Re­vis­it­ing An­nie Pootoo­gook: The Spirit, the Self and Other Sto­ries

ᑎᑎᕋᐅᓯᕆᑲᓐᓂᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ

Inuit Art Quarterly - - CONTENTS - by Caoimhe Mor­gan-Feir

This award-win­ning artist took the Inuit art world by storm with her stir­ring, evoca­tive graphic works. As a re­sult, her artis­tic legacy has been de­fined by her me­te­oric and un­prece­dented rise to global fame. In this piece, the lesser­known cur­rents of Pootoo­gook’s oeu­vre are ex­plored, pro­vid­ing a new lens through which to con­sider the pro­found im­pact of her work.

The Spirit, the Self and Other Sto­ries

Shop­ping at the co-op, a Cole­man stove flanked by Robin Hood flour and salt, ten­der fam­ily por­traits and in­te­rior scenes of feast­ing or loung­ing in front of the tele­vi­sion, or per­haps of some­thing darker—these are some of the now iconic images that have come to de­fine the re­mark­able oeu­vre of cel­e­brated graphic artist An­nie Pootoo­gook (1969–2016). What have been ar­guably less con­sid­ered, how­ever, are her psy­cho­log­i­cal self-por­traits, de­fined by their com­plex spir­i­tual iconog­ra­phy and re­turned to again and again by the artist over her brief but pro­lific ca­reer.

ᑕᕐᓂᖅ, ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ

ᓂᐅᕕᕆᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑯᐊᐸᒃᑯᓂ, ᐅᓇ ᓱᐴᔫᖅ ᓴᓂᐊᓂᓗ ᐸᓚᐅᒑᒃᓴᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᕆᐅᖅ, ᓯᓚᒥ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ

ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᓂᕆᔪᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᖅᑐᑦ, ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑖᖅᓂᖅᓴᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᒋᕗᖅ - ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓚᖏ ᒫᓐᓇ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖏ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑐᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1969–2016). ᐅᓇ ᐊᐃᕙᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᒥᑭᓂᖅᓴᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᔭᒥᓂᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑦᑎᐊᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑦᑑᑎ ᑕᕐᓂᒥ ᑐᑭᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑎᖅᕕᒌᓐᓇᐹ ᓴᓇᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑖᓗᒋᕙᓚᐅᖅ ᑕᖕᒋᑦ ᐱᓇᔪᒃᕕᕐᒐ ᓇᐃᑦᓘᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᑦᓗᒍ.

Years ago, when I was work­ing at an art gallery, I was sur­prised when a po­ten­tial do­na­tion was re­jected by the cu­ra­to­rial staff. They felt that the work wasn’t a strong example of that artist’s par­tic­u­lar prac­tice, which is a com­mon enough line of think­ing. But I won­der how these im­pres­sions are shaped—what con­sti­tutes an oeu­vre’s strength? The enor­mous con­tri­bu­tion that An­nie Pootoo­gook made to con­tem­po­rary draw­ing is a topic of universal agree­ment. Few artists have gar­nered the amount of at­ten­tion in the Cana­dian me­dia that Pootoo­gook se­cured; no other con­tem­po­rary artist’s per­sonal life has re­ceived the scru­tiny that hers did. The fact that she cap­tured life in the North dur­ing a time of tran­si­tion, un­flinch­ingly de­pict­ing even the hard­est as­pects of these changes, is the best-known in­ter­pre­ta­tion of her work. But per­haps re­ar­rang­ing our men­tal fur­ni­ture can al­low for a dif­fer­ent un­der­stand­ing of the life that Pootoo­gook pre­sented.

Most of the de­tails of her bi­og­ra­phy (well-worn ter­ri­tory by now) are easy to agree upon. On a May day in 1969, An­nie Pootoo­gook was born into a lin­eage of artists. Her mother, Na­pachie Pootoo­gook (1938–2002), and her ma­ter­nal grand­mother, Pit­se­o­lak Ashoona, CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), were trail­blaz­ing artists in their own right (among many other mem­bers of Pootoo­gook’s ex­tended fam­ily).

But their in­flu­ence wouldn’t sur­face in Pootoo­gook for al­most 30 years. An­nie Pootoo­gook was a great artist, but she wasn’t a prodigy. She had liv­ing to do, in­clud­ing a move to Nu­navik, be­fore she re­turned to Kin­ngait (Cape Dorset), NU, in the mid-1990s and en­tered the stu­dio, agree­ing to work on draw­ings at home and to bring them in for the twice-weekly sales.

Pootoo­gook be­gan draw­ing in the West Baf­fin Eskimo Co­op­er­a­tive in earnest in 1997. Her work quickly caught the at­ten­tion of William Ritchie, who was then the Arts Ad­viser at the stu­dio. “I see so much that some­times it all kind of looks the same, but An­nie’s didn’t,” re­mem­bers Ritchie. “It was dif­fer­ent, but An­nie wasn’t an anom­aly. [Her work] was like her mother’s. . . . I’ve worked with Na­pachie. I’ve worked with Kanang­i­nak [Pootoo­gook, RCA (1935–2010)]. I’d seen Itee [Pootoo­gook (1951–2014)]’s work. So, to see An­nie come along in this vein, it made to­tal sense.” When dealer Pat Fe­he­ley made a trip north to catch up on the lat­est work, Ritchie sug­gested she take a look at the draw­ings in Pootoo­gook’s shelf. “I looked through them, and I thought they were stun­ning,” re­calls Fe­he­ley. “I lit­er­ally went across the road to Jimmy Man­ning, who was at that point the Stu­dio Man­ager, and said, ‘I have to break the rules, be­cause I have got to get An­nie Pootoo­gook in my show,’ and he said, ‘You will never sell those.’” That story, or ver­sions of it, has be­come canon.

Fe­he­ley’s in­clu­sion of Pootoo­gook’s work in The Un­ex­pected (2002) was an im­me­di­ate suc­cess—all the pieces sold—and the artist’s first solo ex­hi­bi­tion quickly fol­lowed at the gallery in 2003. The next three years were an in­cred­i­bly pro­duc­tive time and larger shows and ac­co­lades fol­lowed: Pootoo­gook was awarded the Sobey Art Award in 2006 (still to­day it is hard to imag­ine that just three

ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᑐᑦ, ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᖅᑎᓪᓗᖓ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ, ᑲᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐊᑭᑐᔪᖅ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓇᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᒪᓐᖏᓪᖢᓂ

ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔭᖅᑎᖏᓐᓂᑦ. ᐃᒃᐱᒍᓱᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ

ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᖕᖐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᐆᒃᑑᑎᒋᔭᕆᐊᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᔾᔪᓯᖓᓄᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᔪᒃᑲᒥᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᕙᖕᒪᑕ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ. ᐃᓱᒪᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᖏ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᖕᒪᖔᑕ— ᖃᓄᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᕙ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᖓᑕ ᓴᖕᖏᓂᖓ? ᐊᖕᖏᓂᖅᐹᖅ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᐋᓗᒃ ᑕᒪᐃᓐᓂᑦ ᑐᓂᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᒫᓐᓇᒧᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᐅᓕᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᕗᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥ ᐊᖕᖏᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐊᒥᓲᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᕐᔪᐊᖑᑎᒋᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ

ᐊᓯᐊᓂᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑐᓴᐅᑎᓕᕆᔨᓂᑦ ᐅᓇ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐋᕿᒍᑎᑦᑎᐊᕈᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ; ᐱᑕᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ ᓱᑯᓴᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖃᓐᖏᓚᖅ ᑖᓐᓇᑐᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐃᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. ᓱᓕᕗᖅ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑕᑎᓐᓂᒃ

ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ ᑕᐃᓱᒪᓂ ᐊᓯᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᑕᐅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ, ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᓚᐅᓐᖏᑐᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᐹᖑᒐᓗᐊᖅᐸᑕ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᖓᔪᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᓯᑦᔨᕈᑎᔪᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᒍᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐋᕿᒋᐊᑲᓐᓂᑐᐃᓐᓇᕐᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓱᒪᓂᖅᐳᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑕᐅᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓇᓱᒋᓚᐅᓐᖏᑕᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᕐ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑎᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᒍᑦ.

