Stories from the heartwood

A new collection of short writing doubles down on language, Tom McKinlay writes.
A well known whakataukī (proverb) could very well stand as the guiding principal for a new collection of writing.
The whakataukī "Ruia taitea kia tū ko taikākā anake" can be understood as "only the strong survive", but more literally translates as "Strip off the sapwood so the heartwood remains".
Ruia (strip away), taitea (sapwood), tū (remain), taikākā (heartwood), anake (only).
All 100 of the contributors to Short Poto achieved just that, meeting the book's requirement to come in at under 300 words — not a splinter more.
And appropriately enough, the whakataukī also gets an outing in one of the book's entries, Jessica Hinerangi's small story Horse girls . At least it does in the te reo Māori translation ( Kōhine hōiho ).
Because each of the contributions here appears twice — on facing pages. On the left in English, on the right in te reo Māori.
The whakataukī is not used in full in Horse girls/Kōhine hōiho , rather the translator has adapted it to Hinerangi's narrative.
The line in Horse girls , as written by Hinerangi, is "... to exist as a myth and shed all sides of the self?".
The protagonist in Hinerangi's story becomes one with the horse she is riding, "a wisp of racing smoke", shedding all that is extraneous to that purpose.
So, the translation for Kōhine hōiho is "kua ruia katoatia ngā taitea o te tinana".
Ruia katoatia (shed completely), ngā taitea (sapwood), o te tinana (of the body).
It's a translation, but more than that, it shifts the action of Hinerangi's story into te ao Māori.
That's the job of the translator, says Assoc Prof Hone Morris — who oversaw the work of translating the stories in Short Poto , including Horse girls — not just to translate the English into gramatically correct te reo Māori, but to express the thought in an authentically reo Māori way.
"There's an English mind and a Māori mind," Prof Morris says. "And some translations, they might be Māori words, but the thinking behind it is English."
This then was the considerable challenge Prof Morris and his 10-strong team of translators faced in Short Poto (subtitle "The big book of small stories: Iti te kupu, nui te kōrero"), the new collection edited by Dunedin-based Michelle Elvy and Kiri Piahana-Wong (Ngāti Ranginui). Each translation needed to be not only faithful to the collection's enormous variety of styles and voices but also render the myriad imagery in a Māori way.
The book is a celebration of spare, condensed focus, across its mix of flash fiction, prose poetry and creative non-fiction but also very deliberately designed as a resource for learners of te reo Māori — so they can read the English and see how the same idea might be expressed in te reo.
Elvy says she started thinking about developing such a resource some years ago.
"I started thinking that the small form, a story on a page, it's the perfect model for learning a language," she says.
The idea was informed by her own experiences in multilingualism, as someone who has lived in countries with various mother tongues, learning them as she went.
Resident now in Aotearoa since 2008, Elvy has long championed micro and flash fiction, editing the literary journal Flash Frontier and organising the country's National Flash Fiction Day — and saw the opportunity the form offered as an educational tool.
"You know, you go back to those school years that we all had where you learn French or German or Spanish, and you might read the text side by side at some point, because you start to see how phrases form, how language is not a word-for-word translation, but it's about the rhythm and the way an idea is captured, certainly in something poetic," she says.
"So, I started to think, gosh, we should have something like this in New Zealand. It would be fantastic. Because, also, so many more people that I knew all around me, including myself, were starting to learn this language, because we realised it's something we need to do."
Hinerangi's piece, that reads like a memoir, started life in a collection of her poetry. Other pieces among the 100 range from satire and political commentary to slithers and slices of the everyday, from humorous to sobering.
Robert Sullivan teaches a lesson in New Zealand's colonial history in fewer than 200 words, in his prose poem Pupurangi Shelley (it references Ozymadias ).
Pūpū rangi are kauri snails, and Sullivan's snail journeys to the battleground New World (Ao Hou) supermarkets of Pukehinahina, Ruapekapeka and Ōhaeawai "teaching our kids about their history" (hei whakaako i ā tātou tamariki i tō rātou hītori).
Pupurangi Shelley is from Sullivan's Ockham-nominated collection Hopurangi — Songcatcher .
The translation leans into Sullivan's telling by rendering "wind" as "Tāwhirimātea".
"I miss most my kauri trees with their big trunks that sing with the wind ..." becomes "Ko te mea e tino aroha ana ahau ko ōku rākau kauri me ngā tīwai kaitā e toiere ana me Tāwhirimātea".
