Qaumajuq an inspiring bridge to northern culture

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This article was published 31/03/2021 (1624 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I may not know a lot about art, but I know that I like Qaumajuq. And I like it a lot.

I was lucky enough to be there early Saturday evening on the first day the Winnipeg Art Gallery’s new Inuit Art Centre opened to the general public.

I was there because — and this comes straight from the heart — my buddy Bob, who happens to be the publisher of this newspaper, made sure to get tickets online so that we could take our wives to the historic opening.

Before we went, it occurred to me that I should learn the correct pronunciation of the name given to the world’s largest collection of traditional and contemporary Inuit art by Indigenous language keepers.

On Friday, while working at the office after a power outage chased me out of my house, I repeatedly practised saying “Qaumajuq” (pronounced KOW-ma-yourk and sometimes heard HOW-ma-yourq) to my colleagues.

I mangled it so (bad word) badly that, at one point, my editor, working busily in his office, turned away from his computer and politely shouted: “DOUG, IT’S KOW-ma-yourk!!!”

Naturally, when we walked in the building after completing our online COVID-19 health check, I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the structure, the undulating curves of which mimic an iceberg, that I again drew a blank on the pronunciation.

“Excuse me,” I whispered to the masked staff member ushering us inside, “can you remind me how to say the name?”

In response, he smiled — at least I think he did, but it’s hard to be sure with the masks and everything — and his eyes sparkled as he chirped: “You bet. It’s KOW-ma-yourk.”

I repeated the name until my guide nodded his head in approval, and then we were awestruck by the stunning beauty of Qaumajuq’s centrepiece — a towering three-storey glass vault that houses roughly 5,000 carvings and features an internal elevator and conservator workspace so gallery staff can care for the carvings and teach about them while visitors look on.

As Bob and I craned our necks to take in the vista, we were greeted by Darlene Coward Wight, the WAG’s curator for Inuit art, who not only explained what we were looking at, but allowed us to join her inside the visible vault for a special sneak peek.

It is difficult, using mere words, to explain what it was like being on the inside of that towering transparent structure with shelves jammed with thousands of amazing carvings, but I will try: It was really, really cool and slightly nerve-wracking because I am a six-foot-four, 300-pound columnist who was in a confined area with a lot of potentially fragile art on glass shelves.

You could see the pride in the curator’s eyes as she talked about the history of these soapstone carvings, previously hidden from view in storage in the WAG’s basement.

We would likely still be talking to her, but it turns out we somehow forgot to close the door to this restricted area behind us, which allowed an older visitor to wander in and begin poking around, at which point we all wisely scuttled back outside.

When we finally worked our way to the third floor, I spotted a sculpture that I was positive I recognized. “Look!” I commanded, pointing at a stubby clay bird. “It’s a penguin!”

Which is when my buddy Bob, who may not be an art expert but is familiar with where the majority of the world’s penguins are located, scowled at me and explained: “Doug, you do know that penguins don’t live in the Arctic, right?”

Moments later, our eyes were riveted on an out-of-this-world exhibit — a spacesuit crafted from sealskin by Iqaluit artist Jesse Tungilik and students at Concordia University.

“They may not have penguins, but they DO have astronauts,” I sagely pointed out to Bob before moving briskly away.

By the end of our visit, it dawned on me there is so much more to Qaumajuq than just breathtaking architecture and artwork. The 40,000-square-foot facility is also a bridge between north and south, a cultural and artistic link that will lead to a better understanding of Canada and the Inuit people’s culture, art and stories.

Which is why the name gifted to the centre by its Indigenous Advisory Circle is so important. Qaumajuq is an Inuktitut name meaning “it is bright, it is lit,” a reference to the sunlight that pours into the building through the glass walls and 22 large skylights.

As a Free Press editorial pointed out, when missionaries and federal government officials had difficulty pronouncing Inuit names, the government responded by issuing them disks with serial numbers that Inuit were to hang around their necks. The disks signified they were natural resources to be exploited rather than citizens of Canada.

The WAG’s Facebook page features a short video on how to pronounce Qaumajuq. I recommend everyone check it out, because when we tell everyone how proud we are of Winnipeg’s newest jewel, we need to say its name correctly.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca