France Pinczon du Sel and Éric Brossier – Part II: The art of sharing
In contact with researchers who came to live with them to study the pack ice, the two partners have imbibed a scientific culture that they strive to pass on to interested Inuit and southerners alike.
During their 12 wintering trips, the crew of “Vagabond” never ceased to measure the thickness of the pack ice, arousing the interest of the locals with their skidoo maneuvers. “Sometimes, we did it with them,” recalls Éric Brossier.
Satellites are not always accurate when it comes to estimating the exact thickness of pack ice, especially when it only takes a few centimetres for it to give way under the weight of a snowmobile or skier.
“In the straits, for example, the current weakens the ice underneath. The danger is always present, even for locals who know the places to avoid,” explains Éric Brossier.
Over the last ten years or so, Nunavut villages have been working more closely with scientists from Canadian universities to carry out their own measurements. The results are published in town halls and storefronts.
The quality of the relationships that France Pinczon du Sel and Éric Brossier have created and maintained with their hosts in the Arctic has earned them the trust of scientists.
Between 2013 and 2016, the GreenEdge program, whose aim was to study phytoplankton blooms under the ice in spring, entrusted them with the mission of setting up a scientific camp next to the village of Qikiqtarjuaq.
A ton of equipment and a year to take measurements and gain the trust of the locals, who didn’t express much interest in science in the first place.
“The local people didn’t see the point at first, wondering ‘why do researchers want to warm up the climate here?'” explains Éric Brossier. Twenty or so scientists were to arrive twelve months later to expand the experiments.
France Pinczon du Sel, Éric Brossier and their two children have forged a relationship of mutual interest and exchange. The village school’s science laboratory was little used, and when GreenEdge expanded, an agreement was reached to use it. Its transformation into a research laboratory also benefited the school’s pupils.
In Canada, the inclusion of Inuit in all matters concerning their territory is an issue of the utmost importance. Village elders were placed on the same level as the scientists to contribute knowledge, and other Inuit participated in the logistics.
During GreenEdge, France Pinczon du Sel remembers thinking, “We’re looking at the ice pack from every angle: how it’s changing, the effect of climate… and what if we had an artistic eye?”
She’s been drawing for as long as she can remember, without “ever imagining making a living from it.” The artistic approach remains omnipresent, however, if only in the choice of settings that feed her inspiration and that of others.
“I see Eric setting up a buoy with the girls helping him. I try different angles, I think it’s fun to film, we’ve always had a camera,” she explains, recalling one of the many pieces of advice from their filmmaker friends. “Don’t move with your camera, do still shots.”
Often, when documentaries are made about them, some of the footage is of their own making. “Those taken in another season,” says France Pinczon du Sel. “We’re aware that we’ve been lucky enough to choose this life and that we’ve seen things that others haven’t.”
She decided to launch an artistic residency to document the scientific work carried out at Greenedge and reach out to those who might not have a Cartesian mindset. “I selected Christian Morel from Grenoble, who was able to talk about the ice pack and the relationship between Inuit and their environment,” she recalls.
“In the end, things went well,” recalls Éric Brossier. In 2025, a permanent scientific station was inaugurated in Qikiqtarjuaq to continue the measurements, built by Université Laval, the Qikiqtani Inuit association and the municipality with Canadian funds. After 15 years of co-management between the village and the scientists, the commune will take full responsibility for the site. “It’s very satisfying,” confides Éric Brossier.
In 2021, back at Gris Fjord, Éric Brossier needed help and turned to his friend Terry, the hunter’s son. “I had my flasks and a water filtration system, and we didn’t bring back any food at the end of the day,” says the engineer. An outing without hunting, fishing or gathering is quite unusual in Inuit culture.
France Pinczon du Sel recalls: “A woman who held executive power in the village of Qikiqtarjuaq exclaimed during a discussion, ‘I’m in need of a seal’. She was in her office in stilettos, dreaming of a skidoo ride to one of the many vacation cabins.”
Despite the absence of game, Terry takes an interest and develops a taste for outings with Éric Brossier. He continued to carry out scientific experiments when the duo were away, before becoming fully autonomous. Today, he receives observation instruments and develops his own equipment, sleds and snowmobile for taking measurements.
“He doesn’t get paid any more than he would if he were guiding tourists or selling fish, he actually has a real interest in science. For me, it’s a real satisfaction to pass on the baton,” explains Éric Brossier. “It’s invaluable for scientists, it’s so far away and complicated to access.”
“When we talk about Jean Malaurie and Paul-Émile Victor, these are the people who activated polar fascinations in France,” explains France Pinczon du Sel. “A lot of Canadians don’t care about their Arctic side. Whereas we have nothing Arctic about us, but we’re not indifferent, it evokes something like beauty, it’s in the collective unconscious”.
Thanks
After meeting France Pinczon du Sel and Éric Brossier, I realized that they were both very humble people, despite what they had achieved, or perhaps because they had achieved it, or because of what they had achieved. On the ice floe, we sometimes don’t know whether we’re moving forward or it’s retreating.
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