Pisupo Lua Afe 29 Sibel Isikdemir
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Art & Oceania: Case Studies University of Toronto, 2021 Contents Brett Graham and Rachel Rakena: Āniwaniwa 1 Anna Yermolina tahiri ra’a 4 Sibel Isikdemir Sopolemalama Filipe Tohi: Veiloto Haukulasi 7 Anna Yermolina Michael Parekowhai: Kiss the Baby Goodbye 10 Dina Theleritis Lisa Reihana: In Pursuit of Venus [Infected] 13 Charlotte Koch Greg Semu: Auto Portrait with 12 Disciples 16 Yang Zhou Ralph Hotere:Dawn/Water Poem 18 Rowyn Campbell Mathias Kauage: Independence 21 Yang Zhou Brett Graham: Snitch 23 Megan Brohm Maika’i Tubbs: Stepping Stones 26 Charlotte Koch Michel Tuffrey Filipe Tohi: Pisupo lua afe 29 Sibel Isikdemir Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies Brett Graham and Rachel Rakena: Āniwaniwa Anna Yermolina Āniwaniwa, Brett Graham (1967-) and Rachael Rakena (1969-), 2007, Aotearoa (New Zealand), multimedia sculptural installation, dimensions variable. Āniwaniwa (2007) is a multimedia sculptural installation co-created by Brett Graham (Ngāti Korokī Kahukura, Pākehā) and Rachael Rakena (Ngāpuhi and Ngāi Tahu). The term “āniwaniwa” has several overlapping meanings, all of which give insight into the symbolism of this artwork. The term can mean “the blackness of deep water, storm clouds, a state of bewilderment, a sense of disorientation, and confusion as one is tossed beneath the waters” as well as a rainbow as a symbol of hope.1 The term is also a place name for a set of rapids at Waikato River’s narrowest point. This is where Graham’s grandfather’s village of Horahora was located before it was flooded in 1947 following the creation of a new hydroelectric power station downstream at Karapiro.2 Āniwaniwa can be viewed as an illustration of the Māori connection to 1 Alice Hutchison,“Introduction,” in Āniwaniwa Catalogue, 52nd International Art Exhibition La Biennale di Venezia, 2007, http://www.brettgraham.co.nz/photos/tangaroa-water/brett- graham-aniwaniwa-catalogue.pdf. 2 Ibid., 3. 1 Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies water, as well as a way to process the forced displacement and migration of the people living at Horahora from their homeland. Āniwaniwa consists of five sculptural vessels suspended from the ceiling. These sculptures were carved by Graham and represent wakahuia, which are treasure boxes or vessels meant to contain precious objects in order to protect their mana.3 In this context, these vessels may be seen to preserve the memories and spiritual connection to a lost ancestral land. The vessels contain screens that face downwards towards the floor and project visual clips and sound recordings filmed by Rakena of underwater scenes. Some of the scenes simply show objects like powerlines, unfinished weaving, or hanging laundry, while others show submerged human actors in eighteenth century clothing going about routine activities.4 These actors exhibit the desire to hold on to a formerly normal way of life. For example, one of the actors is a woman trying to light a fire while wearing mourning clothes. Fire is often seen as a “metaphor for a culture being quietly sustained” wherein the fire represents “the occupation and therefore ownership of land, which has been maintained through generations.”5 The submerged woman is unable to light the fire, however, which speaks to the theme of cultural loss. These images seem to explore Rakena’s interest in Māori identity in relation to land as “being in a state of flux, a fluidity that like the borders of a river, [is] constantly changing, likened to intangible cyberspace digital networks.”6 Viewers are meant to observe the work by lying down on mats placed under the suspended sculptures in a dimly lit room. This unusual method of viewing disorients the typical gallery experience, while the act of watching a projection in a dark room creates the sense of being enveloped or submerged by the projected images. This sensory experience represents āniwaniwa the disorientation that follows being thrown into water reminding viewers of the forced displacement of the Māori of Ngati Koroki Kahukura from their homeland and the literal and figurative submersion of their histories. The carving on the exterior of the vessels evokes the pattern of coral reefs, while their dark colour suggests that they are “unearthly” and originating from the darkest depths of the ocean.7 This form may reference to the ways in which rising sea levels caused by global warming are diluting the acidity of ocean water and causing the widespread devastation of coral reefs, while also submerging many low- 3 Alice Hutchison,“Introduction,” in Āniwaniwa Catalogue, 3. 4 “Brett Graham and Rachael Rakena: Āniwaniwa,” City Gallery Wellington, 2008, https://citygallery.org.nz/exhibitions/brett-graham-and-rachael-rakena-aniwaniwa/ 5 Ibid., 4. 6 Alice Hutchison,“Introduction,” 2. 