Inuit Art Quarterly - Exchange: Points of Contact by Inuit Art Quarterly

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CONTENTS

31.4

Inuit Art Quarterly Exchange

Front

Features

Back

04 Contributors

26 Snap! Crackle! Inuit Pop Art!

58 Inuit Art at Expo ’70

LEGACY

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

12 In Perspective HIGHLIGHTS

14 A sneak peek at some

current and upcoming exhibitions and projects. CHOICE

18 Brian Jungen and Kenojuak Ashevak by Yasmin Nurming-Por CHOICE

20 Shuvinai Ashoona by Brad van der Zanden PROFILE

22 Megan Kyak-Monteith by Britt Gallpen

Page 26 From Snoopy to soda pop, this Feature offers a compelling look at how artists explore the intersections of popular culture.

Snoopy, Donald Duck and Batman— these media figures are rarely associated with Inuit life or fine art, yet they, and figures like them, continue to appear across graphic and sculptural works. Offering insights into the emergence of these popular icons, this Feature examines how southern culture permeates life in the North and the sophisticated ways Inuit artists grapple with its increasing presence.

From a lost work of art to an abrupt departure, this piece explores the circumstances surrounding the Canadian Pavilion at Expo ’70 in Osaka, Japan, and the little-known story of the delegation of Inuit carvers who attended.

CURATORIAL NOTES

60 Illirijavut: Our values that are precious

Two curators reflect on the ten-year retrospective of works produced during storybook-making and storytelling workshops held across Nunavik and beyond and the powerful accounts captured in watercolour.

by Cass Gardiner 34 ᓂᐅᕕᕐᕕᒃ: Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy

With the expansion of the Internet across Canada’s North and the advent of social media platforms like Facebook, artists and designers are taking the marketing of their work into their own hands and building digital networks, communities and economies along the way.

by Gabrielle Montpetit 42 Points of Return: A Conversation with Kablusiak and Jesse Tungilik

In the summer of 2018, the TD North South Artist Exchange provided two custom residency opportunities for one artist living in Southern Canada and another living in the North. In this interview, the recipients discuss their respective residencies as well as shared returns to places and bodies of work.

NINGIUKULU TEEVEE MARVELOUS FAN (2017)

by Clayton Windatt 48 Group Effort: Collaborative Works

This Portfolio brings together a unique collection of five collaborative projects produced by Inuit and non-Inuit teams comprised of both established and emerging artists. Including performance, sculpture, ceramic, drawing and printmaking, these works illustrate the manifold ways artists come together.

by John Geoghegan

by Kathryn Delaney with Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk

Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak

REVIEW

Art Gallery of Ontario

by Lisa Myers REVIEW

66 Getting Under Our Skin Art Gallery of Guelph by Emily Jolliffe TRIBUTE

68 Siassie Kenneally Napachie Sharky Ashevak Tunnillie 70 News LAST LOOK

72 Pudloo Samayualie ON THE COVER

Tarralik Duffy (b. 1979 Salliq) — Itii Pau 2018 Digital drawing Dimensions variable COURTESY THE ARTIST

Exchange

Front

January 16 to April 14, 2019

Mary Anne Barkhouse Maryanne Casasanta DaveandJenn Qavavau Manumie Pejvak (Rouzbeh Akhbari + Felix Kalmenson) Naufus Ramírez-Figueroa Ningiukulu Teevee Flora Weistche Li Xinmo

Pejvak (Rouzbeh Akhbari + Felix Kalmenson), Weak Enough to Hear (still), 2018, video. Image courtesy of the artists.

Curated by Lisa Deanne Smith

How to Breathe Forever underlines the importance and interconnectedness of air, animals, coral, humans, insects, land, plants and water. The belief that everything in the universe has a place and deserves equal respect is the core of this exhibition FREE ADMISSION

and positions our relations with others — including

ONSITE GALLERY - 199 Richmond St. W. Toronto, ON, Canada, M5V 0H4

the natural world — as active and reciprocal. The

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artwork invites you to consider a personhood that attentively collaborates and exchanges with all living things.

Kablusiak, artist and curator

Home to the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s largest public collection of contemporary Inuit art. Thousands of artworks, thousands of stories to share.

MASTHEAD

CONTRIBUTORS

PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

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

Executive Director and Publisher Alysa Procida

President Mathew Nuqingaq Iqaluit, NU

Editorial Director Britt Gallpen

Chair Sammy Kudluk Kuujjuaq, QC

Established in 1987, the Inuit Art Foundation is a not-for-profit charitable organization that provides support to Canada’s Inuit arts communities and is the sole national body mandated to promote Inuit artists and art within Canada and internationally. This magazine relies on donations made to the Inuit Art Foundation, a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282). The Inuit Art Foundation gratefully acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through contributions from the Reconciliation Secretariat at Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada and the Department of Canadian Heritage, as well as the Ontario Arts Council, Canada Council for the Arts and Ontario Creates. Subscriptions subscribe@inuitartfoundation.org Canada: $33/yr. Excludes GST/HST. US: $44/yr. Elsewhere: $48/yr. GST/HST #121033724RT0001. The Inuit Art Quarterly is a member of Magazines Canada. Publication date of this issue: December 05, 2018 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

Senior Editor John Geoghegan Managing Editor Evan Pavka Proﬁles Editor Ashley McLellan Copy Editor Simone Wharton Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Design Emily Tu Colour Gas Company Printing Interprovincial Group

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

EDITORIAL ADVISORY COUNCIL

Mary Dailey Desmarais Kim Latreille Samia Madwar Sarah Milroy

— Igloo Tag Coordinator Bryan Winters

Cass Gardiner Cass Gardiner is an Anishinaabe Algonquin writer, curator and filmmaker. Her work centres around ceremony inherent in every day practices, focusing on Indigenous food and craft. She was the 2017 Curatorial Fellow at the Center for Craft, Creativity and Design in Asheville, North Carolina. Her latest exhibition, Forward Facing (2018), was a featured exhibition at the Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival. PAGE 26

Kablusiak Kablusiak is an Inuvialuk artist and curator based in Alberta and holds a BFA from the Alberta College of Art and Design. They recently completed the Indigenous Curatorial Research Practicum at Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. The lighthearted nature of their practice extends gestures of empathy and solidarity; these interests invite a reconsideration of the perceptions of contemporary Indigeneity. PAGE 42

Gabrielle Montpetit

Igloo Tag Facilitator Blandina Makkik

Nunavut Community Liaison Jesse Tungilik

Gabrielle Montpetit is a master’s candidate in Art History at Concordia University in Tiohtià:ké (Montreal), QC. Since 2015, she has worked on developing ethical research guidelines and collaborative curatorial practices for La Guilde. Her thesis research currently focuses on Douglas Cardinal’s work with Circle of Life Thunderbird House in Winnipeg, MB, and the decolonization of architecture and urban planning within Canada’s urban centres. PAGE 34

Nunavik Community Liaison Taqralik Partridge

Jesse Tungilik

Development Manager Christa Ouimet Administrative Assistant Brittany Holliss Fellowship Community Resource Liaison Emma Steen

Jesse Tungilik is an interdisciplinary artist based in Iqaluit, NU. He has worked in many artistic disciplines, starting as a ceramicist at the Matchbox Gallery in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, and later as a jewellery artist at the Aayuraa Studio in Iqaluit, specializing in baleen, muskox horn, ivory and silver. He also works in mixed-media sculpture. PAGE 42

Nunatsiavut Community Liaison Holly Anderson Southern Canada East Community Liaison Darcie Bernhardt Southern Canada West Community Liaison Alberta Rose Williams IAQ Profiles Program Ofﬁcer Naoise Dunne

Clayton Windatt

IAQ Profiles Education Officer Serena Ypelaar

Clayton Windatt is a Métis, non-binary, multiartist with an extensive history working in artist-run culture and community-based arts. As Executive Director of the Aboriginal Curatorial Collective, Windatt works with arts organizations on national and global issues relating to social justice. Windatt also engages in/with community, design, communications, curation, performance, theatre, technology and consulting and is a very active writer, filmmaker and visual-media artist. PAGE 42

Inuit Art Foundation Archives Ofﬁcer Kasey Ball

Winter 2018

FROM THE EDITOR

Turn to page 48 to discover how artists have teamed up to produce a fleet of collaborative drawings, prints, performances and more. Qavavau Manumie (b. 1958 Kinngait) Luke Ramsey — Leaders 2012 Ink 45.7 × 61 cm COURTESY MADRONA GALLERY

Exchange

As soon as we saw Itii Pau (2018) by Tarralik Duffy we knew it was the only choice for the cover of our Exchange issue. Duffy, a multidisciplinary artist and writer (you may recognize her from our last issue for her Feature “Uvanga/ Self: Picturing Our Identity”), works between Salliq (Coral Harbour), NU, and Saskatoon, SK. Capturing both a phonetic pun on the iconic 1982 extraterrestrial as well as a bit of “playground humour” for our Inuktut readers, Itii Pau speaks both to the influence of popular southern culture on the Inuit imagination and to its appropriation by artists into a new visual vocabulary for Inuit on their own terms. From “Pipsi” and canned seal to Barney, the friendly purple dinosaur, the accompanying cover story “Snap! Crackle! Inuit Pop Art!” by Cass Gardiner brings together colourful and humorous pieces from across the North that speak to the power of representation and, particularly, to adaptation and revisioning. These works by Inuit artists skillfully recast and reconfigure icnonic southern characters, recentring them to reflect Inuit values, activities and communities. Similar processes are at work in the digital sphere, as explored by Gabrielle Montpetit in our second Feature “ᓂᐅᕕᕐᕕᒃ: Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy,” which looks to the increasing importance of platforms such as Facebook in the changing scope and rapid growth of a key area of the Inuit art market today. Finally, we look to projects and experiences made possible through travel—from Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, to Banff, AB, to Osaka, Japan, and more—in our Conversation, Portfolio and Legacy pieces that explore the ways artists and their varied audiences come together. In keeping with the spirit of an expanded network of trade, influence and appreciation, for the first time we have handed over our 5 Works article to a selection of celebrated contemporary artists to allow them to share with you those artists who have shaped their own artistic practices and their ways of seeing. The result is a dynamic and personal spotlight on the reach and influence of Inuit

artists. Speaking on the impact of seeing Annie Pootoogook’s coloured pencil drawings as a young artist and the urge to picture her own world, painter Brenda Draney recalls, “Even I had pencil crayons. And, in that small private scale, I might feel brave enough to try.” Finally, as we were heading to press on this issue, our team was saddened to learn of the passing of Josie Pitseolak (1976–2018). A talented, sensitive and observant artist, I had the pleasure of meeting Pitseolak this past June in Iqaluit, NU, and seeing his beautifully detailed line drawings in person. Recently featured in a Choice piece by Janet Brewster, the Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet)based artist will be remembered for his evocative sculptural works and tender, revealing works on paper. On behalf of the Inuit Art Foundation, I would like to extend my deepest condolences to his family and friends and to express our gratitude for the work of an artist who created beauty as a way to connect with others. I hope this issue leaves you with the impulse to share the captivating, vibrant and expansive worlds of Inuit art with others, and we thank you for allowing us to share it with you. We look forward to seeing you again in 2019. Britt Gallpen Editorial Director

Front

THANK YOU

Thank You!

You, the generous donors listed below, ensure the Inuit Art Quarterly is published and that artists throughout Inuit Nunangat are supported and celebrated. Your gifts provide stable funding for artist programs year-round and provide an exciting future for Inuit art. Artists rely on the caring support of donors like you. The Inuit Art Foundation is pleased to recognize those who have donated between September 2017 and September 2018. Thank you so much!

“We are thrilled to see the donor list grow because it means we are connecting artists and their communities with those who love and appreciate the art form. And connecting is what we do. Our donors support us in so many ways and we are ever gratefu. Because of you we are able to flourish.”

JAMIE CAMERON, BOARD MEMBER, INUIT ART FOUNDATION, AND DONOR

Sustainers $5,000+ Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Erik Haites Hugh Hall Patrick Odier John and Joyce Price The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation

$2,500–$4,999 Susan Carter Andrew Chodos David and Liz Macdonald

$1,000–$2,499 The Assaly Family, in honour of their sons René Balcer Marian Dodds, in honour of Dedie Dodds Donald and Pat Dodds Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. David Forrest Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Cape Dorset Inuit Art Society The Michael and Sonja Koerner Charitable Foundation Charles Kingsley Katarina Kupca Christie MacInnes Kathryn Minard Andrew and Valerie Pringle Inuit Art Quarterly

Matthew Bradley-Swan Denise Cargill Concordia University Lynne Eramo Leah Erickson Sophie Dorais Alana Faber Yvonne and David Fleck Alain Fournier Friends of Carol Hordatt Gentles, in honour of Christa Hordatt James M. Harris Ingo Hessel, in honour of Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok Heather Igloliorte and Matthew Brulotte, in memory of Philip Igloliorte Lou Jungheim and Thalia Nicas, in memory of Thomas Webster Joyce Keltie A. Bernhard Kliefoth Christine Lalonde Ann and Michael Lesk Linda Lewis and Lorie Cappe Maija M. Lutz Peter Lyman Patricia McKeown Richard Mohr, in honour of Heather Beecroft Scott Mullin Allan Newell Michael J. Noone Sharon and Lee Oberlander, in honour of David Ruben Piqtoukun

Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart David Sproule, in honour of Jean Katherine Sproule Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley

$500–$999 Jordan Banks, in honour of Paul Desmarais III Shary Boyle Yvonne C. Condell Consignor Canadian Fine Art Arthur Drache, CM, QC and Judy Young Drache Jon and Val Eliassen Patricia Feheley Janice Gonsalves Margaret and Roger Horton Joyce Nies and Peter Witt Joram Piatigorsky Paul Pizzolante Mark Richardson Sanford and Deborah Riley Mark Rittenhouse Leslie Roden-Foreman Ellen Taubman Gail Vanstone Norman Zepp

$250–$499 James Abel, in honour of Xanthipi Abel Paul Alkon Eric Barnum 6

Susan A. Ollila Paula Santrach Celine Saucier Muriel Smith Cedar Swan Elizabeth Steinbrueck Jay and Deborah Thomson Carol Thrun Barbara Turner The Westchester Community Trust, Bell-Jacoby Fund David and Catherine Wilkes and three anonymous donors [1 ]

$100–$249 Amy Adams John and Sylvia Aldrich Lea Algar-Moscoe Diana Antoon, in memory of Saleem J. Antoon Jim Bader Heather Beecroft Christel Bieri Catherine Birt Kaaren Brown Tobi Bruce Peter Camfield Mary Campbell Claudia Christian Carol Cole, in honour of Billy Gauthier Celia Denov Lyyli Elliott Ed Friedman Winter 2018

THANK YOU

BELOW

Annie Taipanak (b. 1931 Qamani’tuaq) — Untitled (Community) 2002 Duffel, felt and embroidery floss 190.5 × 144.8 cm

Denotes a monthly gift Denotes support of the Endowment fund

Denotes support of KAMF Denotes support of the Publications fund

COURTESY EXPANDING INUIT

Sarah Whelchel, in honour of Adventure Canada Scott White Ditte Wolff Mark and Margie Zivin and five anonymous donors [1 ]

Why I Give

“My wife and I have had such pleasure from our Inuit art over the years. As a person who loves the art and is a modest collector, I feel it is our responsibility to support the work of the Inuit Art Foundation and to help burgeoning artists in the North.”

Friends of the Foundation

DAVID SPROULE

Up to $99 Barbara A. Goetzelman Claire S. Gold Peter Gold and Athalie Joy Deborah D. Gordon Peter Goring Tekla Harms Shawn Hassell Janet Heagle Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Carol Heppenstall Dr. Patricia Hinton Dale Horwitz James Igloliorte Robert Jackson Laurence Jacobs Vic Janzen Amy Jenkins Carola Kaegi Johanna Kassenaar Nancy Keppelman Rawlson O’Neil King Jo-Ann R. Kolmes Mary Kostman Ellen Lehman Val K. Lem Joe and Sandra Lintz Dr. Marie A. Loyer Susan Marrier Larry Martinez Mason Studio Elizabeth McKeown G. Lester McKinnon Shannon McManus Valerie Meesschaert-Verheyen Robert Michaud Exchange

Manasiah Akpaliapik Olga and Boris Andriewsky, in honour of Erik Haites

Anne Milochik and Steve Potocny Joanna Mizaga Gary Nelson Donna and Hal Olsen Pierre-François Ouellette Louisa L. O’Reilly Christa Ouimet and Woody Brown Maria Parsons Kate Permut Ann Posen Frank Purcell Leslie Reid Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Marcia Rioux Sheila Romalis Dana and Noel Rufino, in honour of Christa Hordatt Judith Rycus Paul Shackel Mark Shiner Seiko Shirafuji Janet Shute Colleen Suche Charles Tator Roslyn Tunis, in honour of Alysa Procida Anne Vagi Peter Van Brunt Manon Vennat James and Louise Vesper Gord Webster Mary Jo Watson 7

Mary Anglim Eric Anoee Ujarak Appadoo Catherine Badke Susan Baker Elizabeth P. Ball, in honour of Thomas G. Fowler Pat Bavin Roland and Dorothy Beauregard, in honour of Erik Haites Catherine Black Black Dog Publishing Terry Bladholm David Burns Caroline Chan Judy Conning, in honour of Erik Haites François Dumaine Pat English

Front

THANK YOU

Up to $99, cont’d Shirley Finfrock Alexander Ganong Judith Gavin Paul Gemmiti Anne and Steve Georgas Susan C. Griswold Barbara Hale John A. Hanjian Kathryn Hanna Anne Hearn Jacqueline Hynes Mark Igloliorte Angela Jones Sharon Jorgens Robert Kirkpatrick Koula Koliviras, in honour of Christa Hordatt Malcolm Kottler Peter Kovacik Carol Lampert, in honour of Erik Haites

Give the gift that always fits! To learn more about donating on behalf of a friend or loved one visit: inuitartfoundation.org/support/give

Mary Lawrence Breinig Rebecca Lee, in honour of David Lee Louise Logan Laura MacDonald Catherine Madsen Edward Maloney Walter Ian Marquis Alison McDonald Doyleen McMurtry Rowena Moyes Barbara Myslinski Suzanne F. Nash Heinrich Nemetz Susan Newlove Arlene Nichols Dr. Ronald Olin Oswald Family The Pinero Family, in loving memory of Christa Hordatt

Helena Rati, in honour of André Forni Serge Ricchi Mark S. Rieger Robert Rosenbaum Allan Sampson Alexa Samuels Evelyn R. Savitzky Ingrid Eva Schilling Iris Schweiger Linda Simmonds Scenery Slater Gregory Sonek Ann Sprayregen Rosalind Sweeney-McCabe Gray and Margaret Taylor, in honour of Erik Haites Bertha K. Thompson Kitty Thorne Scott G. Travis Darlene Tymn

Anne Van Burek Charles M. Voirin Lowell Waxman Marshall Webb John Weber, in honour of Gina Montevecchi Leslie Saxon West Catherine Wolf-Becker, in honour of Erik Haites Edward Allan Wright Bea Zizlavsky and five anonymous donors [1 ], one in honour of Helen Mary Rapp

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

Bequests

ADDITIONAL 2017–2018 PROGRAM SUPPORT PROVIDED BY:

Virginia Watt Perpetual Trust

PRIMARY SUPPORTER

INUIT ART QUARTERLY AND IAQ PROFILES SUPPORT

IGLOO TAG TRADEMARK PROGRAM SUPPORT

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

FOUNDATION UPDATE

MESSAGE FROM THE BOARD

Reflecting on a Year of Growth PHOTO FEHELEY FINE ARTS

The Inuit Art Foundation – Your Home for Inuit Art Thanks to you—the artists, collectors, curators, dealers, subscribers, donors and enthusiasts who support the Inuit Art Foundation—Inuit artists continue to explore new avenues for professional growth, international exposure and self-expression.