"I think that goes with the whole essence of the spirit of the story," Prof Morris says. "By using that personified form of natural energy."
Elvy's own piece of short writing in the collection is Tussock/Hinarepe , in which a mother and child visit Central's stark landscape.
Her line "She looks across the land" becomes "Ka kai ōna mata ki te whenua", literally, her eyes (mata) eat (kai) the land (whenua).
You'll find that saying a lot in mōteatea, Prof Morris says, the ancient songs, many of which were collected by Apirana Ngata.
"You'll find that, e kai ō mata, e kai ō mata, feast your eyes there."
The translation team will also have reached for the traditional language of whaikōrero (oratory) and karanga (calls of welcome) to find the appropriate phrases, he says.
For Elvy, beyond the pleasure of publishing a book in the two languages, it has been the excitement of seeing the ways in which these short forms are evolving and finding favour.
In 2018 she edited a collection of flash fiction and its sister forms called Bonsai , with Frankie McMillan and James Norcliffe, and has been thinking about how this new collection compares, what's changed in terms of the subject matter and how it represents who we are.
"I think you have a really diverse set of stories with this book, and I think it holds up as an incredible representation of the small form."
Among the things Elvy likes is the blurring between the various forms the writers are using.
"That's the other thing about flash fiction that I really love, that line between poetry and short fiction is very fine, and sometimes hard to define. Sometimes we can't define it."
David Eggleton, whose evocative Perfume/Whakakakara also appears in Short Poto , is a good example of that, she says.
Elvy is working across these languages in other ways. Her journal Flash Frontier takes a theme for each issue, and for July it will be "Stars / Ngā Whetū" — a special winter edition, with works in English and te reo Māori.
"We really want to use the small form to keep sharing this idea that the language can be learned, it can be accessible," she says.
Elvy is also pleased with the timing of the book's appearance in Aotearoa New Zealand, when here as elsewhere culture is under attack and te reo Māori has become a target.
"I think a book like this has importance in terms of not just the beauty of literature and language but making a statement," she says.
"I had this idea three years ago and it was a completely different set of ideas that drove me at first. But now that it's out, the timing of it could not be more right." The book
• Short | Poto: The big book of small stories | Iti te kupu, nui te kōrero , edited by Michelle Elvy and Kiri Piahana-Wong, published by Massey University Press, is out on Thursday. Pupurangi Shelley Robert Sullivan
I am a kauri snail kaitiaki, look on my green spiral shell, ye mighty, and despair. I admit I've eaten noke or native worm sushi but I am a hundred millimetres long and move at 0.013 m/s through the Whirinaki, the Tai Tokerau, Waitākere and Kaimai ranges to reside outside New World Gate Pā, Pak'nSave Ruapekapeka and the Ōhaeawai Four Square, teaching our kids their history at
2 a.m., or thereabouts, distributing udon noodles from the dumpsters so our kids can save the noke. I miss most my kauri trees with their big trunks that sing with the wind and admit they stretch taller than my tall tentacles. I tell the tamariki our whānau whakapapa goes for 200 million years beyond the Treaty of Waitangi and James Busby picked up our tūpuna in a tentacular blink twice giving us his surname, Paryphanta Busbyi Busbyi, making it all about him. Aroha mai, sorry, I must eat and run. Pūpū rangi Shelley Nā Robert Sullivan
He pūpū rangi, he kaitiaki ahau, titiro mai ki taku anganga kākāriki e tōrino nei, e mārohirohi mā, me tō aurere. Āe, kua kaingia e au te noke, me kī, te sushi noke māori, heoi, kotahi rau mitamano taku roa, e 0.013 mitamano/hēkona te tere o te kōneke i ngā pae maunga o Whirinaki, o Te Tai Tokerau, o Waitākere o Kaimai hoki kia noho ki waho o Ao Hou i Pukehinahina, o Pak'nSave i Ruapekapeka, me te Four Square i Ōhaeawai, hei whakaako i ā tātou tamariki i tō rātou hītori i te 2 karaka, i taua takiwā pea, kia tuari atu i ngā kihu parāoa udon mai i ngā ipupara nui kia ora ai i ā tātou tamariki te noke. Ko te mea e tino aroha ana ahau ko ōku rākau kauri me ngā tīwai kaitā e toiere ana me Tāwhirimātea, āe, ko tōna tāroaroa ka toro ake i ōku ake kawekawe roroa. Ka kī atu au ki ngā tamariki nō ngā 200 miriona tau i tua atu o Te Tiriti o Waitangi tō mātou nei whakapapa, ā, nā Te Pūhipi ō mātou tūpuna i rarau atu i tētahi kimo kawekawe rā me te tapa mai ki tōna ake ingoa whānau, ko Paryphanta Busbyi Busbyi, hei whakamana i a ia anō. Aroha mai, me kai au, me kōneke atu.
Short | Poto: The big book of small stories | Iti te kupu, nui te kōrero , edited by Michelle Elvy and Kiri Piahana-Wong, Massey University Press.
Pupurangi Shelley was previously published in Hopurangi — Songcatcher: Poems from the Maramataka (AUP, 2024).

