Over the last ten years the number of Inuit curators working in institutions has grown from very few independent curators to a significantly higher number working in the field, and there are now multiple Inuit who hold or have held curatorial positions at major institutions in Canada. This has occurred while institutions are grappling with their responsibilities to recognize their colonial legacies and include Indigenous Peoples at all levels of decision-making in the care and curation of Indigenous works within their collections.

These changes have long been spurred by calls from Indigenous activists but also by successive reports by the United Nations, in 2007, [1] and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC), in 2015, [2] which affirmed that art institutions have a duty to do this work. Since 2015 many institutions pronounced their commitments to reconciliation and decolonial work; in a 2022 report, [3] the Canadian Museums Association and the federal government further affirmed their commitments as well. But what have institutions really done after publicizing these commitments? 

This is something that Dr. Heather Igloliorte and Taqralik Partridge regularly contend with as Inuit curators with more than four decades of combined experience working as guest and institutional curators. More meaningful work needs to be done to dismantle existing colonial structures in arts institutions, yet in the last few years institutional priorities appear to be shifting away from reconciliation work. There has been high turnover of Inuit curators, and other Indigenous curators, in permanent roles at institutions, as they leave work environments that are not suitable for them. Here Igloliorte and Partridge discuss their experiences working with institutions as Inuit curators, the barriers Inuit face when working in these spaces and what lessons can be learned for the future.



Installation view of SakKijâjuk: Art and Craft from Nunatsiavut (2016–2020), a touring exhibition guest curated by Dr. Heather Igloliorte; here shown at The Rooms in St. John’s, NL, 2016 COURTESY THE ROOMS

HEATHER IGLOLIORTE: When Indigenous people are in charge of telling our stories, whether it’s through curation, film or any other medium, it’s revolutionary. We can control our own narratives and diverge from expected content, such as focusing on trauma. We can explore themes that celebrate our joy and humour, our ways of being; we can show art through our own perspectives without having to cater to outside expectations of what Inuit art “should be.” Taqralik, we’ve seen a lot of changes in Inuit art throughout our careers; what stands out to you the most about Inuit curation over the last decade? 

TAQRALIK PARTRIDGE: INUA (2021–2023), which you curated with asinnajaq, Kablusiak and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski, at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG)-Qaumajuq was a big moment, not only because it was the inaugural exhibition of Qaumajuq but also because four Inuit curators, one from each region of Inuit Nunangat, were there to make connections back to their communities. Your travelling exhibition SakKijâjuk: Art and Craft from Nunatsiavut (2016–2020) at The Rooms was also a big deal, specifically underlining that Nunatsiavut Inuit artists exist and are creating important work today. And having asinnajaq as a member of the curatorial team for the Canadian Pavilion at the 58th Venice Biennale in 2019 was huge, because it was the first time an Inuk participated in the curation of Canada’s pavilion.

Pitseolak Ashoona The Critic (c. 1963) Graphite 47.6 × 61.6 cm COURTESY NATIONAL GALLERY OF CANADA REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

HI: Those were big projects! What stands out to me is also two shows you co-curated with many amazing folks, ᐊᖏᕐᕋᒧᑦ / Ruovttu Guvlui / Towards Home (2022–2024) at the Canadian Centre for Architecture and Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak (2018) at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). The scale of these collaboratively curated projects and what they could mean for shifting institutional practices was important—for example, the preparing and feasting of a seal on the floor of Walker Court, the central meeting space of the AGO, is now legendary. And then a personal highlight of course is witnessing the impact of our project, Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership: The Pilimmaksarniq / Pijariuqsarniq Project, on curatorial practice, like seeing Krista curate Nuvisi: Threading Our Beads at Qatiktalik (2021) at Carleton University Art Gallery as part of her doctoral project. The pool of Inuit curators widened and deepened significantly over the last seven years. 

