During the most recent iteration of Greenland’s esteemed annual Suialaa Arts Festival, the city of Nuuk played host to a remarkable installation: the "Sámi Embassy" (Láávustallan). This multifaceted work transcends conventional definitions, embodying contemporary public installation art, the masterful elevation of traditional craftsmanship, and a powerful demonstration of Indigenous diplomacy in action. Through this profound creation, Beaska Niillas of Sápmi offers a compelling vision of how deeply rooted ancestral foundations can serve as springboards for forging new tools and fostering alliances among nations.
For Niillas, the traditional and contemporary art forms of the Sámi people hold immense value, extending far beyond their aesthetic and artisanal merits. He views them as a tangible language, a conduit through which lineage is transmitted in a concrete form, thereby playing a crucial role in ensuring the survival and continuity of his community. Niillas’s own career trajectory vividly illustrates this duality, a journey that spans from the heat of the blacksmith’s forge in his home village of Deatnu to the deliberative halls of the Sámi Parliament. Whether he is representing his people on the global stage at the United Nations, at international art festivals, or even on the silver screen, his life and work serve as a potent reminder—and a vibrant celebration—that the tools and practices of his ancestors remain indispensable to Sápmi’s self-determined political future.
Cristina Verán, an international Indigenous Peoples-focused researcher and mediamaker, engaged in an in-depth conversation with Beaska Niillas in Nuuk, exploring the intricate ways in which the roles of maker and leader often converge and inform one another in his life.
The Genesis of a Maker: From Village Forge to Sámi Craftsmanship
Beaska Niillas’s artistic journey began with a childhood aspiration. "I’d always dreamed, since I was 10 years old or so, about becoming someone who makes duodji—traditional things, like handicrafts," he shared, explaining that the term "duodji" has evolved to encompass the broader spectrum of Sámi arts today.
The initial spark of inspiration came from his close proximity to master craftspeople in his community. "My neighbor in our village, an Elder named Ingvald, was a master craftsman and a big inspiration for me," Niillas recounted. "People like him in small Sámi villages are very practical; they make the tools and things we need ourselves. From the first time I visited his workshop, I thought, ‘Ooh, I want to learn this.’" This early fascination was further fueled by family legacy. "I’d already heard many stories about my great-grandfather, a skilled blacksmith whose traditional knives were famous, and that legacy also inspired me to learn blacksmithing," he added.
Niillas pursued formal training at prominent Sámi educational institutions: the Sámi Joatkka ja Boazodoalloskuvla in Guovdageaidnu and the Sámij Áhpadusguovdásj in Johkamohkki, both situated on the Norwegian side of Sápmi. His dedication to mastering traditional crafts led him to Jokkmokk, on the Swedish side of Sápmi, where he completed a two-year apprenticeship under a renowned duodji master. Following this intensive training, Niillas dedicated many years to his craft as a duojár, a maker of duodji.
Economic Realities and Artistic Ambitions
The pursuit of traditional arts often involves a delicate balance between cultural preservation and economic necessity. When asked about his initial motivations, Niillas acknowledged the practical considerations. "I wanted to make things that would sell well, of course; I needed money to live on," he stated. His early ventures focused on producing highly sought-after traditional items, including Sámi knives and guksi (wooden cups crafted from birch burs).
His ambition extended to mastering a wide array of ancestral crafts. "I continued learning how to make almost every other tool and craft of my ancestors—but there is still one thing I haven’t yet done: build a traditional Sámi boat," Niillas revealed.
The Craft of the Sámi Boat: A Monumental Undertaking
The construction of a traditional Sámi boat represents a significant undertaking, demanding specialized knowledge and resources. Niillas elaborated on the intricate process: "Sámi boats have traditionally been constructed with wooden frames and planks that we would craft ourselves, covered in animal hides." He explained the specific challenges and material choices involved. "While those of a reindeer can work, they aren’t quite strong enough for the task. It’s believed that our ancestors used moose hide instead; because the animal is much larger, it is easier to produce the large, durable pieces needed for a vessel of that size."
Innovation within Tradition: The Art of Exchange
Niillas’s artistic practice is characterized by a dynamic approach, blending reverence for tradition with a spirit of innovation. "I really like to experiment; for example, using old materials to make new things, or reimagining old things by incorporating new materials—including those that I’ll exchange with other Indigenous peoples I meet," he explained. This practice of material exchange is deeply rooted in Sámi history. "In Canada, for example, I was once gifted a mammoth tooth—for which I traded a reindeer antler from Sápmi. Our communities have always been trading and sharing materials and ideas like this."
Furthermore, Niillas actively seeks to integrate materials from other Indigenous cultures into his Sámi-style creations, and vice-versa. "I’ll ask other Indigenous artists for permission to make a version of something from their art or craft practices, but using my own materials that are traditional for Sámi, instead," he noted. This approach underscores his commitment to "consensual exchange," a stark contrast to exploitative practices.
