Inuit Art Quarterly - Gathering: Drawn Together by Inuit Art Quarterly

CONTENTS

36.4

Inuit Art Quarterly Gathering

Front

Features

Back CURATORIAL NOTES

05 Message from the Inuit Art Foundation

64 The Shape a Name Takes curated by Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak

07 From the Editor

TRIBUTE

66 Bobby Taylor Pokiak by Priscilla Boulay

08 Meet the Contributors 10

Impact Update

70 News

5 WORKS

Tiiturumavit? by Napatsi Folger

Roger Aksadjuak by Sharmini Aphrodite

LAST LOOK

72 Padloo Samayualie

CHOICE

20 Rhoda Voisey by Bronwyn Szabo FEATURE ARTISTS’ CORNER

26 Congratulations Ningiukulu Teevee, 2023 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award Winner! PROFILE

30 Saali Kuata by Alicia Bojkov

34 Past Forward by Arnatsiaq Qvist

Three artists—Lindsay McIntyre, Niap and asinnajaq—examine how they use archival materials to produce new works. FEATURE

42 Rooted Elsewhere: Finding Community outside Inuit Nunangat Urban Inuit across Canada discuss and create original artwork about finding community in the South. LEGACY

54 Suited for Sustenance by Ilegvak

For Alaska Native artists like Marlene Neilsen, rebuilding an understanding of traditional fish skin tanning methods includes the vital work of passing her knowledge on.

ON THE COVER

Marion Tuu’luq — Crowd of People 1974 Wool stroud, felt and embroidery floss 132.1 × 179.1 cm COURTESY FIRST ARTS © THE ARTIST

LEFT

Saali Kuata on aerial rope, 2021 PHOTO SAALI KUATA © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Connected (2023) in process in Kale Sheppard’s studio COURTESY THE ARTIST

Gathering

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 Montreal, QC

Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti Napatsi Folger

Vice-President Reneltta Arluk Vancouver, BC

Deputy Editor Sue Carter

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: December 15, 2023 ISSN 0831-6708 Publication Mail Agreement #40050252 Postmaster send address changes to Inuit Art Foundation. Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to:

Associate Editor Melissa Kawaguchi Associate Editor Emily Lawrence Associate Editor Jessica MacDonald Associate Editor (interim) Alison Cooley Associate Editor (interim) Tania De Rozario Assistant Editor Leanne Inuarak-Dall

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

Contributing Editor Bronson Jacque Copy Editor Tiffany Larter Fact Checker Michelle Sones Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Art Director Maegan Fidelino Colour Gas Company Printing Interprovincial Group —

FOUNDATION

Inuit Art Foundation 1655 Dupont Street Toronto, ON, M6P 3T1 (647) 498-7717 inuitartfoundation.org

Strategic Initiatives Director Heather Campbell

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.

Executive Assistant Alyson Hardwick

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.

Digital Outreach Facilitator Danielle Douez

Inuit Art Quarterly

Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette Montreal, QC

Operations Manager Brittany Holliss

Awards Manager Paige Connell Artist Portal Coordinator Alessandra Montefiore

Program Officer Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk Social Media Coordinator Maggie Hinbest

Winter 2023

MESSAGE FROM THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Thank you for reading the Inuit Art Quarterly and for your dedication to Inuit artists. As the weather is changing, I hope that you are easing into winter. The end of the calendar year is a good time to take stock and we are so grateful that you are part of the Inuit art community.

Shuvinai Ashoona — Caring for Creatures 2022 Printmaker Nujalia Quvianaqtuliaq Lithograph 44 × 65 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Gathering

This Winter issue, Gathering, is a perfect companion for reflecting on the strength of our community. I hope you are as excited as we are to dive into this issue, edited for the first time by Napatsi Folger, the IAQ’s Tauttunnguaqti, or, “one who envisions.” Everyone at the IAF has had the pleasure of working with Napatsi in a variety of roles at the magazine over the past several years—first as a Contributing Editor and then as an Associate Editor—and are so happy to read her first issue at the helm of the magazine. This issue is the first that will be guest edited over the next year as the IAQ continues to evolve and change. The Spring issue will be guest edited by Dr. Heather Igloliorte, RCA, and Jason Fox, reflecting on the long, complicated legacy of the film Nanook of the North (1922) and Inuit artists’ reclamation of documentary 5

film in its wake. I hope you are excited for the next year of issues celebrating the breadth of circumpolar Indigenous artistic practice! I’d also like to take this opportunity to congratulate Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette, who joined the IAF’s Board of Directors this past fall. Everyone at the IAF is looking forward to working with her in this new capacity and working together to support Inuit artists next year and beyond. None of that work would be possible without you and your support. The IAQ, and its ability to connect us all to the art we love, only exists thanks to you. Thank you for amplifying new and established voices, leading important discussions and shedding light on untold stories. Alysa Procida Executive Director and Publisher Front

power #ONSITEGALLERY

WORKS BY

Rocky Dobey Natalie King Jamiyla Lowe Khadijah Morley Ekow Nimako Rajni Perera Fiona Smyth

CURATED BY

LISA DEANNE SMITH

WORKS BY

Taqralik Partridge

ᐳᓛᖃᑎᒌᑦ PULAAQ ATIGIIT GUEST CURATED BY

LINDA GRUSSANI AS PART OF THE MAWADISHIWEWIN (VISITS) SERIES

OCADU.CA/ONSITE (left) Taqralik Partridge, Ukpik, (detail), 2023. Photo: courtesy of the Artist. (above) Ekow Nimako, Maame Wata, 2023, LEGO®, metal armature, 64” H x 40” W x 45” L. Photo: Samuel Engelking.

FREE ADMISSION

Jan 24 to May 18

FROM THE EDITOR

It feels fitting that my first issue as the Guest Editor is the Winter issue (my favourite time of year!), and particularly that its theme is Gathering. What better way to celebrate the holiday season than with art that explores togetherness?

Rex Kangoak — Blanket Toss 1984 Printmaker Eddie Okheena Lithograph 50 × 45 cm COURTESY INUIT ART FOUNDATION © THE ARTIST

In this issue we examine art that depicts social gatherings and brings together materials to examine relationships within families and communities. The theme of “gathering” was important for me because sharing and communicating with other Inuit is at the heart of reinvigorating and maintaining our cultures, where they have been systematically erased or repressed in the past. In Arnatsiaq Qvist’s Feature “Past Forward,” she explores three Inuit artists’ use of archival material, from the complicated history of Lindsay McIntyre’s family to Niap’s collaged self-portrait— created by literally stitching together images of her relations—to asinnajaq’s 2017 short film Three Thousand, which turns archival footage into a kind of repatriation of the past. This article centres the idea of gathering both in a literal way through the collecting of these materials and as the subjects of the footage and photos. For this issue’s artist roundtable, the IAQ reached out to four Inuit artists living away from Inuit Nunangat to discuss the ways they find community far from home. Following our engaging conversation, participants Ujarak Appadoo, Yvonne Moorhouse, Kale Sheppard and Naluturuk (Nally) Weetaluktuk created artist projects informed by our discussion, which are featured throughout the article. A practiced hand plays a role in our Legacy, as artist and writer Ilegvak reflects on Alaska Natives’ loss of traditional tanning methods, while highlighting the tireless efforts of folks like Marlene Nielsen, who has been instrumental in the resurgence of traditional fish skin tanning. And for those who love sculptural art by legacy Inuit artists, our Curatorial Notes takes a look at the important work done by curator Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak, who noticed that many of the Inuit art pieces in institutional collections often go unattributed despite having clear signatures in syllabics or disc numbers. Eegeesiak was inspired by the importance of naming among Inuit to pay tribute to those who have always had a name but not necessarily a voice. Our own Tribute, written by Priscilla Boulay, talks about the late great Bobby Pokiak Taylor (1927–2005), her Daduck (grandfather), and his role as the artist who paved the way for generations of her family to continue on his legacy as a master stone sculptor. Finally, my vision for Gathering had to include food and feasting, so I am happy that this issue’s incredible content is bookended between a 5 Works about tea and a Last Look featuring Padloo Samayualie’s vivid and enticing inuksiutinik, Fish Steaks (2016). I am excited to share this issue and the work of all these incredible artists with you, the Inuit art community, and look forward to enjoying the journey together. Nakurmiik! Napatsi Folger Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti

Gathering

Front

MEET THE CONTRIBUTORS

A behind-the-scenes look at the issue The IAQ asked the contributors for Gathering to share with readers any surprises, inspirations or anecdotes about their work in this issue. Here is what they said:

ALICIA BOJKOV PROFILE: SAALI KUATA PAGE 30

“It is always exciting to learn about the influences an artist bears in their own practice. It became clear during our conversation that art was ever present in Saali Kuata’s upbringing—from his father’s collection of cameras (some of which he snuck out of his family home upon moving to Montreal, QC) to his grandfather’s prolific steatite carvings.”

SHARMINI APHRODITE CHOICE: ROGER AKSADJUAK PAGE 18

ARNATSIAQ QVIST PAST FORWARD PAGE 34

“The conversations I had with Lindsay McIntyre and Niap have taught me that through art we can process our feelings, and not only can we point out the wrongdoings from the past, but we can also celebrate our ancestors, our culture and the strength we have as Inuit. Art is not only a form of expression, it is also a form of therapy.”

Writing this piece from half a world away, I was struck by how familiar Shaman’s Muskox nevertheless felt. The work blurred not only the borders of the past and the present but also those of geography. The resonance I felt while learning and writing about it is a testament to its timeless beauty.”

This issue’s contributor illustrations are by Jason Sikoak Jason Sikoak is a graphic artist from Rigolet, Nunatsiavut, NL, currently living in Montreal. Their artistic practice includes mixed media, pen-and-ink drawing, rug tufting and linoleum cut printmaking, producing work that often includes spiritual and political themes. They hold a Bachelor of Fine Art from from Concordia University in Montreal.

Visit their IAQ profile at inuitartfoundation.org/Jason-Sikoak Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

COVER SPOTLIGHT

PRISCILLA BOULAY TRIBUTE: BOBBY TAYLOR POKIAK PAGE 66

Marion Tuu’luq COVER SPOTLIGHT

Writing about my Daduck and our cherished memories has illuminated my path, reminding me that my journey today is a tribute to him and my family. He shaped my love for carving and jewellery making, my respect for nature, my culture and the art of survival—his legacy lives on in every carving I create.”

BRONWYN SZABO CHOICE: RHODA VOISEY PAGE 20

“I found my heart unexpectedly aching writing this piece on Rhoda Voisey’s mittens. I remembered how personal it is to make something with your own hands, especially in the age of high-consumption fashion. It made me dig out some alteration projects that I’ve been neglecting for ages and just enjoy the satisfaction of sewing.”

Marion Tuu’luq — Crowd of People 1974 Wool stroud, felt and embroidery floss 132.1 × 179.1 cm

Check out this issue’s artists at inuitartfoundation.org/profiles Gathering

One hundred and forty-seven figures pack into the frame of Crowd of People (1974), rows upon rows of people differentiated fi rstly by colours of felt—stripes of mustard, ochre and ecru—and then by the embroidery stitches that zigzag, polka dot and grow miniature triangles, circles and diamonds across each person’s outfit in a rainbow of thread. Observed from afar, they blend together into a group of smiling faces; up close, each is a unique individual distinct from their fellows. Marion Tuu’luq, RCA, LL.D (1910–2002), was an immensely prolific textile artist and printmaker from Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU, who created more than 100 works on cloth during a two-decade period from the late 1960s to the 1980s. Tuu’luq was elected to the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts in 1978 and received an honorary doctorate from the University of Alberta in 1990. The vibrancy of the colours she chose and her love of symmetry are easily observable in this wallhanging; the complementary mustard–navy blue combo makes the audience pop, while the seemingly asymmetric figures at the bottom are anchored by white on both sides. Crowd of People has been shown in multiple exhibitions across Canada to crowds of people whose viewership forms an almost mimetic foil to what Tuu’luq depicts in the work. Although Tuu’luq initially described the scene as a drum dance in progress, in 2002 during her opening remarks at an eponymous solo show at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON, she referred to it as a church congregation. Whichever the context, the work stands as a reminder of the importance of coming together and the power gathering has to meld a group of people into something larger than their individual parts.

COURTESY FIRST ARTS © THE ARTIST

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 September 1, 2022 to September 30, 2023.

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

Winter 2023

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 Lea Algar-Moscoe Mary Anglim Stephen Baker Barbara and Vincent Barresi Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Bill Bradley Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron, in honour of Dorothy Cameron Tobi Bruce Sue Carter Kay Cookie Cartwright Dr. Anne Croy Gordon Davidson Catherine Dean Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Paulette Dennis Celia Denov 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 Maxime Fortin

Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk, in loving memory of Catherine Maydaniuk and David Stewart Roxanne McCaig Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Rachel O’Neill Dawn Owen Aarohi Patel Kara Pearce André Picard Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price David Pride Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Eva Riis-Culver Margerit Roger Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Louise Rolingher Kassie Ruth Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell

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Michael Ryan Bruno Savoie Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Paul J. Skahan Michelle E. Smith Yu Song Michael and Melanie Southern Joyce and Fred Sparling Charmaine Spencer David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Suncor Energy Jacek Szulc Jay and Deborah Thomson Emilie Tremblay Gail Vanstone Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas Robert and Brenda Watson Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Elka Weinstein Peggy Weller Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Amanda Whitney Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith and ten 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.

Gathering

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

Richard Sourkes Scott B. White Bea Zizlavsky and two anonymous donors

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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 $25,000–$49,999 Carolyn Hsu-Balcer and Rene Balcer $10,000–$24,999 The Chodos Family Foundation Erik Haites $5,000–$9,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron, in honour of Dorothy Cameron Eleanor R. Erikson Joram Piatigorsky The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation $2,500–$4,999 Patricia and Donald Dodds Janice Gonsalves Charles Kingsley David and Liz Macdonald MakeWay Foundation Barbara Legowski and Lewis Auerbach Paul and Carole Pizzolante Kassie Ruth Frances Scheidel Hunter Thompson The Tivi Family

Inuit Art Quarterly

$1,000–$2,499 Arctic Co-operatives Limited Anne and Don Badke Philanthropic Fund Judy Banning Barbara and Vincent Barresi Gary Boratto Elise Brais Lisa-Margaret Stevenson Bryan Richard Budgell Margaret Bursaw, in memory of John Maounis Gabrielle Campbell Janet and David Deisley Emily Deming Hal Dietz Marian Dodds, in loving memory of Dedie Dodds Arthur Drache CM , KC and Judy Young Drache Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. Patricia Feheley Robert and Karlen Fellows Peter Gillespie, in memory of Ly Solomon on behalf of the Solomon and Gillespie Fund Linda Grussani and Rawlson King Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Jackman Foundation Dr. Simon E. Lappi Kathleen Lippa, in memory of Tony Stapells Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation Susan Marrier

Kathryn C. Minard Nadine Nickner and Harald Finkler, in memory of Tim Pitsiulak Lisa Niedenthal Shannon Norberg and Jarvis Hall Jocelyn Piirainen Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price Andrew and Valerie Pringle Shirley Richardson Sanford and Deborah Riley Leslie Roden-Foreman Caroline Shaw Gail Vanstone Cathy and David Wilkes Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith Norman Zepp and Judith Varga Bea Zizlavsky and three anonymous donors (1 )

Illannarijaujut Tunngavinngmit $500–$999 Jean Blane Katharine Bocking Anne Borchardt, in memory of Claus Borchardt Shary Boyle Tobi Bruce Lili Chester Yvonne C. Condell Gordon Davidson Glenn Dobby and Catherine McInnes My Art Syndicate, Janette Doering ISA AM Engelstad Family Maxime Fortin

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

Alain Fournier Dianne Hayman Bryan Hellwig Mark Hirschman Roger and Margaret Horton Monty Kehl and Craig Wilbanks Katarina Kupca Val Lem Christie MacInnes Patricia McKeown James Miller Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Nancy Moore Charles Moss and Dee Fennner Allan P. Newell Suzanne O’Hara Leon and Sharon Oberlander Martin Pâquet Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Leslie Reid Wendy Rittenhouse Margerit Roger Paula Santrach Michael and Melanie Southern David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Suncor Energy Mark David Turner Nicholas Wattson Jonathan Weisz Westchester Community Foundation Bell-Jacoby Family Fund Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis and six anonymous donors (3 , 3 , 2 )

