Reconfiguring Greenlandic History: Interview with Film Photographer Inuuteq Storch

There is a widely undocumented part of Greenland's history that photographer Inuuteq Storch wants to explore and exhibit. When the country was occupied, settlers took countless photographs of native Greenlandic people. These images alone became photographic historical documentation of the story of the Greenlandic population.

By chance, Inuuteq discovered the work of John Møller, the first known Greenlandic photographer, whose archives are full of photographs he took of settlers during Greenland's occupation. Working with Møller’s archives, his own family albums, and found film, Inuuteq's ongoing archival project is a true reconfiguration of Greenlandic history and legacy; exemplifying the significance of a story told by its own people.

Hi Inuuteq, do you think you could start by telling us a bit about yourself and how you got started with film photography?

Yes, my name is Inuuteq Storch, I’m from Greenland. I ended up using film photography in New York when I was there. Previously I was already into film, but I [only decided] to work [exclusively] with film when I was in New York. Probably because it was more accessible, and I prefer film. You know, in New York it’s much easier than in Greenland to get film.

What inspires you to create the work you do?

I’ve always been creative. Even with Lego, I used to have robotic Legos and I was [always] making things with them. At one point I told my mum - Mum, you don’t need to bring the plates to the table anymore - I got this! But I was really into sports as well, and I played guitar. I used to draw and paint, but I’m not really good at that. But yes, I’ve always been creative.

I don’t know, mostly when I take photos of people, it’s the connection with people [that inspires me]. The relationship between people. And the relationship between people and nature. Being from Greenland, nature is very important. We still go hunting, and we have at least two freezers at home, for reindeer, fish, shrimp, all the different things we can get. There’s a lot of that too.

When was the first time you picked up a camera? Do you remember that?

My mum has amazing family photos. I used to take her camera and she’d be like, "no no no no!" She [said] I’d take crooked photos. Then, around the house, I would find my father’s old cameras, a Nikon F3 and a Yashica Mat 124. And I was not allowed to touch them. I could look at them for a few minutes but [my parents] would be like, "you’re not allowed to play with them!" So there has always been a fascination with photography since I was young. Most people were taking family photos in the 90s here in Greenland, and when I got older I was a skater boy, with my friends. I was not the best one, so I used to be the one who took photos of my friends. So I was kind of forced to take photos and I got good at it! I just kept on going.

Your archival project is centred around Greenland history and identity, from a Greenlandic perspective. Could you tell us a bit more about the origin of that project? How did you become interested in the history of your home?

Well, it’s a very complicated story. Our country is colonial. And a lot of the systems are made to forget ourselves, at least from my perspective. When I finally moved out, I understood how important it is to be from Greenland, and to call yourself a Greenlandic person. At some point, photography and identity connected and formed this way of working on that issue. Working with archives started when I was hanging out with my friend who works in a dumpster. He ended up finding films and when I finally saw what the photographs were, I understood I don’t need to take the photos by myself, I can actually use other people’s photos. And that opened up the archive project.

The photos I inherited from my parents and grandparents, they are printed as family albums. But I had to digitalise John Møller’s photos, the very first Greenlandic photographer. I had to digitalise them by myself. There are 3000 photos, so it took a lot of repetitive work, a lot of eye time.

Working from old photographs or negatives feels like writing a translation. You know, when someone translates a book, it’s an art in itself, but based on something original. It ties into the identity aspect of your work - with language, you have Greenlandic and Danish. So there’s these strange relationships: archival, personal; Greenlandic, Danish.

Yes, it’s a very complicated thing. I’m very grateful that there is documentation of our history, but they are Danish. A lot of the photos we usually see from our history are from foreigners’ eyes. If you think about the Western way of living and the Arctic way of living, they are very very different. If [you and I] go somewhere, and the next day we talk about it, I think we would end up with very different [stories]. That’s how I see a lot of the documentation of our history.

There are a lot of layers of history in this ongoing project. There’s the individual history, the local, and the national. Has doing this project given you any new perspectives on any of those levels in particular?

