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These garden ornaments get the seal of approval from NZ. (Image: Tina Tiller)
These garden ornaments get the seal of approval from NZ. (Image: Tina Tiller)

SocietyJuly 26, 2021

What’s up with all those seal sculptures?

These garden ornaments get the seal of approval from NZ. (Image: Tina Tiller)
These garden ornaments get the seal of approval from NZ. (Image: Tina Tiller)

One woman’s love letter to an enduring feature of New Zealand front yards.

This story was first published on Ensemble.

There sits one, freshly painted, at the front door of a house in Titirangi. There’s one balancing a ball-shaped lamp, awkwardly placed above the cubicles in a public toilet in Whanganui. Another, with a jauntily placed ribbon tied around its neck, sits on a front porch in the Mount. And there’s another, paint flaking slightly, sitting next to an overgrown lawn; location unknown.

They are outdoor concrete sculptures in the form of seals; classic Kiwiana that pops up sporadically as you drive through New Zealand suburbia, sitting proudly on front lawns, decks, at entranceways.

They’re also the focus of “ornamental seal appreciation account” Kiss From a Seal (previously known as Concrete Dessert), a weird, delightful and extremely niche corner of Instagram that you should follow immediately.

 

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A post shared by Amy Wheeler (@kissfromaseal)

Auckland-based Amy Wheeler started the Instagram back in 2015, as a sort of art school distraction-slash-social media study of Auckland’s suburbs. At first she was photographing and sharing her own seal discoveries; after hitting pause for a few years while living overseas, today she receives submissions that she happily reshares (yes, there has been a Guinness seal submission all the way from Dublin).

“I was halfway through my visual arts degree and I was mostly painting, but then I decided to do this on the side. It didn’t translate well into anything I was working on in the studio as it was more about the process,” says Wheeler. “I had mentioned it to people, and they thought it was cool and I wanted somewhere to be able to document my findings where people could engage with the work.”

Okay but, why seals?

“They are such a bizarre thing to have become socio-cultural suburban paraphernalia,” she explains. “The seal sculptures just seemed rare and fun. I don’t have any intense interest in actual seals.”

 

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A post shared by Amy Wheeler (@kissfromaseal)

Growing up in Auckland’s Blockhouse Bay (deep West suburbia), Wheeler had noticed plenty of the ornamental seals in her neighbourhood: “An unexpected addition to the otherwise monotonous houses in my suburb”.

She cast the net wider – a combination of walking around and spending time on Google – and was surprised at how many she discovered.

“I started with the ones that I knew however I started to find more and more when I was actively looking for them. Once I knew which areas they were most prevalent in, I even spent time looking through streets on Google Maps. The areas I have found the most are Mount Roskill, Māngere, Onehunga and Te Atatu.”

But her original question remains unanswered: Why are, or were, they so popular? Where did they come from?‍

“Everybody is as puzzled as me,” says Wheeler. “I wrote letters to the people who owned the homes that I had found on Google maps a while ago; I wrote maybe 20 letters! I did get some replies – but the general response was that it was there when they bought or moved into the house and they didn’t know why it was there, but chose to keep it.”

 

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A post shared by Amy Wheeler (@kissfromaseal)

There is something charmingly off-beat about them; a unique and kitschy suburban nostalgia.

Last year Hawke’s Bay Today shared the sad news of a seal statue being stolen from an elderly woman’s home in Napier.

“I am so distressed at the theft,” she said. “It is concrete and very heavy – it would have taken two men to shift it and a van to take it away.

“My deceased husband loved the statue – I remember when he had help to lift it into position. It’s sad these scumbags would trample on my memories.

“It lived in the front rose garden, not far from my bedroom window, and I hope this can help me to track it down.”

In 2015 community website Number 8 Network (“news for the rural greenness north-east of Hamilton”) spoke to Dr Ian Duggan (a senior lecturer at Waikato University who published the academic paper ‘The cultural history of the garden gnome in New Zealand’) about gnomes, where he shared what he knew of the history of the ornamental garden seals.