Winter 2023

THANK YOU

$250–$499 Amy Adams Carole Ahmad and Family Lea Algar-Moscoe Eleanor Allgood ART+PUBLIC UnLtd Stephen Baker Devony Baugh John Butcher Sue Carter Wayne Clark Raymond Currie and Charlene Thacker Currie Philip Davis Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Celia Denov Dr. Sara L. Diamond Kelly Dickinson Tracey Doherty Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais Nathalie Ducamp Andy Fallas Alison Freebairn Lisa Frenette Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Jesse Goodman and Nicole Lurie Deborah D. Gordon Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Barbara Hale Andrea Hamilton Ingo Hessel Debby and Brian Hirsch Joanne Hommik Robert Hurst Heather Igloliorte and Matthew Brulotte Lynn Jackson Patricia James, in honour of Pat Feheley Sharon Jorgens John Kean, in honour of Jenn Kean

Gathering

Nancy Keppelman and Michael Smerza Dr. Claudette Knight Dr. Pirkko Koppinen Mary Kostman Carolyn M. Lawson Ellen Lehman and Charles Kennel Linda Lewis Joe and Sandra Lintz Nagesh Mahanthappa Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Keith Martin Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk, in loving memory of Catherine Maydaniuk and David Stewart Lynne McCarthy and Claude Davis Robert Michaud Yves Morneau and Lisa Morneau-Rousson Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Scott Mullin Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Michael and Brenda Noone Donna and Hal Olsen Dawn Owen Aarohi Patel Kara Pearce André Picard Barry Pottle Mickey Ranalli Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Bruce Roberts Kerstin Roger, on behalf of Margerit Roger Brian Rogers, in memory of Reissa Gibbs

Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Susan Rowley Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell Melina Rymberg, Alexander Davis and Asher Rymberg-Davis Wally Sapach Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Charmaine Spencer Amalia Steinberg Colleen Suche Michel Thabet Marie-Josée Therrien Jay and Deborah Thomson Kitty Thorne, in loving memory of the Davidee artists and to help support Inuit artists Emilie Tremblay Joel and Evelyn Umlas Peter R. Van Brunt Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas Elka Weinstein Peggy Weller Garland Austin Withers Gail Wylie and Dave Wright Mark and Margie Zivin $100–$249 Patricia Allen and Leonard Dueck Wallace Altes Mary Anglim Diana Antoon Frank P. Araujo, for art, for the Inuit cultures and the bountiful interplay of the two

Birgit Bade and David Gooddie Dr. Jim Bader and Merri Van Dyke Catherine Badk Brian and Carol Belchamber Phyllis Berck Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Dr. Catherine Birt Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Jennifer Brown Kaaren and Julian Brown Stephen Bulger and Catherine Lash Rachel Buxton, in honour of Patty and Tom Reid Dorothy Caldwell Tracy Cambron Kay Cookie Cartwright Francoise Chagnon David Cherepacha Shelley Chochinov Cobalt Art Gallery Carol A. Cole Catherine Cole Charles and Arline Crockford Dr. Anne Croy Ruby Cruz Frederick Cutler Adelle Daviau, in memory of Sadie Angelique Daviau Paulette Dennis Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Mathieu Doucette François Dumaine Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg Stephanie Ellis F. Enright Keith R. Evans KC Lynn Feasey Robin Field Shirley Finfrock Claire Foussard

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THANK YOU

Donna Fremont Ed Friedman Susan Gallpen Judith Gavin Glenn Gear Anik Glaude Carole Gobeil Gold Fund (2023) at the Community Foundation for Greater Buffalo Claire Gold Eddie Goldstein Ron Grapentine Jane Green Jill M. Greenberg John Hanjian and Carmen Nowak Tekla Harms Sheila Hart, in honor of the many Inuit artists who have enriched my life through their work Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Tatiana Harvey Shawn Hassell Laurie Herd Brittany Holliss Jane Horner Warren Howard David Humphrey Aphantasia Indigo Jeannette Jackson-Thompson, in memory of Richard C. Thompson Amy Jenkins Anne and John Jones The Josie Family Melinda Josie Rozanne Junker Anne Kearns Anne Louise Kelly Karen Kimmett Jo-Ann Kolmes M. A. Konantz Lawrence and Joyce Lacroix Kathryn Lagrandeur Le Grand Élan Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Gordon Leggett Jacob Lewis Jacqueline Littlewood Marilyn and Daryl Logan Denis Longchamps

Inuit Art Quarterly

Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Peter Malkin Kathy Mallett, in memory of parents John and Alice Dr. Neil and Elaine Margolis The Honourable Paul Mayer Jim Mayerle Roxanne McCaig Alison and Bruce McDonald Dr. Michelle McGeough John A. McKendry Phyllis McKinnon Colette Meehan David Muir Iet Muylwyk Quirien Muylwyk Gary Nelson Elizabeth O’Grady, in honour of Jennipher Kean Rachel O’Neill Patrick Odier Marina Oeler Dr. Robert Olson Bonnie Park Penny Pattinson Kate Permut Ed Pien Richard and Annette Pivnick David Pride David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Micky Renders, in honour of Kim Renders Ron and Sigrid Rhodes Anita Romaniuk Barry Rosenberg Gabriel J. Rosenberg Margaret Rundall Michael Ryan Lynne B. Sagalyn Bruno Savoie Mark Shiner Paul J. Skahan Michelle E. Smith Yu Song Richard Sourkes Joyce and Fred Sparling Harriet Stairs Elizabeth Steinbrueck Jennifer Stoots Sun Life Financial Jacek Szulc Pauline Taggart

Charles and Carol Tator Carol J. Thrun Diana Trafford Joan R. Truckenbrod Vancity Community Foundation - Dr. Hinda Avery Foundation Fund James and Louise Vesper Patrizia Villani James and Karen Walton Robert and Brenda Watson John Weber, in memory of Mary MacDonald Gord and Laurie Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Scott B. White Amanda Whitney Darlene Coward Wight Robert Wolf and 15 anonymous donors (4 , 1 , 4 , 2 ) Up to $99 Ariel Ahearn-Ligham Annie Akpaliapik Sue Asquith Oliver Aygun Neeraj Bahl Maddie Beaulieu Manon Bertrand Mitch Birken Monica Bradford-Lea Bill Bradley Nancy L. Brennan Cedric Brodin Kevin Burns Michelle Coyne Dennis Crowley Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif Anna De Aguayo Catherine Dean Sharon Dembo Hilary Dickson Simone Dionne-Rancourt Amy Ede Jane F. Ely Pat English Yasemin Eroglu David Feiglin Jan Fergus Chun Fong Ronald and Anne Foster

Joana Fraga Paula Frisch JoAnne and Richard Fuerst Hannah Gifford Ariel Godwin Peggy Gorman Nelson Graburn, in honour of Aisaki Pallayat Sallumiut Catherine Grant, in honour of Tom McNulty Kristine Greenaway Susan C. Griswold Mark Gustafson Alyson Hardwick, on behalf of Delphine Shiwak Clive Harvey Kathryn Heller-McRoberts Rick Hiebert TJ Holmes Albert and Femmeke Holthuis Andrew Hubbertz Shari Huhndorf Glenys Huws Lily Jackson, in honour of Lorna Jackson Celina Jeffery Janique Johnson-Lafleur Brian Judd Jennifer Kennedy David Kerr Alia Khan Elizabeth Kocmur Martina Landry Mary Lawrence Breinig William Lee Marion Lord Catherine Madsen Geraldine and Peter Marshall Peter Allan McKitrick Mary McLaren Sean McMahon Stanley Middlestadt Melanie Milanich Peter Murphy Jennifer Nadeau Susan Newlove Peter Noteboom Keitrah Oakley Lauriane Ouellet Erin Palmer, in memory of Joan “Colly” Scullion Douglas Palmerton

Winter 2023

THANK YOU

Annie Paquin Naomi Pauls Krystal Pidborochynski Felicity Pope Steve Potocny Sharlene Rankin Diane Ravenscroft Elizabeth Robinson Marilyn Robinson Henrietta Roi

Irene Rokaw Louise Rolingher Richard and Yvonne Rothenberg Kathryn Scott Jeffrey Seidman David and Lesley Serkoak Paul Shackel and Barbara Little sk

Elizabeth C. Smeloff Fiona Snow Janet L. Sponagle Karen Thorne-Stone Matt Traversy Feliz Tupe Safina Vesuna Jon L. Vickery, MD Charles Voirin Grace Voisey Clark

Maarten Vonhof Milly Walker Nancy Walkling, in memory of Frank O. Walkling Garnet Ward Mark and Margaret Whitley William Wood And 15 anonymous donors (3 , 4 , 1 , 3 )

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, visit us online at inuitartfoundation.org/ways-to-give or simply scan the QR code to the left.

Gathering

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5 WORKS

Tiiturumavit? by Napatsi Folger GUEST EDITOR AND TAUTTUNNGUAQTI

Tea is ubiquitous in the North. Whether you’re drinking it at the kitchen table on a quiet afternoon or sipping out of your anaanatsiaq’s chipped enamel camping cup on a windy morning, tea is the drink. Some Inuit are Tetley folk, some Red Rose and many enjoy locally gathered teas, but, whatever your flavour, you can always count on a good time with family and friends if you are asked, “Tiiturumavit?” 2/

Josie Nulukie

Boiling Water to Make Tea (c. 1953–63) When I was a kid I desperately wanted to be a traditional Inuk who lived in tents and iglus who wore an amauti and picked berries. I would build stone hearths—badly—on the hills behind our houses in Niaqunnguu, a suburb of Iqaluit, NU. This detailed sculpture by Inukjuak, Nunavik, QC, artist Josie Nulukie (1931–1980) seemingly plucked itself right out of my childhood fantasies. He depicts a woman about to light her qulliq to boil water for tea. This scene is the picture of patience, with the woman and child frozen in steatite, forever anticipating the moment they can take that first scalding sip.

Annie Pootoogook

Tea Drinkers (2001–02) Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016) is often touted as an icon of contemporary Inuit art, known for her fearless expression of real Inuit life. In her drawing Tea Drinkers she sets the scene beautifully for a typical day in an Inuit household. At first glance the image seems a little crowded, but when my eyes settle I notice the

small details. Atop the magnet-clad fridge is a radio—I can just hear the CBC North broadcast, a low din in the background of the conversation between the men at the table. On the countertop sits tea, coffee and flour canisters and above them on top of the dated cabinetry are plastic flowers. This house is an Inuk home. ABOVE

Annie Pootoogook — Tea Drinkers 2001–02 Coloured pencil 51 × 66 cm

Josie Nulukie — Boiling Water to Make Tea c. 1953–63 Steatite, plastic, leather, wire and wood 20.8 × 36 × 24 cm

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO ERNEST MAYER © THE ARTIST

CHEDOKE COLLECTION OF INUIT ART COURTESY ART GALLERY OF HAMILTON © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Inuit Art Quarterly

OPPOSITE (LEFT TOP)

Gyta Eeseemailee — Tea Break 1994 Stencil 39 × 65 cm COURTESY DAVIC GALLERY © THE ARTIST

Winter 2023

5 WORKS

Tea Break (1994)

Communi-tea (2007)

Michael Massie, CM, RCA

Gyta Eeseemailee

Nunatsiavut artist Michael Massie, CM, RCA, has a playful nature. You can see it in his artwork and in his titles, too. Communi-tea combines wood, brass, caribou antler and artificial sinew woven together into a unique piece with an ornately carved man fighting a bear attached to the side of the pot. Though Massie tries as often as possible to have his teapots hold actual liquid, this stitched pot’s primary function is beauty and metaphor. Over the last 30 years Massie has created more than 100 mixed-media teapots, and this piece is a nod to the traditional sewing and hunting that sustained Massie’s ancestors for generations.

Much like our favourite hot beverage, Gyta Eeseemailee’s stencil prints are a staple in homes throughout Nunavut’s Qikiqtaaluk Region. If you walk into a house in Iqaluit or Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung), chances are you’ll encounter an Eeseemailee print or a locally made wallhanging inspired by his distinctive style. In his 1994 print Tea Break,

Eeseemailee protects these hunters from the wind while framing them against baby-blue snow blocks. They stand out from the neutral foreground with gradients of purple in their clothing. I am happy to see that the hunters are taking a well-deserved tea break before disembarking again, having warmed up with a cup or two.

Mary Okheena

Midnight Tea (1989) From Nunatsiavut to the Western Arctic, tea plays a role spanning all of Inuit Nunangat. Here Mary Okheena of Ulukhaktok, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, shows a rare but beautiful summer setting. Okheena’s mother and child mirror the hues of the midnight sky in vivid pinks and deep violet. Sandwiched between the two bursts of colour are stoked flames and a warming pot. Okheena’s print reminds us that it is always tea season in the North, and that some of the best moments are those spent snuggled up with a loved one, sitting in sweet anticipation of a steaming cuppa. Gathering

LEFT (BOTTOM)

Mary Okheena — Midnight Tea 1989 Stencil 50 × 51 cm COURTESY INUIT ART FOUNDATION © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Michael Massie — Communi-tea 2007 Oak, brass, caribou antler and artificial sinew 23.5 × 30.5 × 8.9 cm COURTESY SPIRIT WRESTLER GALLERY © THE ARTIST

Front

CHOICE

Roger Aksadjuak Shaman’s Muskox

by Sharmini Aphrodite

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

CHOICE

While the sculpture itself has long been hardened and set, its sense of movement defies ideas of history as static or linear. Multiple lives emerge from and are folded within the muskox, illustrating the circularity of time.

Roger Aksadjuak’s (1972–2014) Shaman’s Muskox (n.d.) is a work that demonstrates how the life of a muskox exceeds its lifespan. The animal’s wool is hardy and resilient and its meat provides sustenance, aiding Inuit for centuries. Aksadjuak’s muskox is a storyteller: other animals arise from its pelt, as do people, who hold up qulliit to the viewer. I imagine this continuing a dialogue that began with the stories Aksadjuak was told as a child, in the gestures his father, ceramicist Laurent Aksadjuak (1935–2002), likely taught him when he introduced him to the craft. One imagines an earlier stage of the sculpture, still soft, still pliable, being placed into the kiln before being hardened by fire and emerging with smoke that glitters before it fades into the air. Aksadjuak’s formal training began with the ceramics program held at the Matchbox Gallery in Kangiqliniq, NU, through the late 1980s and early ’90s, but the artist first received instruction from his father, who, during the 1960s, attended government-run workshops in the area. Shaman’s Muskox is undated but it melds timelessly into Aksadjuak’s oeuvre, which features evocative pieces drawn from the landscape—frolicking polar bears, seals rising from an unseen sea. Ceramics had a contested beginning in the world of Inuit art. Despite a body of energetic work, earlier artists faced issues with funding and government support, particularly in the 1970s: their work was thought of as too experimental—“wild, funny, and fierce,” 1 —which made it difficult to ease into a market that ran on the need for predictability and a more subdued visual vocabulary. It was also thought that collectors did not think of ceramic as a “traditional” material, rendering the works inauthentic in their eyes.2 However, early Inuit ceramicists such as Pie Kukshout

(1911–1980) and Michael Kusugak were not making an irrevocable break from tradition—merely adding to its evolution. Shaman’s Muskox speaks to this desire to not only look back at the past, but braid it into the present. While the sculpture itself has long been hardened and set, its sense of movement defies ideas of history as static or linear. Multiple lives emerge from and are folded within the muskox, illustrating the circularity of time. We have an animal similar to the muskox in Sabah, a state in Malaysian Borneo, where half of my family is from. It is the water buffalo, an animal that is still seen often in rural Southeast Asia, and which was used before the introduction of machinery in the later twentieth century to sow and harvest rice. Both the buffalo and rice are said to have bambarayon, a spiritual essence that is also what people emerge from and carry within them. Buffaloes are not just a symbolic, heralded creature; they live alongside us, working with us, dying with us. This ritual labour is also a form of worship and it is this worship that I see present in Shaman’s Muskox—moulded by Aksadjuak’s hands that remember his father’s instruction, fired in a communal kiln and carrying stories passed down across generations. — Sharmini Aphrodite was born in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia, and raised between the cities of Singapore and Johor Bahru, Johor, Malaysia. Her short fiction was shortlisted for the 2020 Commonwealth Short Story Prize and placed second for the 2018 Australian Book Review Jolley Prize. Her writing on art, literature and history can be found online.