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Newsroom

7 hours ago

• Newsroom

Short story for Matariki Weekend: It followed her home, by Jessica Hinerangi Thompson- Carr

They lived in an overpriced flat two blocks from the beach. Peter, Nathan, Luke and Harley all took commerce, Isla studied environmental management, and Kiri had enrolled in marine science. Kiri met Isla through Te Rōpū Māori association, and as soon as she'd expressed needing a place to live, Isla had invited her in. The boys accepted her quickly, they thought she was fun because she could do keg stands. Kiri didn't like beer, but she wanted friends, so she signed the lease. They held flat parties, large and small, at least three nights a week. As the university workload increased, the parties did not wind down. They strained through their studies, the promise of a box and some beats their carrot dangling on a stick at the end of the day. * Almost every day of first semester was spent at the beach with drinks. Kiri walked to the rock pools while the others lay in the dunes, tipping her beer onto the sand when they weren't looking. She crouched like a shag and studied the eco systems inside. All her lunchtimes at high school had been spent in the corner of the library reading about octopus and crabs. Her only friend had been the seventy year old Librarian Mrs Lauder. Kiri wanted to be liked. So badly. She didn't want to be Koretake Kiri anymore, the sore nickname given by her old peers up North. Koretake Kiri couldn't answer pātai in class, she froze up. Koretake Kiri couldn't do a job without dropping something. Koretake Kiri didn't know social cues, she rambled while others rolled their eyes. She didn't know what clothes to wear or how to apply makeup, or party like they did on TV. But Ōtepoti was her clean slate. No one knew her down here. She was determined to learn, and fake what she could. She'd done the whole rom com transformation thing before arriving. Got a fresh haircut. Plucked her eye brows. Filled her wardrobe with Glassons attire. She knew to play the billboard hot 100 when the aux cord came her way. She watched beauty youtubers with her breakfast. She found ways to bond with her flatmates. Isla loved One Direction, American Horror Story, and spending her afternoons scrolling Tumblr, so Kiri watched all the episodes at night through her headphones and made a Tumblr account dedicated to Zayn. They lay side by side on Isla's bed eating chips and re-blogging for hours. The boys loved video games. Sometimes they let her play Mario Kart or Call of Duty with them. She was good enough to last a few rounds, and mimicked how her cousins talked up home when they played. 'Kerri! Oi! Don't shoot at me!' 'It's Kiri.' 'Sorry Kerri. What the hell what are you doing?!' 'Your mum.' 'Kerri! Where are you going now?' 'Get wrecked scrub. It's Kiri.' They all chuckled and she hid her smile with a shrug. She had to limit her reo use. Isla seemed uncomfortable when Kiri tried to kōrero Māori with her outside of uni. The boys didn't know anything beyond Kia Ora and the national anthem. She tried to teach them a little. 'Kei te pehea koe?' 'Huh?' 'It means how are you? You could say anything back like pai for good, pōuri for sad, ngenge for tired…' 'Oh. I'm good, thanks.' Isla did most of the cleaning, and Kiri tried to help. There was no chore chart. The boys didn't seem to notice the filth. Peter liked to watch Isla vacuum and Harley liked to watch Kiri cook her meals. Kiri always gave him a portion of what she made. He was the most attractive of the boys, though she'd learned the phrase 'don't screw the crew,' she couldn't help flirting with him, seeing every glance he gave her as something meaningful. She began to feel at home in the flat, each room always loud and lively. The location was ideal, the ocean a stone's throw away so she could study marine life anytime. She loved the parties, things she'd never been invited to before. She could blend in at parties, beneath the aluminium hum, revelling in the spell of false friendliness that everyone fell under. * Her 19th birthday rolled around. They spent the day on the beach. The boys chugged beers in between a game of touch and Isla watched on her towel sipping vodka cruisers. Kiri went to the rock pools. Her māmā called. 