Inuit Art Quarterly - Indigenous Arctic Futurisms: Ecstatic Futures, Non-Static Cultures

Important Inuit & First Nations Art

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CONTENTS

37.3

Inuit Art Quarterly Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

Front

Features

Back CURATORIAL NOTES

03 Message from the Inuit Art Foundation

60 Radical Stitch curated by Sherry Farrell Racette, Michelle LaVallee and Cathy Mattes

05 From the Editor

TRIBUTE

06 Meet the Contributors

62 Clara Evalik

by Cora Kavyaktok

08 Impact Update

66 News

5 WORKS

14

Indigenous Futurities (as Connections)

by Rámavuol Liisa-Rávdná/ Liisa-Rávná Finbog

LAST LOOK

68 Sissel M. Bergh

by Rámavuol Liisa-Rávdná/ Liisa-Rávná Finbog

CHOICE

16

Anya Enot

by Svetlana Romanova

18

Elizabeth Gordon

by Jessica Kasiama

CHOICE

ARTISTS’ CORNER

22 The Watt Scholarship PROFILE

24 Eleina

by Selina Boan

FEATURE

28 Teaching, Learning and Being

by Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona

Unpacking the meanings behind instructional artwork FEATURE

40 The Shapes of Alaska Native Futures

by Jen Rose Smith How two artists are envisioning the future through their work LEGACY

50 Losing Our History

by Irene Snarby

The importance of preserving the Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat museum

ON THE COVER

Ivínguak` Stork Høegh — Eqqarsaatit // Thought 2023 Digital art © THE ARTIST

LEFT

Eleina’s work station for Land Back earrings, 2022 © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

CORRECTION

The Curatorial Notes article “-miut” in our Summer 2024 issue misspelled the names of Yvonne Moorhouse’s sisters. The correct spelling of their names is Lindsey and Hayley Moorhouse. The IAQ regrets the error.

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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Rachel Martin — I’m Gonna Go Where the Luv Is It Is What It Is 2022 Coloured pencil and graphite 66 × 50.8 cm © THE ARTIST

Front

MASTHEAD PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

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

Executive Director and Publisher Alysa Procida

President Heather Igloliorte Victoria, BC

Guest Editor Rámavuol Liisa-Rávndná/ Liisa-Rávná Finbog

Vice-President Reneltta Arluk Vancouver, BC

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: September 15, 2024 ISSN 0831-6708 Publication Mail Agreement #40050252 Postmaster send address changes to Inuit Art Foundation.

Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to:

Tauttunnguaqti Napatsi Folger Managing Editor Erin Sylvester Associate Editor and Editorial Supervisor Jessica MacDonald

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Secretary-Treasurer Julie Grenier Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette Montreal, QC Linda Grussani Ottawa, ON

Associate Editor Melissa Kawaguchi

Goretti Kakuktinniq Kangiqliniq, NU

Associate Editor Emily Lawrence

Claudette Knight Toronto, ON

Assistant Editor Tiffany Raddi

Michael Massie Kippens, NL

Copy Editor Carly Brooks

Ryan Rice Toronto, ON

Fact Checker Michelle Sones Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Art Director Maegan Fidelino Arctic Arts Summit Platform Managing Editor Charissa von Harringa Colour Gas Company Printing Interprovincial Group —

FOUNDATION

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

Operations Manager Brittany Holliss

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIAL. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION. PRINTED IN CANADA. DISTRIBUTED BY MAGAZINES CANADA.

Artist Services Manager Amy Norman

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.

Program Officer Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk

Inuit Art Quarterly

OPPOSITE

Laina Geetah — Untitled 2023 Coloured pencil and ink 56.5 × 76.5 cm

Executive Assistant (outgoing) Alyson Hardwick

Marketing and Communications Manager Maggie Hinbest Social Media Coordinator Erin Robertson

Awards Manager Paige Connell Artist Portal Coordinator Alessandra Montefiore

Special Projects Officer Leanne Inuarak-Dall Special Projects Officer Malayah Maloney

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Fall 2024

MESSAGE FROM THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION

Thank you for reading the Inuit Art Quarterly and for your continued dedication to Inuit art—we are grateful for your support of our organization and the incredible artists that make our work possible!

In this fast-paced world of social media and technology, we are seeing more engagement from Inuit artists on global sociopolitical issues and increased visibility of existing connections with other cultures and communities. That is particularly evident in this issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly, which we are so grateful to Sámi artist and scholar Rámavuol Liisa-Rávdná/Liisa-Rávná Finbog for guest editing.

The theme of this issue, Arctic Indigenous Futurisms, is timely given the sense of urgency many Indigenous people feel in asserting both cultural and political sovereignty in the current global climate of polarizing political unrest. Though this issue’s writers come from diverse backgrounds, a consistent throughline is the importance of interconnectedness and solidarity with people regardless of creed or culture. In that spirit, we have taken a more expansive view of our mandate and have extended our usual regional coverage to include Indigenous art and artists from Russia and the Lingít territory of Alaska to reflect Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

the importance of cultural exchange across the North and embrace the imaginative experimentation inherent in futurisms.

We feel it is important to support the voices of our contributors and artists. Their strength and candour are what give inspiration to emerging writers, artists and scholars. We are proud to be able to provide a supportive platform where people can engage with the important work being done across Inuit Nunaat and beyond.

Your continued support is deeply meaningful to us but more importantly to the Inuit artists we serve, and you are always welcome to email us at contact@inuitartfoundation.org.

The IAF’s work is possible only with the support of our community. Thank you so much for making opportunities for artists to create, connect and share with the world!

Alysa Procida Executive Director and Publisher 5

Napatsi Folger Tauttunnguaqti Front

Inuit cultural educator Martha Flaherty

©Scott Forsyth

©Jen Derbach

©Jen Derbach

©Dennis Minty

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FROM THE EDITOR

The story of the Sámi, the Arctic Indigenous people that have been colonized by Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia, narrates, in part, the ways our storytellers and creative thinkers connect to the worlds we live in.

Our storytellers, who we know as song makers, and creative thinkers, our dreamers, see the sky, the water and the land through cosmological perspectives that teach them how to feel and work with and between the connections of the world. Embedded in a variation of cultural practices, they realize our collective meanings and ways of being, of doing and of knowing.

This issue of the IAQ is inspired by the many song makers and dreamers who have come before but who also exist beyond and ahead. We see this in Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona’s Feature, which shows us how cultural knowledge has been embedded in works of graphic art and textiles for future generations to learn from. Irene Snarby’s Legacy also looks at the artistic and cultural activism of the past and how it can inform the future of our material and immaterial culture.

Other stories are grounded in the longtime tradition of Indigenous Futurisms in the Arctic that see the possibility of sustainable futures on (and with) the land.

In her Feature, Jen Rose Smith explores potential paths toward sovereign futures through the lens of two Alaska Native artists who engage with storytelling, cultural accessibility and land-based practices, while Selina Boan’s Profile on young Inuk artist Eleina similarly provides possible ways to (re)connect with and on land through beading, embroidery, airbrush painting and more. These stories and the others in this issue present possible connections between people and land expressed in various creative practices within Arctic Indigenous methodologies.

The intention of this issue is to facilitate us as readers moving with and between our lived realities as an interrelational sphere of existence. In this space, home and reality (or ontology) is shaped by the collective interaction between people, land, waters, non-human beings, spirits and other entities. With this as our entry point, these stories ask us: How are the relations of and between land and people expressed— or imagined—in various Arctic Indigenous creative practices and how can these expressions facilitate and/or contribute to the development of possible sovereign futures?

Imagining the possibilities of (seemingly) impossible futures is a long-standing project of Indigenous creative thinkers and storytellers. By referencing their own histories, traditions and knowledge systems, artists are able to present alternative paths beyond colonization—including sovereign futures—that incorporate multiple presents and pasts. Internationally these practices are referred to under the term “Indigenous Futurisms,” coined in 2012 by Anishinaabe scholar Grace L. Dillon. In an Arctic context, they have also been referred to as an “old idea of wholeness” by Sámi scholar Harald Gaski, referencing both their longevity and layered complexity.¹

Rámavuol Liisa-Rávdná/Liisa-Rávná Finbog Guest Editor

Máret Ánne Sara — 1 Ale suova sielu sáiget 2022 Cured red reindeer calves, cotton grass, birch branches and gámasuoidni (shoegrass) 250 × 130 cm

NOTES

Harald Gaski, “Song, Poetry and Images in Writing: Sami Literature,” Nordlit, no. 27 (2011): 33, doi. org/10.7557/13.1804.

PHOTO MICAEL MILLER / OCA © THE ARTIST

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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Front

MEET THE CONTRIBUTORS

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

Demolishing the first purpose-built Sámi museum in the world will break the hearts of many people. With this article, I want the world to know what we are about to lose.”

IRENE SNARBY LOSING OUR HISTORY PAGE 50

JESSICA KASIAMA CHOICE: ELIZABETH GORDON PAGE 18

GAYLE UYAGAQI KABLOONA TEACHING, LEARNING AND BEING PAGE 28

“I love the process of browsing through catalogues of gorgeous Inuit artwork—it’s like browsing through the past. I feel honoured to be able to showcase these pieces and spread their teachings. Writing this article was special to me, as I was able to learn along the way!”

“I am very grateful to have worked with the Inuit Art Quarterly on a piece about work from the mixed-media artist Elizabeth Gordon. It was an encouraging experience that reminded me of how art can invite us to gather with one another. It is a connective tissue that keeps us together.”

This issue’s contributor illustrations are by Hannah Tooktoo Hannah Tooktoo is a multidisciplinary artist from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, who primarily works in painting, jewellery and printmaking. As a tool for storytelling, her colourful works often feature social justice and inspiration from her cultural background, such as regularly featuring local flora, wildlife, traditional stories and people. Tooktoo also uses art as a tool for healing and as a creative outlet.

Visit her IAQ profile at inuitartfoundation.org/Hannah-Tooktoo

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

COVER SPOTLIGHT

IN THIS ISSUE:

Teachable Moments Instruction through Artwork — Imagining Alaska Native Futures Planting Seeds — Grounded in the Past A Case for Preserving the Sámi Museum

JEN ROSE SMITH THE SHAPES OF ALASKA NATIVE FUTURES PAGE 40

“Visiting with Ivalu and Rachel about their art practices and their philosophies toward land, home and community filled me up and left me feeling hopeful and inspired.

What a treat and privilege to talk to the artists themselves about their work that I admire so much and is so beloved, especially by Alaska Native communities.”

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

Ecstatic Futures, Non-static Cultures

Ivínguak` Stork Høegh COVER SPOTLIGHT

CORA KAVYAKTOK TRIBUTE: CLARA EVALIK PAGE 62

Writing for the Inuit Art Quarterly provided me with an understanding of how writers see things, which I hadn’t fully grasped before.

This opportunity shed light on the intricacies and subtleties of creating a story. I suggest that anyone interested in storytelling should give writing a try and experience this captivating process firsthand.”

Check out this issue’s artists at inuitartfoundation.org/profiles Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

In Greenlandic Inuk artist Ivínguak` Stork Høegh’s digital photo collage Eqqarsaatit // Thought (2023), we see a self-portrait of the artist opening her own head, underlaid with a pyrocumulus cloud. Is she being self-referential and making a commentary on mental health and wellness? Is the foreboding imagery of an eruption a commentary on the future of humanity?

Interpretation is an integral part of Høegh’s work. She provokes contemplation in the meaning of her pieces, which often play with the circularity of time and place for Kalaallit. Inserting anachronistic elements into archival images of the people and landscapes of Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), she effectively jars her audience into questioning their preconceived notions of what Kalaallit Nunaat should be and brings to light modern Kalaallit existence.

Høegh attended Det Jyske Kunstakademi—an art academy in Aarhus, Denmark—and is based in Nuuk, Kalaallit Nunaat. She has an extensive and eclectic body of work, including digital art, sculpture and painting. Her work often depicts themes of Indigenous futurity and highlights the exoticism that Westerners project onto the Arctic. As a subtle nod to Afrofuturism, which gave rise to Indigenous Futurism, many of her pieces pull from the same kind of exotification that Africa as a continent experiences, by juxtaposing imagery of African wildlife and plants with arctic scenes and environments.

Eqqarsaatit // Thought is a vision of duality, contrasting the sense of serenity on the subject’s face in soft pink and skin tone with the looming violence in teal. Høegh’s work is the perfect fi rst impression for our issue on Arctic Indigenous Futurisms!

NAPATSI FOLGER

Tauttunnguaqti 7

Front

THANK YOU

Donors make all the difference The Ikajuqtiit Circle changes lives all year long Members of the Ikajuqtiit Circle—those who help—are caring donors who protect and nurture the Inuit art community.

As Ikajuqtiit Circle members, you provide opportunities for artists to explore their practices, learn new skills and grow. You raise global awareness and appreciation of Inuit art. The generous Ikajuqtiit Circle members listed on these pages make all this and more possible. Thank you!

Gifts listed here were made between June 30, 2023, and June 30, 2024.

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

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

THANK YOU

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

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

Joanna Miazga Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Rachel O’Neill Kara Pearce Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price David Pride Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Leslie Reid Eva Riis-Culver Margerit Roger Sheilah Rowe Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Kassie Ruth Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell Paula Santrach Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Paul J. Skahan Joyce and Fred Sparling Charmaine Spencer P. Colleen Suche

Anik Glaude Deborah D. Gordon Linda Grussani Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Jackie Hatherly-Martin and Keith Martin Dianne Hayman Bryan Hellwig Robert Hurst Amy Jenkins Rozanne Junker Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Dr. Claudette Knight M.A. Konantz Katarina Kupca Dr. Simon E. Lappi Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Jacqueline Littlewood Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Roxanne McCaig

Jacek Szulc Jay and Deborah Thomson Émilie Tremblay Gail Vanstone Robert and Brenda Watson Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Elka Weinstein Peggy Weller Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Amanda Whitney Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith and five anonymous donors

Tunisiniq Nunarjjuaq Piuniqsauqumut Circle The Tunisiniq Nunarjjuaq Piuniqsauqumut Circle is a special group of donors who have included a legacy gift to the IAF in their will.

In doing so they will leave a meaningful legacy that supports Inuit artists for generations to come.

