Once again, we find ourselves cast out of a comfortable existence as residents of a community and solidly back in the roll of wayfarers on the dusty paved ribbon that connects there to here.

Leaving Inuvik was pretty strange. Saying goodbye was surreal, I guess because it seemed that we had settled into a niche in the town. We had a place and a purpose. As we did the rounds to thank and say "so long" to the people who were so generous with their hearts and homes, many people didn't believe that we were going as our stay had extended far beyond what had been planned. Another common reaction from them was the saying "Ah! You guys'll be back!" And, that is certainly a good possibility. Then again, what isn't a good possibility on an open road with no fixed points on the map between the start and the beginning?

The constant change of road life, and moving from place to place, meeting new friends, learning about new issues, and falling in love with new landscapes is going to be for the our hearts and spirits what weight lifting is to the muscles: a process of strengthening!

It isn't easy, but it's the nature of our project.

I think Dan actualized this for the first time since we began this journey over three months ago yesterday as we bombed out of Dawson last night, chasing the darkness south to Whitehorse for a CBC interview. He actualized what it'll mean to leave behind people and things that we fall in love with.

I feel it's an important milestone.

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I was listening to Sheligh Rogers interview Canadian singer-songwriter Sam Roberts on CBC several days ago. Roberts was talking about his new album Chemical City which comments on the environment of cities where pollution is present in the air, water, sounds, and the sights. And I suppose that the problems of having a livelihood tied to such “chemical cities” necessitated that Roberts and his band escape to an out-of-the-way town in Australia to decompress and allow the creative process of recording an album to flow.

When I heard this, I couldn’t help but think how ironic it is that humans, creatures of nature, have created so many places that are so unnatural and devoid of nature. Large parts of modern cities and their periphery are composed of needless, soulless filler that is just plain ugly. The paradox is that even the worst of these places foster a high degree of positive things like artistic, cultural, and intellectual diversity (the things that expand the mind and liberate the soul).

People like Sam Roberts, Dan, and myself come from backgrounds that have given us access to the afore mentioned things that have given us perspectives that result in questioning the world around us. However, in some ways we are just conforming to a fashion.

Through the idea of the Searching for Dragons project and the massive undertaking it entails, Dan is really just another voice in the choir. Modern urbanites of the West seem to be constantly coming to grips with our place in nature and where technology and media are steering us. Such questions have transcended centuries.

Roberts song “The Gate” says that the city has no heart but lots of light. This echoes the band America’s statement in “Horse With No Name” that “under the city lies a heart made of ground but the humans will give no love.” Why, in the forty odd years of human “progress” between the release of these two songs, has nothing changed? So many artists talking about the same thing: how there is something lacking – intangible but distinct – in the modern urban environment. Are they simply broken records, or rather records playing for deaf ears?

Questioning the status quo of anything (society, economy, or environment) shouldn’t be a privilege of people who live near, have access to, or are educated in the city; nor should it be something reserved for a certain economic or cultural elite. Yet this seems to be how our world works most of the time. Moreover, there’s a minute set of people whose questions are even given a passing consideration on such issues. Why is that?

I believe that part of the answer lies in humanity’s quest for stability: the more questions about our world that are given heed or considered, the more instable our world becomes. Hence, almost everyone is reluctant to accept the implications of even the possibility of inconvenient ideas like peak oil, global warming, or the foundations of the North American economy being based on unsustainable consumption. For many of us modern-day humans, our ideal of comfort incorporates a mindset that sees most change, adversity, and difference as bad if it means a large shift from what is “normal”. But consider this: when have change, adversity, and difference not been a part of life on Earth? Never.

Why can’t we move beyond the desire for life to be a set of static conditions, to the quest for the capability to thrive in an ever changing world? Imagine if, when the first person to perceive the possible negative repercussions of an industrial practice didn’t have to fight against fear and scorn to have their idea heard. Rather, imagine that their idea was met with a general open curiosity and eagerness to explore such implications and meet the challenges they present. Imagine!