NOTES

Shary Boyle, “Keeping Up with the Ceramic Artists of Kangiqliniq,” IAQ Online, July 29, 2020, inuitartfoundation.org/iaq-online/keeping-upwith-the-ceramic-artists-of-kangiqliniq. 2 Ibid. 1

Gathering

Roger Aksadjuak — Shaman’s Muskox n.d. Smoke-fired stoneware 30.5 × 50 × 23 cm COURTESY ESKER FOUNDATION PHOTO M. N. HUTCHINSON © THE ARTIST

Front

CHOICE

Rhoda Voisey Skin and Hide Gauntlet Mittens

by Bronwyn Szabo

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

CHOICE

I have fallen in love. As an aspiring fashionista, it happens often. Enough so that I recognize when a beautiful garment demands to be admired more than worn— even when it quietly threatens to not love you back, like my own gorgeous open-toed wedding shoes, which pinched me all night until I bled. But when a fashion item is beautiful and comfortable? That’s a special kind of love, and that’s what I see in these mittens made by Nunatsiavut artist Rhoda Voisey (1924–2013). These mittens beg to be tried on. I can practically feel their siren call, tempting me to stroke their silky sealskin. What’s impressive about the design is that while Voisey obviously valued aesthetics, she clearly kept the wearer in mind, too, with that separate compartment for an index finger. While I adore my own sealskin mittens, they sometimes make me feel like I’m going to a boxing class—an independent pointer finger with the grip of a supple grained leather would be a big help. As a sometimes-sewer myself, I know that the acute V between the two finger compartments of Voisey’s mittens was no walk in the park to sew. And oh my god—the cuffs. I want to just pour my hands into the inviting funnel shapes so my wrists can be haloed by these decorated stunners. You have to admire the marriage of embellishment and practicality. There’s no confusion with these mittens: your coat sleeves go inside them, nice and snug and warm, so absolutely no cold air or melting snow makes contact with your skin. But Voisey wouldn’t expect you to do something practical, like keeping your wrists warm, without giving you a little treat in the form of a beautiful, solely aesthetic flower. The mittens would be handsome even without those four symmetrical petals, accentuated with red beads like a perfect touch of lipstick. Did she just have leftover scraps of precious sealskin, and in the spirit of Inuit livelihood, decide not to waste them? How many

designs did she cycle through before landing on the harmonious triangular composition that fills out that cuff? The more I study these mittens, the more they reveal how much love and intention was poured into every detail. Look at the tiny leather fringe: the slight variation in its slants and its zigzag edge suggest she did not create this with pinking shears. She meticulously cut this fringe by hand. How long did that take her and how good was her eyesight? How spry were her hands at that time to play that game of millimetres? For that matter, how many needle pricks did she receive from painstakingly pushing a needle through a tough material like leather? And did she purposely pattern-cut the left mitten so the special dark spots in the fur were maximized? They are suspiciously close to seams without being cut off, a definite sign of luxury. She could have lost a spot and no one would have known. So why did she undertake all this labour? In the craftsmanship, the reverence for the materials, the beauty and wearability of their design and the cultural tradition that they speak to, you can tell Voisey doted on these mittens as she made them. They were made to be so much more than art, more than just an object to be lived in. Whether Voisey made them for someone in particular, or for herself, or in an act of passing on her culture or maybe just for the act of creating, these mittens are an expression of love. — Bronwyn Szabo is a filmmaker, writer and professional actor. She was introduced to the necessity and power of storytelling at Straeon Acting Studios in 2006, and has been cultivating her crafts ever since. She made her directorial debut with horror film Mardöll (2020) and co-directed the third season of Anaana’s Tent. In 2023 she won a Jeff Barnaby Grant for Indigenous filmmakers in horror, thriller or futurism genres.

Rhoda Voisey — Skin and Hide Gauntlet Mittens c. 1998 Mixed media 33 × 17.8 × 3.8 cm COURTESY THE ROOMS PROVINCIAL ART GALLERY PHOTO NED PRATT PHOTOGRAPHY © THE ARTIST

Gathering

Front

Robert Kautuk. Ice Break (instead of Iceberg), 2020. Photograph (drone image), light box. Courtesy of the Artist.

ᓕᐊᔅᓕ ᕇᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᕌᕗᑦ ᑲᐅᑐᖅ Leslie Reid and Robert Kautuk

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Niap

Qaumaniq September 2023

Embroidery thread, inkjet print on paper, 2022, 16 x 21”

“When I see photographs taken many years ago, I feel a sense of pride and am happy to work with them. There is so much colour in the Arctic which surprises people; for this one, I wanted to capture the summer sky as sunrays over the land. I really like to work in mixed media; sewing on paper is challenging but it does reference traditional life and the sewing skills of women.” Niap, artist statement, October 2023.

www.feheleyfinearts.com

gallery@feheleyfinearts.com

65 George Street, Toronto

416 323 1373

ARTISTS' CORNER

Congratulations, Ningiukulu Teevee, 2023 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award Winner! Ningiukulu Teevee, a beloved graphic artist from Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, is the winner of this year’s $20,000 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award (KAMA), the Inuit Art Foundation’s biennial prize that celebrates and supports Inuit artists by facilitating opportunities for artistic development and career growth. Teevee is highly regarded as a skillful storyteller, celebrated for her playful drawings and prints that reimagine traditional stories with contemporary flair. Her work has appeared in more than 40 global exhibitions, including ten solo shows, and has been featured in every annual Cape Dorset Print Collection since 2004. Her debut children’s book, Alego (2009), was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Literary Award for children’s illustration. The artist was nominated for KAMA by Georgiana Uhlyarik, the Fredrik S. Eaton Curator, Canadian Art, and co-lead of the Department of Indigenous and Canadian Art at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) in Toronto, ON. “Teevee has such a distinctive drawing style and she often revisits certain subjects and things she’s really interested in, like walruses and owls, so when you see them they are so absolutely her,” says Uhlyarik. “There is so much in each one of Ning’s images. With very few lines or colours, or even shapes, she captures a whole world or event in an immediate way. She always puts in something that another Inuk can recognize and they know that it is for them. You are attracted by her striking images and composition, but then the more time you spend with each work, you realize that she’s also giving you this narrative.”

“Teevee is an artist-storyteller of the highest caliber whose evocative prints and drawings have the power to transport viewers to familiar spaces and scenes in the North, whether she is picturing a pot of soup bubbling on the stove, or Inuit playing traditional games in the local gym.”

Dr. Heather Igloliorte PRESIDENT, IAF BOARD OF DIRECTORS

“Not many artists make me wish I had come up with an idea. Ningiukulu makes me stop in total covetous wonder; her work is unlike anyone else’s and I often marvel at her brilliance and humour.”

Tarralik Duffy 2023 JURY MEMBER AND 2021 KAMA WINNER

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

ARTISTS' CORNER

“This award is important because it honours my anitsakuluk—that’s an endearment I called Kenojuak, because our namesakes were cousins— by keeping her memory alive in the community and the world.” Ningiukulu Teevee

COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Ningiukulu Teevee — The Swimmer 2013 Printmaker Qiatsuq Niviaqsi Stonecut and stencil 61.5 × 79.5 cm ALL REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Blossoming Owl 2018 Printmaker Ashoona Ashoona Stonecut and stencil 37.5 × 35.3 cm

RIGHT

Mythic Walrus 2023 Printmaker Studio PM Etching, aquatint and chine collé 96.7 × 73.9 cm

Gathering

Front

ARTISTS' CORNER

Meet the Finalists For the first time this year, the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award introduced a longlist of ten artists whose inspiring work showcases a range of innovative, thoughtful practices and are poised for great things in the years ahead. Those talented artists are Manasie Akpaliapik, Deantha Edmunds, Billy Gauthier, Glenn Gear, Maureen Gruben, Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona, Kablusiak, Gloria Inugaq Putumiraqtuq, Ningiukulu Teevee and Couzyn van Heuvelen. Each received $2,500 and was featured in a limited-edition, archival-quality catalogue distributed with the IAQ’s Spring 2023 issue, Line. In May five shortlisted finalists, including Teevee, were announced. Each received an additional $5,000 and took part in a group exhibition at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG)-Qaumajuq, Anaanatta Unikkaangit (Our Mother’s Stories), curated by Marie-Anne Redhead, the gallery’s Assistant Curator of Indigenous and Contemporary Art.

PHOTO MEGAN STEWART

COURTESY THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Billy Gauthier, who hails from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, had his first solo show in 2010 at Spirit Wrestler Gallery in Vancouver, BC, which sold out within an hour. Based in North West River, NL, Gauthier is known for his intricate mixed-media sculptures thematically focused on Inuit cosmologies, contemporary social issues and his intimate relationship with the land.

PHOTO KYRA KORDOSKI

Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona is a multidisciplinary artist from Ottawa, ON, whose work varies from production knitting and ceramics to major visual art commissions, incorporating everyday objects that have symbolic meanings for Inuit, which she reframes through a modern lens. In 2022 she designed a stamp for Canada Post to recognize the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.

COURTESY THE ARTIST

Maureen Gruben is an Inuvialuk artist from Tuktuuyaqtuuq (Tuktoyaktuk), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, whose work sits at the intersection of installation, performance and sculpture, illustrating critical links between communities, the land and environmental concerns. In 2019 Gruben was longlisted for the Aesthetica Art Prize and in 2021 for the Sobey Art Award.

Kablusiak is an Inuvialuk artist based in Calgary, AB, whose work pushes boundaries and celebrates individuality. Kablusiak, who is shortlisted for the 2023 Sobey Art Award, had two solo exhibitions in 2022: Party City (where you belong) at Norberg Hall and mitaaqtuaqtunga (no translation provided) at The Bows, both in Calgary. Their work also received the Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival’s 2022 Gattuso Prize.

Winter 2023

ARTISTS' CORNER

The Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award is a biennial prize of $20,000 that supports Inuit artists by facilitating opportunities for artistic development and career growth. Established by the Inuit Art Foundation in 2014 thanks to a committed group of Inuit art supporters, the award celebrates the long, incomparable legacy of Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013). In addition to the $20,000 prize money, Teevee will receive a solo exhibition, catalogue and residency thanks to support from RBC Emerging Artists. A solo exhibition, scheduled for fall 2025, will coincide with the announcement of the next KAMA cycle. “We at RBC couldn’t be more honoured to enhance the KAMA award program to benefit and bring profile to more Inuit artists,” says Kim Ulmer, RBC Regional President, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Nunavut and Western Ontario. “Ningiukulu Teevee’s bold and joyful work brings delight and curiosity to all who have a chance to engage with her art.” Thank you to the 2023 jurors: Jocelyn Piirainen, Logan Ruben and Tarralik Duffy, the 2021 KAMA winner. And thank you to all of the donors who have made this award possible.

Kenojuak Ashevak — Preening Owl 1995 Printmaker Arnaqu Ashevak Stonecut 49.5 × 73.7 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

KAMA is generously supported by

To learn more about the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award, please visit inuitartfoundation.org/kama Gathering

and many members of the Inuit art community

Front

PROFILE BELOW (TOP)

Saali Kuata

BELOW (BOTTOM)

Portrait of Saali Kuata, 2022

Saali Kuata on aerial rope, 2021

PHOTO LISA MILOSAVLJEVIC ALL © THE ARTIST

PHOTO SAALI KUATA

by Alicia Bojkov Inspired by the rich imagery of Inuit legends and tales, Montreal, QC–based circus artist and photographer Saali Kuata draws on the expressive art forms to preserve and promote intergenerational knowledge passed down by Elders. Kuata’s unintentional circus career began in 2013 when the then-teenager from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, joined Cirqiniq, a performing-arts recreational camp funded by Cirque du Monde and Kativik Regional Government to mentor Inuit youth. The sheer versatility of circus arts appealed to Kuata, who says, “I was very enthralled to essentially experiment.” 1 Cirqiniq also fulfilled Kuata’s longing for the stage as the artist quickly became drawn to its spectacle and “the goal of ultimately producing a show.” Specializing now in aerial rope, he began training in the art of stilt walking but felt drawn to the dynamism of aerial practices. He received encouragement from his peers in the program to pursue aerial rope practices and rose quickly through the ranks; first as an apprentice and then as a co-coordinator in 2017. Driven to preserve knowledge and educate Inuit youth, Kuata co-founded the non-profit circus-arts troupe TUPIQ A.C.T. (Arctic Circus Troupe) in 2018—considered to be the first of its kind in Nunavik. With his personal practice rooted in Montreal, the circus capital of Canada, TUPIQ A.C.T. stemmed from a simultaneous dream and ongoing joke amongst his fellow Nunavimmiut circus performers “as Inuit to initiate ourselves and build a professional circus troupe so that we could produce our own shows without any constraints [like the] theme of the program, or the summer camp or the influence of non-Inuit instructors telling us how to produce a show.” The troupe’s inaugural production, Tupituqaq, premiered in 2018. It revolves around the protagonist, Maina, searching the tundra for her grandmother, Ananatsiaq. Mythical northern creatures physically guide Maina through the landscape while she draws on the knowledge passed down from her Elders to enter a path of self-discovery. Based on a true story, the troupe extrapolated from the source material. “We wanted to Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

PROFILE

focus on the intergenerational disconnect that we had between our Elders and our youth,” says Kuata, “focusing on [the fact that] their teachings, their knowledge are still as valid as it was before colonization—and if not more imperative, more important today.” In Tupituqaq, Kuata plays Mahaha, a mythical creature known for his ultimate endurance, long fingernails and unkempt hair, who tickles people leaving his victims “dead on the ice with a frozen smile.” Gliding across the stage using power risers or jumping stilts, Kuata awakens the chimeric and playful qualities of Mahaha while alluding to the ice-covered landscape of the tundra. Harnessing the power of body language in circus arts and shadow play, all performances produced by TUPIQ A.C.T. are conducted solely in Inuktitut, further emphasizing their goal to teach younger generations pre-colonial knowledge. With his camera always by his side, Kuata’s photography documents the production of his circus performances as he strives to “archive parts of his life.” He describes his current body of work as a “conglomerate collection of landscapes and candid portraits” that revolve around his daily life in Montreal and travels back home to Nunavik. Gathering

Kuata continues to add to his artistic repertoire through his latest practice of steatite carving. Inspired by his grandfather, a prolific steatite sculptor himself, Kuata began crafting jewellery and qulliit. Through diverse media—circus arts, photography and carving— Kuata cherishes, “the chance to practice any of these disciplines, whether it’s working with my body physically or my mind to fall into a meditative state.” This combination of physical and mental agility ultimately allows Kuata to share Inuit lived experiences and knowledge across an array of media and audiences.

ABOVE (LEFT)

Saali Kuata on aerial rope at Carnaval de cirque, Montreal, QC, 2022 PHOTO SAGE REBELLE

ABOVE (RIGHT TOP)

Saali Kuata — Red Man 2020 Film photograph ABOVE (RIGHT BOTTOM)

—

Alicia Bojkov is a German Canadian art historian whose scholarship focuses on early twentieth-century photography and collage. Bojkov holds an MA in Art History from the University of Toronto and is currently an International Art Consignment Specialist at Waddington’s in Toronto, ON. This Profile was made possible through support from RBC Emerging Artists. 31

Auk 2022 Film photograph

NOTES

¹ All quotes Saali Kuata, interview with Alicia Bojkov, September 2023.

Front

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PAST FORWARD — by Arnatsiaq Qvist

Using archival material isn’t a new practice among Inuit artists. Some use older content to connect to their family legacies, their culture or even simply for nostalgic purposes. Others incorporate it as social commentary or as a way to address problematic colonial practices. But how do artists choose what images and footage are meaningful to them? What is involved in the process of using archival material and how does this imagery or footage inform the meaning of what they are creating? Here, three Inuit artists—Lindsay McIntyre, Niap and asinnajaq—closely examine how they use older content to produce new work.

