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Traveling north with the last hunters

Philippe GESLIN | Greenland

This flag of Greenland to say the gradual obliteration of the ice floe.

Say the continuity of the worlds. As ethnologist each of my travels is a new beginning, an almost stubbornness. Taking time, as a sensitive, curious and demanding vagabond. To unfold the territories of beings and things, to reveal the backstage, to follow the meanders, to restore the sensible, the harmless. In these distant lands, it is in the imperceptible and the tenuous that we seize the universe. A look closer to the one I am living with like here, in the heart of Greenland, at the confluence of the bays of Melville and Baffin. "Those of the big thumb," as they call themselves, are the last Inuit hunters. They still live to the rhythm of the seasons, the ice pack and the sea, the storms and the cold. They are looking for the presence of seals. Everything seems unresolved for these northern peoples. Daily mistreated. In this mineral world, we are resigned to the blows of oil, quotas and mines. Ruptures. They make louder the aesthetics of the pole.

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