Inuktut

Atiga Tom Mcleod, Umarramuitunga, Inuvialuk Aklavikmiutunga Inuvialuit Settlement regionmi.

Laughingwell Shingatuk nutaraat Bar-1mi, Jonas Meyook nutaraat Herschel Islandmi, Donald Gordon nutaraat Bar-2mi; tamaita aulayuaq tingmiyualukmun. Inuit, Western Arcticmi, itqaqtuat nutarakmun, tutqiktugaa tingmiyualuk aulaqtuat nangititchiyuat ilisakvikmun. Taamna tingmiyualuk nutaaq sivulliqmi. Mikiyuqmiq Inuvialuit tallimat manik $ niuvvaavikmi asiin inuuniarvik Aklavik tingmiyuaq sivikittuqmiq. Quliat taimaqtuat tadjvani, uqaqnaitut “ilisakvikmi” apiqsilaitut. Quliaqtuaq David Ruben Piqtoukun Tingmiyualuk, maqaigaa nutaraat Canadianmun governmentmi. Iglumun, taamna Iglu; iluani tingmaikpun tinginaiktuat.

Una savaatit itqaqsautit allauyuaq Angatkuqmun, atugaa taamna atiq allauyuaq niryunmiq tingmiyuaqlu. Asiin, itqaqsautit quliaq tapqua Ukpik-Arnaq.

Ingillaani Inuit angunaiqtut inuusim. Angulu arnaqlu uumayuat nuliaviik. Taamna angun angunaiqtut asiin arnaq Angatkuq. Asiin angun angunaiqtuat; arnaq kappiuqiyuaq uqqituaq atiq allauyuaq atugaa “pimagaalu” ilaksaqtuaq taamna ukpik. Taamna ukpik aulayuaq ui anguniaqtuaq asiin tumi iimayuk yaraiqsiqtuaq igliqmi. Asiin aulayuaq anguniaqti tukuyaa tuktu taamna akłak takuyaaluu, aglaan naluyuuq. Arnaq asulu ukpik takuyaa akłak asiin atugaa atiq allauyuaq akłak, nakłaaqtuaq uqaqtuaq uimun akłat nunami. Sukayuqtuaq pilaktuaq tuktu usiagaa qamotikmun asiin nuliaq kasuqtuat akłak taimaqtuqlu. Angun uutaqinaituq akłak kasuqtuat ilisimayuuq, sukayuq aulayuaq. Sukayuqtuaq nuliaqmun iglumi timi qitchugaalu kiiyaalu, ikimun tuquyuaq.

Una quliaq allauyuat arnaqmun niryunmun. David Ruben Piqtoukun Tingmiyualuk allauyuat. Aglaan angunmun isumamun asiin Inuit allauyuat.

English

Hello my name is Tom Mcleod I’m Umarramuit, Inuvialuk from Aklavik in the Inuvialuit Settlement region.

Laughingwell Shingatuk’s kids from Bar-1, Jonas Meyook’s kids from Herschel Island, Donald Gordon’s Kids from Bar-2; they were all picked up with the same Twin Otter airplane. People in the Western Arctic will reminisce about their youth, even about the order that they were picked up in the plane to be taken to residential school. As a plane ride was more of a novelty back then. Some Inuvialuit would even spend $5 at the trading post that would become Aklavik to fly for just a few minutes. But the stories stop there, no one will talk about what happened “at school” and no one will ever ask. This is the story depicted here by David Ruben Piqtoukun’s Airplane, the abduction of children by the Canadian government. From their homes, the Igloo; onto the airplane and away.

This artwork reminded me of a transformation like that of an Angatkuq, who could use their other names to transform into an animal and fly. Specifically, it reminded me of the story of Owl Woman.

A long time ago when Inuit hunted for their livings. A man and woman lived together as husband and wife. The man was a hunter and the woman was an Angatkuq. And when the man would go out hunting; the woman fearing for his safety would use another name she had “acquired” to become an owl. As the owl she would follow her husband on his hunting trips while her body stayed behind resting in her bed. On one such trip The Hunter had harvested a caribou which attracted a grizzly bear, unbeknownst to him. The Woman as an owl spotted the bear and used another of her names to become a bear, giving off a mighty roar letting her husband know that there were bears in the area. He quickened his pace butchering the caribou and loading it onto his sled while his wife fought the bear to a standstill. The man did not wait to watch the bears fight as he knew what was happening, so he left as quickly as possible. He rushed back to his wife at home to find her covered in scratches and bite marks, dying of her wounds.

This story is about the transformation of a woman to different animals. David Ruben Piqtoukun’s Airplane also depicts a form of transformation. But in this case not from man to spirit but from Inuit to something else.

Inuktut

ᐊᑎᕋ ᓯᑯ ᐋᓗᓘ. ᐊᑭᐊ ᒪᒥᓴᕋᓱᐊᕐᓂ ᐊᔅᓱᕈᕈᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᑎᑭᓐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖅ ᐋᖅᑭᔅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓯᐊᑦᓇᒦᖔᖅᑐᓂ ᐃᒪᐅᑉ ᐃᖅᑲᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᑐᓂ ᓇᑉᐸᖓ ᓇᑦᑎᖅ. ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕐᓂᖓ ᐊᔅᓱᕈᖅᑐᓂ ᓴᖅᑭᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᖓᓄ ᐱᑕᖃᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᖔᖓᓂ ᐃᐊᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᒥᑭᔫᑎᓂᑦ. ᐅᕙᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓᓂᑦ, ᐊᑦᑎᓪᓕᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᐊᐅᒻᒧᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓇᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓕᕋᓇᖅᓵᕆᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᒌᓄᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ, ᓴᖅᑭᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᖓ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑭᖑᒧᖔᖅ. ᑐᓴᐅᒪᔾᔪᑎᓕᕆᓂᖅ ᓇᑦᑏᑦ ᕿᓯᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᒪᑭᓴᕐᓗᒍ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᖏᓐᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᕿᓄᖓᓂᖅ ᐅᑯᓂᓄᖓ ᐸᓂᒃ, ᐊᑖᑕᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᖏᕋᖅ. 2,700 ᑎᑎᖅᑲᐃᑦ ᑐᓂᒐᓱᐊᖅᑕᒃᑲ ᐊᑭᖔᖓᓃᖔᖅᑐᑦ ᓂᕆᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐅᕙᖓᑎᑐᑦ ᑕᒫᓂᑐᐃᓐᓈᖅᑑᔮᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓚᒌᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐊᖏᕋᒥ. ᖁᔭᓐᓇᒦᒃ.

English

My name is Siku Allooloo. Akia is my attempt to heal what’s been suffered through colonialism as an arnaq. The artwork is set in Sedna’s descent to the bottom of the sea as she transforms into a half-seal goddess. Her transformation of suffering into the creation of bounty that provides from the other side is embedded throughout the piece. In my poem, as we descend into blood memory and an intimate family story, the creation story is activated in reverse. Communication through sealskin to heal disconnection and despair between a panik, her ataata, and home. The 2700 letters are my offering from the other side to feed the spirit of Inuit, especially others like me who find themselves displaced from family and homeland. Qujannamiik  

Read Akia here: https://www.wag.ca/isl/uploads/2021/05/Akia-layout.pdf

The artist carved this poem out of sealskin as a layer of protection to hold the intimacy of the story.  The fur obfuscates the clarity of the words and provides warmth within. The artwork was originally intended to be shown without a transcript.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

Sialuk’s paintings have a special feeling of love and heart emitting from them. The bright colours and bold patterns really make this work stand out. but they are also paired with the soft warmth of the background of wood the work is made on. Atii focuses on the practise of naming. Names, which are more specifically spirit names in this context, connect those who have them to a legacy of family relation. When one has a name sake, they are placed in relationship immediately having life long connections to those around you. Being connected through names also means having duties to one another, like making sure that each other are safe and healthy, and giving when it’s needed. In this way Sialuk explaines to me “Also I see that as way to honor the title Inuit Nunangat Ungammuaktuk Atautikkut as we literally bring the old ways with us into the future and it is a significant identity marker for Inuit in Greenland.”

Inuktut

ᑯᔪᓚ ᒧᐊᕗᑦᖑᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐃᓅᔪᖅ ᑰᔾᔪᐊᕋᐱᖕᒥᐅᑕᖅ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ.

ᐃᓅᓗᓂ ᐃᓱᕆᐊᒃᓴᖃᙱᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᕆᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᓯᓚᒥ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᓂᒃ, ᐱᐅᒋᔭᕋ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᖅ! ᐱᙳᐊᖅᑐᑎᑐᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᖅᑐᓕᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑲᓚᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ. ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᑎᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖓᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ. ᒪᔪᕆᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖏᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ; ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᑦᓯᐊᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᐱᓪᓗᐊᕕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᔪᒥᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᒐᔪᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᒃ − ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᓯᙳᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕐᔪᑏᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ − ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓕᒃ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᓂᖅ ᑕᒪᑉᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓚᐅᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᐃᒡᓗᒥᐅᖃᑎᒌᒃᑐᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓂᕐᓃᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᕈᓗᒥᑦ ᕌᔅᒥᐅᓴᓐᒧᑦ − “ᐱᔪᒪᐃᓐᓇᕋᔪᒃᑐᑎᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓂᕐᓃᑦ ᑐᑭᖃᖁᑉᓗᒋᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᙱᑕᕗᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ. ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᙱᓪᓗᒍ.”

English

I’m Kajola Morewood and my birth mother is Inuit from Kuujjuarapik in Nunavik.

As a person who spends their spare time going out in search of birds, I love this piece! There is a playfulness about it with the bright colours and the expressions of the figures. You can even get a sense of the regional clothing style even though it has been quite simplified. Marjorie’s work has been described as whimsical; blurring the lines between the real and the imagined. Inuit stories often feature transformation – how humans could transform into animals and animals into humans – referring to a time when we were all the same, living together. This depiction of birds and spirits reminds me of the quote by Orulo to Rasmussen – “you always want these supernatural things to make sense but we do not bother about that. We are content not to understand.”

Inuktut

“ᑲᕆᔅᑎᓐ ᕿᓪᓇᓯᖅ ᓗᔅᓯᕈᖑᕗᖓ, ᓴᓪᓗᐃᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᕗᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑦᑐᓯᐅᑎᓯᒪᕗᖓ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒥ ᓄᓇᓕᕋᓛᖑᓂᖅᓴᓄᑦ ᑰᔾᔪᐊᕌᐱᒃᒧᑦ”

ᑕᐅᒍᓐᓇᕋᑦᑕ ᓴᓇᙳᐋᒐᖅᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᐸᓪᓕᐋᓱᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᕈᒃᐸᓪᓕᐋᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐅᕙᓂ, ᓱᕋᒃᓯᒪᓂᖅ ᐊᕐᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᒻᒪᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᒋᐊᑐᒐᑎᒍ ᒥᖅᓱᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐊᒪᐅᑎᓕᐋᖓᓂ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᐊᑎᒋᓕᐋᖓᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒋᒍᑎᒋᒐᓱᐊᕐᓗᒍ “ᐃᓅᓂᖓᓂᒃ”. ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒐᒥ ᐱᖃᕆᐋᑐᖏᓐᓂᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᑭᓱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖃᕐᓂᒻᒥᓄᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓂᕐᒥᓂᒃ.

ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐋᒐᖅ ᐃᓕᓴᕆᒍᓐᓇᕋᒃᑯ ᐅᕙᖓ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᐃᐱᒋᔭᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓱᒪᒍᑎᒋᓕᕋᒃᑯᑦ ᐅᕙᖓ ᐃᓗᐋᓂ ᑐᑭᓯᐋᓂᕆᔭᓐᓂ ᑎᒥᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᕙᖓᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᓐᓇᐅᓂᓐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓗᐊᙳᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᓂᓐᓂᒃ. ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒧᐋᕋᖓᒪ, ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᕐᓂᖃᓕᓱᖑᒐᒪ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᒍᓐᓇᓐᓂᕐᓂ ᐱᖓᓐᓇᒥᐅᑕᐅᓇᖓ ᐱᓕᕆᒍᑕᐅᖏᓐᓇᖃᑦᑕᓱᑐᑦ ᓂᕆᐅᒍᑎᒋᓇᒍᑦ ᐱᐅᓂᐊᓗᒻᒥᒃ. ᓱᖁᑕᐅᖏᒪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕋᓗᐋᕈᒪ, ᖁᐃᑦᑎᑲᓪᓚᓐᓂᕋᓗᐋᕈᒪ, ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᐅᕐᓂᕋᓗᐊᕈᒪ ᐱᐅᓴᐅᑎᓕᕐᓂᐊᖏᓪᓗᖓ. ᐃᒫᖓᕐᓕ, ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᔭᓐᓂ ᒪᑯᐊᖑᒪᑕ ᐊᒃᑐᐋᖃᑎᒌᓐᓂᒃᑲ ᐃᓚᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᓐᓂᒥᐅᑕᓐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᓂᐅᑐᐊᕋᒪ ᑎᒻᒥᓲᒥᒃ ᑎᐅᑎᐊ Tio’tià:ke (ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ, ᑕᐅᕙᓂ), ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᓕᑦᑕᐅᑎᒋᓱᖑᔪᖓ ᐊᓯᐅᔪᔮᕐᓗᖓ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᒍᓐᓃᖅᑐᖓ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ. ᑐᕌᖓᒍᓐᓃᒻᒪᓪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᓂᕆᕙᒃᑕᓐᓄᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐱᐅᓂᖃᓐᓂᒻᒨᖓᓗᐊᙳᐋᕐᒪᑦ – ᑐᕌᖓᖁᔨᓕᓪᓗᖓ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᓄᖓᓪᓗᐊᖅ ᓂᕆᐅᒋᔭᐅᒍᑎᓄᑦ.

ᐃᓗᒃᑯᑦ ᓇᒧᖓᖅᐸᓪᓕᐋᓂᕋ ᐃᓚᖃᖃᓯᐅᔾᔨᒪᑦ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᒃᑲᓐᓂᓕᓐᓂᒻᒧᑦ ᐃᓚᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᒻᒧᑦ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ, ᑕᒫᓂᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᕙᓪᓕᐋᓕᓚᐅᕋᒪ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᓱᓕᔪᕿᑦᑎᐋᕐᓗᖓ, ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐋᖅᐸᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐅᕙᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᓐᓇᕈᕋᑖᑦᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᓇᒃᓴᓚᐅᕋᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖃᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᒍᑎᓂᒃ – ᓄᐊᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓐᓂᕋᒪ ᐊᓯᓱᐋᓗᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒥᐋᖅᑎᑕᒐᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᒍᑎᒋᒍᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒍᑎᒋᒍᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓕᖁᓯᖃᖃᑕᐅᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᑐᒧᖓᓗ ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᐋᓘᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ, ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᓂᒍᓐᓇᖅᓯᒐᒪ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐋᒧᑦ ᓂᕈᐋᕐᓗᖓ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᐋᖅᑕᓂᒃ ᐱᒐᓚᖏᓪᓗᓂ ᐱᐅᔪᐋᓗᒻᒥᒃ ᐊᖏᔪᖅᑕᖅᓯᒪᓗᖓ, ᑭᒻᒥᑯᑖᖃᓪᓗᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐋᖑᓪᓚᕆᖏᒃᑲᓗᐋᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖃᓂᕐᒨᖓᔪᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᒍᑎᒋᒐᓱᐋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᐋᓘᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓐᓂᓐᓄᑦ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇᐅᐸᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒐᒪ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑎᒥᒐ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᐅᓂᖓᓂ ᑕᒪᓂ ᑎᐅᑎᐊ Tio’tià:ke, ᐋᖅᑭᒍᑎᓯᒪᓕᕋᒪ ᐱᓇᓱᐋᕈᓐᓃᓪᓗᖓ ᓯᓚᑎᑯᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᑕᐅᒍᑎᒥᒃ. ᐃᓅᒐᒪ ᖃᓅᒐᓗᐊᖅᐸᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᓇᒦᒃᑲᓗᐋᕈᒪ ᑕᕝᕙᐅᓗᖓ.

English

“I’m Christine Qillasiq Lussier, my ties are to Salluit, and I am affiliated to the Northern Village of Kuujjuaraapik”

We can see through carvings that Inuit are responsive to change. Here, the bust is simply a woman, and we do not need to see her sewing, in an amautik or an atigik to identify her as “Inuk”. She knows that she does not need any accessories nor any cultural markers to signify that she is an Inuk.   

This carving resonates with my own sense of self. It makes me think of my inner journey of understanding my own body and my own sense of self as a woman, and specifically as an Inuk woman. When I go up north, I have a certain freedom in presenting myself without western conventional expectations of beauty. It doesn’t matter what I wear, if I put on some weight, or if I decide not to put on makeup. Rather, my experience is about the connections I have with family and community members, and the land. As soon as I get off the plane in Tio’tià:ke (Montreal, that is), I feel like I immediately lose that connection with the land. The focus is no longer on these connections, but on mere aesthetics- where my body is ascribed certain expectations.

My inner journey also included reconnecting with my family and community in Nunavik, where I began to experience my sense of identity as an Inuk woman in a confident way, regardless of how I present myself. In my early adulthood I bought many Inuit cultural markers- I accumulated a lot of Inuit clothing, accessories, and prints to learn to experience my culture in a way that felt empowering. But, I can now go out into the world choosing to wear simply a fabulous dress, high heels, and not necessarily anything cultural in order to feel empowered as an Inuk. Although I am aware of how my body is perceived in Tio’tià:ke, I have adjusted to not seeking external validation. I am an Inuk regardless of how or where I happen to exist.

Inuktut

Aik, Atiga Glenn Gear ammalu una inigijaga, Iluani/Silami (tatajuk ullugianut).

Pisimavunga akulligejunut Inuit sivullivininginnit. Atâtaga Inuk Atlatok kangitlunganit Nunatsiavummi, (Taggami Labrador), ammalu anânaga Newfalâmiutak pisimatluni Irish-imit ammalu Kallunânit piusituKammit. Pigutsatausimavunga Corner Brook Newfalâmi ammalu iniKavunga Mânnaluatsiak Montreal-imi.

Iluani/Silami allasânguttitaugami imailingajuk Inside/Outside Kallunâtitut ammalu taijaujumut, “Ullugianik tatajuk” isumagillugu Kubrick-iup taggajânga, “2001: A Space Odyssey”.

Tânna ininga âkKisuttausimajuk iluani 20-foot takinilimmik umiakkut atuttauKattajumut itlivitsuamik upvalu imammiutak itlivialuk. Taikkua imammiutait itlivialuit Kaujimajautsiatut unuttumaginnik Inuit nunagijanginni atuttauKattamata atjatugiamut piKutinik ammalu sunatuinnanik pisimajunit siKinganimmit. Iluani, angijualuk Kinnitak ammalu KaKuttak allanguattausimajuk pingasunut Kammanut, sakKititsijumik maggonik atjiKangitunik takutsaujunik. Omajuit ammalu omajut-inunnik allanguattaumajut ilijaumajut satjugiangani tikijunut KakKasuanut tamâget atatlutik iluani KikKangani angijualuk ijik iluani taggajâk pisimajuk. 

Itigavit, saumiani takugatsaKavuk ilinganiKajumut Inuit uKausituKanga Nunatsiavummit uKajumik Kanuk atsanet sakKiluasiasimammangâmmik. Atautsik unikkausik uKajuk sangijualumik inutuKak upvalu angakKuk tikisimajumut Kaummatluni nunamosimajuk. Sangijumik naulamminik nunatsuamottisijuk ammalu taimâk pigami, nalautsijuk ujagamik Killânikittutalik ammalu aniajaniatlutik atsanet iluanettunik, sakkutaujunut unnusami silamut atsaniunialittunut. Talippiani, takugatsaKavuk isumajâgutaujumik Inuit ininganik sivunittinenguajumut attutaumajumut Sonâbendimi ullâgatsukut cartooninguanik sollu taikkuninga ‘The Jetsons’. PitaKagivuk Kimmimik pottakajumik ammalu ânnigekkutimmik niaKunganik aullakallagasuattumut, kajusijumut angijumut ilannâga Jesse Tungilik ammalu Kisijammut Silamut Anugânga” takusauKataummijuk.

Tamakkua takutsaujuk atunik ammalu ukkuangani ilagiatsijuk akulligiallanik sanajaumajumut, saumiani pitaKatluni Inuit pitanginnik, Tuttuk, the caribou, (Kaujimajaummijuk Ingusialuk), ammalu talippiani pitaKatluni Ullaktut, The Runners (Kaujimajaummijuk pingasut Kaumatsiatut ullugiat iluani Orion-iup tatsiangani).

Tânna aumaluak takutsak iluani ijiup âkKitausimajuk nipanganut ingiulet apujunut Kilautammut, apvitatluni nipiliuttausimajut tânna sanasimajaga. Tânna takutsait suliangujuk âkKisuttausimajut malitsiagiamut Kilautammik, asianokatajonnut akunga piusilluasianganik ammalu tamânelluasiajumut sanasimajakkanik, taggajâliusimajakkanik, ammalu takutitsijuk âkKisuttausimajunik Kilautait, asiangutitsijumik pitagijanginnik ammalu tamânelluasiajunik sanasimajakkanik, taggajâliusimajakkanik, nipiliusimajakkanik inigganiagama Labradorimut fifteenait jâret Kângisimajunik. 

Tamakkua ullugiat iniuvuk isumakkut Kaujimajaungituk Kaummalâjut, nipaKainnatumik, ammalu atjiKangitunik takutsait. Iluani/Silami iniuvuk asiKangitumik iniuvuk iniKattitaujumillu sivunganiusimajumik, ammalu sivunittinik; itlivialuk tigumiajumik nalligijakkanik Labradorimik atajutigut unikkausivininnik, nunatsuamut, imappimut, ammalu ullugianut. 

English

Iluani/Silami (it’s full of stars) 

Hi, my name is Glenn Gear and this is my installation, Iluani/Silami (it’s full of stars).

I come from mixed Inuit ancestry. My father is Inuk from Adlatok Bay, Nunatsiavut, (Northern Labrador), and my mother is a Newfoundland settler with Irish and English heritage. I grew up in Corner Brook Newfoundland and I currently live in Montreal.

Iluani/Silami translates as “Inside/Outside” in Inuktitut and the subtitle, “it’s full of stars” is a reference to Kubrick’s film, “2001: A Space Odyssey”.

The installation is set inside a 20-foot long shipping container or sea can. These sea cans are familiar in many Inuit communities as they are used to ship goods and supplies from the south. Inside, a large black and white mural wraps around the three walls, creating two distinct scenes. Animals and animal-human hybrids are set against a coastline that stretches into the mountains with both sides connected in the middle by a large stylized eye into which a video is projected.

As you enter, on the left there is a scene depicting an Inuit origin myth from Nunatsiavut of how the northern lights came to be. One such story tells of a powerful elder or shaman who came across a shimmering in the ground. He thrust his spear into the earth and when he did, he struck the rock labradorite and freed the aksaniq within, releasing them into the night sky to become the northern lights. On the right, there is a scene depicting an imagined Inuit village of the future inspired by Saturday morning cartoons such as ‘The Jetsons’. There is a husky with a jetpack and a bubble helmet about to blast off, a direct nod to my friend Jesse Tungilik and his “Sealskin Spacesuit”, also in the show.

The constellations depicted in each scene and on the doors add another layer to the piece, the left side containing the Inuit constellation, Tukturjuit, the Caribou, also known as the Big Dipper, and the right side containing Ullaktut, The Runners, also known as the three bright stars in Orion’s Belt.

The circular projection in the eye is set to the sound of crashing waves with a rhythmic drum beat, field recordings I made for this piece. The scenes projected are edited to the beat of the drum, alternating between fractal forms and live-action sequences I made, filmed, and recorded during my travels to Labrador over the past fifteen years.

This installation is a space of meditation with its mysterious flickering light, rhythmic sound, and panoramic visuals. Iluani/Silami is a portal to a magic place of overlapping time of past present, and future; a container that holds some of my love of Labrador through a connection to its legends, land, sea, and stars.

Inuktut 

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕗᐊᑦᓯᑭᐅᕗᖓ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐆᒥᖓ ᐃᓄᐊ.

ᐃᒡᓗᕋᓛᖅ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᓕᐊᖑᔪᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᑯᓐᓂ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᒪᓇᕐᔪᐊᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᑰᕗᖅ. ᓴᖅᑲᓕᐊᓯᐅᑉ ᐃᒡᓗᕋᓛᕆᔫᔮᖅᐸᖓ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᓄᓇᕗᓕᐊᕈᔾᔭᐅᕗᓯ. ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᓐᓇᖅᐳᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂ ᐃᒡᓗᕋᓛᖑᔪᓂ ᑕᑯᕙᒃᑕᓐᓂ ᓄᓇᕗᓕᒫᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᑐᖑᔪᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᓚᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᐸᓗᒋᕙᖓ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᒪ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐃᒡᓗᕋᓛᖓᓐᓂ ᐅᐊᖕᓇᒥ ᑕᓯᐅᔭᕐᔪᐊᒥ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑲᖏᖅᓱᐊᓗᖕᒥ.

ᐃᒡᓗᕋᓛᖅ ᐃᓯᕈᕕᐅᒃ, ᑕᑕᑕᐅᕗᑎᑦ ᓂᐱᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᒐᒃᓴᐅᔪᓂ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᕐᙲᓇᑲᐅᑎᒋᑲᓴᒃ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᔫᔮᖅᐳᖓ. ᑎᓴᒪᓂ ᐊᕙᓗᓂ ᓈᓚᒍᓐᓇᖅᐳᑎᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑐᐊᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᔪᓂ ᐃᓄᑐᖃᕐᓂ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓂᐱᐅᕗᑦ ᓱᕈᓯᐅᓚᐅᕐᓂᓐᓂ. ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒥ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᓕᐊᖑᔪᒥ ᐃᓕᓴᖅᓯᑲᐅᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᓰᕐᓇᕐᒥ, ᖁᖑᓕᖅ, ᓱᕈᓰᑦ ᑐᓂᓯᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᑐᖃᕐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᖃᓂᕋ ᓰᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓂᕐᒥ ᓂᕆᓂᕐᒥ ᐱᕈᖅᓯᐊᖑᔪᒥ. ᖁᙱᐊᖅᖢᓂ ᓱᕈᓯᓂ ᐱᙳᐊᖅᑐᓂ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐊᓇᐅᓕᒑᕐᓂᐅᔪᒥ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᒥ ᓯᕈᓯᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓂᓐᓂ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓂᕐᒥ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᖕᒥ. ᑕᒪᒃᑭᓗᒃᑖᖅ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓᓂ ᓴᙱᔪᐊᓗᖕᒥ ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᖕᓂᐅᕗᖅ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐱᐅᓗᐊᖅᑐᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᒧᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᐅᔪᒥ ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᖕᓇᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᖅᓯᒪᓂᓐᓂ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᖏᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᖅ 1-ᒥᑉᐳᖓ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ.

ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᒥ ᐅᕙᓐᓂ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᕗᖅ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖓᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓈᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᕙᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᓄᓇᖏᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᐅᑉ ᕿᑭᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂ, ᑕᕐᕆᔭᓕᐊᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂ ᐊᖅᑯᒻᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᒥᑦᑕᕐᕕᖕᒥ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᕐᓇᓂ ᕿᓯᓕᕆᔪᓂ ᓯᒡᔭᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪ ᓱᕈᓰᑦ ᓯᓚᒥ ᐊᓃᕋᔭᒃᑐᓂ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᐃᓐᓇᐅᕗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑐᙵᓇᖅᖢᓂ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖏᓐᓂ. ᓴᓂᓕᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᓕᒫᓄᑦ ᑐᓵᑎᑕᐅᓂᐅᔪᓂ ᐅᔭᕋᖕᓂᐊᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᒥᑦᑎᒪᑕᓕᐅᑉ ᖃᓂᒋᔭᖓᓂ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᔾᔪᑎᕐᔪᐊᖑᕗᖅ ᑭᓱᑦ ᐅᓗᕆᐊᓇᖅᑐᒦᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂ ᓇᒃᓴᕈᕕᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᑕᐅᓂᐅᔪᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑭᓗᒃᑖᖅ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓂᖓᓂ ᓴᙱᔪᐊᓘᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᑰᕗᖅ ᐆᒻᒪᑎᖓᓐᓃᑦᑐᓂ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ, ᐃᖏᕐᕋᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᐅᔪᒥ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᖏᓐᓂ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂ.

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

The cabin with videos by Isuma is an amazing and surreal experience. It looks like Zach’s cabin from the outside, and inside you are taken to Nunavut. The building is reminiscent of many cabins I see across Nunavut, and the blue colour is especially similar of my parents own cabin in northern Tasiujarjuaq, or Hudson Bay.

Once inside the cabin, you are encased by sounds and visuals of Nunavut, and almost immediately I feel like I am back home. On the four walls you can listen to the stories told by Elders. These are sounds of my childhood. In one scene I recognized instantly the siirnaq, the mountain sorrel plant, the children shared with the Elders, and my mouth salivated at the memory of eating the plant. Watching kids play Inuit baseball could be a scene taken from my own childhood memories in Igluligaarjuk. The entire installation is a palpable and ethereal experience that makes me feel like I am at home, but yet I am on Treaty One Territory.

The scenes of the everyday remind me of the importance of Inuit Nunaat for the people that live there. The landscapes of Iglulik island, the footage of people on the street and at the airport, the scene of the women cleaning sealskins on the beach, and the children playing outside are all important and intimate aspects of Inuit lives. Juxtapose that with the public hearings about mining near Mittimatalik is a stark reminder of what’s at stake when you bring in development and industry to our land. The entire installation is a powerful experience of what is at the heart of many Inuit, which is the continuation of our ways of life.

Inuktut

ᐅᕙᖓ ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕙᔅᑭ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᖅ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᐅᑕᖅ. ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔨᐅᖃᑕᐅᔪᑦ−ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎ ᐃᓄᐊᒧᑦ.

ᑖᒻᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᑦᑐᒻᓄᑦ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᕝᕙ ᐊᑖᑦᓯᐊᒻᓄᑦ. ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐊᑖᑕᑦᓯᐊᖓ, ᕕᒃᑐ ᓴᒻᒧᖅᑐᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓚᒃᑲ ᒪᓕᒃᑐᑦ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᕕᒃᑐᒧᑦ ᐊᓐᒪᓗ ᐊᑖᑦᓯᐊᒻᓄᑦ, ᐊᒪᐅᕋ ᐃᒐᓛᖅ. ᕕᒃᑐ ᓇᑦᓯᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒐᓛᖅ ᐊᐃᕕᓕᖕᒥᑦ. ᕿᑐᕐᖓᖏᓪᓗ, ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ, ᐱᕈᕐᕕᒻᓂ.

ᑕᑯᓵᕋᑉᑯ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᕐᕕᒋᓚᐅᒐᕋ ᐃᓚᓐᓈᕋ.  ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᐸᑉᓂᐊᑉᓗᓂ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᒃᑲ ᐊᑖᑕᑦᓯᐊᒪ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑑᒑᑉ ᓯᐅᕋᖏᑦ ᑎᒥᐊᓄᑦ ᐊᓚᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᑑᒑᖅ ᐱᐅᓂᒋᖅᐹᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐃᓐᓇᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓇᓗᓇᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᖓᓄᑦ. ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ, ᕕᒃᑐ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᐃᕕᐅᑉ ᑐᒑᖓᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᐃᓚᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᖑᑦ ᖃᔭᕐᒥ ᒪᖃᐃᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᐃᕕᕐᒥᒃ, ᑎᒻᒥᐊ, ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᕆᒐᓂᐊᑦ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᑎᖃ ᖃᓄᐃᔮᖅᐸᐃᑎᑐᑦ ᐊᐃᕕᐅᑉ ᑑᒑᖓ ᑐᙵᕝᕕᒃ. ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᓯᐊᕈᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓᓄᑦ.

ᐊᒥᓱᑦ, ᐃᑦᑐᕋ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᕈᑎᒋᔭᕋ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᕆᔭᖓᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᖓ ᑲᒪᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓄᑦ. ᐱᕈᖅᓯᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᑦᓯᐊᑎᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓐᓂᕆᔭᖓᓄᑦ ᐆᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᑭᖑᕚᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᑉᓗᒥ, ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᑐᙵᕝᕕᒃ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᕌᖓᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖅ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᐊᖓᓄᑦ ᑐᙵᕝᕕᒃᓴᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᐱᔪᒪᓂᒻᓄᑦ ᐅᐱᒋᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᒻᓄᑦ. 

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

This carving was made by my ittuq, or great grandfather. He was my mother’s father’s father, Victor Sammurtok, and many of my relatives trace their own ancestry to him and my great grandmother, my amauq Igalaaq. Victor was from Natsilik, and Igalaaq was from Aivilik. With their children, they eventually settled in Igluligaarjuk, where I was raised.

When I first saw this piece in the collection I messaged my mom about it. She began sharing with me her memories of her grandfather. She remembers him carving at home, and was often covered in ivory dust. Ivory was a favourite medium of his to carve, and she always makes note of his intricate work. As one whole carving, Victor has carved into the walrus tusk a series of images. These include a man in a qajaq hunting walrus, a qamutik, a bird, a seal and foxes. He has also carved his name in syllabics into the whalebone base. He wanted to make sure we knew he made this carving.

In many ways, my ittuq’s detailed work inspires me. His craftsmanship demonstrates the care he took in his work, and he is remembered as a man of integrity. He raised his family with the same care he took in his work, and that attitude has lived on through many of his descendants today, many of whom are hard working and creative. The standard of care and attention to detail that he set is something I strive to honour and embody.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun.

It’s incredibly special how Jenny Irene Miller spotlights queer identities and offers a platform for our queer relations to share their stories. I don’t necessarily like to use this term often, but I feel like this work fits within my perspective of art that is decolonial. In my view, restrictive binaries forced upon gender and sexuality are one of the most destructive components of colonialism that we are still dealing with today. Jenny’s ongoing practice of care in upholding and sharing these stories beautifully demonstrates how artists can use their voice and perspective to deconstruct colonial systems in a nuanced and tender way.

There is a remarkable amount of power behind being able to bring our whole selves into view, and being able to share the parts of us that have been denied humanity. I don’t have the words to describe how beautiful it is to be able to see autonomous Inuk queerness displayed within the walls of a gallery. 

Inuktut

ᐁ, ᐊᓰᓐᓇᔮᖑᕗᖓ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᑦᑐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓄᑦᔪᐊᒥᐅᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ ᑎᐆᑎᐊ:ᑮᒥ ᒪᓐᑐᔨᐊᖑᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᕙᒻᒥᔪᒥ ᑯᐯᒃᒥ ᓄᓇᓯᒪᓂᕐᓴᐅᓱᖓᔪᖓ.

ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᐊᒥᓱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᔭᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᓕᕐᑐᖅ. ᐅᓇ ᑌᒫᑐᐃᓐᓇᑎᖕᖏᑕᕋ ᑮᑕ ᐊᑖᑕᑦᓯᐊᕋᓄᑦ ᐃᕐᙯᑎᒋᑦᓱᒍᓘᕋᒃᑯ! ᐊᑖᑕᑦᓯᐊᕋ ᓯᒥᐅᓂ ᐊᒪᕈᕐᑐᖅ ᐅᐃᑖᓗᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᓪᓚᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᐊᓪᓚᓯᒪᔪᑦᓴᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᕐᖃᖃᑎᒌᒍᑎᑦᓴᒥᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᑕᒫᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᐊᑑᑎᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᓐᓄᑦ ᓄᑦᑎᓂᖃᓚᐅᕋᑎᒃ ᐊᓪᓚᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᐊᓪᓚᑕᖏᑕ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᖃᕐᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓄᓕᖓᔪᓂᒃ. ᐊᔪᒉᑦᑐᐊᓘᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓪᓚᑕᕕᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᖓᔪᑦ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐅᕈᓰᑦ! ᑐᑭᓯᒪᔭᒃᑲᑎᒍᓪᓕ, ᐃᓚᒌᖑᑦᓱᑕ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᓯᒪᓂᖅ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᓯᒪᖕᖏᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᑑᑎᒍᓐᓇᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᒻᒥᔭᕗᑦ ᐃᓚᖓᓂᒃ ᑌᒣᒍᒪᓕᑐᐊᕋᑦᑕ! ᐊᑖᑕᑦᓯᐊᒪ ᐊᓪᓚᓯᒪᔪᖁᑎᖏᑦ, ᐊᔮᓗᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᔭᖕᖑᐊᓕᐊᕕᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᖕᖑᐊᕈᑎᒋᓲᕆᕙᒃᑲ ᓇᓃᓪᓗᖓ ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕈᓐᓇᓂᕋᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᑐᓴᓂᒃ, ᐃᕐᖃᐅᒪᒍᑎᒋᒐᒃᑭᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓘᕈᓐᓇᓂᖃᕐᒪᖔᕐᒪ.

Engli

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

Elisapee has made so many incredibly beautiful dolls in her lifetime. This one is special because it reminds me also of my grandfather! My grandfather Simionie Amarurtaq Weetaluktuk made a journal to document and share his knowledge on daily life and ways of being before moving into town. One portion of the journal documented his knowledge of clothing. It was so remarkable to see the clothes made from birds! To my understanding, in our family and camp it wasn’t the habit, but it could always be done when needed! My grandfather’s journal, and my great-aunt’s doll make me dive into my imagination where I can invent so many creative uses for things, because they remind me what I am capable of.

Inuktut

ᑕᖅᑑᔪᖓ, ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ. ᐅᕙᖓ ᑮᓚ ᐴᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ.

ᐃᓱᒪᔭᕌᖓᒪ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒫᒃ ᑐᕌᖓᔪᑦ ᓄᑕᖅᑲᓄᑦ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᓇᔭᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᑕᖅᑲᓄᑦ ᕿᑎᒍᑎᒋᓂᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐆᑦᑐᕋᖅᑕᐅᔾᔪᑎᒋᑉᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᓇᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᒥᑭᔫᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑳᖅᑎᓐᓇᒋᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑯᖅᑐᓗᐊᙱᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂ. 

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕈᒪᔪᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐸᕐᓇᒃᑐᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒥ. ᐊᒪᐅᑎ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᖅᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᕗᑦ ᐅᖅᑰᑎᒋᓂᐊᕐᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓂᒋᐊᖅᑎᓐᓂᐊᓗᒋᑦ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓂᐊᕐᓂᕆᔭᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐊᒫᖅᑐᒧᑦ. ᐃᑲᔪᖃᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᒧᑦ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᙱᓐᓂᖓᓄᑦ. ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑏᑦ ᐸᕐᓇᒃᑐᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑏᑦ ᓇᒡᓕᒍᓱᖃᑕᐅᒻᒪᑕ ᓄᑕᕋᓛᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔪᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᐊᑦᑕᕐᓇᙱᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᐅᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᖅ ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓴᓇᓗᓂ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᓈᓇᐅᑉᓗᓂ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᒃᑯᑕᐅᑉᓗᓂ ᐊᓈᓇᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᑉᑎᓐᓂ. ᐊᓈᓇᐅᔪᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᑉᑎᓐᓂ ᐃᓅᒐᓗᐊᕈᕕᑦ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᒍᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᐃᕕᖅ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᑎᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᕙ ᑰᑐᒃᒧᑦ.

ᐱᖃᑖ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᓗᒍ ᐊᖑᑦ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᔪᖕᒥᒃ. ᑕᑯᒑᖓᑉᑯ ᐃᓱᒪᓱᖅᑐᖓ ᐅᖁᒪᐃᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᖑᑎᑦ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᓲᖑᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᔨᑦᑎᕋᐅᑎᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᒪᒋᐊᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑭᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᒪᖃᐃᓐᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂ. ᖃᓄᐃᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓯᓚ -50°C, ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᓂᕆᒋᐊᖃᕐᒪᑕ. ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᑖᒻᓇ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓱᓕ, ᐅᑉᓗᒥᐅᔪᒥ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᖑᑎᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓱᓕ ᒪᖃᐃᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ. 

ᐱᖃᑖ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔪᒪᔭᕋ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓕᒃ. ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᒍ ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓕᖓᓄᑦ. ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓖᑦ ᓱᑕᐃᕈᑕᐅᖅᑲᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑯᓂᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᖁᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᒍ. ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓱᓕ, ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑉᐱᕐᓂᖅ ᑎᕆᒍᓱᖕᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᑭᓯᒥᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᖁᓕᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒍ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐅᑎᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᒐᓐᓈᖅᑎᑦᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᓕᒫᖓᓂ. ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓕᕗᑦ ᐅᑎᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ. ᐅᕙᖓ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖑᔪᖓ ᐃᓚᓐᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑲᒃᑭᓂᓕᖃᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒃᑲ ᐊᒐᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔪᖓ ᖁᒃᓴᓱᒃᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᕐᓂᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᔪᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓗᒍ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖃᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐃᓕᓴᐃᔨᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒫᓘᑎᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᔭᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᓂᖃᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖓ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑎᔅᓴᓂᒃ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕋᔭᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑕᐅᓂᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᖅᑎᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᓂᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ. 

ᑭᖑᓪᓕᖅ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔪᒪᔭᕋ ᐆᒪᔫᔮᖅᑐᒥᒃ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᖓᓂᑕᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓴᐃᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᑐᐃᓐᓇᒧᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᕆᙱᑕᕋ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᓄᑦ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅᑎᑐᑦ, ᐃᓚᖏ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᖑᔪᑎᑐᑦ. ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ, ᐃᓕᓴᐃᓂᖅ

ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐃᓕᒪᓱᒋᔭᐅᓂᖓᓄᑦ. ᐆᖅᑑᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᖅ ᖃᓪᓗᐸᓪᓗᐃᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᑎᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᐃᑦ ᓱᑯᒧᐊᖅᑕᐃᓕᒪᖁᓪᓗᒋᑦ. 

ᑭᖑᓪᓕᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔪᒪᔭᕋ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᓗᕈᑎᒃᓴᓂᒃ. ᐊᓗᕈᑎᒃᓴᖃᙱᑦᑐᖅ, ᒥᖅᑯᓂᒃ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᒥᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᓇᔭᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓱᓕ ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑎᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐃᓕᑕᕐᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓇᑭᙶᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒐᔪᒃᑐᑦ ᑕᒪᑦᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᓂᐅᔪᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒪᑦᑕ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒥᑦ ᓇᑭᙶᖅᓯᒪᔪᒍᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑕᓯᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑎᓴᒪᓄᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ, ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᑎᒃ ᑕᑯᓗᒍ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᖅ; ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᓐᓂᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑲᓯᒌᒃᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᒥᐅᑕᓂ. 

ᐊᔪᕐᓇᙱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᑯᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᙳᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᐃᑦ. ᐱᓕᒻᒪᒃᓴᖃᑎᒋᕙᒃᑲ ᐃᓗᓕᒫᑦ ᑕᑯᒋᐊᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓗᒍ. ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑦ ᓱᒻᒪᖔᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ? ᓇᑭᙶᖅᐸᑦ? ᑭᓇᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᕆᔭᕆᕙᐅᒃ? ᑭᓇᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᕙ? ᑲᒪᒋᒍᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᓂᐊᖅᑐᑎᑦ ᑐᑭᖓᓄᑦ ᓄᑕᕋᖑᐊᖑᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. 

English

Taqtujunga, kangiq&iniqmiutautjunga. I am Kayla Bruce and I am from Rankin Inlet Nunavut.

When I think of dolls my mind automatically goes to children. Originally dolls created by Inuit would have been made for children to play with and to practice making miniature pieces of clothing before they moved onto real sizes when they got older. 

I want to start by talking about the dolls that are animals but are packing their babies in their Amautik. An amautik is what we use to keep our babies warm and close to us. It helps with forming bonds between the child and whoever is carrying them. It also helps the child feel safe. I think the representation of the animals packing their babies shows that animals just like us care for their babies and want to keep them safe too. The fact that anyone would create a doll that is a mom shows the importance and significance moms are to our lives. Moms are at the very beginning of life whether you are a human like us or a walrus like the doll made by Eva Kootook.

The next doll I want to draw attention to is the man who is carrying wood. When I see it I think of all the weight that men carry. Traditionally they were the providers and would have to face all the elements to go hunting. It didn’t matter if it was -50℃, their family still had to eat. I think that this still fits in, in a modern day context. Inuit men still do a majority of the hunting. 

The next doll I want to draw attention to is the doll with tattoos. This doll holds significance just by the fact that it has tattoos. Tattooing was very nearly stripped away by the missionaries and for a long period of time Inuit were not allowed to do this practice. Even when we were allowed to, lots of people still didn’t because there was a religious taboo around it. It’s only in the last 10 years that Inuit, especially Inuit women have begun to practice again. There is a tattoo revitalization movement and have been workshops across northern Canada. Our tattoos have come back to us and for us only. I myself am the first one in my family to have Inuit tattoos done on my fingers. I remember being so nervous about what others would think but it was something I really wanted to do. I also am in school to become a teacher and was worried about what school administration would think, but I have felt nothing but curiosity and support from both staff and students about them. 

The last doll I want to draw close attention to is the doll that looks like a creature. Inuit stories and legends are a major part of oral history and teachings. This doll doesn’t make me think of one story but it does remind me of how eerie, like the doll, some of the stories are. All stories have a lesson, a teaching or a deterrent. For example the story of the qallupilluit were told to keep children from going onto the ice alone. 

The last thing I would like to point out about the dolls is that they are made of many different materials. There is no one fabric, fur, or skin that they are done in. They would have been made and are still being made with what is available to the maker. There is a lot of creativity and differences amongst the dolls and I think that shows the diverseness of Inuit. People like to think that we are all the same and come from the same place. Inuit Nunangat within Canada stretches along 4 territories and provinces. Within our culture and people, there are different styles of clothing which you can see when looking at the dolls; some styles are more common in certain regions. 

Although it is easy to look at the dolls and see them just as dolls or art work. I challenge everyone to take a deeper look. Think about why they were created? Where did they come from? Who made it? Who was it for? Do this and you will find deeper meaning than them just being dolls. 

Inuktut

ᑯᕆᔅᑕᐅᕗᖓ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᐅᐊᑦᓯᑭ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᔪᒥᖓᓂᑯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᖃᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᑑᔅᓱᒥᖓ ᐃᓄᐊ.

ᐊᑐᓂ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᒐᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᐃᓱᓪᓗᑕᐅᑉ ᓱᑲᕈᔪᒃ−ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒍᑎ ᐸᓕᐊᒻᒥ ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᑎᑕᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓂ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ. ᐃᓚᖓᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᒍᑎᖃᒃᐳᖅ “ᐊᕐᓇᖁᒃ”, ᐊᑖᑕᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓᓂᒃ. ᐊᓯᒃᑲᓐᓂᖓᓗ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᒍᓯᖃᕆᕗᖅ “ᐊᕗᓂᖅ”, ᐊᓈᓇᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᖑᓪᓕᖅᐹᖅ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓱᕈᓯᖑᐊᒍᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᒍᓯᖃᑉᐳᖅ “ᒪᓚᐃᔭ”, ᖃᑕᙳᑎᖓᓂᒃ. ᑲᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᔅᓯᒻᒪᑕ ᐱᖓᓲᓕᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᒐᕐᓂᒃ. ᐱᖓᓲᓕᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊᖑᖁᔨᔪᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᒪᑕ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓇᓱᐊᖅᑕᖓᓂ ᐊᕐᓇᒥᒃ ᐊᖑᑎᒥᓪᓗ ᕿᑐᙵᓕᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓂ.

ᓱᑲᕈᔪᒃ−ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒍᑎ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓲᖑᒻᒪᑦ ᓴᓇᒍᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᖅᓯᒪᓗᑎᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᓯᒪᓗᑎᒃ ᐸᓕᐊᕐᒥ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒍᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᑲᕈᔪᒻᒥᒃ. ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᐱᒪ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒍᑎᒋᒻᒪᒋᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᕈᓘᔭᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖁᑎᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᓂᖓᓂ.

ᐃᓕᓴᓐᓇᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᑎᒎᓇ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑎᒍ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᑕ ᓴᕿᑎᔅᓯᒻᒪᑕ ᐃᒃᐱᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᐸᓘᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᐳᐅᑉ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑕ. ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᐱᒧᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᓕᐅᑎᒻᒪᑕ ᑕᕝᕗᖓ ᐃᓄᐊᕐ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓇᓱᐊᖅᑕᖓᓄᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᓯᕗᒧᐊᖃᑎᒌᓐᓂᒻᒧᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᔭᐅᑎᒐᓱᐊᓪᓗᒍ ᑐᙵᕕᖓ ᑕᐃᑲᖓᑦ ᐃᓅᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᕕᒋᔭᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ: ᐃᓚᒋᔭᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ.

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

Each print of Elisapee Ishulutaq’s sugar-lift etchings is a representation of one of her family members. One print is titled “Arnaquk”, her father. Another print is titled “Auvuniq”, her mother and the last print of a child is titled “Malaiya”, her sister. Put together the prints create a triptych of the prints. The three-fold imagery plays on the theme of nuclear family among Inuit.

A sugar-lift is a way to create painterly marks on an etching plate by using a paint brush and a sugar solution. The work my Elisapee is a testament to her range of skills as an artist.

The familiarity of her family though the details of their clothing creates a sense of intimacy in Elisapee’s work. The prints by Elisapee tie into INUA’s theme through the idea of going forward together, highlighting the foundation from which we come from: our families.

Inuktut

ᐊᑎᖃᕐᖁᖓ ᐃᓴᐱᐋᓪ ᐊᕕᖕᖓᖅ ᑦᓴᑭᐊᑦᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᓱᖓ ᐱᕈᕐᓴᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᒪᓐᑐᔨᐊᑉ ᐊᕙᑖᓂ, ᐱᑐᑦᓯᒪᕗᖓᓗ ᐃᒃᓗᓕᒃ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒧᑦ ᐊᓈᓇᒻᒪ ᐱᕈᕐᓴᕕᒋᑦᓱᒍ ᐃᓅᓕᕐᕕᒋᓯᒪᔭᖓᓄᑦ. 

ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖏᑦ ᒪᑎᐅᓯ ᐃᔦᑦᑑᑉ ᐃᕗᔨᕕᒻᒥᐅᑉ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐁᑦᓯᐋᓐ ᑯᐁᑉ ᐱᓯᒪᔫᑉ Saint-Jean-Port-Joli-ᒥᑦ ᐱᐅᒋᓂᕐᐹᑲᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖅ. ᐊᑦᓯᕋᐅᑎᖃᕐᓱᓂ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᐹᖅ ᐃᖃᓘᓪᓚᒥᓘᖅ ᓄᓇᒥ ᓂᒪᕐᓂᖃᕈᓐᓇᑐᖅ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓇᓪᓕᐅᓂᕐᓯᐅᓂᖃᕐᑎᓗᒋᑦ Biennale de Sculpture de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli-ᒥ, ᑕᒃᑲᓂ ᓱᔪᖃᕐᓂᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᖏᓐᓇᓱᖑᖕᖏᑐᒥᒃ ᐱᓂᐊᕐᓂᖃᕐᕕᐅᓚᐅᔪᕗᖅ ᐊᑑᑎᔭᐅᓂᖃᓚᐅᔪᒐᒥ ᐃᓗᕐᖁᓯᖃᑎᒌᑦᓴᔭᐅᖕᖏᑐᑦ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᓐᓂᖓᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐅᕐᓯᖃᑎᒌᓐᓂᐅᓱᓂ ᓴᓇᓂᐅᑉ ᐱᐅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓᓕ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᒪᕆᐅᒋᐊᖓ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᓇᓱᑦᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᕗᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑦᓱᒋᑦ ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᒪᒍᑎᖃᕐᓂᖓᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓘᕐᑕᐅᒍᑎᖃᕐᓯᒪᓂᖓᓗ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᒪᒐᒥ ᐊᕐᖁᑎᒥ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᕆᒍᑎᑦᓴᔭᓂᑦ ᑐᑦᑑᑉ ᓇᑦᔪᖏᓐᓂᓗ. ᑕᑯᔪᒍᑦ ᑐᑦᑑᑉ ᓇᑦᔪᖏᑕ ᐊᖏᓂᖏᒃ ᐊᐅᐸᕐᑑᒋᐊᖏᒃ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᑐᑦᑐ ᓇᑦᔪᒌᒃ ᐊᒥᕃᔭᓕᕐᑑᒃ. 

ᑖᓐᓇ ᓄᑦᑎᑲᑕᒍᓐᓇᓱᓂ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᕈᑎᐅᑦᓱᓂ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᑎᖓ ᐊᕙᑖᒍᑦ ᐱᓱᑦᑐᖅ ᑫᕙᓪᓚᕙᓪᓕᐊᒍᑦᔭᐅᖔᕐᑐᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᖃᖔᕐᓂᐊᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᐊᑕᕕᖃᕐᓱᓂ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᐅᑎᐅᑉ ᐅᓯᕕᖓᓂᒃ, ᒪᑎᐅᓯ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᐅᑎᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᓂᖃᓚᐅᔪᕗᖅ ᑕᒃᑲᓂ ᓇᓪᓕᐅᓂᕐᓯᐅᑐᓂ, ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔭᑲᑦᓱᓂ ᑕᑯᔭᕐᑐᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᑯᕐᖓᒍᑦ. ᖁᕕᐊᓱᐊᔪᕕᓂᐅᒍᓇᖁᑎᒋᑦᓯᐊᑕᕋ ᓴᓇᓂᖓᓂᓗ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᓂᖃᕐᓂᖓᓂᓗ. ᐃᑉᐱᓂᐊᕈᑎᒋᒐᒃᑯ ᐊᓕᐊᑦᓴᓇᕐᑐᕕᓂᐅᓂᖓ ᑖᑦᓱᒪ ᓴᓇᒪᔫᑉ. ᐅᕙᓐᓄᓕ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᒪᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᓄᑖᓂᑦ ᐱᔭᖃᕋᓱᓐᓂᐅᒍᓐᓇᑑᑉ. ᓲᓱᒋᑦᓯᐊᑕᒃᑲ ᒪᑎᐅᓯ ᐃᔦᑦᑑᑉ ᓴᓇᓲᖏᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᖏᓐᓇᓱᖑᖕᖏᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᖃᕐᓱᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᓱᖑᒻᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᐃᒣᑉᐳᑦ ᓚᔭᐅᒍᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᖄᖏᐅᑎᓱᖑᒻᒪᑦ. 