“They don’t appear in any of the garden catalogues I have up until 1946 – then there is a big gap. If their popularity was related to Marineland, that didn’t open until 1965. But that does match up to when I can start finding pictures of them. There was one stolen in Levin in 1991, and it had been on their lawn for 18 years. There was a concrete seal in a new playground in Auckland in 1969. The Flutey’s from the pāua house had a couple around their pond for a time, which started to be developed in the 1960s. But from what I can tell, 1960s… There did seem to be true ‘art deco’ seals which appeared earlier, but were for indoor decoration.”

Today you can sometimes find vintage options on sale on Trade Me, or buy a new, unpainted version for $120. In 2017, Colleen Hawkes wrote about garden art and its inherent uncoolness, while acknowledging the power of nostalgia and renewed interest in mid-century design – predicting that the ceramic seals would make a comeback.

That nostalgia is part of the appeal of Wheeler’s page, which sits within the wider trend for localised throwback accounts on social media, like Facebook’s NZ Old Skool.

“I didn’t think as many people would find it interesting because it’s so niche, but it hits a certain demographic,” says Wheeler. “I think it unlocks some memories for people, and then they enjoy following the journey to see how many still exist. But through this project, one thing that has stood out to me is that they are a marker for the gentrification happening in Auckland.

“With all of the new developments happening around Auckland, I have seen that some of the houses that had seals in their gardens are now a construction site for a duplex. That’s another seal gone and it’s a shame. I know it is only a small observation but I believe their suburban charm won’t last much longer.”

If you have any knowledge around the origins of these ornamental seals and what they represent, or have seen any you’d like to submit, get in touch with Amy at @kissfromaseal

Keep going!
Kelly Hodgins, founder and director of Platform Interpreting NZ (Image: Supplied/Tina Tiller)
Kelly Hodgins, founder and director of Platform Interpreting NZ (Image: Supplied/Tina Tiller)

SocietyJuly 26, 2021

How an NZSL performance interpreter tells the whole story

Kelly Hodgins, founder and director of Platform Interpreting NZ (Image: Supplied/Tina Tiller)
Kelly Hodgins, founder and director of Platform Interpreting NZ (Image: Supplied/Tina Tiller)

Platform Interpreting NZ interprets performances for Aotearoa’s Deaf community. Its founder, Kelly Hodgins, tells Sam Brooks about the unique challenges and rewards that come with her work.

It was the second night of comedian Tim Minchin’s recent solo tour, but he wasn’t the only star onstage. For the entire two hours of his set he was joined by performance interpreter Kelly Hodgins, who translated Minchins’ material, matching him beat for beat. A few punters in the first rows watched her avidly. Elsewhere in the theatre, people tuned into her interpretation as well. She was performing as much as Minchin was, and was equally as compelling to watch. Occasionally, Minchin would throw the focus to her, like when she interpreted an especially graphic and visual line, in a way that a hearing audience, not fluent in NZSL, could not have expected. Words you couldn’t put into print have never seemed so lyrical.

This kind of performance is not an unusual one for Hodgins. She’s one of the most recognised sign language interpreters in the country, winning Interpreter of the Year at Deaf Aotearoa’s NZSL awards in 2014, which specifically acknowledged her work in establishing theatre interpreting in New Zealand. In 2019, she set up Platform Interpreting New Zealand (PINZ), an organisation that provides interpreting services for the arts, ranging from plays to stand-up comedy to musicals.

“What people don’t understand is that when we interpret [a performance], we interpret concept for concept,” says Hodgins. “We don’t do word for word.” The interpreters have to memorise everything in the performance, beyond the words. That includes musical notes, where the characters are placed on stage, and even when they breathe and pause. 

“We interpret characters in a show, so sometimes my characters will be conversing with one another and I’ll have to show that,” she explains.

Musicals are the biggest and most intensive projects for interpreters, with some shows taking up to 150 hours for Hodgins and her small team to translate and interpret. That’s 150 hours for the one or two performances that a company hires PINZ to do. To compare, a musical on the scale of The Sound of Music would take a company about 200 hours to rehearse, for a season that might last several weeks and dozens of performances.

