A retrospective is, typically, a gallery’s homage to an artist who needs no introduction. It is a format often reserved for artists that are on the verge of becoming household names─an afterglow of fame once brightly lit by accolades and notoriety. As such, retrospectives are increasingly a litmus test for artists whose oeuvre deserves to endure: there’s a retrospective on so-and-so, therefore so-and-so’s art matters. That’s why it’s noticeable when the subject of a retrospective shifts toward an artist who deserved more of the spotlight while they were alive. That’s exactly the ethos behind Gallery Arcturus’s exhibit dedicated to the late Toronto area artist, Floyd Kuptana.

Kuptana’s story is one of brilliance shadowed by hardship. Born in Cape Parry, Northwest Territories in 1964, he rose to prominence as an Inuit artist whose carvings and vividly painted scenes of Northern life found their way into galleries across Canada and beyond. Yet, despite his success, Kuptana battled profound inner turmoil and a fractured sense of belonging. Friends and colleagues recall his magnetic charm and self-destructive streak in equal measure—a man who, even in moments of recognition, seemed haunted by the feeling of being undeserving of love or acclaim. His art reflected the paradox of his life: playful and vibrant depictions of nature and mythology that carried undertones of pain and transformation. Described by critics as merging the uncanny with the spiritual, Kuptana’s sculptures and paintings stand as enduring testaments to his resilience and his refusal to let trauma extinguish his creative fire.

L: Floyd Kuptana in Studio. R: Art by Floyd Kuptana

When Kuptana died in May of 2021, Cannopy published a eulogy in Issue 6, written by Ines Tercan—a fellow artist who knew him personally. Excerpts from that eulogy provide of a glimpse of Kuptana’s time in Toronto:

“I met Floyd for the first time in St. Lawrence Market. I recognized him as I had seen his art before in the Art Gallery of Ontario. I was surprised to see he was going up to people and asking them for $20. I figured he was a successful and celebrated artist as I had heard he was the only living Inuit artist to have his work showing in the AGO. I felt compelled to talk to him. I gave him $20 and then asked him if he would like to join me for a coffee. He agreed and seemed to be quite happy to talk with someone. We had a nice conversation and I suggested that we go for lunch the next day. [...]

I realized that he had a hard life and many things happened to him. I am originally from Russia and didn’t know about the residential schools and the experience of First Nations children in Canada until it came up in the news. When the 215 children were found in a residential school in Kamloops it was a big shock for me. It went against my impression of Canada as a country. Floyd went to a residential school when he was younger, and he had also confided in me that he had suffered abuse in the correctional system as well.

Gallery Arcturus

Within this context I understood the contradictions that made up his personality. He was a brilliant artist, with a bright innocent looking face who never tried to capitalize on his gifts as an artist and created the art for the sake of it alone. On the other hand, he was wrestling with some deep trauma that had been inflicted on him, which had shaped his self-destructive behavior and prevented him from reaching his full potential as an artist.

It was really sad to see that he wasn’t able to overcome his struggles, but he left behind some of the most genuine and original works of art I’ve seen, in all my years in the art world. I think that his work should stand as a testament of his resistance to the forces that tried to erase his spirit and as a record of the existence of that spirit in the world during his lifetime.”

In this follow-up, we revisit his legacy through a conversation with Gallery Arcturus, after their major retrospective of his work this past summer.