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ArtJuly 27, 2019

The woman reviving the art of Māori Aute

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Artist Nikau Hindin is reviving a contemporary form of Māori art that was largely lost after the extinction of the aute plant in Aotearoa. 

Ngāpuhi and Te Rarawa artist Nikau Hindin has recently been taught by ancestors in Hawai’i the skills of beating tapa or barkcloth, reviving as contemporary form a Māori art largely lost after the extinction of the aute plant in Aotearoa. Aute was introduced to Aotearoa by Māori from the Pacific.

Photo: Sait Akkirman

What do you like to have around you in the studio?

I am a cloth maker. I strip the bark from the aute, the paper mulberry tree, peel off the outer park, scrape and beat the inner sap. I paint star maps using kōkōwai, red earth. I don’t need much. Just an airtight bucket, my wooden tools, pigment and lots of dried aute. I hope to have piles of aute one day but that will take a long time and a lot of work. Plants need time to grow.

Photo: Sait Akkirman

What are your tools and materials and where do you source them from?

Initially I made my tools, because you can’t exactly buy them in a shop. I looked at the old Māori tapa beaters at the Auckland Museum and sort of went from there. My first beater I made traditionally, with an adze, hoanga (a slab of sand stone), pipi shells and shark teeth to carve the grooves (my fingers were numb for a week). This is still my favourite beater today. It is made from pohutukawa. The hardest thing is acquiring hard woods. I’m lucky that my Kumu’s (teacher) brother in Hawai’i is probably one of the best wood craftsmen on the island (I’m biased), Sol Apio. He made this kua (anvil). It is made from milo and it is very hard. I brought it back from Hawai’i in my suitcase. It’s heavy too.

Photo: Sait Akkirman
Photo: Sait Akkirman

What’s the process of aute making, which we see here?

This piece I am scraping has already been harvested from the tree. This is the inner sap and it wraps around the inner stalk. It isn’t very wide now but once I beat it the fibres expand and it becomes much wider.

I then soak them to soften the fibres. Aute has very special qualities that make it self adhesive. I can layer a number of plants and beat them together to make bigger pieces and also to cover the natural pores (holes). Every island has different processes and even in Hawai’i individual makers have different methods. I’ve finally figured out what works for me but not without help. Verna Takashima, Kaliko Spencer and Uncle Wes Sen they have all been crucial in my learning and understanding of the fibre. The biggest teacher is the plant and I’m still learning.

Photo: Sait Akkirman

And what do the patterns signify?

The lineage of my patterns come from tukutuku and tāniko. I do a lot of research and calculations for every star map I create. I did a series that documented what time the stars rise and set during Rākau Nui (full moon), over six moon cycles. This helped me to understand the seasonal changes of the stars and visually see it with pattern. 

I like the idea that the composition is pre-determined by the times stars rise and set. This is knowledge our ancestors used to navigate to Aotearoa.  Our modern navigators on board the waka Hokule’a, Haunui and many others need to have a clear picture of where all the stars are, above and below the horizon, to find direction.

If we wanted to realign ourselves with the timing of the environment, and the natural timing of our own internal environment we would have to be in synch with the Maramataka and then the next step is knowing the different stars which signify each moon cycle. I’m on a journey to understand how it all works. No doubt it will take me a life time. I use my paintings to help me memorise this knowledge. It takes such a long time to make the cloth. I think it should take equal time and care to make the marks on it.

Photo: Sait Akkirman

We met you demonstrating aute making at the Auckland Art Fair – how important is passing the knowledge forward?

People are usually as surprised as I was to find out Māori also made tapa cloth. I started learning about aute in 2013 and it has taken till now to become comfortable with the process, gather the resources required to make it and also build relationships with knowledge holders. It is not just about making nice art objects, it is actually about understanding the right protocols and pathways to go about making.

I want to show people the incredible resources available in our environment, if only we knew how to unlock them. Eventually we are going to have to know how to use all the plants the way climate change is going. Passing this kind of knowledge forward is equally as important to me as passing forward the process of making aute.

Photo: Sait Akkirman

Nikau Hindin (Te Rarawa, Ngāpuhi) completed her BA/BFA (Hons) at The University of Auckland. She started her Masters at the University of Hawai’i and is currently finishing it at Toihoukura in Turanga Nui a Kiwa, Gisborne. Nikau uses her Instagram to transmit knowledge and information about aute and her star maps. She is part of the collective Kauwaka, an online space which centres wāhine Māori perspectives. She has a show coming up in Wellington August 29 at Millers O’Brien and is part of Tākiri at the Maritime Museum in Auckland in October. 

