Archives are collections of knowledge used to tell stories about artists and history. By drawing on the legacy of art historians Jonathan Mane-Wheoki, Julie King and Karen Stevenson, Living Archives focuses on intergenerational relationships, artistic lineage and creative networks. Gallery librarian and archivist Tim Jones and curator Melanie Oliver sat down to talk about archives and art history as they prepared for this exhibition.
Jen Rendall (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Māmoe) has explored ancestral narratives and the entwinements of plant life, waterways and landscapes in her works for some time. As a member of Paemanu Ngāi Tahu Contemporary Visual Arts, she has participated in significant exhibitions which honour Kāi Tahu relationships to whenua, including Tauraka Toi: A Landing Place at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery in 2021. More recently, her work was included in Kia Ora Whaea – an exploration of Māori motherhood and Indigenous perspectives and experiences of maternity shown at the Corban Estate Arts Centre in Tāmaki Makarau, which also included work by fellow Kāi Tahu contemporaries Turumeke Harrington and Alix Ashworth.
First he sent me a photo of a rainbow dolphin, which made me laugh because it’s the exact opposite of my personality and he knew that. Then I found a GIF of Dick Van Dyke in double denim riding a dolphin, bouncing on it in automated joy and when I sent it back, it made him laugh. I love that dolphin he said. But maybe both of us are sharks.
Taniwha narratives invoked in small rooms on warm nights of a Hokianga summer, or in big rooms with dirt floors by a Te Reinga river. Hine Kōrako, Poutini, Ngārara Huarau, Whatipū, Ngake and Whātaitai, names repeated and tethered to history from the mouths of generations of sovereign peoples. We wanted more, my tiny cousins and I, we believed in daydreaming and night-flying, viscous trails and portals underground.
Aratohu is an extraordinary new film by artist Lisa Reihana (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hine, Ngāi Tūteauru, Ngāi Tūpoto). A surrealist fable told over the course of a single evening, Aratohu explores destructive influences and the potential for healing. For lead character Wairangi, a fun night out turns into a journey of self-discovery, as reality and hallucination blur and overlap. Following an encounter with Stealer, a sinister figure representing risk and temptation, Wairangi meets Aratohu, an ancestral being offering an alternative pathway, underpinned by renewed strength in her Māori identity.
On stepping into Francine Spencer’s home, what I notice first are the small, glittering points of light, scattered around the room like tiny, flickering whetū. But these aren’t gifts from Rakinui – these starlike specks are made of copper, Fran’s choice of material for her work in the upcoming exhibition Whāia te Taniwha.
Carl Mika (Tuhourangi, Ngāti Whanaunga) is a professor and head of school at Aotahi: Māori and Indigenous Studies, Te Whare Wānanga o Waitaha University of Canterbury. His colleague Garrick Cooper (Ngāti Whanaunga, Ngāti Ranginui) is an associate professor at Aotahi.
What follows is Kirsty Dunn’s attempt to kōrero with her esteemed colleagues about references to taniwha in their mahi. This is a truncated version of an hour-long conversation in which they delve into Te Pō and talk about (or perhaps around?) taniwha a while…
When I was growing up on our rural property in the South Wairarapa, my Dad was engaged in a constant war with his chickens. They would crap on the back deck, the side deck, and occasionally walk into the house and crap on the kitchen floor. He spent countless hours hosing down their muck and complaining about their every move, but still loved them enough to run a regular “name my chooks” competition on his Facebook page for a time.
The laptop fires up and a dreamlike virtual world materialises. Exquisite peacocks – glassy black, ethereal white – emerge on a moonlit stage, framed by icy blue branching patterns. A cast of swans glide through a luminous, rippling lake in measured arcs, their movements both urgent and graceful. In other scenes, two royal lovers – bound by fate, divided by unseen forces – circle one another, mirroring gestures of longing and hesitation.
