Where do I find Inuit goods for sale? How do I go about purchasing them?
We get a lot of questions from readers about purchasing the artworks we feature, so let’s talk about buying Inuit goods, whether it’s art or other cultural products—the common courtesies, the cultural appropriation-isms, and the ways to keep these interactions positive for everyone involved.
On Cultural Appropriation
First up, the question that can stymie any purchase: is it cultural appropriation if I purchase and wear or display this Inuit item?
Emphatically, NO. Please buy and use goods made by Inuit.
Buying goods directly from a member of a culture (Inuit or otherwise) and wearing or displaying them is not cultural appropriation. These are goods that have been made for you to use and wear, and by purchasing them, you are directly supporting the artist and putting money into the hands of the community whose heritage the goods are drawn from.
“I’ve never thought about denying anyone the opportunity to purchase my work,” says Jessica Malegana, who creates illustrations that she sells as prints and printed on items like mugs. One of her most popular items are socks printed like gowaks, a kind of moccasin. She views moccasins as a technology to keep people warm, one that is shared (with variations) across many Indigenous cultures in North America. “At this point, I’ve made it available to anyone—in Canada anyways, you know, with the shipping prices,” she jokes.
There are often exceptions to this rule when it comes to regalia, but that is a subset of the goods made by Indigenous people. “I always inform customers that there’s a difference between jewellery and regalia,” says Lillian Putulik Chevrier, a jeweller who sells her beaded work at pop-ups in the Montreal, QC, area. “Because it’s Indigenous-made, [people might] automatically assume that it’s only reserved for Indigenous people. But jewellery isn’t unless it’s regalia. And in my context, I don’t make regalia, I just make beaded pieces.”
Those who do make regalia often don’t display those items to the general public or will refuse to sell them to people who are not members of their culture. Expectations here vary from culture to culture. If you are concerned, ask.
“I have had several customers ask me if it was appropriate for them, as white settlers, to purchase my earrings previously,” says Jasmine Freeman, who sells beaded jewellery through her business, nunaaluk. “I’m not making regalia, so for me, I don’t see a problem with anyone wearing it, permitting that they’re doing it in a good way. And I like that there is an exchange, a conversation: that they’re trying to educate themselves prior to and going directly to the artist to ask their permission.”
An example of cultural appropriation to watch out for is when you have a business or artist who is not affiliated with a culture taking elements of culturally-specific designs without consultation or compensation to the culture they are taking from. In those cases, it’s the business or artist who is appropriating, and you may unknowingly be caught in it as a consumer. But the solution to this dilemma is simple: know who you are buying from.
Garments from Arctic Luxe on the runway at the 2024 Indigenous Fashion Arts Festival, Toronto
COURTESY INDIGENOUS FASHION ARTS FESTIVAL PHOTO GEORGE PIMENTEL
“Are You Indigenous?”
“Know who you are buying from” is one of the most common pieces of advice in articles like this, but it’s unhelpfully vague. Let’s talk about this in practice: how do you go about identifying authentic Indigenous products and vendors as a consumer?
If it’s a larger company you’re looking to purchase from that describes itself as Indigenous-owned, then you’ll want to understand what ties it has to specific Indigenous communities—many companies have an “About” page on their website that will give you context. If you can’t readily identify an Indigenous individual or specific community related to a business that describes itself as Indigenous, that’s suspicious.
There are also companies that specialize in selling Inuit art or more broadly Indigenous goods but aren’t Indigenous-owned—plugging for the IAQ here, you can find most of the Inuit-specific gallery names among our regular advertisers. Reputable vendors will identify the specific Indigenous community that is connected with the work, as well as the specific artist who made or designed the piece. If it’s a vendor you’re not familiar with, then asking “What’s the name of the artist who made this?” is a decent litmus test, helping to separate the resin-cast and the mass-produced “Indigenous-inspired” goods aimed at tourists from something an Indigenous individual took time and effort to make.
When it comes to individual artists, however, tread cautiously when asking about their identity and background. Those are very personal questions and can be complicated. Put the shoe on the other foot: wouldn’t you be uncomfortable if someone you’d never met started asking about your family background and ethnic mix?
