Traditional Inupiaq seamstress Mary Lou Sours is remembered for her passion for craft, teaching and life

When Mary Lou Sours had her first grandson born, she decided to dress him head to toe in traditional regalia. When her first grandson was born, that’s when her passion for sewing was born, too.

A traditional seamstress, prominent snowmachine racer and the soul of her Northwest Alaska community, Sours died on Dec. 8 at age 50, after struggling with various health issues for several years, her daughter Alannah Jones said.

“She had a passion for sewing and sharing her knowledge. She knew very well that the tradition that she carried, it’s being forgotten nowadays,” Jones said. “When you’re raised in a community where your traditions are dying, one thing you want to do is try to help preserve those traditions.”

“This is a part of who we are: it is the fabric that makes an Inupiaq person Inupiaq. It’s everything from the clothes that we wear, to the food that we eat, to the way that we celebrate, and honor a baby being born, or a funeral, the way that we take care of our dead, to the way that we dance and sing and speak. Those are the very things that make us who we are,” said Patuk Glenn who has taken Sours’ class. “Learning, you know, this one area of making traditional boots — that is part of our culture, that’s a part of what can help make us whole.”

Sours taught maklak-making classes in Noatak, Kotzebue, Anchorage and many other communities, Jones said.

In 2013, she was making her first grandson, Ryder Jones-Short, a fur muskrat parka for the baby contest on the 4th of July in Kotzebue.

Three years later, Mary Lou Sours made regalia for her granddaughter named after her — Nevaeh Lynn Mary Tautuknaichauq Sours. Wearing her parka, maklaks and waterproof attikluks from Ingalauq, the dried and died seal intestines, Nevaeh Sours won the 2016 Grand Champion baby contest and on July 24, 2016. Her family also traveled to Fairbanks for World Eskimo Indian Olympics where Nevaeh Sours came in second and had a photo session with a painter, who did her portrait with all her regalia, Jones said.

“She inspired so many with the regalia she made for the baby contests, making sure that her grandchildren were dressed head to toe,” Jones said. Sewing for children in the family gives traditional seamstresses like Sours a reason to keep sewing and “gives inspiration to the next generation.”

Almost as soon as Sours started making clothing, she realized that there were not many people who know traditional sewing techniques, so she started teaching others as well. Her classes took off in popularity about five years ago, Jones said. Sours also received a grant from a First Alaskans Institute to teach her craft in villages.

“She wasn’t creating mukluks her whole life but once she started making them and learning them, she had the biggest heart to help and teach because it’s an art form that is not common among our Inupiaq people anymore,” said Patuk Glenn, who is an executive director of the Arctic Slope Community Foundation, as well as a media influencer sharing Inupiaq culture. “In our culture, we’re not greedy; we don’t hoard things for ourselves in any way. We share, we give. It was our Inupiaq way that she was carrying on even by teaching and giving that knowledge to share.”

Glenn was among the people attending November Sours’ last class on making Atuŋaks, or hard bottoms for maklaks. The classes ran over the course of two weeks, between three and five hours in the evenings. As a teacher, Sours was patient, kind and thoughtful, giving attention to every participant, Glenn said.

“She was soft-spoken but when she spoke, it was so clear and to the point,” she said. “There were times I was getting so frustrated. I wanted to give up but she was very encouraging, and also told us, ‘You can’t make these when you’re feeling negative.’”

Sours was born in Kotzebue, but after her biological parents Rudy Da’Pice and Daisy Sours, died, she moved to Noatak where she grew up in an adopted family, Dwight Arnold Sr. And Mary Arnold. With nine children and 10 grandchildren of her own, she had a very busy life at home, Jones said.

“My mom always had a full house. She was feeding a lot of children. She always took care of us,” Jones said. “She had very close bonds to all of us, that connection – not only with us but with a lot of people. She touched some of their hearts. There are not very many people like her out there.”

Sours’ children grew up traveling between Kotzebue and Noatak on a snowmachine, and eventually, Sours shared with them another of her passions – snowmachine racing. Her two sons became successful racers, Jones said.

“My mom, I think she got that adrenaline from watching her sons race,” Jones said. When Sours raced, she could compete with her sons, as well as other racers, who sometimes were two times younger than her. Still, she “gave them a run for their money.”

“Her passion for racing, it’s like fire. She’ll go 110% for her racing and her boys,” Jones said. “She had a lot of energy and a lot of power.”

Sours’ biological great-grandmother Lena Suuyuk Sours was a skilled well-known seamstress, and Sours inherited her sewing materials. But Sours did not learn the craft from her parents or grandparents. She sought help from traditional Kivalina seamstress Lucy Adams and other Elders in Northwest Alaska – but for the most part, she was self-taught.

“A lot of the knowledge that she had I felt like she already had it — like she carried it with her all along,” Jones said. “It’s passed on to us traditionally – I think it’s in our blood, you know?”

Sours and Jones came together to collaborate on maklaks for Jones’ daughter, Alyssa Marie Rock, who took second at the World Eskimo Indian Olympics 2021. Sours sew the white wolf maklaks with red-dyed hard bottoms, and Jones finished the beadwork on the top.

Sours started working on hard bottoms in Noatak, flew to Kotzebue with them and then finally brought them to Jones’ house in Anchorage. Jones and other family members drove from Anchorage to Fairbanks, and the work hasn’t stopped.

“We just worked endlessly from day to night,” she said. “I sew all the way on my drive from Anchorage to Fairbanks. … We were actually sewing till the very last minute of the pageant. We didn’t get things done until that very moment when she had to walk on stage.”

Jones was sending Sours photos of her granddaughter wearing her regalia on stage.

“I’ve never seen her more proud of her granddaughter walking on that stage,” she said.

Sours’ passion kindled Jones’ passion, inspiring her to keep sewing for her own family and to always perfect her work.

“In our tradition, that’s a very sacred feeling – to be able to sit down with your mother or grandmother and sew and work together. It’s like nothing you won’t be able to experience – a touching feeling, a grounding feeling,” she said. “It’s kind of like therapy, because of how healing it is.”