Museum, curated into an exhibition by a visiting Dutch anthropologist, Nicole Stucken - berger. It was especially the anorak, the extremely light piece made from seal intestines that impressed me. From a distance it looked like a new creation of Japanese haute couture artist Issey Miyake, transparent, almost lucent as from an inner light that just refracted the light from around it. This garment, thinner than a space age material and almost weightless, would mean the boundary between life and death for the hunter in his kayak at sea. The Inuit women scrape and wash the intestines, blow them up with air they breathe, hang these intestinal balloons to dry in the Arctic sun and wind, cut them into strips, then wet them again and glue the strips together into this ancient “survival kit” parka. Through this parka I came closer to climate change than in any session. The Hood Museum is one of these fine university museums that light up, and enlighten, even the most culturally impoverished town in the United States. Thin Ice was the name of the exhibition and the book (University Press of New England). When the ice grows thinner, so narrow the conditions of life for hunters and fishermen of the Arctic. Stuckenberger makes the voice of climate speak through the exquisitely crafted artefacts. A seal paw with its claws carefully tied to a wooden rod allows the hunter, hidden in seal skin, to draw himself forward on the ice and silently approach his prey. Most wonderful are the miniature models of kayaks with crew. Icons for a life form that risks being washed into the sea with the deluge that we are all responsible for - although with unequal shares. I have rarely seen the tragedy of the climate dilemma exposed so movingly and convincingly. My sentiment further deepens when I hear a lecture by Igor Krupnik at the Smithsonian Institution. He talks about Inuit elders who for decades have seen signs of a warmer climate.