9. Ki te Ao Marama: Towards an Understanding of the Artforms Used
Sir Tipene O’Regan asked me to carve this very large whale tooth which had long been a family treasure, or taonga. It contains elements of his Murihiku ancestral home, combined with family genealogy, and still retains the shape of the special tooth it was made from.
Taonga Pūoro must primarily be vessels that enable the creation of a particular type of sound. Their embellishment with carving does not usually improve the sound, but as each is created as an individual, the carving is an important addition, bestowing the respect that the instrument and its traditions deserves.
For those who wish to understand something of the art of the carved instruments that illustrate this book, I offer this brief summary of some aspects of Māori art. Like the rest of the book, it is but a glimpse into a special topic in this basket of knowledge. It is rather complex but that complexity defies further simplification. Primarily Māori art is a conceptual art form where conveying an idea is more important than portraying a likeness.
Because it was an integral part of life, Māori had no traditional word for Art as we now know it. The basis of traditional art is illustrated in the purpose of the special fish hook that is still commonly worn as a pendant. Such decorative, non-functional hooks were lowered with the baited hooks in the belief that the Sea God, Tangaroa, who gave us the art of carving, would reward excellence of workmanship with a good catch.
Makohiku is an example of a stylised non-functional fish hook. It takes its name from the shape of its barb which copies the tail of a mako shark. The koru cut from the outer edge is a vestige of the notch or face carved on hooks to tie the bait to.
If we examine this concept we see that because of the skills learned in making a special hook the functional hooks will be better, as will the lines, in order to keep the treasure safe. This striving for excellence would also have motivated the hook maker into developing other skills, and the combination of all these would ensure a good catch. That resulting good catch was attributed to the act of pleasing the Spirit World and so the rest of the community was inspired to do the same in their own spheres. Thus art elevated a people from the mundane to an ethic of excellence in a way which remains forever relevant.
The ethos of the design style of my carving is taken from Māori cosmogony, where creation began with the two complementary but opposite life forces coming together at Te Ahurewa, the Sacred Altar. Ever since, all creation has contained these two elements of Ira (life force) – Ira Atua (spirit) and Ira Tangata (physical). These are also seen as the male and female elements personified in Rangi and Papa. By keeping these in balance, harmony is created and maintained. Representing this balance with contrasting areas becomes the focus of design.
In this large ira carving, the spiralling shapes represent the two ira, as do the two opposing cutout shapes. It demonstrates how the concept of ira is applied to art in many different ways to remind us to seek that same balance in life’s many spheres.
Carved by Clem Mellish, this pounamu tiki portrays a typically stylised human figure. If it is bisected, the concept that we are half spirit and half body is then represented visually .
A uniquely expressive and important Māori art element is named manaia. Its complex derivation is visible in the accompanying illustration. If a tiki, or human figure has its face and body bisected, then schematically it comprises the two elements of ira, spirit and body. When we isolate either half, the mouth has a characteristic beak-like shape with one eye and nostril in the head, and a body that takes on a sinuous look. This ‘half body’ form is the manaia. The word itself is a key to its significance as it embodies the mana, the prestige or power, of whatever it represents.
Here the half tiki has been rearranged. When put facing this manaia figure depicting a seal, it shows how the manaia concept can be perceived.
Individual parts of this manaia form can be used in isolation or rearranged to suit a particular purpose and the design area it must fit into. A manaia face alone is often used, either to represent some object or even concept, or to acknowledge a special attribute as a gift from the Spirit World. Often I use two rows of linked manaia faces along the body of a flute to represent the passing down of the twin traditions of words and tunes.
On this pōrutu two rows of manaia faces are shown representing the passing down of words and tunes. It is named Tiritiri o te Moana, which is an old name for the Southern Alps viewed from the Tasman Sea where they hover mirage-like above the waves.
Because in the Māori ethos a bird is perceived as a bird person, a tree as a tree person or a stone as a stone person, therefore the human-derived manaia spirit form can be ascribed to other beings also since they share the same spirit as people. However, the representation of other beings is not limited to the manaia form. Since a bird is perceived as a bird person, it is acceptable to carve it, or anything else, with the same stylisation used for a human person.
The manaia form sometimes takes a reverse twist as it has also developed to represent the physical aspect of any being. The conceptual nature of manaia is illustrated by the two examples below:
The paua is represented by a face only, as it resembles the shape of the paua, which of course has no legs. For the fish a curving body and hand has been added with the hand representing the fish’s tail. In the carving on p. 118, the seal manaia shown opposite has a recognisable element to its stylisation with its forward curving flippers. However in the carving at the beginning of this chapter, the manaia faces at the ends of the whale’s tail flukes are not in any way recognisable as they represent the spirit of the great albatrosses that glide gracefully across the Southern Oceans.
Although these uses of manaia allow the artist to tell a story in an excitingly unique way, the narrative must be known before the work can be understood, since a stone may look just like a person in spirit.
The kōkako carved on this pūmotomoto is depicted in similar form to a human with the enlarged hands representing his wings. His wattles are seen as koru on the sides of his lips, and a tail extends from the body.