ᐱᐅᒋᓂᕐᐹᕋᓕ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓱᑎᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᖑᒍᓐᓇᓂᖓᑦ. ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᒪᑦ ᐃᒃᓗᓕᖕᒥᐅᔭᐅᑦᓱᓂ ᐊᑖᑕᒐᓗ ᒍᐃᒍᐃᖅ ᑯᐯᒃᒥᐅᔭᐅᑦᓱᓂ, ᑌᒣᒻᒪᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᒪᔫᔮᕐᐳᖓ ᑖᑦᓱᒥᖓ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ, ᐅᐱᒍᓱᒍᓐᓇᓂᖃᕋᑦᑕ ᑕᒪᖏᑕ ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒋᕕᓃᒃ ᖃᓄᐃᓘᕈᓯᒋᒍᓐᓇᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐃᓗᕐᖁᓯᖏᒃ ᐊᑦᔨᒌᖑᒐᑎᒃ, ᑭᓇᐅᓂᖏᓪᓗ ᐊᕙᑎᖏᓪᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓚᑦᓲᑎᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᓕᓯᒪᔫᒃ. ᓲᕐᓗ ᐅᕙᑦᑐᑦ. 

English

My name is Isabelle Avingaq Choquette and I’m an Inuk who grew up in the Montreal area, I have ties to Igloolik Nunavut from my mothers side of the family. 

This work created by Matiusi Iyaituk from Ivujivik and Etienne guay from Saint-Jean-Port-Joli is one of my favourite pieces. The title is First Mermaid ( Iqaluullamiluuq ) that can Maneuver on Land. Created at the Biennale de Sculpture de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, this event was a special occasion for intercultural collaboration and exchanges of technique, I think this is beautifully displayed in this work when you see all the different materials and techniques. Going from road signs to wood and caribou antlers. We notice the main caribou antlers are red, like when the caribou sheds their velvet. 

This mobile work was created with the idea that it is not the spectator who walks around the sculpture, but vice versa. It is mounted on a sidecar attached to a motorcycle, Mattiusi actually performed this piece at the Biennale, driving around the visitors.  I can just imagine the fun he had making and performing the work. I can feel the playfulness in this piece. For me it expresses the joy of trying new things. I have so much respect for Mattiusi Iyaituk’s work owing to the fact that he pushes the boundaries of what Inuit is perceived to be. 

What I love the most about the artwork is the collaboration part. With my mother being an Inuk from Igloolik and my dad a French Quebecois, I can relate to this piece in that way, as we can perceive and appreciate the influences from both artists, their different cultures, identities and environments intertwined into one. Like me. 

Inuktut

ᐊᐃᖓᐃ, ᐳᕌᓐᓴᓐ ᔮᒃᖑᔪᖓ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᖓ ᑕᐅᑐᑦᑕᒥᒍᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑎᐅᔪᖓ ᐴᔅᑦᕕᐅᓪ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᑦᒥ.

ᐃᖃᓗᒥᓂᖅ ᐆᔪᕐᒧᑦ ᐆᓇᔪᑦᑐᒥ ᑐᙵᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᓪᓗ ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᓕᕈᑎᒋᓲᕋ. ᐊᓃᕋᔭᓚᐅᖅᓱᖓ ᐊᐳᒻᒥᑦ, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕋᔭᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᐃᓯᕐᓗᑕ ᓇᐃᒪᓗᑕ ᐆᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ ᐅᑲᓖᑦ ᓂᕿᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᐊᕋᑦ, ᐸᑏᑏᑦ, ᑳᐸᑦᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖃᓗᑦᑕᐅᕋᑖᖅᑐᒥᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᑲᒫᓗᑉᐳᑦ ᖃᐅᓯᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐲᕋᔭᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᓪᓗ ᐸᓂᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᕐᓗᑕ, ᖃᑕᙳᑎᒃᑲᓗ ᐃᖏᕋᔭᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᓂᕆᖃᑕᐅᓕᕐᓗᑕ ᐊᓗᕝᕕᖃᕐᓗᑕ ᒪᒪᖅᑐᐊᓗᒻᒥᑦ. ᑕᕆᐅᓕᒃᑲᓐᓂᕋᓛᕐᓗᑎᒃᑯᑦ ᐸᐸᒥᓪᓗ ᓂᕆᓚᐅᙱᓐᓂᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ, ᖁᔭᓕᔪᐃᓐᓇᐅᕗᒍᑦ ᓂᕆᓂᐊᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᕈᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᓂᖀᑦ ᐃᓕᔾᔨᕕᓐᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᒥᒐᓗᐊᓪᓚᕆᑦᑐᑦ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥ ᔅᑐᕌᐱᐊᕆᒥᒃ ᓂᕆᒋᐅᕋᒪ, 13-ᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖃᔪᔪᖓ! ᑕᒪᓐᓇᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᑭᑐᔪᕐᔪᐊᕐᓂᖏᓪᓗ, ᓂᐅᕕᓗᐊᕈᓐᓇᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᒍᑦ ᐸᑏᑎᑯᑖᓂᒃ ᐅᖅᓱᒨᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓇᓗᐊᙳᐊᓂᒃ. ᖁᔭᓕᓇᖅᑯᖅ, ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒍᓐᓇᕋᑦᑕ, ᐃᖃᓪᓕᐊᕈᓐᓇᖅᓱᑕᓗ ᐊᑐᑦᑎᐊᕈᓐᓇᕋᑦᑕᓗ ᓄᓇᒥ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᑦ ᐆᒪᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᑎᒍ. ᐊᒥᓱᐊᖅᑎ, ᓴᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑮᓯᒐᔭᖅᑐᖓ, ᐊᑖᑕᒐ ᐃᓪᓚᖅᓯᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᖃᕋᔭᖅᑐᖅ, “ᑖᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓐᓄᑐᐊᖅ ᐱᐅᔪᖅ!”. ᐃᓅᓯᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᑦᓱᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᖃᓗᒥᓂᖅ ᐆᔪᖅ ᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᖏᓐᓇᐅᔭᓚᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᕿᐊᕈᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐆᓇᖅᓯᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᑭᑖᑦᓯᐊᖅᓱᑕᓗ ᒪᔪᕋᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᓯᑐᕋᕐᓂᕐᒧᓪᓗ ᖃᖅᑲᓂᑦ, ᓇᐹᖅᑐᓕᖕᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒐᓱᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᖃᓂᒋᔭᑦᑎᓐᓂᓪᓗ ᖁᕕᐊᒋᔭᖃᖅᓱᑕ. ᒥᓯᖃᑦᑕᖅᓱᒋᑦ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᑉ ᐸᓚᐅᒐᔾᔨᐊᖏᑦ ᖃᔪᕐᒧᑦ, ᖁᔭᓕᕗᒍᑦ ᑕᕆᐅᑉ ᑭᓱᖃᐅᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒌᖑᓪᓗᑕ ᓂᕆᒍᓐᓇᕋᑦᑎᒍ. ᑏᕕᑉ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖓᑦ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒍ ᓴᖑᐃᓪᓛᔪᑦ ᐆᔭᐅᔭᑦ, ᐃᖃᓘᑉ ᐸᐱᕈᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑲᓕᐅᑉ ᓂᕿᖏᑦ ᑭᐅᕋᑦ, ᖁᖓᑐᐃᓐᓇᓕᖅᑯᖓᓕ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓪᓗᒋᓗ ᓂᕆᒐᔪᓚᐅᖅᑕᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᒪᒪᕆᓪᓚᕆᖃᑦᑕᔪᔭᕋᓂ.

English

Hello, my name is Bronson Jacque and I am an Inuit visual artist from Postville, Nunatsiavut.

Fish soup evokes such a warm and welcome feeling for me. After a day playing in the snow, we would return home, walking through the door to the aroma of boiled carrots, potatoes, cabbage and freshly caught fish. Flicking off our wet boots and changing into dry clothes, my siblings and I would excitedly pull a chair up to the table to a steaming bowl of goodness. Sprinkling on a bit of extra salt and pepper before digging in, we are all thankful for our meal. It would be generous to say that the variety of food stocking the shelves is limited. The first time I had a strawberry, I was 13! That compounded with the exorbitant prices, it was hard to afford much besides French fries and ramen. Thankfully, we are able to hunt, fish and respectfully use the land and wildlife to survive. Often, I’d bite into a stray bone, to which my father would laugh and say, “That’s only good for you!”. Life in the north can be hard, but fish soup was always around to warm our bellies and fuel our days climbing and sliding down hills, exploring the woods and enjoying our humble surroundings. Dipping Nan’s home-made bread into the broth, we give thanks to the sea’s bounty and our family to share it with. When seeing Teevee’s print with it’s swirls of greens, fish tails and carrots, I cannot help but smile and reminisce on the humble dish that I’ve always been eager to enjoy.

Inuktut

ᐊᑎᕋ ᔪᐃ ᐅᕼᑲᓐᓄᐊᒃ. ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑐᖓ ᐃᖃᓗᒃᑑᑦᑎᐊᖅ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦᒥ.

ᑎᖕᒥᐊᑦ ᒥᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᓴᐅᓂᕕᓃᑦ ᖁᓕᑦᑎᐊᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. 

ᑎᓴᒪᑦ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓂᕐᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᑲᑭᕙᒃᓯᒋᐊᕐᐳᑦ – ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂ ᐃᒫᓃᑦᑐᓂᒃ. 

ᑖᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓂᒃᑰᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᕿᑐᕐᖏᐅᕐᕕᒋᓂᐊᖅᑕᖏᓐᓗᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᓇᒧᙵᐅᔪᓐᓇᐃᓪᓗᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐅᔭᖅᑲᓄᑦ ᖃᓕᕇᓕᕐᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᓄᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᑕᐅᓚᐅᕐᑐᓂᒃ ᓯᕗᓂᐊᖑᑦ ᐃᑲᕐᕈᑎᒥ. 

ᐅᑯᐊ ᐅᔭᕋᒐᓚᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓴᐅᓂᒐᓚᐃᑦ ᑲᑎᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᕐᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᐊᕐᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᑕᖓ. ᓄᓇᑎᑑᙱᖢᑎᒃ, ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᐃᕋᑦᑐᐃᑦ. ᐅᓇ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᙱᓐᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓱᖅᑯᐃᓇᕐᓯᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ; ᑕᐅᑐᙳᐊᕋᒃᑯ ᐃᒪᖅ ᑰᒐᓛᒃᖢᓂ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑲᑕᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐱᖃᔮᙱᖢᓂ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑏᑦ ᐅᑕᖅᑭᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. 

ᐃᒃᐱᖕᓇᖅᖢᓂ ᓂᕆᐅᒃᑐᑦ ᓇᓕᐊᒃ ᐃᖃᓗᖄᕐᓂᐊᕆᒃᓴᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐱᒃᑯᒋᔭᖃᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕆᐅᓗᐊᕌᓗᖃᑦᑕᕆᐊᖃᙱᓐᓂᖅ. 

English

My name is Zoe Ohokannoak. I am from Ikaluktutiak, Nunavut.

Birds descending across the scenery of rapids of bone. 

Four hunters in the flowing water bringing down their Kakivaks – a type of spear – to pierce the fish below. 

Which have been ascending the rapids to reach their mating grounds, the fish have found themselves enveloped in a trap of carefully stacked rocks that the hunters had set previously. 

The combination of stone and bone materials contrast and compliment each other making the artist’s work clear. Unlike the nuna, the hunters and the animals are carved smooth. This differing texture brings to life an entire sensory experience with the details of each creature and item involved; I envision water flowing, fish splashing and eerie silence of the hunters waiting. 

Sensing the tension in the air of who’s going to get the first catch of the day. Being proud of a successful hunt and not to hold high expectations. 

Inuktut

ᐊᐃᖓᐃ, ᐊᓯᓇᔭᐅᔪᖓ, ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎ ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔨ ᑕᑯᒐᓐᓈᒐᖃᕐᕕᒻᒥ. ᐃᓄᒡᔪᐊᖅ, ᓄᓇᕕᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᓯᓗᒃᑖᖅᑲᔭᕋᓂ ᑎᐅᑎᐊ:ᑮᒦᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᓪ, ᑯᐱᒃ.

ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᒋᔭᖅ ᐊᐅᓚᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᙳᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ. ᐅᑭᐅᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᐃᑦ ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᒃᓯᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᐳᑎ ᖃᑯᕐᓂᖓ ᑐᖑᔪᖅᑕᙵᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᐸᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᔪᖅᑐᑦ. ᖃᐅᓪᓗᐊᕐᔪᑉ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓗᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᓂᖓ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ ᖁᑉᐸᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑕᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᑭᖓᓂᑦ, ᑲᐃᕕᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᑰᒃ. ᑖᑉᓱᒪ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖓ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔾᔪᑎᑦᓯᐊᕙᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᓅᔪᐃᑦᑐᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐆᒪᔪᑕᖃᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᓇᔪᕐᕕᖓ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓇᔪᕐᕕᒃ ᐊᐅᓚᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᐳᑉᓚᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑕᑦᑐᖅ. ᓂᕕᖓᔪᓕᐅᖅᑏᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ ᐸᐅᙵᖅᓯᐅᕆᐊᖅᑐᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᔨᒃᑲ ᑕᑯᔪᑦ ᐊᕚᓚᕿᐊᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᐃᑦ ᑎᒍᒻᒥᔪᑦ ᐱᕈᖅᓯᐊᓂᒃ. ᐃᔨᒃᑲ ᐅᐃᕙᒃᑲ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᖓ ᐸᐅᕐᖓᓂᒃ. ᐃᔨᒃᑲ ᒪᑐᕙᒃᑲ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᖓ ᐸᐅᕐᖓᓂᒃ. ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᖅᑐᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓗᒻᓂ ᐊᐅᓚᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᑭᓗᖏ − ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᖅ.

English

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

Our beautiful Inuit Nunaat is a landscape of movement and change.  Over the seasons we witness the lands as they grow and melt, shifting from snowy whites to vibrant greens and rusty reds and browns. Qaulluaryuks compositions and stitching bring to this work a motion that transports me to the rising and falling of the foothills, the winding of a river. This work is a great reminder that the Inuit Nunangat can hardly be described as a still or lifeless place. Rather it is a place of constant motion, effervescing with life. The tapestries remind me of when I go berry picking, and my eyes only see the bushes and ground hugging plants. I open my eyes, and I see berries. I close my eyes, and I see berries. There is a feeling stirred up inside me by the motion and the patterns of the stitches – contentment. 

Inuktut

Atiga Jennifer Qupanuaq May, E8-2571, aglaqtunga makpiraaq.

Kisitchiun

Ativuut sangivailuktut

Uvagut taimannga kamagiliguvut

Inuit atkavuut kamagiyuatlu

Uvagut, Inuit, ilisimayuruut

Atikput qumnayuk sivulliit innaitlu

Ativuut tadjva naitut nukatpiraaluklu niviaqsiraqlu

Isumaliuqtuaq sivituyumik surraituq

Taamna pitqusiq sivituyumiktuaq

Pitqusiq taimaunga ilatkin

Isumatuyut sangiyuklu ilatkin

Munarilugu, tamaita piqpaqiapkin inuuyaq

Isuma taimaunga ilatkin kisiani

Malirutaksaq kisiani Inuit inuusiq

Maqaiqtuaq suuk

1941mi, atiqput allauyuat.

Asiin kiinaq ungavausigaa maqaiqtuatlu

Allauyuat atiq, taamna kisitchiunmik

Eskimo inuusiq Nalunaitkusigaa

Nikaittuq uqaqtuat?

Uqaqtunga atiq ilaksaqtuat takunaqtut

Maqaigaa qimmiq tukuyuat

Nangititchiyuat ilisakvik

Uvagut nutaraat aittugaa

Pingasukipiaq maqaigaa

Irniqput paniklu

Iglum iluani nakuyuamiq

Angiyumiq annaigaa

Sivulliqmi attai maqaigaa

Qangma nutaraq

Qanuq inuusiq?! Uqaqtugut

Tapqua governmentmi patchintuat

Uumayuaqtugut

Ikayuqtuaqtugut

English

My name is Jennifer Qupanuaq May, E8-2571, and this is my poem.

The Number

Our names are powerful beyond measure

A part of us that we continue to treasure

Inuit names foster respect and closeness

We, Inuit, have always known this

Named after our ancestors and elders

Our names were not based on genders

To ensure a long and healthy lifestyle

This custom has been around for awhile

A custom passed down from generation to generation

To ensure a strong foundation

By cherishing our loved one’s legacy

Their spirit was passed down to become our identity

This tradition was the Inuit way

We never imagined it would be taken away

In 1941, our names were replaced.

While our faces displaced

Not by different names, but by a number

Eskimo identification Tags

Good intentions they say?

I say name exemptions on display

We also experienced

Residential schools

And our children put out as offers

The sixties scoop

Our sons and our daughters

Put in homes that were seen as better

Imagine how much this upset her

First her name taken

And now her children

How is this humane?! We exclaim

To a government who chooses to blame

We coped

And hoped

But yet still saw our rights revoked

We never fought

We only sought

For justice that was never brought

Instead of a face to a name

We now had a number that we became

Inuit names, but never numbers, fostered respect and closeness

We, Inuit, have always known this.

Inuktut

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun.

Tapqua kunuuyat sanayuat anaanangma Ella Nasogaluak Brown. Ella amamangma amung, anniviklu inuuyuat Tuktuuyaqtuuqmi. Ilakka Susie Ruben Nasogaluak Joe Nasogaluaklu Sr. Amamma ilisautdjiyaa miquqmiq. Ellam kunuuyat, savaktii asinnajaq takuyaa, uqaqtuaq mumiqtuut. Anaanangma amma uyuktuaq isumayunga kamagiyuaq asiin miquqa savaat.

Kunuuyat atuaksaqtaariyaa uvangamun WAG piliunaitut, uvanga qaita aimunmi. Uqaqtunga nutaraat ilisakvikmi Inuvialuit inuuyaq, amaamangma qaita kunuuyat asiin atugaa ilisautdjyaa nutakatmun. Kunuuyat ilisaqtuyuut tapqua malirutaksaq ilisimayuaq ilakkamun nutakatmunlu, nakuuyuq taamna ilisautdjiyaa surautat qangma inugiaktut tutqaanaittut. Anaanangma amaama miquqtuak kunuuyat, maniklu tapqua tan’ngit itiriaqtuqtiit Tuktuuyaqtuuqmi. Kunuuyat tadjvangatchiaqtuaq miquqtauak tan’ngitmun taamna savaaklu, suratuat savaak. Takunaqtuq miquqtuaq kunuuyat, nakuuyuq kamagilu – piqpagiyaa tamaita kiluk.

English

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun. 

These dolls were made by my nanuk Ella Nasogaluak Brown. Ella is my mom’s mom, and she was born and raised in Tuktoyaktuk. Her parents were Susie Ruben Nasogaluak and Joe Nasogaluak Sr. She was taught how to sew by her mother. Ella’s dolls, as co-curator asinnajaq noticed, are very dancey. My nanuk’s mom was a beautiful drum dancer and I feel like this must have influenced her and made its way into her art. 

These dolls weren’t in the WAG’s collection, I brought them from home. I once spoke to a class of elementary school children about Inuvialuit culture, and my mom gave me these dolls to be used as a teaching tool. These dolls can provide valuable insight into how traditional skills were passed down from parents to young, and it’s great how these teaching tools can exist for a multitude of purposes. My nanuk’s mom made dolls as well, as a way to make money from settlers visiting Tuktoyaktuk. These dolls are a great example of how an object originally made for a more commercial purpose exists both as a sculpture, and textile based art. The amount of detail put into these dolls, especially at their scale, is incredible and very touching – I feel like you can see the care she put into each and every stitch. 

Inuktut

Atelihai, una Asinnajaq, iligenguKataujuk Ukâlattiujuit iligenginnut. Inukjuangumiunguvunga Nunavimmi ammalu iniKaluasimavunga Tiohtià:ke-imi Kaujimajaummijuk imâk Montreal, Quebec. 

Atautsik takuminattuk ilutsitâtitsisimajuk Inunnik ammalu Inuit ilikkusinginnik, ukuanguvut sanautet sivullivinivut sivullimi sanalautsimajangit ammalu atuKattasimajangit ullu tamât ulluk nânninganut. IsumakKutujovugut ammalu atugumaKattavugut nukkitinnik atuniKatsiatumik Kangatuinnak pigiaKaligutta. Tamannauluavuk Inuit atuKattagajattut sunatuinnanik ikajuniattunut. Atulluni ikittunik atuttausonik ammalu isumagijanginnik, Allen sakKititsijuk nutâmik takutsaujumik nunatsuanut Nunatsiavummi. KaujimattitaulaukKunga atjiliugigiamut nunanik atuttausongutillugu ullumiulittumut Kulaugajattunut. Ilinniasimavunga atugiamut tâpsuminga Kaujisagiamut ammalu sakKititsigiamut atjinguanik angijualummut inimmik nunatsuamik taikkutigona suliagijauKattajumut Allen-imut.  

Tâkkutigona piusimit tigusilluni atjinguanik, asianottisilluni ammalu tautselugu katitsutaumajunik pijagettausimajumut Kagitaujammut ilillugit minguattaungângumagajattut nânningani. Ammalu tigusilluni tamânneluasiajunik mânnaluatsiak, sulijunik piKutinik ammalu iniujunut, sunatuinnauliaKisok ammalu iniutluni kinaup isumanga pinguavigisongujanganik.   

English

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

One of the beautiful things that shaped Inuit and Inuit culture, are the tools that our ancestors invented and used day in and day out. We are ingenuitive, and want to use our precious energy as effectively as possible where needed. This is a reason that Inuit are very willing to adopt technologies that can be of service. Using a few useful gadgets and his wits, Allen brings a new perspective to the landscapes of Nunatsiavut. I was first made aware of photogrammetry as a tool to bring objects into the VR realm. I only learned that this tool could be used to survey and create an image of a large area of the landscape through the work of Allen. 

Through the process of capturing the image, transferring and altering of data the final result of these digital photos becomes quite painterly in the end product. And in the way the capturing of a very real moment in time, very real objects and places, they become an abstraction and a space where one’s imagination can play.  

Inuktut

ᓂᑰᓪ ᓘᒃᖑᕗᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒃᑲ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒐᖅᓯᒻᒦᖓᕐᓂᑰᕗᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ.

ᑖᒥ ᓄᕙᕿᒃ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐋᖅᑎᐅᕙᒃᑐᓂᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔭᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑑᒥ. ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ 1911-ᒥ, ᐱᕈᔅᓴᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᓅᓯᒪᒐᔪᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᓯᒪᕙᓪᓗᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᐊᖅᐸᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᖅᐱᓕᓐᓂᒃ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑐᑉ ᖃᖏᑦᑐᖓᓂ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐃᒪᓂᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᑎᑭᐅᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᑕᐅᕗᖓ ᐃᒪᐅᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒥ ᐃᒪᕕᒻᒧᑦ. ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᕐᕕᒃ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑐᒻᒥ ᒪᑐᐃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ 1973-ᒥ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᐊᑑᑎᓕᓚᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᓄᕙᕿᒃ ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᓕᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᓂᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᒃ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᕝᕕᒋᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔭᓪᓗᓂ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᖅ, “ᑕᑯᓐᓈᓪᓗᒍ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᖅ,” ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᖃᑦᓯᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐃᒫᖑᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᖃᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑐᑉ, ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᑖᐅᓗᑎᒃ ᓇᔪᒐᒻᒥᐅᑕᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᖏᑦ. ᐱᑕᖃᕐᒪᑦ ᕿᔪᒻᒥᒃ ᖃᓇᖃᐅᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᐅᕋᑉ−ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓱᑎᑐᑦ ᐃᓪᓗᑕᖃᐅᓪᓗᓂ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑐᔅᓯᐊᕐᕕᒃ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᖃᓯᐅᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᐱᐅᑰᔨᔪᑦ ᐱᖁᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ. ᐅᔾᔨᕆᓗᒋᑦ ᐅᐋᔭᖃᐅᑎᖃᒃᕕᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᕿᔪᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᓇᖃᐅᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᖃᒃᑎᑦᑎᕕᐅᔪᓂ. ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᐅᕐᕈᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒍᑎᖃᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᓕᒃ ᐊᒃᓱᐋᓗᒃ ᓯᓚᕈᔫᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᑦᑐᒻᒥ, ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒍᑕᒍᓐᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᕆᐊᓕᒃ ᓄᓇᐅᑉ ᖁᐊᖑᓂᖓᑕ ᐱᐅᒍᓐᓃᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᑕᑯᒐᔭᒻᒥᔭᑎᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᖃᔭᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ, ᐊᖏᔪᐋᓗᓗᑎᒃ, ᓄᑖᖑᓂᔅᓴᐃᑦ ᐅᒥᐊᑦ ᐃᑲᓗᒐᓲᒍᑕᐅᑐᓐᓇᕆᐊᓕᑦ ᐃᒪᕐᒥ. ᖄᖓᓂ ᖃᖅᑲᕋᓛᑉ, ᖁᓛᓂᑦ ᑕᑯᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᓕᒃ, ᖃᓕᕇᖑᒻᒪᑕ ᐅᔭᕋᐃᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐃᓄᒃᓲᕙ ᑐᑭᓯᑎᑦᑎᒍᑏ, “ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᑦ ᑕᕝᕙᓃᒻᒪᑖ,” ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᑭᒡᒐᑦᑐᐃᒍᓐᓇᑉᐹ ᐊᓯᐋᓂᒃ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓄᓇᐅᓂᖓᓐᓃ? ᑕᑯᓐᓈᓪᓗᒍ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᒥ ᑐᑭᖃᒃᐹ ᐱᓕᐋᖑᓂᖓᓃᒃ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᑕᐅᓂᖓᑖ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒦ ᓄᓇᓕᒻᒦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᐱᕆᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑖ “ᖃᓄᐃᓕᕙᓪᓕᐋᓂᐊᒻᒪᖔᑖ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ?” ᐃᓪᓗᓕᐅᓐᓂᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒻᒥ ᐱᔭᐅᓲᖑᒻᒪᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᓇᓱᐊᕆᐊᖃᓐᓂᒻᒥᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᐅᓴᖏᓐᓃᑦᑐᓂ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᑦᑎᐊᕋᓱᐊᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓇᐆᒃᑰᓱᖑᒻᒪᑕ ᐃᓅᓯᒻᒥᓐᓂ ᐃᓅᒍᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒫᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒋᓗᒍ ᓄᓇ.

English

I’m Nicole Luke and my family is Chesterfield Inlet, Nunavut.