Lindsay McIntyre — Ajjigiiniluktaaqtugut (We Are All Different) (still) 2020 Animation on S16mm to digital video 17 min ALL © THE ARTIST

LEFT

NIGIQTUQ ᓂᒋᖅᑐᖅ (The South Wind) (stills) 2023 Film 17 min OPPOSITE

Tell Me Why 2021 Inkjet print 25.4 × 48.3 cm

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

Lindsay McIntyre While living in New York, New York, in 1999, film artist Lindsay McIntyre—who now lives in Edmonton, AB—found a piece of celluloid film on the street and realized its possibilities. From then on she began working with film as a physical material rather than just as a storytelling device. “A lot of my early works were all explorations,” she says. “I was experimenting with materials, figuring out what they would do and learning from failing. Most of the projects I worked on were rooted in working with footage. I didn’t have the skills to use a camera. Nobody taught me how to make films. I didn’t go to film school. I taught myself. I would make cookies for somebody, so they would teach me a piece of equipment that I needed to use.” 1 Since the beginning of her career, McIntyre experimented with film. “I was drawing, scratching, bleaching and cutting up and editing pre-existing footage,” she says. Occasionally when a person passed away, their families would donate their belongings, photos and footage to her. McIntyre would also incorporate pre-existing footage or stacks of home movies she uncovered that had been thrown away. “It was almost like they were discarding their family. I didn’t quite understand that because there was no home movie footage of my family. I would have loved to have footage of my grandmother—my immediate family, in particular—but even just of me and my siblings when we were kids growing up in the Prairies,” she says. “I craved that so much. I was attracted to that kind of footage and the kinds of things you could know or discover or understand about people, how people lived, culture and their humanity.” McIntyre recently finished a short film, NIGIQTUQ ᓂᒋᖅᑐᖅ (The South Wind) (2023), which premiered at

Gathering

this year’s imagineNATIVE Film + Media Arts Festival in Toronto, ON, about her grandmother, who was an interpreter for the RCMP. An officer, who wanted her for his wife, took her and two of her eight children down to Edmonton from Nunavut in a sled. They travelled a thousand miles south to Edmonton and never returned. NIGIQTUQ ᓂᒋᖅᑐᖅ (The South Wind) explores the challenges faced by McIntyre’s grandmother when she arrived in the South. She left her other six children in Nunavut, and she wasn’t permitted to speak Inuktitut in this new city. To make matters worse, her mother-in-law never spoke to her directly, despite the fact that they lived together in the same house for 30 years. In her 2021 video installation Tell Me Why, McIntyre appears in the studio where she is shooting. A green screen is pulled down from the wall and upon it you see an image of that same RCMP officer who brought her family to Edmonton. McIntyre stands in front of him, gesticulating and having a conversation as he simply stands there, motionless. “For me the piece is about being able to go back and ask him why he was the way he was, why he did the things he did. He wasn’t always a very nice man,” says McIntyre, who finds the process of putting works like these out into the world cathartic. “I think it is helpful, culturally or societally, that we’re processing these things. We’re not pretending they don’t exist or not dealing with them. I want people to see the beauty, but also the pain and the things that, in my family, nobody wanted to talk about, nobody was willing to talk about.” This is McIntyre’s way of processing the world: seeing the beauty but also the pain through objects that have been left behind.

Past Forward

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

Niap beauty. When asked how archival imagery informs the meaning of what she is making, she says, “I think it depends on what I’m working on. It is a tie of all of it. It’s celebrating culture.” Instead of dwelling solely on past hardships, Niap strives to bring forth nearly forgotten aspects, such as tunniit and kakiniit practices, often using archival photos as background. She rekindles the essence of her culture by infusing older media with vibrant neon threads and paint. This addition of colour into the black-and-white photos creates a stark contrast and breathes new life into these memories. Niap has also collaborated with photographer Robert Fréchette, whom she met while working at Avataq Cultural Institute in Nunavik, marking up his collection of land photographs—including some around Kuujjuaq—which he captured over a span of decades. “I asked to have access to them, and I asked to be able to do whatever I wanted with them,” she says. Using watered-down acrylic paint in a variety of neon colours, Niap detailed the photographs with bold slashes, dots and delicate lines that play off the forms in the pictures, creating a dialogue between the two mediums. Currently she is working with materials from Avataq’s collection in Nunavik, with the intention of embroidering photos from their archives. For Niap, this work is a way of acknowledging her family and community’s legacy, by bringing back nearly forgotten photos.

The first time Niap created work using archival materials, it was for a student project at Concordia University in Montreal, QC. “My teacher asked for a self-portrait, and so that’s what I came up with,” she says. “It was a painting class, and there was not one ounce of paint on the canvas. Which is a big risk, but, since then, I have worked with these archival photos.” 2 For Self Portrait (2018), Niap, who divides her time between Montreal and her home community of Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, assembled a collection of black-and-white family photos to construct a collaged portrait of herself. She incorporated images of her family: her great-grandmother, grandfather, mother and even the woman who cut her umbilical cord. Photos of people who are part of her life and define who she is are stitched together with lines of red embroidery thread. The piece was included in TETHER, a 2022 exhibition of more than 50 Northern Indigenous artworks shown at the Arctic Arts Summit at the Yukon Art Centre in Whitehorse, YT. “It was like an autobiography, a self-portrait without my picture in it,” says Niap. “It’s been a long process, the way it all started. A lot of it has to do with claiming my identity as an Inuk woman. I don’t look like an Inuk woman. I always have to justify my Inukness.” In general, Niap’s practice acknowledges the historical struggles faced by Inuit while celebrating their resilience and

OPPOSITE (TOP)

Niap — Uncategory 14 Land 2019 Archival pigment print and acrylic 61 × 91.4 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY ALL © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Uncategory 4 Land 2019 Archival pigment print and acrylic 61 × 91.4 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

LEFT

Self Portrait 2018 Photo transfer and thread

Gathering

Past Forward

Remix Three more artists who have dug through the archives to create new work Elisapie For her latest album, Inuktitut (2023), Nunavik singer-songerwriter Elisapie recorded translated versions of popular songs that are personally meaningful to her, including “Qimatsilunga (I Want to Break Free),” “Taimangalimaaq (Time After Time),” and “Uummati Attarnarsimat (Heart of Glass).” Accompanying the tracks are music videos that weave together various media, including performance, new and old film footage to create emotionally driven vignettes, or what she has referred to on social media as “short documentaries of life in the North.”

Tanya Tagaq, CM In 2012 Tanya Tagaq, CM, debuted a new composition to accompany screenings of Nanook of the North, a 1922 silent film by American filmmaker Robert Flaherty. Through this groundbreaking project, Tagaq reclaimed the film by celebrating her ancestors’ ability to survive the harsh arctic environments through her live performances, while giving voice to the titular character Nanook, originally played by Allakariallak (date of birth unknown–1924).

Siku Allooloo Born and raised in Yellowknife, NT, and now living in Whitehorse, YT, Inuk and Haitian Taíno writer and filmmaker Siku Allooloo founded the Indigenous film production company Akia Films in 2021. Her debut experimental short documentary, Spirit Emulsion (2022), was shot on Super 8 and developed by hand using botanicals. The festival-lauded film, which she refers to as a “cinematic opening prayer,” incorporates old media clippings into this organically stunning call for future Indigenous sovereignty.

NOTES ABOVE (TOP)

ABOVE (CENTRE)

ABOVE (BOTTOM)

Elisapie — Qimmijuat (Wild Horses) (still) 2023 Music video 5 min 34 sec

Tanya Tagaq performing in front of the 1922 silent film Nanook of the North in Toronto, 2012

Siku Allooloo — Spirit Emulsion (still) 2022 Film 7 min 30 sec

COURTESY TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL

All quotes Lindsay McIntyre, interview with Arnatsiaq Qvist, September 2023.

All quotes Niap (Nancy Saunders), interview with Arnatsiaq Qvist, September 2023.

COURTESY LANTERN FILMS

COURTESY BONSOUND

Inuit Art Quarterly

All quotes asinnajaq, interview with Jessica MacDonald, October 2023.

Maddy Trip, “asinnajaq,” IAQ Profiles, last modified April 30, 2019, inuitartfoundation.org/ profiles/artist/Asinnajaq.

See note 3 above.

Winter 2023

asinnajaq Montreal-based artist and curator asinnajaq has been immersed in storytelling and the sharing of her cultural heritage since her childhood in Inukjuak, Nunavik, QC. She went on to assist her father, filmmaker Jobie Weetaluktuk, on his 2012 production, Timuti. Her practice is grounded in research and collaboration, which includes working with other artists, friends and family and using archival materials throughout some of her work. A graduate in cinematic studies from NSCAD University in Halifax, NS, asinnajaq worked with the National Film Board of Canada (NFB)’s archive in 2016 to source historical and contemporary films to shed light on colonial representations of Inuit in film. The archival material she pulled is featured in her short 14-minute film, Three Thousand (2017), which was assembled from thousands of hours of historical and contemporary footage, including some created by her father. Working with the NFB’s archive, asinnajaq observed that “it has all kinds of different histories in its fabric, having to do with the history of filmmaking itself and of image capturing. And then you also have the people that are behind the camera, and the gaze that goes with that.” 3 By incorporating some of her father’s footage in the archives, she was able to change what was a hurtful gaze—“a completely alien view, to a literally family view.” For Three Thousand, asinnajaq collaborated with Montreal-born and Berlin-based artist Patrick Defasten to take this original footage and, “create original animations and, ultimately, produce a work that reframes the past and creates a vision for the future.” 4 The archival footage creates a non-narrative look at Inuit life, bookended by these futuristic yet organically styled animations. The film was installed as part of the Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq’s exhibition INSURGENCE/RESURGENCE, which ran from September 2017 to April 2018. “Before I worked on Three Thousand, it seemed more like the archive was something you extracted from and found the gems of what you’re looking for, and worked with it that way,” says asinnajaq. 5 “I really learned that the archive is just like a living subject, like a living person. I had to learn to take the time to listen to the archive, as the main subject of the film, and it really humbled me.” As with McIntyre and Niap, asinnajaq’s work with archival materials opens a personal connection to the past that acknowledges both fraught histories and the beauty contained within. — Arnatsiaq Qvist was born and raised in Uummannaq, Kalaallit Nunaat. She has been fortunate to sew and create content for a fabric company, allowing her to feed her passion for creating through textiles and fabric.

RIGHT

asinnajaq — Three Thousand (stills) 2017 Film 14 min 4 sec COURTESY NATIONAL FILM BOARD OF CANADA

Gathering

Past Forward

ROOTED ELSEWHERE

Finding Community outside Inuit Nunangat — Translated by Jeela Palluq-Cloutier

ᐊᓯᐊᓂᙶᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ

ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒃᓴᖅᓯᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᑦᑕ ᓯᓚᑖᓂᑦ

— ᐃᓄᒃᑑᓕᖅᑎᕆᔪᖅ ᔩᓚ ᕿᓕᖅᑎ

What does home mean when you’re not in your homelands? Absent the physical presence of Inuit Nunangat, how do artists gather as a community of people? Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti Napatsi Folger, herself an Inuk graphic artist based in Vancouver, BC, comes together with four other urban Inuit—textile artist Ujarak Appadoo (Montreal, QC), multidisciplinary artist Yvonne Moorhouse (Red Deer, AB), multidisciplinary artist Kale Sheppard (Winnipeg, MB) and graphic artist Naluturuk (Nally) Weetaluktuk (Ottawa, ON)—to discuss the delicate interpersonal networks each has woven through social media, school and art events that connect them to community while living outside of Inuit Nunangat, and how these concepts play out in their artistic practice. Following this roundtable, the artists created original works inspired by their conversation. Displayed alongside this Feature are those pieces in which Sheppard examines how technology connects, Weetaluktuk reflects on Inuit Nunangat, Moorhouse contemplates homesickness and Appadoo investigates borders and journeys.

NAPATSI FOLGER: I was born in Iqaluit, NU, and grew up partially there and partially in Vancouver, BC, where I live now. I left the North and lost my Inuktitut when I was seven, and really didn’t feel like a proper Inuk for a long time afterwards. I think a lot of urban Inuit feel like that, not speaking Inuktitut and living in the South. That’s why we’re having this conversation with urban Inuit, because we’d like to hear your thoughts on creating a sense of community when living outside of the North. YVONNE MOORHOUSE: When I first moved away from home, I went to Carleton University in Ottawa, ON, and immediately started volunteering with what at the time was called the Aboriginal Student Lounge. So I thankfully was able to connect to other Indigenous students that were there. Because I was so painfully shy, there’s no way I would have been able to just talk to someone, but I connected with a lot of really good people through the Lounge.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Yvonne Moorhouse ᐃᕚᓐ ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅ “I grew up in Labrador in Happy Valley-Goose Bay. My dad is British, he worked for the Royal Air Force on the military base. My mum is Inuk from Happy Valley. Her father was born in Back Bay, near Rigolet, Nunatsiavut, NL, and Gran is from Cape Wolstenholme in Nunavik, QC.” “ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓯᒪᕗᖓ ᓛᐸᑐᐊᕆᒥ, ᕼᐊᐱ ᕚᓕ ᒎᔅᐸᐃᒥ. ᐊᑖᑕᒐ ᐳᕆᑎᔅᖑᔪᖅ, ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᓇᑕᖅᑐᒃᓴᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᓲᓕᕆᔨᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐃᓅᔪᖅ ᕼᐊᐱ ᕚᓕᒥᙶᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. ᐊᑖᑕᖓ ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐹᒃ ᐸᐃᒥ, ᕆᒍᓕᑦ ᖃᓂᒋᔭᖓᓂ, ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᑦ, ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᖅ ᑲᐃᑉ ᐅᓪᓯᑕᓐᕼᐅᒻᒥ ᓄᓇᕕᒃ, ᑯᐸᐃᒃᒥᑦ.”

Kale Sheppard ᑲᐃᓕ ᓴᐸᑦ “My mom is Mennonite and my dad is Inuk from Makkovik and Postville in Nunatsiavut, NL. My parents met and then had me, and when I was a year old we moved to southern Manitoba, where I grew up on Treaty 1 territory for most of my life.” “ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᒪᓄᓇᐃᑦᖑᔪᖅ ᐊᑖᑕᒐᓗ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᓂ ᒪᒃᑯᕕᖕᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐳᔅᕕᐅᓪᒥᑦ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᑦ, ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥᑦ. ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᒃᑲᒃ ᑲᑎᓐᓇᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ, ᐅᑭᐅᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᒫᓂᑑᐸᒧᑦ, ᐱᕈᖅᓴᕕᒋᓯᒪᔭᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᓕᒫᐸᓗᓐᓂᓪᓗ ᓇᔪᖅᖢᒍ ᓄᓇ.”

When I stayed in Ottawa, I worked at Inuit Broadcasting Corporation and Inuit Circumpolar Council. So it was through school and work that I found those connections with some people that I’m still in touch with, who made it easier for me to be away. Now I’m in Red Deer, AB, where I have lived for almost nine years. UJARAK APPADOO: I attended high school in London, ON, because I thought Arviat, NU, did not provide many chances, particularly for continuing my education. There were two additional Inuit at my high school, one of which was Nak Alariaq, my roommate. It was my first time both being far from home and being physically so close to home in a city. There were several people from home when I later relocated to Ottawa. I began my studies at the University of Ottawa, but I soon became acquainted with Inuit from all throughout Nunavut through friends from Arviat who were attending Nunavut Sivuniksavut. Following that, I relocated

Winter 2023

ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐸ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᕕᒋᓯᒪᔭᕐᓃᙱᑎᓪᓗᑎᑦ? ᐱᑕᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᖃᓐᖏᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ, ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᑲᑎᖓᓲᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒡᖢᑎᒃ? ᑕᐅᑐᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕗᓪᔪ, ᐃᓅᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᕚᓐᑰᕙ, ᐳᕆᑎᔅ ᑲᓚᒻᐱᐊᒥ, ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖅᐸᒃᑐᖅ ᑎᓴᒪᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᔭᒥᓂᒃᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᐅᔭᕋᒃ ᐊᑉᐸᑑ (ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊ, ᑯᐸᐃᒃ); ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᐃᕚᓐ ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅ (ᕆᑦ ᑎᐅ, ᐋᓪᐴᑕ); ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᑲᐃᔪ ᓴᐳᑦ (ᐅᐃᓂᐸᐃᒃ, ᒫᓂᑑᐸ); ᐊᒻᒪ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎ ᓇᓗᑐᕈᒃ (ᓇᓕ) ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ (ᐋᑐᕚ, ᐋᓐᑎᐅᕆᐅ)-ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖃᖃᑎᖃᖅᐸᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᒃᑯᑦ, ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᒃᑎᒍᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᑲᓱᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᓂᔾᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᒌᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᑦᑕ ᓯᓚᑖᓃᑦᑐᓄᑦ, ᖃᓄᕐᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᕙᒃᑕᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓂᖃᖅᐸᖕᒪᖔᑕ. ᑖᔅᓱᒪᓂ ᑲᑎᒪᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒌᒍᑕᐅᔪᖅ. ᓴᕿᔮᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓂᐊᓂ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ ᓴᐳᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑕᓂᖃᕐᒪᖔᑕ. ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᒃ, ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅᐃᓱᒪᒋᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᕐᒥᔭᖓ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑉᐸᑐ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᓄᑦ ᑭᒡᓕᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐸᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ.

