean Blane Herbert Braun Sue Carter Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Tracey Doherty Sophie Dorais Nathalie Ducamp Keith R. Evans KC David and Lauren Feiglin Alison Freebairn Lisa Frenette

Summer 2024

THANK YOU

Iet Frumau Peter and Deirdre Gardner Judith Gavin Gold/Joy Fund (2024) at the Community Foundation for Greater Buffalo Jesse Goodman Deborah D. Gordon Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Andrea Hamilton Jackie Hatherly-Martin and Keith Martin Laurie Herd Ingo Hessel Joanne Hommik Robert Hurst Cana Uluak Itchuaqiyaq, Iñupiaq Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Nancy Keppelman and Michael Smerza Dr. Claudette Knight Val Lem Ann Lesk Jacqueline Littlewood Patricia Logrippo Dr. Neil and Elaine Margolis Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Joanna Miazga Robert Michaud Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Quirien Muijlwijk Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Louisa O’Reilly Donna and Hal Olsen Aarohi Patel Kara Pearce William and Ann Polk Frank Reid and Amparo Maya Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Bruce Roberts Kerstin Roger Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Sheilah Rowe Susan Rowley Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell Michael Ryan

Activism & Access

Adelle Daviau, in memory of Sadie Angelique Daviau Philip Davis Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Dr. Sara L. Diamond Mathieu Doucette Judith Dowler Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg F. Enright Lynne and John Eramo Andy Fallas Lynn Feasey Claire Foussard Joana Fraga Donna Fremont Ed Friedman JoAnne and Richard Fuerst Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Anik Glaude Karen Gorsline Nelson Graburn, in honour of Aisaki Pallayat Sallumiut Ronald and Yvonne Grapentine John Hanjian and Carmen Nowak Tekla Harms Cary Hart Sheila Hart, in honor of the many Inuit artists who have enriched my life through their work Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Debrah and Brian Hirsch Jane Horner Warren Howard Dr. Jacqueline Hynes James and Linda Igloliorte Aphantasia Indigo Jeannette Jackson-Thompson, MSPH , PHD Amy Jenkins Sharon Jorgens The Josie Family Melinda Josie Rozanne Junker Jennipher Kean, in honour of Elizabeth O’Grady Anne Kearns Jo-Ann Kolmes M. A. Konantz Larry and Joyce LaCroix Kathryn Lagrandeur Le Grand Élan Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Gordon Leggett

Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Karl-Werner Schulte Michael and Melanie Southern Charmaine Spencer Tom Suber and Cary Griffin Suncor Energy George and Jacqueline Szabo Michel Thabet Jay and Deborah Thomson Emilie Tremblay Peter R. Van Brunt Merri Lea Van Dyke Gord and Laurie Webster Peggy Weller Peter and Mary Wilson Mark and Margie Zivin and four anonymous donors (3 ) $100–$249 James and Marjorie Abel, in honour of Xanthipi Abel Lea Algar-Moscoe Patricia Allen Mary Anglim Diana Antoon Frank P. Araujo, for art, for the Inuit cultures and the bountiful interplay of the two Andrea Arnold ART+PUBLIC UnLtd Barbara Aylett Catherine Badke Stephen Baker H. Mary Balint Elizabeth Ball Maddie Beaulieu Heather Muir Beecroft Brian Belchamber Christie and Jurg Bieri Catherine Birt Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Margaret Brill-Edwards Jim and Mary F. Campbell Kay Cookie Cartwright Shelley Chochinov Cobalt Art Gallery Carol Cole Catherine Cole Charles and Arline Crockford Dr. Anne Croy Ruby Cruz Raymond Currie and Charlene Thacker Currie Fred Cutler

Nora Little, in honour of John A. and Irene Little, John F. Little and Mary Jo Little Lois Loewen Daryl Logan Denis Longchamps Dr. Marie Loyer Peter Lyman Mike and Cindy MacMillan Catherine Madsen, in memory of Thomas and Winifred Madsen Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Jure Manfreda Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk Paul Mayer Roxanne McCaig John A. McKendry Alessandra Montefiore Gary Nelson NunatuKavut full-member Suzanne O’Hara Rachel O’Neill Marina Oeler Bonnie Park PayPal Giving Fund Canada Kate Permut Felicity Pope Steve Potocny David Pride David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Mickey Ranalli Elizabeth Robinson Janet Robinson Sheila Romalis Gabriel Rosenberg Richard and Yvonne Rothenberg Lise Rousson-Morneau and Yves Morneau Wally Sapach Genevieve Sartor Allan Seiersen Divya Shah Paul J. Skahan Michelle E. Smith Joyce and Fred Sparling Harriet Stairs P. Stevens Jennifer Stoots P. Colleen Suche Mark Swartz, in honour of Dr. and Mrs. MJ Swartz and Family Jacek Szulc

Front

THANK YOU

Charles Tator Diana Trafford Joan R. Truckenbrod Anne Vagi Louise and James Vesper Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas James and Karen Walton Robert and Brenda Watson Lowell Waxman Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Elka Weinstein Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Scott B. White Amanda Whitney J. Willson and eight anonymous donors (2 , 1 , 1 , 2 ) Up to $99 Annie Amaruq Devony Baugh Mitch Birken Bill Bradley Cedric Brodin Dorothy Caldwell and William Woods Mark Cheetham Michelle Coyne Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif

Shari Huhndorf Cecilia Ignatieff Lily Jackson, in honour of Lorna Jackson Janique Johnson-Lafleur Anne R. Jones Elizabeth Kocmur Magdalene Köppen Fae Marie Anne Logie Matthew Lyons and Virginia Claire McGuire Laura Macdonald Kathy Mallett Geraldine and Peter Marshall Carola Marte Peter Allan McKitrick Mary McLaren, in memory of Ian and Bernice McLaren Sean McMahon Colette Meehan Stanley Middlestadt Melanie Milanich The Honourable Wilfred P. Moore Oliver Moorhouse David Muir Peter Murphy Lou Nelson Sue Newman Peter Noteboom

Anna De Aguayo Josephine De Vincenzo Wilfrid Denis Paulette Dennis Celia Denov Simone Dionne-Rancourt Yasemin Eroglu Jan Fergus Chun Fong Dana Forsman Jessie Fortier-Ningiuruvik Ronald and Anne Foster Paula Frisch Bill and Sarah Gibbons Susan Godin Ariel Godwin Claire Gold Philip Goldring Kristine Greenaway Susan C. Griswold Mark Gustafson Barbara Hale Kathryn Hanna Mary Hanson Kathryn Heller-McRoberts Rick Hiebert Rosemary Hilton Brittany Holliss Albert and Femmeke Holthuis Karen and David Hood

Douglas Palmerton Matt Pierce Anne Pullon Ron and Sigrid Rhodes Anita L. Romaniuk Judith C. Saeger N. Jerimiah Sappington Janet Savard Bruno Savoie Kathryn Scott Patricia Scott David and Lesley Serkoak S. Shadick-Taylor sk Elizabeth C. Smeloff Janet L. Sponagle Karen Thorne-Stone Matt Traversy Elizabeth Vadas Mary and George Varley Grace Voisey Clark Garnet Ward John Weber Christopher and Barbara Wood And eight anonymous donors (3 , 1 )

You can make the difference There are more than 13,000 Inuit artists working in Canada today. Many face barriers to making and showcasing their work, but all 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. To learn more about how to support artists, please contact us at 647-498-7717 ext. 104 or visit us online at inuitartfoundation.org/ways-to-give.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

Without you, there is no IAQ. Help keep the magazine you love stay in print! Please donate today to support the production of the IAQ. Give online at inuitartfoundation.org/donate or by scanning the QR code.

5 WORKS

Art as Activism

Content note: This article contains discussions of tuberculosis sanatoria and Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls and Two-Spirit People (MMIWG2S+). Support is available 24 hours a day for anyone affected by MMIWG2S+ or who may be triggered by content dealing with MMIWG2S+ through the national crisis line at 1-844-413-6649.

by Napatsi Folger GUEST EDITOR AND TAUTTUNNGUAQTI

Art is a very accessible way for marginalized people to express their perspectives in societies that attempt to suppress them. This Five Works explores the incredible ways that Inuit and other circumpolar Indigenous artists use their artwork to express their concerns about their changing world. 1/

Pudlo Pudlat

Arctic Allegory (1992) A large, cross-bearing bird foregrounds Arctic Allegory while a clergyman clad in religious vestments raises his hands in the background. The bird, which appears to represent Inuit spirituality, has its head bowed to the minister. A master of visual metaphor, Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992) is alluding to the proselytization

of Inuit that occurred during his lifetime. The blush hues that both the bird and man are cast in call to mind the interpretation that pink and fuchsia denote the right relationship with God. I see this artwork, created the year he died, as the culmination of a lifetime of reflection on the acculturation of Inuit spirituality.

Ulivia Uviluk

Beaded Amauti (2019)

ABOVE (LEFT)

Pudlo Pudlat — Arctic Allegory 1992 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph and stencil 51.3 × 66.4 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

ABOVE (RIGHT)

OPPOSITE (TOP)

Ulivia Uviluk — Beaded Amauti 2019 11/0 seed beads and fur 11 × 6.7 × 3.2 cm

Tomas Colbengtson — Land Protector 2022 Metal and print 220 × 120 × 10 cm

COURTESY AVATAQ CULTURAL INSTITUTE PHOTO MARIE-CHRISTINE COUTURE © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM LEFT)

Augatnaaq Eccles — Tuberculosis Parka/Japa 2022 Melton wool, quilted lining, fox fur, felt, embroidery thread, bias tape and polyester fringe Approximately 96.5 × 57.2 cm © THE ARTIST

Ulivia Uviluk created Beaded Amauti in response to her personal experience with the disproportionate violence enacted on Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA+ people. Echoing the empty dresses displayed on Red Dress Day, which was inspired by Métis artist Jaime Black’s 2010 installation The REDress Project, Uviluk associates the red in the Canadian flag with the blood of all the Indigenous women who have died by violence, making her colour choice for this piece a significant one. Shaping the red beads into an amauti, a symbol of Inuit womanhood, and detailing it with black beads and brown fur, Uviluk centres Inuit within this nod to Red Dress Day.

Summer 2024

5 WORKS

Tomas Colbengtson

Land Protector (2022) Though not officially linked to the Land Back movement, this artwork is similarly advocating for Indigenous sovereignty over ancestral lands. Here “Sápmie,” referring to the Sámi word for their traditional lands, is printed on a steel signpost resembling contemporary street signs and placed before Sweden’s Parliament House. Also in 2022, the Swedish Parliament unveiled a commissioned artwork celebrating a century of women’s suffrage. Symbolizing the Swedish government’s unwillingness to recognize Sámi land sovereignty by highlighting the omission of Sápmie and other Sámi terms within the codification of Swedish street signs and place names, Colbengtson draws attention to the disparity between Sámi and non-Sámi Swedes.

Tuberculosis Parka/Japa (2022)

Seal Stuck in Oil Drum (2012)

Augatnaaq Eccles

The Canadian government had a policy of sending Inuit to tuberculosis (TB) sanatoria in Southern Canada for treatment in the mid-twentieth century. When Eccles made this parka, the rate of active TB was 455 times higher for Inuit than for non-Indigenous people born in Canada.1 This fact, coupled with the reality that this policy led to

Bill Nasogaluak

the forced relocation and countless, undocumented deaths of Inuit over a period of decades, is appalling. By conveying this through brightly coloured Inuit tapestry—creating a story of Inuit resilience on a parka—Eccles roots her story in traditional clothing and ingenuity, contrasting a history of loss and trauma with our survival.

Inuvialuk artist Bill Nasogaluak’s artwork often touches on contemporary issues that Inuit face, such as Seal Stuck in Oil Drum, which focuses on the impacts of mining and shipping activities in the North. The use of black stone for the seal and dark-mottled green stone for the oil drum creates a sense of foreboding for the fate of the seal. The colour and skewed slant of the sculpture give the strong impression of a toxic oil slick, endangering not only the seal but also Inuit. When sea life is endangered, so is our health, our livelihoods and our relationship with other beings.

NOTES

ABOVE (BOTTOM RIGHT)

Bill Nasogaluak — Seal Stuck in Oil Drum 2012 Stone 19.7 × 10.2 × 14 cm COURTESY FIRST ARTS © THE ARTIST

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Government of Canada, “Tuberculosis in Indigenous Communities,” last modified March 22, 2024, sac-isc.gc.ca/ eng/1570132922208/157013 2959826.

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CHOICE

Shuvinai Ashoona Drawing like the elephant

by Lily Rose Grant

Shuvinai Ashoona — Drawing like the elephant 2023 Coloured pencil and ink 105.4 × 127.6 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY THE PERIMETER © THE ARTIST

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CHOICE

Perhaps these shape-shifting beings exist outside of the studio and are trying to prove that, as the piece of paper the elephant holds declares, it’s not only humans who can draw.

Four figures stand before us, holding entries for a drawing contest. Are we the judge? Confronted by their fixed gazes and sly grins, I wonder if these characters are judging me back. On the far left, a figure with bulging blue eyes and walrus tusks displays their drawing of the titular elephant. In this drawing, the elephant walks into frame among easels of artworks while holding a coveted prize—a cheque for “1 million” for the winner of a competition called “Showing Animals Do Draw.” The cynic in me suspects this blue-eyed artist is playing the game: drawing the competition judge in a cunning attempt at flattery. The work of Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, rarely offers clear-cut narratives, and the effect is one of imaginative possibility— viewers are able to build their own stories within Ashoona’s rich worlds. Next to the human-walrus hybrid, a green alligator-like creature peers up at us with red eyes and a mysterious expression. To the right of the green creature stand two figures who appear to be in the midst of human-animal transformation, both showing off their drawings. This moment of transformation— of being caught between two worlds— recurs in Ashoona’s drawings and is a trope throughout Inuit traditional stories, perhaps because change itself is an essential part of human experience.

Three of the works shown by these creatures are drawings within drawings, and within this complex structure, time folds in on itself: a human-bird hybrid has drawn a mosquito, and the mosquito has drawn what looks like an earlier work by Ashoona of two tents, possibly a memory depicting the outpost camp life she led for almost a decade.1 Standing meekly behind the other competitors, a creature holds a picture depicting playing card suits. These suits are common motifs in Ashoona’s practice, and they remind me that luck and chance govern us all. As luck would have it, Ningiukulu Teevee had a solo exhibition at Canada House at the same time as Ashoona’s exhibition at The Perimeter, both in London, UK. Teevee watched Ashoona draw this work in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, and later stood with me at The Perimeter watching others enter this world. Teevee told me that Ashoona tends not to explain her own work, so we are both free to interpret the creatures and their drawings using our own experiences as a guide. This freedom of interpretation reflects Ashoona’s process, which is fluid and unplanned; she lies on top of the paper as she draws, inhabiting its space throughout each drawing’s creation. This method results in a disorienting perspective and means that, compositionally, the centre

is never fixed, always moving. Two small buildings poke into frame from the top edges of the drawing, revealing two nosy heads peering out of a window through patterned curtains. Suddenly, I realize that we are standing outside. Perhaps these shape-shifting beings exist outside of the studio and are trying to prove that, as the piece of paper the elephant holds declares, it’s not only humans who can draw. Their drawings demonstrate the power of broadening a narrow idea of what art is and who it belongs to. The abundance of detail in this work occludes easy interpretation; meaning slips and changes every time I look. At first glance, I had assumed that we were standing inside a studio and that the people looking through the window were looking in from the outside. But I am the one standing outside, excitedly peering in. — Lily Rose Grant is the Collection Director at The Perimeter in London, UK. There, Grant has delivered a program of exhibitions, events and publications for British and international contemporary artists at pivotal moments in their careers, including Sarah Lucas, Joseph Yaeger and Shuvinai Ashoona. In 2024 The Perimeter presented the exhibition and publication Shuvinai Ashoona: When I Draw.

