11th Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art

ESTABLISHED2023, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND NATALIE ROBERTSON NGĀTI PŌKAI, NGĀTI POROU, CLANN DHÒNNCHAIDH B.1962, KAWERAU, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND LIVES +WORKS IN TĀMAKI MAKAURAU, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND GRAEMEATKINS NGĀTI PŌKAI, NGĀTI POROU, RONGOMAIWAHINE B.1966, GISBORNE, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND LIVES +WORKS IN TĪKAPA, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND LIONELMATENGA NGĀTI PŌKAI, NGĀTI POROU, NGĀTI KAHUNGUNU KI WAIRARAPA KI POUAKANI B.1965, GISBORNE LIVES +WORKS IN RUATOREA, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND WITH ALEXMONTEITH CLANMITCHELL, CLANMONTEITH B.1977, BÉAL FEIRSTE BELFAST, NA SÉ CHONTAE NORTHERN IRELAND LIVES +WORKS IN PIHA, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND + TĀMAKI MAKAURAU MAREE SHEEHAN NGĀTI MANIAPOTO, WAIKATO, NGĀTI TŪWHARETOA, CLAN SHEEHAN, CLANMARSHALL B.1969, LEESTON, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND LIVES +WORKS INWHĀINGAROA AND KIRIKIRIROA, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND ABRAHAMKARAKA NGĀTI MĀUI, NGĀTI PUTAANGA, TEWHĀNAU A HINERUPE, TE KAI TUTAE B. 1975, TĀMAKI MAKAURAU LIVES +WORKS IN TE ARAROA, AOTEAROA NEWZEALAND Winding north-east, some 130 kilometres from a valley once richly covered in native forest, the Waiapu River reaches Te Moana-Nui-a-Kiwa (Pacific Ocean) at Pōhautea on the East Cape of Aotearoa New Zealand’s North Island. The Māori ancestral deity Māui caught Te Ika-a-Māui (the fish of Māui, known as the North Island), using his own blood and a giant fishing hook made from his grandmother’s jawbone. In an act of impatience, Māui’s older brothers (with whom he was fishing) cut up his catch, causing it to writhe in agony, creating mountains, cliffs, valleys and rivers, including the Waiapu. Since the time of Māui, the Ngāti Porou people have maintained their vital relationship with the Waiapu River, which is the lifeblood of their rohe (territory). 1 Consequently, fishing knowledge intertwines with their cosmologies. One method for reciting the complex, interwoven genealogies, or whakapapa, of this area involves the use of fishing metaphors, known as takiaho. Photographer Natalie Robertson quotes Sir Apirana Ngata: Aho, kaha. Literally a line, string or cord. In relation to a pedigree or genealogy, this is a figure that would naturally occur to a weaving, cord-making, net-making, fishing people . . . Takiaho is a cord on which fish and shellfish are strung, and also a line of descent. 2 Robertson and tohunga taiao restoration ecologist Graeme Atkins are of one aho (line), sharing whakapapa (genealogy) with the Ngāti Porou people. Long-time collaborators, they recently formed the collective AWA to create awareness — through art — of the contemporary plight of their ancestral river. 3 The clearance of native forest in the Waiapu’s headwaters for pastoralism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, combined with the floods and heavy rainfall common to the East Cape, have resulted in widespread erosion. As a result, the Waiapu is one of the most sediment-laden rivers in the world, carrying over one-sixth of the total sediment load for all rivers across Aotearoa. 4 Standing on the banks of the Waiapu River on a fine day, Robertson recently shared that the water looked clear. It’s only when you cast a fishing line or net or look closely at the water that the sickness becomes apparent. 5 When it rains, the water quickly discolours, turning a murky brown, often taking at least two weeks for the sediment to clear. For their installation in the 11th Asia Pacific Triennial — He Uru Mānuka, He Uru Kānuka 2024 — the AWA art collective revitalise cultural practices, such as net-making and building stone fish weirs, enabling members of their hapū (clan) and iwi (tribe) to reconnect with the river and its health. The collective aims ‘to “re-story” our lifeways, linking creative practices with ecology to perpetuate relationships to the lower reaches of the Waiapu’. 