Names Held in Our Mouths runs until 18 August at Te Uru Waitakere Contemporary Gallery.

Sait Akkirman provides a fascinating account of the Auckland gallery scene documenting exhibition openings and providing exhibition listings at artdiary.co.nz.

In the Studio is inspired in part by Jim and Mary Barr’s Over the Net Studio visit series with New Zealand artists.  

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14. Frances Hodgkins; Houses and Outhouses, Purbeck; c1938

ArtJuly 24, 2019

The Katherine Mansfield of paint: Frances Hodgkins’ European Journeys, reviewed

14. Frances Hodgkins; Houses and Outhouses, Purbeck; c1938

Francis McWhannell goes on a grand tour of escapism, adventure and parochialism with our quintessential expatriate artist, Frances Hodgkins, at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.

Few artists from Aotearoa deliver escapism like Frances Hodgkins (1869–1947). She has a gift for teasing out the transcendent in the world about her. An early watercolour depicts a Marseille so drenched in sun that balcony railings dissolve and women in no-nonsense skirts fuse together in the shadows. A late oil titled Zipp (1945) emphasises texture and colour so intensely that its sartorial reference points become near-impossible to pin down. Humdrum is a state of mind, and one Hodgkins has no interest in inciting. For this reason, she is loved in this place and shows like Frances Hodgkins: European Journeys get off the ground.

This wasn’t always so. In 1901, Hodgkins travelled to Europe, where she would remain, with few interruptions, for the rest of her life. As her reputation grew there, it shrank here. At her funeral, her friend David Brynley found himself recalling “wistful remarks” she had made: “I would have liked a home and children … New Zealand is at last beginning to recognise me.” The small-mindedness that had no doubt encouraged her to leave in the first place proved tenacious. However, Hodgkins had her advocates, who helped see to it that she was embraced as our quintessential expatriate, the Katherine Mansfield of paint.

Frances Hodgkins, Berries and Laurel, circa 1930, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, purchased with funds from the William James Jobson Trust, 1982.

While Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki has long been an institutional champion, European Journeys represents an exceptionally emphatic plug. Coinciding with Hodgkins’ 150th birthday, it’s part of a suite of projects driven by the tireless Mary Kisler, including two books and an online catalogue raisonné. The show is the biggest in years anywhere. Entry is ticketed, a curious situation given that the display draws heavily on the house collection. But it’s a luxe affair, and not low on appeal. Each time I’ve visited, the space has been humming. And while the crowds haven’t exactly been diverse, they have been lingering.

The exhibition confines itself to works produced in and around Europe. In passing over Hodgkins’ Aotearoa output, it continues something of a tradition (Kisler’s Leitmotif from 2005 did the same). Yet it reshapes the mould in other ways. Most notably, it plays up Hodgkins’ mobility. Largely based in Britain, she got around within that country, also visiting Morocco and various parts of continental Europe. European Journeys follows her from place to place in a broadly chronological fashion, highlighting her fascination with new locales, and giving a solid sense of her artistic trajectory.

Frances Hodgkins, Chairs and Pots, circa 1938, National Galleries of Scotland. Bequeathed by Miss Elizabeth Watt 1989.

The opening two rooms centre on works in Hodgkins’ initial medium, watercolour. A good number are from the first decade of the 20th century, a seldom-explored period in her career. There are strong examples. With its tendrilous lines, unpigmented expanses, and deft splashes of colour, Untitled [Woman with a Mirror] (c. 1912) wins on formal adventurousness and emotional impact. Flimsier and repetitious pieces, however, diminish the ensemble. I’d have liked to see a couple of even earlier works created in Aotearoa. In particular, one of Hodgkins’ images of Māori women would have made an interesting comparison with later portraits.

European Journeys is further atypical in featuring numerous pieces by Hodgkins’ European contemporaries (or near contemporaries). A few are instructive. Despite being out of step in scale and medium, a large Frank Brangwyn oil from 1913 resonates intensely with an adjacent Hodgkins watercolour from 1906, sharing both its location, Avignon, and its tentative modernity. The inclusion of a Claude Monet is defensible, because Hodgkins was influenced by Impressionism. The trotting out of the gallery’s much-shown Edgar Degas dancer feels forced indeed.