As the Inuit Art Foundation has grown from a single person office to a team of 18 in only a few short years, this season is a time for looking back at the highlights of the year and looking forward to the promises of the next. This year we saw the fruition of the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award and the presenting of the inaugural prize to Iqaluit-based artist Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory at a ceremony at the Art Gallery of Ontario. After working for years to build this fund, it is now wonderful to be able to award this important prize to Inuit artists. Our flagship program, the Inuit Art Quarterly, was nominated for four National Magazine Awards and received silver in One of a Kind Storytelling for “30 Artists to Know,” which appeared in the Fall 2017 issue. Now the second most widely read art magazine in Canada, the IAQ continues to be an incredible success story and we look forward to another exciting year of critical and engaging content. Another highlight was the expansion of the Inuit Art Quarterly Profiles (formerly the Inuit Artist Database), which continues to be the definitive resource for both historic and contemporary Inuit artists working across any media. Finally, the IAF participated in its fourth Art Toronto this October and featured the photographic series inuuvugut by Niap (Nancy Saunders), the recipient of the 2018 Virginia J. Watt Memorial Award. Given the many highlights of the past year, I look forward to sharing an exciting 2019 with you. Thank you for being part of our community, your continued generosity makes all of this possible. On behalf of the Board of Directors of the Inuit Art Foundation, I would like to wish all of our supporters, donors and readers a happy and safe holiday season and the very best for the New Year. Patricia Feheley Board Member, Inuit Art Foundation

Opening spread of “Uvanga/Self: Picturing Our Identity” by Tarralik Duffy from the Fall 2018 issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

FOUNDATION UPDATE

To learn more about what we’re up to, visit us online at: inuitartfoundation.org

Become a Sustainer and help support artists like Tarralik! Supporting Artistic Expression and Voice

Tarralik Duffy is an artist, designer, jeweller and writer from Salliq (Coral Harbour), NU, currently based in Saskatoon, SK. Her Feature story “Uvanga/Self: Picturing Our Identity” on Inuit self-portraiture appeared in the Fall 2018 issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly and she is currently the cover artist for our Winter 2018 issue. Here, Duffy discusses what it means to work with the Inuit Art Foundation as a featured writer and the significance of being a featured artist:

Inuit Art Foundation Sustainers Program

In writing for the Inuit Art Quarterly, it was important for me to do justice to the art and the artists. I was terrified because as much as I admire the artists and their work, I felt I lacked the knowledge I needed in order to write the way I wanted to write. But working with the IAQ team—their willingness to share their incredible knowledge, access to information and gracious approach—totally dispelled my fears. It was such a gift to pick up the phone and have conversations about the people and the art that I absolutely adore. I love Inuit art and Inuit more than anything. This whole process of working with the IAF is the best thing I could have been given because it gave me the opportunity to learn more. Being able to access works of art that I hadn’t seen before was like being given keys to the most magical world—a world that I want to be in, one filled with art history, Inuit history, mythology, legends and humour. It’s this whole beautiful Inuit world that I cannot get enough of. Finding out my work would be not only featured in the magazine, but also on the cover filled me with a combination of maniacal glee and crippling anxiety. I still feel like I’m not at the level of the artists I admire most, so I keep feeling like I’m going to jinx it or the rug will be pulled out from underneath me. I’ve worked on a few versions of the wordplay between E.T. and itii pau, and I always felt a bit ridiculous putting so much time into it, but it still makes me chuckle. It’s our recess humour immortalized. It’s a bit taboo; it’s pop culture. I might get some letters. I might get in trouble with my mom. It’s perfect. Being on the cover is a boost of confidence—it’s like being injected with go-power. Do the thing! Draw! Write! Follow the idea, no matter how seemingly absurd or impossible. – Tarralik Duffy

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$5,000+ · Opportunity to be affiliated with a specific IAF project or program. · Annual luncheon with IAF to discuss new programs and explore new works by Inuit artists. · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $2,500+ · Annual luncheon with IAF to discuss new programs and explore new works by Inuit artists. · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $1,000+ · Opportunities to meet artists at special events and receptions. · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $500+ · A one-year subscription to IAQ. · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $250+ · Invitations to IAQ launches. · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website. $100+ · Acknowledgement in the magazine and on the website.

The Inuit Art Foundation relies on the generosity of donors like you to develop programming to support the work of Inuit artists. The IAF is excited to announce the launch of our Sustainers Program. All donors are recognized in the IAQ and on the website in the following categories:

Front

5 WORKS

In Perspective Leading contemporary Canadian artists share insights on their favourite works

BELOW

Manasiah Akpaliapik (b. 1955 Ikpiarjuk) — Suicide Story Before 1992 Whale bone, horn, teeth, baleen and rifle cartridge 37.4 × 87.4 × 32.2 cm ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO, GIFT OF SAMUEL AND ESTHER SARICK COURTESY THE ARTIST

Manasiah Akpaliapik

Suicide Story (before 1992)

Nancy Pukingrnak Aupaluktuq

Rescued from the Two-Faced Monsters (1978) I found Pukingrnak Aupaluktuq’s drawing Rescued from the Two-Faced Monsters in a book at the Winnipeg Art Gallery called Inuit Myths, Legends and Songs (1982) when I was attending art school. The drawing is only one in a series of these two-faced creatures she invented, which sneak into igloos while people are sleeping and drink their blood. In it, a woman and her husband are surrounded by a crowd of these monsters. I’ve always been drawn to the inventiveness

of the whole composition. There is something in the way she draws—detailed, yet the lines remain very simple—and the way these creatures are represented that produces a strange perspective. It also gives this feeling of intimacy in that you can see each line that she has made. Though it was included in my book Marcel Dzama: Sower of Discord (2013), I have yet to see it in person.

I first encountered Akpaliapik’s Suicide Story at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Carved from a massive whale bone, one side of the sculpture depicts an old man’s face—stubbly beard, puffy cheeks, bushy eyebrows, braided hair, mouth gasping to reveal imperfect teeth, eyes gazing upward, his brow deeply furrowed. He is flanked by ghosts and embryonic figures. The other side depicts two other faces—perhaps elderly women— bracketing a hole in the bone. Their faces are calm but intense, containing the experience of long lives. Inside the hole is a man suspended on a string. He is falling. His face is contorted and his eyes blinded in horror. A rifle bullet pierces his chest. The women serve as witnesses to this moment. Two bear paws grant them the strength needed for their immense task. The overall impression, for me, is of a man trapped by an overwhelming sense of solitude, unaware of figures both ancient and unborn, who are present for him in ways that he does not see. It is a deeply moving work of art. The word “empathy” is suggestive but seems inadequate here. The artwork flows. It slides across different planes of experience. It allows things to appear, which may be invisible during life’s darkest moments. LUIS JACOB

MARCEL DZAMA

ABOVE

Nancy Pukingrnak Aupaluktuq (b. 1940 Qamani’tuaq) — Rescued from the Two-Faced Monsters 1978 Coloured pencil and graphite 56.2 × 76 cm WINNIPEG ART GALLERY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

5 WORKS

Qayait (kayaks) #13 (2003)

Ceramic Bust with Drawings (c. 2012–13)

Walking by the FOFA Gallery vitrines in early August, I was thrilled to see several dioramas of dolls—a rare sight in a contemporary art gallery. Composed mainly of miniature adult humans and their stuff (clothing, tools, tents), the scenes depict Inuit life on the land. It was challenging to choose a favourite but, as a lover of bright colours, I was drawn to Qayait (kayaks) #13, a grouping of five dolls in a semi-circle around what appears to be two tiny drums. Each wears a coat in a basic, vivid crayon shade: yellow, blue, red, black and orange. The attention to details, like embroidery and belts, command respect for Inukpuk’s (1938–2018) skill.

I had the honour of handling and observing this rare collaborative work closely over the past two years, during the Earthlings exhibition and national tour. The base sculpture was hand-built in stoneware by Kurok at the Matchbox Gallery studio in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU. Deftly skilled, Kurok patterned the surface of the clay with small circular depressions, suggesting traditional tattoos that merge into graphic constellations across the face, neck and shoulders. There is something benign yet supernatural in this hairless character, smiling softly, small-eared and broad shouldered. However, it is the alchemy of Kenalogak’s superimposed imagery—her signature densely patterned and brightly coloured style—that vivifies the sculpture. Resident artists working at the Matchbox studio have a history of collaborative ceramics, but drawing on the surface of a sculpture is an innovation. I love how Kenalogak did not cave to the temptation to illustrate the facial features literally, instead, using the whole three-dimensional surface as a single blank page.

Elisapee Inukpuk

Jessie Kenalogak and John Kurok

Bundled as they are, all we can see of the actual doll is the face. Simple features are confidently drawn on with a fine black marker: eyes, eyebrows, two dots for a nose and a slightly smiling mouth. Some of them have fur for hair and a couple have grey hair. I hardly ever see elder dolls! They are so playful, so joyful. I imagine them about to sing a song or burst out laughing. SKAWENNATI

Annie Pootoogook

Dr. Phil (2006) I have been thinking about code-switching lately—the way I am a bit more myself with family. Pootoogook’s (1969–2016) work Dr. Phil seems to reach me there. It was me as a child, watching cartoons with a blanket over the heat register in the winter. It was my new comforter and bare feet. Tiles on the floor splitting the room open for us like a book. The roof at the top of the page. It was a revelation to me that someone would bring that personal space and make it available. It was like being seen. This specificity exists

in her work, and generously invites us in. Personally, as a younger artist, it provided me with an idea that even my unremarkable life and experiences might be worth articulating. And that articulation might be resonant for someone else. With Pootoogook’s work this is made even more available by the materials she used. Even I had pencil crayons. And, in that small private scale, I might feel brave enough to try. BRENDA DRANEY

SHARY BOYLE BELOW

Jessie Kenalogak (b. 1951 Qamani’tuaq) John Kurok (b. 1977 Kangiqliniq) — Ceramic Bust with Drawings c. 2012–13 Painted ceramic 45.7 × 40.6 × 27.9 cm ESKER FOUNDATION

ABOVE

Elisapee Inukpuk (1938–2018 Inukjuak) — Qayait (kayaks) #13 2003 Mixed media Dimensions variable FOFA GALLERY PHOTO GUY L’HEUREUX

RIGHT

Annie Pootoogook (1969–2016 Kinngait) — Dr. Phil 2006 Coloured pencil and ink 101.6 × 127 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS FEHELEY FINE ARTS

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Front

HIGHLIGHTS

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

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

Mark is a series commenting on the endangered state of the natural world of Alaska and beyond. A mark is a visible impression or trace on something, such as a line, cut, dent, stain or bruise. In this series, I consider many different concepts. A mark on the land, or an imposed line, can lead us to discuss climate change, natural resource extraction, loss of culture and identity, Western notions of the desire to collect and commodify, relationships to land, harvesting and subsistence, sovereignty and many other ideas. There are country borders dividing us— lines that Indigenous people have crossed for millennia—but what does this line mean for the inhabitants and animals of these places? – Sonya Kelliher-Combs

OCTOBER 5, 2018—MAY 12, 2019

Aiviq and Nanuq: Sea Horse and Sea Bear of the Arctic Anchorage Museum ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

Aiviq (walrus) and nanuq (polar bear) are perhaps the most ubiquitous creatures in the polar region. Through the lens of these animals, this exhibition at the Anchorage Museum—featuring works by Couzyn van Heuvelen, Nicholas Galanin and more, alongside pieces from the museum’s permanent collection—offers insights into a changing climate and the complex future of the North. We asked three artists included in the show to share a sneak peek of their works: Inuit Art Quarterly

Message is a hand-woven piece made of three short bars, three long bars and three short bars of polar bear guard hair in a Morse code pattern that form an SOS signal. The work is not so much about me, but the polar bear speaking about the issue of climate change and sending out a message. I really wish the piece could travel worldwide but, due to the Marine Mammal Protection Act, our request for a permit for the exhibition was denied. Therefore, because it is such a long piece, the work is being photographed and stitched together digitally to be presented as a single image. As an Indigenous artist and as an Inuk woman, my work is trying to raise awareness for our environment in the Arctic and our lifestyle. There should not be any borders or limits when we are trying to protect rather than exploit our land. – Maureen Gruben

This work is really in your face. It’s large and hard to ignore, which is just like a walrus. If you’ve ever seen one up close, you know that they own the place. They are beyond human scale. This kind of multimedia work is quite labour intensive but satisfying because you don’t have to lie. I don’t have to create shadow and depth because it has its own delimited space that it occupies. For this particular work, I wanted to make it feel like it was really coming out of the water. I think the overall aim of this exhibition is to show reverence and impact, without being overtly political about it. That said, this show will inevitably spark a lot of conversation, and I hope that people will be able to connect the dots without being spoon-fed a narrative. – Alvin Amason

ABOVE (TOP)

ABOVE (BOTTOM LEFT)

Sonya Kelliher-Combs (b. 1969 Anchorage) — Mark, Polar Bear and Walrus 2018 Polar bear fur, fabric, acrylic, polymer and steal 121.9 × 243.8 × 15.2 cm

Maureen Gruben (b. 1963 Tuktoyaktuk) — Message (detail) 2015 Polar bear guard hair, cotton thread and black interface 60.7 × 457.2 cm

COURTESY ANCHORAGE MUSEUM

COURTESY THE ARTIST PHOTO KYRA KORDOSKI

Winter 2018

HIGHLIGHTS

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM RIGHT)

Alvin Amason (b. 1948 Anchorage) — Oh My Heart 2015 Oil, spruce, polystyrene and fabric 230 × 194.3 × 38.1 cm

BELOW (LEFT)

BELOW (RIGHT)

Shuvinai Ashoona (b. 1961 Kinngait) — Creatures 2015 Coloured pencil and ink 96.5 × 127 cm

Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory performing in Kiinalik: These Sharp Tools in Toronto, ON, 2017

COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

JANUARY 30–FEBRUARY 2, 2019 / MARCH 12–16, 2019

Kiinalik: These Sharp Tools PuSh International Performing Arts Festival/ Espace Libre

COURTESY BUDDIES IN BAD TIMES THEATRE PHOTO JEREMY MIMNAGH

COURTESY ANCHORAGE MUSEUM

VANCOUVER, BC / MONTREAL, QC

JANUARY 26–MAY 12, 2019

Shuvinai Ashoona: Mapping Worlds The Power Plant TORONTO, ON

As the first retrospective in a contemporary art institution for Kinngait (Cape Dorset)-based Shuvinai Ashoona, Mapping Worlds, guest curated by Dr. Nancy Campbell, features a broad selection of work made by the prolific artist over the last twenty years. Sourced from public and private collections, this major exhibition is slated to travel to the Leonard and Bina Ellen Art Gallery in Montreal, QC, the Glenbow Museum in Calgary, AB and the Vancouver Art Gallery in British Columbia, among others, after its inaugural opening at The Power Plant in Toronto, ON. We caught up with Director Gaëtane Verna to understand what it means to step into Ashoona’s world:

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What I want people to take from the exhibition is the diversity present in Ashoona’s work and her openness to the world. Within her singular practice, there are so many realms that come to play. She produces expansive drawings where images of globes coexist with animals, sea creatures and humans with otherworldy, alien-like creatures mixed in—all different and unique perspectives on her environment. She also has these moments where she is representing the globe from different perspectives and mapping the landscape. This is really her ability to translate that landscape: the poetry of it and the subtly of it. The message she conveys can be very serious, but is also often comical. It is not a scary world she is presenting, but the earth and all of its facets. – Gaëtane Verna

The award-winning Kiinalik: These Sharp Tools hits the road this winter with stops in Iqaluit, NU, Vancouver, BC, and Montreal, QC. Conceived by Iqaluit-based uaajeerneq (Greenlandic mask dance) and performance artist Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory and Toronto-based theatre-maker Evalyn Parry, who met as artists-in-residence on an environmental education expedition from Nunavut to Greenland in 2012, the performance carefully weaves together bodies, territories, climates and histories. Here, Williamson Bathory discusses the site-specific show that is more concert than play: Evalyn and I realized we had a lot of storytelling we had to do. We offered each other deep and long-running conversations. Over the years, it has developed into what is now Kiinalik: These Sharp Tools. The show is not really a “play” in the standard sense; we treat each of the sections of the performance as a set-list, as if we are giving both a concert and a conversation that co-exist. There are aspects of the performance that are done by the audience and that are about conversation with the audience. Each place we perform will have different questions and sparks for conversations in which people can participate. We are always going to be site-specific. In so many instances Inuit have had our history told by other people. What I’ve learned—in the telling of my own history, my parents and my siblings—is this intimacy allows people to understand a greater political picture. To have the stories of your own blood coursing into a political discussion is powerful. Hence, Kiinalik is really an extension of our true selves. We are not taking on different characters to become somebody else on stage. It’s us. – Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory

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HIGHLIGHTS

BELOW (LEFT)

BELOW (MIDDLE)

BELOW (RIGHT)

Henri Matisse’s lithograph Esquimau (c. 1947) from Georges Duthuit’s Une Fête en Cimmérie (1963)

Central Alaskan Yup’ik dance mask representing the Moon Woman (c. 1870)

Sheouak Petaulassie pouring water from a kettle into a mug in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, 1962

COURTESY HEARD MUSEUM

COURTESY HEARD MUSEUM PHOTO CRAIG SMITH

ONGOING

COURTESY LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA PHOTO ROSEMARY GILLIAT EATON

We Are Here, Sharing Stories Library and Archives Canada OTTAWA, ON

The 2017 federal budget included funding for initiatives that would help preserve and make accessible documents, photos and recordings held by Library and Archives Canada (LAC) and other collections. This has included documents from Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC) and the Rosemary Gilliat Eaton fonds. We spoke to artist Heather Campbell, who has been working as an archivist on the project, to learn about what the holdings have revealed.

OCTOBER 29, 2018–FEBRUARY 3, 2019

Yua: Henri Matisse and the Inner Arctic Spirit Heard Museum PHOENIX, ARIZONA

In the final decade of his life, alongside famous paper cut-outs and designs for the Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence, celebrated French artist Henri Matisse was commissioned by his son-in-law Georges Duthuit to illustrate a book on Arctic peoples. The invitation to produce three drawings resulted in over 50 works based on Duthuit’s collection of Yup’ik masks. A new exhibition at the Heard Museum, co-curated by Sean Mooney and Yup’ik elder Chuna McIntyre, brings together Matisse’s work alongside the once separated objects to examine the surprising points of contact between these two distinct histories. Below, Mooney reflects on the importance of reuniting these masks and their relationship to the canonical figure: This exhibition builds on the work I’ve been doing over the years on Yup’ik masks from Alaska, specifically in trying to restore the tradition of the mated pairs and groups. When these pieces were collected at the end of the nineteenth century, they were scattered around to different museums and Inuit Art Quarterly

collections. They were immediately separated from their context as masks that were performed in groups and pairs as part of the structure of the dance. I’ve been slowly trying to reunite these pairs in exhibitions and projects like this. We’re going to be seeing a lot of Yup’ik material that belonged to Duthuit, which Matisse would have seen when he was asked to do these drawings. We know Matisse was familiar with this work and there is documented correspondence between him and his daughter Marguerite Duthuit about seeing the masks and his response to them. Matisse’s drawing process was such that he started with a portrait-like image and then reworked the drawing many times until it got to a point where they were so simplified that he referred to them as masks. Ultimately, this became an opportunity to present almost two exhibitions at once: one about the Matisse material and the other about the Yup’ik masks. And to create a point of contact between them. – Sean Mooney 16

As an Inuk artist and former curator, this has been a dream project for me. My favourite part has been going through the old CEAC (Canadian Eskimo Arts Council) files that go back to the 1950s and are very informative about the marketing of Inuit art from between then and the 1980s. The CEAC was in charge of deciding if prints were “fit” for distribution, and I found a document that outlined the requirements for print selection. I also found a report from the first conference in which Labrador Inuit artists were invited to participate, which, as an artist from Nunatsiavut, was personally very exciting. Our team has also digitized more photos from the Rosemary Gilliat Eaton fonds. Gilliat Eaton was a photographer who travelled North in the early 1960s and took photos of artists in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, and other communities. We have found photos of artists like Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013) and Sheouak Petaulassie (1923–1961) that haven’t been made available before and will continue to post the new material we discover. – Heather Campbell

Winter 2018

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CHOICE

Brian Jungen and Kenojuak Ashevak Kenojuak #1 and Preening Owl

by Yasmin Nurming-Por

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

CHOICE

The deconstructed footwear, trimmed in crimson and blue, bend and loop to form the graphic, teardrop-like plumage common in many of Ashevak’s renderings of Arctic birds.