'Hari Huritau e te tau! I pehea āu akoranga?' 'Pai. Good,' Kiri didn't mention the C she'd received on her recent essay, or how she'd missed three tutorials because she was too hungover, 'I'm learning a lot.' 'Me āu hoanoho?' 'They're really cool,' she didn't confess about the excessive drinking or the lack of a chore chart. 'Kōrero Māori to me my girl. Why don't you kōrero Māori?' 'Everything is pai māmā, kei te pai noa. It's all good down here. I'll be up to visit end of the year.' She hung up and stared into the water at her feet. Her tears fed the pool, and movement caught her eye. Something hid at the bottom under the murk and weed. She felt it watching her. A rounded shadow, adjusting itself deeper into the rock. 'Kiri! Come on!' It was dinner time. Everyone stumbled back to the flat tipsy. The back of Kiri's head buzzed. Her teeth tingled. She noticed something slink around in her peripheral. * Kiri twisted her body in her mirror. As she tucked the back of her cami into her jeans she noticed it. Beside her bed on the floor, pressed against the wall, a shiny wet blob. She screamed. Isla came running, 'What is it?' 'Look!' Kiri pointed. 'I don't know … what is that?' Isla peered down. It was the size of a bowling ball, pale pink, and slightly translucent. Like silicone but squishier, like jelly but sturdier. Kiri's insides flipped. It had followed her home, she knew it. She reached out. 'Don't touch it!' Kiri sniffed the smallest spot of wet at the tip of her finger, 'I think it's from the beach.' 'Oh god that's disgusting.' Isla stormed through the flat. 'Harley! Did you put something in Kiri's room? Peter! Do you know anything about this? Boys! Is it a sick joke? You guys are so rank.' The boys came to look, shaking their heads, scrunching their noses. 'I have no idea what that thing is.' 'Alien as!' Peter marvelled, offering Kiri a beer. 'What do I do? How do I get it out?' 'Shovel it out?' 'We don't have a shovel.' They used an oven tray to scoop the mucilaginous mass off the floor. It was heavy. Kiri and Peter had to hold each side of the tray. They walked sideways down the street to the beach. It schlooped onto the sand, rippling at the drop, then stilled. 'Do you think it's dead?' Kiri whispered. 'Maybe,' Peter peered down, 'I don't know if it was ever alive.' The pink glowed in the setting sun. It looked too bright to be dead. * Although it was her birthday party, no one noticed when she disappeared from it. So many strangers filled the house. Kiri collapsed onto her bed and waited for sleep to come. Her whole body was coiled in taut uncertainty. She rolled side to side. She stared at the ceiling, then she stared at the floor where the blob had been. The jelly stain hadn't dried. Kiri reached out from her bed and wiped her finger across it. She sniffed. It was an odd smell. A little sickening, a little moreish. She rubbed her nose and finger raw into the dawn, rubbing and sniffing, rubbing and sniffing. She couldn't stop. * It began in her puku. Groanings like wrecked ships swaying in ocean trenches, whale song echoing down to her pelvis. She had to leave her lectures early, mortified. She skipped flat movie nights and kept to her room, researching IBS and colon cancer. Student health said it was trapped gas and prescribed some medication. It didn't help. Kiri spent her time curled up facing the wall where the blob had been. It had left a permanent stain on the skirting board which still smelled. Some nights she woke kneeling on the carpet, face pressed against it, inhaling desperately. Sometimes she caught herself licking it. She gained the fresher five and more, despite diet attempts. Her belly, hips, behind, and breasts, all bubbled out from her bones. She attended step and spin classes at the gym, stopped eating fast food and sweets, and shrunk her portions. But her flesh kept expanding. * 'Don't you think that's a bit revealing?' Harley scanned her outfit one night. Kiri wore a sheer long sleeve over a v-neck singlet and jeans. 