NOTES 1

Sandra Dyck, Shuvinai Ashoona: Drawings (Ottawa: Carleton University Art Gallery, 2012), 18-19.

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CHOICE

Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn Specimen 22

by Phebe Bentley

Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn — Specimen 22 2023 Woodcut print 152.4 × 76.2 cm © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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CHOICE

Content note: This article contains discussion of abortion and brief mention of forced sterilization of Indigenous women. Iñupiaq traditional tattoo practitioner and multimedia artist Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn has a clever way of exposing political or social injustices through her art; it makes you think, feel and question society’s moral compass. Specimen 22, a massive woodcut print she made last year, does just that. In June 2022, women around the world were shocked to learn that the United States Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade, stripping the fundamental right to have an abortion that had been in place for decades. Once the initial shock subsided, the grim reality set in: Western society is predominantly run by White men, who have the power to create and revoke laws as they see fit. Whalen Lunn, formerly based in Alaska and now based in Calgary, AB, responded to the Supreme Court ruling with this artwork. Gazing at Specimen 22, I am immediately drawn to the asymmetrical image of a uterus at the top. This uterus is quite divine. The fallopian tubes remind me of silhouette artwork, like the ones that cover the walls of classrooms in elementary schools. The ovaries resemble strawberries, the kind we pick in June in the Tiohtià:ke (Montreal), QC, area. My eyes follow a rickrack pattern, the same zigzag that trims my atigi, down the walls of the uterus, where there is a foreign rope-like material falling from the cervix, which forms a knot before separating into three strands at the opening of the vagina. I can’t help but imagine braiding them, but this is impossible because they are binding a beautiful arnaq. She appears to be suspended from the reproductive organs against her will, with no way of escaping. Her long, thick, black hair denotes the bottom of the print. The kind of hair that I longed for as a child, that looks so deadly in French braids.

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Her hair isn’t in braids though; it falls unbound, and is the only part of her that is free. This piece is gut-wrenching as it evokes the harrowing life experiences of women around the world. I think of women who have limited access to safe and legal abortions and those who face conviction and medical complications if they proceed with abortions when they are not recognized as a constitutional right. I think of Indigenous women who have been sterilized without their consent or knowledge. I think of myself as a teenager, faced with a difficult decision and wonder how different my life would be today if I was forced to keep the pregnancy. Initially these thoughts leave me feeling trapped and helpless, like I imagine the woman depicted in Specimen 22 feels. But as I sit and reflect on how strongly this piece resonates with me, I realize that everyday people like myself have the power to do more. Collectively, we can foster change by educating our youth—the leaders of tomorrow—about the importance of body sovereignty for all human beings, regardless of gender. By working together, we can mould a better tomorrow for all of our mothers, sisters, daughters and 2SLGBTQQIA+ kin. Nakurmiik Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn for using your art to add your voice to those advocating for women’s bodily autonomy and for a world where women no longer hang in the balance. — Phebe Bentley is a mother, seamstress, jeweller, manager and entrepreneur. Based in Tiohtià:ke, Bentley creates pieces inspired by the nuna and Inuit culture. Outside of her art, education and women’s rights are some of her passions. She currently works for Kativik Ilisarniliriniq as the Director of the Post-Secondary Student Services department and is a former board member of Saturviit Inuit Women’s Association of Nunavik.

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Inuit cultural educator Myna Ishulutak and Charlotte Edmunds ©Dennis Minty

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ARTISTS’ CORNER

Calling all Inuit Artists! Boost your career by signing up for the Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal today! The Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal (DQAP) is an Inuit-only resource created by the Inuit Art Foundation to help artists across Inuit Nunaat grow their careers. Developed by Inuit artists for Inuit artists, this culturally specific online portal provides a range of resources across artistic disciplines and career stages to help artists reach their goals, wherever they are. DQAP is filled with ways to support every Inuk artist— regardless of artistic discipline or career stage. It provides easy access to grant funding, hosts workshops that develop artists’ professional and material skills and offers the

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opportunity to connect with other artists for mentorship and collaboration. One way DQAP fosters connections and conversation between Inuit artists is through a monthly series called Get to Know, which features a different Inuk artist each month. Through interviews, members learn more about each artist’s unique point of view, practices and process for creating. Potential collaborations and conversations are just one click away for DQAP members because the featured artist’s contact information is handily listed.

Summer 2024

ARTISTS’ CORNER

Recently Inuk producer, director and screenwriter Jessica Brown was featured on the Artist Portal. Creator of the production company Ujarak Media Inc. and founder and CEO of the Indigenous mentorship and training non-profit the Northern Film Initiative, Brown has a powerful perspective on the artistic careers of Inuit, particularly in film. The following excerpt serves as a taste of the type of content Inuit artists can experience through DQAP:

COURTESY THE ARTIST

ABOVE (LEFT)

Behind the scenes of Jessica Brown’s forthcoming TV documentary Here to Stay ALL COURTESY UJARAK MEDIA INC.

ABOVE (RIGHT)

What advice would you give to other Inuit creators looking to start their own businesses or find partners to invest in their projects?

Network with other artists and filmmakers who share similar goals. Embrace and take pride in your Inuit heritage. Our unique perspective is a valuable asset, and I firmly believe that authentic storytelling is crucial to share, and that will set you apart. Develop a concise business plan, explore grants, sponsorships and funding options. Prepare to pitch your ideas confidently when seeking potential partners and investors. Embrace setbacks as learning opportunities and adapt to challenges as they unfold. Always believe in yourself. Pro-tip: When creating a business plan, it’s helpful to research and seek advice from individuals with experience in the field. Engaging with industry experts or mentors can provide valuable insights, guidance and practical advice to help you develop a comprehensive and well-informed business plan. How do you keep yourself motivated, particularly when roadblocks and obstacles occur?

Promo shot for Here to Stay

What has been your favourite scene in a film you’ve created so far? Why? One of the most memorable moments for me was when Sophie Agnatok played her Inuit drum on Signal Hill. Despite the freezing cold, the scene was incredibly powerful. Sophie’s strength as she played against the backdrop of St. John’s, NL, in winter was truly captivating and made the experience unforgettable. Roger Maunder and I worked together on that scene for a forthcoming TV series called Here to Stay. How should others reach out if they want to be mentored by Northern Film Initiative? I recommend following @northernfilminitiative on Instagram. We frequently share artist opportunities on our platform!

We gratefully acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts.

Want to learn more? Artists are invited to visit inuitartfoundation.org/portal to read the full interview and sign up for the Portal!

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I find motivation by setting daily goals, regardless of their size, and maintaining an organized schedule. The support of my friends, family and colleagues means a lot to me. When encountering obstacles, I remind myself to believe in my abilities and persevere through challenges. Additionally, I prioritize self-care and spending time with my family, as family holds significant importance for me.

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PROFILE

John Taylor

BELOW (TOP)

John Taylor, 2018 COURTESY THE ARTIST

BELOW (BOTTOM)

John Taylor — Muskox and Calf n.d. Stone and muskox horn 7.6 × 12.7 × 7.6 cm COURTESY INUIT GALLERY OF VANCOUVER ALL © THE ARTIST

by Jessica MacDonald As a third-generation sculptor from the Taylor family, John Taylor grew up surrounded by adult relatives working with stone and bone who taught him and his cousins sculpting skills during their childhoods in Tuktuuyaqtuuq (Tuktoyaktuk), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT. Beginning his artistic career at age 14 has meant that Taylor, now 34 and living in Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, can boast 20 years of sculpting experience at a relatively young age. “Carving runs in the family,” 1 explains Taylor, who sees it as his responsibility to continue sculpting to keep the family tradition, begun by his grandfather Bobby Taylor Pokiak (1927–2005), strong. “I’ve learned so many techniques from my family, like detailing and [working with] different materials that make [sculptures] more interesting,” says Taylor. 2 His piece Muskox and Calf (n.d.), created from a mottled green and black stone, seems to exemplify the relationship between Taylor and his artistic mentors growing up—the tilt of the calf’s head watching the adult eloquently shows the curiosity of youth and the skills children absorb from watching their family members. Taylor often chooses wildlife as subjects for his work, drawing on his firsthand experiences with hunting to accurately depict their lifelike forms. Here the gentle curve of the muskoxen’s backs and the graceful drape of the fur convey a brisk breeze pushing against these animals that are otherwise at rest on the landscape. “We gain our artistry and creativity from experiencing our traditional camping and hunting trips in the tundra,” says Taylor. “As the family travels and continues to go hunting, more and more ideas come to mind for creating the next perfect masterpiece!” 3 In one such masterpiece, Untitled (Nanuq) (2023), Taylor creates a moon out of negative space behind the bear on the right, making room for light to come through the sculpture that mimetically calls to the natural rhythm of light and dark on the planet. “In this Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

PROFILE

piece, a man is telling stories of polar bears interacting with each other,” says Taylor. “The two bears represent good versus bad.” Whale bone was what Taylor had on hand when he set out to make this piece, but it is notoriously tricky to sculpt with; Taylor generally prefers stone, but says he doesn’t find whale bone too bad. Was part of the moon hole the result of a chisel going in a bit too far, which Taylor later turned to his purpose, or was it a deliberate choice from the outset? Either way, it serves as yet another way for him to play with polarity in this piece. Playfulness is also evident in the stunning cribbage board Taylor made in 2023, which places a familiar game on the surface of the waves where a hunter, poised to strike from his boat with a weapon raised, pursues a whale. Outfitted with pegs, the natural curve of the moose antler base both references the waves of the water and creates a small gap between the base and the surface it rests on, a perfect pocket for the deck of cards that would complete the game set. Taylor has exhibited his artwork multiple times at the Great Northern Arts Festival, held annually in Inuvik, Activism & Access

and in 2020 he came together with Ronald Nuyaviak, his cousin Derek Taylor and uncle Derrald Taylor Pokiak to form the Tuktoyaktuk Carving Project. Together they produced a 5,000-pound marble statue about the history of their community. “It was my first time working with a piece of marble that big,” says Taylor, adding, “We all had different ideas of what to put on it.” The cube-shaped work they produced features the faces of prominent past community leaders, topped with a waving Inuk flanked by a sled dog and caribou, both significant animals for sustenance-based living in the area. Recently Taylor has turned his attention to wolves as a subject, enjoying pushing his technical skills further with this more difficult subject. “You’ve got to be careful with the legs, because they’re way more delicate than bears and muskox,” he says, adding that he intends to make them part of his personal artistic brand. “Not many artists have worked on wolves, so I’m kind of taking that.” This Profile was made possible through support from RBC Emerging Artists. 25

ABOVE (LEFT TOP)

Untitled (Wolf looking back) 2024 Stone 10.2 × 12.7 × 5.1 cm ABOVE (LEFT BOTTOM)

Untitled (Cribbage board) 2023 Stone and antler ABOVE (RIGHT)

Untitled (Nanuq) 2023 Whale bone

NOTES 1

Unless otherwise noted, all quotes John Taylor, interview with Emily Lawrence, April 2024. John Taylor quoted in Priscilla Boulay, “Our Story,” Inuvialuit Carvers, accessed April 9, 2024, inuvialuitcarvers.com. Ibid.

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Jason Sikoak, Primitive, 2024. © Jason Sikoak

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Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light

— by Krista Ulujuk Zawadski

Innumerable museums and institutional collections located worldwide contain Inuit art and piqutiit (belongings), yet in most cases, much of it is either not on display or otherwise challenging to access. In this Feature, Inuk curator and researcher Krista Ulujuk Zawadski examines four diverse works made by Inuit and their predecessors across millennia and the four uniquely situated collections they sit within today. Through research and observation, Zawadski sheds light on the knowledge and stories implicit in these works and reflects on the barriers to access she identified while navigating collections of Inuit art.

Germaine Arnaktauyok — First Light n.d. Ink 57.2 × 52.1 cm COURTESY WADDINGTON’S AUCTIONEERS AND APPRAISERS, TORONTO © THE ARTIST

BELOW

Installation view from the Early Canada Galleries, Canadian Museum of History, Gatineau, QC. COURTESY IAF

OPPOSITE

Artist not documented — Weasel effigy c. 500–1200 CE Walrus ivory 1.6 × 5.6 × 0.8 cm COURTESY CANADIAN MUSEUM OF HISTORY IX-C:5219

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

Saqqititti means to bring something to light, to put it on display. While many collections hold Inuit art and piqutiit, much of it may be difficult to see. Most works are held in collections far outside of Inuit Nunaat where they were made, located in museums or institutional collections, which can be hard to navigate for the uninitiated, or simply are not displayed. Even when collections are digitally available, language barriers and unclear categorizations between art and cultural objects make access difficult. These are among the various challenges Inuit face as visitors of our own art and piqutiit. As an Inuk researcher, I endeavour to shed light on four intriguing works—including three that are untitled and made by artists not documented— located in collections around the world. Collecting is largely a settler phenomenon, as Inuit did not have a need to hold and consume many things. When Inuit lived on the land, prior to settlement life, collecting things was not an efficient way to live as they travelled frequently. The penchant to collect things from other cultures or places, to lock them away in a cabinet and display them, was a foreign concept to many Inuit and other Indigenous Peoples prior to colonization. The countless museums and institutional collections across the world that hold Inuit art and piqutiit, often in storage or archives that are not publicly accessible, reflect the idea of “hungry collecting”—a reference to xwélmexw (Stó:lō/Skwah) writer and scholar Dylan Robinson’s concept of hungry listening 1 within settler culture—where there is a ravenous appetite to consume Indigenous things, whether acquired by the museums or institutions themselves or donated through various avenues by third-party collectors. Museums and institutional

