excerpt
There’s a song that goes, ‘How do you know where you’re going when
you don’t know where you’ve been?’ There is a lot to that. I recall being
a spellbound boy as my imagination built ships and sailed across the
Arctic seas with these fierce warriors. I imagined the hardships that
befell them, and the battles that were waged until Rurik was named as
leader of the rival clans. I can still feel the thrill when my grandfather
told me, “You are descended from that man. Remember that always.”
The lessons contained in his storytelling have had a lasting impact on
me.
In my painting and in my life, I’ve acquired a reputation as a
warrior myself, but the title of this book ’Warrior Painter’ came out of
a painting of Rurik with my face. This painting started as a prank, but it
keeps me in touch with my family history, dating back many centuries.
After Isumataq and the political activity accompanying the formation
of Nunavut, various admiring people felt there should be some public
recognition for Ken’s decades of effort. They didn’t understand that he
shunned such acknowledgement in part because, as he says, “I don’t drink
my own bathwater!” However, the deeper reason was because, “too many
white guys with green eyes made promises that resulted in tragedy over the
years.”
His promise to the Inuit grandmother was to do the best he could to
inform the people of Canada of the desperate situation of the Arctic peoples;
that had been successfully accomplished, and that was sufficient reward in
Ken’s view.
There was, however, a persistent underground movement determined
that at the least there should be a painting of Ken hung in a prominent place.
The idea tickled his fancy. The prankster came to life. Ken knew of an
artist who would be able to do what he wanted. He offered Toronto painter,
Rose Mihalyi the commission. He had photographs of the larger-than-life
Russian sculpture of Rurik and people often marvelled at the strong family
resemblance. He provided these to the artist, explaining he had a joke in
mind, and instructed that he must be dressed in similar armour and posed
standing with one hand on the shield and the other on the hilt of his sword,
just as the photograph showed. He wanted a stormy sky behind, and there
was to be a tiny Inukshuk in a snowy landscape in the corner.
Libros Libertad 