7 “Brett Graham and Rachael Rakena: Āniwaniwa,” City Gallery Wellington 2 Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies lying Pacific islands like the Tuvalu group.8 This reminder of the disastrous effects of climate change expands the meaning of the work to universal concerns, and it held particular weight when the piece was first exhibited at the Venice Biennale of 2007. References Hutchison, Alice. “Introduction.” in Āniwaniwa Catalogue. 52nd International Art Exhibition La Biennale di Venezia, 2007. http://www.brettgraham.co.nz/photos/tangaroa-water/brett- graham-aniwaniwa-catalogue.pdf. “Brett Graham and Rachael Rakena: Āniwaniwa.” City Gallery Wellington. 2008. https://citygallery.org.nz/exhibitions/brett- graham-and-rachael-rakena-aniwaniwa/ 8 Alice Hutchison,“Introduction,” in Āniwaniwa Catalogue, 4. 3 Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies tahiri ra’a Sibel Isikdemir tahiri ra’a, early–mid-19th century, Rurutu or Tupua'I Island of the Austral Islands, Wood, coconut fiber, human hair, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. This tahiri ra’a (usually translated to fly whisk) from the Austral Islands in French Polynesia dates from the early to mid 19th century. It is a ritual object meant to be fanned rapidly in a circular motion to prompt the gods to cross over from their spiritual world to our human world.1 In its original context, this whisk was spun by priests in ritual ceremonies to call on deities2 and to help them transition from the dark, spirit world called te po to the world of light and life of te ao.3 These rituals were done in special religious precincts. Polished pearl shells were bound to the tahiri’s fibers which would jingle as they hit each other and reflected light to create an appropriate atmosphere for summoning the gods.4 1 Maia Nuku, ATEA: Nature and Divinity in Polynesia, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, v.76, no. 3 (Winter, 2019), 38, https://www.metmuseum.org/art/metpublications/Atea_Nature_and_Divinity_in_Polynesia. 2 Khan Academy, “Fly Whisk.” 3 Nuku, ATEA, 41. 4 The Met, “Flywhisk.” 4 Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies Great care can be observed from the attention to detail in its formal characteristics, which complement its function as a sacred object. To start, there are two distinctly colored fibres binding the wooden handle: brown human hair and red/yellow coconut fiber.5 Genealogical significance lies in the use of these materials with the hair symbolizing connection between chiefs and their ancestors.6 The weaving together of human hair and coconut fibers can be interpreted as the literal representation of the spiritual and human realms mixing together when spun.7 The feather-like whisk at the bottom is made of springy coconut fibers twisted together.8 The filial on top is carved into an abstracted figure that represents an early deified ancestor.9 Its hands are clasped together, and its long face and nose is a proboscis shape. Its facial features are simplified to one brow, and the two notches on its head evoke a hairstyle common to male chiefs.10 Another prominent feature of the carving is its protruding navel which alludes to the belief that the stomach was where knowledge was contained (as opposed to the head).11 When viewed from the side, one can see how the figure has two heads and two sets of limbs. It represents one singular figure in motion, and this visual duplicity would have enhanced the appearance of movement when the tahiri was rotated.12 Additionally, there is a column of disks below the figure echoing its feet, further expressing a spinning movement visually. Tahiri means to spin,13 which is a fitting name for an object dynamic both in form and function. The terms “fly whisk” and “fan” were attributed to it by early European explorers due to its resemblance to such objects. However, it is clear from its careful craftsmanship and sacred purpose that it is not such a mundane item. The use of a whisking device for divine ceremonies can be explained by how closely linked the theme of dynamism is to images of Polynesian gods and ritual practices.14 Even atua, the collective term for Polynesian deities, refers to a repeated revolving movement around a central axis,15 reinforcing this strong connection. Thus, the fly whisk is a medium to facilitate communication with ancestral spirits through 5 “Fly Whisk (tahiri ra’a), Austral Islands,” Khan Academy, accessed October 18, 2020, 5:20, https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/art-oceania/oceania-peoples-and- places/polynesia/v/tahiri-austral. 6 “Flywhisk (tahiri ra’a),” The Metropolitan Museum, accessed October 18, 2020, https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/313676. 7 Khan Academy, “Fly Whisk.” 8 Nuku, ATEA, 41. 9 The Met, “Flywhisk.” 10 Ibid. 11 Khan Academy, “Fly Whisk.” 12 Nuku, ATEA, 41. 13 Khan Academy, “Fly Whisk.” 14 Nuku, ATEA, 38. 15 Nuku, ATEA, 41. 5 Journal: Art & Oceania Case Studies dynamic ritual practice. However, its materiality also derives from matter imbued with mana that not only makes it a bridge to the other realm, but a part of the cosmological framework itself.