Nga¯ puke ko¯rero – the stories of the land
In our weekly art walk – Te Hı¯koi Toi – Arihia Latham tells of stories woven through the hills of Te Whanganui-a-Tara.
My friend and teacher, Taranaki Wha¯nui whaea Pekaira Rei taught me a waiata ‘‘Nga¯ Puke Ko¯rero’’ about the stories held in the hills of our city. Its words tell of the protective hills sending their stories through the awa (streams) down into the harbour to keep safe.
There are three exhibitions that grew over the lockdown period and have culminated in the hills of our city, some fleeting, some permanent, all drawing in community, all telling stories. I set off on a haerenga (journey) with the ko¯rero woven into our whenua.
Veranoa Hetet QSM (Nga¯tiManiapoto, Nga¯tiTu¯wharetoa, Te Ati wa) inspired many to start weaving over lockdown. While I didn’t resurrect my own raranga practice, I loved seeing through social media how people around the motu slowed down to the pace required to sit and prepare harakeke and weave. Her online lessons drew in a community of weavers that we all got to celebrate.
She shared on Twitter her ‘‘kono of Covid19’’. A tiny cornered basket, smaller than your fist, marked the beginning and, as the days wore on, her kono grew bigger and contained the ones before them.
She inspired my writing around the lockdown concept of the ‘‘bubble’’ with these kete, because I didn’t feel my bubble was a luminescent thing flying free. It was nestling in, holding my children close, like this growing wha¯nau of kete. These kono were soft and solid, scented with the tang of the earth. Like us, they needed to be flexible, and functional.
Veranoa has an exhibition of her intricate weaving at the Dowse called ‘‘Creating Potential’’. This could be the runner-up slogan of the year after ‘‘Surviving’’. Her work explores how the past is intrinsic to things through whakapapa being realised in pattern and technique. Three korowai (cloaks) hanging in their own spotlights are astounding examples of this. Each tell a different incredible story, and many honour her mother, master weaver Erenora Puketapu-Hetet.
A contrasting more contemporary piece is like amodern quilt, like those she would make with her mother, only this one is metal and paua and has a futuristic solidity. It forges something new, from the aroha of memories.
I drove from Lower Hutt to Johnsonville, to new community hub Waitohi. The huge permanent raranga installation there ‘‘Whetu¯rangi’’ has 48 woven star shapes created by Dr Maureen Lander QSM (Nga¯ti Maniapoto, Nga¯ti Tu¯wharetoa, Te Ati wa) with Te Roopu Raranga oManaia weavers. It started with wa¯nanga in February but had to change tack with the arrival of the pandemic.
Weavers learnt to zui, and utilise their locally grown harakeke around TeWhanganui-a-Tara. As Matariki and Pu¯anga rose in the skies, the addition of stars to the weaving patterns informed the bigger vision of the work. The result is not only visually epic, but the storytellingwithin each whetu¯ from the many hands in the community shows diverse individuality.
The next curve of the road took me past the harakeke bushes of Otari Bush Reserve in Wilton to the Futuna Chapel in Karori. Herewas another example of traditional methods beingmodernised through wa¯nanga as a salve to 2020, culminating in an exhibition last weekend of weavers from around Aotearoa.
Ka Whaihanga came from 10 days of wa¯nanga during October at Otari Wilton’s Bush. It was the idea of Wellington-based artistMatthew McIntyre-Wilson (Taranaki, Nga Mahanga and Titahi) and Charlene Fraser (Nga¯ti Rangitihi, Nga¯ti Tukorehe and Te Ati Haunui a Papa¯rangi). The pair wanted towa¯nanga experimental and traditional methods ofweaving Kete Whiri and Kete Whakairo, thatwere unknown to most weavers.
Fraser prepared all the harakeke for the participants and asked them not to bring their usual tools so they could become immersed in new methods. The artists who attended were Hiri Crawford, Cathy Payne, Purewa McGregor, Jude Te Punga Nelson,
Maehe Ranginui, Tracey Robens, Corabelle Summerton and Shainey Moreli. Each created two kete for the exhibition.
Walking into the hush of John Scott’s (Te Arawa) Futuna Chapel, itself a space informed by Scott’s Ma¯ori roots, the mauri of the kete, hanging above the pews was palpable. Each piecewas so different from the ones beside it. They felt like a communitywoven together across time, pulling the whenu (strands) from the past across a challenging year and locking it off with gratitude.
I finished my journey around our ¯A harbour, travelling the undulating hills and valleys, feeling like I had been given the chance to listen to nga¯ puke ko¯rero – the stories of the land. Grown through harakeke, woven by many hands of our community, reflecting the stars of our tı¯puna.