So is it okay to come right out and ask, “Are you Indigenous?” Maybe. Inuit artists are split on the issue, even while they recognize the importance of disclosure in the context of selling their work.
“I’d rather you ask me the questions that you’re scared to ask than to not ask me at all and just assume,” says Chevrier, who, as a regular seller at markets, has been queried many times on the subject. But there are limits to her disclosure: “I set the boundaries [to what I disclose] . . . I shouldn’t have to tell you my whole life story if I don’t want to,” she asserts.
On the other side is Freeman, who says, “I wouldn’t like to be asked about my Indigeneity from a customer. I don’t think I would personally appreciate that experience.” She has not yet had the experience of being queried but thinks, “I might perceive that to be confrontational, even if that’s not what [the customer] intended.”
Misty Dyson, a jeweller from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, who combines beads with antlers and fur, is more philosophical on the topic. “I feel like, with my social work background, I could see it from both ways,” she says. “When I was just starting out and trying to get a feel for [selling in markets], I definitely took it as people just trying to figure who I am . . . [but] when you’re really pouring your heart and soul into your work, and then people are questioning your identity, your authenticity, it could be a little bit of a kick in the gut”.”
Intention and approach can make a big difference in how this question is received: in one instance at a local community market in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, a community whose Indigenous population makes up almost half of all residents, Dyson recalls some customers “were going table to table, trying to make sure people were legit and asking where the background of the work is coming from.” She was prepared to answer the question, but the experience wasn’t good. “I could hear them coming,” she said.
There are softer ways to approach this question. Asking something like “I really like these earrings, are they Indigenous-made?” offers the artist an opportunity to talk about their community ties if inclined while reinforcing your interest in the work. Generalizing your question so that it’s about the work rather than the vendor can help the query feel less accusatory or demanding. But some artists are simply not comfortable fielding questions about their identity, and it’s important to respect their boundaries.
Okay, so how can you know you’re buying Indigenous if asking the artist directly is not on the table? That answer is going to vary depending on where you are shopping.
How to Identify Who You Are Buying from When Online
In a digital context, many Inuit will have a statement on their social media bio or shop information page, sometimes called a positionality statement, that locates them in relation to a specific Indigenous community and names their community ties. “They talk about who they are and where they’re from and where they learned their practice,” says Freeman. “If a purchaser is looking at that information, then they don’t need to ask [about identity].”
Malegana is a strong advocate for the positionality statement: “I think it is absolutely important to be able to prove [as an artist] that you are from these communities, that you aren’t stealing a culture,” she says. But it’s not the only thing she relies on, highlighting the importance of a quick Internet search to see what comes up for the artist you’re looking at, even if they haven’t put forward a positionality statement. “As a consumer, they might have gone to my profile to confirm that I am who I say I am. I make sure that if you find me on Etsy, you’re able to find me in other places . . . if you’re looking on Facebook or if you’re looking on Instagram, you’re going to get a little bit more of an in-depth story.”
Those profiles she mentioned? They’re the IAQ Profiles, where we highlight an artist’s background and artistic history. Anyone on that platform is someone we’ve vetted by confirming their individual community ties and relations. It’s not an exhaustive list—the pool of artists is large, and not everyone wants a profile—but it, alongside fact-based news reporting, can be good resources when looking for artist information online.
How to Identify Who You Are Buying from in Person
At in-person marketplaces, on the other hand, you may be limited to whatever is written on the vendor’s booth signage or product packaging, if any signage is present. Standing there and googling the artist is an option, but potentially an awkward one. Markets that are designated exclusively for Indigenous vendors have done the work for you, but many vendor spaces are open to people of all backgrounds, and you will find Indigenous artists there, too.
Dyson made business cards to help identify herself. “I have my name and where I’m located, and it links to my online store. Basic, but it gives the gist.” The cards have provided a way to let customers know more about her, an excuse to “do a little bit of research on their own, rather than asking the questions straight.”
Lillian Putulik Chevrier Banff Trading Post collection (2021) Dimensions variable
© THE ARTIST
On Haggling
In short: don’t.
“In marketplaces, people seem to feel more confident to challenge the price,” says Chevrier. “But if you go to a box store, you wouldn’t ask for something on sale that wasn’t on sale.”