TP: In terms of Inuit holding curating positions, it was a big deal in 2019 when Jocelyn Piirainen became the first Inuk in Canada to hold a lead curatorial position at a major museum as Assistant Curator at WAG-Qaumajuq and when Jessica Kotierk became the first Inuk Manager and Curator of Nunatta Sunakkutaangit Museum in Iqaluit, the only museum in Nunavut. For me personally, going to Ottawa, ON, as director of the Nordic Lab at SAW Gallery from 2020 to 2022 was also a highlight, because it was the first time I held a permanent curatorial role at an institution.

Installation view of INUA (2021–2023), guest co-curated by asinnajaq, Dr. Heather Igloliorte, Kablusiak and Krista Ulujuk Zawadski at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, 2021 COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO SERGE GUMENYUK

HI: And now we’re getting to a critical mass, where there are institutional jobs for Inuit and Inuit to fill them. Ooleepeeka Eegeesiak was at the University of Lethbridge Art Gallery in Alberta, Jocelyn was at the WAG-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, Reneltta Arluk was acting and directing in theatre alongside her managerial arts career, and now the three of them are working full time at the National Gallery of Canada. Having three Inuit staff at a Canadian museum who work in leadership or curation is unprecedented. Imagine going into a workplace and you’ve got two other Inuit colleagues in the office—it’s amazing. 

TP: It is amazing, and having Inuit curators specifically is so important. Inuit art is a big deal: it forms a good part of the collections of so-called Canadian art in institutions across the country and all over the world. That presence means resources should be put towards its activation, and those resources should go to Inuit because it is now time to bring these narratives to light. Inuit have been calling for these changes and institutions have to put action to their words on this. 

Installation view of works on paper by Kananginak Pootoogook, curated by Emily Laurent Henderson, as part of Conversations: Masterworks from the McMichael Canadian Art Collection (2022–2024) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, ON, 2024 COURTESY MCMICHAEL CANADIAN ART COLLECTION 

HI: Inuit curators bring a specific, distinction-based and critical lens to museum and gallery work. I know First Nations and Métis curatorial colleagues who work in institutions and they aren’t comfortable speaking for Inuit art and artists in their collections any more than we would be comfortable speaking for them. So when it comes to issues like cataloguing, labelling and updating the spelling of place names and Inuktitut names, institutions need Inuit leadership. I think about these as some of the broader outcomes of decolonial processes in the institution. 

TP: Labelling problems are very common, whether it’s racist language or a mistake in the title. A lot of times Inuit artists have not titled their art themselves, or if they have, the title is written in Inuktitut on the actual work but the English title on the provenance paperwork doesn’t match.

Andrew Qappik Andrew and Annie (2010) Etching and aquatint 38 x 48 cm COURTESY DAVIC GALLERY © THE ARTIST

HI: These are just some of the many contributions Inuit staff make in institutions. A big part of it is just being the Inuk in an institution. Being there to welcome Inuit visitors. Being there for artists. Being there to speak up for what would benefit Inuit over the institution when needed, like incorporating Inuktitut in labelling, or making sure funding is allocated to support Inuit artists who have extended family commitments or who need a travelling companion for accessibility.

TP: For Inuit though, working with institutions can be tough. Any advancements that we’ve made as Inuit curators or Inuit leaders in the cultural and arts fields has been somewhat held back by an unwillingness to hand over control of Inuit heritage to Inuit hands. I have seen this across many institutions, particularly those that are heavily involved with Inuit art—sometimes it’s about money, sometimes individual staff, or a lack of commitment from leadership.

Inuit should be the ones who are curating the narratives around Inuit heritage, who are telling the stories, uplifting each other. Non-Inuit in positions of power have disagreed with this statement at times, but we should not be afraid to say it. 

Annie Pootoogook Group Portrait (Pat, Annie, & Nancy) (2006) Coloured pencil and ink 55.9 × 76.2 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

HI: Inuit should have autonomy over how we tell those stories too, and be credited as such. There’s a long history, from Alaska to Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), not just in Canada, of Inuit and other Indigenous curators who have all the knowledge and experience, but maybe not the typical Western educational background that Western institutions have required, and when they come into these spaces with their ideas and expertise, they are still not trusted to be able to curate on their own; the institution is only comfortable if an institutional curator is working alongside them.

