POINT HOPE — Esther Clara Kingik Dirks, who goes by Clara, was 6 years old when she received her first sewing needle. "She would sew anything and everything she could get her hands on," her brother Henry Aulagrauk Koonook said.
Before long, Clara was exploring the sewing machine her mom, Angie Koonook, spent so much time using. "One time I sewed my thumb," Clara said. "Mom told me to leave it alone. But I wouldn't."
She perfected her sewing by making clothes for her dolls. "Mom would save me her scraps for making doll clothes," said Clara, now 57. "She would even get me scraps from her friends."
By the time Clara was in second grade, she had already made her first pair of bell-bottom jeans. "They didn't even last an hour," Clara said. "I was so happy and showing them off when they ripped down the middle!"
Clara's family is originally from Point Hope, a traditional whaling community of 700 on Alaska's North Slope. Like her ancestors before her, sewing for Clara is both a pastime and a necessity. Over the years, she learned how to make clothes, fancy fur parkas, hunting parkas and mukluks to clothe her family. Having the knowledge to sew all of these articles of clothing is a plus for the family whaling crew. Her dad, Luke Koonook Sr., started a whaling crew in 1975, and all whalers need warm and functional clothing. Men need warm fur parkas to help them endure waiting on the sea ice for hours — sometimes days — for the bowhead whales to migrate through. Women on the crew need fancy fur parkas and atigluks (kuspuks) for looking nice for the huge three-day whaling feast called Qagruk, which always happens in June if whales are caught.
But traditional skin sewing is a dying art in Point Hope.
"It's slowly dying," Henry said. "I was trying to think of who could sew the skins for the boat. I need 10 women and I could only think of seven. I thought about it for hours.
"Some of the reason why it's dying is because people not really wanting to learn. I'm trying to start on a caribou parky and hopefully somebody will see it and it will come back. I've been trying everything I can for the community. I've been inviting people to come; that's one way to learn."
Worsening arthritis
Few people these days know how to sew traditional fur parkas, usually made from squirrel, muskrat, wolverine or otter skins. One who does is Emma Aqimayuk Kinneeveauk, who grew up watching her grandma Emma Nashookpuk sew. "I was self-taught from watching," she said. "I would try to ask (Grandma) questions about sewing. My atiq (namesake Emma) said long ago, people can't ask questions, they just watch. I've watched my atiq since I was a little girl. I used to have a new parky every season."
Although Kinneeveauk grew up learning to sew, she never took an avid interest until later in life.
Similarly, Clara took her sewing to a different level when she started making dolls. These 1-foot-tall dolls are exquisite, with clothing that looks exactly like full-size garments, down to the trim on parkas and mukluks.
Over the years, the detail and tiny stitches required wreaked havoc on Clara's hands. On good days, she worked eight to nine hours. When arthritis worsened, she cut the time in half.
"It's better to keep going, to work through the pain," Clara said. "Otherwise it will get worse."
Since she was in her late 20s, Clara has made more than 100 dolls. It started as a means of extra income. Husband Bobby Dirks was a Boy Scout leader who would take children on camping trips. "I would make a doll to sell so the boys could have munchies," she said.
Back then, her dolls sold for $450-$600; today, they go for upwards of $1,250.
Earlier this year, Clara had the idea to make a whole whaling feast scene with dolls. "I wanted to buy a four-wheeler (with the money earned by selling the artwork)," Clara said. "But the more I worked on it, the more I wanted it to be in memory of Mom and Dad." She lost her mother in 2010 and her father earlier this year.
Over the years, her father, Luke, and mother, Angie Koonook, landed five bowheads, so the family had a big role in whaling feasts.
A dying art
Fellow Point Hope sewer Emma Aqimayuk Kinneeveauk also makes dolls, using wires to form the body and stuffing the cloth parkas with pillow batting. She and her husband Herb create their artwork as a team.
"While Herb was at college at UAF, he made a project for his Inupiaq art class. He asked me to sew," Emma said. "I never knew I could sew. I would rather stay up late trying to finish sewing than get sleep while going to college."
The couple has made numerous whaling scenes with their dolls.
Herb and Emma's artwork is featured in an Arctic Slope Regional Corp. building, and the Maniilaq Health Center in Kotzebue. And each beautiful piece mirrors traditions.
"Our ancestors were so advanced, how they came up with (the sewing patterns)," Clara said. "There's a book on how to sew parkas. They still sew in the same way."
Not only is skin sewing a dying art, the Inupiaq language is too. When the missionaries first came to Point Hope in the mid-1900s, the teachers only allowed English to be spoken. Children would get hit if they spoke Inupiaq. Most people grew ashamed to speak in their Native language, and a lot of history and language was lost during this time. Some of this generation chose not to teach their children the language.
