Baleen Scrimshaw as 16mm Film

Shoot in 16 mm film, capture her sitting under an olive-green archway. Loop the sound of steel striking glass. When you blink, the camera captures the frame of her kin, walking upside down. Loop the sound of tundra grass sprouting. Her hairline marks her shift        from caribou to woman. Standing in front of three white spotlights the silhouette of five black arrowheads departs from her lips. Splice together her eyelashes and frozen lids        exaggerate the strain of her freckles coiled into song. Inukshuks tumble from the tips of her fingernails guiding the landing strip for twin otters; they watch their children travel to the moon, or perhaps they erase our oiled webs. Chart sixteen luminaries into the Beaufort Sea. Wait.     Wait.        Wait. The shutter will remember their white crested etchings. They resurface in the lyric of your documentary.