Showing posts with label Frederica de Laguna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frederica de Laguna. Show all posts

Monday, 8 February 2010

Atuagagdliutit – Colourful News

The history of printing in Greenland is short: the printing press was only introduced by the Danish in the nineteenth century.

One of the earliest publications was Atuagagdliutit, a newspaper established by Dr Hans Rink in 1861. Rink, a distinguished Danish geographer, was concerned about the vulnerable status of Greenlandic culture under Danish rule. Atuagagdliutit was edited by a Greenlander, Rasmus Bertelsen, and attempted to give Greenlanders responsibility for developing an independent cultural awareness. News of Australian gold mines and Danish foreign policy was interspersed with the tales of the Arabian nights, dare-devil hunting exploits, and Inuit legends.

Since many ‘readers’ were illiterate, the newspaper prioritised illustration. It numbers among the world’s earliest illustrated newspapers, and the very first to feature colour images. While there are some lively wood cuts, lithographs predominate, at first hand-coloured and later printed in colour. Some illustrations were provided by the tireless printer, Lars Møller, who also edited the paper from 1874 until 1921. Many more images were created by Aron of Kangeq, an artist held in great esteem in Greenland, and sadly little known elsewhere.

With its mix of news and whimsy, Atuagagdliutit is perhaps most akin in spirit to the contemporary blog. While the illustrations are astonishing, the production alone should be considered a huge achievement. The printing office was ill-equipped and atmospheric conditions made the processes even more complex than were usual in the period. Ink behaves temperamentally in cold conditions. The printing required dampened paper, but in winter the water in the paper would freeze. In addition, the translation of official texts from Danish to Greenlandic caused challenges as Greenlandic, with its highly specialised vocabulary, had few terms to express the complexities of Danish government and European fashion. Even the paper’s title is a neologism meaning ‘distributed reading matter’ or ‘free newspaper’.

Despite these challenges Atuagagdliutit was issued monthly, although only distributed once a year to the most distant settlements. Copies were passed around until they fell apart, illustrations were torn out and used to decorate homes, and the text pages were frequently used as plugs in muzzle loading guns. The anthropologist Frederica de Laguna’s account of her experiences in Umannaq in the 1920s may give another clue to the destination of many of these artfully printed pages:

‘The W.C. was the usual type of wooden outhouse… for toilet paper, there were some numbers of a Greenland magazine. I snitched a few pages. It was printed in Eskimo, and contained a poem, news from the east coast, two historical articles, and one about Nero and Agrippina (how funny it was to see these Roman names with Eskimo prefixes and suffixes) …’

Very few examples of this extraordinary publication survive.

Thursday, 4 February 2010

The Right Tools


I’ve come north equipped with pencils and pens, an assortment of notebooks from many kind friends, and - at the other extreme - a laptop. Between scribbling and typing, I have almost everything I need to work. I could pretend petulance about the frugal internet access, but in truth the isolation is welcome.

So I was amused to read Frederica de Laguna’s account of her sea voyage to Upernavik in 1929 as a young anthropology student accompanying Therkel Mathiassen on the first archaeological survey of Greenland. The excursion has more than a slight flavour of Swallows and Amazons about it, as when ‘Freddy’ describes trying to translate Mathiassen’s article ‘The Question of the Origin of Eskimo Culture’ for American Anthropologist during a heavy swell:

Mathiassen dictates to me, and holds down the typewriter with one hand. The rolling of the ship has made the machine seasick. If it is set crosswise to the roll, every time the boat heaves over, the carriage flies up and shifts into capitals. If the machine is set parallel to the rolling, the carriage sometimes has to go up so steep a hill that it balks. So I have to wait until the ship is leaning over to starboard and then type furiously to make up for lost time, before she begins to swing over onto her other side. And with one hand I grab the typewriter and the edge of the table. It has been interesting work.