How long have I loved Kenojuak Ashevak’s work? I can’t even begin to tell you. She’s just been part of my frame of reference for the longest time, and I’m grateful for her presence in my life. Born in 1927, on Baffin Island, she died in 2013. If you don’t know her name or her work, I hope you come to her through this blog, and that’s because I think she’s just one of the most amazing Inuit artists. You’ll most likely know her through her distinctive owls, ravens, and fish. She was considered ‘the bird artist’ of Cape Dorset, so I’m guessing that’s why I’ve always been drawn to her work…because…if you know me, you know I have a ‘thing’ for birds (and also trees). Someone once asked her about those lovely owls of hers, and she said that “every time she sat down to draw, an owl always seemed to come”(Boyd 15). Ashevak understood how life was connected, and to wander into the Art Gallery of Sudbury these days is to find yourself being still with her work, to feel gathered into her world.
I love the photos of her face…because she has a beautiful, welcoming, and evocative face that tells a story. Some people’s faces are closed up and stoic, or are hard to read. Hers isn’t…wasn’t. I use present tense because she means that much to me. I don’t think she’s really gone…because she lives on in her work. (I think of all artists and writers this way. They don’t really ‘die’ in my mind. They go–from this physical plane–but their work is still alive, full of their creative energy and spirit.) When I see photos of her, I think that Ashevak’s face is so lovely–so very alive, spirited, and full of kindness. Sitting up in Gallery 2 this afternoon, after getting wonderfully drenched with rain on the way into the Art Gallery of Sudbury (AGS), I took a breath in and thought ‘oh, I would have had questions to ask you about your birds…and your mystical women…but instead I’ll just sit here and let them speak to me.’
An old friend of mine has an original Ashevak drawing in her house and, when I used to visit her before the pandemic began, I would try not to stand for too long a time in front of that owl. I didn’t want to seem too moved or overwhelmed by its beauty, but I was. My friend had been up to Cape Dorset for work, and had bought an original drawing. You can linger too long in front of a piece of original art, in a friend’s house, with a glass of white wine in your right hand, and you can find yourself falling into the colours of the owl’s wings and feathers, transported into a place where you find beauty. I do, anyway. Often. I hope people don’t notice me getting all dreamy eyed, but I’m sure that stalking a Kenojuak owl is not a cool thing to do. (Doesn’t matter…because I’ve always been a bit dorky.)
If you take Canadian art history courses, which I did in my undergraduate time at university, you’ll learn about the importance of Cape Dorset to Inuit art. I think I first came to Ashevak at Laurentian University, to be honest, which is one more reason I need to thank the university–and the late Dr. Henry Best in particular–for introducing me to her work. Rather than me babble about it, it’s best to let her speak. This clip is strongest. There are other snippets to find on the internet, including a strange 1963 National Film Board documentary titled–rather archaically–“Eskimo Artist: Kenojuak.” You can look that up on YouTube if you want. It’s interesting, historically, but it’s not my cup of tea. I will always prefer to hear her use her own voice.
Ashevak’s talent in drawing came to the notice of Alma and James Houston–the couple who are mentioned as having started the first craft centre in Cape Dorset back in 1956. She worked on some sealskin designs, but Alma Houston soon encouraged her to try drawing. Then, men were mostly the ones who drew in the community, and Ashevak was the first woman to join them.
She began to gain prominence in the late 1960s, and she was awarded the Medal of Service of the Order of Canada in November 1967. By 2012, she was named to the Order of Nunavut, the territory’s greatest honour. That’s quite a set of ‘bookends’ to a vibrant and full career as an artist, to be sure, but her work…I think…is the real beauty.
I always say, when I write these reviews of exhibits at the AGS, that I’m not an art historian. It’s my attempt at a disclaimer. I just really love to be with (and in close proximity to) original art. I love beauty, and I cultivate it in how I curate my own home with art. (A childhood friend who lives in Montreal calls me a ‘voluptuary.’ For a while, I had trouble with accepting that definition…but then I thought about it some more…and I think I’m in there somehow. I like scents, tastes, colours, and touching textures and fabrics, so I guess that friend knows me more than I know myself. She’s watched me grope historic houses over the decades, too, so I’ll give her that. Maybe ‘voluptuary’ works.) All this is to say, my blogs about art exhibitions at the gallery are…more about how the art makes me feel than think about it in a critical or cerebral fashion. I just really want to slip into the art. That’s all…really…
Find yourself a seat when you go. My favourite place to sit is in the middle of Gallery 2. You need to book ahead for these visits because of Covid, but it’s kind of lovely to have a whole art gallery to yourself for an hour. It gives you the space to sit and think, to be with yourself, and to be with Ashevak’s beauty.
Take a look at her mystical women, with Wisdom of the Elders (2009), and Eternal Spirit (2011). Think about how those women are at the centre of things–as heartbeats, lighthouses, observers, caregivers, lovers, mothers, sisters, and daughters. She knew how to ‘speak’ about how the world was woven, and that’s what I love about her. I don’t have the fancy schmancy, super technical, academic art historian language to tell you why, but I can tell you that I feel it in my body–when I breathe, when I listen to my heartbeat, and when I root my feet down to the ground to stand tall and walk forward. Ashevak feels strong to me when I sit in the presence of her work. Powerful.
Wisdom of the Elders (2009), ink and coloured pencil
I am, though, as I’ve said, drawn to her birds most of all. That means the owls, of course, and the ravens. Black birds–crows, ravens, red-winged blackbirds, and my little magpies–have always entranced me. In Irish tradition, The Morrigan is a figure I’m drawn to. She’s transformative and mythic. The Morrigu, as she’s also sometimes called, is linked symbolically to war and battle, and can shapeshift into the form of a bird. She’s about endings and beginnings, about death and rebirth, about despair and hope. That’s what I like about her: she isn’t easily defined or boxed up or in. So. Put me amongst the birds, feathered or painted, out in the bush, and I’m a very happy woman.
Here are a few of my favourite pieces from the current AGS show:
Dancing Ravens (2003), ink and coloured pencil
Spectacular Ravens (2003), ink and coloured pencil
Owls Enveloped (2004), ink
Please don’t forget to see the fish in Gallery 1. I grew up fishing with my dad on the Narrows of Lake Nipissing, so I’m fond of fish drawings, too. Take my word for it: go right up to those three beautiful fish drawings to the left of the entrance of Gallery 1 and just choose one fish drawing. Go up to it. Lean in close (but don’t touch it because that’s not allowed and might be illegal!) and look right into the fish’s eye. Then, look over the body of your chosen fish. See how Kenojuak Ashevak has used the ink and coloured pencils to create the sense of scales. Look at the work. Closely. Carefully. Breathe it in. Close your eyes. Open them again. And look again….even more closely.
This exhibition, Kenojuak Ashevak–Life & Legacy, is on loan from the West Baffin Eskimo Co-Operative Limited, in Cape Dorset, Nunavut. We’re lucky to have it coming here to Greater Sudbury. It runs until the end of May. You just need to call the Gallery at 705-675-4871 to book your hour. You can visit with people who are in your immediate bubble. Bring your mask. Sanitize your hands. Do the covid stuff. To be honest, though, maybe go twice…because that’s what I’m going to do. Be sure to go once on your own…so you can sit with Ashevak and her beauty and breathe into it all. It’s soul stuff, this one, and it’s lovely…especially on a rainy day in March.
peace,
k.
(*You can buy a copy of a beautiful book that accompanies the exhibit, published by Pomegranate Press, so be sure to bring some pocket money. It’s $25 and well worth the investment if you love art.)
The Republic of Poetry 
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