He Hui mo nga Tohunga Whakairo

Tu Tangata, Issue 18, 1 June 1984, Page 20

He Hui mo nga Tohunga Whakairo

na Hamuera Mitchell

A hui for maori carvers was held on the recently opened Ngati Tarawhai marae at Rotoiti. Organised by the Council for Maori and South Pacific Arts (MASPAC) about sixty carvers and student carvers gathered to discuss their art and craft. For many it gave them a chance to put names to not so well-known faces, and share ideas with fellow artists.

In the workshops the carvers discussed a number of issues. For instance, what sort of commercial opportunities were available, especially if they wanted to make a “living” from their work. Kara Puketapu, managing director of Maori International, spoke to the group about his company’s intentions to provide outlets for quality goods produced by maori crafts-people. While most seemed excited by such developments it was difficult to gauge whether they understood or appreciated the marketing strategy required to make it pay. It’s essential that this group comes to terms with, for example, a system of pricing based on an agreed forumla. Also, it is important that they come up

with some sort of criteria to determine what is “quality”, what is “genuine” maori carving. At least the hui enabled these carvers to think about all these matters even though policies were left undecided. Another interesting topic was the question, Who is entitled to be called a master carver? The chairman of MASPAC Kingi Ihaka posed the question because many carvers were proclaiming themselves to be master carvers. Some thought the term was pakeha in origin and was, perhaps, more appropriate to describe a butcher or a carver of meats, and suggested that the maori term, “tohunga whakairo”, should be used. But a change in terms did not resolve

the question, When is a carver a master carver? Some felt that only the iwi could bestow such a title on a carver; others agreed and added that a master carver was one not only adept in all aspects of carving but also knowledgeable in whakapapa and the karakia associated with carving, particularly when engaged in building meeting houses or canoes. To the younger generation of carvers, past masters such as Pine and Hone Taiapa, Piri Poutapu and the likes of Charlie (Aiotua) Tuarau and Kohe Webster deserved this title of respect.

Generally, the consensus was that the artist’s work speaks for him and it is the people who refer to him as a master carver or “tohunga whakairo”. But for practical purposes, especially in view of business and government organisations commissioning carvings (sometimes priced at thousands of dollars) some sort of definition needs to be decided on. Perhaps, someone who has graduated from a “recognised” carving school, worked under an acknowledged elder skilled in carving, worked on a major project like a meeting house or a canoe will have acquired the necessary skills of his craft to be called a carver. A master carver, however, seems to conjure up images of grey hair and a wrinkled, wizened face. Not an easy one to agree on!

As though sensing the need for respite from such heady discussions the convenor of the hui, Joe Malcolm, invited Roger Neich, senior ethnologist from the National Museum, to give a resume of an extensive study he had done on the Ngati Tarawhai carving tradition. The story clearly demonstrated the ready transition these early “tohunga whakairo” made to a new technology (iron chisel), the new patronage (cash payments) and new styles (three dimensional figures). It was an interesting description of the vitality of wood-carving as a living artform and I am sure it helped to allay any fears the carvers may have had about innovating with new materials (particle board, teak), new technology (electric jig-saw) and new styles (pictorial murals). Also, the talk illustrated that “commercialisation” of the art did not lead to its bastardisation but enabled the Ngati Tarawhai carvers to maintain their livelihood and traditions.

The final session that I sat in on was to do with the “mauri” of carving. It was somewhat from the “kauae-runga” realm and tended to get bogged down in semantics. Some brave souls attempted

to explain it but most appeared unsure of what exactly they were talking about. An aside from one carver claimed that there were thirty-two such “mauri”. I was amazed by such an array.

After an hour or so Archdeacon Ihaka interjected and wanted to know what the topic was! It was unfortunate that he thought the talk was a lot of bull because it raises the question of MASPAC’s role in these hui. Admittedly, the council paid for it but to me once the cheque is handed over the council should assume an observer’s role and not be directly involved in the proceedings. It smacked a bit of offhandedness and suggested that administrators know what is best for artists.

I felt that such a searching subject underlined the predicament of the maori carver today. While most carvers are engaged in the socio-cul-tural aspects of carving, i.e., as a vehicle for transmitting the wider values of maori society, a number were looking at carving as their principal means of income. They were in a sense at the crossroads. While they recognised the need to preserve the spiritual or “tapu” aspects of their art they also needed to come to terms with things that were “noa”. With the depletion of native timber like totara they had to look to exotic woods or fabricated materials. Also, their time was divided between tribal projects and commercial projects.

It appeared to me that as maori carvers they wanted to reaffirm their role and their obligation. This dilemma has been faced by other indigenous peoples whose art or craft is straddled between two worlds. The maori may be able to learn from the eskimo in this respect. For instance, the eskimo selects stones to carve for ritual purposes which are very different to stones for sale to tourists. This principle is adopted by some maori weavers who relate to the flax when working with maori people quite differently to when demonstrating to a group of tourists. The carver, likewise, needs to come to understand these two worlds that he moves in.

The hui raised a number of issues such as the need for a register or guild of maori carvers, the need for a trademark for “quality” produced goods, the need to adapt to new technology and new materials which were discussed but left unresolved. Other issues, like allowing women to train as carvers, were either overlooked or ignored. But the hui at last provided the carvers with a forum to improve communication and co-ordination among maori craftsmen. This should be encouraged and, perhaps, a combined hui of maori weavers and carvers to discuss the common area of marketing. Are you there Maori International?