There is no shortage of writing on the two masters who came to define the great tradition of Inuit polar bear sculpture: Pauta Saila (see Lot 39) and Henry Evaluardjuk. Their bears, however, could scarcely be more different in character. The so-called “Henry Bears” are typically shown prowling, sleek, and purposeful, their bodies stretched into forward motion. Pauta's bears, by contrast, are most often presented in the upright, animated poses that would eventually become known as “Dancing Bears.”

Henry occasionally departed from his characteristic prowling form to give the creatures a more human-like bearing [1], as he does in the present work. Here, rather than skulking low to the ground, this charming fellow rises into an upright, supremely balanced pose, its body assuming an almost anthropomorphic dancing stance that recalls the work of his great contemporary.

A shocking but delightfully small, monolithic base supports the bear on a single leg, while the other lifts clear of the ground, his long arms held in an expressive asymmetry, and his head cocked at a jaunty angle, scenting the air. There is an unexpected buoyancy to the pose, as though the great animal has momentarily slipped free of its own considerable weight.

While the pose has a distinctly more human inflection, the bear itself is quintessentially Henry. The heavy torso, powerful haunches and long, rounded limbs are true to the animal as Henry observed it, preserving its great weight and unmistakable physical presence despite the unexpected lightness of his pose.

1. Forgive the pun, I could not resist.

ND