Arts Incubator and Land Lab News

Weaving Time's Depths

Jamie Bell May 1, 2025

Uncover non-linear narrative magic. Weave time, craft suspense with flashbacks, and engage readers in your story's past.

Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow This virtual exhibition, inspired by the "Our People, Our Climate," program showcases Tony Eetak's photographs of Nunavut, providing a unique Inuit perspective on the environmental shifts affecting his homeland.

This virtual exhibition, inspired by the "Our People, Our Climate," program showcases Tony Eetak's photographs of Nunavut, providing a unique Inuit perspective on the environmental shifts affecting his homeland.

Shifting Horizons: Edges of Ice and Snow

Art Borups Corners May 1, 2025

WINNIPEG, MANITOBA -- Inuit youth photographer Tony Eetak is using his lens to capture the changing Arctic...

Light for the Sleeping 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.

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.

Light for the Sleeping

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

Weathered crosses rise from snowdrifts like prayers etched into wind, quietly watching the horizon. This is not...

Whispers on the Ice 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.

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.

Whispers on the Ice

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

The ice stretches out forever, meeting the sky in a blur of white and blue.

Where the Snow Meets Our Homes 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.

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.

Where the Snow Meets Our Homes

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

This is where we live. Our homes, nestled in the snow.

Sun on a Frozen Land 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.

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.

Sun on a Frozen Land

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

Sun and ice. We stand here, on the edge of forever. Where does the light lead us?

My Arctic Street 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.

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.

My Arctic Street

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

This road, it's our everyday path. We walk it, we drive it. It connects us.

Tread Marks on Thinning Ice 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.

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.

Tread Marks on Thinning Ice

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

Rubber and frost meet, right here. Where have we been? Where are we going? That horizon...

Barrel Horizon 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.

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.

Barrel Horizon

Tony Eetak May 1, 2025

Oil heats our homes, but it also represents a cycle that’s melting the ground beneath us.

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 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.