#Pudlo Pudlat
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arthistoryanimalia · 6 months ago
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For #WorldCaribouDay:
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Pudlo Pudlat (Inuit, 1916-1992)
1 Caribou in Winter Light, 1986
stonecut
25x30.75in (63.5x78.1cm)
2 Pangniq Sniffs the Wind, 1984
stonecut & stencil
24x34in (60.1x86.4cm)
3 Caribou with Arctic Murre, n.d.
coloured pencil & felt-tip drawing
20x25.5in (50.8x64.8cm)
https://www.mutualart.com/Artist/Pudlo-Pudlat/0BC7D0E9B5A8E7D3
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coldcanyon · 3 months ago
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does anyone have a spare $1,100
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artschoolglasses · 3 years ago
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A Good Catch, Pudlo Pudlat, 1980
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mybeingthere · 4 years ago
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KINNGAIT MAN WITH RABBIT. 
By Pudlo Pudlat, Cape Dorset.Pudlo Pudlat (1916 - 1992) was an Inuit artist who used acrylic wash and coloured pencils. His works are in the collections of most Canadian museums. At his death in 1992, Pudlo left a body of work that included more than 4000 drawings and 200 prints.
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baleine-des-sables · 3 years ago
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Pudlo Pudlat
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moma-a-day · 5 years ago
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Running Rabbit by Pudlo Pudlat, 1963
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velcrop · 5 years ago
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Pudlo Pudlat
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equatorjournal · 3 years ago
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Pudlo Pudlat, 1961. “Pudlo Pudlat (1916 - 1992) was a Canadian Inuit artist whose preferred medium was a combination of acrylic wash and coloured pencils. Pudlo’s works over the years demonstrate his keen visual sense, his versatility and innovativeness in subject matter and technique, tempered by his sense of humour --- his knowledge of traditional life on the land and his acknowledgment of the changing times…Pudlo’s thinking/drawing process is a truly creative approach, done both consciously and unconsciously.  “At times when I draw, I am happy, but sometimes it is very hard. I have been drawing a long time now. I only draw what I think, but sometimes I think the pencil has a brain too.” - Pudlo Pudlat. https://www.instagram.com/p/CV00GBttBwF/?utm_medium=tumblr
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iobjectfa20 · 4 years ago
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Print: ‘Imposed migration’ by Pudlo Pudlat.
1986. Cape Dorset, Nunavut, Buffin Island, Canada.
British Museum
Explanation
This image appears in the current exhibit at the British Museum, “Arctic: Culture and Climate.” The exhibit was prompted by some recent archaeological discoveries in the Arctic, but contains a variety of artifacts and art pieces through a range of eras. Not all the objects in the exhibit are accessible online, but some interesting items I found were an intricately-beaded woman’s coat from 1898, an engraved walrus tusk from 1954, and a snowmobile from 1986. Interestingly, none of the objects from the exhibit featured on the website or in downloadable educational materials featured any of the ancient, recently-discovered artifacts; all appeared to be from the 19th century and later. In addition to the various artifacts displayed, the exhibit also features art from contemporary Native artists. These art pieces came from a partnership with the West Baffin Eskimo Cooperative, also called the Kinngait Cooperative.
The Kinngait Cooperative was founded in 1959 by a white Canadian settler who has been credited with “discovering” Inuit art and a local Inuit artist. There had been a longstanding culture of sculpting in the area, but as the cooperative developed, printmaking, drawing, and painting became more popular. Similarly, Pudlat had begun his artistic career as a sculptor but after suffering an injury that made continuing to sculpt difficult, he turned to printmaking, drawing, and painting as his primary forms of expression. He ultimately created over 4000 drawings and 200 prints. Pudlat’s work has been honored and recognized in a variety of ways. He has been featured on UNICEF greeting cards and on Canadian postage stamps, as well as in a variety exhibits. Two years before his death, the National Gallery of Canada opened a retrospective of 30 years of his drawings, the museum’s the first solo show of an Inuit artist.
I chose this exhibit and this particular piece for a variety of reasons. What initially interested me in the exhibit was the murky moral quandary surrounding the newly-discovered ancient artifacts. They had been trapped in ice in the Arctic circle, and if not for Global Warming, would not have become accessible to archaeologists. I find it interesting that none of these artifacts were pictured on the British Museum exhibit page. Furthermore, to include the work of contemporary Native artists in an exhibit centered on cultural artifacts does not do justice to the value of the artistry itself. Pudlat’s drawing powerfully captures the impact of industrialization and militarization on the environment, and through the environment, on Native communities. The other drawings and prints from Native artist in the accessible materials for the exhibit did not offer such a jarring statement; instead they highlighted the aspects of Native life that many often romanticize. I do not know who chose Pudlat’s drawing, but I think it was a brave choice. I hope that soon, more museums will lift up Native artistry and resistance, rather than exoticize it as an anthropological artifact.
Reimagining and Reframing
The image is a simple one. A military-style helicopter appears suspended against a blank background. From the helicopter hang three animals: a walrus on the left, a polar bear in the middle, and a musk ox on the right. The walrus is hung from its head, the polar bear from its neck, and the musk ox from its belly. I find the polar bear in the center to be the most disturbing. It is emaciated, echoing the photographs of polar bears we see increasingly frequently, who due to climate change lose their homes and sources of food. Its coat is yellowed, another sign of ill health. But most notable is that the rope attaching it to the helicopter looks exactly like a noose. The title of the piece is “Imposed migration,” and the image offers the illusion that perhaps the helicopter is simply relocating the animals. We know, however, that this is not really migration, but extermination. The animals will not survive human expansion and the climate change that accompanies our consumerism and greed. The title of the work also echoes the history of forced relocation of Native people – a governmental policy that did not only result in displacement, but also untold death.
