Following the threads of a family’s stories
Walker then weaved wool dyed in the gorse, kanuka, harakeke, lupin and tanekaha through the strands.
‘‘This is the whatu that whaea has been teaching as I’ve been learning. That’s not a tradition that has been passed down. I’m just learning, so every row took an hour.’’
All of the fabrics used in her work are found or passed down to her. In embodying my roots, skin and leaves
she has used vintage and woollen blankets.
‘‘My dad said you haven’t cut up Nanna’s good blankets have you? I hadn’t. So they’ve all had another life beforehand.’’
The works in her latest exhibition she does not see as finished.
‘‘They are ongoing. They can be quite labour intensive in the moment but then stretch out over time as well.’’
One of those works is the blanket she hand knitted in the Print o’ da Wave Shetland lace pattern. The wool was hand spun while Walker and her partner’s sister talked.
‘‘We have Shetland heritage too. It’s a beautiful pattern that references the sea as these other works do, by being from the coast.
‘‘I was interested in this idea of lace and seeing if it could become something useful. Hence the title If I knit enough lace into blankets we can keep warm for generations.’’
Creating in conversation is also important to Walker.
‘‘That is how textile practices have always been, people, particularly women, sitting around in a space, sharing stories and conversation while making.’’
Alongside her textiles, Walker is showing a short film, shot by Emily Parr, featuring first soft light of the rising sun fluttering on the beach and her poetry being read.
‘‘It’s not that I don’t think the works can stand alone but I wanted to tell the stories of the plants I was using, so there is a longer spoken version which plays with the silk work, but there are a few shorter parts I like to give to people.’’
While not convinced her writing is poetry, that is what she is calling it for the exhibition. She has always been around storytelling and had not realised until a few years ago that what she was writing was poetry.
‘‘I’ve always been a bit more nervous about the words than the making. All my ancestors come from storytelling traditions so poetry ties into that.
‘‘I don’t think of myself as a poet.’’ She feels that she has been given so much to be able to do the work that she likes to give something back to those who visit.
‘‘These are little poem pieces that tell some of the stories behind the plants used. The full poem goes through almost all of the plants that have been used with a focus that they are healing plants.’’
A lot of her practice has been trying to reconcile and to heal what Walker sometimes feels is quite a fragmented whakapapa.
‘‘There are sometimes tensions between the different strands between Pakeha and Maori and what that means. By talking about the plants they almost started becoming able to be metaphor for ways of navigating through things.’’
She also emphasises that none of the works in the exhibition come solely from her.
‘‘When I was first learning to whatu I was saying, ‘‘wow, I’m really good at this’’, and then I started messing it up massively and I thought ‘‘it’s not me doing this’’. It’s those generations before me working through me.’’
Being able to exhibit the works at Blue Oyster is a dream come true for Walker.
‘‘I have always wanted to exhibit here. I’ve followed their programme . . . It always seemed like a space that made exciting work and supported artists in projects.’’
While she had not visited Dunedin before, when her latest body of work started coming together, Blue Oyster was the only gallery she applied to.
‘‘It’s the only one I wanted to be in. It’s been really interesting learning more about the Taranaki connection here, which I have to admit I hadn’t really known about at all.’’
❛ It’s those generations before me working through
me