Born in Fort St. John, BC—the near North—in 1970, artist Brian Jungen rose to prominence in late 1990s with a series of works titled Prototypes for New Understanding (1998–2005) that repurposed Nike Air Jordans into sculptures resembling Northwest Coast Indigenous masks. These early works were instigated by visits Jungen paid to the American Museum of Natural History and the Nike store in New York City as a young artist, where he recognized the similarities between the display of commercial commodities and the ethnographic installations of First Nations cultures and objects in museum spaces. Since then, Jungen has established himself as a skilled seer of the potential for reconfiguration in everyday objects from an Indigenous perspective. Similar to the artist’s early Prototypes series, the sculpture Kenojuak #1 (2016) is composed of reassembled Nike Air Jordans and is displayed on a tall plinth. This work, however, strays from his previous use of coastal masks and, instead, references the preeminent Inuit artist Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013), widely known for her prints and drawings. Kenojuak #1 begins with a flat bottom of red-rubber soles that soon erupts into a series of curvilinear bands and shoe tongues that share tonal and

formal similarities to many works by the Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artist. The deconstructed footwear, trimmed in crimson and blue, bend and loop to form the graphic, teardrop-like plumage common in many of Ashevak’s renderings of Arctic birds, such as the 1995 print Preening Owl—released as part of the Annual Cape Dorset Print Collection three years prior to the beginning of Jungen’s sculptural series Prototypes. Interestingly, Kenojuak #1 (2016) offers a less immediate reading of Indigenous motifs than Prototypes, requiring viewers to look closer. From behind, the assembled materials swirl in a composition that is not quite the mirror of the other side—a twist on the bilateral symmetry in the compositions of many of Ashevak’s print. For me, Jungen’s positioning of a set of circular eyes located at a proportional height to numerous Ashevak owl works, provided the visual anchor for revealing the plumage reference. As a young artist, Jungen largely created drawings but made a marked shift towards sculpture after 1998. He would later return to working in two dimensions in 2011 when he created Five Year Universe—a series of hide prints on black foam, his first foray into printmaking—motivated by an interest in trading prints with other Indigenous artists. In Kenojuak #1, Jungen creates space and

acknowledges the importance of Ashevak’s influence on his internationally recognized contemporary art practice—a realm from which Inuit artists have often been excluded. Her presence is often more subtle than in this direct reference. It is merely suggested in the accompanying sculpture Owl Drugs (2016), which shares striking formal similarities to Kenojuak #1 and nodds to Ashevak’s proclivity for owls. To me, it remains interesting that Jungen would choose this specific form of sculpture to commemorate Ashevak, three years after her death. “I got interested in printmaking largely out of the Inuit tradition,” Jungen has said, noting the particular emphasis on symmetrical compositions that attempt to reconcile how to present both sides of a subject in a two-dimensional space. Provided Jungen’s penchant for working in series, frequent return to materials and the numbered title of this piece, perhaps these works will continue to grow. — Yasmin Nurming-Por is a curator and writer who currently holds the position of Curatorial Research Assistant, Modern and Contemporary Art at the Art Gallery of Ontario.

OPPOSITE

Brian Jungen — Kenojuak #1 2016 Nike Air Jordans and brass 44.5 × 64.8 × 34.3 cm COURTESY CASEY KAPLAN PHOTO JEAN VONG

RIGHT

Kenojuak Ashevak (1927–2013 Kinngait) — Preening Owl 1995 Stonecut 50.7 × 66 cm © DORSET FINE ARTS

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CHOICE

Shuvinai Ashoona Guitar

by Brad van der Zanden

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

CHOICE

The artwork on each of Ashoona’s instruments is original and greatly varied, ranging from graffiti-like designs and worlds on one, to the vibrant, almost rainbow effect of the drawings on another.

Shuvinai Ashoona (b. 1961 Kinngait) — Guitar 2013 Acrylic 99 × 33 × 5 cm

A guitar player since age six, I have long admired musical instruments, for their inherent beauty, as well as the time-honoured tradition of adorning them with artwork. Some of my favourite guitar players, like Jimmy Page and Bill Frisell, perform on legendary art covered instruments. In working with acclaimed artists from Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, on the “Guitar Project,” I have had the privilege of merging my two passions: visual art and music. When I began working at Feheley Fine Arts in 2006, I was introduced to the incredible outpouring of creative contemporary drawing that was developing in the North, even travelling to Kinngait in 2014. Throughout my time with the gallery, I established many wonderful and lasting friendships with artists, including Tim Pitsiulak (1967–2016), Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, Jutai Toonoo (1959–2015) and Qavavau Manumie, all of whom have artworks on at least one guitar. Together, with the help and support of Studio Manager William Ritchie, the West Baffin Eskimo Co-operative and Dorset Fine Arts, we embarked on a collaborative project to create a limited series of high-quality musical instruments adorned with images by these exceptional artists. The first step involved assembling blank, white guitar bodies to send to the North. The artists were encouraged to draw at liberty on each piece as they saw fit. The guitar body presented a new surface that was completely novel to the artists in the studio. The artwork was then returned to me in Toronto, ON, where I began the process of turning them into finished musical instruments. It takes several months to complete the entire process for each instrument, but the end results have been well worth the wait. Kevin Hearn of Barenaked Ladies was crucial in helping get the project off the ground by encouraging the creation of the very first instruments. He has since toured and played extensively with his unique guitars

by Shuvinai Ashoona. While in Kinngait, Hearn, Toonoo and I formed a band called The Walrus Lips. Although we had only one practice, it was epic! The artwork on each of Ashoona’s instruments is original and greatly varied, ranging from graffiti-like designs and worlds on one, to the vibrant, almost rainbow effect of the drawings on another. With its waves of resonating colour, the artwork is less narrative than her typical drawings and more of a pure design. The syllabic texts translate in English as “Guitar,” “They are my nice guitars,” “It would be good to play the guitar together” and so on. Ashoona has produced artwork for eight instruments, the most by any one artist. Each is unique and beautiful. With the help of my band, we video recorded a few short pieces of music in order to show Ashoona her work in action. She requested two particular songs: “Hanky Panky” by Tommy James and the Shondells and “Maggie May” by Rod Stewart. To date we have produced some nineteen instruments—including fourteen electric guitars, two bass guitars and three ukuleles. All have been shown at art fairs and exhibitions from Iqaluit, NU, to Toronto and are now held in private and corporate collections. This guitar, made in 2013, was acquired for the BMO Corporate Art Collection in 2015 and is installed at their head office. I am fortunate in my current role as Senior Associate Curator of BMO Financial Group’s Corporate Art Collection to be able to visit this particular guitar on a daily basis. It is beautifully displayed in our main gallery area as part of the permanent collection. My respect, gratitude and admiration goes out to these artists and the studio in Kinngait. — Brad van der Zanden is the Senior Associate Curator of BMO Financial Group’s Corporate Art Collection.

COURTESY BMO FINANCIAL GROUP

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PROFILE

Megan Kyak-Monteith

Megan Kyak-Monteith (b. 1997 Halifax) — Whale Hunt 2018 Oil 91.4 × 182.9 cm ALL IMAGES COURTESY THE ARTIST

by Britt Gallpen

Kyak-Monteith, a Halifaxbased painter, builds rich, textural and evocative scenes through a collagelike technique that merges personal memories with those of others.

Inuit Art Quarterly

A massive midnight-blue whale sinks into wet sand. Its creamy pink interior slumps forward, revealed by small figures that carefully peel back incised panels of blubber. Atop the whale, a man in a brown coat lifts up a square of flesh—it makes me think of metal flashing or oversized roofing tiles. The crowds, gathered above and below, work quickly, while beyond them three small children play at the shoreline. It is hard to fathom the magnitude of this creature and the smallness of these people, to fully comprehend this Gulliver of a whale amongst these Lilliputian figures. “The whale is a lot bigger than it would have been in real life,” explains artist Megan Kyak-Monteith. “I sized it up.”¹ Kyak-Monteith, a Halifax-based painter, builds the rich, textural and evocative scenes visible in works such as Whale Hunt (2018) through a collage-like technique that merges personal memories with those of others, familial storytelling and additional image-based references. The process begins with the selection and writing of a memory before 22

an intensive research phase that includes gathering information and imagery, after which Kyak-Monteith creates a photographic collage. This montage is then used as the basis for a series of sketches that guide the final painted image. “A lot of it is imagination,” explains the artist. “I don’t want it to be a painting of a photograph. It’s many photographs made to look like a memory.” Returning to the gargantuan whale, she explains its exaggerated size. “That’s how it felt when I first saw it. So when someone else sees this painting, they get that same feeling.” This impulse to share a feeling permeates Kyak-Monteith’s work. Pooling in the deep folds of shadowed skin in Nude (2017) or emanating from the polar light cast onto exterior windows and walls in Kids in Play Paradise (2018), Kyak-Monteith’s paintings are arresting in their stillness and magnetic in their pull. Despite their creation as composite scenes pulled from numerous visual and non-visual sources, these dreamy, sometimes surreal images Winter 2018

PROFILE

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Kids in Play Paradise 2018 Oil 103.6 × 152.4 cm BELOW

Nude 2017 Oil 121.9 × 91.4 cm

capture the North as a deeply personal site that refuses easy categorization. “I don’t want [my work] to be exclusively understood by people in northern communities,” says Kyak-Monteith. “For me, this is the ordinary kind of stuff, small things, like those houses or the whale. For someone who hasn’t seen a whale before, it’s like once you see it in the painting, I guess, then you can kind of imagine it.” A fourth-year visual arts student at NSCAD University, Kyak-Monteith is poised for an exciting year ahead. Already she has secured gallery representation with Raven Art Gallery in Ridgeway, ON, and has plans to co-curate her first exhibition with fellow NSCAD artist Darcie Bernhardt. Beyond this, Kyak-Monteith is keen to pursue a residency abroad following her graduation in April 2019. “It could be interesting to experience art somewhere other than Atlantic Canada or the North,” says the artist. Regardless of the where, the what seems to be perfectly clear. “I want to [create works that] blend not just my memories but those of other people,” explains Kyak-Monteith. “I am thinking of also painting my grandma’s stories. She would tell me stories all the time and I would record them. I did a painting of one of them and it was so funny. It’s very sweet and difficult and fun trying to paint something from someone else’s memory or experiences. So I want to try doing [more of] that.” NOTE ¹ All quotes from Megan Kyak-Monteith taken from a telephone conversation with Ashley McLellan June 26, 2018.

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Tim Pitsiulak - Nuvu - 31.50 x 50 inches - Coloured Pencil and Ink

606 VIEW STREET VICTORIA, B.C. V8W 1J4 - 250 383 4660 - WWW.MADRONAGALLERY.COM

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

NEW ADDRESS: 1444 Sherbrooke Street West Montreal H3G 1K4

www.elcalondon.com | info@elcalondon.com | 514-282-1173 Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

Ooloosie Saila

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

Winter 2019

Artwork: Artist Unknown, COMPOSITION (SEDNA TRANSFORMATION)

Guilde - Iuit Art Quarterly-V2.indd 1

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SNAP! CRACKLE! INUIT POP ART! â&#x20AC;&#x201D; by Cass Gardiner

PREVIOUS SPREAD

Tarralik Duffy (b. 1979 Salliq) — Inuit Pop Art 2015 Digital drawing Dimensions variable COURTESY THE ARTIST

BELOW

Qavavau Manumie (b. 1958 Kinngait) — Donald Duck c. 2010 Coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY MARION SCOTT GALLERY

Inuit Art Quarterly

During the 1950s, the Pop art movement emerged as a response to the saturation of consumerist imagery across mainstream media. Today, these forces still play a role in shaping the culture of North America, including its northern most points. In this Feature, a filmmaker, curator and writer explores the emergence of popular icons—from Batman to Barney—in contemporary works from Inuvialuit Settlement Region, Nunavut and beyond to reveal the sophisticated, humorous ways Inuit artists negotiate, import and adapt the increasing presence of southern culture.

Winter 2018

Abe Ukuqtunnuaq (b. 1944 Talurjuaq) — Inuk Batman c. 2002 Stone 25.4 × 10.2 × 7.6 cm COURTESY ARCTIC CO-OPERATIVES LIMITED

Four large birds in profile. A seal and a walrus facing off. Strange bird-like humans with comically elongated noses alongside railway cars and tracks, creating a five-pointed swirling entity. A miniature northern village, overlooking the ocean and framed in the centre. All of these elements are expected in the bold, dynamic and flattened compositions of graphic artist Qavavau Manumie, who faithfully recreates landscapes, tools and buildings of the North alongside more fantastical imagery of people, hybrid animals and birds. Yet, pan up slightly and you will find Donald Duck, captured in a threequarter profile, staring back at you. Upon further inspection, the Walt Disney character’s three nephews—Huey, Dewey and Louie— float within tiny thought bubbles around their uncle’s head. This aptly titled drawing, Donald Duck (c. 2010), raises the question: What are these four anamorphic white ducks dressed in sailor uniforms doing here? Unlike fellow Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artists Kananginak Pootoogook, RCA (1935–2010) or Itee Pootoogook (1951–2014), who captured the changing material culture of their community, Manumie is not a documentarian. There is a deeper desire to engage and explore the contemporary forces shaping Inuit culture. Like it or not, our daily lives are inescapably filled with products, ads and media made for our consumption. These objects have not only permeated our culture, but have become markers of it, to sometimes positive, but more often questionable, results. While Inuit have a rich history and tradition to draw upon, they do not inhabit a vacuum, oblivious to what is happening thousands of miles away. The expansion of telecommunications across Inuit Nunangat has compressed the once great geographical expanses between communities. Now, a child in Kinngait can watch Duck Tales on TV, the same as children in Vancouver and Halifax. Artists like Manumie are using icons of Western popular culture as a bridge to explore the points of intersection and negotiation that exist daily for Inuit living in present-day Canada. If southern popular culture permeates everyday life across the circumpolar North, why shouldn’t Donald Duck appear in Inuit art? Emerging from the mass consumerism of the mid-twentieth century, Pop art attempted to democratize the art world, while turning a critical eye toward popular culture. Seeking to create art that could be immediately understood by the masses, artists created a visual lexicon using images imported directly from television,

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movies, cartoons, comics, advertisements, brand name products and other media. Together, these works highlighted the tension in mainstream media’s collapse of elite and quotidian social spheres. When applied to today’s contemporary Inuit art, it illustrates a collision of two different cultures, similar to the negotiations between traditional Inuit life and the increasing presence of southern culture through television, comics and branded commodities. Through imagery, iconography, popular tropes and wit, Inuit pop art illustrates the sophisticated ways that Inuit life simultaneously partakes in and rejects southern culture—collapsing the divide between the two. The work by these artists conveys the refusal to blindly accept the mass media of the South as well as the complex negations that exist in the importing and exporting of culture. While carvings of walruses, polar bears, inuksuit (human-made stone landmarks) and shamans occupy ample space in the popular imagination of Inuit art, both past and present, contemporary artists challenge these preconceived notions concerning Inuit life and art by inversely appropriating Western popular culture through timehonoured Inuit materials and art forms.1 Talurjuaq (Taloyoak)-based Abe Ukuqtunnuaq’s Inuk Batman (c. 2002) employs traditional stone carving to reimagine the iconic DC Comics caped-crusader Batman if he were Inuit, instead of the wealthy philanthropist Bruce Wayne. Ukuqtunnuaq has faithfully represented Batman and his trademark mask in stone. However, it comes with a few stylistic choices that make this piece more than a mere copy of the comic book hero. Ukuqtunnuaq has carved a pronounced lip that points downward and his eyes are etched in a minimal representation. The body is suggested by an amorphous shape, which highlights the natural properties of the stone—a common strategy employed in carving. Here, Batman is not simply Batman but an Inuit Batman— a Batman that is part of the same culture and traditions and shares the same physical characteristics of the people he protects—illustrating that Inuit Nunangat is far from a cultural void. Ukuqtunnuaq is not the only one to notice the connection between Inuit culture and the fictitious world of heroic defenders. This spring the Marvel Universe unveiled their newest member of The Champions, Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung)-based Inuit teen Amka Aliyak, known by her superhero name Snowguard. Her contemporary amauti (woman’s parka) and traditional tattoos illustrate the

Snap! Crackle! Inuit Pop Art!

importation of Inuit culture into the Marvel Universe, in addition to her particular superpowers, imbued with the Inuit spirit and life force Sila, who grants her shape-shifting abilities. A focus on hybridity, morality and suspended belief in reality are all hallmarks of the superhero genre as well as Inuit traditional storytelling. Perhaps then Bruce Wayne’s transformation into Batman can be seen through the lens of a shamanic transformation, which results in a hybrid condition akin to Ukuqtunnuaq’s creation. Here, pop culture permeates but does not completely overtake the Inuit way of life. This point is echoed in Ruth Annaqtuusi Tulurialik’s Barney Visits a Winter Camp (c. 1994), a busy coloured-pencil drawing illustrating a typical winter camp. The scene is filled with adults and children, all in their parkas and rain boots, fishing, hunting and dancing, as various birds, an owl and the sun watch on. In the middle of the crowd, and much larger in scale, is a smiling Barney, the friendly

Inuit Art Quarterly

purple Tyrannosaurus Rex from the popular American children’s TV program. Tulurialik has consciously imported the character, placing Barney into a scene of traditional Inuit life, being led by a small, mitten-clad child into the heart of the camp. Instead of attempting to fit her Inuit cast into the playground that Barney inhabits, Tulurialik transposes Barney. While she keeps the dinosaur’s signature purple and green colours, the artist also stays true to her unique graphic style by bestowing the character with a slimmer physique and rounder, yellow eyes that lie more centrally on his face. Similarly, Floyd Kuptana’s Untitled (Snoopy on an Igloo) (2016), a collaboration with artist Eron Boyd, shows another popular American icon viewed through a distinctly Inuit lens. Gestural strokes of yellow, green and various shades of purple and blue give depth to the evening atmosphere that highlights the igloo where Snoopy, the classic Peanuts comic character, is lying. Kuptana has made pains

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Ruth Annaqtuusi Tulurialik (b. 1934 Qamani’tuaq) — Barney Visits a Winter Camp c. 1994 Coloured pencil 56 × 76.1 cm

to depict Snoopy lying in the exact same way that he is famously pictured in the comics—on top of his red doghouse—replacing the wooden structure with its northern equivalent. He has also interpreted the cartoon character in a wholly unique fashion: Snoopy is rendered with rather short ears sticking out of his head as opposed to his signature drooping, black teardrop forms and his eye has been coloured green and exaggerated in size to directly confront the viewer. For both Tulurialik and Kuptana, placing these beloved cartoon characters in an Inuit context illustrates the pliability of fictional characters, as they seem to be as much at home in a winter camp or seated atop an igloo as they would in their own playground or doghouse. This calls into question the importance of place within these cultural markers for southern audiences, while providing an opportunity for Inuit to see themselves reflected in the media they consume on a daily basis. This also leads us to question the inspiration behind these cartoons, as talking animals have been a part of Inuit oral history, as well as Indigenous oral tradition more broadly, for centuries and predate Snoopy (1950) and Barney (1987). Barney finds himself situated in a scene where the sun has eyes and birds are equal in size to humans, so the only uncanny element is the fact that he comes from a Western children’s TV program. The cross-cultural exercise required to make sense of this image mirrors the complicated dance that Inuit continue to carry out as they navigate between the two cultures in which they partake daily. By representing popular goods in addition to media figures, Inuit artists reveal how they have embraced aspects of North American culture into their lives, on their own terms. Though most known for her flat-plane drawings of everyday scenes, animals and mythological figures plucked straight from traditional Inuit stories, Kinngaitbased Ningiukulu Teevee humorously depicts a raven casually kicking off its rubber boots in You Know You’re Inuk When (2016). One boot remains on, with a thin yellow band peaking out the top, and the other is just about to hit the ground, revealing the bird has lined its boots with the trademark yellow plastic bags from the Canadian retail store Home Hardware. The quotidian scene of the raven— revered for its ability to adapt and survive in the Arctic winters while other birds have flown south—relays the pragmatic culture of the North, where nothing is wasted, even plastic bags. Branded objects gathered from chain stores are inserted, integrated and adapted due to their usefulness in supporting Inuit culture and not the other way around. The effectiveness of Pop art’s reliance on consumerist imagery— from Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans (1962) to Roy Lichtenstein’s

COURTESY ART GALLERY OF GUELPH

Floyd Kuptana (b. 1964 Cape Parry) Eron Boyd — Untitled (Snoopy on an Igloo) 2016 Acrylic with collage 30.5 × 40.6 cm COURTESY GALLERY ARCTURUS

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Snap! Crackle! Inuit Pop Art!