'Are you serious?' 'I dunno … I can see a lot.' Before she could think what to reply, he left her. Kiri swore at her reflection; scolded herself for not telling him where to put his eyes, for not defending herself. She consulted Isla who was hacking burnt crust off a pan in the kitchen, a rare cooking attempt by Peter. 'Don't ever let a man tell you what your outfit is or isn't. You look great.' 'Is it too revealing though? Harley said-' 'You've just gained a little weight and guys can't compute that our bodies aren't flat forever. Ignore him.' Their thirsty Thursday proceeded. They went to the clubs and returned by 3am, congregating in the lounge to guzzle water and review the night. Kiri settled on an arm chair and just listened. She was content for the moment, until she felt Harley's eyes on her. 'Jesus put your breasts away, Kerri.' He said it loudly so everyone else stopped talking and looked at him, then looked at her. 'They're actually massive.' 'Don't look at them if they bother you so much.' 'It's hard not to when you've got them out like that.' Kiri stood and walked as calmly as she could to her room. She checked herself in the mirror. Her skin was coral red and her eyes shone with shock. But she was covered up. The boys had never commented on their bodies before. At least not in front of them. She tucked herself into bed and pawed at the blob wall, struggling to sleep. She recalled her notes from the last few lectures she'd attended. Shelter seeking behaviour in intertidal crabs … the collapse of orange roughy fisheries… H. rotundifrons and P. elongatus species scuttled up and down her walls. Sleek tuna, narrow sharks, and burnished barracudas swam circles on her ceiling. * Her appetite evolved. She couldn't starve herself anymore. She was sick of eating nothing. So she started eating everything; kinas, mussels, shrimp, tarakihi, red gurnard, tuna, snapper, squid, prawns, oysters … Nights when she'd run out of kai she ran to the beach and dug frantically in the dark for pipi till her fingers turned blue. Sometimes she wanted the kai so desperately, she didn't slow to cook it. She slipped fillets of raw fish down her throat with ease. The bones were no obstacle. During exam season, Kiri's skin turned pink all over, like sunburn, but the days were dark and cold. Small bumps burgeoned along her arms and legs. She returned to student health and they said it was eczema caused by stress. She lathered foundation over the limbs she could not cover in clothing, and beat herself silly every morning with the beauty blender. Every day she was bumpier, pinker, thirstier, hungrier. She couldn't escape the unbearable sensation of dryness. In the shower she scrubbed herself raw, rotating between a loofah, exfoliant gloves and a pumice stone. Whispers outside the door. She caught 'being so weird …' and 'flat meeting'. It was happening, she sighed, they were seeing Koretake Kiri. * Exams passed, and celebrations commenced with more gusto than ever. Everyone went to Castle Street. Kiri followed her flatmates trying not to feel like the unwanted one who clung too close. They mostly ignored her, except Harley who'd snorted something that made him extremely friendly. Kiri disregarded him. Of all of them, he was the last one she wanted to talk to. He hadn't said sorry, just pretended everything was fine. She felt his eyes on her throughout the night. She tried to elbow them off, jumping from group to group, mooching smokes and laughing at anything. Hungrier. Thirstier. She walked into random flats and raided the cupboards in the kitchens, stuffing handfuls of cereal and wads of bread into her mouth. No one noticed. In the bathrooms she held her tongue under the running faucet until someone banged on the door. She felt she was drowning in filthy bass and broken glass. She wandered around the corner onto Howe street where bodies thinned out. There she found a couch crouched in the middle of the road like a dare. 