Tony Eetak

Tony Eetak is an emerging artist, musician and culture connector from Arviat, Nunavut, now exploring the arts in Winnipeg, Manitoba. A founding member of the Art Borups Corners, Tony has a demonstrated passion for photography, music, composition, and visual arts. With over five years of experience as a dedicated volunteer, collaborator and co-funder of several arts projects, Tony has been involved in various participatory arts events through organizations like the Arviat Film Society, Global Dignity Canada, Inclusion in Northern Research, and Our People, Our Climate. His contributions earned him recognition as a National Role Model by Global Dignity Canada in 2023. His work has been supported by the Canada Council for the Arts, Manitoba Arts Council and the OpenAI Researcher Access Program.

After the Bark The tree dreams in textures now. Bark has been replaced by memory. Weathered lines recall the touch of wind, the breath of moss, the quiet tension between collapse and stillness. This is not death, but the long, slow rehearsal for return — to soil, to silence, to something shapeless yet whole.

The tree dreams in textures now. Bark has been replaced by memory. Weathered lines recall the touch of wind, the breath of moss, the quiet tension between collapse and stillness. This is not death, but the long, slow rehearsal for return — to soil, to silence, to something shapeless yet whole.

After the Bark

Tony Eetak April 11, 2025

The tree dreams in textures now. Bark has been replaced by memory. Weathered lines recall the touch...

Manitoba Wild Rice Risotto with Sautéed Mushrooms and Truffle Oil For this week's AI Food Prompt series recipe and image, we present a luxurious Manitoba wild rice risotto, combined with sautéed mushrooms and finished with a hint of truffle oil.

For this week's AI Food Prompt series recipe and image, we present a luxurious Manitoba wild rice risotto, combined with sautéed mushrooms and finished with a hint of truffle oil.

Manitoba Wild Rice Risotto with Sautéed Mushrooms and Truffle Oil

Tony Eetak April 11, 2025

Indulge in this week’s AI Food Prompt Friday recipe and image with Manitoba wild rice risotto and...

Waiting at the Water’s Edge Mud pulls at your feet, the river hums under closed bridges, and the air thickens with thawed-out memory. Between branches and broken trails, a stillness opens—where water dreams upward, steel waits without speaking, and the season writes itself in soft collisions.

Mud pulls at your feet, the river hums under closed bridges, and the air thickens with thawed-out memory. Between branches and broken trails, a stillness opens—where water dreams upward, steel waits without speaking, and the season writes itself in soft collisions.

Waiting at the Water’s Edge

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

In spring, the river swells with memory. Ice pulls back, revealing thick ribbons of mud and trails...

The Bison

Among bare branches and snow-laced silence, the book-buffalo waits—pages frozen in time, wisdom stacked into muscle and memory. It is not sculpture, but spellwork. It holds what we forgot we carried: story, survival, and the soft hoofbeats of future paths.

The Bison

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

Tucked into the natural paths at The Forks, Education is the New Bison emerges like a quiet monument.

The Quiet Rows Empty seats in a lecture hall echo with memory—fragments of thought, laughter, doubt, discovery. Education isn’t confined to presence; it resonates in absence. These still rows are archives of energy, holding the quiet hum of voices that changed everything. Most of us never make it here.

Empty seats in a lecture hall echo with memory—fragments of thought, laughter, doubt, discovery. Education isn’t confined to presence; it resonates in absence. These still rows are archives of energy, holding the quiet hum of voices that changed everything. Most of us never make it here.

The Quiet Rows

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

At the University of Winnipeg, that idea lives in the space itself. It’s not just a school;...

Carved in Stone Winnipeg’s stonework hums in chisel tongues—glyphs of frostbitten dreams etched in sediment and soot. Faces emerge, not seen but sensed, eroded into myth by wind and waiting. Carvings press silence into permanence, where granite listens and limestone weeps. Each groove a memory. Each building, a slow exhale of forgotten hands.

Winnipeg’s stonework hums in chisel tongues—glyphs of frostbitten dreams etched in sediment and soot. Faces emerge, not seen but sensed, eroded into myth by wind and waiting. Carvings press silence into permanence, where granite listens and limestone weeps. Each groove a memory. Each building, a slow exhale of forgotten hands.

Carved in Stone

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

All over the Forks—tucked near the riverbanks, beside trails, or half-buried in grass—you’ll find carvings.

Bridges: The Forks Beneath the rusted lattice of the old rail bridges near the Forks, time bends—steel bones whispering histories into the wind, footsteps echoing between memory and motion. The river moves slow and thick below, like thought unspoken, while overhead the iron arches cradle sky and silence.

Beneath the rusted lattice of the old rail bridges near the Forks, time bends—steel bones whispering histories into the wind, footsteps echoing between memory and motion. The river moves slow and thick below, like thought unspoken, while overhead the iron arches cradle sky and silence.

Bridges: The Forks

Tony Eetak April 7, 2025

There’s something sacred about walking through The Forks in Winnipeg, especially when winter hasn’t quite let go....

Where the Sky Fell Sideways The sky folded under the weight of something forgotten. The buildings stay still not because they want to, but because they’ve been asked to remember a world that no longer runs upright. What if time shifted its axis, and only snow noticed?

The sky folded under the weight of something forgotten. The buildings stay still not because they want to, but because they’ve been asked to remember a world that no longer runs upright. What if time shifted its axis, and only snow noticed?

Where the Sky Fell Sideways

Tony Eetak April 4, 2025

The sun didn’t rise. It drifted. Everything else followed—snow, buildings, memory. Now we live sideways.

Above the Silence The sky above the Arctic doesn’t shout. It murmurs. These clouds are not weather — they are memory in motion, frost turned to breath, breath returned to sky. Look too long and you forget where you end and the sky begins. Up here, nothing is separate. Everything floats.