Eleanor R. Erikson Judith Gavin Bryan Hellwig Warren Howard

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Bea Zizlavsky and two anonymous donors

Kathleen Lippa Kara Pearce Richard Sourkes Scott White

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Front

THANK YOU

IAF Tunisijut Circle

Monthly supporter Legacy supporter Multi-year pledge supporter Endowment supporter

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

$100,000+ RBC Foundation $50,000–$74,999 The Flanagan Foundation $25,000–$49,999 Terra Foundation for American Art at The Chicago Community Foundation $10,000–$24,999 Adventure Canada The Chodos Family Fund Joe Miller $5,000–$9,999 Eleanor R. Erikson Erik Haites MakeWay Foundation Lewis Auerbach and Barbara Legowski Donor Advised Fund $2,500–$4,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Gabrielle Campbell Clench House Foundation Patricia and Donald Dodds Janice Gonsalves Joram Piatigorsky Paul and Carole Pizzolante ON Kassie Ruth The Herb and Cece Schreiber Foundation Hunter Thompson Ann and Wayne Tompkins $1,000–$2,499 Kristiina and Timmun Alariaq, Huit Huit Tours Ltd. Blair and Tara Assaly Anne and Don Badke Philanthropic Fund Judy Banning Vincent and Barbara Barresi Elise Brais Lisa-Margaret Stevenson Bryan Yvonne Condell

Inuit Art Quarterly

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

Hal Dietz Marian Dodds, in memory of Dedie Dodds Arthur Drache, CM , KC and Judy Young Drache Jon and Valerie Eliassen Fath Group/O’Hanlon Paving Ltd. Patricia Feheley Jennifer Fryer Peter Gillespie, in memory of Ly Solomon on behalf of the Solomon and Gillespie Fund Goring Family Foundation Linda Grussani Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Carol Heppenstall Mark Hirschman Smaro Kamboureli Rawlson King Katarina Kupca Dr. Simon E. Lappi Hesty Leibtag Kathleen Lippa David and Liz Macdonald MacDonald Griffin Charitable Foundation Susan Marrier Kathryn C. Minard, ISA CAPP Lisa Niedenthal Shannon Norberg and Jarvis Hall Susan A. Ollila Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price Sanford Riley Leslie Roden-Foreman Barbara Turner Gail Vanstone Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith

Norman Zepp and Judith Varga and five anonymous donors (1 , 1 , 3 , 3 , 1 )

Illannarijaujut Tunngavinngmit $500–$999 Arctic Co-Operatives Limited Devony Baugh Gary Boratto Anne Borchardt, in memory of Claus Borchardt Tobi Bruce Margaret S. Bursaw, in memory of John Maounis Gordon Davidson James Delaney, in memory of Gerald Nicholas Tighe Kelly Dickinson Kate Doorly Engelstad Family Maxime Fortin Alain Fournier Molly K. Heines and Thomas J. Moloney Bryan Hellwig Mr. Roger and Mrs. Margaret Horton Lori Labatt Ellen Lehman and Charles Kennel Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia Christie MacInnes P. McKeown Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Charles Moss and Dee Fenner Allan Newell Martin Pâquet Don Pether André Picard Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Leslie Reid

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Margerit Roger Joseph Salkowitz, DMD Paula Santrach Celine Saucier David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Westchester Community Foundation Bell-Jacoby Family Fund Jaan Whitehead Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Cathy Wilkes, in memory of David Wilkes and two anonymous donors (2 , 1 , 2 ) $250–$499 James and Marjorie Abel, in honour of Xanthipi Abel Amy Adams Wallace Altes Susan Baum and Robert Ludwig Heather Muir Beecroft Marc Bendick Jean Blane Herbert Braun Margaret Brill-Edwards Sue Carter Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio Michael and Honor de Pencier Foundation Tracey Doherty Sophie Dorais Nathalie Ducamp Keith R. Evans KC Alison Freebairn Iet Frumau Peter and Deirdre Gardner Judith Gavin Gold/Joy Fund (2024) at the Community Foundation for Greater Buffalo Jesse Goodman Deborah D. Gordon Andrea Hamilton Jackie Hatherly-Martin and Keith Martin Dianne Hayman

Fall 2024

THANK YOU

Laurie Herd Ingo Hessel Joanne Hommik Robert Hurst Cana Uluak Itchuaqiyaq, Iñupiaq Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Nancy Keppelman and Michael Smerza Dr. Claudette Knight Val Lem Ann Lesk Jacqueline Littlewood Patricia Logrippo Nagesh Mahanthappa and Valentine Talland Dr. Neil and Elaine Margolis Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Joanna Miazga Robert Michaud Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Quirien Muijlwijk Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Louisa O’Reilly Donna and Hal Olsen Kara Pearce William and Ann Polk Frank Reid and Amparo Maya Dr. Timothy W. Reinig Eva Riis-Culver Bruce Roberts Kerstin Roger Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Sheilah Rowe Susan Rowley Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell Michael Ryan Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Karl-Werner Schulte Michael and Melanie Southern Charmaine Spencer Tom Suber and Cary Griffin Suncor Energy George and Jacqueline Szabo Michel Thabet Jay and Deborah Thomson

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

Lynne and John Eramo Yasemin Eroglu and Hakan Ersoy Andy Fallas Lynn Feasey David and Lauren Feiglin Claire Foussard Joana Fraga Donna Fremont Lisa Frenette Ed Friedman JoAnne and Richard Fuerst Britt Gallpen and Travis Vakenti M. Colleen Glass Anik Glaude Karen Gorsline Dr. Andrew Gotowiec Nelson Graburn, in honour of Aisaki Pallayat Sallumiut Tekla Harms Cary Hart Celia Harte Lisa R. Hartman Debrah and Brian Hirsch Jane Horner Warren Howard Dr. Jacqueline Hynes James and Linda Igloliorte Jeannette Jackson-Thompson, MSPH , PHD Amy Jenkins Sharon Jorgens The Josie Family Melinda Josie Rozanne Junker Jennipher Kean, in honour of Elizabeth O’Grady Anne Kearns Jo-Ann Kolmes M. A. Konantz Larry and Joyce LaCroix Kathryn Lagrandeur Le Grand Élan Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Gordon Leggett Nora Little, in honour of John A. and Irene Little, John F. Little and Mary Jo Little Lois Loewen Daryl Logan Denis Longchamps Dr. Marie Loyer Peter Lyman Laura Macdonald Mike and Cindy MacMillan

Emilie Tremblay Mark David Turner Joel and Evelyn Umlas Peter R. Van Brunt Merri Lea Van Dyke Nicholas Wattson Gord and Laurie Webster Peggy Weller Peter and Mary Wilson Mark and Margie Zivin and three anonymous donors (2 ) $100–$249 Lea Algar-Moscoe Patricia Allen Mary Anglim Diana Antoon Andrea Arnold ART+PUBLIC UnLtd asinnajaq Aspire Adventure Running Barbara Aylett Catherine Badke H. Mary Balint Elizabeth Ball Maddie Beaulieu Christie and Jurg Bieri Catherine Birt Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Hon Patricia Bovey Dorothy Caldwell and William Woods Jim and Mary F. Campbell Kay Cookie Cartwright Shelley Chochinov Cobalt Art Gallery Carol Cole Catherine Cole Charles and Arline Crockford Dr. Anne Croy Ruby Cruz Raymond Currie and Charlene Thacker Currie Fred Cutler Adelle Daviau, in memory of Sadie Angelique Daviau Philip Davis Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Dr. Sara L. Diamond Mathieu Doucette Judith Dowler Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg F. Enright

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Catherine Madsen, in memory of Thomas and Winifred Madsen Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Jure Manfreda Evan and Dustin Maydaniuk Paul Mayer Roxanne McCaig Mary McLaren, in memory of Ian and Bernice McLaren Chris and Katie Medl Alessandra Montefiore David Muir Gary Nelson NunatuKavut full-member Suzanne O’Hara Rachel O’Neill Leon Oberlander Marina Oeler Bonnie Park PayPal Giving Fund Canada Kate Permut Felicity Pope Steve Potocny David Pride David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Mickey Ranalli Elizabeth Robinson Janet Robinson Sheila Romalis, in memory of Lorne Balshine Richard and Yvonne Rothenberg Lise Rousson-Morneau and Yves Morneau Wally Sapach Genevieve Sartor Allan Seiersen David and Lesley Serkoak Divya Shah Paul J. Skahan Michelle E. Smith Joyce and Fred Sparling Harriet Stairs P. Stevens Jennifer Stoots P. Colleen Suche Mark Swartz, in honour of Dr. and Mrs. MJ Swartz and Family Jacek Szulc Charles Tator Diana Trafford Matt Traversy Helen Tremblay Joan R. Truckenbrod

Front

THANK YOU

Anne Vagi Louise and James Vesper Rosalie Walls and Kathy Simas James and Karen Walton Robert and Brenda Watson Lowell Waxman Claude M. Weil, in honour of Jim Shirley Elka Weinstein Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Scott White Amanda Whitney Judy Wolfe and ten anonymous donors (1 , 1 , 1 , 1 , 5 , 1 ) Up to $99 Annie Amaruq Stephen Baker Carolyn Barfoot Mitch Birken Bill Bradley Cedric Brodin CanadaHelps Mark Cheetham Grace Clark Michelle Coyne Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif Anna De Aguayo Josephine De Vincenzo

Wilfrid Denis Paulette Dennis Celia Denov Huw Eirug Jan Fergus Chun Fong Dana Forsman Jessie Fortier-Ningiuruvik Ronald and Anne Foster Paula Frisch Glenn Gear Bill and Sarah Gibbons Susan Godin Ariel Godwin Claire Gold Philip Goldring Kristine Greenaway Susan C. Griswold Mark Gustafson Kathryn Hanna Mary Hanson Kathryn Heller-McRoberts Rosemary Hilton Brittany Holliss Albert and Femmeke Holthuis Karen and David Hood Cynthia Hosick Andrew Hubbertz Shari Huhndorf Cecilia Ignatieff Aphantasia Indigo

Janique Johnson-Lafleur Anne R. Jones Elizabeth Kocmur Magdalene Köppen Bristol Lakshas Jacob Lewis, in gratitude to Dr. Martin Shaw Fae Marie Anne Logie Matthew Lyons and Virginia Claire McGuire Kathy Mallett Geraldine Marshall Carola Marte Ron and Evelyn Matthews Caitlin McIntyre, in honour of Nelson Zabel Colette Meehan Stanley Middlestadt Joyce and Mike Miller, dedicated to the City of Thunder Bay Sandra Miller Sanchez The Honourable Wilfred P. Moore Oliver Moorhouse Scott Mullin Peter Murphy Lucie Nadeau Nanooq Inuit Art Lou Nelson Sue Newman

Peter Noteboom Douglas Palmerton Matt Pierce Anne Pullon Ron and Sigrid Rhodes Marilyn Robinson Louise Rolingher Anita L. Romaniuk Gabriel Rosenberg Judith C. Saeger N. Jerimiah Sappington Janet Savard Bruno Savoie Kathryn Scott Patricia Scott S. Shadick-Taylor Elizabeth C. Smeloff Superstar X Karen Thorne-Stone Feliz Tupe Elizabeth Vadas Mary and George Varley Patrizia Villani Garnet Ward John Weber Christopher and Barbara Wood William Wood and six anonymous donors (1 )

You can make the difference There are more than 13,000 Inuit artists working in Canada today. Many face barriers to making and showcasing their work, but all deserve the same opportunities other artists have for their voices to be heard and their work to be seen.

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

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

To learn more about how to support artists, please contact us at 647-498-7717 ext. 104, visit us online at inuitartfoundation.org/ways-to-give or simply scan the QR code to the left.

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

Ningiukulu Teevee

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

Fall 2024

SHAPESHIFT, 2024, Pastel and coloured pencil, 25 x 38 in.

Join Carole Gobeil, Inuit art enthusiast, Travel Nunavut Board Director (past 8 years) and Arctic Explorer (since 1995) and Leslie Saxon West, Inuit art enthusiast serving the Inuit Art Society (US) and the Arctic Arts and Culture Society (Canada) on this unique Greenlandic Voyage with an optional customized “Museums and Art” extension to Nuuk.

Departure: 17 August 2025 from/to Toronto Discovering Greenland’s west coast with its impressive icebergs, quaint and colorful communities and dramatic fjords, while navigating on a state of the art expedition ship which includes excursions by zodiacs, helicopters and on land.

Take advantage of our special group rates!!

Barse Lyberth Svendsen, Sisimiut

Book by October 30th and we will add a complimentary “Tundra to Table” gastronomic dinner (valued at 170.00cad p.p.) to your reservation.

carole@carolegobeil.ca Arctic travel specialist

Affiliate of Trevello Travel Group Tico# 50026578

373_AD_CaroleGobeil_03.indd 1

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

www.carolegobeil.ca 613 795 2824

2024-08-06 12:09 PM

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5 WORKS

Indigenous Futurities (as Connections)

by Rámavuol Liisa-Rávdná/Liisa-Rávná Finbog GUEST EDITOR

When we enact Indigenous practices and knowledges, we are also creating our futures, achieving the unrealized potentials that our ancestors sought to activate. We ensure that these futures come to pass through the placement of our bodies in the collective and connective spaces we inhabit.

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Elle Márjá Eira

Iđitsilba (2015)

2/

Abraham Anghik Ruben, OC

Origins of Myths: Sedna and Raven (2024)

In Elle Márjá Eira’s Iđitsilba, the character Májjen resists the colonial erasure of the ládjogahpir—the distinctive Sámi horn hat that is a source of female sovereignty and thus banned by the clergy during the nineteenth century. Májjen refuses to comply with the clergy’s demands that the horn hats found in her village be

ABOVE (LEFT)

Elle Márjá Eira — Iđitsilba (press photo) 2015 Short film 12 min PHOTO JOHAN MATHIS GAUP © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

destroyed, so a priest has her bound and brought out onto the nearby lake, where she escapes by entering the water. By freeing herself and refusing to be silenced, she creates sovereign futures—ones that she wants to enact for both herself and the generations to come.

The creative forces symbolized in Origins of Myths: Sedna and Raven by Abraham Anghik Ruben, OC, is an intricate embodiment of connections. With her transformation, the sea goddess provides an abundance of the diverse sea life necessary for the world to be realized. This impression is reinforced by the presence of the raven, whose friendly interaction with the sea goddess symbolizes the harmony of the world, with the sea goddess representing the sea life of the oceans and the raven expressing the land and the sky. The sculpture thus implies an enduring interconnectivity across time and between beings—human and non-human.