Whether importing southern media and goods or exporting their own into mainstream Canada, Inuit artists are conscientiously participating in a culture that is still not completely theirs. —

Drowning Girl (1963)—was its capacity to build upon an assumed, shared visual language and vocabulary across North America. In comparison, Inuit find themselves able to access the culture of Canada, without completely identifying with or partaking in it. Salliq (Coal Harbour)-born, Saskatoon-based artist Tarralik Duffy explores this shared language by using traditional food as a way to express how Inuit have borrowed from southern consumerism to reimagine and literally re-package it. Her article “Caribou Head Soup for the Soul,” penned for the June 2016 issue of Up Here magazine, describes the importance of not only traditional foods, but also the ceremony surrounding its preparation and sharing, which strengthens familial and community bonds. Borrowing the title from the book series Chicken Soup for the Soul and the collection of inspirational stories within, Duffy’s wry word play combines traditional Inuit knowledge exchanges with the prevalence of contemporary media platforms. In the drawing Cow of the Sea (2015), she simultaneously plays on the well-known tuna brand Chicken of the Sea, the Canadian government’s experimentation with canned marine mammals and the infamous scene from MTV’s reality series Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica (2003–5) where Jessica Simpson mindlessly questions if the same brand was chicken or fish. Duffy has reimagined the canned fish with an Inuit staple: seal. She has taken care to recreate even the tiniest details from the branded can: the little red heart in the top corner, a symbol for the presence of healthy omega-3 fatty acids; the gold ribbon on the bottom of the can, proudly pronouncing that the seal is the “solid red” variety; and below that, in smaller letters, it lets the consumer know that it is “seal in fat” (a play on “tuna in

Ningiukulu Teevee (b. 1963 Kinngait) — You Know You’re Inuk When 2016 Coloured pencil and ink 58.4 × 76.2 cm COURTESY MADRONA GALLERY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

Tarralik Duffy (b. 1979 Salliq) — Cow of the Sea 2015 Digital drawing Dimensions variable COURTESY THE ARTIST

As evidenced by these works, Inuit culture is not passively water”). The last bit of comedic genius comes from replacing the ingesting Western media. It is in many ways an active and Chicken of the Sea mermaid with a tiny grey seal, a few black spots contributing member of North American popular culture. Whether dotted down its back, a small smile beneath its black whiskers importing southern media and goods or exporting their own into and the trademark mermaid’s gold scepter nestled between its front mainstream Canada, Inuit artists are conscientiously participating flippers. The success in her faithful representation of these small details of the Chicken of the Sea brand lies in its ubiquity within North in a culture that is still not completely theirs. It can be unsettling to find this popular imagery in Inuit art, due to the aesthetics American homes. Whether consciously or not, each of us has a imposed on it by southern audiences and largely predicated on a vague recollection of the can’s appearance, and Duffy’s small symbols dated, colonial idea of what life in the North is like and what is worth trigger this memory, while speaking to a shared collective culture reflecting. Yet, numerous devices, like talking, humanoid animals as well as a distinctly Inuit experience. and shape-shifting, otherworldly beings, borrowed from mainstream While the same brand of canned tuna may appear in homes media, appear easily translatable into the realm of Inuit legend, throughout the country, its use, centrality and importance to Inuit which is at times just as fantastic as a superhero like Batman or a is drastically different than the average non-Indigenous Canadian. talking Tyrannosaurus Rex. In another article, “Don’t Cry over Spilled Beads,” Duffy describes With markers not traditionally associated with Inuit life, or her grandmother’s house as filled with “goose, walrus, seal or caribou fine art for that matter, Inuit pop art collapses the perceived divide stewed on the stove. . . . Mustard pickles to go with stewed seal, between northern and southern culture. Therefore, Snoopy can Heinz 57 to go with boiled maataq [whale blubber and skin], soya appear on television in Toronto, ON, and also atop an igloo in sauce to go with frozen Arctic char. The little signs of colliding Paulatuk, NT. More commercial elements of popular culture, such cultures and colonialism all around us.” As food security is a central as food, clothing and branded commodities, like tuna fish or shopping issue in northern communities, brand name foods that are easily bags, can be implemented only when it benefits the community on manufactured and distributed are often widely available in Inuit a practical level. “A person can only put into his art what he has seen communities. Duffy reveals how her family has adapted and utilized or heard,” Simon Tookoome (1934–2010) once remarked. “I want you these southern condiments alongside other pantry items to make to know that the Inuit culture is not threatened when we incorporate them part of their kitchen to accompany abundant, local traditional modern experiences into our work and when we try new things.” foods. The presence of these condiments in the pantry are testaments It is this pragmatic way of life that has allowed Inuit to adapt and to the adaptability of Inuit culture, always willing to embrace survive—an innate cultural characteristic told through art. something new to enhance longstanding traditions. It is, then, interesting to consider the significance of the seal meat inside a tin can in Duffy’s work—negating the need for the NOTES laying down of cardboard on the ground and the gathering of women 1 Inuit have a long and unique relationship with the proximity of the arts with their uluit (women’s knives) to prepare the meat. The tin can and consumerism. From first contact with fur trappers and traders in the eliminates the treasured ceremony yet offers immediacy and 1500s, who wanted stone carvings to take home as souvenirs, to the 1950s convenience. As an Inuit extension of the Pop art movement, the when Inuit art was seen as a money-making endeavor for galleries in the image is filled with irony and humour. Yet, it is up to the viewer South, Inuit artists have always been aware that their work was consumed by to decipher the complexities within it and those subtle signs of a non-Inuit audience and hence adjusted it accordingly. See Ingo Hessel, colliding cultures. Inuit Art: An Introduction (Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre, 2002), 13–27.

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Snap! Crackle! Inuit Pop Art!

by Gabrielle Montpetit â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

ᓂᐅᕕᕐᕕᒃ: Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy

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ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑐᖅ ᒋᐳᕆᐊᓪ ᒪᓐᐱᑎᑦ

As a virtual environment where users can create, occupy space, buy property and even control access, the Internet offers important opportunities for Inuit artists to build communities, create networks of exchange and extend their voices and images beyond their physical communities. Perhaps most crucially, however, the Internet has changed how Inuit are asserting their agency over the marketing of their work to qallunaat (non-Inuit) and facilitating new markets to sell to one another. —

Model Annie Aningmiuq wearing earrings and necklace by InukChic ALL IMAGES COURTESY THE DESIGNERS’ FACEBOOK PAGES PHOTO TRACEY LYNNE

Inuit Art Quarterly

In the early to mid-1990s, two significant events occurred almost simultaneously: Inuit demanded the creation of a new territory within Canada (Nunavut) and the Internet began slowly reaching the Arctic. In 1995 the Nunavut Implementation Commission (NIC), tasked with establishing the new government and territory of Nunavut from 1993 to 1999, concluded that access to computer networks and the Internet would be crucial in order to bridge the distances between its dispersed population, form a united Nunavut and create jobs, all while preserving and promoting Inuit culture. The Internet is helping to improve the quality of life in Inuit Nunangat. It connects individuals across northern communities as well as those in the South and is increasingly helpful to the growth of local businesses and entrepreneurship.1 This is partially achieved through the accessibility of free social media services such as Facebook—advantageous for its ease of use and ability to load in very low bandwidth environments. What new opportunities and challenges could this digital space, beyond pre-existing distribution systems, present for Inuit artists and designers who sell their work directly to consumers? As an outgrowth of existing infrastructure and longstanding community-based sales practices, mainly offering items or soliciting interested buyers over community radio, Facebook is facilitating additional opportunities for networking and exchange and as a result is directly impacting the economics of the Inuit art market. “Artists are able to fetch higher prices for their work when selling to a large network than when they were restricted to the geographically local network of buyers,” argues statistician and researcher Hannes Edinger in the 2017 Impact of the Inuit Arts Economy study, facilitated by Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada.2 For the first time, this study helped to quantify the scope of these intercommunity sales, which are a significant but under-acknowledged component of the Inuit arts economy. Buy/sell groups and independent artist pages—with functions that include the ability to message sellers directly—are increasingly effective sales platforms that create a directto-consumer distribution channel, which has not existed before in the Inuit art market. Many artists, particularly designers and jewellers, are using Facebook to market and sell their works. InukChic is an art and design company run by Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet)-raised, Ottawa-based Martha Kyak. With over 5,000 followers on Facebook, Kyak primarily engages with social media to reach her clients. “Facebook is a great tool for marketing and promoting Inuit designs,” she explains, “[and it] is a very useful way to reach people all around the world, especially [an audience of] circumpolar Inuit from Alaska to Greenland. It somehow gets us connected.”3 Through professionally shot photographs of Inuit women wearing her glamorous creations, Kyak centres Inuit within a global fashion discourse. As Kyak argues, featuring “Inuit [and other] Indigenous models paints a picture [of] how beautiful Indigenous [peoples] are, and when they wear my designs it portrays how much we are capable of in the fashion industry. We have many talented Inuit seamstresses with beautiful designs. Social media shows us how much there is out there.” Similar to InukChic, Ugly Fish is a Saskatoon-based fashion brand founded by Salliq (Coral Harbour)-born Tarralik Duffy who has gained recognition for jewellery made from harvested or found animal materials. Ugly Fish designs, which also include clothing with Inuktut syllabic and Pop art inspired prints, are displayed online through photographs of models—on the runway, at home and even in the Arctic landscape, as well as individual portraits on white pelts. Duffy also shares additional content including videos of her bone-cleaning process, which she describes as, “where the magic is, when you take something that is rotting and turn it into something beautiful.” This varied marketing strategy demonstrates the creative liberties that social media affords. Facebook is not only limited to facilitating online sales. The platform provides visibility, which can lead to other opportunities. “Posts have legs and they will take your work to places you may never go, or think of going,” Duffy says about a 2014 Facebook post that garnered attention from the Nunavut Arts and Crafts Association.

ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᑕᖁᖅᑯᑎᓲᖅ ᐋᓂ ᐊᓐᓂᕐᒥᐅᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᖅ ᓯᐅᑎᕈᑏᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᔭᒥᒃ ᒫᑕ ᖃᔮᖅ ᐃᓄᒃ ᓯᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖅ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒃᑐᓂᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᖓᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐊᖓ ᑐᓚᐃᓯ ᓕᓐ

Winter 2018

InukChic runway presentation at the Indigenous Women’s Leadership Summit in Ottawa, ON, 2018

ᐱᒋᐊᓕᓵᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ 1990, ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᓛᑦ ᓴᕿᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᑦᓯᒃᑯᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ: ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑕᐅᖁᔨᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓄᑖᒥᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓᓂᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ (ᓄᓇᕗᑦ) ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᓕᕆᕕᒃ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 1995 ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ ᐊᑐᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓄᑦ ᑲᑎᒪᔨᖏᓐᓂᑦ, ᐱᔭᒃᓴᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓗᑎᒃ ᓄᑖᒥᒃ ᒐᕙᒪᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᕗᒥᑦ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 1993ᒥᑦ-1999ᒧᑦ, ᖃᐅᔨᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᑐᓴᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᖓᓯᒌᒃᑲᓗᐊᕋᒥᒃ ᐊᕙᑖᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑐᑦ, ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑲᑎᑦᑎᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔮᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂᓗ ᐊᓯᐅᔾᔭᐃᑦᓯᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓕᕐᑎᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᐅᓯᕚᓪᓕᕐᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᒥᓂ. ᑲᑎᑎᑦᑎᕗᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᓇᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑯᐊ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᑦᑎᓂᖓ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓄᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖁᑎᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥᒃ.1—ᐅᓇ ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᑭᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᐃᓅᓯᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑐᓴᐅᑎᓕᕆᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᑦ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᖓᒍᑦ - ᐊᑑᑎᖃᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᑲᐅᒋᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᑦ ᐅᐊᔭᑭᑦᑑᒐᓗᐊᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᖓᑦᑕᕈᑎᒃᓴᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᕙᑎᒥᖕᓂ. ᑭᓲ ᓄᑖᑦ ᐱᕕᖃᕐᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᑎᑦᑎᕙ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ ᖃᖓᑦᑕᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ, ᐅᖓᑖᓄ ᓴᕿᓯᒪᕙᒌᖅᑐᓄᑦ, ᑐᓂᓯᓯᒪᕚ ᐃᓄᖕᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᕙᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓᑲᐅᑎᒋ ᐱᔪᒪᔪᓄ? ᑐᖓᕕᒃᑕᖄᓂᒃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓂᐅᕈᑎᖃᕐᓂᖅ ᑐᔫᓯᖃᕐᓂᖅ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂᑦ ᓈᓚᐅᑎᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᕇᕕᖓᒍᑦ ᐊᖁᑕᐅᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᐅᑕᐅᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᑕᐅᓱᐊᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᕐᒥᓪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᖃᖅᐳᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑕᐅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᐃᓱᒪᓂ ᐱᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᓚᐅᖏᓚᖅ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐅᖓᓯᖕᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. “ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᕗᑦ ᐃᓄᒋᐊᖕᓂᖅᓴᒧᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᓯᒐᒥᒃ, ᑕᐃᓱᒪᓂᒥᑦ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᑎᑐᐊᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᖁᖅᑯᑎᔪᓐᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ,” ᐅᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓈᓴᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑲᒪᔨ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᑎ ᕼᐃᓐᔅ ᐃᑎᖕᒍ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2017 ᐊᒃᑐᖅᑕᐅᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓕᑕᐅᓇᓱᒃᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᓕᕆᔨᑐᖃᒃᑯᓂᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ.2 ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᒃ, ᐅᓇ ᐃᓕᑕᐅᓇᓱᒃᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᓄᖅᓯᒋᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᓅᑎᒋᓂᖓᑕ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓗᐊᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᖓᑦ ᑕᒪᑐᒧᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᖃᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ/ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᓚᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᒪᒃᐱᒐᖓ - ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᕕᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᓴᕐᑎᑦᑎᓗᑎᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᒃᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᕐᖐᓐᓇᖅ - ᐊᖕᖏᒡᓕᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᔪᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕕᓯᕆᓂᕐᒥ ᐃᓂᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᑲᐅᑎᒋᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᖁᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᑕᖃᖅᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓂᕐᕈᑎᖃᕋᓱᒡᖢᓂ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔨᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᑭᓕᕋᐅᑎᓪᓗ ᓯᐅᑎᕈᑎᓪᓗ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᖃᑎᒌᒡᕕᐅᔪᓂ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕐᕕᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ. ᐃᓄᒃᓯᒃ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᔨᐅᔪᑦ ᑲᒻᐸᓂ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᒥᑦᑎᒪᑕᓕᖕᒥ-ᐱᕈᖅᓴᔪᖅ, ᐋᑐᕚᒥ ᐃᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᒫᑕ ᖃᔮᖅ. ᒪᓕᒃᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐅᖓᑖᓂ 5,000 ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᖃᕐᕕᖓᓂ, ᖃᔮᖅ ᒫᓐᓇ ᐱᓕᕆᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᓄᑖᓂᒃ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᖃᓘᓯᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᕙᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᒥᓂᒃ. “ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᖓ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᕐᕈᑎᑦᑎᐊᕙᐅᔪᖅ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓕᕐᑎᐊᖅᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ,” ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᓐᓇ, “[ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ] ᐊᑑᑎᖃᖅᑐᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᒃ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓂᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᓴᕐᑎᓐᓂᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓇᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᒥ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ [ᑕᑯᔪᒪᔪᑦ] ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᔾᔨᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᓛᔅᑲᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑯᑭᑦᑐᓂᑦ. ᖃᓄᑭᐊᖅ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖓᑦᓯᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᕙᒃᑐᑦ”3 ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᕐᔪᐊᑎᑐᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᐋᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ, ᖃᔮᖅ ᐊᐅᓪᓗᑎᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᒥ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. ᖃᔮᖅ ᐊᐃᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ “ᐃᓄᐃᑦ [ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ] ᓄᓇᖅᑲᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ [ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ] ᖃᓄᖅ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ [ᐃᓄᐃᑦ] ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᖕᒪᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᓕᕌᖓᑕ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᒥᖕᓂ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᕙᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᕐᓂᒃ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᖢᑕ. ᐊᒥᓲᔪᑦ

ᐃᓄᒃ ᓯᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑕᖏᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᓯᕗᓕᐅᖅᑏᑦ ᑲᑎᒪᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐋᑐᕚᒥ, 2018 ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐊᖓ ᑐᓚᐃᓯ ᓕᓐ

PHOTO TRACEY LYNNE

ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃᒥᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑐᑦ, ᐃᓂᖃᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ, ᐃᒡᑖᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒡᓛᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔪᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑭᒃᑯᒃ ᖃᕆᑕᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓯᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᐱᕕᖃᕐᑎᑦᑎᕗᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᕗᖅ, ᐃᑲᔪᖃᑎᒌᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐅᖅᓰᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐱᖃᖃᑕᐅᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑎᒍᑦ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ ᐅᐸᒍᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑕᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓄᑦ. ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓛᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐅᓇ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃ ᐊᓯᑦᔩᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᓕᕆᓂᕐᑎᒍᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᒃᐱᕆᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕐᕕᒋᔭᑎᒃ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᖕᓂ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᑭᒡᓕᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᖅ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᓂᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ. — Exchange

Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy

BELOW

RIGHT

Baleen earrings designed and made by Ugly Fish —

Necklace with beluga vertebrae pendant designed and made by Ugly Fish —

ᐊᕐᕕᒃ ᓯᐅᑎᕈᑏᒃ ᐊᑏᓇ ᑕᕐᕋᓕᒃ ᐊᒡᓕ ᕕᔅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ

ᐅᔭᒥᒃ ᕿᓚᓗᒐᐅᑉ ᕿᒥᕐᓗᐊ ᓴᕕᕋᔭᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᑏᓇ ᑕᕐᕋᓕᒃ ᐊᒡᓕ ᕕᔅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ

Facebook also allows artists and designers to celebrate traditional materials and their uses, such as Iqaluit-based Nicole Camphaug’s company ENB Artisan, which features footwear modified with harvested materials such as sealskin and caribou antler. Since posting her first pair of sealskin-clad heels to Facebook in 2015 and participating in the 2016–17 touring exhibition Floe Edge: Contemporary Art and Collaborations from Nunavut, Camphaug has expanded to offer a range of flats, pumps, stilettos, boots, men’s dress shoes and more. She also makes jewellery inspired by traditional Inuit motifs using materials like nanuq (polar bear) claws and aiviq (walrus) tusk ivory. Products are usually photographed without models, putting emphasis on craftsmanship and the innovative use of traditional materials. By infusing the images of contemporary expressions of Inuit culture into the network that is Facebook, Camphaug is democratizing the traditional knowledge she is inspired by, while also making it part of popular culture. “I think it is very important to get sealskin out there and mainstream again,” she says. “I want people to be able to see it in a new light and see that it’s important.”4 In light of the ongoing controversy surrounding the restrictions on sealskin, Camphaug is one of many artists pushing against misinformation by revealing how the material is integral to Inuit culture and an important aspect of their values. Though artists have found success with their individual Facebook pages, many take advantage of community-based sell/swap groups early on in their careers to better establish themselves. In these groups, artists can post items for sale and either agree to swap with a community member or sell to the highest bidder: artists set a minimum bid as well as the increments in which bids must increase and through comments interested buyers bid up the price like at an auction. Though primarily comprised of community members, large sell/swap groups such as Iqaluit Auction Bids include members from across the world. In this way, artists who are unable or unwilling to invest in maintaining their own page can reach a broader audience.

This spotlight eventually led to the inaugural display of Ugly Fish, where she encountered Iqaluit, NU, artists Mathew Nuqingaq, CM and Dan Wade. “Both artists have always been very encouraging [and] supportive. . . . They have never shied away from helping me when I need it.” Besides giving artists the ability to network amongst themselves and navigate new marketing streams, Facebook facilitates the creation of communities, through which an appreciation for Inuit culture is shared. Original Killer Apparel (OKA) and Tanya Innaarulik Designs (TI), a clothing brand and accessory company respectively, run by Kuujjuaq-born, Montreal-based Tanya Innaarulik, produce limited edition pieces celebrating Inuit material and visual culture. From earrings inspired by kamiik (boots) and uluit (women’s knives) to shirts, dresses and leggings with kakiniit (tattoos) prints, OKA offers a wide array of innovative and vibrant designs. “To keep things unique and limited edition, we do not make many of one item. This way your OKA piece is always unique and special!” Innaarulik explains on her page. Facebook allows Innaarulik to sell both one-of-a-kind items as well as clothing produced in batch quantities through a direct line of communication with her customers, while also building a distinct community through her buyer base. The community members that support OKA post when they receive their orders and display pictures of themselves with their OKA products. “Perfect fit thank you,” one user writes. “I got a very beautiful hoodie with your design as a Christmas present from my mom,” shares another. Musician Kelly Amaujaq Fraser also posted a selfie wearing OKA Sedna earrings, expressing her admiration for Innaarulik’s designs. “I love my new TI Designs Sedna earrings from Original Killer Apparel, designed by Tanya Innaarulik,” Fraser writes. “Order yours now!!” Such networks create space for sharing and appreciating Inuit culture online that is broadly visible and public, while also providing a transparent window into the trustworthiness of businesses such as OKA.

