From woodblock to stonecut 

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    ᓗᒃᑕ ᕿᐊᑦᓱᖅ, 1962, ᑭᓪᓗᐃᔪᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕋᑦᓴᒥᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒥᑦ ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ ᐋᓯᕙᐅᑉ “ᓯᕿᓂᐅᑉ ᐅᑎᕐᓂᖓ” (The Arrival of the Sun) ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖓᓄᑦ. Lukta Qiatsuq, 1962, cutting the stone block for Kenojuak Ashevak’s “The Arrival of the Sun.” Courtesy Dorset Fine Arts.

    ᕿᔪᒻᒥᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᓂᕐᒥᑦ 

    ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓅᕙᓪᓕᐊᓂᖓ ᔮᐸᓃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᓕᐊᖏᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᖓᓂ

     ᑭᓕᐊᕐ ᕗᓵᑦ ᑎᑎᕋᖅᑕᖓ

    ᒪᓐᑐᕆᐋᒥᒃ ᐃᓅᓂᑰᔪᖅ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᖅᓯᒪᔪᒻᒥᕆᒃ ᔭᐃᒻᔅ ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᑎᑭᒋᐅᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᑲᓇᓐᓇᖓᓄᑦ 1940−ᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᑕᐃᑦᓱᒪᓂ, ᐱᖃᓐᓇᕆᔭᖅᑖᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᖅᐸᓕᖅᑐᓂᓗ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᕐᓂᒃ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᕙᑦᑐᓂᒋᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᓴᕆᕙᑦᑐᓂᒋᓪᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᑦ. ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᒻᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᐅᒥᐊᕐᔪᐊᕐᓄᑦ ᑎᑭᑕᐅᕙᑦᑐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᖅᓰᖃᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓄᑦ ᑎᑭᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐊᕝᕕᓂᐊᖅᑎᓄᑦ ᕼᐊᓐᓇᓚᑦ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑦ ᐅᖓᑖᓄᑦ, ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓕᓴᕆᔭᐅᒍᓐᓇᖅᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᓂᕐᒥᐅᑕᕐᓄᑦ “ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ,” ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᒋᔭᐅᓪᓚᕆᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ, ᑕᐃᒫᒃ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᑲᔪᖅᓱᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑭᖑᓪᓕᕐᒥᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᓴᖅᑮᓂᐊᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ ᐃᓂᑦᓴᒥᑦ ᓴᓇᖃᑦᑕᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᓴᖃᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᒥᖅᓱᕋᕐᓂᒃ. 

    ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓄᑦ ᖁᓕᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᐅᔾᔨᖅᓱᓕᒻᒪᕆᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᓂᐅᕕᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒍᒪᓂᕆᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᓂᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᐃᓕᓴᖅᓯᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᒍᒪᔭᐅᕐᔪᐊᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᒪᓕᑦᑐᒋᑦ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᐃᒻᒥᓂ ᑮᓇᐅᔾᔭᕋᓱᐊᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᖃᑦᑕᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᒥᓂᒃ ᓄᐊᑦᓯᔨᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᐅᑉ ᓂᒋᐊᓂ ᓯᓚᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥᓪᓗ. ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖃᑦᓯᐊᕐᓂᖓ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᒍᑕᐅᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕐᓂᖅ ᑮᓇᐅᔾᔭᕈᑕᐅᓪᓗᐊᑕᓕᖅᓱᓂ ᐊᒥᓱᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᑐᑭᓯᐅᒪᙱᓗᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᓪᓚᕆᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᐅᕐᔪᐊᕐᓂᕆᔭᖓᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᕙᑦᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓄᖅᑲᕈᑕᐅᓯᒪᕗᖅ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑏᑦ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᕈᒪᒍᓐᓃᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᑎᒃ. 

    ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᒥᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐊᓐᓄᕌᓄᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᖄᖏᑦ, ᐃᓪᓗᒌᖓᓕᔪᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᑉᐸᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᙱᑦᑑᒐᓗᐊᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓱᓇᒃᑯᑖᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓂ ᑕᐃᑲᓂᑭᓯᐊᓂ 1950−ᖏᓐᓂᒃ. ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᑐᓐᓂᖅᓴᐃᖃᑦᑕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᕋᐅᑎᓂᓪᓗ ᐃᓄᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖓᓂ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ (ᑕᐃᑦᓱᒪᓂ ᑲᐃᑉ ᑐᐊᓴᑦ), ᐃᓅᓱᑦᑐᒧᓪᓗ ᐊᕐᓇᒧᑦ ᐊᑎᖃᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ ᐋᓯᕙᕐᒥᑦ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖁᓕᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᕐᓂᐊᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᑕᐅᒃᑲᓐᓂᓗᑎᓗ ᐊᑭᓐᓇᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᓂᐊᕐᓗᑎᒃ. ᓂᐅᕐᕈᑎᖃᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᓇᑭᑦ ᐱᒋᐊᙵᕐᓂᖃᕐᓂᕐᒪᖔᑦᑕ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᓴᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᐃᑦ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᐊ ᓴᖅᑭᐸᓪᓕᐊᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᖅᑲᓂᒃ ᐱᓯᒪᑦᓯᖃᑦᑕᓕᕆᐊᖃᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓄᑦ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. ᓴᓇᔭᐅᙵᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐋᓯᕙᒻᒧᑦ, ᑲᓇᖏᓇᖅ ᐳᑐᒍᕐᒧᑦ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑦᓯᐊᓛᖅ ᐊᓲᓇᒧᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᔮᖅᑎᑦᓯᔪᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᓂᖃᕈᒪᓪ ᓚᕆᓚᐅᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᐅᔨᑦᑕᐃᓕᒪᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓂ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᔪᓂᒃ, ᐃᑉᐱᒍᓱᑦᓯᐊᓯᓐᓈᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑑᑉ ᐊᕙᑎᖓᓂ ᐆᒪᔪᖏᓐᓂᓪᓗ. 

    ᕿᓐᓄᐊᔪᐊᖅ ᐋᓯᕙᒃ, “ᐅᑲᓕᖅ ᑯᐊᓐᓂᑐᖅᑐᖅ” (Rabbit Eating Seaweed), 1958-9, ᕿᓯᕋᕐᒧᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. Kenojuak Ashevak, “Rabbit Eating Seaweed,” 1958-9, sealskin stencil. Courtesy Dorset Fine Arts.

    1958−ᒥᑦ, ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᓂᐅᕐᕈᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ ᔭᐹᓐᒧᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒋᐊᒃᑲᓂᕋᐊᖅᓱᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᑖᑦᓱᒧᖓ ᐅᓂ∍ᓂᑦᓯ ᕼᐃᕋᑦᓱᑲ, ᐃᓕᓴᕆᔭᐅᔪᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒃ ᐅᓇᑕᕕᔾᔪᐊᓚᐅᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ σōsaku-hanga ᐅᕝᕙᓘᓐᓃᑦ “ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᐃᑦ” ᐱᓕᕆᐊᖑᓂᖓ. ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᐱᐅᑦᓴᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓗᐊᙱᑦᑐᖅ, ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᑦ ᕼᐃᕋᑦᓱᑲ ᐱᓕᕆᔨᖏᓪᓗ ᓴᖅᑭᓚᐅᖅᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᕿᔪᓐᓄᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᒥᓱᓂᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᒥᐊᕐᒥᑦ ᒥᖑᖓᖅᓯᓗᑎᒃ ᐊᑕᐅᓯᕐᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᓯᒪᔪᒧᑦ ᕿᔪᒻᒧᑦ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᕐᒨᖅᓯᓗᑎᒃ. ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᑕᒫᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑕᐅᔪᒥᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᓄᐊᑕᐅᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᖃᒃᑲᓐᓂᔾᔮᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᕐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᓂᖅᐹᖑᒐᔭᖅᑐᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᓂᖅᓴᐅᓂᐊᕐᖓᑕ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓂᐅᕕᕈᒪᔪᓄᑦ. ᔮᐸᓃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕈᑎᖏᓐᓄᑦ, ᐅᐊᓯ ᐸᐃᑉᐹᖅ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᓂᖓ σōsaku-hanga ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓂᒃ ᓇᑦᓴᖅᓱᓂ, ᕼᐃᐅᔅᑕᓐ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ. 

    ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᓇᐹᖅᑐᐃᑦ ᑭᓪᓕᖓᑕ ᖁᓛᓃᒻᒪᑦ, ᕿᔪᑦᑕᖃᓗᐊᙱᑦᑐᖅ, ᑕᐃᒫᒃ ᕿᔪᓐᓄᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᐅᕐᓂᖅ ᐊᑲᐅᓈᓗᐊᓚᐅᙱᑦᑐᖅ. ᑭᓯᐊᓂ, ᐊᔪᙱᑦᑐᐊᓗᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓪ ᓚᕆᐊᓗᓐᓂᒃ ᐱᑕᖃᕇᓚᐅᕐᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᖓᓂ, ᓄᑖᕐᒥᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓕᐅᖃᑦᑕᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᓄᑦ, ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᑦ ᓴᖅᑭᑕᐅᕙᑦᑐᑦ ᐱᐊᑦᑕᒧᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒧᑦ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐱᔭᐅᕙᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕋᑦᓴᓂᒃ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᓂᒃ. ᑖᓐᓇ ᐊᑐᖅᑕᐅᓲᖅ ᔮᐸᓃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᕋᐅᓯᖓᑦ ᓱᓇᒃᑯᑖᓄᑦ ᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᔪᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᕐᒥᑦ ᓄᓇᖃᖅᑳᖅᓯᒪᔪᓅᖓᑎᑦᓯᒋᐊᓪᓚᑦᑐᖅ: ᕿᒥᕐᕈᐊᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᓯᖏᑕ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓂ ᐊᑐᖃᓯᐅᑎᓂᕐᒥᓪᓗ ᐊᑑᑎᖃᑦᓯᐊᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᐅᕙᒌᖅᑐᓄᑦ. ᑖᒃᑯᐊᑎᑑᖏᑦᑐᕐᓕ sōsaku-hanga ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᑖᓐᓇ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎ ᓴᖅᑮᓲᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖓᓂᒃ, ᓴᓇᓕᕐᓗᓂᐅᒃ ᕿᔪᒻᒥᑦ, ᐲᔭᐃᓲᖑᓪᓗᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᑕᒪᕐᒥᐸᓗᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑏᑦ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑳᓲᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᖃᑎᖃᓕᕐᓗᑎᒃ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᓪᓚᕆᐊᓗᒻᒥᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᒃᑲᓐᓂᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᑦᓯᐊᖓᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᙵᖅᓯᒪᔪᖓᓂᒃ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒧᑦ. ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒥᑦ ᓴᓇᔪᖅ ᐆᑦᑐᕋᓕᓲᒃ ᐊᔾᔨᒌᙱᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᒥᐊᕐᓂᒃ, ᐃᓛᓐᓂᒃᑯᑦ ᐃᓚᓯᕙᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᕿᓯᕋᔭᙳᐊᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᒃᑮᑦ ᓈᒻᒪᑦᓴᖅᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᒐᓱᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑭᑕᐅᔪᒥᒃ. ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᐅᔪᖅ ᑕᐃᒫᑦᓴᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᓕᓲᖅ 50-ᓂᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᖃᑦᑕᖅᓱᓂᒃ ᐃᓗᐃᑦᑑᓪᓗᑎ ᑖᑦᓱᒥᖓᑦᓴᐃᓐᓇᖅ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᕐᒥᑦ. ᐱᔭᕇᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑎᓪᓗᒍ, ᐊᒋᐊᖅᑕᐅᓕᓲᖅ ᐲᔭᖅᑕᐅᑦᓱᓂ ᐊᑐᒃᑲᓐᓂᓐᓂᐊᕐᖓᑦ − ᑲᔪᓯᑦᓯᐊᑎᑦᓯᒍᓐᓇᓲᑦ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑦᑐᒧᑦ ᓄᑖᖑᔪᒧᑦ ᓱᓇᒃᑯᑖᕐᒧᑦ. 

    ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖓ ᓴᖅᑭᙵᐅᑎᓚᐅᖅᑐᑦ ᓯᕗᓪᓕᖅᐹᒥᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖏᓐᓂᒃ 1959−ᒥᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᙵᓂᓗ ᑭᙵᕐᒥᐅᑕᐅᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑎᖏᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᙳᐊᓕᐅᕈᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᑭᖑᕚᖏᓐᓄᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᑎᑦᓯᓯᒪᔪᑦ, ᐊᑦᓱᕈᖅᑎᑦᓯᒋᐊᓲᑦ ᓂᒋᐊᓂ ᓂᐅᕕᐊᑦᓴᖃᖅᑏᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᓂᕐᓗᓐᓂᕆᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕆᔭᒥᓂᒃ. ᑕᑯᔪᒥᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᐸᓪᓗᖅ ᐳᓪᓚᐅᑉ 1976−ᒥᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒧᑦ ᖃᖓᑕᓲᖅ (Aeroplane) ᑕᑯᑦᓴᐅᑎᑦᓯᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᐅᑕᕐᓂᒃ ᐃᓅᓯᕆᔭᐅᔪᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐃᓪᓗᕕᒐᐅᑐᐃᓐᓇᖏᑦᑐᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑦᑐᑐᐃᓐᓇᐅᖏᑦᑐᑦ, ᐃᓄᓕᒫᑦ ᑐᑭᓯᓂᖅᓴᐅᑎᑕᐅᓕᖅᓱᑎᒃ “ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᖏᑦ” ᑭᓲᒻᒪᖔᑦᑕ, ᐃᓄᐃᓪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓ ᐊᓯᐊᓚᐅᖅᓯᒪᙱᓐᓂᖓᓂ ᐊᐅᓚᑕᐅᕐᔪᐊᓕᕋᓗᐊᖅᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ. 

    ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐅᔭᖅᑎᖏᑦ ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖓᓂ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᐃᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓂ, ᔮᐸᓃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᔾᔪᑎᖏᓐᓂᒃ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᓪᓗᓈᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕆᔭᖓᓂ ᐊᔾᔨᐅᙱᑦᑐᒻᒪᕆᐊᓗᒻᒧᑦ ᓴᓇᐅᒐᕐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᑦᑕᐅᔪᒃᑯᑦ ᐱᔨᒪᑦᓯᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑐᑭᓯᐅᒪᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᑕᐅᖅᓰᓂᕐᒥᑦ. ᐊᑐᓂ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᖅᓯᒪᔪᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐃᑦ ᓴᖅᑮᕙᓪᓕᐊᔪᑦ ᐊᑦᓱᕉᑕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᓯᓚᑖᓃᑦᑐᓄᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᑦᑕᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐃᓅᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓᓂ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᐅᓪᓗ ᓴᖅᑮᔪᒪᓂᖓᓗ ᐃᖅᑲᐅᒪᔭᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᖅᑯᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᖓ ᐊᓯᐅᑉᐸᓪᓕᐊᑎᓪᓗᒍ. ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᓐᓂᐅᑉ ᑲᔪᓯᓂᖃᑦᓯᐊᖅᓯᒪᓂᖓ ᑭᙵᕐᓂ ᐱᒋᐊᙵᕈᑕᐅᓕᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓂᕐᒧᑦ ᐃᓂᑦᓴᓕᐅᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᐊᓯᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᐅᔪᓂᒃ ᑖᕙᓂ ᐳᕕᕐᓂᑑᕐᒥ, ᐅᓗᒃᕼᐊᒃᑑᕐᒥ, ᖃᒪᓂᑦᑎᐊᕐᒥ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐸᓐᓂᖅᑑᒥ. ᑲᓲᒪᓂᖏᑦ ᔮᐸᓃᓯᒃᑯᑦ ᕿᔪᒻᒧᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐃᓚᖃᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᓇᕿᒻᒥᔭᐅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ “ᓵᑉ” ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᐃᑉ ᑎᕆᖅᑯᖓᓂ ᐊᑐᓂ ᑲᑎᙵᔪᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᒥᑦ ᓇᓗᓇᐃᖅᓯᓪᓗᓂ ᓇᓕᐊᓐᓂᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᒻᒥᑦ ᓴᓇᔭᐅᓂᕐᒪᖔᖅ. 

    ᐸᓪᓗᖅ ᐳᓪᓚᑦ, “ᖃᖓᑕᓲᖅ” (Aeroplane) (1976), ᓴᓇᙳᐊᕋᑦᓴᒥᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ. Pudlo Pudlat, “Aeroplane” (1976), stone cut and stencil. Courtesy Dorset Fine Arts.

    ᖁᔭᓕᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᖅᑎᐅᔪᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᑖᒃᑯᐊ ᐋᓯᕙᒃ, ᐳᓪᓚᑦ, ᐃᓂᒋᐊᓪᓗ ᐊᒥᓱᑦ ᐊᑦᓱᕈᕐᓇᖅᑐᒥᑦ ᐱᓕᕆᒍᓐᓇᖅᓯᓚᐅᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐃᓕᖅᑯᓯᕐᒧᑦ ᑲᑎᖃᑎᖃᓕᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᓴᖅᑮᑦᓯᐊᓂᕐᒥᑦ ᐱᐅᔪᕐᔪᐊᕌᓗᓐᓂᒃ, ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᕋᖅᑕᖏᑦ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔭᐅᑦᓯᐊᓕᖅᑐᑦ. ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᖓ ᐃᓚᖃᓕᕐᒥᔪᖅ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᓯᐅᑎᒥᒃ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᕐᕕᒻᒥᑦ, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᒻᒪᕇᓪᓗ ᐊᔪᕈᓐᓃᖅᓴᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᑦ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓄᑦ, ᐊᑐᖃᑦᑕᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᑐᕈᓐᓃᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᑐᒐᕐᕕᕕᓂᕐᓂᒃ ᐅᔭᕋᕐᓄᑦ ᐆᑦᑑᑎᑦᓴᖏᓐᓄᑦ. ᑭᙵᕐᒥᐅᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᖏᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᐅᒍᓐᓇᖅᑐᑦ ᑕᑯᔭᒐᖃᕐᕕᓐᓂᑦ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᒥᑦ, ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊᓗ ᐅᓪᓗᒥᓯᐅᑏᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᖏᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓱᕕᓇᐃ ᐊᓲᓇ, ᐅᓘᓯ ᓴᐃᓚ, ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐋᓂ ᐳᑐᒎᔪᔪᖅ, ᑕᑯᔭᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᑐᒻᒪᕆᐅᓗᐃᑦ ᖁᕕᐊᓲᑕᐅᖃᑦᑕᖅᓱᑎᓗ ᓴᓇᙳᐊᑎᐅᔪᓄᑦ. ᑭᖑᕚᕇᖑᔪᑦ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᑎᑦᓯᖃᑦᑕᐅᑎᕙᑦᓱᑎᒃ ᓄᑖᙳᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᔪᓂᓪᓗ ᐊᑐᖅᓱᑎᒃ, ᑭᙵᐃᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᑎᖏᑦ ᐱᐅᓯᕙᓪᓕᐊᑐᐃᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᓯᔾᔨᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓪᓗᓂᓗ ᑲᓲᒪᖃᑎᖃᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᐅᐊᑦᓯᐊᕉᓚᐅᖅᑐᒧᑦ ᐊᖅᑯᓯᐅᓯᓐᓈᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᓯᕗᓂᑦᓴᑦᓯᐊᕙᒻᒧᑦ ᐃᓅᔪᓄᑦ ᓄᓇᓕᐅᔪᒧᑦ. 

    The Indigenization of Japanese Printmaking in Arctic Canada

    Montreal-born artist and marketing aficionado James Houston first travelled to the Eastern Arctic in the late 1940s. During this time, he befriended several Inuit carvers and began amassing a collection of stone sculptures that he could showcase and resell in the South. As Inuit living near seaport towns had traded their carvings to European settlers and whalers for over a century, these stone works were recognizable to Southern audiences as “Eskimo art,” and greatly appealed to the Modernist aesthetic sensibilities of mid-century consumers. Houston’s initial exhibitions of Inuit art were met with great enthusiasm, prompting the Canadian Handicrafts Guild to sponsor his next journey North to begin developing an infrastructure for the production and distribution of Inuit-made artworks and handicrafts. 

    Over the course of the next decade Inuit artists developed an acute awareness of the non-Native consumer’s preconceptions about their culture and traditions. In recognizing and partially obliging the market’s demands of them, Inuit creators began to financially support themselves through the sale of their artwork to collectors in southern Canada and around the world. The commercial success of Inuit art has allowed artmaking to become a key source of income for several Arctic communities, but a lack of understanding of the true cultural and historical richness of their work has left many Inuit artists relegated to the periphery of the mainstream art market. 

    Aside from sewn appliqués on clothing and the engraved surfaces of carvings, two-dimensional rendering was effectively nonexistent in Inuit material culture until the 1950s. Houston distributed paper and pencils to several members of the Inuit community in Kinngait (then known as Cape Dorset), including a young woman by the name of Kenojuak Ashevak, and asked them to create images for him to purchase and potentially reproduce as prints. Despite its commercial origins and the influence of a biased market, the graphic arts tradition that emerged became an essential form of record keeping for the Indigenous population in an era of forced assimilation. Early works by Ashevak, Kananginak Pootoogook, and Pitseolak Ashoona demonstrate an unswayable commitment to the preservation of Inuit cultural knowledge, as well as a profound respect for the Arctic environment and its wildlife. 

