Inuit Art Quarterly - The Pride Issue: Standing Together

IN THIS ISSUE:

Free to Be Me Layered Autonomy — Shaping Identities Conversing and Creating — Inspirational Inuit Queer Artists Look Back

The Pride Issue

Standing Together

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CONTENTS

38.2

Inuit Art Quarterly The Pride Issue

Front

Features

Back CURATORIAL NOTES

03 Message from the Inuit Art Foundation

50 Worlds on Paper: Drawings from Kinngait curated by Emily Laurent Henderson

05 From the Editor

PROFILE

06 Impact Update

52 Mikak Semigak-Justason

by Jasmine Freeman

5 WERKS

12

Ballroom Birds

by Ossie Michelin

LAST LOOK

56 Anxiety Simik Komaksiutiksak

by Ossie Michelin

CHOICE

16

Remnant, Moose Legging Sonya Kelliher-Combs

by Nawang Tsomo Kinkar

18

Drying Caribou Meat and Fish Omalluq Oshutsiaq

by Arnatsiaq Qvist

CHOICE

ARTISTS’ CORNER

22 Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal ARTIST PROJECT

26 Tamaniitugut (We are Here)

by Aedan Corey

Seeking a reclamation of autonomy in art.

FEATURE

32 Walking within Two Worlds

Four artists discuss queerness, Indigeneity and artmaking.

LEGACY

40 Searching for Inspiration

Queer artists reflect on the works that taught them how to be.

CORRECTION

The Inuktitut title for the article “Performing, Producing and Everything In-Between” was misspelled in our Spring 2025 issue. The correct spelling is “ᓂᑦᔭᓗᑖᑐᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᐃᑦ ᓯᕗᕌᓐᓂ, ᓴᕐᕿᑎᕆᔪᖅ ᓱᓇᓕᒫᓕᕆᑦᓱᓂᓗ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑯᓐᓂᖓᓂ.” The IAQ regrets the error.

The Pride Issue

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ON THE COVER

Kablusiak — Umingmak Circle 2025 Digital drawing © THE ARTIST

LEFT

Kale Sheppard — Fluidity 2022 Mural 3.7 × 60.7 m PHOTO STEPHANE DORGE © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Kunik (kiss) (2025) animation by Glenn Gear in process COURTESY THE ARTIST

Front

MASTHEAD PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

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

Interim Director Mark Turner

President and Publisher Heather Igloliorte Victoria, 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.

Guest Editor Ossie Michelin Tauttunnguaqti Napatsi Folger Managing Editor (interim) Jessica MacDonald

This magazine relies on donations made to the Inuit Art Foundation, a registered charitable organization in Canada (BN #121033724RR0001) and the United States (#980140282).

Managing Editor (on leave) Erin Sylvester

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.

Associate Editor (outgoing) Emily Lawrence

Subscriptions subscribe@inuitartfoundation.org Canada: $33/yr. Excludes GST/HST. US: $44/yr. Elsewhere: $48/yr.

GST/HST #121033724RT0001.

The Inuit Art Quarterly is a member of Magazines Canada.

Publication date of this issue: June 15, 2025 ISSN 0831-6708 Publication Mail Agreement #40050252 Postmaster send address changes to Inuit Art Foundation.

Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to: Inuit Art Foundation 1655 Dupont Street Toronto, ON, M6P 3T1 (647) 498-7717 inuitartfoundation.org ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIAL. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE INUIT ART QUARTERLY ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION. PRINTED IN CANADA. DISTRIBUTED BY MAGAZINES CANADA. FROM TIME TO TIME WE MAKE OUR SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES AVAILABLE TO COMPANIES WHOSE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES WE FEEL MAY BE OF INTEREST TO YOU. TO BE EXCLUDED FROM THESE MAILINGS, PLEASE SEND YOUR REQUEST, ALONG WITH A COPY OF YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MAILING LABEL, TO THE ADDRESS ABOVE.

Associate Editor Melissa Kawaguchi

Assistant Editor Tiffany Raddi Assistant Editor and Copy Editor Carly Brooks

Vice-President Reneltta Arluk Ottawa, ON Secretary-Treasurer Julie Grenier Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC Isabelle Uyaralaaq Avingaq Choquette Montreal, QC Linda Grussani Ottawa, ON Claudette Knight Toronto, ON Michael Massie Kippens, NL Ryan Rice Toronto, ON

Fact Checker Michelle Sones Advertising Manager Nicholas Wattson Art Director Maegan Fidelino Contributing Designer Jess Koroscil Arctic Arts Summit Platform Managing Editor (outgoing) Charissa von Harringa Colour Gas Company Printing TwinPro Graphics Inc. —

FOUNDATION Operations Manager Carolyn Gordon Salesforce Administrator Brittany Holliss Artist Services Manager Amy Norman Awards Manager Paige Connell Program Officer Kyle Natkusiak Aleekuk Special Projects Officer Leanne Inuarak-Dall Special Projects Officer Malayah Maloney Acting Communications Manager Erin Robertson

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

MESSAGE FROM THE INUIT ART FOUNDATION I am thrilled to share this issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly with you to celebrate the diverse and creative vision of Inuit artists across the North.

Guest edited by Labrador Inuk writer and artist Ossie Michelin, the theme of this issue was chosen in celebration of the many 2SLGBTQQIA+ Inuit artists who continue to bring joy and light into our lives, especially during tumultuous times. The Pride Issue also highlights work by artists who explore and expose the challenges of existing as queer Inuit in multiple landscapes that were meant to exclude them—and how they have made space for themselves in order to heal and create. This issue creates space for queer Inuit artists—and speaking of creating space, I am also excited to update you on our search for a new Executive Director. We are currently interviewing wonderful candidates, and by the time you read this, perhaps we will have already shared the exciting news with you!

In the coming months, we hope you’ll join us in welcoming and supporting our first-ever Inuk Executive Director.

On a final note, we want to let you know you’ll be hearing from us again soon, because I’m happy to report that the IAQ will be conducting a readers’ survey in the near future. We know the world has changed a lot since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic (was that really just five years ago?!) and the magazine has changed too. We want to continue to be responsive, reflexive and reciprocal with you, our community of readers, donors, Inuit art supporters and Inuit artists and cultural producers. If you don’t already, subscribe to our newsletter to stay up to date on the forthcoming survey so we can hear your thoughts on how we can better serve you as our dedicated readership.

Your continued support is very meaningful to us, but more importantly, to the Inuit artists we serve. Please feel welcome to email us at any time at contact@inuitartfoundation.org. Thank you so much for creating opportunities for artists to create, connect and share with the world!

This June we celebrate Pride Month with a landmark issue focused on queer Inuit artists!

Yurak — Sun and Sky 2021 Digital illustration © THE ARTIST

DR. HEATHER IGLOLIORTE

IAF Board President and Publisher

COVER SPOTLIGHT

Kablusiak COVER SPOTLIGHT

For the first time ever, the cover of this issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly is a custom commission featuring original, never-beforeseen artwork. The editorial team and our Guest Editor, Ossie Michelin, were united in wanting something colourful that would speak to the joyful side of the queer experience for Inuit. For that we turned to Kablusiak, an accomplished Inuvialuk artist and curator who frequently uses humour in their visual work to approach contemporary Indigenous issues with empathy and support.

After discussing a few different concepts, we decided to take the northern lights—an iconic symbol of the Arctic— and recolour them in rainbow hues, metaphorically waving the Pride flag in the sky. Kablusiak took things one step further in Umingmak Circle (2025) by imagining the lights as a circle of high-contrast neon The Pride Issue

muskoxen, positioned to protect the herd’s young from predators—connecting to the original heart of queer pride as a shield, where the community steps up together to protect the young and vulnerable, as well as each other.

The resulting artwork plays with the idea of queerness as something both emerging today, a modern phenomenon like the emergence of neon lights, but also as something that predates colonization in Inuit communities, an ancient environmental force. The white muskoxen calves in the centre symbolize queer youth but also the queer Inuit art canon, a supernova of potential being nurtured by the artists whose work you will find in the pages of this issue.

IN THIS ISSUE:

Free to Be Me Layered Autonomy — Shaping Identities Conversing and Creating — Inspirational Inuit Queer Artists Look Back

The Pride Issue

Standing Together

JESSICA MACDONALD

Managing Editor 3

Front

Media Partner

FROM THE EDITOR

We are in the midst of an explosion of cultural works from queer Inuit artists, and while this current flourishing of art is thrilling and innovative, it is not the first wave of queer Inuit art—perhaps just the most visible. Along with all other parts of Inuit life, colonization has reshaped Inuit perceptions of sexuality. Anything outside of the heterosexual norm was seen as something to be ashamed of, something to deny, something to keep hidden. These aspects of people’s lives were rarely reflected in stories, histories, records or even artist biographies. While preparing this issue, we ran into many challenges finding historical accounts— outside the European anthropological lens—about Inuit sexuality told by actual Inuit. Queer Inuit artists today do not have an older generation of artists like them to look up to and learn from, and many still feel pressure to stay silent and keep who they are hidden.

Although acceptance of queer Inuit is improving, there is still a long way to go. We had to change direction many times in this issue because some artists were not comfortable having their work featured in a queer issue. All of this further reinforces the importance of this issue: to gather, celebrate and honour the brilliance of queer Inuit artists.

Full Spectrum (2019), made by Two-Spirit Yup’ik and Inupiaq artist Drew Michael, embodies the spirit of this issue. It boldly meets our gaze, is unapologetically bright and colourful, embodies the feminine and the masculine and looks toward a future of possibilities while being firmly rooted in tradition. Full Spectrum challenges us to see everyone, to be inclusive and to shine for all to see. There is something inherently queer about using a mask to show the world who we really are.

This issue features a Legacy portfolio, “Searching for Inspiration: Pathways to Creativity,” in which queer Inuit artists share their thoughts about Inuit art that has inspired them. In their Artist Project, Two-Spirit artist and writer Aedan Corey has created words, photos and art around discussions of Inuit autonomy.

In 5 Werks we are serving Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013) realness, as the playful vernacular of the ballroom scene is applied to a colourful array of her arctic bird prints. “Walking within Two Worlds” brings us a thoughtful and personal roundtable about queerness, Indigeneity and artmaking. Throughout the article, Darcie Bernhardt, Lisi Etok, Glenn Gear and the late Jenny Irene share artist projects they created inspired by their conversation. Last Look considers the importance of queer Inuit visibility through the dance performance Anxiety (2025), the directorial debut of Two-Spirit Inuk performing artist Simik Komaksiutiksak.