ABOVE (RIGHT)

OPPOSITE (TOP LEFT)

OPPOSITE (TOP RIGHT)

OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Abraham Anghik Ruben — Origins of Myths: Sedna and Raven 2024 Steatite 38.1 × 33 × 14 cm

John Savio — Okto (Alene) c. 1928–34 Woodcut 18.9 × 26.4 cm

Outi Pieski — Beavvit - Rising Together II (installation view) 2020 Thread and steel 250 × 250 × 250 cm

Siljá Somby — Bonki (still) 2014 Short film 19 min

COURTESY INUIT GALLERY OF VANCOUVER LTD. © THE ARTIST

COURTESY NASJONALMUSEET PHOTO BØRRE HØSTLAND

COURTESY TATE PHOTO TATE PHOTOGRAPHY (SAM DAY) © THE ARTIST

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COURTESY JULEV FILM AS / FREDRIK MORTENSEN © THE ARTIST

Fall 2024

5 WORKS

3/

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Okto (Alene) (c. 1928–34)

Beavvit - Rising Together II (2020)

Outi Pieski

John Savio

At first glance, John Savio’s (1902– 1938) Okto (Alene) seems to encompass the meaning of its title: “alone” or “loneliness.” The lonely reindeer gazing out on the seemingly empty space is, however, a clever double entendre. In Sámi, okto shares its etymological root with okta/oktavuohta, meaning “one” and “connections” respectively. As such, Okto (Alene) may be

understood as alone, but simultaneously it may also describe relational connections.

What looks to be an empty and lonely expanse can be understood as the world being an interconnected space. This understanding allows for people to become one with their surroundings and connected to the past, present and futures.

Using riessat, the Sámi technique of knotting silken threads, Outi Pieski’s Beavvit - Rising Together II expresses the collectivity of Sámi practices. The work takes part in a complicated system of information in which each knot takes on various meanings, and the combination of multiple knots holds the potential to create stories that are accessible between multiple practitioners and generations. Here another element is added; Pieski invited several practitioners of riessat to help create the knots, so the work itself encourages the coming together of people—celebrating and sharing their knowledge and heritage across the past, present and potential futures.

5/

Siljá Somby

Bonki (2014) Weaving multiple stories across borders of time and space, Siljá Somby’s Bonki tells of three characters: Nils, an older Sámi man with dementia, and his caretaker Karen, who are engaging in Sámi language and practices in the present, while Bonki, a well-known Sámi noaidi (spiritual leader), performs rites in preparation of his own passing, several years in their past. Although the characters engage with their Sámi heritage in different ways, doing so enables them to meet outside of linear time, connecting the noaidi, Nils and Karen and ensuring that these practices are handed down to future generations.

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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CHOICE

Anya Enot Edem

by Svetlana Romanova

Anya Enot — Edem 2020 Oil and oil pastel 82 × 152 cm © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

NOTES 1

All quotes Anya Enot, personal communication with Svetlana Romanova, January 2022.

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CHOICE

related to the mining expansion. Being a resource colony, the Sakha Republic experiences colonization in one of the most palpable forms that is not only sensed but seen and witnessed in the landscape. Eventually these points of contention become our mundane backdrop, where Indigenous peoples’ values, systems of relation and forms of visual expression are controlled by the Russian state’s fantasy of the Great North.

Edem therefore offers a different gestural expression of the infamous fantasy of Siberia, where the North is perceived to be vacant and the Indigenous cultures within it are as transient as the territory itself. As if temperate zones were the only cradles of civilization where humanity excelled and the solid waters of the North were too fragile to hold the registrar of one’s existence. Using this anthropological excuse to dispel Indigenous peoples’ presence, the empire narrativized Siberia into existence—as a territory and a word indicative of its northern location. In reality Siberia holds no cultural backing in its territorial claim, as there is no Siberia or Siberians. There are Sakha, Buryat, Yukaghir, Evenk and other native ethnic groups. The only self-proclaimed Siberians are descendants of the Cossacks.

To reclaim these aesthetics, or ways of viewing life, Anya asks for concreteness and relationality. Her painting Edem oozes with the nostalgia, sadness and dread that is recognizable to every resident of the Sakha Republic. This painting is as territorial as artwork can get.

On the right half of Anya Enot’s Edem (2020), a figure that is familiar to residents of the Sakha Republic (Yakutia), Russia, appears: a woolly mammoth skeleton, symbolically blurred into the omnipresence of societal inequalities. Its head is stretched into an abstraction that outlines and borders the human world from the mythical properties of iconography. The woolly mammoth has long been a symbol of the Sakha Republic, as the only living being exhumed from the cradles of permafrost, proving the presence of the past in the future. But proof of its existence does not give agency to Indigenous presence.

On the left spectatorship as physiognomy is indicated within the faces rendered into skulls. It is as if they are preying on decay through glorifying the past narrativized country. After all, when Russian missionaries and Cossacks came to claim our lands in the Sakha Republic, they were appalled by the absence of God but more so by the absence of faces in our deities.

This perpetual misunderstanding of our icons and gods led the Russian state to control and essentially rewrite the histories of people, their origins and their rights. Anya mimics these political gestations with strokes of colour throughout the painting—the blues of the sky are muted in the event of “discovery,” the browns of the earth adorn “death,” and the greens of the grass evade the “living.”

Cyclicity becomes an epilogue within the norms of capitalism. But the relationality of the emblematic mammoth, even depicted solely in the beauty of its skeletal remnants, becomes symbolic of the Sakha Republic today—as a highly censored territory, conflicted somewhere between the past, future and fantasy.

Anya is from Neryungri, Russia, a coal-mining town located south of the Sakha capital city, Yakustk, which was not an easy place to grow up in the 1990s and early 2000s. “I would get into fights daily because I am Sakha,” she says. “Racial tension was violent and tangible.” 1 These moments of turbulence are closely

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

— Svetlana Romanova (Sakha/Even) is an artist and filmmaker born in Yakutsk, the capital city of the Sakha Republic, Russia, located south of the Arctic Circle. Her practice centres on the importance of Indigenous visual language, particularly in the Arctic, and gravitates towards critical self-historization.

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CHOICE

Elizabeth Gordon Women’s Fellowship

by Jessica Kasiama

Inuit Art Quarterly

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CHOICE

Through specificity and detail, Gordon tells us a universal story of solidarity between women, a bond that is as ongoing as it is ancestral.

Oftentimes art draws the eye to a singular detail, which can serve as a doorway into the work. However, Elizabeth Gordon’s Women’s Fellowship (n.d.) is to be taken in its entirety because, in my interpretation, it is more than something to gaze upon. Spherical in shape, the gourd displays the image of an ensemble of women and children standing side by side. It is functioning both as an inscriptive surface and a vessel or tool, so the line is blurred between art-as-expression and art-as-function.

At first glance the women who greet you on the surface of the gourd may appear similar to—if not exact replicas of—one another. However, Gordon, a mixed-media artist originally from Iqaluit, NU, has implemented subtle differences that ultimately eclipse their uniformity. Their garments have unique detailing, expressed through patterns and cuts specific to each subject. And there are more obvious distinctions, such as the inclusion of children sprouting from the hoods of some of the women’s amautiit, like the growth of a new plant.

Women’s Fellowship offers a seemingly static image, rendered through wood-burning; however, through the repetition of the images, there is a strong sense of movement. The etching wraps around the gourd, reminding me of the paper-people chains I made in childhood art classes. Unlike that nostalgic craft, the women on the gourd are not holding hands.

Instead, they stand shoulder to shoulder, creating an impenetrable wall. Although they are expressionless, their body language speaks volumes. This depiction reminds me of the grandmothers, aunties, cousins and sisters of my lineage. Through specificity and detail, Gordon tells us a universal story of solidarity between women, a bond that is as ongoing as it is ancestral.

The unique qualities of each woman’s appearance are striking. Each wears a distinctive pattern, but as you lower your gaze, you will notice a thread at the hems of their garments travelling between them. The thread creates an undulating line around the gourd, resembling a series of peaks and valleys. The connection to land is enhanced when I think of this within the context of Gordon’s medium of choice. Gourd artmaking is a process that requires attentiveness and patience as you tend to your seeds. The primary materials used come from the earth, and therefore the artist must wait until the gourd is ready to be harvested for use. And you cannot help but think of Gordon’s steady hand as she rendered each figure over and over again, ensuring that no hierarchy or favouritism was expressed.

Women’s Fellowship unifies past, present and future by depicting different generations of women coexisting in harmony. In doing so, Gordon encourages us to preserve our origin stories, even as we contemplate the future. The artist’s use of repetition is powerful, because to repeat is to insist. She expresses this insistence by delicately weaving differences into each figure but ultimately always finds a way to connect them. It is a meticulous project that captures how we are iterations of past selves, ever-evolving and coming into our own. Fellowship is where we ground ourselves.

It is a labour of love that we inherit.

— Jessica Kasiama is a Congolese artist born in Johannesburg, South Africa. Creative writing is her primary medium, focusing mainly on themes of healing, decolonization, sound and spirituality. She is also a bookseller and DJ, working within a community-building framework.

Elizabeth Gordon — Women’s Fellowship n.d.

Wood burn 15.9 × 17.8 × 17.8 cm COURTESY INUIT GALLERY OF VANCOUVER © THE ARTIST

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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Without you, there is no IAQ. Help keep the magazine you love stay in print!

Please donate today to support the production of the IAQ. Give online at inuitartfoundation.org/donate or by scanning the QR code.

ARTISTS’ CORNER

The Watt Scholarship Supporting Inuit education in arts and culture Studying one’s own history and culture is integral to creating a better future. The Inuit Art Foundation strives to support the development of future Inuit leaders in the arts and culture field through the Watt Scholarship program.

Created to help remove financial barriers to education, the program provides $2,500 scholarships to eight Inuit post-secondary students in Canada annually who have a demonstrated interest in art, history and culture. The Inuit Art Foundation funds this

award in partnership with Indspire as part of their Building Brighter Futures program.

This program would not be possible without our generous donors. We thank them for their ongoing commitment to making change.

ABOVE

Annie Pootoogook — Untitled (Print drawing for Pitseolak’s glasses) 2005 Graphite, coloured pencil and ink 50.8 × 60.1 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

ARTISTS’ CORNER

It took me a long time to finally have the courage to leave home and attend a post-secondary program outside of Nunavut. The Watt Scholarship has helped me become less stressed financially. I was able to study and focus more on my schoolwork because I had one less financial problem to worry about. Without the Watt Scholarship, I wouldn’t have made it all the way.”

Rachel Tutanuak ALGONQUIN COLLEGE, 2023–2024 RECIPIENT

I was able to pay for childcare expenses with the funds from the Watt Scholarship. I have been focusing my doctoral studies on art history from Qikiqtaaluk because there are a lot of Inuit artists from the region but not many Inuit art historians who could also speak of the cultures and cosmology presented in Inuit holistic perspectives throughout this region.”

Nakasuk Alariaq CONCORDIA UNIVERSITY, 2020–2022 RECIPIENT

My educational goal is to have a deeper understanding of our first language. This program has helped me to have a better understanding of who I am as an Inuk. It has helped me to have a better sense of my Inukness—my identity—through different programs. It also helped me to have a stronger foundation thanks to the traditional values and knowledge that have been shared to me orally. This Watt Scholarship will further support me financially.

Living on a student budget is tough, especially when you are trying to support your immediate family while living away from home.”

Shelton Nipisar NUNAVUT ARCTIC COLLEGE, 2022–2023 RECIPIENT

The IAF is proud to support Inuit students through the Watt Scholarship and strongly encourages students to apply! Learn more at inuitartfoundation.org/watt Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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PROFILE

Eleina

by Selina Boan

preparing hides, cleaning fish, and plucking and cleaning geese—as entering a flow state and providing her with a sense of belonging. This sense of belonging is significant for her since, having grown up outside of Inuit culture, she often found herself struggling to express herself artistically and questioning what “traditional” means in terms of artmaking. Noting that contemporary Inuit art is showcased less than older works led her to wonder: “What are traditional Inuit beading patterns? What are traditional Inuit motifs? What is Inuit art?” 1 Eleina’s challenges are shared by many Indigenous creatives whose connections to their land, traditions and culture have been disrupted due to colonization.

During Eleina’s archival research to find answers to her questions, she recognized that the work of many Inuit artists was inspired by their everyday lives and everyday objects.

Eleina now feels more comfortable using materials that reflect her everyday life; she explains, “I’ve shifted focus from trying to match the traditional styles to just be inspired by everyday things

Multidisciplinary Inuk artist Eleina grew up in a crafty household in Smiths Falls, ON, where her love for both science and textiles emerged. At eight, she started to sew her own clothes and became fascinated with anatomy, learning to name all the bones in the human body. Today Eleina draws on these passions in her artwork with playfulness and intimacy, firmly grounding her artistic practice in hands-on processes that include beading, embroidery, airbrush painting, sewing and drum making. Her piece Nervous System on Muslin (2019) merges her interests beautifully, using black and red embroidery thread to track the system’s path from the brain to the base of the spine. Embroidered nerve roots branch off the spinal cord and their corresponding nerve fibres flow off the muslin, mirroring their threadlike quality.

Recently Eleina has noticed that blood memories have drawn her toward not only pursuing a neurosurgery degree but also working with hide and other materials in her artmaking. She describes her experiences when working with her hands and animal spirits—

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

PROFILE

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Eleina — Conch necklace 2022 Beads, conch shell and deer hide ALL © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Land Back earrings 2022 Acrylic and jump rings LEFT (TOP)

Eleina airbrush painting an untitled work in progress, 2024 LEFT (BOTTOM)

Nervous System on Muslin 2019 Embroidery floss and muslin Approximately 91.4 × 61 cm RIGHT (TOP)

Plaid earrings 2024 Beads, lambskin and ribbon Approximately 30 × 4 cm RIGHT (BOTTOM)

Pop tab earrings 2024 Beads, recycled pop can tabs and reclaimed button snaps Approximately 15 cm NOTES 1

around me . . . I know I can be contemporary and traditional.” This shift is evident in her Pop tab earrings (2024) as well as Plaid earrings (2024)—a pair of beaded earrings with ribbons that are featured on her Instagram artwork account, @ulluriaq_creations, and were inspired by a shirt she owns. Similarly, she is not shying away from contemporary tools in her artistic practice, expressing, “I love the airbrush, and combining it with textiles and beading really excites me.”

Contrasting textures are becoming prevalent in her artistic work, like the ripples, fluidity and softness of ribbon paired with the firm and unyielding surface of beads. As Eleina prepares to start medical school at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, she continues to experiment artistically. She is currently working on album art for a friend’s band, which will Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

All quotes Eleina, interview with Selina Boan, June 2024.

combine an airbrush painting of an ant with embroidery.

Ultimately Eleina hopes her work inspires other Inuit who are interested in artmaking to pursue it despite their uncertainties. “I hope they see it and they’re like, ‘Oh what? No, they’re doing that? I can do that too.’”

— Selina Boan is a White settler-nehiyaw (Cree) writer and educator living on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territories of the Musqueam, Tsleil-Waututh and Squamish peoples. Her debut poetry collection, Undoing Hours (2021) won the 2022 Pat Lowther Memorial Award and the Indigenous Voices Award for Published Poetry in English. She is a Poetry Editor for Contemporary Verse 2.

This Profile was made possible through support from RBC Emerging Artists.

