The man who never stopped carving

Theresie Tungilik’s father, Marc Tungilik, never went anywhere without his carving tools.

Even while out hunting on his boat, he took time to work on his carefully crafted pieces.

“He would stop in the middle of the sea and get his carving out. The sound of his carving made the curious seals come very close to him,” Theresie said.

And when her brother got married, Theresie watched her father dash home to work on his carvings during the short window between the ceremony and reception.

“That’s how he was always doing things. He never stopped carving. He never stopped.”

Growing up in Naujaat, Tungilik was well-known in the community for his work.

One day, a visitor to the community asked Tungilik if he would carve a beaver for them, Theresie remembers.

Puzzled, Tungilik asked his daughter what a beaver looked like.

“I was interpreting for him and he goes, ‘What’s that?’ We had never seen a beaver before,” she said.

With no photo reference available at that time, Theresie reached into her pocket.

“I took a nickel out and I showed him.”

Using only the tiny beaver on the coin as a reference, Tungilik carved a beaver made of ivory with a soapstone tail for the visitor to take home.

Along with his art, Tungilik also made household items and hunting tools for his family.

Theresie remembers, as a toddler, playing with tiny ivory toys her father had carefully crafted for her small hands.

“He would have little tea kettles and cups and saucers. He made me an ivory ulu, ivory knife and fork, a spoon. I would actually eat frozen meat with those. The ivory ulu was so sharp it could cut.” she said.

“He was one of those people who didn’t know how to sit still and not do anything. He made his own hunting tools, he made scrapers for my mom and he was always on the go. All the time.”

As he got older, Tungilik, who passed away in 1986, began to make miniature carvings. Theresie still has 37 of them.

She takes one out of a small metal box in her purse and puts it on a black cloth bag spread out on a table. It is a small piece of ivory, no bigger than a toothpick.

“Bust of Christ” by Marc Tungilik. (Photo by Emma Tranter)

But, taking a closer look, it becomes clear that the piece of ivory has been intricately carved into a bust, specifically, the bust of Christ. The face is lifelike, with a sharp nose and long beard. It is so tiny that it can barely be seen with the naked eye.

“He started to carve in any medium he could get his hands on…. Instead of wasting, he would make tiny little ones from the scraps,” Theresie said.

Theresie remembers her father receiving packages that contained carving scraps of ivory and soapstone sent from artists in other communities. He would use these to make his miniature carvings.

“They knew he would use them all,” she said.

He also made tiny carvings of people, which were completely detailed from head to toe.

But at one point, Tungilik started to lose his vision.

“He could barely see what he was making,” Theresie said.

But that did not stop him.

“In order to know how to make the shape, and to know where to file somewhere to make that shape, he would use his tongue to feel where he needed to file,” Theresie said.

“My dad is amazing.”