Combating Cultural Appropriation and Upholding Authenticity
The issue of cultural appropriation, particularly within the context of tourism in Sápmi, is a significant concern for Niillas. He drew a clear distinction between respectful exchange and detrimental appropriation. "In Norway, fortunately, that’s not so common, but the type and the level of appropriation are particularly bad on the Finnish side of the border," he observed. "A lot of entrepreneurs there just want to take from and exploit our Sámi culture without permission. Not only do they counterfeit and touristify almost every type of Sámi craft, but what they produce is ugly and of poor quality. Then when visitors see such things, they get a bad—and wrong—impression of Sámi culture and craftsmanship."
To safeguard the integrity of Sámi artistic heritage, a crucial initiative has been implemented. "Fortunately, we now have a Sámi Duodji trademark—used across all of Sápmi—so that a person wanting to buy something authentic, made by our communities, can be sure it’s the real deal," Niillas stated, referring to the trademark designed to guarantee the origin and authenticity of genuine Sámi duodji.
Addressing Historical Injustices and Systemic Racism
The disrespect faced by the Sámi people extends beyond the appropriation of their crafts to encompass a deeply ingrained history of racism. Niillas spoke candidly about past societal attitudes. "There is a deep history of racism against our Peoples throughout Scandinavia. It was once—and not so long ago—very popular (for non-Sámi) to dress up in costumes and pretend they were drunk Sámi, acting foolish; treating such mockery as entertainment," he shared. He drew a powerful parallel to the pain experienced by other marginalized groups: "To us, it is comparable to what we imagine African-Americans must feel about blackface."
The Intertwined Paths of Art and Politics
Niillas’s life’s work is a testament to the interconnectedness of seemingly disparate fields. His artistic practice has naturally evolved to encompass significant political roles and endeavors. "My life’s project, in every realm that my work touches, is to preserve and revitalize Sámi culture—which includes our language, our crafts, our philosophy, and our skills," he explained. He clarified that while his art and politics are not explicitly separate, the foundational values of his political work are deeply rooted in his artistry. "The western world wants to separate everything; you’re either this or you’re that. In an Indigenous worldview, however, everything is connected."
A Journey into Political Activism
Niillas’s immersion in the political arena was not an immediate pursuit. "I didn’t really care about politics or know much about our Sámi political parties until I was nearly 30 years old," he admitted. A pivotal moment occurred when, working as a translator, he attended a conference where the President of the Sámi Parliament delivered a speech. "As I listened to what he was saying, I thought to myself, ‘I would have spoken differently, were I in that position. Hmm… maybe I should participate in these things!’ Thereafter, I did."
Service in Sámi Governance and Advocacy
Over the years, Beaska Niillas has held a variety of influential positions. He served as a Member of the Sámi Parliament for 12 years. He described this body as a "western style of parliamentarianism (state-recognized, with a democratically elected body), grounded in Indigenous values," distinguishing it from traditional forms of governance.
Currently, he contributes his expertise as a deputy member of the Saami Council, a non-governmental organization representing Sámi people across Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia. He also serves as vice chair of the Norwegian Sámi Association (NSR), his primary NGO.
Prioritizing Land Rights and Combating Extractive Industries
A central focus of Niillas’s advocacy work has been the defense of Sámi lands. "Much of my time has gone to land-defending because, without land, we will lose our culture," he stated with conviction. He highlighted the diminishing land base available to the Sámi people, despite their historical presence and connection to these territories.
He is also a vocal opponent of extractive industries operating within Sámi territories. "I’m also committed to fighting extractive industries in our territories," he declared. Niillas expressed growing disappointment with Norway’s policies, particularly concerning resource extraction. "Norway—which likes to portray itself as one of ‘the good guys’ with regard to Indigenous Peoples—is getting worse and worse on this issue," he observed. He lamented that despite legal recourse, meaningful change remains elusive. "When Sámi bring our concerns to the Supreme Court, they ignore us. Even when we actually win a case there, that doesn’t force any real change. I feel like the Norwegian government showed Sámi more respect in the past. Now? They don’t even try."
The Arts as a Platform for Education and Resistance
Niillas has effectively leveraged the arts as a powerful medium to raise awareness and educate the public about critical issues and the historical narratives that underpin them. "Well, in the last decade or so, I started writing poetry as a way to help cope with a lot of things," he shared. His involvement in film and theater has also been instrumental. "I’ve also been acting in movies and in theater—including projects with a political focus."
He cited specific examples that illuminate Sámi struggles. The film The Kautokeino Rebellion (Guovdageainnu Stuimmit) recounts a significant historical Sámi resistance movement in 1852. Another film, Let the River Flow (Ellos Eatnu – La Elva Leve), depicts the impactful conflict surrounding the construction of a hydroelectric dam on the Alta River, a struggle that ultimately led to the establishment of the Sámi Parliament.