Tommy Nuvaqirq was one of the many artists who worked in Pangnirtung. Born in 1911, he grew up closely tied to the land, and hunting whales in the Cumberland Sound. This is the body of water which connects Pangnirtung to the open Arctic Ocean. The printshop in Pangnirtung only opened in 1973, which led to Nuvaqirq representing a variety of stages in his life, and community within his print work. This piece, “In View of the Future,” represents a few structures, possibly within Pangnirtung, with a contrast of dwelling types. There are wood framed Euro-Canadian style houses, one of them being a church, along with tent-like traditional structures. Notice the powerlines in the wood framed housing area. One of them has fallen over, this could be due to the extreme weather patterns of the arctic, or it could be a tell-tale sign of permafrost degradation. You can also see qajaqs placed on the land, with a larger,newer boat possibly fishing in the water. On the top of the hill, overlooking the community, are stacked rocks. Is this an Inukshuk saying, “people are here,” or could it represent something else beyond this landscape? In View of the Future signifies the stages of development within a small arctic community, but also asks us “what lies ahead for these arctic communities?” Construction in the arctic comes with very unique challenges, but Inuit for thousands of years have been strategically maneuvering their way of life to live on and with the land.

Inuktut

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun.

Darciem piksaq itqaqtuami kamagilu: inuusivut, ingilraan, itiriaqtuqti, isumalu, tadvja. Naimayuaq taamna iksivavik.

Auyami 2018, aulayuami Inuvikmun Tuktuuyaqtuuqmunlu sivulliqmi inuinnaqmi. Aulaktunga savaakmilu. Qanuq isumayuami kamagiyunga – niqiyuami Inuit putuligaat, pisuktungalu itqaqtuaqmilu taamna nuna, kikturiat kiiyuat, uqaqtugut ilanaatlu takunaitat ingilraanimun. Saanganimun aulayuami, isumayuami itiriaqtuqtunga, asulu kamagiyuami. Takuyaga angakma savaak, aksaligmiq takuyaga Tuktuuyaqtuuq nuna kamagi ilatkamun. Takuyaga iluviqsivik amaukłuk, takuyagalu angaatdjuvik anaanama katitiqtuat. Takuyaga ililsakvik amamanga ilisaktuat, siniktunga atchangma igluum. Taamna piksaq itqautipkaqsagaa. Qaisuktunga takunaqtugunga taamna piksaq.

English

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun. 

Darcie’s paintings for me stir up many feelings and connotations : time spent, time passing, visiting, and nostalgia, being a few. I feel like I can smell this living room. 

In summer of 2018, I went to Inuvik and Tuktoyaktuk for the first time in about 20 years. I was able to go because of an artist residency. This was a very emotional experience for me – I ate a lot of Inuit donuts, walked around a lot refamiliarizing myself with the place, got chewed up by mosquitos, and I was able to spend time with relatives I hadn’t seen in many years. During my time up north, I felt a strange mixture of being a guest, and experiencing a sense of belonging. My great- uncle showed me around his carving studio, drove me around tuk and showed me landmarks important to our family. I saw the graveyard where my great grandparents are buried, I saw the church where my nanuk was married. I saw the school where my mom teaches and I stayed at my great-aunt’s for the night. This painting brings up all those thoughts. I can’t look at it for too long without wanting to cry. 

Inuktut

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕗᐊᑦᓯᑭᐅᕗᖓ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐆᒥᖓ ᐃᓄᐊ.

ᒦᒐᓐ ᖃᔮᖅ-ᒫᓐᑏᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖓᒍᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᕙᒃᑐᖅ, ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᖓᒍᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑭᓐᓇᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᓅᙱᑦᑐᓄᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᕐᓂᖅ ᐱᑕᖃᐅᕐᓂᕐᓴᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᒦᒐᓐ ᐃᓂᓕᐅᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᕈᓯᖓᓂᒃ. ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᕆᕙᒃᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᒦᒐᓐ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᕐᒥ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᒥ ᖃᑯᖅᑕᒦᖢᓂ ᓯᓚᒻᒧ ᐃᑦᑐᐊᖅᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᒪᐅᖓ ᖃᓄᐃᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ. ᓴᓂᖅᑯᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓄᑦ, ᐅᔾᔨᕈᓱᓗᐊᕐᓇᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᒦᒐᓐ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᖏᑦ ᓴᙱᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖁᔭᐅᓚᐅᙱᒻᒪᑕ ᐊᕐᕕᖕᓂᒃ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑕᐅᓵᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᔪᑦ. ᑕᐅᑐᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔪᑦ ᑲᑐᔾᔨᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᑕᕝᕙᓂ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᒐᕐᒥ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖃᕐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓚᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ.

ᑕᕝᕙᓂ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᒐᒃᓴᒥᑦ ᒪᕐᕉᖕᓂ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᒦᒐᓐ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᕐᒥᒃ, ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᑐᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖓᓂᒃ: ᓂᕿᖃᖃᑎᒌᖕᓂᖅ. ᐊᖑᓇᓱᖕᓂᖅ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᖕᒥ ᐊᕐᕕᒃᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒪᒃᑕᖓᓂ ᓂᕆᓂᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᐅᕗᖅ. ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑑᑎᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᓂᕿᓂᒃ ᐱᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᕙᖕᓂᕐᒥᒃ, ᓄᓇᓕᓕᒫᑦ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐃᓚᒌᓕᒫᓂᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᑉᓂᖃᕐᓇᖅᐳᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᑦᑐᒃᓴᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐅᓄᕐᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ. ᒪᒃᑕᐃᑦ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎ ᑕᒧᐊᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᕐᓯᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᖕᓇᒻᒪᕆᒃᑐᖅ, ᐱᓗᐊᕐᑐᒥ ᐊᒡᒐᑯᓗᐃᑦ ᑎᒍᓯᒋᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᒧᐊᓂᐊᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᓲᕐᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᒃᑲ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑕᒃᑯ ᓂᕿᑐᖅᑐᑦ.

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

A lot of Megan Kyak-Monteith’s work captures her own life, cataloging her memories through art. In a space that is dominated by non-Inuit art, Megan is making space for contemporary Inuit art. Bringing forward a contemporary flip of Inuit lives and Inuit art, Megan is helping pave the way to bring the  gaze outside of the colonial white cube and into the what it means to be Inuk today. For the passers-by, you may not realize the power of imagery in Megan’s work. Up until relatively recently, Inuit were not allowed to hunt arviq, the bowhead whale. Seeing the community working together to harvest the arviq in the film is a visual statement of the power of Inuit sense of belonging and community.

In the films Megan shows two aspects of the same, important and fundamentally Inuk thing to do: sharing food. The harvest of the massive whale and the sharing of bite-size pieces of maktak is one and the same. The different scale of food sharing, the whole community and the whole family, resonates with me particularly, as it most likely does for many Inuit. The preparing of the maktak by cutting it into small cubes so that it is edible is palpable, especially when you see the little hands grab the cut pieces. It is as though I am watching my own family meal.

Inuktut

ᐁ, ᐊᓰᓐᓇᔮᖑᕗᖓ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᑦᑐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓄᑦᔪᐊᒥᐅᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ ᑎᐆᑎᐊ:ᑮᒥ ᒪᓐᑐᔨᐊᖑᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᕙᒻᒥᔪᒥ ᑯᐯᒃᒥ ᓄᓇᓯᒪᓂᕐᓴᐅᓱᖓᔪᖓ.

ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐱᒫᕋᑦᓴᔭᐅᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐅᕗᑦ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᓇᓱᑦᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᒋᐅᕈᑎᒋᓯᒪᕐᖂᐸᒃᑲ ᓯᓛᕐᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ ᑮᓇᓕᐅᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᖑᐊᓕᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ. ᐅᕕᓂᖕᖑᐊᖓ ᑲᔪᖅ ᐊᑦᑐᓱᒍ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓂᕈᒥᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᖑᐊᒥᒃ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᒃᑫᔪᖅ. ᐅᕕᓂᖕᖑᐊᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᐊᓄᕐᓯᐅᑐᕕᓂᖕᖑᐊᖑᒋᐊᖓ. ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓰᑦ ᓄᑦᑎᓂᐅᓯᒪᔪᒥᒃ ᑕᓕᑐᓂᓕᐅᑉ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᐊᑑᑎᓯᒪᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᑦᑐᐊᔨᒋᑦᓯᐊᒪᐅᒃ ᐅᑎᕐᑕᕕᒋᒍᓱᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᔪᕙᖓᓗ ᐃᓄᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᕐᓴᐅᓕᕐᓱᓂ. ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥ ᐊᕐᖁᓵᕐᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᑕ ᐊᑦᑐᓚᕆᓲᕆᒻᒫᑎᒍᑦ.

ᐃᓚᒃᑲᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᓱᖓ, ᖁᕕᐊᓱᖃᑎᖃᕐᐳᖓ ᐅᒥᐊᒃᑯᑦ ᓯᓚᒥ ᓂᕆᔭᕐᑐᖃᑎᖃᕆᐊᒥᒃ. ᑌᒃᑯᓇᓂ ᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᓗᐊᓕᕆᒋᐊᕐᑐᒋᒥᒃ, ᑎᒻᒥᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᐅᔮᕆᒥᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓐᓃᑦ ᐳᐃᔨᓐᓂᐊᕆᐊᒥᒃ, ᐃᒻᒪᖄᓗ ᐃᓚᖓᓂᒃ ᒥᕐᖁᓕᑦᑕᕆᐊᕆᐊᒥᒃ ᕿᒻᒥᓂᓪᓗ ᓂᕆᒃᑫᒋᐊᕐᑐᕆᐊᒥᒃ ᕿᑭᕐᑕᓃᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᐅᔭᒥ, ᕿᑭᕐᑕᒥ ᐸᖓᓕᑭᑕᕝᕕᒋᒍᓐᓇᑕᒥᓐᓂ, ᖃᑦᑕᓂᓪᓗ ᐃᕐᕋᕕᕕᓂᕐᑕᓕᓐᓂᒃ ᕿᒻᒥᓄᑦ ᓂᕆᒃᑲᐅᑎᖃᕆᐊᕐᑐᕆᐊᒥᒃ ᐊᓂᕐᕋᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓕᕐᓱᑕ. ᓄᑦᑎᓂᖃᕐᓂᖅ ᐱᓇᓱᓕᕋᒃᑯ ᐃᕐᖃᐅᒪᓱᖑᕗᖓ ᐅᒥᐊᒥ ᐅᓯᑦᑑᑎᐅᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᒐᑦᑕ ᓄᐊᑯᓗᒃᑲᓗ ᐃᓚᒃᑲᓗ. ᓂᕆᓇᓱᑦᓱᑕ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᐅᔮᕐᓱᑕᓗ ᐃᒪᐅᓪᓗ ᓯᑦᔭᐅᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᑦᓴᖁᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ.

English

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

This is a completely legendary piece of artwork. I think that this work is one of the first carvings that I saw in person with tanned skin used in it. The brown of the skin brings a warm texture to the carving that brings a spark of life to the work. And the skin can hold a shape making it feel like maybe wind is being blown into it. The story of the migration is one very personal to Talitunili’s life experiences, and he visited this topic constantly in the later years of his lifetime. Some things really leave a mark on you. 

With my family, we love going out on our boat for a picnic. A day where we check the nets, look at birds and chase a seal, maybe get some urchins and feed the dogs on their summer island where they run free, getting buckets of the guts from our days catch on our way home. This Migration work reminds me of being stuffed in the boat with my nieces and family. Snacking and observing what the water and shores have to show us. 

Inuktut

ᐊᐃᖓᐃ, ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕘᓪᒎᔪᖓ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. ᑐᓗᒐᐃᑦ ᐱᙳᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᕕᒌᑦ? ᑕᐅᑐᓐᓂᑰᒍᕕᑦ ᐅᑉᐱᓇᖅᑯᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᑯᐊᕕᑦ (ᑎᒻᒥᐊᖑᔪᑦ ᑐᓗᒐᐃᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ), ᓯᓚᑐᓂᖅᐹᖑᖃᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᑦ. ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒻᒥᔪᑎᑦ ᐸᕝᕕᓴᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ. ᑕᕝᕙᓂ, ᓂᖏᐅᑯᓗ ᑏᕕ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᔪᖅ ᑐᓗᒐᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᓂ ᑭᒻᒥᑯᑖᓕᒻᒥ ᐃᓯᒐᐅᔭᕐᒥᑦ, ᓇᖏᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᐅᐸᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᑭᓐᓇᖃᖅᑐᒥ. ᑕᐅᑐᐃᙳᐊᕐᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᙳᐊᕐᓇᖅᓱᓂ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᔪᖅ ᓱᕈᓯᕐᒥᑦ ᐱᙳᐊᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᓈᓇᖓᑕ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒃᑯᕕᖓᓂ, ᐊᑐᖅᓱᓂ ᐊᖏᒋᓗᐊᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᑭᒻᒥᑯᑖᓐᓂ ᐃᓯᒐᐅᔮᓐᓂᒃ. 

ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᖅ, ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᓱᓂ ᑐᓗᒐᐅᑉ ᓂᐅᖓᓂ ᑕᐅᑐᙳᐊᓕᖅᑕᕋ ᑐᓗᒐᖅ ᓈᑦᑐᐊᓘᓪᓗᓂ, ᐃᓴᕈᖏᑦ ᐃᓯᕕᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐅᕐᕈᔾᔭᐃᖅᓱᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᓐᓈᑦ ᖃᑯᖅᑕᒥ ᐅᔭᒥᒥ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓴᐸᖓᓕᒻᒥᒃ ᐅᔭᒥᒥ, ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᑕᖃᓯᐅᑎᔪᑦ. ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᔪᙱᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᖅᓯᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᒍᓐᓇᖅᓱᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᖅᓱᓂᒋᑦ ᐃᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ. 

ᑐᓗᒐᐃᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᖃᑦᑕᖏᑉᐸᑕ ᐊᓄᕆᒧᓪᓗ ᑎᑦᑕᐅᕈᓘᔭᖃᑦᑕᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᑕᐸᓱᑦᑐᑎᓗ ᕿᒻᒥᓂᑦ ᐱᑐᑦᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ, ᐱᙳᐊᕆᐊᖅᑐᕋᔭᖅᑳ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒃᑯᕕᑦᑎᓐᓂ? ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᑏᕕ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑭᐅᓯᒪᒻᒪᖔᖅ, ᖁᕕᐊᓱᑉᐳᒍᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᒍᓐᓇᓚᐅᕐᖓᒍᑦ. ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᕐᓗᑕ, ᐃᓄᒋᐊᓗᐊᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᐅᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒻᒪᑦ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑏᑦ ᓂᖏᐅᑯᓗ ᑏᕕᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᕗᑦ ᓴᖅᑮᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐅᑐᑦᑕᒥᒍᑦ, ᐊᒥᓱᕐᔪᐊᕌᓗᐃᑦ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᔭᐅᒍᓐᓇᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᓂᒃᑯᑦ, ᑏᕕ ᓴᖅᑮᕗᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᑦ ᑲᓲᒪᑎᑦᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᓄᑦ, ᓴᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ. 

English

Hi, I’m Napatsi Folger, from Iqaluit, Nunavut. Have you ever watched ravens play? If you have then it’s easy to believe that Corvids (the family of birds that ravens belong to), are some of the most intelligent birds on the planet. You also know that their reputation for mischief is definitely well-earned. In this print, Ningiukulu Teevee shows a raven donning a high-heeled shoe, standing out stark against a bright red background. The imagery is vivid and playful and calls to mind a young child at play in their mother’s closet, teetering dangerously in her too-big high-heels. 

The image is fun and delightful, and though she only depicts the leg of the bird I can’t help but finish the scene in my head of a raven tripping clumsily, with wings out to balance while wearing an overlarge set of pearls or beaded necklace, to complete the outfit. The artist has an acute ability to take ordinary scenes of everyday northern life and combine them with refreshingly hilarious Inuit humour in so much of her work. 

If ravens weren’t relegated to gliding and falling on pockets of wind and teasing chained up dogs, would they come and play in our closets? We know what Teevee thinks the answer is, and we are so glad she shared it with us. Globally speaking, few people can speak and understand Inuktitut. As such, artists like Ningiukulu Teevee are essential for conveying Inuit ideas and perspective, when so much can be lost in translation, Teevee creates images that transverse the bridge between cultures, with light-hearted creativity.  

Inuktut

ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕗᐊᑦᓯᑭᐅᕗᖓ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᔨᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐆᒥᖓ ᐃᓄᐊ.

ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒌᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᒃ ᐅᐸᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᒫᑕᒥ ᑲᒪᒋᔭᖃᕈᒪᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖓᓂᒃ ᐆᒧᖓ ᐃᓄᐊ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓚᐅᕋᑦᑕ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖓ ᐱᐅᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᐊᕐᑐᖅ. ᐊᐱᕆᓚᐅᕋᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᐅᖁᓪᓗᑎᒍᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᕈᓯᖃᕐᓂᐊᕆᐊᒃᓴᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐆᒧᖓ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᑦᑎᓐᓄ, ᓯᕗᒧᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᑦᑎᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕆᓗᒍ ᒪᐅᓇ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓇᕐᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐊᑎᒍᑦ. ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓪᓗ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᐅᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ, ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄ ᖃᐃᒃᑲᓐᓂᓕᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓇᒃᓴᖅᖢᓂ ᑕᐃᔭᖓᓂ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕗᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐆᒪ ᐃᓄᐊ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓇᐅᒃᑯᕈᓘᔭᖅ.

ᐊᒪᐅᑎ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕐᓯᒍᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐅᓂᖓ, ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖅ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᕿᑐᕐᖓᑦᑎᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒫᕈᑎᐅᕙᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓴᐳᑎᓯᒪᒍᑎᒋᓪᓗᑎᒍᑦ. ᐅᓇ ᐊᒪᐅᑎ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᒐᓚᒃᑐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑭᖑᕚᕇᖕᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᐊᓈᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒫᖃᑦᑕᕐᑐᖅ ᕿᑐᕐᖓᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᖏᓐᓂᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᖓᓄᑦ. ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᒫᕈᓐᓇᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᓄᑲᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᒫᕐᑐᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᖓᓂᒃ. ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᒥ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᕐᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᔾᔪᓯᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖃᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ.

ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐱᕈᕐᓯᐊᙳᐊᖅ ᕿᓯᖕᒥ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᒋᕗᑦ ᐃᑳᕐᓂᕐᒥ ᐊᓯᐊᓄᑦ, ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᕿᓰᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᕈᓘᔭᕐᑐᒃᑯᑦ. ᒪᑯᓇᙵᑦ ᓂᕿᓂᒃ ᓇᑦᑎᕐᓂᙶᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖃᖅᐸᒃᖢᑕ ᕿᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑐᐊᒃᑯᑦ ᓇᑦᑏᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐊᑦᑐᐃᒍᑎᒋᕙᕗᑦ ᐃᑳᕈᑎᒋᓯᒪᓂᕐᒥ ᐊᒻᒪ ᓄᓇᓄᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᒃᑯᑎᒃᑰᕐᓯᒪᓂᕐᒥᒃ.

ᐊᒪᐅᑎ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᕐᓂᖓ ᓇᓗᓇᙱᔾᔪᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᕗᑦ ᓱᓕ ᑕᕝᕙᐅᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᒻᒪᕆᖕᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᑭᓱᖃᐅᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪ ᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᕐᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᓕᕌᖓᑦ ᑭᓱᖃᕋᓱᒋᔭᐅᙱᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂ. ᐆᒪᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᕐᑐᖅ, ᑕᕐᓴᖃᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑐᓂ ᑐᑭᖃᕆᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂ. ᒫᑕᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖓ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕗᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᑐᒐᒃᓴᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᒃᑯᑦ.

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

When the curatorial team first approached Maata about commissioning a piece for INUA, we knew her work would be breath taking. We asked her to envision our theme, moving forward together as Inuit, and to translate that into wearable art. Given full autonomy to create a piece of art, she came back to us with a piece she calls Our Flourishing Culture, and I feel it encapsulates elements of INUA in many ways.

The amauti itself is an iconic and ingenious Inuit design, a garment we wear to carry and protect our children. The amauti represents Inuit relations, as well as belonging to multi generations. A mother might carry her children or her grandchildren in her amauti. A person might carry her siblings or young friends in her amauti. Whoever wears an Amauti is connected to our ways of living in an important and intimate way.

The intricate detail of the sealskin flowers adds another element of crossing borders, where the sealskin represents Inuit livelihoods in many ways. From the food seals bring to us or the clothing we wear from their skins, and the role seals have in our stories, the seal connects us across seas and borders.

The amauti makes a strong visual statement that our Inuit culture is vibrant and strong. Our homeland is not as bleak and bare as one might assume when they think of the arctic. It is actually full of life, full of colour and full of meaning for those who live there. Maata’s Our Flourishing Culture shows us that in her wearable art.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Hello, my name is Emily Laurent Henderson and I am an Inuk writer based in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. My family comes from Greenland, close to where poet and artist Jessie Kleemann hails from.

The first thing I notice about Jessie Kleemann’s Arkhticós is dreaming is the smell of it, as though her words have been transformed into a slow fungal and algae growth low to the ground or gathered around the shorelines. Cycling between growth and decay, and the growth that springs from decay, Kleemann paints a vivid, earthy picture of her homeland, Kalaallit Nunanat, better known as Greenland. Even to a reader that does not understand Kalaallisut, it is easy to read the verses at the pace one might breathe in the cold, salty air she so vividly invokes. You could almost walk with her as she takes you on a timeless journey through cold, moss, and seawater, shielding our eyes from snowblindness as we listen in for the song of a whale far off in the distance. 

The poem is tied to Kleemann’s 2019 performance Arkhticós doloros, which was performed on the Greenland ice sheet. Using her body to engage with the ice and air that surrounded her, Kleemann comments on the political role played by ice at a moment shaped by unprecedented ice melt. In this gallery space, the poem has been suspended from the wall at an astonishing height of three storeys. Look upwards – what can you make out at the very top of the wall hanging? What can you see? In this cavern of the gallery space, Kleemann’s work almost asks us all to gaze as far as we can see, as though we ourselves were situated on the ice sheet with her, looking as far into the sky and the horizon as we could. 

Inuktut

ᐊᑎᕋ ᔨᓕᓐ, ᓂᓐ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᙱᑉᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᑕᕆᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᐊᒑᖕᑯᐃᓐ ᓄᓇᓕᒐ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᑐᕙ ᐋᓐᑎᐅᕆᔪ.

ᖃᓄᖅ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᐸ ᐃᓅᓗᓂ? ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓅᓗᓂ ᐊᓯᙳᖅᓯᒪᕙ ᑕᐃᒪᖓᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᔪᕐᕕᒻᒥ? ᑭᐊ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᕙᐅᒃ? ᑭᓇ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᓐᓇᙱᓚᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ? 

ᑕᑯᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓ, ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ, ᐊᑲᐅᓈᕈᓐᓇᕐᓗᓂ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᑲᐅᓈᖅᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔪᒪᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᒥᒃ − ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓐᓂᕆᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ.

ᑕᕐᕆᔭᐅᑎᒃᑯᑦ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓ ᐊᒥᖃᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᓇᓄᖅ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔪᖅ ᐃᓕᑕᕐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᓄᓇ. ᑎᖒᔭᖅ, ᐊᐳᑎ, ᐅᔭᕋᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔮᖅᑐᖅ − ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᑦ. ᓇᓄᖅ ᐱᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᒥ ᕿᓂᖅᑑᔮᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᓇᒥᑭᐊᖅ, ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᑉᑯᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓ ᓄᓇᓕᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᔭᖅ. ᓇᓄᖅ ᐅᔾᔨᕈᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᓇᒦᓐᓂᖓᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐳᖃᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ, ᐊᖏᓂᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᓚᖏᑦ.

ᓇᓄᖅ ᐃᖏᕐᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᑐᓵᔪᒍᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓂᐱᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᖁᕈᑎᒃᓴᖃᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᐱᖅᓲᑎᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒌᒃᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᐃᖢᐊᖅᐹᓪᓕᖃᕐᓂᖓ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᒐᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒻᒥᓄᑦ−ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᐸᑦ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᕆᔭᕐᓄᑦ, ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᔭᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᓂᖓ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ.

ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ, ᓕᓐᓯ ᒪᒃᐃᑐᕆ, ᑎᒍᒥᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓂᒋᔭᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᓕᒫᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒃᑐᒧᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓇᓄᕐᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖅᑏᑦ. ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᖓ, ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᔭᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ, ᐅᓂᒃᑳᕆᔭᕗᑦ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᑐᑦ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓅᓗᑕ.

ᐅᑦᑑᑎᒋᓗᒍ, ᕿᕐᓂᐊᖅᑐᐊᓘᒃ ᐃᓄᒃ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᔪᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ, ᓅᓪᓗᖓ ᓄᓇᓕᐸᐅᔭᒧᑦ, ᒥᑭᑎᓪᓗᖓ. ᐅᖓᒋᔭᕋ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᓯᒪᐃᓐᓇᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᐱᖅᓲᑎᒋᕗᖓ ᐃᓅᒐᓗᐊᖅᐳᖓ ᓱᓖ? ᐊᒥᓲᓂᖅᓴᐃᑦ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᕿᕐᓂᖅᑐᐊᓘᓂᕆᔭᒻᓄᑦ, ᐊᐱᖅᓱᖅᖢᖓ ᓇᓕᐊᓐᓂᖅᓯᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᕗᖓ. ᖃᓄᖅ, ᐃᓄᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᕐᓂᖅᑑᓗᓂ ᐊᑐᕙᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖅ, ᐃᓅᓗᖓ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᓚᕆᒋᔭᒥᓂᑦ? ᑭᓯᐊᓂ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᔪᓰᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᑐᕚᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓂᒃᓴᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓗᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒌᓐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓄᑦ−ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓕᓐᓯᐅᑉ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᖓᒍᑦ ᑕᕐᕆᔭᒐᒃᓴᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐱᓕᐅᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ. 

English

My name is Jaelyn, I am originally from Nain Nunatsiavut and now living in unceded and unsurrendered Algonquin territory, also referred to as Ottawa Ontario.

What does it mean to be Inuk? How has being an Inuk changed over time and place? Who belongs? Who doesn’t and who gets to decide? 

The visual, for me, provides a sense of comfort but simultaneously represents a longing journey of some sort – a contradiction at which many Inuit find themselves.  

On the television, what appears to be a naked bear is travelling through a specific landscape. It has moss, snow, rocks and water and looks very similar to home — Inuit Nunangat.  As the bear walks across the landscape it seems to be seeking something, which I interpret as a sense of community or belonging. The bear finds itself in different settings, and even meeting up with other animals of different sizes, shapes and colour.   

While the bear embarks on this journey, we hear various Inuit voices in the scene or installation discussing some of these questions through conversation with one another. The calming video and dialogue allows for an intimate self-reflection when it comes to identity, belonging and connection to land.   

The artist, Lindsay McIntyre, holds a space for every Inuk who watches this to embark on this journey alongside the bear and the speakers. When it comes to identity, belonging and connection to land, our stories allow us to engage with these questions, but in such distinct and definitive ways that are unique to us as individuals as well.   

