Setting the house in order
In this chapter the significance of tataitanga for arranging and ordering is extended to capture the genealogical sense of tataitanga not only as a line of ancestry but especially as a line of continuity. It represents a continuum in which one form of artistic expression gives rise to another and customary models are perpetuated or amended in trans-cultural interlocutions. As Robyn Kahukiwa has commented
‘I have been told that figurative painting is not part of Maori culture. Some feel I’m breaking away. I’m not. Cliff Whiting and Para Matchitt pioneered the contemporary movement 30 years ago. My artistic training has been influenced by the West. And anyway, art has to change to develop. If it’s left the way it is, it will die. There’s still a place for traditional art in the meeting house for example, but to say things about Maori now, I’ve got to use today’s medium. It’s a perfectly viable thing to do’.328
While there have been attempts to eradicate the trans-cultural interlocution as impure or foreign it is part of the reality of cultures in conjunction.329 For much of the 20th century there remained two poles of artistic expression within the context of the marae environment – customary and non-customary. The incorporation of European inspired imagery from the 1870s through to the 1920s can be considered trans-cultural. The use of European images, techniques and tools resulted in forms that were non-customary within the context of the period. It was not until the 1970s that a distinctive trans-customary art form, fusing customary forms with modernism, became acceptable within the whare kai. This development will be examined in Chapter Eight.330 At this time, a number of the most ardent innovators of trans-cultural art practice promoted the marae as the rightful place for Maori art education.331 This form of practice owes its manifestation to a
328
Brito, T. (1981). Pacific Way. Auckland: Air New Zealand. p. 13. Figurative painting within the marae context may be traced back to the 1840s with a form based on kowhaiwhai appearing on the rafters of Te Hau ki Turanga in the Poverty Bay region in 1843 with western inspired naturalistic form appearing in Tamatekapua at Ohinemutu in 1872 and Te Tokaanganui a Noho at Te Kuiti in 1873. 329
See Neich’s discussion on the imposed ‘veil of orthodoxy’ by Charles Nelson and Augustus Hamilton on the Rotorua carvers in the 19th century that led to the carving out of ‘European-style boots’. Neich, R. (2001). Carved Histories Rotorua Ngati Tarawhai Carving. Auckland: Auckland University Press. pp. 204.
330
Para Matchitt and Cliff Whiting were involved in the painting of the dining room at Whangaparaoa in 1973 assisted by the local community. The invitation to complete this project and to paint the meeting house came during the inaugural meeting of a group of artists and writers who would form the Maori Artists and Writers Society. In 1975 Para Matchitt completed a mixed media mural Te Kaweketanga o Turongo raua ko Mahinarangi for the Kimiora dining room at Turangawaewae which involved the local community, visiting art advisors and some educational institutions.
331
For Whiting the marae is the proper place for Maori arts and crafts today ‘On the marae the people gather and share their thoughts through speeches, haka and action songs, singing and art. There on the marae the significance of Maori art is made apparent. There a whole network of significance is sewn together by social relationships and art can make the ties manifest. This inter-relationship of art with the people was revived by Sir Apirana Ngata who revived and carried on earlier traditions. People had a yearning for an answer to their problems and his answer was the building and decoration of meeting houses. Today there are new yearnings and new needs. How can these needs be met?’
For Matchitt the marae are where the ‘action is; where it is happening; where people live. The only community that’s organised for this type of creative work at the moment is the marae. The school is
collusion of a modernist aesthetic and customary Maori tradition in which customary forms were simplified anatomically and customary patterns from the woven arts and painting were reconfigured two and three dimensionally using western media and techniques. The imprint of cultural form and pattern generated work that maintained a visual empathy with 19th century customary tribal carving, lattice work and painting rather than visual correspondence.
Change has always been part of tribal visual culture even in the 18th and 19th centuries as exemplified in the adaptation of the relationship between primary and subsidiary figure in the Pourewa Island poupou (1769) and the poupou in Porourangi whare nui (1888) at Waiomatatini where subsidiary figures migrate from between the legs to the upper body of emasculated ancestors. This chapter will demonstrate that there is an intimate relationship between the Rawheoro style of 1769 and the Tukaki (Whanau a Apanui) style of 1780 and Rukupo (Turanga) style of 1842until naturalism as trans-cultural practice runs rampant in Te Mana o Turanga at Manutuke in 1882 and Rongomaianiwaniwa at Tikitiki c. 1890.332
Chapter Six is prefaced by a consideration of the continuum of customary art in which 19th century models constitute a point of reference for cultural relativity within the context of the marae environment.