Niillas noted a striking parallel between historical events and contemporary activism. "In a kind of crazy parallel reality, we took the same actions in real life back in 2021, during our resistance against Nussir ASA (a copper mine planning to destroy reindeer grazing lands and the Riehpovuotna Fjord) and the already existing Fosen wind turbines (which have destroyed critical pastures and scared our herds away)." These actions underscore the ongoing fight for land and cultural preservation.
The Sámi Embassy: A Symbol of Indigenous Diplomacy
The "Sámi Embassy" project, which served as a central gathering point and focal installation across from the Katuaq Cultural Centre in Nuuk during the Suialaa Arts Festival, represents a masterful synthesis of Niillas’s artistic and political endeavors. The inspiration for this innovative concept emerged during a previous visit to Greenland. "I’ve been to Greenland many times, and I remember, during a prior visit, walking by an embassy from another country down one of the main streets in the capital, and passing. That’s when the idea popped up: Sápmi really should have an embassy here, too," he explained.
This idea is rooted in a long history of collaboration and kinship between Indigenous peoples. "Inuit and Sámi have long worked together—like sister Peoples—on a political level, an art level, and a personal level, too," Niillas emphasized.
Reclaiming Pre-Colonial Diplomatic Traditions
The concept of an "embassy" inherently evokes statecraft. Niillas explored the Sámi’s own rich history of diplomatic engagement prior to the establishment of modern Scandinavian states. "Before those states claimed dominion over our lands, Sámi had our own kind of diplomats who engaged in trade and treaty-based diplomacy with others we encountered, from the early czars of Russia to the Vikings," he stated. He underscored the importance of these historical relationships: "Without diplomacy between us, things could have otherwise been really bad. That history, of always striving to be in relationship with our neighbors, is the grounding for this Sámi Embassy project."
The Lavvu: A Mobile Diplomatic and Artistic Space
The physical form and design of the Sámi Embassy installation were carefully considered to serve both political and artistic functions. "I considered doing this specifically as a political activation, but then decided it should be an art project, too," Niillas explained. The core mission was to create a structure that embodied Sámi values and facilitated nation-to-nation dialogue.
"The mission became this: to create a mobile embassy structure that would be easy to set up and take down, from the philosophy that one should leave the land as one finds it," he elaborated. "Instead of some fixed office space, then, I thought it should have our own Sámi style of structure—a lávvu—in which our Peoples can meet, nation to nation."
The design of the lávvu itself is symbolic. "The canvas cover of the structure is designed in two detachable halves: one painted in the colors of the Sámi flag and the other in those of the Greenlandic flag," Niillas detailed. This collaborative design facilitated a tangible representation of the partnership. Upon the festival’s conclusion, a symbolic gesture was made: "When the festival came to an end, I left the Greenlandic half and the lávvu poles behind and packed up the Sámi piece to bring back home. Now, whenever Greenlanders come on official visits to Sápmi, they can bring their piece to reunite it with ours and recreate the embassy all over again."
Indigenous Protocols and Sovereignty
Niillas addressed the complex political landscape of Greenland, acknowledging Denmark’s role in foreign relations. However, he asserted the primacy of Indigenous protocols. "To be clear, I did not—and would never—go to Denmark for ‘permission’ to be here," he stated firmly. "Instead, a different protocol is required: to seek and receive permission not only from the Indigenous Peoples to whom the land the Embassy will sit on belongs, but from the land itself." This emphasis highlights a fundamental aspect of Indigenous sovereignty, prioritizing consent from the land and its original stewards.
The Sámi Lavvu: A Sacred and Familiar Space Abroad
Niillas has prior experience transporting and inhabiting lávvut in various locations, including North America. He described the profound experience of establishing a Sámi space in unfamiliar territories. "Wherever you put it up, it feels like home, even in the center of a big city," he shared. "Once you close its entryway, you are in a very safe space, and the sounds of the world fade away. Of course, to be truly comfortable in it, as I’ve noted, requires consent from the land."
"Birget": The Essence of Sámi Resilience
In reflecting on the enduring value of the Sámi language in the context of his people’s struggles and future, Niillas highlighted the profound concept of "birget." " ‘Birget’ is a word and concept in my culture that’s very important to me, and difficult to translate exactly," he explained. He elaborated on its multifaceted meaning: "It relates to how we should live in this world; how to survive and thrive in it, with resilience and self-sufficiency."
Niillas acknowledged the inherent challenges of this pursuit in the Arctic environment. "That’s not easy to do in Sápmi, given its arctic climate and landscape." His own upbringing provided a direct connection to this vital concept. "I was fortunate enough to have been raised by my grandparents, on our land and with their values, in effect, jumping one generation back—learning about birget directly from my grandfather," he shared. This deep connection to ancestral knowledge and the principles of "birget" fuels his hope for future generations. "I’m really privileged to have had that all passed on to me, and I hope to do the same for the generations to follow."
