Inuit Art Quarterly - Line: At the Edge by Inuit Art Quarterly

INUIT & FIRST NATIONS ART IS OUR PASSION AND OUR SPECIALTY.

CONTENTS

36.1

Inuit Art Quarterly Line

Front

Features

Back ARTIST PROJECT

05 From the Editor

60 Inuit Sovereignty, Inuit Architecture by Nicole Luke

06 Meet the Contributors

CURATORIAL NOTES

08 Impact Update

68 Radical Remembrance: The Sculptures of David Ruben Piqtoukun curated by Wanda Nanibush

5 WORKS

Power Signals

Bill Nasogaluak by Taalrumiq/Christina King

CHOICE

TRIBUTE

70 Henry Evaluardjuk by Jamesie Taligvat Evaluardjuk Fournier

CHOICE

20 Ossie Michelin by Stefan Chua

LAST LOOK

ARTISTS’ CORNER

24 Announcing Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal PROFILE

26 Isabelle Chapadeau by Autumn Fourkiller

News

76 Jessica Winters FEATURE

32 Throughline: Reneltta Arluk and the Continuum of Indigenous Voice by Christopher Morris What motivates the celebrated actor and director to keep creating. FEATURE

40 Below the Surface

A conversation about the changing face of the Inuit tattoo movement with contributions from both new and established voices in the field. LEGACY

ON THE COVER

Mark Bennett — Usittik / Undress 2021 Screen print 112 × 76 cm © THE ARTIST

52 Making a Mark by Leslie Boyd

Looking back on Pudlo Pudlat’s monumental solo exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada.

LEFT

Helen Kalvak — My Hands 1982 Printmakers Colin Okheena and Peter Palvik Lithograph 28.5 × 36.5 cm COURTESY CANADIAN ARCTIC PRODUCERS © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Portrait of Reneltta Arluk in Banff, AB, 2018 PHOTO KARI MEDIG

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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

Editorial Director Britt Gallpen

Vice-President Reneltta Arluk Yellowknife, NT

Established in 1987, the Inuit Art Foundation is a not-for-profit charitable organization that provides support to Canada’s Inuit arts communities and is the sole national body mandated to promote Inuit artists and art within Canada and internationally. 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: March 15, 2023 ISSN 0831-6708 Publication Mail Agreement #40050252 Postmaster send address changes to Inuit Art Foundation. Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to: Inuit Art Foundation 1655 Dupont Street Toronto, ON, M6P 3T1 (647) 498-7717 inuitartfoundation.org ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIAL. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION. PRINTED IN CANADA. DISTRIBUTED BY MAGAZINES CANADA. FROM TIME TO TIME WE MAKE OUR SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES AVAILABLE TO COMPANIES WHOSE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES WE FEEL MAY BE OF INTEREST TO YOU. TO BE EXCLUDED FROM THESE MAILINGS, PLEASE SEND YOUR REQUEST, ALONG WITH A COPY OF YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MAILING LABEL, TO THE ADDRESS ABOVE.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Deputy Editor Sue Carter Associate Editor Napatsi Folger Associate Editor Lisa Frenette Associate Editor Jessica MacDonald Assistant Editor Leanne Inuarak-Dall Assistant Editor Rachel Taylor Contributing Editor Bronson Jacque Copy Editor Tiffany Larter Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson

OPPOSITE

Luke Anguhadluq — Old Inuit Couple 1975 Printmaker Thomas Iksiraq Silkscreen 62.2 × 39.4 cm COURTESY EXPANDINGINUIT.COM © THE ARTIST

Secretary-Treasurer Julie Grenier Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC Linda Grussani Ottawa, ON Goretti Kakuktinniq Kangiqliniq, NU Claudette Knight Toronto, ON Michael Massie Kippens, NL Ryan Rice Toronto, ON Director in Training Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette Montreal, QC

Art Director Maegan Fidelino Colour Gas Company Printing Interprovincial Group —

FOUNDATION Strategic Initiatives Director Heather Campbell

Inuvialuit Settlement Region Community Liaison Darcie Bernhardt

Operations Manager Brittany Holliss

Nunavik Community Liaison Nancy Saunders

Executive Assistant Alyson Hardwick

Nunavut Community Liaison Jesse Tungilik

Staff Writer Blandina Attaarjuaq Makkik

Southern Canada Community Liaison Alberta Rose Williams

Annual Giving Manager Evan Maydaniuk Awards Manager Paige Connell Artist Portal Coordinator Alessandra Montefiore Digital Outreach Facilitator Danielle Douez Program Officer Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk Social Media Coordinator Maggie Hinbest

Spring 2023

FROM THE EDITOR

This approach is perhaps best captured with artist Mark Bennett’s restrained representation of Inuit tattooing practices. In Usittik / Undress (2021) kakiniit are beautifully and graphically presented in cerulean and cherry-red ink. What may appear simple at first glance is instead an investigation into the complex histories and layered meanings of these markings. The accompanying Feature, “Below the Surface,” features a wide-ranging discussion on the topic from the perspectives of two noted voices in the field— Maya Sialuk Jacobsen and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski— accompanied by works from Germaine Arnaktauyok, Françoise Oklaga (1924–1991), Ningiukulu Teevee and others. The IAQ also spoke with three early career tattooers—Aedan Corey, Malayah Enooyah Maloney and Aghalingiak (Zoe Ohokannoak)—on their experiences, a small portion of which is highlighted in this issue. To see more from this equally fascinating exchange I invite you to read the rest of the conversation online at inuitartfoundation.org/tattoo. Our featured artist project by Nicole Luke, illustrated with fluid line drawings, looks to the burgeoning field of Inuit architecture and asks, “Where are all the Inuit architects?” Luke’s “Inuit Sovereignty, Inuit Architecture,” outlines some of the challenges and inspiring possibilities that lie ahead. This issue’s Legacy reflects on Pudlo Pudlat’s (1916–1992) retrospective at the National Gallery of Canada. Author Leslie Boyd considers this an important moment for its dramatic impact on the trajectory of Inuit art history, noting it was the first major solo exhibition for an Inuk artist organized using the gallery’s own resources. In the almost 33 years since Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing (1990) opened its doors, eight other Inuit artists have had their work showcased in solo exhibitions at the gallery.1 All of these important exhibitions can be traced back to the first—Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing. Career firsts and the important pathways they open for others are likewise examined in Christopher Morris’ feature profile on actor, director, playwright and IAF board member Reneltta Arluk. A champion of Indigenous creatives of all disciplines, Arluk is herself a boundary-breaking artist whose approach is grounded in collaboration and storytelling, as well as commitment to experimental ways of working rooted in joy. In “Throughline,” Morris draws an intimate portrait of the performer on the occasion of her directorial debut on the National Arts Centre stage. Although it’s still early, 2023 is also proving to be an exciting year of firsts at the IAF. In January of this year, we were thrilled to launch two new programs— Kajungiqsaut Grants, a new national funding initiative co-developed and co-delivered with the Canada Council for the Arts and created specifically for Inuit artists working across Canada, and the Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal, the first ever Inuit artist-only digital space. Both initiatives represent significant changes in how Inuit artists can grow their careers, access financial resources and realize their dreams as artists. I have no doubt these two initiatives will also result in many more firsts, which I can’t wait to see.

The Spring issue—our first of the calendar year—feels like a particularly fitting place to explore and celebrate firsts. Building on the most elemental aspect of artmaking, this issue of the IAQ investigates the transformative potential of a point moving through space. Line takes a broad view of the concept by tracing the cultural, genealogical, storytelling and history-making potentials of drawing a line between moments, people, places and ideas.

CORRECTION

We regret the caption in the article “Where Inuit Artists Are Learning,” in our Winter 2022 issue, incorrectly identified the participants. The following is the correct caption: Participants from the Ilisarniq Series “C.V. Writing for Inuit Artists” workshop that took place on May 26, 2022. Clockwise from top right: Heather Campbell (workshop leader) with attendees Katelin, Annie and Ella COURTESY THE ARTISTS

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NOTES 1

Inuit artists featured in solo exhibitions at the National Gallery of Canada include: Karoo Ashevak (1940–1974), Kenojuak Ashevak CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013), Pitseolak Ashoona OC, CM, RCA (c. 1904– 1983), Kiakshuk (1886–1966), Jessie Oonark OC, RCA (1906– 1985), Josie Pamiutu Papialuk (1918–1996), Peter Pitseolak (1902– 1973) and Marion Tuu’luq RCA (1910–2002). Pudlat’s drawings were again on display just over a decade later in Close-Ups: Prints And Drawings By Pudlo Pudlat (2001).

Britt Gallpen Editorial Director

Front

MEET THE CONTRIBUTORS

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

“When I saw W.3-1258 in person at WAG-Qaumajuq in Winnipeg, I was moved to tears. Not only to see Inuvialuit art but also to see it displayed with care and respect in such a grand, beautiful space dedicated to Inuit fine art was astounding! It’s not only Inuit history, but Canadian history. My own mother, Igluuq, was ‘W.3-1241.’”

TAALRUMIQ/CHRISTINA KING CHOICE: BILL NASOGALUAK PAGE 18

JAMESIE TALIGVAT EVALUARDJUK FOURNIER TRIBUTE: HENRY EVALUARDJUK PAGE 70

I enjoyed getting to know my family more as I explored the life of my late grandfather, Henry Evaluardjuk. It warmed my heart to explore the communities, culture and people he inspired across the North.”

LESLIE BOYD MAKING A MARK PAGE 52

“This chance to look back on Pudlo Pudlat’s life and career reminded me of the small building next to my apartment above the lithography studio in Kinngait. It had Pudlat’s name on a plaque above the door. For several years during the late 1970s Pudlat used the building as his exclusive studio space—the only artist to be provided with a private space. According to my colleague Wallie Brannen, Pudlat liked to work in solitude and silence. ‘He really loved not staying at home,’ Brannen recalled. ‘He has a strong personal relationship as an artist to where his studio is based.’”

This issue’s contributor illustrations are by Kim Henderson Kim Henderson is an emerging digital artist from Yellowknife, NT, now living on Coast Salish Territory in British Columbia, whose work is recognizable for a dreamy colour palette inspired by the Western Arctic. Henderson’s digital illustrations weave together cultural reclamation and self-expression through technology and education; a foil to her role as Director of the Indigenous Innovation Institute, an initiative of the First Nations Technology Council in Vancouver, BC.

Visit her IAQ profile at inuitartfoundation.org/kim-henderson Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

COVER SPOTLIGHT

I became super fascinated with inuksuit while writing this piece. On Baﬃn Island there are over 100 inuksuit still standing, which speaks to the power of their construction and their communal effort.”

Mark Bennett

AUTUMN FOURKILLER PROFILE: ISABELLE CHAPADEAU PAGE 26

COVER SPOTLIGHT

CHRISTOPHER MORRIS THROUGHLINE: RENELTTA ARLUK AND THE CONTINUUM OF INDIGENOUS VOICE PAGE 32

“Writing this article gave me the chance to have a real heart-to-heart with Reneltta, something we hadn’t been able to do for a while. It also gave me the chance to have really meaningful conversations with Greg Staats and Rosemary Thompson, two other extraordinary people in their own right. All of us sharing a deep appreciation and respect for Reneltta and what she stands for. I’m a better person for these conversations.”

The graphic lines derived from kakiniit, or Inuit tattoos, Mark Bennett has printed across the page of Usittik / Undress (2021) boldly mark the wide variation of traditional patterns, juxtaposing their long history through a modern colour palette. Bennett, a graphic designer, art director and image maker based in Toronto, ON, is currently studying architecture at the University of Toronto. His work is inspired by both his culture and the distinctive aesthetic of Newfoundland and Labrador—aspects of his identity, which he uses to centre his design philosophy. Usittik / Undress began as part of a series of screen prints that deconstruct kakiniit motifs. “The main body of my design practice has lately turned toward process and non-aesthetic inputs (people, non-academic as much as academic knowledge), and how these impact the design process,” Bennett says. “This series has been on hold for a while as I have gone further into the conceptual process of design, but in revisiting it I can continue building out this more gestural, gut-reaction exploration of marking, motifs and kakiniit in its simply beautiful aesthetic.” The “Y” shapes, zigzags and dashes that march across this page neatly underscore the connections between a tattooing tradition that is hundreds of years old and the work of artists like Bennett who are practising today. ABOVE

Mark Bennett — Usittik / Undress 2021 Screen print 112 × 76 cm

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

Front

THANK YOU

ARTIST SPOTLIGHT

Checking in with Tarralik Duffy Inuit artists create breathtaking works every single day and the Inuit Art Foundation (IAF) supports these artists as they forge their own paths. Donors create opportunities for artists. They provide platforms to showcase artists’ work, connect them with new audiences and walk alongside artists as they reach new heights. These opportunities support artists like Tarralik Duffy, a multidisciplinary artist and writer. She has had her work published in the IAQ many times, including on the cover of the Exchange issue in 2018. In 2021 Duffy won the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award (KAMA), named in honour of the life and work of the late Kenojuak Ashevak CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013) and her unparalleled contributions to the cultural life and arts of Inuit Nunangat and beyond. Originally from Salliq, NU, and currently living in Saskatoon, SK, Duffy’s work spans disciplines, from jewellery to drawing and beyond. Her art is inspired by her lived experiences in the North and as an urban Inuk artist, which she draws upon to incorporate humour and pop sensibility into her work. In this short interview, she shares how winning KAMA has transformed her career.

I am incredibly grateful for the support donors give to Inuit art. It gives us a bit of room, a little bit of space to take a breath and make art for art’s sake.” TARRALIK DUFFY

COURTESY THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

THANK YOU

Donors make all the difference 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 December 1, 2021 to December 31, 2022.

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 Andrea Arnold Stephen Baker Vincent and Barbara Barresi Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Bill Bradley Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Tobi Bruce Catherine Campbell Sue Carter Kay Cookie Cartwright Dr. Anne Croy Catherine Dean Rosemary Delli Zuani Celia Denov Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Kelly Dickinson Hal Dietz Patricia and Donald Dodds Tracey Doherty, in memory of William Robert Mesher Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais

Tunisiniq Nunarjjuaq Piuniqsauqumut Circle

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M. A. Konantz Katarina Kupca Martina Landry Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk, in loving memory of Cathy Maydaniuk and David Stewart Roxanne McCaig Kathleen and Brian Metcalfe Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Stephen Morris, in memory of Aqjangayuk Shaa Paul Newman Rachel O’Neill Dawn Owen Clifford Papke 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 Abdul Rahim Yeung Eva Riis-Culver Margerit Roger Greg Rogers, in honour of

Mathieu Doucette Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg Engelstad Family F. Enright, to help provide creative opportunities, in particular, for Inuit artists, today Lynn Feasey Kashtin Fitzsimons Maxime Fortin Alison Freebairn Lisa Frenette Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Kik and Si Gilman Anik Glaude Deborah D. Gordon Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Linda Grussani Barbara Hale Andrea Hamilton Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Sara Hassan, in memory of Sharif Maher Hassan Shawn Hassell Dianne Hayman Bryan Hellwig Brittany Holliss Robert Hurst Aphantasia Indigo Amy Jenkins Rozanne Junker

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.

Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Kassie Ruth Bruno Savoie Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Anwesha Sen Paul J. Skahan Yu Song Michael and Melanie Southern Joyce and Fred Sparling Charmaine Spencer David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule and Robin Mercer-Sproule Suncor Energy Jacek Szulc Jay and Deborah Thomson Emilie Tremblay Gail Vanstone Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Elka Weinstein Peggy Weller, in honoring my husband who is a poet and artist, Dr. Gary Pacermick Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Amanda Whitney Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith and seven anonymous donors

Judith DesBrisay Eleanor R. Erikson Bryan Hellwig Warren Howard Kathleen Lippa Richard Sourkes Scott B. White Front

THANK YOU

INUIT ART FOUNDATION: How has Kenojuak Ashevak’s work influenced your artistic practice? TARRALIK DUFFY: Kenojuak’s work has always spoken to me. I remember an artist friend of mine from home telling me about the first time he saw The Enchanted Owl (1960) and he told me “some pieces of art are alive,” and I truly believe that Kenojuak’s works have a palpable lifeforce to them. Her work is wholly enchanted; it has an ancient magic that pulls you in. Her lines are so free flowing but also uniform, they are portals to the old world, she connects me to another realm. When I was first starting out I would sit in my room and draw, taking inspiration from different Inuit art books. My favourite was also Kenojuak’s. I would create pieces inspired by her art—I wasn’t trying to reproduce her work exactly, but creating my own versions of The Enchanted Owl and different birds in order to learn from her. Her work definitely influenced me to go in my own direction, she taught me how to draw freely from a place of emotion, letting the ideas take you where they want. RIGHT

Tarralik Duffy — Corn Beef Hash 2022 Digital illustration ALL © THE ARTIST

Monthly supporter Legacy supporter Multi-year pledge supporter Endowment supporter Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award supporter Inuit Art Quarterly supporter IAQ Profiles supporter Artist Services supporter

$5,000–$9,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Eleanor R. Erikson Hesty Leibtag Joram Piatigorsky Paul Pizzolante and one anonymous donor

IAF Tunisijut Circle 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.