Kelly Hodgins, director and founder of Platform Interpreting New Zealand. (Photo: Supplied)

Not only does the work require translating the musicality and the lyrics, there are aspects that her team has to translate almost from scratch. Humour is especially difficult, says Hodgkins. “Sometimes mainstream humour relies on sound, plays on words and puns, so conveying that is really difficult. Even if you use rhyme, like cat, bat and sat. That rhymes in English, but in sign language that’s not a rhyme at all, so we have to find equivalents.”

She gives an example of a tongue twister from Singin’ in the Rain that her team had to translate (Moses supposes his toeses are roses, because Moses supposes his toeses to be.)  “For language features such as phenomes – the smallest parts of sound that create words – the NZSL equivalent is things like handshapes, movement, orientation and location. If you tweak one of those, it gives you your rhyme.”

“For the tongue twister, we ended up using a particular handshape by changing the location and movement, but at certain times, to create the NZSL-equivalent rhyme.” Once they had the rhyming sorted, it then had to be synchronised to the two-minute song. Overall, Hodgins says it took around two and a half weeks to get the song perfect. (Again, for comparison, a company might spend two days’ worth of rehearsal on a song before moving on.)

Even non-musical plays present their own set of difficulties. Hodgins recently interpreted the Auckland Theatre Company production of The Life of Galileo, a two-and-a-half-hour production with 15 actors. Due to the intricacies of the astronomy that the play revolves around, she ended up having to do essentially double the translation. “When you’re talking about astronomy, the grammatical structure of English is linear, but you’re trying to transfer that into a visual three-dimensional language, and you have to be really expert at being able to place things in space, which is not something you can just easily learn overnight.”

Hodgkins regularly works with a group of interpreters she has handpicked and helped to train. The kind of skill it takes to interpret live performance isn’t something that is taught at university, where interpreters typically learn the language, the ethics, and the specific skills involved with community or educational interpreting. What they don’t get taught is musicality, or the kind of confidence that it takes to get on a stage alongside performers. 

“All of the interpreters that work for Platform Interpreting NZ as performance interpreters know it’s not about us at the end of the day,” says Hodgins. “It’s about actually being that vessel for the artist to connect with a Deaf audience.”

Kirsty Hardwicke, the festival and events producer of the New Zealand International Comedy Festival, works with PINZ regularly, and says Hodgins is extremely generous with her time and knowledge. “We send her the programme and she makes recommendations on shows that will work well and be of interest to the Deaf community. She then handles the promotion of the shows and audience outreach, and then the actual interpreting on the night.”

The cast of the Haka Party Incident, a show also interpreted by PINZ (Photo: Andi Crown)

Natasha Pearce, the head of strategy at Auckland Theatre Company, specifically mentions The Haka Party Incident, a verbatim show with seven actors performing 38 different characters, differentiated only by the actor’s voice or posture, with some characters being performed for only one or two lines. That’s an immense challenge by itself, but even more challenging? The show ran for an interval-free two hours. Pearce says, “Kelly was very focused on ensuring the audience would be able to follow the character transitions easily, incorporating some of the actor’s body language into the interpretation to signify a character. Kelly also talked to patrons ahead of the performance, explaining what verbatim theatre was so they were prepared for the style of delivery.”

In almost every other facet of life, Deaf people have access to interpreters, be it a GP appointment, an employment meeting or a funeral. “But how much of that is giving you endorphins and happiness and enjoyment? It’s not.” Hodgins explains that her work is not just about each individual show, but about allowing the Deaf community to be invited into the arts space. “There’s so much more involved with it. You go to socialise with your friends, you go to be educated. Sometimes it’s not about being entertained – it’s about receiving information in a way that it can’t be found anywhere else outside the arts.” 

Hodgins recalls an exchange following her interpretation of a performance of The Sound of Music. A woman came up to her and told her that watching The Sound of Music movie had been a family tradition every year, but she couldn’t hear all the conversations in it, and there was no captioning. “She said, ‘It was fabulous to watch the musical. I got the whole story for the first time in my life, and I’m how old?’”

That shows the importance of the work that PINZ does. It’s not just about providing access, about plonking an interpreter onstage and letting them do it live. It’s not even just about telling the story. It’s about providing the space for Deaf audiences to engage with the whole story, as much as any other audience can.