Luckily, there are some who still speak Inupiaq fluently.
"I grew up in an Inupiaq-speaking home," said Emma, who is also the middle and high school bilingual teacher. "I want to be a big part of saving our language."
She's also preserving her culture by teaching students to sew warm mittens, dancing mittens and baby booties.
Just two clans
Point Hope is the oldest continuously inhabited region in North America. The village is in the perfect spot for a variety of animals to pass through, which is why the village survived. Long ago, thousands of people lived in the area, belonging to seven clans. Only two survive today. Community members are born into either the Qagmaqtuut or Unasiksikaaq clan. If a woman marries a man from the other clan, she becomes a member of her husband's clan.
If a whale is caught, most of it is divided among crews that reach the whale first, with portions saved for various celebrations throughout the year such as the Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts, first slush ice, and in the spring before whaling starts, the whaling feast.
Each clan has its own whaling feast site, on opposite sides of the square-shaped village. The first day is short. Whaling feasts always starts on Sunday after church services. Successful crews race their whaling skin boats to their respective feast sites. Each clan stays on their own side and passes out mikigaq (fermented whale meat) and maktak (whale skin with attached blubber) with whale blood, mixed together by hand. Homemade donuts, coffee, tea and cake accompany the delicacy.
The second day is a bit longer. Boats made of bearded sealskin are propped up and used as a wind block. The rest of the mikigaq and akutuq (melted caribou fat that is whipped to creamy consistency with either caribou meat chunks or berries stirred in) are distributed. While the women of the crews hand out food, the men cut the whale flipper into thin strips. Once finished, the whaling captain and his wife call out community members by name to come and collect. Once finished, the crew goes to the other whaling feast site and the same thing happens.
Day 3 is the longest. Women from each clan start cooking breakfast at 6 a.m. and cook into early afternoon. Two wind blocks are set up, one for the women cooking, and one behind it for the men. Once each crew finishes cooking, it's time for the blanket toss.
This is where the fancy fur parkas come in. Successful crews dress in their best and the men gather around the blanket, made of bearded sealskin, for the toss. Usually crew members take turns jumping on the blanket, which mimics a trampoline. Women who have given birth to a boy within the year must go on the blanket toss and while airborne they toss furs, sewing materials and candy to the elderly women below. This rite of passage enables the boys to become successful hunters.
That lasts much of the afternoon. Finally, everybody moves to the school gym to Eskimo dance and pass out the rest of the maktak and meat. Traditional Eskimo dancing continues well into the night.
Whale flipper tradition
Clara's doll scene captures Day 2. Most of her dolls represent some of her parents' whaling crew members. Luke and Angie are shown passing out whale flipper.
Before cellphones and VHFs became available, the way the whaling captain would tell his wife that they caught a whale would be through the flipper.
Complications could arise after a whale is struck. Sometimes it is lost. Sometimes it sinks.
Ideally, the crew would tow its whale to safe ice and immediately cut off the flipper. The whaling captain would take the flipper to his wife to let everyone know a whale had been caught.
Like Emma, Clara uses wire to form her dolls' body structure. After finishing the clothing, she stuffs them with quilt batting. Faces and hands are carved from whale bone. Some parkas are made of cloth while others are made from a variety of skins. Most pants are made of sealskin, and mukluks are made of sealskin.
Henry had a major role in the project. He carved the whaling skin boat the traditional way. Like his ancestors, he did not use any man-made materials, relying on pegs, not nails or screws.
Henry has also worked with his hands his whole life, specializing in ivory figurines, hunting scenes, baleen etchings, paintings, jewelry, boats and sleds. "As long as it's connected to our way of life," Henry said about his artwork. "It gives me a sense of direction with our land and animals."
Everything in the scene is authentic — down to the barrel of mikigaq, doughnuts, akutuq and whale flippers. Clara's parents are shown holding strips of whale flippers.
Behind Luke and Angie are some of their crew members. In front, the whaling boat is propped up as a wind block, as elders sit and eat the delicacies.
On both clan sites, whale bones are partially buried in the ground. In the middle of four sets of bones the blanket toss occurs. Most bones were beachcombed on a nearby beach known for its old artifacts, mammoth teeth and ivory that wash ashore after big storms.
Clara put in more than 150 hours working on the dolls.
"I would wake up at 5 a.m.," she said. "I would always wake up before everybody else and sew or carve. The details are time consuming. The mukluks were tough because I had to double up on them. I couldn't wait to be done with them."
Clara and Henry hope the whaling scene provides inspiration. "Thank God for giving us these hands to work with and share it with our people," Henry said. "This teaches us our customs and traditional values.
"Everything is slowly dying. We need to keep it alive."
Molly Maqpee Lane is a freelance writer who lives in Point Hope.