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collections, as we know them today, are rooted in sixteenth-century European cabinets of curiosities— rooms that were filled with rare or eclectic wonders from around the world, including tuugaaq (narwhal tusks) that were presented as unicorn horns. Despite no longer solely displaying curios, museums and institutional collections still hold their original purpose: to capture and define other peoples’ belongings while at the same time treasuring those rare and unique belongings for people to look at and consume. Indigenous people including Inuit were not involved in the curation of their belongings in these cabinets nor were they involved in the interpretation or categorization. One aspect of this history of collecting that endures today is the separation of art from archaeology or art from cultural material. This is an unnatural categorization for Inuit, who do not habitually separate the two, and creates a hurdle for those who might not know to search for art in the archaeological or natural history collections. The untitled piece described as a weasel effigy and dated from 500–1200 CE is located at the Canadian Museum of History, which sits on the traditional, unceded territory of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg in Gatineau, QC. An interesting example, it is in the archaeology collection but also sub-categorized as art in the online database, which reflects the fact that this work cannot be bound to a single categorization. It also exemplifies the artmaking traditions held by Inuit and their predecessors long before the modern period of Inuit art started in the 1950s. Made from walrus ivory, the weasel effigy is a carving by one of the Tuniit, who are known to settler archaeologists as the “Dorset People.” The Tuniit lived in the Arctic before Inuit, and they continue to live

Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light

through Inuit oral histories that tell us that Tuniit or Tunirjuat were tall and very strong people. It is known that they could lift large boulders or carry walruses by themselves.2 Tuniit created intricate carvings, often expressive and decorative. Some of the belongings that have been extracted from Inuit Nunaat include small carved faces, some with tunniit (facial markings). In museum collections, Tuniit material is most often categorized as archaeological specimens rather than art, though Inuit would not view it within such a category but rather consider art and cultural material as one and the same. As an Inuk researcher who prioritizes Inuit ways of knowing over settler notions of knowledge validation, I have made it a habit to broaden my search in collections to go beyond what categories the museum has imposed on Inuit art and piqutiit. For example, I am inclined to use search words like “outerwear” or “parka” to find beadwork on tuiliit in collections. I have also made it a habit to be aware of the language of access, as sometimes colonial terms are still used, such as E****o. This Tuniit carving is described as an effigy

Inuit Art Quarterly

in the online database, but that is not a term used often outside of the field of archaeology. This highlights that such discipline-specific language may not be user-friendly for the broader scope of researchers who access this collection, which is one of the largest collections of Inuit art and belongings in Canada with over 13,000 works. The National Museum of Denmark’s collection provides another interesting case of access. Located in Copenhagen, Denmark, the museum holds the largest collection of Kalaallit belongings, as well as the Fifth Thule Expedition collection.3 The physical location of the museum is a big barrier to accessing the collection for Inuit who do not live in Denmark or neighbouring European countries. However, as an alternative to visiting in real life, high-resolution photographs are available on their website, which is available in English, but once you enter the online database’s search engine it reverts to Danish, the language that the art and piqutiit were catalogued in. As an Inuk researcher from Inuit Nunangat, I am faced with these challenges while trying to research art and

Summer 2024

OPPOSITE

ABOVE

In 2017, members of Pitquhirnikkut Ilihautiniq / Kitikmeot Heritage Society were able to travel from Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU, to the National Museum of Denmark to view Inuit art and piqutiit from the Fifth Thule Expedition. Here they examine skin clothing at the museum’s storage facility in Brede, Denmark.

Artist not documented — Watch chain c. 1913 Ivory 36 × 0.8 cm

PHOTO: ANNE METTE JØRGENSEN

COURTESY NATIONAL MUSEUM OF DENMARK H.1163

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Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light

piqutiit that are located in a foreign collection and catalogued in Danish, a language that is foreign to me. The watch chain, or urkæde in Danish, which is currently off display at the National Museum of Denmark, piqued my interest. While I cannot convey this information without further research, this piece pushes the artmaking traditions of Inuit. Ivory chains always leave me in awe of their maker, as the intricate work put into it demonstrates the ability of Inuit artists to meld traditional forms with contemporary appeal. The dot and line motifs—most often found on tools like sakkuit (harpoon heads), and kakiniit and tunniit (body and facial markings) as well—on the chain are timeless designs that would make any wearer look dapper. The piece was made or collected around 1913 in North America, which makes me wonder what the influence for its creation was. According to one of the curators, it was a gift to the Danish museum from an American who acquired it through his travels in Canada in the early 1900s, a fact that underscores the displacement of Inuit art and piqutiit from Inuit Nunaat. Another museum that holds a large collection of Inuit art and piqutiit, though more widely known for its Northwest Coast First Nations art, is the Museum of Anthropology (MOA) at the University of British Columbia, which is located on the traditional, ancestral, unceded territory of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam) First Nation in Vancouver, BC. The museum’s collections database displays 2,343 works of Inuit art and piqutiit, ranging from fossilized Thule Type 3 sakku from about 750 CE to contemporary art, including sculptures and prints. Like with the ivory watch chain at the National Museum of Denmark, I was drawn to a piece that is not on display, as MOA has been closed for an extended period during seismic

Inuit Art Quarterly

renovations. However I located it online through their database called MOA-CAT. The piece is a light blue duffle cape from Talurjuaq (Taloyoak), NU, with floral embroidery along the bottom hem, edged with white fur. Although the maker of the cape is not documented, it was produced during a natural dye project run by textile artist Judy McGrath, who worked with the Arnaqarvik craft collective between 1972 and 1977. During the project, Inuit women experimented with natural dye making, using lichen and mosses found around the Talurjuaq area. The duffle most likely was not dyed by the group; however, the mustard and brown wool used to embroider the floral design around the hem, and the tie and tassels around the neck were dyed with local, natural dyes. Some information is provided in MOA-CAT about the dye project in Talurjuaq as well as two photographs of the garment. Upon first hearing about this cape from my colleague and mentor, Susan Rowley, Curator of Arctic and Public Archaeology and Director of MOA, I was taken aback first by its chic and timeless design and secondly simply because I had not seen anything like it in a collection before. I was not aware of the natural dye project in Talurjuaq but unsurprisingly my mother was and pointed me to the publication about the project.4 Without my mother’s knowledge, it would have been significantly more challenging to find information about the project. A weakness of collections is that they inherently cannot convey lived experience and community knowledge without a strong relationship with artists, makers and communities. Eventually, I learned that the short-lived project produced fashionable garments, including long duffle coats that were embroidered in a similar fashion as the cape.

Summer 2024

OPPOSITE

Artist not documented — Cape (front) c. 1970s Duffle, thread, fur and synthetic fabric 54 × 100 cm ALL COURTESY UBC MUSEUM OF ANTHROPOLOGY ALL PHOTO ALINA ILYASOVA 3211/1

OPPOSITE

Artist not documented — Cape (back) c. 1970s Duffle, thread, fur and synthetic fabric 54 × 100 cm

The last collection is not from a museum but is rather an institutional art collection in the care of Global Affairs Canada (GAC) and located in one hundred diplomatic missions across the world, which makes access to the collection challenging. GAC has been collecting for nearly one hundred years and, according to the the curator, Kerry Goodfellow, has gathered 897 works of Inuit art to date, by 426 known Inuit artists and 124 unknown artists, which require further research to identify. This number grows every year with new acquisitions of contemporary works. The GAC art collection aims to foster connections between Canada and host countries, a nod to the legacy of the Canadian government using Inuit art in cultural diplomacy.5

Activism & Access

Maureen Gruben’s mixed-media piece Breath from 2016, for example, hangs at the Canadian Chancery building in The Hague, Netherlands. It is installed outside of the ambassador’s office and can only be seen by those who travel in and out of the building on government business. While I was able to obtain a photograph of the piece from the curator by email, the GAC art collection does not have an online database, making it difficult to access. Breath is a lungful of creativity and resilience. The work is composed of two thousand square pieces of moose hide, each adhered to a canvas by one single stitch, showcasing the delicate stitches that exude an intimacy between the materials and the maker.

Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light

You can almost smell this piece through the photograph, its delectable scent stirring memories of campfires, smoked meat and fish and the long hours on the land that are essential to the livelihoods of people across the Arctic. Gruben is an Inuvialuk multimedia artist from Tuktuuyaqtuuq (Tuktoyaktuk), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, who often combines salvaged or found objects, which brings to light a self-reliance that is deeply rooted in Inuvialuit values. Further, Gruben’s selection of media articulates the importance of subsistence in Inuvialuit and Inuit lives by repurposing the use value of materials by combining natural or organic materials, such as moose hides. The sheer number of Inuit artworks and piqutiit in museums and institutional collections around the world, beyond the ones named above, means that access and accessibility of collections is incredibly important. It is important to also note that Inuit have been making art on clothing, tools

Inuit Art Quarterly

and other mediums since time immemorial, but their definitions as art are demarcated and created by the spaces and collections in which they exist. Although the Tuniit carving, the watch chain and the duffle cape are not necessarily classified as Inuit art in their collections, Inuit recognize them as beautiful pieces of work that delineate them as art, alongside Gruben’s contemporary mixed-media piece. This makes me question who defines art and who consumes it. Showcasing these four examples here, which are otherwise off display or in spaces that are challenging to find or access, is one way to bring them to light, saqqititti. — Krista Ulujuk Zawadski is a PhD candidate, curator, researcher, anthropologist, beader and sewist from Igluligaarjuk (Chesterfield Inlet), NU, and Kangiqłiniq, NU. She holds an MA in Anthropology from the University of British Columbia.

NOTES 1

Dylan Robinson, Hungry Listening: Resonant Theory for Indigenous Sound Studies (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2020). John R. Bennett and Susan Rowley, eds., Uqalurait: An Oral History of Nunavut. (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University, 2004), 144. The Fifth Thule Expedition (1921– 1924) was a major scientific and cultural expedition to the Canadian Arctic led by Knud Rasmussen, a Dane from Greenland, along with a team of Kalaallit, Inughuit and Danish researchers. Rasmussen and his team travelled more than 20,000 miles by dog team and foot from Greenland, through the Canadian Arctic, across northern Alaska, and onto Siberia. Judy W. McGrath, Dyes from Lichens & Plants: a Canadian Dyer’s Guide. (Toronto: Van Nostrand Reinhold Ltd., 1977). Heather Igloliorte, “Arctic Culture/ Global Indigeneity.” In Negotiations in a Vacant Lot. (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2014) 150–170.

Summer 2024

OPPOSITE

ABOVE

Maureen Gruben — Breath (detail) 2016 Moose hide 152.4 cm × 121.9 cm

Maureen Gruben — Breath 2016 Moose hide 152.4 cm × 121.9 cm

ALL COURTESY GLOBAL AFFAIRS CANADA 2019.49.1 ALL © THE ARTIST

Activism & Access

Saqqitittiniq: Bring Them to Light

Outside the Institution— Other Spaces for Art — by Cass Gardiner translated by Elizabeth Qulaut

ᐱᓕᕆᕕᐅᑉ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ—

ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᕕᒃᓴᒧᑦ ᐃᓂᒃᓴᐃᑦ

— ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑐᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓇᕐ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑑᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᖁᓚᐅᑦᒧᑦ

Couzyn van Heuvelen — Nitsiit (installation view) 2023 Aluminum, resin, steel, stainless steel, pigment, paint and aircraft cable Dimensions variable COURTESY BONAVISTA BIENNALE PHOTO BRIAN RICKS © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Charlotte Qamaniq and Hans-Henrik Suersaq Poulsen performing at Nuuk Nordic Culture Festival, 2023 COURTESY NUUK NORDIC CULTURE FESTIVAL PHOTO DIDA G. HEILMANN

BELOW

Bibi Chemnitz “A Letter From Home” runway show at the Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival, Toronto, 2022 COURTESY INDIGENOUS FASHION ARTS FESTIVAL PHOTO NADYA KWANDIBENS, RED WORKS PHOTOGRAPHY

The act of gathering is a radical one. Policies such as the Indian Act have sought to control and acculturate Indigenous peoples, making the act of taking up space a statement in itself. The ability to hold space in the world of fine art, in other art disciplines such as music and fashion, or to take up space outside of the white walls of the gallery— on cliffs, in abandoned buildings and in shopping malls—is part of a movement to reclaim spaces and reinterpret them through an Indigenous lens while improving accessibility. Festivals like Arctic Sounds, the Bonavista Biennale, the Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival and Nuuk Nordic Culture Festival create places to experience art in exciting new ways, build community and encourage collaboration. De-centring the gallery and museum affirms that experiencing art is not a privilege but a right. Utilizing the land and unconventional spaces that are free to the public democratizes access to art while adding multisensory components that come from the surroundings. These experiences, along with the act of gathering, which fosters a sense of community, are hard to replicate in the controlled environment of a traditional art institution. Here Gardiner looks more closely at how art festivals provide an even richer experience of viewing art outside of the gallery. Inuit Art Quarterly

OPP0SITE

Songwriter’s Expedition 2024 arriving in arriving in Sisimiut, Kalaallit Nunaat, for Arctic Sounds COURTESY ARCTIC SOUNDS PHOTO DORTHEIVALO

Summer 2024

ᐅᓇ ᐱᖁᔭᕐᔪᐊᖅ ᓄᐊᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐊᖏᕗᑦ ᓅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔾᔪᑎᖓ. ᐊᑐᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᓪᓚᐃᑦ ᐱᖁᔭᕐᔪᐊᖅ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔪᒪᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒍᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᐅᓇ ᐱᖁᔭᕐᔪᐊᖅ ᐊᒃᕕᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᐊᑎᖃᕐᒪᑦ. ᐊᔪᖏᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓂᖃᕐᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᒃᖢᓂ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᒥ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᓂᒃ, ᐊᓯᖏᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐱᓐᖑᐊᕈᓯᑦ ᓴᓇᔾᔪᓯᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓂᔾᔮᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᑕᑯᕋᓐᓈᖅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐃᓂᖃᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᖅ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ ᖃᑯᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᑭᐊᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᑦ - ᐅᓇ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᖓ ᓅᑕᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᑎᖅᑎᑦᓯᓂᖅ ᐃᓂᒃᓴᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕈᑎᒋᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕚᓪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓯᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ. ᐃᓄᒋᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖓᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᐱᓐᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂ ᐃᓂᖃᕐᑎᑦᑎᓲᖅ ᐊᑐᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᑖᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥ, ᐋᕿᒃᓱᐃᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᔪᖏᖅᓴᐃᓂᖅ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᖃᑎᒌᒍᓐᓇᕋᒥᒃ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐳᓛᕐᕖᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕖᓪᓗ ᓱᓕᔪᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓈᒻᒪᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ. ᓄᓇᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓄᑦ ᐊᑭᖃᖏᑦᑑᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᕕᔪᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᕆᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᐃᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖅ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑎᑦᑎᓲᖒᖕᒪᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂ ᑕᒫᓂ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᔪᒦᖢᓂ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕋᓱᒃᖢᓂ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᐅᕙᓂ ᒐᑎᓇ ᑕᑯᒃᑎᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᕋᓱᒃᖢᓂ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ ᐱᐅᓂᖅᓴᒻᒪᕆᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ.

ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑯᔨᓐ ᕙᓐ ᕼᐃᐅᕕᓕᓐ — ᓂᑦᓰᑦ (ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᖅᑕᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ) 2023 ᐅᕿᓐᓂᖅᐹ ᓴᕕᕋᔭᖅ, ᐊᓕᒎᔭᖅ, ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃ, ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃᓴᔭᖅ, ᒥᖑᐊᕈᑎᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᔭᐅᓲᖅ, ᒥᖑᐊᕈᑎᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᖕᒥᓲᒧᑦ ᓴᕕᒐᐅᔭᑦ ᖃᓄᕐᓗ ᐊᖏᑎᒋᖕᒪᖔ

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ (ᖄᖓᓂᑦ)

ᓵᓚᑦ ᖃᒪᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕼᐊᓐᔅ-ᕼᐃᓐᕆᒃ ᓱᕐᓴᖅ ᐹᓪᓴᓐ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓅᒃ ᓅᕐᑎᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᒥᑎᑐᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᔪᑦ, 2023

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓂᑦ (ᐊᑖᓃᑦᑐᖅ)

ᖁᓛᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐃᖏᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑏᑦ ᓄᒃᑕᖅᑏᑦ 2024-ᒥᑦ ᑎᑭᑦᑐᑦ ᓯᓯᒥᐅᓄᑦ, ᑲᓛᖡᑦ ᓄᓈᑦ, ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓄᑦ

ᐲᐲ ᓯᒻᓂᑦᔾ “ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᑦ” ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᒃ, ᑐᕌᕐᑐ, 2022

ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨ ᑑᕐᑎᕙᓗ

ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᓅᒃ ᓄᐊᑎᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᑎᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔪᖅ ᑎᑕ ᔨ. ᕼᐃᐊᓪᒪᓐ

ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐹᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐱᓇᓪ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔪᖅ ᐳᕋᐃᔭᓐ ᕆᒃᔅ © ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎ

Activism & Access

Outside the Institution—Other Spaces for Art

Arctic Sounds

ABOVE (LEFT)

Nuka Alice performing at Arctic Sounds, 2024 COURTESY ARCTIC SOUNDS PHOTO DORTHEIVALO

ABOVE (RIGHT)

Lambo performing at Arctic Sounds, 2023 COURTESY ARCTIC SOUNDS PHOTO WINDSON HAU

OPPOSITE

Dania O. Tausen performing at Arctic Sounds, 2024 COURTESY ARCTIC SOUNDS PHOTO DORTHEIVALO

NOTES 1

All quotes Laura Lennert Jensen, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024. Quote from Lola Akinmade Åkerström, “The Sound of History,” Hidden Compass, November 15, 2023, hiddencompass.net/ story/the-sound-ofhistory/. All quotes Lambo, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Arctic Sounds is an annual music festival in Sisimiut, Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), that provides a platform for artists from the Nordic countries and Inuit Nunaat. At the heart of the festival is a desire to create for the sake of creating and to foster connections and collaboration, not just to have a final product. The festival has a specific term that represents the distinct framework for its unique style of co-creation—Nordic Playgrounds—based on a playful approach to serious collaboration. Arctic Sounds was first created in 2014 because of a wish to make Sisimiut a hub for musicians. An important part of Arctic Sounds is being on and responding to the land. “We like to take artists and put them in magnificent places with magnificent people and see what happens,” 1 says Festival Organizer Laura Lennert Jensen. One way they do this is by providing expeditions into the UNESCO World Heritage designated Aasivissuit – Nipisat area’s mountains, valleys and fjords by way of hikes and boat rides, and a four-day songwriter expedition via dog sled. By bringing musicians onto the land and working with local outfitters and guides, “we are also creating allies,” explains Jensen. “We don’t ask them to make art about climate change, but we are showing them our reality.” Arctic Sounds also provides platforms and a stage for many bands and artists who haven’t broken into the industry yet; many artists have played their first show at Arctic Sounds. Out of these collaborations,

connections are forged, as many artists go on to work with each other and record albums in their respective countries. “I was expecting carefree revellers at Arctic Sounds. What I walked into instead was a space for listening to and witnessing what cultural evolution feels like,” 2 wrote Lola Akinmade Åkerström, a writer and photographer who attended the festival in 2023. Lambo, formerly known as 666god, is a rapper, producer and DJ from Iqaluit, NU, who has played at Arctic Sounds twice, in 2022 and 2023. He was part of the inaugural group of songwriters, rappers and musicians from Nunavut and Kalaallit Nunaat who travelled to Iceland as part of Arctic Sounds’ new Aajuik project. Working in collaboration, the artists recorded 12 tracks to make an album together over four days before performing at the festival. The album featured musicians making hard rock, jazz, hip hop and rap all in one studio, and the exchange was fruitful not only in the music it produced but also in the connections that were made throughout the process. “We may live in different countries; we [Inuit in Canada] live more American, [the Kalaallit] live more European, but it doesn’t really matter because we’re all Inuit and we all relate to each other with the same struggles [and] humour, and it makes you feel connected,” 3 Lambo reflects on his time. “The friendship and family that you make along the way is truly what makes Arctic Sounds a magical experience.”

Summer 2024

ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᓯᑏᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᒃᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓂᐱᓕᐅᕆᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᓇᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂᖔᖅᖢᑎᒃ. “ᓂᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓᓕ ᑕᑯᔪᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᓂᐱᖁᖅᑐᔫᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᒥᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᓯᕋᒪ ᑕᕗᖓ ᓈᓚᒃᑕᐅᕕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ,” ᑎᑎᕋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᓇ ᓗᓚ ᐊᑭᓐᒥᑦ ᐊᑯᕐᐅᑐᕌᒻ, ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ 2 ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓂᒃ 2023-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᓚᒻᐳᒥᑦ ᐊᑎᓕᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ 666god-ᒥᑦ, ᐃᖏᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ, (rapper) ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ DJ-ᖑᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᑦ, ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᒪᕐᕈᐃᖅᖢᓂ, 2022-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪ 2023-ᒥᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᖏᖅᑎᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᓛᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᑦ ᐊᐃᓯᓚᓐᒧᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᒫᓐᓇ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐋᔪᐃᒃ-ᒥᑦ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᓂᐱᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ 12-ᓂᒃ ᓂᐱᒃᓴᔭᓕᐅᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᓴᒪᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓚᐅᖏᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᕙᓂ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᓴᐅᔪᒃᓴᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᓂᐱᓕᐊᕆᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᖏᖅᑏᑦ ᐃᖏᖅᖢᑎᒃ Hard rock, jazz, hip hop, ᑕᕙᓂ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒦᖢᑎᒃ ᓂᔭᐅᓯᔭᕐᕕᖕᒥᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᓂᐱᓕᐅᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒌᓕᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ. “ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᕋᓗᐊᖅᖢᑕ; ᐅᕙᒍᑦ (ᐃᓅᓪᓗᑕ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑕ) ᐊᒥᐊᓕᑲᒥᓪᓗ, (ᑲᓛᖠ ᓄᓈᓂᑦ) ᑕᕆᐅᕐᔪᐊᓪᓗ ᐊᑭᐊᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑕ, ᖃᓄᐃᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᒐᑦᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒌᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᑕ, ᐊᒃᓱᕈᖅᐸᒃᖢᑕᓗ (ᐊᒻᒪᓗ) ᑎᔅᓯᓇᕈᓐᓇᖅᖢᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᓚᒌᑦᑎᐊᕈᓐᓇᕋᑦᑕ,” 3 ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓚᒻᐳ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᓚᒻᐳ ᐅᖃᕆᓪᓗᓂ, “ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᓕᖅᖢᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒌᓕᖅᖢᑕ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᓕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᕗᑦ.”

ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑕᒫᑦ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᓯᓯᒥᐅᓂᑦ, ᑲᓛᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᑦ (ᐊᑯᑭᑦᑐᒥᐅᓂᑦ) ᑐᖓᕕᒋᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓄᑦ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᓂᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓈᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᔪᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᒌᑦᑎᐊᕈᒪᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ—ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑦ ᐱᖑᐊᕐᕕᖓ — ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᐱᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖏᖢᑎᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᖕᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ 2014-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓯᓯᒥᐅᑦ ᑐᙵᕕᒋᔭᐅᔪᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖅᐹᖑᔪᕐᓕ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᐅᓂᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᒥᓄᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. “ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᒪᐅᖓᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᓲᖑᔪᒍᑦ ᑲᔾᔮᕐᓇᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᑦᑎᐊᕚᓗᖃᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᖁᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐱᓂᐊᕐᒪᖔᑕ.” 1 ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓐᖑᐊᕆᐊᖅᑐᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᔨ ᓚᐅᕋ ᔨᓐᓴᓐᒥᑦ. ᖃᐅᔨᒃᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᕙᒃᑐ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖃᕐᓂᖅ, ᐃᓯᖅᑕᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓯᒪᓂᖅᐃᖅᑕᕐᓂᓴᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᓐᓂᑦ ᑕᒫᓂᑦ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᐳᑦ ᐋᓯᕕᔅᓱᐃᑦ ᓂᐱᓴᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᓄᓇᓂᖕᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖢᑯᑖᓂᒃ ᐱᓱᔪᒃᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᒥᐊᒃᑰᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᓴᒪᓂᒃ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑏᑦ ᕿᒧᒃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑏᑦ ᓄᓇᒧᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᕗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᖃᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᕿᒧᒃᓯᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ, “ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎᒌᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᖃᖅᑕᕆᕗᒍᑦ,” ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᔭᓐᓴᓐ. “ᐊᐱᕆᖃᑦᑕᖏᑕᕗᑦ ᐃᖏᐅᓯᐅᖁᖏᖢᒋᒃ ᓯᓚᐅᑉ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᑯᖁᔭᕗᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ.” ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒡᓗ ᑕᒪᐅᖓᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᕆᕗᑦ; ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᖅᑏᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᕆᕗᑦ ᑕᕙᓂ

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓂᑦ (ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ)

ᓄᑲ ᐋᓕᔅ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ, 2024 ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨ ᑑᕐᑎᕙᓗ

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓂᑦ (ᑕᓕᖅᐱᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ)

ᓚᒻᐳ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ, 2023 ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨ ᕕᓐᓴᓐ ᕼᐊᐅ

ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑕᓂᐊ ᐅ. ᑕᐅᓴᓐ ᑕᐅᑐᑦᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ, 2024 ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨ ᑑᕐᑎᕙᓗ

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 1

Activism & Access

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᓘᕋ ᓕᓄᕐᑦ ᔨᓐᓴᓐ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᒥᑦ. ᐅᖃᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐆᒪ ᓗᓚ ᐊᑭᓐᒥᑦ ᐊᑯᕐᔅᑑᒻ, “ᑐᓴᖅᓴᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ,” ᐃᔨᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑲᒻᐸᔅ, ᓄᕕᒻᐱᕆ 15, 2023, hiddencompass.net/story/ the sound-of-history/. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᓚᒻᐴᒧᑦ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ.

Outside the Institution—Other Spaces for Art

Bonavista Biennale The Bonavista Biennale is a rural public art event that takes place every two years on the Bonavista Peninsula in Newfoundland. Born in 2017 as a counterbalance to the art scene in St. John’s, NL, with a desire to showcase art outside of the confines of the gallery space, the Bonavista Biennale brings artists from all over Canada and beyond to install their works directly within the landscape, which includes unconventional spaces like variety stores, a slate deposit site, lodges, historical homes, garages, beaches and the coastline. The most recent exhibition was in 2023 and co-curated by Inuit Art Foundation Board Member Ryan Rice and Rose Bouthillier. Being outside forces guests to contend with the same logistics and challenges that many Inuit and rural-based artists deal with daily. The non-traditional exhibition also make both the artists and the audience take into account uncontrollable factors, like rain and wind, or dogs running loose amidst Lindsay Katsitsakatste Delaronde’s Sturgeon Woman Rising (2023) performance. Labrador Inuk journalist and filmmaker Ossie Michelin sat on the 2023 Curatorial Advisory Committee and explains that situating art in this context “reminds people that art doesn’t just live in cities and urban areas and galleries; art and artists are all around us and their art is just as good. Instead of having people in smaller ‘remote’ communities sending their work to big cities, let’s bring this work to somewhere more familiar and closer to home.” 4 Inuk sculptor and installation artist Couzyn van Heuvelen, who is known for taking hunting and fishing implements and playing with their scale, was commissioned by the Bonavista Biennale in 2023 to create an outdoor exhibition. He expanded on his large-scale modern fishing lures series Nitsiit (2015–ongoing). The giant, colourful fishing lures dangling from the rugged coastlineof Maberly Lookout—one even submerged in the water— are playful and feel like they belong. “Watching the installation in itself was performance art— I know that wasn’t the intent, but the end result was just fantastic,” says Michelin. Looking at Nitsiit after it was installed, the way the lures swayed in the sea breeze and clanked against the rocks on the treeless cliffs reminded writer and the Inuit Art Foundation’s Tauttunnguaqti, Napatsi Folger, of being home in Iqaluit and being out on the water fishing.5 Established in the 1800s, Maberly was a cod fishery, so Nitsiit’s placement in this location is a nod to the settler history of Maberly’s fishing industry. As Folger points out, it also draws a connection between Bonavista and Nunavut, where van Heuvelen is originally from. Placing the work on Maberly Lookout means that the art meets the public where they are. “You drive around sea cliffs and you see these giant fishing lures hanging on the coast, and anyone is going to stop and look at it,” says Michelin.

ABOVE

OPPOSITE (TOP)

Couzyn van Heuvelen — Nitsiit (detail) 2023 Aluminum, resin, steel, stainless steel, pigment, paint and aircraft cable Dimensions variable

4 Billy Gauthier — The Earth, Our Mother (installation view) 5 2023 Fin whale skull bone 142.2 × 203.2 × 76.2 cm

ALL COURTESY BONAVISTA BIENNALE ALL PHOTO BRIAN RICKS © THE ARTIST

NOTES

All quotes Ossie Michelin, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024. All quotes Napatsi Folger, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024.

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Jessica Winters — Hopedale (installation view) 2023 Printed reproduction of painting © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

ᐳᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐱᓇᓪ

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐸᓇᕖᔅᑕ ᐱᓇᓪ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐳᕋᐃᔭᓐ ᕆᒃᔅᒧᑦ © ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖅᑎ

ᑯᔨᓐ ᕚᓐ ᕼᐃᐅᕕᓕᓐ — ᓂᑦᓰᑦ (ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ) 2023 ᐅᕿᑦᑐᓕᒫᖅ ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃ, ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃᓴᔭᖅ, ᒥᖑᐊᕈᑎᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᔭᐅᓲᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᖕᒥᓲᒧᑦ ᓴᕕᒐᐅᔭᑦ

ᖁᓛᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᔭᓯᑲ ᕕᓐᑐᕐᔅ — ᕼᐅᑉᑎᐊᓪ (ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᖅ) 2023 ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᕆᓯᒪᔪᑦ

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 4

ᐱᓕ ᒐᐅᑦᑎᐄ 5 — ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᖅ, ᐊᓈᓇᕗᑦ (ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᖅ) 2023 ᐊᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᓂᐊᖁᐊᓂ ᓴᐅᓂᖅ 142.2 × 203.2 × 76.2 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᐅᓯ ᒥᓯᓕᓐ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᓂᐱᓴ ᕗᓪᔪᕐ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ.

ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᕐᓄᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖏᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᑦ ᖃᓂᔾᔫᒥᔪᒥᑦ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ.” 4 ᐃᓄᒃ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖏᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂ ᑖᓐᓇ ᑯᔨᓐ ᕙᓐ ᕼᐃᐅᕕᓕᓐ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᐸᖕᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᑎᓕᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐳᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐱᓐᓇᓪᑯᓐᓄᑦ 2023-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓯᓚᒥᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᕙᓐ ᕼᐃᒥᕕᓕᓐ ᐊᒥᓂᖅᓴᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᖃᓗᒃᓯᐅᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᖃᕐᔪᒃᓴᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᓂᑦᓯᑦ (2015-ᒥᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᖢᓂ). ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᒃ, ᐃᖃᓗᒃᓯᐅᕈᑎᖑᐊᑦ ᖃᕐᔪᒃᓴᖑᐊᑦ ᓂᕕᖓᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᖅ—ᐃᓚᖓ ᐃᒫᓂᖢᓂ—ᐱᓪᓚᑦᑖᖑᐊᖑᖅᑰᔨᓪᓗᓂᓗ. “ᑕᐅᑐᒃᖢᓂ ᐊᖏᔪᓂᒃ ᖁᖏᐊᑦᑎᐊᕐᓇᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᐅᖓᓂᒃ—ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᔾᔮᓚᐅᖏᑦᑑᒐᓗᐊᖅ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐱᐅᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ,” ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᒥᓯᓕᓐ. ᑕᐅᑐᒃᖢᓂ ᓂᑦᓯᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᓄᕆᒧᓪᓗ ᐊᐅᓚᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒫᓃᖢᑎᒡᓗ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓃᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑖᓐᓇ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐅᑐᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ, ᓂᐱᓴ ᕗᓪᔪ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓱᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓲᕐᓗᒎᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓚᓴᖑᐊᖂᔨᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᒫᓂᑦ. 5 ᐋᖅᑭᒃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᔅᓯᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅ 1800-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᑖᓐᓇ ᒪᑉᓕ ᐆᒐᕐᓂᒃ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᒡᕕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓂᑦᓰᑦ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓇᖏᖅᓯᓯᒪᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᑖᔅᓱᒥᖓ ᒪᑉᓕ ᐆᒑᕐᓂᐊᕐᕕᕕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᐃᒍᔾᔭᐃᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐆᒐᕋᓱᒃᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᒪᑉᓕᒥᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᕗᓪᔪ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᖃᑦᑕᐅᑎᑎᑦᓯᒪᓕᑉᐳᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐳᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᐅᓂᒃ, ᑖᔅᓱᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᑐᖃᕆᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᕼᐃᐅᕕᓕᓐ. ᒪᑉᓕᒥᑦ ᐃᓕᓯᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᓂᒃ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᓲᕐᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᕕᓂᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᑦᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᓕᖅᐳᑦ. “ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᕐᔪᐊᑦ ᑭᒡᓕᖓᓃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓐᓇᕈᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᕐᔪᒃᓴᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᓂᕕᖓᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓯᒡᔭᒥᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᖅ ᑕᒪᐅᓈᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ,” ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᒥᓯᓕᓐ.

ᑖᓐᓇ ᐳᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐱᓇᓪ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖑᓲᖑᔪᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᒪᕐᕈᒃ ᐊᓂᒍᕌᖓᑕ ᑖᒫᓂ ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥᑦ. ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ 2017-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᒃᑎᑦᑎᖏᓐᓂᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓚᐃᓐᑦ ᔮᓐᒥᑦ, ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥᑦ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᖑᔪᑦ ᓯᓚᑖᓂᑦ, ᑖᓐᓇ ᐳᓇᕕᔅᑕ ᐱᓇᓪ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑭᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᓕᒫᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᓯᓚᑖᓂᖔᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᒋᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓂᒃᓴᕆᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᕐᕕᒃᓴᓂᒃ, ᑎᑎᕋᕐᕕᓴᓂᒃ, ᐃᒡᓗᒃᓴᓂᒃ, ᐃᒻᒪᓂᓴᕐᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᓗᓂᒃ, ᓄᓇᓯᐅᑎᖃᕐᕕᖕᓂᒃ, ᓯᒡᔭᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᕐᔪᐊᑉ ᑭᒡᓕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓯᒡᔭᓂᒃ. ᒫᓐᓇᓵᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᖓᖃᕐᕕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᑦ ᑐᖓᕕᖓᓂᑦ ᑲᑎᒪᔨᐅᔪᑦ ᕋᐃᔭᓐ ᕋᐃᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕈ˙ ᔅ ᐳᑎᓕᐅᕐ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᑕᐅᑦᑎᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᒡᔪᐊᖑᖏᓐᓂᖅᓴᒥᐅᑕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᓂᒃ. ᐱᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᐅᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖏᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᖃᑦᑕᕐᒥᔪᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖁᖏᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᒃᓴᐅᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᒪᕐᑯᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓄᕆ, ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᕿᒻᒦᑦ ᐃᐲᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓕᓐᓯ ᑲᑦᓯᑦᓴᑲᑦᔅᑎ ᑎᓚᕈᓐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᔪᖅ ᐆᒥᖓ ᑕᓯᕐᒥᐅᑕᖅ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᒪᑭᓕᖅᑐᖅ (2023) ᓚᐸᑐᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᖅ ᐃᓄᒃ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓕᕆᔨ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᐅᖅᑎ ᐅᔅᓯ ᒥᓯᓕᓐ 2023-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᒃᓯᕙᖃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓱᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐅᖃᐅᔾᔨᔨᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᒪᔨᓛᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ “ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᐳᑦ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᖅ ᑕᒫᓂᖃᑦᑕᑐᐃᓐᓇᖏᓚᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᕐᔪᐊᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᒋᐊᒃᑐᕐᔪᐊᓃᖏᓚᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃᔪᐊᓃᖏᓚᖅ; ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᕆᕗᑦ ᑕᒫᓂ ᐊᕙᑎᑦᑎᓐᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑲᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐱᐅᑦᑎᐊᒻᒪᕆᒃᑭᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᒥᑭᓐᓂᖅᓴᒦᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓄᓇᓕᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᖏᔪᓄᑦ

Activism & Access

Outside the Institution—Other Spaces for Art

Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival

ABOVE (TOP & BOTTOM)

OPPOSITE

Arctic Luxe “A Letter From Home” runway show at the Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival, Toronto, 2022

Bibi Chemnitz “A Letter From Home” runway show at the Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival, Toronto, 2022

ALL COURTESY INDIGENOUS FASHION ARTS FESTIVAL ALL PHOTO NADYA KWANDIBENS, RED WORKS PHOTOGRAPHY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Founded as an artist collective yearning for a culturally appropriate space to showcase Indigenous fashions and designs, the Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival (IFAF) has grown into a four-day event that presents Indigenous-made fashion, textiles and crafts to explore deeper connections between mainstream fashion and Indigenous art, traditions and practices. Taking place in Toronto, ON, IFAF features fashion runways, a marketplace of Indigenous makers, panels, mentorships and workshops. “I feel like fashion is an original site of exhibition,” 6 says co-founder, Executive and Artistic Director Sage Paul, “we’ve got a lot of the historical colonial oppressions that would dictate what is and isn’t art, and I believe that fashion was omitted from that to keep certain kinds of cultures, and even genders, out of art as an industry.” Bobby Brower is an Alaska Native (Iñupiaq) fashion artist and furrier born and raised in Utqiaġvik (Barrow), Alaska, and the creator of Arctic Luxe, which was featured in the “A Letter From Home’’ runway in 2022, a celebration of family and a deeply rooted sense of place through fashion. Brower’s Permafrost Collection, shown on the “A Letter From Home” runway at IFAF, is an homage to her hometown, which sits literally on the permafrost. Known for her iconic sealskin print, Brower drew inspiration close to home—the spotted seals that live in local waters are one of her favourite animals. She was inspired to create sealskin-print bathing suits by her father, who would tell her, “Don’t forget to swim like a seal!” 7 A salmonberry print pays homage to the sweet summer treat that is prized in Utqiaġvik, and harpoon-printed leggings are a nod to her father’s vocation as a whaling captain who still traditionally hunts bowhead whales. Sealskin is deeply political, and Brower admits that she never really thought about the implication of a sealskin print debuting in the South. “I wanted to create a sealskin print because I love sealskin; I love how it looks but it’s really hot and expensive, and why not create it into a print or fabric?” Though unintentionally political, sealskin-printed clothing on the runway in Toronto is asserting Inuit sovereignty in determining how, when and who sealskin is intended for. By making the print affordable and available on bathing suits and sweatshirts, Brower brings southerners into Iñupiaq culture while asserting that the use of seal is here to stay. “Indigenous expression is so vast because of the diaspora, so I find that particularly interesting when we’re considering fashion as art,” muses Paul. An overlooked artistic practice in the Western world of fine art, IFAF creates a platform for the public to engage with and participate in Indigenous art at an affordable scale.

NOTES 6

All quotes Sage Paul, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024. All quotes Bobby Brower, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024.

Summer 2024

ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ (ᖄᖓᓂᑦ & ᐊᑖᓃᑦᑐᖅ)

ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᖅ “ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᑦ” ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑐᕌᓐᑐ, 2022 ᑕᒪᕐᒥᓕᒫᖅ ᐱᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐊᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᓕᒫᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐆᒧᖓ ᓇᑦᔭ ᒃᕙᓐᑎᐱᓐᔅᒧᑦ, ᐊᐅᕙᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨᑦ

Activism & Access

ᖁᓛᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐲᐲ ᓯᒻᓂᑦᔾ “ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᑦ” ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᒃ, ᑐᕌᓐᑐ, 2022

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 6

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᓴᔾ ᐹᓪ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᐹᐱ ᐳᕋᐅᕗᕐ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ.

ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑏᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᕈᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓄᓇᑐᖃᕐᒥᓃᖢᑎᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓪᓗ ᐊᕐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖃᖅᑕᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑖᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ (IFAF) ᑖᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐱᕈᒻᒪᕆᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᓴᒪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑲᑎᓯᒪᑎᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐱᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ. ᑕᒫᓃᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᑐᕌᓐᑐᒥᑦ, ᐊᓐᑎᐊᕆᔭᒥᑦ, ᑕᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᕈᓘᔭᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑲᔪᖏᖅᓴᐃᔪᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥᒡᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᓯᓐᓈᖅ ᑲᑎᒪᑎᑦᑎᓂᕐᒥᒃ. “ᐃᒃᐱᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋᓕ ᓱᕐᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᕗᑦ,” 6 ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᓯᕗᓕᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᕆᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑐᑭᒧᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓰᔾ ᐹᓪ, “ᐱᑕᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᐳᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐃᒻᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅᓯᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖑᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᒃᐱᕈᓱᒃᐳᖓ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᖕᒪᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓲᓂᖏᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᒋᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᐹᐱ ᐳᕋᐅᕗᕐ ᐊᓛᔅᑲᒥᐅᑕᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᓘᒃᓯᒥᒃ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ “ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᑦ” 2022-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒍᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐃᓚᒌᖑᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᖑᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᕗᖅ. ᐳᕋᐅᕗ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᖁᐊᖑᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ “ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓴᖁᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᑦ” ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑕᖏᓐᓂ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ, ᑕᒫᓃᖢᓂᓗ ᖁᐊᖑᐃᓐᓇᐅᕙᖅᑐᒥᑦ. ᐊᑖᑕᖓᑕ ᓴᓇᖁᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐳᐃᔾᔪᕌᓕᐅᕈᑎᒥᒃ, ᐃᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᐅᖃᐅᑎᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ, “ᐳᐃᒍᖅᑕᐃᓕᒋᑦ ᐳᐃᕐᔪᕌᕆᐊᖃᕋᕕᑦ ᓇᑦᑎᖅᑎᑐᑦ!” 7 ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᑕᒫᓂ ᐃᖃᓗᒃᐱᐅᕆᒥᑦ (Salmonberry) ᐊᑭᑐᔫᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᖢᓂ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᑦᕿᐊᒡᕕᒃᒥᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓈᖑᐊᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᑖᑕᖓᑕᓗ ᐱᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᓲᖃᐃᒻᒪ ᐅᒥᐊᒥᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᑕᕆᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑦ (captain) ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᕐᕕᒐᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᓂ. ᓇᑎᐅᑉ ᕿᓯᖏᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᓗᐊᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᒐᕙᒪᓕᕆᔨᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᕋᐅᕗᕐ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᖢᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᕙᓚᐅᖏᒃᑲᓗᐊᕐᒪᒎᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᕿᓰᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᔾᔮᕋᓱᖏᖏᖢᓂᒋᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. “ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᕈᒪᕗᖓ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᕕᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᕿᓰᑦ ᐱᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᕋᒃᑭᒃ; ᐱᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᒻᒪᕆᒃᑲᒃᑭᑦ ᑕᑯᑐᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᑭᑐᔫᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᓪᓕᑭᐊᖅ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓕᕈᒪ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᓗᖓ ᑕᒫᓂ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᓂᒃ?” ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐱᔮᖁᑕᐅᖏᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᓂ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᕿᓰᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᐅᕕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ ᑐᕌᓐᑐᒥᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒪᕕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᑕᐅᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᕿᓰᑦ ᑭᓇᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖕᒪᖔᑕ ᖃᐅᔨᔾᔪᑕᐅᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ. ᐊᑭᑭᒃᖠᒋᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐳᐃᔾᔪᕌᕈᑏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑎᒋᓂᒃ, ᐳᕋᐅᕗᕐ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᑉᐱᐊᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᖁᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᑐᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖏᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᓂᐊᕐᒪᑦ. “ᓄᓇᖃᖄᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᕗᑦ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓘᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᓴᕈᒥᓇᖅᑑᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᕋ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖅᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᓲᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ.” ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐹᓪ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᔪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓇᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓃᖢᑎᒃ ᐱᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖑᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᐊᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᑭᑐᓗᐊᖏᖢᑎᒡᓗ.

