Iqaluit (Aug 14/06) - Natchtook Pee shifts from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room of The Gallery restaurant from the foyer.

It's a Wednesday evening and the Iqaluit print-maker has a rolled-up piece of watercolour paper in hand. He unfurls it to reveal an image of an Inuk woman dressed in traditional garb and holding a drum.

Natchtook Pee was trying to sell this print in the lobby of The Gallery restaurant in Iqaluit on Aug. 9. He wanted $150 for it. Several other artists peddling their handiwork were present that evening, as they are practically every evening, trying to make a living. - Derek Neary/NNSL photo

Drawn in ink and charcoal, she's standing on a rocky shoreline with icebergs in the background, her pigtails blowing in the wind.

Pee approaches patrons in the eatery, trying to convince them to part with $150 - he'll settle for $140, he reveals - in exchange for the artwork.

Several people politely decline. The rejection is something Pee encounters countless times each day, but he carries on unfazed.

"I never give up. I never give up," he repeats, smiling in his denim jacket, jeans and ballcap.

The Gallery is only one of his many stops in a long day. Sometime's he up as early as 4 a.m. working on his drawings. The concepts come to him in his sleep, be it a kayak, a walrus a dogteam or a polar bear, he said.

By 9 a.m. or so, he hits the street, making the rounds to a number of businesses and workplaces in hopes of selling a print. Sometimes he goes without lunch, without coffee, doggedly trying to make a sale.

He said he usually finds one buyer each day.

"Of course, I'm a hard worker," he said, noting that he has four children and another one on the way with his girlfriend.

Although he claimed to be able to support his family through his art sales, he said he was leaving on a trawler the next day. Seasonal turbot fishing will earn him better money, he acknowledged. However, even though he'll be working 12-hour shifts on board the ship, he'll still set aside a couple of hours daily to work on more drawings.

At one point, Pee places his print on the floor and shakes his left hand, wincing from a shooting pain in his wrist. His frequent drawing over the past 34 years is causing him lingering discomfort, he explained. Asked if it will affect his ability to fish, he replies, "I've got Tylenol for the pain."

Over the course of half-an-hour, several other artists pass through the foyer of The Gallery.

Some carry carvings, others possess wall hangings or slippers. At the very least, Pee gives them a knowing nod of the head as they walk by. Sometimes they engage in brief Inuktitut conversation.

At the adjacent Storehouse bar, staff periodically tell the artisan vendors to move along, according to Pee.

"You have to listen," he said. "But here in the dining room it's okay."