Mark Igloliorte
Skateboarding show cherishes the ongoing cycle of experiential learning.
Mark Igloliorte, “Untitled” (work in progress, detail), 2022
spray paint on 12 skateboard decks, each 8” x 31” (photo by Leif Norman)
The formality of academia can be downright suffocating, especially for students who have endured Zoom-oriented learning during the pandemic. Thankfully, Inuk artist Mark Igloliorte’s exhibition, katinngak, on view until Aug. 5 at the University of Winnipeg’s Gallery 1C03, interrupts this stringency. Igloliorte, from Nunatsiavut in northern Labrador, creates a laid-back ambiance by transforming the gallery into a skateboard shop of sorts, with dozens of skate decks and a looping video of a snowboard performance.
His work is partnered with a nearby vinyl wall-art installation, I’m Tired, by Mark Bennett, a Toronto-based Inuk artist and graphic designer. Bennett’s piece was inspired by voice memo-chats on messaging apps and speaks to the burnout felt now by many Indigenous cultural producers. Visually recalling the symbology of audio waves, the piece presents a refreshing new form of engagement that corresponds with Igloliorte’s work.
Mark Bennett, “I’m Tired,” 2022
vinyl wall art installation (photo by Leif Norman)
Igloliorte, who teaches at Concordia University in Montreal, weaves together the cadences of Inuttitut, a regional dialect of Inuktitut, with boarding culture in katinngak – intentionally left untranslated – as a metaphor for learning that embraces the hesitations and failures that precede growth and confidence. His three installations traverse nearly two decades spent exploring Inuk identity.
His 2021 skateboard series Nipakittuk (Quiet) plays with the concept of skate-deck graphics with a succession of spray-painted Inuttitut words. In Roman font, the words are legible but obscured for non-Inuttitut speakers. Inherent here is a critique of the linguistic privilege of anglophone and francophone Canadians. Igloliorte invites us to imagine a future where Indigenous languages are no longer subject to colonial suppression, but publicly cherished for their diversity and wisdom.
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Mark Igloliorte, “Nipakittuk (Quiet),” 2021
spray paint on 20 skateboard decks, each 8” x 31” (photo by Leif Norman)
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Mark Igloliorte, “Nipakittuk (Quiet)” detail, 2021
spray paint on 20 skateboard decks, each 8” x 31” (photo courtesy Feheley Fine Arts, Toronto)
Treating each skateboard as a colour study, he honours linguistic complexity while hinting at meaning. With a thoughtfulness echoed by their delicate presence, the skateboards nearly blend into the white wall but are energized by the all-capitalized Inuktitut words that call out softly: suliatsak, suliatsak (work to be done, work to be done); sungittot, sungittot (trust, trust); kaujik (realize). Undulating between shouts and whispers, presence and invisibility, accomplishment and introspection, the words reflect the joys and challenges of learning alone. Taken together, the skateboards become a poetic meditation on independence.
Mark Igloliorte, “Untitled” (work in progress), 2022
spray paint on 12 skateboard decks, each 8” x 31” (photo by Leif Norman)
On the opposite wall, an untitled and unfinished series of a dozen skate-decks Igloliorte began some months before the show’s opening are more vivid. An experiment with word combinations, the Inuttitut that leaps out here is a nod to the people in Igloliorte’s life who inspired them. Building on Nipakittuk (Quiet), these phrases not only point to the growth in Igloliorte’s own journey, but to conversations that helped propel him forward. Disrupting the introversion of their pastel counterparts, these vibrant boards celebrate the collaborative and social aspects of education.
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Mark Igloliorte, “Namesake,” 2006
sculptural installation (courtesy the artist)
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Mark Igloliorte, “Namesake,” 2006
sculptural installation (courtesy the artist)
Accompanying visitors through the gallery are the sounds of Igloliorte’s 2006 video Namesake, a snowboard performance of the artist attempting a backside boardslide on a sculpture he created during a storytelling residency at the Banff Centre. The sculpture explores two interpretations of the name Igloliorte, which translates as “igloo builder.” It features images of people building an igloo on one side and a Western-style house on the other. The minute-long video shows Igloliorte falling repeatedly until he sticks a few landings. Bridging his two series of skateboards, the work normalizes hesitation and failure, striking a symbolic balance between introspection and collaboration.
Mark Igloliorte, “katinngak,” 2022
exhibition installation view at Gallery 1C03, Winnipeg (photo by Leif Norman)
By placing these works in dialogue together, Anishinaabe independent curator Franchesca Hebert-Spence disrupts the linearity of an institutional education by foregrounding learning as an ongoing and cyclical practice. Ultimately, this show, organized in conjunction with the Inuit Studies Conference: Auviqsaqtuq, which the university hosted from June 19 to June 22, invigorates viewers, offering new ways to approach conversations about language sovereignty and embodied knowledge. ■
Mark Igloliorte, katinngak, at Gallery 1C03 in Winnipeg from June 20 to Aug. 5, 2022.
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Gallery 1C03
515 Portage Ave, University of Winnipeg, Winnipeg, Manitoba R3B 2E9
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Open Mon to Fri noon - 4 pm, Sat 1 pm - 4 pm.