'You wouldn't,' Harley's voice behind her jeered. She turned to see him holding out a lighter. She felt an absurd impulse to impress him. She wanted to show him she was more than round and bumpy. Hungry and thirsty. Anxious and useless. She snatched the lighter and flicked a tiny flame alive. It caught the fabric and ran like a dog off its leash up the upholstery. They jumped back, but Kiri caught a whip of heat on her arm. Harley laughed and clapped as she ran away. The back of her head buzzed. Her arm stung, her gums ached and her vision shimmied. She ordered a ride back to the flat and made her way to the beach. Kiri stumbled down the dunes into the black water and hunched over, retching. Something fell out of her mouth. Rushing red on her tongue. She searched the sand at her feet and clutched what could have been wheel shells or cats eyes. But they were teeth. Kiri sank down and let the cold clamp its jaws into her body. The buzzing drained out of her under the press of the tide. Her arm cooled and she let the current shuck her back and forth. She released her teeth, and fell asleep in the steady shore for a few hours. She would have stayed all night if her puku hadn't woken her. * Still hungry. Trekking slowly back home, her feet dragged on the concrete, breath heavy. It was hard to work her lungs out of the water now. Her face slipped downward. She stumbled into the flat and leaned against the wall in the hallway, listening. She slunk into her bedroom and bent down to greet the blob wall. 'Hey,' someone whispered from her bed, 'I texted you.' Harley sat up and patted the space beside him. Kiri lurched forward, her legs heavy sponge, grabbed the edge of the bed and gurgled. 'Was that your stomach?' Harley started laughing, but stopped when his eyes adjusted. She hovered over him. Her eyes had sunk into a softened skull. Her mouth pinched to a lumpy centre. Her hair had melted to mucus. Her thick makeup had been washed away revealing the dermal branchiae that erupted all over her skin. Before Harley could scream, before he could make any move to escape, she had him. It felt sublime to be completely spilled out. She smothered his face with her top ray, and wrapped the rest of her around his middle. Her new suction disc slowly pried his stomach open at the belly button, it was as easy as peeling back the wrapper of a chocolate bar. She relished the warmth of his intestines. She averted her own stomach, her new centre, into his, and began to eat. Leisurely, she digested most of his innards. When she was done, she released his husk and her stomach retreated back into her body. It had been a silent feast. She oozed to the floor and latched herself onto the wall. * Isla knocked several times on Kiri's door the next day. She expected a reply eventually, but when night fell and Kiri hadn't emerged, she let herself in. There was no evidence of the previous night. No body on the bed, no blood or acids on the sheets. But there was a star-shaped blob suctioned to the wall. 'Another one?' Isla sighed, kneeling down to inspect the organism. Before she went to fetch the oven tray, she couldn't help herself. She reached out and touched it. Asked what was on her mind when she wrote the story, the author replied, 'This story was inspired by my own and many of my friends first year of university at Otago. The pressure of trying to fit in and force friendships when inside you're a growing turmoil. The drinking culture, the anxiety, pretending to be an adult when you're just a child fresh out of high school. I had a horrible relationship with my body, my sexuality, my identity, in my first few years. I wanted release, to spill out, but I was terrified of what was in me. This story is about the pressure that builds up when you try to repress it, and revenge of the body and nature. 'It is also inspired by starfish. A friend once walked me through how truly terrifying they are, and if they were to grow larger and come for us, we would be doomed.'