Ujarak Appadoo ᐅᔭᕋᒃ ᐊᑉᐸᑐ “My parents still reside in Arviat, Nunavut, where I was raised. My dad is Inuk and my mother is white.” “ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᒃᑲᒃ ᓱᓕ ᐊᕐᕕᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔫᒃ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐱᕈᖅᓴᕕᒋᓯᒪᔭᓐᓂ. ᐊᑖᑕᒐ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖑᓪᓗᓂ.”

Naluturuk (Nally) Weetaluktuk ᓇᓗᑐᕈᒃ (ᓇᓕ) ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ “My family on my ataata’s side comes from Inukjuak, Nunavik, QC, and pretty much everyone from that side lives in Inukjuak still. It’s just me, my father and my siblings in the South, where I grew up in Montreal, QC, from age ten onwards.” “ᐃᓚᒃᑲᑦ ᐊᑖᑕᓐᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᒡᔪᐊᖅ, ᓄᓇᕕᒃ, ᑯᐸᐃᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᑦ, ᐃᓚᓕᒫᐸᓗᒃᑲ ᓱᓕ ᐃᓄᒡᔪᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᐅᕙᖓᑐᐊᖅ, ᐊᑖᑕᒐ ᖃᑕᙳᑎᒃᑲᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓃᑦᑐᒍᑦ, ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ, ᑯᐸᐃᒃᒥ, ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ ᖁᓕᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓂᓐᓂᑦ.”

ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

Jason Sikoak — From left: Napatsi Folger, Yvonne Moorhouse, Kale Sheppard, Naluturuk (Nally) Weetaluktuk and Ujarak Appadoo Digital illustrations

ᔭᐃᓴᓐ ᓯᖁᐊᖅ — ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓂᑦ: ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕘᓪᔪ, ᐃᕚᓐ ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅ, ᑲᐃᓕ ᓴᐸᑦ, ᓇᓗᑐᕈᒃ (ᓇᓕ) ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐅᔭᕋᒃ ᐊᑉᐸᑐ ᖃᕋᑕᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ

ALL © THE ARTIST

ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ © ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨᒥᑦ

Gathering

ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕘᓪᔪ: ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᑕᑉᐱᑲᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᕚᓐᑰᕙ, ᐳᕆᑎᔅ ᑲᓚᒻᐱᐊᒧᑦ, ᓄᓇᒋᓕᖅᑕᓐᓄᑦ. ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒦᑦᑐᓐᓃᕋᒪ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒍᓐᓇᐃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐅᑭᐅᖃᖅᖢᖓ 7-ᓂᒃ, ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒡᓗ ᑭᖑᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᓪᓚᑦᑖᖑᖅᑰᔨᙲᓐᓇᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᖅᑰᖅᑐᑦ, ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒍᓐᓇᕋᑎᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓃᖦᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᖅᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ, ᑐᓴᕈᒪᓪᓗᑕ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᓕᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒃᑐᓕᐅᕋᔭᕈᑦᑕ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖕᒪᖔᔅᓯ. ᐃᕚᓐ ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅ: ᓄᓇᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᕆᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᑳᓗᑕᓐ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᖕᒧᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐋᑐᕚᒥ, ᐋᓐᑎᐅᕆᐅᒥ, ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᑲᑎᕕᖓᓂ ᐃᑲᔪᕋᓱᖃᑦᑕᓯᑲᐅᑎᒋᓪᓗᖓ. ᖁᕕᐊᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᕈᓐᓇᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ. ᑲᙳᑦᑕᒻᒪᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ, ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᒧᑦ

Rooted Elsewhere

to Montreal, QC, where I attended McGill University and spent a lot of time at the First Peoples’ House. Initially, I was the only Inuk there but other Inuit arrived while I was still a student. The First Peoples’ House was very much a part of my university community. Later, while studying in Montreal, I met my husband. KALE SHEPPARD: I spent a year in Postville, Nunatsiavut, NL, when I was eight and nine, and then moved back to Manitoba. I didn’t grow up in my community, except for that one year. Before that I hadn’t had any contact with the Inuit community outside of my dad. Whenever we were home in Manitoba, it felt like we were the only Inuit in the world. But when I moved to Winnipeg, MB, somebody found me by chance. In 2018 I made my first murals for the new Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG)-Qaumajuq centre, and sculptor Goota Ashoona reached out after seeing them in the news. We’ve since been able to work and travel together. I’ve learned a lot of carving from her, and the travelling and her connections opened the door for meeting more Inuit artists and learning more about the culture. I also did a mural at the Strong People, Strong Communities mural-painting festival in Yellowknife, NT, where I got to meet other Inuit from different regions. And I’ve been working with the Manitoba Inuit Association a little bit, and through them I got to meet Fred Ford (1949–2022) before he passed. I’ve been slowly growing my community. NALUTURUK (NALLY) WEETALUKTUK: I grew up a bit in Iqaluit, and Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, and when I turned ten we moved to Montreal and stayed there for a long time. Now I’m in Ottawa for a job. So I have that interesting experience of missing both Montreal and Inukjuak. Inuit arts events are one of the ways in which I found community. My sister asinnajaq helped start the Tillitarniit Film Festival in Montreal, and it was great to have that event where I could meet other Inuit who were also interested in art. I met one of my really good friends that way. And going to other things like vernissages has been really integral to feeling whole as a person. NF: It sounds like there’s a real common thread here of community through art activities and school. Does your physical location in the South make a difference to your experience of these events? NW: Living in Montreal and Ottawa has been very important, both in some of the obvious ways like through in-person feasts and events, but also living here gives a chance to see people that I might know personally or through my parents. YM: When I came out here to Red Deer, I found there was a much larger disconnect because I don’t have the same in-person community here that I would have had in Ottawa or back home. Being outside an urban centre, art is one of the ways I get to experience community, through themes of thankfulness and gratefulness I explore in my work. That helps me feel the togetherness and helps me feel that community, sharing good, healthy, positive things and living a healthy life. I honour my parents and my sisters, I remember my grandparents and I share

Inuit Art Quarterly

OPPOSITE

Yvonne Moorhouse — Bridge 2023 22 gauge silver sheet, 12 gauge silver wire, glass beads and thread 215.9 × 14 × 14 cm ALL © THE ARTISTS

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐃᕚᓐ ᒧᐊᕼᐊᐅᔅ — ᐃᑳᕈᑦ 2023 22 ᕿᓪᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃ, 12 ᓴᕕᕋᔭᒃ ᑐᐊᑦᑐᖅ, ᕿᓪᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᐸᖓᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᕙᓗᒃᓴᖅ 215.9 × 14 × 14 cm ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ © ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕆᔨᒥᑦ

Winter 2023

ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᓯᖃᑐᐃᓐᓇᕈᓐᓇᓚᐅᙱᓐᓇᒪ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᑦᑎᐊᕙᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᖅᐸᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᑲᑎᕕᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐊᑑᕚᒦᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᒐᒃᓴᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᖑᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᕐᓂᒃᑯᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᓱᓕ ᒫᓐᓇᒧᑦ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒋᕙᒃᑕᒃᑲ, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᖏᓐᓂᓐᓂ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᑉᐹᓪᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ. ᒫᓐᓇ ᕋᑦ ᑎᐅ, ᐋᓪᐴᑕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓕᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓄᑦ 9-ᑲᓴᐅᓕᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᐅᔭᕋᒃ ᐊᑉᐸᑐ: ᓚᓐᑕᓐ, ᐋᓐᑎᐅᕆᐅᒥ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᐊᓗᖕᒥ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ, ᐊᕐᕕᐊᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐱᕕᒃᓴᖃᕐᓇᓗᐊᓚᐅᙱᒻᒪᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᒍᒪ. ᒪᕐᕉᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᒃᑕᖃᒃᑲᓐᓂᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᐊᓗᖕᒦᑎᓪᓗᑕ, ᐱᖃᑖ ᓇᒃ ᐊᓚᕆᐊᖅ, ᐃᒡᓗᒥᐅᖃᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᕆᓚᐅᖅᐸᕋ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕐᒥᒃ ᕿᒪᒃᓯᔭᕆᐅᖅᖢᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᓄᑦ ᖃᓂᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖃᕆᐅᖅᖢᖓ. ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᒃᑲ ᐊᒥᓲᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐋᑐᕚᒧᑦ ᓅᑎᓪᓗᖓ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᓯᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐋᑐᕚ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᖓᓂ, ᐊᑯᓂᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ ᓇᑭᑐᐃᓐᓈᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᕐᕕᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᕐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖃᑎᖃᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᕗᒻᒥ. ᑭᖑᓂᐊᒍᑦ, ᓅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊ, ᑯᐸᐃᒃᒧᑦ, ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᖢᖓ ᒪᒋᐅᓪ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᕐᒥ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗᖁᑎᖓᓃᒐᔪᒃᖢᖓ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᕐᒥᒃ, ᐃᓄᒃᑕᑐᐊᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᓯᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑎᑭᑦᑐᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᓕ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᐅᑎᓪᓗᖓ. ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᖁᑎᖓᓂ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᔭᐅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᖕᒦᓐᓂᓐᓂ. ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ ᓱᓕ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᑲᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᐅᐃᒐ. ᑲᐃᓕ ᓴᐸᑦ: ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓕᒫᖅ ᐴᔅᕕᐅᒦᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ, ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒻᒥ, ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥ, ᐅᑭᐅᖃᖅᖢᖓ 8 ᐊᒻᒪ 9-ᓂᒃ, ᐅᑎᖅᖢᖓᓗ ᒫᒥᑑᐸᒧᑦ ᑭᖑᓂᐊᒍᑦ. ᓄᓇᑦᑎᓐᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᖓ, ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᐊᖅ ᐊᕐᕌᒎᓚᐅᖅᑐᒥ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ. ᓯᕗᓂᐊᒍᑦ, ᐊᑖᑕᒪ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᖓ. “ᑕᐃᒪᙵᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᓕᕌᖓᓐᓄᒃ ᒫᓂᑑᐸᒥ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᕐᒥ ᐃᓄᒃᑕᑐᐊᖑᖅᑰᔨᓪᓗᓅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ.” ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᐃᓂᐸᐃᖕᒧᑦ, ᒫᓂᑑᐸᒧᑦ, ᓅᓐᓇᒪ ᐱᔮᖅᑯᒥᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ. 2018-ᒥ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᕐᒥ ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓗᐃᑦ ᓴᓂᕋᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐅᐃᓂᐸᐃᒡ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖓᓂ ᖃᐅᒪᔪᕐᒥ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᒎᑕ ᐊᓲᓇᐅᑉ ᖃᐅᔨᒋᐊᕐᕕᒋᓚᐅᖅᑖᖓ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᒃᑲ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑎᒍᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᙵᓂᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᒃᐸᒃᑐᒍᒃ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᑲᑕᒃᐸᒃᖢᓄᒡᓗ. ᐃᓕᑦᑎᕕᒋᓯᒪᕐᔪᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ, ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᒎᑕᐅᓪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᐅᒃᑲᓐᓂᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᑦᑎᕚᓪᓕᖅᖢᖓᓗ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᕐᓂᒃ. ᐃᒡᓗᕐᔪᐊᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒥᔪᖓ ᓴᙱᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ, ᓴᙱᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᒌᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᖃᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᔭᓗᓇᐃ, ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᒥ, ᐅᐸᒃᐸᒃᑕᕋ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓇᑭᑐᐃᓐᓈᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᕆᐊᖅᑐᖅᖢᖓ. ᒫᓂᑑᐸᒥᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖃᖃᑎᖃᖅᓯᒫᕐᔪᒃᖢᖓ, ᑖᒃᑯᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᕗᕋᑦ ᕗᐊᒥᒃ (1949-2022) ᐃᓅᔪᓐᓃᓚᐅᖅᑎᓐᓇᒍ. ᐃᓚᓕᐅᔾᔭᐅᓕᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᖑᔭᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓄᑦ. ᓇᓗᑐᕈᒃ (ᓇᓕ) ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ: ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᑰᔾᔪᐊᕐᒥ, ᓄᓇᕕᒃ, ᑯᐸᐃᖕᒥ, ᖁᓕᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖃᓕᕋᒪ ᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒧᑦ ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒡᓗ ᑕᐃᑲᓃᖦᖢᑕ. ᒫᓐᓇ ᐋᑐᕚᒦᓕᖅᑐᖓ, ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔮᕐᒧᑦ. ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓄᑦ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒧᑦ ᐃᓄᒡᔪᐊᕐᒧᓪᓗ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖓ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᒌᒍᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᓯᒪᔪᖓ. ᓇᔭᒐ ᐊᐃᓇᔭᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑎᓪᓕᑕᕐᓃᑦ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓂᒃ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ, ᖁᕕᐊᓇᓚᐅᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᒋᔭᖃᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ. ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᙵᐅᕙᒃᖢᓂᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᓗᐃᑦᑐᕈᕋᓱᒃᑎᓪᓗᖓ. NF: ᐃᓅᖃᑎᖃᕐᕕᖃᓕᕈᓐᓇᖅᐸᓚᑦᑎᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᕐᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᓂᒃᑯᓪᓗ. ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓂᕐᓄᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓂᖃᖅᓯᒪᕙ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓯᒪᔭᕐᓄᑦ? NW: ᓄᓇᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ ᐋᑐᕚᒥᓗ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓯᒪᔫᒃ, ᐅᔾᔨᕐᓇᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓂᕆᕕᒡᔪᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑲᑎᒪᑎᑦᑎᓂᒃᑯᓪᓗ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑕᒫᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᕐᓇᖅᐸᖕᒥᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᕐᒪ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ.

Gathering

Rooted Elsewhere

my thanks. The audience might not read it or see it as community, but I’ve put it in there. The love of where I’m from and who I am is definitely core in what I’m making. UA: Yeah, Montreal is one of the cities that have a larger Inuit population. I randomly met Inuit Circumpolar Council Canada President Lisa Koperqualuk one day when I was buying material to make an amauti. She was starting an amauti-making workshop—I joined and that’s where I met a lot of the Inuit that I know here in Montreal. I also met people through different events, like Nally was saying. That’s where I met his sister asinnajaq. I don’t know if I’ve specifically infused the idea of community in my art either, but amautiit as wearable art pieces are very related. Other people, other cultures have baby carriers, but only Inuit have amautiit. Even within Inuit regions, there are different patterns. I feel very connected to community when I’m working with amautiit, connected to the someone along the way who invented them. But living in a city where there are so many different neighbourhoods, travel takes time. And while there is

Inuit Art Quarterly

definitely a sense of community, I think it depends on which part of Inuit Nunangat that you come from and the kind of kinship that whoever is there allows for. Not that people are closed, but it’s easier for me if it’s Inuit from Nunavut. There are certain sub-cultural understandings, I guess. NF: Living in the South, do you find kinship with nearby First Nations people? I’m in Vancouver, and there are a few Inuit here who I only found out about from Facebook. But before that, I really made connections with the Squamish nation, because their rez is in my neighbourhood. KS: I feel a little bit of impostor syndrome in Inuit and Indigenous spaces generally because I didn’t grow up in my community and I don’t feel like I have the experience or the culture. And when I’ve been invited into local Indigenous spaces, the people there all know each other, because their reserves are close, so I feel very out of place in those spaces as well.