$2,500–$4,999 Gabrielle Campbell Patricia and Donald Dodds Charles Kingsley David and Liz Macdonald Valerie and Hunter Thompson The Tivi Family

$100,000+ RBC Foundation $25,000–$49,999 Judith DesBrisay Carolyn Hsu-Balcer and Rene Balcer Power Corporation of Canada Virginia Watt Perpetual Trust

$1,000–$2,499 Kristiina and Timmun Alariaq, Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Ameriprise Financial Arctic Co-operatives Limited Judy Banning Vincent and Barbara Barresi Jordy Bell and Stephen Jacoby The Honourable Patricia Bovey Elise Brais Ben Caesar

$10,000–$24,999 The Chodos Family Foundation Goring Family Foundation Erik Haites Willmott Bruce Hunter Foundation The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation

Inuit Art Quarterly

Clench House Foundation Colourgenics Fine Art Imaging David Deisley Emily Deming Paul Desmarais III and Mary Dailey Desmarais Neil Devitt Hal Dietz Marian Dodds, in honour of Dedie Dodds Arthur Drache CM, KC and Judy Young Drache Jon and Val Eliassen Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. Robert and Karlen Fellows Alain Fournier Peter Gillespie, in memory of Lyn Solomon-Gillespie, on behalf of the Solomon and Gillespie Fund Janice Gonsalves Susan Hawkins Carol Heppenstall Jackman Foundation Rawlson King Charles Kingsley Elske and Jim Kofman Katarina Kupca

Spring 2023

THANK YOU

Simon Lappi Barbara Legowski Ann and Michael Lesk Kathleen Lippa, in memory of Tony Stapells Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation Christie MacInnes Susan Marrier John McCaig Patricia McKeown Shannon Norberg and Jarvis Hall Susan Ollila Martin Pâquet Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price Shirley Richardson Sanford Riley David Runkle Kassie Ruth Paula Santrach Frances Scheidel Michael and Melanie Southern David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule and Robin Mercer-Sproule Marie-Josée Therrien Barbara Turner Gail Vanstone Jonathan and Katya Weisz Jaan Whitehead Cathy and David Wilkes Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith Norman Zepp and Judith Varga and three anonymous donors [1 ]

Illannarijaujut Tunngavinngmit $500–$999 James and Marjorie Abel, in honour of Xanthipi Abel and Richard E. Winslow III Dr. Jim Bader and Merri Van Dyke Devony Baugh Marc Bendick Jr. and Mary Lou Egan Jean Blane Gary Boratto

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Amalia Steinberg, in honour of Jeri Ah-Be-Hill Tom Suber and Cary Griffin Colleen Suche Suncor Energy Jay and Deborah Thomson Carol Thrun Peg and Peter Van Brunt Nicholas Wattson Peggy Weller, in honoring my husband who is a poet and artist, Dr. Gary Pacermick Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Peter L. Wilson Gail Wylie and Dave Wright Mark and Margie Zivin Bea Zizlavsky and five anonymous donors [2 , 3 , 1 ]

Tobi Bruce Stewart and Lissy Bryan Margaret Bursaw, in memory of John Maounis Lili Chester Clive and Mary Clark Dr. Yvonne C. Condell Philip Davis Glenn Dobby and Catherine McInnes My Art Syndicate, Janette Doering, ISA AM Nathalie Ducamp Maxime Fortin Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti Judith Gavin Linda Grussani Barbara Hale Dianne Hayman Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Bryan Hellwig Debby and Brian Hirsch Mark Hirschman Frederick W. Hooper Roger and Margaret Horton Dale Horwitz Chuck Hudson Heather Igloliorte and Matthew Brulotte Carola Kaegi Smaro Kamboureli Monty Kehl and Craig Wilbanks Sonya Kelliher-Combs Lori Labatt Val K. Lem Keith Martin and Jackie Hatherly-Martin Kathryn Minard Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Nancy Moore Allan Newell Nadine Nickner and Harald Finkler Suzanne O’Hara Louisa O’Reilly Dawn Owen Don Pether Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Wendy Rittenhouse Bruce Roberts Kerstin Roger, in the name of Margerit Roger Susan Rowley Celine Saucier

$250–$499 Amy Adams Carole Ahmad and family Lea Algar-Moscoe Eleanor Allgood Catherine Badke Stephen Baker Susan Baum and Bob Ludwig Jurg and Christel Bieri Dr. Catherine Birt Stephen Bulger and Catherine Lash Catherine Campbell Rebecca Carbin Sue Carter Susan Charlesworth Raymond and Charlene Currie Fred and Mary Cutler Celia Denov Sara Diamond Nadine Di Monte and Michael Boland John Domsy Kate Doorly Sophie Dorais Melanie Egan Engelstad Family Keith R. Evans KC Andy Fallas Robin Field Lisa Frenette Susan and David Gallpen Dr. and Mrs. Peter Gardner Peter Gold and Athalie Joy Eddie Goldstein Jesse Goodman and Nicole Lurie Karen and George Gorsline

Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Andrea Hamilton Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Sara Hassan, in memory of Sharif Maher Hassan Shawn Hassell Ingo Hessel Joanne Hommik Mame Jackson Jeannette Jackson-Thompson, in memory of Richard C. Thompson Patricia James, in honour of Pat Feheley Sharon Jorgens Melinda Josie John Kean, in honour of Jenn Kean Anne Kearns Nancy Keppelman and Michael Smerza Jo-Ann Kolmes Dr. Pirkko Koppinen Mary Kostman Carolyn Lawson Gordon Leggett Ellen Lehman and Charles Kennel Joe and Sandra Lintz Kenneth R. Lister Dr. Marie A. Loyer Dr. Neil and Elaine Margolis Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk, in loving memory of Cathy Maydaniuk and David Stewart Jim and Mary Alice Mayerle Roxanne McCaig G. Lester and Phyllis McKinnon Robert Michaud Charles Moss and Dee Fenner Scott Mullin Sophia and let Muylwyk Michael and Brenda Noone Donna and Hal Olsen Alex Pappas and Ann Maners Maria Parsons Aarohi Patel Kara Pearce André Picard Ed and Johannes Pien

Front

THANK YOU

IAF: How did you feel when you won KAMA? TD: I was in a little bit of shock when I was announced as the winner, but also there was this big feeling of joy and relief because I had resigned myself to not winning; I didn’t want to hope for anything. I was happy to be considered and in the company of such amazing artists. At the same time it was weird because everything was announced over Zoom. It was odd experiencing probably one of the best moments in my art career from my bedroom. It was so fun with all the people who joined in the celebrations and the performances and then I closed out the screen and I was sitting alone in my room again. Despite that reminder of the world still being in the throes of a pandemic, it really was the most wonderful experience. People who are close to me know that I often write myself off or that I start to think that maybe my ideas are a bit ridiculous. Being chosen as the winner of KAMA by my peers means a lot to me. I get so easily discouraged, but to have them vote for me, feeling loved by them and having them believe in my work is so validating.

Katherine Quatermass, in honour of Love and Loss: Tales from Imagined Lands Crowdfunder Leslie Reid Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Jan Robinson Margerit Roger Greg Rogers, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Melina Rymberg, Alexander Davis and Asher Rymberg-Davis Dr. Jinder Sall Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Mark Shiner Charmaine Spencer Harriet Stairs George Szabo Jacek Szulc Dr. Charles and Carol Tator Kitty Thorne, in loving memory of the Davidee artists and to help support Inuit artists Emilie Tremblay Helen Tremblay Anne Vagi, let us grow through art Terry Vatrt Louise and James Vesper Scott B. White Garland Austin Withers

Inuit Art Quarterly

Catherine C. Cole Sarah Corless, in honour of Dr. Shelly Birnie-Lefcovitch Sylvie Cornez Charles and Arline Crockford Michael de Pencier Catherine Dean Rosemary Delli Zuani Wilfrid Denis Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Kelly Dickinson Margaret Dimond Tracey Doherty, in memory of William Robert Mesher Mathieu Doucette Leslie E. Eisenberg Pat English F. Enright, to help provide creative opportunities, in particular, for Inuit artists, today Lynn Feasey Shirley Finfrock Gustel Fischer Kashtin Fitzsimons Chun Fong Melanie Foubert Alison Freebairn Ed Friedman Paula Frisch JoAnne and Richard Fuerst Glenn Gear Anik Glaude Carole Gobeil Claire S. Gold Deborah D. Gordon

Dallas Young and two anonymous donors $100–$249 Adgar Canada Jane and Wallace Altes Mary Anglim Diana Antoon Andrea Arnold Caroline Arpin Anne-Claude Bacon Birgit Bade and David Gooddie Donald Badke, in memory of Anne Badke H. Mary Balint Heather M. Beecroft Brian and Carol Belchamber Phyllis Berck and Bruce Kidd Dr. Diane R. Biehl Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Annette M. Boucher Margaret Brill-Edwards Jennifer Brown Ruth Brown John Butcher Rachel Buxton, in honour of Patty and Tom Reid Dorothy Caldwell and William Woods Mary F. Campbell John Carr David S. Cherepacha Cobalt Art Gallery Carol A. Cole

Catherine Grant, in honour of Tom McNulty Patricia Grattan Jane Green Kristine Greenaway Jill Greenberg Jill Grief Patt Hall John Hanjian and Carmen Nowak Telka Harms Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Clive Harvey Janet Heagle Laurie Herd Rick Hiebert, in honour of Renzo Fernandez’s 40th Birthday Charles Hilton Brittany Holliss Albert and Femmeke Holthuis David Homan Jane Horner Warren Howard David Humphrey Jacqueline Hynes, PhD Linda and James Igloliorte Faye Jacobs Drs. Laurence and Katherine Jacobs Erika Janik Amy Jenkins The Josie Family Rozanne Junker

Spring 2023

THANK YOU

IAF: How has winning KAMA affected your career? TD: At first it was strange because I was so used to the hustle of creating art, although I would still follow the inspirations that presented themselves to me, it was also how I paid the bills. It’s how I survive. It’s a different mindset when you approach art in a way that’s more practical. Winning the award gave me a little bit of space to breathe; I was able to step back and think about what I really wanted to create. Not creating because I had to but because I wanted to. It was a bit disorienting at first. I wasn’t used to having the space to decide exactly what I wanted to do. I was able to accept the projects that were the most interesting to me and suited my style and pour all my energy into the ideas I really wanted to. In 2021, the same year I received KAMA, I had an opportunity to participate in an artist residency at the Art Gallery of Guelph. The gallery would go on to feature my show called ᐃᓅᓯᕋ | Inuusira, which means “My Life,” in October 2021. This show put my works alongside that of a giant in Inuit art—Pitseolak Ashoona, OC, RCA (1904–1983). Looking forward to later this year, I have a solo show opening at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq. This opportunity is part of winning KAMA and I am looking forward to sharing the things I have created.

Kevin and Holly Kaminska, in memory of Claus Borchardt John and Johanna Kassenaar Jennipher and Jamie Kean, on behalf of Elizabeth O’Grady Bert Kerstetter Karen Kimmett Bryan Klein Claudette Knight M. A. Konantz Lawrence and Joyce Lacroix Kathryn Lagrandeur Martina Landry Dr. Virginia Lavin Huguette Le Gall Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Wynne and William Lee Barbara Legowski and Lewis Auerbach Jacob Lewis Jamie Lewis Jacqueline Littlewood Denis Longchamps Simone Ludlow, on behalf of Max and Karl Crain Peter Lyman P. Campbell Mackie Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Peter Malkin Kathy Mallett, in memory of parents John and Alice Jure Manfreda The Honourable Paul Mayer Dr. Michelle McGeough

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Elizabeth McKeown Kathleen and Brian Metcalfe Joanna Miazga Yves Morneau and Lisa Morneau-Rousson Cathy Moser David Muir Ted Muir Suzanne F. Nash Gary Nelson Paul Newman Elizabeth O’Grady, in honour of Jennipher Kean Rachel O’Neill Patrick Odier Marina Oeler Kirsten Olson, in honour of Dr. Robert Olson Penny Pattinson Kate Permut Mimi Philippe Richard and Annette Pivnick Steve Potocny and Anne Milochik David Pride David and Robin Procida Robert Procida Mickey Ranalli Sharlene Rankin Bayard D. Rea Ron and Sigrid Rhodes Anita Romaniuk Barry Rosenberg Charlie Rubin Margaret Rundall Michael Ryan Lynne B. Sagalyn J. Salkowitz, DMD

OPPOSITE

RUUSI 2021 Digital illustration

Wally and Lenore Sapach Bruno Savoie Joanne Schwartz Jeffrey Seidman Elika Shapiro Scenery Slater Jean-Claude Sommier Yu Song Marjorie Sorrell Richard Sourkes Joyce and Fred Sparling Arlene Stecenko Clarence Stonefish Karen Thorne-Stone Diana Trafford Laurie Tretina Jon L. Vickery Patrizia Villani Brenda and Robert Watson John Weber, in memory of Mary MacDonald Gord and Laurie Webster Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Elka Weinstein Marianne Wightman, in memory of Colly Scullion and 18 anonymous donors [4 , 7 , 1 ]

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THANK YOU

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.

Up to $99 Ariell Ahearn-Ligham Annie Akpaliapik Susan Anthony Sue Asquith Oliver Aygun Brit Bachmann Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Michael Boland Monica Bradford-Lea Bill Bradley David Burns Kevin Burns Ginger Carlson Kay Cookie Cartwright Dennia Crowley Dr. Anne Croy Ed Dahl David Dall Joan Davis Anna De Aguayo Cathy Degryse Paulette Dennis Hilary Dickson Leanne DiMonte Kristin Dowell Catherine Ego Kathryn Fournier Joana Fraga, on behalf of Joanacchi Caitlin Gauthier Kik and Si Gilman Susan C. Griswold

Inuit Art Quarterly

Delan Hamasoor Alissa Hamilton Kathryn Hanna Mary Hanson Alyson Hardwick, in honour of Delphine Shiwak Andrew Hardwick Andrew Hubbertz Robert Hurst Glenys Huws Aphantasia Indigo Phillip Innes Marya Jensen Brian Judd Simon Kahn Anne Louise Kelly Alia Khan Karine Lacasse Marc Lafontaine Marilyn and Daryl Logan Marion Lord Laura MacDonald Suzie MacMillian, in honour of mom and dad Myra Macoomb Catherine Madsen Wendy and Michael Main Geraldine and Peter Marshall David and Maida Maxham Francis-Robert McCall Mary McLaren Joanna P. McMann Colette Meehan

Colin Mein Mary Jane Mikkelsen Marie Moet Oliver Moorhouse Stephen Morris, in memory of Aqjangayuk Shaa Lou Nelson Susan Newlove Keitrah Oakley Erin Palmer, in memory of Joan “Colly” Scullion Clifford Papke Morna Paterson Krystal Pidborochynski Shirley and John Powell Maximilien Raab Abdul Rahim Yeung Danielle Rand Marilyn Robinson Henrietta Roi Robert Rosenbaum Richard and Yvonne Rothenberg Carol-Ann Ryan Janet Savard Kathryn Scott Patricia Scott Anwesha Sen Judith Ann Sever Paul Shackel and Barbara Little Sharon Lee Shafii Bo Simango Paul J. Skahan Cindy Skrukwa

Jan Smith Gregory Sonek Superstar X Magazine Merren Jane Tardivelle Sarah Taylor Bertha Thompson Feliz Tupe Darlene Tymn Ukpik Inuit Art, on behalf of Alan Pinder Elizabeth Vadas Cindy Van Eindhoven Safina Vesuna Maarten Vonhof Nancy Walkling, in memory of Frank Walkling Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas James and Karen Walton Garnet Ward Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Jennifer White Mark and Margaret Whitley Amanda Whitney Michael Wiles Jennie Williams William Wood Fred Wurlitzer, MD and 17 anonymous donors [1 , 5 , 2 ]

Spring 2023

This year, the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award is expanding to celebrate 10 contemporary artists whose works are expanding the boundaries of Inuit art. Thank you so much to everyone who has helped to create and grow the award since its creation in 2014. $25,000+ Judith DesBrisay Willmott Bruce Hunter Foundation John and Joyce Price $10,000–$24,999 Bruce Bailey, in honour of Pat Feheley Erik Haites $2,500–$4,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron David and Liz Macdonald $1,000–$2,499 Kristiina Alariaq, Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Blair Assaly Shary Boyle Elise Brais Susan M. Carter Andrew Chodos Cosentino Marian Dodds, in honour of Dedie Dodds DUCA, in honour of Frits Albert Begemann’s legacy, in tribute to his passion for Inuit art Patricia Feheley Peter Gillespie, in memory of Lyn Solomon-Gillespie, on behalf of The Solomon and Gillespie Fund Goring Family Foundation MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation Hugh Hall Inuit Art Society Jackman Foundation Monty Kehl and Craig Wilbanks Rawlson O’Neil King Charles Kingsley The William and Shirley Lakey Family Fund at Edmonton Community Foundation Kathleen Lippa Marcia Miller Susan Ollila and one anonymous donor $500–$999 Claus and Anne Borchardt Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Alex Krawczyk Katarina Kupca Lori Labatt Val K. Lem

Carol Ann Ellett Andy Fallas Kashtin Fitzsimons Deborah D. Gordon Le Grand Élan Mark Gustafson Patt Hall Clive Harvey Ian Harvey Tatiana Harvey Dianne Hayman K. E Heller-McRoberts Rick Hiebert Frederick Hooper Jane Horner Dale Horwitz Warren Howard Andrew Hubbertz Noorlizan Ibrahim Lynn Jackson, in honour of Paula Jackson Jeanette Jackson-Thompson Joyce Keltie Cathy Kirkpatrick A. B. Kliefoth, MD, in honour of the hardworking staff of the IAF Jacob Lewis Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia Peter Lyman Daniel Macdonald, in honour of David and Liz Macdonald Paul Machnik Catherine Madsen, in honour of Thomas and Winifred Madsen Blandina Makkik and Greg Rogers The Honourable Justice Paul Mayer Tess and Duncan McLean, in memory of Terry Ryan Heather McNab Robert Michaud Louisa O’Reilly Father Colin Peterson Mickey Ranalli Jim and Shelley Renner Marcia Rioux Louise Rolingher Susan Rowley Kassie Ruth Judith Rycus J. Salkowitz, DMD Dr. Jinder Sall Wally Sapach Iris Schweiger Mark Shiner Richard Sourkes Sara Stasiuk Colleen Suche Roslyn Tunis

Christie MacInnes, in honour of Erik Haites Kathryn C. Minard David Sproule, in honour of Jean Katherine Sproule and three anonymous donors $250–$499 Carole Ahmad and family Beatriz Alvarez Marc Bendick Jr. and Mary Lou Egan Wayne Clark John Domsy Lyyli Elliott Leah Erickson, in honour of all Inuit artists Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Friends of Carol Hordatt Gentles, in honour of Christa Hordatt Melinda Josie Lou Jungheim and Thalia Nicas, in honour of Eliot and Alisa Waldman Dr. P. Koppinen Linda Lewis Lois Loewen Patricia McKeown Suzanne O’Hara Bonnie E. Park Leslie Reid Barbara F. Schweger Elizabeth Steinbrueck Ann Tompkins Terry Vatrt Scott B. White and one anonymous donor $100–$249 Amy Adams Eleanor Allgood Sarah Ashton, in honour of Sharon Allen Heather Beecroft Katharine Bocking Stephen and Hazel Borys Annette M. Boucher Kaaren and Julian Brown Shirley Brown, in honour of Christa Ouimet David Burns David S. Cherepacha Shelley Chochinov Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Wilfrid Denis Ginette Dumouchel, in honour of Tommy Niviaxie

Dr. Anne Vagi Elka Weinstein Karen Westrell Mark and Margie Zivin and four anonymous donors Up to $99 Mary Anglim Susan Anthony Judy Archer, in memory of Sarah Prince Archer Elizabeth P. Ball, in honour of Thomas G. Fowler Eunice Bélidor Dianne Bohonis, in honour of Peter Bohonis Janet Chamberlain Barbara Dalziel J. De Vincenzo Sharon Dembo Maegan Didden François Dumaine Shelby Gahagan John Geoghegan Dara Gordon, in honour of Morgan and Richard Zigler whose lives are forever bound together by their love for and connection to the arts, education and the Arctic Catherine Grant Barbara Hale Delan Hamasoor Anna Holmes Anne-Remy Jones Mary Lawrence Breinig Gretchen Lawrie Daryl Logan Graham Mastersmith Marla Mckenna Patrick McLean David Muir Suzanne F. Nash Lou Nelson Shadreck Nyathi Oswald Family Carole Ouimet, in honour of Christa Ouimet Kate Permut The Pinero Family, in loving memory of Christa Emma Hordatt Robin and David Procida Janet Savard Patricia Scott Ann Sprayregen Patrizia In Villani Cocchi William Webster Amanda Whitney Jennie Williams and three anonymous donors

We would also like to extend special thanks to RBC Emerging Artists for their exceptional support this year. Line

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5 WORKS

Power Signals IAF staff reveal the beauty in works that observe modern infrastructures

Arnaqu Ashevak

Town Ravens (2003)

Itee Pootoogook

Valley (2011) Ringing the town in a tangy orange glow, the power lines of Itee Pootoogook’s (1951–2014) Valley perch on the tops of streetlights, a visual shorthand for the connection between light and electricity. Against the inky blue of the surrounding ice and snowy hills, the houses’ occupied glow suggests a warmth, a vivacity rarely accorded to Arctic communities, which are too often depicted as remote wildernesses by non-residents.

