Makkuusi Qalingo Angutiggiq
Untitled (Snowy owl)
Out of the many sculptures that were brought from Inukjuak and Puvirnituq, Nunavik, QC, to the Canadian Guild of Crafts in Montreal in 1953, this piece is special. Carved by Makkuusi Qalingo Angutiggiq (1899–1986) in 1950, it was among a small selection of three works purchased by then-curator of Ancient Cultures of the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (MMFA), Frederick Cleveland Morgan. Morgan had been impressed by the aesthetic qualities of this ukpik and its companions, and he urged the museum in a letter to purchase the work, making the case for the museum to begin collecting Inuit art more broadly. This ukpik, snowy owl, holds special status not only for the beauty of its form, but also for being one of the very first pieces that began the collection of Inuit art by the museum.
Makkuusi and this sculpture hail from a moment of transition. Born in 1899, Makkuusi grew up in family camps near Kangirsuruaq, Nunavik, QC, and the river Kuugaaluk, both south of Puvirnituq, where he would have met the intrepid painter James Houston, the man who brought our ukpik to Montreal. Makkuusi and his brother-in-law, Koperqualuk—my grandfather—stayed together and shared the responsibilities of upkeeping the family camp. Life on the land grew more difficult with famine and infection, and the establishment of a Hudson’s Bay Company trading post meant easier availability of flour, tea and other foodstuffs to combat the region’s food insecurity. Only in 1952, when the trading post established itself there permanently, did Inuit begin to gravitate towards the community and settle in Puvirnituq.
With low prices for furs at the time of the migration to Puvirnituq, many Inuit turned to sculpting for another opportunity to make money. Though Makkuusi sculpted infrequently, he was among those that carved to earn an income so he could buy food and goods at the trading post. For Inuit artists who carved culture into art, the outside world’s new interest in Inuit art was encouraging. It was an opportunity to begin a path toward their dream of having control over the economy in Inuit Nunangat, which has been gradually realized over several decades through the co-operative movement, such as the Co-operative Association of Puvrinituq.
The deftness with which Makkuusi carved ukpik illustrates that this was not the first time he had made a sculpture. The bird is stylistic and minimal in detail, still conveying that it is a snowy owl whose head has the capacity to make a complete turn. The colour of the steatite demonstrates a keen aesthetic eye, and accentuates the beauty of his style. Makkuusi’s ukpik shows a transformation taking place in Inuit sculpture: in the past, during the time of angakuuniq (being shaman), he would have been making smaller, amuletsized sculptures to append to clothing—on shaman’s belts and on hoods—to protect loved ones from malevolent spirits and illness, or to bring strength to a hunter. Amulets of the past, from what I have seen, were made in the likeness of big or small mammals, like whales or birds, and it’s not difficult to see the connecting lines to the larger carvings collected today.
I knew Makkuusi when I was a little girl— he was my grandmother Lydia Angutiggiq Koperqualuk’s older brother—and whenever he saw me, he would give me a loving mmp!, which is our endearment sound. Yet he seemed very stern, so my little eyes thought they saw someone very gruff. I think back now, however, to his love and affection. My work as curator and mediator of Inuit art at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts helped me take a closer look at his ukpik and rekindled fond memories of him and others like him—people I knew and loved and have learned even more from in the years since they have been gone. Like many other Inuit men and women of Puvirnituq, Makkuusi made several pieces that have been exhibited in museums and galleries across Canada, and through his art, contributed to the betterment and well-being of his community. His ability to create a beautiful sculpture reveals an artistic side that I was unable to see when I was a little girl—a softer, more creative side hidden in a man of resolve and strength. I often think about his time, when our people had to work very hard against the unforgiving circumstances that nature and the new relations with settlers imposed upon us, and I am proud of their fortitude and resilience.
This ukpik, snowy owl, holds special status not only for the beauty of its form, but also for being one of the very first pieces that began the collection of Inuit art by the Museum.