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and the artists who shape it.

Eldred Allen, Mom's Dickie, 2023.

 PROUD TO SUPPORT INUIT ART

1356 Sherbrooke St. W. Montreal (QC) H3G 1J1 laguilde.com Follow us @LaGuildeMTL

“Resilience” 2024 Manasie Akpaliapik (1955 -) Ikpiarjuk, Nunavut & Ontario Weathered bowhead whale skull,African wonderstone, black stone,Alabaster, Caribou antler, Abalone 74.0” x 59.0” x 26.0”

Visit us online: • Expert Appraisal • Online Gallery • Consignment • Purchase

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

MAT TIUSI IYAITUK - SPIRIT 20 X 18 X 17 INCHES STONE, ANTLER, SINEW CONTEMPORARY & HISTORIC 606 VIEW STREET VIC TORIA, BC 250 380 4660 W W W. M A D R O N AG A L L E R Y. CO M

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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Teaching, Learning

and Being —

by Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona

— translated by Elizabeth Qulaut

ᐃᓕᓴᐃᓂᖅ, ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᓂᖅ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᓂᖅ

— ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑐᖅ ᒐᐃᓕ ᐅᔭᒐᕿ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᖅ

— ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑑᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᖁᓚᐅᑦᒧᑦ

Art is a wonderful teaching medium, especially for visual learners. Learning in Inuit cultures is traditionally passed on by observing and mimicking Elders, highlighting the importance of visual skill acquisition. It’s even codified in the Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit value of Pilimmaksarniq, the development of skills through practice, effort and action.

So it should be no surprise that this didactic approach is also prevalent in Inuit art. ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑎᑦᑎᐊᕚᓘᕗᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᓲᖑᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖏᑦᑎᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᓲᖑᖕᒪᑕ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᔾᔪᐊᖅᓯᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓐᓇᖁᑎᒥᓂᒃ. ᓄᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᑐᖃᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᖕᒥᔪᖅ ᐱᓕᒻᒪᒃᓴᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᒻᒪᒃᓴᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ. ᐅᔨᒪᓇᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐱᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᑦᑎᐊᓲᖑᖕᒪᑕ.

PREVIOUS

Towkie Qarpik — Women Making Whale Oil 1998 Printmaker Enookie Akulukjuk Stencil 43 × 66 cm COURTESY DAVIC GALLERY © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᑕᐅᑭ ᖄᐱᒃ — ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐃᖕᓇᐅᓯᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᐅᖅᓱᐊᓂᑦ 1998 ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎ ᐃᓄᑭ ᐋᑯᓗᒡᔪᒃ ᐅᑭᑎᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 43 × 66 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ

ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᕕᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᖓᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥᑦ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

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Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona — Tiiturumaviit?

2023 Linocut 61 × 91.4 cm © THE ARTIST

ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ

ᒐᐃᓕ ᐅᔭᒐᕿ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᖅ — ᑏᑐᕈᒪᕖᑦ?

2023 Linocut 61 × 91.4 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

ᐊᕐᕌᓂ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒃᑎᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᕈᐊᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᐅᕙᖓ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐅᕙᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᖃᖅᖢᖓ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᓂᓐᓂᒃ. ᑎᕋᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᑏᑐᕈᒪᕖᑦ? (2023), ᐱᖓᓲᔪᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᖅᓴᓕᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᕐᖑᓯᙳᐊᑦ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑕᒃᑲ ᖁᓕᑦᑎᐊᓐᓂ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᒃᑎᑦᑎᔨ ᐅᕙᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᐱᕆᖕᒪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᖕᒪᖔᕐᒪ. ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐸᑦ? ᐃᓱᒪᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓᓕ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖅ “ᑕᑯᒥᓇᙱᑦᑐᖅ” ᑐᑭᓕᐅᑦᑎᐊᙱᓐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑦᑎᓐᓂᒡᓗ ᑕᓱᐃᓇᓱᒃᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓄᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᓕᕋᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓵᙵᒻᒪᕆᒃᑎᓪᓗᑕ. ᓇᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ ᑏᑐᕈᒪᕖᑦ? ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᔾᔪᑎᒋᖃᑦᑕᕋᒃᑯ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑏᑐᖅᖢᑕ ᓄᓇᒦᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᐱᖃᑎᖃᖅᖢᑕ ᐊᑖᑕᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᒪᓂᑦᑐᐊᑉ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓃᖦᖢᑕ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ; ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥ ᓴᓇᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᐃᕐᖑᓯᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓴᐃᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᒪᒥᓴᕐᕕᖕᒥ, ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᒪᒥᓴᕐᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐋᑐᕚᒥ, ᐊᓐᑎᐊᕆᔭᒥ, ᑕᕝᕙᓂᓗ ᑏᑐᖅᐸᒃᖢᑕ, ᐃᓚᓐᓂᒃ ᑏᑐᖃᑎᖃᖅᐸᓚᐅᕋᒪᑐᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᐃᖅᖢᖓ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᐅᑭᐅᓂᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑎᑭᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᓱᕋᒃᓯᓇᓱᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐅᕙᖓ ᐃᓅᓂᕋ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᑦᑕᐃᓕᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᒍ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᒃᑲ ᐃᕐᖑᓯᙳᐊᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ ᐃᕐᖑᓯᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ; ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᓐᓇᓱᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᑭᑦᑑᒐᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᓐᓇᓱᒃᐸᕗᑦ ᐃᓚᒌᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕗᓪᓗ ᐊᓯᐅᑎᑦᑕᐃᓕᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᑭᖃᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᓂᖅ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ— ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ—ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓛᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᖕᒪᑕ: ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᓐᓇᕋᑦᑕ, ᐊᑐᖅᐸᒡᓗᒋᓪᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᕈᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᕋᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᖢᑕ ᒪᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᙳᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᒥᖅᓱᙳᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅᓱᕋᓱᖕᓂᖅ, ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᓂᖅ ᑕᕝᕙᓂ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᑦᑕᐃᓕᓂᕐᒥᒃ, ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᓱᐃᓇᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᑐᐊᓂᒃᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ, ᒫᓐᓇ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᑦᑎᓐᓂᓪᓗ.

Last year I was a guest speaker at an art history class.

I selected some of my own artworks to present on screen while I spoke about myself, my artistic journey and the inspiration behind my work. My print Tiiturumaviit? (2023), which features six colourful tea mugs, was on screen above me when the lecturer asked why I use mundane objects in my artwork. What is the significance of those particular objects?

I thought “mundane” was a strange way to describe continuous resistance and cultural sovereignty amid the suffocating trajectory of colonialism. I made Tiiturumaviit? because it reminds me of hunting and drinking tea on the land with my dad and grandma near Qamani’tuaq (Baker Lake), NU; I made the original image while teaching art as therapy at Mamisarvik, an Inuit-only addictions healing facility in Ottawa, ON, where we spent time drinking tea together, just like I’d done with my family so many times.

After over a century of colonization and attempts to destroy Indigeneity, my existence is resistance, and those tea mugs tell that story. They are recognizable to other Inuit, there to show us that our way of life endures. Small, shared moments of being together and within our own culture carry so much meaning.

Similarly, it’s why didactic artworks—those meant to teach and inform—are important: with them we can learn from, live in and carry on Inuit-specific mindsets and skills ourselves. By depicting sustainable activities like harvesting, sewing and self-reliance, the artworks in this Feature can teach future generations much larger concepts like anti-capitalism, cultural sovereignty and the continuation of our Inuit lifestyles in the past, present and future.

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

31

Teaching, Learning and Being

Marion Tuu’luq — Dismembered/ Remembered 1980 Embroidered duffle, felt and thread 69.6 × 75.7 cm

ᒥᐊᕆᔭᓐ ᑑᓗᖅ — ᓇᒡᒍᐃᔭᖅᑕᖅ/ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ 1980 ᑕᖅᓯᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᔭᐸᒃᓴᖅ, ᒥᖅᓱᒐᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᕙᓗ 69.6 × 75.7 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ

COURTESY UNIVERSITY OF ALBERTA MUSEUMS ART COLLECTION © THE ARTIST

ᐱᑎᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᓯᓚᑦᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᖅ ᐋᓪᐳᑕᒥ ᑕᑯᔭᖓᕋᕐᕕᐊᓂᑦ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

The title of Marion Tuu’luq’s, RCA, LLD, (1910–2002) nivingajuliat Dismembered/Remembered (1980) is spot on and sounds like a very short poem. She has sectioned the artwork into four quadrants.

The bottom two contain animals and pieces of them: birds and their wings and feet beside fish, bears and seal parts. In the top left there are animal pieces as well, but more dismembered than the other two depictions, featuring caribou heads, antlers and bones.

The pieces of animals in these three sections show how we butcher and use every bit of them. Meanwhile in the top right quadrant, Tuu’luq shows these animals’ usefulness to us by depicting what the dismembered animals become: parkas, amautiit, fur pants, kamiit, pualuuk and a tupiq. The clothing is spread out on the ground like the garments have been taken out to dry in the sun, another small lesson left for the viewer: keep your wardrobe fresh!

Tuu’luq’s sewing of the duffle animals and clothing items mirrors the sewing it would take to create these garments out of fur and skin. I’m sure the artist was able to ruminate on days spent hunting and fishing, catching these delicious animals, and the time spent creating clothes for her family.

Many settlers are horrified by butchered animals, but I think this piece conveys the reverence that Inuit show toward what we hunt: Tuu’luq remembers and honours the warmth, food and shelter that animals provide for Inuit by sewing their likenesses into the nivingajuliat. The work perfectly exemplifies Inuit worldviews: the feeling of connection to the land and its bounty, using every part of the animal and tapping into the sensation of creation.

ᓂᕕᖓᔪᓕᐊᕆᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ ᑑᓘᑉ RCA, LLD, (1910-2002) ᑕᐃᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ (1980) ᓲᕐᓗ ᓇᐃᑦᑑᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖓ ᑎᓴᒪᐅᓕᖅᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᑕᖓ. ᕝᕙᓂ ᓂᕕᖓᔪᓕᐊᖓᓂ ᐊᑖᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᙳᐊᑦ: ᑎᖕᒥᐊᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓱᓗᙳᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓯᒐᔮᙳᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᙳᐊᑉ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓃᖦᖢᑎᒃ, ᓇᓄᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᑦᑎᙳᐊᑦ. ᓛᓂ ᓴᐅᒥᐊᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᙳᐊᖑᖕᒥᔪᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑐᒃᑑᑉ ᓂᐊᖁᙳᐊᖏᑦ, ᓇᒡᔪᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᐅᓂᙳᐊᖏᑦ. ᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᑦ. ᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐋᒃᑐᐃᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒍᑦ ᓂᕆᕙᒃᖢᑎᒍᑦ: ᔭᐸᐃᑦ, ᐊᒪᐅᑏᑦ, ᓯᓚᐹᑦ, ᑲᒦᑦ, ᐳᐊᓗᐃᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᐱᖅ. ᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ ᒪᓂᖅᑲᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᐸᓂᖅᓯᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓯᕿᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᐳᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᕙᒃᑐᓄᑦ: ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑎᑦ ᓴᓗᒪᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ! ᑑᓗᑉ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᖢᓂ ᑕᖅᓯᖅᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᒥᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᕗᖅ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖃᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᖃᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᒪᒪᖅᑑᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐊᕆᕙᒃᖢᓂᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᒥᓄᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᑦ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᒻᒪᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᓚᒃᑐᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒑᖓᒥᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᓚᒃᑐᐃᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᖑᔭᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᐊᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᓂᕿᒋᓗᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᐱᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ: ᑑᓗᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑦ ᐅᐱᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂᒋᓪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᑦ ᐊᖑᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐅᖅᑰᔾᔪᑎᒻᒪᕆᐅᖕᒪᑕ, ᓂᕿᒋᓪᓗᑎᒍᓪᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗᒋᔭᐅᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓂᕕᖓᑕᓕᐊᖑᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᐳᑦ. ᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᐅᔭᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᒋᔭᖏᑦ: ᓄᓇᒧᓪᓗ ᐃᓚᐅᓂᕆᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ, ᐊᑐᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᑦ ᑭᓱᓕᒫᖏᓐᓂᒃ.

Inuit Art Quarterly

32

Fall 2024

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

33

Teaching, Learning and Being

Kananginak Pootoogook — Making Sealskin Kamiks 1987 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 52.1 × 64.8 cm COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO LIANED MARCOLETA © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

ᑲᓈᖏᓐᓇᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ — ᕿᓯᖕᒥᑦ ᑲᒥᓕᐅᖅᑐᖅ 1987 ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᓂᕕᐊᖅᓯ ᑎᓯᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᓂᖅ 52.1 × 64.8 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᐃᓂᐸᐃᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂᑦ-ᖃᐅᒪᔪᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᓕᐊᓐ ᒪᑯᓕᑕ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

34

Fall 2024

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

Kananginak Pootoogook’s, RCA, (1935– 2010) 1987 lithograph Making Sealskin Kamiks is special because, in content and presentation, it bridges time between the old days and more contemporary culture.

A woman sits on the floor threading a needle, sewing a kamik in her lap. Around her lies a finished kamik, mittens with liners, a four-braided tie, ulu, sharpener, thimble, scissors, fur offcuts and embroidered kamikpaak, or duffle sock liners.

Kamiit are made the same as they always have been, but her clothing is indicative of the time the print was made: she wears a traditional amauti, but it is made of fabric rather than skins and paired with a knee-length floral skirt, which was fashionable in the 1980s. Nowadays arnait usually wear jeans or insulated pants with their amautiit.

When Inuit predominantly lived on the land, there was a superstition that any image drawn on the iglu window or snow would come to life and haunt the person.

So folks didn’t draw much, and when co-ops started providing drawing materials and encouraging people to draw, Inuit most commonly drew flat scenes without

foreground or background. Most early drawings and prints were done the way we made clothing patterns: with the image in our mind, precisely, in one singular motion with sure lines—think of famous early works from Luke Anguhadluq (1895–1982); Jessie Oonark, OC, RCA, (1906–1985); or Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ONu, RCA, (1927–2013).

Here the woman and the items on the ground beneath her are rendered in three-quarter perspective, while behind her— in what should be the background—are flat schematics of dried sealskins with kamik pattern pieces cut out of them. The pieced black and grey sealskins show future sewers where the pieces should be placed to achieve the correct fur direction and colouring. The bleached white sealskin is shown whole—the two holes in it represent only where the front flippers are removed when skinning the seal.