What becomes abundantly clear when looking at the various works by 2SLGBTQQIA+ Inuit artists in this issue is the sheer diversity and talent present that is transforming Inuit art. Queer Inuit art is flourishing, and a nascent canon is beginning to coalesce. We may not have had an older generation of openly queer Inuit artists to look up to, but what we do have is each other, and we can be there for the generations that come next.

Welcome to The Pride Issue of the Inuit Art Quarterly! This issue celebrates 2SLGBTQQIA+ Inuit art of all kinds.

As Guest Editor, I knew right away that I wanted to dedicate this issue to queer Inuit art and artists, even the ones we do not know about. I chose Pride as our theme because it is important that queer Inuit are not just visible but recognized and celebrated.

Drew Michael — Full Spectrum 2019 Yellow cedar, acrylic and brass rod 33 × 19.1 × 10.2 cm

Ossie Michelin Guest Editor

PHOTO JAMES SIGNORETTI © THE ARTIST

The Pride Issue

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Front

THANK YOU

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

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

Gifts listed here were made between March 1, 2024, and March 31, 2025.

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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Summer 2025

THANK YOU

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

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

Mike and Cindy MacMillan Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Roxanne McCaig Joanna Miazga Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Rachel O’Neill Kara Pearce Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price David Pride Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Leslie Reid Eva Riis-Culver Margerit Roger Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Sheila Rowe Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Kassie Ruth

Jennifer Fryer 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 Aphantasia Indigo Lynn Jackson Amy Jenkins Melinda Josie Rozanne Junker Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Dr. Claudette Knight M. A. Konantz Katarina Kupca Dr. Simon E. Lappi Lazarus Barnes Foundation Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee Jacqueline Littlewood Laura Macdonald

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 David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule P. Colleen Suche 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 Ed Winters Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith and six anonymous donors

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

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

Eleanor R. Erikson Judith Gavin Bryan Hellwig Warren Howard

The Pride Issue

Scott B. White Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl Bea Zizlavsky and one anonymous donor

Kathleen Lippa Kara Pearce Judy Sever Richard Sourkes

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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 TD Ready Commitment $25,000–$49,999 Terra Foundation for American Art at The Chicago Community Foundation and one anonymous donor $10,000–$24,999 The Chodos Family Fund $5,000–$9,999 René Balcer and Carolyn Hsu-Balcer Eleanor R. Erikson Joe Miller $2,500–$4,999 Christopher Bredt and Jamie Cameron Gabrielle Campbell Patricia and Donald Dodds Dr. Simon E. Lappi MakeWay Foundation Lewis Auerbach and Barbara Legowski Donor Advised Fund Shannon Norberg and Jarvis Hall Paul Pizzolante ON and Carole Pizzolante Kassie Ruth Hunter Thompson $1,000–$2,499 Arctic Co-operatives Limited Blair Assaly Judy Banning Lissy Bryan Clench House Foundation Yvonne C. Condell Hal Dietz

Inuit Art Quarterly

Marian Dodds, in memory of Dedie Dodds Maria Drangova and David Holdsworth Engelstad Family Thomas Fath Patricia Feheley Harald Finkler and Nadine Nickner Peter Gillespie, in memory of Ly Solomon on behalf of the Solomon and Gillespie Fund Janice Gonsalves Peter Goring Sari Hannila, in honour of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Inuit survivors, and the artists who tell Inuit stories. ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ Carol Heppenstall Jackman Foundation Smaro Kamboureli Rawlson O’Neil King Charles Kingsley Katarina Kupca Lazarus Barnes Foundation Kathleen Lippa Maija M. Lutz and Peter A. Tassia David and Elizabeth Macdonald Elizabeth Mitchell and Stephen Lloyd Joram Piatigorsky Ann Posen, in honour of David Braidberg John and Joyce Price H. Sanford Riley Margerit Roger Paula Santrach Judy Sever Barbara Turner Gail Vanstone Jaan Whitehead Craig Wilbanks and Monty Kehl

Susan Wortzman and Glenn Smith Norman Zepp and Judith Varga and two anonymous donors (2 , 1 )

Illannarijaujut Tunngavinngmit $500–$999 Jim Bader and Merri Van Dyke Vincent and Barbara Barresi Devony Baugh Myriam Blais Katharine Bocking Gary Boratto Anne Borchardt, in memory of Claus Borchardt Elise Brais Margaret Bursaw, in memory of John Maounis Gordon Davidson Kate Doorly Keith R. Evans KC Maxime Fortin Alain Fournier Jennifer Fryer Judith Gavin Linda Grussani Jackie Hatherly-Martin and Keith Martin Bryan Hellwig Mark Hirschman Paul Kay, in memory of Temma Gentles Sonya Kelliher-Combs Ellen Lehman and Charles Kennel Hesty Leibtag Nagesh Mahanthappa Kathryn Minard, to honour the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation Cathy Moser and Jeff Itzkow

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

Charles Moss and Dee Fenner Lucie Nadeau Allan Newell Donna and Hal Olsen Martin Pâquet Don Pether Bill and LuAnn Polk Alysa Procida and Kevin Stewart Leslie Reid Sheila Rowe Lydia Y. and S. Frank Sakurai Fund Celine Saucier Ann and Wayne Tompkins Mark David Turner Joel and Evelyn Umlas Peter Van Brunt Paddy Wales Nicholas Wattson Kim Wiebe and Aubrey Margolis Catherine Wilkes and three anonymous donors (2 , 2 ) $250–$499 James Abel, in honour of Xanthipi Abel Amy Adams Beecroft Fine Art Jody Bowle-Evans Tobi Bruce John and Elaine Butcher Rebecca Carbin Sue Carter S. and D. Charlesworth David Cherepacha Shelley Chochinov Cobalt Art Gallery Dr. Anne Croy Dr. Raymond Currie and Charlene Thacker Currie Philip Davis Alexis de Talhouët Anne-Marie Delaunay-Danizio

Summer 2025

THANK YOU

Neil Devitt Dr. Sara L. Diamond Sophie Dorais Nathalie Ducamp Leah Erickson Alison Freebairn Jesse Goodman Deborah D. Gordon John Hanjian and Carmen Nowak Celia Harte Dianne Hayman Ingo Hessel Debby and Brian Hirsch Joanne Hommik Robert Hurst Heather Igloliorte and Matthew Brulotte Dr. Claudette Knight Kenneth R. Lister Jacqueline Littlewood Laura Macdonald Susan L. Marrier Michael Martens, in memory of Miriam Bordofsky Joanna Miazga Robert Michaud Iet Muylwyk Quirien Muylwyk Paul Newman and Tomokazu Nakamura Michael and Brenda Noone S. O’Hara Louisa O’Reilly Penny Pattinson Kara Pearce Felicity Pope Eva Riis-Culver Bruce Roberts Brian Rogers, dedicated to Reissa Gibbs Susan Rowley Carol-Ann Ryan and Dr. Matthew Follwell Michael Ryan Leslie Saxon West Joanne Schmidt, in loving memory of Gail Schmidt Charmaine Spencer Adam Steinberg George and Jacqueline Szabo Geoff Tadema Jay and Deborah Thomson Émilie Tremblay Helen Tremblay T. Vatrt Robert and Brenda Watson

The Pride Issue

M. Colleen Glass Anik Glaude Carole Gobeil Claire Gold Gold/Joy Fund (2025) at the Community Foundation for Greater Buffalo Karen and George Gorsline Patricia Grattan Kristine Greenaway Tekla Harms Cary Hart, in honour of Margaret Smith-Burke Sheila Hart, in support of amazing artists!

Lisa R. Hartman Malene Hjorngaard Jane Horner Cynthia Hosick Warren Howard Andrew Hubbertz Mike Hurry James and Linda Igloliorte Cana Uluak Itchuaqiyaq Lynn Jackson Jeannette Jackson-Thompson, in memory of Richard C. Thompson Drs. Laurence and Katherine Jacobs Amy Jenkins Missy Jensen The Josie Family Melinda Josie Rozanne Junker Anne Kearns Mildred Kerr Jo-Ann Kolmes M. A. Konantz Nancy and Terry Lee Rebecca Lee William Lee Val Lem Jacob Lewis, in gratitude to Dr. Martin Shaw Gillian Loch, in memory of Warren Nelson Lois Loewen Daryl and Marilyn Logan Denis Longchamps Marie Loyer Mike and Cindy MacMillan Dr. Jure Manfreda and Henriette Ricou Ron and Evelyn Matthews Paul Mayer Irene Mazurkewich

Gord and Laurie Webster Peggy Weller Judy Willson Gail Wylie and Dave Wright Margie Zivin and seven anonymous donors (1 , 3 ) $100–$249 Sylvia and John Aldrich Patricia Allen Eleanor Allgood Mary Anglim asinnajaq Aspire Adventure Running Catherine Badke Joanne Beauvais Brian Belchamber Catherine Birt Molly Blyth Robbin Bond Hon Patricia Bovey Jennifer Brown Stephen Bulger Gillian Calder Dorothy Caldwell Jim and Mary F. Campbell Carol A. Cole Catherine Cole Patricia Conway Kay Cookie Cartwright Aylan Couchie, in memory of Mary Beaucage-ban (Nipissing First Nation) Charles and Arline Crockford Ruby Cruz Fred and Mary Cutlers Celia Denov Michael and Honor de Pencier Foundation Emmanuelle A. Desrochers Kelly Dickinson Mathieu Doucette F. Dumaine Melanie Egan Leslie E. Eisenberg Fran Enright Yasemin Eroglu and Hakan Ersoy Andy Fallas Lynn Feasey Shirley Finfrock Chun Fong Dana Forsman Ed Friedman JoAnne and Richard Fuerst Rebecca Gimmi

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Roxanne McCaig Elizabeth McKeown Mary McLaren, in memory of Ian and Bernice McLaren Chris and Katie Medl Colin Mein David Muir Scott Mullin Jennifer Nadeau Gary Nelson Peter Noteboom Rachel O’Neill Leon Oberlander Marina Oeler Douglas Palmerton Kate Permut Ed Pien David Pride David and Robin Procida Maximilien Raab Lenore Ralph Blaine Rapp, in memory of Helen Rapp Ron and Sigrid Rhodes Joan Robertson Elizabeth Robinson Kerstin Roger, on behalf of Margerit Roger Sheila Romalis, in memory of Lorne Balshine Richard and Yvonne Rothenberg Lise R. Morneau Jonathan Beth and Rex Rutchik Frances Scheidel, in memory of Thomas M. Scheidel Kathryn Scott Lesley and David Serkoak Paul Shackel and Barbara Little Mark Shiner Maureen Simpson Paul J. Skahan Scenery Slater Jean-Claude Sommier Joyce and Fred Sparling Janet Sponagle David Sproule, in memory of Jean Katherine Sproule Garry and Judy Stephanson, in memory of Warren Nelson Pierre Stevens P. Colleen Suche Mark Swartz Jacek Szulc William Taylor Marie-Josée Therrien