In Chapter Two it was argued that whakapapa is important for the concept of
tataitanga that pervades the thesis because carvers are linked through whakapapa across time and space. It was acknowledged that this study is not concerned with assessing the quality of a particular style or style as expression. Instead, it concentrates on form to access the configuration of features or traits that separate an individual carver from a group of carvers, or a group of carvers from another group. In the context of this chapter, form, in a stylistic sense, relates specifically to carved form and pattern, their composition and execution, not as expression, but as technique. Kubler’s theory of art as formal sequence is acknowledged as pertinent. In Chapter Two, semiology was recognised as a valid method for stylistic analysis because its two-level hierarchy of a social langue (language) and individualised parole (speech) enabling individual variations in speech to be studied as part of a continuing but changing system. Semiology is also useful as a tool for classifying signifiers to the extent that it provides an axial system enabling a commutation test to be undertaken. It was proposed that whakapapa as a principle extended to terms in tribal carving allowing these forms to be tabulated to identify significant relationships in a commutation test. It was also conceded that the value of semiology relates to its premise that language does not reflect reality but constitutes reality within the cultural context of its derivation. An important tenet of semiology is that there is no universal objective way of perceiving or making sense of an objective, empiricist reality except through the codes
the other one where it could happen. I don't mind which way we start so long as we start!’ Department of Education. (1978). Art in Schools The New Zealand Experience, Wellington: E. C. Keating. pp. 286, 296).
332
Uawa is the original name for Tolaga Bay on the East Coast. The Iwirakau style is named after a Ngati Porou ancestor who visited the Rawheoro whare wananga (school of learning) with Tukaki of Te Whanau a Apanui from the East Cape. Turanga is the Maori name for Gisborne.
of one’s culture. In this respect semiology is useful as a tool for classifying signifiers enabling axial relationships in a commutation test in which meaning is merely an index of the signifier. It was proposed that intrinsic insight, an accumulated artistic sensibility, offered a critical tool to complement stylistic analysis as formal sequence and semiology to gain an intimate understanding of tribal carving.
The section entitled Te tataitanga Pitau-a-Manaia is a critique of Neich’s proposition that the Te Pitau-a-Manaia does not have a head. A further aim is to justify intrinsic perception as a valid and critical perceptual tool for analysis of tribal carving and painting. In the process a tripartite convention for kowhaiwhai is proposed in which the manawa line is either explicit, implicit or absent, and Neich’s significant pattern range of pitau, kape and combination of the two is extended to include the rauru (spiral). The critique also proffers 1842 rather than 1849 as the earliest date for the development of Te Pitau-a- Manaia, and presents a diagrammatic illustration that clearly demonstrates that Te Pitau- a-Manaia has a head.
In Te tataitanga taowaru, the taowaru is reviewed within the context of tribal tradition and literary interpretations. The taowaru as carved relief is assessed in terms of its temporal application to canoes, storehouses and meeting houses and its variable interpretation as pattern and form. It is proposed that the taowaru is synonymous with the taratara a kae surface pattern in carving rather than the ‘scraped spear motif’ because the latter is composed of manaia linking significant parts of the anatomy. Similarly, a 20th century version that places the taowaru in the context of tiki with a total absence of manaia is viewed as implausible.
In the section on Te tataitanga taratara a kae, the taratara a kae pattern is reviewed against relevant literary interpretations. It is proposed that the taratara a kai variant may be the result of a phonetic transcribing of kae as kai that subsequently led to a literal translation as peaks of food. A cosmo-genealogical rationale is proffered as more culturally appropriate. It is further proposed that the development of the taratara a kae is associated with the Rawheoro School of carving.
