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7015-21-0023

The sky sings above those who sleep. The wind carries stories no longer spoken aloud. In this northern hush, every tilted cross is a line in a poem written by ancestors — not to be read, but to be felt. Nothing here is gone. Everything waits beneath snow, beneath stars, beneath the turning light.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Light for the Sleeping

Weathered crosses rise from snowdrifts like prayers etched into wind, quietly watching the horizon. This is not just a place of rest — it is…
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Ice and sky. A world without end. But the whispers on the wind, they tell a different story. A story of change, of melting, of a shifting world beneath our feet. This isn't just a view; it's our heritage, our future, stretched out before us, waiting to be understood.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Whispers on the Ice

The ice stretches out forever, meeting the sky in a blur of white and blue.
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Sky and snow, meeting our homes. A soft light touches everything. Familiar shapes, but a different feel in the air. The edge of our community, where the wild meets our lives. We watch, we remember, we see the subtle shifts in the world around our doors. This is our place, changing with the light.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Where the Snow Meets Our Homes

This is where we live. Our homes, nestled in the snow.
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Sun and ice. We stand here, on the edge of forever. Where does the light lead us? What will we find on the other side? That horizon... it's shifting, changing, like the world beneath our feet. This isn't just a view; it's our story, written in ice and light, waiting to be told.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Sun on a Frozen Land

Sun and ice. We stand here, on the edge of forever. Where does the light lead us?
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Snow and street. Our path, right here in town. Where does it lead? What will it look like tomorrow? The light on the snow, it tells a story. A story of change, even here, where we live. This isn't just a street; it's our future, covered in white, waiting to be seen.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

My Arctic Street

This road, it's our everyday path. We walk it, we drive it. It connects us.
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Rubber and frost meet, right here. Where have we been? Where are we going? That horizon... it's softer now, the light uncertain. Each mark on this tire, a story of the land. But the land is changing, breathing differently. I see it, we all do. This isn't just a view; it's the ground shifting beneath us, captured in a moment.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Tread Marks on Thinning Ice

Rubber and frost meet, right here. Where have we been? Where are we going? That horizon...
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A metal drum, dusted and fading, frames the edge of land and light. The sun breaks clean across an ice-locked horizon, distant yet grounding. Industrial memory sits in the foreground, silent but loaded. This is the balance: between use and loss, sky and surface, heat and cold, stillness and what is coming next.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Barrel Horizon

Oil heats our homes, but it also represents a cycle that’s melting the ground beneath us.
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Ice rises like fingers sculpted in a moment of thaw—sharp, delicate, reaching toward the low sun. In this blur of focus, what is foreground and what is memory? A crystallized tension sits between presence and erosion, the dirt and grains trapped inside as witness. Nothing here is still, though everything looks like it might be.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Edges of Ice

Ice rises like fingers sculpted in a moment of thaw—sharp, delicate, reaching toward the low sun. In this blur of focus, what is foreground and…
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Even in the heart of our community, winter's presence is felt. The school stands as a center of learning, surrounded by the enduring snow.
Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Through My Eyes: An Arctic Story

My photography is a reflection of the world I see, the world I'm growing up in, as an Inuit youth who grew up in Nunavut.
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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.
Bridges

The Bison

Tucked into the natural paths at The Forks, Education is the New Bison emerges like a quiet monument.
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This platform, our Winnipeg, Manitoba hub and programs have been made possible with support from the Manitoba Arts Council Indigenous 360 Program. We gratefully acknowledge their funding and support in making the work we do possible.

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