For instance, I am a Black Inuk woman, and while I have lived in my home community, I moved to the city when I was fairly young. The longer I was away, the more I would ask myself if I was even Inuk anymore? The more people pointed out my Blackness, the more I would question where I belonged. How could I, a mixed Inuk living in Ottawa, be Inuk away from my homelands? However, this is an on-going reality for so many Inuit youth, it’s important we hold space and conversation for these types of reflections as prompted by Lindsay’s use of animation and audio. 

Inuktut

ᐊᑎᕋ ᑎᕙᓂ ᓛᑐ. ᐃᓄᕕᐊᓘᔪᖓ ᐅᐊᓕᓂᕐᒥ. ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑖᕙᓂᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓᓗ ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕐᒥ. ᐃᓚᖃᖅᑐᖓ ᑐᒃᑑᔭᖅᑐᒥ. ᐋᑐᐋᒥᐅᑕᐅᓕᖅᑐᖓ. 

ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᑕᑯᕙᒋᑦ 

ᐳᐃᕗᑎᑦ ᑕᕆᐅᕐᒥᑦ ᒪᓕᓐᓂᒃ 

ᐊᓂᖅᓵᕆᐊᖅᑐᖅᑯᑎᑦ ᓂᓪᓕᓇᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ 

ᐅᕙᓐᓂᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᑕᑯᒻᒥᔪᑎᑦ

ᓯᑰᑉ ᖄᖓᓂ ᓇᖏᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ

ᐃᓕᓐᓂ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᖓ

ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒌᓂᑰᕗᒍᑦ

ᑲᓲᒪᖃᑎᒌᑦᑐᒍᑦ ᓄᓕᐊᔪᒃᑯᑦ 

ᐸᐅᕐᓗ ᓯᖅᑯᑎᓐᓃᑦᑐᑦ 

ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓂ ᐃᑲᔫᑎᖃᖅᐸᒃᑲᕕᑦ 

ᓂᕆᔭᑦᓴᐅᕗᑎᑦ ᐊᕿᐊᕈᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ

ᕿᓯᖁᑏᑦ ᐅᖅᑰᔾᔪᑎᕗᑦ

ᐅᖅᓱᐃᑦ ᖁᓪᓕᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ

ᓴᓇᔭᐅᕙᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᕝᕕ ᕿᓯᖓᓂ 

ᐱᐅᓂᖅᐹᖑᖃᑕᐅᔪᑦ 

ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᑐᓂᕙᑦᑕᓕᒫᓐᓄᑦ 

ᖃᓄᖅᑑᖅ ᐃᓕᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᑎᖅᑎᒐᑦᓴᖅᑖᓚᐅᕐᓚᖓ 

ᑭᓯᐊᓂ

ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᒋᑦ ᑕᑯᕙᒋᑦ

ᐃᓄᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᕙᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᖓ 

ᑲᒪᒋᔭᖃᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᕿᓯᓐᓂ, ᓂᕿᓐᓂ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖅᓱᕐᓂ

ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᑎᓪᓗᖓ

ᒫᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒃᑲᒪ

ᓂᐊᖁᕋᓛᖓ ᓇᑦᓯᖅ ᓇᑦᓯᖅ

ᐳᐃᒪᔪᖅ ᒪᓕᐅᑉ ᖄᖓᒍᑦ

ᑕᕆᐅᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔪᖅ

ᓄᓕᐊᔫᑉ ᐊᒡᒐᖏᑦ

ᐃᓚᒌᓐᓂᑰᔪᒍᑦ ᐅᐊᑦᓯᐊᕈᐊᓗᒃ 

English

Uvanga atira Tiffany Larter. Inuvialuuyunga Uallinirmin. Aniyuami inuruqlungalu Nunatchiami. Ilatka Tuktuuyaqtuumin qaimayut. Ottawami inuuniaqtunga. 

Natchiq natchiq I see you 

Peeking above the ocean waves 

Up for a breath of cold Arctic air 

You see me too

Standing upon the ice

Seeing you

We are kin from long ago

Connected through the sea goddess 

And the soot upon our knuckles 

Natchiq natchiq you provide us so  

Food for our bellies

Fur for our warmth

Fat for our qulliit

The works of art created from your fur 

are among the finest 

For all that you give us 

I wish I had something to give 

Yet

I meet you with respect

As I meet other beings 

As I tend to your fur, meat, and fat

As I speak and think of you

As I do now

His little head natchiq natchiq

Peaking above the waves

Wandering the ocean

Fingers of the sea goddess

Kin of long ago 

Inuktut

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun.

ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᖃᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᑰᓯᓐ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᒻᒪᕆᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᐆᑦᑑᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᐊᑑᑎᖏᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᓇᔭᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖓᓄᑦ ᑲᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑲᐅᓈᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑲᒪᒋᓲᖑᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕗᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᐅᑕᐅᓕᖅᑐᒧᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐅᐱᒋᑦᑎᐊᕐᓂᖅᐹᕋ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᖏᑎᒋᓂᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓄᑦ. ᐊᓯᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᑦᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐊᓕᐊᓚᐃᑦᑐᒻᒪᕇᑦ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᙱᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ, ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᐅᓪᓗᑕᒫᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ (ᐆᑦᑑᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᖃᒧᑎᒃ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓇᑦᑏᑦ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᓯᕙᕐᓂᖅ) ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖏᓂᖏᑕ ᐃᓅᓯᒧᑦ ᑕᑯᔅᓴᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓂᐊᕐᓃᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔪᓕᒫᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᑎᒋᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ. ᐊᓕᐊᓇᐃᓲᖃᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓗᒍ ᓇᑦᑎᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᖏᑎᒋᔭᖏᑎᒍᑦ ᓇᑦᑏᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᖃᔅᓯᐅᓇᔭᖅᐸᑦ ᓂᕿᖃᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖃᖅᑎᑕᐅᔪᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᐱᓐᓇᕐᓂᒻᒪᕆᐊᓄᑦ.

ᐊᑲᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᙳᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᒧᑦ ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒍ. ᐃᑉᐱᓐᓂᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᒡᒐᒃᑲ ᐊᑦᑐᐊᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᒥ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᕿᓐᓂᖓ ᖁᓛᑕ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒃ.

English

Uvanga Kablusiak, apungma atinga Arlin Carpenter, Ikahukmun, amamamunga atinga Holly Nasogaluak Carpenter, tuktuyaktumun.

I love a lot of things about Couzyn’s multidisciplinary practice, such as the way he blends unconventional materials and subject matter together, as well as how he carries our traditions into contemporary times, but the thing I appreciate most about his work is how he plays with scale. The way he transforms Inuk materials is so exciting. These unassuming, perhaps everyday materials to some Inuit (like sleds, or seals, or hunting tools) become emphasized, and their larger than life representation expresses to every viewer just how precious these objects are to Inuit. I also love imagining a seal of this size, and thinking of how many it would feed and clothe, and how revered it would be.

There is a really wonderful sense of both playfulness and tactility within this work especially. The urge to run my fingers through the rug fibres and stretch out on it’s plush surface is so enticing. 

Inuktut

ᐁ, ᐊᓰᓐᓇᔮᖑᕗᖓ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᑦᑐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓄᑦᔪᐊᒥᐅᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ ᑎᐆᑎᐊ:ᑮᒥ ᒪᓐᑐᔨᐊᖑᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᕙᒻᒥᔪᒥ ᑯᐯᒃᒥ ᓄᓇᓯᒪᓂᕐᓴᐅᓱᖓᔪᖓ.

1967-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᑏᑦ ᐊᓪᓚᖑᐊᕐᑏᓗ ᐳᕕᕐᓂᑐᒥᐅᑦ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐱᕕᑭᑦᑑᑎᑕᐅᒋᐊᒥᒃ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐊᖑᒪᔪᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᓴᖃᕐᕕᖓᓂ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐅᓲᑦ ᓱᓕ ᑌᒫᒃ ᐃᑉᐱᒋᔭᖃᖏᓐᓇᐳᑦ ᓂᕆᐅᕝᕕᐅᒋᐊᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᒣᑦᑐᒋᐊᖃᕐᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᒍᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᒪᓕᑦᓯᐊᕆᐊᖃᕆᐊᒥᒃ. ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᑉ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᒐᖏᑦ ᐅᖃᕋᑦᓴᓯᐊᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᓚᖓᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᑦᔪᑎᖃᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᓂᕆᐅᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᑑᑎᓱᖑᖕᖏᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᑑᑎᔭᐅᖁᔭᐅᖁᔨᔪᑦ ᐊᔪᐃᓐᓇᖏᓐᓇᕋᓗᐊᕐᑎᓗᒋᑦ. ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ 1967-ᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑫᓪᓚᑐᕐᑕᐅᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ ᐱᓕᐅᑎᑎᑕᐅᒍᑎᖃᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᕐᑎᓄᓪᓗ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐅᕐᑎᓄᓪᓗ ᐊᑑᑎᔭᐅᓕᕐᑐᒥᒃ. ᐊᐱᕐᓱᕈᑎᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᔭᕇᕐᓯᒪᓂᖅ? ᓴᓇᓚᐅᕆᑦ ᑕᑯᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᖕᖏᑕᑦᑎᓂᒃ, ᓴᓇᒍᒪᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓚᐅᕆᑦ. ᐄᓓ ᓴᓪᓗᐊᓗᒃ ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ ᐱᓕᐅᑎᒍᑎᓂᒃ ᓵᓚᖃᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑭᖑᒧᓪᓗ ᕿᕕᐊᑦᓵᕋᓂ.

ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᓇᓱᑦᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᕐᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᕙᑎᓖᑦ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓕᑕᕐᓇᑑᔮᕐᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᐅᔭᐅᒍᓇᐅᑦᓱᑎᓪᓗ, ᐊᑕᐅᑦᓯᑯᓪᓗ ᑕᒫᖕᖓᑦ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᑎᓐᓂ ᐱᓯᒪᒍᓇᐅᔮᕋᑎᒃ. ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓇᕐᑐᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᑕᕐᓂᖅ ᑎᑭᓕᕐᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᔭᕆᐊᖃᖏᓐᓇᓱᓂ, ᐊᑑᑎᒍᒪᑦᔭᖏᒃᑲᓗᐊᓗ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᑕ ᐱᖁᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ.

English

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

In 1967 some artists from Puvirnituq Nunavik felt restricted by the desires of the Inuit Art Market. Many Inuit artists still feel that there is an expectation for Inuit art to fill certain criteria of aesthetics. Qinuajua’s carvings are remarkable in part because of their rebellious nature amidst this ongoing struggle. Qinuajua was encouraged back in 1967 when a contest was put forth to shake up this feeling that artists were having. The ask of the competition? Make something that we haven’t seen before, make what you want to make. Eli Sallualu Qinuajua won this contest, and never looked back. 

This work has an exciting aura around it. It’s shapes feel familiar and earthly, and at the same time they feel like something from out of this world. It reminds me of a spirit arriving to the planet and has yet to, or doesn’t want to conform to the laws of this world. 

Inuktut

ᐊᐃᖓᐃ, ᐊᑎᕋ ᓂᒥ ᐃᓄᐊᕋᖅ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒃᑲ ᒥᑦᑎᒪᑕᓕᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓄᓇᓕᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᙱᑦᑐᒥ ᐊᕕᒃᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᓖᑦ ᒪᔅᑯᐃᒻ, ᔅᑯᐊᒥᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᔅᓖ−ᕙᑐ ᓄᓇᖓᑦ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᕚᓐᑯᕗ.

ᐅᑯᐊ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒑᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᕕᓕᐊᒻ ᓄᐊᒧᑦ. ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖅ, ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓ ᑐᒃᑐ ᓵᖓᔪᖅ, ᓱᐅᓃᓇᖅ. ᐱᖃᑖ, ᑐᑭᓯᓇᓗᐊᙱᑦᑐᖅ, ᕿᕕᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓄᑦ, ᕿᐸᓵᖅᑎᑎᑐᑦ. ᑕᒪᒃᑮᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐃᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑲᓯᐊᓂᒃ − ᐊᖓᒃᑯᖅ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖅ. ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖅ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᔾᔪᑎᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑎ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᓄᑦ. ᐅᑎᖅᑕᐅᔭᖅᑐᑦ, ᑲᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕐᔪᑎᓄᑦ, ᒪᖃᐃᑎ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑕᒐᖅ, ᑕᑯᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖅ.

ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᓯᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᖕᒧᑦ, ᐊᓂᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᒻᒥᑦ ᖁᓕᒃᑕᐅᑉ ᐊᑖᒍᑦ ᓴᐅᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ; ᐃᕙᓗᖏᑦ, ᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐆᒻᒪᑎ. ᑕᑭᔪᑦ ᓇᒡᔪᖏᑦ ᓄᐃᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᓂᐊᖁᐊᓂ ᓴᐅᓃᓐᓇᖅ, ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᑉᓗᓂ ᑐᒃᑐᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᒪᓂᖓᒍᑦ. ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖅ ᓄᐃᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᓗᒥᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᐊᓄᐊᖅᐸᑉᓕᐊᓄᓂ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᒥᑦ. ᓄᐊ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑎᒃᓴᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓗᓂ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᐊᒍᑦ, ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓗᓂ ᓯᓚᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᔪᖅ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᒋᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᖓᓂᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ.

English

Hi, my name is Leanne Inuarak-Dall, I’m an artist and my family is from Pond Inlet, NU. I currently live on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh Nations, also known as Vancouver.

Here we have two prints by William Noah. The first, a carefully rendered caribou in profile view, stripped down to the bone. The second, a more ambiguous figure, turns his head to face us, sporting a mischievous grin. Both of these prints share a common subject – a shaman, or spirit. A spirit is an intermediary between worlds. They alternate, connecting human and animal, the hunter and the hunted, what is seen and unseen.

The spirit transforms himself, frees himself from the flesh beneath his atigi to reveal bones and vertebrae; tendon, kidneys and heart. Long antlers sprout from his skull, taking on the appearance of the tuktu he seeks. The spirit reveals his interior and detaches from the tangible world. Noah offers us the opportunity to travel with this spirit, to travel across and move through layers of space and time.

Inuktut

Atelihai,  Jason Sikoak-nguvunga. Rigolettimiungutlunga, Nunatsiavut. 

Isumajâgillugu pulâgiagiattugiamut kinamikkiak akunialuk jârinik takulautsimalugunnaitanik, ammalu Kuviasutsiamagijut ilinnik takugiamut. Ilinnik ilonnanginnik Kaujigumajuk, apitsuluvinik, Kaujitsiagumajuk uKagunnangiumatlutillu allât, aukâgunnalunnak tetuttitaugiamut upvalu mamattunik. AjunnaKattalungituk aniggagiamut niugguluni, tâvatuak pigavit piunitsautigasuaKattajait. Tamanna uKâlaKatigennik isumajâgutigiKattajakka takunnâligama Michael Massie-iup sanasimajangani. 

Annak – jârikkutunitsak – Labradoriup uKausinganik uKâlajuk

“Ilâ, kinallikiak?”

“Itigit, itigit… ipven! Ahâtsiamageng akunialuk takulautsimalugunnaiKagit!”

“Kaujimangilanga summat pattatummangâppit, Kangatuinnak Kaigajakkutit namminek!”

“Itsivagiattulaugit tittisegiattuniagama”

“Gudiga, Kanuk akuniutigisimalikkâ, imminik takunialaugit pigusimatsiavutit!”

“asiangusiasimangikaluatlutit, suli tânnasainak Kijukkanik itâkkaisimaKattajuk!”

“tagga, KaujimanialikKutit nanemmangât sukarait ammalu immuit, sanatuinnalugu piugijannik, takulaullanga, cinnamonnilinnik niaKojaKavuk amiakkunik….”

“auka, auka, Kanuingituk, taima, atsot uKautilaunga Kanuk pinianniKasimalimmangâppit kingulliminit tamâneniagavit, akunialosimalikKuk!”

English

Hi, I’m Jason Sikoak. I am from Rigolet, Nunatsiavut. 

Imagine visiting someone you haven’t seen in years, and they are so happy to see you. They want to know all about you, bombarding you with questions, so curious that you cannot get a word in edgewise, let alone try to refuse tea or a sweet. It’s not always easy to get back home to visit, but when you do you make the most of it. This is a conversation I can imagine happening when looking at Michael Massie’s piece. 

Woman – older – Labrador accent

“Well, now who could that be?”

“Come in, come in… oh my god it’s you! Haven’t seen you in a dog’s age!”

“Don’t know why you’re knocking for, you’re always welcome here my dear!”

“Come sit while I puts the kettle on to boil.”

Water pouring, kettle rattles on stove, utensil drawer being opened, spoons rattling.

“My god, how long has it been, look at you all grown up!”

“Not that you’ve changed much, still the same young feller that brought in my wood for me!”

-Kettle whistles, cups rattling, water pouring, cups set on table…

“There ya go, now you knows where the sugar and the milk are, you just make it how ya likes it, now let me see, I think I have some cinnamon rolls left here….”

-Spoons clinking on teacup, stirring

“o, no, it’s no trouble, now there we are, now you go on and tell me what you’ve been up to since the last time you was here, god it’s been too long!”

Inuktut

ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᑯᔪᓚ ᒧᐊᕗᑦ

ᒥᐊᕆᔭᓐ ᑐᓪᓗᖅ: ᖁᓕᓪᓗ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ

ᑯᔪᓚ ᒧᐊᕗᑦᖑᔪᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᒐ ᐃᓅᔪᖅ ᑰᔾᔪᐊᕋᐱᖕᒥᐅᑕᖅ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ.

ᒥᐊᕆᔭᓐ ᑐᓪᓗᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑎ ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᒥ 1900 ᐱᒋᐊᓕᓵᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᒥᖅᓱᕐᓂᖓ, ᓂᕕᖓᑖᖅ, ᓄᕕᖅᓵᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᕙᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕕᖓᔪᒃᓴᓄᑦ ᐃᕙᓗᖏᑦ, ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑭᓇᐅᓂᕆᔭᐅᔪᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒥᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖅ. ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᒃᑐᖓ ᑖᑉᓱᒧᖓ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕆᔭᒃᑲ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᑦ. ᑎᒍᐊᖑᓗᖓ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ, ᐃᓄᒻᒥᒃ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᖅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑐᖓ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖁᓕᓪᓗ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᑦ ᑭᖑᓂᐊᓂ. ᐊᐅᓪᓛᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᕿᑭᖅᑖᓘᑉ ᓯᒡᔭᐸᓯᐊᓂ, ᓂᕆᔪᓐᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓂᕿᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᓕᒥᐅᑕᖏᓪᓗ ᖃᖏᖅᑐᒑᐱᖕᒥ. ᐃᒃᓯᕙᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᓇᑎᕐᒥ ᐱᙳᐊᕐᕕᒻᒥ, ᐊᒥᓱᑲᓪᓚᐃᑦ ᓄᑕᖅᑲᐃᑦ ᖃᐃᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᒃᓯᕙᖃᑎᒋᑉᓗᖓ ᓴᓂᐊᓂ. ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᐅᖃᖅᑐᖅ “ᑖᕙᙵᑦ ᑕᑯᑉᓗᑎᑦ ᐃᓅᓇᓱᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᒋᑦ” ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖁᒡᓗᑎᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ ᐅᖃᐅᑎᒐᑉᑯ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᖓᓄᑦ. ᑖᒻᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖅ, ᖁᓕᓪᓗ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ, ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᓄᓇᓕᒥᐅᑕᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᑕᕆᔭᐅᓐᓂᕋ ᐃᓅᓂᕋᒻᓄᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᒃ ᐊᓯᐊᑕ.

English

Marion Tuu’luq: Thirty Faces.

I’m Kajola Morewood and my birth mother is Inuit from Kuujjuarapik in Nunavik.

Marion Tuu’luq was a renowned textile artist and printmaker who was born on the land in the early 1900s. Her textile work or, nivingataa, made with woollen fabrics and cotton thread, speaks about identity and thoughts of home. I feel drawn to her work as these are themes I explore in my own art practice. As an adoptee who was raised in the South, I did not meet another Inuk until I was in my thirties. On a trip along the coast of Baffin Island, I had a chance to share country food with the community of Clyde River. As I was sitting on the floor of the gymnasium, a small group of children came up and sat next to me. One of them said “I saw you across the room and thought you were Inuk” and I surprised him by confirming his suspicions. This piece, Thirty Faces, reminds me of this moment of being surrounded by the community and being recognized as Inuit for the first time by another Inuk.

Inuktut

ᓅᒥ ᐃᕐᕈᒥᐊᑉ ᐱᓇᓱᑦᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᒪᕆᐅᕗᑦ, ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᒪᔪᑦᓯᐊᖑᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᑐᑭᓯᓇᑦᓯᐊᑐᓂᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᖃᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᓗ ᑕᕐᓂᖏᓐᓅᓕᖓᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕕᐅᑉ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ. ᐅᓇ ᐊᔪᒉᑦᑐᓱᓂ ᐊᑎᒋᑦᓴᔭ ᐊᑯᕐᕈᐊᖅ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᕐᑕᖃᕐᐳᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒦᓱᑎᒃ ᐱᖓᓱᐃᓂᒃ. ᐃᓚᒌᑦ – ᐊᖑᑎ, ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᕿᑐᕐᖓᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒫᕐᑐᖅ, ᐃᖃᓗᐊᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᒍᑎᖃᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐊᑦᔨᒌᖕᖏᑐᓂᒃ. ᓄᓇ ᐱᕈᕐᑐᖃᖕᖏᑑᖕᖏᑐᖅ, ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᒪᕆᐅᕗᕐᓗ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᕆᐊᖓ – ᓲᕐᓗ ᓄᓇ ᑖᓂᓯᕐᑐᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑖᓂ, ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᐃᑦ, ᖃᓐᓃᑦ ᑲᑕᒐᕐᑐᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᕆᐊᓪᓗ ᕿᓚᒻᒥ ᕿᓪᓛᒋᐊᕗᑦ. ᓯᕿᓂᕐᓗ ᑕᕐᕿᓗ ᓴᕐᕿᔮᕐᐴᒃ. ᐊᕿᒃᒋᒧᑦ ᐳᓛᕆᐊᕐᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓇᓄᕐᓗ ᖃᓂᑦᑐᒦᑉᐳᖅ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᖃᓗᕐᑐᕈᒪᔪᑦᓴᐅᒥᔫᒃ. ᐃᖃᓗᐊᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒃᑐ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᓪᓗ ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᑐᓂᔫᔭᖃᑦᑕᓱᑎᒃ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ ᐃᓚᒌᓄᑦ.

ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓰᑦ ᑐᓄᓐᓂ ᑖᑦᓱᒪᓗ ᐊᑯᕐᕈᐊᑉ ᐅᖓᑖᓂ, ᓯᐊᑦᓇ ᓴᕐᕿᔮᕐᑐᔮᕐᐳᖅ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘ ᓄᓕᐊᔪᒃ, ᐊᑎᒋᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑭᒍᒥᐊᕐᓱᓂ ᑲᑭᕙᒻᒥᒃ, ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᑉ ᐊᖑᑎᐅᑉ ᐊᑦᔨᖓᓂᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐃᓅᓪᓚᒥᓗ ᐃᖃᓘᓪᓚᒥᓗ. ᐊᒃᒐᖏᑕ ᐃᓄᒐᖕᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᓇᑲᑎᕐᓯᒪᖕᖏᑐᑦ ᓇᑲᑎᕐᓯᒪᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᕙᒃᑲᓗᐊᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᑕᐅᓕᕋᒥᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᑭᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᑉᐱᐊᖃᖔᕐᐳᖅ. ᓄᔭᑯᑖᖏᑦ ᐃᖃᓘᒍᓇᐅᔮᕐᑐᑦ, ᑕᕆᐅᑉ ᐃᒪᕐᐱᐅᑉ ᑕᕐᓂᖓ, ᐊᖑᓇᓱᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓂᑐᕐᑎᓯᕙᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᖃᓗᓐᓂᐊᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓈᒻᒪᒋᔭᖃᑦᓯᐊᑐᐊᕋᒥ.

ᐃᓚᒃᑲᓗ ᑰᒃᔪᐊᕌᐱᒻᒥᐅᖑᖏᓐᓇᓱᑕ, ᐊᑖᑕᒐ ᐊᑎᒋᑦᓴᔭᒥᑦ ᓴᓇᒪᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᑯᕐᕈᐊᖃᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᕗᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᑦᑎᓕᕋᑦᑕ ᑎᐅᑎᐊᒃ:ᑭᐅᑉ ᖃᓂᒋᔭᖓᓄᑦ, ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖃᐅᑎᖓᓃᑐᐃᓐᓇᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂ ᐊᒥᓱᓂ.

ᖃᒻᒥᑯᑦ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐁᑦᑐᑎᒋᓚᐅᔪᔭᖓ ᐊᑎᓕᕋᒃᑯᓗ, ᑐᑭᓯᓕᓚᐅᔪᕗᖓ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᑐᐊᓱᑐᖃᐅᒋᐊᖏᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᓅᓕᖓᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒥᒍᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑐᐊᕆᑦᓱᒋᑦ. ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᕐᑎᒍᓪᓗᓃᑦ ᐃᓕᑦᑎᓯᒪᓐᓂᐸᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓪᓚᖑᐊᖃᕐᐸᑕ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓱᓇᔭᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᐃᓗ ᐊᑐᕐᑕᐅᔪᕕᓃ, ᒥᕐᓱᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᔪᐃᓐᓇᐅᓱᖑᕗᑦ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ ᐱᑐᑦᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᓱᓇᔭᐅᓂᖏ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ ᐊᓯᑦᔨᓯᒪᓕᕐᑐᑦ, ᕿᓯᐅᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᒥᕐᓱᑕᐅᒪᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᑐᑦᑐᔭᓂᒃ ᐃᕙᓗᓕᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ ᐃᕙᓗᑦᓴᔭᒥᒃ ᐃᕙᓗᖃᕐᐸᓕᕐᖁᑦ ᐊᑎᒋᑦᓴᔭᒥᓪᓗ ᐊᑐᕐᓱᑎᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᑌᒣᑦᑑᓕᕋᓗᐊᕋᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᓯᖏᓐᓇᓱᖑᕗᑦ ᐃᓚᑦᓲᑎᖃᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓀᑦ, ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᒍᓪᓗ ᑲᑎᖕᖓᐅᑎᓂᕐᒥᓂᒃ. ᐊᑐᓕᕋᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑎᒋᑦᓴᔭᐅᑦᓱᓂ ᐊᑯᕐᕈᐊᕋ ᐱᔪᕆᒪᓂᖃᓱᖑᕗᖓ ᐃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᓂᕋᓂᒃ, ᖁᕕᐊᓱᒍᑎᒋᑦᓱᒍ ᐳᕿᐊᓱᐊᖕᖏᑑᒍᑎᒋᑦᓱᒍᓗ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᐊᒍᑎᒋᕙᑉᐸᑲᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᕋᒪ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᖑᐊᕌᐱᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖏᓐᓇᐸᑦᑐᓂᒃ.