To do this, though, would require a complete change in our understanding of the world. Uncertainty, instability, and chaos though endemic and common, are not only scary but also present us with hurdles to our hedonistic enjoyment of the moment; yet hurdles like the security of our great-great-grand children’s future are things that we should be forced to consider.

We need to change the way we think and, more importantly, the way we teach our children to think about the nature of a world in constant flux and confront its challenges. When we can do this, then we will start to see the end of the chemical cities Roberts laments.

During our time at the cabin on Mashuyak Dan introduced me to our Mimiya medium format camera, “Elke” (named after Dan’s mom, whose camera it was at one time). I’d say that this was the next (fourth) milestone on my journey of photographic aesthetics. The past two years I’ve been so caught up in the digital medium, that I had forgotten the beauty of film. Now, granted, we haven’t developed any of the rolls yet, and for all I know they could all be crap; but, I’ve got a feeling they won’t be.

This camera is a little older - from the 70s. I've seen the new Mimiyas, and they're awesome, but there is something totally charming about the boxy design of vintage we have, like the Volvos of the same era. There is something undeniably pleasing about looking down the large viewfinder and using the pop-up magnifying glass to examine every detail of what’s in the frame and to ensure it’s in focus. There is something absolutely satisfying about the precision of the movement of the focus, shutter speed and aperture dials, not to mention the subtle but concise “click” of the shutter. (Below: Dan films with the Bolex that is yet to be named, while Elke waits.)

Medium format demands your attention and time in order for you to choose a subject and to compose your shot. You must have an accurate reading from your light metre and adjust the speed and aperture accordingly. Because there are only twelve shots in a roll of film and developing is very expensive there is no reward for distraction or haste.

What makes medium format so great, you ask? Simple: its size (6cm square) is much larger than 35mm. When you are dealing with large subjects, like the stunning cliffs, rocks, ice, snow, and water that comprise the landscapes we saw around Mashuyak, this will translate into vividness of colour and sharpness of the image when it is printed. And, when you print it, you could blow it up to be a HUGE wall sized poster and not loose one iota of clarity. And thinking about single shots of these vast expanses and massive ancient rocks printed and placed alone on a wall made me increasingly giddy with each photograph I composed and shot.

After this, going back to shooting with my little Canon digital camera and seeing what I wanted to be wicked images become pixilated on Photoshop before my eyes makes me feel sick. I don't deny that the digital medium has its place; but compared to medium format, it seems like a bit of a joke. (Dan, Elke and I: good friends after Mashuyak)

After the return journey from Mashuyak, Dan and I stopped in at the Arctic Char Inn in Ulukhaktok for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. Some of the people in the restaurant were telling us that we had missed a big celebration for Jimmy and Laura Memogana’s 60^th wedding anniversary that past weekend.

We were a little disappointed, because there had been a drum dance, and this coupled with the scheduling of several big BINGO games during the week meant that there wouldn’t likely be another drum dance while we were in town. However, we met a woman who said she was sure another drum dance could be arranged so that we could see it.

“Mashuyak!” we exclaimed - our new expression meaning “awesome!” in recognition of the awesome string of days we spent in the cabin on the land.

On Wednesday after dinner, in the golden warmth of a windless Arctic spring evening, Dan and I made our way to the address we were told the drum dance would be at. Coincidently, it was also the house of Jimmy and Laura Memogana.

We were among the first to arrive. We took off our boots and walked into the living room where Jimmy, who was nursing a cold, was lounging on a sofa and Laura was on a loveseat next to him. Their daughter, Wilma, and some of their grandkids were also there. Soon, more people, mostly kids, drifted into the house and sat or stood around waiting.

Wilma Memogana, brought out a big wooden case, which when opened revealed four large drums (parachute cloth or animal skin stretched over a wooden frame) and a box of drum sticks.

Jimmy and his teenage grandsons, Chad and Justin, each picked up a drum and spritzed a little water on the drum skin to moisten it. Then, exchanging only a word or two, they began to drum and sing and the dance began. (Below: Jimmy and Laura's livingroom is full and alive.)