Pootoogook was known for his depictions of modern northern life, frequently using community members’ photographs as source material for his drawings. Although none of these people are portrayed here, Pootoogook implies their presence in the multicoloured windows that light up the night, visible even in the houses at the far end of town. JESSICA MACDONALD

Associate Editor ABOVE

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Itee Pootoogook — Valley 2011 Coloured pencil and graphite 49.5 × 64.8 cm

Arnaqu Ashevak — Town Ravens 2003 Stonecut 71.1 × 55.9 cm

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY © THE ARTIST

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Daniel Inukpuk — Landscape of Inoucdjouac 1974 Printmaker Mary Nalukturuk Stonecut 53.9 × 74.3 cm

Inuit Art Quarterly

In a world of instant connection, nature’s voice is reduced to a simple whisper. In the stonecut Town Ravens by Arnaqu Ashevak (1956–2009), the natural world’s steady presence is praised in the dotting of plucky ravens scattered atop telephone poles. Colours shift from crimson to deep indigo and black, giving the sense of a sunrise just peeking over the horizon. The drooping wires jump from one pole to the next, weaving a web of communication that is vital to modernization, and yet so fragile. Ravens, on the other hand, carry unbroken and unwavering messages across long distances through their shrieking caws. Their voices echoed long before these poles existed and will continue to do so long after they have fallen. No matter what we create, nature is still here above all else. LISA FRENETTE

Associate Editor

COURTESY LA FÉDÉRATION DES COOPÉRATIVES DU NOUVEAU-QUÉBEC © THE ARTIST

Spring 2023

5 WORKS

Daniel Inukpuk

Landscape of Inoucdjouac (1974)

Landscape of Inoucdjouac by Daniel Inukpuk (1942–2015) stands out from other prints in the 1975 Arctic Quebec catalogue, which focused primarily on people, animals and plants. In this map-like scene, the power lines—at that time a recent construction—

march across the community, stepping over an otherwise humbling stretch of the Inukjuak River before turning back on themselves to tower over the town. An irregular mass of black land and sky, criss-crossed by bright scratches of river and horizon, is populated chaotically: here is a bird’s-eye view of a dog, here, a sidelong glimpse of a man; this building faces the river while that one points to the sky. One of these structures could be the Inukjuak print shop where Inukpuk learned printmaking from Thomassie and Lucassie Echalook, and which closed not long after Landscape of Inoucdjouac was made. This print gives the impression of a place being witnessed by many at once, each view true in itself; or perhaps a place that is changing before your eyes. RACHEL TAYLOR

Assistant Editor

Pudloo Samayualie

Composition (Blue House) (2018)

Brian Adams

Quinhagak #4 (2015) “Strike while the iron’s hot” is an idiom that originated from blacksmiths, which means to make use of favourable conditions. In many northern communities during the months of 24-hour daylight, you often stay up all night completing tasks that are otherwise hard to accomplish during the dark months. The photograph Quinhagak #4 by Brian Adams shows a person driving a four-wheeler, their silhouette in hard contrast against the golden grasses lining the dusty road they travel. I imagine the lone rider, blanketed by the blinding sky, heading out to the country to “get while the gettin’ is good,” and coming home with wild country foods. This photograph reminds me of a trip to the North a few years back. I was awoken at 3 AM by the sound of a Honda cruising outside in the midnight sun. I thought to myself, “They’re probably going fishing.” KYLE NATKUSIAK ALEEKUK

Program Officer

As a budding photographer in my teen years, I always aimed high or tried to get a good shot without any power lines. They irked me when they disrupted my rule of thirds or tranquil naturescapes. Pudloo Samayualie uses these lines to her advantage in this modern vision of a Kinngait building. On the treeless tundra it is often the power lines that are the tallest markers in town. Line

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By pairing the power lines with the deep cerulean of this structure, its intersecting vertical lines of corrugated siding and the snow-addled wire fence, Samayualie creates delicate angles and high contrast to appeal to our senses in this intricate drawing.

Pudloo Samayualie — Composition (Blue House) 2018 Graphite, coloured pencil and ink 38 × 59 cm

Brian Adams — Quinhagak #4 2015 Medium format film photograph 35.6 × 35.6 cm

NAPATSI FOLGER

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Associate Editor 17

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CHOICE

Bill Nasogaluak W.3-1258

by Taalrumiq/Christina King

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

CHOICE

As Nasogaluak’s piece clearly shows, we were but numbers to the government. Not even faces. Not even human. My own mother, Igluuq, was “W.3-1241.”

Content note: This article contains a word used historically to refer to Inuit that may be considered derogatory today. Bill Nasogaluak’s W.3-1258 (2020) touched my heart before I ever saw it in person. When the prominent Inuvialuk artist shared a photo of this autobiographical artwork online, I understood the significance and the story conveyed in his sculpture. The artist and my mom are from the same generation, they grew up together in Tuktuuyaqtuuq (Tuktoyaktuk), Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, and their mothers were good friends. This piece is powerful; a larger-than-life bust carved in green and white marbled serpentinite, complete with a parka hood and fur ruff. Rather than facial features, Nasogaluak carved his government Inuit disc number, W.3-1258, onto the centre of an otherwise smooth, blank face. It beautifully symbolizes a sad part of Canada’s history and treatment of Inuit. And it’s recent. Not so long ago. Eskimo Identification Tags, part of a federal policy which began in the 1930s, were introduced in 1941. The tags were discontinued in the early 1970s as the new “Project Surname” initiative assigned family names for Inuit living in the North. Because government officials couldn’t understand or pronounce traditional names, Inuit in Canada were assigned a set of letters and numbers stamped on a loonie-sized leather disc to wear around their necks or to be sewn into clothing. “W” stands for the Western Arctic, and “E” for the Eastern Arctic. The letters were followed by a district number and then a set of numbers assigned to each individual in order of registration. In addition to the erasure of ancestral naming systems and the introduction of identification tags (also known as dog tags), English and biblical names were assigned for identification purposes in order to receive any sort of government services. As Nasogaluak’s piece clearly shows, we were but numbers to the government. Not even faces. Not even human. My own mother, Igluuq, was “W.3-1241.” When I first saw Nasogaluak’s W.3-1258 in person as part of INUA, the inaugural exhibition at Qaumajuq, the

new Inuit art centre at the Winnipeg Art Gallery in Manitoba, I was moved to tears. Not only to see Inuvialuit art, but also to see it displayed with care and respect in such a grand, beautiful space dedicated to Inuit fine art was astounding! For Inuit, it’s been a struggle to be treated with basic decency and respect as human beings, so to see our artwork presented in this manner is something I never imagined in my lifetime. Inuit art, often created for survival, was defined for us, and oftentimes the artists never received credit or fair compensation. To see this piece recognized and appreciated in a way that amplifies our voices is healing. It’s a step toward reconciliation in an important time. After all it’s not only Inuit history, but Canadian history. It’s important that Inuit voices continue to be amplified and our stories, history and experiences shared from our perspectives. For most of history we were reported on and studied—many MAs and PhDs were earned from outsiders researching and becoming experts on us—yet never fully sharing our truth or reality of what it means to be an Inuk in Canada. Everything was determined for us. Today we are in a position to re-define our identities, our names, our culture, our art and what that means. Art is a powerful way to educate. A piece as visually stunning as W.3-1258 encourages conversation and facilitates understanding through its many layers of meaning. Quyanainni Bill for sharing your experience through this part of our history. — Taalrumiq/Christina King is an Inuvialuk and Gwich’in artist, fashion designer, content creator and cultural educator who resides on unceded Tsimshian territory in Northern British Columbia. Growing up in Tuktuuyaqtuuq, she earned her BSc in Human Ecology and BEd degrees at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, AB. She was one of ten fashion designers in the Indigenous Haute Couture Fashion Residency program at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity in 2022, and was part of the inaugural 2021 National Screen Institute of Canada’s Tiktok Accelerator for Indigenous Creators.

Bill Nasogaluak — W.3-1258 2020 Green serpentinite 49 × 31 × 24 cm COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO DAVID LIPNOWSKI © THE ARTIST

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CHOICE

Ossie Michelin Evan’s Drum

by Stefan Chua

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

CHOICE

The frosty landscape captured in the film only serves to emphasize Evan’s warmth, which is nourished by Amy, with whom he shares a palpable, deep-seated connection. Women play an integral role in Evan’s journey; it is Amy who introduces drum dancing to Evan, and it is Jennie Williams, an Inuk drum maker, photographer and filmmaker, who meets with them to help Evan construct his own drum. Michelin directly showcases the role of women in raising future generations. There is a passing on of culture, too, between Jennie and Amy, as these two women share their own experiences drum dancing. Michelin is careful to employ a documentarian’s eye: scattered throughout are scenes of contemporary home life, grounding the film in the present day. In the opening sequences Evan runs around at home with a Nerf gun and eats straight from a can of Maple Leaf brand Vienna sausage. When learning to sew for his drum, Evan comments on his speed by remarking, “I’m like Sonic,” referring to popular video-game speedster Sonic the Hedgehog. In later scenes Evan wears a medical mask outdoors, a clear timestamp for a life amid COVID-19. Yet Evan and his drumming remains. What endears me most to Evan is how familiar he seems; I remember loving Sonic the Hedgehog and I remember eating the same Vienna sausages out of the same baby-blue can. If the central tension of tradition is whether it can coexist in our haphazard future, Evan provides an answer: yes, and enthusiastically so.

In the opening shot of Labrador journalist Ossie Michelin’s short documentary, Evan’s Drum (2021), we meet our titular character— the young and exuberant Evan Winters—standing atop a mountain of pristinely crisp snow. With a maestro’s timing, he spins around and greets the camera, wide-eyed and brimming with joy, to answer a neighbouring bird’s call. Over the next 14 minutes, Evan, just seven years old, reveals his enduring charisma. Sitting snugly at the centre of the frame, sunlight streams from behind the young boy and cascades down the soft white slopes—at this moment, it feels like Evan is the light’s sole source. It’s easy to see why Michelin chose to revolve his project, a heartfelt documentary on the resurgence of Inuit drum dancing in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, around Evan. He makes for a sublime hero: curious, sweet and loving, he is a boy who adores and respects his mom and who always seems surprised at his own unbridled potential. Evan’s interest in drum dancing is the spark that ignites the film and Michelin is careful to depict his passion as self-motivated; nurtured but not pressured by his community. Part of what makes Evan’s interest so vital to both the story and to drum dancing’s re-emergence within the region is this self-drawn enthusiasm. As his mother, Amy Winters, mentions early in the film, Evan’s sister would attend drum dances but never developed an interest. This contrast between siblings gestures at the uncertain timelessness of traditions—what parts of Inuit culture will remain relevant as new generations supersede and time lurches forward?

— Stefan Chua is a writer and photographer based in Toronto, ON.

OPPOSITE & LEFT

Ossie Michelin — Evan’s Drum (stills) 2021 Documentary short film 14 min 15 sec COURTESY NATIONAL FILM BOARD OF CANADA © THE ARTIST

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I N U IT SA N AU G A N G IT Art Across Time

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏ ᑦ

ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ ᑕᐃᓱᒪᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᓕᓴᐃᑦ

APR 1, 2023–JAN 7, 2024 Curated by Dr. Darlene Coward Wight and Jocelyn Piirainen Eva Talooki Aliktiluk, Woman Wearing Beaded Amautik, 1993. Collection of the Winnipeg Art Gallery

wag.ca

Rasa Smite + Raitis Smits, Atmospheric Forest, 2020, immersive VR installation

FEBRUARY 01 — MAY 13, 2023

CURATED BY JANE TINGLEY Free public reception Wednesday, February 01 from 6 to 9 p.m. FREE ADMISSION ocadu.ca/onsite Onsite Gallery, OCAD University, 199 Richmond St. West, Toronto, M5V 0H4

eXhibitiOn ARtisTS URSULA BIEMANN MARY BUNCH + DOLLEEN TISAWII'ASHII MANNING LINDSEY FRENCH GRACE GROTHAUS SUZANNE MORRISSETTE JOEL ONG RASA SMITE + RAITIS SMITS JANE TINGLEY WITH FAADHI FAUZI + ILZE (KAVI) BRIEDE

ARTISTS’ CORNER

CALLING ALL INUIT ARTISTS!

Make Connections and Grow Your Practice with an Inuit Artist–Only Online Resource Portal The Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal (DQAP) is an innovative digital platform shaped by Inuit artists for Inuit artists. Launched by the Inuit Art Foundation on January 30, 2023, DQAP is specifically focused on supporting Inuit artists with career resources and community building opportunities.

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Inuit Art Quarterly

1. Dez Loreen, 2. Aedan Corey, 3. Megan Kyak-Monteith, 4. Shirley Moorhouse, 5. Annie Aningmiuq, 6. Jason Sikoak PHOTO COREY HUNLIN , 7. Katherine Takpannie, 8. Isabelle Chapadeau, 9. Sonya Kelliher-Combs, 10. Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory COURTESY CHICKWEED ARTS, JAMIE GRIFFITHS , 11. Saali Kuata PHOTO LISA MILOSAVLJEVIC , 12. Inuksuk Mackay, 13. Jocelyn Piirainen, 14. Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona, 15. Barry Pottle, 16. Aghalingiak (Zoe Ohokannoak) PHOTO CORA DEVOS , 17. Erica Joan Donovan, 18. Phebe Bentley, 19. Billy Gauthier, 20. Christopher Blechert, 21. Kale Sheppard, 22. Glenn Gear PHOTO LISA GRAVES , 23. Beatrice Deer PHOTO ALEXI HOBBS ALL © THE ARTISTS

Spring 2023

ARTISTS’ CORNER

An Artist Portal that can connect artists who have questions with those who can provide answers will prove to be an invaluable resource.” ELDRED ALLEN ARTIST, DIGITAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE MEMBER

Facilitating Community Connections

Making Grant Applications Easy

DQAP makes networking with other artists easy, as members can securely provide their contact information to other artists. Artists can use these connections to discuss common challenges, collectively find solutions, initiate collaborations, ask for support and mentorship and much more. There are so many ways to connect and support one another! To support artists that reside in regions with low internet connectivity, DQAP is available in both high- and low-bandwidth versions.

Finding grants and applying for them is easier now than ever before with tips and support from DQAP! With over 250 grants available for artists across Canada (and more added all the time), members can find grants relevant to them, organized by artistic medium, location or deadline. Artists, do you need tips or advice for applying? Workshops that help navigate the process of applying for funding are available on DQAP, in addition to IAF staff support. DQAP also makes it easy to connect with others who have successfully applied to and received grants so you have the support you need.

How to Become a Member

Learning New Skills DQAP is full of dedicated resources for Inuit artists, including the Ilisarniq Series workshop videos and in-depth conversations between artists across the circumpolar North. Members get access to culturally specific workshops like ulu making and throat singing, can easily register for live events and enjoy recordings and transcripts of events afterwards. Members also have exclusive access to postings of professional opportunities across Canada such as employment openings and calls for submissions.

DQAP is available to all Inuit artists 18 years of age and older.

THOMASSIE MANGIOK

SONYA KELLIHER-COMBS

DAYLE KUBLUITOK

To become a Portal member visit inuitartfoundation.org/portal or scan the QR code!

ELDRED ALLEN

DEZ LOREEN

ROBERT KAUTUK

The Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal is led by a Digital Advisory Committee: Thomassie Mangiok (artist, founder of Pirnoma Technologies Inc.), Dayle Kubluitok (artist), Eldred Allen (artist), Sonya Kelliher-Combs (artist), Dez Loreen (writer, actor, filmmaker) and Robert Kautuk (artist).

The IAF would like to extend thanks to the many Inuit artists, including those on staff, who have taken time to review and provide feedback to this important project. Without their help, Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal would not have been realized.