As someone who is a curator but also a full-time professor, I feel very fortunate to have largely avoided this situation, and I have the job security to walk away from a project if it’s not going well—and I have, a few times. So even though I am always a guest curator, never the institutional curator, I have had a fair bit of freedom in my curatorial work. It wasn’t always this way; I recognize that this is a privilege. But being an independent curator outside of the institution also limits the impact of my work in some critical ways; I don’t have any say over a lot of institutional changes that staff curators do, like acquiring art, being involved in museum policy or hiring. 

Installation view of Tarralik Duffy: Let’s Go Quickstop (2023–2024), curated by Taqralik Partridge at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, 2023 PHOTO STEFAN CHUA

TP: Speaking as somebody who has worked in various institutions as staff and as a contract curator, one thing about contract work is that, yes, you don’t have the ability to influence the institution, but also they don’t have as much of a hold on you. And so it’s somewhat more possible to be vocal about your concerns, and also a lot of your time is not spent in the day-to-day aspects of the job. 

My attitude is that when we enter these institutions, our goal is to do something that will be useful to our communities, even though the framework that we enter is not of Inuit design and not always conducive to the best outcomes for Inuit communities. The institutions are not made for Inuit, so we have to do some acrobatics to make exhibitions, programming and other events good for Inuit; this goes from how we work with the artists to how we welcome visitors. In curatorial contract work, sometimes it’s almost easier for Inuit—the institution is motivated to treat you well because you bring a specific value for a limited amount of time without the cost of a full-time commitment. If you’re employed as staff, it can be more difficult to insist on the parts of the work that you know to be important to you as an Inuk.

HI: I can likewise feel a bit jaded about guest curating because of how tenuous it can be. Sometimes you feel like you put so much of yourself and your community into the work and people at the institution are telling you that they’re really invested in change, and you produce something amazing, but afterwards no long-term decolonial change comes at the institutional level. 

Installation view of Tunirrusiangit: Kenojuak Ashevak and Tim Pitsiulak (2018), co-curated by Georgiana Uhlyarik and guest curators Koomuatuk (Kuzy) Curley, Anna Hudson, Taqralik Partridge, Jocelyn Piirainen and Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto COURTESY ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO PHOTO DEAN TOMLINSON

TP: I honestly do not think that it is possible to Indigenize these institutions. I think what is possible is to carve out pockets within these institutions, and to fight for having them with as many resources and as much independence as possible. I see the work that you do, striving to open spaces for both other Indigenous communities and Inuit specifically; but that space and those resources follow you. Once you go, if somebody’s not there to hold the door open, what happens? Big picture, what kind of sustained and stable future is there for Inuit artists in institutions that are not truly Inuit-led? 

HI: As an academic I have access to apply for grants, and for the Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership project, I have used that grant funding to support Inuit postsecondary students who are interested in working in the arts to gain the experience they need to succeed on their own terms. As the Principal Investigator, or grant leader, for Inuit Futures, I have often been the primary funding source for the projects the students were working on, and thus able to set certain working conditions for the Inuit students to get those hands-on training experiences.

With Inuit Futures we brought on Indigenous mentors when the institutions didn’t have Indigenous staff and were able to provide the Inuit curators with greater security around the conditions of their employment and the scope of autonomy they had, helping overcome some of these common curatorial barriers. For example, as the funder, we are their employer, not the institution; we let both the students and institutions know that the student can always leave, take a break, pause their employment, or try a different role without any kind of professional penalty. If the workplace isn’t a good fit, the student isn’t locked into a job they don’t like or aren’t benefiting from; we can always find them something else, but the institution can’t just as easily replace the student because the funding goes with them. It tips the scales away from the typical power dynamic between big arts institutions and interns.