ᓅᒥ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐅᕐᓯᑎᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᓚᐅᔪᕗᖅ ᑕᐅᓴᓐᑎ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ ᐊᒥᓲᓂᓕᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐅᕐᓯᒪᑦᓱᓂ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᓱᓂ, ᓴᓇᔭᕕᓂᖏᑦ ᓄᐃᑕᑎᑦᓯᕕᓐᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓂᖃᑦᓯᐊᑐᓂ ᓄᐃᑕᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᔪᔪᑦ. ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑐᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᒋᕗᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᑎᐅᓂᕐᓄᓗ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᓕᐅᕐᓂᓄᓪᓗ ᓅᒥᐅᑉ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᓯᐊᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᔪᔭᖓ, ᐅᓂᒃᑲᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᓱᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᑲᔪᓯᑦᓯᐊᐸᑦᓱᓂ. ᑕᐅᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᐃᑕᑦᓯᐊᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᓂᑰᔪᖅ ᑲᔪᓯᔪᒥᓪᓗ ᐊᔪᒉᒋᔭᐅᖏᓐᓇᓲᖑᕗᑦ ᑕᑯᓂᐊᕐᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᔪᑐᖃᕐᓄᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᕆᐅᕐᑐᓄᓪᓗ.

English

“I’m Christine Qillasiq Lussier, my ties are to Salluit, and I am affiliated to the Northern Village of Kuujjuaraapik”.

Normee Ekoomiak’s works are always so very visually pleasing, with their vibrant colours and his very clear storytelling of Inuit and Inuit spirituality in Nunavik landscapes. This amazing duffle vest tells three different stories encompassed into one. A family- a man, a woman with her baby in her amautik, have successfully caught fish with different fishing tools. The land is not barren, it is wondrous to behold- the land dances below them, big, beautiful snowflakes and stars sprinkle the sky. There is the sun and the moon. They are visited by an aqiggiq and a nanuq nearby, who must be hungry for some Iqaluit too. They are happy about their catch, and the Iqaluit seem to give themselves to the family. 

Behind these stories and behind this vest, seems to be Sedna, or Nuliajuk, wearing an atigik and holding a kakivak, the same as the Inuk man. She is both human and fish. Her fingers are not chopped off as in the conventionally recounted story, but rather, she has long fins. Her long hair has become fish-like, she is the spirit of the sea, allowing hunters to receive catches if she is appeased by their adherence to fishing practices.

When my family and I lived in Kuujjuaraapik, my ataata had a duffle vest, and when we came down to live near Tio’tià:ke, it sat in his closet for years. 

He recently gifted it to me and as I put it on and wore it, it occurred to me that Inuit have always told stories about the land through their clothing in one way or another. Be it in traditional patterns and designs or the materials and colours used, sewing clothing has always reflected a relationship to land. The materials have changed, today, from skins and sinew to thread and duffle, but there is always a strong visualization of that intimate relationship between Inuit, storytelling, and the land. Wearing my duffle vest makes me feel proud to be an Inuk, it brings me joy and confidence, and makes me feel excited to think about the beautiful pieces that continue to be created.

Normee was a phenomenal artist who had created thousands of art pieces and was renowned worldwide, his pieces were exhibited in a range of recognized institutions. Storytelling is an artform he was fluent in, no matter the medium he chose. The use of vibrant colours is a staple of his works which continue to awe audiences, old and new.

Inuktut

ᐅᕙᖓ ᑯᕆᔅᑕ ᐅᓗᔪᒃ ᔭᕙᔅᑭ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᖅ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᐅᑕᖅ. ᒥᐊᓂᕆᔨᐅᖃᑕᐅᔪᑦ−ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎ ᐃᓄᐊᒧᑦ.

ᐃᓄᐊ (INUA) ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒐᖃᓗᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᓗᒃᑖᖅ. ᑕᑯᔭᕆᐅᕋᑉᑯ ᕚᓂ ᐊᕙᑎᑑᑉ ᓴᓂᕋᕐᒧᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᒥᖅᓱᒐᖓ ᑕᐃᑲᙵᑦ ᐊᔪᙱᑦᑐᕆᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ. ᓴᓂᕋᕐᒧᐊᖅᑐᒃᓴᖅ ᒥᖅᓱᒐᕐᒥᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᓂᖃᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᐅᒪᔪᖓ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥᑦ. ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᑦᑐᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ “ᓄᓇᕗᑦ”-ᒧᙱᑦᑐᖅ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᑉᓗᓂ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒃᓴᕐᒧᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᓯᐊᓅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓇᓗᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᕐᒥᑦ. ᑭᖑᓂᐊᒍᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑲᓚᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᖏᑦ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᓂᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒻᓄᑦ. ᕚᓂ ᑐᑭᓯᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕐᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓂᑉᑳᓂᒃ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑕᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕈᐊᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑲᓚᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ.

ᕚᓂ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᒥᖅᓱᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ. ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᖕᒥᓂᙶᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᔾᔮᕐᓇᖅᑑᑉᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖕᓂᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᑕᐃᑯᙵᐅᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ, ᑲᑎᒍᖕᓂ, ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᒥᖅᓱᖃᑎᒋᓇᔭᕈᖕᓂ, ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᓗᒍ ᖃᐃᔨᒪᓕᕈᒪᓂᐊᖅᑕᐃᑦ, ᐅᔾᔨᖅᑐᕐᓂᖓ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᒋᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᕚᓂ, ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᑦᑕᐅᒍᓱᖕᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᑦ ᑲᓚᖏᑦ ᑐᖑᔪᖅᑐᐃᑦ ᐃᕙᓗᒃᓴᐅᑎᓂᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᔭᕋ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ. ᐊᓯᐊᙳᖅᑐᑦ ᑲᓚᐃᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒥᑦ ᑲᓚᒥᑦ ᐊᓯᐊᓄᑦ ᑲᓚᒧᑦ ᐃᖢᐊᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑦᑕᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᓄᖑᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᑉᓗᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᔭᓗᒃᑖᖏᓐᓂᑦ. ᓲᕐᓗ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᖕᓂᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐃᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐊᒃᑐᐊᖃᑎᒌᓗᒃᑖᕋᑉᑕ ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅ.

ᕚᓂ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᓄᙵᐅᔭᕌᖓᑦ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓇᓗᓕᖅᓯᒪᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᓱᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᓇᓃᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᑦ, ᓄᓇ ᐊᓪᓚᐅᒋᔭᖓ. ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᖃᕐᓂᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᖏᓐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓂᐅᔪᒧᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᕈᒪᓕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑑᕐᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᑉᓗᓈᑎᑑᕐᒍ. ᐅᖃᖅᑐᖅ “ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔪᖓ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑑᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᕈᖕᓇᖅᑐᓂᑦ” ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓇᓗᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᖁᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᒧᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᐅᓂᐅᖕᒪᖔᑦ.

English

I am Krista Ulujuk Zawadski from Igluligaarjuk and Rankin Inlet, Nunavut. I am one of the co-curators of INUA.

INUA is centred around Inuit from all over Inuit Nunangat. When I first saw Fanny Avatituuq’s wall hanging I instantly felt grounded. The wall hanging drew me in and I felt a contentment as though I am at home in Nunavut. I knew my reaction was not because of the words “Nunavut” stitched into the fabric, but it was something that else that I couldn’t quite grasp at first. Later I realized it was the colours and the imagery that made me feel connected to home. Fanny has a way to convey messages and stories through her stitches and choice of colours.

Fanny is an exceptionally skilled seamstress. Her work is always original and vibrant and it pulls you in. But, if you meet her, or if you get a chance to sew with her, you are immediately drawn to her personality, her attention to detail, and the intricacy of her stitches. During a conversation with Fanny, she told me she is particularly fond of the variegated green threads, and I can see why. The changing of colours from one shade to another is very soothing and creates a nice fade in all the work she does. It’s as though she is reminding us that we are all connected in one way or another.

When Fanny travels south she said she feels confused about where things are, it is unfamiliar territory for her. That feeling of unbelonging to a place inspired her to write Nunavut in syllabics and English. She said “I knew people would be able to read Nunavut in syllabics” and she wanted people to feel less lost and know which way was home.

Inuktut

ᐊᐃᖓᐃ, ᓇᐸᑦᓯ ᕘᓪᒎᔪᖓ, ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒎᓯᖓ ᑕᑯᒋᐅᕋᒃᑯ ᑕᐅᑐᙳᐊᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᕋ ᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑯᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓄᑦ ᕿᕐᓂᖅᑕᓄᑦ ᖃᑯᖅᑕᓄᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᖓᓯᑦᑐᒦᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᓈᓴᓄ ᔨᐅᒍᕌᕕᒃᒥ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᐃᑲᙵᑦ ᐃᓄᓕᕆᓲᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᕐᓂᒃ. ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᑕᑯᒐᒃᑯ ᖁᕕᐊᓚᐅᖅᑯᖓ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᓂᖅᓴᐅᓚᐅᕐᖓᑦ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᓯᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᐃᓄᒻᒥᒃ ᐊᖑᒻᒥᒃ ᐆᒪᑦᓯᐊᕆᑦᑐᒥᒃ. ᐅᑕᖅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖃᐃ ᐆᓇᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᑏᒥ ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᓯᒡᒐᓕᐊᕐᒥ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᖅᑐᖅ, ᑕᖃᐃᖅᓯᑲᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖃᐃ ᖃᒧᑕᐅᔭᒃᑰᑦ ᐊᖁᑯᑖᓚᐅᖅᓱᓂ ᓯᓈᖓᓂ. 

ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᒎᓯᖅᑖᖅᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ “ᐊᒃᑲᒃ”, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒎᓯᐊ ᓈᒻᒪᒋᑦᓯᐊᖅᑕᖓ. ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑎ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᒻᒥᒃ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᑦᑎᒥᒃ ᐊᐸᔮᖓᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᒐᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᖃᐅᔨᓇᖅᓱᓂ ᖃᑯᐃᓕᓯᒪᒋᐊᖓ ᐅᐱᕐᖓᑦᓵᒃᑯᑦ, ᓴᓇᐅᒐᒻᒥᓗ ᓇᓴᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒥᐊᖃᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᒥ. ᑕᐃᒍᓲᒃᑲᓕ ᐹᖕ ᓇᓴᑦ, ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᕋᓗ ᐲᑦ, ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑑᕐᒥᐅᑕᖅ, ᐃᓪᓚᕋᓚᖃᑎᒋᓲᕋ “ᐹᖕᒥᑦ ᑕᐅᒍᓲᕗᓪᓕ, ᓇᓴᑦ.” ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖁᕕᐊᒋᓪᓚᕆᑦᑕᕋ ᑖᓐᓇ ᖁᓕᑦᑕᐅᔭᖓᑕ ᑕᖅᓴᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑦᑎᐊᖓᓂ ᖁᓕᑦᑕᐅᔭᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᑐᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒻᒥᔪᖓ. ᐅᖅᑰᔾᔪᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᑦᓯᐊᒥᑦ ᐃᖃᓗᕆᐅᕋᒪ ᓯᑯᒥᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᓴᑦᓱᑕ. 

ᑏᕕᑉ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᖓ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦᓯᐊᕈᓐᓇᕐᖓᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓗᐃᑦᑑᓕᖓᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᑦᓱᒧᖓᖓᓪᓗᑎᓗ ᐊᑕᐅᑦᓯᒃᑯᑦ. ᓇᒻᒥᓂᕐᓕ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᖃᑦᑐᑦᓴᐅᙱᓚᑎᑦ ᑖᑦᓱᒪ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᑦᑎᐅᑉ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᓴᖅᑮᒍᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᒍᑦ. ᐊᖑᓇᓱᑦᑎᓕᒫᖓᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᑦᑎᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᓲᖑᒻᒪᑕ ᐃᒃᑮᓇᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑦᓱᕈᕐᓇᖅᑐᒥ ᐊᕙᑎᒥ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᕈᐊᑦᓯᐊᕆᐊᓖᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᓂᐊᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᓪᓗ ᑭᓱᖃᓗᐊᙱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᓱᑎ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᑐᑭᖃᔾᔪᑕᐅᙱᓚᖅ ᐊᒃᑲᕗᑦ ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᓯᑦᓯᐊᓲᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓂᕈᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ.

English

Hi, I’m Napatsi Folger, from Iqaluit, Nunavut. When I first saw the title of this piece my imagination conjured imagery of black and white photographs of stoic Inuit glancing off into the distance à la National Geographic or the plates of old anthropology textbooks. When I glimpsed the image I was delighted to find the much more familiar face of a modern Inuk man glowing expectantly. Maybe he’s waiting for a hot cup of tea or holding a smoldering cigarette out of frame, and taking a well-deserved break after a long journey by snow-machine to the flow-edge. 

This print has been affectionately dubbed by our curatorial team as “Uncle”, and the unofficial title suits him to a tee. The artist has captured the quintessential Inuk hunter with his orange reflective sun goggles, no doubt hiding a dramatic spring tan, and his brightly woven hat. I call them Pang hats, and my friend Pete, who is from Panniqtuuq, likes to joke “or as we call them in Pang, hats.” But what pleases me most about this piece is the fact that I have worn that same white camo parka myself. It kept me warm on the ice the day I caught my first char while ice fishing. 

Teevee’s brilliance as an artist lies in her ability to tell stories which are both universal and intensely personal at the same time. And while you may not have your own joyful memory about this hunter’s apparel, you can see the playful ubiquity that the artist is able to express in her art. He is both all hunters and a specific hunter. Inuit work in the unforgiving and harsh environment of the arctic tundra and choosing the right equipment and clothing to weather that environment often falls into a narrow selection of items, but that doesn’t mean that our uncles can’t look dang good choosing their colours.       

Inuktut

ᐁ, ᐊᓰᓐᓇᔮᖑᕗᖓ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᑲᒪᔨᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᑦᑐᓄᑦ. ᐃᓄᑦᔪᐊᒥᐅᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᓄᓇᕕᒻᒥ ᑎᐆᑎᐊ:ᑮᒥ ᒪᓐᑐᔨᐊᖑᓂᕋᕐᑕᐅᕙᒻᒥᔪᒥ ᑯᐯᒃᒥ ᓄᓇᓯᒪᓂᕐᓴᐅᓱᖓᔪᖓ.

ᐅᑯᐊ ᐊᔮᓗᒻᒪ ᐃᓕᓴᐱᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᖕᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᖏᓪᓗᑐᕐᑐᑦ. ᐃᓕᓴᐱᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᒐᓗ ᑲᕉᓪ ᐱᓇᓱᖃᑎᒌᓯᒪᔫᒃ ᓄᐊᑦᓯᓱᑎᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕕᓕᒫᒥᒃ ᓄᐊᑦᓯᕕᖃᕐᓱᑎᒃ ᓄᐃᑦᓯᒍᑎᒋᓂᐊᕐᑕᒥᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓭᒍᑎᑦᓴᓂᒃ ᕿᑐᕐᖓᓂᒃ ᐯᕆᑦᓯᕕᓐᓂ. ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᐃᓅᔭᓕᐅᕐᓯᑎᑐᖃᐅᓕᓚᐅᔪᖅ, ᐱᔪᓐᓇᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓱᓂ ᕿᑐᕐᖓᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑐᐊᕐᕕᖃᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᔪᕗᖅ ᐃᓅᔭᓕᐊᕕᓂᕐᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᑦᑑᔭᕐᑕᐅᑎᑦᓯᖃᑦᑕᓱᓂ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑐᐊᕈᑎᒋᑦᓱᒋᑦ.

ᐃᓅᔭᖕᖑᐊᖁᑎᖏᑕ ᐃᓚᖓᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᐅᕝᕕᒥᒃ ᑎᒍᐊᕐᑕᓚᐅᕐᑐᕕᓂ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᖅ ᐱᐅᒋᒻᒪᕆᑦᑕᕋ, ᐃᓅᔭᖕᖑᐊᑕᖓᓗ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᕐᑐᒪᕆᐊᓘᑦᓱᓂ. ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐊᖑᑎᒥ ᐳᐊᓗᖓᓂᒃ ᑎᒍᓯᔪᖅ ᐊᐅᕝᕕᒥᒃ ᕿᐅᖁᔨᖕᖏᓇᒥ ᐱᓂᕐᓗᑲᓪᓚᖁᓇᒍᓗ. ᐊᐅᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᐃᒥᕐᑎᖃᑦᑕᓱᒍ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᖕᖑᔨᐊᖓ! ᐊᐅᕝᕕᒥᒃ ᓇᓪᓕᒍᓱᓕᕐᓱᓂ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᖑᑎᒥᓄᑦ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᕋᑕᖕᖏᑐᖅ. ᑌᒪᓕ ᓱᓕᔪᒥᒃ ᐅᖃᕐᓂᖏᒻᒪ, ᓱᓇᒥᒃ ᑕᑯᒻᒪᖔᕐᒥ ᐊᖑᑎᖓ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓐᓂᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᕿᐅᔭᓇᕐᓯᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐳᐊᓗᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕈᒪᓕᕋᒥ. ᐳᐊᓗᒥᓂᒃ ᓇᕝᕚᕋᒥ ᖁᐃᓇᓗᖂᒥᒻᒪᕆᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᑦᓱᓂ ᐊᐅᕝᕕᒥᒃ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᒻᒥᒃ ᖄᕐᓱᒍᓘᕐᐹ. ᐊᐅᒑᓗᒃ ᓇᒧᓕᒫᖅ ᓯᕐᐹᕿᕗᖅ ᐊᕐᓇᐅᓗ ᐆᒻᒪᑎᖓ ᓯᖁᒥᑦᓯᐊᐳᖅ. ᐅᐱᒋᕙᕐᔪᐊᑕᕋ ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᐃᓅᔭᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᔪᒻᒪᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᓄᐃᑕᑎᑦᓯᒍᑎᒋᑦᓱᓂᒋᑦ, ᑌᒫᒃ ᐃᓅᔭᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑲᐅᓯᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓚᕿᓯᒪᕗᖓ.

English

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

This work by my great aunt elisapee is incredibly special to me. Elisapee and my Mother Carol worked together on a project of gathering stories from across Nunavik to develop a curriculum for daycare children. Elisapee was already a skilled doll maker at the time, she used her talent to engage the children with the stories in a tactile way. 

One of the pieces is the woman who adopted a caterpillar. I love this story so much, and the doll that tells the story is so beautiful. The woman takes her husband’s mitten to keep the caterpillar warm and safe. She lets it feed on her own blood and it grows to be huge! She loves the caterpillar, but doesn’t tell her husband about it. Because she was dishonest, he didn’t know what he found when the weather got cold and he needed his mitten. When he found his mitten he was completely disgusted when he saw the huge caterpillar and he smooshed it. Blood went everywhere and the woman was left completely heart broken. I am really grateful that she took the time to make dolls to bring the stories to life, because she has done this work I’ve learned many more stories.

Inuktut

ᐊᐃ, ᐊᑎᖃᒃᐳᖓ ᓕᐋᓐ ᐃᓄᐊᕋᒃ−ᑎᐊᓪ, ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᕗᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒃᑲ ᒥᑦᑎᒪᑕᓕᒻᒦᖓᕐᓂᑰᕗᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. ᓄᓇᖃᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᒐᕙᒪᒃᑯᓐᓅᖅᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᓄᓇᓕᖃᕕᐅᔪᓂ ᒪᔅᖁᐃᐊᒻᒥ, ᓯᖁᐊᒥᔅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᔅᓕᐃᓪ−ᐅᐊᐅᑐᔅ ᐊᓪᓚᓂ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᕚᓐᑰᕙ.

ᑕᕝᕙᓂ ᐊᖏᔪᒥ−ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᒥ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᐅᓐᓂᒻᒥ, ᐃᓕᓴᐱ ᐃᓱᓪᓗᑕᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᖅᑕᓕᐅᕐᓗᓂ ᐃᖃᐃᑎᑦᑎᒍᑎᒥᒃ ᑕᔅᓱᒪᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᒥ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᒥᓗ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᒍᑎᓂᒃ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᒧᑦ. ᑕᑯᔭᐅᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᑦ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᑎᒋ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᓯᕈᒃᓯᒪᓕᕐᒪᖔᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓇᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᓯᕈᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ. 

ᓴᐅᒻᒥᒻᒦᑦᑐᑦ, ᐃᑉᐸᒃᓵᓚᓯᒪᒻᒪᑕ − ᐃᑉᐸᒃᓴᖅ.

ᐃᑉᐸᒃᓴᖅ, ᑎᒻᒥᐊᑦ ᖁᓚᐅᑦᑎᖃᑦᓴᓚᐅᒻᒪᑕ ᖃᒻᒪᓂᒃ, ᐊᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᕐᓂᒃ.

ᓇᑦᑎᑦ ᐃᕐᕋᕕᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐱᓚᒃᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᒫᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᒪᐃᓘᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᐅᒪᖃᕈᑕᐅᖁᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᓐᓄᐊᓪᓗᐊᒃᑯᑦ ᓯᕿᓐᓂᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ. 

ᐊᑭᐋᓂ ᐃᒪᖅ, ᖃᐅᒻᒪᕆᓪᓗᓂ ᑐᖑᔪᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗᑭᓵᖅ ᕿᑎᖓᓂ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂ, ᐅᓪᓗᒥᖃᒃᐳᒍᑦ − ᐅᓪᓗᒥ.

ᐅᓪᓗᒥ, ᖁᓛᒍᓕᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐸᐅᕋᐅᔭᓕᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᓱᑦ ᖁᓚᐅᓲᖑᕗᑦ, ᐅᓯᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐅᓯᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐸᓚᐅᒑᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑏᑦ. 

ᐃᓚᒌᑦ ᑐᐊᕕᖅᐳᑦ ᐅᓪᓇᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓯᑮᑐᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᕕᓕᐋᖅᑐᑦ ᓇᖏᕆᐊᖃᕈᒪᓇᑎᒃ ᑐᓄᐊᓂ ᑕᒪᑐᒪᓂ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥ.

ᐊᓯᕈᕈᓐᓇᖏᑦᑐᖃᕐᒪᑦ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓄᓇ − ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓄᓇ.

ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᐸᑦ ᐃᓪᓗᒋᔭᕕᑦ ᑭᓱᕋᔭᐅᓂᖓ, ᓄᓇ ᑕᒪᓐᓇᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᐅᓂᐊᕐᒪᑦ, ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐃᓐᓈᕈᒻᒨᖓᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓯᓚᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᕐᒧᑦ.

ᓄᓇᒥ ᓱᕈᓰᑦ ᐱᙳᐊᕐᓂᐋᕐᒪᑕ − ᐃᒫᖑᒐᓗᐋᖅᐸᑕᓗᓐᓃᑦ ᐊᖅᓴᖃᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᒃᑑᑉ−ᐊᒥᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᖅᓴᒥᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᕼᑭᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᔭᐅᒐᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᑎᖅᑕᕋᐅᑎᔭᐅᓗᓂ ᐅᓪᓗᓕᒪᖅ.

ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᔪᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᓯᒪᒻᒪᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᒃ, ᐃᒫᖑᑎᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᒍᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒍᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᑲᓱᖅᑎᑦᑎᒍᑕᐅᓗᓂ ᑲᑎᒻᒪᖏᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᑉᐸᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᒧᑦ.

English

Hi, my name is Leanne Inuarak-Dall, I’m an artist and my family is from Pond Inlet, NU. I currently live on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh Nations, also known as Vancouver.

In this large-scale drawing,  Elisapee Ishulutaq has managed to weave together reminders of the past with the future memories of today. She is showing us how things have changed and bringing attention to what stays the same. 

On the left, we have yesterday – ippaksaq

Yesterday, birds flew above the qammait, summer homes of skin.

Seal intestine, cut this way and sewn that way to let in the midnight sun. 

Across the water, the bright blue circle at the centre of it all, we have today – ullumi.

Today, helicopters and prop planes fly above, bearing precious cargo of flour and tea.

Families rush on foot and skidoo to get to church so they don’t have to stand in the back this week.

What stays the same though, is nuna – the land.

No matter what your house is made of, it will always be on the same land, set against the mountains and sky and water.

On the land kids will play – whether that’s passing the caribou-skin ball or a hockey puck back and forth all day

This work bears witness to nuna, acting as a memory map that bridges the gap between yesterday and today.

Inuktut translation coming soon

My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition, and I am an Inuk
and Newfoundlander from Nunatsiavut. I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Labrador.
This installation of photographs by Inupiaq artist and commercial photographer Brian Adams is
actually a group of photos selected from several different photographic series that he created
between 2015 and 2018. These include I Am Inuit (2015-2016), Disappearing Villages (2015-
2016), Ilatka: The Inuit Word For My Relatives (2018), Talk to Strangers (2018), and Love
Alaska (2018). These works may be from different series’ and times but to me they have a shared intention and purpose; I think the artist aims to show an Alaskan Inuit perspective on Alaskan Inuit communities, to connect them together and celebrate every day life for Inupiat, Yup’ik, Cup’ik and St. Lawrence Island Yupik peoples. To me, these are very clearly photographs by someone who belongs to these communities, someone who isn’t romanticizing the north but instead reflecting his people and relations, their shared culture, and their lands, towns and villages. These photographs are personal, funny, touching, revealing and significant. They speak to big issues facing Inuit Nunaat like climate change, resource extraction, and the need to access healthy Inuit foods from the land, but he does so in a way that is very connected, down to earth, and community-centered. We had a hard time picking just 40 of these photographs to share. And then when we were installing them in the exhibition, we realized yet another connection between the works – the red sea-can, or shipping container in one of the photos, is almost exactly the same as the shipping container we installed in the exhibition to showcase the work of an Inuk and Newfoundlander artist from the other side of the continent, Glenn Gear. This speaks to the ubiquity of these shipping containers, and other shared visual markers across all our communities in the Arctic. In the process of creating this exhibition there have been many such discoveries of the similarities between Inuit regions from around the circumpolar world.

Inuktut

Atiga Heather Igloliorte, Nunatsiavummiunguvunga, ammalu pigutsatausimavunga Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labradorimi. UkâlattiuKatauKattavunga tâpsumunga takujatsamut.  

Tânna piguttutalik sapanganut tuttop amingata ippiasuk ikKanattumagiuvuk uvannut, anânatsiaga sanasimajanga, anânatsiagilauttaga, Susannah Igloliorte. IniKalauttuk Hopedale, Nunatsiavummi inosingata nâtlugunut tâvatuak nolautsimajuk nunaganut ittuKautimmut akuni kamagijaugiaKasimagami inogunnainimminut, taimaimmat pivitsaKasimavunga ilagiKattatlugu inosuttotlunga. Sivullipâmik ikKaumavunga pulâgiagiattuKattalauttaga Kangaulimmat IttuKautimmut Happy Valley-imi taikani atsâsuga suliaKalauttuk, siagugiangulimmat ânniasiupvimi, nânninganut inosinganut. KunganginnaKattalauttuk. Suzannah, upvalu Susie-imik taijaunginnaKattalauttuk ilonnainut, mitsutiunimminik Kaujimajautsialauttuk Hopedale-imi, ammalu sananguatiutsiaKattalaugivunga sugusiutlunga, ammalu taimaimmat pigutsatauligama, ammalu akunigalaulimmat inogunnaigami, kinakkutuinnait uKaKattalauttut tainnaujâlaukKunga. “Ilâ, taimâk anânatsiat pigajalauttuk,” upvalu, “anânatsiagilauttanik aggaKavutit!” Tamannauluasimajuk allanguanimmut, ippinianginnaKattavunga atajunga taipsumunga, Kallunâtitut uKâlatsiagunnangikaluatluni, ammalu tukisilunnanga Inuktitut, sugusiutlunga.    