6 Their project is inspired by an ethnographic expedition, hosted by Ngāti Porou politician and scholar Sir Apirana Turupa Ngata (1874–1950), and his family, that took place in the lower Waiapu in 1923. Ngata and his colleague Te Rangihīroa (Sir Peter Buck) were passionate about keeping knowledge alive in the face of rapid change. Te Rangihīroa worked with Ngata’s father, Paratene, to create a pā tauremu (stone fish trap) and kupenga (woven fishing net) traditionally used in this area. Amongst the activities that the group undertook (sadly unknown to them at the time) was the last recorded catch of the upokororo ( Prototroctes oxyrhynchus ), the New Zealand grayling, once endemic to these waters. 7 James McDonald, of Wellington’s Dominion Museum, recorded film footage and captured photographs of this event, and these visual documents have recently been restored. As a photographer, Robertson views these images as taonga (treasures), stating: ‘The silver halide may hold a trace of the mauri, the spiritual life force of the Waiapu River. These photographs are mana taonga, treasures with immeasurable prestige’. 8 As Robertson elaborates: Because the whenua (land) and awa (river) are already ancestral, the taonga of the film — the images carved in celluloid — becomes a ‘speaking’ tī puna (ancestor) to me, in the same way as a carving of an ancestor. 9 One hundred years later, the AWA collective takes lessons from these taonga and the field journals that Te Rangihīroa recorded to recreate a pā tauremu (stone fish trap) in the Waiapu, assisted by members of the Ngāti Porou Raukūmara Pae Maunga Restoration Project. 10 Robertson and Atkins joined Ngāti Porou tohunga whakairo (master carver) Lionel Matenga to restore knowledge around the making of kupenga (woven fishing nets), teaching students at the local Ngata Memorial College the techniques for laboriously preparing and knotting harakeke (flax) into a four-and-half-metre-long kupenga (woven fishing net) to be used in the pā tauremu. The devastation caused by Cyclone Gabrielle, in February 2023, to parts of the North Island was extensive. AWA (ARTISTS FORWAIAPUACTION) The precipitation flooded the Waiapu to a height of eight metres, exacerbating existing erosion and closing roads, making large stretches of the river difficult to access. Ongoing rain continued to affect the Waiapu and, as a result, AWA caught no fish in their trap; however, an aho (line) had been established, connecting Abraham Karaka and other community members to pā tauremu building and customary biodiversity monitoring. As part of their project, AWA has since culturally mapped locations along the Waiapu River, pairing customary and contemporary technologies. The collective also addressed the threat of myrtle rust to mānuka and kānuka forests; myrtle rust is a fungal disease, originating in South America, that attacks the young leaves, shoots and stems of the plants of the Myrtaceae family. AWA created their pā tauremu using endemic species of mānuka brushwood ( Leptospermum tairawhitiense ) and kānuka stakes ( Kunzea ericoides ). 11 Walking through an anteroom featuring the historic black-and-white images of the 1923 Waiapu River expedition, Asia Pacific Triennial audiences encounter a large manta ray-shaped pā tauremu. It replicates the three pā tauremu constructed in the Waiapu River over the course of 2023 and early 2024 by Atkins, Robertson, Matenga and local community members, as they tried in vain to catch fish. Created from grey, flinty river rocks, kānuka stakes and mānuka brushwood, the wings of this trap are fitted with the more ethereal form of the harakeke kupenga (flax-woven fishing net) made by Matenga. The mouth of this net is lined with white quartz river rocks to attract fish. Projected behind the pā tauremu is video footage shot underwater by AWA collaborator Alex Monteith, in which a hand breaks the surface of the river, revealing deadly plumes of sediment that continue to choke the Waiapu and its species. Set amongst the mānuka groves and guided by the words of a little-known mōteatea (lament) known as ‘He Uru Mānuka’, the video takes us on a journey of wistful love, sadness and hope, as we witness iwi (tribe members) reconnecting with their river through the kupenga and pā tauremu. Lyricism can be found everywhere on the East Cape — in bird calls, in the rustling of leaves and branches, in the sounds of iwi talking and, of course, in their waiata (song). AWA member Maree Sheehan captures the complexity of this aural landscape in her haunting sound design. However, it is not until we look at the surrounding walls of the installation featuring Robertson’s photography that the audience understands where they ARTISTS+PROJECTS ASIAPACIFICTRIENNIAL 52 — 53