Blood, Grids and Taonga

Ann Shelton' s photograph : Arena, Te Ngutu O Te Manu/Beak of the Bird, South Taranaki, 2004 Diptych, C type prints1150 x 1450 mm each

Stories of peace and pain are etched into the land of Taranaki. Like the perilous volcanic forces that both toil silently beneath our feet and vocally loom in frightening geography everywhere we look – so to is the history of human habitation in Tarainaki. It is important that we are aware of this history – so that latent grievances can be addressed and elapsed moments of peace celebrated. Art can be a powerful tool to aid the telling of difficult histories. Being specialists of both technique and spirit, artists can use the various materials and media to reveal deep pious like revelations of the human condition. Artists can transform otherwise dry modes and methods of visual documentation. Painting and photography, for instance, can be used plainly as scientific documentation to visually record the facts. An artist, however, can creatively manipulate the possibilities of these mediums to communicate thought and emotion – and express what science cannot.

Puke Ariki’s new exhibition Taranaki Whenua: life-blood-legacy provides a great example of how the subjective possibilities of art can be used to add depth, insight and experience to a history fraught with conflict. The exhibition explores Taranaki’s geological and colonial history with particular emphasis on the conflicting philosophies and agendas of land ownership between Maori and Pakeha. The exhibition welcomes the viewer with large angled walls that jut out in different trajectories. This exhibition design transforms the usually cavernous low ceiling exhibition space into a dynamic warren that invites you to explore and contemplate. As you make your way through the exhibition text panels, data projectors, slick glowing plasma screens, historic artefacts and artworks narrate various stories or rouse thoughtful contemplation. Of the most emotional and thought provoking is the display of a plough used by the people of Parihaka in the late 19th century. The plough is mounted so that it appears to be slicing through a sloping white platform representing the land. The slice of the plough is emphasized by an incendiary ruby light – a bold display that both transforms a rural tool into a historically potent icon and reinforces the great sacrifice of the Parihaka passive resistance movement.

Elsewhere artwork provides similar enrichment. Such as Ann Shelton’s photographic dyptich entitled Arena, Te Ngutu o Te Manu/Beak of the Bird South Taranaki. The photographs depict Te Ngutu o Te Manu/Beak of the Bird - the location of a Maori village and site of the eminent victory of chief Titokowaru over the British army in 1868. The photographs focus on a monument commemorating those that were killed in that battle. The monument is also believed to mark the spot were the famous hired gun and Commander Major Gustavus Ferdinand von Tempsky was killed. Shelton has chosen to display an identical pair of the image hung in opposing orientation – like a water reflection. This hang references how the creation of history is much like the science of a photographic image. A photograph is first upside-down and back to front due to the laws of refraction – when a photograph is printed this process is reversed. This presents a philosophical quandary as to which is the correct orientation of reality. Therefore, Shelton’s dualistic presentation of a historical location guides one to contemplate the reliability of history. However, before one learns the history of the monument and land the dual imagery alone holds a lingering presence. The stark white cross monument is framed by a visually haunting milieu of a lush grass field and a foreboding parameter of naked winter trees. The freshly mown lines in the grass create a surreal forced perspective that both draws you in and forces you back at knife edge as the two images converge. This perturbed contention is also present in the trees. In the above image the skeleton branches appear to extend heavenward while in the inverted image they seem as roots attempting to grasp Hades. Arena, Te Ngutu o Te Manu/Beak of the Bird states no simplistic historical fable but rather visually leads viewer to dwell upon the lingering disturbance of war and the past bias of Taranaki’s colonial stories.

There are many other artworks that are used to both aid the narrative of the exhibition and to contribute additional insight and complexity to the topics. Those that perform this best are Fiona Clark’s aerial photographs of polluted waters between New Plymouth and Waitara caused by industrial waste and sewage – photographs that were later used to support Te Atiawa’s Waitangi Tribunal claim in the 80s. Others include ink and acrylic works by Bevan Ford, enigmatic black and white photography by Laurence Aberhart, and a very brusque banner work by Don Driver. The exhibition is also enhanced by a catalogue which is full of essays and images providing further insight and depth to some of the issues raised.