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

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PROFILE

Isabelle Chapadeau

by Autumn Fourkiller

Though Chapadeau loves creating jewellery, fans of her work can purchase a variety of mugs, Land Back merchandise and digital art. Much of her recent digital work features the landscapes of her youth, such as prints depicting inuksuit in vibrant, beautiful colours. When asked about this divergence from her jewellery practice, Chapadeau explains that as she grows, simplicity is what brings her happiness and joy. The idea for the prints came to her while fishing and regarding the land, which is older than all of us, with a modern eye. “[The inuksuk] symbolizes a good place, a place of plenty,” she says. “It really showcases us as a people, I think. We’re not keeping the best for ourselves, but instead sharing it.” This, too, is the philosophy behind her art. Community is a running theme across Chapadeau’s life, and she mentions how lucky she has been when sourcing materials. Her family and community members give her materials they know she’ll use in her art, like sealskin and fur from a variety of hunted animals. Chapadeau strives to return the favour by sharing her

Isabelle Chapadeau is an emerging multidisciplinary artist with a passion for beaded jewellery and digital renderings of familiar Inuit landscapes. Chapadeau, who is from Iqaluit, NU, but grew up in Sept-Îles, QC, was surrounded by a family who taught her the importance of preserving Inuit cultural practices from an early age. Her first solo forays into art were earrings that she made for herself with the aid of a friend who was self-taught, though she quickly grew impatient with the beginner forms. After moving to Montreal, QC, as an adult, Chapadeau learned beading and began to experiment with sealskin after seeing Inuvialuk multidisciplinary designer Inuk360 (Inuk Trennert) do the same. Chapadeau strived to make her way forward as an artist, incorporating her own stylistic preferences with the cultural tradition of using what the land provides. Instagram became a very important tool for Chapadeau to share and sell her art. Under the handle @isapiu_, the bright colours and eye-catching compositions that she favours thrive. Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

PROFILE

knowledge with others. Her current occupation outside of her artistic practice is to serve Inuit teenagers in the Ottawa, ON, area as a cultural educator through the Inuuqatigiit Centre for Inuit Children, Youth and Families. She has a high regard for the youth she teaches, smiling broadly when speaking about the students’ current beading efforts with an Elder teacher. For Chapadeau, it is inspirational to see youth creating for themselves, which motivates her to make more art. She hopes that members of her community see her as an example of what they can do. “It’s about empowerment,” she says. “If I can do it, so can you. I want [Inuit youth] to share in this creation and community with me, as a safe space.” Still, Chapadeau longs for home. Eventually she would like to return to Iqaluit, the place where her life and her artistic education began, bringing forth a deeper connection to the land and her community. — Autumn Fourkiller is from rural Oklahoma. She is currently at work on a novel about ghosts, grief and Indigeneity. A 2022 Ann Friedman Weekly Fellow and Tin House Summer Scholar, her work can be found in Longreads, Atlas Obscura and Catapult, among others.

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Untitled 2021 10/0 glass and seed beads

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Isabelle Chapadeau — Inuksuk on the Land 2022 Digital art 27.9 × 21.6 cm

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This exhibition presents drawings made primarily during the experimental and formative years of the Kinngait Studios (1959-1960s). Artist Unknown, FIGURE, c.1959 Graphite, 13 x 8 in.

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TH ROUG

H LINE : Reneltta Arluk and the Continuum of Indigeous Voice

— by Christopher Morris

Actor and director Reneltta Arluk has been changing the game in theatre for Indigenous artists ever since she entered the industry in 1995, making her voice heard and presence felt at the forefront of theatre today. Longtime friend and collaborator Christopher Morris examines Arluk’s career to date and what motivates this high-powered performer to keep creating.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

In early December 2022, I was sitting in the audience at the National Arts Centre (NAC) in Ottawa, ON, on the day Reneltta Arluk’s production of The Breathing Hole was about to premiere. The show follows a polar bear on an epic five-century journey through the tragic Franklin Expedition into a twenty-first century ravaged by climate change. As one of the actors in the show, it was one of those strange parts of the rehearsal process wherein I sit in the audience with the rest of the creative team and the director takes the actors’ place on stage to address us. There Arluk stood, all five foot one of her, surrounded by large set pieces of ice on this enormous stage. She spoke passionately and emotionally to us about the power of the production we were about to open, the importance of offering love and kindness to each other during the run, and asking us for our patience and understanding with the process. As I listened to this powerhouse of a woman speaking from the heart on the enormous NAC mainstage, I was in awe of how far my friend had come and felt so fortunate to be a part of this history defining moment in Canadian theatre. I first met Arluk in 2009 when I directed her in my production of Night, a play set in modern-day Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet), NU. She portrayed Gloria, a troubled teenager surviving her difficult homelife. In those days Arluk was a scrappy committed actor who brought great depth and humour to her work onstage. For me, a settler who grew up in Markham, ON, Arluk was that special kind of collaborator who was completely invested in our work and always advocated for me as an artist. Over the years since then, she’s acted in many productions like Peter Hinton’s Copper Thunderbird (2006) at the NAC and The Rez Sisters (2014) at the Belfry Theatre in Victoria, BC. She was nominated for Outstanding Lead Performance by the Montreal Theatre Awards for her searing performance as the Dying Woman in Imago Theatre’s production of Pig Girl (2016), a play based on the events of the 2007 Pickton case, which Arluk did while four months pregnant. Whether tied up and kneeling on the

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Photo of Reneltta Arluk in Banff, AB, 2018 PHOTO KARI MEDIG ALL © THE ARTISTS

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Else Charlem Danielsen as Hummiktuq in The Breathing Hole, Ottawa, 2022 Production Design Daniela Masellis Costume Design Samantha McCue Lighting Design Leigh Ann Vardy COURTESY NATIONAL ARTS CENTRE PHOTO FRED CATTROLL

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A scene from The Breathing Hole, directed by Reneltta Arluk COURTESY NATIONAL ARTS CENTRE PHOTO FRED CATTROLL

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Reneltta Arluk as Gloria in Night, Toronto, 2011 Set and Costume Design Gillian Gallow Lighting Design Michelle Ramsay COURTESY FACTORY THEATRE PHOTO CHRIS GALLOW

was raised on the land by her grandparents, with little access to live theatre. “I was raised with song and story and laughter, I’m a storyteller, so as a political act of cultural resurgence, I became an actor,” Arluk says. “That’s ultimately how I went from an Indigenous perspective into a Westernized or European art form.” At 19 she attended the Centre for Indigenous Theatre in Toronto, ON, and at 20 she was accepted into the University of Alberta, where she was the first Indigenous graduate of their BFA acting program. There have been many other firsts in Arluk’s career: first Inuk director at the Stratford Festival, first Inuk director on the National Arts Centre mainstage, first Inuk Head of Indigenous Arts and Programming at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. Arluk dismisses this list—“the first Indigenous anything is not uncommon, there’s always a lot of firsts”—but I tell her that it’s her list of “firsts”

dirt floor or staring down the audience defiantly, it was a visceral experience to watch her. With a few words, she riled and inspired you; with a look, she broke your heart. She was utterly captivating. Under her theatre company Akpik Theatre (Akpik being the namesake she received from her Inuvialuk grandmother Alice Simon), she has written, directed and acted in powerful productions that have received national and international recognition. Fuelling all of this work is Arluk’s commitment to community building. “I come from a very Indigenous-rich part of the country and when I was a teenager, I felt like I was looking at a whole country of Indigenous people struggling to make their culture survive,”1 Arluk told me by Zoom. Sitting in her kitchen in Banff, AB, wearing her signature large, dark-rimmed glasses with her dwarf-pet parrot Tulu Ulu on her shoulder, Arluk shared how she became an actor. Born in Fort Smith, NT, to Inuvialuk/Dene/Cree parents, she

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

a phone call. Staats had to pivot from a 3D printing residency during Arluk’s tenure at the Banff Centre. “What keeps any Indigenous leader going is thinking about those voices yet to come, and what we are leaving for them. As an artist, Reneltta is in service of the work. And if the work includes voices unheard, then [she’s] in service to the voices, and in some cases, ancestors and future generations. There’s a continuum to her service of Indigenous voices and our responsibility to Indigenous knowledge.” 2 Arluk took a hands-on, community-building approach to programming during her five-year tenure at the Banff Centre. She initiated a hide tanning workshop, an Indigenous singer/ songwriter residency, an Indigenous Haute Couture Fashion residency and a weeks-long residency for Indigenous leaders from Canada’s classical music community, to name a few. Staats was deeply moved by Arluk’s advocacy, which included inviting him to her house and feeding him moose stew, homemade bannock and

that are noteworthy, since they often found her working in large institutions in a capacity that could affect lasting change. Arluk represents the fact that Indigenous women should, and can, be in positions of power. Arluk’s curiosity and openness were necessary qualities when she began at the Banff Centre in 2017, moving from performing as a theatre artist to supporting Indigenous artists across digital media, visual arts, literary arts and performing arts—dance, music and theatre. But being the Director of Indigenous Arts in a colonial institution could be a daunting task, and when I ask her why she wanted to work at the Banff Centre, she says, “Because it was another act of cultural resurgence!”—as her parrot flies off her shoulder. “[It was] a way to provide opportunities for Indigenous artists, to support emerging works.” “Reneltta does what she does for the voices yet to come,” Skarù:reɂ - Hodinosho:ni visual artist Greg Staats tells me during

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Marcelo Arroyo, Julie Tamiko Manning, Reneltta Arluk and Graham Cuthbertson in Pig Girl, Montreal, 2016 Set and Costume Design Diana Uribe Lighting Design Andrea Lundy COURTESY IMAGO THEATRE PHOTO TRISTAN BRAND

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Reneltta Arluk as the Dying Woman in Pig Girl COURTESY IMAGO THEATRE PHOTO TRISTAN BRAND

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impact.”3 Already considering a career change in 2018, when Thompson saw Arluk’s Banff appointment she thought, “If I can go to Banff and work with her, it’s going to be a really great adventure.” So Thompson moved with her family to Banff, and forged a professional and personal friendship with Arluk that lasts to this day—she was Arluk’s guest on the opening night of The Breathing Hole. “You have to be fearless to lead Indigenous Arts at a large institution,” says Thompson, “and Reneltta was fearless. Voices like Reneltta’s need to lead. She doesn’t have to be the Director of Indigenous Arts, Reneltta could be the CEO of any institution right now and would help lead it to the right place.” But Arluk faced many barriers as an Indigenous artist and administrator at the Banff Centre. Though her position was created out of Banff’s response to a 2016 Truth and Reconciliation summit, institutions take a long time to steer in another direction. “No institution knows their responsibility to decolonization because right now nobody knows how to do this work,” Arluk tells me. “I tell every White person I speak to about this work: you’re never

cranberry jam when he needed support. “I’ve only met four or five people in my life that are of her caliber, who really step up and support artists,” says Staats. “She has the capacity to make change happen.” And Arluk was indeed the first to pivot at the Banff Centre to support artists during the COVID-19 pandemic. With Against the Grain Theatre’s artistic director Joel Ivany, she created the film Messiah/Complex (2020), which featured a diverse cast of soloists and choirs from every province and territory across Canada performing Handel’s Messiah in multiple languages. It received rave reviews and was awarded a Noteworthy Project Award in 2022 from OPERA America Awards for Digital Excellence in Opera, a powerful testament to Arluk’s skill of bringing people together from different backgrounds and disciplines to create art that speaks to both Indigenous and non-Indigenous audiences. “Reneltta’s programming was electric,” says Rosemary Thompson, former Vice President of Marketing and Development at the Banff Centre. “She experiments and creates things that have a tremendous

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Allyson Pratt as Kâwanihot Iskwew in Pawâkan Macbeth, Stratford, 2020 Production Design David Douglas Skelton Costume Design Logan Martin-Arcand Lighting Design Kerem Çetinel COURTESY BANFF CENTRE FOR ARTS AND CREATIVITY PHOTO DONALD LEE

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Mitchell Saddleback as Otepwestamâkew in Pawâkan Macbeth, Stratford, 2020 COURTESY BANFF CENTRE FOR ARTS AND CREATIVITY PHOTO DONALD LEE

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Lisa Goebel, Dillan Chiblow and Raes Calvert in Sedna, Armstrong, 2018 Production Design Marshall McMahen Costume Design Jay Havens Lighting Design Jillian White COURTESY URBAN INK PRODUCTIONS PHOTO TIM MATHESON

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Brefny Caribou and Raes Calvert in Sedna COURTESY URBAN INK PRODUCTIONS PHOTO TIM MATHESON

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Julie Lumsden performing “He Shall Feed His Flock,” in Messiah/Complex, Lake Louise, 2020 COURTESY AGAINST THE GRAIN THEATRE PHOTO DANIEL THOMSON

going to get it right, so just keep doing things wrong until you do things less wrong. And there has to be a grace and an understanding to that.” When the pandemic eviscerated the Banff Centre’s finances, the focus started to change. “We were unable to unsee what was always there—the deep inequities of Indigenous and BIPOC voices were brought to the surface with the thousands of unnamed Indigenous children found in unmarked graves at multiple residential schools, and across the border with George Floyd,” says Arluk. “We watched as these cultural institutions were forced to face themselves, their limitations, and ask what their value was in this country. It was a prime opportunity for the Banff Centre to rebuild the place and listen to the voices of the people they brought in who knew ancestrally what it meant to overcome. But instead, it just became business as usual and the priorities of upholding Truth and Reconciliation were not being upheld or prioritized, so I left.” Less than a year later, relishing her role as a working artist, Arluk started rehearsals on The Breathing Hole. The 2022 production was a re-working of the 2017 version Arluk premiered at the Stratford Festival. The biggest change this time around was presenting the first act of the play, which is set in Natillingmiutut Territory in 1535, in the Natillingmiutut dialect. The Breathing Hole had a cast of 16 settler, First Nations and Inuit actors from Nunavut, Greenland and Denmark, requiring Arluk to devise a rehearsal process that could support the needs of this diverse group of artists with different work experiences. For me, as a White theatre artist, before I start rehearsals on a show I know exactly the kind of “Western/European” process I’m walking into, but Arluk has had to create a new way of working on all of her productions. “We’re inventing the wheel every time,” Arluk says. “It’s not recognized that it’s a new system every time we work because what we’re doing has never been done before. It’s a huge learning curve.”

As a theatre director, she is responsible for making tough decisions and balancing many different cultures and skill sets, and with The Breathing Hole she had the added pressure of being responsible for representing a culture on stage. “I’m connected to many communities—I’m registered as Inuvialuit, I have my Gwich’in family tree, my Fort Chip’ family tree—there’s a responsibility that I hold in all of those faces and I don’t think I can lower one to raise another,” says Arluk about the pressure to get this kind of representation right. “I’m Reneltta, and I didn’t ask to have all these nations in me, but I do, and I honour them.” Ultimately The Breathing Hole, like much of her career, came down to the people it serves. “All the work that I do is always to bring people together and to bring people up. From an Indigenous perspective, it’s knowing that I serve,” Arluk says. “With The Breathing Hole, I always had my eye on that end, that the show is going to have a run and that it’s going to be successful.” As the lights rose on the opening night of The Breathing Hole at the NAC, I held my breath as an Inuk woman walked onstage and spoke in the endangered dialect of Natillingmiutut to a mixed audience of settler and Indigenous theatregoers. And at that moment, community was created. Voices were heard. And I know that future generations will be better for it. — Christopher Morris is an actor, playwright and director and the artistic director of the Toronto-based theatre company Human Cargo. Morris wrote and directed Night which premiered at the National Arts Centre in 2009. Beyond The Breathing Hole, his recent acting credits include The Runner (Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre, Magnus Theatre) and Measure for Measure, Much Ado About Nothing (Canadian Stage). His TV credits include Orphan Black, Frankie Drake, Murdoch Mysteries and The Girlfriend Experience.

NOTES 1

All quotes from Reneltta Arluk, interview with Christopher Morris, December 2022

All quotes from Greg Staats, interview with Christopher Morris, December 2022

All quotes from Rosemary Thompson, interview with Christopher Morris, December 2022

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ᖄᖓᑕ

In the last 15 years there has been an explosive resurgence in Inuit traditional tattooing, with films like Alethea Arnaquq-Baril’s Tunniit: Retracing the Lines of Inuit Tattoos (2011), initiatives like the Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project led by Hovak Johnston and workshops training a new generation of Inuit traditional tattooers. IAQ Associate Editor Napatsi Folger sat down with noted scholars Maya Sialuk Jacobsen and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski to hear their thoughts on the complexities of these resurgent practices. Jacobsen, a tattooer and leading scholar of tattooing practices across Inuit Nunaat, and Zawadski, an anthropologist and curator studying, in part, motifs in Inuit tattooing and sewing, share their interpretation of historic and contemporary tunniit (facial tattoos) and kakiniit (body tattoos) practices, as informed by their lived experiences and research. This Feature highlights important topics surrounding the practices, from the differences between histories of Inuit in Greenland and Canada to the impact of colonialism on traditional tattooing. Content note: This article contains a brief mention of residential schools.

1 Mary Edetoak, Charles Camsell Indian Hospital, Edmonton, 1958 COURTESY LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA / NATIONAL FILM BOARD FONDS / E011176882 PHOTO GAR LUNNEY

Inuit Art Quarterly

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2 Peggy Pojuktok/ Pudjuktok, Bathurst Inlet, n.d. COURTESY NWT ARCHIVES / HENRY BUSSE FONDS / N-1979-052: 0955 PHOTO HENRY BUSSE

3 Kila, Coronation Gulf, 1916

COURTESY GEORGE H. WILKINS / LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA / KENNETH GORDON CHIPMAN FONDS / PA-165665 PHOTO GEORGE H. WILKINS

4 Kuptana holding Donald Ayalik, 1937 COURTESY NWT ARCHIVES / HENRY G. COOK, BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE OF THE ARCTIC, 1906 / N-1979-032: 0016 PHOTO HENRY G. COOK

5 Helen Kalvak in Ulukhaktok, 1977 COURTESY NWT ARCHIVES / HENRY BUSSE FONDS / N-1979-052: 0955 PHOTO TESSA MACINTOSH

Germaine Arnaktauyok — Rite of Passage 2021 Etching 34.3 × 44.5 cm COURTESY INUIT GALLERY OF VANCOUVER ALL ARTWORKS © THE ARTISTS

Spring 2023

ᐅᑭᐅᑦ 15 ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᐳᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᑐᑎᑐᑦ ᑖᔅᓱᒧᖓ ᐊᓕᑎᐊ ᐊᕐᓇᖅᑯᖅ-ᐸᕆᐊᓪ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ: ᐅᑎᖅᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ (2011), ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑎᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕋᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᑖᔅᓱᒧᖓ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᓪᓗᓂ ᕼᐅᕙᒃ ᔮᓐᔅᑕᓐᒧᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑲᑎᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᓐᓂᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᔨᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕗᐊᕐᔪ ᐃᒃᓯᕚᖃᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᒫᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭᒥᒃ, ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖕᒪᖔᑕ ᓈᓚᒃᖢᓂᒋᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓕᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᕈᔪᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᓕᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᓂᒃ. ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓲᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᕙᒃᖢᓂ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ, ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᓕᕆᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᑦᑕᕐᓂᓴᕐᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᕐᓂᒃ (ᑮᓇᕐᒧᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓰᑦ) ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑭᓂᕐᓂᒃ (ᑎᒥᒧᑦ ᑲᑭᓃᖅ), ᐊᑐᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑐᓴᕈᒥᓇᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᑦ, ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᓐᓂᖏᓪᓗ ᐊᑯᑭᑦᑐᒥᐅᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᖏᑦᑕ ᓯᕗᓂᕕᓂᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓇᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᒃᑐᓂᖃᓚᐅᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᑲᑭᓂᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐅᔾᔨᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᒋᐊᓕᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ: ᐅᓇ ᐅᓂᑳᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖄᕐᔪᒃᑐᖅ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ ᐅᖓᓯᒃᑐᒧᑦ.

ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

3 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ 1 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᒥᐊᓕ ᑭᓚ, ᖁᕐᓗᖅᑑᑉ ᐃᔨᑐᐊᖅ, ᓵᓕ ᑲᒻᓯᐅᓪ ᐃᖅᑭᓕᑦ ᐋᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂ, ᐃᖃᓗᒃᑑᑦᑎᐊᓪᓗ ᐊᑯᓐᓂᖓᓂ, 1916 ᐃᑦᒪᓐᑕᓐ, 1958 ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᓯᔪᖅ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᕆᔨᓪᓗ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ / ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑕᕐᕆᔮᒃᓴᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ ᑲᑎᒪᔨᖏᑦ / E011176882 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᒑᕐ ᓘᓂ

2 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᐱᒋ ᐳᔪᒃᑐᖅ/ᐳᓪᓗᖅᑐᖅ, ᕿᖓᐅᑦ, n.d. ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᒥ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ / Hᐊᓄᕆ ᕙᓯᒧᑦ ᑎᑭᓴᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ / N-1979-052: 0955 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ Hᐊᓄᕆ ᐸᓯ

Line

ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᓯᔪᖅ ᔪᐊᔾ H. ᐅᐃᓪᑭᓐᔅ / ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᕆᔨᓪᓗ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ / ᑭᐊᓇᑦ ᒍᐊᑕᓐ ᓯᑉᒪᓐ / PA-165665 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᔪᐊᔾ ᐅᐃᓪᑭᓐᔅ

4 ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᐊᖑᓛᓕᒃ ᓄᓕᐊᖓ, ᑯᑉᑖᓇ, ᑎᒍᒥᐊᖅᑕᖓ ᑖᓄᑦ ᐊᔭᓕᒃ, 1937 ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᒥ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ / Hᐊᓄᕆ ᑯᒃ, ᐃᒃᓯᕋᕐᔪᐊᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, 1906 / N-1979-032: 0016 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ Hᐊᓄᕆ ᑯᒃ

5 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᕼᐊᓚᓐ ᖃᓪᕙᒃ ᐅᓗᒃᓴᖅᑑᖅ, 1977 ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᒥ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ / Hᐊᓄᕆ ᕙᓯᒧᑦ ᑎᑭᓴᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ / N-1979-052: 0955 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᑕᓴ ᒫᑭᓐᑖᔅ

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᔨᕐᒪᐃᓐ ᐊᕐᓇᒃᑕᐅᔪᖅ — ᐊᖅᑯᓵᕐᓃᑦ 2021 ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᒃᑯᑦ 34.3 × 44.5 cm ᐱᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖓ ᕚᓐᑰᕙᒥ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ © ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔩᑦ: ᐃᓕᔅᓯᒃ ᒪᕐᕉᓗᓯᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓂᐱᒋᔭᐅᕗᓯᒃ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᖅᑎᓪᓗᓯ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ. ᖃᓄᕐᓕ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᒪᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕕᓯᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ? ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᖕᒥ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐱᐅᒌᓐᓇᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᕋ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᓐᓇᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᕐᒥ, ᐃᑦᑕᕐᓂᑕᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖃᑎᒋᔭᕋ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᐃᒡᒎᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᕐᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓖᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᔪᑦ. ᖃᐅᔨᓴᒃᑲᓐᓂᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᓱᖓᐅᔭᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᓪᓗ, ᐊᓐᓄᕋᔾᔨᐅᕐᓂᕐᒧᓪᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᕈᒪᓪᓗᖓ. ᐊᑐᓗᐊᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᕋᒪ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕈᑎᓂᒃ, ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ.

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᑲᑭᓕᖅᓱᐃᓐᓇᖃᑕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓᓕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᖏᑦᑎᑐᑦ. ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒐᓗᐊᖅᐳᖓ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖃᕋᑦᑕ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᖏᓐᓇᒪ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᑕᒫᓂᓕ ᑲᓛᖦᖠᑦ ᓄᓈᓐᓂᒥᐅᑦ ᐅᐊᖕᓇᖓᓂ, ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᖃᑦᑕᕈᓐᓃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ 250 ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᑦ. ᐃᓚᑦᑎᓐᓂᓗ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᖏᖦᖢᑕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᑐᓗᐊᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᑎᑎᖃᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᐅᔪᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ, ᐃᑦᑕᕐᓂᑕᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ. ᐅᑭᐅᑦ 12 ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᓗᐊᕈᓐᓃᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑲᑭᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕆᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑐᐃᒃᑯᑦ ᐋᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᓂᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᖃᐅᔨᔪᒪᒻᒪᕆᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᔭᕌᖓᒪ, ᖁᓕᓂᒃ ᐊᐱᖅᑯᑎᒃᓴᖃᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᖅᑲᕈᓐᓇᐃᓪᓕᓪᓗᖓ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓛᔅᑲᒥᐅᓂᒃ, ᖃᐅᔨᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᖃᕈᒪᒍᑦᑕ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᕆᐊᖃᖅᐳᒍᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᖏᓐᓇᑦᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᑕᕗᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑏᑦ. ᑭᓱᒥᒡᓕ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᐱᑕ, ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑐᐊᖑᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᓕᕆᔩᑦ ᑎᑭᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ 50 ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᖅ ᐱᑕᖃᕈᓐᓃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕗᖅ. ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ 50-ᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᑐᖃᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᑭᖑᕚᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᐃᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᑮᓇᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ, ᐃᓕᓚᐅᖅᐸᒃᑲ ᓇᑎᕐᒧᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓄᓇᖑᐊᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓕᖅᖢᖓᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ Below the Surface

INUIT ART QUARTERLY: You are both respected voices in the conversations happening around Arctic Indigenous tattooing today. What sparked your interest in learning about traditional tattooing? KRISTA ULUJUK ZAWADSKI: When I was growing up in Igluligaarjuk [Chesterfield Inlet, NU], my interest was always there, but it was always kind of a mystery. During my undergrad, one of the archaeologists I studied with mentioned that a lot of art on tools could correlate with tattoos. I started to do more research into tattoo motifs on tools, beadwork, clothing design and sewing techniques. So it’s been this lifelong process of research to fill that gap, created by colonialism, in our knowledge. I’ve relied a lot on stories, archival research, art, photographs and ethnographies. MAYA SIALUK JACOBSEN: About 12 years ago I started slowing down with the Western tattoo work because I had a shoulder injury, and just started reading about [Inuit tattooing]. It made me so curious. Every time I figured something out, I had ten new questions, and I never stopped. Later when I started talking to people in Canada and Alaska, I realized that if we want to use Indigenous research methodologies, we have to be so aware of the coloniality in ourselves and in the people that we are researching, as well as the sources we are using. What seems to be the case, not only in the Arctic but across the world, is that about 50 years after the missionaries arrived tattoo practices disappeared. It takes 50 years to remove language and memory to stop that passing down from generation to generation. After collecting a vast number of images of facial tattoos, I laid them out on the floor on this imaginary map of Inuit Nunaat and I could see the timeline, the migration, and see where things altered, but I didn’t know why. I understood that it had to be spiritual because the timelines and this stretch of area that they were covering without changing indicated how important they were. I started understanding how the geography of the landscape and the hunting methods of different areas correlated with certain types of patterns. I looked at the makeshift map I had laid out for three days and then I said, “Well, welcome to the rest of your life.” IAQ: How did your family and communities respond to your tattoos when you first got them? KZ: I’ve had a lot of people seeking guidance, especially in my family. My nieces are asking me a lot of questions. That really warms my heart because I’ve helped open up that safe space for my family. Part of the reason it’s not so shocking for my community may be because I have them on “normal” body parts; I don’t have anything on my face or my neck or my chest. But I know people here with tattoos on these “taboo” places, according to the colonial perspective.

ABOVE

Arnarulúnguaq — Untitled (Nâlungiaq’s tattoos) c. 1923 Graphite COURTESY NATIONAL MUSEUM OF DENMARK

MJ: When I got my facial tattoos, I was already fully tattooed and they just blended in with all my Western tattoos. At home in Greenland the tattoos have been connected to the decolonization movement. They have been politicized and people automatically assume that you have certain opinions and ideas if you have tattoos, which is not the case with me. Typically if a client gets facial tattoos their families are very moved and happy when they get the right tattoos from their homelands. But when they design the

OPPOSITE

Françoise Oklaga — Untitled (Human-animal transformations) 1979 Coloured pencil 63.5 × 83.8 cm COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐊᕐᓇᕈᓗᙳᐊᖅ — ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖅ (ᓈᓗᖏᐊᑉ ᑐᓐᓂᖏᑦ) c. 1923 ᕿᕐᓂᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓕᓚᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑎᐊᓐᒫᒃᒥᑦ

ᑕᓕᖅᐱᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᕗᕌᓐᓱᐊᔅ ᐅᒃᓚᒐ — ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖅ (ᐃᓄᙳᖅᑐᑦ ᐆᒪᔪᙳᖅᑐᓪᓗ) 1979 ᐊᒥᐊᓕᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᑦ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᒃᑯᑦ 63.5 × 83.8 cm ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᒪᕆᐊᓐ ᓯᑳᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂᑦ

ᑕᑯᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓᓕ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐅᑎᖅᑎᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕈᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᕆᕗᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓕ ᑕᓪᓗᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᓯᒪᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᑐᓕᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᖏᑦᑐᑦ; ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓᓕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᐅᓇᓱᖕᓂᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᓇᓱᒋᔭᒃᑲ.

ᐃᖏᕐᕋᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᖏᑦᑐᖓ ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑐᑭᓯᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑎᑕᐅᓇᓱᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᕕᒋᕙᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑎᑦᑎᖕᒪᑕ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑐᑭᓯᓕᓚᐅᕆᕗᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᓄᓇ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒡᕕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᓂᒃ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᐅᕐᒪᑕ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᐅᔪᓂᒃ. ᑕᑯᓕᖅᖢᖓᓗ ᓄᓇᙳᐊᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓚᐅᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᓂᒃ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ, “ᑐᙵᓱᒋᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᙵᓕᒫᖅ ᐃᓄᓯᕆᔭᕐᓄᑦ.”

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓕ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕈᑕᐅᓯᒪᓕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᕈᑕᐅᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᐆᒻᒪᖅᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᒧᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ.

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ: ᖃᓄᕐᓕ ᐃᓚᑎᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᑎᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᓚᐅᖅᐸᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᖃᓕᕐᓂᕐᓄᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᖅᑖᓵᖅᑎᓪᓗᑎᑦ?

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᒃᑯᓪᓕ, ᐅᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᐳᖓ ᐆᒻᒪᖅᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕈᑕᐅᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᐊᑐᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒥᒡᓕ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᕋ. ᑐᐊᕕᓗᐊᕋᓱᒋᔭᕋᓕ ᐆᒻᒪᖅᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᑯᓂᐸᓗᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᓲᖑᖕᒪᑕ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐆᒻᒪᖅᑎᑦᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᐅᓇᓱᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓇᓱᒡᓗᓂ ᐱᓪᓚᑦᑖᕐᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑮᓇᖏᑦ ᐱᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᓱᓕᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᕆᐊᖃᖅᐳᒍᓪᓕ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐱᔪᒪᔪᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᐅᒃᓴᕋᓱᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᑖᔅᓱᒧᖓ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ.

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐊᒥᓱᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᕿᓂᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔪᕆᖅᓱᐃᔾᔨᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᐱᕆᔪᓂᒃ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒡᓕ ᐃᓚᓐᓂᒃ. ᓄᐊᑯᓗᒃᑲ ᐊᐱᕇᓐᓇᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᐱᖅᑯᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ. ᐆᒻᒪᑎᒃᑯᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐆᓇᖅᓯᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᑲᔪᕐᓂᖃᓕᓚᐅᕋᒪᑦ ᐃᓚᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓚᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔫᑉ ᖁᒃᓴᓪᓚᖕᓇᓗᐊᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᓕᒡᓕ ᑕᒫᓂ ᑎᒥᒥᑦ “ᓈᒻᒪᒃᑐᒦᑎᓐᓇᒃᑭᑦ”; ᑮᓇᓐᓂᓪᓕ ᐱᑕᖃᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᖁᖓᓯᓐᓂ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓴᒡᕕᓐᓂ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᖓᓕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᒫᓂ “ᐱᔭᕆᐊᖃᙱᑦᑐ”-ᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑎᑭᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ.

ᓇᓃᑉᐸᓪᓕ ᒪᓕᒐᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᖅᐱᒍᑦ ᓱᖏᐅᑎᓗᒋᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᒨᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᔭᑦᑎᓐᓅᑦ? ᑕᒫᓃᑦᑐᓐᓃᖅᑐᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑭᒃᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᐱᓇᓱᓕᕐᒪᑕ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓈᒻᒪᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᖏᖦᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᒥᓂᒃ. ᑕᕝᕘᓇᓕ ᐊᑲᐅᒋᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ 12-ᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᖢᒍ: ᑭᙴᒪᓂᖃᖅᐱᑕᓕ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᖢᑕ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᒃᖢᑕ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒦᒃ? ᐱᖁᔭᐅᓯᒪᕕᑕ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐅᑎᖅᑎᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ? ᖃᓄᐃᒃᑲᔭᖅᐸᓕ ᐆᒃᑐᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᐊᖅᖢᑕ? ᓱᕋᒃᑎᕆᓕᖅᐱᑕᓕ ᓴᓇᒃᑲᓐᓂᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᑎᒎᑦ?

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᑮᓇᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓚᕆᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦᑎᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓕᖅᖢᓂ. ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒻᒪᕆᓐᓂᓪᓕ ᑲᓛᖦᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑎᑭᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ. ᒐᕙᒪᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᑐᖁᔭᐅᔪᓐᓃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᐸᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᒐᕕᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖃᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᒐᕕᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑐᓐᓂᖃᓕᖅᐳᑎᑦ, ᐅᕙᓐᓄᓪᓕ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᓱᒪᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖓ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᒑᖓᒥᒃ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᐊᓗᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᑦᑎᐊᕌᖓᒥᒃ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᕐᒥᐅᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᒑᖓᑕ ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕐᓂᐊᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ, ᐃᔾᔪᐊᖅᓯᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᓪᓚᕆᖕᓂᒃ, Line

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ: ᑕᒪᑐᒪᓂ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᑕ, ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᒌᒍᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑐᑭᖓᓂᒃ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᓕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᖃᓄᕐᓕ ᐃᓱᒪᕕᑦ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᑭᖓ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ?

Below the Surface

tattoos themselves, inspired by the original pattern base, I see a bigger pushback on it. There’s a lot of coloniality in the reception of tattoos as well. These big chin tattoos are not happening; I think it has a lot to do with Western beauty standards. KZ: Those are really good points about the colonial aesthetic and how that’s influencing the revival today. MJ: From a research standpoint, I would say it’s not a revival, it’s a reinvention. It’s going too fast to be a revival because it takes time to take in the spirituality and to change your mind around Western beauty standards and to get used to and relearn the beauty of the Inuk face. We should be honest about that because maybe somebody wants to actually revive it with the purpose of

For this Feature, the IAQ also spoke to three emerging Inuit tattooers and cultural advocates: Aedan Corey, Malayah Enooyah Maloney and Aghalingiak (Zoe Ohokannoak). Here they weigh in on the loss of traditional knowledge and how it concretely affects them. AGHALINGIAK (ZOE OHOKANNOAK): Growing up, signs of tattooing practices were there; however, the main viewpoint was that it was something in the past and that it wouldn’t happen again, which is really unfortunate to grow up believing. Feeling numb toward one’s own culture is strange. MALAYAH ENOOYAH MALONEY: I’d say the loss of our language has really impacted the way you connect to culture because we don’t know the stories. We don’t know how to ask the questions.

Inuit Art Quarterly

the original spirituality and everything that is connected to it. Where are the rules around tattooing and can we adapt them to contemporary life? They’re gone, so everybody is just doing what they feel is right for them without thinking collectively for the group. That’s where I am most frustrated after 12 years of doing this: are we missing a conversation about the social framework around the tattoos? Are we allowed to redraw them? What happens to the pattern base? Are we destroying it by reinventing?

ABOVE

Ningiukulu Teevee — Untitled 2022 Acrylic, coloured pencil, pastel and ink 39.5 × 189 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS

IAQ: In this new generation of tattooers, there is an ongoing discussion about the meanings of specific designs. What do you think of the way meaning is evolving for young Inuit? MJ: The spirituality and the hunting aspect

There’s such a huge language barrier that I feel like an outsider among my own people. AEDAN COREY: Residential school survivors who were taught that their culture was evil don’t necessarily have the same level of comfort talking about tattooing practices as people who haven’t had those experiences. Those of us who have members of our family who have been to residential school, we still carry that trauma. AO: You can very much sense it from survivors who are also scared to address it. As a person who has residential school survivors in my own family, I am afraid to ask anything of what has happened and it’s so hard to break those barriers.

