CONTEMPORARY HUMTo start off, I thought it would be good to ask how you were chosen to be featured in the Venice Biennale. 

HUMThe work that's in the Venice Biennale is called Waipuna. How was that specific work chosen? 

HUMWhen did you finally find out that your work was going to Venice?

HUMWell, it all ended up in the right place, which is good! 

HUMWaipuna was made in 1978. What were driving your interests when you made that painting? 

It always intrigued me, because when I looked at the [painted] kōwhaiwhai, which are repeat patterns, a design unit that was repeated, they're quite simple in comparison to what kōwhaiwhai is as a carved art form on paddles and on taurapa (stern posts) of canoes, the waka. I thought, “Why is it like that?” But, in my way of considering it, it actually works so well, because it allows the other works to breathe, otherwise it would have been too over-the-top, I felt. I wondered why they had reduced it to this simplified form, when it could be a lot more elaborate than that, so I thought, “I need to find out about this.” I decided to go into kōwhaiwhai as a painting on its own that could hang on the wall. I went overboard and added every colour and every koru (spiral based on the shape on unfurling fern frond) going in all directions, because I was enjoying the fact that I had the freedom to play with this design element of the koru, that iconic curvilinear form for us. I went everywhere with it. I put them in circles and squares, and I tried out all the forms, because I liked what it was challenging me to do. Eventually, [with] the colour palette, the way it could work, the way the lines connect, it still felt [like] an art form that attended to what makes good art, the construct of any art form, regardless of the culture. That's how I was working with kōwhaiwhai. 

SAI actually don't do that. I don’t consider it “abstraction”. For us, it's a form that we attend to, because it has no relation to a real form, an identifiable form. It used to amuse me at different times over the years that critics would look at the work and then go into all these interpretations of what it was. And I was like, “No, it's not. It's nothing to do with that.” I thought, “Are you trying to relate [the work] to your concept of good art or what art is to justify the work that I'm doing? Can't it be just what it is?” For me, it was an element of a requirement for meeting house. It had to be there. It had a reason to connect the stories between the tāhuhu, which is the main beam that runs down the length of the meeting house. It had its purpose. I look at it, and I think: "I can make these forms change and relate." I'm still working on that. I’ve gone from the design to just looking at shapes that relate to the colour space. It's an ongoing enjoyment of engaging in the art form for myself now. 

SAIt was through the Ministry of Education at the time. We were working on introducing Māori art into the school syllabus. We were brought together as art educators, as art specialists, to discuss a means of attending to art in schools, where it may have been seen as an area of tapu (to be sacred, prohibited, restricted, set apart). We went and said, “What are we going to do when our culture often says this cannot be done by women; this can't be done.” Pine Taiapa, one of the people that influenced us hugely, made a decision, because he wanted it to happen. He said, “We will exempt schools from being tapu. They can do anything. They're out of the area of knowing about it.” Tapu only affects you if you deliberately cross what you know something that you're not meant to do. Young people don't have that, so it allows them that licence to engage. With our first set of booklets that went out to schools, we had images of young non-Māori girls doing carving, you know. It was also a means to ensure that teachers weren't going, “This is not our culture. We don't know how to do this.” The answer to them was always, “You're a teacher. You're required to follow the syllabus. It's laid out here how to do it, and so you need to do it. If you want to get your grades as a teacher, then you have to attend to the requirements of the syllabus.” It was a real battle in those early years. 

That's what Fred and Selwyn were a part of, because they were in the secondary [schools] area. Selwyn was up north, and he worked with the community; Fred was in the city, so he had that type of background. There were a whole lot of us, [including] Para[tene] Matchitt and Cliff [Whiting]. We became part of a team that regularly got together, enjoyed each other's company. Fred became a real friend. He has stunning work, his huge sculptural works, and he's still creating them; he's still producing solo exhibitions on his own. We enjoy joking about things like that: “We'll try and put another tube in somewhere to keep us going so that we can attend to some of the things that we need to do.” It's a wonderful relationship with Fred and was with Selwyn as well.

SAI feel really pleased. As you say, tuākana-tēina: it's tika, it’s correct, for things Māori, to support each other when asked. It's one of those things. I'll say, and everyone says this, “Once you're a student of mine, you're a student forever. I don't care how old you get.” Because, you want to always be there to support them. They can come and ask you, and we know that we can give them the support we should. Being part of that, it's natural for us. [For example,] when we go to do a meeting house, there's so many people involved, the weavers [etc.], and the locals have to be part of that, because you can't bring in experts. You have to learn on the job, virtually. The other thing is that, the expert, or tohunga, of a particular discipline, for some, they initially ensure that when they decide to cease being the person that's identified as the tohunga of that discipline that they then pass it on, and they pass on the mantle to somebody else with the knowledge that those ones also realise that [at] a certain time, they [will also] pass the mantle on. But you're always there, for each of us, as a person that can be asked for advice, knowing that you’ll give it. It’s great, the way that we’re all together.