Front

THANK YOU

James and Louise Vesper Jon and Diane Vickery Nancy Walkling, in memory of Frank Walkling Naluturuk Weetaluktuk Elka Weinstein Karen Westrell and Bill Rosser Scott B. White Amanda Whitney Ed Winters Judy Wolfe and six anonymous donors (1 , 2 , 1 ) Up to $99 April Adan, in dedication to Mattiusi Iyaituk Eric Anderson Andrea Arnold Carolyn Barfoot Maddie Beaulieu Gordon Best Susan Bielawski Barb Bizub CanadaHelps William Crosby Dennis Crowley Anna De Aguayo

Michael de Pencier Cathy Degryse Tracey Doherty Huw Eirug Jane Ely Ron and Anne Foster Paula Frisch Glenn Gear Philip Goldring Birgitte and Ronald Granofsky Susan C. Griswold Katherine Gunn Bryan Hayter Kathryn Heller-McRoberts Aphantasia Indigo Hannie Kallergis DK Karine L’Ecuyer Bristol Lakshas David Leonard Rebecca Lessard Eileen London Samia Madwar, in honour of Hazar Shawaf Kathy Mallett Geraldine and Peter Marshall Caitlin McIntyre, in honour of Nelson Zabel

Lindsay Aksarniq McIntyre Patrick A. McLean Kane and Bailee McNamara Mary Jane Mikkelsen Joyce and Mike Miller, dedicated to the City of Thunder Bay Sandra Miller Sanchez Marie Moet Darren Mountain Nanooq Inuit Art Lou Nelson Bonnie Park Annie Peace Laurie Petronis Steve Potocny Hélène Poulin Pauline Provencher Dr. Diane Ravenscroft Marilyn Robinson Greg Rogers and Blandina Makkik, in honour of Inuit artists and the magazine that educates us Irene Rokaw Louise Rolingher Anita Romaniuk Judith C. Saeger

Melanie Sampson N. Jerimiah Sappington Archatea Sarmiento DasGupta Peter Sarsfield Janet Savard Anthony Stewart Cathy Stilo Superstar X Inc. Carlos Swazrtza Kevin Sylvester Pauline Taggart Sylvia Taylor James Tooley Matt Traversy Laurie Tretina Glenn Tunnock Feliz Tupe Cindy Van Eindhoven Patrizia Villani John Weber Joan White William Wood and seven anonymous donors (1 , 5 )

You can make the difference The IAQ has changed and grown a lot over the years. Thank you for supporting the evolution of the IAQ. And thank you for investing in Inuit artists and their art. You are making a tangible difference in the lives and careers of artists across Inuit Nunangat.

To learn more about how to support artists, please contact us at 647-498-7717 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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Summer 2025

Exhibition

May 24–October 12, 2025

Tarralik Duffy: Klik My Heels

ᑕᕐᕋᓕᒃ ᑕᕕ − ᑲᓱᑲᑦᑕᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᑭᒻᒦᒃᑲ Above: Tarralik Duffy, Klik, 2023, leather and thread. Photo: Daisy Wu, courtesy of WAG-Qaumajuq.

5 WERKS

Ballroom Birds

by Ossie Michelin GUEST EDITOR

Ballroom culture has originated much of the playful and evocative language used in queer spaces and beyond, permeating the modern 2SLGBTQQIA+ community through fashion, language, drag and dance. Queer culture has also always looked to strong women for inspiration. Divas like Judy Garland, Dolly Parton and even Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013), have taught us to push through the darkness to show the world our true colours. YASSS QUEEN!!

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Owl’s Bouquet (2007) Category is: Best Dressed. As though standing at the end of a glamorous runway, Ashevak’s Owl’s Bouquet strikes a pose and models Ashevak’s eye for colour and design. The owl’s gaze and posture exude poise and confidence, softened by a headpiece of glorious flowers that balances effortlessly, cascading behind them like colourful flowing hair. The roughly textured browns and greys of the owl’s plumage contrast with the smooth shifting colours of the extravagant flowers.

This luxurious headpiece would fit in at any Pride celebration, drag performance or fashion runway!

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Gulls and Ravens (2001) Kenojuak Ashevak is MOTHER. Here in Gulls and Ravens, she takes two of the most monochromatic of birds, whose plumage usually appears in a greyscale, and serves instead a kaleidoscopic rainbow cacophony of corvid chaos—you can almost hear the squawking and cawing. The fluid shapes and swirling colours evoke the movement of squabbling birds, while at the same time the birds look like piles of plucked feathers dancing on the wind. The inverted colours of the ravens and gulls, coupled with the rainbow hues, allow printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi’s, RCA (1947–2015), lithography to shine through.

ABOVE (LEFT)

Kenojuak Ashevak — Owl’s Bouquet 2007 Printmaker Qavavau Manumie Stonecut and stencil 62.2 × 77 cm ALL REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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ABOVE (RIGHT)

OPPOSITE (TOP LEFT)

Gulls and Ravens 2001 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 57 × 76.6 cm

Courting Loon 2008 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 56 × 76.5 cm

COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

COURTESY FIRST ARTS

Summer 2025

5 WERKS

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Courting Loon (2008) She’s giving floral. She’s giving feathers. She’s giving Courting Loon realness. Once again Ashevak finds new and interesting ways to bring colour to her black-and-white arctic birds. This time a black-and-white loon carries in its beak a bouquet of red and pink flowers—soft pink, blue and green hues that resemble the colours of the polysexual Pride flag. The way the flowers stream behind the loon as they swim along the water’s surface suggests movement, like this loon is in a hurry to go court their potential mate. Love is love, whether it is of the human or feathered kind.

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Feathered Rainbow (2002) Bringing us rainbow-feathered fantasy extravaganza! When there are no rainbows in the sky, we make our own. Ashevak is not afraid to ruffle a few feathers in Feathered Rainbow, choosing bright and vibrant colours to depict her iconic birds.

Gradients of blue, purple and gold reveal the iridescent rainbow hidden within the feathers of the tulugâluit’s wings. Ashevak shows her mastery of symmetry and balance here, using the birds to almost form a colourful smiling face that would make any drag artist proud. Beat for the gods!

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Primal Exchange (2001) Serving Corvid Uniqueness, Nerve and Talent. The two birds, similar yet different, top and bottom, are embraced in an endless circle of lovemaking, lying upon a rainbow blanket strewn with their black-andwhite feathers. Viewing Primal Exchange through a queer lens, it is sexual in nature, but nothing about the birds indicates gender. Instead they hold space for the viewer to understand the image through their own perception and experiences. The composition suggests a duality and unity all at once, a black-and-white binary set atop a colourful gradient of possibilities.

The Pride Issue

ABOVE (RIGHT)

Feathered Rainbow 2002 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 57.4 × 76.3 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS

LEFT

Primal Exchange 2001 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 55.3 × 70 cm COURTESY FIRST ARTS

13

Front

JUN 18 →DEC 6 2025

Wednesday 12 p.m. to 7 p.m.

Thursday to Saturday 12 p.m. to 5 p.m.

1982

Belonging

Free admission

Rosalie Favell

2024

CURATED BY

Ryan Rice

Rosalie Favell, My first day of assimulation, 1996 (remastered 2024) from the series From An Early Age. Image courtesy of the artist.

199 Richmond St. W. Toronto ON, M5V 0H4

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CHOICE

Sonya Kelliher-Combs Remnant, Moose Legging

by Nawang Tsomo Kinkar

Inuit Art Quarterly

16

Summer 2025

CHOICE

How fragile is the look exchanged between an artwork and the viewer?

My wandering eyes find the darkish grey-brown presence inside the square box. I feel my vision abruptly focus as my body inches closer, trying to detect what it is that has me squinting. The moment of realization comes sooner than I think.

Between confirming that what I was looking at is a commercially tanned moose legging and searching within its box for other clues to lead me to a familiar place in my scope of understanding, another realization dawns on me: the fickle nature of the viewer’s gaze.

The beginnings of Sonya Kelliher-Combs’s Remnant series can be traced to 2016 and also includes pieces of caribou antler, bird feathers and seal intestines. Remnant, Moose Legging (2024) consists of five moose leggings, each displayed in its own wooden frame and encased in a gel medium that mimics glass.

Hunted by her father two years ago in their hometown of Sitŋasuaq (Nome), Alaska—a place with a population of approximately 3,700 where the practice is monitored by a lottery system—the leggings were harvested from two moose.

Kelliher-Combs received eight tanned leggings from her father. She made six into artworks and exhibited five as part of this series. In a 2024 interview at Catriona Jeffries with writer and curator Heather Igloliorte, the artist explained that arriving at five for Remnant, Moose Legging, rather than four or eight, was a conscious choice made to contend with her exploration of control in the work: five points to the absence of another moose and also signals its partial presence. This simultaneous absence and presence reflects the lack of Indigenous sovereignty over land

and resources through state control over traditional hunting practices.

Each legging is not entirely contained within its box: part of each hoof presses outward, the protrusions marking the threshold between the viewer and the piece. None of them are identical, but my gaze fixates on one. The red thread in this one draws me in, making me aware of another protrusion—a porcupine quill.

I find myself consistently aware of the glass between a work inside a museum and myself. The glass is a physical barrier—true, though it follows me even when no glass is actually present. These layers—physical or metaphorical—which stand between the viewer and the physical artwork, and the viewer and their understanding of the artwork, are the slow and steady work of control, of whiteness and of settler-colonialism.

In placing these hooves inside gel, Kelliher-Combs has made her work impenetrable like the museum glass and pristine like the gallery space. But the protrusions push past those barriers, extending onto the way we might hold our gaze. The way we might look.

My final look at Kelliher-Combs’s hoof: it’s an uneasy realization to know that the glass that follows me is not here anymore. For now. The protrusion signals an impending unravelling. And I find myself indulging in this act of looking—however careless that might be.

— Nawang Tsomo Kinkar is an emerging writer and curator based between Toronto, ON, and Winnipeg, MB. She is the inaugural recipient of the TD Curatorial Fellowship at WAG-Qaumajuq and the 2025–2026 Writing Fellow at Gallery TPW. Her writing has been published by 10x10 Photobooks, Public Parking and Peripheral Review.

Sonya Kelliher-Combs — Remnant, Moose Legging 2024 Commercially tanned moose legging, wood frame, acrylic polymer, moose and caribou fur, acrylic paint, porcupine quill and nylon thread 61 × 61 cm COURTESY CATRIONA JEFFRIES © THE ARTIST

The Pride Issue

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Front

CHOICE

Omalluq Oshutsiaq Drying Caribou Meat and Fish

by Arnatsiaq Qvist

Inuit Art Quarterly

18

Summer 2025

CHOICE

I don’t just see a process when I look at Oshutsiaq’s drawing. I see my own family and my childhood. I think about how these acts connect us, how they have always connected us as Inuit.