Jârimi kasâk pannaigutiKaligatta tâpsuminga takujatsamik, tusagatsatâlaukKunga Twitterikkut tamângatuinnak atjingualimmik tâpsuminga ippiasummik, ammalu nanunguamik Kitunganguamik. Tainna inuk uvannik uKalauttuk anânatsiaga ammalu anânatsianga ânniasiupvimeKatigelauttut atautsikut St. Anthony-imi, ammalu anânatsiaga aittuisimajuk tâkkuninga sanasimajamminik anânatsiaminut aittotiginguatlugit, akunialolikKuk! Tapvainak ilitatsilaukKunga Susiup piguttatilimmik sapanganut piusigiKattajamminik ammalu tatamituinnalaukKunga uppigunnalunnanga. AngiutiKalauttut attasigunnaniganik takujatsamut, ammalu tikilauttuk Winnipegimut Januarami. Ullungani ammaniagattigu tânna ippiasuk, KialiaKituinnalaukKunga takunnâtuinnatlugu – sollu uvannojuk, tâkkutigona inutsiangujumut, atautigunnagiamut Kângivalliasimajunut ammalu initsaujumut.    

English

My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am an Inuk from Nunatsiavut and Newfoundland, and I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Labrador. I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition.

This floral beaded caribou hide purse is incredibly special to me, because it was made by my Anansiak, my grandmother, Susannah Igloliorte. She lived in Hopedale, Nunatsiavut but then moved to where I lived, Happy Valley-Goose Bay, for long-term care when I was a little girl, so I feel very fortunate that I got to spend time with her when I was young. My first memories are of visiting her often in a senior’s home in Happy Valley where my aunt also worked, and later in the hospital, towards the end of her life. She was always smiling.

Susannah, or Susie as everyone called her, was a well-known seamstress in Hopedale, and I was also very creative as a child, and so as I was growing up, and for long after she passed, people were always remarking to me how I was just like her. “Oh, that’s exactly how your grandmother would have done that,” or, “you’ve got your grandmother’s hands!” Because of art, I always felt very connected to her, even though she didn’t speak much English, and I didn’t understand much Inuktitut, as a child.

About a year into the planning of this exhibition, I received a message over Twitter out of the blue with a photo of this purse, and a little stuffed polar bear doll. The person who reached out said his grandmother and my anasiak had spent some time in the same St. Anthony hospital, and my grandmother had given these handmade items to their grandmother as a gift, decades ago! I immediately recognized Susie’s signature floral beadwork style and was completely blown away. The family who owned this purse kindly agreed to loan it to the exhibition, and it arrived in Winnipeg in January, 2021.

On the day we unpacked this purse, I suddenly burst into tears just looking at it – it was like she had reached out, through this kind person, to connect with me across time and space. The family has since decided to give this purse to me, and I will be forever grateful to them for that. In my family we treasure the things that she made for us. For example, I still have the baby booties she made for me, my duffel kamek.

Inuktut

Heather Igloliorte-aaruunga, ciuliqagtemnek calillguterlua mat’umi calinguat uitaviitni, Inuguunga Nunatsiarvagmek cali Newfoundlander-aarmiungulua. Anglillruunga Happy Valley-Goose Bay-mi Labrador-armiuni, calaram ceniini Canada-mi, yaaqsigtallra-wa ak’akik mat’um nunarpamta akiani Yupiulriim Inupiarulriim-llu calitulim Drew Michael-aam yuurtellranek Mamerilleq, Alaska-mi.

Drew Michael-aam cetamanek piliarinek maniitarkamtenek agarciciqukut tua-i-wa usgutekngamteki tangniqellrit kangingellrit-llu piliarin. Malrun pilinguaruuk, aipaak-llu kegginaquulutek. Malrun ayuqenrilngurnek kangingqellriik pilinguarak arnaurcaramek kangingqertuk, Yupiit Inupiatun-llu piyaraicetun, kingunemteni callret, qanemcinek, maa-i-rpak-llu yuulallemta piciryaraitnek. Arcaqalriamek ukanirpagnek Yupiit kegginaqulitullrat taktacingqertuq, Drew-am-llu nalqigutellruluku utumaritmun atuuniluki qanemcinun-llu. Ciumek pilinguaq iqsulirnermi, Cauga Inua Drew-am, arcaqanrullruuq wangkutnun tua-i-wa kangingnaurtekngaku nallunairutii tarneran calinguat uitaviit, INUA. Drew-am nalqigutellrua tungaunaku piliaruniluku, qanra ikingqarpagniluku maniilluku Inuani, elliin kituupiallni, tarnera piniuteni-llu. Kangingqertuq-gguq, “Ellarpamta piniutii kingunrirturluni iracaqumun […] Una kenkutnguuq kingunrirturluni.” Kegginaqum tunglia, pingayuat ukut caliarini, Tangvagluku Nut’ngalqa, cali elliin yuullminun kangingqerrnia. Pililqaa cakviullermini – cimirpallran awatiini – una kegginaquq caliaqumallruuq ernerni amllerni umyuartequurallermini yuuyaraan piniutiinek uitaviiminek-llu. Drew Michael-aaq qanellruuq waten caliaminek, “Una kegginaquq quyavikut’nguuq neq’akut’nguluni-llu wangnun piciryarallemnek uitavillemnek-llu tailqa. Nut’ngalria wangni uitauq ngelkarciiqluni-llu umyuaqekumku niicugnillerkaa tangvallerkaa-llu.”

English

My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition, and I am an Inuk from Nunatsiavut and a Newfoundlander. I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Labrador, on the north-east coast of Canada, which is just about as far away on this continent as you could get from where Yup’ik and Inupiaq artist Drew Michael, was born, in Bethel, Alaska.

We selected four works from four different series’ by Drew Michael for this installation because we really connected with both the aesthetics of these works and the meaning behind them.

Two are sculptures, and two are masks. The two mixed media sculptures celebrate womanhood, Yup’ik and Inupiaq style, history, stories, and innovation. There is a very long and significant history of mask-making amongst Yup’ik people, and Drew has explained that these are used for healing and for storytelling.

The first work on the left, What is the Inua of Drew, in particular was really important to us to share because it encapsulates the title and spirit of the exhibition, INUA. Drew explains that it is a self-portrait, with his own mouth opening wide to reveal his inner Inua, his true self, his spirit and energy. He describes this as, “The universal life energy flowing directly into the heart […] This is love flowing through.”

The other mask, the third work in this sequence, Looking into My Beat, is also self-referential. Made during a difficult time in his life – a time of great transition— this mask was created while the artist spent many days thinking and feeling the strength of the culture and place that he comes from. Drew Michael says of this work, “This mask is a celebration and a way to help remind me that I come from deeply rooted culture and lands. The beat is within me and will last if I remember to listen and see.”

Inuktut

Atelihai, atiga Jocelyn, ammalu Angijunit Nunammiutauvunga Inotlunga inigiluattaga Cambridge Bay, Nunavummi. 

Uvanga Jocelyn, ammalu Iqaluktuutiarmiutauyunga

Gabriel Isaac Suaraup sananguasimajanga takutitsijuk pinasuattimik, unuttunik puijisimatluni tikiutijuk, inutotluni, atuinnaguttisijuk nigimmâgasuajunut. Sollu tujummijuk, tâvatuak takulungilagut angijunik ilagenik ammalu nunalimmiunik kinatuinnak isumajâgutigigajattanganik aittuiniattuk pisimajamminik. Aittuigalannik niKinik asittinik sangijotitsiKattajuk ilagenimmik akungani ilattinut ammalu nunalimmiunut, ammalugiallak takutitsijuk iluani Megan Kyak-Montiethiup nukKangajumik allanguattausimajunut taggajâmmik: Apviniannik: ImmaKâ ilonnait Tamânejut- Whale Hunt: I Think Everyone is Here.

English

Hello, my name is Jocelyn, and I am an Urban Inuk originally from Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. 

Gabriel Isaac Suarak’s carving shows a hunter, bringing in a number of seals, all by himself, in preparation for a feast. He may look to be lonely, but what we do not see is the large family and community members that one would imagine he will be sharing his catch with. Sharing food with others strengthens the bonds between family and community, as also shown in Megan Kyak-Montieth’s stop-motion animated film, Whale Hunt: I Think Everyone is Here.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Hello, this is Asinnajaq, a member of the Curatorial team. I am from Inukjuak, Nunavik and have spent most of my time in Tiohtià:ke also known as Montreal, Quebec. 

As a curatorial team we have been excited to include ceramics in the exhibition since the early stages of planning. Nuka’s ceramic work is completely unique and exceptionally executed. This mat black vessel holds a beautifully sleek shape on its own. I imagine the shape being delicate shoulders and a slender neck. Atop the vessel Nuka has placed rows of small white figures that look like a cross between a spirit and a seal. These figures are places in rows that are reminiscent of the Nuilarmiut ; an essential piece of the greenlandic costume. This remarkable piece is the first borrowed work that we unboxed in the gallery. It was the first artwork that we installed as a team as such it gave me an incredible sense of inspiration for what we were about to accomplish. Simply for this fact this artwork will always have a special place in my heart from now on. 

Inuktut

ᕼᐊᑐᕐ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᐅᕐᑎ: ᐊᑎᖃᒃᐳᖓ ᕼᐊᑐᕐ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᐅᕐᑎᒥᒃ, ᓄᓇᑦᓯᐊᕗᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓅᐸᓪᓛᓐᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᕈᓚᐅᖅᐳᖓ ᕼᐊᐱ ᕚᓕ−ᒍᔅ ᕙᐃᒥ, ᓛᐸᑐᐊᒥ. ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᕗᖓ ᐱᓯᒪᒃᓯᔨᐅᖃᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᑖᔅᓱᒥᖓ ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᕕᒻᒥᑦ, ᐃᓄᐊ. ᐅᐱᒍᓱᑦᑎᐊᕆᕗᖓ ᐅᐸᒐᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᕋᒪ ᔨᔅᓯ ᑐᖏᓕᒃ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ 2019 ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᓇᔪᒐᖓᓂ ᑲᓐᑯᐊᑎᐊ ᓯᓚᒃᑐᖅᓴᕐᕕᒡᔪᐊᖓᓂ ᑕᕝᕙᓂᓗ ᐃᓕᓴᑎᑦᑎᔨᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐱᓕᕆᕕᖓᓂ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᓕᕆᓂᒻᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᑦᓱᒪᓂᓕᓴᕐᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᔨᔅᓯ ᓴᓇᓚᐅᕐᒪᑦ ᓇᑦᑎᕋᔭᒥᒃ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᒻᒥᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖁᕕᐋᓱᓐᓂᖅᐹᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᒋᓚᐅᕋᒃᑯ ᑖᔅᓱᒥᖓ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕆᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ. ᔭᐊᔅᓯ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᕝᕕᒋᓚᐅᕐᒪᖓ ᒫᓐᓇ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᓕᖅᑕᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᖃᓗᓐᓂᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ.

ᔨᔅᓯ ᑐᖏᓕᒃ: ᐃᓱᒪᓇᕐᓂᖓ “ᓇᑦᑎᕋᔭ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᐊᓐᓄᕋᒃ” ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒃᑯ ᓱᕈᓯᐅᑎᓪᓗᖓ. ᐊᓈᓇᒪ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓕᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᖓ ᑐᑦᑐᕋᔭᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᑦᑎᕋᔭᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᕈᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᓚᐅᕋᒪ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥ ᐃᒃᑮᓇᖅᑐᐋᓗᖕᒪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᕆᐊᖃᕐᓇᕐᒪᑦ ᐅᖅᑰᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᓃᕐᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂ. ᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᒦᖑᐊᖅᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᐊᑎᓯᓗᖓ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓂᒃ ᐊᓂᓂᐋᕐᓗᖓ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒧᑦ − ᐊᔪᕐᓇᓗᐋᖏᒻᒪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑐᒦᖑᐊᕆᐊᒃᓴᖅ ᓯᓚᖓᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᐅᑭᐅᖑᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᖅᑭᑦᑑᔭᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔭᖃᑎᖃᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒪ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᒋᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᓪᓗᐊᑕᓕᓐᓂᒃ. ᐱᒋᐊᓪᓚᕆᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᒍᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓇᓱᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓕᕆᒋᐊᓕᕐᓗᑕ ᐅᐸᒍᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒥ ᑭᒡᒐᖅᑐᐃᔨᑯᓐᓅᕐᓗᑕ ᓯᓚᑎᑦᑎᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖓᓂ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐋᓪ, ᑕᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᑦᑎᐊᓛᐅᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. ᑕᐅᓄᖓᖃᑎᖃᓚᐅᕋᑦᑕ ᐊᒥᓱᑲᓪᓚᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐋᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᕗᖓᕋᓱᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᖃᕐᓂᐋᕐᓗᑕ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᖃᑎᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ, ᑕᑯᔭᐃᓐᓇᕆᒋᐊᖅᑐᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᐋᓗᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐃᓱᒪᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ, ᐃᓱᒪᑖᕈᑎᒋᓚᐅᕋᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᕈᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᐅᑎᖃᓱᖑᒐᑦᑕ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔮᕆᒍᒪᒐᔭᖅᑕᑦᑎᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᔪᖏᖅᓴᖅᑕᐅᓗᐊᓱᖑᓚᐅᖏᓐᓇᖅᑕ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔭᖑᔪᒪᔪᓄᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᓂᕐᓂᖃᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᒧᐋᖅᑎᐅᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᐊᔭᐅᖅᑕᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᓚᐅᕋᑦᑕᓕ ᒪᑯᓄᖓ ᐃᖃᓇᐃᔮᓄᖅᑎᑕᐅᒐᓱᐊᕐᓗᑕ ᐃᒥᖅᑕᐅᑎᓂᒃ−ᐊᖁᑎᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᐅᔭᕋᓐᓂᐊᕐᕕᓕᕆᓂᕐᒧᑦ, ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓱᐊᖅᑎᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᒐᓚᓐᓄᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐅᕙᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑕᓐᓂᒃ − ᓴᖏᔫᓂᖅᓴᐅᑎᒋᐊᖃᓕᕐᓗᒍ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᕋ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑭᓱᓕᕆᔨᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᓕᕈᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᑐᐃᓐᓇᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᓇᓱᐋᓚᕆᓕᑐᐋᖅᐸᑕ ᐃᓱᒪᖃᕐᕕᒋᓗᒋᑦ. 

English

Heather Igloliorte: My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am Nunatsiavummiut and Newfoundlander, and I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labrador. I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition, INUA. I also had the great honour of hosting Jesse Tungilik during his 2019 artist residency at Concordia University where I am a professor in the department of art history. During that residency Jesse created the Sealskin Spacesuit, and I had the great pleasure of speaking with him about the creation of this work. Jesse spoke to me from his current home in Iqaluit, Nunavut.

Jesse Tungilik: The idea of the “Sealskin Spacesuit” came about when I was a little kid. My mother made me traditional outfits out of caribou and sealskin, and growing up in Rankin Inlet was very cold in the winter time so you had to dress up very warm to go out. I would always imagine myself putting on a spacesuit to go out into outer-space— it’s kind of easy to imagine outside in the Arctic in the wintertime. It kind of sprouted from that idea and then I worked with a team of Inuit and Inuit art specialists. We actually started in the research phase by going onsite to the Candian Space Agency just outside of Montreal, which was great. We brought a number of Inuit students to go there and speak with some people there, to see all the equipment and grounds which was pretty fascinating. As I was developing the concept, it really did make me think about growing up and how we talked about our dream careers, and so often we weren’t really encouraged to go for the exciting careers, like an astronaut. We were mostly pushed into fields like a water-truck driver, miner, fishermen or stuff like that. That’s something that was important to me when I was developing the concept— to really reinforce the idea that Inuit can be whatever they want if they really put their mind to it.

Inuktut

Uvanga atira Tiffany Larter. Inuvialuuyunga Uallinirmin. Aniyuami inuruqlungalu Nunatchiami. Ilatka Tuktuuyaqtuumin qaimayut. Ottawami inuuniaqtunga.

Angatkut, umayuat inuitmun

Uliqtuat inuum inuusitlu tamaita, qangma takunaqtut

isuma nannuit

Tamaita allauyuaq tan’ngit ukpingayuat qaiyuatlu uqaqtuat tupilaum uqausiitlu

inugiaktut allauyuaq isuma inuuyaq

tapqua kakinritlu Inuvialuktunlu

Tapqua inuusiq siniktuat sivituyumik

taimaunga

qangma tupaktuat

atautchikun nutaaq sivulliq malirutaksaq

Kiuyuaq kiaini nutqaqtuaq allauyuaq

Asulu, inuyuat Inuvialuit sivituyumik tapqua Angatkut utiqnaaktuat

inuvuut

isaktuaq isuma uvagut inuuniarvik

piliun isuma makaigaa, Inuvialuitlu

Asiin, utaqqiyavut Angatkut utiqnaktuat

Englis

Uvanga atira Tiffany Larter. Inuvialuuyunga Uallinirmin. Aniyuami inuruqlungalu Nunatchiami. Ilatka Tuktuuyaqtuumin qaimayut. Ottawami inuuniaqtunga. 

Angatkut, also known as shamans, used to figure amongst our people 

Ambiguous characters to be sure, but present 

And powerful like nannut

But all that changed when tan’ngit and their religions came and declared it paganism

Like so many other practices of our culture

Including kakinrit and Inuvialuktun

The practices slept for years 

For generations

But they are rising now

And integrating new things to old traditions

Responding to rather than rejecting change 

So, as long as the Inuvialuit exist it is possible for the Angatkut to return

to return to our way of life

to resume their role in our communities 

to reclaim their place that was taken from them, and from the Inuvialuit 

And so, we are waiting for the Angatkut to return 

Inuktut

ᕼᐃ ᓇᑲᓱᕗᖓ ᐊᓚᕆᐊᖅ. ᐃᓅᕗᖓ−ᐱᓐᓂᔅᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐱᔭᕇᒃᓯᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᓐᑎᐅᕆᔪᒥ ᐊᔪᖏᓛᖅ ᐱᔭᕆᒃᓯᒍᑎᓐᓂ (PhD). 

ᖁᕕᐊᒋᔭᖃᕋᒪᑦ ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐴᑑᒍᐅᑉ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᐅᑎᑦᑎᓚᕆᓐᓂᖏᑦ ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓘᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᒥᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᓴᖅᑕᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᒥᓂᕐᓂᒃ, ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑐᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᓇᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᐃᓄᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑖᔅᓱᒪ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᑦᑐᒃᑯᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᓯᖓᓄᑦ. ᓇᐸᑦᓯᐅᑉ ᓇᐃᑦᑑᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᒃᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᓯᓕᑦ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑐᑭᓯᓇᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᑕ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓄᐊᒫᓂᐊᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᒐᖃᓚᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᒥᑦ ᑕᐅᕙᓂᓗ ᑲᓱᖅᓯᒪᑎᑕᐅᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒃᑐᓇᐅᔭᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᐸᖅᑑᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᐃᒻᒪᑎᖓ ᓴᐃᒪᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᒻᒥᒃ. ᐃᒪᖃ ᑕᐅᑐᒐᖃᕐᓂᕐᒪᑦ ᓱᑲᓐᓇᖅᑐᓕᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐊᔭᖃᐅᑎᓂᑦ ᓱᑲᓐᓇᖅᑐᒨᕈᑎᓄᑦ, ᐅᖄᓚᐅᑎᓯᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᕋᑕᐅᔭᒃᑰᕈᑎᓄᑦ. ᓄᐊᒥᓂᐊ ᓇᒻᒥᓂᖅ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᕐᒪᑦ ᑭᖑᓪᓕᖅᐹᓂᒃ ᐊᖓᒃᑯᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᕐᒥ ᑕᐃᓐᓇᓗ ᓴᙱᔫᓚᐅᕐᒪᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᕆᓚᐅᕋᒃᑯ ᐊᓚᕆᐊᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓕᐊᖓ ᐊᓕᒍᖅ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᓪᓗ ᐊᖑᒃᑰᓚᐅᕐᒪᑎᒃ. ᐊᖑᑎᑦ ᐊᕐᓇᐃᓪᓗ ᐊᖓᒃᑰᔪᓐᓇᖅᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᖑᑕᐅᒐᔪᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓇᖓᓪᓕ ᐊᕐᓇᓂᑦ. ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᒐᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᕈᓐᓃᖅᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒃᐱᓐᓇᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᑕᕙᑦᑕᐅᑎᒋ ᑕᕙᐅᖂᔨᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓃᖅᑑᔭᓕᕐᓗᑎᒃ. 

English

Hi I am Nakasuk Alariaq. I am an Inuk-Finnish graduate student from Kinngait, Nunavut currently studying in Ontario for my PhD. 

I enjoy Napachie Pootoogook’s drawings because of their intimate connection to narrating and sharing the histories, stories and perspectives of Kinngait Inuit in her own unique style and way. Napachie’s short Inuktitut write up about this image explains that Namonai had a vision of the future where the homes were connected by rope lines and a red flag flew in the town. Perhaps he was envisioning power and cable lines for electricity, telephones and the internet. Namonai himself was one of the last angakkuq in the Kinngait region who was just as powerful as my great great grandfather Alariaq and his wife Aliguq, both anngakuit. Men and women were permitted to be anngakuit, but there tended to be more men than women. The drawing in pen and ink has fine details and textures, really giving the work depth and dimension.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Hi, my name is Nancy Saunders. I go by the artist name Niap. I’m originally from Kuujjuaq, Quebec, Nunavik, but I’ve been living in Montreal for ten years and I’m a multidisciplinary artist.

Katajjausivallaat is a project that came to mind the first time I carved, the first time I worked with soapstone. I liked the idea of trying to carve things that are intangible. The idea came to me where I wanted to see what it would look like if I tried carving throat-singing — not only into material form, but to bring throat-singing kind of mixed with the element that it imitates because throat-singing is an imitation of the  sounds of the nature, like the goose, the wind, the river.

I wanted to, at first, play with carving the throat singing, but then the audio element idea kind of came afterwards where I wanted to hear what it would sound like with the element that it’s imitating. So, I took my three favourite throat-songs and I associated them with stones. I used, here, a Brazilian soapstone, and it was really nice because it was three beautiful colours: the white, the pink, and the blue. I used those to represent the river, the wind, and then the dogsled. The idea to have the stone floating was to kind of give it this idea of weightlessness like the voice [like the song]. For the greenstone, I wanted the idea of water— how would the stone be affected if the river ran through it.

There’s also the element of the holes in the stone— there’s two holes that meet and that is the idea of the two women’s throats coming together to make one sound. For some reason, I associate Spring [the season] to pink, so with the pink stone I, again, imagined what the wind would look like if it was in material form. The same goes with the white stone, the Qimmiruliapik. With the dogsled, I was thinking about the actual sled scraping into the snow making these jagged marks as if it had passed right over the stone. I was very happy with the result, honestly. I had seen it in my head, you know, for about five years before I made it happen and I’m very happy with how it all turned out. 

Inuktut 

ᕼᐃ ᓇᑲᓱᕗᖓ ᐊᓚᕆᐊᖅ. ᐃᓅᕗᖓ−ᐱᓐᓂᔅᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐱᔭᕇᒃᓯᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᓐᑎᐅᕆᔪᒥ ᐊᔪᖏᓛᖅ ᐱᔭᕆᒃᓯᒍᑎᓐᓂ (PhD). 

ᑕᓐᓇ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᓄᓇᐅᑉ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓂᖓ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖃᕐᒪᑦ ᐸᑦᓗ ᐳᑦᓚᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓᓂ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᒥ ᑭᖑᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᐊᓯᕈᐃᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕐᓂᖅ−ᐊᓯᕈᕐᓗᓂ−ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᒐᐅᖔᓕᕐᓗᓂ ᖃᖓᑕᓱᙳᐊᖅ (1976) ᐱᔭᒃᓴᐅᓕᖅᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᕐᒪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᐅᒻᒪᕆᓕᓚᐅᕐᒪᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᖃᑎᒌᓱᓂᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒋᒍᑕᐅᓂᖓ ᐊᐅᓚᔾᔭᐃᒻᒪᑦ, ᐸᑦᓗ ᐱᖃᓯᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᓲᖑᐊᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᓯᐅᑎᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᒐᕙᒪᓕᕆᓂᕐᒨᖓᓗᐊᖏᒻᒪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᖅᓯᒪᓂᕐᒨᖓᑕᐃᓐᓇᓕᕐᓗᓂ. ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᐸᑦᓗᐅᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑕ ᐊᖏᔫᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᖑᐊᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᖃᐸᓗᒻᒪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᓱᖑᐊᑉ. ᐃᒻᒪᖃ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖃᕋᓱᐊᕐᒪᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓗᑦᑎᖅᓯᒪᓂᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓂᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᒃ ᒪᕐᕈᒃ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖏᑕ, ᖃᐅᔨᕙᓪᓕᐊᒐᓱᐋᕐᓗᒋᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᐸᓗᓐᓂᖏᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᖏᓐᓂᖏᒃ. ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᓄᓇᖓᑕ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᐅᔭᕋᓛᒐᓚᐅᒻᒪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᒪᑦᑎᐋᖅᑐᑎᒃ, ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓇᖅᓯᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᐅᔭᐅᒻᒪᖔᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᐃᒻᒪᖃ ᑭᖑᕙᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᐱᕐᖔᒃᑯᑦ. ᐊᕐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᑐᕐᒪᑕ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᓕᓴᕐᓂᒃ ᓯᕿᓐᓂᖅᑐᖅᓯᐅᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᒐᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᑐᖃᓯᐅᑎᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᖏᓐᓄᑦ (ᐊᕐᓇᐅᑉ ᐊᒪᐅᑎᖏᑦ), ᑲᒥᒃᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ (ᓇᑦᑎᕋᔭᓂᒃ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᑐᑦᑐᕋᔭᓂᒃ ᑲᒥᒃᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ) ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᑭᕚᑦ (ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓲᑎᒃ ᑲᑎᕙᑦ). ᐃᖃᓗᐃᑦ ᐊᖏᔫᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᖏᑦᑐᑯᓘᓗᑎᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖅ ᑕᑯᔅᓴᐅᓐᓇᑦᑎᐋᕐᓗᓂ ᑕᑯᕕᒃᓴᐅᓂᖓ. ᐊᖑᑎᐅᑉ ᑭᒡᓕᓕᒫᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᒍᓐᓇᕐᒪᑦ ᖄᖓᓃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐱᖒᑉ, ᑕᕐᕆᓯᒪᓗᓂ ᑐᓄᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓᑕ ᑎᒻᒥᐊᖅᓯᐅᕆᐊᓂᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᐅᓪᓗᑦᑎᐊᕙᐅᒋᐊᖃᕐᒪᑦ, ᐃᓅᓯᖅ ᓴᐃᓕᓇᖅᑐᒦᓪᓗᓂ. 

English

Hi I am Nakasuk Alariaq. I am an Inuk-Finnish graduate student from Kinngait, Nunavut currently studying in Ontario for my PhD. 

