Nalagtek (Spirits)

"Nalagtek (Spirits)" is a true and authentic bone carving by Kulusuk, Greenland based artist, Johan Kilime. NOTE: Unable to Export Ivory Internationally Tupaliq Mythology Among the myriad spirits interwoven into traditional Greenlandic Inuit cosmology, none inspired more fear than the tupilaq. Unlike the many benign or neutral spirits believed to reside in all things—animals, the land, the sea, and even the air itself—the tupilaq was an aberration, a malevolent force crafted for one sole purpose: to enact vengeance upon those who had committed a grave wrongdoing. Within Tunumiit society, where balance and justice were guided by spiritual law rather than earthly courts, a wronged individual could seek out the aid of an angakkok (shaman) or an ilisiitsoq (necromancer) to right the imbalance. If the claim of injustice was deemed valid, the spiritual practitioner would undertake the perilous task of creating a tupilaq. The construction of a tupilaq was a dark ritual, demanding both material components and potent incantations. Organic matter was gathered—bones of humans or animals, hair, sinew, and sometimes pieces of wood or cloth belonging to the intended victim. These materials, laden with their own spiritual energy, were bound together into a crude, uncanny form. The process had to be performed in secrecy, often near water, as the angakkok chanted powerful words, calling forth an ancient, otherworldly force to animate the entity. The ritual was not without risk; it was believed that once it began to take form, the tupilaq gained power by feeding directly from the genitals of its creator1—a perilous transaction that could result in the shaman’s own demise if not conducted with utmost caution. Unlike spirits that naturally permeated Inuit existence, the tupilaq was an unnatural being, a thing of pure malice that did not belong in the ordinary world. It had to be conjured for a singular act—to track, torment, and ultimately destroy the intended target. In some accounts, the tupilaq took on physical form, a terrifying beast that could stalk the tundra or glide unseen through the waters, while in others, it existed purely as a spiritual entity, a curse that wormed its way into the victim’s mind and body, bringing madness or death. But the act of summoning such a creature carried profound dangers. If the intended victim was spiritually stronger or possessed knowledge of counter-magic, they could send the tupilaq back upon its maker, turning the hunter into the hunted. Once the deed was done, the tupilaq did not linger. It was not a permanent fixture of the spirit world but a temporary agent of destruction, dissolving back into nothingness once its purpose was fulfilled. And yet, the knowledge of its existence haunted communities, ensuring that acts of injustice were never taken lightly—for the specter of retribution, faceless and relentless, always loomed just beyond the edge of the visible world. Sources: Bodil Kaalund, The Art of Greenland: Sculpture, Crafts, Painting (English and Danish Edition) (Los Angeles: University of California ress, 1984, 89. Inuit Art Quarterly, Sheila Romalis ‘From Ancient Material to New Visions’ 15 Mar 2018, 22.