Dear Arctic newsletter,
Between June 25 and August 18 2010 I lived in Iqaluit. The decision to
move to Iqaluit for the summer was made on short notice. After all, it
was little over two weeks before that I was volunteering at a booth at
General synod. On the first day at General synod I put my name into a
draw at the Arctic Diocese booth for a ticket to Iqaluit. The draw
forgotten, the week went on until one day, on the bus, I get a call
from Debra Gillis from Yellowknife -she was in Halifax at the time for
General synod. I met Debra at her booth and gave her my name and
number, I still did not realize that I won a plane ticket, in fact I
was probably half a sleep. When Debra told me that I wont a place
ticket to Iqaluit. I jumped in sheer surprise. The ticket could have
gone to anyone, maybe Barack Obama or our primate Fred Hiltz,
thankfully it didn't go to Stephen Harper nor Michael Ignatieff
because they already visit too much. The odd thing is that I did not
feel like I had won a prize, it felt like I had mission to visit St.
Jude's Cathedral and then tell people in the south about it. Thank-you
Arctic Diocese for the plane ticket.
I would not have been able to stay longer than a week or two if not
for the kindness of strangers. From day one Captain Rus and Father
Brian Burrows made sure I was fed and had a place to stay. Members of
the committee for the reconstruction of St. Jude's Cathedral gave
advice on finding a job, and others became friends. At long last I
found employment at Northmart where I worked in the stereo section. I
liked it here because I could chat with folks I had met in Iqaluit and
meet other people. For fun I would walk through the Tundra and
collect flowers and take pictures. I will never forget the sight of
the purple saxifrage blanketing the ground. Sometimes I even went to
the movies, once with my friend Markoosie. I don't know Markoosie's
last name but I wish I could send him a letter, we had fun
conversations at North mart. I also liked to visit the Library. The
library always had nice people to talk to and so many great books. On
Sunday's I went to church and played my violin at the english service.
Sometime's I went to an Inuktitut speaking service at St. Jude's or
St. Simon's where I witnessed the devotion of Inuit in their worship.
Now I should to learn to speak Inuktitut. One time I went fishing and
I had one bite. I was happy about this. Afterwards my friend Tommie
gave me a dried arctic char, extremely tasty!
Now I am living in Halifax where I learn about different religions at
school. Maybe one day I will learn about the old religon of the Inuit.
When I write this letter I am looking over a bay with lots of
sailboats floating in the water. In a couple weeks the owners will
store their boats for winter. Across the bay there alot of trees. I
like to tell everyone about Iqaluit and the building of the Cathedral.
Its nice to be here but I miss Iqaluit. Lastly, maybe my friends like
Jo, Pauloosie, Tommie, Markoosie, Tyler, Lindsay, and Colin, and all
my friends from Northmart, don't read this newsletter so if you see
them please say hello.
Yours sincerely,
Ted “the friendly housesitter” Williams
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Once more I trekked into the tundra. Uphill, from downtown, along paved roads winding between ridges. The hills are high around Iqaluit. This is because glaciers during the last ice age took gouges of land with them as they receded. Resulting in ridges and valleys as well as Frobisher Bay and its inlets. From up high you can see how this forms a pattern in the land, lines are parallel to each, easy to see due to lakes from melted snow as well as small and great rivers alike which point out where the land is low. At the edge of town, right after a lot with a completed foundation- 8 steel beams laying across six steel stilts- and a pre-fabricated frame compact in its package so that it looks like a giant lego piece, the road merges into something narrower and at somepoint -the dust makes it hard to see- you are on gravel. You, dear reader, know this route as the road to nowhere. A jeep passes, stops, and an occupant jumps out and exuberantly runs ahead while the jeep follows. They were out of sight when I treaded unto tundra and downwards to a river. I took my boots off, my pants and shirt followed suit. Mosquito bites. I walk forward.Imbalanced on slippery rocks, my feet are like extensions beginning at my ankles abruptly. Kids shout upstream, rocks replaced by deep warm mud. I enter the deep, splash, heaven -away from the bugs I hope. The water being shallow is warm. Tread water, plunge -my feet touch mud bottom, front crawl -blue sky speckled by dastartdly squeetos. Ashore, I grab my towel. The river which I am beside runs to Apex and I decided that nothing would be more enjoyable than to walk there barefoot in the river. This is difficult. Cautiously, I step from one slippery rock to the next, my body is weighed towards the arm carrying my clothing and boots. My other hand occasionally holds a digital camera, which I always return to the bag after taking a photo. A disaster waiting to happen I return to firm land. At this point I dared myself to finish the hike still in my bathing suit. It was more pleasant on land and I figured if I never stood still the bites would be few and far between. I was wrong. Nonetheless the sensation of feeling the Tundra on my feet will be a favourite memory. The lichen, mosses, rocks and flowers resulted in changing texture: cold, wet, brittle, pointy, spongy.