Chevrier is not alone in her disdain for haggling. “People don’t really appreciate the art and the time and effort that goes into these pieces,” says Dyson. When she teaches beading courses in town, she sees people start to realize what they’re asking when they haggle. “At the end of the course, I’ve had numerous people say to me, ‘I didn’t realize this much work went into this.’”
Beaded earrings can involve hundreds of beads and take hours of work. It takes 12 steps over several months to process sealskin from the animal into a state where it’s workable for sewing into clothing and jewellery. These pieces are labour-intensive to produce, and while the artist has set a price based on what they think is fair, many artists account for material costs but not their time to make it or the specialized skills required.
“It takes me a lot of time to make a piece,” says Freeman. “When I first started, I really wanted to set the price way lower than what I deserved, considering the amount of time and effort that I put into everything. But I fought that urge, and I feel like I pay myself accordingly now.” While she would be open to trading with another artist, “if we’re talking about haggling over the price that I set, then no, I don’t believe that that’s acceptable.”
Malegana too is trying to balance pricing with economic viability. “I try to keep my prices as low as possible,” she says. A mentor early in her career, Tanis Simpson of Qiviut Inc., emphasized the importance of being firm on price to ensure Malegana could support herself. “Tanis drove home that you have to know your worth and price yourself accordingly . . . I do still struggle with prices, but at the same time you still want to be able to make enough to live and exist in this economy.
“Haggling is not a normal thing in our culture. I wasn’t raised that way,” Malegana continues. “Traditionally, our great-grandmothers would be making our mukluks or our parkas and mitts out of necessity. We might have witnessed her making these over the years, she might have taught us how to make these things. So we understand the work that goes into them. If somebody is offering you a pair of mitts and they’re asking for $300, you’re not going to stand there in front of them and ask $200.”
Because haggling isn’t a cultural norm for Inuit, it’s often uncomfortable on both sides. “I feel very intimidated when I am approached [to haggle],” says Dyson. “When it first happened, I wasn’t expecting it, and it wasn’t something I prepared for going into the markets.”
Marketplace Etiquette
Acknowledge the vendor at the booth
“You’d be surprised how many people do not say bye or hi to you when you’re speaking to them,” says Chevrier. “I’ll speak directly to someone, and they won’t look at me and then will walk away. But they were at my table, touching my things.” In marketplaces, the vendor is standing right in front of you, and if you’re interacting with their goods it is polite to acknowledge them as well in some way, whether that is a smile or eye contact. And that’s advice that applies in both an Indigenous context and outside it.
“I know that my pieces aren’t going to be for everyone, and that’s completely fine. If there are people walking by my table and not interacting, that’s fine,” says Freeman. “But if they’re going to interact with the art, I think it would be nice, out of respect, if they interact with me as well in some way.”
When asked how they wanted a customer interaction to go at a marketplace, all the artists gave the same answer: respect and acknowledgment, a friendly interaction, even if nothing is sold or bought.
No one should walk away mad or upset. “That’s the goal, right?” says Malegana. “You’re not trying to make everyone happy, just to sell your things and not have it be a negative experience.”
Acknowledgement can be as small as a head nod, but having the artist there with you provides a wonderful opportunity to ask why they chose certain colours, how to take care of the piece, or share how you’re planning to use it.
“My ideal customer interaction is very friendly,” says Dyson. “I like when people chat with me and you can tell they’re really interested in your work and what you’re doing and whatnot . . . marketplaces should be very positive and interactive.”
Yurak poses with their outdoor art exhibition, Iqaluit, 2020
© THE ARTIST
Be respectful with your comments and actions
While conversation and interacting with the product is welcome, here are some things NOT to say and do, all based on real-life interactions the artists have had:
Saying “I could make that.” Don’t insult the artist’s skills and designs—they are standing right there!
Taking photos without permission. The artist has ownership of their work and their own image and should be consulted before you photograph them or their work. However, photos of yourself wearing a piece that you bought from them are usually welcome!
Being rough with the merchandise. Artists described seeing people throw the work down on the table after picking it up or yanking at the tassels on earrings. Be careful not to damage the merchandise! “You break it, you buy it” are words to live by.