This is a traditional landscape scene Pudlo Pudlat drew a year after his revolutionary drawing-turned-to-print Aeroplane (1976) was released and caused quite the stir in the Inuit art community in Canada. Despite the discussions it stirred up, Pudlo including aeroplanes into his drawings was not so much political as it was for aesthetic purposes. Within Pudlo’s drawing is a large bird that resembles the shape of an aeroplane. Perhaps he is playing with the different shapes and figures between the two forms, exploring their similarities and differences. The northern landscape is rocky and detailed, indicating it must be summertime or perhaps late springtime. The women are wearing contemporary sunglasses, paired with their traditional amautiit (women’s packing parkas) , kamiit (sealskin or caribou skin boots) and kakivaat (fish harpoons). The fish are large and healthy, and the water is clear enough to see through. A man’s silhouette can be seen at the top of the hill, hidden behind a blind he built to go bird hunting. The day must be good, life is at ease. 

Inuktut

ᕼᐃ ᓇᑲᓱᕗᖓ ᐊᓚᕆᐊᖅ. ᐃᓅᕗᖓ−ᐱᓐᓂᔅᒥᐅᑕᐅᓪᓗᖓ ᐱᔭᕇᒃᓯᓯᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᖓ ᐊᓐᑎᐅᕆᔪᒥ ᐊᔪᖏᓛᖅ ᐱᔭᕆᒃᓯᒍᑎᓐᓂ (PhD). 

ᐸᑦᓗ ᐳᑦᓚᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᒥᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓂᕐᒥᓄᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ, ᐱᒋᐊᕈᑎᖃᕐᓗᓂ ᑎᒍᒥᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᒻᒧᓯᒪᓗᒍ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᑎᑎᓪᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᐃᒪᖃ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᓂᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᑐᓂᐋᓗᒻᒪᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓘᖑᐊᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᒪᑯᓂᖓ ᑕᐅᑐᒐᖃᕐᓗᓂ ᒪᕐᕉᓐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᖃᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᓐᓇᖑᐋᖑᓕᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᐊᖅᑎ ᐃᑭᒪᓗᓂ ᐅᒥᒻᒪᒻᒥ ᕿᒻᒥᖅ ᐸᖓᓕᖑᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᓴᓂᕌᓂ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖓ ᖃᖓᑕᓱᖑᐊᖅ ᖃᖓᑕᖑᐊᕐᓗᓂ ᑕᐅᕙᓂᖓ ᐅᖓᑖᓂ. ᐱᐅᒋᒐᒃᑭᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᒐᓕᐊᕆᓲᖏᑦ ᐴᑑᒎᖅ ᑭᖑᐊᑦᓯᐊᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᖏᑦ ᖃᖅᑲᖑᐋᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖏᑦᑐᑯᓗᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᒡᓕᓕᔭᕐᓂᖃᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᓗᑎᒃ ᐸᑦᓗᐅᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᓂᖏᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑕᒐᓕᐊᖑᓯᒪᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑎᒍ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂᖏᑎᒍ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᓂᖏᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᖏᑕ, ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓲᑎᒋᔭᐅᓗᐊᙳᐋᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᑦᓯᔨᒧᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐴᑑᒎᕐᒧᑦ, ᑖᓐᓇᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᐅᕈᑎᖃᓱᖑᒪᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕐᓂᐋᕐᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐅᕝᕙᓗᓂᑦ ᐊᓯᕈᓂᐊᕐᓗᓂᒋᑦ. ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᔪᒥᓃᑦ ᒪᓕᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᒪᑕ ᐊᒥᐊᖅᑎᓯᒪᔪᓕᐋᖑᓂᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᑕᐃᒫᖑᓪᓗᐊᑕᓱᖑᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᓴᓇᔭᒃᓴᐃᑦ, ᐊᒥᐊᖃᕐᓂᖏᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ. ᖃᖅᑲᖃᐅᓂᖓ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᒻᒪᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᓂᖓᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ “ᑭᙵᐃᑦ”, ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕐᓗᒍ “ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐱᖑᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᖅᑲᐃᑦ”. 

English

Hi I am Nakasuk Alariaq. I am an Inuk-Finnish graduate student from Kinngait, Nunavut currently studying in Ontario for my PhD. 

Pudlo Pudlat credits his pencil to the creation of his drawings, stating he simply holds the pencil to the paper and lets it control what happens. Perhaps this is why some of his drawings are very creative and playful, such as Vision of Two Worlds that depicts a hunter riding a muskox while a dog runs beside them, while his signature airplane flies in the background.  I like how the printmaker Pootoogook Kingwatsiak created the mountain range with their use of simple silhouettes when they translated Pudlo’s drawing to a print.  Through drawing artists had designed the form and content to the image, it was ultimately up to the printmakers, such as Pootoogook, who decided what to translate or change. Some of the considerations they made depended on printing medium, material, colour, and design.  The mountain range is an important fixture in a place known as “Kinngait”, which translates to “the place of many hills and mountains”.  

Inuktut

Inolisimajuk Happy Valley-Goose Bayimi, NL, Shirley Moorhouse Kanuittusuatuinnanik sanattiuvuk allanguattiutluni suliaKaKattatluni ukuninga attutausonut, nenittauKattajunut ammalu allanguattauKattajunut. Kaujimajauluattuk sanaKattajamminik ungammiutanik Kammamut, taimanganit 1996 Moorhouse takugatsaulaukKuk nanitsuatuinnak, tamâgennik nunatsualimâmi ammalu silatsuami. Kammamiutangit ungammiutait sanajaumatlutik inukuliuttauKattajunut, allasajak ammalu aminnut sanajautlutik nanituinnak Inuit Nunangat, Moorhousiup atjiKangitunik sanaKattajangit ilautitsinginnatuk sapanganik ammalu asigiallanginnik piusituKagijaungitunut piKutinik sananiattaminik. Atjikasângita, suliagiKattajamminik atjigettigasuanginnatanginnik ammalu aulaKattaninginnut. Ununningit sanajaumajut Kinnitalimmut ammalu Kanuittusuatuinnanik tauttuKatlutik sapangangit kaivallajunut ammalu iKungajunut. Pigiannimit uKautjigiajiusimajuk allanguattinut Nunatsiavummiunut, Moorhouse pigiasititsilauttuk allanguattet katitsutaumajunut 1996-imi atugunnagiamut nutânik pivitsanik iluani nunakKatigengitumi. Suliagijanga ilautitsivuk iluani NunaKakKâsimajuit Allanguattet katitsutaumajunut Atanik-NunaKakKâsimajuit IlinganiKajunut ammalu Taggami SuliatsagijauKattajunut Canadami akungani asigiallanullu.

Eng

My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition, and I am an Inuk and Newfoundlander from Nunatsiavut. I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Labrador.

Shirley Moorhouse also currently resides in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, where she and her husband raised their three daughters. Moorhouse works in many different art forms and this installation includes some of her best-known practices, making mixed-media wall hangings and sculptural forms. In this installation, To Honour the Firekeepers, made specifically for this exhibition, Moorhouse created two wall hangings: one which features materials that Inuit have worked with for centuries, such as smoked caribou skin and beads; while the other wall hanging is adorned of synthetic fabrics, electronic components, and even includes a trout made out of a deconstructed computer keyboard. The diptych is a rumination on how healthy and wild our ecosystem in Labrador has been until very recently, as well as how rapidly that seems to be changing in the present. On the left she recalls summers of her youth, fishing for wild trout with her mother; on the right she explains that the keyboard-trout now references the new testing measures made necessary by the threat of methylmercury poisoning, a concern brought about by hydroelectricity resource extraction in the region. The vibrant beaded ‘fire’ set between the two wall hangings honours those who have fought, and continue to fight, against this environmental destruction. In this way, Moorhouse’s installation is closely linked to that of other artists in the exhibition, like Bronson Jacque’s paintings that also focus on the Muskrat Falls hydroelectric dam, and Zacharias Kunuk’s four channel video installation, My Little Corner of Canada, which shines a light on resource extraction and its effects on our land and wildlife in Igloolik. As I was listening to Shirley talk about freely fishing with her mother as a child, I had a memory of being a little kid and cupping my hands together to drink straight from a stream during a hike with my father in Labrador, probably some time in the mid-eighties. I wouldn’t feel safe doing that now. Moorhouse said she hopes, and expects, that this installation will trigger similar memories in others. She said in a recent interview that when that happens, “your mind clicks into other places that you probably forgot you remembered. It's not only my memory, but a big well of memory that I’m trying to just put a little snapshot into, and let other people join in.”

Inuktut

Uvanga Jocelyn, ammalu Iqaluktuutiarmiutauyunga.

ᕼᓗᐅ, ᐊᑎᕋ ᔪᐊᔅᓯᓕᓐ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᓕᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᖃᑕᐅᕗᖓ ᐃᓅᓪᓗᖓ ᐃᖃᓗᒃᑑᑦᑎᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᓪᓚᕆᐅᕗᖓ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. 

ᐊᑐᕋᑖᓚᐅᖅᑐᓂ ᖁᓕᐅᔪᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᕆᐊᓕᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ ᓄᑖᖑᓛᓂᒃ ᑕᐅᑦᑐᓕᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᒥᓇᖅᓴᐅᑎᒐᓚᓐᓂᒃ. ᐱᑦᑎᐋᓕᓇᓱᐋᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓈᒻᒪᓈᖅᓯᑦᑎᐊᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᒡᒐᑦ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᕐᒪᑕ ᐅᔭᒥᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᕐᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᔭᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᓂ ᓴᓇᒍᓐᓇᕐᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓗᑎᒃ ᑐᑦᑑᑉ ᓇᒡᔪᖏᑦ, ᑑᒐᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᒃᓴᐃᑦ. ᑕᑯᒃᓴᐅᑎᑦᑎᓃᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᑦᑎᐊᕋᓱᐊᒻᒪᕆᓐᓂᕐᒥᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᓂᐋᖅᑕᒻᒥᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᔭᐅᑎᒍᒪᔭᒥᓐᓂᒃ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᑎᔭᒃᓴᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐱᔭᐅᑎᑦᑎᒻᒪᑕ ᐱᔪᒪᓂᖃᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᒍᑕᐅᓗᑎᒃ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓯᕗᓂᒃᓴᒥ ᑭᖑᕚᕆᔭᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓂᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᓂᐋᖅᑐᓄᑦ.

English

Uvanga Jocelyn, ammalu Iqaluktuutiarmiutauyunga.

Hello, my name is Jocelyn, and I am an Urban Inuk originally from Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. 

In recent decades, Inuit artists began designing contemporary forms of jewellery. With a careful and precise hand, artists created necklaces using tools and materials from what they have around them including caribou antler, ivory, and stone. A demonstration of the ingenuity of artists finding materials and vehicles for cultural expression, these wearable pieces of art serve as an inspiration to the current and future generation of Inuit designers.

Inuktut

ᕼᐃᐊᑐ ᐃᔨᓗᓕᐅᖅᑎ: ᕼᐃᐊᑐ ᐃᔨᓗᓕᐅᖅᑎ ᐊᑎᕆᔭᕋ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᔪᖓ ᐊᑖᑕᑉᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐅᕙᓐᓛᓐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᖓ ᐊᓈᓇᑉᑯᑦ, ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᕼᐋᐱ ᕚᓕ ᒎᔅ ᐸᐃᒥᑦ, ᓛᐳᕋᑐᐊᒥᑦ. ᓴᕆᒪᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑕᕋ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᒃᖠᑎᖅᖢᖓ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᔨᐅᖃᑕᐅᒐᒪ ᑖᑉᓱᒥᙵᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᓂᒃ, ᐃᓄᐊ (INUA). ᐃᓕᐅᖅᑲᐃᔪᒍᑦ ᒪᕋᒡᓚᖕᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓂᑦ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᑦ Matchbox Gallery-ᒥᑦ. Matchbox Gallery ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᖃᕐᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐅᒃᑯᐃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 1987-ᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᑲᔪᐃᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᓅᓕᖅᑐᖅ. ᔨᐊᓯ ᑐᖏᓕᒃ, ᓴᓇᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᕿᓯᐅᑉᓗᓂ ᓯᓚᖃᙱᑦᑐᒥᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᑦ ᐃᓚᐅᖕᒥᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᓂᑦ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕆᐊᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑑᑉᓗᓂ Matchbox Gallery-ᒥᑦ. ᐅᖃᖃᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᕋ ᐃᖃᓗᖕᓂᑦ, ᓄᓇᒋᓕᖅᑕᖓᓂᑦ, ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔪᕈᖕᓃᖅᓴᓕᓵᕐᓂᖓᑕ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᒥᒃᓵᓄᑦ.

ᔨᐊᓯ ᑐᖏᓕᒃ: ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ Matchbox-ᒥᑦ ᒪᒃᑯᒃᑐᒻᒪᕆᒃᑑᑉᓗᖓ, ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᙱᑦᑐᖓ ᖃᖓᓪᓚᑦᑖᖑᓚᐅᕐᒪᖔᑦ— ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᙱᑦᑐᖓᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓃᓕᓚᐅᕐᓂᕐᒪᖔᕐᒪ. ᐅᖃᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑰᖅᑕᒃᑲ ᐊᖓᔪᖅᑳᒃᖃ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕋᓱᒍᒪᓕᖅᖢᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᑦ Matchbox Gallery ᑕᐃᒪᑑᓚᐅᖅᖢᓂ. ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᕌᓂᒃᑳᖓᒪ Matchbox Gallery-ᒧᙵᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ, ᐃᒻᒪᖅᑳ 7-ᓂᒃ 8-ᓂᒡᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ. ᔨᒻ ᓲᓕ, ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᑉᓱᒥᙵᑦ, ᒪᕋᕐᒥᑦ ᑐᓂᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑖᖓ ᐃᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓂᖃᖅᑎᖦᖢᓂᖓ ᐋᓪᓕᕋᐅᔭᕐᒥᑦ. ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕆᐊᖃᕐᒪᖔᕐᒪ ᐅᖃᐅᔾᔪᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑖᖓ ᑕᑯᑎᑉᐸᒃᖢᓂᖓᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᓄᓕᐅᕈᖕᓇᕐᓂᒻᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᖅᑎᒥᐊᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑖᖓ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕈᒪᔭᒻᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᕿᓂᖅᓴᐃᔪᖕᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᓱᓇᓕᐅᕈᖕᓇᕐᓂᒻᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᑲᙵᑦ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᖅᑖᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓗᙱᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᖅᖢᖓ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᕆᔭᒻᓂᒃ. ᑐᑭᓯᑎᑦᑎᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᕙᒻᓄᑦ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᖃᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐅᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᓂᒃ. ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᓂᖃᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖓ ᑐᒡᕙᙵᑦ. 

English

Heather Igloliorte: My name is Heather Igloliorte, and I am an Inuk on my father’s side and a Newfoundlander on my mother’s side, and I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Labrador. I am very proud and humbled to be one the co-curators of this exhibition, INUA. This installation is of ceramics from the community of Rankin Inlet, and specifically at the Matchbox Gallery. Matchbox Gallery is an Inuit ceramics studio and exhibition space that opened in 1987 and has supported the creation and exhibition of Inuit art for decades. Jesse Tungilik, the artist who created the Sealskin Spacesuit also included in this exhibition, got his start as a very young artist in the Matchbox Gallery. He spoke to me from Iqaluit, where he now lives, about his early artistic training there.

Jesse Tungilik: I started at the Matchbox when I was very young, I can’t remember exactly when— I can’t even remember exactly how I ended up there. I think I mentioned to my parents that I was interested in trying out different art forms and I think Rankin’s Matchbox Gallery was the only gallery space available. I would go to the Matchbox after school, I think that started when I was about seven or eight years old. Jim Shirley, who owned the studio, would give me some clay and give me space on a table. He would give me some pointers here and there and show me some useful techniques, but for the most part he would just let me do what I wanted. That really allowed me to explore my creativity and it gave me enough structure to be able to gain some skills and become a little bit more confident in my abilities. It was my introduction to the professional art world. I have some really great memories from it. 

Inuktut translation coming soon

My name is Heather Igloliorte, I am an Inuk from Nunatsiavut and a Newfoundlander, and I grew up in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labrador. I am one of the co-curators of this exhibition. There are a number of “Unidentified Artists” included in this exhibition. We call these artists Unidentified, rather than Unknown, because they are still our kin, our relations, our community members and ancestors; they are known to us even if we do not yet know their names. The lack of attribution on artworks made in the mid-twentieth century and earlier is often the result of a lack of detailed information on the collector’s part: the person who either purchased the work a long time ago, or who donated works to a museum or gallery that they had collected decades prior. Sometimes this information was once known, but the documentation has since been lost; in some cases it was not documented to begin with. That is a part of our shared colonial history, that the identification of Indigenous artists was not always important to collectors and therefore, there are many works in institutions across Canada and all over the world still waiting to be identified. Nonetheless, these are not nameless works of art. They bear the signature of their makers in other ways, such as through a particular way of carving an earlobe or eyelashes, or a unique approach to embroidering the trim on a doll’s parka. We hope in time as more Inuit get access to these collections, and more people get to see and appreciate these works, that these

signatures will be recognized and their makers will become known. Until that time, we appreciate and hold up these works by our ancestors and continue to shine a light on this history, so we can do better in the present and future.

Inuktut

ᕼᐊᓘ, ᓂᑳᓪ ᓘᒃ ᐊᑎᕆᔭᕋ. ᖃᑕᙳᑎᒃᑲᑦ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᒑᕐᔪᖕᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑲᖏᖅᖠᓂᕐᒥᑦ. ᐅᐃᓂᐲᒡᒥᐅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖓ ᐃᓅᓯᓗᒃᑖᕐᓚᒻᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᕆᒪᓱᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖓ ᓯᕗᓕᐅᖅᑎᐅᒐᒪ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᐊᕐᓂᖓᓄ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑏᑦ ᐃᓄᐊ-ᒧᑦ (INUA), ᖃᐅᒪᔫᑉ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑕᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᓄᑦ. ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕋ ᖃᕆᑕᐅᔭᒃᑯᑦ ᐆᒃᑑᑕᐅᖅᑲᐅᑕᐅᔪᓕᐅᕐᓗᖓ, ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᐊᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᑐᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑎᒃᓴᓕᐅᕐᓗᖓ ᐃᑲᔪᐃᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᔭᐅᓂᖓᑕ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑏᑦ.

ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᖓᓂᐊᕐᓂᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᖃᖃᑎᖃᙱᖦᖢᖓ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᔨᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᑉᓗᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᐊᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᓛᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᔪᕐᓇᖅᑑᔪᖕᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᕐᕕᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑎᒃᓴᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᔭᕌᖓᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑉᓗᒋᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᖓᓂᐊᕐᓂᖏᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᓛᖑᔪᖕᓇᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᐅᒃᑯᐃᖅᓯᔪᖕᓇᖃᑦᑕᕐᒪᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᖕᓇᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᔪᙱᓐᓂᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᑉᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᕋᓗᖕᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᖃᕐᕕᐅᔪᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᑲᔪᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓂᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑕᐅᔪᖅ. ᐃᓚᐅᔪᑦ ᑐᙵᕕᖏᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᖕᒥᒃᑯᑦ ᓇᑉᐸᖓᔪᑦ ᓴᓂᕋᐃᑦ. ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᒋᔭᕗᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᒪᐅᑏᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒪᓂᖏᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᖏᑦ ᑲᒃᑭᓃᑦ. ᐅᕙᑉᑎᖕᓂᒃ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᒍᑦ, “ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓚᐅᑎᑦᑐᖕᓇᖅᐱᑎᒍᑦ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᖓᓂᐊᕐᓂᕆᔭᖓᓄᑦ ᐃᓂᐅᔫᑉ?” ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓂᕋᓂᒃ “Y”-ᖑᑉᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ “V”-ᖑᑉᓗᑎᒃ, ᐊᔾᔨᕐᓚᖏᑦ ᑲᑭᓐᓂᐅᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ. ᓴᓂᕋᐃᑦ ᒥᑭᓂᖅᓴᒥᒃ ᐃᓂᓕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᔪᐊᓗᖕᒥᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥᑦ ᐅᔾᔨᕆᔭᐅᖅᑲᑦᑕᖅᖢᑎᒃ/ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᖅ ᐅᔾᔨᕆᔭᐅᑉᓗᓂ ᓴᓂᕋᐃᑦ ᐃᓱᖏᓐᓃᑦᑐᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓐᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑕᐅᓚᐅᕐᒥᔪᖅ. ᓯᑯᐃᑦ ᓯᖁᒥᓯᒪᔪᑑᖅᑐᑦ ᑐᙵᕕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᓚᐅᖅᑕᒃᑲ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒃᓯᕙᕝᕖᑦ ᐅᔭᖅᑲᑎᑐᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓯᒪᑉᓗᑎᒃ.

ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᖃᑉᓯᐊᕐᔪᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᒃᓴᖅᓯᐅᕈᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᑐᕌᒐᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑦᑎᓂᐊᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᕐᓚᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᑦ ᐱᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᖓᓂᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᑐᕌᒐᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᑐᓚᐅᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᐅᒥᐊᕐᔪᐊᓂᒃ ᐅᓯᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓕᔭᐅᔪᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖃᑖᓄᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖓᓂᒃ ᒥᑭᔪᖅ ᒪᖃᐃᓐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᕐᔪᐊᕋᓛᕐᒥᑦ. ᖃᓄᐃᖓᓂᐊᕐᓂᖓᓕᕆᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᒧᑦ, ᐋᖅᑭᒃᓱᐃᔩᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖏᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐃᖕᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᐋᖅᑭᐅᒪᓂᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᑦᑑᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᓂᒃ ᐃᖕᒥᖕᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕈᑎᖃᖅᑎᑦᑎᖕᒥᔪᖅ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕆᒃᑲᓐᓂᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᑐᓂ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᑎᓗᒃᑖᓄᑦ.

English

Hello, my name is Nicole Luke. My family is from Chesterfield Inlet and Rankin Inlet Nunavut. I have been living in Winnipeg for most of my life and I am very proud to be the lead exhibition designer for INUA, Qaumajuq’s inaugural exhibition. My role was to digitally draft, model, and create culturally relevant ideas that assist in the development of the exhibition.

The design started out with conversations with the curators. Starting a project can sometimes be hard when the starting point is a list of ideas and imagining outcomes, but it can also be the most exciting because it opens up infinite possibilities. Starting off, we discussed typical components within art galleries and how they inform the space and art. This includes plinths, platforms, and free-standing walls. We then discussed cultural components that have significance to us such as the curvature of an amauti, a traditional women’s parka that carries a child within the hood, and the linework of traditional tattoos. We started asking ourselves, “What are ways to incorporate cultural relevance into the physical design of the space?” This led to the creation of walls shaped like Y’s and V’s, similar to the designs of traditional tattoos. These walls created smaller spaces within the expansive gallery which also drew attention/focus towards the piece within the wall corners. Inuit Nunangat landscape was another source of inspiration. Ice breaks influenced the shape of the platforms I sketched and the seating is evocative of rock formations.

These are just a few ideas driven by the goal to create familiar qualities of Inuit Nunangat within the exhibition design. This goal also informed the use of a shipping container for one installation and the replication of a small hunting cabin for another. Throughout the design phase of the exhibition design, the curators noted the importance of the pieces speaking to each other. The influence of the circumpolar world on the design further allows the artworks to speak to each other which enriches the meaning of each piece and the exhibition as a whole.

Inuktut

Atelihai, Bronson Jacque-iuvunga amma Inovunga Allanguattiutlunga KipukKamit, Nunatsiavut. AllanguaKattajakkanik, unikkâgumavunga inunnik ammalu iniujunut Kanitaganettunut, atjiKalunnanga ammalu sulitsialungalu mânnaluatsiangujumut ammalu ikKaumajakkanik pigasuaniagama. Minguagiamut pigumaKattavunga. Piutsavunga inosigijanganik angutigijausomut atulluni utsualulimik tupitsajammut minguagiamut. Iluani Inigijaganik, “Tainna Nigumipvik Illukuluk,” allangualaukKunga atusimajannik suliatsagilauttaganik Muskrat kogâlungani. TakunnâluagumalaukKunga pasigatsauniganik ammalu uKumaittoKattaninga ippiniagutigiKattajaganik taikkununga uvannik pikKujilauttunut inogasuagiamut, piusiKasimajunut sujuttausimajunut inosigijangit. Tunitsilunga taimâk piusigijaujumut ippinialaukKunga piujualummik piusiKalluni takutitsilunillu piusigijamitigut kamagijaujunut. Pigutsataugavit nunatsuami, pigutsataulluni sulijugijaulluni ammalu paitsiutigillugu, suliaKagiaKalluni sujuijumut, attuisiammagiKattajuk ilinnik. Ikittunik pivitsaKalluni suliatsanut Labradorimi ammalu ilonnakasânginnik Taggami, inuinikkua KimattauKattavut suliatsanik pivitsaKatsialugatik. Tamanna pigiallaviKattisiKattalungituk suliatsanik isumagijamminik ikajutsijumut asinginnik pivitsaKattitaugajagutta. Tânna nunatsuak sollu ilagengujuk, ilangagijaujuk nunagijattinik, uvattinik pigutsaijuk apigilugani sunamillonet Kinulugani tâvatuak sulijugijaugumatuinnatuk. KanuttogutiKavunga pulâgiajunut INUA-imut takugiattujunut minguasimajaganik, attutaugajattut ilukkut takutsaujunut ammalu isumajâgutiKallutik apomautigijaujunut mânnaluatsiak Taggamejunut, ammalu sunait sulitsiatumik inigilittavuttinik mânnaluatsiak.

English

Hello, my name is Bronson Jacque and I am an Inuit Artist from Postville, Nunatsiavut.

With my  art, I want to tell the stories of the people and the places around me, to be as genuine and true to  the moments and memories as I can be. Painting is my way of doing this. I love the depth of  personality that can be achieved with oil on canvas.

In my Diptych, “The Warmup Shack,” I  drew from my experience working as a labourer in Muskrat Falls. I wanted to focus on the guilt and tension felt by those who are forced to earn a living, in ways that destroy their way of life.

Presenting this in a Diptych format felt like the perfect way to show the duality being dealt with. When you grow up on the land, being raised to respect and protect it, having to work in a way which is destructive, deeply affects you. With few career opportunities in Labrador and much of the North, people are left with little job choice. This forces us to take jobs that we would not consider supporting if we had a choice. The land is like a family member, it’s a part of our  community, it raises us without asking anything but respect in return.

I hope that when visitors come to INUA see my painting, they can relate to the emotions on display and consider the challenges we  currently face in the North, and what has honestly led us to this point.

Inuktut translation coming soon

Uvanga Jocelyn, ammalu Iqaluktuutiarmiutauyunga.

Hello, my name is Jocelyn, and I am an Urban Inuk originally from Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. 

Aoudla Pudlat was a Kinngait artist who had become known for his highly stylistic prints of a variety of birds – such as this one, who has set its sight on going boldly where no other bird has flown before. Aoudla’s graphic works hearken to the Inuit artists who first began producing colourful prints and drawings in the Kinngait Co-op – artists like Kenojuak Ashevak – but Aoudla has managed to bring to these prints a sense of movement and strength through dark lines and bright colours.