Although plenty of purple saxifrage can be found in the city, its out here where they are in their glory. Strewn across the land from its hillsides, to riversides and marshy areas. The dozen bites I got when I stopped to take a photo did not displace my happiness. I hung my towel around my back and kept marching, but then I zigzaged and backtracked for better angles. I took a second dip into the river, a moments liberation.
Soon I reached a gorge when the river dropped until Apex. I am readying to take a photo as the battery dies, a moment later an even better photo: Apex is in view. Apex is the original permanent settlement on this part of Frobisher Bay and is 4.5 km up the bay from Iqaluit. At this point I felt like I'd reached my destination and I clothed myself and began climbing up a hill from whose peak I hoped to see the earth's curvature. The boots changed how I moved, mainly they made it easier to walk uphill. The view was the finest I'd see up north. From here you really get a sense of how far Iqaluit is from any other settlement (yet only a three hour plane trip to Montreal). Repetitions of evenly sized ridges and valleys on one side, and the bay on the other. Apex was below and Iqaluit was beyond, but not too far off. A dust cloud hanged over it. In the distance layers of cumoulous clouds piled over the horizon but 'nare did I see the earth's curvature. I directed myself towards a man made mountain of rocks -well the mountain was no higher than me- because it seemed to be the ideal turning point for my return journey.
Standing away from the sun most of the day I now face it and accordingly put on my sunglasses. Descending the ridge I approach the river while it skirts through gorge. The cliffs taper off as if their high verticalness starts to slant outward into the steep hills. Evidently the current was safe here because kids jumped into a waterhole, and out again. But let me be clear that these were rapids and there were plenty of little waterfalls, though it was a small river overall. I got closer to Apex, a closed up fish processing plant was the closest building to me, the land became flat, the river widened, filled by plenty of rocks, ideal for hop skotching across. On the other side I arrived to the location of the country food picnic I was at so many weeks ago. Then, the river and hillside were covered in snow.
Back on pavement, I walk uphill. The road turns and Apex is out of site, essentially I am on the opposite side of the gorge. The road still rises ahead and the occasional vehicle pops over the hill and passes by quickly. This effect, vehicles rising out of the ground, a scene familiar to us both in movies and our real lives, leads my mind into an alter-world, essentially a cold war era dystopian vision of the future. I could be anywhere now, probably some mysterious state in the states, maybe Nebraska or southern Ohio. Trees are extinct in this world, after a Nuclear Fall-out. The remains, though, of the infamous Distant Early Warning infrastructure lie about me clearly signifying this to be the Arctic.
I am walking on gravel. The wind is coming from across the street so I switch to the other side to avoid gravel blowing in my face. This helps partially. A house appears, there is a hearse in its driveway. Funerals used to be simple business. Coffins were made out of wooden boxes from shipping creates. Nowadays, to grieve properly I suppose, the families of recently deceased will order coffins from the south, Ottawa or Montreal, even though this may mean delaying the funeral until the coffin arrives. Also the graveyard in Iqaluit is almost full and it is tough to find a new place for it because the region is rocky and there is permafrost and so it is difficult to dig through. The current cemetery is on a sandy section alongside the bay. Hmm. I am back in reality.
{Details on Apex: It is was founded in the 1940's although you must keep in mind that Inuit have always inhabited the area calling it Iqaluit a name which refers to the large quantity of fish, namely arctic char. Down the bay from Apex two runways were built during WW2 to move Aeroplanes (built by Americans or Canadians) across the Atlantic to the United Kingdom. In the 1950's the town of Frobisher Bay was founded where the airbase had been. Frobisher Bay was renamed Iqaluit in the mid 1980's.}
Although plenty of purple saxifrage can be found in the city, its out here where they are in their glory. Strewn across the land from its hillsides, to riversides and marshy areas. The dozen bites I got when I stopped to take a photo did not displace my happiness. I hung my towel around my back and kept marching, but then I zigzaged and backtracked for better angles. I took a second dip into the river, a moments liberation.