HUMYou’ve also exhibited extensively in international exhibitions throughout your career, but this is the first time you're exhibiting in the Venice Biennale. How does the experience of being in the Biennale compare to other experiences you've had exhibiting overseas?

HUMBecause there was no national pavilion for New Zealand this year, it was quite a special year in terms of New Zealand's participation in the Biennale. How have you found that process of supporting your work to be shown in the Biennale without the structure of a pavilion? Was Creative New Zealand quite involved with supporting your work, or were you having to go to the Biennale or find resources on your own to get your work over there? 

HUMIn terms of the cost of getting your work to the Biennale, was that covered by Creative New Zealand?

HUMOff it goes! 

HUMIt’ll come back eventually!

I wanted to get your thoughts on whether you think the international reception or recognition of Māori art has changed or whether you've seen it change throughout your career.

[With] these overseas opportunities, we have to find out what is going to be of positive value from the experience. In the early days, when we first started out with contemporary Māori art, and we used to exhibit on marae (courtyard in front of the wharenui; often used to include the complex of buildings around the marae), we had this New Zealand Māori Writers and Artists Committee that used to have a gathering every year, just to get together and hang out. From that, we realised that to bring our art into the mainstream, [when] we were asked by a couple of galleries [whether we] would like to put in some work, they would select it and put it into the exhibition. We said, “If you want us to be there, we'll send you the works, and you put it in. If you don't, don't ask us. We don't want somebody else to select our work”. 

There has always been this support that we would give. In those early exhibitions, to our Māori artists, we would say, “If we ask for artworks for an exhibition, we will commit ourselves to supporting you regardless of what it is. You just had to ask.” So, we did that. One of our first ones was in Hamilton. The only trouble with our crew [was] you sent them artworks. You never got them back. They just kept them. But, it was fine because it was the crew, so we said, “Just remember, you owe me a painting!” But, it was that initial commitment that enabled us to take a punt on something and say, “Yeah, we'll put on an exhibition.” Then we just rang everybody up, and they knew they were committed to offering work, and they did. It was a good way for us to begin. 

The other thing is, during that time, contemporary Māori art was really new, and it wasn't seen very much. I remember we had a large exhibition down on the wharf in Wellington—Shed 11, I think it was. We went and we had to scrape the floor. There were bolts in the floor, but we did it to put on this fairly large show. I remember we were there, and this European woman came in. She came up to me, and she said, “I'm really angry.” And she looked angry, and then she said, “How dare you keep this work from us?” So, in a way, it was a backhanded compliment. She said, “you're denying us the means to share.” It was like we didn't want the non-Māori to see it. I don't know what her [exact] reason [was], but it made me think, “Okay, perhaps we do need to be mindful of that type of person's reaction to contemporary Māori artwork.” Because, it wasn't known. It wasn't seen at that time. 

SAI think that they would firstly recognise that there is a reason for us being there as part of the Indigenous component; that they would look at the different disciplines, look at the differences, but also look at it and say, “Is this good sculptural work? Is this good composition and [are there good] colour connections in these artworks?” I'm hoping they will feel something about the work at least, [and] don't waste their time by just walking past. If you're going to go there, you might as well try and understand the things that have been put in front of you, because there's a reason for it.

For us, it's there to understand something about Māori. Even if they don't understand it, that’s [the] reason why we're there. If they do that, then I’ll say, “They're trying to engage, and okay, that's all we can do.”

SAWhen you say “strong representation”, it's not representation that was chosen by us. It was actually chosen by a foreigner, if we're talking about the theme of this [exhibition]. He (Pedrosa) is, obviously, a stunning guy, very supportive of everything, but I couldn't help but feel a bit quirky and think, “Are we still being colonised here? We can't even choose our own work.” We should be the ones to say what goes there, and it goes because it's strong, [not because] somebody else is telling us [the works are] going because they feel it's strong. I thought, “We've got to get something from this.” We need to look at every aspect and then question [them], so that we are prepared as a culture to show a strength and be part of the organisations at the decision-making level, so that we can make these offerings and have them accepted, because we always say to people, when we exhibit in galleries, “Wouldn't you want to see it as we view our own art, rather than for people to see it as you view the artwork?” You know, [with] the paintings all spread out, whereas we like chocka. Everything goes in together, because we're comfortable with it. See it as we see it, and you'll have a better understanding of who we are.

I think everything is a means of making your own decisions and pathways. I hope that the young ones that are there are the ones that are going to be making those decisions. I think they need to see it as their role in the generation they are in, with the idea of what's going to be important to the [next] generation as we go on.