Outside the Institution—Other Spaces for Art

Nuuk Nordic Culture Festival/ Suialaa Arts Festival Created in 2015, Nuuk Nordic Culture Festival is a biennial four-day arts festival in Nuuk, Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland). With a mandate to promote Kalaallit and Nordic artists, the festival programs artists from diverse backgrounds and disciplines with an emphasis on participation and co-creation. It aims to challenge preconceptions of the region and how to experience art. Festival Manager Susanne Andreasen explains that the festival is undergoing exciting new transitions, including a name change just in time for the ten-year anniversary in 2025: Suialaa Arts Festival. The word suialaa means “a gust of wind” in Kalaallisut. The new name reflects the future of the festival’s mission. “We want to highlight Indigenous perspectives because [Kalaallit] are the majority of the population in Greenland,” 8 says Andreasen, looking to broaden the festival’s perspective as a gateway to explore

ABOVE

OPPOSITE

The opening of the 2021 Nuuk Nordic Festival, where the theme was Angalaneq/ Journey

Nunatta Atuagaateqarfia Mural Project, Nuuk, 2023 PHOTO BRONSON JACQUE

the region. The festival also challenges where and how art is experienced and prides itself on utilizing unconventional spaces, such as a shopping mall, as the festival did in 2019 to make the art visible and accessible. In 2023 Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership: The Pilimmaksarniq / Pijariuqsarniq Project and the Inuit Art Foundation organized a delegation of Inuit artists to participate in the festival. One of the projects resulted in the Nunatta Atuagaateqarfia Mural Project. Located on the facade of the Nunatta Atuagaateqarfia, the National Library, Inuit Futures Ilinniaqtuit artists Jessica Winters, Bronson Jacque (Artist Support Officer at the IAF), Yvonne Moorhouse and Jason Sikoak worked alongside local Nuuk artists Malik Chemnitz and Cheeky. Festival guests and passersby were encouraged to watch the artists at work over the course of the festival, and once the mural was completed, the

artwork became accessible to everyone who walks downtown or visits the library. Abstract shapes that seem to reference whales and seals undulate in the top half of the mural, moving amongst cool-toned pastel waters with pops of sherbert oranges and pinks that stand in contrast to the dark green of the library’s outer walls. The water motif speaks directly to the mural’s purpose to highlight artistic collaboration represented as waters that connect us all despite geography and distance. — Cass Gardiner is an Anishinaabe writer, curator and filmmaker from Kebaowek First Nation. She has worked at many film and art institutions in Canada and the US, including the National Film Board of Canada, Hot Docs and most recently the Tribeca Film Institute. With a focus on Indigenous art and food, her writing can be found in the IAQ, Cherry Bombe Magazine and Compound Butter.

NOTES 8

All quotes Susanne Andreasen, interview with Cass Gardiner, March 2024.

COURTESY NUUK NORDIC CULTURE FESTIVAL

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᒪᑐᐃᖅᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑖᓐᓇ 2021-ᒥᑦ ᓅᒃᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᖓ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᐊᒐᓚᓂᖅ/ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔪᑦ ᐱᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᓅᒃᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᒥᓂᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ

ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᓄᓇᑦᑕ ᐊᑐᐊᒐᑎᖃᕐᕕᐊ ᐊᒥᐊᕆᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᑦ, ᓅᒃᒥᑦ, 2023 ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨ ᐳᕌᓐᓴᓐ ᔮᒃ

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 8

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᒫᑦ ᓱᓴᓐ ᐊᓐᑐᕆᐊᓴᓐ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ, ᒫᕐᓯ 2024-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ.

ᓅᒃᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑕᓪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ/ᓱᐃᐊᓛ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᔪᒃᓴᒥᒃ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓄᓇᑦᑕ ᐊᑐᐊᒐᑎᖃᕐᕕᐊᓂᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᕕᐅᔪᒥᒃ. ᑕᕙᓃᖢᑎᒡᓗ ᓄᓇᑦᑕ ᐊᑐᐊᒐᑎᖃᕐᕕᐊᑕ ᓵᖓᓂᑦ, ᑲᓇᑕᐅᓪᓗ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖃᕐᕕᐊᓂᑦ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᔭᓯᑲ ᕕᓐᑐᔅ, ᐳᕌᓐᓴᓐ ᔮᒃ, (ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᓂᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᑦ ᑐᖓᕕᖓᓂᑦ), ᐃᕚᓐ ᒨᕼᐊᐅᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᔭᐃᓴᓐ ᓯᑯᐊᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᖃᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓅᒃᒥᐅᑕᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᒥᒃ ᒪᓕᒃ ᓯᒻᓂᑦᔾ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓰᑭ. ᖃᐃᖁᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᕕᖕᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᑕᒫᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐱᐊᓂᒃᓴᐅᖕᒪᑦ, ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᓄᑦ ᑕᒪᐅᖓᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᒧᑦ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖃᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓄᐊᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᕐᕕᖑᐊᖑᖅᑰᔨᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᓇᑦᑎᖑᐊᖑᖂᔨᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᒥᑦ, ᐊᐅᓚᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᐊᓄᕆᒧᑦ ᐃᒪᖑᐊᕐᓗ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᐅᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᐊᐅᐸᔮᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᖑᔪᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᕙᓂ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖃᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᓯᓚᑖᓂᑦ.

ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ 2015-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᓄᒃᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑕᓪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᓴᒪᓂᒃ ᑕᕙᓂ ᓅᒃᒥᑦ, ᑲᓚᖡᑦ ᓄᓈᓂᑦ (ᐊᑯᑭᑦᑐᓂᑦ). ᐱᓇᓱᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᖁᕙᖅᐹᓪᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᑲᓚᖡᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᐊᑎᒃᒥᐅᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑕᑯᒃᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᖔᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓂᖅᑎᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓚᒍᓐᓇᖁᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᑐᕌᒐᖃᕋᓱᒃᖢᑎᒡᓗ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᓕᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐃᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᒥᓂᒃ. ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔨᖓ ᓲᓵᓐ ᐋᓐᑐᓴᓐ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᒪᔪᑦ, ᐃᓚᖃᕐᓗᑎᒡᓗ ᐊᑎᕐᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᔾᔩᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᖓᓂᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᖁᓕᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ 2025-ᒧᑦ: ᑖᓐᓇ ᓱᐃᐊᓛ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖅ ᓱᐃᐊᓛ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ “ᐊᓄᕆᒥᒃ” ᑲᓛᖡᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖏᑦᑎᑐᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᐅᓯ ᓄᑖᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᓗᐊᖅᐳᖅ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ. “ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓗᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ (ᑲᓛᖡᑦ) ᐊᑯᑭᑦᑐᒥᐅᓂᑦ ᐅᓄᕐᓂᖅᐹᖑᖕᒪᑕ,” 8 ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐋᓐᑐᓴᓐ ᐊᖏᒡᓕᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᖓᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᔾᔪᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕆᕗᖅ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐃᓪᓗ ᑐᓴᕐᓂᖅᑐᓪᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᓗᓂᒃ, ᒪᑯᓂᖓ ᓂᐅᕕᕐᕕᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ 2019-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ. 2023-ᒥᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓯᕗᓕᖅᑎᒃᓴᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ: ᐱᓕᒻᒪᒃᓴᕐᓂᖅ / ᐱᔭᕆᐅᖅᓴᕐᓂᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑐᙵᕕᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᓚᐅᖅᐳᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒍᑕᐅᔪᒥᒃ

Activism & Access

— ᑳᔅ ᒐᕐᑎᓄᕐ ᐃᕿᓕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᓂᓯᓈᑉᖑᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ, ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᒪᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑭᐸᐅᕕᒃ ᐃᖅᑭᓖᑦ. ᐊᒥᓱᓂ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᕕᖕᒥᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᕕᐊᓂᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒥᐊᓕᑲᒥᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᕕᐊ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᑦ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᐅᕐᕕᐊᓂᒃ, Hot Docs ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒫᓐᓇᓵᖑᔪᒥᑦ Tribeca ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᐅᕐᕕᒃᒥᑦ. ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᖃᖄᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕿᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑎᑎᕋᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᕙᓂ IAQ, Cherry Bombe Magazine ᐊᒻᒪᓗ Compound Butter.

Outside the Institution—Other Spaces for Art

— by Heather Igloliorte and Taqralik Partridge

Over the last ten years the number of Inuit curators working in institutions has grown from very few independent curators to a significantly higher number working in the field, and there are now multiple Inuit who hold or have held curatorial positions at major institutions in Canada. This has occurred while institutions are grappling with their responsibilities to recognize their colonial legacies and include Indigenous Peoples at all levels of decision-making in the care and curation of Indigenous works within their collections. These changes have long been spurred by calls from Indigenous activists but also by successive reports by the United Nations, in 2007, and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC), in 2015, which affirmed that art institutions have a duty to do this work. Since 2015 many institutions pronounced their commitments to reconciliation and decolonial work; in a 2022 report, the Canadian Museums Association and the federal government further affirmed their commitments as well. But what have institutions really done after publicizing these commitments? This is something that Dr. Heather Igloliorte and Taqralik Partridge regularly contend with as Inuit curators with more than four decades of combined experience working as guest and institutional curators. More meaningful work needs to be done to dismantle existing colonial structures in arts institutions, yet in the last few years institutional priorities appear to be shifting away from reconciliation work. There has been high turnover of Inuit curators, and other Indigenous curators, in permanent roles at institutions, as they leave work environments that are not suitable for them. Here Igloliorte and Partridge discuss their experiences working with institutions as Inuit curators, the barriers Inuit face when working in these spaces and what lessons can be learned for the future. 1

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

HEATHER IGLOLIORTE: When Indigenous people are in charge of telling our stories, whether it’s through curation, film or any other medium, it’s revolutionary. We can control our own narratives and diverge from expected content, such as focusing on trauma. We can explore themes that celebrate our joy and humour, our ways of being; we can show art through our own perspectives without having to cater to outside expectations of what Inuit art “should be.” Taqralik, we’ve seen a lot of changes in Inuit art throughout our careers; what stands out to you the most about Inuit curation over the last decade? TAQRALIK PARTRIDGE: INUA (2021–2023), which you curated with asinnajaq, Kablusiak and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski, at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG)-Qaumajuq was a big moment, not only because it was the inaugural exhibition of Qaumajuq but also because four Inuit curators, one from each region of Inuit Nunangat, were there to make connections back to their communities. Your travelling exhibition SakKijâjuk: Art and Craft from Nunatsiavut (2016–2020) at The Rooms was also a big deal, specifically underlining that Nunatsiavut Inuit artists exist and are

Activism & Access

creating important work today. And having asinnajaq as a member of the curatorial team for the Canadian Pavilion at the 58th Venice Biennale in 2019 was huge, because it was the first time an Inuk participated in the curation of Canada’s pavilion. HI: Those were big projects! What stands out to me is also two shows you co-curated with many amazing folks, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒧᑦ / Ruovttu Guvlui / Towards Home (2022–2024) at the Canadian Centre for Architecture and Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak (2018) at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). The scale of these collaboratively curated projects and what they could mean for shifting institutional practices was important—for example, the preparing and feasting of a seal on the floor of Walker Court, the central meeting space of the AGO, is now legendary. And then a personal highlight of course is witnessing the impact of our project, Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership: The Pilimmaksarniq / Pijariuqsarniq Project, on curatorial practice, like seeing Krista curate Nuvisi: Threading Our Beads at Qatiktalik (2021) at Carleton University Art Gallery as part of her doctoral project. The pool of Inuit curators widened and deepened significantly over the last seven years.

Napachie Pootoogook — Untitled (Artist with drawing) 1990–91 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm COURTESY EXPANDING INUIT REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE

Installation view of SakKijâjuk: Art and Craft from Nunatsiavut (2016–2020), a touring exhibition guest curated by Dr. Heather Igloliorte; here shown at The Rooms in St. John’s, NL, 2016 COURTESY THE ROOMS

ABOVE

Pitseolak Ashoona — The Critic c. 1963 Graphite 47.6 × 61.6 cm COURTESY NATIONAL GALLERY OF CANADA REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Making Room for Inuit Curators to Thrive

TP: In terms of Inuit holding curating positions, it was a big deal in 2019 when Jocelyn Piirainen became the first Inuk in Canada to hold a lead curatorial position at a major museum as Assistant Curator at WAG-Qaumajuq and when Jessica Kotierk became the first Inuk Manager and Curator of Nunatta Sunakkutaangit Museum in Iqaluit, the only museum in Nunavut. For me personally, going to Ottawa, ON, as director of the Nordic Lab at SAW Gallery from 2020 to 2022 was also a highlight, because it was the first time I held a permanent curatorial role at an institution. HI: And now we’re getting to a critical mass, where there are institutional jobs for Inuit and Inuit to fill them. Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak was at the University of Lethbridge Art Gallery in Alberta, Jocelyn was at the WAG-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, Reneltta Arluk was acting and directing in theatre alongside her managerial arts career, and now the three of them are working full time at the National Gallery of Canada. Having three Inuit staff at a Canadian museum who work in leadership or curation is unprecedented. Imagine going into a workplace and you’ve got two other Inuit colleagues in the office—it’s amazing. TP: It is amazing, and having Inuit curators specifically is so important. Inuit art is a big deal: it forms a good part of the collections of

Inuit Art Quarterly

so-called Canadian art in institutions across the country and all over the world. That presence means resources should be put towards its activation, and those resources should go to Inuit because it is now time to bring these narratives to light. Inuit have been calling for these changes and institutions have to put action to their words on this. HI: Inuit curators bring a specific, distinction-based and critical lens to museum and gallery work. I know First Nations and Métis curatorial colleagues who work in institutions and they aren’t comfortable speaking for Inuit art and artists in their collections any more than we would be comfortable speaking for them. So when it comes to issues like cataloguing, labelling and updating the spelling of place names and Inuktitut names, institutions need Inuit leadership. I think about these as some of the broader outcomes of decolonial processes in the institution. TP: Labelling problems are very common, whether it’s racist language or a mistake in the title. A lot of times Inuit artists have not titled their art themselves, or if they have, the title is written in Inuktitut on the actual work but the English title on the provenance paperwork doesn’t match. HI: These are just some of the many contributions Inuit staff make in institutions.