Soon I reached a gorge when the river dropped until Apex. I am readying to take a photo as the battery dies, a moment later an even better photo: Apex is in view. Apex is the original permanent settlement on this part of Frobisher Bay and is 4.5 km up the bay from Iqaluit. At this point I felt like I'd reached my destination and I clothed myself and began climbing up a hill from whose peak I hoped to see the earth's curvature. The boots changed how I moved, mainly they made it easier to walk uphill. The view was the finest I'd see up north. From here you really get a sense of how far Iqaluit is from any other settlement (yet only a three hour plane trip to Montreal). Repetitions of evenly sized ridges and valleys on one side, and the bay on the other. Apex was below and Iqaluit was beyond, but not too far off. A dust cloud hanged over it. In the distance layers of cumoulous clouds piled over the horizon but 'nare did I see the earth's curvature. I directed myself towards a man made mountain of rocks -well the mountain was no higher than me- because it seemed to be the ideal turning point for my return journey.
Standing away from the sun most of the day I now face it and accordingly put on my sunglasses. Descending the ridge I approach the river while it skirts through gorge. The cliffs taper off as if their high verticalness starts to slant outward into the steep hills. Evidently the current was safe here because kids jumped into a waterhole, and out again. But let me be clear that these were rapids and there were plenty of little waterfalls, though it was a small river overall. I got closer to Apex, a closed up fish processing plant was the closest building to me, the land became flat, the river widened, filled by plenty of rocks, ideal for hop skotching across. On the other side I arrived to the location of the country food picnic I was at so many weeks ago. Then, the river and hillside were covered in snow.
Back on pavement, I walk uphill. The road turns and Apex is out of site, essentially I am on the opposite side of the gorge. The road still rises ahead and the occasional vehicle pops over the hill and passes by quickly. This effect, vehicles rising out of the ground, a scene familiar to us both in movies and our real lives, leads my mind into an alter-world, essentially a cold war era dystopian vision of the future. I could be anywhere now, probably some mysterious state in the states, maybe Nebraska or southern Ohio. Trees are extinct in this world, after a Nuclear Fall-out. The remains, though, of the infamous Distant Early Warning infrastructure lie about me clearly signifying this to be the Arctic.
I am walking on gravel. The wind is coming from across the street so I switch to the other side to avoid gravel blowing in my face. This helps partially. A house appears, there is a hearse in its driveway. Funerals used to be simple business. Coffins were made out of wooden boxes from shipping creates. Nowadays, to grieve properly I suppose, the families of recently deceased will order coffins from the south, Ottawa or Montreal, even though this may mean delaying the funeral until the coffin arrives. Also the graveyard in Iqaluit is almost full and it is tough to find a new place for it because the region is rocky and there is permafrost and so it is difficult to dig through. The current cemetery is on a sandy section alongside the bay. Hmm. I am back in reality.
{Details on Apex: It is was founded in the 1940's although you must keep in mind that Inuit have always inhabited the area calling it Iqaluit a name which refers to the large quantity of fish, namely arctic char. Down the bay from Apex two runways were built during WW2 to move Aeroplanes (built by Americans or Canadians) across the Atlantic to the United Kingdom. In the 1950's the town of Frobisher Bay was founded where the airbase had been. Frobisher Bay was renamed Iqaluit in the mid 1980's.}
Friday, August 6, 2010
Last night I rolled out two sleeping bags, once recently purchased, hoping that things would a little warmer. One sleeping bag was alright, but I would wake up chilly. With two sleeping bags, one being used as a liner, camping is pleasant. I have camped out the last three nights as my previous housesitting gig ended -with a bang but that's another story. Last night was special because a thick fog had blown over Iqaluit by the time I headed out to the parc with bag and fishing rod. I took a few photos along the way, mainly of these big stone sculptures around town. The sculpture that stood out to me was of an Inuit couple walking with their hands held together. It isn't clear whether they are worried or in a hurry, but the looks in their face suited the foggy weather.
When I got to Sylvia Grinnel parc I cut across the flat stretches of Tundra which lie ahead of the ridges behind which flows the river rather then take the gravel road. Cutting through the Tundra was not made easy by streams, ponds, muddy patches, all invisible from the road. On my way up the ridge I saw two girls climbing boulders at the top. One of them screamed and ran down the pebble pathway-the other stayed- and said to me, as she passed, "Loose Dogs". I stood still. Lo and behold, Huskies were afoot, they seemed friendly, at least the girl up top thought this. When I reached the top the owner had leashed the dogs concerned as she was with the scream. We exchanged pleasantries, I went my way and found a suitable spot to camp, it also sloped. It would have had a nice view if not for the fog.
