kón’ ts’îil | inspire

Presences of Arctic Homelands

Artist profile: Erin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich
by Ilegvak (Peter Williams)
E

rin Ggaadimits Ivalu Gingrich is an emerging Alaska Native artist who is already garnering widespread accolades along with early career support from the Native Arts & Cultures Foundation. She is currently a SITE Scholar and pursuing an MFA from the Institute of American Indian Arts. During the bustle of early summer, I interviewed Ivalu over the phone to learn more about her work.

“I have this really deep love and deep gratitude for what has kept me, my Elders, my people, and my Ancestors, tied to the north and tied to these places that I get to call homelands,” she explained. As Ivalu spoke, she occasionally emphasized a word by gently drawing it out, expanding her soft rhythmic tone. Slight interference distorted the call. “And so much of that beauty in their wild being is something that I’ve always been captivated with.”

Wood carved from a unique hand and perspective represents the ancient time from which the art practice was derived. The reiteration flows from a voice rooted in her homelands and continues to bear the markings of both the present and the past.

blue Itigiat masks with dangling maroon beads against a white background

SITNASAUQ ASIAT (NOME BLUEBERRIES)

Smooth, round curvatures of ripe blueberries extend from the wall and stand suspended in space. Multiple long strands of maroon beads connect the masks to portray the lifeline of a plant akin to its roots and how they are held up in place by the spongy moss amongst the vast open tundra. They patiently endure the high-pitched buzz of mosquitoes under the heat of endless summer sunlight and a breeze blowing from the rolling Arctic plain that looks flat as it stretches seamlessly into the horizon. Circular eyes stare wide with wonder and calmly greet you, convinced that you are just as awed by the mystery of life. And the sweet-tangy offering of blueberries.

“I try to represent the gift of their presence and the ability for them to be with us here because they are a part of what makes these places home and we could not exist without them. Representing them with masks has, for me, been the most effective way to do that.”

Itigiat (Weasels) is a group of three masks that look like they are taking a momentary breath between mischievous tasks. Their boxy yet sleek heads are draped in strands of thick white beads, while a few discrete black dots on the end provide an interesting contrast. This effect characterizes their transformation into a blanched winter coat with a tail darkened at the tip that stands out against the snow as the Ermine playfully darts along.

wooden sculpture of salmon with strings of blue beads

SHIFTING IQALUKPIK FROM GGASILAT 1

Drooping strings of blue beads form half-circles below the wooden sculpture Shifting Iqalukpik from Ggasilat 1 like undulations of the ocean. Or the compilation in the life cycle as the salmon returns to the headwaters to reproduce and die where it once entered the world. A shade of vibrant green spreads across the tail fin as it contrasts with the deep red sockeye spawning colors. The piece represents this transition as the hues and tones of the back half depict the salmon’s upstream resurgence. In contrast, the shiny silver part of the artwork embodies various tints of sapphire when it is in the sea. Continuous chiseled grooves surge along the fish, resembling light shifting rapidly in clear water—the ripples in a shallow stream flowing over rocks reflecting off shimmering scales.

The thematic work of Ivalu intricately interweaves the intersection of the gift of life dying so other life can live. Natchiq (Seal) holds a fish’s spine in its mouth, while the grain of the mask’s wood swerves up the bridge of the nose in the form of multiple faint lines before disappearing into the top of the skull. The curvature and expression of the carving make it look like it is changing shape while simultaneously staying present. Strands of beads run through the opening of the mask’s hollow eyes and the emptiness that it exhibits creates the capacity for life to enter, which is replicated throughout her artwork.

wooden bird sculptures with strands of beads dangling

NESTING TITIRGAK FROM TROTH YEDDHA WITH MANNIK

“I like to use beads with my carving to adorn the work in the way I have been adorned my whole life with strands of beads. I’m Koyukon Athabascan as well as Inupiaq and I grew up being gifted with earrings and necklaces and berets and all these beautiful things with delicate beads strung in. It’s really kind of a translation of that active care that I’ve been given by my Indigenous family.”

Ivalu continued: “The beads give the work a fluidity and a presence and an etherealness. You get to experience when you’re with the piece physically because they interact with the space, they interact with you and make great beautiful movements and small moments that are really, valuable to me to see others experience.”

salmon wooden sculptures with heads cut off and beads dangling

IQALUKPIK FOR MY FRIENDS

The Iqalukpik (Salmon) pieces demonstrate some of the most striking ways in which beadwork interplays in her art. This is described by Ivalu as “…the reality of the harvest being present…” With titles such as Spawing Iqalukpik (Salmon) Double From Kasilof River and Iqalukpik (Salmon) From Tustumena Lake. Interestingly enough, the sculptures are displayed with tails up, with long strings of red beads pouring out where the heads would be.