ᑕᒪᕐᒥᑦᑎᐊᐸᓗᒃ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ ( ᒫᓐᓇᐃᔪᖅ ᖃᐃᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᑑᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ) ᐊᖕᖏᖃᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᒐᒥᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᖕᒪᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᒪᐃ ᐅᓪᓗᕐᒥ 1969, ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ

ᐃᓅᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂ. ᐊᓈᓇᖓ, ᓇᐸᑦᓯ

ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1938–2002), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓵᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓ, ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᐊᓲᓇ,

CM, RCA (c. 1904–1983), ᐃᒻᒪᑲᓪᓚᓂᒃ ᓄᑖᓂᒃ ᐊᖁᓯᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒍᑦ ( ᐊᕙᑖᓂ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐳᑐᒍᒃᑯᑦ ᖃᑕᖑᑎᑲᓐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ). ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᔪᕆᖓᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑐᓐᓇᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑖᑉᓱᑎᑐᓇᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᖃᓂᒋᔮᓂ 30 ᐅᑭᐅᓄᑦ. ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᓄᑲᖅᖠᐹᖑᒐᓗᐊᕋᒥ ᐱᓯᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᐃᓅᓯᒃᓴᖃᓚᐅᕋᒥ, ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓅᓪᖢᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᑯᐸᐃᖕᒧᑦ, ᐅᑎᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᑭᓐᖓᓄᑦ, ᓄᓇᕗᑦ, ᑭᑎᐊᓂ 1990-ᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓯᖅᖢᒍ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᒃ, ᐊᖕᖏᖅᖢᓂ ᓴᓇᖁᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓗᓂ ᐊᖕᖏᕋᒥᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᑉᐸᒡᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᓂᓗᒋᑦ ᒪᕐᕈᐃᕐᓗᓂ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕈᓯᕐᒥ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᓯᔭᕌᖓᑕ.

ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ ᑯᐊᑉᐸᖓ

ᑯᐊᑉ ᐅᓄᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 1997. ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐱᔪᒪᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᒍᓕᐊᒻ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔨᒋᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ. “ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᓗᐊᒧᑦ ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᐅᖂᔨᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐋᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ,” ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ. “ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᐊᓂ ᓂᕆᐅᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᓕᐅᖅᖢᓂ. [ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ] ᐊᓈᓇᒥᑐᑦ... ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒋᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ. ᓴᓇᖃᑎᒋᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᑲᓈᖏᓐᓇᖅ [ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ, RCA (1935–2010). ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᕋ ᐊᐃᑎ [ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1951–2014)] ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ, ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᖕᒥᔭᖏᑦ ᖃᐃᔪᖅ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑕᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᐅᖃᑎᒌᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᓇᑦᑎᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ.” ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᒃᓴᕆᓂᐊᖅᑕᒥᓂᒃ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᐅᔨᔭᖅᑐᖅᖢᓂ ᒫᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᑐᓂᒃ, ᐅᓕᑦᓯ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᖁᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᖁᓕᕈᐊᖓᓂ. “ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᖅᐸᒃᑲ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᓪᓗᖓ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐱᐅᔫᑎᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᐃᑦ,” ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᑦ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ. “ᐅᐸᒡᖢᒍ ᐊᑭᑦᑎᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᒡᓗᖓ ᔨᒥ ᒫᓂᒃ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᓯᔨᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᖓ, ‘ᐱᖁᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᓱᕋᐃᓂᐊᕋᒪ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᓇ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒧᐊᖁᔭᕋ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᖁᓪᓗᒍ,” ᐊᒻᒪᓗ

ᑖᓐᓇ ᐅᖃᖅᖢᓂ, ‘ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᒋᔪᓐᓇᔾᔮᓐᖏᑕᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ.” ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖏᑦ, ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᓂᒥᓂ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᖏᕐᕋᓯᓂᐊᓕᕐᓂᕐᒪᑕ.

ᕕᕼᐃᓕᐅᑉ ᐃᓚᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐅᓇ ᓂᕆᐅᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ (2002) ᐃᕐᖐᓐᓇᖅ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᐅᑲᐅᑎᒋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ

- ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᓕᒫᖏᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ - ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓇ

ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᔭᕆᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᕿᓚᒥᑯᓗᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᓂᑦ ᒪᓕᒃᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 2003-ᒥ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐱᖓᓱᓄᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓄᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖕᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᓴᕆᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ: ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᐊᐱ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᖅ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2006 (ᓱᓕ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐱᖓᓱᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᓄᑑᓪᓗᓂ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑎᑦᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᑐᓂᔭᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐳᖅᑐᓂᖅᐹᒥᒃ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᒥᒃ), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔭᕋᕐᕖᑦ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᔫᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐸᐅᕗ ᐸᓛᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ ᑐᓛᓐᑐᒥ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2006; ᐅᑯᐊ ᒪᕐᕈᒃ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑦ ᐊᓂᒍᕌᖓᑕ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊᒥ 2007; ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ 12 ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑲᓛᓯᓐ, ᔮᒪᓂ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2007; ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᒃ

ᐊᒥᐊᓕᒐ ᐊᓪᓚᓄ ᓅ ᔪᐊᒃ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ 2009; ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒪᕐᕉᒍᒃ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐊᓂᒍᕌᖓᑕ ᓯᑦᓂ ᐊᓯᑐᐃᓕᐊ 2010. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ 2007-ᒥ, ᐳᑐᒍᖅ

ᐃᓅᓯᖓ ᐊᓯᐊᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᓄᓇᖃᓕᖅᐸᒡᖢᓂ ᕿᒪᒃᐸᒡᖢᒍ ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐊ (ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᖑᓂᐊᒍᑦ ᐋᑐᕚ), ᐊᒻᒪᓗ, ᐊᒥᓱᓂ ᑐᓴᒐᒃᓴᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐊᖓᔮᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᓴᕿᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᓂ ᐱᓕᕆᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ. (ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖓᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖓ ᐊᒡᒋᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᖁᓕᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᓄᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓕᖅᐳᖅ ᐱᓇᓱᒡᖢᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᓐᖏᑦᒪᑕ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ).

ᐅᓇ ᐱᐊᓚᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᒥᒃ ᖁᕙᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ

ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒪᒐᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᐊᔪᖅᐸᒃᑐᑦ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᑲᒪᒋᓚᐅᖅᑕᑲ ᑕᑯᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑲᓴᑦᑎᐊᕆᖕᒪᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐳᐃᒍᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐊᕆᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᐱᔭᕐᓂᕋᔭᖅᑐᖅ, ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᖅᑐᓯᒋᐊᑲᓐᓂᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᖓᓂ,

ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᖏᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᒪᑕ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᑐᑭᓯᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ ᐊᒃᑑᑎᕐᑲᕐᓂᖏᓂᒡᓗ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᕈᒫᖅᑐᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᑦ ᕐᑲᖕᒐᐅᓕᖅᐸᑦ. —

years af­ter her first solo show, she re­ceived this highly cov­eted prize), and ex­hi­bi­tions in­cluded a large show­ing at The Power Plant Con­tem­po­rary Art Gallery in Toronto, ON, in 2006; the Bi­en­nale de Mon­tréal in 2007; doc­u­menta 12 in Kas­sel, Ger­many, in 2007; the Na­tional Mu­seum of the Amer­i­can In­dian in New York, in 2009; and the Bi­en­nale of Sydney in 2010. But by 2007, Pootoo­gook’s per­sonal life had be­gun to shift. She was liv­ing on and off in Mon­treal, QC (and later in Ot­tawa, ON), and, as count­less news­pa­per ar­ti­cles re­ported, ad­dic­tion is­sues sur­faced and her draw­ing be­came much more spo­radic. (It has been re­ported that she con­tin­ued to draw over the next 10 years, but it’s harder to ac­count for these works, which weren’t all be­ing fil­tered through the gallery sys­tem).