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓯᐊᒻᒥᕈᑎᑦ ᑲᒥᖕᖑᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓗᖑᐊᑦ ᐅᕕᓂᕈᕐᓄᑦ, ᐊᖏᔪᖅᑕᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓕᖅᓯᑯᑖᓄᑦ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᖃᑭᓐᓃᑦ, ᐆᑲ ᑐᓂᓯᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᖃᓄᕆᑦᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃ ᓄᑖᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᓕᖅᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᔫᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᖅᖢᒋᑦ. “ᐊᔾᔨᖑᓐᖏᑑᓂᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒥᓲᓕᖅᑎᓯᒪᓐᖏᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓐᖏᑦᑐᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᓲᓈᖅᑎᓪᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᖅ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐆᑲ ᐱᖁᑎᖏ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑑᖏᓐᓇᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒻᒥᒎᖅᓯᒪᓗᑎᒃ!” ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᖕᒥᓂᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᖢᓂ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᔪᖏᑎᑦᑎᕗᖅ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᓈᑦ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᐃᔾᔪᑎᒋᕚ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒋᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓂᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑐᑦ ᐆᑲᐅᑉ ᓴᕿᑎᑉᐸᒃᑕᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑐᒃᓯᕋᕐᕕᐅᔭᕌᖓᒥ ᑎᑭᓴᐃᕕᐅᕕᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᕕᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐆᑲ ᐱᖁᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ. “ᓈᒻᒪᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᖁᔭᓐᓇᒦᒃ,” ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᑕᒡᕗᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. “ᑎᑭᕕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᒥ ᓇᓴᖃᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐅᕕᓂᕈᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᒡᕕᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᓯᐊᕆᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᓈᓇᓐᓂᑦ,” ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᓕᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᖓᑦ. ᐃᖕᖏᖅᑎ ᑲᓕ ᐊᒪᐅᔭᖅ ᕗᓚᐃᓱ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᕐᒥᓂᒡᖢ ᐃᓪᓕᕆᓯᒪᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᓂ ᐆᑲ ᓯᑦᓇ ᓯᐅᒻᒥᒑᖕᓂᒃ, ᐱᐅᒃᓴᖅᑐᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᕋᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖓ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ. “ᐱᐅᒋᔭᒃᑲ ᐊᒃᓱᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᒃ ᓄᑖᖅ ᓯᑦᓇᖑᐊᖅ ᓯᐅᒻᒥᐅᑏᒃ, ᐱᑖᕆᔭᒃᑲ ᐅᓕᔨᓄ ᑭᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᓐᓂᑦ, ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᑖᓐᔭ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ,” ᕗᓚᐃᓱ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᖢᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ. “ᑎᑭᓴᐃᓕᕆᑦᓯ ᒫᓐᓇ!!” ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓂᖃᕐᑎᑦᑎᕗᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᓕᒫᓂᑦ, ᑐᓂᓯᓯᒪᕕᐅᒍᓐᓇᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᕿᔮᑦᑎᐊᕐᕕᐅᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᑦᑎᐊᕙᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖁᑎᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐆᑲ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᑏᑦ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓪᓗ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒍᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᒥᖕᓂᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᕈᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑑᓯᖏᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂ-ᓄᓇᓕᒃ ᓂᑰ ᑳᒻᕼᐊᐅᒃ ᑲᒻᐸᓂᖓ ENB ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑲᒦᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᓂ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᓲᕐᓗ ᕿᓯᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᒃᑐᐃᑦ ᓇᒡᔪᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᖓᓂᑦ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓚᐅᕋᒥ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒃᐱᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᑲᒥᓕᐊᒥᓂᒃ ᕿᓯᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᑭᖕᒥᑯᑖᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᑯᖓ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᐅᔪᒧᑦ 2015ᒥ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᐅᓕᖅᖢᓂ 2016-17 ᐳᓚᕋᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓯᓈᖓ: ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒌᒍᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᑦ, ᑳᒻᕼᐊᐅᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᒡᓕᒋᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᑐᓂᓯᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᓪᓗᓂ ᑭᖕᒥᑯᑖᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ, ᐳᖅᑐᔪᓂᒃ, ᑭᖕᒥᑯᑖᓕᖕᓂᒃ, ᑲᒫᓗᖕᓂᒃ, ᐊᖑᑎᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᕆᒃᓴᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᒥᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃᑕᐅᖅ. ᐅᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓯᐅᒻᒥᕈᑎᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᒥᑭᓕᕋᐅᑎᓂᒡᓗ ᓴᕿᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓇᓄᐃᑦ ᑯᑭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᕕᖅ ᑑᒑᖏᑦ. ᐱᖁᑎᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ, ᓴᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᑖᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᓕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᓱᕈᖅᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᖢᓂ. ᓴᕿᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᐅᖃᕈᓯᐅᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᑕᒪᑐᒨᓇ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒍᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ, ᑲᒻᕼᐊᐅᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᑎᑕᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪ.ᑐᖃᖓ ᐱᐅᒋᒐᒥᐅᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᑐᕈᒪᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᒍ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᐅᓕᖅᑐᓄᑦ. “ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᕿᓰᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᑕᐅᕙᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓄᓕᒫᖅ.”4 ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑲᔪᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᑭᕋᖅᑑᑕᐅᖏᓐᓇᕐᒪᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᒪᔪᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᒐᓱᐊᕐᓂᕐᓗ ᓇᑦᑎᐅᑉ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ, ᑲᒻᕼᐊᐅᒃ ᐅᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᑦ ᐊᔭᐅᕆᔪᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᓂᕐᓗᒃᑕᐅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖁᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᑕᔫᖕᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᑕᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᑦᓯᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓇᓂᓯᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᖁᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑎᑦᑎᒐᒥᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᖃᕐᕕᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂ-ᐋᕿᒃᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᔾᔪᑎᑦ/ ᑕᐅᖅᓰᕕᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐋᕿᐅᑎᑦᓯᐊᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒍᑕᐅᔪᓂ, ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᒃᓴᕆᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖕᖏᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐅᖅᓰᖃᑎᒋᒍᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᐊᑭᑐᓛᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑭᓖᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᓄᑦ: ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᕈᑎᖃᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᑭᒃᑭᓈᖅᑎᓚᐅᖅᖢᒍ ᐊᑭᑦᑐᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓗᓂ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᒡᕙᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᓕᐅᑕᐅᔪᒪᔪᑦ ᐅᓄᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᒐᓱᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ

ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑏᑦ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᓂᒃ. ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᐅᓄᖅᑑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᑕᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᓇᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ.” ᑖᑉᓱᑐᓇᖅ ᐃᓄᒃᓯᒃ, ᐊᒡᓕ ᕕᔅ ᐅᓇ ᓵᔅᑲᑑᓐ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐅᖅᐸᒃᑐᖅ ᓇᓂᓯᒪᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᓴᓪᓕᓂᑦ ᐃᓅᓂᑯ ᑕᕋᓕᒃ ᑕᕕ ᐅᓇᓗ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᓯᐅᒻᒥᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᒥᑭᓕᕋᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓇᓂᔭᒥᓂᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᖔᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐊᒡᓂ ᕕᔅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᔪᓂ - ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᖕᖏᕋᒥᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓇᒃᑯᖑᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᕐᓂᒃ. ᑕᕕ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᐅᓯᐊᕆᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓗᒻᒪᖅᓴᐃᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᓇᓗᓴ ᑕᐃᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, ᐅᓇ ᐊᖕᖓᑰᔭᕐᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᐱᒍᒥᑦ ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᒥᒃ ᐃᒍᓇᓕᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑎᓪᓗᒍ.” ᐅᓇ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᐋᕿᒃᓯᒪᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᓂᐊᕋᒥ ᓴᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂ ᓇᑭᖕᖓᕐᒪᖔᑕ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑎᑕᐅᔾᔪᑎᖓ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒡᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑖᓐᓇᑑᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᑭᒡᓕᑎᕈᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐅᓇ ᐃᓂᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᐊᕐᑎᑦᑎᕙᖕᒪᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓯᒪᓕᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᕕᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᕕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ. “ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᓱᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓂᐅᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐸᒍᑎᑦᑎᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᓇᒧᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐅᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᔭᓐᖏᑕᕐᓄᑦ, ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐅᐸᒍᒪᔭᕐᓄᑦ,” ᑕᕕ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 2014 ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒃᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᔨᓕᐊᓂ ᐃᓕᓯᒪᔭᓂ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᒪᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᓴᓇᓐᖑᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᖃᑎᒌᖏᑦ. ᑕᐃᓐᓇ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᒡᓕ ᕕᔅ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᒥᐅᑕᕐᒥᒃ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ, ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᒫᑎᐅ ᓄᕿᖓᖅ, CM ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᓐ ᒍᐃᑦ. “ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᐊᔭᐅᕆᑦᓯᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ [ᐊᒻᒪᓗ] ᐃᑲᔪᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ... ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑕᐅᒍᒪᔭᕌᖓᒪ ᐃᕿᐊᓱᒍᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᖃᖓᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᖃᕌᖓᒪ.” ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᕋᓗᐊᕋᒥᒃ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᑖᓄᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᕕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ, ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᕕᒃ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᑭᒡᓕᑎᕆᓯᒪᖕᒥᔪᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᐊᑐᕈᒪᑦᓯᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᓴᕈᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᐅᓕᔨᓄ ᑭᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ (ᐆᑲ), ᐊᓐᓄᕌᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑐᖅ ᑲᒻᐸᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᖓ ᑰᒡᔪᐊᒥ-ᐃᓅᓂᑯ, ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒦᑦᑐᖅ ᑖᓐᔭ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ, ᓴᓇᕙᒃᑐᖅ ᐅᓄᖅᑑᓕᖅᑕᐅᑎᓯᒪᒐᓂᒋᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᖔᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᕿᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕆᔭᑎᒃ.

Harp sealskin and patent leather pumps by ENB Artisan

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ᖃᐃᕈᓕᐅᑉ ᕿᓯᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᓯᔭᒃ ᑭᖕᒥᑯᑖᒃ ENB ᓴᓇᔭᖏᒃ

Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy

The various strategies afforded by Facebook are empowering Inuit artists by providing them with opportunities to celebrate their cultural practices and role within the Inuit art market. —

increases a post’s visibility and is a variable dimension in the marketing scheme for Facebook-run businesses that also increasingly requires paid advertising in order to reach viewers. “With Facebook, you are expected to always be available and you get graded on it,” Duffy adds. “If you are a quick responder, you get a little badge. I am a one-woman operation and that can be challenging when you need to wear different hats, like public relations one day and sanitizing beluga spines the next.” Copyright infringements are also difficult to track and people have tried to take advantage of this by creating fraudulent posts on Facebook to receive money from consumers without actually having real products to sell. This poses a threat to the networks that Inuit artists have created. As of yet, there been no initiatives from Facebook to prevent this problem. Despite the expansion of this Facebook economy, high-speed, accessible Internet in the North remains limited and costly to this day. Many communities rely, instead, on expanding cellular 3G networks for Internet access. However, current initiatives such as the high-speed broadband satellite network Tamarmik Nunaliit (every community), launched by Northwestel in October 2018, aims to increase Internet access. Nevertheless, Inuit artists occupying space on Facebook are creating networks of Indigenous knowledge, taking charge of their own representation and contributing to a shift in the global perspective of their art, while also increasing their economic opportunities, all through self-directed means.

The various strategies afforded by Facebook are empowering Inuit artists by providing them with opportunities to celebrate their cultural practices and role within the Inuit art market, while also expanding their reach and connection to others across Inuit Nunangat and the South. As Edinger continues in his study, “direct-to-consumer sales (primarily online) are of increasing importance in all regions . . . [with] artists earn[ing] $22.1 million net of their expenses through direct-to-consumer sales.” This includes online sales as well as those sold at fairs and directly in communities, both to visitors and other community members. However, this emerging Facebook economy has not supplanted or infringed on sales through the co-op system. While neither system is without its advantages and disadvantages, the importance here is that Facebook offers other options for Inuit NOTES artists for whom it is more advantageous to sell their work themselves, 1 Erin Yunes, “The Art of Connectivity: Broadband and Nunavut’s Cultural Sector,” directly to buyers without restrictions. Inuit Art Quarterly 28, no. 2 (Summer 2015): 38–41. Yet, there are still challenges for Inuit selling their work online. 2 Hannes Edinger, Impact of the Inuit Arts Economy (Terrace: Big River Analytics, Prices for work can vary widely, dependant on consumer interest, 2017), 10. demand for particular products and more variables, as in any market, 3 All quotes from Martha Kyak and Tarralik Duffy, unless otherwise noted, are taken from correspondence with the author on September 17 and October 6, 2018. such as shipping and overhead costs. When selling works to the 4 Rachel Levy-McLaughlin, “See how an Inuit designer combines fashion co-op, the wholesale market absorbs these risks. Further, Facebook’s and tradition using sealskin,” Canadian Geographic, May 20, 2017, algorithms largely determine what is shown, and more importantly, https://www.canadiangeographic.ca/article/see-how-inuit-designer-combinesto whom. The quantity or frequency of likes, clicks and shares fashion-and-tradition-using-sealskin.

Ringed sealskin stilettos by ENB Artisan — ᓇᑦᑎᐅᑉ ᕿᓯᖓ ᑭᖕᒥᑯᑖᒃ ENB ᓴᓇᔭᖏᒃ

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

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BOTTOM

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᓴᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᑦᑐᖅᑎᐸᒃᑕᖏᑦ. Earrings produced Floral infinity scarf ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓᑐᐊᖑᕋᓗᐊᕋᒥᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒥᖕᓄᑦ, by Tanya Innaarulik with uluit designed by Designs Original Killer Apparel ᐅᓄᖅᓯᔪᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒃᓴᑦ/ᑕᐅᖅᓰᔭᒃᓴᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒃᕕᐅᔪᓂ — — ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒃᓴᑦ ᐊᑭᑐᓛᒥᒃ ᐊᑭᓖᔪᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᑕᐃᓐᓇ ᓯᐅᑎᕈᑏᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑖᓐᔭ ᓄᓇᕋᙳᐊᓕᒃ ᓇᓴᕈᕚᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᓇᑭᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᒥ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒍᓂ, ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᓕᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᓗᖑᐊᓕᒃ ᐅᓕᔨᓄ ᑭᓗ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᒡᕕᖕᒥᒎᕋᒪᓐᖏᒃᑯᑎᒃ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓯᒪᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖁᑎᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖓ ᐱᔪᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃᑯᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓯᒪᔾᔪᑎᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒃᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᒃᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᒪᓕᖅᐳᑦ ᐱᕕᖃᕐᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒍᑎᒋᓗᒋᓪᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓂᒋᔭᑎᒃ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᓂᕐᒥ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐅᖓᕙᕆᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓇᑭᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓐᑎᒍ ᑲᔪᓯᕚ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓐᓇᓱᐊᖅᑕᓂ, “ᓴᓇᔪᓂᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᖢᑎᒃ (ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᐃᓐᓇᒃᑯᑦ) ᐅᓄᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖓ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂ... [ᑖᒃᑯᐊᓗ] ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑎ[ᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ] $22.1 ᒥᓕᐊᓐ ᑲᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑭᓕᖅᑑᑎᒋᒐᔭᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᓂᐅᕕᑲᐅᑎᒋᔪᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᔪᓂᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖅ.” ᐅᓇ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᕕᐅᔪᓂ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖁᑎᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓐᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂᑲᐅᑎᒋ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐳᓛᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒥᖕᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᕿᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒃᑎᑦᑎᓂᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓇᖐᓇᓱᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓵᓚᒋᓇᓱᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᑯᐊᐸᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊᒃᓗ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᓐᖏᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖓᓂ ᑕᒡᕙ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒍᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐊᔪᖏᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᑐᑎᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓᑦᓴᐅᑎᒋ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᖃᖅᐳᑦ ᒪᓕᒐᖅᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᖅᑎᑕᐅᒐᑎᒃ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦᑕᐅᖅ, ᓱᓕ ᑕᐃᒪ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕋᓱᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ. ᐊᑭᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ, ᒪᓕᒃᑐᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐱᔪᒪᔪᖃᓕᕌᖓᒥ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᔪᒪᓕᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᓇᓪᓕᐊᖕᓂᒃ ᐱᖁᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑑᑎᓂᒃ, ᑕᐃᒫᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓯᕆᕙᒃᑐᓂ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᖃᖓᑦᑕᐅᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᑭᓕᐅᑎᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓂᖓᓄᑦ. ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕋᓱᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᑯᐊᐸᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ, ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᑦᓯᐊᑲᐅᑎᒋᕗᖅ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᖅᑐᑰᕈᑎᒐᔭᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕋᑎᒃ. ᓱᓕ, ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᕕᒃᑎᒍᑦ ᖃᕆᑕᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓗᐊᖏᓕᐅᕆᔪᓂᒃ ᐋᕿᒃᓲᑕᐅᕗᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒥᒍᑐᐊᖅ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᓂᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᕗᖅ, ᑭᓇᒧᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᓂᖓ. ᖃᓅᑎᒋᓂᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑯᓚᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᓂᖅ, ᓴᕿᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓯᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓱᑲᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᑦ ᐅᓄᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᖓᑦᑕᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᒧᑦ ᐊᑕᔪᑦ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ, ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓕᕈᓐᓇᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᖃᐅᓕᑎᑦᑎᓐᖏᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑕᐅᓇᓱᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᓄᐊᔅᕕᔅᑎᐅ ᐅᒃᑑᐸ 2018, ᑐᕌᕆᔭᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᒃᑲᒃᑎᒋᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒍᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ-ᐃᖏᕐᕋᑎᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖃᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᖏᑦ. ᓱᓕᑦᑕᐅᖅ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐅᓄᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᓕᕆᐊᓕᑦ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑕᐅᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐃᓂᖓ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᔨᕕᐅᔪᒥ ᐋᕿᒃᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᐊᕐᒪᑦ ᐅᓄᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᖅᑲᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔾᔪᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓇᒦᓂᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᓂ. “ᑖᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᒍᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ, ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑑᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᖑᓯᒪᔫᓕᕐᒪᑦ ᓂᕆᐅᒋᔭᐅᕗᑎᑦ ᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᖏᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᓗᑎᑦ ᑭᐅᓯᖃᐅᑎᒋᕙᒡᓗᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᒥ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᖢᑎᑦ ᐱᑦᑎᐊᓕᖕᒪᖔᕐᐱᑦ,” ᑕᕕ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ. ᐱᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐅᓄᖅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓪᓗ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕐᕕᒋᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ “ᑭᐅᓯᖃᑦᑕᕈᕕᑦ ᐃᕐᖐᓐᓇᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑯᑕᖅᑖᖅᖢᑎᑦ ᒥᑭᔪᒥᒃ. ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᐃᓅᑐᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᒐᒪ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑐᑰᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᕆᐊᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᓇᓱᐊᖅᖢᓂ, ᐃᓄᓕᒫᓄᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔨᐅᓚᐅᖅᐸᒡᖢᖓ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᓕᒫᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᓴᓗᒻᒪᖅᓴᐃᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᖢᖓ ᕿᓚᓗᒐᐅᑉ ᕿᒥᕐᓗᐊᓂᒃ.” ᐱᖁᑎᒋᓐᖏᑕᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᐱᑖᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑐᑰᓇᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᓇᓱᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᔭᒻᒪᑕ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᐃᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᒡᓗᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᕕᒃᑯᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᖅᑖᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᐊᕋᒥᒃ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔾᔪᑎᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᓇᑎᒃ ᐱᖁᑎᓪᓚᑖᒥᒃ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᒪᔪᒥᒃ. ᐅᓇ ᐅᓗᕆᐊᓇᖅᑐᖅ 1 ᐃᐅᓚᓐ ᔫᓐᔅ, “ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᑎᖓᑎᑦᑎᕕᐅᔪᑦ: ᖃᖓᑦᑕᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᓕᕆᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᑉ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᓄᑦ,” ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᓐᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖅ 28, ᓈᓴᐅᑖ 2 ᓴᕿᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᒫᓐᓇᒧᑦ, ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓯᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᒪᑐᒪᖓᑦ (ᐊᐅᔭᖅ 2015): 38–ᒥᑦ 41–ᒧᑦ. ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᓕᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᓄᖃᖅᑎᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ 2 ᕼᐃᓐᔅ ᐃᑎᖕᒍ, ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓂᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᑦᑎᓂᕐᒥ ᐃᓗᐊᖏᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ. (ᑎᐅᓚᔅ: ᐱᒃ ᐅᓕᕗᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, 2017), 10. 3 ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᖃᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᒫᑕ ᖃᔮᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᕐᕋᓕᒃ ᑕᕕ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᓕᕙᓪᓕᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᕋᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ ᐅᓇ ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕇᖕᓂᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒪᒐᔭᕐᒥᔪᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᐱᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᖃᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᖃᕆᓴᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᑮᓇᐅᔭᓕᐅᕈᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᓱᒃᑲᓕᕐᒪᑕ ᐱᑐᒍᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓯᑎᐱᕆ 17 ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᒃᑑᐸ 6, 2018. ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᐅᔪᑦ, ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᑭᐊᕿᕕᖕᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᓱᓕ 4 ᐅᓚᐃᑦᓱ ᓕᕕ-ᒥᒃᓛᕕᓚᓐ, “ᑕᑯᒍᒃ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑲᑎᖓᔪᑦ ᑎᑭᐅᑎᐊᓂᒃᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑭᑐᔪᖅ ᓱᓕᖅ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᕿᓰᑦ,” ᑲᓇᐃᑎᐊᓐ ᔨᐅᑯᓛᕕᒃ, ᐊᑐᕐᓗᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᐅᔪᑦ, ᐊᖕᖏᒡᓕᒋᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᐅᖃᓘᑎᕋᓛᓕᕆᕕᖓ ᒪᐃ 20, 2017, https://www.canadiangeographic.ca/article/see-how-inuit-designer3G ᖃᖓᑦᑕᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᒧᑦ ᐊᑕᕕᐅᔪᖅ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, combines-fashion-and-tradition-using-sealskin.

