How te ao M¯aori has helped bring ‘backyard’ NZ to the Big Apple
Landscape artist Tama Whiting was inspired by his grandfather. Now he’s working on diversifying spaces in one of the largest cities in the world. Lucy Revill reports.
One of Tama Whiting’s earliest memories is, aged five, standing with his grandfather at the 1998 opening of the colourful Te Hono ki Hawaiki in Te Papa and cutting the ribbon with Sir Peter Blake.
Tama’s grandfather
Cliff Whiting ONZM, an influential contemporary artist would tell Tama and his sister, Kimi, myths and legends to share knowledge of te ao Ma¯ori. ‘‘He taught us that the first fish you catch, you throw back to Tangaroa. It’s a good way to respect others and your environment.’’
Inspired by his grandfather, who contributed significantly to the development of art education through his art advisory work for the Department of Education, which saw the introduction of Ma¯ ori art in schools, Tama Whiting followed in his footsteps. Now, while Kiwis flood back into New Zealand, Tama is hungry for another bite at the Big Apple. The landscape artist is vying for a special visa that will see him stay in New York City, having moved there in 2018 without so much as a job.
After attending Wellington College and then working on superyachts for a few years, he gained his Masters in landscape architecture from Victoria University of Wellington. On graduating in 2017, he applied for a J1 Visa to move to America, inspired by his love of hip-hop. ‘‘Nas, Mobb Deep and Biggie – all those guys were all from New York. I remember thinking ‘If I don’t land on my feet, it’s been a big holiday. What’s the worst that could happen?’’’
Quickly, he found work, and is now at urban design studio SCAPE, creating spaces for world-famous US based tech companies. Tama thought he could bring a unique voice to the table at SCAPE by sharing New Zealand’s successes with indigenous design and inclusivity.
‘‘A lot of professions at home are starting to incorporate elements of te ao Ma¯ ori into their workplace culture’’ says Tama. ‘‘This shift is really exciting and is something that makes Aotearoa unique. A lot of countries – such as the US – are missing out and could benefit immensely from bringing their own indigenous voices forward.’’
Spurred on by this, Tama has been a part of several important initiatives at SCAPE aimed at diversifying the voices in landscape architecture, a predominantly white profession.
‘‘It’s about starting the conversation here in the US, highlighting all the beneficial outcomes for a project by working with minority groups and indigenous communities. My workplace started this process by first hiring me, and trusting and listening to myself and other employees’’ he says.
He’s particularly proud of helping craft an ongoing plan for its diversity, equity and inclusion commitments.
‘‘We’re now in the planning stages of establishing an externship program for historically black colleges and university students, (and) starting an outreach program that works
with local area schools based in NYC that have large minority populations.’’
With a change in strategy to be more inclusive, Tama believes that landscape architecture will only become richer. ‘‘It’s sad to see homogeneity across the built environment, where designs look the same everywhere and lack deeprooted narratives.’’ Good landscape design comes from listening to and learning from collective community voices, Tama says.
‘‘I think the community gardens you see around New York City are a great example of that,’’ he says. ‘‘People have fought hard for these spaces to exist within the city. There’s one in particular that I enjoy called La Plaza Cultural community garden in the Lower East Side. I think it reminds me of being in New Zealand because of its DIY nature and the fact that I can volunteer and get my hands dirty. It really does feel like being in a backyard. I sometimes have to remind myself I am not at my uncle’s in Wellington having a barbecue.’’ Tama is also a fan of the High Line, a 1.45-mile-long elevated linear park, greenway and rail trail created on a former New York Central Railroad spur on the west side of Manhattan in New York City. ‘‘It proves that even a derelict structure can become one of the city’s greatest assets.’’ he
says.
Telling stories about indigenous, immigrant and minority histories is at the heart of his approach. ‘‘If you carve out spaces for under-represented minorities, you can create something very powerful. People think about landscape architecture being for wealthy neighbourhoods, but landscape architecture should be for everyone.’’
At the moment he’s working on a memorial project at Tom Lee Park in Memphis, a narrow, milelong stretch of parkland nestled along the Mississippi River. The park is named after an AfricanAmerican river worker-turnedlocal hero who, in 1925, saved a number of lives after the steamboat M.E. Norman capsized in the river. The renovation, estimated to cost US$60 million, will transform the site into an oasis featuring small hills, paths through forests, a cafe with a porch and even two giant sculptures of river otters. The materials have been carefully considered, a nod to the historic Mississippi River wood logging industry, says Tama.
Architectural projects can be slow to progress, especially in architecture in New York City where projects can take years to complete. Tama is realistic. He hopes to see his projects realised in time. His only real complaint is the American imperial system, which meant he had to completely relearn how to measure from scratch. ‘‘Not a great problem to have as a landscape architect who isn’t great at math.’’
After a trip home to see family in early 2020, Tama returned to New York – and Covid-19. For 15 months he’s been working from home. ‘‘At first it was quite apocalyptic,’’ says Tama. ‘‘Body bags jam-packed on the sidewalk outside the hospital because every day 10,000 people would die. You didn’t feel safe doing anything.’’
After a few difficult months, things began to loosen and the death rate in New York dropped. People emerged from their homes to walk around the block. Restaurants offered outdoor dining. Parks and public spaces filled – only this time in suburban neighbourhoods rather than Central Park. Tama began thinking about how populated communal spaces could be better used at home.
‘‘Here in Brooklyn, people have barbecues and parties in the park. That socialising means they know their neighbours, creating safer communities,’’ he says. ‘‘If New Zealand urban planners get the density right in certain areas and invest in public spaces our cities – like Wellington and Auckland – could be even cooler.’’
Tama wants to stay in New York for now – if he can get his O1 visa, only granted to people with extraordinary talent. ‘‘I feel like there’s still so much I have to give. I’m a Ma¯ ori architect who moved to New York to live in my dream city, bringing with me tikanga and te ao Ma¯ori. With this knowledge and understanding, I want to help black and indigenous people of colour through design and architecture.’’
He eventually plans to come back to New Zealand and open a studio collective to help tell the stories of under-represented minorities. ‘‘I want to inspire others and tell Ma¯ ori and Pasifika architecture students to think global. Auckland isn’t the last stop. There’s a bigger world to conquer.’’
‘‘I want to inspire others and tell Ma¯ori and Pasifika architecture students to think global. Auckland isn’t the last stop. There’s a bigger world to conquer.’’ Tama Whiting