Aviajaa and Arnaq - Mask Dancers

Aviajaa and Arnaq are sisters living in Sisimiut who practise uaajeerneq, Greenland’s mask dance and one of the Inuit people’s oldest dramatic traditions. Long before shows and cultural festivals, this dance served a practical and deeply psychological purpose in Arctic life.

“In the past, when elders were asked, ‘What do you fear most in life?’ they would answer, ‘the spirit world,’” says Aviaaja, recalling the lessons passed down to her. The Inuit belief system is based on animism, the understanding that nature is alive and filled with spirits, requiring humans to live in harmony with their surroundings to avoid misfortune.

Children were never shielded from fear. “Our ancestors taught children how to manage fear,” she continues, “so that when spirits appeared, they would not panic.” In the Arctic landscape where darkness dominates for half the year and polar bears roam, panic could be lethal.

Ancient teachings took shape in masks and movement. “That’s why, from early childhood, parents used to perform the mask dance for their children,” Aviaaja says.

In the past, Greenlandic mask dancers would craft their masks from driftwood and animal parts such as bone and fur, deliberately creating grotesque and comical figures. Today, face paint tends to replace carved masks, but the symbolism endures.

“Mask dancing is something with purpose,” Aviaaja explains as she begins to colour her face. “The red stands for life. And black for the spirit world. And white means respect for our ancestors.”

Aviaaja and Arnaq also place a wooden structure inside their mouths, contorting their faces into unfamiliar shapes that push the cheeks and lips outward. “We call this oqummiaq, made from wood,” they explain. “It makes it possible for the face to change. Nowhere else in the world has this.”

“There are three different performance styles: comical, sexual, and scary,” Aviaaja says. The dance moves fluidly between them; laughter might dissolve into discomfort; fear might be softened by playfulness. The audience is never allowed to settle.

As sisters, they share an intuitive sense of this balance. “We know how to work together – who will scare, who will comfort. For example, if we both try to scare, it would be too tiring. So, if one goes harder, the other can soften.”

At times, the dance becomes zoomorphic. “Sometimes we act like animals. I imitate the polar bear’s growl, or the fox’s sound,” Aviaaja says. Through mimicry, the boundary between human and animal begins to blur, echoing the traditional Inuit worldview in which people, animals, and nature are all interconnected; each possessing a kind of spirit or soul.

By performing together and in public, Aviaaja and Arnaq reveal themselves at their most vulnerable, demonstrating courage and inviting the audience to witness and share in that bravery. Like their ancestors, they teach through ritual, encouraging others to participate in the shared experience of human and cultural expression: “I feel I am carrying forward what my ancestors practised.”

In doing so, mask dancing continues to give shape and voice to Greenlandic Inuit identity. Uaajeerneq is an embodiment of culture itself; its untamed, transformative energy evokes something ancestral and mighty. As one sister reflects, “When I finish, I have a lump in my throat. It feels like something powerful has arrived.” In these moments, the dance reminds them – and the community – of who they are, where they come from, and how courage, creativity, and connection can keep culture alive