In Te tataitanga Pakake, the whale motif as a canoe figurehead and storehouse bargeboard motif is considered as a trans-contextual denotative transfer from canoe to storehouse and as statement of mana whenua. This is followed by consideration of the limited corpus that constitutes the Rawheoro style and its continuity in the Turanga style where design traits and conventions are maintained.
In Nga mo mo whakairo, Simmons’s classification of tribal carving into the ‘serpentine’ and ‘square’ styles is critiqued against other classificatory models. It is argued the Simmons system is one based on a western formalist tradition that overlooks culturally relevant nomenclature, architectural relativity and the cultural function of architectural structures. It is proposed that the change from the ‘serpentine’ to the ‘square’ style (Simmons’s nomenclature) was the result of a cultural reassessment of architectural and sculptural processes in terms of the function of the storehouse and chief’s house. It is
argued that the functionality of architectural members was translated conceptually from the pataka to the whare nui prioritising inside and outside relative to tribal deity.
In Te tataitanga Rawheoro, a corpus of carvings is contextualised against the Rawheoro style. It is proposed that the Rawheoro style introduces the essential visual vocabulary that will feature throughout the Bay of Plenty and East Coast regions.
In Te tataitanga Maraenui, Simmons’s allocation of three storehouses to Te Whanau a Apanui, Ngati Porou and Rongowhakaata is critiqued. It is argued that there is a misplacement of two of the carvings because of stylistic anomalies. In spite of the anomalies, the corpus does present an intermediary stylistic development from the Rawheoro style into the Turanga style of the mid 19th century and the late 19th century Iwirakau style.333
As outlined in Chapter Two a tataitanga whakairo framework is appropriate for ‘putting whakairo in order’ because it en-frames stylistic analysis as formative sequence, semiology and intrinsic perception informed by experience as a practitioner in art. It is the contention of this chapter that ‘finer distinctions and more fragmentation’ can be achieved through intrinsic perception.334 Neich’s analysis of the kowhaiwhai pattern Te Pitau-a-Manaia is critiqued as a justification for intrinsic perception. This critique is necessary because subsequent editions of Neich’s publication of Painted Histories maintain his original contention that Te Pitau-a-Manaia does not have a head.
Te tataitanga o Te Pitau-a-Manaia: the Pitau-a-Manaia interpreted
The Ngati Porou master carver Pakariki Harrison, in his analysis of the visual qualities of the manaia, is adamant that one of the critical attributes of the manaia is the presence of an ‘eye’ or an ‘eye space’.335 This statement is culturally significant in assuming an intimate association between the eye of the manaia and the head as a repository charged with psychic and spiritual power. This proposition finds support in the notion that the
333
Hirini Moko Mead distinguishes between the Rawheoro style and the Waiapu style of the Horouta art tradition. Simmons speaks of the East Coast style of the Ngati Porou while identifying the Iwirakau style within the context of the Rawheoro whare wananga at Uawa (Tolaga Bay). Ngarino Ellis identifies the Iwirakau style and the Tapere (Taperenui a Whatonga) styles as synonymous. Mead, H. M. (1986).
Te Toi Whakairo The Art of Maori Carving. Auckland: Reed. pp. 70-4, 80-5. Simmons, D. R. (1985).
Whakairo: Maori tribal art. Auckland: Oxford University Press. pp. 150-1. Ihimaera, W. and Ellis, N. (Eds). (2001). Te Ata Maori Art from the East Coast. New Zealand. Auckland: Reed. p. 37. 334
Expanding on Gotshalk’s contention that ‘ the aesthetic experience is intrinsic perception’ Neich proposes that ‘...since perception contains cognitive elements, the elaboration of intrinsic perception will engage the cognitive powers and will leave an imprint on thought. Thus intrinsic perception will widen a person’s sensitivity and have later effects on his metaperceptual, ‘practical’ activity and his subsequent artistic activity’. I appropriate the term ‘intrinsic perception’ as the ability of a practicing artist to perceive patterns and form that might otherwise escape the attention of non-practitioners. Neich, R. (2001). Carved Histories Rotorua Ngati Tarawhai Carving. Auckland: Auckland University Press. pp. 102, 261.