Yeah, definitely. The [photos] I found in the dumpster are [from] one generation older than me. Like, only a few years older than me. I was born in ‘89 and I think the person was born in ‘86. The photos are from around the end of the 90s and the beginning of the 2000s. Those people in the photos, being a little bit older than me, had different things going on, but not only [because of] age but also social class. Then, those from my parents are also very different because in Greenland, our development has been very fast. So it’s very difficult for me to imagine or understand how life was when my parents were young. Even more difficult with my grandparents. So working on these, it helped quite a lot, understanding. And it was even more crazy when I started working on John Møller’s photos. It was very exciting, my brain was working a lot during that project.

Do you think that’s influenced the personal photography projects that you’ve been working on since starting the archive?

You can actually see the relationship between the archive photos and the photos I took. You can definitely see. It’s very cool. I’m a nerd, I love a lot of music, but I know a lot of photographers as well. I always became a fanboy at archives. John Møller was such a perfectionist person, everything is in harmony in his photos. I was very ‘snapshotty’ [before], but during this time of taking photos, when I started working on John’s archive, you can actually see more harmonic photos. It’s a work I haven’t shown yet, but it’s going to be a book in the future. When it comes out, you can definitely see how I was working with John Møller’s photos, which are very correct and very harmonic.

When you’re taking your own photographs, what is it that attracts you? What are you looking for?

It is usually based on my feelings. There are a lot of reflections of what’s going on in my life, and how I feel. Basically, my feelings and identity. Very everyday stuff. I’m good at showing everyday things.

That’s true, a lot of your personal photography feels very spontaneous. Do you know specifically what you want when you start a new project? Or do you collect things as you go?

It depends on what fascinates me. I figured out that I prefer specific places for different projects. So I have a project from here, my hometown, I have a project from New York. . . so I locate projects according to what it means to me. The New York project has a lot to do with being home in my soul and feeling homesick in my body. There is a lot of being, too, in Flesh. And when I went back home, I took a lot of photos. Back then, I usually took photos of people I don’t know. But it’s a small town, and I have a group of friends that I’ve been friends with since I was a teenager, and I spend time with them. In the beginning it was very difficult for me to take photos of my friends. My idea was to take photos of people from my hometown, but naturally I ended up taking photos of people around me. That’s being home, for me. The people I know.

I was looking at your project Flesh, which emerged from the stark contrast between New York, this huge, crazy city, and your hometown, which is completely immersed in the natural world. The two are so different, and yet you created this feeling that they’re both home in some kind of way. What does home really mean to you?

I actually take home everywhere I go. I travelled so much that I have a group of friends [wherever I go]. It’s kind of cursed to travel all the time. I miss people, I miss places, and I miss food. I wanted to travel a lot when I was younger, and I ended up travelling a lot, missing people, places, food, different vibes. It’s a lot of missing. But in a good way; it’s not a sad thing. Home means a lot. Home means being with people you know, home means being in a house you really love. I really love my father’s house. I [grew] up here, and I love taking care of this house.

Does being away and missing home give you more of a desire to go and photograph it and capture the feeling you missed?

Sometimes it does. I’ve also experienced going to a specific place that I’ve been very fascinated about, but didn’t enjoy it. But luckily I took good photos there! I spent a lot of time in bed. When I finally went out, because I [was spending] so much time at home - I took good photos because I felt that I was late. So every time I went out, I needed to take several good photos. It’s not a smooth [path]. It’s like, oh my goodness, I’m here for work! I have to take photos now!

I am based here [in Sisimiut], and usually this mountain [outside my window] becomes more neutral when I’ve been here for long enough. When I haven’t been here for a long time, it seems taller. I’ll look at it and be like, oh my God, this mountain is so beautiful, it’s so tall! But after some time, it becomes just a natural thing. I can measure how much I’ve missed my hometown by looking at the mountain.

I watched another interview that you did, and you mentioned this spirituality and connection to nature that’s born into Greenlandic people. Does that influence your photography at all, or the way you approach nature in your work?