I love how Pootoogook combined these two types of representation and perspective, mixing the content of the image with the style it’s drawn in. Pootoogook shows evidence of the continuation of Inuit culture through time, using traditional and modern tools to achieve a traditional objective: care and warmth.

ᑲᓈᖏᓐᓇᖅ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ (1938-2010) 1987-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑲᒥᓕᐅᙳᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓ, ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖃᕐᒪᑕ. ᕐᓇᖅ ᓇᑎᕐᒥ ᐃᒃᓯᕚᖅᖢᓂ ᓄᕕᓯᓇᓱᙳᐊᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᒥᖅᑯᑎᒥᒃ, ᒥᖅᓱᖅᖢᓂ ᑲᒥᒃᓴᕐᒥᒃ. ᒫᓂᓗ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓂᑦᑐᑦ ᐱᐊᓂᒃᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᒦᑦ, ᐳᐊᓗᐃᑦ ᐃᓗᐹᕈᑕᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᐱᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᕐᓗ, ᐅᓗ, ᐃᐱᒃᓴᐅᑦ, ᑎᑭᖅ, ᑭᔾᔭᐅᑏᒃ, ᒥᖅᑯᓖᓪᓗ ᐃᓚᒃᓴᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᖅᓯᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᒥᙳᐊᑦ, ᐅᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᓕᖅᓯᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑲᒦᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᐳᖅ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᖄᓗᒃ ᓱᓕ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑭᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑕᐅᓂᖓᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓐᓂᖓᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ: ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᖅ, ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᕙᒃᑕᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᓕᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᕋᓗᐊᖅᖢᓂ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒪᐅᑏᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᕐᓕ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᕐᓂᒡᓗ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᖃᑦᑕᕈᓃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᑐᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᑭᔪᒥᒃ ᓰᖅᑯᖓᓄᑦ ᑎᑭᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᕐᓇᙴᔾᔪᑎᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᑐᖅᐸᒃᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ 1980-ᖏᓐᓂ. ᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᕐᓕ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᖃᕐᓕᒃᓯᒪᖃᑦᑕᓕᕐᒥᔪᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᕋᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᐅᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐃᒡᓗᑦ ᐃᒐᓛᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᐳᒻᒧᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖁᔭᐅᕙᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᙳᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᖃᕐᓂᕋᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ

ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᓗᐊᖅᐸᓚᐅᙱᓚᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ ᑯᐊᐸᖃᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖁᔨᕙᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᔪᖕᓂᖅᓴᐅᓚᐅᖅᐳᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᒃᑰᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖑᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᕕᓃᑦ ᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓱᕐᓗ ᐆᒃᑐᑎᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ: ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᒃᖢᑕ, ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᑦᑎᐊᕋᓱᒃᖢᑕ— ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᓴᐅᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑑᑉ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓘᒃ ᐊᖑᓴᓪᓘᑉ (1895-1982); ᔭᓯ ᐅᓈᖅ, OC, RCA, 1906-1985); ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ ᐊᓯᕙᐅᒃ, CC, ONu, RCA, (19272013), ᑎᑎᕋᔭᖅᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑕᕝᕙᓂᓕ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ ᒪᓂᖅᑲᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᕗᑦ, ᑐᓄᐊᓂ— ᓇᔪᖅᑕᖓᓃᓪᓗᐊᖅᑐᑦ—ᕿᓰᑦ ᐸᓂᖅᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᒥᒃᓴᐃᑦ ᐆᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᒫᓃᒃᑭᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᓰᑦ ᕿᕐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᕿᕐᓈᖓᔪᓪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᒫᓃᒃᑭᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᓗᐊᕐᓗ ᕿᓯᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓗᐃᑦᑑᓪᓗᓂᓕ—ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐊᖕᒪᔫᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᒋᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᓕᕈᙳᐊᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓂᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᓚᒃᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓇᑦᑎᖅ. ᐱᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᒃᑕᖏᑦ ᑲᑎᓯᒪᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᖕᒪᑦ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᑐᖃᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ. ᑐᒍᖅ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᖕᒪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑕ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒡᓗ ᑲᒪᒋᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᖅᑰᓪᓗᑎᒡᓗ.

35

Teaching, Learning and Being

Martha Noah’s Fish in Weir (1993) has the perfect composition. The subject, the weir, takes up the whole of the dark river background, and each fish is lovingly placed to fill the void left by the circular shape, perfectly taking up all usable space on the duffle. Using space to its full potential strokes something in my brain the right way, and it must stem from cutting clothing patterns out of hides.

Keep in mind, hours of work had already gone into catching, skinning, fleshing, drying and sketching before it was time to cut pieces, so cutting skins is high stakes. This is where the surety, decisiveness and confidence to create accurate lines come in.

I doubt Noah needed a pattern or template, simply cutting out the rocks and fish she saw in her mind’s eye.

Her nivingajuliat features colourful rocks shown from overhead, a draftsman’s blueprint for how to construct a fishing weir.

The fish caught inside are depicted from the side: the mixing of perspectives that, again, I love Inuit art for.

Fishing weirs are constructed in rivers when the fish are running. In the early summer, fish swim upstream to spawn and downstream later in the year. The circular shape is made to corral them into a condensed area. Since their instincts tell them to swim in only one direction depending on the time of year, the fish won’t swim back out of the open end of the weir. They are then speared by a group of Inuit with kakivat, thrown ashore, cleaned, dried and cached. In the subsistence days, the whole family or group would take part in the activity. Fish were plentiful during the run and everyone helped prepare for the upcoming winter.

So while this might seem to some an uncomplicated and cheerfully coloured artwork, here Noah demonstrates her confidence in creation and inherent artistry and gives a blueprint for weir construction: instructions for the next generations of fishing enthusiasts.

ᒫᑕ ᓄᐊᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖓ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᓴᐳᑎᓗ (1993) ᐱᒻᒪᕆᖕᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ. ᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᐳᑎ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᕐᓈᖓᔪᒥᒃ ᐃᒪᙳᐊᕐᒥᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᙳᐊᑦ ᑕᕝᕗᙵᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᓴᐳᑎᒧᙵᙳᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᕕᒃᓴᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᕕᒋᑦᑎᐊᕆᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᐃᓱᒪᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ, ᐆᒃᑑᓯᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᙶᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᔪᖅ. ᐅᔨᒪᒋᐊᖃᖅᐳᓯ, ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᑖᔅᓱᒥᖓ ᓂᕕᖓᑕᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᖅ ᓲᕐᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑐᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᒥᒃ ᐱᒑᖓᑦᑕ ᐋᒃᑐᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᐸᓂᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒥᖓ, ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᒥᖓ ᐸᓂᐊᓂᒃᑳᖓ ᐆᒃᑐᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐋᓐᓄᕌᒃᓴᒥᒃ. ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᑦᑎᐊᓲᖑᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᒥᕐᓂᒃ ᕿᓯᖕᓂᒡᓗ. ᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᓄᐊ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᖃᕆᐊᖃᓚᐅᕋᓱᒋᙱᓚᕋ, ᐅᔭᖅᑲᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᑎᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᒡᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᒥᓂᒃ. ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᓂᕕᖓᑕᐃᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑦᑎᐊᓲᖑᒪᑕ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᐅᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᔭᕋᙳᐊᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᐳᑎᓂᒃ. ᖃᓗᐃᓪᓗ ᓴᐳᑎᒧᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᓲᕆᔭᒃᑲ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᑦ. ᓴᐳᑏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓲᖑᔪᑦ ᑰᖕᒥ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓕᕌᖓᑕ. ᐅᔭᙳᓵᕌᖓᑦ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᑕᑉᐸᐅᒐ ᐃᖏᕐᕌᓱᖑᔪᑦ ᓱᕙᐃᔭᓕᕌᖓᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐅᓄᖓ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐅᑭᐊᒃᓵᖑᓕᕌᖓ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᖕᒪᓗᖅᑰᔨᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᐳᑎ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓄᑦ ᓈᒻᒪᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑦ. ᐅᔨᒪᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᑕᐅᓰᓐᓇᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓲᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅ ᒪᓕᒃᖢᒍ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᐊᓂᔾᔮᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᓴᐳᑎᐅᑉ ᐃᓱᐊᓄᑦ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᑲᑭᕙᒃᑕᐅᓲᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᑕᕝᕙᓃᓕᕌᖓᑕ ᓴᐳᑎᒥ ᓄᓇᒧᓪᓗ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᕐᕋᕕᖏᓪᓗ ᐲᔭᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᔅᓯᓕᐊᖑᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ ᕿᖕᓂᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᙳᖅᐸᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᓛᕐᒪᑕ. ᓇᒥᑦ ᐆᒪᓇᓱᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐃᓚᒌᓕᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓲᓱᖑᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ. ᖃᓗᖃᑦᑎᐊᓕᓲᖑᔪᖅ ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓕᕌᖓᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᙳᖅᐸᑦ ᓂᕆᓛᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᓲᖑᖕᒪᑕ. ᐃᓄᖕᓄ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖅᑰᔨᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒍ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᖅᓴᖃᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᖓ, ᓄᐊ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑎᑦᑎᓲᖑᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᖓᑎᒍᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᖃᓄᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᐳᑏᑦ: ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔾᔪᑎᒃᓴᐅᓗᑎᒃ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᒃᐸᖕᓂᐊᖅᑐᓄᑦ.

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

Martha Noah — Fish in Weir 1993 Wool duffle, wool felt and embroidery floss 60 × 85 cm COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO ERNEST MAYER © THE ARTIST

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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ᒫᑕ ᓄᐊ — ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᓴᐴᓗᑕᓂ 1993 ᔭᐸᒃᓴᖅ ᐃᔾᔪᔪᖅ, ᒥᖅᓱᒐᒃᓴᖅ ᐃᔾᔪᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑕᖅᓯᖅᓲᑎᑦ 60 × 85 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᐃᓂᐸᐃᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂᑦ-ᖃᐅᒪᔪᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᐅᓂᔅᑦ ᒪᐃᔭᒧᑦ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

Teaching, Learning and Being

Jessie Oonark — Cutout pieces for an amautiq, hood and socks (schematic clothing patterns) 1978 Coloured pencil 38.1 × 56.4 cm COURTESY MACDONALD STEWART ART CENTRE COLLECTION AT THE ART GALLERY OF GUELPH © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

ᔭᓯ ᐅᓈᖅ — ᐆᒃᑑᑎᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒧᑦ, ᓇᓴᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᓕᖅᓯᖕᓄᓪᓗ (ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓄᑦ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᑦ) 1978 ᑕᖅᓴᓖᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᑦ 38.1 × 56.4 ᓴᓐᑕᒦᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᒪᒃᑖᓄ ᓯᑐᕙᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᒍᐊᓪᒥᑦ © ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎ

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The epitome of didacticism: Jessie Oonark’s, OC, RCA, (1906–1985) Cutout pieces for an amautiq, hood and socks (schematic clothing patterns) (1978). Not only is this piece visually stunning and highlights Oonark’s love for symmetry, the artist has created something that could literally be enlarged and cut out to use as a clothing pattern.

Although not all pattern pieces are included, the amauti pieces illustrated here are the style shown in many of Oonark’s artworks, like Woman (1970), with the middle piece showing the fringed akuq shape. Fringe along the bottom edge of a parka or amauti is added to protect the wearer from cutting winds while still allowing leg movement. The long pieces at the top on the outer edges are for the side of the long hood that is signature to my region, Qamani’tuaq.

One of the amazing things about working in Inuit art is the impetus to learn things about my own culture and to increase my language skills in the process. I knew most of the amauti shapes, and the sock patterns on the bottom edges are pretty self-explanatory, but I wasn’t sure what the circular piece with what looks like a handle in the middle is called or what it is for.

So I messaged my sister and learned that the mystery piece is called a makkaq and it is the underside of the baby pouch. How cool to learn while in the midst of writing an article about the teachings of art, reinforcing the value that didactic artworks like this carry.

I’m so grateful to Oonark, my amauq, my great-grandmother, for immortalizing her seamstress skills for future generations like me!

— Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona is an Inuit multidisciplinary artist and writer based in Ottawa, ON. Her work includes knitting and ceramics, prints and major visual art commissions, incorporating everyday objects that have symbolic meanings for Inuit, which she reframes through a modern lens. In 2023 Kabloona was shortlisted for the Kenojuak Ashevak Memorial Award.

ᓱᖅᑯᐃᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᓇᓱᖕᓂᖅ: ᔭᓯ ᐅᓈᑉ, OC, RCA, (1906-1985) ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖓ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒃᓴᒧᑦ ᐆᒃᑑᑎ, ᓇᓴᙳᐊᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓕᖅᓯᙳᐊᑦ (ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓄᑦ ᐆᒃᑑᑏᑦ) (1978). ᑯᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ ᐅᓈᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖓ, ᐅᓈᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖓ ᐊᖏᒡᓕᒋᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᒃᓴᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓄᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑭᖅᓯᒪᙱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐆᒃᑑᑏᑦ, ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᓈᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖓ, ᐊᕐᓇᐅᑉ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖓ (1970) ᕿᑎᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᖅ ᓂᒡᔭᙳᐊᓕᒃ ᐊᑯᐊ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᐅᑉ. ᐸᐃᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑏᓪᓗ ᓂᒡᔭᖃᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓄᕆᒧᑦ ᕿᐅᔾᔭᐃᒃᑯᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ. ᓐᓇᓕ ᑕᑭᔫᓪᓗᓂ ᓇᓴᖓ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᒃᑯᑕᐅᕗᖅ ᐅᕙᖓ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᖃᒪᓂᑦᑐᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᑎᑐᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑎᒻᒪᕆᐅᖕᒪᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᑐᖃᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ. ᐅᔨᒪᔭᕋᓗᐊᒃᑲ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᐅᑉ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᖏᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓕᖅᓯᑦ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᖏᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓗᐊᙱᑕᕋ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᕆᐊᒃᓴᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᖕᒪᓘᔭᖅᖢᓂ ᐃᒻᒪᖃ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᕐᕕᐅᖅᑰᔨᔪᖅ ᑭᓲᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᖔᑦ. ᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᖓᔪᒐ ᑎᑎᕋᕐᕕᒋᓚᐅᖅᐸᕋ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᕆᐊᒃᓴᖓᓂᒃ ᓱᓇᐅᕙ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᕙᒃᑐᖅ ᒪᒃᑲᖅ ᑕᒫᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᐅᑉ ᑐᓄᐊᓂ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᑉ ᐃᓂᒋᕙᒃᑕᖓᑕ ᓯᓚᑖᓃᑦᑐᖅ. ᐅᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᒐ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᐸᒃᖢᖓᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑕᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᔭᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᐅᓈᖅ, ᐊᒪᐅᕋ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᑎᒻᒫᖓ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᓕᐅᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄ ᑭᖑᕚᕆᔭᐅᔪᑎᒍᑦ!