335
‘The manaia is the most widely used and developed decorative element in carving. It may be presented and contorted in innumerable ways, twisting and reversing in an infinite variety of forms filling an equally infinite variety of spaces. The eye, or eye space, is always present’. Although the publication Tanenuiarangi is copyrighted to the University of Auckland the text was written by the Ngati Porou master carver Pakariki Harrison who was responsible for the building and carving of the house Tanenuiarangi. University of Auckland. (1988). Tane-nui-a-Rangi, Auckland: University of Auckland. p. 19.
manaia ‘also express the spiritual and tapu states of man’.336Hence, for Pakariki Harrison, the manaia is perceived as a purveyor of tapu within the context of a tribal worldview.337
The interrelationship between eye and carved manaia is applicable in Neich's review of Te Pitau-a-Manaia because he argues that ‘unlike carved manaia, the Pitau-a-Manaia never includes a head or face form’.338
In assessing the influence of Rev. William Williams on the carvers of the Poverty Bay region and the evolution of the carved manaia panels for the Manutuke church, Neich supports Dana's contention that
‘The actual carvings produced under these conditions were purely decorative, without any human figures that would have represented ancestors...Instead, each panel was completely covered with a profusion of manaia figure designs that avoided any obvious representational reference’.339
This statement is contestable on two counts. In the first instance, the dismissal of the images as ‘purely decorative’ and devoid of any ‘obvious representational reference’ merely perpetuates an aesthetic currency that denies cultural signification of image beyond decoration. In the second instance, examination of the ‘profusion of manaia’ reveals that the carved panel from the Manutuke Church featuring manaia (Figure 18) consist of a procession of major manaia with hands, feet and bodies rendered as subsidiary manaia thereby intensifying the tapu nature of the manaia.
Figure 18. Manaia drawing. Rongowhakaata style. [i]
It is apparent that Neich has been misguided by the visual complexity and ambiguity of these idiosyncratic manaia. His interpretation of the painted and carved manaia from Poverty Bay region has been handicapped by an inadequate perceptual analysis.
The visual displacement of Te Pitau-a-Manaia images within Neich’s publication
‘Painted Histories’ demonstrates more succinctly than any textual statement his difficulty in deciphering the kowhaiwhai pattern Te Pitau-a-Manaia.340 In each case the manaia in the Te Pitau-a-Manaia rafters are inverted, that is, the manaia are literally lying on their backs. Vertical arrangement of the kowhaiwhai panels or an alignment of the patterns according to their orientation on the maihi of Te Poho o Rawiri would have overcome
336
University of Auckland. (1988). Tane-nui-a-Rangi, Auckland: University of Auckland. p. 19. 337
‘Tapu is being under spiritual restriction, beyond the limits of one's life force and psychic power. Anyone breaking a tapu was interfering with psychic forces too powerful for him, and was certain to be overcome by calamity. Objects, places, or actions became subject to tapu when they become highly charged with psychic or spiritual forces’. University of Auckland. (1988). p. 18.
338
Neich, R. (1986). Painted Histories: Early Maori figurative painting. Auckland: Auckland University Press. p. 86.
339
Neich. (1986). p. 85. 340
this problem.341 It is tempting to dismiss this displacement as a publishing error but the 1995 reprint of 'Painted Histories' retains this culturally inappropriate displacement. Aside from this visual faux par, an analysis of the manaia as form and representation will show that Neich's analysis of the Poverty Bay Te Pitau-a-Manaia lacks intrinsic perception.
In contesting Alan Hanson's classification of kowhaiwhai patterns according to symmetry operations, Neich is correct in aligning Te Pita-a-Manaia pattern illustrated in Hamilton's book on Maori art (Figure 19), with Hanson's 'correspondence symmetry' examples.342 However, the kowhaiwhai designs from the Williams (1897) sample are incomplete patterns, that is, only a portion of the total design is illustrated. Consequently, Te Pitau-a-Manaia, which is based on the Te Poho o Rawiri maihi design in the National Museum of New Zealand in Wellington, shows a kowhaiwhai pattern in which the head and shoulder of the manaia are dislocated from subsidiary arm, torso and lower limb.
While the1936 Te Pitau-a-Manaia pattern on the maihi of Te Hau ki Turanga (Figure