The works in this story are all defined by their outlines, an extremely select group of circular shapes drawn from the multitude of similar circles that were produced by prolific Kinngait, NU, artist Pitseolak Ashoona, CM, RCA (1904–1983).
These shapes all contain different things—nesting birds, fishing weirs, little figures going about their daily lives—in a rainbow of different colours, but they are united in their self-containment. They’re not necessarily uniformly circular, with outlines stretching and expanding in certain directions depending on the scene within, sometimes even breached by distinct objects like an inuksuk on the horizon, a disturbance in the snow at the entrance to an iglu, or hunting tools lying at the ready while the rest of the page remains blank.
(L) Untitled (1981–82) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 51.6 x 66.5 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION(R) Untitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAF
It’s very common across Inuit art to see negative space standing in for an abstracted background, with figures floating on the page. But these works are different—Ashoona has given us a defined background and foreground, an environment fully realized but contained within a specific shape. Take this untitled work completed somewhere between 1966 and 1976, for example: we have a hunter and birds in the foreground, deliberate play with perspective showcased by the size of birds versus the hunter in the mid-ground, and a shaded background blocked by light and shadow on the plains of the terrain with a tiny inuksuk in the distance.
(From left) Untitled (1978–79) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 33.4 x 26.7 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTIONUntitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAFUntitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAF
Sometimes the circle made clearly has to do with what is being represented: there are many examples of Ashoona presenting an aerial view of her subject matter, showcasing people alternately sleeping and sitting together inside the geometric blocks of an iglu, or depicting birds taking care of their goslings or eggs inside a straw nest.
(From left) Arrival of the Fisherman (1983) Printmaker Kooyoo Simiga Stonecut and stencil 55.9 x 35.6 cm COURTESY WADDINGTONS AUCTIONEERS AND APPRAISERS, TORONTOUntitled (1980–81) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 50.8 x 66.1 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTIONUntitled (1978–79) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 33.8 x 26.7 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION
Other times, she was imposing a boundary—the fishing weir with some tundra that would otherwise spread to the edges of the page. And sometimes it’s unclear: Could that image of the walruses breaching the surface be encircled because they’re coming up from an ice hole, as opposed to surfacing in open water? If those images are to be read literally, it’s a very crowded spot! But perhaps Ashoona was indicating the various kinds of animals she’d seen at an ice hole, or the water does show an entire ocean that Ashoona has simply imposed a boundary on.
(From left) Untitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAFUntitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAFUntitled (1966–76) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 27.7 x 20.7 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION
There are other examples that are clearly not meant to be read literally, like in an untitled c. 1966–76 work where the women sitting in a circle holding hands have entwined braids. In this case, the braids are a design element, forming a line that mimics the outer curve of the shape Ashoona has drawn. In one of my favourite examples, another untitled piece from the same period, each individual bird in a flock is spotlit in green and connected by black lines, like a neural network in the sky. While not physically present, I wonder if the lines are a diagram meant to indicate the relationships between members of the flock, whether Ashoona was commenting on pecking order at play in the group. In another untitled drawing from the period, birds are depicted ranged against the edge of a nest filled with eggs, their beaks spread and pointed outwards like tiny sabres. The nesting couple, so fierce in their defence of the eggs, are multiplied into a phalanx of guards.
(L) Untitled (1980–81) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 50.9 x 65.9 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION(R) Untitled (c. 1966–76) COURTESY IAF
Generally, the rest of the page doesn’t seem to be negative space; one might even suggest it shouldn’t be read as part of the composition. If that was Ashoona’s intent, I wonder why she chose not to cut away the excess paper. Perhaps she knew the irregular outlines would make these pieces inordinately difficult to mat and frame. But not reading the background ignores the fact that Ashoona didn’t sign these works within the boundary she drew—instead, her signature hovers elsewhere, sometimes close to the edge of the illustrated section, but sometimes more towards the edge of the paper. That might be because of her experience with the print shop: either the expectation that her drawings would be translated into prints and so the signature would be in the way, or her experience seeing prints signed outside the illustrated border, since they are conventionally editioned, titled and signed at the bottom of the page. But if she did mean her audience to read something from the remaining edges of the paper here, what is it?
(L) Owls in Spring Snow (1972) Printmaker Eegyvudluk Pootoogook Stonecut 56.5 x 61 cm (R) Fish and Seals Feeding (1973) Printmaker Iyola Kingwatsiak Stonecut 43.2 x 61.6 cm COURTESY WADDINGTONS AUCTIONEERS AND APPRAISERS, TORONTO
One might extend the print shop argument here, recognizing that many Inuit prints don’t go to the edge of the page and Ashoona was certainly highly exposed to Inuit prints, being a prolific supplier of graphics to the Kinngait shop. But that doesn’t explain why she kept returning to circles specifically, or why she stands out as a graphic artist doing this in a way that others, similarly entwined with the print shop, were not.
Untitled (1981–82) Coloured pencil and felt-tip pen 51.4 x 66.7 cm COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION
Shape is a design element capable of both playing mental tricks with the way we perceive something—whether it’s natural or man-made, sharp or soft, angry or happy—and having a distinct impact on the tangible reality of what we can physically do with an object. The choice of a specific shape says a lot about a piece. Ultimately, why Ashoona made so many works in this shape is unknowable. It might have been her way of reflecting the view from a spyglass, binoculars, snow goggles, or the portholes of a boat, or maybe she was making individual comic panels. I wish I could ask her. But by creating defined borders, she has left us a series of tantalizing portals into her world, a way to glimpse the shape of what she used to see.