It’s the kind of me­te­oric rise of which many artists could only dream. Look­ing over those ear­li­est works that Fe­he­ley saw, it’s strik­ing to see them bear such a re­sem­blance to Pootoo­gook’s most iconic images. It would be easy, be­tween these early works and her swift as­cen­sion in the art world, to as­sume that Pootoo­gook be­gan as a fully-formed artist. There are in­te­rior scenes, such as an empty yel­low kitchen, where small, mun­dane items—a cof­fee pot, fridge mag­nets, an ulu (woman’s knife) bal­anced against the counter—are ren­dered in crisp minia­ture. On the kitchen walls hang small ob­jects: an oven mitt, a clock stopped at 1:55 p.m., and a cal­en­dar mark­ing the month of June. These in­di­ca­tors of time and dec­o­ra­tive el­e­ments ap­pear again and again through­out Pootoo­gook’s work, but her draw­ing was a con­stant process of re­turn, an urge to re­visit and re­work. In these early works tiled floors lack any sense of per­spec­tive, ap­pear­ing more like a ver­ti­cal checker­board than a re­ced­ing sur­face, shad­ows are non-ex­is­tent and a sense of space is ab­sent. These el­e­ments are ad­dressed in later works and slowly added in

(or, in the case of the shad­ows, a sud­den re­al­iza­tion that Pootoo­gook dives into, only to even out later).

Pootoo­gook’s urge to re­turn extends be­yond tech­ni­cal ca­pa­bil­i­ties into sub­ject mat­ter. There were no dis­creet phases to the artist’s work, no se­ries that was worked on for a pe­riod of time and then moved be­yond. It was al­ways a ne­go­ti­a­tion. But it may be time for us, as view­ers, to re­turn as well and to re­con­sider some of the draw­ings that fit less neatly into the nar­ra­tive that has come to de­fine her. There is one work in the early batch—well be­fore the press and the Sobey Award and doc­u­menta and leav­ing Kin­ngait—that looks a lit­tle dif­fer­ent. Two fig­ures float, unan­chored in space, as strange mir­ror images of one an­other. Around one fig­ure em­anates sin­u­ous lines in black, a red dev­il­ish crea­ture floats at her shoul­der and a rose wilts at her feet. Around the other fig­ure, straight yel­low lines burst, like rays of the sun, while an an­gel floats above and a ra­di­ant rose blooms. “Her life was like death be­fore she was saved. Af­ter she ᐃᓱᒪᓗᑕ ᐅᑯᐊ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑎᐊᓕᖅᖢᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᑎᓴᒪᐅᕗᑦ ᐃᒡᓗᑉ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ,

ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᕐᑯᖅᓱᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒐᕕᒃ, ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᒥᑭᔪᖅ, ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐱᐅᔫᑎᑦ ᐱᖁᑎᑦ - ᑳᐱᓕᐅᕈᑎ, ᖁᐊᒃᑯᕕᖕᒧᑦ ᓂᐱᑦᑕᐅᑎᓕᑦ

ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᐅᓗ ᐃᓕᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᒐᕕᐅᑉ ᓵᖓᓂ - ᐅᑯᐊ

ᑐᓂᓯᔪᑦ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᒥᑭᔫᑕᐅᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᐃᒐᕕᖓᓂ

ᐃᒡᓗ ᓂᕕᖓᔪᑦ ᐊᑭᐊᖓᓂ ᒥᑭᔫᑎᑦ: ᐃᒐᐅᑉ ᐳᐊᓗᐊ, ᓯᑭᖑᔭᖅ ᓄᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ 1:55 ᐅᓐᓄᓴᒃᑯᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᖅᓯᐅᑎᖓ ᔫᓐᒦᓪᖢᓂ.

ᐅᑯᐊ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᖃᖓᐅᓂᖓᓄ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒡᓗᒥ ᑕᑯᒥᓴᐅᑏᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊᑦᑕᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᓴᕿᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑎᕐᕕᒋᑲᓐᓂᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ, ᐅᐸᑲᓐᓂᕆᐊᖃᓕᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᑲᓐᓂᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓯᕗᓪᓖᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓇᑎᖑᐊᑦ ᑭᓱᒥ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᕐᒪᖔᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᑐᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᓂᖓᓂᖅᓴᐅᔮᓕᖅᐸᒃᖢᑎᒃ ᓇᑎᕐᒦᖁᔨᔪᓐᓃᖅᖢᑎᒃ, ᑕᕐᕋᖏᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕋᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑕᓗᐊᖅᑑᔮᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓗᓕᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᑦᑎᐊᑲᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑭᖑᓪᓕᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓱᑲᐃᑦᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓚᕙᓪᓕᐊᖑᔭᖅᖢᒋᑦ (ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑕᕐᕋᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐅᔾᔨᕆᖃᑦᑕᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᑖᑉᓱᒪ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᑲᐅᑎᒋᕙᒡᖢᒋᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐅᐊᑦᑎᐊᕉᓕᕐᒪᑦ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᖢᓂ).

ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑎᓕᐅᕆᕗᖅ ᐅᑎᕈᑎᒃ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖁᕈᑕᐅᕙᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦ ᐊᔪᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑭᓱᒥᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕈᒪᔭᕐᒥᖕᓂᒃ. ᓴᕿᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᒋᑦ

ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᑲᖕᖑᓇᖅᑐᖃᕋᓂ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ,

ᒪᓕᒃᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᕋᑎᒃ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓐᓂᕈᑎᒃ ᐊᑯᓂᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᑲᖓᓂᑦ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᖑᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᓅᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᒍᑦ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᑰᓇ ᐋᔩᖃᑎᒌᖏᓐᓇᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᒫᓐᓇ ᓈᒻᒪᒍᑎᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᒍᑦ, ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗᑕ, ᐅᑎᕐᕕᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᒋᑦᑎᐊᕐᓗᒋ ᐃᓚᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐋᕿᐅᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᕐᒪᑕ ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕆᔨᐅᔪᒧᑦ

ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑖᑉᓱᒥᖓ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᖃᖅᓯᒪᔭᒥᖕᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᒪ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᐱᒋᐊᓕᓵᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᑦ - ᓯᕗᓂᑐᖃᖓᓂ ᓱᐊᐱᒥ ᓵᓚᖃᐅᓯᐊᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᓱᓕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᑯᒥᑦᑕ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᒪᓚᐅᕋᓂᐅᒃ ᓱᓕ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ - ᐅᑯᐊ ᒥᑭᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᓂᖃᖅᑐᑦ. ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᑎᒥᖕᒍᐊᖅ ᐳᒃᑕᓛᖅᑐᒃ, ᑭᓴᖅᓯᒪᓇᑎᒃ ᓯᓚᑐᐃᓐᓇᒥ, ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᕐᕋᖅᑑᑎ ᑕᕋᖅᑐᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓇᒍ. ᑖᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᔾᔪᑎᕕᓂᖓ ᑎᑎᑯᓘᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᒥᒃ, ᐊᐅᐸᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᓵᑕᓇᓯᖑᐊᖑᖂᔨᔪᒥᒃ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᖅ ᑐᐃᖓᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᕋᖅ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓯᒐᖓᓂ.

ᑖᓐᓇᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᐊᓯᐊ ᑭᓱᖑᐊᖅ, ᖁᖅᓱᖅᑕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᓲᕐᓗ ᖄᖅᓯᒪᐅᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᓯᕿᓂᖅ ᖃᐅᒪᓂᖓ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐊᐃᖏᓕ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᑦ ᖁᓛᓂ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᕈᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ. “ᐃᓅᓯᖓ ᑕᐃᒫᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᑐᖁᖓᔪᑎᑐᑦ ᓴᐳᑎᔭᐅᓚᐅᕋᓂ ᓱᓕ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓅᓕᓚᐅᖅᐳᖅ,” ᐅᖃᓕᒫᖅᖢᒍ ᑎᑎᖃᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖓᓂ. ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓱᖏᐅᖕᖓᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᒪᓕᑦᑎᐊᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᖓᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᕋᒥ.

ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖓ (ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᐱᖃᑎᓕᒃ ᐱᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ) (2002–3) ᐊᕐᓇᖅ ᓇᓗᓕᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᖁᒡᓗᒋᐊᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᖕᖏᓕ. ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐱᐅᔪᖅ

was saved, she be­came alive,” reads the in­scrip­tion. It’s a work un­like the bet­ter known in­te­rior and camp­ing scenes, and yet this tra­jec­tory would run par­al­lel to Pootoo­gook’s other works through­out her ca­reer.

In Com­po­si­tion (Woman with Good and Evil) (2002–3) a woman is sim­i­larly torn be­tween an evil ser­pent and an an­gel. In Com­po­si­tion (Good Re­plac­ing Bad) (2003–4) a man kneels in prayer on a float­ing leaf, as red lines em­anate out from a Bi­ble and reach to­wards him, seem­ingly driv­ing out the black­ened lines of neg­a­tiv­ity. These works are not sim­ply spir­i­tual—although Pootoo­gook pro­duced a great many pieces that fall into that cat­e­gory—they are overtly re­li­gious. That re­li­gion fac­tors heav­ily in Pootoo­gook’s work comes as lit­tle sur­prise. Look­ing through the works of Na­pachie and Pit­se­o­lak, it be­comes ev­i­dent that she was raised in a re­li­gious fam­ily. In her grand­mother’s book Pit­se­o­lak: Pic­tures Out of My Life (1971), Angli­can cler­gy­men are fre­quently men­tioned, and Pit­se­o­lak re­mem­bers “the com­ple­tion of what in Cape Dorset is known as [the] Pootoo­gooks’ church.” Trag­i­cally, two of Pootoo­gook’s sib­lings were killed in a house fire that started while Na­pachie and her hus­band, Ee­gyvud­luk Pootoo­gook, were at church. Re­li­gion also fea­tures heav­ily in Na­pachie’s own draw­ings.

Look­ing through enough of these images, a whole iconog­ra­phy, seem­ingly with­out any di­rect prece­dence, be­gins to emerge. It is a uni­verse of bi­na­ries. There are lines to in­di­cate good (of­ten yel­low) or bad (of­ten black) forces, teardrop-like shapes, and roses, which are ei­ther dy­ing or thriv­ing. Many of these sym­bols are ei­ther in­tu­itive or quo­tid­ian. Plas­tic flow­ers, roses in par­tic­u­lar, are pop­u­lar in the North; even in his­to­rian Dorothy Har­ley Eber’s ac­count of visit­ing Pit­se­o­lak decades ago for their in­ter­views, she makes a note of “a bowl of plas­tic flow­ers” sit­ting in the room.

In many ways, these works, with their in­te­rior lan­guage and to­tal dis­con­nect from lived re­al­ity, run counter to Pootoo­gook’s best-known works, which ren­der scenes of life in the North, caught be­tween Inuit tra­di­tion and the in­flu­ence of south­ern forces. “The re­al­ity shown in Pootoo­gook’s in­te­ri­ors is that Inuit life, cur­rently, is a mesh­ing of the tra­di­tional life­style with new ways adopted from the South. Therein lies the fas­ci­na­tion of these com­po­si­tions,” writes cu­ra­tor and art his­to­rian Nancy Campbell. Pootoo­gook cap­tures this process through her at­ten­tion to the mun­dan­ity of things: clocks and key hooks on walls or Dr. Phil on the tele­vi­sion, and of course through her will­ing­ness to tackle the darker sides of life un­flinch­ingly. Her images of do­mes­tic abuse and the fall­out of ad­dic­tion are un­doubt­edly among Pootoo­gook’s most rec­og­nized works, de­spite con­sti­tut­ing a small sub­set of her out­put. There is be­lief be­cause of these de­pic­tions that Pootoo­gook was some­thing of a doc­u­men­tar­ian. It’s a read­ing that was also pro­moted by the artist her­self, who was in­sis­tent on the ve­rac­ity of her draw­ings. “I can­not draw any­thing that I did not ex­pe­ri­ence,” she ex­plained in a 2006 doc­u­men­tary. It’s an im­pulse that was shared by Pit­se­o­lak and Na­pachie, and one of which Pootoo­gook was aware. She re­mem­bered Pit­se­o­lak’s mo­ti­va­tions, re­count­ing what her grand­mother told her, “‘I’m draw­ing be­cause my grand­chil­dren have to eat.’ But she drew a true story, too, about her life.”

Critic Deb­o­rah Root and oth­ers have writ­ten ex­ten­sively about the trou­bling search for au­then­tic­ity within Inuit art, and the ways in which Pootoo­gook’s work both up­ends and plays into these im­pulses. “Within a con­tem­po­rary art par­a­digm . . . ‘au­then­tic­ity’ means some­thing rather dif­fer­ent. Here, dis­turb­ing images tend to be seen as more ‘real’ than beau­ti­ful ones, in part be­cause the artist’s job is to strip away the dis­hon­esty and pre­ten­sion of mod­ern so­ci­ety,” ar­gues Root. Per­haps this ac­counts for the fore­ground­ing of Pootoo­gook’s in­te­ri­ors and camp scenes over her more spir­i­tual and re­li­gious works. The lat­ter, I would ar­gue, are the more dif­fi­cult works. As

Dr. Heather Iglo­liorte has ar­gued, “Her images de-ex­oti­cized the Arc­tic. Yet, at the same time, they high­lighted how truly great the dis­tance is be­tween the lives of south­ern Cana­di­ans and their neigh­bours in Inuit Nu­nan­gat, and how lit­tle the South truly knows about the ex­pe­ri­ence of life in the North.” But how does a south­ern au­di­ence even be­gin to place it­self in re­la­tion to Pootoo­gook’s spir­i­tual ᐲᖅᓯᔪᖅ ᐱᓐᖏᑦᑐᒥᒃ) (2003–4) ᐊᖑᑎ ᓰᖁᖓᔪᖅ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ

ᖄᖓᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᔭᖅ ᖃᖓᑕᔪᖅ, ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᐸᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑐᒃᓯᐅᑎᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓴᒡᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᑖᑉᓱᒧᖓ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᒥᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᓯᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᖃᖑᐊᓕᕌᖓᒥ. ᐅᑯᐊ

ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᖔᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ - ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᑕᒡᕗᖓ ᐋᕿᖁᐅᑎᑦᑎᐊᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ

- ᐅᑯᐊ ᑐᑭᓯᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐱᓯᒪᓗᐊᕌᓗᓐᖏᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᑎᒃ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐅᒃᐱᖅᑐᓕᕆᓂᖓ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᔮᕋᓱᒋᓐᓇᓐᖏᒻᒪᑕ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ

ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ, ᓇᓗᓇᕈᓐᓃᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᓇ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᑎᑕᐅᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ

ᐅᒃᐱᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓚᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓᑕ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᓕᐊᖓ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ: ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᓐᓂᑦ (1971), ᐊᐅᐸᓗᒃᑐᓅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔪᕆᖅᓱᐃᔩᑦ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᐅᖏᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ “ᐱᔭᕇᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᖃᓄᖅ ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᖅ [ᐅᓇ] ᐳᑐᒍᒃᑯᑦ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᕐᕕᖓ.” ᐱᓂᖅᓗᒃᑐᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓄᖃᖏᒃ

ᑐᖁᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᑯᐊᓪᓚᒃᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᓇᓗ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑐᕕᓂᖅ ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐃᖓ, ᐃᔨᕙᓪᓗᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ, ᑐᒃᓯᐊᕐᕕᖕᒦᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᖅ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᒥᒃ ᓇᐸᑦᓯᐅᑉ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂ.

ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᑦ

ᑐᑭᓕᐅᕈᑎᖏᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᑐᑭᒧᐊᒍᑎᖃᓗᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᓇᓕᐊᒃ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᖕᒪᖔᑦᑕ, ᓴᕿᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᓗᑎᒡᓗ. ᐅᓇ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᑦᑎᓂ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᑎᑎᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐱᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᐅᔪᒥᒃ (ᖁᖅᓱᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ) ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ (ᕿᕐᓂᖅᐸᒡᖢᒋᑦ) ᐊᒃᓱᕉᑎᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ, ᖁᒡᕕᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑦ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᑐᖁᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ. ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᓴᕿᑕᖏᑦ ᑭᓱᖑᐊᑦ ᓱᓕᔪᕆᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᐅᑕᒫᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᔪᑦ. ᓄᓇᕋᖑᐊᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑦ, ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᖕᒪᑕ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ: ᐃᒻᒪᑲᓪᓚᖕᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᑐᐊᖅᑎ ᑐᓗᑎ ᕼᐋᓕ ᐄᐳ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᓛᖅᖢᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ

ᖁᓕᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂ ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᐱᖅᓱᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᒐᒥᐅᒃ, ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ ‘ᐱᕈᖅᑐᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦ ᐴᖃᖅᖢᑎᒃ’ ᑕᒫᓂ ᓵᒦᑦᑐᑦ.

ᖃᓄᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᓇᖕᒥᓂᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖃᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑕᖕᒋᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᓪᓚᑖᕆᔭᑦᑎᓂ, ᓵᒥᑦᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐱᐅᓛᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑲᒥ ᐊᕙᑖᓂᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᑐᖃᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. “ᐅᓇ ᐃᓅᓯᓪᓚᑖᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᒫᓐᓇ, ᐃᒧᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᑐᖃᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓄᑖᓂ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᓕᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. ᑕᐃᑲᓂ ᑕᒪᔾᔭ ᑲᒪᓇᖅᑐᑦ

ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂ,” ᑎᑎᕋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᖕᒥ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐃᑦᑕᓂᑕᓕᕆᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᓈᓐᓯ ᑳᑉᐳ. ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᕿᑎᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓᓂᑦ ᐅᔾᔨᕆᕙᓪᓕᐊᔭᓂ

ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑲᔾᔮᕐᓇᖅᑐᐃᓐᓇᓐᖏᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᓱᑐᐃᓐᓇᐃᑦ: ᓯᑭᖖᒍᔭᖅ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑮᑦ ᐊᑭᐊᕐᒦᑦᑐᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑖᒃᑕ ᕕᐅ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᒦᑦᑐᖅ,

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐄ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᐱᓕᕆᔪᒪᓂᕐᒥᒍᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓗᒍ ᑖᕐᓂᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᓱᒐᓂ. ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓂᖓᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᖃᕈᓐᓇᐃᓕᓯᒪᔭᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᓛᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒥᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᒥᑭᔫᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᖕᖏᔪᑎᓂᑦ ᐊᕙᑎᒥᓂᑦ ᓂᓪᓕᐅᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ. ᐅᒃᐱᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐅᖅᑎ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓕᖁᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᐃᒡᓯᓇᐃᓂᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓱᓕᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᒥᒍᑦ. “ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᕈᓐᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖓ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑕᓐᓂᒃ,” ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ 2006 ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓕᐊᖑᒐᒥ. ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᒋᔭᑎᒃ ᑕᐃᒫᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᑎᑐᑦ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᐸᑦᓯ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ. ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒪᔾᔪᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᓯᐊᖓᑕ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᖏᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓄᑦ, “‘ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᒃᑲ ᓂᕆᔭᒃᓴᖃᕐᓂᐊᕐᒪᑕ.’ ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᓱᓕᔪᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᓂᒃ, ᑕᐅᖅ, ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥᓂᒃ.”

ᐅᖃᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᑎᐳᓚ ᐅᓗᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖃᑦᑕᖅᓯᒪᕗᑦ ᐅᓄᖅᑐᐃᖅᖢᑎᒃ ᕿᓂᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᖕᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᑰᓇ ᐅᓇ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᖑᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᐸᒍᑎᓯᒪᓕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᖁᔭᐅᔭᕌᖓᒥᒃ. ᐃᓗᐊᓂ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᕈᓯᖅ... ‘ᓴᓇᓪᓚᕆᒃᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᒍᑦ’ ᑐᑭᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ. ᐅᕙ, ᑕᑯᒥᓇᓗᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᔭᓐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᑦ ‘ᓱᓕᔪᖅ’ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᒋᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ, ᐃᓚᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐃᖅᑲᓇᐃᔮᖏᑦ ᐲᔭᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᓴᒡᓗᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖕᖑᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᒥ ᓄᓇᖃᑎᒌᓂ,’ ᐊᐃᕙᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᓗᑦ.

scenes? There is no clearly de­marked space to step into, no cal­en­dar on the wall in­di­cat­ing the date, no rec­og­niz­able tele­vi­sion pro­gram that sug­gests con­ti­nu­ity be­tween life in the South and life in the North. In­stead, there is un­moored emo­tion and re­li­gious lean­ings that, in a con­tem­po­rary art world more ac­cus­tomed to scathing cri­tiques of the church, reg­is­ter as un­de­ni­ably un­fash­ion­able.

There is some con­ti­nu­ity be­tween these bod­ies of work. The spir­i­tual scenes still de­pict a kind of event, but it’s an in­te­rior emo­tional one, rather than an ex­te­rior one. As Jimmy Man­ning has de­scribed it, “Some­times she will draw hurt­ing feel­ings from her heart which she’s not afraid to say on pa­per.” Fe­he­ley be­gan to un­der­stand how im­me­di­ate the emo­tional process of these works was when she saw the artist cre­ate Com­po­si­tion (Sad­ness and Re­lief for My Brother) (2006). It was a work that Pootoo­gook be­gan in Scot­land, where she spent two months work­ing as part of the Glen­fid­dich Artist in Res­i­dence pro­gram. “She had started a draw­ing and there were all of these black lines and things,” Fe­he­ley re­calls. “And she said, ‘I’m draw­ing this be­cause I’m up­set about my brother, be­cause he was ar­rested, and I think this time they’re go­ing to put him in jail.’ But the next day, she talked to her fam­ily again and he hadn’t been jailed, he had been let go, and she com­pleted the draw­ing in happy mode.”