I never liked nature photography. It’s too easy. I usually took photos of people. But when I was in East Greenland I became a nature photographer! That’s another project again, that’s going to come out at some point. But about spirituality - my next book, which is coming out in January, it’s about spirituality, and how we have lost it. Its name is Necromancer. It’s going to be a very beautiful book, we are planning on printing it differently. We’re like, oh my goodness, this is a good idea! But it’s quite post-apocalyptic, and it’s really about wanting to reconnect with the spiritual world. Greenlandic people are very, very connected to the spiritual world, and I feel like we have lost that. And I felt that during the Corona times, we could be benefitting from the spiritual world.

Coming back to your archival work, do you feel that there is something in those photographs that Greenlandic people have now lost, this spiritual connection?

Not necessarily. We are just less aware of being spiritual. We’re just less appreciative and less aware of how much we are spiritual - we usually make it a scary thing now, instead of a helping thing. There’s definitely some transition that has happened, we just need to adjust that and say, this is our strong side, instead of being scared.

You spoke about John Møller, and the process of going through his archives and digitalising them. Did you feel like he was somehow guiding you through this project?

It was actually him that found me. I went to a museum with a friend, a very very good friend [of mine] since I was fourteen or fifteen. I usually call him my spiritual helper. We wanted to check out some very old instruments from his great grandfather, and I ended up in the archive where John Møller’s photos were kept. So, I was like, oh, cool! I’d already been doing some archive projects at this point and I was like, oh my goodness! There’s a photographer who actually took photos of the people that came to Greenland! Usually it’s the other way around. At first I only saw about eighty or ninety photos of those people that came to Greenland. Then I worked with the archive and figured out there’s about eight hundred photos of people who came, and about one hundred and fifty of them are really good photographs.

You have a real variety of different film stocks in your work. Your new project Necromancer is very high contrast black and white, very gritty. And sometimes you work in colour. Do you intentionally decide which is better for each project?

I usually use three different cameras now. One for 35 mm colour, one 120 positive film and one 120 black and white. They have their own systems and they are very different - one is very easy, one is more complicated, one is like, oh my goodness, why do I use it?! I usually shoot way too high with black and white, because the viewfinder doesn’t really show exactly where it is. I don’t really like cropping photos, so - even though I know I need to go further away, when I take a photo I’m the exact distance away that I want to be! So I usually shoot way higher than I expect.

The black and white 120 is a very old Zeiss Ikon, from the 40s. A very charming camera that I got from my ex-girlfriend. She bought it in a second hand store, very cheap and very beautiful. 120 positive is the Yashica Mat 124, the one my father used to have. Then point-and-shoot 35 mm, everything automatic. I got that from a very good friend of mine, one of my best friends.

There’s so much connection between the historical element of your archival project and the actual cameras you use. You’re carrying around small parts of your individual history with you. The cameras are like homes themselves. Did that just feel natural, to use these cameras you received from loved ones?

Yes, it’s a very natural thing. Also, I’m very curious. I recently told myself not to buy cameras in the second hand store anymore - I’ve also inherited my uncle’s cameras. There are way too many cameras that I don’t use, they’re just collecting dust. My mum and dad got divorced, so I took care of the house, making it comfortable again, and at some point I just thought, oh my goodness, I have too many cameras here, I’m never going to buy something again! But then I feel like, oh my goodness, this camera is so good! And buy it. But [the three I have] have their own functionality that really work. I don’t need to introduce another learning of another camera. This is very comfortable and it’s very effective.

One last question - do you have any projects coming up that you’d like to share?

I have Necromancer coming up in January. It’s black and white photos, and we are figuring out if we can print white ink onto black. That’s very cool. So the whole book could be black. I’m very excited about that! I can’t wait to see it.

We'd like to thank Inuuteq for sharing his work and insights with us! To view more of his work, check out his website and follow him on Instagram.

written by emiliee on 2024-01-10 #people #places #nature #history #family #home #archive #greenland #scandinavia #spirituality #inuuteq-storch #john-moller