Exchange

Inuit Art, Design and the Digital Economy

Points of Return: A Conversation with Kablusiak and Jesse Tungilik â&#x20AC;&#x201D; by Clayton Windatt

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Kablusiak (b. 1993 Calgary/ Edmonton) — Untitled (That’s A-Mori) 2018 Digital photograph ALL IMAGES COURTESY THE ARTIST

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Jesse Tungilik (b. 1984 Panniqtuuq) — Pop, Chip, Kukuk 2018 Mixed media on plywood 70 × 121.9 cm ALL IMAGES COURTESY BANFF CENTRE FOR ARTS AND CREATIVITY PHOTO JESSICA WITTMAN

Inuit Art Quarterly

In July 2018 Alberta-based artist and curator Kablusiak (Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter) and Iqaluit-based multidisciplinary artist Jesse Tungilik participated in the TD North South Artist Exchange. The program provided two customized self-directed residencies—Kablusiak travelled to Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, while Tungilik participated in the Banff Artist in Residence (BAiR) Summer 2018 program at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity in Alberta. In the following interview, conducted by Clayton Windatt, Director of the Aboriginal Curatorial Collective, the artists discuss the impetus behind their respective residencies and the outcomes of the exchange.

Winter 2018

PHOTO TABITHA RHYASON

PHOTO JESSICA WITTMAN

CW: As both of you revisited your specific bodies of work during the residency, what new things have you been able to accomplish in a different physical place? And what do these residencies mean for your practices?

KABLUSIAK: I wanted to go to Inuvik because it was a place, a home, that I haven’t been back to in 20 years. I went up during the Great Northern Arts Festival [GNAF], so I was able to catch more people and be more involved in the art scene in Inuvik while I was there.

K: I think just being in Inuvik was really important because of the time and the space to make the work. I don’t really have those opportunities in Calgary, just with studio rentals and the issues regarding air quality that come with carving. And then, with the photos, the landscape was really important for that series in this iteration of it.

JESSE TUNGILIK: I chose Banff because the Banff Centre had the creative spaces, studio spaces and the specialized equipment and technicians that I needed and don’t usually have access to and which I required for the projects that I wanted to do.

Could you discuss the particular projects you each worked on?

JT: Well, like I mentioned earlier, the Banff Centre has really excellent artist studios that just don’t really exist here in Nunavut. It’s really a big problem for artists that do not have the proper space to work in or the required specialized tools and implements, so being able to take advantage of all that was pretty amazing for me, and really makes me wish we had access to that locally. It really helped me bring my artistic practice to the next level. It was a really big deal to have access to 12 labs. As well, the location of the Banff Centre is pretty special. It’s in a kind of bubble of its own. Being able to focus solely on the work was so useful to being able to get it done. Plus, Banff is beautiful, so it was pretty ideal.

JT: I mainly focused on contemporary sculpture. I did a second companion piece to my assemblage Nunavice Flag (2013), which is a recreation of the Nunavut flag using found objects. This time around I used chocolate bar wrappers, pop cases and chip bags for Pop, Chip, Kukuk (2018). I also worked on a series where I 3D printed and bronze cast a figure of an Inuk man and suspended him in clear resin inside of a bottle. And I also did a little bit of ceramic work. I started my artistic practice as a ceramic artist at the Matchbox studio in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, when I was a child. It was pretty fun to get back to some familiar work in ceramic and then try some new things with the 3D printer and bronze casting. Overall, I had a really fantastic time.

K: I think the support, not only from the folks who helped out when I was in Inuvik, but even from the Canadian Art Foundation and the selection committee for the residency, that support to create is really helpful to being able to continue your practice.1

K: While I was in Inuvik, I made four new carvings for the series Uyarak//Stone, and I was also able to continue Untitled (That’s A-Mori),

Exchange

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Jesse Tungilik discussing work with artist Nicole Kelly Westman and Stride Gallery Director Areum Kim, 2018

a photo series of myself in a ghost costume. It was pretty straightforward. It felt satisfying just to be able to add more to those two projects.

CLAYTON WINDATT: The first thing that I’d like to ask is since for each of you the TD North South Artist Exchange was a return—a return home or a return to a previous site of work—why did you choose to complete the residency in these specific places? Why Inuvik and why Banff?

CW:

LEFT

Installation view of work by Jesse Tungilik during Open Studios at the Banff Centre, August 2018

Points of Return

Kablusiak — BELOW

RIGHT

Buttplug (from the series Uyarak//Stone) 2018 Steatite and tung oil 12.1 × 5.7 cm

Listerine (from the series Uyarak//Stone) 2018 Steatite and tung oil 17.8 × 8.9 × 4.5 cm

It was hard for me after ACAD [Alberta College of Art and Design] to find the time and space where you’re not exhausted from working your jobs and trying to exist as a person as well as an artist. I think mostly the time and the space was really beneficial.

to hone my carving skills. The way it has impacted my practice? I think just being in Inuvik made me think about the way I’ve been framing my work for the past couple years or so. I usually frame it as a loss or diasporic feeling of being in cultural limbo. I’m thinking that post-Inuvik, I owe it to myself, and my practice, to frame things in a different way. More of a reclaiming of something, rather than a loss of something.

CW: How did seeing or engaging with other artists during the Great Northern Arts Festival and with those completing other residencies at the Banff Centre affect you?

JT: In terms of new skills, I’d never done any 3D printing or bronze casting before, so that was new territory for me. Both of those are things that I’ve been wanting to try for quite a long time but haven’t had the opportunity to here in Nunavut, so that impacted the work that I was able to do. Moving forward, I’d like to continue to make a contemporary and contextual sculpture using a number of different materials. It was really important for the development of my work and my artistic career.

It was kind of funny working at the carving tent area at the GNAF, as it was mostly folks from one family. I believe they were from Tuktoyaktuk, NT. Most of their carvings were traditional carvings you would see in any shop that sold Inuit art. There were really beautiful carvings of bears and wolves and other northern animals. They saw what I was working on—at that point, I was making the Listerine bottle—and they would be like, “Oh, what are you working on?” Then they would just start laughing when they realized what that shape was. It was jarring for everybody to be like, “Wow, this person is making such different artwork.” Even though they were giggling at my Listerine bottle, they were all really supportive— lending me tools, helping me get set up with everything and finding me a space. I think it was more of a DIY-type situation.

CW: What would you like to say directly to Inuit artists about why they should pursue residency opportunities? JT: I think residencies are really important for Inuit artists who want to bring their artistic practices to the next level and just be able to try new things and create a good network with other artists. I’ve often felt pressured by how often and easily Inuit art gets pigeonholed by people. I don’t really agree with that. I think more artists, in my opinion, need to be going out there and pushing the boundaries of what art is. I think residencies are important for that.

JT: The atmosphere at the Banff Centre is always so busy. There’s such a large number of people coming and going from so many different backgrounds. During my residency, there was also a cohort of Outdoor School residents that I spoke to. The artists there were from all over the world and working in all sorts of different disciplines. It made for a really cool, creative atmosphere, where everyone was just kind of hanging out and trying out new things with each other, which was pretty neat. I wanted to focus on very contemporary things and play around with new materials and techniques. That was great.

K: I feel exactly the same way. I think it’s good for not only the artist, who’s having the opportunity to work on their practice and build those connections, but also for the people hosting the residencies. Also, I don’t know if this is going to sound harsh or whatever, but I feel like it makes them look good to have Inuit present, because I feel like our presence is not necessarily as widespread.

CW: How do you think the residency impacted your work, particularly concerning the skills you developed through the residency?

CW: Well, that’s definitely something that I think a lot of people think about. I’ve been asked a lot, lately, about what a decolonized exhibition space or art space looks like. And I’ve been really interested

Skills-wise, just being able to do more carving. Definitely, the more you do something, the better you get at it. That was a good time

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

I’ve often felt pressured by how often and easily Inuit art gets pigeonholed by people. I don’t really agree with that. I think more artists, in my opinion, need to be going out there and pushing the boundaries of what art is. —

Kablusiak — Disposable Razor (from the series Uyarak//Stone) 2018 Steatite and tung oil 11.7 × 4 cm

in all the different responses that people give. What does a decolonized art space look like to you?

Not having the commercial incentive as a Sword of Damocles hanging over my head the entire time really helped my creative process—just being able to immerse myself in the work. In my opinion, anything that we can do to uncouple the commercial aspects of the art world and the creation [aspect is important]. Maybe it’s not realistic, but during the residency, I stopped and realized just how impactful it is to not have to worry about all of that.

JT: Well, I think having the spaces curated, staffed and led by Indigenous people is pretty important to me. It’s sad to have basically monopolized those fields for so long that it’s hard to imagine anything different. But I think a good first step is to have Indigenous people be able to speak for ourselves and to share our stories in our own words.

CW: I guess the very last question that I have for you both is, what would your dream collaboration look like?

K: Yeah, I totally agree. I think we need to be the authors of our own stories. That person who’s been writing the history books doesn’t represent us anymore and, if we’re talking physical space, I think the art gallery needs to just leave the equation. I think it’s such a loaded space already, with its own history of exclusion, that maybe this is the wrong method. Cutting it out of the question could be a way to start thinking differently about art. CW: I’ve had a long time to reflect on this, and for me, personally, I’d rather show my work in somebody’s kitchen than in a formalized art space. Growing up, my family gatherings would always be in my grandmother’s kitchen and that’s where all the best stuff happened. That’s where the important discussions took place and, as a kid, getting my work put on the fridge was like the high point of success, and I don’t know why that changed. Those are still the important people in my life. So, why am I seeking power in these other places, when the people that I respect the most are over on this other side here? That idea of Indigenous community gatherings, having your work centred there and being appreciated by the people you care about, that just makes sense to me. Or having those people have control over the way that a space is treated is a very similar thing and another way of going about it. I guess, for me, it comes down to feeling comfortable and having people who support you all around. JT:

One of the things that I really enjoyed about my residency at the Banff Centre was not having to worry about practicalities. All my food and accommodation were completely taken care of.

Exchange

K: I feel like my answer is going to throw our whole conversation into the toilet, but I want to do a collaboration with a pet. Maybe somebody’s dog or somebody’s cat. CW: I don’t think that’s a bad answer [laughs]. What do you think, Jesse? JT: Oh boy. I’m really not sure. I would like to collaborate with an artist who is really technically proficient in a lot of different things. I find a lot of my time creating is spent just trying to figure out how to make something work materially, so I think working with someone with more experience and a better grasp of that would save me a lot of time and help me a lot. As for anyone specific, there are so many artists out there that I’d love to work with.

This interview has been edited for clarity and condensed.

NOTES

The selection committee for the TD North South Artist Exchange included Inuit Art Foundation Executive Director Alysa Procida, independent curator and writer Candice Hopkins, Concordia University Research Chair in Indigenous Art History and IAF Board Member Dr. Heather Igloliorte and Canadian Art Indigenous Editor-at-Large Lindsay Nixon.

Points of Return

PORTFOLIO

In the following Portfolio, the IAQ brings together 16 diverse artists gathered from Tuktoyaktuk, NT, to North West River, NL, working collaboratively across five unique projects. Ranging from an experimental performance that weaves together throat singing with advanced software and the dynamic, multi-authored ceramics from the Matchbox Gallery studios in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, to layered drawings completed in Victoria, BC, the results of these group efforts are far more than the sum of their parts. Taken as a whole, the works featured on the following pages provide a brief sampling of the many ways in which contemporary Inuit and non-Inuit artists, across Inuit Nunangat and beyond, come together. Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

Roger Aksadjuak b. 1972 Winnipeg, MB — John Kurok b. 1977 Kangiqliniq, NU —

Leo Napayok b. 1961 Kangiqliniq, NU — Jack Nuviyak 1971–2016 Kangiqliniq, NU —

Completed at the Matchbox Gallery in Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, a studio known for its multi-authored and hand-built ceramic pieces, Enchanted Bear (2013) does not shy away from its collaborative nature. Relief images of human figures, hands and faces, created though what artist Leo Napayok describes as “drawing-carving” fill the musculature of Jack Nuviyak’s (1971–2016) base animal. A large loon rests on the bear’s neck as its sprawling wings form a pronounced shoulder blade. The creature appears carefully positioned by John Kurok, known for his layered and interwoven avian forms. Finally, Roger Aksadjuak’s hand is reflected in the group of parka-clad men that emerge from the creature’s back— their shifting tonal surfaces produced from the studio’s smoke-firing technique. Each element is unique and bears the particular qualities of its maker. When read as a whole these narratives seem to slip together, with multiple voices and many hands contributing to a singular story that is enveloping and revealing with each new look.

Roger Aksadjuak (b. 1972 Winnipeg) John Kurok (b. 1977 Kangiqliniq) Leo Napayok (b. 1961 Kangiqliniq) Jack Nuviyak (1971–2016 Kangiqliniq) — Enchanted Bear 2013 Smoke-fired porcelain 61 × 33 × 33 cm COURTESY MATCHBOX GALLERY

Exchange

Group Effort

Lyne Bastien b. 1957 Montreal, QC — Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk b. 1954 Ivujivik, QC —

Passa Mangiuk b. 1955 Ivujivik, QC — Mary Paningajak b. 1961 Ivujivik, QC —

Space is limited for collective artmaking across the North, particularly in Nunavik. Over two years working in the living room of Ivujivik- and Montreal-based artist and printmaker Lyne Bastien, Mary Paningajak, Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk and Passa Mangiuk, all from Ivujivik, QC, developed a series of linocuts that formed the basis of the four collaborative 28-panel prints, exhibited in the fall of 2018 as part of Convergence North/South at Feheley Fine Arts in Toronto, ON. “I make art to show how we survived on our land and how we used land in any way,” Iyaituk explains. “To pass on my language and culture is the most important thing to me.” Paningajak’s images of Arctic flora mix with Iyaituk’s depictions of time-honoured clothing—amautiit (women’s parkas), kamiik (boots) and mittens—alongside Mangiuk’s representations of sealskin stretching and an unaaq (harpoon) and Bastien’s abstracted forms to celebrate, preserve and relay traditional Inuit knowledge.

Passa Mangiuk (b. 1955 Ivujivik) — Convergence North/South 2018 Linocut 99 × 26 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

Malaya Bishop b. 1987 Iqaluit, NU — Jenna Broomfield b. 1989 North West River, NL — Maziar Ghaderi b. 1983 Toronto, ON —

Issues of perspective, isolation and space were at the heart of the recent performance KATIMAJUIT, included as part of the 2018 SummerWorks Lab experimental programming and presented at their Performance Festival in Toronto, ON. Across four days of rehearsals, the throat singing duo The Sila Singers—North West River-born Jenna Broomfield and Iqaluit-born Malaya Bishop— worked with multimedia artist and director Maziar Ghaderi, along with a score produced by Toronto-based Ciara Adams and Ali Jafri of SAINTFIELD in a series of isolated practices and collaborative engagements. This diverse exchange, initiated by Ghaderi, applied Sahar Homami’s vocal visualization software to Broomfield and Bishop’s vocals to produce real-time images that transformed their sonic landscape into a tangible environment and complimented their performance built on traditional Inuit games. According to Broomfield, “we drew on our own personal experiences to shift the narrative of throat singing away from being animalistic to something that could actually be challenged as different environments.”

Jenna Broomfield and Malaya Bishop performing in KATIMAJUIT at SummerWorks Performance Festival, Toronto, ON, 2018 COURTESY SUMMERWORKS PERFORMANCE FESTIVAL PHOTO HENRY CHAN

Exchange

Group Effort

Qavavau Manumie b. 1958 Kinngait, NU — Luke Ramsey b. 1979 Victoria, BC —

On a November afternoon in 2012, having never met before, Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, graphic artist Qavavau Manumie and Victoria-based illustrator Luke Ramsey sat in Madrona Gallery in Victoria, BC, trading sheets of paper at approximately half-hour intervals. “There was this unspoken communication between them,” recalls Director Michael Warren, who first connected the pair. “You could see as the process evolved over the day, they began to anticipate each other’s language a bit more. You see these aspects of each artist’s voice come to the forefront in different elements of each work.” The result is four unique ink-on-paper works that combine Manumie’s distinct avian creatures and gestural forms with Ramsey’s graphic mark making. In one drawing, stylized wings spreading from an egg-like form contained within a dilapidated boat are distinctly Ramsey’s, while the beak of Manumie’s bird, its billowing teardrop wings containing smaller smiling droplets, appears to pull the vessel, and the collaboration, forward.

Qavavau Manumie (b. 1958 Kinngait) Luke Ramsey — Boat and Bird 2012 Ink 45.7 × 61 cm COURTESY MADRONA GALLERY

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

Dolphus Cadieux b. 1954 Yellowknife, NT — Bill Nasogaluak b. 1953 Tuktoyaktuk, NT — Allyson Simmie Bridgewater, NS —

Bill Nasogaluak is no stranger to joint efforts: a talented carver, educator and trained electronics technician, Nasogaluak was a contributing artist and team leader for the deeply symbolic 1999 Northwest Territories parliamentary mace. Together, Nasogaluak’s team of sculptors, Allyson Simmie and Dolphus Cadieux, deftly captured the cultural richness and diversity of the newly established territory. Six panels, carved from marble harvested from the Precambrian Shield near Yellowknife, NT, compose the head of the mace, which contains depictions of the Inuvialuit, Dene, Métis and settler cultures as well as the land, waters and animals that comprise the territory. At the foot, a stylized narwhal tusk honours the previous mace while supporting a continuous landscape that transitions from mountains and foothills, to the delta and tundra, and back again as the mace spins. Within, the team included pebbles from the region’s 33 communities—an audible reminder of the larger population the object represents—and rests on a custom marble base that is none-the-less as symbolic as the mace itself. The resulting piece, and the collaboration, appear incapsulated by the apt inscription, written in ten different languages, on the band that divides the marble panels from the mace’s snowflake-crowned head: “One land, many voices.”