Frances Hodgkins, Cassis, circa 1920-circa 1921, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, purchased 1972.

Deeper into the exhibition, a 1928 portrait of Hodgkins by Cedric Morris points to the intellectual circles in which she was moving (reading between the lines, these took in a fair few feminists and queer people). A true cracker of a painting by Paul Nash, Landscape of Bleached Objects (c. 1934), is delightfully in sympathy with her practice. However, the success rate remains mixed. A lithograph by Raoul Dufy is not irrelevant, but it scrapes the bottom of the collection barrel. Filtering out such extraneous pieces would have made the presentation punchier.

As it is, European Journeys is a lot to absorb. The latter rooms – those containing Hodgkins’ most ardently experimental and arguably finest pictures – are tightly packed. Owing to the show’s strict linearity (a sign stops you from entering through the gift shop), they also come at the end of a content marathon. In addition to the many works, there are scores of wall texts bursting with details about the subjects depicted and more tangential matters (for instance, the fact that Hodgkins and Duncan Grant had a common friend who made brandied cherries). Not for the first time at Toi o Tāmaki, I yearn for a good, crisp audio guide to free up my eyes.

Frances Hodgkins, Lancashire Family, 1927, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, purchased 1963.

Reflecting on the show as a whole, I find myself unconvinced by the emphasis on place and travel. Hung together, paintings of Ibiza do signal Hodgkins’ ability to take up and make her own the specificities of her surroundings (“like a fish on the bottom of the sea”, as her artist-friend John Piper put it). A photograph of a grinning Hodgkins striding across a bridge does an excellent job of encapsulating her position as an independent woman, tripping round Europe with a mixture of curiosity and canniness. However, I can’t shake the sense that European Journeys works best when least preoccupied with seductive locations and contextual titbits.

Areas of the exhibition in which formal or otherwise artistic concerns come to the fore really sing. The first room to captivate me every time I visit features two types of work that were especially fertile for Hodgkins: moody graphic works, such as Village Scene, Peaslake from 1929, and paintings colliding landscape and still life elements, such as Landscape with Still Life from about a year later (fancifully, I keep thinking of Venetian paintings of the Madonna and child out of doors, except with the holy figures transubstantiated into vases). Either type could happily hold a room of its own.

Frances Hodgkins, Evening, 1932-1933, courtesy of Catherine and Martin Spencer, Auckland.

I suspect that the notion of ‘European journeys’ would have worked better demoted to sub-theme status. Although I love printed matter and appreciate its scene-setting power, the inclusion of large numbers of travel guides and postcards with no direct connection to Hodgkins strikes a bung note. I dare say there’s a logic to prodding visitors of a certain age or income bracket into remembering their own first European adventure. But there is also – somewhat ironically – a parochial quality to the framing, which plays on a lingering cultural cringe: Europe is where the real art happens.

That said, every frame has its limitations, and it’s not easy to deal with the relationship between Hodgkins and Europe. Part of her significance does lie in the fact that she learned from European art in the flesh, unlike so many other New Zealanders of her day, who had to settle for reproductions. As European Journeys notes, she did become “an important figure within British Modernism”. Yet, for all her successes overseas during her lifetime, this grand show tours to Dunedin, not to London.

Frances Hodgkins, E H McCormick Archive of Frances Hodgkins Photographs, Courtesy of E H McCormick Research Library Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.

Is Hodgkins overdue greater attention in her adopted home? While European Journeys does not make that argument explicitly, it does hint. Perhaps being her champion tomorrow will mean teaming up with a British institution, creating a smaller exhibition with choicer works by Hodgkins and fellow modernists. Or perhaps it will mean spending more time unpacking the ways she has influenced art in this country, whether through friendships or by example.

The latter approach is already suggested at Toi o Tāmaki by 19 Gallery: Relocating Frances Hodgkins, a miniature showroom stocked with pieces by 19 local artists. The display imitates a 1934 example, the ‘34 Gallery’, for which Hodgkins made two wee pictures. It collides two trendy but worthy curatorial tactics: the commissioning of new response works and the restaging of old exhibitions. Situated downstairs from European Journeys, 19 Gallery takes on an air of radicalism, neatly encapsulating the adventurousness of Hodgkins in her moment and her legacy in the present.

Hodgkins has not merely been recognised in Aotearoa. She has children.

Frances Hodgkins: European Journeys runs until 1 September at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.

For more listings of current art exhibitions across Aotearoa go to ArtNow.NZ