Winter 2023

YM: ᑕᒪᐅᙵᕋᒪ ᕋᑦ ᑎᐅᒧᑦ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᖃᒡᒐᕐᓂᖅᓴᒻᒪᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐋᑐᕚᒦᓚᐅᕈᓯᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᑎᒋᓚᐅᙱᓐᓇᒪ ᐋᑐᕚᒥ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᓐᓂᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖅᐸᒍᓯᑦᑎᑐᑦ. ᓄᓇᓕᑦ ᓯᓚᑖᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᓄᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖓ, ᖁᔭᓕᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᖁᔭᓕᓂᓐᓄᓪᓗ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᐸᒃᐳᖓ.” ᐃᓚᓕᐅᔾᔭᐃᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᑰᔨᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓄᑦ, ᓂᕆᖃᑎᒌᒃᐸᒃᖢᓂ, ᐃᓅᑦᑎᐊᕋᓱᐊᖅᖢᓂ, ᐱᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖃᕋᓱᐊᖅᖢᓂ. ᐅᐱᒋᒻᒪᕆᒃᐸᒃᑲ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᒃᑲᒃ ᓇᔭᒃᑲ, ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓪᓗᒋᒡᓗ ᓂᖏᐅᒃᑯᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᒃᑲᒃ ᖁᔭᓕᓪᓗᖓᓗ. ᐅᖃᓕᒫᖅᑕᐅᙱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᖃᖅᑑᒐᓗᐊᖅ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᖑᔪᑎᑐᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᕙᕋ. ᓇᑭᙶᕐᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᓐᓂᓪᓗ ᐅᐱᒍᓱᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᕋ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᓪᓚᕆᒃᐸᒃᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑕᓐᓂ. UA: ᐄ, ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᒃᑕᖃᐅᕐᓂᖅᐸᐅᖃᑕᐅᔪᖅ. ᓂᕆᐅᓇᙱᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᖏᑦᑕ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᖓ ᓖᓴ ᖁᐱᕐᕈᐊᓗᒃ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᖅᐸᕋ ᓂᐅᕕᕋᓱᒃᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᓕᐊᒐᒃᓴᓐᓂᒃ. ᐊᒪᐅᑎᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᓂᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ- ᐃᓚᐅᖃᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒡᓗ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥᐅᑕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᐅᓕᖅᖢᖓ. ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᒋᕗᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑎᒍᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᓇᓕ ᐅᖃᖅᑲᐅᔭᖓᑐᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᓇᔭᖓ ᐊᓯᓐᓇᔭᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔭᓐᓂ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᖅ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᖅᑰᙱᑕᕋᓗᐊᕋ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᒪᐅᑎ ᐊᑐᒐᒃᓴᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᑦ, ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖃᖃᑎᒋᙱᑕᕗᑦ ᓄᑕᖅᑲᓂᒃ ᓇᖕᒪᐅᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᖃᖅᑐᑑᖕᒪᑕ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓂ ᐊᒡᓛᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒪᐅᓯᐅᕈᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓄᑦ ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᑰᔨᓕᖅᐸᒃᑐᖓ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᓕᐅᓕᕌᖓᒪ, ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ

ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᒋᐊᙵᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ.” ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᒌᒡᕕᖃᖅᑐᓂ, ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓂᖅ ᐊᑯᓂᐅᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ. ᐃᓚᐅᖃᑕᐅᓗᐊᖅᐸᙱᑦᑐᖓ. ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᖅᑕᖃᑦᑎᐊᕋᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᑦ ᓇᑭᙶᖅᓯᒪᓃᑦ ᑭᒃᑯᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᐃᓚᖃᕐᓃᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓂᖃᖅᓯᒪᕙᒃᑐᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᒪᑐᒪᙱᑦᑑᒐᓗᐊᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᙶᖅᐸᑕ. ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖃᖃᑎᒌᙱᓐᓂᕐᒨᖅᑰᖅᑐᖅ. NF: ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᐃᓚᓯᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᐱᑦ ᐊᓪᓚᓂᒃ ᑕᒫᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᓂᒃ? ᕚᓐᑰᕙᒦᑦᑐᖓ, ᖃᔅᓰᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᒃᑕᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᓵᓚᐅᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ Facebook- ᑯᑎᒍᑦ. ᓯᕗᓂᐊᒍᑦ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᑦᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᓯᑯᐊᒥᔅᓂᒃ, ᓄᓇᖃᕐᕕᒋᔭᖓ ᖃᓂᒋᔭᓐᓃᒻᒪᑦ. KS: ᐃᓄᙴᔭᕋᓱᖅᑰᔨᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᓪᓗ ᓇᔫᑎᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᓄᓇᓐᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᖅᓯᒪᙱᓐᓇᒪ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᙱᓗᐊᖅᑰᔨᓪᓗᖓᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᓂᒃ. ᖃᐃᖁᔭᐅᓯᒪᔭᕌᖓᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᑎᕕᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᖃᑦᑕᐅᑎᔪᐃᓐᓇᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᓄᓇᖏᑦ ᖃᓂᒌᖕᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᐋᓪᓚᐅᖅᑰᔨᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖓ. ᑭᓯᕐᒥᐅᓕᕋᔪᒃᑐᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓂᑦ, ᕗᕋᑦ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᒃ ᖃᔅᓰᓐᓇᑯᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒻᒥᙶᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓇᓱᒃᖢᓂ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᙱᒻᒪᑕ. ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᓂᐊᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓂᑖᕈᓐᓇᖅᓯᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᙱᑦᑐᖓ. NF: ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒻᒥᙶᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᒦᑦᑐᒃᓴᐅᓇᓱᒋᔭᒃᑲ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᒃᑲ ᑕᐅᕙᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐃᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ, ᑕᐅᕙᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓯᒪᔪᕕᓂᐅᒐᓗᐊᕈᑎᒃ.

OPPOSITE

Kale Sheppard — Connected 2023 Pencil crayon and graphite 35.6 × 43.2 cm ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑲᐃᓕ ᓴᐸᑦ — ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᓂᖅ 2023 ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᑦ ᐊᕐᔭᐅᔭᓪᓗ 35.6 × 43.2 cm

Gathering

Rooted Elsewhere

I tend to isolate myself a bit even from the local Inuit community, because other than Fred I’ve only met a few people from Nunatsiavut. It’s been hard finding information on Nunatsiavut culture, because it is different from the other communities. I’m just really struggling with finding my community. NF: I think a lot of people from Nunatsiavut share that struggle. My friends from there are voicing the same concerns, even if they grew up there. KS: That makes me feel a little bit better. But art-wise, my work is mostly based in nature, animals and the land. The land is something that’s as old as time, something that connects me to my ancestors, and connects all of us. And so that’s always been the main focus of my work. When I had my first solo art exhibition, my partner’s mom mentioned that I didn’t depict a single person. She was right—I really struggle with depicting something that I don’t feel right to represent, in a way. I still don’t know too many Inuit here. Social media has been nice though, because I can see people who live in places like Nain, Nunatsiavut, NL, where they are a little bit more traditional. I’ve always been drawn to nature and the land, and through social media I get to see Inuit Nunangat even though I don’t live there. NF: Social media has made a big difference for me, too. I grew up in Vancouver from like eight years old to twenty. In the ’90s, long-distance phone calls were very expensive and being away from family was hard. Now, having moved back to the South for school and living in Vancouver, I feel so much more connected. I can see family every day on Facebook and Instagram, and I have friends who I maybe haven’t met in person, but incredible Inuit artists who I’m in awe of follow me because I followed them and I have some connection to Inuit art. If you experienced living in the South prior to social media, I’m wondering if anyone else notices a big difference? NW: Growing up in Iqaluit and Kuujjuaq, your Inuit community is unavoidable. Coming south, it was something like I realized I had to put work into. With social media, it’s more accessible, a lot easier to do. Seeing different people, different areas and places where I wouldn’t be exposed to otherwise has been nice. I have that same thing as Kale, where I don’t have people in anything I make. But for me, I started to do art when I was feeling disconnected from pretty much everything, especially Inuit and community. I started doing art for myself. Lately I’ve started to make prints using block printing specifically for friends and family. I do the

OPPOSITE

Ujarak Appadoo — Ummatinut 2023 Wool duffle, wool melton, acrylic yarn and embroidery thread 64.8 × 69.9 cm

Inuit Art Quarterly

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐅᔭᕋᒃ ᐊᑉᐸᑐ — ᐆᒻᒪᑎᓄᑦ 2023 ᔭᐸᒃᓴᖅ, ᔭᐸᒃᓴᐅᔭᖅ, ᓄᕕᖅᓵᒃᓴᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑕᖅᓯᖅᓱᐃᔾᔪᑎᑦ 64.8 × 69.9 cm

Winter 2023

KS: ᐊᑲᐅᓯᕚᓪᓕᐊᕐᔪᒍᑎᒋᕙᕋ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᕙᒃᑕᒃᑲ ᐊᕙᑎᑦᑎᓐᓂᙶᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᐆᒪᔪᕐᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᓪᓗ. ᓄᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᙵᓂᑐᖄᓘᖕᒪᑦ, ᓯᕗᓕᓐᓄᑦ ᑲᓱᕈᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᒍ, ᑕᒪᑦᑎᓐᓄᓕᒫᖅ ᑲᓱᕈᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᕗᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᔭᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒌᓐᓇᐅᔭᖅᑕᒃᑲ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᕐᒥ ᑭᓯᕐᒥᐅᖅᖢᖓ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᒐᒪ, ᐱᖃᑎᒪ ᐊᓈᓇᖓ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᒥᒡᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑦᑎᓯᒪᙱᓐᓂᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᒻᒪᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ - ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕋᓱᒋᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᑭᓱᙳᐊᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᙱᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᓈᒻᒪᖅᑰᔨᓚᐅᙱᒻᒪᑦ, ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ. ᓱᓕ ᐊᒥᓲᓗᐊᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖃᖅᑐᖓ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᕋᒪ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓇᐃᓂ, ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᑦ, ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒦᑦᑐᓂᒃ, ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ. ᐊᕙᑎᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᑦᑎᓐᓄᓪᓗ ᓵᙵᐃᓐᓇᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ, ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᖓ ᑕᐅᕙᓃᙱᒃᑲᓗᐊᕈᒪ. NF: ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᖕᒥᔪᖓ. ᕚᓐᑰᕙᒥ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᖃᖅᖢᖓ 8-ᓂᑦ 20-ᒧᑦ. ‘90-ᖏᓐᓂ, ᐅᖓᓯᒃᑐᒧᑦ ᐅᖃᓗᒋᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᑭᑐᔪᒻᒪᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑦ ᐃᓚᓂᓪᓗ ᐊᕗᑎᓯᒪᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᕐᓇᖅᖢᓂ. ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᑎᖅᓯᒪᓕᕋᒪ

Gathering

ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᖅᖢᖓ ᕚᓐᑰᕙᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓᓗ ᑲᓱᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓂᖅᓴᐅᖅᑰᔨᓕᖅᑐᖓ. ᐃᓚᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᑦ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖓ Facebook-ᒃᑯᑦ Instagram-ᒃᑯᓪᓗ, ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᖃᖅᖢᖓᓗ ᐊᐴᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᙱᑕᓐᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᐃᑦ ᐅᐱᖅᑲᒋᔭᒃᑲ ᐅᕙᓐᓂᒃ ᒪᓕᒃᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᒪᓕᒃᐸᒃᑲᒃᑭᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᓐᓇᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒍᕕᑦ ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᑎᓐᓇᒍ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕐᔪᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ ᐅᔾᔨᕆᔭᖃᖅᓯᒪᕕᓯᑦᑕᐅᖅ? NW: ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂ ᑰᔾᔪᐊᕐᒥᓗ, ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᐴᑎᙱᑕᖃᕐᕕᒃᓴᐅᙱᒻᒪᑦ. ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓄᐊᖅᖢᖓ, ᖃᐅᔨᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᔭᕆᐊᖃᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ, ᐱᔭᕐᓂᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᖅ, ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᒻᒪᕆᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ. ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓇᔭᙱᑕᓐᓂᒃ, ᓄᓇᓂᒃ ᐅᐸᒐᔭᙱᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓕᐊᓇᐃᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᑲᐃᓕᑑᖅᑐᖓ, ᐃᓄᙳᐊᓕᐅᖅᐸᙱᑦᑐᖓ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓐᓂ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᐸᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᖅᑰᔨᙱᓗᐊᕐᓂᓐᓄᑦ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓄᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓄᓪᓗ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᐸᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐅᕙᓐᓅᖓᔪᓂᒃ.

Rooted Elsewhere

repetitive process, but make each thing a little bit different for the person. That’s how I’ve been doing art and also building community at the same time. It’s been really nice to go from something that is entirely for me to having that connection with the people that matter. NF: So even if the subject matter of your art isn’t necessarily about community, the process is linked to it? NW: Yes, exactly. UA: Before social media I had a lot more anxiety expressing that I’m Inuk and who my family is. I would attend certain events, but I found it uncomfortable when people would ask my connection to being Inuk, since my dad didn’t really raise me. I was afraid of being attacked, even from people back home. That was my biggest anxiety before being more openly Inuk online. But I feel there are a lot more mixed and urban Inuit on social media. You see more of yourself and you’re less afraid to share some struggles or that you’re not all-knowledgeable in your Inukness—you’re still learning how to do things that our ancestors did. In my wallhangings, I try to depict tools and things that Inuit have used over time. I want to say that the things we invented as a people are timeless. The ulu should be around forever, because that is a really good invention. Same with the amauti and throat singing.

Inuit Art Quarterly

YM: I definitely agree. Social media can be a weird place, but there’s also some bright shining lights that come out of there. If someone challenges you on your Inukness on an online platform, you have this wonderful sense of community that will back you up and say, ‘We know this person, we claim this person, this is their community, this is their family.’ I always try to celebrate who we are when showcasing my art online, picturing it with other Inuit items or backgrounds—if I’m going to put something on my social media, maybe I’ll put jewellery on fabric created by Inuk makers, or I’ll be wearing silapaq if I’m in actual photos, showing things that are being made by seamstresses from different regions. It’s important to celebrate the community that’s around me. Social media helps retain that community because it’s so much easier to connect to and stay connected with others. UA: I feel like we just have each other’s back online. You’ll follow big artists and they’ll follow you back. There is definitely some mutual support because we’re Inuk and we have something in common. YM: We all boost each other. It’s nice to know that even if we are southern now or urban now, or whatever our circumstances are not being in your home community or region, it doesn’t make that difference as strongly anymore online.