Otago Daily Times

17 hours ago

• Otago Daily Times

Printmaker's poignant homecoming

Te Atamira exhibitor Vanessa Edwards. PHOTO: SUPPLIED A prominent Māori printmaker has dedicated an exhibition at Queenstown's Te Atamira to her mother, who died in a Kingston Rd car crash when her family lived in the resort. Whanganui-based Vanessa Edwards, who helped found Toi Whakaata Māori Print Collective in 2006, says she moved from Perth to Queenstown with her Māori father Neil Edwards, 'southern' mother Debra Louise, from Wyndham, and older brother in the early 1980s, when she was 3. She recalls attending Queenstown Primary — "I thoroughly enjoyed school, the outdoor education was amazing" — and she was also into art. Her parents managed the Pinewood backpackers lodge and her mum started Queenstown's first nail salon, Elegant Nails. In March 1992 her mother died in that car crash, aged 35, and is buried in the Frankton cemetery — "it was really sad for us," Vanessa says. After year 7 at Wakatipu High she left with her dad and brother for Taumaranui in the North Island. "It was a massive cultural shock for me and my brother because we realised what being Māori was as we moved in with our Māori grandparents." Vanessa later trained at art school in Whanganui, majoring in printmaking — she later completed a masters in Māori visual arts at Massey University. She says she decided to exhibit in Queenstown because she's noticed Te Atamira's "already had some powerful print shows, and there's not many places that advocate for printmaking". "I've returned to honour my mother with this beautiful exhibition" — 'karanga atu, karanga mai', or 'calling outward, calling inward'. Also exhibiting are three other collective members, Alexis Neal, Jasmine Horton and Tessa Russell. Officially opened last Saturday, the exhibition runs till September 22.

NZ Herald

2 days ago

• NZ Herald

Matariki 2025: Art light trail showcasing local creators snakes through Auckland city centre