Drums of the Central Arctic are different from those to the east and west. They are a bit wider and you do not strike the skin directly, but rather the underside of the frame. I assume that the songs and dances are all similar in content; they are about things of importance to the daily life of the Inu like chores, hunting, seasons, and animals. Traditional drum dancing is something that brings those who know how to do it all over the world to various events and gatherings from embassy openings to conferences of indigenous peoples. (Below: Jimmy, Chad, and Justin Memogana beat out a song.)

I think I was expecting a more “traditional” drum dance with costumes and, I don’t know, more ceremony; but what we were presented with was even better in many ways. When it comes to aboriginal traditions, many of us so-called “educated” people from outside of the community are still extremely ignorant, because we still have those historical photos of aboriginal ancestors from our history textbooks etched in our mind as not just the way things were, but the way they still are. The truth is that these communities are about as far from those photos as we are from photos from when our grandparents were kids. The massive machine of American pop-culture leaves no community with access to television or the Internet untouched. Even the kids of a remote hamlet like Ulukhaktok are looking to NBA players and pop stars for their fashion and ambitions. The disconnect between tradition in some places is greater than others, but in the places we’ve been to, the movement to reconnect the youth with the old ways is growing strong. (Below: Some drum, some dance, some sing, some watch, and some just suck their thumbs. There were four generations in that living room.)

This is not to say that people are trying to return to a fully traditional life. As many aboriginal leaders and elders have observed during the Mackenzie Gas Pipeline hearings, there is little chance that their people will ever return to the land and live as their ancestors; that time is gone. However, the need for the younger generation to be connected to and knowledgeable of their roots and traditions is essential. Sadly, this has only become clear after the damage of such well intentioned initiatives like residential schools and the settling of people on reservations has already been done. Canadian aboriginal people are playing catch-up in the game to retain their cultural heritage. (Below: Chad Memogana, in his late teens, was not only the strongest drummer and singer, but also an emotive and powerful dancer. Also, the only male to dance.)

The dance at Jimmy and Laura’s may have been informal, but what makes it special is that we weren’t just seeing a dance put on for tourists or dignitaries; we were witnessing the passing on of tradition. Jimmy, was saving his voice because of his cold, but would pipe in if ever his grandsons forgot the words to a song. Most of the women knew the dances, but sometimes they had to watch others before they remembered the moves. Some of the younger children were not experienced at all. They would watch and try to mimic the moves of their friends. Traditions like drum dancing and singing cannot be learned about or passed on through books, only through practice. It was a privilege to be present for it. (Below: On the couch with Jimmy, Chad and Justin is artist Roberta Memogana. Justin is smiling because he let one rip in the middle of the song!)

Ulukhaktok, known until recently as Holman, is world famous for it's art. The artist's co-op there was once an integral part of the relationship between local artistans (carvers, painters, and printmakers) and buyers from down south and around the world. However, several years ago the co-op had to close because of financial problems, compounded by an executive director who ran off with over half a million dollars worth of art. Today the co-op seems to be not much more than a glorified gift shop that sells some very beautiful prints and carvings alongside of the sort of hoaky things you would expect to find in any tourist trap. It caters to the few visitors who fly into Ulukhaktok and the rare cruise ship that makes the town of 450 people an exotic port of call.

That said, the artistic community in town appears to be going just as strong as ever. These days, most of these artists connect directly to buyers over the Internet or through galleries and agents in the cities.

We popped into the co-op just to have a look at what was there, and also because we had heard from Joe, the current executive director, that he had uncovered some of the engraved stone tablets that were used in some of prints made when the co-op was first starting out.

The place was empty aside from one person, who told us that she was the only employee. Have to say it was a little depressing to walk around the facilities which seemed like they would provide a great workshop for artists and yet they are now hardly ever used.

The bright spot was seeing the engraved tablets. Below are some photos of them, though I appologize for their quality.

This one was my favorite, it shows a scene typical to life in an igloo. There is one person ducking to come in the door; there are clothes drying; people are sitting around, playing games, and cutting meat; and you can see an ulu and an oil lamp.
I guess I should mention that most of these are made of soapstone. The process of using stone to make the prints is still used a bit, however they are no longer made on seal skin as they were originally. Much of the work is now done using silk screen and stencils made of Mylar.