Once settled in I read read Miriam Toews The Flying Troutmans till it was too dim, now I write till I can't see.
***********
I can't see as I write. Its taking time to Fall asleep even though quite warm from the sleeping bags. I also wore the down vest my mother handed to me as I walked out the door in Toronto. The crumbs, an entire cookie's worth, came from an open pocket.There is something odd about human nature because I decided i could bear with the crumbs until morning, I didn't want to get out of the bags. Later, I compromised, I would make the effort but I would stay in the bag. In this way I learned to be an acrobat.
When I got to Sylvia Grinnel parc I cut across the flat stretches of Tundra which lie ahead of the ridges behind which flows the river rather then take the gravel road. Cutting through the Tundra was not made easy by streams, ponds, muddy patches, all invisible from the road. On my way up the ridge I saw two girls climbing boulders at the top. One of them screamed and ran down the pebble pathway-the other stayed- and said to me, as she passed, "Loose Dogs". I stood still. Lo and behold, Huskies were afoot, they seemed friendly, at least the girl up top thought this. When I reached the top the owner had leashed the dogs concerned as she was with the scream. We exchanged pleasantries, I went my way and found a suitable spot to camp, it also sloped. It would have had a nice view if not for the fog.
Once settled in I read read Miriam Toews The Flying Troutmans till it was too dim, now I write till I can't see.
***********
I can't see as I write. Its taking time to Fall asleep even though quite warm from the sleeping bags. I also wore the down vest my mother handed to me as I walked out the door in Toronto. The crumbs, an entire cookie's worth, came from an open pocket.There is something odd about human nature because I decided i could bear with the crumbs until morning, I didn't want to get out of the bags. Later, I compromised, I would make the effort but I would stay in the bag. In this way I learned to be an acrobat.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Guess whos coming to dinner
I very much like the movie which this blog is named after, and it is completed unrelated to this entry so see it if you wish but please do not ask for hidden connections later.
If you read the posting this afternoon you would garnered that I was deeply worried, perhaps you felt the tension. Anyway the water was on by 5pm with an hour to spare. Everything was simpplified, a lond divison laid itself out in front of me: I would put the sauce in the oven to heat up saving me my last pot for the noodles, there was no dish shortage afterall, cleaning became unnecessary. I had put on Thesalonia Monk too, some Jazz artist whose album I had taken out from the Library. Cool and relaxed was I. Yet I did not let things be. Earlier I thought to myself that when Marc and LIndsay arrived that I would joke to them saying that I had planned an elaborate feast but the plan, due to the lack of water, was spoiled. Ha, ha, ha. Now, with running water, newfound hope, Thesolonia monk's jazz cd haved switched over to a trance, world, groove music CD, provided by the house, I decided that I would in fact prepare an elaborate feast in the following hour. Why not? I figured the house was so well stocked and well equipped, anything was possible. I would still heat up the tomato sauce and prepare the rice noodles, but why not an appetizer, Leek soup, and real first course, something meaty, like trout. 5:10pm. First I cleaned, my rule of thumb is that you can't cook in a filthy kitchen. 5:20pm. Could I do this, I asked, as I pranced -in my mind I was dancing to the groove- upstairs to downstairs, across the house searching for cook books -how to cook and prepare fish; Rush Hour Recipes; A soup makers bonanza- were the ones I chose- and gathering ingredients. 5:30pm. The soup recipe was too sophistated for me, "Leek and Jasmine rice soup", because it required processes with which I was unfamiliar -placing fresh herbs in a cheese cloth and steeping it in the broth, this process had a french name- and because it had ingredients I did not have! I felt clueless at this point because all I wanted to wanted to make was a milk base puree with leeks and potatoes and there were to many cooks books to search through. I decide to follow some of the directions of the earlier recipe to keep busy and when taking the leeks out of their packing I noticed it was labelled with a recipe for a milk based leek soup. Instead of potatoes it called for parsnips -didn't the madame of the house show me parsnips during our tour?- indeed, it also called for an unripe pear, handily I noticed for the second time a ripe pear on the counter mixed in with the apples. Clearly this was providence or the owners had intended to cook the same soup!!!! Conveniently, I had saved the vegetable broth from the last time I cooked poached trout and so I reused it as abroth for the leek soup and for, this time, steaming the trout.5:55pm. I boiled the water for tea. 6:00pm. Nothing was ready. But, I had emailed Lindsay twenty minutes previous asking her to pick up bread. 6:10pm. My attempt to blend the vegetables was half successful, I put them back on the stove to soften them up a little. Otherwise my broth for the trout was ready, the trout was still frozen, I reasoned that I'd defrost them in the microwave later. Things slowed down, the World music/groove CD was done, I put on Bartok instead, eerie string music, whatever. The leek soup was on to high of a temperature because the milk almost foamed over, (later,the soup was served as capocino leek soup). The guests arrived, Bartok, I realized was too eerie for me and back went on Thesalonia and his sweet Jazz.
