Sara-Marie, couturière
Pour ce portrait, nous allons à la rencontre d’une couturière groenlandaise qui, à travers le travail du textile, perpétue les traditions du peuple Kalaallit de génération en génération.
Lecture de 1 min
Dernière mise à jour 12 avril 2026
Gardienne des traditions
« Cet art du tissu m’a été transmis, et je compte bien le transmettre à mon tour. » Dans un petit atelier de Nuuk, Sara-Marie est assise à une table couverte de tissus, de perles et de bobines de fil. Ses mains se déplacent avec précision, guidant l’aiguille dans le tissu, encore et encore, dans une sérénité sans pareille. Un geste appris il y a bien longtemps, en observant sa grand-mère : « Je me souviens très bien de son calme et de sa créativité », nous confie la couturière. Pour elle, la couture « vient de l’intérieur… ». C’est un savoir-faire acquis en observant sa grand-mère pendant de nombreuses années. « Je m’inspire de sa façon d’être, de sa minutie et de son amour du travail manuel. » Aujourd’hui, cela fait plus de 20 ans que Sara-Marie est couturière au Groenland. Elle est spécialisée dans la réparation du Kalaallisuut, la tenue traditionnelle des femmes groenlandaises.
Garments through Generations
A full kalaallisuut is made up of multiple pieces: the timmiaq, worn beneath a decorated anorak, paired with short sealskin trousers known as seeqqerngit, kamik boots, and the nuilarmiut, a beaded collar.
Every garment tells a story: of who made it, who wore it, and the occasions it has witnessed. “We place great importance on wearing kalaallisuut... for happy occasions and sad ones.” Weddings, funerals, when a child starts school – the same garments move through life’s milestones.
Binding Community through Craft
Sara-Marie recalls a moment when a young girl was about to start school without a nuilarmiut, a beaded collar that can contain around 20,000 little pearls and take up to 64 hours to complete. With little time to spare, family members gathered materials and worked together through the night to ensure the outfit was ready by morning.
“If anyone needs help, we quickly step up for each other, because ultimately we are one community.”
In Greenland, there is a word for this kind of shared responsibility: ataatsimoorneq. At its core, it means ‘togetherness’ or ‘unity.’ Sara-Marie describes ataatsimoorneq as a way Greenlandic culture is preserved through the practises that formed it: like hunting, dancing, storytelling, and for her, sewing.
“In the past, people lived collectively. If they were hunting, the food was shared among everyone. Ataatsimoorneq is very important to me because, ultimately, we are one community.”
In Sara-Marie’s workshop, that idea takes a practical form. A seam is reinforced, a pearl replaced, a garment returned to circulation. Through maintenance, the dress remains part of everyday life rather
than a symbol removed from use. “The more I understand it, the more I learn about old Greenlandic ways of life,” she says. “I feel proud to be able to do it.”
The Fabric of Identity
In the work of people like Sara-Marie, the values that have and continue to sustain Greenlandic communities become clear. Through ancestral sewing practises, each garment becomes a metaphor for weaving together past and present, connecting people to traditions and to one another. It’s a reminder that who we are is inseparable from the ways we come together, care for one another, and carry our heritage forward. “Kalaallisuut is very meaningful to us as people, in our identity as human beings. It already lives within us, in our hearts, that’s why it means so much.”