A big part of it is just being the Inuk in an institution. Being there to welcome Inuit visitors. Being there for artists. Being there to speak up for what would benefit Inuit over the institution when needed, like incorporating Inuktitut in labelling, or making sure funding is allocated to support Inuit artists who have extended family commitments or who need a travelling companion for accessibility. TP: For Inuit though, working with institutions can be tough. Any advancements that we’ve made as Inuit curators or Inuit leaders in the cultural and arts fields has been somewhat held back by an unwillingness to hand over control of Inuit heritage to Inuit hands. I have seen this across many institutions, particularly those that are heavily involved with Inuit art—sometimes it’s about money, sometimes individual staff, or a lack of commitment from leadership. Inuit should be the ones who are curating the narratives around Inuit heritage, who are telling the stories, uplifting each other. Non-Inuit in positions of power have disagreed with this statement at times, but we should not be afraid to say it. HI: Inuit should have autonomy over how we tell those stories too, and be credited as such. There’s a long history, from Alaska to Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), not just in Canada, of Inuit and other Indigenous curators who

Summer 2024

OPPOSITE

Installation view of INUA (2021–2023), guest co-curated by asinnajaq, Dr. Heather Igloliorte, Kablusiak and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, 2021 COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO SERGE GUMENYUK

LEFT (TOP)

Installation view of works on paper by Kananginak Pootoogook, curated by Emily Laurent Henderson, as part of Conversations: Masterworks from the McMichael Canadian Art Collection (2022–2024) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, ON, 2024 COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION

LEFT (BOTTOM)

have all the knowledge and experience, but maybe not the typical Western educational background that Western institutions have required, and when they come into these spaces with their ideas and expertise, they are still not trusted to be able to curate on their own; the institution is only comfortable if an institutional curator is working alongside them. As someone who is a curator but also a full-time professor, I feel very fortunate to have largely avoided this situation, and I have the job security to walk away from a project if it’s not going well—and I have, a few times. So even though I am always a guest curator, never the institutional curator, I have had a fair bit of freedom in my curatorial work. It wasn’t always this way; I recognize that this is a privilege. But being an independent curator outside of the institution also limits the impact of my work

Activism & Access

in some critical ways; I don’t have any say over a lot of institutional changes that staff curators do, like acquiring art, being involved in museum policy or hiring. TP: Speaking as somebody who has worked in various institutions as staff and as a contract curator, one thing about contract work is that, yes, you don’t have the ability to influence the institution, but also they don’t have as much of a hold on you. And so it’s somewhat more possible to be vocal about your concerns, and also a lot of your time is not spent in the day-to-day aspects of the job. My attitude is that when we enter these institutions, our goal is to do something that will be useful to our communities, even though the framework that we enter is not of Inuit design and not always conducive to the best outcomes for Inuit communities. The institutions are not made for Inuit,

so we have to do some acrobatics to make exhibitions, programming and other events good for Inuit; this goes from how we work with the artists to how we welcome visitors. In curatorial contract work, sometimes it’s almost easier for Inuit—the institution is motivated to treat you well because you bring a specific value for a limited amount of time without the cost of a full-time commitment. If you’re employed as staff, it can be more difficult to insist on the parts of the work that you know to be important to you as an Inuk. HI: I can likewise feel a bit jaded about guest curating because of how tenuous it can be. Sometimes you feel like you put so much of yourself and your community into the work and people at the institution are telling you that they’re really invested in change, and you produce something amazing,

Making Room for Inuit Curators to Thrive

but afterwards no long-term decolonial change comes at the institutional level. TP: I honestly do not think that it is possible to Indigenize these institutions. I think what is possible is to carve out pockets within these institutions, and to fight for having them with as many resources and as much independence as possible. I see the work that you do, striving to open spaces for both other Indigenous communities and Inuit specifically; but that space and those resources follow you. Once you go, if somebody’s not there to hold the door open, what happens? Big picture, what kind of sustained and stable future is there for Inuit artists in institutions that are not truly Inuit-led? HI: As an academic I have access to apply for grants, and for the Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership project, I have used that grant funding to support Inuit postsecondary students who are interested in working in the arts to gain the experience they need to succeed on their own terms. As the Principal Investigator, or grant leader, for Inuit Futures, I have often been the primary funding source for the projects the students were working on, and thus able to set certain working conditions for the Inuit students to get those hands-on training experiences. With Inuit Futures we brought on Indigenous mentors when the institutions didn’t have Indigenous staff and were able to provide the Inuit curators with greater security around the conditions of their employment and the scope of autonomy

they had, helping overcome some of these common curatorial barriers. For example, as the funder, we are their employer, not the institution; we let both the students and institutions know that the student can always leave, take a break, pause their employment, or try a different role without any kind of professional penalty. If the workplace isn’t a good fit, the student isn’t locked into a job they don’t like or aren’t benefiting from; we can always find them something else, but the institution can’t just as easily replace the student because the funding goes with them. It tips the scales away from the typical power dynamic between big arts institutions and interns. I am so very happy with where all the Inuit Futures students have ended up: everyone has become employed or is furthering their education, they are becoming mentors themselves and change-makers. So perhaps we helped Inuit to realize more of their potential and figure out if they want to work in the arts, but did we transform any of the institutions that we worked with? No. It wasn’t even really a goal because like you, I question whether that’s really possible. I’m actually a bit surprised by which museums, galleries and institutions have kept their decolonial activities going on their own—ones that you would think would be more hesitant because they don’t know as much about Inuit art are the ones saying, “Come in and do it, I’ll give you all the autonomy you want and fund you and support you,” while others that have a long history with Inuit art don’t always necessarily

want to give over the reins. Those institutions have done things a specific way for a long time, and it’s easier for them to keep doing things that way than to allow Inuit to lead in new and possibly uncomfortable or unconventional directions. For example, the University of Michigan Museum of Art has been a very keen partner, both super excited to continue to do the work and to keep things going with new curators, new curatorial projects and a widening scope of collaborative work. A part of that can be attributed to the art donor they are working with, who really loves and has a major collection of Inuit art, and so they have funding that’s coming in for this specifically, which plays a role. It can also really depend on the individual staffers at institutions. Take Director Sandra Dyck at Carleton University Art Gallery: their collection was also created by a major donation years ago, but with that, Sandra has created opportunities for Inuit, and she’s supporting without speaking over or speaking for Inuit. She gave me my first curatorial position in Inuit art. Sandra was doing this work before reconciliation was a common discourse, and I know she’s someone who will keep doing this work into the future. I can get cynical, but I’m always hopeful, buoyed by strong allies. TP: For me that’s just a pragmatic attitude to have. Being Inuk, being Indigenous, and coming into relationships with institutions that historically sought to have all of our cultures disappear, or at the very least

LEFT

Annie Pootoogook — Group Portrait (Pat, Annie, & Nancy) 2006 Coloured pencil and ink 55.9 × 76.2 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (TOP)

Installation view of Tarralik Duffy: Let’s Go Quickstop (2023–2024), curated by Taqralik Partridge at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, 2023 PHOTO STEFAN CHUA

Inuit Art Quarterly

Summer 2024

CENTRE

Installation view of Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak (2018), co-curated by Georgiana Uhlyarik and guest curators Koomuatuk (Kuzy) Curley, Anna Hudson, Taqralik Partridge, Jocelyn Piirainen and Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto COURTESY ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO PHOTO DEAN TOMLINSON

BELOW (LEFT)

Installation view of Inuk Style (2020–2022), curated by Jocelyn Piirainen at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, 2020 COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO SERHII GUMENUYK

BELOW (RIGHT)

Installation view of Alootook Ipellie: Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border (2018–2020), a touring exhibition co-curated by Sandra Dyck and guest curators Dr. Heather Igloliorte and Christine Lalonde; here shown at Carleton University Art Gallery in Ottawa, ON, 2018 COURTESY CARLETON UNIVERSITY ART GALLERY PHOTO JUSTIN WONNACOTT

Activism & Access

Making Room for Inuit Curators to Thrive

ABOVE (TOP)

ABOVE (BOTTOM)

Installation view of ᐊᓚᒃᑳᔪᑦ Alakkaajut (Many Things Appear) (2021–2022), curated by Taqralik Partridge at SAW Gallery in Ottawa, ON, 2021

Installation view of ᖏᕐᕋᒧᑦ / Ruovttu Guvlui / Towards Home (2022–2024), a touring exhibition co-curated by Rafico Ruiz and guest curators Joar Nango, Taqralik Partridge and Jocelyn Piirainen; here shown at the University of Toronto in Ontario, 2023

COURTESY SAW GALLERY NORDIC LAB PHOTO KATHERINE TAKPANNIE

OPPOSITE

NOTES

Paulassie Pootoogook — Composition (Woman Holding Drawing 1959–69 Etching and aquatint 50.8 x 66 cm

COURTESY CANADIAN CENTRE FOR ARCHITECTURE PHOTO SCOTT NORSWORTHY

Inuit Art Quarterly

United Nations, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, A/RES/ 61/295, 2007, accessed May 8, 2024, social.desa.un.org/issues/ indigenous-peoples/unitednations-declaration-on-the-rightsof-indigenous-peoples. Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, “Canada’s Residential Schools: Reconciliation: The Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation

Commission of Canada,” vol. 6, 2015, accessed May 8, 2024, nctr.ca/records/reports/#trcreports. Canadian Museums Association, “Moved to Action: Activating UNDRIP in Canadian Museums,” 2022, accessed May 8, 2024, museums.ca/site/movedtoaction.

Summer 2024

to put them in boxes and have them contained, I know there’s always that fraught relationship that will be there. A few years ago, reconciliation became a big buzzword. And people were saying, “Yes I’m going to be a part of this wave and if I start doing land acknowledgements then it shows that I am totally in on this.” But the reality is that those early shows of enthusiasm have not in most cases been followed up with actions or with a long-term commitment to the work, because once you start getting into the tedium of it, it’s not fun. This work takes not only large gestures but also many small consistent changes in everyday interactions with artists and communities, as well as continual reflection and adjustment. Reconciliation is not just something popular that makes you as an institution look good for the moment—it’s an ongoing commitment to work that needs to be done over the long term. Without a profound commitment to this work, much of the activity in the name of reconciliation is just a rhetorical gesture. What really matters is that Canadians, in the Canadian context, recognize that reconciliation and allyship towards Indigenous Peoples—and if we’re talking specifically in the arts, then it’s allyship towards Indigenous artists and cultural workers—is not just words, and that they hold institutions to account when they don’t take action. HI: So how can Inuit support themselves and each other when institutions haven’t done the work yet?

TP: I think Inuit have to rely on our community; as Inuit curators or as cultural workers, we are always conscious of “how is what I’m doing going to reflect on my community members? How are they affected? Is it going to benefit or hurt them?” When we’re working within institutions, we need to rely on community members and our colleagues. I have had so much support from other Inuit working in the field. I think that’s one of our great strengths, and that support is half the battle with an institution. HI: Yes, on top of all the work that all curators do, as Inuit in institutions, we have to represent Inuit art and artists the best we can, be conscientious about potential benefits and harms to community, look out for one another and be the person who intervenes between the artist and the institution. What I mean is, when we create opportunities for an artist at an institution, that doesn’t mean that afterwards the institution is going to feel like they’re in a reciprocal relationship with that artist going forward. But I’m going to be in reciprocity with that artist, so I am going to personally commit to them and try to do my best by them. You have to be an advocate for not only yourself but for everyone you bring into the institution. TP: Yes, I think that is about right. Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory and I were also talking about the different ways that Inuit can translate their work in the arts field into a career, because the institution may not be of value, or it may not be the ultimate value for Inuit working in the arts if they are not

treated properly. It may be that people get money from their local town council to do projects, or sell their work on Instagram, or in commercial settings that are not part of the “art scene.” HI: That’s true—institutions have a long way to go to create good working environments for Inuit. What do you think they still need to work on? TP: Funding and trust. I want to see Inuit curators, cultural workers, you name it, in positions where they are given the reins fully: given autonomy in the workplace, given control of their budgets, able to decide their own exhibition schedule or who they call in as a designer, etc. The other thing that I want to see from all these Canadian institutions is investment. Not just doing this because a grant is available, but actually digging into their regular budget. HI: Agreed. As I said earlier, I also want the Inuit doing this work to have more autonomy. At first we weren’t included at all, and then we were sought out for advice which led to us becoming part of committees or advisories, and then there was a lot of collaboration between Inuit and Qallunaat in institutions; now it’s exciting to see all the Inuit-to-Inuit collaborative work. We need to keep moving that needle forward, along with increased project budgets, more autonomy, more gathering together; and I’d love to see more full-time curatorial and leadership positions emerge.

Dr. Heather Igloliorte is a NunatsiavummiukNewfoundlander from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL. She is the Canada Excellence Research Chair in Decolonial and Transformational Indigenous Art Practices at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, and the Director of the Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership project. Igloliorte also serves as the President of the Board of Directors for the Inuit Art Foundation, among other roles. Taqralik Partridge is a writer, artist and curator from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, based in Ottawa, ON. Partridge’s artistic work focuses on and celebrates Inuit life in the North and in the South. Partridge has held positions as Editor-at-Large for the Inuit Art Quarterly, Director of the Nordic Lab at SAW Gallery, Adjunct Curator at the Art Gallery of Guelph and Associate Curator of Indigenous Art at the Art Gallery of Ontario. She was longlisted for the Sobey Art Award in 2024.

Activism & Access

Making Room for Inuit Curators to Thrive

CURATORIAL NOTES

-miut Mitchell Art Gallery CURATED BY OOLEEPEEKA EEGEESIAK JANUARY 19–MARCH 28, 2024 EDMONTON, AB

As an emerging Inuk curator who has lived most of her life in Treaty 6 and 7 territories in Alberta, Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak has spent a lot of time considering kinship and diaspora as part of her creative work. When she got the opportunity to shape an exhibition at MacEwan University’s John and Maggie Mitchell Art Gallery, Eegeesiak immediately knew she wanted to base the project around these ideas. The result is -miut, an exhibition of works by Inuit, Inuvialuit and Iñupiat artists Atsinak Bishop, Kablusiak, Yvonne Moorhouse, Alberta Rose W./Ingniq and Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn, who live in the Prairies but whose diverse communities of origin and artistic practices speak to the themes of place and displacement. “As someone who grew up outside of my territory, I consider myself living internationally, despite living within the same overall colonial state that currently encompasses both my homelands and where I live now, outside of them,” says Eegeesiak. “My goal was to bring attention to diasporic Inuit living in Alberta, examining how we can still be Inuit in a different place.” Here Eegeesiak takes the IAQ behind the scenes of the exhibition to reveal some of her curatorial processes.

Inuit Art Quarterly

OPPOSITE (RIGHT TOP)

ABOVE

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Yvonne Moorhouse — Three Sisters 2017 Hand formed copper bowls and glass beads Dimensions variable

Atsinak Bishop — Necklace 2023 Beadwork Approximately 17.8 cm diameter OPPOSITE (RIGHT BOTTOM)

Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn — Waiting to Remember 2023 Oil 121.9 × 91.4 cm

The exhibition is also accompanied by a zine that expands on some of these themes with further artwork, which has been distributed to Inuit Art Quarterly subscribers with the Summer 2024 issue.

Summer 2024

CURATORIAL NOTES

How did you identify works for the show? I knew there were quite a few Inuit artists living in Alberta, so I reached out and asked if they would be interested in being a part of the exhibition. I intended for the decision-making to be collaborative, so I deferred to the artists when discussing what works and themes to include. What are the main themes of the show for you? How being Inuk is really tied to place. Also kinship, community, intergenerational making, weather and challenging preconceived ideas of what Inuit art should be. You can see diaspora and homesickness woven throughout, but hopefully the works speak to distance as a challenging yet also surmountable obstacle. Tell us about the exhibition title. When “-miut” is attached to a place name, it means people of a certain place—many of my family members would call themselves Iqalummiut, for example.