This woman doesn't look to happy, perhaps she is combing her hair after not washing it for a week? I empathize, my hair is the longest it has ever been, and when it is dirty it is just a tangled mess. Regardless, she doesn't appear to be enjoying the process.
If you are interested in learning more about Holman art, I suggest checking out the Winnipeg Art Gallery's contribution to the Virtual Museum of Canada which is all about Holman art.

Upon arriving in Ulukhaktok, Dan and I were given a ride from the airport to town by the local Royal Canadian Mounted Police detachment. I was excited because it was my first time in the back of a cruiser, but as you can see it isn’t an ideal spot to take photos from.

West of the bay where the town is lie the so-called “three hills”: old and worn out piles of rock from which you can get the best view of town and out to the open ocean.

This is the old Anglican Church that lies in the centre of town. It's pretty derelict now, but sometimes nothing looks nicer then an old weather-beaten building whose paint is cracked and stripping and whose shingles are falling off.
Not too long ago, Ulukhaktok's residents used dog teams as their main mode of transport during the long winter months. Now, only three dog teams remain in town. Everyone else uses the snowmobiles. This particular team, located in the centre of town, belongs to a well known polar bear hunter Pat Ekpakohak. With spring in the air, and not enough snow on the land, or thick ice on the water, all they can do is sit on the shore where they are chained, and wait to be fed. When we loaded up the sledge to go out to Mashuyuk, they thought they were going to get to run, and they were yelping with urgent anticipation - poor things! However, they are not cuddly dogs, most sled dogs only respect the person or people who trained them, or feed them, if you're anyone else you'd best steer clear.

A polar bear skin hung out to dry at another house in town. There are many people in town who hunt polar bears, and several of them, like Pat, are hired out by hunters who come up, usually from the United States, to bag one for themselves. A pretty expensive endeavor.

Did you hear about the American who came up here to shoot a bear, and ended up shooting a half polar, half grizzly bear? They were calling it a "grizzlor" in the news. Anyway, there was some confusion because as the bear was a hybrid the Canadian authorities wouldn't allow the it over the border because the American had a tag for a polar bear, not a grizzly. The hunter was pretty miffed because he had spent something like $50,000 to do the deed. Eventually, he did get it back. It's good to know that there are some bears that are taking their dwindling numbers to heart, and doing something about it - i.e. procreating. However, there is some concern by people who think this is indicative of global warming as the grizzly bears' rage is coming further north, while the thick sea ice that the polar bear call's home is also disappearing.

These are some shots from our last day out at Mashuyuk. The wind was howling and though the air was neither damp nor cold, exposed skin was quickly made numb by it as it snatched whatever warmth there was. The sun was behind heavy clouds that we could see were releasing snow or sleet around where we were, but not on us. Even on such a day as this, it was hard not to enjoy the surroundings.

The day before, the owners of a cabin behind us on the point had been out fishing. In the morning when we woke up, they were gone, but they had left their fish (lake trout) out to dry. The plastic bags at the ends of the rack were, I guess, to act as scarecrows.

Not in the frame was a bucket that seemed to be filled with perfectly good fish, yet just left aside. Though everyone always hails aboriginal North Americans as being stewards of the land who waste nothing, I think nowadays, with the influence of the disposable consumer cultures of the south, it's not uncommon to find people within that circle who no longer follow the old ways and are more likely to waste.

Below is an example of a modern, homemade snow-sledge which the people tow their gear behind their snowmobiles in. The runners and struts are made of lumber, while the box is usually built out of plywood and lined with a caribou or some other kind of hide. On the bottom of the runners strips of steel are fixed to help it glide more easily.

This is looking north-east from the top of the plateau on Holman Island. The cabin is on the very thin point in the middle of the channel about a thrid into the frame from the left.

Looking south towards the mainland and across the Arctic Ocean you can see a rain/snow shower happening out over the fragments of the sea ice that float in the calm waters.

If I was an old arm chair, I think it would be nice to come out here to disintegrate too.