Regarding her use of beads, Ivalu said, “It also adds an element of femininity that really seeks to balance this historically masculine art form. And that’s important to me as well. I learned to bead before I learned to do really anything else. It just creates this really important balance and element and this combination.” She explained that combining the two mediums also creates a wholeness in her work as an Inupiaq and Koyukon Athabascan artist “Carving has this deeper connection to one Indigenous history and beadwork has this connection to my other Indigenous heritage.”

caribou head wooden sculptures with beads dangling

TUTTU (CARIBOU)

In addition to the vibrant use of color, eloquent shapes, and creative utilization of beads, Ivalu infuses texture into her pieces in order to expand their vibrancy. In this particular technique, the marks derived from carving are utilized to enhance the narrative inherent within each piece. The work Tuttu (Caribou) is a powerful illustration of this approach. The flow of hair traveling from the snout to the scruff of the neck brings movement, life and depth to the piece.

In contrast, Ivalu achieves the same effect using smooth surfaces to amplify the work as much as rough ones, in pieces such as Itigiat (Weasels), Pammiuqtuuq (River Otter) and her berry series. Historically, many Alaska Native masks had a distinctively chiseled texture to enhance the experience in front of an audience in a dimly lit room. By capturing light in unique angles, the shadow-speckled mask added another dimension to the performance when worn. The more contemporary and standard smooth look partially emerged due to the demands of Settler traders; collectors sought a more “finished” look.

“I really start my work with intention. I know some carvers; they’ll get material and they’ll let the material speak to them first. I typically approach my material with this intention of, what I want it to be, and I ask it for that permission to let me get to make it into what I want.”

wooden masks with beads dangling from the eyes

MOLTING NATCHIQ FROM SITNASAUQ

Ivalu spoke about her growth as an artist. “I’m just now starting to consider that element of transformation and so trying to develop beyond just a presence in a mask. But also, the transformation element and what it means to have a work that can be worn, that can be danced, that can be performed. I’ve really taken my time in this process of getting there with my work.”

Ivalu continued further: “Taking my time to tend to my practice and develop concepts and ideas of making and studying work of other artists and ancestral artists. I think that I’ve taken my time with making masks and getting to a place where they’re not just representations of presence but going to be adding that element of transformation to these pieces so that they can be activated in the ways that historically, they have been.”

A significant amount of patience is required to develop a time-honored tradition. By practicing this level of patience, Ivalu demonstrates the care she has for her practice and the community. These traits are displayed in her body of work too. Ivalu frequently creates a series of subjects, masks, and sculptures, often in pairs, holding several representations of Northern presences simultaneously. These pieces often signal that nothing is isolated, and the community of ecology reaches beyond the self.

“Last year I made a seal mask that is suppose to represent the molting process that seals go through. So, it kind of is one of those pieces that I get to build on and build a deeper communication with that representation.”

This freedom of working in an intergenerational and interspecific continuum and allowing time for growth is visible in the spatial relationship of subject and object, wherein the two are interchangeable and simultaneous. Ivalu represents various beings of the North, often in a transformative state, watching the observer. Within this subtlety rests a relationship with place since time immemorial with no apparent separation of the onlooker, participant, natural beings, elements and humans. The cultural reverence and mutual dependence of these life forms that compose her ancestral home are incorporated into a visual language. However, some nuances and ethos may be lost in the translation of a Settler gaze.

A distinguishing strength of Ivalu is rooted in her sovereignty as a Native artist. Her work does not necessarily respond to Colonialism. Instead, it simply and profoundly exists as Indigeneity. Because of this cultural perpetuity, the messaging in her work is as much a part of this contemporary time as it is of the ancient past.

A predominantly non-Native liberal-leaning audience often expects or interprets Indigenous artwork to primarily focus on climate change and eco-consciousness. However, this assumption is often made without fully engaging with or genuinely listening to our perspective when we address such topics. This also stems from a cultural bias that environmentalism is detached from the moment-to-moment co-existence of ever-evolving death and rebirth of the natural world.

The artwork of Ivalu prioritizes, as she says, a “deep love and deep gratitude” for cultivating healthy relationships and fostering respect and appreciation for mutual existence. In fact, this way of being enabled her Ancestors to reside in the Arctic, nourish and pass on the life that runs through her. Although the discourse of her work speaks to climate change, it extends beyond this singular issue and strives to delve into the underpinnings of matters frequently overlooked by Settlers because it stems from an Indigenous worldview and is not centered in theirs.

The artistic voice of Ivalu is so powerful, that it almost operates on a haunting frequency. Her vision is highly expansive, creating the capacity to transcend these cultural gaps, especially for those willing to listen.

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