Whereas Pootoo­gook’s in­te­rior and ex­te­rior scenes func­tion like a stage—with a rec­tan­gu­lar, de­mar­cated re­gion where the ac­tion takes place—the spir­i­tual works and the trans­for­ma­tion pieces are en­cir­cled with sin­u­ous lines. The cen­tral fig­ures sit in the mid­dle of the page, with el­e­ments reach­ing in and loop­ing out. There are some for­mal sim­i­lar­i­ties with her other scenes—namely, her strong, clear lines, which she marked in pen­cil be­fore ren­der­ing in ink. But the ap­proach is so dif­fer­ent it leaves me search­ing for an­other point of ref­er­ence, a dif­fer­ent in­flu­ence. For these works, Ritchie points to the work of il­lus­tra­tor Alootook Ipel­lie (1951– 2007), whose black-and-white draw­ings, pub­lished with Inuk­tut com­men­tary and heav­ily cir­cu­lated in the North, were a wa­ter­shed mo­ment. “His work looks like a lot of other peo­ple’s work now, [but] it was the first in­flu­ence of that kind of lin­ear draw­ing, that kind of por­trai­ture,” he explains. “It was re­ally pop­u­lar amongst Inuit, and I think An­nie and Tim [Pit­si­u­lak (1967–2016)] and Itee and all those guys have a lit­tle bit of him in them.” The con­nec­tion is far from di­rect, but there are mo­ments where Ipel­lie’s in­flu­ence on Pootoo­gook might be ap­par­ent, like Com­po­si­tion (Evil Spirit) (2004), where an um­bil­i­cal cord-like line con­nects the fig­ure’s mouth to the gen­i­tals of the spirit, en­cir­cling them both.

Try­ing to find some ob­vi­ous di­rect ref­er­ence point, though, is some­thing of a fool’s er­rand. Na­pachie and Pit­se­o­lak’s books, be­cause of their in­clu­sion of Inuk­tut and broad cir­cu­la­tion are more the ex­cep­tion than the rule in terms of im­pact. The av­er­age draw­ing has less of a wide re­cep­tion in the co-op than one might ex­pect. It’s a re­al­ity that con­tra­dicts ar­gu­ments that Pootoo­gook’s work had a di­rectly trace­able in­flu­ence on other artists work­ing in Kin­ngait. “An­nie would work at home on a draw­ing for a week­end or overnight, be­cause we buy draw­ings on Tues­days and Thurs­days. When An­nie would walk in the door, I would take that draw­ing, lay it out ᐃᒻᒪᖄ ᐅᓇ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᓕᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᓂᒃ

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᖅᓯᒪᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᐅᓐᓇ ᑕᕐᓂᖓᓂᖔᕐᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᒃᐱᕐᓂᓕᕆᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᑦ. ᐅᓇ ᐃᓱᐊᓄᑦ, ᐊᐃᕙᔪᓐᓇᖅᑐᖓ, ᐱᔭᕐᓂᓐᖏᑑᑕᐅᓂᖅᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᕼᐃᑐ ᐃᒡᓗᓕᐅᖅᑎ ᐊᐃᕙᓯᒪᔪᖅ, “ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ. ᓱᓕᓕ, ᓴᕿᑦᑎᑲᓐᓂᕋᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᖓᓯᒌᓐᓇᕆᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᑦ ᑲᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂᑦ

ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓴᓂᓕᖏᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᓗᓴᐃᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓄᖅ ᒥᑭᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓗᖕᒥᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓂᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᖃᖅᑐᒥᒃ.” ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᓄᖅ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᑕᑯᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓄᑦ ᐋᕿᒍᑎᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦᑕᐅᔪᖅ ᖃᓄᕆᑑᓂᖓᓂ

ᐊᑐᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᕐ ᑕᕐᓂᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᒋᔭᖏᑦ? ᐱᑕᖃᓗᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᓂᖃᕐᕕᒃᓴᒃᑲᓐᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᒡᕗᖓ, ᐅᓪᓗᖅᓯᐅᑎᑕᖃᕋᓂ ᐊᑭᐊᖓᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᖃᖓᐅᓐᓂᕐᒪᖔᑦ, ᐃᓕᓴᕐᓇᖅᑐᖃᕋᓂ ᑕᓚᕖᓴᒃᑯᑦ

ᐅᑯᐊ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᕈᑎᒋᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑲᔪᓯᔪᒥᒃ ᐊᕙᑖᓂ ᐃᓄᓯᖓ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ.

ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖅᑕᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᒃᑯᓂᖓ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᑕᕐᓂᖑᐊᑦ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ,

ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᐃᓗᒥᒍᑦ ᕿᐊᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᑕᔪᑦ ᐋᓐᓂᕆᔭᒥᒍᑦ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓯᓚᑖᓂ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᓂ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᔨᒥ ᒫᓂᖕ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐃᒪᓐᓇ, “ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐋᓐᓂᖅᓯᒪᖑᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐃᒃᐱᖕᓂᐊᔪᓂᒃ ᐆᒻᒪᑎᖓᓂᖔᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑲᑉᐱᐊᒋᓇᒋᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᕆᐊᒃᓴᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᐸᐃᐹᒧᑦ.” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᑐᑭᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖓᓄᑦ ᕿᐊᖓᓄᑦ ᐊᑕᓂᖏ ᐱᕙᓪᓕᐊᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᒥᓂ ᑕᑯᒐᒥ ᐅᓇ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎ ᓴᕿᑦᑎᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ ᖁᕕᐊᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᓄᒫᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᒐᓂ ᐊᓂᒥᓄᒃ) (2006). ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖓ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐱᒋᐊᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓯᑳᑦᓚᓐ, ᑕᐃᑲᓃᓪᖢᓂ ᒪᕐᕉᖕᓄᑦ

ᑕᕿᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᓚᖓᓄ ᒋᓕᓐᕕᑎᔅ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᑎᑦᑎᔾᔪᑕᐅᔪᖅ. “ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ

ᕿᓂᖅᑕᐃᓇᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᖅᖢᓂ ᐱᖁᑎᓂᒡᓗ,” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐃᖃᐅᒪᔪᖅ. “ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ‘ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖓ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓴᐃᒪᓐᖏᓇᒪ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐊᓂᒐ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑎᒍᔭᐅᖕᒪᑦ ᐸᓖᓯᒃᑯᓂᑦ,

ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᐊᓄᓪᓚᒃᓰᕕᖕᒧᐊᖅᑕᐅᓂᐊᓕᖅᑐᖅ.’ ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᖃᐅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐅᖃᓪᓚᖃᑎᒋᒃᑲᓐᓂᕋᒥᒋᑦ ᐃᓚᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᓴᖅᖢᓂ ᐊᓄᓪᓚᓰᕕᖕᒧᐊᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ, ᑎᒍᔭᐅᓐᖕᒋᓐᓂᖅᖢᓂ, ᐱᔭᕇᖅᖢᓂᐅᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᓂ ᖁᕕᐊᓱᓕᖅᖢᓂ.”

ᐃᒪᐃᒻᒪᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᐃᒡᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓯᒪᒦᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐱᖕᖑᐊᕐᕕᒃ ᓇᑎᖓᓂ ᖁᑎᖕᓂᖓᓂᑦ - ᐊᕙᓗᖃᖅᖢᓂ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓗᐊᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑖᓐᓇ ᖃᓄᐃᓕᐅᕐᕕᖓᓐᓂ - ᑕᕐᓂᓕᕆᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓱᕈᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᖑᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᕙᓗᓯᒪᑦᑎᐊᖅᐳᑦ ᑐᑭᓕᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᑎᑎᖁᑖᒃᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᕿᑎᐊᓃᑦᑐᖅ ᐃᒡᓯᕙᔪᖅ ᕿᑎᐊᓂ ᒪᒃᐱᒐᕐᒥ, ᐃᓚᖃᐅᖅᖢᒍ ᑕᒡᔭᖔᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᖕᒪᓗᒐᓛᓕᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐊᔾᔨᑎᐊᐸᓗᒋᖕᒥᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᓴᕿᑎᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ - ᑕᐃᓐᓇᓗ, ᓴᖕᖏᔫᔪᖅ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, ᐅᓇᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᒧᑦ ᕿᔪᓕᖕᒧᑦ ᐱᔭᕇᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑖᓐᓇ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ. ᑖᓐᓇᓗ ᐱᒋᐊᕈᑎᒋᔭᖓ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑦᑎᐊᕐᒪᒍ ᖃᐅᔨᓇᓱᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᓇᑭᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᓯᓂᕕᓂᖓ ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑦᑕᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᖅ. ᐅᑯᐊ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᓕᑦᓯ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᒃᑯᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᕐᓗᑑᖅ ᐊᐃᐱᓕ (1951–2007), ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᕿᓂᖅᑕᑦ-ᐊᒻᒪᓗ

ᖃᑯᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ, ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᕐᒧᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐅᖃᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᑉ ᐱᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᑕᐃᔅᓱᒪᓂᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. “ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ

on the table­top and look at it. And if it was re­ally good, I would bring over to Joemie [Tak­paun­gai], who is the As­sis­tant Stu­dio Man­ager, and we would de­cide what the price of the draw­ing would be,” explains Ritchie. “Two or three peo­ple in the stu­dio might have seen it. It goes into a drawer, into a tube and it ships out. It never comes back. None of this art comes back to the com­mu­nity.” More than sub­ject mat­ter or style, Fe­he­ley ar­gues that Pootoo­gook’s in­flu­ence can be felt in the freedom that she pro­moted. “It was as if freedom was sud­denly okay,” Fe­he­ley says of the shift, “and you could see it hap­pen.”

Pootoo­gook’s work told sto­ries. We, in turn, tell sto­ries about Pootoo­gook’s work. No artis­tic legacy is set in stone, and our un­der­stand­ing of her work and its im­pact will in­evitably shift and change over time. This year alone, there will cer­tainly be plenty of op­por­tu­ni­ties to see it in a new light: among other show­ings, cu­ra­tor Kitty Scott has in­cluded it in the Liver­pool Bi­en­nial 2018. Hope­fully, these re­turns will be­gin to ac­count for the breadth of ex­pe­ri­ence that is de­tailed across Pootoo­gook’s work. Look­ing through the mem­oirs of the artist’s mother and grand­mother, I was struck by a par­tic­u­lar pas­sage from Eber in the lat­ter’s book: “In Au­gust 1971, about a year af­ter we fin­ished the in­ter­view ses­sions that led to Pit­se­o­lak: Pic­tures Out of My Life, I was able to show Pit­se­o­lak the first copy of our book. As her grand­chil­dren looked on, she turned ev­ery page, and then, when I asked what she thought, with the help of our in­ter­preter she said, ‘I am not ashamed of it.’” I imag­ine Pootoo­gook among that group of grand­chil­dren, look­ing on at a life laid out in images and words, un­der­stand­ing that there is no shame in telling your story. Per­haps, we are fi­nally in a po­si­tion to lis­ten to the full range of sto­ries Pootoo­gook saw fit to share with us. ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑎᐊᖏᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᓴᓇᔾᔪᓯᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᒫᓐᓇ,

[ᑭᓯᐊᓂ] ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖑᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔭᕐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᓕᑦᑎᕕᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐃᓄᒃᖑᐊᒍᑕᐅᔪᑦ, “ᑕᐃᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. “ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ ᐱᒋᐅᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒃᓱᐊᓗᒃ ᐃᓄᖕᓂᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᔪᖓ ᐊᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᒻ (ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓚᖅ (1967–2016)] ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐃᑏ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒃᑯᐊ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᓯᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᑉᓱᒪᖔᒐᓚᖅᑐᐃᓇᐅᔪᑦ.” ᑲᑎᖓᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᑲᓴᑦᑎᐊᖅ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑕᐃᒪᐅᕗᑦ ᐊᐃᐱᓕᐅᑉ ᐊᔭᐅᕈᑎᖏᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂ ᑕᑯᔭᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᑦ, ᓲᕐᓗ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐊᓕᐊᓇᖅᑐᑦ) (2004), ᑕᐃᑲᓂᓗ ᒥᒃᖠᐊᖑᐊᖅ ᐊᑕᔪᖅ ᖃᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᑖᒃᑯᓇᖓᑦ ᐊᓕᐊᓇᖅᑐᓂᑦ, ᐊᕙᓗᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ.

ᓇᓂᓯᓇᓱᒡᖢᓂ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᑐᒥᖓ ᐱᓯᒪᓪᓚᕆᒃᑐᑦ

ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓂᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᒐᓗᐊᕐᒪᑦ, ᐃᓚᖓᒍᑦ ᐊᕿᑐᖓᓴᖕᓂᒃᑯᑦ. ᓇᐹᑦᓯ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖏᑦ,

ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᔾᔨᓯᒪᖕᒪᑕ ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓇᒧᑐᐃᓐᓇᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᐱᔭᐅᔪᓐᓇᖅᑎᑕᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᒪᓕᓗᐊᕋᑎᒃ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᒐᔭᕐᓂᖓᓂᒃ. ᐅᓇ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐ ᐱᔪᒪᔭᐅᓗᐊᓐᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑯᐊᐸᒃᑯᓃᑦᑐᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᔪᒥᓇᓐᖏᒃᑲᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᓱᓕᕗᖅᓕ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓪᓚᐅᒃᑐᖅ ᐅᓇ ᐅᖃᖅᑕᖓᑕ ᐊᔾᔨᒋᓐᖏᑕᖓ ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐳᑑᒍᑉ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᒡᕙᖔᕐᓂᖓᓂ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᔪᓐᓇᓕᖅᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᑭᓐᖓᓂ. “ᐊᓂ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖕᖏᕋᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓇᓱᐊᕈᓯᑦ ᐃᓱᐊᓂ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐅᓐᓄᐊᖏᓐᓇᖅ, ᐱᔾᔪᑎᒋᓪᓗᒍ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᕋᑦᑕ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᐃᐹᒃᑯᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᑎᖂᑎᒃᑯᑦ. ᑕᐃᒪᓕ ᐋᓂ ᐃᓯᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ᐅᕙᖓ ᑎᒍᕙᒡᖢᒋᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᑦ, ᓵᒧᑦ ᒪᑐᐃᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᕿᒥᕈᐊᓕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐋᓘᔭᕌᖓᑕ, ᑐᓂᕙᒃᖢᒋᑦ ᔫᒥ [ ᑕᒃᐸᐅᖓᐃ], ᐅᓇᓗ

ᐃᑲᔪᖅᑎ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᐊᐅᓚᑦᓯᔨᖓᑕ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᑭᒃᓴᖓᓂᒃ ᐃᓱᒪᓕᐅᕆᓕᖅᐸᒃᑐᒍᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᒪᓕᒡᖢᒍ,” ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᓕᑦᓯ. “ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐱᖓᓱᓪᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖕᒥ ᑕᑯᓯᒪᔭᒃᓴᕆᔭᖏᑦ. ᐃᓕᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒧᔫᕐᒧᑦ, ᐴᖅᑕᐅᒋᓪᓗᓂ ᐃᒧᔭᐅᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᑎᑕᐅᕗᖅ. ᐅᑎᖅᐸᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ. ᑕᒪᕐᒥᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᐅᓪᓚᖅᑎᑕᐅᓂᑯᑦ ᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᓐᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓄᑦ.” ᐅᖃᐅᓯᒃᓴᐅᒋᕗᖅ ᐊᓯᐊᒍᑦ ᐅᒡᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ ᐋᕿᒃᓯᒪᓂᖓᑦ, ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐊᐃᕙᐅᑎᒋᕚ ᐅᓇ

ᐳᑐᒎᖅ ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᖅ ᐃᒃᐱᒋᔭᐅᔪᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᑕᒪᓐᓇᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᖁᓚᖕᐅᖅᑕᖓ. “ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐃᓱᒪᖅᓱᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᖅ ᖃᓄᐃᖂᔨᔪᓐᓃᖅᖢᓂ ᐋᕿᒃᖢᓂ,” ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, “ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᖅᑕᐃᑦ ᑖᓐᓇ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇᐅᑎᑦᑎᓪᓗᓂ.”

ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᑦ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ. ᐅᕙᒍᑦ, ᑕᑯᓪᓗᑕ, ᐅᓂᒃᑳᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ. ᑭᓇᑐᐃᓐᓇᒥᒃ ᐊᓯᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᐃᒪᓐᓇ ᐳᐃᒍᓇᖅᑐᖅᑕᖃᓐᖏᑎᒋᔪᖅ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐋᕿᑦᑎᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐅᔭᖃᒧᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᔭᑦᑎᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᒃᑐᐃᑎᑦᑎᓂᖏᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᖑᓛᕐᒥᔪᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓯᑦᔨᕈᒫᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᖓᐅᓕᖅᐸᑦ. ᑕᒪᑐᒪᓂ ᐅᑭᐅᒥ, ᓇᓗᓇᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐱᕕᖃᕐᑎᑕᐅᓂᐊᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᔪᓐᓇᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᓄᑖᒥᒃ ᖃᐅᒪᓂᕐᒥᒃ: ᐊᓯᖏᑦᑕᐅᖅ ᓴᕿᔮᕐᑎᑦᑎᔪᑦ, ᑲᒪᔨᐅᔪᖅ ᑭᑎ ᓯᑳᑦ ᐃᓚᓕᐅᑎᓯᒪᔭᖓ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ 2018 ᓕᕗᐴ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᒃ ᒪᕐᕉᒃ. ᓂᕆᐅᒃᑐᒍᑦ, ᐅᑯᐊ ᑐᑭᓯᔪᑎᒋᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᖕᖏᔫᖕᒪᑕ ᐊᑐᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ

ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᔭᑦᑎᐊᖅᓯᒪᒋᓪᓗᓂᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂ. ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᖢᒍ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᓚᐅᖅᑕᑯᓗᐊᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑎᐅᑉ ᐊᓈᓇᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᓈᓇᑦᑎᐊᓂ, ᐃᒃᐱᖕᒋᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᖓᓂᑦ ᐄᐳ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᕐᒥᓂ: “ᐋᒍᓯ 1971-ᒥ, ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ

ᐊᕐᕋᒎᔪᖅ ᐃᑳᖅᓱᒪᓕᖅᑎᑦᓗᒍ ᐅᑯᐊᓗ ᐋᕿᐅᑎᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓛᖅ: ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑦ ᐅᕙᖓ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᑦ. ᑕᑯᑎᑦᑎᔪᓐᓇᓚᐅᖅᑐᖓ ᐱᓪᓲᐅᓛᖅ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᖓᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᕗᑦ ᐅᖃᓕᒫᒐᖅ. ᑕᐃᒪᓗ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᓂ ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ, ᒪᒃᐱᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᐅᑦᑕᖅᖢᒋᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᐃᒪ, ᐊᐱᕆᒐᒃᑯ ᖃᓄᖅ ᐃᓱᒪᖕᒪᖔᑦ, ᐃᑲᔪᖅᖢᓂ ᑐᓵᔨᒋᔭᕋ ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ, ‘ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᖑᓲᑎᒋᓂᐊᓐᖏᑕᕋ.” ᑕᑯᖕᖑᐊᖅᖢᒍ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ ᑕᒪᔾᔭᐅᖕᒪᑕ

ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᕐᖑᑕᖏᑦ, ᑕᑯᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᕿᔮᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᖑᐊᑎᒍᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᖏᑦᑎᒍᑦ, ᑐᑭᓯᔪᖓ ᑕᒪᓐᓇ ᑲᖕᖑᓇᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᐅᖃᐅᓯᕆᓗᒍ ᐃᒡᕕᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᕐᓂᒃ ᐅᓂᒃᑳᑦ. ᐃᒻᒪᖄ, ᐃᓂᖃᓕᑕᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᒍᑦ ᓈᓚᒍᓐᓇᖅᓯᓪᓗᑕ ᑕᒪᒃᑭᖅᖢᒋᑦ ᐳᑐᒎᑉ ᑕᑯᔭᒥᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᖁᔭᒥᓂᒃᑕᐅᖅ ᐅᕙᑦᑎᓄᑦ.

No artis­tic legacy is set in stone, and our un­der­stand­ing of her work and its im­pact will in­evitably shift and change over time. —

An­nie Pootoo­gook (1969–2016 Kin­ngait) — PRE­VI­OUS SPREAD Com­po­si­tion(Hand with Pray­ing Fig­ure) 2006Coloured pen­cil 50.8 × 66 cm ALL IMAGES RE­PRO­DUCED WITH PER­MIS­SION DORSET FINE ARTS ALL IMAGES COUR­TESY FE­HE­LEY FINE ARTS Com­po­si­tion (Evil Spirit) 2004Coloured pen­cil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm—ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᐱᐅᓐᖏᑦᑐᖅ ᑑᕐᓐᖓᖅ) 2004ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ ᐊᓂ ᐳᑐᒍᖅ (1969–2016 ᑭᓐᖓᐃᑦ) — PRE­VI­OUS SPREADᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ(ᐊᒡᒐᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᒃᓯᐊᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᖓ)2006ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ 50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᑦ ᑕᒡᕙᓂ ᑐᓂᔭᖏᑦ ᕕᕼᐃᓕ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᕆᔨᒃᑯᑦ ᑕᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᓴᕿᑎᑕᐅᑲᓐᓂᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᖕᖏᖅᑕᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑭᓐᖕᒐᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᖕᖑᐊᖅᑐᓕᕆᔨᒃᑯᓂᑦ

Fish on Floor in Kitchen 2001–2Coloured pen­cil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm ᐃᖃᓗᒃ ᓇᑎᖓᓂ ᐃᒐᕕᒃ 2001–2ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

Com­po­si­tion (Sad­ness and Re­lief for My Brother) 2006Coloured pen­cil and ink 55.9 × 76.2 cm—ᑎᑎᕋᐅᔭᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ (ᓄᒫᓱᒃᑐᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓄᐃᒐᓂ ᐊᓂᒥᓄᒃ) 2006ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ55.9 × 76.2 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

An­nie and Pit­se­o­lak 2003Coloured pen­cil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm—ᐊᓂ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑦᓯᐅᓚᖅ 2003ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

Glasses, Pen, Pen­cil, and Eraser 2006Coloured pen­cil and ink 50.8 × 66 cm ᐃᔭᐅᑏᒃ, ᐃᒪᓕᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ, ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐲᔭᐅᑎ2006ᑲᓚᖃᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᒪᖃᖅᑐᓄᑦ50.8 × 66 ᓯᓐᑕᒦᑕᔅ

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