— ᒋᐊᓪ ᐅᔭᒐᕿ ᖃᑉᓗᓈ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂ ᐋᑐᕚᒦᖦᖢᓂᓗ, ᐊᓐᑎᐊᕆᔭᒥ. ᓇᕙᒃᑕᖏᑦ ᓄᕕᖅᓴᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒪᕋᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓲᖑᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᑦ ᑕᑯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ, ᑖᔅᓱᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᑕᑯᕙᓪᓕᐊᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᐸᒃᖢᓂᒋᑦ. 023ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᖅ ᓂᕈᐊᖅᑕᐅᔪᒃᓴᙳᖃᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑭᓄᔪᐊᖅ ᐋᓯᕙᐅᑉ ᐃᓕᑕᕆᔭᐅᔾᔪᑎᖓᓄᑦ.

Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

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Teaching, Learning and Being

THE SHAPES OF ALASKA NATIVE FUTURES —

by Jen Rose Smith

The concept of Indigenous Futurisms places the well-being of Indigenous peoples at its core, imagining futures where Indigenous peoples reclaim agency and sovereignty over their cultures and homelands. For years artists have used various creative forms to envision how this might take shape. In this Feature, Jen Rose Smith sits down with artists Rachel Martin and Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich to discuss Indigenous Futurisms within an Alaska Native context.

Their conversations reveal themes of humour, storytelling, cultural accessibility and land-based practices as these Alaska Native artists and thinkers imagine future possibilities and explore art’s potential to bring these visions to life.

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Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Ukalliq in the woods 2024 Digital photograph

Rachel Martin — Believe the Rumors 2023 Coloured pencil 49.5 × 64.8 cm

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Kuukmiñ (From the River) 2023 Basswood, acrylic paint, glass beads and audio Dimensions variable

ALL © THE ARTISTS

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Fall 2024

fitting white tank top, red nails and the head of a wolf completed in the distinctive Northwest Coast style of formline. Her feet are tucked under her as she sits in repose, wolf eye to the viewer.

When I ask Martin about futures, she replies that shared laughter and the connection we build through that laughter is what secures our futures.

Ivalu said she considers the present, presence and permanence in her work, as she’s interested in working toward Arctic Indigenous presence as perpetual. While the future is always a consideration, she is careful not to compromise the present and its centrality in her work. Ivalu tells me, “Subsistence lifeways don’t allow us to leave the present so much.” 2 This sentiment aligns with Ivalu’s carving practice that features animal kin from her homelands such as natchiq (seal), iqalukpik (salmon) and tatirgak from Troth Yeddha’ with mannik (crane with eggs). Her people’s relationship with animals, how they are hunted and processed for sustenance, and the protocols within that are at the heart of Ivalu’s work. In her carving installation Kuukmiñ (From the River) (2023), made for the exhibition How to Survive at the Anchorage Museum (2023–2025), two whale rib bones carved from basswood frame a school of eight salmon. Each carved salmon and whale bone is adorned with blue beads hanging down in singular and connecting strands; a spoken word poem titled “Pin Bones” (2023) also accompanies the carvings.

Ivalu says that the piece is meant to put the viewer in the perspective of the river or riverbed under the salmon, looking up. She upends a

During a heatwave in July 2024, I drove to the ocean to escape the high temperatures roasting the city of Seattle, Washington. Near the cooling relief of Coast Salish waters that connect further north to my homelands in Alaska, I had the privilege to speak with two Alaska Native artists, Rachel Martin and Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich, about their drawing and carving practices, respectively, and Indigenous Futurisms. For me these conversations came at a crucial time: as someone challenged by the heat, the more regular hot and blistering days as a result of climate change easily sink me into apocalyptic feelings. Yet, Martin, who is an enrolled member of the Tlingít (Lingít) Native Nation, and Ivalu, who is Koyukon Dené and Iñupiaq, deliver distinct forms of artistic storytelling that help us imagine ways of acting right in an assurance of our shared present and collective futures. Both artists create work centred in and of Alaska, practicing both within their physical, material homelands and beyond.

For me, Alaska Native futures can be broad and perhaps not as spectacular as science fiction worlds, for example, though those are also important. The future takes place in the everyday, in the mundane details of how we move through this world as Native people, engineering projects that might not come into their full form within our individual lifetimes. For Martin, one potential Alaska Native future might be encapsulated in her work Wolf Woman in Comfortable Summer Clothes (2023). Using coloured pencil, Martin depicts a woman in slouching patterned pants, a loose

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typical viewpoint, inviting us to see what the land sees. The exhibition for which Ivalu made this piece asked the question: How do we survive in the face of climate change? I am taken by her answer, that one possible future is to practice seeing as the land does.

When further considering futurism, Ivalu shares her concept of re-creation stories with me. Building out from the core importance of origin stories to Native peoples, re-creation stories of transformation show us how animal relatives transform constantly and that we need to mirror their ability to pivot and adapt to the natural world.

These lessons of transformation are captured in her 2022 series Allaŋŋuq, which means “to change” or “to be different than before.”

“Re-creation stories connect to our Indigenous struggles against colonialism,” Ivalu tells me. “We can’t stay the same, we can’t hold on to static ways of being. Transformation is inherent to our survival and every generation has to recreate themselves, to retell and be a part of our cultural practices as we make ourselves anew.”

In her carving Molting Natchiq from Sitŋasauq (2022), we see the seal take a new shape and form as a three-part mask. The centre natchiq mask is a dark grey-black colour with strands of silver beads cascading downward, while two beige-coloured half natchiq faces part to either side. Rather than opening like flower petals, the two halves give the illusion that they might circle around the sides of the central mask to become whole on the back of the mask, away from sight. This transformation is not just about shedding a shell and discarding parts of ourselves but a transformation of cycles.

Inuit Art Quarterly

This idea that every generation must engage in its own re-creation stories also resonates with my conversation with Martin about her work, generational knowledge and making new stories for ourselves and community. In considering her engagements with the design element of formline, Martin mentions that one of the wishes of her work is that it allows for more accessibility of cultural knowledge.

“I think about my grandmother and her mother who thought about the world using a Lingít brain and were asked to translate things into English,” 3 she explains. “I have the ability to access that language with gratitude, the same way I have access to formline.”

The art of formline, primarily defined by curvilinear lines of varying thicknesses and ovoid forms, has historically been considered a craft to be perfected carefully and often studied under years of mentorship. Martin makes the style her own and accessible through the unconventional use of coloured pencil and imbuing each image with humour and playfulness. “Part of my work is using my grandmother’s brain to translate my work into English,” she continues. “When you use your own voice to reclaim your language, you can imitate your ancestors, but you do it in your own way, with your own perspective and experience, to describe what you see in the world. If it is only purely imitation, then it’s not authentic to the version of the world we are in.”

These practices of translation and re-creation, then, are about meeting change with adaptation while inspiring others to tell their stories. Part of that method, Martin says referencing Dr. X’unei Lance Twitchell, Lingít, Haida and Yup’ik professor and language

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OPPOSITE

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Molting Natchniq from Sitŋasauq 2022 Basswood, acrylic paint and glass beads 8.9 × 27.9 × 40.6 cm LEFT

A work in progress by Rachel Martin BELOW

Rachel Martin — gawd is real and she lives in a clamshell on the beach 2021 Coloured pencil and graphite 22.9 × 30.5 cm

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TOP

BOTTOM

Rachel Martin — Wolf Woman in Comfortable Summer Clothes 2023 Coloured pencil and graphite 30.5 × 22.9 cm

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Nesting Tatirgak from Troth Yeddha with mannik 2022 Basswood, acrylic paint and glass beads 38.1 × 66 × 7.9 cm

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worker, is that the goal should not be to practice these art forms so perfectly that we lose our own voice and perspective. Martin says that in her own work trying to make people laugh, sharing a Lingít value system and forming personal connections through her craft is part of that accessibility. In gawd is real and she lives in a clamshell on the beach (2021), we see Martin’s humour and playfulness, showing us that our guides and philosophies can be seen everywhere. A white, open, rounded clamshell reveals a small formline face with an open mouth sharing three white wisps of knowledge.

The unassuming shell and creature inside show us a “gawd” we might not expect, demonstrating that, if we look, sacredness might be small and found right before us.

I understand the accessible present to be part of a more just future; it’s not only having access to our languages and art forms but, as Martin shows us, the support and opportunity to practice them freely. I see this reflected in an Instagram post of her piece Been Ready (2023) that is captioned, “i can speak my grandmothers language but i ain’t gotta speak exactly like my grandmother did.” 4 In this piece, a figure with white, thigh-high athletic socks lunges forward seemingly to break out into a run, their bare butt and outstretched arms in faintly drawn pencil. The head of the figure is rendered in formline with blue, yellow and white, and a pink tongue extended downward, cut out and adhered to the figure’s body, which is drawn directly on brown fuzzy textured paper.

I ask Martin about the choice of pencil and the characteristically light lines of her drawing composition, and she shares that while the lines are soft, the intention and physicality of the work is strong. “The soul behind it comes through in the play between strength and softness,” she says. “Soft lines, soft colour, using minimal amounts of elements—this results in a strong message that softness is also strength.” Martin explains that working softly with paper and pencil means that one can change course easily, especially when something doesn’t feel right. “Pencil and paper won’t last forever,” she tells me, “And that’s how it’s meant to be, just like totem poles will have a lifespan and go back into the ground . . . with no vampire-museum-involved world where things are kept forever. Paper and pencil still create a soul, just as strongly as it would be in wood.”

Thinking about the life cycle of artwork, I ask Ivalu about an ongoing series she is working on called Weatherings, in which she brings her carvings and masks to her homelands, finds a place for them on the land and records the stories that weather tells on wood.

Ivalu relays that the concept has its roots in her first three-minute short film, Uvaŋa Uva Nuna (I am Here Land) (2021), which shows a series of recordings of Ivalu’s carvings out on her homelands while she reads a poem of the same title. 5 In the short film and ongoing series, Ivalu explains, “On the land [the carvings] are where they are made from, and also where I am made from.” The idea also emerged from a question she was asked during a visit to a gallery in New York City, New York: If she could have her work shown anywhere, where would it be? Ivalu answered: on the land, at home.

This is what her Weatherings series is about—masks at home, feeling that place through their materiality, her carvings and beads touching muskeg, grass, berries, feeling rain, snow, wind and dew. Ivalu says that “in museum collections, ancestor cultural belongings have been extracted from where they are meant to be, when you get to see them and spend time with them, they are so weathered and a part of the land that they belong to. Part of their intention is to be with and on the land. Ancestral intention, then, is to make work that belongs to the land.” In images from Ivalu’s Instagram, we see her carvings of fox, salmon and rabbit immersed with the land, sometimes partly obscured, other times finding their place within water. Here Ivalu’s carvings and masks make their own futures.

Poetry is part of storytelling for Ivalu and finds itself as part of the process for Martin. About her piece Inside My Dress Is a Chest Is a Tree Is My Lungs Is My Heart is My Home (2024), Martin tells me that the title is a poem she wrote and that her inspiration doesn’t often happen in this way. “[The poem] came first before the drawing . . .

I could see it very strongly. It was a result of what’s been happening

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been ready tk

ABOVE

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Tigigaaniaq on the Tundra 2024 Digital photograph

LEFT

Rachel Martin — Been Ready 2023 Coloured pencil and graphite 43.2 × 35.6 cm

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brilliant thinkers and creators acted as a balm and a spirit lift, leaving me feeling inspired, imagining from a cloud the shapes of Alaska Native futures they each craft and offer through their art forms. They make clear to me what Martin shared during our conversation, that community is about making personal connections—especially through sharing craft and talents in relation to homeland that help us grow, bringing us closer to each other and ourselves.

in Palestine.” In the piece, the figure’s hands are out at their sides, palms facing the viewer, and their nails are sharpened and red.

Martin explained that sharpened nails are a form of protecting land, cultural knowledges and those relations. This drawing is one piece in a series of “solidarity figures,” featuring some works that are small and others that are larger, like Inside My Dress. Martin tells me, “There is power in being both strong and fragile, hopeful and fragile, and that is always coupled with the protection of cultural knowledge and personal connections you build along the way.”

I am left feeling both hopeful and fragile. I am grateful to Martin for the reframing to feel softness and solidarity as strength and to Ivalu for her offering of the re-creation story as one potential path and future for our communities. Visiting with these two

­— Jen Rose Smith (dAXunhyuu/Eyak) is an assistant professor of geography and American Indian studies. She works at the intersection of critical Indigenous studies, cultural human geography and environmental humanities.

LEFT

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich — Iqalukpik in running water 2024 Digital photograph OPPOSITE

Rachel Martin — Inside My Dress Is a Chest Is a Tree Is My Lungs Is My Heart Is My Home 2024 Coloured pencil and graphite 165.1 × 99.1 cm

NOTES 1

2

3

4

5

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The concept of Indigenous Futurisms was coined by Anishinaabe scholar Grace L. Dillon in 2012, in homage to the Afrofuturism movement, which, through art and science fiction, envisions stories of Black liberation and empowerment. Indigenous Futurisms imagine similar realities based on the lived experiences of Indigenous peoples beyond colonialism.

It also moves away from the Western perception of linear time, instead connecting past, present and future as one.

All quotes Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich, interview with Jen Rose Smith, July 2024.

All quotes Rachel Martin, interview with Jen Rose Smith, July 2024.

Rachel Martin (@__ rachelmartin__), Instagram, March 17, 2024.

Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich, “Uvaŋa Uva Nuna (I am Here Land),” November 2, 2021, YouTube video, 2:47, youtube. com/watch?v=zD8ZD6z9Hr8.

Fall 2024

LO

G N I S

OUR H

T IS

Y R O —

by Irene Snarby

PREVIOUS

ABOVE

Interior and exterior of Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat, the Sámi Museum, Kárášjohka, (Karasjok), Sápmi, Norway, 2010

Door handle of the SVD, designed by Iver Jåks

ALL PHOTOS ELIN HAUGDAL

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Looking at the Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat museum as a storied place and at the importance of preserving Sámi art and history.

in the museum is an important element in moving us forward.