I was standing in an exhibition at the Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq in Manitoba when, suddenly, the gallery got quiet. Time flew by when I first saw Drying Caribou Meat and Fish (2014) by Omalluq Oshutsiaq (1948–2014). The artwork, for me, was not just a drawing. It was knowledge, memory, survival, family and love, all laid out in pencil and paper.

Oshutsiaq was an artist from Kinngait, NU, whose drawings capture moments of everyday life and hold immense power in their simplicity. In Drying Caribou Meat and Fish, she captures an essential survival process rooted in deep knowledge passed down over generations, shaped by necessity but held together by care.

The act of drying caribou meat and fish is not just about preparing food. It’s about reading the environment, timing and working together as a family. You don’t just hang meat anywhere: you must choose where the air will circulate and where the sun will help but not spoil it.

When I look at this drawing, I also see time spent together, a family working side by side to carefully prepare food that will last through the long winter months.

In this drawing it’s a family of women: you see a girl in a pink dress standing in the centre, her back to the viewer,

her hair neatly braided. To her right, a woman in a blue top works on a large sealskin hide, carefully cutting pieces of meat. To the left, a child in a pink sweater and checkered skirt carries two buckets filled with water. A baby, also in pink, sits on the ground. In front of them is a large white tent, and above it meat and fish hang on wooden racks to dry.

Their labour is about patience, understanding the land and weather, respecting what is given, ensuring nothing is wasted and caring for your family. I don’t just see a process when I look at Oshutsiaq’s drawing. I see my own family and my childhood. I think about how these acts connect us, how they have always connected us as Inuit. Drying meat and fish is a thread in a much larger weave of relationships between people, between generations, between ourselves and the land, my connections to food and family and how these rituals, as seasons change, have shaped who I am today and my values. It is also the compositional choices Oshutsiaq made that create this sense of connectedness. The layers in the drawings, the framing of the drying rack against the tent, grounded on the land, the clothing of all the women and girls,

and how all the rocks—from the shore on the right to the rocky path the girl with the buckets of water is on—connect the elements.

Art has the power to make us pause, to remind us of what we carry with us, of what we have inherited. Oshutsiaq’s drawing does precisely that. It takes something that might otherwise be an act of everyday life and reminds us that even the most everyday tasks—preparing food, sewing and taking care of each other—are not just tasks but part of a much larger story.

I left the gallery carrying that feeling.

In a world that often moves too fast, traditions can sometimes feel distant for an urban Inuk. When I viewed this work, things stopped momentarily. It made me appreciate my background, family and the love and care I received growing up.

Oshutsiaq’s Drying Caribou Meat and Fish is a quiet, powerful reminder that there is beauty every day and strength in remembering.

— Arnatsiaq Qvist is a writer, sewist and a Northern Policy School Specialist at Indigenous Youth Roots. She is currently based in Winnipeg, MB.

Omalluq Oshutsiaq — Drying Caribou Meat and Fish 2014 Graphite, coloured pencil and felt pen 50.8 × 68.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ © THE ARTIST

The Pride Issue

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Front

ᑕᕐᕿᑕᒫᑦ tarqitamaat.ca

Artist of the month Mattiusi Iyaituk Iqaluullamiluuq helps a lost hunter at sea by calling him with her beautiful voice, Granite, serpentine, caribou antler and India ink, 2013 Photo: Avataq Cultural Institute, Marie-Christine Couture

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

Jason Sikoak, Inukaluk : Sliding; Inukaluk : First Seal, 2024.

 Spotlight on Nunatsiavut artist JASON SIKOAK

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

Q AVAVAU M A N U M I E - U N T I T L E D ( 0 7 2 - 3 0 5 3 ) - 2 6 ” X 5 0 “ - C O LO U R E D P E N C I L & I N K

606 VIEW STREET W W W . M A D R O

The Pride Issue

VIC TORIA, N A G A

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BC L L

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250.380.4660 R Y . C O M

Front

ARTISTS’ CORNER

Are You an Inuit Artist Looking to Connect with Other Creatives?

Join the Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal today! resources like virtual workshops and meet-and-greets, and easy access to grants, career opportunities, exclusive artist-only content and more.

Here’s a sneak peek at exclusive content available only to DQAP members: monthly interviews where artists share tips and best practices that can help others at any stage in their careers.

The ability to connect with other creatives is integral for artists’ growth and development. That’s why the Developing Qanuqtuurniq: Artist Portal (DQAP) exists—it’s an Inuit-only online resource developed by Inuit artists, for Inuit artists, to help grow their careers.

Through DQAP, artists can connect with each other through the easy-to-use web platform, while also having access to integral

ABOVE

Jessica Malegana — Aspirations 2023 Digital illustration © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Cora Kavyaktok — Gold Series 29 2024 Jewellery Bristol Sanatu Lakshas Digital photograph

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Bristol Sanatu Lakshas — Toxx Plume (still) 2022 VFX animation 30 sec © THE ARTIST

© THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

ARTISTS’ CORNER

COURTESY THE ARTIST

Iñupiaq interdisciplinary artist Bristol Sanatu Lakshas knows how important connecting with other artists and designers is for professional development.

By day, Lakshas works as a technical artist designing visual effects and animation tools for video games. After her nine-to-five, Lakshas’s art brain continues to tick, creating in a variety of mediums like mixed-media sculpture, sewing, crocheting, beading and more.

In this excerpt, Lakshas shares advice for aspiring VFX artists, how she stays creative and how DQAP has helped her collaborate with other Inuit artists.

What advice do you have for others, especially women, looking to break into the game design industry?

Never back down. You’ve got to go into this industry with confidence in yourself and your abilities—stand up for yourself.

Bark if you feel like your stuff is good, go tell the world, “My stuff is good, fund my game!” or “Hire me!” Also, build a selection of reference material that you like working off of. For VFX, I typically use a blog forum called Real Time VFX. It’s a place where artists talk and try to solve problems together. For outside VFX, YouTube is a great resource, as well as Unreal Engine/ Unity forums and ArtStation.

You’re very creative in both your work and personal life. How do you manage it without burning out?

Recently, what works for me is to keep my momentum going—treating art like a skill you have to use, otherwise you lose it. Even when I am feeling a little bit burnt out I try to do something a little bit artistic,

or just goofy. Right now I am working on a sculpture of a seal using found materials.

I had a bunch of cardboard from Amazon boxes, and thought, “I’ve got hot glue, I’ve got cardboard, I can make some papier mâché, so I’m making a little cardboard seal.” Right now, it’s more about the joy of making for me.

What do you like to connect with other artists about?

I would love to keep doing collaborations.

Last year I met photographer Cora Kavyaktok through a DQAP virtual meet-and-greet. Afterwards, I reached out to her and asked if she’d be willing to do a Trade for Portfolio (a non-monetary, equal collaboration between artists to trade skills for portfolio expansion and skill development). I made a matching collar and earring set in gold, and she took photos with her models wearing the jewellery.

A couple of Cora’s photos featuring my jewellery ended up in the 2024 exhibition Creation Stories at Art Mûr in Montreal, QC, so that’s kind of cool!

Want to connect with artists like Lakshas?

If you’re an Inuit artist, visit inuitartfoundation.org/portal to sign up for the Portal to connect and gain access to more exclusive content.

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

The Pride Issue

23

Front

June 7 - August 16, 2025

Ijilauqsimajugut / Takusimajugut We Were Hidden / We Are Seen www.saw-centre.com

www.debaser.ca

KABLUSIAK

333b – 36 Avenue SE, Calgary AB

norberghall.com

(

) e r e H e r a e W

—

by Aedan Corey

Queer Inuk artist Aedan Corey reflects on Inuit sovereignty through digital drawings, poetry and photography. Collectively titled Tamaniitugut (We are Here) (2022), these pieces examine Inuit identity and sovereignty in many different forms, highlighting the need for the reclamation of autonomy.

Whether this be through practicing our spirituality, exercising our hunting rights, speaking our language, receiving or giving our tattoos or further expressing ourselves in ways that directly oppose colonial frameworks, this work is imperative to the process of healing from traumas sometimes older than ourselves.

Father lays on the ground I, behind him, the snow crunching with each movement.

I watch as he breathes in— the sound of the rifle punches my ears— out.

The caribou drops.

Savages, they say with mouths that know the taste of plenty, while the man down the street feeds the community with his catch.

Tell us, with your full bellies that our children deserve to starve, then take them if they do.

PREVIOUS

Aedan Corey — Aqsarniit 2022 Digital drawing

Our lives are not yours to place value on.

Inuit Art Quarterly

ALL © THE ARTIST

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ABOVE (LEFT)

Inuuktituurunnalaaqpunga 2022 Digital drawing

OPPOSITE

Untitled 2022 Beaded chest binder and skirt

ABOVE (RIGHT)

Untitled 2022 Digital drawing

Summer 2025

The Pride Issue

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Tamaniitugut (We are Here)

Layer after layer of ink settles into the skin.

A history of stories I wonder if this is mine— is yours now too— a body full of stories.

We cry in agreement because it feels like coming home.

ABOVE & RIGHT

Ilagiit 2022 Photographs of tattoo stencils OPPOSITE (TOP)

Iji 2022 Digital drawing OPPOSITE (BOTTOM)

Untitled 2022 Digital drawing

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

I will not be ashamed of who I am under the guise of traditionalism.

This identity exists far before me, in different forms.

Fear fuelled judgment cannot strip me of my ancestors’ love.

I will take this love and call that Traditional.

— Writer, traditional Inuit tattooist and emerging visual artist Aedan Corey’s work is heavily inspired by their lived experiences as a queer, neurodivergent Inuk.

Raised in Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU, they began creating art at a young age. Corey’s goal is always to inspire and advocate for those within their communities through their artistic practices, letting others know that they are not alone. Corey currently resides in Ottawa, ON.

This Artist Project was originally published at IAQ Online.

It is made possible through support from the Canada Council for the Arts.

The Pride Issue

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Tamaniitugut (We are Here)

WALKING WITHIN

TWO WORLDS We are saddened to announce that Jenny Irene passed away shortly before this issue went to press. She will be remembered as a celebrated role model and mentor in the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community, as well as a gifted artist whose work has been displayed around the world.

During this roundtable conversation, the Inuit Art Quarterly spoke with four artists about queerness, Indigeneity and how being members of both queer and Indigenous communities informs their artmaking.