Installation view of Inuk Style (2020–2022), curated by Jocelyn Piirainen at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq in Manitoba, 2020 COURTESY WAG-QAUMAJUQ PHOTO SERHII GUMENUYK

I am so very happy with where all the Inuit Futures students have ended up: everyone has become employed or is furthering their education, they are becom-ing mentors themselves and change-makers. So perhaps we helped Inuit to realize more of their potential and figure out if they want to work in the arts, but did we transform any of the institutions that we worked with? No. It wasn’t even really a goal because like you, I question whether that’s really possible.

I’m actually a bit surprised by which museums, galleries and institutions have kept their decolonial activities going on their own—ones that you would think would be more hesitant because they don’t know as much about Inuit art are the ones saying, “Come in and do it, I’ll give you all the autonomy you want and fund you and support you,” while others that have a long history with Inuit art don’t always necessarily want to give over the reins. Those institutions have done things a specific way for a long time, and it’s easier for them to keep doing things that way than to allow Inuit to lead in new and possibly uncomfortable or unconventional directions.

For example, the University of Michigan Museum of Art has been a very keen partner, both super excited to continue to do the work and to keep things going with new curators, new curatorial projects and a widening scope of collaborative work. A part of that can be attributed to the art donor they are working with, who really loves and has a major collection of Inuit art, and so they have funding that’s coming in for this specifically, which plays a role.

It can also really depend on the individual staffers at institutions. Take Director Sandra Dyck at Carleton University Art Gallery: their collection was also created by a major donation years ago, but with that, Sandra has created opportunities for Inuit, and she’s supporting without speaking over or speaking for Inuit. She gave me my first curatorial position in Inuit art. Sandra was doing this work before reconciliation was a common discourse, and I know she’s someone who will keep doing this work into the future. I can get cynical, but I’m always hopeful, buoyed by strong allies. 

Installation view of Alootook Ipellie: Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border (2018–2020), a touring exhibition co-curated by Sandra Dyck and guest curators Dr. Heather Igloliorte and Christine Lalonde; here shown at Carleton University Art Gallery in Ottawa, ON, 2018 COURTESY CARLETON UNIVERSITY ART GALLERY PHOTO JUSTIN WONNACOTT

TP: For me that’s just a pragmatic attitude to have. Being Inuk, being Indigenous, and coming into relationships with institutions that historically sought to have all of our cultures disappear, or at the very least to put them in boxes and have them contained, I know there’s always that fraught relationship that will be there. 

A few years ago, reconciliation became a big buzzword. And people were saying, “Yes I’m going to be a part of this wave and if I start doing land acknowledgements then it shows that I am totally in on this.” But the reality is that those early shows of enthusiasm have not in most cases been followed up with actions or with a long-term commitment to the work, because once you start getting into the tedium of it, it’s not fun. This work takes not only large gestures but also many small consistent changes in everyday interactions with artists and communities, as well as continual reflection and adjustment. 

Reconciliation is not just something popular that makes you as an institution look good for the moment—it’s an ongoing commitment to work that needs to be done over the long term. Without a profound commitment to this work, much of the activity in the name of reconciliation is just a rhetorical gesture.

What really matters is that Canadians, in the Canadian context, recognize that reconciliation and allyship towards Indigenous Peoples—and if we’re talking specifically in the arts, then it’s allyship towards Indigenous artists and cultural workers—is not just words, and that they hold institutions to account when they don’t take action.

Installation view of ᐊᓚᒃᑳᔪᑦ Alakkaajut (Many Things Appear) (2021–2022), curated by Taqralik Partridge at SAW Gallery in Ottawa, ON, 2021 COURTESY SAW GALLERY NORDIC LAB PHOTO KATHERINE TAKPANNIE

HI: So how can Inuit support themselves and each other when institutions haven’t done the work yet? 

TP: I think Inuit have to rely on our community; as Inuit curators or as cultural workers, we are always conscious of “how is what I’m doing going to reflect on my community members? How are they affected? Is it going to benefit or hurt them?”

When we’re working within institutions, we need to rely on community members and our colleagues. I have had so much support from other Inuit working in the field. I think that’s one of our great strengths, and that support is half the battle with an institution. 

