|Paġlagivsi ' tun UiññiQ Ivory Studios|
Welcome to my artistic space!
My English name is Angela, and I am a proud mother of three beautiful children: Leon, Mia, and Mateo.
In Inupiat, my name is "UiññiQ," given by my mother in honor of Calvin Panigeo.
I was born in 1993 at the old Samuel Simmonds Memorial Hospital on a cold winter evening in Utqiagvik, Alaska. I am affiliated with the Native Village of Barrow, ASRC, and Bering Straits.
My mother, Francine Lee Hopson, is a revered Inupiat hunter and whaler from Unalakleet, Alaska. My father, Francis "Frank" Howard II Rochon, is from San Diego, California. My grandparents include Charles and Adeline Hopson from Barrow, Alaska, and Greg Rochon from Michigan and Clara Dela Cruz from the Philippines.
As an indigenous artist deeply rooted in my Inupiat heritage, I have sought to remain connected to my culture, which has been an integral part of my life. Growing up with a hunter and whaler for a mother, this was the world I knew best, aside from school. My first mentor in Inupiat art was my uncle, Ronald Brower. He taught me the fundamentals of creating traditional items such as caribou mittens, carving ivory, and working with baleen during my time at Hopson Middle School.
I am also grateful to Fannie Akpik, a beloved Aakas and Inupiat teacher, and to JJ Ningeok, who made learning Inupiat enjoyable during my time at Ipalook Elementary.
Life has taken me on many diverse paths. After graduating from Frank A. Dregnan High School in Unalakleet, Alaska, in a class of 12, I moved to Anchorage. There, I managed a Gogo dancing team in my late teens and early twenties and later worked at Alaska Airlines for a year. I then transitioned to the oil field at Kuparuk as a Safety Administrator and Nutaaq. In 2015, I settled in California, where I became a mother to Leon in August and to Mia in January 2018. While in California, I participated in Alzheimer's and Dementia studies and worked as a medication technician at a memory care facility.
In 2020, I moved to Oregon and worked as a Gang Intervention Outreach Specialist for the Native American Family and Youth Center, advocating for cross-cultural communities during the pandemic. I returned to Alaska in 2021 and spent two years at Alaska Legal Services as an Office Manager and Staff Support for the Bering Straits Region. During this time, I welcomed my youngest son, Mateo, in November 2021.
My goal is to preserve and promote our Inupiat culture through my art and teachings, passing down this rich heritage to my children. Identity is something I cherish deeply. As my mother always said, "No matter where you go, never forget where you came from." This wisdom brings to mind my school days at Ipalook Elementary, where the Native Values depicted on the walls continually reminded me of my upbringing and the foundation of who I am.
Thank you for visiting my studio and taking the time to read my story.
Quyanakpak (Thank You Very Much) for stopping by, and blessings to you!
My Childrens Inupiaq names & their meanings:
Leon; Masu: A root foraged from the tundra. When meat is scarce, we will dig these roots up and enjoy them with seal oil and tundra greens. I named my son after my childhood best friend/cousin Stephanie Hopson from Barrow, Alaska.
Mia;Tiipak: Means very "GIRLY." Which in itself, explains why I named my only daughter "Tiipak."
Mateo;Malik: Means "To follow." I gave this name to my son in rememberance of my childhood friend and cousin Alyssa Panigeo's little brother. I always loved the name and wanted to name one of my son's Malik.
Ancestry DNA
^^ Angela Hopson Kuyat ^^
The Iñupiaq People of Barrow, Alaska
The Iñupiaq, which translates into the “real people,” have been in Barrow, Alaska, for about 4,000 years. To survive in the harsh Arctic environment, the Iñupiaq developed a deep understanding of the area’s natural resources and how to make good use of them, and created a culture of cooperation and sharing.
Bowhead whale hunting was, and continues to be, important to the Iñupiaq culture—not just for the food it provides, but for the sense of community and cooperation it creates. The whales can weigh as much as 60 tons, which means they have to be hunted by groups of people working together with a whaling captain. When they kill a whale, the Iñupiaq thank it for giving its life to them, and the whole community shares in its bounty. Much of the equipment traditionally used by their ancestors, including a umiaq, or sealskin canoe, is still used today.
Contact with Europeans came in 1826, when two British men arrived and renamed the area Barrow (the Iñupiaq named it Ukpiagvik, “the place for hunting snowy owls”). By 1854, the first commercial whaling ships arrived at Barrow and trade began between the Iñupiat and European whalers. From 1852 to 1854 the British overwintered twice looking for a lost expedition. Shortly afterwards, the first commercial whaling ships arrived at Barrow and trade began between the Iñupiaq and whalers from the East Coast of the United States.
Trade and contact with the outside world changed the Iñupiaq way of life. They acquired new technology, including guns, which they incorporated into their traditional hunting methods. Missionaries arrived in the late 1800s, introducing western religion. Contact also exposed the Iñupiaq people to new diseases. As a result, the population declined until western medicine was introduced in the 1920s.
In the last fifty to one hundred years, the people of Barrow have seen rapid change. The North Slope is home to the largest oil reserve in the Arctic. The oil and gas industry has brought many new jobs to the area. Barrow is also part of the North Slope Borough, a large incorporated area established in 1972, which has also added government and private jobs as well as modern conveniences. Now, light is supplied by electricity instead of seal oil, for example, and dogsleds have been replaced by snowmobiles.
Today, 60 percent of the people in Barrow are Iñupiaq; 98 percent of the people in the other seven North Slope villages are also Iñupiaq. While much has changed, many traditions remain. The Iñupiaq continue to do subsistence whaling and other hunting, for cultural as well as practical reasons (food is very expensive there and hunted food is much healthier than store-bought). Many Iñupiats work part time to accommodate their subsistence way of life, and some jobs are structured so they can take “subsistence leave.” With climate change looming, however, the Iñupiaq people are now in danger of losing their major food sources as well as some of their traditional ways of life.