If you read the posting this afternoon you would garnered that I was deeply worried, perhaps you felt the tension. Anyway the water was on by 5pm with an hour to spare. Everything was simpplified, a lond divison laid itself out in front of me: I would put the sauce in the oven to heat up saving me my last pot for the noodles, there was no dish shortage afterall, cleaning became unnecessary. I had put on Thesalonia Monk too, some Jazz artist whose album I had taken out from the Library. Cool and relaxed was I. Yet I did not let things be. Earlier I thought to myself that when Marc and LIndsay arrived that I would joke to them saying that I had planned an elaborate feast but the plan, due to the lack of water, was spoiled. Ha, ha, ha. Now, with running water, newfound hope, Thesolonia monk's jazz cd haved switched over to a trance, world, groove music CD, provided by the house, I decided that I would in fact prepare an elaborate feast in the following hour. Why not? I figured the house was so well stocked and well equipped, anything was possible. I would still heat up the tomato sauce and prepare the rice noodles, but why not an appetizer, Leek soup, and real first course, something meaty, like trout. 5:10pm. First I cleaned, my rule of thumb is that you can't cook in a filthy kitchen. 5:20pm. Could I do this, I asked, as I pranced -in my mind I was dancing to the groove- upstairs to downstairs, across the house searching for cook books -how to cook and prepare fish; Rush Hour Recipes; A soup makers bonanza- were the ones I chose- and gathering ingredients. 5:30pm. The soup recipe was too sophistated for me, "Leek and Jasmine rice soup", because it required processes with which I was unfamiliar -placing fresh herbs in a cheese cloth and steeping it in the broth, this process had a french name- and because it had ingredients I did not have! I felt clueless at this point because all I wanted to wanted to make was a milk base puree with leeks and potatoes and there were to many cooks books to search through. I decide to follow some of the directions of the earlier recipe to keep busy and when taking the leeks out of their packing I noticed it was labelled with a recipe for a milk based leek soup. Instead of potatoes it called for parsnips -didn't the madame of the house show me parsnips during our tour?- indeed, it also called for an unripe pear, handily I noticed for the second time a ripe pear on the counter mixed in with the apples. Clearly this was providence or the owners had intended to cook the same soup!!!! Conveniently, I had saved the vegetable broth from the last time I cooked poached trout and so I reused it as abroth for the leek soup and for, this time, steaming the trout.5:55pm. I boiled the water for tea. 6:00pm. Nothing was ready. But, I had emailed Lindsay twenty minutes previous asking her to pick up bread. 6:10pm. My attempt to blend the vegetables was half successful, I put them back on the stove to soften them up a little. Otherwise my broth for the trout was ready, the trout was still frozen, I reasoned that I'd defrost them in the microwave later. Things slowed down, the World music/groove CD was done, I put on Bartok instead, eerie string music, whatever. The leek soup was on to high of a temperature because the milk almost foamed over, (later,the soup was served as capocino leek soup). The guests arrived, Bartok, I realized was too eerie for me and back went on Thesalonia and his sweet Jazz.
cold drops o' rain
There are cold drop o' rain outside. Easy to ignore, except inside the water is no running. I don't mind putting off laundry, but my kitchen is on the messy side. The owners of the place where I am housesitting invited to eat much of their food, I am very happy to take up this offer and I have been eating like a King,; poached trout, chili, stir-fry, and tomatoe sauce are my specialties. Now the kitchen is a mess and I invited Marc and Lindsay over for dinner. Because the owners are public servants, I am to call Public works if something goes wrong with the house. The two local lines weren't helpful but the national hotline proved fruitful. The rep. I talked with recommended, upon my telling her of the cold drops o rain, that I put a bucket outside to collect rain. Good advice, we'll see how much water I collect for cooking dinner over the next hour!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Training day
I trained a new employee today. SHe must be fairly good looking because al the teenaged guys were hovering around around. :D
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tid-bits
I saw "The Last Air Bender" at Iqaluit's movie theatre tonight. The theatre was like any other yousee in a small town, nice and small! The opening scene was of the "water tribe". A group of people affiliated with element water. The charaters were dressed in Inuit Garb and their village was similar to an Inuit village. The main actors weren't Inuit butit seemed as if the extras but you only caught glimpses of them. I don't recommend the movie, it is full of paganism run amok and I am sure the easter spirituality within it could have been better presented.
