Técnicas e instrumentos de recolección de datos

Flute Name:

Kōauau Makomako Anuhe

Dimensions:

155 mm (long, top to bottom)

23.2 mm (wide at top end)

43.1 mm (across at widest mid-point)

16.7 mm (wide at bottom end)

15.3 mm wide (wide at top, inside bore)

10.7 mm wide (wide at distal, inside bore)

Materials:

Makomako trunk (Aristotelia serrata)

Pre-existing tunnel made by the caterpillar of the pūriri moth (Aenetus virescens).

Tools Used:

Steel blade toki / Hōanga

(Figure 4.20) Kōauau Makomako Anuhe length.

(Figure 4.21) Kōauau Makomako Anuhe. Note secondary holes.

(Figure 4.22) Kōauau Makomako Anuhe.

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Physical Characteristics:

A lumpy, unsophisticated flute, that is heavy and unwieldy in form. A large, very round, dark-brown, curved tunnel runs through the centre that has been produced by the action of a pūriri moth caterpillar (Aenetus virescens). Effects of adze use across the surface are evident as the form is roughly hewn. Small polygonal shapes cut by the adze interconnect across the surface of the wood, with occasional stacked groups of short horizontal bands in places where the adze has lodged rather than slicing the wood (caused by a blunt blade and poor adze skills on my part). The wood is a beautiful golden blond with dark brown streaks across the length of one side. This colouring appears to be staining, a symptom of the caterpillar tunnelling. In this area of dark-brown there are 3 small holes and 2 smaller pits that are also the result of insects eating (Fig. 4.21). None of these holes traverse the depth of the wall into the bore, so do not affect the function or tone of the flute. The two larger holes on the side of the flute are in fact a single tunnel and connect to each other. This becomes obvious when it is blown down and the air escapes out the

(Figure 4.23) Note dark staining.

(Figure 4.24) Curvature of the bore follows the upper surface of the

171 end. The smallest pit is very similar in appearance to the smallest pit on the side of Kōauau Pūriri

Ātaahua (Fig. 4.16). The tunnel is a dark brown in colour with a strong, smooth curve across its length and the surface of the tunnel is minutely rough and pitted (Fig. 4.26), but firm. Because of the consistency of the pitting and the nature of the biochemically rearranged surface, the overall effect is a surface that is relatively uniform and homogenous (Fig. 4.33). This surface texture gives the flute excellent functional qualities.

The wall surface of the bore has the appearance of being burned or melted. It has a reconstituted, shiny appearance to it as if it has been liquefied and reset. Considering the wood is very light in colour, the tunnel colour is a very dark relatively. Black speckling adds to the suggestion that it has been incinerated.

A strong smell of smokiness existed in the tunnel when it was fresh, and though not as strong, still persists today.

(Figure 4.25) Note curve of bore.

(Figure 4.26) Proximal detail.

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Construction Process:

1. A section of trunk with a grub tunnel is sourced. 2. Using my adze, I began to remove the majority

of the wood from off the log.

3. With persistence, the log is reduced to a kōauau shape of manageable size.

4. The piece is further reduced and shaped on a large, heavy grain hōanga.

5. Further work might continue on the shape and the surface finish by reducing the grain of hōanga.

Construction started and completed in 2002. Bore made by Aenetus virescens.

Kōauau made by Rob Thorne.

Discussion:

Kōauau Makomako Anuhe is a profound instrument in form and function. This function, coupled with near perfect bore form excites the research toward a desire for traditional plausibility.

(Figure 4.28) Beginning to excavate the bore from a trunk.

(Figure 4.29) Finishing excavation.

(Figure 4.30) Shaping on hōanga.

173 That the experiments demonstrate possibility does not determine validity, and without strong co- validation from a Māori historical context, the research cannot conclude with any certainty that such methods were used traditionally. Such validation might arise from oral tradition, or mōteatea, or even from a museum collection through rigorous physical testing of a particular piece, but until then, there is a requirement for the research to insist on indeterminacy. Such historical discoveries can be attained through connections that have been previously considered irrelevant. Considering that Hine Raukatauri is also culturally perceived as a cicada, perhaps a connection might be discovered that links her, for example, to all moths, and that her unearthly powers of music are intrinsic to the shamanic processes of metamorphosis and flight.

If such connections were rediscovered, in whakapapa or traditional song or myth, one might be able to use this conjecture to develop a strong rationale for the use of moth grub tunnels in the construction of kōauau. Sometimes the raising of such suppositious discussion can bring seemingly unrelated strands of discourse together in a way that renders newfound meanings to previously lesser understood or unrealised perceptions,

(Figure 4.32) Bore surface detail.

(Figure 4.33) Bore surface detail. Note the overall smoothness.

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resulting in new paradigms of cultural comprehension. It is for these reasons that I have included this chapter. As a Māori who is a musician, I might imaginarily contextualise myself in a historical environment and presume that, if I were back then, that I would use such a tunnel to construct a kōauau simply for its sheer functional brilliance. In a scientific context requiring certainty such intuitive but imaginary thinking is of course considered questionable. What I am aiming to do in this discussion therefore, is construct a potential web of possibly related, and often seemingly disconnected, signifying factors and issues for appraisal in the hope that future research might unveil some pertinent applicability.

In regards to remodelling culture when reconstructing the broken tradition of taonga pūoro, I particularly find the act of sourcing, extracting and playing a moth grub hole for kōauau as very culturally engaging. As with the act of using a traditionally- modelled cord-drill, the prolonged employment of a traditionally-modelled adze activates issues of identity for me as a Māori at a physically embodied level.

The inherent meanings that arise for a player who has made their own instruments with traditional techniques similar to those utilised by their ancestors are sincere, and with the accumulating feature of commissioning further conjoined elements of nature and divine totem into the operation, a profoundly meaningful and dynamically plural act of physical, cultural and spiritual communion and identity is achieved.

Conclusion:

The making of Kōauau Makomako Mokoroa was not difficult, involving more time and effort than skill. Not to say that proper and masterful use of an adze is not difficult to achieve, but this task is an excellent way to practice using this tool, and I rate this as an entry-level task. Once the basic use of a toki is achieved (recognising that it is basically a

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mallet-less, reverse hafted chisel that only removes small slithers of wood at a time) the job became easier. I had already had a lot of practice with my toki, but relished the opportunity to use it in a concerted and prolonged way that involved the removal of a number of wood layers. Such reductive labour, where one ‘removes’ something in order to ‘achieve’, makes for positive work, as the progress is easily perceived as it happens. The task, as with using the tūwiri, is one of protracted and concerted discipline. Several days to make a kōauau from solid wood is a long time in comparison to some of the instruments made in this research from found holes or pithwood, though not as long as one might take using a tūwiri. That this flute has the voice of New Zealand’s largest moth embedded within it singing a song of its metamorphosis makes such a unique task all the more fulfilling.

Regardless of the conclusion of traditional indeterminacy, I highly recommend the use of (sustainably sourced) Aenetus virescens caterpillar tunnels in the construction of kōauau in a modern context because of the environmentally and culturally meaningful elements that intertwine within their application. I personally look forward to teaching my own children the practical skill of the toki when I present them each with a tunnel for extraction from a timber round. For them, this process will embody within their flute, and themselves, a sense of identity that amalgamates a respect for nature with totemic practice, tradition, myth, skill, physical discipline, and musicality. Such an object is far more than just a flute, and the sound it produces, more than just music.

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Chapter 5