From the artist’s mind

Joel Maniapik’s watercolour painting was transformed by Pangnirtung weavers into a giant work of woven art

Joel Maniapik perches on a sealskin seat in the lobby of the legislative assembly in Iqaluit with his wife and son beside him. He looks uncomfortable as people begin to file in the doors at either end of the building.

Maniapik, a well-known Pangnirtung artist, is waiting for the unveiling of the largest tapestry ever produced by weavers at the community’s Uqqurmiut Centre for Arts and Crafts. It was Maniapik’s watercolour painting, Back Then, that was chosen in January by the weavers to be depicted in the 10-foot by 22-foot mural tapestry. He has yet to see the finished product.

A hearty crowd has assembled on a damp, grey night to watch as an enormous beige tarp is pulled from the tapestry hanging on the lower half of the lobby wall. It was designed for the upper half of the wall and will be moved up after the Queen’s visit to the city in October.

Weavers Geetee Maniapik, a long-time tapestry studio manager, and Anna Etuangat removed the covering to a round of applause. Because of bad weather, the other five weavers on the project, Jeanie Nakoolak, Kawtysie Kakee, Igah Etoangat and Leesee and Mary Kakee, were not able to attend the unveiling. The Uqqurmiut Centre’s general manager Peter Wilson was also absent.

Back Then, a work of pinks, purples and other muted shades, shows a landscape of rolling hills with a small group of caribou in the lower left corner. A large inuksuk stands in the foreground and a group of hunters walk in the distance on the right side of the work. Birds fly overhead.

To come up with a pattern for the tapestry, the work was scanned into a computer and blown up by about 200 per cent. It was printed off in pieces on about 300 sheets of photocopy paper, which were hung on the tapestry studio’s wall for the weavers to work from. While the entire project took between six and seven months to complete, Geetee Maniapik says the weaving took about four months alone.

“We worked regularly, nine to five, five days a week,” she says.

The size of the tapestry was a challenge for the weavers. While they had produced a 12-foot by 7-foot tapestry for Iqaluit’s Unikkaarvik Visitor Centre in 1992, the large loom in the studio is only 12 feet wide, so the latest piece had to be woven sideways. As lengths were completed it was rolled onto a beam at the weavers feet, so the workers themselves didn’t see the product as a whole until it was completely finished.

“The seven weavers worked side by side,” Geetee says. “There were difficult times, but we worked together.”

Deborah Hickman, the project’s arts advisor, admits there was great anticipation to see the finished tapestry unrolled.

“It just looked like a huge tent of beautiful colours,” she says, smiling.

Before the tapestry was packed for its trip to Iqaluit, where it will remain as a gift to the legislative assembly from the Uqqurmiut Centre, it was put on display at the community centre in Pangnirtung.

Weaver Anna Etuangat, speaking in Inuktitut, says when people went into the studio and saw the tapestry being worked on they really enjoyed it and didn’t expect to see a finished piece of such magnitude.

“They’re very proud of this tapestry,” she says.

Hickman says this project puts the tapestry studio on the map as one of the few in the world that can produce commissioned tapestries for installation in large buildings. Back Then, she guesses, would carry a dollar value of about $150,000.

As Joel Maniapik, his partner Saa Pitsiulak and their baby son Mosesie admire the tapestry, Maniapik says he’s thrilled with the work the weavers have done. He humbly says the watercolour, specifically designed for the tapestry, was a spontaneous creation.

“I do like to go on hikes, though, I think that may have been my inspiration.”

Pitsiulak beams with pride.

“He made it in December, in a couple of hours,” she says, continuing to tell the story of how before they became a couple she bought one of his acrylic paintings.

Mosesie wriggles in the hood of his mother’s amauti, swinging his hands and flashing a massive smile.

“He’s been saying ataata [father] a lot today,” Pitsiulak says.