Bill Nasogaluak (b. 1953 Tuktoyaktuk) Dolphus Cadieux Allyson Simmie — Parliamentary Mace of the Northwest Territories 1999 Mixed media 150 cm COURTESY LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY OF THE NORTHWEST TERRITORIES

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Group Effort

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Inuit Art Quarterly

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Winter 2018

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LEGACY

Inuit Art at Expo ’70

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Visitors watch John Pangnark and Paul Toolooktook at work in the Canadian Pavilion, Osaka, Japan, 1970 PHOTO JOHN TAKAHAMA

by John Geoghegan

Often the stories behind an object’s creation and the curious circumstances surrounding its origin can be so captivating or remarkable that they imbue that object with tremendous intrigue. One such mystery involves the work known as the Inuit Venus de Milo, carved out of Quebec serpentinite by John Pangnark (1920–1980) while in Osaka, Japan, for Expo ’70 and gifted to the Prince of Wales that same year. Though the piece is thought to be lost, it marks a significant moment in Inuit art history. When Expo ’70 opened in Osaka, Inuit art had a much stronger presence than at any World’s Fair before it. Both artworks and artists were on display in the high modernist Canadian Government Pavilion by Erickson/ Massey Architects. During this period, the height of the Cold War, the Canadian government claimed and promoted Inuit art for the purposes of cultural diplomacy. It is ironic that Inuit art was chosen as a symbol of Canadian nationalism in a period when the government sought to repress Inuit traditional Inuit Art Quarterly

life through policies of erasure. Despite these attempts, artists remained resilient and used the international stage to promote traditional culture and teachings. In 1968 Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013) and Johnniebo Ashevak (1923–1972) were commissioned to create a plaster mural for Expo ’70 that saw them living and working in Ottawa for two months. The high contrast, relief mural featured a quintessential Kenojuak owl— feathers and plumes radiating in all directions. 58

Surrounding the central owl were panels depicting animals, spirits and a camp scene. At over three metres tall and four metres across, it was heralded as the largest artwork by Inuit artists ever. Following completion, the mural was shipped to Japan to hang in the Canadian Pavilion. Kenojuak and Johnniebo were invited to travel to Expo ’70, but declined the offer. In their place, four artists—Syollie Amituk (1936–1986), John Pangnark, Eliyah Pootoogook and Paul Toolooktook (1947– 2003)—flew to Japan in February 1970, where they were set to live for six months while carving daily in the Canadian Pavilion. Amituk was a talented carver and printmaker from Puvirnituq, Nunavik, QC, well known for his stonecuts, while Pangnark, the oldest artist of the group, was gaining recognition for his decidedly minimal sculptures carved from Kivalliq stone. Pootoogook, the only Inuit artist of the group to have work at both Expo ’67 and Expo ’70, had contributed to the annual print collections in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, as artist and printmaker throughout the 1960s. Finally, Toolooktook, the youngest of the group, worked primarily as a carver in the community of Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU. The artists were joined by Iqarlik, Quitsaq and Novoalik Pootoogook—the wife and children of Eliyah Pootoogook—as well as Keith and Edna Crowe and their children. Keith Crowe, who was employed at the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development (now Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada), had lived in the North and spoke Inuktut, while Edna Crowe was fluent in Japanese. The couple acted as interpreters for the artists while in Japan. The artists, alongside the Pootoogook and Crowe families, lived in apartments close to the Expo grounds. The constant noise and bustling atmosphere was a major adjustment for the artists, most of whom had never lived outside of their respective small northern communities. In Osaka, the artists worked in the Canadian Pavilion beneath the mural carved by Kenojuak and Johnniebo Ashevak. Working in shifts, they made carvings or Winter 2018

LEGACY

LEFT

BELOW

Page from the article “Inuit to Japan” in the Spring 1980 Anniversary issue of Inuktitut

Expo ’70 poster designed by Shigeo Fukuda

During this period, the height of the Cold War, the Canadian government claimed and promoted Inuit art for the purposes of cultural diplomacy.

bas-relief sculptures as visitors observed them from behind a display showcasing Inuit art and artefacts. Amituk and Pootoogook enjoyed carving the plaster panels similar to those produced by the Ashevaks, while Pangnark and Toolooktook worked on threedimensional sculptures, almost exclusively. Steatite was imported from the Eastern Townships in Quebec, as the soft stone was thought to be easy for the artists to carve. In the opening days and weeks of the fair, dignitaries and heads of state, notably the Emperor and Empress of Japan, visited the Canadian Pavilion. Occasionally, these visitors were given gifts. Crowe recalled Pangnark sitting with his feet up on a box: “Happily he beamed at Prince Charles, who was quite unknown to him, while, all around, the area fairly seethed with protocol and security.”¹ One of Pangnark’s sculptures was Exchange

given to the prince as a political gesture from undoubtedly influenced the rise of Pangnark’s career. In May 1970, a month after returning the Canadian government. While Pangnark from Japan, the exhibition Oonark/Pangnark had been working on the piece one of the opened at the National Museum of Man appendages broke off, perhaps because (now the Canadian Museum of History) the artist was not used to the stone, which in Ottawa, ON, and began a national tour. was much softer than the basalt he usually The following year, the major exhibition carved in Arviat, NU. Pangnark’s response was to take an axe and remove the other arm. Sculpture/Inuit included five of the artist’s works on its international tour. Pangnark At the time, the sculpture was referred to continued to make works until his passing in the press as the Inuit Venus de Milo. in 1980, but he never again travelled Six weeks after arriving in Osaka, away from his home to make art or attend Pangnark left Japan and returned to an exhibition. his home in Arviat. Though he was meant to stay until the pavilion closed in October, the bustling environment of Japan and the requirement that he carve for hours each day proved too much for the artist. NOTES Though little has been recorded about the specific artworks created in the pavilion ¹ Keith Crowe, “Eskimos in Japan,” The Beaver (Spring 1971): 57. or their reception, the international exposure 59

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CURATORIAL NOTES

Illirijavut: Our values that are precious McClure Gallery, Visual Arts Centre

Installation view of Illirijavut: Our values that are precious at McClure Gallery, Visual Arts Centre, Montreal, QC, 2018 PHOTO KATHRYN DELANEY

JUNE 1–23, 2018 MONTREAL, QC

by Kathryn Delaney with Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk

The exhibition Illirijavut was a ten-year retrospective of original Inuit graphic storybooks created by artists from five different Nunavik communities: Ivujivik, Inukjuak, Salluit, Akulivik and Kangiqsujuaq.1 The booklets highlight experiences and stories shared by local elders during seven storytelling and storybook-making workshops held over the last decade across Nunavik, and which were led in Inuktut by Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk and facilitated by myself. Hailing from distinct cultures while unified by a shared spirit of collaboration, the exhibition explored what defines artmaking and a living culture through Inuit storytelling and creative storybook making. Inuit Art Quarterly

The project began during the 2009 Annual Nunavik Art Workshops in Inukjuak, when I was hired to develop and teach a storytelling and storybook-making workshop. As a non-Inuktut speaker, I was eager to engage with someone who was able to communicate with the elders, like Mangiuk Iyaituk, who had signed up for the workshop. This began our ten-year artistic collaboration. With our backgrounds in community education, we were keenly aware of the need for qualified art instruction in Inuktut and access to professional art material in all 14 Nunavik communities. We joined forces the following year to meet the challenges faced by artists living in Nunavik and agreed 60

to build on each consecutive workshop. The method was simple: bring the art materials and provide instruction in Inuktut, and the participants would come. “If you can draw a circle, you can join us.” This is how we have designed these group workshops ever since, as an open invitation to anyone 16 and over in the community interested in exploring the subject. In 2015 the workshops were offered to non-Inuit and Inuit living in southern cities. The inaugural southern workshop was held in Montreal, QC, at the Visual Arts Centre, followed by workshop events held in 2017 at the Native Friendship Center of Montreal’s Inter-Tribal Youth Center at Dawson College Winter 2018

CURATORIAL NOTES

Each work, rendered in watercolour and ink, relays the strong personalities of the individual artists and the often humorous and powerful stories shared by elders.

Panels from Louie Qungisiruk’s Losing Family Member (2013)

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during Indigenous Days; the University of Ottawa’s Indigenous Resource Centre with Nunavut Sivuniksavut students in Ottawa, ON; the Winnipeg Art Gallery in Manitoba; and at the prestigious École nationale supérieure des beaux arts de Paris in France. Sculptor Mattiusi Iyaituk, a recent recipient of the Ordre des arts et des lettres de Québec from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec and long-time project supporter, joined us in 2015 to act as an elder storyteller for the southern workshops. The 32 storybooks, crafted on paper by 19 individual artists during these workshops, formed the basis of the exhibition. As visitors entered the McClure Gallery in the Visual Arts Centre, they experienced these unique graphic works at eye level. The objective was to eliminate anything non-essential and keep the focus on the small, intricate works that stood folded into an accordion-like design. The storybooks were displayed on two simple Russian pine-wood tables, supported by zigzag bases. Additional works were presented in a series of six wallmounted shelves. Each work, rendered in watercolour and ink, relays the strong personalities of the individual artists and the often humorous and powerful stories shared by elders. With an easy-going style, Ivujivik-based Paula Ainalik’s storybook conveys the joy of children at play in an anecdote relayed by Mangiuk Iyaituk about a Catholic priest who kept postbags to organize sack races during the Christmas season. Manu Qaunnaaluk, also from Ivujivik, illustrated her booklet with details that capture a personal story told by Mattiusi: Stuck after their Ski-Doo broke down, Mattiusi, his older brother and a friend

had to walk for miles to get home. When the friend eventually collapsed from exhaustion, they built an igloo to stay in overnight. Hungry and tired, the party thought they saw a fox. Yet, it turned out to be only a mirage. Fortunately, they were found the next day and brought back to the community. Inspired by Ivujivik elder Siasi Mangiuk’s experience of her sunglasses breaking from the extreme cold while she and her mother were out checking her father’s fox trap, Passa Mangiuk imbues the story with her unique sense of humour and made visitors laugh out loud with her expressive, playful watercolour drawings. A story by Eva Sakiagaq Audlaluk about her family going camping during beluga season was the perfect subject for Salluit-based Louisa Pauyungie, whose drawings are often intense and spontaneous, with large figures that emphasize their importance. Pauyungie depicts a family at their traditional summer hunting camp with qajait (kayaks) made with sealskins of different tones. What stands out in Akulivik-based Louie Qungisiruk’s long graphic storybooks are her vivid colors and her emphasis on details. Marvelling at her artistic ability and intimate knowledge of her culture, we are drawn in, page after page—especially in this dramatic story, told by Alasie Nappatuk Alaku, that captures a family tragedy with tenderness. Alongside this work, Kangiqsujuaq-based Qiallak Qumaaluk used saturated colours to illustrate the walrus blood and meat prepared and sewn for fermentation in In the Fall, Walrus Go Further North (2017). A number of the booklets selected for the exhibition were loaned from the Avataq

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CURATORIAL NOTES

RIGHT

Panels from Sarah Lisa Kasudluak’s My Dress (2017) BELOW

Panels from Qumaq Mangiuk Iyaituk’s Fish Have No Legs (2009)

Cultural Institute, including one by Ivujivikbased jeweller, carver and graphic artist Mary Paningajak, who used a fine-tip ink pen in a pointillist style to produce Just Walking. . . (2011), a sequence of images of an Inuk dressed in a parka. Five of the booklets on display were also published as a unique collection of exhibition catalogues by the McClure Gallery in collaboration with Avataq and translated in Inuktut, English and French. In one, Mangiuk Iyaituk represents with simplicity, elegance and beautiful tones a story that explains why fish have no legs, based on a conversation she had with her grandson Willie. In another, Inukjuak-based Sarah Lisa Kasudluak Inuit Art Quarterly

carefully translated Nellie Nastapoka’s story of her brother’s meticulous construction of dresses into an illustrated tale, featuring vibrant figures in watercolour. To compliment the rich imagery and shared histories in these booklets, a section of the exhibition contained a soundscape of Mangiuk Iyaituk giving instruction in Inuktut from a workshop in Kangiqsujuaq in 2017, emphasizing and celebrating the vitality of Inuit oral tradition. Taken together, Illirijavut is a strong acknowledgement of the empowerment of individual artists through community storytelling and the capacity for self-expression through visual art and language. 62

NOTES 1

Thank you to Avataq Cultural Institute, Kativik Regional Government, Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec and Air Inuit for their support of this project over the past decade. We would also like to thank Canada Council for the Arts, The J.W. McConnell Family Foundation and The Circle on Philanthropy and Aboriginal Peoples in Canada, for a significant {Re}conciliation grant for Illirijavut. This exhibition and its publications would not be possible without funding from Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec, support from Aumaaggiivik (Nunavik Arts Secretariat from Avataq) and the contribution of the Nunavimmiut and non-Inuit artists involved in these workshops.

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REVIEW

Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak Art Gallery of Ontario JUNE 13–AUGUST 12, 2018 TORONTO, CANADA

Installation view of Kenojuak Ashevak’s The Enchanted Owl (1960) in Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto, ON, 2018 ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO PHOTO DEAN TOMLINSON

by Lisa Myers

Blurring the distinctions between artist and curator in an exhibition is compelling to me. Disrupting the conventional roles of curators and artists within an exhibition at a major institution is also something that I appreciate, both as an artist and as a curator. The curatorial strategies in the landmark exhibition Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) in Toronto, ON, appear to do and undo some of this disruption. The exhibition is organized by a collaborative curatorial team comprised of Ottawa-based sculptor Koomuatuk (Kuzy) Curley; Kautokeino, Norway–based poet and storyteller Taqralik Partridge; Ottawa-based curator Jocelyn Piirainen; and Iqaluit-based artist and performer Laakkuluk Williamson Inuit Art Quarterly

Bathory, as well as AGO curator Georgiana Uhlyarik and York University professor Dr. Anna Hudson.¹ Each member of the Inuit curatorial team has contributed their words— presented as quotes on didactic panels—and individual works to the exhibition, alongside those of Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013) and Tim Pitsiulak (1967–2016), which provides a more personal voice and context while conveying impressions of hunting camps, animal life, Arctic light and more. The resulting text, audio and video that accompany the retrospective expand the conventional repertoire of interpretive strategies that frequently privilege an authoritative and anonymous institutional voice as well as an exhibition design that often organizes work chronologically or 64

thematically. However, I was struck by how to interpret and consider the artistic gestures by the curators themselves that are included. They are artworks, yes, but maybe they are also curatorial strategies. As a dreamlike immersive portal at the start of the exhibition, Williamson Bathory presents her video Silaup Putunga (2018). Projected on a two-sided screen, the video sets a dreamy mood and provides a sense of magical realism that foregrounds the rest of the exhibition. The camera follows entities through a snowy Arctic landscape, accompanied by an immersive soundscape with vocal improvisation by musician Celina Kalluk. More emphatic political assertions of self-determination arise in Williamson Bathory’s poem I am the light of happiness Winter 2018

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(2018), borrowing from the words and work of Ashevak, where she argues that Inuit art exists beyond merely being an emblem of Canadian art. Williamson Bathory conveys a bird’s eye view in her poetic approach that honours Ashevak’s life, work and relationship to birds, particularly the owl. The prevalence of birds during Arctic summers comes through in Ashevak’s work. Her lithograph Bountiful Bird (1986) portrays a surreal design of repeated bird heads forming a halo around an owl’s face and emerging from the fan of its tail feathers. The overall design conveys a rhythmic chorus of winged creatures that is almost audible. Two symmetrical stonecut pieces present two possible self-portraits of Ashevak as a “happy owl,” which the artist was quoted referring to herself as in Landmarks of Canada (1978). My Birds (1975) depicts a woman’s face between two owls, while Happy Little Owl (1969) shows an owl figure with large eyes and talons and includes the distinct Ashevak style of emanating, featherlike loops protruding from the owl’s head and body. These drawings reveal profound humour, yet also a deep connection to the symbolism of seasonal changes. With a career spanning five decades, Ashevak’s work inspired not only her nephew Pitsiulak, but also subsequent generations of artists— including poets, sculptors and performers. Further inside, Partridge’s installation of a qarmaq—a traditional sod house, here lined with New York Times newspaper pages emphasizing offensive language when referring to Inuit—creates a backdrop and resting place for visitors to listen to her compelling stories and poetry, while surrounded by Ashevak’s work. Partridge reads her texts of camp life and eating fish and caribou, vividly experiencing the places in her memories and thoughts. Her own writing and her presentation of the story Raven and Owl (2018) gives context for

that “has been principally devoted to the Ashevak’s and Pitsiulak’s work, following study and celebration of Western art.” In his the strategies in a curatorial approach. But 1990 article in The Globe and Mail, Bentley I would not reduce this work as instrumental Mays goes on to query the work as sculpture or supplementary, as it provides an immerrather than carving and poses an ethnosive, aesthetic experience that transports us graphic perspective towards Inuit art similar in Partridge’s calls home. to that placed on other Indigenous art. Another interpretive strategy from the Bentley Mays asserts, “Inuit carving, after all, curatorial team comes in the form of a series has played no part in the history of Western of video interviews made by Curley, who art, either as a contributor to that great also happens to be Pitsiulak’s nephew. These dialogue across time nor as a notable videos bring the perspectives of both recipient and translator of it.” I mention this Ashevak’s and Pitsiulak’s family, as well as community members, into the gallery. These because we need not take for granted the personal and reflective accounts of Pitsiulak’s work that has been done in the past couple of decades, where numerous curators and life as a hunter and artist emphasized how artists have intervened, transforming the observation was a key part of his drawing gallery to make space for Indigenous art.² practice. His use of a GoPro camera further Incrementally building on each action and extended these visual investigations. step, this exhibition’s collaborative curatorial Katsuqtu Tide (2015) shows the muted team continues this necessary work. Bringing colours of kelp swaying in dimly lit waters, together artists and curators with expertise resulting from an underwater image taken in art and a shared experience of community with his camera. The pastel drawing Hero 4 makes space for Inuit presence and (2015) borrows its name from a specific perspectives in collections, in exhibitions GoPro model, pictured here reaching into and in curatorial roles. the scene where two walruses sit back to back, humorously suggesting the courage of the encroaching camera. Pitsiulak’s work also visualizes the less tangible aspects of the world, from creatures in old stories to thinning ice, that reveal the amplified presence of climate change in the circumpolar North. Together, Pitsiulak’s works convey his varied experiences and observations of NOTES the material reality and the beliefs underlying 1 Williamson Bathory’s connections to the AGO Inuit life in the North, which are often run quite deep. Her father, Bob Williamson, donated misunderstood in the South. a collection of Inuit sculptures to the gallery in the 1980s, and Williamson Bathory also co-curated The curatorial voice is strongly asserted, yet, the varied tone and presence created by the exhibition Inuit Art in Motion (2004) with Dr. Anna Hudson (then AGO Associate Curator video, audio and installation work accompaof Canadian Art). nies rather than displaces the featured artists’ 2 While not an exhaustive list this includes curators Richard Hill, Michelle Jacques, Anna Hudson, Gerald works on paper. This exhibition marks a significant moment, where only three decades McMaster and, most recently, Wanda Nanibush and Georgiana Uhlyarik, launching the Department of ago an exhibition of Inuit sculpture brought Indigenous and Canadian Art, as well as artists Carl forth art critic John Bentley Mays’s question- Beam, Robert Houle, Bonnie Devine and many more ing of the relevance of this work to a gallery who were instrumental in these transformations.