Several traditional instruments feature a face on each end. We often carve a face on the blown end of a kōauau to represent the face of the instrument so that, when you are playing, you must bring the nose of the kōauau face to yours as in the traditional hongi or greeting. With the other end we can represent the face of the music. By giving this face two noses we convey the concept that the music is the combining of two breaths, that of the instrument and that of the player. Over the centuries other stylised conventions have been established that often bear little or no resemblance to their origins, and there is also a place for naturalistic depiction of all or part of a subject.
The surface of a carving is often textured with designs based on traditional patterns and these add to the story of the carving. The use of a Takarangi double spiral in surface designs reminds us of the complementary elements of Rangi and Papa and it usually indicates a point of movement such as a shoulder or elbow on a figure. On the lower set of this butterfly’s wings, however, it depicts the typical eye of bright colour.
In this whale-tooth nguru, which is carved as a whale, the tail flukes of the whale become manaia spirit faces to acknowledge the great strength the tail has been given. The whale’s face is carved in a traditional ‘whale style’ elaboration of the manaia face, but its pectoral fins resemble hands to show the mutual relationship between all life forms.
The two manaia faces which form the upper part of this butterfly’s wings acknowledge the gift of flight.
Surface patterns may also be used as part of the story, as shown on the pūtōrino illustrated, where the pattern becomes the visual depiction of the unseen music creating its shapes in the silence. This pattern is also arranged in four design fields to represent the movement of these sounds out to Ngā Hau e Whā, the four winds, a traditional way of including distant people and places.
The curled up koru is shown against the adult leaves which nurture it and feed its vigorous growth.
The most common shape in Māori Art is a stylisation of the curled up new fern frond called a koru. This conveys any of the many positive concepts that parallel the vigour with which the frond bursts into life.
To achieve the many aims of this art ethos, the artist must also be a skilled craftsperson; a medium; and a student of history, nature, myth, cosmogony and traditional lore. But when such artists work fluently in the Māori tradition, the powerful art forms that result can evoke responses which affect their owners and their viewers. It is no wonder that some carvings become famed icons, revered for generations and prized beyond price.
In this porotiti the koru is also shown as a cutout spirit shape. These shapes usually suggest further interpretation which creates an added dimension that can be personal to the owner. As well as a design element, they can double as a memory holder for a person, a special place or event.
Kōwhaiwhai
The use of koru is the main element in the traditional painted patterns, kōwhaiwhai, where the balancing of the complementary opposites is strongly portrayed in two ways. The white lines balance the dark areas and, in most traditional patterns, the red also balances the black. The shapes of all areas are carefully composed to be pleasing in themselves, and then the patterns tell a story.
Throughout this book individual kōwhaiwhai designs have been used to illustrate each chapter. Because the introduction and this Whakamārama have a similar explanatory role, both sections use a kōwhaiwhai design that incorporates the main elements of all the designs used for the other chapters.
The simplified elements used for the design of the preface reflect its place as a starting section only.
For the design depicting the tunes of Rangi, the Sky Father, in chapter 1, the topmost element with its straight lines is doubled to represent the wind children. They are surrounded at each end by the rounder shapes of the cloud children. This design shows how the cloud children are constantly being chased around the sky by the mischievous wind children.
Chapter 2 on Hine pū te hue, uses the shape of the gourd with the music flowing from it
Chapter 3 depicts Mataī, the tree used for many of the instruments. In this design we see the central straight trunk, the spreading limbs above and the roots below which are perceived as its hair. This upside down form was the only way Tāne could stop the trees and plants from moving around when he created them to clothe Papa after the separation.
The shells of Tangaroa are represented in chapter 4 by a pūtātara with its loud calls bellowing out from it.
The voices of the winds in chapter 5 use the wind pattern seen in both the sky design and in the designs showing the music flowing from the gourd and the shell. It is repeated four times in this design to represent Ngā Hau e whā, the ‘Four Winds’.
In chapter 6 Raukatauri has a design which shows the spirit of Hirini’s pútórino with its amokura feather resting between the two sides
The design for Papa, the Earth Mother, in chapter 7 brings all the rounder design elements together.
Chapter 8 which gives instructions on making and playing the instruments uses the section of the design which depicts the body of the pūtōrino seen in the design for chapter 6.
Subtle rearrangements of the same elements make the differences between the design in the introduction and this one, used for chapter 9.
Mai i te Kakano
Mai i te kakano
Ka tipu he purapura
I ruia mai i Rangiātea.
Mai ngā pūtake
Ka ū mai te waiora
I ū mai i a Papatūanuku.
Mai ngā raureka
Ka ū mai te hauora
Ka ū mai i a Ranginui.
Ka puawai, ka pū ngā hae
Ka pua ngā hau
Ka kakano ano o tātou rā i tenei wā
Tīhei mauri ora.
From those Precious
Seeds of tradition
Planted in the ancestral homeland
of Rangiātea,
Nurtured by Mother Earth
and the Sky Father,
I take root, sprout leaves
Grow and flower,
To produce more seeds
and keep those gifts forever vital.
- Hirini Melbourne