Before the movie I cooked dinner, nothing fancy, stir fry, at my new house sitting gig. I am housesitting for apublic servant and her husband while they are down south. They gave me a detailed tour of their food supplies, large, and said I was welcome to everything. This includes: Bacon, Trout, Ox, Porc, Beef, Arctic Char, Cariboo heart, and so forth. The green beans were moldy but there was also a good quantity of fresh food. My stir fry as composed of mushrooms carrots, and onion; and the sauce was made up of soy sauce, vinager, sugar, and garlic.
Yesterday, I bought my first Inuit sculpture. Several weeks ago, when I was volunteering at the a canteen, a boy asked me to keep my eyes open for his bicycle which e believed was taken. I did spot his blue mountain bike. This boy I learned carved scultures and I would bump into him around town as I wa job hunting, he was often at the same places sellinghis scultures. I told him I would be a sculture when i got a job. I kept my bargain and bought a little Inukshuk with an accompanying stand. For ten dollars its alright considering I know the kid. He is in fact working for North mart temporarily, as he and a bunch others have been trasnferring stuff from newly arrived cargo. Every couple of weeks a ship arrives with cargo for the stores and others who have ordered goods, such as food and cars. One of the characteristics of Iqaluit, thought, is the Hawkers; sculptors will hawk the carvings in stores, at restaurants, and on the streets. Indeed, if you eat at he Frobisher Inn on a Friday night, I am told, along with your meal will come 15 hawkers. If you have the money it can be quite fun to bargain a polar down from $500 to $150. Its hard to identify whats good and what isn't and it is tempting to buy straight from the artist because it is much cheaper than going to the local art dealers. For instance the other day during my lunch break I went to the library to write an entry for this blog. Well lo and behold there was a a guest artist, a print maker at the entrance doing his thing. I bought two prints from him even though I wasn't sure as to the quality. With that said I have seen his prints elsewhere and he was invited to be there by the director of the visitors centre. The prints are of hunter catching a seal and they are in sequence so that the first shows the hunter hoding a harpoong, and the second the shows an impaled seal with harpoons rope twisting aound the seal.
Before the movie I cooked dinner, nothing fancy, stir fry, at my new house sitting gig. I am housesitting for apublic servant and her husband while they are down south. They gave me a detailed tour of their food supplies, large, and said I was welcome to everything. This includes: Bacon, Trout, Ox, Porc, Beef, Arctic Char, Cariboo heart, and so forth. The green beans were moldy but there was also a good quantity of fresh food. My stir fry as composed of mushrooms carrots, and onion; and the sauce was made up of soy sauce, vinager, sugar, and garlic.
Yesterday, I bought my first Inuit sculpture. Several weeks ago, when I was volunteering at the a canteen, a boy asked me to keep my eyes open for his bicycle which e believed was taken. I did spot his blue mountain bike. This boy I learned carved scultures and I would bump into him around town as I wa job hunting, he was often at the same places sellinghis scultures. I told him I would be a sculture when i got a job. I kept my bargain and bought a little Inukshuk with an accompanying stand. For ten dollars its alright considering I know the kid. He is in fact working for North mart temporarily, as he and a bunch others have been trasnferring stuff from newly arrived cargo. Every couple of weeks a ship arrives with cargo for the stores and others who have ordered goods, such as food and cars. One of the characteristics of Iqaluit, thought, is the Hawkers; sculptors will hawk the carvings in stores, at restaurants, and on the streets. Indeed, if you eat at he Frobisher Inn on a Friday night, I am told, along with your meal will come 15 hawkers. If you have the money it can be quite fun to bargain a polar down from $500 to $150. Its hard to identify whats good and what isn't and it is tempting to buy straight from the artist because it is much cheaper than going to the local art dealers. For instance the other day during my lunch break I went to the library to write an entry for this blog. Well lo and behold there was a a guest artist, a print maker at the entrance doing his thing. I bought two prints from him even though I wasn't sure as to the quality. With that said I have seen his prints elsewhere and he was invited to be there by the director of the visitors centre. The prints are of hunter catching a seal and they are in sequence so that the first shows the hunter hoding a harpoong, and the second the shows an impaled seal with harpoons rope twisting aound the seal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)