These artists included Darcie Bernhardt, a nonbinary, transmasc Inuvialuk and Gwich’in visual artist from Tuktuuyaqtuuq, Inuvialuit Settlement Region, NT, and Teetł’it Zheh (Fort McPherson), NT; Lisi Etok, a lesbian and Two-Spirit Inuk multimedia artist from Ivujivik, Nunavik, QC; Glenn Gear, an Indigiqueer animator, filmmaker and visual artist of mixed Inuit heritage from Corner Brook, NL, whose dad is from Adlatok Bay, Nunatsiavut, NL; and the late Jenny Irene, a queer Inupiaq visual and interdisciplinary artist and arts educator from Sitŋasuaq (Nome), Alaska, whose family is from Kiŋigin (Wales), Alaska.

Following this roundtable, the artists created original works within their preferred art forms inspired by their conversation. These works are reproduced for the first time alongside their conversation, including Bernhardt’s painting, tiktauyaq (is carried out to sea on floating ice) (2025); Etok’s mixed-media piece, Isurrik (2025); Gear’s digital moving picture frame, Kunik (kiss) (2025); and Jenny Irene’s photograph, Family portrait (2025).

INUIT ART QUARTERLY: What does queerness mean to you?

JENNY IRENE: What I love about queerness is that it’s not static or bound, and, within that, there’s opportunity for growth and a continuation of learning about who I am.

LISI ETOK: To me queerness is not only your sexuality and gender but also your politics, or how you engage with others in the world; it’s more empathetic. So it’s not just sexuality and attraction, it’s also how you interact with people, platonically and socially.

GLENN GEAR: I love the idea that queerness and empathy go together; that definitely resonates with me. For me the term queer is a point of visibility; it’s a celebration of diversity and, in that way, similar to what Jenny said, it’s a term that is constantly in flux and redefining itself—and I think there’s a power within that.

DARCIE BERNHARDT: I think of queerness more metaphorically, like ice that has broken away from an ice bridge, broken away from social heteronormativity, that flows and weaves and goes through all the cycles.

So for me it’s this sustainable space in this world that you create through community care, and I think of it as flowing—it’s kind of learning and relearning your truest form.

JI: I really relate to that, Darcie, that it’s flowing and that there is community within queerness. For me it’s who I am, and I feel like there’s power in identifying as queer, too. When I was talking about growth, it means that I can find new ways to identify if I learn new terminology or if I learn more about myself as I continue to age and learn from others. So there’s a lot of beauty in it, too.

IAQ: You all come from different regions of Inuit Nunaat and are pretty familiar with the shared aspects as well as the differences amongst your cultures—that you have nuanced experiences being Inuit. So what does it mean to you to be a queer Inuk artist?

LE: I saw a photo of Kablusiak’s sculpture Butt Plug (2018), and I was so amazed that there’s an Inuk artist using steatite to make something so lewd but so simple.

And it spoke to me, that being queer doesn’t take away from your Inukness.

GG: For myself I currently like the term Indigiqueer because it puts my gender and sexual identity and my Indigeneity in one word. But in terms of intersectionality, I think about different knowledge bases coming together, such as urban queer culture and Nunatsiavummiut culture, and these aspects being embodied in this one person. I want to be visible as a whole, complex person, and that person may be in flux and may change over time, but intersectionality means I don’t have to compartmentalize all those different aspects of myself; I can bring them together into a space that acknowledges and celebrates personhood in that complexity.

Inuit Art Quarterly

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JI: I can’t separate the two and say, “Oh today, I’m just going to be queer, and then tomorrow I’m going to be really Inupiaq.” What I think is so great about being a queer Inupiaq artist is that I’m guided by values that have been instilled within me by my family and our nonhuman kin. I’m grateful to be where I’m at now, to be finding much strength in those identities.

DB: I think of artists as being vessels that you’re creating through your memories and the people in your life. With any work that I make, I am telling the story; I’m telling parts that I want to keep for myself and parts that I want to show, and for me that’s always an important process because I feel very selective.

There is a vulnerability as an artist, but it’s also like this window of shared experiences, understanding and connection that you can create with people in the audience, especially with other queer people.

Being able to be queer and show that in very subtle or meaningful ways is so rewarding for me as a member of the younger generation of queer Inuit artists because of that shared connection. And I love the humour in the works we make too; Kablusiak’s piece is so honest and vulnerable, but it’s also a very funny portrayal of what it is to be queer and Inuit.

LE: Another part of intersectionality for me is reading other queer Indigenous people’s works. I’ve been reading jaye simpson’s book of poetry it was never going to be okay (2020), and even though we’re not from the same nations, I find a lot of comfort and peace reading their poetry—not only from the similar joyful experiences but also from the similar painful experiences, like navigating homophobia and intolerance within our respective communities.

IAQ: How is your artmaking, as well as your perspective on art, informed by both your culture and your queerness?

JI: My Inupiaq family has taught me patience, a slow, thoughtful way of observation. My late great-grandpa, Willie Senungetuk, was an avid documenter of his days in his journals, and there’s this story of him going seal hunting, being out on the ice for hours and just observing those subtle movements of the sea ice, and it made me think about how his skills as a hunter continue with me in a very different yet similar way.

When I make photographs, especially portraits of people, I’m slow in my process; I don’t take out my camera right away, and when I do, I’m observing their subtle movements, letting them become more at ease in front of the camera. So I like to think of my photographs as a careful way of looking, similar to my late great-grandpa, and when sharing my images I’m also telling people to slow down to look and read the images.

As a queer person, I’ve always had to read between the lines while living in a homophobic and transphobic society, and this reminds me of my work and how this way of reading between the lines is part of queerness and is an opportunity for poetic storytelling in my work: I choose what I show in my photographs and how they’re sequenced—what is unseen, what is seen, what is refused—and within that is power. Earlier in

Summer 2025

“As I weave and flow, I’m learning about different vessels of being queer, Inuit and Gwich’in, and how those vessels can exist through me, and that weaving is reflected in this painting. In the discussion I kept imagining ice melting, drifting and flowing through water.

I have created my communities where I continue to learn and understand about myself through collaboration with others. I feel that having that discussion allowed me to find similarities with other queer Inuit and this amazing community we are creating.

Like ice breaking, we are leaving and taking remnants of ideas, humour and stories of queerness and joy through artmaking.”

— Darcie Bernhardt The Pride Issue

PREVIOUS

Ningiukulu Teevee — Untitled 2010 Graphite, coloured pencil and ink 65 × 49.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

ABOVE

Darcie Bernhardt — tiktauyaq (is carried out to sea on floating ice) 2025 Watercolour 20.3 × 20.3 cm © THE ARTIST

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Walking within Two Worlds

“Isurrik, meaning ‘being in comfort,’ is a piece that reflects the importance of safe spaces—not only as physical rooms but also as places we live in our minds, where we can return in times of doubt or pain for reassurance of our identity.

This piece uses elements of different mediums to recreate the safe space for my internal turmoil of identity: I used recycled materials to recreate familiar memories of safety within a new small space, and I chose the colours to present an otherworldly, ethereal environment where nothing needs to be explained in words. Isurrik is a piece that allows others to witness the peace that comes from returning to oneself.”

— Lisi Etok

ABOVE

Lisi Etok — Isurrik 2025 Photograph and digital media © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

“Kunik (kiss) is a digital moving picture frame that explores the novel idea of northern animals, such as seals and caribou, kissing and rubbing noses. Using an LED panel, a series of brightly coloured scenes unfold across the 32 x 32 pixel screen. Each scene depicts two animals kissing, silhouetted against retro-toned backgrounds of aqua, ultramarine and pink. These scenes are interspersed with romantic vignettes of nature, such as star constellations and the moon setting over water. The LED panel is housed in a shadow box covered in sealskin, highlighting the importance of the seal within Inuit culture. Kunik (kiss) is a piece that utilizes animation, traditional materials and technology in unexpected ways to tell a short narrative full of whimsy and play.”

— Glenn Gear

LEFT

Glenn Gear — Kunik (kiss) (stills) 2025 Digital animation, LED panel and sealskin 26.7 × 26.7 × 6.4 cm © THE ARTIST

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Walking within Two Worlds

my artistic practice, I used to separate my work by the different aspects of my identity, and within the past five years I’ve asked myself, Why am I separating the work of home, of family, with the work of my queer friends and family? Now I’m more free in my thinking and understand that my work takes place in chapters and is all connected by throughlines.

LE: For me I love that the human body isn’t exactly anatomically correct in Inuit sculptures but they’re still people, the way the figures dance and pose is very dynamic. And I love that—especially since, traditionally, there’s no enforced beauty standards— there isn’t one way to look Inuk; it’s very fluid. There’s less enforcement of gender presentation; it’s more skill-based, which I found invaluable to how you can accept queerness within yourself. When I think about queer art, colour is what makes everything feel alive, the contrast from using bright colours that catch the eye. Each Inuit community makes distinctive art, yet as a whole Inuit art is beautifully unconventional, which allows queer art to be especially bold within this free process, with mediums like bone and beads begging to be used creatively.

GG: Within my practice, I tend to like working in what’s more traditional women’s work—the beadwork, the sewing, working with furs and other traditional materials—but I also like working with technology.

And there are queer signals within my work; maybe it’s in the choice of materials I use, the sparkle and shine of some of the beadwork, the colours that I choose—which may be representative of Pride flags. So my works are a celebration of Inuit culture, but a celebration of my queerness is suffused, sublimated or woven into them.

IAQ: Can you speak to why it’s important that both aspects of your identity be considered during Indigenous events and during queer events?

LE: Some of my recent experiences reminded me that queer spaces are not always safe spaces to be Native— that queer spaces and Indigenous spaces aren’t always interchangeable and that there’s still a lot of work to be done to make some of these spaces safe for members of both communities.

Some recent tragedies in the trans community remind me that the framing and labelling of something is important, so that justice can be expressed properly.

That it’s important for my work to be labelled as both “queer” and “Inuk” together, as together they paint a complete picture of my identity.

JI: Yeah, I agree, and you also have me thinking about how my work is going to be read by non-Indigenous and non-queer people. When my work is read by Inuit, queer people and people who show up as engaged readers of my work, they’ll be able to see those subtleties and connect with them. And I’ve come to accept that if they don’t understand the themes in my work, then my work’s not for them, and that’s fine because it can’t be for everyone.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about the microaggressions Indigenous people can experience in queer spaces and how, when I get to be in a space

Inuit Art Quarterly

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where there’s queer Inuit, I just feel like I’m at home.

It feels comforting to talk with queer Indigenous people, there’s common knowledge, there’s our differences, but it feels like I’m seen and I’m welcomed.

And when there are spaces made for those of us who are nonbinary, trans or Two-Spirit within Indigenous gatherings alongside women’s spaces and men’s spaces, it’s very thoughtful and shows us that we belong.

IAQ: Do you follow a cultural protocol or employ queer signalling within your art practice?

GG: I do a lot of multimedia installation work where I’m layering elements such as paint, sound, images, animation and video to shape space, and I always think about different strategies to activate those spaces. And as I’ve mentioned, there are often hidden meanings within my work, which I think points back to queer subtext within media—things that aren’t written in media but we claim them as our own—as well as the sense of humour and playfulness as a means of expression, such as camp and drag culture. So my installation works are often distillations of feelings and a layering of time and different techniques brought together in one place. And that is a place of magic; it’s where things can happen and live. Like Jenny said, maybe not everyone gets everything, especially since we embed different knowledge bases within our work in different and unexpected ways, but that diversity gives our work a great deal of power.

When queer Indigenous artists make work, it makes us visible, and it provides space for us to connect with each other and open dialogue; it provides space for us to hold ourselves accountable but also to build ourselves up across generations.

DB: These queer Inuit, Indigenous or Brown spaces really inform how I want to learn and how I want to show up for people or my practice. As artists we are vessels, we are storytellers, we are memory keepers because we are documenting this art perspective in this little, tiny moment. And it’s really important for me to connect with queer artists from different Indigenous communities because you learn a lot about yourself and become more aware from other perspectives—it’s like this shared bridge where we can exchange ideas and signals. I always try to respect whatever exchange that I’m given, and that is part of the traditions that I grew up with. So again, thinking that I’m that tiny little iceberg that’s drifting, I’m also taking and leaving things as I go.

JI: I think about What makes my art queer? What makes it Inuit art? because I’ve had people outside of those communities tell me, “I don’t understand how your work is queer art or Inuit art.” I’ve come to know that my work will always be queer art and Inuit art because that’s who I am, and it’s my values that I grew up with.

Connecting to what Lisi mentioned earlier: I am who I am and my art, therefore, whatever I make, is queer Inuit art and I don’t have to fall into any stereotypes of what that should look like. And I think that’s the beauty and power in defining self and in defining your own art.

This conversation has been edited for clarity and condensed.

Summer 2025

“Family portrait is a self-portrait containing familial archival pictures that I have printed at varying sizes and adhered to a white-seamless backdrop in my studio. This work considers the medium of photography and what it means to be pictured as well as the desire to create self as a queer Inupiaq.

This picture centres on my continued curiosity: How can I make contemporary family pictures with and of those who don’t exist in this realm, such as my late great-grandparents and late grandparents? How can I recognize those individuals who have shaped who I am in my work, and include my own, unbound understanding of self?”

— Jenny Irene

Jenny Irene — Family portrait 2025 Archival inkjet print 50.8 × 40.6 cm © THE ARTIST

The Pride Issue

39

Walking within Two Worlds

Searching for Inspiration

PATHWAYS TO CRE ATIVIT Y

Kajungiutiksaqsiurniq ISUMAGA JJUNNGURUNNAUTIT

— Translated by Jeela Palluq-Cloutier

— Inuktituuliqtitaujuq uumunga Jeela Palluq-Cloutier

In this special Pride portfolio the IAQ spoke with queer Inuit artists about artwork that has inspired them. What became clear at the outset was that a lot of queer Inuit artists did not have many—or sometimes any—openly queer Inuit artists to look up to when growing up and learning to love and create art. Western colonialism has strongly impacted queer erasure in communities across Inuit Nunaat, and that was made particularly clear during the brainstorming and writing of this issue as a whole. While many did not have strictly queer Inuit artists to gain inspiration from, they have always been able to find beauty in the incredible work of historical and contemporary Inuit artists alike.

Taanna saqqitaujuq Inuit Sanauganginnut Pilirijit uqaqatiqaqattalaurmata isumaqsuqtunik inungnik sanannguaqtinik sanauganginniglu. Ujjirnaqsilauqtuq amisut isumaqsuqtut inuit sanannguaqtit isumaqsuqtunik sanannguaqtinik qaujimajaqalualaunngimmata imminik saqqitisimajunik sanannguarnirmik piliriaqaqpallialiqtillugit. Qallunaat piusingit aksualuk aktuiniqaqsimangmata isumaqsuqtunik pitaqarunniiqtittinasulauqtillugit inuit nunanginni, tamannalu ujjirnaqsittialauqłuni isumaqsaqsiuqatigiiliqtillugit tamatuminga titirausiqarniaqłutik. Amisut isumaqsuqtunik inungnik sanannguaqtinik kajungiutiqarutiqanngikkaluaqtillugit, inungnut sanannguaqtauqattaqsimajunik saqqitauvallialiqtunillu piujualuuninginnik saqqittijunnaqsimajut.

PREVIOUS

KINGUNIANIITTUQ

Elsie Klengenberg — Granny Teaches Grandchildren 1992 Stencil 43.3 × 56 cm

Elsie Klengenberg — Ningiuq irngutaminik ilinniaqtittijuq 1992 Ukitiqsimajut 43.3 × 56 cm

COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ © THE ARTIST

UJJINNGUAQ UINIPAIK SANAUGANIK TAKUJAGAQARVINGANNIT– QAUMAJUQ © TITIRAUJAQTI

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

It’s difficult for me to say exactly what it is that brings me joy and inspiration from Pudlo Pudlat’s (1916–1992) art. It’s definitely the imagery—that’s what art is all about for me—but it’s also that it’s beautiful and colourful, and the colours of his images remind me of the kinds of art I saw during my childhood growing up in Montreal, QC. Pudlat is one of the main artists that my mom would show me, the other being Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, ONu, RCA (1927–2013).

I really like Pangniq Sniffs the Wind (1984)—I love the little snout on the caribou, the way the antlers are shaped to look like they’re flowing. The little feet, the way the lines are done is amazing. And then there are the Pride colours in Caribou in Northern Lights (1987).

I find the representation of animals in Inuit art soothing. It reminds me that, since animals are part of nature and humans are part of nature, that queer people are a part of nature as much as animals are. Inuit imagery and stories that represent transformation, especially as a transgender person, have always intrigued me too.

The way Pudlat uses colour, the way the animals and figures of people are drawn, the mixed elements of traditional stories and the more fantastical parts that came from Pudlat’s own dreams or imaginings—I see myself in all of it. I can’t separate the part of myself that’s queer from the part that is Inuk. — Isaac Partridge

Uqammarigunnanngittunga qanuq Pudlo Pudlat (1916–1992) sanauganginnut kajungiqtausimangmangaarma. Isumaminngaallariksimajuq—sanannguarniq taimaittuungmat uvannut—kisianittauq piuninginnut takuminarninginnullu, taqsanik aturninga iqqaisijjutigivakkakku piruqsarnirilauqtannik Montreal, Kupaingmi. Pudlat sanauganginnik anaanama tukutigajukpalauqpanga, ammalu Kenojuak Ashevak (1927–2013) sanauganginnik.

Piugillariktara Pangniq Nariuqsaqtuq (1984)—tuktuup siggunga piugijara, piugillugillu nagjungikta sanajausimaningik. Isigaralaangit, titiraqtausimaningit piujummarialuit. Upimajut taqsanginnik aturillutik Tuktu Aqsarnirni (1987). Uumajut inungnut sanannguaqtausimatillugit iluarijakka. Iqqaisijjutigijara, uumajut silamut atangmata inuillu silamut atangmata, isumaqsuqtut inuit ataqataungmijut silamut uumajuqtitut. Inuit sanaugangit asinngurnirmik unikkaaqsimajut, piluaqtumik angutinnguqsimallunga, tusarumigijaalugiqattaqsimajakka.

Pudlat taqsanik aturnirijanga, uumajut inuillu titiraujaqtausimaningit, katittisimaninga unikkaaqtuarningaaqtunik isumamininngaaqtuniglu Pudlat isumagijanginninngaaqsimajut—uvannik takuvakpunga tamaitigut. Avittunnannginnakkik isumaqsuttuurnira inuuniralu. — Isaac Partridge

LEFT

Pudlo Pudlat — Caribou in Northern Lights 1987 Printmaker Pootoogook Qiatsuk Lithograph 50.3 × 65.5 cm REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

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SAUMIANIITTUQ

Pudlo Pudlat — Tuktu Aqsarnirni 1987 Titiqtugaqti Pootoogook Qiatsuk Tisijukkut titiraujarniq 50.3 × 65.5 cm SANAJAUKKANNIQTUQ ANGIQTAUSIMALLUTIK KINNGAIT SANAUGALIURVINGANNIT © TITIRAUJAQTI

Searching for Inspiration

I have always loved Napachie Pootoogook’s (1938–2002) work for a myriad of reasons. We share a name, her drawing style and expressive faces have always appealed to me, and she didn’t shy away from difficult topics like images of men controlling women.

Her 1997–1998 piece Trading Women for Supplies, for example, shows an RCMP officer cheerfully handing over a coat to an Inuk man in exchange for an Inuk woman. It was one of the first pieces of hers that I saw, and I was immediately hooked.

I quickly sought out more, and what I discovered was incredible.

A lot of Pootoogook’s pieces are scenes of groups of women participating in sewing, child-rearing and other feminine activities that happened while men were away hunting. These scenes always radiate so much joy. Seeing them, I can’t help but think about my youth in the 1990s when we were socially divided by gender and developing our personalities within our gendered friend groups.

That’s why I love Katajjaqtut (Throat Singing) (2000): while I know Pootoogook was not queer and the image is not intended as a queer story, it always has resonated with me in that way. The two women sneaking off behind the iglu with their footprints in the snow, holding their arms out ready to grasp each other, remind me so strongly of the first time I kissed a girl. We were nervous and sneaky, and it was exhilarating but in a different way than the first time I kissed a boy. We were friends and knew each other in a deeper way than any of the boys we were friends with because, as girls, we were allowed to be ourselves together. That’s the kind of joy and love and safety I see in Pootoogook’s depiction of female relationships and why it has always appealed to the awkward, bisexual teenage girl in me. — Napatsi Folger

Piugiinnaujaqsimajakka Napachie Pootoogook (1938–2002) sanaugarisimajangit ajjigiinngittunik pijjutiqaqłunga. Atiqaqatigillugu, titirausinga kiinanngualiarivaktangit takujumigiinnaujaqsimajakka, titiraujarunnaqłunilu aksururnaqtukkuurutauvaktunik suurlu Angutit Arnanik Aulattijiunnguaqłutik. Sanasimajanga 1997–1998-mi arnat tauqsiijjutigillugit pitaaksanut, uuktuutigilugu, paliisinnguaq quviałłuni japaminik tunisijuq inungmut angummut tauqsiijjutigillugu inungmut arnarmut. Taanna takurngaqtanniiqataulauqtuq, takukkannirumasikautigillunga.