Winter 2023

ᒫᓐᓇ ᐊᒥᓱᓕᐅᒐᒃᓴᓕᐅᖅᐸᓕᖅᑐᖓ ᐅᑎᖅᑕᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑐᕌᖅᑎᖦᖢᒋᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᓐᓄᓪᓗ. ᐅᑎᖅᑕᖅᑐᓕᐅᖅᐸᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᑐᖓ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᔭᒃᑲ ᐊᑐᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᐊᕐᔪᒃᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒃᑐᓄᓪᓗ ᐃᓚᐅᖃᑕᐅᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᐱᐅᔪᐊᓘᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᓐᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᒐᒪ ᐊᓯᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᑐᕌᖓᔪᓂᒃ. NF: ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑕᑎᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᑦ ᒥᒃᓵᓅᖓᙱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᐸᑕ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᖅᑐᑦ? NW: ᐄ, ᐄᑦᑎᐊᖅ. UA: ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᑎᓐᓇᒍ ᖁᓱᓂᖅᓴᒻᒪᕆᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᓅᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᒃᑲᓗ ᑭᒃᑰᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᐸᒍᑎᔪᓐᓇᖅᐸᒃᖢᖓ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓗᐊᕆᕙᖕᓇᒍ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓕᕌᖓᒪ ᑭᒃᑯᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᕐᒪᖔᕐᒪ, ᐊᑖᑕᓐᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓗᐊᓚᐅᙱᓐᓇᒪ. ᓵᑕᐅᓂᐊᕋᓱᒋᕙᓚᐅᕋᒪ, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᓐᓂᙶᖅᑐᓂᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᒋᓂᖅᐹᕆᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ ᖃᕋᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓅᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑎᓐᓇᖓ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᓲᓂᖅᓴᐅᖕᒪᑕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᓖᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓪᓗ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐃᑦ. ᐊᔾᔨᒋᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓇᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᕈᓐᓇᕐᒪᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᕈᑎᒋᓯᒪᔭᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐅᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐃᓅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓗᐊᕌᓗᙱᓐᓂᕐᒥᒃ-ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᒐᕕᑦ ᓱᓕ ᓯᕗᓕᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᓴᓂᕋᕐᒥᐅᑕᓕᐊᕆᕙᒃᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᑦᑎᓇᓱᒃᐸᒃᑐᖓ ᐃᒋᕐᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᓪᓗ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᓅᓪᓗᑕ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ

ᓄᖑᓐᓂᐊᙱᒻᒪᑕ. ᐅᓗᑕᖃᐃᓐᓇᐅᔭᑦᑎᐊᓪᓗᐊᖅᑐᖅ, ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᐅᕆᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓ. ᐊᒪᐅᑎᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᑕᔾᔭᕐᓂᖅ. YM: ᐊᖏᕈᑎᒋᒻᒪᕆᒃᑕᕋ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᙱᑦᑑᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐱᐅᔪᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᒡᕕᐅᔪᓐᓇᕆᓪᓗᓂ. ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᑐᖃᕋᓱᒃᐸᑦ ᐃᓅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᖔᖅᐱᑦ ᖃᕋᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᑦᑎᐊᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑎᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ, ‘ᐅᓇ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᕋ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᔭᕗᑦ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓚᒋᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ.’ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᒋᓇᓱᐃᓐᓇᐅᔭᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᕗᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᖅᑭᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓕᕌᖓᑦᑕ, ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓕᐅᖅᖢᒍ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᙶᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ-ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓂᐊᕈᒪ ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ, ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᖅᓴᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᒥᒡᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᒧᑦ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᔾᔨᓯᒪᓗᒍ, ᐊᑐᕐᓗᖓᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓯᓚᐹᕐᓂᒃ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑎᓄᑦ ᓇᑭᑐᐃᓐᓈᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᖓ. ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᔭᒃᑲ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑎᒋᔭᕆᐊᖃᕐᓂᖏᑦ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᑲᓱᖃᑎᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᓯᓐᓂᒃ. UA: ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᑭᐊᖅᑭᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓱᐃᖃᑎᒌᒃᖢᑕ. ᒪᓕᒡᓗᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᒃ ᒪᓕᒃᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᑎᓪᓗ. ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎᒌᖕᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓂᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᒃᑐᓂᒡᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖃᕐᓂᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ. YM: ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓱᐃᖃᑎᒌᒃᐸᒃᑐᒍᑦ. ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓕᕋᓗᐊᕈᑦᑕ, ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᒥᒡᓗ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᕐᓗᑕ ᓄᓇᑦᑎᓐᓃᑦᑐᓃᕋᓗᐊᕈᑦᑕ, ᐃᑭᐊᖅᑭᕕᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᙱᑦᑑᓗᐊᕈᓐᓃᕋᑦᑕ.

OPPOSITE

Naluturuk (Nally) Weetaluktuk — Little Buddies 2023 Photograph with digital illustration ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᓇᓗᑐᕈᒃ (ᓇᓕ) ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ — ᐱᖃᑎᑯᓗᒌᒃ 2023 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᖃᕋᓴᐅᔭᒃᑰᖅᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ

Initial stages of the digital illustration process ᐱᒋᐊᓕᓵᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᕙᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖏᑦ

Gathering

Rooted Elsewhere

Suited for

e c n a n e t us — by Ilegvak

For Alaska Native artists, rebuilding an understanding of traditional fish skin–tanning and fish skin–sewing methods is a layered process: retracing techniques through detective work and hands-on experimentation. For practitioners like Marlene Nielsen, it also includes the vital work of passing that knowledge on.

The beginning stages of a fish-skin basket showing panels of skin and tails held together with sinew, 2021 ALL COURTESY MARLENE NIELSEN UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED

Inuit Art Quarterly

ABOVE

OPPOSITE (TOP LEFT)

OPPOSITE (TOP RIGHT)

Overflow sockeye salmon skins drying on a clothesline, 2016

Marlene Nielsen demonstrates the difficulty of sewing strips of sockeye salmon together due to the toughness of the material. She wears a thimble and bandage for protection, 2020

A mask made from sockeye salmon skin and fins as well as beaver and wolf fur, 2021

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Marlene Nielsen with participants during the Sewing Salmon project at the Ancorage Museum, 2012 COURTESY SMITHSONIAN ARCTIC STUDIES CENTER PHOTO WAYDE CARROLL

Winter 2023

Over the last several years, I have been researching the traditional use of fish skin, speaking with Alaska Native artists who are reviving the practice. I reached out to a few Alaska Native artists throughout the various regions. Among these was Mangyepsa Gyipaayg Kandi McGilton, a Ts’msyen beadwork artist and cedar-bark weaver from Maxłakxaała (Metlakatla), Alaska. Kandi replied about working with fish skin, saying, “That wasn’t really something the Ts’msyen did as far as I know.” 1 She noted that in the discussions she’d had with Southeast Alaska artists the only use of fish skin they could think of was using shark skin for sandpaper. “In fact, they’ve all in one form or another shared my thought, that fish skin is so delicious we always eat it.” Kandi and I talked about the historically preferred use of cedar bark for garments by Ts’msyen, Tlingit and Haida. In comparison, other regions in Alaska do not

Gathering

have tree species conducive to clothing construction, which may have contributed to a greater reliance on wearing fish skin in different Alaska Native cultures. Fashioning clothing from trees and food sources draws a direct connection between the people, animals and surrounding nature. Pulling apart all the colonial threads that led to the erasure of Alaska Native fish-skin artwork is beyond the breadth of this article. Nevertheless it’s essential to briefly note that forced assimilation created a multigenerational knowledge disconnect through systematic shaming, theft, discriminatory laws, the weaponization of Western education by boarding schools and the replacement of traditional materials, such as animal skins and plants with synthetic materials and a new hierarchy of value. The repercussions of this erasure are still felt today, including the lasting impacts of genocide, which forces

Suited for Sustenance

Indigenous Peoples to prioritize the monumental struggle of trying to stay alive above preserving cultural practices and traditions. This history makes the role of teachers who can share knowledge about working with fish skin even more vital for the revival of the practice. A significant moment in the revival of using fish skin was in December 2012 when artists Marlene Nielsen (Yup’ik), Audrey Armstrong (Koyukon Athabascan) and Coral Chernoff (Sugpiaq), who were already individually revitalizing the tradition, came together for the Sewing Salmon project, hosted by the Smithsonian Institution’s Arctic Studies Center at the Anchorage Museum in Alaska. They shared tanning and sewing techniques for creating clothing and art, examined ancestral objects in the museum’s collection and made educational videos from the workshop. From the fall of 2021 to the late winter of 2022, Marlene, who began her own fish-skin art learning journey in 2002, taught me how to make a Yup’ik fish-skin hood through traditional tanning and sewing techniques. Marlene is Yup’ik from Qarr’unaq (Kokhanok), Alaska, located on the south shore of Lake Iliamna, the largest lake in Alaska. While reflecting on her search for knowledge, Marlene talked about growing up in Alaska. “We were taught really not to ask too many questions when we were younger,” 2 she said. “I think it was [because] they were afraid to be rude. So that’s why I try to teach a lot of the stuff so people know it’s okay. So we don’t lose our art anymore.” Early in Marlene’s exploration about working traditionally with fish skin, she spoke with an Elder who was Dena’ina from Nundaltin (Nondalton), Alaska and Yup’ik from Qarr’unaq (Kokhanok), Alaska. “I know there was a lady in the lake area up in Nondalton [who] said that they used urine tanning. She said she faintly remembers using that.” She noted that the Elder had passed away years ago, but she had done a little work with fish skin, making tiny earrings and sharing memories with Marlene about seeing her parents use fish skin for summer and fall boots. The material, which is incredibly light, is too thin to wear in colder weather where thicker insulation is necessary to keep warm. I told Marlene that I’d heard Yup’ik qayaq for men were traditionally made custom-measured according to individual body proportions and expressed my interest in learning this traditional method of customization in garment pattern making. She expanded: saying, “They always just tried it on. If it was a little bit too big they’d make it smaller. So they always try to make it a little bit bigger because you could always make it smaller.” This is the method Marlene used to create her stunning salmon-skin parka. She laid the tanned skins over her own body, following the contours of her form to ensure a precise fit. Marlene uses different methods to preserve fish skin after she scrapes and washes it, including utilizing tannins from birch bark and rubbing alcohol. As she studied the tanning process, she also experimented with various types of oil with varying degrees of success until she settled on mink oil as the best, most absorbent fat preservative. It saddens her to see younger generations giving up the practice of smoking fish. “Long time ago, my mom said that they used to have to put up smokehouses. Their smokehouses probably were about 30 to 40 feet long and they would fill those smokehouses up probably four to five times every summer. Then they’d go and get fall fish,” she says. The regular practice was important for

Inuit Art Quarterly

ABOVE (TOP)

ABOVE (BOTTOM)

Drying spawned out sockeye salmon skin which take on a red colour in fresh water, 2021

Marlene Nielsen wearing a coat and boots made from sockeye salmon and a bag made from Dolly Varden trout, rainbow trout and sockeye salmon, 2016 OPPOSITE

A basket made from sockeye salmon skin and tails, 2021

Winter 2023

NOTES

All quotes Mangyepsa Gyipaayg Kandi McGilton, interview with Ilegvak, August 2020.

All quotes Marlene Nielsen, interview with Ilegvak, fall 2021.

techniques from various cultures in their quest for sustainability. They aim to address serious concerns such as the prevalent use of toxic chromium in leather production. However, many European leather craftspeople—despite their desire to claim sustainability— appear reluctant to accept the “quality” of traditional practices. They seem unwilling to acknowledge that their current standards are part of the problem and that these traditional methods have served for thousands of years. What’s required is not just a superficial shift for marketing purposes but a genuine cultural transition. When I asked Marlene why she spent 20 plus years learning about working with fish skin, she said, “It was a lost art. Nobody knew anything about it. Nobody even thought about working on fish skin around the lake area.” But through the tireless work she and other dedicated Alaska Native artists have put in over the last few decades, our knowledge base is growing so that new generations can maintain the traditions of our peoples.

the community as both an ongoing source of food and sewing material. Marlene noted that even just a little piece of skin, if cured a certain way, could be boiled to make a broth that would sustain people through times of starvation. “A lot of my skins I try not to preserve because one of these days it might save someone, but the skins that I do preserve, I have them labeled saying what was used on them. So that was another reason why we preserved a lot of fish. This was the most sustainable animal that we had in our area and that we’re able to live off of during starvation.” Harvesting bark, boiling it to extract the tannins and then soaking skins in that solution represents the most common Alaska Native traditional tanning method for fish skin today. However, this process is time-consuming, energy intensive and resource heavy, especially for a material that is not as durable as others, such as deer or moosehide. Using urine—an easily accessible resource—presents a more practical method for preserving fish skin. Evidence that supports this technique can also be found in museum collections I have explored, but when I asked Marlene about it, she recalled only trying it once. “I went to a lot of shows, and a lot of craft fairs,” she said. “And when you talk about urine tanning people kind of turn away and say they don’t want to bother with that skin because it was cured by urine.” This closed-mindedness resonates with my own experiences working with animal skins in art and fashion with non-Indigenous people. In recent years, folks from the European luxury leather industry have been exploring traditional tanning and dyeing

Gathering

— Ilegvak is a Fellow in the Inuit Art Foundation’s Alaska Native Art Writing Fellowship program and a 2022 United States Artists Fellow. He is originally from his family’s village of Akiaq, now based in Sheet’ká. He is currently writing a non-fiction book on the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act. He has been published in First Alaskans Magazine and Inuit Art Quarterly. His visual art has been shown at museums, galleries and fashion runways across Turtle Island.

Suited for Sustenance

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artist of the month of december Elisapie Inuktitut Album, 2023, Earrings: Anouapik Photo: Leeor Wild

Wholesaling Inuit art since 1967

Lucassie Echalook

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“This man got an otter and is joyful. Otters are rarely caught because they dwell in rivers and are hard to hunt." (2011)

bN Xusgg[i xoxog bfx wMixl W/sh fuhAmb xJNh riExu (2011) 22 ¼ x 17 ¼ x 10 ¼ cm Serpentine

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Winter 2023

Kajungiqsaut Grants is back and currently accepting applications!

Open to Inuit creatives working across all artistic disciplines. Apply now!

Iniqarvik (To Have Space) provides Inuit creatives from all disciplines the financial support to research, experiment, begin or complete new works, or plan future creations. Small scale proposals from all disciplines will be accepted for grants of $3,500.

Turaagaq (Vision) is designed for those who are planning larger projects and can help bring your creative visions to life. Proposals from all disciplines will be accepted for grants of $5,000, $10,000, or $15,000.

Deadline: January 29, 2024 at 11:59pm EST To learn more please visit: inuitartfoundation.org/grants

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CURATORIAL NOTES

The Shape a Name Takes University of Lethbridge Art Gallery JUNE 16–OCTOBER 21, 2023 LETHBRIDGE, AB

Content note: This article contains a discussion of colonial erasure of Inuit-naming traditions and a brief mention of disc numbers.

When Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak, Curatorial Assistant at the University of Lethbridge Art Gallery in Alberta, began working with the gallery’s collection, she noticed a gap. “There were 124 unique artworks labelled ‘unknown artist,’” she says. While unidentified works are relatively common in institutional collections, the lack of attribution for Inuit art often coincides with a broader colonial erasure of traditional Inuit-naming practices through the use of the disc number system, which was imposed on Inuit in the Northwest Territories (now Northwest Territories and Nunavut) and Quebec between 1941–1978. In lieu of surnames, which Inuit did not historically have, the Canadian government issued Inuit and Inuvialuit disc numbers stamped onto leather discs and worn around the necks. The lack of attribution for artwork with names carved in Inuktitut syllabics and easily searchable disc numbers reflects the operations of an often-unequal art market. “When I noticed the unidentified works, I decided figuring out the artists was a project that felt really meaningful to me,” Eegeesiak says. Determined to bring the works’ makers into the light, Eegeesiak embarked on a research project that eventually became the exhibition The Shape a Name Takes. “The entire process of going from ‘unknown artist’ to finding a name felt connected to how Inuit resist colonialism,” Eegeesiak explains, describing how celebrating Inuit naming practices is baked into the project. “Taking the time to learn, remember and appreciate our names—in art collections and beyond—is in every part of the show. By presenting all of these identified artists’ work together, we can see each artist’s distinct styles, materials, skills, narratives and names, but also we can know where they are from and who their relatives are.” Ultimately, she identified 38 of the 124 previously unattributed works. Twenty-five of those pieces were on display in the exhibition this fall at the University of Lethbridge Art Gallery’s Helen Christou Gallery, when Inuit Art Quarterly spoke with Eegeesiak about the show.

Inuit Art Quarterly

ABOVE

Installation view of The Shape a Name Takes, 2023 ALL COURTESY UNIVERSITY OF LETHBRIDGE ART GALLERY COLLECTION ALL © THE ARTISTS

OPPOSITE (LEFT TOP)

Davidialuk Alasua Amittu — Upset by His Prey 1962 Stonecut 35.6 × 69.8 cm OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Andy Miki — Bear n.d. Stone 19.1 × 20 × 3.8 cm OPPOSITE (LEFT BOTTOM)

Nalenik Temela — Narwhal n.d. Stone and caribou antler 22.9 × 61.6 × 13.9 cm

Winter 2023

CURATORIAL NOTES

thinking about shape and that’s connected to an artist’s individual style and identity. Did anything surprise you during the curatorial process? There were two couples—Sarah and Johnassie Kavik (1916–1984) and Maggie and Mark Nakoolak (1930–2017)—and a mother-daughter duo—Anne Mikpiga (1900–1984) and Alasi Audla Tullaugak—included among the 38 artists identified, and that made everything feel really connected. What kind of mood did you want to evoke? I wanted to evoke curiosity and a sense of appreciation for Inuit names. With the Puvirnituq, Nunavik, QC, prints, which are all annotated in syllabics, I included a syllabics chart in the installation to encourage people to use them to translate those annotations and to recognize some syllabics in the future. I think a lot of people who aren’t familiar with art collections don’t know that they can include artworks with little information. Lots of people in southern Alberta also don’t know about Inuit-naming traditions. So the show is a conversation starter. If you could imagine this as a travelling show, where would you want it to go? A lot of the artworks are from Sanikiluaq, NU, and Puvirnituq. It would be awesome if the artists’ families could see them in the North and share oral histories.