Woven Memories

Roimata Toroa 2007 (detail) by Ngahina Hohaia photo: Govett-Brewster Art Gallery

Stones cannot weep but yet they inspire many to do so. By this I am referring to memorials that, despite being solid and inert monuments, are emotive vehicles that enable remembrance, contemplation and celebration. The purpose of memorials is to help the understanding of trauma and aid the stages of remorse – so that some good might result. Many in New Zealand would associate the term memorial with the ubiquitous concrete or stone war monoliths erected on civic locations around the country. One of the most moving war memorials in my opinion is the Hall of Memories within the National War Memorial Carillon, Wellington. The design of the hall is such that immediately upon entering its vaulted white interior the visitor is bound in hushed reverence. It is through the careful choice of building materials, design of space and symbolic use of poetry and art that the Hall of Memories commands such a powerful response. Memorials, whether a simple gravestone or grand temple, help us enter in an in-between state of being where the flow of time appears to halt. Sometimes as in the case of a funeral or Anzac dawn ceremony ritual in addition to a memorial helps lead those involved into a contemplative state of being where they are unaware of conceivable time. This experience, which exists in all cultures, came to be termed liminality by the anthropologist Victor Turner. Liminality or the threshold in anthropological terms is the perceived in-between state of being that occurs in religious and cultural experience that results in a transition or transformation of some sort. Most art by its visual or sensory stimulation evokes liminality through which the artist provides the viewer with a meaningful experience. In art the transformation usually results in the greater understanding of a different perspective.

Aspects of the memorial and liminality are present in the work of Ngahina Hohaia entitled Roimata Toroa currently on exhibition at the Govett-Brewster Art Gallery. Roimata Toroa which translates as “Tears of the Albatross” commemorates the Parihaka passive resistance movement of the late 19th century. However, unlike the authoritative architectonics of the memorial or the conceited anthropological study of liminality, the work of Hohaia elicits more complex poetic and sensual nuances.

Framed by two wide flanks of stairs the experience of Roimata Toroa is very much enhanced by the gallery’s architecture. The folding of distance and height as the viewer ascends the stairs instils anticipation and awe. Since each step that the viewer takes reveals glimpses of an impressive wall installation of 392 poi. The poi are made from second-hand woollen blankets most of which are creamy white with some of the cords plated with pink and sky blue wool. Reflecting the weave of the blankets the poi are hung in staggered zigzag formations. Each individual poi also bears one of 60 different machine embroidered insignia in mostly gold thread - with a portion in either black, pink and sky blue.

(installation view)

The work in full view is hard to fathom in its entirety and therefore it entices you to visit its detail – and it is upon inspection of the detail that we journey into the works many narratives. Browsing the array of symbols it becomes apparent that some have direct relevance to the history of Parihaka. For instance, the three white albatross feathers which is a prophetic religious symbol of the Parihaka leader Tohu Kakahi – the image of a plough symbolising how the people of Parihaka obstructed colonial forces from occupying their ancestral lands. Other symbols are related to the history of Parihaka but have more general significance. For example, the Christian crown of thorns, the shackled hands of slavery and the innocence of a girl skipping with a rope. Through to commonly identifiable colonial symbols of sailing ships, British solders, and cannons. Running across the middle row of poi are the fervent words of Tohu Kaakahi inspiring his people “to overcome evil with good”. Being dispersed over many poi leads you to read the speech in fragments making each word resonate in your mind.

The materiality of the poi holds further symbolism specific to Parihaka. As the wall label informs us the blanket was used as a metaphor by leaders Tohu Kaakahi and Te Whiti o Rongomai indicating their good will to share their ancestral land with Pakeha - a benevolent offer that was savagely violated by Pakeha. Therefore, the woollen blankets transformed into poi by Hohaia stand as a poignant memorial to the pacifist ideologies of the Parihaka movement. Also of significance is the static existence of the poi. Being frozen in sacred reverence on the gallery wall these poi will never be used in performance. Collectively the poi sit as an ethereal monument - a monument that despite its apparent material fragility communicates with heart seizing impact.

While a significant portion of Roimata Toroa’s meaning is steeped in cultural tradition and historic intensity it also lends itself to other interpretations. This is due to the works diverse grouping of experiential, symbolic and aesthetic components that encourage individual contemplation rather than making a didactic statement.
Roimata Toroa ends 2 March 2008.