AC: Tattooing was banned historically— it wasn’t just a suggestion that you should stop—it was forced. They would say, “You’re gonna stop or you’re gonna go to hell, or we’re gonna do these horrible things to you.” So there’s this disconnect for a lot of people. There’s this collective trauma that we face that really impacts our ability to share and to pass on knowledge to each other through the generations. How do we have these discussions? What pain will come of that for a lot of people? And are we ready to handle that with the little resources that we have right now?

To read more from emerging artists Aedan Corey, Malayah Enooyah Maloney and Aghalingiak (Zoe Ohokannoak) about the questions facing the new generation of Inuit tattooers, visit inuitartfoundation.org/tattoo.

Spring 2023

ᑕᕝᕙᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᒥ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᓚᐅᕆᕗᑦ ᐱᖓᓱᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓲᖑᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᓕᕆᔨᐅᔪᑦ. ᐊᐃᑕᓐ ᑯᕆ, ᒪᓚᐃᔭ ᐃᓅᔭ ᒪᓘᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒐᓕᒋᐊᒃ ᐅᓱᑲᓐᓄᐊᖅ. ᐅᖃᓪᓚᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᓂᕋᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᕆᐊᖃᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒻᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓯᒪᒻᒪᕆᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐊᖓᓕᖏᐊᖅ ᐅᓱᑲᓐᓄᐊᖅ: ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ; ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒻᒪᑲᓪᓚᒃᓯᐅᑕᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᔾᔮᕈᓐᓃᖅᖢᓂ, ᐱᐅᒋᓚᐅᙱᑕᕋ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᓴᖅᖢᖓ ᐅᒃᐱᕆᓪᓗᒍᓗ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕆᓪᓗᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᓈᒻᒪᖏᑦᑐᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒃ. ᒪᓚᐃᔭ ᒪᓗᓂ: ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕗᑦ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᓪᓗᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᐳᖅ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᓐᓃᕋᑦᑕ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓂᒃ. ᖃᓄᕐᓗ ᓇᓗᓪᓗᑕ ᐊᐱᕆᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔪᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐋᓪᓚᐅᓕᖅᑐᖓ.

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᐅᒃᐱᕈᓱᖕᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᖅ (ᐱᑕᖃᕈᓐᓃᖅᑐᑦ). ᑐᑭᖓ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᐊᔾᔨᒌᒃᑐᑦ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 20-ᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᓄᑦ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ 20-ᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᓯᖃᖅᐳᖅ. ᑲᑎᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᕕᓂᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᑦᑎᓐᓂ ᐱᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᑯᓪᓕ, ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᒫᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓖᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᒃᑯᑐᐊᖅ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖃᕋᓱᒃᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᕗᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᑦᑕᓇᖅᑑᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᓂᑐᐊᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔪᓂᒃ. ᐃᒻᒥᒃᑰᓗᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᖕᓂᖃᖅᐳᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖃᖏᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ.

ᐊᐃᑕᓐ ᑯᕆ: ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐅᖓᓯᒃᑐᒧᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᖏᒡᒎᖅ ᐱᐅᖏᑦᑐᐊᓗᐃᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᖢᕐᕆᓂᖃᕈᓐᓃᖅᐳᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᐅᕙᒍᓪᓕ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᖢᑕ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ, ᑖᒃᑯᑎᑐᓇᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᕗᒍᑦ. ᑐᑭᓯᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᐳᒍᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐅᕙᖓ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᖢᖓ ᐃᓕᓐᐊᓂᕆᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ, ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᐳᖓ ᐊᐱᕆᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᒻᒪᕆᒃᑭᕗᖅ ᐲᕋᓱᒋᐊᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᐊᐳᖅᑕᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ.

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐊᓈᓇᒐᓗ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᕗᒃ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᖅ, ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᒃᖢᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᖏᒥᐅᑦ ᐃᓅᔾᔪᑎᒃᓴᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐅᖃᑲᐅᑎᒋᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᐊᓗᐃᒡᒎᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᑐᑭᓯᐅᒪᖏᒻᒪᑕ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓅᔾᔪᑎᖃᕆᐊᖃᕐᒪᖔᑦᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑦ ᐱᖃᑎᒌᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᑦᑕ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ 50-ᓂᒃ. ᐃᓱᒪᖅᑳᕆᐊᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᐳᑎᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᖃᑎᖕᓂᒃ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᐹᒥᒃ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᒥᑭᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐅᖓᓯᒃᑐᒥᐅᑕᕐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂᒃ.

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔩᑦ : ᐅᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᐱᑦ ᓴᓇᒪᓂᐅᑉ ᑐᑭᖓᓂᒃ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᕈᓘᔭᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑐᑭᖃᕐᒪᑕ ᑭᐅᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᕈᔪᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ?

ᐊᐃᑕᓐ ᑯᕆ: ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᖅ ᐲᖅᑎᑕᐅᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕗᖅ, ᐅᖃᐅᔾᔭᐅᓚᐅᖏᖦᖢᑎᒡᓗ ᓄᖅᑲᖁᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑎᓕᐅᕆᒻᒪᕆᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐲᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ. ᐅᖃᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒡᓗ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᕐᓂᐊᖅᑕᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓇᖅᑐᕕᖕᒧᐊᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᑎᑦ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐃᓕᔅᓯᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᐅᖏᑦᑐᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐱᓂᐊᖅᑐᒍᑦ.” ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᐅᔾᔭᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓇᑲᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒥᓂᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓵᖅᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒍᑎᒋᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᐸᕗᑦ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᐃᓪᓕᒐᑦᑕ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᑭᖑᕚᑦᑎᓐᓄᓪᓗ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓪᓗᓂ. ᖃᓄᕐᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᓯᕕᑕ? ᐋᓐᓂᕈᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᐊᓕᖅᐸᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᐊᓗᖕᓄᑦ? ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐱᒋᐊᕈᓐᓇᖅᓯᕕᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᓯᓗᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᑎᒎᓇᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᑕ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ?

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᐃᒻᒪᓂᓴᕐᓕ, (ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓰᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᖓᒃᑯᓄᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᐅᓲᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐋᕐᖑᐊᑦ) ᑭᒡᓕᖃᓗᐊᕋᔭᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐋᕐᖑᐊᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᑐᓂᓯᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᒧᑦ ᓴᙱᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᔪᓯᑦᑎᐊᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᑦᑎᐊᕙᐅᓗᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᓄᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᕈᓐᓇᕋᔭᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐆᒪᔾᔪᑎᒃᓴᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑐᓂᓯᕙᒡᓗᓂ.

ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖃᖅᐳᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑕᓕᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐅᒃᑯᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᒡᕖᖕᓄᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᔭᐅᕗᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓄᑦ; ᐅᔭᒦᑦ ᑲᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᑕᐅᓲᖑᕗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᓕᖓᓐᓄᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓲᖑᕗᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖏᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᕗᖅ ᓇᓕᐊᖕᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᒍᕕᑦ ᐅᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᐳᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᓲᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑎᒥᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ.

ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒃᑲᓐᓂᕈᒪᒍᔅᓯ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᐃᑕᓐ ᑯᕆᐅᑉ, ᒪᓚᐃᔭ ᐃᓄᔭ ᒪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖓᓕᖏᐊᖅ ᐅᓱᑲᓐᓄᐊᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᐱᖅᑯᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓅᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐅᕗᖓ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᖅᐳᓯ inuitartfoundation. org/tattoo.

ᖁᓛᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᓂᖏᐅᑯᓗᒃ ᑏᕕ — ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖅ 2022 ᐊᒥᐊᑦ, ᑕᖅᓴᓕᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᑦ, ᐊᒥᐊᕆᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᒪᓕᑦ 39.5 × 189 cm ᓴᓇᔭᐅᒃᑲᓐᓂᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖏᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂᑦ

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Below the Surface

[have been removed]. The meaning is all about identity. The same tattoo pattern tattooed on 20 different girls means 20 different things. It was highly group-oriented in its traditional form, as was everything in our lives. In the oral tradition, all the stories about people who decided to go out as individuals show how it was risky to have people only thinking about themselves. A hyper-individualized focus on self clashes with the traditions of tribal tattooing. KZ: One of the themes that my mother and I often talk about is inuuqatigiitsiarniq or katujjiqatigiitsiarniq, working together for community living, and my mom is quick to point out that so many people today don’t understand the concept of living and working as a community the same way we did 50 years ago. You had to think about the community first, especially in small or isolated places. IAQ: Can you share the meaning of designs, or are there too many varied meanings to be able to give answers like that? MJ: Historically, [tattoo patterns or amulets] would be more limited to how hunting methods were used. These amuletic patterns are giving the hunter strength and luck to be a successful hunter for the whole community to survive. Archival materials show that arms and legs and chest tattoos would be pretty similar for each tribe; they would put the amulet together in a certain way and had certain placement on the arms. That part is easier to say that whatever group you are belonging to those are your body tattoos. The face tattoos, however, seem to have always had more distinctions. The forehead, for example. There are certain groups where the line goes down on the nose; there are certain groups where it doesn’t and some have the more flat M shape. There are certain rules, but within those rules there are exceptions, too. It seems to me that the facial tattoos all had some kind of specific look for the person, there was a little bit of individuality in the facial design within those frames. Now tattoos are not connected to hunting in the reinvention of Inuit tattooing. Sometimes when people are saying, “I refuse to share [the meaning] because it’s private, it’s for our people,” I wonder if it’s because they don’t know, because they can’t explain it. And the reason is that it takes a thousand years to realize it and to understand it and to do that research. KZ: I’ll differentiate or I’ll say, “I’m from this region, I’m from this community and it means this, but it might mean something else somewhere else.” I agree that oftentimes people maybe don’t have that breadth of knowledge. These remnants of our belief systems are still being passed on and lived, but coloniality is still trying to claw itself into our culture. IAQ: What are your thoughts about using traditional methods versus incorporating new technologies like tattoo guns?

ABOVE

Aghalingiak (Zoe Ohokannoak) — Kanok Piniaka, Series #4 2022 Oil 165.1 × 76.2 cm

MJ: There is only one way at the moment that we can go through [tattoo hygiene and safety training] and that is through Western tattooing practices. Not only do you need training in using the machine, but also the health and safety part of using a machine is much more evolved than for hand poking. If you are not a trained tattooer

Inuit Art Quarterly

OPPOSITE

Cora DeVos — Untitled 2017 Digital photograph

Spring 2023

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᐊᒃᓴᓕᖏᐊᖅ (ᔫ ᐅᓱᑲᓐᓄᐊᒃ) — ᑲᓄᒃ ᐱᓂᐊᑲ, ᓴᖅᑭᑕᓂᑦ 4 2022 ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑐᐱᐅᔭᕐᒦᑦᑐᖅ 165.1 × 76.2 cm ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑰᕋ ᑎᕗᔅ — ᑕᐃᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖅ 2017 ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ

ᑕᐃᒪᓕ, ᑮᓇᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᙵᓕᒫᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᓐᓂᖃᓲᖑᕗᑦ. ᐆᒃᑑᑎᒋᓗᒍ, ᖃᐅᖓᒍᑦ. ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐃᓚᒌᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᒪᐃᓕᖓᔪᒥᒃ ᐱᓲᖑᔪᑦ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᑭᓕᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᖓᖓᒍᑦ ᑎᑭᓯᒪᓲᖑᕗᑦ; ᐊᓯᒃᑲᓐᓂᖏᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐃᓚᒌᖑᔪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᖃᑦᑕᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᓪᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ M-ᒥᒃ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᖃᓲᖑᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᒪᓕᒐᖃᖅᑐᖃᕐᒥᔪᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᒪᓕᒐᕐᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᐅᑎᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᒥᔪᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑮᓇᕐᒧᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᒧᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᓐᓂᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᐃᓄᖕᒧᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᓐᓂᖃᓕᕈᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ. ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᕐᓕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᕉᓐᓃᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᕆᕙᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦᑎᑐᑦ. ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᖃᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᐅᖃᕈᒪᙱᑦᑐᖓ (ᑐᑭᖓᓂᒃ) ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᔭᐅᓂᐅᖕᒪᑦ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᒋᔭᐅᓂᖓᓄᑦ,” ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᖏᒻᒪᑕᖃᐃ, ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕈᓐᓇᙱᓚᑦ. ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᕐᓕ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᓴᓐᕌᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᔪᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᔾᔪᑎᒋᓕᕐᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕈᑎᒋᓕᕐᓗᓂᒋᑦ.

ᑲᐱᓯᑦᑕᕈᓐᓇᖅᐳᑎᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᓐᓂᖅᓯᓇᔭᖏᓚᑎᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᑕᕐᓂᒃ.

ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᕐᒥᔪᖅ, ᒪᑯᓂᖓ ᓴᐅᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᒥᖅᑯᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᕙᓗᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖏᓪᓗᓯ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᒍᕕᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ (ᓴᓗᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ) ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᕈᕕᑦ. ᑕᑯᓯᒪᓕᖅᐳᒍᑦ ᑕᒻᒪᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᕐᒥᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᒥᒃ ᒥᖅᑯᑎᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᓄᓪᓗ ᐱᔭᐅᓲᖑᔪᖅ, ᖃᓄᕐᓗ ᓴᓗᒻᒪᖅᓴᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᔭᐅᓲᖑᔪᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᕈᒪᒍᕕᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᕆᐊᖃᖅᑐᑎᑦ. ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᕐᓗᒋᓪᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖅᑎᑐᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕐᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᑐᑦᑕᐅᓲᑦ, ᐊᔾᔨᒋᙱᑕᒃᑰᓕᕋᑦᑕ; ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᓕᖅᐳᖅ; ᐃᖏᕐᕋᕗᒍᑦ; ᐱᑕᖃᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᐋᓐᓂᐊᕐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ; ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᒡᓗ ᖃᓂᒻᒪᒍᑕᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ; ᐳᕙᒡᓗᖕᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑦᑕᓇᖅᑐᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᕆᓪᓗᓂ. ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐊᖏᕈᑎᖃᖅᐳᖓ ᓴᐅᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᒥᖅᑯᑎᓂᒃ. ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᕆᕗᖓ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓲᖑᔪᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᒥᖅᓱᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ? ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᒥᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖏᒃᑯᕕᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓗᖃᑦᑎᐊᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᒡᓗᑎᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᑎᑦ ᓴᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ ᒥᖅᑯᑎᒥᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᒻᒪᑦᑎᐊᕋᔭᖅᐳᑎᑦ.

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐅᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᒫᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᕗᖓ, ᑕᒫᓂᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐳᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᒃ ᑐᑭᖃᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᓕᒃ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ.” ᐊᖏᖅᐳᖓᓕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖃᓗᐊᖏᒻᒪᑕ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᐅᒃᐱᕆᔭᕗᑦ ᓱᓕ ᑭᖑᓂᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᓂᔾᔪᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᓇᓱᐃᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ.

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ : ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᐱᑦ ᑭᓱᓄᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᔾᔪᑎᕕᓃᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓃᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᕐᓂᕐᒪᖔᑕ?

ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ : ᖃᓄᕐᓕ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᖅᐱᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᐅᕈᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᑭᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᔾᔪᑕᐅᓲᓂᒃ?

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᙶᕋᑦᑕ. ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒥ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑲᓛᖦᖡᑦ ᓄᓈᑦ, ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓄᑦ ᑎᑭᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᐃᓐᓇᕗᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐊᑖᑕᑦᑎᐊᒃᑯᒃᑲ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᒃᑯᒃᑲ ᓄᓇᒥᐅᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑑᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᙳᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᖏᓐᓃᖏᓐᓇᖅᐳᖅ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᕋ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑦᑕᖅᐳᖅ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᓲᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᕿᖓᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᒑᖓᑕ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᖃᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ.

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᕐᓕ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᐃᔪᓐᓇᖅᐳᒍᑦ (ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᓂᖅ ᓴᓗᒪᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᖅ) ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᒪᑯᑎᒎᓇᖅ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᒋᕙᒃᑕᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᖃᖏᓚᑎᑦ ᐊᑐᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᒥᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐋᓐᓂᐊᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑐᕆᐊᖃᖅᐳᒍᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᒥᒃ ᓴᓗᒪᓂᖅᓴᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᑲᐱᓯᑦᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᖏᒃᑯᕕᓪᓕ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᑎᓪᓗ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ

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ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑕᖏᓐᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖃᖅᐳᑦ.

Below the Surface

so much external pushback but it had already been taken out of the culture.

and you are learning tattooing as you go, you should be hand poking for sure. There’s less risk of hurting the people that you’re tattooing. Then there’s the other side of this whole spectrum of tools, and that’s the bone needles and the sinew thread. Just don’t, unless you are a trained tattooer and you are in an environment that can [hygienically and safely] carry this. We’ve seen it go wrong. First of all, to create the needles for tattooing takes a lot of skill and knowledge in how to preserve them, how to clean them. You need training to do this. Leave the really traditional tools and materials, because we are different now; there are more people; we’re travelling; there are epidemics, pandemics, tuberculosis and it’s just too dangerous.

MJ: I think the same thing happened to all of us, but at different times. People who convert are always super strong in their faith and it is such a difficult discussion to have. It is hard to bring up how instrumental these new Christians were in pushing away the old parts of our culture, replacing them with shame. While we could not talk about the tattoos with our Elder women, they would teach us all kinds of other traditional things, so we have a very strong cultural anchor in Greenland. I feel like the more “Greenlandic” you are, for example, if you are living your entire life out in the hunting areas, you don’t need the tattoos. But the more Danish or the more mixed you are, the lack of language, the bigger the town you come from, the more you want the tattoos. It seems to be replacing a lack of other cultural aspects that we are missing.