Installation view of ᖏᕐᕋᒧᑦ / Ruovttu Guvlui / Towards Home (2022–2024), a touring exhibition co-curated by Rafico Ruiz and guest curators Joar Nango, Taqralik Partridge and Jocelyn Piirainen; here shown at the University of Toronto in Ontario, 2023 COURTESY CANADIAN CENTRE FOR ARCHITECTURE PHOTO SCOTT NORSWORTHY

HI: Yes, on top of all the work that all curators do, as Inuit in institutions, we have to represent Inuit art and artists the best we can, be conscientious about potential benefits and harms to community, look out for one another and be the person who intervenes between the artist and the institution. 

What I mean is, when we create opportunities for an artist at an institution, that doesn’t mean that afterwards the institution is going to feel like they’re in a reciprocal relationship with that artist going forward. But I’m going to be in reciprocity with that artist, so I am going to personally commit to them and try to do my best by them. You have to be an advocate for not only yourself but for everyone you bring into the institution. 

TP: Yes, I think that is about right. Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory and I were also talking about the different ways that Inuit can translate their work in the arts field into a career, because the institution may not be of value, or it may not be the ultimate value for Inuit working in the arts if they are not treated properly. It may be that people get money from their local town council to do projects, or sell their work on Instagram, or in commercial settings that are not part of the “art scene.”

Paulassie Pootoogook Composition (Woman Holding Drawing) (1959–69) Etching and aquatint 50.8 x 66 cm COURTESY FEHELEY FINE ARTS REPRODUCED WITH PERMISSION DORSET FINE ARTS © THE ARTIST

HI: That’s true—institutions have a long way to go to create good working environments for Inuit. What do you think they still need to work on? 

TP: Funding and trust. I want to see Inuit curators, cultural workers, you name it, in positions where they are given the reins fully: given autonomy in the workplace, given control of their budgets, able to decide their own exhibition schedule or who they call in as a designer, etc.

The other thing that I want to see from all these Canadian institutions is investment. Not just doing this because a grant is available, but actually digging into their regular budget. 

HI: Agreed. As I said earlier, I also want the Inuit doing this work to have more autonomy. At first we weren’t included at all, and then we were sought out for advice which led to us becoming part of committees or advisories, and then there was a lot of collaboration between Inuit and Qallunaat in institutions; now it’s exciting to see all the Inuit-to-Inuit collaborative work.

We need to keep moving that needle forward, along with increased project budgets, more autonomy, more gathering together; and I’d love to see more full-time curatorial and leadership positions emerge. 

Dr. Heather Igloliorte is a Nunatsiavummiuk- Newfoundlander from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL. She is the Canada Excellence Research Chair in Decolonial and Transformational Indigenous Art Practices at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, and the Director of the Inuit Futures in Arts Leadership project. Igloliorte also serves as the President of the Board of Directors for the Inuit Art Foundation, among other roles.

Taqralik Partridge is a writer, artist and curator from Kuujjuaq, Nunavik, QC, based in Ottawa, ON. Partridge’s artistic work focuses on and celebrates Inuit life in the North and in the South. Partridge has held positions as Editor-at-Large for the Inuit Art Quarterly, Director of the Nordic Lab at SAW Gallery, Adjunct Curator at the Art Gallery of Guelph and Associate Curator of Indigenous Art at the Art Gallery of Ontario. She was longlisted for the Sobey Art Award in 2024.

NOTES

1 United Nations, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, A/RES/ 61/295, 2007, accessed May 8, 2024, social.desa.un.org/issues/indigenous-peoples/united-nations-declaration-on-the-rights-of-indigenous-peoples.
2 Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, “Canada’s Residential Schools: Reconciliation: The Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada,” vol. 6, 2015, accessed May 8, 2024, nctr.ca/records/reports/#trc-reports.
3 Canadian Museums Association, “Moved to Action: Activating UNDRIP in Canadian Museums,” 2022, accessed May 8, 2024, museums.ca/site/movedtoaction.