    ᐅᓂ’ᓂᑦᓯ ᕼᐃᕋᑦᓱᑲ ᕿᔪᒻᒧᑦ ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅᓯᒪᔪᖅ, 1935. Un’ichi Hiratsuka woodblock print, 1935. Image courtesy Un’ichi Hiratsuka

    In 1958, Houston travelled to Japan to deepen his knowledge of printmaking under the tutelage of Un’ichi Hiratsuka, a prominent figure in the postwar sōsaku-hanga, or ‘creative prints’ movement. Houston admired the simple, iconic imagery Hiratsuka and his colleagues created through woodblock printmaking, a technique in which countless pictures can be created by transferring ink from a single carved piece of wood onto paper. Houston believed an annually released collection of limited-edition prints would be the best avenue to bring more Inuit art to the enthusiastic Inuit art consumers. With Japanese tools, washi paper, and a selection of sōsaku-hanga prints in hand, Houston returned to the Arctic. 

    As Kinngait falls above the tree line, wood is a limited resource, making traditional woodblock printing rather impractical. However, with so many skilled carvers already in the community, a new form of printmaking called stonecut was born, in which relief images are incised into a smooth slab of locally sourced stone. This application of a Japanese art-making technique to the materials available in the Arctic epitomizes the ingenuity of indigenization: sifting through the traditions of another culture and incorporating certain useful aspects into existing practices. Unlike sōsaku-hanga printmaking in which the artist creates the image, carves the woodblock, and pulls the prints, most graphic artists in Kinngait produce a drawing and then collaborate with an experienced carver to reproduce a mirror image of the original in stone. The artist and stonecutter then experiment with a variety of inks, at times adding to the composition with sealskin stencils until they are both satisfied with the result. The printmaker then repeats this process 50 times to produce a full edition of the same image. Upon completion, the relief is then ground down to a smooth slab and reused – an exercise in sustainability afforded by this new material. 

    Kinngait Studios released its first print collection in 1959, and in the years that followed Kinngait’s graphic artists have passed down their image-making techniques from generation to generation, always pushing the envelope to challenge the Southern market’s misconceptions about their culture. Catalytic works like Pudlo Pudlat’s 1976 stone cut “Aeroplane” showed the world that life in the Arctic is much more than igloos and caribou, thus transforming the public’s understanding of what constitutes “Inuit art,” and asserting the survivance of Inuit culture despite centuries of colonization. 

    ᐅᓘᓯ ᓴᐃᓚ, “ᐱᖃᓗᔭᖅ” (Solitary Iceberg), 2020, ᑎᑎᖅᑐᒐᖅ. Ooloosie Saila, “Solitary Iceberg,” 2020, lithograph Artwork courtesy the artist and Dorset Fine Arts, reproduction photography by Roman Dean.

    The artists of Kinngait Studios have brilliantly blended Inuit culture, Japanese technology, and Western aesthetics into an entirely unique graphic arts tradition that acts as a visual record of cultural and political exchange. Each print collection exemplifies the shifting tensions between the external perception of Inuit life and culture, and the individual artist’s internal desire to preserve memories and traditions in the face of encroaching acculturation. The success of the printmaking initiative in Kinngait led to the establishment of print shops in other Arctic communities including Puvirnituq, Ulukhaktok, Baker Lake, and Pangnirtung. The connection to Japanese woodblock printing is still evident today with the inclusion of a stamped “chop” in the corner of each editioned print identifying the studio where it was produced. 

    Thanks to pioneering artists like Ashevak, Pudlat, and countless others who managed to navigate the complex landscape of this cultural collision to create consistently beautiful work, Inuit printmaking is now world-renowned. Kinngait Studios now includes a state-of-the-art lithography studio, and the master printmakers continually adapt their techniques to the changing world, now using recycled pool table slates as their stone cut canvases. The works of Kinngait artists can be found in museum collections across the globe, and contemporary Inuit artists like Shuvinai Ashoona, Ooloosie Saila, and the late Annie Pootoogook, are increasingly accepted and celebrated within the mainstream art world. Fueled by intergenerational mentorship and fearless innovation, Kinngait’s distinctive graphic arts tradition continues to blossom and evolve as an indispensable connection to the past while paving the way towards a better future for the Inuit community. 

    VIAClaire Foussard
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