The trail begins on Upper Queen St on the corner of Mayoral Drive, leading into Myers Park along a stairway designed by Tessa Harris (Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki) with patterns depicting pātiki to discover the captivating light and sounds of Waimahara. Waimahara asks people to remember Te Waihorotiu, the stream that flows quietly beneath the underpass. Commissioned by Auckland Council, this permanent multi-sensory artwork – by Graham Tipene (Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei, Ngāti Kahu, Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Hauā, Ngāti Manu), technology experts IION, skilled Māori composers and creatives – is just the beginning. Te Ara Rama Matariki Light Trail. Photo / Glenn Iness Step 2: Tūrama and Taurima Upon returning to Queen St, Tūrama will begin to unfold. A series of art installations tells ancient stories of place as you walk towards the sea. First, participants will see Horotiu, a 9m kaitiaki who symbolically guards the ancestral river, greeting the waharoa in Aotea Square, by celebrated artist Selwyn Murupaenga. This area carries the historic ngā tapuwae o ngā mana o te whenua, who thrived in this space for hundreds of years. Turama Kaitiaki. Manu Korokī will be next. Inspired by the works of revered ringa whao Fred Graham, flocks of manu take flight on opposite sides of Queen St with an accompanying audio track mimicking their birdsong. Kāhu Kōrako will be visible high in the crosswires, representing an older kāhu whose plumage has lost the dark colouring of youth and whose feathers have turned grey. Lights, music, and more are on offer in Auckland this Matariki. Photo / Auckland Council Turn left into the historic Strand Arcade, and Taurima will shine among the trees on Elliot St. With symbolism of pātaka kai suspended above the street in quirky fluoro-neon art created by Lissy Robinson-Cole (Ngāti Kahu, Ngāti Hine), Rudi Robinson-Cole (Waikato, Ngāruahine, Ngāti Pāoa, Te Arawa), Ataahua Papa (Ngāti Koroki, Kahukura, Ngāti Mahuta), and Angus Muir Design, you will be immersed in the history of this space and place. Taurima. Photo / Jay Farnwoth Heading back to Queen St along Victoria St, look back along this unique viewshaft to the Sky Tower and you will see a bespoke Māori art projected on to the city's biggest canvas. While walking towards the harbour, a Kawau Tikitiki will be suspended in flight above the street, acknowledging this bird's revered constancy of purpose, resolute nature and speed of action. Upon reaching the original foreshore between Shortland and Fort Sts, participants will walk beneath the majestic Te Wehenga, where illuminated imagery will evolve from whenua to moana. The role of waharoa in Māori architectural tradition marks the junction of realms, a transition point where something changes; where you will feel you are leaving something behind and progressing into something new. Tūrama was created by Graham Tipene, Ataahua Papa and Angus Muir Design, with support from Auckland Council and the city centre targeted rate. Tūrama Te Wehenga. Photo / Jay Farnworth Step 3: Tūhono The downtown section of the Matariki light trail begins at Te Komititanga, the square that features permanent works of whāriki where Queen St meets the sea. Tūhono is an all-new trail of light installations and lightboxes linking Te Kōmititanga along Galway St to Takutai Square and Māhuhu ki te Rangi Park. Artist Arama Tamariki-Enua – Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei, Tumu-te-Varovaro (Rarotonga), Ara'ura (Aitutaki) – has blended tradition with contemporary design. He invigorates ancestral rhythms and motifs with modern arrangements of vibrant colours, introducing an immersive journey for all to experience. In Takutai Square, Tamariki-Enua worked with Angus Muir and Catherine Ellis on a light and sound installation using patterns that reference tukutuku panels and carving in Tumutumuwhena, with the repetition of the patterns forming the star-like shapes of the Matariki cluster. Matariki trails include light installations, kapa haka, and street markets in the city centre. An accompanying soundscape, developed in collaboration with Peter Hobbs, brings back sounds of the foreshore and forest before the modern city was founded. The works are projected on to Te Rou Kai, the public artwork made up of a pop-jet fountain and 16 sculptural stones by an older generation of Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei artists. Tamariki-Enua's creation encourages reflection on what is now and what was then. The Tūhono light projections in Takutai Square will play every evening from Thursday, June 19, to Thursday, July 10, with a seven-minute light and sound sequence every quarter-hour from 5pm until 10pm. Tūhono takes the form of a metaphoric waka, drawing a visual and spiritual line toward Takaparawhau, the Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei ancestral stronghold where Tumutumuwhenua, their whare tupuna, proudly stands. Immerse yourself in modern mahi toi (art) and a lightshow within Takutai Square, stroll among the illuminated mature trees of Beach Rd, marvel at a 10-storey laser projection on to the Nesuto building and fun light designs within Te Tōangaroa, including Te Mātahi o te Tau by Tyrone Ohia and Angus Muir Design. Tūhono and these new downtown activations for Matariki are brought to Matariki ki te Manawa in the city centre by Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei and Britomart Group, with support from Auckland Council and the city centre targeted rate. Te Hui Ahurei o Matariki – Matariki Festival Day Aucklanders can experience kapa haka, waiata, carving demonstrations, raranga (weaving) activations, kite making, stories, art and an insight into special waterways at the Botanic Gardens as part of Matariki Festival Day. Festivities will begin at 10am and last until 4pm. Auckland Transport has put on a free park and ride service for the festival. The main departure point will be the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1185 Alfriston Rd, Alfriston. If the church carpark reaches capacity, additional parking is available directly across the road at Alfriston College, 540 Porchester Rd. Buses will run continuously on a loop between 9.45am and 4.45pm. The last bus to leave the garden will be at 4.45pm, and the garden gates will lock at 5.30pm.