KZ: I agree about the bone needles. Another thing that comes to mind is how good is the tattooer at sewing? If you’re somebody who is not very good at sewing and who doesn’t have the best stitches and you’re trying to use a bone needle, that’s something that could go very wrong very quickly.

KZ: We need that social framework when it comes to learning about our culture. I have a lot of conversations at home about sewing and patterns and Inuit concepts of copyright. I have sewing patterns that people have shared with me. There’s almost a lineage for the pattern. Where did you get it? Can I use it? Can I adjust it? Can I share it? You could apply those protocols to other aspects of our culture, including clothing and tattoo design.

IAQ: Can you talk about what contributed to the loss of knowledge about traditional tattooing? KZ: We’re coming from very different places. When you think about places like Nunatsiavut, similar to Greenland, they were colonized so early on that it’s really impacted their culture and language in different ways today, whereas here in Nunavut, my grandparents were living on the land until they were teenagers. It’s still in people’s living memories. My grandmother, she’ll talk about how the tattoos are supposed to be placed, or how far down they have to go to the bridge of your nose. In other places there are different levels of knowledge. In Nunavut, Christianity and colonialism are the biggest factors for the loss of knowledge. There is also the adoption of Western aesthetics. People who are not much older than me remember their grandmothers having tattoos, but then they couldn’t carry it on. Maybe in the 1940s and ’50s it was priests and nuns that were saying, “No, you can’t do it.” By the 1970s and ’80s, there wasn’t

MJ: I want people to differentiate between the original pattern base of traditional tattoos and what we could call neo-Inuit work, or neo-traditional work. Every tattoo is valuable. I love all of them. However, it is important that we know what Inuit tattooing is, and what is tradition versus what is new. The sheer amount of new Inuit tattoos has drowned out the original base if you go online. But there are beautiful archives, we have hundreds of pictures and drawings and descriptions of traditional tattoos. I’m really rooting for [people] to use those and find the areas that correlate with their mother line. It has to be the mother line, because those are the women who wore the tattoos.

Maya Sialuk Jacobsen is a tattooer, researcher and cultural disseminator from Qeqertarsuaq in Northwest Greenland. She has been tattooing for 22 years. Her tattoo research includes the material and immaterial cultural heritage of Inuit from Alaska, Canada and Greenland. Krista Ulujuk Zawadski is a PhD candidate, curator, researcher, anthropologist, beader and sewist from Igluligaarjuk (Chesterfield Inlet), NU, and Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU. She holds an MA in Anthropology from the University of British Columbia.

LEFT

OPPOSITE

Salomonie Pootoogook — Tattooed Face 1970 Steatite 15.2 × 12.7 × 14 cm

Mark Bennett — Study of a Deconstructed Kakiniit 2020 Screen print 112 × 76 cm

COURTESY WADDINGTON’S AUCTIONEERS AND APPRAISERS, TORONTO

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᓪᓕ, ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍᓗ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᔾᔪᑕᐅᓛᖑᒻᒪᕆᒃᐳᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᓕᕆᕗᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐊᖓᔪᒋᓗᐊᙱᑕᒃᑲ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᕗᑦ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕈᓐᓃᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᑕᒫᓂ 1940-ᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ 1950-ᓂ ᐃᒃᓯᕋᕐᔪᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᔭᐃᑦ ᐅᖃᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᐳᑦ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᐋᒃᑲ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᖃᖏᑦᑐᓯ” 1970 ᐊᒻᒪᓗ 1980 ᐊᑐᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓗᐊᕈᓐᓃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᐳᑦ. ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓᓕ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐅᕙᒍᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᓇᓱᒋᕗᖓ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᖏᑕᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᒃᐱᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᙱᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᑦ ᐅᒃᐱᕈᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᒻᒪᕆᒃᖢᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ. ᐊᔪᕐᓇᕆᕗᖅ ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᒃ ᓄᑖᑦ ᐅᒃᐱᖅᑐᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᓯᐅᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᒻᒪᕆᖕᒪᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᓗᕈᒃᑯᓇᖅᓯᑎᖦᖢᓂᔾᔪᒃ.

ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒍᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᐃᓪᓕᓗᑕ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓐᓇᖁᑎᒋᔭᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᓄᑦ, ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᕐᒥᔪᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᕙᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᓴᙱᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᐳᒍᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒫᓂ ᑲᓛᖦᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᓲᕐᓗ “ᑲᓛᖦᖠᐅᒐᕕᑦ” ᐃᓄᓯᓕᒫᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒡᕕᐅᕙᒃᑐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓗᑎᑦ, ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᒪᔭᕆᐊᖃᖏᓚᑎᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑖᑕᖃᕈᕕᑦ, ᐅᖃᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᙱᓕᕐᓗᑎᑦ, ᐊᖏᓂᖅᓴᒥᒡᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᕕᓂᐅᓪᓗᑎᑦ, ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᔪᒪᓂᖅᓴᐅᓇᔭᖅᑐᑎᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓇᖏᖅᓯᖅᑰᔨᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᖅ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂ. ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ: ᐱᔭᕆᐊᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᐳᒍᑦ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓗᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᕕᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᐸᒃᐳᖓ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᓐᓂ ᒥᖅᓱᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᔪᕆᑕᐅᔭᕆᐊᖃᙱᑦᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᖃᐅᓕᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᐱᔭᕕᓂᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐆᒃᑑᑏᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᒃᑲ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᓇᑭᓪᓕ ᐱᓚᐅᖅᐱᒋᑦ? ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᐳᖓ? ᐋᖅᑭᒋᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᖁᓐᓇᖅᐸᕋ? ᑐᓐᓂᖅᑯᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᖅᐸᕋ? ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᖃᐅᓰᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓲᖑᕗᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᖅᐳᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᑎᒍᑦ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᕗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᖅ.

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓯᓲᖑᕗᖅ, ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᓕᕆᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᒪᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᓂᒃ ᕿᑭᖅᑕᖅᓱᐊᕐᒥ ᑲᓇᖕᓂᖅᐸᓯᐊᓂ ᑲᓛᖦᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂ. ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᒃ 22-ᓂᒃ. ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᕆᖃᖅᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᐃᓂᕐᒧᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔭᕆᐊᓕᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᑦᑕᕐᓂᓴᖅᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᓛᔅᑲᒥᐅᑕᑦ, ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᓛᖦᖠᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᑦ.

ᒪᔭ ᓯᐊᓗᒃ ᔭᐃᑯᑉᓴᓐ: ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖁᔨᒐᓗᐊᖅᐳᖓ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑐᓐᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᑕᐃᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᓄᑖᑦ-ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓄᑖᑦᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔪᑦ. ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᑐᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᑦ. ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᒃᑲ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ, ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᕗᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᑕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᕙ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᐃᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᓄᑖᖑᔪᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓄᑖᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑎᒋᕙᓕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᑐᕈᑕᐅᔪᓐᓃᖅᐳᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖅᑎᑐᖅ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒍᕕᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᔪᓐᓇᖅᐳᑎᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᑎᒍᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᒃ ᑐᖅᑯᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᕆᕗᖅ, ᐊᒥᓱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕆᕗᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖅᑎᑐᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ. ᐱᓇᓱᒻᒪᕆᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᐳᖓ (ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ) ᐊᑐᖁᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓂᓯᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᓈᓇᖏᑦᑕ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᓂᕕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᓈᓇᐅᑉ ᐱᖏᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ.

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᖅ ᔭᕙᑦᔅᑭ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᓯᒪᓂᖃᒻᒪᕆᒃᖢᓂ ᓂᕈᐊᒐᒃᓴᐅᕗᖅ, ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ, ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᓕᕆᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ, ᓱᖓᐅᔭᓕᕆᔨᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᖅᑖᖅᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐳᕆᔅᑎ ᑲᓚᒻᐱᐊ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᖓᓐᓂᑦ.

ᐃᒡᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᓵᓚᒨᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ — ᑮᓇᖓ ᑐᓐᓂᓕᒃ 1970 ᓯᑎᔪᖅ 15.2 × 12.7 × 14 cm

ᖁᓛᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᒫᒃ ᐸᓇᑦ — ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕐᓂᖅ ᑲᑭᓂᕐᓂᒃ 2020 ᐃᒐᓚᐅᔭᕐᒥᑦ 112 × 76 cm

ᐅᐊᑎᖕᑕᓐ ᐊᑭᑦᑐᕋᐅᑎᔨᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᑎᖏᑦ, ᑐᕌᓐᑐ

Line

Below the Surface

Making a Mark:

— by Leslie Boyd

Looking Back on Pudlo Pudlat’s Monumental Solo Retrospective at the National Gallery of Canada

In 1990, Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992) became the first Inuk artist to be honoured with a solo exhibition of his work at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON— a pivotal moment in time not only for Pudlat but for the Inuit art world.

When the National Gallery of Canada (NGC) opened its new headquarters in Ottawa in 1988, the impressive new building included permanent galleries devoted to Inuit art for the first time. The gallery’s collection of Inuit art had grown significantly since the beginning of the decade, in large part through the transfer of important works from the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development (now Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada). This move signaled the beginning of Inuit art’s acceptance as a contemporary art form worthy of acquisition, study and exhibition at Canada’s premier art institution. Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing opened at the NGC in July 1990 and was the first major solo exhibition for an Inuk artist organized using the National Gallery’s own resources as opposed to a touring show from another gallery. The retrospective, which went on to travel across Canada and internationally throughout 1991, was conceived and organized by Marie Routledge, Assistant Curator, Canadian Art (Inuit). Her interest in Pudlo Pudlat stemmed from an outpouring of his work starting from the mid-1970s and extending throughout the next decade—a period of 15 years during which he became a major contributor to the co-operative in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU. At the time of the exhibition’s planning and preparation, Pudlat was in his early 70s and keen to share his thoughts about his life and his art. He had become philosophical in his old age and like most of his contemporaries in this generation of Inuit artists, he believed there was much to learn from the old ways. As he remarked in a conversation with art historian Marion E. Jackson: “Inuit struggled through a great deal, and so they had to have understanding and patience…this story from

my experience should help, help to make people more aware. This is a way to tell people more about feeling…and understanding…and patience.” 1 Pudlat was born in 1916 at Ilupirulik, a small camp near Amadjuak, about 350 kilometres east of Kinngait, the fourth son in a family of boys. He moved a great deal during his early years, eventually settling in the late 1950s at Kiaktuuq, which was one of the first camps visited by James Houston, OC, in his efforts to establish an arts and crafts program in Kinngait. Pudlat was among the first to try drawing. His earliest efforts, in graphite on coil-bound sketch paper, are dated 1961 in the drawing archive of the co-op. Pudlat’s unique talent was clear from the outset. He liked to focus on large-scale single subjects that burst off the page in bold and unusual forms. This kind of highly graphic imagery translated well to the stonecut printmaking process, so Pudlat quickly became well known and admired as a regular contributor to the Cape Dorset Annual Print Collections. The works in the National Gallery exhibition, however, were pulled from the drawing archive, which is a vast treasure trove that has existed behind the scenes of the better-known published print collections. According to Routledge, “Unlike the prints, which involve the skill and collaboration of a printer who also makes a contribution to the realization of the work, the drawings bring us closest to the hand and the eye of the artist.” She added, “Many surprising drawings were discovered.” 2 Pudlat’s work is forceful, fantastical, unconventional and innovative. More than others of his generation, he addressed the encounter between Inuit and southern culture, presenting a “creative and provocative mingling of the old and the new, the real and the imaginary.”3 There

Pudlo Pudlat — Spring Landscape 1977 Printmaker Saggiatok Stonecut and stencil 56 × 71 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE

Pudlo Pudlat drawing directly with a grease pencil onto a lithographic plate at the WBEC Co-op Lithography Shop, Kinngait, 1977 PHOTO TESSA MACINTOSH

RIGHT

Tale of a Huge Musk-ox c. 1982–83 Coloured pencil and black felt pen 56.7 × 76.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS GIFT OF THE WBEC COLLECTION NATIONAL GALLERY OF CANADA

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Making a Mark

is nothing tentative about his style, although he himself might have felt that way, at least initially.4 His subjects were often drawn from Inuit life—figures of women, in particular, animals, landscapes and hunting scenes—but, as Routledge remarked: “It would be difficult to use Pudlo’s drawings to describe traditional Inuit culture.” 5 Yes, indeed. Arctic fauna, especially the muskox, held a particular fascination for Pudlat. Muskoxen are not native to Baffin Island and he had only seen them from a distance, but they clearly left an impression.6 Pudlat’s muskoxen fill the page with their massive bulk, sometimes bleeding off of it altogether. He drew them from every imaginable perspective, in every colour of the rainbow, sometimes combined with elements of other animals, sometimes with humans. As he observed: “That could be the only thing I have drawn over and over again. It could be that I am amazed by that kind of animal.” 7 Another aspect of Pudlat’s work that is immediately gripping is his sense of humour. This is something of a paradox because Pudlat himself was a serious man and never admitted to being deliberately funny or provocative when questioned about his work. And yet, his preposterous scenarios and juxtapositions are very entertaining. He liked putting humans and animals together in precarious situations: sometimes the animals have the upper hand; sometimes the people. His human fi gures often seem stunted by their circumstances and surroundings, but they are nevertheless triumphant—riding the majestic beast, climbing to great heights or landing the walrus and whale. He also liked combining elements of the material world, such as tents and boats and flying machines, with elements of the natural world—loons in canoes, animals being transported by helicopters and fish turning into airplanes. At his most subtle,

Inuit Art Quarterly

he captured the sense of a moment that could be awe inspiring in its acuity. Pudlat certainly commanded the moment in 1976 when his now iconic print, Aeroplane, was released. He was not out of step with his times in depicting airplanes and helicopters in the northern skies, but he was a step ahead of his audience, at least to the Inuit art purists who lamented the departure from the expected subject matter. But others celebrated his audacity as a clear reflection of Inuit art as an authentic and evolving contemporary art form, with Pudlat leading the way forward. Some of Pudlat’s most lyrical drawings are of the land itself. He loved to look at the land and the sky and as new media like lithography and acrylic paint became available, he used his landscapes to explore the meeting and melding of cultures that was increasingly defi ning the modern North. This is how he explained his thinking behind one of his most important and symbolic drawings, North and South (1974):

BELOW (LEFT)

Untitled (Airplane) 1973 Felt marker 50.8 × 66 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COLLECTION ART GALLERY OF GUELPH

BELOW (RIGHT)

Pudlo Pudlat featured in Inuktitut Magazine, Issue 74, 1991 COURTESY INUKTITUT MAGAZINE

OPPOSITE

North and South 1974 Felt pen 51.1 × 65.4 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COLLECTION NATIONAL GALLERY OF CANADA

In the old days it seemed as if the North of Canada—the Inuit land—was split off, before telephones or radio. We were separated, even though we were part of one piece, Canada. But now we are touching each other—through CBC radio and telephones. So that’s why I made this [arc connecting the two pieces of landscape], because we are starting to understand each other. So this line that you see here means that we’re co-operating more. 8 Pudlat’s artistic expression led him on a journey of discovery. He welcomed the opportunity to explain the thoughts behind his work. The meaning wasn’t always as interpreted or emphasized by others, but there was a reason for including specific details or presenting a subject in a particular way, whether he was drawing from his experience or

Spring 2023

NOTES

his imagination. He believed that if an artist draws a subject over and over again in different ways, then they will learn something. “The same with someone who looks at drawings—if that person keeps looking at many drawings, then he will learn something from them too.” 9 Pudlat’s desire to share his artistic vision and his life experience was realized in his lifetime in Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing. The exhibition greatly expanded his southern audiences and introduced an entirely new, dynamic way of seeing and understanding the changing North. In conjunction with the exhibition, a comprehensive 193-page catalogue was published in three separate editions in English, French and Inuktitut. This was groundbreaking for its time and set an institutional standard for exhibitions and catalogues of contemporary Inuit art. Pudlat died in 1992 at the age of 74, just a year after the exhibition closed. Prolific in his output, Pudlat’s impact has been far reaching and substantial, leaving a legacy of more than 4,500 drawings and 190 published prints. As he told Routledge, “My brain and the pencil seem to go together when I start to draw something I have in my head.” 10

Pudlo Pudlat, quoted in “Pudlo Pudlat: Looking Back,” Interview with Marion E. Jackson and Letia Parr in Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing (Ottawa: National Gallery of Canada, 1990), 57.

Pudlat makes reference in the exhibition catalogue to seeing muskoxen near Resolute in the High Arctic (from an airplane) and in Nunavik, where they were brought in as part of a wildlife project.

Marie Routledge, “Introduction,” in Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing (Ottawa: National Gallery of Canada, 1990), 13.

Pudlo Pudlat, quoted in “Thinking on Paper: The Drawings of Pudlo Pudlat,” Interview with Marion E. Jackson, 24.

Ibid.

Ibid., 28.

Pudlat makes several references in the exhibition catalogue essays to the difficulty in learning how to draw and his initial lack of confidence.

Ibid., 15.

Ibid., 25.

— Leslie Boyd worked with Inuit artists for 32 years. She has lived and worked in Kinngait and in Toronto where she was Director of the co-op’s marketing office, Dorset Fine Arts. She now works as an independent writer and curator in the field of Inuit art. She is also an ICF–certified Executive and Mentor Coach.

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Marie Routledge, “Thinking on Paper: The Drawings of Pudlo Pudlat,” in Pudlo: Thirty Years of Drawing (Ottawa: National Gallery of Canada, 1990), 19.