Qinikkannikauqtulauqtunga, nanijakkalu piujumarialuullutik.

Pootoogook titiraujaqsimajanginnit amisut arnagasait katinngallutik miqsunnguaqtut, nutaqqirijut asinginniglu arnait pilirivaktanginnik angutingit angunasugiaqsimaninginni. takullugit quvianainnaujarmata. Takullugit, iqqainiusatuinnaqpunga makkungnirilauqtannik 1990-nginni aviktausimavalauratta kisuunittinnut inunnguqpalliallutalu arnauqatittinnik angutauqatittinnigluunniit piruqsaqatiqaqłuta.

Piugiluarutigivara Katajjaqtut (2000): qaujimagaluaqłunga Pootoogook isumaqsuqtuulaunnginninganik titiraujaqtangillu isumaqsuqtinik unikkaaqsimananngikkaluaqtillugit, taimanna takuqattalaurakkit. Arnaak marruuk igluup ungataanunngaujuuk tumiqaqłutik, tasiuttiaqłutik, iqqaisijjutigilauqtara sivulliqpaarmik arnarmik kuniksilauqsimaninnik. Qusurujukłunuk ijiqłunuglu, alianaittummarialuulauqsimajuq, angutimik kuniksijariulauqsimaninnik ajjiginngiłłuniuk. Piqannariilauqsimajuguk qaujimaqattautittialiqłunuk angutinut qaujimajaunngittunik arnaullunuk kinaunittinnik aturunnalaurannuk. Taimaittunik quviasuktunik nagligusuktunik attarnanngittumiittuniglu takuqattaqtunga Pootoogook arnanik titiraujarninginni ilisarisimajjutigivakługulu makkuktuullunga tamainnuuqtiullunga arnaulaurninnut. — Napatsi Folger

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Summer 2025

Napachie Pootoogook — Katajjaqtut (Throat Singing) 2000 Printmaker Pitseolak Niviaqsi Lithograph 38.3 × 51.1 cm

Napachie Pootoogook — Katajjaqtut 2000 Titiraujaqti Pitseolak Niviaqsi Tisijukkut titiraujarniq 38.3 × 51.1 cm

REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

The Pride Issue

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SANAJAUKKANNIQTUQ ANGIQTAUSIMALLUTIK KINNGAIT SANAUGALIURVINGANNIT © TITIRAUJAQTI

Searching for Inspiration

Glenn Gear — Iluani/Silami (it’s full of stars) 2021 Shipping container, paint on plywood, sound and video projection 2.4 x 3.7 x 6 m

Glenn Gear — Iluani/Silami 2021 Umiarjuakkut usivvik, qijuk minguaqsimajuq, nipinik tarrijaaksaniglu ilalik 2.4 x 3.7 x 6 m

COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO DAVID LIPNOWSKI © THE ARTIST

AJJINNGUAQ UINIPAIK SANAUGANIK TAKUJAGAQARVINGANNIT– QAUMAJURMIT AJJINNGUAQ TAIVIT LIPNUUSKIMIT © TITIRAUJAQTI

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

What first made me feel seen as a queer person were the oral histories that I heard from Elders of queer people that they encountered when they were younger, living a traditional life, prospering and living out on the land. It definitely shifted my perception from the imposed Western view of how Inuit—or I guess Indigenous people more broadly as well—functioned as a society or viewed gender, queerness and sexuality. Traditionally, our approaches to those things were non-linear, very fluid. Hearing oral testimonies as proof of that was incredibly validating: knowing that our culture wasn’t so divided, hearing how concepts of gender and sexuality were imposed and manipulated or incorrectly documented from missionaries that went up north and learning how a lot of functions of society and important positions in community were held by queer individuals. I felt warm in my chest after hearing stories about those individuals.

The first time I encountered queer Inuit art was the INUA (2021) exhibition at the Winnipeg Art Gallery–Qaumajuq. The one that was in a sea can [Glenn Gear’s Iluani/Silami (2021)], going into it felt like you were going into another dimension. It was almost an escape from the world. It felt like I kept absorbing more of the work the more I looked at it.

In the past year, more modern artworks have definitely brought me inspiration, particularly works from Dayle Kubluitok. They do a lot of fan art on their pages on TikTok and Instagram, and they do a lot of queer adaptations as well. Their work is very cutesy, heartfelt but lighthearted. The future seems a little bit brighter when I see that kind of content in my feed. It’s not quite particular artworks, but modern Inuit artists that give me a boost.

— Aghalingiak Ohokannoak

Isumaqsuqtiuninnik takujaujunnarutigiqquujilauqtakka unikkaaqtuanit inutuqarnit unikkaaqtillugit isumaqsuqtinik inungnik takuqattaqsimaninginnik makkuktillugit, iliqqusituqarminik inuusiqaqtillugit, nunami annaumajunnattiaqłutik. Isumataarutigillarilauqtara qallunaaninngaaqsimannginninginnik inuit— nunaqaqqaaqsimajut—inuusiqaqpalarmata qanurlu arnaunirmik, angutaunirmik, isumaqsuqtiunirmik saanngattivangnirmiglu isumagijaqarmangaata. Taissumani, tamakkua tukiliatuinnaqtumik isumagijauvalaunngimmata. Unikkaaqtuanit sulininginnik suqquinattialauqtut: piqqusittinni aviktuqsimalualaunngimmata, arnait angutillu naliangnullu saanngavangningit titiraqtausimattialaunngimmata ukpirnilirijinut inuit nunanngannuaqsimajunut qaujiliqłutik inuuqatigiinut sivuliqtigijaujut isumaqsuqtiujunnarninginnik. Saqqakkut uunaummilauqtunga tamakkuninga unikkaaqtuanik tusaalauqłunga.

Sivulliqpaarmik isumaqsuqtimik inungmit sanannguagarmi takulauqsimavara INUA (2021) saqqijaaqtitautillugu Winnipeg Sanannguagarnut Takujagaqarvingmi–Qaumajurmi. Umiarjuakkut usivvinnguaq [Glenn Gear’s Iluani/Silami (2021)], takullugu suurluli asianuarnaqtuq. Suurlu nunarjuarmik qimailaukakłuni. Suurluli qimirrullugu pivvigivalliatuinnarnaqtuq.

Arraaninit, sanannguaqtauqattalisaaqsimajunit kajungirutiqaqsimallariktunga, piluaqtumik Dayle Kubluitok sanauganginnit.

Titiraujagaqaummariktuq TikTok-kkut amma Instagram-kkut, aaqqigiaqsimajuliuqpakłunilu isumaqsuqtinuungaliqłutik.

Titiraujaqtangit iniqunaqtukuluit, uummammuungajut iluaqłutiglu.

Sivuniksaq piusivaalliqquujivakpuq tamakkuninga takuqattaliraangama. Sanannguagallariunngittuugaluat, kisiani inungnit sanannguaqtinit kajungirutigisimajakka. — Aghalingiak Ohokannoak

The Pride Issue

47

Searching for Inspiration

Wholesaling Inuit art since 1967

Lucassie Echalook

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“This woman caught a fish, a very big fish, and is happy as she will bring it to her family.”

bN xN wvlg xQJxl wvlbZ xoxog wMui uNixoCu 28 ½ x 17 x 7 cm Serpentine

19950 Clark Graham Ave. Baie-D’Urfé, QC H9X 3R8

514-457-9371 www.artnunavik.ca

EXHIBITIONS AT THE

∆ ᔨ - Eyes - Shirley Moorhouse Guest curated by Rose Bouthillier

SPRING/ SUMMER 2025

Credit: Shirley Moorhouse, Dancing to The Moon, 2020, black wool stroud, smoke tanned caribou hide various materials, 43 x 61 inches. Courtesy of the artist.

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts

Inuit Art Quarterly

48

Summer 2025

Inuit artist Leonie Auluk shares her techniques with a visitor during a community stop in Gjøa Haven, Nunavut ©TKristian Bogner

Share Your Vision For nearly 40 years, Adventure Canada has celebrated Inuit art across Inuit Nunangat—through community visits, exhibitions, and by welcoming artists onto our Expedition Team.

If you’re an Inuit artist, we’d love to connect. Join us at sea to share your talents and create new work, or meet us when we visit your community.

We’re committed to building meaningful relationships with Inuit artists.

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CURATORIAL NOTES

Worlds on Paper: Drawings from Kinngait McMichael Canadian Art Collection CURATED BY EMILY LAURENT HENDERSON MARCH 8–AUGUST 24, 2025 KLEINBURG, ON

From a massive digitization project of ninety thousand works on paper from the Kinngait Drawings Archive comes Worlds on Paper: Drawings from Kinngait. The works, held on long-term loan from the West Baffin Eskimo Co-operative by the McMichael Canadian Art Collection, have been curated by Emily Laurent Henderson, Associate Curator, Indigenous Arts and Culture at the McMichael.

The exhibition was conceived as a way to commemorate and celebrate the collection, which spans from 1959–1990, depicting the many facets of the human experience—from domestic life to the changing landscape and introduction of newcomers. The concurrent exhibition Dreaming Forward: Contemporary Drawings from Kinngait features work from the 1990s to present day.

Here, Henderson gives us some insight into the process and vision for putting together the show.

Inuit Art Quarterly

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ABOVE

Installation views of Worlds on Paper: Drawings from Kinngait, 2025 ALL COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Peter Pitseolak — Untitled 1960–66 Graphite 45.7 × 60.8 cm ALL REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL COLLECTION WEST BAFFIN ESKIMO CO-OPERATIVE LTD. © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (CENTRE)

Kingmeata Etidlooie — Untitled 1985–86 Coloured pencil and felt pen 51.6 × 65.3 cm © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Kananginak Pootoogook — Untitled 1991–92 Coloured pencil, felt pen and graphite 66.4 × 50 cm © THE ARTIST

Summer 2025

CURATORIAL NOTES

What is the general focus of the exhibition?

The idea that really drew me first and foremost was this human history that I was seeing through the archives. I’m interested in first-person accounts and started reading the drawings in this archive as a social document. This was a time when life was really changing in the community. People’s whole worlds as they knew them were being translated out in graphite, coloured pencil and ink. I’m exploring this idea in a few different ways, like through portraiture and depictions of daily life. Can you describe the exhibition space? We’ve divided the narrative of the exhibition into sections.

The first gallery is devoted to graphite works that were being produced in the earliest years of the studio. Then you move into the second gallery, which centres around domestic space and experiences, and that includes encounters with newcomers coming from the South, parenting, gathering, music. All these things have to do with interpersonal relationships and stories.

