My Ngāti Awatanga Through Art

 Art runs through our veins as Māori. Art exists not only in what we create, but in all aspects of our being, passed down through generations of whakapapa. When delving into Māori mahi toi, both traditional and contemporary, that fundamental concept of whakapapa is a common thread throughout it all, whether it’s explicitly expressed through the work or is part of the artist’s process. The creation of Māori visual art is a powerful gateway for artists to explore their connections with their tīpuna, their atua, their traditions, and their culture. I’m not a visual artist by any means, preferring to explore my cultural connections through writing. Engari, I’m grateful to be alive during a time where mahi toi is on the rise and we are surrounded by the wealthiest abundance of Māori art in a long time. While I may never experience those rich feelings of Māori reconnection during an art sesh (seriously, even my stick figures are wack), I can still connect with art on a deeply personal level.  

From June ‘til August this year, Te Kōputu a te Whanga a Toi (Whakatāne Libraries and Galleries) held the exhibition ‘Ngā māreikura a Matariki, whakaniko ki Ngāti Awa’. For the first time ever, gathered works from Ngāti Awa wāhine collectively came together, evoking many Ngāti Awa customs, values, and practices. As someone who didn’t grow up on the whenua of my iwi, an exhibition like this is incredibly exciting, presenting an opportunity to witness the talent of those within my iwi and unlock a range of Ngāti Awa knowledge and pūrakau.  

While I admired every single piece, there were a few that really stood out to me. Glenda Hape’s sculpture “Te whakatoko a te mānuka a Ngāti Awa” tells the pūrakau of Tahinga-o-Te-Rangi uttering “Waiho mā te whakamā, hei patu.” As said in the art description, Ngāti Awa corrects a wrong to this day by placing a manuka, returning the mana to Tahinga-o-Te-Rangi and his descendants. I’d never heard this story before, but through this exhibition, I have gained a greater insight into the makeup of my whakapapa, with the manuka tree transforming from simply a tree to a whakapapa linkage.   

Marama Harawira-Cook’s piece “He uri ahau nō Papatūānuku” speaks not only to Papatūānuku, but the wāhine who were involved with Sawmill Workers Against Poisons. I’d forgotten all about this, again highlighting the power in art bringing important issues to the forefront. For more context, SWAP was created by the late Joe Harawira and former Whakatāne Sawmill workers, mostly Māori, who were poisoned by timber treatment chemicals during their time at the sawmill. Harawira-Cook speaks to the trauma that this issue brought upon whakapapa and wāhine Māori, with chemicals making their way into Ngāti Awa’s whenua and waterways. This art piece forms yet another link to my whakapapa; when our people and whenua feel pain, we all feel it too.  

One of my absolute favourite pieces is Carla Tutua’s painting “Princess Wairaka”, an ode to our tīpuna wahine Wairaka. As said by Tutua in her description, Wairaka’s actions have energised her mokopuna to study at Te Whare Wānanga o Awanuiarangi, a whare wānanga based in Whakatāne, for “personal growth, positive change and awakening”. Last year, I took Level 1 and 2 te reo Māori classes at TWWOA, on my journey of reclaiming my native tongue. However, what Tutua says rings true, as I experienced my own personal growth and positive change in the process.  

Moreover, I often look to Wairaka to get me through the difficult times. In Whakatāne, there lies a statue at The Heads called “Lady On The Rock”, commemorating Wairaka’s bravery when she rescued the Mataatua waka and recited "Kia Whakatāne au i ahau’ – I will act the part of a man.” When I lived in Whakatāne, I would visit this spot often when I was going through something, feeling her mana wāhine energy flowing through me and empowering me to keep going. Both Tutua’s painting and the statue speak specifically to my Ngāti Awatanga, as well as providing me with inspiration and awhi to live my best life as a mana wāhine.  

In every aspect of the arts sector in Aotearoa, Māori are often seen as a homogenous culture, used as a tick-box for diversity. Having iwi-based kaupapa like this is hugely important, because it is a reminder that NOT ALL MĀORI ARE THE SAME! Our multitude of iwi have our uniquely rich mātauranga to draw from. Furthermore, it allows those of us who didn’t grow up surrounded by our iwi’s culture a chance to reconnect on a deep level, with firsthand accounts of Ngāti Awa culture that we may struggle to find elsewhere. 

As Anna McAllister says in her thesis Ko Ahau Tētahi Wahine Whakatumatuma, the personal can be both political and cultural, as well as sharing how she uses her experiences for others to see themselves. That is exactly how I felt witnessing this exhibition, seeing myself and my whakapapa in the art of someone else. Everything we do as Māori is political. Our art is activism, even when we don’t want it to be, simply because it exists. Its pure existence does what Mark Harvey describes in his article on art-activism strategies as “providing alternatives to dominant hegemonic, colonial, capitalist norms”, refusing to fit itself into white-cube-gallery aesthetics that dominate the Western art world. We are loud, we are proud, and we will let our mana flourish to its fullest capacity.  

This exhibition has played a key role in decolonising the gallery scene as a whole. Anna’s words carried weight when she wrote “Māori have to be so strong against the constant pressure and racism that still lives within these institutions, both the university and the gallery”. To see this exhibition led by and centring Ngāti Awa wāhine is what our people have deserved all along, a seat at the table that has notoriously hosted Pākeha only. This exhibition has achieved a level of Māorification that our own Te Papa Museum aims for, listing their intentions for the Māori community to tell their stories on their own terms.  

‘Ngā māreikura a Matariki, whakaniko ki Ngāti Awa’ displays the tino rangatiratanga that all of our Māori artists deserve, the full authority to express themselves creatively however they see fit. In te ao Māori, it is believed that everything in our universe is interconnected and linked through whakapapa, suggesting that Māori mahi toi will always have a sense of whakapapa within it. This exhibition preserves the mana of our iwi and hapū that lie within that structure. It upholds the pūrakau of our tīpuna and our atua. It pays homage to our whenua, our awa, our moana, and other aspects of our physical environment. The wairua can be felt so powerfully on personal, political and cultural levels, with whakapapa underpinning it all. My hope is that these iwi-based exhibition frameworks continue into other rohe, if not executed already, to decolonise our galleries and strengthen iwi-based art customs and practices nationwide.  

Glossary: 

Whakapapa - genealogy  

Mahi toi - art 

Tīpuna - ancestors 

Atua - gods, deity, etc 

Engari - on the contrary, rather, etc 

Wāhine - women 

Pūrakau - stories 

Whenua - land 

Mana wāhine - unique power, spiritual essence and mana of women 

Kaupapa - purpose, issue, initiative, etc 

Mātauranga - knowledge, wisdom, education, etc 

Tino rangatiratanga - self-determination, sovereignty, etc 

Wairua - spirit, soul 

Rohe - region