However, in 2022 the Sámi Parliament’s assembly defied their own cultural heritage preservation advisers and Statsbygg and voted for demolition, with 37 in favour and 2 votes against. This was done rapidly, and the demolition option was not familiar to more than the few working in the museum and the Sámi Parliament. When it became more publicly known, this decision was bound to cause conflict within Sámi society. Petitions with over 100 signatures from art and cultural workers protesting the museum’s demolition speak to the building’s importance.7 The Sámi Parliament has shared some reasons for its decision to tear down the museum, but it is still difficult to understand how our elected Sámi representatives decided to eliminate the first purpose-built Sámi museum in the world, believing that a brand-new building is crucial for our development. The SVD has been integral to the development of Sámi culture ever since it opened in 1972, and as a multifunctional institution, it was pivotal for the ethnopolitical movements in the ’70s and ’80s. Author and poet Inga Ravna Eira emphasizes that many have considered the building to be sacred. It was a free spiritual zone where people were allowed to be Sámi in a time of Norwegianization and Christianity.8 This would normally be a reason for designating the building for conservation; however, the building is not owned by the Norwegian government and therefore does not qualify for this protection. It is owned by the Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat owner foundation (SVD-Eierstiftelsen), composed primarily of Sámi people, which is reluctant to give Norwegian authorities the opportunity to designate it as a heritage site.9 It is therefore only the Sámi Parliament that can instruct the ownership association to protect the building as a conservation site and thereby save the museum. Eira is one of many Elders who have advocated for the building since the beginning. These Elders are in despair, deeply disappointed that their part of history is not valued more.10 The experience of the building as an artwork starts when you grab the large, heavy handle of the entrance door. The handle is shaped like a sacred drum, symbolizing the female and male meeting in the fertilization process. The material is brass, which in ancient Sámi religion was valued for its protection against evil spirits and has retained its importance to this day. You need strength to pull the door open, a symbolic effort that gives access to the interior of the museum. Then you enter the hall itself. Brass is used around the

If there were ever a place we could proudly take our friends and colleagues to see spectacular art in Sápmi, it was to the unique Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat (SVD), the Sámi Museum in Kárášjohka (Karasjok), Sápmi, Norway. This cultural history museum opened in 1972 and was planned and built in a close collaboration between the Norwegian architects Vidar Corn Jessen and Magdalena Eide Jessen and one of the most well-known Sámi artists of our time, sculptor and illustrator Iver Jåks (1932–2007).1 Jåks was commissioned to create art inside the museum, and he was also a crucial adviser and interlocutor for the architects, helping them adapt and include a Sámi perspective in the building. The SVD is a total art and architecture experience—the two so intertwined that they cannot be separated. Sámi architect and artist Joar Nango explains, “The building is unique in relation to Sámi architectural design and autonomy. It is the first Sámi museum ever built and designed for this purpose . . . which makes it an important symbolic monument of our political fight for sovereignty in the ’60s and ’70s.” 2 Though many artists, architects, critics and curators have argued for the museum’s importance as a work of Sámi art,3 a decision has been made to demolish the building in order to create a new museum for cultural history, a conservation laboratory and a department for art. This decision was made to ensure the building could functionally house art and cultural heritage and comply with contemporary requirements. Specific concerns include extensive rot and mould in the building as well as uncertainty about whether it is financially and technically feasible to resolve these issues.4 The SVD also needs to be updated to safely accommodate repatriated historical items.5 At the same time the directors have also promised to build the new Sámi art museum within the existing budget.

Structurally, there is no reason to destroy the museum. The building is in relatively good condition, according to the Norwegian Directorate of Public Construction and Property (Statsbygg), which conducted a feasibility study in 2019. Statsbygg concluded that the building has a significant conservation value and requires some maintenance and storage upgrades. Though budget was not part of the assessment, it is likely that the cost of demolishing the existing museum and building a completely new one would not be lower than renovating the existing structure and creating an extension, which was recommended in the report.6 A traditional Sámi way of thinking is that time is circular and our future is grounded in the past. Preserving the art and history

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Losing Our History

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Fall 2024

Architectural drawings of the SVD by Vidar Corn Jessen and Magdalena Eide Jessen, 1968 COURTESY IVER JÅKS’ ARCHIVE

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Losing Our History

hall. This piece was considered taboo and pagan in the strictly Christian village of Kárášjohka at the time it was made. Artist Ingunn Utsi, a representative for the Elders who were the first young generation to use the building, explains: “We were so grateful for Jåks filling this void in our history by materializing this motif. That he manifested our roots and connection to ancient beliefs on a huge concrete wall in a public building in his own village, despite harsh resistance from the [Christian community members].

Nobody had done that before. It was incredibly brave of him.” 11 Inside the exhibition halls of the museum, Jåks has drawn and painted friezes with reindeer raids, which may be inspired by memories from his own childhood, and together with his assistant, duojár Gunvor Guttorm, made illustrations displaying signs from the old sacred drums. Exhibition stands in all halls were designed

pillars and along the entire bannister of the stairs as a reminder of the sacred protection, designed by Jåks. But most powerful of all is his large concrete wall relief The Dance of the Gods (1972). When you stand in front of it, you can feel the importance of the old world of gods and spirits.

The Dance of the Gods is impressive in its form and artistry and at the same time presented in a contemporary style. In the scene, you see Biegga-almmái, the wind god, who is controlling the wind and weather with his shovels, while Máttaráhkká, the voluptuous mother goddess, dances alongside two male figures. Sáráhkká, a fertility goddess who is also associated with spring, is floating with a giant drum hammer between her legs. They radiate joy and mystery and are reminiscent of figures dancing on the tent cloth around a fire in a lávvu, a feeling enhanced by the dimness of the

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OPPOSITE

Exterior of the SVD, Kárášjohka, Sápmi, 2010

ABOVE

Iver Jåks — The Dance of the Gods 1972 Concrete and wood © THE ARTIST

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ABOVE & OPPOSITE

Interior view of exhibitions in the SVD Kárášjohka, Sápmi, 2010

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NOTES

and carved by duojár John Ole Andersen and Jåks. Sámi aesthetics are seen throughout the exhibitions. Beautiful duodji works— traditional Sámi handcrafts—illustrating creativity, spirituality and survival are shown in the museum, surrounded by and displayed on natural materials. Art history professor Elin Haugdal elaborates in an article: “The building’s modest form and simple use of materials enhance the art and craft objects; the building is a spatial frame for the artworks and the exhibition.” 12 With his art, Jåks brought Sámi cultural heritage to life. Through an experimental and playful interaction with the language and spiritual knowledge of duodji, Jåks gave a voice to Sámi methods, traditions, practices and experiences in an arena that had previously dismissed this as ethnology, not art.

Aware of the dangers of displaying living culture as frozen in time, Jåks created artwork that reminded people of Sámi history but also looked forward to development. In an interview in the local newspaper, he explained: “. . . museum[s] can also function in a completely different way. It can make Sámis aware of the values of Sámi culture and art. . . . The museum can inspire further growth and life.” 13 To conserve some of the architectural and artistic value of the museum, the wall with The Dance of the Gods will be preserved.

However, the cost to do this will likely be high, and there’s no guarantee it will be successful. Reflecting on the significance of the building, Nango says, “The building is, on a global level, a very good example of how artistic production and architectural designs can merge in a very strong way. The artistic narratives are integrated in the building and its very building parts, handles and concrete wall.

The word Gesamtkunstwerk comes to my mind.” 14 The SVD is a monument of Sámi art and design, featuring symbols and artworks that—with their references to previous generations’ epistemology, intangible knowledge and vitality— give the building a deeper meaning. We need to proceed into the future on the shoulders of our history and our Elders’ wisdom.

This is how we move forward, taking care of the legacy of Iver Jåks while also preserving a historically and artistically important building and our own close history.

Iver Jåks was decorated as a Knight, First Order, of the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav in 2002.

2 All quotes Joar Nango, written correspondence with Irene Snarby, July 2024.

3 This was discussed at a curators’ talk at the Mađđi Romsa Dáiddahálla, June 2024. The Sámi artist Ingunn Utsi has emphasized this in several interviews.

4 Dan Robert Larsen and Karen Eira, “Dispute over historic museum building to be demolished,” NRK Sápmi, May 18, 2024, nrk.no/sapmi/ kunstnere-motsetter-seg-rivning-av-historiskmuseumsbygg-1.16887212.

5 Mulighetsstudie for RidduDouttarMuseat (RDM) Samlokalisering. Samisk museum i Karasjok De samiske samlinger (SVD), Samisk kunstmuseum og Senter for samisk samtidskunst (SDG) i Karasjok.

(Statsbygg, 2019), October 2019, sametinget.no/_f/ p1/i8c674f58-063b-4bcf-9f6d-c87c4dfab794/ mulighetsstudie-for-riddudouttarmuseat-rdm-1.pdf.

6 Ibid.

7 “More than a hundred will protect the Sami Collections,” NRK Sápmi, June 25, 2024, nrk.no/ sapmi/mer-enn-hundre-vil-verne-de-samiskesamlinger-1.16939628; and “Petition against the demolition of Sámiid Vuorká-Dávvirat - The Sámi Museum in Karasjok” Google forms petition by Geir Tore Holm, Irene Snarby, Raisa Porsanger and Elina Waage Mikalsen.

8 See note 4 above.

9 Åse Pulk and Aslak Ilkka Niittyvuopio, “Concerned about uncertainty around the art museum,” NRK Sápmi, September 18, 2012, nrk.no/sapmi/ bekymret-for-museum-usikkerhet-1.8326314.

10 Dan Robert Larsen, “Many advise Statsbygg against demolition,” NRK Sápmi, June 30, 2024, nrk.no/ sapmi/mange-frarader-statsbygg-mot-a-rive-samiskmuseum-1.16944354.

11 Quote from Ingunn Utsi, personal correspondence with Irene Snarby, July 2024.

12 Elin Haugdal, “Å ta eierskap. Samisk bygningsrelatert kunst,” Kunst og Kultur 105, no. 2–3, (September 2022), idunn.no/doi/full/10.18261/kk.105.2.9#.

13 Magne Holmin, “Leve eller dø,” Finnmark Dagblad, June 29, 1970: 7. Translated by Irene Snarby.

14 “Gesamtkunstwerk,” The Art Story, theartstory.org/ definition/gesamtkunstwerk/. The German term Gesamtkunstwerk roughly translates to “total work of art” and describes an artwork, design or creative process where different art forms are combined to create a single cohesive whole.

1

— Irene Snarby is a PhD fellow at UiT the Arctic University of Norway as well as a consultant and curator. Snarby has researched and worked in the field of Sámi art since the early 1990s. For a number of years, she worked as a curator at RiddoDuottarMuseat in Kárášjohka. She has written numerous articles, edited several publications and lectured widely on the subject of Sámi art.

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CURATORIAL NOTES

Radical Stitch National Gallery of Canada

BELOW

Installation views of Radical Stitch, 2024 PHOTO BARRY POTTLE ALL © THE ARTISTS

CURATED BY SHERRY FARRELL RACETTE, MICHELLE LAVALLEE AND CATHY MATTES MAY 17, 2024–SEPTEMBER 30, 2024 OTTAWA, ON

The travelling exhibition Radical Stitch opened at the National Gallery of Canada (NGC) earlier this year and is the culmination of years of research and planning by co-curators Sherry Farrell Racette, Michelle LaVallee and Cathy Mattes. The show stemmed from the desire to uplift Indigenous beadwork, highlighting theincredible skill, labour and imagination that go into this art practice. In this iteration of the exhibition, Jocelyn Piirainen, Associate Curator, Inuit Art for the Department of Indigenous Ways and Decolonization at the NGC, was involved as the Coordinating Curator. Piirainen facilitated the installation of artwork but also brought in some new pieces, focusing on Inuit artists. The artists she brought to the exhibition are Niap, Martha Kyak and Eva Talooki Aliktiluk (1927–1994).

Radical Stitch first opened in 2022 at the MacKenzie Art Gallery in Regina, SK, and then travelled to the Art Gallery of Hamilton, ON, in 2023 and the Thunder Bay Art Gallery, ON, in 2023–2024. The exhibition includes works that range from wearable beadwork, portraiture and installation. The pieces examine themes like connection to the land, food sovereignty, the impact of COVID-19 and decolonization.

Here Michelle LaVallee, curator and Director of the Department of Indigenous Ways and Decolonization at the NGC, takes Inuit Art Quarterly behind the scenes of Radical Stitch to reveal the inspiration and process behind this exhibition.

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OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Lizzie Ittinuar — Map of Hamlet of Rankin Inlet, Nunavut 2005 Wool and beads 152 × 198 cm OPPOSITE (CENTRE)

Martha Kyak — ᓴᑭᐊᒍᑎ [Sakiaguti] 2021 Sealskin, beads, felt and appliqué OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Niap — Piqutiapiit 2002 Felt, suede, leather, cotton, caribou skin, fur, ivory, beads, beluga whale teeth, black oak and nails 182.9 × 121.9 cm

Fall 2024

CURATORIAL NOTES

What were the goals of the exhibition? One of the goals is to challenge both beadwork artists and art audiences to see the unlimited potential of beads and to do our part to raise the profile, recognition and respect for makers and beadwork. The exhibit celebrates innovation and the tactical beauty of beads. It’s not meant to be a survey exhibition, but we were conscious of wanting to have a range of representation from a variety of First Nations, Inuit and Métis and geographical areas all across what is now known as Canada and the United States. One of the key criteria was excellence and really wanting to highlight the skill, the time and the labour that goes into these beadwork practices that I’d argue have not necessarily been held up to the level that they deserve. Some of the most exciting practices are presented, with artists who suggest future directions, create new meaning and redefine representation and cultural determinism. Is there an exhibition or other curatorial project you drew on when working on this project? Not specifically, though past curatorial projects continue to inform our practices. It’s also important to

acknowledge that we really see Radical Stitch as part of a series of exhibitions that have been looking at more beadwork recently, which stemmed from kind of a grassroots initiative of artists and curators wanting to explore and showcase beadwork within a contemporary fine art context. The show has been able to be not just welcomed but built upon by each venue in ways to access and complement not just communities that they serve but also carry on this history of exhibitions and the expansion of beadwork over the years. How did you come to the title of the show? For us, it really resonates deeply and captures a desired messaging for the exhibition. Radical Stitch asserts beadwork as innovative and radical and refutes perceptions of beadwork as souvenir or trinket or simply a craft production. Another aspect of the title, thinking about radical is thinking about oppression and the laws and the policies that restricted and banned cultural practices and sites of reclamation, radical reclamation and resistance. There’s radical love, there’s radical thought and there’s radical resilience that’s all encapsulated within these works

Commentary by Michelle LaVallee and Jocelyn Piirainen

and within this exhibition. Stitching is the fundamental gesture in beadwork. A stitch is a small step toward a new beginning, a tiny act of creation. There are hundreds of thousands of stitches in these artworks. A stitch can be a way to talk back and a way to take back. How did the different spaces affect the exhibition? With this exhibition, we allowed the show to, in some aspects, morph and be organic. We’ve been working closely with each venue and the coordinating curators like Jocelyn to have an opportunity to engage local communities and to bring in works that might best reflect the communities that are hosting the exhibition. This also allows for some works to come and go . . . recognizing we were unable to travel and visit studios or collections during the development of the exhibition due to COVID-19 restrictions, it is a welcome privilege to address what is really just the tip of the iceberg. We’re really looking at the conversations that happen between our works so things aren’t always grouped together in the same way for every venue. Describe the show in three words.