And then we get into the third gallery, which deals with relationships of landscape and environment. This includes the land as it has been and always will be, as well as the

introduction of a new built environment, such as prefabricated housing. And then there is a little moment for Inuit Futurism and dreaming of the structures of the future at the end. What or who were your inspirations for this exhibition? I’m really inspired by Taqralik Partridge. I admire her work and exhibition-making. She’s got an eye for what makes the “everyday” so special. Another inspiration is the visible storage in the Museum of Anthropology in Vancouver, BC, where I had my first museum job. Much of the museum’s collection is available for public viewing at all times, and I am always striving for that same spirit of transparency and access in my work. What was your main challenge in putting together this exhibition?

Narrowing it down. I had a very naive dream that I was going to be able to show one work by every artist in the archive, and very quickly that became unrealistic. There are so many works that just didn’t make it into the show, unfortunately. But the thing about works on paper is that they are very light sensitive, and the show will be up for about six months. Since we do have touring aspirations, I think there’s opportunity for some of those works to get swapped out for

Peter Pitseolak Untitled (1960–66) Peter Pitseolak (1902–1973) had this whole series of bobbleheads that struck me as unusual for this time frame. I always wondered, because of his photography practice, if these works were based on photos. He has a series of these great bobblehead women that will be in the show. They all have consistent tunniit patterns, facial tattoos, so I always wonder if it’s based on a single person. So much of this archive encourages us to ask questions like that. This series was so fun and felt contemporary. Also, this was a time when tunniit were being discouraged, if not outright banned, so keeping them alive through visual art was important.

The Pride Issue

others that didn’t make the first cut. Can you talk a bit about the exhibition catalogue Worlds on Paper (2025)? I was inspired in part by my journey writing for Early Days: Indigenous Art from the McMichael (2023), which is another McMichael catalogue.

Contributors had agency to choose works and then produce a narrative in a way they thought fit the work they chose, and I loved that. I wanted to stick with that practice of multivocality for Worlds on Paper. There are infinite ways to write about this archive, infinite ways to interpret it. This was one way that I was fortunate to be able to bring in other perspectives. The majority of the contributors in the book are Inuit, which was important to me. Summarize the show in three words. Resiliency, memory, continuity. Was there a specific mood you aimed to evoke throughout the show?

Joyous, exuberant energy throughout the show, with a little bit of playfulness and humour here and there. It was important to me to make sure that the show retains a sense of joy and continuity of culture throughout, even though it confronts the topic of colonization.

Kananginak Pootoogook, RCA Untitled (1991–92)

Kingmeata Etidlooie Untitled (1985–86) Kingmeata Etidlooie (1915–1989) was doing all these fabulous drawings that dealt with infrastructure, from houses in town, to traditional seasonal houses, to buildings from her own imagination in ways that were colourful and bold. I love this work because it shows this man, and to me it feels like he is holding things in balance. I think this is such a strong theme throughout the show, the duality between what changes and what remains consistent across the generations represented in the archives and in recent times.

51

I think a lot about the clergy and the influence of Christianity, as clergy were among the earliest newcomers in the Arctic and the church was the root of so much spiritual disruption and change. I kept coming across artists contending with the way Christianity had shaped their world as a method of colonization, even though the vast majority of works dealing with Christian themes have largely remained in the dark for decades. Encountering as much art that dealt with religious themes as I did was a revelation for me.

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PROFILE

Mikak Semigak-Justason

by Jasmine Freeman

Learning to skateboard in 2019 had a pivotal influence on Mikak Semigak-Justason, a Two-Spirit multimedia artist currently living in Fredericton, NB, who has ties to Nain, Nunatsiavut, NL. Moving their body in challenging and unfamiliar ways broke down notions of self-imposed limitations physically and inspired them to explore their artistry—as well as their identity—with the same openness. As Semigak-Justason’s expression of self sharpens, the line between artist and art becomes fluid, and their practice is no longer just a reflection of the self; it becomes the self, a living dialogue between the two.

That dialogue is especially evident in their black-ink linocut print, Culture Keeper (2024), where Semigak-Justason

Inuit Art Quarterly

depicts a figure facing away from the viewer, framed by kakiniit-style markings.

Simple yet effective accents lure the viewer’s eye to the details of the figure: Xs denote woven strands of hair in two thick braids; horizontal lines form a curve in the lumbar spine; white dots depict the sinew stitching of the sealskin thong.

“It’s my bum,” Semigak-Justason says.1 “Portraying myself allowed me to ease into my own body.”

Their linocut printmaking techniques also developed in tandem with the radical acceptance of their physical body: “Previous carvings were a lot more rough and rigid.

With this year’s print, I feel like it’s rounded out more. It’s less choppy and more visually appealing.” This can also be seen 52

in Semigak-Justason’s Myth and Methodology (2024) print, which was showcased in Amisut at La Guilde in Montreal, QC, last year alongside their crocheted Anticolonial Action Balaclava (2024). In the print, crisp black lines defining numerous traditional Inuit icons are arranged in a repeating series, including qajait, uluit, Arctic char and ilgaak, or snow goggles. The repetition highlights how integral the various elements are for subsistence living in the Arctic, while the spiralling and shifting arrangement speaks to the ways Inuit communities have continuously adapted while still holding onto traditional knowledge. The merging of past elements and present realities within the work creates a dynamic and evolving narrative.

Summer 2025

PROFILE

OPPOSITE (LEFT)

Mikak Semigak-Justason — Culture Keeper 2024 Archival ink 15.2 × 10.2 cm ALL © THE ARTIST

OPPOSITE (RIGHT)

Anticolonial Action Balaclava 2024 Crochet, canvas, screen print, embroidery thread, jump rings and safety pins 35.6 × 20.3 cm COURTESY LA GUILDE

LEFT (TOP)

Childhood Home 2023 Magazine paper and glue 14.8 × 21 cm LEFT (BOTTOM LEFT)

Mikak Semigak-Justason working on the Myth and Methodology print run, Oromocto, NB, 2024 PHOTO KEVIN SIBLEY

LEFT (BOTTOM RIGHT)

Myth and Methodology 2024 Ink 43.2 × 28 cm COURTESY LA GUILDE

NOTES 1

Sating my curiosity about the blending of traditional art forms with contemporary methods, Semigak-Justason told me it wasn’t about fixed preservation but arriving at the “intersection of honouring the past and accepting modern influences that represent who I am in this present moment.” For Myth and Methodology, instead of using linoleum or wood blocks, they cut eraser stamps, pressing each image individually—a tribute to when they would carve potatoes and school supplies as a kid.

The exploration of past memories continues in their collage Childhood Home (2023). Shredded magazine pages are layered to construct their old house in Quispamsis, NB, as well as to construct The Pride Issue

the found poem: “mentally still—even the architecture.” The contrast between the poem and the clippings of eyes had me wondering if this piece reflected a process of coming to terms with their time spent there. Semigak-Justason told me the eyes represented their process of settling a scarcity mindset around money and went on to describe the house as once holding a lot of trauma for them.

Reconstructing it allowed them to “let the past be the past,” and that the home now “just exists on paper.” I am touched by the way this work reimagines the past and reclaims a space that once held pain. As a diasporic Inuk myself, I wondered how that experience influenced Semigak-Justason not only in their artistic practice but their 53

All quotes Mikak Semigak-Justason, interview with Jasmine Freeman, March 2025.

perceptions of self and identity. “It’s catapulted me to radically accept myself; I already exist, so I will continue to exist,” they told me.

— Jasmine Freeman is an Inuk-Filipina writer, beader and student currently living in Edmonton, AB, with roots in Cape Hope Islands, NU. Through her practice and beading business, Nunaaluk, she explores themes of identity, displacement and cultural reclamation. In 2022 Freeman’s beadwork was featured in the IAQ article “Granny Palettes: An Inuit Sense of Colour.”

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

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The Pride Issue

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LAST LOOK

Simik Komaksiutiksak Anxiety The interplay between the playful yet critical queer lens, the Inuit experience and a wide variety of artistic mediums have created some of the most interesting and compelling works of art out there.

The story Anxiety tells through movement is about a person who refuses to be boxed into being just Inuk or just queer.

Komaksiutiksak uses the bag of props and costumes to subvert the viewer’s expectations of gender as the dancers change outfits and attitudes. Spontaneous movements reflect traumas stored by the body in muscle memory, but trauma is not the focus. Instead, the message behind the performance is about the healing power of coming together, of community and collaboration. The dancers hug and embrace each other on the stage, demonstrating their care for one another. Their message highlights the importance of queer Inuit art—by being proud, creative and visible we can find each other in order to come together and heal.

Queer Inuit artists, like the ones featured in this issue, are beckoning lights in the darkness for many 2SLGBTQQIA+ Inuit, showing them they are not alone and inviting them to shine together. A canon of queer Inuit art is forming and and illuminating a path for the generations that come next, so that they do not have to feel alone and unseen, so that they know they come from a rich tradition of community and expression.

A kaleidoscopic rainbow of neon lights bathes the dancers and the stage. A bag of props containing scarves, a hairbrush, silver platform heels, an orange Every Child Matters T-shirt, a traffic pylon and more is repeatedly dumped out, the items collected and used as imaginative props. This is the dance performance Anxiety (2025), the directorial debut of Simik Komaksiutiksak, which toured across Quebec between January and February 2025.

Komaksiutiksak is a Two-Spirit Inuk dancer, choreographer and circus artist from Kangiqliniq (Rankin Inlet), NU. Joining them onstage is a troupe of Indigenous and racialized dance artists (Cheyenne LeGrande, Courtney Taticek, Chrystal Tam and Katie Couchie) with lighting design by Aurora Torok. Together, through collaborative and improvisational dance, Komaksiutiksak and company explore the modern anxieties of being a racialized queer person.

The very root of pride is being proud of who you are and celebrating and uplifting each other for all to see. For a long time because of shame and stigma, queer people were not allowed to publicly exist. Generations of queer youth grew up thinking they were alone because they did not see anyone like themselves in most aspects of public life.

For queer Inuit, the arts are a place to express and examine both their queerness and Inukness, and how they spring from the same source. Queer Inuit artists use their talents to show both their communities that not only do they exist, but as rights activists Queer Nation famously stated, “get used to it.”

OSSIE MICHELIN

Guest Editor

Simik Komaksiutiksak — Anxiety 2025 Dance performance 45 min COURTESY MONTRÉAL, ARTS INTERCULTURELS PHOTO AURORA TOROK © THE ARTIST

Inuit Art Quarterly

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Summer 2025

Kablusiak, Party City (where you belong), 2022.

Collection of the artist. Photo courtesy of Norberg Hall.

Phil Gray

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

Image Credit: Phil Gray (Ts’msyen), Octopus Shaman, Red cedar, cedar rope, paint, 12½” x 12” x 6”.

Courtesy of Steinbrueck Native Gallery

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