Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami
By displaying artwork made by Inuit, ITK hoped to offer familiarity, even comfort, to their staff, stakeholders and visitors.
Picture a typical office environment: subdued hues of white, beige or grey. That soft humming of the overhead fluorescent tube lighting. Cubicle after cubicle, in long corridors, with low ceiling heights. Not an ideal space for organizing an exhibition, but when life gives you lemons you make lemonade, as the saying goes. The offices of Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK) in Ottawa, ON, are no exception when it comes to office space design—however, the organization devoted to furthering Inuit political and social interests planned to improve the space itself by updating the artwork on their walls, strengthening a sense of their identity and mission. By displaying artwork made by Inuit, ITK hoped to offer familiarity, even comfort, to their staff, stakeholders and visitors.
Founded officially in February 1971, Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami is a non-profit organization representing Canadian Inuit from across the varying regions. For five decades, they have been the main lobbyists for Inuit voices within various levels of the Canadian government. To celebrate their various achievements since their beginning, I was given the opportunity to work with their small fine arts collection, and combine it with loans from the very large public collection of the Indigenous Art Centre (IAC)—a department under CrownIndigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada—to develop two exhibitions that reflect Inuit excellence and cultural sovereignty through art. As I’ve hinted, choosing the works was a challenge as I felt I needed to
find a balance between works that would represent Inuit while giving a sense that Inuit art is a diverse discipline. Curating for an unconventional space meant that in a pragmatic sense, I had to think outside the box—while still being in a box, so to speak. Placement of two dimensional works such as prints and drawings was challenging, as I learned. I had to take into consideration the height of office chairs in order to protect the art from being accidentally bumped into. Three-dimensional works, such as sculptures, baskets or dolls required protective casings and the pieces themselves had to be quite stable so as not to tip over. These may seem like common-sense risks to anticipate, but they can often be overlooked when planning an exhibition in unusual circumstances. As difficult as it was, my favourite part of curating is choosing the pieces. For this project, I searched for works that would showcase the strength of Inuit cultural identity, while trying to give a sense of ITK’s mandate and mission. One of the key pieces to this exhibition is a 1992 lithograph Nunavut—Our Land by Kenojuak Ashevak, CC, RCA (1927– 2013), which was created to commemorate the signing of the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement. Ashevak seamlessly outlines the six seasons in the Canadian Arctic in circular fashion, imitating the world as it orbits the sun and moon; she further adds the various family activities and particular animals that would be found during the specific seasons. Through this work, Ashevak has outlined what matters most to Inuit: family, the lands that Inuit live on and an awareness and respect for the animals that live on these lands. This piece provides a great reminder for ITK and their visitors of these ideas, which can also be found in Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit. I have a soft spot for photographic works, which stems from my own artistic background in film and photography, and I was intrigued by the digital works of Chris P. Sampson and Kayley Mackay. At first glance, Sampson’s architectural photograph Untitled, Kuujjuaq (2008) can be seen as somewhat lacking in interest; however, I felt it was exemplary of the everyday life not only in Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, but in many other communities where these structures and materials are familiar to Inuit. A similar feeling is found in Kayley Mackay’s Bumpy Ride (2008), where we can imagine ourselves sitting in the back of this qamutiq, riding along the land. Both of these images give a modern view of life in the North—all while pushing the boundaries of what Inuit art means. Their photographs are
an inspiration for future Inuit artists.
Other highlights from the IAC collection include artists from across the four regions of Inuit Nunangat—from Heather Campbell’s colourful pen and ink drawing Ground Cover (2017), showing mossy lichens and other plant life from Nunatsiavut; to the tightly woven Sea Grass Basket (1999) from the Nunavik region, created by Elisapee Weetaluktuk; to the graceful pair of Nesting Swans (1997), made of muskox horn and resting on caribou antler, carved by Inuvialuit artist William Gruben, and everything in between.
Of the works in the small, but growing, collection that ITK has acquired throughout the years through donations and gifts, there were a few gems that were uncovered.
One of these being a woven tapestry from Panniqtuuq (Pangnirtung), NU, by artists Malaya Akulukjuk (1915–1995) and Olassie Akulukjuk titled Boy Chases Girl (c. 1980s). Woven with bright colours, this tapestry shows the playfulness of two Inuit children and serves as a reminder of how important children and families are for Inuit.
It came as no surprise to find some works by Alootook Ipellie (1951–2007), as he had been a contributor to ITK’s Inuktitut magazine and Inuit Monthly during the mid-1970s and 80s. His writing and satirical drawings discussed many of the same issues that Inuit still face today. One untitled ink drawing of a large hawk (or eagle) so close to catching its prey, a young hare, made my jaw drop. Behind this bird of prey is a full moon. I’ve always admired the way that Ipellie would use pen and ink to create simple yet moving images. Imagery involving hunting and the animals of the Arctic are a prominent theme, and one that fits ITK’s ongoing support of Inuit hunters and their commitment to improving food security.
During my time developing this project and reading the history of ITK in order to better understand just how far they have come since their inception, I took to reading many of the stories and poems by Alootook Ipellie—and would like to conclude with some of his words from his article “The Colonization of the Arctic”:
“Despite having experienced incalculable injustices to their traditional culture and language, the Inuit will wake tomorrow with their chests thrust forward and their heads held high. They will end the nightmares of the past and once again dream some wonderful dreams for the future.”¹
I hope that working among these pieces of Inuit art inspires ITK staff and visiting stakeholders and highlights the importance of art in all areas of life. Many of these works were developed through the Inuit co-operative movements and each tells a story of Inuit cultural resiliency and self-determination, with dreams for the future.
NOTES
1 Alootook Ipellie, “The Colonization of the Arctic,” in Indigena: Contemporary Native Perspectives in Canadian Art, eds. Gerald McMaster and Lee-Ann Martin (Craftsman House, 1992), 57.