Nick Sikkuark (1943–2013) was a prolific graphic artist, sculptor and painter whose artistic career spanned nearly 50 years. His work is known for its dynamism and grounded in the cultural traditions of the Netsilik. Sikkuark was born in Hanningajuq (Garry Lake), NU, and grew up in Uqsuqtuuq (Gjoa Haven), NU, but travelled widely and lived in Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay), NU; Tikirarjuaq (Whale Cove), NU; Winnipeg, MB; and Ottawa, ON, at various times. He spent the majority of his adult life in Kuugarjuk (Kugaaruk), NU, where he moved in 1968.
Sikkuark taught himself to draw at age 13 “for the joy of drawing,” [1] learning by working from reference photographs. He started working with wood first as a construction carpenter, and began his foray into sculptural work in 1967 when he used wood to create a letter opener handle shaped like a fox. Sikkuark later went on to work with bone, ivory and caribou antler, mixing organic materials like teeth, skulls, hair, fur and feathers into many of his pieces. Sikkuark also worked in oil and watercolour early in his career but found paintings didn’t sell as well as his sculptures—in a 1994 interview with Simeonie Kunuk, he said these works would sell for as little as $15 each at the co-op, so he focused on sculpting instead. Sikkuark was interested in using his work as a means of cultural preservation—he stated that he tried to show “how Inuit life was long ago” and he wanted to include written stories alongside his sculptures, although the co-op wasn’t interested [2]—but he also saw his practice through an economic lens. He gave up carpentry in 1976 to work full time as an artist because he considered art-making a reliable income source that he could take with him if he ever moved [3]. He returned to drawing in 2003 to ease the physical toll that sculpting took on his body.
The work Sikkuark produced throughout his career is highly varied but is generally noted for its dynamic perspective and composition and a quality of humour and horror blended together. Sikkuark often featured angakkuit and other traditional spiritual practices in his work but also made works “just from imagination.” [4] With his sculpted pieces, he often stayed very close to the natural state of his materials—arranging mixed-media assemblages of bones and fur with only small holes or textural elements added to create the image. This is visible in Snow Worm (n.d), where a ridged antler with a finely wrought face perches as a worm atop a backwards caribou skull. Other works, like Angatkuk (1991), show a more representational approach to human and animal forms. “I don’t like to make what other people carve,” [5] he said about his original shapes and approach to sculpture. In his later drawings, Sikkuark employed effusive colour and exquisite detail, capturing a realistic landscape with careful shading and peopling it with wriggling spirits or sectioning off items like igloos into abstracted, 2D blocks of colour.
Over the course of his career, Sikkuark was the subject of multiple exhibitions at places as far flung as Paris, France; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; and Verona, Italy; as well as dozens of shows within Canada at major museums like the the Winnipeg Art Gallery in Manitoba and the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto. In 2023 a major retrospective of his work, Nick Sikkuark: Humour and Horror, was held at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, ON. Sikkuark has also been featured in many issues of the Inuit Art Quarterly, with work appearing on the cover three times. Among his many achievements, he helped develop an ivory surgical pin in 1977 to replace metal pins [6] and in 1978 was commissioned by the Commonwealth Games to carve a ceremonial opening baton. In addition to his artistic achievements, Sikkuark advocated for better pay for sculptors and textile makers through the co-op system, even as he criticized the Southern-based art market that made the system possible, commenting, “It’s like my creation has left me behind,” when his sculptures left the community. Although he considered the economic model problematic at times, he was nevertheless strongly in favour of Inuit producing art that reflected their culture and traditions, saying, “I hope this art never disappears.” [7]