she gave me her name

mixed media acrylic paint, oil pastel and digital
2024

In a process of rekindling, my mother and I exchanged stories, photos, memories of a time no longer accessible to us. We spoke of our little cabin in ikkijasatsuk, a name I was too young to know. I do remember the boat rides though, the heave of the water. The moths that waltzed around the light as my mother read, the rock she played on as a kid.

She showed me a picture of my anansiak, my grandmother at the cabin with me. She said it was lit by oil lamps, and the photo reached out to me through the glow of Facebook messenger. A single thread of shimmering light tied me to that moment, to a woman I'll never know as a woman myself. I pictured myself looking at my own granddaughter like that in the future, and I wondered how her grandmother looked at her.

Although I don't remember her voice, I remember talking with her on the phone, asking her what certain words were in Inuktitut. I remember making bread with her, the roundness of the dough in my hands. I remember a warmth, a kindness. I do remember her face, but more than that I remember how she seemed like an angel.

This piece was a process of living in a memory again, and I'd like to share it with you.