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REVIEW

Getting Under Our Skin The Art Gallery of Guelph MAY 10–SEPTEMBER 5, 2018 GUELPH, CANADA

Katherine Takpannie (b. 1989 Ottawa) — Pro Sealing Rally, featuring Inuit throat singers Leanna Wilson and Tooma Dianna Laisa, Parliament Hill, Ottawa, March 2018 2018 Digital photograph Dimensions variable COURTESY ART GALLERY OF GUELPH

by Emily Jolliffe

Getting Under Our Skin—curated by Andrew Hunter and described as “an important look at the crucial importance of the seal hunt in Inuit culture”—offers just that. The concept is simple: listen to those who understand the realities of living in one of the most food insecure environments and from those whose ancestors have survived some of the harshest and most extreme conditions imaginable. Featuring works by a wide range of contemporary and historical Inuit artists, including selected works from the Art Gallery of Guelph’s permanent collection by Jessie Oonark, OC, RCA (1906–1985), Pitseolak Ashoona, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), Nick Sikkuark (1943–2013), Peter Pitseolak (1902–1973) and more, the show takes an intergenerational and multimedia perspective of Inuit relationships to sealing as told by those who know it and live by it—not, as it is often portrayed, by individuals and organizations lacking first-hand knowledge. Inuit Art Quarterly

The exhibition opens with vibrant photographic scenes by Katherine Takpannie, whose setting would be recognizable to most Canadian visitors. Yet the familiar location of Parliament Hill, best known as a site of national ceremony, is instead occupied by Inuit youth protesting the unfair, uninformed and longstanding sanctions that have been imposed on the seal trade. In these images, Nunavut Sivuniksavut students wear traditional clothing—the amauti’s (woman’s parka) classic form visible—with modern twists. One photograph depicts participants in a pro-sealing rally, performing the traditional Western Arctic song “Scraping Skins,” while clad in jackets made of sealskin. This slippage between the traditional and contemporary evokes a very real sense that this is a critically important, ongoing issue, affecting those currently residing in the North, while serving to frame the remaining work beyond. 66

Adding to the conversation, a vividly composed excerpt from Iqaluit-based writer Aviaq Johnston’s novel Those Who Run in the Sky (2017) brings the intense and intimate connection between hunter and seal into the gallery. “Pitu grabbed a handful of snow from the ice and stuck it in his mouth to melt. . . . He opened the seal’s mouth and transferred the melted snow water by spitting it out in a stream into the mouth of the seal,” writes Johnston. “He did this to thank the seal for its choice to be caught, giving it water so that its spirit would not be thirsty in its next life.” The quote is as delicate and complex as the relationship between the frozen tundra, the floe edge, the Arctic Ocean and the animals and people who call it home. Takpannie’s contemporary images of protests and Johnston’s poetic meditation mix with the colourful, lovingly drawn pattern Cutout pieces for an amautiq, hood and socks Winter 2018

(schematic clothing patterns) (1978) by Jessie Oonark to demonstrate the enduring and intergenerational impact of sealing in Inuit culture. However, it is in award-winning Inuk filmmaker Alethea Arnaquq-Baril’s documentary Angry Inuk (2016) where this voice is strongest. Featuring first-hand accounts and interviews with those most affected by the banning of seal products, the film illuminates the central role that seal has played for generations of Inuit who continue to thrive in harsher conditions than most southerners have or will ever encounter. In Jamasie Teevee’s (1910–1985) Seal Composition (n.d.), a wall is formed by rows upon rows of chubby seals, of which I am sure many hunters have dreamed while waiting for the animal to appear. Around the corner of the gallery’s hallway, Pitseolak Ashoona’s Birds Fighting Over Seal (1975) depicts the many other Arctic inhabitants, aside from humans, who rely on the seal to prosper, while Arnaquq-Baril’s looping documentary plays beyond, functioning as not only the inspiration for the show but the heart of it. In combining works of historical artists selected by four Inuit youth participants—Takpannie, Parr Etidloie, Avianna Ulliaq Alaingaq Mackenzie and Albie Sheldon— with contemporary critique, the show engages viewers in the ongoing dialogue surrounding contemporary sealing, as well as with its immediate relationship to Indigenous rights and the real concerns of food security. What is clear throughout is that the seal has been and remains a central part of Inuit economic, political and cultural sovereignty. And, moving forward, it will continue to shape and enrich it. As much as the exhibition asks us to listen—from the predominance of interviews conducted in Inuktut in Arnaquq-Baril’s documentary to the lucid trailer for Animism (2014) by award-winning musician Tanya Tagaq, CM in which the singer consumes and transforms into a seal while her deep, haunting notes fill the landscape— the didactics are conspicuous in their lack of Inuktut translations. Although the show is mounted in a southern institution and therefore may not receive high numbers of native Inuktut speakers, the voice and language of Inuit has a crucial place in confronting the public. In an exhibition emphasizing the importance of this exchange, should the show not privilege the same discourse it asks from visitors? And has this ambitious collaborative project done all that it set out to do? The lack of inclusion of works created directly from seal is notable in an exhibition where the primary goal is engaging and educating southern audiences to a de-exoticized northern way of life. And although numerous sculptures and works on paper are offered as a stand in for the physical animal, its skin and body are markedly absent. Although the audience is invited to become part of the conversation, interacting with Inuit points of view and voices, the discussion will need to be fostered and continued beyond the gallery’s walls to sustain its intended impact. Ultimately, Getting Under Our Skin left me feeling hopeful for a meaningful change in perspective and the much-needed inclusion of Inuit voices. That is, if we can remember and are willing to listen.

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TRIBUTE

In Memoriam: The Inuit Art Quarterly Remembers

Napachie Sharky (1971–2018)

PHOTO FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Napachie Sharky was a talented carver who created whimsical sculptural works that defied the limitations of stone. Born in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, he is the brother of the well-known and widely collected artist Toonoo Sharky, RCA. As with many young artists, his early inspiration came from observing the work of respected elder artists. After losing his father and grandfather at a young age, Sharky learned important carving techniques from watching his stepfather, the famous stone sculptor Shorty Killiktee (1949–1993), work. Unlike his stepfather, Sharky preferred to work in small scale. Inspired by his environment and the local Arctic wildlife, he made a niche for himself by carving graceful birds positioned in mid-motion and adorned with impossibly thin wings. “Sharky could dazzle with his meticulous and intricate handling of the stone,” says Patricia Feheley of Feheley Fine Arts. “The delicacy of the carving of the wings of a bird underlined their fragility in real life. I always felt that I should hold my breath when handling one of his sculptures.” Birds—whether a falcon, raven, bunting or ptarmigan—became Sharky’s signature subject. He also enjoyed making small human figures undertaking daily activities, as in Man on ATV (2003) and Boy Standing Beside a House (2002), as well as playing sports and even rock climbing. Manager of Dorset Fine Arts John Westren recalls that every now and then Sharky “would amuse us with quirky and humorous figure carvings such as a man catapulted over a derailed snowmobile or a soccer player in the act of an acrobatic back kick.” The artist’s carvings remain among the most sought after of the younger generation of artists from Kinngait. Sharky infused his work with a modern sensibility while still embracing traditional subject matter, a significant part of his broad appeal to collectors and undoubtedly an integral part of his legacy.

Siassie Kenneally (1969–2018)

Inuit Art Quarterly

PHOTO ERNIE BIES

Over the course of her career, visionary artist Siassie Kenneally from Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, produced an incredibly personal body of work that examined modern and traditional life from her own unique perspective. Kenneally’s drawings are a love song to her culture. The artist’s depictions of country foods—freshly harvested berries in a black plastic bag, hot stew overflowing with caribou meat in an enamel bowl, chipped around the edges, a flayed seal carcass sprinkled with fruit—are sumptuous and evocative. Scenes of hunting, fishing, feasting and daily life are perhaps her most unique. Often rendered from above, her drawings appear almost abstract upon first glance and demand that viewers look closely to decipher a familiar scene from an unfamiliar angle. What originally appear to be strange groupings of geometric shapes slowly reveal themselves as a mug of tea, a sewing machine, a baseball cap or rocks in the snow. Kenneally made the familiar mysterious, the mundane exciting and the known unknown. Traditional clothing and tools were another favourite subject for the artist and her work regularly referenced her mother, Mayoreak Ashoona, RCA, also an accomplished graphic artist, carver and seamstress. In 2017 Kenneally was the subject of a solo exhibition at Feheley Fine Arts and, later that year, a feature-length interview between Kenneally and Patricia Feheley titled “All of the Things that I Have Seen” was published in the Winter 2017 issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly. Each of her drawings is a careful recollection that encourages her viewers to look at the world, like she did, from a different perspective. 68

Winter 2018

PHOTO JERRY RILEY

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Ashevak Tunnillie (1956–2018)

“Shaman Helping Fellow Inuit” Mattiusi Iyaituk (1950–) of Ivujivik, Nunavik Made in 2017 for the film: “Atautsikut / Leaving None Behind” Whalebone, caribou antler and stone • 16”H x 25”W x 34”L

Established Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, artist Ashevak Tunnillie grew up in the outpost camp of Aqiatulaulavik and began creating works in stone in 1982. Hailing from a family of established artists, his work was greatly influenced by his father Qavaroak (Kabubuwa) Tunnillie (1928–1993), who had a significant career carving large and intricate works of varying subject matter, as well as his mother Tayaraq Tunnillie (1934–2015). Tunnillie would watch his father work, then mimic his technique. He later involved his own family in the same way, his wife, Sileema, aiding in sanding sculptures and his son Pauloosie Tunnillie following in his father’s footsteps to become an accomplished artist himself. He eventually settled in Kinngait and only recently moved to Iqaluit, NU. Having lived on the land, he had a detailed knowledge of polar bears, a great advantage for an artist taking inspiration from his surroundings. In his sculptures, Tunnillie concentrated on the form and mass of his subject, studying and visualizing his subject beforehand. His carvings possessed a well-crafted simplicity, foregoing fine detail and narrative for an overall clean line. Although he depicted many Arctic animals and some mythological imagery during his career, his name became most associated with his carvings of robust polar bears. These pieces were in great demand by collectors, and the subject of walking polar bears eventually dominated his body of work. “Aside from the sheer beauty of the lines and volumes in his carvings of prowling bears, I have always been struck by how well he captures, in stone, the act of sensing,” says John Westren of Dorset Fine Arts. “His bears aren’t just standing or wandering around, Tunnillie had an ability to express bears that feel the ground they walk on and visibly seek and smell over a great distance.” Tunnillie will be remembered for his careful and meticulous carving, a reminder of the rewards of patient study.

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2018-11-02 11:41 AM

NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

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OPPOSITE

Pudloo Samayualie (b. 1977 Kinngait) — Composition (KCC) 2018 Coloured pencil and ink 50.2 × 65.8 cm

Niap (b. 1986 Kuujjuaq) — ᑲᑕᔾᔭᐅᓯᕙᓪᓛᑦ Katajjausivallaat, le rythme bercé 2018 Mixed media Dimensions variable

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

COURTESY OBORO PHOTO ROMAIN GUILBAULT

Montreal Museum of Fine Arts Acquires Work by Niap and Expands Relationship with Nunavik

Kenojuak Cultural Centre Opens Its Doors in Kinngait

Named after the acclaimed artist Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ON, RCA (1927–2013), the Kenojuak Cultural Centre and Print Shop (KCC) officially opened on September 5, 2018, in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU. The opening celebrations included a large community gathering, which featured a prayer, a flag raising, a qulliq (oil lamp) lighting, throat singing, official tours for the community and more. A country food feast with Inuit square dancing at Sam Pudlat School capped off the festivities. Accompanying the opening were two exhibitions of never-before-seen works from the West Baffin Eskimo Cooperative archives and permanent collection, curated by KCC Manager Louisa Parr Pootoogook and Dorset Fine Arts Marketing Manager William Inuit Art Quarterly

Huffman, which featured a survey of works on paper by Kenojuak Ashevak. “This vital new facility will ensure that we continue to preserve and celebrate the unique Inuit culture of our region,” explains Kinngait Mayor Timoon Toonoo. Construction for the 10,400-square-foot, $10.2 million facility was completed in early March of 2018 by architectural firm Panaq Design Inc. and contractors Kudlik Construction Ltd.—both Iqaluit-based, Inuit-led companies. The KCC includes a state-of-the-art community facility, exhibition spaces and will house the Kinngait Studios. 70

The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (MMFA) in Quebec, deepened its promotion of Inuit art and culture along with its connection to Nunavik with the recent acquisition of work by Kuujjuaq-born, Montreal-based artist Niap (Nancy Saunders) as well as the announcement of a new partnership with the Avataq Cultural Institute. Saunder’s sculptural installation ᑲᑕᔾᔭᐅᓯᕙᓪᓛᑦ Katajjausivallaat, le rythme bercé (2018) was acquired by the museum this summer after clearing an internal committee of museum representatives as well as an external committee comprised of established Montreal-based artists in early June. “We have this will at the institution to best represent the artists of Nunavik and their involvement with the contemporary scene,” explains MMFA curator of Quebec and Canadian Art Jacques Des Rochers, who led the acquisition. “It’s huge for my practice and also for my people,” Saunders says. “To be considered as an artist who just-so-happens to be Inuk, not just tagged as a folkloric artist or Inuit artist and to have my work part of larger discussions of contemporary art is surreal.” The piece will be the first installation work by an Inuk artist to be included in the MMFA’s collection. Alongside the acquisition, the museum and the Avataq Cultural Institute announced a new partnership between the organizations on September 6, 2018. The partnership will see Avataq aid the MMFA in establishing lasting relationships with Nunavik communities, while relocating their offices and expansive collection to various buildings nearby and owned by the museum, to increase the dialogues between both institutions and their surrounding communities. Circumpolar Film Highlighted at imagineNATIVE 2018 From an experimental film out of Sápmi to a fantasy epic from Greenland, the 2018 Winter 2018

NEWS

edition of the imagineNATIVE Film + Media Arts Festival, which ran from October 17 to 21 in Toronto, ON, featured extensive offerings from the circumpolar North. The festival marked the return of familiar faces like Zacharias Kunuk, OC, who, ahead of Isuma’s much anticipated showcase at the 2019 Venice Biennale, screened his new film Kivitoo: What They Thought of Us (2018), sponsored by the Inuit Art Foundation. Other highlights included Lucy Tulugarjuk’s directorial debut Tia and Piujuq (2017), which tells the story of Tia, a Syrian girl new to Montreal, QC, who meets Igloolik-based Piujuq after stumbling across a magic portal, and the international premiere of Greenlandic director Marc Fussing Rosbach’s Akornatsinniitut—Tarratta Nunaanni (Among Us—In the Land of Our Shadows) (2017), a sci-fi adventure that follows friends Nukappi and Mio as they become entangled in an epic battle against an evil angakkoq (shaman) from the parallel dimension Tarratta Nunaanni. 59th Annual Cape Dorset Print Collection Released The 59th Annual Cape Dorset Print Collection was unveiled by Dorset Fine Arts and Kinngait Studios in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU, in early September 2018. The 34-piece collection features a series of new prints and lithographs by Saimaiyu Akesuk, Shuvinai Ashoona, RCA, Qavavau Manumie, Malaija Pootoogook, Cee Pootoogook, Quvianaqtuk Pudlat, Pauojoungie Saggiak, Pitaloosie Saila, RCA, Pudloo Samayualie, Ningiukulu Teevee and Papiara Tukiki. This year also marked the first time sculptor and printmaker Aqjangajuk Shaa, RCA has been featured in the collection since 1961. The full collection was officially launched and available for purchase on October 20, 2018.

The symphony—performed in Cree, Inuktut, Innu, French and English—made stops in Kuujjuaq, Salluit and Kuujjuaraapik and featured Innu and Inuktut vocal performances by Florent Vollant and Akinisie Sivuarapik. Circumpolar Artists and Academics Present at the Art Gallery of Ontario From September 13 to 15, 2018, the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, ON, hosted the inaugural symposium aabaakwaad (it clears after a storm), featuring presentations by leading national and international Indigenous artists, curators and academics. Anchorage– based Sonya Kelliher-Combs spoke with Sobey Award–winning artist Nadia Myre on themes of materiality that spread across both artists’ practices. Later, award-winning filmmaker Alethea Arnaquq-Baril joined Darlene Naponse and Alanis Obomsawin, OC, GOQ to discuss the future of Indigenous filmmaking. Finally, multidisciplinary performance, video and installation artist Tanya Lukin Linklater participated in a panel discussion with artists Archer Pechawis and Kent Monkman, while Dr. Heather Igloliorte spoke with artist and curator Tania Willard and writer Tanya Talaga about communitybased curatorial approaches. Permanent Installation by Couzyn van Heuvelen Unveiled at OCADU On September 26, 2018, a large-scale permanent installation by Bowmanville-based artist Couzyn van Heuvelen opened at the historic George Reid House at OCAD University in Toronto, ON. Completed in 1921, the facility was the first building in Canada constructed specifically for art and design education and currently houses the university’s renovated and expanded

ceramics studio, mouldmaking studio and foundry. Speaking at the opening, van Heuvelen remarked, “Including the artwork in this space sets the tone for what histories are part of art education here at OCADU moving forward.” The installation draws on the stonecuts used in printmaking across the North and was initiated during a residency in Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU. The compositions draw on art historical references, like Henri Matisse’s The Dance (1910), reimagined through the lens of Arctic animals. Kelly Fraser Receives 2019 Indspire Award Hailing from Sanikiluaq, NU, and currently based in Winnipeg, MB, 25-year-old Kelly Fraser was recently announced as one of 12 winners of the 2019 Indspire Awards. The awards recognize the outstanding contributions of Indigenous professionals and youth and will be officially presented at a ceremony in Calgary, AB, on February 22, 2019. “They are an inspiration to their local communities and for Indigenous people across Canada, showing our young people that they can do it too,” says President and CEO of Indspire and Executive Producer of the Indspire Awards Roberta L. Jamieson. Known for her combination of English and Inuktut as well as translation of pop songs like Rihanna’s “Diamonds” into Inuktut, the Juno Award–nominated Inuk musician was cited for her promotion of Inuit language and culture through music. She intends to use the award to assist in funding her third album, currently titled De-Colonize. In addition to her music, Fraser teaches songwriting and Inuktut language lessons as well as aids in organizing Nunavut Hitmakerz— a project which aids underprivileged Nunavummiut youth.

Orchestre symphonique de Montréal Tours Nunavik Across 10 days, between September 9 and 19, 2018, musicians from the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, led by Maestro Ken Nagano, toured Nunavik and northern Quebec with the new symphony Chaakapesh, The Trickster’s Quest. “This creation, a touring and cultural exchange project, constitutes a daring re-imagining of our practices as a modern orchestra,” says Nagano. “By reaching north, we are pushing the physical and artistic boundaries of our practice in order to share, exchange and create exceptional works, reflecting the diversity of our country as well as our current reality of living on shared and sometimes disputed territory.” Exchange

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LAST LOOK

Pudloo Samayualie Kinngait

This drawing, aptly titled Sculpture That I Saw in New York (2016), was created following the artist’s 2016 residency at the Brooklyn Museum and captures a 2002 sculpture by celebrated Ivujivik, Nunavik, QC, carver Mattiusi Iyaituk. The original work, Wearing Her First New Shawl, was spotted by Samayualie at a nearby commercial gallery. After photographing the piece, Samayualie began the drawing when she returned home to Kinngait (Cape Dorset), NU. In a wry twist on the Kinngait Studios artist’s longstanding practice of drawing from photographs, namely landscapes and local flora and fauna, this piece features the added layer of illustrating the artistic creation of a fellow Inuit artist, from another region, in an alternate medium. The resulting work on paper is demonstrative of Samayualie’s signature visual language— defined line work, textured applications of coloured pencil and a well-considered perspectival approach that maximizes movement and dimensionality and often makes strategic use of architectural elements such as windows and posts, or in this case, the slight lean of a central axis. Here, Samayualie faithfully renders Iyaituk’s curving, gestural arms, the incised buttons (or are they stitches?) and the stacked, slightly askew, multitoned stones to reveal, or rather to recreate, a charming portrait of an unnamed subject.

Pudloo Samayualie (b. 1977 Kinngait) — Sculpture That I Saw in New York 2016 Coloured pencil and ink 76.2 × 58.4 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

Inuit Art Quarterly

Winter 2018

LET’S BUILD A QAGGIQ: NUNAVUT PERFORMING ARTS AND CULTURAL LEARNING HUB Qaggiavuut, a non-profit performing arts society, invites you to help us:

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Contact Ellen Hamilton, Executive Director at ellen@qaggiavuut.com or at +1 867-222-5270 to chat about opportunities for sponsorship.

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Art has the power to connect communities and amplify voices. That’s what we’re aspiring to do at TD. Join us for a free tour of the TD Gallery of Inuit Art and Collection. No registration required. Open to the public since 1982, the TD Gallery of Inuit Art represents all regions of the Canadian Arctic. The collection showcases both historically significant and contemporary Inuit artists. Tours organized by The Inuit Art Foundation and led by John Geoghegan, Senior Editor of Inuit Art Quarterly, and Christa Ouimet, Development Manager and the TD Art Collection team. Thursday, January 17, 2019 at 12 noon Thursday, February 21, 2019 at 12 noon Thursday, March 21, 2019 at 12 noon 79 Wellington Street West, Toronto, Ontario. Tours will begin in the main lobby. Duration: 45 minutes. Please note the gallery is not fully accessible. Learn more about why we’re creating shared experiences at www.td.com/connectedcommunities.

Visit art.td.com or TD Gallery of Inuit Art at 79 Wellington St. West in Toronto. ® The TD logo and other TD trade-marks are the property of The Toronto-Dominion Bank.