( Left ) Holly Mititquq Nordlum received a skin-stitching tattoo from Greenlandic Iñuit artist Maya Sialuk Jacobsen at a 2015 Anchorage Museum presentation and demonstration of Iñuit tattooing .
( Photo by Michael Conti / Anchorage Museum )
( Right ) In August , Anchorage artist Holly Mititquq Nordlum received a Time Warner fellowship from Utah ’ s Sundance Institute to continue filming ‘ Tupik Mi ,’ her documentary about Iñuit tattooing . The project , she says , is “ the most important work I ’ ve ever done .”
( Photo by Phil Hall / University of Alaska Anchorage )
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wants to recognize her ancestry , but [ what ] she ’ s accomplished ,” Nordlum explained .
“ Part of the film is how we adjust . This was common here , this was beauty , this spoke of status in the community and what you ’ ve accomplished ,” she continued . “ Now , it ’ s an interesting dynamic ; two generations later , people don ’ t know who you are . They think it ’ s a trendy thing .”
Nordlum and Jacobsen dream of sharing their knowledge across the Arctic , training Iñuit women in Greenland , Canada , Russia and Alaska so face tattooing — often stigmatized in the West — is again normalized in the North .
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By J . Besl , University of Alaska , Anchorage
For hundreds of generations , Iñuit women across the Arctic tattooed patterned lines , frequently on the chin , that identified their status in the community . Though colonial pressures of the past century disrupted the cultural practice , the gap is fresh . According to Anchorage artist Holly Mititquq Nordlum , now filming a documentary on the subject , the majority of Alaska ’ s Iñuit women — including her greatgrandmother — were tattooed as recently as three generations ago . She ’ s hoping to continue the tradition , and she ’ s not alone .
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The simple lined designs , originally applied via soot and sinew , can be quickly completed with a modern tattoo machine . But the intimacy of hand-poking and skin-stitching provides time to discuss connections to the past and stigmas of the present . Physically , the end result is an upfront , indelible and permanent connection to heritage . Spiritually , the tattoo builds a direct connection to generations of powerful women . That ’ s the story she hope to share in her upcoming documentary .
In August , Nordlum received a Time Warner fellowship from Utah ’ s Sundance Institute to support her film project , Tupik Mi . The brand-name recognition was the latest break in a massive project for Nordlum , connecting her with industry players like HBO and Netflix as she works to continue filming her project . And while the pursuit of funding feels like a full-time job , she ’ s still passionately pursuing the film ’ s subject . As an Iñupiaq woman from Kotzebue , recording and reviving the fading art of Iñuit female face tattooing is incredibly close to home .
Tattooing Threads Artists Across the Arctic
Though Nordlum ’ s worked as an artist for more than a decade , this project is her first foray into film . A visiting printmaker at her Kotzebue junior high first inspired her to become an artist . “ All it took for me was one guy making it fun ,” she recalled . But that interest didn ’ t become a career until enrolling at University of Alaska Anchorage . “ I didn ’ t have the confidence to just say [ I was an artist ],” she recalled of faculty support .
After earning a fine arts degree in 2004 , she launched her graphic design business ,
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Naniq Design , and began collaborating on art education with Anchorage School District , aiming to inspire the next generation of Alaska Native artists . Her work can be seen across the city ( currently , in a poster series at Anchorage Museum , a gallery show at Middle Way Café , and soon on large metal panes at the city ’ s main library ) but the Sundance fellowship , plus funding from Alaska Humanities Forum , has allowed Nordlum a little more
Holly Mititquq Nordlum received a skin-stitching tattoo from Greenlandic Iñuit artist Maya Sialuk
Jacobsen at a 2015 Anchorage Museum presentation and demonstration of Iñuit tattooing .
( Photo by Michael Conti / Anchorage Museum )
freedom to focus on her documentary , which she calls “ all-consuming .”
The project started thanks , in part , to Facebook . While searching for someone to tattoo her own chin , Nordlum connected online with Copenhagen-based Maya Sialuk Jacobsen , a Greenlandic Iñuit tattoo artist researching the vanishing artform . Through support from the Anchorage Museum , Jacobsen visited in 2015 to host an educational symposium and perform her first skin-stitching tattoo on Nordlum .
That initial meeting spurred a much larger project . Alaska Public Media ’ s coverage of the tattooing event went national on NPR ’ s Weekend Edition , prompting a flood of support . “ Native women from all over the world were contacting us ,” Nordlum recalled . Many wanted to know what the process entailed , what the patterns signified , where they could get tattooed . Nordlum discovered a need to educate . As an artist , she decided to make a documentary film .
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Nordlum , with videographer Tanya Telemaque , launched the documentary earlier this year . Aside from two grants , Nordlum is largely self-funding the project with family and friends .
“ This program , I feel , is the most important work I ’ ve ever done ,” she explained . “[ It ’ s ] bringing back something that is Iñuit at heart , healing community and bringing women together in a positive way .”
Identity Through Ink
Jacobsen returned to Anchorage this October to lead a multi-week tattoo training session for Nordlum and three women who want to continue the tradition . While Telemaque filmed , the five women sat around a workshop table , discussing their shared Iñuit heritage .
The tattooed lines symbolize moments in a women ’ s life — reflecting family , marriage , children — and the designs vary by region . But that ’ s the anthropological perspective , gleaned from accounts of missionaries and adventurers , written in Danish , German and Dutch , locked away in library stacks . Jacobsen , in her training , emphasizes the spirituality of the art and the undeniable feeling of connection to the past .
Despite the changing times , the original message — signifying female achievements — remains . “ Every Native woman I know who ’ s interested in getting [ a tattoo ] not only
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“ It isn ’ t easy for people to accept something outside of their boxes ,” Nordlum said of the response she ’ s received from uninformed strangers , particularly Alaska ’ s many tourists . “ We get dirty looks all the time [ and ] picture-taking without permission … It ’ s very exoticized and that ’ s not why I did it . I didn ’ t do this to be a tourist attraction .”
Documentary Records a Shifting Story
The finished documentary will address reactions from community , the positive and negative , as well as the history and healing of tattooing .
Likewise , the film will address the clash of modern regulations and indigenous practice . Since starting the project , Nordlum has found herself mired in policy paperwork , arguing the differences between licensed tattoo studios and cultural tattooing . For help , Nordlum turned to her alma mater to talk with UAA political science professor Dalee Dorough , who sits on the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues . “ Really it ’ s about Native rights and sovereignty and not about a license ,” Nordlum noted of the ongoing regulatory roadblocks .
The policy problems have become an intractable part of the documentary , providing a contemporary chapter to Nordlum ’ s discussion of hardships and healing in her community . Clearly , both the documentary and the revitalization are works in progress . But thanks to social media connecting interested women across the Arctic — and Sundance connecting Nordlum to potential distributors — there ’ s much to look forward to .
For now , her team is back to educating and filming , recording Jacobsen ’ s October workshop on the practice , the patience and the power of Iñuit tattooing .
That was the scene earlier this month , in a back room of the Alaska Native Heritage Center . Five native women — with one behind the camera — poring over packets of designs from across the Arctic , laughing , learning and preparing for what ’ s next .
“ I wish my mom could have seen this ,” Jacobsen said to the small group gathered around the table , smiling warmly as she turned the next page . ■
Visit Holly ’ s website naniqdesign . com for updates on her video project .
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