Awe, respect and inspiration.

Martha Kyak ᓴᑭᐊᒍᑎ [Sakiaguti] (2021) Martha Kyak is an amazing Inuk fashion designer who continues to push the boundaries. Her piece is one that is worthy of being worn and shown on the fashion runways. Featuring sealskin and felt appliqué amongst shimmering beads, gems and pearls, this is a beautiful example of her elegant creations and assertion of her arctic roots.

Lizzie Ittinuar Map of Hamlet of Rankin Inlet, Nunavut (2005)

Niap Piqutiapiit (2022)

This piece is quite intriguing: Lizzie Ittinuar has decided to create a bird’s-eye map of her home community, Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU, in incredible detail—beading the surrounding lakes and the airport runway. By using the black fabric as the backing, she’s allowed her beadwork and embroidery to fully shine.

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While not necessarily known for her beadwork, Niap has created a beautiful piece that honours and celebrates the seamstresses and creators of traditional amautiit. This work is not only a testament to Niap’s own artistic practice but to the resilience and resourcefulness of Inuit women.

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TRIBUTE

Clara Evalik

by Cora Kavyaktok Living in the North inspires creativity and innovation in many artists, and textile artist Clara Evalik, who grew up in Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU, is no exception.

During a phone conversation, I asked Evalik about her art practice and she chuckled remembering her earliest entrepreneurial endeavour when she fashioned a bracelet out of bones and sold it to a teacher for a single dollar. Her artistic roots run deep— from age five she was already immersed in the timeless tradition of sewing, working on school projects and assisting her mother, an expert seamstress, to fulfill orders for parkas, kamiit and mitts. As a child Evalik held some resentment toward her mother’s insistence on taking up this craft; while her carefree peers played outside, she was indoors learning to sew. But Evalik’s mother was passing down a gift that she would come to recognize later in life—one that would not only shape her artistic practice but also her identity and legacy.

Evalik was taught that when garments are being made for others, your stitches must be perfect to prevent the arctic wind from piercing through. This wisdom is engrained in everything she creates and has been passed down to her own children, ensuring this legacy of craftsmanship will carry on for generations. In 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Evalik and her daughters Shelly and Traci O’Gorman founded the fashion design business Nukariit Creations.

Together they design distinctive kalikuks, lightweight garments often worn in spring and summer, using her unique patterns that Evalik says are representative of the Kitikmeot Region with floral designed prints. They have received some big orders to date, including a couple for Canada’s Governor General, Her Excellency the Right Honourable Mary Simon, CC, CMM, COM. But Evalik’s desire to pursue her artistic inclinations happened even earlier, starting in 2019 when she neared retirement from her day job as the Regional Executive Director for the Nunavut Government Department of Health, Kitikmeot Region, where she had worked since completing high school. She felt a strong urge to create a puhitaq—a traditional fur ruff for parka hoods.

Evalik fondly recalls the intricate fur adorning Inuit Art Quarterly

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TRIBUTE

OPPOSITE

Puhitaq Making Workshop, Iqaluktuuttiaq, NU, February 2019 Clockwise from left: Clara Evalik, Annie Jane Kamingoak, Rosie Kaiyogana, Beverly Amos, Ethel-Jean Gruben and Agnes Panioyak ALL COURTESY THE ARTIST

LEFT (TOP & BOTTOM)

Clara Evalik hand stitching and measuring wolf strips for puhitaq, March 2023 RIGHT (TOP)

Clara Evalik — Western Kitikmeot atigi 2020 Wolf puhitaq, wolverine trim, quilted lining, Commander fabric shell and Delta Braid trim © THE ARTIST

LEFT (BOTTOM)

Clara Evalik, Iqaluktuuttiaq NU, October 2020

NOTES 1

her childhood parkas, how they kept her warm and how proud she felt having the puhitaq, sometimes called a sunburst, around her face. The sunburst is a link to her heritage—blending the Kuugjuaq, NU, area and the Alaskan roots of her parents.

Evalik tells me that, “A puhitaq is more than just a piece of a garment; it’s a symbol of an Inuk woman’s identity and is something shared amongst the Kitikmeot Region, the Inuvialuit Settlement Region and Alaska.” 1 Having completed only one puhitaq in the past, with the guidance of her mother, Evalik knew she would have to seek help.

She also knew that if she was feeling this pull toward puhitaq-making, other women must be interested. With the support of a grant from the Kitikmeot Inuit Association, Evalik organized two four-day workshops in Iqaluktuuttiaq in collaboration with Arctic Indigenous Futurisms

seamstress Agnes Panioyak—one in February 2019 and another in September 2020. She accepted experienced seamstresses to participate in the workshops, including women who travelled from Inuvik, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT. Together they learned techniques including softening wolf pelts and tacking the fur to canvas. The group worked so closely that each participant completed their puhitaq within two minutes of one another. Evalik’s project fostered a great sense of accomplishment, having helped so many craft their own puhitaq and having completed her very own.

“While puhitaq were designed to block wind and keep the wearer warm, what really came out of this ongoing project was the feeling of a new family unit and a necessary amount of collective healing,” Evalik says.

Many have the opportunity to reclaim their 63

All quotes Clara Evalik, interview with Cora Kavyaktok, May 2024.

identities as Inuit, Inuvialuit and Alaska Native women through the revival of this highly skilled art, thanks to Evalik’s vision.

Reflecting back on her mother making her learn the art of sewing, Evalik says, “I am now so thankful and I know that if Mom could see what we are doing now, she would be so proud.”

— Cora Kavyaktok is an experienced photographer who works under the name Little Inuk Photography and is now delving into the world of writing. She is originally from Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU, and resides in Vermilion, AB. Kavyaktok’s photography has been exhibited in Finland, Poland, Peru, Vancouver and Montreal, and was featured in the book Reawakening Our Ancestors’ Lines and Chatelaine magazine.

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NEWS

Updates and highlights from the world of Inuit art and culture

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Taqralik Partridge, 2022

Heather Campbell — Miss Campbell: Inuk Teacher (still) 2023 Short film 15 min 3 sec

Glenn Gear — katitsuik | collect, gather (installation view) 2023 Photographs, sound, animation, sealskins and video projection Dimensions variable

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COURTESY NATIONAL FILM BOARD OF CANADA © THE ARTIST

COURTESY BONAVISTA BIENNALE PHOTO BRIAN RICKS © THE ARTIST

Taqralik Partridge Shortlisted for the 2024 Sobey Art Award

Longtime Inuit Arts Luminaries Recognized for Their Work

Multidisciplinary artist Taqralik Partridge is the inaugural Circumpolar shortlisted artist for the 2024 Sobey Art Award. Partridge, who is from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, and based in Ottawa, ON, is vying against five other artists from across Canada for the $100,000 annual prize: Judy Chartrand (Pacific), Rhayne Vermette (Prairies), June Clark (Ontario), Nico Williams ᐅᑌᒥᐣ (Québec) and Mathieu Léger (Atlantic).

Partridge’s artistic practice includes writing, spoken word, beading, installation and curation. Her work has been featured in many exhibitions, including the nationally touring group exhibition Radical Stitch (2022–2024) and her first solo exhibition, Taqralik Partridge: ᐳᓛᖃᑎᒌᑦ (Pulaaqatigiit) (2024), at Onsite Gallery in Toronto, ON. Partridge was among four Inuit artists longlisted for the Sobey Art Award this year, alongside Eldred Allen, Jason Sikoak and Jessica Winters—the highest number of Inuit artists longlisted in one year to date.

“This year, the peer-to-peer conversation brought forward by an artist-led jury resulted in recognizing six artists whose vision, determination and commitment to innovation has remained unwavering,” said Jonathan Shaughnessy, chair of the jury. All six shortlisted artists will receive $25,000 and be featured in an exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa from October 2024 to March 2025, with the winner to be announced at an event on November 9, 2024.

From honorary degrees to commendations for a lifetime of service in the arts, five Inuit were recognized this May and June for their achievements in a variety of fields.

Artist and IAF Board Vice-President Reneltta Arluk received an honorary Doctor of Letters degree from the University of Alberta, where she was not only the first Inuk but also the first Indigenous woman to graduate from their Bachelor of Fine Arts in Acting program, in 2005. Arluk also received a 2024 Library and Archives Canada Scholar Award for her remarkable contribution to the creation and promotion of Canada’s culture, literary heritage and historical knowledge.

Michael Massie, CM, RCA, another IAF board member, was awarded an honorary Doctor of Design degree from OCAD University for his contributions to the arts.

In recognition of his extensive work promoting Inuktitut and his culture in the province, singer-songwriter, journalist, editor and broadcaster William Tagoona was inducted into the Ordre des arts et des lettres du Québec. Similarly, multidisciplinary artist Nancy Pukingrnak Aupaluktuq won the 2023 Nunavut Commissioner’s Arts Award for her contributions to visual arts in the territory. Finally, classical musician Deantha Edmunds, CM, won the Artist of the Year Award at the Newfoundland and Labrador Arts Awards for her contribution to the province’s cultural scene.

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Success and Support for Circumpolar Indigenous Filmmakers The circumpolar Indigenous screen industry has been in the limelight recently, with increased funding to film sectors and a number of circumpolar Indigenous filmmakers garnering accolades.

In May Heather Campbell’s documentary Miss Campbell: Inuk Teacher (2023) was nominated for a Golden Sheaf Award at the Yorkton Film Festival in Saskatchewan, and Ashley Qilavaq-Savard’s short film Reclaim (2023) won the Young Filmmaker Award at the Latino and Native American Film Festival in New Haven, Connecticut. In June feature-length documentary Twice Colonized (2023), centred on the life of Kalaaleq lawyer Aaju Peter, CM, and co-produced by Inuit filmmakers Alethea Arnaquq-Baril, MSC, and Stacey Aglok MacDonald, won the Ted Rogers Best Feature Length Documentary at the Canadian Screen Awards in Toronto, ON. Finally, Sara Margrethe Oskal’s feature film The Tundra Within Me (2023) was nominated for three Amanda Awards at the Norwegian International Film Festival in Haugesund.

Indigenous film productions in Canada will be supported by increased investment to Canadian film and Indigenous film industries. In May Telefilm Canada directed $26.4 million in funding to 13 projects in the English market, including two Inuit-led and co-led productions: Nyla Innuksuk’s psychological thriller In the Heart of the South and the drama In Alaska, co-directed and screenwritten by Jaap van Heusden and Vinnie Karetak. In June the Indigenous Screen Office announced that it will receive an estimated $200 million in funding from the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission in addition to an annual $13 million in permanent funding from Canadian Heritage.

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Artist of the month Phebe Bentley Earings, Lookin Sharp by Phebe

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LAST LOOK

Sissel M. Bergh Territorealise (mapping from coast to coast) Sissel M. Bergh — Territorealise (mapping from coast to coast) 2014 Acrylic 240 × 360 cm © THE ARTIST

NOTES 1

Quote from Sissel M. Bergh at the Office of Contemporary Art Norway, December 2019.

Inuit Art Quarterly

The story is.

A story has no beginning and no end; it exists in an in-between space, fluidly growing and expanding as people, places and experiences add to it. A story simply is, living in perpetuity, constantly in flux because we all add to it, creating a collective depository of our knowledge and memories. In the Sámi language, a story is known as muitalus; this word shares its etymological root with muitu, “a memory,” and muitit, “to remember.” Therefore a story is also a memory— shared among people, carrying moments of past, present and future.

“I want to make visible our history,” 1 says Sissel M. Bergh when she explains her piece Territorealise (mapping from coast to coast) (2014). Known for her work in reclaiming Sámi lands, Bergh in this piece presents a map of a specific area where the Sámi presence on the land was erased, reframed as Norwegian by way of nomenclature, superseding the original names (and stories) of the land with poor translations. Bergh’s bold acrylic paint strokes on the canvas reveal the physical world remapped—not as colonial possession but as a storied land that reveals our Sámi presence, a confluence that heralds the sites of connectivity and interrelational existence. In this way, Territorealise (mapping from coast to coast) reflects how nothing is ever truly forgotten or erased. It expresses that a story, as always, is.

Safeguarded by our artists, song makers and dreamers, the story is always accessible (even if and when we need to relearn how to listen to it). Thus, whenever someone shares extracts of a story, we are invited to listen, and as we move with it, we also move into ancestral and present knowledge that forge connections to everything that has been and is. This lays a path to the futures that we make, because we live them in this moment. From the story—even when one of us forgets—we all remember.

RÁMAVUOL LIISA-RÁVDNÁ/LIISA-RÁVNÁ FINBOG

Guest Editor

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Theresie Tungilik knowledge keeper indigenous advisory circle

>> Indigenous Language Sovereignty: Article 13 Tour Explore the Gallery with a virtual tour that celebrates the names and spaces of WAG-Qaumajuq.

Learn about the powerful meanings behind their names and the permanent presence of Indigenous languages throughout the building, guided by UNDRIP Article 13, directly from the Knowledge Keepers who gifted them. You can support cultural understanding in the heart of Canada at wag.ca/donate.

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Winnipeg Art Gallery–Qaumajuq 300 Memorial Blvd. Wpg, MB | wag.ca

Portrait Illustrations by Gayle Uyagaqi Kabloona

“Qaumajuq means ‘it is bright, it is lit.’ I wanted to name it that because when you’re in the light, you feel more creative and inspired to do many beautiful things.”

Carrie Allison

A North American Art Collection amplifying diverse voices and creating conversations.

Image Credit: Carrie Allison (Cree/Métis & European), Junipers Lined My Grandmothers Walkway 3, Miyuki beads on linen, 2023, 12 x 9 in. Courtesy Norberg Hall Learn more at td.com/art.

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