What was the process for identifying works in the show? For sculptures, I flipped them over to see if there were inscriptions on the bottom. Usually that was a disc number or syllabics, which I could match with an artist. I got to practice reading syllabics, which I really appreciated because I don’t speak Inuktitut. It was fulfilling investigation work for me when I could uncover a name. What were your goals for the exhibition? I wanted to talk about naming practices and their beauty. It kept coming up while I was identifying artists’ names: how naming practices were interfered with, but how they still endure. Tell us about the show’s title. The Shape a Name Takes refers to multiple ideas, one of them being namesakes. When a child is given a name, they take on the soul, kinship relationships and traits of a namesake, which shapes them as a person and part of the community. Inuit namesake practices differ between places, families and other factors, and these variations are reflected in the statement the title makes as well. The title of the show is also about how the artists chose to sign their artwork and what that tells us about how artists self-identify and the contexts they are working in. Also, the act of creating a sculpture or print fundamentally involves

Andy Miki Bear (n.d.) This bear by Andy Miki (1918–1983) is one of my favourite sculptures in the exhibition. I love his distinctive geometric carving style and the title of the show really suits his work—the way hard stone from Arviat, NU, influenced Miki’s minimalist form says a lot, geographically and artistically. There are quite a few nanuq carvings in the collection, and this one is unlike all the others.

Davidialuk Alasua Amittu Upset by His Prey (1962) This print was part of the 1962 Puvirnituq print collection. I learned while working on this project that Puvirnituq print artists would often carve their name in syllabics within the steatite itself, and you can see that in Davidialuk Alasua Amittu’s (1910–1976) name at the bottom of the stone block. I also love how the print utilizes the natural irregular edge of the stone block as a part of the artwork itself.

Nalenik Temela Narwhal (n.d.) For this narwhal carving, Nalenik Temela (1939–2003) carved the tusk from caribou antler. The use of various resources is reflective of the ingenuity of Inuit, not just in artwork but in our cultures in general. There are elements of ivory, whalebone, sinew, paper and wood throughout the exhibition. The use of different materials shows how interconnected we are with the land, the water and other beings. This sculpture really embraces and encompasses those ideas. Gathering

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TRIBUTE

BELOW (TOP)

Bobby Taylor Pokiak

Bobby Taylor Pokiak — Untitled 1969 Ivory and red ink 5.7 × 7.6 × 3.2 cm COURTESY WADDINGTON’S AUCTIONEERS AND APPRAISERS, TORONTO ALL © THE ARTIST

by Priscilla Boulay

My Daduck (grandfather), Bobby Taylor Pokiak, was an Inuvialuk sculptor; he was born in May 1927 and passed away in 2005. He was more than just an Elder in Tuktuuyaqtuuq (Tuktoyaktuk), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT; he taught our family how to create art from animal bones and antlers. How he learned the skill remains a mystery, but some say he saw someone else do it and decided to give it a try. I can still picture him, always with one old glove on, holding a piece of animal bone in one hand and a file in the other. With simple tools such as chisels and saws, he would craft beautiful carvings of owls, swans and geese. I have one special sculpture that he made out of caribou antler that depicts a bird flying over Inuit Art Quarterly

another bird tending to its nest. This piece holds deep meaning for me: it serves as a constant reminder of family, love and Daduck’s wisdom, encapsulated in every stroke. And Daduck wasn’t just a carver; he was also an experienced fisherman who taught us the ropes of fishing and checking fishnets. Those fishing trips were more than just enjoyable outings; they were invaluable lessons in survival. Daduck showed us how to clean the fish, cut them into pieces and prepare them for the long winter ahead. Every step required patience and hard work, but, just as with carving, he was always there to guide us. Today there are 12 sculptors in my family: five of my Daduck’s seven children— William, Ryan, Verna, Maryanne and Ronnie 66

Winter 2023

TRIBUTE

(1967–2018)—and seven of his grandchildren—my cousins John, Curtis and Derek, as well as my siblings Vaughan, Denise, Marion and me. Most of us carve part time, while a few like my mother, Maryanne Taylor-Reid, and my uncle, Derrald Taylor, carve full time. Mom can carve women sewing better than anyone I know, while Uncle Derrald is celebrated for flowing, naturalistic depictions of wildlife and cultural activities such as drum dancing. He was the first person to involve me in carving, handing me a small, partially finished sculpture to polish when I was just three. I create more jewellery now, but I am still working with some of the same natural materials my Daduck did. The only bird that I have carved so far—a piece called Love Birds (2022) created from two muskox horns that are shaped into a heart— is one of the most similar pieces I have ever made to my Daduck’s works. Carving for me is more than just creating art; it’s a way to remember the moments we shared and the valuable lessons he imparted. Natural materials have become harder to come by for many of us, so while my Daduck used mostly antler, bone and horn, his children and grandchildren carve now more with stone, and many of us use power tools instead of the hand tools Daduck favoured. Although we each make different things, we strive for one goal: to carry on Daduck’s traditions. Our family’s carving tradition is a means of preserving our history, celebrating the present and securing a bright future for generations. Thanks to my Daduck, Bobby Taylor Pokiak, our family’s artistic journey will endure with his memories and stories living on in every piece we create. With each carving, we etch his legacy into our family’s craft, ensuring that his spirit lives on for generations to come.

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Portrait of Bobby Taylor Pokiak, date unknown COURTESY INUVIALUIT CARVERS

ABOVE (LEFT)

Maryanne Taylor-Reid — Endless Nights 2023 Steatite, fur and moose hide 25.4 × 25.4 × 15.2 cm

— Born and raised in the hamlet of Tuktuuyaqtuuq, NT, Priscilla Boulay is the first born of Maryanne Taylor-Reid. Her talent was passed down from her late Daduck Bobby Taylor Pokiak to her mom, aunts, uncles and other relatives. Now living in Calgary, AB, she takes the pieces left from carving antlers, ivory and muskox horn to create beautiful jewellery.

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COURTESY INUVIALUIT CARVERS

ABOVE (RIGHT TOP)

Derrald Taylor — Eagle c. 2016 Serpentinite and moose antler 30.5 × 10.2 × 12.7 cm COURTESY INUIT GALLERY OF VANCOUVER

ABOVE (RIGHT BOTTOM)

Priscilla Boulay — Love Birds 2021 Muskox horn and steatite 17.8 × 17.8 × 7.6 cm COURTESY INUVIALUIT CARVERS

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NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

LEFT

RIGHT

Aoudla Pudlat — Untitled n.d. Chalk, coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 33.3 × 25.4 cm

Carol Kunnuk and Lucy Tulugarjuk on the set of Tautuktavuk (What We See) (2023) COURTESY ISUMA DISTRIBUTION INTERNATIONAL © THE ARTIST

Ningiukulu Teevee Wins 2023 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award

New Funding Added to the Digitization and Preservation of Inuit Art The McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, ON, and the Dennos Museum Center in Traverse City, Michigan, which both boast major collections of Inuit art, have each received significant funding to caretake their collections. Then Minister of Canadian Heritage, The Honourable Pablo Rodriguez, announced in June that the federal government would provide more than $430,000 to the McMichael to digitize a selection drawings from artists in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, which have been held in trust at the McMichael since the 1990s. The Dennos Museum Center announced in August that it had received two grants totalling $20,110 from the Institute of Museum and Library Services and the National Endowment for the Humanities Preservation Assistance Grant program, slated to ensure protections for light-sensitive works and against environmental damage for approximately 1,600 Inuit prints and sculptures from Canada, Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland) and Alaska.

Inuit Art Quarterly

The Inuit Art Foundation (IAF) is thrilled to announce that in September Ningiukulu Teevee has won the 2023 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award (KAMA), a biennial prize that facilitates opportunities for Inuit artists’ development and career growth. Based in Kinngait, the self-taught graphic artist was named the winner at a ceremony held at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG)-Qaumajuq, KAMA’s programming partner, during the opening of Gasoline Rainbows, the solo show of 2021 KAMA winner Tarralik Duffy. Teevee is highly regarded as a skillful storyteller, celebrated for her playful drawings and prints that reimagine traditional stories with contemporary flair. Her 2009 debut children’s book, Alego, was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Literary Award for children’s illustration. “Teevee has been producing storied, humorous and insightful works of art for nearly two decades,” says Dr. Heather Igloliorte, RCA, President of the Inuit Art Foundation Board of Directors. “She richly deserves this recognition.” For the first time, a longlist of ten artists was selected for the award, before being narrowed down to a shortlist of five, with accompanying cash prizes and exposure opportunities awarded at both stages. The expansion to KAMA is due to the support of donors and the IAF’s partnership with RBC Emerging Artists. Manasie Akpaliapik, Deantha Edmunds, Billy Gauthier, Glenn Gear, Maureen Gruben, Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona, Kablusiak, Gloria Inugaq Putumiraqtuq and Couzyn van Heuvelen were longlisted alongside Teevee, with Gauthier, Gruben, Kabloona and Kablusiak proceeding to the shortlist. The artists were selected by an all-Inuit jury comprising painter and sculptor Logan Ruben, artist and curator Jocelyn Piirainen, and Tarralik Duffy, as the 2021 KAMA winner. In addition to $20,000 in prize money, Teevee will receive a catalogue, residency and solo exhibition slated for fall 2025. 70

Tautuktavuk (What We See) Wins Awards at TIFF, ImagineNATIVE The Amplify Voices Award for Best BIPOC Canadian First Feature film, which recognizes under-represented filmmakers in Canada, was this year won by Tautuktavuk (What We See) (2023) at the Toronto International Film Festival. Co-directors Carol Kunnuk and Lucy Tulugarjuk star in the film as two sisters who connect over Zoom during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic to talk about a particularly traumatic night that caused one sister to leave Iglulik, NU. In a statement, the jury praised Kunnuk and Tulugarjuk for, “powerfully navigating difficult and necessary conversations from a place of unapologetic ownership and unwavering communal care.” Later that fall, Tautukavuk (What We See) was also recognized by jurors at the imagineNATIVE Film + Media Arts Festival, where it won the Sun Jury Award, a $2,500 prize that recognizes outstanding work regardless of the length or genre of the film. “I hope people take a moment to talk about family and how they feel,” Tulugarjuk told IAQ in an interview shortly after the win was announced. “I hope that someone— hopefully a handful—will say it’s okay to ask for help.”

Winter 2023

LEFT

CENTRE

RIGHT

Album cover for Elisapie’s fourth solo album, Inuktitut (2023)

Tuktu (Caribou), part of the qiaqsutuq (2023) installation created by Jamesie Fournier, Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich, Coco Lynge, Malayah Enooyah Maloney and Taqralik Partridge for Nocturne 2023

COURTESY BONSOUND

COURTESY IAF

Tarralik Duffy Opens Pop Art Mural at OnSite Gallery

Montreal Museum of Fine Arts to Double Dedicated Floorspace for Inuit Exhibitions

Up Front: Inuit Public Art at Onsite Gallery continues its two-year run of public digital art murals with Fresh Pop (2023), a 10-ft digital art piece by multidisciplinary artist Tarralik Duffy consisting of bold, bright soda cans emblazoned with syllabics, which continues Duffy’s ongoing examination of shelf-ready snack foods and their relationship to everyday Inuit life. Fresh Pop expands on Duffy’s penchant for recontextualizing the foodstuff of her childhood, as well as for repetitive images. “Pop was the ‘black gold’ of the North, and if you’re from Nunavut, you know there’s such a thing as ‘fresh pop,’” says Duffy, who lives and works between Salliq, NU, and Saskatoon, SK. “If a pop has been sitting too long since the last sealift, it starts to lose its freshness.” Duffy’s refreshing pop art has already earned her plenty of recognition: in addition to winning the 2021 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award, she has been twice featured on the cover of the Inuit Art Quarterly and in 2023 had concurrent solo exhibitions at Toronto’s Art Gallery of Ontario and the WAG-Qaumajuq in Manitoba. Fresh Pop is the fourth instalment of the Up Front collaboration between the Inuit Art Foundation and Onsite Gallery at OCAD University, curated by Ryan Rice, which has so far seen pieces by Kablusiak, Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk and Robert Kautuk installed on the exterior wall of OCAD University’s Onsite Gallery on Richmond Street West in Toronto. The partnership is supported by the City of Toronto’s Indigenous Arts and Culture Partnership Fund and the Toronto Friends of the Visual Arts.

The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (MMFA) has announced plans to take a, “bold new narrative approach,” as it redeploys its Inuit art collection in 2024 with the help of visual artist and curator asinnajaq. Currently housed on the top floor of the Claire and Marc Bourgie Pavilion dedicated to Quebec and Canadian art, next year the Inuit art collection will be showcased on the ground floor of the Michal and Renata Hornstein Pavilion for Peace, which has twice the amount of exhibition space. This new space will allow for a broader display of Inuit art from among the MMFA’s collection of more than 900 works by over 300 artists, along with a range of public programming activities including concerts, conferences and symposiums on Inuit art. The new installation is slated to open to the public in fall 2024.

Elisapie Releases Highly Anticipated Fourth Album Inuktitut Inspired by the music of her youth, Elisapie released her fourth solo album, Inuktitut, in September. The ten tracks on the album are all adapted and translated songs from the likes of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Blondie, Fleetwood Mac, Metallica, Queen and Cyndi Lauper, songs that once filled the airwaves of community radio stations across Nunavik. Inuktitut follows from the singer-songwriter’s highly successful The Ballad of the Runaway Girl (2018), which was nominated for the 2019 Juno Award for Indigenous Album of the Year and shortlisted for the 2019 Polaris Music Prize. Each cover on Inuktitut is linked to a person or memory from Elisapie’s past, with the whole album collectively representing an act of cultural reappropriation, offering these songs back to her community as a gift.

Want More Inuit Art News? Inuit Artists Take Over Nocturne with Supersized Climate Exhibition

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LAST LOOK

Padloo Samayualie Fish Steaks

Although we have seen the impact of people gathering together and gathering materials throughout this issue, in this Last Look I wanted to make sure we also shared an image of the driving force behind Inuit gatherings: sharing and, in particular, sharing food. The idea of community has always been central for all human societies, but for Inuit in particular it has been and continues to be centred around the importance of gathering to share food and resources in times of scarcity. Because survival was dependent on cooperation and generosity, the value of serving and providing for family and community is encapsulated in the Inuit guiding principle of pijitsirniq. As the title of this artwork states, the artist is depicting fish steaks, ready for sharing with a family or perhaps a larger community group. Though the image is conspicuously missing people, the implication is that just out of view are a good number of Inuit, hungrily anticipating a sumptuous feast. With an eye for minute detail in all her work that is painstakingly deliberate, Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artist Padloo Samayualie has transformed the humble pencil crayon from a school-bag staple to a tool of high art. The little spot of carmine on the perfectly rendered public housing linoleum tile in the foreground is what brings this piece into the realm of reality for me. A drop of blood that

fell from a blade or the bloody fingers of the chef, unnoticed as the crowd gathered to feast on the world’s most delicious fish. That might be why I love Fish Steaks (2016) so much; it is a scene that is a little more messy than Samayualie’s usual work. While she still leans into her excellent instincts, framing the piece with crisp lines in the cardboard and floor tiles, the scene is a perfect picture of real Inuit life. Whether you are away from home and missing family or feel like an outsider in your ancestral lands, food has the power to bring people together. Whether you speak different languages or disagree about politics, a hot cup of tea and a delicious mouthful of berries can be universally unifying. Like the reimagining of archival work undertaken by many artists, there’s something transcendent about feasting on the same food that sustained our ancestors. When I look at this piece, I can smell my late anaanatsiaq and ataatatsiaq’s house and remember the sweet moments we shared. Despite the usually significant language barrier we struggled with, I could always feel their love most when we were passing around the ulu and listening to the crisp sounds of it slicing into frozen flesh. NAPATSI FOLGER

Guest Editor and Tauttunnguaqti

Padloo Samayualie — Fish Steaks 2016 Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 58 × 76 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY DAVIC GALLERY © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2023

Negotiating Borders / 경계협상

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