Different Inuit regions and dialects are all very distinct, but I learned “-miut” is actually shared across dialects. This title reflects how all of the artists are connected to different parts of Inuit Nunaat, but also other places in the world. How did you integrate language and place within the gallery? I tried to lay the artists out via region in Inuit Nunaat, even though the cardinal directions in the gallery weren’t exactly right for that. On the artwork labels you’ll find the artists’ regions. The exhibition didn’t end up getting translated, partly because I didn’t want to prioritize any one dialect over another. However, the titles of some of the works use the artist’s languages, and to have that presence is really important. Describe the show in three words. Multidisciplinary, diasporic and animate. How does this show challenge ideas about Inuit art? I think sometimes to be seen as a

“real Inuk artist” your work has to be about certain themes and portray certain images. Many of the artworks in -miut challenge these pressures through their materiality and the references embedded within them. The intergenerational, ancestral and cultural influences and practices are still embedded, but not catering to the southern gaze. What’s the mood of the show? The emotional landscape ranges from deeply loving to anxious to funny and into the realms of whimsical or ethereal. Where would you like show to travel? Mitchell Art Gallery is in Treaty 6, and the exhibition is actually going to the University of Lethbridge Art Gallery from April to June 2024, allowing it to be in Treaty 7. It would be cool to see the show go where each artist comes from too. A lot of people can relate to being homesick, so I think audiences could connect to the show regardless of where it is.

Yvonne Moorhouse (Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL) Three Sisters (2017) These copper bowls represent Yvonne Moorhouse and her two sisters, Haley (little sister, little bowl) and Lindsay (big sister, big bowl), showing that while they don’t live close to each other, they’re all always connected. Each bowl has one primary bead colour, representing one of the sisters, but mixed in are sprinkles of the other two sisters’ colours. I related to Moorhouse’s message of familial connection as someone who also lives at a distance from my siblings.

Atsinak Bishop (Iqaluit, NU) Necklace (2023) This necklace is pink, blue and green with a little bit of gold, and the combination of flowers mixed with the blue reminds me of berry picking and the summer. I knew from the start I wanted to work with Atsinak Bishop on this exhibition; my dad ordered my grad regalia from her when I graduated from university. I actually ended up buying this necklace for myself, so after the show closes I will be able to wear it!

Sarah Ayaqi Whalen Lunn (Alaska) Waiting to Remember (2023) This piece captures feeling strange within the prairie landscape so skillfully. There is a palpable mood conveyed by the prairie thunderstorm weather and the person standing within it. The weather is moving and shifting. You get absorbed, gazing at this person within the landscape who gazes ambiguously back. The red almost-bloodlines are integrated with the animals, the land, the garment and the traditional tattoos on the person. It’s really interconnected. Activism & Access

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TRIBUTE

Uriash Puqiqnak

BELOW

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Uriash Puqiqnak at a carving workshop at the Ottawa School of Art, 1991

Uriash Puqiqnak — Female Hunter with Bow and Arrow 2010 Stone, antler, hide and hair 38.7 × 48.9 × 33 cm

Drum Dancer 2010 Stone and antler 39.4 × 31.8 × 26.7 cm

COURTESY IAF PHOTO LARRY OSTROM

by Sarah Deller

Uriash Puqiqnak, CM, had an immeasurable impact on the iconic sculpture style of Uqsuqtuuq, NU. Yet when the artist made his first sculpture in 1975, he did not intend to keep creating art, nor would he begin to sculpt seriously for another two years. It was the start of a journey to become a renowned artist and community leader. Puqiqnak comes from a family of artists. His mother, Rosie Pala, a sculptor, had a major influence on his artistic practice. His Inuit Art Quarterly

first sculpture was made from stone left over from her art, and after her death, he sculpted to cope with his grief,1 using her technique as inspiration. He said, “My mom carved so nice. She took her time. And I tried to follow her style.” 2 The patience he learned from his mother served him well, especially when he worked with basalt, which is harder and more unyielding than the soft steatite. His work was, he said, “sort of Netsilingmiut style.” 3 This Netsilingmiut style—the “grotesque aesthetics” 62

of the Netsilik in the Kitikmeot region, especially in Uqsuqtuuq4—is recognizable by its twisted, exaggerated human forms and absurd, fantastic expressions. The work of the region is inspired by traditional stories,5 something Puqiqnak acknowledges in his own work. He said, “Sometimes I put a little spirit image in my carvings.” 6 Later Puqiqnak “decided to do [his] own style and exaggerate the parkas.” 7 In creating his own aesthetic within the Netsilingmiut Summer 2024

TRIBUTE

style, Puqiqnak “helped define the iconic [Uqsuqtuuq] style.” 8 Puqiqnak’s human figures share facial features typical of Karoo Ashevak’s (1940–1974) and Judas Ullulaq’s (1937– 1999) work—startled eyes, gaping mouths with gappy teeth and flared nostrils— but nevertheless have individuality. He creates so much movement in such a solid, unmoving medium. Each drum dancer seems to conjure up a unique spiritual moment in time; each fisherwoman’s catch is a special triumph, elevated to spiritual levels by the playful, exaggerated movement of her form. Puqiqnak said these Inuit traditions are important to represent in his work: “My culture is important to me. Therefore I like to tell others, and my own people, about our culture through my art. My children can also learn about our traditions, our culture, through my art.” 9 His art has very directly influenced his children: his son Wayne Puqiqnak is also an accomplished sculptor whose work closely resembles that of his father. Puqiqnak has been able to share Inuit traditions with a wide audience. His exhibitions include Kitikmeot at the Inuit Gallery of Vancouver in 1989, Keeping Our Stories Alive at the Institute of American Indian Arts Museum in 1995 and the landmark Art and Expression of the Netsilik at the Winnipeg Art Gallery in 1998. In 1991 he was one of seven artists selected for the first Qatuujiqatigit Sanaguatit, a three-week program for Inuit sculptors at the Ottawa School of Art. Later he returned as a teacher and Activism & Access

“the main resource person” 10 of the program, and by the mid-1990s, Puqiqnak had entered politics to support his community. Indeed he is as renowned for his social commitments as he is for his art. A Member of the Order of Canada—further distinguished by the Queen Elizabeth II’s Golden Jubilee Medal, and Diamond Jubilee Medal—Puqiqnak served as Mayor of Uqsuqtuuq, Chair of the Nunavut Tourism Board, a founding member of the Legislative Assembly of Nunavut and, briefly, Acting Speaker in the Legislative Assembly. His son Paul Puqiqnak was inspired by his advocacy for his community and for making change. When Paul ran for Member of Legislative Assembly, he said, “I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.” 11 As a politician, Puqiqnak continued to advocate on behalf of Inuit artists. He argued the Nunavut government was not doing enough to stop imitation sculptures from infiltrating the market, saying, “We are doing our carvings by our hands and from the bottom of our hearts. But the other carvings that I have seen that have been made from the plastic machine—it’s just boring.” 12 Puqiqnak’s art, with its lively, exaggerated movement, and playful spirit, could never be boring. His art, and his political work, continue to influence and inspire. — Sarah Deller is an actor, writer, director and Inuit art enthusiast. Deller has an MA in English from Dalhousie University and lives in Canada and England with a delightful feline companion. 63

NOTES

Marybelle Mitchell, “Seven Inuit Artists in Ottawa,” Inuit Art Quarterly, Summer 1991: 12. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 “Land of Plenty: Gjoa Haven Sculpture,” Feheley Fine Arts, March 27, 2021, feheleyfinearts.com/ land-of-plenty-gjoa-haven-sculpture/. 5 Dorothy Speak, “Review of Art and Expression of the Netsilik,” Inuit Art Quarterly, Summer 1998: 3. 6 Mitchell, “Seven Inuit Artists in Ottawa,” 14. 7 See note 1 above. 8 “Uriash Puqiqnak,” Madrona Gallery, madronagallery.com/artists/ uriashpuqiqnak. 9 Tom G. Svensson, quoted in Susan Gustavison, Northern Rock: Contemporary Inuit Stone Sculpture (Kleinburg, ON: McMichael Canadian Art Collection: 1999) 154. 10 Gustavison, 1999, 140. 11 Beth Brown, “Gjoa Haven Candidates Talk housing, Mental Health, Tourism,” Nunatsiaq, October 25, 2017, nunatsiaq.com/ stories/article/65674gjoa_haven_ candidates_talk_housing_mental_ health_tourism/. 12 Patricia Bell, “Government Ignores Problem of Fake Inuit Art: MLA,” CBC, March 21, 2003, cbc.ca/ news/entertainment/governmentignores-problem-of-fake-inuit-artmla-1.407519. 1

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Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

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Installation view of Innuteq Storch’s solo exhbition Rise of the Sunken Sun at the Venice Biennale, 2024

Shuvinai Ashoona at Marion Scott Gallery, Vancouver, 2024

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Inuuteq Storch Represents Denmark at the 60th Venice Biennale

Sobey Art Award Adds Circumpolar Category and Four Inuit Artists Make the Longlist

Inuuteq Storch has made history as the first artist from Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland) to represent Denmark at the Venice Biennale. Storch takes original photographs and works with archival images to reflect on the experience of being Kalaallit. His exhibition Rise of the Sunken Sun also marks the first time the Danish Pavilion has hosted a solo exhibition by a photographer. Curated by Louise Wolthers, the exhibition includes an extensive selection of Storch’s photographic works in new site-specific formats complemented by soundscapes and a sculptural element that represents the Arctic sunsets over a Kalaallit landscape. In a statement released by the Danish Pavilion, Storch mentioned the intent of the exhibition is “to tell the Greenlanders’ visual history, not seen through the visitors’ eyes, but through the Greenlanders’ own,” highlighting the importance that his inclusion in the Venice Biennale holds for Inuit cultural sovereignty and expression in Kalaallit Nunaat. Other Inuit who have shown work in the Venice Biennale have been from Canada; Isuma held a solo exhibition in the Canadian Pavilion in 2019 and works by Kananginak Pootoogook, RCA, (1935–2010) and Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, were included in group exhibitions at the Arsenale in 2017 and 2022, respectively.

The Sobey Art Award has added the Circumpolar category to its nomination process. The new regional addition includes artists from Nunavut, Nunavik, Nunatsiavut, Yukon and the Northwest Territories and exists alongside the five established regional categories, two of which have been renamed. They include: Pacific (formerly West Coast and Yukon), Prairies (formerly Prairies and North), Ontario, Quebec and Atlantic. The addition of the Circumpolar region is “to acknowledge the incredible talent of artists from this region and to better reflect the cultural makeup of our country,” says Rob Sobey, Chair of the Board of Trustees of the Sobey Art Foundation. On April 30, the National Gallery of Canada (NGC) and Sobey Art Foundation announced 30 longlisted artists. In the Circumpolar category are Inuit artists Eldred Allen, Taqralik Partridge, Jason Sikoak and Jessica Winters, and Dene artist Casey Koyczan.

Inuit Artists Continue to Win Awards in 2024 In February 2024 Inuk sculptor and installation artist Couzyn van Heuvelen was awarded a $15,000 Artist Prize from the Toronto Friends of the Visual Arts. van Heuvelen was one of three award recipients chosen by the Artist Prize committee for their compelling and multifaceted creative merit. He is known for his conceptual work that explores culture, history and identity through a mix of media. Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, won a Governor General’s Award in Visual and Media Arts for Artistic Achievement in March 2024, widely regarded as one of Canada’s foremost distinctions in the visual and media arts. Ashoona’s award acknowledges her artistic practice, which spans more than two decades, and the ways her work and career challenge perceptions of what Inuit art is and can be. That same month, singer-songwriter Elisapie won the 2024 Juno Award for Contemporary Indigenous Artist or Group of the Year for her album Inuktitut (2023). The album, which is the artist’s fourth, features ten Inuktitut versions of popular classic rock and pop songs from the likes of Led Zeppelin, Blondie and Fleetwood Mac.

Want More Inuit Art News? Circumpolar Artists at the Whitney Biennial

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Artist of the month Pasa Mangiok Skywoman descending from her fall (detail), digital image, 2023

Are you an Inuk artist, creative, curator or arts professional? The Inuit Art Foundation wants you as a Peer Assessor! What You’ll Do • Evaluate grant and award applications for programs such as the Kajungiqsaut Grants, Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award, Watt Scholarship, and the Indigenous Visual Artists’ Materials Grant • Support Inuit artists in advancing their careers. Why Join? • Make an Impact: Play a crucial role in artists’ growth. • Get Compensated: Receive payment per CARFAC guidelines. Jessica Malegana Set in Stone (2023)

Make a difference today! Become a Peer Assessor and shape the future of Inuit art. Find out more: Email artistservices@inuitartfoundation.org or visit inuitartfoundation.org/artist-programs

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LAST LOOK

Nicotye Samayualie Morning Breeze Nicotye Samayualie’s Morning Breeze (2017) immediately evokes feelings of both corporeal and spiritual connection to home for me. I chose to write about a print that does not directly relate to or depict our theme, but instead speaks to what I feel is at the core of Inuit activism and why access to our own creative work as both consumers and curators of art is so important. The lifelong connection to land, water and air that Inuit have is an essential part of our perception of the world and a key element of curating and sharing our artwork successfully. It is why we protect our rights so fiercely and passionately. One of the first English books I learned to read as a young girl was filled with simple, silly philosophical statements— it was called Open House for Butterﬂies (1960), written by Ruth Krauss and illustrated by Maurice Sendak. On my favourite page,

there is an illustration of a young boy sitting in quiet contemplation alongside text that reads, “Everyone should be quiet near a little stream and listen.” 1 Part of the reason why I love that quote and the accompanying image is due to how that philosophy falls so much in line with Inuit worldviews. Samayualie’s artwork is not based on a specific story, nor is it depicting iconic arctic wildlife; it is a subtle, detailed scene of a riverbank. There are no people, animals or any visible organisms, yet the image exudes life. Samayualie’s pale cerulean ripples not only create visual depth, they also evoke the sound of a crisp arctic breeze and perhaps even the hollow echo of shifting rocks as one tries to keep a sure footing at the riverside, maybe to collect fresh water or prepare for a day of fishing. At first glance, the image resembles a biology

textbook cross-sectional view of a blood vessel surrounded by cells. In a way, rivers are just a macro version of that—connective tissue flowing through the nuna constantly humming at a low bass, like a heartbeat. Samayualie’s creative precision and the tension she creates with her intersectional composition notwithstanding, the great value in this artwork lies not only in its technical beauty but also in the emotional moment it captures that most Inuit have experienced and learned to appreciate from our parents and grandparents over a lifetime of unspoken observation. It is a reminder to slow down, sit in silence and situate yourself within a big world in which you are only a very small part. NAPATSI FOLGER

Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti

Nicotye Samayualie — Morning Breeze 2017 Etching and aquatint 79 × 86 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY DAVIC GALLERY © THE ARTIST

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Ruth Krauss, Open House for Butterflies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1960).

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