Asking “Can you teach me how to make that?” The artist has specialized knowledge that they are not obligated to share, certainly not for free. Some do teach classes for a fee, but others hold culturally-specific techniques that are only passed to others in their culture.
Saying “I love your face and hand tattoos (tunniit and kakiniit)! Where can I get them?” This is a good example of a culturally-specific piece of knowledge. Traditional tattooing practices were banned by colonial governments and churches for decades (and in some cases centuries), so the knowledge about them is a highly guarded piece of information that Inuit are only just starting to reclaim and celebrate again. Only Inuit should be tattooed with those markings. The symbols and patterns are also usually quite specific to the individual’s life and circumstances, so asking what they mean is a very personal question.
Untaping items that have been taped down. Usually the tape is there to keep the item safe, whether it’s because it might otherwise roll or be blown off the table, it’s delicate and shouldn’t be handled, or because it’s a theft risk. Ask before you pick it up.
Asking the artist to replicate a design for you. The originating artist used time and their own creativity to create those pieces. The design is their intellectual property. A shared colour scheme or shape might be one thing, but to copy another artist’s design isn’t ethical.
Online Etiquette
While selling and buying online tends to be more transactional and offer fewer opportunities to interact, customer engagement is still welcome.
“I think some of my most memorable online experiences were when someone reached out to me online or through Instagram after purchasing a pair of earrings and sent me a photo,” says Freeman. “They don’t have to, of course, but it’s nice to see where my art ended up, who it found a home with. I find that creates connection, especially in this very fast and transactional online environment.”
But since many of these artists operate as one-person businesses, it sometimes takes them a bit to respond to messages. “If somebody messaged me at two o’clock in the morning, I might not see it until the next morning, especially with time differences,” says Dyson.
Buying Secondhand
Let’s talk about the secondhand market, where things can be a bit greyer, as the piece has lost contact with the original person who produced it. Certainly in a secondhand context, you’re generally buying from vendors who are not affiliated with the culture the product is from, and therefore money isn’t reentering the cultural community in the same way, but that is a larger question about art resale rights that you as a consumer don’t have the responsibility to solve. Determining whether buying the piece secondhand would constitute cultural appropriation requires a different test: what were the artist’s intentions for the piece, and do they match yours?
I present three scenarios for you:
1) buying a stone sculpture
2) buying a basketry piece labelled from the 1850s
3) buying a skirt
In scenario one, the stone sculpture is clearly for display purposes, and in the case of Inuit sculpture, most were produced from the 1950s forward, when you can be relatively assured that the artist produced the work knowing it would be sold to a southern audience (often through co-ops or other dealers, if not directly by the artists themselves to tourists), and they were paid for their work. So, the work was produced by an Inuit artist, the artist was initially compensated, and the work was initially sold with the understanding that someone non-Inuit would be using it. Your use of the item secondhand, then, matches the original intended use, and is therefore not cultural appropriation.
Scenario two presents more unknowns. Something from the 1850s means that conditions under which the artist produced and sold the work (assuming it was sold and not taken without compensation) and whether it was intended for a non-Inuit audience or had a specific cultural purpose within the community are now unknowable. Without a significant amount of research (and even with it), it’s not possible to say whether your use would match the intended use, although as an item that is for display rather than wearing, the likelihood of cultural appropriation is lower.
Scenario three presents us with some of the same unknowns. If the skirt is being purchased for display, to be framed and hung on a wall, you have the same issues as scenario two. But purchasing the skirt to wear presents a bigger problem: we don’t know whether it’s regalia or not. Inuit have culturally specific clothing items like amautiq that are absolutely fine for non-Inuit to wear and use provided the item was made by an Inuk or an Inuk taught you to make your own and you’re not selling the item or that knowledge. But there are many garments across Indigenous Peoples that bear specific cultural and symbolic meanings and should not be worn or used by someone not of the culture to which the item belongs—wearing regalia is clear cultural appropriation. In this example, it is really important to research what you have bought and figure out if it is regalia or not before wearing it. Clothing often comes with tags that identify the maker (or brand), so looking that brand up and identifying what they usually sell and to whom is the first step.
Ultimately, whether you’re buying online or in-person, purchasing Indigenous goods should be an experience that makes both sides feel good. Keep interactions friendly and respectful and continue using your money to buy beautiful locally made things.