This exhibit serves as an example of the British Museum benefiting from climate change. They can attract crowds (putting the pandemic aside for a moment) with the promise of newly-discovered archaeological findings, without grappling with the reality that those items only became recoverable because of a catastrophic loss of Arctic ice. Native populations are among those most effected by climate change; for example, many still rely on hunting and subsistence activities for their livelihoods, and animals are becoming increasingly sparse, and no longer migrate as far south because of rising temperatures. Exhibiting these new archaeological discoveries in a museum provides no benefit or relief to Native individuals suffering from climate-induced food or housing insecurity. In a telling move, the British Museum intentionally kept the BP logo away from promotional materials about this particular exhibit, although BP is a major funding source for the museum. That the museum simply removed the logo, but changed nothing about the policy of accepting BP’s sponsorship and promoting the company, highlighted that this exhibit was constructed to skirt its moral murkiness, not engage in what could be a groundbreaking discussion of ethics.
Referring to the opening up of the new archaeological site as both a tragedy and a treasure trove, a curator at the British Museum continued, “It’s like the library of Alexandria being on fire ... You’re plucking out these books which are coming out … it’s a remarkable window into life, all coming out of the ground in one go.” It’s not like the library of Alexandria being on fire, unless that fire were in fact an arson set by an invading army who then tries to paint themselves as the heroes in the narrative.
There have been some interesting cases and discussions in recent years of museums returning items obtained through various forms of theft, including colonial force, to the original countries or peoples. Last year, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City returned a coffin to Egypt that was determined to have been smuggled out of Egypt by a multinational art trafficking ring. Benin City in Nigeria hopes to open a museum in 2023 to display Benin Bronzes in their city of origin, but has experienced difficulty in getting other countries and museums, including the British Museum, to return them. The blockbuster movie Black Panther featured a scene at the fictional “Museum of Great Britain” in which the lead villain comments on how the items were looted from Africa before stealing them himself. The director wanted to shoot the scene at the British Museum itself, and use the real museum’s name, but the museum did not consent. That the British Museum comes up again and again in examples of pleas to repatriate stolen cultural artifacts speaks to how much of its collection was obtained illicitly. I believe that the objects obtained from these archaeological sites made accessible through climate change should be treated the same way as the Benin Bronzes and should be repatriated.
Reading this account by the curator alongside the belief of James Houston, one of the cofounders of the Kinngait Cooperative, that he had “discovered” Inuit art, reminded me of many of the points Gayatri Spivak made in her groundbreaking essay, “Can the Subaltern Speak?” Although she did not use this terminology, she issued a powerful indictment of the white savior complex, famously identifying a dynamic of “white men saving brown women from brown men.” Colonizers give themselves credit for saving Native peoples without taking accountability for or even recognizing the compounded oppression that they inflict on those they colonize. Houston, for example, felt proud of introducing the Native people he encountered in Kinngait to art forms that they could profit from, taking public credit without also publicly acknowledging the role that the Canadian government and the industrialization and capitalism it introduced played in destroying Native economies.
I read that archaeologists felt rushed to excavate the Arctic sites because looters were pillaging them as the melting ice made them accessible. How do we know that these “looters” were not simply Native people looking to hang on to remnants of their culture? I think of the disparity in newspaper captions after Hurricane Katrina, in which White survivors who took food from abandoned stores were termed “resourceful” and Black survivors doing the same thing were portrayed as looters and criminals. What separates the archaeologists themselves from the title of looters? My reimagined exhibit would address these questions head-on. Who can claim ownership to an ancient item? What constitutes theft? How should such an artifact be displayed? If that artifact or piece of art is obtained through some form of violence, how should that violence be acknowledged? What is a just reparation?
There is a long history of museums degrading Native art. The American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) in New York City for example, which primarily features dinosaur bones, animal panoramas, and other exhibits on the natural (non-human) world, has a wing on Native American art and culture. The inclusion of Native Americans in the AMNH is, to say the least, dehumanizing. Native Americans are not Neanderthals. They are alive and could be thriving if not for European settler colonialism. The myth and romanticization of Native ways of living as an older and purer but unrealistic way of life does violence to all the Native people incorporating centuries of ritual into their 21st-century existence. For this reason, I believe that Native art should no longer be featured in exhibits that also contain archaeology; nobody would put an Andy Warhol painting in an exhibit with colonial-era embroidery. Native people deserve the same degree of attention and distinction.
—Mira R
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moma-prints · 4 years ago
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Running Rabbit, Pudlo Pudlat, 1963, MoMA: Drawings and Prints
Purchase Size: composition (irreg.): 20 3/4 x 14 7/16" (52.7 x 36.6cm); sheet: 24 15/16 x 19 11/16" (63.3 x 50cm) Medium: Stone cut
http://www.moma.org/collection/works/71457
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laughicate · 5 years ago
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artwork by Pudlo Pudlat (1916-1992)
you can view 1000s of other artworks by Inuit artists from Kinngait (Cape Dorset) at Iningat Ilagiit online archive
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shes-good-people · 4 years ago
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Pudlo Pudlat
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aubreylstallard · 5 years ago
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Pudlo Pudlat
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artschoolglasses · 4 years ago
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Spring Camp at Igakjuak, Pudlo Pudlat, 1975
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mybeingthere · 3 years ago
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Another masterpiece by Inuit artist Pudlo Pudlat.
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neshamama · 5 years ago
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pudlo pudlat, “the new amautik,” 1974, lithograph
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