Walking into the Nick Sikkuark: Humour and Horror exhibit at the National Gallery of Canada is much like entering an eerie, mystical, sometimes frightening Arctic world. In the dark special exhibitions galleries, viewers are immediately confronted by a singular broad and menacing sculpture–a figment of Sikkurark’s mind. To the left, a creature with bulging eyes and a protruding tongue is pictured on a screen. Next to the strange character is text reading, “Aahh! I’ll be good now!” Exactly what is happening in the image is not totally clear. A feeling of mystery and uneasiness heightens with such uncertainty, but is juxtaposed with playfulness and whimsical colours.
Photo: Sarah Crookall.
To the right is a photo of the Inuk artist on the wall: thin and in his elder years, but equipped with giant perspective. However, Sikkuark is photographed in a simple t-shirt and a ball cap. Juxtapositions thread all through the exhibit, beautifully curated by Christine Lalonde, the National Gallery’s associate curator of Canadian art. A story-making nook allows gallery-goers to experiment with Indigenous forms of storytelling. Then, strewn along seating, illustrated books are waiting to be picked up and read. Nick Sikkuark’s personality is on display.
Photo: Sarah Crookall.
Some of the first few drawings can be found in the artist’s 25-page “Book of Things You Will Never See,” written in both English and Inuktut for the Department of Education of the Northwest Territories.The lively line drawings are selectively coloured and reminiscent of the work of Robert Munsch, who also created children’s books on Indigenous themes. The stories are cute with a cheeky sense of humour. On a wall, there is a fitting quote from Sikkuark: “Without a story, there is no art.”
Photo: Sarah Crookall.
Sikkuark’s tales that precede his own art are largely inspired by his life in Kugaaruk, Nunavut. Working from the ’70s into the 2000s, his creations depict an Arctic tundra with mesmerizing and softly coloured lands, water, and skies. Landscapes and shamans reveal a spirituality deeply embedded in the land, one that is not fully known and appears dangerous. Sikkuark utilizes the Earth in his work, too: Sculptures like his 1989 “Shaman” blur the lines between man and animal with his use of posture and intricately woven caribou materials.
Photo: Sarah Crookall.
Lines continue to blur with coloured drawings like “Untitled (Men Shooting Up Through the Ice)”. A dreamy scene depicts men in fur coats floating up from frozen water toward the sky. Looking at the image, the viewer might wonder whether it’s taken from a transcendent experience or a fantasy. Similarly, the tone is unclear—are the men on some magical mission or are they a frightening omen? Sikkuark doesn’t seem to answer these questions in his artwork. Looking at his own words, he said when he carves creatures that are from his imagination, he “makes them live.”
Photo: Sarah Crookall.
Nick Sikkuark: Humour and Horror evokes a challenging mix of feelings—wonder and fear, curiosity and trouble. The walk through the exhibit is a unique experience. Exiting the gallery, the viewer sees Sikkuark’s intuitive work in automatism with unknown figures depicted on coloured backgrounds. The more abstract forms bring us closer to the mystical, which is mirrored by Lalonde’s final display wall of light beams, mimicking the Arctic phenomenon of the northern lights.
Nick Sikkuark: Humour and Horror is on display at the National Gallery of Canada in the special exhibitions galleries until March 24. An adult gallery ticket is $20, and admission is free Thursday nights after 5pm.
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