Academic adventure in the Arctic
Graduate student taps into the hidden treasure trove of Inuit culture
By Sonia Gunderson
In early August, Johnny, a five-year-old neighbor, came to my door cradling what looked like a rounded clod of dry mud. Eyes sparkling, he separated the clod into two halves, revealing a hidden universe of gleaming crystals in the geode he had found near Keokuk, Iowa. We both gasped with delight as the crystals glistened in the sun.
This surprising miracle of nature echoes my own discoveries stumbling upon what, at first glance, appears to be another unpromising natural wonder – Canada’s high Arctic desert and the Inuit who have lived there for more than four thousand years.
When an opportunity arises in summer 2000 to join a small group for a 10-day wilderness canoe trip on Baffin Island’s Soper River, I leap at the chance, ignoring the furrowed brows of a handful of friends.
Sonia Gunderson
Sonia Gunderson and actors on the set of "The Journals of Knud Rasmussen."
"It’s COLD up there, even in summer,” Jim warns me. “Are you sure you can handle traveling alone when you get off the river?” Sharon worries. Indeed, I decide to expand the trip for an extra month – never expecting I will return to the region – to meet Inuit artists from five different communities and camp in two national parks.
When my plane lands at the small Iqaluit airport in late June, the first blast of Arctic air takes my breath away. Glancing out over the desolate tundra, I briefly wonder, “what am I DOING here?”
I soon adjust to this alien world, where NASA sends astronauts to train for research on the moon. In fact, within a week I contract a serious case of “Arctic Fever,” a condition that infects many visitors to the North.
My symptoms? A fascination with Inuit culture and the pristine wilderness these gentle nomadic people inhabit near the top of the world. In the course of my “treatment,” I read voraciously and network with those similarly afflicted – adventurers, artists, curators, art historians, anthropologists, journalists. I later travel to the Arctic two more times as a freelancer for the “Inuit Art Quarterly” and “Above & Beyond,” an in-flight magazine.
A highlight of these trips is the opportunity in Spring 2005 to live at a remote outpost camp 200 miles above the Arctic Circle with Inuit filmmaker Zacharias Kunuk and the cast and crew of his latest production, “The Journals of Knud Rasmussen.” Kunuk’s first feature, “Atanarjuat: the Fast Runner,” swept the top awards at Cannes and other film festivals in 2001 and 2002, so his new film generates widespread anticipation. My assignment? To write a behind-the-scenes story about Inuit filmmaking.
Two weeks of camping with Kunuk and other members of the production open my eyes to the anti-Hollywood approach to filmmaking. Imagine: No monstrous film-industry egos. No caterers. No electricity. Decision-making by consensus. A shooting schedule that accommodates both the changeable weather and the preference of the cast and crew to stay up all night to bask in the breathtaking light of the Midnight Sun. A commitment to authenticity that supersedes financial and physical hardships. Elders monitoring every detail of the script, set and costumes to assure cultural accuracy. The involvement of the local community as actors, costume and props makers, set designers and crew.
Sonia Gunderson
Gunderson (right) interviews 83-year-old Inuit elder Zipporah Innuksuk in her home. Leah Otak translates from the Inuktitut.
Kunuk considers his filmmaking as part of the Inuit oral tradition, which has preserved cultural knowledge from generation to generation for millenia. During the last 60 years, that tradition has faced serious challenges, as Inuit have been forced into permanent settlements and adopted the educational, religious, legal, political, and economic systems of southern Canada.
“My work is to educate our people,” Kunuk says. “To put them back on the ground where they came from.”
Kunuk’s work is one of a number of factors that contribute to his home community of Igloolik’s reputation as a beacon of cultural preservation for all Inuit. I learn of other factors – the settlement’s remote location; its strong leadership, detailed records of its history and traditions, contained in the journals of explorers such as Knud Rasmussen and Peter Freuchen; an active elders’ society; a thriving oral history project; and a commitment to preserving Inuktitut, the Inuit language.
For my master’s project at UI, I decide to examine the elements that contribute to Igloolik’s role as a guardian of Inuit culture. I will also consider aspects of the community’s approach that might be useful to other Inuit communities and indigenous peoples. Time is of the essence. In Nunavut, the new Inuit-controlled territory where Igloolik is located, less than 1,000 elders who engaged in the traditional nomadic lifestyle are still alive, and over 50 percent of the population is under the age of 22.
None of this research would be possible without the generous support of the Stanley Fellowship. Expenses in the Arctic are exorbitant: roundtrip airfare from Ottawa to Igloolik is $3,000; an apple costs $7, a quart of milk $15.
In January 2007, I will return to Igloolik to interview elders and attend the annual “Return of the Sun” celebration. Despite more furrowed brows from my friends (“The Arctic? In January?”), I am eager to begin the next phase of this rich cultural journey.
Sonia Gunderson is a freelance writer and student in the UI Master's Professional Program in the School of Journalism and Mass Communication. Based in Fairfield, Iowa, Gunderson writes primarily about arts, travel, culture and cross-cultural issues. She is a regular contributor to the “Inuit Art Quarterly” and “Above & Beyond,” an in-flight magazine. She plans to graduate in December 2007 and hopes to use her master's project as the basis for a book.