Making a Mark

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Inuit Sovereignty, Inuit Architecture Where are the Inuit architects? There is a very small percentage of Indigenous people within the architecture industry in Canada. Of that percentage, Inuit representation is miniscule. What does that mean for the future development of Inuit Nunangat? The main reason I found myself pursuing architecture was because my family moved south for its endless educational opportunities and close proximity to universities. This is not necessarily the case for Inuit across the Inuvialuit Settlement Region, Nunavut, Nunavik and Nunatsiavut. Or even within Southern Canada. The architecture industry has changed increasingly over the past few decades with a greater reliance on computer software and industrial developments. Arctic communities have also seen an incredible amount of change. As I completed my degrees and entered the work field, it has been more evident on how critical Arctic development will become, but where are the Inuit architects to design the built environment on our homelands? In the past, Indigenous people were the architects of their own communities and in a sense still are. Now with permits, trade credentials, industrialized processes and other such controls, it is challenging for Indigenous communities to gain sovereignty of the built environment within their own communities.

Inuit Sovereignty = Arctic Construction =

Climate change is causing destruction on shorelines and Inuit Nunangat holds 50% of the country’s coastlines. The sea ice melt is making Northern shipping routes more accessible and resulting in more interactions with once very isolated northern communities. This is also concerning for Canadian sovereignty in terms of border protection. This is not to warn or scare anyone. Inuit have shown incredible resiliency and have adapted to a modern way of life, but we need to design our own communities in order to pursue our goals and navigate the variety of challenges ahead.

RIGHT

On location for Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner (2001) COURTESY ISUMA DISTRIBUTION INTERNATIONAL

Inuit Construction = Arctic Sovereignty.

Let’s inspire youth in the North with as many opportunities as we can. Let’s design resilient buildings in the North to foster better living conditions. Architects are said to be creative problem solvers, so let’s find some Inuit architects eager for the challenge.

Inuit Sovereignty, Inuit Architecture Architecture is a fast paced and constantly changing industry. There are endless opportunities and specialized jobs either in education, practice or research. The relationship between the architecture industry and the development of Inuit Nunangat is critical to understand for Inuit sovereignty. The Arctic is seen as a “new canvas” and new opportunity/adventure for architects to establish themselves and their work, but for Inuit it is their homeland. This project highlights the many barriers Inuit face in terms of access to education in the architecture field and how Inuit, along with other Indigenous people, need to become architects of their homeland as they once were since time immemorial. This project aims to inspire and raise the question: who is developing our communities? — Nicole Luke is an emerging Indigenous designer who is passionate about culture and design. Born in the Northwest Territories with family residing in the Kivalliq Region of Nunavut, she is one of the first Inuk architectural graduates in Canada and the first to receive her BA and MA from the University of Manitoba. Due to her wide exposure of urban and non-urban areas, Luke is focused on the design realities that communities face throughout the process of architecture and construction and is committed to understanding her role as a designer. She aspires to be one of the first Inuk architects in Canada and aims to involve herself in projects that will inspire youth in northern communities to pursue education in the design field. Luke believes that the built environment is a key factor to socio-economical agency and is dedicated to Indigenous initiatives as well as learning sustainable building practices.

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artist of the month of february Janice Parsons Yaya Inspirations (Janice Parsons), earrings, 2022

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CURATORIAL NOTES

Radical Remembrance: The Sculptures Of David Ruben Piqtoukun Art Gallery of Ontario JANUARY 21–JUNE 25, 2023 TORONTO, ON

In 2018, after the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) launched its McLean Centre for Indigenous & Canadian Art, the first two artists visitors encountered in this new space were Inuk sculptor David Ruben Piqtoukun and his brother, Abraham Anghik Ruben, OC. Wanda Nanibush, the AGO’s Curator of Indigenous Art, recalls wondering why an artist of Piqtoukun’s esteem had never had a major solo show at the AGO throughout his long career. Radical Remembrance: The Sculptures Of David Ruben Piqtoukun, curated by Nanibush, is an overdue celebration of the sculptor’s work, surveying five decades of his stone and metal works alongside ten new pieces. Here, Nanibush takes the IAQ on a tour of the exhibition, offering insight into her curatorial process and relationship with Piqtoukun’s work.

Inuit Art Quarterly

ABOVE

Installation view of Radical Remembrance: The Sculptures of David Ruben Piqtoukun ALL COURTESY THE ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO ALL ARTWORKS © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (TOP)

David Ruben Piqtoukun — Forte 2011 African opal, antler and guitar strings 78.4 × 50.8 × 35.6 cm OPPOSITE (BOTTOM LEFT)

Many Children 2021 Brazilian soapstone and red Arizona pipestone 58.4 × 27.9 × 38.1 cm OPPOSITE ( BOTTOM RIGHT)

People of the Midnight Sun 2017 Brazilian soapstone, black pearl stone, red Arizona pipestone and steel frame 213.4 × 99.1 × 63.5 cm

Spring 2023

CURATORIAL NOTES

Can you summarize this show in a couple words? Radical Remembrance sums it up. What does radical mean here? One meaning is root. I was thinking about the root of this work in memory and the way in which our cultures—mine is Anishinaabe and his is Inuit—pass on cultural knowledge through the retelling of stories. Coming out of residential school, this became a strong way to reconnect to his culture and to perform cultural resilience and resistance. After everything we’ve been through, that is radical. Does the exhibition have a theme? David doesn’t work thematically.

He always says that the material speaks to him. He can wait with a rock for a couple of weeks or for years. He knows when he starts where it’s going. Do you see connections in the work? It is a lot about the environmental crisis. It’s about the earth and our connection to animals going extinct and what’s happening in the Arctic. Can you recall a memorable moment working on this show? We already had 30 works in the collection. It was beautiful to bring him into the vaults because he doesn’t remember them all. The earliest is from 1972 and they run all the way up

to the ’90s. What was that like for him? I could see the emotion on his face, like, “Oh my god, I created all this.” As an artist, you work on one thing, and then the next, and you’re not thinking about 50 years of your creations. What mood did you want to evoke? I wanted each work to have breathing room. The mood is more meditative and the lighting is dramatic. I wanted the different colours to pop so you can feel the diversity of what he’s doing, and that requires intimacy. Many people don’t know how experimental his work is, so I wanted to blow their minds.

Forte (2011)

People of the Midnight Sun (2017)

David plays guitar. On the back of this piece he’s carved “ROCK ON.” If this show had a soundtrack, it would be country. He gave me a series of really old country CDs—I come from a reserve and so all of us grew up listening to country music.

This one struck me because the metal display mechanism is part of the work. He uses the symbolism of the colours: the red of the setting sun, and the blue, which makes him think of a cold Arctic. There is this beautiful two-sided face with words etched into it. The writing is of his family members talking about where they’re from. You don’t see that kind of carving on faces in any of his other work. We are people who have stories and are made from stories, but also the ways in which we articulate our connection to land is part of our claim for sovereignty. You can see the biggest words carved at the bottom of the face are “OUR LAND.”

Many Children (2021) This is his mother with all her children. David said as he carved, it continued to crack and all these faces began to appear. He is a child with 16 brothers and sisters, and I have 17 brothers and sisters, so I always joke with him that I beat him. I like this piece because it’s circular, in the way that we think about how we’re all connected. You can look at it from any angle and you’ll see more faces because there really are 17 of them in there.

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TRIBUTE

Henry Evaluardjuk

BELOW

Henry Evaluardjuk — Seasons (details) 1972 Whalebone 254 × 53.3 × 53.3 cm

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Henry Evaluardjuk carving, Iqaluit, 1964 COURTESY CHARLES GIMPEL / LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA / CHARLES GIMPEL FONDS / E011212063-V8

by Jamesie Taligvat Evaluardjuk Fournier

Henry Kiyujuk Evaluardjuk (1923–2007) was a gifted painter, draftsman and master carver. He was also my ataatatsiaq, my grandfather. I met Henry once when I was a toddler, he spoke only Inuktitut and I only English. I grew up in Yellowknife, NT, and visiting my grandparents in Iqaluit, NU, was a new experience entirely. I had never seen, let alone eaten nattiq before, so having the smell of fresh seal in the next room put me off; I started to cry. Henry then took me to his kitchen, brought down a small box and gave me a cookie. He smiled and I ate happily. That is my only memory of him. I have since travelled back to Iqaluit to learn Inuktitut and reconnect with my culture and family. Exploring Henry’s life Inuit Art Quarterly

and legacy has allowed me to come full circle in many different ways. Returning to Iqaluit from tuberculosis treatment in the South in 1959, Henry started a new chapter in his artistic career working for the arts programme at the Frobisher Bay Arts Centre (now the Nunavut Arctic College Jewellery and Metalwork Program). Iqaluit was quickly growing as an administrative centre and Henry was contracted to paint a series of murals about town. Sadly, the works have long since been destroyed except for one mural, which was found in 2021 in an Iqaluit basement. Qajaq Seal Hunting (1969) originally graced the interior of Iqaluit’s RCMP building that was demolished in 2006. At Iqaluit’s Nunatta Sunakkutaangit 70

Museum an immense whalebone carving juts out from the floor to the ceiling. From the sculpture, titled Seasons (1972), animals and Inuit gaze out as if trapped in bone. Crowning the piece, a hand stretches for the sky. Henry carved the massive rib for the historic Hudson’s Bay post in Apex, NU. Upon it, a simple moniker reads “Henry,” followed by “Ivaluaju,” written in qaniujaaqpait (syllabics). Fifty years from when he scored his first contours, I stand before the monstrous carving and pronounce our family name etched in bone. Last fall, my aunt, Suzanne Evaluardjuk, Henry’s daughter, told me about many of his achievements. The piece entitled Walrus & Bear Cub (1977) is what Henry considered Spring 2023

TRIBUTE

his master carving of his entire body of work. It was presented to US President and First Lady Ronald and Nancy Reagan in 1981, the same month there was a failed assassination attempt on the president. In a bizarre turn of events, Henry’s carvings continued to occupy the same spaces where political assassinations were attempted and failed. In 1995, a murderous assailant broke into Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chrétien’s home. If not for the bravery of his late wife, Aline Chrétien, the assassin may have succeeded. Upon encountering the knife-wielding intruder, Aline barricaded the door in their bedroom while the Prime Minister armed himself with a carving made by Henry. Years later in Iqaluit, Chrétien would ask the elderly Henry if he had any carvings to spare. Aunt Suzanne, interpreting at the time, posed the question, to which Henry replied, “Why? It’s not my fault he threw the last one at somebody!” When Chrétien asked for the translation, Aunt Suzanne politely replied, “He said no.” Henry was best known for his bears. Lithe polar bears caught in motion or dancing were his trademark. A “Henry Bear” is an honoured gift found in collections worldwide. Their sleek and gorgeous appeal reflects a man who has studied animals in the flesh. More than mere depictions, his work captures gestures between acts. Henry also enjoyed carving large imposing sculptures such as Fisherman (1963–64), which doubled its auction record in 2020 at $55,200. Henry’s legacy and influence continues to make waves. Henry and his first wife, Annie Majurtuq, had ten children. Four survive to this day: my mother, Luci Evaluardjuk, and my aunts Suzanne, Maata and Germaine. I never met my ananaatsiaq, my grandmother, yet 35 years after first meeting Henry I returned to Iqaluit in August of 2022 to attend the Pirurvik Centre, where I currently study Inuktitut. It is a wonderful experience in every way. Moving to Iqaluit also allowed me to finally meet my cousins, Joseph and Scotty and their amazing families. Joseph introduced me to his daughters, one whose namesake is Majurtuq after our anaanatsiaq. Scotty then introduced me to his infant son whose namesake is Henry. I smiled meeting my ataatatsiaralaapiga, my little grandfather. Iqaluit has been an incredible journey learning the language, land and people that Henry called home.

ABOVE

BELOW

Fisherman 1963–64 Stone, wood, antler and sinew 41.9 × 32.4 × 23.5 cm

Waving Polar Bear Seated on a Rock c. 1970s Stone 48.3 × 12.7 × 15.2 cm

COURTESY FIRST ARTS

— Jamesie Taligvat Evaluardjuk Fournier is an Inuk writer living in Iqaluit, NU. He was a guest author at the NorthWords Writers Festival in 2018 and 2020, and runner-up for Up here Magazine’s 2018 Sally Manning Award for Indigenous Creative Non-Fiction. His ﬁrst publication was in the 2012 NorthWords anthology, Coming Home: Stories from the Northwest Territories. His work has since appeared in the Inuit Art Quarterly, Red Rising Magazine and Northern Public Affairs. Line

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NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

BOTTOM (LEFT)

TOP

BOTTOM (RIGHT)

Zacharias Kunuk during filming of One Day in the Life of Noah Piugattuk, 2019

Clockwise from top left: Angela Aula, Braden Johnston, Inuk Trennert, Willow Allen, Nicole Janis Qavavauq-Bibeau, Julia Ulayok Davis

Kenojuak Ashevak — Enchanted Owl #24 1960 Printmakers Eegyvudluk Pootoogook and Iyola Kingwatsiak Stonecut 57.8 × 66 cm

COURTESY TIKTOK CANADA

The IAF Congratulates the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award Longlist

The NGC and AGO Welcome Jocelyn Piirainen and Taqralik Partridge as Associate Curators

On February 23 the Inuit Art Foundation was thrilled to announce the ten longlisted artists for the 2023 Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award. They are: Manasie Akpaliapik Deantha Edmunds Billy Gauthier Glenn Gear Maureen Gruben Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona Kablusiak Gloria Inugaq Putumiraqtuq Ningiukulu Teevee Couzyn van Heuvelen Each longlisted artist will receive a cash prize of $2,500 and be featured in a dedicated catalogue. The 2023 shortlist of five artists will be announced on May 19, with the winner revealed in a ceremony in late fall of 2023. Uvagut TV Petitioning for Mandatory Inclusion on Basic Cable Uvagut TV, Canada’s first national television channel in Indigenous languages, is applying to the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission for mandatory inclusion in basic cable packages and is asking the public to sign a petition in support of the change. The proposed alteration recognizes a fundamental human right that is enshrined in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: the right for Indigenous communities to have access to television in their own language. As of January 2023, the petition has 5,140 signatures and continues to grow.

Inuit Art Quarterly

TikTok Accelerator Program Welcomes Six Inuit Content Creators Forty Indigenous content creators engaged in a life-changing opportunity through the TikTok Accelerator for Indigenous Creators in November. Out of the participants chosen, six were Inuit: Angela Aula, Braden Johnston, Inuk Trennert, Willow Allen, Nicole Janis Qavavauq-Bibeau and Julia Ulayok Davis. Developed by the National Screen Institute and TikTok Canada, the program focused on key areas that will empower creators, including community building, analytics, content planning, working with brands, as well as digital well-being and safety best practices.

The IAF Launches Two Innovative Programs in 2023 This January the Inuit Art Foundation unveiled two exciting initiatives for Inuit artists. On January 27, the IAF launched the Kajungiqsaut Grants, a groundbreaking national funding initiative specifically for Inuit artists working across Canada that was co-designed and will be co-delivered with the Canada Council for the Arts (CCA). Three days later, on January 30, the IAF launched the Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal (DQAP), the first-ever Inuit artist–only digital space. Funded with support from the CCA, the web platform was developed in collaboration with Inuit artists for their exclusive use and offers them practice-building opportunities in the form of a searchable grant funding database, networking opportunities, workshops and more. Together, these two unique programs are designed to support artists’ ongoing career development. 74

Last November Jocelyn Piirainen and Taqralik Partridge stepped into new roles at major Canadian cultural institutions. Piirainen was named Associate Curator for the Indigenous Ways and Decolonization department at the National Gallery of Canada (NGC) in Ottawa, ON, and Partridge was appointed Associate Curator of Indigenous Art – Inuit Art Focus at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) in Toronto, ON. In her new role at the AGO, Partridge is developing exhibitions, leading acquisitions and championing new and diverse voices from across the circumpolar North. “My interest is in helping Inuit have access to our heritage in art spaces and in creating opportunities for Inuit artists working today,” said Partridge when asked by the IAQ what her early plans were for the new position. “In exhibitions I always try to create an atmosphere that is welcoming to Inuit, and therefore welcoming to everyone else.” Piirainen’s work at the NGC is centred mostly behind the scenes, helping to bring changes to procedures and policies around NGC’s acquisitions and collections. Piirainen will also assist in upcoming exhibitions, including preparations for the next installment of the international show Àbadakone, which is set for 2025. Piirainen told the IAQ, “I’m looking forward to bringing Inuit perspectives, along with my own personal expertise, to [the NGC’s] collections and exhibitions.”

Want More Inuit Art News? See which Inuit artists broke records at auction this winter

Get all the news, faster at: inuitartfoundation.org/news Spring 2023

Congratulations to the ten outstanding artists on this year’s Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award longlist! Manasie Akpaliapik

Deantha Edmunds

Glenn Gear

Billy Gauthier PHOTO OF BILLY GAUTHIER BY MEGAN STEWART, COURTESY THE NEW HUMANITARIAN. PHOTO OF GLENN GEAR BY LISA GRAVES. ALL OTHER PHOTOS COURTESY THE ARTIST .

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Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona

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Kablusiak

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LAST LOOK

Jessica Winters Heart Strings

Warm light graces a pair of weathered hands offering a symmetrical web of sinew in Jessica Winters’ Heart Strings (2021). The wrists are unadorned, with no sleeves or jewellery to mark their relationship to time. The background is dark and indistinct, swirling with nebulae of rusty warmth and cool aqua. What image will emerge from this tangle remains unknown. A pond of fish? Ten men from a mountain village? A dog running away with the sled as the sleeping driver falls off the back? Patterns formed in string games aren’t simple, static images but more suggestive. They are akin perhaps to constellations; the names we give them allow figures to form in our imaginations out of the abstract collection of loops and knots before us. In Heart Strings, Winters’ infinite, cosmic space cradles the hands much like the night sky holds the stars. Despite the end result being unknown, there is an overall feeling of familiarity when looking at these hands. These are hands that tell stories, that speak to the lines of love and connection between generations and relatives strengthened by ancient games played in close quarters. In this portrait, Winters’ hands deftly hold a lineage of intimacy.

Jessica Winters — Heart Strings 2021 Acrylic 57.1 × 76.2 cm

RACHEL TAYLOR

Assistant Editor

Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023

Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas

A North American Art Collection amplifying diverse voices and creating conversations. Image Credit: Image Credit: Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas, Coppers From the Hood - Flight, 2020, Copper-leafed car hood, paint pigments, 54 x 4 x 26”, Photo by Tobyn Ross, Courtesy of Gallery Jones, TD Bank Corporate Art Collection. Learn more at td.com/art.

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Inuit Art Quarterly

Spring 2023